The Book of Samuel and Its Response to Monarchy: Herausgegeben:Bendemann, Reinhard von; Dietrich, Walter; Kipfer, Sara; Scoralick, Ruth; Gielen, Marlis;Mitarbeit:Ramantswana, Hulisani; Naumann, Thomas; Leonard-Fleckmann, Mahri 9783170370401, 9783170370418, 3170370405

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Beiträge zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und Neuen Testament Herausgegeben von Walter Dietrich Ruth Scoralick Reinhard von Bendemann Marlis Gielen Band 228

Edited by Sara Kipfer and Jeremy M. Hutton in collaboration with Regine Hunziker-Rodewald, Thomas Naumann and Johannes Klein

The Book of Samuel and Its Response to Monarchy

Verlag W. Kohlhammer

1. Edition 2021 All rights reserved © W. Kohlhammer GmbH, Stuttgart Production: W. Kohlhammer GmbH, Stuttgart Print: ISBN 978-3-17-037040-1 E-Book: pdf: ISBN 978-3-17-037041-8 W. Kohlhammer bears no responsibility for the accuracy, legality or content of any external website that is linked or cited, or for that of subsequent links.

Contents Preface .......................................................................................................................

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Sara Kipfer / Jeremy M. Hutton The Book of Samuel and Its Response to Monarchy – An Introduction .........

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David G. Firth Hannah’s Prayer as Hope for and Critique of Monarchy ..................................

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Regine Hunziker-Rodewald Images by and Images of Philistia: Winner and Loser Perspectives in 1 Samuel 5–6 .............................................................................................................

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Ian D. Wilson Remembering Kingship: Samuel’s Contributions to Postmonarchic Culture

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Hulisani Ramantswana Tribal Contentions for the Throne: A Culturally Enthused Suspicious Reading of 1 Samuel 1–8 .............................

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Jeremy M. Hutton A Pre-Deuteronomistic Narrative Underlying the “Antimonarchic Narrative” (1 Sam 8; 10*; 12) and Its Reuse in Thomas Paine’s Common Sense .................... 115 Hannes Bezzel Der „Saulidische Erbfolgekrieg“ – Responses to Which Kind of Monarchy? . 165 Sara Kipfer Conquering all the Enemies West, East, South, and North: Envisioning Power in the Books of Samuel and the Ancient Near East .......... 183 Mahri Leonard-Fleckman Ally or Enemy? Politics and Identity Construction in 2 Sam 15:19-22 ............ 211

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Contents

Benjamin J. M. Johnson An Unapologetic Apology: The David Story as a Complex Response to Monarchy ...................................... 225 Thomas Naumann „Der König weint“ – Das öffentliche Weinen des Königs als Mittel politischer Kommunikation in alttestamentlichen Texten .................................................. 243 Ilse Müllner Das Geschlecht der Politik. Familie und Herrschaft in der dynastischen Monarchie ................................................................................................................. 281 Johannes Klein Dynastiekritische Vorstellungen und das Königtum. Ein Blick auf die Samuelbücher ............................................................................. 299 Walter Dietrich Die Samuelbücher und das Königtum: Bemerkungen zu den Beiträgen dieses Bandes .................................................. 311 Walter Dietrich The Books of Samuel and the Monarchy: Response to the Contributions of this Volume ................................................... 321 Index of Biblical References ................................................................................... 331 Index of Subjects ...................................................................................................... 335 Contributors .............................................................................................................. 343

Preface Since Walter Dietrich organized the first conference of the Samuel Seminar in Bern in 2003, 1 meetings and seminars centered on the Book of Samuel have regularly taken place at IOSOT congresses and other venues. Beginning with the first meeting in Bern, where synchronic and diachronic approaches were brought together for consideration, these events have tackled pressing issues in the study of the Book of Samuel. In 2006 A. Graeme Auld and Erik Eynikel organized a conference in Nijmegen, centered on the political Tendenzen of various sources, traditions, redactions, and pericopae in the book, asking whether these components demonstrated an ideology that stood “for or against David?” 2 One year later in 2007 the Samuel Seminar convened under the direction of Christa Schäfer-Lichtenberger at the 19th IOSOT congress (Ljubliana), exploring the connections between the sources of the Book of Samuel and the Deuteronomistic group that provided the book’s final structure. 3 A group of Samuel scholars met again in Bern in 2009 at the invitation of Walter Dietrich. The papers from this conference were gathered along with those of another seminar that Dietrich organized the following year, which took place alongside the 20th IOSOT congress (Helsinki) in 2010. 4 In 2014, Dietrich was honored as president of the Colloquium Biblicum Lovaniense (Leuven), allowing him the opportunity to plan and host a conference on the narratives, history, and reception of the Book of Samuel. The colloquium drew scores of scholars from around the globe. 5 On each occasion, the Seminar has drawn together many established voices alongside younger scholars through the superb leadership of Professor Walter Dietrich, the “founding father” of modern Samuel studies. 6 The ongoing dialogue has proven to be extremely fruitful, and each meeting has carved out ample space for collegial discussion among the many scholars in attendance. Dietrich’s congeniality and commitment to friendly and constructive 1

2 3 4

5 6

Dietrich, Walter, ed. David und Saul im Widerstreit – Diachronie und Synchronie im Wettstreit. Beiträge zur Auslegung des ersten Samuelbuches. OBO 206; Fribourg, Göttingen: Academic Press Fribourg, Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 2004. The papers are published in Auld, A. Graeme, and Eynikel, Erik, eds. For and Against David. Story and History in the Books of Samuel. BETL 232; Leuven, Paris, Dudley: Uitgeverij Peeters, 2010. The papers and responses of the Seminar are published in: Schäfer-Lichtenberger, Christa, ed. Die Samuelbücher und die Deuteronomisten. BWANT 188; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer Verlag, 2010. The papers are published in one volume in: Dietrich, Walter, ed. Seitenblicke. Literarische und historische Studien zu Nebenfiguren im zweiten Samuelbuch. OBO 249; Fribourg, Göttingen: Academic Press Fribourg, Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 2011. The papers are published in: Dietrich, Walter, ed. The Books of Samuel. Stories, History, Reception History. BTL 284; Leuven, Paris, Bristol, Ct: Peeters, 2016. See the preface in Auld, A. Graeme, and Eynikel, Erik, eds. For and Against David. Story and History in the Books of Samuel. BETL 232; Leuven, Paris, Dudley: Uitgeverij Peeters, 2010.

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disagreement has served as a model for other seminars and colloquia over the years, often involving overlapping groups of scholars. These other colloquia include two meetings in Jena – the first organized by Uwe Becker and Hannes Bezzel (2012) and the second by Hannes Bezzel and Reinhard G. Kratz (2018). 7 Other collections of critical essays on 1–2 Samuel testify to the ongoing scholarly interest in the book, and to the many knots awaiting untying. 8 In homage to the tradition of scholarship and collegiality established by Professor Dietrich, Sara Kipfer approached Jeremy Hutton in Stellenbosch (IOSOT 2016) about the possibility of planning another iteration of the Samuel Seminar at the next (23rd) congress of IOSOT in Aberdeen (Aug. 4–9, 2019). At the same time, Regine Hunziker-Rodewald, Thomas Naumann, and Johannes Klein were also beginning to organize a seminar, knowing that Prof. Dietrich would be celebrating his 75th birthday in 2019. The two groups quickly learned of each other’s plans and agreed to collaborate. As a result, the five editors of this volume organized a colloquium alongside the regular programming of the IOSOT Congress on the theme, “The Book of Samuel and Its Response to Monarchy.” When we first selected this as the theme of our seminar between late 2016 and early 2017, we could predict that it would be timely and relevant. The political climate in the United States, Britain, the European Continent, and the Middle East had taken a distinctively authoritarian turn in the preceding year or two. Although many individual incidents manifesting this authoritarian turn could be listed, we list here only a few: the Polish Constitutional Court crisis (beginning in Dec., 2015), the Brexit referendum (June, 2016), Erdoğan’s response to an attempted coup in Turkey (July, 2016), the Hungarian migrant quota referendum provided by Viktor Orbán (Oct., 2016), and the US presidential election (Nov., 2016). These few individual events seemed at the time to be representative of the gradual trend towards radical authoritarian extremism in societies around the world. In the intervening years, our sense of timeliness has, sadly, been confirmed by the increasing intertwining of populism, xenophobia, and authoritarianism on the world stage. Biblical studies should not allow itself to shrink from responding to these developments: Historical and social-scientific approaches to the Book of Samuel may find ancient Near Eastern precedent for this trend and seek to describe the social conditions that are produced under authoritarian regimes. Redactional approaches might examine the diachronic development of Samuel’s varying perceptions of monarchy as that institution became increasingly entrenched in Israelite and Judahite society and then underwent a sudden, cataclysmic failure. 7

8

The proceedings of these colloquia were published as: Becker, Uwe, and Bezzel, Hannes, eds. Rereading the relecture? FAT 2. Reihe 66, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2014; and Bezzel, Hannes, and Kratz, Reinhard G., eds. David in the Desert Tradition and Redaction in the “History of David’s Rise”. BZAW 514, Berlin, New York: de Gruyter 2021. See, for example: Edenburg, Cynthia, and Pakkala, Juha, eds. Is Samuel among the Deuteronomists? Current Views on the Place of Samuel in a Deuteronomistic History. SBL AIL 16; Atlanta: SBL, 2013.

Preface

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Literary and theological approaches may advocate for contemporary reconsideration and application of the book’s principles. In order to leverage these potential responses from biblicists specializing in Samuel, we invited scholars with a range of diverse methodological interests to speak in Aberdeen. Finally, we extended an invitation to Professor Dietrich to offer a response to the seminar and his concluding thoughts on Samuel’s continuing relevance in biblical studies. The editors would like to thank all the participants in the seminar, many of whom came long distances at considerable expense to be in attendance. One might say that the meeting was warm in part due to the unexpectedly sunny weather and high temperatures in Aberdeen, along with the south-facing windows of the venue. But, in the tradition of earlier seminars in Samuel, the warmth came equally from the cheer, collegiality, and sincerity of the participants. We would also like to thank the organizers of the IOSOT Congress in Aberdeen – especially the Congress President Joachim Schaper, Secretary Grant Macaskill, and administrator Diana Zee. Finally, we want to express our gratitude to the staff at Kohlhammer Verlag Stuttgart. Dr. Sebastian Weigert, Florian Specker, and Janina Schüle have shepherded this project from the beginning, and we are grateful for their knowledge and patience. Regine Hunziker-Rodewald, Jeremy M. Hutton, Sara Kipfer, Johannes Klein, Thomas Naumann

The Book of Samuel and Its Response to Monarchy – An Introduction Sara Kipfer / Jeremy M. Hutton

Needless to say, monarchy and more generally “power” (Macht), “authority” and “dominion” (Herrschaft) are among the key issues in the Book of Samuel. This volume is not the first one to analyze the Book of Samuel and its response to monarchy, and it certainly won’t be the last. 1 The Book of Samuel has long been viewed as a “Geschichtsbuch” 2 of sorts, reflecting the emergence of monarchy in Israel and Judah. 3 But alongside this use, the Book of Samuel has also been understood as a treatise on political theory. According to Westermann, the phenomenon of the political emerges so strongly in the book’s historical descriptions – of, for example, the institution of the monarchy and the succession to the throne – because the monarchy itself comprised a great new innovation in the early history of Israel and Judah. 4 Yet, as central as the monarchy is in the Book of Samuel, the book looks both forward and backward to periods in which Israel and Judah had no king. In much early biblical scholarship, researchers focused on 1 Sam 7–15 as the transition between the period of the Judges and the monarchic period. Today, many scholars attempt to reconstruct the legacy of the monarchy during the post-monarchic period, understanding that the final form of Samuel provides crucial documentation of later generations’ reflection on the failure of the monarchy (see IAN D. WILSON, Remembering Kingship). 5 It is no sur1

2

3 4

5

See e.g. Halbertal / Holmes, The Beginning of Politics. For a research overview on contemporary studies of Israelite political thought generally, see, e.g., Hamilton, A Kingdom for a Stage, 12–15. See also Oswald, Staatstheorie im Alten Israel, 10. The aim of his monograph is “den staatstheoretischen Charakter der alttestamentlichen Erzähltexte im Diskurs ihrer jeweiligen Abfassungszeit […] herauszuarbeiten” (11). See von Rad, “Typologische Auslegung des Alten Testaments,” 23: “Das A.T. ist ein Geschichtsbuch”. Von Rad, “Der Anfang der Geschichtsschreibung,” 159, considered the Succession Narrative “als die älteste Form der altisraelitischen Geschichtsschreibung”. See for the discussion, Blum, “Ein Anfang der Geschichtsschreibung?,” 4-37. There is a very long ongoing discussion to what extent the Book of Samuel should be considered as “historiography” (“history”) and to what extent they are “fiction” (“story”). See, e.g., Eynikel, “Introduction,” 1–17. See, e.g., Dietrich, “Staatsbildung und frühes Königtum in Israel,” 189-202. Westermann, “Zum Geschichtsverständnis des Alten Testaments,” 612. “Das Phänomen des Politischen im eigentlichen Sinn tritt in der Thronfolgegeschichte so stark heraus, weil dies in der frühen Königszeit die große neue Entdeckung war.” See, e.g., Wilson, Kingship and Memory in Ancient Judah; Gilmour, Representing the Past: A Literary Analysis of Narrative Historiography in the Book of Samuel. Several recent volumes point equally to this shift in perspective. See, e.g., Silverman / Waerzeggers, Political Memory in and after the Persian Empire, Edelman / Ben Zvi, Leadership, Social Memory and Judean Discourse.

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prise, then, that Halbertal and Holmes have recently come to the conclusion that the Book of Samuel as a whole is a “profound work of political thought”. 6 We would offer, however, two significant caveats concerning this claim: First, nowhere does the Book of Samuel reflect specifically on the nature of monarchy in an abstract or theoretical way. The Book of Samuel contains different literary genres, such as stories, psalms, lists, etc., but provides no academic text on monarchy. 7 The closest approximation to a critical reflection on the monarchy comes in 1 Sam 8:11–17, but even the “custom of the king” is simply couched as a list of audacious displays of power the king will make; there is no explicit consideration of the institution’s justification. Second, and relatedly, Western political thought remains strongly shaped by Plato’s Republic and Aristotle’s Constitutions. 8 Sanders observes that political philosophers have tended to assume that the state is the only real political possibility. Typically, these philosophers have demonstrated both an inability to imagine alternative polities and a lack of vocabulary with which to talk about non-state political forms. 9 Sanders continues: Yet this slightly clichéd story may be more a symptom of gaps in our theory than in our texts. It has been hard to see ancient near eastern history and political thought outside a state perspective. 10

The Book of Samuel unquestionably reflects both Iron-Age and Persian Period political concepts, but is what the Book of Samuel describes as “monarchy” really the same as what we conceive to be “monarchy” today? (see HANNES BEZZEL, Der ‘Saulidische Erbfolgekrieg’ – Responses to Which Kind of Monarchy?). 11 6 7

8 9 10

11

Halbertal / Holmes, The Beginning of Politics, 1. Hamilton, A Kingdom for a Stage, 3, concludes: “Nowhere does the Hebrew Bible spend time thinking about the nature of ‘politics’ in the abstract, a move that entered Western intellectual life only through Plato’s Republic and Aristotle’s Constitutions.” For a detailed discussion, see Raaflaub, Anfänge politischen Denkens in der Antike. Sanders, “From People to Public in the Iron Age Levant,” 191, points to this lack of vocabulary, asking whether it is possible to “excavate” political theory. Sanders, “From People to Public in the Iron Age Levant,” 192. Recently, Sergi, “Israelite Identity and the Formation of Israelite Polities”, has pointed to the retention of “kinship identity even during the monarchic period”. In the present volume, Bezzel correctly points to the fact that exegesis is not possible without presuppositions; this is, of course, a very general hermeneutical problem. See, e.g., Bultmann, “Is Exegesis Without Presupposition Possible?” Or to formulate the problem with the words of Gadamer, Truth and Method, 283: “Research in the human sciences cannot regard itself as in an absolute antithesis to the way in which we, as historical beings, relate to the past. At any rate, our usual relationship to the past is not characterized by distancing and freeing ourselves from tradition. Rather, we are always situated within traditions, and this is no objectifying process – i.e., we do not conceive of what tradition says as something other, something alien. It is always part of us, a model or exemplar, a kind of cognizance that our later historical judgment would hardly regard as a kind of knowledge but as the most ingenuous affinity with tradition.”

Introduction

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Moreover, there is a gendered dynamic of monarchy that, until relatively recently, has gone unobserved – or, at least, undiscussed – in most political treatments. Namely, monarchy is usually connected to hierarchical, structured “male” dynastic power. This connection is normally implicit, and only with the rise of explicitly feminist methodologies has it been brought to the surface. 12 It is not the place of this volume to attempt to provide an overview of the range of possible “concepts” 13 of “monarchy” that could have influenced the Book of Samuel. 14 We would like to stress, however, that it is not sufficient to simply oppose the terms “monarchy” and “kingship” over against “tribal system” and “kinship”, as though these concepts form a simple dichotomy. Instead, we propose the need to consider the various possibilities for conceptualizing the myriad and complex ways that other power structures interact with the monarchy (this complex interaction is sometimes described as “heterarchy” 15). This requires again, different methods and approaches (e.g., both inductive and deductive) when analyzing the Book of Samuel (see HULISANI RAMANTSWANA, Tribal Contentions for the Throne: Reading 1 Samuel 1-8 through a Hermeneutic of Suspicion). 16 In an attempt to leverage the diverse insights of the contributors to this volume, we would like to front two central considerations at the outset. Brief reflection on these two issues will help to guide the reader through this volume. First, several essays explore whether and in what sense the Book of Samuel should be considered to be a collection of texts illuminating different stages of the institutionalization of power rather than a monolithic treatise on the institution itself. Second, many of the essays included in this volume explore the degree to which the Book of Samuel itself functioned as a medium of power and an instrument of state- and identity-building. This artifact operated throughout 12

13 14

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Svärd, “Women, Power, and Heterarchy in Neo-Assyrian Palaces,” 508, concludes: “Power has usually been understood as political power to command, originating from the king. It has been rarely taken into account that the definition of power influences research results. Understanding power as something obvious – either in structures of society or in ‘powerful’ individuals – directs attention to structural power, government and on actors that appear to be high in the social hierarchy.” See, e.g., Benno Landsberger, on “conceptual autonomy” in: Landsberger, The Conceptual Autonomy of the Babylonian World. See also, e.g., Schloen, The House of the Father, 8. There are many attempts to explain the function and role of kingship in the Hebrew Bible and the ancient Near East. One of the earliest studies was by Frankfort, Kingship and the Gods, first published in 1948. See also Niemann, Herrschaft, Königtum und Staat; Sigrist, Macht und Herrschaft; Linke, Das Charisma der Könige; Hill / Jones / Morales, Experiencing Power, Generating Authority; Levin / Müller, Herrschaftslegitimation in vorderorientalischen Reichen der Eisenzeit. Crumley, “Heterarchy and the Analysis of Complex Societies,” 3: “The addition of the term heterarchy to the vocabulary of power relations reminds us that forms of order exist that were not exclusively hierarchical and that interactive elements in complex systems need to be permanently ranked relative to one another.” See also Svärd, “Women, Power, and Heterarchy in NeoAssyrian Palaces,” 509-10. See Neu, Von der Anarchie zum Staat; Sigrist / Neu, Die Entstehung des Königtums.

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the following centuries to galvanize and foster both pro- and antimonarchic sentiments (e.g., as some kind of legitimation or commemoration).

1.

The Book of Samuel as a Text Collection about Different Stages of the Institutionalization of Power

The Book of Samuel is obviously not an explicit, theoretical reflection on the politics of power consolidation, dynasty building, or the exercise of royal prerogatives. It is rather a “political narrative” recounting the institution and earliest days of the monarchy. 17 Nonetheless, this text collection may still be considered to be a very singular political reflection: the narrative does not presuppose a power inherent to the mortal actors – in the book’s logic only Yhwh possesses such unassailable and enduring power. Instead, it describes human power as a “produced” reality. Although both Saul and David experience Yhwh’s legitimation at various points in the book (1 Sam 9:1–10:16; 16:1–13), the hierarchies of power and political structures themselves are neither imposed by nature nor divinely ordained, 18 but rather the product of human activity. This insight, that power is not something certainly given, but something debatable, was declared as a discovery of the Greek polis by Popitz: This idea that social orders are the products of human agency is one of the incomprehensibly abrupt and radical discoveries of the Greek polis. If anything deserves to be called the ‘idea of the political,’ this does. It renders the overarching political ordering of collective human existence something open to fashioning and modifying. In this manner, the status quo is experienced from the distance suggested by the fact that it can be imagined differently. It is now viewed as a result of human capacity. 19

The way the Book of Samuel narrates the advantages and disadvantages of different kinds of “leaders” such as kings, generals, prophets, and priests – not to mention their success and misbehavior – includes precisely this reflection: 17 18

19

See e.g. Wagner-Durand / Linke, “Why Study ‘Narration’.” At least the early conception of the human nature of the monarchy in Samuel is very distinct theologically from the conception of God as a lawgiver in the Pentateuch capable of laying out social roles and functions (e.g., Deut 16:18–20; 17:14–20). We find, however, later additions strengthening the divine royal election; see, e.g., the so-called Mitseins-Formel, which states that Yhwh is with David and will save him from danger (1 Sam 16:18; 17:37; 18:12, 14, 28; 2 Sam 8:6, 14), along with the title ‫ נָגִ יד‬and ‫ ﬠֶבֶ ד‬Yhwh, both of which exhibit clear theological implications. For further discussion see e.g., Dietrich / Dietrich, “Zwischen Gott und Volk.” Popitz, Phenomena of Power, 2. Popitz (ibid., 4) concludes: “None of this affects the certainty that one can do things differently, and can do them better. One of the taken-for-granted premises of our understanding of power is the conviction that power is ‘made’ and can be remade otherwise than is now the case.”

Introduction

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authority is not something given, but is rather seen as process, something which needs to be achieved and earned by the individual “leader”, and which must be ratified by the community. 20 Although this discourse may not be made explicit, it rises to the surface in various passages, emerging subtly from various literary figures’ speeches and actions in the more concrete setting of the story. Through these subtle glimpses into the characters’ (and hence, the authors’ and tradents’) views, well-reasoned reflections on ancient Israel’s political system burst forth through the interstices. For example, the elders’ apparently innocent request for a king is deemed by Samuel not to be so innocent – he responds with a long list of the risks and disadvantages of monarchy as such (1 Sam 8:11–18). Entangled with this negative evaluation is the question concerning who should or should not be authorized to judge, given power to lead in war, and collect taxes. It is precisely the form of the narration that makes it possible to see power not as some abstract entity, but rather a very concrete imposition on the lives of the people. The discourse on the legislation of power, the building of a monarchy, and the stages of the institutionalization of power cannot be limited only to 1 Sam 8. As a whole, the Book of Samuel documents the struggle for power and domination in very diverse forms. It also explores myriad related issues, such as the tensions between religious and state power (priests, prophets, and kings) – although the Book of Samuel does not promote hierocracy 21 in the same way as in the Priestly text of the Pentateuch. At the same time, the text traces subjects such as the powers exercised by “civil servants” – including influential generals such as Joab, and the sons of Zerujah generally (their rivalry with the king making David “powerless, even though anointed king”; 2 Sam 3:39aα; see also 2 Sam 16:10; 19:23) 22 – and “political advisors” (see, e.g., Hushai in 2 Sam 16:15–17:14; and the wise woman of Tekoa in 2 Sam 14:1–24). 23 Further, the institutionalization of power in 1–2 Samuel is only inchoate; power is not yet depersonalized, nor is it formalized. 24 The stories in the Book of 20

21 22 23 24

See Arendt, The Human Condition, 201: “The only indispensable material factor in the generation of power is the living together of people. Only where men live so close together that potentialities of action are always present can power remain with them, and the foundation of cities, which as city-states have remained paradigmatic for all Western political organization, is therefore indeed the most important material prerequisite for power.” See, e.g., Assmann, Monotheism and Its Political Consequences. See, e.g., Kipfer, “David under Threat,” 288-89. See, e.g., Schücking-Jungblut, “Political Reasons,” as well as Schücking-Jungblut, Macht und Weisheit. These are two out of the three characteristics for an “Institutionalized power” according to Popitz, Phenomena of Power, 166: “‘Institutionalized power’ points to a process – the institutionalization process – within which, as a matter of first approximation, three tendencies assert themselves. First, an increasing depersonalization of the power relation. Power no longer stands or falls with the particular person who at the moment is in charge. It becomes progressively connected with determinate functions or positions of superpersonal character. Second, an increasing formalization. The exercise of power becomes more and more strongly oriented to

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Samuel focus on power relations within the family structure. What happens in the royal family stands in direct connection to the monarchy (see ILSE MÜLLNER, Das Geschlecht der Politik. Familie und Herrschaft in der dynastischen Monarchie). Although the regularity of primogeniture cannot be proven in the Book of Samuel (nor in the ancient Near East generally), the power of the younger over the elder (see, e.g., David’s promotion over his elder brother in 1 Sam 17:13–30) is a central literary motif (see also revenge and murder between brothers in 2 Sam 13:23–29). Finally, women play an active part in maintaining and securing power (see, e.g., the influence of the king’s mother 25 and David’s marriage policy 26). It is quite remarkable how sensitive the stories are to different types of power relations, such as resistance and persuasion, and how they dissolve offender-victim structures. 27 The “private” 28 (e.g., sexual violence) is “political” and vice-versa (see, e.g., the parallel between 2 Sam 12:11b–12 and 2 Sam 16:22). There is one act which occurs repeatedly and makes this very obvious: The crying of the king is only in rare cases an expression of his personal grief; normally, it functions primarily as a means of political communication (THOMAS NAUMANN, “Der König weint” – Das öffentliche Weinen des Königs als Mittel politischer Kommunikation in alttestamentlichen Texten). Royal power itself is questioned by putting the topic of threat so prominently at the center of the whole narrative in the Book of Samuel. Two poems, Hannah’s prayer (1 Sam 2:1–10) and the Psalm in 2 Sam 22:1–51, essentially reflect on the divine transformation of power (see DAVID FIRTH, Hannah’s Prayer as Hope for and Critique of Monarchy): God turns the powerful weak and makes the powerless strong (see, e.g., 1 Sam 2:7; 2 Sam 22:28). In the further course of the story, it is precisely this inversion of the order which plays the most important role, namely, - the violent physical threat against the king’s person (e.g., the people try to stone David in 1 Sam 30:6; and Shimei threatens David in 2 Sam 16:5–14); 29 - the threat to the kingship through wars and enemy attacks (e.g., Saul and his sons are killed in battle in 1 Sam 31 – 2Sam 1; David is almost killed and finally saved by one of his heroes in 2 Sam 21:17) 30 and the revolts and rebellions (e.g., the stories of David as outlaw and Ḫapirū-leader destabilizing the

25 26

27 28 29 30

rules, procedures, rituals. […] A third feature of the progressive institutionalization of power is the increasing integration of the power relation into overriding order.” See, e.g., Knauf, “The Queens’ Story.” Marriage as a special variety of foreign policy, see Dietrich, The Early Monarchy, 210. Considering Abigail 1 Sam 25 and Bathsheba 2 Sam 11-12; 1 Kgs 1 it is maybe more appropriate to speak of the marriage plans of influential women. See for the discussion Kipfer, “Batseba und Tamar in 2Sam 11-13.” This is, of course, again a very anachronistic “Behelfsterminologie”. The expression ‫“( בקשׁ נפש‬threaten one’s life”) is mentioned seven times in direct speech to indicate that David’s life is in danger (1 Sam 19:2, 10; 20:1; 22:23; 25:29; 2 Sam 4:8; 16:11). David is depicted as aggressor, but at the same time as being attacked; his own success is mostly overshadowed by Joab’s victories. See Kipfer, Der bedrohte David, 92–97.

Introduction

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reign of Saul throughout 1 Sam 22:1–2; compare also Absalom’s revolt in 2 Sam 15–19, Sheba’s insurrection in 2 Sam 20, and Adonijah’s claim to the throne in 1 Kgs 1–2, all of which threaten David’s monarchy); 31 - and last but not least, the threat that occurs through God’s punishment (see the announcement of violence in 2 Sam 12:7b–12; famine in 2 Sam 21:1–14; and pestilence in 2 Sam 24:1–25). 32 The Book of Samuel is certainly not a glorification of the early days of the monarchy, nor does it give a simple theological explanation for the various threats to and failures of the kingship – not the rebellions against the Davidic “dynasty”, 33 and certainly no explicit thought is given to the end of Israel and Judah as kingdoms, first under the onslaught of the Assyrians and later the Babylonians. Nothing of this downfall of the monarchy is mentioned at all, even if subtle hints here and there might gesture at these events; for the most part, this consideration is relegated to the Book of Kings. Regardless of this ambivalent view with respect to the monarchy, the Book of Samuel should be recognized as an important political document that reflects on such weighty issues as power structures, access to power, and impotence and powerlessness. Interestingly, in wide swaths of the book it is the monarch – Saul or David respectively – who suffers an ignominious defeat, and it is not he himself who threatens others.

2.

The Book of Samuel as a Medium of Power Communication and a Contribution to the Political Discourse Through the Centuries

Even if one does not follow us in claiming that the Book of Samuel is somehow a reflection on royal power and “monarchy”, the reception history demonstrates that this is precisely how the Book of Samuel has been understood over the centuries. The Book of Samuel has been used as an instrument for power legitimation and delegitimating, as a toolkit to stabilize and destabilize political entities. The texts where used “for” and “against” monarchic structures 34 and had a huge impact on the political-philosophical discourse (see, e.g., Niccolò Machiavelli, Discorsi; Philipp Melanchthon, David proeliaturus; Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan; 31 32 33 34

The word ‫( קשׁר‬conspiracy) is very important here; see 1 Sam 22:8, 13; 2 Sam 15:12, 31. For an exegetical analysis see Kipfer, Der bedrohte David, 50–307; for an English summary see Kipfer, “David under Threat”. For the rebellions against the Davidic “dynasty”, see, e.g., Kipfer, Der bedrohte David, 133–137. 1 Sam 8 was used in the quarrels over the primacy of regnum vis-à-vis sacerdotium by both parties; for a research overview see Kipfer, Der bedrohte David, 339 n. 163. Similarly, 1 Sam 24 and 26 were used as an argument to legitimize and delegitimize tyrannicide; for a research overview see Kipfer, Der bedrohte David, 340–341; and DeLapp, The Reformed David(s).

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Spinoza, Tractatus Theologico-Politicus). 35 It is impossible to overestimate the huge influence the Book of Samuel has had on political treatises from antiquity to the early modern period. The Book of Samuel has been – of course alongside the influential Greek tradition – among the most important sources for theoretical reflection on politics through the centuries. The Book of Samuel thus comprises not only a collection of reflections on the monarchy, but has itself reshaped politics throughout history. It has been involved in the communication of power, both within a specific religious historical context and over a longer period time (see SARA KIPFER, Conquering all the Enemies West, East, South, and North). The Book of Samuel thus does not merely contain a story about a distant past, but has been used and reused to augment and challenge political discourse – explicitly or implicitly – until today. 36 This reception history makes it even more obvious that the Book of Samuel contains stories that are polyvalent (bedeutungsoffen) and thus open to different interpretations. It has long been noted that the Tendenzkritik does fall short and the characters (figures) in the Book of Samuel cannot be so easily differentiated into “positive” and “negative” archetypes. Studies on the main and secondary figures have repeatedly come to the conclusion that the literary figures in the Book of Samuel demonstrate moral ambiguity and ambivalence. 37 This theme is present as well on a more general level throughout the whole story. The Book of Samuel cannot be reduced merely to apology, nor can it be circumscribed as a critique of monarchy or of specific kings. Rather, it should be seen as a mixture of all these impulses (see BENJAMIN J. M. JOHNSON, An Unapologetic Apology), and thus a narrative reflecting on power structures more broadly construed. 38 Moreover, this reflection cannot be considered a static, monolithic presentation by the book’s many authors and tradents. True, the book demonstrates that power is questionable and that the behavior of kings is civilizable – but these perceptions have undergone change over the course of time. Throughout the book’s history of transmission, these changes have not been entirely covered over – rather, the sophisticated methods employed by a succession of editors have allowed brief glimpses of previous construals to irrupt through the cracks. Monarchy is therefore not something fixed once for all time, but is rather in process, continually changing and progressing (for a detailed study of these processes see JEREMY HUTTON, A Pre-Deuteronomistic Narrative Underlying the “Antimonarchic Narrative” and JOHANNES KLEIN, Dynastiekritische Vorstellungen und das Königtum). This careful treatment of tradition in the Book of Samuel should be taken as an invitation to deal with different positions in an appreciative manner. 35 36 37 38

See for more details Kipfer, Der bedrohte David, 317–319. See, e.g., Arendt, The Human Condition, 200, referring to the story of David and Goliath. See, e.g., Dietrich, Seitenblicke; Bodner / Johnson, Characters and Characterization in the Book of Samuel. For a research overview see Kipfer, Der bedrohte David, 42–49.

Introduction

3.

19

Conclusion

The Book of Samuel reflects a diverse response to monarchy. It is perhaps unremarkable that so many responses could be exhibited, since every subject of the Israelite monarchy undoubtedly had his or her own response. More remarkable, however, is the fact that this multiplicity of meanings was conserved through the processes of textual transmission and canonization. Despite its recognition as an “authoritative” religious text, the Book of Samuel remained open to different interpretations throughout the centuries and was used to both support and question monarchy. 39 The texts seem to be immune to political appropriation (politische Vereinnahmung) in a very distinctive way. The diversity of responses discernible in the book becomes even more remarkable if we are looking at identity constructions and othering (REGINE HUNZIKER-RODEWALD, Images by and Images of Philistia), and how features of the political landscape such as borders, centers, and peripheries have been constructed (MAHRI LEONARD FLECKMANN, Ally or Enemy? Politics and Identity Construction). Today, under the pretext of historical correctness, the Book of Samuel has sometimes been used for single-line interpretation. We see it, however, as our duty to conserve its variety of meaning potentials and to contribute to the ongoing discourse regarding the book’s diverse voices. The polyvalence of the Book of Samuel and its reception history should not be covered over by a scientific sovereignty of interpretation (“wissenschaftliche Deutungshoheit”) of any kind.

Bibliography Arendt, Hannah. The Human Condition. Introduction by Margaret Canovan. 2nd edition. Chicago, London: University of Chicago Press, 1998. Assmann, Jan. “Monotheism and Its Political Consequences.” Pages 141–195 in Religion and Politics. Cultural Perspectives, International Studies in Religion and Society 3. Edited by Bernhard Giesen and Daniel Šuber. Leiden: Brill, 2005. Blum, Erhard. “Ein Anfang der Geschichtsschreibung? Anmerkungen zur sog. Thronfolgegeschichte und zum Umgang mit Geschichte im alten Israel.” Pages 4–37 in Die sogenannte Thronfolgegeschichte Davids. Neue Einsichten und Anfragen. OBO 176. Edited by Albert de Pury and Thomas Römer. Fribourg, Göttingen: Universitätsverlag Freiburg, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000 Bodner, Keith and Johnson, Benjamin J. M., eds. Characters and Characterization in the Book of Samuel, Library of Hebrew Bible / Old Testament Studies 669, London, New York et al.: T&T Clark, 2019. Bultmann, Rudolf. “Is Exegesis Without Presupposition Possible?.” Pages 289–296 in Existence and Faith. Shorter Writings of Rudolf Bultmann. Translated by Schubert M. Ogden. London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1960. 39

Multiplicity of meaning, however, is not arbitrary and should not prevent critical thinking and engaging with different research positions.

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Crumley, Carole L. “Heterarchy and the Analysis of Complex Societies.” Archeological Papers of the American Anthropological Association 6 (1995): 1–5. DeLapp, Nevada Levi. The Reformed David(s) and the Question of Resistance to Tyranny: Reading the Bible in the 16th and 17th Centuries. Scriptural Traces: Critical Perspectives on the Reception and Influence of the Bible 3. LHBOTS 601. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. Dietrich, Manfried and Dietrich, Walter. “Zwischen Gott und Volk. Einführung des Königtums und Auswahl des Königs nach mesopotamischer und israelitischer Anschauung.” Pages 215–264 in: “Und Mose schrieb dieses Lied auf.” Studien zum Alten Testament und zum Alten Orient. Festschrift für Oswald Loretz. AOAT 250. Edited by Manfried Dietrich and Ingo Kottsieper. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 1998. Dietrich, Walter. The Early Monarchy in Israel: The Tenth Century B.C.E. Biblical Encyclopedia 3. Translated by Joachim Vette. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2007. ________. ed. Seitenblicke. Literarische und historische Studien zu Nebenfiguren im zweiten Samuelbuch. OBO 249. Fribourg, Göttingen: Academic Press Fribourg, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2011. ________. “Staatsbildung und frühes Königtum in Israel: Geschichte und biblische Geschichtsschreibung.” Pages 189–202 in: Walter Dietrich. Historiographie und Erzählkunst in den Samuelbüchern. Studien zu den Geschichtsüberlieferungen der Alten Testaments III. BWANT 221. Stuttgart: Verlag W. Kohlhammer, 2019. Edelman, Diana V. and Ben Zvi, Ehud, eds. Leadership, Social Memory and Judean Discourse in the 5th-2nd Centuries BCE. Worlds of the Ancient Near East and Mediterranean. Sheffield, Bristol, CT: Equinox Publishing Ltd., 2016. Eynikel, Erik. “Introduction.” Pages 1–13 in: For and Against David. Story and History in the Books of Samuel. BETL 232. Edited by A. Graeme Auld, and Erik Eynikel. Leuven, Paris, Dudley: Uitgeverij Peeters, 2010. Frankfort, Henri. Kingship and the Gods: A Study of Ancient Near Eastern Religion as the Integration of Society & Nature. 2nd edition. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1978. Gadamer, Hans-Georg. Truth and Method. Translated and revised by Joel Weinsheimer and Donald G. Marshall. London, New Delhi et al.: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2013. Gilmour, Rachelle. Representing the Past: A Literary Analysis of Narrative Historiography in the Book of Samuel. VT.S 143. Leiden: Brill, 2011. Halbertal, Moshe and Holmes, Stephen. The Beginning of Politics: Power in the Biblical Book of Samuel. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2017. Hamilton, Mark W. A Kingdom for a Stage. Political and Theological Reflection in the Hebrew Bible. FAT 116. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2018. Hill, Jane A., Jones, Philip and Morales, Antonio J., eds. Experiencing Power, Generating Authority. Cosmos, Politics, and the Ideology of Kingship in Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia. Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, 2013. Kipfer, Sara. Der bedrohte David. Eine exegetische und rezeptionsgeschichtliche Studie zu 1Sam 16 – 1Kön 2. Studies of the Bible and Its Reception 3. Berlin / Boston: Walter de Gruyter, 2015. ________. “David under Threat: An Exegetical and Reception Historical Analysis of 1Sam 16 – 1Kings 2.” Pages 283–302 in: The Books of Samuel. Stories – History – Reception History. BETL 284. Edited by Walter Dietrich. Leuven: Peeters, 2016. ________. “Batseba und Tamar in 2Sam 11-13 oder: Erzählungen jenseits von Täter-Opfer-Konstruktionen.” in Dominant, verführend, ewig schuld – Frauen im Umfeld des Herrschers. Kraftprobe Herrschaft 2. Edited by Heide Frielinghaus, Sebastian Grätz et al. Mainz: V&R Unipress, Mainz University Press, forthcoming. Knauf, Ernst Axel. “The Queens’ Story: Bathsheba, Maacah, Athaliah and the ‘Historia of Early Kings’.” Lectio Difficilior (2002): http://www.lectio.unibe.ch/02_2/axel.htm Landsberger, Benno. The Conceptual Autonomy of the Babylonian World. MANE 1/4. Malibu, CA: Undena, 1976. Levin, Christoph and Müller, Reinhard, eds. Herrschaftslegitimation in vorderorientalischen Reichen der Eisenzeit. ORA 21. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017.

Introduction

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Linke, Julia. Das Charisma der Könige. Zur Konzeption des altorientalischen Königtums im Hinblick auf Urartu. Philippika Altertumswissenschaftliche Abhandlungen 84. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2015. Neu, Rainer. Von der Anarchie zum Staat. Entwicklungsgeschichte Israels vom Nomadentum zur Monarchie im Spiegel der Ethnosoziologie. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1992. Niemann, Hermann Michael. Herrschaft, Königtum und Staat: Skizzen zur soziokulturellen Entwicklung im monarchischen Israel. FAT 6. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1993. Oswald, Wolfgang. Staatstheorie im Alten Israel: Der politische Diskurs im Pentateuch und in den Geschichtsbüchern des Alten Testaments. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2009. Popitz, Heinrich. Phenomenon of Power: Authority, Domination and Violence. Translated by Gianfranco Poggi, New York: Columbia University Press, 2017. Raaflaub, Kurt, eds. Anfänge politischen Denkens in der Antike: Die nahöstlichen Kulturen und die Griechen. Schriften des Historischen Kollegs 24. München: R. Oldenbourg Verlag, 1993. Sanders, Seth L. “From People to Public in the Iron Age Levant.” Pages 191–221 in Organization, Representation, and Symbols of Power in the Ancient Near East: Proceedings of the 54th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale at Würzburg, 20 – 25 July 2008. Edited by Gernot Wilhelm. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2012. Schloen, J. David. The House of the Father as Fact and Symbol: Patrimonialism in Ugarit and the Ancient Near East. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2001. Schücking-Jungblut, Friederike. “Political Reasons for the Success and Failure of Absalom’s Rebellion (2Sam 15–19).” VT 68 (2018): 463–474. ________. Macht und Weisheit: Untersuchungen zur politischen Anthropologie in den Erzählungen vom Absalomaufstand. FRLANT 280. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprech,t 2020. Sergi, Omer. “Israelite Identity and the Formation of the Israelite Polities in the Iron I-IIA Central Canaanite Higlands.” WdO 49 (2019): 206–235. Sigrist, Christian, ed. Macht und Herrschaft. AOAT 316. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2004. Sigrist, Christian and Neu, Rainer, eds. Die Entstehung des Königtums. Ethnologische Texte zum Alten Testament 2. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1997. Silverman, Jason M. and Waerzeggers, Caroline, eds. Political Memory in and after the Persian Empire. Ancient Near East Monographs 13. Atlanta: SBL Press, 2015. Svärd, Saana. “Women, Power, and Heterarchy in Neo-Assyrian Palaces.” Pages 507–518 in Organization, Representation, and Symbols of Power in the Ancient Near East: Proceedings of the 54th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale at Würzburg, 20 – 25 July 2008. Edited by Gernot Wilhelm. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2012. von Rad, Gerhard. “Der Anfang der Geschichtsschreibung im alten Israel.” Pages in 148–188. Gesammelte Studien zum Alten Testament. TB 8. 4th edition. Edited by Gerhard von Rad. München: Chr. Kaiser Verlag, 1971. First published in: Archiv für Kulturgeschichte 32 (1944): 1–42. ________. “Typologische Auslegung des Alten Testaments.” Evangelische Theologie 12 (1952): 17–33. Wagner-Durand, Elisabeth and Linke, Julia. “Why Study ‘Narration’ in Ancient Near Eastern Archaeology and Assyriology? – Potentials and Limitations.” Pages 289–314 in Tales of Royalty. Notions of Kingship in Visual and Textual Narration in the Ancient Near East. Edited by Elisabeth WagnerDurand and Julia Linke. Boston, Berlin: De Gruyter, 2020. Wilson, Ian D. Kingship and Memory in Ancient Judah. New York: Oxford University Press, 2017. Westermann, Claus. “Zum Geschichtsverständnis des Alten Testaments.” Pages 611–619 in Probleme biblischer Theologie: Gerhard von Rad zum 70. Geburtstag. Edited by Hans Walter Wolff. München: Chr. Kaiser Verlag, 1971.

Hannah’s Prayer as Hope for and Critique of Monarchy David G. Firth

Summary The Prayer of Hannah (1 Sam 2:1–10) is crucial for a final form reading of 1–2 Samuel. It establishes key themes and points of reference which are taken up and developed through the rest of the book. Its focus on power dynamics is particularly important for understanding the book’s view of politics. This is evident from the prevalence of the reversal of fortunes motif with the powerful brought down and the poor raised up. It thus critiques the powerful who do not align themselves with Yahweh. Yet, it also closes with reference to Yahweh giving strength to his king. Since there is no king at this point this establishes the hope for a king, but at the same time it critiques traditional views of kingship since this king cannot claim power for himself but only that which Yahweh gives. Das Gebet der Hanna (1 Sam 2,1–10) ist entscheidend für die Lektüre des Endtextes von 1-2 Samuel. Es legt Schlüsselthemen und Bezugspunkte fest, die im weiteren Verlauf des Buches aufgegriffen und entwickelt werden. Sein Schwerpunkt auf Machtdynamiken ist besonders wichtig für das Verständnis der politischen Sichtweise des Buches. Dies zeigt sich an der Vorherrschaft des Motivs der Umkehrung der Ordnung, bei dem die Mächtigen zu Fall gebracht und die Armen emporgehoben werden. Damit kritisiert es die Mächtigen, die sich nicht an Jhwh binden. Allerdings schließt es aber auch mit dem Hinweis darauf, dass Jhwh seinem König Stärke verleiht. Da es zu dem Zeitpunkt keinen König gibt, begründet es die Hoffnung auf einen zukünftigen König, kritisiert aber herkömmliche Ansichten über das Königtum, da dieser König keine Macht für sich beanspruchen kann, sondern nur soviel Macht erhält, wie Jhwh ihm zugesteht.

1.

Introduction

In their often rather entertaining analysis, Halbertal and Holmes observe that the author of Samuel did not write a political book but rather “a book about politics.” 1 One does not have to agree with their rejection of the place of diachronic readings of Samuel to appreciate the value of their observation. That is, although they are inherently suspicious of the claims that are often made about sources or elements of the narrative that are pro- or anti-David (or monarchy more generally), their basic stance does provide an approach to the text which is constructive for thinking about the place of monarchy within Samuel. If we understand politics as the process and means by which power relations are explored 1

Halbertal and Holmes, Beginning of Politics, 2 (emphasis original).

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David G. Firth

and enacted within a society, then much of Samuel is indeed a book about politics, tracing the move away from the priestly power centre at Shiloh to the establishment of monarchy, with the latter consolidated under David after the initial experience of monarchy under Saul. Of course, the book has to negotiate a careful balance between the possibility of human monarchy and the reign of Yahweh, since Yahweh’s kingship is itself a crucial dimension of the book’s perspective on politics. In particular, it is God’s kingship which is particularly under challenge in 1 Samuel 1–12. 2 It is the need to balance these elements which means that close attention is given to key prophetic figures through the book, not only Samuel himself, but also an unnamed man of God (1 Sam 2:27–36), Gad (1 Sam 22:1–5, 2 Sam 24:11–18) and Nathan (2 Sam 7:1–17, 12:1–15a). 3 This is (in part) why Polzin can claim that a key issue within Samuel is the question of how Israel can honour both Yahweh and their king. 4 While therefore agreeing with Halbertal and Holmes that Samuel is a book about politics, this paper parts ways with them at several key points. First, although it offers a final form reading of Samuel, it does not do so from the perspective that source analysis (and the possibility of identifying redactional layers) is an unnecessary task. Parsing those sources (and possible layers within the text) is not a significant goal here, but it seems much more likely that the book draws together a range of sources than being a text composed from a whole cloth. This is not the same as affirming the source divisions that dominated much of twentieth-century research on Samuel, 5 so much as recognising that Samuel is composed of quite diverse materials – most obviously, the division between narrative texts and inset poems. 6 Although it is certainly not impossible that a single author might have composed a text that includes these materials, the fact that one of the inset poems (2 Sam 1:17–27) is attributed to a specific source (The Book of Jashar) shows that the text itself recognises that this material does not come from the same place as the prose narrative. 7 In this way,

2 3 4 5 6 7

As argued by Eslinger, Kingship of God. Depending on how we translate ‫ הרואה אתה‬at 2 Sam 15:27, Zadok the priest might also be considered a prophetic figure, though this is not a significant element in his characterisation. Polzin, Samuel and the Deuteronomist, 47. For which, see Firth, 1 & 2 Samuel: A Kingdom Comes, 41–50. See Watts, Psalms and Story, 345–358, for a discussion of this phenomenon. On the Book of Jashar, see also Josh 10:13. The reliability of this claim about the Book of Jashar in Samuel is not essential to this point. Rather, the claim here is a smaller one – that the book itself claims that this material came from another source, though if this claim is reliable then it could well be a pointer to the way in which all the inset poems in Samuel were held prior to their incorporation into Samuel. One can also point to the parallel between 2 Samuel 22 and Psalm 18 since it is (essentially) the same text in both places. However, it probably has its own redactional history, something which has been interpreted in quite different ways (for one proposal of this, see Adam, Der Königliche Held, 128–144. Apart from some Psalter level redactions, Adam argues for a Fortschreibung in verses 21–32, 44a), along with competing arguments as to whether Samuel, Psalms or a third text was the original source. All of this makes it a more com-

Hannah’s Prayer as Hope for and Critique of Monarchy

25

Samuel shows that it is a complex text, and therefore the presence of layers within it is a reasonable assumption. But although this complexity does mean that there are points of tension within the text, a final form reading can still focus on how these elements are held together within the text. That is, while accepting that there are tensions within Samuel, tensions which can be analysed in terms of source and redaction, a final form reading asks how these elements coexist but without denying the importance of more diachronic questions. 8 Indeed, a key element of the reading proposed here is that Hannah’s prayer (1 Sam 2:1–10) comes from a distinct source which has been integrated into the larger narrative, one in which both its distinctiveness and its integration into the narrative are constituent for its meaning. Second, while establishing the divine viewpoint on dynastic monarchy, Halbertal and Holmes argue that this model of politics was a human choice, not Yahweh’s one. This came about because, even after being warned about its risks, Israel had still insisted on having a king. It was something therefore that Yahweh permitted, so that the stories of both Saul and David were, in effect, an experiment in politics. 9 But this reading depends (more or less) on bracketing 1 Samuel 1–7 out of the discussion, and indeed these chapters play no discernible role in their proposal. In that the formal move to kingship only begins at 1 Samuel 8, with the elders’ request to Samuel (1 Sam 8:4–6), there is some warrant for this approach, and this explains their subsequent focus on Saul and David, not least because of their view that the author of Samuel was a careful observer of political structures within Israel, something that would make more sense when there was a court that could be observed. Such a bracketing of this material has a long history, 10 but one should note alongside this those studies that have worked with a more integrated approach to these chapters. 11 In particular, the view advanced here is that the reference to a king in Hannah’s prayer (1 Sam 2:10), though at one level clearly anachronistic in that it seems to assume a king before there was a process for one being recognised, serves to ensure that in a book about politics, this prayer provides a framework for interpreting that king. This is because the king is mentioned within the context of a prayer about the reversal of fortunes, one in which the weak are raised up and the powerful brought down. The inclusion of the prayer at this point is a key mechanism for arguing that if Israel is to have a king, it is to be one that is (in some ways) unlike those of the nations. That

8

9 10 11

plex example, though I would contend that the most likely interpretation is that this too comes from a source different from the prose narrative material. Even the concept of ‘final form’ is itself contested, something that is increasingly evident as we explore the variety of textual traditions behind Samuel. We cannot explore this matter in detail here beyond noting that MT cannot be assumed to represent the final form, though it is probably the most important vehicle for exploring the final form. Halbertal and Holmes, Beginning of Politics, 15. See, for example, Birch, The Rise of the Israelite Monarchy. Birch does consider chapter 7, but it is less significant for him than what follows. E.g. Green, How Are the Mighty Fallen?

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is, by introducing reference to a king at this point, the final form of the Book of Samuel has already raised the question of politics, and in particular of monarchy. But in doing so in this manner, it raises questions about what a king in Israel is to be like.

2.

Hannah’s Prayer in the Final Form of Samuel

Although Hannah’s prayer can be studied more or less as a discrete text in its own right, 12 our concerns here are with its place in the Book of Samuel as we now have it. This approach means we can accept that the prayer was not itself originally part of the narrative material in which it is now embedded, even if at least part of it can be considered as fairly ancient. 13 This is evident from the fact that we can read straight from 1 Sam 1:28 to 1 Sam 2:11 without sensing that anything is missing. 14 Apart from this, the clearly elevated language of the prayer compared to the text around it shows that it is material of a decidedly different cast from the surrounding narrative, and indeed it makes no direct contribution to the plot development in that setting. Although source and redactional readings of Samuel have accordingly engaged in the process of peeling back these various layers, a final form reading of Samuel is concerned with how a text which is so clearly distinct from the material around it is to be read within this setting. 15 That is, while recognising that it creates some tension with the surrounding text, this reading explores how these tensions are themselves important for understanding its contribution to the book. 16 From this, it will be possible to develop Childs’ insight that the prayer represents a hermeneutical key for understanding Samuel’s theocentric perspective. 17 Accordingly, this reading is concerned to explore the prayer in three ways, each of which takes seriously the final form of Samuel. First, it attends to the prayer itself since the shape of the book now provides it with particular importance because of its distinctive form. By placing a poem which does not 12 13

14 15

16 17

As we see in, for example, Becker-Spörl, “Und Hanna betete, und sie sprach…”. Dietrich, 1 Sam 1–12, 77–81, believes the poem itself contains an initial stratum from pre-exilic Judah which has been supplemented substantially by a post-exilic reworking, but for our purposes the text will be considered as a whole. As is evident from the apparatus of BHS, the textual complexity behind 1 Sam 1:28b suggests it might also be a gloss, but this does not affect the main point. I explore this more fully in Firth, “Hannah’s Prayer (1 Sam. 2:1–10): On the Interface of Poetics and Ethics in an Embedded Poem.” For a model which explores the interrelationship between the development of a text and its final form with reference to Samuel, see the helpful study of Käser, Literaturwissenschaftliche Interpretation und historische Exegese. To set this in the wider context of Samuel studies, see Firth, “Some Reflections,” 7–12. On this approach, see also Bailey, “The Redemption of Yahweh,” 215. Childs, Introduction, 273.

Hannah’s Prayer as Hope for and Critique of Monarchy

27

develop the plot line at this point, its distinctiveness as a text is more easily recognised, and its larger function within Samuel does not limit this. But second, it explores the intratextual links created between the poem and the rest of the book. That is, it understands this poem as an intentional part of the book, and notes important ways in which its themes and language are picked up elsewhere in the book. These links are especially important in the prayer’s relationship to Samuel’s other principal poems, 18 though there are also important points to be noted in the narrative prose material. Finally, because we are concerned with the issue of monarchy, it explores the ways in which the distinctive elements of the poem and the intratextual links create a dialogue with one another in the book, a dialogue which manages to hold out the hope of monarchy whilst also providing a critique of how it functioned in practice. For reasons of length, only a sketch is offered for each element of this reading, though the main directions should be clear from this. Through this, it is hoped that Miscall’s claim that the prayer “offers much but produces little” will be shown to have missed key elements in its contribution. 19

3.

Hannah’s Prayer as a Discrete Text

A first consideration of this poem is to consider it as a text in its own right. In that our concern is ultimately with its contribution to the book’s understanding of monarchy, we do not here attend to the major structural elements of this as a piece of poetry beyond noting that its clearly elevated language means it stands out immediately from the prose around it. Likewise, contested issues of interpretation not related to the issue of monarchy are not treated. 20 The repetition of the root ‫ רום‬+ ‫ קרן‬in 1 Sam 2:1 and 10 also provide an inclusion to mark the boundaries of the text, 21 boundaries that are also indicated by an indication of direct speech immediately prior to the poem (1 Sam 2:1a) 22 and a waw-consecutive construction at the start of 1 Sam 2:11, both of which clearly belong to prose rather than poetry. Quite apart, therefore, from its lack of contribution to the plot at this point, the combination of the poem’s own boundaries and the use of 18

19 20 21 22

2 Sam 1:17–27, 22:1–51, 23:1–7, all poems which stand outside of the plot development within the book. These can be distinguished from the minor poems (1 Sam 18:7, 21:11, 29:5, 2 Sam 3:33– 34), each of which do have an immediate function within the plot, even if 1 Sam 21:11 and 29:5 are themselves a citation of 1 Sam 18:7. In addition, the major and minor poems can be separated by the criterion of length. Miscall, 1 Samuel, 16. Though see Firth, 1 & 2 Samuel, 59–62. In Dietrich’s redactional analysis, 1 Sam 1–12, 78, this inclusion belongs to the pre-exilic layer. This observation holds true even if, with Lewis, “The Textual History of the Song of Hannah”, 25, and Tsumura, The First Book of Samuel, 136, we hold that the verb ‫ פלל‬be omitted given its absence in some LXX manuscripts, though this datum can be explained in other ways.

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linking material make clear that it has been placed here in a way that does not diminish its distinctiveness. Although the poem employs a range of poetic strategies, it is sufficient for us to note the shift from first to third person which is integrated into the poem. 23 The poet begins by expressing their own delight in what Yahweh has done for them, their “horn” having been lifted high by Yahweh. In that the “horn” is a symbol for strength, this could suggest that the poem’s original background is to be found in a thanksgiving for a military victory. It is, however, also possible that such language might have been adapted from a range of other settings given the flexibility with which language of the enemies is used within the Psalms, not all of which needs to refer to armies. 24 That is, the poet’s own claim does not have to originate in a military victory, though the language on which the poem draws most probably did. Perhaps more strikingly, although this is a thanksgiving poem, comparatively little of it is actually addressed to Yahweh. Rather, like a number of thanksgiving psalms, 25 it is written with multiple audiences in mind, so that the address shifts between a congregation who are presumed to be hearing it and Yahweh. 26 But only twice is Yahweh addressed directly – once through a pronominal suffix at the end of verse 1, and then in an aside in verse 2. In the rest of the poem, Yahweh is spoken of in the third person, as indeed are the other figures mentioned in the poem. By contrast, a congregation of some sort is assumed to be hearing this thanksgiving. They are explicitly included through the first-person plural suffix on ‫ כאלהינו‬at the end of verse 2. The poet reflects personally on what Yahweh has done, but these actions are not for the poet alone. Instead, they provide a pattern for those who hear the thanksgiving which is offered. But this audience is then addressed directly at the start of 1 Sam 2:3 – ‫אל־תברו תדברו גבהה גבהה יצא עתק מפיכם‬. In spite of the text-critical problems some of this verse poses, the fact remains that the congregation is here addressed directly as the poem shifts from the predominantly first-person declarations of 1 Sam 2:1–2 (whether singular or plural) to a second-person plural admonition which is directed to the congregation that hears the poem. From this point on, the poem is exclusively in the third person, all of it demonstrating why it is inappropriate for those who heard the poem to engage in an excess of speech, especially lofty or arrogant words. Reasons for this are introduced by a series of ‫ כי‬clauses (commencing in 1 Sam 2:3b) which explain why, in light of Yahweh’s character as revealed in his actions, such 23 24

25 26

Again, this feature is present in both levels of redaction in Dietrich’s analysis, 1 Sam 1–12, 78. With Anderson, “Enemies and Evildoers in the Psalms,” 16–29, it is better to understand the language of the “enemies” in the Psalms as reflecting a wide range of settings using stereotypical language rather than always coming out of a military context. For earlier attempts to tie all these references to military settings, see Birkeland, Die Feinde des Individuums, and, idem, The Evildoers in the Book of Psalms. For a critique of Birkeland, see Croft, The Identity of the Individual, 20–48. E.g. Psalm 30. On this phenomenon more widely in Psalms, see Firth, “Psalms of Testimony,” 440–454.

Hannah’s Prayer as Hope for and Critique of Monarchy

29

speech is inappropriate. That is, although cast as a thanksgiving, the poem aims to reshape an audience that encounters it so that they do not resist Yahweh. The most important element in the description of Yahweh’s character is seen in the reversal of fortunes motif which runs through verses 4–9. Each of these in some ways validates the claim of verse 3b, ‫כי אל דעות יהוה ולו נתכנו עללות‬. 27 If Yahweh knows what is done, and weighs human actions, then the implication is that he addresses inequities in the world. The nature of this process is seen in the series of reverses which in various ways contrast the experience of the powerful who are brought down and the weak who are in some way raised up. Although no one in particular is said to bring about these changes in verses 4–5, the clear implication is that it is Yahweh who is at work, and this becomes explicit from verse 6 as each example of reversal is explicitly associated with him. All of this reaches its climax in verse 9 in its comparison between those who are loyal to Yahweh (‫ )חסידיו‬28 and kept by him with the wicked who are silenced in darkness. Hence, up to that point the reversal had been declared, but only at this point does the poem reveal the basis for the reversal – loyalty to Yahweh. Although not uniquely so, most of the actions associated with Yahweh within the poem are also those associated with kingship – kings (at least notionally) provided security by defeating enemies, ensured there was food and provided for the poor. But these otherwise royal motifs are here associated with Yahweh. In that the motif of Yahweh as king is widespread within the Old Testament, and in particular in Psalms, 29 this is not of itself surprising. But the introduction of at least potentially royal motifs here is notable, because although it might therefore be thought of as preparation for a declaration of Yahweh’s kingship, the poem instead points to Yahweh exalting his king, raising the king’s horn. Within a poem which itself celebrates the reversals that Yahweh brings about, ensuring provision for the weak, the final reversal is therefore the raising up of his own king. This reversal includes the fact that even though Yahweh is king, he apparently knows and therefore chooses human kingship. Within the larger parameters of the poem, this king would himself have begun in a lowly position in order to fit the framework of the poem since raising one who is already powerful would stand against the pattern found within the poem. Yahweh has a king who he strengthens, but this king comes from a position of weakness. The audience addressed by the poet are thus reminded of two key elements regarding Yahweh’s king. First, Yahweh knows and weighs deeds, and brings 27 28 29

Here, following Qere and many manuscripts, and reading ‫ ולו‬rather than Kethib ‫ולא‬. Following Qere rather than Kethib ‫חסידו‬. On the other complex text-critical issues affecting verses 8–9, see Firth, 1 & 2 Samuel, 52. E.g., Psalm 97 celebrates Yahweh’s kingship (however we translate ‫)יהוה מלך‬, and in this psalm it is noted (v. 10) that he keeps (‫ )שׁמר‬the life of his ‫חסיד‬, delivering them from the ‫רשׁע‬, language that is close to that of 1 Sam 2:9. There are, of course, numerous similarities between Hannah’s prayer and Psalm 113 (see, e.g. Steinmann, 1 Samuel, 80), but these are not explicitly royal in that Psalm.

30

David G. Firth

down those who use power for themselves. To oppose Yahweh’s king is therefore to demonstrate that one is among the powerful who will be brought down. Rather, to be kept by Yahweh is to acknowledge his king. But second, this king is not someone who might automatically have been considered eligible for such a position. If Yahweh raises the poor and needy so they are seated with princes (‫נדיבים‬, v. 8), then the king Yahweh has raised up and will strengthen is either not himself one of the powerful or is at least one who accepts that kings reign only because of Yahweh’s authority. The poem presumes the existence of a king, though already it lays out the conditions for a possible critique of monarchy that does not conform to the patterns within the prayer.

4.

Hannah’s Prayer as an Embedded Text

Although Hannah’s prayer can be recognised as a discrete text, we now find it as an embedded poem. This is evident from the fact that each of the markers outlined by Watts for identifying such poems are present. 30 − It is narratively marked as distinct. That the key verb here is ‫ פלל‬means that the embedded text is not required to be poetry, though the same verb is also used in Jonah 2:1 to introduce a poem. − Its rhetoric reinforces its status through self-designation. In this case, Hannah speaks initially of her heart exulting, and this is then emphasised through the reference to rejoicing with which verse 1 closes. − Although imperatives are more common, in this case the audience is addressed through the negation at the start of verse 3. However, since Hebrew does not have a mode of negating the imperative then this is a functional equivalent, reflecting the more admonitionary tone deployed here. These features are useful for identifying the presence of an embedded poem as a discrete text, but it is also worth noting that such poems typically show some level of integration to their surrounding narrative, even if they might stand in some tension with them. 31 Watts argues that such poems seldom contribute to the plot. 32 Taken at the level of Hannah’s own story within Samuel this is true as her prayer is a triumphant conclusion to her experience to that point. But although this general observation might be true for other embedded poems, in 30 31

32

Watts, “This Song,” 345–348. Watts, “This Song,” 352. For example, if taken literally as a reference to Hannah, the mention of the barren bearing seven children (v. 5) stands in some tension since at this point of the narrative since she has borne only one child, and even the reference to her other children (1 Sam 2:21) only gives her six children in total. But it may be that pressing this point goes beyond the poem’s function here since most of the other examples of the reversal of fortune are not specific to Hannah, so an exact fit with her circumstances is not expressly required. Watts, “This Song,” 352–353.

Hannah’s Prayer as Hope for and Critique of Monarchy

31

this case it will be seen that the poem does function to raise thematic issues that are addressed elsewhere in Samuel, especially in the other principal poems. It does not therefore advance the micro-plot for Hannah’s story, but rather serves as an example of prolepsis for the macro-plot of Samuel as a whole. A crucial element in reading embedded poems is that they enable the narrator of a text to address its audience through the poem. This is because the normal convention of Hebrew narrative is to present the story in the third person, following the characters in their various actions and reporting them but not speaking directly to the audience. 33 Within Samuel, instances of the narrator breaking with this model apart from the principal poems are scarce – only in 1 Sam 2:12, 27:6, 30:6b, 2 Sam 11:27b, 17:14b and 24:1 does the narrator address readers directly. In each of these instances, such a shift in narration is necessitated either by the fact that there is nothing the narrator can report within the story that demonstrates the point being made or because of a need to foreground a key element within the story. That is, breaking the wall between the reader and narrator is done because of the need to highlight an evaluative point. Elsewhere in Samuel, the narrator (usually with great skill) recounts events in such a way as to make clear the key themes without needing to address readers directly. But in contrast to the more common patterns of narration, an embedded poem is voiced by someone within the narrative, with the character often addressing Yahweh. In Samuel’s principal poems this is certainly true of 1 Sam 2:1– 10 and 2 Sam 22:1–51. David’s “Last Words” (2 Sam 23:1–7) are different in that they are presented as an oracle (‫ )נעם‬so that Yahweh’s Spirit speaks through David. 34 David’s lament over Saul and Jonathan (2 Sam 1:17–27), as is typical for the ‫קינה‬, is addressed directly to an audience, though as a funeral text Yahweh is presumably intended to overhear. 35 We have already noted that Hannah’s prayer directly addresses an implied audience, and the same is true in 2 Sam 22:1–51, where the audience is addressed directly in verses 31–32. But as embedded texts, the audience that is now addressed directly through each of these poems are those who read the books of Samuel. 36 Although the narrator is able to report these poems as being spoken by a character within the narrative, each also becomes a means for addressing readers indirectly through the speech of the characters rather than the more direct form used elsewhere. This is because the audience now presumed for the poem has become the readers of the book. How then might these readers explore the impact of the prayer within Samuel? 33 34 35 36

Though for a reading of Hannah’s story which attempts this, see Green, How are the Mighty Fallen, 89–96. On the distinctiveness of David’s experience of the Spirit as a feature of Samuel, see Firth, “The Historical Books,” 20. Note that the ‫ קינה‬in 2 Sam 3:33–34 also follows this pattern. Ancient texts would often be read aloud to an audience; I include for convenience such groups under the label of “readers.”

32

David G. Firth

An initial exploration of an embedded poem involves reflection on its immediate context. Here, it is clear that Hannah’s prayer does not advance the plot to this point. Rather, it is presented as her response to Samuel’s birth and subsequent dedication at the temple in Shiloh. In that the story to this point has not mentioned kingship, reference to a king in the prayer might seem strange. But as is well known, there are numerous allusions to Saul in 1 Samuel 1, 37 and these at least provide hints about monarchy. Along with this, various elements point to Eli as representing a type of “pseudo-monarch,” 38 most notably the reference in 1 Sam 1:9 to his chair as a “throne” (‫ )כסא‬which was situated in the “temple” (‫)היכל‬, the latter of course also carrying the sense of “palace.” Although monarchy is not overtly referenced in 1 Samuel 1, there are elements to which a reader might return after encountering reference to Yahweh’s king in Hannah’s prayer and so make connections to the narrative to this point. Likewise, even though Hannah has not become the mother of seven (and never is), her story is a clear example of someone who has been “raised up” as she has been transformed from being childless to a mother. Hannah’s prayer also establishes some key themes that are picked up through linguistic association with other parts of the narrative. One key association is through the verb ‫ רעם‬which Hannah uses to describe how Yahweh will act against his enemies (1 Sam 2:10). In describing how Peninnah would formerly treat Hannah, the narrator reports that she would vex (‫ )כעס‬Hannah ‫בעבור הרעמה‬. Although usually lost in translation to English, the use of the root ‫ רעם‬here is best understood in the final form of Samuel as preparing for the occurrence of this same root in the prayer. But there is also a more explicit recurrence of this root in the battle against the Philistines in 1 Sam 7:12 where Yahweh’s thunder throws them into confusion so they are routed before Israel. Within the prayer, reference to Yahweh acting in this way occurs immediately prior to mention of the king, and other than the report of the failings of Samuel’s sons (1 Sam 8:1– 3), it is notable that this victory and its aftermath occurs immediately prior to the initial request for a king from the elders (1 Sam 8:4–5). Moreover, this verb occurs in only one other place in Samuel, in David’s report of how Yahweh delivered him from distress in his song of celebration (2 Sam 22:14). But David’s song is also closed with reference to Yahweh’s commitment to his king (2 Sam 22:51), part of a range of verbal links that join all four of Samuel’s major songs. 39 The most obvious link between the major songs is that they are all, in some way, associated with the motif of kingship. As might be expected given the overall interest in David, he gradually emerges within them as the right king for Israel, 40 but there are key elements which show development between them. 37 38 39 40

Cf. Dietrich, 1 Samuel 1–12, 29–30; Firth, 1 & 2 Samuel, 53. Polzin, Samuel and the Deuteronomist, 23–24. On this as evidence that the four songs may have been drawn from a common source, see Firth, 1& 2 Samuel, 29–30. All include the word ‫משיח‬, though in David’s lament the sense is clearly very different.

Hannah’s Prayer as Hope for and Critique of Monarchy

33

Hannah’s prayer has at least allowed for the possibility of a king, 41 something echoed within Samuel’s opening with the mention of Yahweh’s anointed in the oracle of the man of God at Shiloh (1 Sam 2:35). In Hannah’s prayer, the king is unnamed, while in David’s lament we have reached the point where Saul and Jonathan’s deaths can be noted, thus preparing for the transition to David’s reign. In David’s song of celebration, David is only named as the king at the poem’s conclusion (2 Sam 22:51), though this then prepares for David’s “Last Words” where David is presented as offering advice on the appropriate mode for rule in the fear of God (2 Sam 23:3b–4), something that can be passed on to his house. Although a full study of these poems goes beyond what is possible here, it is notable that these poems gradually explore a pattern of kingship that is similar to that hinted at in Hannah’s prayer, in which the king does not achieve victory in his own strength, but rather in Yahweh’s. Indeed, in another important verbal link, where Hannah’s prayer had noted that Yahweh would exalt the “horn” (‫ )קרן‬of his king, in David’s celebration song it is Yahweh who is the “horn” of his salvation. 42 At no point in these poems is the king presented as a heroic figure – even where David celebrates victories in 2 Sam 22:32–49, it is made clear that it was finally Yahweh who was the victor, even if he acted through his king. It is Yahweh who exalts, not the king himself. This is consistent with Hannah’s prayer. But by placing the song of celebration within the Samuel Conclusion, a text which narratively occurred early in David’s reign is only recounted near the end of the book, creating an analepsis which requires readers to go back over earlier material. This function for the celebration song is then reinforced through it being paired with David’s Last Words, a text which is also slightly displaced narratively (since it is presumably later in narrative time than 2 Samuel 24), its displacement also leading readers to use it as an evaluative text through which they are to read the previous narratives. Within the final form of Samuel, each poem is voiced by a character within the narrative, and each in some way includes a reflection on kingship. Although those reflections were presumably originally addressed to another audience, through them the narrator is able to address the book’s readers so that they too reflect on several key themes with kingship prominent among them.

41 42

For which reason Klement, 2 Samuel 21 – 24, 112–113, argues that it is presented as a work of prophecy. As a narrative aside, in a book that regards David as the authentic king, it may be significant that although David is anointed from a horn (‫)קרן‬, Saul is anointed from a flask (‫)פך‬, perhaps a hint that Saul is not yet the approved king. The word ‫ קרן‬does not occur outside of these passages.

34

5.

David G. Firth

Hope for and Critique of Monarchy

The evidence examined to this point has noted that although Hannah’s prayer can be read as a discrete text, its embedded status also means that it contributes to a significant reflection on kingship as Hannah’s voice becomes one deployed by the narrator, both to hope for kingship and also to critique potential expressions of it. This double focus is important as the book negotiates different understandings of kingship, ultimately affirming David as Yahweh’s (admittedly very fallible) king, while also showing that Israel could be tempted to follow models of kingship that were not consistent with Yahweh’s purposes. The pattern of critique and hope is itself already present in Hannah’s prayer. Most notably, it consistently emphasises that Yahweh brings down the powerful and raises the weak. Almost by definition, this runs counter to standard patterns of kingship in which the powerful claim the throne and hold onto it by the exertion of their own strength. Although ANE kings would routinely claim that they came to the throne because of the choice of a deity, this would typically be demonstrated through their military prowess. But Hannah’s prayer has indicated that those who attempt to claim or hold power through such activity are among those who Yahweh brings down. Yahweh is, according to Hannah, to strengthen his king and exalt the power of his anointed. The prayer has announced a king, but in a context that raises important questions about the nature of this king. Given the emphasis on care for the poor which runs through the prayer, it is reasonable to assume that the king would have this as a priority, 43 but the king that is envisaged here is relatively unlike most other kings because the prayer presumes that the king cannot seek to grasp power. Otherwise, they will become another one who is brought down. Reading the story of kingship in the rest of Samuel is then enriched through this perspective. When Samuel responds to the request of the elders with his famed discussion of how the king will “take” (1 Sam 8:10–18), he is describing a king who functions on the traditional pattern of the ANE, but not the sort of king envisaged here. Even before Samuel speaks, Yahweh has already told him that the elders have not rejected Samuel, they have rejected Yahweh from being their king (1 Sam 8:7) and that his warning to the people is to be in light of that. If Hannah’s prayer has already shown that the true functions of kingship belong to Yahweh (even as Yahweh also works with his king), then this creates a context in which Samuel is warning about a king unlike the one spoken of in Hannah’s prayer. More broadly, both the story of the ark (1 Sam 4:1b–7:1) and the victory over the Philistines (1 Sam 7:2–17) had shown that Yahweh could win battles

43

Scheffler, “Royal Care for the Poor in Israel’s First History,” 164–165, stresses the importance of the poor within the prayer when read through the lens of Deut 17:14–20.

Hannah’s Prayer as Hope for and Critique of Monarchy

35

without any king, 44 something that also problematises the final reason given for having a king (1 Sam 8:19–20). But given that Hannah’s prayer has already shown Yahweh breaking his adversaries (1 Sam 2:10), this should not come as a surprise. Hannah’s prayer has thus problematised the request of the elders for a king even as it has simultaneously announced the possibility of such a king. The rest of Samuel can then be considered as a political text which works out what sort of king Israel is to have – either a king for whom power is not an end in itself and who accepts that Yahweh is the real king, or a king who looks to accumulate power and wealth for himself. As the narrative plays out, neither Saul nor David can truly be said to demonstrate the model of kingship envisioned by Hannah’s prayer, but in David’s celebration and last words he comes to express perspectives close to those of Hannah. Within the book, he is far from the king envisioned by her prayer, but the David of Samuel ultimately recognises that this is the sort of king he must be. That is why he must choose to cast himself upon Yahweh in the plague narrative (2 Sam 24:14), recognising that in the census he has (in some way) sinned (2 Sam 24:10). His celebration song appreciates that a king triumphs only through Yahweh, while his last words are a rejection of reign that does not understand its relationship to God, a relationship that finds a close pattern in Hannah’s prayer. Saul, by contrast, is shown as one who grasps at power for himself, most tragically when his challenge to his fellow Benjaminites presumes that the task of kingship is to accumulate wealth to share with his close supporters (1 Sam 22:7). Loyalty in this model is based on the king’s ability to hold wealth and power and to share it with his supporters, the antithesis of the pattern of Hannah’s prayer.

6.

Conclusion

Hannah’s prayer plays a pivotal role within the final form of Samuel. Through it, the narrator is able to speak to the audience which reads the text through Hannah, with Hannah’s voice and the narrator’s voice converging with one another. The prayer outlines a model of kingship which is quite unlike others, one in which the king is not someone who holds wealth and power. Instead, the king recognises Yahweh as the true king. The prayer does accept that Yahweh will raise up his king and grant him some power – just never enough for the king to be more than Yahweh’s vassal, someone who is bound to the commitments to justice that Yahweh elsewhere expresses. But this contribution to the book’s final form is not achieved by ignoring the separate origin of the prayer – indeed, contrary to Halbertal and Holmes, we have argued that appreciating this is a vital part of understanding how an embedded poem speaks within a narrative 44

Firth, “Play It Again Sam,” 12–15.

36

David G. Firth

like Samuel. But its separate origin does not mean we simply delete it as a secondary accretion. Rather, appreciating this is crucial for understanding how it functions with Samuel to create a dialogue with other parts of the book and especially the other principal poems, to express a critical hope for monarchy, one that still hopes for Yahweh’s king, but not any king. In so doing, it creates a crucial tension about the nature of kingship that the rest of Samuel must negotiate.

Bibliography Adam, Klaus-Peter. Der Königliche Held: Die Entsprechung von kämpfendem Gott und kämpfendem König in Psalm 18. WMANT 91. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2001. Anderson, George W. “Enemies and Evildoers in the Psalms.” BJRL 48 (1965): 16–29. Bailey, Randall C. “The Redemption of Yahweh: A Literary Critical Function of the Songs of Hannah and David.” BibInt 3 (1995): 213–231. Becker-Spörl, Silvia. “Und Hanna betete, und sie sprach…” Literarische Untersuchungen zu 1 Sam 1, 1-10. THLI 2. Tübingen: Francke, 1992. Birch, Bruce C. The Rise of the Israelite Monarchy: The Growth and Development of 1 Samuel 7 – 15. SBL Dissertation Series 27. Missoula: Scholars Press, 1976. Birkeland, Harris. Die Feinde des Individuums in der israelitischen Psalmenliteratur. Oslo: Grøndahl and Sons, 1933. ________. The Evildoers in the Book of Psalms. Oslo: Jacob Dybwad, 1955. Childs, Brevard S. Introduction to the Old Testament as Scripture. London: SCM Press, 1979. Croft, Steven J. L. The Identity of the Individual in the Psalms. JSOTSup 44. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1987. Dietrich, Walter. 1 Samuel 1–12. BKAT 8.1. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2011. Eslinger, Lyle M. The Kingship of God in Crisis: A Close Reading of 1 Samuel 1 – 12. BiLiSe 10. Sheffield: Almond Press, 1985. Firth, David G. “Play It Again Sam: The Poetics of Narrative Repetition in 1 Samuel 1 – 7.” Tyndale Bulletin 56 (2005): 1–17. ________. 1 & 2 Samuel. AOTC. Nottingham: Apollos, 2009. ________. “Hannah’s Prayer (1 Sam. 2:1–10): On the Interface of Poetics and Ethics in an Embedded Poem.” In New Song: Biblical Hebrew Poetry as Jewish and Christian Scripture for the 21st Century. Edited by Richard S. Briggs, Stephen Campbell and Richard G. Rohlfing. Bellingham: Lexham, forthcoming. ________. “Psalms of Testimony.” OTE 12 (1999): 440–454. ________. “Some Reflections on Current Narrative Research on the Book of Samuel.” STR 10 (2019): 3– 31. ________. “The Historical Books.” Pages 12–23 in A Biblical Theology of the Holy Spirit. Edited by Trevor J. Burke and Keith Warrington. London: SPCK, 2014. ________. 1 & 2 Samuel: A Kingdom Comes. London: Bloomsbury T & T Clark, 2017. Green, Barbara. How Are the Mighty Fallen? A Dialogical Study of King Saul in 1 Samuel. JSOTSup 365. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003. Halbertal, Moshe and Holmes, Stephen. The Beginning of Politics: Power in the Biblical Book of Samuel. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2017. Käser, Andreas. Literaturwissenschaftliche Interpretation und historische Exegese: Die Erzählung von David und Batseba als Fallbeispiel. BWANT 211. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2016. Klement, Herbert H. 2 Samuel 21 – 24: Context, Structure and Meaning in the Samuel Conclusion. EHS, XXIII Theologie 682. Bern et al.: Peter Lang, 2000.

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Lewis, Theodore J. “The Textual History of the Song of Hannah: 1 Samuel ii 1 – 10.” VT 44 (1994): 18– 46. Miscall, Peter D. 1 Samuel: A Literary Reading. ISBL. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1986. Polzin, Robert. Samuel and the Deuteronomist: A Literary Interpretation of the Deuteronomic History. Part Two: 1 Samuel. Bloomington: University of Indiana Press, 1989. Scheffler, Eben. “Royal Care for the Poor in Israel’s First History: The Royal Law (Deuteronomy 17:14– 20), Hannah’s Song (1 Samuel 2:1–10), Samuel’s Warning (1 Samuel 8:10–18), David’s Attitude (2 Samuel 24:10–24) and Ahab and Naboth (1 Kings 21) in Intertext.” Scriptura 116 (2017): 160–174. Steinmann, Andrew E. 1 Samuel. CC. St Louis: Concordia, 2017. Tsumura, David Toshio. The First Book of Samuel. NICOT. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007. Watts, James W. “‘This Song.’ Conspicuous Poetry in Hebrew Prose.” Pages 345–358 in Verse in Ancient Near Eastern Prose. Edited by Johannes C. de Moor and Wilfred G. E. Watson. AOAT 42. Kevelaer: Bercker & Butzon / Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1993. ________. Psalms and Story: Inset Hymns in Hebrew Narrative. JSOTSup 139. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1992.

Images by and Images of Philistia: Winner and Loser Perspectives in 1 Samuel 5–6 Regine Hunziker-Rodewald

Summary In contrast to the usual but futile focus on a diagnosis of the so-called Philistine Plague, this study raises the issue of identifying pattern relationships among the semantic-syntactic data in 1 Sam 5–6 in relation to the ‫“ צלמים‬images” offered by Philistia to the ark, especially those of the ‫עפלים‬ “swellings” (1 Sam 6:4–5). They belong to the setting of an ordeal performed to decide the ark’s guilt or innocence in what happened (1 Sam 6:9). Since these images have been made, as the story tells, by Philistines, it may be asked which items from the known Philistine cult assemblage might have been the imagined model for the idea of such objects recalling “swellings”. A second, related issue in this study involves the images of Philistia shaped by 1 Sam 5–6 that deliberately contrast with the concept of belief promoted by the non-Philistine text producer. Yet the parallel display of the foreign winner’s perspective and the native loser’s perspective is unusual, probably even unique, in ancient Near Eastern texts. Im Unterschied zu der üblichen, aber zwecklosen Fokussierung auf eine medizinische Diagnose der sogenannten Philister-Plage wirft diese Studie die Frage auf nach Beziehungsmustern zwischen den semantisch-syntaktischen Angaben in 1 Sam 5-6 in Bezug auf die ‫„ צלמים‬Bilder“, speziell die von ‫עפלים‬ „Schwellungen“ (1 Sam 6,4–5), die die Philister der Lade angeboten haben. Sie gehören zum Setting eines Gottesurteils, das über die Schuld oder Unschuld der Lade an den geschehenen Ereignissen entscheiden sollte (1 Sam 6,9). Da diese Bilder der Erzählung nach von Philistern angefertigt wurden, kann man sich überlegen, welche Objekte des bekannten philistäischen Kultinventars das imaginäre Vorbild dieser an „Schwellungen“ erinnernden Bilder gewesen sein könnte. Eine zweite, damit zusammenhängende Frage dieser Studie betrifft die in 1 Sam 5–6 geprägten Bilder von den Philistern, die bewusst zum Glaubenskonzept des nicht-philistäischen Textproduzenten in Kontrast gesetzt sind. Die parallele Darstellung aber der Fremdperspektive als Sieger-Perspektive und der Eigenperspektive als Verlierer-Perspektive ist für einen altorientalischen Text ganz ungewöhnlich, wenn nicht einzigartig.

At the center of this study is an analytical reading of the communicative data network established in 1 Sam 5:6–12 (§1) and 6:1–14, 16, 18b 1 (§2). In these texts, the data are presented on two levels of communication, i.e. on the level of the non-Philistine narrator (3rd sg.) and on the level of several imagined Philistine

1

Hereafter 1 Sam 6:1–*18. The selection of texts examined for this study is based on its primary interest in the differences in dealing with divine power within the narratively framed speech parts in 1 Sam 5–6. 1 Sam 6:16, 18b are considered to belong to the coherent narrative unit 1 Sam 6:1–14, see Dietrich, Samuel, 287–289.

40

Regine Hunziker-Rodewald

speakers (the inhabitants of Ashdod and Eqron, their kings, 2 the general populace, the ritual specialists). Within this twofold text-internal communication structure we particularly aim to trace the question of how the presented Philistine approach to divine power is portrayed and communicated in 1 Sam 5–6. Of specific interest is the way the Philistines are supposed to deal with physical manifestations of the divine. Their approach reveals, in a contrasting perspective, the convictions of the non-Philistine text producer. 3 Our reflections are based on the Masoretic text as it is reproduced in the Codex Leningradensis. 4 No new theory about an improved text composed by the “best” readings from different scribal and editorial traditions will be provided. 5 As Adrian Schenker demonstrated by the plague of mice story, there is a certain probability that the more clearly intelligible and theologically more consistent Masoretic text of 1 Sam 5–6 is based on a literary processing and correction of the Septuagint’s Hebrew Vorlage. 6 We occasionally touch on such questions, but they are not the focus in this article. 7 In focus are the golden “swellings” (§3) and the identification of possible models in the world of Philistine iconography. A closer look at Philistine ceramic pomegranate vessels in comparison with non-Philistine pomegranate-shaped artifacts, referred to in texts or worked in high-value material, refers to a different typology and to distinct ways of using images in the field of Southern Levantine cult during the Iron Age. The presentation of how Philistines deal with divine power recorded in 1 Sam 5–6 by the non-Philistine text producer sets the stage for making sense and coherence out of the given ideas (§4). One understands that the designed

2

3

4 5 6

7

On the term srny(m) as a transcription of the Assyrian pl. šarrānu see Lipiński, Peuples, 16–18; less convincing is the theory of a Lydian loan (Finkelstein, “Philistines,” 136-137; Helck, “Indiz,” 31; Pintore, “Seren,” 285–322; cf. Dietrich, Samuel, 277–278. This anticipated conclusion implies that the text-internal narrator in 1 Sam 5–6 takes, corresponding to the text producer/editor(s), a non-Philistine – i.e. Israelite/Judahite – standpoint. Since the literary additions in 1 Sam 6 are not analyzed in this article, we refer to the text producer in singular. The circumstances of the text production and editions of 1 Sam 5–6 can in this article only very briefly be addressed. Accessible in the Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia, editio quinta emendata opera A. Schenker, abbreviated with MT in the following. Cf. the meticulous reconstructions of 1 Sam 5:1–7:1 in Dietrich, Samuel, 250–258; Dietrich/Naumann, Samuelbücher, 121–143; McCarter, I Samuel, 118–121, 128–132. Schenker, “Textverderbnis,” 254–260; but see Barthélemy, Critique, 154, who reckons with a literarily older stage for MT. Others argue rather in favor of parallel traditions, see e.g. Campbell, 1 Samuel, 71, 77–78; Stolz, Buch Samuel, 49, 51; Stoebe, Samuelis, 147, 151; Ackroyd, Samuel, 55–56. Bodner, “Mouse Trap,” argues for attention to the specific set of rhetorical priorities in the LXX and MT traditions respectively. The question of the coherence of 1 Sam 4–6; 2 Sam 6 (Schäfer-Lichtenberger, “Beobachtungen zur Ladegeschichte,” 326–329) and the traditional historical connection with the Exodus story (Dietrich/Naumann, Samuelbücher, 121–143) cannot be addressed here.

Images by and Images of Philistia

41

Philistine and non-Philistine views are part of an intended double readability of the presented events in which readers actively participate. 8

1.

The Ark in Philistia: Act I (1 Sam 5:6–12)

Intrigued by the striking difference between Ketiv and Masoretic Qere, which recommends reading the ‫“ עפלים‬swellings” in 1 Sam 5:6, 9, 12 as ‫“ טהרים‬hemorrhoids”, 9 the exegetical discussion concerning the understanding of the story of the ark’s stay in Philistia mostly concentrates on the epidemic plague alluded to in 1 Sam 5:6–12. 10 Nevertheless, after consultation of the available text witnesses, among others, the Septuagint 11 and the readings attested in the Targum 12 and by Flavius Josephus, 13 the disease or pestilence cannot convincingly be identified. 14 Particularly unclear remains the connection between the “swellings” and the mice, 15 the physical location of the “swellings,” 16 and also the facts that an outbreak of hemorrhoids is not epidemic 17 and that dysentery does not cause boils. One must conclude that a kind of a stalemate has been emerging amongst researchers, which will hardly be overcome due to a lack of details in the preserved texts and to inconsistencies between the different source types. 18 So, the possibility that the account in 1 Sam 5:6–12 represents something other than a portrayal of a real existing epidemic should be given serious consideration. 19 108F

109F

8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

16 17 18 19

Our sincere thanks for helpful remarks and suggestions on earlier drafts of this article go to Andrei Aioanei, Sara Kipfer, Jeremy Hutton and Alegre Savariego. ‫ טהרים‬is the Ketiv in 6:11bβ, 17. Dietrich, Samuel, 268–269, considers these verse parts/verses to be secondary. Wilkinson, “The Philistine Epidemic”. Recently, Trevisanato, “The Biblical Plague,” identifies the disease as tularemia transmitted by mice nesting in the ark – a weird idea! ἕδρα “buttocks”: Grillet/Lestienne, Bible, 96–103. 4QSama features ‫ עפלים‬throughout (also in 1 Sam 6:17), see Ulrich, Qumran, 265–267. ‫“ טהורין‬hemorrhoids”: Van Staalduine-Sulmann, Targum, 242–243, referring to Ps 78:66: “He hit his adversaries on the back (‫”)אחור‬. δυσεντερία “dysentery”: Ant. Jud. VI,1.3. Driver, “The Plague of the Philistines,” 52; Bar-Efrat, Samuel, 116, 119–120, wonders why the plague is not mentioned by name, as elsewhere in the Old Testament. McCarter, I Samuel, 123: “the present text is not suggesting any causal relationship”. The role of mice in disease transmission has been reinforced with reference to Apollo Smintheus by Schroer, Samuelbücher, 52; Brentjes, “Zur ʻBeulenʼ-Epidemie,” 73–74. Dietrich, Samuel, 282–283, pleads for an original text version which was about tumors in the shape of mice. See e.g. Bar-Efrat, Samuel, 120, referring to Kimchi: “in a hidden place, inside”. The first reliably attested occurrence of the bubonic plague in the Eastern Mediterranean area dates from the 6th century A.D. (Grillet/Lestienne, Bible, 102). Conrad, “The Biblical Tradition for the Plague,” 286; Madreiter, Rituale, 86, claims for the abandonment of any speculation on the disease. Emanuel, “ʻDagon our God’,” 55–56; cf. Conrad, “The Biblical Tradition for the Plague,” 287.

42

Regine Hunziker-Rodewald

Our approach to 1 Sam 5:6–12 is based on the question: How does the nonPhilistine author intend his audience to think about Philistia and its dealing with manifestations of divine power? In order to become aware of the performative strategy in these verses – which directs the reader’s comprehension process – three interconnected structural-syntactic features must be observed: – the narrative parts and the imbedded direct speeches – the designations of the ark and the corresponding pronominal and verbal references – the names of the deity involved and the corresponding pronominal and verbal references.

1.1

The Embedded Direct Speeches

When isolating for investigative reasons the direct speeches in 1 Sam 5:6–12 – all are attributed to Philistines – the following characteristics appear: ‫ֱ�הינוּ׃‬ ֽ ֵ ‫ֱ�ה֤י ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ֙ל ﬠִ ֔ ָמּנוּ ִ ֽכּי־קָ ְשׁ ָ ֤תה יָדוֹ֙ ָﬠ ֵ֔לינוּ וְ ﬠַ ֖ל דָּ ג֥ וֹן א‬ ֵ ‫ֽל ֹא־ ֵישֵׁ֞ ב אֲר֙ וֹן א‬ … ‫ֱ�ה֣י ִי ְשׂ ָר ֔ ֵאל‬ ֵ ‫ַ ֽמה־ ַנּﬠֲשֶׂ֗ ה ַ ֽלאֲרוֹן֙ א‬ … ‫ֱ�ה֣י ִי ְשׂ ָר ֵ ֑אל‬ ֵ ‫גַּ ֣ת ִיסֹּ֔ ב א ֲ֖רוֹן א‬ … ‫יתנִי וְ אֶ ת־ﬠ ִ ַֽמּי׃‬ ֖ ֵ ‫ֱ�ה֣י ִי ְשׂ ָר ֔ ֵאל ַלה ֲִמ‬ ֵ ‫הֵ ַס֤בּוּ אֵ לַי֙ אֶ ת־אֲרוֹן֙ א‬ … ‫ֱ�ה֤י ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ֙ל וְ ָישֹׁ֣ ב לִ ְמקֹ ֔מוֹ וְ ֽל ֹא־ ָי ִ ֥מית אֹ ִ ֖תי וְ אֶ ת־ﬠ ִ ַ֑מּי‬ ֵ ‫שַׁ לְּ ֞חוּ אֶ ת־אֲר֙ וֹן א‬

7 81 82 10 11

Tab. 1 The ark in direct speech in 1 Sam 5:6–12.

The language ascribed to different Philistine speakers regarding the designation of the ark appears completely consistent: in Ashdod (1 Sam 5:7, 81) as well as in Eqron (v. 10, 11) and by all the city kings (v. 82) the ark 20 is called “the ark of the god 21 of Israel”. The verb forms and personal suffixes refer to the ark as selfacting: it is wielding hard power and therefore must not stay (1 Sam 5:7), but shall move on (v. 82, cf. v. 10) and return to its place so that it shall not kill (v. 11). 22 From the portrayed Philistine point of view, the ark alone is responsible 20 21

22

The designations of the ark and the corresponding pronominal and verbal references are in Tab. 1 marked grey. If ‫( אלהי‬st. cs.) “god, gods” is taken as a plural, cf. 1 Sam 4:8 (‫“ האלהים האדירים האלה‬these mighty gods”), or as a singular, cf. 1 Sam 4:7 (‫“ בא אלהים‬a god arrived”), cannot be decided. The singular here is chosen in accordance with the singular in 1 Sam 6:5b (‫“ אולי יקל את־ידו‬perhaps he will lighten his hand”). All the 3. sg. verbal forms and pronominal suffixes in the Philistine direct speeches in 1 Sam 5:7– 11 refer to the ark, so also ‫“ ידו‬its power” (v. 7b, verb and syntagmatic construction different from v. 6a, 11b!). In 1 Sam 5:6–12 the non-Philistine narrator knows about Yhwh initiating the

Images by and Images of Philistia

43

for what happens. The emphasis on its ‫“ מקום‬place” (1 Sam 5:11; cf. 6:2b) or ‫גבול‬ “territory” (1 Sam 6:9a) lets one guess that Israel is, first and foremost, a political concept here. 23 The ark is presented by the Philistine speakers as the ark of the god from “over there”. In the direct speeches attributed to Philistines, 24 the ark has the quality of the physical manifestation of a foreign deity, it is the visible focal point of its presence. 25 Its representation in physical form embodies the deity’s power that gives it the quality of a divine image or an idol. 26 As such it will be compensated by a propitiatory reparation (1 Sam 6:1–*18). When the men of Ashdod launched a motion in the convened assembly of the city kings they worded it as follows: “What shall we do for the ark” (1 Sam 5:81). The same words later addressed to the ritual specialists reveal that the question “What shall we do for” (‫ )מה־נעשׂה ל‬completed by “With what shall we send it” (‫במה נשׁלחנו‬, 1 Sam 6:2aβ, b) 27 aims at the idea of a compensation for the ark to be provided when it will be returned. But the request of the Eqronites, which were scared to death by the ark (1 Sam 5:10b, 11a), was not heard. For the Philistine kings the ark was a symbol of supremacy, so they only proposed to remove it from the temple by forwarding it to Gath. 28 In a second step, in 1 Sam 6:2, the request will be addressed to the religious experts in whose long response the narrative time is extremely stretched (1 Sam 6:3–9) and the focalization in the account reaches its peak. The scenic realization offers a maximum of detailing. It creates, in the narrative present, the closest possible proximity to the audience and stimulates the mimetic comprehension of the reflections offered. In these verses, the central message of 1 Sam (5–)6 is to be expected. 29 13 F

17F

18F

23 24

25 26

27 28 29

events to happen (v. 6a, 9a, 11b, 12), while the presented Philistines speak of the object they see: the ark (cf. Tab. 1). The Philistine designation of Israel as people is ‫“ עברים‬Hebrews” (1 Sam 4:6a, 9a); but see the non-Philistine messenger (1 Sam 4:17a) referring to the people as “Israel”. In 1 Sam 5–6 ‫“ פלשׁתים‬Philistia, Philistines” (in Hebrew mostly indeterminate) is a collectivity of undifferentiated groups (cities’ inhabitants, kings’ assembly, general populace, ritual specialists), cf. Jobling, 1 Samuel, 221. Cf. van der Toorn, “The Iconic Book,” 242; Na’aman, “No Anthropomorphic Graven Image,” 410. Cf. Korada, Rationale, 68; Middlemas, Image, 80–81; Miller/Roberts, Hand, 12–17; Delcor, “Jahweh et Dagon,” 143. On symbolic imagery associated with the ark see George, “Ark,” 749–752; in the story 1 Sam 5–6, only the ark’s portability counts, other details (size, weight, shape, material, color) are out of focus, cf. the exclusive focus on Dagon’s head/face and hands in 1 Sam 5:3–4. For ‫“ עשׂה ל‬to do for” in 1 Sam 5:8; 6:2 cf. 10:2; 14:6; 20:4; 22:3; 24:20; 25:30; 28:17; see Jenni, Lamed, 118–119; for ‫“ שׁלח ב‬to send with” in 1 Sam 6:2 cf. 6 :3 and Mic 6:6; Lev 16:3; see Jenni, Beth, 96. See Tab. 1, 1 Sam 5:82. Cf. Hardmeier, Textwelten, 71–75.

44

1.2

Regine Hunziker-Rodewald

The Narrative Parts

The non-Philistine narrator clearly distinguishes between the acting deity and the ark being sent around from Ashdod to Gath and to Eqron. Panic, terror, and death were triggered by the divine hand and Yhwh/God himself, respectively (1 Sam 5:6, 9, 11). 30 The “swellings” as well were caused directly by Yhwh, they appeared as the result of his attack or are the subject of a passive verbal construction. This last one does not mention God as the initiator but must be read in the context of v. 6 where Yhwh struck the Ashdodites with “swellings”. 31 The “swellings” are not lethal, they are an alternative to death: 32 affected by “swellings” were those in Eqron who survived Yhwh’s attack (v. 11b); it is their cry which rose to heaven (v. 12b). … ‫דּוֹדים ַו ְי ִשׁ ֵ ֑מּם ַו יַּ ֤  � אֹ תָ ם֙ בָּ ֳﬠפָלִ ים‬ ֖ ִ ‫ַו ִתּ כְ ַבּ֧ד יַד־יְהוָ ֛ה אֶ ל־הָ אַ ְשׁ‬ … ֙‫ֱ�ה֥י ִי ְשׂ ָר ֵ ֽאל׃ ס ַוי ְִ֞הי אַ ח ֵ ֲ֣רי׀ הֵ ַס֣בּוּ אֹ ֗תוֹ ַו ְתּ ִ ֙הי יַד־ ְיהוָ ֤ה ׀ בָּ ﬠִ יר‬ ֵ ‫ַויּ ֕ ֵַסּבּוּ אֶ ת־א ֲ֖רוֹן א‬ ‫ְמהוּמָ ה֙ גְּ דוֹלָ ֣ה ְמ ֔ ֹאד ַו ַיּ �֙ אֶ ת־אַ ְנ ֵ ֣שׁי הָ ֔ ִﬠיר ִמקָּ טֹ֖ ן וְ ﬠַד־גּ ָ֑דוֹל ַו ִיּשָּׂ ְת ֥רוּ ל ֶָה֖ם ֳﬠפָלִ ים׃ ַוֽ  ְישַׁ לְּ ֛חוּ‬ … ‫ֱ�הים ﬠֶקְ ֑רוֹן ַוי ְִ֗הי כְּ ב֙ וֹא ֲא ֤רוֹן הָ אֱ�הִ ים֙ ﬠֶקְ ֔רוֹן‬ ֖ ִ ‫אֶ ת־א ֲ֥רוֹן הָ א‬ … ‫ֱ�הים ָ ֽשׁם׃ וְ ָ ֽה ֲאנ ִָשׁים֙ ֲא ֶ ֣שׁר ל ֹא־‬ ֖ ִ ‫ת־מוֶת֙ בְּ כָל־הָ ֔ ִﬠיר כָּבְ ָ ֥ד ה ְמאֹ֛ ד יַ ֥ד הָ א‬ ָ֙ ַ‫ִ ֽכּי־הָ ְי ָ ֤תה ְמ ֽהוּמ‬ ‫֔ ֵמתוּ הֻכּ֖ וּ בָּ ֳﬠפָלִ ים ו ַ ַ֛תּﬠַל ַ ֽשׁוְ ﬠַ ֥ת הָ ִ ֖ﬠיר הַ שָּׁ ָ ֽמיִם׃‬

6 8b.9 10 11b.12

Tab. 2 The deity and the ark in the narrative parts in 1 Sam 5:6–12.

The non-Philistine narrator uses different divine proper names; accordingly, the designation of the ark’s divine affiliation also shows variations of the divine name (1 Sam 5:9–10). These characteristics contrast sharply with the designations of the ark that are attributed to the Philistine speakers (Tab. 1). In their view, the ark has first and foremost religious-political connotations. 33 According to the non-Philistine narrator the actions of “Yhwh’s hand” and of Yhwh himself are organized in sequence: as the verbal prefixes in 1 Sam 5:6 show, Yhwh’s hand became heavy (3rd f. sg.) at first, then Yhwh brought (3rd m. sg.) panic and “swellings”, and, in v. 9, Yhwh’s hand caused confusion (3rd f. sg.), then Yhwh (3rd m. sg.) struck the men from Gath and “swellings” broke out. In v. 11b, deadly panic expresses the pressure of God’s hand. 34 30 31 32 33 34

The divine activity is highlighted in Tab. 2 by squares around terms and verbal forms. The designations of the ark and its reference are shaded grey. Yhwh is the actor in 1 Sam 5:6b (hif. ‫“ נכה‬he struck”), in v. 9b (hif. ‫“ נכה‬he struck” and nif. ‫שׂתר‬ “they broke out”) and in v. 12a (hof. ‫“ נכה‬they were struck”). The “deadly panic” in Eqron (‫מהומת־מות‬, 1 Sam 5:11b), initiated by Yhwh, is lethal (v. 12aα, cf. Deut 7:23 and Is 22:5; Ezek 7:7; Zech 14:13) but not the ‫“ עפלים‬swellings”. See Tab. 1. For the sequence of elements of the described disaster see Stolz, Samuel, 46. The parties appearing in 1 Sam 5–6 are all male, which might be explained by the fact that the narrative is entirely based on the war story in 1 Sam 4. The only woman that appears briefly in 1 Sam 4–6 is name-

Images by and Images of Philistia

45

In contrast, the portrayed Philistine experience of the situation is less diversified, the Ashdodites just feel the hard pressure of the ark’s grip and the Eqronites are scared to death of the ark’s presence. 35 The most significant detail in 1 Sam 5:6–12, on the level of the non-Philistine narrator, is the differentiation between the acting deity and the ark. The divine hand appears where the ark is, it follows the ark, so-to-say, to Ashdod, to Gath, to Eqron. The ark is the visible presence-marker of the deity, but it is not selfacting. There is a connection of affiliation – shown in the various theonyms identifying the ark –, but the ark itself, forwarded from one city to the next, as a mere object, is clearly distinguished from the acting deity. 36 We resume act I in 1 Sam 5–6 by asking: what does the author of 1 Sam 5:6– 12 want us to think that the Philistines think about the ark? Firstly, the ark is a self-acting physical representation of divine power, it had the men of Ashdod and their god firmly in its grip (‫קשׁה יד‬, 1 Sam 5:7) and was supposed to kill the king of Eqron and his people (1 Sam 5:10, 11); 37 and secondly, the request “What shall we do for the ark?” (1 Sam 5:8a, cf. 6:2) reflects the awareness that the ark has been forced out of its territory 38 and therefore needs to be compensated (1 Sam 6:3). The presented Philistine perception of the ark as a physical object embodying divine power corresponds to an idolatrous approach. The mental connection between materiality and power is essential also for the concept of the expiatory ritual in 1 Sam 6. 127F

128F

2.

The Ark in Philistia: Act II (1 Sam 6:1–*18)

Like in act I, our analysis of the communicative data network in act II is focused on the question: How does the non-Philistine author intend his audience to think about Philistia and its dealing with manifestations of divine power?

35 36

37

38

less and dies immediately after having given a programmatic name (“No-Glory”, but cf. the reversal in 1 Sam 6:5aγ!) to her newborn son (1 Sam 4:21–22). See Tab. 1. In 5:10b, the Eqronites accuse Gath of handing them over to the killing power of the ark, see v. 11a. Cf. George, “Ark,” 748. Korada, Rationale, 68–69, points out that in 1 Sam 4–6 “the deuteronomist” highlights a popular wrong notion about the ark as Yhwh’s idol in order to propose his corrective notion of Yhwh as being distant from the ark (1 Sam 7:3–4). To describe 1 Sam 4–6 as deuteronomistic is untenable, see Dietrich, Samuel, 215–220, 266–268. The assembly of the kings (1 Sam 5:8, 11), the suffix forms of the 1st sg. in v. 10–11 (“me and my people,” indicator of a monarchical structure), the differentiation between the cities Ashdod, Gath, Eqron and the term “city” (vv. 9, 11–12) show 1 Sam 5:6–12 situated primarily in the thematic field of politics. Cf. McKane, I & II Samuel, 54.

46

2.1

Regine Hunziker-Rodewald

The Embedded Direct Speeches

In 1 Sam 6:1–*18 a shift from the field of religious-politics to the ritual sphere takes place. The direct speeches attributed to the populace of Philistia and, predominantly, to the ritual specialists appear as follows: 39 ‫קוֹמוֹ׃‬ ֽ ‫הוֹד ֻ֕ﬠנוּ בַּ ֶ ֖מּה ְנשַׁ לְּ ֶ ֥חנּוּ לִ ְמ‬ ִ ‫ֲשׂה ַלא ֲ֣רוֹן יְהוָ ֑ה‬ ֖ ֶ ‫ַ ֽמה־ ַנּﬠ‬ … ‫ל־תּשַׁ לְּ ֤חוּ אֹ תוֹ֙ ֵריקָ֔ ם ִ ֽכּי־הָ ֵ ֥שׁב תָּ ִ ֛שׁיבוּ ל֖ וֹ‬ ְ ַ‫ֱ�ה֤י ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ֙ל א‬ ֵ ‫ם־משַׁ לְּ ִ֞חים אֶ ת־אֲר֙ וֹן א‬ ְ ‫ִ ֽא‬ ‫נוֹדע ָל ֶ֔כם לָ ֛מָּ ה ל ֹא־תָ ֥סוּר י ָ֖דוֹ ִמ ֶ ֽכּם׃‬ ֣ ַ ְ‫אָ ָ ֑שׁם ָ ֤אז תֵּ ָ ֽרפְ אוּ֙ ו‬ … ‫ָ ֣מה הָ אָ שָׁ ֘ם ֲא ֶ ֣שׁר נ ִ ָ֣שׁיב ל ֒וֹ‬ … … ‫א�ה֥י ִי ְשׂ ָר ֵ ֖אל כּ ָ֑בוֹד אוּ ַ֗לי ָי ֵ ֤קל אֶ ת־יָד וֹ֙ ֵ ֽמ ֲﬠלֵי ֶ֔כם‬ ֵ ‫וּ ְנתַ ֶ ֛תּם ֵל‬ ֙‫ל־ה ֲﬠ ָג ָ֔לה וְ ֵ ֣את׀ כְּ לֵ ֣י הַ זּ ֗ ָָהב ֲא ֶ֙שׁר הֲשֵׁ בֹ ֶ ֥תם לוֹ‬ ֣ ָ ֶ‫וּלְ קַ חְ ֞ ֶתּם אֶ ת־א ֲ֣רוֹן ְיה ֗ ָוה וּ ְנתַ ֶ ֤תּם אֹ תוֹ֙ א‬ ‫ם־דּ ֶר� גְּ בוּל֤ וֹ ַ ֽי ֲﬠלֶה֙ ֵבּ֣ית‬ ֶ֙ ‫יתם ִא‬ ֶ ֗ ‫׃ ְוּר ִא‬ø�‫אָ שָׁ֔ ם תָּ ִ ֥שׂימוּ בָ אַ ְרגַּ ֖ז ִמצִּ ֑דּוֹ וְ ִשׁלַּחְ ֶ ֥תּם אֹ ֖תוֹ וְ הָ ָ ֽל‬ ‫ ָ֔לנוּ אֶ ת־הָ ָרﬠָ ֥ה הַ גְּ דוֹלָ ֖ה הַ ֑זּ ֹאת וְ ִאם־ ֗ל ֹא וְ י ַָ֙דﬠְ נוּ֙ ִ ֣כּי ֤ל ֹא יָדוֹ֙ נָ ֣ גְ ﬠָה ֔ ָבּנוּ‬ø‫שֶׁ֔ מֶ שׁ ֚הוּא ﬠָ ֣שָׂ ה‬ … ‫ִמקְ ֶ ֥רה ֖הוּא ָ ֥היָה ָ ֽלנוּ׃‬

2 3 4 5 8 9

Tab. 3 The deity and the ark in direct speech in 1 Sam 6:1–*18.

The Philistines portrayed in this passage seek advice from ritual specialists 40 for the correct return (‫“ במה‬with what”) of the ark. While the supplicants use the proper name Yhwh for the ark’s divine affiliation (1 Sam 6:2) – paying honor to him, cf. 1 Sam 6:5 –, 41 the addressed ritual specialists accentuate in their designation of the ark the place of its return (1 Sam 6:2b), Israel (1 Sam 6:3). The personal suffixes in 1 Sam 6:2–4 indicate a uniform reference to the ark 42 to which the vanquished Philistines must pay appropriate reparations (‫ )אשׁם‬43 as a sign of their recognition of the ark’s victory. The syntax in 1 Sam 6:3 anticipates an experiment or test that the ritual specialists propose to conduct: if the ark will be recompensed, the Philistines would be healed, which could be understood as a proof that the ark is the initiator of the distress. 44 This empirical pro13 F

13F

134F

39 40

41

42 43 44

On the marks added to the Hebrew text see n. 30. The relatively rare root ‫( קסם‬33x HB) refers to divination, practiced especially by non-Israelites/Judahites (Balaam Num 22:7; 23:23; the woman of Endor 1 Sam 28:8; see the polemics in Deut 18:9–14 and Ezek 21:26–28). For the use of the Israelite god’s proper name Yhwh in 1 Sam 6:2aγ, 8aα cf. the Neo-Assyrian strategy of naming foreign gods in 13% of the “godnapping” records (caused by anxiety about violence towards the divine) but in 82% of the accounts on returning gods (Zaia, “Sacrilege,” 28–36, 49). See Tab. 3. There is no indication of a change of reference for ‫“( ידו‬its power grip” 1 Sam 6:3bβ), cf. also n. 22. Cf. Jobling, 1 Samuel, 220, who translates ‫ אשׁם‬as “tribute”. “If (‫ … )אם‬don’t (‫ … )אל־‬but (‫ … )כי‬then (‫ )אז‬you would be healed and it would be known to you why its [sc. the ark’s] grip cannot leave you”: because the ark has not yet been recompensed, the affliction continues (1 Sam 6:3bβ).

Images by and Images of Philistia

47

cedure is one of a total of three that the ritual specialists suggest to the supplicants. The second one (1 Sam 6:5) aims to pay honor, by the images of swellings and mice, to Israel’s God who then might (‫ )אולי‬be ready to ease his hand from the Philistines. 45 The third one (1 Sam 6:9), based on animal behavior taken as an omen, 46 seeks to prove if it is the ark’s power 47 at work or if it is only by coincidence (‫ )מקרה‬that Philistia has been shaken by disaster.

2.2

The Narrative Parts

The explicit opposition between contingency and meaningfulness – i.e. between an accidental or ordinary event 48 and supernatural power 49 – in 1 Sam 6:9 is a central issue of fantastic narratives. 50 The Philistine worldview is sharpened here in a way that is, in this explicit confrontation, unusual in the Hebrew Bible. The thought represents a systematic reflection, which theoretically gives only relative value to the belief in necessity granted by divine power. 51 The suggestion in 1 Sam 6:9 to explore by experiment the alternative between nature and the supernatural testifies to a certain rational process at work. But first of all it serves literarily to increase suspense and to establish a sharp contrast between coincidence and non-coincidence which, in this point, will prove the mooing cows ‘right’ and the Philistine thinking to be illusionary (1 Sam 6:12). 52 In 1 Sam 6:10–*18 the non-Philistine narrator uses the same divine proper name for the deity who receives offerings as well as for the affiliation of the ark: Yhwh. When the ark arrived at its destination it was recognized simply as “The Ark” (v. 13): 53 45 46 47

48 49 50 51

52 53

Reason for them to let the ark go, like Egypt and Pharaoh did with the Israelites (1 Sam 6:6). Cf. Dietrich, Schuld, 230; Stolz, Samuel, 50. See the list of ancient divination methods including those which involve animals in Naether, Sortes, 18–21. The term ‫ יד‬refers in 1 Sam 5–6 to an “anthropomorphic” concept of divine power (1 Sam 5:6, 9, 11; 6:5), but from the presented Philistine point of view, also the ark’s “hand” is supposed to exercise power (1 Sam 5:7; 6:3, 9), see the different verbs used: ‫כבד‬/ ‫קלל‬/ ‫( היה‬deity) and ‫קשׁה‬/ ‫סור‬/ ‫( נגע‬ark). Cf. Collins, “Miqreh,” 146; Frolov, Turn, 133. See n. 47. Feldt, Fantastic, 60, referring to Lachmann, Phantastik, 117, who accentuates the resulting hypertrophy of meaning of the fantastic work on coincidence (149–150). Dietrich, “Katastrophen,” 95, argues that blind chance lacking reason has no place in the Semitic pre-Hellenistic world view, because behind chance, it is always gods or demons who are at work; for Qohelet see Krüger, Kohelet, 143–144 with n. 50, referring to the goddess (!) Tyche (Gehrke, Geschichte, 72). Machinist, “Fate,” 174–175, points out that “miqreh is never hypostatized in Qohelet” and therefore may indicate an early “exposure to Greek tradition”; see van Wolde, “Chance,” 148: “In both, Job and Genesis 1, chance is presented […] as an ultimate denier of necessity”. 1 Sam 6:9–12 eliminates the “seditious idea” of miqreh (Penchansky, Twilight, 18). Concerning the marks added to the Hebrew text see n. 30.

48

Regine Hunziker-Rodewald ‫ַוי ִ ְ֧הי אֲרוֹן־יְהוָ ֛ה בִּ ְשׂ ֵ ֥דה פְ לִ ְשׁ ִ ֖תּים ִשׁבְ ﬠָ ֥ה חֳדָ ִ ֽשׁים׃‬ … … ֙‫ַויּ ִ ָ֛שׂמוּ אֶ ת־א ֲ֥רוֹן יְהוָ ֖ה אֶ ל־הָ ֲﬠגָלָ ֑ה וְ ֵ ֣את הָ אַ ְר ֗ ַגּז וְ אֵ ת‬ … ‫ֵיהם ַויּ ְִראוּ֙ אֶ ת־ ָה֣אָ ֔רוֹן ַוֽ  ִיּ ְשׂ ְמ ֖חוּ לִ ְר ֽאוֹת׃‬ ֶ ֗ ‫ַו ִיּ ְשׂ ֣אוּ אֶ ת־ﬠֵינ‬ … ‫ַיהוֽה ׃‬ ָ ‫ת־הפּ ָ֔רוֹת הֶ ﬠֱל֥ וּ עֹ לָ ֖ה ל‬ ַ֙ ֶ‫ַוֽ יְבַ קְּ עוּ֙ אֶ ת־ﬠ ֲֵצ֣י הָ ֲﬠ ָג ָ֔לה וְ א‬ …‫וְ ﬠַ ֣ד׀ אָ ֵב֣ל הַ גְּ דוֹ ָ֗לה ֲא ֶ֙שׁר הִ ִנּ֤יחוּ ָﬠ ֶ֨לי ָ֙ה ֚אֵ ת א ֲ֣רוֹן יְה ֔ ָוה ַ֚ﬠד הַ יּ֣ וֹם הַ ֶ֔זּה‬

1 11 13 14b 18b

Tab. 4 The deity and the ark in the narrative parts 1 Sam 6:1–*18.

In 1 Sam 6:10–12 the non-Philistine narrator recounts the enactment of the third experiment proposed by the Philistine religious experts in v. 7–9. It is no surprise that he specifies particularly the behavior of the milk cows (1 Sam 6:12a). 54 The city kings following the procession are present (v. 12b) in order to verify the outcome (cf. v. 9) but do not get the word to communicate what they see. The self-evident final highlight of the ark’s transfer is the sacrifice for Yhwh 55 which, from the perspective of the non-Philistine narrator, symbolically confirms the one and only protagonist of all of what happened. 56 We resume act II of the account 1 Sam 5–6 by asking again: what does the author want us to think the Philistines think about the ark? Firstly, the ark, affiliated with Yhwh, the God of Israel (1 Sam 6:2a, 3a, 8a), belongs to the territory of Israel; when separated from that territory, it develops a highly dangerous activity (v. 9a, cf. 3b). Secondly, its return must 57 follow a priestly protocol including a ritually controlled procedure for its compensation (1 Sam 6:3a, 4–5, 7–8); once released, the ark is supposed to make its way back home under its own guidance. 58 The Philistine assessment of the ark presented in act II confirms the observations obtained in act I: the ark is a self-acting object embodying divine power. As noted earlier, this concept corresponds to an idolatrous approach which conceptually connects materiality and divine power. To sum up acts I and II in 1 Sam 5–6 we note: the proposed visualized distinction between Philistine direct speeches and non-Philistine narrative parts serves to focus the reader’s attention to differing thoughts about the “if” and “how” of the 54

55

56

57 58

In the Mesopotamian iconography (depiction of an open mouth) and literature the roaring of lions or bulls denotes the angry voice/presence of the anger of a god, cf. the constant mooing of the cows in 1 Sam 6:12aβ; Thomas, “Les sons dans l’iconographie,” 228–231. The ritual sphere in 1 Sam 6:1–*18 is initiated by a period of seven months (on possible cult symbolic connotations cf. Ezek 39:12, 14) and reaches its peak with a sacrifice for Yhwh – for which the Philistine carrier animals serve as sacrificial material, cf. Dietrich, Schuld, 252. Cf. 1 Sam 6:1, 11a. At that moment the ark and the ‫( ארגז‬loan from a Greek dialect, ἕρκος, cf. Lipiński, Peuples, 14: “désigne tout ce qui sert à enfermer”) with the images get completely out of the picture and are only addressed again in the supplements to 1 Sam 6:1–14, 16, 18b (v. 15, 17, 18a, 19–21; 7:1). See the figura etymologica in 6:3a: ‫השׁב תשׁיבו‬. 6:8b: ‫“ והלך‬and it will go,” cf. 1 Sam 6:6bβ.

Images by and Images of Philistia

49

ark’s or Yhwh’s re-acting after the ark had been transferred to Philistia (1 Sam 5:1). 59 The performance of two designed views of the events that has been realized in 1 Sam 5–6 does not display ambiguity or vagueness 60 but instead intentionally brings clearly assigned assessments into juxtaposition with one another. The parallel existence of views gives the text its “spice”, which must not be neutralized by the generalized and equalizing statement about Yhwh’s superiority in the story. 61 The main outcome of our reading is the discovery, in the same text, of a twofold perception of the ark, which is in 1 Sam 5–6 the central figure. According to the portrayed Philistine view the ark is a self-acting object embodying divine power and functioning as any divine image in the ancient Near East 62 – we can call this approach iconic or idolatrous. According to the non-Philistine narrator’s view the ark is the visible presence-marker of Yhwh, but it is not acting by itself – this approach can be called aniconic. 63 There is no direct dialogue between Philistine speakers and the non-Philistine narrator. The falsification of the presented Philistine approach becomes conclusive and obvious in the narrated sequence of the sacrifice to Yhwh (1 Sam 6:14b) and the closing departure of the Philistine kings (1 Sam 6:16), which implicitly states the correctness of the aniconic approach represented by the non-Philistine narrator. To what extent this argument also affects the golden images in 1 Sam 6:1–*18 will be shown below. Through the lenses of literary fantasy, the traditional attribution of inferiority and superiority are put in suspense. In contrast to Neo-Assyrian “godnapping” reports, where the self-image is typically inflected with power and the image of conquered enemies with impotence, 64 this dichotomy appears entangled in 1 Sam 5–6, each connotation being merged with the other. The account of losing winners and winning losers contradicts intuitive expectations and reveals counterintuitiveness as part of a religious world view. 65 In 1 Sam 6:4b the MT has been corrected in some Hebrew manuscripts and in ancient translations from “because one plague is for all of them, that is, for all 59 60

61 62

63 64 65

The matter is if the suffixes indicating action refer to the ark or to the deity, see above acts I and II. Collins, “Miqreh,” 146 n. 2, mentions intentional ambiguity pointing to “God’s presence in the Ark”; for Stolz, Samuel, 47 n. 17, is the exact reference of the pronouns not important “da Jahwe sich in der Lade geradezu verkörpert”; Dietrich, Samuel, 259–60, identifies an odd vagueness (“seltsames Schillern”) between the activity of the ark and of the ark’s deity. Cf. Brueggemann, Samuel, 43. Cf. Schäfer-Lichtenberger, “Beobachtungen zur Ladegeschichte,” 326–327; Herring, Substitution, 67–73; Levtow, Images, 132–143. These researchers do not consider the nuanced view in the Ark Narrative, neither does Korada, Rationale, 68–69 n. 50. Only Middlemas, Image, 81, mentions briefly that we are dealing in the Philistine speech parts with projection. For the term (an)iconic see Berlejung, “Aniconism,” 1210–1215, and Dick, “Idols, Idolatry,” 806– 813; cf. Korada, Rationale, 72; see also n. 36. Zaia, Sacrilege. Feldt, Fantastic, 43–76, esp. 53–56.

50

Regine Hunziker-Rodewald

your kings” to “because one plague is for all of you and for all your kings”. This lectio facilior cancels the tight link between 1 Sam 6:4a and b which is exclusively based on the city kings, a fact that the waw explicativum in ‫ ולסרניכם‬accentuates. In the mouth of the Philistine diviners the emphasis on the city kings (“for all of them, that is, for all your kings”) text-internally alludes to the bad strategy and non-reactivity of the kings in 1 Sam 5:8, 11 and implies, on the literary level, a certain criticism of an intra-Philistine power balance.

3.

Images by Philistia

In the instructions of the presented Philistine religious experts concerning the recompense which must be paid to the ark 66 the reparation payments consist of golden ‫“ צלמים‬images” 67 to be supplied by Philistia. Only the number of these images is specified (1 Sam 6:4) but neither their size nor shape nor weight. 68 The plural suffixes, “images of your swellings and your mice” (1 Sam 6:5a), indicate the idea of replicas. But, unlike the mice, the reproduced ‫“ עפלים‬swellings” 69 cannot be classified. The term remains vague in 1 Sam 5–6 and, apart from this text, 70 “images of swellings” seem to have no extra-textual referent. The juxtaposition of golden “swellings” and mice in the ancient text traditions of 1 Sam 5–6 have been extensively discussed, but the decisions made remain contestable. 71 Very rarely concrete propositions have been made about what golden “swellings” might have looked like. 159F

160F

Walter Dietrich has suggested in 2007, that there was only one plague in the first version of the story, i.e. the “swellings” which had roughly the shape of mice. Correspondingly, also the golden replicas were mouse shaped. Only in the second version of the story appear two plagues, “swellings” and mice. 72 The author of that literary-critical proposal refers to

66

67 68 69

70 71 72

In direct speech (1 Sam 6:3–4, 8 ‫ שׁוב‬hi. ‫ ;)אשׁם‬the corresponding pronominal suffixes belong to a network of references to the ark (except for 1 Sam 6:5, see Tab. 3). The original references to the ark were later corrected in the literal addition 6:17 where the recompense was explicitly paid to Yhwh (‫ שׁוב‬hi. ‫ אשׁם‬and ‫!)ליהוה‬ The meanings of ‫“ צלם‬plastic reproduction” range from “engraving” to “statue”; the term can also designate a cult image (2 Kgs 11; Dan 3), cf. Korada, Rationale, 189–199. Nevertheless, Trevisanato, “The Biblical Plague,” 1145, calculates a total of 3–4 kg gold: given the specific gravity of gold of 19 kg/l, a gold mouse would be 400 g and a tumor 10–20g. Nominal root in Hebrew and Arabic ʿapl/ʿupl “thickening of tissue”, cf. Moabite ʿpl “swelling of the earth, height, hillock, acropolis,” Militarev/Kogan, Dictionary, 20–21; Hoftijzer/Jongeling, Dictionary, 879. In the curse Deut 28:27 the ‫ עפלים‬belong to a series of skin diseases. Cf. Schenker, “Textverderbnis,” 254–258; Grillet/Lestienne, Bible, 178–179; Pisano, Additions, 249–257; Geyer, Mice. Dietrich, Samuel, 282–283.

Images by and Images of Philistia

51

ancient amulets of mice, from Mesopotamia as well as from Egypt. 73 No such amulets are known from the ancient Levant so far. In 2007 as well, Aren Maeir published two “phallic-shaped” clay situlae that he had excavated in Tell es-Sâfi, Philistine Gath, dating from the late 9th/early 8th century B.C.E. They inspired his interpretation of the “swellings” as membra virile. According to Maeir that organ was afflicted in 1 Sam 5, that is why the Philistines fabricated ex-votos in the shape of golden penises. Phallic representations are common in Aegean/early Greek cultures but seem to be unknown in the North-West Semitic world. 74

From a literary-critical point of view, the mice are relatively poorly embedded in the Masoretic text version of 1 Sam 5–6. 75 We therefore concentrate in the following on the “swellings”. As the story goes, the “swellings” are images of disease symptoms (1 Sam 5:6b, 9b, 12a; 6:5a). They have been designed as a means of monetary reparation (‫זהב‬, ‫ אשׁם‬1 Sam 6:3–4) to eliminate in the context of a cult symbolic action 76 the dangerous power of the ark so that healing becomes possible (‫ תרפאו‬1 Sam 6:3b). These objects clearly belong to the cultic realm; their manufacture (‫ ועשׂיתם‬1 Sam 6:5a) is not described. Like the ark which has in 1 Sam 4–6 no defined shape, also the shape of the “swellings” is not specified. The Hebrew hapax legomenon ‫ שׂתר‬nif. “burst open,” used to describe the moment of appearance of such “swellings” (1 Sam 5:9b), may give a hint to their imagined shape. The root ‫ שׂתר‬can be related to the Arabic šatara “crack, split” which implies the breaking out from a surface. 77 The physical result of such an outburst is characterized 1. by still being attached to the support from which it rises (‫)עפל‬ 2. and, due to this attachment, by a certain odd shape. For the story to work in the eyes of the original audience of 1 Sam 6 deliberate allusions to known cult-related items in the Philistine corpus recalling (and therefore being called) “swellings” cannot be excluded – or might even be expected. A well attested object type that could fit the designation “swellings” is the ring kernos (Fig. 1). 78 It is a tubular hollow base with a diameter of, on average, 15 to 20 cm on which several hollow protomes are mounted at regular or irregular intervals around the rim: cups, birds, pomegranates and zoomorphic spouts. 79 All the protuberant elements, some of them with an opening on the top, are communicating with the hollow base. 167F

73 74 75 76

77 78 79

Cf. Brentjes, “Zur ʻBeulenʼ-Epidemie,” 68, 72–74, cf. Dawson, “Mouse,” 236. Maeir, “A New Interpretation of the Term ʿopalim,” 23–32; Maeir, “Captured Ark,” 1–8; cf. BenShlomo, Iconography, 59: “somewhat problematic” ... “simply bottles”. Schenker, “Textverderbnis,” 257–258. Instead of magic actions, Schmitt, “Magie,” 184–185, prefers to use, in the field of Old Testament studies, the term “cult symbolic actions”; on 1 Sam 6 as elimination ritual see Dietrich, Schuld, 229–230, 252 n. 416, 417. Cf. Klein, 1 Samuel, 51 (“to have a cracked eyelid or lip”); Gesenius, Handwörterbuch 18. Auflage, 1303. On the term kernos and its origins see Bignasca, Kernoi, 1–6. Most often these are heads of bulls, rarely of goats, gazelles, and rams; some heads are nonidentified, see Bignasca, Kernoi, Tav. 6–14 (Iron Age I and II).

54

Regine Hunziker-Rodewald

“swellings”? Is that term a disparaging nickname for the kernos as a whole or for some of its protomes? On many of these kernoi from Iron Age I and II sites in the Philistine core area and its periphery 84 are ceramic pomegranates added whose distinctive marks are four or five symmetrical or asymmetrical indentations (Fig. 2). These “dimples” are characteristic for ceramic pomegranate-shaped vessels from IA I and II Philistia (kernoi and bowl vessels, individual vessels). 85 Are they signs of post-harvest dehydration, indicating that in the Southern coastal strip with its predominant sandy soils, pomegranates were not produced locally but were mainly imported by sea trade 86 and therefore suffered shrinkage after weeks/months of storage and transport by ship? 87 The specific Philistine-style shape of pomegranates, as kernoi protomes, on bowls/calices or as individual vessels, differs in most cases considerably from the evenly shaped decorative reproductions of pomegranates made in ivory/bone, glass, faïence, and precious metal in the Eastern Mediterranean and Ancient Near East from the Late Bronze and Iron Ages. 88 The size and manufacture of these artifacts, designed as vessels, scepter headings or pendants, in the shape of buds or freshly harvested fruits, 89 are diverse, but only the Philistine-style pomegranates with their characteristic irregular indentations, could fit the idea of odd “swellings” “needed” for the story in 1 Sam 6. This interpretation applies insofar as in the Hebrew Bible pomegranates are a model for beauty, especially for the well-rounded and taut cheeks of a young woman. 90

According to the Philistine ritual specialists, such as they are presented in 1 Sam 6, the ‫“ צלמים‬images” are intended to be offered. If these images have any direct influence on the outcome of the empirical procedure 1 Sam 6:4–9 is not specified. Apart from their designation “swellings” as symptoms of a certain heavy disease which is without doubt negatively connoted in the story, there is no polemical undercurrent against images in this text. 91 18F

84

85 86

87 88

89

90

91

On the Philistine settlement structure and its cultural implications see Faust, “‘The Inhabitants of Philistia,’” 120–122, 125–126 (Iron Age I); Niemann, “Neighbors and Foes, Rivals and Kin,” 249– 257, 264 (Iron Age II). Cf. Ben-Shlomo, Iconography, 155–158; Dothan and Ben-Shlomo, “Ceramic Pomegranates,” 7–10; Elkowicz, Tempel, Tf. 50, 74; Borowski, “Pomegranate Bowl,” 151. Cf. Haldane, “Direct Evidence for Organic Cargoes,” 355; Ward, “Pomegranates in Eastern Mediterranean Contexts,” 530, 537; see also Waldbaum, “Early Greek Contacts,” 60–61; Maeir, Fantalkin, and Zukerman, “The Earliest Greek Import,” 74. Cf. Erkan and Kader, “Pomegranate,” 298. Ward, “Pomegranates in Eastern Mediterranean Contexts,” 533–537; Arie, “Pomegranate”; Immerwahr, “The Pomegranate Vase,” 401, 403, pl. 71; Nigro and Spagnoli, “Pomegranate,” 77– 88. The imagery of buds and evenly shaped freshly harvested pomegranates is probably linked to the existence of actual fruit tree crops, which is unlikely for the Philistine coastal strip, see above. Cant 4:3, 6:7. In the cultic context manufactured pomegranates serve to decorate the hem of the priests’ clothing (Exod 28:33–34) and the capitals of the temple pillars (1 Kgs 7:18, 20). Here imagined are garlands and branches with buds or small fruits probably from a dwarf-shrub (P. protopunica, Zohary, Plants, 62). For the dating of 1 Sam 5–6 see Herring, Divine Substitution, 68 and n. 99; Middlemas, Image, 80 and n. 78; Dietrich, Samuel, 215–220.

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Nevertheless, the earlier (§2) observed existence of parallel views that are not brought into contradiction and are neither commented upon nor discussed in the text but subtly dissolved in the narrative, can be detected here again: - According to the Philistine point of view presented in the narrative the images, including the “swellings,” are designed to be functional. The expected outcome of the threefold empirical procedure – healing, relief, discernment (1 Sam 6:3, 5, 9) –, is dependent on a ritual setting of which the crucial elements, needed to recompense the ark (1 Sam 6:3–4, 8 ‫)השׁיב אשׁם‬ and to honor the God of Israel (1 Sam 6:5 ‫)נתן כבוד‬, are exactly these images. In addition, gold is explicitly the material of cult objects. 92 The cart and the cows however serve primarily as carrier substance. 93 - According to the non-Philistine narrator the images no longer appear in the story (1 Sam 6:11b). After the ark has arrived in Beth-Shemesh they simply fade out. 94 This happens at the very moment in the story when the attention is refocused on Yhwh. The offering ceremony (‫ עלה עלה‬1 Sam 6:14b) dedicated to Yhwh is obviously not associated with any physical representation. Like the ark, the golden images are also at that moment completely out of sight. The final implemented but unexplained message in 1 Sam 6:14 is that in the cultic performance dedicated to Yhwh no image is involved. 95

4.

Images of Philistia: Conclusion

Our investigation of the communicative strategy in 1 Sam 5–6 has been guided by two interrelated questions: a) What does the non-Philistine author want us to think the Philistines think about the ark and its deity? b) How does he, by associating the Philistine speakers’ view to the non-Philistine narrator’s view, bring forth his message in the story? The differentiation proposed between “Philistine” and “non-Philistine” is in this article confined to the textual world 96 in 1 Sam 5–6 which is set out by the vocabulary used and the syntax applied (Tab. 1–4). Allusions to historical details 92 93 94 95 96

See n. 81. Cf. especially the cultic objects present in Exod 25 and 37, as well as the molten calf in Exod 32:2–4. See n. 55. In the later additions 1 Sam 6:15, 17, 18a the images are mentioned again, but it remains entirely unclear what happened to them. This conclusion contradicts the suggestion of the Philistine ritual specialists to pay honor, by images, to the God of Israel (1 Sam 6:5)! The historical reality does not allow to establish clear borders between ethnic units in the Levant during the Iron Age, cf. Maeir, “The Iron Age I Philistines,” 312, 318–320; Niemann, “Neighbors and Foes, Rivals and Kin,” 244, 264; Ben-Shlomo, “Judah,” 277–278; Shai, “Philistia and the Philistines,” 128–130.

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still known at the moment of the emergence of oral traditions and the text production, probably between the 9th to 7th century, cannot be excluded – see our proposition concerning cultic objects reminiscent of “swellings” –, but there seems first of all to be ideology 97 and fantasy 98 at work in the preserved text in 1 Sam 5–6. The aspect of fantasy in 1 Sam 5–6 concerns first of all the topic of difference, 99 e.g. between Philistine speakers and the narrator who is in this article identified as “non-Philistine” in order to avoid importing labels such as “Israelite” or “Judahite” that are not used in 1 Sam 5–6. In these two chapters the main topic is the ark and its relation to divine power. As mentioned above (§2), the juxtaposed views on the ark presented in the speeches and in the narrator’s parts are nowhere explained or brought to discussion, the text has not a “propositional force” but a “performative force” 100 which influences the reader by showing in a sort of dramatic staging the conclusive outcome. It is the result of the ordeal which culminates in the sacrifice for Yhwh (‫העלו עלה‬, 1 Sam 6:14b) that expresses the consequence of the protasis ‫ אם … יעלה‬of the conditional sentence in 1 Sam 6:9a and as such creates meaning. 101 Meaning is here created 1. by the entanglement of ritual instruction (1 Sam 6:9a) and narrative (1 Sam 6:14b) 2. by interlacing the represented Philistine view (1 Sam 6:9) and the non-Philistine narrator’s view (1 Sam 6:14) 3. by merging the reference to the ark (1 Sam 6:9a) with the reference to Yhwh (1 Sam 6:14b). In 1 Sam 5–6 we see differing, juxtaposed Philistine and non-Philistine views concerning the cause of the phenomena that occur once the ark has been brought to Philistia. In 1 Sam 6:14b these views converge. From the point of view of the non-Philistine narrator, the act of the sacrifice in 1 Sam 6:14b finally cancels out, in a dialectical sense, the “double readability” 102 (Philistine/non-Philistine) of the recounted events. According to the narrator’s point of view, the sacrifice for Yhwh (1 Sam 6:14b) clarifies that “he” (‫ הוא‬1 Sam 6:9) 103 is the cause of the phenomena that happened. Experiencing the non-polemizing double reada19F

193F

97 98 99 100 101

102 103

Cf. Maeir, “The Philistines be upon thee,” 162–163; Niemann, “Neighbors and Foes, Rivals and Kin,” 264. Cf. Jobling, 1 Samuel, 225–243, and above 2.2. with n. 50. Jobling, 1 Samuel, 242. Cf. Bloch, “Symbols, Song, Dance and Feature of Articulation,” 67, referring to the terminology of John L. Austin, 1962. The tertium comparationis, the link between the protasis of the conditional sentence in 1 Sam 6:9a and the final sacrifice in 1 Sam 6:14b is the “move up” expressed in the verb ‫“ עלה‬to go up” (qal) to Beth-Shemesh and “to bring up” (hif.) the offering to Yhwh. Feldt, “Fantastic Re-Collection,” 197. In the Philistine speech part, the pronoun ‫ הוא‬refers to the ark (!) see above 2.

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bility of phenomena and its final cancellation is part of the exciting adventure to which 1 Sam 5–6 guides its readers. 104 As an important point it should be noted that 1 Sam 5–6 does not portray the Philistines as enemies or oppressors, none of these “age-old images of who the Philistines were” 105 are present here. Attempts to recreate the characteristics of the Philistines must at least also, in addition to historical and archaeological investigation, 106 start with a new reading of the Biblical texts.

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104 105 106

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Conrad, Lawrence I. “The Biblical Tradition for the Plague of the Philistines.” JAOS 104.2 (1984): 281– 287. Dawson, Warren R. “The Mouse in Fable and Folklore.” Folklore 36.3 (1925): 227–248. Delcor, M. “Jahweh et Dagon (ou le Jahwisme face à la religion des Philistins, d'après 1 Sam. V).” VT 14.2 (1964): 136–154. Dever, William G. “Iron Age Kernoi and the Israelite Cult.” Pages 119–133 in Studies in the Archaeology of Israel and Neighboring Lands in Memory of Douglas L. Esse. Edited by S. R. Wolff. SAOC 59. ASOR Books 5. Chicago: Oriental Institute, 2001. Dick, Michael B. “Idols, Idolatry.” EBR 12 (2016): 806–813. Dietrich, Jan. Kollektive Schuld und Haftung. Religions- und rechtsgeschichtliche Studien zum Sündenkuhritus des Deuteronomiums und zu verwandten Texten. ORA 4. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010. ________. “Katastrophen im Altertum aus kulturanthropologischer und kulturphilosophischer Perspektive.” Pages 85–116 in Disaster and Relief Management. Katastrophen und ihre Bewältigung. Edited by A. Berlejung. FAT 81. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012. Dietrich, Walter. Samuel. BK VIII/1. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 2010. Dietrich, Walter and Thomas Naumann. Die Samuelbücher. EdF 287. Darmstadt: WBG, 1995. Dothan, Trude. The Philistines and Their Material Culture. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1982. Dothan, Trude and David Ben-Shlomo. “Ceramic Pomegranates and Their Relationship to Iron Age Cult.” Pages 3–16 in “Up to the Gates of Ekron.” Essays on the Archaeology and History of the Eastern Mediterranean in Honor of Seymour Gitin. Edited by S. White Crawford et al. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2007. Dothan, Trude and Moshe Dothan. People of the Sea. New York: MacMillan, 1992. Driver, G. R. “The Plague of the Philistines (1 Samuel v, 6-vi, 16).” The Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland 1.2 (1950): 50-52. Elkowicz, Dominik. Tempel und Kultplätze der Philister und der Völker des Ostjordanlandes. Eine Untersuchung zur Bau- und zur Kultgeschichte während der Eisenzeit I-II. AOAT 378. Münster: UgaritVerlag, 2012. Emanuel, Jeffrey P. “‘Dagon Our God’: Iron I Philistine Cult in Text and Archaeology.” JANER 16 (2016): 22–66. Erkan, M. and A. A. Kader. “Pomegranate (Punica granatum L.).” Pages 287–313, in Postharvest Biology and Technology of Tropical and Subtropical Fruits. Vol. 4: Mangosteen to White Sapote. Edited by E. M. Yahia. Woodhead Publishing Series in Food Science, Technology and Nutrition. ScienceDirect, Woodhead Publishing, 2011. Faust, Avraham. “‘The Inhabitants of Philistia’: On the Identity of the Iron I Settlers in the Periphery of the Philistine Heartland.” PEQ 151.2 (2019): 105–133. Feldt, Laura. “Fantastic Re-Collection: Cultural vs. Autobiographical Memory in the Exodus Narrative.” Pages 191–208 in Religious Narrative, Cognition and Culture. Image and Word in the Mind of Narrative. Edited by A. W. Geertz and J. S. Jensen. Religion, Cognition and Culture. London/New York: Routledge, 2011. Feldt, Laura. The Fantastic in Religious Narrative from Exodus to Elisha. Sheffield: Equinox, 2012. Finkelstein, Israel. “The Philistines in the Bible: A Late-Monarchic Perspective.” JSOT 27.2 (2002): 131– 167. Frolov, Serge. The Turn of the Cycle: 1 Samuel 1-8 in Synchronic and Diachronic Perspectives. BZAW 342. Berlin/New York: de Gruyter, 2004. Gal, Zvi. “Two Kernoi from Lower Galilee.” Atiqot XXII (1993): 121–124. Gehrke, Hans-Joachim. Geschichte des Hellenismus. Oldenbourg Grundriss der Geschichte 1b. 4th ed., Berlin: de Gruyter, 2008. George, Mark K. “Ark of the Covenant.” EBR 1 (2009): 744–754. Gesenius, Wilhelm. Hebräisches und Aramäisches Handwörterbuch über das Alte Testament. 18. Auflage. Edited by R. Meyer und H. Donner. Berlin etc.: Springer, 1987ff. Geyer, John B. “Mice and Rites in 1 Samuel V–VI.” VT 31.3 (1981): 293–304. Grillet, Bernard and Michel Lestienne. La Bible d’Alexandrie. Paris: Cerf, 1997. Haldane, Cheryl. “Direct Evidence for Organic Cargoes in the Late Bronze Age.” World Archaeology 24.3 (1993): 348–360.

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Hardmeier, Christof. Textwelten der Bibel entdecken. Rundlagen und Verfahren einer textpragmatischen Literaturwissenschaft der Bibel. Textpragmatische Studien zur Literatur- und Kulturgeschichte der Hebräischen Bibel, 1/1. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2003. Helck, Wolfgang. “Ein sprachliches Indiz für die Herkunft der Philister.“ BN 21 (1983): 31. Herring, Stephen L. Divine Substitution: Humanity as the Manifestation of Deity in the Hebrew Bible and the Ancient Near East. FRLANT 247. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck, 2013. Hoftijzer, J. and K. Jongeling. Dictionary of the Northwest Semitic Inscriptions. HdO. Erste Abteilung. Der Nahe und Mittlere Osten, 21, 1–2. Leiden etc.: Brill, 1995. Immerwahr, Sara A. “The Pomegranate Vase: Its Origins and Continuity.” Hesperia: The Journal of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens 58.4 (1989): 397–410. Jenni, Ernst. Die hebräischen Präpositionen. Band 3: Die Präposition Lamed. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2000. ________. Die hebräischen Präpositionen. Band 1: Die Präposition Beth. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1992. Jobling, David. 1 Samuel. Berit Olam: Studies in Hebrew Narrative & Poetry. Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 1998. Klein, Ralph W. 1 Samuel. Word Biblical Commentary. Waxo, Tex.: Word Books, 1983. Korada, Manoja Kumar. The Rationale for Aniconism in the Old Testament. A Study of Select Texts. Contributions to Biblical Exegesis & Theology, 86. Leuven etc.: Peeters, 2017. Krüger, Thomas. Kohelet (Prediger). BK.AT XIX (Sonderband). Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 2000. Lachmann, Renate. Erzählte Phantastik. Zu Phantasiegeschichte und Semantik phantastischer Texte. Suhrkamp Taschenbuch Wissenschaft. Berlin: Suhrkamp, 2002. Levtow, Nathaniel B. Images of Others. Biblical and Judaic Studies from the University of California, San Diego 11. Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2008. Lipiński, Edward. Peuples de la Mer, Phéniciens, Puniques. Études d’épigraphie et d’histoire méditerranéenne. OLA 237. Leuven etc.: Peeters, 2015. Machinist, Peter. “Fate, miqreh, and Reason: Some Reflections on Qohelet and Biblical Thought.” Pages 159–175 in Solving Riddles and Untying Knots: Biblical, Epigraphic, and Semitic Studies in Honor of Jonas C. Greenfield. Edited by Z. Zevit, S. Gitin, M. Sokoloff. Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 1995. Madreiter, Irene. Rituale zur Seuchen- und Schadensabwehr. PhD (unpublished) Innsbruck, 2005. 287 p. Maeir, Aren M., Alexander Fantalkin, Alexander Zukerman. “The Earliest Greek Import in the Iron Age Levant: New Evidence from Tel es-Safi/Gath, Israel.” AWE 8 (2009): 57–80. ________. “Did Captured Ark Afflict Philistines with E.D.?” BArR 34/3 (2008): 46–51. ________. “A New Interpretation of the Term ʿopalim (‫ )עפלים‬in the Light of Recent Archaeological Finds from Philistia.” JSOT 32.1 (2007): 23–40. ________. “Iron Age I Philistines: Entangled Identities in a Transformative Period.” Pages 310–323 in The Social Archaeology of the Levant from Prehistory to the Present. Edited by A. Yasur-Landau, E. H. Cline, Y. M. Rowan. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2019. ________. “The Philistines be upon thee, Samson (Jud. 16:20): Reassessing the Martial Nature of the Philistines – Archaeological Evidence vs. Ideological Image?” Pages 158–168 in Change, Continuity and Connectivity: North-Eastern Mediterranean at the Turn of the Bronze Age and in the Early Iron Age. Edited by L. Niesiołowski-Spanò and M. Węcowski. Philippika 118. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2018. Mazar, Amihai. “The Temples and Cult of the Philistines.” Pages 213–232 in The Sea Peoples and Their World: A Reassessment. Edited by E. D. Oren. University Monograph 108, University Symposium Series 11. Philadelphia, Pa.: University Museum, 2000. Mazar, Avraham. “Excavations at Tell Qasile: Part I: The Philistine Sanctuary: Architecture and Cult Objects.” Qedem 12 (1980): 1–153. McCarter, P. Kyle, Jr. I Samuel. AB 8. Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1980. McKane, William. I & II Samuel. Torch Bible Commentaries. London: SCM Press, 1963. Middlemas, Jill. The Divine Image. Prophetic Aniconic Rhetoric and Its Contribution to the Aniconism Debate. FAT 2. Reihe 74. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014. Militarev, Alexander and Leonid Kogan. Semitic Etymological Dictionary. Vol. I: Anatomy of Man and Animals. AOAT 278/1. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2000.

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Miller, Patrick D., Jr. and J. J. M. Roberts. The Hand of the Lord: A Reassessment of the “Ark Narrative” of 1 Samuel. Atlanta: SBL, 2008. Na’aman, Nadav. “No Anthropomorphic Graven Image? Notes on the Assumed Anthropomorphic Cult Statues in the Temples of YHWH in the Pre-exilic Period.” UF 31 (1999): 391–415. Naether, Franziska. Die Sortes Astrampsychi. ORA 3. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010. Niemann, Hermann Michael. “Neighbors and Foes, Rivals and Kin: Philistines, Shepheleans, Judeans between Geography and Economy, History and Theology.” Pages 243–264 in The Philistines and Other “Sea Peoples” in Text and Archaeology. Edited by A. E. Killebrew and G. Lehmann. Atlanta: SBL, 2013. Nigro, Lorenzo and Federica Spagnoli. “Pomegranate (Punica granatum L.) from Motya and its Deepest Oriental Roots.” Vicino Oriente 22 (2018): 49–90. Penchansky, David. Twilight of the Gods: Polytheism in the Hebrew Bible. Louisville KY: John Knox Press, 2005. Pintore, Franco. “Seren, Tarwanis, Tyrannos.” Pages 285–322 in Studi orientalistici in ricordo di Franco Pintore. Studia Mediterranea 4. Pavia: GJES Edizioni, 1983. Pisano, Stephen. Additions or Omissions in the Books of Samuel: The Significant Pluses and Minuses in the Massoretic, LXX and Qumran Texts. OBO 57. Freiburg/Göttingen: Universitätsverlag/Vandenhoeck, 1984. Schäfer-Lichtenberger, Christa. “Beobachtungen zur Ladegeschichte und zur Komposition der Samuelbücher.” Pages 323–338 in Freiheit und Recht, Festschrift für Frank Crüsemann zum 65. Geburtstag. Edited by C. Hardmeier, R. Kessler, A. Ruwe. Gütersloh: Kaiser/Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2003. Schenker, Adrian. “Textverderbnis und literarische Umgestaltung. Textgeschichte von 1 Sam 5:1–6 im Vergleich zwischen dem hebräischen Text der Massoreten und der ältesten griechischen Bibel.” Pages 237–260 in Archaeology of the Books of Samuel. The Entangling of the Textual and Literary History. Edited by P. Hugo and A. Schenker. VT.S 132. Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2010. Schmitt, Rüdiger. “Magie und rituelles Heilen im Alten Testament.” Pages 183–197 in Zauber und Magie im antiken Palästina und in seiner Umwelt. Kolloquium des Deutschen Vereins zur Erforschung Palästinas vom 14. bis 16. November 2014 in Mainz. Edited by J. Kamlah, R. Schäfer and M. Witte. ADPV 46. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2017. Schroer, Silvia. Die Samuelbücher. NSK.AT 7. Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1992. Shai, Itzhaq. “Philistia and the Philistines in the Iron Age IIA.” ZDPV 127.2 (2011): 119–134. Stoebe, Hans Joachim. Das erste Buch Samuelis. KAT VIII.1. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 1973. Stolz, Fritz. Das erste und zweite Buch Samuel. ZBK.AT 9. Zürich: TVZ, 1981. Thomas, Ariane. “Les sons dans l’iconographie mésopotamienne (Appendice).” Pages 227–238, fig. 1– 18 in Rendu Loisel, Anne-Caroline. Les chants du monde. Le paysage sonore de l’ancienne Mésopotamie. Tempus. Toulouse: Presses universitaires du Midi, 2016. Trevisanato, Siro Igino. “The Biblical Plague of the Philistines Now Has a Name, Tularemia.” Medical Hypotheses 69 (2007): 1144–1146. Ulrich, Eugene Charles, Jr. The Qumran Text of Samuel and Josephus. HSM 19. Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press, 1978. Van der Toorn, Karel. “The Iconic Book: Analogies between the Babylonian Cult of Images and the Veneration of the Torah.” Pages 229–248 in The Image and the Book. Iconic Cults, Aniconism, and the Rise of Book Religion in Israel and the Ancient Near East. Edited by K. van der Toorn. Contributions to Biblical Exegesis & Theology, 21. Leuven: Peeters, 1997. Van Staalduine-Sulmann, Eveline. The Targum of Samuel. Studies in Aramaic Interpretation of Scripture 1. Leiden etc.: Brill, 2002. Van Wolde, Ellen. “Chance in the Hebrew Bible: Views in Job and Genesis 1.” Pages 130–149 in The Challenge of Chance. A Multidisciplinary Approach from Science and the Humanities. Edited by K. Landsman and E. van Wolde. The Frontiers Collection. Springer Open, 2016. Waldbaum, Jane C. “Early Greek Contacts with the Southern Levant, ca. 1000–600 B. C.: The Eastern Perspective.” BASOR 293 (1994): 53–66. Ward, Cheryl. “Pomegranates in Eastern Mediterranean Contexts during the Late Bronze Age.” World Archaeology 34.3 (2003): 529–541.

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Wilkinson, John. “The Philistine Epidemic of I Samuel 5 and 6.” The Expository Times 88 (1977): 137– 141. Zaia, Shana. “State-Sponsored Sacrilege: ‘Godnapping’ and Omission in Neo-Assyrian Inscriptions.” Journal of Ancient Near Eastern History 2.1 (2015): 19–54. Zohary, Michael. Plants of the Bible. A complete handbook to all the plants with 200 full-color plates taken in the natural habitat. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982.

Remembering Kingship: Samuel’s Contributions to Postmonarchic Culture Ian D. Wilson

Summary Kingship has been a political mainstay in human history, even when peoples have lacked monarchic rulers. This essay examines the book of Samuel as a source for the cultural history of ancient Judah, focusing on the question of how Samuel’s representations of monarchy would function for its readers in the early Second Temple era. In this era, when Samuel became a book, as it were, the people of Judah lacked an indigenous king, but they were thinking deeply about kingship nonetheless. The narrative of kingship’s beginnings in Israel, as represented in Samuel, demonstrates that Judeans had no single response to kingship, no unified understanding of monarchy’s meaning as part of their political past. And Samuel himself, the figure in the narrative, would mediate this complex of political remembering for the book’s ancient readers. Das Königtum war eine politische Stütze in der Menschheitsgeschichte, selbst zu Zeiten, als es keine monarchischen Herrscher gab. Dieser Beitrag untersucht die Samuelbücher als eine Quelle für die Kulturgeschichte des antiken Juda und konzentriert sich dabei auf die Frage, wie Samuels Darstellungen der Monarchie für seine Leser in der frühen Zeit des Zweiten Tempels aussehen würden. In dieser Zeit, als die Samuelbücher entstanden, fehlte den Menschen in Juda ein eigener König, aber sie dachten dennoch intensiv über das Königtum nach. Die Erzählung von den Anfängen des Königtums in Israel, wie sie in den Samuelbüchern präsentiert wird, zeigt, dass die Judäer keine einlinige Antwort auf das Königtum hatten, kein einheitliches Verständnis von der Bedeutung der Monarchie als Teil ihrer politischen Vergangenheit. Samuel, die Hauptfigur in der Erzählung, vermittelt diese Idee des politischen Gedächtnisses für die antiken Leser des Buches.

1.

On Kings, Anthropology, and Ancient Judean Literature

In a recent work, David Graeber and Marshall Sahlins – two of the world’s most noted anthropologists – examine the human political phenomenon of kingship. “[O]nce established,” they write, “kings appear remarkably difficult to get rid of.” 1 This statement is true, they argue, not only for certain historical instances of monarchic rule (e.g., the British monarchy) but also for human society in general, throughout its known history. Kingship, as a form of governance, has been 1

Graeber and Sahlins, On Kings, 1.

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the norm in human life. In our twenty-first century context, it is sometimes easy to forget this fact, especially in places like the United States, where many citizens (myself included) imagine themselves having finally shaken off monarchy and kingly rule. 2 But even in these modern political settings, as Graeber and Sahlins point out, talk of “popular sovereignty” has its roots in the idea of monarchic power being distributed among the people (compare Isa 55:1–5). 3 And thus, such power is at the ready to be re-concentrated in the hands of an individual, in certain conditions. Referencing the eighteenth-century Scottish jurist Henry Home (Lord Kames), Graeber and Sahlins write, “[T]he difference between absolute despotism, where all are equal except for one man, and absolute democracy, is simply one man.” 4 So, kingship has been around more-or-less forever, it hasn’t really gone anywhere (even for those without a king or queen), and it probably isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. This was true for ancient Judean society, as it is for us today. Another general point that Graeber and Sahlins make is that, for nearly all of our history, humans have understood monarchy in terms of divinity and sacredness. Monarchic power is typically believed to be something other, a power somehow distinguishable from commonplace social hierarchies, whether this power comes from beyond one’s immediate human-social sphere (i.e., from another culture or society) or from beyond human-social existence in general (i.e., from some divine realm). 5 Because of this power’s perceived otherness, societies tend to speak about their kings as transcending their immediate social and even general human contexts (i.e., divinization), or they tend to set apart and protect their kings within those contexts (i.e., sanctification), in order to harbor perceptions of divine power. Graeber and Sahlins outline how these two processes – divinization and sanctification – go hand-in-hand in the context of kingship politics, balancing each other in the establishment, institutionalization, and maintenance of kingly rule. 6 In the book of Samuel, we can see this balancing act between divine and human power, between kingship’s perceived sanctity and its relative profaneness, between the interests of insiders and outsiders, upstarts and dynasts, within the narrative about the establishment of monarchy in ancient Israel. In this essay, I would like to unpack how Samuel represents the founding of kingship in Israel, in order to learn something about the culture of the book’s 2

3 4 5

6

I now reside in Canada, a nation subject to a crown, where coins feature an image of the English Queen along with the Latin inscription “D.G.Regina” (= Dei Gratia Regina, “By the grace of God, Queen”). I would venture, however, that most Canadians seldom think about monarchy, despite its continuing presence in their lives. See Wilson, Kingship, 217–20. Graeber and Sahlins, On Kings, 12. That said, Graeber and Sahlins warn against drawing too sharp of a distinction between understandings of “everyday” human life and understandings of divine or “metahuman” existence. For many, the divine is present in the everyday (On Kings, 19–20). See Graeber and Sahlins, On Kings, 7–12 and passim.

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ancient Judean readers. 7 The book, which is one part of a larger ancient discourse on Israel and Judah’s past, has a take on monarchy, a response of sorts. But this take is not singular. As readers of the book have long noticed, the text is unsure of its own position vis-à-vis monarchic power. The book represents a variety of voices that speak about and to the institution. 8 On the one hand, this multivocality is a product of the book’s long compositional history – there is no doubt that the book of Samuel came together over an extended period and reflects different authorial voices and their times. 9 On the other hand, the fact that various voices were preserved in individual texts, and that these voices were collated with certain and sometimes diverse narrative aims within the book, also says something about the culture of those that initially received the texts and produced and read the book, in Judah’s early Second Temple era. 10 As 7

8 9

10

“Culture” deserves some explication. Generally, following the work of anthropologist Clifford Geertz, I understand culture to be the interrelated systems of meaning produced and maintained by various aspects of human life in a social setting (see Wilson, History, 6–13). Another prominent anthropologist, Maurice Bloch, defines culture as “that which needs to be known in order to operate reasonably effectively in a specific human environment” (How We Think, 4). I mention Bloch because he provides an important addition to Geertz’s formulation: Bloch’s work shows that “that which needs to be known” includes more than just conscious meaningmaking in social contexts. Culture also includes mostly unconscious, non-linguistic cognitive patterns that serve as models for our day-to-day activities, whether those activities are individual or social (see Bloch, How We Think, 3–21; also idem, Anthropology). My research interests, however, lie in cultures of history in social contexts – i.e., how societies construct meanings in their discourses about past-times or, put more simply, how people think and talk about their shared past. And so, with these sorts of questions in mind, I find Geertz’s formulation of culture to be instructive. The book of Samuel is the product of a particular ancient society, and is therefore a kind of source for that society’s systems of conscious thought and meaning-making. Sahlins, already noted above and discussed more below, takes a similar approach to his anthropological-historical work, focusing on the significations that make past persons and happenings mean something to those remembering them. Elsewhere I have argued that the book’s response to kingship is akin to Orwellian “doublethink.” See Wilson, Kingship, 77–130. Reconstructions of this compositional history abound and abide. See, e.g., the various discussions and references in Dietrich, Early Monarchy, 8–11, 227–316; Kratz, Composition, 153–215, esp. 158–86; Schmid, Old Testament, passim; Hutton, Transjordanian Palimpsest, 79–156; and Carr, Formation, passim. Most agree that the book of Samuel, as we know it, as part of a larger corpus of Judean literature, came together in Judah’s postmonarchic and “postexilic” era, probably in the early Second Temple period (see, e.g., Dietrich, Early Monarchy, 8–11; and idem, “Layer Model”; with further references in each). To what extent the book represents discourse in this particular period, however, is a point of debate. E.g., Hutton (Transjordanian Palimpsest) argues that the book’s older, monarchic-era sources are essentially knowable within the book itself, and so the book affords us access to monarchic-era political and theological concerns. Similarly, Polak (“Conceptions”) shows how the book retains elements of a monarchic-era context, despite later editorial or redactional activity. These searches for textual origins, and others like them (noted above), reveal the complexity of the book’s composition over time. This study, however, looks at the issue from the opposite chronological perspective. It asks what the book’s emergence as such, in the postmonarchic era, says about the community in which and for which it emerged. Compare, e.g., Adam, “What Made”; and Bolin, “1–2 Samuel.” See also Müller (Königtum) who is

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David Jobling has argued, the book fails to control its subject matter, but apparent contradictions in the book’s narratives reflect “contradictions within the mindset that receives them. The community creating and living by this text was not of a single mind about what the past had bequeathed them.” 11 The book of Samuel would play a key role in Judean readers’ negotiation of dissonance in their remembering of the monarchy and monarchic rule. And the story of Samuel himself, the figure within the book, would represent and speak to the dissonant positions concerning kingship, in a postmonarchic setting. By complicating memories of kingship, its beginnings and outcomes in the Israelite and Judean past, the reading of Samuel would enable ongoing debate within its literary culture about the significance of kingship (and other types of leadership too) for Judah’s present and future. Kingship is indeed remarkably difficult to get rid of. It hangs around as a concept to think with, as an idea through which one might explore questions of power and divinity, identity and otherness, even when there is no king in sight.

2.

On History, Theory, and Method

Graeber and Sahlins’s general observations about kingship can be instructive here, as a conceptual and methodological starting point. The original composers and readers of the book of Samuel, I submit, would wrestle with whether to divinize, sanctify, or perhaps even villainize the notion of kingship. It was either something to revere, something to protect, or perhaps even something to try and expel from their social and cultural context as time moved on. But they certainly would not have ignored or dismissed or forgotten the issue of monarchic rule in their day and age; it was central to their thought and their literary interests, because it was the only politics they had ever really known. They had had kings and would continue to have kings. In the early Second Temple period, when Samuel became a book, as it were, the Judeans may not have had indigenous kings, but they were ruled by kings nonetheless; and they were thinking deeply about kingship and its place in Judah’s story. The book’s narrative composition, how it presents its story about the rise of kingship in Israel and how it raises questions about kingship’s function in Israelite life, is a source for ancient Judean thought on these issues. It is a literary artifact that reveals insight into the community mindset that David Jobling mentions in the quote above. Judeans read the book of Samuel as a source

11

attentive to many of the same diachronic issues that Hutton and others address, in relation to the monarchy, but who nonetheless situates Judah’s discourse on kingship primarily in the postmonarchic era. Jobling, I Samuel, 19. Italics in the original.

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for knowledge of their political past, and they did so in their present political moment, informing present concerns and interests. I quote Graeber and Sahlins again, this time at length: Embedding the present in terms of a remembered past, this kind of culturally instituted temporality is a fundamental mode of history-making, from the omnipresent Dreamtime of Australian Aboriginals to the state politics of Kongo kings. But then, what actually happens in a given situation is always constituted by cultural significations that transcend the parameters of the happening itself: Bobby Thomson didn’t simply hit the ball over the left-field fence, he won the pennant [the famous “shot heard round the world” of American baseball lore]. The better part of history is atemporal and cultural: not “what actually happened,” but what it is that happened. 12

So, when I examine a book like Samuel, I look to it as a source for history, but not as a source for any actual happenings in the early days of Israel’s monarchy. To be clear, this is not to say that the book lacks information that might inform some knowledge of Israel’s monarchic history. 13 I mean to say only that my research here is not interested in reconstructing those happenings. When I look to Samuel for history, I look to it for knowledge of how the ancient Judeans would think about their own past. The book is, then, a source for the cultural history of its primary context, a kind of “source for the knowledge of itself.” 14 In another work, Sahlins comments that, once an “event” happens in a human domain (say, the establishment of kingly rule in ancient Israel), it is “given a definite cultural value” and assumes “some particular effect, as orchestrated by the relations of the particular cultural scheme.” 15 Ultimately, my work here (and in general) aims to get a bit closer to the Judean cultural scheme of kingship, via the book of Samuel – a book that is the “particular effect” so to speak, of an ancient Judean social phenomenon: the preserving and remembering of the Israelite past. 16 Here at the outset, I belabor some of these historical-methodological matters because they have been longstanding points of contention in Hebrew Bible studies. Scholarship in our field has often made a point of distinguishing between maximalism and minimalism, reality and ideology, history and fiction, and so on. 17 Already in 1980, at the centennial meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature in Dallas, Texas, the classicist Arnaldo Momigliano commented on the 12 13

14 15 16

17

Graeber and Sahlins, On Kings, 17. See Sahlins, Apologies, 125–93, for examples of such cultural significations, including an extended discussion of Bobby Thomson’s home run. Dietrich, Early Monarchy, is a parade example of a study that utilizes Samuel and other sources to work toward a history of Israel’s monarchy. Note, however, that Dietrich prioritizes reception history and synchronic readings of the book as we know it, before he argues for possible textual precursors and early Iron Age happenings. Compare Liverani, “Memorandum,” 179 and passim. Sahlins, Culture, 299. On this kind of approach, see Wilson, History. See also the recent essays by Gilmour (“Who Captured Jerusalem?”) and Zimran (“Divine vs. Human”) on the book of Samuel, which have some general affinities to my approach here, even though they differ on some of the particulars. See Tobolowsky, “Israelite and Judahite History,” esp. 34–37.

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issue of such methodological distinctions in the work of ancient history, biblical studies included. 18 Momigliano’s lecture aimed to show that, in the work of history, biblical sources are no more or no less problematic than ancient Greek and Latin sources; and that, given their significant overlap, the fields of biblical studies and classics should converse more regularly. But in the course of his lecture he also expressed serious concern about “the current devaluation of the notion of evidence” and the “corresponding overappreciation of rhetoric and ideology” in historical analyses. 19 He places blame for these tendencies directly at the feet of historical theorist Hayden White, especially White’s well known and much discussed interest in blurring lines between historiographical and fictional discourses. Too many in our field, I think, have taken up Momigliano’s early critiques of White (and other, similar critiques of studies that problematize historiography) without fully considering the implications of White’s work and influence. Throughout his career, White never fully dissolved the boundary between fact and fiction. His overarching program, put very simply, was to show that factual narrative discourses and fictional narrative discourses have much in common. But White knew that there is a real difference between fact and fiction, and that the interpretive work of historians contributes to the knowledge of this difference. The problem is that he took it for granted. His work never sought to explicate what Paul Ricoeur called the “documentary moment” in historical work; that is, the presumption that historians, in our modern era at least, will select and interpret truthful sources in the crafting of history, and that historians will honestly relay those truths to their readers. 20 When we take up these questions of history and rhetoric, of facts and ideology, in relation to the book of Samuel, our main trouble is that we know very little, if anything, about the book’s documentary moment, to borrow Ricoeur’s term. We know little about the compositional epistemologies and practices of those who originally produced the book and other books like it. We are limited to educated guesses based upon the text of the book itself and upon comparisons between it and what we know about other ancient artifacts, literary and otherwise. And getting at the documentary moments of any older sources that might have informed the book is even more challenging. 21 Another trouble is that our historical analyses of Samuel sometimes conflate questions of the book’s rhetorical or ideological features with questions of the book’s documentary moment. In other words, occasionally scholars argue that features of the writing itself can reveal the factuality (or fictionality) of its content, which is precisely the kind of approach that Hayden White’s work warns 18 19 20 21

See Momigliano, Essays, 3–9. Momigliano, Essays, 3. See Wilson, History, 14–21, for further discussion and references. Note, however, recent studies by Pioske (e.g., “Retracing”; Memory), which work toward elucidating our knowledge of ancient scribal epistemologies.

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against. Wellhausen’s argument for the historical reliability of 2 Sam 9 to 1 Kgs 2 is the classic example of this approach. This part of Samuel–Kings, he states, “frequently affords us a glance into the very heart of events, showing us the natural occasions and human motives which gave rise to different actions.” 22 In other words, for Wellhausen, the narrative complexity of the books’ plots and characters evinces, at least to some extent, the historicity of their narrative. 23 Lester Grabbe does something similar in a recent essay on Samuel: he argues that there probably was a historical Saul because Saul’s story seems to have been a problem for the composer(s) of the book. 24 Elements of Saul’s story and elements of David’s story – issues of divine chosenness and dynasty in particular (issues to which I return, below) – do not seem to mesh. So why not just get rid of Saul and start the story with David? – because, Grabbe proposes, Saul was an actual king with an actual royal family, and whoever was responsible for the book of Samuel was duty-bound to preserve this historical fact. For me, this is an interpretive leap too far, taking us beyond what Samuel can tell us about its own documentary moment and the intentions of its composer(s). In my estimation, the narrative problems that Grabbe identifies tell us that the composer of the book perhaps thought Saul was a real personage of the past, or that stories of Saul (whether factual or not) were important enough in the composer’s day that the composer could not omit them. But these narrative features do not prove the historicity of a king named Saul. Whether Saul (or David) was a real person in Israel’s past, and what the book of Samuel can tell us about the interests of those who produced and read the book – these should be two different kinds of questions, for historians who work with the Bible. 25 And an approach that takes up these latter questions – that is, questions of the book’s cultural function in the remembering of Israel’s monarchy, can still lead to important historical insights. In the balance of this essay, my brief analysis of Samuel’s representation of the establishment of kingship aims to help us better understand the culture of kingship in a postmonarchic setting. What would readers of the book of Samuel, taking up stories of the Israelite past for insights and knowledge, think about monarchy and monarchic rule? What potential understandings of kingship are there in the text, and what might those understandings tell us about the culture of the text? How did Judean readers think about “what it is that happened,” to use Graeber and Sahlins’ expression, in relation to their monarchic past? I focus 22 23 24 25

Wellhausen, Prolegomena, 262. For similar approaches, see von Rad, Problem of the Hexateuch, 166–204; Halpern, David’s Secret Demons; and Baden, Historical David. Grabbe, “Mighty Men,” 90. E.g., Milstein (Tracking, 174–206) provides an account of scribal culture and interests relating to Saul, one that resists linking such an account to any claims about Saul’s historicity. To be clear, I am not opposed to arguments for Saul’s or David’s historicity as a king of Israel. I simply do not think that narrative features in the Hebrew Bible are sufficient grounds for making such arguments.

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mainly on the story of Samuel himself, as represented in the book, as a mediating figure between different political stances and issues.

3.

On Governments and Dynasties, Divine Choices and Promises, Samuel Being Stuck in the Middle26

Biblical scholars have argued that the book of Samuel, in its postmonarchic context, was wrapped up in political debate. 27 The book is in conversation, so to speak, with the book of Judges, and each is exploring the various merits and weaknesses of judgeship and kingship. 28 But neither side really wins the debate. The narrative goes in such odd directions throughout both books that it is difficult for it to sustain an argument for either form of human government. At the center of this narrative of diverse and overlapping governments is the figure of Samuel, who variously plays the roles of priest, prophet, and judge. He is the prime aporia of the text, the paradox that initiates and fuels the narrative’s multivocality concerning politics. He at once stabilizes and destabilizes kingship, becoming a talking point within the discourse that can either support or detract from kingly rule. Thinking about this narrative aporia concerning different forms of government, Jobling comments, “[K]ingship emerge[s] not at judgeship’s nadir but at its zenith”; and, “It is more than ironic that the stalwart foe of kingship [i.e., Samuel] should become its cause.” 29 Read together, the books of Judges and Samuel are neither pro-kingship nor anti-kingship (nor are they pro- or anti-judgeship for that matter). These books represent multiple voices on the issue, and 26 27

28

29

This section is adapted from Wilson, Kingship, 93–99. To reemphasize what I note above, here I am concerned with the book and its emergence as part of a distinct discursive horizon in Judah’s postmonarchic era. Samuel, of course, contains material that likely originated in earlier contexts (e.g., Polak, “Conceptions”). But the incorporation of this older material with other materials constituted new discourse, a new composition, which was likely read as such in its postmonarchic context. E.g., Jobling, I Samuel, 43; Dietrich, “History and Law,” 318. Marvin Sweeney recently made a similar argument about Samuel in his Craigie Lecture at the Canadian Society of Biblical Studies annual meeting, given at the University of British Columbia on June 2, 2019. Also note that a number of scholars understand Judges as an ideological introduction to Samuel, which prepares readers for the fall of Benjaminite Saul and the rise of Judahite David: e.g., Brettler, Book of Judges, 111–16; Amit, “Book of Judges”; Milstein, Tracking, 174–206. Jobling, I Samuel, 58, 63. Reversal of expectations is a consistent theme in Israel’s overarching storyline: Joshua inspired the people to serve Yhwh faithfully (Josh 24:31; Judg 2:7), but shortly after his death, within a couple of generations, the people turn to apostasy (Judg 2:10–13); further, David and Solomon bring the kingdom of Israel to unprecedented greatness, building the temple in Jerusalem, but Solomon, in his old age, turns to other gods and the kingdom unravels shortly after his death (1 Kgs 11–12). Note that all of this is foreshadowed in Moses’s speech in the book of Deuteronomy (e.g., Deut 27–31). One comes to expect unexpected turns.

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Samuel’s story is the crux of the conversation. Although the book of Samuel ultimately deals with the institution of monarchy in Israel and the establishment of Davidic rule in particular, it begins with the narrative of Samuel himself. It is Samuel who sets the stage for Saul’s fall and David’s rise, and it is Samuel who continues to haunt the narrative – figuratively and literally – long after his main scene has concluded. Recognizing the strong connections between the books of Judges and Samuel, Judean readers would place Samuel himself within the age of judgeship, specifically during the period of Philistine oppression begun with Samson’s story (Judg 13:1). 30 This is what, at least on the surface, makes the beginning of Samuel so surprising as part of the larger Judean discourse on kingship. The book of Judges implies that human leadership mostly failed in this period, but then a powerful and faithful Ephraimite 31 judge – who happens also to be a priestly figure (1 Sam 2:11, 18) and a prophet (1 Sam 3) – emerges to quell Philistine oppression (1 Sam 7:13). With this, he finally purges Israel of its Baalim and Ashtaroth, so that the people may “serve” (‫ )עבד‬Yhwh alone (1 Sam 7:4; contrast Judg 2:11, 13, 19; 3:6–7). In recent years a good deal of work has addressed the issue of Samuel’s characterization, especially with regard to his variety of leadership roles. 32 Samuel’s role as a prophet is perhaps most dominant in the Judean literature, as it is in later textual traditions. 33 But the overarching emphasis on Samuel as prophet does not diminish his priestly and judge-like characteristics in the narrative at hand. In fact, prior to the elders’ request for a king and the appearance of Saul, Samuel’s story mainly emphasizes his role as judge. 34 In line with what one finds in the book of Judges, the priest Eli – Samuel’s mentor – “judges/rules” (‫)שפט‬ Israel for forty years (1 Sam 4:18); and after Eli’s death, Samuel’s most significant achievements, defeating the Philistines and purging idolatry, are judge-like activities. In any case, the text spells it out directly, saying that Samuel 30

31

32 33 34

There are salient tribal and geographical correspondences between the books of Judges and Samuel: e.g., Judah and Benjamin, the “house of God” at Shiloh, as well as Gibeah, Ramah, and Jerusalem. In addition, as scholars have often observed, Samuel himself forms a kind of inclusio with the judge Samson. Both have mothers that were once barren, both are not to cut their hair (4QSama 1:22 even states that Hannah dedicated Samuel as a nazirite; cf. Josephus, Ant. 5.347; Gilmour, Representing, 55–56), and both fight the Philistines. Samuel’s father, Elkanah, is said to be “from the hills of Ephraim” (‫)מהר אפרים‬, while his distant ancestor, Zuph, is labeled an “Ephratite” (‫)אפרתי‬, perhaps linking Samuel’s ancestry with the tribe of Judah, and therefore with David (1 Sam 1:1; cf. 17:12; Ruth 1:2). See Leuchter, “Jeroboam,” 60–61. Elsewhere, however, ‫ אפרתי‬clearly indicates someone from Ephraim (Judg 12:5), so the reference in 1 Sam 1:1 is ambiguous. Complicating matters further, in the genealogies of Chronicles, Samuel is a Levite (1 Chr 6:13, 18). E.g., Steussy, David, 27–47; Gilmour, Representing, 53–56; Leuchter, Samuel. In addition to 1 Sam 3, see 1 Sam 9; 19:20; 1 Chr 9:22; 11:3; 2 Chr 35:18; Sir 46:13–20, each of which associates him with prophetic activity (Leuchter, Samuel, 41, 83–86). Cf. Samuel’s actions in 1 Sam 11, which are very judge-like, and the statement in 1 Sam 12:11. See Steussy, David, 34–35.

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“judged/ruled” (‫ )שפט‬Israel all his life (1 Sam 7:15), and that he appointed his sons to carry on the task (1 Sam 8:1). At this point, then, the narrative construes Samuel as a priestly judge who prophesies and leads Israel with great success. 35 Here, his role as judge in particular has special import in the larger narrative construction. Samuel’s rise to prominence as a judge ostensibly suggests that judgeship is in fine shape. Samuel does exactly what judges are supposed to do, which would encourage the readership to bracket or temporarily forget Yhwh’s words in Judg 10:13–14 and the increasingly ineffective cycles of judgeship remembered in the book of Judges. But then there is 1 Sam 8:1–5. At this point in Samuel’s narrative, when readers might have expected resolution – the reestablishment of ongoing, proper judgeship under Yhwh’s rule, a result of Samuel’s great success – they would instead encounter yet another turning point. The narrative undermines itself. Instead of engendering answers, it raises more questions. 36 Samuel has grown “old” (‫)זקן‬, 37 and despite all his righteousness and accomplishments, his sons turn out to be scoundrels. 1 Sam 8 thus explores issues of ancestral power transfer. Samuel appoints his scandalous sons as judges in his stead, but the elders do not trust the sons in this role. A similar exploration of ancestry and power is found in Judges 8–9: in that text, Gideon denies a dynasty, yet his ruthless son tries to start one anyway. In 1 Sam 8, Samuel tries to start a dynasty, yet his sons are inept to rule. Gideon and Abimelech and Samuel and his sons offer variations on a theme: having dynasty means taking the sons along with the father, the bad apples along with the good, which has all kinds of potential ramifications. In response to Samuel’s dynastic failure, the elders request a king (‫ )מלך‬to “rule/judge” (‫ )שפט‬like all the other nations (1 Sam 8:5). Here we encounter the issue of indigenous versus exogenous forms of government, an issue highlighted by Graeber and Sahlins in their study of kingship. 38 Notice the contrast between 231F

23 F

234F

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36 37

38

The blending of roles is to be expected anyway: e.g., Deborah, the prophet-judge (Judg 4:4), and of course the multitasking Moses, with whom Samuel shares many characteristics (Leuchter, Samuel, 33, 36, 51–52). The narratives construe a distant past in which a single person could conduct the activities of judgeship, prophecy, and priesthood. In the ancient Near East there is concrete evidence for such overlap. In Egypt, for instance, priestly officials also conducted prophetic duties (Edelman “Of Priests”; Leuchter, Samuel, 43–44). As is its habit. See Wilson, Kingship, 35–40. Compare the reference to David’s old age in 1 Kgs 1:1 and to Solomon’s old age in 1 Kgs 11:4. In the Deuteronomistic corpus, the discourse suggests a correlation between old age and incompetence in leadership. Moses, of course, provides the exception that proves the rule (Deut 34:7). One of the central talking points in Judean discourse is whether kingship was (or should have been) an insiders-only endeavor. Graeber and Sahlins’s research suggests that societies tend to view kingship, and the king himself, as a power that initially comes from outside, in order to conquer and dominate; and that only after the king is established do societies sanctify and harbor the office to protect its power within their particular settings (see On Kings, 5–7). The Hebrew Bible, of course, contains a variety of perspectives on this issue: Deuteronomy acknowledges that kingship, the office, is a foreign concept, but it insists that the king himself

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Samuel’s growing old (‫ )זקן‬and the elders’ (‫ )זקנים‬doubting his sons, and between the sons’ appointments as judges (‫ )שפטים‬and the elders’ desire for a king’s judicial rule (‫)שפט‬. There is some irony here: old age brings both folly and wisdom. Also, compare the request to Gideon (Judg 8:22), in which a judge was asked to rule like a king (‫)משל‬. The line between judgeship and kingship is blurred. The elders’ request to Samuel is ironic, too, because kingship itself is dynastic. 39 It will not solve their problem in the long run – kings, like judges, can have sour offspring, and they often do. The elders, however, seem to have something different in mind. The king they want seems to be the ideal king of Deuteronomy, one who reads Torah and whose descendants will reign long over Israel. The elders’ request clearly alludes to the peculiar king-law of Deut 17:14–20 (compare the phrasing of 1 Sam 8:5 and Deut 17:14), which puts severe restrictions on the traditional powers of ancient Near Eastern monarchy (not too many horses, not too many wives, not too much wealth). 40 Deuteronomic law grants Israel permission to have a king, however peculiar, and it imagines dynasty as possible. But nothing in the overarching narrative demonstrates that such kingship will succeed or that dynasty is, in fact, possible. 1 Sam 8:1–5 is a strongly aporetic moment in the discourse. Simultaneously looking back at Israel’s dynastic ideals and failures, and looking ahead to Saul and David and the dynastic successes and failures of the Israelite monarchy, it is “a moment when the strain in the text becomes unavoidably apparent.” 41 Deuteronomic law, the stories of Moses and Joshua, the transition to the cycles of judgeship, and the stories of the various judges themselves – each would frame understandings of 1 Sam 8:1–5 in Judean social remembering. 42 Various paths for leadership and for succession have been explored and tested up to this point in the narrative, and it seems that all meet the same end: failure of the leadership to follow Torah, and failure of the leadership to consistently inspire Torah obedience among the people. Now, the people request a king, as Deuteronomy projected they would, but the question is: How will it change anything? Kingship appears to be a new beginning, but it is, in effect, nothing new. The failure of dynasty (and thus kingship), then, is a fait accompli. 43 Consider, too, a passage earlier in the book of Samuel, the failure of Eli’s sons and Elide priesthood (1 Sam 2:12–36; cf. 4:1–11). Eli plays an important supporting role in Samuel’s story. His subplot in the Samuel narrative serves to reinforce 235 F

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should be indigenous; Cyrus, a foreigner who is somewhat Davidized, perhaps provides a mediating position in this discourse (see Wilson, “Yahweh’s Anointed”). See Green, How are the Mighty, 181. On the relationship between between 1 Sam 8 and Deuteronomic law, see, e.g., Knoppers, “Deuteronomist”; Levinson, “Reconceptualization”; and Nihan, “Rewriting Kingship.” Jobling, I Samuel, 14. On the king-law in Deuteronomy and its role in Judean memory, see Wilson, Kingship, 43–76. See also Ben Zvi (“Memories of Kings”), who discusses the teleology of failure as it relates to kings in the Deuteronomistic and prophetic books. He points out, though, that Chronicles is “not deeply teleological” in this regard, and so mitigates this perspective on monarchy.

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the points made above about the failures of dynasties, but it also introduces another key problem into the discourse: the issue of divine choices and promises. Scholarship tends to make light of Eli, who appears somewhat dim-witted (e.g., 1 Sam 1:13–14) and suffers a death that one might call darkly humorous (1 Sam 4:18). 44 The narrative, however, suggests that at one time Eli and his family had great potential. 1 Sam 2:30 offers a key revelation: “A declaration of Yhwh, God of Israel – Surely I had said your house and your father’s house would walk [‫ הלך‬Hithp.] before me forever [‫]עד עולם‬, but now – a declaration of Yhwh – far be it from me! for those who honor me I honor, and those who despise me are despicable.” 45

This changing of the divine mind is significant, since it overturns a dynastic promise meant to last “forever” (‫)עד עולם‬. 46 In the words of Ehud Ben Zvi, the text construes Yhwh as a deity for whom yesterday’s “forever” is not necessarily today’s or tomorrow’s “forever.” 47 After annulling this promise, Yhwh immediately makes another one (1 Sam 2:35), which draws on the same language. The deity states his intention to replace Eli with an “enduring” (‫ )נאמן‬priest for whom he will build an “enduring” (‫ )נאמן‬house – a priest who will “walk” (‫ הלך‬Hithp.) before Yhwh’s “anointed one” (‫)משיח‬. 44

45

46

47

E.g., Jobling (I Samuel, 51) calls him a “parody” of judgeship, and Geoffrey Miller (Ways of a King, 13, 220–22) calls him “hapless” and argues that Eli’s lack of a backstory is a kind of condemnation by the author. Perhaps, though, we should not be so hard on Eli. He is, after all, “very old” when he enters the picture (cf. 1 Sam 8:1; 1 Kgs 11:4), and, pace Miller, it is not surprising that we read nothing of Eli’s younger days, because Samuel is the primary focus of the narrative, not Eli. Gilmour (Representing, 56–62) presents a more balanced view, comparing and juxtaposing Eli’s character with that of Hannah. Yhwh has apparently changed his mind, contra Num 23:19 and 1 Sam 15:28. On divine promises and repentance, consult Sonnet, “God’s Repentance.” Sonnet, however, passes over the Eli text, which does not contain the verb ‫נחם‬, Sonnet’s central talking point. On God’s repenting, with particular focus on 1 Sam 15, see also Amit “Glory”; and Middleton, “Samuel,” 81–83. In a recent essay, legal scholar Geoffrey Miller (“Political Function”) outlines how divine revelation (including promises) functions as a “wild card” in the biblical narratives and how it nevertheless operates within certain discursive constraints. The identity of Eli’s ancestry, who received the promise, is not entirely clear in the discourse. Following Wellhausen, Frank Cross (Canaanite Myth, 195–98) suggested that Eli is meant to descend from Moses. See Leuchter (Samuel, 33), who posits a connection between 1 Sam 2:35 and Num 12:7. But perhaps a more obvious connection is with the eternal covenant made with Aaron’s grandson Phinehas (Num 25:10–13) – notice that one of Eli’s sons is also named Phinehas (Jobling, I Samuel, 53). One can make a case for linking Eli’s house with either Moses or Aaron. Cross, who maintains Wellhausen’s assertion that Eli’s ancestry is Mosaic/Mushite, states nevertheless, “It is quite impossible to separate this account [Num 25:6–15] from the story leading up to the rejection of the Elid (Mushite) priestly house in 1 Samuel 2:22–25” (Canaanite Myth, 202). These fuzzy links and disconnects between the Levitic houses of Moses and Aaron, and the related tensions between the various priestly genealogies, reflect another complex system of social remembering in postmonarchic Judah, a topic that would require a separate major study. Ben Zvi, “Balancing Act,” 117.

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This second promise would prefigure and frame Judean thinking about Yhwh’s promise to David, later in the book (2 Sam 7:16), which also guarantees a house that will “endure” (‫ אמן‬Niph.) “forever” (‫)עד עולם‬. Notice also, in 1 Sam 2:35, the promise of service before the “anointed one” (‫)משיח‬. Many scholars have interpreted this as a reference to the Zadokites’ role in Jerusalem, their service before the anointed David. 48 This is a valid reading of 1 Sam 2:35. In its immediate context, however, the promise clearly links up with Samuel, who in this very passage is juxtaposed with Eli’s failed sons, and who is reared in priestly service (1 Sam 2:18–21; 3:1). 49 Moreover, it is Samuel who eventually “anoints” (‫ )משח‬both Saul and David as Israelite kings (1 Sam 9:16; 10:1; 15:1, 17; 16:3, 12– 13). So at least on one level – probably the most obvious one – this new promise to Eli is meant for Samuel, not for some unnamed future priest. 50 But what to make of the new promise? Apparently, “forever” is not forever, as the fall of Eli’s house evinces. 51 As I showed above, the discourse tends to argue that dynastic failure is inevitable. Much more could be said here about promises, priests, messiahs, and so forth, but I want to refocus our discussion on the issue of Samuel’s failed sons and the elders’ request for a king in 1 Sam 8 – the remembering of monarchy’s beginnings, in ancient Judah’s discourse. The overarching narrative has already introduced dynastic succession, positively and negatively, kingly and pseudokingly, in Deuteronomy 17 and in Judges 8–9, respectively. The opening chapters of 1 Samuel then bring the issue of divinely promised dynasties into the discourse. The aporetic passage of 1 Sam 8:1–5 confirms the discourse’s suspicions about dynasty as it simultaneously reifies the dynastic institution of kingship in the land of Israel. It thus confounds expectations for divinely sanctioned dynasties. First, Eli’s divinely sanctioned priesthood is revoked, and then Samuel’s promising house becomes a failure. This is in addition to the repeated failures of non-hereditary leadership in Israel’s pre-monarchic story: the apostasy after Joshua’s death and the increasingly difficult cycles of appointed judges. The unsure nature of Yhwh’s promises and the repeated failures of succession in a variety of pre-monarchic political situations, as represented in the discourse, 246F

247 F

48 49 50 51

E.g., Bodner, 1 Samuel, 35; Steussy, David, 29–30. See Polzin, Samuel, 39–44; also Leuchter, Samuel, 33–34, who is sympathetic with the Zadokite interpretation, but ultimately agrees that the reference is to Samuel. See also 1 Sam 1:22. Hannah says Samuel will remain in Yhwh’s presence ‫עד עולם‬, a statement that looks forward to 1 Sam 2:30–36 and 2 Sam 7:14–16. See Polzin, Samuel, 29. Again, this has interesting implications for understandings of priesthood in Persian-era Judah, because the priesthood was understood to be ancestral. For a good overview of the texts and issues involved, consult Rehm, “Levites.” Notably, the Elide priesthood does not actually come to an end with Eli (cf. the Elide Abiathar, priest at Nob, who eventually serves alongside Zadok under David; see 1 Sam 22:11; 23:6; 30:7; 2 Sam 8:17; 15:24; 1 Kgs 2:27; etc.). The history of Zadokite priesthood, too, is a much debated issue (see Hunt, Missing Priests).

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would ultimately shape the remembering of monarchy’s foundations, for those reading the book in Judah’s postmonarchic era. 52 In the rest of the story, in the narratives of Saul and David and the divided monarchy, the successes and failures of kingship are overdetermined. 53 Why does Saul’s house fall while David’s succeeds? Is Yhwh’s promise to David eternal or not? And how then would one understand the historical fall of Judah and Davidic kingship? The narratives provide no clear answers to these sorts of questions. Moreover, Chronicles, with its curious inclusion of Saul’s death (1 Chr 10) and its Davidic focus, provides another narrative response to the institution of monarchy, further complicating the discourse in Judean antiquity. These discursive complications concerning the past, I have argued elsewhere, would find their match in the prophetic books’ discourse on the past and future. And it is the reciprocal relationship between monarchy’s past and future, in the Judean literature broadly conceived, that would have shaped social remembering of kingship among those Judeans composing, reading, and maintaining these texts in the early Second Temple period. 54 Samuel, with its overdetermined account of kingship’s beginnings in Israel, was central to this process.

4.

On Remembering Monarchy with and through Samuel

As far as we know, Judean literature of the early Second Temple era contained no other narrative account of Samuel’s early life, of the fall of Eli’s house, and of the failure of Samuel’s sons and the subsequent request for monarchy. Samuel’s back story, as recounted in 1 Samuel 1–8, would therefore serve as the primary narrative framework for the figure of Samuel in Judean social remembering. Any mention of Samuel would necessarily recall his origin story, for those intimately familiar with the literature. The brief glimpses of Samuel outside his eponymous book thus would not alter the overarching trajectory and telos of his narrative, but would instead provide perspectives that balance understandings of that narrative’s essential information. The genealogies of Chronicles, for example, list Samuel among the Levites (1 Chr 6:13, 18). Other texts, too, point to a Levitic connection: Jer 15:1, which associates him with Moses; and Ps 99:6, which groups him with Moses, Aaron, and Yhwh’s priests. Given this data, one could argue that Samuel’s primary role in the Judean literature is Levitical. 55 The Levitic ancestry in Chronicles is, how52 53 54 55

See Polzin, Samuel, 48. See Jobling, I Samuel, 99–100. See Wilson, Kingship, passim. As does Leuchter, Samuel, 22–40.

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ever, at odds with the genealogical information in 1 Sam 1:1, which is itself potentially confused, stating that Samuel’s ancestors are both from Ephraim and Ephratites (i.e., possibly originally from Judah, but not necessarily so). The information in Chronicles would not alter the course of Samuel’s story, but it would create tension in one’s knowledge of his character. 56 This confusing tension, I suggest, is correlate to Samuel’s liminal story, which bridges the gap between judgeship and kingship in Judean discourse. Samuel is a multivocal figure because he was central to Judean society’s complex remembering of and thinking about monarchy. His variety of ancestral backgrounds and the different political and social roles he plays are, in part, functions of the kingship discourse and the aporetic turn to monarchy in this narrative account of Israel’s past. Samuel is both a northerner and a southerner, the outspoken critic of kingship who also anoints and supports kings, eventually damning Saul while serving David. His origin story introduces him as an Ephraimite but holds out the possibility of distant Judahite connections. In the book of Samuel, then, we get a glimpse of how Judean readers would want it both ways, to criticize human monarchies and to lionize Davidic kingship, to remember the unfortunate failures of Israel’s Benjaminite ruler and to forget the tragic sins of its Judahite one. In the midst of it all stands Samuel himself. Mark Leuchter comments, “When one looks at the Gestalt of Samuel’s literary depiction, he is liminal, standing in the space between diverse theological and political polarities, yet engaging them at various turns in the narrative.” 57 As I hope to have shown above, no turn is sharper than the failure of Samuel’s sons and Israel’s subsequent and aporetic turn to kingship in 1 Sam 8:1–5. That final turn to monarchic rule, as represented in the larger passage of 1 Sam 8–12, is the narrative key to an entire complex of political thought and culture in Judah’s early Second Temple era. Samuel’s judicial failure and the people’s request for a king, the problems of dynastic rule and divine promises, the rivalry between judge-of-old and king-to-be, the explicit challenges of kingship’s legitimacy in the face of kingship’s establishment – each would overdetermine and confound any narrative expectations with regard to Israelite law and polity in the past. Deuteronomy allows for a kind of non-kingly king in Israel, even predicts the office’s institution, whereas Samuel proclaims that kings in that day and age are necessarily anti-Deuteronomic. 56

57

Moreover, although his actions in 1 Sam 1–8 are more judge-like than anything else, Samuel’s depiction in Chronicles is that of Levitical(/priestly) prophet (1 Chr 9:22; 11:3; 2 Chr 35:18). This balances and rounds out Samuel’s multifaceted character within the discourse. In the book of Samuel he acts mostly like a judge, even though he is introduced as priest and prophet. In Chronicles the priestly and prophetic roles come to the fore, and Samuel’s judgeship is forgotten or bracketed. According to the perspective advanced by Chronicles, Samuel’s role as judge is not worth remembering. He was, instead, a prominent priestly prophet who worked closely at David’s side (1 Chr 9:22). The priestly and prophetic focus in Chronicles would thus mitigate, to a certain extent, the downfall of Samuel’s judicial dynasty in the book of Samuel. Leuchter, Samuel, 6.

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The discursive possibilities inherent to the book of Samuel, however confounded they may be, are historical evidence for the culture that initially produced, received, and maintained the book as such. They speak to the issues that postmonarchic Judean readers would contemplate as they remembered their monarchic past. And to me they suggest that Judeans were in the thick of it. They were navigating the very issues of monarchy that Graeber and Sahlins have identified as fundamental aspects of kingly rule – what is the relationship between kingship and divinity, between kings and other sociopolitical roles, between foreign and indigenous kingly power, and so on? The multivocal and overdetermined nature of the book of Samuel (and other Judean literary artifacts) evinces the overdetermined nature of the conversation among Judeans themselves, in the early Second Temple era. As part of a corpus of texts about the monarchic past, Samuel resisted providing any one response to the question of monarchy and its ongoing import, because Judean society itself did not have a single take on this issue.

Bibliography Adam, Klaus-Peter. “What Made the Books of Samuel Authoritative in the Discourses of the Persian Period? Reflections on the Legal Discourse in 2 Samuel 14.” Pages 159–86 in Deuteronomy–Kings as Emerging Authoritative Books: A Conversation. Edited by Diana V. Edelman. SBLANEM 6. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2014. Amit, Yairah. “The Book of Judges: Dating and Meaning.” Pages 297–320 in Homeland and Exile: Biblical and Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Honour of Bustenay Oded. Edited by Gershon Galil, Markham J. Gellar, and A. R. Millard. VTSup 130. Leiden: Brill, 2009. ________. “‘The Glory of Israel Does Not Deceive or Change His Mind’: On the Reliability of Narrators and Speakers in Biblical Narrative.” Prooftexts 12 (1992): 201–12. Baden, Joel. The Historical David: The Real Life of an Invented Hero. New York: HarperOne, 2013. Ben Zvi, Ehud. “A Balancing Act: Settling and Unsettling Issues Concerning Past Divine Promises in Historiographical Texts Shaping Social Memory in the Late Persian Period.” Pages 109–29 in Covenant in the Persian Period: From Genesis to Chronicles. Edited by R. J. Bautch and Gary N. Knoppers. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015. ________. “Memories of Kings in Israel and Judah within the Mnemonic Landscape of the Late Persian/Early Hellenistic Period: Exploratory Considerations.” SJOT 33 (2019): 1–15. Bloch, Maurice. Anthropology and the Cognitive Challenge. New Departures in Anthropology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012. ________. How We Think They Think: Anthropological Approaches to Cognition, Memory, and Literacy. Boulder, CO: Westview, 1998. Bodner, Keith. 1 Samuel: A Narrative Commentary. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2008. Bolin, Thomas M. “1–2 Samuel and Jewish Paideia in the Persian and Hellenistic Periods.” Pages 133– 58 in Deuteronomy–Kings as Emerging Authoritative Books: A Conversation. Edited by Diana V. Edelman. SBLANEM 6. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2014. Brettler, Marc Zvi. The Book of Judges. London: Routledge, 2002. Carr, David M. The Formation of the Hebrew Bible: A New Reconstruction. New York: Oxford University Press, 2011.

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Cross, Frank Moore. Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic: Essays in the History of the Religion of Israel. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973. Dietrich, Walter. The Early Monarchy in Israel: The Tenth Century B.C.E. Translated by Joachim Vette. SBL Biblical Encyclopedia 3. Atlanta: SBL Press, 2007 (German original 1997). ________. “History and Law: Deuteronomistic Historiography and Deuteronomic Law Exemplified in the Passage from the Period of the Judges to the Monarchical Period.” Pages 315–42 in Israel Constructs Its History. Edited by Albert de Pury, Thomas Römer, and Jean-Daniel Macchi. JSOTSup 306. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2000. ________. “The Layer Model of the Deuteronomistic History and the Book of Samuel.” Pages 39–65 in Is Samuel among the Deuteronomists? Current Views on the Place of Samuel in a Deuteronomistic History. Edited by Cynthia Edenburg and Juha Pakkala. SBLAIL 16. Atlanta: SBL Press, 2013. Edelman, Diana V. “Of Priests and Prophets and Interpreting the Past: The Egyptian ḥm-nṯr and ḫryḥbt and the Judahite nāḇȋʾ.” Pages 103–12 in The Historian and the Bible: Essays in Honour of Lester L. Grabbe. Edited by Philip R. Davies and Diana V. Edelman. LHBOTS 530. New York: T&T Clark, 2010. Gilmour, Rachelle. Representing the Past: A Literary Analysis of Narrative Historiography in the Book of Samuel. VTSup 143. Leiden: Brill, 2011. ________. “Who Captured Jerusalem? Reading Historiography and/or Collective Memory in Samuel.” Pages 63–82 in The Books of Samuel: Stories – History – Reception History. Edited by Walter Dietrich, in cooperation with Cynthia Edenburg and Philippe Hugo. BETL 284. Leuven: Peeters, 2016. Grabbe, Lester L. “The Mighty Men of Israel: 1–2 Samuel and Historicity.” Pages 83–104 in The Books of Samuel: Stories – History – Reception History. Edited by Walter Dietrich, in cooperation with Cynthia Edenburg and Philippe Hugo. BETL 284. Leuven: Peeters, 2016. Graeber, David, and Marshall Sahlins. On Kings. Chicago: Hau Books, 2017. Green, Barbara. How Are the Mighty Fallen? A Dialogical Study of King Saul in 1 Samuel. JSOTSup 365. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003. Halpern, Baruch. David’s Secret Demons: Messiah, Murderer, Traitor, King. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2001. Hunt, Alice. Missing Priests: The Zadokites in History and Tradition. LHBOTS 452. New York: T&T Clark, 2006. Hutton, Jeremy M. The Transjordanian Palimpsest: The Overwritten Texts of Personal Exile and Transformation in the Deuteronomistic History. BZAW 396. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2009. Jobling, David. I Samuel. Berit Olam. Collegeville, MN: Liturgical, 1998. Knoppers, Gary N. “The Deuteronomist and the Deuteronomic Law of the King: A Reexamination of a Relationship.” ZAW 108 (1996): 329–46. Kratz, Reinhard G. The Composition of the Narrative Books of the Old Testament. Translated by John Bowden. London: T&T Clark, 2005 (German original 2000). Leuchter, Mark. “Jeroboam the Ephratite.” JBL 125 (2006): 51–72. ________. Samuel and the Shaping of Tradition. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013. Levinson, Bernard M. “The Reconceptualization of Kingship in Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic History’s Transformation of Torah.” VT 51 (2001): 511–34. Liverani, Mario. “Memorandum on the Approach to Historiographic Texts.” Orientalia 42 (1973): 178– 94. Middleton, J. Richard. “Samuel Agonistes: A Conflicted Prophet’s Resistance to God and Contribution to the Failure of Israel’s First King.” Pages 69–91 in Prophets, Prophecy, and Ancient Israelite Historiography. Edited by Mark J. Boda and Lissa M. Wray Beal. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2013. Miller, Geoffrey P. “The Political Function of Revelation: Lessons from the Hebrew Bible.” Touro Law Review 30 (2014): 77–101. ________. The Ways of a King: Legal and Political Ideas in the Bible. JAJSup 7. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2011. Milstein, Sara J. Tracking the Master Scribe: Revision through Introduction in Biblical and Mesopotamian Literature. New York: Oxford University Press, 2016. Momigliano, Arnaldo. Essays on Ancient and Modern Judaism. Edited with an Introduction by Silvia Berti. Translated by Maura Masella-Gayley. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994.

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Müller, Reinhard. Königtum und Gottesherrschaft: Untersuchungen zur alttestamentlichen Monarchiekritik. FAT 2.3. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004. Nihan, Christophe. “Rewriting Kingship in Samuel: 1 Samuel 8 and 12 and the Law of the King (Deuteronomy 17).” HeBAI 2 (2013): 315–50. Pioske, Daniel D. Memory in a Time of Prose: Studies in Hebrew Scribalism, Epistemology, and the Biblical Past. New York: Oxford University Press, 2018. ________. “Retracing a Remembered Past: Methodological Remarks on Memory, History, and the Hebrew Bible.” BibInt 23 (2015): 291–315. Polak, Frank H. “Conceptions of the Past and Sociocultural Grounding in the Books of Samuel.” Pages 117–32 in History, Memory, Hebrew Scriptures: A Festschrift for Ehud Ben Zvi. Edited by Ian D. Wilson and Diana V. Edelman. University Park, PA: Penn State University Press/Eisenbrauns, 2015. Polzin, Robert. Samuel and the Deuteronomist: A Literary Study of the Deuteronomistic History, part 2, 1 Samuel. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1989. Rehm, Merlin D. “Levites and Priesthood.” Pages 297–310 in vol. 4 of Anchor Bible Dictionary. Edited by David Noel Freedman. 6 volumes. New York: Doubleday, 1992. Sahlins, Marshall. Apologies to Thucydides: Understanding History as Culture and Vice Versa. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004. ________. Culture in Practice: Selected Essays. New York: Zone Books, 2000. Schmid, Konrad. The Old Testament: A Literary History. Translated by Linda M. Maloney. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012 (German original 2008). Sonnet, Jean-Pierre. “God’s Repentance and ‘False Starts’ in Biblical History (Genesis 6–9; Exodus 32– 34; 1 Samuel 15 and 2 Samuel 7).” Pages 469–94 in Congress Volume Ljubljana 2007. Edited by André Lemaire. VTSup 133. Leiden: Brill, 2010. Steussy, Marti J. David: Biblical Portraits of Power. Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press, 1999. Tobolowsky, Andrew. “Israelite and Judahite History in Contemporary Theoretical Approaches.” CBR 17 (2018): 33–58. von Rad, Gerhard. The Problem of the Hexateuch: And Other Essays. Translated by E. W. Trueman Dicken. London: Oliver & Boyd, 1966. Wellhausen, Julius. Prolegomena to the History of Israel. Edinburgh: Black, 1885 (German original 1883). Reprint, Cleveland: Meridian, 1957. Wilson, Ian D. History and the Hebrew Bible: Culture, Narrative, and Memory. Brill Research Perspectives in Biblical Interpretation 3.2. Leiden: Brill, 2018. ________. Kingship and Memory in Ancient Judah. New York: Oxford University Press, 2017. ________. “Yahweh’s Anointed: Cyrus, Deuteronomy’s Law of the King, and Yehudite Identity.” Pages 325–61 in Political Memory in and after the Persian Empire. Edited by Jason M. Silverman and Caroline Waerzeggers. SBLANEM 13. Atlanta: SBL Press, 2015. Zimran, Yisca. “Divine vs. Human Authority in the Books of Samuel.” Pages 403–12 in The Books of Samuel: Stories – History – Reception History. Edited by Walter Dietrich, in cooperation with Cynthia Edenburg and Philippe Hugo. BETL 284. Leuven: Peeters, 2016.

Tribal Contentions for the Throne: A Culturally Enthused Suspicious Reading of 1 Samuel 1–8 Hulisani Ramantswana

Summary The received form of the biblical text (1 Samuel) invites suspicion through textual features which reflect intersecting biases embedded therein. This study utilizes two cultural sayings from the Vhavenḓa people to interrogate the biblical text: One states, Vhuhosi vhu tou bebelwa (“You are born to be king”), and another states, Vhuhosi vhu naka u tou lwelwa, ha sa lwelwa ndi muḽano (“Kingship is better fought for; if not, it spells disaster”). These sayings highlight the politics of power and the different routes that can be taken to legitimise one’s attainment of power among the Vhavenḓa people. Therefore, this study engages in a culturally enthused hermeneutic of suspicion considering the textual biases pointing to tribal contentions at the dawn of the monarchy. The royal contentions exist between four tribes: the tribes of Levi (represented by Eli), Ephraim (represented by Samuel), Benjamin (represented by Saul), and Judah (represented by David). Thus, within the broader literary context of 1 Samuel, chapters 1–8 exhibit strategies of legitimation and delegitimation in these tribes’ contention for the royal throne. Die überlieferte Form des 1. Samuelbuches enthält Textmerkmale mit sich überschneidenden Vorurteilen, die Verdacht erregen sollten. Diese Studie verwendet zwei traditionelle Sprichwörter aus dem Volk der Vhavenḓa, um den biblischen Text zu befragen. Das eine besagt: Vhuhosi vhu tou bebelwa („Du bist geboren, um König zu sein“), das andere: Vhuhosi vhu naka u tou lwelwa, ha sa lwelwa ndi muḽano („Königtum wird besser erkämpft; wenn nicht, bedeutet es Unheil“). Diese Sprichwörter verdeutlichen die Politik der Macht und die verschiedenen Wege, die man beschreiten kann, um seine Machterlangung unter den Vhavenḓa zu legitimieren. Daher verfolgt diese Studie eine kulturell geprägte Hermeneutik des Verdachts angesichts der textlichen Vorurteile, die auf Stammesstreitigkeiten zu Beginn der Monarchie hinweisen. Die Auseinandersetzungen um das Königtum bestehen zwischen vier Stämmen: den Stämmen Levi (vertreten durch Eli), Ephraim (vertreten durch Samuel), Benjamin (vertreten durch Saul) und Juda (vertreten durch David). Innerhalb des breiteren literarischen Kontextes von 1 Samuel zeigen die Kapitel 1–8 Strategien der Legitimation und Delegitimation im Kampf dieser Stämme um den Königsthron.

1.

Introduction

The choice of 1 Samuel 1–8 in this study is a functional one and does not necessarily imply that this section should be viewed as a self-contained unit with no

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links backwards or forwards. 1 However, 1 Samuel 8 does signify a terminus ad quem in that the elders of Israel request that Samuel “appoint a king to judge [them], such as all the other nations have,” an act that signifies the coming to an end of an era – the era of the judges (‫)שֹׁ פְ ִטים‬. The received form of 1 Samuel is commonly regarded as a composition of the Deuteronomistic Historian, who made use of existing materials (oral and textual) at his disposal. The textual layers or narrative collections identified running through 1 Samuel 1–8 include Samuel’s birth narrative (1 Sam 1–4:1a), 2 the Ark narrative (1 Sam 4:1b–7:1), 3 and the Samuel-Saul complex (1 Sam 7–12 or 7–15). 4 Others, however, highlight the fact that 1 Samuel 1–7 is intertextually linked to the book of Judges, thereby pointing to the value of reading 1 Samuel 1–8 backwards as a continuation of the themes and motifs in Judges. 5 In his recent commentary on Judges, Frolov treats 1 Samuel 1–7 as a continuation of the canonical book of Judges: “Judges 13 – 1 Samuel 7 is a literary unit […] accordingly, the sequence of the apostasyoppression-repentance-deliverance cycles launched by Judges 13 stretches through 1 Samuel 7.” 6 Others, however, tend to regard 1 Samuel 1–8 as part of a complex unit ending in chapter 12 or chapter 15. 7 For Campbell, the books of Samuel revolve around the figure of David, and therefore, he regards 1 Samuel 1:1–16:13 as the preparation for the emergence of David as king. The received form of the biblical text of 1 Samuel invites suspicion through textual features which reflect intersecting biases embedded therein. This paper will argue that these biases point to tribal contentions at the dawn of the mon1

2

3 4

5 6 7

From a synchronic perspective, the transition from the era of judges to the era of kings happens when a new king is installed in 1 Samuel 10. Avioz has recently discussed the challenges surrounding the structure of the books of Samuel. See Avioz, “The Literary Structure of the Books of Samuel.” The narrative of Samuel’s birth and youth shares motifs with the birth stories of other famous personalities such as Moses (Exod 2) and Samson (Judg 13). See among others Dietrich, The Early Monarchy in Israel: The Tenth Century B.C.E., 254; Willis, “Cultic Elements in the Story of Samuel’s Birth and Dedication”; Brettler, “The Composition of 1 Samuel 1–2.” However, a feminist perspective sees 1 Samuel 1–3 not as a mere birth narrative, but as a Hannah-centred narrative which shares features with other stories of barren women (cf. Sarai, Rebekah, Rachel, Samson’s mother). See Meyers, “The Hannah Narrative in Feminist Perspective”; Callaway, Sing, O Barren One: A Study in Comparative Midrash, 35–57; Fuchs, “The Literary Characterization of Mothers and Sexual Politics in the Hebrew Bible.” See Campbell, The Ark Narrative; Davies, “The History of the Ark in the Books of Samuel”; Gutmann, “The History of the Ark”. This literary unit particularly deals with the establishment of Israel’s monarchy, demonstrating that various older traditions may be discerned in this complex. On the literary division of 1 Sam 7–15, see Birch, The Rise of the Israelite Monarchy; Hertzberg, I & II Samuel; Dietrich, “Die Samuelbücher”; Cartledge, 1 & 2 Samuel. On the division of 1 Sam 7–12, see Weiser, Samuel: Seine geschichtliche Aufgabe und religiöse Bedeutung; Eslinger, Kingship of God in Crisis: A Close Reading of 1 Samuel 1–12; Wénin, Samuel et l’instauration de la monarchie (1 S 1–12); Fokkelman, Narrative Art and Poetry in the Books of Samuel. Jobling, 1 Samuel. Also see Frolov, Judges. Frolov, Judges, 19. See footnote 4 above.

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archy. The goal of adopting a hermeneutic of suspicion is not to retrieve the authorial intention or the dominant ideology underlying the text but to “read the text against grain” or to “read backwards” in order to arrive at other potential interpretations. My own hermeneutic of suspicion is informed by my cultural context, that of the Vhavenḓa people in South Africa, in which the system of kingship still applies. In this system, we have the thovhele / khosikhulu (king) of the Vhavenḓa people, then mahosi (chiefs), who are below the king, rulers of their designated areas. In the Vhavenḓa culture there are two contradictory sayings, reflecting different ideological stances that may be adopted to justify oneself in taking over the throne. One states, “Vhuhosi vhu tou bebelwa (You are born to be king),” 8 and another states, “Vhuhosi vhu naka u tou lwelwa, ha sa lwelwa ndi muḽano (Kingship is better fought for; if not, it spells disaster).” The two sayings highlight the politics of power and the different routes that can be taken to legitimise one’s attainment of power among the Vhavenḓa people.

2.

Born a Leader or Destined to Lead: Samuel’s Birth Narrative and Tribal Contentions for Judgeship or Kingship

It matters how one comes to assume a position of power in a context where dynastic rule is the order. In the Vhavenḓa culture, kingship and chieftaincy mainly follow the patrilineal line; however, this does not preclude the possibility of females assuming the position of king or chief. Within the royal family the appointment of an heir to the throne is a secretive process which would only be known by those in the inner circle within the king or chief’s family. However, the process is often accompanied by contentions and battles, as often times there are multiple contenders for the throne, all of whom might consider themselves worthy of inheriting the kingdom. Because of the practice of polygamy, a king or chief will often times have many children from different zwiṱanga (literally “huts”). In this system, the status of the children would correspond to the status of their mothers). When there are contentions, the possibility of being killed in subtle or secretive ways is very high. In the Vhavenḓa culture, this kind of death is referred to as u miliswa tshivhindi (literally rendered “you are made to swallow the liver”, which means you are killed). However, in such instances it is often hard to prove who was responsible for the killing. Therefore, it is necessary to legitimise oneself when one attains a position of power. In instances where the rightful heir is still too young to assume the throne, the regent who is called upon to stand-in for the heir may not want to relinquish power when the time 8

In this view, the position of king can be assumed only by one who has the birthright.

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comes for the rightful heir to assume the throne. Furthermore, in contexts where the kingdom or chieftaincy is contested, it is not uncommon to find that there is a side which claims the position through a birth-right and which correspondingly uses the saying vhuhosi vhu tou bebelwa (“you are born to be king”). The employment of this traditional saying asserts that those who do not have the birth-right have no justifiable claim to the position of kingship/chieftancy. The saying vhuhosi vhu tou bebelwa also has a sense of ambiguity to it as well, and can be used to make claims to authority that do not result from birth-right. It does so by implying that holding the kingship is a destiny that calls someone from birth, that is, being king is something for which one is destined. Therefore, in this sense birth-right is not necessarily a precondition for authority. Rather, what matters is that the official receives what is believed to have been destined from the onset. 9 While the saying vhuhosi vhu tou bebelwa is linguistically distant from the biblical text, it does provide a lens through which we might view the relationship between Eli and Samuel and the culture surrounding that relationship. The saying vhuhosi vhu tou bebelwa invites its audience to apply a hermeneutic of suspicion. Those among whom the saying is used must not simply consider the linguistic ambiguity of the statement itself, but also the resultant situational ambiguity that arises in contexts where the saying is used to legitimise claimants to power.

2.1

Samuel’s Birth Narrative (1 Samuel 1–2) within the framework of contention for power

1 Samuel opens with a birth narrative of Samuel. The opening sentence links this book with the book of Judges, particularly Judges 17–21, where we find two narratives with similar openings focused on people who lived in “the hill country of Ephraim” (‫הַ ר אֶ פְ ָריִם‬, or Mount Ephraim): Judg 17:1 There was a man in the hill country of Ephraim whose name was Micah.

Judg 19:1b A certain Levite, residing in the remote parts of the hill country of Ephraim, took to himself a concubine from Bethlehem in Judah.

1 Sam 1:1 There was a certain man of Ramathaim, a Zuphite from the hill country of Ephraim, whose name was Elkanah son of Jeroham son of Elihu son of Tohu son of Zuph, an Ephraimite.

Some scholars consider the story of Micah (Judg 17:1–18:31) and “a certain Levite” (Judg 19:1–21:25) to stem from separate sources or editorial activity from

9

In this case the claim is not about a special type of birth or birth under special circumstances, as in the case of biblical figures such as Joseph, Moses, Samson and Samuel.

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those in the earlier chapters of the Deuteronomistic book of Judges. 10 However, the hill country of Ephraim also features prominently in earlier chapters as well: It is there where Joshua is buried (Judg 2:8–9); it is from there that the judge Ehud (a left-handed Benjamite) led the Israelites against Moab (Judg 3:27); Deborah, the prophetess-judge held her court between Ramah and Bethel in the hill country of Ephraim (Judg 4:5); the judge Tola (a man of Issachar) lived in Shamir, in the hill country of Ephraim (Judg 10:1); and the judge Gideon calls upon those in the hill country of Ephraim to help in the pursuit of the Midianites (Judg 7:2–5). In addition, there are cycles of stories that involve the tribe of Ephraim or its territorial allotment: One deals with the Ephraimites’ complaints about not being called to help in the battle against the Midianites under the judgeship of Gideon (Judg 8:1–3). Another focuses on their exclusion from the battle against the Ammonites under the judgeship of Jephthah (Judg 12:1–6). Thus, in the context of a synchronic reading taking Judges as its entry-point, the birth narrative of Samuel once again trains the audience’s focus on the hill country of Ephraim – an area which produced most of the judges – as the birthplace of the last judge of Israel. 11 The two stories in Judges revolving around residents of the hill country of Ephraim not only have to do with the Rachel tribes, but also the tribe of Levi. In the Micah story (Judg 17:1–18:31), Micah employs a wandering Levite from Bethlehem in Judah as his priest. The story goes on to highlight the service of the Mushite priests who were based within the tribe of Dan. In the story of a certain Levite and his concubine (Judg 19:1–21:25), the unnamed Levite is a resident in the hill country of Ephraim. Thus, although these narratives are mainly about the politics of the Rachel tribes, the tribe of Levi also features prominently. Some scholars regard Judges 17–21 to have been added during the exilic or postexilic period as an appendix to a Deuteronomistic book of Judges. 12 However, the activities of the Levites at high places in the rural and remote areas is taken by others as indication of pre-exilic activities of the Mushites who operated in the Northern Kingdom of Israel and in the high places around Judah, in contrast to the Zadokite priests whose activities were centred in Jerusalem. 13 For Yee, Judges 17–21 somewhat subverts the Josianic attempts to centralize cultic

10 11 12

13

See Edenburg, Dismembering the Whole, 3. It is likely that most of the stories in Judges had to do with the politics of the Joseph tribes or, a bit more broadly, the Rachel tribes. See Noth, Das System der zwölf Stämme Israel, 168; The Deuteronomistic History, 77; Gray, Joshua, Judges and Ruth; O’Brien, The Deuteronomistic History Hypothesis; Becker, Richterzeit und Königtum; Römer and Pury, “Deuteronomistic Historiography (DH): History of Research and Debated Issues”. See Claburn, “Fiscal Basis of Josiah’s Reforms,” 17–21; Nakanose, Josiah’s Passover: Sociology and the Liberating Bible, 59–60, 62–65; Yee, “Ideological Criticism: Judges 17–21 and the Dismembered Body”.

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services in Jerusalem and highlights the priestly rivalry between the Mushites and the Zadokites. 14 Within 1 Samuel 1–8, the name Ephraim is used in most instances as a territorial designation, “the hill country of Ephraim” (1 Sam 1:1; 9:4; 14:22), and things pretty much revolve around this territory and the territory of Benjamin. The towns or villages mentioned here are Shiloh (1 Sam 1:3, 24), Ramah (1 Sam 1:19; 2:11), and Beth Shemesh (1 Sam 6:12–16, 19–20). The cliché “Dan to Beersheba,” which is used in 1 Sam 3:20 (cf. Judg 20:1; 2 Sam 3:10; 17:11; 24:2, 15; 1 Kgs 5:5; 1 Chr 21:2; 2 Chr 30:5) should be viewed not as an expression of the reality on the ground, but as the ideal of the Deuteronomistic Historian, considering the way that Samuel is projected as an ideal character. 15

2.2

Eli-Samuel/Levi-Ephraim

From the standpoint of the received text, the position of judge (‫ )שׁפט‬was, prior to the introduction of the monarchy, the highest among tribes. The text’s view of the position of judge may have been based on an ad hoc role of authority in Israel’s tribal system, but has likely been shaped over time by the biblical authors into an official position. As Dietrich notes: The Deuteronomistic book of Judges uses this term both for the leaders who judged Israel for a number of years as a matter of domestic politics and for heroes who liberated Israel from external enemies (such as Ehud, Gideon, etc.). The Deuteronomistic Historian combines these functions and offices and depicts those who hold these offices as leaders of Israel prior to the establishment of the state. 16

The birth narrative of Samuel, an Ephraimite, is set in the context of the judgeship of the priest Eli. Eli is not presented as a hero, but he is a priest and an official leader or ruler – in other words, a judge – operating from the sanctuary in Shiloh, which is in the hill country of Ephraim. The ancestry of Eli the priest is not specifically mentioned. Was he a Levitical priest? The narrative does not give a definite answer. However, there is reference to the “house of your father,” which was given the promise of the priesthood from the time when the Israelites were in Egypt (1 Sam 2:27–36). As some scholars suggest, 1 Sam 2:27–36 is likely a later addition into the Samuel narrative. 17 However, the indication from the 14 15 16 17

Yee, “Ideological Criticism,” 151. Noll, Canaan and Israel in Antiquity, 287. Dietrich, The Early Monarchy in Israel, 12–13. For some, this text was an addition by the Deuteronomistic Historian in order to align the Samuel narrative with the agenda of the centralization of the cult (see McCarter, 1 Samuel, 92; Brettler, “The Composition of 1 Samuel 1–2,” 665; Willis, “An Anti-Elide Narrative Tradition from a Prophetic Circle at the Ramah Sanctuary,” 288 n. 3). However, others regard 1 Sam 2:27– 36 as a post-Deuteronomistic text, which does not necessarily support the Deuteronomistic

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text is that Eli’s ancestry should be associated with the Levitical priesthood, either linked to the Mushites or to Aaron. 18 When Eli first appears in the scene, he is presented as sitting on his “seat” (‫ )כִּ סֵּ א‬at the entrance of the temple of YHWH. There are different opinions regarding this “seat”. Some regard it as just an ordinary piece of furniture, 19 but I am more inclined to follow Polzin and take the references to the “seat” of Eli as a “royal seat”. 20 In Eli, unlike any of the previous judges, we find the link between the temple of YHWH (‫ )הֵ יכַל יְהוָה‬and a royal role. In this case, the priest is also a judge operating from a royal sanctuary. However, considering the Deuteronomistic book of Judges, it is noteworthy that Eli as a judge does not receive an introduction of his own – no setting is provided as to how Eli emerged as Israel’s judge. Therefore, Eli’s period as judge becomes the setting for the emergence of Israel’s last judge, Samuel. That 1 Samuel begins with a birth narrative causes the reader to expect a dramatic turnaround. 21 This is particularly so, considering the motif of the barren wife, which appears in Genesis (Sarai, the wife of Abram, Gen 11:30; Rebekah, the wife of Isaac, Gen 25:21; Rachel, the wife of Jacob, Gen 29:31) and in Judges (the unnamed wife of Manoah, Judg 13:2). However, it remains unclear to the reader what effects this dramatic turnaround will bring about. 1 Sam 1:1–3 does not provide any insight into the broader political setting. Instead, on the one hand, this prologue highlights the internal family challenges relating to Hannah’s barrenness in a polygamous relationship and, on the other hand, it introduces a religious dimension by indicating that Hophni and Phineas, sons of Eli, were functioning as priests at the central sanctuary at Shiloh. I concur with Frolov’s observation that since the setting in the broader political spectrum is not provided, we can only deduce from silence that there was another forty-year period of Philistine oppression (cf. Judg 13:1). 22 However, if so, that would be a setting for the reigning judge, Eli, not Samuel. As I will argue, the birth narrative has succession overtones to it. Accordingly, the Vhavenḓa saying vhuhosi vhu tou bebelwa is helpful in providing us with a lens here. The religious setting provided in 1 Sam 1:3 presumes a dynastic priesthood at work – the sons of Eli, Hophni and Phineas, are presented as functioning as priests at the sanctuary in Shiloh. The ideal of dynastic priesthood demanded

18

19 20 21 22

themes (Hutzli, “The Distinctiveness of the Samuel Narrative,” 171–205; Frolov, “Man of God and the Deuteronomist: Anti-Deuteronomistic Polemics in 1 Sam 2,27–36,” 58–76). For those who link Eli’s ancestry with Moses and the Mushites, see Cross, Canaanite Myth and the Hebrew Epic, 195–202; McCarter, 1 Samuel, 91–93. For those who link Eli’s ancestry with Aaron, see Jobling, 1 Samuel, 53; Leuchter, Samuel and the Shaping of Tradition, 33. Those who regard the seat as just an ordinary piece of furniture includes Klein, 1 Samuel, 1, 37; McCarter, 1 Samuel, 49, 110. Polzin, Samuel and the Deuteronomist, 23, 61, 64. Spina, while he agrees that the “seat” is more than an ordinary piece of furniture, does not regard it as a “royal seat” (Spina, Eli’s Seat, 101). See Rendtorff, Canon and Theology, 136–139. Frolov, The Turn of the Cycle, 80.

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that ancestral succession from one generation to another, or a patrilineal succession from father to son, was the proper order of succession. Accordingly, not everyone could simply assume such an office or role, but instead was qualified for such a role by membership in a particular family or tribe. The narrative seems to suggest that Eli would have appointed his sons as his successors to the role of “judge” in what would have been an attempt to establish his own priestlyroyal/judge dynasty. 23 The presence of Hophni and Phineas in the battle with the “ark of the covenant” probably reflects the judgeship role which they had begun to assume (1 Sam 4:4). The two sons, Hophni and Phineas, therefore, assume the role of leadership as something hereditary; therefore, they were born leaders, so to speak. Theirs was leadership through lineage on the basis of a divine promise to Eli’s house, and by virtue of the fact that Eli was already functioning as both priest and judge. Accordingly, the sons take up the role of the father while the father is still alive; the assumption of the role does not wait for the father to perish. Therefore, in a sense, dynastic judgeship was taking the form of a dynastic priesthood that could extend to multiple children rather than simply one child. Thus, Hophni and Phineas are both priests and, by extension, also judges, with both roles accessed through lineage. The Samuel birth narrative is itself the beginning of a reversal. It is the birth of Samuel that would bring about a challenge to the Elide dynasty. Samuel is an outsider by birth – an Ephraimite – who becomes an insider through the assumption of the priesthood role. However, before proceeding with this argument, some remarks would be in order regarding how the birth of Samuel came about. Hannah, one of the two wives of Elkanah, an Ephraimite from Ramah, had the misfortune of not having children due to divine sanction – “the Lord had closed her womb” (1 Sam 1:5b). Hannah experienced suffering, not only from Penninah’s provocations, but also from a husband who was insensitive at best and arrogant at worst, regarding his presence in her life as worth more than ten sons (1 Sam 1:8). As Amit argues, the actions of Hannah distancing herself from the family ceremony and her persistence with the desire to have a seed/child should be viewed as an act of resistance and protest. 24 In her misfortune, Hannah vowed to YHWH as follows: She made this vow: “O Lord of hosts, if only you will look on the misery of your servant, and remember me, and not forget your servant, but will give to your servant a male child, then I will set him before you as a nazirite until the day of his death. He shall drink neither wine nor intoxicants, and no razor shall touch his head.” (1Sam 1:11, NRSV)

Hannah’s request is not merely for any “seed” (‫ )ז ֶַרע‬which can be male or female, but specifically ‫ז ֶַרע ֲאנ ִָשׁים‬, which, although it may be translated generally as “seed 23 24

As Auld notes, “The hereditary principle was already alive in Israel, but not well” (Auld, I & II Samuel: A Commentary, 90). Amit, “Am I Not Devoted to You Than Ten Sons? (1 Samuel 1:8): Male and Female Interpretations,” 75.

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of humans,” should be rendered with specificity as “seed of men” or “male seed” or “man child” (KJV) or “male child” (NRSV) or simply “a son” (NIV, RSV, NLT). 25 The son that Hannah so much wanted to alleviate the provocation and humiliation is also a son that she is willing to give up to service as a nazirite. As Hannah pleads for a son from YHWH, Eli closely observes and engages her; however, little does he know that the vow of Hannah indirectly involves him. The son will eventually be Eli’s to raise at the sanctuary, as she is going to give him back to YHWH (1 Sam 1:25–28). The birth of Samuel thus stands as the birth of one who will replace Hophni and Phineas, both of whom have been introduced at the beginning of the prologue. Although Samuel is not specifically called a priest (‫)כהן‬, he becomes a protégé of Eli the priest trained in priestly activities: 1 Sam 2:8: “Samuel was ministering before the Lord (‫)משָׁ ֵרת אֶ ת־פְּ נֵי יְהוָה‬, ְ a boy girded with a linen ephod.” 1 Sam 2:11b: “[…] and the boy ministered to the Lord (‫)משָׁ ֵרת אֶ ת־יְ הוָה‬, ְ in the presence of Eli the priest (‫)הַ כֹּהֵ ן‬.” 1 Sam 3:1a: “Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord (‫)משָׁ ֵרת אֶ ת־יְהוָה‬ ְ under Eli.”

These three texts regarding the boy Samuel, as Auld notes, “relate to each other, and possibly modify each other, it is clear that each represents his ‘service’ as priestly, whether he is held to be serving Yahweh directly, or only in relation to the service of Eli the priest.” 26 Furthermore, when Samuel is grown up, he performs priestly activities, such as offering sacrifices (1 Sam 7:9–10; 9:12–13; 10:8; 16:5). It should be noted that in 1 Chr 6:1–31 Samuel appears in the genealogical list of Levi. 27 However, Samuel does not carry such an identity in 1 Samuel – there, he is an outsider from the tribe of Levi. 1 Sam 2:12–17 negatively portrays the sons of Eli, Hophni and Phineas, and there is no mincing of words in their description: Verse 12: “Now the sons of Eli were scoundrels (‫ ;) ְבּנֵי ְבלִ ָיּﬠַל‬they did not know the Lord.” Verse 17: “Thus the sin of the young men was very great in the sight of the Lord; for the men treated the offering of the Lord with contempt (‫)כִּ י נִ אֲצוּ הָ ֲאנ ִָשׁים אֵ ת ִמנְ חַ ת יְ הוָה‬.”

These two verses have backward and forward linkages. Backwards, the term ‫ בְּ לִ ָיּﬠַל‬is used to describe the men of Gibeah who raped the concubine of a Levite who had gone to get her from her hometown in Bethlehem (Judg 19:22; 20:13), and forward, the term is used to describe those who refused to accept Saul as 25

26 27

For further discussion on why Hannah asked specifically for “seed of men”, see Carasik, “Why Did Hannah Ask for ‘Seed of Men’?,” 433–436. Carasik hypothetically suggests that the reading ‫ זרע אנשים‬is as a result of text emendation by a scribe who corrected what originally was ‫זרע‬ ‫אלהים‬. For Carasik the story originally belonged to folktales of the birth of a hero. Auld, Samuel at the Threshold, 175. It is beyond the scope of this paper to delve into the issue of the literary construction of Samuel as a Levite. Regarding the issue of Samuel’s identity, see Leuchter, “Jeroboam the Ephratite,” 60–61.

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king (1 Sam 10:27). In both the stories, the scoundrels are regarded as deserving the punishment of death (see also 1 Sam 25:17; 2 Sam 20:1; 22:5). In addition, the scoundrels’ act of treating the offerings/gifts/tribute of YHWH with contempt finds a parallel in the accusation of the “scoundrels” who did not give tribute to Saul: But some scoundrels (‫)וּבנֵי ְבלִ ַיּﬠַל‬ ְ said, “How can this man save us?” They despised him and brought him no present (‫)וְ ל ֹא־הֵ ִביאוּ לוֹ ִמנְ חָ ה‬. But he kept silent. (1 Sam 10:27)

Furthermore, 1 Sam 2:12–17 is enveloped by verses 11 and 18, both of which point to Samuel being groomed in the priestly service, and thus clearly setting him as a potential priestly successor to Eli. The birth narrative thus turns out to be a divine initiative to raise another priest – a faithful priest (‫)כֹּ הֵ ן ֶנ ֱאמָ ן‬: “And I will raise up for myself a faithful priest, who shall do according to what is in my heart and in my mind; and I will build him a sure house, and he shall go in and out before my anointed for ever.” (1 Sam 2:35)

The birth of Samuel is thus the birth of someone who is destined to lead, the culmination of a process that goes back to the vow that Hannah made to give the boy-child to the Lord. Thus, despite being an outsider in the house of Eli, Samuel becomes the one who takes over the role of priesthood and judgeship. Considering, then, the double meaning of the Vhavenḓa saying vhuhosi vhu tou bebelwa, it can indeed be said that the birth of Samuel was the birth of one who was destined to lead. Samuel becomes the natural replacement of Hophni and Phineas as one who to take over the mantle of priesthood and judgeship after the father and sons all die. The rejection of Eli’s house, along with the death of Eli together with his sons, prefigures the rejection and death of Israel’s first king, Saul. The rejections of Eli and Saul are not presented as rejections by the people; rather, they are prophetic rejections. Dietrich suggests with regards to the redactional insertions in 1 Sam 3:1a; 12–14, which he views as flowing from DtrP, that these verses derive from a prophetic redactor who was suspicious of the monarchy and regarded prophetic leadership as an alternative. 28 YHWH revokes the promise of an eternal priesthood from the house of Eli (1 Sam 2:27–36; 3:10–18) and rejects Saul as king, even regretting having made Saul king (1 Sam 15). However, the rejection in both instances does not amount to immediate disposal: The terms of both fathers, Eli and Saul, only come to an end with their death. Furthermore, their dynasties do continue on, although only for a short time afterwards. However, as Auld argues, the language used with regard to the promise YHWH had made to Eli’s house and the ‘faithful priest’ that YHWH will raise up “anticipate the later story of the Jerusalem temple and the Davidic line.” 29 For Auld, the Elide 28 29

Dietrich, David, Saul und die Propheten, 106–130. Auld, Samuel at the Threshold, 174.

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house anticipates the house of David, whereas the sanctuary at Shiloh anticipates the temple in Jerusalem. 30 These linkages of the Elide line and the Davidic line with many others within 1 Sam 1–8 may be indicative of a pro-Davidic stance of the narrative; however, the withdrawal of the divine promise from Eli’s house does suggest a threat to the Davidic house as well, considering the failure of dynasties. The death of Eli and his sons in a sense prefigures the death of Saul and his sons. Both stories are interested in describing how the father dies on his own terms: Eli commits suicide by hurling himself backwards and breaking his neck, and Saul takes his own sword and falls upon it (1 Sam 4 and 1 Sam 31). The deaths of these two figures, Eli and Saul, together with their sons, are thus presented as the effective termination points of each dynasty. Those who replace the patriarchs come from outside of their family line, and are already positioned to take over. However, the proclaimed termination of each dynasty is not immediate, since in both cases the text tends to presume two dynastic lines moving side by side. In the case of 1 Sam 4, Ichabod comprises the scion of the Elide priesthood(judgeship) dynasty with its centre at Shiloh, but the text quickly loses sight of him, instead turning its focus on the Samuel priesthood-judgeship operating initially from Mizpah, and subsequently also from Bethel, Gilgal, and Ramah. Likewise, Saul’s dynasty also continued after the death of Saul, in the persons of Ishboshet and his uncle Abner, for another seven years and six months (see 2 Sam 2:7; 5:5). It should be noted, however, that the motif of father and sons dying together also raises suspicion, especially when there is an outsider who is well positioned to take over when a leadership vacuum opens up. As Eli’s sons’ priestly reputations spiral downwards, Samuel’s grows, and he becomes the central figure at Shiloh (1 Sam 3:19–21). If the elders of Israel went to take the ark to the battle from Shiloh, where was the prophet Samuel? Why did he not warn the elders of the detrimental effects it would have if they did so? The story is not interested in filling this gap. Furthermore, when Samuel takes over as judge over Israel, he does not continue to operate from Shiloh. Rather, he first moves his locus of operation to Mizpah (1 Sam 7:6) and later to his place of birth, Ramah (1 Sam 7:17). Was it due to the suspicion from the priests or the Levites in Shiloh that he felt compelled to move? In addition, why did Samuel build an altar to YHWH in Ramah? Was it an attempt to consolidate power by linking his judgeship with the cult? While it may be viewed as an innocent move by the new leader to move 30

As Auld argues, “Shiloh plays the role of Jerusalem. King Ahab may have a ‫( היכל‬1 Kgs 21:1), but the Hebrew Bible knows of no other divine ‘palace’ than the Temple in Jerusalem. We can add (1) that only the ‫ היכל‬in Jerusalem and the one in Shiloh are said to contain ‘the Ark of God’, (2) that only these two shrines are associated with the divine ‫( כבד‬1 Sam. 4:21, 22 1 Kgs 8:11), and (3) that the verb is used within Samuel-Kings of the priestly service only in 1 Sam. 2:11, 18; 3:1 and in 1 Kings 8:11. It seems very likely, therefore, that Shiloh here is not being described historically: It is a stage set to evoke Solomonic Jerusalem” (Auld, Samuel at the Threshold, 174).

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Hulisani Ramantswana

his administrative centre, such a move lends itself to suspicion: it should be viewed as a move which likely arose from tension between Samuel and the Levitical priests at Shiloh, who probably viewed him with suspicion. 31 In its immediate context, the prophetic declaration of the replacement of Eli’s house with a faithful priest in 1 Sam 2:35 refers to Samuel’s take-over of the priestly office. However, scholars tend to read 1 Sam 2:35 as referring to Zadok. Zadok only begins to appear in 2 Sam 8:17, and this during the period of king David: “Zadok son of Ahitub and Ahimelech son of Abiathar were priests; Seraiah was secretary.” Regarding 2 Sam 8:17, Wellhausen proposed an emendation of the text so that the text would read: “and Abiathar the son of Ahimelech the son of Ahitub, and Zadok were priests.” 32 In so doing, the genealogical link between Ahimelech (and thus Abiathar) with Zadok is discarded, thereby making it possible to identify Zadok as the “faithful priest” destined to usurp the Elide dynasty forever. It may well be that 1 Sam 1–8, as Frolov suggests, is engaged in polemical debate with Ezekiel’s ideology of the centralization of the cult at Jerusalem and its monopolization under the Zadokites. 33 However, considering the received form of the text, it may be deduced that the text projects a religious and political contest taking place within the hill country of Ephraim between the tribes of Ephraim, represented by Samuel, and of Levi, represented here by Eli. In some sense, Samuel prefigures Jeroboam, also an Ephraimite, who established the kingdom of Israel without the all-important ark of God, which was the cultic centrepiece of “Israel.” It is under Samuel’s judgeship that the ark of the covenant is lost from the hill country of Ephraim; this loss of the ark from priestly hands brought sorrow to all the people of Israel (1 Sam 7:2). The ark of the covenant has begun a journey that will ultimately culminate in Jerusalem. Under the judgeship of the Elide dynasty, the ark shifts from Shiloh to the Philistines’ territory. Under Samuel’s judgeship, the ark of the covenant moves on from the Philistines’ territory, but it never makes it back to its own home territory (see 1 Sam 6:9). Rather, it makes a stop first at Beth Shemesh, and finally comes to a 20-year sojourn in Kiriath Jearim, a territory of Judah, where it is placed in the house of Abinadab and guarded there by Abinadab’s son, Eleazar. This is a family with no Levitical or priesthood links. Thus, the Elide priesthoodjudgeship dynasty and the Samuel priesthood-judgeship dynasty both fail to 31

32 33

From a redactional perspective, it may be that the tradition which ties Samuel with Shiloh is not historically based, as argued by Schley and others; rather it is a theological construction, especially considering that the material in 1 Sam 1–2 likely belongs to an original tradition which linked Saul with the Levitical priests at Shiloh. While Samuel is linked with the shrines at Mizpah (1 Sam 7:5), Bethel and Gilgal (1 Sam 7:16), and Ramah as his hometown (1 Sam 7:17; 25:1), the Samuel tradition was secondarily overlaid on the older traditions, which likely had to with Saul and the Elide priests at Shiloh. In so doing Samuel becomes the replacement of the priests of Shiloh (see Schley, Shiloh: A Biblical Tradition and History, 156). Wellhausen, Der Text der Bücher Samuelis, 176–177. Frolov, The Turn of the Cycle, 171.

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retain (or regain) the ark of the covenant. The Ark tradition spanning 1 Sam 4:17b and 2 Sam 6 comprises in a sense a pro-David (pro-Judah) tradition. Samuel’s building of an altar at Ramah should therefore be viewed as an attempt to make up for the loss of the Ark of the covenant and an attempt to establish his dynasty by bringing the cult and judgeship together. Furthermore, in 1 Sam 8:1–2, Samuel followed Eli’s example of establishing a “hereditary judgeship,” but his attempt to establish a dynasty of priest-judges does not come to fruition. Instead, the people reject it in favour of a monarchy. Both Eli and Samuel have two sons who are unworthy to carry the mantle of judgeship forward. In 1 Samuel 1–8, regardless of whether one is born a leader (hereditary leadership) or born to lead (and therefore destined to lead), there is no guarantee for the future. As Wilson notes, the “unsure nature of Yahweh’s promises and the repeated failures of succession in a variety of pre-monarchic political situations would ultimately frame the remembering of monarchy’s foundation.” 34

3.

Kingship is Fought for: Contests for Kingship

In the preceding section, we saw that the ambivalent readings of the Vhavenḓa saying vhuhosi vhu tou bebelwa could be leveraged to provide insight into the received text of 1 Samuel: Samuel may not have been born a leader insofar as he sprang from a non-Levite genealogy. Nonetheless, he was born to lead in that it was his destiny to inherit the judgeship from Eli. In this section, we will explore how the Vhavenḓa saying vhuhosi vhu naka u tou lwelwa, ha sa lwela ndi muḽano (“Kingship is better fought for; if not, it spells disaster”) also provides a helpful lens for reading 1 Samuel. As with the previous adage, this saying also has double meaning: On the one hand it implies that the person who is in a position of power, such as a king, has to be mindful that there are others lurking who may want to overthrow him; a person who usurps may therefore feel justified to claim legitimacy, since kingship is something that has to be fought for. On the other hand, the saying also empowers the ruler in power to be prepared to fight in order to remain. In contrast to the first reading, this understanding legitimizes – at least in the eyes of the one in power – any and all preparations made by the ruler to fend off possible threats. In his theorization of power, Max Weber highlights the fact that those in power or who occupy a position of advantage in life tend to justify themselves by trying to establish and cultivate the belief in the legitimacy of their occupancy of this position. 35 In Weber’s view, the key component of power is “the belief in legitimacy”, whether this legitimacy rests on the basis of legal 34 35

Wilson, Kingship and Memory in Ancient Judah, 97; see also Polzin, Samuel and the Deuteronomist, 48. Weber, Economy and Society, 2:953.

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authority, traditional authority, or charismatic authority. 36 For a power relationship to be considered legitimate, there must be those who are convinced by its claims of legitimacy. However, the fact that a certain people or certain group(s) may be convinced of the legitimacy of the power relationship does not imply that everyone shares the same belief. It becomes incumbent upon those who are in power to try to convince the skeptical of their legitimacy. When persuasion fails, power is often exerted on the subordinates by force. Below, I focus on highlighting how 1 Samuel 1–8 fits within the scope of the battle for kingship at the dawn of the monarchy, as this transition is projected by the text. In order to achieve this, I turn my attention to the following: first, the transition from Samuel to Saul (and from Ephraim to Benjamin), which is a transition from the order of dynastic judgeship to dynastic kingship; and second, the role of Samuel as kingmaker in facilitating the two kingdoms’ establishment.

3.1

Samuel-Saul/Ephraim-Benjamin Contention

In Judges 17–21 the refrain ‫“( בַּ יּ ִָמים הָ הֵ ם אֵ ין מֶ לֶ� בְּ ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬in those days there was no king in Israel”) occurs four times (see Judg 17:6; 18:1; 19:1; 21:25). This refrain anticipates an impending shift from judgeship to kingship. The opening of 1 Samuel (chapters 1–8) continues the cycle of judgeship, instead of imminently introducing a transition from judgeship to kingship, making this section a continuation of the book of Judges. However, as some have observed, the Samuel birth narrative may be a recasting of Saul’s birth under Samuel. 37 Although it is not necessary to engage fully in the discussion here, it suffices to note that 1 Sam 1:28a may suggest that a Saulide narrative was subsequently overwritten when it was placed at the beginning of the Samuel narrative: ‫וְ ַגם אָ נֹ כִ י הִ ְשׁ ִאלְ ִתּהוּ לַיהוָה כָּל־הַ יּ ִָמים אֲשֶׁ ר הָ יָה הוּא שָׁ אוּל לַיהוָה‬ This text may be translated as follows: “So I have lent him to YHWH; as long as he lives, he is lent to YHWH.” or “So I have lent him to YHWH; as long as he lives, he is YHWH’s Saul.”

It is worthwhile to note that the allusion to Saul cannot be dismissed: the etymology of the name “Saul” (‫ )שָׁ אוּל‬meaning “the one requested/loaned”, involves the verb (‫)שׁאל‬, which is used repeatedly in the Samuel birth narrative (1 Sam 1:17, 20, 27, 28). 38 36 37 38

Weber, Economy and Society, 1:215. McCarter, I Samuel, 184; Blenkinsopp, A History of Prophecy in Israel, 65; Merkur, “Biblical Terrorism,” 55–79. The etymological argument alone, however, would not settle the matter. First, there are biblical examples of names paired with etymological derivation and/or elaborated through a story: Isaac (Gen 17:15–19; 18:1–15), Moab (Gen 19:38), Esau (Gen 25:25, 30; 27:11, 23; 32:4; 33:14, 16), the territory of Benjamin (Gen 35:16–20), and Solomon (2 Sam 11:1–12:25). Second, there are

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For White, 1 Sam 1, with its intertextual linkages to Saul, does not necessarily indicate that the birth story was originally Saul’s. Rather, it was constructed specifically to foreshadow the rise of Israel’s first king, Saul. The birth narrative, according to White, becomes the first scene of an apologetic history designed to establish Saul’s kingship, then the reason for the telling of Samuel’s birth in terms of Saul’s and Jonathan’s names becomes clear. Although Samuel dominates the beginning of the history (1 Sam 1:1–4:1a), his preeminence there is solely for the sake of credentialing him as YHWH’s intermediary. 39

Thus, for White, the allusion to Saul’s personal and dynastic future in terms of Samuel’s birth is not so much to advance Samuel’s prophetic authority but to establish Samuel as a political predecessor who installs the Saulide dynasty. The birth narrative, as White argues, merely forms part of the pro-Saul narrative which serves as the basis of the composition of all of 1 Sam 1–14. 40 Giffone argues that the text’s portrayal of Samuel as the one who anoints Saul makes for good politics, considering the centrality of Benjamin’s territory and the historic connections between Ephraim and Benjamin as part of the Rachel tribes. 41 Pace White, however, the telling of the story of Samuel’s birth in vocabulary linked etymologically to the name of Saul does more than just set Samuel as a political predecessor. The rewriting of the birth narrative turns a pro-Saul narrative into a pro-Samuel narrative, thereby deferring the grand entrance of Israel’s first king to a generation later. It may even be, as Jobling argues, that 1 Sam 1–8 tries to project the period of judges as a lost ideal period. 42 In 1 Sam 1– 8, Samuel is the one who gets a grand entrance; the existence of a Samuel birth narrative sets him in the company of legendary figures such as Moses and Samson. As Middleton notes, the similarity in the names of the two figures anticipates the rivalry that plays out in the transition from judgeship to kingship. 43 Considering the ancient Near Eastern obsession with hereditary succession, it is unreasonable to think that Samuel, an Ephraimite, would not have sought

39 40

41 42 43

examples of names which have the same form and meaning as the word from which it derives: Ishamel (Gen 16:11), Jacob (Gen 27:36), Dan (Gen 30:6), Gad (Gen 30:11), Joseph (Gen 30:24), Perez (Gen 38:29), and Manasseh (Gen 41:51). Third, examples of names which hardly have etymological connection: Judah (Gen 29:35), Zebulun (Gen 30:20), Joseph (Gen 30:23), Ephraim (Gen 41:52), Moses (Exod 2:10), and Gershom (Exod 2:22). For further discussion, see White, “Saul and Jonathan in 1 Samuel 1 and 14,” 123–126. White, “Saul and Jonathan,” 127. White regards the Saul narrative to have originally had the following seven scenes: first scene (1 Sam 1:1–28; 2:11a), second scene (2:11b–34; 3:1a), third scene (3:1b–4:1a), scene four (4:1b [LXX]–18a; 4:19–5:4; 5:6–16:14, 16), scene five (9:1–8; 9:10–10:7, 9–10, 13–16), scene six (10:27b [4QSama]–11:11, 15), and scene seven (13:2–7a, 15b–20; 13:22–14:16) (see White, “‘History of Saul’s Rise:’ Saulide Propaganda in 1 Samuel 1–14”). Giffone, ‘Sit at My Right Hand’, 149. Jobling, 1 Samuel, 34, 70. Middleton, “Samuel Agonistes: A Conflicted Prophet’s Resistance to God and Contribution to the Failure of Israel’s First King,” 72.

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to establish his judgeship as a dynasty, or that at least he or one of his sons expected to have had the opportunity to take up the position of kingship. Logically, it does not make for good politics for a Joseph tribe, which some traditions seem to consider to be a leading tribe (Gen 48:9–22) and the largest tribe (Josh 17:14–18) to simply hand over power to the tribe of Benjamin without a fight. The narrative of the Battle at Gibeah (Judg 20), 44 a Benjamite territory, clearly highlights that the tribe of Benjamin was well known for its military prowess. And the Benjaminites came together out of the cities to Gibeah, to go out to battle against the people of Israel. And the Benjaminites mustered out of their cities on that day twentysix thousand men that drew the sword, besides the inhabitants of Gibeah, who mustered seven hundred picked men. Among all these were seven hundred picked men who were left-handed; every one could sling a stone at a hair, and not miss. (Judg 20:14–16 RSV)

The Benjaminites had an army which was capable of resisting an army of ‫כָּל־בְּ נֵי‬ ‫“ ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬all the children of Israel” (Judg 20:1) or ‫“ כֹ ל ִשׁבְ טֵ י ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬all the tribes of Israel” (Judg 20:10), which had marshalled at Mizpah (Judg 20:1, 3). I concur with Edenburg’s observation that “The placement of the story of Gibeah, immediately before Samuel’s birth and the establishment of the monarchy, suggests an attempt to draw an analogy between the events connected with Gibeah in Judg 19–21 and in the Saul narratives.” 45 To Edenburg’s observation should also be added that the story of Gibeah is connected with Samuel’s judgeship by virtue of the centrality of Mizpah in each narrative. It cannot be regarded as mere coincidence that “all Israel” would choose to assemble at Mizpah if it played no strategic role. In the 1 Samuel narrative, Mizpah was Samuel’s centre of operation (1 Sam 7:5–6, 12, 15–16; 10:17). It is plausible that the narrative of the battle at Gibeah against the Benjaminites would have initially formed part of Samuel’s judgeship story; otherwise, we have to suppose that during the time of the battle at Gibeah there was no judge in Israel. With regard to the Saul narratives, there are noteworthy parallels between Judg 19–21 and 1 Sam 10–11 that reflect a strategy already observed in Samuel’s birth narrative. The one tells the story in terms of another. We saw above that Samuel’s birth narrative anticipated Saul through repeated use of the verbal root ‫שׁאל‬. In the case of the battle at Gibeah, however, the story of the nearextinction of the tribe of Benjamin is told in terms of Saul’s selection by lot and his victory over the Ammonites. Some of the notable parallels are the following: 46 298F

44 45 46

The narrative of the battle at Gibeah is a part of broad narrative, Judges 19–21, which portrays the tribe of Benjamin negatively. Edenburg, Dismembering the Whole, 221. I am indebted here to Edenburg, Dismembering the Whole, 221–226.

Tribal Contentions for the Throne Marshalling Israel through the cutting into pieces sent out to all the territories of Israel

From the time of the exodus from Egypt to this day

Mizpah – a meeting place with YHWH

1 Sam 11:7 He took (‫ )וַיִּ קַּ ח‬a yoke of oxen, and cut them in pieces and sent them throughout all the territory of Israel (‫ )וַיְ שַׁ לַּח ְבּכָל־גְּ בוּל יִ ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬by the hand of messengers, saying, “Whoever does not come out after Saul and Samuel, so shall it be done to his oxen!” Then the dread of the Lord fell upon the people, and they came out as one man ( ‫ַויֵּצְ אוּ‬ ‫)כְּ ִאישׁ אֶ חָ ד‬. (RSV) 1 Sam 10:17–19 17 Now Samuel summoned the people to the Lord at Mizpah 18 and said to them, “Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel, ‘I brought up Israel out of Egypt ( ‫ֵיתי‬ ִ ‫אָ נֹ כִ י הֶ ֱﬠל‬ ‫)אֶ ת־יִ ְשׂ ָראֵ ל ִמ ִמּצְ ָריִ ם‬, and I rescued you from the hand of the Egyptians and from the hand of all the kingdoms that were oppressing you.’ 19 But today (‫ )הַ יּוֹם‬you have rejected your God, who saves you from all your calamities and your distresses; and you have said, ‘No! but set a king over us.’ Now therefore present yourselves before the Lord by your tribes and by your clans.” (NRS) 1 Sam 10:17 (cf. 1 Sam 7:5–6) Now Samuel summoned the people to the Lord at Mizpah (‫אֶ ל־‬ ‫)יְ ה ָוה הַ ִמּצְ פָּה‬. (RSV)

97 Judg 19:29–20:1 29 And when he entered his house, he took (‫ )וַיִּ קַּח‬a knife, and laying hold of his concubine he divided her, limb by limb, into twelve pieces, and sent her throughout all the territory of Israel (‫) ְבּכֹ ל גְּ בוּל יִ ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬.

Judg 19:30 And all who saw it said, “Such a thing has never happened or been seen from the day that the people of Israel came up out of the land of Egypt ( ‫)לְ ִמיּוֹם ﬠֲלוֹת ְבּנֵי־יִ ְשׂ ָראֵ ל מֵ אֶ ֶרץ ִמצְ ַריִ ם‬ until this day ( ‫ ;)ﬠַד הַ יּוֹם הַ זֶּה‬consider it, take counsel, and speak.”

Judg 20:1, 3a; 21:1, 5 20:1 Then all the people of Israel came out, from Dan to Beersheba, including the land of Gilead, and the congregation assembled as one man to the Lord at Mizpah (‫)אֶ ל־יְ הוָה הַ ִמּצְ פָּה‬. (RSV) 20:3 Now the Benjaminites heard that the people of Israel had gone up to Mizpah. (RSV) 21:1 Now the men of Israel had sworn at Mizpah, “No one of us shall give his daughter in marriage to Benjamin.” (RSV) 21:5 And the people of Israel said, “Which of all the tribes of Israel did not come up in the assembly to the Lord?” For they had taken a great oath concerning him who did not come up to the Lord to Mizpah (‫אֶ ל־‬

98

The chosen tribe: Benjamin vs. Judah

Dealing with the “scoundrels” (‫ְבּנֵי־‬ ‫) ְבלִ ַיּ ַﬠל‬

Saving versus the killing of the people of Jabeshgilead

Hulisani Ramantswana

1 Sam 10:20 Then Samuel brought all the tribes of Israel near, and the tribe of Benjamin was taken by lot. (RSV)

1 Sam 10:26–27; 11:12–13 10:26 As Saul went to his home at Gibeah (‫)גִּ ְבﬠָתָ ה‬, and with him went men of valor whose hearts God had touched. 27 Then scounְ ) said: “How can drels (‫וּבנֵי ְבלִ ַיּﬠַל‬ this one save us.” They despised him and did not bring him tribute. But he kept silent. 11:12 Then the people said to Samuel, “Who is it that said, ‘Shall Saul rule over us?’ Hand over the men so that we may put them to death (‫) ְתּנוּ הָ ֲא ָנ ִשׁים וּנְ ִמיתֵ ם‬.” 1 Sam 11:8–9 8 When he mustered them at Bezek, the men of Israel were three hundred thousand, and the men of Judah thirty thousand. 9 And they said to the messengers who had come, “Thus shall you say to the men of Jabeshgilead: ‘Tomorrow, by the time the sun is hot, you shall have deliverance.’” When the messengers came and told the men of Jabesh, they were glad. (RSV)

‫)יְ הוָה הַ ִמּצְ פָּה‬, saying, “He shall be put to death.” (RSV) 21:8 And they said, “What one is there of the tribes of Israel that did not come up to the Lord to Mizpah (‫אֶ ל־‬ ‫ ”?)יְ הוָה הַ ִמּצְ פָּה‬And behold, no one had come to the camp from Jabeshgilead, to the assembly. (RSV) Judg 20:9, 18 9 But now this is what we will do to Gibeah: we will go up against it by lot. 18 The people of Israel arose and went up to Bethel, and inquired of God, “Which of us shall go up first to battle against the Benjaminites?” And the Lord said, “Judah shall go up first.” (RSV) Judg 20:13 “Now then, hand over the men (‫ְתּנוּ אֶ ת־‬ ְ ‫)בּנ‬, ְ ‫)הָ ֲאנ ִָשׁים‬, the scoundrels (‫ֵי־בלִ ַיּﬠַל‬ who are in Gibeah, so that we may put them to death (‫)אֲשֶׁ ר בַּ גִּ ְבﬠָה וּנְ ִמיתֵ ם‬, and purge the evil from Israel.” But the Benjaminites were not willing to listen to their brothers ( ‫וְ ל ֹא אָ בוּ ]כך[ ] ְבּנֵי[ ִבּנְ י ִָמן‬ ‫)לִ ְשׁמֹ ַﬠ ְבּקוֹל אֲחֵ יהֶ ם‬, the Israelites.

Judg 21:8–11 8 And they said, “What one is there of the tribes of Israel that did not come up to the Lord to Mizpah?” And behold, no one had come to the camp from Jabeshgilead, to the assembly. 9 For when the people were mustered, behold, not one of the inhabitants of Jabeshgilead was there. 10 So the congregation sent thither twelve thousand of their bravest men, and commanded them, “Go and smite the inhabitants of Jabeshgilead with the edge of the sword; also the women and the little ones. 11 This is what you shall do; every male and every woman that has lain with a male you shall utterly destroy.” (RSV)

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In the story-arc encompassing 1 Samuel 10–11, Saul cuts into pieces a yoke of oxen as a way of marshalling the tribes to go to war against the Ammonites. This was an act of leadership, prior to his inauguration as king (1 Sam 11:14–15), to defend the people of Jabesh-gilead. In Judges, the Levite cuts a woman’s body into twelve pieces and sends them throughout the territories of Israel, reading in between the lines, for the sake of retributive justice against the people of Gibeah. Furthermore, it is the men of Jabesh-gilead who, in the narrative in Judges 19–21, become the target of killing because they did not appear at an assembly of the tribes. The action taken by the Israelites almost resulted in the extinction of the tribe of Benjamin. As a response to this near-destruction, the unmarried women of Jabesh-gilead are captured, then given to the Benjamites as a means of preserving that tribe’s lineage. The two stories have different orientations – 1 Samuel 10–11 portray Saul positively as leading Israel’s army to deliver a city from an external enemy whereas the Judges 19–21 story presents the people of Gibeah – and in turn the whole tribe of Benjamin – as deserving of death for an act of violence in the intertribal relations. The two stories centre on the Benjamites. Both episodes demonstrate a particular focus on the locations of Gibeah and Mizpah. Gibeah, which is the hometown of Israel’s first king Saul, a Benjamite, is in the Judges 19–21 narrative the place of “scoundrels” (‫)בְּ נֵי־בְ לִ ַיּﬠַל‬. These scoundrels committed an atrocity deserving of death, just as the sons of Eli, who are also considered “scoundrels” (‫ ;בְּ נֵי בְ לִ ַיּﬠַל‬1 Sam 2:12), die in the context of war. Mizpah, 47 on the other hand, is the meeting place before YHWH. Mizpah, as already noted, was a centre of operation for Israel’s last judge, Samuel (1 Sam 7:5–7). Considering the intertextual relationship between Judges 19–21 and 1 Samuel 1–11, Milstein argues that while the received text has an anti-Saul slant to it, this came about through redactional activity. 48 For Milstein, there was likely an early Saul complex, which was proSaul, which had the following parts: the Benjamite war (Judg 20–21), the women of Shiloh (Judg 21:15–24), the birth of Saul (1 Sam 1), and Saul’s war with the Ammonites (1 Sam 11). The pro-Saul complex was later revised into an anti-Saul narrative with Judges 19:1–20:13 inserted as an introduction. Milstein argues that Judges 19:1–20:13 serves to denigrate Saul by mocking Saul’s mustering of Israel’s army to fight against the Ammonites. 49 Similarly, Edenburg argues that Judges 19–21 seems to rely on the 1 Samuel 10–11 narrative; it does so as a polemic against Saul, which was composed by a post-Deuteronomistic author. 50 Thus, the Judges 19–21 narrative may be understood as anti-Saul or an attempt to delegitimize the tribe of Benjamin altogether as a tribe not worth leading 47 48 49 50

Mizpah is also the hometown of Jephthah, who was made “a leader and commander” by the elders of Gilead. Milstein, Tracking the Master Scribe, 175–206. For Milstein, Judges 19:1–20:13 was constructed to recast not only the Benjamite war, but also the large Saul complex. Edenburg, Dismembering the Whole, 226.

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Israel in favour of the tribe of Judah; accordingly, we must consider this a proDavidic narrative. Over the course of the rewriting proposed by Edenburg and reconstructed here, the story of a celebration of victory over the Ammonites and the inauguration of Israel’s king elect (1 Sam 10–11) is turned on its head to become a story of mourning over the near-destruction of the tribe of Benjamin – and, in turn, the wiping out of the people of Jabesh-gilead, the abduction of their unmarried women, and the further abduction of women from Shiloh, a local shrine which was the base of the Elide priests (Judges 19–21). 1 Sam 11:15 So all the people went to Gilgal, and there they made Saul king before the Lord in Gilgal. There they sacrificed peace offerings before the Lord, and there Saul and all the men of Israel rejoiced greatly. (RSV)

Judg 21:1–3 1 Now the men of Israel had sworn at Mizpah, “No one of us shall give his daughter in marriage to Benjamin.” 2 And the people came to Bethel, and sat there till evening before God, and they lifted up their voices and wept bitterly. 3 And they said, “O Lord, the God of Israel, why has this come to pass in Israel, that there should be today one tribe lacking in Israel?” (RSV)

If the two conflicting stories are anything to go by, both the setting of the narrative in Judges 19–21 at the tail end of the period of the judges and the central role of Mizpah as a place of assembly before YHWH require the reader to associate the events with Israel’s last judge, Samuel, although his name is not mentioned. While the story is anti-Saul or anti-Benjamin, it also does not seem to be pro-Samuel. It reflects the coming of an era which almost caused an extinction of the tribe of Benjamin. Surprisingly, however, the tribe that is almost wiped out in Judges 19–21 emerges in 1 Samuel as the one which attains the position of kingship through Saul. The Judges 19–21 story points to its support for a Davidic lineage of kingship on the basis of three things: first, the importance it places on “Bethlehem of Judah,” the hometown of the Levite’s concubine, which also happens to be the hometown of David; second, its mention of Jebus/Jerusalem as an alternative to Gibeah to spend a night; and third, the appointment of Judah by lot to be the tribe that goes first against the tribe of Benjamin. 51 The Janus-like nature of 1 Samuel 1–8, which looks both forward to the establishment of the monarchy and backward to the turmoil wrought by a decentralized tribal system, suggests a new interpretation of these chapters’ bearing towards the kingship. These chapters provide an idealized depiction of Samuel as a combined prophet-priest-judge who delivered Israel’s territory from the Philistines and the Amorites, and who administered justice to Israel 51

See Brettler, “The Book of Judges, Literature as Politics,” 412–415; Amit, “The Literature in the Service of Politics: Studies in Judges 19–21”; Amit, “The Saul Polemic in the Persian Period,” 656–658; Stipp, “Richter 19: Ein frühes Beispiel schriftgestützter politischer Propaganda in Israel,” 127–164.

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throughout his life. At the same time, these chapters pin the collapse of kingship on Samuel’s sons. Together, however, these chapters do not do justice as a prelude to the elders’ request for a king as it presents a secure Israel (1 Sam 7:13). The request for a king would have likely emerged from the fear of the continuing threats of the Philistines and the Ammonites. In his historical review, Samuel reminds the people, but “when you saw that King Nahash of the Ammonites came against you, you said to me, ‘No, but a king shall reign over us,’ though the Lord your God was your king” (1 Sam 12:12 NRS). It was only when people felt unsafe and insecure that the people of Israel chose to explore an alternative governmental system (cf. Judg 11, in which the elders of Gilead appoint Jephthah as the leader and commander against external threats). Saul’s victory over the Ammonites would naturally have served as motivation for the people to accept him as their king. In addition, by locating the rise of Saul as king within the period of Samuel’s judgeship, the narrative continues the pattern that was originally used to portray the rise of Samuel. It is in the context of victory over the Philistines following the death of Eli and his scoundrel (‫ )בְּ נֵי בְ לִ ַיּﬠַל‬sons that Samuel emerged as judge. As Kang notes, the normal way of rising to power in the ancient Near Eastern states was that “after victory, the victor used to become a king.” 52 The transition from Samuel to Saul and from Ephraim to Benjamin projects a politics of power within the Rachel tribes. This politics notably features a competition between Ephraim and Benjamin, but one cannot fail to notice the text’s deafening silence with regard to Manasseh. In 1 Samuel, the only tribes that are mentioned at the dawn of the monarchy are Ephraim, Benjamin, Levi, and Judah. However, what is referred to as “Israel” originally only included the tribes occupying the central part of the land: Ephraim, Manasseh, and Benjamin. 53 In 1 Samuel only three tribes are mentioned (Ephraim, Benjamin, and Levi), although there are about 150 references to Israel as a whole. 54 Thus, the designation “Israel,” as Dietrich notes, is older than Saul’s monarchy, as it is also reflected in the Pharaoh Merneptah’s stele (about 1210 BCE): “Plundered is Canaan with every evil; carried off is Ashkelon; seized upon is Gezer; Yanoam is made as that which does not exist; Israel is laid waste, his seed is not[…] All lands together, they are pacified.” The name “Israel,” while it may have started with Ephraim and Benjamin, was not a fixed political identity, but rather part of “a complex geography of shifting identities.” 55 The battle for kingship at the dawn of Israel’s monarchy was a battle between two tribes: Ephraim and Benjamin. It seems unlikely that Israel at the dawn of the monarchy also included Judah; therefore, 52 53 54 55

Kang, Divine War in the Old Testament and in the Ancient Near East, 188. Finkelstein and Silberman, David and Solomon; Davies, “The Beginnings of the Kingdom of Judah.” For Dietrich, the designation of the two tribes, Ephraim and Benjamin, as Israel goes back to a time before the Saulide kingdom (Dietrich, The Early Monarchy in Israel, 174). Fleming, The Legacy of Israel in Judah’s Bible, 12.

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the initial stories of kingship associated with the Northern Kingdom had nothing to do with that southernmost tribe. Moreover, the stories of the dynastic failures suffered by Eli, Samuel, and Saul likely point forward to the later instability in royal succession in the Northern Kingdom of Israel during the Iron Age IIB. As Fleming argues, Clearly, each new king wished to hand off power to a successor, and no biblical tradition envisions any attempt to thwart the coronation of royal sons. As a historical portrait, the books of Samuel and Kings suggest a gradual progress in rulers’ capacity to hold power based on the authority of their lineage, in that the families of Omri and Jehu last three and four generations, respectively. 56

However, 1 Samuel 1–8, with its forward linkages, also anticipates the rise not simply of a king (singular), but the rise of kings (plural). Dynastic successors in 1 Samuel 1–8 come in pairs: Eli’s successors are Hophni and Phineas, whereas Samuel’s successors are Joel and Abiah. The movement in the larger scope of the Deuteronomistic History from a unified monarchy to a divided one also bears out this bifurcation of leadership.

3.2

Samuel, the Kingmaker, and Royal Contentions between Benjamin and Judah

Samuel is unlike any other judge before him. Authority figures prior to Samuel all receive brief narration of their judgeship period. The text-span relating to Samuel’s period as judge is much longer than those of the earlier judges. The description of his life links with the judges who preceded him, but also extends beyond the inauguration of the monarchy, which serves as the effective termination of Samuel’s judgeship. The book of 1–2 Samuel presents both Saul and David as successors to the period of judgeship. However, these two anointed kings rule over what are effectively two different kingdoms. The anointing of a king (or kings) is anticipated already in Hannah’s song (1 Sam 2:10); it is also anticipated in the prophetic promise of a “faithful priest” who will stand alongside the Lord’s anointed one (1 Sam 2:35). The question then becomes: to which anointed one does the Song of Hannah and the prophetic promise refer to? Do these passages refer to Saul or to David or both? The ambiguity lies in the fact that the intended referent could be either Saul, the first-crowned king of Israel, or David, the “man after God’s own heart”, who united Judah with Israel. In order to answer this question, we might leverage the textual link between the ‫קֶ ֶרן ְמ ִשׁיחוֹ‬ (“horn of his anointed”) of 1 Sam 2:10 and the ‫“( קֶ ֶרן הַ שֶּׁ מֶ ן‬horn of oil”) which is used to anoint the Lord’s anointed in 1 Sam 16:13: ‫ַו ִיּקַּ ח ְשׁמוּאֵ ל אֶ ת־קֶ ֶרן הַ שֶּׁ מֶ ן ַויּ ְִמשַׁ ח‬ ‫“( אֹ תוֹ בְּ קֶ ֶרב אֶ חָ יו ו ִַתּצְ לַח רוּחַ ־יְהוָה אֶ ל־דָּ וִ ד מֵ הַ יּוֹם הַ הוּא וָמָ ﬠְ לָה‬Then Samuel took the horn 56

Fleming, The Legacy of Israel in Judah’s Bible, 27.

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of oil, and anointed him in the presence of his brothers; and the spirit of YHWH came powerfully upon David from that day onwards”). Clearly, David is the intended reference in the latter passage, meaning that the author of 1 Sam 2:10 also likely had David in view when composing the earlier verse. This forward linkage thus passes over the first king of Israel and lands on the second anointed, thereby likely playing on the motif of the blessing which passes the first and goes to the second (Cain-Abel, Esau-Jacob, Manasseh-Ephraim). Accordingly, this structure removes the blessing from the smallest of the tribes of Israel and within that tribe from the least of all the families of Benjamin (see 1 Sam 9:2). In the context of 1 Samuel 1–8, the request for a king was originally an issue limited to “Israel” – and as we have seen already, this geographic designation excluded Judah. Judah only comes on the scene in 1 Sam 11:8, when king Saul marshals a huge army from Israel and also from Judah: “When he[Saul] mustered them at Bezek, the men of Israel were three hundred thousand, and the men of Judah thirty thousand” (1 Sam 11:8). Within 1 Samuel the two entities, Israel and Judah, remain two separate entities; thus Israel’s first king was king not over Israel and Judah, but solely over Israel. When the elders of Israel requested Samuel to appoint a king to rule over them, it did not go uncontested. The locution of their request is telling: ‫הִ נֵּה אַ תָּ ה‬ ‫“( זָקַ ְנתָּ וּבָ נֶי� ל ֹא הָ לְ כוּ בִּ ְד ָרכֶי� ַﬠתָּ ה ִשׂימָ ה־לָּנוּ מֶ לֶ� לְ שָׁ פְ טֵ נוּ כְּ כָל־הַ גּוֹ ִים‬Behold, you are old and your sons do not walk in your ways; now appoint for us a king to judge over us like all the nations”; 1 Sam 5:8). For the elders of Israel, the period of judgeship did not make them feel secure. This lack of confidence in the safety and security of the judge-based system of government is surprising, since the text presents Samuel as an ideal figure whose judgeship was a success for the most part (e.g., 1 Sam 7:13–15). However, the elders’ request unexpectedly undercuts the idealistic picture of Samuel’s judgeship. The people speak of the function of a king in terms of judgeship – “appoint a king to judge over us”. The elders here express great disappointment with Samuel (1 Sam 8:6). While the text does not reveal what Samuel said in his prayer to YHWH regarding the issue, the response is telling: “Listen to the voice of the people in all that they say to you ( ‫ְשׁמַ ע בְּ קוֹל הָ ﬠָם‬ �‫ֹאמרוּ אֵ לֶי‬ ְ ‫)לְ כֹ ל ֲאשֶׁ ר־י‬, for they have not rejected you, but they have rejected me as their king” (1 Sam 8:7 RSV). The response to Samuel’s prayer suggests that he, Samuel, felt rejected by the people. Presumably, if the people had chosen him to be king, the discussion would have struck a different chord: we would expect that he, Samuel, would have responded more positively if the people had been “promoting” him to the kingship. As the text stands, Samuel is not only disappointed, but also criticizes the move. Instead of doing what YHWH had instructed Samuel to do – listen to the voice of the people in all that they say to him – he tries to convince them not to go ahead with what they had requested. The response of the people is equally telling: “But the people refused to listen to the voice of Samuel (‫ ;) ַו ְימָ אֲנוּ הָ ָﬠם לִ ְשׁמֹ ַﬠ בְּ קוֹל ְשׁמוּאֵ ל‬and they said, ‘No! but we will have a king over us, that we also may be like all the nations, and that our king

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may govern us and go out before us and fight our battles’” (1 Sam 8:19–20 RSV). Thus, as though they had heard what the Lord had said, the people refuse to listen to their prophet-priest-judge. It was he who was supposed to listen to “all they say to him” instead of trying to persuade the people to listen to him. As YHWH had said: “For they have not rejected you, but they have rejected me as their king.” Samuel’s negative reaction to the people’s request exemplifies an antimonarchical tradition in ancient Israel. As Frolov notes, “1 Samuel 8 ends in suspense,” as the elders had to leave without knowing whether their request for a monarch would come to pass or not. Nor did Samuel reveal to them YHWH’s endorsement of their request for a king. 57 The Deuteronomic law regarding the king (Deut 17:14–20) does not prevent the people from making such a request; in fact, it serves to anticipate a time when such a request will be made. 58 The installation of King Saul does finally happen following his anointing by Samuel (1 Sam 10:1), his selection by lot (1 Sam 10:17–27), and his victory over the Ammonites (1 Sam 11). However, once someone is installed as king, there always remains a danger lurking from those who surround the king. These people – within the king’s orbit but perhaps less than fully loyal to him – may facilitate usurpation or attempt to ascend to the royal position themselves. Consequently, the Vhavenḓa saying vhuhosi vhu naka u tou lwela, ha sa lwelwa ndi muḽano (“Kingship is better fought for; if not, it spells disaster”) provides a lens through which to view some of Saul’s actions as he attempted to secure his kingship. In his study entitled The Royal Dynasties in Ancient Israel: A Study of the Formation and Development of Royal-Dynastic Ideology, Ishida concluded, following his examination of dynasties within the broader ancient Near East, that hereditary kingship succession was a common feature in Mesopotamia, Egypt, and SyriaPalestine. 59 Israel’s conception of kingship or monarchy and how it should function, in as much as it could have had its distinctive features, also reflected the royal ideology dominant across the broader ancient Near Eastern context. In Babylonia, as Lambert notes, the dynastic rule through a royal family became a common a feature with the arrival of the Amorites after 2000 BCE. 60 The royal epithet “lasting seed of kingship” was employed to assert royal legitimacy through descent from previous kings. 61 As Lambert notes, the Assyrians also used the royal epithet for their kings, as attested in their royal inscriptions 57 58

59 60 61

Frolov, The Turn of the Cycle, 147. Scholars, however, do highlight that the Deuteronomic authors are not entirely clear on whether the Deuteronomic law requires the people to decide at some point in the future as to whether they want to appoint a king or it is an obligation for them to appoint a king. See von Rad, Deuteronomy: A Commentary, 119; Brueggemann, Deuteronomy, 184. Ishida, The Royal Dynasties in Ancient Israel. Lambert, “Kingship in Ancient Mesopotamia,” 62–70. Lambert, “The Seed of Kingship,” 427–440. The phrase appears in the Sumerian King List of Ur III dynasty, during the First Dynasty of Babylon, during the Kassite dynasty of Babylon, in the post-Kassite period, and in the Late Babylonian dynasty.

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dating from the thirteenth century BCE. Baden highlights that “[g]enealogical succession to the throne was not just a matter of genetic loyalty; it was a way of ensuring that one’s name would be properly remembered and praised. 62 Some of the steps that Saul took in order to secure his kingdom are the following: − The cooperation between two centres – Ramah (Samuel’s centre) and Gibeah (Saul’s centre). Even after the inauguration of the monarchy, Samuel continued to be an influential person. The two centres of power would either work in harmony with each other or against each other. Following his anointing, when he charismatically led Israel against the Ammonites by calling upon the people to support his cause, Saul declared: “Whoever does not come out after Saul and Samuel, so shall it be done to his oxen” (1 Sam 11:7). − Saul’s dealing with the “scoundrels” (‫ )בְּ נֵי בְ לִ ַיּﬠַל‬who had initially rejected him as king by opting to keep his calm and also opting not to kill them (1 Sam 10:27; cf. 11:12–13). The two centres of power functioned alongside each other for as long as both men were alive (1 Sam 8–25 or 28). 63 However, the centre at Ramah was working against the centre at Gibeah, and it may even be argued the former was hell bent on seeing the latter fail. The following incidents highlight the attempts of Samuel to discredit Saul or render him an ineffective king: − On the occasion of affirming Saul’s kingship, Samuel projects, on the one hand, the system of judges as a glorious and ideal one within a theocratic model and, on the other, kingship as an evil system (1 Sam 12:1–15). The implication of Samuel’s rhetoric was to indicate that the people did not need a king. As Middleton notes, this indicates self-serving motives on the part of Samuel. 64 − The miraculous act performed by Samuel does not serve to confirm the kingship of Saul but for the people to realize that it is was evil to ask for a king (1 Sam 12:16–17). − Samuel uses an occasion that was intended to affirm Saul’s kingship to boost his own image: “So Samuel called upon YHWH, and YHWH caused thunder and rain on that day; and all the people greatly feared YHWH and Samuel” (1 Sam 12:18). Thus, on the occasion of affirming the kingship of Saul, the king is not even mentioned by name. 65 62 63 64 65

Baden, The Historical David, 68. In my view, 1 Sam 28 is an anti-Saul narrative intended to project Saul as somewhat dependent on the judgment of Samuel for his success. Middleton, “Samuel Agonistes,” 75. For Nelson, 1 Sam 12 is well integrated in its literary context, as it functions as a transitional moment for Samuel from functioning as both prophet and judge to just functioning as judge (Nelson, “The Deuteronomist Historian in Samuel,” 22). Pace Nelson, it should be noted that in 1 Sam 7, Samuel’s judgeship is projected as having lasted throughout his lifetime, which points to a contentious time of two systems operating at the same time.

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The tensions between the two centres continued until they reached an impasse and the two could not continue to cooperate with each other. The following incidents highlight an even more strained relationship between the two centres of power: − Samuel set Saul up for failure: In 1 Samuel 13, there is a report of an incident where Saul had summoned the people to Gilgal so that they would muster against the Philistines. The arrangement was that Samuel would be there in seven days, before the appointed feast (1 Sam 10:8); however, Samuel did not show up when he was expected. This resulted in Saul’s army becoming paralyzed with fear and deserting him. Because Samuel did not show up on time, Saul feared that he might have been set up for a suicidal mission; he believed he had to act swiftly by offering the burnt offering himself in an attempt to redeem the situation. Saul’s desperate act to salvage the situation thus becomes the occasion of his rejection. 66 As Jobling notes, Saul’s admission of guilt was not so much for his cultic blunder, “but [for] acting at all in the absence of Samuel. He should have waited to be shown what to do. The live king should have waited for the dead judge.” 67 − The prophetic declaration was damning: On the one hand, Saul had had the opportunity for YHWH to establish his dynasty over Israel forever, so his dynasty would now not last (1 Sam 13:13–14a). On the other hand, however, YHWH has “sought” (‫ )בקשׁ‬and “appointed” (‫ )צוה‬another “king-designate” (‫ ;נָגִ יד‬1 Sam 13:14). The impression given is not so much that it will be done, but that it has already been done, which raises the question: When Samuel was delaying to come, what was he up to? It may be that the narrative of David’s anointing reported in 1 Samuel 16 should be read as something that occurred during the period of more than seven days when Samuel was AWOL. This raises the possibility that the prophecy regarding the appointment of another “king-designate” was prophecy ex eventu. − Saul was totally rejected by Samuel: Saul’s failure to attend to the word of the Lord at the battle with the Amalekites comprised the final nail in the coffin of the cooperation between the two centres of power. The idea of battle against the Amalekites came not from the administrative centre at Gibeah; rather, it came from the centre at Ramah 68 – this as though Saul owed it to the centre at Ramah for him to be king. King Saul went out against 66

67 68

For Campbell, the narrative of Saul’s rejection for his failure to wait for Samuel originated from the same prophetic circle that placed emphasis on Saul being a “king-designate” (‫)נָגִ יד‬, with Samuel having the prophetic authority to bestow and to withdraw royalty (Campbell, 1 Samuel, 137–138). Jobling, 1 Samuel, 86. Emphasis in original. As Middleton also notes, Samuel’s instruction to Saul to go to war against Amalek is suspect. There is no prior indication whether Samuel got such instruction from YHWH or if it is from Samuel’s own initiative. Furthermore, given Samuel’s treatment prior to the war against Amalek, it should be viewed as Samuel’s attempt “to keep Saul under his thumb, subject to the prophetic will” (Middleton, “Samuel Agonistes,” 80).

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the Amalekites, and won the battle. But instead of killing the Amalekite king, Agag, he brought him back as his battle trophy, together with some of the best livestock and possessions. The celebration is short lived, however, as the centre at Ramah seemed always to find fault with what the centre at Gibeah did. The centre at Gibeah was denounced as rebellious, not heeding the word of YHWH. Therefore, YHWH has rejected Saul as king (1 Sam 15:22– 23, 25–26). Furthermore, Samuel’s robe is torn when Saul tries to hold on to Samuel in an attempt to persuade him to accompany him to complete the victory walk. This act presages the future loss of the kingdom of Saul. In addition, Samuel slays Agag, king of the Amalekites, removing any chance of salvaging glory from Saul. The tensions between the two centres of power have reached their zenith. Thereafter, they cannot work together moving forward. The text hints at the decisive break between the two centres: “Then Samuel went to Ramah; and Saul went up to his house in Gibeah of Saul. And Samuel did not see Saul again until the day of his death” (1 Sam 15:34–35). As Middleton points out, “The tragedy of Samuel is in large part the tragedy of his inability to accept God’s choice of Saul and live accordingly.” 69 Following the war against the Amalekites, the competition between the two escalated to new levels. It was not simply going to be a matter of the two centres not working together – by anointing David as king (an act that is anticipated by the Hannah song), Samuel was acting as a facilitator of a coup d’état. The close relationship between Samuel and David highlights this: when David was on the run from Saul he found refuge in Ramah with Samuel (1 Sam 19:8). The text’s insistence that “all Israel” attended Samuel’s funeral suggests that even David may have been in attendance during a momentary truce. But if so, David departed for Paran immediately afterward (1 Sam 25:1). Thus, it was the failure of Samuel to accept that the people no longer wanted him nor his sons to lead them further and YHWH’s endorsement of the people’s request which led to his resentment of Saul as king and even orchestrating Saul’s downfall. In his capacity as kingmaker, Samuel anointed two people as king – Saul and David. Yet, the kingdom of Israel as it is described within 1 Samuel only had one king – Saul. The book ends with a situation of a kingdom without a king: Saul and his son Jonathan die in a battle against the Philistines. This failure of power was anticipated at the beginning of the book by the death of Eli and his sons, Hophni and Phineas. The reader is left to ponder whether Saul’s dynasty will die out altogether or will it somehow be resurrected, just as Eli’s dynasty continued to live on? With regard to the figure of Samuel, Leuchter notes, “When one looks at the Gestalt of Samuel’s literary depiction, he is liminal, standing in the space between diverse theological and political polarities, yet engaging them at various turns in the narrative.” 70 Samuel, however, also stands as a symbol repre69 70

Middleton, “Samuel Agonistes,” 91. Emphasis in original. Leuchter, Samuel and the Shaping of Tradition, 6.

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senting the Joseph tribes through the tribe of Ephraim – but this tribe, too, failed to secure the Ark of covenant within its borders and to attain kingship. In highlighting David’s replacement of Saul, 1 Samuel participates in an ideology that views David’s rise to kingship as an outflow of YHWH’s direct rejection of the tribe of Benjamin. This stands in contrast to Ps 78:67–68, which portrays the rise of David as a rejection of the northern shrine, Shiloh, and the Joseph tribe. In particular, Ps 78 seems to assume Ephraim’s legitimate claim to the kingship: “He rejected the tent (or shrine; ‫ )אהל‬of Joseph, he did not choose the tribe (or rod ‫ )שׁבט‬of Ephraim” (Ps 78:67). 71 Accordingly, YHWH rejected Ephraim, but passed over Benjamin, and delivered the kingdom into the hands of Judah. In contrast, the people’s rejection of Samuel as it is narrated by 1 Samuel 8 may be framed as an anthropocentric restatement of the Psalm: in asking for a king, the people did indeed reject the tent of Joseph; but instead of God’s choice of Judah, they first chose the tribe of Benjamin. The anthropocentric portrayal of the ascendancy of Saul (as a metonym for Benjamin) is thus contrasted with the rise of David, who is characterized as “a man after YHWH’s heart” (see 1 Sam 13:14).

4.

Remarks on Context and Conclusion

1 Samuel 1–8 as a self-contained text with intertextual linkages extending both backward and forward recounts the failure of two judgeship dynasties: Eli’s and Samuel. The failure of each of these dynasties is pinned on their prospective successors: neither Eli’s sons nor Samuel’s sons are viewed as fitting inheritors of their fathers’ office. The two judges, Eli and Samuel, do receive a positive picture. The question posed by these chapters thus regards the continuity, effectiveness, and durability of leadership: can the inauguration of the monarchy turn out any differently? or will the same failures plague the children of the kings, such that the monarchy becomes only more of the same? These questions occasion a further question, external to the narrative. We must ask, what is the context within which 1 Sam 1–8 originated? It would seem that the negative portrayal of the dynastic judgeship – and, subsequently, of the monarchy – means that the northern kingdom of Israel was already a thing of the past, destroyed at the hands of the Assyrians. Likewise, the Babylonian exile had brought an end to the remaining kingdom of Judah. During the post-exilic period, Yehud was a mere province of the Persian empire. If 1 Sam 1–8 is thus read as emerging from a post-monarchic context – as part of a broader literary 71

The tradition of Ephraim’s position of prominence is projected as pre-Davidic, and it is this tradition that should have influenced the reestablishment of the Northern Kingdom with Jeroboam, an Ephraimite.

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complex extending from Genesis or, at least, Deuteronomy to Kings, and dating to sometime after 586 BCE – it reveals Israel’s thinking about the past and how that past affected the present. 72 The period of judges is viewed as a period which gave rise to the two polities. If they are evaluated on the basis of Eli’s “scoundrel” sons and Samuel’s sons who fail to administer justice properly, both were failed kingdoms. Having some successful leaders, such as Jerubbaal, Barak, Jephthah, Samuel (to use Samuel’s list – 1 Sam 12:11), does not necessarily translate to successful dynasties. For Frolov, the perspective projected in 1 Samuel 1–8 is that of the Judean population that remained in the land while the elites were deported to exile in Babylon – a population which, Frolov contends, is for the most part ignored in biblical texts. 73 According to this argument, the population that remained retained their identity and continued with their worship. They did so, however, not at the central cultic site at Jerusalem, but instead they worshipped at local shrines. In contrast to Frolov’s argument, however, I contend that these chapters may have been confronting the exclusivist ideology in Ezra-Nehemiah by projecting the beginnings of monarchy as one that originated from the north. However, the current reality for those who composed the text was that of failed dynasties – dynasties that were marred by the activities of scoundrels and the failure to administer justice. Furthermore, the Samuel narrative is not opposed to the regional sanctuaries in addition to Shiloh, which functioned as a central shrine for “all Israel.” At the sanctuaries, it was not just the Levitical priests who performed priestly duties – Samuel, an Ephraimite, also functions as a priest. 74 1 Samuel 1–8 is not committed to Deuteronomy’s ideology of centralization of the cult and a monopoly simply by the Levitical priests. In addition, worship continued in the sanctuaries even with the absence of the Ark of the covenant in the hill country of Ephraim. The returnees from exile and those who did not go to exile differed ideologically on various issues, including the rebuilding of the central shrine, the temple in Jerusalem. In turn, this disagreement would have impinged upon the proper role of cult centralization. As Blenkinsopp notes, Moses addresses a people poised to enter the land, and the requirement for cult centralization fits the much reduced dimensions of NeoBabylonian or early Persian Yehud better than the kingdom of Judah. This said, the influence of Deuteronomic theology on EzraNehemiah is pervasive. The prayers are Deuteronomic in language and theme, and the law which Ezra was commissioned to enforce was basically Deuteronomistic. 75

It comes as no surprise that Ezra had to rely on the Persian empire to enforce the new order on the dissenters: “Whoever does not obey the law of your God and the law of the king must surely be punished by death, banishment, confis72 73 74 75

See Wilson, Kingship and Memory, 19. Frolov, The Turn of the Cycle, 193–194. See Olyan, “Religious Personnel: Israel,” 298; Leuchter, “‘The Levite in Your Gates’,” 417–436. Blenkinsopp, Judaism, the First Phase, 125.

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cation of property, or imprisonment” (Ezra 7:26). 1 Samuel 1–8 should, I suggest, be viewed as presenting a dissenting ideology of those who wanted to continue with the cultic rituals at the local shrines, and who likely wanted to avoid the financial burden of temple taxes levied in order to maintain the cultic centre and the monopoly of the Levitical priests. The characterization of 1 Samuel 1–8 as either pro-Saul or pro-David is immaterial. The narrative concerning the birth of Samuel anticipates the rise of Saul, a Benjamite; while that may be viewed as a pro-Saul perspective, it also reflects anti-Saul perspective in favour of Samuel, an Ephraimite. In its present form, the narrative relating the birth of Samuel defers the grand entrance of Israel’s first king, Saul. The song of Hannah and the gradual move of the Ark of covenant from Shiloh to Philistine territory and finally to Kiriath Jearim, which is within Judahite territory, anticipate the rise of David. 1 Samuel 1–8 thus anticipates the rise of two kings: Saul and David. Neither king is given a grand entrance through a fantastic birth narrative – instead, each is appointed and anointed as king by the hand of the prophet Samuel. Neither is able to claim to kingship through birth-right; rather, each makes the claim to kingship through contest. Like any other ancient Near Eastern ruler, each wanted to establish his own dynasty; however, the failure of the preceding judgeship dynasties anticipated the eventual failures of both the Israelite and Judahite dynasties. The struggle for leadership between Benjamin and Judah likely continued during the Persian period; 76 however, this conflict did not amount to a resuscitation of the monarchy. In the end, neither Ephraim nor Benjamin nor Judah secured an eternal dynasty; rather, it was the Levitical priests who were successful in securing their own dynasty, centering power on the chief priest in the postexilic period. There is currently an impasse over who is the rightful person to sit on the Vhavenḓa throne. Although 1 Samuel 1–8 presents a negative outlook on the future, my hope for the monarch is that this impasse will soon be resolved once and for all – or, at least, for some time. In the meantime, whether vhuhosi vhu naka u tou bebelwa or vhuhosi vhu tou lwelwa, the one who currently sits on the throne claims it as his. 76

For Edelman, the continuing conflict between Benjamin and Judah during the Persian period had as its backdrop the exile in 586 BCE. For Edelman, most of those who did not go to exile resided in Benjamite territory, and would have favoured a Saulide leader to be a governor during the Persian period. While on the other hand, the golah community favoured a Davidic leader, as some of them were descendants of the Jerusalem court elite (Edelman “Did SaulideDavidic Rivalry Resurface in Early Persian Yehud?,” 73–91). For Amit, 1–2 Samuel narrates a story of conflict between the house of Saul and the house of David set in the eleventh and tenth century BCE, while also echoing the conflict recurring during the Persian Period. During the Persian period, as Amit argues, there were some efforts from the Benjamite population to revive their own leadership considering their relative strength and disappointment with the house of David. Furthermore, Amit argues that the rivalry continued until the late Persian period, on the basis of the pro-Saul polemic in the book of Esther (Amit, “The Saul Polemic in the Persian Period,” 647–661).

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Bibliography Amit, Yairah. “The Saul Polemic in the Persian Period.” Pages 647–661 in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period. Edited by Oded Lipschits and Manfred Oeming; Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2006. ________. “Am I Not More Devoted to You Than Ten Sons? (1 Samuel 1:8): Male and Female Interpretations.” Pages 68–76 in Feminist Companion to Samuel-Kings. Edited by Athalya Brenner-Idan. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994. ________. “The Literature in the Service of Politics: Studies in Judges 19–21.” Pages 28–40 in Politics and Theopolitics in the Bible. Edited by H. G. Reventlow, Yair Hoffman, and Benjamin Uffenheimer. JSOTSup 171. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1994. Auld, Graeme. I & II Samuel: A Commentary. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011. ________. Samuel at the Threshold: Selected Works of Graeme Auld. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004. Avioz, Michael. “The Literary Structure of the Books of Samuel: Setting the Stage for a Coherent Reading.” Currents in Biblical Research 16/1 (2017): 8–33. Baden, Joel. The Historical David: The Real Life of an Invented Hero. New York: HarperOne, 2013. Becker, Uwe. Richterzeit und Königtum: Redaktionsgeschichtliche Studein zum Richterbuch. BZAW 192. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1990. Birch, Bruce C. The Rise of the Israelite Monarchy: The Growth and Development of 1 Samuel 7–15. SBLDS 27. Missoula: Scholars Press, 1976. Blenkinsopp, Joseph. Judaism, the First Phase: The Place of Ezra and Nehemiah in the Origins of Judaism. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009. ________. A History of Prophecy in Israel. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1983. Brettler, Marc Zvi. “The Composition of 1 Samuel 1–2.” Journal of Biblical Literature 116 (1997): 601– 612. ________. “The Book of Judges, Literature as Politics.” Journal of Biblical Literature 108 (1989): 395–418. Brueggemann, Walter. Deuteronomy. Nashville: Abingdon, 2001. Callaway, Mary. Sing, O Barren One: A Study in Comparative Midrash. SBLDS 91. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1986. Campbell, Antony F. 1 Samuel. The Forms of the Old Testament Literature 7. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003. ________. The Ark Narrative (1 Samuel 4–6; 2 Sam 6): A Form-Critical and Tradition-Historical Study. SBDLS 16. Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1975. Carasik, Michael. “Why Did Hannah Ask for ‘Seed of Men’?” Journal of Biblical Literature 129 (2010): 433–436. Cartledge, T. W. 1 & 2 Samuel. Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary. Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2001. Claburn, W. Eugene. “Fiscal Basis of Josiah’s Reforms.” Journal of Biblical Literature 92 (1973): 11–22. Cross, Frank M. Canaanite Myth and the Hebrew Epic: Essay in the History of the Religion of Israel. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1973. Davies, Philip R. “The Beginnings of the Kingdom of Judah.” Pages 54–61 in Israel in Transition 2: From Late Bronze II to Iron IIA (C. 1250–850 BCE): The Texts. Edited by Lester L. Grabbe. New York: T&T Clark, 2010. ________. The Origins of Biblical Israel. London: T&T Clark International, 2007. ________. “The History of the Ark in the Books of Samuel.” Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages 5 (1977): 9–18. Dietrich, Walter. “Die Samuelbücher.” Pages 232–259 in Die Entstehung des Alten Testaments. Edited by Walter Dietrich, Hans-Peter Mathys, Thomas Römer. Theologische Wissenschaft 1. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2014. ________. The Early Monarchy in Israel: The Tenth Century B.C.E. Leiden: Brill, 2007. ________. David, Saul und die Propheten. Das Verhältnis von Religion und Politik nach den prophetischen Überlieferungen vom frühesten Königtum in Israel. BWANT 122. Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1987. Edenburg, Cynthia. Dismembering the Whole: Composition and Purpose of Judges 19–21. Ancient Israel and Its Literature 24. Atlanta: SBL Press, 2016.

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Eslinger, Lyle M. Kingship of God in Crisis: A Close Reading of 1 Samuel 1–12. JSOTSup 39. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1985. Finkelstein, Israel and Neil Asher Silberman. David and Solomon: In Search of the Bible’s Sacred Kings and the Roots of the Western Tradition. New York: Free Press, 2006. Fleming, Daniel E. The Legacy of Israel in Judah’s Bible: History, Politics, and the Reinscribing of Tradition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012. Fokkelman, J. P. Narrative Art and Poetry in the Books of Samuel: A Full Interpretation Based on Stylistic and Structural Analyses. Volume IV: Vow and Desire (I Sam. 1–12). Assen: van Gorcum, 1993. Frolov, Serge. Judges. FOTL. Grand Rapid: Eerdmans, 2013. ________. “The Man of God and the Deuteronomist: Anti-Deuteronomistic Polemics in 1 Sam 2,27–36.” Scandavian Journal of the Old Testament 25 (2011): 58–76. ________. The Turn of the Cycle: 1 Samuel 1–8 in Synchronic and Diachronic Perspectives. BZAW 342. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2004. Fuchs, Esther. “The Literary Characterization of Mothers and Sexual Politics in the Hebrew Bible.” Pages 117–136 in Feminist Perspectives on Biblical Scholarship. Edited by Adela Y. Collins. SBLCP 10. Chico: Scholars Press, 1985. Giffone, Benjamin. ‘Sit at My Right Hand’: The Chronicler’s Portrait of the Tribe of Benjamin in the Social Context of Yehud. LHBOTS 628. New York: Bloomsbury, 2016. Gray, John. Joshua, Judges and Ruth. NCB. London: Oliphants, 1967. Gutmann, Joseph. “The History of the Ark.” Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 83 (1971): 22–30. Hertzberg, Hans W. I & II Samuel: A Commentary. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1976. Hutzli, Jürg. “The Distinctiveness of the Samuel Narrative Tradition.” Pages 171–205 in Is Samuel Among the Deuteronomists? Current Views on the Place of Samuel in a Deuteronomistic History. Edited by Cynthia Edenburg and Juha Pakkala. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013. Ishida, Tomoo. The Royal Dynasties in Ancient Israel: A Study on the Formation and Development of RoyalDynastic Ideology. BZAW 142. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1977. Jobling, David. 1 Samuel. Berit Olam: Studies in Hebrew Narrative & Poetry. Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1998. Kang, Sa-Moon. Divine War in the Old Testament and in the Ancient Near East. BZAW 177. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1989. Klein, R. W. 1 Samuel. WBC 10. Waco: Word Books, 1983. Lambert, Wilfred G. “Kingship in Ancient Mesopotamia.” Pages 54–70 in King and Messiah in Israel and the Ancient Near East: Proceedings of the Oxford Old Testament Seminar. Edited by John Day. JSOTSup 270. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998. ________. “The Seed of Kingship.” Pages 427–400 in Le Palais et al Royaute. Edited by P. Garelli. XIXe Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale. Paris: Geuthner, 1974. Leuchter, Mark. Samuel and the Shaping of Tradition. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013. ________. “‘The Levite in Your Gates’: The Deuteronomic Redefinition of Levitical Authority.” Journal of Biblical Literature 126 (2007): 417–436. ________. “Jeroboam the Ephratite.” Journal of Biblical Literature 125 (2006): 51–72. McCarter, P. Kyle. 1 Samuel. AB 8. Garden City: Doubleday, 1980. Merkur, Dan. “Biblical Terrorism.” Pages 55–79 in A Cry instead of Justice: The Bible and Cultures of Violence in Psychological Perspectives. New York: T&T Clark, 2010. Meyers, Carol. “The Hannah Narrative in Feminist Perspective.” Pages 117–126 in Go to the Land I Will Show You: Studies in Honor of Dwight W. Young. Edited by Joseph E. Coleson and Victor H. Matthews. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1996. Middleton, J. Richard. “Samuel Agonistes: A Conflicted Prophet’s Resistance to God and Contribution to the Failure of Israel’s First King.” Pages 69–91 in Prophets, Prophecy, and Ancient Israelite Historiography. Edited by Mark J. Boda and Lissa M. Wray Beal. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2013. Milstein, Sara J. Tracking the Master Scribe: Revision through Introduction in Biblical and Mesopotamian Literature. New York: Oxford Univeristy Press, 2016. Nakanose, Shigeyuki. Josiah’s Passover: Sociology and the Liberating Bible. Maryknoll: Orbis, 1993.

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Nelson, Richard D. “The Deuteronomist Historian in Samuel: ‘The Man Behind the Green Curtain.’” Pages 17–37 in Is Samuel Among the Deuteronomists? Current Views on the Place of Samuel in a Deuteronomistic History. Edited by Cynthia Edenburg and Juha Pakkala. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013. Noll, K. L. Canaan and Israel in Antiquity: A Textbook on History and Religion. 2nd edition. London: Bloomsbury, 2013. Noth, Martin. The Deuteronomistic History. 2nd ed. JSOTSup 15. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1991. ________. Das System der zwölf Stämme Israel. 2nd ed. Darmstadt: Wissenschafliche Buchgesellschaft, 1966. Olyan, Saul M. “Religious Personnel: Israel.” Pages 296–298 in Religions of the Ancient World: A Guide. Edited by Sarah Iles Johnston. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2004. Polzin, Robert. Samuel and the Deuteronomist: A Literary Study of the Deuteronomic History. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1989. Rendtorff, Rolf. Canon and Theology: Overtures to an Old Testament Theology. Overtures of Biblical Theology; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993. Römer, Thomas and Albert de Pury. “Deuteronomistic Historiography (DH): History of Research and Debated Issues.” Pages 24–41 in Israel Constructs Its History: Deuteronomistic Historiography in Recent Research. Edited by Albert de Pury, Thomas Römer, and Jean-Daniel Macchi. JSOTSup 306. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2000. Schley, Donald G. Shiloh: A Biblical City in Tradition and History. JSOTSup 62. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1989. Spina, Frank A. “Eli’s Seat: The Transition from Priest to Prophet in 1 Samuel 1–4.” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 16 (1994): 67–75. Stipp, Hermann-Josef. “Richter 19: Ein frühes Beispiel schriftgestützter politischer Propaganda in Israel.” Page 127–164 in Ein Herz so weit wie der Sand am Ufer des Meeres: Festschrift für Georg Hentschel. Edited by Susanne Gillmayr-Bucher, Annett Giercke-Ungermann, and Christiana Niessen. Würzburg: Echter, 2006. von Rad, Gerhard. Deuteronomy: A Commentary. OTL. Philadephia: Westminster, 1966. Weber, Max. Economy and Society. Edited by Guenther Roth and Claus Wittich. Translated by Ephraim Fischoff et al. 2 vols. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1978. Weiser, A. Samuel: Seine geschichtliche Aufgabe und religiöse Bedeutung. Traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zu I. Samuel 7–12. FRLANT 81. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1962. Wellhausen, Julius. Der Text der Bücher Samuelis. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1871. Wénin, A. Samuel et l’instauration de la monarchie (1 S 1–12). Une recherche littéraire sur le personage. Bern: Peter Lang, 1988. White, Marsha C. “Saul and Jonathan in 1 Samuel 1 and 14.” Pages 119–138 in Saul in Story and Tradition. Edited by Carl S. Ehrlich and Marsha C. White. FAT 47. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006. ________. “‘History of Saul’s Rise’: Saulide Propaganda in 1 Samuel 1–14.” Pages 271–292 in A Wise and Discerning Mind: Essays in Honor of Burke O. Long. Edited by Saul M. Oyan and Robert C. Culley. Brown Judaic Studies 325. Providence: Brown University Press, 2000. Willis, John T. “Cultic Elements in the Story of Samuel’s Birth and Dedication.” Studia Theologica: Nordic Journal of Theology 26 (1972): 33–61. ________. “An Anti-Elide Narrative Tradition from a Prophetic Circle at the Ramah Sanctuary.” Journal of Biblical Literature 90 (1971): 288–308. Wilson, Ian D. Kingship and Memory in Ancient Judah. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017. Yee, Gale A. “Ideological Criticism: Judges 17–21 and the Dismembered Body.” Pages 138–160 in Judges and Method: New Approaches in Biblical Studies. Edited by Gale A. Yee. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2007.

A Pre-Deuteronomistic Narrative Underlying the “Antimonarchic Narrative” (1 Sam 8; 10*; 12) and Its Reuse in Thomas Paine’s Common Sense* Jeremy M. Hutton

Summary Thomas Paine, an American writer who worked during the Revolutionary War, appealed to two passages from the book of 1 Samuel (1 Sam 8:20; 10:18–21) in his anti-royalist pamphlet Common Sense (1776). This article situates Paine’s usage of these passages, and performs a redaction-critical analysis of the entire account regarding the institution of the monarchy in Israel (1 Sam 8 + 10:17–27 + 12). In this study, I argue that an earlier, pre-Deuteronomistic narrative underlies Wellhausen’s so-called “antimonarchic” story. The contours – and, indeed, much of the original storyline – can be traced by excising the explicitly Deuteronomistic (Dtr1/DtrG and Dtr2/DtrN) material and attending to continuities of narration. I reconstruct a narrative in which the elders of Israel come to Samuel at Ramah, demanding a king to provide greater continuity of leadership. Although he views it as a rejection of YHWH, Samuel grants their wishes that day, bringing the elders forward and delivering an oracle (now lost) identifying the tallest individual as the new king. Finally, he asks the elders to absolve him of any wrong-doing. This story likely capped off a Retterbuch, comprised of several preDeuteronomistic episodes from Judges. Although Paine’s insights can be useful in a synchronic reading of 1 Samuel, he has drawn his prooftexts from material that is shown to belong to a secondary, redactional layer. Thomas Paine, ein amerikanischer Schriftsteller, der während des Revolutionskrieges wirkte, berief sich in seiner anti-royalistischen Schrift Common Sense (1776) auf zwei Passagen aus dem 1. Samuelbuch (1 Sam 8,20; 10,18-21). Mein Beitrag greift Paines Verwendung dieser Passagen auf und führt eine redaktionskritische Analyse des gesamten Berichts über die Institution der Monarchie in Israel durch (1 Sam 8 + 10,17-27 + 12). Ich argumentiere, dass Wellhausens sogenannter “anti-monarchischer” Geschichte eine frühere, vor-deuteronomistische Erzählung zugrunde liegt. Die Umrisse – und in der Tat ein Großteil der ursprünglichen Erzählung – lassen sich nachvollziehen, indem man das explizit deuteronomistische (Dtr1/DtrG und Dtr2/DtrN) Material herauslöst und auf die Kontinuitäten der Erzählung achtet. Ich rekonstruiere eine Erzählung, in der die Ältesten Israels zu Samuel in Rama kommen und von einem König eine größere Kontinuität der Führung fordern. Obwohl er dies als eine Ablehnung JHWHs betrachtet, erfüllt Samuel an diesem Tag ihre Wünsche und übermit*

This study has its genesis in a paper that was originally presented as J. M. Hutton, “1 Sam 7–15 as Nexus of a Judges–Kings Literary Complex” (Philology in Hebrew Studies & Ugaritic Studies and Northwest Semitic Epigraphy sections; SBL Annual Meeting, Nov. 27, 2017). The earlier paper underlies scattered portions of sections 3 and 4, in particular. I thank Na’ama Pat-el for the invitation to contribute to that venue. Sara Kipfer and Daniel McClellan have kindly read sections of the paper and offered their insights; their contributions are acknowledged below. The research for this paper was completed with financial assistance granted by the Romnes Faculty Fellowship (UW–Madison), project #AAG5776. Finally, this essay is dedicated to my Doktormutter, Jo Ann Hackett.

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telt ein (nicht mehr erhaltenes) Orakel, das die größte Person als den neuen König identifiziert. Schließlich bittet er die Ältesten, ihn von jeglichem Fehlverhalten freizusprechen. Diese Geschichte beendete wahrscheinlich ein Retterbuch, das mehrere vor-deuteronomistische Episoden von Richtern enthält. Obwohl Paines Erkenntnisse bei einer synchronen Lektüre von 1. Samuel nützlich sein können, hat er seine Belegtexte aus Material gezogen, das nachweislich zu einer sekundären, redaktionellen Schicht gehört.

1.

Introduction

In the small town of Bordentown, New Jersey, at the end of Prince Street overlooking the confluence of Crosswicks Creek and the Delaware River, stands a bronze statue. An inscription on the front of the statue’s pedestal identifies the figure as a famous American pamphleteer of the Revolutionary War period: THOMAS PAINE 1737–1809 FATHER OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION While the title may seem overly grandiose to some, there is some truth to it. Paine was the author of the short tractate, Common Sense, which was distributed widely throughout the thirteen American colonies in the months leading up to the declaration of American Independence from Great Britain. 1 The pamphlet couched its revolutionary fervor and antimonarchist agenda as a matter of “common sense” that could be grasped by any educated person capable of reading the treatise. Paine hoped thereby to motivate his fellow colonials to reject the intolerable situation that was being imposed on them by the government of King George III and to galvanize their willingness to take up arms in response. Over the course of the preceding year, the conflict had evolved from a couple of minor skirmishes – especially a British raid on colonial leaders and supplies in Lexington and Concord, Massachusetts – into a more protracted period of hostilities. 2 Framed by the deteriorating relationship between Great Britain and her American colonies, Common Sense produced Paine’s desired response: the Continental Congress declared American independence in July of the same year. By December of 1776 the British had taken New York as far as Fort Washington, at the northern end of Manhattan, and had crossed the Hudson River, taking Fort Lee and pursuing the revolutionary army across New Jersey. 3 The Revolutionary War had begun in earnest. Common Sense may strike the modern reader as a somewhat meandering tractate. It moves back and forth between, on the one hand, theoretical reflec1 2 3

See, e.g., John Dos Passos’s “Presenting Thomas Paine,” 12. For an accessible account of the events leading to the Revolutionary War, see, e.g., Ketchum, Winter Soldiers, 1–84. Ketchum, Winter Soldiers, esp. 84–139.

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tions over such matters as society and government and, on the other, more practical imprecations against the British monarchy and pragmatic ruminations on economic exchange. The rhetoric is simultaneously high-handed and bombastic; its declamatory idiom both studiously precise and ineffably vague. At the center of this effusive manifesto, however, one senses an inextricable dependence on the major political thinkers of the Enlightenment – Locke, Hobbes, Rousseau – and, in perhaps somewhat smaller measure, on the biblical text. It is on the latter dependence – and specifically, Paine’s allusions to the Book of Samuel – that the present study focuses. Insofar as Common Sense may be viewed as a foundational document of the United States, the tractate served to inject the dual principles of anti-authoritarianism and rejection of hereditary leadership into American life at its very foundation. Thus, in order to understand the deeply-rooted tradition of antimonarchical sentiments in the United States, it is essential to explore more fully the reception history of the biblical text – and to tease out the various threads of its composition. The antipathy shown towards monarchy in 1 Sam 8 and 10 – and, subsequently, embedded in Common Sense – remains at the intellectual foundations of the United States’ political ethos. Nevertheless, I also hope to problematize the facile reading of these chapters as simply “antimonarchic.” Since Julius Wellhausen first divided 1 Sam 7–15 into a “promonarchic” and an “antimonarchic” source, biblical scholars have debated the authorial intent behind these chapters, and whether that intent has been preserved in the received form(s) of the book. 4 Clearly, much material that can reasonably be qualified as “promonarchic” remains in the received text. Likewise, certain passages – especially those to which Paine alluded in Common Sense – signal at the minimum a severe distrust of an autonomous monarchy, unbridled by the interventions of a prophet-class. In this study, I will show that the underlying story and the redactional strata that produced the sections Paine cited were, in fact, perhaps not so antimonarchic as Wellhausen initially assumed. As A.D.H. Mayes has opined, the overall tenor of the putative “antimonarchic” sections is considerably more ambivalent than was initially argued by Wellhausen. 5 It is precisely this prophet-class, tasked with overseeing, validating, and restraining the monarchy, that created a more ambivalent picture of early Israel’s monarchic institutions than many scholars have realized. Thus, I will show that Paine has struck, unwittingly, to the very heart of the matter in his creative reuse of the episodes of Samuel’s warning against the monarchy (1 Sam 8) and Saul’s selection by lot (1 Sam 10:17–27). Paine’s pre-modern, Enlightenment-era rejection of authoritarianism and hereditary leadership on the basis of 1 Sam 8 and 10:17–27 can help modern biblical scholars to sharpen our own focus on the essential and ambivalent Tendenzen of the text. 4 5

Wellhausen, Prolegomena, 247–256. Mayes, Story of Israel, 85–90; see also McKenzie, “Trouble”.

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Paine’s Allusions to Monarchic Discourses in Common Sense

The recent burgeoning of reception-historical work has greatly increased modern biblical critics’ appreciation of the biblical text’s effects throughout the broader history of interpretation. Several important studies have appeared recently exploring the manifold interpretations of 1–2 Samuel during the Renaissance, Reformation, and Baroque periods. 6 One of the most important studies in the present context is N. L. DeLapp’s examination of several Reformed Christian responses to monarchy in the wake of the Reformation. DeLapp reviews various 16th and 17th-century theologians’ views on the appropriate submission to earthly authority (John Calvin, Theodore Beza, the anonymous author of Het Wilhelmus, Andrew Willet, and Samuel Rutherford). 7 DeLapp demonstrates that each author presents a slightly divergent picture of David’s carriage with respect to Saul, with Calvin and Willet stressing David’s passive suffering during his years on the lam and the three others stressing David’s resistance to the mounting tyranny of Saul. Yet despite the differing portrayals of David that DeLapp traces in these authors’ works, they all share in common the acceptance that the monarchy was a legitimate, God-given institution. 8 This perspective would not endure. Thomas Paine, like his predecessors, was working without the benefit of modern historical-critical biblical study (and especially of the composition-historical criticism pioneered by Abraham Kuenen and Wellhausen). 9 But Paine was not working within the same Reformed theological tradition, even though he frequently alluded to the biblical text to make his points with regard to the depredations inflicted by the British monarchy. His ruminations on the biblical text were therefore less influenced by the confessional principles informing earlier interpreters, and his historical milieu occasioned an even more critical stance towards the British monarchy than did Rutherford’s. 10 Steeped as he was in the traditions of the Enlightenment – and justifiably unaware of the future developments in biblical “literary” criticism – Paine’s usage of the biblical text would be 6 7 8

9

10

See, e.g., DeLapp, Reformed David(s); Kipfer, Der bedrohte David; Dowling-Long, “‘Why Weepest Thou?’” DeLapp, Reformed David(s). Earlier political treatises had recognized the fundamental legitimacy of the monarchic form of government; see, e.g., de Spinoza, Tractatus Theologico-Politicus; Hobbes, Leviathan; and Leibnitz, Theodicée. I am indebted to Sara Kipfer for this observation and these references. As Sara Kipfer reminds me, historical-critical investigation of the Bible had begun already by the 17th century, when interpreters publicly recognized that lengthy processes of formation lay behind many of the biblical books (see, e.g., Bayle, Dictionnaire historique; Simon, Histoire critique; Le Clerc, Sentiments). Again, I am indebted to Kipfer for this observation and the sources. For a summary of Rutherford’s critical stance vis-à-vis the monarchy, see DeLapp, Reformed David(s), 132–164.

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considered in today’s academy to have been insufficiently cautious about attributing historicity to the events narrated in the books of Judges and 1–2 Samuel. Moreover, like his Enlightenment counterparts in Britain and France, Paine attributes a rustic innocence to the Israelite Patriarchs: “for the quiet and rural lives of the first Patriarchs have a happy something in them, which vanishes when we come to the history of Jewish royalty.” 11 Although this brief mention appears to skip over the period of the Judges, subsequent passages clarify that he was well aware of the larger narrative flow of early Israel’s Primary History. More problematic, perhaps, is the (often Orientalizing) assumption that the early Israelites embodied the primitive innocence of early humanity – which later evolved into the famed “noble savage.” The same assumption is made in other works of Paine’s oeuvre as well: in Agrarian Justice, for example, Paine insists that landed property (i.e., property ownership) “did not exist in the second state [of humanity’s development; JMH], that of shepherds: neither Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, nor Job, so far as the history of the Bible may be credited in probable things, were owners of land.” 12 Insofar as Paine viewed societies as progressing through discrete stages of social organization and complexity, his philosophy partakes of the stadialism popular at the time (not to mention subsequent periods as well). 13 The virtuousness of this primitive society, however, was corrupted after Israel had entered the land of Canaan: “Government by kings was first introduced into the world by heathens, from whom the children of Israel copied the custom.” 14 This interpretation of the request by Israel’s elders to Samuel that he should “establish for us a king to lead us, like all the nations ( ‫ִשׂימָ ה־לָּנוּ מֶ לֶ� לְ שָׁ פְ טֵ נוּ‬ ‫( ”)כְּ כָל־הַ גּוֹ יִם‬1 Sam 8:5b) accurately understands the text’s insistence that the institution of the monarchy is an external innovation. But Paine’s reading adds to that the Enlightenment-era understanding of the institution of the monarchy as a fall from primordial grace. Paine further criticizes the institution of monarchy as a form of idolatry: It was the most prosperous invention the devil ever set on foot for the promotion of idolatry. The heathens paid divine honors to their deceased kings, and the Christian world has improved on the plan by doing the same to their living ones. How impious is the title of sacred majesty applied to a worm, who in the midst of his splendor is crumbling into dust! 15

11 12 13

14 15

Paine, Common Sense, 60. Throughout this study, I have cited the page numbers of Paine’s works according to the collection edited by Dos Passos (The Essential Thomas Paine). Paine, Agrarian Justice, 164. For a brief primer on the pervasiveness of stadialist philosophies in the early history of the United States, see Holowchak, “Differences”. I am grateful to Daniel McClellan for pointing this reference out to me. Paine, Common Sense, 60. Paine, Common Sense, 60.

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Corresponding with the unjustified and unrighteous exaltation of a human king is the concomitant “degradation and lessening of ourselves.” 16 To this critique of monarchy as idolatry, Paine adds a second one: the notion that hereditary succession is “an insult and imposition on posterity.” 17 He first bases this claim on the experience that good kings are all too frequently followed by less adequate leaders: “One of the strongest natural proofs of the folly of hereditary rights in kings, is that nature disapproves of it, otherwise she would not so frequently turn it into ridicule, by giving mankind an ass for a lion.” 18 But the second reason for dismissing hereditary succession is couched as an allusion to Judges 8:22–23: Secondly, as no man at first could possess any other public honors than were bestowed upon him, so the givers of those honors could have no power to give away the right of posterity, and though they might say “We choose you for our head,” they could not without manifest injustice to their children say “that your children and your children’s children shall reign over ours for ever.” 19

The moral impertinence of deciding upon a governmental system for future generations returned as a significant trope in Paine’s 1791 treatise, Rights of Man: Every age and generation must be as free to act for itself, in all cases, as the ages and generations which preceded it. The vanity and presumption of governing beyond the grave, is the most ridiculous and insolent of all tyrannies. 20

According to Paine, then, the institution of hereditary succession – especially in a monarchy – is a contradiction of the natural state of humanity, in which the consent of the governed cannot be given for one time only, but must continually be earned and maintained. It is here that Paine makes his first allusion to 1 Samuel in the argument of Common Sense. After a critique of the British monarchy, founded as it was by “[a] French bastard [i.e., William the Conqueror; JMH] landing with armed banditti and establishing himself king of England against the consent of the natives,” 21 Paine asks how the British and French suppose kings came at first? The question admits but of three answers, viz. either by lot, by election, or by usurpation. If the first king was taken by lot, it establishes a precedent for the next, which excludes hereditary succession. Saul was by lot, yet the succession was not hereditary, neither does it appear from the transaction that there was any intention it ever should. 22

16 17 18 19 20 21 22

Paine, Common Sense, 60. Paine, Common Sense, 60. Paine, Common Sense, 61 (italics original). Paine, Common Sense, 61. Paine, Rights of Man, 118 (italics original); see the full discussion extending through p. 120. Paine, Common Sense, 61. Paine, Common Sense, 62–63.

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In other words, insofar as the contemporary institution of monarchy was predicated upon the precedent set in the Old Testament, 23 one must look back to the very foundation of the Israelite monarchy (1 Sam 10:17–27). In so doing, however, Paine skips over three important observations that should be made from a synchronic reading of the text. First, it is almost selfevident that the biblical text envisions the expectation on the part of Saul that his son Jonathan would follow him on the throne (e.g., 1 Sam 20:30–31). Moreover, although Jonathan died fighting the Philistines on Mt. Gilboa (1 Sam 31:2, 6), this did not preclude an attempt by Saul’s agent, Abner, to carry through with a hereditary succession over the polity of Israel in the person of Ishbosheth (2 Sam 2:8–9). Indeed, the text seems at great pains to explain why it is that David was qualified to assume the crown to begin with. As many previous commentators have shown, Michal and Jonathan both act as “bridge-figures” for the transfer of the crown to David: the first by marriage (1 Sam 18:22–28), and the second by the designation and consent of the crown prince (1 Sam 18:4; 20:13–16; 23:16– 18). 24 Second, Paine ignores the clearly hereditary precedent set by the Davidic dynasty (regardless of whether the same principle motivated the transfer of power in the northern kingdom). 25 Implicitly, in his view, the hereditary transfer of power within the Davidic dynasty would have to be considered a secondary development of the Israelite-Judahite monarchy. Finally, the request of the Israelite elders that they should be given a king “like all the nations” (1 Sam 8:5b) would seem to assume that the Israelites themselves were requesting a hereditary kingship. 26 Beginning with the time of the text’s composition and extending through its authorization, there were plentiful models of such hereditary monarchies (at least ideally, if not in practice), from Egypt to Assyria, from Persia to the Seleucid and Ptolemaic dynasties. As we have seen above, Paine recognizes that the Israelites’ demand for a king is modeled on the foreign nations’ own systems of government. In some respects, then, this subsequent reference to the Israelite monarchy as the intellectual foundation of the European courts of the Enlightenment period deliberately omits the originally hereditary pre-Israelite origins of the monarchy. On all three counts, then, Paine’s rhetorical dismissal of the originally hereditary aspirations of the Israelite and Judahite monarchies seems to belie a plain-sense, synchronic reading of the text of Samuel, which patently seems to have envisioned the very possibility of a hereditary monarchy. Paine levels yet another charge against the institution of the monarchy; this indictment is also bolstered by a prooftext from 1 Samuel. Namely, he criticizes the British monarchy for not having any real task to which it was dedicated: 23 24 25 26

I use the term “Old Testament“ here rather than “Hebrew Bible“ in recognition of the largely Christian background assumed by the European courts of the late-18th century. Sakenfeld, “Loyalty,” 244; Hutton, Transjordanian Palimpsest, 240–245. See, for example, Thornton (“Charismatic Kingship”), who was responding to Alt (“Königtum”). Indeed, many biblical commentators (e.g., Hertzberg, I & II Samuel, 73) have reached similar conclusions.

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Jeremy M. Hutton If we inquire into the business of a king, we shall find that in some countries they may have none; and after sauntering away their lives without pleasure to themselves or advantage to the nation, withdraw from the scene, and leave their successors to tread the same idle round. In absolute monarchies the whole weight of business civil and military lies on the king; the children of Israel in their request for a king urged this plea, “that he may judge us, and go out before us and fight our battles.” But in countries where he is neither a judge nor a general, as in England, a man would be puzzled to know what is his business. 27

Kings, according to Paine, may be of two different kinds. The first kind, such as Israel’s, was commissioned with all sorts of duties – juridical and military functions among them (quoting 1 Sam 8:20). But he contrasts this view with the type of monarch found in contemporary England: a good-for-nothing layabout, who neither benefits the populace nor is able to enjoy life fully himself. The British monarch is so useless, charges Paine, that commoners cannot readily explain what his function actually is. As previously, Paine’s comparison of the British monarchy in general (and, implicitly, King George III in particular) to the Israelite kingship both touches on authentic representations of the monarch in the biblical text and obfuscates the accuracy of the comparison. It is true, for example, that the Israelite/Judahite monarch was ideally tasked with serving as the land’s highest court. This assumption is borne out in such episodes as David’s judgment in the matters of Nathan’s “parable” (2 Sam 12:1–6) and the wise woman of Tekoa (2 Sam 14:3–8), as well as Solomon’s judgment concerning the women and the living baby (1 Kgs 3:16–27). Indeed, Absalom wins support for his “rebellion” on his desire and willingness to mediate justice for the people (2 Sam 15:2–6). 28 Although the juxtaposition with David’s failure to punish Amnon after he had raped Tamar (2 Sam 13:1–22) remains only implicit in the text, Absalom’s juridical dedication comprises a poignant contrast to David’s intransigence. At the same time, however, it is not entirely clear that the term used in 1 Sam 8:5, ‫שׁפ״ט‬, usually translated “to judge”, conveys only the judicial overtones assumed by the translation. Although the received traditions of interpretations have conditioned us to think primarily in terms of juridical proceedings, it seems far more likely that the earliest uses of this lexical root have to do with both adjudication of disputes and military leadership. 29 359 F

27 28 29

Paine, Common Sense, 62–63. See, e.g., Tsumura, First Book, 249; Müller, Königtum, 62; and, more recently, Sanders, “Absalom’s Audience,” 519–530. E.g., Müller, Königtum, 62–64. Müller demonstrates that two different conceptions of the verbal action denoted by ‫ שׁפ״ט‬recur throughout the book of Judges: the concept is used with a primarily juridical conception in the cases of the minor judges Tola, Jair, Ibzan, Elon, and Abdon (10:2, 3; 12:8, 9, 11, 13, 14), but with the sense of military leadership in the descriptions of several of the major judges (Judg 3:10 [Othniel]; 4:4 [Deborah]; 12:7 [Jephthah]; 15:20 [Samson]); indeed, Müller compares the use of “deliverance” (‫ ישׁ״ע‬hiphil; e.g., Judg 3:9 [Othniel], 15 [Ehud]; 6:15, 31 [Gideon]; cf. also 3:31 [Shamgar]; and 10:1 [Abimelek]). Hentschel (1 Samuel, 73) avers that “Die

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In the following pages, I accept the challenge posed by Thomas Paine’s reuse of 1 Sam 8 and 10:17–27, reflecting critically on the compositional history of these chapters. In the background lie these two points regarding the early Israelite monarchy: First, was the “first” Israelite monarchy – that of Saul – anticipated to be hereditary? And second, was a juridical function among the prerogatives and responsibilities of Israel’s “judges” and first kings? I will return to these questions briefly at the end of this study (section 4).

3.

Source-Critical Analysis of 1 Sam 8; 10:17–27; 12

As I have intimated above, some passages from 1 Sam assume that Saul and his family believed their control over Israel to be a hereditary office (1 Sam 20:30– 31; 2 Sam 2:8–9). But these passages all come from the portion of 1–2 Sam typically designated as the “History of David’s Rise”, in many accounts an apologetic document seeking to explain David’s succession to the (Saulide) throne despite originating outside of the dynasty. 30 The episodes to which Paine alluded, however, derive from a different source text or redactional stratum. In this section, I take a source- and redaction-critical approach to 1–2 Sam, pulling apart the threads of the “Narratives of Saul’s Rise” and analyzing the degree to which they demonstrate Deuteronomistic [Dtr] theology. 31 Although commentators continue to debate the issue, the most common source-division of 1 Sam 8–12 detects three separate narratives relating how Saul ascended to the monarchy. The shortest and most self-contained of the three narratives is an early battle-account, in which Saul musters an Israelite army to liberate the Transjordanian city of Jabesh-gilead from an Ammonite incursion (1 Sam 11*). As I have argued elsewhere (calling this source the Narrative of Saul’s Rise A [=NSRA]), this story assumes a largely agrarian social context, and shares several plot-points in common with the “deliverer”-style narratives, absent the characteristic Dtr framework in which the people sin against YHWH, are “sold” (‫ )מכ״ר‬into the hands of a foreign people, cry out in despair, and are delivered by a “deliverer” (‫ – )מוֹ ִשׁי ַﬠ‬later incorporated into Dtr theology as a

30 31

ursprüngliche Bedeutung des Verbums šāpaṭ ‘leiten, regieren’ ist also bereits vergessen.” Although Hentschel views this datum as indicating a date in the middle monarchic period (an assessment with which I do not disagree), I would argue that the earlier meaning of ‫ שׁפ״ט‬may have been present in 8:5, 6 at the moment of its composition, but was gradually subverted with the addition of vv. 1b–3. McCarter, I Samuel, 27–30; idem, “Apology”; Knapp, Royal Apology, 161–248. In the remainder of this study, I abbreviate the term “Deuteronomistic” with the siglum “Dtr”, except in cases where I refer to Noth’s Deuteronomistic redactor (where the siglum also appears as “Dtr”). The phrase “Deuteronomistic History” is abbreviated as “DtrH”.

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“judge” (‫ – )שֹׁ ֵפט‬whom YHWH raises up. 32 This narrative takes place in the northern reaches of East and West Manasseh (between Bezek and Jabesh-gilead [1 Sam 11:8–11]). A range so far to the north of Saul’s main area of operations is geographically unsuited for attribution to a Benjaminite hero. I therefore speculate that the liberation of Jabesh was originally associated with the Manassite Bedan, known from 1 Sam 12:11; 33 accordingly, Bedan’s feat was hijacked, revised, and assigned to Saul at some point in the composition-history of Samuel. 34 The second tale of Saul’s accession to the Israelite throne is found in 1 Sam 9:1–10:16* (NSRB). In the immortal and oft-repeated words of Wellhausen, this narrative relates how a young man still living in his father’s household goes out to look for his father’s lost jennies and instead finds a kingdom. Redactioncritical efforts have uncovered an earlier layer of the story than is preserved there now. In that earlier story, Saul’s success is not guaranteed by the cruse of oil with which Samuel anoints him in 1 Sam 10:1. (Indeed, as Ludwig Schmidt observed already in 1970, the identification of the originally nameless prophetic figure as Samuel seems to be entirely ancillary to the plot of the story. 35) Proceeding from clues identified by earlier scholars, I have identified the earlier narrative’s ending with Saul’s storming of the Philistine garrison at Geba or Gibeah (cf. 1 Sam 13:3). That military action was later appropriated to Saul’s son Jonathan in 1 Sam 14, and relocated to Michmash. 36 The third narrative is found in 1 Sam 8; 10:17–27; 12. This narrative thread was identified by Wellhausen as the “antimonarchic version”, which Dtr split apart and threaded around the “promonarchic version” (1 Sam 9:1–10:16; 11:1– 11, 15). 37 Noth considered these chapters to have been composed by Dtr himself (roughly: 1 Sam 8; 10:17–27; and 12). 38 Despite the interpretive weight that these 362F

36 F

364F

32 33 34

35 36 37

38

Hutton, Transjordanian Palimpsest, 312–328; see earlier Richter, Bearbeitungen; and idem, Traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen. LXXOG (Βαρὰκ) and Pesh. (‫ )ܒܪܩ‬read “Barak” here, which previous interpreters often accept as the original reading (e.g., Tsumura, “Bedan”; idem, First Book, 322–323). The moment of 1 Sam 11*’s inclusion is irrelevant for the present study. Recently, scholars have made arguments for inclusion in the developing text of Samuel already by the late-ninth or early-eighth century (e.g., Hutton, Transjordanian Palimpsest, 312–328, 364–365) or only somewhat later (Greene, “Warlord,” 214–226). Schmidt, Menschlicher Erfolg, 58–102. Hutton, Transjordanian Palimpsest, 349–361. Wellhausen, Prolegomena, 247–256. It is unclear to me whether Wellhausen viewed this as an originally cohesive “source” (“this requirement is abundantly satisfied if chap. xi. is regarded as immediately continuing the story from x.16”: ibid., 251) or written around the extant storyline (as implied by the claim that the “author” of 1 Sam 8 + 10:17–27 also composed 12:12–24; p. 251). Noth, Deuteronomistic History, 80–85; see also McKenzie, “Trouble”. Noth considered it possible that the author of 1 Sam 10:17–27 had relied on earlier traditions, but asserted that the passage was so heavily rewritten that Dtr must be credited with the episode’s authorship; this was particularly the case for vv. 21bβ–27a (ibid., 81–82). Noth claims (p. 81): “In an independent narrative there would have been no reason here [i.e., between 1 Sam 8:22 and 10:17] to divide the essentially homogenous action into two scenes.” I disagree with this assessment, as the follow-

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125

analyses have exerted on subsequent scholarship, the description of these passages as “antimonarchic” has not gone unchallenged. 39 Subsequent interpreters have disputed the view of these chapters as monolithic. Some have merely pointed to these chapters’ synchronic literary features, noting the narrator’s disapproval of the “scoundrels (‫ ”)בְּ נֵי בְ לִ ַיּﬠַל‬opposing Saul’s selection as king. 40 Others have argued that these chapters demonstrate ambivalence towards the monarchy by virtue of their multi-faceted history of redaction. 41 Like the latter group, I view the assessment of these chapters as “antimonarchic” as a misrepresentation of the ideological thrust of the storyline. In order to demonstrate the cause of these chapters’ ambivalence, it is necessary to determine the degree to which they exhibit Dtr theology. Christophe Nihan has recently made a strong argument in favor of recognizing a connection of filiation between Deut 17:14–20 and 1 Sam 8:1–5, and for the fundamentally Dtr origin of 1 Sam 8* (without vv. 7b–9a); 10:17, 20–27. This narrative of the people’s request and of the eventual selection of Saul by a lotselection process was added to the already extant “early story” (comprising roughly 1 Sam 9:1–10:16 + 11*), and “can be regarded as a sophisticated narrative-exegetical adaptation of the beginning of the law of the king in Deut 17:14– 15.” The addition of this unit in Samuel “significantly reshaped the older Saul traditions in 1 Sam 9–14* and helped contextualize the transition from the era of the judges to the era of kings”. 42 Three salient aspects of Nihan’s lengthy and complicated analysis will be addressed in the remainder of this section. First, Nihan concludes that the basic narrative underlying 1 Sam 8*; 10:17–27* was composed whole-cloth by the (first, exilic) Deuteronomist. Second, he asserts that the Deuteronomic Law (esp. 17:14–20) was either antecedent to or contemporaneous with the passages in 1 Sam 8*; 10:17, 20–27, and informed the theology and locution of those passages. Finally, although Nihan traces a continuous narrative throughout 1 Sam 8*; 10*, he does not view it as continuing into ch. 12. 370F

371F

39 40 41

42

ing analysis shows. Dietrich assigns nearly all of chs. 8 and 12 to either DtrG(/H) (1 Sam 8:[1a], 1b, [2], 3–6, 9b, 10, [11–17], 19–22) or DtrN (1 Sam 8:7–9a; 12:1–25), but admits only sparse Dtr revision of ch. 10 (vv. 18*, 19a = DtrN) (“Layer Model,” 46, 53–54, 57; less technically, idem, Early Monarchy, 322). Veijola’s attributions (Königtum, 39–52, esp. 48–51) differed somewhat, but he assigned portions of ch. 10 (vv. 17, 18aα, 19b–27a) to DtrG as well. In contrast, Vermeylen (Loi du plus fort, 10–21, 625–656, esp. 17–18 and 626; idem, “Book of Samuel,” 73–74, 75–76) limits the involvement of the Deuteronomist in these passages to 8:1–2a, 3–6, 22 (which is in his estimation the récit primatif of the “antimonarchic” addition). Mayes, Story of Israel, 85–90; see the similarly ambivalent assessment by Vette, Samuel und Saul, 221–223; Firth, 1 and 2 Samuel, 115–116; and Hutton, “Long Live the King!”, 280–282. One could, of course, counter this claim by pointing out that the ‫ בני בליעל‬may only be objecting to Saul’s selection, not to the monarchic institution as a whole. Veijola has attributed the ambivalence between these materials to redaction history. He assigns to DtrG the bulk of the passages, many of which view the monarchy as a beneficial compromise between YHWH and the people, but he assigns the specifically antimonarchic elements to DtrN (Königtum, 115–122; for a similar approach, see Dietrich, “Layer Model,” 43–44). Nihan, “1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 267.

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The detailed analysis necessary to untangle the problems warrants progressing episode-by-episode.

3.1

The Elders’ Request in 8:1–5*

Although 1 Sam 8* and 10:17–27* are plausibly counted among the many episodes affiliated with the otherwise sparse Dtr overlay of 1–2 Sam, one must question whether they demonstrate composition at a foundational level by a Dtr Historian, as argued by Nihan (among many others), or whether the Historian has merely overlaid an underlying composition with sporadic adjustments. 43 Nihan has made the strongest argument for the former position in recent years. His conclusion is founded upon the basic literary unity of the passage 1 Sam 8:1– 5 and the convergence in these verses of lexical data and themes populating the three literary units under discussion (Deut 17:14–20; 1 Sam 8* + 10:17–27*): a) A “double motif” unites 1 Sam 8:1–5, in which the people lodge parallel complaints necessitating the intervention of a king: not only has Samuel grown old (‫ ; ַו ְיּהִ י ַכּ ֲאשֶׁ ר זָקֵ ן ְשׁמוּאֵ ל‬v. 1a; cf. v. 5aα), but also he has appointed his sons as judges over Israel (‫ ; ַויָּשֶׂ ם אֶ ת־בָּ נָיו שֹׁ פְ ִטים לְ ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬v. 1b). Samuel’s age is not debilitating in the immediate future; rather, the more pressing problem is that “his sons did not walk in his way[s] 44 and they pursued illicit gain” ( ‫וְ ל ֹא־הָ לְ כוּ‬ ‫ ;בָ נָיו בִּ ְד ָרכָו ַו ִיּטּוּ אַ ח ֲֵרי הַ בָּ צַ ע‬v. 3a). Nihan finds in this “double motif” a common marker of political transition, suggesting the essential unity of the passage (8:1–5). 45 This transitional function of 1 Sam 8:1–5 is then eventually borne out in the designation of Saul as king (1 Sam 10:17–27*). b) The collocation �‫ בְּ דֶ ֶר‬+ ‫ הל״ך‬is a well-known Dtr phrase familiar from the evaluations of Israelite and Judahite kings (e.g., 1 Kgs 2:3; 3:14; 11:33, 38; 15:26, 34; etc.). 46 But the more focused complaints that Samuel’s sons have “taken bribes and perverted justice” (‫ ; ַו ִיּקְ חוּ שֹׁ חַ ד ַויַּטּוּ ִמ ְשׁ ָפּט‬v. 3) cooccur elsewhere only in Deut 16:19 and Prov 17:23. According to Nihan, “It is quite likely that 1 Sam 8:3 refers to the instruction about ‫ שפטים‬in Deut 16:18–20 in order to reinforce the condemnation of Samuel’s sons as bad judges.” 47 Similarly, the term “judges” (‫ )שֹׁ פְ ִטים‬occurs in both vv. 1b and 2 of 1 Sam 8 with a vaguely judicial nuance: they are appointed as judges “for Israel” 375 F

43 44 45 46 47

See earlier, e.g., Hertzberg, I & II Samuel, 74. The Masoretic qere supports the plural, but the kethiv (‫ )בדרכו‬can also be read as a plural; see Hutton et al., “Morphological Development”. Nihan, “1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 229–230; see earlier idem, “L’injustice,” 26–32. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy, 333 no. V.A.6. Nihan, “1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 230, citing O’Brien, Deuteronomistic History Hypothesis, 109–110; and Kammerer, “Mißratenen Söhne,” 82–83. Nihan (ibid., 230 n. 14) attributes the reversal of the order of these two members from that in Deut 16:19 (‫ֹא־תּקַּ ח שֹׁ חַ ד‬ ִ ‫ וְ ל‬... ‫ )ל ֹא־תַּ טֶּ ה ִמ ְשׁפָּט‬to the operation of Seidel’s Law.

Pre-Deuteronomistic Narrative in 1 Sam 8; 10*; 12

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(‫ ;לְ ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬v. 1), and they were located in a single city (‫ ;בְ אֵ ר שָׁ בַ ע‬v. 2b; cf. the judicial circuit of Bethel, Gilgal, and Mizpah that Samuel cycles through in 1 Sam 7:15). Together these data suggest the dependence of 1 Sam 8:1–3 on Deut 16:18–19. c) The request for a king in 1 Sam 8:4–5 is lexically similar to the Law of the King in Deut 17:14–20. In particular, Nihan compares the request, “appoint a king for us … like all the nations” (‫ כּכֹ ל הַ גּוֹ ִים‬... �ֶ‫ ;שִֹ ימָ ה־לָּנוּ מֶ ל‬1 Sam 8:5b) to the situation predicted in Deut 17:14: the Israelites will enter the land and think, “Let me appoint over myself a king like all the nations that are round about me” (‫)אָ שִֹ ימָ ה ָﬠלַי מֶ לֶ� כּכָל־הַ גּוֹ יִם ֲאשֶׁ ר ְסבִ יבֹ תָ י‬. 48 Nihan stresses the use of the phrase ‫כּכָל־הַ גּוֹ יִם ֲאשֶׁ ר ְסבִ יבֹ תָ י‬, since this phrase in Deut 17:14 “motivates the following instruction (v. 15a) mandating an endogenous origin for the Israelite king to counterbalance the fundamentally ‘exogenous’ character attached to the monarchy.” 49 In contrast, Nihan does not find the phrase ‫ כְּ כָל־הַ גּוֹ יִם‬of similar value in 1 Sam 8:5, since it is not clear how the Israelites are modelling themselves on the nations. Again, this signals the literary dependence of 1 Sam 8:5 on Deut 17:14–15. 50 d) Nihan finds another point of contact between the Dtr account in 1 Sam 8 + 10:17–27 and Deut 17:14–20 in the locution of Saul’s recognition as the divinely-chosen king: “Have you seen that YHWH has chosen him” ( ‫הַ ְרּ ִאיתֶ ם‬ ‫ ; ֲאשֶׁ ר בָּ חַ ר־בּוֹ י״‬1 Sam 10:24a) mirrors the phrasing in Deut 17:15a limiting the Israelite king to the “king whom your God will select” ( �‫מֶ לֶ� ֲאשֶׁ ר יִבְ חַ ר י״ אֱ�הֶ י‬ ֹ‫)בּו‬. Accordingly, the fact that Saul was selected directly by YHWH through the lot-selection process achieves added significance: he is the very definition of a Deuteronomic king. 51 e) Finally, Nihan explains the supposed addition of ‫ לְ שָׁ פְ טֵ ינוּ‬in 1 Sam 8:5 as “an exegetical adaptation of Deut 17:14 to the Samuel narrative, since the phrase ‫ לשפטינו‬encapsulates the very issue raised by the transition from the era of judges to the era of kings, namely, to what extent the king takes up the main functions of the ‫שפטים‬.” 52 He means, apparently, the functions of the ‫שפטים‬ as they are represented in the Deutronomistic framework of the book of Judges. Nihan has conclusively shown the close relationship between the Law of the King (Deut 17:14–20) in concert with 1 Sam 8. But his assertion of the priority of Deut 17:14–20 over 1 Sam 8 + 10:14–20 is not assured. Many scholars have argued the reverse, prioritizing the Samuel passages. 53 I position myself in this latter 380F

381F

48 49 50 51 52 53

Nihan, “1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 231–233. Nihan, “1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 232–233; see already Veijola, Königtum, 50. Nihan, “1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 232–233. Nihan, “1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 233–234. Nihan, “1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 235. Dietrich, “History and Law,” 322–323; Müller, Königtum, 127–128; Achenbach, “Sogenannte Königsgesetz,” 220–224.

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group, arguing in the following that Nihan’s analysis of 1 Sam 8:1–5 has isolated not the original Grundschrift of the passage, but instead a first layer of redactional supplementation. To begin, the assumption that a “double motif” is necessary to signal the transition from a pre-monarchic politic to one led by a king is ill-founded. Kammerer has argued that 1 Sam 8:1–5 comprise a delineated literary unit, of which v. 3 is the climax. 54 He points to the lexical and thematic connections between v. 1a and v. 5aα2 as evidence for viewing at least these verses as interconnected, omitting only v. 2 as a secondary insertion. Yet, if we reject the premise of verse portions representing whole verses as unproven, it becomes possible to offer a division of 1 Sam 8:1–5 that cleanly separates those portions demonstrating Dtr themes and vocabulary from a more compact storyline that offers a different rationale for the institution of the monarchy. Recognizing that the complaints lodged against Samuel’s sons in 1 Sam 8:3 are Dtr criticisms characteristic of Deuteronomy or of the larger DtrH (as noted above), 55 I posit first that the sons may be separated out from a more primordial story. At every turn, they appear to be inessential to a simple narrative relating the elders’ request for a king: from their investiture as “judges” for the vaguely defined polity of “Israel” (‫;שֹׁ פְ ִטים לְ ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬ v. 1b) to their investiture at Beersheva (‫ ;בְ אֵ ר שָׁ בַ ע‬v. 2b), along with Dan one of the far-flung poles of Israel’s extent throughout the DtrH (Judg 20:1; 1 Sam 3:20; 2 Sam 3:10; 17:11; 24:2, 15; 1 Kgs 5:5). 56 I therefore recognize Dtr composition in vv. 1b–3. 57 Verse 5aβ, which mentions the sons’ failure to “walk in [Samuel’s] ways” (�‫)וּבָ נֶי� ל ֹא הָ לְ כוּ בִּ ְד ָרכֶי‬, may be excised on the same grounds as v. 3a. 58 The rest of the passage, however, seems unaffected by specifically Dtr thought. Without the portions we have isolated in the preceding paragraph, the short narrative presents a coherent storyline: the narrative begins with the notice that Samuel has attained an age presumably qualifying him as an elder (‫ ;)זקן‬in contrast to the materials in vv. 1b–3, nothing about this term specifically connects it with Dtr thought. Moreover, v. 1a potentially flows directly into v. 4 as the circumstantial clause during which the latter verse takes place. The 38F

54 55

56

57

58

Kammerer, “Mißratenen Söhne,” 77. Nihan has correctly identified the constrained distribution of the collocation ‫ נט״ה‬+ ‫לק״ח שֹׁ חַ ד‬ ‫ ִמ ְשׁפָּט‬and its assignment to a Dtr author (point [b], above). This assignment is bolstered by the accompanying complaint in the first half of 1 Sam 8:3. In this regard, I move beyond Kammerer (“Mißratenen Söhne,” 78–79, 81), who recognizes the incidental addition of the sons’ names and of Beersheva, but who retains vv. 1b, 5aβ in the Grundbestand. I thus acknowledge the strength of McKenzie’s argument (“Trouble,” 302) regarding the Dtr origins of the complaints against the sons, but I reject the assumption that this necessarily translates to Dtr authorship of the entirety of vv. 1–5. I make no systematic attempt here to differentiate between the discernable Dtr layers in vv. 1b–3. However, somewhat in line with Kammerer (“Mißratenen Söhne”), it may be possible to argue for a first layer (Dtr1/DtrG) in vv. 1b, 3, which was then supplemented by a secondary (Dtr2/DtrN) revision in v. 2 (cf., though, Veijola, Königtum, 54, who posits the use of an earlier source for v. 2).

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circumstantial wayyiqtōl clause + main wayyiqtōl clause sequence presently formed by vv. 1a + 1b (‫ ַו ָיּשֶׂ ם‬... ‫ ) ַויְּהִ י‬is preserved in vv. 1a + 4 (‫ ַו ִיּ ְתקַ בְּ צוּ‬... ‫) ַו ְיּהִ י‬. Although “all the elders of Israel (‫ ”)כֹ ל זִקְ נֵי ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬appears in v. 4a, “Israel” need not refer to the same expansive polity assumed by the Judges-like introduction in v. 1b. Instead, it may refer simply to a much more circumscribed tribal unit in the central hill country. 59 Ramah was the traditional home of Samuel (cf. 1 Sam 1:1), so this locale also need not be assigned to Dtr composition. Verse 5aα continues the story naturally, reiterating in the elders’ voice the circumstance that not only underlies their visit to Samuel, but has prompted it as well: Samuel has grown old ( ָ‫)הִ נֵּה אַ תָּ ה זָקַ ְנתּ‬. 60 As noted above, v. 5aβ may be excised as Dtr, leaving us finally with the request of the people in v. 5b: 390F

‫ﬠַתָּ ה ִשׂימָ ה־לָּנוּ מֶ לֶ� לְ שָׁ פְ טֵ נוּ כְּ כָל־הַ גּוֹיִ ם‬ “Now, appoint for us a king to ‫ שׁפ״ט‬us like all the nations.”

Researchers have frequently noted the lexical and thematic similarities of this verse to Deut 17:14b 61: ‫וְ אָ מַ ְרתָּ אָ ִשׂימָ ה ָﬠלַי מֶ לֶ� כְּ כָל־הַ גּוֹ יִ ם אֲשֶׁ ר ְס ִביבֹ תָ י‬ …and you say, “Let me appoint over myself a king like all the nations that are round about me…”

Nihan views the direction of influence to run from Deut 17:14 to 1 Sam 8:5, because the Deuteronomic verse motivates the Deuteronomic demand that any king that will be appointed among the Israelites upon their entry into the Promised Land is both selected by YHWH (‫ ;מֶ לֶ� ֲאשֶׁ ר יִבְ חַ ר י״‬v. 15a) and a member of the Israelite community (�‫ ִ;מקֶּ ֶרב אַ חֶ י‬v. 15b). 62 There is little question that ‫ ְסבִ יבֹ תָ י‬is characteristic of Dtr thought, 63 and the word’s omission in 1 Sam 8:5a poses no problem, Nihan argues, since “the reference to the nations surrounding Israel 39F

59

60 61

62 63

The phrase ‫ כֹ ל זִקְ נֵי יִ ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬also appears in Deut 31:9b, but that is its only occurrence in Deuteronomy, and its place in the syntax makes it likely that it is a secondary addition there. The phrase is used several times in Pentateuchal sources (e.g., Exod 12:21; 18:12; see also Exod 4:29 [‫ ;]כֹ ל זִקְ נֵי ְבּנֵי יִ ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬etc.) and the DtrH (2 Sam 5:3; 17:4). The collocation ‫יִשׂ ָראֵ ל‬ ְ ‫( זִקְ נֵי‬without ‫ )כֹ ל‬is even more widespread, appearing in Exod 3:16, 18; 17:6; Num 11:30; 16:25; Deut 27:1; Josh 7:6; 8:10; 1 Sam 4:3; 2 Sam 3:17; 17:15; 1 Chr 15:25; etc. This distribution makes it unlikely that this phrase is a specific marker of Dtr authorship. E.g., Kammerer, “Mißratenen Söhne,” 77. Others have compared the similar locution in v. 1b (‫ ;שׂי״ם ל‬see, e.g., below). Kammerer, however, has observed the propensity for the later redactor to pick up “zentrale Begriffe” of the earlier text, while at the same time changing their meanings (“Mißratenen Söhne,” 77–78). This tactic will appear in several locations below. Nihan, “1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 232–233. Although the word ‫ סביב‬is not specifically listed by Weinfeld, it does appear in his study as part of the collocations ‫( אלהי העמים אשר סביבותיכם‬Deut 6:14; 13:8; Judg 2:12; Deuteronomy, 322 no. I.A.14) and (‫( להניח )מכל אויב מסביב‬e.g., Deut 12:10; 25:19; 2 Sam 7:1; etc.; ibid., 343 no. VI.6).

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did not need to be quoted in full, because it no longer played a central role in the narrative.” 64 Nihan’s observation concerning the relationship between Deut 17:14b and 15 is apposite, but this does not necessarily mean that these verses served as the conceptual precursor to 1 Sam 8:5. Reinhard Achenbach has argued that 1 Sam 8 does not seem to know the law in Deut 17, since it shows no “explicit reference”. 65 Nihan argues in contrast that no explicit reference is necessary, 66 but Achenbach’s point is a good one: without explicit indication, we are reliant on perceived developments in theme in order to trace the direction of influence. Perhaps a more effective argument can be drawn from the slight differences in locution between the two passages. Reinhard Müller points to the alternation of ‫( שׂי״ם ל‬1 Sam 8:5) and ‫( שׂי״ם על‬Deut 17:14) as indicating the priority of 1 Sam 8. 67 Also in support of this direction of influence, Dietrich points to the respective nuances of the neutral ‫“( ל‬to”) over against the more negatively-valenced ‫“( על‬against” or “over”). 68 Although this may be an overreading of the available evidence, the distribution of the preposition through the course of 1 Sam 8–12 may be more decisive. Over that textual span, the elders’ request for a king is referenced seven times (1 Sam 8:5, 6, 19, 22; 10:19; 12:12). The collocation ‫שׂי״ם ל‬ occurs in 8:5b, and the semantically similar ‫ נת״ן ל‬in the following verse (v. 6aγ). The use of ‫ מל״ך ל‬hiphil in 1 Sam 8:22 is a synonymous restatement of the request. In contrast, ‫ הי״ה על‬appears in 1 Sam 8:19, ‫ שׂי״ם על‬occurs in 1 Sam 10:19, and ‫מל״ך‬ ‫ על‬in 1 Sam 12:1 (qal), 12 (hiphil). 69 As will be discussed further below, 1 Sam 8:19 seems to serve as the second member of a Wiederaufnahme designed to incorporate vv. 11–17, the so-called mišpaṭ hammelek. Also to be treated below, 1 Sam 10:19 recapitulates the request, again serving as a resumptive repetition whose function is to incorporate the earlier text 1 Sam 9:1–10:16; 1 Sam 12:1 serves a similar purpose with respect to the combination with the older NSRA (1 Sam 11:1–11). Finally, 1 Sam 12:12 is ubiquitously regarded as a later restatement by a subsequent editor. Together, these data point to ‫מל״ך‬/‫נת״ן‬/‫ שׂי״ם‬+ ‫ ל‬as the more original locution. I view the sequence of 1 Sam 8:5, 6, 22 (using ‫ )ל‬as belonging to the earlier layer of 1 Sam 8*, which itself served as the conceptual predecessor 64 65 66 67 68

69

Nihan, “1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 233. Achenbach, “Sogenannte Königsgesetz,” 220–224. Nihan, “1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 235 n. 32. Müller, Königtum, 127; similarly Dietrich, “History and Law,” 322–323. Dietrich, “History and Law,” 323, 327. Nihan (“1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 235 n. 32) calls the evidence supporting this claim into question, but neither does he adduce a compelling rationale for viewing ‫ על‬as the “more original” formulation. The LXXOG gives the following: κατάστησον ἐφ᾽ (8:5); δὸς + dat. (8:6); ἔσται ἐφ᾽ (8:19); βασίλευσον + dat. (8:22); στήσεις ἐφ᾽ (10:19); ἐβασίλευσα ἐφ᾽ (12:12); βασιλεύσει ἐφ᾽ (12:12). In short, the verb changes with each recurrence of the phrase, usually rendering the Hebrew with a semantically close replacement (although cf. 8:5 [κατάστησον] and 10:19 [στήσεις], both rendering Hebrew ‫)שׂי״ם‬. In all cases but 8:6 and 22 (where the Greek dative marks “us” or “them” as the appropriate recipient), the preposition has been standardized to ἐπί.

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of Deut 17:14. Accordingly, the locution in Deut 17:14 (using ‫ )על‬influenced the secondary framing passages in 1 Sam 8:19 + 10:19 + 12:1, 12. According to this directionality, the addition of ‫ ְסבִ יבֹ תָ י‬in Deut 17:14 results from the Deuteronomic author’s need to connect the request for a king to the larger Dtr framing of the transition from the period of the conquest to the monarchy and, correspondingly, the solidification of the Davidic dynasty (e.g., 2 Sam 7:1). 70 Conversely, the omission in Deut 17:14 of its precursor text’s ‫לשפטינו‬ (1 Sam 8:5) fulfills a similarly understandable role. For example, Müller argues that Deuteronomy has omitted the phrase in order to account for the fact that “judges and scribes” have been tasked with juridical responsibilities in Deut 16:18 (‫ וְ שָׁ פְ טוּ אֶ ת־הָ ﬠַם ִמ ְשׁ ַפּט־צֶ דֶ ק‬... � ְ‫)שֹׁ פְ ִטים וְ שֹׁ ְט ִרים ִתּתֵּ ן־ל‬. After the formulation of the Deuteronomic Law (including the law of the king in Deut 17:14–20), these are no longer responsibilities assigned to Israel’s monarch. In short, because this juridical nuance of the root ‫ שׁפ״ט‬contrasts with the more general sense of leadership in 1 Sam 8:5, it is unlikely that a Dtr redactor would have added the phrase ‫ לשפטינו‬to the people’s request for a king. 71 In contrast, the specifically judicial responsibilities of the “judges and scribes” of Deut 16:18 are consistent with the secondary material in 1 Sam 8:1b–3 (esp. vv. 1b, 2b, 3aβb). I therefore assign this level of redaction to a Dtr redactor. Although 1 Sam 8:6 will be discussed further below, the restatement of the elders’ request in that verse may help to solve the problem posed above regarding the direction of influence between 1 Sam 8:5 and Deut 17:14–15. In v. 6a, the narrator repeats the people’s request from v. 5, offering narratorial perspective on Samuel’s reaction: 401F

‫ַו ֵיּ ַרע הַ דָּ בָ ר ְבּﬠֵינֵי ְשׂמוּאֵ ל ַכּאֲשֶׁ ר אָ ְמרוּ ְתּנָה־לָּנוּ מֶ לֶ� לְ שָׁ פְ טֵ נוּ‬ But the matter was evil in Samuel’s view, how the people said, “Give us a king to lead us, …”

The omission of ‫ כְּ כָל־הַ גּוֹ יִם‬here may validate Nihan’s claim that the prepositional phrase is more nearly at home in Deut 17:14–15. In this reading, it functions as a disconnected motif in 1 Sam 8:5b (i.e., it loses its meaning in the present context). 72 Yet, this scenario does not necessitate that the entire verse 8:5b be based on Deut 17:14. Rather, it seems equally plausible that only the phrase ‫כְּ כָל־‬ ‫ הַ גּוֹ יִם‬has been imported from Deuteronomy during the process of transmission prior to the divergence of proto-MT and Vorlage-LXX. 73 The addition of Deut 17:14’s phrase ‫ כְּ כָל־הַ גּוֹ ִים‬to the extant locution of 1 Sam 8:5b during the text’s transmission would have served to draw the texts closer together 70 71 72 73

Müller, Königtum, 127; Dietrich, “History and Law,” 323. Müller, Königtum, 127; cf. Nihan, “1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 235. The term ‫ שׁפ״ט‬seems much more in v. 5 to describe military leadership, as Tsumura (First Book, 249) indicates. See previously Birch, Rise, 27; cf., however, O’Brien, Deuteronomistic History Hypothesis, 110; Müller, Königtum, 127–128; and Achenbach, “Sogenannte Königsgesetz,” 222–223. Cf. LXXOG καθὰ καὶ τὰ λοιπὰ ἔθνη. In this judgment, I agree with Hentschel, 1 Samuel, 73.

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conceptually. 74 Because it is difficult to determine the origination point of the phrase, I mark it in brackets as questionably original to 1 Sam 8:5b. The analysis offered here – to be resumed in the following sections – has suggested a cohesive storyline in 1 Sam 8:1a, 4, 5aα, 5b (perhaps without ‫כְּ ָכל־‬ ‫)הַ גּוֹ יִם‬. This Grundschrift presents an episode in which the elders of “Israel” – perhaps intended to coincide with a small subset of the later Northern Kingdom, located predominantly in Ephraim and Manasseh – come to Samuel with the request for a more neutral authority figure in light of Samuel’s old age. It is understandable that the group should entreaty Samuel for a means to promote the continuity of leadership. But instead of wishing to ensure that Samuel has picked a successor in whatever position it is he occupies (priest? judge?), they ask for a more officially established military leader: 1a And when Samuel grew old, 4all the elders of Israel assembled and came to Samuel at Ramah. 5aαThey said to him, “See now, you have grown old. 5b*Now, appoint for us a king to lead us, [like all the nations?].”

This underlying storyline was overlaid with what appears to be a set of Dtr additions in vv. 1b–3, 5aβ, and perhaps 5b* (‫ ;כְּ כָל־הַ גּוֹ יִם‬cf. Deut 17:14). These additions add the motif of Samuel’s sons, whom Samuel has already appointed as judges (‫ ;שֹׁ פְ ִטים‬1 Sam 8:1b) in Beersheva (‫ ;בְ אֵ ר שָׁ בַ ע‬v. 2b), a far-flung outpost at the southern end of Judah. This geographic expansion has the effect of creating a much larger Israelite polity (cf. ‫ ;לְ ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬v. 1b), inclusive of Judah’s territory as well. The sons “do not walk in Samuel’s ways” (‫ ;ל ֹא הָ לְ כוּ בָ נָיו בִּ ְד ָר ָכ]י[ו‬v. 3aα; and v. 5aβ: �‫ ;וּבָ נֶי� ל ֹא הָ לְ כוּ בִּ ְד ָרכֶי‬cf. 1 Kgs 15:26, 34; 16:2, 19; etc.), instead seeking unjust profit (‫ ַו ִיּטּוּ אַ ח ֲֵרי הַ בָּ צַ ע‬: v. 3aβ; cf. Jer 6:13; 8:10; Ezek 22:27; Hab 2:9; Prov 1:19; 15:27 [all with ‫ ;]בצ״ע‬and Ezek 33:31 [with ‫)]הל״ך‬, 75 taking bribes (‫ ַויִּקְ חוּ־שֹׁ חַ ד‬: v. 3bα; cf. Exod 23:8; Deut 10:17; 16:19; 27:25; Ezek 22:12; 2 Chr 19:7; Ps 15:5) and perverting justice (‫ ַויַּטּוּ ִמ ְשׁ ָפּט‬: v. 3bβ; cf. Deut 16:19; 24:17; 27:19). 76 In the next section, I track the fallout from the elders’ request for a king in 1 Sam 8:1–5*. As we will see, two sets of Wiederaufnahmen (resumptive repetitions) served to incorporate multiple additions into the text. By teasing apart these threads, however, it is possible to validate the general consensus of scholars that the elders’ request for a king (1 Sam 8:5b) was fulfilled in 1 Sam 10:17– 27* at the point of both chapters’ earliest composition. I differ, however, from 406F

74

75 76

The proliferation of studies of Second Temple Jewish rewritten scriptural texts has brought to light the modes of rewriting exemplified by ancient scribes. In particular, Molly Zahn has pointed to certain techniques (e.g., additions of new material, additions of material from elsewhere, and minor alterations) that are similar or identical to those frequently proposed in biblical texts (see, e.g., Zahn, Rethinking, 17–19; idem, Genres of Rewriting, 74–97). The scribal intervention I am proposing here would constitute a small addition of material from elsewhere. For a survey of the term’s nuances and occurrences, see Harland, “‫בצע‬,” esp. 316–318. ‫ בֶּ צַ ע‬and ‫ שֹׁ חַ ד‬appear together in Isa 33:15; Ezek 22:12–13, and the collocations ‫ נט״ה ִמ ְשׁפָּט‬and ‫לק״ח‬ ‫ שֹׁ חַ ד‬appear in Prov 17:23 as well as in Deut 16:19, as observed by Tsumura (First Book, 246).

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those who argue that it was a Dtr author who initially crafted that early composition.

3.2

YHWH’s Command to Samuel: 1 Sam 8:6–22

The base narrative of v. 5b continues in v. 6: Samuel is displeased with the request, which he views as “evil” (‫ ;רע״ע‬v. 6a). It is unclear from the immediately preceding context what, exactly, was “evil” about the request, but the explanation plausibly involves a long-standing ideology in monarchic-era Israel that harked back to an earlier period in which authority in Israel was more distributed, not concentrated in a single individual and his retinue. Although some have argued for a distinct difference in ideology between vv. 1–5* and v. 6, 77 this perception is mistaken. Instead, one might surmise with more traditional analyses, that the account was written with full knowledge of the monarchic politics of the surrounding nations (e.g., Egypt, Assyria, Aram, Phoenicia, Moab, Edom, Ammon, and others). This position would assume only that, at the time of this passage’s composition, Israel’s and Judah’s developing senses of political organization already held to an ideology in which the ideal political organization of the highland tribes was not as a king-centered state but rather as a collection of relatively egalitarian, elder-centered tribal units. 78 As has been repeatedly shown, this ideology persisted in the South Levantine highlands well into the Iron Age IIB, 79 and it need not be excised from this verse on principle. Accordingly, Samuel’s consideration of the elders’ request as “evil” (‫ ; ַויּ ֵַרע הַ דָּ בָ ר בְּ ﬠֵינֵי ְשׂמוּאֵ ל‬v. 6a) serves as a literary stand-in for the ideology of the 8th–7th centuries that continued to idealize the acephalous mode of leadership that was remembered as preceding the monarchic period. Stated differently: the ideology of v. 6 is consistent with the passage’s Grundschrift in vv. 1a, 4–5. 80 The next portion of this verse (‫ ; ְתּנָה־לָּנוּ מֶ לֶ� לְ שָׁ פְ טֵ נוּ‬v. 6aβ) slightly restates the request in v. 5b, changing the verbal root from ‫ שׂי״ם‬to ‫ נת״ן‬and omitting the phrase ‫כְּ כָל־הַ גּוֹ יִם‬. This restatement was treated above in section 3.1 and we need not dwell long on it here. Samuel’s displeasure with the elders’ request prompts him to pray to YHWH, presumably for guidance. 410F

77 78

79 80

E.g., Veijola, Königtum, 55. Egalitarianism (often mistakenly identified as “acephality”; e.g., Rogerson, “Was Early Israel,” 17–26, esp. 19, where “acephalous” and “segmentary” are equated uncritically) as a principle does not entail a society completely without leadership (e.g., Gottwald, Tribes; and Crüsemann, Widerstand, 201–208; for more up-to-date discussions of segmentary egalitarianism, see Faust, Israel’s Ethnogenesis; and Hutton, “Long Live the King!” 300–310). E.g., Cook, Social Roots; see also the earlier assessments of the elders’ request in 1 Sam 8:5 by Weiser, Samuel, 31–32; and Birch, Rise, 27. Contra Veijola, Königtum, 54–55; and O’Brien, Deuteronomistic History Hypothesis, 111.

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The continuation of the story in v. 7 confirms this presumption and helps to flesh out the theory offered above: God dismisses Samuel’s concerns, telling him, “obey (lit., listen to the voice of) the people, with respect to 81 all that they say to you (�‫ֹאמרוּ אֵ לֶי‬ ְ ‫”)שׁמַ ע בְּ קוֹ ל הָ ﬠָם לְ כֹ ל ֲאשֶׁ ר־י‬ ְ (v. 7aβ). 82 The rationale for this command is then predicated on the fact that the people are not rejecting Samuel ( ‫כִּ י ל ֹא אַ תָּ ה‬ ‫ ;מָ אָ סוּ‬v. 7bα). It is only YHWH whom they have rejected “from ruling over them” (‫ ;כִּ י־אֹ ִתי מָ ֲאסוּ ִמ ְמּ�� ֲﬠלֵיהֶ ם‬v. 7bβ). 83 The narrator (working through the voice of YHWH) thereby contradicts Samuel’s natural instinct to view the elders’ request as a rejection of his human leadership. Instead, the narrator makes it clear that this plea constitutes a rejection of divine kingship. 84 The latter principle had been a staple of theologies across the ancient Near East for more than a millennium by the time of the story’s presumed narrative horizon, and was encoded in much of Israel’s and Judah’s hymnic poetry with the exultant call, “YHWH/Elohim reigns! (‫אֶ �הִ ים‬/‫( ”)מָ לַ� י״‬e.g., Isa 24:23; 52:7; Ps 47:9; 93:1; 96:10; 97:1; 99:1; cf. Exod 15:18; Mic 4:7; Ezek 20:33; Ps 146:10 [all containing a different verbal form]). This same ideology underlies Samuel’s displeasure in v. 6a, as argued above; vv. 6 and 7 therefore do not conflict with one another, nor do they depart significantly from the basic narrative progression of vv. 1a, 4–5. Moreover, the verb “to reject” (‫ )מא״ס‬is used in the pre-Dtr redactional level of Antony F. Campbell’s preDtr “Prophetic Record” to signal YHWH’s rejection of kings and potential kings – first, YHWH rejects Saul and then David’s older brother Elihu (1 Sam 16:1, 7). 85 It is therefore unnecessary to argue for a Dtr origin of the accusation that the people have rejected YHWH from ruling over them. 86 415F

416F

81 82

83 84

85 86

As Tsumura (First Book, 251) notes, this is the lamed of specification (citing IBHS §11.2.10d). The use of ‫ ﬠָם‬here need not serve as a sign of literary disjuncture, as is argued by Veijola (Königtum, 55). Although it does reappear in what I consider to be the redactional additions of 1 Sam 10:17 (see below, section 3.3), its use here is of a generalizing description – YHWH does not need to stipulate that Samuel should “listen to the voice of the elders,” since the elders are the only ones present at Ramah. Similarly, see Hutton, “Long Live the King!” 288: the “‘rejection’ [i.e., of YHWH’s supremacy] of 8:7b … is presupposed in the request of the elders for a king.” With the excision of Samuel’s sons from the underlying text, it is unnecessary to view the “Amtsmissbrauch der Samuel-Söhne” as the foundational reason for the people’s request (Veijola, Königtum, 55). Rather, this rejection can be described as a rejection of the deliverermodel implicit in the basic framework of the book of Judges. As Tsumura (First Book, 243) points out, the request for a king is predicated on the people’s desire not “to wait for God to act to raise up someone to judge or lead in battle as the need arose; they wanted someone on hand.” Veijola contrasts the “rejection” (‫ )מא״ס‬of YHWH with the “choosing” (‫ )בח״ר‬of a king (Königtum, 55–56, esp. n. 16; similarly, see McKenzie, “Trouble,” 288; Dietrich, “History and Law,” 330). But the only two passages he cites in the Deuteronomistic History are 1 Sam 16:7–8 (see also vv. 9, 10; and, e.g., 2 Sam 6:21) and 2 Kgs 23:27. While the latter most likely does spring from the pen of Dtr1/DtrG, I would assign the former passage (1 Sam 16:1–13) to a pre-Deuteronomistic redactor (e.g., Campbell, Of Prophets and Kings, 21; see also Birch, Rise, 28, 50 for a similar observation). It is similarly unnecessary to consider this “rejection” of the political sovereignty of YHWH as a “transgression of the First Commandment,” with Kratz, Composition, 172. For 1 Sam 16:1–13 as part of the prophetic record, see Campbell, Of Prophets and Kings, 21. Cf., e.g., McKenzie (“Trouble,” 301), along with many others.

Pre-Deuteronomistic Narrative in 1 Sam 8; 10*; 12

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In contrast, YHWH’s statement that the people were not rejecting Samuel in v. 7bα is directly contradicted by v. 8b: “Thus (i.e., leaving [‫ ]עז״ב‬YHWH) they are also doing to you (�ָ‫)כֵּן הֵ מָּ ה עֹ ִשׂים גַּם־ל‬.” YHWH recognizes here that the elders are also rejecting Samuel. Interpreters have long recognized that vv. 7b and 8b stand in tension with one another. 87 The rest of v. 8 alludes to the Exodus from Egypt (‫ֲ�תי אֹ תָ ם ִמ ִמּצְ ַר ִים‬ ִ ‫ ) ִמיּוֹ ם הַ ﬠ‬and to the Israelites’ worship of “other gods” ( ‫ַו ַיּﬠַבְ דוּ אֱ�הִ ים‬ ‫) ֲאחֵ ִרים‬. Not only does this verse seem to have in view a more expansive history of Israel dating back to the Exodus (and thus aware of the Pentateuchal narrative), it assumes the broader view of “Israel” as the twelve-tribe polity of later presentations. The addition in v. 8 would therefore seem to be clearly Dtr, with some portions likely of the Dtr2 or roughly comparable DtrN variety. 88 An additional marker of the secondary addition of v. 8 is found in v. 9a: YHWH’s command to Samuel that he should appoint a king for the people (v. 7aβ) is resumed in v. 9a: “So now, listen to their voice” (‫)וְ ַﬠתָּ ה ְשׁמַ ע בְּ קוֹ לָם‬. This resumptive repetition marks v. 8 as a secondary addition. 89 I therefore excise all of vv. 8–9a as a secondary addition, possibly by a later Dtr redactor (Dtr2 or DtrN). What follows is the so-called mišpaṭ hammelek – alternately described as the “rights” or “ways (i.e., habits, customs)” of the king. Samuel lists the oppressive actions the king will take with respect to the people (vv. 11–17). This apparent addition has been incorporated into the extant story-line through the insertion of two sets of narrative framing: The opening frame consists of vv. 9b–10, in which YHWH instructs Samuel to “warn” (‫ עו״ד‬hiphil) the people concerning the costs of having a human king (v. 9b) and the narrator then reports Samuel’s act of speaking. The closing frame (vv. 18–22) is more complex. It consists, first, of Samuel’s prediction regarding how the people will respond to the king’s oppressive actions (v. 18): the people will call out to YHWH to liberate them (as in the time of the judges), 90 but YHWH will refuse to answer them. Second, we read in the narrator’s voice that the people refuse to heed Samuel’s warning, and con419F

420F

87

88

89

90

E.g., Birch, Rise, 23. Additionally, the phrase ‫( וְ ﬠַד־הַ יּוֹ ם הַ זֶּה‬v. 8aα2) marks the addition here as Dtr (Weinfeld, Deuteronomy, 341 no. V.B.12; Geoghegan, Time, Place, and Purpose, esp. 142–143, 162). In contrast to my argument, see Nihan (“1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 240–250), who views vv. 7b–8 as part of the same post-Dtr redaction (similarly, see also O’Brien, Deuteronomistic History Hypothesis, 111). The phrase ‫ אֱ�הִ ים אֲחֵ ִרים‬is often (although not always) taken to be a marker of the exilic Deuteronomist (Cross’s Dtr2 or Smend’s DtrN, which, for the purposes of this paper, I take to be largely coincident with one another). For the assessment of v. 8 as Dtr, see Birch, Rise, 23; and Nelson, “Deuteronomistic Historian,” 22. E.g., Veijola, Königtum, 56–57; see similarly Dietrich (“History and Law,” 325), although he considers all of vv. 7–9 to be secondary. Although this Wiederaufnahme would also seem to cut out v. 7b, this is not necessarily the case. As noted above, v. 7b motivates the command in v. 7a, and contrasts directly with v. 8b (which is consistent with v. 8a). Dietrich (“History and Law,” 328) observes that v. 18 contrasts YHWH’s refusal to listen to the Israelites’ complaints concerning their king with YHWH’s answer to their cry in the Judges cycle. The scope here takes the book of Judges into account, and likely indicates Dtr composition.

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tinue to demand the appointment of a king over them. Within this demand are two interrelated resumptions, both of which pick up language from earlier in the narrative, reframing it, alongside material that was apparently composed specifically for this location. We have already seen the repetition of the elders’ request (v. 5b) in v. 6aβ. There, the preposition ‫ ל‬continued to be employed. In v. 19, the elders refuse to heed Samuel’s warning, and repeat their request: “No, but rather a king shall be over us (‫( ”)לּ ֹא כִּ י ִאם־מֶ לֶ� יִהְ יֶה ָﬠלֵינוּ‬v. 19b). 91 The reason that they want to do so is in order that “We too shall be like all the peoples (‫”)וְ הָ יִינוּ גַם־ ֲאנַחְ נוּ כְּ כָל־הַ גּוֹ יִם‬ (v. 20a). Two observations are worth noting here. First, this is the initial usage of the preposition ‫ ﬠַל‬rather than ‫ל‬, which we saw above in the elders’ original request for a king. Although ‫ ל‬was repeated in v. 6 (and will be again in v. 22), ‫ﬠַל‬ will occur three more times in the passages analyzed in this study (1 Sam 10:19; 12:1, 12), all of which appear to be secondary. Second, the elders’ rationale for persisting in their demand – so that they might be like all the peoples – reprises the phrase from v. 5 that, as we saw above, was most likely to be a secondary importation from Deut 17:14. Together, these observations lead to the conclusion that vv. 19b–20a are part of the resumptive framing material that was designed to incorporate the mišpaṭ hammelek into the narrative. 92 Verse 20b offers further insight into why the elders are requesting a king: “Our king will lead us; he will go out before us and fight our battles ( ‫וּשׁ ַפ ְטנוּ מַ לְ כֵּנוּ‬ ְ ‫ת־מלְ חֲמֹ תֵ נוּ‬ ִ ֶ‫)וְ יָצָ א לְ ָפנֵינוּ וְ נִלְ חַ ם א‬.” The use of ‫ שׁפ״ט‬in this passage ought to raise suspicions. The clearly martial aspects adumbrated in v. 20b comport more with the military functions of the “deliverers” in Judges than they do with the juridical functions of Samuel’s sons (who, as we saw above, seem to be part of a secondary redaction in 1 Sam 8:1b–3). I hypothesize that this half-verse comprises a redactor’s transposition of material that originally stood at the end of 1 Sam 8:5 (i.e., where ‫ כְּ כָל־הַ גּוֹ יִם‬now stands), and which was meant to clarify the functions assumed in ‫לְ שָׁ פְ טֵ נוּ‬. If this conjecture is correct, the sequence ‫ ונלחם‬... ‫( ויצא‬now in v. 20b) could have functioned in their present syntagma (wǝqātal + wǝqātal) or they might have functioned as a telic weyiqtōl + wǝqātal sequence (i.e., ‫וְ יֵצֵ א לְ ָפנֵינוּ‬ ‫)וְ נִלְ חַ ם‬: 42F

Conjectured reconstruction of vv. 5* [without ‫ ]כְּ כָל־הַ גּוֹ יִ ם‬+ 20b*: ‫עתה שימה לנו מלך לשפטנו ויצא לפנינו ונלחם את מלחמתנו‬ “Now, appoint for us a king to ‫ שׁפ״ט‬us, so that he might go out before us and fight our battles.”

Given that vv. 19–20 look to be a mixture of redactional composition (v. 19a), Wiederaufnahmen (vv. 19b–20a), and material potentially displaced from earlier in the narrative (v. 20b), it should not be surprising that vv. 21–22a appear to be 91 92

The original locution of this verse may have originally included a prepositional phrase ‫“ לוֹ‬to him” (see further discussion in section 3.4, below). For this conclusion, see e.g., Dietrich, “History and Law,” 326.

Pre-Deuteronomistic Narrative in 1 Sam 8; 10*; 12

137

reformulations of earlier material as well. Verse 21a relates that “Samuel heard (‫ )שׁמ״ע‬all the words of the people (‫ָל־דּבְ ֵרי הָ ﬠָם‬ ִ ‫)כּ‬.” Although this clause reprises the use of the verb ‫ – שׁמ״ע‬also seen in 1 Sam 8:7, 9, 19, 22; etc. – it does so in a way that does not conform to the pattern established in vv. 7aβ, 9a, and 22aα, where the fuller collocation includes ְ‫ בּ‬+ ‫ קוֹל‬+ NP/PRO. The second half of the verse does nothing more than offer another opportunity for YHWH to instruct Samuel to fulfill the elders’ wishes (cf. v. 6b). In short, the verse as a whole serves only to signal Samuel’s readiness to fulfill YHWH’s command (vv. 7aβ, [9a]). Neither half of v. 21 is strictly necessary, and preserving either would interrupt the full command of YHWH, as reconstructed below (i.e., vv. 7 + 22aβ). I therefore consider v. 21 to be part of the secondary text incorporating the mišpaṭ hammelek in vv. 11–17. 93 A second locutionary Wiederaufnahme bolsters the conclusion that we are dealing with a long redactional insertion here: YHWH’s command that Samuel should “listen to their voice” occurs yet a third time in v. 22a (cf. vv. 7aβ, 9a), conjoined with an explicit statement of the gist of the people’s demands: “and crown a king over them” (�ֶ‫) ְשׁמַ ע בְּ קוֹ לָם וְ הִ ְמלַכְ תָּ לָהֶ ם מֶ ל‬. Here, too, the repetition would seem to function as a Wiederaufnahme marking the insertion of a secondary passage. 94 The resumptive member found in v. 22a is fuller than that found in v. 9a, and continues the apparent first half in v. 7a (part of which is repeated in v. 22aα). Whereas v. 7a responds only obliquely to the elders’ request for a king, v. 22aβ responds directly to it. Moreover, although the verb used here (‫מל״ך‬ hiphil) differs from those used in vv. 5b (‫ )שׂי״ם‬and 6aβ (‫)נת״ן‬, the proposition gov423F

93

94

Differently, compare also O’Brien, Deuteronomistic History Hypothesis, 111. The storyline traced here is exceedingly minimal, but I am no longer convinced that all of v. 21 can be included in the earliest layer of the pre-Dtr narrative (cf. Hutton, “Long Live the King!” 291–292). Interpreters have long argued about the socio-historical setting of the mišpaṭ hammelek, with dates ranging from the Late Bronze period all the way into the Babylonian period. For a dating in the Late Bronze, see Mendelsohn, “Samuel’s Denunciation”; Weiser, “Samuel und die Vorgeschichte”; idem, Samuel, 41–42. More moderate views have dated the text somewhat later. For a date during the reign of Solomon, see Boecker, Beurteilung, 16–19; Crüsemann, Widerstand, 66– 73; Clements, “Deuteronomistic Interpretation”; for the “early monarchic period”, see Hentschel, 1 Samuel, 74. Leuchter (“King like All the Nations”) argues that the chronological horizon of the mišpaṭ hammelek was during the Assyrian period of the 8th century. Kaplan (“1 Samuel 8:11–18,” 642) argues that the mišpāṭ “was excerpted from a Fürstenspiegel-like text in the collection of an Israelite scribe or modeled on such a tradition”; the genre to which Kaplan compares this excerpt was typical of the Neo-Babylonian period. Veijola (Königtum, 55–66) argues that the mišpaṭ hammelek was an earlier (likely northern) text, incorporated by DtrN. McKenzie (“Trouble,” 303) attributes the entire mišpaṭ hammelek to Dtr (i.e., Noth’s exilic Deuteronomist). I make no firm determination here regarding the original setting or date of this addition. However, its insertion into its present setting can reasonably be seen to precede the addition of v. 8 (and the accompanying summative v. 9a). I strongly suspect it to have been performed by the Deuteronomist who initially compiled the History (i.e., Dtr1 or DtrG – in general, I prefer the model associated with the former).

138

Jeremy M. Hutton

erning it (‫ )ל‬remains the same (as opposed to ‫ ﬠַל‬in v. 19b). 95 Verses 7a and 22aβ are therefore conceptually paired, forming first an oblique acknowledgement that the elders’ request required response and then offering a direct clarification of what that response should be. In addition, the motivation in v. 7b presumably occupied a medial position (signaled by the ellipses in the quotation above). It seems most likely, then, that God’s command to Samuel originally comprised vv. 7 + 22aβ: 425F

‫ל־שׁמוּאֵ ל‬ ְ ֶ‫ַויּ ֹאמֶ ר י״ א‬ ‫ְשׁמַ ע ְבּקוֹל הָ ﬠָם‬ �‫ֹאמרוּ אֵ לֶי‬ ְ ‫לְ כֹ ל אֲשֶׁ ר־י‬ ‫כִּ י ל ֹא אַ תָּ ה מָ אָ סוּ‬ ‫כִּ י־אֹ ִתי מָ אֲסוּ ִמ ְמּ�� ֲﬠלֵיהֶ ם‬ �ֶ‫וְ הִ ְמלַכְ תָּ לָהֶ ם מֶ ל‬

7aα 7aβ 7aγ 7bα 7bβ 22aβ

YHWH said to Samuel, “Obey the people in all that they say to you, because it is not you that they have rejected, rather me have they rejected from ruling over them: crown a king for them.”

I therefore reconstruct the history of this second part of 1 Sam 8* (including the law of the king in vv. 11–17 and the framing material in vv. 9b–10, 11* [‫] ַויּ ֹאמֶ ר‬, 96 18, 97 19–21) as follows: The mišpaṭ hammelek (vv. 9b–21), was added – probably at latest by the Deuteronomist, if not by a pre-Dtr editor – by repeating the command in v. 7aβ in v. 22aα and including the summative part of the command as v. 22aβ. Subsequently, the second insertion was made in v. 8 and incorporated using the extremely brief resumptive repetition in v. 9a, which also repeated v. 7aβ. Because the natural conclusion of the command had already been displaced to v. 22aβ, it was not seen as a necessary component to be repeated in a resumptive repetition. This allowed the second editor, who added v. 8, to get away with adding only ‫ וְ ַﬠתָּ ה ְשׁמַ ע בְּ קוֹ לָם‬in v. 9a. To summarize the literary analysis offered in this section, the original, preDtr Grundschrift of YHWH’s command to Samuel comprised a general command, motivation, and more specific clarification of the command: 6 But the matter was evil in Samuel’s view, how the people said, “Give us a king to lead us,” so Samuel prayed to YHWH. 7And YHWH said to Samuel, “Obey (lit., listen to the voice of) the people, with respect to all that they say to you, because it is not you that they have rejected, rather me have they rejected from ruling over them: 22aβcrown a king for them.”

95 96

97

BHS notes that two Hebrew manuscripts read ‫ עלהם‬rather than MTL’s ‫לָהֶ ם‬, but these anomalous manuscripts seem designed to harmonize with the secondary passages. Notice that the phrase ‫ מל״ך‬+ ‫ ﬠַל‬occurs here in v. 11; as will be seen below, this collocation occurs elsewhere in what appears to be secondary material (1 Sam 12:1b, 12aβ; cf. also 10:19a for ‫)ﬠַל‬. Nelson (“Deuteronomistic Historian,” 22) considers v. 18 also to exhibit “trace elements of Deuteronomistic language” (see also Birch, Rise, 24).

Pre-Deuteronomistic Narrative in 1 Sam 8; 10*; 12

3.3

139

Continuity between 1 Sam 8* + 10:17–27*

It was seen in the preceding section that after the elders requested a king, YHWH responded to Samuel’s displeasure by commanding him to “Obey the people … [and] crown a king for them” (1 Sam 8:7aβ + 22aβ). In the received text, this bipartite command is interrupted by Samuel’s witness to the “customary behaviors of the king” (vv. 11–17). But the arrangement of Wiederaufnahmen in vv. 9a and 22aα suggest that these behaviors were nowhere adumbrated in the original state of the passage. In this section I argue that Samuel’s fulfillment of this command was originally carried out in the episode now contained in 1 Sam 10:17– 27*. In 1 Sam 8:22b, Samuel commands “the men of Israel” to depart, each going to his own city ( ֹ‫) ַויּ ֹאמֶ ר ְשׁמוּאֵ ל אֶ ל־אַ ְנשֵׁ י ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל לְ כוּ ִאישׁ לְ ﬠִ ירו‬. Although some have argued that 1 Sam 8* and 10:17–27* were originally separate episodes, 98 it is generally recognized that the two episodes belong together somehow, with 1 Sam 10:17–27* originally following immediately upon 1 Sam 8:22. 99 Accordingly, 1 Sam 8:22 would function as part of the literary structure wrapping the socalled “antimonarchic” story around the earlier narrative (i.e., the NSRB: 1 Sam 9:1–10:16*). But even when it is recognized that 1 Sam 8:22b is part of this framing material, commentators have been unable to achieve consensus on whether it was part of the earliest form of ch. 8 or whether it is secondary. In accounts holding the Deuteronomic composition of these episodes, interpreters typically understand 1 Sam 8:22b as part of the underlying construction, since it was the Deuteronomist himself who composed the material to surround the NSRB. 100 But in the source-critical analysis put forward here, an independent narrative underlies the Dtr redaction, suggesting that the Deuteronomist may have split his source material (the NSRC: minimally, 1 Sam 8:1–7*, 22 + 10:17–27*), threading it into the extant narrative episodes, and then composing the literary sutures that tie everything together. 101 It should be noted that the locution used here, the “men of Israel ( ‫אַ ְנשֵׁ י‬ ‫”) ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬, contrasts from the more specific “all the elders of Israel (‫”)כֹ ל זִקְ נֵי ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬ in 1 Sam 8:4a. 102 Moreover, the dispersal effected in 1 Sam 8:22b is undone in 428 F

429F

430F

431F

432F

98 99

100 101 102

E.g., Stoebe, Erste Buch, 214–215; Klein, 1 Samuel, 97–98; but cf. Hertzberg, I & II Samuel, 87. For example, Nihan (“1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 233) recognizes that “there can be no doubt that the account of Saul’s public election as king of Israel in verses 20–25 represents the fulfillment of the command given by YHWH to Samuel in 1 Sam 8:22a…” See earlier Veijola, Königtum, 53. E.g., Noth, Deuteronomistic History, 81; recently, Nihan, “Le(s) récit(s)”. E.g., Birch, Rise, 23–29, 42–54; McCarter, I Samuel, 19–20; Mommer, Samuel, 192–202, esp. 194– 195; Dietrich, 1 Samuel 1–12, 458–459; Hutton, “Long Live the King!” 282–300. Cf. Veijola (Königtum, 55); Tsumura (First Book, 261), who conflate the two phrases. Cf. LXXOG παντὶ τῷ λαῷ; LXXL παντὶ τὸν λαόν, both of which read ‫( כל העם‬reconstructable also in 4QSama, according to Cross et al., DJD XVII, 63). Compare also Tg.Jon. ‫ ;ית עמא‬and Pesh. ‫ܠܥܡܐ‬, both of which represent a Vorlage without ‫כל‬.

140

Jeremy M. Hutton

1 Sam 10:17, in which Samuel reconvenes the people (‫[ הָ ﬠָם‬1 Sam 10:17]) at Mizpah (‫)הַ ִמּצְ פָּה‬. 103 It is striking that in the scene narrating his fulfillment of the elders’ request at Ramah in ch. 8, Samuel reconvenes a gathering comprised of a different constituency at an alternate locale. Some recent discussions have viewed these lexical and geographical disjunctures between 1 Sam 8:4b ( ‫כֹ ל זִקְ נֵי‬ ‫ ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬, ‫)הָ ָרמָ תָ ה‬, on the one hand, and 1 Sam 8:22 (‫ )אַ ְנשֵׁ י ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬and 1 Sam 10:17 (‫הָ ﬠָם‬, ‫)הַ ִמּצְ פָּה‬, on the other, as indicative of multiple redactional efforts by a series of Dtr editors. 104 This seems to me to be a valid conclusion with respect to the alternation of the constituency gathered with Samuel in both episodes. But why would Samuel convene the people in a different locale? I have argued previously that a more streamlined approach to 1 Sam 10:17 views the contrasting data regarding the locale at which the convocation occurs as owing to further developments by an exilic-era Dtr editor (Dtr2 or DtrN). 105 In my view, the earliest (pre-exilic) Dtr redaction (which added both 1 Sam 8:22b and 10:17) had reconvened the gathering at Ramah, but a later (exilic era) redactor emended the locale to Mizpah for literary effect: the inauguration of the Israelite monarchy now occurred in the same locale at which it was definitively ended four hundred years later (2 Kgs 25:23–26; Jer 40–44). 106 Regardless of how we view the development of the storyline’s locale, the material moving “the men” out of Ramah (1 Sam 8:22b) and “the people” into Mizpah (1 Sam 10:17) is not integral, and serves only to account for the temporal discontinuity necessitated by the insertion of 1 Sam 9:1–10:16*. 107 In the original narrative, immediately after YHWH commands him to “Crown a king for them,” Samuel acts to fulfill the instruction. Unlike v. 17, v. 18aα1 is mundane and integral to a storyline assuming that Samuel was responding immediately to the people’s overture and YHWH’s corresponding instruction. Samuel begins a short oration (“And [Samuel] said to the Israelites”; ‫) ַויּ ֹאמֶ ר אֶ ל־בְּ נֵי ִישְֹ ָראֵ ל‬. 108 The remainder of the verse (v. 18aα2βb), however, is less pertinent to the narrative. The small verse-fragment v. 18aα2 is a prophetic mes43F

435F

436 F

437F

438F

103

104 105

106 107 108

E.g., Wellhausen, Prolegomena, 250; see similarly Smith, Samuel, 72; Hertzberg, I & II Samuel, 87, but cf. n. e; Stoebe, Erste Buch, 214–215; Veijola, Königtum, 39; McCarter, I Samuel, 159; Payne, I & II Samuel, 454–455; Campbell, 1 Samuel, 111–112, 114; Firth, 1 and 2 Samuel, 130–131. Dietrich (1 Samuel 1–12, 455) points out the difficult claim that the entire people Israel could be gathered in one place. See, e.g., Kratz, Composition, 172–173; Müller, Königtum, 119–196, esp. 148–149, 163; but cf. the response in Hutton, “Long Live the King!” 285 n. 22. Similarly, the convention at Mizpah is most likely a “secondary innovation added by a later redactor (probably reflecting on and foreshadowing the demise of the monarchy at Mizpah…)”; Hutton, “Long Live the King!” 286–293, quote from 291; cf. McKenzie, “Mizpah of Benjamin,” 153–154. E.g., Auld, I & II Samuel, 115; Achenbach, “Sogenannte Königsgesetz,” 226. E.g., McCarter, I Samuel, 159, 194–195; Nihan, “1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 233 n. 25. 4QSama reads [‫“ כול בנ]י‬all the sons of”.

Pre-Deuteronomistic Narrative in 1 Sam 8; 10*; 12

141

senger formula. 109 As was the case with 1 Sam 8:8, 10:18aβ–bα demonstrates a familiarity with Exodus traditions, and v. 18bβ refers to the period of the Judges, including using the verb ‫לח״ץ‬, which appears throughout the structural passages in the book of Judges (Judg 2:18; 4:3; 6:9; 10:12; see also Exod 3:9; Deut 26:7; 2 Kgs 13:4, 22). 110 As in section 3.1, this material can be assigned to a Dtr redactor. 111 Verse 19aα1 picks up the accusation of 1 Sam 8:7b that the people had effectively rejected YHWH as king when they demanded a human king ( ‫וְ אַ תֶּ ם הַ יּוֹ ם‬ ‫)מאַ ְסתֶּ ם אֶ ת־אֱ�הִ ים‬. ְ 112 As argued above, this ideology remains consistent with the underlying storyline. But v. 19aα2 departs from the main thread of the argument, again alluding to YHWH’s saving action during the period of the Judges. This latter portion of v. 19aα demonstrates knowledge of a much larger textual expanse, consistent with the Dtr overlay of 8:1b–3. 113 The second member of a recurring refrain appears in v. 19aβ: “and you said, ‘No! But you shall appoint a king over us!’” (‫ֹאמרוּ לוֹ כִּ י־מֶ לֶ� תָּ שִֹ ים ָﬠלֵינוּ‬ ְ ‫) ַותּ‬. As has been discussed above, Samuel’s quotation of the people’s demand in 1 Sam 8:5 (‫ שִֹ ימָ ה־לָּנוּ מֶ לֶ� לְ שָׁ פְ טֵ ינוּ‬... ‫ֹאמרוּ אֵ לָיו‬ ְ ‫ ) ַויּ‬is not verbatim. First, the preposition ְ‫ ל‬has been altered to ‫ﬠַל‬. I argued above that this may be a sign that the formulation in 1 Sam 10:19 is the second, added member of a Wiederaufnahme. Second, the phrase ‫ לְ שָׁ פְ טֵ ינוּ‬has not been repeated in 1 Sam 10:19. Although this omission might be chalked up simply to the author’s feeling that it was redundant, we saw above that it was also missing in Deut 17:14, which seems to have taken its impetus from the assignment of ‫ שׁפ״ט‬to the “judges and scribes” of Deut 16:18. This feature also positions 1 Sam 10:19aβ as part of the redactional addition. 114 Finally, one of the issues complicating analysis of v. 19 appears to be both composition- and text-critically significant: The odd addition of a third-person addressee in v. 19aβ ( ֹ‫“ לו‬to him”) makes no sense in the context, unless that 40F

41F

42F

43 F

4F

109 110 111

112 113

114

E.g., Tsumura, First Book, 297. Although Birch (Rise, 48) viewed this as a reason to doubt the Dtr origins of the verse, I follow McKenzie (“Trouble,” 291) in rejecting this reasoning. Veijola, Königtum, 42–48. In particular, Veijola (ibid., 43–44) compares the close lexical correspondences between 1 Sam 10:18aβγb and Judg 6:8bβ–9a (but cf. Birch, Rise, 47–48). Hutton, “Long Live the King!” 288–289; Nihan, “1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 240–250. See already Nelson, Double Redaction, 48; McKenzie, “Trouble,” 287–288, 290; Campbell, 1 Samuel, 112. Veijola (Königtum, 41–48) and Dietrich (“History and Law,” 331) view vv. 18aβγb–19a as secondary, attributable to DtrN; similarly, O’Brien, Deuteronomistic History Hypothesis, 116; Achenbach, “Sogenannte Königsgesetz,” 227. Note the irregular usage of ‫ אלהים‬here; for the most part, the tetragrammaton is used to denote the deity in the passages under investigation. Note the employment of ‫“( היום‬today”; v. 19aα1), which would seem to connect the “rejection” of which they are accused in this verse with the “rejection” of YHWH in 8:7 (but cf. Campbell, 1 Samuel, 112). Hentschel (1 Samuel, 83) views this as a sign that the redactor who added v. 19 views this episode as occurring on the same day as the assembly in 1 Sam 8; I also view it as an indicator that v. 19aα1 actually belonged to the narrative’s Grundbestand. See similarly Dietrich, 1 Samuel 1–12, 457; cf. McKenzie (“Trouble,” 290), who attributes v. 19a to Dtr, rather than to a later redaction. I agree that the verse “do[es] not condemn monarchy per se but accuse[s] the people of trusting in a king instead of in YHWH, who saved them in the past.”

142

Jeremy M. Hutton

addressee is assumed to be YHWH – but it was Samuel to whom the elders were speaking in 1 Sam 8:5, and there is no indication that they perceive themselves to be talking directly to YHWH. Moreover, the repetition of the request in 1 Sam 10:19aβ contains a non-sensical particle ‫כִּ י‬. In the present context, the particle can be read in one of three ways: it can be read as an asseverative particle (“indeed!”) 115; with causal force (“for, because”) 116; or with a contrastive nuance (“but rather”). 117 Although the first alternative is possible (“Indeed, you shall anoint a king over us!”), the likelihood of this particle being read as an asseverative remains disputed by some Hebrew grammarians. 118 The causal reading (“For you shall place a king over us!”) seems difficult in the context, despite the fact that ‫כִּ י‬ possesses a semantic range permitting its use without an explicit statement of the “natural laws” underlying the reason, but only “the speaker’s own reasoning”. 119 However, the causal reading fits better in the next member of the repeating phrase in MT 1 Sam 12:12: “and you said to me, ‘No! For a king shall rule over us (‫ֹאמרוּ לִ י ל ֹא כִּ י־מֶ לֶ� ִי ְמ�� ָﬠלֵינוּ‬ ְ ‫ ”’!) ַותּ‬Here, the use of ‫ כִּ י‬is plausibly causal, since it would profile the adjuration of the people (‫ )כִּ י־מֶ לֶ� ִי ְמ�� ָﬠלֵינוּ‬as motivating their refusal through the use of the negative adverb. Thus, rereading ‫ לו‬in 1 Sam 10:19aβ as the graphically similar ‫[“( לִ י‬you said] to me”) would provide a more sensible reading, especially if the negative adverb ‫ ל ֹא‬is also supplied in the verse. The contrastive reading of ‫ כִּ י‬would work well in all three formulas (1 Sam 8:19b [‫ ;]כִּ י ִאם‬10:19aβ; and 12:12aβ), where it would assume that the alternative proposed by Samuel was to retain the current system, in which YHWH ruled as Israel’s king and administered by an earthly regent: 45 F

46F

47F

1 Sam 8:19b: “they said , 120 ‘No! Instead (‫ )כִּ י ִאם‬a king shall be over us!” 1 Sam 10:19aβ: “you said to , 121 ‘Instead (‫)כִּ י‬, you shall appoint a king over us!” 1 Sam 12:12aβ: “you said to me, 122 ‘No! Instead (‫)כִּ י‬, a king shall rule over us!”

115 116 117 118

119 120

121

122

E.g., Williams, Hebrew Syntax, 73 §449; BHRG 303 §40.9.II.5; GBHS 153–154 §4.3.4.i. E.g., Williams, Hebrew Syntax, 72 §444; BHRG 300–303 esp. §40.9.I.3 (subordinating function), §40.9.II.2.ii (coordinating function); GBHS 149 §4.3.4.a, b (evidential function). E.g., Williams, Hebrew Syntax, 72 §447; BHRG 303 §40.9.II.3; GBHS 152 §4.3.4.g. For discussion, see, e.g., Aejmelaeus, “Function,” esp. 208–209. Although Aejmelaeus allows for an “emphatic” usage of ‫כִּ י‬, she notes the restricted contexts in which this function can be said definitively to appear. BHRG 302 §40.9.II.2.ii. If Cross et al. (DJD XVII, p. 59) are to be followed in their reconstruction of 4QSama on the basis of line-length, it seems likely that the text originally read only ‫( לא‬e.g., Tg.Jon. ‫)לא‬. Others (e.g., Auld, I & II Samuel, 93) suggest that the original reading was ‫ לו לא‬on the basis of LXXOG (ἀυτῷ οὐχί), Pesh. (� ‫)ܘܐܡܪܘ ܠܗ‬, and a few Hebrew manuscripts (reading ‫)לו‬. De Boer (BHS, ad loc.) notes that a few Hebrew manuscripts add ‫לא‬, two read ‫לי‬, and a few read ‫( לי לא‬as is expected on comparison with 1 Sam 12:12). Many manuscripts read simply ‫ לא‬here, as does much of the versional evidence (e.g., LXXOG: οὐχί; Pesh.: �). Tg.Jon. is expansive here, delineating how the people protest Samuel’s characterization of their refusal to listen. With, e.g., Tg.Jon. ‫ ;לי לא‬cf. LXXOG, which reads only οὐχί here (see also Pesh.: ‫)� ܗܟܢܐ‬.

Pre-Deuteronomistic Narrative in 1 Sam 8; 10*; 12

143

At the very least, these three verses (1 Sam 8:19b; 10:19aβ; 12:12aβ) comprise a refrain in which the various members have experienced cross-contamination and, likely, corruption in one or more of the members. But no matter which of these possible readings is adopted, we should recognize the possibility that the repetition may go beyond a synchronic literary refrain. Like YHWH’s repeated adjuration to “Obey them/the people” (1 Sam 8:7aβ, 9a, 22aα), the adaptations of 1 Sam 8:5 in 8:19b; 10:19aβ; and 12:12aβ bear hallmarks of being secondary members of a Wiederaufnahme indicating that much of the intervening text has been inserted by a redactor (or, in this case, that a redactor is working to splice together two extant narratives). Regardless of whether the member in 1 Sam 10:19aβ is to be retained as original to the text’s Grundschrift, or is instead assigned to the work of the Dtr redactor, recognizing it as textual emendation of some sort is desirable. We should probably emend to something like (!‫ֹאמרוּ )לִ י‬ ְ ‫ַותּ‬ ‫ל ֹא כִּ י־מֶ לֶ� תָּ שִֹ ים ָﬠלֵינוּ‬, in which ‫ כִּ י‬is understood to have the contrastive or causative sense (“you said [to ], ‘No! Instead/Because, you shall place a king over us!”). After he accuses the people of rejecting YHWH (v. 19aα1), Samuel’s oration continues in v. 19b. In order to begin the process of selecting the new king, Samuel commands them, “Now, take your stand before YHWH, by your tribes and by your families” (‫)וְ ַﬠתָּ ה הִ ְתיַצְּ בוּ לִ פְ נֵי י״ לְ ִשׁבְ טֵ יכֶם וּלְ אַ לְ פֵיכֶם‬. This command organizes the group for a selection process that will be administered by Samuel – but the precise mode of that selection process remains unclear. As has been successfully argued by Martin Noth and Otto Eissfeldt, there are signs even within vv. 20–24 that two traditions have been preserved here. 123 In the first, contained in vv. 20– 21abα, Samuel participates in a selection process using an oracular device of some sort. This could be a process in which he performs the role of interpreting a binary oracular device (e.g., the ʾûrîm and tummîm), or it could be a more conventional lot-selection process in which Samuel plays only the role of the officiant; the items used as “lots” would be either tokens supplied by the candidates themselves or an official collection of relatively uniform items (such as astragali). 124 In the second traditum (vv. 21bβ–24), however, Samuel would have served as a mantic oracular specialist, who utters an oracle – likely to the effect of calling out the person whose great height qualifies him for leadership. 125 Thus, 453F

45F

45F

123

124 125

See also Hertzberg, I & II Samuel, 88–89; Birch, Rise, 43–47; Hentschel, 1 Samuel, 82–83; Klein, 1 Samuel, 99; Campbell, 1 Samuel, 112; but cf. Mettinger, King and Messiah, 179–182; Veijola, Königtum, 39–40; McKenzie, “Trouble,” 289; Nihan, “Le(s) récit(s),” 165. I have already written extensively about the actual process in Hutton, “Long Live the King!” 293–300; it is therefore unnecessary to offer more than a brief summary here. I disagree with McKenzie (“Trouble,” 289) and others, who argue that Dtr received the motif of Saul’s great height from the so-called “early narrative” (specifically, 1 Sam 9:2; cf. also an alternative explanation in Hertzberg, I & II Samuel, 89). But the relevant clause (‫ִמ ִשּׁכְ מוֹ וָמַ ﬠְ לָה גָּבֹ הַּ ִמכָּל־‬ ‫ ;הָ ﬠָם‬v. 2b), which largely overlaps with 1 Sam 10:23b, sits at the end of the verse and appears to overfill it. This clause could just as easily be a harmonizing importation into 1 Sam 9:2 on the basis of the later passage.

144

Jeremy M. Hutton

Saul’s stature a head above his congeners (‫ ; ַויִּגְ ַֹבּהּ ִמכָּל־הָ ﬠָם ִמ ִשּׁכְ מוֹ וָמָ ָﬠלָה‬v. 23b) is deserving of special mention. It is difficult to sort through which, if either, of these traditions is the earlier of the two. Eissfeldt argued that each was representative of an older source, both of which were incorporated into the present text by the Dtr redactor. 126 But this hypothesis seems untenable with the analysis of the relationship between chs. 8* and 10:17–27* offered here. I have been able to trace only a single pre-Dtr narrative underlying these chapters; that narrative is both unified (consistent) and coherent. Adopting Eissfeldt’s hypothesis would therefore require us to assume that one of the earlier traditions had donated an exceptionally small amount of material to the received text – only a couple of verses – and that the rest had been jettisoned completely. Similarly, Walter Dietrich has argued recently that both traditions are early and were combined by an author or redactor prior to their incorporation in the Deuteronomist’s story. 127 In this model, the two traditions were already tightly intertwined by the time that the Dtr redactor incorporated them in 1 Sam 10:17–27*. 128 As an alternative to this view, we might conclude that one of the two traditions is a secondary addition. Noth, for example, argued that the oracular story (vv. 21abβ–24) described the original process, but that the lot-selection scene (vv. 20–21abα) was inserted by Dtr, who “was embarrassed by the thought that a man’s height could seal a nation’s fate”. 129 This process closely resembled that in Josh 7:16–18, which Noth also attributed to Dtr. 130 I have argued elsewhere that the Ahansali igurramen (cultic functionaries among the Berber tribes of the High Atlas Mountains) provide an ethnographic parallel for the institutional activity undertaken by Samuel. 131 The Berber tribes of the pre-Protectorate period resembled Iron Age Israel in the significant aspects of segmentary (i.e., tribe- and clan-based) social organization and reliance on varying modes of production in subsistence agriculture. The igurramen arbitrated disputes between the sedentary groups and the transhumant pastoralists whose biannual migrations with their flocks frequently place them in conflict with the more stationary crop-farmers. More important for the purposes of this study, the igurramen managed the selection of the tribes’ rotating chieftain. 126 127 128

129 130

131

Eissfeldt, Komposition, 7–11; see also Birch, Rise, 44–47. Dietrich, 1 Samuel 1–12, 458–459. Dietrich (1 Samuel 1–12, 454–455) considers it unlikely that the whole people could be gathered in one place, suggesting instead that the Kriegsvolk (i.e., males capable of going to war) might be meant. Hutton, “Long Live the King!” 299–300, citing Noth, Deuteronomistic History, 82. See earlier O’Brien, Deuteronomistic History Hypothesis, 116–117. Noth, Deuteronomistic History, 82; Veijola, Königtum, 51. Veijola (ibid., 39) points out that Saul must have known that he would be selected in the lot-selection ceremony. This is the only explanation, he avers, for Saul having hidden in the baggage. I disagree that this is the only possible explanation, but Veijola’s point does carry heft. Hutton, “Long Live the King!” 300–315.

Pre-Deuteronomistic Narrative in 1 Sam 8; 10*; 12

145

They did so by (a) supervising lay tribal elections, thereby providing “transcendental sanction” to the proceedings; (b) providing a neutral locale for the proceedings to take place; (c) ensuring that principles of rotation and complementarity were followed; and (d) assisting in achieving a consensus among the tribes that were to be governed by the new chieftain. 132 Together, these functions closely mirror the role played by Samuel in the Grundschrift of the narrative that has been traced in 1 Sam 8* + 10:17–27*. There may be good reason, therefore, to consider the lot-selection process in vv. 20–21abα as the original traditum upon which vv. 21abβ–24 were added. At the same time, there are textual complications suggesting that vv. 20– 21abα may have more in common with the Dtr redaction than with the literary horizon of the underlying narrative, even if the principle of complementarity among the tribes clearly underlies the processes alluded to in 1 Sam 10:19b– 21abα. The narrator relates that Samuel calls forward “your tribes” (‫)שׁבְ טֵ יכֶם‬ ִ and “your clans” (‫ )אַ לְ פֵיכֶם‬in v. 19b; technically, these terms are consistent with the underlying narrative, since the elders (1 Sam 8:4) of Israel could naturally be divided into their groups of patrilineal affiliation according to tribes and clans. But the sequence of selections represented in vv. 20–21abα uses a slightly different vocabulary. Verse 20 informs the reader that Samuel first brought forward ִ ‫)אֶ ת כּ‬.” Although the basic nominal (‫ ) ַויַּקְ ֵרב‬133 “all the tribes of Israel (‫ָל־שׁבְ טֵ י ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬ term here (‫ )שֵׁ בֶ ט‬coincides with that used in v. 19b, the extension of the constituency to “all the tribes of Israel” would seem to mimic the broader view of 1 Sam 8:2 (mentioning ‫)בְ אֵ ר שָׁ בַ ע‬, 1 Sam 10:17 (‫הָ ﬠָם‬, ‫)בְּ נֵי ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬. Two Hebrew manuscripts contain the reading ‫אֶ ת כָּל־זִקְ נֵי ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬. 134 Although this reading would place v. 21a in correspondence with 1 Sam 8:4, this seems to be a minority reading, 135 likely a secondary leveling to draw these two chapters closer together. The second level of selection uses ‫ ִמ ְשׁ ַפּחַ ת‬in opposition to v. 19b’s use of ‫אֶ לֶף‬. 136 Although the two terms are not mutually exclusive, ‫ ִמ ְשׁ ַפּחַ ת‬does appear in Josh 7:17 (3x, for two different levels of filiation!). In short, although I have previously argued for the original status of vv. 20– 21abα – largely on the basis of their following from v. 19b – I would now follow Noth in assigning those verses as secondary. They have apparently displaced the oracular part of a process in which Samuel, after telling the elders to line up 132

133 134 135 136

Hutton, “Long Live the King!” esp. 310–315. Normally, the selection process did not necessitate the presence of the entire people. Instead, it required only the presence of the senior members of each tribe or familial unit; this datum further supports the assertion above that the underlying story used the “elders” (i.e., the pater familias of each bêt ʾāb) in 8:4 to designate those who had gathered in Ramah. Achenbach (“Sogenannte Königsgesetz,” 227–228) points to the lexical overlap between ‫ַויַּקְ ֵרב‬ in this verse and ‫קֶּרב‬ ֶ ‫ ִמ‬in Deut 17:15. De Boer, BHS, ad loc. Cf. LXXOG πάντα τὰ σκῆπτρα Ἰσραήλ; LXXL πάντα τὰς φυλάς; Tg.Jon. ‫ ;ית כל שבטיא דישראל‬Pesh. ‫ܠܟܠܗܘܢ ܫܒܛܐ ܕܐܝܣܪܝܠ‬. None of these versions suggests a departure from MT. McCarter (I Samuel, 190) reads ‫“( ולמשפחתיכם‬and by your families”) on the basis of LXXB here.

146

Jeremy M. Hutton

according to their tribal (‫ )שֵׁ בֶ ט‬and clan (‫ )אֶ לֶף‬affiliations (v. 19b), announces that YHWH has chosen the one who stood head and shoulder above the rest. 137 When no such person is found who qualifies (v. 21bβ), the elders “again” enquire of YHWH (‫ ) ַו ִיּ ְשׁאֲלוּ־עוֹ ד בַּ י״‬if anyone else has come (v. 22a). 138 YHWH answers that the chosen one has, in fact, come and is hiding among the baggage (‫הִ נֵּה־הוּא נֶחְ בָּ א אֶ ל־‬ ‫ ;הַ כֵּלִ ים‬v. 22b). The rest of the people at the convocation “ran and took him from there, and he took his stand (‫ ) ַו ִיּ ְתיַצֵּ ב‬in the midst of the people (‫( ”)בְּ תוֹ � הָ ﬠָם‬v. 23a). The use of the hitpael stem of ‫ יצ״ב‬picks up on the same root in v. 19b, suggesting conformity with the underlying narrative. And although the phrase ‫בְּ תוֹ � הָ ﬠָם‬ would seem to pick up on the vocabulary of the secondary v. 17 (‫)הָ ﬠָם‬, this term is vague enough so as to apply easily to the other heads of household gathered at Ramah (cf. 1 Sam 8:7, where the term also appears in what I argue is the underlying narrative). It is at this point that Saul’s height relative to his contemporaries is made manifest: “he was taller than all the people (‫ )הָ ﬠָם‬from his shoulder upwards.” Although the same lexeme (‫ )הָ ﬠָם‬appears again here, nothing about v. 23 demands that it be excised from the original storyline. In that regard, v. 23 seems to be of a piece with vv. 21bβ–22. Verse 24 serves as a suitable ending to both of the short tradita described above. Samuel then speaks “to all the people (‫)אֶ ל־ ָכּל־הָ ﬠָם‬.” He asks those assembled “Have you seen (the one) whom YHWH has chosen? For there is none like him among all the people (‫( ”)הַ ְרּ ִאיתֶ ם ֲאשֶׁ ר בָּ חַ ר־בּוֹ י״ כִּ י אֵ ין כָּמֹ הוּ בְּ כָל־הָ ﬠָם‬v. 24a). As discussed above, Nihan has observed the similarity in the locution between this verse and Deut 17:15a, which limits the selection of Israel’s king to the “king whom your God will select” ( ֹ‫)מֶ לֶ� ֲאשֶׁ ר יִבְ חַ ר י״ אֱ�הֶ י� בּו‬. The locution is indeed very similar; the only divergence between the two is the “plus” comprised by �‫ אֱ�הֶ י‬in Deut 17:15a. But does this similarity demand that the account in 1 Sam 10:17–27* is derivative from Deut 17:14–20? An additional consideration should give us pause before accepting the dependence of 1 Sam 10:17–27* on Deut 17:14–20. The grammatical structure of 1 Sam 10:24b is ambiguous on two points, each of which may bear on the source- and redaction-critical analysis of 1 Sam 10:17– 27*. First, I have translated ‫ ֲאשֶׁ ר‬in 1 Sam 10:24b as a relative clause with a null head (“[the one] whom YHWH has chosen”). 139 The particle is used unambiguously in the same way in Deut 17:15a. However, it is possible that the author of 469F

137 138

139

I mark this material, which had to be removed when vv. 20–21abα were added, ≪bold and with double angle-brackets≫ in the passage below. The appearance of the adverb ‫ עוֹ ד‬here strikes the reader as superfluous, since the elders have not previously made an inquiry in the present form of the text. The word, therefore, is a relic pointing to an earlier inquiry that has been replaced – probably something along the lines of, “Who among us shall be king?” (See, e.g., O’Brien, Deuteronomistic History Hypothesis, 117; cf. Birch, Rise, 47, who views it as a marker of redaction). Firth (1 and 2 Samuel, 132) gestures at the literary oddity of Saul’s disappearance. For the terminology of “null head”, see Holmstedt, Relative Clause, 43–44; Holmstedt discusses this verb on 140 n. 7, 174–175 n. 48.

Pre-Deuteronomistic Narrative in 1 Sam 8; 10*; 12

147

1 Sam 10:24a intended ‫ ֲאשֶׁ ר‬to be read not as the relative particle but as a complementizer, effectively making a declarative sentence into the object of the verb ‫ר ִאיתֶ ם‬.ְ Accordingly, the appropriate translation would be, “Have you seen that (‫ ) ֲאשֶׁ ר‬YHWH has chosen him, because there is none like him among all the people?” Robert Holmstedt has argued recently that ‫ ֲאשֶׁ ר‬originally functioned as a nominalizing particle. This nominalizer had been reanalyzed as “introducing relative and complement clauses” “[a]t some point before Hebrew is attested” in epigraphic writing. 140 Although some grammars argue that this usage increases during the post-exilic period, 141 the two positions are not mutually exclusive. It is possible that the complementizing function was intended by the original author, and was therefore distinct from the meaning of ‫ ֲאשֶׁ ר‬found in Deut 17:15a. It was the other common meaning of ‫ ֲאשֶׁ ר‬as introducing a relative clause that was later actualized by the Deuteronomic author. But this scenario may simply be unnecessary to posit. More important is the polyvalence of the particle ‫כִּ י‬. In the translation offered above, ‫ כִּ י‬plays the role of a causal particle (“for, because”). Grammatically, it can motivate either the elders’ “seeing” or YHWH’s “choosing”: either YHWH has chosen Saul because there is none like him among the people, or the people will see Saul’s irregular height as a marker of YHWH’s selection. In the former case, it would be odd that YHWH had chosen Saul merely on the basis of his height. 142 In the latter case, although Saul’s stature is a mere epiphenomenon, it nonetheless motivates the people’s recognition that YHWH has selected him. This understanding is preferred at the level of the present text: after Saul takes his place among the other heads of household, his exceeding height marks him as the one whom YHWH has selected. No other rationale is given – the audience is not granted a glimpse into YHWH’s interiority – but after the lot-selection scene, no explicit mention is made of Saul’s identity as an Israelite. Other than sharing essential vocabulary with Deut 17:15a, 1 Sam 10:24 therefore seems ignorant of Deuteronomy’s stipulation that YHWH choose the king so as to ensure that an Israelite rules over the people. A second solution presents itself, however. The particle ‫ כִּ י‬functions not only as a causal conjunction, but also as a complementizer. In this reading, ‫ כִּ י‬would make the substance of the claim into the object of the verb; the substantivized relative clause ‫ ֲאשֶׁ ר בָּ חַ ר־בּוֹ י״‬would thus stand outside the syntax of the main clause as an extraposed relative clause: “Have you seen – (with respect for the one) whom YHWH has chosen – that there is none like him among all the people?” This means that the phrase ‫ ֲאשֶׁ ר בָּ חַ ר־בּוֹ י״‬is completely unnecessary to the 472F

140 141 142

Holmstedt, Relative Clause, 225 (my emphasis), see also 229–235; Williams, Hebrew Syntax, 76 §464; GBHS 172 §5.2.1.a. For a discussion of the diachronic development, see, e.g., Holmstedt, Relative Clause, 231–232. E.g., Birch, Rise, 46. Compare also the instruction directed to Samuel in 1 Sam 16:7 that he should “not look at [Elihu’s] appearance or his tall stature, for it is not what a person sees – because people see with the eyes, but YHWH looks into the heart.”

148

Jeremy M. Hutton

sentence’s syntax, and could be completely excised as secondary, leaving ‫הַ ְרּ ִאיתֶ ם‬ ‫כִּ י אֵ ין כָּמֹ הוּ בְּ כָל־הָ ﬠָם‬, “Have you seen/do you see that there is none like him among all the people?” In other words, the exact portion of the locution that overlaps with Deut 17:15a’s formulation is potentially ancillary to the basic meaning of 1 Sam 10:24a. 143 Even if Deut 17:15a is viewed as the origination point of the phrase ‫ ֲאשֶׁ ר‬+ ‫ בח״ר‬+ PN + ‫בו‬, it is unnecessary to view Deuteronomy as influencing the remainder of the base narrative of 1 Sam 10:17–27*. I therefore mark v. 24aα2* (except ‫ )הַ ְרּ ִאיתֶ ם‬in the passage below as potentially secondary; this is indicated using [square brackets]. 144 After Samuel asks the elders gathered with him to recognize YHWH’s selection, they acclaim Saul as king (v. 24b): “All the people shouted, 145 and they said, ‘Long live the king!’ (�ֶ‫ֹאמרוּ ְיחִ י הַ מֶּ ל‬ ְ ‫ ”) ַויּ ִָרעוּ כָל־הָ ﬠָם ַויּ‬This acclamation marks the climax of the passage, when the king whom YHWH has chosen and whom Samuel has presented to the people is accepted and acclaimed by the elders. Now that the assembly has accomplished what they set out to do, the reader is treated to several verses of denouement in the present text. First, Samuel speaks to the people the “custom of the kingship (‫) ִמ ְשׁ ַפּט הַ ְמּ ֻלכָה‬,” which he writes in a document and deposits before YHWH (v. 25a). It is unclear what exactly this term refers to. The reader has previously been introduced to the “custom of the king” (�ֶ‫ ; ִמ ְשׁ ַפּט הַ מֶּ ל‬1 Sam 8:9) and most recensions of the LXX (excluding the Lucianic texts) read τοῦ βασιλέως (“of the king”) at 1 Sam 10:25a. If this is what is intended by MT’s mišpaṭ hammǝlūkāh, then v. 25a likely participates in the same secondary layer underlying the lengthy addition in 1 Sam 8:9b–21*. 146 Verse 25b also contains evidently secondary material. As in 1 Sam 8:22b, Samuel sends the people away ( ֹ‫) ַו ְיּשַׁ לַּח ְשׁמוּאֵ ל אֶ ת־כָּל־הָ ﬠָם ִאישׁ לְ בֵ יתו‬. The locution does not match 1 Sam 8:22b precisely in MT ( ֹ‫)לְ כוּ ִאישׁ לְ ﬠִ ירו‬, and the versional evidence differs here as well (4QSama: ]‫ ;למק‬LXXOG: εἰς τὁν τόπον). Nonetheless, this verse seems to serve exactly the same purpose as 1 Sam 8:22b. Saul, too, returns home to Gibeah, and with him go the people whom YHWH has inspired to attend to Saul (v. 26). As was described above, 1 Sam 8:22b serves the redac47F

476 F

143

144 145 146

This observation also helps to undercut Veijola’s argument (Königtum, 55–56) that the people’s “choosing” of the king in 1 Sam 8:18 and YHWH’s “choosing” of Saul in v. 24 stand in tension to one another, with v. 24 written by DtrG and v. 18 by DtrN. The two are thematically different, since in 8:18 the people have only “chosen” to have a human king (without the king’s identity being made known yet), while in 1 Sam 10:24, YHWH has selected the individual who will be king (compare, e.g., Dietrich, “History and Law,” 328–329). See n. 84 above for discussion. ‫ מא״ס‬and ‫ בח״ר‬may have made their way into Dtr idiom (e.g., 1 Sam 12:13a), but their history of usage seems to extend further back in time. Cf. LXXOG (ἔγνωσαν), which Auld (I & II Samuel, 115) argues read ‫וידעו‬, “and they knew”. The coincidence of ‫ ְמ ֻלכָה‬in 1 Sam 10:25a with the same word in v. 16 may indicate the latter verse’s dependence (or a secondary change that was made on the basis of v. 16); see Tsumura, First Book, 296. McCarter (I Samuel) prefers MT as the original reading (see also Birch, Rise, 25, 52). Achenbach (“Sogenannte Königsgesetz,” 226) points to the expansive view of the deposition of the ‫( ִמ ְשׁפַּט הַ ְמּ ֻלכָה‬compare the deposit of Deuteronomy with the Levitical Priests in Deut 31:9; see also O’Brien, Deuteronomistic History Hypothesis, 117–118).

Pre-Deuteronomistic Narrative in 1 Sam 8; 10*; 12

149

tional purpose of moving the people away from Ramah in order to make conceptual space for the narrative of the NSRB (1 Sam 9:1–10:16). The same function is served by 1 Sam 10:25b–26, which place Saul back in Gibeah in anticipation of the NSRA (1 Sam 11:1–11*; see esp. v. 4 [‫)]גִּ בְ ַﬠת שָׁ אוּל‬. 147 Just as Saul sent the elders of Israel away in 8:22b only to reassemble them in Mizpah (originally Ramah?) in 1 Sam 10:17, so too is the distribution of 1 Sam 10:25b reversed in 1 Sam 11:15, another verse commonly recognized as secondary to its context. 148 There, the site of assembly is listed as Gilgal (‫)גִּ לְ גָּל‬, yet another one of the locales listed in 1 Sam 7:16 as part of Samuel’s yearly circuit (along with Bethel and Mizpah). Although none of the material in vv. 25b–26 contains identifiably Dtr lexemes or themes, it remains consistent with the function of the redactional materials that have so far been accounted as secondary. Verse 27 also seems to be more concerned with connecting the episode in 1 Sam 10:17–27* with other episodes of Saul’s ascendancy. Here, certain scoundrels (‫ )בְּ נֵי בְ לִ ַיﬠַל‬doubt Saul’s ability to “deliver” (‫ )ישׁ״ע‬them, refusing to bring him tribute (v. 27a). This motif is picked up again in 1 Sam 11:12–13, where those who questioned Saul’s rule (‫ )שָׁ אוּל ִי ְמ�� ָﬠלֵינוּ‬are threatened with death but saved through Saul’s graciousness (‫)ל ֹא־יוּמַ ת ִאישׁ בַּ יּוֹ ם הַ זֶּה‬. 149 The apparent connection between 1 Sam 10:27a and 11:12–13 suggests that both passages are secondary. The textual difficulties posed by v. 27b (‫ ) ַו ְיּהִ י כְּ מַ ח ֲִרישׁ‬are well-known and need not be discussed here beyond noting that the half-verse may have originally been connected to 1 Sam 11:1 as a circumstantial clause. 150 To conclude this section, then, I have argued it is possible to make out the continuation of the underlying pre-Dtr story in 1 Sam 8* in 10:18aα1, 19aα1, 19aβb + ≪omitted text≫ + 21bβ, 22–23, 24aα1, 24aα2*, 24αβb: 480F

And (Samuel) said to the Israelites: 19aα1“You yourselves have today rejected your god, (when) you said, ‘No! Instead, a king shall rule over us.’ 19bSo now, take your stand before YHWH by your tribes and by your clans.” ≪The people inquired of YHWH, “Who will reign over us?” And YHWH replied through Samuel, “The one who is taller than everyone else by a head.”≫ 21bβAnd they looked for him, but he could not be found. 22They inquired again of YHWH, “Is anyone else going to come here?” 23And YHWH said, “Look, he is hiding among the baggage.” So they ran and bought him from there and he took his 18aα1 19aβ*

147

148

149 150

See, e.g., Veijola, Königtum, 40; McKenzie, “Trouble,” 292. Oddly, although Saul is “correctly” removed to Gibeah in 1 Sam 10:25b, so too is “the army whose hearts God touched (‫הַ חַ יִל אֲשֶׁ ר־‬ ‫) ָנגַע אֱ�הִ ים ְבּלִ בָּ ם‬.” This group does not appear in 1 Sam 11:1–13* (e.g., Wellhausen, Prolegomena, 250), but the redactor who added 1 Sam 10:25b may have intended to imply that the ‫ חַ יִ ל‬was coextensive with the army mustered by Saul in 1 Sam 11:8. McCarter (I Samuel, 191; similarly, Birch, Rise, 52) reads “stalwart men” on the basis of 4QSama ‫( בני החיל‬but cf. LXXOG υἱοὶ λομοὶ). It is further worth noting that the divine name, which is used ubiquitously throughout the older narrative that we have been tracking is replaced here by the generic ‫אֱ�הִ ים‬. Tsumura (First Book, 317) asserts that 1 Sam 12:1 begins a new section, bereft of geographical setting. I prefer, however, to understand 1 Sam 11:14–15 as redactional material added by a Dtr editor to incorporate this final episode of the NSRC into its surrounding text (see similarly Hertzberg, I & II Samuel, 97; Firth, 1 and 2 Samuel, 145). E.g., Veijola, Königtum, 40; McKenzie, “Trouble,” 292. Auld, I & II Samuel, 117–118; but cf. Herbert, “4QSama,” 50–54.

150

Jeremy M. Hutton stand among the people, and he was taller than all the people from his shoulder upwards. 24aα1 Then Samuel said to all the people, 24aα2*(‫“)הַ ְרּ ִאיתֶ ם‬Do you see [(the one) whom YHWH has chosen] – 24aβthat there is none like him among all the people? 24bAll the people shouted, and they said, “Long live the king!”

3.4

Continuity between 10:17–27* + 12*

As discussed above, Nihan’s study argues that 1 Sam 12 was a wholesale addition on the part of a post-Dtr editor. In this regard, his analysis follows closely upon earlier work by Reinhard Müller. Together, they have pointed to several features connecting 1 Sam 12 with other passages manifesting a patently late viewpoint. The “historical retrospective” that begins in 1 Sam 12:6 and extends through the next several verses (through v. 12) bears lexical overlap with Josh 24:4b–7. Among these connections are: a) 1 Sam 12:8 describes “YHWH ‘sending’ (‫ )שלח‬Moses and Aaron in order to bring the people out of Egypt (‫ יצא‬hiphil),” connecting this verse with Josh 24:5. 151 b) the coincidence of “‘your fathers’ (‫ )אבותיכם‬after ‫ יצא‬in the hiphil in 12:5” [sic; Nihan means 12:8] and Josh 24:6aα. This collocation also occurs in 1 Kgs 8:53 and 9:9, which Nihan considers “late passages.” 152 c) “The people’s confession in 12:10 is modeled on Judg 10:10–16…; however, the motif of the people forsaking (‫ )עזב‬YHWH to serve (‫ )עבד‬other deities was already introduced as a key motif in … Josh 24 (see 24:16, 20),” which Nihan views as “the source text for Judges 10:10–16 as well.” 153 d) Nihan points to several thematic and lexical parallels between Josh 24:14–15 and 1 Sam 12:14–15, 24–25. 154 Although it cannot be described in its entirety here, Nihan’s argument is forceful. I do not intend to argue against his conclusion that the vast majority of 1 Samuel 12 is the work of a late redactor whose task was to “align the account of the establishment of kingship in Israel beginning in 1 Sam 8 with the basic alternative developed in the second part of Josh 24 (vv. 14–27) between serving/worshiping YHWH and serving/worshiping other deities.” 155 Yet, regardless of whether one assigns this redactional stratum to the work of a later Dtr redac481F

482F

483F

151

152 153 154 155

Nihan, “1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 260. Note that two verses prior to this, Samuel describes YHWH as having “made (‫ ”)עשׁ״ה‬Moses and Aaron and having “brought up (‫ על״ה‬hiphil)” Israel from Egypt. Although space constraints prohibit further investigation of 1 Sam 12:6–25, we should not discount the likelihood that a second redactor was at work in ch. 12; the most reasonable explanation, in my view, is that the secondary materials of the chapter can be attributed to two Dtr redactors (i.e., Dtr1/DtrG and Dtr2/DtrN), the latter of which was accountable for the narrative horizon that Nihan (“1 Samuel 8 and 12”) considers “post-Deuteronomistic”. Nihan, “1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 260 and n. 101. Nihan, “1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 260. Nihan, “1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 260–261. Nihan, “1 Samuel 8 and 12,” 262.

Pre-Deuteronomistic Narrative in 1 Sam 8; 10*; 12

151

tor (e.g., Dtr2/DtrN) 156 or to a post-Dtr redaction (as does Nihan), we should attend to a set of verses that are not among those compared with the other late texts. Specifically, vv. 1–5* would serve as a nearly perfect denouement to the story we have so far traced throughout 1 Sam 8*; 10:17–27*. This episode begins with Samuel addressing the assembly. He speaks “to all Israel (‫( ”)אֶ ל־כָּל־ ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬v. 1aα*). 157 As with the gathering of “the people” (‫ )הָ ﬠָם‬in 1 Sam 10:17, this is a variant formulation of the original group that had come to Samuel in 1 Sam 8:4 ( ‫כֹּ ל‬ ‫)זִקְ נֵי ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬. Already, then, the extension of the group signals a potential secondarity of much of v. 1aα*. In the following verse-part, Samuel stresses to the assembly, “I have obeyed you, in all that you said to me (‫( ”)שָׁ מַ ﬠְ ִתּי בְ קֹ לְ כֶם לְ כֹ ל ֲאשֶׁ ר־אֲמַ ְרתֶּ ם לִ י‬v. 1aβ). This is a nearly verbatim restatement of YHWH’s command to Samuel in 1 Sam 8:7aβγ (�‫ֹאמרוּ אֵ לֶי‬ ְ ‫) ְשׁמַ ע בְּ קוֹ ל הָ ﬠָם לְ כֹ ל ֲאשֶׁ ר־י‬. In the repetition from 1 Sam 8:7aβγ to 12:1aβ, only the relevant persons of the voice’s owners, the person of the addressee, and the verbal forms and inflections have been grammatically reformulated: 1 Sam 8:7aβγ IMPTV.[2.]M.SG ‫ְשׁמַ ע‬ ‫ְבּקוֹ ל הָ ﬠָם‬ ‫ ב‬+ NP + NP ‫לְ כֹ ל אֲשֶׁ ר־‬ ‫ֹאמרוּ‬ ְ ‫י‬ IMPERF.3.M.PL PREP + 2.M.SG �‫אֵ לֶי‬

1 Sam 12:1aβ ‫שָׁ מַ ﬠְ ִתּי‬ PERF.1.C.SG ‫ְבקֹ לְ כֶם‬ ‫ ב‬+ NP-POSS.2.M.PL ‫לְ כֹ ל אֲשֶׁ ר־‬ ‫אֲמַ ְרתֶּ ם‬ PERF.2.M.PL ‫לִ י‬ PREP + 1.C.SG

Two things are worth nothing here: First, we have seen above that the phrase ‫ בְּ קוֹ ל הָ ﬠָם‬in 1 Sam 8:7aβ was repeated in the two members of the later members of the secondary Wiederaufnahmen as ‫( בְּ קוֹ לָם‬1 Sam 8:9a, 22aα). This abbreviated pattern of the prepositional phrase (‫ ב‬+ NP-POSS.3.M.PL) matches the pattern found in 1 Sam 12:1aβ even more closely, but that does not necessarily signal that the latter verse is secondary. Instead, it may merely demonstrate the naturalness of reducing the nomen rectum ‫ הָ ﬠָם‬to a pronominal suffix. But we should observe, second, the mismatch in the prepositions between 1 Sam 8:7aγ (‫ )אֶ ל‬and 1 Sam 12:1aβ ( ְ‫)ל‬. Although unexpected, the two are semantically close; again, the alternation may be nothing more than the substitution of one with an inessential memory variant. 158 However, we saw above that Samuel’s attribution of the elders’ request for a king as ‫ֹאמרוּ לוֹ כִּ י־מֶ לֶ� תָּ שִֹ ים ָﬠלֵינוּ‬ ְ ‫ ַותּ‬in 1 Sam 10:19aβ may have been based on ‫ֹאמרוּ לִ י ל ֹא כִּ י־מֶ לֶ� י ְִמ�� ָﬠלֵינוּ‬ ְ ‫ ַותּ‬in 1 Sam 12:12. Both use the collocation ‫ אמ״ר‬+ ‫ל‬, and may have occasioned the formulation of 1 Sam 12:1aβ. It is plausible, 156 157

158

E.g., Veijola, Königtum, 83–99; O’Brien, Deuteronomistic History Hypothesis, 120–128. Notice the use of ‫ אֶ ל‬in this phrase; one wonders if this prepositional phrase has been modified from an earlier ‫ ֲאלֵיהֶ ם‬, since ‫ אֶ ל‬seems more likely to be a marker of the earlier stratum (as opposed to ְ‫ל‬, which appears more frequently in the redactional material; see immediately below). For “memory variants,” see, e.g., Carr, “Empirische Perspektiven”.

152

Jeremy M. Hutton

then, that v. 12aβ is also secondary, a deliberate editorial resumption to signal Samuel’s fulfillment of the divine command in 1 Sam 8:7aβγ, 9a, and 22aα. Verse 1b also bears hallmarks of being part of the redactional stratum that we have traced previously. The formulation, “and I crowned a king over you” uses the collocation ‫ מל״ך‬hiphil + ‫ﬠַל‬, which appears in the non-causative formulation ‫ מל״ך‬qal + ‫ ﬠַל‬in 1 Sam 12:12 (cf. ‫ שׂים‬qal + ‫ ﬠַל‬in the secondary v. 19aβ). In short, each constituent phrase of v. 1 – except for ‫ ַויּ ֹאמֶ ר ְשׁמוּאֵ ל‬in v. 1aα1 – shows some lexical or grammatical marker that participates in the secondary redaction identified above. It would appear that the bulk of this verse has been constructed on the basis of a number of extant verses (1 Sam 8:7, 9a, 22aβ; 10:19aβ), and was designed to reframe the narrative of the elders’ request for a king, the constituent episodes of which had been disarticulated from one another and threaded around the extant NSRB (1 Sam 9:10–10:16*) and NSRA (1 Sam 11:1–15*). The following verses, however, do not bear the traces of such secondary reformulation. In v. 2, Samuel uses a typical discourse-level marker of transition (‫ )וְ ַﬠתָּ ה‬before gesturing to the newly crowned king: “See: the king now goes before you (‫( ”)הִ נֵּה הַ מֶּ לֶ� הִ ְתהַ לֵּ� לִ פְ נֵיכֶם‬v. 2aα1). Because ‫ וְ ַﬠתָּ ה‬typically serves to introduce a new discourse unit, this verse could follow naturally on any of the preceding verses. If we assign this passage to the underlying narrative being explored here, it follows quite naturally on the people’s acclamation of the new king: as soon as they have endorsed Saul as king (1 Sam 10:24b), Samuel begins to refer to him as such. Only the opening of v. 1aα1, ‫ ַויּ ֹאמֶ ר ְשׁמוּאֵ ל‬, needs to intervene in order to form a plausible transition from 1 Sam 10:24b. The prophet then goes on to confirm the people’s original complaint regarding his relative old age: “I myself have grown old and grey (‫( ”) ַו ֲאנִי זָקַ ְנ ִתּי וָשַׂ בְ ִתּי‬v. 2aα2). 159 Regardless of whether ‫ וָשַׂ בְ ִתּי‬was an original part of Samuel’s admission, the Masoretes have pointed it with the strong vocalization (‫) ָו‬, which is “particularly frequent when two analogous words are closely associated and form a group.” 160 At any rate, it does not contradict the basic claim of 1 Sam 8:1a, 5aα, repeated again here in Samuel’s own voice, that he has “grown old” (‫)זָקַ ְנ ִתּי‬. Samuel’s admission of old-age is followed by the adjuration, “but look – my sons are with you (‫( ”)וּבָ נַי הִ נָּם ִא ְתּכֶם‬v. 2aβ). One might be tempted to excise this clause on the basis of our estimation above (section 3.1) that Samuel’s sons are secondary to the narrative (1 Sam 8:1b–3, 5aβ). But as discussed above, the sons seem to have been added in there as a foil to Samuel’s overall good leadership – the people complain precisely because the sons do not exhibit the same high quality (and Dtr-compliant!) leadership skills with which Samuel is endowed. In contrast, Samuel’s adjuration here appears to act as a reassurance and encouragement of the people: even if the king stumbles, Samuel implies, his sons will be 159 160

Veijola (Königtum, 85) is forced to conclude that v. 2aα2 is derivative of 8:1, 5 by his assumption that all of 1 Sam 12 was composed by DtrN. JM, 349 §104d.

Pre-Deuteronomistic Narrative in 1 Sam 8; 10*; 12

153

there to guide the king appropriately. Moreover, the sons’ malicious deeds foregrounded in 1 Sam 8:1b–3 goes unmentioned here; Samuel’s recognition of the justification for the elders’ request extends only to his old age. 161 These observations suggest that the sons may be original to this passage, from which they were then imported into 1 Sam 8:1b–3 as a secondary reason for the elders’ request. But if this is the case, were the sons originally mentioned in 1 Sam 12:2aβ Samuel’s biological sons (whom we otherwise know nothing about), or is there another explanation? It is possible that the term “sons” here is not meant to be genealogical, but instead sociological: it was common for members of a saintly house to be incorporated into their master’s lineage, regardless of whether they were genetically related. 162 Yet, no matter whether we understand ‫ בָ נַי‬here as metaphorical or literal, the ideological difference from 1 Sam 8:1b–3, 5aβ is subtle but important: although the inauguration of the monarchy might appear to be a point of stark disjuncture from the earlier period, Samuel points to the overall continuity of cultic-prophetic leadership among the people. This ideology is not to be relegated solely to a Dtr viewpoint; several authors – foremost among them Campbell – have argued that a pre-Dtr redactional stratum of Samuel, a so-called Prophetic Record (PR) was produced among a circle of cultic functionaries who viewed themselves as providing divinely-mandated oversight over the Israelite monarchy. Although Campbell does not include 1 Sam 8* + 10:17–27* + 12* in his PR – and I would not claim that the PR underlay any of Samuel–Kings included in these chapters either – Samuel’s reassurance that his sons are still “with” the people participates in a similar ideological perspective. 163 The redactor who added 1 Sam 8:1b–3, 5aβ likely did so with the knowledge that Samuel’s sons were mentioned later in the narrative. By anticipating their relatively benign appearance in 1 Sam 12:2aβ and casting them in a much more negative light, the redactor could invest the later verse with an ominous shadow without changing any of its locution. Samuel further alludes to the continuity of Israelite leadership in v. 2b. He uses the same verbal root and stem (‫ הל״ך‬hitpael) that describes the king’s action in v. 2aα1: “I myself have gone before you from my youth until this day ( ‫ַו ֲאנִי‬ ‫)הִ ְתהַ לַּכְ ִתּי לִ פְ נֵיכֶם ִמ ְנּﬠ ַֻרי ﬠַד־הַ יּוֹ ם הַ זֶּה‬.” 164 The phrase ‫ ﬠַד־הַ יּוֹ ם הַ זֶּה‬is typically Dtr in its usage, perhaps signaling a secondary insertion in v. 2b. 165 It makes sense in the 493F

495F

161 162

163 164

165

E.g., Campbell, 1 Samuel, 121; Firth, 1 and 2 Samuel, 145. E.g., Hutton, “Levitical Diaspora (I),” esp. 228. I was inspired to apply this insight here by an asyet-unpublished paper by Jaime A. Myers, “The Wicked ‘Sons of Eli’ and the Composition of 1 Samuel 1–4,” VT, forthcoming. This point will be nuanced below (see section 4). Tsumura (First Book, 314) correctly notes that a contrast is drawn between “the king who is walking before you … and the judge who has walked before you” (emphasis original). According to the analysis offered here, this parallel is the product of a later redactor. See, e.g., Veijola, (Königtum, 85), who finds a parallel text in Jer 3:25, which he considers a Dtr insertion.

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present context that Samuel would recognize the culmination of his own leadership with respect to the people: beginning from the time of his youth – an implicit recognition that the author of 1 Sam 12:2 knows of the Samuel-oriented materials in 1 Sam 1–3* – he has directed and guided the Israelites. That task culminates on this very day; the king now fulfills the functions formerly held by Samuel. Because its literary horizon seems more extensive than the rest of the early narrative reconstructed here, I excise v. 2b from the earliest narrative. In v. 3aα1, the prophet launches into a new topic: Samuel asks the elders to testify against him in the presence of YHWH (‫ ) ֶנגֶד י״‬and his “anointed one” ( ‫וְ ֶנגֶד‬ ֹ‫)מ ִשׁיחו‬. ְ The reader has not yet seen the preposition ‫ ֶנגֶד‬in the short narrative under review here (cf. ‫ לִ פְ נֵי י״‬in 1 Sam 10:19b). More importantly for the purposes of this study, the term ֹ‫ ְמ ִשׁיחו‬is striking. The term refers to the anointing of the king with oil, the literary reflections of which practice seem to appear in the diachronic development of 1–2 Samuel for the first time in the stories of David’s Rise. If we may see in 2 Sam 2:4; 3:39; and 5:3 earlier reminiscences of the practice involving anointing with oil in order to designate popular recognition of a king, then the practice seems to appear first (chronologically) during the reign of David. But even in these cases, it is groups composed of the “men of Judah” ( ‫אַ ְנשֵׁ י‬ ‫ ;יְהוּדָ ה‬2 Sam 2:4) and “all the elders of Israel” (‫ ;כָּל־זִקְ נֵי־ ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬2 Sam 5:3) – who represent the people as a whole – that undertake the anointing of David as king. But this political organization is not the one assumed by 1 Sam 12:3aα1, where the text seems to assume Saul’s anointing at the hands of Samuel (1 Sam 10:1). As Schmidt has demonstrated, 1 Sam 10:1 is the product of a secondary redaction 166 – and it is this same redactional stratum that Campbell has plausibly identified as the work of a Prophetic Redactor, working at earliest around the end of the 9th century. 167 This trope – the anointing of the new king by a prophet – is one of the hallmarks of that redactional effort (cf. also 2 Kgs 9:6–10). 168 At the very least, it marks the phrase ֹ‫ וְ ֶנגֶד ְמ ִשׁיחו‬in 1 Sam 12:3aα1 as a product of the same political ideology. But this does not necessarily indicate that the entirety of 1 Sam 12:3 was itself a composition by Birch’s and Campbell’s Prophetic Redactor. 169 It is possible that the ceremony was supposed to be performed in front of Saul, so that the new king now also served as a witness that the people had collectively exculpated Samuel from any wrongdoing in 1 Sam 12:1–5*. But the phrase ֹ‫ וְ ֶנגֶד ְמ ִשׁיחו‬seems to complicate the rather straightforward oath ceremony performed “before YHWH” (‫) ֶנגֶד י״‬, and may be secondary to the context. Regardless of whether this phrase is original or secondary, we see here the influence of

166

167 168 169

Schmidt, Menschlicher Erfolg, 68; Richter, Berufungsberichte, 50–53; Birch, Rise, 37–38; Campbell, Of Prophets and Kings, 20; Na’aman, “Pre-Deuteronomistic Story,” 642; McCarter, I Samuel, 171; Schmitt, “Berufungsschema,” 208–209; Hutton, Transjordanian Palimpsest, 337–338. Campbell, Of Prophets and Kings, esp. 18–21; see also Hutton, Transjordanian Palimpsest, 369–371. Campbell, Of Prophets and Kings, 36–38. Contra, e.g., Birch, Rise, 67–68.

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155

the prophetic redactor, even if that influence came at significant chronological remove from the PR’s composition. 170 After this call to make an indictment before YHWH, Samuel challenges the elders to make any complaints explicit. The series of questions that he asks serves as an apologia exculpating himself of any wrong-doing against the elders and their constituents. The reader expects Samuel to make this overture – especially in the context of the “custom of the king” in 1 Sam 8:11–17 – but the list of potential offenses here does not line up with those enumerated in the secondary material of ch. 8. There, the offenses are: vv. 11b–12: enlistment (‫ )לק״ח‬of sons; assignment to military, agricultural, and industrial services v. 13: drafting (‫ )לק״ח‬of daughters; assignment to domestic services v. 14: seizure (‫ )לק״ח‬of best agricultural lands; redistribution to the king’s clients v. 15: taxation (‫ )עשׂ״ר‬on remaining agricultural lands and goods; further redistribution vv. 16–17a: seizure (‫ )עשׂ״ר ;לק״ח‬of human and animal chattel; redeployment to the king’s purposes v. 17b: subjugation of free-holders as servants

Many commentators observe the prevalence of the passage’s leitwort, “take” (‫)לק״ח‬, connecting it to 1 Sam 8:11–17. 171 But the constellation of terms with which ‫ לק״ח‬is used in this passage demands a more nuanced approach. In 1 Sam 12:3aα2 Samuel asks whether he has taken (‫ )לק״ח‬anyone’s bull (‫ )שׁוֹ ר‬or donkey (‫)חֲמוֹ ר‬. Although the collocation ‫ לק״ח‬+ ‫ חֲמוֹ ר‬occurs in the secondary mišpaṭ hammelek (1 Sam 8:16), the vocabulary corresponding to the other member (“bull”) does not appear there. Rather, it was “your cattle (‫ ”)בקרכם‬there, if LXXOG βουκόλια ὑμῶν provides witness to the earlier state of the text (cf. MT’s “your heroes [‫חוּריכֶם‬ ֵ ַ‫)”]בּ‬. 172 Samuel then asks if he has “extorted (‫ ”)עשׁ״ק‬or “oppressed (‫ ”)רצץ‬anyone (v. 3aα3). Neither of these terms is present in 1 Sam 8:11–17.173 Samuel continues in v. 3aβγ, asking whether he has taken a bribe (here, ‫ )כֹּ פֶר‬from anyone, “so that I might avert my eyes in exchange for it ( ‫ַד־מי לָקַ חְ ִתּי כֹ פֶר וְ אַ ﬠְ לִ ים‬ ִ ‫וּמיּ‬ ִ 174 ֹ‫ ”? )ﬠֵינַי בּו‬Again, this potential accusation is not found in the “custom of the 504F

170

171 172 173

174

I therefore recognize the forcefulness of McKenzie’s argument (“Trouble,” 304 n. 68) that “The references to YHWH’s anointed in 12.3, 5 also presuppose 9.1–10.16 and must have been written by the editor of chs. 8–12 as a whole.” But I identify the source of that trope differently. E.g., Hentschel, 1 Samuel, 87; Firth, 1 and 2 Samuel, 145. For the LXX reading as text-critically preferred, see, e.g., McCarter, I Samuel, 155. As noted by Veijola (Königtum, 85), even though this word pair occurs in Deuteronomic and Dtr texts (Deut 28:33; cf. Jer 22:17b [‫)]הַ ְמּרוּצָ ה‬, it also appears in earlier prophetic texts (Hos 5:11; Amos 4:1). In v. 3aβ, LXXB reads ἢ ἐκ χειρὸς τίνος εἴληφα ἐξίλασμα καὶ ὑπόδημα; ἀποκρίθητε κατ᾽ ἐμου, likely rendering ‫ומיד מי לקחתי כפר ונעל ענו בי‬. The word ἐξίλασμα is used only one other time in LXX (Ps 48[49]:8, where it also renders ‫ ;כפר‬the related noun ἐξιλασμός is used for a wider variety of Hebrew nouns (‫ַפֹּרת ;כִּ פּ ִֻרים ;חַ טָּ את ;חָ טָ א‬ ֶ ‫)קְ פָדָ ה ;כּ‬. I see no reason to follow LXXB’s ἀποκρίθητε (“respond,” reading ‫)ענו‬, as do, e.g., McCarter (I Samuel, 209–210, 213–214) and Auld (I & II Samuel, 126–127). The phrase “to hide the eyes” (‫ על״ם‬hiphil + ‫ )עין‬is used in Lev 20:4; Isa 1:15; Ezek 22:26; Prov 28:27; ‫ בּוֹ‬is easily understood as the beth pretii (e.g., GKC §119p).

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king” – and although it does appear in 1 Sam 8:3b, the marker of its secondarity in that verse was its combination with the collocation ‫ נטה‬hiphil + ‫מ ְשׁ ָפּט‬.ִ The phrase ‫ לק״ח‬+ ‫ שֹׁ חַ ד‬occurs independently in diverse contexts (Ezek 22:12; Prov 17:23; 2 Chr 19:7; cf. the converse phrase ‫ שׁל״ח‬+ ‫ שֹׁ חַ ד‬in 1 Kgs 15:19; 2 Kgs 16:8), and I see no reason to excise it as specifically Dtr in affiliation. If anyone has a valid complaint against him, avers Samuel, he will return the property or the bribe that he took (‫ ;וְ אָ ִשׁיב ָלכֶם‬v. 3b). The people quickly counter in v. 4a that Samuel has neither “extorted” nor “oppressed” them (using the same lexemes found in v. 3aα3). Nor has he taken “anything” (‫)מאוּמָ ה‬ ְ from anyone – a general word that covers both the livestock of v. 3aα2 and the bribe of v. 3aβ. Satisfied with the elders’ response to his questions, Samuel then says to them (‫) ַויּ ֹאמֶ ר ֲאלֵיהֶ ם‬, 175 “YHWH is a witness to you … today that you have not found anything in my hand ( ‫ הַ יּוֹ ם הַ זֶּה כִּ י ל ֹא‬... ‫ﬠֵד י״ בָּ כֶם‬ ‫( ”) ְמצָ אתֶ ם בְּ י ִָדי ְמאוּמָ ה‬v. 5a*). Samuel picks up here the people’s locution, using ‫ ְמאוּמָ ה‬as a stand-in for unlawfully extorted property or a bribe of any sort. Although Samuel once again suggests that the people are undergoing a legal deposition not only before YHWH but before “his anointed one” as well ( ‫וְ ﬠֵד‬ ֹ‫)מ ִשׁיחו‬, ְ this phrase might be excised for the same reason cited above for omitting ֹ‫ וְ ֶנגֶד ְמ ִשׁיחו‬in v. 3aα1. This intuition may be confirmed in v. 5b, where the elders readily agree to Samuel’s proposition by saying simply “(He is) a witness (‫)ﬠֵד‬,” using the singular rather than the plural ‫ﬠ ִֵדים‬. This formulation is striking because normally we would expect to have the plural form used when more than one witness was invoked (cf. Josh 24:22; Ruth 4:9–11). 176 Altogether, the evidence of vv. 3–5 suggests that YHWH was originally the sole witness invoked in this ceremony and that YHWH’s anointed, Saul, was added in only after this source was combined with the (already redacted) NSRB (1 Sam 9:1–10:16), from which the motif of Saul’s anointing was drawn. In this section, I have traced the original narrative through its apparent end in v. 5: 506F

Then Samuel said, 2a“So now, see: the king now goes before you. Even though 177 I myself have grown old and grey, my sons are (still) with you. 3aα1*Here I am – answer against me before YHWH: 3aα2Whose bull have I taken (‫ ?)לק״ח‬Whose donkey have I taken (‫?)לק״ח‬ 3aα3 Whom have I extorted (‫ ?)עשׁ״ק‬Whom have I oppressed (‫ ?)רצ״ץ‬3aβFrom whose hand 1aα1

175

176

177

Of importance here is the preposition (‫ ;)אֶ ל‬we saw above that this preposition could be used in the apparently redactional material (e.g., ‫ָל־יִשׂ ָראֵ ל‬ ְ ‫ אֶ ל־כּ‬in 12:1aα), but that ְ‫ ל‬seems to occur in greater proportion in that stratum (e.g., 10:19aβ; 12:1aβ, 12). I agree here with Veijola’s reasoning (Königtum, 94), although not his dating. One caveat to my analysis is the arguably late date of both comparable scenes (Josh 24 and Ruth 4); moreover, Josh 24:22 asserts that the people are “witnesses against [them]selves that [they] have chosen [‫ ]בח״ר‬to serve YHWH” (see Veijola, ibid., 93–95), demonstrating some of the problematic locution discussed above. Yet, the verb ‫ עו״ד‬can be connected to the Akkadian and NWS adê-treaties, meaning that oath-taken ceremonies likely date far earlier than suggested by the word’s distribution in biblical texts. The conjunction here functions to mark the circumstances of the preceding and following clauses (see, e.g., BHRG 299 §40.8.2).

Pre-Deuteronomistic Narrative in 1 Sam 8; 10*; 12

157

have I taken a bribe (‫ לק״ח‬+ ‫ )כֹּ פֶר‬3aγso that I might avert my eyes in exchange for it? 3bI will return it to you!” 4They said, “You have not extorted (‫ )עשׁ״ק‬us, nor have you oppressed (‫ )רצץ‬us, nor have you taken anything from anyone!” 5a*Then he said to them, “YHWH is a witness to you today, that you have not found anything in my hand.” 5bAnd they 178 said, “(He is a) witness.” 508F

It seems to me that the underlying, pre-Dtr narrative ends here – or, at least, it cannot be traced further. I follow Birch in seeing a literary break at the beginning of v. 6, 179 and the remainder of 1 Sam 12 is replete with Dtr material (likely attributable in various measure to both Dtr1/DtrG and Dtr2/DtrN, as many previous researchers have argued 180). This declamation by Samuel hardly has the force of the Abschiedsrede with which he is typically credited; indeed, Samuel’s valedictory address only achieved its shape with the addition of vv. 6–25*. In this short apologia, Samuel seeks only the people’s (i.e., the elders’) affirmation that he has done nothing to abuse his office as “judge”.

4.

Summary of the Underlying Narrative (NSRC)

In the preceding sections, I have reconstructed the original text of the original NSRC narrative as follows: 1 Sam 8:1a, 4, 5aα, 5b*, 6–7, 22aβ; 10:18aα1, 19aα1, 19aβ*, 19b, ≪excised material≫, 21bβ, 22–23, 24aα1, 24aα2* (‫)הַ ְרּ ִאיתֶ ם‬, 24aβb; 12:1aα1, 2a, 3aα1*, 3aα2, 3aα3, 3aβγ, 4, 5a*, 5b. This proposed reconstruction is presented in its entirely in Appendix A. With respect to the major features and themes of the narrative, two things in particular are worth observing. First, in contrast to the secondary addition of Samuel to the story of Saul’s anointing (the NSRB; 1 Sam 9:1–10:16), the NSRC features Samuel as an integral part of the narrative thread. Samuel is essential to the Grundbestand of the narrative: he serves unambiguously as the single cultic functionary to whom the elders appeal in their request for a king. It is at his hometown of Ramah that the elders gather. He is the one who manages the selection process, in whatever form it was initially included. Second, although the story is a relatively self-standing narrative, the institution of the kingship seems to solve a problem that is posed most strikingly, not in the book of 1– 2 Samuel, but rather in the book of Judges: namely, the problem of divinely178

179 180

I follow LXXOG (εἴπαν), Tg.Jon. (‫)ואמרו‬, and Pesh. (‫ )ܘܐܡܪܝܢ‬in translating “they said”. LXXL follows MT, rendering with the singular (εἴπεν), but adds “the people” (ὁ λαός), retroactively justifying the singular (Auld, I & II Samuel, 127). Birch, Rise, 62–66. E.g., McKenzie, “Trouble,” 304, but cf. his assessment that vv. 1–5 are also Dtr in origin; cf. also Campbell (1 Samuel, 120), who finds in 1 Sam 12 a “largely independent and highly idiosyncratic tradition that has been introduced by the dtr revision [i.e., a later Dtr editor such as Dtr2/DtrN] and adjusted to some degree”.

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designated, semi-permanent leadership that has not been available in the rotating, ad hoc organization of the “deliverer”-based political model. 181 Bolstering this impression is the fact that the root ‫ שׁפ״ט‬occurs twice in the context of the elders’ request (1 Sam 8:5, 6) with the sense of political – and especially military – leadership. Despite having overseen the institution of the monarchy, however, Samuel will continue to play a charismatic, “saintly” role in the life of the people; that role will continue even after he dies. His “sons” – that is, the member of his saintly zawiya – are still with Israel and can still offer guidance and mediation to the people. 182 In short, as has been observed previously, the pre-Dtr Grundbestand identified here does not seem particularly antimonarchic in its ideation. 183 Samuel views the elders’ request for a human king negatively (1 Sam 8:6), and YHWH concedes that it is a rejection of divine authority (v. 7) – at least insofar as the human monarch, rather than YHWH, now will lead the people out to battle (v. 20b*). Nonetheless, YHWH authorizes the institution of the monarchy, apparently because the elders’ rationale – that Samuel is aging and will not be able to lead them out to battle for much longer – has some force. Yet, at the same time that this narrative recognizes the more enduring authority of the kingship (visà-vis the ad hoc nature of the deliverers’ charismatic leadership), 184 it also seems to ignore or downplay the potentially hereditary nature of a kingship “like [that of] the nations.” Graeme Auld points out that “if the elders are inconsistent, it is more in showing no awareness that kings tend to be succeeded by their sons, even when that is not constitutionally required. … Nothing is said about the king’s son or who will succeed him.” 185 Thus, although Thomas Paine was not working with a diachronically-developed text, his intuition regarding the establishment of the Israelite monarchy coincides with Auld’s observation: the shift from an ad hoc system of leadership to a monarchy regularizes the availability of military leadership – but these martial functions of the king do not necessarily entail hereditary succession. Although it would be impossible here to sketch out the precise shape of the composite narrative to which the NSRC forms the culminating cap, it is possible to infer the larger complex’s basic concerns. The putative “history” of the period of the Judges comprises a cycle of stories in which various tribal elements in the Central Highlands are rescued by “deliverers”. The idea of a Retterbuch was pro512 F

181

182 183 184 185

It is not altogether clear to me that the negative evaluation of the pre-monarchic period articulated in the final chapters of Judges (‫ ;בַּ י ִָמים הָ הֵ ם אֵ ין מֶ לֶ� ְבּיִ ְשׂ ָראֵ ל ִאישׁ הַ יָּשָׁ ר ְבּﬠֵינָיו ַיﬠֲשֶׂ ה‬Judg 17:6; 21:25; cf. the shorter, less negative notes in Judg 18:1; 19:1) is unrepresentative of the pre-Dtr layer’s (or collection’s) view, even if the formulation is the product of a Dtr author (e.g., Dietrich, “History and Law,” 317). I use the term zawiya here, drawing it from its North African Berber setting; see Hutton, “Levitical Diaspora (I),” esp. 227. E.g., Müller, Königtum, 120. E.g., Payne, I & II Samuel, 42. Auld, I & II Samuel, 91.

Pre-Deuteronomistic Narrative in 1 Sam 8; 10*; 12

159

posed long ago by Wolfgang Richter, and I would tentatively suggest that the book actually spanned Judges 3–18* (with many of the passages in the book’s present form having been added later). Thus, despite the fact that the earliest Israelite kings’ prerogatives including the act of ‫שׁפ״ט‬, Paine’s impression of this mandate clearly takes its cues from a synchronic reading of Judges–Kings. In such a reading, the leader who practices ‫ שׁפ״ט‬bears a juridical function. But this reading is antithetical to what appears to be the earliest meaning of ‫שׁפ״ט‬ accessed by 1 Sam 8:5, 6, in which the term highlights a much more martial function. Furthermore, the problem of the sporadic organizational capabilities of ad hoc leadership that is solved in this narrative cap closely resembles the inherent problems of segmental complementarity and leadership rotation among the Berber tribes of the High Atlas. It is true that the precise mechanisms by which the agurram designates the recognized leader vary between the Berber social setting, the “older narrative” of 1 Sam 9:1–10:16, and the more recent NSRC narrative – regardless of whether we consider the lot-selection ceremony (1 Sam 10:20–21abα) or a more mantic oracular designation reconstructed above (1 Sam 10:21bβ-24*) to be the primordial form. Nonetheless, the ideological stances of all three “scripts” coincide closely: according to Ernest Gellner, the igurramen “think and claim they appoint [the tribal leaders]….” 186 If I am correct in my analysis here, then we may have evidence for two separate-but-ideologically-similar corpora that were transmitted among members of a single, if internally diverse, sociological class. One source, the nascent core of Judges, combined several tales of local deliverers into a single narrative, capping it with a freshlycomposed episode in which Samuel oversaw the transition to the monarchy. The other source, the nascent core of Samuel–Kings in the form of the so-called Prophetic Record, used at least one early Narrative of Saul’s Rise as a point of departure, and converted it and its various accretions into a “record” of the monarchy’s institution and development under saintly oversight. These two complexes of literature both lauded the role of saints in the establishment of the monarchy. Both conceived of the monarchy as subordinate to the divine will as mediated by these saints. As these two sources were combined together into a single account of the selection of Israel’s institution of the monarchy, the Deuteronomist – likely, in my view, a Josianic-era author – connected the two, weaving them together and supplementing them with connective material (1 Sam 8:1b, 2?, 3, 5aβ, 9b–20a, 21, 22aα, 22b; 10:17, 18aα2βb, 19aα2, 20–21abα, 24aα2* [ ‫ֲאשֶׁ ר בָּ חַ ר‬ ‫]בּוֹ י״‬, 25–27; 12:1aα2* [‫]אֶ ל־כָּל־ ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬, 1aβ, 1b, 2b, 3aα1* [‫]וְ ֶנגֶד ְמ ִשׁיחוֹ‬, 5a* [‫)]וְ ﬠֵד ְמ ִשׁיחוֹ‬. Although a later Deuteronomist (Dtr2 / DtrN) added a few scattered notes (8:2?, 8–9a; 10:17* [‫)]מצְ פָּה‬, ִ the narrative already comprised an extended and (relatively) coherent account of the appointment of Israel’s first monarch.

186

Gellner, Saints of the Atlas, 98.

160

Jeremy M. Hutton

How, then, does this investigation of the NSRC and its Deuteronomistic overlays invite us to reflect on our current moment in the history of the United States? Insofar as the biblical account in 1 Samuel informed Thomas Paine’s vision of the antimonarchic impulses at the root of American independence, it also should comprise an adequate articulation of the argument against reinstalling a monarch in our current political system. The nepotism and incompetence that inevitably result from a hereditary system, in combination with the fact that our chief executive is “neither a judge nor a general,” ought to lead us to question, with Paine, what the business of such a “unitary executive” might actually be?

Appendix A: Reconstructed Text of the NSRC And when Samuel grew old, 4all the elders of Israel assembled and came to Samuel at Ramah. 5aαThey said to him, “See now, you have grown old. 5b*Now, appoint for us a king to lead us, [like all the nations?], 20b*so that he might go out before us and fight our battles. 6 But the matter was evil in Samuel’s view, how the people said, ‘Give us a king to lead us,’ so Samuel prayed to YHWH. 7And YHWH said to Samuel, “Obey (lit., listen to the voice of) the people, with respect to all that they say to you, because it is not you that they have rejected, rather me have they rejected from ruling over them: 22aβcrown a king for them.” 10:18aα1 And (Samuel) said to the Israelites: 19aα1“You yourselves have today rejected your god, 19aβ* (when) you said, ‘No! Instead, a king shall rule over us.’ 19bSo now, take your stand before YHWH by your tribes and by your clans.” ≪The people inquired of YHWH, “Who will reign over us?” And YHWH replied through Samuel, “The one who is taller than everyone else by a head.”≫ 21bβAnd they looked for him, but he could not be found. 22They inquired again of YHWH, “Is anyone else going to come here?” 23And YHWH said, “Look, he is hiding among the baggage.” So they ran and bought him from there and he took his stand among the people, and he was taller than all the people from his shoulder upwards. 24aα1 Then Samuel said to all the people, 24aα2*(‫“)הַ ְרּ ִאיתֶ ם‬Do you see [(the one) whom YHWH has chosen] – 24aβthat there is none like him among all the people? 24bAll the people shouted, and they said, “Long live the king!” 12:1aα1Then Samuel said, 2a“So now, see: the king now goes before you. Even though I myself have grown old and grey, my sons are (still) with you. 3aα1*Here I am – answer against me before YHWH: 3aα2Whose bull have I taken (‫?)לק״ח‬ Whose donkey have I taken (‫ ?)לק״ח‬3aα3Whom have I extorted (‫ ?)עשׁ״ק‬Whom have I oppressed (‫ ?)רצץ‬3aβFrom whose hand have I taken a bribe (‫ לק״ח‬+ ‫ )כֹּ פֶר‬3aγso that I might avert my eyes in exchange for it? I will return it to you!” 4They said, “You have not extorted (‫ )עשׁ״ק‬us, nor have you oppressed (‫ )רצץ‬us, nor have you taken anything from anyone!” 5a*Then he said to them, “YHWH is a witness to you today, that you have not found anything in my hand.” 5bAnd they said, “(He is a) witness.” 8:1a

Pre-Deuteronomistic Narrative in 1 Sam 8; 10*; 12

161

Bibliography Achenbach, Reinhard. “Das sogenannte Königsgesetz in Deuteronomium 17,14–20.” ZABR 15 (2009): 216–233. Aejmelaeus, Anneli. “Function and Interpretation of ‫ כי‬in Biblical Hebrew.” JBL 105 (1986): 193–209. Alt, Albrecht. “Das Königtum in den Reichen Israel und Juda.” VT 1 (1951): 2–22; reprinted as pages 2: 116–134 in Kleine Schriften zur Geschichte des Volkes Israel. Munich: Beck, 1953. Auld, A. Graeme. I & II Samuel. OTL. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011. Bayle, Pierre. Dictionnaire historique et critique. Amsterdam: Reinier Leers, 1697. Birch, Bruce C. The Rise of the Israelite Monarchy: The Growth and Development of 1 Samuel 7–15. SBLDS 27. Missoula: Scholars Press, 1976. BHRG = van der Merwe, Christo H. J., Jackie A. Naudé, and Jan B. Kroeze. A Biblical Hebrew Reference Grammar. Biblical Languages: Hebrew, 3. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999. Boecker, Hans Jochen. Die Beurteilung der Anfänge des Königtums in den deuteronomistischen Abschnitten des I. Samuelbuches: Ein Beitrag zum Problem des “deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerks”. WMANT 31. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1969. Campbell, Antony F. 1 Samuel. FOTL 7. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003. ________. Of Prophets and Kings: A Late Ninth-Century Document (1 Samuel 1–2 Kings 10). CBQMS 17. Washington, DC: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1986. Carr, David M. “Empirische Perspektiven auf das Deuteronomistische Geschichtswerk.” Pages 1–17 in Die deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerke: Redaktions- und religionsgeschichtliche Perspektiven zur “Deuteronomismus”-Diskussion in Tora und Vorderen Propheten. Edited by Markus Witte, Konrad Schmid, Doris Prechel and Jan Christian Gertz, with Johannes F. Diehl. BZAW 365. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2006. Clements, Ronald E. “The Deuteronomistic Interpretation of the Founding of the Monarchy in I Sam. VIII.” VT 24 (1974): 398–410. Cook, Stephen L. The Social Roots of Biblical Yahwism. SBLStBL 8. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2004. Cross, Frank Moore, Donald W. Parry, Richard J. Saley, Eugene Ulrich. Qumran Cave 4, XII: 1–2 Samuel. DJD XVII. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2005. Crüsemann, Frank. Der Widerstand gegen das Königtum: Die antiköniglichen Texte des Alten Testaments und der Kampf um den frühen israelitischen Staat. WMANT 49. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1978. DeLapp, Nevada Levi. The Reformed David(s) and the Question of Resistance to Tyranny: Reading the Bible in the 16th and 17th Centuries. Scriptural Traces: Critical Perspectives on the Reception and Influence of the Bible 3. LHBOTS 601. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. Dietrich, Walter. 1 Samuel 1–12. BKAT 8.1. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2011. ________. The Early Monarchy in Israel: The Tenth Century B.C.E. Biblical Encyclopedia 3. Translated by Joachim Vette. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2007. ________. “History and Law: Deuteronomistic Historiography and Deuteronomistic Law Exemplified in the Passage from the Period of the Judges to the Monarchical Period.” Pages 315–342 in Israel Constructs Its History: Deuteronomistic Historiography in Recent Research. Edited by Albert de Pury, Jean-Daniel Macchi, and Thomas Römer. JSOTSup 306. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000. ________. “The Layer Model of the Deuteronomistic History and the Book of Samuel.” Pages 39–65 in Is Samuel among the Deuteronomists? Current Views on the Place of Samuel in a Deuteronomistic History. Edited by Cynthia Edenburg and Juha Pakkala. SBL AIL 16. Atlanta: SBL, 2013. Dos Passos, John. “Presenting Thomas Paine.” Pages 1–52 in The Essential Thomas Paine. Edited by John Dos Passos. Mineola, NY: Dover, 2008. Dowling Long, Siobhán. “Why Weepest Thou? …And Why Is Thy Heart Grieved? (1 Sam 1,8): Grief and Loss in the Books of Samuel: A Musical Interpretation.” Pages 271–282 in The Books of Samuel: Stories – History – Reception History. Edited by Walter Dietrich. BETL 284. Leuven: Peeters, 2016. Eissfeldt, Otto. Die Komposition der Samuelisbücher. Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1931.

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Faust, Avraham. Israel’s Ethnogenesis: Settlement, Interaction, Expansion and Resistance. London: Equinox, 2006. Firth, David G. 1 and 2 Samuel. AOTC 8. Downers Grove, IL. Intervarsity Press, 2009. GBHS = Arnold, Bill T., and John H. Choi. A Guide to Biblical Hebrew Syntax. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Gellner, Ernest. Saints of the Atlas. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1969. Geoghegan, Jeffrey C. The Time, Place, and Purpose of the Deuteronomistic History: The Evidence of “Until This Day.” BJS 347. Providence: Brown University, 2006. GKC = Gesenius’ Hebrew Grammar. Edited by E. Kautzsch and A. E. Cowley. 2nd. ed. Oxford: Clarendon Press 1910. Gottwald, Norman K. The Tribes of Yahweh: A Sociology of the Religion of Liberated Israel. 1250–1050 B.C.E. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1979. Reprint: The Biblical Seminar 66. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999. Greene, Nathaniel E. “Warlord and Scribe: The Nascent Israelite State beneath Its Textual Veneers.” Ph.D. Diss., University of Wisconsin–Madison, 2018. Harland, P. J. “‫בצע‬: Bribe, Extortion or Profit?” VT 50 (2000): 310–322. Hentschel, Georg. 1 Samuel. NEchtB. Würtzburg: Echter Verlag, 1994. Herbert, Edward D. “4QSama and Its Relationship to the LXX: An Exploration in Stemmatological Analysis.” Pages 37–55 in IX Congress of the International Organization for Septuagint and Cognate Studies: Cambridge, 1995. Edited by Bernard A. Taylor. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997. Hertzberg, Hans-Wilhelm. I & II Samuel: A Commentary. Translated by John S. Bowden. OTL. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1964. Hobbes, Thomas. Leviathan: The Matter, Forme and Power of a Common-wealth Ecclesiastical and Civill. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1904 (1650). Holmstedt, Robert D. The Relative Clause in Biblical Hebrew. LSAWS 10. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2016. Holowchak, M. Andrew. “Differences of Circumstance, Difference of Fact: Jefferson’s Medialist View of History.” American Studies in Scandinavia 47.1 (2015): 3–21. Hutton, Jeremy M. “The Levitical Diaspora (I): A Sociological Comparison with Morocco’s Ahansal.” Pages 223–234 in Exploring the Longue Durée: Essays in Honor of Lawrence E. Stager. Edited by J. David Schloen. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2009. ________. “‘Long Live the King!’ Deuteronomism in 1 Sam 10:17–27a in Light of Ahansali Intratribal Mediation.” Pages 275–323 in Is Samuel among the Deuteronomists? Current Views on the Place of Samuel in a Deuteronomistic History. Edited by Cynthia Edenburg and Juha Pakkala. SBL AIL 16. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013. ________. The Transjordanian Palimpsest: The Overwritten Texts of Personal Exile and Transformation in the Deuteronomistic History. BZAW 396. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2009. Hutton, Jeremy M., Paul M. Kurtz, and Amanda Morrow. “The Morphological Development of the 3.m.sg. Pronominal Suffix on Nouns in Classical Hebrew,” parts 1 and 2. Hebrew Studies 59 (2018): 39–64; 60 (2019): 7–37. IBHS = Waltke, Bruce K., and M. O’Connor. An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1990. JM = Joüon, Paul, and T. Muraoka, A Grammar of Biblical Hebrew. SubBib 14. Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1996. Kammerer, Stefan. “Die mißratenen Söhne Samuels.” BN 88 (1997): 75–88. Kaplan, Jonathan. “1 Samuel 8:11–18 as a ‘Mirror for Princes’.” JBL 131 (2012): 625–642. Ketchum, Richard M. The Winter Soldiers: The Battles for Trenton and Princeton. New York: Henry Holt, 1973. Kipfer, Sara. Der bedrohte David: Eine exegetische und rezeptionsgeschichtliche Studie zu 1Sam 16–1Kön 2. SBR 3. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2015. Klein, Ralph, 1 Samuel. 2nd ed. WBC 10. Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2000. Knapp, Andrew. Royal Apologetic in the Ancient Near East. Atlanta: SBL Press, 2015. Kratz, Reinhard G. The Composition of the Narrative Books of the Old Testament. Translated by John S. Bowden. London: T&T Clark, 2005.

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Le Clerc, Jean. Défense des sentiments de quelques théologiens de Holland: Sur l’histoire critique du Vieux Testament, contre la réponse du Prieur de Bolleville. Amsterdam: Henry Desbordes, 1686. Leibnitz, Gottfried Willhelm. Essais de theodicée sur la bonté de dieu, la liberté de l’homme, et l’origine du mal. Rev. ed. Amsterdam: Changuion, 1734. Leuchter, Mark. “A King like All the Nations: The Composition of 1 Sam 8,11–18.” ZAW 117 (2006): 543–558. Mayes, Andrew D. H. The Story of Israel between Settlement and Exile. London: SCM, 1983. McCarter, P. Kyle. I Samuel: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. AB 8. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1980. ________. “The Apology of David.” JBL 99 (1980): 489–504. McKenzie, Steven L. “Mizpah of Benjamin and the Date of the Deuteronomistic History.” Pages 149– 155 in “Lasset uns Brücken bauen….” Edited by Klaus-Dietrich Schunk and Matthias Augustin. Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 1998. ________. “The Trouble with Kingship.” Pages 286–314 in Israel Constructs Its History: Deuteronomistic Historiography in Recent Research. Edited by Albert de Pury, Jean-Daniel Macchi, and Thomas Römer. JSOTSup 306. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000. Mendelsohn, Isaac. “Samuel’s Denunciation of Kingship in Light of the Akkadian Documents from Ugarit.” BASOR 143 (1956): 17–22. Mettinger, Tryggve N. D. King and Messiah: The Civil and Sacral Legitimation of the Israelite Kings. ConBibOT 8. Lund: Gleerup, 1976. Mommer, Peter. Samuel: Geschichte und Überlieferung. WMANT 65. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1991. Müller, Reinhard. Königtum und Gottesherrschaft: Untersuchungen zur alttestamentlichen Monarchiekritik. FAT II/3. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004. Na’aman, Nadav. “The Pre-Deuteronomistic Story of King Saul and Its Historical Significance.” CBQ 54 (1992): 638–658. Nelson, Richard D. “The Deuteronomistic Historian in Samuel: ‘The Man Behind the Green Curtain.” Pages 17–37 in Is Samuel among the Deuteronomists? Current Views on the Place of Samuel in a Deuteronomistic History. Edited by Cynthia Edenburg and Juha Pakkala. SBL AIL 16. Atlanta: SBL, 2013. ________. The Double Redaction of the Deuteronomistic History. JSOTSup 18. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1981. Nihan, Christophe. “Le(s) récit(s) dtr de l’instauration de la monarchie en 1 Samuel.” Pages 147–177 in The Future of the Deuteronomistic History. Edited by Thomas Römer. BETL 147. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2000. ________. “L’injustice des fils de Samuel, au tournant d’une époque: Quelques remarques sur la fonction de I Samuel 8,1–5 dans son contexte littéraire.” BN 94 (1998): 26–32. ________. “1 Samuel 8 and 12 and the Deuteronomistic Edition of Samuel.” Pages 225–273 in Is Samuel among the Deuteronomists? Current Views on the Place of Samuel in a Deuteronomistic History. Edited by Cynthia Edenburg and Juha Pakkala. SBL AIL 16. Atlanta: SBL, 2013. Noth, Martin. The Deuteronomistic History. 2nd ed. Translated by David J. A. Clines. JSOTSup 15. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001. O’Brien, Mark A. The Deuteronomistic History Hypothesis: A Reassessment. OBO 92. Freiburg and Göttingen: Academic Press and Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1989. Paine, Thomas. The Essential Thomas Paine. Edited by John Dos Passos. Mineola, NY: Dover, 2008. Payne, David F. I and II Samuel. DSB. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1982. Richter, Wolfgang. Traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zum Richterbuch. BBB 18. Bonn: Hanstein, 1963. ________. Die Bearbeitungen des “Retterbuches” in der Deuteronomistischen Epoche. BBB 21. Bonn: Hanstein, 1964. Rogerson, J. W. “Was Early Israel a Segmentary Society?” JSOT 36 (1986): 17–26. Sakenfeld, Katharine Doob. “Loyalty and Love: The Language of Human Interconnections in the Hebrew Bible.” Pages 215–229 in Backgrounds for the Bible. Edited by Michael Patrick O’Connor and David Noel Freedman. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1987. Sanders, Seth L. “Absalom’s Audience (2 Samuel 15–19).” JBL 138 (2019): 513–536.

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Schmidt, Ludwig. Menschlicher Erfolg und Jahwes Initiative: Studien zu Tradition, Interpretation und Historie in Überlieferungen von Gideon, Saul und David. WMANT 38. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1970. Schmitt, Hans Christoph. “Das sogenannte vorprophetische Berufungsschema: Zur ‘geistigen Heimat’ des Berufungsformulars von Ex 3,9–12; Jdc 6:11–24 und I Sam 9,1–10,16.” ZAW 104 (2009): 163–177. Simon, Richard P. Histoire critique du Vieux Testament. Amsterdam: Compagnie des Libraires, 1685. Smith, Henry Preserved. Samuel. ICC. Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1904. de Spinoza, Benedict. Tractatus Theologico-Politicus. Hamburg: Henry Künrabt, 1670. Stoebe, Hans Joachim. Das erste Buch Samuelis. KAT 8.1: Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlag, 1973. Thornton, T. C. G. “Charismatic Kingship in Israel and Judah.” JTS 14 (1963): 1–11. Tsumura, David Toshio. “Bedan, a Copyist’s Error?” VT 45 (1995): 123–123. ________. The First Book of Samuel. NICOT. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2007. Veijola, Timo. Das Königtum in der Beurteilung der deuteronomistischen Historiographie: Eine redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung. AASF B.198. Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1977. Vermeylen, Jacques. “The Book of Samuel within the Deuteronomistic History.” Pages 67–91 in Is Samuel among the Deuteronomists? Current Views on the Place of Samuel in a Deuteronomistic History. Edited by Cynthia Edenburg and Juha Pakkala. SBL AIL 16. Atlanta: SBL, 2013. ________. La loi du plus fort: Histoire de la redaction des récits davidiques de 1 Samuel 8 à 1 Rois 2. BETL 154. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2000. Vette, Joachim. Samuel und Saul: Ein Beitrag zur narrativen Poetik des Samuelbuches. BVB 13. Münster: LIT Press, 2005. Weinfeld, Moshe. Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic School. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972. Weiser, Artur. “Samuel und die Vorgeschichte des israelitischen Königtums: 1. Samuel 8.” ZTK 57 (1960): 141–161. Reprinted as pp. 25–45 in idem, Samuel. ________. Samuel: Seine geschichtliche Aufgabe und religiöse Bedeutung. FRLANT 81. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1962. Wellhausen, Julius. Prolegomena to the History of Israel. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1994. Reprint of Prolegomena of the History of Israel. Translated by J. Sutherland Black and Allan Enzies, with a preface by William Robertson Smith; Edinburgh: Adam and Charles Black, 1885. Williams, Ronald J. Hebrew Syntax: An Outline. 2nd ed. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1976. Zahn, Molly M. Genres of Rewriting in Second Temple Judaism: Scribal Composition and Transmission. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020. ________. Rethinking Rewritten Scripture: Composition and Exegesis in the 4QReworked Pentateuch Manuscripts. STDJ 95. Leiden: Brill, 2011.

Der „Saulidische Erbfolgekrieg“ – Responses to Which Kind of Monarchy? Hannes Bezzel

Summary The episode following the death of Saul in 2 Sam 2–4 has found its way into the current reconstructions of the history of Israel as Ishboshet’s interregnum and the feeble attempt to establish a Saulide dynasty. The chapters are framed by the double anointment of David in 2 Sam 2,1–4 and 5,1–3. In this study, the common interpretation of these events in terms of centralised monarchic states is questioned as anachronistic particularly from the point of view of recent approaches highlighting clan- and patronage-client relations. These socio-political concepts, however, have to be correlated with the redaction-critical situation. In this respect, the paper makes a case for 2 Sam 2,1.2aα.3aLXX.4a (without ‫ )על־בית יהודה‬as the oldest version of David’s coronation, which was directly followed by 2 Sam 5,6. With this, the entire “War of Saulide Succession” as well as “Ishboshet’s interregnum” are regarded to be the result of redactional activity. Die Episode nach dem Tod Sauls in 2 Sam 2–4 hat als Eschbaals Interregnum und schwacher Versuch, eine Sauliden-Dynastie zu begründen, Eingang in die aktuellen Rekonstruktionen der Geschichte Israels gefunden. Die Kapitel werden von der doppelten Salbung Davids in 2 Sam 2,1–4 und 5,1–3 gerahmt. In dieser Studie wird die gängige Interpretation dieser Ereignisse in Kategorien zentralisierter monarchischer Staaten als anachronistisch in Frage gestellt, und zwar aus der Sicht neuerer Ansätze, die Clan- und Patron-Klienten-Beziehungen stärker hervorheben. Diese soziopolitischen Konzepte müssen jedoch mit der redaktionskritischen Situation korreliert werden. In dieser Hinsicht plädiert die Studie dafür, in 2 Sam 2,1.2aα.3aLXX.4a (ohne ‫בית יהודה‬-‫ )על‬die älteste Version von Davids Krönung zu sehen, an die 2 Sam 5,6 direkt anschloss. Damit wird der gesamte „Saulidische Erbfolgekrieg“ sowie das „Interregnum Eschbaals“ als Ergebnis redaktioneller Tätigkeit angesehen.

1.

Interpretation und Anachronismen

Als diachron denkende, historisch-kritische Exeget*innen sind „wir“, wenn es erlaubt ist, einmal die erste Person communis plural zu gebrauchen, Kinder des langen 19. Jahrhunderts. Das betrifft zum einen die meisten der großen literarischen Entstehungshypothesen, an deren Bestärkung, Modifikation oder Revision sich die Forschung abmüht. Das betrifft, damit eng verbunden, zum anderen aber auch Fragen der Rekonstruktion der Geschichte Israels oder der Geschichte Israels und Judas oder der Geschichte der Levante als Hinter- und Vordergrund der Literargeschichte – nicht zuletzt mit Blick auf die sogenannte „frühe

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Königszeit“. Cum grano salis ist unsere referentielle „Achsenzeit“ die Epoche von 1780–1914. Entsprechend ist es wenig verwunderlich, dass nicht nur die Hauptthesen, sondern auch die zentralen Deutekategorien, Modelle und Analogien für die Rekonstruktion der Verhältnisse und Ereignisse der frühen Eisenzeit dieser Zeit, insbesondere dem späten 19. und frühen 20. Jahrhundert, entstammen und von diesem geprägt sind. Man könnte daher in diesem Fall von einem zweifachen Anachronismus sprechen: Zum einen besteht der begründete Verdacht, dass die gebräuchlichen Termini die Verhältnisse der frühen Eisenzeit womöglich nicht hinreichend adäquat beschreiben – zum anderen entsprechen die Begrifflichkeiten aber auch nicht unseren heutigen, aktuellen Vorstellungen von Staatlichkeit, Zugehörigkeit zu politischen und gesellschaftlichen Systemen oder individuellen wie kollektiven „Identitäten“. 1 Es wäre eine Überlegung wert, ob es nicht in erster Linie dieser zweite Anachronismus ist, der den fraglichen Begriffen und Vorstellungen gerade deshalb das akademische Weiterleben sichert, weil er sie mit einer gewissen archaischen Anmutung auflädt, die sie für die beschriebenen archaischen Gegebenheiten als besonders geeignet erscheinen lässt. Dies betrifft mit Blick auf die eisenzeitlichen Königtümer Israel und Juda Begriffe wie „empire“, „United Monarchy“ oder „Doppelmonarchie“ 2 ebenso wie auch die gesamte Reichssemantik, sei es bei Fragen nach einem davidisch-salomonischen „Großreich“ 3 oder, in der selbst bei Kritik an diesem Denkmodell sich perpetuierenden Rede von „Nord-“ und „Südreich“. 4 Es ist in diesem Zusammenhang nur eine leichte Übertreibung festzustellen, dass die Beschreibung der Verhältnisse um die „Reichsgründung“ 5 Israels in der deutschen alttestamentlichen Forschung um die Wende vom 19. zum 20. Jahrhundert sich fast wie eine Allegorese der eigenen jüngeren Vergangenheit lesen lässt. 6 Man bekommt den Eindruck, 7 Samuel sei Bismarck, die Philister repräsen1

2 3

4 5 6

7

Zur Frage nach „Identität“ in diesem Zusammenhang vgl. das von Omer Sergi herausgegebene Themenheft der „Welt des Orients“ 2019/2, insbesondere Sergi, Identity und Bezzel, Saul ben Kish, 236f. Dietrich, Samuel 3, 289. Vgl. noch Donner, Geschichte 1, 220–242. Auch die bei ihm bereits begonnene Infragestellung der Vorstellung von einem „Einheitsreich“ (Donner, Geschichte 1, 220) kommt nicht ohne Begriffe aus der Vorstellungswelt der neuzeitlichen europäischen Monarchien aus: David ist König in „Personalunion“ (Donner, Geschichte 1, 220). Noch Adam, Saul und David, 44, spricht, mit Blick auf 2 Sam 2,1–11 von einer „Bildung des judäischen Reiches in Hebron“ (Hervorhebung Bezzel). Wellhausen, Geschichte, 66. Ein schönes Beispiel für diese Art der biblischen Hermeneutik im wilhelminischen Deutschland bilden die „Fest- und Gedenksprüche“ von Johannes Brahms aus dem Jahr 1889, deren dritte Motette, „Wo ist solch ein herrlich Volk“, Dtn 4,7.9 (nota bene: ohne V. 8 und seinen TorahBezug) eins zu eins auf die deutsche Reichsgründung von 1871 appliziert. Dieser „Eindruck“ wäre freilich der Überprüfung im Rahmen einer eigenen, systematisch angelegten Studie wert. Zur Kontextualisierung der alttestamentlichen Forschung im wilhelminischen Deutschland vgl. nun Kurtz, Kaiser.

Der „Saulidische Erbfolgekrieg“

167

tierten Frankreich, Saul stehe für Wilhelm I, der die verschiedenen Stämme in einem Reich zusammenführt – und je nachdem David oder Salomo entsprechen, horribile dictu, Wilhelm II, der das junge Reich an seinen Platz an der Sonne führt: „Israel trat in die Welt ein.“ 8 Auf diese Weise gesammelt und überspitzt dargestellt, ist der Anachronismus der vorgestellten Termini offensichtlich. Nichtsdestoweniger sind etliche von ihnen nach wie vor im Schwange und beeinflussen bewusst oder unbewusst die Vorstellung von „Staaten“ und „Staatenbildung“ in der frühen Eisenzeit, ebenso wie das Vorverständnis bei der Lektüre der in den Samuelbüchern gesammelten Texte. Ein Großteil der Literatur zu den Samuelbüchern wie auch aus der Gattung „Geschichte Israels“ erweist sich so als „Response to Monarchy“ – freilich nicht in erster Linie als Antwort auf die israelitischen oder judäischen Monarchien der Eisenzeit, sondern mehr auf die zentral- und westeuropäischen Monarchien im Zeitalter des Imperialismus, und hier eher im Sinne einer affirmativen denn einer kritischen Antwort. 9 Dies gilt auch für die Ereignisse am Übergang zwischen 1 Sam und 2 Sam, zwischen Sauls Tod auf Gilboa und Davids Einnahme von Jerusalem oder, anders gesagt, zwischen seiner zweiten und dritten Salbung. 10 Von diesem Abschnitt wird, je nach eingenommener Blickrichtung, als Isch-Boschets oder Eschbaals „Interregnum“ 11 gesprochen oder, wie ich selbst es tat, als „Saulidische[r] Erbfolgekrieg“ 12. Ein weiteres Mal verweisen die Begriffe auf die mitteleuropäische Geschichte und ihre dynastischen Kämpfe und Streitigkeiten, sei es das Interregnum im Heiligen Römischen Reich Deutscher Nation im 13. Jahrhundert oder, als einer von vielen seiner Art, der Spanische Erbfolgekrieg 1701–1714. Es ist selbstverständlich, dass alle eben genannten anachronistischen Termini nicht identisch, sondern per analogiam verwendet werden wollen. Sie haben den Charakter von wissenschaftlichen Modellen. 13 Als solche aber beeinflussen sie rückkoppelnd maßgeblich die Sicht auf die Sache, die sie beschreiben: Auch die uneigentliche Rede von einem „davidischen Großreich“ evoziert zwangsläufig Vorstellungen von Staatlichkeit des 19. nachchristlichen Jahrhunderts. Wie „Staatlichkeit“ in der Levante des 10. bis 5. vorchristlichen Jahrhunderts vorgestellt und gelebt wurde, mag dagegen eine ganz andere Frage sein.

8 9

10 11 12 13

Wellhausen, Geschichte, 66. Ohne vorschnell auf methodologische Etiketten zurückgreifen und die entsprechenden Rezeptionsreflexe hervorrufen zu wollen, läge m.E. in der weitergehenden Selbstaufklärung der alttestamentlichen Disziplin über diese Zusammenhänge ein Forschungsauftrag postkolonialer Exegese. Vgl. 1 Sam 16,13; 2 Sam 2,4; 5,3. So beispielsweise, durchaus kritisch gegenüber historischen Rekonstruktionen, Fischer, Hebron, 73. Bezzel, Saul, 139. Zur Rolle von Modellen in der Hermeneutik vgl. (in Anlehnung an Max Black und Mary Hesse) Ricœur, Biblische Hermeneutik, 293f.

168

2.

Hannes Bezzel

Palace-Kinship-Theorien und Davids Salbungen

Derartige Überlegungen sind nun nicht unbedingt absolut neu: Seit gut zwei bis drei Jahrzehnten wird in der vorderasiatischen Archäologie und Geschichtswissenschaft mit Modellen gearbeitet, die versuchen, den anzunehmenden weniger starren und stärker fluiden Charakter antiker politischer Entitäten zu beschreiben. An die Stelle der Vorstellung einer Entwicklung von einer staatenlosen Stämmegesellschaft hin zu einem zentral regierten Nationalstaat (nach dem Modell „from tribe to state“) 14 mit Staatsvolk und festen Staatsgrenzen treten eher weiche Modelle, die das früher gedachte Nacheinander von Stämmegesellschaft und Staatlichkeit in ein eher kontinuierliches Neben- und Miteinander überführen wollen. 15 Der Blick auf den gesamten Nahen und Mittleren Osten erlaubt es zudem, hierin nicht ein Phänomen des Übergangs zwischen etwa Bronze- und Eisenzeit zu sehen, sondern eine gesellschaftliche Struktur zu erkennen, die einer moyenne oder, eher noch, longue durée-Perspektive zugänglich ist. Bei diesen „Palace-kinship-Theorien“ ist der Ansatzpunkt nicht „oben“, beim König oder bei der Dynastie, sondern „unten“, auf der Ebene der Familien, Sippen oder Clans. 16 Diese sind über ihre Oberhäupter in Allianzen, Sippenverbänden oder „Stämmen“ verbunden, welche ihrerseits die Herrschaft eines Königs aus ihrer Mitte je nachdem stützen oder stürzen können. Das Verhältnis zwischen den Ebenen ist das des wechselseitigen Nutzens – und fluider Zugehörigkeiten und „Identitäten“. Das heißt, ein*e Israelit*in mag sich selbst womöglich nicht primär als „Staatsbürger*in“ des Königreichs Israel betrachtet haben, sondern zunächst als Mitglied einer Sippe, dann als Teil eines Stammes, und als solche*r womöglich auch als Teil eines Königtums. 17 Die Inschrift der Meschastele ist hierfür ein hervorragendes Beispiel: Sie präsentiert Mescha in Zeile 1 einerseits „staatlich“, als König von Moab (das wäre gewissermaßen der „palace“-Aspekt seiner Identität), andererseits aber in Zeile 1f. durch seine Herkunft mit der Nisbe dybny als „Diboniter“ – nicht als Moabiter: „Mesha identifies himself as Moab’s king, but not yet as a Moabite.“ 18 14 15 16

17

18

Sergi, Identity, 208; zum Folgenden vgl. Sergi, Identity, 208f. Vgl. dazu, mit Kritik an einem am biblischen Narrativ ausgerichteten evolutionären Denken, Pfoh, Dealing, 90f. Vgl. maßgeblich Schloen, House of the Father, 69–73; ferner Porter, die den konstruierten, nicht biologistisch misszuverstehenden Charakter von „kinship relations“ betont, vgl. Porter, Beyond Dimorphism, 217f.; für weitere Literatur vgl. Sergi, Identity, 207f. Ökonomische und soziopolitische Auswirkungen dieses Systems in der Jesreelebene sind Bestandteil eines von der Gerda-Henkel-Stiftung finanzierten Forschungsprojekts zur Grabung in Horvat Tevet, das von Karen Covello-Paran (Israel Antiquities Authority), Omer Sergi (Sonja and Marco Nadler Institute for Archaeology, Tel Aviv University) und mir selbst durchgeführt wird (vgl. dazu David, Royal Estate). Knauf, Cultural Impact, 50.

Der „Saulidische Erbfolgekrieg“

169

Sergi sieht hier einen Verweis auf seine „kinship identity, the social group with which he was affiliated.“ 19 Gleichermaßen ist es bei den „Männern von Gad“ in Zeile 10 der Inschrift in ihrem Verhältnis zum „König von Israel“ in Zeile 10f. nicht klar, ob und wenn ja wie sie als Teil der Entität „Israel“ betrachtet werden können. Diese kurze Skizze eines palace-kinship- oder palace-clan-Modells erlaubt nun auch, rückblickend die angesprochenen Anachronismen neu und differenzierter zu bewerten. Analogien des nationalstaatlich geprägten späten 19. und frühen 20. Jahrhunderts erscheinen so in der Tat als weniger geeignet – der Rückgriff auf Begriffe aus der Verfassungswirklichkeit des Heiligen Römischen Reichs Deutscher Nation vor 1806 wirkt dagegen eher angemessen. Wenn man nun, mit diesen Denkkategorien unterschiedlicher Zugehörigkeitssysteme im Kopf, die bekannte Geschichte von Eschbaals „Interregnum“ und dem „Saulidischen Erbfolgekrieg“ einer relecture unterzieht, lässt sie sich auf etwas andere als die vertraute Weise erzählen: Sie wird greifbar als Konflikt zweier Sippen, des Hauses David und des Hauses Saul. Nach dem Tod Sauls gelingt es David, sich der Loyalität der Familienoberhäupter des Sippenverbandes Juda zu versichern (2 Sam 2,4), während Eschbaal von Gilead, Ascher, Jesreel, Ephraim und Benjamin gestützt wird (2 Sam 2,8f.). Im gewaltsam ausgetragenen Konflikt erweist sich Eschbaal als schwacher Anführer, weshalb schließlich die entsprechenden Sippenoberhäupter ihre Unterstützung von ihm abziehen und David zuteil werden lassen (2 Sam 5,1–3), der als Anführer eines aus zahlreichen Untersippen bestehenden losen Stämmeverbundes mit der gemeinsamen kollektiven Identität „Israel“ zu sehen ist. Deutlich wird dieses System nicht zuletzt in den beiden Akten der Salbung sowie in dem in Hebron geschlossenen Bund (‫)ברית‬, durch den sich David in 2 Sam 5,3 die Loyalität der „Ältesten Israels“ (‫)זקני ישראל‬, also der Clanchefs, versichert. Es ist offensichtlich: Es ist die gleiche Geschichte wie die vom „Interregnum“ Eschbaals, und doch erhält sie, so gelesen, einen etwas anderen Akzent: Das dynastische Moment tritt in den Hintergrund, das Verhalten der Akteure wird auf andere Weise verständlich. Das Modell der kinship-relation-Gesellschaft ist überzeugend und bestechend, und entsprechend groß ist die Versuchung, die Erzählung der Samuelbücher in ihrer Endgestalt zu nehmen, durch den Filter der „kinship relation“ zu gießen und das Ergebnis als Rekonstruktion der Geschichte Israels zu präsentieren. 20 Viel, sehr viel in den Samuelbüchern ließe sich so erklären: Davids diverse Frauen, Sauls und Davids Feindschaft, Davids Dienst bei Achisch von Gat, der erwähnte Krieg nach Sauls Tod, sowie die ganzen Auseinandersetzungen in 2 Sam, die man seit Rost „Thronfolgegeschichte“ nennt. 19 20

Sergi, Identity, 209. Die Formulierung ist zugespitzt. Vgl. dennoch der Tendenz nach Niemann, Juda und Jerusalem, 159f.

170

Hannes Bezzel

Aus redaktionskritischer Perspektive freilich stellt sich die wichtige Scharnierstelle zwischen, um es in klassischer Terminologie zu sagen, „Aufstiegs-“ und „Thronfolgegeschichte“ noch einmal anders dar.

3.

Redaktionskritische Anfrage

Eine redaktionskritische Anfrage an das eben skizzierte historische Narrativ ergibt sich aus den folgenden vier Beobachtungen:

3.1

Der Tod der Söhne Sauls und Eschbaals „Interregnum“

Wie unter anderem André Heinrich bemerkt hat, 21 besteht eine gewisse Diskrepanz zwischen dem Auftreten und dem Abtreten der Söhne Sauls von der Bühne der Samuelbücher. Nach 1 Sam 14,49 hatte Saul drei Söhne: Jonathan, Jischwi und Malki-Schua. Nach 1 Sam 31,2 kämpft Saul auf Gilboa gemeinsam mit seinen Söhnen, und diese Söhne, drei an der Zahl, 22 fallen kurz vor ihm. Nur heißen sie nun Jonathan, Abinadab und Malki-Schua. Nimmt man 14,49 als alte Notiz ernst, bleibt nach der Katastrophe von Gilboa eigentlich kein Saulide für ein Interregnum übrig. Der Verdacht geht daher dahin, dass die Namen der Söhne in 1 Sam 31,2 nachgetragen worden sein könnten, um Jischwi alias Isch-Boschet alias Eschbaal ein, wenn auch kurzes, literarisches Nachleben zu ermöglichen. Wenn dem so wäre, erwiese sich der ganze Krieg zwischen Israel und Juda als sekundär gegenüber der Grundschicht von 1 Sam 31. Die Voraussetzung dafür ist freilich die erwähnte Alias-Deutung: Bei Jischwi in 1 Sam 14,49 handele es sich um die gleiche Figur wie bei Isch-Boschet / Eschbaal. Hier kann man unterschiedlicher Meinung sein. Walter Dietrich etwa tritt noch 1997 für die Identifikation beider ein, 23 um sie in neueren Arbeiten zurückzuweisen 24 oder aber auch als Möglichkeit – „ist umstritten“ 25 – stehenzulassen. Auch Alexander Fischer spricht sich gegen eine Gleichsetzung der beiden Figuren aus; er erwägt stattdessen, ob es sich bei Isch-Boschet um eine „künstliche Bildung“ aus Jischwi und Mefiboschet handele, da die Septuaginta in 2 Sam 3–4 „durchgängig vom Saulsohn Mefiboschet spricht.“ 26 Ein Saulsohn dieses Namens 21 22 23 24 25 26

Vgl. Heinrich, David und Klio, 358; vgl. auf Heinrich Bezug nehmend Bezzel, Numerous Deaths, 335; ders., Saul, 130. Die Rede ist in 1 Sam 31,6 determiniert von „seinen drei Söhnen“ (‫)שלשת בניו‬, nicht von „drei seiner Söhne“. Vgl. Dietrich, Frühe Königszeit, 152. Vgl. Dietrich, Samuel 2, 119f; 124f. Dietrich, Samuel 3, 332. Fischer, Hebron, 73.

Der „Saulidische Erbfolgekrieg“

171

ist aus 2 Sam 21 bekannt – mit einer älteren Überlieferung sollte man hier aber lieber nicht rechnen. 27 Die textkritische Situation bezeugt in jedem Fall eines, nämlich dass das Auftreten von Isch-Boschet / Eschbaal in 2 Sam 2–4 bereits in der Antike als nicht unbedingt selbstverständlich empfunden wurde. Als Gewährsperson für eine Gleichsetzung des Saulsohnes von 1 Sam 14,49 mit dem von 2 Sam 2–4 kann man immerhin den Verfasser von 1 Chr 8,33 ins Feld führen, der das Problem in dem Sinne additiv löst, als er Abinadab in die Liste aus 1 Sam 14 integriert und statt von Jischwi von Eschbaal spricht.

3.2

Wiederaufnahmen: 2 Sam 2 und 2 Sam 5

Der Verdacht, der gesamte Erzählkranz 2 Sam 2–4 könnte über die literarische Figur von Eschbaals Gegenkönigtum in den Zusammenhang einer wie auch immer gearteten Aufstiegsgeschichte Davids oder David Story sekundär eingearbeitet worden sein, erhält etwas mehr Nahrung, wenn man an das Phänomen denkt, das bei der Literarkritik der Samuelbücher vielleicht das wichtigste ist: Die sogenannte „Wiederaufnahme“: 28 Bei Einfügung eines kleineren oder auch größeren Textstücks in den vorliegenden Zusammenhang wird eine Stichzeile wörtlich oder fast wörtlich oder sinngemäß wiederholt, um den Fortgang des Textes zu ermöglichen. Unter dieser Prämisse kann die doppelte Salbung Davids in 2 Sam 2 und 2 Sam 5 als eine große Klammer mit Wiederaufnahme gesehen werden, die den gesamten Bereich des erwähnten „Saulidischen Erbfolgekrieges“ umschließt: „Und es kamen die Männer Judas und salbten dort David zum König über das Haus Juda“ (2 Sam 2,4a) „Und es kamen alle Ältesten Israels zum König nach Hebron, und es schloss mit ihnen der König David einen Bund in Hebron vor Jhwh. Und sie salbten David zum König über Israel.“ (2 Sam 5,3)

Im Hebräischen erschließt sich die Parallelität deutlicher: 2 Sam 2,4a ‫ויבאו אנשי יהודה וימשחו־שם את־דוד למלך על־בית יהודה‬ 2 Sam 5,3 ‫ויבאו כל־זקני ישראל אל־המלך חברונה ויכרת להם המלך דוד ברית בחברון לפני יהוה וימשחו את־‬ ‫דוד למלך על־ישראל‬

Wenn dem so ist und die Wiederaufnahme von 2 Sam 2,4a in 2 Sam 5,3 nicht als bloßes iteratives Stilmittel verstanden, sondern redaktionskritisch ausgewertet werden kann, gehört maximal eine der beiden Salbungsszenen zum älteren Bestand einer Aufstiegs- oder Davidgeschichte. Aus dieser Arbeitshypothese ergibt sich dann von selbst die Frage, welcher der beiden Salbungsnotizen die literargeschichtliche Priorität zukommt. 27 28

Vgl. Bezzel, Korrekturen, 201–207. Zum Phänomen vgl. grundlegend Wonneberger, Redaktion.

172

Hannes Bezzel

Das Zeugnis des ersten Chronikbuches scheint an dieser Stelle die These von der Wiederaufnahme zu stützen und auch bereits die zuletzt gestellte Frage zu beantworten: Auf den Tod Sauls und den interpretierenden Nachruf in 1 Chr 10 folgt direkt in 1 Chr 11,1–3 die Erhebung Davids zum König über Israel, in einer Fassung, die mit 2 Sam 5,1–3 parallel geht. Eine mögliche Interpretation dieses Befundes wäre nun, den gesamten Bereich von 2 Sam 1–4 als gegenüber dem synoptischen Zusammenhang von 1 Sam 31; 2 Sam 5 bzw. 1 Chr 10; 11 als sekundär zu betrachten. 29 Die Nennung Eschbaals in 1 Chr 8,33 wäre kein starkes Gegenargument, ließe sie sich doch problemlos einer anderen chronistischen Hand zuschreiben als das mutmaßliche synoptische Quellenstück. Die Option für diese synoptische Variante ist attraktiv, wird sich aber als in diesem Fall unterkomplex erweisen, wenn weitere Beobachtungen in die Untersuchung einbezogen werden. So erweitert sich die Problemstellung bereits um ein weiteres Glied, wenn man berücksichtigt, dass auch innerhalb von 2 Sam 5 (und gleichermaßen innerhalb von 1 Chr 11) eine Wiederaufnahme vorliegt, die freilich einen deutlich kleineren Bereich umspannt als die zu 2 Sam 2. Zwei Verse vor der erwähnten dritten Salbung Davids, in 2 Sam 5,1, wird ebenfalls davon berichtet, dass eine Personengruppe den zukünftigen Herrscher aufsucht, um ihm die Krone anzutragen. Hier sind es aber nicht „alle Ältesten Israels“ (‫כל־זקני ישראל‬, 2 Sam 5,3), sondern „alle Stämme Israels“ (‫כל־שבטי ישראל‬, 2 Sam 5,1) – in 1 Chr 11,1 „ganz Israel“ (‫)כל־ישראל‬: „Und es kamen alle Stämme Israels zu David nach Hebron und sagten: Siehe, dein Gebein und dein Fleisch sind wir.“ (2 Sam 5,1) „Und es kamen alle Ältesten Israels zum König nach Hebron, und es schloss mit ihnen der König David einen Bund in Hebron vor Jhwh. Und sie salbten David zum König über Israel.“ (2 Sam 5,3)

Die offensichtliche Parallele liegt im ersten Halb- bzw. Viertelvers: 2 Sam 5,1 ‫ויבאו כל־שבטי ישראל אל־דוד חברונה‬ 2 Sam 5,3 ‫ויבאו כל־זקני ישראל אל־המלך חברונה‬

Umschlossen wird von dieser Klammer die Erinnerung an Davids Rolle als Heerführer Sauls, vor allem aber die Erinnerung an seine Bestimmung durch Jhwh, „Fürst“ (‫ )נגיד‬über Israel zu sein (2 Sam 2,2). In seinen vorliegenden Gestalten präsentiert der Text hier selbstverständlich einen Vorgang und darin „two stages in the one process, or as two aspects of it“. 30 Nichtsdestoweniger drängt sich in diesem Fall eine literarkritische Interpretation der Wiederaufnahme geradezu auf, und dies zunächst einmal vollkommen unabhängig davon, wie man das Ver546F

29 30

Vgl. Auld, I & II Samuel, 364; 391f. Auld, I & II Samuel, 391.

Der „Saulidische Erbfolgekrieg“

173

hältnis der Samuelbücher zur Chronik 31 und das Verhältnis von 2 Sam 2,4 zu 2 Sam 5,1-3 beurteilt. Im Ergebnis haben wir also drei nicht identisch definierte Gruppen, die Davids Herrschaft legitimieren, welche ihrerseits ebenfalls jeweils unterschiedlich bestimmt wird. Um es noch einmal zu wiederholen: – In 2 Sam 2,4 salben die „Männer Judas“ (‫ )אנשי יהודה‬David zum „König über das Haus Juda“ (‫)למלך על־בית יהודה‬. – In 2 Sam 5,1 kommen „alle Stämme Israels“ (‫ )כל־שבטי ישראל‬und huldigen David als dem „Fürst über Israel“ (‫)לנגיד על־ישראל‬. – In 2 Sam 5,3 kommen „alle Ältesten Israels“ (‫ )כל־זקני ישראל‬und salben David zum „König über Israel“ (‫)למלך על־ישראל‬.

3.3

Der Konkordanzbefund

Mit Blick auf diese Beobachtungen und die Frage ihrer redaktionskritischen Auswertung ebenso wie mit Blick auf das eingangs dargestellte Konzept von „palaceclan-relationship“ empfiehlt es sich, die entsprechenden Begrifflichkeiten näher zu betrachten. Das sind zum einen die an den drei Belegstellen gebrauchten Wendungen, insbesondere die „Stämme Israels“ und die „Ältesten Israels“, zum anderen die Formulierungen, die mit „Haus“ gebildet sind, neben dem „Haus Juda“ von 2 Sam 2,4 noch „Haus Israel“, „Haus David“ und „Haus Saul“. Gerade diese patrimonialen Identitätsbestimmungen über ein „Haus“ sind für das Verhältnis von Dynastie und Sippenzusammenhängen von besonderem Interesse: J. David Schloens Studie über „The House of the Father as Fact and Symbol“ von 2001 32 bildet hier nach wie vor ein wichtiges Referenzwerk, und Mahri Leonard Fleckmans Buch „The House of David“ von 2016 33 veranschaulicht die aktuelle Relevanz dieser Deutungskategorie mit Blick auf die Samuelbücher. Eines der genannten vier Syntagmen, „Haus David“, ist bekanntlich auch außerbiblisch in Zeile 9 der Tel Dan-Inschrift als bytdwd belegt 34 – und nach einer freilich und zurecht äußerst umstrittenen Lesart Lemaires womöglich noch in Zeile 31 der Mescha-Stele. 35 31

32 33 34

35

Das Vorhandensein von redaktionellen Nahtstellen innerhalb des synoptischen Materials ist grundsätzlich weder ein Argument gegen noch für Aulds These eines „Book of Two Houses“ (BTH). Vgl. Schloen, House, 63–89. Vgl. für den theoretischen Hintergrund insbesondere Leonard-Fleckman, House, 41–52.

Vgl. dazu Davies, Beginnings, 55f., der aufgrund des biblischen Befundes zum „Haus David“ dafür plädiert, das in der Inschrift dem Wort bytdwt vorangehende Kaph lieber nicht als ‫ מלך‬zu rekonstruieren.

Vgl. Lemaire, House of David, 36; kritisch dazu Bordreuil, A propos, 162f; Davies, Beginnings, 58; sowie nun, mit dem Argument, dass in den bekannten westsemitischen Inschriften eine Kollektivbezeichnung „as the operative agent in a sentence“ nicht begegne, Na’aman, Alleged ‚Beth David‘, 194.

174

Hannes Bezzel

Zunächst zu den vier Kombinationen der Haus-Formel. Der schnell zu erhebende Befund in Samuel, Könige und Chronik ist wie folgt: – „Haus Israel“: 2 Sam 1,12; 12,8; 2 Kön 12,21.23 – „Haus Juda“: 2 Sam 2,4.7.10.11; 1 Kön 12,20; 2 Kön 19,30; 1 Chr 28,4; 2 Chr 11,1; 2 Chr 19,11; 2 Chr 22,10 – „Haus David“: 1 Sam 20,16; 2 Sam 3,1.6; 1 Kön 12,19f.26; 13,2; 14,8; 17,21; 1 Chr 17,24; 2 Chr 10,19; 21,7 36 – „Haus Saul“: 2 Sam 3,1.6.8.10; 2 Sam 9,1.2.3.(9); 16,5.8; 19,18; (21,1.4); (1 Chr 10,6); 12,30 Anhand dieses auf den ersten Blick vielleicht unübersichtlichen Konkordanzbefundes lassen sich drei Beobachtungen anstellen: a) Die Haus-Formulierungen sind nicht gleichmäßig über die Samuel- und Königebücher verteilt, sondern konzentrieren sich in zwei Clustern. Das ist zum einen der hier betrachtete Abschnitt über den „Saulidischen Erbfolgekrieg“ 2 Sam 2–4, und das ist zum anderen der längere Teil über die sogenannte „Reichsteilung“ in 1 Kön 12–14. b) Mit aller Vorsicht angesichts einer insgesamt überschaubaren Beleglage lässt sich feststellen, dass die Chronik eine gewisse Vorliebe für die Rede vom „Haus Juda“ hat: Von ihren vier Belegen zählen zwei (1 Chr 28,4; 2 Chr 19,11) zum chronistischen „Sondergut“, einer (2 Chr 22,10) hat das „Haus Juda“ als Plus gegenüber der Parallelstelle in 2 Kön 11,1. c) Beim Vergleich der beiden Cluster fällt auf: Im Fall der „Reichsteilung“ steht das „Haus Israel“ gegen das „Haus David“, welches vom „Haus Juda“ unterstützt wird. Im Falle des „Saulidischen Erbfolgekrieges“ steht in 2 Sam 3 das „Haus Saul“ gegen das „Haus David“, während im Präludium zu den Kämpfen in 2 Sam 2 das „Haus Juda“ genannt wird, das auf der Seite Davids (ohne „Haus“) steht. Aus diesen Beobachtungen lassen sich m.E. zwar vorsichtige, aber doch Schlüsse ziehen. Zum einen wird deutlich, dass – auf welcher Ebene der Buchwerdung auch immer – beide Ereignisse, der „Saulidische Erbfolgekrieg“ und die „Reichsteilung“, als strukturelle Parallelen betrachtet werden sollten: Der Norden ließ „David“ oder das „Haus David“ nicht nur einmal im Stich, sondern zweimal. Die Sezession des „Hauses Saul“ präfiguriert so diejenige Jerobeams. Die Formulierungen eines „Haus Juda“ und „Haus Israel“ setzen dabei das Konzept oder Ideal einer weitgehend zentralisierten Monarchie voraus, während zugleich die Vorstellung von sippenbasierten Loyalitäten (kinship relations) auch in den jüngeren Schichten der fraglichen Kapitel, etwa in 1 Kön 12, durchaus präsent ist. Zum anderen, und das klingt in der Rede von „jüngeren Schichten“ bereits an, lässt sich feststellen, dass keine der angeführten Belegstellen für eines der 36

Außerhalb des Bereichs von Samuel, Könige und Chronik: Jes 7,2.13; 22,22; Jer 21,12; Sach 12,7.8.10.12; 13,1; Neh 12,37.

Der „Saulidische Erbfolgekrieg“

175

vier Syntagmen zum einigermaßen konsensualen älteren literarischen Bestand der entsprechenden Kapitel zählen dürfte. Die einzige scheinbare Ausnahme bildet 2 Sam 2,4, Davids Krönung über das „Haus Juda“, die in der Regel zusammen mit der Krönung über Israel in 2 Sam 5,3 zum Kern einer Aufstiegsgeschichte Davids gerechnet wird. 37 Leonard-Fleckman freilich zieht aus der genannten Beobachtung und einer von ihr an anderer Stelle erkannten „Judah addition“ 38 den Schluss, die Szene der Salbung Davids in 2 Sam 2,4a gegenüber der in 2 Sam 5 als sekundär zu betrachten. Wie aber steht es um 2 Sam 5,1–3? Die im Kommen der beiden unterschiedlichen Delegationen liegende und seit langem erkannte Wiederaufnahme wurde oben bereits angesprochen. Budde hielt hier die zweite von den beiden Fassungen, in V. 3, für die jüngere. 39 In der Regel urteilt man heute genau umgekehrt und gibt der Formulierung mit den „Ältesten Israels“ den Vorzug gegenüber den „Stämmen Israels“. „Spätere“ hätten mit 5,1f. „das Ideal des Wahlkönigtums“ 40 hinzugefügt. Buddes Argument freilich bleibt beachtenswert: Er schließt von der Rede über die „Ältesten Israels“ in 2 Sam 5,3 auf deuteronomistische Hände. 41 In der Tat zeigt der Blick in die Konkordanz, dass die so archaisch und vertraut klingende Formulierung erstens nicht so häufig ist, wie man vielleicht denken mag – und zweitens vermutlich nicht so alt. Die Etikettierung „deuteronomistisch“ mag dabei etwas Wahres treffen. Es finden sich insgesamt 18 Belege zwischen Exodus und Chronik, und auch hier gilt: Man befindet sich an keiner der genannten Stellen in altem Bestand. 42 Somit wäre 2 Sam 5,1f. die jüngere Fortschreibung eines seinerseits wohl eher nicht vordeuteronomistischen Verses 5,3. Der Konkordanzbefund erhärtet so den oben unter 3.2 geäußerten Verdacht einer großen Wiederaufnahme mit dem Ziel der Integration von Isch-Boschets „Interregnum“ in den Zusammenhang der Aufstiegsgeschichte Davids – und lenkt die Aufmerksamkeit zurück auf 2 Sam 2.

37

38 39 40 41 42

Vgl. Heinrich, David und Klio, 359, der „2 Sam 2,1.2aα.3aLXX.b.4a; 5,3.6aαLXX.9“ als Ende einer Aufstiegsgeschichte Davids bestimmt; vgl. Kratz, Komposition, 186f., mit 2 Sam 1,aα1.3–4a; 8f. und Isch-Boschets Königtum hin zu 5,3; vgl. Veijola, Dynastie, 64, der die Nähe zwischen 2 Sam 5,3 und der „unbestreitbar alte[n] Notiz 2 Sam 2:4“ betont. Auf einer jüngeren redaktionellen Ebene sieht auch Becker 2 Sam 2,4a und 5,3 „am zwanglosesten demselben Stratum“ zugehörig an (Becker, Reichsteilung, 225); ähnlich Fischer, Hebron, 269f. Leonard-Fleckman, House, 149; vgl. dies., Judah Bookends, 407f. Vgl. Budde, Bücher Samuel, 218. Kratz, Komposition, 186; vgl. Stoebe, Buch Samuelis, 155; Kutsch, David, 78. Vgl. Budde, Bücher Samuel, 218. Die Stellen im Einzelnen sind: Ex 3,16; 12,21; 17,6; 18,12; Num 16,25; Dtn 31,9; 1 Sam 4,3; 8,4; 2 Sam 3,17; 5,3; 17,4.15; 1 Kön 8,1.3; Ez 20,3; 1 Chr 11,3; 2 Chr 5,2.4

176

3.4

Hannes Bezzel

2 Sam 2,1-4

Hier stellen sich die Verhältnisse in der Tat anders dar als in 2 Sam 5. Subjekt in 2 Sam 2,4a sind die besagten „Männer Judas“, die in einer ähnlichen Rolle, nämlich als Vertreter der Landaristokratie oder der Sippen, biblisch noch ein weiteres Mal und in einer ähnlichen Situation auftreten: 43 Bei der Frage der Nachfolge Davids auf den Thron, genauer, als Gäste des von Adonija ein wenig vorzeitig bereiteten Krönungsmahles in 1 Kön 1,9, hier freilich näher bestimmt als „Diener des Königs“ (‫)כל־אנשי יהודה עבדי המלך‬. 44 Dass auch der kurze Abschnitt 2 Sam 2,1–4 nicht literarisch einheitlich ist, ist bekannt. Ziemlich offensichtlich gibt sich die unmittelbare Fortsetzung als sekundär zu erkennen: 45 Der Abschnitt 2 Sam 2,4b–7, der die Männer von Jabesch ins Spiel bringt, auf ihre Heldentat in 1 Sam 31 rekurriert und Davids Großherzigkeit herausstellt, ist durch die Wiederaufnahme der Salbungsnotiz von V. 4a in V. 7b gerahmt. Der Rest sind Details. Innerhalb von 2 Sam 2,1–4a ist es zunächst die Liste von Davids Frauen in V. 2aβ.b, die aus dem weiteren Kontext heraus ergänzt wirkt und die vor allem den Zusammenhang von 2,1aα zu 2,3 unterbricht, was wiederum den in LXX (noch) nicht vorhandenen Nachtrag von Subjekt und Prädikat ‫ העלה דוד‬in V. 3 erforderlich gemacht haben mag. Subjekt von 2,1aα.3 sind ursprünglich „David und seine Männer, die mit ihm waren, ein Mann und sein Haus“. Die Notiz von V. 4b, dass sich diese „in den Städten Hebrons“ niedergelassen hätten, mag dagegen sekundär sein – der Wechsel in den Plural kann darauf hindeuten. Dem Kern des Abschnitts abgesprochen wird zuweilen auch Davids Orakelbefragung in V. 1. 46 Dagegen spricht zunächst die textkritische Entscheidung in V. 3 – will man V. 1 im Kern auf „und es geschah danach“ reduzieren, 47 um mit V. 3 fortzufahren, braucht man das MT-Plus zwingend. Auch dann bliebe der Anfang mit dem auf diese Weise als Objekt zu lesenden „und seine Männer“ nicht eben schön, müsste doch das Bezugswort für das Suffix – David – erst noch nachgereicht werden. 560F

43

44

45

46 47

„Die Männer von Juda“ findet man sonst noch in Esr 10,9, hier als „alle Männer Judas und Benjamins“ (‫ )כל־אנשי יהודה ובנימין‬und offenbar nicht die Sippenhäupter, sondern die ganze Bevölkerung meinend. Rudnig betrachtet 1 Kön 1,9f. als Dublette zu 1,7f. und sieht die Priorität beim erstgenannten Vers (vgl. Rudnig, Davids Thron, 78f.) – Vermeylen, Loi, 445f., bestimmt das Verhältnis umgekehrt. Vgl. Veijola, Dynastie, 53, n. 40; Kratz, Komposition, 186, n. 94; pace Hutton, der die Verse als direkte Fortsetzung von 1 Sam 31,11–13 auf der gleichen literarischen Ebene wie diese ansiedelt, vgl. Hutton, Palimpsest, 241; 286f.; pace auch Adam, der die literargeschichtliche Linie von 2,11 zu 2,4–7 und 2,1–3 zieht (Adam, Saul und David, 60f.). Vgl. Kratz, Komposition, 187. Vgl. Kratz, Komposition, 187.

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177

Positiv formuliert sind es gerade die Orakelbefragung in der Art und Weise, wie von ihr erzählt wird, sowie das Subjekt „David und seine Männer“, die das Stück in 2 Sam 4 mit dem Kern der mutmaßlich zum älteren Teil einer Aufstiegsgeschichte gehörenden Erzählung von David in Keïla (1 Sam 23*) verbinden. 48 Auf diese Weise gelangt man zu einer ähnlichen vorläufigen Grundschicht wie Heinrich, 49 die 2 Sam 2,1.2aα.3aLXX.4a umfasst 50 – und dann ist da noch der oben breit ausgeführte Befund zum „Haus Juda“. Wenn man bereit ist, der bisherigen Argumentation zu folgen, ergeben sich an dieser Stelle drei Optionen: Option 1: Ausgehend vom Konkordanzbefund spricht man mit 2 Sam 5,1–3 auch die Erhebung Davids zum König in 2 Sam 2,1–4 insgesamt der Grundschicht einer Aufstiegsgeschichte ab. Das erscheint zunächst plausibel, bringt aber das Problem mit sich, dass in jeder möglichen Fortsetzung in 2 Sam, am ehesten wohl in 2 Sam 5,6, Davids Königsein und damit auch sein Königgewordensein bereits vorausgesetzt wird. Option 2: Mit Blick auf den Konkordanzbefund deklariert man den Beleg von „Haus Juda“ in 2 Sam 2,4 zur Ausnahme, welche die Regel bestätigt oder zur ältesten Stelle, von der alle anderen abstammen. Oder aber, Option 3: Man wagt im Hinblick auf alle bisherigen Überlegungen einen durch weitere Auffälligkeiten im Text nicht indizierten literarkritischen Eingriff in 2 Sam 2,4a und spricht die Spezifizierung „über das Haus Juda“ (‫)על־בית יהודה‬ der Grundschicht ab. Der Abschnitt endete so mit „und sie salbten dort David zum König“ (‫)וימשחו־שם את־דוד למלך‬. Hieran schlösse sich, stilistisch dem Zusammenhang von 2,1.2aα.3a nicht unähnlich, 51 direkt 2 Sam 5,6 an: „Und es ging der König und seine Männer nach Jerusalem“ (‫)וילך המלך ואנשיו ירושלם‬. Alle drei Optionen sind insofern ähnlich schwach begründet, als sie auf Prämissen und Vorentscheidungen beruhen, deren wichtigste das Postulat einer vordeuteronomistischen Daviderzählung ist, die in diesem Bereich der Samuelbücher zu finden wäre. Nur unter dieser Voraussetzung ist die Argumentation unter 3.3 relevant. Wenn diese Annahme aber gelten soll, plädiere ich, angesichts aller bisherigen Überlegungen, für Option 3. Der mögliche Einwand, dass man auf diese Weise eine Grundschicht erhielte, die zwar von der Erhebung Davids zum König spreche, aber die Größe, über die diese Herrschaft ausgeübt werden solle, überhaupt nicht erwähne, ist weniger stark als es den Anschein hat. 1 Sam 11,15, meiner Einschätzung nach die zweitälteste der Notizen über die Erhebung Sauls zum

48 49 50

51

Vgl. Veijola, David in Keïla, 10f.; sowie, diesem in der Analyse von 2 Sam 23 weitgehend folgend, Müller, David in Keïla; zum Zusammenhang auch Bezzel, Saul and David. Vgl. Heinrich, David und Klio, 359 und oben, Fußnote 39. Vermeylen, Loi, 190, klammert zudem V. 3 aus, den er einem „rédacteur de l’époque perse“ zuschreibt. Dieser Vers ist aber, zumindest im Kern, für den Zusammenhang nicht zuletzt des doppelten Subjekts „David und seine Männer“ erforderlich. Vgl. „Und es zog dorthin hinauf David und seine Männer“ (‫)ויעל שם דוד ואנשיו‬.

178

Hannes Bezzel

König, 52 spricht, ganz ähnlich wie die postulierte Grundschicht von 2 Sam 2,4a, lediglich davon, dass „das Volk“ (‫ )העם‬Saul in Gilgal „zum König macht“ (‫ )וימלכו‬53 – über welche Größe, bleibt auch hier ungenannt. Von hier aus gedacht, erhält das scheinbare Manko der postulierten Grundschicht von 2 Sam 2,4a sogar Sinn: In dem anzunehmenden literarischen Zusammenhang aus Saulüberlieferung und Davidüberlieferung, der durch eine Aufstiegsgeschichte oder Davidgeschichte hergestellt wird, sind, das Königtum Sauls über Israel mit 1 Sam 14,47 vorausgesetzt, „zum König machen“ und „zum König salben“ selbsterklärend. Ein Gegensatz zweier „Staaten“ ist auf dieser Ebene nicht im Blick. Im Kontext einer erweiterten Saulüberlieferung ergibt sich so für eine mutmaßliche Aufstiegsgeschichte Davids unter Berücksichtigung von kinship-relations folgende Perspektive: Saul wird König über Israel, gestützt auf seine benjaminitische Verwandtschaft. David, aus Bethlehem in Juda, macht bei diesem König Karriere, heiratet dessen Tochter und ist nach dem Tod des Schwiegervaters sein natürlicher Nachfolger. Als solcher wird er bestätigt durch die Männer aus Juda, seine kinship-Gruppe. Saul aus Benjamin wird König über Israel – und David aus Juda wird als sein Nachfolger ebenfalls König über Israel, 54 ohne dass dies explizit gesagt werden müsste. 55 Erst spätere Ergänzungen, die sich nicht zuletzt im Eintrag von Eschbaals Interregnum in 2 Sam 2–4 artikulieren, verstehen „Israel“ und „Juda“ mehr „staatlich“ denn „kinship-based“ und lesen die Namen vor dem Hintergrund des Gegensatzes der beiden zuweilen rivalisierenden Königtümer des achten Jahrhunderts. Nichtsdestoweniger zeigen gerade die späten und sehr späten Rückgriffe auf die Begrifflichkeiten der Sippen- und Clanstrukturen die Perseveranz des Denkens in palace-clan-Zusammenhängen und „kinship relations“ als longue durée-Phänomen. Sie bilden die Matrix für das Denken in monarchisch-dynastischen Zusammenhängen, und sie bilden eine Matrix für unterschiedliche „responses“ auf die Herrschaftsform Monarchie – während der Zeit des Bestehens der eisenzeitlichen Königtümer Israel und Juda ebenso wie danach. 569F

52 53 54 55

Vgl. Bezzel, Saul, 200–202. In LXX ist es Samuel, der zum König salbt. Vgl. mit anderer literarkritischer Einschätzung, Sergi, Erzählung, 42; ders., Rethinking, 382f. Bei anderer literar- und redaktionskritischer Analyse ist dieses Ergebnis dem von LeonardFleckman nicht unähnlich, die David ursprünglich als König über Israel ansieht und den Aspekt der „Doppelmonarchie“ für sekundär hält (vgl. Leonard-Fleckman, House, 150; 182–184; dies., Judah Bookends, 407f.)

Der „Saulidische Erbfolgekrieg“

4.

179

Interpretation und Anachronismen II

Der Blick auf „Eschbaals Interregnum“ und den „Saulidischen Erbfolgekrieg“ aus der Perspektive von palace-clan-Theorien und Redaktionskritik hat zu folgenden Thesen geführt: 1. Die Endgestalt der Samuelbücher, speziell die Ereignisse zwischen Sauls Tod und Davids Einnahme von Jerusalem im untersuchten Bereich von 2 Sam 2– 5, bieten sich hervorragend dafür an, im Lichte sozio-historischer Modelle von kinship-Theorien gelesen zu werden. 2. Redaktionskritisch betrachtet erscheint jedoch der gesamte Block zwischen 2 Sam 2,4b und 2 Sam 4,12 als durch eine Wiederaufnahme gerahmte Einschreibung (von Material unterschiedlicher Provenienz) in den vorliegenden Erzählzusammenhang einer Aufstiegsgeschichte Davids oder Davidgeschichte. 3. Dieser ältere Erzählzusammenhang läuft über 2 Sam 2,1.2aα.3aLXX.4a (ohne ‫ )על־בית יהודה‬direkt zu 2 Sam 5,6. 4. Palace-clan-Theorien eröffnen gerade in ihrer Eigenschaft als Beschreibung von longue durée-Phänomenen hervorragende Möglichkeiten für das Verständnis der „erzählenden Bücher“ des Alten Testaments jenseits hergebrachter anachronistischer Konzepte von Staatlichkeit – und dies diachron durch alle literarischen Schichten. 5. Anachronismen. Ich hatte den vorliegenden Beitrag damit begonnen, Anachronismen in der überkommenen Rede von der „frühen Monarchie“ in Israel zu benennen und ihre verständnisleitende Wirkung im Vorgang der Interpretation aufzuzeigen. Anachronistisch nannte ich die herangezogenen Modelle von Staat und Monarchie deshalb, weil die bestimmenden Kategorien der Welt neuzeitlicher Exeget*innen entstammten und nicht der frühen Eisenzeit. Dies freilich gilt gleichermaßen für die Konzepte von kinship-relation. Sie sind als Beschreibung eine Idee nun nicht mehr des späten 19., aber doch des frühen 21. Jahrhunderts und daher womöglich, wenn nicht gar wahrscheinlich, die Anachronismen der Zukunft. Dieser Umstand lässt sich nicht umgehen. Er liegt in der hermeneutischen Situation als solcher begründet. Das Bewusstsein darum mag einerseits dazu beitragen, die eingangs skizzierten Rekonstruktionen der Geschichte Israels nicht nur kritisch zu hinterfragen, sondern auch kontextualisierend zu würdigen. Andererseits mag es dazu verhelfen, auch zu zeitgenössischen Kategorien des Verstehens in kritische Distanz zu treten, soweit dies möglich ist. Sie sind nicht nur ihrerseits „response to monarchy“, sondern „response to response“ in kaum definierbarer Ableitung.

180

Hannes Bezzel

Literatur Adam, Klaus-Peter: Saul und David in der judäischen Geschichtsschreibung. Studien zu 1 Samuel 16– 2 Samuel 5 (FAT 51), Tübingen 2007. Auld, A. Graeme: I & II Samuel. A Commentary (OTL), Louisville (KY), 2011. Becker, Uwe: Die Reichsteilung nach I Reg 12, in: ZAW 112 (2000), 210–229. Bezzel, Hannes: The Numerous Deaths of King Saul, in: Edenburg, Cynthia / Pakkala, Juha (Hg.): Is Samuel among the Deuteronomists? Current Views on the Place of Samuel in a Deuteronomistic History, (SBLAIL 16), Atlanta 2013, 325–347. ________. Chronistisch beeinflusste Korrekturen am Bild Sauls in den Samuelbüchern?, in: Becker Uwe / Bezzel, Hannes (Hg.): Rereading the Relecture? The Question of (Post)chronistic Influence in the Latest Redactions of the Books of Samuel (FAT II 66), Tübingen 2014, 183–214. ________. Saul. Israels König in Tradition, Redaktion und früher Rezeption (FAT 97), Tübingen 2015. ________. Saul ben Kish – Relevant for Which Identity, in: WdO 49 (2019), 236–251. ________. Saul and David. Stages of Their Literary Relationship, in: Bezzel, Hannes / Kratz, Reinhard G. (Hg.): David in the Desert. Tradition and Redaction in the „History of David’s Rise” (BZAW 514), Berlin / Boston, im Druck. Bordreuil, Pierre: A propos de l’inscription de Mesha. Deux notes, in: Daviau, Paulette M. / Wevers, John W. / Weigl, Michael (Hg.): The World of the Aramaeans. Studies in Language and Literature in Honour of Paul-Eugène Dion (JSOT.S 326), Sheffield 2001, 158–167. Budde, Karl: Die Bücher Samuel (KHC 8), Tübingen / Leipzig 1902. David, Ariel: ‚Royal Estate‘ that Served Biblical Kings Found in Northern Israel, in: Haaretz 29 January 2020, https://www.haaretz.com/archaeology/.premium-royal-estate-that-served-biblicalkings-found-in-northern-israel-1.8464444 [zuletzt abgerufen am 05.02.2020]. Dietrich, Walter: Die frühe Königszeit in Israel. 10. Jahrhundert v. Chr. (BE 3), Stuttgart 1997. ________. Samuel. Teilband 2: 1Sam 13–26 (BK 8,2), Neukirchen-Vluyn 2015. ________. Samuel. Teilband 3: 1Sam 27–2Sam 8 (BK 8,3), Göttingen 2019. Donner, Herbert: Geschichte Israels und seiner Nachbarn in Grundzügen. Teil 1: Von den Anfängen bis zur Staatenbildung (GAT 4/1), Göttingen 21995. Fischer, Alexander A.: Von Hebron nach Jerusalem. Eine redaktionsgeschichtliche Studie zur Erzählung von König David in 2Sam 1–5 (BZAW 335), Berlin / New York 2004. Heinrich, André: David und Klio. Historiographische Elemente in der Aufstiegsgeschichte Davids und im Alten Testament (BZAW 401), Berlin/New York 2009. Hutton, Jeremy: The Transjordanian Palimpsest. The Overwritten Texts of Personal Exile and Transformation in the Deuteronomistic History (BZAW 396), Berlin / New York 2009. Knauf, Ernst Axel: The Cultural Impact of Secondary State Formation. The Cases of the Edomites and Moabites, in: Bienkowski, Piotr (Hg.): Early Edom and Moab. The Beginning of the Iron Age in Southern Jordan (Sheffield Archaeological Monographs 7), Sheffield 1992, 47–54. Kratz, Reinhard Gregor: Die Komposition der erzählenden Bücher des Alten Testaments. Grundwissen der Bibelkritik (UTB 2157), Göttingen 2000. Kurtz, Paul Michael: Kaiser, Christ, and Canaan. The Religion of Israel in Protestant Germany, 18711918 (FAT 122), Tübingen 2018. Kutsch, Ernst; Wie David König wurde. Beobachtungen zu 2.Sam 2,4a und 5,3, in: Gunneweg, Antonius H. J. / Kaiser, Otto (Hg.): Textgemäß. Aufsätze und Beiträge zur Hermeneutik des Alten Testaments. FS Ernst Würthwein, Göttingen 1979, 75–93. Lemaire, André: „House of David“. Restored in Moabite Inscription, in: BAR 20 (1994) 30–37. Leonard-Fleckman, Mahri: Judah Bookends. The Priority of Israel and Literary Revision in the David Narrative, in: VT 65 (2015), 401–413. ________. The House of David. Between Political Formation and Literary Revision, Minneapolis (MN) 2016.

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Müller, Reinhard: David in Keïla. Zur Literargeschichte von 1Sam 23,1–13, in: Bezzel, Hannes / Kratz, Reinhard G. (Hg.): David in the Desert. Tradition and Redaction in the „History of David’s Rise“ (BZAW 514), Berlin / Boston, im Druck. Na’aman, Nadav: The Alleged ‚Beth David‘ in the Mesha Stele. The Case Against it, in: Tel Aviv 46 (2019), 192–197. Niemann, Hermann Michael: Juda und Jerusalem. Überlegungen zum Verhältnis von Stamm und Stadt und zur Rolle Jerusalems in Juda, in: UF 37 (2016), 147–190. Pfoh, Emanuel: Dealing with Tribes and States in Ancient Palestine, in: SJOT 22 (2008), 86–113. Porter, Anne: Beyond Dimorphism. Ideologies and Materialities of Kinship as Time-Space Distanciation, in: Szuchman, Jeffrey (Hg.): Nomads, Tribes, and the State in the Ancient Near East (Oriental Institute Seminars 5), Chicago (Il) 2009, 201–225. Ricœur, Paul: Biblische Hermeneutik, in: Harnisch, Wolfgang (Hg.), Die neutestamentliche Gleichnisforschung im Horizont von Hermeneutik und Literatur (WdF 575), Darmstadt 1982, 248–339. Rudnig, Thilo Alexander: Davids Thron. Redaktionskritische Studien zur Geschichte von der Thronnachfolge Davids (BZAW 358), Berlin / New York 2006. Schloen, David J.: The House of the Father as Fact and Symbol. Patrimonialism in Ugarit and the Ancient Near East (Studies in the Archaeology and History of the Levant 2), Winona Lake (IN) 2001. Sergi, Omer: Rethinking Israel and the Kingdom of Saul, in: Lipschits, Oded / Gadot, Yuval / Adams, Matthew J. (Hg.), Rethinking Israel. Studies in the History and Archaeology of Ancient Israel in Honor of Israel Finkelstein, Winona Lake (IN), 2017, 371–388. ________. Israelite Identity and State Formation in the Iron I–IIA Central Canaanite Highlands, WdO 49 (2019), 206–235. ________. Erzählung, Geschichten und Geschichte in den biblischen Überlieferungen von der Entstehung der israelitischen Monarchie (1 Sam 9–2 Sam 5), in: Fischer, Irmtraud / Claassens, Juliana (Hg.): Prophetie (Die Bibel und die Frauen. Eine exegetisch-kulturgeschichtliche Enzyklopädie 1.2), Stuttgart 2019, 19–43. Stoebe, Hans Joachim: Das zweite Buch Samuelis (KAT 8/2), Gütersloh 1994. Veijola, Timo: Die ewige Dynastie. David und die Entstehung seiner Dynastie nach der deuteronomistischen Darstellung (AASF.B 193), Helsinki 1975. ________. David in Keïla. Tradition und Interpretation in 1Sam 23,1–13*, in: Ders.: David. Gesammelte Studien zu den Davidüberlieferungen des Alten Testaments (SESJ 52), Göttingen 1990, 5–42. Vermeylen, Jacques: La loi du plus fort. Histoire de la rédaction des récits davidiques de 1 Samuel 8 à 1 Rois 2 (BEThL 154), Leuven 2000. Wellhausen, Julius: Israelitische und jüdische Geschichte, Berlin 71914. Wonneberger, Reinhard. Redaktion. Studien zur Textfortschreibung im Alten Testament, entwickelt am Beispiel der Samuel-Überlieferung, FRLANT 156, Göttingen 1992.

Conquering all the Enemies West, East, South, and North: Envisioning Power in the Books of Samuel and the Ancient Near East 1 Sara Kipfer

Summary The parallels between 1 Sam 14:47–48, 52 and 2 Sam 8:11*–12, 15* have long been noted (Budde 1902). However, their relation is still debated: it has been argued that the list of Saul’s wars was written in analogy to the wars of David (Stoebe 1973; Bezzel 2015) or, vice versa, that the praise of Saul was later added to the story of David (Dietrich 2015). Finally, it has been suggested that both lists were the product of the same redactor (Eißfeldt 1931; Veijola 1975; Klein 2002). This paper will reevaluate these complicated literary historical problems by taking into account the ancient Near Eastern context. The passages 1 Sam 14:47–52 and 2 Sam 8:11–12, 15* show striking similarities to battle reports by Aramean, Moabite and especially Neoassyrian rulers (e.g. Shalmaneser III). These rulers seem to have used notes about the conquered people, numbers of casualties, reports of hostile coalitions, lists of booty and the items’ consecration, mentions of tributaries and governors, etc., in their power-communication. The phenomenon of envisioning the power of one king in comparison to that of another was very common and some deeds may occur repeatedly. Considering the relation of power and knowledge it is not surprising that Saul and David were depicted as successfully fighting against all their enemies west, east, south and north. Although 1 Sam 14:47–52, 2 Sam 8:11*–12, 15*, and 2 Sam 8:1–11*, 13–14 may not be regarded as “historiography”, they should be considered as three independent although fragmentary lists displaying the early Israelite and Judahite monarchy’s self-conception and shedding light on the respective rules of David and Saul and the communication of each king’s power. Die Parallelen zwischen 1 Sam 14,47–48.52 und 2 Sam 8,11*–12.15* sind seit langem bekannt (Budde 1902). Ihre Beziehung wird jedoch immer noch diskutiert: Es wurde argumentiert, dass die Liste von Sauls Kriegen in Analogie zu den Kriegen Davids geschrieben wurde (Stoebe 1973; Bezzel 2015), oder umgekehrt, dass der Triumph Sauls später der David-Erzählung hinzugefügt wurde (Dietrich 2015). Schließlich wurde vorgeschlagen, dass beide Listen das Produkt ein und desselben Redaktors sind (Eißfeldt 1931; Veijola 1975; Klein 2002). In dieser Studie sollen die komplexen literaturgeschichtlichen Probleme unter Berücksichtigung des altorientalischen Kontexts neu bewertet werden. Die Passagen 1 Sam 14,47–52 und 2 Sam 8,11–12.15* zeigen auffällige Ähnlichkeiten mit Schlachtberichten aramäischer, moabitischer und vor allem neuassyrischer Herrscher (z.B. Salmanassar III.). Diese Herrscher scheinen in ihrer Machtkommunikation Vermerke über das eroberte Volk, die Zahl der Opfer, Berichte über feindliche Koalitionen, 1

I am grateful to Jeremy M. Hutton (University of Wisconsin-Madison) for his careful reading and commenting on this paper as well as to Ariel M. Bagg (Heidelberg University) for discussions and bibliographical references. I express my thanks also to David G. Firth and Rachelle Gilmour, who gave me the opportunity to present an earlier version of the paper in the session „Book of Samuel: Narrative, Theology and Interpretation“ at the Annual Meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature, in Denver 2018.

184

Sara Kipfer

Beute- und Weihungslisten, Erwähnungen von Tributpflichtigen und Statthaltern usw. verwendet zu haben. Das Phänomen, die Macht eines Königs im Vergleich zu der eines anderen Königs zu präsentieren, war sehr verbreitet, und manche Taten können wiederholt genannt werden. In Anbetracht des Verhältnisses von Macht und Wissen ist es nicht überraschend, dass Saul und David als erfolgreich im Kampf gegen all ihre Feinde im Westen, Osten, Süden und Norden dargestellt wurden. Obwohl 1 Sam 14,47–52, 2 Sam 8,11*–12.15* und 2 Sam 8,1–11*.13–14 nicht als „Geschichtsschreibung“ betrachtet werden können, sollten sie als drei unabhängige, wenn auch fragmentarische Listen gesehen werden, die das Selbstverständnis der frühen israelitischen und judäischen Monarchie widerspiegeln und die jeweiligen Herrschaftssysteme von David und Saul sowie die Kommunikation der Macht des jeweiligen Königs beleuchten.

1.

Introduction

The books of Samuel engage to a large extent in a discourse concerning power and its restriction. Their focus lies not on the defense of the acquisition and maintenance of power (“political apology”), nor can they be seen as “popular heroic literature”. Instead they rather seem to provide stories related to power, its many assets as well as its liabilities, its limits in respect to time and space, and its (il)legitimate use with regard to social status (e.g. elites such as king, prophet, priest, judge), gender (e.g. king’s mother), and age (e.g. the youngest versus his elder brothers). 2 The books of Samuel, however, do not only engage in the power discourse, but became themselves a medium both to foster and to question power. They were involved in the communication of power in a specific religious historical context and as changing over time. 3 Although power structures and relations of communication are distinct, it is obvious that both are highly dependent on each other. 4 The process of writing and different ways of transmission, such as composing, compiling, synthetizing, translating, and finally canonizing, are closely connected to power. 5 2 3

4

5

For more detailed argumentation and a research overview see Kipfer, Der bedrohte David, 39–49. See further the contribution by Johnson, “An Unapologetic Apology,” in this volume. See e.g. Dietrich, “Zwischen Gott und Volk,” 137–156. Campbell, 2 Samuel, 82, already pointed to the problem by stating that “[…] it is highly unwise to speak of ‘the author of 2 Sam. 8 … [as] a highly skilled propogandist’ (Halpern, Secret Demons, 158), without discussion of the complex and differing tradition incorporated into this compilation.” See Foucault, “The Subject of Power,” 786: “It is necessary also to distinguish power relations from relationships of communication which transmit information by means of a language, a system of signs, or any other symbolic medium. No doubt communicating is always a certain way of acting upon another person or persons. But the production and circulation of elements of meaning can have as their objective or as their consequence certain results in the realm of power; the latter are not simply an aspect of the former.” Foucault introduced the concept of power into contemporary philosophy, claiming that power is productive of both knowledge and practice. He was criticized by Jürgen Habermas, who insisted that power may be tempered by a critical theory. See Kelly, Critique and Power. For the relation between writing and politics see e.g. Sanders, The Invention of Hebrew, 118–120.

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185

The relation between power and knowledge (pouvoir et savoir) has especially been stressed by Michel Foucault. 6 His thesis is – as Wolf has summarized – that knowledge and power “are dialectically related such that neither is possible without the other, and that both are implicated in domination.” 7 Power generally is based on knowledge and makes use of knowledge. 8 It is highly relational and, as Foucault puts it, “functions in the form of a chain”. 9 “It is never localised here or there, never in anybody’s hands, never appropriated as a commodity or piece of wealth. Power is employed and exercised through a net-like organisation. And not only do individuals circulate between its threads; they are always in the position of simultaneously undergoing and exercising this power.” 10 In this paper, I will present some of the key elements of the communication of military power in the books of Samuel. Warfare was one of the main functions of the king in the ancient Near East. 11 A short presentation of 1 Sam 14:47–48 and 2 Sam 8:11–12, 15*, its parallels, and a research overview over the different literary-critical approaches stand at the starting point. I will then contextualize these passages by looking at the larger literary context, especially 2 Sam 5*, 8 and 10, as well as some Assyrian, Moabite, and Aramaic texts, and propose a historical context for this communication of power.

2.

Saul and David as Successful Warlords in 1 Sam 14:47–48 and 2 Sam 8:11–12, 15*

The text about Saul’s military leadership in 1 Sam 14:47–48 and the short report of David’s deeds in 2 Sam 8:11–12, 15* show striking similarities. 12 Many of them have already been noted by Budde in 1902. 13

6 7 8 9 10 11

12

13

Sanders, “From People to Public in the Iron Age Levant,” 200, speaks of a “political communication”. See e.g. Foucault, An Introduction. The History of Sexuality Vol. 1. Wolf, “Foucault’s Ethic of Power,” 16. See Foucault, Power / Knowledge, 52: “It is not possible for power to be exercised without knowledge, it is impossible for knowledge not to engender power.” Foucault, Power / Knowledge, 98. Foucault, Power / Knowledge, 98. Linke, Das Charisma der Könige, 108: “Erfüllt ein König also die von ihm erwarteten militärischen Pflichten nicht und kann er im Kampf nicht siegen, wird das als Entzug der göttlichen Gunst gewertet, damit ist die Legitimierungsgrundlage dieses Herrschers verloren, ihm fehlt die charismatische Ausstrahlung, ein Grund für die Absetzung oder sogar Tötung eines Herrschers.” Stoebe, Das zweite Buch Samuelis, 252, assumes “ein festes Schema der Kriegstaten und Eroberungen.” See also Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 2, 117: “Es ist kaum zu bezweifeln, dass zwischen den beiden Aufzählungen eine literarische Abhängigkeit besteht – die Frage ist nur, in welcher Richtung.” Budde, Die Bücher Samuel, 104: “Das genaue Seitenstück zu unsrem Abschnitt bildet die Schlusszusammenfassung für Davids Regierung in II 8 […].” For a detailed comparison see Bezzel, Saul,

186

Sara Kipfer

First it is said that Saul or David respectively was king over Israel: 1 Sam 14:47a

‫וְ שָׁ אוּל ָלכַד הַ ְמּלוּכָה ﬠַל־יִ ְשׂ ָר ֵ ֑אל‬ Now Saul took (‫ )לכד‬the kingship over Israel [+ LXXBL (το) εργον (του βασιλευειν)].

2 Sam 8:15a

‫וַיִּ ְמ�� דָּ וִ ד ﬠַל־כָּל־יִ ְשׂ ָר ֵ ֑אל‬ And David was king over [all] Israel.

Second, both kings fought against the same enemies – at least if one agrees with the majority of commentators and follows the Septuagint and 1 Chr 18:11 reading in 2 Sam 8:12: Edom instead of Aram. 14 The order of enemies changes between the two passages, but the sequential pairings Moab // Ammonites and Philistine // Amalek are maintained. Moreover, David’s first and last enemy – Edom and Zobah – stand at the center of Saul’s report. 15 1 Sam 14:47–48 Moab, the Ammonites, Edom 16 Zobah, the Philistines, Amalek

2 Sam 8:12 Aram/Edom, Moab, the Ammonites the Philistines, Amalek, Zobah

Further, the texts come to a similar conclusion, namely that Saul fought with all (‫ )כֹּ ל‬his enemies and that David subdued all (‫ )כֹּ ל‬the nations. 1 Sam 14:47bα

‫וַיִּ לָּחֶ ם סָ ִביב ְבּכָל־אֹ יְ בָ יו‬ and he fought (‫ )לחם‬round about with all his enemies

2 Sam 8:11bß

‫ִמכָּל־הַ גּוֹיִ ם אֲשֶׁ ר כִּ בֵּ שׁ׃‬ from all the nations (LXX πόλις), that he subdued (‫ כבשׁ‬Piel)

And while Saul acted valiantly, David made himself a name – in both instances the term ‫ עשׂה‬is used. 17 58F

1 Sam 14:48aα and he acted valiantly

‫ַו ַיּﬠַשׂ ֔ ַחיִל‬

2 Sam 8:13aα and David made a name

‫ַו ַיּﬠַשׂ דָּ וִ ד שֵׁ֔ ם‬

Last but not least, it is all to the ruler’s glory: wherever Saul turned he was saved – following the Septuagint I am reconstructing here ‫( ִי ָוּשֵׁ ַﬠ‬Nifal). 18 And for David it is said that Yhwh saved him. In both instances the root ‫ ישׁע‬is used.

14 15 16 17

18

144–147; Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 2, 116–122; Klein, David versus Saul, 95–98; 140–146. See e.g. Klein, David versus Saul, 96. See Auld, I & II Samuel, 166. The Septuagint adds καὶ εἰς τὸν Βαιθεωρ, “and with Baitheor”. ‫ ַו ַיּﬠַשׂ חַ יִ ל‬could also mean that Saul established an army. However, a short look to other passages (Num 24:18; Deut 8:18; Ruth 4:11; Ps 60:14; 108:14; 118:15–16; Prov 31:29; see also Deut 11:4) mentioning the words ‫ עשׂה‬and ‫ חַ יִ ל‬leads rather to the conclusion that the meaning here is to “act valiantly”. See Auld, I & II Samuel, 166. See Gesenius, Hebräisches und aramäisches Handwörterbuch, 510, and Barthélemy, Critique textuelle de l’Ancien Testament, 187. Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 2, 114, concludes: “So mit den meisten Auslegern nach G, wo sich in der Verbform ἐσῴζετο das hebräische Verb ‫ ישׁע‬spiegelt: vermutlich im Nif. (‫יִ ָוּשַׁ ע‬, ‘erfuhr er Rettung / Hilfe’), möglicherweise aber auch im Hif. (‫יושיע‬, ‘brachte er Rettung/Hilfe’. Das ‫‘( ירשׁיע‬er machte sich schuldig’) in M ist eine zu einem unbekannten Zeitpunkt eingebrachte Verunglimpfung Sauls.” See also McCarter, I Samuel, 254: “[…] this corruption seems tendentious […], but the letters w and r were especially liable to confusion in scripts of

Conquering all the Enemies 1 Sam 14:47bß

‫וּבכֹ ל אֲשֶׁ ר־יִפְ נֶה י ְַר ִשׁיﬠַ׃‬ ְ And wherever he turned, he would be saved (LXX ἐσῴζετο = ‫יִ וָּשֵׁ ַﬠ‬, ‫ ישׁע‬Nifal).

187 2 Sam 8:14b And Yhwh saved (‫ )ישׁע‬David wherever he went.

‫וַיּוֹשַׁ ע יְ הוָה אֶ ת־דָּ ִ֔וד‬ ‫ְבּכֹ ל אֲשֶׁ ר הָ לָ�׃‬

The explanation for these similarities is still highly debated. It has been argued by Stoebe (1973), 19 Stolz (1981), 20 and Bezzel (2015), 21 that the list of Saul’s wars was written in analogy to the wars of David. In contrast, Dietrich (2015) claimed that the praise of Saul was later added to the story of David. 22 Finally it has been estimated that both lists were the product of the same author – see Eißfeldt (1931), 23 and Klein (2002) 24 – or dtr redactor – see Veijola (1975; 1977), 25 and Kaiser (2010). 26 The content and style of both passages summarizing Saul’s and David’s decisive victories is similar. However, the difference in vocabulary should not be overlooked: Saul took (‫ )לכד‬the kingship over Israel, while David “was king” (‫)מלך‬. Saul fought (‫ )לחם‬against his enemies, while David subdued (‫ כבשׁ‬Piel) all nations. Saul acted valiantly (‫ ) ַו ַיּ ַﬠשׂ חַ יִל‬while David made himself a name ( ‫ַו ַיּ ַﬠשׂ דָּ וִ ד‬ ‫)שֵׁ ם‬, etc. While in 1 Sam 14:47–48 Saul’s wars stand in the center, 2 Sam 8:11–12, 15* focuses rather on the spoil (‫ שָׁ לָל‬2 Sam 8:12) David took. All-in-all the arguments for literary dependency in either direction are therefore rather marginal. In recent years scholars have attempted not only to focus on the similarities between these two passages, but also to find explanations for the differences between them. Bezzel has argued, for example, that a parallel – but at the same

19

20

21

22

23 24 25

26

the third and early second centuries B.C.” See also Klein, David versus Saul, 97–98, and McCarter, II Samuel, 246. Stoebe, Das erste Buch Samuelis, 277: “Wenn solche Überlegungen wohl vor zu schnellen Pauschalurteilen warnen können, liegt doch immer angesichts der sonstigen Überlieferung von Saul die Annahme nahe, daß hier die Vita Sauls nach der Vita Davids aufgefüllt wurde, eben weil man wie bei der Einleitungsformel nicht über genügend sichere Nachrichten verfügte.” Stolz, Das erste und zweite Buch Samuel, 96–97: “Nun ist von David eine ganz ähnliche Liste erhalten (2.Sam. 8), und es ist wahrscheinlich daß die Aufzählung der Taten Davids, auf die hier vorhandene Liste eingewirkt hat.” Bezzel, “Saul und die Philister,” 458: “Ähnlich, wenn auch weniger konsensuel beurteilt, ist es um die Erwähnung in 1Sam 14,47 bestellt: Die Völkerliste dürfte hier von David in 2Sam 8:12 übernommen worden sein.” Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 2, 117: “Dafür spricht schon die politisch-traditionsgeschichtliche Wahrscheinlichkeit: In aller Regel ziehen die ›größeren‹ Gestalten Geschichten von ›kleineren‹ an.” According to Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 3, 709, 2 Sam 8:1aα; 6aβb.11f. 14aβb belongs to the so-called “Höfische Erzähler”, the “Narrative History of the Early Monarchy”, which he dates to the late 8th century. At this point Walter Dietrich does not refer back to 1 Sam 14:47–48 any more. Vgl. Eißfeldt, Die Komposition der Samuelisbücher, 11. Klein, David versus Saul, 141–146, attributes them to the “Verfasser der Vergleiche”. 1 Sam 14:47–51 and 2 Sam 8:14–15b are according to Veijola, Die ewige Dynastie, 97, part of the redation of DtrG. Veijola, Das Königtum, 80, argued for a deuteronomistic redaction (DtrG) of 1 Sam 14:48b because of the similarities with Judg 2:14–16. Van Seters, The Biblical Saga of King David, 230–233, speaks of a “later fictitious composition”. Kaiser, “Der historische und der biblische König Saul (Teil II),” 6, sees in 1 Sam 14:47–51 a “Sek.dtr. Schlussbemerkung”.

188

Sara Kipfer

time surpassing – equivalent should have been composed for David. 27 Similarly, Klein has suggested that the variations between the two passages were designed intentionally to stress David’s superiority over his predecessor. 28 But is this argument convincing enough to prove that a later redactor 29 composed both of these two texts – with their similarities and differences – to provide a link between Saul and David? As Campbell has noted, it is difficult to imagine “what circles might have been responsible for modeling reports of Saul on those of David”, since the “picture provided runs counter all we know of Saul’s kingdom”. 30 A closer look at the literary context of 1 Sam 14:47–48 and 2 Sam 8:11–12, 15* rather leads to the assumption that we have here two (fragments of) independently created sources. Both texts fit well into their context, but also contain tensions and disruptions.

27

28

29

30

Bezzel, Saul, 146: “All dies deutet stark darauf hin, daß sich die erste Fassung von II Sam 8 bereits auf I Sam 14,47–51 in einer Grundform bezog, um ein paralleles und zugleich überbietendes Äquivalent für David zu schaffen.” See e.g. Klein, David versus Saul, 98: “David weist gegenüber Saul ein Plus auf. Ihm gelingt es, im Gegenüber zu Saul zusätzlich Gerechtigkeit zu schaffen und sich der Gottesnähe zu vergewissern, indem er einen Teil der Beute Gott weiht.” Similarly, also Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 2, 118: “Und während Saul gegen sie (lediglich) ›Krieg führte‹, hat David sie besiegt und aus der Beute Jhwh bedacht. So übertrifft er seinen Vorgänger. Das unterstreichen auch zwei kleine Abweichungen zwischen beiden Stellen: Errang Saul (lediglich) das ›Königtum über Israel‹ (1Sam 14,47), so war David ›König über ganz Israel‹ (2Sam 8,15). Und ›half Jhwh David überall, wohin er ging‹ (2Sam 8,14), so ›machte Saul sich schuldig, wohin er sich wandte‹ (1Sam 14,47M).” 1 Sam 14:47bα and 48aβb have typically been seen as part of the deuteronomistic redaction. Bezzel, Saul, 255, considers V. 47bα1.48aβ.b as deuteronomistic. 1 Sam 14:47bα has been seen as a dtr addition, because it says that Saul fought round about with all his enemies using the words ‫ אֹ יֵב‬and ‫סָ ִביב‬. See e.g. Veijola, Das Königtum, 79–80, and Bezzel, Saul, 147. It is however important to note that the word order is reversed. Saul is fighting round about ‫ סָ ִביב‬+ ‫( אֹ יֵב‬see also 2 Sam 7:1), but not the “enemies all around” ‫ אֹ יֵב‬+ ‫( סָ ִביב‬see Deut 12:10; 25:19; Jos 23,1; Judg 2:14; Judg 8:34; 1 Sam 12:11; 1 Chr 22:9; Ps 27:6). See Wonneberger, Redaktion, 189. It has further been argued that the formulation of Saul delivering Israel from the hand of its plunderer in 1 Sam 48aβb is clearly deuteronomistic. Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 2, 119, concludes: “Die literarhistorische Zuweisung von 48aβ hängt also davon ab, wann 1 Sam 15 an seinen jetzigen Platz gelangte. Wahrscheinlich geschah dies, wie an Ort und Stelle zu zeigen sein wird, im Rahmen der dtr Redaktion. Dazu passt, dass 48b eine recht klar dtr Sprache spricht. Bemerkenswert ist das positive Saul-Bild an dieser Stelle; der erste König Israels wird in die Reihe der ›Retter‹ Israels eingeordnet.” And indeed: ‫ נצל‬Hifil is a frequently used dtr term. Nevertheless, to rescue someone from the hands of an enemy or of different kinds of dangers is not an exclusively dtr expression. It occurs around 60 times in the Hebrew Bible. See ‫ נצל‬+ ‫ יד‬in Gen 32:12; 37:21, 22; Ex 2:19; 3:8; 18:9, 10; Num 35:25; Deut 25:11; 32:39; Jos 9:26; 22:31; 24:10; Judg 6:9; 8:34; 9:17; 1 Sam 4:8; 7:3, 14; 10:18; 12:10, 11; 14:48; 17:37; 2 Sam 12:7; 2 Kgs 17:39; 18:29, 30, 33, 34, 35; 2 Chr 25:15; 32:13, 14, 15, 17; Ezra 8:31; Job 10:7; Ps 18:1; 22:21; 31:16; 82:4; 97:10; 144:7; 11; Prov 6:5; Isa 36:15, 18, 19, 20; 34:13; Jer 15:21; 20:30; 21:12; 22:3; 42:11; Ezek 13:21, 23; 34:27; Dan 8:4, 7; Hos 2:12; Zech 11:6. Campbell, 1 Samuel, 148.

Conquering all the Enemies

189

At a first glance 1 Sam 14:47–48 looks like a summarizing conclusion of the Saul story, but at a closer look this proves to be inadequate. 31 In the Saul tradition Saul only fights against the Ammonites (1 Sam 11), the Philistines (1 Sam 13–14) and the Amalekites (1 Sam 15), but any hint of wars against Moab, Edom and Zobah is missing. Further, the war against the Philistines is not settled at all. In 1 Sam 14:52 it is said that the battle against the Philistines was fierce in those days and Saul gathered his soldiers for war again ( ‫ו ְַתּהִ י הַ ִמּלְ חָ מָ ה ֲחזָקָ ה ﬠַל־פְּ לִ ְשׁ ֔ ִתּים כֹּ ל‬ ‫ן־חיִל ַויַּאַ ְספֵהוּ אֵ לָיו׃‬ ַ ֔ ֶ‫ָל־אישׁ גִּ בּוֹר וְ כָל־בּ‬ ִ ‫)יְמֵ י שָׁ ֑אוּל וְ ָראָ ה שָׁ אוּל כּ‬. Similarly, 2 Sam 8:12 has often been seen as a summary or short version of 2 Sam 8:1–10. 32 And indeed, three of the aforementioned nations are revealed again in 2 Sam 8:12: the Philistines, the Moabites and Hadadezer, King of Zobah. However, as a summary 2 Sam 8:12 is rather incomplete: first, no campaign against Ammon has yet been reported – that will only follow in 2 Sam 10. 33 Further, the Amalekites – the “archetypal plunderers” 34 – are only mentioned in the Story of David’s Rise, when he serves as a mercenary for Achish, king of Gath (1 Sam 27:8; 31:1). They are entirely out of sight during David’s kingship. Finally, a note about David’s campaign against the Edomites comes only after 2 Sam 8:12. In 2 Sam 8:13–14 we find some extra information that David defeated eighteen thousand Edomites and left garrisons. 35 To conclude, 2 Sam 8:12 both recapitulates some of the wars mentioned in 2 Sam 8:1–10 and at the same time incorporates other wars mentioned in earlier and later parts of the David story. 36 While 1 Sam 14:47–48 is complete in itself (beginning with ‫ וְ שָׁ אוּל‬in V. 47 and ending with a concluding remark that Saul rescued Israel), 37 2 Sam 8:11–12, 15* clearly is not, and remains “fragmentary”. It begins in 2 Sam 8:11 with ‫גַּם־אֹ תָ ם‬ and is thus related to the previous verse. However, it is not only unclear where 31

32 33 34

35

36 37

Veijola, Das Königtum, 79–81, speaks of a “Summarium”. See also Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 2, 120, who specifies “Saul-Summarium”. Bezzel, “Saul und die Philister,” 457, calls it a “Resümee über Sauls Herrschaft”. Stoebe, Das erste Buch Samuelis, 275, sees it as “Ergänzende Angaben zum Leben Sauls”. See also Wonneberger, Redaktion, 189. Klein, David versus Saul, 140, sees not only in 1 Sam 14:47–48 but also in 2 Sam 8:11–15 “rückblickende[n] Summarien”. See Auld, I & II Samuel, 430, and Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 3, 711–713. McCarter, I Samuel, 256. The word ‫שׁסה‬, “to plunder”, is however nowhere else used together with the Amalekites. The verb ‫ שׁסה‬is used in Judg 2:14, 16 and 1 Sam 14:48 and others (e.g. 1 Sam 23:1). It has therefore been suggested that it is also dtr language. See Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 2, 119. See Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 3, 705. See also Edenburg, “David, the Great King, King of the Four Quarters,” 163: “The basic framework of the catalog is a series of four conquest notices corresponding to the four compass points. The first three notices follow one another and open in the same fashion: David defeated [x] with [x] representing the Philistines, Moab, and Hadadezer of Zobah, respectively (2 Sam 8:1–3, 1 Chr 18:1–3). However, the fourth notice (2 Sam 8:13–14, 1 Chr 18:12–13) breaks the pattern of the standard opening. Instead of the expected formulation, ‘David defeated Edom,’ we find something entirely different in both Samuel and Chronicles.” See Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 2, 118: “So wirken die Angaben dieser Liste im Kontext von 2Sam 8 einerseits wie Dubletten, andererseits wie eine Auffüllung.” See 1 Sam 14:48: “And he delivered (‫ )נצל‬Israel from the hand of their plunderer” LXX καταπατούντων and 4QSama frg. 6 ‫ ]ש[סיו‬read Pl. “plunderers”.

190

Sara Kipfer

the fragment starts, but also where it ends: it is debatable whether the victory over the Edomites in V. 13–14 really belongs to 2 Sam 8:12 or instead to the notes concerning David’s war in 2 Sam 8:1–10*. Finally, the concluding note in V. 15 stating that David administered justice and equity to all his people ( ‫ַויְהִ י דָ ִ֗וד עֹ שֶׂ ה‬ ‫ ִמ ְשׁ ָפּט וּצְ דָ קָ ה לְ כָל־ﬠַמּוֹ‬V. 15b) could also function as an introduction, providing the information that David ruled over all Israel ( ‫ ַו ִיּ ְמ�� דָּ וִ ד ﬠַל־כָּל־ ִי ְשׂ ָר ֵ ֑אל‬V. 15a). As the further discussion will show, we have three independent although fragmentary lists: one in 1 Sam 14:47–48; a second one in 2 Sam 8:11*–12, 15* and a third and more elaborate one in 2 Sam 8:1–11*, 13–14. In the following I will not concentrate on the literary dependencies, but instead present some typical ancient Near Eastern motifs which demonstrate that what we have here is foremost a communication of power against enemies in the West, East, South and North. Saul and David are presented not as rivals in this case, but rather independently as successful ancient Near Eastern kings.

3.

Communicating Power in the Ancient Near East – A Comparison

Mesopotamian scribes produced descriptions of individual events in a wide variety of versions, long and short, and in innumerable combinations with one another. 38 For this reason we often find multiple descriptions of a particular event that contradict one another, as Cogan has pointed out. 39 Most interesting for our purposes here is the fact that these descriptions frequently consist of motifs that are similar to those we know from the books of Samuel. 40 Royal inscriptions from the Neo-Assyrian period consist of elements such as: the name of the ruler and his official titles; the name of the enemy or the land (sometimes followed by a derogatory epithet); the reason for the campaign (e.g., breaking the treaty, refusal to pay tribute); a prayer and plea for divine help; a description of the annihilation of the adversary, the taking of booty and the deportation of captives, the destruction of the hostile city, and finally, an account of the tribute delivered by the conquered king, including possibly the

38 39 40

See Renger, “Neuassyrische Königsinschriften als Genre der Keilschriftliteratur,” 123–124. Cogan, The Raging Torrent, 2. See Fischer, “Die literarische Entstehung des Großreichs,” 113–117. He concludes: “Man darf deshalb annehmen, daß die biblischen Verfasser, als sie die Siege Davids verzeichneten, eben solche Kriegsberichte nach Form und Inhalt vor Augen hatten. Daraus folgt unsere These: Die biblischen Tradenten haben die Kriegs-Chronik in 2Sam 8,2–10 nach dem literarischen Modell neuassyrischer Kommemorativinschriften formuliert” (117).

Conquering all the Enemies

191

integration of captured chariotry into the Assyrian army and the conversion of the territory into an Assyrian province. 41 The similarities with the lists in the books of Samuel lie at hand. In the following some of these patterns will be discussed and compared with the lists in the books of Samuel. a) name of the conquered people Neither Saul nor David needs to be introduced any more. 42 The notes instead directly start with a list of the names of the enemy; introduced in 1 Sam 14:47 with ְ‫בּ‬, in 2 Sam 8:12 with ‫מן‬.ִ In longer versions the verb ‫ נכה‬Hifil is followed by the name of the conquered people. 43 614F

1 Sam 14:48bα and he stuck Amalek 44 2 Sam 8:1aß and David stuck down Philistines and subdued them 2 Sam 8:2aα and he struck down Moab

‫ַויַּ� אֶ ת־ﬠֲמָ לֵ ֑ק‬ ‫ַויַּ� דָּ וִ ד אֶ ת־פְּ לִ ְשׁ ִתּים ַויַּכְ נִ יﬠֵ ֑ם‬ ‫ַויַּ� אֶ ת־מוֹאָ ב‬

2 Sam 8:3a and David struck down Hadadezer, son of Rehob, king of Zobah ‫צוֹב֑ה‬ ָ �ֶ‫ן־רחֹ ב ֶ ֣מל‬ ְ ֶ‫ַויַּ� דָּ ִ֔וד אֶ ת־הֲדַ ְד ֶﬠזֶר בּ‬

b) casualties and body count Sometimes these notes are directly followed by the number of the casualties, the so-called “body count”. 2 Sam 8:5b and David struck down in Aram twenty-two thousand men ‫רים־וּשׁנַיִ ם אֶ לֶף ִאישׁ׃‬ ְ ‫ַויַּ� דָּ וִ ד בַּ א ָ ֲ֔רם ﬠ ְֶשׂ‬

In some cases we find even more elaborate versions: 45

41

42 43

44 45

See Renger, “Königsinschriften. B. Akkadisch,” 76, and Renger, “Neuassyrische Königsinschriften als Genre der Keilschriftliteratur,” 110–113. There are deviations from the ideal type in the time of Sargon II and Esarhaddon. See Renger, “Aspekte von Kontinuität und Diskontinuität in den assyrischen Königsinschriften,” 173: “Verschiedene Stelen aus der ersten Hälfte des 8. Jh.s (Phase der ‚Verunsicherung‘) zeigen Abweichungen und Brüche mit dem Idealtypus.” See also Younger, Ancient Conquest Accounts, 70–124. This is an important difference; see the discussion below. 1 Sam 14:47 contains the typical construction of ‫ נכה‬Hifil, which also occurs four times in 2 Sam 8 to describe the striking down of enemies with David as subject ([‫ ַויַּ� ]דָּ וִ ד‬V. 1; 2; 3; 5; see further ‫ כִּ י הִ כָּה דָ וִ ד‬V. 9; ‫ ַו ַיּכֵּהוּ‬V. 10; ‫ מֵ הַ כּוֹתוֹ‬V. 13). See also 1Sam 15:7 “and Saul defeated the Amalekites, from Havilah to (lit., as you come to) Shur, which is east of Egypt” ‫ ַויַּ� שָׁ אוּל אֶ ת־ﬠֲמָ לֵ ֑ק מֵ חֲוִ ילָה בּוֹאֲ� ֔שׁוּר אֲשֶׁ ר ﬠַל־פְּ נֵי ִמצְ ָריִ ם׃‬. See also the numbers in 2 Sam 10:18 “and David slaughtered of Aram seven hundred charioteers and forty thousand horsemen” ‫ ַו ַיּהֲרֹ ג דָּ וִ ד מֵ א ֲָרם ְשׁבַ ע מֵ אוֹת ֶ ֔רכֶב וְ אַ ְרבָּ ﬠִ ים אֶ לֶף פּ ָָר ִשׁים‬.

192

Sara Kipfer 2 Sam 8:4a And David captured (‫ )לכד‬from him one thousand chariots and seven thousand horsemen and twenty thousand men of foot (χίλια ἅρματα καὶ ἑπτὰ χιλιάδας ἱππέων καὶ εἴκοσι ‫וּשׁבַ ע־מֵ אוֹת פּ ָָר ֔ ִשׁים וְ ﬠ ְֶשׂ ִרים אֶ לֶף ִאישׁ ַרגְ ִ ֑לי‬ ְ ‫וַיִּ לְ כֹּ ד דָּ וִ ד ִממֶּ נּוּ אֶ לֶף‬ χιλιάδας ἀνδρῶν πεζῶν) 46 2 Sam 8:13 …on his return from striking Edom in the Valley of Salt (LXX καὶ ἐν τῷ ἀνακάμπτειν αὐτὸν ἐπάταξεν τὴν Ιδουμαίαν ἐν Γαιμελε), 47 eighteen thousand. ‫ֵיא־מלַח‬ ֑ ֶ ‫ְבּשֻׁ בוֹ מֵ הַ כּוֹתוֹ אֶ ת־א ֲָרם ְבּג‬ ‫ְשׁמוֹנָה ﬠָשָׂ ר אָ לֶף׃‬

The numbers are clearly exaggerated, but compared with other ancient Near Eastern texts they fit the pattern quite well. For example, according to the Mesha Inscription, Mesha killed seven thousand people. The Tel Dan Stele is unfortunately not very clear at this point, but the reconstruction suggests that we also have a fixed number here. Shalmaneser III killed between 14,000 and 25,000 fighting men. 48 Mesha Inscription KAI 181:16–17* and I took it and I killed all of it – seven thousand men, boys / alien resident, 49 woman, girls / alien resident and maid-servants for I devoted it to aštr-kmš [‫ וג֯ ]ר‬. ‫ וגברת‬. ֯‫ וג֯ ֯רן‬. ֯‫[ ג]ב[ ֯רן‬.] ֯‫ אלףן‬. ‫ שבעת‬. [‫ כל]ה‬. ‫ ואהרג‬. ‫( זה‬16)‫ואח‬ ‫ החרמתה‬. ‫ כמש‬. ‫ לעשתר‬. ‫(ת ורחמת כי‬17) Tel Dan Stele KAI 310:6–7* and I killed [seve]nty kin[gs], who harnessed th[ousands of cha]riots and thousands of horsemen (or: horses) ‫ פרש‬. ‫ ואלפי‬. ‫( כב‬7) [‫ ר‬. ‫ א]לפי‬. ‫ ֯אסרי‬. ‫ שב[ ֯ען‬. ‫מל]כן‬ ֯ . ‫ואקתל‬ Shalmaneser III A.0.102.2.6 col. ii,31–32 50 I fought with them. I put to the sword 25,000 of their fighting men (and) captured from them their chariotry, cavalry, (and) military equipment. Shalmaneser III A.0.102.2.6 col. ii,95 I felled with the sword 14,000 troops, their fighting men

c) resistance from hostile coalitions The mentions of coalitions against whom the Assyrian king had to fight are also frequent. 51 Shalmaneser III faced resistance from the Aramean polities he attacked, as did David in 2 Sam 8:5. It is striking that in both cases the name 46 47 48 49

50 51

See McCarter, II Samuel, 244, referring to 4QSama frg. 80–83 and 1 Chr 18:4. See also Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 3, 700. See McCarter, II Samuel, 246, and Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 3, 701–702. See also Fouts,” Another Look at Large Numbers in Assyrian Royal Inscription,” 205–211. The restored words ֯‫( ג֯ ֯רן‬masc. Pl. abs.) and [‫( גר]ת‬feminine. Pl. abs.) are of uncertain interpretation. It is however likely that they should be considered as indicators of foreigners / alien residents (or at least non-citizens) (‫ )גר‬who were also killed in the cities (along with the citizens). See Hoftijzer, and Jongeling, Dictionary of the North-West Semitic Inscriptions, 232. All Neo-Assyrian translations are modified from Grayson, Assyrian Rulers of the Early First Millennium BC II (858–745 BC). See also the Zakkur Inscription, KAI 202:4–8.

Conquering all the Enemies

193

Adad-idri – Hebrew Hadadezer (‫ – )הֲדַ ְד ֶﬠזֶר‬is mentioned. In the inscriptions of Shalmaneser III, however, this name indicates the king of Damascus, whereas it is the name of the king of Zobah in 2 Sam 8:5. 52 623F

2 Sam 8:5a And Aram of Damascus came to help Hadadezer king of Zobah ‫צוֹב֑ה‬ ָ �ֶ‫ַותָּ ב ֹא א ֲַרם דַּ ֔ ֶמּשֶׂ ק לַﬠְ זֹר ַלהֲדַ ְד ֶﬠזֶר מֶ ל‬ Shalmaneser III A.0.102.2.6 col. ii,27–30 Adad-idri, the Damascene, (and) Irḫulēnu, the Ḫamatite, together with twelve kings on the shore of the sea, trusting in their united forces, (ii 30) attacked me to wage war and battle.

d) taking away the booty According to 2 Sam 8:7–8 – a text critically very corrupted text 53 – David brings the booty to Jerusalem (see also Mesha Inscription, KAI 181:12–13*). The Assyrian kings did the same, taking booty from the conquered people and bringing it to Aššur. 2 Sam 8:7–8 And David took the shields of gold, which were carried by the servants of Hadadezer, and brought them to Jerusalem. ‫וַיִּ ַ ֣קּח דָּ וִ ד אֵ֚ ת ִשׁלְ טֵ י הַ זּ ֔ ָָהב אֲשֶׁ ר הָ י֔ וּ אֶ ל ﬠ ְַבדֵ י הֲדַ ְדﬠָ ֑ זֶר ַויְ ִביאֵ ם יְרוּשָׁ ָל ִם׃‬ From Betah and from Berothai, 54 towns of Hadadezer, King David took a great amount of bronze. ‫וּמבֵּ רֹ ַ ֖תי ﬠ ֵָרי הֲדַ ְדﬠָ ֑ זֶר לָקַח הַ מֶּ ֶל� דָּ וִ ד נְ חֹשֶׁ ת הַ ְרבֵּ ה ְמאֹ ד׃‬ ִ ‫וּמבֶּ טַ ח‬ ִ Shalmaneser III A.0.102.2 II,81a I carried off his possessions (and) property (and) brought (them) to my city, Aššur.

Shields of gold (‫)שׁלְ טֵ י הַ זָּהָ ב‬ ִ and bronze (‫ ) ְנחֹ שֶׁ ת‬were typical booty also in Assyrian texts: Ashurnasirpal II A.O. 101.1 i, 78–79 On my march, I received the plenteous tribute of Samanuha-šar-ilāni, a man of the city Sadikannu, (and) of Amīl-Adad, a man of the city Qatnu – silver, gold, tin, bronze vessels, garments with multi-coloured trim, (and) linen garments.

52

53 54

The name Adad-idri is well known as Hadadezer ‫ הֲדַ ְד ֶﬠזֶר‬from 2 Sam 8:3 (MT), 7, 8, 9, 10bis, 12. See also 2 Sam 10:16bis, 19 and 1 Kgs 11:23; further 1 Chr 18:3 (MT), 5, 7, 8, 9, 10bis; 19:16, 19. Obviously there were two kings with the same name, which is not unusual. It is surprising however, that the two kings did not belong to the same political units. Twice in the biblical text the addition “son of Rehob” or “Rehobite” is mentioned (2 Sam 8:3, 12; for the discussion whether bæn rəḥob should be understood as patronym or gentilicium see Younger, A Political History of the Arameans, 200. See also Finkelstein, “Israel and Aram,” 31–32, Na’aman, “Hazael of ‘Amqi and Hadadezer of Beth-rehob,” 381–394, and Na’aman, “In Search of Reality Behind the Account of David’s Wars with Israel’s Neighbours,” 207–210. For more information about the text critical additions see Edenburg, “David, the Great King, King of the Four Quarters,” 167–169, and Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 3, 700–701. For text-critical considerations as well as the localization see Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 3, 700–701, 730.

194

Sara Kipfer

Chariot horses comprised another very frequently mentioned object of plunder. Capturing enemy chariot horses was a great advantage, since they were already trained, experienced in battle, and could be integrated into the army. 55 In the case of David, however, he disabled some of the chariots instead, 56 keeping only one hundred of them (2 Sam 8:4). 2 Sam 8:4, and similarly 2 Sam 8:10, where David killed seven hundred of the Arameans chariot teams and forty thousand horsemen (‫)פּ ָָרשׁ‬, reflects the situation, where Judah did not have an army of chariots. At that time hostile horses were not a recognized booty, but rather a useless burden in the hill country. 57 e) consecration of the booty Not only is taking the booty to the capital part of the typical pattern, but also consecrating it to a god. King Mesha brought his plunder before Kemosh, Shalmaneser III dedicated it before Adad, and David consecrated it to Yhwh. 58 2 Sam 8:11a these too King David consecrated to Yhwh

‫גַּם־אֹ תָ ם הִ קְ ִדּישׁ הַ מֶּ ֶל� דָּ וִ ד לַיהוָ ֑ה‬

Mesha Inscription KAI 181:17–18* I took from there the […] of Yhwh, dragging them before Kmš ‫ כמש‬. ‫ לפני‬. ‫ הם‬. ‫ ואסב‬. ‫ יהוה‬. ‫( לי‬18)[…]‫ א‬. ‫ משם‬. ‫ואקח‬ Shalmaneser III A.0.102.2 ii,86b–89a I received their tribute of silver (and) gold (and) made sacrifices before the god Adad of Aleppo (Ḫalman).

f) slaves and tributes from the conquered people Twice it is said that the conquered people became David’s slaves, bringing tribute. In 2 Sam 8:2b 59 it is Moab, in 2 Sam 8:6aβ it is Aram. 2 Sam 8:14aβ states only that the Edomites became David’s slaves, without mentioning their tribute. 55 56

57

58

59

Cantrell, The Horsemen of Israel, 41–42. In Josh 11:6, 9 it is also said that horses (‫ )סוּס‬were “disabled” (‫ עקר‬Piel). Zwickel, “Lähmen oder in Besitz nehmen?,” 27, assumes: “Sehr viel wahrscheinlicher ist jedoch, dass es ich um eine Kriegstaktik handelte, die aus einer Zeit stammt, als man selbst in Israel und Juda noch keine Streitwagen besaß und die gut trainierten und daher sehr wertvollen Pferde noch nicht in das eigene Heer eingliedern konnte.” See Halpern, David’s Secret Demons, 138f. Horses became common in Judah only in later times (see however 1 Kgs 9:19; 10:26; 16:9), whereas in Israel they were used in war from the 9th century BCE onward, as the Kurkh Monolith (Shalmaneser III A.0.102.2, 90–91; see also 1 Kgs 20:21–34) seems to prove. Stamp seal impressions strengthen the possibility of a difference between Israel and Judah: Images of kings on chariots are only known in the northern kingdom from Iron Age IIB (ca. 900–700 BCE). See Schmitt, Bildhafte Herrschaftsrepräsentation im eisenzeitlichen Israel, 114–116. The consecration of the booty to Yhwh was often considered as “anachronistic”. See Stoebe, Das zweite Buch Samuelis, 251; Fischer, “Die literarische Entstehung des Großreichs,” 107; Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 3, 733. 2 Sam 8:2aβ further explains how David treated the conquered territory: “And he measured them by line” (‫ )וַיְמַ ְדּדֵ ם בַּ חֶ בֶ ל‬does not necessarily refer to the Moabite captives. ‫ מדד‬is identical with the Akkadian word madādu, which is used to measure barley, dates, etc., but also territo-

Conquering all the Enemies 2 Sam 8:2b 2 Sam 8:6aβ 2 Sam 8:14aβ

195 ‫ו ְַתּהִ י מוֹאָ ב לְ דָ ִ֔וד ַלﬠֲבָ ִדים נֹ ְשׂאֵ י ִמנְ חָ ה‬ ‫נוֹשׂאֵ י ִמנְ ָח֑ה‬ ְ ‫ו ְַתּהִ י א ֲָרם לְ דָ ִ֔וד ַלﬠֲבָ ִדים‬ ‫וַיְהִ י כָל־אֱדוֹם ﬠֲבָ ִדים לְ דָ ִו֑ד‬

The general term used for “tribute” is ‫מ ְנחָ ה‬.ִ The tribute is specified as “vessels of silver and vessels of gold and vessels of bronze” in 2 Sam 8:10b ( ‫וּבְ יָדוֹ הָ י֛ וּ כְּ לֵי־כֶסֶ ף‬ ‫)וּכְ לֵי־זָהָ ב וּכְ לֵי ְנחֹ שֶׁ ת‬. Receiving tribute from a conquered region is very common in Assyrian texts as well: Adad-nārārī II A.0.99.2, 32–33 I (who) took hostages from them (and) imposed upon them tribute and tax… Shalmaneser III A.0.102.6 2, 24"–25" At that time I received (25") tribute from the people of Tyre (and) Sidon (and) from Jehu (Iaua) of the house of Omri (Humrî). Adad-nārāri III A.0.104.9, 8 He received the tribute of Joash (Iu’asu), the Samaritan, (and) of the people of Tyre (and) Sidon.

g) converting the territory into a province According to 2 Sam 8:14, David also set governors (‫ ) ְנצִ יב‬in Edom. This is a typical Assyrian strategy, which can be found as early as the middle Assyrian period (bēl āli or rab ālāni). 60 631F

2 Sam 8:6aα then David placed governors in Aram Damascus

‫ַויָּשֶׂ ם דָּ וִ ד נְ צִ ִבים בַּ א ֲַרם דַּ ֔ ֶמּשֶׂ ק‬

2 Sam 8:14a And he set in Edom a governor (LXX φρουράν Sg.); in all Edom he set governors. ‫ַויָּשֶׂ ם בֶּ אֱדוֹם נְ צִ ִבים ְבּכָל־אֱדוֹם שָׂ ם נְ צִ ִ֔בים‬ Shalmaneser III A.0.102.6 iv, 37–39 In the lands and mountains over which I gained dominion I appointed governors everywhere and imposed upon them tax, tribute, (and) corvée.

h) help of the deity Last but not least, the theological aspect also plays an important role. Twice we learn that Yhwh helps David in 2 Sam 8 (2 Sam 8:6, 14b). 61 In the case of the

60 61

ries. The word ‫ חֶ בֶ ל‬contains this lexical range of meaning and could also refer to a territory or region as Deut 3:4, 13–14; 1 Kgs 4:13; Zeph 2:5, 6 demonstrates. This leads to the conclusion that David measured the land, and that V. 2aα*β (which is missing in 1 Chr 18:2), then is a secondary explanation. If this assumption is correct and David is measuring the land, then it is no longer necessary to explain the apparent contradiction that David first killed one third of the people and only afterwards requested tribute of them. Bagg, Die Assyrer und das Westland, 189–190. See also 2 Sam 5:20, 24. For Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 3, 709, V. 6b and V. 14a* are clearly redactional: “Gerade diese – insgesamt sekundäre Passage in *14a nun wird durch den theologisch schwergewichtigen Satz von ›Jhwhs Hilfe‹ für David abgeschlossen. Man geht kaum fehl damit,

196

Sara Kipfer

Assyrian kings, it is primarily Adad who is mentioned to help them gain victory in war. 2 Sam 8:6b And Yhwh saved David, wherever he went.

‫וַיֹּ שַׁ ע יְהוָה אֶ ת־דָּ ִ֔וד ְבּכֹ ל אֲשֶׁ ר הָ לָ�׃‬

2 Sam 8:14b And Yhwh saved David, wherever he went.

‫וַיּוֹשַׁ ע יְ הוָה אֶ ת־דָּ ִ֔וד ְבּכֹ ל אֲשֶׁ ר הָ לָ�׃‬

Ashurnasirpal II A.O. 101.1 i, 76–77 With the assistance of Aššur (and) the god Adad, the great gods who made my sovereignty supreme, I mustered my chariotry (and) troops (and) made my way to the banks of the River Habur.

In the Mesha inscription, we further learn that the God Kemosh commands king Mesha to conquer Nebo. Mesha Inscription KAI 181:14* 62 And Kmš said to me, “Go, take Nebo […].”

‫ נבה‬. ‫ את‬. ‫ אחז‬. ‫ לך‬. ‫ כמש‬. ‫ לי‬. ‫ויאמר‬

See also 2 Sam 5:25 And David did so, as Yhwh had commanded him; and he struck down the Philistines from Geba as far as Gezer. ‫ַו ַיּﬠַשׂ דָּ וִ ד ֵ֔כּן ַכּאֲשֶׁ ר צִ וָּהוּ יְ הוָ ֑ה ַויַּ� אֶ ת־פְּ לִ ְשׁ ִ֔תּים ִמגֶּבַ ע ַﬠד־בֹּ אֲ� ָגזֶר׃‬

i) the king’s name Finally, conquest is dedicated to the king’s glory. According to 2 Sam 8:13aα David “made a name” for himself (‫ ; ַו ַיּ ַﬠשׂ דָּ וִ ד שֵׁ֔ ם‬see also 2 Sam 8:3 where David or Hadadezer – the subject is not clear here – “went to set up his ‘hand’ at the river [Euphrates; 1 Chr 18:3]” ‫)בְּ לֶכְ תּוֹ לְ הָ ִשׁיב יָדוֹ בִּ נְהַ ר ]פְּ ָרת[׃‬. 63 Similarly Shalmaneser III established his name. 64 To make or set oneself a name means to vanquish the enemy and to take possession of a city or a territory (2 Sam 12:28) and setting up a monument (2 Sam 18:18). 65 This action, however, cannot be reduced to a victory celebration, but includes also a strategy of perpetuation and remembering. 66 634F

635F

63 F

637F

2 Sam 8:13a And David made a name 1 Chr 14:17a the name of David went out into all lands

62 63 64 65 66

‫ַו ַיּﬠַשׂ דָּ וִ ד‬ ‫ַויֵּצֵ א שֵׁ ם־דָּ וִ יד ְבּכָל־הָ א ֲָר ֑צוֹת‬

auch ihn der Redaktion zuzuschreiben. Von diesem Schluss des Textes fällt wiederum Licht auf drei frühere Passagen. Die Wendung von ›Jhwhs Hilfe‹ in 6b wird auf keine andere Hand zurückgehen als in 14b.” See Jackson, “The Language of the Mesha’ Inscription,” 98. The crossing of the Euphrates is a very common motif in Assyrian texts. For more examples of the the Akkadian šumam šakānum, “to set a name”, see Radner, Die Macht des Namens. See Wright, “Making a Name for Oneself,” 132. See Wright, “‘Human, All Too Human’: Royal Name-making in War-time,” 62–77. For a general overview see also Bührer, “‚Ich will mir einen Namen machen!,‘” 481–503.

Conquering all the Enemies

197

Shalmaneser III II A.0.102.2 ii,53 I made an image of my lordship which establishes my fame (lit. “name”) for eternity (and) erected (it) by the sea.

Despite the thematic and lexical similarities between these texts, there remain some differences as well. Both Saul and David are introduced by name (1 Sam 14:47a; 2 Sam 8:15a), but Saul is not presented with a title and the introduction of David as ‫ מלך‬over all Israel follows at the very end of the list. Further, it is not a “self-introduction”, 67 but an introduction in the 3rd person singular. Seth L. Sanders observes that the royal first-person public address is characteristic for the Mesopotamian-style, 68 while Daniel D. Pioske points to the Greek historiography (Thucydides, Herodotus), which is also (mainly) written in the 3rd person. 69 It is certainly “a remarkable feature of biblical narrative that it recounts a varied past inclusive of both royal and non-royal agents almost exclusively in the third person voice”, 70 although in the case of the analyzed texts, it is questionable in how far they contain “prose stories” and should not rather be seen as “chronicles” or “annals” simply “listing” factual or alleged events. 71 The deeds of Saul and David are not presented in their own voice, but they obtain presence as dominant agents: 72 no “pseudo-I” 73 is claiming his deeds here. Rather the victories are simply “reported”. Further, there are some typical elements of Assyrian documentary texts that are missing in the books of Samuel. One of the key elements that are missing is a note about the deportation of people from one place to another. Although this element is also included in the Mesha Inscription (see KAI 181:13–14* . ‫ בה‬. ‫ואשב‬ ‫( ֯מחרת‬14) ‫אש‬ ֯ . ‫ ואת‬. ‫ שרן‬. ‫ אש‬. ‫)את‬, there is no such parallel indication of captives’ movement in the biblical passages. Second, the biblical passages provide no explicit reasons for the campaigns, whether it be the fulfillment of a divine command (see Mesha Inscription KAI 181:14) or motivated by the disloyalty of the people. Even more importantly, chronological indications are missing in the bib638F

639F

640F

641F

642F

643F

67 68

69

70 71

72 73

64F

See e.g. the Mesha Inscription KAI 181,1–2* ‫(יבני‬2)‫ הד‬. ‫ מאב‬. ‫ כמש]ית[ מלך‬. ‫ בן‬. ‫ משע‬. ‫אנך‬, “I am Mesha, son of Kmš[yt], king of Moab, the Dibonite.” Sanders, The Invention of Hebrew, 119: “The claim to royal first-person public address was a claim to Mesopotamian-style privilege. This is why it appears in neither vernacular nor cosmopolitan language in the well-documented West-Semitic-speaking city-states of the Late Bronze Age.” See also Sanders, “From People to Public in the Iron Age Levant,” 200–201. See Pioske, Memory in the Time of Prose, 29–30, who claims that writing down prose stories about past events “is rather a specific development” (30). See also Machinist, “The Voice of the Historian in the Ancient Near Eastern and Mediterranean World,” 117–127. Pioske, Memory in the Time of Prose, 29. According to Machinist, “The Voice of the Historian in the Ancient Near Eastern and Mediterranean World,” 121, this could be one explanation for the missing “I”: “First, we have historywriting with no ‘I,’ that is, with no apparent presence of the historian who is doing history. This lack can be detected in a variety of texts that have come to be called ‘chronicles’ or ‘annals.’” 2 Sam 8:1–14 mentions the name of David eighteen times, mostly as subject. See Machinist, “The Voice of the Historian in the Ancient Near Eastern and Mediterranean World,” 122–126.

198

Sara Kipfer

lical texts. 74 Usually the Assyrian king refers to his campaigns by indicating the year after his accession. 75 Shalmaneser III A.0.102.1, 14–15 At that time, in my accession year (and) in my first regnal year, after I nobly ascended the royal throne, (15) I mustered (my) chariots and troops. Šamšī-adad V A.0.103.1 190, iii 17'–18' On my fifth campaign I marched for a second time to Karduniaš.

Only later, during the time of Ashurbanipal the campaigns were organized according to geographical regions. 76 However, already in Neo-Assyrian texts and iconography from the 9th century BCE not only time, but also space played an important role. 77 To conclude, Saul and David are depicted as ideal empire builders – as Cynthia Edenburg has stated – “much like the depictions of the great NeoAssyrian kings whose royal authority was reinforced by a divine mandate to establish Assyrian rule over all lands”. 78 1 Sam 14:47–48; 2 Sam 8:1–11*, 13–14 and 8:11*–12, 15* function like a “geographical résumé” 79 – in each, David or Saul is said to have conquered the powers west, east, north and south. 80

74 75

76 77

78 79

80

See Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 3, 710: “Ob der Grundtext geradewegs aus Hofannalen stammt, ist fraglich, würde man dann doch Zeitangaben vermissen.” From the reign of Sargon II until Ashurbanipal –, as Cogan, The Raging Torrent, 5, demonstrated – “new ways of ordering and numbering the king’s campaign were introduced” and no longer “was a sequential year-by-year followed”. See Cogan, The Raging Torrent, 5–6. See e.g. DeGrado, “King of the Four Quarters”; Marcus, “Geography as an Organizing Principle in the Imperial Art of Shalmaneser III,” 90; Keel and Uehlinger, “Der Assyrerkönig Salmanasser III. und Jehu von Israel auf dem Schwarzen Obelisken aus Nimrud.” Edenburg, “David, the Great King, King of the Four Quarters,” 159. For the term “geographical resume” see Marcus, “Geography as an Organizing Principle in the Imperial Art of Shalmaneser III,” 90. See Keel and Uehlinger, “Der Assyrerkönig Salmanasser III. und Jehu von Israel auf dem Schwarzen Obelisken aus Nimrud,” 404: “Von Sonnenaufgang/Osten bis Sonnenuntergang/Westen bezeichnet die Gesamtausdehnung des Raumes, in dem der Herrschaftsanspruch des assyrischen Königs anerkannt wird.” See also Wazana, All the Boundaries of the Land, 58–82. See Edenburg, “David, the Great King, King of the Four Quarters,” 164: “First, the merism inherent to the west–east, north–south structure implies that the scribe shaped the catalog in order to credit David with subjection of all the lands adjacent to Israel in all four cardinal directions – from west to east and from north to south.” I would, however, avoid speaking of merism here, since the structures are not very clear and some cardinal directions are mentioned more than once, etc.

Conquering all the Enemies

199

2 Sam 8:1–11*, 13–14 81

1 Sam 14:47–48

2 Sam 8:11*–12, 15 82

West

V. 1 Philistine

Philistine

Philistines

East

V. 2 Moab

Moab

Moab

–

Ammon

Ammon

V. 3–4 Aram-Zobah

Zobah

Zobah

North

V. 5–6 Aram Damascus V. 9–11 Hamath South (Southeast)

V. 13–14 Edom

Edom

(Edom)

South

–

Amalek

Amalek

Saul and David were each depicted as king of the four quarters. This title is known not only from Mesopotamian royal inscriptions (šar kibrātim arbaʾim), but is also attested in the Aramaic equivalent. The inscriptions are referring to Tiglath-pileser III as ‫( רבעת ארק‬14) [...] ‫ מערב‬. ‫ ועד‬. ‫ שמש‬. ‫ מוקא‬. ‫ אשור ]…[ ֯מן‬. ‫מלך‬ (Panamuwa Inscription KAI 215, l. 13–14*) and ‫ ארקא‬. ‫ רבעי‬. ‫( מרא‬Barrākib Inscription KAI 216, l. 3–4* and KAI 217, l. 2). 83 654 F

4.

The Historical Setting of 1 Sam 14:47–48; 2 Sam 8:1–11*, 13–14; and 8:11*–12, 15*

1 Sam 14:47–48; 2 Sam 8:1–11*, 13–14; and 8:11*–12, 15* were not at a first place “historiography” but should rather be understood as part of a communication of power describing wars against enemies west, east, north and south. These 81

82

83

Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 3, 704–705, speaks of a “geographische[s] Muster”. See Edenburg, “David, the Great King, King of the Four Quarters,” 161: “The catalog itself has been shaped according to geographical principles, with the notices of David’s conquests moving from west (the Philistines, 2 Sam 8:1, 1 Chr 18:1) to east (Moab, 2 Sam 8:2, 1 Chr 18:2) and then from north (Aram, 2 Sam 8:3–8, 1 Chr 18:3–8) to south (Edom, 2 Sam 8:13–14, 1 Chr 18:12–13).” Zeph 2 has a wider perspective, mentioning also Assur and Egypt: Philistine (V. 4–7), Moab and Ammon (V. 8–11), Kush (V. 12), Assur (V. 13–15). Am 1–2 mentions Damascus (Am 1:3–5), the Philistines (Am 1:6– 8), Tyrus (Am 1:9–10), Edom (Am 1:11–12), Ammon and Moab (Am 1:13–14; 2:1–3). According to Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 3, 708–709, 2 Sam 8:1aα and 2 Sam 8:11–12 belong to the same redaction: “Am sichersten lässt sich die Redaktion in 1aα greifen: Mit der Formel ‫ויהי אחרי־כן‬ wird das Nachfolgende locker an das Vorangehende der Erzählungen von der Überführung der Lade und von der Weissagung Natans – angefügt. Der Kontext, den die Redaktion überschaut, ist aber noch weiter. In 12 werden unversehens Ammon und Amalek als Gegner Davids genannt, was die Kenntnis von 2 Sam 10 bzw. 1 Sam 30 voraussetzt – und diesen Vers zusammen mit seiner Einleitung in 11, als redaktionell erweist.” See also Edenburg, “David, the Great King, King of the Four Quarters,” 160–161. See Edenburg, “David, the Great King, King of the Four Quarters,” 164: “I think the scribe may even have intended this structure implicitly to claim for David the Mesopotamian royal title ‘king of the four quarters [of the world]’ (šar kibrātim arbaʾim).”

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texts however only function as such in times when the enemies mentioned still were considered to be a threat. In the following I will therefore very briefly outline what we know about the history of the Philistines, Moab, Ammon, Edom, the Arameans and Amalek. The Philistines, west of Judah, were the most dangerous enemies in the tenth century. It is therefore not surprising that the text claims that Saul and David defeated them successfully (e.g. 1 Sam 10:5; 13; 15; 2 Sam 5:17–25; see also Judg 3:31; 15:9; 1 Sam 4:1–2; 2 Sam 23:13–17). 84 It is striking, furthermore, that they are not mentioned later as enemies of Solomon, and it can be assumed that the wars in the border region between Juda and the Philistine territories stopped by the latest in the early 9th century, when Hazael besieged Philistine Gath (2 Kgs 12:18–19). In 796 BCE the Philistines became tributaries of Adad-nirari III; 85 thus, from the early 8th century onward the power of the Philistines was definitively crushed. The adversaries east of Israel and Judah, Moab and Ammon, never had the same paradigmatic image as “enemies” in the Hebrew Bible as did the Philistines. This tempered image has many different causes, among them the broad cultural background they shared with Israel and Judah. The Mesha Inscription refers to various wars between Israel and the Moabite king Mesha in the mid-9th century (see also 2 Kgs 1:1; 3:1–27; according to 2 Kgs 3:9 Judah, Edom and Israel fought side-by-side against Moab). However, presumably only for a very short period during the 10th and 9th centuries, Judah and Moab – separated by the Dead Sea, as well as Israel in the north and Edom in the south – were direct neighboring “states”. 86 Settlement history and archaeology attest the cultural blossoming of Moab, with its heartland on the Dhiban-Plateau (north of the Arnon river) in the Iron Age II. This cultural flourit breaks off only in the 6th century. 87 Ammon, a 84

85

86

87

2 Sam 8:1 says that David struck down the Philistines and made them kneel (‫ )כנע‬and took the ‫ מֶ תֶ ג הָ אַ מָּ ה‬from the hand of the Philistines (see LXX καὶ ἔλαβεν Δαυιδ τὴν ἀφωρισμένην ἐκ χειρὸς). Whether one should think about bridles or handcuffs does not make much difference. The text implicitly claims that the power balance changed and the Philistines ceased being a threat for Judah. See the lengthy discussion in Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 3, 720–721. Edenburg, “David, the Great King, King of the Four Quarters,” 164, comes to a different conclusion, seeing in ‫ מֶ תֶ ג הָ אַ מָּ ה‬a “particular piece of booty”. See e.g. Ehrlich, The Philistines in Transition, 30–34; Machinist, “Biblical Traditions: The Philistines and Israelite History,” 53–69; Niemann, “Nachbarn und Gegner, Konkurrenten und Verwandte Judas,” 70–91; Gitin, “Philistia in Transition: The Tenth Century BCE and Beyond,” 162– 183. The Mesha Inscription KAI 181:31–32 postulates shared boundaries when reading: “And in Ḥawrōnēn there lived Bēt [Da]wīd.” This interpretation is based on two assumptions: First that Ḥawrōnēn / Horonajim (Isa 15:5; Jer 48:3, 5, 34) can be identified with ed-Dēr, as Worschech, and Knauf, “Dimon und Horonaim,” 84, suggested; and second that the reading of Bēt [Da]wīd, as Lemaire, “‘House of David’ Restored in Moabite Inscription,” 30–37, and others have proposed, is correct. See e.g. Timm, Moab zwischen den Mächten; Gaß, Die Moabiter; and, more recently, Routledge, “Conditions of State Formation at the Edge of Empires,” 77–97; and Bean, Rollston, McCarter, and Wimmer, “An Inscribed Altar from the Khirbat Ataruz Moabite Sanctuary,” 211–236.

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201

very small (city-)state located in the north-central plateau south of Wadi Zarqa, is also a frequently mentioned adversary in the books of Samuel (e.g. 1 Sam 11; 2 Sam 10; 11:1; 12:26–31; 23:37). 88 However, according to the biblical texts, it also became a partner through marriage politics. 89 Ammon lay at the periphery of the great powers and was presumably annexed together with Edom by the Babylonians under Nabonidus in 553/2 BCE. 90 Arameans in the Northern Levant were certainly a continuous threat to Israel and Judah, but it is difficult to assign a single “Aramean” identity to the polities in the books of Samuel: the David stories clearly depict several independent political entities. 91 Aram-Zobah is mentioned several times in connection with David. 92 It is situated in the western Anti-Lebanon extending through the Beqa valley north of Beth Rehob. 93 In Neo-Assyrian documents Zobah is attested as Ṣubat or Ṣupite (and other variants) and occurs eight times in the 8th century Aramaic Graffiti from Hamath (where it appears as ‫)צבה‬. 94 The relation between Aram-Zobah and Beth Rehob is not clear and it has been supposed that the “two regions that were originally independent entities were united as one political entity under Hadad-ezer”. 95 Zobah became an Assyrian province around 732 BCE and began losing its power from that moment. 1 Chr 18:3 added the information that Zobah lay “toward Hamath”. Hamath is mentioned in 2 Sam 8:9–10 as a city (modern Ḥama) that payed David voluntarily tribute. According to this note, Toi, king of Hamath, and his son Joram (or Ιεδδουραν Hadadram) entered an alliance with David after his defeat of Hadadezer. 96 Hamath was thoroughly integrated into the Assyrian Empire in 738 BCE and “remained so until its demise”. 97 AramDamascus (see e.g. 2 Sam 8:5–6) 98 became presumably the most important 67F

68F

69F

88 89 90 91

92

93 94 95 96 97 98

See e.g. Hübner, Die Ammoniter, 168–186. From annalistic notes in 1 Kgs 14:21, 31 we learn that Rehobeam had an Ammonite mother. See Hübner, Die Ammoniter, 205–206. Na’aman, “In Search of Reality Behind the Account of David’s Wars with Israel’s Neighbours,” 202: “These latter entities (with the exception of Damascus) are missing from all the sources written in the eighth-fifth centuries BCE, and the political territorial situation in the seventh century was entirely different from that reflected in David’s history.” Zobah is mentioned around 15 times in the Hebrew Bible as ‫ צוֹבָ א‬1 Sam 14:47; 2 Sam 8:3, 5, 12; 23:36; 1 Kgs 11:23 cj.; 1 Chr 18:3, 5, 9; 19:6 or ‫ א ֲַרם צוֹבָ א‬2 Sam 10:6, 8; Ps 60:2; see also ‫ חֲמָ ת צוֹבָ ה‬in 2 Chr 8:3. See Kipfer, “Zoba”. See Bagg, Die Orts- und Gewässernamen der neuassyrischen Zeit, 333–334; and Younger, A Political History of the Arameans, 192–204. KAI 205–208; Schwiderski, The Old and Imperial Aramaic Inscriptions, 197–201. See Younger, A Political History of the Arameans, 201; and Zwickel, “Zwei Aramäerstaaten in der Beqa’-Ebene,” 442. As Younger, A Political History of the Arameans, 146–147, demonstrates, “the personal names are not inconsistent with the known situation in Hamath.” Younger, A Political History of the Arameans, 499. For an overview of the history of Hamath see Younger, A Political History of the Arameans, 425–499. Lemaire, “The Boundary between the Aramean Kingdom of Damascus and the Kingdom of Israel,” 247, assumes that there was no independent kingdom of Damascus during David’s reign and “that the beginning of the kingdom of Damascus took place around the beginning of Solo-

202

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Aramean city-state in southern Syria and one of the most important Levantine powers in the mid-9th century (see e.g. Kurkh Monolith, Shalmaneser III A.0.102.2 ii,90–91). 99 It was conquered in 732 BCE by Tiglath-pileser III, who claims to have destroyed 591 towns throughout Aram. 100 As a consequence it lost its political independence and Aram-Damascus (Bīt-Ḫaza’ili) became an Assyrian provincial capital. 101 Edom exemplifies the enemy in the south – or, more precisely, the southeast. 102 The place of battle is specified as the Valley of Salt (‫ ;בְּ גֵיא־מֶ לַח‬2 Sam 8:13), south of the Dead Sea. In 2 Kgs 8:20–22 it is said twice that Edom split from Judah (see also 1 Kgs 11:15–16; 2 Kgs 14:7). Although Edom eventually lost its independence in 553/52 BCE after the campaign by Nabonidus, 103 it had expanded towards its Philistine trading partners from the 8th and 7th century in the interim. 104 From this time onward Edom bordered Judah in the southern Cisjordan. The Edomites, who had migrated later, gave their name to a new territory when Persia organized its southern Palestinian border and founded the hyparchy Idumea around 400 BCE. 105 Last but not least, Amalek is also mentioned as an enemy in the far south. Only little is known about the Amalekites and no extra-biblical evidence for their polity or culture is preserved. What can be said with some certainty, however, is that the Amalekites were a nomadic tribe (proto-Bedouin) with camels, who lived somewhere in the Negeb or in the Sinai. 106 They undertook dangerous raids and presumably also controlled the long-distance trade. These data clearly point to an early date (10th–9th century) of the two short lists in 1 Sam 14:47–48 and 8:11*–12, 15*. Only at this very early time was Saul also plausibly seen as a successful king, conquering all the enemies around him. The fact that Amalek is only mentioned in 1 Sam 14:48bα and 2 Sam 8:12 could be an argument that these short notes are older than the more elaborate list in 674F

675F

67F

99 100

101 102 103 104 105 106

mon’s reign (ca. 970 B.C.E.)”. Zwickel, “Borders between Aram-Damascus and Israel,” 273, is skeptical about the historical reliability of 2 Sam 8:6, although for different reasons: “The aim of this verse was likely to demonstrate that the area of Upe was integrated into the territory of King David. But since David never controlled Geshur, which is situated between Israel and Aram-Damascus/Upe, it is very unlikely that he ever ruled over the area of Upe.” See Younger, “Aram-Damascus,” 46. Younger, “Aram-Damascus,” 48, concludes: “In 734 B.C.E., Tiglath-pileser campaigned along the Levantine coast, forcing the capitulation of Tyre along with numerous Philistine cities. In 733– 732 B.C.E., he campaigned against Aram and Israel. He destroyed 591 towns throughout Aram. […] The Assyrians annexed the city-state, dividing it up into provinces. This was the end of the independent political entity, through Damascus would rise to importance again in the Hellenistic period.” See Younger, A Political History of the Arameans, 549–635. See for a research overview Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 3, 716–718; see also 733–734. See Bartlett, Edom and the Edomites, 157–161. See Knauf, “The Cultural Impact of Secondary State Formation,” 51. See Knauf, “The Cultural Impact of Secondary State Formation,” 51–52. See e.g. Na’aman, “In Search of Reality Behind the Account of David’s Wars with Israel’s Neighbours,” 202.

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203

2 Sam 8:1–11*, 13–14. This assumption is strengthened by the fact that, like Amalek, Ammon too goes without mention in 2 Sam 8:1–11*, 13–14. 107 Instead, in 2 Sam 8:5–6 Aram-Damascus is listed, as is Hamath in 2 Sam 8:9–10. In 2 Sam 8:13–14 – as the conclusion of 2 Sam 8:1–11* – Edom is added as the only enemy in the south. Presumably, then, the Edomites remained the only enemy in the south/southeast at that time. V. 13–14 looks like a combination of all the elements before, mentioning the casualties, the vassalage and the garrisoning of the country. 108 These verses share some similarities with 2 Kgs 14:7, which summarizes Amaziah’s victory over Edom (“He killed ten thousand Edomites in the Valley of Salt and took Sela by storm; he called it Jokthe-el, which is its name to this day”). A dating of 2 Sam 8:1–11*, 13–14 in the early 8th century would explain the often discussed and misleading information about “Hadadezer son of Rehob king of Zobah” (2 Sam 8:3). 109 The different pieces of information contained in the various layers of 2 Sam 8:1–14 were eventually mixed up over time, due to the “short limits of historical memory”. 110 To sum up, the years after Saul’s and David’s reigns were not peaceful. We know of several incidents in the 10th and 9th century. Shoshenq I’s campaign to Palestine around 925 BCE can be described as a “ground-breaking event”. 111 Shoshenq I conquered many cities along his route up to the Jezreel valley. Only some decades later Neo-Assyrian expansion started with Ashurnasirpal’s ninth campaign (875–867 BCE) and the Assyrians reached the southern Levant during Shalmaneser III’s expedition in 842 BCE. 112 But not only did the great powers of the South and North – which are not mentioned at all in the lists! – threaten the region in the early 10th and 9th century. Mesha, king of Moab was at war with Israel in the mid-9th century (see Mesha Inscription) and shortly afterwards Hazael of Aram (from around 842 BCE) started with an expansive policy. At some 107

108

109 110

111 112

See for the different explanations Halpern, “The Constructions of the Davidic State,” 68–71. Na’aman, “In Search of Reality Behind the Account of David’s Wars with Israel’s Neighbours,” 213, stressed that there are no extra-biblical texts shedding light on the relation between Israel and Ammon in the 9th century BCE. See Halpern, “The Constructions of the Davidic State,” 67–68: “What is important about the Edomite campaign is that three elements of David’s ideal policy are combined: inflicting heavy casualties during a victory on the field, as in the case of Zobah and Damascus; the reduction of the Edomites to vassalage, as in the case of Aram Damascus. Edom is placed at the climax of the account to leave the reader with the impression that the previous conquests were as thoroughgoing and permanent as that of the impoverished south. The direct parallel is to the summary statements in the annals of Tiglath-Pileser I, which level all distinctions among the nations he harassed.” See above. See similarly Na’aman, “In Search of Reality Behind the Account of David’s Wars with Israel’s Neighbours,” 216: Na’aman’s argumentation is, however, somewhat different: “The choice of Hazael, whose reign covered most of the second half of the ninth century, for shaping the figure of Hadadezer, David’s main rival, is an important clue regarding the date in which the account of David’s wars with his neighbours was first written” (210). Finkelstein, “The Campaign of Shoshenq I to Palestine,” 129. Bagg, Die Assyrer und das Westland, 191–231; and Bagg, “Palestine under Assyrian Rule,” 119–144.

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point during this time, it became necessary to emphasize that Saul and David each won battles on all fronts and subjugated all their enemies.

5.

Conclusion

As I have demonstrated in the first section above, the literary history of 1 Sam 14:47–48 and 8:11*–12, 15* is much more complex than often assumed. It is highly problematic to estimate a deuteronomistic redaction or to postulate a direct literary dependency more generally. Instead of presenting a new hypothesis of how the texts may relate to each other, I have analyzed the different motifs and have compared them to Aramean, Moabite and Akkadian texts from the early Neo-Assyrian period. The similarities in style and content leads to the conclusion that 1 Sam 14:47–48; 2 Sam 8:1–11*, 13–14; and 8:11*–12, 15* are three different sources dating to the early monarchic period. 113 Instead of seeing 1 Sam 14:47–48 as a “summary”, one should rather speak about a “short list” similar to that found in 2 Sam 8:1–11*, 13–14, so as to take the historic value of those texts more seriously. 114 The “annalistic style” of 2 Sam 8* is not debated in research. 115 Therefore, one could easily conclude with Baruch Halpern: “It appears that 2Sam. 8 takes the form of a royal inscription.” 116 Saying this, it is not surprising 113

114

115 116

Edenburg, “David, the Great King, King of the Four Quarters,” 174, comes to a different conclusion: “The fact that the catalog draws upon Neo-Assyrian conventions firmly places it within the scope of Deuteronomistic literary production, even though it does not employ Deuteronomistic idioms.” See also Fischer, “Die literarische Entstehung des Großreichs,” 123: “Die biblische Kriegs-Chronik in 2Sam 8,2–10 erweist sich damit als eine Nachbildung der späten Königszeit. […] Sie schildert die Siege Davids im Stil assyrischer Kommemorativinschrift und läßt dadurch den Gründungsvater der judäischen Dynastie als einen Großkönig auf den Plan treten. Sie entwirft schließlich ein fiktives Großreich, das die Grenzen des späteren Nordreichs während seiner Blütezeit im 8. Jh. v.Chr. einschließt und dessen Größe im Schatten der Machtentfaltung Davids erstrahlen läßt.” See similarly Eißfeldt, Die Komposition der Samuelisbücher, 11: “Offenbar handelt es sich hier um eine bestimmte Art der Geschichtsschreibung: das Aufkommen eines Königs oder sonstige charakteristische Begebnisse werden anschaulich erzählt, das übrige wird in listenartiger Aufzählung kurz abgetan.” See Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 3, 706: “In der Forschung besteht weitgehend Einmütigkeit über den annalenartigen Charakter des Textes.” Halpern, David’s Secret Demons, 208. See already Halpern, “The Constructions of the Davidic State,” 54–55. See also Machinist, “Royal Inscription in the Hebrew Bible and Mesopotamia,” 334–336, who lists all fragments of royal inscriptions found during excavations, coming to the conclusion: “First, the evidence shows without question that royal inscriptions were known in and around the territories of Israel and Judah. Second, even if the evidence is exiguous, it appears to indicate that the kings of Israel and Judah not only knew of royal inscriptions, but in fact composed them” (336). Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 3, 710, concludes: “Die in der Forschung immer wieder erwogene Idee, es könne sich um den Text einer Kommemorativ-Inschrift handeln, ist gewinnend, aber unbeweisbar.” See also Good, “2 Samuel 8*,” 129–138.

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that strategic information, description of battlefields, information about the process of the war, etc., is missing. 117 It was simply not part of that literary genre. 118 Instead – as in the Assyrian texts – the focus lay on the “body count” (2 Sam 8:4, 5, 13) and the booty taken. This includes also notes of tribute as a peace offering (2 Sam 8:9–10). The texts are not so much about “empire-building”; their focus clearly does not lie on the extension of Saul’s and David’s respective empires, 119 but rather claim Saul’s and David’s powerful deeds. 120 In royal inscriptions of the NeoAssyrian period the king – and only the king – is the subject of the military actions. 121 Military activities played an important role in the self-presentation and communication of power. The same deeds were attributed not simply to one ruler. Rather, they reoccur repeatedly in the summaries of various rulers’ military exploits. The victories were credited to different kings again and again – be they Assyrian 122 or Biblical. 123 Only by keeping the structures of power commu117

118

119

120 121

122

123

See Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 3, 705: “Die kriegsgeschichtlich interessanten Einzelheiten jedoch – Lage und Topographie der Schlachtfelder, Aufmarsch der Heere, Heeresformationen, führende Generäle, strategische Erwägungen und taktische Entscheidungen, genaue Zeitpunkte und Zeiträume, Verlauf der Schlachten, Auswirkungen auf die betroffenen Regionen und ihre Bewohnerinnen und Bewohner – bleiben ganz unanschaulich bzw. gänzlich ausgeblendet. Man hat den Eindruck, als werde hier trockenstes Archivmaterial zitiert; zumindest wird der entsprechende Anschein erweckt.” For the discussion whether Assyrian royal inscriptions should be viewed as a collection of disparate texts or rather as a diverse but basically coherent genre, see Fales, “Assyrian Royal Inscription,” 121–122. For an overview over structure and settings of royal inscriptions in the Ancient Near East, see Machinist, “Royal Inscription in the Hebrew Bible and Mesopotamia,” 332–333. See e.g. Fischer, “Die literarische Entstehung des Großreichs,” 105: “Was nun noch vom Großreich Davids übrig bleibt, hängt am seidenen Faden der Kriegs-Chronik in 2Sam 8,1–14. Man darf sie nicht von vornherein für einen Annalen-Auszug eines Jerusalemer Hofchronisten erklären und damit ihren historischen Wert über mögliche Zweifel erheben.” However, Sanders, “From People to Public in the Iron Age Levant,” 200, points to the fact, that among “the tens of thousands of texts from Late Bronze Age Syria, there is not a single public monument or historical account, with the intriguing possible expansion of the Idrimi autobiography from Alalakh. Before the Iron Age, there was a West Semitic politics but no West Semitic imperial literary tradition – because there were no West-Semitic empires.” See Tadmor, “Propaganda, Literature, Historiography,” 327: besides the “account of mighty royal deeds,” the Assyrian king also “embodied the will of his God, Ashur”. See e.g. Linke, Das Charisma der Könige, 114. It is especially striking that in the books of Samuel not only Saul and David, but also Abner (2 Sam 2:12) and Joab are said to have led wars (see e.g. 2 Sam 2:12; 3:22; 10:7–13; 11:1; 12:26–31; 20:7). For more details about the texts where Joab is set over the army (‫ ;ﬠַל־הַ צָּ בָ א‬see 2 Sam 2:18) and is presented as “war”-lord, see e.g. Kipfer, Der bedrohte David, 94–96. See Karlsson, Relations of Power in Early Neo-Assyrian State Ideology. See Cogan, The Raging Torrent, 1: “The royal inscriptions were, first and foremost, ideological compositions, designed to memorialize the achievements of the reigning monarch.” Renger, “Neuassyrische Königsinschriften als Genre der Keilschriftliteratur,” 110, points to their “propagandistischen Charakter”. See also Tadmor, “History and Ideology in the Royal Assyrian Inscriptions,” 13–33; Van de Mieroop, Cuneiform Texts and the Writing of History, 40–59. Na’aman, “Memories of Monarchical Israel in the Narratives of David’s Wars with Israels Neigh-

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nication in mind are we able to understand the function of this precious testimony from the early monarchic period. It is therefore only appropriate to ask whether 1 Sam 14:47–52 and 2 Sam 8:1–15 contain reliable information about Saul’s and David’s military action. 124 The often assumed connection between the age of a text and its historical truth should be questioned. 125 Simply because a text is old does not mean that it refers to historical “facts”. 126 The texts themselves construct a historical reality,127 especially where they clearly constitute part of the text’s communication of its subjects’ power. 128 The texts at hand are clearly at pains to build up both Saul’s and David’s respective power structures by putting each king in line with King Mesha, the author of the Tel Dan inscription (presumably Hazael), and the NeoAssyrian kings. In a time when the Philistines and Amalek threatened Israel and Judah, these texts sought to achieve their full effect by stating that Saul and, afterwards, David were powerful enough to deal with this threat and were able to control the enemies west, east, south and north.

Bibliography Auld, A. Graeme. 1 & 2 Samuel: A Commentary. The Old Testament Library. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011. Bagg, Ariel M. Die Orts- und Gewässernamen der neuassyrischen Zeit. T. 1: Die Levante. Répetoire Géographique des Textes Cunéiformes 7/1. Wiesbaden: Reichert Verlag, 2007. ________. Die Assyrer und das Westland. Studien zur historischen Geographie und Herrschaftspraxis in der Levante im 1. Jt. v. u. Z. OLA 216. Leuven, Paris, Walpole: Peeters, 2011.

124 125 126 127

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bours,” 322: “The author of 2 Samuel 8 sought to depict David as the most glorious conqueror in the history of Israel, similar to other great conquerors whose fame spread all over the region of ‘Beyond the River.’ In line with this ideology, he related David subjugated the Philistines (v. 1); conquered Moab (v. 2), Zobah (vv. 3–4, 7), Damascus (vv. 5–6) and Edom (vv. 13–14); and received the presents delivered by the delegation of To’i, King of Hamath (vv. 9–10).” See Donner, Geschichte des Volkes Israel und seiner Nachbarn in Grundzügen, 226. For a research overview, see Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 3, 713–715. This is also true for cuneiform inscriptions from Assyria. See Cogan, The Raging Torrent, 1. Dietrich, Samuel. Vol. 3, 735: “An der Problematik dieser Darstellung ändert sich nur bedingt etwas, wenn man ihren historischen Realitätsgehalt als gering einstuft. Auch ein Text ist eine Realität, zwar nur eine literarische, aber dazu geeignet in Köpfen reale Bilder entstehen zu lassen, die wiederum auf politisch-militärische Realisierung drängen.” See also Machinist, “Royal Inscription in the Hebrew Bible and Mesopotamia,” 363: “And in the development of this power the importance of texts like ours should not be trivialized, since it was, at least in part, through such texts that the elites could find and shape their identity. In this way literature for these elites could become politics at a very high level, even as politics could be enacted through literature.” See for the discussion on the ideology and literary structure of texts Younger, Ancient Conquest Accounts, 61–65. He concludes: “Only after identifying the literary and ideological structures used in composing the historical narratives, is it possible to gain a proper understanding of the text” (64).

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________. “Palestine under Assyrian Rule. A New Look at the Assyrian Imperial Policy in the West.” JAOS 133 (2013): 119–144. Bartlett, John R. Edom and the Edomites. JSOT.Suppl. Ser. 77, Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1989. Barthélemy, Dominique. Critique textuelle de l’Ancien Testament. Rapport final du Comité pour l’analyse textuelle de l’Ancien Testament hébreu institué par l’Alliance Biblique Universelle. OBO 50. Fribourg, Göttingen: Universitätsverlag Freiburg, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1982. Bean, Adam L., Christopher A. Rollston, P. Kyle McCarter, and Stefan J.Wimmer. “An Inscribed Altar from the Khirbat Ataruz Moabite Sanctuary.” Levant 50 (2018): 211–236, https://doi.org/10.1080/00758914.2019.1619971. Bezzel, Hannes. Saul. Israels König in Tradition, Redaktion und früher Rezeption. FAT 97. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015. ________. “Saul und die Philister. Redaktionskritische Überlegungen zu 1 Samuel 13–14.” Pages 457– 466 in The Books of Samuel. Stories, History, Reception History. BETL 284. Edited by Walter Dietrich. Leuven, Paris, Bristol, CT: Peeters, 2016. Budde, Karl. Die Bücher Samuel. Kurzer Hand-Commentar zum Alten Testament. Tübingen, Leipzig: Mohr (Siebeck), 1902. Bührer, Walter. “‚Ich will mir einen Namen machen!‘ Alttestamentliche und altorientalische Verewigungsstrategien.“ Biblica 98 (2017): 481–503. Campbell, Antony F. 2 Samuel. The Forms of the Old Testament Literature 8. Grand Rapids, Michigan, Cambridge, U.K.: William B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2005. ________. 1 Samuel. The Forms of the Old Testament Literature 7. Grand Rapids, MI, Cambridge, U.K.: William B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2003. Cantrell, Deborah O’Daniel. The Horsemen of Israel. Horses and Chariots in Monarchic Israel (Ninth-Eighth Centuries B.C.E.). History, Archaeology, and Culture of the Levant 1. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2011. Cogan, Mordechai. The Raging Torrent. Historical Inscriptions from Assyria and Babylonia Relating to Ancient Israel. Jerusalem: Carta, 2008. DeGrado, Jessie. “King of the Four Quarters: Diversity as a Rhetorical Strategy of the Neo-Assyrian Empire.” Iraq (2019), doi:10.1017/irq.2019.8. Dietrich, Walter. “Zwischen Gott und Volk. Das Königtum in der Sicht des Alten Testaments.” Pages 137–156 in Walter Dietrich. Theopolitik. Studien zur Theologie und Ethik des Alten Testaments. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag. ________. Samuel. Volume 2. 1Samuel 13–26. BK.AT VIII. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2015. ________. Samuel. Volume 3. 1 Samuel 27 – 2 Samuel 8. BK.AT VIII. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2019. Donner, Herbert. Geschichte des Volkes Israel und seiner Nachbarn in Grundzügen. Teil 1: Von den Anfängen bis zur Staatenbildungszeit, Grundrisse zum Alten Testament. 3rd edition. ATD.E 4/1. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000. Edenburg, Cynthia. “David, the Great King, King of the Four Quarters. Structure and Signification in the Catalog of David’s Conquest (2 Samuel 8:1–14, 1 Chronicles 18:1–13).” Pages 159–175 in Raising Up a Faithful Exegete. Essays in Honor of Richard D. Nelson. Edited by Kurt L. Noll, and Brooks Schramm. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2010. Ehrlich, Carl S. The Philistines in Transition. A History from ca. 1000 – 730 BCE. Leiden, New York, Köln: Brill, 1996. Eißfeldt, O. Die Komposition der Samuelisbücher. Leipzig, J. C. Hinrichs’sche Buchhandlung, 1931. Fales, Frederick Mario. “Assyrian Royal Inscription: Newer Horizons.” SAAB 13 (1999–2001): 115–144. Finkelstein, Israel. “The Campaign of Shoshenq I to Palestine: A Guide to the 10th Century BCE Polity.” ZDPV 118 (2002): 109–135. ________. “Israel and Aram. Reflections on their Border.” Pages 17–36 in In Search for Aram and Israel. Politics, Culture, and Identity. ORA 20. Edited by Omer Sergi, Manfred Oeming, and Izaak J. de Hulster. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016. Fischer, Alexander A. “Die literarische Entstehung des Großreichs Davids und ihr geschichtlicher Hintergrund. Zur Darstellung der Kriegs-Chronik in 2Sam 8,1–14(15).” Pages 101–128 in Das Alte Testament – ein Geschichtsbuch?! Geschichtsschreibung oder Geschichtsüberlieferung im antiken Israel.

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Joachim Conrad zum 70. Geburtstag. ABG 17. Edited by Uwe Becker, and Jürgen van Oorschot. Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2005. Foucault, Michel. Power / Knowledge. Selected Interviews and Other Writings 1972 – 1977. Edited by Colin Gordon. New York: Pantheon Books, 1980. ________. “The Subject of Power.” Critical Inquiry 8 (1982): 777–795. ________. An Introduction. The History of Sexuality Vol. 1. London: Penguin Books, 1984. Fouts, David M. “Another Look at Large Numbers in Assyrian Royal Inscription.” JNES 53 (1994): 205– 211. Gaß, Erasmus. Die Moabiter – Geschichte und Kultur eines ostjordanischen Volkes im 1. Jahrtausend v.Chr. ADPV 38. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2009. Gesenius, Wilhelm. Hebräisches und Aramäisches Handwörterbuch über das Alte Testament. 18th edition. Berlin, Heidelberg: Springer Verlag, 2013. Gitin, Seymour. “Philistia in Transition: The Tenth Century BCE and Beyond.” Pages 162–183 in Mediterranean Peoples in Transition: Thirteenth to Early Tenth Centuries BCE. In Honor of Professor Trude Dothan. Edited by Seymour Gitin, Amihai Mazar, and Ephraim Stern. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1998. Good, Robert M. “2 Samuel 8*.” TynB 52 (2001): 129–138. Grayson, Albert Kirk. Assyrian Rulers of the Early First Millennium BC II (858–745 BC). The Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia. Assyrian Periods Volume 3. Toronto, Buffalo, London: University of Toronto Press, 1996. Halpern, Baruch. David’s Secret Demons: Messiah, Murderer, Traitor, King: The Bible in Its World. Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2001. ________. “The Constructions of the Davidic State: An Exercise in Historiography.” Pages 44–75 in The Origins of the Ancient Israelite States. JSOT.Suppl. Ser. 228. Edited by Volkmar Fritz, and Philip R. Davies. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996. Hoftijzer, Jacob, and Karel Jongeling. Dictionary of the North-West Semitic Inscriptions. Handbuch der Orientalistik. Abt. 1, Der Nahe und Mittlere Osten 21. Leiden, New York, Köln: Brill, 1995. Hübner, Ulrich. Die Ammoniter. Untersuchungen zur Geschichte, Kultur und Religion eines transjordanischen Volkes im 1. Jahrtausend v. Chr. ADPV 16. Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1992. Jackson, Kent P. “The Language of the Mesha’ Inscription.” Pages 96–130 in Studies in the Mesha Inscription and Moab. Archaeology and Biblical Studies 2. Edited by John Andrew Dearman. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989. Kaiser, Otto. “Der historische und der biblische König Saul (Teil II).” ZAW 123 (2011): 1–14. Karlsson, Mattias, Relations of Power in Early Neo-Assyrian State Ideology. SANER 10. Boston, Berlin: de Gruyter, 2016. Keel, Othmar, and Christoph Uehlinger. “Der Assyrerkönig Salmanasser III. und Jehu von Israel auf dem Schwarzen Obelisken aus Nimrud.” ZKT 116 (1994): 391–420. Kelly, Michael. Critique and Power. Recasting the Focault / Habermas Debate. Cambridge, Mass., London: MIT Press, 1994. Kipfer, Sara. Der bedrohte David. Eine exegetische und rezeptionsgeschichtliche Studie zu 1Sam 16 – 1Kön 2. SBR 3. Berlin, Boston: Walter de Gruyter, 2015. ________. Art. “Zoba.” In Das wissenschaftliche Bibellexikon im Internet. Edited by Michaela Bauks, Klaus Koenen, and Stefan Alkier, http://www.bibelwissenschaft.de/stichwort/35466/. Klein, Johannes. David versus Saul. Ein Beitrag zum Erzählsystem der Samuelbücher. BWANT 158. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer Verlag, 2002. Knauf, Ernst Axel. “The Cultural Impact of Secondary State Formation: The Cases of the Edomites and Moabites.” Pages 47–54 in Early Edom and Moab. The Beginning of the Iron Age on Southern Jordan. Sheffield Archaeological Monographs 7. Edited by Piotr Bienkowski. Sheffield: J. R. Collis Publication, 1992. Lemaire, André. “‘House of David’ Restored in Moabite Inscription.” BAR 20 (1994): 30–37. Lemaire, André. “The Boundary between the Aramean Kingdom of Damascus and the Kingdom of Israel.” Pages 245–266 in Aramaean Borders. Defining Aramaean Territories in the 10th-8th Centuries B.C.E.. Edited by Jan Dušek, and Jana Mynářová. Leiden, Boston: Brill, 2019.

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Linke, Julia. Das Charisma der Könige. Zur Konzeption des altorientalischen Königtums im Hinblick auf Urartu. Philippika Altertumswissenschaftliche Abhandlungen 84. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2015. Machinist, Peter. “The Voice of the Historian in the Ancient Near Eastern and Mediterranean World.” Interpretation 57 (2003): 117–127. ________. “Biblical Traditions: The Philistines and Israelite History.” Pages 53–69 in The Sea Peoples and Their World: A Reassessment. UMM 108. Edited by Eliezer D. Oren. Philadelphia: University Museum, University of Pennsylvania, 2000. ________. “Royal Inscription in the Hebrew Bible and Mesopotamia: Reflections on Presence, Function, and Self-Critique.” Pages 330–363 in “When the Morning Stars Sang”. Essays in Honor of Choon Leong Seow on the Occasion of his Sixty-Fifth Birthday. BZAW 500. Edited by Scott C. Jones, and Christine Roy Yoder. Berlin, Boston: de Gruyter, 2018. Marcus, Michelle I. “Geography as an Organizing Principle in the Imperial Art of Shalmaneser III.” Iraq 49 (1987): 77–90. McCarter, P. Kyle. I Samuel: A New Translation with Introduction, Notes, and Commentary. The Anchor Bible 8. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1980. ________. II Samuel. A New Translation with Introduction, Notes and Commentary. The Anchor Bible 9. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1984. McKenzie, Steven L. King David. A Biography. 2nd edition. Oxford, New York et al.: Oxford University Press, 2001. Na’aman, Nadav. “Hazael of ‘Amqi and Hadadezer of Beth-rehob.” Ugarit-Forschungen 27 (1995): 381– 394. ________. “In Search of Reality Behind the Account of David’s Wars with Israel’s Neighbours.” IEJ 52 (2002): 200–224. ________. “Memories of Monarchical Israel in the Narratives of David’s Wars with Israels Neighbours.” HeBAI 6 (2017): 308–328. Niemann, Hermann Michael. “Nachbarn und Gegner, Konkurrenten und Verwandte Judas: Die Philister zwischen Geographie und Ökonomie, Geschichte und Theologie.” Pages 70–91 in Kein Land für sich allein. Studien zum Kulturkontakt in Kanaan, Israel/Palästina und Ebirnâri für Manfred Weippert zum 65. OBO 186. Edited by Ulrich Hübner, and Ernst Axel Knauf. Freiburg, Göttingen: Universitätsverlag Freiburg, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 2002. Pioske, Daniel D. Memory in the Time of Prose. Studies in Epistemology, Hebrew Scribalism, and the Biblical Past. New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 2018. Radner, Karen. Die Macht des Namens. Altorientalische Strategien zur Selbsterhaltung. SANTAG Arbeiten und Untersuchungen zur Keilschriftkunde 8. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2005. Renger, Johannes. Art. “Königsinschriften. B. Akkadisch.” Pages 65–77 in: Reallexikon der Assyriologie und Vorderasiatischen Archäologie. Vol. 6. Edited by Dietz Otto Edzard. Berlin, New York: de Gruyter, 1980–1983. ________. “Neuassyrische Königsinschriften als Genre der Keilschriftliteratur. Zum Stil und zur Kompositionstechnik der Inschriften Sargons II. von Assyrien.” Pages 109–128 in Keilschriftliche Literaturen. Ausgewählte Vorträge der XXXII. Rencontre Assyriolog. Internat., Münster, 8. – 12.7.1985. BBVO. Edited by Karl Hecker, and Walter Sommerfeld. Berlin: Dietrich Reimer Verlag, 1986. ________. “Aspekte von Kontinuität und Diskontinuität in den assyrischen Königsinschriften.” Pages 169–175 in: Assyrien im Wandel der Zeiten. XXXIXe Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Heidelberg, 6. – 10. Juli 1992. Heidelberger Studien zum Alten Orient 6. Edited by Hartmut Waetzoldt, and Harald Hauptmann. Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orientverlag, 1997. Routledge, Bruce. “Conditions of State Formation at the Edge of Empires: The Case of Iron Age Moab.” Pages 77–97 in State Formation and State Decline in the Near and Middle East. Edited by Rainer Kessler, Walter Sommerfeld, and Leslie Tramontini. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2016. Sanders, Seth L. The Invention of Hebrew. Traditions. Urbana, Chicago, Springfield: University of Illinois Press, 2009. ________. “From People to Public in the Iron Age Levant.” Pages 191–221 in Organization, Representation, and Symbols of Power in the Ancient Near East. Proceedings of the 54th Rencontre Assyriologique

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Internationale at Würzburg, 20 - 25 July 2008. Edited by Gernot Wilhelm. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2012. Schmitt, Rüdiger. Bildhafte Herrschaftsrepräsentation im eisenzeitlichen Israel. AOAT 283. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2001. Schwiderski, Dirk. Die alt- und reichsaramäischen Inschriften / The Old and Imperial Aramaic Inscriptions Band 1: Konkordanz. FoSub 4. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2008. Stoebe, Hans Joachim. Das erste Buch Samuelis. KAT 8,1. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 1973. ________. Das zweite Buch Samuelis. KAT 8,2. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 1994. Stolz, Fritz. Das Erste und Zweite Buch Samuel. ZBK 9. Zürich: Theologischer Verlag Zürich, 1981. Tadmor, Hayim. “Propaganda, Literature, Historiography: Cracking the Code of the Royal Assyrian Inscriptions.” Pages 325–338 in Assyria 1995. Proceedings of the 10th Anniversary Symposium of the Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, Helsinki, September 7–11, 1995. Edited by Simo Parpola, and Robert M. Whiting. Helsinki: Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1997. ________. “History and Ideology in the Royal Assyrian Inscriptions.” Pages 13–33 in Assyrian Royal Inscriptions. New Horizons in literary, ideological and historical analysis. Papers of a symposium held in Cetona (Siena), June 26 – 28, 1980. Orientis Antiqui Collectio 17. Frederick Mario Fales. Roma: Ist. per l’Oriente, 1982. Timm, Stefan. Moab zwischen den Mächten. Studien zu historischen Denkmälern und Texten. ÄAT 17. Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1989. Van de Mieroop, Marc. Cuneiform Texts and the Writing of History. London: Routledge, 1999. Van Seters, John. The Biblical Saga of King David. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2009. Veijola, Timo. Die ewige Dynastie. David und die Entstehung seiner Dynastie nach deuteronomistischen Darstellung. Annales Academiae scientiarum Fennicae. Ser. B, Tom. 193. Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1975. ________. Das Königtum in der Beurteilung der deuteronomistischen Historiographie. Eine redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung. Annales Academiae scientiarum Fennicae. Ser. B.T. 198. Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1977. Wazana, Nili. All the Boundaries of the Land. The Promised Land in Biblical Thought in Light of the Ancient Near East. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2013. Wolf, Kirk. “Foucault’s Ethic of Power.” Auslegung. A Journal of Philosophy 25 (2001): 1–36. Wonneberger, Reinhard, Redaktion. Studien zur Textfortschreibung im Alten Testament, entwickelt am Beispiel der Samuel-Überlieferung. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1992. Worschech, Udo, and Ernst Axel Knauf. “Dimon und Horonaim.” BN 31 (1986): 70–95. Wright, Jacob L. “Making a Name for Oneself: Martial Valor, Heroic Death, and Procreation in the Hebrew Bible.” JSOT 36 (2011): 131–162. ________. “‘Human, All Too Human’: Royal Name-making in War-time,” Pages 62–77 in War and Peace in Jewish Tradition. From the Biblical World to the Present. Edited by Yigal Levin and Shapira Amnon. London, New York: Routledge, 2012. Younger, Lawson K. Ancient Conquest Accounts. A Study in Ancient Near Eastern and Biblical history Writing. JSOT.Suppl. Ser. 98. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1990. ________. A Political History of the Arameans. From Their Origins to the End of Their Polities. Archaeology and Biblical Studies 13. Atlanta: SBL Press, 2016. ________. Art. “Aram-Damascus.” Pages 42–49 in The Oxford Encyclopedia of the Bible and Archaeology. Volume 1. Edited by Daniel M. Master. Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press, 2013. Zwickel, Wolfgang. “Lähmen oder in Besitz nehmen? Auf der Suche nach historischen Informationen im Deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerk.” BN 128 (2006): 27–29. ________. “Zwei Aramäerstaaten in der Beqa’-Ebene: Bet-Rehob und Aram-Zoba.” Ugarit-Forschungen 47 (2016): 431–448. ________. “Borders between Aram-Damascus and Israel: A Historical Investigation.” Pages 267–335 in Aramaean Borders. Defining Aramaean Territories in the 10th-8th Centuries B.C.E.. Edited by Jan Dušek, and Jana Mynářová. Leiden, Boston: Brill, 2019.

Ally or Enemy? Politics and Identity Construction in 2 Sam 15:19–22 Mahri Leonard-Fleckman

Summary This paper opposes the idea that textual depictions of positive relationships between David and Gath necessarily date close to the time of Gath’s destruction in the late ninth century BCE. Focusing on the exchange between David and Ittai in 2 Sam 15:19-22, I argue that this exchange could date as late as the post-exilic period for two reasons: 1) it parallels the exchange between Ruth and Naomi in Ruth 1:8-18, which arguably dates as late as the post-exilic period; and 2) the first “rewritten” rendering of 2 Samuel in Josephus’ first-century CE Jewish Antiquities preserves and even enhances the positive, loyal relationship between David and Ittai. I propose that the dialogue between David and Ittai underscores the complex, creative dynamic between memory, writing and reinterpretation in demonstrating how more porous literary constructions of borders and identities in the David material need not be “early,” even if such depictions arguably reflect the archaeological data of an earlier period. Diese Studie wendet sich gegen die Vorstellung, die literarischen Berichte positiver Beziehungen zwischen David und Gath notwendigerweise nahe an die Zeit der Zerstörung von Gath im späten 9. Jh. v.Chr. datieren zu müssen. Der Austausch zwischen David und Ittai in 2 Sam 15,19–22 stammt aus zwei Gründen aus der nachexilischen Zeit: 1) Er verläuft parallel zum Austausch zwischen Rut und Naomi in Rut 1,8–18, der wohl auf die nachexilische Zeit zurückgeht; und 2) die erste „nacherzählende“ Wiedergabe von 2 Samuel in Josephus Jüdischen Altertümern des 1. Jh.s n.Chr. bewahrt und verstärkt sogar die positive loyale Beziehung zwischen David und Ittai. Der Dialog zwischen David und Ittai unterstreicht die komplexe, kreative Dynamik zwischen Erinnerung, Schrift und Neuinterpretation, indem er aufzeigt, dass durchlässigere literarische Konstruktionen von Grenzen und Identitäten im David-Material nicht „früh“ sein müssen, auch wenn solche Darstellungen wohl die archäologischen Daten einer früheren Periode widerspiegeln.

1.

Introduction

The organizers of “The Book of Samuel and Its Response to Monarchy” seminar described the topic as “timely and relevant, given the historical moment in which we live – wherein populism, xenophobia, and authoritarianism have become increasingly intertwined with one another on the world stage.” 1 This 1

The citation comes from the description of the seminar, organized by Jeremy Hutton and Sara Kipfer for the August 2019 International Organization of the Study of the Old Testament Congress in Aberdeen, UK.

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description supposes that these ancient texts can speak to current political situations and crises. I happen to agree with this presupposition, but then the question is, how? One way, I suggest, is in what we can learn from how the text’s scribes – its authors, editors and redactors – envisioned the ancient political and social world or “landscape” through their textual portrayals of people and intercultural relations, borders and territory. The key is that the Bible’s scribes used and fashioned people and geography in relation to particular, imagined representations of landscape. In other words, boundaries and identities were not simply objective, fixed backdrops to these landscapes. 2 Nor are identities and boundaries objective realities today. For more contemporary examples of landscape construction, consider our many humanmade barriers or border walls, which often splice geography haphazardly and separate people and communities in the process. Think of the Great Wall of China, the Berlin Wall, the Belfast “Peace” Walls, the North/South Korean Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), the West Bank Wall, the US-Mexican border, etc. In the US, the recent powerful and divisive rhetoric to “build the wall” to protect “us” against the so-called Latin@ “migrant caravan” and those whom some political leaders have termed “drug dealers” and “rapists,” reflects an age-old desire as seductive as it is imaginary: that of clear separation and boundary maintenance, of “us” versus “them,” of claim to territory, space or landscape where only a select group belongs. 3 Ultimately, such rhetoric plays on fear and the perception of current threats, no matter how exaggerated, or even imagined, these threats may be. In the Hebrew Bible, depictions of the social and political landscape are (obviously) highly literary, differing between texts and according to particular goals. For example, the land allotments in the book of Joshua envision clearlydelineated political boundaries and reiterate the term ‫גבול‬, “boundary” or “territory,” to do so. Other stories, like the Samson cycle in Judges 13–16, depict slippery, permeable boundaries between people and lack the term ‫ גבול‬altogether. Yet through this literary depiction of deconstructed boundaries, the authors of the Samson cycle may actually be constructing, carefully and conscientiously (like Joshua), their own vision of landscape. I am fascinated by such porous depictions of landscape, the motivations behind them, and what they may teach us. In this paper, I will consider one such example of a boundary deconstruction, in the encounter between David and Ittai 2

3

See Adam T. Smith, who defines landscapes as constructed, imagined representations or “cartographies of possible worlds” that bind together geography or place (and, I would argue, social identities) (Smith, The Political Landscape, 11). On the “migrant caravan,” see, for example, Blitzer, “Donald Trump, the Migrant Caravan, and a Manufactured Crisis at the U.S. Border.” On “rapists” and “drug dealers,” see articles dating back to President Donald Trump’s first campaign speeches, e.g., Gabbatt, “Donald Trump’s tirade on Mexico’s ‘drugs and rapists’ outrages US Latinos” and Phillips, “‘They’re rapists.’ President Trump’s campaign launch speech two years later, annotated.”

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from Gath in 2 Sam 15:19–22. As discussed by archaeologists and biblical scholars (myself included), literary depictions of more malleable borders and positive social-political relationships between Judah and Gath may more accurately represent the arguably “entangled” cultural identities of the Iron Age Shephelah than biblical depictions of antagonistic relations and confrontation. 4 As a result of the archaeological portrait, textual scholars have proposed that positive textual depictions of David and Gath must be relatively early, dating no more than a century or so after Gath’s destruction in the late ninth-century BCE, thus reflecting earlier memories of a time when Gath was a powerful player in the southern Levant. 5 My goal in this paper is to complicate this argument about the relationship between “memory” and “writing” to propose that textual depictions of cooperative cross-cultural relationships need not be as early as some scholars would suggest. Instead, I propose that the dialogue between David and Ittai depends upon an earlier, brief allusion to David and Ittai’s relationship in 2 Sam 18:2 and could date as late as the postexilic period. While this dating is partially in line with the view of some scholars (though I do not propose that the text must date as late as the exilic or postexilic periods) my reasoning for the direction of dependency is distinct, utilizing diachronic as well as synchronic methodologies that include attention to intertextual comparisons and the history of interpretation. 4

5

On the term “entanglement of identities,” see Maeir and Hitchcock, “The Appearance, Formation and Transformation of Philistine Culture,” 150. The archaeological portrait of the Shephelah is complex and distinct from site-to-site: places like Beth-Shemesh and Lachish appear to have thrived consistently through the tenth-eighth centuries as Judah’s western border towns, while sites running ever-so-slightly west along the base of the Judean hills, including Tel Zayit, Timnah (Tel Batash) and Gath (Tell eṣ-Ṣafi) reflect an arguably changing degree of impact between Judah and Philistia prior to Sennacherib’s campaign. Yet there is no clear consensus on the relationship between the material evidence and cultural reality. See, for example, Bunimovitz and Lederman, “Archaeology of a Border Community,” 40–62; articles in Lipschits and Maeir, The Shephelah During the Iron Age; Tappy, “Tel Zayit and the Tel Zayit Abecedary in Their Regional Context,” 1–44; and Maeir and Hitchcock, “The Appearance, Formation and Transformation of Philistine Culture,” 149–62. See also Wylie, “‘He Shall Deliver My People from the Hand of the Philistines,’” 308–84. On the question of the relationship between “memory” and biblical writing more generally and in relation to Gath, see the careful discussion in Pioske, “Material Culture and Making Visible,” 16–133; and Pioske, Memory in a Time of Prose, 85–133. See also Dietrich, “David and the Philistines,” 84 and 93–94; Na’aman, “In Search of Reality Behind the Account of David’s Wars with Israel’s Neighbors,” 200–24; Finkelstein, “Geographical and Historical Realities Behind the Earliest Layer in the David story,” 134–39; and Edenburg, “Notes on the Origin of the Biblical Tradition Regarding Achish King of Gath,” 37. Na’aman writes (in reaction to those who date the “history” of the monarchy to the Persian period or later): “Inventing a historical environment that has nothing in common with the reality of the time of the author seems so unlikely that the assumption that the history of the United Monarchy was first composed in the Persian or Hellenistic periods must be considered untenable” (“In Search of Reality Behind the Account of David’s Wars with Israel’s Neighbors,” 203).

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To be more specific, it seems to me that 2 Sam 15:19–22 invites a comparison with the dialogue between Ruth and Naomi in Ruth 1:8–18, a rare depiction of a Moabite’s loyalty to a Judahite family that scholars increasingly locate in the exilic or post-exilic periods, after the conquest of Moab by Babylon (though it need not date so late; see the discussion below). In addition, in the first “rewritten” rendering of 2 Samuel in the first-century Jewish Antiquities, 6 Josephus preserves the positive, loyal relationship between David and Ittai. Elsewhere, Josephus neutralizes more negative constructions of the Philistines as “other,” likely to emphasize the inclusivity of Judaism and the success of the early monarchy. Drawing the evidence together, I propose that the dialogue between David and Ittai underscores the complex, creative dynamic between memory, writing and reinterpretation in demonstrating how more porous literary constructions of borders and identities in the David material need not be “early,” even if such depictions arguably reflect the archaeological data of an earlier period. Rather, such depictions of open (or nonexistent) borders and positive intercultural relations may also be quite late, perhaps constructed long after the “other” exists or is viewed as a potential threat, perhaps drawn in relation to older texts, and always created for current, political or ideological reasons.

2.

David and Ittai: The Text

David and Ittai: 2 Sam 15:19–22 and 18:2 MT

19

‫ואמר המלך אל־אתי הגתי‬ ‫למה תלך גם־אתה אתנו‬ ‫שׁוב ושׁב עם־המלך‬ ‫כי־נכרי אתה‬ ‫וגם־גלה אתה‬ ‫למקומך‬

‫ תמול בואך‬20 ‫והיום אנועך עמנו ללכת‬ ‫ואני הולך על אשׁר־אני הולך‬ ‫שׁוב והשׁב את־אהיך עמך‬ [‫]ויהוה יעשׂה עמך‬ ‫חסד ואמת‬

6 7 8

MT Translation 19 Then the king said to Ittai the Gittite, “Why are you also coming with us? Return and stay with the king; for you are a foreigner, and also an exile from your home.

You came only yesterday, and shall I today make you wander about with us, while I go wherever I can? Go back, and take your kinsfolk with you; [and may the lord show you] 8 steadfast love and faithfulness.” 20

Jewish Antiquities Translation 7 7.200 But he persuaded Abiathar and Zadok, the high priests, who had determined to go away with him, as also all the Levites, who were with the ark, to stay behind, as hoping that God would deliver him without its removal; but he charged them to let him know privately how all things went on; and he had their sons, Ahimaaz the son of Zadok, and Jonathan the son of Abiathar, for faithful ministers 7.201

On the term “rewritten scripture” see the discussion and genealogy of scholarship in Sterling, “The Invisible Presence,” 105. Translation a combination of my own and Whiston. This phrase was likely lost in the MT through haplography; I have reconstructed it based on the LXX, where it reads: “and the Lord will do mercy and truth with you” (καὶ Κύριος ποιήσει μετὰ σοῦ ἔλεος καὶ ἀλήθειαν). The full MT reading is therefore: ‫ויהוה יעשׂה עמך חסד ואמת‬. Most contem-

Ally or Enemy?

215 But Ittai answered the king, “As Yhwh lives, and as my lord the king lives, wherever my lord the king may be, whether for death or for life, there also your servant will be.”

21

‫ ויען אתי את־המלך ואמר‬21 ‫חי־יהוה‬ ‫וחי אדני המלך‬ ‫כי אם־במקום אשׁר יהיה־שׁם‬ ‫אדני המלך אם־למות אם־לחיים‬ ‫כי־שׁם יהיה עבדך‬

David said to Ittai, “Go then, march on.” So Ittai the Gittite marched on, with all his men and all the little ones who were with him.

in all things; but Ittai the Gittite went out with him whether David would let him or not, for he would have persuaded him to stay, and on that account he appeared the more friendly to him.

22

‫ ויאמר דוד אל־אתי‬22 ‫לך ועבר‬ ‫ויעבר אתי הגתי‬ ‫וכל־אנשׁיו וכל־הטף‬ ‫אשׁר אתי‬ ‫ וישׁלח דוד עת־העם‬2a ‫השׁלשׁית ביד־יואב‬ ‫והשׁלשׁית ביד אבישׁי בן־צרויה‬ ‫אחי יואב‬ ‫והשׁלשׁית ביד אתי הגתי‬

David sent out the troops, one-third under the command of Joab, one-third under the command of Joab’s brother Abishai son of Zeruiah, and one-third under the command of Ittai the Gittite.

2a

7:233 and when David had counted his followers, and found them to be about four thousand, he decided not to stay until Absalom attacked him, but set over his men captains of thousands, and captains of hundreds, and divided them into three parts; one part he committed to Joab, the next to Abishai, Joab’s brother, and the third part he entrusted to Ittai, David’s companion and friend, and one who came from the city Gath.

We enter into the exchange between David and Ittai when David departs from Jerusalem in 2 Sam 15:17–18, in flight from his son Absalom. He leaves with those 600 men who had accompanied David from Gath in 1 Samuel 27, who are described as “all the Cherethites, all the Pelethites, and all the Gittites.” 9 David then asks Ittai why he, a newly-arrived “foreigner” (‫ )נכרי‬and “exile” (‫ )גלה‬from his country or “place” (‫)מקום‬, would commit to travel with David and his company. No, David urges Ittai in v. 19, stay with “the king” (Absalom). Why would he make Ittai “wander about” (‫)נוע‬, when David himself must go wherever he must in his flight from Jerusalem? No, “turn back and turn back your brothers with you,” states David, “and may Yhwh show you steadfast love and faithful-

9

porary English translations (e.g. the NRSV, the NAB) retain the LXX version. See McCarter’s discussion on issues of haplography in the MT account (II Samuel, 365). Nowhere else do we see this combination of identities together in the Bible. Verse 18 depends upon and reminds us of various instances in the Saul-David material in which David similarly travels with his “600 men” (e.g. 1 Sam 23:23; 25:13; 27:2; 30:9). Though outside the bounds of this discussion, v. 18 also contains notable comparisons with the LXX. First, the LXX adds details to the list of those who leave Jerusalem with the king, beginning with the “Cherethites” and “Pelethites” who, as LXX states, can be found “standing beside the olive grove in the wilderness” as the king leaves. According to McCarter, this obscure reference anticipates v. 23, in which the king crosses the Kidron Valley and all the people cross to the wilderness (II Samuel, 364). Reversing the description of those who leave (from “people” then “servants” in the MT to “servants” then “people” in the LXX), the LXX then adds to the list of those who accompany David as he departs the city: “all the prominent men and all the warriors.”

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ness” (v. 20). 10 Ittai then pledges loyalty to David, stating: “As Yhwh lives and as my lord the king lives, wherever my lord the king may be, whether for death or for life, there your servant will be” (v. 21). David then allows Ittai to continue with him. Later, Ittai’s loyalty is confirmed when he is entrusted with one-third of David’s troops in the fight against Absalom in 2 Sam 18:2, alongside David’s army commander Joab and Joab’s brother. I view 18:2 as the earlier witness to the relationship between David and Ittai, which I will explain momentarily. Ittai and David’s exchange is often compared to the exchange between Ruth, Naomi and Orpah in Ruth 1:8–18, in which Naomi implores first both daughtersin-law, then Ruth alone, to “turn back” (‫ )שׁוב‬to Moab rather than follow her to Judah. 11 Releasing her daughters-in-law from their obligations to her, Naomi prays that “Yhwh may do ‫ חסד‬with you, as you have done with the dead and with me” (Ruth 1:8). Similar to David’s prayer that Yhwh “surely do ‫ ”חסד‬for Ittai (2 Sam 15:20), the blessing comes as Naomi prepares to depart permanently from the two women. 12 When they press her further, she tells them to remain in Moab rather than return with her, given her inability to offer them future security (vv. 11–13). Ruth then commits herself to Naomi in a long, poetic statement of loyalty (vv. 16–17). Ruth will go where Naomi goes, lodge where Naomi lodges, die where Naomi dies; Naomi’s people and her God will become Ruth’s people and God. Ruth’s words echo the language of political treaties or contracts between two people unrelated by blood; we see similar language not only in Ittai’s response to David in 2 Sam 15:21 but elsewhere in the historical books (for example, in the pre-war agreements between Judah and Israel in 1 Kings 22:4 and 2 Kings 3:7). Yet Ruth and Ittai’s oaths transcend the vows of political treaties, for both are foreigners who nonetheless call upon Yhwh, the God of Israel as their witness, and both pledge their loyalty not temporarily but until death

10

11

12

One may choose to translate the statement as, “may the Lord surely show you steadfast love.” Katharine Doob Sakenfeld has argued that when the terms ‫ חסד‬and ‫ אמת‬are attested together, ‫ אמת‬serves as an “optional emphasis” on the concern or statement that ‫ חסד‬will be done to the individual (The Meaning of Hesed in the Hebrew Bible, 34–35). Gordon R. Clark proposes that the two terms emphasize not the concern of one delivering the blessing, but rather the faithfulness or trustworthiness of the recipient. In the case of David and Ittai, David’s statement demonstrates the “unwavering, enduring, reliable commitment” between the two (The Word Hesed in the Hebrew Bible, 254–55). See Sakenfeld, The Meaning of Hesed in the Hebrew Bible, 108. A third example of what Sakenfeld terms a “blessing/benedictory use of ḥesed” is in 2 Sam 2:5–6, when David blesses the men of Jabesh-Gilead for their act of faithfulness (‫)חסד‬. The dialogue between Ruth and Naomi repeats the term ‫ שׁוב‬seven times to reflect movement forward to Judah and back to Moab. David uses the term three times in telling Ittai to “go back” to Jerusalem (2 Sam 15:19–20). Sakenfeld has argued that such uses of ‫ חסד‬as a blessing and benediction transfers the human responsibility of “doing ḥesed” to the divine and serves as a technical way of bringing a relationship to a close (The Meaning of Hesed in the Hebrew Bible, 108).

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(2 Sam 15:21; Ruth 1:16–17). 13 And in their return prayers, Naomi and David affirm that Yhwh’s ḥesed “transcends the borders of Israel” and is available to non-Israelites. 14 Although the dating of Ruth is far from certain, scholars have increasingly located it within postexilic debates about inclusion and intermarriage with nonIsraelites. In this case, the book of Ruth would postdate the fall of Moab to Babylon in the early sixth century and reflect the scribal construction of a later, idealized portrait of earlier Moabite-Judahite relationships. If, however, we were to date the text to the pre-exilic period, then the situation of Moab (and potential Moabite-Judahite relationships) would have been quite different, for the text would have been written during a time when Moabite-Judahite relationships were still “live.” Given the likelihood of a long transmission process, one might argue that such an idealized depiction was important and malleable enough of a written tradition to be retained through distinct cultural and political contexts. 15 Notably, of the many references to Moab in the Bible (162 total) the book of Ruth is the only consistently positive depiction of intercultural relations between Moab and Judah. The ease of travel between the two communities, and the seeming lack of hostility in either land towards immigrants from the other, suggests that social and political borders were more permeable than one might suppose from most biblical portrayals. We find further echoes of such permeable boundaries, even blood ties, between Moabites and Israelites in three additional texts: 1 Sam 22:3–5, when David entrusts his family to the king of Moab while on the run from Saul; Deut 2:9, when Israel is forbidden to bother Moab or engage with them in battle because they share a common ancestry; and Deut 23:3–6, which forbids Moabites and Ammonites from admittance into the “assembly of Yhwh” up to the tenth generation for previous wrongdoings toward Israel. Exclusion to the tenth generation is a punishment, but it is not permanent exclusion. 16 Like these rare, alternative biblical descriptions of relationships between Israel and Moab, David and Ittai’s encounter in 2 Sam 15:19–22 is not the only 13

14 15

16

According to Mark Smith, Ruth’s words establish “a family relationship with Naomi that transcends the death of the male who has connected them, and in fact this relationship represents a family tie closer than that expressed by the formal status of formal in-laws” (“Your People Shall Be My People,” 247); see also Laffey and Leonard-Fleckman, Ruth, 42. See also 1 Sam 29:6 (also 29:9, to a lesser degree), where Achish invokes the name of Yhwh. Laffey and Leonard-Fleckman, Ruth, 30; also Lau, “Another Postcolonial Reading of the Book of Ruth,” 28. See the discussion in Laffey and Leonard-Fleckman, Ruth, liv–lxii. The book does contain four “Aramaisms,” linguistic markers that occur only in the exilic and postexilic periods, though this alone does not disprove the existence of an earlier tale that could have been later reworked. In this commentary, Laffey argues for a post-exilic dating of the book, while Leonard-Fleckman makes the pre-exilic argument. Cf. Grohman, “Moab,” 414.

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positive or cooperative portrayal of David and Gath in 1–2 Samuel. A number of diachronically-minded scholars – including, for example, Walter Dietrich, P. Kyle McCarter, Dan Pioske, Sara Kipfer – have viewed such portrayals as “early” and more historically accurate depictions for reasons that I explained at the outset of this paper. These depictions would include, for example, 1 Sam 27:2–7; 2 Sam 6:10–12; and 2 Sam 15:18–22. These scholars argue that while earlier David-Gath material need not include only positive interactions, representations of borders and relations between David and Gath would more likely become sharper and more antagonistic over time in relation to political motivations and concerns to protect David’s reputation, not less so. 17 While I agree that such cooperate cross-cultural depictions may indeed reflect an earlier historical reality, I disagree that more fluid depictions of the social and political landscape between David and Gath necessarily equate to earlier writing. Such a view reflects a typology and a global literary-historical conclusion for dating a wide array of texts, rather than an examination of each text on a case-by-case basis and without predisposition. It also reveals a problematic, short-term concept of the process of recording, memorializing and later textual reworking and adaption. Given what we know about the complexities of orality, writing and transmission, I am increasingly wary of the notion that texts contain some pure, unadulterated and clearly-datable “core” (as much as we may perceive discernible layers of writing and revision). 18 And I wonder: is there really no reason for which later writers and scribes would seek to depict a more positive cross-cultural relationship between the monarchy and Gath? The answer to such a question may be found by examining the history of interpretation, particularly Josephus’ first-century CE Jewish Antiquities retelling of the Bible, or what he calls his “translated” account of history (μεθερμηνεύω). 19 Although the earliest witnesses to the text of Samuel are those from Qumran

17

18

19

See Dietrich, “David and the Philistines: Literature and History,” 89–91 and 93–98; McCarter, I Samuel, 416; Pioske, Memory in a Time of Prose, 85–133 and “Material Culture and Making Visible,” 3–27; Kipfer “‘The Land ‘from Telam on the way to Shur and on to the land of Egypt’”; also Alter, Ancient Israel, 400; Vermeylen, La loi du plus fort, 162; Halpern, David’s Secret Demons, 288–89; Knapp, Royal Apologetic in the Ancient Near East, 131 n. 114; Wylie, “‘He Shall Deliver My People from the Hand of the Philistines,’” 329–84. As McCarter once wrote in relation to David’s crossing over to Gath in 1 Samuel 27, this encounter would be viewed later as an “embarrassing” [italics his] and “ineradicable element of the [David] story,” one that no later writer sympathetic to David would have invented (I Samuel, 416). Meanwhile, Daniel Pioske writes that such depictions of cooperative relations would not be invented, as they only “complicate” the story the biblical scribes are attempting to tell (Memory in a Time of Prose, 143). See the discussion and bibliography in Leonard-Fleckman, “All the ‫( ”גבול ישׂראל‬forthcoming); see also Wollenberg’s exploration of how the biblical text bears the “literary scars of historical corruption and reconstruction” (“The Book that Changed,” 159). Josephus claims to be translating from the Hebrew (Ant. 1.5; 10.218), though it is clear he works from a Greek or multiple Greek texts (cf. Ulrich, “Josephus’ Biblical Text for the Books of Samuel,” 81–96; Sterling, “The Invisible Presence,” 105).

Ally or Enemy?

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(4Q Samuela,b,c), the Antiquities is the oldest retelling of the books of Samuel. 20 Josephus often condenses biblical descriptions in his version of events, including that of David’s departure from Jerusalem, which he reduces from fourteen to three verses (MT and LXX vv. 16–29; Ant. 7.199–201). According to Josephus, before David departs, he first emphasizes Absalom’s madness and commits himself to God, then leaves his ten concubines in the palace and flees the city, accompanied by an indeterminate “multitude” (πλῆθος) and six hundred men from Gath (Ant. 7.199; cf. MT/LXX vv. 16–18). Josephus then reverses the order of exchanges as preserved in MT/LXX vv. 19–29, likely to elevate the importance of the priests Abiathar and Zadok, who appear after Ittai in the MT and LXX accounts. First, David convinces the priests to stay behind in the city (Ant. 7.200–201a; MT/LXX vv. 24–29). He then relays Ittai’s interaction with David in an abbreviated, single-verse version of the biblical dialogue: Ittai the Gittite “went out with David whether David would let him or not, for he [David] would have persuaded him to stay, and on that account he appeared the more friendly to him” (Ant. 7.201b; cf. MT/LXX vv. 19– 21). Josephus thus excises the dialogue between David and Ittai to remove excessive direct speech, a writing tactic he utilizes throughout the Antiquities. 21 In doing so, he diminishes the power of the exchange as we see in the MT and LXX versions. Most notable, however, is not the reference to Ittai when David leaves the city, but rather Josephus’ later explanation of David’s relationship with Ittai when the king places his troops under the command of Joab, Abishai, and Ittai in the battle against Absalom. There, Josephus goes beyond the brief reference in the MT and LXX to explain why David would entrust Ittai with his troops alongside kin; the reason is that Ittai was “David’s companion (συνήθης) and friend (φίλος), and one who came from the city of Gath” (Ant. 7.233; cf. 2 Sam 18:2). Of note is the expression συνήθης, which refers literally to one who lives with someone else or is habituated/accustomed to that person. Josephus therefore underscores a trust and loyalty between the two men that has deep roots beyond the present situation. What does this first-century CE interpretation reveal about the David-Gath relationship? First, once a tradition is recorded about a place and its people, it can be remembered, recorded, and rewritten, even hundreds of years later. Second, Josephus employs several strategies in his rewriting of biblical references of Gath. In the case of 2 Sam 15:19–22, he preserves the reference to David and Ittai yet reduces the power of the Bible’s literary portrayal of loyalty by removing the direct speech. He does the same throughout the much-abbreviated version of the book of Ruth, including the opening dialogue in which Ruth commits 20

21

Although Josephus used a text “intimately related” to 4QSama (see Ulrich, “Josephus’ Biblical Text for the Books of Samuel,” 93), the 4QSam fragments are in bad shape and do not contain the verses under discussion here (2 Sam 15:19–22). According to Sterling, Josephus often removes “extensive use of direct speech” because it conflicts with the “historian’s perspective” (“The Invisible Presence,” 128).

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herself to Naomi (Ant. 5.318–37). 22 Yet in the case of 2 Sam 18:2, Josephus enhances the biblical account through an added detail regarding David’s friendship with Ittai. Finally, in a separate story that involves a different Gittite, a certain Obed-Edom in 2 Samuel 6, Josephus follows the Chronicler’s version of events as opposed to Samuel’s by transforming Obed-Edom from a Gittite into a Levite and a “righteous man” (Ant. 7:83; cf. 2 Sam 6:10–11; 1 Chron 15:18, 21, 24; 16:5, 38; 26:4, 8, 15; 2 Chron 25:24). In the case of Obed-Edom, the issue is not that he is a Gittite, but rather the problematic depiction of David leaving Israel’s holiest object with a non-Israelite. 23 So, to summarize: Josephus preserves but condenses the interaction between David and Ittai once (2 Sam 15:19–22; Ant. 7.201b) and he embellishes it on another occasion (2 Sam 18:2; Ant. 7.233). In a separate account of another Gittite who guards the ark, Josephus follows the Chronicler’s alternative version rather than that of 2 Samuel. Equally pertinent is Josephus’ ongoing representation of the so-called Philistines, the group most closely affiliated with Gath (arguably) and the stereotypical “other” in the Bible. The Philistines appear 115 times in the Antiquities, fewer than half the number of biblical attestations. Throughout, Josephus’ depiction of the Philistines is largely neutral and free of contempt, in contrast to many of the Bible’s depictions. In his study of these depictions, Michael Avioz argues that at such a late date, Josephus has no reason to degrade the Philistines because they were no longer a live threat. Rather, “Josephus sought to preserve Judaism as a religion that does not shy away from other religions.” 24 In other words, Josephus’ ideological goal for minimizing biblical depictions of animosity was to underscore the openness of Judaism, and perhaps even the political and diplomatic adeptness of its early monarchy. This portrait of Ittai and David, then, in light of the general portrait of the “other” in Josephus’ rewriting, suggests that records of positive, cross-cultural encounters and social-political relations are not relegated solely to the earliest witnesses about David’s kingship or monarchy in general. In fact, once a place ceases to be a powerhouse in the political landscape, and hence threatening in some real or perceived way, intercultural relations may be idealized and exaggerated as befits a later agenda. Returning to the Bible, like Naomi and Ruth’s dialogue in Ruth, David and Ittai’s dialogue in 2 Sam 15:19–22 is the most exaggerated of encounters between David and a Gittite. The exchange also lends disproportional weight to Ittai in the tale of David’s flight across the Jordan; unlike other characters who appear 22

23 24

On Josephus’ account of the book of Ruth, see Sterling “The Invisible Presence,” 104–72; also Levison, “Josephus’s Version of Ruth,” 31–44 and Feldman, “Reflections on John R. Levison’s ‘Josephus’s Version of Ruth,’” 54–52. Josephus’ recounting of Ruth’s refusal to leave Naomi is similar to his description of Ittai’s refusal to leave David: “but she [Naomi] took Ruth along with her, as not to be persuaded to stay behind her, but would take her fortune with her, whatsoever it should prove” (Ant. 5:322b). Cf. Avioz, Josephus’ Interpretation of the Books of Samuel, 107. Avioz, “The Philistines in Josephus’ Writings,” 153–54.

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in the tale, Ittai has no backstory in 1–2 Samuel, and appears elsewhere only in 2 Sam 18:2. 25 Recent, mainly Continental, scholars have dated the entirety of David’s journey to Mahanaim in 2 Sam 15:17–17:29, including David’s encounter with Ittai, to the exilic or postexilic periods. To these scholars, David’s Transjordanian journey reveals an exilic or postexilic gaze back on the David material. They limit an earlier, core account (prior to the time of two kingdoms) to 15:1– 6, 13 and 18:1–19:9, which they locate close to Jerusalem. 26 Others, such as Jeremy Hutton, agree with these limits of an earlier core, dating much of it to the tenth-ninth centuries, yet discerning several additional redactional layers of the broader Mahanaim journey in chs. 15–19. 27 In the case of 2 Sam 15:19–22, Jacques Vermeylen has suggested that it draws from the reference to Ittai’s military leadership in 2 Sam 18:2 to reinforce not only Ittai’s remarkable loyalty to David, but the overall positive image of foreign mercenaries. He locates this exchange within his Solomonic redaction. 28 I agree that 2 Sam 18:2 represents an earlier version of David and Ittai’s relationship, upon which 2 Sam 15:9–22 depends and is added later, alongside the Transjordanian journey. I would not be so bold as to date this later addition as early as the tenth-ninth centuries, or to relegate it solely to the postexilic period. Yet the exchange parallels the dialogue between Ruth and Naomi, which could date to the exilic or postexilic period, by which time Moab had become largely depopulated and was no longer Israel’s formidable eastern neighbor. Like the story of Ruth, I propose, the dialogue between David and Ittai could reflect a much later, idealized notion of the relationship between David and Gath. Perhaps such a notion retains a memory of a time prior to Gath’s destruction in the mid-ninth century, when boundaries between Gath and Judah, or Gath and Israel, were permeable and open. Or perhaps it draws from the story of David’s stay in Gath in 1 Samuel 27. Perhaps, as Walter Dietrich suggests in his response to this paper, the dialogue between Naomi and Ruth depends upon and was shaped by the dialogue between David and Ittai. 29 Yet one could also argue for the reversed direction of dependence, depending on one’s dating proclivities. Whatever the case may be, the dialogue, with its echoes in Ruth and its retelling in Josephus, demonstrates both the complexity of memory, writing and transmission and the evolving, shifting portrayals of the social and political landscape. I propose that the exchange between David and Gath reinforces 25 26

27 28 29

See the discussion in Begg, “David’s Flight from Jerusalem according to Josephus,” 7. See, e.g., Kratz, The Composition of the Narrative Books of the Old Testament, 176–86; Aurelius, “Davids Unschuld,” 396–440; Fischer, “Flucht und Heimkehr Davids als integraler Rahmen der Abschalomerzählung,” 43–69; Adam, “Motivik, Figuren und Konzeption der Erzählung vom Absalomaufstand,” 194–95; Römer, The So-Called Deuteronomistic History, 177–79; and Rudnig, Davids Thron, 234–79 and 330–31. See also the discussion in Leonard-Fleckman, The House of David, 119–22, 132–37, and 142–44. Hutton, The Transjordanian Palimpsest, 221–22; Vermeylen, La Loi Du Plus Fort, 400–401. Vermeylen, La Loi Du Plus Fort, 352–53. Dietrich, “The Books of Samuel and the Monarchy,” 328.

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Judaism’s openness and demonstrates the cooperation between Judah and its proximate neighbors. Although the stories of David and Ruth represent a time with no empire, if written under an empire (perhaps the Persians, perhaps the Assyrians), this cooperation and lack of antagonism between Judah and Gath, or Judah and Moab, would demonstrate collaboration among peoples who together unite against a single antagonist. To return to the theme of this volume, to understand the response to monarchy (or politics more broadly) in 1–2 Samuel is to understand that there is no single response to monarchy, and that the entangled, complex responses are historically rooted in the preoccupations of writers whose concerns change over time. Part of this entanglement is demonstrated in the varied textual portrayals of people, intercultural relations, and political-social borders. And I believe this is where the texts can speak to us. The books of Samuel remind us that our own modern historical reconstructions are also likely messier, less precise, and given over to more assumptions than what we sometimes realize, as are our contemporary constructions of the political and social landscape. Constructions of landscape are malleable; we can equally construct and deconstruct them for politically-motivated and ideological purposes. The historical accuracy of our own constructions about the past, not to mention our perceptions of the present, vary, and they often falsify, minimize or ignore the nuances and complexities of identities, communities and real relationships. Examining the Bible’s mixed constructions are a call to self-examination, about our perceptions of the ancient world as well as the present, and to remember that identities, cultures, and borders are not fixed or objective phenomena. They are malleable, relative, and often drawn in relation to power, politics, and subjective ideas of self and other.

Bibliography Adam, Klaus-Peter. “Motivik, Figuren und Konzeption der Erzählung vom Absalomaufstand.” Pages 183–212 in Die deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerke: Redaktions- und religionsgeschichtliche Perspektiven zur “Deuteronomismus”-Diskussion in Tora und Vorderen Propheten. Edited by Markus Witte et al. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 365. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2006. Alter, Robert. Ancient Israel. The Former Prophets: Joshua, Judges, Samuel and Kings. A Translation with Commentary. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2013. Aurelius, Erik. “Davids Unschuld: Die Hofgeschichte und Psalm 7.” Pages 391–412 in Gott und Mensch im Dialog: Festschrift für Otto Kaiser zum 80. Geburtstag. Edited by Markus Witte. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 345. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2004. Avioz, Michael. Josephus’ Interpretation of the Books of Samuel. Library of Second Temple Studies 86. London: Bloomsbury T & T Clark, 2015. ________. “The Philistines in Josephus’ Writings.” Theologische Zeitschrift 71 (2015): 144–55. Begg, Christopher T. “David’s Flight from Jerusalem according to Josephus.” HTS Teologiese Studies/Theological Studies 62 (2006): 1–22.

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Blitzer, Jonathan. “Donald Trump, the Migrant Caravan, and a Manufactured Crisis at the U.S. Border.” Online. The New Yorker. November 14 (2018): https://www.newyorker.com/news/ news-desk/donald-trump-the-migrant-caravan-and-a-manufactured-crisis-at-the-us-border. Bunimovitz, Shlomo and Lederman, Zvi. “Archaeology of a Border Community.” Pages 40–62 in Tel Beth-Shemesh, A Border Community in Judah: Renewed Excavations 1990–2000: The Iron Age. Edited by Shlomo Bunimovitz and Zvi Lederman. Vol. 1. SMNIA 34. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2016. Clark, Gordon R. The Word Hesed in the Hebrew Bible. JSOTSup 157. Sheffield: JSOT, 1993. Dietrich, Walter. “David and the Philistines: Literature and History.” Pages 79–98 in The Ancient Near East in the 12th–10th Centuries BCE: Culture and History. Proceedings of the International Conference Held at the University of Haifa, 2–5 May, 2010. Edited by Gershon Galil, et al. AOAT 392. Münster: UgaritVerlag, 2012. ________. “The Books of Samuel and the Monarchy: Response to the Contribution of this Volume, Aberdeen, 2019.” Pages 321–330 in The Book of Samuel and Its Response to Monarchy. Edited by Sara Kipfer and Jeremy M. Hutton. BWANT 228. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2021. Edenburg, Cynthia. “Notes on the Origin of the Biblical Tradition Regarding Achish King of Gath.” VT 61 (2011): 34–38. Feldman, L. H. “Reflections on John R. Levison’s ‘Josephus’s Version of Ruth,’” JSP 8 (1991): 45–52. Finkelstein, Israel. “Geographical and Historical Realities Behind the Earliest Layer in the David story.” SJOT 27 (2013): 131–50. Fischer, Alexander A. “Flucht und Heimkehr Davids als integraler Rahmen der Abschalomerzählung.” Pages 42–69 in Ideales Königtum: Studien zu David und Salomo. Edited by Rüdiger Lux. Arbeiten zur Bibel und ihrer Geschichte 16. Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2005. Gabbatt, Adam. “Donald Trump’s tirade on Mexico’s ‘drugs and rapists’ outrages US Latinos.” Online. The Guardian. June 16 (2015): https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2015/jun/16/donaldtrump-mexico-presidential-speech-latino-hispanic. Grohman, E. D. “Moab.” In IDB 3. Edited by George Arthur Buttrick, et al. Pages 409–19. Nashville; New York: Abingdon, 1962. Halpern, Baruch. David’s Secret Demons: Messiah, Murderer, Traitor, King. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001. Hutton, Jeremy. The Transjordanian Palimpsest: The Overwritten Texts of Personal Exile and Transformation in the Deuteronomistic History. BZAW 296. Berlin; New York: de Gruyter, 2009. Josephus, Flavius. The Works of Flavius Josephus. Complete and Unabridged. New Updated Edition. Translated by William Whiston. Peabody, Massachusetts: Hendrickson, 1987. Kipfer, Sara. “‘The Land ‘from Telam on the way to Shur and on to the land of Egypt’ (1Sam 27) – Some Remarks on a Disputed Territory.” Edited by Hannes Bezzel and Reinhard G. Kratz. David in the Desert. BZAW 514. Berlin; New York: De Gruyter, forthcoming. Knapp, Andrew. Royal Apologetic in the Ancient Near East. Writings from the Ancient World Supplement Series 4. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2015. Kratz, Reinhard G. The Composition of the Narrative Books of the Old Testament. Translated by John Bowden. London: T&T Clark, 2005. Translation of Die Komposition der erzählenden Bücher des Alten Testaments. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000. Laffey, Alice L. and Mahri Leonard-Fleckman. Ruth. Wisdom Commentary 8. Collegeville: Liturgical, 2017. Lau, Peter H. W. “Another Postcolonial Reading of the Book of Ruth.” Pages 15–34 in Reading Ruth in Asia. Edited by Jione Havea and Peter H. W. Lau. IVBS 7. Atlanta: SBL Press, 2015. Leonard-Fleckman, Mahri. The House of David: Between Political Formation and Literary Revision. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2016. ________. “All the ‫גבול ישׂראל‬: Israel’s ‘Boundaries’ in David’s Wanderings.” Edited by Hannes Bezzel. David in the Desert. BZAW 514. Berlin; New York: De Gruyter, forthcoming. Levison, John R. “Josephus’s Version of Ruth.” JSP 8 (1991): 31–44. Lipschits, Oded and Maeir, Aren M. Maeir, editors. The Shephelah During the Iron Age: Recent Archaeological Studies. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2017. Maeir, Aren. “The Historical Background and Dating of Amos VI 2: An Archaeological Perspective from Tell Eṣ-Ṣâfī/Gath.” VT 54 (2004): 319–34.

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________. “Philistine Gath after 20 Years: Regional perspectives on the Iron Age at Tell eṣ-Ṣafi/Gath.” Pages 133–54 in The Shephelah during the Iron Age: Recent Archaeological Studies. Edited by Oded Lipschits and Aren M. Maeir. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2017. Maeir, Aren M. and Hitchcock, Louise A. “The Appearance, Formation and Transformation of Philistine Culture: New Perspective and New Finds.” Pages 149–62 in The Sea Peoples Up-To-Date: New Research on the Migration of Peoples in the 12th Century BCE. Edited by Peter M. Fischer and Teresa Bürge. Denkschrift Der Gesamtakademie: Contributions to the Chronology of the Eastern Mediterranean 81. Vienna: Austrian Academy of Sciences, 2017. McCarter, P. Kyle. I Samuel: A New Translation with Introduction, Notes and Commentary. AYBRL 8. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1980. ________. II Samuel: A New Translation with Introduction, Notes and Commentary. AYBRL 9. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1984. Na’aman, Nadav. “In Search of Reality Behind the Account of David’s Wars with Israel’s Neighbors.” IEJ 52/2 (2002): 200–24. Phillips, Amber. “‘They’re rapists.’ President Trump’s campaign launch speech two years later, annotated.” Online. Washington Post. June 16 (2017): https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/the-fix/wp/2017/06/16/theyre-rapists-presidents-trump-campaignlaunch-speech-two-years-later-annotated/ Pioske, Daniel. Memory in a Time of Prose: Studies in Epistemology, Hebrew Scribalism, and the Biblical Past. New York: Oxford, 2018. ________. “Material Culture and Making Visible: On the Portrayal of Philistine Gath in the Book of Samuel.” JSOT 43 (2018): 3–27. Römer, Thomas. The So-Called Deuteronomistic History: A Sociological, Historical and Literary Introduction. London: T&T Clark, 2005. Rudnig, Thilo A. Davids Thron: Redaktionskritische Studien zur Geschichte von der Thronnachfolge Davids. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 358. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2006. Sakenfeld, Katherine D. The Meaning of Hesed in the Hebrew Bible: A New Inquiry. HSM 17. Missoula: Scholars, 1978. Smith, Adam T. The Political Landscape: Constellations of Authority in Early Complex Polities. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003. Smith, Mark S. “Your People Shall Be My People: Family and Covenant in Ruth 1:16–17.” CBQ 69 (2007): 242–58. Sterling, Gregory E. “The Invisible Presence: Josephus’s Retelling of Ruth.” Pages 104–171 in Understanding Josephus: Seven Perspectives. Edited by Stave Mason. JSPSup 32. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998. Tappy, Ron E. “Tel Zayit and the Tel Zayit Abecedary in Their Regional Context.” Pages 1–44 in Literate Culture and Tenth-Century Canaan: The Tel Zayit Abecedary in Context. Edited by Ron E. Tappy and P. Kyle McCarter. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2008. Ulrich, Eugene. “Josephus’ Biblical Text for the Books of Samuel.” Pages 81–96 in Josephus, The Bible, and History. Edited by Louis H. Feldman and Gohei Hata. Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1989. Vermeylen, Jacques. La loi du plus fort: Histoire de la rédaction des récits davidiques de 1 Samuel 8 à 1 Rois 2. BEThL 154. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2000. Wollenberg, Rebecca Scharbach. “The Book That Changed: Narratives of Ezran Authorship as Late Antique Biblical Criticism.” JBL 138/1 (2019): 143–60. Wright, Jacob L. “Between Nation and State in the Book of Samuel: The Case of Ittai the Gittite.” Pages 343–52 in Making a Difference: Essays on the Bible and Judaism in Honor of Tamara Cohn Eskenazi. Edited by David J. A. Clines, Kent Harold Richards, Jacob L. Wright. Hebrew Bible Monographs 49. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2012. Wylie, Jonathon. “‘He Shall Deliver My People from the Hand of the Philistines’: The Theological and Political Uses of the Philistines in the Books of Samuel.” PhD diss., University of WisconsinMadison, 2018.

An Unapologetic Apology The David Story as a Complex Response to Monarchy Benjamin J. M. Johnson

Summary It is common to view the story of David, at least the first part of the story in 1 Samuel 16 – 2 Samuel 5 (give or take), as an ancient Near Eastern apology defending David’s ascension to the throne. However, it is also not uncommon to read the text as it stands and see in the David story at least a complex portrayal of Israel’s founding monarch, if not a completely negative one. The present essay will argue that both of these perspectives have a basis in the text of Samuel. The thesis of this essay is that the story of David in its ‘current literary form’ is not purely critical of David nor purely defensive of him. Instead, what we have in the David story could be described as an unapologetic apology that, on the one hand, defends David and retains him as the hero of the story, while, on the other hand, being fairly critical of him. This complex portrayal allows the David story to be of continued value as it is not simply propagandistic literature but a sophisticated reflection on the character who founded and represented the monarchy, and is thus a sophisticated reflection on the nature of human monarchy as an institution. Üblicherweise wird die David-Erzählung, zumindest der erste Teil der Erzählung in 1 Samuel 16 – 2 Samuel 5, als eine altorientalische Apologie betrachtet, die Davids Thronbesteigung verteidigt. Allerdings wird der Text gelegentlich auch so gelesen, dass die David-Erzählung eine zumindest komplexe Beschreibung des ersten Monarchen Israels ist, vielleicht sogar eine völlig negative. Der vorliegende Beitrag sieht für beide Perspektiven eine Grundlage im Text der Samuelbücher. Es wird entsprechend die These vertreten, dass die David-Erzählung in ihrer „gegenwärtigen literarischen Form“ weder rein kritisch noch rein verteidigend gegenüber David ist. Vielmehr könnte sie als eine unapologetische Apologie beschrieben werden, die einerseits David in Schutz nimmt und ihn als Helden der Geschichte festhält, ihn andererseits aber ziemlich kritisch betrachtet. Dank dieser komplexen Darstellung Davids ist die David-Erzählung von bleibendem Wert, da sie nicht einfach nur propagandistische Literatur ist, sondern auch eine differenzierte Reflexion über die Figur, die die Monarchie begründete und repräsentierte, und damit letztendlich auch eine differenzierte Reflexion über das Wesen der menschlichen Monarchie als Institution.

1.

Introduction: How Many Davids Do You See?

There is a history of being two-minded about the portrait of David in the book of Samuel. On the one hand, the story of David (especially his rise to power in 1 Samuel) looks very much like an ancient Near Eastern apology offering a

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defense of David and his rise to the throne. This has regularly been recognized by scholars, especially those with a historical interest. On the other hand, scholars with a more literary interest have tended to emphasize the way in which the narrative, rather than being defensive of David, is actually quite critical of him. As Moshe Garsiel has put it in a recent essay: Some scholars have discerned an apologetic tendency in the cycle of stories dealing with David’s rise to the monarchy, and interpret it in various ways. However, more comprehensive examination of the book of Samuel and the first two chapters of 1 Kings reveals conflicting tendencies in the stories dealing with David—admiration and glorification, apologetic and defensive approaches against accusations, bitter and open criticism of David’s sins and punishments, and subtle and concealed criticism of his behavior. These conflicting attitudes reflect an undecided author (or authors), who harbors both admiration for and criticism of David. It seems that the author (or authors) was involved emotionally with the debate regarding the riddle—who really is the true David? 1

The reality is that the text as we now have it presents a complex portrait of David that is sometimes laudatory and sometimes condemnatory. 2 As K. L. Noll has memorably put it, “David is good and evil, hot and cold, lovable and worthy of admiration, frightening in his disregard for the welfare of others. David is fully human in his anguished cry for his son, Absalom, fully monster in his written order of execution sent by the hand of Uriah.” 3 Thus, what we see, as Garsiel pointed out, is a discrepancy amongst readers to see in the David story either a propagandistic defense of David or an accusatory critique of his character. There are good reasons for seeing both emphases in the text of the David story in 1–2 Samuel. This essay will give due weight to both the positive and negative portrayals of David in 1–2 Samuel and suggest that perhaps what we have in the David story is something of an unapologetic apology, containing both a defense of David and the monarchy he represents and a realistic understanding that all human kings have feet of clay and thus should be viewed somewhat critically. The literary product that is the David story, however we got it, 4 is staggering in its complexity of the portrayal of David. It is one that lends itself to multiple ways of understanding the very nature of this literature. 1 2 3 4

Garsiel, “Book of Samuel,” 16. For a recent attempt to sketch some of the complexity of the characterization of David, see Bodner and Johnson, “David: Kaleidoscope of a King.” Noll, The Faces of David, 63. Nothing in this study presumes a particular view of the possible sources behind the text of 1– 2 Samuel. Although we will address this more below, I am sympathetic to the comments of Dietrich and Naumann, “The David-Saul Narrative,” 299, that “scholarship is in no position to really come to agreement on a single text. […] Thus, in the course of research there has emerged a lowering of expectations.” Thus, the approach of Andrew Knapp, Royal Apologetic, which speaks of “traditions” of David’s rise and reign and leaves it slightly open to what those might look like is a helpful one (see his comments on p. 161). Throughout this essay, I will refer to ‘the David story’ by which I mean the story of David as told in the book of Samuel (1 Samuel 16 – 2 Samuel 20), which most likely incorporates earlier traditions and could be stretched to include 1 Kings 1–2.

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2.

An Apology or Character Critique?

2.1

The David Story as Apology

227

For a long time scholars have read the David story in 1–2 Samuel, especially the so-called history of David’s rise in 1 Samuel 16 – 2 Samuel 5 as an example of an ancient apology. 5 This reading strategy recognizes the regularity with which the David story seems to defend David against presumed accusations. As Kyle McCarter notes in an early study, Apologetic literature by its very nature assumes a defensive attitude toward its subject matter, addressing itself to issues exposed to actual or possible public censure. This is precisely the posture of the history of David’s rise. A careful reading leads to the conclusion that the author is speaking to one possible charge of wrongdoing after another in an attempt to demonstrate David’s innocence in the series of events that led to his succession. 6

Much of the David story, especially in 1 Samuel 16 – 2 Samuel 5 has this sort of defensive feel, where the narrative is heading off possible negative suggestions about the character of David. When read this way, one can see that the David story is responding to a range of possible accusations against David. In the most recent and complete study along these lines, Andrew Knapp suggests thirteen accusations that the David story is responding to. 1. David has no right to the throne. 2. David was an outlaw and a bandit. 3. David murdered Nabal and plundered his estate. 4. David stole Ahinoam, wife of Saul. 5. David was a Philistine mercenary. 6. David was involved in the deaths of Saul and his sons. 7. David was responsible for the death of Abner. 8. David was responsible for the death of Ish-Baal. 9. David arrested Merib-Baal and gave away his estate. 10. David was involved in the death of Amnon. 11. David was responsible for the death of Absalom. 12. David was responsible for the death of Amasa. 13. David exterminated the house of Saul. 7 Knapp’s in-depth and thorough study both clearly establishes the David story as an ancient apologetic and helpfully situates it within other ancient examples of 5

6 7

Early important studies along this line include Weiser, “Die Legitimation des Königs David;” Grønbaek, Die Geschichte vom Aufstieg Davids; McCarter, “The Apology of David;” and Whitelam, “The Defence of David.” McCarter, “The Apology of David,” 499. See Knapp, Royal Apologetic, 218–42.

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apology. 8 There seems to be ample justification for this view of the David story. This is the basic understanding of 1–2 Samuel that can be seen in recent works on the historical David. On this view, we have access to the David of history because the texts that we have are so clearly defensive of David. 9 Or, in Halpern’s memorable way of putting it, “[w]e know that Samuel is accurate because it is nothing but lies.” 10 However, despite the obvious rationale for the apologetic reading of the David story, it is not without its problems. As Jacob Wright has recently argued, “[t]his approach seems reasonable enough, and not surprisingly many have embraced it. The problem is that it fails to explain the texts that are critical of David.” 11 Some of the best works that have embraced an apologetic understanding of the David story, recognize that it is not a perfectly rosy portrayal of David. For example, in a study of the so-called court history as apologetic, Kyle McCarter writes, “[a]pologetic writing presents unfavorable circumstances forthrightly in order to cast a favorable light on them by a variety of means. By its very nature, then, it holds conflicting ideas in literary tension.” 12 Similarly, in his study, Knapp notes a number of places where a less than flattering portrait of David is painted within this apparent apology of David, stating, “despite some evidence to the contrary, it does appear that the idea of literary tension in apologies is borne out by this text.” 13 This idea of literary tension will be explored more below, but for now it is enough to note that even those who are firmly convinced of the apologetic nature of the David story see that there is some complexity in the portrayal of David.

2.2

The David Story as Character Critique

The David story in 1–2 Samuel clearly has some marks of being an apology for his reign. However, as has long been recognized, the story itself has a number of aspects that reflect quite negatively on David. One early study that suggested that the tendenz of this literature was not pro-David or Solomon was Lienhard Delekat, 14 but other scholars followed in seeing the David story as somewhat critical of him. 15 One recent study that has really pressed this line of reasoning is 8

9 10 11 12 13 14 15

In addition to the David story, Knapp’s analysis looks at The Proclamation of Telipinu, The Autobiography of Hatusili III, the succession narrative of Solomon (1 Kings 1–2), the Tel Dan inscription of Hazael, The Accession of Esarhaddon, and The Rise of Nabonidus. See, for example, McKenzie, King David; Halpern, David’s Secret Demons; and most recently Baden, The Historical David. Halpern, David’s Secret Demons, 100. Wright, David, King of Israel, 9. McCarter, “Plots, True or False,” 360, n. 12. Knapp, Royal Apologetic, 226. Delekat, “Tendenz und Theologie der David-Salamo-Erzählung.” See, for example, Brueggemann, “Life and Death in Tenth Century Israel;” Gunn, The Story of

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John Van Seters’ The Biblical Saga of King David. The thesis put forward in Van Seters’ monograph is that in the David story we have two extensive and competing presentations of David that extend from the beginning of David’s career under Saul to the succession to David’s throne by Solomon. These two narratives are obviously contradictory in the sense that one idealizes David as the model king for all future monarchs, as embodied in the ideology of the messiah, Yahweh’s anointed and chosen king, and the other regards both David’s rise to the throne and the manner of his reign as typical of oriental despots and hardly a fitting model for a just society. 16

In Van Seters’ view, the more critical David Saga is meant to undermine the more positive presentation of David in the Deuteronomist’s work. In this view, the final form of the text as we now have it was intended to undermine the positive outlook on David with a critical one. Van Seters’ readings are fascinating and insightful. What is interesting for our purpose is the fact that his critical David Saga source contains many of the narratives that are frequently discussed as offering an apology of David. So, for example, if we return to Knapp’s list of postulated accusations against David, we will find that the majority of narratives that deal with these accusations occur in the section of text that Van Seters finds to be critical of David! 17 What Van Seters’ study helpfully shows is the pervasiveness of the critique of David throughout the David story. 18 However, while Van Seters has helpfully highlighted the criticisms of David present throughout the narrative, more credence should probably be given to the positive elements, as the numerous studies of the David story as apologetic have highlighted. For example, Van Seters claims that David’s sparing of Saul in 1 Samuel 26 is a negative portrait of David because it is an example of “public humiliation before Saul’s army.” 19 However, it is hard to avoid the conclusion that Van Seters sees this second account as negative simply because his thesis requires that when there is a doublet one account must be negative. 20 Another weakness of Van Seters’ reading is that if his thesis is correct and the final form of the biblical David story is produced by the author of the critical David Saga, then the David story is, in the final analysis, a literary failure. The intention of Van Seters’ David Saga is a critique of David. The reception history of the David story emphasizes the positive interpretation of him, making the claim that the final form of Samuel is meant to criticize David difficult to accept.

16 17

18 19 20

King David; Ackerman, “Knowing Good and Evil.” Van Seters, Biblical Saga, 1. For example, the section dealing with the claim that David was a Philistine mercenary, the claim that David was responsible for the death of Abner, and many others all occur within Van Seters’ critical David Saga (see Biblical Saga, 261–63). For another interesting study that highlights early criticisms of David see Chisholm, “Cracks in the Foundation.” Van Seters, Biblical Saga, 202. Cf. Knapp, Royal Apologetic, 191, n. 60.

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Toward an Unapologetic Apology

For the purposes of this study then, I want to make two claims. First, that studies such as those by McCarter and more recently Knapp successfully show the apologetic tenor of much of the David story. 21 There does seem to be an apologetic impulse behind these stories. David is clearly the hero and there is certainly a strong element in the text of positively characterizing him in situations in which one could imagine he might be easily critiqued. However, second, studies such as those by Gunn and, in a different way, Van Seters have shown that the current form of the David story cannot function as a royal apology in any simplistic way. 22 There are too many critical undercurrents in the David story for it to be seen purely as an apology for David and his rule. Rather, we are in need of a way to combine both of these narrative tendencies if we are to understand the current text of the book of Samuel as a coherent literary work. There are a number of possibilities for how to deal with the dual tendencies of this narrative material. Recourse to source-critical theories is a classic way to deal with the tension. 23 The difficulty with this way of dealing with the tension is that it does not obviously help us to interpret the text as we have it now. 24 To utilize Jon Levenson’s comments about historical criticism in general, the appeal to source-critical reasoning to help deal with tension means that “the price of recovering the historical context of sacred books has been the erosion of the largest literary contexts that undergird the traditions that claim to be based on them.” 25 Another way of dealing with this tension is to reimagine what we think this literature is trying to do. For David Gunn, for example, the David story should be understood as “serious entertainment” rather than historical propaganda in any sense. 26 For David Janzen, the David story (and the Deuteronomistic History in general) is positive toward David and the monarchy but is also simultaneously willing to be critical, due to the fact that the monarchy is merely a necessity because the Israelites themselves are a problem. 27 Or, as Jacob Wright has recently argued, the authors of the David story, 21 22 23 24

25

26 27

McCarter, “Apology of David,” Knapp, Royal Apologetic. Gunn, Story of King David; idem. Fate of King Saul; Van Seters, Biblical Saga. That is the thesis of Van Seters, but a classic argument along these lines can be found in Veijola, Die Ewige Dynastie. McCarter, “Plots, True or False,” 360, n. 12, also notes that redactional theories based on the criterion of narrative tension is a dubious method since apologetic literature will contain narrative tension. Levenson, The Hebrew Bible, The Old Testament, and Historical Criticism, 4. For one attempt to interact source-criticism with final form criticism see Sommer, “The Source Critic and Religious Interpreter.” Gunn, The Story of King David. Janzen, The Necessary King.

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anticipating Shakespeare’s work, took the greatest ruler in their collective memory and made him the most profoundly human of all biblical personalities. Their move is a radical one: According to ancient conventions, monarchs are to be represented as stoic, immutable superhuman sovereigns. […] The David they created is both larger than life and ‘human, all too human’ – which is undoubtedly why he has long been cherished. His story reveals uncomfortable truths about the human condition. 28

The thesis that I will argue in this paper follows along these lines. I will argue that we need to re-understand what the literature of the David story is trying to accomplish. To do that we will borrow from Eric Seibert’s study of the Solomon narrative.

3.1

A Helpful Category: Seibert’s Subversive Scribes

Eric Seibert’s study, Subversive Scribes, postulates subversive scribal activity as a way to account for the positive and negative aspects of Solomon depicted in 1 Kings 1–11. The question for the characterization of Solomon is how it can be said that “Solomon loved the LORD, walking in the statutes of his father David” (1 Kgs 3:3) in one instance and that “Solomon did what was evil in the sight of the LORD” (1 Kgs 11:6) in another? 29 Seibert’s answer is the category of subversive scribal activity. He imagines, much like novelist Stefan Heym’s Ethan, 30 a scenario where a scribe desires to critique his subject matter but is unable to do so overtly and thus must resort to subversive and covert criticism in his work. Seibert is not the first to suggest subversive scribal activity in the Hebrew Bible, 31 but his study is a very thorough analysis of a related narrative (1 Kings 1–11) with a detailed methodological discussion and thus offers a potentially helpful category for assessing the character of David. Seibert argues that “one of the most effective ways to deploy subversion in ancient literature was the guise of royal propaganda.” 32 The challenge in identifying covert criticism is, of course, that it is covert, intentionally below the surface. This means that there is great potential for seeing criticism that is not there. Thus, Seibert suggests six ways of identifying intentional scribal subversion. First, there is rhetorical excess. This is the Hamlet principle, when “the lady doth protest too much.” 33 Seibert suggests the narrator’s comments in 2 Sam 3:36-37 as an example of this. 34 There, after David has lamented the death of 28 29 30 31 32 33 34

Wright, David, King of Israel, 11. Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture quotations are from the NRSV. For a recent study of the characterization of Solomon see Frisch, “The Portrait of Solomon in the Book of Kings.” Heym, King David Report. See for example Mason, Propaganda and Subversion in the Old Testament; and Amit, Hidden Polemics in Biblical Narrative. Seibert, Subversive Scribes, 5. Hamlet, Act III, Scene II. Seibert, Subversive Scribes, 86–88.

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Abner and sworn to his innocence, the narrator comments that, “All the people took notice of it, and it pleased them; just as everything the king did pleased all the people. So all the people and all Israel understood that day that the king had no part in the killing of Abner son of Ner” (2 Sam 3:36–37). As a number of scholars have pointed out, this claim, especially the phrase “everything the king did pleased all the people,” seems a little too positive and hyperbolic to be believable. 35 A second category for identifying scribal subversion is the presence of multiple instances of evaluative ambiguity. David’s first entrance as a character in 1 Sam 17:24–30 offers a possible instance of this. David’s first words as a character, which Robert Alter suggests are “a defining moment of characterization,” 36 are inherently ambiguous. There are two parts to David’s opening speech. First, he says, “What shall be done for the man who kills this Philistine, and takes away the reproach from Israel?” (1 Sam 17:26a). This first statement seems inherently ambitious and potentially self-serving and perhaps characterizes David somewhat negatively. 37 On the other hand, the second part of his opening statement is inherently theological: “For who is this uncircumcised Philistine that he should defy the armies of the living God?” (1 Sam 17:26b). This statement is much easier to read as having a positive spin on a character who understands that God’s reputation is on the line. 38 Seibert’s third category for recognizing scribal subversion is the inclusion of unchallenged corrosive elements. He states, “Scribes sometimes included elements in their accounts which were potentially corrosive and which appear to undermine the dominant message of the text. […] Yet very often, no effort seems to have been made to neutralize their deleterious effects.” 39 In the David story a possible example of this is Shimei’s curse in 2 Sam 16:5–8. Shimei curses David and claims that the Lord is punishing him because of “the blood of the 35 36 37

38 39

For a good discussion of this passage utilizing Mikhail Bakhtin’s concept of pseudo-objective motivation, see Bodner, David Observed, 61–62. Alter, The David Story, 105. See, for example, Steussy, David: Biblical Portraits of Power, 4, 54. Or, Kim, Identity and Loyalty in the David Story, 12, 79, who states that David’s “first reported speech in the narrative […] is indicative: ‘What shall be done for the man who kills this Philistine?’ (1 Sam. 17.26) […] David was indeed an ambitious man” (p. 12). And later he writes, “To be fair, David is very angry that Goliath has insulted God, even though it is his second sentence. This line may attest to his piety, but his very first sentence reveals his ambition. […] In other words, there is a dark side to David’s heart of which the reader should be mindful” (p. 79). Cf. also Middleton, “The Battle Belongs to the Word,” 128, “it is possible that David’s first speech reveals his baser instincts, which must be taken into account along with his more noble claim to be concerned with the insult to Israel’s God. […] Perhaps […] Eliab’s critique of David is ‘double-voiced,’ expressing not just his own sense of outrage at his young, upstart brother, but also the narrator’s hint that all is not right in David’s ‘heart.’” For a reading that recognizes the ambiguity but suggests a positive emphasis can be retained see Johnson, “Making a First Impression.” Seibert, Subversive Scribes, 89.

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house of Saul” and because he is a “man of blood” (2 Sam 16:8). Interestingly, it is David himself who lets this claim stand in 2 Sam 16:11–12. It is narratively possible to see David as being vindicated because of this humble attitude, but it is also clear in the narrative that the Absalom episode is a result of David’s dealings with Bathsheba and Uriah, not for his dealings with Saul. 40 The fact that the narrative suggests that the Absalom episode is punishment for David’s evil deeds, which includes him being a “man of blood,” leaves Shimei’s additional claim, that it is specifically for the blood of the house of Saul that David is being punished, hanging unchallenged. We are thus left wondering if there is some legitimacy to that criticism, even though the narrative of 1 Samuel has seemed to make it clear that David is not guilty of bloodshed against the house of Saul. The fourth category for recognizing subversive scribal activity is the presentation of potentially problematic conduct that is critiqued elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible. As Seibert notes, “In some places, scribes depict people engaging in activities which would have been regarded as unacceptable in some – though not all – segments of Israelite society.” 41 A potentially interesting example of this in the David story is David’s treatment of his sons. After Amnon’s rape of Tamar, the narrative states that, “When King David heard of all these things, he became very angry” (2 Sam 13:21), with no consequent action. Interestingly, the LXX includes the additional phrase “but he would not punish his son Amnon, because he loved him, for he was his firstborn” (2 Sam 13:21). 42 While, there is no overt criticism of David’s actions, or in this case inactions, it is an interesting exercise to read this episode in light of the law of the rebellious son (Deut 21:18–21). Is it possible to read an inherent critique of David here as one who is allowing a stubborn and rebellious son to act egregiously without discipline? Seibert’s fifth category for recognizing subversive scribal activity is the lack of compelling explanations for ambiguous or mutually contradictory readings. He argues that when “it is impossible to adjudicate between contradictory interpretive possibilities, we have good reason to consider the possibility that it was intended to be irresolvably ambiguous and potentially subversive.” 43 In the David story an interesting possible example of this comes from David’s sojourning amongst the Philistines. This is one of the cases where Knapp has argued the text has not denied a charge (that David was a Philistine mercenary), but transformed that charge so as to tell a story where “throughout this period David’s loyalty never wavered.” 44 However, it is not entirely clear that the narrative presentation of David’s sojourn amongst the Philistines demands this reading. 40 41 42 43 44

See 2 Kgs 12:10–12. For a good reading of the Absalom episode as inherently connected to the Bathsheba and Uriah episode, see Bodner, Rebellion of Absalom. Seibert, Subversive Scribes, 89. NRSV prints this in the main text and a number of scholars prefer reading this LXX plus as original. E.g. McCarter, II Samuel, 319–20; Auld, I & II Samuel, 477. Seibert, Subversive Scribes, 91. Knapp, Royal Apologetic, 230.

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In the climactic scene where Achish is telling David that he cannot join them to fight Saul, David states, “But what have I done? What have you found in your servant from the day I entered your service until now, that I should not go and fight against the enemies of my lord the king?” (1 Sam 29:8). The issue in this statement is the question of just who are “the enemies of my lord the king”? Are the enemies Saul and the Israelites? Or are they Achish and the Philistines? Shemesh has argued that the reader is clearly meant to revel in David’s sneaky and ambiguous rhetoric at the expense of Achish and would have thought that the idea that David would have fought against Saul and Israel absurd. 45 However, the matter cannot finally be decided, as Peter Miscall and others have noted. 46 The text leaves the question open. The fact of the matter is we never get to see just what David would do if he had been forced to choose between Achish and Saul. The question is, why leave that possibility open unless part of the rationale of the text is to leave David’s intentions ambiguous? It seems we may be invited to see a potentially subversive text here. 47 The final clue that Seibert utilizes to see subversive scribal activity is the persistent presence of scholarly suspicion that subversion is present. 48 When it comes to the David story, all of the examples that we have used for Seibert’s previous five categories of evidence of subversion have been cases where scholars have seen the potential for critical perspectives on David in the text. Thus, we see plenty of evidence of scholarly suspicion that this kind of activity is present in the David story. We have so far suggested that the David story does indeed bear many hallmarks of a text that is intending to offer an apology of David and his kingship. We have also seen that there are undoubtedly critical elements within the David story both in the portion of the text traditionally attributed to the history of David’s rise and the portion of the text traditionally attributed to the court history. We have suggested that Eric Seibert’s category of scribal subversion is a potentially helpful category for assessing the David story. It must be noted that it is not necessary to accept Seibert’s historical setting of a subversive scribe as a contemporary of the events being narrated in order to accept the helpful category of a covertly subversive narrative. In this study I am contending that the product of the book of Samuel can be helpfully described as an unapologetic apo45 46

47

48

Shemesh, “David in the Service of King Achish.” Miscall, 1 Samuel, 175, writes, “‘My lord the king’—is this Achish or Saul? Is David being ironic? Is he breathing a sigh of relief that he has not been forced to turn against Achish? The issue will not be decided; we will not finally know whether David would or would not desert the Philistines and fight with Saul and Israel. Is David servant to Achish or Saul, to both, to neither?” Another example along these lines could be David’s dealings with Abner and Joab in 2 Samuel 3. On an ambiguous reading of this chapter see Johnson, “Character as Interpretive Crux,” 9– 11. Seibert, Subversive Scribes, 91. This is additionally one of the categories that Amit discusses in discerning hidden polemics (Hidden Polemics, 97).

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logy. I am less sure of postulating the process that led to this text. 49 Hence my proposal is focused less on the scribes and more on the text. In the remainder of this paper I will offer a sustained reading, however brief, of one pericope within the David story which highlights the dual nature of this narrative.

4.

1 Samuel 25 as a Test Case

There are a number of reasons that 1 Samuel 25 offers a useful example for this study. It is a text that is found in the more positive section of the David narrative, traditionally attributed to the history of David’s rise. It is a text that seems clearly to answer an assumed accusation, that David killed Nabal and took his wife and property. It is thus frequently claimed to be a clear apologetic. In fact, in his recent work on the historical David, Joel Baden, uses it as his parade example of a biblical cover-up meant to present David as innocent. He argues that, “there are probably innumerable ways to fill the gaps” in the narrative of 1 Samuel 25, “but none, it is safe to say, could be as tilted in David’s favor as the biblical version.” 50 However, there is reason to question whether the biblical text is quite so tilted in David’s favor as Baden claims. Numerous scholars, especially those with a literary bent, have suggested that rather than a cover-up story, 1 Samuel 25 is meant to reveal that David has a dark side. 51 Jon Levenson’s comments are indicative: In short, the David of chaps. 24 and 26 is the character whom we have seen since his introduction in chap. 16 and whom we shall continue to see until 2 Samuel 11, the appealing young man of immaculate motivation and heroic courage. But the David of chap. 25 is a man who kills for a grudge. The episode of Nabal is the very first revelation of evil in David’s character. He can kill. This time he stops short. But the cloud that chap. 25 raises continues to darken our perception of David’s character. 52

49

50

51 52

I can imagine a number of historical scenarios in which an author might be somewhat apologetic and somewhat unapologetic. If von Rad is correct, for example, that the ending of the book of Kings offers a moderated optimistic view for the Davidic monarchy, then the complicated viewpoint of the monarchy that we are advocating for here in the Book of Samuel is not that far removed from the latest narrative in the corpus of Joshua–Kings (See von Rad, Old Testament Theology, I: 334–47). I can also imagine a number of redactional theories that could have led to the text we have at present. Thus, I am only arguing for the version of the text that we have and making a case for how it seems to present David. Baden, The Historical David, 7. This kind of reading of 1 Samuel 25 is not unique, many others before Baden have made similar claims. E.g. McKenzie, King David, 97–101; and Halpern, David’s Secret Demons, 77. E.g. Bodner, 1 Samuel, 258–73; Green, “Enacting the Imaginatively Unthinkable;” Gordon, “David’s Rise and Saul’s Demise.” Levenson, “1 Samuel 25 as Literature and History,” 23.

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Thus, from the outset we are already in a place to suspect a subversive text because of the presence of scholarly suspicion and the possibility of mutually contradictory readings. What we will see is that 1 Samuel 25 does indeed make clear that David is not directly to blame for the death of Nabal and in fact learns the valuable lesson of responding to advice and leaving vengeance up to God. However, the story is also told in such a way as to highlight gaps in the narrative that leave us with nagging questions about the dark side of David. The action starts with David, who, after hearing about Nabal’s shearing activities, submits a request to Nabal for what he claims is payment for services rendered. Here we encounter our first narrative gap. As Barbara Green notes, we the reader, have to ask, “is this the humble presentation of a bill, or is it an extortionate demand for payment which had better not be refused?” 53 If it is the former, David is characterized one way. If it is the latter, he is characterized another way. The difficulty is that we only have David’s word. We are given no information in the narrative as to whether or not David has actually performed a service or whether he is running some sort of protection racket. 54 We may be in the dark as to how to characterize David, but Nabal does not seem to have the same problem, as he clearly sees David as playing a game here and offers nothing but an insulting refusal to David’s servants (1 Sam 25:10). David responds to Nabal’s rash refusal with a seemingly rash action of his own, demanding that, “[e]ach man strap on his sword!” (1 Sam 25:13). Since we still do not know just what happened in the wilderness, the reader is left wondering how to characterize David’s response. As Diana Edelman asks, “[h]as he deliberately forced a confrontation in order to seem to have a legitimate grievance and basis for gaining control over Nabal’s flocks and wool? Has this been a long-standing plan, formulated months ago in Carmel when Nabal’s shepherds first appeared on the scene? Has David set up Nabal?” 55 As Bodner has noted, “if the answer to any of these questions is affirmative, then this chapter hardly qualifies as an apology for David’s conduct.” 56 We seem still to be living in a narrative gap that we cannot quite fill, which leads us to reflect on the rhetoric of the story up to this point. If the point of the narrative was to get the reader to feel David’s outrage and side with him, a narratorial comment about David being in the wilderness looking after Nabal’s shepherds would have accomplished that. As it is, the reader isn’t able fully to empathize emotionally with David because we still feel the force of Nabal’s objection: “Who is the son of Jesse?” We are left living in the ambiguity of the gap. 53 54

55 56

Green, “Enacting the Imaginatively Unthinkable,” 12. Bodner, 1 Samuel, 261, also detects the possibility of rhetorical overkill in David’s statement, stating that, “it is almost as if David is expecting an objection from Nabal, which he pre-empts in the message by encouraging Nabal to ask his own shepherds about what happened in the wilderness.” Edelman, King Saul, 210. Bodner, 1 Samuel, 263.

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The scene then turns to Abigail who is told how Nabal has responded to David’s request. What we get is confirmation from one of Nabal’s servants of David’s story. “One of the young men” 57 tells Abigail that the “men were very good to us” (1 Sam 25:15). Furthermore, he confirms David’s claims from v. 7 almost word for word. David’s speech (v. 7) we caused them no harm they did not lack for anything all the days they were in Carmel ‫לא הכלמנום‬ ‫ולא־נפקד להם מאומה‬ ‫כל־ימי היותם בכרמל‬

Youth’s speech (v. 15) they caused us no harm we did not lack for anything all the days we walked with them when we were in the field ‫ולא הכלמנו‬ ‫ולא־פקדנו מאומה‬ ‫כל־ימי התהלכנו אתם בהיותנו בשדה‬

Thus it seems that the contact between David and Nabal’s men in the wilderness was a favorable one and probably even included some sort of semi-formal arrangement, which Nabal is guilty of breaking. 58 However, the question remains why are we just now having David’s truthfulness confirmed? It is rhetorically ineffective to find this out now, unless part of the purpose is to cause us to question David’s wilderness activities, his response to Nabal, and, indeed, his character. After we gain some sympathies for David’s perspective, the narrative continues with Abigail’s actions. She springs to action and seeks to rectify her husband’s insults by paying (or bribing?) David. Before Abigail meets David, the narrative then gives us a flashback to relive the moment when David responds to Nabal’s insulting refusal. We also learn more characterizing information about David’s response. David’s response was to swear an oath “Thus may God do […] and thus may he continue to do […]” (1 Sam 25:22). This form of oath, with the use of ‫ אלהים‬opposed to ‫יהוה‬, occurs two other times in the Hebrew Bible: once by Saul in his rash oath against his own son (1 Sam 14:44) and once by Abner in his oath against Ishbosheth (2 Sam 3:9). 59 One cannot help but notice that David’s swearing here puts him in comparison with the two most significant Saulides, neither of whom are characterized particularly positively. Additionally, we see the depth of his vehemence, as he says that he will destroy any “who piss against the wall” (‫משׁתין בקיר‬, 1Sam 25:22). This violent response is directly counter to the way David is characterized in the narratives that frame the present chapter. In chs. 24 and 26 David significantly refuses to respond to Saul with violence, though one may argue (and his men certainly do!) that he is justified in doing so.

57 58

59

On the significance of the speech of “one of the young men” (‫ )אחד מהנערים‬see Johnson, “David Then and Now.” See Bodi, “David as an ‘Apiru in 1 Samuel 25,” 52–57. Or as van Wolde notes, “[t]he reader has it on unimpeachable authority and should be convinced by now of the truthfulness of David’s words to Nabal” (Van Wolde, “A Leader Led By a Lady,” 360). Cf. also 1 Sam 20:13 and Ruth 1:17 which use Yhwh.

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Here, however, we see David default to extreme violence. 60 Though the narrative confirmation of David’s innocence in dealing with Nabal has finally led us to view David positively in this exchange, we now may be led to see him characterized negatively in this scene. Once Abigail and David meet, we are again given interesting characterizing information about David’s actions and intent. Abigail addresses David and says, “Now then, my lord, as the LORD lives, and as you yourself live, since the LORD has restrained you from bloodguilt and from taking vengeance with your own hand [….]” (1 Sam 25:26). 61 We are now left with something of conflicting characterization. On the one hand, we have been led to be sympathetic to David’s response by the apparent confirmation that David did indeed render service to Nabal’s men in the wilderness. On the other hand, we are left with the claim by Abigail, which is in turn accepted by David (1 Sam 25:33), that if he had carried out his intent, he would have incurred bloodguilt. It seems then that we are being led, to use Seibert’s category, toward mutually contradictory readings. One imagines that it would have been possible for the ambiguity of this narrative to have been cleared up. The fact that it is not suggests that we are dealing with a text that is asking us to wrestle with the characterization of David and his actions, without giving us a clear-cut picture. There are more ambiguities in this text and much more that could be said. 62 However, the point that I hope to have made is that 1 Samuel 25 does in fact defend David’s innocence in his dealings with Nabal. However, the way the story is presented, with its system of gaps, is done in such a way as to cause us to question the justifiability of David’s intentions and actions. It does not seem, therefore, that 1 Samuel 25 can function as purely an apology for David’s innocence. 63 This kind of narrative, with its complicated portrayal, is what leads me to propose the category of an unapologetic apology as a helpful way to characterize the David story. 60 61

62

63

This is one of the main arguments of Gordon, “David’s Rise and Saul’s Demise”; and Green, “Enacting the Imaginatively Unthinkable.” Although it is not necessary for my reading to note diachronic issues with this text, it is worth noting that at least parts of Abigail’s speech (specifically vv. 28–31) are seen as later Deuteronomistic insertions. Various other textual issues are present in this text, such as the fact that vv. 26 and 33 seem to presume that Nabal is already dead. For some discussion see Knapp, Royal Apologetic, 207. I have worked through this system of gaps and characterization much more thoroughly in a paper that was presented at the SBL Annual Meeting in San Antonio, TX, 2016 under the title “Mind The Gap: The Characterization of David and the Deuteronomistic View of the Monarchy in 1 Samuel 25.” To his credit, Knapp is a savvy reader of the text and recognizes the tension present in this episode: “Unlike several other passages that present thoroughly and undeniably flattering images of David, there seems to be some tension here” (Royal Apologetic, 225). For Knapp, the persistent apologetic tone of the rest of the narrative is what leads him to read even this ambiguous narrative as part of an apology (see Royal Apologetic, 195). In my view, the rest of the narrative is also persistently ambiguous in its portrayal of David.

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Conclusion: A Complex Response to Monarchy

The David story is one of the most fascinating and complex pieces of ancient literature and the character of David is one of the most complicated characters in all of literature. What I have suggested in this essay is that the scholarship on the David story reflects that complexity in its dual perspectives on the text. I have argued that those who see in the David story an example of an ancient apology have good textual rationale for doing so. Nevertheless, I have also argued that those who view the David story as a critical literary work that presents a less-than-perfect picture of Israel’s paradigmatic king also have strong textual rationale for doing so. The conclusion to be drawn is that the narrative as we now have it portrays a complex characterization of David and the monarchy that he represents. That David is representative of the monarchy can be seen in the way he is treated as a paradigm in the book of Kings. 64 Just as David is the hero of the story, the monarchy is the hope for Israel. However, just as David is far from an ideal character, the monarchy, as it turns out, is far from an ideal project. It seems to me that we would not be far off the mark to conclude with Stephen Chapman that “the emergence of the monarchy in Israel [was] always viewed as [it] still appear[s] in the biblical text – as confusing and complex.” 65 In other words, what we see in the David story can be conceived of as an unapologetic apology that offers a complex response to David and the monarchy that he represents.

Bibliography Ackerman, James S. “Knowing Good and Evil: A Literary Analysis of the Court History in 2 Samuel 9– 20 and 1 Kings 1–2.” JBL 109 (1990): 41-60. Alter, Robert. The David Story: A Translation with Commentary of 1 and 2 Samuel. New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 1999. Amit, Yairah. Hidden Polemics in Biblical Narrative. Leiden: Brill, 2000. Baden, Joel S. The Historical David: The Real Life of an Invented Hero. New York: HarperOne, 2013. Bodi, Daniel. “David as an ‘Apiru in 1 Samuel 25.” Pages 24–59 in Abigail, Wife of David, and Other Ancient Oriental Women. Edited by Daniel Bodi. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2013. Bodner, Keith. David Observed: A King in the Eyes of His Court. HBM 5. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2005. ________. 1 Samuel: A Narrative Commentary. HBM 19. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2009. ________. The Rebellion of Absalom. New York: Routledge, 2014. Bodner, Keith, and Benjamin J. M. Johnson. “David: Kaleidoscope of a King.” Pages 122–139 in Characters and Characterization in the Book of Samuel. Edited by Keith Bodner and Benjamin J. M. Johnson. 64 65

See, for example, Joseph, Portrait of the Kings. Chapman, 1 Samuel as Christian Scripture, 239. Chapman notes a similar view is held by Dietrich, “König David,” 19. Cf. Also Dietrich, The Early Monarchy in Israel, 309–14.

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LHBOTS 669. London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2020. Brueggemann, Walter. “Life and Death in Tenth Century Israel.” JAAR 40 (1972): 96–109. Chapman, Stephen B. 1 Samuel as Christian Scripture: A Theological Commentary. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2016. Chisholm, Robert B., Jr. “Cracks in the Foundation: Ominous Signs in the David Narrative.” BibSac 172 (2015): 154–176. Delekat, Lienhard. “Tendenz und Theologie der David-Salamo-Erzählung.” Pages 26–36 in Das ferne und nahe Wort: Festschrift Leonard Rost zur Vollendung seines 70. Lebensjahres am 30. November gewidmet. Edited by Fritz Maass. BZAW 105. Berlin: Töpelmann, 1967. Dietrich, Walter. “König David – biblisches Bild eines Herrschers im altorientalischen Kontext.” Pages 3–31 in König David: Biblische Schlüsselfigur und europäische Leitgestalt. 19. Kolloquium (2000) der Schweizerischen Akademie der Geistes- und Sozialwissenschaften. Edited by Walter Dietrich and Hubert Herkommer. Freiburg: Universitätsverlag; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2003. ________. The Early Monarchy in Israel: The Tenth Century B.C.E. Biblical Encyclopedia / Biblische Enzyklopädie 3. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature, 2007. Dietrich, Walter, and Thomas Naumann. “The David-Saul Narrative.” Pages 276–318 in Reconsidering Israel and Judah: Recent Studies on the Deuteronomistic History. Edited by G.N. Knoppers and J.G. McConville. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2000. Edelman, Diana Vikander. King Saul in the Historiography of Judah. JSOTSup 121. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1991. Frisch, Amos. “The Portrait of Solomon in the Book of Kings.” Pages 50–64 in Characters and Characterization in the Book of Kings. Edited by Keith Bodner and Benjamin J. M. Johnson. LHBOTS 670. London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2020. Garsiel, Moshe. “The Book of Samuel: Its Composition, Structure and Significance as a Historiographical Source.” Journal of Hebrew Scriptures 10.5 (2010): 1–42. Gordon, Robert P. “David’s Rise and Saul’s Demise: Narrative Analogy in 1 Samuel 24–26.” TynBul 31 (1980): 37–64. Green, Barbara. “Enacting Imaginatively the Unthinkable: 1 Samuel 25 and the Story of Saul.” BibInt 11 (2003): 1–23. Grønbaek, J.H. Die Geschichte vom Aufstieg Davids (1. Sam 15–2. Sam. 5): Tradition und Composition. Acta Theologica Danica 10. Copenhagen, Munksgaard, 1971. Gunn, David M. The Story of King David: Genre and Interpretation. JSOTSup 6. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1978. ________. The Fate of King Saul: An Interpretation of a Biblical Story. JSOTSup 14. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1980. Halpern, Baruch. David’s Secret Demons: Messiah, Murderer, Traitor, King. Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Pub. Co., 2001. Heym, Stefan. The King David Report. European Classics. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1997. Janzen, David. The Necessary King: A Postcolonal Reading of the Deuteronomistic Portrait of the Monarchy. HBM 57. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2013. Johnson, Benjamin J. M. “David Then and Now: Double-Voiced Discourse in 1 Samuel 16:14–23.” JSOT 38.2 (2013): 201–215. ________. “Character as Interpretive Crux in the Book of Samuel.” Pages 1–13 in Characters and Characterization in the Book of Samuel. Edited by Keith Bodner and Benjamin J. M. Johnson. London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2020. ________. “Making a First Impression: The Characterization of David and His Opening Words in 1 Samuel 17:25–31.” TynBul 71.1 (2020): 75–93. Joseph, Alison L. Portrait of the Kings: The Davidic Prototype in Deuteronomistic Poetics. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2015. Kim, Uriah Y. Identity and Loyalty in the David Story: A Postcolonial Reading. HBM 22. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2008. Knapp, Andrew. Royal Apologetic in the Ancient Near East. Writings From the Ancient World Supplement Series 4. Atlanta, GA: SBL Press, 2015. Levenson, Jon D. “1 Samuel 25 as Literature and as History.” CBQ 40.1 (1978): 11–28. ________. The Hebrew Bible, The Old Testament, and Historical Criticism: Jews and Christians in Biblical Studies.

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Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1993. Mason, Rex. Propaganda and Subversion in the Old Testament. London: SPCK, 2009. McCarter, P. Kyle, Jr. “The Apology of David.” JBL 99.4 (1980): 489–504. ________. “‘Plots, True or False’: The Succession Narrative as Court Apologetic.” Int 35.4 (1981): 355– 367. ________. II Samuel: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. Anchor Bible 9. New York: Doubleday, 1984. McKenzie, Steven L. King David: A Biography. New York: Oxford University Press, 2000. Middleton, J. Richard. “The Battle Belongs to the Word: The Role of Theological Discourse in David’s Victory Over Saul and Goliath in 1 Samuel 17.” Pages 109–131 in The Hermeneutics of Charity: Interpretation, Selfhood, and Postmodern Faith. Edited by James K.A. Smith, and Henry Isaac Venema. Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2004. Miscall, Peter D. 1 Samuel: A Literary Reading. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1986. Noll, K. L. The Faces of David. JSOTSup 242. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997. Seibert, Eric. Subversive Scribes and the Solomonic Narrative: A Rereading of 1 Kings 1–11. LHBOTS 610. London: T&T Clark, 2006. Shemesh, Yael. “David in the Service of King Achish of Gath: Renegade to His People or a Fifth Column in the Philistine Army?” VT 57.1 (2007): 73–90. Sommer, Benjamin D. “The Source Critic and the Religious Interpreter.” Int 60.1 (2006): 9–20. Van Seters, John. The Biblical Saga of King David. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2009. Veijola, Timo. Die Ewige Dynastie: David und die Entstehung seiner Dynastie nach der deuteronomistischen Darstellung. AASF Series B 193. Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1975. von Rad, Gerhard. Old Testament Theology. Vol. I. Translated by D.M.G. Stalker. New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 1965. Weiser, Artur. “Die Legitimation des Königs David: Zur Eigenart und Entstehung der sogen. Geschichte von Davids Aufstieg.” VT 16.3 (1966): 325–354. Whitelam, Keith W. “The Defence of David.” JSOT 29 (1984): 61–87. Wolde, Ellen van. “A Leader Led By a Lady: David and Abigail in 1 Samuel 25.” ZAW 114 (2002): 355– 375. Wright, Jacob L. David, King of Israel, and Caleb in Biblical Memory. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014.

„Der König weint“ – Das öffentliche Weinen des Königs als Mittel politischer Kommunikation in alttestamentlichen Texten Thomas Naumann

Summary The medievalist Gerd Althoff had suggested in his investigations of the weeping king in medieval epic poetry that, in addition to the expression of emotions, the aspects of political communication of these scenes should be considered. After all, these scenes are often preformed to secure or establish royal rule. Adopting this approach and, after a look at the Mesopotamian kings, all nine biblical scenes in which weeping kings are presented in very different situations will be analyzed. When the king cries, it is almost always a question of his competence as ruler. It is encountered as a gesture of humiliation before the deity to avert a political or personal emergency and can be understood as a “compelling gesture” that urges the divine counterpart to react as desired. However, this is not always crowned with success. The royal cry of humility before God can also be narrated as an individual, spontaneous reaction outside of ritualized procedures. In the context of ritual lamentations of the dead, royal weeping is only encountered twice. It also becomes visible as a reaction from emotional shock (1 Sam 24; 2 Sam 13; 19). In these spontaneous reactions, established gestures of humbling oneself are used without the possibility of ritual staging. Royal weeping, like all weeping, embraces many factors, always involving a variety of aspects of social and political communication. This essay focuses particularly on the question of establishing or realigning royal power. This political dimension was particularly emphasized in David’s lament for Abner (2 Sam 3). Only David’s fight for the life of his child (conceived in adultery) seems to be an exclusively private scene (2 Sam 12). The royal weeping is never discredited by the narrator, even if it is contrary to the requirements of royal action. Much of what Althoff observes in the medieval epics is also found in the biblical texts. Moreover, the understanding of some appearances as “compelling gestures,” which urge or even force the addressee (often the deity) to react in a certain way, is also beneficial. Less convincing is his thesis that the performances of royal weeping follow a prearranged performance, in which all those involved know from the outset how they are to behave and what form the proceedings should adopt. In the biblical texts this can at best be rudimentarily proved for the ritual lamentations of the dead, but it cannot be made credible either in the penitential scenes before God or in the spontaneous reactions. Nonetheless, it has proved immensely fruitful to examine the many communicative aspects of the scenes in which the king cries in the Bible. Der Mittelalterhistoriker Gerd Althoff schlug in seinen Untersuchungen zum weinenden König in der mittelalterlichen Epik vor, neben dem Emotionenausdruck vor allem die Aspekte politischer Kommunikation dieser Szenen zu betrachten. Häufig handelt es sich um Inszenierungen zur Sicherung oder Etablierung königlicher Herrschaft. Diesen Ansatz sich zu eigen machend, werden nach einem Blick auf die mesopotamischen Könige alle neun biblischen Szenen analysiert, in denen weinende Könige in sehr unterschiedlichen Situationen präsentiert werden. Wenn der König weint, geht es fast immer auch um die Frage seiner Kompetenz als Herrscher. Die Geste ist eine Demütigung vor der Gottheit, um eine politische oder persönliche Notlage abzuwenden, und kann als „zwingende Geste“ aufgefasst werden, die das göttliche Gegenüber zu der gewünschten Reaktion drängt. Diese

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ist allerdings nicht immer von Erfolg gekrönt. Das königliche Demutsweinen vor Gott kann auch außerhalb ritualisierter Abläufe als individuelle Spontanreaktion erzählt werden. Im Rahmen ritueller Totenklage begegnet das königliche Weinen indes nur zweimal. Daneben wird es als emotionale Schockreaktion sichtbar (1 Sam 24; 2 Sam 13; 19). In diesen Spontanreaktionen werden etablierte Gesten der Selbstminderung genutzt, ohne dass rituelle Inszenierungen angenommen werden könnten. Das königliche Weinen ist wie jedes Weinen multifaktoriell und umfasst stets eine Vielzahl von Aspekten sozialer und politischer Kommunikation, wobei in diesem Aufsatz besonders die Frage der Etablierung oder Neuausrichtung königlicher Macht im Fokus steht. Diese politische Dimension wurde insbesondere in Davids Totenklage um Abner (2 Sam 3) herausgestellt. Eine ausschließlich private Szene scheint allein Davids Kampf um das Leben seines (im Ehebruch gezeugten) Kindes zu sein (2 Sam 12). Nie wird das königliche Weinen vom Erzähler diskreditiert, selbst wenn es im Gegensatz zu den Erfordernissen königlichen Handelns steht. Vieles von dem, was Althoff in den mittelalterlichen Epen beobachtet, findet sich auch in den biblischen Texten. Gewinnbringend ist überdies das Verständnis mancher Auftritte als „zwingende Gesten“, die den Adressaten (oft die Gottheit) zu einer bestimmten Reaktion drängen oder gar zwingen. Nicht bestätigt werden konnte seine These, dass die Auftritte königlichen Weinens einer vorab geplanten Inszenierung folgen, bei der alle Beteiligten von vornherein wissen, wie sie sich zu verhalten haben und worauf das Ganze hinausläuft. In den biblischen Texten lässt sich dies bestenfalls ansatzweise für die rituellen Totenklagen belegen, aber weder bei den Bußszenen vor Gott noch bei den Spontanreaktionen glaubhaft machen. Gleichwohl hat es sich als ungemein ertragreich erwiesen, die vielfältigen kommunikativen Aspekte der Szenen zu untersuchen, in denen der König in der Bibel weint.

1.

Zur Fragestellung

In den Samuelbüchern wird David mehrfach und in recht unterschiedlichen Situationen als weinender König im öffentlichen Raum gezeigt. Welche Sprache sprechen diese Szenen? Gewiss sind es bei unterschiedlichen Anlässen Reaktionen auf einen Schmerz. Wenn der König öffentlich weint, geht es auch darüber hinaus, weil der Inhaber politischer Macht diese Sprache des Schmerzes nutzt, um auf unterschiedlichen Ebenen zu kommunizieren. Der Aufsatz untersucht diese narrativen Inszenierungen königlichen Weinens als Mittel der sozialen und politischen Kommunikation. Ich nehme dabei Anregungen auf, die der Historiker Gerd Althoff an mittelalterlichen Königsepen entwickelt hat. 1 Althoff untersuchte die literarischen Darstellungen des öffentlichen Weinens von Königen und versteht sie als Mittel politischer Kommunikation. Es gehe nicht allein um Vollzüge ritueller Trauer in einer rangbewussten auf die Inszenierung der königlichen Ehre fixierten Gesellschaft, sondern um ein mehrschichtiges Kommunikationsgeschehen, das eingebunden in eine Fülle von Zeichen (Sprache, Kleidung, Geste, Mimik u.a.) unterschiedliche Ziele verfolgen kann. Nicht selten geht es dabei um die Etablierung oder Neuausrichtung königlicher Herrschaft im öffentlichen Raum. Vorgänge von königlichem Weinen sind für Althoff nicht in erster Linie Ausdruck einer überbordenden Emo1

Althoff, Der König weint, 258–281; vgl. ders., Empörung, Tränen, Zerknirschung, 258–281.

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tionalität, sondern demonstrative Akte und Teil einer auf Wirkung bedachten politischen Kommunikation. Seine Sichtung der epischen mittelalterlichen Literatur ergibt, dass Könige vielfach und bei durchaus verschiedenen Anlässen in Tränen ausbrechen. Sie verhalten sich wie andere Männer und Frauen. Bei solchen öffentlichen Äußerungen des Schmerzes besteht kein Unterschied zwischen Frauen und Männern. Wenn Männer öffentlich weinen, wird dies nirgends als unmännliche Schwäche diskreditiert. Es gehört vielmehr zu den nie beanstandeten Ausdrucksformen in bestimmten Situationen. Dabei lösen die königlichen Tränen nicht selten ein spezifisches Echo unter den Zeugen solcher Auftritte aus, so dass diese gleichfalls zu weinen beginnen. In der mittelalterlichen Literatur sind es folgende Situationen, in denen der König öffentlich Tränen vergießt: Zum einen weint er innerhalb oder außerhalb des Genres der Totenklage über den Verlust von Vertrauten, die gefallen oder gestorben sind (1). In abgemilderter Form begegnet dieses Verlustweinen beim öffentlichen Abschiednehmen von Getreuen, mit denen er freundschaftlich verbunden ist (2). Der König weint aber auch, wenn er eine dringende Bitte an Getreue richtet, deren Ernst er durch Niederfallen und Tränen unterstreichen möchte (3) oder er weint über eigene Sünden und vergießt Tränen der Reue (4). Endlich weint der König, wenn er seine christlichen Herrschertugenden, seine Frömmigkeit und Barmherzigkeit (clementia, misericordia) unter Beweis stellen möchte (5). 2 In den erzählten Kontexten gewinnt das öffentlich inszenierte Weinen verbunden mit anderen Gesten und Praktiken gelegentlich den Charakter einer „zwingenden Geste“, d. h. es wird eingesetzt, um den Adressaten zu einer bestimmten Reaktion zu bewegen, der dieser dann nicht mehr ausweichen kann. Ein klassisches Beispiel wäre der berühmte Gang nach Canossa, mit dem König Heinrichs IV. im Dezember/Januar 1076/77 vor Papst Gregor VII. durch ein aufwändiges und vorher genau abgestimmtes Buß- und Unterwerfungsritual, das auch die königlichen Tränen der Buße vorsah, die Rücknahme seiner Exkommunikation erreichte. Althoff zieht daraus die Schlussfolgerung, dass es sich mindestens bei derartigen Auftritten königlicher Buße um politische Inszenierungen handelt, deren Sprache und Gesten allen Beteiligten zuvor bekannt sind. Auch die Adressaten seien in die Funktionen des königlichen Weinens vorher eingeweiht und kennen die kommunikativen Spielregeln. Diese Regeln werden zwar in den epischen Texten selbst nicht erwähnt, sind aber im politischen Raum bekannt und können vorausgesetzt werden. Nach Althoff steckt demnach hinter diesen deutlich emotionalen Auftritten eine politische Kommunikationsabsicht, die es zu erheben gilt. Hat Althoff sein Augenmerk auf den sozialen und politischen Interaktionscharakter königlichen Weinens gelegt, so ist seiner funktionalistischen Sichtweise auch widersprochen worden, weil sie den Zweifel an der emotionalen Aufrichtigkeit solcher Szenen nähren könnte. Jedoch sind in 2

Vgl. Althoff, Der König weint, 241f.

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vormodernen Gesellschaften ritualisierte Praktiken die adäquate Form für die Äußerungen von Emotionen, die nicht einfach verdächtigt werden sollten, Hülle reinen Kalküls zu sein. 3 Auch sei der moderne Zweifel an der emotionalen Authentizität von ritualisierten Handlungen selbst ein Produkt der Neuzeit und für mittelalterliche Texte anachronistisch. 4 Vielmehr müsse gelten, dass Zorn oder Trauer einer Handlungsfigur so lange als adäquater Emotionsausdruck aufzufassen ist, so lange der Text dies nicht selbst in Frage stellt. Dies gelte in fiktionalen Texten für Emotionen, die im Rahmen von Ritualen zum Ausdruck gebracht werden, wie für Emotionsäußerungen, die außerhalb einer solchen Rahmung situiert werden. 5 Überdies sei Althoff zu stark an den historischen Kommunikationsformen interessiert, während er dem literarischen Inszenierungscharakter in seinen Quellen zu wenig Aufmerksamkeit schenkt. Diese mediävistische Debatte ist für die Bibelwissenschaft von Bedeutung, weil auch hier den entsprechenden biblischen Szenen mit ihren überbordenden emotionalen Reaktionen nicht selten mit Misstrauen an der emotionalen Aufrichtigkeit ihrer Protagonisten begegnet wird, nur weil sie im Horizont gegenwärtiger Wahrnehmungen als übertrieben erscheinen. Wir lassen uns im Folgenden von Althoffs Anliegen anregen, das königliche Weinen als Mittel der politischen Kommunikation zu untersuchen. Dabei nehmen wir Anleihen bei Pierre Bourdieu, der mit seiner Habitustheorie gelehrt hat, dass eine (erzählte) soziale Welt aus einer Vielzahl von Handlungen der Beteiligten, der Gesten des Körpers und der Sprache u. v. m. besteht und durch diese performativ immer wieder hervorgebracht wird. 6 Endlich sei auf die bedeutende Arbeit von Elke Koch zur Darstellung der Trauer in der mittelalterlichen epischen Literatur verwiesen, die in einem vorzüglichen Methodenkapitel einen Schlüssel für die Interpretation von epischen Trauerszenen erarbeitet hat, der auch für biblische Texte fruchtbar gemacht zu werden verdient. Trauer wird bei Elke Koch nicht (allein) als Ausdruck einer universellen Verlustreaktion aufgefasst, sondern als vielgestaltige literarische Inszenierung, in der sprachliche, performative und soziale Praktiken eine Vielzahl von Aspekten der Kommunikation einschließen können, deren Sinn aber aus dem vorliegenden Text als historischem Gegenstand jeweils selbst zu erheben ist. 7 Das ist auch für die biblischen Trauerszenen 3

4

5 6 7

Diese Kritik geht an Althoff allerdings vorbei. Vgl. ders., Empörung, Tränen, Zerknirschung, 281: „Diese Differenzierung zwischen echt und aufgeführt aber war dem Mittelalter noch fremd.“ Zur kritischen Diskussion von Althoff vgl. Koch, Trauer und Identität, 63–65. Für den Historiker Edward Muir, Ritual in Early modern Europe (1997), hat die Kritik an der Authentizität rituell dargestellter Emotionen selbst einen historischen Hintergrund. Sie gründet in der Reformationszeit mit ihren Vorbehalten gegenüber Ritualen und ist daher für Rituale des Mittelalters (und gewiss auch früherer Epochen) selbst anachronistisch. Vgl. Koch, Trauer und Identität, 64 m. Anm. 162. So beispielsweise Koch, Trauer und Identität, 64. Bourdieu, männliche Herrschaft. Zu seiner Habitus-Theorie für den Masculinity-Diskurs vgl. Meuser, Soziologie, 221–222. Koch, Trauer und Identität, 47–55.

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zu beachten. Auch hier haben wir es mit literarische Inszenierungen von Trauer zu tun, deren kommunikative Dimensionen aus den Texten selber zu erheben sind, und die nicht ohne weiteres Rückschlüsse auf historisch etablierte TrauerRituale erlauben. 8 Der von Althoff für die mittelalterliche Epik erhobene Befund gilt auch für die biblischen wie für die altorientalischen und altgriechischen epischen Texte: 9 Männer und Frauen brechen bei den verschiedensten Anlässen in Weinen aus. Interessanterweise gibt es hierbei keinen erkennbaren Unterschied zwischen den Geschlechtern, sehr im Unterschied zu gegenwärtigen Prägungen. Das öffentliche Weinen von Männern ist selbstverständlicher und nie beanstandeter Ausdruck emotionaler und anderer Regungen. Es gehört zu den üblichen Ausdrucksformen in bestimmten Situationen und dies gilt auch für Könige. Wenn hier und im Folgenden von literarischen Inszenierungen gesprochen wird, dann ist damit keineswegs eine bloße äußerliche Zurschaustellung von Haltungen und Emotionen gemeint. Sondern es geht darum, die literarischen Stilisierungen von Emotionen und ihre Funktionen näher zu erfassen. Literarisch zur Darstellung gebrachte Emotionen sind demnach immer literarisch inszenierte Emotionen, insofern innere und äußere Welten und Symbolsysteme zur Erscheinung gebracht werden. 10

2.

Der König weint – altorientalische Beispiele

In den altorientalischen Kulturen sind es wie auch sonst besonders die Situationen der Trauer um Verstorbene und der Totenklage, in denen Könige extensiv weinen. Es sei hier nur an den Beginn des ugaritischen Epos von König Kirta oder an Gilgameschs Klage um Enkidu im jungbabylonischen 12-Tafelepos (Tf. 8) verwiesen. Daneben begegnet schon in sumerischen Texten aus dem 3. Jahrtausend v. Chr. das königliche Weinen als Zeichen der Reue und Buße, mit der Absicht, durch die Demütigung unter die Götter und flehentliches Bitten die Veränderung einer Notsituation zu erreichen.

8

9

10

So hat etwa Silvia Schroer mehrfach darauf hingewiesen, dass die historisch im antiken Israel wie in den angrenzenden Mittelmeerkulturen für die Totenklage wichtigen Klagefrauen bei den literarischen Darstellungen königlicher Trauer in den Samuelbüchern fehlen. Vgl. dies., Trauerriten und Totenklage; dies., Biblische Klagetraditionen. Vgl. für die mesopotamische Literatur Zgoll / Lämmerhirt, Lachen und Weinen; für die biblische Literatur Schroer / Staubli, Weinen und Lachen; Bester, Weinen, für die griechischrömische Literatur den Sammelband von Fögen, Tears. Im Tränen-Diskurs griechischer Philosophie gibt es seit Platon allerdings auch das Urteil, das Tränen unmännlich seien. Vgl. dazu neben Fögen, Tears, auch Naumann, Crying Heros, 17–18. Koch, Trauer und Identität, 48, mit Hinweis auf Wolfgang Iser, Das Fiktive und das Imaginäre.

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Im babylonischen Neujahrsfest, das jedes Jahr im Frühjahr die Etablierung der Weltordnung neu feiert und inszeniert, gibt der König in einem festen Ritualablauf am 5. Tag seine königlichen Insignien (Zepter, Ring, Keule, Krone) an einen Priester ab. Dieser schlägt den König auf die Wange, zieht ihn an den Ohren und lässt ihn vor der Gottheit niederkauern und ein negatives Sündenbekenntnis sprechen, wonach er im vergangenen Jahr seinen königlichen Verpflichtungen gegenüber seinen Göttern und seinem Land nachgekommen sei. Daraufhin bekommt der König die Insignien seiner Herrscherwürde zurück, wird erneut geschlagen. Und erst wenn der König dann weint, wenn seine Tränen frei über seine Wangen laufen, gilt dies als Zeichen dafür, dass die Gottheit sich wohlgefällig zeigt und göttliches Heil seine Herrschaft auch im kommenden Jahr bestimmen wird. Denn nur weinend darf der König auf eine positive Schicksalsentscheidung hoffen. Würde der König nicht weinen, wäre die Gottheit zornig und der König verlöre sein Königtum. 11 Zweifellos handelt es sich um eine Geste der demütigen Unterordnung unter die Macht und den Willen der Götter, aber in der Demonstration der Verletzlichkeit des Königs ist sie zugleich der Ausweis starker Legitimation königlicher Herrschaft durch das durch Demut erreichte Wohlwollen der Götter. Bei den stolzen assyrischen Herrschern indes wird die Erneuerung der königlichen Macht im Frühjahrsfest auf andere Weise rituell inszeniert. Hier ist von Schuldbekenntnissen des Königs und seiner Demütigung unter die Gottheit keine Rede. Dennoch gerät auch der berühmte Assurbanipal (reg. ca. 668–631 v. Chr.), der sich in textlichen und bildlichen Dokumenten gern als strahlender Herrscher darstellt, angesichts einer Kriegsdrohung durch den Elamiter-König Teuman in eine militärische Notlage. Diese bringt ihn dazu, sich im Tempel der Ischtar zu demütigen. In einer Inschrift lässt Assurbanipal verlauten: Hier „flehte ich zur erhabenen Ischtar, stellte mich ihr gegenüber und kauerte mich zu ihren Füßen zusammen, ich betete zu ihrer Gottheit, während meine Tränen flossen.“ Er spricht dann ein längeres Bittgebet, worauf die Göttin Ischtar „meine kummervollen Seufzer“ erhört und spricht: „Weil du deine Hände zu mir erhoben hast, weil deine Augen sich mit Tränen gefüllt haben, erbarme ich mich deiner.“ 12

Auch hier gehört das Weinen des Königs zusammen mit anderen Körpergesten (Kauerns zu den Füßen des Kultbildes; Erheben der Hände im Gebet) zu Akten der Demütigung unter die Gottheit. Sein Weinen ist als Körperreaktion durch das Fließen der Tränen und durch kummervolle Seufzer bestimmt. Es begleitet 11

12

Zgoll / Lämmerhirt, Lachen und Weinen, 451; Ambos, Weinen aus Demut; Zgoll, Königslauf und Götterrat, 11–80. Eine Untersuchung zum Tränenmotiv in akkadischen Gebeten bietet jetzt Bosworth, House of Weeping. Zit. nach Zgoll / Lämmerhirt, Lachen und Weinen, 460. Der vollständige Text ist übersetzt bei Borger, Inschriftenwerk Assurbanipals, 99f.

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und unterstützt sein Gebet, das durch die Geste der erhobenen Hände und eine Sprachhandlung gezeigt wird. Auf die gesamte Inszenierung aus Körper- und Sprachgesten der Unterwerfung und flehentlichen Bitte reagiert die Gottheit mit Wohlwollen. Die Geste des königlichen Weinens wird dabei von der Göttin besonders gewürdigt. Dass der König für sein Bittgebet im Ischtartempel auf ritualisierte Praktiken zurückgreift, ist wahrscheinlich. Auch wenn sein Auftirtt im Tempel einer konkreten Notlage geschuldet ist, wurde er gewiss sorgfältig vorbereitet und ist anschließend öffentlich gemacht worden. Das königliche Weinen ist hier Reaktion und Aktion zugleich. Es eröffnet mit anderen Körpergesten und Sprachhandlungen einen kommunikativen Prozess auf unterschiedlichen Ebenen, bei dem der Beter am Ende bekommt, was er erwartet: Barmherzigkeit und den Beistand der Götter zur Abwehr einer militärischen Gefahr. Es geschieht aber noch mehr als ein dringliches Gebet. Durch seine Demutsgeste vergewissert sich der König in einer Notlage seiner eigenen Rolle innerhalb der göttlich gesetzten Ordnung und er demonstriert sie (über diese Inschrift) auch nach außen, in seinen Hofstaat, in sein Heer hinein, indem er sich für den notwendigen Krieg die Unterstützung Ischtars sichert. Man könnte eine solche Demütigung des Königs vor der Gottheit im Sinne Althoffs als „zwingende Geste“ beschreiben. Der Zeichencharakter seiner Inszenierung ist erfolgreich. Indem er seine Unterwerfung unter die Gottheit inszeniert, stellt er seine kriegerischkönigliche Mächtigkeit angesichts seines Feindes heraus.

3.

Der König weint – Die biblischen Belege

In der hebräischen Bibel werden insgesamt neun Szenen erzählt, in denen der König weint, fünf von ihnen gelten König David. Außerhalb der Samuelbücher finden sich nur drei Szenen. So weint König Joasch vor Elischa (2 Kön 13,14); König Hiskija vor Gott (2 Kön 20,3 par. Jes 38,3; vgl. auch 2 Chr 32,24–26); König Joschija vor Gott (2 Kön 22,19 par. 2 Chr 34,27). In diesen Szenen geht es besonders um die königliche Demütigung vor der Gottheit (oder seines Propheten), um eine persönliche oder politische Notlage abzuwenden. In den Samuelbüchern sind die Anlässe vielfältiger: Hier weint König Saul vor David in En-Gedi (1 Sam 24,17). Bevor David König wird, weint dieser beim Abschied von seinem Freund Jonatan (1 Sam 20,41); mit seinen Kriegern (1 Sam 30,4) angesichts des Überfalls der Amalekiter auf Ziklag sowie um den Tod Jonatans und Sauls (2 Sam 1,12). 13 Als König weint David um Abner (2 Sam 3,32); vor Gott, um das Leben seines kranken Kindes zu retten (2 Sam 12,21); zusammen mit seinen der Gefahr entronnenen Söhnen (2 Sam 13,36); bei seiner Flucht aus Jerusalem 13

Ich lasse diese Belege hier beiseite, weil David darin noch nicht als König handelt.

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(2 Sam 15,32) sowie um seinen getöteten Sohn Abschalom, der sein Feind geworden war (2 Sam 19,1–6). Für die Vorgänge des Weinens stehen in lexikographischer Hinsicht im Hebräischen vor allem die Verben hebr. bakāh – „weinen/beweinen“ zur Verfügung, sowie seltener hebr. dama‘ – „Tränen vergießen“. Von letzterem Verbstamm wird das Nomen dim‘āh – „Träne“ gebildet. Mit Weinen ist offenbar eine Körperreaktion gemeint, bei der Tränen fließen und laut geschluchzt, gejammert oder gewehklagt wird. Eine Sprachhandlung im engeren Sinn wird mit hebr. bakāh nicht notwendig verbunden, wenngleich im Umfeld von hebr. bakāh auch safad oder nûd – „klagen, einen Toten beklagen“, d. h. „Trauergesänge rituell vortragen“, begegnet. Lexikographisch wird im biblischen Hebräisch zwischen „weinen“ und „beweinen“ kein Unterschied gemacht. Dieser kann allein aus dem literarischen Zusammenhang erhoben werden. 14

3.1

König Joschija weint und demütigt sich vor Gott

Die gerade erörterte Szene Assurbanipals entspricht ziemlich genau der Demütigung und Buße König Joschijas (reg. ca. 639–609 v. Chr.) angesichts des angekündigten göttlichen Zorns über Jerusalem. Der König bekommt daher von der Prophetin Hulda das folgende Gotteswort ausgerichtet: „Weil dein Herz weich (hebr. rakak) geworden ist und du dich gedemütigt (hebr. kana‘) hast vor dem Angesicht Gottes, als du meine Worte hörtest gegen diesen Ort und gegen seine Einwohner und dich vor mir gedemütigt hast und deine Kleider zerrissen und vor meinem Angesicht geweint hast, so habe ich dich auch erhört, spricht Jhwh.“ (2 Kön 22,19 par. 2 Chr 34,27)

Auch hier gehört das königliche Weinen zusammen mit anderen Gesten der Selbstminderung, 15 dem Zerreißen der Kleider zu einer rituellen Praxis der Demütigung und Reue vor der Gottheit. Dem König kommt ein göttliches Unheilsorakel über die Stadt Jerusalem und seine Einwohner zu Ohren. Daraufhin wird Joschija als König aktiv und versucht durch ein entsprechendes Auf14 15

Vgl. Stolz, Art. ‫ בכה‬bkh, 313–316; Bester, Weinen; Schroer / Staubli, Weinen und Lachen. Der Begriff der „Selbstminderung“ ist durch Kutsch, „Trauerbräuche“ und „Selbstminderungsriten“, in die Bibelwissenschaft eingeführt worden. Er beschreibt verschiedene Körpergesten, die alle mit der Herabsetzung des eigenen Status zu tun haben und in Krisenfällen wie Trauer, Krankheit, politische oder wirtschaftlichen Notlagen oder als Körperausdruck der Reue und Buße eingesetzt wurden. Sie verändern den Habitus einer Person in der betreffenden Zeit grundlegend. Biblisch bezeugte Selbstminderungsgesten sind etwa das Zerreißen der Kleidung, Barfußgehen, in ein Sacktuch hüllen, das Scheren oder Ausraufen der Haare, das Verhüllen von Kopf und Gesicht, der Verzicht auf Körperpflege oder Nahrung (Fasten), das Schlagen an die Brust oder an die Hüfte, das Einritzen der Haut, das Sitzen oder Schlafen auf dem blanken Erdboden oder in der Asche. Bis auf das Scheren einer Glatze sind alle diese Gesten auch außerhalb der Trauer um Tote belegt. Vgl. Olyan, Biblical Mourning; auch Köhlmoos, In tiefer Trauer, 381–394.

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treten im Tempel („vor Gott“) stellvertretend für die Stadt Jerusalem die göttliche Entscheidung zu ändern. Neben dem Weinen vor Gott und dem Zerreißen der Kleider wird ein spezielles Klage- oder Bittgebet als Sprachhandlung nicht erwähnt. Körpergesten der Selbstminderung dominieren die literarische Inszenierung. 16 Daraufhin attestiert ihm Gott ein „weiches Herz“. Es ist das Gegenteil eines „harten, verhärteten Herzens“, das sich dem göttlichen Willen verschließt 17 und bezieht sich auf das Treueverhältnis des Königs zu seinem Gott, nicht etwa auf die machtpolitischen Entscheidungen als männlich-königlicher Herrscher. Als König tritt Joschija stellvertretend für Jerusalem und seine Bewohner ein. Er wirft seine ganze Autorität als Herrscher in die Waagschale und die Gottheit würdigt diese königliche Demütigung. Allerdings erlangt König Joschija keine Verschonung der Stadt, auch keinen Aufschub, sondern nur das göttliche Versprechen, selbst früher zu sterben, damit er nicht das Unheil erleben muss, das Jerusalem treffen wird. Mit diesem Ergebnis wird zwar sein individuelles Verhalten als König gewürdigt, aber eigentlich misslingt der Auftritt Joschijas vor Gott, denn als König hat er das politische Ziel, Unheil von der Stadt Jerusalem abzuwehren. Als „zwingende Geste“ führt Joschijas Weinen nicht zum gewünschten Erfolg.

3.2

Der kranke König Hiskija weint vor Gott

Ähnlich liegen die Dinge bei König Hiskija (reg. ca. 725–697 v. Chr.). Von diesem wird erzählt, dass er im Zusammenhang der assyrischen Belagerung Jerusalems todkrank wird, worauf der Prophet Jesaja mit einem göttlichen Unheilswort zu ihm kommt: 1 In jenen Tagen wurde Hiskija todkrank. Da kam Jesaja, der Sohn des Amoz, der Prophet, zu ihm und sprach zu ihm: So spricht Jhwh: „Bestell dein Haus, denn du stirbst und wirst nicht überleben.“ 2 Da drehte er sein Angesicht zur Wand und betete zu Jhwh: 3 „Ach Jhwh, denk doch daran, dass ich treu und mit ungeteiltem Herzen vor dir gelebt habe und dass ich getan habe, was gut ist in deinen Augen.“ Und Hiskija weinte heftig. 4 Jesaja aber hatte den mittleren Hof (des Palastes) noch nicht verlassen, da erging an ihn das Wort Jhwhs: 5 „Kehr um und sprich zu Hiskija, dem Fürsten meines Volks: So spricht Jhwh, der Gott Davids, deines Vorfahren: 16

17

Das „Weinen vor Gott“ ist in Ri 20,23.26 zusammenfassender Hinweis auf eine im Tempel stattfindende rituelle Klage („bis zum Abend“), zu der noch weitere ritualisierte Praktiken wie Fasten, Opfer, Gottesbefragungen oder Gelübde gehören. Das Herz ist in der hebräischen Anthropologie nicht der Sitz des Gefühls, sondern des Willens, das Zentrum einer Person und seiner Entscheidungskraft. Vgl. jetzt Janowski, Anthropologie, 2019. Zu hebr. rkk vgl. Kellermann, Art. rākak, 519–21. Ein ähnlicher Ausdruck noch in 2 Sam 3,39 (s. unten Kapitel 3.5).

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Im Alten Orient ist jede Erkrankung des Herrschers von eminent politischem Interesse, weil Wohl und Wehe eines Landes von seinem körperlichen Wohlbefinden abhängen. Hier aber scheint es bereits zu spät zu sein, denn der Prophet kann dem kranken König nur noch den von Gott verhängten nahen Tod ankündigen, für den kein Grund mitgeteilt wird. Jedoch findet sich Hiskija mit diesem Urteil Gottes nicht ab und versucht durch ein Gebet seinen persönlichen Schutzgott, der zugleich Staatsgott ist, zur Änderung seiner Entscheidung zu bewegen. Der todkranke König dreht sich spontan auf seinem Krankenlager zur Wand, entzieht sich dem Kontakt mit Jesaja oder auch der Kommunikation mit seinen Höflingen und betet für sich unter heftigem Weinen zu seinem Gott. An diesem Gebet fällt auf, dass es keine Bitte um Genesung oder Verschonung vor dem nahen Tod beinhaltet, sondern das Bekenntnis eines „Frommen“. Hiskija erinnert Gott nur daran, dass er stets als untadeliger König gelebt habe. Er ist offenbar der Meinung, dass ein vorzeitiger Tod 18 einem so gottgefälligen Leben nicht angemessen ist. Aber diesen Gedanken, der genau besehen einen Vorwurf an Gott enthält, spricht er nicht aus, sondern verweist nur auf sein gottgemäßes Leben. Sein heftiges Weinen begleitet als unterstützende Körperreaktion die Sprachhandlung seines Gebets. Hiskijas Weinen wird hier nicht eingebunden in weitere Gesten ritueller Selbstminderung, sondern ist unmittelbar emotionaler Ausdruck des Schmerzes eines Kranken auf seinem Krankenbett. Worin dieser Schmerz genau begründet liegt, ist nicht exakt auszumachen: Ist es die Angst vor dem nahen Tod und dem Weg in die Unterwelt? 19 Denkbar ist aber auch, dass Hiskija die Härte des Prophetenwortes angesichts seiner untadeligen Lebensbilanz als Ungerechtigkeit empfindet, oder die Not seines bedrängten Volkes, dem er als König nicht mehr beistehen kann. Auf das letztere führt der Ausgang der Episode. Denn Gott reagiert unmittelbar auf Hiskijas Beten und Weinen, das er hört und sieht (V. 5). Umgehend wird der Prophet Jesaja, der den Palast noch nicht verlassen hatte, zurück geschickt – mit einer Änderung des göttlichen Beschlusses: Hiskija soll gesund werden und noch 15 Jahre leben. Und mit ihm soll die bedrohte Stadt Jerusalem gerettet und beschützt werden. Das Geschick Hiskijas wird hier mit dem Geschick seiner Hauptstadt parallel gesetzt: „Der 18 19

Vgl. zu diesem Thema Leuenberger, Das Problem des vorzeitigen Todes.

In der Parallelüberlieferung (Jes 38) ist dieser Episode ein Psalm angefügt, in dem Hiskija den vorzeitigen Tod „in der Mitte des Lebens“ mit deutlichen Schilderungen der gottfernen Unterwelt beklagt. Für die frühen Redaktoren ist dies offenbar der Grund für Hiskijas Schmerz und sein Weinen.

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kranke König ist Repräsentant seines Volkes geworden, dessen Schicksal an den Glauben des Königs gebunden und in seinem Schicksal dargestellt ist.“ 20 Im königlichen Körper bildet sich das politische Schicksal Jerusalems ab. Indem er gesundet, wird das kollektive Unheil abgewendet. Das göttliche Erhörungsorakel „Ich habe dein Gebet erhört, ich habe deine Tränen gesehen“ zeigt die deutliche Parallelität von Hiskijas Gebet und seinem Weinen. Während das Gebet Hiskijas als Sprechhandlung aufgefasst wird, die Gott hören kann, wird das königliche heftige Weinen, als Körpergeste aufgefasst, die von Gott „gesehen“ wird. In jedem Fall tut hier Hiskija, was die altorientalischen Könige selbstverständlich tun, indem sie sich in persönlichen oder politischen Notlagen als treue Diener ihrer Götter in Szene setzen, sich vor ihnen demütigen und sie unter Tränen bestürmen, die Notlage abzuwenden. Obwohl Hiskijas Gebet kein öffentliches ist und auch nicht in ein wiederholbares kultisches Ritual eingebunden ist, sondern als privates Krankengebet gezeigt wird, so wird es doch über die literarische Repräsentation zu einem öffentlichen Akt seiner Bedürftigkeit und Verletzlichkeit.21 Hiskija akzeptiert einen göttlichen Beschluss im Blick auf seine Person nicht und interveniert mit Gebet und Weinen als „zwingender Geste“ erfolgreich, insofern er die Gottheit zu einer Änderung seines Urteils bewegen kann.

3.3

König Joasch weint vor dem todkranken Propheten Elischa

In 2 Kön 13,14–20 wird erzählt, wie der Prophet Elischa todkrank wird, schließlich stirbt und dass nach seinem Tod selbst noch seine Knochen Wundertaten wirkten. Als der nordisraelitische König Joasch (reg. ca. 802–787 v. Chr.) von der Krankheit Elischas erfährt, kommt er von der Hauptstadt Samaria herab ins Jordantal, um den sterbenden Propheten zu besuchen: „Er weinte über seinem Angesicht 22 und sprach: Mein Vater, mein Vater! Du Streitwagen Israels und sein Gespann!“ (V. 14). Die konkrete Szene wird nicht näher geschildert. Anzunehmen ist, dass sich der König mit Gefolge aus der Hauptstadt aufmacht, um dem abseits der großen Städte am Jordan lebenden Propheten seine Aufwartung zu machen. Über dessen tödliche Krankheit offenbar vorab informiert, tritt er an das Lager Elischas und weint „über seinem Angesicht“, womit vielleicht auch ein Körperkontakt angezeigt wird. Allerdings 20 21

22

Kustár, Durch seine Wunden, 141; Bender, Krankheit im Königshaus, 48–68. Zum Weinen in alttestamentlichen Gebeten vgl. Bosworth, House of Weeping, 89-134. Freilich blieb dies nicht unwidersprochen. Während die Parallelen in 2 Kön 20 und Jes 38 Hiskijas Bittgebet bei seiner Erkrankung sehr positiv und wirksam einschätzen, wertet 2 Chr 32,25f. diese Szene als Akt der Überhebung des Herzens, die den göttlichen Zorn erst hervorbringt, der dann später durch weitere Demutsübungen Hiskijas abgewendet werden muss. Möglicherweise war den Chronisten Hiskijas Beteuerung seiner Unschuld vor Gott theologisch nicht geheuer. Der Ausdruck hebr. ʻal pānâw (auf/über seinem Angesicht) ist ungewöhnlich und begegnet nur hier. Zur Verbindung mit der Präposition hebr. al vgl. Gen 42,24; 45,14–15; 50,1; 1 Sam 1,7.

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spielt in der ganzen Szene die Krankheit Elischas oder sein künftiges Ergehen keinerlei Rolle. König Joasch zeigt auch keinerlei Anteilnahme am Geschick des todkranken Propheten. Es geht ausschließlich um die politischen Anliegen des Königs, für die er den noch lebenden Propheten offenbar braucht. In der klagenden doppelten Anrede „mein Vater“ wird die engst mögliche persönliche Bindung des Königs ausgedrückt, der sich als Sohn des Propheten ansieht und sich diesem damit hierarchisch unterordnet. Zugleich wird ein politisches Anliegen sichtbar, wenn ein amtierender König, der selbst als „Hirte“ und „Vater“ seines Volkes gilt, einen anderen als „seinen Vater“ bezeichnet. 23 Joaschs Anliegen kommt dann sogleich in dem seltsamen Ehrentitel „Streitwagen Israels und sein Gespann“ 24 zur Sprache. Denn dieser martialische Würdetitel reflektiert Elischas Bedeutsamkeit als militärischen Führer. Die Szene gehört zu einer literarischen Überlieferung, die den Propheten Elischa als militärpolitisch einflussreiche Beraterfigur in den Kriegen Nordisraels mit den Aramäern von Damaskus in der Mitte des 9. Jh. v. Chr. ansieht. 25 Es ist diese militärische Kompetenz Elischas, die König Joasch offenbar jetzt fehlt und die er weinend beklagt. Indem er sie beklagt, ruft er sie noch einmal zu Hilfe. Interessanterweise wird eine Bitte um göttliche Unterstützung in einer konkreten militärischen Notlage gar nicht formuliert und doch weiß der Prophet bereits Bescheid über den eigentlichen Grund des königlichen Besuches. Er lässt Joasch eine magische Handlung ausführen, die den Sieg über den Feind herbeiführen soll, wenn er von Joasch fordert, das Fenster zu öffnen, einen „Siegespfeil für Jhwh und gegen Aram“ nach Osten abzuschießen, wobei Elischa seine Hände auf die den Bogen führenden Hände des Königs legt (V. 17). Diese magische Kraftübertragung führt dann zur Ansage eines Sieges: „Du wirst Aram vernichtend schlagen!“ Allerdings macht der König bei einem weiteren Ritual, bei dem die Pfeile auf die Erde geschlagen werden müssen, einen Ritualfehler, der den Zorn Elischas heraufbeschwört und den König einen endgültigen Sieg kostet. Dennoch gehört auch dieser Auftritt eines weinenden Königs zur Kategorie der Demütigung unter die Gottheit (hier seines kranken Repräsentanten), um eine politische Notlage abzuwenden. Elischa wird als Medium und Mittler zur Gott23

24 25

Dass Elischa von israelitischen wie von aramäischen Königen als „Vater“ angeredet wird, begegnet noch mehrfach (2 Kön 6,21; 8,9; 13,14). Der aramäische König Hasael von Damaskus (reg. ca. 843–803 v. Chr.) demütigt sich gegenüber Elischa sogar als „Knecht“ und „Hund“ (2 Kön 8,13). Zu diesem Titel vgl. Weingart, My Father. Diese politischen Konflikte spielen auch in 2 Kön 6,8–23; 2 Kön 6,24–7,20 eine Rolle. Elischa erscheint darin in einer prophetischen Funktion als derjenige, der über Erkenntnisse verfügt, die dem Normalsterblichen nicht zur Verfügung stehen. So kann er über den Fortgang von Kriegen Auskunft geben (2 Kön 3; 13,14–19) oder über die Pläne gegnerischer Könige (2 Kön 6,12) ebenso wie über das Ende der Belagerung Samarias (2 Kön 7,1). Er salbt und legitimiert den nordisraelitischen Putsch-General Jehu (2 Kön 9). Aber seine Dienste werden auch von der aramäischen Gegenseite bei einem gewaltsamen Thronwechsel (von Bar Hadad zu Hasael) in Anspruch genommen (2 Kön 8,7–15). So zeigt sich an vielen Stellen der Überlieferung eine (militär-)politisch hervorragende Rolle dieses Propheten.

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heit gebraucht. Während die drei bisher behandelten biblischen Szenen in vielem ähnlich sind, zeigen sich in den Samuelbüchern in insgesamt sechs Szenen sehr verschiedene Anlässe königlichen Weinens. Eine von ihnen betrifft König Saul, die andern König David.

3.4

König Saul bricht angesichts von Davids Großmut in EnGedi in Tränen aus

Innerhalb der Überlieferung vom Aufstieg Davids wird erzählt, wie König Saul den Goliattöter David zu seinem Heerführer und Schwiegersohn gemacht hatte, ihn dann aber aus Gründen der Eifersucht nicht nur in die Flucht zwang, sondern sogar eine militärische Streitmacht aufbot, David ausfindig zu machen, der sich als Bandenchef einer ansehnlichen Gruppe sozial deklassierter Männer in der judäischen Wüste aufhielt. Die Überlieferung hat ein erkennbares Interesse daran, zu zeigen, dass sich David stets loyal gegenüber dem König gezeigt hat, nie als ein Feind und Widersacher Sauls aufgetreten ist, mithin von diesem völlig unschuldig verfolgt und mit dem Leben bedroht wurde. Dies wird in zwei sehr ähnlich gestalteten Episoden gezeigt, in denen David jeweils die Chance erhält, seinen Verfolger zu töten, von seinen Männern auch dazu gedrängt wird, dies aber nicht tut und damit Saul gegenüber öffentlich seine Unschuld und seinen Großmut demonstriert. Beide Male bereut Saul die Verfolgung Davids, erkennt in David den von Gott erwählten künftigen König und bricht die Verfolgung ab – um sie alsbald darauf wieder aufzunehmen. In den Reden, die David jeweils hält, wird das Ideal eines Königs ausgebildet, das den Königsmord ablehnt, den amtierenden König als „Gottes Gesalbten“ für unantastbar und sakrosankt hält und Konflikte durch Großmut gegenüber dem Feind löst. Während in der zweiten Episode (1 Sam 26) David in einem wagemutigen nächtlichen Handstreich in das Militärlager Sauls eindringt und vom Kopfende des schlafenden König Speer und Wasserkrug entwendet, ist in der ersten Episode (1 Sam 24) die Situation ebenso wagemutig, aber etwas rustikaler: König Saul verfolgt David mit großer Heeresmacht in den Bergen von En-Gedi. Um seine Notdurft zu verrichten, zieht sich Saul in eine der Höhlen zurück, ohne zu ahnen, dass sich David mit seinen Männern im hinteren Teil dieser Höhle versteckt hielt. Davids Männer fordern: Töte ihn! Die Gelegenheit ist günstig wie nie zuvor. Gott habe den Feind heute in Davids Hand gegeben (V. 5). David hält seine Männer mit scharfen Worten zurück, schleicht aber gleichwohl zum „hockenden König“ und schneidet ihm unbemerkt ein Stück seines Mantels ab, das er später als Faustpfand seiner Unschuld brauchen wird. Er hätte den König töten können, aber er hat ihn verschont. Deshalb soll der König auch ihn verschonen und die Verfolgung Davids abbrechen. Als Saul die Höhle verlassen hatte, tritt David aus der Höhle und spricht Saul vor dem Forum seiner 3000 Soldaten direkt an. Dabei fällt er vor

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dem König auf sein Angesicht nieder (Proskynese) und verbindet mit dieser Demuts- und Unterwerfungsgeste eine längere Rede, in der er Saul als „meinen Herrn und König“ und als „meinen Vater“ anredet und beteuert, völlig grundlos verfolgt zu werden. Mit dem Mantelzipfel 26 beweist er, dass er Saul hätte töten können, dies aber nicht getan habe, weil er seine Hand nicht gegen den König („den Gesalbten Gottes“) erhebt: „Sieh, mein Vater […] Erkenne und sieh, dass in meiner Hand nichts Böses ist und kein Vergehen […]. Du aber stellst mir nach, um mir das Leben zu nehmen“ (V. 12). Daraufhin wird die folgende Reaktion Sauls berichtet: 17 Und als David diese Worte zu Saul gesprochen hatte, sagte Saul: „Ist das deine Stimme, mein Sohn David?“ Und Saul erhob seine Stimme und weinte 18 und sprach zu David: „Du bist gerechter als ich, denn du hast Gutes für mich getan, ich aber habe dir Böses angetan. […] Was du am heutigen Tag für mich getan hast, vergelte dir Jhwh mit Gutem. 21 Und nun sieh, ich weiß es gewiss, du wirst König werden, und das Königtum über Israel wird Bestand haben in deiner Hand. 22 Und nun schwöre mir bei Jhwh, dass du meine Nachkommen nach mir nicht ausrotten und dass du meinen Namen nicht tilgen wirst aus dem Haus meines Vaters.“ 23 Und David schwor es Saul. Dann zog Saul zu seinem Haus, David aber und seine Männer zogen zur Festung hinauf. (1 Sam 24,17–23*)

In dieser Zufallsbegegnung in der Wüste zeigt sich eine sorgfältige literarische Inszenierung, in welcher der kommende König dem amtierenden König vor dem öffentlichen Forum von dessen Heeresmacht begegnet. David demonstriert seine unbedingte Loyalität durch die Körpergeste der Unterwerfung (Proskynese), die Ansprache Sauls als „Herr und Vater“, seine Unschuldsrede samt Beweisstück und den Hinweis auf den Richterspruch Gottes. Er tritt als moralisch Überlegener auf. Gleichwohl macht sich David aber auch verletzlich und angreifbar, den Waffen seines Verfolgers und dessen Heeresmacht ausgeliefert. Auf diese gut inszenierte „zwingende Geste“ hin reagiert Sauls erwartungsgemäß fassungslos: „Ist das deine Stimme, mein Sohn 27 David?“, und bricht dann in lautes Weinen aus. Es ist das einzige Mal, dass Sauls Weinen erwähnt wird. 26

27

Auch das Abschneiden des Mantelzipfels ist keineswegs harmlos, weil es den Status und die Unantastbarkeit des Königs, die David doch so stark betont, verletzt. Der Erzähler betont, wie deshalb Davids Gewissen (sein Herz) schlägt (V. 6). In der Erzählung ist der Mantelzipfel aber in erster Linie Beweis von Davids Gewaltverzicht, kaum ein Angriff auf die Integrität der königlichen Autorität, auf das Königtum Sauls oder gar eine symbolische „Entmannung“. Vgl. Dietrich, 1 Sam 13–26, 717f. Saul beschämend ist die Szene aber allemal. In der Anrede „mein Sohn“ nimmt Saul Davids Anrede „mein Vater“ auf.

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Und es wird als spontane Körperreaktion eines Schocks gezeigt, den Saul in seiner Erwiderungsrede erst allmählich bändigen kann. Warum Saul hier weint, wird nicht genau gesagt. Auch dieses Weinen speist sich aus unterschiedlichen Quellen. Es bieten sich verschiedene Gründe an: die schockartige Einsicht in die eigene Lebensgefahr und den offensichtlichen Großmut Davids in einer für Saul äußerst kompromittierenden Situation; 28 die Erkenntnis, wie falsch er gegenüber David bisher gehandelt hat, dass er Gutes mit Bösem vergolten hat; der Schmerz darüber, dass er die Unterstützung seines Gottes und sein Königtum verloren hat; die aus dieser Szene resultierende tiefe Demütigung (und soziale Degradierung) des Königs, die er vor seinem versammelten Heer durch einen moralisch überlegenden Gegner erfährt u. a. m. Jedenfalls bestätigt Saul in seiner Reaktion, dass Davids Darstellung der Wahrheit entspricht, und gelobt Besserung. Auch König Saul löst diese prekäre Situation nicht durch die Macht seiner überlegenen Waffen, sondern durch Einsicht und Reue. Es zeigt sich aber zugleich, dass die politischen Verhältnisse neu justiert werden, denn der durch die Großmut seines Feindes geschockte und weinende Saul zieht eine ungewöhnliche machtpolitische Konsequenz: Vor versammeltem Heer und in Anerkennung der moralischen Überlegenheit Davids spricht er diesem das Königtum zu. Bisher hatte Saul den beliebten und politisch geschickten Aufsteiger töten wollen, damit dieser sein Königtum nicht gefährdet. Nun anerkennt er ihn als künftigen König in Israel, dessen Königtum Bestand haben und nicht wie sein eigenes eine kurze Episode bleiben wird. 29 Damit bildet diese Szene vor der Notdurft-Höhle bei En-Gedi einen „turning point“ der gesamten Überlieferung vom Aufstieg Davids zum König. 30 Saul anerkennt öffentlich, dass David nicht Usurpator eines fremden Thrones, sondern rechtmäßiger König werden wird. Ein Thronverzicht Sauls ist damit allerdings nicht verbunden. Und auch wenn Saul diese Einsicht alsbald vergessen und die Verfolgung Davids wieder aufnehmen wird, so wird die Rechtmäßigkeit von Davids künftigem Königtum durch Saul hier erstmals erkannt und vor allem, in einer öffentlichen Szene vor seinem Heer deklariert. 31 Ebenso interessant ist die zweite Einlassung Sauls, der von David einen Eid abverlangt, als König die Familie seines Vorgängers nicht auszurotten. Im Hintergrund dieser Forderung steht die berechtigte Sorge, dass Usurpatoren auf dem Königsthron nicht selten die Familien ihrer Vorgänger beseitigen, was auch 28

29 30 31

Könige bei Verrichtung ihrer Notdurft zu zeigen, ist literarisches Mittel der Beschämung und gehört nicht zum Stil altorientalischer Königsüberlieferung. Ri 4,15–26 erzählt voller Ironie einen Königsmord auf dem Abort. Dass Sauls Königtum keinen Bestand haben wird, also keine Dynastie bildet, bekam Saul schon in 1 Sam 13,14 vom zornigen Propheten Samuel gesagt. Eine ausführliche Betrachtung dieses Textes findet sich jetzt bei Dietrich, 1Sam 13–26, 688–731. Sauls Abtretung seines Königtums an David hat schon einen Vorläufer. Jonatan, Sohn Sauls, Kronprinz und Davids intimer Freund hatte bei seinem tränenreichen Abschied von David auf freiem Feld (1 Sam 20,13–15) ein ähnliches Versprechen eingefordert.

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die biblische Königsüberlieferung kennt. 32 Auch David hatte seine Familie vor den Nachstellungen Sauls ins Exil ins transjordanische Moab vorsorglich in Sicherheit gebracht (1 Sam 22,3–4). Im Hintergrund steht der auch biblisch erhobene Vorwurf, dass an Davids Händen das Blut des Hauses Sauls klebt (2 Sam 16,7–8). Diesen Vorwurf will die Erzählung entkräften, indem David diesen Eid leistet, die Nachkommen Sauls nicht zu töten. 33 Sauls Weinen hat keinen rituellen, sondern einen spontanen Charakter. Als öffentlicher Ausdruck eines Schocks ist es Teil einer politischen Kommunikation, in der Saul nicht nur sein feindliches Verhalten bereut, sondern öffentlich vor dem Forum seines Heeres das kommende Königtum Davids anerkennt, von diesem aber zugleich verlangt, dass David die Saul gegenüber gezeigte Großmut auch auf seine Nachkommen überträgt. 34

3.5

König David beweint den Tod Abners in Hebron

David ist inzwischen König von Juda in Hebron geworden. Zwischen ihm und dem „Nachfolgestaat“ Sauls („Haus Sauls“) vollzieht sich ein siebenjähriger „Bruderkrieg“. Sauls alter Heerführer Abner ben Ner, der starke Mann des „Hauses Sauls“, hatte nach Sauls Tod dessen Sohn Isch-Boschet zum König eingesetzt und führte den Kampf gegen das „Haus David“. Angesichts der fortschreitenden Dauer des Konflikts und der Erfolge Davids suchte Abner eine Verhandlungslösung mit David, die er mit den Ältesten Israels (der Machtbasis im „Haus Sauls“) abgestimmt hatte. In diesen Verhandlungen trägt er David das Königtum auch über das „Haus Sauls“ an (V. 17). David willigt ein und das Ganze wird in Davids Königsstadt Hebron mit einem Gastmahl bekräftigt. Nachdem die Delegation Abners wieder abgezogen war, kommt Davids General Joab von einem Beutezug zurück. Er sieht diesen Friedensschluss mit Abner als Betrug an, zumal Abner Joabs Bruder Asael im Kampf getötet hatte. Eigenmächtig lässt er Abner verfolgen und ohne Wissen Davids (V. 26) nach Hebron zurückbringen, wo er ihn im Winkel des Stadttores ersticht. David reagiert darauf mit Zorn und der Verfluchung Joabs (V. 28–29). Danach wird ein öffentliches Trauer- und Begräbnisritual für Abner geschildert, das David organisiert, anführt, und so öffentlich 32 33

34

Vgl. Ri 9,5; 2 Kön 11,1–3. Schon Kronprinz Jonatan hatte dem Freund das Versprechen abgenommen, im Falle seines Todes barmherzig gegenüber seinen Nachkommen zu sein (1 Sam 20,14.42) und später wird gezeigt (2 Sam 9,25–31; 19,25–31), wie ernst David diese Verpflichtung nimmt. David hält seine Schwüre, während Saul die David gegebenen Schwüre immer wieder bricht (1 Sam 19,4–8; 26). Außerhalb dieser epischen Überlieferung allerdings begegnet eine Tradition, nach der David sieben Männer aus dem Haus Sauls (zwei Söhne und fünf Enkel) als Sühne wegen einer Blutschuld an den Gibeonitern umbringen lässt und nur Jonatans Sohn wegen seines Schwures in 1 Sam 20 verschont (2 Sam 21,1–14). Über den historischen David, der vermutlich Usurpator von Sauls Königtum war, ist damit freilich nichts gesagt, sondern nur über den hier literarisch präsentierten David.

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seine Unschuld am Tod Abners vor dem Volk beweist (V. 31–37). Und endlich gesteht der König seine politische Schwäche gegenüber dem Mörder Abners ein (V. 38). Diese drei Szenen sind literarisch sorgfältig durchkomponiert und aufeinander abgestimmt. Auch wenn das königliche Weinen nur im mittleren Teil begegnet, müssen im Blick auf die politische Kommunikation alle drei Szenen untersucht werden. 35 Davids Fluch 27 Und Abner kehrte nach Hebron zurück, und Joab ließ ihn zur Seite des Stadttores abbiegen, um ungestört mit ihm zu reden. Und dort stach er ihn in den Bauch, und er starb für das Blut Asaels, des Bruders Joabs. 28 Und (wenig) später hörte David davon, und er sprach: „Unschuldig bin ich und (ist) mein Königtum vor Jhwh für immer am Blut Abners, des Sohns des Ner. 29) Es komme auf das Haupt Joabs und auf das ganze Haus seines Vaters! Und es soll im Haus Joabs nie an einem fehlen, der an Ausfluss leidet, der aussätzig ist, der die Spindel hält, der durch das Schwert fällt oder nichts zu essen hat!“ 30 Joab aber und Abischai, sein Bruder, hatten Abner umgebracht, weil dieser Asael, ihren Bruder, im Krieg bei Gibeon getötet hatte. (2 Sam 3,27–30)

Als David vom Mord an Abner erfährt, reagiert er mit großem Zorn. Allerdings geht seinem Fluch über Joab noch eine sehr rationale Bekundung voraus, denn David realisiert sofort die politische Auswirkung dieser Tat. Immerhin geht es um Mord im Rahmen von Friedensverhandlungen, was einen klaren Grund für die Fortsetzung des Krieges liefern müsste. David versucht das für ihn sehr günstige Verhandlungsergebnis zu retten und beginnt seine Verfluchung des Mörders mit dem Bekenntnis seiner Unschuld und der seines Königtums. Von vornherein soll der sich aufdrängende Verdacht abgewiesen werden, dass David und sein Haus oder sein Königtum hinter diesem Mord stehen. Dafür wird die Gottheit zum Zeugen aufgerufen. Es ist das erste Mal, dass David nach seiner Erhebung zum König über Juda seine eigene Königsherrschaft reflektiert, die er hier offenbar insgesamt in Gefahr sieht und um die er kämpfen muss. Und in der Tat erzeugt die bisherige Erzählung den Eindruck, dass nach dem langen Bruderkrieg beide Kriegsparteien kampfesmüde und bereit waren, diesen Krieg zu beenden, während Joab offenbar nicht im Interesse der königlichen Herrschaft reagiert hat, sondern in der Sicht des Erzählers (nicht Davids!) einer persönlichen Blutrache-Agenda folgte. Nach diesem Unschuldsbekenntnis wird Joab und das Haus seines Vaters mit kraftvollen Worten verflucht. Der Fluch ist mehr als ein Kraftausdruck des Zorns, sondern eine wirkmächtige Schwächung des 35

Zur Orientierung in den neueren Interpretationen von 2 Sam 3 kann wieder auf die ausführliche Darstellung von Dietrich, 1 Sam 27-2 Samuel 8, 359–417, verwiesen werden, der auch die neueste Forschungsliteratur verzeichnet.

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Gegners, seines Ergehens, seines Status und seiner Ehre. Das vergossene Blut Abners soll sich nicht nur am Mörder individuell, sondern am Ergehen der JoabFamilie unmittelbar und fortdauernd auswirken (Kollektivhaftung). Und es soll am Haus David nicht zu Auswirkung gelangen. Der Grundsatz individueller Vergeltung, wonach die frevelhafte Tat zum Täter zurückkehrt, ist hier gesprengt. Der erste Fluchwunsch orientiert sich an Sexuellem (krankhafter Ausfluss). Seine maskulinen Formen lassen nicht an Frauen mit Menstruationsbeschwerden denken, sondern an Geschlechtskrankheiten von Männern (etwa fluor genitalis). 36 Daneben werden sozial deklassierende Krankheiten (Aussatz), Verluste im Krieg und durch Hunger angedroht. Die Wendung, „es soll an keinem fehlen, der die Spindel hält“, ist merkwürdig. Die altgriechische Septuaginta übersetzt die Wendung mit „der nach dem Stock greift“ und denkt an körperlich versehrte Männer (Krüppel). 37 Näher liegt es, hier an eine entehrende Feminisierung der Männer in Joabs Haus zu denken. Die Spindel ist das Werkzeug von Frauen, das statusbewusste Männer nie in die Hand nehmen. Eine solche entehrende Feminisierung wird etwa in Jer 51,30 den Kriegern Babylons angedroht und sie findet sich auch in den Fluchkatalogen altorientalischer Verträge. 38 Die Dynamiken von Davids Zorn verbinden Unschuldsbeteuerung und eine Verfluchung von Joabs Haus „auf Dauer“. Es wird aber keine Sanktion erwähnt, die den Täter selbst treffen würde. Darf aber ein König, der als Herrscher agieren will, eine solche Mordtat ungesühnt lassen? Ist der Fluch nur zornige Rede, dessen Androhungen folgenlos bleiben? So scheint es. Auch die weitere Erzählung zeigt an keiner Stelle irgendwelche Auswirkungen dieses Fluches auf Joab. Nirgends wird er von David öffentlich als Mörder angesprochen, geschweige denn zur Rechenschaft gezogen. Wenig später wird David seine Schwäche gegenüber seinem machtvollen Heerführer eingestehen (V. 38–39) und auch weiterhin bleibt Joab ein machtpolitisch schweres Problem für David, dessen er bis zu seinem Tod nicht Herr werden konnte (1 Kön 2,5). So zeigen Zorn und Fluch vor allem die machtpolitische Schwäche Davids. Der Erzähler fügt diesem Fluch einen Kommentar an, in dem er die Ermordung Abners durch Joab und seinen in V. 27 nicht erwähnten Bruder Abischai zum zweiten Mal als Folge der Blutrache erklärt. Er verknüpft die Fluchszene literarisch mit der Kampfschilderung in 2 Sam 2,17–23 und der Szene von der Ermordung Abners in V. 27. Sein Kommentar wird hier aber kaum dazu eingesetzt, um den zwielichtigen Joab zu entlasten. Er gehört eher zu einer Erzählweise, auch die negativ handelnden Figuren mit zumindest nachvollziehbaren 36

37 38

In medizinischer Hinsicht gibt es „fluor genitalis“ (krankafter Genitalausfluss) in Folge von Harnröhrenentzündung auch bei Männern. Sie kann durch verschiedene Erreger, z.B. durch Gonorrhoe (Tripper), verursacht werden. Zu den Abweichungen zwischen masoretischem und griechischem Text vgl. Hugo, Der Mord an Abner und Amasa, 24–52. Vgl. Layton, A Chain Gang, 81–86, sowie mit weiteren Beispielen Dietrich, 1 Sam 27-2 Samuel 8, 406f.

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Motiven auszustatten. Im Disput mit David jedenfalls hatte Joab den Friedensabsichten Abners Betrug unterstellt (V. 25) und selbst keine Blutrache-Verpflichtungen genannt. Und ob die Tötung Asaels im Krieg, die Abner nach der biblischen Darstellung zweimal um des Friedens willen und aus Rücksicht auf Joab verhindern wollte, bevor er seinen Verfolger tötete, eine Blutracheverpflichtung Joabs einfordert, ist im Horizont alttestamentlichen Blutrechts eher unwahrscheinlich. Ein Blutrache-Motiv, das in V. 27 erwähnt wird, lässt David nicht gelten, weder in seiner Verfluchung, noch seinem Klagelied auf Abner, noch in seiner Rede vor seinen Soldaten (V. 28–29) oder an seinem Lebensende (1 Kön 2,5). Vor welchem Auditorium David seinen Fluch ausbringt und ob und wie er ihn rituell inszeniert, wird nicht erwähnt. Aus dem folgenden Auftrag in V. 31 kann aber geschlossen werden, dass Joab und „alles Volk“ zugegen waren, also für eine größtmögliche Öffentlichkeit gesorgt war. Eine „zwingende Geste“, die zu einer zwingenden Schwächung des Gegners führen müsste, ist mit diesem folgenlos bleibenden Fluch ganz offenbar nicht verbunden oder sie läuft ins Leere. Anders steht es mit dem von David angeordneten und angeführten Staatsbegräbnis für Abner, das als eine für David sehr erfolgreiche Inszenierung erzählt wird. Und überraschenderweise wird auch Abners Mörder Joab zur vollen Teilnahme an diesem Begräbnis aufgeboten. Die Totenklage und das Begräbnis Abners 31 Und David sprach zu Joab und zu allem Volk (hebr. ʻam), das bei ihm war: „Zerreißt eure Kleider, gürtet die Trauergewänder um und stimmt die Totenklage an (hebr. safad) vor Abner!“ Und der König David ging hinter der Bahre. 32 Und sie begruben Abner in Hebron, Und der König erhob seine Stimme und weinte am Grab Abners; und das ganze Volk weinte. 33 Und der König beklagte (hebr. kun) Abner und sagte: „Musste Abner sterben, wie ein Tor stirbt? 34 Deine Hände waren nicht gefesselt, und an deine Füße wurden keine Ketten angelegt. Wie man durch Söhne der Bosheit fällt, so bist du gefallen.“ Und das ganze Volk weinte noch mehr um ihn. 35 Und alles Volk kam, als es noch Tag war, um David Speise zu reichen, David aber schwor: „Gott tue mir an, was immer er will, wenn ich vor Sonnenuntergang Brot oder anderes anrühre!“ 36 Und das ganze Volk nahm es wahr, und es war gut in seinen Augen; Alles, was der König tat, in den Augen des ganzen Volkes war es gut. 37 Und das ganze Volk und ganz Israel erkannte an jenem Tag, dass die Ermordung Abners, des Sohns des Ner, nicht vom König ausgegangen war. (2 Sam 3,31–37)

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Dass David von Joab verlangt, am öffentlichen Trauer-Ritual teilzunehmen, kann in den Augen gegenwärtiger Betrachter und Betrachterinnen nur als Farce wahrgenommen werden. Der Mörder „beweint“ den Tod seines Opfers. Wenn wir diese erzwungene Beteiligung Joabs als Teil der politischen Kommunikation dieser Trauerfeier verstehen, legen sich andere Gründe nahe: Womöglich möchte David öffentlich demonstrieren, dass Joab weiterhin oder wieder neu in die bestehende Ordnung von Davids Königsherrschaft eingebunden wird. Joab soll sehen, wie der König erfolgreich versucht, die politischen Auswirkungen seiner Mordtat einzudämmen, um das geschlossene Friedensabkommen zu sichern. Und auch Joab soll gezwungen werden, dem Toten die Ehrengabe eines würdigen Begräbnisses und der entsprechenden Klagerituale zu erweisen. Womöglich möchte David auch nur öffentlich demonstrieren, dass er Herr des Verfahrens bleibt. Darüber hinaus hat die literarische Inszenierung dieses Trauerrituals verschiedene Ziele. Zum einen soll bekräftigt werden, dass David und sein Königtum unschuldig sind an Abners Tod (V. 28), obwohl Joab ein wichtiger Repräsentant von Davids königlicher Macht ist. Gegenüber der Machtbasis des Hauses Sauls, welches Abner repräsentierte, und deren erneute Feindschaft man nun gewärtigen muss, soll öffentlich demonstriert werden, dass David an dem Friedensbündnis mit Abner festhalten will. Zum anderen geht es auch um die Kommunikation innerhalb des Königtums Davids und um den Führungsanspruch eines Königs vor allem Volk, der seine „Herrschaft“ in einer so wichtigen Angelegenheit wie den Friedensverhandlungen offenbar nicht im Griff hat. 39 Das königliche Weinen wird am Grab laut und überträgt sich unmittelbar auf die Anwesenden, die gleichfalls anfangen zu weinen. Es überzeugt also spontan, indem es ähnliche Reaktionen bei den Teilnehmenden freisetzt und einfordert. Dieses Trauerritual ist das umfangreichste, das in der Bibel geschildert wird. Es wird aber nicht als etabliertes Ritual geschildert, dessen Elemente sich gewissermaßen von selbst verstehen, sondern als Zeremonie, die der König anordnet, organisiert und selbst anführt. Dabei werden Anleihen rituell etablierten Formen der Totenklage aufgenommen, aber für die literarische Inszenierung der Trauer spezifisch genutzt. Das Zerreißen der Kleider und das Anlegen eines minderwertigen Sacktuchs zeigen den kollektiven Statusverlust der Trauernden. Anstelle von speziell engagierten Klagefrauen sollen alle (auch Joab!) laute Klagen vor dem toten Abner anstimmen. Das Beweinen (hebr. bakāh) wird lexika39

Dabei ist das feierliche Begräbnis Abners in Hebron, in Feindesland, in politischer Hinsicht durchaus ein Problem. Es hätte nahe gelegen, den Leichnam in ehrenvollem Geleit nach Mahanajim zurück zu führen, so dass Abner im Erbbegräbnis seiner Familie zur letzten Ruhe gelangt. Dabei hätten auch die diplomatischen Verwicklungen mit dem „Haus Sauls“ geklärt werden können. Weil dies nicht geschieht, reagieren Sauls Sohn Ischboschet und „ganz Israel“ mit großem Schrecken und großer Mutlosigkeit auf die Nachricht vom Tod Abners (2 Sam 4,1) und es kommt zur Ermordung Ischboschets durch zwei militärische Anführer des Hauses Sauls, die sich damit David andienen wollen.

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lisch von der Totenklage vor Abner (hebr. safad) unterschieden, ebenso von der Totenklage des Königs (hebr. kûn), die auch ein Leichenlied enthält. Beim Begräbnis führt David den Trauerzug an und während des Begräbnisses fängt David laut an zu weinen und alles Volk stimmte ein. Hier ist das königliche Weinen keine Spontanreaktion, sondern ein rituell choreographiertes Zeichen, das den König als Ersten der Trauernden in Szene setzt: Die Trauerriten gehen vom König aus und werden vom König angeführt. Seine performance geht auf das Volk über, wird von ihm mitvollzogen. Das Weinen des Königs ist Teil einer sich sozial mitteilenden Kommunikation. Sie schafft Zugehörigkeit und Verbundenheit. Wer genau mit „alles Volk“ gemeint ist, kann nicht geklärt werden. Es ist an Davids Hofstaat und die Einwohnerschaft von Hebron sowie an sein Kriegsvolk („Knechte Davids“) zu denken. Selbst das Fasten „bis zum Abend“, das vermutlich ritueller Teil der Totenklage im alten Israel ist und von David bei der Totenklage um Saul und Jonatan auch selbstverständlich geübt wird, wird hier erst als Folge eines Eides erwähnt, den der König leistet, nachdem er die angebotene Speise ablehnt. Von einem Fasten der übrigen Teilnehmer ist nicht die Rede. So dient auch Davids mit einem Eid bekräftigtes Fasten der öffentlichen Demonstration der Ernsthaftigkeit seiner Trauer. Das Leichenlied am Grab, das David selbst vorträgt, hat nur ein einziges Thema, den unehrenhaften Tod Abners: Abner blieb die Ehre eines ruhmreichen Todes auf dem Schlachtfeld verwehrt. Die Klage Davids zielt nicht auf die vielleicht vertane Chance zum Frieden, sie würdigt auch nicht die Fähigkeiten des großen militärischen Gegners, der zum Friedensstifter wurde (Memorialklage), sie beklagt auch nicht den Verlust, den Abners Tod reißt (Verlustklage), oder die politisch unsicheren Folgeaussichten. Es ist allein der heimtückische Tod durch Frevlerhand, den David lautstark beklagt: „Abner ist der unbezwungene Held, der nur durch Hinterlist gefällt werden konnte.“ 40 Allerdings wird auch hier der Täter Joab nicht namentlich erwähnt, der – wie wir sahen – selbst an der Beweinung Abners teilnimmt. Joab wird nur allgemein mit allerdings sehr deutlichen Worten als Frevler gekennzeichnet. Wir halten fest: Davids Klagelied versucht die Tötung des ehemaligen Feindes nicht als politisch motivierten Akt des amtierenden Generals, sondern als heimtückische Freveltat eines Einzelnen darzustellen, was der literarischen Darstellung der Geschehnisse nur zum Teil entspricht, denn Joab ist Davids Heerführer. David vermeidet hier aber alle politischen Implikationen. Gleichwohl ist der unehrenhafte Tod eines Helden alle Klagen wert, denn die so inszenierte öffentliche Trauer gilt wie überall in der antiken Welt als „Ehrengabe für den Toten.“ Das Staatsbegräbnis für Abner sucht die Schande auszugleichen, die sein heimtückischer Tod mit sich gebracht hat. Interessanter und oft gewürdigt sind die geschilderten Reaktionen der Beteiligten. Der Erzähler betont wiederholt, dass „alles, was der König tat“, bei allen Beteiligten vorbehaltlose Anerkennung findet (V. 36). So etabliert er 40

Stoebe, Samuel, 142.

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bereits in der Handlungsschilderung die Rezeption, die er sich auch bei seinen literarischen Adressaten wünscht. Das ganze Volk als Teilnehmer, als Augenund Ohrenzeuge dieses Begräbnisses, bestätigt die Lauterkeit von Davids Umgang mit dem Tod Abners. Durch seine literarische Technik, die gewünschte Rezeption gleich mitzuerzählen, versucht der Erzähler auch das von ihm anvisierte Auditorium für seine Sichtweise und Darstellung einzunehmen. So war dieses Ehrenbegräbnis für den Erzfeind gewiss keine Kleinigkeit für die Judäer von Hebron. Denn mit Abner wird derjenige in Hebron ehrenvoll bestattet, der während langer Jahre der Kriegsgegner par excellence war. Und um ganz sicher zu gehen, fügt der Erzähler noch folgenden Kommentar an, mit dem er anzeigt, worum es ihm eigentlich ging, nämlich um den Nachweis der Unschuld Davids am Tod Abners: 37 Und das ganze Volk und ganz Israel erkannte an jenem Tag, dass die Ermordung Abners, des Sohns des Ner, nicht vom König ausgegangen war.

Zweifellos setzt sich der Erzähler in dieser Episode mit dem Vorwurf auseinander, dass David für den Tod Abners selbst verantwortlich war. Der Vorwurf, dass „das Blut des Hauses Sauls“ an Davids Händen klebt, wird auch in anderen Texten erhoben (2 Sam 16,8; 21,5–6). Schließlich wird David das Königtum Sauls übernehmen, das Abner ihm durch den Friedensvertrag angeboten hatte. Mit seiner Darstellung, in der Joabs Tat als Racheakt eines Einzelnen erscheint, der dem Ergebnis der Friedensverhandlungen nicht traut, setzt sich der Erzähler apologetisch auch mit diesem Vorwurf auseinander, lässt aber die Augen- und Ohrenzeugen der Veranstaltung das von ihm gewünschte Urteil selbst sprechen. Damit gestaltet er eine prototypische Szene, die auf ein Publikum einwirken will. Interessant ist, dass in V. 37 nicht nur das in Hebron anwesende judäische Volk, sondern mit „ganz Israel“ auch die Nordstämme Israels als Zeuge für die Unschuld Davids aufgerufen wird. Denn „ganz Israel“ bezeichnete bisher nicht Juda oder das Volk von Hebron, sondern diejenigen Gruppen, die bisher die Machtbasis des Hauses Sauls darstellen und in Hebron gar nicht anwesend sein können. Der Erzähler richtet sich hier offenbar an judäische wie auch an nordisraelitische Adressaten, die er vom Friedenswillen Abners wie von der Unschuld Davids gleichermaßen überzeugen möchte. 41 Die Begräbnisszene dient nicht nur dem ehrenvollen Andenken Abners, sondern auch der Etablierung und Konsolidierung der königlichen Macht Davids, die durch Joabs Meuchelmord auf das Äußerste herausgefordert wurde. Durch diese aufwändige Demonstration seiner Unschuld gelingt es David, weiterhin seine politischen Friedensabsichten unter Beweis zu stellen, den Mörder Joab in 41

Manche Gelehrte sehen wegen der Erwähnung „Israels“ in V. 37 die redaktionelle Ergänzung eines gesamtisraelitisch denkenden Kommentators, zumal in 2 Sam 4,1 „ganz Israel“ mit Erschrecken und Verzagtheit auf die Nachricht vom Tod Abners reagiert, das apologetische Programm von Abners Begräbnis demnach (noch) nicht kennt.

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das Begräbnis einzubinden, nach innen seinen Herrschaftsanspruch gegenüber dem Volk von Hebron trotz seines Friedens mit dem Feind neu zu etablieren sowie nach außen gegenüber dem Königtum Sauls an den Ergebnissen des Friedensvertrages festzuhalten. Wie fragil diese Herrschaft war, und durch den Friedensvertrag wurde, kann man beispielhaft an Joabs Tat sehen. Indem David „alles Volk“ an der Inszenierung der Beweinung Abners beteiligt, konsolidiert er seine Königsherrschaft. Im Erzähltext wird dies subtil auch dadurch geleistet, dass nach Davids Unschuldsbekenntnis zu Beginn „Mein Königtum ist für immer unschuldig am Blut Abners!“ (V. 28), nur an zentralen Punkten der Darstellung vom „König“ und nicht von David die Rede ist. Mit dem König wird zugleich dessen Herrschaft aufgerufen: Der „König“ folgt der Totenbahre (V. 31), er weint laut (V. 32). Alles, was „der König“ tat, war gut in den Augen aller (V. 36). Und alle erkennen an jenem Tag die Unschuld „des Königs“ (V. 37). Diese mehrfache Betonung der Unschuld Davids und die für moderne Betrachter übertriebene Emotionalisierung haben in der Bibelwissenschaft häufig Zweifel an der Aufrichtigkeit von Davids Trauer geweckt. Das Begräbnis sei eine Show-Veranstaltung, die nur vertuschen wolle, dass (der historische) David der eigentliche Drahtzieher der Ermordung Abners war. 42 Da es mir in diesem Aufsatz um die literarischen Inszenierungen des königlichen Weinens und nicht um Mutmaßungen über den historischen David geht, erinnere ich an die eingangs getroffene Feststellung, dass in vormodernen Texte der rituell inszenierte Emotionenausdruck so lange als adäquat zu gelten hat, so lange der Text selbst dies nicht in Frage stellt. Aber genau dies tut dieser Text nicht. Davids Beweinung Abners wird als adäquat, überzeugend und im Sinne der literarischen Idee als erfolgreich dargestellt, ganz unabhängig davon, ob sie modernen Betrachter und Betrachterinnen übertrieben, propagandistisch oder fadenscheinig erscheint. 43 Diese Darstellung königlicher Trauer könnte am ehesten im Sinne von Gert Althoff als „zwingende Geste“ im politischen Raum verstanden werden, bei der die Anwesenden durch die konkrete Art der Inszenierung zu einer bestimmten Reaktion gedrängt werden, die bei der Organisation der Veranstaltung bereits mit eingeplant wird. Das königliche Weinen ist hier kaum spontan. Der König weint im Rahmen einer rituellen Inszenierung an Abners Grab und besingt den ehemaligen Feind. Er wird jedoch explizit als Urheber und Anführer dieses Rituals vorgestellt und die angestrebten Reaktionen bleiben nicht aus: alles Volk weint auch und erkennt an jenem Tag die Unschuld des Königs am Tod Abners. Mit dieser Inszenierung hat David nicht nur sich selbst als königlichen Friedens42

43

Vgl. McKenzie, König David, 138–144: „Die Leidenschaft, mit der Davids Unschuld […] beteuert wird, weckt beim Historiker den Verdacht der Komplizenschaft“ (142). So schon Vanderkam, Davidic Complicity, 521–539 und weitere Beispiele bei Dietrich, 1 Sam 27 – 2 Sam 8, 413–414. Es gibt in der Bibel auch Beispiele für vorgespielte Emotionen. Vgl. etwa die falschen Tränen von Simsons Frau Delila (Ri 14,16.17) oder das vorgetäuschte Weinen des königlichen Usurpators Ismael ben Netanja in Jer 41,6.

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stifter neu konstituiert, sondern auch den Friedensvertrag mit Abner und dem Haus Sauls gerettet und seine Königsmacht (und politische Klugheit) unter Beweis gestellt. Aber dazu müsste die Szene jetzt enden. Davids Bekenntnis machtpolitischer Schwäche (V. 38–39) Stattdessen wird eine letzte Rede Davids angefügt, die das Vorhergehende in interessanter Weise konterkariert. Denn David bekennt seine Schwäche und Ohnmacht, der mörderischen Macht Joabs und seines Bruders irgendetwas entgegen zu setzen. Es ist eine Art melancholische Intervention des amtierenden Königs zu einem Zeitpunkt, als die politische Krise bewältigt scheint. Die Öffentlichkeit der Begräbnisfeier ist mittlerweile verlassen. Der König spricht nicht mehr zum Volk, er resümiert jetzt das Geschehen im Kreis seiner „Diener“. Vom erzählerischen Kontext sind damit Davids Soldaten gemeint, jenes Heer, das unter Joabs Führung den Krieg geführt (2 Sam 2,12.15.30) und während der Friedensverhandlungen auf Beutezügen unterwegs war (2 Sam 3,22). Das gibt dem Ganzen eine besondere Note politischer Kommunikation. 38 Und der König sagte zu seinen Dienern: „Wisst ihr nicht, dass am heutigen Tag ein Anführer, ein Großer in Israel gefallen ist? 39 Und heute bin ich schwach, obwohl ich zum König gesalbt bin, und diese Männer, die Söhne der Zeruja, sind härter als ich. Der Herr vergelte dem, der Böses tut, nach seiner Bosheit!“ (2 Sam 3,38–39)

Auch in diesem Kreis erweist David seinem alten Feind Abner als großem Heerführer alle Ehre. Wir erinnern uns: Abner war es, der die Initiative zum Ende des Bruderkrieges und zur Übergabe des Königtums des Hauses Sauls an David ergriffen hatte, dies mit den Ältesten Benjamins und der nordisraelitischen Stämme ausgehandelt hatte, bevor er die Unterwerfung des Hauses Sauls König David in Hebron auf dem Silbertablett präsentierte (2 Sam 3,12–19). Man müsste an einen großen politischen Verrat Abners gegenüber dem Haus Sauls denken, wenn der Erzähler nicht betonen würde, dass dieser Friedensschluss gut in den Augen all derer war, die bisher das Haus Sauls unterstützt hatten. Durch diesen Friedensschluss ist die Königsherrschaft des Saulsohns Isch-Boschet faktisch beendet, denn dieser ist nun völlig isoliert. David hat also in politischer Hinsicht allen Grund, den Tod Abners zu betrauern und die Größe Abners zu würdigen. Wenn er ihn einen „Großen in Israel“ nennt, was er in seinem Leichenlied nicht tat, dann will er seine Soldaten, die sieben Jahre gegen Abner und „ganz Israel“ gekämpft hatten, aber während des Friedensschlusses mit Abner nicht in Hebron anwesend waren, für diesen Friedensschluss und für die Angemessenheit des Ehrenbegräbnisses gewinnen. Aber das Eingeständnis seiner machtpolitischen Schwäche als König und gegenüber dem anerkannten General und Heerführer dieser Soldaten überrascht hier, weil auch im antiken Israel wie im Alten Orient insgesamt galt, dass

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die machtpolitische Stärke eines Königs der Garant für eine stabile Königsherrschaft ist. Kein König könnte und dürfte eingestehen, dass er sich gegenüber seinen Militärs nicht durchsetzen kann, ohne das Vertrauen in die Handlungsmacht des Königs tiefgreifend zu untergraben. David gesteht hier nicht nur ein, dass er der „Härte“ der Zerujasöhne nichts entgegensetzen kann, sondern er beschreibt sich selbst als hebr. rak, was mit „schwach, dünn, kraftlos, weich, kindlich zart usw.“ übersetzt werden kann. 44 Und er stellt diese kraftlose Schwäche ausdrücklich in Kontrast zu seiner Rolle und Funktion als König: „Obwohl ich zum König gesalbt bin […]“ (vgl. 2 Sam 2,7). David zeigt, dass er den Anforderungen männlich-königlicher Handlungsmacht nicht genügt. Der abschätzig gemeinte Ausdruck „Söhne der Zeruja“ ruft in Erinnerung, dass drei der Helden Davids aus der gleichen Familie stammen, von denen Joab während Davids Königtums in Hebron als Heerführer eingesetzt wird (2 Sam 2,13.18). Der leichtfüßige Asahel wird von Abner im Kampf getötet (2 Sam 2,19–24) und Joabs Bruder Abischai wird als besonders harter und tötungsbereiter Mann geschildert (1 Sam 26,6–9; 2 Sam 16,9–10). In der Davidüberlieferung wird die Rede von den „Söhnen der Zeruja“ in machtpolitischen Konfliktsituationen als literarisches Stilmittel eingesetzt, das hier erstmals erwähnt wird, um später weiter dramatisch gesteigert zu werden: „Der Konflikt entzündet sich stets an der Frage, wie mit den Gegnern Davids umgegangen werden soll. Während die Söhne der Zeruja ein hartes Vorgehen vorschlagen und manchmal auch durchführen, lässt David Gnade walten oder beteuert seine Unschuld am Tod des Gegners.“ 45 Joab und die Zeruja-Söhne verkörpern in unterschiedlichen Szenen gewissermaßen die harte Seite der Staatsräson, während David oft politisch sanftere oder behutsamere Wege geht. 46 Sie sind Kontrastfiguren für die Art und Weise, wie David sein Königtum ausübt. David gesteht hier mit sehr deutlichen Worten im Kreis seiner Krieger seine macht44

45 46

Zu den Nuancen von hebr. rak und dem Verb rakak vgl. Kellermann, Art. rākak, 519–521. Nach dem Kriegsgesetz des Deuteronomiums soll, wer mit einem solchen mutlosen Herzen in die Schlacht zieht, besser wieder nach Hause geschickt werden, um die Kampfkraft des Heeres nicht zu gefährden (Dtn 20,8). Jugendliche Weichheit wird in 2 Chr 13,7 als Grund dafür genannt, dass sich Salomos Sohn Rehabeam nicht gegen die harten Krieger Jerobeams behaupten konnte, weshalb Salomos Königtum zerbrach. Bietenhard, Des Königs General, 124; zu den Zerujasöhnen vgl. ferner McKenzie, Sons of Zeruiah, 293–313. Schon beim „Husarenstreich“ in Sauls Wagenburg (1 Sam 26,8) will Abischai den schlafenden Saul töten, was David verhindert; als der Benjaminit Schimi David als Blutmensch verflucht wiederholt sich die gleiche Szene: Abischai will Schimi töten, was David verhindert (2 Sam 16). In unserer Erzählung tötet Joab Abner, weil er ihn für einen Verräter hält; angesichts der Verbannung des Brudermörders Abschalom ergreift Joab (mit brachialen Methoden) die Initiative, den geflohenen Königssohn nach Jerusalem zurück zu bringen (2 Sam 14); als Abschalom gegen den Vater putscht, ist es Joab, der sich über den königlichen Willen, das Leben Abschaloms zu schonen, hinwegsetzt und den hilflosen Abschalom tötet und dem darüber tief trauernden König androht, ihm noch heute die Heeresmacht zu entziehen (2 Sam 18–19). Nach seiner Entmachtung als Heerführer tötet er den Rivalen Amasa, um dieses Amt zurück zu gewinnen und beim Kampf um die Thronfolge unterstützt Joab die Partei Adonjas.

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politische Schwäche, ja seine Unterlegenheit angesichts der Härte der Zerujasöhne ein. Die selten verwendete Verbwurzel hebr. rak ist uns in 2 Kön 22,19 schon einmal begegnet. Dort wird König Joschija für sein „weiches Herz“ gelobt, womit seine Demütigung und Buße vor der Gottheit gemeint ist. In diesem Zusammenhang steht dies einem König auch gut zu Gesicht, kaum aber im Umgang mit seinem General und vor seinen Soldaten. 47 Der recht allgemeine Hinweis auf die göttliche Vergeltung, die dem Bösen droht, klingt so, als wolle der König die Bestrafung Joabs Gott anheimstellen, aber nicht selbst ausführen. So verstärkt diese Aussage nur Davids Eingeständnis seiner politischen Ohnmacht. Wir erinnern uns, dass schon der Fluch Davids in seinen Verwünschungen die Person Joabs ausgenommen hatte, ebenso sein Klagelied auf Abner. Und auch hier verschwindet Joabs Ermordung Abners hinter einer religiösen Plattitüde. Man kann aber hier wiedererkennen, dass David die Ermordung Abners nicht mit einer eventuell berechtigten Blutrache in Verbindung bringt, anders als der Erzähler. Erst am Ende seines Lebens wird David seinen Sohn Salomo mit der Tötung Joabs beauftragen, zu der er sich (aus welchen Gründen auch immer) in seiner aktiven Zeit als König nicht in der Lage sah: „Und du selbst (sc. Salomo) weißt ja, was Joab, der Sohn der Zeruja, mir angetan hat, was er den beiden Heerführern Israels, Abner, dem Sohn des Ner, und Amasa, dem Sohn des Jeter, angetan hat: Er hat sie umgebracht. Und so hat er den Frieden belastet mit dem Blut, das im Krieg vergossen wurde […].“ (1 Kön 2,5)

Diese Einschätzung, dass die Tötung Abners, nicht die Revanche einer Blutschuld war, sondern den ausgehandelten Frieden zu stören versuchte, stimmt ziemlich genau mit dem Bild überein, dass der Erzähler von 2 Sam 3 entwirft. Eine etwas andere Nuance bekommt Abners Mord in der Sicht Salomos, wenn dieser die Tötung Joabs dann tatsächlich befiehlt: „Stoss ihn nieder und begrabe ihn. Und so nimmst du das unschuldige Blut, das Joab vergossen hat, von mir und vom Haus meines Vaters. Der Herr aber wird sein Blut über sein Haupt bringen, denn er hat zwei Männer niedergestoßen, die gerechter und besser waren als er, er hat sie mit dem Schwert umgebracht, mein Vater David aber wusste nichts davon […] Und ihr Blut wird über das Haupt Joabs kommen und über das Haupt seiner Nachkommen, und dort wird es für alle Zeiten sein.“ (1 Kön 2,31–33)

47

Auld, Samuel, 384, denkt sogar an einen literarischen Zusammenhang mit 2 Kön 22, (s. o.), weil auch hier der König weint, seine Kleider zerreißt und ein weiches Herz attestiert bekommt, und verweist auf Sach 9,9, wonach der künftige Heilskönig „demütig und gerecht“ sein soll. Aber in beiden Referenztexten ist der geführte Diskurs doch ein ganz anderer als der machtpolitische in 2 Sam 3.

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Nach dieser Deutung lasten die nicht geahndeten Morde Joabs als Blutschuld nicht nur auf Joab und seinem Haus, sondern unmittelbar auch auf David und seinem Haus, in dessen Diensten Joab stand. 48 Davids Eingeständnis seiner Ohnmacht, Joab zur Rechenschaft zu ziehen, gehört zu einer Reihe von Texten, in denen David bedrohlichen Situationen ausgesetzt wird und in denen seine politische Schwäche als König deutlich wird. Als von Saul Verfolgter wird er vielfach in bedrohlichen Situationen gezeigt, als König nimmt er nicht nur Abners Tod vergeltungslos hin, sondern auch, dass sein ältester Sohn Amnon seine Halbschwester vergewaltigt und von seinem Bruder Abschalom dafür umgebracht wird. David lässt Abschalom gewähren, bis dieser gegen den Vater putscht und ihn aus dem Jerusalemer Königtum jagt. Seine Flucht aus Jerusalem wird mit einem Anflug von Melancholie, wenn nicht Depression, fatalistisch hingenommen (2 Sam 15,20.25–26), ebenso seine Verfluchung durch den Benjaminiten Schimi (2 Sam 16,5–14). 49 Diese Ambivalenz und gelegentlich machtpolitische Schwäche kennzeichnet das biblische Bild Davids. Aber selten wird sie so deutlich eingestanden wie nach Abners Tod (V. 39). Was sagt dieses Eingeständnis königlicher Schwäche vor seinem Kriegsvolk über die Krisenbewältigung und die durch das Staatsbegräbnis für Abner notwendige Neukonstitution der königlichen Herrschaft Davids? Sein Zorn und seine Verfluchung Joabs bleiben folgenlos. Durch das Staatsbegräbnis demonstriert David in gelingender Weise seine Unschuld am Tod Abners, was allgemein und sogar bis zu den das „Haus Sauls“ unterstützenden Stämmen anerkannt wird. Die politische Kommunikation durch diese Inszenierung als „zwingende Geste“ ist auf unterschiedlichen Ebenen gelungen, bleibt aber auf der Vergeltungsebene stecken. David zwingt den Mörder zwar, am Begräbnis teilzunehmen, zieht ihn aber nicht zur Rechenschaft und gesteht überdies die Unterlegenheit seiner königliche Handlungsmacht gegenüber seinem General so deutlich ein, dass er das gerade erworbene Vertrauen in seine Königsherrschaft gleich wieder in Frage stellt. So erscheint auch sein Gottesbekenntnis kaum als Akt der Demut, 50 sondern zeigt eher seine Unfähigkeit, den Mörder zur Rechenschaft zu ziehen. Wir fassen zusammen: Davids lautes Weinen im Rahmen der von ihm selbst inszenierten Totenklage für Abner kann im Sinne Althoffs als „zwingende Geste“ verstanden werden, das auf unterschiedlichen Ebenen Teil der hier angestrebten und erfolgreichen politischen Kommunikation wird. Dieses Begräbnis wird durch David arrangiert und angeführt, wobei sogar der Mörder Abners in das Ritual einbezogen wird. Die erfolgreiche politische Kommunikation, Davids 48 49 50

Der Tod Abners und seine Folgen haben in der Überlieferung zu unterschiedlichen Einschätzungen geführt. Diesen und anderen Szenen hat Kipfer, Der bedrohte David, jüngst eine umfangreiche Monographie gewidmet. Solche Demut zeigt David als König sonst nur gegenüber Gott (2 Sam 7,18–19; 15,25–26; 16,11).

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Unschuld und königliche Handlungsmacht zu erweisen, wird aber sowohl durch Davids folgenlosen Fluch am Anfang wie durch sein Schwächebekenntnis im Kreis seiner Krieger am Ende der Schilderung zugleich wieder in Frage gestellt. Damit werden die ambivalenten Züge der literarischen Darstellung König Davids verstärkt.

3.6

König David weint und demütigt sich vor Gott, um sein krankes Kind zu retten

Wir hatten schon bei Assurbanipal, Joschija und Hiskija gesehen, dass königliches Weinen zu einer ritualisierten Demutsgeste vor der Gottheit gehört, mit der die Könige ihren Bittgebeten Nachdruck verleihen wollen. Diese Kommunikation mit der Gottheit kann aber auch misslingen, wie wir schon bei Joschija (siehe Kapitel 3.2) gesehen haben. Sie misslingt auch bei David: Nach der Gerichtsrede des Propheten Natan wegen Davids Ehebruch mit Batscheba und dem Mord an ihrem Mann Urija gesteht David seine Schuld ein. Als Mörder Urijas muss er nicht sterben, aber die Unheilswirkungen seiner Tat werden sich auch im Nahbereich seiner Familie auswirken. Gott bestimmt daher, dass das Kind des Ehebruchs wegen Davids großer Schuld sterben muss. Als das Kind schwer erkrankt, kämpft David um dessen Leben, indem er durch eine demonstrative rituelle Inszenierung der Selbstminderung und Demütigung eine Änderung des göttlichen Beschlusses erreichen will (2 Sam 12,15–23). So wird die erstaunliche Szene erzählt, dass David im Angesicht des göttlichen Todesurteils über sein Kind sieben Tage und Nächte hungrig und schmutzig auf dem Boden verbringt und Gott weinend anfleht, ein Urteil zu ändern, von dem er doch weiß, dass er es verdient hat und das doch unwiderruflich zu sein scheint. Wie wir es schon bei Hiskija (siehe Kapitel 3.2) gesehen haben, findet sich der König mit dem göttlichen Beschluss nicht ab, sondern bestürmt die Gottheit: „Vielleicht ist Gott mir gnädig und das Kind bleibt am Leben.“ (V. 22) Auch hier ist das Weinen Davids eingebunden in eine ganze Reihe von körperlichen Gesten, mit denen ein demütiger König seinen Gott mit seinen Fürbitten bestürmt. Die Notlage, die hier abgewendet werden soll, ist in erster Linie persönlicher und privater Natur. Man kann die Szene als rituelle Krankenfürbitte eines betroffenen Vaters lesen, der weiß, dass er die Krankheit seines Kindes selbst verschuldet hat. Ein politischer Horizont wird nicht explizit aufgeführt. Auch hier können die Gesten der Selbstminderung als „zwingende Gesten“ verstanden werden. Sie bleiben allerdings erfolglos. Das Kind stirbt. Daraufhin steht David auf, wäscht und salbt sich, wechselt die Kleider und begibt sich in den Tempel, um das göttliche Urteil anbetend zu akzeptieren. Die Episode bietet zudem einen Reflexion Davids über sein Weinen. David wollte, so sagt er in V. 23, mit seinem Fasten, Weinen und Beten einen leidenschaftlichen Appell an Gottes Barmherzigkeit richten und

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erreichen, dass sein krankes Kind nicht stirbt (V. 23). Nachdem es gestorben war, verweigerte sich David dann sogar der Totenklage für sein Kind, weil er nicht vermochte, sein Leben zu retten.

3.7

König David weint mit seinen Söhnen

In zwei weiteren Situationen ist König Davids öffentliches Weinen eine Spontanreaktion und Folge eines emotionalen Schocks. Davids ältester Sohn Amnon hatte seine Halbschwester Tamar vergewaltigt und sie anschließend auf die Straße werfen lassen (2 Sam 13,17). Wieder gerät David in Zorn, der folgenlos bleibt. David zieht den Täter nicht zur Rechenschaft. So nimmt Tamars Bruder Abschalom die Sache in die Hand und lässt Amnon bei einem Festgelage töten, woraufhin alle anderen Königssöhne fliehen: 30 Und sie waren noch auf dem Weg, da war die Nachricht schon zu David gedrungen, Abschalom habe alle Königssöhne erschlagen, und kein Einziger von ihnen sei übriggeblieben! 31 Und der König erhob sich, zerriss seine Kleider und legte sich auf die Erde; auch alle seine Diener, die bei ihm standen, zerrissen ihre Kleider. 32 Daraufhin sagte Jonadab, der Sohn von Schima, der der Bruder Davids war: „Mein Herr muss nicht glauben, dass man alle jungen Männer, die Söhne des Königs, getötet hat. Vielmehr ist nur Amnon tot, denn es war beschlossen auf Befehl Abschaloms seit dem Tag, an dem jener Tamar, seine Schwester, vergewaltigt hatte. 33 Und nun rede mein Herr, der König, sich doch nicht ein, dass alle Königssöhne tot seien, denn nur Amnon ist tot.[…]“ 36 Und als er ausgeredet hatte, sieh, da kamen die Söhne des Königs und begannen laut zu weinen, und auch der König und alle seine Diener weinten heftig.“ (2 Sam 13,30–36*)

Angesichts der Nachricht, dass Abschalom alle Königssöhne erschlagen habe, zeigt David eine körperliche Schockreaktion angesichts eines unfassbaren Verlustes, indem er seine Kleider zerreißt und sich auf die Erde (in den Staub) legt. 51 Wieder ist an etablierte Gesten der Selbstminderung zu denken, mit denen David anzeigt: Er ist als König, als Vater und als Person vernichtet. Aber es ist keine vorbereitete Inszenierung. Das Zerreißen des königlichen Kleides wie auch das sich auf die Erde werfen sind Spontangesten der Trauer, die etablierte Gesten zum emotionalen Ausdruck nutzen. Und seine Diener folgen dem König dabei und demonstrieren damit, dass der König angemessen reagiert. Man sollte 51

Davids Reaktion auf das Leid seiner Söhne steht im deutlichen Kontrast zu seinem Verhalten nach der Vergewaltigung seiner Tochter Tamar (2 Sam 13,21).

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meinen, als sich herausstellt, dass nur der Vergewaltiger Amnon getötet wurde, alle anderen Königssöhne aber noch am Leben und mit dem Schrecken davon gekommen sind, würde der König erleichtert aufatmen. Das ist aber nicht der Fall. Als die Königssöhne David erreichen, beginnen sie laut zu weinen (V. 36). In dieses Weinen mischen sich zweifellos der Schock über das Erlebte mit der Erleichterung, mit dem Leben davon gekommen zu sein. Das laute Weinen seiner Söhne steckt nun auch David an (der vermutlich nicht mehr in zerrissenen Kleidern auf dem Boden liegt) und auch der König beginnt heftig zu weinen und wieder folgt ihm sein Gefolge darin. In dieser Szene ist das Weinen nicht eingebunden in etablierte Gesten der Selbstminderung, sondern eher eine Körperreaktion der Empathie, der Anteilnahme und Erleichterung, die Söhne doch noch lebend wieder zu treffen. Zwar werden die Fragen der Königsherrschaft nicht direkt angesprochen, aber die Häufigkeit, mit der hier vom König und von den Königssöhnen die Rede ist, stellt das Prekäre dieser Situation für die Königsherrschaft Davids heraus. Auch wenn wir nicht erfahren, ob der Ratgeber Jonadab sich an diesen Gesten der Schockbearbeitung beteiligt, stehen hier Davids emotionale Reaktionen im Einklang mit seinen Getreuen und seinen Söhnen. Der flüchtende Brudermörder Abschalom wird nach Jahren von Joab wieder nach Jerusalem zurückgebracht, wo er einen groß angelegten Putsch gegen den Vater anzettelt, der David als König entmachtet und zur Flucht aus Jerusalem zwingt. Diese Flucht führt zum nächsten öffentlichen Weinen König Davids.

3.8

König David weint auf dem Ölberg bei seiner Flucht aus Jerusalem

Davids Flucht wird aber nicht Hals über Kopf, sondern als eine Art Prozession der Trauer und des Abschieds zwischen dem Kidrontal und der Kuppe des Ölbergs geschildert, bei welcher der König sich in einer Art Musterung der Treue seiner Unterstützer versichert und die Priester mit der Gotteslade und deren Söhne als Spione zurück nach Jerusalem schickt. Danach heißt es: Und David zog den Aufstieg zum Ölberg hinauf, weinend, mit verhülltem Kopf und barfuß. auch das ganze Kriegsvolk, das mit ihm war, sie hatten ein jeder sein Haupt verhüllt und waren fortwährend weinend hinaufgestiegen. (2 Sam 15,30).

So erreicht David den Gipfel und einen Ort, „auf dem man sich vor Gott niederzuwerfen pflegte“ (V. 32). Hier initiiert der König ein kollektives Weinen und führt es an. Welchem konkreten Ziel es dient, wird nicht gesagt. Angesichts der Flucht aus Jerusalem ist es eine gemeinschaftliche Praxis der Trauer, denn David hat sein Königtum verloren und flieht mit seinen Getreuen, um sein Leben zu retten. Es ist eine Verlustklage über seine königliche Herrschaft. Dieses Mal

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weint der König über sich selbst und er tut dies barfuß, was nicht zur Flucht eines Kriegers aus Jerusalem, sondern zu einem vor seinem Gott demütigen König passt. David hat das Königtum verloren und beklagt dies vor Gott (V. 19), allerdings nicht ohne Vorsorge für eine Wiedergewinnung seiner Königsherrschaft zu treffen. Vermutlich ist mit dieser Demütigungsgeste auch eine Bitte an die Gottheit verbunden, in dieser politischen Notlage beizustehen oder die verlorene Herrschaft wieder zu erlangen. 52 Aber das wird nicht ausdrücklich gesagt, und das Kultobjekt, das die Anwesenheit Gottes repräsentiert, soll in Jerusalem bleiben (V. 25). Das Weinen des Königs ist eingebunden in zwei weitere rituelle Körpergesten der Selbstminderung, dem barfuß Gehen und dem Verhüllen des Kopfes. 53 Wiewohl das Weinen laut geschieht, als lautes Schluchzen und Wehklagen, ist eine klagende Sprachhandlung damit nicht verbunden. Man könnte an Elemente eines etablierten Bußrituals denken, zumal es bis zu einem Kultort auf der Höhe des Ölberges führt. Aber an diesem Kultort geschieht weder Gebet noch Opfer, vielmehr trifft David einen weiteren Vertrauten, den er als Spion am Hof Abschaloms einzuschleusen gedenkt. 54 Dieser ausführliche Trauervorgang des Königs wirkt angesichts der überstürzten Flucht vor dem in Jerusalem einmarschierenden Abschalom etwas deplatziert. Aber der Erzähler legt mit seiner Darstellung der Flucht Davids auf diese Praktiken der Verlustklage besonderen Wert. Er tat dies schon einige Verse zuvor, als er den König beim Durchschreiten des Kidrontales zeigt, welches das Stadtgebiet Jerusalems vom Ölberg trennt: Und das ganze Land weinte mit lauter Stimme, und das ganze Volk zog vorüber, und der König zog durch den Bach Kidron; und das ganze Volk zog vorüber auf dem Wüstenweg. (2 Sam 15,23)

Falls das „ganze Land“ nicht als Phrase „alle Welt“ zu verstehen ist, wird das ganze Land als Subjekt des Weinens mit lauter Stimme aufgeboten. In der hebräischen Bibel kommt ein nichtmenschliches Subjekt des Weinens (hebr. bakāh) nur hier vor, während in prophetischen Klagetexten vom „Land“ zumindest gesagt werden kann, dass es trauert (hebr. ʼābal). 55 Auch Jerusalem als Stadt (im Bild einer Frau) kann als Subjekt des Trauerns (hebr. ʼābal) begegnen (Jes 3,26). 52

53

54

55

Kurz zuvor hatte David gegenüber den Priestern der Gotteslade bekannt, sein Schicksal ganz der Gnade Gottes anheimzustellen (V. 25–26), aber die in V. 30.32 geschilderten rituellen Praktiken haben dazu keinen unmittelbaren Bezug. Beide Gesten sind uns bisher beim königlichen Weinen nicht begegnet, gehören aber auch sonst zu den Körpergesten der Selbstminderung und Trauer. Zum Ablegen der Schuhe vgl. Ez 24,17.23; zum Verhüllen des Gesichts oder des Kopfes 2 Sam 19,5 (vom König s.u.); Ez 24,17.22. Offenbar war die dem Zionsberg gegenüberliegende Anhöhe des Ölbergs schon seit alters her ein bevorzugter Kultort. Von Salomo wird erzählt, dass er hier Tempel für seine ausländischen Frauen errichten ließ (1 Kön 17,7f.). Auch später bekommt die Kuppe des Ölberges, die geografisch eine Wasserscheide und den Übergang zur judäischen Wüste markiert, einen besonderen Platz in der theologischen Topographie der Bibel. Vgl. Küchler, Jerusalem, 792ff. Vgl. Jes 24,4.7; 33,9; Jer 4,28; 12,4; 14,2; 23,10; Am 1,2; Joel 1,10.

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Und immerhin ist auch hier der Fall, dass David Jerusalem aufgeben muss und vom weinenden Land gerade dann die Rede ist, als David das Stadtgebiet Jerusalems verlässt. 56 Auch das „Weinen des Landes“ nimmt an der politischen Kommunikation der Szene teil. Nicht nur „alles Volk“, das David begleitet und seine Krieger, aber auch die flüchtenden Familien mit einschließt, sondern das ganze Land beweint die Flucht Davids aus Jerusalem, anstatt den neuen König Abschalom, der zeitgleich Jerusalem erreicht, frohlockend zu empfangen – und erhofft, so möchte man fortfahren, die baldige Rückkehr des abgedankten Königs. Wieder werden für die literarische Inszenierung eines starken Verlustschmerzes Elemente ritueller Praktiken genutzt, aber doch in dieser bildstarken Szene zu einer einmaligen und nicht wiederholbaren Handlungsschilderung gefügt.

3.9

König David weint um seinen toten Sohn Abschalom

Die letzte hier zu besprechende Szene bietet ein interessantes Gegenstück zur Totenklage für Abner (siehe Kapitel 3.5). In Davids Kampf um die Wiedergewinnung seines Königtums kommt es zur entscheidenden Schlacht gegen die Truppen seines Sohnes Abschalom. Wieder führt General Joab Davids Heer. Joab ist es auch, der gegen den ausdrücklichen Befehl Davids, seinen Sohn Abschalom in der Schlacht unbedingt zu schonen, den wehrlos mit seinem Kopf im Geäst 57 hängenden Königssohn tötet. Ein Bote bringt dem am Stadttor von Mahanajim wartenden David die Nachricht vom Sieg in der Schlacht und vom Tod seines Sohnes, worauf der König emotional völlig zusammenbricht: 1 Da erbebte der König, und er stieg hinauf in das Obergemach im Stadttor und weinte. Und im Gehen sprach er dies: „Mein Sohn! Abschalom, mein Sohn! Mein Sohn Abschalom! Wäre doch ich an deiner Stelle tot! Abschalom, mein Sohn, mein Sohn!“ 2 Und es wurde (General) Joab berichtet: „Sieh, der König weint und trauert um Abschalom.“ 3 Und an jenem Tag wurde der Sieg zur Trauer für das ganze Volk, denn an jenem Tag hörte das Volk: „Der König grämt sich wegen seines Sohnes.“ 4 Und an jenem Tag stahl sich das Volk in die Stadt, wie sich das Volk davonstiehlt, wenn sie sich schämen, weil sie aus der Schlacht geflohen sind. 56

57

Sehr viel weitgehender werden in Gilgameschs Totenklage für Enkidu (Tf. 8) nichtmenschliche Akteure in das Beweinen einbezogen, nämlich fast alle, die Enkidus Weg gekreuzt haben: die Wege des Zedernwaldes, die hohen Gipfel der Berge, die Fluren, Buchsbaum, Zypresse und Zeder, die wilden Tiere der Steppe, der heilige Ulai-Strom und der Euphrat u. v. a. Sie alle bilden einen Chor der Weinenden. Vgl. Maul, Gilgamesch-Epos, z.St.; ferner Müller, Gilgameschs Trauergesang, 233–250; Naumann, Crying Heros, 4–6. Die in der europäischen Ikonographie bekannte Darstellung von dem mit seinen langen Haaren im Geäst hängenden Königssohn verdankt sich der altgriechischen Textfassung der Septuaginta.

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5 Der König aber hatte sein Angesicht verhüllt, und mit lauter Stimme schrie der König: „Mein Sohn Abschalom! Abschalom, mein Sohn, mein Sohn!“ (2 Sam 19,1–5)

Diese Szene ist eine der erschütterndsten der Bibel. David trauert um seinen toten Sohn, obwohl dieser ihm zum Feind wurde und den Vater vom Thron stürzte und unverhohlen nach dem Leben trachtete. In dieser Schilderung wird sogar ausgesprochen, wie das Weinen aus dem starken Erbeben des Körpers (hebr. ragaz) herausbricht. Es ist eine schockartige Reaktion auf einen befürchteten Verlust. Und sie wird begleitet von klagenden Sprachfetzen, die im Hebräischen mit ihren Assonanzen einen erschütternden Singsang der Klage ergeben. Davids Weinen wird begleitet von einem doppelten räumlichen Rückzug: David verlässt seine Position beim Empfang des Boten und steigt in das Obergemach des Stadttores und er verhüllt seinen Kopf, 58 um sich so von Außenkontakten abzuschotten, ohne in seinem Klagen nachzulassen. Vom Zerreißen der Kleider oder auf den Boden werfen oder anderen Gesten der Selbstminderung ist hier nicht die Rede. 59 Im Bericht der Boten wird Davids Gebaren als „weinen“ und „trauern“ (hebr. ʼabal) zusammengefasst. Aus dem allgemeinen Gestus der Trauer wird das königliche Weinen herausgehoben. Im Blick auf die siegreich heimkehrenden Truppen ist das Verhalten des Königs ein katastrophales politisches Kommunikationsangebot. Denn es wäre die Aufgabe des Königs gewesen, den Sieg zu feiern, den Boten zu belohnen und seine heimkehrenden siegreichen Krieger gebührend zu empfangen. Er aber tritt ganz aus dieser Rollenerwartung heraus und zeigt damit, dass ihn weder der Sieg noch seine Soldaten noch die wiedererlangte Königswürde interessieren. Einzig der Tod seines Sohnes, der sein Feind geworden war, ist ihm wichtig. So schleichen sich die siegreichen Krieger wie ihrer Kriegerehre beraubte Verlierer in die Stadt. Die Trauer des Königs überträgt sich auf die Haltung der rückkehrenden Soldaten – mit Ausnahme von Joab, dem Mörder Abschaloms. Erst als dieser den König mit scharfen Worten zur Rede stellt und sogar offen mit dem sofortigen Entzug seiner militärischen Macht droht, nimmt sich der trauernde David zusammen und würdigt seine Soldaten: 6 Da kam Joab zum König ins Haus und sagte: „Heute hast du Schande über alle deine Diener (Soldaten) gebracht, die dir, deinen Söhnen, deinen Töchtern, deinen Frauen und deinen Nebenfrauen heute das Leben gerettet haben: 7 Die dich hassen, liebst du, und die dich lieben, hasst du. Heute hast du wahrlich zu verstehen gegeben, dass Anführer (Heerführer) und Diener (Soldaten) dir nichts bedeuten. Ja, heute habe ich erkannt: 58 59

Gegenüber 2 Sam 15,30 wird das Verhüllen des Kopfes in dieser Szene mit anderen Worten beschrieben. Es liegt demnach kein kulttechnischer Sprachgebrauch vor. Das Verhüllen des Kopfes oder Gesichts im Zusammenhang der Trauer wird auch in Ez 24,17.22 erwähnt.

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Thomas Naumann Wenn Abschalom noch lebte und wir alle heute tot wären, dann wäre es recht in deinen Augen. 8 Und nun steh auf, geh hinaus und rede zum Herzen deiner Diener (Soldaten), denn ich schwöre bei Jhwh: Wenn du nicht hinausgehst, wird heute Nacht kein einziger Mann bei dir bleiben, und das wird für dich schlimmer sein als alles Unheil, das seit deiner Jugend bis jetzt über dich gekommen ist.“ 9 Da stand der König auf und setzte sich ins Tor […] (2 Sam 19,6–9*).

Mit diesem scharfen Kontrast zwischen Joabs Eintreten für die Staatsräson, seinen Erwartungen an einen König und Davids hemmungslosem Klagen macht der Erzähler die Tragik der Situation und die Zerrissenheit Davids zwischen den Erfordernissen der Königsherrschaft und der Bindung an seinen Sohn sichtbar. Mag die Reaktion Davids als Vater emotional nachvollziehbar sein, als entmachteter König, der seine Herrschaft wiedererlangen möchte, ist sie katastrophal, das Gegenteil einer Inszenierung königlicher Handlungsmacht, die Verweigerung sozialer und politischer Kommunikation mit seinen Kriegern. Auch diese Szene mit ihrer überbordenden Emotionalität steht in der Kritik moderner Ausleger. Der Erzähler wolle mit Davids übertriebenem Schmerz anzeigen, dass der König in einer Mischung aus emotionaler Haltlosigkeit und machtpolitischer Verblendung vor den Herrschaftsaufgaben des Königtums versage. Aber wie ich an anderer Stelle gezeigt habe, 60 ist der exzessiv weinende kriegerische Held fester Bestandteil antiker Dichtungstradition. Der Erzähler will König David in einem tragischen Konflikt zeigen und nutzt die starke Emotionalisierung der Szene dazu, um seine Rezipienten für den zwischen Sohnesliebe und Staatsräson zerrissenen Königs zu gewinnen. Das Unbehagen moderner Ausleger rührt m. E. aus der Differenz einer solchen Emotionendarstellung im öffentlichen Raum zu gegenwärtigen Konzepten von Männlichkeit.

4.

Zusammenfassung

Wir fassen unsere Beobachtungen zusammen. Gerd Althoff hatte in seinen Untersuchungen zum weinenden König in der mittelalterlichen europäischen Literatur vorgeschlagen, neben dem Emotionenausdruck vor allem die Aspekte politischer Kommunikation der Szenen zu betrachten. Wir haben uns diesen Ansatz zu eigen gemacht und nach einem Blick auf mesopotamische Könige neun Szenen analysiert, in denen weinende Könige in der Bibel präsentiert wer60

Vgl. Müllner / Naumann, Männlichkeit in Kampf und Schmerz, 310–314.

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den. Wie in der mittelalterlichen Literatur, so ist auch in den vorgestellten Quellen vielfach vom öffentlichen Weinen des Königs die Rede. Es begegnet als Geste der Demütigung vor der Gottheit und kann neben anderen Zeichen der Selbstminderung die Funktion eines flehentlichen Gebetes annehmen, um eine politische oder persönliche Notlage abzuwenden – so bei Assurbanipal, Joschija (siehe Kapitel 3.1), Hiskija (siehe Kapitel 3.2) und David in 2 Sam 12 (siehe Kapitel 3.6). Dieses Bestürmen der Gottheit durch Weinen, durch Demuts- und Unterwerfungsgesten hat rituellen Charakter und kann als „zwingende Geste“ verstanden werden, mit der die Änderung eines göttlichen Ratschlusses erreicht werden soll. Sie ist allerdings nicht immer von Erfolg gekrönt und kann von göttlicher Seite auch abgelehnt werden (siehe Kapitel 3.1 und 3.6). Ein festes kultisches Ritual, bei dem das Weinen des Königs eine Rolle spielt, wie im babylonischen Neujahrsfest, kennen die biblischen Texte nicht. Das königliche Demutsweinen vor Gott kann auch außerhalb ritualisierter Abläufe als individuelle Spontanreaktion erzählt werden, wie bei König Hiskija (siehe Kapitel 3.2) oder bei König Joasch (siehe Kapitel 3.3). In Situationen der Trauer um Verstorbene und der Totenklage begegnet das königliche Weinen nur zweimal, in Davids Trauer um Abner (siehe Kapitel 3.5) und seiner Trauer um Abschalom (siehe Kapitel 3.9). Daneben begegnet es als emotionale Schockreaktion auch außerhalb ritualisierter Abläufe. Wenn etwa König Saul an der Höhle von En-Gedi angesichts von Davids Großmut vor seinen Soldaten in Tränen ausbricht (siehe Kapitel 3.4), wenn König Joasch vor oder auf dem todkranken Elia weinend niederfällt (siehe Kapitel Nr. 3.3), wenn König David mit seinen überlebenden Söhnen in Tränen ausbricht (siehe Kapitel 3.8) oder über seinen toten Sohn Abschalom weint und klagt (siehe Kapitel 3.9). In diesen Spontanreaktionen werden etablierte Gesten der Selbstminderung genutzt, ohne dass wiederholbare rituelle Inszenierungen angenommen werden könnten. Die Szenen umfassen eine Vielzahl von Aspekten sozialer und politischer Kommunikation, wobei in diesem Aufsatz besonders die Frage der Etablierung oder Neuausrichtung königlicher Macht im Fokus stand. Dafür bietet u.a. König Davids Weinen innerhalb der Totenklage für Abner (siehe Kapitel 3.5) ein hervorragendes Beispiel. Die Inszenierung der rituellen Trauer, die der König anordnet und anführt, wird als „zwingende Geste“ zum Erweis der Unschuld Davids am Tod Abners eingesetzt, und hat bei den Anwesenden auch den entsprechenden Erfolg. Allerdings konterkariert David seine durch das Begräbnis wiedergewonnene königliche Handlungsmacht dadurch, dass er seine machtpolitische Schwäche gegenüber dem Mörder Abners gegenüber seinen Soldaten eingesteht. So hinterlässt die Szene, die mit Davids Ohnmacht endet, einen ambivalenten Eindruck. Denn einem König steht Ohnmacht gegenüber den Göttern zu, kaum gegenüber seinen Rivalen um die königliche Macht. Eine ausschließlich private Szene scheint allein Davids Kampf um das Leben seines (im Ehebruch gezeugten Kindes) zu sein (siehe Kapitel 3.7), auch wenn er sowohl im Tempel wie im Königspalast stattfindet. Nie wird das königliche Wei-

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nen vom Erzähler diskreditiert, selbst wenn es im Gegensatz zu den Erfordernissen königlichen Handelns steht, so wie bei Davids Klage um Abschalom. Davids Weinen kann seine königliche Handlungsmacht zeigen und neu begründen, ihr aber auch widersprechen. Das öffentliche königliche Weinen hat starke Auswirkungen auf die Anwesenden, die oft dem Gestus des Königs folgen wie beim Begräbnis Abners. Nur einmal springt das Weinen von den Königsöhnen auf den König und seinen Hofstaat über. Vieles von dem, was Althoff in den mittelalterlichen Epen beobachtet, findet sich auch in den biblischen Texten. Fruchtbar hat sich der Gedanke erwiesen, das königliche Weinen im Zusammenhang anderer Gesten als Mittel politischer Kommunikation zu untersuchen. Gewinnend ist überdies das Verständnis mancher Auftritte als „zwingende Gesten“, die den Adressaten zu einer bestimmten Reaktion drängen oder gar zwingen. Davids Trauer um Abner wird in dieser Weise erzählt, ebenso die königlichen Demütigungen unter die Gottheit. Aber nicht immer sind diese „zwingenden Gesten“ erfolgreich, sie laufen gelegentlich auch ins Leere, so dass man nicht von einem Automatismus sprechen kann. Althoffs These, dass die Auftritte königlichen Weinens einer vorab geplanten Inszenierung folgen, bei der alle Beteiligten von vornherein wissen, wie sie sich zu verhalten haben und worauf das Ganze hinausläuft, lässt sich in den biblischen Darstellungen bestenfalls für die rituellen Totenklagen ansatzweise vermuten, aber weder bei den Bußszenen vor Gott noch bei den Spontanreaktionen glaubhaft machen. Als ungewöhnlich ertragreich indes hat sich der Ansatz gezeigt, die vielfältigen kommunikativen Aspekte der Szenen zu untersuchen, in denen der König in der Bibel weint.

Literatur Althoff, Gerd: Der König weint. Rituelle Tränen in öffentlicher Kommunikation. In: Müller, Jan-Dirk (Hg.): „Aufführung“ und „Schrift“ in Mittelalter und früher Neuzeit. Stuttgart u. a. 1996, 239– 252. ________. Empörung, Tränen, Zerknirschung. Emotionen in der öffentlichen Kommunikation des Mittelalters, in: ders., Spielregeln der Politik im Mittelalter. Kommunikation in Frieden und Fehde, Darmstadt 1997, 258-81. Ambos, Claus: Weinen aus Demut. Der babylonische König beim Neujahrsfest, in: ders. u. a. (Hg.), Die Welt der Rituale. Von der Antike bis heute, Darmstadt 2005, 38–40. Auld, Graham: 1 & 2 Samuel. A Commentary, Louisville 2011. Bender, Claudia: Geschick Gottes? Krankheit im Königshaus als theologisches Problem: BN 104 (2000), 48–68. Bester, Dörte: Art. Weinen (AT), erstellt 2011, in: Bauks, Michaela / Koenen, Klaus (Hg.), Das wissenschaftliche Bibellexikon im Internet (www.wibilex.de). Beuken, Willem A. M.: Jesaja 28–39 (Herders Theologischer Kommentar zum Alten Testament), Freiburg i. Br. 2010.

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Bietenhard, Sophia: Des Königs General. Die Heerführertraditionen in der vorstaatlichen und frühen staatlichen Zeit und die Joabgestalt in 2 Sam 2–20; 1 Kön 1–2 (OBO 163), Fribourg / Göttingen 1998. Bordieu, Pierre: Die männliche Herrschaft, Frankfurt 2005 (frz. 1998). Borger, Rykele: Beiträge zum Inschriftenwerk Assurbanipals. Die Prismenklasse A, B, C = K, D, E, F, G, H, J und T sowie die anderen Inschriften. Mit einem Beitrag von A. Fuchs, Wiesbaden 1996. Bosworth, David A.: House of Weeping. The Motif of Tears in Akkadian and Hebrew Prayers (Ancient Near East Monographs 24), Atlanta 2019. Dietrich, Walter: Samuel. 1Sam 13–26 (Biblischer Kommentar Altes Testament, Bd. VIII/2), Neukirchen-Vluyn 2015. ________. Samuel. 1Sam 27–2Sam 8 (Biblischer Kommentar Altes Testament, Bd. VIII/3), NeukirchenVluyn 2019. Fögen, Thorsten (Hg.): Tears in the Graeco-Roman World, Berlin u. a. 2009. Hasegawa, Shuichi: Aram and Israel During the Jehuite Dynasty (BZAW 434), Berlin / New York 2012. Heckl, Raik: Die Errettung des Königs durch seinen Gott. Die literarische Quelle der Gebete Hiskijas im Kontext von 2 Kön 19f. (par.) und ihre Rolle bei der Ausformulierung des Monotheismusbekenntnisses, in: Berlejung, Angelika / Heckl, Raik (Hg.), Mensch und König. Studien zur Anthropologie des Alten Testaments. FS Rüdiger Lux (HBS 53), Freiburg i. Br. 2008, 157–170. Hugo, Philippe: Der Mord an Abner und Amasa. Literarische Dimensionen textlicher Abweichungen zwischen dem Masoretischen Text und der Septuaginta in der David-Geschichte, in: Dietrich, Walter (Hg.), Seitenblicke. Literarische und historische Studien zu Nebenfiguren im zweiten Samuelbuch (OBO 249), Göttingen / Fribourg 2011, 24–52. Janowski, Bernd: Anthropologie des Alten Testaments. Grundfragen, Kontexte, Themenfelder; mit einem Quellenanhang und zahlreichen Abbildungen, Tübingen 2019. Kellermann, Dieter: Art. rākak, in: ThWAT VII, 519–521. Kipfer, Sara: Der bedrohte David. Eine exegetische und rezeptionsgeschichtliche Studie zu 1Sam 16– 1 Kön 2 (Studies of the Bible and its Reception 3), Berlin u. a. 2015. Koch, Heike: Trauer und Identität. Inszenierungen von Emotionen in der deutschen Literatur des Mittelalters (Trends in Medieval Philology), Berlin u. a. 2006. Köhlmoos, Melanie: Art. Trauer (AT), erstellt 2012, in: Bauks, Michaela / Koenen, Klaus (Hg.), Das wissenschaftliche Bibellexikon im Internet (www.wibilex.de). ________. In tiefer Trauer. Mimik und Gestik angesichts von Tod und Schrecken, in: Wagner, Andreas (Hg.), Anthropologische Aufbrüche. Alttestamentliche und interdisziplinäre Zugänge zur historischen Anthropologie (FRLANT 232), Göttingen 2009, 381–394. Küchler, Max: Jerusalem. Ein Handbuch und Studienreiseführer zur Heiligen Stadt (Orte und Landschaften der Bibel IV/1), Göttingen 2007. Kustár, Zoltan: Durch seine Wunden sind wir geheilt. Eine Untersuchung zur Metaphorik von Israels Krankheit und Heilung im Jesajabuch (BWANT 154), Stuttgart 2002. Kutsch, Ernst: „Trauerbräuche“ und Selbstminderungsriten im Alten Testament, in: Lüthi, Kurt u. a., Drei Wiener Antrittsreden (ThSt 78), Zürich 1965, 23–37 = wiederabgedruckt in: ders., Kleine Schriften zum Alten Testament (BZAW 168), Berlin 1986, 78-95. Layton, Scott C.: A Chain Gang in 2Samuel iii 29. A Rejoinder, in: Vetus Testamentum 39 (1989), 81– 86. Leuenberger, Martin: Das Problem des vorzeitigen Todes in der israelitischen Religions- und Theologiegeschichte, in: Berlejung, Angelika / Janowski, Bernd (Hg.), Tod und Jenseits im Alten Israel und seiner Umwelt (FAT 64), Tübingen 2009, 151–176. Maul, Stefan: Das Gilgamesch-Epos. Neu übersetzt und kommentiert, 6. Aufl., München 2014. ________. Weinen aus Trauer. Der Tod Enkidus, in: Ambos, Claus u. a. (Hg.), Die Welt der Rituale. Von der Antike bis heute, Darmstadt 2005, 22–23. McKenzie, Steven: König David. Eine Biographie, Berlin u. a. 2002. ________. The Sons of Zeruiah, in: Dietrich, Walter (Hg.), Seitenblicke. Literarische und historische Studien zu Nebenfiguren im zweiten Samuelbuch (OBO 249), Fribourg / Göttingen, 2011, 293– 313.

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Meuser, Michael: Art. Soziologie, in: Horlacher, Stefan u. a. (Hg.), Männlichkeit. Ein interdisziplinäres Handbuch, Stuttgart 2016, 218-236. Muir, Edward: Ritual in Early Modern Europe, Cambridge u. a. 1997. Müller, Hans-Peter: Gilgameschs Trauergesang um Enkidu und die Gattung der Totenklage, in: Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 68 (1978), 233–250. ________. Gilgameschs Trauergesang um Enkidu und die Gattung der Totenklage, in: Zeitschrift für Assyriologie und Vorderasiatische Archäologie 68 (2009) 233-250. Naumann, Thomas: „Crying Heroes“. Öffentlich weinende Männer in Athen und Jerusalem, in: Frettlöh, Magdalena L. / Krebs, A. (Hg.), „Von Jerusalem nach Athen und zurück über….“. FS für Hans Peter Lichtenberger zum 65. Geburtstag, Würzburg (im Erscheinen). Naumann, Thomas / Müllner, Ilse: Männlichkeit in Kampf und Schmerz – Aspekte einer Geschlechteranthropologie der Samuelbücher, in: Dietrich, Walter (Hg.), The Books of Samuel. Stories – History – Reception History (BETHL), Leuven (Belgien) 2016, 303–316. Niu, Zhixiong: „The King lifted Up his Voice and Wept.“ Davids Mourning in the Second Book of Samuel, Rome 2013. Olyan, Saul M.: „That Our Eyes Might Run with Tears“. Ritual and Social Dimensions of Biblical Mourning, Oxford 2003. ________.Biblical Mourning: Ritual and Social Dimensions, Oxford 2004. Pham, Xuan Huong Thi: Mourning in the Ancient Near East and the Hebrew Bible (JSOT.S 302) Sheffield 1999. Schroer, Silvia: Biblische Klagetraditionen zwischen Ritual und Literatur. Eine genderbezogene Skizze, in: Jaques, Margaret (Hg.), Klagetraditionen. Form und Funktion der Klage in den Kulturen der Antike (OBO 251), Fribourg / Göttingen 2011, 83–321. ________. Trauerriten und Totenklage im Alten Israel. Frauenmacht und Machtkonflikte, in: Berlejung, Angelika / Janowski, Bernd (Hg.), Tod und Jenseits im alten Israel und in seiner Umwelt (FAT 64), Tübingen 2009, 299–321. Schroer, Silvia / Staubli, Thomas: Weinen und Lachen in der Bibel, in: Nitschke, August u. a. (Hg.): Überraschendes Lachen, gefordertes Weinen. Gefühle und Prozesse. Kulturen und Epochen im Vergleich (Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Historische Anthropologie, Bd. 11), Wien u. a. 2009, 483–508. Stoebe, Hans-Joachim: Das zweite Samuelbuch (Kommentar zum Alten Testament VIII/2), Gütersloh 1996. Stolz, Fritz: Art. ‫ בכה‬bkh, in: Westermann, Claus / Jenni, Ernst (Hg.), Theologisches Handwörterbuch zu Alten Testament, Bd. 1, München 1976, 313–316. Vanderkam, James C.: Davidic Complicity in the Deaths of Abner and Eshbaal, in: Journal of Biblical Literature 99 (1980), 521–539. Wagner, Andreas: Gefühl, Emotion und Affekt in der Sprachanalyse des Hebräischen, in: KUSATSU 7 (2006), 7–47. Weingart, Kristin: „My Father, My Father! Chariot of Israel and Its Horses!“ (2 Kings 2:12 // 13:14): Elisha’s or Elijah’s Title?, in: Journal of Biblical Literature 137 (2018), 257–270. Zgoll, Annette: Königslauf und Götterrat. Struktur und Deutung des babylonischen Neujahrsfestes, in: Blum, Erhard / Lux, Rüdiger (Hg.), Festtraditionen in Israel und im Alten Orient, Gütersloh 2006, 11–80. Zgoll, Annette / Lämmerhirt, Kai: Lachen und Weinen im antiken Mesopotamien. Eine funktionale Analyse, in: Nitschke, August u. a. (Hg.), Überraschendes Lachen, gefordertes Weinen. Gefühle und Prozesse Kulturen und Epochen im Vergleich (Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Historische Anthropologie, Bd. 11), Wien u. a. 2009, 449–483. Zimran, Yisca: “Look, the King Is Weeping and Mourning”. Expressions of Mourning in the David Narratives and Their Interpretative Contribution, in: Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 42 (2018), 491–517.

Das Geschlecht der Politik. Familie und Herrschaft in der dynastischen Monarchie Ilse Müllner

Summary The Books of Samuel provide deep insights into the Davidic family with its conflicts, its power plays, and its struggles on the field of sexuality and reproduction. The ambivalence of the main characters as well as the concept of monarchy as such are best understood by focusing on the dynastic aspects of this form of governing. In the postexilic era, the loss of the institutionalized Judahite kingdom is compensated for by the narrative space of these family stories, providing an opportunity of identifying with the characters at a time when there is no Israelite king at all. Die Samuelbücher geben tiefe Einblicke in die davidische Familie mit ihren Konflikten, ihren Machtspielen und ihren Kämpfen auf dem Gebiet der Sexualität und Reproduktion. Die Ambivalenz der Hauptfiguren sowie das Konzept der Monarchie als solches werden am besten verstanden, wenn man sich auf die dynastischen Aspekte dieser Regierungsform konzentriert. In der nachexilischen Epoche wird der Verlust des institutionalisierten judäischen Königtums durch den Erzählraum dieser Familiengeschichten kompensiert, was die Möglichkeit bietet, sich mit den Figuren in einer Zeit zu identifizieren, in der es überhaupt keinen israelitischen König gibt.

1.

Ambivalenzen von Herrschaft

Ein zentrales Thema der biblischen Samuelbücher ist die Etablierung des Königtums, eines Herrschaftssystems also, das im Alten Orient mit der Einsetzung durch eine Gottheit begründet und wesentlich auf das System Familie angewiesen ist. Die Samuelbücher sind politische Literatur im doppelten Sinn. Sie beschreiben politische Verhältnisse, indem sie von Aushandlungsprozessen gesellschaftlicher Macht erzählen. Sie machen aber auch Politik, weil die Erzählung in je neuen Kontexten gelesen ihr Licht auf die jeweilige gesellschaftliche Wirklichkeit wirft und diese kritisch mit den Mitteln politischer Theologie hinterfragen lässt. 1 „Gesellschaften bilden Herrschaftssysteme heraus, die Macht strukturieren und in ständigen Aushandlungsprozessen immer wieder neu stabilisieren. Macht erstreckt sich auf unterschiedliche gesellschaftliche Felder, etwa des Militärs, der Religion und der Ökonomie. In diesen Bereichen wird gesellschaftliche Macht gebündelt, wo ein Königtum etab1

Vgl. Müllner, Werk Politischer Theologie.

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Ilse Müllner liert und dynastisch erblich gemacht wird. 1 Sam – 2 Kön erzählen von solchen Aushandlungsprozessen eines dynastischen Königtums, das aber als durchaus instabil gekennzeichnet und in seinen konkreten Formen sehr kritisch beleuchtet wird. Mit dieser ambivalenten Darstellung von Herrschaft positionieren sich 1 Sam – 2 Kön zwischen den beiden Polen der Divinisierung königlicher Herrschaft und der radikalen Ablehnung menschlicher Herrschaft zu Gunsten eines Konzepts der Königsherrschaft Gottes.“ 2

Die Ambivalenzen der Darstellung der Samuelbücher sind hinlänglich bekannt 3 und werden oft mit dem Fokus auf einzelne Figuren (davidfreundlich/-kritisch, salomofreundlich/-kritisch) verhandelt oder mit dem Blick auf das Königtum als solches (königsfreundlich/-kritisch). Ich will im Folgenden darstellen, warum ich meine, dass eine Konzentration auf das dynastische Königtum als Herrschaftsform helfen kann, um die Ambivalenzen der David-Erzählungen präziser zu beschreiben und in möglichen historischen Settings zu verstehen. Herrschaft ist kein stabiler Zustand. Vergleichbar mit dem physikalischen Körper auf einer schiefen Ebene tendiert eine Situation, in der bestimmte Menschen institutionalisierte Macht über andere ausüben, dazu, in Bewegung zu geraten. Herrschaft muss stets stabilisiert werden, sie wird nicht einfach in einer bestimmten historischen Situation etabliert und bleibt dann von selbst in ihrer Position. Diese permanente, immer wiederkehrende Stabilisierung ist ein gesellschaftlicher Auftrag, der (nach Max Weber) in einer Co-Konstruktion von Herrschenden und Beherrschten gemeinsam wahrgenommen wird. In einem komplexen Wechselspiel von Begründung und Anerkennung werden die politischen Machtverhältnisse stets neu ausgehandelt und performativ in Szene gesetzt. Herrschaft wird in diesem Modell nicht einlinig von oben nach unten gedacht, sondern als Produkt sozialer Prozesse, an denen alle Mitglieder einer Gesellschaft in verschiedenen Rollen und sicherlich auch in unterschiedlichem Maß mitwirken. Die dynastische Form des Königtums ist eine Weise, Herrschaft zu legitimieren, sie hat im Alten Orient größtes Gewicht. 4 Legitimation und Stabilisierung geschehen auch hier durch ineinandergreifende Prozesse: 1. Die translatio imperii, also die Rückführung der königlichen Macht auf eine Übertragung durch die Gottheit, wird auf Dauer gestellt. Sie muss nicht immer wieder neu vollzogen werden, sondern kann sich in der dynastischen Linie realisieren. Der dazu aussagekräftigste Text innerhalb der Samuelbücher ist natürlich 2 Sam 7 mit seiner Verheißung einer ewigen Dynastie. 2. Das entlastet den herrschenden König, der die Legitimation seiner eigenen Herrschaft im Idealfall auf mehrere Generationen zurückführen kann.

2 3 4

Müllner, Gendered Politics, 164f. Vgl. die These von Halbertal / Holmes, Beginning, mit Blick auf die Samuelbücher. Einen kurzen, aber sehr instruktiven Forschungsüberblick zu dieser Frage gibt Kipfer, Der bedrohte David, 45–49. Vgl. Müller, Herrschaftslegitimation, 203.

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3.

Das entlastet aber auch die unmittelbaren Situationen der Übergabe königlicher Macht, im Normalfall dann, wenn ein König gestorben ist. Die stets prekäre Situation der Machtübergabe wird in einer Dynastie durch ein Regelwerk der Erbfolge bestimmt. Diese Konstruktion dynastischer Herrschaft könnte für alle Seiten ein befriedigendes uns vor allem stabilisierendes System bereitstellen. Allerdings belehrt uns ein Blick in die Geschichte der unterschiedlichsten Königtümer dieser Welt eines Besseren. Immer wieder gibt es Nachfolgekämpfe, auch dort, wo eine Sukzession zunächst geregelt erscheint. Außerdem sind im Regelwerk vorgesehene, jedoch unfähige Herrscher oder aber das Ausbleiben von (männlichen) Nachkommen Herausforderungen, die durch je neue Anpassungen an die Situation bewältigt werden müssen – oder aber dazu führen, dass das dynastische Herrschaftssystem als solches in Frage gestellt wird.

2.

Funktionen der Dynastie

Die Samuelbücher erzählen eine soziale Situation, in der zunächst in Israel der erste König zur Organisation der Gesellschaft eingesetzt wird. Dann etabliert sich – gerade nicht in der Erbfolge dieses ersten Königs Saul – das dynastische Königtum als Herrschaftsform. Diese gesellschaftliche Bewegung geschieht von Anfang an unter großen Spannungen, die in den Erzählungen entfaltet werden. Einerseits ist Saul regierender und gesalbter König, andererseits ist David schon gesalbt, hat aber noch keine Herrscherfunktionen. Die Frage nach der Sukzession Sauls liegt – wenn nicht schon mit 1 Sam 13 und 15, den beiden Verwerfungsszenen so doch spätestens mit der Salbung Davids in 1 Sam 16 – in der Luft. Aber auch die Sukzession auf den Thron Davids ist alles andere als einlinig erzählt. Einerseits ist David eine ewige Dynastie verheißen, andererseits gerät das Haus Davids sehr bald gewaltig unter Druck – und zwar von innen. Für die Verheißung ebenso wie für die Gefährdung der Dynastie gibt es je eine Schlüsselszene, die mit dem Propheten Natan verbunden ist. Die beiden großen Szenen mit Natan als Protagonisten (2 Sam 7 und 2 Sam 12) stehen für die beiden Pole von Sicherheit und Bedrohtheit dynastischer Herrschaft. Dass 2 Sam 7 nicht ohne 2 Sam 12 zu haben ist und dass 2 Sam 11, also die Ursünde Davids, dazwischensteht, zeigt, dass die Dynastie von Anfang an ein schwieriges Unterfangen ist. Einerseits gilt der Familie Davids die Zusage, dass sie dauerhaft die Regierungsmacht innehaben wird, was für politische Stabilität steht (2 Sam 7). Andererseits wird die Familie zum Austragungsort gewalttätiger Konflikte; die Auseinandersetzungen zwischen den Geschlechtern und den Generationen werden zur Metonymie politischer Instabilität (2 Sam 12).

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Königtum und Familie bilden in den Samuelbüchern kein harmonisches Ganzes, das die Herrschaft ‫ עד עולם‬stabilisieren würde. 5 Staat und Verwandtschaft, die nach Hegel in einem antagonistischen Verhältnis stehen, scheinen nicht zusammenzupassen, weil sie unterschiedliche Bindungen und Loyalitäten verlangen. Hegel macht den Konflikt zwischen Staat und Familie unter anderem an Antigone fest. Diese zeige, indem sie den königlichen Befehl missachtet, um ihren Bruder zu bestatten, eine Verwandtschaftsbezogenheit, die sich gegen den Staat stelle. 6 Auch die in den Samuelbüchern beheimatete „hebräische Antigone“ 7 Rizpa stellt die Verwandtschaft über die politische Staatsraison. Indem sie dem Haus Sauls, ihrer eigenen Familie also, vollständige Loyalität zukommen lässt, stellt sie sich gegen den amtierenden König David und dessen potentielles Haus. Die beiden königlichen Häuser aber treffen in 2 Sam 21 nur sehr verzerrt aufeinander. Das Haus Sauls hatte sich niemals als solches etabliert, sondern ist in der Erzählung der Samuelbücher immer nur wie ein Schatten der Davidsherrschaft in einzelnen Figuren präsent (Jonatan, Mefiboschet, Ziba, Scheba, Michal natürlich). Das Haus Davids ist zwar verheißen, hat sich aber noch nicht konstituiert, weil erst die Thronfolge von einem König zu dessen Sohn die Dynastie überhaupt zu einer solchen macht. Dass Rizpa an dieser Stelle (2 Sam 21) innerhalb der Erzählung agiert, also im Plot zwischen Abschalom- und Schebaaufstand (2 Sam 15–20) einerseits und dem alten David in 1 Kön 1 andererseits, zeigt, dass es nicht einfach um einen partiellen Konflikt zwischen den beiden Häusern Saul und David geht, sondern viel grundsätzlicher um das Verhältnis zwischen Verwandtschaft und Staat. Dieses ist prekär und verlangt das komplexe Austarieren unterschiedlicher Loyalitäten. Die Dynastie ist ein Versuch, den Antagonismus zu überwinden, indem man die Familie selbst als Staatsform etabliert. Die Samuelbücher zeigen, dass eine Überwindung des Antagonismus mit diesem Mittel nur partiell gelingt, weil die Familie der Ort von Vulnerabilität jeder Dynastie war und bleiben wird. 85F

859F

3.

„Völkergeschichte als Familiengeschichte“ – auch in den Samuelbüchern

„Nur die Geschichten um David und das Buch Rut sind, was das Interesse an Frauengestalten betrifft, den EEE ebenbürtig“. 8 Ausgehend von der Beobach5 6 7 8

‫עד־עולם‬: 2 Sam 7,13.16 (2x).24.25.26; ‫לעולם‬: 2 Sam 7,29 (2x). Eine vertiefte Auseinandersetzung mit diesem Hegelschen Paradigma führt Butler, Antigones Verlangen. Vgl. Buber, Weisheit. Fischer, Erzeltern, 374, Anm. 2.

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tung, dass in den Erzeltern-Erzählungen der Genesis (Gen 12–36) Frauengestalten ein außergewöhnlich hohes Maß an Aufmerksamkeit bekommen, entwickelt Irmtraud Fischer 1994 in ihrer Habilitationsschrift eine literargeschichtliche These, die diesem Befund Rechnung trägt und dabei jene Deutungsmuster nicht anlegt, die überkommene Geschlechterklischees reproduzieren. Sie stellt fest, dass die Frauengeschichten nicht neben und hinter den Männergeschichten erzählt werden, dass nicht die Frauengestalten eine Privatsphäre jenseits des Politischen bewohnen, sondern dass die Familiengeschichten, die in den Erzeltern-Erzählungen präsent sind, genau die Gestalt sind, in der die Geschichte von Völkern erzählt wird. Die Formel „Völkergeschichte als Familiengeschichte“ 9 entlarvt die Gegenüberstellung „privat“ versus „politisch“ als Anachronismus aus dem 19. nachchristlichen Jahrhundert. Die Vorstellung von zwei getrennten Sphären ist für vormoderne Gesellschaften nicht zutreffend. Die ErzelternErzählungen entwerfen die Ursprünge des Volkes Israel als Familiengeschichte und tragen auf diese Weise dazu bei, dass sich die judäische Identität in einer familienbasierten Gesellschaft etablieren und unter nachexilischen Bedingungen weiter entfalten kann. „Die Bibel stellt die Anfänge prägender Epochen in Form von Familienerzählungen dar, da im genealogischen Denken des Alten Orients für alle Nachkommen gilt, was für die Gründergeneration galt. Gemeinsamer Ursprung vergewissert in Zeiten der Krise und wirkt identitätsbildend und -stärkend, wo soziale Gruppen neu formiert werden (müssen).“ 10

Auch in den David-Erzählungen sind Frauengestalten in unterschiedlichen sozialen Rollen präsent, hier sind die Familien-Erzählungen ebenso kein Nebenschauplatz der hohen Politik, sondern der Austragungsort von Auseinandersetzung um die Tragfähigkeit der politischen Konzepte, die hier auf dem Spiel stehen. Die Dichte und strukturelle Bedeutsamkeit der Frauenfiguren stellen die Auslegung vor die Frage, wie dieses Phänomen gedeutet werden kann. Deshalb gehe ich in Bezug auf die Samuelbücher der Frage nach, welche Rolle in der politischen Geschichtsschreibung die Frauen spielen. Auch in den Samuelbüchern zeigt sich ein Fokus auf das Familiengeschehen. Und ebenso wie in den Erzählungen der Genesis sind die Familien-Erzählungen der Samuelbücher selbst politische Geschichtsschreibung. Allerdings geht es in den Samuelbüchern nicht wie in der Genesis um ein Volk, das aus einem Familienverband erwächst, sondern es ist eine Familie, die als beginnende Herrscherdynastie die Aufmerksamkeit auf sich zieht. Die Ereignisse in der Familie Davids sind politisches Geschehen, ebenso wie Davids Verhalten als Ehemann, Liebhaber und Vater nur im Kontext seines Königtums zu interpretieren ist. Analog dazu stehen Frauenfiguren in verschiedenen Rollen auf der politischen Bühne der erzählten Welt. 9 10

Fischer, Erzeltern, 378. Fischer, Menschheitsfamilie, 196f.

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Wenn man diesen politischen Fokus von Familien-Erzählungen als sinnvolles Deutungsinstrumentarium anerkennt, dann wird es auch unmöglich, zwischen individuell-persönlicher und hierarchischer Macht zu unterscheiden und Frauen den Zugang zur hierarchischen Macht abzusprechen. „Das Urteil der älteren Forschung, dass Frauen am Königshof Macht ausschließlich aufgrund ihres Verwandtschaftsstatus und nur in Form von persönlicher Macht, nicht aber als Beteiligung an der hierarchischen Macht zukomme, ist daher zurückzuweisen. Es bleibt allerdings das Problem, dass wir aufgrund der dürftigen Quellenlage und der in einzelnen Texten zu findenden negativen Wertung der Herrschaft durch Frauen kaum zwischen der persönlichen Machtausübung, die erfolgreich und geschickt oder problematisch sein kann, und der den Frauen zukommenden institutionellen Macht unterscheiden können.“ 11

Zudem sind weder Frauen- noch Männergestalten in den Samuelbüchern als monadische Einzelwesen vorzustellen. Ihre Figurenanalyse ist analog zur historischen Anthropologie ebenfalls als konstellativ zu beschreiben. Individualität wird im Alten Orient und in der Antike nicht als Singularität konzipiert, sondern stets in Zusammenhang mit gesellschaftlicher Einbindung gesehen. 12 Zwar dürfen bei der Würdigung des konstellativen Personbegriffs die individuellen Aspekte der Figuren nicht übersehen werden. Diese müssen aber auf dem Hintergrund der Erkenntnisse zur konstellativen Anthropologie entwickelt werden, um nicht in die Falle des neuzeitlichen Individualismus zu geraten. Es ist unumgänglich, die Kriterien für Individualität zu historisieren, um nicht anachronistisch Kategorien der Gegenwart zu projizieren. 13 Auch die Figur Davids gewinnt ihr Profil durch vertikale und horizontale Einbindung. Vertikal ist die besondere Gottesnähe Davids eine Qualität, die in den Erzählungen und ganz besonders in den poetischen Passagen der Samuelbücher entfaltet wird. Horizontal steht David in einem komplexen Netz von Beziehungen zu nahen und fernen Figuren, von denen die Familie Davids besonders herauszuheben ist. Diese Familie, das Haus Davids, gewinnt durch die Etablierung der dynastischen Herrschaftsform eine zentrale Stellung im Machtdiskurs, die Familie wird zum Mittelpunkt königlicher Macht. Dementsprechend stark liegt der Fokus der Erzählungen auf dem Handeln im Kontext der Familie, das in diesem Zusammenhang stets auch herrschaftspolitisches Handeln bedeutet. Die Familie ist aber auch ein Ort machtpolitischer Auseinandersetzungen. Das hat Auswirkungen auf die Bedeutung von Sexualität und auf die Konstruktionen von Männlichkeit und Weiblichkeit. Geschlechterverhältnisse werden unter diesen Voraussetzungen zum Austragungsort herrschaftspolitischer Auseinandersetzungen, die Familie zum Feld von Konflikten um Herrschaft und um die Legitimierung des 11 12 13

Häusl, Frauen, 192. Janowski, Anerkennung. Vgl. Kipfer, Individualität, 152.

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Königtums. Familiale Konfliktlinien wie die Auseinandersetzungen zwischen Brüdern oder Vätern und Söhnen, Ehebruch und Inzest stehen in der Davidsfamilie in einem neuen, einem herrschaftspolitischen Zusammenhang.

4.

Ambivalente Verheißung

2 Sam 7, die Verheißung der davidischen Dynastie durch Natan, arbeitet mit der Mehrdeutigkeit des Begriffs ‫( בית‬Haus). Zunächst will David Jhwh ein Haus, also einen Tempel bauen. Dieses Ansinnen weist Jhwh zurück mit dem Hinweis auf das wandernde Heiligtum in der Zeit der Wüstenwanderung und den Anfängen Israels und kehrt das Motiv des Hausbaus um. „Jhwh verkündet dir, dass Jhwh dir ein Haus schafft.“ (2 Sam 7,11)

Hier verschiebt sich die Bedeutung vom materiellen Gebäude, das David für Gott errichten will, hin zur Familie, die Jhwh David schenkt. Im Ausblick auf den salomonischen Tempel verbinden sich die beiden Bedeutungsstränge noch einmal. Nicht David, sondern sein Sohn wird Jhwh ein Haus bauen. „Wenn deine Tage erfüllt sind und du dich zu deinen Vätern legst, werde ich deinen Nachkommen, der aus deinem Leib hervorgegangen ist, einsetzen und sein Königtum festigen.“ (2 Sam 7,12)

Die Betonung der leiblichen Komponente von Nachkommenschaft durch die beiden Begriffe ‫( זרע‬Same, Nachkommen) und ‫( מעיך‬dein Leib) spielt die reproduktive Komponente von Sexualität ein. Die genealogische Linie von den Vätern über David selbst hin zu seinem Sohn wird in V. 12 in ihrer Körperlichkeit betont, um dann in V. 14 metaphorisch auf das Verhältnis zwischen Gott und dem Nachkommen Davids übertragen zu werden. Diese Verbindung der physischen mit der theologischen Sohnschaft dient der Stabilisierung jenes Hauses Davids, das als Königtum ewig Bestand haben wird. Das zweifache „auf ewig“ (‫ )עד־עולם‬in V. 16 hebt die Bestandszusage ohne jede zeitliche Einschränkung hervor. Doch dieses auf ewig zugesagte Haus Davids bekommt schon bald Risse. Ausgelöst durch sein größtes Vergehen, den Ehebruch mit Batseba und die Ermordung Urijas (2 Sam 11,27; vgl. 1 Kön 15,5) droht Natan ihm Konsequenzen aus diesem Verhalten an. Auch die Gewaltandrohung für das Haus Davids gilt auf ewig (‫)עד־עולם‬. 2 Sam 12,10 greift diese Formulierung aus 2 Sam 7 auf, doch ist es hier nicht die Bestandszusage wie in der Dynastieverheißung, sondern die Aussicht auf gewalttätige Konflikte, die nun auf ewig gestellt sind: „Das Schwert wird auf ewig nicht mehr von deinem Haus weichen“ (2 Sam 12,10). Und „das Unheil (‫ )רעה‬wird aus deinem eigenen Haus (‫ )מביתך‬gegen dich aufstehen“ (2 Sam 12,14).

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Natans Gerichtsrede ergänzt die göttliche Bestandsgarantie aus 2 Sam 7 durch eine „göttliche Gewaltgarantie“. 14 Im Erzählverlauf der Samuelbücher gibt es also keinen Zeitraum, in dem dieses Haus Davids wirklich stabil gewesen wäre. Zunächst ist es verheißen, dann schon sehr bald – immer noch in einer proleptischen Zeitperspektive – bedroht. Die Realisierung der Dynastie als Übergabe des Königtums an einen Nachfolger aus der eigenen Familie steht durch 2 Sam 12 noch vor jeder monarchischen Sukzession in der erzählten Welt unter dem Vorzeichen von Schwert und Unheil. Die Formulierungen in 2 Sam 12,11f. stellen die Konsequenzen aus Davids Handeln in das Prinzip der Talio: „So spricht Jhwh: ‚Siehe, ich werde das Unheil aufstehen lassen gegen dich aus deinem eigenen Haus. Ich werde deine Frauen vor deinen Augen nehmen und sie deinem Nächsten geben. Er wird mit deinen Frauen vor dieser Sonne schlafen. Denn du hast es heimlich getan, ich aber werde diese Sache vor ganz Israel und vor der Sonne tun.‘“ (2 Sam 12,11– 12)

Frauen sind in der Perspektive der Gerichtsrede Natans (2 Sam 12,7–12) ausschließlich Objekte des Gebens und Nehmens, und die göttlichen Sanktionen werden in eine Auseinandersetzung um Ehre und Schande zwischen Männern verwandelt. „Inhaltlich umkreist die Gerichtsrede die beiden Verbrechen Davids gegenüber dem Hetiter Urija (Ehebruch und Mord), reflektiert diese aber nicht individualethisch, wie es Natans Erzählung vom Viehdiebstahl nahelegen könnte, sondern staatspolitisch mit Blick auf Königtum und Dynastie, womit auch die Verfügung über die (königlichen) Frauen verbunden wird. […] Der Text macht klar, dass es ausschließlich um eine Auseinandersetzung um Ehre und Ehrverletzung unter Männern geht. David ist an Urija und gegenüber seinem göttlichen Patron schuldig geworden. Und die vorgesehenen Sanktionen Gottes zielen auf die öffentliche Beschämung Davids. In der Vorstellungswelt dieser prophetischen Unheilsrede sind Frauen ›Verfügungsmasse‹ männlicher Patrone (Ehemann, König, Gott).“ 15

Narrativ wird die prophetische Ankündigung von Schwert und Unheil in den folgenden Kapiteln, beginnend mit der Vergewaltigung Tamars durch ihren Bruder Amnon (2 Sam 13) über den Abschalomaufstand (2 Sam 14–20), die zusammenfassende Retrospektive des konfliktreichen Lebens Davids (2 Sam 21–24) bis hin zur Machtübergabe an Salomo (1 Kön 1–2) fortgesetzt. Auch wenn die im Gefolge von und in der Auseinandersetzung mit Leonhard Rost eingebürgerte Bezeichnung von der „Thronfolgeerzählung“ für diesen Textbereich (mit Ausnahme von 2 Sam 21–24) den inhaltlichen Fokus zu eng fasst, so ist doch unübersehbar, dass das Nachfolgethema eine wichtige Rolle in diesen Erzählungen einnimmt. Die enge Verknüpfung von 2 Sam 7 und 2 Sam 12 zeigt, dass das Thema Nachfolge dem Dynastiemotiv inhärent ist Die narrative Entfaltung der angekündigten 14 15

Naumann, Schuld- und Beschämungsdiskurse, 98. Naumann, Schuld- und Beschämungsdiskurse, 97, 98f.

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Konflikte lässt die Instabilität der Dynastie offensichtlich werden. Der Einblick in die Beziehungsdynamiken der Protagonist_innen hilft die politischen Verhältnisse zu analysieren und hat deshalb seinen Platz im Rahmen antiker Historiographie. Ina Willi-Plein formuliert mit Bezug auf die Beobachtung der hohen Präsenz von Frauengestalten in der Thronfolgeerzählung: „Auch wenn wir sie als ‚Court History‘ charakterisieren, ist sie keine antike Regenbogenpresse, es geht weder dem Verfasser noch den von ihm ins Auge gefassten Adressaten um die Frage, ob und warum David ein Frauenheld war, sondern es geht offenbar um Entwicklungen des Königtums, zu deren Verständnis diese Frauengeschichten den Schlüssel liefern. Allerdings müssen die modernen Leser diesen Schlüssel wohl sorgfältiger suchen als die ursprünglichen Adressaten.“ 16

5.

Konflikte um Macht und Sexualität

Macht und Sexualität sind zentrale Felder der Auseinandersetzung in den Erzählungen der Samuelbücher, im dynastischen Königtum bündelt sich beides. 17 Beginnend mit Davids Übergriff an Batseba und der Ermordung Urijas zieht sich der Zusammenhang von Sexualität, Macht und Gewalt durch die Erzählungen der Samuelbücher bis in den Anfang der Königsbücher hinein. Paradigmatisch für andere Konstellationen untersuche ich hier Abschaloms sexuellen Gewaltakt an den zehn Frauen seines Vaters (2 Sam 16,20–23), weil sich in dieser Sequenz viele Themen der Dynastie widerspiegeln. Der literarische Kontext dieser Szene ist der Abschalomaufstand. Auch dieser hat seine Vorgeschichte in sexuellen Übergriffen: zunächst demjenigen seines Vaters David an Batseba, dann der Vergewaltigung der Davidstochter Tamar durch ihren Bruder Amnon. Abschalom hatte daraufhin den Bruder ermordet und nach einer Zeit des Exils begonnen, das Volk gegen seinen Vater, den amtierenden König, aufzubringen. Nach der Flucht Davids aus Jerusalem erobert nun Abschalom die Stadt und sucht gemeinsam mit seinen Ratgebern nach Möglichkeiten, die Machtübernahme zu festigen. 2 Sam 15,16 erzählt, dass David zehn Frauen zurücklässt, um das Haus zu bewachen (‫)לשׁמר הבית‬. Der zu Abschalom übergelaufene Ratgeber Davids Ahitofel greift diese Formulierung wieder auf und baut sie in seinen Ratschlag ein, wie der aufständische Abschalom seine Macht in Jerusalem stabilisieren kann. Er solle einen sexuellen Akt mit diesen Frauen vollziehen, damit ganz Israel davon höre und seine Nachfolger durch diese Beschämung des Vaters gestärkt würden (2 Sam 16,21). Abschalom befolgt diesen ersten Ratschlag Ahitofels. Sowohl der Ort des Geschehens (das Dach) als auch die Formulierung vor den Augen ganz 16 17

Willi-Plein, Frauen, 352. Vgl. Müllner, Gewalt, 119–142.

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Israels (‫ )לעיני כל־ישׂראל‬stellen Verbindungslinien zwischen 2 Sam 16,20–23 und 2 Sam 11–12 her. Das Dach ist jener Ort, von dem aus David Batseba beobachtet hatte (2 Sam 11,2). Und Natan hatte David angekündigt, dass Gott ihm dasselbe, was er getan hat, vor ganz Israel (‫ )נגד כל־ישׂראל‬antun würde (2 Sam 12,12). Das Zurücklassen der Frauen, um das Haus zu bewachen, ist unter militärischen Gesichtspunkten ganz unnütz. Im Gegenteil, in einer – anachronistisch formuliert – freudschen Fehlleistung eröffnet David durch das Zurücklassen der Frauen einen Ort der Verwundbarkeit eben des Hauses, das er zu schützen gedenkt. Die Frauen werden der Gefährdung geradezu ausgesetzt und werden als Spielball zwischen den männlichen Machthabern in ihrer physischen und sozialen Integrität verletzt. Sie verlieren ihren sozialen Status als Nebenfrauen des Königs und leben nach der Rückkehr Davids nach Jerusalem zeitlebens im Status der Witwenschaft (2 Sam 20,3). „The overt vulnerabilty of these women to the political machinations of both David and Absalom displays the magnitude of abusive lust for power that exists intrinsically [Hervorhebung I.M.] within a monarchy. Here again, the text continues the pattern of portraying female characters in order to reveal dramatically the high human cost of kingship.“ 18

Das Ziel des sexuellen Aktes ist, dass ganz Israel hört und sieht, dass Abschalom die sexuelle Rolle seines Vaters einnimmt und diesen damit verdrängt. Was aber bedeutet ein solches Handeln politisch? „Mit Sicherheit wird man auf der Basis der biblischen und der weiteren altorientalischen Quellenlage nicht von einem Ritual sprechen können, das die sexuelle Usurpation des ‚Harems‘ mit der Machtübernahme verbindet. Solche Vorstellungen, wie überhaupt die Rede von einem ‚Harem‘ an altorientalischen Höfen, bedienen westlich-orientalistische Klischees. Die Präsenz von Frauen an altorientalischen Höfen ist vielgestaltig; sie nehmen viele Funktionen wahr, nur ein Teil davon hat etwas mit Sexualität zu tun. Bei einem Machtwechsel sind alle zum Hof gehörigen Männer und Frauen betroffen, die Verfügungsgewalt wechselt. Im Übergang von Saul zu David etwa suchen mehrere Funktionsträger_innen eine neue Position – das Verhalten von Abner, auch in Bezug auf Sauls Nebenfrau Rizpa, das in 2 Sam 3 erzählt wird, ist dafür ebenso ein Beispiel wie Adonijas Bitte an Salomo, ihm Abischag zur Frau zu geben (1 Kön 2).“ 19

Abschaloms Handeln ist kein Ritual im Sinn eines eingeübten und iterativen Vorgangs, es gehört nicht zum Zeremoniell der Machtübernahme. Für ein solchermaßen etabliertes Verhalten wäre kein Ratschlag nötig, wie ihn Ahitofel erteilt. Abschaloms Tun ist ein für die Öffentlichkeit verstehbares Zeichen. Er vollzieht einen sexuellen Gewaltakt gegen die Frauen seines Vaters, um damit seinen Vater öffentlich zu beschämen und ein Signal politischer Macht zu set18 19

Westbrook, Daughters, 190. Müllner, Gendered Politics, 180f. Zur Kritik am Konzept ‚Harem‘ als unterschieden vom Hof (und gekennzeichnet durch Müßigkeit und Langeweile) siehe Solvang, Woman’s Place, 51–71; Svärd, Women, 109–120. Zu den unterschiedlichen Funktionen von Frauen im altorientalischen Palast siehe auch Melville, Royal Women.

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zen. Dass die Auseinandersetzung zwischen David und Abschalom auch auf dem Feld der Sexualität geführt wird, ist kein Zufall, sondern in der Gestalt der Dynastie selbst angelegt, in der geregelte sexuelle Beziehungen zur Bestandsgarantie gehören. Damit steht die Handlung Abschaloms in einer Reihe mit anderen sexuellen Handlungen, die als Zeichen für politische Macht gelesen werden können: Nachdem David eine Reihe von politisch opportunen Ehen eingegangen war, 20 nimmt er Batseba, so wie er die Krone des Ammoniterkönigs nimmt (‫ לקח‬1 Sam 11,4; 12,30). Das Verb ‫ לקח‬ist prominent sowohl in der Natansparabel als auch in der Natansprophetie in 2 Sam 12 vertreten (und es greift die königskritische Passage 1 Sam 8,10–18 auf). Abschalom schläft auf jenem Dach mit den Frauen seines Vaters, von dem aus dieser Batseba gesehen hatte. Adonija begehrt just jene Frau, Abischag von Schunem, mit der sein Vater nicht geschlafen hat, was Adonija das Leben kosten wird. Sexualität erweist sich in den Samuelbüchern als aufs engste verbunden mit politischer Macht. Gleichzeitig ist sie ein wesentliches Merkmal von Familie, sowohl in ihrer reproduktiven Qualität als auch – im durch das Inzesttabu formulierten – Ausschluss von Sexualität aus den engen Verwandtschaftsbeziehungen. Es ist davon auszugehen, dass auch Verwandtschaft keine Form des Seins, sondern eine Form des Handelns ist, also performativ hergestellt wird. 21 Der Ausschluss von Sexualität gehört neben anderen Handlungsformationen zu den Mitteln, Verwandtschaft herzustellen. Drei Söhne Davids verletzen das Inzesttabu: Abschalom und Adonija nähern sich den Frauen ihres Vaters; Amnon vergewaltigt seine Schwester. Der Bruch des Inzesttabus durch die Söhne Davids zeigt die Prekarität des Verwandtschaftskonstrukts. Was die königliche Herrschaft sichern soll, nämlich die Familie als intergenerationeller Stabilisierungsfaktor des Königtums, ist in sich brüchig.

6.

Brüchige Familien in den Samuelbüchern

Die Samuelbücher beginnen mit einem familieninternen Konflikt um Nachkommenschaft: Der Unfruchtbarkeit Hannahs wird in ihrer sozialen und in ihrer religiösen Dimension außergewöhnlich breiter narrativer Raum gegeben, zunächst in der Entfaltung des Problems, dann in der narrativen Lösung durch die Geburt ihres Sohnes Samuel und schließlich im Danklied der Hannah, das sie als Psalmensängerin an die Seite von David stellt. Die Lieder dieser beiden Protagonisten bilden die drei poetischen Säulen, auf denen die Erzählungen der Samuelbücher aufruhen: das Lied der Hannah in 1 Sam 2,1-10 die Klage Davids 20 21

Das analysiert bereits Ina Willi-Plein, Frauen, 1995. Vgl. Butler, Antigones Verlangen, 94.

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um Saul und Jonatan in 2 Sam 1,19-27 und Davids Danklied in 2 Sam 22. 22 Diese „inset hyms“ 23 haben mehrere Funktionen gemeinsam. Sie alle geben Einblick in die Gedanken- und Gefühlswelt einzelner Protagonist_innen, ein narratives Privileg, das Hannah mit David teilt. Außerdem sprechen sie die Adressat_innen der Samuelbücher direkt an 24 und beziehen diese auf andere Weise als Erzählungen in der dritten Person in das Geschehen ein. Schließlich öffnen zumindest die beiden Lieder am Anfang und am Ende – die Danklieder Hannahs und Davids – den Blick für die Dimension des göttlichen Handelns. Gemeinsam führen die beiden letzten Funktionen – die Identifikationslenkung der Adressat_innen und das theologische framing – dazu, dass diese Psalmen einen hermeneutischen Horizont bilden, vor dem die zentralen Themen der Samuelbücher in ein politisch-theologisches Licht gerückt werden. Der Fokus auf das Thema Familie geht mit der Hannah-Erzählung auf die erste in den Samuelbüchern präsente Familie politischer bzw. sakraler Führungsgestalten über. Eli wird als quasi-königliche Figur inszeniert. 25 Er und seine Söhne scheitern aber an der Aufgabe ebenso wie Samuel und dessen potentielle Nachfolger. In beiden Fällen gelingt die Übergabe des Amtes an die nächste Generation nicht, weil sowohl die Söhne Elis als auch diejenigen Samuels auf ihren eigenen Vorteil bedacht sind (1 Sam 2,12–36; 8,1–3) und in ihrem Handeln die Haltung jenes Despoten vorwegnehmen, der in 1 Sam 8,11–18 als Schreckensbild eines künftigen Königs gezeichnet wird. Nicht erst mit den beiden Königsfamilien Sauls und Davids, sondern schon in der erzählten Epoche vor der Königszeit steht die Familie mit ihren strukturellen Schwierigkeiten im Mittelpunkt und stimmt die Leserinnen und Leser auf das Thema der Dynastie ein. Sowohl die Unfruchtbarkeit und damit die verhinderte Übergabe als auch die Verfehlungen der Söhne und die missglückte Übergabe werden in diesen ersten Kapiteln der Samuelbücher erzählt. Damit klingen jene Themen an, die die ersten beiden Königsfamilien betreffen: Saul hat zwar Nachkommen, allerdings gibt es keinen Übergang in eine Dynastie – vom Intermezzo der Isch-Boschet-Regierung in 2 Sam 2–4 abgesehen. Im Gegenteil: Das Auslöschen der saulidischen Linie wird mehrfach betont (Michals Unfruchtbarkeit in 2 Sam 6, der Tod der Söhne und Rizpas Wache in 2 Sam 21), was eine beinahe unheimlich Präsenz der Sauliden im Zweiten Samuelbuch mit sich bringt. David ist zwar der positive Maßstab der Könige. Sowohl die Erzählungen um seine Nachfolge in den Samuelbüchern als auch die Beurteilungen der davidischen Könige in den Königsbüchern bleiben aber hinter diesem Vorbild zurück. Die Söhne greifen zwar nach der Macht, sind ihrer aber zum Großteil nicht würdig. Diese dynastiekritische Perspektive wird in den Samuelbüchern erzählerisch von Beginn bis zum Ende 22 23 24 25

Fokkelman, Desire, 18. Watts, Psalm. Außer den Gedichten geschieht das innerhalb der Samuelbücher nur in 1 Sam 2,12; 27,6; 30,6; 2 Sam 11,27; 17,14 und 24,1. Siehe den Beitrag von David Firth in diesem Band. Polzin, Samuel, 23f.

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entfaltet. Gleichzeitig aber wird das dynastische Denken narrativ etabliert, eine scheinbare Spannung, die die Auseinandersetzungen um diese Herrschaftsform, ihre Würdigung und Kritik, aber auch ihre theologischen Deutungspotentiale in nuce enthält. Die Samuelbücher gehören zu den klassischen Erzählwerken der hebräischen Bibel. Diese zeichnet aus, dass sie nicht nur narratives Material im engeren Sinn enthalten, sondern immer wieder auch poetische Einschübe. Diese dienen dazu, das Erzählte zu reflektieren, zu vertiefen und oft in einen theologischen Horizont zu stellen. Außerdem tragen sie wesentlich zur Figurenzeichnung der Erzählung bei, weil sie einen Einblick in die Gedanken- und Gefühlswelt der Protagonist_innen bieten. In den Samuelbüchern ist David an mehreren Stellen als Sänger von Liedern gezeichnet. Sowohl ihm als auch Hannah, der Mutter Samuels, wird ein Psalm in den Mund gelegt. Die Lieder stehen an strukturell bedeutsamen Stellen. Sie bilden einen Rahmen um die Samuelbücher als Ganzes (1 Sam 2, das Hannahlied und 2 Sam 22; 23,1–7, der Dankpsalm und die letzten Worte Davids). Wenn wir das Klagelied Davids berücksichtigen, das das zweite Samuelbuch eröffnet, dann können wir von drei poetischen Säulen der Samuelbücher sprechen, die eine wesentliche Funktion für die Architektur dieses Erzählwerks haben. 26

7.

Das Haus Davids und die Grenzen der Verwandtschaft

Die nachexilische Zeit braucht verschiedene Verarbeitungsstrategien für den katastrophalen Verlust des Königtums. Gleichzeitig gibt es sozialgeschichtlich eine Konzentration auf die davidische Familie als Bezugsrahmen judäischer Identität. Diese beiden Stränge verbinden sich zu einem Resonanzraum für die Familiengeschichten Davids, in dem ein Prozess der Demokratisierung der Figuren stattfindet. Diese werden zu narrativen Identifikationsangeboten für ganz Juda und geben damit im erzählten Raum einen Halt, den die gelebte Wirklichkeit so nicht bereit hält. Die Öffnung der königlichen Familie und der Person Davids für die Identifikation nachexilischer Leserinnen und Leser zeigt sich in den Bereichen der hebräischen Bibel in unterschiedlichen literarischen Formen. In der Historiographie ist es die Chronik, die einer Demokratisierung der Davidsdynastie Vorschub leistet, indem sie das Haus Davids mit der sozialen Grundstruktur des Vaterhauses verbindet.

26

Fokkelman, Desire.

294

Ilse Müllner „Insofern ist das ‹Davidshaus› nichts anderes als ein Sonderfall der oben charakterisierten chronistischen Rede vom ‫בית אבות‬. Wenn man von ‹Dynastie›» sprechen will, dann ist das chronistische Israel voll von solchen «‹demokratisierten›» Dynastien.“ 27 80F

Diese Öffnung des ‫ בית דוד‬für weitere Personengruppen als die unmittelbare, leibliche Verwandtschaft Davids ist bereits in den Samuelbüchern selbst spürbar. Mindestens zwei Stellen lassen sich identifizieren, in denen das Haus Davids nicht auf die Familie im engeren Sinn reduziert werden kann, aber auch noch nicht im judäischen Gemeinwesen aufgeht. Sowohl in 2 Sam 3,1 als auch in 2 Sam 15,16a ist mit dem Haus Davids jene Gruppe loyaler Davidanhänger_innen gemeint, die in den Auseinandersetzungen zunächst mit dem Haus Sauls (1 Sam 3,1), dann mit Abschalom (1 Sam 15,16) auf Davids Seite steht und ihn begleitet. 28 In der nachexilischen Zeit wird die davidische Linie als Hoffnungsgestalt bewahrt und gleichzeitig von der Konkretion auf die leiblichen Nachkommen Davids mindestens teilweise gelöst. Das geschieht in herausragender Weise mit Kyros, dem Perserkönig, der niemals als israelitischer Herrscher in Israel imaginiert, aber dennoch als messianischer Herrscher in der Linie Davids interpretiert wird. 81F

„Dynasty is, not surprisingly, a recurring issue in Yehudite kingship-discourse. With the Davidization of Cyrus, however, dynasty is maintained: Cyrus steps into the Davidic line, at least temporarily preserving the ‘foreverness’ of Davidic rule.“ 29

Die Psalmen, die David in den Mund gelegt werden, haben eine demokratisierende Wirkung. Lieder haben in der Leserlenkung eine besondere Funktion, weil sie den Raum bieten, sich als Lesende selbst in den Text einzuschreiben. Das „Ich“ des Psalms lädt syntaktisch zur Identifikation ein. Schon innerhalb der Erzählungen der Samuelbücher bieten die eingebetteten Psalmen Möglichkeiten, sich mit den Protagonist_innen weitergehend zu identifizieren als das in den Erzählungen in 3. Person der Fall ist. Dass auch König David als eine solche Identifikationsfigur gestaltet ist, muss als textpragmatische Strategie historisch reflektiert werden. Mit den Liedern im Mund Davids, die wahrscheinlich bereits vor ihrer Einbindung in die Samuelbücher ein literarisches Eigenleben geführt haben, ist der Grund gelegt für eine sukzessive Davidisierung der Psalmen, die auf besondere Weise in den 13 biographischen Überschriften des kanonischen Psalters zu greifen ist. 30 Eine Lektüre von den Überschriften her kann als Einladung verstanden werden, eigene Erfahrungen in der Stimme Davids zum Ausdruck zu bringen. Dabei ist von einer wechselseitigen Bewegung zwischen der Figur und den Texten auszugehen. Die Psalmen werden David zugeschrieben,

27 28 29 30

Willi, Chronik, 402f. Vgl. Leonard-Fleckman, House of David, 110–115. Wilson, Yahweh’s Anointed, 350. Vgl. Hossfeld / Zenger, Überlegungen.

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sein Handlungsspielraum damit erweitert 31 und sein Innenleben für die Leserinnen und Leser zugänglich gemacht und in der Form des Ich-Gebets als Identifikationsraum geöffnet. 32 Die Psalmen und ihre Verbindung mit David zeigen, dass die Figuren in der Perserzeit und der hellenistischen Epoche ein Eigenleben entwickeln. Sie werden um Handlungsfelder ebenso wie um die Zuschreibung von Texten angereichert, wie etwa Davids Verbindung mit liturgischer Kompetenz in den Chronikbüchern. Diese narrative Anreicherung von Figuren trägt maßgeblich zur Traditionsbildung bei, die Figuren sind Adhäsionsflächen für die Entwicklung des biblischen Israel. Das Verhältnis zwischen Figuren und Texten ist komplex und nicht in die eine oder andere Richtung aufzulösen. Mit Sicherheit aber wird man dem den Figuren im Verhältnis zum Text ebenso größeres Gewicht beimessen müssen wie man gelernt hat, mündliche und schriftliche Prozesse verwoben und Textualität nicht als Ablösung der Mündlichkeit durch die Schriftlichkeit zu lesen. 33 Sowohl mit der Davidsgestalt und den mit ihr verbundenen traditionsgeschichtlichen Entwicklungen als auch mit dem Haus Davids gelingt es der biblischen Literatur, die davidische Linie als theologischen Fluchtpunkt zu etablieren, ohne sie zur conditio sine qua non der Existenz des Gemeinwesens zu machen. Das geschieht durch mehrere literarische Strategien, die teilweise in den Samuelbüchern verschmelzen und sowohl literargeschichtlich diachron als Hinweise auf entstehungsgeschichtliche Prozesse gelesen als auch historisch synchron im Sinn einer Gleichzeitigkeit unterschiedlicher Konzepte interpretiert werden können: – die ambivalente Darstellung der Dynastie als Herrschaftsform – die Öffnung der Figur des Königs für die Identifikation der Psalmenbeter_innen – die Öffnung des Begriffs Haus Davids und der davidischen Linie über die leiblichen Verwandtschaftsverhältnisse hinaus Alle drei Strategien sind in den Samuelbüchern bereits präsent und werden in der weiteren historiographischen, der prophetischen Literatur ebenso wie in den Psalmen ausgebaut und weiterentwickelt. So wird das Konzept der Dynastie ebenso wie die Figur Davids für weitere Lektürekontexte geöffnet und auch in gänzlich anderen historischen Zusammenhängen politisch-theologisch fruchtbar gemacht. Damit nehmen die Samuelbücher gemeinsam mit anderen biblischen Schriften, in denen David und seine Dynastie eine Rolle spielen, ihre je eigenen Funktionen in der Co-Konstruktion gesellschaftlicher Macht- und Herrschaftsverhältnisse ein. Der theologische Fokus und die hier dargestellten durchaus brüchigen Entwürfe dynastischer Herrschaft legen es nahe, Konzepte 31 32 33

Vgl. Mroczek, Imagination, 58–85. Vgl. Müllner, Gottesdeuter. Vgl. insbesondere Carr, Writing.

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von Herrschaft immer aufs Neue zu dekonstruieren, ohne sie aber einfach zu verabschieden. Diese Bewegung kann – auch für gegenwärtige Lesende – ein Modell von Herrschaftskritik sein, das imstande ist, im Sinn einer kritischen politischen Theologie auf jeweils aktuelle Verhältnisse zu regieren.

Literatur Buber, Martin: Weisheit und Tat der Frauen, in: Ders.: Kampf um Israel. Reden und Schriften (19211932), Berlin 1933, 107–114. Butler, Judith: Antigones Verlangen. Verwandtschaft zwischen Leben und Tod (Erbschaft unserer Zeit 11), Frankfurt am Main 42013. Carr, David M.: Writing on the Tablet of the Heart. Origins of Scripture and Literature, Oxford 2005. Fischer, Irmtraud: Die Erzeltern Israels. Feministisch-theologische Studien zu Genesis 12-36 (BZAW, 222), Berlin / New York 1994. ________. Menschheitsfamilie – Erzelternfamilie - Königsfamilie. Familien als Protagonistinnen von Welt erzeugenden Erzählungen, in: BiKi 4 (2015), 190–197. Fokkelman, Jan P.: Desire Divine. Poets – Pillars – Pivots, in: Bodner, Keith / Johnson, Benjamin J. M. (Hg.): Characters and Characterization in the Book of Samuel, Bloomsbury 2020, 14–24. Halbertal, Mosheh / Holmes, Stephen: The Beginning of Politics. Power in the Biblical Book of Samuel. Princeton u. a. 2017. Häusl, Maria: Frauen am Königshof – ihre politische, wirtschaftliche und religiöse Bedeutung im Zeugnis der Vorderen Prophetie, in: Fischer, Irmtraud / Claassens, Juliana (Hg.): Prophetie. Die Bibel und die Frauen. Eine exegetisch-kulturgeschichtliche Enzyklopädie 1.2., Stuttgart 2019, 190–208. Hossfeld, Frank-Lothar / Zenger, Erich: Überlegungen zur Davidisierung des Psalters, in: Dahmen, Ulrich und Schnocks, Johannes (Hg.): Juda und Jerusalem in der Seleukidenzeit. Herrschaft – Widerstand – Identität. Festschrift für Heinz-Josef Fabry, Göttingen 2010, 79–90. Janowski, Bernd: Anerkennung und Gegenseitigkeit Zum konstellativen Personbegriff des Alten Testaments, in: Ders. / Liess, Kathrin (Hg.): Der Mensch im alten Israel. Neue Forschungen zur alttestamentlichen Anthropologie (Herders biblische Studien 59), Freiburg u.a. 2009, 181–211. Kipfer, Sara: Der bedrohte David. Eine exegetische und rezeptionsgeschichtliche Studie zu 1Sam 16 – 1Kön 2 (Studies of the Bible and Its Reception 3), Berlin / Boston 2015. ________. David – »Individualität« einer literarischen Figur in 1Sam 16 – 1Kön 2, in: van Oorschot, Jürgen / Wagner, Andreas (Hg.): Individualität und Selbstreflexion in den Literaturen des Alten Testaments (Veröffentlichungen der Wissenschaftlichen Gesellschaft für Theologie 48), Leipzig 2017, 149–181. Leonard-Fleckman, Mahri: The House of David. Between Political Formation and Literary Revision, Minneapolis 2016. Melville, Sarah C.: Royal Women and the Exercise of Power in the Ancient Near East, in: Snell, Daniel C. (Hg.): A Companion to the Ancient Near East, Malden, Mass 2005, 219–228. Mroczek, Eva: The Literary Imagination in Jewish Antiquity, Oxford 2017. Müller, Reinhard: Herrschaftslegitimation in den Königtümern Israel und Juda. Eine Spurensuche im Alten Testament, in: Christoph Levin / Ders. (Hg.): Herrschaftslegitimation in vorderorientalischen Reichen der Eisenzeit (Orientalische Religionen in der Antike 21), Tübingen 2017, 189– 230. Müllner, Ilse: Gewalt im Hause Davids. Die Erzählung von Tamar und Amnon (2 Sam 13,11–22) (Herders biblische Studien, 13), Freiburg u. a. 1997. ________. Gottesdeuter und Musiktherapeut. David und die Psalmen, in: WUB 4 (2016), 34-39. ________. Die Samuelbücher als Werk Politischer Theologie, in: Willmes, Bernd / Müller, Christoph Gregor (Hg.): Thesaurus in vasis fictilibus »Schatz in zerbrechlichen Gefäßen« (2 Kor 4,7). FS Bischof Heinz-Josef Algermissen, Freiburg u.a. 2018, 279–297.

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________. Gendered Politics. Dynastische Rollen von Frauen in den Erzählungen von Saul, David und Salomo, in: Fischer, Irmtraud / Claassens, Juliana (Hg.): Prophetie. Die Bibel und die Frauen. Eine exegetisch-kulturgeschichtliche Enzyklopädie 1.2., Stuttgart 2019, 161–189. Naumann, Thomas: Schuld- und Beschämungsdiskurse im Auftritt des Propheten Natan (2Sam 12), in: Grund-Wittenberg, Alexandra / Poser, Ruth (Hg.): Die verborgene Macht der Scham. Ehre, Scham und Schuld im alten Israel, in seinem Umfeld und in der gegenwärtigen Lebenswelt (Biblisch-Theologische Studien 173), Göttingen u.a. 2018, 84–111. Polzin, Robert: Samuel and the Deuteronomist. 1 Samuel, Bloomington 1993. Solvang, Elna K.: A Woman’s Place is in the House. Royal Women of Judah and their Involvement in the House of David (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 349), London 2003. Svärd, Saana: Women and Power in Neo-Assyrian Palaces (Publications of the Foundation for Finnish Assyriological Research 11), Helsinki 2015. Watts, James W.: Psalm and Story. Inset Hymns in Hebrew Narrative (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 139), Sheffield 1992. Westbrook, April D.: “And He Will Take Your Daughters....”. Woman Story in the Ethical Evaluation of Monarchy in the David Narrative (Library of Hebrew Bible Old Testament Studies 610), London 2015. Willi, Thomas: Gibt es in der Chronik eine «Dynastie Davids»? Ein Beitrag zur Semantik von ‫בית‬, in: Luchsinger, Jürg (Hg.): „… der seine Lust hat am Wort des Herrn!“. Festschrift für Ernst Jenni zum 80. Geburtstag (Alter Orient und Altes Testament 336), Münster 2007, 393–404. Willi-Plein, Ina: Frauen um David. Beobachtungen zur Davidshausgeschichte, in: Weippert, Manfred / Timm, Stefan (Hg.): Meilenstein. Festschrift für Herbert Donner (Ägypten und Altes Testament 30), Wiesbaden 1995, 349–361. Wilson, Ian Douglas: Yahweh’s Anointed: Cyrus, Deuteronomy’s Law of the King, and Yehudite Identity, in: Silverman, Jason M. / Waerzeggers, Caroline (Hg.): Political Memory in and after the Persian Empire (Ancient Near East Monographs 13), Atlanta 2015, 325–361.

Dynastiekritische Vorstellungen und das Königtum. Ein Blick auf die Samuelbücher Johannes Klein

Summary On a synchronic level, reading the Saul-David-Salomon narrative (1 Sam 1 – 1 Kings 12) gives the impression of an anti-dynastic tendency. First it is a priestly (Eli) and then a magistrate family (Samuel), who are denied the dynastic structure for ethical reasons. King Saul behaves foolishly and therefore cannot consolidate his kingship. David is promised a consolidated kingdom, but then his decline begins. Similarly, Solomon fails at the end of his reign and will not be able to prevent the division of the kingdom after his death. In short: the fathers decay in old age and the sons do not achieve the charisma of the fathers. Therefore, obviously, each succession is dealt with individually, and others brought to power, if necessary. The oldest tales dealing with this problem are those about the king’s children Michal and Jonathan as well as the army commander Abner and other Benjaminites, such as Merib-Baal, Shimi, Sheba or Rizpa (written in the middle of the 8th century). They are not uniform, but they all bear witness to the idea that a dynastic transmission of kingship is not self-evident, but instead prove that kingship is good, and must be blessed by Yhwh and confirmed by negotiations. Behind this stands a Benjaminite demand for influence in the kingdom of Judah. The narrative relates that Jonathan renounced the kingdom in favor of David, but that there was an agreement between the two that Jonathan would become second in the state, and that after Jonathan died in battle, Abner would almost became second, had he not been killed by Joab. The author of the Saul-David-Solomon narrative (late 8th / early 7th century) has taken these materials and expanded them, along with other narratives, into a story about the early days of kingship. Although the kingship is seen positively here, the author reveals that the kings are wanted by God at the beginning of their activity and begin very well, but towards the end of their reign they always founder. He also compares the first two rulers with each other, so that the listeners and readers can recognize that in spite of all ambivalences David, who was able to consolidate his kingship, i.e. pass it on to his son, outdoes Saul, who did not succeed in this, in both the positive and the negative. Dtr (6th century) has left his mark on these stories rarely, but all the more succinctly, with his decidedly anti-monarchic attitude. He did not draw the same conclusion from the stories of the declines of the respective rulers as did his predecessors, who held that changes are necessary. Instead he considered the kingship alone – but not the priesthood and judgeship – responsible for the disaster. Auf synchroner Ebene ergibt sich beim Lesen der Saul-David-Salomo-Erzählung (1 Sam 1 – 1 Kön 12) der Eindruck einer antidynastischen Tendenz. Zunächst ist es eine Priester- (Eli) und danach eine Richterfamilie (Samuel), der jeweils der Dynastieaufbau aus ethischen Gründen verwehrt wird. König Saul verhält sich töricht und kann deshalb sein Königtum nicht konsolidieren. David wird zwar ein konsolidiertes Königtum verheißen, aber danach beginnt sein Verfall. Salomo scheitert am Ende seiner Amtszeit ebenfalls und kann die Teilung des Reiches nach seinem Tod nicht aufhalten. Kurz zusammengefasst: Die Väter verlieren im Alter ihre Macht, und die Söhne reichen nicht an das Charisma der Väter heran. Deshalb ist es nur einleuchtend, wenn die Nachfolge jeweils verhandelt wird und gegebenenfalls andere an die Macht kommen.

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Die ältesten Erzählungen, die sich mit dieser Problematik beschäftigen, sind die Erzählungen über die Königskinder Michal und Jonatan sowie über den Heerführer Abner und andere Benjaminiten wie Merib-Baal, Schimi, Scheba oder Rizpa (verschriftlicht Mitte 8. Jh.). Sie sind nicht einheitlich, zeugen aber alle von dem Gedanken, dass sich eine dynastische Weitergabe des Königtums nicht von selbst versteht, sondern sich das Königtum als gut erweisen, von Jhwh abgesegnet und durch Verhandlungen bekräftigt werden muss. Dahinter steht eine benjaminitische Forderung nach Einfluss im Königreich Juda. Man erzählte, dass Jonatan zugunsten von David auf das Königtum verzichtet hatte, es aber eine Abmachung zwischen den beiden gab, dass Jonatan zweiter Mann im Staat wird, und dass, nachdem Jonatan auf der Schlacht gestorben war, Abner fast Zweiter geworden wäre, hätte ihn Joab nicht ermordet. Der Verfasser der Saul-David-Salomo-Erzählung (Ende 8./Anfang 7.Jh.) hat diese Stoffe aufgenommen und neben anderen Erzählungen zu einer Geschichte über die frühe Königszeit erweitert. Das Königtum wird hier zwar positiv gesehen, der Verfasser zeigt jedoch auf, dass die Könige am Anfang ihrer Wirksamkeit von Gott gewollt sind und sehr gut beginnen, gegen Ende ihrer Herrschaft jedoch immer scheitern. Auch vergleicht er die ersten beiden Herrscher miteinander, so dass die Hörenden und Lesenden erkennen können, dass trotz aller Ambivalenzen David, der sein Königtum konsolidieren, d.h. an seinen Sohn weitergeben konnte, Saul, dem dies nicht gelang, im Positiven über- und im Negativen untertrifft. Dtr (6. Jh.) drückte diesen Erzählungen seinen Stempel zwar selten, aber umso prägnanter mit seiner dezidiert antimonarchischen Haltung auf. Er zog aus den Erzählungen vom Verfall der jeweiligen Herrscher nicht denselben Schluss wie seine Vorgänger, die Herrschaftswechsel für nötig hielten, sondern sah das Königtum an sich – aber nicht das Priester- und Richtertum – als für das Desaster verantwortlich an.

1.

Dynastie- versus Monarchiekritik

Im 8. Kapitel des 1. Samuelbuches versammeln sich die Ältesten von Israel und kommen zu Samuel mit der Bitte, einen König einzusetzen (V. 4f.). Der Gedanke des Königtums scheint für sie die Lösung zu sein, der Ausweg aus dem Machtvakuum, das Samuel durch sein Altern hinterlässt. Die von ihnen nicht begehrte Alternative einer dynastischen Weitergabe der Führung Israels an seine Söhne versuchen die Ältesten Samuel auszureden mit dem Hinweis, dass die Söhne nicht auf seinen Wegen wandeln (V. 5). Diesem Urteil der Ältesten stimmt der Erzähler zu, der schon in der Einleitung davon berichtet hatte, dass Joel und Abija von Samuel selbst als Richter in Beerscheba eingesetzt worden waren und ihren eigenen Vorteil suchten, Geschenke annahmen und das Recht beugten (V. 3). So erscheint die Forderung der Ältesten vor der Erzählerrede als gerechtfertigt. Blickt man zurück auf den Vorgänger Samuels, dann ergibt sich – bei synchroner Lektüre – ein ähnliches, vielleicht noch drastischeres Bild. Auch Eli war eine Respektsperson gewesen, der Israel als Führungspersönlichkeit zusammengehalten hatte. Als er alt wurde, machten seine Söhne jedoch, was sie wollten, gierten nach Opferfleisch und schliefen mit den Frauen, die zum Tempel kamen (1 Sam 2,12–17), sodass der einzige Ausweg aus der Krise die göttliche Strafe zu sein schien, die das Haus Eli vernichtete (1 Sam 2,22–27; 3,1–11).

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Überschaut man diese Szenenfolge, dann muten sie wie eine Warnung vor der Bildung von Priester- und Richterdynastien an, da jeweils die Väter zwar hervorragende Persönlichkeiten waren, die Söhne jedoch widerliche Taugenichtse. Diese klare antidynastische Tendenz gegen Priester- und Richterfolgen wird nun im 8. Kapitel merkwürdigerweise mit der Forderung nach dem Königtum verbunden, das im Alten Orient immer wieder zu Dynastien führte und auch in Palästina 1 in der Regel dynastisch war. Was wäre daraus zu folgern? Dass eine Forderung nach antidynastischem Herrschertum vorliegt? Das scheint die einzig mögliche Interpretation zu sein. 2 Zumindest auf synchroner Ebene, wohl aber auch auf einer der Vorstufen des Textes, wie noch zu zeigen sein wird. Der Erzähler bemerkt, dass die Forderung nach einem König Samuel gar nicht gefällt, deutet sogar an, dass dieses Missfallen an dem Wunsch der Ältesten liegt, dass der König richten soll (V. 6). Das Richten war ja Samuels eigene Kompetenz und die hatte er an seine Söhne weitergegeben! Samuel scheint also zu einem Nein zu neigen, spricht dieses jedoch nicht aus, sondern betet zu Jhwh und erhält von ihm die Anweisung, dem Volk nach seinem Willen zu tun. Die Begründung „sie haben nicht dich, sondern mich verworfen“ führt nicht dazu, dass Jhwh vom Königtum abrät, sondern scheint eher den Sinn zu haben, den Druck von Samuel zu nehmen und ihn zum Handeln zu motivieren, wie es die Ältesten fordern. Möglicherweise ist der Ratschlag Jhwhs ambivalent in dem Sinn, dass er suggeriert, dem Willen des Volkes nachzugehen, aber nicht ohne Bedenken, 3 sinngemäß etwa: „Gib ihnen einen König, aber warne sie zuvor!“ Möglicherweise meint Jhwh aber auch: „Ich kann dich verstehen, Samuel, dass es dir nicht leicht fällt, einem König alle deine Kompetenzen zu übergeben, tu dem Volk jedoch nach seinem Willen!“ Ob der Ratschlag Jhwhs nun eindeutig für das Königtum ist oder auch einige Ambivalenzen enthält, wahrscheinlich ist, dass die klare antimonarchische Tendenz in 1 Sam 8, die von nicht wenigen Forschern entdeckt worden ist, erst ein Produkt deuteronomistischer Theologie ist. 4 Die Ambivalenz 5 sowie die promo1 2

3 4 5

Die palästinischen Stadtstaaten des 2. Jt.s unterstanden einem „König mit dynastischer Erbfolge“ (Müllner, Königtum, 302). Alternativ könnte man allenfalls in Erwägung ziehen, dass die Autoren die Meinung vertreten haben, dass wenn sich schon die Gefahr dynastischer Herrschaft aufdrängt, dann dynastisches Königtum dem dynastischen Priestertum oder dem dynastischen Richtertum unbedingt vorzuziehen sei. Eine solche Interpretation würde zwar gewissen Ambivalenzen des Endtextes entsprechen, logisch würde sie sich jedoch aus dem Erzählten nicht ergeben. Aus der Erzählung geht nur hervor, dass die Söhne guter Herrscher oft ungeeignet für die Herrschaft sind, und das bezieht sich auf Priester und Richter genauso wie später auf Könige. So Dietrich, Samuel 1, 348. Müller, Königtum und Gottesherrschaft, 146, löst das Pro und Kontra diachron auf. Nach Dietrich, Samuel 1, 352, handelt es sich um den Spätdeuteronomisten DtrN, von dem 1 Sam 8,7–9a.18 stammt. Nach Dietrich, Samuel 1, 352, stammt sie von DtrH und schlägt sich in 1 Sam 8,1–6.9b.19–22 nieder.

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narchische und gleichzeitig antidynastische Forderung 6 dürfte auf der Ebene der Komposition einer Geschichte über die frühe Königszeit (Saul-David-SalomoErzählung) entstanden sein und führt dazu, die ältere Erzählung von der Salbung Sauls (1 Sam 9,1–10,16) einzuleiten, an deren Ende eine weitere Erzählung gesetzt wird, die von einer Königswahl handelt (1 Sam 10,17–27). Auch diese Erzählung ist ursprünglich königsfreundlich, auch wenn sie wiederum dtr Einträge (V. 18–19) 7 enthält, die antimonarchisch sind. Der Gedanke, dass der König durch Los ermittelt wird, hat mit einer Dynastiegründung nichts zu tun, und ist durch die Vorstellung, dass der jeweilige König von Gott erwählt und nicht aufgrund seiner Geburt zum König wird, im Grunde genommen antidynastisch. Eine denkwürdige Anmerkung findet sich noch in 1 Sam 11,12–14. Am Ende des Ammoniterkrieges, in dem Saul zum ersten Mal gezeigt hat, was er militärisch vermag, erneuert Samuel das Königtum. Wahrscheinlich ist dies eine redaktionelle Bemerkung, die der Verfasser der Saul–David–Salomo–Erzählung eingebracht hat, um die unterschiedlichen Geschichten über die Königseinsetzung Sauls, die er vorliegen hatte, miteinander zu harmonisieren. 8 Jedoch zeigt sie noch mehr als die bisherigen antidynastischen Erwägungen, dass der Übergang des Königtums vom Vater auf den Sohn nicht selbstverständlich ist. Nicht einmal die Beibehaltung des Königtums gilt bedingungslos, sondern hängt vom Propheten ab. Ein beständiges Königtum müsste nämlich, selbst wenn es sich nicht vererbt, keinesfalls erneuert werden. Nach der Erneuerung ist sogar noch eine Verwerfung möglich. 1 Sam 13,8– 15 erweist sich als redaktionell eingebracht. Speziell in V 13f. findet sich wieder Dtr mit seinen antimonarchischen Bemerkungen. Interessanterweise gibt es aber eine sprachliche Verbindung zwischen V. 13f. und dem vordeuteronomistischen Teil von 2 Sam 7, nämlich 2 Sam 7,3.12, sodass man annehmen kann, dass ein Grundstock – nach dem Abschälen der Aussagen über die Gebotsübertretung – von 1 Sam 13,13f. vordeuteronomistisch ist. 9 Hier wird mit Blick auf David (2 Sam 7,3.13) ausgesagt, dass Saul sein Königtum hätte konsolidieren können, wenn er nicht einen großen Fehler begangen hätte. David wird die Konsolidierung seines Königtums dann tatsächlich vornehmen können. Wir fassen zusammen: Auf der Ebene der vordtr Erzählung wird ein vielfacher Berufungsprozess eines Königs suggeriert: Salbung durch den Propheten, Auslosung vor dem Volk, Erneuerung des Königtums, Konsolidierung des Königtums. Unter letzterem, der Konsolidierung des Königtums, ist wohl die spätere 6

7 8 9

Müller, Königtum und Gottesherrschaft, 120–130, rechnet mit einem Grundbestand in V. 1.3– 5.22b, in dem Jhwh dem Königsbegehren kritiklos zustimmt, setzt das gesamte Kapitel aber mit Auseinandersetzungen in Zusammenhang, „die ihren historischen Ort am ehesten im frühperserzeitlichen Jehud gehabt haben“ (Müller, Königtum und Gottesherrschaft, 146). Dietrich, Samuel 1, 352, rechnet mit vordtr Material in 1 Sam 8,1a.2.11–17. Dietrich, Samuel 1, 457, blickt hierbei auf einen Forschungskonsens zurück. Nach Dietrich, Samuel 1, 495f., handelt es sich um den Samuel-Saul-Erzähler. Nach Klein, David versus Saul, gehört der Grundstock zu Vv, gleichzusetzen hier mit dem Verfasser der Saul-David-Salomo-Erzählung.

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Weitergabe des Königsamtes an den Königssohn gemeint. Denn Saul bleibt auch nach seiner Verwerfung, die das Ende der Konsolidierungsmöglichkeit bedeutet, noch bis an sein Lebensende im Amt. Er konnte also sein Königtum zwar nicht konsolidieren, dennoch aber zeitlebens weiterführen. Die zahlreichen Bedingungen, die an den Erwerb, die Beibehaltung und die Konsolidierung des Königtums gestellt werden, sprechen insgesamt mit hoher Intensität dagegen, das Königtum dynastisch zu begreifen. Die anstatt der Konsolidierung eintretende Verwerfung ist auch ein mehrgliedriger Prozess. Nach der grundsätzlichen Mitteilung in 1 Sam 13 gibt es noch eine zweite Verwerfung in 1 Sam 15 und eine dritte in 1 Sam 28. Sowohl in 15 als auch in 28 gibt es kurze Einschübe von Dtr, 10 die an klaren Formulierungen erkennbar sind. Der Rest der beiden Erzählungen ist jedoch vordtr und von dem Gedanken geprägt, dass Verwerfung und Erwählung mit allen daraus resultierenden Konsequenzen auf Jhwh zurückgehen. An dieser Stelle müssen nicht viele Argumente für die antidynastische Tendenz dieser Erzählungen eingebracht werden: Verwerfungen tragen solche von vornherein in sich. Antimonarchisch sind diese Stellen zumindest in ihrem Grundbestand aber nicht, denn immer wieder wird auf den Nachfolger hingewiesen, der besser als Saul ist, und das bedeutet ja, dass es zum nicht mehr zeitgemäßen König eine gute Alternative gibt: den Nachfolger, der besser ist. Dass das Königtum abgeschafft werden sollte, steht auf vordtr Ebene nicht zur Diskussion. Obwohl der alte, verworfene König noch im Amt ist und noch eine Weile im Amt bleibt, wird der neue bereits gesalbt. Interessanterweise findet sich in 1 Sam 16 eine ähnliche Ausgangsposition wie in 1 Sam 8. Samuel wird – anscheinend wieder gegen seinen Willen, denn er hängt noch an Saul – von Jhwh gedrängt, den nächsten Mann zum König zu salben (1 Sam 16,1). Im Dialog mit Jhwh erweist sich dann auch, dass Samuel kein gutes Gespür für die Wahl des Königs hat (V. 6f.). Er erfült dann doch – wie schon bei der letzten Königswahl – den Willen Jhwhs. Die Salbung des neuen Königs ist eindeutig antidynastisch, da sie zur Verhinderung der Dynastiebildung des Vorgängerkönigs entscheidend beiträgt. Die Erzählung ist dem neuen König gegenüber grundsätzlich positiv eingestellt, auch wenn sie die Ambivalenz nicht ganz unterdrücken kann: „Sieh nicht auf die Augen bzw. das Äußere!“, sagt Jhwh zu Samuel (V. 7) und meint damit vordergründig, dass der große Eliab nicht auserwählt ist. Später wird David auserwählt, der als „bräunlich, mit schönen Augen und von schönem Aussehen“ charakterisiert wird (V. 12). Dass diese Augen verführen können, wird sich zeigen, als David Batseba vom Dach des Königspalastes sehen und gleich zu sich holen wird (1 Sam 11,2). Diese Ambivalenz markiert also schon hier den Hinweis auf die Verfallsmöglichkeit des gerade erwählten Königs. 10

Vgl. dazu betreffend 1 Sam 15 Dietrich, Samuel 2, 147–150, betreffend 1 Sam 28 Dietrich, Samuel 3, 52f.

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Nach dem Tod Sauls und einiger seiner Söhne erhebt der Heerführer Abner nach dynastischem Prinzip den überlebenden Königssohn Eschbaal zum König (2 Sam 2,8), verhandelt aber bald danach mit David (2 Sam 3,12–21). Offensichtlich schwebte Abner der Gedanke vor, dass er unter dem neuen König David Heerführer über Israel bleiben kann. 11 Dies ist ein klares Zeichen, dass der dynastische Gedanke nicht verfestigt war. Und dann kommt es, wie es kommen muss: der von Jhwh erwählte und vom Volk gesalbte David wird König und erhält sogar im Gegensatz zu Saul (1 Sam 13,13f.) die Verheißung der Konsolidierung seines Königtums (2 Sam 7,3.12f.), d.h. dass er das Königtum an seinen Sohn wird weitergeben können. Dies ist offenbar immer noch nicht selbstverständlich, sonst hätte es keiner Verheißung in diesem Sinne bedurft. Auch werden bei weitem nicht alle weiteren Stimmen des zweiten Samuelbuches mit dem dynastischen Gedanken, der sich im Anschluss in Juda durchsetzen wird, einverstanden sein. Den Söhnen Davids wird es nicht viel besser gehen als den Söhnen Elis, sie werden der Reihe nach Schandtaten begehen und so auf ganz praktische Weise vor Augen führen, dass Königssöhne in der Regel ungeeignet für das Königtum sind. 12 Der Abschalomaufstand (2 Sam 15–19) belegt ebenfalls antidynastisches Gedankengut. Ginge man von der Selbstverständlichkeit der Dynastiebildung aus, dann erschließt sich schon die Sinnhaftigkeit einer Rebellion durch Abschalom, der ja nach dem Tod Amnons der reguläre Thronfolger wäre, so gut wie nicht. Abschalom hätte nur warten müssen, bis seine Zeit kommt. Abschalom ist offensichtlich nicht davon ausgegangen, dass er wie von selbst das Königtum erbt. Die Schilderung des Aufstands ist ambivalent. Lesende haben durchaus die Möglichkeit, sich mit dem Rebellen Abschalom zu identifiziern, auch wenn auf der anderen Seite Stimmen laut werden, die die Lesenden auf die Seite Davids ziehen. Durch die Tatsache des Aufstands wird deutlich, dass der Königssohn Anspruch auf den Thron erheben kann, gleichzeitig aber auch, dass dieser Anspruch erkämpft werden muss. Wenn später in der Person Salomos tatsächlich ein Sohn Davids auf den Thron kommt (1 Kön 2), dann ist das zumindest nicht nur die Folge eines dynastischen Prinzips, sondern Folge der Verheißung der Konsolidierung in 2 Sam 7, des Wirkens des Propheten Natan und der Tatsache, dass Salomo von Jhwh geliebt wird – Jhwh nennt ihn Jedidja (2 Sam 12,25). Die Hintergründe der Königseinsetzung Salomos sind also auch in diesem Fall andere als dynastische. Die Lesenden des 1. Königebuches erfahren dann auch, dass über Salomo bei weitem nicht nur Positives erzählt wird: Er liebt viele ausländische Frauen, die ihn zur Fremdgötterei verleiten (1 Kön 11,1–13). Am Ende wird er auch nur einen Bruchteil seines Königtums an seinen Sohn weitergeben 11 12

Dietrich, Samuel 3, 374, spricht davon, dass Abner einen hohen Posten anstrebt. Bei dieser Schilderung erscheint Abner durchaus ambivalent (Dietrich, Samuel 3, 374f). Amnon wird Tamar vergewaltigen und dafür von Abschalom umgebracht werden (2 Sam 13), Abschalom wird einen Aufstand gegen seinen Vater David beginnen und am Ende von den Waffenträgern Joabs erschlagen werden (19,15).

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können (1 Kön 12). Das heißt, dass sein Königtum zwar fest in seinen Händen war (1 Kön 2,46), sich aber nicht recht konsolidieren konnte im Sinn einer Weitergabe an seinen Sohn. In keiner dieser Erzählungen (außer den dtr Zufügungen) war der Gedanke grundlegend, dass das Königtum an sich schlecht ist. Im Gegenteil: Die Erzählungen scheinen das Königtum ab dem Moment, in dem es eingeführt wird, als etwas Selbstverständliches anzusehen. Aber alle Erzählungen berichten von Problemen, die mit der Weitergabe an die Söhne bestehen, auch diejenigen, die nicht von Königen, sondern von Priestern und Richtern sprechen. In diesem Sinne sind sie alle dynastiekritisch, nicht aber monarchiekritisch. Laufen die Erzählungen also auf ein Konzept hinaus, Königtum antidynastisch zu begreifen?

2.

Verhandlung des nichtdynastischen Königtums

Wir haben gesehen, dass an einem Punkt die Idee einer Absprache dazu führte, vom Dynastiegedanken abzuweichen. Abner wollte mit David verhandeln, um dessen Königtum auch über Israel anzuerkennen, bzw. dazu beitragen, dass das Königtum Sauls zu David übergeht. Dieser Gedanke wird in den Erzählungen von Michal, Jonatan und Abner breit entfaltet. Die Königstochter Michal heiratet David und hilft ihm zu entkommen, als er für Saul und dessen Königtum zu gefährlich wird (1 Sam 19,8–17). Jonatan legt gute Worte für David bei Saul ein (1 Sam 19,1–7), schließt mit ihm einen Bund, hilft ihm, als dies nichts mehr nützt, zu fliehen (1 Sam 20) und sucht ihn dann auf, um ihm Mut zu machen. Bei einer Begegnung auf einem Tafelberg wird Klartext gesprochen: Jonatan vermacht David das Königtum, dafür soll Jonatan Zweiter im Staat sein dürfen (1 Sam 23,14–18). Später formuliert Saul die Bitte, dass David nach seiner Machtübernahme seine Nachkommen nicht ausrottet, wie das im Alten Orient bei Herrscherwechseln nicht selten der Fall war, und fordert ihn auf, dies zu beschwören (1 Sam 24,22). Sowohl die Hilfe Michals (1 Sam 19,11–17) als auch der Bund zwischen Jonatan und David (1 Sam 20) sowie die Verhandlungen zwischen Abner und David (2 Sam 3) beweisen, dass es durchaus denkbar war, den Nachfolgekönig über Verhandlungen zu bestimmen und sich, der Familie oder seinem Stamm die Teilhabe an der Macht zu sichern. In den Erzählungen über David im 2. Samuelbuch wird auch die Möglichkeit eröffnet, dass der an die Macht gekommene König und seine Untergebenen sich solchen Erwartungen entziehen. Abner und Amasa werden von Joab ermordet, und David erlaubt den Gibeonitern, die Nachkommen Sauls zu ermorden (2 Sam 21). Aber grundsätzlich scheint die Möglichkeit zu bestehen, die Weitergabe des Königtums zu verhandeln. Auf der Ebene der Komposition der Saul-David-

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Salomo-Erzählungen werden diese Ereignisse trotz aller Ambivalenzen in gewisser Weise moralisch gewertet: 1. David wird bis zur Konsolidierung seines Königtums (2 Sam 7) als strahlender Held charakterisiert und von allen denkbaren Beschuldigungen – die im Sinne einiger Forscher offensichtlich sind – ferngehalten. Auch danach, als er moralisch immer mehr absackt, kann er relativ viele Lesersympathien für sich in Anspruch nehmen. 2. Die Benjaminiten Saul in 1 Sam 11 und 31, Jonatan in 1 Sam 13f. und Abner in 2 Sam 2f. (zumindest im Vergleich zu Joab) vereinigen die Mehrheit der Sympathien auf sich. Obwohl sie Hoffnungsträger sind, scheitern sie. 3. Die Abmachungen zwischen Jonatan und David sowie Abner und David scheitern wegen des frühzeitigen Todes der beiden Benjaminiten. Beide Ereignisse erscheinen als tragisch, sodass die Lesenden die nicht zustandekommenden Effekte vermutlich zu einem großen Teil bedauern. Der Tod Jonatans ist schicksalhaft, der Tod Abners vom negativ gezeichneten Joab verschuldet. 4. Bei der Flucht Davids vor Abschalom begegnet Ziba dem fliehenden König mit der Nachricht, dass der Enkelsohn Sauls, Merib-Baal, darauf wartet, das Königtum zu übernehmen (2 Sam 16). Ein wenig später wirft ein anderer Benjaminit, Schimi, mit Steinen nach David und nennt ihn einen „Bluthund“ (V. 8). Bei der Rückkehr Davids sind Merib-Baal und Schimi unter den ersten, die David begegnen; sie bitten ihn um Vergebung. David nimmt die Entschuldigungen dieser Benjaminiten an (2 Sam 19). Am Ende des Kapitels streiten sich die Repräsentanten von Israel mit denen von Juda, wer den größeren Anteil am König hat. Da die Vertreter Israels zehnfachen Anspruch am König anmelden und mit den Vertretern Judas reden, scheint ein Stamm ausgenommen zu sein. Dieser müsste Benjamin sein, der sich trotz anfänglicher Opposition zuallererst mit David wieder arrangiert hat. 13 5. Das Verhältnis Davids zu den Söhnen der Zeruja wird als ambivalent dargestellt. Einerseits sind Joab und Abischai engste Mitarbeiter Davids, andererseits grenzt sich David von ihrer Gewalttätigkeit ab. Gespräche zwischen David und diesen Leuten gibt es nicht nur im 2. Samuelbuch, sondern bereits in 1 Sam 26. Ein dritter Sohn der Zeruja, Asael, wird von Abner getötet, was als Notwehr verstanden werden kann (2 Sam 2,18–23), aber dann sogar vom Erzähler als Argument benutzt wird, die Ermordung Abners als Blutrache zu deuten (2 Sam 3,30). Die gesamte Szene ist wiederum ambivalent 14 und zeigt einen David, der mit diesem Mord nichts zu tun haben will. 13

14

Noth, Überlieferungsgeschichtliche Studien, 72 Anm. 7; 80 Anm. 3, legt dar, dass auch bei der Reichsteilung der erwähnte Stamm 1 Kön 12,20f nur Benjamin sein kann. Schunck, Benjaminm, 141, folgt ihm. Dietrich, Samuel 3, 412, schlussfolgert über den Abschnitt 2 Sam 3,6–39: „Von den auftretenden Erzählfiguren ist keine nur schwarz oder weiß, sind vielmehr alle ambivalent gezeichnet.“

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Zur Entstehungsgeschichte

Alle diese Beobachtungen führen zu folgender Skizze einer Entstehungsgeschichte:

3.1

Erzählungen von Michal, Jonatan und anderen Benjaminitern

Am Anfang der uns interessierenden Problematik stehen die Erzählungen von den Königskindern Michal und Jonatan sowie dessen Bund mit David, die mit Erzählungen über Abner und dessen Verhandlungen mit David sowie über benjaminitische Kritiker und Aufständische, die sich später mit David versöhnen, verbunden sind. Das Verbindende dieser Erzählungen sind die Haupthelden, die aus Benjamin stammen. Allerdings handelt es sich nicht um einen einheitlichen Erzählkranz. Das beweisen die Kapitel 1 Sam 18–20, in denen zwei Stränge identifizierbar sind. 1 Sam 19,1–7 und 1 Sam 20, wo Jonatan bestrebt ist, Saul zu versöhnen bzw. nachforscht, ob Saul Gutes oder Böses über David denkt, sind nicht vereinbar mit den Erzählungen in 1 Sam 18f., wonach Saul David nachstellt und dessen Haus belagert, während Michal David fliehen lässt. Man kann daher mit guten Gründen annehmen, dass ein Strang die Michal-Erzählungen enthielt und ein anderer die Jonatan-Erzählungen, dass diese getrennt verschriftlicht wurden und erst sekundär miteinander verknüpft worden sind. 15 Die Verknüpfung bot sich an, weil sie ähnliche Tendenzen in Bezug auf David verfolgt haben: sowohl Michal als auch Jonatan haben David unterstützt, von David aber nie eine vergleichbare Gegenleistung erhalten. Der Gesamtkomplex der Michal- und Jonatan-Erzählungen, verbunden mit den Erzählungen über Abner in 2 Sam 2–4 und den Erzählungen von Merib-Baal, Ziba, Schimi, Scheba, Rizpa u. a. zeugt von dem Willen in Benjamin, mit dem Königshaus Davids zusammenzuarbeiten, dass man aber auch Erwartungen hatte, die (noch) nicht erfüllt worden sind. Die Komplexität des schriftlichen Stoffes spricht dagegen, eine Abfassungszeit vor dem 8. Jh. anzunehmen. 16 In dieser Zeit ist allerdings eine Abfassung denkbar. Seit der Reichsteilung gehört Benjamin zu Juda. Man hatte sich dazu wohl frei entschlossen. War das eine gute Entscheidung oder hätte man sich vielleicht besser an den Norden angeschlossen, zu dem man früher gehört hatte, wie 15

16

Wäre die Verknpüfung auf mündlicher Ebene erfolgt, wären die Widersprüche geglättet worden. Die doch harten Widersprüche zwischen den Texten setzen ein Stadium der Fixierung voraus, das einfach sich ergebende Harmonisierungen, wie sie bei mündlichen Texten möglich sind, ausschließt. Vgl. Finkelstein / Silberman, Keine Posaunen, 34, die eine „weitverbreitete Fähigkeit zu lesen und zu schreiben“ erst im 8. Jh. archäologisch nachweisbar sehen.

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der Name Benjamin („Sohn des Südens“) beweist? 17 Diese Frage hatte sich vermutlich öfters im Verlauf der Zeit gestellt, Benjamin blieb jedoch die ganze Königszeit mit dem Süden verbunden, auch wenn die Grenze zum Norden mal mehr nördlich, mal mehr südlich verlief. 18 Ungefähr hundertfünfzig Jahre nach der Reichsteilung lebten noch immer die Geschichten in Benjamin, die erzählten, dass man bereits in der Zeit von König Saul auf den Anspruch auf die Konsolidierung des eigenen Königtums verzichtet, weil man in David eine bessere Alternative gesehen hatte. Bei der Verschriftlichung lebten sie neu auf, weil man vielleicht meinte, dass von Benjamin aus auf das Königtum in Juda etwas mehr Einfluss genommen werden könnte. Benjamin selbst hatte ja den ersten König, Saul, gestellt. So gab es in der Geschichte immer wieder Ambivalenzen, was das Königtum der Daviddynastie anlangte, aber im Grunde genommen wollte man sich mit den jeweiligen Königen in Juda arrangieren, aber am besten durch Verhandlungen, die dem Stamm Benjamin Mitspracherecht gewährten. Vielleicht wollte man sogar den zweiten Mann im Staat bestellen, so wie Jonatan das mit David im Bund festgelegt und vielleicht Abner mit David verhandelt hatte. Vielleicht gab es auch Tendenzen in Benjamin, die durchaus mit stärkeren und einflussreicheren Kräften in Nordisrael zu koalieren bereit waren, und die eine Bedrohung für Juda und dessen König werden konnten. Das sprach man nicht aus, sondern deutete es nur an, als man die Geschichte vom Aufstand des Scheba erzählte, denn man war doch eher geneigt anzunehmen, dass solche Aufstände niemandem mehr nützen. Benjamin bot an zu vermitteln oder sogar Böses abzuwenden, und war bereit, immer wieder neu zu verhandeln. Königtum war in Ordnung, auch ein konsolidiertes Königtum, das die Weitergabe an den Sohn ermöglichte, dies sollte sich aber nicht von selbst verstehen, sondern zunächst als gut erweisen, von Jhwh abgesegnet und danach durch Verhandlungen abgesichert werden. Schließlich hatte ja auch Benjamin zugunsten einer besseren Lösung auf eine Dynastie verzichtet. Wenn die Verhandlungen zur Davidszeit aufgrund schwieriger Umstände nicht gefruchtet haben, dann hat man in Benjamin auf keinen Fall für immer von diesen Ansprüchen abgesehen. Als friedliche Lösung stand das Angebot aus Benjamin auch Jahrhunderte später noch.

3.2

Der Verfasser der Saul–David–Salomo-Erzählung

Der Verfasser der Erzählungen über Saul, David und Salomo hat – am Ende des 8. oder Anfang des 7. Jh.s – den Erzählkomplex von Michal, Jonatan und anderen Benjaminiten aufgenommen und ihm breiten Raum gegeben, aber gleichzeitig 17

18

Vgl. dazu Schunck, Benjamin, 6–8. „Sohn“ zeigt eine Zugehörigkeit an, „des Südens“ die Perspektive, die sich aus einem von diesem „Sohn“ nördlich gelegenen Gebiet ergibt, und das ist die Perspektive Israels. Aus der Perspektive Judas hätte der Stamm vielleicht „Sohn des Nordens“ heißen können, aber nicht „Sohn des Südens“.

Vgl. die Karte bei Schunck, Benjamin, 169.

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mit anderen Stoffen zusammengebracht, Verbindungen zu diesen geschaffen und an einigen Stellen ergänzt. Dazu zählen beispielsweise die Samuel- und Saulüberlieferungen, ein Erzählkranz über David als Bandenführer und Listen aus Königsannalen. Auf diese Weise entstand mithilfe der Vorarbeit aus Benjamin ein Werk, das sich grundsätzlich für das Davidshaus ausspricht, aber der benjaminitischen Forderung nach Würdigung und Einfluss noch in gebührendem Maße – wenn auch etwas abgeschwächt – entspricht. Die Ambivalenz aus den benjaminitischen Erzählungen, die eine durch realpolitische Erwägungen bedingte positive Darstellung Davids auf der einen Seite mit Enttäuschungen über David auf der anderen Seite enthält, ist in der Saul-DavidSalomo-Erzählung erhalten geblieben, auch wenn sie zugunsten eines etwas positiveren Davidbildes leicht retouchiert worden ist. Die Leistung des Verfassers der Saul-David-Salomo-Erzählung besteht vor allem darin, die Ambivalenzen im Hinblick auf das Königtum insgesamt ausgeweitet zu haben. Er bestückte sein Werk über die frühe Königszeit mit positiven, wenn auch antidynastischen Gedanken und zeigte auf, dass die Könige jeweils am Anfang ihrer Wirksamkeit von Gott gewollt sind und sehr gut einsetzen, aber gegen Ende ihrer Herrschaft regelmäßig verfallen. Auch vergleicht er die ersten beiden Herrscher miteinander in vielen Bereichen. Dabei stellt sich heraus, dass David Saul im Positiven immer ein wenig übertrifft, im Negativen aber etwas weniger aufzubieten hat. 19 Der Verfasser der Saul-David-Salomo-Erzählung schreibt seine Gesamterzählung nicht mehr nur für Benjamin, sondern hat Nordisrael im Blick. Er wirbt nach dem Untergang Samarias für eine neue Heimat in Juda. Die Daviddynastie ist nicht gut, aber das kleinere Übel und dazu doch erfolgreich.

3.3

Die deuteronomistische Redaktion

Am Ende der Überlieferung steht Dtr mit seiner antimonarchischen Tendenz. Diese unterscheidet sich grundlegend von der antidynastischen Tendenz der älteren Überlieferungen, in denen die erbliche Nachfolge als problematisch angesehen wurde, unabhängig davon, ob es sich um Priester, Richter oder Könige handelte. Dtr kommentierte und erweiterte diese Erzählungen mit Beiträgen, die aufzeigten, dass nicht nur die erbliche Nachfolge, sondern das Königtum selbst schlecht sei. Der Stempel, den Dtr aufgesetzt hat, dringt an den entsprechenden Stellen durch, bleibt aber hinter der künstlerischen Leistung, die seine Vorgänger hinterlegt haben, und die sich in Detailgenauigkeit, Unterscheidung, Einfühlsamkeit, Facettenreichtum, Ambivalenz und Polyvalenz äußert, weit zurück. Da 19

Zu diesem Thema vgl. ausführlich Klein, David versus Saul, bei dem dieser Verfasser allerdings Verfasser der Vergleiche Vv heißt.

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seine Spuren insgesamt eher gering sind, mag es dahingestellt bleiben, ob es sich sogar um mehrere deuteronomistische Redaktionen (beispielsweise zwei oder drei) handeln könnte. Für die Erklärung der angesprochenen Phänomene in den Samuelbüchern reicht m.E. jedoch die These eines einzigen Dtr aus.

Literatur Dietrich, Walter: Samuel. Teilband 1. 1Sam 1–12 (BK.AT VIII/1), Neukirchen-Vluyn 2010. ________. Samuel. Teilband 2. 1Sam 13–26 (BK.AT VIII/2), Neukirchen-Vluyn 2015. ________. Samuel. Teilband 3. 1Sam 27 – 2Sam 8 (BK.AT VIII/3), Neukirchen-Vluyn 2019. Finkelstein, Israel / Silberman, Neil Asher: Keine Posaunen vor Jericho. Die archäologische Wahrheit über die Bibel, München 42003. Klein, Johannes: David versus Saul. Ein Beitrag zum Erzählsystem der Samuelbücher (BWANT 158), Stuttgart 2002. Müller, Reinhard: Königtum und Gottesherrschaft. Untersuchungen zur alttestamentlichen Monarchiekritik (FAT 2. Reihe, 3), Tübingen 2004. Müllner, Ilse: Art. „Königtum“, in: Sozialgeschichtliches Wörterbuch zur Bibel (2009), 301–306. Noth, Martin: Überlieferungsgeschichtliche Studien. Erster Teil: Die sammelnden und bearbeitenden Geschichtswerke im Alten Testament, Halle 1943. Schunck, Klaus-Dietrich: Benjamin. Untersuchungen zur Entstehung und Geschichte eines israelitischen Stammes (BZAW 86), Berlin 1963.

Die Samuelbücher und das Königtum Bemerkungen zu den Beiträgen dieses Bandes 1 Walter Dietrich

1.

Das Königtum in den Samuelbüchern

1.1

Meine Vorgehensweise

Die Entscheidung, die Frage nach dem Königtum zum Leitfaden dieses Seminars zu machen, war weise. Denn mit gutem Recht lässt sich sagen, dass „Staatsgründung“ und „Königsherrschaft“ die zentrale Thematik der Samuelbücher darstellen. Man beginnt ihre Lektüre, vom Richterbuch herkommend, in der teils bangen, teils hoffnungsvollen Erwartung, jetzt werde in Israel die Monarchie eingeführt. Dann rückt zwar nicht gleich ein König ins Blickfeld, sondern ein Gottemann, doch dieser wird der Königsmacher sein. Gott will sich dem sog. Volksbegehren nach einem König nicht verschließen, und auch Samuel muss sich dem beugen. So betritt alsbald Saul die Erzählbühne, die er längere Zeit beherrscht, bis er sie mit David teilen und am Ende diesem ganz überlassen muss. Die beiden ersten Könige sind in den Samuelbüchern gewissermaßen die Probe aufs Exempel: Wird die Monarchie Israel Sicherheit und Wohlfahrt bringen – oder nicht? In gewisser Weise wäre es sinnvoll, bei der Antwort auf diese Frage zwischen den verschiedenen literarischen Schichten der Samuelbücher unterscheiden. Ich wähle für diesmal einen anderen Weg und gehe den jetzt vorliegenden Gesamttext entlang, um ihn auf seine Einschätzung des Königtums zu befragen. Dabei werde ich nach den drei Hauptfiguren – Samuel, Saul und David – untergliedern und dabei, soweit sinnvoll und möglich, auf die anderen Beiträge in diesem Buch eingehen.

1

Ich konnte nur auf die Beiträge reagieren, die mir (und wie sie mir) zu einem bestimmten Zeitpunkt vorlagen. Eine englische Form meines „response“ findet sich unten.

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Vorgehensweisen in den anderen Beiträgen

IAN WILSON wählt einen ähnlich synchronen Ansatz. Er versteht die Samuelbücher allerdings (historisch) als nachexilische Literatur und fragt (rezeptionsästhetisch), was die Erstleser oder -hörerinnen aus ihnen über die Monarchie lernen sollten. Ich werde demgegenüber auf der rein literarästhetischen Ebene bleiben. HANNES BEZZEL und JOHANNES KLEIN vertreten betont diachrone Ansätze. Sie untersuchen die Frage nach dem Königtum und seiner Wertung auf verschiedenen, von ihnen festgestellten Textebenen. Auch das ist sinnvoll und mir keineswegs fremd. SARA KIPFER und MAHRI LEONARD-FLECKMAN gehen den Weg intertextueller Vergleiche: einmal zwischen zwei Samueltexten sowie mit altorientalischen Parallelen, das andere Mal mit einem ferngelegenen biblischen Text (aus dem Buch Rut) sowie mit Flavius Josephus: ein Ansatz, der sich bei den behandelten Einzeltexten durchaus nahelegt. ILSE MÜLLNER verfolgt einen gleichsam soziologischen Ansatz, indem sie das Verhältnis von Familie und Staat auslotet. HULISANI RAMANTSWANA nimmt seinen Ausgang bei einer kulturanthropologischen Analogie. Beim Volk der Vhavenda kenne man ein „hereditary kingship“ wie auch ein „kingship through usurpation“. In der Bibel bieten Beispiele für das eine Eli, Samuel und Saul, für das andere David. Wichtig ist aus afrikanischer Perspektive zudem die Rolle der Stämme: Benjamin, Efraim und Levi werden überflügelt, Juda schwingt obenaus. THOMAS NAUMANN setzt ebenfalls bei einer Analogie ein: bei mittelalterlichen literarischen (nicht bildlichen!) Darstellungen des demonstrativen Weinens von Königen. Manches davon erinnert in der Tat an den biblischen David, von dem mehrfach gesagt wird, er habe öffentlich geweint. REGINE HUNZIKER-RODEWALD fragt nach handfesten, namentlich kultgeschichtlichen „hard facts“, die sich in der Ladeerzählung verbergen könnten. Ein Dagon-Kult in Aschdod lasse sich zwar nicht nachweisen. Doch bestimmte Artefakte aus Ausgrabungen in Philisterstädten könnten Vorstellungen wie die von „Beulen“ oder „Mäusen“ besser verstehen lassen.

Die Samuelbücher und das Königtum

2.

Die Hauptfiguren der Samuelbücher und das Königtum

2.1

Samuel, der Wegbereiter wider Willen

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2.1.1 Das biblische Bild Samuel erscheint als Widersacher und Wegbereiter des Königtums in einem. Schon, dass man nach dem Chaos am Ende des Richterbuches auf einen König wartet und stattdessen er kommt, wirkt wie ein Aufschub des Unvermeidbaren. Doch klingt im Leitwort von 1Sam 1, š’l, bereits der Name des ersten Königs, šā’ûl, an. Samuels Mutter Hanna besingt in ihrem Lied Gott, der einerseits „seinem König Stärke gibt“, andererseits aber «zu Fall bringt und erhöht», wen er will (1Sam 2,1–10). Dass die Söhne Elis wie auch Samuels untauglich sind, ihren Vätern nachzufolgen (1Sam 2,12–17.22–25; 8,1–5), wirft einen drohenden Schatten voraus auf das in der Regel dynastische Königtum. Die Niederlage Israels bei Afek und der Verlust der heiligen Lade an die Philister (1Sam 4) ist dem Anschein nach ein Beweis für die Notwendigkeit der Monarchie. Doch dann kommt die Lade ohne jede königliche Hilfe wieder frei (1Sam 5–6) und zeigt Samuel mit seinem wunderhaften Sieg über die Philister (1Sam 7,7–14) vollends, dass Israel aus außenpolitisch-militärischen Gründen keinen König braucht. Ebenso wird die Erwartung, ein König werde Israel „Recht verschaffen“ (1Sam 8,20), konterkariert durch die Nachricht, dass schon Samuel für Recht zu sorgen wusste (1Sam 7,15–17). In der Erzählung vom Volksbegehren (1Sam 8) wogen die Positionen vorsichtiger Befürwortung und scharfer Ablehnung des Königtums hin und her. In der ersten Version von Sauls Aufstieg (1Sam 9,1– 10,16) wird dieser hartnäckig nur nāgîd genannt, das Wort „Königtum“ fällt erst im letzten Satz; in der zweiten (1Sam 10,17–27) macht der vom Los Gewählte nicht den sichersten Eindruck und erfährt prompt Ablehnung bei Teilen der Untertanenschaft, und in der dritten (1Sam 11) erringt er zwar einen Kriegserfolg, aber ganz im Stil der großen „Retter“, die eben keine Könige waren. Samuel beschreibt in seiner Rücktrittsrede (1Sam 12) das Königtum als überflüssig und sogar gefährlich, doch müsse Israel der Gefahr nicht erliegen: „Ich werde euch unterweisen auf dem guten und geraden Weg. Fürchtet nur Jhwh und dient ihm in Treue und mit ganzem Herzen… Doch wenn ihr das Böse begeht, werdet ihr wie auch euer König weggerafft werden“ (1Sam 12,23–25). Samuel unterstützt Saul so lang, wie dieser sich von ihm lenken lässt. Doch schon nach einer geringfügigen Übertretung erklärt er ihn für verworfen (1Sam 13,7–15), ein Urteil, das er nach einer erneuten, deutlicheren Eigenmächtigkeit

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Sauls noch verschärft (1Sam 15). Danach salbt er auf Gottes Geheiß einen neuen König: David (1Sam 16,1–13). Mit diesem hat er in der Folge kaum Berührung – außer dass er ihn einmal gegen den ihn verfolgenden Saul in Schutz nimmt (1Sam 19,18–24). Angeblich hat er sich noch aus der Unterwelt heraus gegen Saul gewandt (1Sam 28). Es zeichnet sich ein zwiespältiges Bild ab von Samuels Stellung zum Königtum und zum ersten König.

2.1.2 Bilder in den anderen Beiträgen DAVID FIRTH hebt ebenfalls hervor, dass das Hannalied die Hoffnung auf das Königtum einerseits stärkt, andererseits relativiert: Jhwh kann die Mächtigen stürzen! Der Text „manages to hold out the hope of monarchy whilst also providing a critique of how it functioned in practice“ (S. 27). Das Lied ist eine „prolepsis“ der Samuelbücher im Ganzen. Fraglich scheint mir indes, ob darin das Königtum Jhwhs ein Gegengewicht zum irdischen Königtum darstellt. Steht Gott hier nicht turmhoch über allen Menschen, den König eingeschlossen? Insgesamt sind die Samuelbücher „a political text which works out what sort of king Israel is to have – either a king for whom power is not an end in itself …, or a king who looks to accumulate power and wealth for himself“ (S. 35). Dem ist kaum zu widersprechen. IAN WILSON sieht Samuel an der Schnittstelle zwischen Richtertum und Königtum. „He at once stabilizes and destabilizes kingship“ (S. 70). Er scheitert, wie schon sein Mentor Eli, an der Herausbildung einer Dynastie. Dadurch wird das von Haus aus dynastische Königtum „undermined“, noch bevor es eingeführt ist. Nach den Samuelbüchern kann das Königtum nichts Anderes sein als „undeuteronomisch“. Doch welchen der Samuel-Autoren stand wirklich das Deuteronomium vor Augen? JOHANNES KLEIN vertritt die These, dass die vor-deuteronomistischen Textebenen der Samuelbücher zwar Könige befürworten, nicht aber Dynastien. Dies werde an verschiedenen Stellen der „Saul-David-Salomo-Erzählung“ (die anscheinend meinem „Höfischen Erzählwerk“ nahekommt) deutlich, aber auch schon in einem älteren, in Benjamin entstandenen „Erzählkranz“, der von Vereinbarungen verschiedener Sauliden mit David berichtet. – Ich finde die Hypothese eines nicht-dynastischen Königtums interessant. Albrecht Alt hatte Ähnliches schon für das Königreich (Nord-)Israel postuliert. War aber das dynastische Prinzip nicht jedenfalls in Juda von Anfang unangefochten? Und hätte der „Höfische Erzähler“, m.E. ein Judäer, an ein nicht-dynastisches Königtum auch nur denken können? Ging es ihm nicht vielmehr darum, wer die Dynastie gründete – und dass sogar im Davidhaus Versagen und Verbrechen möglich waren? Das liefe dann eher auf eine monarchiekritische Haltung hinaus als auf eine antidynastische.

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ILSE MÜLLNER fokussiert, im Gegensatz zu Klein, eben auf das dynastische Prinzip. Nach ihr gehört „das System Familie“ (S. 281) wesentlich zur Etablierung von Davids Königtum. Allerdings wissen die Samuelbücher auch von der „Bedrohtheit dynastischer Herrschaft“ (S. 283), und zwar wesentlich von der Familie her, die sie ja eigentlich stabilisieren sollte, sie durch die in ihr aufbrechenden Konflikte zugleich aber auch destabilisiert. Dies nun ist auch in nachexilischer Zeit anschlussfähig (S. 293f.). Im davidischen Psalter oder in der Chronik erscheint David nicht zuerst als Dynastiegründer, sondern als Mensch bzw. als Liturg. „Damit nehmen die Samuelbücher gemeinsam mit anderen biblischen Schriften, in denen David und seine Dynastie eine Rolle spielen, ihre je eigene Funktion in der Co-Konstruktion gesellschaftlicher Macht- und Herrschaftsverhältnisse ein“ (S. 295). Ich möchte höchstens fragen, ob hier nicht die Samuelbücher zu rasch zusammengefasst werden mit den „anderen biblischen Schriften“, wo sie doch eindeutig der Ausgangspunkt waren für alle weitere Beschäftigung mit der frühen Königszeit Israels. HULISANI RAMANTSWANA sieht 1Sam 1–8 in Zusammenhang mit dem Richterbuch. Dort wird Israel von einer Vielzahl von Stämmen repräsentiert, hier nur von dreien, die alle ihre Dominanz verlieren: Levi in Gestalt Elis, Efraim in Gestalt Samuels und Benjamin in Gestalt Sauls. Alle drei üben keine (dauerhafte) Kontrolle über die Lade, „the cultic centrepiece of ‘Israel’“ (S. 92), aus; diese erringt vielmehr Juda. Transmissionsriemen der Macht ist die stehende Truppe Sauls, der auch judäische Söldner angehören – unter ihnen David. Strittig ist in den Texten nicht das Königtum als solches, sondern die Ambitionen auf das Königtum, und diese Ambitionen waren nicht nur persönlicher Natur, sondern vor allem stammespolitisch bedingt. Samuel hielt auch nach der Kür Sauls an der eigenen, ‚efraimitischen‘, Herrschaft fest. Rama und Gibea bilden zwei rivalisierende „centres of power“ (S. 105). Die Spannungen zwischen Samuel und Saul durchziehen die gesamte Erzählung, am sichtbarsten in den Verwerfungsszenen. Möglicherweise verspätet sich Samuel in Gilgal deswegen, weil er zuvor in Betlehem war, um jenen Mann „nach Jhwhs Herzen“ zu salben (1 Sam 13,8.14). Bei der zweiten Verwerfung spricht er davon, das Königtum sei an einen „Nachbarn“ („neighbour“, rēa‘) weitergegeben worden (1Sam 15,28) – eben einen Judäer. – Diese Lektüre der biblischen Texte ist einerseits originell, andererseits aber ein wenig naiv, einfach dem biblischen Wortlaut folgend: Textdetails werden, wenn es in die „hermeneutics of suspicion“ passt, wörtlich festgehalten und historisch schwer befrachtet, auch wenn sie aus unterschiedlichen Quellen stammen oder klar redaktionell sind.

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Saul, der trotz Erwählung Gescheiterte

2.2.1 Das biblische Bild Die Darstellung von Sauls Aufstieg und Herrschaftsausübung ruft einerseits Achtung und Sympathie, andererseits Befremden und Mitleid hervor. Als bescheidener, fügsamer, des ihm zugedachten Amtes überhaupt nicht gewärtiger junger Mann betritt er die Bühne (1Sam 9–10). Grandios und geisterfüllt siegt er über einen Aggressor im Ostjordanland, um sich anschließend großmütig zu zeigen gegen interne Widersacher (1Sam 11). Auch gegen die Philister schlägt er sich achtbar, wenn auch mit ersten erkennbaren Schwächen (1Sam 13–14). Ein knappes Summarium äußert sich lobend über ihn und seine Familie (1Sam 14,47–52). Räuberische Nomaden schlägt er vernichtend, ohne sie aber mit Stumpf und Stil auszurotten – ein nicht unbedingt negativer Zug, der ihm aber von Gott und Samuel äußerst negativ ausgelegt wird (1Sam 15). Alsbald bringt ihn „ein schlimmer Geist von Jhwh her“ derart aus dem Gleichgewicht, dass er eines Therapeuten bedarf – Davids (1Sam 16,14–23). Dieser steigt in höchste Ränge bei Hof und im Militär auf, wird sogar des Königs Schwiegersohn; doch jener „Geist“ überfällt Saul immer wieder und treibt ihn zu exzessiven Taten (1Sam 18–19). Alle wenden sich von ihm ab: Samuel und David, aber auch seine eigenen Kinder und schließlich, wie er glaubt, die Priesterschaft – was zu einem Massenmord führt (1Sam 19–22). Saul ist ein Mörder, gewiss, aber einer, dessen Motive man versteht. Er ist ein Täter, gewiss, aber auch ein Opfer. Seine Versuche, David zu fassen, schlagen allesamt fehl (1Sam 19,18–24; 23; 24; 26). Am Ende fällt er mitsamt dreien seiner Söhne im Kampf gegen die Philister; diese stellen die Leichname der Königsfamilie an einer Stadtmauer zur Schau (1Sam 31) – grauenhaftes Schlussbild einer hoffnungsvoll begonnenen und tragisch endenden Karrierre. Ein schlechter König war Saul nicht, jedenfalls zu Beginn nicht; ein guter zu werden, war ihm verwehrt.

2.2.2 Ein Bild aus einem anderen Beitrag Nach HANNES BEZZEL war im Alten Orient „kingship“ – entgegen unseren vom 19. und 20. Jahrhundert geprägten Vorstellungen – immer „kinship“-basiert. Entsprechend wird in 1Sam 31 – 2Sam 5 das Ringen zweier rivalisierender Clans geschildert: des „Hauses Saul“ und des „Hauses David“. Redaktionskritisch betrachtet ist die Sache noch komplizierter. Es kann bezweifelt werden, dass Eschbaals Herrschaft oder Interregnum zur ältesten Schicht des Textes gehört (S. 178), und zwar erstens deshalb, weil der Name Eschbaal zu den in 1Sam 14,49 genannten drei Söhnen Sauls anscheinend hinzuerfunden wurde, zweitens, weil

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die beiden Salbungen Davids in 2Sam 2,4 und 5,3 eine „Wiederaufnahme“ bilden, drittens, weil 2Sam 2–4 das „Haus Sauls“ im Gegenüber zu 1Kön 12 als Vorgänger von Jeroboams Königtum zeichnen will. Von den beiden Königssalbungen Davids ist 2Sam 2,4 die ältere – aber nur in gekürzter Form: „Und die Männer Judas salbten dort David zum König“ – nicht über das „Haus Juda“, wie es jetzt im Text steht, sondern in Nachfolge Sauls über Israel. „Saul wird König über Israel, gestützt auf seine benjaminitische Verwandtschaft,“ während Davids Königtum über Israel auf der judäischen Unterstützung ruht (S. 178). In der Gestalt Eschbaals wurde der dynastische Gedanken auch an das Königtum Sauls herangetragen. – Dies alles ist sehr innovativ, in der Betonung von „kinship relations“ auch überzeugend, in den literarkritischen Hypothesen aber m.E. allzu waghalsig. Aus 2Sam 2,4 die Wendung ‘al-bêt jehûdāh herauszuschneiden, dazu nötigt literarkritisch wenig bis nichts. Außerdem erscheint mir nach wie vor das Nacheinander eines Königtums zuerst in Juda, dann (über den jebusitischen Querriegel hinweg) auch in Israel als historisch plausibel. Die „united monarchy“ entspricht kaum erst den Vorstellungen des nachchristlichen 19., sondern den Tatsachen des 10. vorchristlichen Jahrhunderts!

2.3

David, der trotz Mängeln Begnadete

2.3.1 Das biblische Bild Der Vergleich mit Saul scheint für David rundum günstig auszufallen. Ist Saul gemütskrank – er ist sein Heiler (1Sam 16,14–23). Zeigt sich Saul hilflos gegenüber Goliat – er besiegt und tötet ihn (1Sam 17). Überwirft sich Saul mit seinen Kindern Michal und Jonatan – ihm sind sie ergeben (1Sam 19–20). Bringt sich Saul um die Unterstützung des Klerus von Nob – er gewinnt sie (1Sam 21–22). Jagt Saul ihn in der Wüste Judäa – er macht aus dem Jäger den Genarrten und Gejagten (1Sam 23; 24; 26). Verliert Saul jeglichen Kontakt zu Gott – er steht in engstem Austausch mit ihm (1Sam 14,18f.; 28,6 versus 1Sam 23,4.12; 30,7f.; 2Sam 5,19.23f.; 7). Verweigert Gott Saul eine Dynastie – ihm verheißt er sie (1Sam 13,13 versus 2Sam 7,12–16). Wird Saul auf kleine Verfehlungen hin verworfen – er erfährt Vergebung auch nach schweren Verbrechen (1Sam 13,7–15; 15 versus 2Sam 12; 24). Lässt Gott Saul im Krieg gegen die Philister fallen – ihn bewahrt er vielfach im Kriege (1Sam 28; 31 versus 1Sam 17–18; 2Sam 5,17–25; 8,1–15; 18; 21,15–22). Doch das ist nur die eine Seite. Auf den biblischen David fallen auch tiefe Schatten. Den Kampf gegen Goliat nimmt er nicht ohne eigensüchtige Motive auf (1Sam 17). Als Höfling Sauls lässt er sich von Vielen „lieben“, doch nirgends steht, dass er jemanden geliebt habe (1Sam 18). Sauls Kinder Michal und Jonatan benutzt er zu einem doppelten Spiel gegen den Vater (1Sam 19–20). Den Unter-

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gang des Priestergeschlechts von Nob hat er zu verantworten (1Sam 21–22). Als Saul ihm zweimal in die Hände fällt, lässt er ihm zwar das Leben, nimmt ihm aber die Ehre (1Sam 24; 26). Den Unterhalt seiner Freischärlertruppe sichert er durch mafiose Methoden; bei einem widerstrebenden Herdenbesitzer will er alles umbringen, „was an die Wand pisst“ (1Sam 25,22.34). Er läuft über zu den Philistern (1Sam 27), weshalb ihm bei deren Endkampf gegen Saul die Hände gebunden sind (1Sam 29). Eine Bande von Raubnomaden demütigt ihn derart, dass ihn die eigenen Leute zu steinigen drohen (1Sam 30,1–6). Er gerät in verdächtige Nähe zum Tod einer Reihe von Sauliden (1Sam 3; 4; 21,1–6; 1Kön 2,8f.). Die Saultochter Michal zwingt er an seine Seite zurück, um sich mit ihr alsbald wegen seines – zumindest in ihren Augen – obszönen Verhaltens zu überwerfen (2Sam 3,13–16; 6,20–23). Zahlreiche Nachbarstaaten überzieht er mit Angriffskriegen (2Sam 8,1–15). Er verführt, wahrscheinlicher: vergewaltigt die Gattin eines Offiziers und schickt diesen in den Tod (2Sam 11). Seine Tochter Tamar bewahrt er nicht vor der Vergewaltigung durch Amnon und diesen nicht vor der Rache Abschaloms (2Sam 13). Gegenüber Abschalom agiert er so ungeschickt, dass es zu einem landesweiten Aufstand kommt, in dem der nächste Sohn sein Leben verliert (2Sam 14–18). Danach muss er erleben, wie sich zuerst Juda, dann Israel von ihm abwendet (2Sam 19–20). Am Ende erscheint er als seniler alter Mann, der seine Nachfolge eher nolens als volens und mehr schlecht als recht regelt (1Kön 1). Die Samuelbücher zeichnen von David weder ein leuchtendes noch ein finsteres, sondern ein gewissermaßen schraffiertes Bild.

2.3.2 Bilder in den anderen Beiträgen BENJAMIN JOHNSON gelangt zu einem ähnlichen Befund: „[T]he text as we now have it presents a complex portrait of David that is sometimes laudatory and sometimes condemnatory“ (S. 226); „perhaps what we have in the David story is something of an unapologetic apology“ (S. 226). JOHNSON zählt zunächst, mit Andrew Knapp, die 13 Vorwürfe auf, welche die „David Story“ apologetisch widerlegt. Er übt aber kluge Kritik an dieser einseitigen Sichtweise – ebenso wie an der entgegengesetzten von John Van Seters, wonach eine durch und durch kritische „David Saga“ älteren davidfreundlichen Stoff umgestaltet habe. Die richtige Erklärung dafür findet er in Eric Seiberts „category for recognizing subversive scribal activity“ (S. 231-233). Ihr zufolge schreiben Autoren, die eine Autorität kritisieren möchten, es aber nicht dürfen, ihre Kritik in einen scheinbar apologetischen Text subversiv hinein. Johnson findet dafür eine Reihe von Beispielen in den Davidgeschichten, vor allem in 1Sam 25: Hier werde David reingewaschen und behalte doch „a dark side“. – Ich hege große Sympathie für diese Sichtweise (habe auch in meinem Kommentar viele der von Johnson beigezogenen Stellen entsprechend ausgelegt). Was mir aber unklar bzw. fraglich

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erscheint: Wurde die gesamte David-Geschichte von einem „subversive scribe“ verfasst? Oder waren alle daran beteiligten Autoren und Redaktoren – vom 10. bis ins 5. Jahrhundert – „subversive scribes“? Ich könnte mir denken, man habe es da mit der Handschrift vor allem eines Autors zu tun – und mit den widersprüchlichen Bestrebungen verschiedener Redaktoren. MAHRI LEONARD-FLECKMAN wendet sich gegen die Annahme, von positiven Beziehungen Davids zur Philisterstadt Gat könne nur recht bald nach deren Zerstörung Ende des 9. Jahrhunderts erzählt worden sein. 2Sam 15,19–22 zum Beispiel sei eine vermutlich nachexilische Fortschreibung von 2Sam 18,2. Der Hauptgrund: Im Dialog zwischen David und Ittai spiegle sich der zwischen Noomi und Rut (in Rut 1,8–18). Rut wie Ittai schwören einer Jüdin/einem Juden unverbrüchliche Treue; „in their return prayers, Naomi and David affirm that Yhwh’s ḥesed ‘transcends the borders of Israel’ and is available to non-Israelites“ (S. 217). Wie Josephus’ wenig fremdenfeindliche Nacherzählung der Bibel in den Jüdischen Altertümern propagiere auch der Dialog zwischen David und Gat „Judaism’s openness“ sowie „the cooperation between Judah and its proximate neighbors“ (S. 222). – Kreativität und Scharfsinn dieser Ausführungen sind sehr zu achten. Auch ich könnte mir denken, dass der Dialog zwischen David und Ittai nicht zum Urgestein der Abschalom-Erzählung gehört. Nähere Prüfung vorbehalten, könnte hier der „Höfische Erzähler“ am Werk sein. Damit gelangten wir aber nicht ins fünfte Jahrhundert, sondern ins ausgehende achte. Damals könnte eine Erinnerung an Gat noch vorhanden gewesen sein, umso mehr, als sie in alten Geschichten vom Vasallendienst Davids für Gat lebendig gehalten wurde. Ich frage mich, ob womöglich der Dialog zwischen Noomi und Rut demjenigen zwischen David und Ittai nachgestaltet ist. Hat da ein Autor (oder eine Autorin!) in Wendung gegen die Fremdenfeindlichkeit der Gruppe um Esra eine Anleihe beim großen Gründerkönig Judas genommen? SARA KIPFER vergleicht die beiden Kriegssummarien 1Sam 14,47–52 und 2Sam 8,1–15 miteinander sowie mit moabitischen, aramäischen und assyrischen Inschriften ab dem 9. Jahrhundert. Hier überall geht es weniger um die Mitteilung historischer Fakten als um „power communication“. So sind jene beiden Summarien „not so much about ‘empire-building’; their focus […] does not lie on the extension of Saul’s and David’s respective empires“(S. 205). „The texts at hand are clearly at pains to build up both Saul’s and David’s respective power structures by putting each king in line with King Mesha, the author of the Tel Dan inscription (presumably Hazael), and the Neo-Assyrian kings“ (S. 206). – Steht hinter diesen Überlegungen der Wunsch, die ersten Könige Israels ein wenig in Schutz zu nehmen gegen den Vorwurf fortgesetzter Aggression? Zumindest in einem Fall scheint der Text genau diesen Vorwurf zu erheben, wenn auch sehr subkutan (oder soll ich sagen: subversiv?): Laut 2Sam 8,13 „machte David sich einen Namen“ durch seine Kriege; laut 2Sam 7,9 hatte Gott ihm „einen großen Namen machen“ wollen.

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THOMAS NAUMANN interessiert sich für die „narrativen Inszenierungen königlichen Weinens als Mittel der sozialen und politischen Kommunikation“ zur Etablierung oder Neukonstitution königlicher Herrschaft (S. 244) – zunächst im Mittelalter, dann aber auch in der biblischen Darstellung Davids. „Inszeniert“ sei nicht gleichzusetzen mit „unaufrichtig“ oder „geheuchelt“. Die modernen Debatten darüber, ob David nicht „too much“ trauere und dadurch unglaubwürdig werde, gehen an der Intention der antiken Texte vorbei; solange deren Verfasser nicht ausdrückliche Signale in Richtung „Unaufrichtigkeit“ gäben, sei davon auszugehen, dass sie Davids Trauer (z.B. um Abner) für aufrichtig hielten. Ist das aber zwingend? Lässt die Wertungsfreiheit nicht auch eine mehr oder weniger negative Deutung zu? Könnte im Fall von 2Sam 3 der Autor nicht sagen wollen, David sei es durch seine demonstrative Trauer gelungen, die Leute von seiner Unschuld zu überzeugen – unabhängig davon, welches seine wirklichen, persönlichen Gefühle waren?

3.

Ambivalentes Königtum, ambivalente Könige

Offenbar sehen die Samuelbücher das Königtum als eine vielleicht unvermeidliche, streckenweise auch erfolgreiche, insgesamt aber problematische Institution. Von deren beiden ersten Vertretern zeichnen sie den einen eher düster, den zweiten eher licht, doch beide als Figuren, die in sich Hohes und Niederes, Gutes und Böses, Gewinnendes und Abstoßendes vereinen. Für eine solche Darstellungsweise gibt es einen besonders treffenden Begriff: Ambivalenz. Das Königtum erscheint in den Samuelbüchern als ambivalente Größe und die ersten beiden Könige als ambivalente Figuren. Als Leserin oder Leser fühlt man sich hin- und hergerissen zwischen zwei möglichen Einschätzungen: Staatsgründung und Monarchie haben Israel vorangebracht, ihm womöglich die Existenz gesichert – und: Dies war ein Sündenfall, eine Weichenstellung in die falsche Richtung. Ist womöglich beides richtig? Laut IAN WILSON ist nicht nur der Text „unsure of its own position vis-à-vis monarchic power“, sondern auch die nachexilische judäische Gesellschaft, die „did not have a single take on this issue“ (S. 78). M.E. gab es in Israel und Juda ein solches „single take“ nie. Dieses kleine Volk war auf rätselhafte Weise fähig, Ambivalenzen nicht nur wahrzunehmen und zu beschreiben, sondern sie auch auszuhalten. Es ist für mich eine offene Frage, woher ihm diese Kraft zur NichtEindeutigkeit, zu nicht abschließender Einschätzung und zu kontroverser Debatte zukam. Hatte das mit seiner Religion zu tun?

The Books of Samuel and the Monarchy Response to the Contributions of this Volume 1 Walter Dietrich

1.

Monarchy in the Books of Samuel

1.1

My point of view

The decision to make “monarchy” the theme of this seminar was a wise one, since there is good reason to say that “establishing the state” and “monarchy” are the central themes of the books of Samuel. Coming from Judges, we begin to read with the sometimes fearful and sometimes hopeful expectation that now monarchy will be established in Israel. While the first major actor to appear is a man of God, a prophet, he will prove to be the king-maker. God will not deny the popular demand for a king, and Samuel must also bow to it. So it is that Saul very quickly appears on the narrative stage, and he dominates it for a long time until at last he has to share it with David and, in the end, surrender it to him entirely. In the books of Samuel the first two kings are in a sense a test through examples: will the monarchy bring Israel security and welfare – or not? In a way it would make sense to approach this question by distinguishing the various literary layers in the books of Samuel. In this instance I will choose a different path, tracing the evaluation of the monarchy through the course of the existing text as a whole. In doing so I will subdivide it according to the three principal figures – Samuel, Saul, and David. Along the way I will consider, as far as possible and appropriate, the contributions in this volume.

1.2

Perspectives of the other Authors

IAN D. WILSON has chosen a similarly synchronic approach, but he regards the books of Samuel (historically) as post-exilic literature and asks (in terms of reception criticism) what the first readers or hearers were supposed to learn 1

The following text was written originally in German. For the English translation I am indebted to Linda Maloney. My response could include only the contributions (and the contributions in the form) available to me at a certain point of time.

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from them about the monarchy. By contrast, I will remain on the purely literarycritical level. HANNES BEZZEL and JOHANNES KLEIN emphatically represent diachronic approaches. They investigate the question of monarchy and its evaluation on different levels of the text as they have identified them. That also makes sense and is not at all foreign to me. SARA KIPFER and MAHRI LEONARD-FLECKMAN choose the route of intertextual comparisons: the one between two Samuel-texts together with ancient Near Eastern parallels, the other using a biblical text that is far removed from the Samuel books (Ruth) as well as Flavius Josephus, an approach that is certainly invited by the individual texts here examined. ILSE MÜLLNER prefers a sociological starting point from which to examine the relationships between family and state. HULISANI RAMANTSWANA takes his start from a cultural-anthropological analogy: The Vhavenda people know of a “hereditary kingship” as well as a “kingship through usurpation.” Examples of the first in the Bible are Eli, Samuel, and Saul; exemplary for the second is David. From an African perspective the role of the tribes is also important: Benjamin, Ephraim, and Levi are surpassed; Judah moves to the top. THOMAS NAUMANN likewise considers an analogy, namely, literary descriptions of demonstrative weeping by medieval kings. In some ways such actions remind us of the biblical David, who is described in several passages as having wept publicly. REGINE HUNZIKER-RODEWALD seeks solid, especially cultic, “hard facts” that may be embedded in the story of the Ark. While there is no evidence of a cult of Dagon in Ashdod, certain artefacts found in excavations of Philistine cities may help us better understand motives like “swellings” or “mice”.

2.

The Principal Figures in the Books of Samuel and the Monarchy

2.1

Samuel, the Reluctant Promoter

2.1.1 The Biblical Picture Samuel appears as the opponent of and pathbreaker for the monarchy in one person. That, after the chaos at the end of the book of Judges, people expect a king and instead Samuel comes, looks like a kind of postponement of the inevitable. But in the opening chapter, 1 Samuel 1, we can already hear in the Leitwort

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šʾl a hint of the name of the first king, šāʾûl. Samuel’s mother Hannah sings of a God who, on the one hand, “gives strength to his king” but on the other hand “brings low and also exalts” whomever he will (1 Sam 2:1–10). That Eli’s sons, as well as Samuel’s, are incapable of succeeding their fathers (1 Sam 2:12–17, 22–25; 8:1–5), already extends an ominous shadow over what as a rule would be a dynastic monarchy. Israel’s defeat at Aphek and the loss of the sacred ark to the Philistines (1 Sam 4) appears to indicate the need for a monarchy – but then the ark is liberated without any royal help (1 Sam 5–6) and Samuel, by his miraculous victory over the Philistines (1 Sam 7:7–14) fully demonstrates that Israel does not need a king in order to deal with foreign peoples. Likewise, the expectation that a king was needed to “judge” Israel (1 Sam 8:20) is contradicted by the assertion that Samuel already knew how to judge the people (1 Sam 7:15–17). In the story of the people’s demand of a king (1 Sam 8) the positions shift back and forth between cautious approval and sharp rejection of monarchy. In the first version of Saul’s ascendancy (1 Sam 9:1–10:16) he is stubbornly called nothing but nāgîd; the word “monarchy” appears only in the last sentence. In the second version (1 Sam 10:17–27) this person chosen by lot does not make a very solid impression and is promptly rejected by some of his subjects, and in the third (1 Sam 11), while he does achieve a victory in war he does so altogether in the manner of the great “judges” who were not kings. In his farewell speech (1 Sam 12) Samuel describes the monarchy as superfluous and even dangerous, though Israel need not fall victim to the danger: “I will instruct you in the good and the right way. Only fear the Lord, and serve him faithfully with all your heart... But if you still do wickedly, you shall be swept away, both you and your king” (1 Sam 12:23–25). Samuel supports Saul as long as Saul allows Samuel to direct him, but as soon as he commits a minor offense Samuel declares him rejected (1 Sam 13:7–15), a judgment he only sharpens after a new and more obvious rebellion on the part of Saul (1 Sam 15). Thereafter, as instructed by God, he anoints a new king: David (1 Sam 16:1–13). In what follows he has scarcely any contact with David other than to protect him once from Saul’s persecution (1 Sam 19:18–24). Supposedly he even speaks against Saul once from the underworld (1 Sam 28). Samuel’s attitude toward the monarchy and the first king is pictured as ambivalent.

2.1.2 Images Presented in the other Contributions DAVID FIRTH also emphasizes that the song of Hannah, on the one hand, strengthens hope for the monarchy and, on the other, relativizes it: YHWH can cast down the mighty! The text “manages to hold out the hope of monarchy whilst also providing a critique of how it functioned in practice” (p. 27). The song is a “prolepsis” of the books of Samuel as a whole. What seems questionable to me is

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whether in this prayer the kingship of YHWH is seen as counterbalancing the earthly monarchy. Doesn’t God here tower over all human beings including the king? On the whole the books of Samuel are “a political text which works out what sort of king Israel is to have – either a king for whom power is not an end in itself... or a king who looks to accumulate power and wealth for himself” (p. 35). That can scarcely be denied. IAN WILSON sees Samuel at the intersection of judgeship and monarchy. “He at once stabilizes and destabilizes kingship” (p. 70). Like his mentor Eli before him he fails to establish a dynasty, as a result of which a monarchy that by its nature should be dynastic is “undermined” even before it is introduced. Therefore, according to the books of Samuel the monarchy cannot be anything but “undeuteronomic.” But which of the authors of Samuel actually had access to the book of Deuteronomy? JOHANNES KLEIN advocates the thesis that the pre-Deuteronomistic levels of the text of the books of Samuel did advocate kings, but not dynasties. In the “Saul-David-Solomon Narrative” (which seems close to my “Court History”) this is made clear in several features. But the same tendency is already evident in an older “story cycle” originating in Benjamin that reports how a number of Saulides sought to make agreements with David. I find the hypothesis of a nondynastic monarchy interesting. Albrecht Alt postulated something similar for the monarchy in (northern) Israel. But wasn’t the dynastic principle established, at least in Judah, from the beginning? And could the “Court Historian” (in my opinion a Judahite) have conceptualized a non-dynastic monarchy? Wasn’t he, instead, concerned with who founded the dynasty – and also with the fact that failure and wrongdoing were possible even in the house of David? That points more to an attitude critical of monarchy as an institution in principle rather than to a merely anti-dynastic bent. ILSE MÜLLNER, in contrast to Klein, focuses on the dynastic principle. According to her “the family system” (p. 281) was essential to the establishment of David’s kingship. On the other side, the books of Samuel are aware of the “threatened character of dynastic rule” (p. 283). This threat comes especially from within the family. This is ironic, because the family ought to stabilize dynastic rule, but as the books of Samuel demonstrate, the conflicts that erupt within the family tend instead to destabilize dynastic continuity. That was of current interest in the post-exilic period (p. 293–294). In the Davidic Psalter or in Chronicles we do not encounter David first of all as the founder of a dynasty, but instead as a human being, a liturgist. “Thus the Book of Samuel, together with other biblical writings in which David and his dynasty play a role, each assume their own function in the co–construction of social relationships of power and domination” (p. 295). The question here could only be, if not the Books of Samuel are too readily intertwined with “other biblical writings”. Are not the Books of Samuel clearly the source of all later occupation with the time of the early monarchy?

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HULISANI RAMANTSWANA sees 1 Samuel 1–8 in connection with the book of Judges. There Israel was represented by multiple tribes, here by only three, all of whom lose their dominance: Levi in the figure of Eli, Ephraim in the figure of Samuel, and Benjamin in the figure of Saul. All three enjoy no (enduring) control of the ark, “the cultic centerpiece of ‘Israel’” (p. 92); that falls instead to Judah. The driveshaft of power is Saul’s standing army, to which belong Judahite mercenaries – including David. What is disputed in the text is not the monarchy as such but the ambitions for kingship, and such ambitions were not just personal, but even more so tribal. Even after Saul’s election Samuel retains his own “Ephraimite” ruling position. Ramah and Gibeah represent two rival “centres of power” (p. 105). The tensions between Samuel and Saul play out throughout the story, most visibly in the rejection scenes. It is possible that Samuel delays in Gilgal because he was previously in Bethlehem to anoint the man “after YHWH’s heart” (1 Sam 13:8, 14). At the second rejection he says that the monarchy has been handed over to a “neighbour” (rēaʿ) (1 Sam 15:28) – in fact, a Judahite. That reading of the biblical text is, on the one hand, original, but on the other side a little naïve, simply accepting the biblical claims: details of the text are retained literally and given great historical weight when they pass the test of the “hermeneutics of suspicion,” even when they stem from different sources or are clearly redactional.

2.2

Saul, Chosen but a Failure

2.2.1 The Biblical Picture The depiction of Saul’s rise and exercise of power evokes respect and sympathy on the one hand but alienation and pity on the other. He takes the stage in 1 Samuel 9–10 as a modest, tractable young man who is not at all prepared for the office awarded him. Grandiose and filled with the Spirit, he conquers an aggressor in the land east of the Jordan, and afterward he shows himself to be magnanimous toward internal opponents (1 Sam 11). He also behaves meritoriously against the Philistines, though with the first signs of weakness (1 Sam 13–14). A brief summary expresses praise for him and his family (1 Sam 14:47–52). He moves to destroy thieving nomads, but fails to extirpate them root and branch – not necessarily a negative trait, but one that is interpreted with the utmost negativity by God and Samuel (1 Sam 15). Immediately thereafter “an evil spirit from the Lord tormented him” and it upsets him so much that he needs a therapist: David (1 Sam 16:14–23). The latter ascends to the highest ranks in the court and the army and even becomes the king’s son-in-law, but the “spirit” attacks Saul again and again and drives him to excessive actions (1 Sam 18–19). Everyone turns away from him: not only Samuel and David, but also his

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own children and finally, as he thinks, the priests; this leads to mass murder (1 Sam 19–22). Saul is a murderer, certainly, but one whose motives are understandable. He is a criminal, indeed, but also a victim. His attempts to capture David all fail (1 Sam 19:18–24; 23; 24; 26). At the end he falls in battle with the Philistines, together with three of his sons; the Philistines display the corpses of the royal family on a city wall (1 Sam 31) – a gruesome picture of the end of a career that began so hopefully and ended so tragically. Saul was not a bad king, at least at the beginning; being a good king was denied him.

2.2.2 An Image from Another Contribution According to HANNES BEZZEL, in the ancient Near Eastern “kingship” – in contrast to our ideas as shaped by the 19th and 20th centuries – was always “kinship”based. Accordingly, 1 Samuel 31–2 Samuel 5 depict the struggle between two rival clans: the “house of Saul” and the “house of David.” When considered in terms of redaction criticism the matter appears more complicated. Eshbaal’s reign or interregnum can be doubted to be part of the oldest layer of the text (p. 178), in the first place because the name Eshbaal was apparently invented and added to those of the three sons of Saul named in 1 Sam 14:49, and second because the two anointings of David in 2 Sam 2:4 and 5:3 constitute a Wiederaufnahme; third, because 2 Samuel 2–4 tries to portray the “house of Saul,” in regard to 1 Kings 12, as the predecessor of Jeroboam’s kingdom. Of the two royal anointings of David, the one in 2 Sam 2:4 is the older, but only in abbreviated form: “And there the men of Judah anointed David king” – not over “the house of Judah,” as the text now reads but, as successor to Saul, over Israel. Saul’s kingdom over Israel is based on his Benjaminite kinship – whereas David’s kingdom over Israel rests upon the support of his Judahite connections (p. 178). The dynastic idea is applied to Saul’s kinship a posteriori in the figure of Eshbaal. All this is very innovative, and its emphasis on “kinship relations” is likewise persuasive, but in my opinion the literary-critical hypotheses are much too audacious. It is not justified, from a literary-critical point of view, to excise the expression ʿal-bêt jehûdāh from 2 Sam 2:4. Also, it still seems to me that gaining the kingship first in Judah and then in Israel (after overtaking the Jebusite crossbar) is historically plausible. The “united monarchy” scarcely derives from the ideas of the post-Christian 19th century so much as from the facts of the 10th preChristian one!

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2.3

327

David, Blessed Despite His Faults

2.3.1 The Biblical Picture The comparison with Saul seems to turn out altogether in David’s favor. When Saul is mentally disturbed, David is his healer (1 Sam 16:14–23). When Saul seems helpless in the face of Goliath, David conquers and kills him (1 Sam 17). When Saul falls out with his children, Michal and Jonathan, they are allied with David (1 Sam 19–20). When Saul slays the clergy of Nob for supporting David, David wins them over (1 Sam 21–22). When Saul pursues him into the Judean desert David turns his hunter into a hunted man (1 Sam 23; 24; 26). When Saul loses all contact with God, David is in closest communication with God (1 Sam 14:18–19; 28:6 versus 1 Sam 23:4, 12; 30:7–8; 2 Sam 5:19, 23–24; 7). When God denies Saul a dynasty it is instead promised to David (1 Sam 13:13 versus 2 Sam 7:12–16). While Saul is rejected for minor failings, David is forgiven even for serious crimes (1 Sam 13:7–15; 15 versus 2 Sam 12; 24). While God lets Saul die in war against the Philistines, God preserves David in war again and again (1 Sam 28; 31 versus 1 Sam 17–18; 2 Sam 5:17–25; 8:1–15; 18; 21:15–22). But that is only one side of the coin. Profound shadows also fall over the biblical David. He does not undertake to fight Goliath without selfish motives (1 Sam 17). As Saul’s courtier he makes himself “loved” by many, but nowhere is it said that he loved anyone (1 Sam 18). He plays off Saul’s children, Michal and Jonathan, against their father (1 Sam 19–20). He is responsible for the destruction of the priestly family of Nob (1 Sam 21–22). When Saul falls into his hands, twice, David lets him live but takes away his honor (1 Sam 24; 26). He secures support for his freebooters like a mafioso; when the owner of a flock resists him he wants to kill everything of his “that pisseth against the wall” (1 Sam 25:22, 34, AV). He defects to the Philistines (1 Sam 27), which is why, in their final battle against Saul, his hands are bound (1 Sam 29). A band of nomadic robbers shames him so that his own people threaten to stone him (1 Sam 30:1–6). He is suspiciously associated with the deaths of a number of Saulides (2 Sam 3; 4; 21:1–6; 1 Kgs 2:8–9). He forces Saul’s daughter Michal to return to him in order immediately to quarrel with her because of her objection to what she regards as his obscene behavior (2 Sam 3:13–16; 6:20–23). He assaults and conquers any number of neighboring peoples (2 Sam 8:1–15). He seduces (or more probably rapes) the wife of an officer, whom he then sends to his death (2 Sam 11). He does not protect his daughter Tamar from being raped by Amnon, nor the latter from the vengeance of Absalom (2 Sam 13). He acts so unwisely towards his next son, Absalom, that there breaks out a national revolt in which the presumptive heir to the throne loses his life (2 Sam 14–18). After that David has to witness how first Judah, then Israel turns away from him (2 Sam 19–20). In the end he appears

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as a senile old man who determines his successor more nolens than volens and more badly than justly (1 Kgs 1). The books of Samuel draw a picture of David that is neither brilliant nor dark but more or less cross-hatched.

2.3.2 Presentations in the Other Contributions BENJAMIN JOHNSON arrives at a similar result: “[T]he text as we now have it presents a complex portrait of David that is sometimes laudatory and sometimes condemnatory” (p. 226); “perhaps what we have in the David story is something of an unapologetic apology” (p. 226). JOHNSON first joins Andrew Knapp in listing the thirteen accusations that are apologetically refuted by the “David story,” but he applies a skillful critique to that one-sided view as well as to the contrary one of John Van Seters, according to which a thoroughly critical “David Saga” reworked older material favorable to David. He finds the correct explanation in Eric Seibert’s „category for recognizing subversive scribal activity“ (p. 231–233), according to which authors who want to criticize an authority but are not permitted to do so subversively insert their criticism into an apparently apologetic text. JOHNSON finds a number of examples of this in the David stories, especially 1 Samuel 25: here David is whitewashed and yet retains “a dark side.” – I entertain great sympathy for this point of view (and in my commentary I interpreted many of the passages JOHNSON cites in a similar way), but what seems to me unclear, or questionable, is: was the whole Davidic history composed by one “subversive scribe”? Or were all the participating authors and redactors – from the 10th to the 5th century – “subversive scribes”? I could imagine that this might apply primarily to the personal trademark of one author, plus the contradictory efforts of various redactors. MAHRI LEONARD-FLECKMAN opposes the idea that positive relationships between David and the Philistine city of Gath must be narrated relatively shortly after its destruction at the end of the ninth century. For example, in her opinion 2 Sam 15:19–22 is probably a post-exilic development of 2 Sam 18:2. The principal reason for this is that the dialogue between David and Ittai reflects that between Naomi and Ruth (in Ruth 1:8–18). Ruth, like Ittai, swears steadfast fidelity to a Jew; “in their return prayers, Naomi and David affirm that YHWH’s ḥesed ‘transcends the borders of Israel’ and is available to non-Israelites” (p. 217). Like Josephus’s not at all xenophobic retelling of the Bible in the Jewish Antiquities, so also the dialogue between David and Gath propagates “Judaism’s openness” and “the cooperation between Judah and its proximate neighbors” (p. 222). – The creativity and ingenuity of these remarks deserve great respect. I, too, could imagine that the dialogue between David and Ittai is not part of the original material of the Absalom narrative. Upon closer examination, it could be that the “Court Historian” is at work here. But that would take us not to the fifth century

The Books of Samuel and the Monarchy

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but instead to the end of the eighth. At that time there could still have been a memory of Gath, all the more because it was kept alive in old stories of David’s vassal service to Gath. I wonder about the possibility that the dialogue between Naomi and Ruth was shaped in imitation of that between David and Ittai. Did an author (perhaps female?) opposed to the xenophobia of the group around Ezra borrow support from the great founding king of Judah? SARA KIPFER compares the two war summaries in 1 Sam 14:47–52 and 2 Sam 8:1–15 to one another as well as to Moabite, Aramaic, and Assyrian inscriptions from the 9th century onward. In general these texts are not so much about communicating historical facts as about “power communication.” So the two summaries under investigation are “not so much about ‘empire-building’; their focus […] does not lie on the extension of Saul’s and David’s respective empires” (p. 205). “The texts at hand are clearly at pains to build up both Saul’s and David’s respective power structures by putting each king in line with King Mesha, the author of the Tel Dan inscription (presumably Hazael), and the Neo-Assyrian kings” (p. 206). – Do these considerations reflect a wish to offer the first kings of Israel a little protection from the accusation of continuous aggression? In at least one of the two texts, this accusation seems to be brought, even if very subcutaneous (or should I say subversive?). According to 2 Sam 8:13 “David won a name for himself” by his wars; according to 2 Sam 7:9 it was God who wished to “make a great name” for him. THOMAS NAUMANN is interested in “the narrative production of kingly weeping as a means of social and political communication” for the purpose of establishing kingly power (p. 244): first in the Middle Ages, then in the Biblical presentation of David. “Production” does not mean “faking” or “feigning”. Modern debates over the question whether David is not mourning too much tend to miss the intention of the ancient texts. Insofar as the authors give no hint of insincerity, interpreters must presume veracity in the presentation of David’s grief (e.g. for Abner). But is this argument cogent? Does not the author’s renunciation of a clear judgment allow several interpretations, including more or less negative ones? In the case of 2 Sam 3, could it not be that the text wants to indicate that David, by means of his excessive grief, was able to convince the public of his innocence – independent of his real, personal feelings?

3.

Ambivalent Monarchy, Ambivalent Kings

It appears that the books of Samuel see the monarchy as a perhaps unavoidable and for a time even successful – but on the whole problematic – institution. Of its initial representatives the first seems rather dark, the second bright, but both

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combine in themselves higher and lower aspects, good and evil, aspects that are attractive and others that are repellent. There is a particularly appropriate concept for such a depiction: ambivalence. The monarchy appears in the books of Samuel as an ambivalent reality and the first two kings as ambivalent figures. As a reader one feels torn back and forth between two possible assessments: the founding of a state and a monarchy advanced Israel, possibly even secured its existence – and it was a fall into sin, a shift in the wrong direction. Can it be that both are correct? According to IAN D. WILSON not only is the text “unsure of its own position vis-à-vis monarchic power,” but so was the post-exilic Jewish society that “did not have a single take on this issue” (p. 78). In my opinion there was never such a “single take” in Israel and Judah. In some curious way this little nation was able not only to appreciate ambivalences and describe them but also to endure them. For me it is an open question where it acquired that power of indefiniteness, of evaluation that is never concluded, and for controversial debate. Did this ambivalence perhaps have something to do with the religious context in which the book took shape?

Index of Biblical References Gen Gen 12–36 285 Deut Deut 2:9 217 Deut 17:14–20 73, 75, 104, 125, 127, 137, 146 Deut 17:14 129–131, 136 Deut 17:15 148 Deut 23:3–5 217 Josh Josh 24 150 Judg Judg 2:11 71 Judg 2:13 71 Judg 2:19 71 Judg 3:6–7 71 Judg 8–9 72, 75 Judg 8:22–23 120 Judg 8:22 73 Judg 10:13–14 72 Judg 13–16 212 Judg 17:1–18:31 84–85 Judg 17:1 84 Judg 17:6 94 Judg 18:1 94 Judg 19:1–21:25 84–85, 99–100 Judg 19:29–20:1 97 Judg 19:1 84, 94 Judg 20:1 96 Judg 20:3 97 Judg 20:8 98 Judg 20:10 96 Judg 20:13 98 Judg 20:14–16 96 Judg 20:18 98

Judg 21:1–3 100 Judg 21:1 97 Judg 21:5 97–98 Judg 21:8–11 98 Judg 21:25 94 1 Sam 1 Sam 1:1–3 87 1 Sam 1:1 77, 84 1 Sam 1:5 88 1 Sam 1:11 88 1 Sam 1:13–14 74 1 Sam 1:25–28 89 1 Sam 1:28 94 1 Sam 2:1–10 16, 25, 31, 291 1 Sam 2:1 27 1 Sam 2:3 28 1 Sam 2:4–9 29 1 Sam 2:8 30, 89 1 Sam 2:10 25, 27, 32, 35, 102–103 1 Sam 2:11 71, 89 1 Sam 2:12–36 73 1 Sam 2:12–17 89, 90, 300 1 Sam 2:12 31, 89 1 Sam 2:18 89 1 Sam 2:18–21 75 1 Sam 2:18 71 1 Sam 2:22–27 300 1 Sam 2:27–36 86–87 1 Sam 2:30 74 1 Sam 2:35 74–75, 90, 92, 102 1 Sam 3 71 1 Sam 3:1–11 300 1 Sam 3:1 75, 89 1 Sam 4:1–11 73 1 Sam 4:18 71, 74 1 Sam 5–6 48–49 1 Sam 5:6–12 41–45

332 1 Sam 5:8 103 1 Sam 6:1–18 45–50 1 Sam 6:2–4 46–47 1 Sam 6:4 49–50 1 Sam 6:9 47 1 Sam 7:4 71 1 Sam 7:5–7 99 1 Sam 7:13–15 103 1 Sam 7:13 71, 101 1 Sam 7:15 72 1 Sam 8–12 77, 123 1 Sam 8 72, 75, 301 1 Sam 8:1–5 73, 75, 77, 125, 126– 133, 151 1 Sam 8:1–2 93, 126 1 Sam 8:1 72, 128–129 1 Sam 8:5 72, 73, 119, 127, 129, 141 1 Sam 8:6–22 133–138 1 Sam 8:6 131, 133 1 Sam 8:7 103, 134, 138, 151 1 Sam 8:8 135 1 Sam 8:11–17 12, 135, 138, 155 1 Sam 8:17 92 1 Sam 8:19–20 103–104, 136 1 Sam 8:19 141–143 1 Sam 8:20 313, 323 1 Sam 8:21 137 1 Sam 8:22 137–139, 148 1 Sam 9,1–10,16 124, 140, 302 1 Sam 9:16 75 1 Sam 10:1 75 1 Sam 10:17–27 104, 117, 144–146, 151, 302 1 Sam 10:17–19 97 1 Sam 10:19 141–143, 151 1 Sam 10:20–24 143–144 1 Sam 10:20 98 1 Sam 10:24 146–148 1 Sam 10:25 148 1 Sam 10:26–27 98 1 Sam 10:27 90, 105, 149 1 Sam 11 123–124 1 Sam 11:7 97, 105, 177–178

Index of Biblical References 1 Sam 11:8–9 98 1 Sam 11:8 103 1 Sam 11:12–13 98, 105 1 Sam 11:15 100 1 Sam 12:1–15 105 1 Sam 12:1 151 1 Sam 12:2 152–154 1 Sam 12:3 154 1 Sam 12:8 150 1 Sam 12:12 101, 142–143, 151 1 Sam 12:16–17 105 1 Sam 12:18 105 1 Sam 12:23–25 313, 323 1 Sam 13 303 1 Sam 13:8–15 302 1 Sam 13:13–14 106 1 Sam 13:14 108 1 Sam 14:47–48 185–190 1 Sam 14:47 178 1 Sam 14:48 191 1 Sam 14:49 170 1 Sam 15 303 1 Sam 15:1 75 1 Sam 15:17 75 1 Sam 15:34–35 107 1 Sam 16:1 303 1 Sam 16:3 75 1 Sam 16:12–13 75 1 Sam 16:13 102–103 1 Sam 17:13–30 16 1 Sam 17:24–30 232 1 Sam 19 305 1 Sam 20:41 249 1 Sam 22:3–5 217, 258 1 Sam 23:14–18 305 1 Sam 24 255 1 Sam 24:12 256 1 Sam 24:17–23 155–258 1 Sam 25 235–238 1 Sam 25:7 237 1 Sam 25:15 237 1 Sam 25:22 237 1 Sam 25:26 238

Index of Biblical References 1 Sam 26 255 1 Sam 27 215 1 Sam 27:2–7 218 1 Sam 27:6 31 1 Sam 28 303 1 Sam 29:8 234 1 Sam 30:4 249 1 Sam 30:6 31 1 Sam 31:2 170 2 Sam 2 Sam 1:12 249 2 Sam 1:17–27 24, 292 2 Sam 2–4 174 2 Sam 2:1–4 176–177 2 Sam 2:2 172 2 Sam 2:4 154, 169, 171, 173, 175 2 Sam 2:8–9 169 2 Sam 3:12–21 304 2 Sam 3:27–30 259–260 2 Sam 3:31–37 261–262 2 Sam 3:36–37 231 2 Sam 3:37 264 2 Sam 3:38–39 266–267 2 Sam 5:1–3 169, 175 2 Sam 5:1 172–173 2 Sam 5:3 154, 171–173, 175 2 Sam 5:6 177 2 Sam 5:25 196 2 Sam 6:10–12 218, 220 2 Sam 7 283, 287, 302 2 Sam 7:11 287 2 Sam 7:12 287 2 Sam 7:16 75 2 Sam 8:1 191 2 Sam 8:2 191, 195 2 Sam 8:3 191 2 Sam 8:4 192 2 Sam 8:5 191, 193 2 Sam 8:6 195, 196 2 Sam 8:7–8 193 2 Sam 8:11–12 185–190 2 Sam 8:11 194

333 2 Sam 8:13 192, 196, 202 2 Sam 8:14 195, 196 2 Sam 8:15 185–190 2 Sam 11:27 31, 287 2 Sam 12 283, 288 2 Sam 12:11–12 288 2 Sam 12:15–23 270 2 Sam 12:28 196 2 Sam 13:21 233 2 Sam 13:30–36 271–272 2 Sam 15–19 304 2 Sam 15:16 289 2 Sam 15:17–17:29 221 2 Sam 15:19–22 213–215, 217–219, 220, 221 2 Sam 15:20 216 2 Sam 15:21 216–217 2 Sam 15:23 273 2 Sam 15:30 272 2 Sam 16:5–8 232, 258 2 Sam 16:20–23 289 2 Sam 17:14 31 2 Sam 18:2 213, 215–216, 219– 221 2 Sam 19:1–5 274–275 2 Sam 19:6–9 275–276 2 Sam 20:3 290 2 Sam 21 284 2 Sam 22 16, 31, 292 2 Sam 22:14 32 2 Sam 22:51 32–33 2 Sam 22:32–49 33 2 Sam 23:1–7 31 2 Sam 23:3–4 33 2 Sam 24:1 31 1 Kgs 1 Kgs 1–11 233 1 Kgs 2 304 1 Kgs 2:5 268 1 Kgs 2:31–33 268 1 Kgs 12–14 174 1 Kgs 15:5 287 1 Kgs 20:1–6 251–252

334 1 Kgs 22:4 216 2 Kgs 2 Kgs 3:7 216 2 Kgs 13:14–20 253–255 2 Kgs 22:19 250 Isa Isa 55:1–5 64 Jer Jer 15:1 76 Ps Ps 78:67–68 108 Ps 99:6 76 Ruth Ruth 1:8–18 214, 216 Ruth 1:16–17 217

Index of Biblical References Ezra Ezra 7:26 109–110 1 Chr 1 Chr 6:13 76 1 Chr 6:18 76 1 Chr 10 76 1 Chr 11:1 172 1 Chr 14:17 196 1 Chr 18:3 196 1 Chr 18:11 186 2 Chr 2 Chr 34:27 250

Index of Subjects agriculture 155 – subsistence agriculture 144 aggressor 316, 325 Ahansali 144 ally 212 Älteste → elders Amalek 106–107, 186, 189, 199, 202–203, 249 ambiguity 18, 49, 84, 102, 232– 234, 238 ambivalence 17–18, 93, 117, 125, 269, 282, 287, 295, 301, 303, 306, 308–309, 320, 329–330 Ammon 85, 96, 99–101, 104–105, 123, 186, 189, 199, 200–201, 217, 291, 302 anachronism 166–167, 179, 285 analepsis 33 ancestry 72, 77, 87–88 annals, annalistic style 197, 204, 309 anointing, anointed 33, 74–75, 102–103, 107, 154, 156, 167, 171– 173, 176–178, 266–267, 283, 302– 304 antimonarchic 14, 104, 116–117, 124–125, 139, 158, 160, 301–302, 303, 309 anti-authoritarianism 117 apology 18, 123, 155, 157, 184, 225–226, 227–229, 239 – unapologetic apology 226, 230– 231, 318, 328 aporia 70 Aram 186, 192–193, 194, 199, 201– 202, 203, 254 Arendt, Hannah 15

ark 41–49, 51, 55–56, 82, 88, 91, 92–93, 108–110, 220, 272, 313, 323 Ashurbanipal 248, 250 Assyria 104, 190–191, 198, 201– 206, 248 Aufstand → rebellion Aufstiegsgeschichte 170–171, 175, 177, 179 authoritarianism 211 authority 11, 15, 84, 86, 93–94, 95, 102, 118, 132–133, 158, 198, 251, 318, 328 – authoritative text 19 – charismatic authority 94 – divine authority 30, 158 Autorität → authority Babylonia 201, 214 – Babylonian exile 108 Benjamin 77, 85–86, 96, 99–101, 108, 178, 306–309 Beziehungsdynamiken 289 bloodguilt 238, 268–269 Book of Jashar 24 booty 190, 193–194 border 200, 212–214, 217–218, 222 Bruderkrieg 258, 266 characterization 71, 228–229, 230, 231, 232, 236–238, 239 chief, chieftaincy 83–84, 144–145, 168–169 civil servant 15 commemoration 14 communication 39–40 – politische Kommunikation 245– 246, 259, 262, 266, 276–278

336 – communication of power 17– 18, 184–185, 190, 199, 205 concept 13, 66, 179, 295–296 – political concept(s) 12, 43, 285 – conceptual autonomy – (Eigenbegrifflichkeit) 13 critique 34, 166, 226, 230, 281– 282, 293, 296 – of monarchy 18, 30, 120, 305 – character critique 228–229 – Herrschaftskritik 296 crying 245, 248, 250, 276–278 cult 40, 51, 55, 91, 93, 109, 153, 277 – cultic objects 52–53, 56, 273 – cult centralization 85–86, 92, 109–110 culture 64–66, 67, 69, 77, 78, 212, 213, 217, 222 – cross–cultural 213, 218, 220 – cultural identities 213 – cultural anthropological 312, 322 – intercultural relation 214, 217, 220, 222 curse 232, 259–261 Cyrus 294 Dan Inscription 173, 192, 206 Demuts– und Untwerwerfungsgeste 156 Deuteronomism – Deuteronomistic History 102, 230 – Deuteronomist 82, 86, 125, 138–139, 159–160, 204, 229, 309–310 – deuteronomistic theology 123, 301 Deutekategorien 166 Deutungshoheit 19 diachronic approach 23, 179, 218, 295, 312, 322

Index of Subjects dominion 11, 168, 177, 244–245, 248, 259, 262, 265, 269, 272–273, 276, 281–283, 286, 295–296 – Herrschaftsform 178, 283, 286, 293, 295 – Herrschaftssystem 281 dynasty 13, 14, 25, 69, 72–75, 77, 83, 87–88, 91–94, 102, 104, 108– 110, 121, 123, 282–283, 288, 289, 294–295, 300–305, 313, 323 – antidynastic 301–305, 309 – Davidic dynasty 121, 131, 287, 293, 308–309 – dynastiekritisch 292, 305; → critique – Priester– und Richterdynastien 201 – Saulide dynasty 95, 186 – dynastic promise 74, 287 Dynastieverheißung → dynastic promise Edom 186, 189–190, 192, 194–195, 199–200, 202–203, 220 Egypt → exodus Ehre → honor elders 72–73, 75, 82, 91, 101, 103, 119, 121, 128–129, 131–132, 134– 139, 145, 148, 154, 155, 157–158, 169, 172–173, 175, 258, 300–301 – elder–centered tribal units 133 embedded poem 30–31, 35–36 emotion 246–247 – Emotionendarstellung 276 enemy 99, 169, 186, 190–191, 202– 203, 212, 255, 262, 265, 275 Erbfolge → succession, hereditary Erbfolgekrieg 167, 169, 171, 174, 179 Erzelternerzählung 285 Ephraim–Benjaminite Contention 94, 101, 108

Index of Subjects epidemy, epidemic 41 Erzähler → narrator Erzählung → narrative exodus 97, 135, 150 fact and fiction 68 family 16, 83, 88, 91, 123, 143, 168, 257–258, 281, 284, 286, 287, 291– 293, 305 – Familiengeschichten 285–286 – Familienoberhaupt 169 Feind, Feindschaft → enemy Feminisierung 260 fiction 67–68 final form reading 11, 24–25, 26, 32, 35, 229; → synchronic approach Fluch → curse Fremdenfeindlichkeit → xenophobia Fremdgötterei → idol, idolatry Foucault, Michel 185 future 66, 76, 107, 126 gaps, narrative 235–236, 238 gender 13, 184, 247 general 15, 258, 263, 266, 268–269, 274 generation 88, 217, 282–283 – intergenerationeller Stabilisierungsfaktor 291 genre (literary) 12, 205, 245 Geschichte → history Geschlecht → gender Geschlechterklischees 285 Geschlechterverhältnisse 286 Gesellschaft → society Gilgamesh 247 godnapping 49 government – forms of government 70 Greek 14 – Greek historiography 197

337 Hadadezer 189, 193, 196, 201, 203 Hannah, Song of 25–26, 30–32, 291–292 Heiratspolitik → marriage policy Held → hero Herrschaft → dominion hero 86, 124, 155, 230, 239, 263, 267, 276, 306–307 – heroic literature 184 – Heldentat 176 Herodot 197 heterarchy 13 Hezekiah 251 Heym, Stefan 231 hierocracy 15 history 11, 63, 67–69, 119, 158– 160, 204–205, 218, 222, 228, 230 – cultural history 67 – historical correctness 19 – historical moment 211 – historical reliability 69 – historical retrospective 150 historicity 69, 119 historiography 11, 68, 197, 199, 293, 295 honor 244, 254, 288, 318, 327 house of Israel 173–174 house of Judah 173–174 house of David 91, 173–174, 283, 284, 287, 293–294, 295 house of Saul 173–174, 233, 258, 266, 284, 294 house of your father 86 iconography 40, 198 identity 66, 89, 101, 109, 166, 168– 169, 201, 212–214, 222, 285, 293 – identity-building 13 – kollektive Identität 166, 169 identification 40, 56, 293–195 – Identifikationslenkung 292 – Identifikationsangebot 293

338 ideology 56, 67, 68, 83, 104, 133, 153, 154, 159, 222 idol, idolatry 43, 49, 71, 119–120, 248, 304 image 40, 49–50, 54–55, 200, 221 – self-image 49 interpretation 19, 83, 165, 179 – history of interpretation 118, 218 – reinterpretation 214 interregnum 167, 169, 170, 175, 178–179 intertexuality 99, 213, 312, 322 – intertextual links 27, 82, 108 institution 65, 75–76, 117, 119– 121, 128, 144, 157–159, 320 329 – God-given 118 Israel → house of Israel, men of Israel Jehoash 253–255 Judah → house of Judah, men of Judah Josephus, Flavius 41, 214, 218–221 Josiah 250–251 judge, judgeship 70–73, 77, 82, 85, 86–88, 92–93, 94, 95–96, 102, 103, 105, 108, 122–124, 126–128, 131–132, 157, 300–301, 309 kingship 13, 32, 34–35, 63–64, 66, 68, 70–73, 76–77, 83–84, 104, 122, 157–158, 178, 281–283, 302– 306, 313 – custom of the king(ship) 148 – divine kingship 134 – kingship of God 24, 29 – Konsolidierung des Königtums 302–303 king-law 73, 104, 109, 125, 127, 131, 137–138, 146, 148 king’s mother 16, 184 kinship 13, 174, 178–179

Index of Subjects – Palace-kinship-theory 168– 169 Klage → lament knowledge 67–68, 133, 185 Kommunikation → communication Königtum → kingship konstellativer Personenbegriff 286 Krieg → war Kultbild → idol Kultort 273 Kyros → Cyrus Lade → ark lament 31, 231–232, 250, 262–263, 273, 291 – Memorialklage 263 – Totenklage 262–263 – Verlustklage 263, 272–273 landscape 212, 222 langes 19. Jahrhundert 165, 285 leader, leadership 14–15, 66, 73, 86, 88, 90–93, 99, 102, 108, 110, 117, 120, 122, 131, 132–134, 143, 153, 158–159, 212, 221 – leadership roles 71 legitimation, legitimate 83, 93, 94, 173, 248, 282 – divine legitimation 14 levite 76, 84–85, 87, 89, 91–92, 109, 110, 220 love 317, 327 Macht → power Machtdiskurs 286 Machtvakuum → power vacuum Männlichkeit 276 – Konstruktion von 286 maximalism and minimalism 67– 77 marriage policy 16, 201 memory 213–214, 221 – historical memory 203

Index of Subjects men of Judah 103, 154, 173, 176 men of Israel 103, 139 Merenptah stele 101 Mesha Inscription 168–169, 173, 192, 193, 194, 196, 197, 200, 203, 206 messiah 75, 294 military 122, 155, 185, 205, 255, 267, 290 – military leadership 122, 132, 158, 185, 221, 254 – military prowess 34, 96 – military victory 28 Modell 166 Moab 85, 168–169, 186, 189, 194, 199, 200, 203, 214, 217, 222, 258 monarchy 11, 13, 23–25, 32, 64– 66, 73, 76, 101–102, 108, 121, 123, 153, 158, 239, 322–323 establishment of monarchy / kingship 24, 64, 69, 77, 96, 100, 150, 159 united monarchy 102, 166 multiplicity of meanings 19 Nachfolge → succession narrator 31–33, 35, 39, 44–45, 47– 48, 49, 55–56, 125, 131, 134, 135, 145, 231–232, 259–260, 264, 266, 268, 273, 276, 278, 300–301, 306 narrative 24–25, 31, 33, 43, 66–69, 70–73, 76–77, 197, 294 – factual narrative discourse 69 – fantastic narrative 47, 110 – fictional narrative discourse 68 – political narrative 14 Ohnmacht → powerlessness Opfer → victim othering, otherness 19, 66

339 Paine, Thomas 116–117, 118–123, 159, 160 palace 32, 168 panic 44 pastoralism 144 peace offering 205 persuasion 16, 94, 104, 107, 219 Persia – Persian empire 108, 109 – Persian period 110 Philistines 32, 34, 39–40, 42–43, 45–57, 71, 87, 92, 100–101, 106, 110, 121, 124, 186, 189, 199, 200, 202, 206, 214, 220, 232, 233–234, 313, 316, 317, 323, 325–326, 327 politics 12, 14, 16, 23–26, 67, 70, 83, 117, 133, 154, 158, 160, 168, 201, 212, 216, 218, 220, 222, 244, 251, 252–254, 257, 263, 266, 281, 285, 290, 291 – political advisor 15 – political appropriation 19 – political forms 12 – political debate 70 – political discourse 17–18 – political theory 11 – political treaties 11–12, 216 – politische Theologie 281 polyvalence 18, 19, 309 popular sovereignty 64 populism 211 postmonarchic era 66, 69–70, 76 power 11, 14, 64, 83, 93–94, 184– 185, 277, 281–282, 286, 291 – and knowledge 185 – depersonalized 15–16 – divine 45, 47, 48–49, 56, 64 – formalized 15–16 – institutionalization of 15–16, 64, 282 – legitimation 15 – structures 13, 184, 206 – transformation of 16

340 – vacuum 91, 300 powerlessness 16, 17, 266, 268, 277 priest, priesthood 15, 24, 71–72, 74, 75, 86–89, 91–92, 219, 305, 316, 326 – Mushite priests 85 – priestly protocol 48 – priestly rivalry 86 – Zadokite priests 85 Priesterdynastien 301 private 16, 270, 285 prolepsis 31 – proleptische Zeitperspektive 288 promonarchic 117, 124 prophet 24, 71, 90, 95, 159, 273, 302 – prophetic primes 102 – prophetic redactor 154–155 – prophetische Unheilsrede 288 Proskynese 256 punishment 90, 217, 226, 233, 268 – divine 17, 300 Rache → revenge rape 122, 233, 269, 271–272, 288, 291, 318, 327 reception history 17–18, 117, 118, 229 Reichsteilung 174, 307, 308 rejection 90, 103, 134–135, 303 rejection of divine authority 158 remembering 66–67, 69, 73, 75– 78, 133, 196, 219, 222 resistance 16, 88, 118, 192 rebellion 16, 122, 233, 204, 284, 289, 304, 318, 324 Retterbuch 158–159 revenge 16, 261, 264, 306 rhetoric 30, 68, 117, 212, 236 Richter, Richtertum → judge, judgeship

Index of Subjects Richterdynastien 301 ritual – Ritualfehler 254 – Trauerritual 262 Samuel’s Birth Narrative 83–86 Salbung →anointing sanctuary (in Shiloh) 86, 87, 109 Schande → shame scribe 131, 141, 190, 212, 218, 231– 235 Second Temple era 65–66, 76–78 sexuality 286, 287, 289–291 shame 263, 288 Shalmaneser III 192, 193, 196 Shoshenk I 203 Sieg → victory Sippe → kinship society 8, 64, 77–78, 119, 168, 233, 281, 283 Staatlichkeit 166–167, 168, 179 Stämmegesellschaft → tribal system state 12, 133, 168 succession 75, 88, 93, 102, 105, 120–121, 123, 176, 178, 288, 303, 309 – hereditary succession 95, 104, 120–121, 158, 283 swellings 41, 44, 47, 50–51, 53–55, 56 synchronic approach 121, 213, 312, 322 tears 245, 250 Tendenz, Tendenzkritik 18, 117, 228, 301, 307, 309 territory 43, 48, 195, 212 thanksgiving 28–29 throne 32, 83, 257, 304 – Thronfolgeerzählung 169–170, 288–289 Thucydides 197

Index of Subjects Tiglath–pileser III 199, 202 Tränen → tears tribal system 13, 100, 133, 145– 146, 168 tribute 90, 149, 190, 194–195, 205 usurpation, usurpator 92, 93, 104, 257 Vhavenḓa culture 83, 87, 90, 93, 104, 110 Vergewaltigung → rape Verwandtschaft 178, 284, 291, 295 Verwerfung → rejection victim 316, 326 – offender-victim structures 16 victory 28, 32–34, 46, 96, 100, 101, 107, 190, 196, 197, 205, 254, 274– 275, 313, 323 violence 99, 237–238, 283, 287– 288 – sexual violence 16, 269, 271– 272, 288–291 – violent physical threat 16–17

341 war 16, 99, 170, 187, 189, 199–200, 203, 205, 259–260, 266, 302, 313, 318, 327, – pre-war agreements 216 – → Erbfolgekrieg – → Bruderkrieg warfare 185 warlord 185 Weber, Max 93, 282 Weiblichkeit – Konstruktion von 286 weinen → crying Wellhausen, Julius 69, 117, 118, 124 Wiederaufnahme 130, 132, 136, 137, 139, 141, 143, 151, 171–172, 175, 176, 179 xenophobia 211 Zukunft → future zwingende Geste 245, 265, 270

Contributors Hannes Bezzel, Professor of Old Testament Studies, Friedrich-Schiller-Universität Jena (Germany) Walter Dietrich, Professor emeritus für das Alte Testament an der Universität Bern (Schweiz), Senator h.c. an der Lucian-Blaga-Universität, Sibiu (Rumänien); Dr. theol. h.c. an der Universität Helsinki (Finnland); Dr. theol. h.c. an der BabeșBolyai Universität, Klausenburg (Rumänien) David G. Firth, Old Testament Tutor and Academic Dean, Trinity College Bristol (UK); Research Fellow, University of the Free State (South Africa) Regine Hunziker-Rodewald, Professor of Old Testament, History of Israel and the Ancient Near East, Faculty of Protestant Theology, University of Strasbourg (France) Jeremy M. Hutton, Professor of Classical Hebrew Language and Biblical Literature, University of Wisconsin–Madison (USA); Research Fellow, University of the Free State (South Africa) Benjamin J. M. Johnson, Associate Professor of Biblical Studies and Director of the Honors College, LeTourneau University (USA) Sara Kipfer, Dr. theol., Margarete von Wrangell Fellow, Heidelberg University (Germany) Johannes Klein, Privatdozent für Altes Testament Universität Bern, Pfarrer der Evangelischen Kirche A.B. Fogarasch (Rumänien) Mahri Leonard-Fleckman, Assistant Professor of Hebrew Bible, Religious Studies Department, College of the Holy Cross (USA) Ilse Müllner, Professor of Biblical Theology/Old Testament Studies, University of Kassel (Germany)

 

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Contributors

Thomas Naumann, Professor für Biblische Exegese und Biblische Theologie (Altes Testament), Universität Siegen (BR Deutschland) Hulisani Ramantswana, Associate Professor of Old Testament Studies in the Department of Biblical and Ancient Studies, University of South Africa, Pretoria (South Africa) Ian D. Wilson, Director of the Chester Ronning Centre for the Study of Religion and Public Life, Assistant Professor of Religious Studies, University of Alberta (Canada)