Windows to the Ancient World of the Hebrew Bible: Essays in Honor of Samuel Greengus 9781575068763

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Windows to the Ancient World of the Hebrew Bible

Windows to the Ancient World of the Hebrew Bible Essays in Honor of Samuel Greengus

edited by

Bill T. Arnold, Nancy L. Erickson, and John H. Walton

Winona Lake, Indiana Eisenbrauns 2014

© Copyright 2014 Eisenbrauns All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. www.eisenbrauns.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Windows to the ancient world of the Hebrew Bible : essays in honor of Samuel Greengus / edited by Bill Arnold, Nancy L. Erickson, and John Walton.    pages cm Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-1-57506-302-7 (hardback : alk. paper) 1.  Bible. Old Testament—Criticism, interpretation, etc.  2.  Middle East—Civilization—To 622.  I.  Arnold, Bill, editor.  II.  Erickson, Nancy L., editor  III.  Walton, John, editor.  IV.  Greengus, Samuel, honoree. BS1178.H4W45 2014 221.6—dc23 2013048122

The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48–1984. ♾™

Contents Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii A Colleague’s Appreciation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . viii Nili S. Fox A Student’s Appreciation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . viii Richard S. Hess Abbreviations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   xi Publications by Dr. Samuel Greengus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xv Law, Economy, Academia, and Divination in Bronze Age Canaan: The Value of the Cuneiform Tablets Discovered at Tel Hazor . . . .  1 Stephen J. Andrews The Holiness Redaction of the Flood Narrative (Gen 6:9–9:29) . . . . . 13 Bill T. Arnold Isaiah 47 and 54: An Investigation into a Case of Intertextuality . . . . . 41 Bryan E. Beyer The Tenth Commandment and the Concept of “Inward Liability” . . .  51 Aurelian Botica The Book of Giants and the Greek Gilgamesh . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67 Jeffrey L. Cooley Donning the Right Garb: The Egyptian Ritual of “Opening the Mouth” and the Biblical Regulations in Exodus 28–29 . . . . . . 81 Nancy L. Erickson Mythologizing Exile: Life, Law, and Justice after the Flood . . . . . . . . 95 Angela Roskop Erisman The Hebrew Syllable: Definition and Practical Application . . . . . . . .111 Russell Fuller Neither Slave Nor Free: Children Living on the Edge of a Social Status . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .121 Kristine Henriksen Garroway The Administration of Copper Tools at Umma in the Ur III Period . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .139 Charles Halton v

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Contents

Rabbi Joshua Briskin’s Tav Y’hoshua: Yalkut Derekh Ereẓ, A Handbook for Busy Jews . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .151 Rabbi Barton Lee The Changing Face of Victory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .161 R. Russell Mack Zêru, “to Hate” as a Metaphor for Covenant Instability . . . . . . . . . .175 Andrew J. Riley With Mace in Hand . . . and Praise in Throat: Comparisons and Contrasts in the Bookends of the Psalter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187 Tim Undheim Do Deities Deceive? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .201 Ronald A. Veenker Toward an Ethic of Liberation for Bible Translation: A Work in Progress . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215 Steven Voth Demons in Mesopotamia and Israel: Exploring the Category of Non-Divine but Supernatural Entities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .229 John H. Walton The Literary Structure of Judges Revisited: Judges as a Ring Composition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 247 Kenneth C. Way The Perfect Verb and the Perfect Woman in Proverbs . . . . . . . . . .261 Brian L. Webster Index of Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 273 Index of Scripture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .278

Preface Professor Samuel Greengus has had a long and illustrious career as scholar and mentor at Hebrew Union College–Jewish Institute of Religion in Cincinnati. His scholarly contributions are well known through his numerous publications (see pp.  xv–xvi). Perhaps less well known outside the immediate HUC–JIR family is the influence of Sam’s teaching and mentoring career, spanning nearly 50 years. Remarkably, he supervised more than four dozen doctoral dissertations. On April 10, 2011, the College–Institute sponsored a symposium on the Cincinnati campus in Sam’s honor. Twelve of his former doctoral students were invited to present papers related to their current research. Those papers were the firstfruits of the full harvest presented here. We are happy to present them together in this volume in honor of Professor Greengus. Sam has hundreds of former students, colleagues, and admirers around the world, many of whom wanted to participate in the symposium and later to contribute to this Festschrift. In order to limit the volume to a manageable size, contributions have been invited only from former students who worked directly with Sam on doctoral dissertations. Countless others could have written for the volume who were his students or colleagues, but the project would quickly have become a multivolume work. We have chosen instead to avoid the “weariness of the flesh” precipitated by the making of “many books” of which there is no end (Qoh 12:12). We hope these scholarly contributions demonstrate our great esteem for Samuel Greengus and our appreciation for his influence while we studied with him at HUC–JIR, Cincinnati, if inadequately honoring his contributions to the field of Hebrew Bible and ancient Near Eastern studies. Bill T. Arnold, Nancy L. Erickson, and John H. Walton

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A Colleague’s Appreciation Nili S. Fox Samuel Greengus is one of those rare persons whose academic life reflects Wisdom in the truest biblical sense. He is a scholar and a gentleman. As a member of the Hebrew Union College–Jewish Institute of Religion faculty in Cincinnati for nearly five decades, he has modeled the finest attributes of collegiality and leadership. In his multiple roles as professor, dean, and vice president, his very being was entwined with that of the College– Institute. His actions have always been goal-oriented but fair, his words soft but strong. To his colleagues, as to his students, Sam served as teacher, advisor, and friend. In Spring 2012, I taught the Biblical and Ancient Near East Law course traditionally taught by Sam. His 2011 book, Laws in the Bible and in Early Rabbinic Collections: The Legal Legacy of the Ancient Near East, served as the course core text. It allowed a new generation of students to engage in Professor Greengus’s depth of knowledge and insight of subject matter, which he researched and studied for a lifetime. This, I hold, is one of the greatest rewards of teaching. It has been a blessing working with Sam, and we continue our teamwork on Ph.D. dissertations still in progress. As his successor in the role of Director of the School of Graduate Studies, I stand on broad shoulders, continually benefiting from his guidance. This Festschrift, so lovingly prepared and offered to Sam by his students, is truly a fitting gift for one devoted to the ideals of the academy.

A Student’s Appreciation Richard S. Hess It is a pleasure to reflect on my experiences as a student of Sam Greengus. Sam was one of those role models who combined scholarly integrity with a civility that always looked for the best in people, not least in his students. These qualities contributed to the long line of HUC–JIR Ph.D. students who worked with him and to the great influence he exerted on them and on many of us who took his classes. I well remember the Sumerian courses I took with Sam during my first year in graduate school. He had a knack for explaining some of the difficult concepts and a great skill at including some of the most interesting texts to read. The class of four met in the Sumerian cuneiform room in the library. Although he was clearly the master of the language, he sat beside us in the role of a fellow traveler as we studied and learned. Of course, the fun part was always the stories he would

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relate concerning his own teachers and experiences. His obvious respect for the late Benno Landsberger shone through his words, as did Sam’s admiration for his many anecdotes. I have yet to put to the test the method by which Landsberger assured the prompt arrival of a taxi, involving generous gifts of good whiskey. There were many insights in the classes of Sam Greengus, and they went beyond wisdom and other genres of texts that we read. One day, he congratulated one of the students whose wife had just given birth to a healthy baby. He then observed how this moved one another generation along the family line. I have often reflected on that as, like Sam, I have had the opportunity to move from the role of a child to that of a parent and a grandparent. His love for and connection with his family always served as an example to his students of some of the fundamental values of human life. As doctoral students, we all dreaded the week of doctoral exams. As a member of my exam committee, Sam was always clear about what I should study and how I should prepare. When the time came and I was in the midst of writing the exams, one of the papers contained a question that we had agreed would not be on the test. At the end of that day, I appeared in Sam’s office and made my appeal to him. As a member of my committee and as a friend, he was able to calm my concerns and proceed to set aright the matter. I am sure that, like me, many found in Sam their advocate so that they could have their work fairly evaluated and successfully complete their programs. Indeed, it was a special role that he had during my years at HUC–JIR. He was one to whom many came to seek guidance and counsel in their lives. He had the gifts of listening and of empathy that are sometimes rare in the highest levels of scholarship. One of the great gifts of life is to encounter one’s teacher and friend again and again as one moves through a career. It was always a pleasure to see and visit with Sam, whether in visits back to the Cincinnati campus, in academic conferences, or, most recently in the honor he bestowed on Bill Arnold and me by agreeing to contribute to a history of Israel volume we have been editing. The joy of this is to see the friendship grow and deepen. And that was easy with Sam. On each occasion, he expressed genuine interest in his students’ lives, families, and careers; and this always came with encouraging words. Sam Greengus’s inquisitive mind, sense of humor, and joy of life combine to make him one of those sure guides along the way. Sam, blessings with this volume. May you have many more years to lead your students along the paths that you love.

Abbreviations General 2 NT ANM BE BM cev Crozer CT esv FLP Ist Um JRL kjv nasb net niv njpsv nrsv rsv SH SI TIM

Family archive of Ninurta-uballî 656 b.c.e.–617 b.c.e. (Iraq 17: 69–89) Aleppo Museum Babylonian Expedition, Pennsylvania British Museum Contemporary English Version Crozer Theological Seminary Cuneiform Texts from Babylonian Tablets in the British Museum, London English Standard Version Free Library of Philadelphia Istanbul Museum John Rylands Library King James Version New American Standard Bible New English Translation New International Version New Jewish Publication Society Version New Revised Standard Version Revised Standard Version Tell Šemšāra (= Shemshara: Kopenhagen/Baghdad), Signatur der Funde Smithsonian Institution Texts in the Iraqi Museum, Weisbaden

Reference Works AASOR AB ABRL ABD AHw AJSL AnBib ANESSup AnOr ANRW AOAT ARMT ASM ASOR ATANT

Annual of the American Schools of Oriental Research Anchor Bible Anchor Bible Reference Library Anchor Bible Dictionary von Soden, W. Akkadisches Handwörterbuch. 3 vols. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1965–81 American Journal of Semitic Languages and Literature Analecta biblica Ancient Near Eastern Studies Supplements Analecta orientalia Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt: Geschichte und Kultur Roms im Spiegel der neueren Forschung Alter Orient und Altes Testament Archives royales de Mari, transcrite et traduite Arizona State Museum American Schools of Oriental Research Abhandlungen zur Theologie des Alten und Neuen Testaments

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xii AuOr ÄW BA BAR BASOR BR BRev BRLAJ BSac BSOAS BTB BZ BZAW CAD

Abbreviations

Aula orientalis Hannig, R. ed. Ägyptisches Wörterbuch. Mainz am Rhein: von Zabern, 2003. Biblical Archaeologist Biblical Archaeology Review Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Biblical Research Bible Review Brill Reference Library of Ancient Judaism Bibliotheca sacra Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies Biblical Theology Bulletin Biblische Zeitschrift Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft Oppenheim, A. L., et al., editors. The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. 21 vols. (A–Z). Chicago: Oriental Institute, 1956–2011 Cairo 20001–20780  Lang, H., and Schäfer, H. Grab- und Denksteine des Mittlern Reiches. 4 vols. Berlin: Reichsdruckerei, 1904 Camb. Strassmaier, J. N. Inschriften von Cambyses, König von Babylon (529–521 v. Chr.). Leipzig: Pfeiffer, 1890. CBQ Catholic Biblical Quarterly CBET Contributions to Biblical Exegesis and Theology CDME Faulkner, R. O., ed. A Concise Dictionary of Middle Egyptian. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1962 CH Code of Hammurabi CSCO Corpus scriptorium christianorum orientalium Cyr Strassmaier, J. N. Inschriften von Cyrus. Leipzig: Pfeiffer, 1890 DB Vigouroux, F., ed. Dictionnaire de la Bible. 5 vols. 1895–1912 DCH Clines, D. J. A., ed. Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993– DDD van der Toorn, K.; Becking, B.; and van der Horst, P. W., eds. Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible. Leiden: Brill, 1995 DOTP Dictionary of the Old Testament Pentateuch DSD Dead Sea Discoveries EA El-Amarna tablets. According to the edition of J. A. Knudtzon. Die el-­ Amarna-Tafeln. Leipzig, 1908–1915. Reprint, Aalen, 1964. Continued in A. F. Rainey, El-Amarna Tablets, 359–379. 2d revised ed. Kevelaer, 1978. ErIsr Eretz-Israel ExpTim Expository Times FAT Forschungen zum Alten Testament FOTL Forms of the Old Testament Literature GKC Kautzsch, E., ed. Gesenius’ Hebrew Grammar. Translated by A. E. Cowley. 2nd ed. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1910 HACL History, Archaeology, and Culture of the Levant HALOT Koehler, L.; Baumgartner, W.; and Stamm, J. J. The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament. Translated and edited under supervision of M. E. J. Richardson. 5 vols. Leiden: Brill, 1994–2000 HE École Pratique des Hautes HSM Harvard Semitic Monographs

Abbreviations HSS HTR HUCA IDB

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Harvard Semitic Series Harvard Theological Review Hebrw Union College Annual Buttrick, G. A., ed. Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible. 4 vols. Nashville: Abingdon, 1962 IEJ Israel Exploration Journal Int Interpretation ISBE International Standard Bible Encyclopedia ITL International Theological Library JAAR Journal of the American Academy of Religion JANES Journal of the Ancient Near Eastern Society JAOS Journal of the American Oriental Society JARCE Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt JBL Journal of Biblical Literature JBR Journal of Bible and Religion JDS Judean Desert Studies JCS Journal of Cuneiform Studies JE Singer, I., ed. The Jewish Encyclopedia. 12 vols. New York: Funk & Wagnalls, 1925 JEA Journal of Egyptian Archaeology JEN Chiera, E., et al. Joint Expedition with the Iraq Museum at Nuzi. Vols. 5–6. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1934–39 JETS Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society JNES Journal of Near Eastern Studies JNSL Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages Joüon Joüon, P. A Grammar of Biblical Hebrew. Translated and revised by T. Muraoka. Subsidia Biblica 27. Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 2006 JQR n.s. Jewish Quarterly Review, new series JSOT Journal for the Study of the Old Testament JSOTSup Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplements JSP Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha JSS Journal of Semitic Studies JTS Journal of Theological Studies Kahun Griffith, F. Ll. Hieratic Papyri from Kahun and Gurob. London: Quaritch, 1898 LCL Loeb Classical Library LHBOTS Library Hebrew Bible / Old Testament Series MAL Middle Assyrian Laws MC Mesopotamian Civilizations MDP Mémoires de la delegation en Perse MHUC Monographs of the Hebrew Union College NAC New American Commentary Nbk. J. N. Strassmaier, Inschriften von Nabuchodonosor, König von Babylon. Leipzig: Pfeiffer 1889 Nbn. J. N. Strassmaier, Inschriften von Nabonidus, König von Babylon. Leipzig: Pfeiffer 1889 NCBC New Cambridge Bible Commentary NEAEHL Stern, E., ed. New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land. 4 vols. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society and Carta / New York: Simon & Schuster, 1993

xiv NIDOTTE

Abbreviations

Van Gemeren, W. A., ed. New International Dictionary of Old Testament Theology and Exegesis. 5 vols. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1997 NIVAC New International Version Application Commentary OBO Orbis biblicus et orientalis ÖBS Österreichische biblische Studien Or Orientalia OtSt Oudtestamentische Studiën PBS Publications of the Babylonian Section, University Museum, University of Pennsylvania, PRTMS Princeton Theological Monograph Series RA Revue d’assyriologie et d’archéologie orientale RB Revue biblique RlA Ebeling, E., et al., eds. Reallexikon der Assyriologie. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1928– RS Ras Shamra SAA State Archives of Assyria SAACT State Archives of Assyria Cuneiform Texts SBJT Southern Baptist Journal of Theology SBLABS Society of Biblical Literature Archaeology and Biblical Studies SBLDS Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series SBLSymS Society of Biblical Literature Symposium Series SBLWAW Society of Biblical Literature Writings from the Ancient World SBS Stuttgarter Bibelstudien SBT Studies in Biblical Theology SHANE Studies in the History of the Ancient Near East SJLA Studies in Judaism in Late Antiquity TCBAI Transactions of the Casco Bay Assyriological Institute TDNT Kittel, G., and Friedrich, G., eds. Theological Dictionary of the New Testament. 10 vols. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1964–76 TDOT Botterweck, G. J., and Ringgren, H., eds. Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974–2006 ThTo Theology Today TP Theologie und Philosophie TSAJ Texte und Studien zum antiken Judentum UF Ugarit-Forschungen VS Vorderasiatische Schriftdenkmäler der Königlichen (Staatlichen) Museen zu Berlin VT Vetus Testamentum VTSup Vetus Testamentum Supplements WÄS Erman, A., and Grapow, H. Wörterbuch der ägyptischen Sprache. 5 vols. Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1926–31 WTJ Westminster Theological Journal YOS Yale Oriental Series: Babylonian Texts ZA Zeitschrift für Assyriologie ZÄS Zeitschrift für ägyptische Sprache und Altertumskunde ZAW Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft

Publications by Dr. Samuel Greengus 1965 “The Advantages of Being an Ancient People.” Pp. 18–29 in Jews in a Free Society: Challenge and Opportunities, ed. E. A. Goldman. Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press. 1966 “Old Babylonian Marriage Ceremonies and Rites.” Journal of Cuneiform Studies 20: 55-72. 1969 “The Old Babylonian Marriage Contract.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 89: 525–32. 1970 “A Textbook Case of Adultery in Ancient Mesopotamia.” Hebrew Union College Annual 40–41: 33–44. 1975 “Old Babylonian Tablets from Ishchali.” Pp. 8–12 in vol. 1 of Actes des XXIXe Congres International des Orientalistes. 14 vols. Paris: L’Asiathèque. 1975 “Sisterhood Adoption at Nuzi and the ‘Wife-Sister’ in Genesis.” Hebrew Union College Annual 46: 5–31. 1976 “Law in the OT.” Pp. 533–37 in Interpreters Dictionary of the Bible, Supplementary Volume. ed. Keith Crim, et al. Nashville: Abingdon. 1979 Old Babylonian Tablets from Ishchali and Vicinity. Uitgaven van het Nederlands Historisch-Archaeologisch Instituut te İstanbul 44. Leiden: Nederlands Historisch Archaeologisch Instituut te Istanbul. 1981 “Review of Cuneiform Texts from Babylonian Tablets in the British Museum. Part 52: Old Babylonia Letters, by C. B. F. Walker and Altbabylonische Briefe im Umscrift und Übersetzung. Heft VII, by R. Kraus.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 101: 257–60. 1981 “Review of Economic Relations in the Lands of the Bible, by Moshe Elat.” Orientalia 50: 213–15. 1981 “Review of Sources for Early Biblical History: The Second Millennium b.c., by A. Malamat.” Orientalia 50: 111–12. 1982 “Review of Agriculture and the State in Ancient Mesopotamia: An Introduction to Problems of Land Tenure, by Maria deJ. Ellis.” Journal of Cuneiform Studies 34: 99–103. 1984 “Review of Studies on the Civilization and Culture of Nuzi and the Hurrians, In Honor of E. R. Lacheman, ed. M. A. Morrison and D. I. Owen.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 104: 364–66. 1986 Studies in Ishchali Documents. Bibliotheca Mesopotamica 19. Malibu: Undena. 1987 “The Akkadian Calendar at Sippar.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 107: 209–29. 1987 “Israelite Criminal Law.” Pp. 475–78 in vol. 7 of The Encyclopedia of Religion, ed. M. Eliade. 16 vols. New York: MacMillan. 1988 “Review of Königliche Verfügungen in Altbabylonischer Zeit, by F. R. Kraus.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 108: 153–57. 1990 “Bridewealth in Sumerian Sources.” Hebrew Union College Annual 61: 24–88. 1991 “Filling Gaps: Laws Found in Babylonia and in the Mishna but Absent in the Hebrew Bible.” Maarav 7: 149–71.

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1991 “Review of Old Babylonian Letters from Tell Asmar, by Robert Whiting, Jr.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 111: 145–47. 1991 “Training Jewish Studies Teachers.” Shofar 9: 119–20. 1992 “Law: Biblical and ANE Law.” Pp. 242–52 in vol. 4 of The Anchor Bible Dictionary, ed. D. N. Freedman. 6 vols. New York: Doubleday. 1994 “Some Issues Relating to the Comparability of Laws and the Coherence of the Legal Tradition.” Pp. 60–87 in Theory and Method in Biblical and Cuneiform Law, ed. Bernard M. Levinson. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 181. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. 1995 “Legal and Social Institutions of Ancient Mesopotamia.” Pp. 469–84 in vol. 1 of Civilizations of the Ancient Near East, ed. Jack Sasson, et al. 4 vols. New York: Scribners. 1997 “The Selling of Slaves: Laws Missing from the Hebrew Bible.” Zeitschrift für Altorientalische und Biblische Rechtsgeschichte 3: 1–11. 2001 “New Evidence on the Old Babylonian Calendar and Real Estate Documents from Sippar.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 121: 257–67. 2002 “Redefining ‘Inchoate Marriage’ in Old Babylonian Contexts.” Pp. 121–37 in Studies in the Ancient Near East in Memory of Thorkild Jacobsen, ed. T. Abusch. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. 2003 “Biblical and Mesopotamian Law: An Amorite Connection?” Pp. 63–81 in Daily Life in the Ancient Near East, ed. R. Averbeck and D. W. Weisberg. Baltimore: CDL. 2006 Foreword to Studies in the Book of the Covenant in Light of Cuneiform and Biblical Law, by Shalom M. Paul. Dover Studies in Bible, Language, and History. Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock. 2011 Laws in the Bible and in Early Rabbinic Collections: The Legal Legacy of the Ancient Near East. Eugene, OR: Cascade. forthcoming  “Covenant in Ancient Israel: An Historical View.” In Ancient Israel’s History: An Introduction to Issues and Sources, ed. B. T. Arnold and R. S. Hess. Grand Rapids: Baker.

Law, Economy, Academia, and Divination in Bronze Age Canaan The Value of the Cuneiform Tablets Discovered at Tel Hazor Stephen J. Andrews To date, 18 Akkadian epigraphs have been discovered at Tel Hazor. While these texts have been published and studied linguistically, a contextual analysis is needed. This brief study will give attention to the legal, social, and economic issues and genres attested within these artifacts, as well as their impact on the overall understanding of Bronze Age Canaan. Developing an appropriate taxonomy for these tablets will also help address the prospect of finding an archive or archives at the site.

Introduction Biblical tradition remembers Hazor as formerly “the chief of all those kingdoms” (Josh 11:10). Today, several noteworthy pieces of evidence help to confirm this statement and also illustrate the significance of this wellknown site in antiquity. 1 Located about 14 km north of the Sea of Galilee on a major junction of the great north-south trunk route, 2 the ruins of Hazor Author’s note: This essay is gratefully dedicated to my esteemed teacher, Professor Samuel Greengus, who graciously awakened in me a profound love for the study of the Bible within the context of the ancient Near East. My interest in the Hazor tablets hearken back to Akkadian classes with Dr. Greengus, more than 25 years ago, and the subsequent opportunity to excavate there with Professor Amnon Ben Tor. 1.  J. L. Porter first suggested that the large Tell el-Qedah was biblical Hazor in 1875. See Y. Yadin, Hazor: The Head of All Those Kingdoms (Schweich Lectures of the British Academy 1970; London: Oxford University Press, 1972) 13. One cuneiform tablet, Hazor 11, discovered in situ in a Late Bronze fill in the 1996 season specifically mentions the city of Hazor. Cf. Hazor 5. This evidence may confirm the identification of Tell el-Qedah with biblical Hazor. See W. Horowitz and T. Oshima, Cuneiform in Canaan: Cuneiform Sources from the Land of Israel in Ancient Times (Jerusalem: Hebrew University, 2006) 69–72, 82. 2.  See A. F. Rainey and R. S. Notley, The Sacred Bridge: Carta’s Atlas of the Biblical World (Jerusalem: Carta, 2006) 166.

1

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Stephen J. Andrews

cover over 200 acres. The upper city (the acropolis) rises about 37 m (120 ft.) above the surrounding valley; the larger lower tell extends northward in a rectangular shape. There have been 21 separate levels of occupation found on the acropolis. The earliest settlement dates to the Early Bronze Age (ca. 2900–2300 b.c.e.). The lower tell, however, was occupied first in the Middle Bronze Age after 1800 b.c.e. At this time, the upper and lower tells were encircled by massive stone and mud brick ramparts more than 80 m (270 ft.) wide at the base and 14 m (45 ft.) high. At its zenith in the Middle Bronze Age (1800–1550 b.c.e.), Hazor was larger than Ebla or Mari. In fact, Yadin somewhat exuberantly estimated that the lower city alone could accommodate a population of 50,000. 3 The actual figure may be less. According to Garstang, Hazor, “occupied the most strategic position in the land, the real key to Palestine.” 4 To stand on the site, much less dig there, is truly impressive. Ongoing archaeological excavation continues to reveal extraordinary artifacts and monumental architecture. 5 Figurines, scarabs, cylinder seals, jewelry, and cosmetic containers suggest a high level of prosperity and trade. 6 In addition, the discovery of a number of temples and cultic objects, such as orthostats carved in the image of crouching lions, decapitated statues of deities, silver-plated cult standards, decorated ivories, and bronze snake figurines indicate that the city also functioned as an important Canaanite religious center. The artifacts and architecture of Late Bronze Age Hazor are decidedly Syrian in influence. 7 It is also true that Canaanite Hazor is widely attested in the literature of the ancient Near East. The earliest historical reference occurs in the Egyp3.  Yadin, Hazor: The Head of All Those Kingdoms, 106. 4.  Quoted in ibid., 15. 5. Y. Yadin, “Hazor,” in NEAEHL 2:595. The Selz Foundation Excavations in Memory of Yigael Yadin are a joint project of the Berman Center of Biblical Archaeology at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem and the Complutense University of Madrid. For partial lists of current publications, see A. Ben-Tor and D. Ben-Ami, “Hazor and the Archaeology of the Tenth Century b.c.e,” IEJ 48 (1998) 2 n. 6; and S. Zuckerman, “‘The City, Its Gods Will Return There . . .’: Toward an Alternative Interpretation of Hazor’s Acropolis in the Late Bronze Age,” JNES 69 (2010) 163 n. 2. On-line excavation reports from the 1991–2010 seasons may be accessed on the Web site of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, at http://unixware.mscc.huji.ac.il/~hatsor/hazor.html. 6.  For excellent photographs of many of the finds, see Y. Yadin, Hazor: The Rediscovery of a Great Citadel of the Bible (New York: Random House, 1975). 7. See Zuckerman, “The City,” 178; and R. Bonfil and A. Zarzecki-Peleg, “The Palace in the Upper City of Hazor as an Expression of a Syrian Architectural Paradigm,” BASOR 348 (2007) 25–47.

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tian Execration texts (19th century b.c.e.). Additionally, more than a dozen cuneiform texts from Mari (18th century b.c.e.) identify Hazor as a major diplomatic and commercial center. The city became the southern-most stop on a regular trade route from Babylon to Canaan. Items of trade with Hazor listed in the Mari tablets include tin, gold, silver, and precious stones. 8 In the Late Bronze Age, Hazor is also mentioned in New Kingdom texts and the Amarna Tablets. 9 In the Amarna archive Hazor is the only southern Levant city mentioned alongside of northern Syrian cities in the “First-Tier Greetings sphere.” This means that in the greeting-formula system Hazor is ranked with Tunip, Qatna, Irqata, and Ugarit. 10 This ranking, along with the Syrian influence in artifactual and architectural evidence, suggests that Hazor may have maintained a unique influence as a representative “Mesopotamian” metropolis in Bronze Age Canaan. Such an influence may have extended beyond matters of trade and commerce. The Bible likewise describes the political and military power of Hazor. In Joshua 11, Jabin, the King of Hazor, forms a confederation of northern city-states, complete with infantry, chariots, and horses. Later, in the account of the judges Deborah and Barak (Judges 4–5), Jabin, the king of Canaan, and Sisera, the commander of his army, oppress the northern tribes of Israel for 20 years (Judg 4:2–3). Jabin, which appears to be a dynastic name, ruled from Hazor (v. 2). 11 The military power of Hazor at this time can be seen in the fact that Jabin and Sisera could field 900 chariots of iron (v. 3).

The Corpus of Cuneiform Tablets from Hazor In the last 50 years, important new cuneiform evidence has arisen attesting to another possible role Hazor has played in the cultural heritage of Canaan. Eighteen cuneiform epigraphs have been discovered at the site, either by chance or in the course of excavation. 12 These texts can be dated 8. A. Malamat, Mari and the Early Israelite Experience (Schweich Lectures of the British Academy 1984; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989) 62–66. 9.  Amarna Tablets, 227–28. See A. F. Rainey, “Hazor,” ISBE 2:636–38. In tablet 227, the ruler of Hazor dares to call himself “king.” He is the only Canaanite vassal to adopt this royal title in correspondence with an Egyptian Pharaoh. 10.  E. F. Morris, “Bowing and Scraping in the Ancient Near East: An Investigation into Obsequiousness in the Amarna Letters,” JNES 65 (2006) 186 fig. 1 table 4. 11.  Hazor 8, a letter written in a hand suitable for royal correspondence, may bear a part of King Ibni-Addu’s name. See Horowitz and Oshima, Cuneiform in Canaan, 12, 77–78. 12.  To the 15 tablets listed in Horowitz and Oshima, Cuneiform in Canaan, add now W. Horowitz and T. Oshima, “Hazor 16: Another Administrative Document from Hazor,” IEJ 60 (2010) 129–32; and W. Horowitz, T. Oshima, and A. Wintzer, “Hazor

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on paleographic and linguistic grounds to three distinct time periods. Eight date from the Old Babylonian period (MB) at the time of the Mari archives. 13 Three come from the Old Babylonian period but after the time of the Hazor-Mari contacts (later MB). 14 Six are clearly from the Middle Babylonian period (LB) and consistent with the Amarna archives. 15 The date of one epigraph (two seals on a jug handle) is uncertain. 16 The corpus of 18 texts from Hazor is now the largest group of texts discovered from one site in modern Israel. It is one more than the 17 Late Bronze tablets found at Taanach. 17 The 8 Old Babylonian tablets from Hazor are so far the oldest attested in ancient Canaan. These texts can be directly linked with the archives of Mari and the Middle Bronze II cities of Syria. In fact, Hazor 12 specifically mentions the cities of Mari and Ekallatum. 18 So while these 8 represent a very small corpus, this connection may suggest that cuneiform script, and the Mesopotamian culture affiliated with it, did not effectively arrive in the Canaanite west until late in the Middle Bronze Age, and that it possibly entered the southwest through the portal of Hazor. 19 This essay proposes to classify and briefly examine the Hazor corpus according to several archival subgroups and to offer brief introductory re17: Another Clay Liver Model,” IEJ 60 (2010) 133–45. Hazor 15 was published in W. Horowitz and T. Oshima, “Hazor 15: A Letter Fragment from Hazor,” IEJ 57 (2007) 34–40. What is called “Hazor 18” herein was discovered on the surface of the site in the 2010 season but remains unpublished (see “Strata: On the Trail of Hazor’s Royal Archive,” BAR 36/6 [Nov.–Dec. 2010] 16). This tablet as well as one discovered recently in the Ophel excavations in Jerusalem should be added to the overall number listed in Horowitz and Oshima, Cuneiform in Canaan. For the Jerusalem tablet, see E. Mazar, W. Horowitz, T. Oshima, and Y. Goren, “A Cuneiform Tablet from the Ophel in Jerusalem,” IEJ 60 (2010) 4–21. For a provenance study of the tablets discovered up to 2000, including the two Amarna Tablets from Hazor (227–28), see Y. Goren, “Provenance Study of the Cuneiform Texts from Hazor,” IEJ 50 (2000) 29–43. Reference here to the Hazor tablets will follow the numbering system of Horowitz and Oshima, Cuneiform in Canaan, with the addition of tablets 15–18 listed above. 13.  Hazor 1, 7–9, 12, 15, 17–18(?). 14.  Hazor 2–3, 5. 15.  Hazor 6, 10–11, 13–14, 16. 16.  Hazor 4. 17.  Horowitz and Oshima, Cuneiform in Canaan, 127–51. 18.  Ibid., 7. 19.  Ibid., 19. See also W. Horowitz, “Old Babylonian Period Tablets at Hazor: The Earliest Writings of the Cuneiform Southwest” (paper presented at the Origins of Early Writing Systems International Conference, Peking University, Beijing, 5–7 October 2007), 1. Cited 7 April 2011. On-line (with audio presentation): http://www.caeno.org/ origins/index.htm.

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marks on the impact that Hazor may have played in Bronze Age Canaan. The Hazor tablets point directly to the same style of Mesopotamian culture practiced at Mari and its contemporary Syrian counterparts. Consequently, Bronze Age Hazor may be regarded as the southwestern outpost of that culture. This conclusion, if confirmed by further discoveries, will undoubtedly have a significant affect on the current understanding of ancient Canaanite history. In addition, suggesting a preliminary taxonomy for these tablets will also address the prospect of finding an archive or archives at Hazor. The 18 tablets from Hazor can be categorized broadly in several archival subgroups: administrative, divinatory, economic, legal, religious, and scribal. The texts are discussed below, beginning in each category with the oldest datable tablets first. Due to the fragmentary nature of the tablets, texts may fit well in several subgroups. Some tablets are also multipurpose. Consequently, the taxonomy offered here must be tentative.

Administrative Texts Hazor 4. A jug handle with two seal impressions was found in Area H in 1957–58. 20 The seal stamped on the clay handles was carelessly made. For this reason, the text is difficult to read. Horowitz and Oshima suggest reading either a personal or royal name: x ṭa-ba LUGAL. If the name is of a king, then the seal may be an Akkadian version of the Judean Iron Age lěmelek stamped jar handles. 21 The date of this text is uncertain. Hazor 11. Uncovered in the 1996 excavation season, this Late Bronze docket lists a geographic name (GN) followed by a personal name (PN) on each of three successive lines. The formula ana (to/for) GN PN is unique to Hazor. 22 One of the names listed is Hazor; another may be a writing for Nazareth: URU Na-A[S]-SUR-[r]a. The personal names represent widespread types: western peripheral Akkadian, West Semitic, and possibly Kassite. 23

Divinatory Texts Hazor 2–3. Two clay liver models written in different hands dating from the later part of the Old Babylonian period (late MB) were discovered near 20. Y. Yadin, Hazor III–IV (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1961) pl. 316. Basic information, such as primary publication, further studies, find information, and so on, is also listed in Horowitz and Oshima, Cuneiform in Canaan. 21. A. Mazar, Archaeology of the Land of the Bible 10,000–586 b.c.e. (New York: Doubleday, 1992) 455–58. 22. R. Hess, “Typology of a Late Bronze Age Administrative Tablet from Hazor,” UF 33 (2001) 242. 23. W. Horowitz, “Two Late Bronze Age Tablets from Hazor,” IEJ 50 (2000) 25–28.

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the larger altar in the temple excavated in stratum 2 of Area H in 1958. 24 These two fragments are of a particular type used for instruction in extispicy. They preserve apodoses of omens without written protases. They may have been imported from Mari and were apparently employed as visual aids to teach the bārû priests the fine art of divination by examining the entrails of sacrificed animals. If an obtrusion or perforation on the liver of sacrificial sheep matches that on one of the models, a future event is predicted. Those on the Hazor liver models are general in nature, as can be attested from fragment A: One king will subjugate a king. An enemy will ri[se] against my land. Joyful/sinful . . . of a god on earth. A god’s forgive[n]ess for a man. A slav[e] will rebel against his master.

From fragment B: Ištar will devour the land. Nergal will give out a name. The city, its gods will return there. 25

Hazor 17. A third clay liver model was discovered in Area A2 in 2007. It possesses the same format, genre, and script as Hazor 2–3 and should be dated along with them to the end of the Middle Bronze Age. Parallels to all three of the Hazor liver models may be found in contemporary examples from Syria and Mesopotamia. 26 These three models, plus the three noninscribed fragments of liver models also found at Hazor, 27 strongly suggest that divination was being practiced and studied in Canaan in the Middle Bronze period.  28 Specific details on Hazor 17 confirm that this tablet belongs to the mainstream of the extispicy tradition in Mesopotamia. The translation of Hazor 17 is given by Horowitz, Oshima, and Winitzer as follows: 24.  Yadin, Hazor: The Head of All Those Kingdoms, 82–83. See B. Landsberger and H. Tadmor, “Fragments of Clay Liver Models from Hazor,” IEJ 14 (1964) 201–18. 25.  The translations of fragments A and B are taken from Horowitz and Oshima, Cuneiform in Canaan, 67–68, except that the first person in the second line of fragment A is restored without emendation following W. Horowitz, T Oshima, and A. Winitzer, “Hazor 17,” 136. 26.  Ibid., 133. 27.  See B. Landsberger and H. Tadmor, “Fragments of Clay Liver Models,” 208 n. 16. 28.  Cf. the cylinder seal belonging to Ma-a-nu-um, “the diviner” (bārû) discovered at Beth Shean. See A. Rowe, The Topography and History of Beth-Shan (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1930) 23 pl. 34 no. 3.

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In the afternoon, it will become dark, the enemy I will kill In the evening, it will become dark, the enemy I will kill Like the start (opening) of a rebellion A man will reach the realm of wisdom A god received the prayer of a man. 29

Economic Texts Hazor 7. An administrative tablet came to light in Area M in 1991. This text contains a payroll list for unspecified work, perhaps harvesting, and dates to the Old Babylonian (MB) period. 30 The individuals listed on the tablet received wages of either 1/2 or 1/3 shekel of silver. One smithy is listed (nappāhum). Of the 19 names surviving on the fragment, 11 are clearly Amorite. Addu, the storm God, predominates as the divine element in the theophoric names. This tablet was found in an Iron Age wall in the excavation of Area M. Area M contains the basalt steps that connect the lower city with the upper acropolis. Hazor 12. Part of the obverse and reverse of an Old Babylonian (MB) letter tablet was discovered within a fill layer of Area A in 1996. 31 The contents of this letter concern an extensive list of textiles, luxury goods, and metal to be sent from Hazor to Mari! It provides a complement to the texts excavated at Mari that mention Hazor and sheds light on the close commercial and cultural ties between the two Middle Bronze Age cities. 32 Perhaps as a sign of the political responsibilities of a vassal, the king of Hazor, or some other high official, was expected to contribute to the festivals and religious ceremonies at Mari. Unfortunately, the beginning of the text is broken, so the sender and recipient are unknown. Horowitz and Wasserman have proposed that the letter may refer to the diplomatic gifts required from Hazor for the marriage of Yasmah-Addu of Mari, son of Samsi-Addu, to a princess of Qatna. This list of goods testifies to the economy of Hazor. 33 Hazor 10. This Late Bronze letter shares many affinities with the Amarna Tablets including a pair of West Semitic glosses (lines 19, 21) and was found along with Hazor 11 in the same locus in Area A in 1996. 34 It concerns a complex communication between Adduʾapdi and Puratpurta 29. W. Horowitz, T Oshima, and A. Winitzer, “Hazor 17,” 134. 30. W. Horowitz and A. Shaffer, “An Administrative Tablet from Hazor: A Preliminary Edition,” IEJ 42 (1992) 21–33. 31. W. Horowitz and N. Wasserman, “An Old Babylonian Letter from Hazor with Mention of Mari and Ekallatum,” IEJ 50 (2000) 169 n. 1. 32.  Yadin, Hazor: The Head of All Those Kingdoms, 2–6. 33.  Horowitz and Oshima, Cuneiform in Canaan, 83. 34.  Horowitz, “Two Late Bronze Age Tablets,” 19.

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(perhaps a Kassite name) through an intermediary, Yarima. The tablet concerns the dispatch of a group of women belonging to a group of young men (TUR.MEŠ = ṣuḫārū). Apparently, the women deserted their work, and Adduʾapdi gives an excuse and appeals to the gods to judge what took place. Hazor 14. This small Late Bronze text refers to nine linen textiles. While the reading of the type of linen textiles is uncertain, the tablet probably records the transfer of the same. The tablet was found in 2000 in Area A. 35 Hazor 16. Like Hazor 14, Hazor 16 is a Late Bronze text referring to a possible transfer of linens. It was discovered in the 2006 excavations in Area A. Hazor 16 lists a total of eight textiles: “seven fine quality garments; one linen (garment).” The noun identifying the seven garments here is the same describing the nine garments in Hazor 14. Both texts point to a textile industry at Hazor. Hazor 12 points to over 9,000 pieces of cloth, clothing, or textiles sent from Hazor to Mari. 36

Legal Hazor 5. In 1962, a half-tablet fragment of an Old Babylonian lawsuit was discovered by a visitor to the site somewhere in a debris dump near Area A. 37 Three young men (ṣuḫārū) come before the king in litigation against a woman, Sumulailum, over a house and an orchard in Hazor and the nearby city of Giladima (Gilead?). Apparently, the young men lost the case as the king adjudicated a penalty payment of 200 shekels of silver to dissuade any future litigants. Of particular interest in this tablet is the rendering of several of the personal names, two of which may reflect early evidence of the /a/ to /o/ sound shift in West Semitic. 38 Hazor 8. A very small flake from an Old Babylonian (MB) letter was discovered in 1992 in area A. This letter, written in a very fine hand, concerns the transfer of a young woman and the report of objections raised to the transfer. 39 This text may have been addressed to Ibni-Addu, the king of Hazor known from the Mari tablets. One of the names mentioned in the Hazor 5 lawsuit might also be restored on this tablet. 35. W. Horowitz and T. Oshima, “Two More Cuneiform Finds from Hazor,” IEJ 52 (2002) 183–84. 36.  Idem, “Hazor 16: Another Administrative Docket from Hazor,” IEJ 60 (2010) 129–32. 37. W. Hallo and H. Tadmor, “A Lawsuit from Hazor,” IEJ 27 (1977) 2. 38.  Ibid., 5. See also Josh 15:59 and compare Mar-Ḫanuta and Sum-Ḫanutaū. 39. W. Horowitz and A. Shaffer, “A Fragment of a Letter from Hazor,” IEJ 42 (1992) 165–67.

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Hazor 15. A poorly preserved tablet discovered in Area A in the 2004 excavations, this text appears to date to the latter part of the Middle Bronze Age. 40 The tablet concerns the settlement of a debt, perhaps involving a state of tenancy, or a type of antichretic debt in which family members are pledged as security for the loan. Apparently, the son repays the loan and the debtor family is released. Hazor 18. Hazor 18 was discovered on the surface of the tell and is yet unpublished. The initial report by Horowitz indicates that the tablet dates to the Old Babylonian period (MB). The small fragment (or possibly two fragments of the same tablet) contains about 20 words (“master,” “slave,” “tooth,” and other body parts). Close parallels to legalistic language of the lex talionis (for example, “eye for an eye”) may also be present, suggesting comparisons with the Code of Hammurapi and biblical law codes. 41

Religious Texts Hazor 1. In Area C in 1956 an inscribed bowl was recovered. 42 The trident/lightning symbol of Addu, the Canaanite storm-god, was cut into the bowl while it was wet, while the personal name, Išme-dAdad was scratched on the surface after firing. The bowl may have been used in a libation ceremony of some sort. The name is common to the Old Babylonian period (MB). Hazor 13. During the 2000 excavation season a fragment of an inscribed stone bowl was discovered in an installation in the podium complex of Area M. 43 The cuneiform script is dated to the Late Bronze Age based on paleographic evidence. The text reflects a dedicatory inscription for an agannu, “large vessel” or “bowl.” The find spot suggests that the bowl may have been used in ritual activities. 44

Scribal Texts Hazor 6. A Late Bronze fragment of the lexigraphical series Urra = ḫubullu was found accidently in Area A on the acropolis in 1968. 45 The six preserved lines correspond roughly to lines 130–35 of the second tablet in 40.  Horowitz and Oshima, “Hazor 15,” 35. 41.  “Strata: On the Trail of Hazor’s Royal Archive,” 16. 42. Y. Yadin, Hazor II (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1960) 115–17. 43.  Horowitz and Oshima, “Two More Cuneiform Finds,” 179–82. 44. S. Zuckerman, “Where Is the Hazor Archive Buried?” BAR 32/2 (March–April 2006) 36. 45. H. Tadmor, “A Lexicographical Text from Hazor,” IEJ 27 (1977) 98–102 pl. 13.

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the series. This section itemizes the terminology of mahīru—the rate of exchange, market rate, or price. The didactic importance of this word list for scribal schools is well known. 46 Along with the liver models and the lawsuit fragment, Yadin regarded this text as proof of the existence of experienced scribes at the court of Hazor. 47 Hazor 9. A fragment of a prism containing the standard Old Babylonian series of combined multiplication tables was found in a fill layer just outside the so-called treasure room in the palace. 48 Mathematical tablets are attested elsewhere in the ancient Near East, and they often combine several multiplication tables in a fixed canonical order. The Hazor fragment starts with reciprocal pairs (X.Y = 60) in the sexagesimal (Base 60) system utilized in Mesopotamia. Multiplication tables for “principal numbers” and fractions are also given. Only a small portion of the original four-sided prism remains. A petrographic analysis of the prism shows that the clay of the tablet is identical to EA 228, the letter of Abdi-Tirši of Hazor. 49 This means the prism was written locally at Hazor and used as a school text there. Students would have been expected to study and copy the calculations found on the tablet. 50

The Cuneiform Archive at Hazor Yigael Yadin believed that a royal archive of cuneiform texts of the Kings of Hazor existed at Hazor. 51 Amnon Ben-Tor holds this belief just as firmly. 52 For Amnon Ben-Tor, the existence of a cuneiform archive at Hazor is only logical. Archives have been discovered at sites in Syria, Egypt, and Iraq; but none has ever been found in Israel. Archives have been found in capital cities; Hazor was a capital city. Archives were found in temples or palaces; Hazor has a temple and a palace. These temples and palaces can be dated to the 2nd millennium b.c.e.; Hazor’s palace/temple dates to the same period. 46.  A. L. Oppenheim, Ancient Mesopotamia: Portrait of a Dead Civilization (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1974) 244–45. 47.  Yadin, Hazor: The Head of All Those Kingdoms, 201. Horowitz and Oshima suggest that the format seems to identify this tablet as a school text. See Cuneiform in Canaan, 73. 48. W. Horowitz, “A Combined Multiplication Table on a Prism Fragment from Hazor,” IEJ 47 (1997) 190 n. 1. 49.  Goren, “Provenance Study,” 34–35. 50.  On the establishment of a scribal school at Hazor, see Horowitz, “Old Babylonian Period Tablets at Hazor,” 7. 51.  Yadin, Hazor: The Head of All Those Kingdoms, 124, 201. 52. A. Ben-Tor, “The Hazor Tablet: Forward,” IEJ 42 (1992) 17.

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Now, Sharon Zuckerman, the co-director of the Hazor excavations also agrees. She believes that the long-sought archive will be found inside the podium or entrance complex of Area M. 53 The discovery of a royal archive at Hazor would be a major breakthrough, rivaling the discovery of the Amarna Tablets and the Dead Sea Scrolls. However, the 18 tablets discovered at Hazor suggest that more than one archive existed there. Chronologically, the tablets point to a Middle Bronze and a Late Bronze archive, but archives were not primarily created based on the time the contents were written. In the ancient Near East an archive represented a repository of cuneiform tablets created for a specific reason or need. Consequently, archives spanned several subgroups: royal, administrative, scribal, temple, and even family or household. In addition, different types of texts would be included within one archive. Hence, an archive could contain religious literature, school texts, legal proceedings, records of past administration action, financial and accounting records, deeds, wills, tax records, census lists for military service, corvée labor, business transactions, and other kinds of genres or types. 54 The genre of a tablet included in an archive depended on the need or purpose of the owner or compiler. Studies of cuneiform tablets following an archival approach have proven to be very fruitful. 55 Therefore, any number of “archives” could be found at Hazor. Akkadian epigraphs were unearthed in the lower city as well as the upper acropolis. A repository of cuneiform tablets is just as likely to be found at the podium complex in Area M as anywhere else on the site. A cache of tablets found together would represent one archive. The random discovery of tablets on the surface of the site or within its archaeological fill suggests that several specialized archives did exist but were afterwards completely or partially scattered. The turn of the archaeological spade may never uncover a complete archive, but the 18 tablets already discovered there clearly point to the reality of a “southwest” cuneiform culture at Hazor. 56 When properly deciphered and studied, these epigraphs humanize the archaeological data. Because they are historical texts, the material remains of Hazor come alive with personal names, vocations, and wages. The researcher learns of political loyalties, exchange rates, and trades. In addition, 53.  Zuckerman, “Where Is the Hazor Archive Buried?,” 36–37. 54. E. Posner, Archives in the Ancient World (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1972) 3. 55.  Ibid., 15; and I. J. Gelb, “Approaches to the Study of Ancient Society,” JAOS 87 (1967) 1–8. 56.  Horowitz, “Old Babylonian Period Tablets at Hazor,” 1–4, 10.

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litigation, travel, future worries, divine pantheons, and other issues of life are described. In short, abstract socioeconomic institutions become real when it is remembered that the individuals who wrote the tablets lived, worked, and died at Hazor more than 3,000 years ago. For the student of the Bible, the value of these texts must not be underestimated. Obviously, none of the biblical writings are directly confirmed by the archival data offered by the cuneiform tablets discovered at Hazor, but much of the material gives valuable background information on the customs of the inhabitants of Hazor in the Middle and Late Bronze Ages. Cuneiform writing brought to Hazor Sumerian-Akkadian culture. The Akkadian epigraphs of Hazor closely resemble the same text types as Mari and Mesopotamia because they were part of the same tradition. Hence, the tablets establish the presence of Mesopotamian culture on Canaanite soil. Indeed, at least in the Middle Bronze period, Hazor was “the furthest southwest extension of the system of Amorite ruled states that included Mari, Qatna, and Eshnunna in Syria, and Hammurapi’s Babylon.” 57 Consequently, what would be the value of finding substantial archives at Hazor? Archival material is a primary source for the historian, the social scientist, and for background information for the biblical interpreter. Hopefully, more tablets like these will help us better understand the “deeds of the land of Canaan” (Lev 18:3). 57.  Ibid., 10.

The Holiness Redaction of the Flood Narrative (Genesis 6:9–9:29) Bill T. Arnold The amount of scholarly effort over the last two centuries investigating the literary unity of the biblical account of the flood is staggering. What may seem at first like a disproportionate amount of attention becomes more understandable when we acknowledge, with almost every scholar who has worked on these chapters, that the account in Genesis 6–9 1 is the best example of the composite nature of the book of Genesis, and that Genesis itself is the key to investigating the sources behind our current Pentateuch. In this investigation, I step onto this much trodden path yet again because I believe recent research on the Priestly materials of the Pentateuch offers a fresh way of understanding what has happened in these chapters. In a recent commentary, I proposed the view that Genesis was compiled by a Holiness redactor using P and non-P materials, whose purpose was to bring together all of Israel’s traditions on the primeval and ancestral ages in a unified whole. 2 In that venue, I could do little more than stake out a position, noting that the nature and provenance of the Priestly materials in Genesis have been much discussed since the mid-1990s. Currently, there is general consensus on the existence of P and H, although much debate surrounds questions on the limits of each and especially the relative dating of each. 3 This last issue is especially pertinent to the research question I Author’s note: I am delighted to offer this essay in honor of Professor Greengus, whose knowledge of the ancient Near East is encyclopedic. Sam is also a wise and patient mentor, and this modest offering is a small token of my esteem and appreciation. 1.  The precise parameters of the “flood narrative” are a matter of interpretation. While I may occasionally use “Genesis 6–9” for convenience, I have in mind specifically Gen 6:9–9:29, clearly marked in the final redaction of the book by the ‫ תולדות‬structuring device. 2.  B. T. Arnold, Genesis (NCBC; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009) 12–18. 3.  As illustrated recently by the diverse views in the studies collected in The Strata of the Priestly Writings: Contemporary Debate and Future Directions (ed. S. Shectman and J. S. Baden; ATANT 95; Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 2009). I will use the siglum “H” here for chapters traditionally identified as the Holiness Code (Leviticus 17–26),

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am addressing here; that is, to what extent was the earlier of these Priestly sources redacted by the later? In other words, assuming that recent work on the sequential priority of P to H is correct, to what extent has a tradent of the Holiness school redacted P? 4 I return to this topic here in order to offer details specific to the flood narrative, especially in order to explore the possibility that an author of the Holiness legislation is responsible for its literary unity. 5

The Flood Narrative in Pentateuchal Research The history of research on the flood narrative is well known and need not detain us here. 6 For our purposes, it will be enough to state succinctly that two conclusions have emerged after nearly two centuries of research. These conclusions—that the flood narrative is a composite account and that it also has a certain literary unity—may appear paradoxical. But as we shall see, they are nevertheless logical corollaries. First, the flood narrative has been identified as the most compelling example in the Pentateuch of the composite nature of the text, especially as it reveals two originally independent narratives. We have in this conclusion a century-long consensus that has enabled scholars to divide and analyze the two sources in great detail, typically accepting them as P and J, or perhaps P and non-P. The extent and nature of the consensus becomes apparent when one compares the assessment of S. R. Driver in 1891 with similar results of the investigation of William Propp in 1996. 7 Table 1 illustrates the extent of P in these chapters according to Driver and Propp. Of course, numerous even though the term code is strictly inappropriate, as well as for the work of authors and redactors belonging to the so-called Holiness school of the Priestly legislation. 4.  I have recently investigated the implications of this approach for the so-called Priestly account of creation in Genesis 1; B. T. Arnold, “Genesis 1 as Holiness Preamble,” in Let Us Go Up to Zion: Essays in Honour of H. G. M. Williamson on the Occasion of His Sixty-Fifth Birthday (ed. I. Provan and M. J. Boda;VTSup 153; Leiden: Brill, 2012) 331–43. 5. For my use of “Holiness legislation” rather than Holiness Code, see B. J. Schwartz, “The Strata of the Priestly Writings and the Revised Relative Dating of P and H,” in The Strata of the Priestly Writings: Contemporary Debate and Future Directions (ed. S. Shectman and J. S. Baden; ATANT 95; Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 2009) 1–12, esp. pp. 6–7; J. Stackert, Rewriting the Torah: Literary Revision in Deuteronomy and the Holiness Legislation (FAT 52; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007) 2. 6.  The history of research on the flood narrative is often summarized: e.g., E. W. Nicholson, The Pentateuch in the Twentieth Century: The Legacy of Julius Wellhausen (Oxford: Clarendon, 1998) 205–7; D. M. Carr, Reading the Fractures of Genesis: Historical and Literary Approaches (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1996) 48–62. 7.  S. R. Driver, An Introduction to the Literature of the Old Testament (9th ed.;

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Table 1. The Extent of P in the Flood Narrative Driver Gen 6:9–22 Gen 7:6, 11, 13–16a, 17a (except “forty days”), 18–21, 24 Gen 8:1–2a, 3b–5, 13a, 14–19 Gen 9:1–17, 28–29

Propp Gen 6:9–22 Gen 7:8–9, 11, 13–16a, 21, 24 Gen 8:1–2a, 3b–5, 7, 13a, 14–19 Gen 9:1–17

methodologies appeared in the century between Driver and Propp, and it must be acknowledged that many scholars investigated the flood narrative from perspectives that did not assume source analysis. But for those who did, precious little changed. Second, investigation of the flood narrative has concluded, with somewhat less confidence, that whatever degree of unity we have in the present account of the flood is the result of editorial work. If one believes the two sources were originally independent, then ex hypothesi, one also believes they have been combined by a redactor. On the other hand, some scholars have argued instead that one of the original sources depended on the other and was responsible for expansions and interpolations of the older account, most assuming the P account is dependent on the J material. In either case, redactional activity—either by a third hand or by the hand of P or J—was responsible for the unity we now have. Numerous attempts have been made to refute the hypothesis that the present flood narrative is the result of the combination by a redactor of material from J and P, informed by newer literary or linguistic methodologies or by ideological conservatism. But none of these approaches have successfully dislodged the two-source hypothesis as the best explanation currently available. 8 Of the more serious attempts to refute the hypothesis assumed here, special mention is required on the views of John Van Seters, who has argued instead that the flood narrative is essentially the work of the Yahwist, embellished by and supplemented with P interpolations having to do mostly with the chronology of the flood and the number of animals taken into ITL; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1961) 11; W. H. C. Propp, “The Priestly Source Recovered Intact?” VT 46 (1996) 458–78,esp. p. 477. 8.  Examination of five such attempts—those of Umberto Cassuto, Eduard Nielsen, Francis I. Andersen, Gordon J. Wenham, and Yehuda T. Radday—by Emerton remains an important study of this topic; J. A. Emerton, “An Examination of Some Attempts to Defend the Unity of the Flood Narrative in Genesis: Part I,” VT 37 (1987) 401–20; J. A. Emerton, “An Examination of Some Attempts to Defend the Unity of the Flood Narrative in Genesis: Part II,” VT 38 (1988) 1–21.

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the ark. 9 No further editorial work was needed, in his view. This approach, however, is inextricably connected to (a) Van Seters’s denial of redactional or editorial activity altogether and (b) his late dating of the J document, which relies heavily on the assumption that the Priestly law can only be a product of Second Temple Judaism. 10 In addition, his redefinition of the basic criteria for source analysis, especially the use of ‫ אלהים‬by the Yahwist, needs to be reexamined carefully. While Van Seters has found adherents among some, most notably Erhard Blum and Christoph Levin, his opening assumptions are open to serious critique. 11 Before turning to a reassessment of the text, it may be helpful to state clearly my working hypothesis about the relation between the flood accounts of the two sources, J and P. Although not necessarily a consensus view, I think the approach that best matches the evidence we have before us is to assume that these two flood accounts developed independently of each other. That is to say, they were composed independently of each other and preserved for a period of time impossible for us to determine, before being edited and combined in our current account. I grant that a strong case has been made to the contrary by David M. Carr that the P account is dependent on an older J account, based (a) on alleged expansions of P to match J’s general framework and (b) on P’s dating system, which is said to imitate the older J account. 12 However, I believe these features may just as easily be 9. J. Van Seters, Prologue to History: The Yahwist as Historian in Genesis (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1992) 160–65. 10.  On his first assumption regarding editorial activity in the Hebrew Bible, see J. Van Seters, “The Redactor in Biblical Studies: A Nineteenth Century Anachronism,” JNSL 29 (2000) 12–19; J. Van Seters, The Edited Bible: The Curious History of the “Editor” in Biblical Criticism (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006). On the second assumption regarding the postexilic origins of pentateuchal laws, see J. Van Seters, A Law Book for the Diaspora: Revision in the Study of the Covenant Code (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), in which even the Covenant Code, long considered critical to our understanding of preexilic Israelite religion, is described as an exilic composition, a monument of Diaspora Judaism. For critique of Van Seters’s approach on this last point, see B. M. Levinson, “Is the Covenant Code an Exilic Composition? A Response to John Van Seters,” in In Search of Pre-Exilic Israel: Proceedings of the Oxford Old Testament Seminar (ed. J. Day; JSOTSup 406; London: T. & T. Clark, 2004) 272–325, esp. pp. 275–88. 11.  For summary, see G. J. Wenham, “Pondering the Pentateuch: The Search for a New Paradigm,” in The Face of Old Testament Studies: A Survey of Contemporary Approaches (ed. D. W. Baker and B. T. Arnold; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1999) 116–44, (esp. pp.  121–29). The best statement on the role of the law in ancient Israel’s religion is M. Weinfeld, The Place of the Law in the Religion of Ancient Israel (VTSup 100; Leiden: Brill, 2004), see esp. pp. 3–15. 12.  Carr, Reading the Fractures, 60–61.

The Holiness Redaction of the Flood Narrative

17

explained, and perhaps more economically be explained, as the result of redactional activity in the process of conflating the two sources. I will draw attention to these cases in the analysis of the text below. One additional disclosure about my methodological assumptions is needed before proceeding. In recent years, I have been much impressed by the arguments that (a) P predates D, and in fact may be contemporary with J, and that (b) much of P has been edited by H. Although a number of scholars moved in this direction earlier, pride of place must now be given to Israel Knohl for his work The Sanctuary of Silence, which I consider a tour de force not only challenging long-held assumptions, but establishing a new paradigm. 13 Among other important contributions, Knohl has argued that the Holiness School, which of course produced the Holiness Code (Leviticus 17–26), edited certain P materials in its own composition, and therefore is later than P. 14 Ultimately, Knohl identfied the authors and editors of the Holiness School not only as a pentateuchal source but as the last redactors of the Pentateuch. Once the literary and ideological distinctives of the Holiness School became clearer along the lines of Knohl, scholars began to discern additional passages elsewhere in the Pentateuch beyond Leviticus 17–26 that were identified as Holiness compositions or editorial links. 15 Focusing in particular on the idea of holiness and instances of the phrase “I am Yhwh (your God),” scholars reexamined passages such as Exod 6:6–8 and Leviticus 11, exploring the role of H in the final redaction of these important texts. Knohl eventually credits H for much of the books of Exodus and Numbers. 16 He allows much less H activity in the book of Genesis, although he attributes certain expressions in the covenant with 13. I. Knohl, The Sanctuary of Silence: The Priestly Torah and the Holiness School (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995). An early version of ch. 1 of this book detailed Knohl’s views in English in 1987: “The Priestly Torah Versus the Holiness School: Sabbath and the Festivals,” HUCA 58 (1987) 65–117. His predecessors included, of course, Yehezkel Kaufmann, but also Menahem Haran, Jacob Milgrom, and Moshe Weinfeld, and from a linguistic approach, Avi Hurvitz. These had diverse emphases and their arguments cannot be said to be monolithic. 14.  So, for example, the composition of Leviticus 23 reflects the Holiness School’s expansion and reinforcement of earlier Priestly instructions for the Day of Atonement and illustrates that Holiness editors have used P materials reworked according to the distinctive ideas and style of the Holiness School (Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 8–14). By contrast, Knohl argues P never edits or incorporates H. 15.  Earlier, a variety of approaches were used to explain H passages outside Leviticus 17–26; ibid., 2–3. 16.  On the Holiness School’s contributions to the final form of Exodus, see ibid., 60–68; and on Numbers, see 71–101. In general, H’s editorial intrusions in J’s legal materials are more modest, whereas H freely revises and rewrites P, accepting P as “its

18

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Abraham in Genesis 17 to the Holiness School. 17 In light of renewed explorations of H’s redactional activity in the Pentateuch, Jacob Milgrom argued initially that the sabbath etiology of Gen 2:2–3 was a Holiness insertion in an older P composition but eventually concluded that all of Genesis 1 is to be attributed to a Holiness redactor. 18 I am in agreement that the Holiness authors and editors are more present in Genesis than we often imagine, and turn now to the flood narrative with this question in view. 19

Observations on the Priestly Traditions of the Flood Narrative The beginning of the flood narrative is itself an interesting dilemma. For the sake of convenience, I have chosen to begin this survey with the ‫ תולדות‬passage at 6:9 as the official beginning of the unit. Yet the two paragraphs before it, the account of divine-human marriages (6:1–4) and divine motivation for the flood (6:5–8), each raise interesting questions. Both are non-P materials, with the possible exception of the list of animals at 6:7b. The official explanation for the flood in J (6:5–8) appears to have been cut away from the flood narrative proper by the editor of Genesis in order to introduce the flood account formally by the ‫ תולדות‬clause, which is so central to the overall structure of Genesis. 20 guiding spiritual source,” so that H editors saw themselves as “innovators of the basic platform of the Priestly code” (ibid., 102). 17.  Ibid., 60 and 102, and esp. n. 145. 18. Although Milgrom did not investigate this possibility beyond passing references; J. Milgrom, “The Case for the Pre-Exilic and Exilic Provenance of the Books of Exodus, Leviticus and Numbers,” in Reading the Law: Studies in Honour of Gordon J. Wenham (ed. J. G. McConville and K. Möller; LHBOTS 461; New York: T. & T. Clark, 2007) 48–56, esp. p. 56. Earlier, Yairah Amit had proposed something similar for Genesis 1, as had Edwin Firmage; Y. Amit, “Creation and the Calendar of Holiness,” in Tehillah le-Moshe: Biblical and Judaic Studies in Honor of Moshe Greenberg (ed. M. Cogan, B. L. Eichler and J. H. Tigay; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1997) 13–29 (Heb., with English summary, pp. 315–16); E. Firmage, “Genesis 1 and the Priestly Agenda,” JSOT 82 (1999) 97–114. Cooper and Goldstein largely followed Amit and Firmage; A. Cooper and B. R. Goldstein, “The Development of the Priestly Calendars (I): The Daily Sacrifice and the Sabbath,” HUCA 74 (2003) 1–20 (esp. pp. 5 and 13–14). My own research has argued on the basis of several observations that Genesis 1 is entirely a new composition; Arnold, “Genesis 1.” 19.  For a different approach to the flood narrative, see the contribution in this volume by Angela Roskop Erisman (“Mythologizing the Exile: Life, Law, and Justice after the Flood,” pp. 95–110), who also concludes independently that redactors of the Holiness School may have had a larger role than we previously thought. 20.  Arnold, Genesis, 89, and see the introduction to this commentary for the argument that H is responsible for the ‫ תולדות‬redactional device, pp. 4–7 and 16–17.

The Holiness Redaction of the Flood Narrative

19

(1)  Genesis 6:9–10: The Holiness Introduction Most critical scholars have attributed the ‫ תולדות‬structuring clause in Genesis to P. 21 In a departure from this consensus approach, I have argued elsewhere that it has been derived as a rhetorical device (for metaphor and narrative uses) from the more narrow genealogical function, as illustrated at Gen 5:1, “This is the list of the descendants of Adam.” 22 This appearance is different from the others in Genesis by the addition of the word “list” (“document, scroll,” ‫)ספר‬, which is probably the most ancient title for genealogies. The other ‫ תולדות‬clauses in Genesis appear derived from this one, which I consider older than the rest and attributable to P. In fact, I think it likely that 5:1 is the opening clause of a document that we may identify as P itself. It may at first glance appear a safe conclusion to take 6:9b, the assessment of Noah’s moral character, as P, in light of the shared terminology with 5:22 and 24. I think it unlikely, however, that a P source has interrupted itself, after the ‫ תולדות‬clause, to resume the narrative about Noah with new information omitted at 5:29. That verse inserts a quote in the genealogy of Noah’s father, Lamech, using an epic narrative Yahwistic-like birth announcement to introduce Noah at the tenth generation as an important character who would somehow reverse the curse of humanity (compare the terminology of 5:29 with 3:17–19). Yet the author of 6:9 felt that Lamech’s characterization was insufficient to explain Noah’s favored role in the flood narrative. Moreover, this editor was likely aware of J’s characterization as “righteous” before Yahweh among all his generation (7:1). The interpolation of 6:9 is aware of the preceding Priestly text in Genesis 5 and anticipates the Yahwistic text in Genesis 7. This author is tying together the previous P material with the J narrative to come. And he has done so by borrowing terminology from both. He merges the “righteous” assessment of J (7:1) with Noah’s God-walking character from P (5:22, 24). 23 The recurrence of Noah’s three sons seems superfluous in this context (6:10). They have been introduced at 5:32, and will appear later in the flood narrative at 7:13, 9:18, and of course will play central roles in the story of Noah’s drunkenness (9:20–27). Yet the author of 6:10 is anticipating the 21.  E. A. Speiser, Genesis: A New Translation with Introduction, Notes, and Commentary (AB 1; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1964) xxiv; C. Westermann, Genesis 1–11: A Commentary (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1984) 8. 22.  Arnold, Genesis, 4–7 and 16–18. 23.  The function of Genesis 1 as a preparation for other materials in the Torah, especially as a supplement and slight corrective to the J creation account in Gen 2–3 illustrates how the Holiness redactor often functioned; Arnold, “Genesis 1.”

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divine speech of 6:18 in the familiar words “you, your sons, your wife, and your sons’ wives with you.” Consequently, I take the repetition of the three sons at 6:10 as a case of Wiederaufnahme, or repetitive resumption following the interlude of 6:1–8, preparing the reader for the rest of the narrative. 24 The reuse of P’s language in 6:10, as well as the reuse of “walked with God” in 6:9, is understandable once we fully appreciate the extent to which H was inspired by P’s terminology and wished to continue P’s ideological agenda. 25 Although beyond the scope of this essay, it might also be worth exploring how H’s interpolation at 6:9, highlighting the character of Noah, fits into H’s mission as identifed by Knohl as attempting to move the Priestly agenda beyond the purely cultic interests of the Priestly elites to a more ethical perception.

(2)  Genesis 6:11–22: The Holiness Justification of and Instructions for the Flood Admittedly, language, vocabulary, and literary style are not consistently reliable indicators for source distinction. Yet the distinctions between Priestly style and the Pentateuch’s epic narrative, conventionally identified as the Yahwist, are undeniable, as are the linguistic and phraseological distinctives of the Holiness Code (Leviticus 17–26). 26 Beyond these we move into a less-certain realm. Knohl’s investigation has established certain contributions of the Holiness authors in the composition of the Pentateuch extending beyond the Holiness Code (especially in Exodus and Numbers), and he has convincingly distinguished between characteristics of the code proper from H’s literary activity elsewhere in an editorial stratum. 27 Thus, we may speak of H’s characteristics in the Holiness Code itself, and beyond it in editorial interpolations elsewhere in the Pentateuch. The question becomes, of course, what is the extent of H’s literary activity. Previous scholarship failed to consider this possibility at all because the extent of the Holiness School was restricted to Leviticus 17–26; no further literary creativity was even considered. H’s style is similar to P, and is even dependent on it in many ways, especially as distinct from J and D characteristics. But the language of H also shares similarities with that of J, especially in its edi24.  A rhetorical feature that is almost always editorial; B. M. Levinson, Deuteronomy and the Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997) 18. 25.  At least to an extent; Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 102. 26.  Ibid., 1–2 n. 3. 27.  For more on the literary characteristics discussed in this paragraph, see ibid., 56–58 and 101–10.

The Holiness Redaction of the Flood Narrative

21

torial stratum (and in Ezekiel, as Knohl has shown). 28 Beyond phraseology, H also exhibits a moralizing tone lacking in P, and evident, again, in the editorial layers. If I am right about my assessment of H’s introduction to the flood narrative, this moralizing ideology appears already in the characterization of Noah in 6:9. In general, my proposal is that Knohl and subsequent scholars who follow his approach have not given enough consideration to the possibility that much of the narrative material in Genesis is a result of H’s editorial activity and creativity instead of P, as is most often assumed. 29 These opening paragraphs of the Priestly narration of the flood present an interesting question. What style, language, or theology requires a P identification over and against that of H? Is there compelling reason to continue to assign this text to P, or do we now have reason to consider it H’s contribution to the flood account? The justification for the flood in 6:11–12 matches that of J in 6:5–8. Rather than being satisfied with J’s focus on the wickedness of the human heart, this text emphasizes the corruption of “the land” (‫)הארץ‬. Defilement of the land is a central concern of the Holiness Code, and while the specific phraseology is different here (‫ שחת‬in both H- and N-stems, and extensive presence of violence, ‫חמס‬, in the land), the thematic focus on land may be instructive. 30 Perhaps this justification of the flood prepares for and builds support for H’s emphasis on the land in the Holiness Code itself. A more direct clue occurs in God’s speech in 6:17, in the declaration “For my part, I am going to bring a flood of waters upon the earth” (‫ואני‬ 28.  Although not stated as such in Knohl’s analysis, one can detect a principle that we might call “editorial attraction” in the redactional stratum of H, in which the authors/editors of the H school were drawn to the phraseology and style of the sources before them. 29.  Thomas J. King raises once again the clear distinctions between Priestly legal material in Exodus–Numbers, on the one hand, and the Priestly narrative in Genesis (extending to Exodus 6). However, his proposal that the Priestly materials of Genesis, which are traditionally thought of as P, originally comprised a distinct document with a northern provenience of the 8th century b.c.e., his PN, is unconvincing. T. J. King, The Realignment of the Priestly Literature: The Priestly Narrative in Genesis and Its Relation to Priestly Legislation and the Holiness School (PRTMS 102; Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2009). 30.  For phraseological specifics in the Holiness Code, see J. Joosten, People and Land in the Holiness Code: An Exegetical Study of the Ideational Framework of the Law in Leviticus 17–26 (VTSup 67; Leiden: Brill, 1996) 137–92. In our passage, divine punishment matches perfectly the crime (H-stem of ‫ שחת‬in both cases, cf. 6:13), which may reflect J’s literary influence on H at this point.

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‫)הנני מביא את־המבול מים על־הארץ‬. 31 The use of the divine ‫“( אני‬I”), the first independent personal pronoun in God’s direct address has long been identified as characteristic of the Holiness code itself, especially in the phrase, “I am Yhwh,” but also in expressions of divine anger and punishment in the Holiness editorial stratum of the Pentateuch. 32 The striking fact is that ‫ אני‬never appears in divine speech in P materials in Exodus–Numbers, and only five times in the book of Genesis (6:17; 9:9, 12; 17:1, 4). 33 Rather than consider these exceptional cases, as Knohl is forced to do, perhaps we should consider these as genuine Holiness compositions, which would better explain the linguistic evidence. At 6:18, we come to the covenant that God establishes with Noah. 34 As has been widely discussed, P has no covenant ceremony or use of the term ‫ ברית‬in its description of the revelation at Sinai. 35 Rather than a ‫ברית‬-­ covenant, P prefers instead to identify the relationship as an ‫עדות‬, “testimony, witness, treaty.” 36 I will reserve further comment until my treatment of 9:8–17. Suffice to say here that it may be simpler to accept this description of the Noah covenant as a Holiness composition rather than to attempt to explain why P eschews the ‫ברית‬-covenant so assiduously in Exodus–Numbers, but embraces it so thoroughly (twice) in the flood account. As additional preparation for the flood, God instructs Noah to bring two of every kind of animal—male and female—into the ark: birds, cattle, and animals that creep along the ground, all “according to their kinds” (‫ למינּה‬/ ‫ ;למינהו‬6:19–20). We have in the Hebrew Bible a threefold primary-­ level taxa for the animal kingdom: aquatic animals, aerial animals, and land animals. However, this threefold schema is complicated by two simple facts. First, the Bible reflects no uniformity of terms for animal types between passages, which leads second to the observation that several taxonomic schemas are possible and in fact are used variously throughout the text. So, 31.  The use of casus pendens here may also be a characteristic of H’s style. 32.  Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 107–8. 33.  Knohl takes these to be exceptional cases of the pronoun in P’s divine speech and attributes their use in Genesis to the differences in divine revelation before and after the revelation of the name of Yahweh (ibid., 86 n. 78 and pp. 125–28). 34.  On the assumption that 6:11–22 is a Holiness composition, the command for Noah to enter the ark with his sons, his wife, and his sons’ wives with him (6:18) would necessarily be preparatory for 7:7, which I take to be original with P. 35.  The sole exception is often cited as Exod 31:16, although Knohl has identified this passage as of “JE origin” and “edited by HS”; ibid., 104–5. 36.  DCH 6:279; H. Simian-Yofre, “‫עוד‬,” TDOT 10:495–515 (esp. 512–15). The term is routinely said to imply a unilateral demand as opposed to the bilateral agreement implicit in ‫ ;ברית‬see Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 144.

The Holiness Redaction of the Flood Narrative

23

for example, here we have a fourfold primary-level division of the animal kingdom, which is truncated by the absence of aquatic animals (for obvious reasons in a flood narrative): aerial animals, high-carriage land animals (‫)בהמה‬, and low-carriage land animals (‫)רמש‬. 37 We shall return to this topic as we encounter further animal lists below.

(3)  Genesis 7:6–7: P’s Account of the Beginning of the Flood, Part 1 The genealogical details are continued from 5:32. The age of Noah is a characteristic of P’s account, carried over from Genesis 5, and reflects an original P account with minimal narration. The Holiness redactor, who often functions as much as an author here as an editor, has broken apart the brief genealogical note on Noah and expanded it considerably in order to supplement the J account and prepare the reader for details important to the Holiness agenda elsewhere in the Pentateuch. The simple narration including Noah’s family—sons, wife, and sons’ wives—has been anticipated by H’s narrative in 6:18. (4)  Genesis 7:8–10: H’s Supplement to the Beginning of the Flood The Holiness redactor considered P’s brief narrative inadequate, and thus added this note on the animals (7:8–9). Like the previous list in 6:19– 20, the redactor has used a fourfold primary-level division of the animal kingdom, truncated by the absence of aquatic animals: aerial animals, high-carriage land animals, and low-carriage land animals. New here is H’s adoption of J’s clean/unclean dichotomy introduced at 7:2. No such distinction was included at 6:19–20, but after folding J’s instructions to Noah into the overall account, H has adopted this additional descriptor—clean and unclean—as a means of merging the two older accounts, J and P. The final notation about the arrival of the flood waters after seven days (7:10) also lifts a detail from the J account (7:4) in order to bring H’s revised P version closer to the older J account. (5)  Genesis 7:11: P’s Account of the Beginning of the Flood, Part 2 P’s account of the beginning of the flood was interrupted by H interpolations (7:8–10). The voice of P returns in the genealogical details, especially 37.  See R. Whitekettle, “Where the Wild Things Are: Primary Level Taxa in Israelite Zoological Thought,” JSOT 93 (2001) 17–37, esp. pp. 24–27, for this truncated fourfold division. The appearance of the same truncated fourfold schema at 6:7 may be a Holiness redactor’s preparatory interpolation.

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in the age of Noah, which is given in the so-called long form. 38 Many have commented on the precision of P’s dating system, which will continue at 8:3b–5 below. 39

(6)  Genesis 7:13–16: H’s Clarification of the Beginning of the Flood After J’s notation about the length of the flood—40 days and 40 nights (7:12)— the Holiness redactor returns to record the entrance into the ark of Noah, his family, and the animals. The editor takes pains to show it was “on the very same day” (‫בעצם היום הזה‬, 7:13), presumably the 17th day of the second month of Noah’s 600th year (“on that day,” ‫ביום הזה‬, 7:11). The editor overburdened the text in this way presumably because J’s “40 days and 40 nights” in 7:12 introduced the possibility of ambiguity. Again, we see that H’s interpolations are secondary to both J’s and P’s accounts. A phenomenon for which I have no explanation is the variation of animals listed in 7:14. Instead of the truncated fourfold taxonomy used at 6:19–20 and 7:8–9, we have here a fivefold division with three land animal classes, truncated again by the absence of aquatic animals: high carriage wild land animals (‫)חיה‬, domesticated land animals (‫)בהמה‬, low carriage wild land animals (‫)רמש‬, and aerial animals. 40 The inclusion of wild land animals (‫ )חיה‬may be a simple variation of H’s animal taxonomy. Otherwise, we can detect no unlinear development in the use of various taxonomic schemas, and we have no evidence for isolated or competing schemas reflected in diverse sources. Simpler schemas were not abandoned once more advanced and sophisticated ones were developed. 41 The tagline at 7:16b, “the Lord shut him in,” may be a J fragment included here as part of the continuation of J’s account in 7:17–24. (7)  Genesis 7:17–24: H’s Expansion of J’s Account of the Flood Following the tagline at 7:16b (perhaps J), the next extended portion of narrative appears to be the Holiness editors adaptation and expansion of J’s original account of the flood. Opinions vary about the sources in this paragraph, with most researchers concluding we have here a conflation of 38.  That is, with ‫ בחדש‬written instead of omitted in a simple prepositional phrase, the so-called short form. For these definitions and examples, see Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 19 (esp. n. 29). The short form also appears occasionally in P (e.g., 8:13), meaning this variation in the dating system is less than a consistent foundation for further source distinction. 39.  For discussion and bibliography, see Westermann, Genesis 1–11, 432–33. 40.  Whitekettle, “Wild Things,” 29–30. 41.  Ibid., 34.

The Holiness Redaction of the Flood Narrative

25

J and P materials. I propose here instead that the strands we detect as J in these verses have been elaborated systematically by H. The mention of “40 days” in 7:17 identifies it as J. The next statements revise the extent and nature of the rising flood-waters, in order to show that every peak of the land was covered by the water (7:18–20), which is likely H’s expansion. Another J excerpt is found in 7:22, in the assertion that everything on dry land expired, everything in whose nostrils was the breath of life. The Holiness redactor no doubt considered this inadequate, and prefaced the statement with another list of animals that died in the flood (7:21). The same truncated fivefold schema occurs here as we saw in 7:14: high-carriage wild land animals, domesticated land animals, low-carriage wild land animals, and aerial animals. 42 The list of animals at 7:23 reverts to J’s account, using the general term ‫יקום‬, “living form, stock (of living beings).” 43 The return to the simple version (without “according to their kinds”) of the fourfold primary level taxonomy, again truncated (high-carriage land animals, low-carriage land animals, and aerials animals) may be H’s interpolation or may be J’s ori­ ginal. I favor the latter option because the list of animals in 7:2–4 contains the simpler threefold taxonomy of land animals (clean or unclean), aerial animals, and aquatic animals (truncated). Tentatively, we may suggest this simpler notation in 7:2–4 was J’s understanding of the animal kingdom, and the fuller fourfold schema was H’s. The closing reference to “150 days” is H’s contribution to the chronology of the flood (7:24). It seems likely the editor has offered this calculation based on P’s original notations centering on Noah’s life, tracing five months from the coming of the flood (7:11) to the resting of the ark on mount Ararat (8:4). Both of these benchmarks are original to P, so that H has simply attempted to clarify the chronology.

(8)  Genesis 8:1–5: H’s Announcement That the Flood Ends, Using J and P Fragments 44 The consensus opinion has it that 8:1–2a is P, interrupted by a J fragment in 8:2b and 8:3a, and then resumed in 8:3b–5. The J fragment would then be as follows: 42.  This approach assumes that ‫ שרץ‬and ‫ רמש‬are synonymous, both indicating low-carriage wild animals; ibid., 27 n. 17. 43.  DCH 4:273; HALOT 2:430; a term appearing only three times in the Bible, here, 7:4, and Deut 11:6. 44.  Atomistic distinctions between J and P within half- or quarter-verses or smaller phrases in these portions of the flood narrative are entirely possible, but I consider them

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Bill T. Arnold the rain from the heavens was restrained, and the waters gradually receded from the earth. (8:2b–3a)

We have precise phraseological reasons for accepting this admittedly contorted theory, and it has longstanding acceptance. The reference to “rain” (‫ )גשם‬is J’s storyline picked up from 7:12, and the rest of the line (8:3b) is J’s account of the receding waters. If correct, this is precisely the sort of intricate editorial work that must be accredited to someone with an overarching agenda. Elsewhere in the paragraph, the doubly truncated list of only wild animals and domesticated animals at 8:1 (omitting both aerial and aquatic animals) strikes one as underdeveloped in light of other lists in the flood narrative, and makes sense as part of P’s attenuated account. This would also explain H’s multiple other lists, as a means of supplementing P’s account, which he would have taken as inadequately stated although unassailable in authority. H is also likely responsible for inserting again the chronological reference to 150 days in 8:3b, prefacing as it does P’s original dating system in 8:4. 45

(9)  Genesis 8:13–14: P’s Announcement of the End of the Flood The voice of P returns in its precise dating system. 46 Unlike the elaborate avian testing system of J’s account (8:6–12), P simply notes that Noah was able to uncover the ark and observe the dry ground on the first day of the first month of year 601. Falling as it does on New Year’s Day, the day on which the flood waters disappeared marks a new world era, the postdiluvial age. 47 On the 27th day of the next month, the drying process was complete (8:14).

(10)  Genesis 8:15–17: H’s Supplement to the Departure from the Ark In this reconstruction, the Holiness editor was relying on an older Priestly source that recorded Noah’s departure from the ark with his family beyond our reach for analysis. As an example, see Westermann, Genesis 1–11, 441–43 and 449–50. In this brief survey, I limit my observations to the broadest assessment possible, while acknowledging certain distinctions that I consider undeniable. 45.  In this instance in 8:4, P has again used the so-called long form of its dating system. 46.  J’s account in 8:6–12 has the most extensive parallels with the Gilgamesh flood account. 47.  Ibid., 450.

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27

and the animals (8:18–19). The distinctives of the H redactor return here in vv. 15–17 to supplement and respond to that older source. As we have seen, the Israelites’ taxonomic system for the animal kingdom was complex and fluid. I fully recognize that any observation linking these differences with source analysis must necessarily remain tentative. Nevertheless, the distinctives of God’s command to Noah at 8:17 seem to support other criteria at work, and may be suggestive. The Holiness editor anticipates the Priestly narration at 8:19, in which a truncated division of the animals (again, lacking the aquatic category) lists only high-carriage land animals (‫)חיה‬, low-carriage land animals (‫)רמש‬, and aerial animals (‫)עוף‬. It has been suggested that this represents a twofold primary level division into terrestrial animals and aquatic animals. 48 Such a twofold taxonomy would have been considered inadequate from the point of view of a later Holiness redactor. Assuming Leviticus 11 is in view, this editor is preparing for that important text. 49 In order to make this point, I must digress only for a comment about the taxonomic schemas of Leviticus 11. The final form of the chapter juxtaposes two distinct fourfold divisions of the animal kingdom. 50 But an important distinction is discernible in that chapter. The first section (11:2b–23) has a fourfold division oddly with two aerial taxa (two-legged aerial animals and six-legged aerial animals). The rest of the chapter also has a fourfold division, but always with at least two land animal categories. One explanation is that a final Holiness editor has adopted older Priestly material (11:2b–23), but added his own instructions thereafter, using a slightly different taxonomy. If we are right about a Holiness redactor stepping in at Gen 8:15–17, the purpose is to clarify the twofold taxonomic schema used in 8:19. God directs Noah to bring out the animals using a fourfold division with two land animals, which appears to be H’s preferred taxonomy (as illustrated in Leviticus 11). This proposal may also find support in the opening phrase, “every living thing that is with you of all flesh” (8:17). The inclusion “of all flesh” (‫מכל־‬ ‫ )בשר‬may subtly correct the lack of a full-bodied animal taxonomy in P’s closing statement in 8:19. 51 48.  Whitekettle, “Wild Things,” 35–36. 49.  As we shall see, the move from vegetarianism to meat eating was likely also a move made by the Holiness author (9:1–7). 50.  See ibid., 31–33, for this assessment. 51.  Because I have argued elsewhere that Genesis 1 is a Holiness composition, the “be fruitful” and “multiply” phraseology here may also indicate Holiness themes, as below at 9:1.

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(11)  Genesis 8:18–19: P’s Conclusion of the Flood Narrative The voice of P returns to narrate Noah’s departure from the ark, together with his family and the animals. This statement flows naturally from the last statement of P at 8:14: “In the second month, on the 27th day of the month, the earth was dry.” We have seen how P’s twofold primary animal taxonomy at 8:19 was considered insufficient by the Holiness editor and expanded at 8:17. We note here only the additional observation, also characteristic of P, that the animals disembarked “by families” (‫)למשפחתיהם‬. While absent thus far in the flood narrative, it is entirely fitting in P’s conclusion and leads naturally to the recurring use of that phrase in Genesis 10 when detailing the descendants of Noah according to their “families” (10:5, 18, 20, 31, 32; compare also recurrences in the book of Numbers, especially chs. 1, 3, 4, and 26). We should also note that P’s conclusion is quite logically and naturally juxtaposed here with J’s own conclusion in 8:20–22. The two accounts are parallel in that P concludes by associating the end of the flood with a fixed temporal cycle in the observation of New Year’s Day (8:13), while J associates it with the fixing of the natural cycle of the seasons, “seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night” (8:22). 52 (12)  Genesis 9:1–7: H’s Post-flood Blessing and Changes of the Dietary Law I have identified Gen 8:13–14, together with its continuation in 8:18– 19 as P’s conclusion to the flood narrative generally. While Gen 9:1–17 is nearly universally accepted as P, I propose here taking these paragraphs as contributions of a Holiness redactional stratum. God’s blessing of Noah, with its distinctive terminology of fecundity (“be fruitful and multiply,” 9:1 and 7) likely has a genetic relationship with Gen 1:22 and 28, as well as 8:17 (which I have categorized above as H). I have argued elsewhere that an H redactor—functioning more as an author in this case—wrote Genesis 1 essentially as we have it now as a new composition to serve as a prologue for J’s account of creation in Genesis 2. 53 If correct, the use of this style and phraseology is not surprising in H’s narration in 9:1–7. While routinely assigned to P, this phraseology and style appear to be more characteristic of H’s redactional stratum. 54 The move from vegetarianism to meat-eating is also attributable to H’s editorial activity. In previous research on Genesis 1, I concluded its Ho52.  Westermann, Genesis 1–11, 450–51. 53.  Arnold, “Genesis 1.” 54.  True also for the “image” of God statement in 9:6.

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29

liness author felt a particular need to prepare the reader for the dietary restrictions of Leviticus 11, which J’s creation account of Genesis 2 had not properly done. The J account assumed a vegetarian diet for the first human couple (2:16), while animals were created for the sole purpose of human companionship (2:18–19). The Holiness correction in Genesis 1 perceived the J approach as inadequate primarily because of its failure to distinguish properly among the various sorts of animals, which would of course provide for the proper distinctions between acceptable and unacceptable animals for consumption. And yet the older J creation account was perceived as unassailable in authority both for the editor and his audience. Therefore, Genesis 1 uses a more complex animal taxonomy in preparation for Leviticus 11. A similar motive is behind the Holiness redactional stratum here. Thus far, the creation accounts and flood narrative have not established a reasonable explanation for meat consumption, especially in light of J’s vegetarianism. Our author prepares the reader for subsequent dietary laws, especially as presented in Leviticus 11, and the Holiness Code proper. Without a specific concession to meat consumption, readers of the Pentateuch have not been adequately prepared for the instruction, “among all the land animals, these are the creatures that you may eat” (Lev 11:2). In H’s post-flood new world order, God grants permission to eat anything alive (or at least, anything that “moves” ‫רמש‬, 9:3), which is followed by two simple restrictions. First, animal flesh cannot be consumed together with its lifeblood, and second, God will require a reckoning of any lifeblood, especially that of human life. 55 The Holiness redactor’s concession for meat consumption appears to be motivated by concerns in later Holiness texts, especially the Holiness Code’s prohibition against eating blood (Lev 17:10–13; 19:26), and of course its restrictions on the shedding of innocent blood (17:3–4, and compare. 19:16). 56 Thus, by incremental steps, the Holiness authors and editors establish dietary law that bring humans from vegetarianism (Genesis 1), to near unrestricted meat-eating (Gen 9:3–6), and finally, to a dietary law that distinguishes Israelites from their neighbors (Leviticus 11). As such, this development of the dietary law represents “the culmination of a progression in holiness, by which God had brought a people by steps to enjoy unprecedented proximity to himself.” 57 55. See Westermann, Genesis 1–11, 464–65; Arnold, Genesis, 109–10. 56.  Admitting, of course, that similar concerns are shared elsewhere in the Pentateuch’s legal material (Lev 3:17; 7:26–27; Deut 12:15–16, etc.). 57. E. Firmage, “The Biblical Dietary Laws and the Concept of Holiness,” in Studies in the Pentateuch (ed. J. A. Emerton; VTSup 41; Leiden: Brill, 1990) 177–208 (esp. p. 197).

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The taxonomic schema of 9:2 is also illuminating, because it returns to the fourfold division (with two land animals) we have come to expect for H’s interpolations: high-carriage land animals, low-carriage land animals, aerial animals, and aquatic animals. 58 As we have seen, this is H’s preference for sorting out the animal kingdom, which then becomes a subtle corrective for the less developed P and J taxonomic schemas (Lev 11:46; 20:25; and if my approach is correct, Gen 1:26, 30; 6:7, 20; 7:8, 23; and 8:17).

(13)  Genesis 9:8–17: H’s Post-flood Covenant This paragraph, of course, is also assumed by most scholars to be attributable to P. But the presence of Noah’s ‫ברית‬-covenant so prominently featured in P has always been an unsettling feature of this account, and been the object of endless speculation (as opposed to P’s preferred nomenclature, ‫עדות‬, “testimony, witness”). For example, Knohl goes to great lengths to explain that after the revelation of the name Yahweh, the ‫ברית‬-covenant in P (used here and in Genesis 17, of course) disappears entirely from P and is replaced by the ‫עדות‬-covenant. 59 The revelation of the tetragrammaton to Moses was essentially a Copernican revolution in which Israel learned to recognize the essence of the divine nature. The nearness of humans to God found in Priestly portions of Genesis, including personal and anthropomorphic descriptions of God, are replaced by impersonal and nonanthropomorphic language focused on majesty. Knohl describes P’s covenants with Noah and Abraham as bilateral and marked by mutuality, which feature was then replaced in P after the revelation of the name Yahweh to the unilateral character of the ‫עדות‬-pact. Many other such attempts to explain the prominence of ‫ ברית‬in P’s account of Noah (and that of Abraham) but its absence in P’s Sinai narrative have occupied scholars for years. Many explanations are possible. But as with most such theories in biblical studies, we may appeal to the criterion whether a theory adequately accounts for the evidence in the most economical manner. I propose here that our attempts have been in the wrong direction because of the assumption that Gen 6:11–22 and 9:8–17 are of the 58.  Whitekettle, “Wild Things,” 24–27; finally not truncated here because fish are included after the flood narration. 59.  Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 141–46. He considers all previous attempts to explain the absence of a Mosaic ‫ ברית‬in P as unacceptable and summarizes them in three categories: (1) those focusing on the editorial level, (2) ideological explanations, and (3) denial that ‫ ברית‬is missing from P; 143–44 n. 80. The real problem, I suggest, is not why it is absent in P elsewhere but why we consider its presence in Genesis 6–9 and 17 attributable to P in the first place.

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31

same cloth as those of P in Exodus. As with our analysis of 9:1–7, I propose here that we reconsider this presumption, and I offer preliminary observations that nudge us in another direction. One is struck immediately in this pericope by the use of the first person singular, independent personal pronoun twice in divine speech to Noah: “I (‫ )אני‬am establishing my covenant” (9:9), and “this is the sign of the covenant that I (‫ )אני‬make” (9:12). 60 As we saw with a similar pronouncement at 6:17, this pronoun never occurs in divine speech in P materials in Exodus– Numbers, and only five times in the book of Genesis (6:17; 9:9, 12; 17:1, 4), but is rather a linguistic characteristic of Holiness texts in the Pentateuch. 61 Knohl recognizes its use as a feature of H, but is forced to acknowledge these are exceptional instances of divine diction in P, and attributes their use in Genesis, once again, to the differences in divine revelation before and after the giving of the name Yahweh. 62 Rather than consider these exceptional cases, perhaps we should simply take the use of this pronoun at 6:17 and 9:9, 12 for what it is elsewhere in the Pentateuch, a feature of H. At 9:10, we encounter once again a list of the animals, this time as participants in the covenant with God. And here again we have the fourfold division with two land animals, as we have seen elsewhere in the Holiness redactional stratum. The schema used here differs slightly, in that the two land animals are domesticated land animals and wild land animals rather than the distinction between high carriage land animals and low carriage land animals we have seen elsewhere in H. 63 With regard to the covenant itself, the motivation for God’s covenant with Noah and the animals appears to be inspired by the words at the conclusion of J’s account, where Yahweh, pleased with Noah’s sacrifice, vows never again to destroy every living creature (8:21). H has adopted similar phraseology in developing God’s motivation for the covenant, showing dependence, not of P on J, which I have argued were independent of each other, but of the Holiness editor’s dependence on both. The use of the rainbow as a sign of the covenant presents us with several interesting features (9:12–17). Its appearance here in a clearly etiological context has, once again, generated scholarly efforts at explanation 60.  nrsv understandably adds “As for me” at the beginning of 9:9 to highlight the casus pendens. 61.  Knohl appears to miss the appearance in Gen 35:11; for the same thing in Yahwistic contexts, see 15:7 and 28:13; Sanctuary of Silence, 107–8. 62.  Ibid., 86 n. 78 and pp. 125–28. 63.  And truncated as before; apparently, aquatic animals live outside the covenant with God; Whitekettle, “Wild Things,” 27–28.

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Fig. 1.  The Broken Obelisk; Nineveh. Copyright of the Trustees of the British Museum.

because we do not often ascribe etiologies to P. 64 But as Knohl has shown, the Holiness redaction stratum is more flexible and it would not be surprising to find etiologies here. Another fascinating feature of the bow is its identification with the warrior’s bow, which has been a popular interpretation since the days of Julius Wellhausen, arguing that God in his covenant hangs the bow in the clouds as a sign hostilities have ceased. 65 Although many have objected to this interpretation, I find the iconographic evidence 64.  Arnold, Genesis, 10–12. So we have etiologies in traditional-epic literature to explain marriage (2:24), the motion of serpents (3:14), human hatred of snakes (3:15), pain in childbirth (3:16), key features in the origins of human civilization (urbanization, 4:17; pastoral nomadism, 4:20; musical arts, 4:21; metallurgy, 4:22; and religion, 4:26), the origins of viticulture (9:20), the origin of the name Babylon (11:9), the origins of Moab and Ammon (19:37–38), why the plain of Jordan has humanoid pillars of salt (19:26), and many others. But such etiologies in P are rare, and the occurrence of a sabbath etiology at 2:2–3 is perhaps evidence for H’s composition rather than P’s. 65. J. Wellhausen, Prolegomena to the History of Israel (trans. G. Reuss; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1994) 311; reprint of Prolegomena to the History of Ancient Israel (trans. J. S. Black and A. Enzies, with preface by W. R. Smith; Edinburgh: Adam & Charles Black, 1885); translation of Prolegomena zur Geschichte Israels (2nd ed.; Berlin: Reimer, 1883). Cf. G. E. Mendenhall, The Tenth Generation: The Origins of the Biblical Tradition (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1973) 43–48.

The Holiness Redaction of the Flood Narrative

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Fig. 2.  The Broken Obelisk (detail). Copyright of the Trustees of the British Museum.

of the Broken Obelisk of Ashur-bel-kala (1073–1056 b.c.e.) of Nineveh convincing (see fig. 1). 66 The king appears on the left, holding four prisoners with a rope. Divine presence lines the sky in the form of five schematized symbols: a horned headdress, a crescent, a winged disc, a bident, and perhaps a star. The winged disc at the center, presumably Ashur, is holding a bow turned in the “relaxed” or at-rest position (see fig. 2). 67 In 66.  For objections to this interpretation, see Westermann, Genesis 1–11, 473. On the Broken Obelisk, see T. Ornan, “Who Is Holding the Lead Rope? The Relief of the Broken Obelisk,” Iraq 69 (2007) 59–72; T. Ornan, “In the Likeness of Man: Reflections on the Anthropocentric Perception of the Divine in Mesopotamian Art,” in What Is a God? Anthropomorphic and Non-Anthropomorphic Aspects of Deity in Ancient Mesopotamia (ed. B. N. Porter; TCBAI 2; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2009) 93–151 (esp. pp. 117–18); T. Ornan, The Triumph of the Symbol: Pictorial Representation of Deities in Mesopotamia and the Biblical Image Ban (OBO 213; Fribourg: Academic Press / Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2005) xxx; and B. F. Batto, “The Divine Sovereign: The Image of God in the Priestly Creation Account,” in David and Zion: Biblical Studies in Honor of J. J. M. Roberts (ed. B. F. Batto and K. L. Roberts; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2004) 143–86 (esp. pp. 151–62). 67.  The winged disc has been taken as a symbol of Shamash, Ninurta, or Ashur; J. A. Black and A. R. Green, Gods, Demons, and Symbols of Ancient Mesopotamia: An Illustrated Dictionary (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1992) 185–86.

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Fig. 3.  Ashurnasirpal II (883–859 b.c.e.) riding into battle. Monumental Stone Relief; Kalhu (Nimrud). British Museum. Photo copyright Lawson G. Stone.

later Neo-­Assyrian iconography, the deity accompanies the king’s chariot, with the bow in the firing position when the king is going to battle (Ashurnasirpal II, 883–859 b.c.e.; see fig. 3). At this time, anthropomorphism was accepted, and the winged disc was even merged with a humanoid depiction. When returning victorious and in peace, the deity holds the bow horizontally or in the “relaxed” position (see fig. 4). As far back as Naram-Sin of Agade (2254–2218 b.c.e.), we have a depiction of the king bearing the bow in the relaxed position, indicating his ability to provide peace in the land (see figs. 5 and 6). As with the deity’s image on the Broken Obelisk, God’s bow of Gen 9:12–17 is symbolically curved in the relaxed position from God’s perspective, indicating God is now at peace with the world; that is, the violence of the flood is over. God has hung his bow in the clouds as a reminder never to repeat this destruction by flood waters. Of all theological images in the Primeval History, I find this one the most anthropomorphic. The iconographic depiction of the Broken Obelisk even has Ashur’s hands holding the bow (see fig. 2), despite the tendency in the Middle Assyrian period to use the winged disc and other such symbols for deity as a device to avoid anthropomorphic portrayals of deities. 68 Yet P, among the sources of the Pentateuch, is most notable for its avoidance of anthropomorphisms and anthropopathisms, which has been well established and much discussed 68.  Ornan, “In the Likeness of Man,” 112–24.

The Holiness Redaction of the Flood Narrative

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Fig. 4.  Ashurnasirpal returning from battle. Kalhu (Nimrud). British Museum. Photo copyright Lawson G. Stone.

for more than a century. 69 God is routinely portrayed in P as impersonal, and ideally represented in divine presence, ‫כבוד‬, rather than more personal forms, and certainly not with human-like characteristics. This makes the picture of God hanging his warrior bow in the cloud as a reminder of his perpetual covenant seem out of place for P. We are left once again, with the argument that P tolerated anthropomorphic expressions and personalized views of God prior to the revelation of the name Yahweh, including the rainbow. 70 One wonders by now how much weight this argument can bear. It seems unlikely that P would have been satisfied to make this concession to popular religion, to portray God with his warrior bow and desiring a sign as a memory aid of his perpetual commitment to the world. Attributing the rainbow to H, as with attributing the covenant itself to H, answers more questions than we currently struggle to answer when we attribute the whole to P.

(14)  Genesis 9:28–29: P’s Resumption of Its Genealogy 71 The voice of P returns in the formulaic sum total of Noah’s lifespan, and the one-word Hebrew tag “and he died” (‫)וימת‬. This signals an official end 69.  Driver, Introduction 128–29; O. Kaiser, Introduction to the Old Testament: A Presentation of Its Results and Problems (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1975) 109–13. 70.  Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 129. 71.  While at first sight, 9:18–27 may appear to be Priestly, it serves as J’s closure of the flood narrative and prepares for his version of the Table of Nations in Genesis 10; Westermann, Genesis 1–11, 482; Speiser, Genesis, 61.

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Fig. 5.  Victory Stela of Naram-Sin of Agade (2254–2218 b.c.e.). Copyright RMNGrand Palais / Art Resource, NY.

The Holiness Redaction of the Flood Narrative

37

Fig. 6.  Victory Stela of NaramSin of Agade (detail). Copyright RMN-Grand Palais / Art Resource, NY.

of the flood narrative, and a resumption of the Priestly genealogical agenda, part of which is resumed in Genesis 10, but in earnest in 11:10–26. The occurrence of ‫ תולדות‬in 10:1 picks up the thread.

Conclusions This reevaluation of the flood narrative’s Priestly materials leads us to a few tentative conclusions. Primary among them is the negative assessment of previous source analysis. The narrative is not composed primarily of P and J strands lightly edited, with few interpolations and glosses in order to yield the current unity. Rather, I propose here we have a J account, which can be reconstructed with relative ease along the lines of the traditional source-critical approach. Next, we have a P account, which, however, bears little resemblance to the traditional source-critical reconstruction. Instead,

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it consisted of scarcely 18 verses of the current text, and was little more than an expanded genealogical note on Noah, with a few narratival details about the flood (see appendix). These two sources were then drawn on and developed thoroughly by a redactor, who at times wrote freehand whole stretches of new material at times expanding P and J (editorial expansions), at other times correcting and nuancing the older account (interpolations). This redactor/author was motivated almost entirely by a desire to preserve the authoritative sources before him, but also to prepare the reader for other materials in the Pentateuch that he considered central to its overall message. These were the themes of holiness and dietary purity. His expansions and interpolations were solely devoted to consolidating the message of the existing sources, while providing new materials that set up a trajectory into the rest of the Pentateuch. This redactor/author is best described as a member of the Holiness School, and his purposes were most keenly focused on buttressing themes found elsewhere in the Pentateuch more and more attributable to the work of the Holiness School. Beyond this, we can draw a few further observations based on this investigation. First, when we survey the contents of P as reconstructed in the appendix and compare that with the expansions and interpolations of H, we discover that P contains no direct divine speech; God does not speak in the P account of the flood. Second, this approach explains how F. M. Cross could argue mistakenly (though understandably) that P was never an independent narrative source but that 6th century b.c.e. Priestly tradents conflated the Epic tradition (JE) with disparate Priestly sources, mostly lists of various kinds. 72 Cross’s instincts were right, in my opinion, about the extent of P, which according to this assessment is much more attenuated than we normally imagine. Yet we still discern a continuous thread running through this briefer P source, and we have no reason to doubt it had an independent existence. What is different today from Cross’s reconstruction is the theory that Priestly authors and editors of the Holiness School played such an important work in the composition of these texts. Finally, and perhaps most obviously, this reassessment requires a complete reconfiguration of covenant theology in the Torah. I am of the opinion that all the covenants are binary, and most are asymmetrical. 73 By “binary” I mean not simply that they are mutual agreements between at least two 72.  F. M. Cross, Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic: Essays in the History of the Religion of Israel (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973) 293–325. 73. On symmetry and asymmetry in biblical covenants, see G. N. Knoppers, “Ancient Near Eastern Royal Grants and the Davidic Covenant: A Parallel?” JAOS 116 (1996) 670–97 (esp. pp. 695–96).

The Holiness Redaction of the Flood Narrative

39

parties but rather that the agreements themselves consist of two components: promise and obligation. Those tilting most toward the promises may be taken as “promissory” covenants. By contrast, those where the promissory element is only implicit, are primarily “obligatory” covenants. But all covenants are both promissory and obligatory by definition, although either component may be left entirely implicit in the language describing the covenant. This leaves me dissatisfied with the explanations for why P in Exodus has no covenantal ceremony or mention of the term ‫ ברית‬in the revelation at Sinai. How likely is it that P objected to the bilateral mutuality of the Sinai covenant, while accepting a ‫ ברית‬covenant for the ancestors in Genesis? It seems more like P would have proposed a unilateral ‫עדות‬-pact for Noah and Abraham rather than articulating an “everlasting” ancestral covenant to compete with Sinai. On the other hand, the ‫ברית‬-covenant is clearly important in the Holiness Code, which even has one example of an “everlasting covenant” (Lev 24:8). 74 Perhaps the two promissory covenants of Genesis—the enduring covenants of Noah and Abraham, promising no more catastrophic floods, and promising that Abram would become Abraham an exceedingly great nation, and that Canaan would become a perpetual holding for his descendants forever (17:5–8)—perhaps these are new Holiness compositions expanding an original P without such covenants. In fact, the phrase translated “everlasting covenant” (‫ )ברית עולם‬is used elsewhere in the Pentateuch in Holiness texts (leaving aside for the moment Gen 17:7, 13, 19). 75 If the two covenants of Genesis are Holiness compositions, they prepare the reader specifically for Leviticus 26, where God promises to remember the ‫ברית‬-covenants of Jacob, Isaac, and Abraham (Lev 26:42). Perhaps the simplest explanation for these echoes and one that is worthy of more investigation is the possibility that scholars of the Holiness School are responsible for the Noah covenant, as well as much more of the flood narrative than we previously realized.

Appendix: Reconstruction of P’s Flood Narrative (5:28) When Lamech had lived 182 years, he became the father of a son; (5:30–32) Lamech lived after the birth of Noah 595 years, and had 74.  The covenant as ‫ ברית‬appears in Lev 26:9, 15, 25, 42 (3×), 44, 45. The fecundity formula we have identified as H in Genesis 1 and 9 (“fruitful” and “multiply”) is also present in Lev 26:9. 75.  The Mosaic sabbath law (Exod 31:16), and the law of table-bread (Lev 24:8).

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other sons and daughters. Thus, all the days of Lamech were 777 years; and he died. After Noah was 500 years old, Noah became the father of Shem, Ham, and Japheth. (7:6–7) Noah was 600 years old when the flood of waters came on the earth. And Noah with his sons and his wife and his sons’ wives went into the ark to escape the waters of the flood. (7:11) In the 600th year of Noah’s life, in the second month, on the 17th day of the month, on that day all the fountains of the great deep burst forth, and the windows of the heavens were opened. (8:1–2a) But God remembered Noah and all the wild animals and all the domestic animals that were with him in the ark. And God made a wind blow over the earth, and the waters subsided; the fountains of the deep and the windows of the heavens were closed, (8:3b–5) At the end of 150 days, the waters had abated; and in the 7th month, on the 17th day of the month, the ark came to rest on the mountains of Ararat. The waters continued to abate until the 10th month; in the 10th month, on the first day of the month, the tops of the mountains appeared. (8:13–14) In the 601st year, in the first month, the first day of the month, the waters were dried up from the earth; and Noah removed the covering of the ark, and looked, and saw that the face of the ground was drying. In the 2nd month, on the 27th day of the month, the earth was dry. (8:18–19) So Noah went out with his sons and his wife and his sons’ wives. And every animal, every creeping thing, and every bird, everything that moves on the earth, went out of the ark by families. (9:28–29) After the flood Noah lived 350 years. All the days of Noah were 950 years; and he died.

Isaiah 47 and 54 An Investigation into a Case of Intertextuality Bryan E. Beyer Introduction The use of intertextuality by biblical authors is well-established. Later biblical writers often adapted or expanded on earlier themes. Sometimes they identified their source; at other times, they perhaps assumed their readers knew the allusion. 1 Later biblical writers often made use of themes expounded by earlier or contemporary writers, and scholars wrestle with how this sort of borrowing and adaptation affects meaning and interpretation. 2 One such example of this in the book of Isaiah is Isa 2:1–4, which closely parallels Mic 4:1–3. In this case, because scholars generally agree Isaiah and Micah were contemporaries, it is difficult to determine the direction of influence. One scholar has even suggested the two prophets drew on an independent liturgical text. 3 A second example from the book of Isaiah is chs. 36–39, the so-called historical interlude, which closely parallels 2  Kings 18–20, though with some minor differences. This example differs from Isa 2:1–4 in that it is Author’s note: I am grateful for the opportunity to present this paper in honor of Dr. Samuel Greengus, a professor I continue to love and respect. I have chosen to investigate a topic I first became aware of over thirty years ago in my first semester at Hebrew Union College—the intertextual relationship between Isaiah 47 and 54. 1.  M. Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989); idem, “The Hebrew Bible and Exegetical Tradition,” in Intertextuality in Ugarit and Israel (ed. J. C. de Moor; OtSt 40; Leiden: Brill, 1998) 15–30; J. Barton, “Intertextuality and the ‘Final Form’ of the Text,” in Congress Volume, Oslo 1998 (ed. A. Lemaire and M. Saebo; VTSup 80; Leiden: Brill, 2000) 33–37; M. Fishbane, “Types of Biblical Intertextuality,” in ibid., 39–44; K. Nielsen, “Intertextuality and the Hebrew Bible,” in ibid., 17–31. 2.  For a general examination of this concept in the canonical book of Isaiah from a Christian perspective, see B. E. Beyer, Encountering the Book of Isaiah: A Historical and Theological Survey (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2007) 243–61. 3. J. Gray, “The Kingship of God in the Prophets and Psalms,” VT 11 (1961) 15.

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quite lengthy. In view of the overwhelming correspondence between the two texts, few if any would deny a connection at some level. Scholars generally believe the events in Isaiah 38–39 historically preceded the events of Isaiah 36–37, a fact that suggests Isaianic priority, because the writer of Kings maintained the sequence. Indeed, the inverting of the accounts makes thematic sense within the overall structure of the book of Isaiah, tying off the “Assyrian section” and preparing readers for the return from Babylon announced in Isaiah 40. 4 The primary audience for Isaiah 40–66 is Jewish exiles in Babylon. The long years of exile 5 had crushed many a spirit; a mood of discouragement and even hopelessness pervaded the community of the faithful (40:7, 27). In response to this melancholy mood, the prophet announces his threefold message. First, God’s people are in exile because of their sin. Jerusalem had not fallen due to Babylon’s superior strength; rather, a moral basis underlay the captivity. Just as 2 Kings 17’s theological editorial placed the blame for the Assyrian conquest of Samaria squarely on Israel’s sin, so here the prophet attributes Jerusalem’s fall to Judah’s sin. Second, the exile actually proves Yahweh is God, for he and he alone predicted it and brought it to pass. On more than one occasion, the prophet challenges the gods of the other nations to make their respective cases for greatness (Isa 41:21–24; 44:7–8). How have they ever demonstrated their sovereignty? What have they ever done that others have documented? Did they defeat Yahweh during the days of the exile? The verdict is resoundingly negative; Yahweh orchestrated the exile for the purpose of judging his people. Third, Yahweh now graciously plans to redeem his people—from exile and forever. In Isaiah 40–48, the focus is largely, though not exclusively, on redemption from exile through Cyrus, Persia’s ruler and the conqueror of Babylon. 6 However, the prophet’s proclamations grow bolder and bolder as his message continues, until he heralds a new heaven and a new earth, 4.  J. H. Walton, “New Observations on the Date of Isaiah,” JETS 28 (1985) 129–32. 5.  Scholars have generally viewed Judah’s history as including three deportations. The first exiles were taken in 605 b.c.e., the fourth year of Jehoiakim, if we take Dan 1:1–2 at face value. The exile of Jehoiachin and others occurred in 597 b.c.e. (2 Kgs 24:10–16), and Jerusalem’s final destruction took place in 586 b.c.e. (2 Kgs 25:1–21). Jer 52:30 appears to indicate a fourth deportation around 581 b.c.e.—perhaps a Chaldean response to the assassination of Gedaliah the governor (Jer 40:5; 41:1–3). Thus, by any count, a minimum of 40 years of exile had been experienced by those who read the prophet’s words at the time of Cyrus’s ascension in 539 b.c.e. 6.  Most interpreters would understand Isaiah 40–48 in this light. For another perspective, however, see G. V. Smith, Isaiah 40–66 (NAC 15B; Nashville: B&H, 2009)

An Investigation into a Case of Intertextuality

43

and an age that features universal peace (65:17–18). In that day, he affirms, Yahweh’s glory will reach even the earth’s coastlands and islands (66:19). Ironically, it is an earlier chapter in which Yahweh, though his prophetic messenger, issues a universal invitation: “Turn to me and be saved, all the ends of the earth, for I am God, and there is no other” (45:22). Isaiah 47 presents a taunt against Babylon, whereas Isaiah 54 announces Israel’s future hope. The themes appear unrelated at first sight; yet, the language and structure of the two passages demand a literary connection. This essay will highlight the common features of Isaiah 47 and 54, documenting a clear literary connection. Indeed, the two chapters portray much evidence for intertextuality, though in this case, the evidence is subtler than with either 2:1–4 or chs. 36–39, and many other examples of intertextuality.

Common Features of Isaiah 47 and 54: Vocabulary/Phrases Common vocabulary and phrases, in and of themselves, are no proof of intentional intertextuality, especially between passages of the same prophetic book. However, when documents contain a high degree of common vocabulary, common themes, and/or common phrases, the likelihood of intertextuality increases. The case is particularly strong when those common features occur in the same order in each text. In Isaiah 47 and 54, the common items do not appear in the exact order; nonetheless, the number of common occurrences is large enough to suggest intentionality. I highlight 12 key vocabulary items in table 1, which I will follow with elaboration on each item. I use ch. 47 as my frame of reference. (1) ‫( קרא‬47:1, 5; 54:5, 6): At first, ‫ קרא‬may seem a bit too common a word to draw a parallel, but it is the particular usage that stands out. In 47:1, 5, an unnamed “they”—perhaps people of the world in general—call Babylon “refined and delicate” 7 and “queen of the kingdoms.” (This latter term appears only here in the Hebrew Bible.) In contrast, Yahweh has called Judah, an abandoned woman, one pained of spirit, back to himself (54:5, 6). The world designated Babylon with terms she could not maintain, but God saw Judah for what she could be—an object of his redemption. 125–26. Smith argues (with the support of a few others) that an Assyrian threat lies behind some of the oracles in these chapters. 7.  The Hebrew words rendered “refined and delicate” (‫ענגה‬, ‫ )רכה‬also appear in Deut 28:56 in a similarly ironic twist. There, the text describes a most refined and delicate woman who, in view of her desperate situation, acts wickedly toward her own family. Here, Babylon’s former position of apparent refinement is contrasted with her imminent calamity.

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Table 1.  Common Features of Isaiah 47 and 54: Vocabulary/Themes/Phrases Word

Meaning

‫קרא‬ ‫חרפה‬ ‫גאל‬ ‫יהוה צבאות שמו‬ ‫קדוש ישראל‬ ‫קצף‬ ‫נחלה‬ ‫ רחם‬,‫רחמים‬ ‫זכר‬ ‫אלמון‬, ‫אלמנה‬, ‫אלמנות‬ ‫רגע‬ ‫נעורים‬

cry out, call reproach, disgrace redeem(er) Yhwh of hosts is his name Holy One of Israel wrath, to be angry inheritance compassion, have compassion remember widowhood moment youth

Isaiah 47 Isaiah 54 Reference Reference 47:1, 5 47:3 47:4 47:4 47:4 47:6 47:6 47:6 47:7 47:8, 9 47:9 47:12, 15

54:5, 6 54:4 54:5, 8 54:5 54:5 54:8, 9 54:17 54:7, 8, 10 54:4 54:4 54:7, 8 54:6

(2) ‫( חרפה‬47:3; 54:4): The concept of shame or reproach applies to both Babylon and Judah. It appears 73 times in the Hebrew Bible and often designates the experience of those on whom God’s judgment falls (for example, see 4:1; 25:8). However, 47:3 describes Babylon as one whose reproach will be seen, whereas 54:4 describes Judah’s reproach as being remembered no more. Babylon’s reproach will testify to its judgment, whereas Judah’s reproach will vanish in the day of redemption. (3) ‫( גאל‬47:4; 54:5, 8): The term appears 25 times in Isaiah, 24 of which are in Isaiah 40–66. As highlighted in the introduction, Yahweh’s redemption of Judah forms a key theme of these chapters. Chapter 47 highlights how Babylon’s humiliation comprises the necessary prerequisite to Judah’s redemption. Once Yahweh removes the oppressor, he may redeem his people (54:5, 8). God’s redemption is marked by the disappearance of his people’s shame and reproach, accompanied by his compassion and loving kindness. (4) ‫( יהוה צבאות שמו‬47:4; 54:5): This expression appears 14 times in the Hebrew Bible, all in the prophetic literature, including 4 times in Isaiah 40–66. 8 It does not appear in chs. 1–39. It commonly forms a doxology of sorts that highlights Yahweh’s power and/or his imminent action. In 47:4, 8.  Isa 47:4; 48:2; 51:15; 54:5; Jer 10:16; 31:35; 32:18; 46:18; 48:15; 50:34; 51:19, 57; Amos 4:13; 5:27 (the abbreviated expression ‫ יהוה שמו‬also appears in Amos 5:8; 9:6).

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45

the expression “our redeemer, Yahweh of hosts is his name, the Holy One of Israel,” is inserted into the midst of words about Babylon’s imminent judgment. In 54:5, the prophet announces to Judah, “For your master, your maker, Yahweh of hosts is his name, and he will be called your redeemer, the Holy One of Israel, the God of all the earth.” As with the parallel use of ‫גאל‬, cited above, Babylon’s humiliation comprises the necessary prerequisite to Judah’s redemption. God’s name fittingly describes him who has the power to judge his enemies and save his own. (5) ‫( קדוש ישראל‬47:4; 54:5): The book of Isaiah contains 25 usages of ‫קדוש ישראל‬. Twelve are in the first half, 13 in the second half, with one in 37:23, part of the historical interlude (chs. 36–39) that joins 1–35 with 40–66. Only 7 other uses of the term appear in the Bible. 9 The Holy One of Israel acts both in judgment and in salvation; he is the one who will humble Babylon (47:4) just as he did Sennacherib, king of Assyria, in the days of Hezekiah (37:23). However, he demonstrates his relationship to his people by redeeming them from exile (54:5, 8). (6) ‫( קצף‬47:6; 54:8, 9): The root ‫ קצף‬appears in its verbal form in 47:6 and 54:9; the noun form ‫ ֶקצֶף‬also occurs in 54:8. In these usages, the prophet uses the outpouring of Yahweh’s wrath in similar fashion, but with different application. In 47:6, he explains why Babylon temporarily gained the upper hand: “I was angry with my people . . . and I gave them into your hand.” In 54:8, the prophet explains how Yahweh, “in a flood of wrath,” hid his face from his people temporarily. In both texts, the prophet describes God’s wrath against his people as something past and on the verge of disappearing. (7) ‫( נחלה‬47:6; 54:17): The term appears once in 19:25 and three other times in Isaiah 40–66 besides these two (49:8; 58:14; 63:17). The prophet, in describing Yahweh’s judgment through his agent Babylon (47:6), identifies Judah as ‫נחלתי‬, “my inheritance,” which whom God was temporarily angry. But the day is coming, assures the prophet, when Judah returns home, her gates are reestablished (54:12), her children are disciples of Yahweh (54:13), oppression is far removed (54:14), and no weapon fashioned against her will prosper (54:17). This day of salvation, he proclaims, is the ultimate ‫נחלת‬ ‫עבדי יהוה‬, “the inheritance of the servants of Yahweh” (54:17). In 54:17, the term denotes God’s people’s ultimate blessing; in 47:6, the term designates God’s people. (8) ‫רחמים‬, ‫( רחם‬47:6; 54:7, 8, 10): The noun ‫רחמים‬, “compassion,” occurs in 47:6 and 54:7, whereas the related verb form occurs in the Piel stem 9.  2 Kgs 19:22; Jer 50:29; 51:5; Ezek 39:7; Ps 71:22; 78:41; 89:19.

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in 54:8, 10. Compassion is something Babylon failed to extend to captive Judah (Lam 5:1–12); Yahweh, however, was about to gather his people with great compassion. In fact, his temporary anger contrasted sharply with his soon-to-appear everlasting lovingkindness (‫)חסד עולם‬. He will bestow his ultimate compassion on his people.  (9) ‫( זכר‬47:7; 54:4): The prophet contrasts Babylon’s past failure to remember with Judah’s future failure to remember; however, the first is negative, whereas the second is positive. Babylon failed to remember (or con­sider) the inevitable outcome of its pride as she afflicted Judah, and in the end would pay a great price. On the other hand, so great would be the blessing of Judah’s redemption that she would not remember the disgrace of her widowhood anymore. (10) ‫אלמון‬, ‫אלמנה‬, ‫( אלמנות‬47:8, 9; 54:4): The concept of widowhood—a potentially difficult socioeconomic state in the ancient world—occurs in both chapters. Again, the tables are turned. In 47:8–9, Babylon defiantly believes she never will sit as a widow nor suffer loss of children, but both of these tragedies will befall her suddenly, in a single moment. All those who might have arisen to plead her case are gone. However, 54:4 announces that the reproach of Judah’s widowhood will be forgotten in the day of God’s lasting blessing. She will know lasting security beyond anything earthly family members can provide. (11) ‫( ֶרגַע‬47:9; 54:7, 8): The word ‫ ֶרגַע‬stresses suddenness and brevity. Babylon’s supposed assurance of everlasting security will be cut short ‫רגע‬ ‫ביום אחד‬, “suddenly, in one day,” as she experiences both bereavement and widowhood in the day of Yahweh’s visitation. Her long period of desolation was imminent. In sharp contrast, Yahweh’s hiding his face from and abandonment of Judah in the exile was merely ‫ברגע קטון‬, “in a brief moment,” compared to the ‫חסד עולם‬, “everlasting lovingkindness,” he now would reveal. (12) ‫( נעורים‬47:12, 15; 54:6): The prophet contrasts Babylon’s sorceries and improper activities she has practiced from her youth with the suffering of Judah ‫אשת נעורים כי תמאס‬, “as a wife of youth when she is rejected.” Babylon’s ultimate rejection looms on the horizon, as does Judah’s joyous renewal.

Common Features of Isaiah 47 and 54: Themes Beyond the parallel vocabulary, Isaiah 47 and 54 also contain common themes. However, since the two chapters contrast Judah’s restoration with Babylon’s destruction, the common themes are developed in contrasting ways. In Judah’s case, the themes have positive applications, because resto-

An Investigation into a Case of Intertextuality

47

ration is in view. In the context of Babylon’s judgment, however, the themes have negative applications. The presence of these themes appears inten­ tional and strengthens the case for intertextuality. One might argue that the lack of exact common vocabulary within the themes themselves creates a bit of uncertainty about the level of intertextuality. At the same time, the presence of common vocabulary overall supports the likelihood of intertextuality. Five common themes especially assert themselves. Shame. Isa 47:3 and 54:4 contrast Babylon’s ‫—ערוה‬the nakedness and accompanying shame she will experience—with Judah’s ‫בוש‬/‫בשת‬, the shame that will soon be gone and forgotten. For Babylon, shame is the final state; for Judah, a soon distant memory. Disaster/calamity/oppression/terror. Isa 47:11 highlights the disaster and calamity (‫רעה‬, ‫ )הֹוָה‬that will come upon Babylon, whereas Isa 54:14 proclaims that oppression and terror (‫ עשק‬and ‫ )מחתה‬will be far removed from Judah. As with the prior category, the focus is on the disaster falling on Babylon forever, but about to disappear forever from Judah. Foundational principles. Isa 47:10 portrays Babylon as trusting in her own evil ways, thinking no one saw. She stood on her own wisdom and knowledge, which would prove a poor foundation. In contrast, Isa 54:14 hails righteousness as Judah’s future foundation (‫)בצדקה תכונני‬. The source of counsel. Isa 47:13 sarcastically calls to Babylon’s counselors—the stargazers ‫החזים בכוכבים‬. Those who gazed at the heavens for counsel would find them unreliable. In contrast, in the day of redemption, Judah’s children will be taught by God, ‫( למודי יהוה‬54:13). The one who made the stars (40:26) will teach his own. Future security. The prophet ends his judgment on Babylon in 47:15 with the words ‫אין מושיעך‬, “there is none to save you.” God’s sover­eignty had empowered Babylon’s rule; none can save the Chaldeans now. In contrast, in 54:17 he affirms with respect to Judah that ‫כל־כלי יוצר עליך לא‬ ‫יצלח‬, “no weapon fashioned against you will succeed.” How can it, if Yahweh fights for Judah?

Common Structural Features Isaiah 47 and 54 also display common structural features, particularly with respect to their opening verses. I will highlight four items:

Isaiah 47:1 and 54:1 The verses begin with groupings of feminine singular imperatives, each followed by the vocative: ‫רדי ושבי על־עפר בתולת בת־בבל שבי־לארץ אין־כסא‬ ‫“( בת־כשדים‬Go down and sit on the dirt, O virgin daughter of Babylon;

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Table 2. Isaiah 47:1 and 54:1, Phrase by Phrase Part of Speech Imperative Vocative Imperative Vocative

Isaiah 47:1 ‫רדי ושבי על־עפר‬ ‫בתולת בת־בבל‬ ‫שבי־לארץ אין־כסא‬ ‫בת־כשדים‬

Isaiah 54:1 ‫רני‬ ‫עקרה לא ילדה‬ ‫פצחי רנה וצהלי‬ ‫לא־חלה‬

Table 3. ‫ כי‬Clauses in Isaiah 47:1 and 54:1 Isaiah 47:1 ‫כי לא תוסיפי יקראו־לך רכה וענגה‬

Isaiah 54:1 ‫כי־רבים בני־שוממה מבני בעולה אמר יהוה‬

sit on the ground without a throne, O daughter of the Chaldeans”) in 47:1 parallels 54:1, ‫“( רני עקרה לא ילדה פצחי רנה וצהלי לא־חלה‬Sing out, O barren one who has not given birth; utter a ringing cry and rejoice, you who have not travailed”). Table 2 highlights the breakdown phrase by phrase. In the second half of both verses, a ‫ כי‬clause substantiates the imperatives. Why is it that the daughter of Babylon should humble herself? Because her days of being called “refined and delicate” are over (see earlier note on discussion of ‫ קרא‬in 47:1)! Why should the forsaken woman sing out? Because she will have more children than the married woman does (see table 3)!

Isaiah 47:2 and 54:2 The second verses of each chapter feature strings of imperatives and/or jussives—6 in ch. 47, 5 in ch. 54. These verbal forms call for action in light of the announcements of v. 1 (see table 4). In view of Babylon’s impending humiliation, she should adopt a humble posture, grinding meal, putting on clothing more suitable to slavery, even exposing her legs to some degree to work the millstones. 10 Judah, however, needs to begin making room for all her new children! She must expand her tents, stretch out her curtains, strengthen the tent pegs in place! Yahweh is humbling Babylon but exalting his people. 10.  B. S. Childs (Isaiah [Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2001] 366) and C. Westermann (Isaiah 40–66: A Commentary [Philadelphia: Westminster, 1969] 190) understand the reference to exposing the legs as continuing the slave imagery of the prior verses. Others have suggested the possibility of exile imagery (in connection with the command “cross the rivers!”) or even sexual humiliation. The intended meaning is not crucial to the issue at hand—the parallel strings of imperatives in chs. 47 and 54.

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Table 4. Imperatives and Jussives in Isaiah 47:2 and 54:2 Isaiah 47:2 ‫קחי רחים‬ ‫וטחני קמח‬ ‫גלי צמתך‬ ‫חשפי־שבל‬ ‫גלי־שוק‬ ‫עברי נהרות‬

Isaiah 54:2 ‫הרחיבי מקום אהלך‬ ‫ויריעות משכנותיך‬ ‫אל־תחשכי‬ ‫האריכי מיתריך‬ ‫ויתדתיך חזקי‬

The Negative Particle ‫לא‬ The two chapters display a reversal in their usages of the negative particle. Typically, Judah’s formerly negative experience will become positive, whereas Babylon’s formerly positive experience will become negative. To cite one example, we again look to 47:1 and 54:1. Babylon is the woman with status, ‫ בתולת בת־בבל‬,‫בת־כשדים‬. However, she will not again be called “refined and delicate”; rather, her exalted status is about to be removed. In contrast, the prophet describes Judah as ‫ לא־ילדה‬,‫ ;לא־חלה‬however, she will know the blessing of God, with children in abundance. In 47:1b, the ‫כי‬ clause is quite negative; in 54:1b, quite positive. In sum, the 12 instances of ‫ לא‬in Isaiah 47 appear in order to negate some good quality or trait that Babylon will no longer experience; the 11 instances of ‫ לא‬in Isaiah 54 appear alongside some negative quality or threat that Judah need no longer fear. Yahweh as the Ultimate Force behind the Exile In the heart of each indictment (47:6; 54:7–8), the prophet explains the real reason behind the exile. As Assyria had merely served Yahweh’s purpose (10:5–19; 37:24–28), so now Babylon had done the same. Judah had not experienced exile because Babylon was just too strong, but because of Yahweh’s judgment against her. But now, the day of reckoning had come; Judah would experience restoration, while Babylon would fall.

Some Concluding Suggestions Clearly, the parallels between Isaiah 47 and 54 are too numerous to suggest coincidence, but what is the connection? What was the author’s purpose? Placing the two chapters side-by-side in the text might have produced a more powerful oratorical effect; instead, 109 verses lie between them! One might suggest the spacing of the oracles comprises some kind of

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inclusio, with chs. 47 and 54 serving as bookends of a prophetic subdrama. In such a scenario, we might expect to find similar parallels between passages that lie between these chapters. Evidence for this, however, appears lacking for the meantime but requires further research. Isaiah 47 and 54 exhibit numerous vocabulary, thematic, and structural parallels. These parallels clearly establish the presence of a literary connection. The writer has taken one oracle and turned it on its head, turning the positives into negatives and the negatives into positives. The tightest parallels are in 47:1–9 and 54:1–9, though more occur in the remaining portions of each chapter. Many ancient prophetic voices proclaimed the judgment of Israel’s and Judah’s neighbors. In the face of disaster, God’s people naturally wondered, “What about our enemies? Does God see their injustices, too?” The books of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel all feature lengthy “Oracles against the Nations” sections, and in the Book of the Twelve, Amos, Obadiah, Nahum, and Zephaniah also stand out as prime examples. Yahweh’s sovereignty does not end at the borders of Israel and Judah. He is God of the whole world, and he will judge sin and establish his purposes. The prophets announce what we might call a “Divine Golden Rule”—as you have done to God’s people, so he will do unto you.

The Tenth Commandment and the Concept of “Inward Liability” Aurelian Botica Cogitationis poenam nemo paitur 1 ‫שמחשב אדם לחטוא כמועל במקום‬

Introduction Because of its apparent focus on “interiority,” the tenth commandment (“You shall not covet” Exod 20:17; Deut 5:21) has always raised more questions than each of the first nine commandments of the Decalogue. We know that in the history recorded in the Bible, as well as in the subsequent history of Second Temple Judaism, the first nine commandments could be—and at times were—applied in the court of law or in the wider societal system of justice. We could even argue that biblical and rabbinic Judaism could prosecute a person for the “religious” offense described in the first two commands, namely, idol worship. 2 One must say, however, that even though ancient sources show that the first two commandments (against idolatry) could be used in a court of law, a number of scholars have raised questions on the possibility of applying capital punishment in Roman Palestine. 3 Author’s note: As an international student, what helped me to succeed in a tough academic environment was Dr. Greengus’s encouraging personality. As professors, we unconsciously emulate the style and methods of our own teachers. I bear the label “Dr. Greengus’s student” as a badge of honor! This article represents a revised and augmented version of the appendix “The question of the verb ‫ ”חמד‬from my Ph.D. dissertation, The Concept of Intention in the Bible, Philo of Alexandria and the Early Rabbinic Literature (Hebrew Union College, Cincinnati, 2007), which formed the basis of the book with the same name published in 2011. 1.  In Latin: “No one is punished for thinking of a crime.” In Hebrew: “When a man intends/thinks to sin he is [considered like] faithless before the Place” (that is, God; Num. Rab. 8:5). 2.  Even though such punishment was extremely rare, the Scripture records cases of “societal” punishment for idolatry in Exod 32:18 (cf. 2 Kgs 23:19–20) and the command for capital punishment for “idol worship” in Exod 22:20; Deut 17:2–7 (indirectly Lev 20:2). For capital cases for idolatry in rabbinic literature, see m. Sanh. 7:4 (‫העובד‬ ‫)כוכבים‬, and the elaboration of the Talmud (b. Sanh 9:4ff.). 3.  See my Concept of Intention in the Bible, Philo of Alexandria and the Early

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And yet, when we approach the last commandment it becomes apparent that the Scripture lists an offense, such as coveting, that could hardly be prosecuted in a court of law. This naturally raises questions not only about the tenth commandment, but about the nature of the entire Decalogue, and whether the Ten Commandments were ever intended as a code of actual criminal and civil law. 4 This wider issue, however, requires a separate investigation, one that falls outside the scope of our intent. Here I turn to an investigation of the nature of the offense itself. We will ask whether the legal sources in the Scripture considered “coveting” an offense in itself, or whether they treat it exclusively for its practical outcome. Likewise, we will explore whether the Hebrew Bible lists cases where this sort of offense might have been prosecuted. In the process, we will also deal with several contemporary approaches to the notion of coveting and the idea of the inwardness of offense. 5 Rabbinic Literature (New York: Gorgias, 2011) 191ff.; the analysis of A. M. Rabello, “Jewish and Roman Jurisdiction,” in An Introduction to the Sources and History of Jewish Law (ed. N. S. Hecht et al; New York: Oxford, 1996) 144; and idem, “The Legal Conditions of the Jews in the Roman Empire,” ANRW 2.13:667, for “the improbability of the legal independence of the Sanhedrin vis-à-vis Roman provincial authority.” On the debate on whether Jews had the jurisdiction over capital punishment, see also P. Juster, Les Juifs dans l’empire romain (2 vols.; Paris: Geuthner, 1914) 1:5; 2:157–58; E. R. Goodenough, The Jurisprudence of Jewish Courts in Egypt (London: Oxford, 1929) 23–26. 4.  Thus J. W. Marshall, “The Decalogue,” in DOTP 178–79. He argues that “this tenth commandment’s shift to the interior dimension of human life lessens the probability that the Decalogue functioned as an actual set of laws in ancient Israel.” 5.  The scholarly output on this matter has been immense. Among others, in this study I have considered the following works: J. J. Stamm and M. E. Andrew, The Ten Commandments in Recent Research (London: SCM, 1967) 103–4; A. Phillips, Ancient Israel’s Criminal Law: A New Approach to the Decalogue (Oxford: Blackwell, 1970) 150ff.; B. Jackson, “Liability for Mere Intention in Jewish Law,” in Essays in Jewish and Comparative Legal History (Leiden: Brill, 1975) 202–34; B. Lang, “Du sollst nicht nach der Frau eines anderen verlangen,” ZAW 93 (1981) 216–24; H. D. Preuss, Old Testament Theology (2 vols.; Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1995) 1:104, 196; A. Rofe, Deuteronomy: Issues and Interpretations (London: T. & T. Clark, 2001) 79ff.; P. Achtemeier, “Covetousness,” IDB 1:724; W. Evans, “Covet,” ISBE 1:797–98; D. Schunk, “Wanting and Desiring,” ABD 6:866–67; D. L. Talley, “‫חמד‬,” NIDOTTE 2:167–69; E. Otto, Theologische Ethik des Alten Testaments (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1994) 169; B. Jacob, “The Decalogue,” JQR n.s. 14 (1923) 168ff.; F. Büchsel, “ἐπιθυμία, ἐπιθυμέω,” TDNT 3:168–72; B. Gemsler, “The Object of Moral Judgment in the Old Testament,” in Adhuc loquitur: Collected Essays by Dr. B. Gemsler (ed. A. van Selms; Pretoria Oriental Series 7; Leiden: Brill, 1968) 78–95; S. A. Kaufman, “The Structure of the Deuteronomic Law,” Maarav 1/2 (1979) 105–58, esp. pp. 143; B. S. Childs, The Book of Exodus (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1974) 425ff.; P. C. Craigie, Deuteronomy (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994) 163–64; G. Wallis, “‫חמד‬,” TDOT 5:457; D. Christensen, Deuteronomy 1:1–21:9

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The Bible refers to the tenth commandment in two key passages: Exod 20:17 and Deut 5:21: ‫לא תחמד בית רעך לא־תחמד אשת רעך ועבדו ואמתו ושורו וחמרו וכל אשר‬ ‫לרעך׃‬ You shall not covet the house of your neighbor. You shall not covet the wife of your neighbor, or his [male] servant, or his female servant, or his ox, or his donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor. (Exod 20:17) ‫ולא תחמד אשת רעך ולא תתאוה בית רעך שדהו ועבדו ואמתו שורו וחמרו וכל‬ ‫אשר לרעך׃‬ And you shall not covet the wife of your neighbor. And you shall not desire your the house of your neighbor, his field, or his [male] servant, or his female servant, his ox, or his donkey, or anything that belong to your neighbor. (Deut 5:21)

As already mentioned, the idea of the culpability of “coveting” (implied in the two passages) has given rise to a vigorous scholarly debate. 6 In essence, scholars have asked whether or not the text teaches that God may condemn the act of ‫חמד‬, even if “coveting” will not terminate in a physical offense. In other words, can one talk about the culpability of “mere coveting” or not?

Coveting as Physical Misappropriation The scholars who have answered this question in the negative, have taken into consideration not only the tenth commandment, but also the (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2001) 126–29; M. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1–11 (New York: Doubleday, 1991) 316–19; C. Houtman, Exodus I–III (Leeuven: Peeters, 2000) 66–71; D. Daube, Aspects of Roman Law (Edinburgh: The University Press, 1969, 163; B. Cohen, Jewish and Roman Law: A Comparative Study (2 vols.; New York: Jewish Theological Society of America, 1966), 1:79; G. Mayer, “‫אוה‬,” TDOT 1:134–3; W. C. Williams, “‫אוה‬,” NIDOTTE 1:304–6; E. Merrill, Deuteronomy (NAC 4; Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 1994), 155–57; J. Durham, Exodus (WBC 3; Waco, TX: Wong, 1987), 297–300; J. Levine, Heaven and Earth, Law and Love: Studies in Biblical Thought (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2000), 142ff.; S. A. White Crawford, “The All Souls Deuteronomy and the Decalogue,” JBL 109 (1990): 193–206; G. von Rad, Deuteronomy (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1966), 59; C. H. Gordon, “A Note on the Tenth Commandment,” JAAR 31 (1963): 208–9; M. Noth, Exodus (London: SCM, 1962), 166; J. W. Marshall, “The Decalogue,” DOTP 178–79; J. H. Tigay, Deuteronomy (Philadelphia, Jewish Publication Society, 1996), 72; D. Stuart, Exodus (Nashville, TN: Broadman & Holman, 200), 466–68; W. L. Moran, “The Conclusion of the Decalogue (Ex 20, 17 = Dt 5, 21),” CBQ 29 (1967): 543–54. 6.  Among others, this has been noticed and analyzed by Jackson, “Liability for Mere Intention,” 203; Childs, The Book of Exodus, 425ff.; Durham, Exodus, 297–300; Rofe, Deuteronomy, 79.

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rest of the instances of ‫ חמד‬throughout the Scripture. They focused on several passages in which ‫ חמד‬is followed by verbs of “taking/seizing,” thereby implying that in the Bible coveting must have taken a “practical/material” dimension. 7 Even though the passages of Exod 20:17 and Deut 5:21 make no reference to “seizing” or “taking” anything, it has been argued that they do not legislate the mere thought of coveting, but the practical implications of it—that is, the potential “physical misappropriation” of the wife, house, servants, and the rest of the property. According to von Rad, if one interpreted the verb ‫ חמד‬as “mere coveting,” this would “be the only case in which the Decalogue deals not with an action, but with an inner impulse, hence with a sin of intention.” 8 Von Rad considers several of the other appearances of the verb (Josh 7:21; Mic 2:2) and concludes that the verb “has two possible meanings, both to covet and to take.” In other words, it “includes outward malpractices, meaning seizing for oneself.” A similar “sociological” reading is developed by Noth, who sees in “coveting” the act of “attempt,” involving all “possible undertakings which involve gaining power over the goods and possessions of a ‘neighbor.’” 9 Buchanan too takes a similar approach, yet with a different twist, which is also culturally relevant. He appeals to modern Arabian customs by which the host feels obligated to present a gift to the guest, if he desires it, even in a very mild form. That is why in Israel wives are (and were) kept out of sight. 10 Even though this interpretation appears to strain the biblical data and the overall weight of the argument, the essential idea remains the same: coveting implies practical machinations by which one seeks to defraud his neighbor. 11 7.  See Deut 7:25 for the formula ‫ ולקחת לך‬. . .‫לא תחמד‬. Note also the similarity of this passage with Josh 7:21, ‫ואחמדם ואקחם‬, and Mic 2:2, ‫( וחמדו ׂשדות וגזלו‬covet and seize). Finally, Genesis 3 is another example of the verb followed by a second verb with physical connotations ‫ונחמד העץ להשכיל‬. Exod 34:24 (“coveting” the “land”) is another passage that scholars have usually cited in order to support the argument that implies necessarily the occurrence of a physical offense. 8. Von Rad, Deuteronomy, 59. 9.  Noth, Exodus, 166. He refers to the possibility of “theft” or “all kinds of dishonest machinations.” Note also the argument of Achtemeier (“Covetousness,” IDB 1:724), who contends that “the object of desire described by ‫ חמד‬is “always material.” Accordingly, to “deprive a man of his property is thus to deprive him of his God given inheritance” (cf. Mic 2:2). 10.  G. W. Buchanan, “The ‘Spiritual’ Commandment,” JAAR 36 (1968) 206–7. 11.  Note M. D. Matlock, “Obeying the First Part of the Tenth Commandment: Applications from the Levirate Marriage Law,” JSOT 31 (2007) 300, for the notion that the prohibition might reflect “a higher concern or possible regard for women’s rights.” Citing R. I. Vasholz, “You Shall Not Covet Your Neighbour’s Wife,” WTJ 49 (1987) 397–

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Finally, Gordon takes a “comparative religions” approach, drawing several parallels between Ugaritic texts and the passages in Exodus and Deuteronomy. In the myths, Baal, the Canaanite god, “covets” certain objects like a bull, a field, and possibly a house. 12 According to Gordon, the key to solving the problem posed by ‫ חמד‬is to interpret the biblical passages as a reaction against Canaanite customs. Regardless of the validity of his interpretation, the gist of Gordon’s argument remains the same as the others above: in ‫ חמד‬one reads the unilateral, illegitimate attempt to acquire the property owned by someone else. A somewhat lengthier argument was formulated by Rofe, for whom the commandment “forbids not mere thoughts and feelings, but rather practical schemes and real actions aimed at acquiring the property of someone else.” 13 Unlike other scholars, Rofe followed certain trends in later rabbinic exegesis, which noted that Deuteronomy 5 inserted in the tenth commandment the form ‫“( ולא תתאוה‬You shall not desire”). The rabbis argued that the texts make a clear distinction in meaning between the verbs ‫ חמד‬and ‫אוה‬. In particular, Rofe cited two of the rabbinic passages that play on this difference: Perhaps the Commandment forbids coveting in words? Not so; for the Torah states (Deut 9.25) ‘You shall not covet the silver and gold on them 403, Matlock brings into discussion the possibility that the act of “desiring” was more “material” and less “subjective and sexual.” What a man would have desired was the “dowry” of the wife, which the husband had to return to her in case of divorce. Matlock also interprets the first part of the 10th commandment in light of the issue of “levirate marriage,” that is, when the husband of the wife would have died and his brother would have had to fulfill the duty of the “levir.” This scenario falls more within the boundaries of the “materialistic” interpretation of the 10th commandment (even though Matlock raises the possibility that the verb may have touched on the subjective aspect of the matter as well). 12.  Gordon, “A Note on the Tenth Commandment,” 208–9. For a good evaluation of Gordon’s argument, see Jackson, “Liability for Mere Intention,” 209–10. 13.  Rofe, Deuteronomy, 81. Note also Stuart, Exodus, 466, for the idea that the “passage does not prohibit or legislate ‘desire.’” Rather, the “overall view is that ‘desire’ in and of itself is not sinful.” What the passage in Exodus prohibits is the “‘desiring’ of things that ‘already belong to someone else.’” See also the arguments of J. R. Coates, “Thou Shalt Not Covet,” ZAW 52 (1934) 238–39; Moran, “The Conclusion of the Decalogue,” 543ff.; E. Nielsen, The Ten Commandments in New Perspective (London: SCM, 1968) 43, 101–5; and Stamm and Andrew, The Ten Commandments in Recent Research, 104, who propose “that the Deuteronomists were attempting with this change to tone down the objective action implied by ‫חמד‬, and move the commandment towards . . . ‘mental coveting.’” While this theory seeks to strike a middle ground, it assumes that the meaning of ‫ חמד‬is more practical than that of ‫ ;אוה‬thus, the necessity to add ‫!אוה‬

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Similarly, Weiss compared the early rabbinic texts with the interpretation Maimonides places on the tenth commandment. In his view, “Maimonides in effect deals with this problem by the way that he interprets these two mitsvoth.” 16 As such, “You shall not covet” proscribes hectoring the neighbor to induce him to sell one of his possessions. . . . “You shall not desire” forbids a man to scheme in his heart about how to acquire something belonging to the neighbor, but without putting the plan into action. . . .The passion by itself does not constitute a sin. 17

Rofe seems to have relied on this classical and medieval rabbinic distinction, which he revised according to his own understanding of the formation of the Decalogue in the book of Deuteronomy. Accordingly, the presence of the two verbs in the Deuteronomy account may be due to a later revisionist attempt by an author who was influenced by wisdom literature. 18 If ‫ חמד‬focused primarily on the “desire to acquire control of someone else’s property,” ‫ אוה‬strengthened this boundary. The purpose was to insure the overall protection of property rights on the part of the Israelites, yet by making it even more idealistic! 19 The formulator of the Decalogue thus added ‫ אוה‬to 14.  Mekhilta de Rabbi Ishmael (ed. Horovitz-Rabin; Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1931; repr., Jerusalem: Bamberger & Wahrman, 1960) 235, quoted by Rofe, Deuteronomy, 79. 15.  Mekhilta de Rabbi Simeon bar Yohai (ed. D. Hoffman; Frankfurt am Main: Kauffmann, 1905) 112. See also the interpretation of Jacob, “The Decalogue,” 141–87, in that “the difference is this, that the occasion for ‫ חמד‬is inspection, for ‫ אוה‬imagination.” 16. R. Weiss, Maimonides’ Ethics: The Encounter of Philosophic and Religious Morality (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1991) 148. 17.  Maimonides, “Laws Concerning Robbery and Lost Objects,” in The Code of Maimonides: The Book of Torts (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1949) 1:9. 18. See Rofe, Deuteronomy, 96. Accordingly, the formulator of the Decalogue (in Deuteronomy) “felt hmd was too ambigous and wanted a more precise term.” In Rofe’s view, the formulation as it now stands in Deuteronomy is “idealistic” and was added later, perhaps under influence of wisdom literature (e.g., Prov 22:26–28; 23:10; 24:2–3). 19.  Matlock, “Obeying the First Part of the Tenth Commandment,” 301, takes an

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57

go beyond the original prohibition against coveting, “adding even longing thoughts for the property of one’s fellow man.” 20 Rofe also contended that the more “materialistic” approach of the tenth commandment, as found in the Mekhilta and other rabbinic sources, was adopted by liberal Protestant scholars. On the opposite side, beginning with the Middle Ages, a number of Jewish scholars preferred the Greek (and implicitly Philonic) interpretation, by which they sought to prove that “God’s concern with the intentions is already found in the Ten Commandments.” 21 As shown above, a number of ancient and contemporary authors argued that the key expressions around which the argument for culpability revolves are the verbs ‫ חמד‬and ‫אוה‬, and their respective meanings as “covet” and “desire.” Naturally, this difference has given rise to several interpretations. On the one hand, a number of scholars have argued that the two verbs are synonyms. 22 In other words, in order to underline the gravity of “coveting” the interesting approach here by suggesting that, because Deuteronomy 5 introduces ‫אוה‬ only in relation to the subject of women, it further separates women from the rest of the property and thus emphasizes the value of the wife. 20.  Rofe, Deuteronomy, 85, 96, adds that “in all genres of biblical literature . . . ‫אוה‬ connotes desire only without any accompanying action.” In support of this view, he lists the following passages: in law (Deut 12:20; 14:26); narrative (2 Sam 23:15); prophecy (Amos 5:18; Mic 7:1); poetry (Ps 10:17) and wisdom (Prov 13:12). 21.  Ibid., 83. According to Rofe, the reason why some (though not all) Christian scholars were attracted to this interpretation was to find in the Decalogue “those elements of the legalistic approach which they ascribe to Judaism.” As it will become evident later, the problem with Rofe’s view is that it fails to take into account a substantial number of studies by Christian authors who adopt the “Greek,” rather than the rabbinic, interpretation. To give him credit, Rofe lists a number of protestant scholars who adopted this interpretation without looking for proof texts (Alt, Stamm, Nielsen, and Childs). Now, Rofe may be right that certain protestant authors were guilty of “prooftexting,” but incorrect as to what precisely they were seeking to prove. As we will argue, some Christian scholars may have used the “proof text” of Exod 20:17 / Deut 5:21, but to support the view that God sanctions “mere coveting,” which comes close to what Jesus said in Matt 5:27–28: “I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” It is possible that they may have sought to link the exegesis of Jesus with the Decalogue. But even so, as we will show later, the notion that adultery may occur at the level of the heart was not necessarily a Christian innovation. As I have already shown (The Concept of Intention, 447ff.,) the notion was familiar at least to a number of rabbinic authors (Pesik. Rab. 24.2; b. Ber. 24a; Num. Rab. 9:11; b. Yoma 29a). It is conceivable that the more “spiritual” interpretation flowed naturally from the Decalogue for both (at least some) Jewish and Christian interpreters. 22.  Merrill, Deuteronomy, 155–57, showing that “very likely Deuteronomy uses ʾawa as a synonym for hamad only for the sake of literary variety”; similarly, see S. R. Driver, Deuteronomy (New York: Scribners, 1916) 80, for the notion of “rhetorical

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biblical author used an emphatic parallelism. The Scripture appears to support this view, because it is argued that both ‫ חמד‬and ‫ אוה‬may take similar meanings. 23 Durham has shown that in every biblical “passage in which ‫ חמד‬leads to actual possession, a second verb is supplied to make that additional meaning clear.” Yet the two passages in Exodus 20 and Deuteronomy 5 employ no secondary verbs. Durham argues that, “if ‫ חמד‬had meant ‘covet and seize,’ such a second verb would have been unnecessary.” 24 A less convincing, but nevertheless relevant, philological argument, is the fact the LXX translates both ‫ חמד‬and ‫ אוה‬with ἐπιθυμέω: 25 οὐκ ἐπιθυμήσεις τὴν γυναῖκα τοῦ πλησίον σου οὐκ ἐπιθυμήσεις τὴν οἰκίαν τοῦ πλησίον σου (Deut 5:21). This evidence is speculative, but whatever it does or does not prove, it shows that, had the Greek translators felt the need to supply a secondary (and thus different) meaning, they could have done so.

Coveting as Internal Impulse At the other end of the spectrum, a number of scholars have contended that it is the thought, impulse, or the intention, that is guarded against, not necessarily the material finality of the “coveting.” They have pointed to other passages in the Bible that appear to use ‫ חמד‬with a nonphysical object. 26 Or, when the Bible makes a reference to a possible physical object, the “offense” does not appear to include the “sizing” or the “taking” itself. Rather, as with the case of Exod 20:17 and Deut 5:21, the focus falls just on “coveting.” 27 variation” as the reason for the synonymity of ‫ אוה‬and ‫חמד‬. See Craigie, The Book of Deuteronomy, 163–64; and Christensen, Deuteronomy 1:1–21:9, 121–29, for the idea of “poetic parallelism.” 23.  One may note that the Scripture does use ‫ אוה‬often in a positive sense: thus, ‫“( בכל אות נפשך‬everything your soul desires,” Deut 12:21, etc.). But the following “negative” cases may also be considered: Num 11:14, on the craving of the Israelites in the wilderness, ‫התאוו תאוה‬, a reaction that led to their punishment; Prov 21:10, ‫נפש רשע‬ ‫“( אותה־רע‬The soul of the wicked desires evil”); Job 23:13, ‫ומי ישיבנו ונפשו אותה ויעש‬ (“What his soul desires, he shall do”); Prov 24:1, ‫“( ואל־תתאו להיות אתם‬Do not desire to be with [evil men]”); cf. Jer 17:16. 24.  Durham, Exodus, 298ff. 25.  Also noted by Büchsel, “ἐπιθυμία, ἐπιθυμέω,” TDNT 3:169. 26. See Ps 19:11, ‫( הנחמדים‬ordinances more “desirable” than); Prov 6:25, ‫יפיה‬ ‫( בלבבך‬not “desiring” a woman’s beauty in one’s heart); Prov 1:22, ‫ולצים לצון חמדו להם‬ (“and the scoffers will desire their scoffing”). 27.  Consider the following passages: Prov 12:12, ‫“( חמד רשע מצוד רעים‬the evil one covets the spoil of evil doers”); Isa 1:29, ‫“( כי יבשו מאילים אשר חמדתם‬you will be ashamed of the oaks which you have desired”); Isa 53:2,‫“( ולא־מראה ונחמדהו‬and no appearance that we should be attracted by him”).

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Merrill acknowledges that coveting frequently “finds expression in deed” but that here the text “raises the issue of sin and disobedience from the level of mere act to that of attitude, thought, and desire.” 28 Perhaps a more persuasive case is made by Craigie, who interprets the final commandment “as a prohibition of desire or coveting, without there being any suggestion of an act.” He takes a structural approach, showing that “the last five commandments prohibit a wrong attitude to neighbors; commandments 6–9 prohibit wrong acts toward them and commandment 10 is comprehensive in prohibiting desire leading to any such act.” 29 Taking an intermediate position, Kaufman argues that “hmd means to desire something so strongly that you want to take it, but it neither refers to nor implies the act of taking itself.” With a view toward the potential for evil, the phrase ‫ ולא תחמד‬still means “‘avoid tempting situations.’” 30 For Wallis, the usage of the verb ‫ חמד‬may in fact allude to taking possession of a person or an object, but not in all of its occurrences. 31 In our passages, sexual lust and stealing property had already been prohibited and sanctioned in the previous commandments of the Decalogue (Exod 20:14 = Deut 5:18, Exod 20:15 = Deut 5:19). That is why employing both ‫ חמד‬and ‫ אוה‬must have had a different purpose. For Wallis, “the only remaining possibility, then, is to interpret chamadh within the framework of an ethics of pure intention. . . .If so, desire is sinful in itself.” In what appears to be a mediating position, Wallis concludes that “what is forbidden is the desire that marks the beginning of an attempt, insidious or open, to gain possession of something that belongs to another.” Perhaps the most comprehensive argument to date has been that of Jackson. He noted that for scholars like Nielsen and Stamm, ‫ חמד‬connotes the idea of “attempted misappropriation,” because the “desire is oriented toward an act with negative consequences.” 32 The argument stands more on the philological/semantic dimension of the verb. According to this view, the sense of the prohibition of ‫ חמד‬was geared toward protecting one’s prop­erty, 28.  Merrill, Deuteronomy, 155–57. 29.  Craigie, The Book of Deuteronomy, 163–64. Note too the argument of Christensen, Deuteronomy 1:1–21:9, 121–29, who sees in “coveting” an attitude of self-interest that may lead to the “violation of commandments 6 to 9.” 30.  Kaufman, “Structure of the Deuteronomic Law,” 105–58, esp. p. 143. For a similar argument, note Tigay, Deuteronomy, 72. In essence, the command here forbids the “attempts on the property of others ‘even at the stage of longing.’” 31.  Wallis, “‫חמד‬,” TDOT 4:454, 457–61. 32.  Jackson, “Liability for Mere Intention,” 203. More to the point, the act of “coveting” was legislated (‫ )לא תחמד‬precisely because of its practical, negative consequences vis-à-vis this object.

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even though it may have had in view the acquisition of “something into one’s belongings which is not actually used by its owner.” 33 On his part, Jackson argued that, first, “there is no evidence that liability for mere intention was ever applied in a human court.” With this remark he appeared to have made a concession to the “traditionalist” view. 34 Indirectly he challenged the interpretation, by some, that the notion of liability for “coveting” alone is plausible and consistent with the other trends of biblical thought. 35 Finally, however, Jackson based his interpretation on his analysis of the more relevant passages in which ‫ חמד‬and ‫ אוה‬appear. We have already reviewed them, but suffice it to say that, based on his reading, Jackson acknowledged the possibility that “the idea did exist that merely to intend a wrong was itself wrong. 36 It was, however, a principle employed in 33.  Lang, “Du sollst nicht nach der Frau eines anderen verlangen,” 216–24. Following a similar approach, Stamm and Andrews, The Ten Commandments in Recent Research, 103–4, argued that the Decalogue would not have forbidden “the covetous impulse of the heart.” It rather legislated “coveting” in order to protect the fundamental right to property of the free Israelite citizen against stealing or robbing. Lang too contended that “Ex 20:17 and Deut 5:21 reflect the concern to protect legally the free adult male’s marriage and possessions even in a time of crisis (e.g., as a prisoner of war)”; cf. Phillips, Ancient Israel’s Criminal Law, 150–51. An intermediate position has been suggested by Preuss, Old Testament Theology, 1:104, 196, who argued that “the verb is used here not simply to point to an interior ‘striving’ but also to designate the machinations by which one seeks to acquire the property of others.” Similarly , W. A. L. Elmslie, “Ethics,” in Record and Revelation: Essays on the Old Testament by Members of the Society for Old Testament Study (ed. H. W. Robinson; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1938) 275– 302; Achtemeier, “Covetousness,” ADB 1:724; Evans, “Covet,” ISBE 1: 77–798; Schunk, “Wanting and Desiring,” BD 6:866–67; Talley, “‫חמד‬,” NIDOTTE 2:167. 34.  Note also the contribution of Otto, Theologische Ethik, 169. In spite of his “practical” approach, Otto allowed that the phrase “gessinungsethisch” (ethics of “intention”) may be justified from the wider perspective of the Bible. 35. Thus, Jackson, “Liability for Mere Intention,” 203ff., and our review of scholarship; cf. also Mayer, “‫אוה‬,” TDOT 1:134–37; and Williams, “‫אוה‬,” NIDOTTE 1:304–6. Cf. also Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1–11, 318, for ‫ חמד‬as conveying “the lust and inner desire for wealth.” W. S. Bruce, The Ethics of the Old Testament (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1960) 179, traced the progression of the Ten Commandments from the laws against “theft, and slander, to this concluding command which enters the inward province of desire and motive” (outside of civil jurisprudence). “It looks ultimately to the cultivation” of a right spirit. An ethical/religious approach was also taken by Daube (Aspects of Roma, 163), who points out that, while the courts were busy with “provable theft,” this commandment is addressed to the conscience”; cf. Cohen, Jewish and Roman Law, 1:79, for the distinction between “law” and “pure morals.” K. van der Toorn also points to an ethical level more profound than the one represented by the behavioral code. In his view, it is the “intention that is of importance here, the disposition that carrie the action” (Sin and Sanction in Israel and Mesopotamia [Maastricht: van Gorcum, 1985] 37–38). 36.  For this view, see also Stuart, Exodus, 467, which argues that “The command-

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God’s justice, but not, at this period, in the jurisprudenceof man.” 37 Thus, it is plausible ‫ חמד‬may also be seen as a “point” of intersection of inner thoughts with action, possibly a sign of later sophistication antism. Etan Levine took a similar approach to Jackson’s, but one that emphasized more the contemporary legal understanding of this issue. He argued that “contemporary juridical thought dismisses ab initio any suggestion of liability for emotion, including coveting, however intense.” 38 As such, coveting or even “clear intent” cannot ipso facto “establish juridical liability,” though “both coveting and intent are significant elements in a wide variety of biblical literature.” Levine analyzed a number of rabbinic and Greco-­Roman texts and concluded that the ancients were sensitive to the “existential question of human liability for coveting,” especially when the acting out of the “coveting” would “have constituted an exceptionally heinous deed.” As such, there existed at the very least a “philosophical basis” for the notion of the “malum in se declared by the injunction ‘You shall not covet.’” 39 Indeed, a violation does occur once a person covets, but it cannot be prose­cuted in a court of law. The philosophical-theological basis remains, because Israel was bound by the divine, legal obligation to “be holy, just as God is holy” (Lev 19:2). That is why “to covet was a malum in se and a punishable offense in God’s system of justice.” 40 A more theologico-mystical dimension of this argument has been put forward by scholars like Schunk, Malina, and Keener, who pointed to the ancient concept of the “evil eye” and the inherent power that may bring unfortunate consequences. Even though their analysis took into account more primary sources than just the passages from Exodus and Deuteronomy, it still remains a creative reading of these texts. 41 This interpretation ment has no penalty attached; improper coveting is hardly enforceable by human beings.” Jackson, “Liability for Mere Intention,” 204–5, argues that, just because in some instances the verb ‫ חמד‬culminates into action does not impose these meanings into all the contexts where the verb appears. This, especially since ‫ חמד‬also appears in other contexts “where there is no necessity that the desire should culminate into action.” 37.  Ibid., 213. Jackson denies “that the Decalogue is only ethics and that no means of enforcement was conceived to exist.” He merely focuses in this context on the theological idea of divine justice. 38. E. Levine, Heaven and Earth, Law and Love: Studies in Biblical Thought (BZAW 303; Berlin: de Gruyer, 2000) 142–43, emphasis added. Hence the dictum cogitationis poenam nemo paitur (“No one is punished for thinking of a crime”). 39.  Ibid., 143–44. 40.  Ibid., 159. 41.  Schunk, “Wanting and Desiring,” ABD 6:867; B. Malina, “Envy—The Most Grievous of All Evils,” in his The New Testament World (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2001) 108–33; C. Keener, Matthew (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999) 186–

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recognizes both the importance of the practical outcome of “coveting” and the meaning of ‫ חמד‬as a connotation for “inner thoughts” alone. In a slightly different vein, Marshall argued for a dual theological motif as the setting of the first, second, and the third commandment. He believes the first (two) and the last commandments (against idol worship and coveting) “are essentially rooted in the heart and mind of the covenant people” and “encircle a set of principles that properly order worship and community relations.” 42 Finally, Kaiser agreed with the thesis that biblical morality is concerned both with the outward act and the inward response of the person toward God (piety) or fellow human beings (ethics). 43 Kaiser made, however, a distinction between “liability for acts expressing intentions” (e.g., the tenth commandment) and “liability for mere intention” (Gen 6:5; 1 Kgs 8:18; Job 31:1, 9–10). In conclusion, we may say that one must take into account both the “practical” concern of the biblical authors as well as the possibility that they viewed the law as a tool in the hands of the divine, not only, human justice. Evidently, the Bible considers offenses also from the more theological perspective of divine justice, at the level of inner attitudes, without yet circumventing the practical application of the law. 44 We may say that it is the 89; A. Cohen, Everyman’s Talmud (New York: Schocken, 1995) 270–74. Malina argues that “the eye served to express the innermost dispositions and desires of the heart.” This phenomenon appears in Jer 22:17, namely, “Your eyes and heart are intent only on dishonest gain, bloodshed,” (‫)כי אין עיניך ולבך כי אם־על־בצעך‬. Keener too points out the relationship between the heart (inner coveting) and the eyes (visible coveting) in Num 15:39; Prov 21:4; Ezek 6:9; Qoh 11:9, or the eyes alone (Ezek 18:6; 20:7–8; 23:27). Schunk too understands the “optical-mental desire . . . as a sin.” Finally, Cohen draws a link between the eye and the inward envy or, as he calls it, “an ungenerous disposition” (see Deut 38:54; Prov 38:22; 36:6). 42.  Marshall, “The Decalogue,” 79. 43.  W. Kaiser, Toward Old Testament Ethics (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1986) esp. pp. 8–13. Unlike Jackson, Kaiser extends Gemsler’s list to include passages from Psalms, Proverbs, and the Prophets. He then points to several principles: the significance of the heart, the act versus the type of person, the role of vices like pride, the role of thoughts, counsels, intentions, outward sacrifice versus inward intent, and the role of intention in criminal cases. 44. Thus Kaufman, “Structure of Deuteronomic Law,” 142, who believes that the Deuteronomic Law “was well aware of the impossibility of effectively policing such a prohibition.” Even so, it strongly discouraged “even patterns of thought that might lead a man to commit” a crime such as adultery, theft, and false witness.” One notices, then, an approach that enjoins human to divine jurisdiction in the attempt to deal with “mental processes” that might lead to civil crimes; similarly, Jackson, “Liability for Mere Intention,” 212–13, and Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1–11, 316ff.

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factor of “divine calculation” that makes pure “intent” a pressing issue for the biblical authors. 45

Conclusions and Emerging Patterns of Thought in the Bible In the previous pages, we have examined the spectrum of scholarly interpretations in the debate over the meaning of the notion of “coveting.” We have noted that scholars have generally argued for one of three approaches to this problem. First, some understood “coveting” as intrins­ icly embedded in the act of misappropriating someone else’s property. This approach has been called the “traditionalist” reading of the text. Second, others approached the phenomenon of coveting as a unity of the practical with the mental, the act with the intention of finally obtaining frauduously another man’s property. In this sense, coveting takes on a more emotional/ psychological dimension, but it never results in culpability apart from its material fulfillment. In the words of Levine, it is never a malum in se (evil in itself). Third is the approach that reads the tenth commandment more like a theological principle. This reading does not necessarily exclude the relation to the act, for the simple reason that entities such as a man’s wife, house, field, and slaves are mentioned in the same passage. But nor does it depend—for its negative “effectiveness”—exclusively on a possible final act. In relation to this third interpretation, we raised the question whether biblical law ever prosecuted offenses of “mere coveting” in a court of law. And the answer is very rarely or not likely at all. However, this same interpretation produced a collateral concept, namely, “divine justice.” One of the conclusions that seems to have been accepted by the majority opinion is the fact that “coveting” will (at the very least) come under the punishment of divine justice, or the “heavenly court of law.” 46 We may confidently say now that that background of this theme is biblical. 47 One may consider the following passages: 45.  This is not to say “that the Decalogue is only ethics and that no means of enforcement was conceived to exist.” Rather, the “means of enforcement was the power of God to punish under the terms of the covenant by which Israel accepted the law” (Jackson, “Liability for Mere Intention,” 212–13). Jackson also refers to 1 Kgs 8:18, 1 Sam 16:7, and Gen 6:5 as possible texts that support the notion of “liability [or praise] for mere intention.” 46.  In my study The Concept of Intention, I developed this theme as it unfolded in the thought of Philo of Alexandria and the Early Rabbinic Literature (the final two chapters). 47.  For the dictum ‫“( פטור מדיני אדם וחייב בדיני שמים‬innocent in the judgment of man, but guilty in the judgment of heavens”), see my The Concept of Intention, esp. pp. 380ff.

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Aurelian Botica ‫כל־דרך־איש ישר בעיניו ותכן לבות יהוה׃‬ Every way of man is right in his eyes, but the Lord weights the hearts. (Prov 21:2) ‫אלהים נצב בעדת־אל בקרב אלהים ישפט׃‬ God is seated in the divine assembly, in the midst of the gods He judges. (Ps 82:1) ‫ויהוה צבאות שפט צדק בהן כליות ולב אראה נקמתך םהם כי אליך גליתי את־‬ ‫ריבי׃‬ But, O Lord of hosts, who judges righteously, who tests the heart and the mind, let me see your vengeance upon them, for to you have I committed my cause.” (Jer 11:20) ‫בחנת לבי פקדת לילה צרפתני בל־תמצא׃‬ You have tried my heart, you have visited me by night, you have tested me, and you will find nothing. (Ps 17:3)

The Bible seems to include numerous other texts that reveal the transition from a legal/material, to a more theological/ethical understanding of the law. One should not misunderstand this conclusion. One neither cancelled nor replaced or marginalized the other. They coexisted, and the Philonic and rabbinic traditions abound in attestations of this phenomenon. In order to understand the dynamics of this concept, I want to conclude with listing a number of categories that the Scripture used in order to describe the divine justice: the searching and testing of the human heart (see table 1). 48 Table 1 shows a number of lexemes that the Bible uses in order to express the entire range of verbs and verb-objects of “divine testing” (as part of divine justice). The first three rows list the internal organs and the physiological, spiritual, and the intellectual-emotive functions of the human body. The biblical authors often used these as objects of verbs of seeing, perceiving, knowing, testing, searching and visiting. 49 Evidently, the majority of these 48.  Ibid., 140. 49.  For a selective bibliography on the concept of divine testing, see R. Pettazzoni, The All Knowing God (London: Methuen, 1956) 97–114; W. Eichrodt, Theology of the Old Testament (2 vols.; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1967) 2:144–45; H.-J. Kraus, Theology of the Psalms (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1986) 145–47; C. A. Briggs, “A Study of the Use of ‫ לב‬and ‫ לבב‬in the Old Testament,” in Semitic Studies in Memory of Rev. Dr. Alexander Kohut (ed. G. A. Kohut; Berlin: Calvary, 1897) 94–105; H. Lesêtre, “Le Coeur,” DB 2:822–26; F. Baumgärtel, “καρδία,” TDNT 3:605–14; J. Behm, “ἔννοια,” TDNT 4:968–73; H. Preisker, “νεφρός,” TDNT 4:911; T. F. Glasson, “‘Visions of Thy Head,’ The Heart and the Head in Bible Psychology,” ExpTim 81 (1970) 247–48; C. Maurer, “συνείδησις,”

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Table 1. Categories for Divine Justice Idioms for Internal Organs

Physiological and Spiritual/ Psychological Functions Intellectual/ Emotive Functions

Idioms for “Divine Examination”

‫לב‬ ‫כליה‬ ‫קרב‬ ‫בטן‬ ‫נפש‬ ‫רוח‬ ‫יצר‬ ‫חשב‬/‫מחשבה‬ ‫זמה‬/‫מזמה‬/‫זמם‬ ‫דמה‬ ‫חרש‬ ‫הרה‬ ‫ראה‬ ‫בין‬ ‫ידע‬ ‫חזה‬ ‫בחן‬ ‫צרף‬ ‫חקר‬ ‫פקד‬ ‫חפש‬ ‫תכן‬ ‫דרש‬ ‫נסא‬

heart—mind, brain, thoughts kidneys—emotion, thought, feeling bosom, inwards—the inward life womb—inmost soul soul—inward life spirit, breath—inward life inclination, striving, predisposition intention,thought, plan, intention (to think, intend) devise, purpose, intention (to devise, conceive) to imagine, incline to . . . intend to devise, conceive, scheme to conceive, devise, give birth to . . . to see, look to perceive, know to know to see to test, examine to test to search to visit, test, search to search to probe, evaluate, measure to search, seek to try, test

appear in passages that describe the way God surveys the affairs of humans and also their thoughts and intentions. Divine justice is a key concept in the world view of the Scripture. TDNT 7:898–919; G. Bertram, “ὕβρις,” TDNT 8:295–307; D. Kelermann, “‫כליות‬,” TDOT 7:175–82; R. Chisholm, “‫כליה‬,” NIDOTTE 2:656–57; J. E. Currid, “Why Did God Harden Pharaoh’s Heart,” BRev 9/6 (1993) 46–51; R. C. Dentan, “Heart,” IDB 2:549–550; idem, “Kidneys,” IDB 3:9–10; T. Durant, “The ‘Kidneys,’ Organs of Discernment,” Eternity 22/1 (1971) 17–18; W. Evans, “Covet,” ISBE 1:797–98; K. Seybold, “‫חשבה‬, ‫חשב‬,” TDOT 5:228–45; H.-J. Fabry, “‫לב‬,” TDOT 7:399–437; A. Luc, “‫לב‬,” NIDOTTE 2:749–54; B. Malina, “Envy—the Most Grievous of All Evils,” 108–33; T. E. Fretheim, “Will of God in the OT,” ABD 6:914–20; I. Nowell, “The Concept of Purity of Heart in the Old Testament,” in Purity of Heart in Early Ascetic and Monastic Literature (ed. H. A. Luckman and L. Kulzer; Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1999) 17–29.

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Finally, with the risk of oversimplifying the data, we may attempt to sketch a possible historical development of the notion of “inward culpability.” 50 First, we believe that some of the earliest and most basic statements on culpability (even “inward culpability”) in the Bible come from the area of criminal law. 51 Second, the phenomenon of (inward) culpability appears in the cultic and other legal texts that deal with temple ritual and human (legal and/or societal) relations. It is mostly at this point that the notion of “divine justice” acquires an important status in the everyday life of biblical men and women. Third, the Hebrew Bible abounds in references to the importance of inwardness in texts that describe everyday religious devotion and (attitudes in) human relations; whether one refers to praiseworthiness or liability, in the eyes of God and/or in the eyes of the community. 50.  The (forgivable) temptation would be to view this exclusively as an evolutionary process. And it may be so. Yet, a problem appears when some of the texts from the third stage of the formation of “inward culpability” show up in some of the earlier texts in the Bible. 51.  See these individual chapters of my Concept of Intention: “The Role of Intention in Criminal Law” (ch. 1, pp. 9–49), “The Role of Intention in Cultic/Ritual Law” (ch. 2, pp. 51–94), “The Role of Intention in Non-Action Cases” (ch. 3, pp. 95–168),”The Role of Intention in Philo of Alexandria” (with all three areas, ch. 4, pp. 169–318), and “The Role of Intention in Early Rabbinic Literature” (all three areas; ch. 5, pp. 319–442).

The Book of Giants and the Greek Gilgamesh Jeffrey L. Cooley Introduction In 1976, Milik published the Aramaic fragments of Enoch from Qumran. 1 One of the surprising discoveries of his work was that two fragments of the Book of Giants contained the name of the Mesopotamian hero Gilgamesh. Another fragment, he claimed, referred to the hero’s dreaded enemy from the epic, Humbaba. This was exciting news indeed: everybody’s favorite king of Uruk survived the disappearance of traditional Mesopotamian culture. The discovery reinforced the generally accepted notion— asserted by Milik, among others—that many themes and motifs found in Jewish apocalyptic literature in general, and Enochic literature in particular, had a Mesopotamian background. 2 The Book of Giants (BG) is a piece of Jewish Second Temple literature that largely disappeared from the Jewish and Christian traditions. 3 The book was adopted by members of the Manichean religion, who seem to have adapted and translated it into a number of languages. 4 Milik, who was Author’s note: It is with deep gratitude that I thank Professor Greengus for his years of kindness, encouragement, and sage counsel. I would like to thank Martin Schwartz (UC Berkeley), Yonder Gillihan (Boston College), Nancy L. Erickson (Zondervan Aca­ demic), and an anonymous reviewer for their outstanding advice on this work. In addition to this, I am in debt to Matthew Richey for his significant assistance transforming this from a lecture script to a formal article. Any outstanding errors remain, of course, my responsibility. 1.  J. Milik, The Books of Enoch: Aramaic Fragments of Qumrân Cave 4 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1976). 2. See most recently H. Kvanvig, Primeval History: Babylonian, Biblical, and Enochic: An Intertextual Reading (Leiden: Brill, 2011). 3.  Though significant elements of the storyline have been preserved in the Midrash of Shemhazai and ʿAzaʾel. 4.  Middle Persian, Uygur, Parthian, Coptic, Sogdian. The Manichean texts were published beginning in the mid-20th century; see W. B. Henning, “The Book of Giants,” BSOAS 11 (1943) 52–74; and later W. Sundermann, Mittelpersiches und parthische kosmogonische und Parabeltexte der Manichäer (Schriften zur Geschichte und Kultur des Alten Orients 8. Berliner Turfantexte 4; Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1984); and

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working on the Enoch fragments from Qumran, noted that some of the bits that mentioned Enoch did not come from the book of Enoch in any of its surviving versions. Milik realized, however, that they did correspond with some of the details of the later Manichean work. The BG is painfully fragmentary in both the extant Manichean and Qumran texts. Nonetheless, a general storyline can be reconstructed. 5 The story revolves around the giants, who are the children of the watchers, themselves the sons of God who descended from heaven and mated with the daughters of men (based on Gen 6:1–4). These giants are really quite terrible beings; they are guilty of all sorts of violent acts against plants, animals, and humanity. The antediluvian sage Enoch is informed of their behavior, and the giants talk among themselves about what they have done. The giants (it is not clear which ones) experience a pair of dream visions, and one of them, Mahaway, travels to Enoch for assistance in interpreting them. The giant is sent back with two tablets, which relate their impending judgment by God. Of course, this judgment is not good, and the giants ponder their situation and discuss their fate. It is not clear why, but something then appears to dissuade them from such a bleak view of their fate. The giants have another pair of dream visions (again, it is not clear who has them), and again they send Mahaway to Enoch for interpretation. He announces the clear and certain punishment of the Flood. The giants will not escape a soggy-bottomed fate. The story seems to conclude with an announcement of humanity’s impending postdiluvian contentment. In light of the realization that Enochic literature seems to have been influenced to some degree by Mesopotamian traditions, several scholars have since reexamined the Gilgamesh passages with a focus on what the author of the BG may or may not have known about the original Babylonian epic. Did he have a copy of the text in Akkadian or even Aramaic? Did he know about the story through oral tradition? Scholars also question the motivation for including the Mesopotamian figures among the giants in the Jewish work. Is the characters’ inclusion polemical? Satirical? Something else? Stuckenbruck has argued that the author of the BG borrowed motifs and themes from the epic, but with no real trace of polemic, while Reeves has asserted that the author of the BG actually had an Aramaic translation of the epic and deliberately transformed the hero into a demon for po“Ein weiteres Fragment aus Manis Gigantenbuch,” in Orientalia J. Duchesne-Guillemin Emerito Oblata (Acta Iranica 23; Leiden: Brill, 1984) 491–505. 5.  This summary is based on L. T. Stuckenbruck’s reconstruction in The Book of Giants from Qumran: Texts, Translation, and Commentary (TSAJ 63; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997).

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lemical purposes. 6 Reeves’s and Stuckenbruck’s studies, which appeared in the 1990s, preceded George’s monumental edition of Gilgamesh. 7 George’s work initiated a new flurry of articles, once again addressing the issue of the Mesopotamian hero in the Jewish pseudepigraphon. Jackson reads Gilgamesh in the BG as anti-language; the Babylonian hero represents a very specific aspect of Mesopotamian culture, namely, forbidden foreign knowledge. 8 Goff also stresses that the thematic correspondences between the epic and the BG show that the author of the latter had specific knowledge of the former, though most likely in oral form. 9 He points out, however, that the author of the BG does not employ this knowledge in a polemical manner but instead uses it in his own presentation of the evil nature, acts, and ultimate punishment of the antediluvian giants. Finally, in his article on the origins of the watchers, the fathers of the giants in Enochic literature, Annus casts a characteristically vast net. 10 He broadens the relevant Assyriological data against which the character of the watchers from Enochic literature is viewed and adds several novel insights. Important for this discussion is his assertion that Gilgamesh was counted among the giants for a number of reasons, particularly the fact that, as one who communicated with Utnapishtim, he was identified as a tradent of antediluvian knowledge. It is this very knowledge that made the watchers and their children, the giants, so reprehensible. The inclusion of the Mesopotamian hero is for Annus (as with Reeves and Jackson) a deliberate inversion of the character by the Jewish author. 11 Though several of these scholars attribute inspiration for delving again into this issue to George’s recent publication of the epic, all of them have 6.  Idem, “Giant Mythology and Demonology: From the Ancient Near East to the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Die Dämonen—Demons. Die Dämonologie der israelitisch-jüdischen und frühchristlichen Literatur im Kontext ihrer Umwelt (ed. A. Lange, H. Lichtenberger, and K. F. D. Römheld; Tübingen: Mohr Seibeck, 2003) 332 and J. C. Reeves, Jewish Lore in Manichaean Cosmogony: Studies in the Book of Giants Traditions (MHUC 14; Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 1992) 126. 7. A. George, The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic: Introduction, Critical Edition and Cuneiform Texts (2 vols.; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003). 8. D. Jackson, “Demonising Gilgameš,” in Gilgameš and the World of Assyria: Proceedings of the Conference held at Mandelbaum House, The University of Sydney, 21– 23 July 2004 (ed. J. Azize and N. Weeks; ANESSup 21; Leuven: Peeters, 2007) 107–14. 9.  If this is what he means by “legends”; see M. Goff, “Gilgamesh the Giant: The Qumran Book of Giants’ Appropriation of Gilgamesh Motifs,” DSD 16 (2009) 221–53, esp. p. 253. 10. A. Annus, “On the Origin of the Watchers: A Comparative Study of the Antediluvian Wisdom in Mesopotamian and Jewish Traditions,” JSP 19 (2010) 277–320. 11.  Ibid., 282–83.

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rejected George’s sage counsel: Gilgamesh references in “post-cuneiform” texts recount merely that Gilgamesh was a prominent monarch and a “magic power.” 12 These two facts would have been preserved via the promulgation of Babylonian technical knowledge (for example, mantic and exorcistic traditions) rather than through the transmission of the epic itself. 13 In the wake of these scholars’ studies, I would like to readdress two questions. In the first place, what (if any) knowledge did the author of the BG have of the epic? Second, why is the author of the BG referring to foreign characters at all?

Gilgamesh and Humbaba in the BG: Technical or Literary Borrowing? I want to begin by reexamining scholars’ claims of references to knowledge of specific material derived from the Babylonian epic. For the sake of brevity, I focus here on the arguments for direct borrowing that appear to be the strongest. A number of scholars who argue for the BG author’s direct knowledge of the epic point out the prominent place dreams and their interpretations play in both texts. In Stuckenbruck’s reconstruction, for example, Gilgamesh either has one of the ominous dreams or interprets one of the other giant’s dreams to mean that the group will not, in fact, suffer a collective punishment. 14 For Stuckenbruck, this means that the epic’s focus on the “illusionary search for immortality . . . helped shape the storyline of the BG.” 15 To be sure, the Gilgamesh of the epic has a number of dreams which are ominous in nature. Regardless of who has the dreams in the BG, this parallel is indeed striking, but is it so profoundly coincidental that it cannot be explained by reference to native Jewish and Israelite tradition? We know that oneiromancy was one of the acceptable methods of divination in ancient Israel (for example, 1 Sam 28:6). We also know that it is in Israelite-­ Jewish tradition one of the ways by which the god of Israel communicates 12.  George, The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic, 1:69. 13.  Ibid. Note, however, that Goff claims that his assertions are consistent with George, who does admit that there might have been an Aramaic version of the epic, but that any legacy of plot or themes “were transformed by a variety of intermediate stages, about which we can know almost nothing” (ibid., 1:70; Goff, “Gilgamesh the Giant,” 253). Clearly, though, Goff is rejecting George’s basic conclusion regarding the survival of the character of Gilgamesh. The characterization of this survival is really the crux of the issue. 14.  Stuckenbruck, “Giant Mythology,” 329–32. 15.  Ibid., 332.

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his intentions not only to his own people but to foreigners, including his people’s adversaries (For example, Genesis 20, 39–41; Judges 7). In the biblical tradition it is often God’s righteous servant who has to interpret the dream for the foreign potentate (for example, Joseph and Daniel). 16 That oneiromancy is a native Israelite tradition and one that is not necessarily adopted in exile is clear from the fact that it occurs as a feature in other West Semitic works at Ugarit. 17 The most parsimonious explanation is that the use of oneiromancy in the BG has a native rather than a foreign origin. A Jewish author could have easily composed such a narrative without any knowledge of the epic’s themes or individual pericopes. It goes without saying that the use of dreams in the BG would have been wholly understandable to an ancient Jewish reader familiar with solely biblical and Jewish traditions without any recourse to foreign literature. Several other features of Gilgamesh in the BG are cited as evidence of direct knowledge of the epic on the part of the author. One potential connection is Gilgamesh’s semidivine status; in the epic the king is considered two-thirds divine, just as the BG’s giants are said to be the offspring of the sons of God, the watchers, and the daughters of men. A second correspondence is Gilgamesh’s gigantic size. A recently published fragment of the Standard Babylonian epic from Ugarit now shows that, in the most widely known tradition in Mesopotamia, the king was considered a giant. 18 Third, the Gilgamesh of the epic is considered a tradent of antediluvian knowledge; this is pointed out in both tablets I and XI of the SB text. 19 As a giant in the Enochic tradition, one of Gilgamesh’s sins is revealing such forbidden knowledge to humanity. One possible difficulty involves the BG’s application of all of these characteristics to giants in general, regardless of the individual characters’ origins. That is to say: in the Book of Giants, as a giant, Gilgamesh is a giant. This characterization would still be the case if, as George maintains, Gilgamesh comes into the BG tradition simply because 16.  At Qumran we even see, in Methuselah’s trip to Enoch in order to confirm Noah’s parentage, the specific motif found in the BG: travelling to a distant realm to visit the sage Enoch for advice (1QapGenar, cols. 2–5). 17.  In the Kirta story, for example, El reveals to the king, via a dream, how to restore his dynasty (E. L. Greenstein, “Kirta,” in Ugaritic Narrative Poetry [ed. S. B. Parker; SBLWAW 9; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997] 12–13 [Tablet I, i.33–43]). See other examples from Ugarit and discussion of biblical and Ugaritic materials for oneiromancy in A. Jeffers, Magic and Divination in Ancient Palestine and Syria (SHANE 8; Leiden: Brill, 1996) 125–43. 18. A. George, “The Gilgamesh Epic at Ugarit,” AuOr 25 (2007) 247–48. 19.  Tablet I, lines 7–8; Tablet XI, lines 8–10 (cf. lines 281–82) (idem, The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic, 1:538–39, 702–3, 720–21).

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of his association with the technical knowledge of exorcistic and mantic practice with no knowledge of the character’s background in Babylonian literature on the part of the BG’s author. The purported inclusion of Humbaba in the BG further highlights the problem of deriving Gilgamesh’s inclusion in the Jewish work on the basis of his character in the Babylonian epic. As Goff points out, Hobabish (Humbaba’s supposed name in the BG) is never in conflict with Gilgamesh, nor is he related to a forest. 20 There are very few specific points by which one can connect the character in the BG to the epic. He is a monster in the Babylonian tradition, but he has no relationship with antediluvian knowledge. Since the character’s name in the Babylonian epic is consistently written with the divine determinative in Akkadian (dḫum-wa-wa; tablet III 48), there is little doubt that the author of that work considered him in some way divine, but there is no indication of mixed divine-human status. Unlike Gilgamesh, who has a career in the underworld long after his death, Humbaba dies and remains dead. Outside of the epic, Humbaba appears primarily in the Babylonian teratological tradition, but not as a living player; unusual animal and human births are simply said to look like the monster. 21 In a similar vein, the monstrous face of the Humbaba was an esthetic analogy used in Mesopotamia to describe kinds of ornamentation.  22 These uses of the Humbaba outside of the epic are all technical in nature. If we are to find both Gilgamesh and Humbaba in the BG and neither of their characters there can be traced back to the epic, we have to ask: What do Gilgamesh and Humbaba have in common—besides their features in the epic—that might make them appropriate giants in the Jewish tradition? As George pointed out, they are both featured in technical literature. 23 Gilgamesh is featured in exorcistic and antiwitchcraft rituals. Humbaba is featured in artistic terminology and in mantic texts. This implies that, if the names are found in the BG, they are there because of their foreign technical associations and are not used in reference to the epic. This aligns quite well with the sinful nature of the giants in Enochic literature as tradents of foreign technical knowledge, whether this be magic, divination, or skilled metallurgy. 20.  Goff, “Gilgamesh the Giant,” 252. 21.  See texts and citations in George, The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic, 1:145–46. 22.  For examples and references, see ibid., 1:144–47. He is also possibly addressed in a single incantation, but the reading is very uncertain (ibid., 1:147). 23.  In contrast to the situation with Gilgamesh, George does not cite Humbaba’s location in technical literature as the reason for his survival outside the cuneiform tradition (ibid., 1:147).

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The Names of Gilgamesh and Humbaba in the BG Manuscripts With all of this in mind, it might be helpful to look at the supposed references to the Gilgamesh and Humbaba in the scrolls themselves. In 4Q530 2 ii 2, we read ‫—גלגמיס‬the final samek is a bit unusually shaped, but not so much as to cause concern of any of the editors. 24 The real question is whether one should read the fifth letter as a yod or a waw. Milik and all who followed him read the letter as a yod, approximating a transliteration of the vowel as it appears in the Akkadian tradition. However, the letter could just as well be a waw as indicated by a survey of the other waws in the manuscript, including those appearing just below the name (lines 3, 4, and 5). An examination of the word ‫ יומיא‬in another fragment of the same scroll (4Q530 3 line 2, which seems to be a different hand) reveals that the two letters on this particular scroll are indistinguishable, as they are in many manuscripts from Qumran. Thus, the reading of the name could be either ‫ גלגמיס‬or ‫גלגמוס‬. The second supposed reference to our hero is significantly more difficult to read. The name in 4Q531 22 is usually reconstructed as ֹ‫ג]ל[גֹ]מיש‬. 25 However, a simple glance at the manuscript indicates that this reading is far from secure. First (besides the missing gimels) the yod is clear, but—as in the case with the fifth letter of Gilgamesh’s name in 4Q530 2 ii 2—it is not certain that it is a yod rather than a waw. Second, only the top of the šin/śin is preserved, and I suggest it might not be a šin/śin at all but could in fact be a samek. Reading this last letter as šin/śin, of course, would give a reading closer to our approximation of the Akkadian name. Still, in light of the clear reading in 4Q530 2 ii 2, I suggest reading the final letter as a samek. One might compare the samek at the end of line 3 in ‫ בחסן‬and note the crease in the manuscript in line 22 (where the name appears) that could have caused the closed top of the samek to appear as if it were the two leftto-right diagonal strokes of a šin/śin. 26 I would propose a reading of 4Q531 22 as ‫וס‬/‫ג]ל[ג]י‬, ending not with šin/śin, but rather with waw or yod samek. How do we decide whether to read yod or samek in these two manuscripts? The only other Aramaic attestation of Gilgamesh’s name—in the commentary on the patriarchal history of Theodore bar Koni, the 24.  For 4Q530 2, see E. Puech, Discoveries in the Judaean Desert XXXI. Qumrân Grotte 4 XXII. Textes Araméens. Première Partie 4Q529–549 (Oxford: Clarendon, 2001) 28–38 (text, translation, and commentary) and plate 2 (photograph). 25.  Ibid., 74–78 (text, translation, and commentary) and plate 4 (photograph). 26.  In either case, it appears that the sound indicated by the šin/śin is undoubtedly an /s/ rather than a /š/, as per the first attestation of the name in 4Q530 2 ii 2.

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8th-century Nestorian church father—is gmygws, ending in waw-samek. 27 While bar Koni’s attestation is admittedly much later, I suggest that this is how we read the final two letters in the fragments from Qumran as well: ‫גלגמוס‬. Aside from attesting to a consistent Aramaic transcription of the name’s ending, what is the relevance of this suggested reading for our discussion here? Before answering that question, I would like to reexamine the assumed references to Humbaba in the BG. The first of the two references (and the only one identified by Milik) occurs in 4Q203 3 3 and is read as ‫חובבש‬. 28 The writing here is crystal clear. But this is, of course, not Humbaba’s name—one must explain the final šin/śin. Milik suggested that the final šin/śin is an appended ʾyš, “man”—indicating that the figure is some sort of Mischwesen. 29 I would assert that, had Milik not identified Gilgamesh in the BG, we would not be reading ‫ חובבש‬as Humbaba in 4Q203 3 3 at all. 30 Even disregarding the problematic šin/śin ending, the very form of the first part of the name itself is curious. In OB texts, the name is usually written d ḫu-wa-wa, 31 which is the spelling consistently (but not exclusively) seen in 27.  A possible variant is gnmgws (R. Hespel and R. Draguet, Théodore bar Koni: Livre des Scolies [recension de Séert]. I Mimrè I-V [CSCO 431, Syr. 187; Louvain: Peeters, 1981] 130); see also George, The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic, 1:89. M. Lewin 2 (line 8), 25 offered gmygmws for this passage (Die Scholien des Theodor bar Kônî zur Patriarchengeschichte (Genesis XII–L) [Berlin: Itzkowski, 1905] 2 [line 8], 25). 28.  L. T. Stuckenbruck, “4QEnoch Giantsa ar,” in Discoveries in the Judaean Desert XXXVI. Qumran Cave 4 XXVI. Cryptic Texts and Miscellanea, Part 1 (ed. Stephen Pfann et al; Oxford: Clarendon, 2000) 13–15 (text, translation and commentary) and plate 1 (photograph). Note, Stuckenbruck identifies the fragmentary Gilgamesh citation appearing in 4Q531 22 12, as appearing instead in 4Q531 17 12, reflecting Stuckenbruck’s alternate numbering of the fragments of that manuscript (Stuckenbruck, DJD XXXVI, 14 n. 31, 15; see also Stuckenbruck, The Book of Giants, 141–77). 29.  I believe the case for Humbaba’s name in the second attestation, 4Q530, to be particularly weak (as I will discuss below). Nonetheless, there are a number of problems with this first attestation, not the least of which is Puech’s reconstruction of the second attestation of Humbaba’s name in 4Q530 2 ii 2, which ends with a samek! If the latter citation is indeed referring to the same character as the former, then Milik’s suggestion cannot stand. Stuckenbruck notes this difficulty and posits another eastern origin for the final samek, possibly originating with a language spoken by an unidentified people group settled in Philistia by the Assyrians in the 8th century (“Giant Mythology,” 328). On the other hand, M. Schwartz posits that the samek ending was attached because of the influence of the same ending in Gilgamesh’s name in 4Q530 2 ii 2 (“Qumran, Turfan, Arabic Magic, and Noah’s Name,” Res Orientales 14 [2002] 234). 30.  Although the same name appears in the Manichean version of the BG (minus any reference to Gilgamesh in the extant fragments), Henning did not make the connection to the Babylonian monster (“The Book of Giants,” 52–74). 31.  OB Tablet 3:133; see George, The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic, 1:199.

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75

the mantic tradition. 32 An early Neo-Assyrian fragment from Assur reads m ḫu-ba-ba, the closest approximation of what we see in the BG. 33 But in the SB version, which is the most likely ultimate source from which we would expect the author of the BG to derive his knowledge, the name is consistently written dḫum-ba-ba. 34 Undoubtedly, one could derive ‫ חובב‬from this (a mem can assimilate, after all), but given the other problems presented here, such a derivation becomes increasingly difficult. The second supposed reference to this name in the BG appears immediately following Gilgamesh in 4Q530 2 ii 2 and is heavily reconstructed by Puech: ‫ו˚ח˚[ו]ב˚בס‬. 35 The samek ending poses a significant problem for understanding the name as a combination of Humbaba and ʾyš, as Milik proposed. In any case, this reconstruction seems to be more the product of wishful thinking than paleography. Even the final bet and samek are questionable. 36 I offer no alternate reading of this passage. As for the name ‫ חובבש‬itself, is it possible that the name Humbaba is not the reading in either passage? Is an alternate Hebrew or Aramaic etymology equally as plausible for the name of this giant? I would suggest the author of the BG invented the name, perhaps combining ‫חוב‬, “debt” and ‫בוׁש‬, “shame” or “sickness,” or, as is more likely, with ‫ביׁש‬, “bad, evil,” thereby giving us a moniker that means something like “wicked” or “shameful debt.” The significance of the name ‫ חובבׁש‬is not as straightforward as the current consensus represents it to be. Stuckenbruck’s rather thorough analysis of the giants’ names yielded little other than the possibility that they were all considered Mischwesen. 37 Notably, however, this conclusion did not reveal much about the actual choice or the forms of names employed by the author of the BG. 38 In light of this, it might be useful to examine the monikers of the compatriots of ‫חובבׁש‬. 32.  See citations in ibid., 1:145–46. There are a few OB variants including ḫu-bi-bi (A fragment from Harmel; ibid., 1:256 line 48) and dḫu-wa (OB tablet in the Shøyen collection; ibid., 1:234 line 16). 33.  Ibid., 1:358 line 19′. 34.  E.g., Tablet 2:221; ibid., 1:556. 35.  Puech, DJD XXXI, 28–32. 36.  Stuckenbruck does not reconstruct the name here, nor does his reading end with samek: ‫בה‬.] [.˚‫( ו‬The Book of Giants from Qumran, 205). 37.  Stuckenbruck, “Giant Mythology,” 320–32, 335–36. 38.  Note that the only morphological commonality of some of these names is the ending –yš which Milik, as mentioned above, thought indicated the composite animal nature of ‫חובבׁש‬. Milik’s suggesting has fundamental problems, as discussed (Stuckenbruck, “Giant Mythology,” 327–28).

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The names of the other giants in the BG, ʾOhyah, Hahyah, Mahaway, ʾAhiram, and (only partially preserved) ʾAdk? (‫אוהיה‬, ‫ההיה‬, ‫מהוי‬, ‫אחירם‬, and ‫)?אדכ‬, show no consistency and have heretofore remained unexplained as a group. I suggest, however, that most of these names, in addition to ‫חובבׁש‬, are simply invented. Though it could be that ‫ אחירם‬was intended to refer to a king of Byblos, it is more likely that the meaning of the name is transparent and particular to the cast of characters in the BG: “My brother is tall.” This is, after all, a perfectly legitimate name for a giant. 39 ‫אוהיה‬, ‫ההיה‬, and ‫ מהוי‬are significantly more opaque, but, as Stuckenbruck has pointed out, it is possible that the three are somehow derived from the verb “to be” in either Hebrew (‫ )היה‬or Aramaic (‫)הוי‬. Perhaps the three names are deliberate corruptions of the Tetragrammaton, or even playing on Yahweh’s self-identification to Moses in Exod 3:14 in which the verb ‫ היה‬is used in the first-person imperfect three times: ‫ויאמר אלהים אל־מׁשה אהיה אׁשר אהיה‬ ‫ויאמר כה תאמר לבני יׂשראל אהיה ׁשלחני אליכם‬, “‘I am who I am,” and he said, “Thus you will say to the Israelites, ‘I am sent me to you.’” This proposal is, of course, highly speculative. The name ‫ ?אדכ‬is at the edge of the fragment and the final letter is not entirely preserved, so I will not speculate here as to what it might have been. 40 Reeves further argued that the flood hero himself, Utnapishtim, appears in a later Manichaean version of the BG; the name is preserved in Middle Persian as ʾtnbyš, vocalized as At(a)nabīš. 41 However, this name does not appear in any of the Aramaic fragments. While the suggestion is appealing, a flood hero with this particular epithet is not very well-attested even in the native Mesopotamian tradition. 42 Outside the Epic of Gilgamesh and, more importantly, in the tradition that travelled internationally, it seems the flood hero was known by his Sumerian name, Ziusudra. This name is attested in both Berossos as Ξίσυθρος and Abydenus as Σίσουθρος/Σείσιθρος. 43 It is tell39.  Compare with similar wordplays in Genesis, such as the name of the first mighty man in Gen 10:8–9, ‫נמרד‬, “We will rebel,” undoubtedly foreshadowing the Tower of Babel story in Genesis 11; so too the names of the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah in Gen 14:2, ‫ ברע‬and ‫ברׁשע‬, “wickedly” and “evilly,” respectively. 40.  Stuckenbruck notes that the next letter in the name “could be dalet, waw, yod, or reš,” (DJD XXXVI, 14). In light of the name ‫אחירם‬, one is tempted to read the dalet in ‫ ?אדכ‬as reš, allowing a combination with the root ‫ארך‬, “long” (again, appropriate for a giant). Nonetheless, the ductus in this manuscript is quite clear and the reading of the dalet seems to be in little doubt. 41.  J. C. Reeves, “Utnapishtim in the Book of Giants?” JBL 112 (1993) 110–15. See also R. V. Huggins, “Noah and the Giants: A Response to John Reeves,” JBL 114 (1995) 103–19; and Stuckenbruck, “Giant Mythology,” 333–34. 42.  See discussion in George, The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic, 1:152–55. 43. For Berossos, see FGrH 680 F 4 (15); for Abydenus, FGrH 685 F 2b–3b.

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77

ing that Berossos chose to use the Sumerian name to relate his story rather than either of the Akkadian possibilities (that is, Utnapishtim or Atra­ḫasis), and I argue that this, the Sumerian name, was the primary form that was used popularly and was consequentially the most likely to have been received by neighboring cultures. 44 The ʾtnbyš preserved in the Manichaean texts has nothing to do with the flood hero, and, if it does actually derive from the Aramaic BG, is most likely an Aramaic name, perhaps incorporating ‫אתן‬, “you,” and ‫ביׁש‬, “evil, bad.” Again, it is an invented name intended to reveal the insidious nature of the giants. If my understanding is correct, the names of the giants do not all fall into a single pattern. They are not all borrowed from foreign literary traditions, nor are they all the names of the great pagan monarchs of hoary antiquity, nor do they all follow a single morphological type. Nonetheless, it is possible that the names represent a single agenda, that is, labeling the giants as a group whose existence and character are contrary to God’s intentions for humanity. Stuckenbruck, among others, was at least partially correct in noting that the giants were conceived of as hybrids of a sort, but they are not necessarily animal-human Mischewesen. 45 We must remember that they are not the offspring of humans and animals, but rather, the spawn of the daughters of men and the sons of God (Gen 6:1–4). The giants are living metaphors, reminding readers of the perils of crossing sacrosanct boundaries and the ways in which that upsets God’s objective; their names reflect this. The human-divine boundary is represented by a perversion of the human form, originally the image of God: ‫( אחירם‬contra Gen 1:26–27). Similarly, a reversal of God’s declaration of the goodness of humans as an element of creation (Gen 1:31) is evident in ‫( חובבׁש‬and perhaps ‫)אתנביׁש‬. The divine-human boundary is represented by corruptions of the divine name ‫יהוה‬, playing on the three-fold repetition at the disclosure of the Tetragrammaton in Exod 3:14: ‫אוהיה‬, ‫ההיה‬, and ‫מהוי‬. P. Buttmann’s emendation of the name of the flood hero in Lucian’s De Dea Syria (12) (Δευκαλίωνα τὸν Σκύθεα, “Deucalion the Scythian,” to Δευκαλίωνα τὸν Σισυθέα) in light of the name in Berossus and Abydenus has gained wide acceptance among scholars (Mythologus, oder Gesammelte Abhandlung über die Sagen des Alterthums [2 vols.; Berlin: Mylius, 1828–1829] 1:191–92). Nonetheless, as J. L. Lightfoot has argued, Buttmann’s suggestion has fundamental problems that make it rather unlikely (Lucian: On the Syrian Goddess [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003] 342–43). Thus, Lightfoot maintains the reading which the text preserves though he is admittedly at a loss to fully explain the epithet. 44.  Is it possible that the two forms of the name attested in Berossos and Abydenos attest to two separate occasions when the flood hero’s name crossed the Semitic-Greek linguistic border? 45.  Stuckenbruck, “Giant Mythology,” 335–36.

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Gilgamesh in the BG: A Babylonian or Hellenistic Character? If Gilgamesh’s name is to be found among the giants in the BG, it follows, then, that his name should also conform to this agenda. Let us assume for a moment that the Babylonian Humbaba is not there in the BG. Let us also assume that the reading of Gilgamesh’s name in the BG from Qumran is, as it is in bar Koni, ‫—גלגמוס‬ending in waw-samek. What might this indicate? We know that Greek names ending with -ος are commonly transcribed in the Aramaic script with waw-samek. 46 I propose that this is precisely what we are looking at when we see Gilgamesh’s name as it appears in the BG at Qumran—not a direct borrowing from Akkadian or Aramaic, but rather the transliteration of the name of the Babylonian hero as it would appear in Greek. Indeed, in the only actual Greek instance of the name—in writings of the second-century author Aelian—the final šin of Gilgamesh’s name is interpreted as the typical masculine singular nominative case ending: Γίλγαμος. 47 If we were to transcribe this into Aramaic, we would get ‫גלגמוס‬. What do these conclusions have to bear on our original questions? If this is indeed the way to understand the Aramaic text of the BG as it appears at Qumran, what might this indicate regarding the manner in which the reference made its way to the Jewish author? It supports the suggestion that the name came to the BG author as part of technical knowledge, as George maintains, but via a Greek mediator and not, as many others have contended, through some sort of Aramaic channel that also preserved some knowledge of the Babylonian epic. This is not to deny the general Mesopotamian influence we undoubtedly see in apocalyptic in general and in Enochic literature in particular. But we have to remember that the foreign intellectual challenge faced by Jews in the later Second Temple period was not directly from Babylon; it came primarily from Hellenism. As such, Gilgamesh—or Gilgamos, as the case may be—was not a figure of Babylonian heritage but a figure of Hellenistic tradition. And in light of the tendencies noted in my suggested readings of the other giant names in the BG, Gilgamesh’s name needs to be taken in a similar vein. The Hellenistic Gilgamos stood alongside a list of gigantic beings, who were living, perverse metaphors of the perilous outcome of crossing sacred boundaries. Gilgamos must be seen as a totem of the Hellenized magical tradition of the ancient Near East. The 46. E.g., Ἀντίοχος: ‫( אנתיכוס‬4Q169 3–4 3); Ἀντíγονος: ‫( אנטיגנוס‬ʾAbot 1:3). 47.  De Natura Animalium 12.21. For the most recent edition, see Manuala García Valdés et al, Claudius Aelianus: De Natura Animalium (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2009).

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other giants’ names argue that they are corruptions of the human form, of divine intent for humanity, and of the divine name. As part of this agenda, Gilgamos’s name is representative of forbidden Hellenistic technical wisdom (that is, magic, divination, and so on); he represents an aberrancy of divine wisdom that humans, the Jews in particular, were meant to have.

Donning the Right Garb The Egyptian Ritual of “Opening the Mouth” and the Biblical Regulations in Exodus 28–29 Nancy L. Erickson

Introduction The Egyptian ritual of “Opening the Mouth” describes the animation of statuary for use. Throughout the ceremony the priestly participants of the rite repeatedly put on and take off various garments, signaling a change in their role and status at distinct points throughout the ceremony. The switch in clothing rendered the actions that the participants took while wearing the various garments ritually effective. Special garb also has an essential role in the biblical prescriptions of priestly garments in Exodus 28–29. The elaborate preparations for donning the vestments include regulations of fabrication, consecration, and ritual cleansing. The subsequent use of the articles is essential in order to perform specific priestly responsibilities. The Egyptian rite and the biblical narrative in Exodus 28–29 are distinct texts, the former specific to a rite of animation. Both examples, however, attest specific garb necessary for ritual efficacy in a cultic setting. The detailing of the priestly garb in the Egyptian rite has not been critically addressed since the work of Otto in 1960 and it has not been considered alongside recent treatments of ancient Near Eastern dress or the biblical descriptions of priestly dress and ritual. 1 Interest in the study of dress from anthropological and sociological perspectives has concluded that clothing functions not just to protect the body but may also indicate gender and status. 2 Inquiry into dress specific to the ancient Near East has been addressed, however briefly. Scholarship has Author’s note: It is my privilege to honor Dr. Samuel Greengus with this paper and my participation as co-editor of this volume, a still, small offering for such an esteemed scholar. His careful scholarship, modeled for generations of students, has shaped and will continue to shape my own work. In pursuit of academic excellence! 1.  E. Otto, Das Ägyptische Mundöffnungsritual (2 vols.; Ägyptologische Abhandlungen 3; Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1960). 2. R. Barthes, The Language of Fashion (ed. M. Carter and A. Stafford; trans.

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proposed three categories or functions of dress attested in the extrabiblical texts and illustrations of the ancient Near East. (1) Clothing was intended to transform the wearer. This particular function has been limited to gender studies. Fox’s recent study has addressed clothing related to gender. 3 She conjectures “that the costume of the cross-dressers acts as a proxy of embodiment. The body is transformed by the clothing, cosmetics or masks, and other paraphernalia, even if the metamorphosis is only a metaphor.” 4 Another recent study by Rooke addresses priestly vestments and gender. Her inquiry focuses primarily on mikĕnĕsê-bād and concludes that the garments functioned to transform. 5 (2) Dress provided the wearer with power otherwise unavailable to the participant. In an older study, Moret has compiled several references to animal skins as clothing in various Egyptian religious contexts. He concludes that the animal skin was donned specifically for the purpose of investing the wearer with the powers of the animal. 6 (3) Further inquiry into dress in the ancient Near East has focused on statuary garb, clothing adorned the statues of deities. The rituals are attested in both Egyptian and Mesopotamian texts, whether for the purpose of tending the deity or as a component to animation. The garb seems to have functioned solely as a means of caring for the deity. 7 A. Stafford; London: Berg, 2006); A. de la Haye and E. Wilson, Defining Dress: Dress as Object, Meaning and Identity (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2000). 3.  Fox considers the Mesopotamian goddess Inanna-Ishtar, Levantine and Egyptian iconography, and the biblical prohibition in Deut 22:5. N. Fox, “Gender Transformation and Transgression: Contextualizing the Prohibition of Cross-Dressing in Deuteronomy 22:5,” in Studies in Deuteronomy and Its Cultural Environment in Honor of Jeffrey H. Tigay (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2009) 49–71. See also H. Hoffner, “Symbols for Masculinity and Femininity: Their Use in Ancient Near Eastern Sympathetic Magic Rituals,” JBL 85 (1966) 326–34. 4.  Fox, “Gender Transformation and Transgression,” 51. 5.  Rooke concludes that the “breeches” transformed the male wearers into a “wifely submission” by hiding the phallus. D. Rooke, “Gender, Garments and the Priesthood,” in Embroidered Garments: Priests and Gender in Biblical Israel (ed. D. Rooke; Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2009) 19–37. 6. A. Moret, Le rituel du culte divin journalier en Égypte (Paris: Leroux, 1902) 43–47, 74–76, 222–25. 7.  Scholarly inquiry into the statuary rituals have focused on the rites themselves and have not addressed a specific function of the adorned garb other than its role in tending the deity. While there need not be an alternate function to the clothing, perhaps further study may reveal continued insight into the perception of ancient dress specific to the rite. Matsushima does consider two clothing pieces specific to Uruk, the lubuštu-clothing and the kusītu-garment: E. Matsushima, “Divine Statues in Ancient Mesopotamia: Their Fashioning and Clothing and Their Interaction with the Society,” in Official Cult and Popular Religion in the Ancient Near East (ed. E. Matsushima; Hei-

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The intent of this essay is to contribute to a young and growing conversation regarding ancient dress by first addressing the Egyptian rite noted here, paying special attention to the descriptions of priestly dress within the rite and its apparent function. Consideration will be made concerning the ancient perception of dress specific to the ritual and how/if it may relate to the previous studies addressed above. Inquiry then will be made into the biblical prescriptions of priestly clothing in Exodus 28–29 and will consider if the biblical perception of ancient dress shares some or any of the aspects noted in the Egyptian ritual and how/if it may also relate to the above categories. I propose here that, like the specialized garb attested in the Egyptian rite and elsewhere, the consecrated dress described in the biblical texts also functions to transform.

Egyptian Ritual of “Opening the Mouth” The Egyptian ritual is known variously as wpt r, “The Opening of the Mouth,” wpt r ỉrt, “The Opening of the Mouth and the Eyes,” and ỉrt wpt r n twt n PN “Performing the Opening of the Mouth in the workshop for the statue of PN.” 8 Though attestations of the rite are almost exclusively from funerary contexts, Lorton has convincingly proposed the ritual was also performed on cult statues. 9 He confirms, the “Opening of the Mouth” ritual delberg: Carl Winter, 1993) 209–19. Also of note is a recent study on cult images in Hittite Anatolia and B. J. Collins, “A Statue for the Deity: Cult Images in Hittite Anatolia” in Cult Image and Divine Representation in the Ancient Near East (ed. N. H. Walls; Boston: ASOR, 2005). Collins describes the statuary garb as “the new deity’s trousseau (composed of garments for both sexes)” (7). Her paper does not address the clothing in further detail, but the brief comment as it relates to gender yields reason for further inquiry. 8.  The varied titles are based on the first line of the extant rituals where PN stands for the “name” of the individual for whose statue the ritual is performed. In the Old Kingdom, the focus of the ritual was on the mouth, as shown by its title in that period. In New Kingdom Egypt, the concept of opening the eye was added and was connected with the image of awakening, an element apparent in the daily cult ritual. The texts of the ritual have been published and studied by Otto, Das Ägyptische Mundöffnungsritual; E. A. W. Budge, The Book of Opening the Mouth: The Egyptian Texts with English Translations (Books on Egypt and Chaldaea 26–27; London: Keagan Paul, 1909); J.-C. Goyon, Rituels funéraires de l’ancienne Égypte: Le Rituel de l’ouverture de la bouche, les Livres des respirations (Paris: du Cerf, 1972); D. Lorton, “The Theology of Cult Statues in Ancient Egypt,” in Born in Heaven Made on Earth: The Making of the Cult Image in the Ancient Near East (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1999) 123–210; M. Smith, The Liturgy of Opening the Mouth for Breathing (Oxford: Griffith Institute, 1993). Smith addresses the liturgies associated with the “Opening of the Mouth” ritual. His work includes plates, transliterations, translations, and commentary. 9.  Lorton highlights the temple fragment of Nyuserre as well as extant New Kingdom examples as evidence for the employment of the ceremony on statues within the

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“was performed on temple statues just as it was on statues intended for the funerary realm.” 10 The earliest textual reference to the Egyptian rite occurs in the tomb of Metjen, an important official during the 4th dynasty (approximately 2600 b.c.e.). 11 In the 5th dynasty (approximately 2400 b.c.e.) the words “fashioning and opening of the mouth in the workshop” are attested on a fragment in the temple of Nyuserre. 12 Evidence of the rite from the Middle Kingdom is almost entirely absent with only brief references to the ritual, indicating that it had not dropped out of use. 13 In New Kingdom Egypt and later, the ceremony is ubiquitous in its attestations: on royal and private tomb walls, temple walls, in papyri, on coffins, ostraca, and on stelae. Of particular importance is the inscription found on the tomb of Rekhmire (18th dynasty) attesting the full ritual including 75 episodes of lustrations, censings, libations, and other magico-religious acts. 14 Later attestations of the rite include inscriptions from the tomb of Seti I (19th dynasty) the anthropoid coffin lids of Butehai-Amen (21st dynasty) and a tomb-chapel of Imeniritis (25th-26th dynasties). 15 temple context. He also develops the strong relationship and overlap of the “Opening of the Mouth” ritual to the “Daily Cult” ritual employed in the temple. The rites share in common certain elements including ceremonies involving the tending (i.e., awakening, washing, feeding, dressing, and anointing) of the god in the form of a statue. Incidentally, some repetition of the “Opening of the Mouth” ritual may also be found in the Pyramid Texts. Such replication occurs only in portions of the purifications and adornments of the statue and the various implements employed to open the statue’s faculties. Lorton, “The Theology of Cult Statues in Ancient Egypt,” 131, 149–52, 168; T. J. C. Baly, “Notes on the Ritual of Opening the Mouth,” JEA 16 (1930) 173–86. 10.  Lorton, “The Theology of Cult Statues in Ancient Egypt,” 150. 11.  The origins of the Egyptian “Opening of the Mouth” ritual have been examined most recently by A. M. Roth, “The PSŠ-KF and the ‘Opening of the Mouth’ Ceremony: A Ritual of Birth and Rebirth,” JEA 78 (1992) 113–47. Roth contends that the ceremony was derived from a ritual sequence of actions and spells ensuring the ability of a newborn and/or developing child to partake of nourishment. J.-C. Goyon, Rituels funéraires de l’ancienne Égypte, 6; Lepsius, Denkmäler 2, PL. 4, 5. 12. W. Helck, “Die ‘Weihinschriften’ aus dem Taltempel des Sonnenheiligtums des Königs Neuserre bei Abu Gurob,” Studien zur altägyptischen Kultur 5 (1977) 47–77, pl. III line 5; Lorton, “The Theology of Cult Statues,” 148. 13.  Several meager allusions to the “Opening of the Mouth” occur in the Coffin Texts from the Middle Kingdom. S. Bjerke, “Remarks on the Egyptian Ritual of ‘Opening the Mouth’ and Its Interpretation,” Numen, (1965) 201–16; A. de Buck, The Egyptian Coffin Texts (8 vols.; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1935–2006). 14.  The Theban Tombs Series (ed. N. de Garis Davies and A. Gardiner; 5 vols.; London: Egypt Exploration Fund, 1915–33). 15.  Otto has compiled a list including more than 80 tombs, the majority situated at Thebes, where the ritual is represented. Only a few of these examples however pro-

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The ceremony is confined to the workshop until the very end when the statue is relocated to its shrine. The entire ritual stated in brief is as follows. After purifications of the statue and the awakening of the sm-priest, the artisans are brought before the statue. The sm-priest presents the foreleg and heart of a slaughtered bull to the statue. The sm-priest then touches the statue’s mouth with various implements. During these scenes the “loving son” appears and then leaves. The statue is then clothed with various garments, anointed, given scepters, fumigations, and presented with an elaborate offering. 16 Following the ritual removal of footprints, the statue is removed from the workshop and installed in its shrine. 17 The intended result of the elaborate ritual was to quicken the statue for use. It was a rite of animation. The ritual was performed by a distinctive group of officiants. The primary participant in the Egyptian ritual was held foremost by the sm-priest under the direction of the ẖry-ḥbt, or “ritualist.” 18 Throughout the cere­ mony, the sm-priest repeatedly puts on and takes off the qnỉ garment and in vide full representations of the rite. These texts, noted above, have been examined and consulted here. Otto, Das Ägyptische Mundöffnungsritual, 2:173–83. Other references to the ritual that are not considered here occur as late as the Saitic period (the tomb of Petamonope), the Late Ptolemaic-Early Roman period (Papyrus Cairo 36803,) and the Roman period (Papyrus of the “Hathor” Sais). For bibliography of these later texts, see Bjerke, “Remarks on the Egyptian Ritual”; Lorton, “The Theology of Cult Statues in Ancient Egypt”; A. R. Schulman, “The Iconographic Theme: ‘Opening of the Mouth’ on Stelae,” JARCE 21 (1984) 169–196. 16.  The final clothing of the statue is described in Scenes 50–52 until which the statue has remained unclothed, intimated in the very first Scene. 17.  In the scene the priest is depicted leaving the workshop walking backward and sweeping away the traces of his footprints as he went with the hdn-plant. The meaning of the scene is not agreed upon. In light of the Mesopotamian mīs pî ritual texts, the action may have been intended to symbolically disassociate the fashioner, in this case the sm-priest, from the finished project. While the Egyptian “Opening of the Mouth” ceremony attests features also apparent in the Mesopotamian mīs pî ritual, or “Opening of the Mouth,” Lorton rejects any possibility that there is a relationship between the Mesopotamian and Egyptian rites stating that the two rites are merely “coincidental.” Lorton, “The Theology of Cult Statues in Ancient Egypt,” 147 n. 37. Baly and Blackman have briefly addressed the relationship between the Mesopotamian and Egyptian rituals. Both conclude that the Mesopotamians borrowed the ritual from Egypt. See Baly, “Notes on the Ritual of the Opening the Mouth”; A. M. Blackman, “The Rite of Opening the Mouth in Ancient Egypt and Babylonia,” JEA 10 (1924) 47–59. 18. “ẖry-ʿ,” ÄW 2:1997; “ẖry-ḥbt,” CDME 204. The title sm-priest is best left untranslated because it is unknown precisely what the appellate indicates. Hannig does not translate śm. “sm,” ÄW 2:2195–196. Erman and Grapow translate śm, “Priestertitel.” “sm,” WÄS 4:119. Faulkner translates, “a priest.” “sm,” CDME 225. Also see A. Gardiner, Ancient Egyptian Onomastica (London: Oxford University Press, 1947) 39.

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its stead dons the skin of a panther, ba. 19 At no point throughout the ceremony is he not wearing one of the special articles of clothing. The clothing change is described in scenes (a) 11, (b) 19–21, and (c) 40. 20 (a) The earliest mention of the qnỉ garment occurs at the onset of the ritual in scene 11. Here, the sm-priest plays the role of a “sleeping” individual, the “sleeping-sm,” where, upon his “awakening,” he is depicted as donning the qnỉ bib. 21 The garb in Egyptian, qnỉ, is left untranslated though Erman and Grapow render “Brustlatz,” qualifying its usage as an item adorned both by the sm-priest and kings attested in the Pyramid Texts. 22 Faulkner translates qnỉ as “ceremonial garment.” 23 Hannig translates “Schaulterumhang, Latz.” 24 Likewise, Otto refers to the item as “ḳnj-Latz.” The material of the garment is not explicit and the term is limited in its attestations, so here, qnỉ. The adornment of the clothing in the scene of the “sleeping/awakening-sm” is associated with the participant’s new role. As the priest rises he puts on the appropriate and necessary clothing for his participation in the rite. (b) In scenes 19–21, the sm-priest lays aside his exiting clothes, the qnỉ garment, and adorns the skin of a panther, written ba. 25 A pun on the Egyptian term ba is apparent. While the noun refers to a “panther, skin of a panther,” the term is more frequently employed to signify the “soul” or “power.” The literary device of punning confirms a correlation between the “panther skin,” ba, and the subsequent actions of “power,” slaughtering a 19. “qnj,” ÄW 2:2524; “ḳnì,” WÄS 5:51. K. Sethe, Dramatische Texte zu den altägyptischen Mysterienspielen (Leipzig : Hinrichs, 1928) 211. 20.  Otto, Das Ägyptische Mundöffnungsritual, 2:60, 71–72, 100. 21.  The particular scene occurs just once in the ritual and is of special interest due to the “untiring” or “sleepless” motif apparent in Mesopotamian building accounts. Scholars have interpreted the intended meaning of the sm-priest’s symbolic actions variously. Frazer, relying primarily on mortuary texts, suggests the scene indicates a search for the deceased’s soul and its eventual return. J. G. Frazer, The Golden Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion (New York: Macmillan, 1940) 68. Moret suggests the “sleeping-sm” symbolizes resurrection and new life, though Baly rules this out—emphasizing rather a preparation of habitation for the soul, a motif prevalent in African rites regarding the return of the soul. A. Moret, Le rituel du culte divin journalier en Égypte (Paris: Le­ roux, 1902) 32–35; Baly, “Notes on the Ritual of Opening the Mouth,” 177–79, 183–84. Perhaps the awakening of the “sleeping-sm” signals that he is a new or revived being, different perhaps in some manner than he was before. 22.  Erman and Grapow do not provide references to the Pyramid Texts. “ḳnì,” WÄS 5:51. 23. “ḳnì,” CDME 279. 24. “qnj,” ÄW 2:2524. 25.  Otto cites numerous references to the panther skin worn in Egyptian contexts. Otto, Das Ägyptische Mundöffnungsritual, 2:72–73.

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bull and the presentation of its parts to the statue. Accordingly, the ritualist declares to the sm-priest that he will indeed be “manifestly powerful,” ba. The statement, through the punning meaning “that you may be a panther,” ba, implies that the priest will specifically manifest the power of the animal whose skin he is wearing. The illustrations confirm the meaning, depicting the sm donning the carcass over his shoulders in approach to the statue. It was mentioned previously that Moret also confirms the interpretation, based on a study of various Egyptian ritual texts describing the use of animal skins. 26 The effectiveness or ability to perform the ritual act then is derived from the physical power of the panther as the priest dons its skin. The literary device of punning appears throughout the ritual. 27 Perhaps a secondary pun on the term ba is also intended here. Through a metathesis of radicals, the verb ab, “to postmark, brand,” may also take the form aby “panther.” 28 During scenes 19–21, the sm-priest, donning the ba, is identified by the ẖry-ḥbt with the deity Horus. From the utterances, the eye of the sm-priest is re-identified with the “eye of Horus,” so that the priest’s eye has become Horus’s. Elsewhere throughout the ritual, the sm-priest also assumes the role of the deity Thoth. The utterances are explicit, “I am Horus,” “I am Thoth,” and are further explicated by the qualifying deity determinative preceding the priest’s title, sm. While identified as Thoth, the sm-priest proclaims, “I have provided myself with your magical powers. I know the knowledge which is in you. I have taken possession of your strength, and of your cunning in handicraft, and of the utterances of your mouth.” 29 The sm-priest assumes the role of the deity as well as the divine abilities. The role playing by the sm-priest as Horus and Thoth yields evidence for the rite’s mythologization. 30 (c) Scene 40 describes the final change of garb in the wpt r ritual and repeats the elements of the rite attested in the Scenes above, 19–21. A distinction in the scene here is the transferal of the panther skin from the 26.  Moret, Le rituel du culte divin journalier en Égypte, 43–47, 74–76, 222–25. 27.  Note especially a pun between iret, “eye” and iri, “to make, do,” also, kephesh “foreleg” and kephesh “physical strength” in the scenes addressed here. Lorton provides more examples of the literary device employed throughout the ritual. Lorton, “The Theology of Cult Statues in Ancient Egypt,” 158–59, 161, 163 n. 61, 164, 170–73. His work relies on the scholarship of Goyon and Helck. Goyon, Rituels funéraires de l’ancienne Égypte, 1972. W. Helck, “Einige Bermerkungen zum Mundöffnungsritual,” Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Abteilung Kairo 22 (1967) 27–41. 28.  Otto, Das Ägyptische Mundöffnungsritual, 2:72. “Ꜣb,” WÄS 1:6, “Ꜣby,” 1:7. 29.  Otto, Das Ägyptische Mundöffnungsritual, 2:149–50. 30.  The mythologization of the sm-priest has only affected the texts and not the pictorial representations of the ritual.

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sm-priest to the “loving son,” a participant in the rite whose function is uncertain. 31 Following Scene 40, the “loving son” leaves the workshop and the sm-priest is again depicted with the panther skin. The skin is apparently worn throughout the rest of the rite, through the dressing of the statue and final installation in its shrine. Explanations for why the sm-priest dons certain garments throughout the ritual may be inferred. The brief descriptions and depictions of the sm clothed in the ba indicated the clothing manifested power for the priest. The power is directly associated with the garment being donned. In this instance, the sm wielded the potency of the beast, ba. A second explanation may be assumed from the recitation of the text, “I am Thoth. I have prov­ided myself with your magical powers.” In these scenes, the priest assumes the role of the deity and so is transformed as such, if only as a metaphor. It was already mentioned that previous studies on ancient dress concluding the transformative aspect of clothing have been limited to gender transformation. Rather, here the sm garb along with the accompanying incantations, transformed the priest into a deity, though for just a portion of the rite. The descriptions in the Egyptian rite then broaden the current scope regarding an ancient perception of dress, that it may possibly transform gender and/ or may transform into the divine. Other explanations for why the sm puts on and takes off specific clothing are not explicit. The initial donning of the qnỉ and then the transfer of the ba from the sm to the “loving son” are not explicated. It is clear however that in these scenes the switch of garb by the sm-priest and the “loving son” signaled a change in their roles and status at distinct points throughout the ceremony. As the apparel was substituted, the position transitioned. In this manner, the Egyptian ancient dress identified the wearer. Clothing functioned; it not only indicated different roles that the sm-priest played but also empowered (ba) and transformed (into the divine) the wearer so rendering the actions that he took while wearing the various garments ritually effective.

Priestly Regulations in Exodus 28–29 The building of the tabernacle stands at the heart of the pentateuchal Priestly source. The manufacture and setting up of the tabernacle is described in detail in Exod 24:12–31:18 and 34:29–40:38, interrupted by the story of the golden calf, 32:1–34:28. A significant portion of the tabernacle 31.  Scholars have offered different interpretations of the “loving son.” Lorton proposes the roles of the sm-priest and “loving son” are blended and so imbedded in issues of historical origin of the varying texts. Lorton, “The Theology of Cult Statues in Ancient Egypt,” 154 n. 47.

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narrative is devoted to prescriptions regarding (a) the fabrication of the priestly vestments, Exod 28:1–43, and (b) the ritual consecration of both the wearers of the garb and the dress itself, Exod 29:1–36. The actual fabrication of the priestly clothing is described in Exod 39:1–39 and the execution of the rituals of consecration is described in Leviticus 8. (a) The individuals responsible for manufacturing the garb include those “wise of heart,” ḥakĕmê-lēb, whom Yhwh “filled with the spirit of wisdom,” rûaḥ ḥokĕmāh (28:3). The supremely skilled craftsmen Bezalel and Oholiab also take responsibility in the worked garments (31:10). 32 The participants expected to don the special garments include Aaron and his sons, though Aaron’s garb differs slightly from those of his sons, 28:3 and 28:40. The vestments to be manufactured by the skilled artisans include the ḥōšen, “breastpiece,” ʾēpōd, “ephod,” mĕʿîl, “robe,” kĕtōnet tāšĕbēṣ, “worked tunic,” miṣĕnepet, “headdress,” and ʾabĕnēṭ, “sash.” The addition of the ṣîṣ, “rosette,” and mikĕnĕsê-bād, “undergarments,” are described in 28:36–38, 42–43. 33 Prescriptions regarding the manufacture of the “breastpiece” and “ephod” are the lengthiest of the manufactured items. The two pieces are highly specialized, linked structurally, and adorned with stones engraved for remembrance with the names of the Israelite tribes. Directions for the breastpiece introduce the enigmatic ʾûrîm and tumîm, 28:30, ritual appurtenances inserted in the breastpiece. 34 A robe is worn under the “ephod.” Its hem is decorated with multicolored tassels in the shape of pomegranates placed alternately with golden bells. Such decorations are well-known in iconographic representations of the garments of deities and rulers from northern Mesopotamia and Syria during the Iron Age. The materials prescribed for the manufacturing of the priestly garb are those also employed for the coverings of Yhwh’s dwelling, Exod 25:10–26:36, a correlation equating the priestly wearers with the divine. 35 Instructions for the priestly materials in 28:5 include zahab, “gold,” tĕkēlet, “blue,” ʾarĕgāmān, “purple,” tôlaʿat šānî, “crimson,” and šēš, “linen.” Incorporation of “gold” 32.  The exceptional abilities of the tabernacle craftsmen are highlighted by the compilation of skills with which they are endowed, especially ḥokĕmāh, bînāh, and daʿat. 33.  Houtman has provided a thorough discussion of the terms here. C. Houtman, Exodus (trans. J. Rebel and S. Woudstra; 3 vols.; Kampen: Kok, 1993–2000). See also W. H. C. Propp, Exodus 19–40 (AB 2B; New York: Doubleday, 2006). 34.  For summary and bibliography on the terms ʾûrîm and tumîm, see B. Arnold, “Necromancy and Cleromancy in 1 and 2 Samuel,” CBQ 66 (2004) 199–213, esp. p. 209 n. 34. 35.  Propp underscores the significance of the correlation in his analysis. See especially pages 522–27 in Exodus 19–40. The relationship will be addressed further below.

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into ceremonial garb is known from Mesopotamian texts, where garments intended for the statues of deities were decorated with the fine metal. 36 The material of the dyes tĕkēlet, ʾarĕgāmān, and tôlaʿat šānî is not specified. The “linen,” šēš, may be related to Egyptian šś. 37 Explanation for why Aaron and his sons are to don the manufactured garb is indicated from the onset of the narrative, 28:3, and repeated throughout, “for being priest.” The garments functioned then as a social status, to distinguish the wearers as priests, and were essential for the role. The vestments identified the wearers. The ensuing ritual however further transformed the garb and its wearers. (b) The rituals of consecration following the manufacturing of the special garb include (1) washing of water, (2) dressing, (3) oil anointing, (4) additional consecration, (5) sacrifices and blood, and (6) the kābôd of Yhwh. (1) Prior to putting on the special vestments, the participants are to be washed, rḥṣ, with water, mym (29:4.) The expression rḥṣ + mym is formulaic describing cultic ablutions and is employed primarily by the priestly writer. 38 (2) The washing is necessary for donning the garb, 28:5–6 (Aaron) and 8–9 (Aaron’s sons). (3) Aaron is to be clothed first and then anointed, mšḥ, with oil on his head, 28:7. His sons evidently do not receive this particular head-anointing. (4) While donning the sacred garments, Aaron and his sons are to be “consecrated,” Exod 29:9, in the phrase ûmilēʾtā yad ʾahărōn wĕyad bānāyw. The literal sentence, “fill the hand of Aaron and the hand of his sons,” figuratively expresses the “consecration, ordination” of the participants of the rite. 39 The expression appears throughout the biblical narratives in reference to the consecration of priests. 40 The phrase is paralleled by Mari, mullû qātam/qatē, denoting a divine commissioning or transfer of authority from a god to a human. 41 (5) Prescriptions are given in Exod 29:10–28 for the sacrifices of a bull and two rams. Aaron and his sons are to lay their hands on the animal prior to its slaughter, 29:10, 15, and 19, so disassociating themselves from sin and impurity by transference upon the animal. 42 Following the third sacrifice, a blood ritual is prescribed. 36.  A. L. Oppenheim, “The Golden Garments of the Gods,” JNES 8 (1949) 172–93; C. Meyers, Exodus (NCBC; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005) 242. 37. “šś,” WÄS 4:539–40; Y. Muchiki, Egyptian Proper Names and Loanwords in North-West Semitic (SBLDS 173; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 1999) 257–58. 38.  Zobel, “‫רחץ‬, rāḥaṣ,” TDOT 13:459–67. 39.  Snijders and Fabry, “‫מלא‬, mālēʾ,” TDOT 8:297–308. 40.  Exod 28:41; 29:29, 33, 35; 32:29; Lev 4:5; 8:33; 16:32; 21:10; Num 3:3; Judg; 17:5, 12; 1 Kgs 13:33; 2 Chr 13:9, 29:31. Snijders and Fabry, “‫מלא‬, mālēʾ,” 301–6. 41. “malû,” CAD M/1 187. 42.  Explanations for sacrificial hand-laying vary. See J. Milgrom, Leviticus 1–16

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From the second ram, blood is to be placed on Aaron’s “earlobe,” tĕnûk ʾōzen, his sons’ “right earlobe,” their “right hand-thumb,” and their “right foot-thumb,” 29:20. 43 Both the special garments and the individuals donning them are to be consecrated via “sprinkling,” Hiphil of nzh, 29:21. The “sprinkling” is to include blood taken from the altar, min hadām ʾăšer ʿal hamizĕbēaḥ, and oil, mišemen hamišḥāh. By this ritual, both the participants and their special garb are further consecrated, from the Hebrew root qdš. Blood gestures are attested elsewhere in the Priestly material, notably Leviticus 8, detailing the daubing of blood on the horns of the altar for the purpose of “purification,” ḥṭʾ. 44 The employment of both blood and oil in Exodus 29 is unique in the biblical narratives but is attested in the ritual texts from Emar describing the zukru festival. The rite, a celebration of Dagan acknowledging the deity’s superior standing, describes the application of blood and oil on upright stones. The stones, representing collected deities, are anointed for the purpose of divine service, not unlike the function of the priesthood. 45 (6) By the deity’s glory, kābôd, Yhwh consecrates, qdš, (AB 3; New York: Doubleday, 1991); M. Zohar, “Repentence and Purification: The Significance and Semantics of ḥṭʾt in the Pentateuch,” JBL 107 (1988) 609–18. 43.  The translation “earlobe” is a guess, from tĕnûk. Both the “thumb” and “big toe” are labeled bōhen here. 44.  Propp addresses the biblical blood ritual here and explains its function in relation to ancient Near Eastern initiatory ordeals of mutilation. He concludes that the ram’s blood represented the priests own blood, symbolizing submission to the deity and so indicating that the priests themselves had become living sacrificial victims. Propp, Exodus 19–40, 528–31. Gilder has addressed blood rituals in the Hebrew Bible. His study primarily addresses descriptions in Leviticus 17. He proposes that blood in the biblical texts is employed to index relationships between the ritual participants. W. Gilder, Blood Ritual in the Hebrew Bible: Meaning and Power (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2004) 78–81, 96–104. Elsewhere in the ancient Near East, blood is attested in varying rites. In his article, “Blood in Israel and Mesopotamia,” Abusch distinguishes the blood consciousness in the Israelite cult from the Mesopotamian temple through contrasting forms of social organization. He concludes that blood rites provided a means of separateness. For the Israelite cult then, one of the purposes of blood was that of creating and maintaining bonds of kinship. T. Abusch, “Blood in Israel and Mesopotamia,” in Emmanuel: Studies in Hebrew Bible, Septuagint, and Dead Sea Scrolls in Honor of Emmauel Tov (VTSup 94; Leiden: Brill, 2003) 675–84. Feder examines blood use in Hittite ritual. His recent study focuses primarily on objects that undergo blood rites. Regarding the biblical priestly individuals described here, Feder concludes that the gesture of “sprinkling” blood most closely resembles practices in Mesopotamia and Greece which detail the therapeutic use of blood. Y. Feder, Blood Expiation in Hittite and Biblical Ritual: Origins, Context, and Meaning (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2001). 45. D. Fleming, “The Biblical Tradition of Anointing Priests,” JBL 117 (1998) 401–14.

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the donned participants of the rite, 29:43–44. Yhwh’s participation, 40:34, makes the rituals of consecration efficacious. Explanation for the ritual is apparent from the onset of the narrative, in 29:1. It is a ritual of qdš. 46 The Hebrew root qdš, copiously repeated throughout the Priestly narrative, is attested in Akkadian, Ugaritic, and West Semitic inscriptions with meanings similar to those employed in biblical Hebrew, “to be clean, holy,” “to consecrate, sanctify.” 47 The rite is prescribed for both the wearers of the garb and the clothing itself, 29:21; both undergo the ritual. It was noted that the clothing already identified the wearers as priest. Why then is the ritual of qdš necessary? What function on the dress does the unique rite serve? I propose here that the rite, characterized by the aforementioned washing, oil, clothing, and blood effectively transformed the wearers into functioning priests, specialized individuals then able and empowered to go before the deity. 48 The transformation attributed the priests qdš. Indeed the participants are labeled as such, whereupon the ṣîṣ is engraved qōdeš layhwh (28:36), and would have been perceived as such, so as to enter the qōdeš qŏdāšîm before the deity. The qdš extended to the garb. The clothing is labeled bigĕdê-qōdeš from the beginning of the prescriptions, 28:2, 4. Its sanctity is further confirmed by prescriptions to remove the dress when leaving the sacred space, Lev 6:3–4. Reason for the regulation may also be found in Ezek 42:14 and 44:19, kî qōdeš hēnnah. In its stead, other garments are donned. The putting-on and putting-off of the garb underscores the transformative function of the ancient dress. When donned, its wearers clad in the very garments of the tabernacle and ritually attributed qdš, could approach the deity. Without the garb and accompanying ritual, a meeting with the deity could not occur. The biblical perception of the priestly garb and its wearers was that the ritualized dress, when donned, necessarily both identified and transformed them. In his analysis of the priestly garb, Propp underscores the divine aspects of the dress. 49 He writes, “By clothing Aaron in the same fabric that 46. Kornfeld et al., “‫קדש‬, qdš,” TDOT 12:521–45. 47.  For example, a cultic bowl unearthed from Tel Arad attests the incised letters qdš. Y. Aharoni, “Arad: Its Inscriptions and Temples,” BA 31 (1968) 2–32; Y. Aharoni, J. Naveh, and A. F. Rainey, Arad Inscriptions (JDS; Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society), 1981. See also Y. Yadin, “Excavations at Hazor, 1957,” IEJ 8 (1958) 5. Kornfeld et al., “‫קדש‬, qdš,” TDOT 12:523–27. 48.  The transformation in my opinion goes beyond a mere initiatory ordeal. Not only is the ritual prescribed as a regular occurrence (Exod 19:30–37), but the transformed garb is repeatedly worn and removed, also noted below. Gane disagrees and so does not address the priestly vestments as they relate to transformation. R. Gane, Ritual Dynamic Structure (Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2004). 49.  Propp, Exodus 19–40, 456–74, 522–32.

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tents over the divine Presence, by dressing him in a golden Ephod with possible idolatrous overtones, the Priestly Writer created an implicit equation between priest and God.” 50 He further notes the clothing provided the priest kābôd and tipěʾeret, divine attributes received by Yhwh. Propp also highlights the sumptuous garments adorned divine images in the ancient Near East and compares the ritual dressing of statuary with the ritualized priestly garb. He then speculates that the priest, “the holiest of all humans,” may have been perceived by some as a quasi-god. 51 The mythologization of the priesthood undoubtedly culminates in the Letter to the Hebrews, which identifies Jesus as the heavenly Great Priest, one who is not just like God’s son but is the son of God. In my opinion, Propp rightly perceives in the priestly clothing and accompanying rite an element of the divine attributed to the functioning wearer. The perception of the garbed priest was that he, through ritual transformation, was as the divine, if only metaphorically. 52

Concluding Remarks Previous studies on dress in the ancient Near East have focused on its function to identify, empower, and transform gender. The Egyptian rite confirmed the perception that dress not only identifies and empowers but may transform, through ritual and incantation, its wearer into the divine. The Egyptian rite broadened previous studies of the function of ancient dress beyond gender transformation to divine transformation. The biblical descriptions likewise confirmed that ancient dress served to identify its wearers as well as transform them. The garb’s transformation, specific to the biblical Priestly material, attributed the participant qdš, enabling the wearer to go before the deity. The ancient perception of the priestly garb and its wearer further equated the participant with the deity, if only as a metaphor. While the Egyptian rite symbolically expressed a complete transformation of the priest as a deity for a portion of the rite, the attestation provides a backdrop for the biblical perception that, through ritual, garb effectively may transform its wearer as divine. 50.  Ibid., 525–26. 51.  Propp also highlights a comparison with the Akkadian term melammu, a seeming “divine aura” associated with ancient Near Eastern kings (ibid., 525). 52.  Kim labels the priestly dress as “symbolically divinized.” J. H. Kim, The Significance of Clothing Imagery in the Pauline Corpus (New York: T. & T. Clark, 2004) 24.

Mythologizing Exile Life, Law, and Justice after the Flood Angela Roskop Erisman The laws prohibiting blood consumption and instituting capital punishment for homicide in Genesis 9 are usually taken as early human developments that later become more complex and more specific to Israel. The warrant for this conclusion is the assumption that the prehistoric narrative context in which these laws appear reflects the social and historical context in which they originated. 1 But Carmichael warns that, although laws certainly “issue from real-life situations with their complex web of social, religious, political, and economic elements,” the narratives with which they are bound up do not necessarily give us that context. 2 Moreover, understanding the flood narrative as representative of a primitive stage of culture is itself problematic. Fishbane penetrates to the heart of this problem in Biblical Myth and Rabbinic Mythmaking, where he points out that biblical scholars have often brought to their exegesis a misguided understanding of myth (as a primitive intellectual form) and how it was employed by Israelite scribes (who retained vestiges of myth in order to neutralize them in favor of a higher-order mode of thought). 3 Fishbane demonstrates instead that Author’s note: It is my pleasure to offer this essay on the creative use of legal repertoire in biblical narrative in honor of my teacher and one of the foremost scholars of biblical law, Samuel Greengus. As a big-picture thinker with a penchant for theory, I am ever grateful for the way he trained me to ground my observations solidly in careful and detailed readings of text as well as for the appreciation he gave me for the skill and cleverness of ancient scribes, which he taught me never to underrate. It is my hope that this essay illustrates these values and stands as a suitable testimony to his legacy. 1.  In some cases, this is because the narrative chronology of the Torah is viewed as historical (e.g., Z. Falk, Hebrew Law in Biblical Times [Provo: Brigham Young University Press, 2001] 180), while in others it is due to a reconstructed history of sacrifice that views Genesis 9 as a primitive stage of development (e.g., H. C. Brichto, “On Slaughter and Sacrifice, Blood and Atonement,” HUCA 47 [1976] 42–44). 2.  C. M. Carmichael, Law and Narrative in the Bible: The Evidence of the Deuteronomic Laws and the Decalogue (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1985) 18–21. 3. M. Fishbane, Biblical Myth and Rabbinic Mythmaking (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003) 1–92. A representative example of the approach Fishbane criticizes is B. S. Childs, Myth and Reality in the Old Testament (SBT 27; Naperville: Allenson, 1960).

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scribes found something evocative about myths that made them extremely useful in the effort to make meaning of situations that are as timeless as they are immediate. Israelite scribes did not merely tolerate myths; they actively made them, and Fishbane notes that “[m]ythmaking is also a learned and literary act that, far from being a feature of degeneration or decreased spontaneity, is often a key factor in the revitalization of earlier sources and is a sign of ongoing cultural creativity.” 4 This essay will explore what is learned and literary about the flood narrative, especially about its use of law. The flood narrative is learned in that scribes drew not only on a myth that was well-known throughout the ancient world, but also on a specifically Israelite cultural repertoire. 5 It is literary in that scribes made profoundly creative use of these sources to shape a text that would give compelling voice to ideas they deemed foundational for the future of Israelite culture. Fishbane limits his discussion of biblical myth to “highly condensed epitomes or evocations” of mythic events “set within another (non-mythic) literary context or genre,” focusing on uses of the combat myth throughout the Tanakh. 6 The flood narrative, on the other hand, involves highly condensed evocations of various elements of Israelite legal and prophetic repertoire set within the context of a fully-dramatized myth. What I offer here will add to Fishbane’s catalog of examples of biblical mythmaking as well as broaden our understanding of the range of situations in which Israelite scribes made myth and the techniques they used to do so.

The Flood Narrative and Divine Justice The non-Priestly version of the flood narrative is a story about human nature. The flood is viewed as God’s response to human wickedness (‫רעת‬ ‫ ;האדם‬Gen 6:5); ‫ רעה‬is a stative noun, and humans are said to be in this state “all the time.” 7 The problem that warrants destruction in the Priestly version, however, is much more specific. Typically translated “violence,” “wrong,” or “lawlessness,” ‫( חמס‬Gen 6:11–13) is not a state of being but a category of actions that constitute a “violation of the social-moral order.” 8 4.  Fishbane, Biblical Myth and Rabbinic Mythmaking, 20. 5.  On cultural repertoire, see D. H. Aaron, Etched in Stone: The Emergence of the Decalogue (New York: T. & T. Clark, 2006) 48–52. 6.  Fishbane, Biblical Myth and Rabbinic Mythmaking, 64. 7. C. Westermann, Genesis 1–11: A Commentary (trans. J. J. Scullion; Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1984) 410; P. J. Harland, The Value of Human Life: A Study of the Story of the Flood (Genesis 6–9) (VTSup 64; Leiden: Brill, 1996) 26. 8. I. Knohl, The Sanctuary of Silence: The Priestly Torah and the Holiness School (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995) 137 n. 51; see also N. Lohfink, “The Priestly Narrative and History,” in Theology of the Pentateuch: Themes of the Priestly Narrative and Deu-

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Lawlessness involves deliberately offering fraudulent testimony in court, using false weights and measures, and theft, especially when these acts are committed against the disadvantaged (Exod 23:1; Deut 9:16; Mic 6:9–12; Isa 59:2–8; Pss 27:12; 35:11). Although accusations of lawlessness are leveled at Israel generally, they frequently focus on those in power, who either misuse their power by failing to carry out their duties properly (Ezek 22:23–29; 45:9–12; Zeph 1:4–9; 3:3–5) or luxuriate in their wealth and security while the rest of society suffers (Amos 6:3–7; Ps 73:6–12). Offenses of this sort warrant divine punishment, whether they are perpetrated by Israel (Jer 6:7; Amos 3:10; Mic 6:12; Zeph 1:9) or other nations (Jer 51:35, 46; Joel 4:19; Obad 10), and Ezek 7:23–27 spells out in horrific terms the punishment that is about to befall Jerusalem due to her lawlessness. Fishbane discusses a number of examples that illustrate a “complex fusion” of timeless mythic events with specific personal or communal circumstances. 9 Here in the Priestly flood narrative, we see just such a fusion of myth with a recurrent type of communal crisis, if not a specific and particularly catastrophic instance of it: the destruction of the temple and exile. 10 Through this fusion, what was a story about human nature became a story about ethics. ‫ רעת האדם‬applies to everyone. Use of the word ‫ חמס‬to characterize humans, on the other hand, prompts an audience familiar with prophetic oracles of judgment such as Ezekiel 7 to see themselves in the antiheroes of the flood, especially the leaders among them whose abuse of power and position was understood to have violent consequences for everyone. The flood narrative is also a story about justice, although this theme is not new to the Priestly version; the justice of Enlil’s decision to deal with the problem of overpopulation in Atraḫasis by wiping humans out in a flood teronomy (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1994) 106; J. Klein, “A New Look at the Theological Background of the Mesopotamian and Biblical Flood Stories,” in A Common Cultural Heritage: Studies on Mesopotamia and the Biblical World in Honor of Barry L. Eichler (ed. G. Frame et al.; Bethesda: CDL, 2011) 154. 9.  Fishbane, Biblical Myth and Rabbinic Mythmaking, 51–52. 10. J. Blenkinsopp (The Pentateuch: An Introduction to the First Five Books of the Bible [ABRL; New York: Doubleday, 1992] 97 n. 22) has suggested that the Priestly version of the flood narrative has a prophetic subtext, and parallels between the flood story and Ezekiel have sometimes been noted but never thoroughly explored; cf. L. van den Wijngaert, “Die Sünde in der priesterschriftlichen Urgeschichte,” TP 43 (1968) 35–50; E. Zenger, Gottes Bogen in den Wolken: Untersuchungen zu Komposition und Theologie der priesterschriftlichen Urgeschichte (SBS 112; Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1983) 108–10; Westermann, Genesis 1–11, 417–18; T. Frymer-Kensky, “Pollution, Purification, and Purgation in Biblical Israel,” in The Word of the Lord Shall Go Forth: Essays in Honor of David Noel Freedman in Celebration of His Sixtieth Birthday (ed. C. L. Meyers and M. O’Connor; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1983) 409–11.

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is called into question by the other gods when they are faced with its undesirable effects (III.iii–v). 11 Ezekiel is concerned to establish the absolute justice of God’s punishment of both Israel and other nations and does so by making creative use of the principle of talion, framed in the legal corpora by using the same lexical item for crime and punishment: ‫נפש תחת נפש‬ (Exod 21:22–25; Lev 24:19–21; Deut 19:16–21). In Ezekiel, God meets evil deeds (‫ )הרעות‬with evil (‫ ;הרעה‬Ezek 6:9–10) and the failure of Israelites to obey his laws (‫ )ומשפטי לא עשיתם‬with judgment (‫ ;אשפט‬Ezek 11:11–12; cf. 5:7–8; 7:27). 12 He also wreaks vengeance (‫ )בנקם נקם‬on the Edomites because they acted vengefully against Judah (‫ ;ונתתי את־קמתי‬Ezek 25:12–14; see also vv. 15–17). 13 Fishbane notes that these scribes are not applying a “strict principle of legal retribution” but rather striving to “establish the nexus between sin and judgment in poetic and highly generalized ways.” 14 The scribe who wrote the Priestly version of the flood narrative used the same technique in order to impress on his audience the absolute justice of divine actions in causing the flood. ‫ שחת‬is used consistently to articulate not only God’s response to the problem (Gen 6:13, 17) and his promise never to respond this way again (Gen 9:11, 15), but also the problem itself: the polluted earth (‫ותשחת‬, ‫ ;נשחתה‬Gen 6:11–12), which God must purge, and its cause in human corruption (‫ ;השחית כל־בשר את־דרכו‬Gen 6:12). 15 Whereas Atraḫasis questions the justice of divine action, Genesis defends it in a learned and literary way through creative use of an element of Israelite legal repertoire. The resulting myth thus frames the highly abstract problem of theodicy in such a way as to give it “vivid mythic realism,” mak11.  For translation, see S. Dalley, Myths from Mesopotamia (Oxford World’s Classics; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998) 32–33. On overpopulation as a key theme in Atraḫasis, see A. Draffkorn Kilmer, “The Mesopotamian Concept of Overpopulation and Its Solution as Reflected in Mythology,” Or 41 (1972) 160–77. 12. M. Fishbane, “Sin and Judgment in the Prophecies of Ezekiel,” Int 38 (1984) 149; P. M. Joyce, “King and Messiah in Ezekiel,” in King and Messiah in Israel and the Ancient Near East: Proceedings of the Oxford Old Testament Seminar (ed. J. Day; JSOTSup 270; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998) 323–25. 13. P. R. Raabe, “Transforming the International Status Quo: Ezekiel’s Oracles against the Nations,” in Transforming Visions: Transformations of Text, Tradition, and Theology in Ezekiel (ed. W. A. Tooman and M. A. Lyons; PRTMS 120; Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2010) 199–200. 14.  Fishbane, “Sin and Judgment,” 149. The use of talion in narrative contexts is also fairly common; see B. S. Jackson, Studies in the Semiotics of Biblical Law (JSOTSup 314; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000) 290–91. 15.  B. T. Arnold (Genesis [NCBC; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009] 99) notes, “[i]n a way difficult to express in English, the use of this Hebrew verb illustrates that God’s actions are both unavoidable and just.”

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ing it compelling in its concreteness. 16 Using the flood myth as a vehicle for this reflection on theodicy also provided the scribe with a means of further exploring the complexities of that theme. The flood narrative in Genesis affirms the ideal of divine justice even as it explores the limits of idealism. Absolute justice is a problematic ideal because its consequences are as undesirable for God as they are for humans. When he smells Noah’s sacrifice in Gen 8:20–22, as the gods do in Atraḫasis III.v, God promises never again to destroy the earth so that the seasonal cycles of life might be preserved. While the flood was warranted and purged the earth of its corruption, it also nearly deprived God of his relationship with creation. Were it not for Noah, this deprivation might have been thorough. The dénouement of Atraḫasis provides a more sustainable solution to the problem of overpopulation than wiping out humanity in the form of various checks on human fertility that serve as “essential prerequisites for the continued existence” of creation (III.vi–vii). 17 This element of the myth’s plot structure, like the sacrifice offered after the vessel has come to rest and the hero has disembarked, became a vehicle for the Israelite scribe to develop an alternative way to conceptualize justice, one that establishes a foundation for a future beyond the catastrophe without abandoning the ideal of perfect justice. Ezekiel 18 shares this concern. Although old social institutions have been disrupted by exile, the legal tradition is treated as a source of future stability, a resource for reconstituting the community as much as for justifying its present circumstances. 18 Future existence depends on the Israelites renewing their dedication to law and maintaining a standard of holiness necessary to prevent the thorough demise of the community (Ezek 18:31–32). The dénouement of the Priestly flood narrative also establishes a new world order after the flood through creative use of Israelite legal tradition. As in Ezekiel 18, this new era is one in which “God and the human community are interdependent actors.” 19 Having established that the “promise and blessing to humans at creation stands” (Gen 9:1; compare Gen 1:28), God, for his part, accepts human inadequacies (Gen 9:2–3) and promises to avoid acts of total destruction in the future (Gen 9:8–17), just as he does in the non-Priestly version (Gen 8:20–22). 20 But between 16.  Fishbane, Biblical Myth and Rabbinic Mythmaking, 41. 17. T. Frymer-Kensky, “The Atraḫasis Epic and Its Significance for Our Understanding of Genesis 1–9,” BA 40 (1977) 150. 18.  G. H. Matties, Ezekiel 18 and the Rhetoric of Moral Discourse (SBLDS 126; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1990) 186–95, 211. 19.  Matties, Ezekiel 18, 214. 20. A. Phillips, Essays on Biblical Law (JSOTSup 344; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002) 136.

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the concession and the promise, he establishes laws for humans designed to “tame and control” the appetites which resulted in a corrupt earth in need of cleansing. 21 Continued existence depends not only on a blessing and God’s promise to stay his hand, but also on human management of a reasonably just world according to divine law.

The Prohibition against Blood Consumption The first law prohibits consumption of blood and is modeled directly on Israelite legal tradition, evident in the form of Gen 9:4, which imitates other instances of the blood prohibition and its motive clauses quite closely (see Lev 3:17; 7:26; 17:11, 14; Deut 12:16, 23). It is not immediately clear how this particular prohibition serves as a corrective to the lack of ethics among humans or how it would mitigate the effects of rampant corruption, although it is generally understood to be ethical in nature insofar as consuming blood is viewed as an egregious violation of life. As Milgrom puts it, “The human being must never lose sight of the fundamental tenet for a viable human society—life is inviolable and may not be treated lightly.” 22 This value is rooted not in a view about the inherent value of blood, as some have argued, but in an association between blood and life in the context of death, and this association is used in Leviticus 17 as part of an integrated rationale for the expiatory function of blood in the cult. 23 Deuteronomy 12 also prohibits consuming meat with blood still in it, but offers a different rationale for the ethical nature of the prohibition, one that forms the basis for its use in Gen 9:4. The issue with which the passage begins is craving for meat (Deut 12:20). A desire for meat is accompanied 21. F. Crüsemann, The Torah: Theology and Social History of Old Testament Law (trans. A. W. Mahnke; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1996) 292. 22. J. Milgrom, “Ethics and Ritual: The Foundations of the Biblical Dietary Laws,” in Religion and Law: Biblical-Judaic and Islamic Perspectives (ed. E. B. Firmage, B. G. Weiss, and J. W. Welch; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1990) 169. This is a point of agreement in the response offered by D. P. Wright, “Observations on the Ethical Foundations of the Dietary Laws: A Response to Jacob Milgrom,” in Religion and Law: Biblical-­Judaic and Islamic Perspectives, 196. See also Leviticus 3, where the blood (that is, the life) is allotted to Yahweh along with the fat. 23.  B. J. Schwartz, “The Prohibitions Concerning the ‘Eating’ of Blood in Leviticus 17,” in Priesthood and Cult in Ancient Israel (ed. G. A. Anderson and S. M. Olyan; JSOTSup 125; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1991) 47–49. See also L. Morris, “The Biblical Use of the Term ‘Blood,’” JTS 3 (1952): 216–20; Westermann, Genesis 1–11, 465; and especially H. Eilberg-Schwartz, The Savage in Judaism: An Anthropology of Israelite Religion and Ancient Judaism (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990) 179 on the context-specific nature of concepts about blood (menstruation, circumcision, slaughter, murder).

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by a need to kill to get it. Appetite for meat, as Plato famously discussed in Laws 782a–783a, can easily become a destructive appetite for violence if it is not constrained, and we find the same idea expressed in Deuteronomy 12. Avoiding consumption of meat with blood still in it is a reminder that blood is life and, as Milgrom puts it, “Humanity has a right to nourishment, not to life.” 24 Respecting the principle of life even as we take a life for food is considered to be a sign of ethical integrity (Deut 12:25). Appetite is also what is checked by use of the blood prohibition in Gen 9:4, but here it is appetite for injustice rather than appetite for food that is uncomfortably close to bloodlust. What enables the application of this law beyond its literal meaning in Deuteronomy 12 is a symbolic association between eating meat and injustice common in Ezekiel, where predatory wild animals are often used to signify a presence that threatens social order. 25 Ezekiel 22 in particular depicts Israel’s leaders as bloodthirsty wild animals, holding them accountable for the destruction brought on the entire community by a litany of their crimes including idolatry, incest, seizing wealth, profaning the sacred, violating the sabbath, unjust gain, false prophecy, fraud, robbery, and taking advantage of the disadvantaged. By means of their injustices, Israel’s leaders “consume life, tearing prey like a lion” (Ezek 22:25). They are not civilized human beings but animals whose unethical and unjust behavior is as threatening to Israel’s security as the lions who lurk at the edges of the wilderness. Although the litany of crimes in Ezekiel 22 involves the same range of unethical behaviors covered by the word ‫חמס‬, the humans in the flood narrative are not explicitly characterized as wild animals in Genesis 6–9 as Israel’s leaders are in Ezekiel 22. But God does alter his initial dietary instructions in Gen 1:29–30 and permits humans to eat meat as well as plants in Gen 9:2–3. This change does not point to a primitive development in human dietary habits but constitutes a very clever use of prophetic imagery: In permitting humans to “eat meat,” God acknowledges and allows for the human appetite for injustice. But he also demands that humans keep that appetite in check by obeying laws designed to institute respect for life. The prohibition on consuming blood with meat is not used in Gen 9:4 with the literal sense it has in Leviticus 17, Deuteronomy 12, and elsewhere. Rather, the association between eating meat and injustice enables use of this spe­ cific element of Israelite legal repertoire to symbolize a limit on our power 24.  Milgrom, “Ethics and Ritual,” 169. 25. J. Galambush, “God’s Land and Mine: Creation as Property in the Book of Ezekiel,” in Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World: Wrestling with a Tiered Reality (ed. S. L. Cook and C. L. Patton; SBLSymS 31; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2004) 92–93.

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to act in a variety of ways that compromise or destroy the lives of others. God recognizes that humans have a propensity for corruption but provides a legal principle to keep it from getting so out of hand that the existence of the world is at stake.

Capital Punishment The prohibition against blood consumption is the first qualification (‫ )אך‬of God’s permission to eat meat. 26 The second begins again with ‫ואך‬ and encompasses Gen 9:5–6, which deals with enforcement. What should happen when “blood is consumed,” when “murder” takes place, when life is compromised in any of the myriad ways it can be? Crüsemann suggests that this law regarding capital punishment was taken from Exod 21:12 and “here formulated for all humanity.” 27 The formulation of Gen 9:6 bears no resemblance to either Exod 21:12 or Lev 24:17, both of which use a form of ‫ נכה‬to describe the crime of homicide and ‫ מות יומת‬to articulate the punishment. In fact, there has been much form-critical debate about the rather poetic ‫שפך דם האדם באדם דמו ישפך‬, and some have suggested that it may be a proverb rather than a law. 28 There is no question that capital punishment for homicide is meant here, but the atypical terminology and form vis-à-vis the framing of this law in the legal corpora suggest an even more creative use of cultural repertoire than we saw in Gen 9:4. Although the expression ‫ שפך דם‬does not appear in the capital punishment laws, it is an element of Israelite legal repertoire, as it is used in the asylum laws to differentiate homicide from manslaughter, which is subject to asylum (Deut 19:1–13; Num 35:9–34). The issue in these passages is the idea that intentional shedding of innocent blood brings bloodguilt not only on the perpetrator but on the land itself and consequently must be dealt with immediately before it endangers the entire Israelite community (Deut 19:10, 13; Num 35:33). The concern over this issue was so profound that it extended even to the case of a corpse found lying in the open just in case that indvidual had been the victim of homicide (Deut 21:1–9). Among the many innovations in the literature of the Holiness School is the treatment of various ethical violations as violations of sancta, a “fusing of the realms of cult and morality.” 29 For example, ‫ שפך דם‬is used in Lev 17:4 to elevate sacrifice performed outside the camp to the level of homicide, and Lev 18:24–30 treats the preceding litany of sexual transgressions 26.  Milgrom, “Ethics and Ritual,” 161. 27.  Crüsemann, The Torah, 292. 28.  See review of the discussion in Westermann, Genesis 1–11, 467–68. 29.  Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 178.

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in a similar fashion. Like bloodshed, such offenses pollute the land and bring destruction not only on the offender but on the entire community. 30 A number of texts extend the meaning of ‫ שפך דם‬even further, such that it becomes a metonym for a wide range of ethical violations: adultery (Ezek 16:38; 23:45), haughtiness, lies, hatching evil plots, false witness, and inciting others to quarrel (Prov 6:16–19), falsehood, treachery, unjust lawsuits, dishonesty, and general lawlessness, or ‫( חמס‬Isa 59:7). Ezekiel 18 uses this metonym to great rhetorical effect in order to argue that the current generation (the son) cannot blame its circumstances on the sins of a previous generation (the father), because the son is a ‫שפך דם‬, “shedder of blood” (Ezek 18:10), guilty of a whole range of crimes from idolatry (ritual) to adultery (sexual) to unfair lending practices (social), a representative sample of offenses from Israelite—and particularly Priestly—legal tradition. 31 As such, he alone must be held accountable for his crimes (cf. Num 35:33). The capital punishment law in Gen 9:6 was not modeled on the legal corpora as the blood prohibition in Gen 9:4 was because ‫( מכה איש‬Exod 21:12) has none of the resonances of ‫שפך דם‬, which tie into the development of character and theme in the flood narrative. The expression ‫שפך דם‬ is effectively a synonym for one who is guilty of ‫חמס‬, as both expressions refer to the same range of ethical violations. Moreover, equating these ethical violations with homicide, unlike simply calling them ‫חמס‬, involves the idea of bloodguilt that affects not merely the perpetrator but the entire Israelite community, an idea that ties in with the emphasis earlier in the narrative on human corruption which polluted the the land and made the entire human community vulnerable to the catastrophic effects of divine purgation (Gen 6:11–12). ‫ שפך דם‬is thus a fitting way to capture the crime committed by the antiheroes of the flood. The poetic structure of ‫שפך דם האדם באדם‬ ‫ דמו ישפך‬is not proverbial but was produced by using ‫ שפך דם‬in talion-like fashion to articulate both the crime and the punishment, thus preserving the principle of justice established in a similar way earlier in the narrative, even while shifting the responsibility for actualizing it onto humans. The principle is not abandoned but, in the post-flood world, a variety of intentional offenses must be brought to justice within the human community lest injustice corrupt humanity to such an extent that there is no one left to stand in the breach (see Ezek 22:30–31) and stave off the tragic zero-sum game that will ensue if ensuring a just world is left to God, whose execution of justice is absolute. 30.  Ibid., 108, 180, 182, 185. 31.  Matties, Ezekiel 18, 160–81. For other metonymic uses of ‫שפך דם‬, see Ezek 36:18; Prov 6:16–19; 2 Kgs 24:4; Lam 4:13.

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Human responsibility for executing justice is conveyed in this law with the expression ‫באדם‬. It has sometimes been questioned whether it indicates agency, because the ‫ ב‬can mean either agency (“by man”) or price (“for man”), the latter indicating that the blood is spilled as a ransom for the initial life that was lost. 32 But the context for Gen 9:6 established in the preceding verse clearly emphasizes human agency. The expression ‫אדרש דם‬, “I will seek blood,” which appears at the beginning of Gen 9:5, means “to hold someone accountable for” the life of another which has been lost. This accountability is ultimate, as the subject is always God, whether explicitly, as in Ezek 33:6, where he holds the watchman accountable for the deaths of the Israelites if he fails to warn them that the sword is coming (see also Ps 9:13), or implicitly, as in Gen 42:22, where Reuben thinks Joseph is dead and warns his brothers that Joseph’s blood will be sought (in other words, that they will ultimately be held accountable for his murder). The second part of Gen 9:5 makes it clear that humans are the ones held responsible when other human life is compromised: ‫ומיד האדם מיד איש אחיו אדרש את־נפש‬ ‫האדם‬, “From humans—each for the other—I will seek (a reckoning for) human life.” The emphasis here on human responsibility becomes even more evident when we note that, in the legal corpora, the punishment for capital crimes is typically formulated in the passive without a subject (‫)מות יומת‬, creating ambiguity about who is responsible for carrying out this punishment. While Gen 9:6 still uses the passive, the agent is not only explicitly stated but fronted in the clause (as it is Gen 9:5): ‫שפך דם האדם באדם דמו‬ ‫ישפך‬, “Whoever sheds human blood, by a human shall his blood be shed.”

Covenant and Kingship The dénouement of the flood narrative in Gen 9:1–17 shows the same concern for sustaining creation that God shows at the end of the non-­ Priestly version, when he promises himself that he will never again bring a flood (Gen 8:21). Here in the Priestly version, however, Noah and his family—indeed, the entire human family—are involved in the plan for preservation because of a covenantal obligation to obey these laws. 33 God shows 32. E.g., Β. S. Jackson, Essays in Jewish and Comparative Legal History (SJLA 10; Leiden: Brill, 1975) 41–47. 33. The Noachide covenant is typically understood as promissory, since God makes a promise to Noah and his family, but they do not say or do anything in response (Westermann, Genesis 1–11, 470–71). Gen 9:1–17, however, clearly involves legal obligations on the part of humans, and the notion that future catastrophe can be averted if humans meet these obligations is very much in the spirit of covenant texts (e.g., Leviticus 26; Deuteronomy 27–28); as Arnold (Genesis, 101) notes, “[c]ovenant-living is

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his concern for sustaining creation through the expression ‫אדרש את־נפש‬ ‫ האדם‬in Gen 6:5, which is double-voiced because “to seek life” also means “to acknowledge, to provide refuge” (see Ps 142:5, where the parallel stichs suggest this meaning). God thus holds humans accountable for blood— both literally and as a metonym for a whole range of ethical violations that pollute the earth as blood does—not for the sake of retribution but with the overall intent of preserving life, which was nearly lost altogether. 34 Despite our appetite for injustice, Genesis 9 emphasizes that humans do have what it takes to carry out our covenantal obligations. The motive clause for the capital punishment law—‫כי בצלם אלהים עשה את־האדם‬, “for in the image of God did he make humanity” (Gen 9:6)—is typically taken to explain why the loss of human life is so valuable as to require such extreme consequences: life is sacred, and to violate it “is direct and unbridled revolt against God.” 35 As Bird has discussed, the scribe invokes Mesopotamian royal ideology in his use of the term ‫ צלם אלהים‬to depict humans not as slaves to the gods, as they are in Atraḫasis, but as representatives of God and godlike in their “ruling function and power,” an anthropo­logy also expressed in Psalm 8. 36 The expression ‫ בצלם אלהים‬is notoriously ambiguous about what godlike power differentiates us from animals and qualifies us to rule creation, but a Greek comparison suggests an otherwise overlooked exegetical possibility. The Greeks understood the faculty of justice to be a gift of the gods with which humans are uniquely endowed, an idea expressed notably by Hesiod in Works and Days: “This is the law that Cronus’ son established for human beings: that fish and beasts and winged birds eat not only the means of survival (that is, salvation) from the flood, but also the Bible’s answer to humanity’s sinful nature more generally.” Consequently, this view needs to be rethought, and the issues raised by C. Nihan, “The Priestly Covenant, Its Reinterpretations, and the Composition of ‘P’,” in The Strata of the Priestly Writings: Contemporary Debate and Future Directions (ed. S. Shectman and J. S. Baden; ATANT 95; Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 2009) 92–103 are important to consider. 34.  This intent is also expressed in the first part of the verse, ‫את־דמכם לנפשתיכם‬ ‫אדרש‬, which may be translated “I will hold you accountable for blood for the sake of your lives,” understanding the ‫ ל‬in ‫ לנפשתיכם‬to indicate purpose. This expression is frequently translated “For your own life-blood I will require a reckoning” (jpsv, nrsv), understanding the ‫ ל‬to indicate possession. Both analyses are grammatically possible, but the former better fits the concern to preserve life which is key to the dénouement of the flood narrative. 35.  Westermann, Genesis 1–11, 468; see also A. Ernst, “‘Wer Menschenblut vergießt . . .’: Zur Übersetzung von ‫ באדם‬in Gen 9,6,” ZAW 102 (1990) 252–53. 36.  P. A. Bird, “‘Male and Female He Created Them’: Gen 1:27b in the Context of the Priestly Account of Creation,” HTR 74 (1981) 143 (see full discussion on pp. 139– 44).

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one another, since Justice is not among them; but to human beings, he has given Justice, which is the best by far.” 37 In the Tanakh, justice is not a gift of the gods but a godlike trait that an ideal ruler should have (for example, 1 Kgs 3:28). Matties notes that, “at the heart of Ezekiel’s ethics is the assumption that the character of the people must correspond to the character of Yahweh.” 38 The same idea informs the Priestly creation (Gen 1:24–28) and flood narratives. The motive clause in Gen 9:6, then, does not explain why life is so valuable as typically thought, although to say that is not to dispute the fact, which is solidly established in Gen 9:4. Rather, it explains how humans are qualified to rule creation and administer a system of law. 39 We will inevitably carry out this task imperfectly, beset as we are with appetites which may lead us into violence against one another even as they nourish us. But the more godlike aspect of our nature enables us to manage this world on God’s behalf and keep it from descending into depths of corruption and pollution only God can fix. While humans, as perpetrators of ‫חמס‬, exemplify everything that is corrupt about Israelite leadership, the flood narrative gives us a model of what an Israelite leader should be in the character of Noah. The non-Priestly version emphasizes Noah’s divine favor (Gen 6:8), but the Priestly version (Gen 6:9) is specific about the traits that earn him this favor: Noah is a righteous man, as he is in the non-Priestly version (see Gen 7:1), but he is also blameless. Righteousness is a common enough trait in the Tanakh, but to call him ‫תמים‬, “blameless,” is to invoke comparison to only a few others, all idealized leaders: Abraham, from whose seed kings shall issue (Gen 17:1; see v. 6), David (2 Samuel 22; see Psalm 18), and the king of Tyre (Ezek 28:15). To be blameless is to be everything ‫ חמס‬is not. A blameless person is just, upright, speaks the truth, avoids harming innocent people, advocates for those who have been wronged, does not lend money at interest, does not 37.  Hesiod, Works and Days 276–80 (Most, LCL). It is important to be clear that I am not making an argument for literary dependence. Hesiod is widely cited in the work of other Greek writers as early as the 6th century b.c.e., and his work is sometimes dated as early as the 7th century b.c.e. (E. Cingano, “The Hesiodic Corpus,” in Brill’s Companion to Hesiod [ed. F. Montanari, A. Rengakos, and C. Tsagalis; Leiden: Brill, 2009] 98, 116–17), so he is early enough to have influenced Ezekiel and Genesis by their standard datings. But we more likely have here a shared cultural repertoire to which writers in both cultures had access; on this, see my “Deluge, War, and Dios Boulē: Making Sense of Cross-Cultural Affinities in the Biblical Flood Story,” KASKAL 7 (2010) 197–218. 38.  Matties, Ezekiel 18, 198. 39.  For the same reason, the motive clause should also not be taken to equate homicide with deicide, as it is in N. Stahl, Law and Liminality in the Bible (JSOTSup 202; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995) 44.

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accept bribes, uses honest weights and measures, and has no reason to be ashamed of his behavior (Psalm 15; see Jer 22:3; Ezek 45:9). Indeed, to be blameless is to imitate divine traits (Deut 32:4; Ps 18:31–33) and qualifies one to dwell on God’s holy mountain (Ps 15:1). The king of Tyre is the odd man out in this list because he is not an Israelite, yet his characterization in Ezekiel 28 exemplifies Israelite im­ages and ideas of leadership. 40 He wears what may be a Priestly breastplate (28:13; see Exod 28:7–20), and his downfall comes in part as a result of defiling the sanctuary (28:18), an odd concern for an Israelite prophet to have about a foreign sanctuary but a primary reason for the destruction of Jerusalem as far as Ezekiel is concerned (Ezek 7:24; 24:21; see Lev 21:12, 23). 41 He is blameless in his ways (‫תמים אתה בדרכיך‬, Ezek 28:15) which, according to Psalm 15, qualifies him to walk about (‫התהלכת‬, Ezek 28:14) with God on God’s holy mountain, until he disqualifies himself through his lawlessness (‫ )חמס‬and is cast out. The point of the judgment oracle and lament in Ezekiel 28, with its use of these Israelite images and concepts of leadership, is that Tyre is in no position to gloat over the downfall of Jerusalem (Ezek 26:2) because it suffers the same problems and will surely be subject to a similar punishment. 42 The oracle could certainly have gotten its point across to a Tyrian audience should it ever have had one, but it would have spoken quite poignantly to an Israelite audience. Like the king of Tyre before his fall, or any good Israelite leader, Noah in Gen 6:9 is blameless (‫ )תמים‬and walks with God (‫)התהלך‬, in contrast to those around him whose lawlessness (‫ )חמס‬is about to lead to catastrophe, just as it inevitably will for the king of Tyre. 43 These characteristics enable Noah to be the one person—the one person whom God could not find in Ezek 22:30–31—able to stand in the breach and constitute some hope of a future beyond the catastrophe. The Priestly flood narrative imagines a world in which we should all be kings, not for the benefits of wealth, status, and power over other creatures 40.  R. R. Wilson, “The Death of the King of Tyre: The Editorial History of Ezekiel 28,” in Love and Death in the Ancient Near East (ed. J. H. Marks and R. M. Good; Guilford, CT: Four Quarters, 1987) 211–18. 41. T. Stordalen, Echoes of Eden: Genesis 2–3 and Symbolism of the Eden Garden in Biblical Literature (CBET 25; Leuven: Peeters, 2000) 349. 42. M. Greenberg, Ezekiel 21–37 (AB 22A; New York: Doubleday, 1997) 593. 43.  The royal character of the hero has precedent in Mesopotamian literature, especially where the flood tradition and the king list tradition intersect; see discussion in J. R. Davila, “The Flood Hero as King and Priest,” JNES 54 (1995) 199–214, who concluded that there is no trace of royal status in either the non-Priestly or the Priestly versions of the flood narrative in Genesis, but in his focus on Mesopotamian comparisons appears to have missed the inner-biblical resonances discussed here.

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such a role might bring us, but out of our covenantal obligation to maintain a reasonably just order in creation and, in so doing, partner with God to preserve life. It is a story profoundly shaped by Israel’s social and historical circumstances and her effort to make meaning out of those experiences. In it we find the same insights about ethics and justice that we find elsewhere in the Tanakh, and especially in Ezekiel, which reflects quite specifically on the experience of exile. Through their fusion with myth, these insights no longer just explain very real and painful human experience; they shape a narrative world that serves as a “model of reality and theology” designed to be constitutive of Israelite culture in a future which transcends that experience. 44 The Israelite legal tradition was an important source for shaping this future. The classical approach to composition history viewed the laws in Gen 9:4–6 as an interpolation into the Priestly base narrative (PG) of Genesis 9 on the grounds that legal vocabulary is not otherwise characteristic of the style of PG and the assumption that law does not have a place in a context otherwise characterized by blessing. 45 While this classical approach determines sources on the basis of style and considers how divergent sources might have been redacted into a composite whole, I have approached the issue of composition by considering the sources of various elements of cultural repertoire and how these elements were used to develop character and theme in the narrative. We definitely see a complex fusion of repertoire— myth, law, prophetic imagery—from different background contexts. But it is all blended together, each element tightly linked to the development of the narrative. 46 Consequently, there are no grounds for viewing the laws in Gen 9:4–6 as interpolations. To do so would deprive the story of its rather profound dénouement and would constitute a failure to appreciate the skill and creativity of the scribes who wrote it. Knohl offers an extremely useful analysis of the development of Priestly literature in The Sanctuary of Silence: The Priestly Torah and the Holiness 44.  Fishbane, Biblical Myth and Rabbinic Mythmaking, 25; see also E. T. Mullen, (Ethnic Myths and Pentateuchal Foundations: A New Approach to the Formation of the Pentateuch [Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997]), who advocates such an approach to the entire Torah; and C. Nihan (From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch: A Study in the Composition of the Book of Leviticus [FAT 25; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007] 61–62, 383–94), who has recently applied it to Priestly literature in the Torah. 45.  E.g., S. E. McEvenue, The Narrative Style of the Priestly Writer (AnBib 50; Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1971) 67–71. This view has been disputed even within a classical approach to composition history; see Westermann, Genesis 1–11, 464. 46.  On blending of cultural repertoire, see A. R. Roskop Erisman, The Wilderness Itineraries: Genre, Geography, and the Growth of Torah (HACL 3; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011) 14–49.

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School. Despite his generally sensitive and multidimensional approach to sorting out compositional layers, he may have made the mistake of overreliance on style in his analysis of Genesis. He assigns Gen 9:1–7 to P because it does not exhibit what he finds to be the characteristic linguistic features of H. 47 In Knohl’s view, H did some final editorial work in Genesis, but this was limited to arranging Priestly and non-Priestly traditions and did not involve substantive rewriting because H focused mainly on laws relating to the entire congregation of Israel and had minimal interest in pre-Israelite traditions. 48 But the anthropomorphisms, direct punishment, and ethical focus Knohl attributes to P in Genesis are elsewhere key characteristics of H. Moreover, I have shown here that the Priestly flood narrative exhibits a fusion of non-Israelite traditions with laws and other elements of Israelite cultural repertoire drawn eclectically from H, D, and prophetic backgrounds, making it a composition very much in the spirit of Knohl’s Holiness School. Is this effort at mythmaking part of a Torah-wide Holiness recension? To answer this question is beyond our scope here, but it is one worth exploring. 49 Hope for the future is pinned on the ability to make this imagined post-flood world real. Fishbane discusses how mythmaking creates a space between the real (exile) and the imagined (a universal flood) that is ironic because the story is “perceived to be both true and not true at the same time.” 50 The near-annihilation of humanity in a flood is a mythic event set in valorized time, while the exile was an all-too-real historical event. 51 The truth about the exile with which the scribe responsible for the Priestly flood narrative was concerned consisted not of names and dates but of insights about the nature of humanity and of God, why life looks as it does, and especially what it ought to look like in the hope of averting future tragedy. The fiction of the flood myth enabled these insights to transcend the circumstances out of which they emerged so that they might be true not only at one specific point in historical time but at any time or at all times. What makes the flood narrative a story about all humanity is not some primitive status of either its traditions or its laws but a realization on the 47.  Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 60. 48.  Ibid., 103. 49.  For more on the Holiness School’s role in the composition and redaction of the flood narrative, see elsewhere in this volume B. T. Arnold, “The Holiness Redaction of the Flood Narrative (Genesis 6:9–9:29),” pp. 13–40 50.  Fishbane, Biblical Myth and Rabbinic Mythmaking, 58–59. 51.  On valorized time, see M. Bakhtin, “Epic and Novel: Toward a Methodology for the Study of the Novel,” in The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays (ed. M. Holquist; University of Texas Press Slavic Series 1; Austin: University of Texas Press, 1981) 13–17.

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part of Israelite scribes that the truth of their insights ran so much deeper than their own particular situation that it might take its most compelling shape in myth.

The Hebrew Syllable Definition and Practical Application Russell Fuller Modern grammarians of Biblical Hebrew differ in their understanding of the syllable. Some regard a consonant with vocal shewa as a syllable. Ross, for instance, in his elementary grammar asserts, “When a letter with shewa follows a long vowel, shewa is vocal and the letter with shewa is a new syllable.” 1 Practico and Van Pelt echo the same view, “The Vocal Shewa will always occur in an open syllable.” 2 Similarly, advanced grammars also affirm this view, as van der Merwe, Naude, and Kroeze state, “This shewa is called the audible shewa or shewa mobile. It acts as the ‘vowel’ of an open syllable. CV (Consonant/Vowel) = Xְ.” 3 Other grammarians, especially older grammarians, reject a consonant with a vocal shewa as a syllable. “The shewa,” writes Weingreen, 4 “is not a vowel. The quick vowel-like sound is like the ‘e’ in because’, and ‫ׁשמֹו‬ ְ is regarded as one syllable, ‫|מִרים‬ ְ ֹ ‫ ׁש‬as a Author’s note: I wish to thank Dr. Greengus for all his wonderful influence as a teacher and mentor. It is a delight to be a student and friend of such a scholar and gentleman. I want also to express my appreciation to Kyoungwon Choi and Richard McDonald for assisting me in this paper. 1.  A. P. Ross, Introducing Biblical Hebrew (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2002) 44 §3.2.2. 2.  G. D. Pratico and M. V. Van Pelt, Basics of Biblical Hebrew Grammar (2nd ed.; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2007) 21 §3.6. Later they declare that “The syllables ‫ ְּד‬and ‫ְס‬ (in ‫ָרים‬ ִ‫ ְּדב‬and ‫ָרים‬ ִ‫)ספ‬ ְ are propretonic syllables because they occur before the pretonic syllable” (ibid., 19 §3.4). Similarly, C. L. Seow divides syllables thus: “mĕ/lā/kîm, kĕ/rū/ bîm.” C. L. Seow, A Grammar for Biblical Hebrew (rev. ed.; Nashville: Abingdon, 1995) 14. Also, T. O. Lambdin, Introduction to Biblical Hebrew (New York: Scribners, 1971) xviii. 3.  C. H. J. van der Merwe, J. Naude, and J. Kroeze, A Biblical Hebrew Reference Grammar (Biblical Languages: Hebrew 3; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000) 36 §8.1.1. Likewise, Bauer and Leander declare, “Jede Silbe (und somit jedes Wort) fängt mit einem Konsonanten an. Keine Sible fängt also mit Vokal oder mit mehreren Konָ֫ ‫ ְּב ַחנ‬be-ḥan-tā-nū.” H. Bauer and P. Leander, Historische Grammatik der sonanten an: ‫ְּתנּו‬ Hebräischen Sprache des Alten Testamentes (Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1991) 172. 4. J. z, A Practical Grammar for Classical Hebrew (2nd ed.; Oxford: Clarendon, 1959) 9 n. b.

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two-syllabled word.” Joüon and Muraoka agree with Weingreen. 5 Clearly, grammarians disagree. 6 But so what? Is this a meaningless detail, an antiquarian pursuit in which only a Hebrew grammarian could be interested? Hardly. The syllable is essential for understanding Hebrew word formation, which in turn, is essential for teaching and learning Biblical Hebrew. Hence, the definition of a syllable—that a consonant with vocal shewa cannot constitute a syllable, but a vocal shewa attaches to the following consonant/vowel combination to form a syllable—is foundational, having practical application for teaching and learning Biblical Hebrew. 7

The Hebrew Syllable: Definition The first argument that a vocal shewa does not constitute a syllable is the rule that a short vowel in a pretonic open syllable lengthens to a long vowel. In most Qal perfect forms, the original patach under the first root letter, in a pretonic open syllable, lengthens to qameṣ, as for example, ‫ָקט֫ ְַל ִּתי‬ from an original *‫קַ ט ְַל ִּתי‬. The same pretonic qameṣ apears in the third feminine singular ‫ ָק ְֽטלָה‬and the third common plural ‫ק ְֽטלּו‬. ָ  8 The pretonic qameṣ 5.  Joüon, §27d–da. Muraoka rejects the vocal shewa as a syllable (ibid.). Similarly, Joüon in his original French edition calls the vocal shewas, “semi-vowels,” which constitute “semi-syllables.” Later, he declares ‫יֹורדֵ י‬ ְ (Ps 28:1) as “dissyllabic” (as does Muraoka) (P. Joüon, Grammaire de L’Hebreu Biblique [Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1923] 69 §27d). See now, P. S. Kelly, Biblical Hebrew: An Introductory Grammar (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1992) 19–20 §12. Garrett states, “A vocal shewa does not constitute a separate syllable” (D. A. Garrett, A Modern Grammar for Classical Hebrew [Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 2002] 17 §2F4). Gesenius and Kautzsch declare, “Such a consonant with vocal Shewa never has the value of an independent syllable, but rather attaches itself so closely to the following syllable that it forms practically one syllable with it, e.g. ‫ְל ִחי‬ leḥî; ‫ִל ְמדּו‬ ְ ‫ י‬yil/-medhû.” GKC §26m. Khan concurs, “The domain of quantity, therefore, is in fact not the physically perceptible phonetic syllable but rather a more abstract unit which may be termed the phonological syllable. The phonological syllable structure of ‫ ְּתדַ ְּברּו‬is /tdab-bru/.” G. Khan, “Vowel Length and Syllable Structure in the Tiberian Tradition of Biblical Hebrew,” JSS 32 (1987) 40. 6. J. Revell, through private communications, suggests a third option, that the vocal shewa may be viewed or analyzed either way—as a syllable or as a non-syllable, but he asserts that the Masoretes did not consider vocal shewa as a syllable. 7.  Of course, a full definition of a syllable in Hebrew requires further remarks, such as, a Hebrew syllable (almost always) begins with a consonant and may or may not end in a consonant, and so on. These remarks are virtually universally accepted. The controversy for defining a syllable is the vocal shewa; therefore, only the vocal shewa will be considered in defining a syllable. 8.  Scholars debate the development of ‫ ָק ְֽטלּו‬and ‫ק ְֽטלָה‬. ָ Blau, following Lambert’s

The Hebrew Syllable

113

under the first root letter indicates that the second root letter with its vocal shewa is nonsyllabic. If it were a syllable, the first root letter would be in the propretonic position, reducing the original patach to a shewa, as in the second-masculine and feminine-plural forms: ‫קט ְַל ֶּתם‬, ְ ‫קט ְַל ֶּתן‬. ְ Similarly, many nouns with the second masculine-singular pronominal suffix show the same pretonic lengthening: ָ‫ּד ָב ְֽרך‬.ְ The original patach under the second root letter lengthens to qameṣ in a pretonic open syllable. Again, the shewa with the third root letter cannot be a syllable. Otherwise, the original patach under the second root letter would reduce in an open propretonic syllable. This example, of course, differs slightly from the Qal perfect forms, ‫ק ְֽטלָה‬, ָ ‫ק ְֽטלּו‬. ָ The verbal forms have a vocal shewa; the noun with the second masculine-singular pronominal suffix has a medial shewa, a middle ground shewa between the vocal and silent shewa. 9 But in either case, the lengthening of short vowels in pretonic open syllables confirms that a shewa, whether vocal or medial, fails to constitute a syllable. A second argument comes from the rule that Hebrew accents only the last or next-to-last syllable in a word. Van der Merwe, Naude, and Kroeze, who accept a vocal shewa as a syllable, attest this rule: “In a word the accent usually falls on the final (ultimate) syllable. In words with the vowel ְ ‫] ֶ֫מל‬, the accent falls on the secondlast pattern [of segolate nouns, such as ‫ֶך‬ (penultimate) syllable.” 10 This rule assumes that no word with three vowels suggestion of an original penult accent, claims that pretonic lengthening preceded the vocalic reduction (based particularly on pasual forms; J. Blau, Topics in Hebrew and Semitic Linguistics [Jerusalem: Magnes, 1998] 17, 104–25, 203–8). Harris, on the other hand, believes that vocalic reduction occurred before pretonic lengthening (Z. Harris, Development of the Canaanite Dialects [New Haven: American Oriental Society, 1939] 64–65). P. Wernberg-Moller questions whether pretonic lengthening even existed in Biblical Hebrew (P. Wernberg-Moller, “Aspects of Masoretic Vocalization,” in 1972 and 1973 Proceedings of the International Organization for Masoretic Studies [ed. H. M. Orlinsky; Masoretic Studies 1; Missoula, MT: Society for Biblical Literature, 1974] 127– 28). Harris’s view seems the most tenable. Perhaps Hebrew lengthened pretonically to compensate for reducing the thematic vowel. 9.  Sometimes medial shewa stands closer to vocal shewa, as in ָ‫ ְ;ּד ָב ְֽרך‬other times, it stands closer to silent shewa as in ‫ּדב ְַרכֶם‬.ְ The absence of the dagesh lene in the kaf indicates a medial shewa. For medial shewa, see Joüon §8e; also GKC §21f; van der Merwe, Naude, and Kroeze, A Biblical Hebrew Reference Grammar, 38 §8.3. 10.  Ibid., 35 §7.2a–b. Seow also accepts this rule (A Grammar for Biblical Hebrew, 8 §5a). Ross along with Pratico and Van Pelt are noncommittal. “Stress (accent),” writes Ross, “normally falls on the last syllable of the word but may be on another syllable.” Ross, Introducing Biblical Hebrew, 49 §4.1. Likewise, Pratico and Van Pelt write, “If a Hebrew word is stressed on the last syllable, however, no accent mark is used (in our

114

Russell Fuller

(syllables) is accented on the first vowel, that is, an antepenult syllable. 11 Arabic, of course, can accent an antepenult syllable as in kátaba, but neither Hebrew nor Aramaic can. Hence, the consonant with its composite shewa ֫ ‫( ה‬Gen 18:6) cannot be a syllable. Otherwise, Hebrew in the word ‫ָא ֹהֱלָה‬ would accent an antepenult syllable—something Hebrew never does. Furthermore, nesiga, the retraction of accent to avoid consecutively accented syllables, corroborates this rule. 12 In Gen 1:5 ‫ק ָרא ָ֫ל ְילָה‬,ָ֫ for instance, the accent on the first word retracts to prevent consecutively accented syllables. In Judg 15:13 ‫אמרּו ֫לֹו‬ ְ ֹ ‫ו ַּ֫י‬, the accent retracts again. This time, however, the second root letter with its vocal shewa is nonsyllabic because Hebrew would be accenting the antepenult syllable. 13 Moreover, the nesiga of ֫ also indicates that the shewa in ‫ ְּפִרי‬is not a syllable. If it Gen 1:11, ‫ׂשה ְּפִרי‬ ֶֹ ‫ע‬, were a syllable, nesiga would be unnecessary because the accented syllables would not be consecutive. Since ‫ ְּפִרי‬is monosyllabic, the accent retracts to avoid consecutively accented syllables. The rule that only the last or nextto-last syllable may be accented—both in individual words and in nesiga— substantiates a vocal shewa as non-syllabic. A third argument is that vocal shewas correspond to anaptyctic vowels instead of “full vowels.” 14 Anaptyctic vowels and their consonants are never accented, as Isa 50:8 ‫ ַ֫נע ְַמ ָדה ָּ֫יחַד‬and Job 12:15 ‫ ְו ַ֫יה ְַפכּו ָ֫ארֶץ‬illustrate. 15 The grammar). If the stress falls to any other syllable, it is indicated with an accent mark” (Basics of Biblical Hebrew Grammar, 18 §3.3). 11.  This excludes anaptyctic vowels. See nn.15–16. 12. For Nesiga, see E. J. Revell, Nesiga in Tiberian Hebrew (Textos y Estudios 39; Madrid: Biblia Poliglota Matritense, 1987). 13.  Contrast Judg 15:13 with Gen 4:16 ‫ ַו ֵּ֫יצֵא קַ֫ יִן‬. The accent retracts one syllable in both examples, indicating that the vocal shewa is not a syllable in Judg 15:13. Examples such as Isa 50:8 ‫ ַ֫נע ְַמ ָדה ָּ֫יחַד‬and Job 12:15 ‫( ְו ַ֫יה ְַפכּו ָ֫ארֶץ‬also Exod 15:8) are not exceptions because Hebrew does not accent or form syllables with anaptyctic vowels. 14.  Anaptyctic vowels are vowels secondarily added to aid pronunciation. Grammarians sometimes describe the vowels as “full vowels” to distinguish them from shewas and anaptyctic vowels. Khan, “Vowel Length and Syllable Structure,” 41–42; Joüon §27da n. 3. 15.  Since Hebrew ignores anaptyctic vowels in forming syllables, these words are accented on penult syllable, not the antepenult syllable. Khan’s analysis is similar, calling a “syllable” with an anaptyctic vowel a “non-phonological syllable.” Khan, “Vowel Length and Syllable Structure,” 42. Similarly, Blau asserts that anaptyctic vowels are disregarded in accentuation so that segolate nouns are monosyllabic: “Yet Hebrew segolates were morphophonemically monosyllabic. This is the reason for their transcription by Origines as monosyllabic and the alternation of monosyllabic and bisyllabic forms in Jerome’s transcriptions. Therefore, as a rule, segolate nouns in Hebrew were not affected by the tendency to oxytone stress” (Blau, Topics in Hebrew and Semitic Linguis-

The Hebrew Syllable

115

same is true for vocal shewas. Anaptyctic vowels never form a syllable. Again, the same is true for vocal shewas. Anaptyctic vowels are ignored in nesiga, as again Isa 50:8 and Job 12:15 illustrate. And once more, the same is true for vocal shewas. Although all true for vocal shewas, none of these are true for full vowels. Full vowels receive accent, form syllables, and are never ignored in nesiga. These similarities and dissimilarities suggest, yet again, that a vocal shewa cannot form a syllable. A fourth argument comes from the Hebrew accents. Some accents depend on the number of syllables between words, thereby defining a syllable. The poetic accent rebia-mugrash illustrates this. A word with rebia-­ mugrash may stand before the word with silluq if silluq’s word has two or more syllables before its accented syllable. If silluq’s word does not have two syllables before its accented syllable, the rebia-mugrash transforms into a conjunctive accent. 16 In Ps 6:2, for instance, the final word with silluq ‫ְתי ְַּס ֵ ֽרנִי‬ has two vocal shewas and a short vowel before the silluq, with the preceding word ָ‫ָת ֥ך‬ ְ ‫חמ‬ ֲ ‫ ַּב‬having a conjunctive accent that indicates a transformed rebia-­mugrash. If either vocal shewa formed a syllable, the word before silluq would require rebia-mugrash. In Ps 44:3, by contrast, the final word ‫ ַו ְּֽתׁשַ ְּל ֵחֽם‬has two vowels, hence two syllables before silluq. Rebia-mugrash, therefore, precedes the word with silluq. A similar case is Ps 145:6, where the final word ‫אס ְַּפ ֶרּֽנָה‬ ֲ has two vocal shewas and a short vowel before the silluq, with the preceding word ָ‫ָת ֥ך‬ ְ ‫ּוגדּוּל‬ ְ having a conjunctive accent that represents transformed rebia-mugrash. Again, if a vocal shewa constituted a syllable, three syllables would appear before the silluq, with the preceding word taking the rebia-mugrash. Contrast Ps 145:6 with Ps 139:12 ‫חׁשֵי ָ֗כה‬ ֲ ‫ַ ּ֜כ‬ tics, 115). For the pronunciation of segolate nouns and the shewa (including the rules of the pronunciation of the shewa according to Aaron ben Asher), see M. L. Margolis, “The Pronunciation of the ‫ׁשוָא‬ ְ according to New Hexaplaric Material,” AJSL 26 (1909–10) 62–70. P. Wernberg-Moller correlates vocal shewas with anaptyctic vowels, “and the Segol in the second ‘syllable’ may originally have been intended to indicate a neutral vowel, a kind of equivalent of the shewa mobile. . . . Both in the morphophonemic and the phonetic sense the segolate remained a monosyllabic word, and that is the reason why the stress remained where it always had been, viz. on the first (and originally: only) vowel” (P. Wernberg-Moller, “Aspects of Masoretic Vocalization,” 128). See the following footnote for evidence that anaptyctic vowels cannot form syllables. 16.  Rebia-mugrash can stand on the second (Ps 1:1) or third word (Ps 10:14) before silluq. The examples given relate only to rebia-mugrash or its transformed conjunctive before silluq. Anaptyctic vowels cannot form syllables. In Ps 18:44 ‫ ֽי ַע ְַבדּֽונִי‬, 27:10 ‫ ֽי ַא ְַס ֵ ֽפנִי‬, and 72:11 ‫ ֽי ַע ְַבדּֽוהּו‬, two vowels (patachs) appear before the silluq. Rebia-mugrash is expected, not the conjunctive accent of the transformed rebia-mugrash. The anaptyctic vowel does not form a syllable. Hence, there is only one syllable before the athnach, and the rebia-mugrash transforms into a conjunctive accent.

116

Russell Fuller

‫ּכָאֹו ָר ֽה‬, which has two syllables before the silluq; therefore, rebia-mugrash occurs on the preceding word. This evidence appears conclusive. 17 But not quite. The rule of rebia-mugrash has an exception: if silluq’s word has a long vowel followed by a vocal shewa, the preceding word may have rebia-mugrash. In Ps 35:6 ‫ ְי֜הָ֗וה ר ְֹד ָפ ֽם‬, for instance, silluq’s word has a long vowel followed by a vocal shewa, with the word preceding silluq having a rebia-mugrash. Perhaps this is the evidence that vocal shewa is a syllable after all—or at least a syllable sometimes. This will not do, however, because the rule of zaqeph argues otherwise. The rule for zaqeph to appear on the second word before athnach or silluq requires that athnach’s or silluq’s word (Gen 1:15 ‫ָא֖יר עַל־ ָה ָא֑רֶץ‬ ִ ‫מיִם ְלה‬ ֔ ַ ָׁ‫) ַהּש‬ or the word preceding athnach or silluq (Lev 10:20 ‫ )מ ֹ ֶׁ֔שה ַוּיִי ַט֖ב ְּבעֵינָֽיו׃‬has two syllables before their accented syllables. 18 This rule, moreover, has the same exception as rebia-mugrash: a long vowel followed by vocal shewa also allows a zaqeph on the second word before athnach or silluq. But this time, there is another exception: a long vowel with silent shewa also allows a zaqeph on the second word before athnach or silluq (Gen 35:6–7 ‫ְּכנַ֔עַן ִה֖וא‬ ‫) ֵּבֽית־ ֵא֑ל‬. 19 That silent shewa constitutes a syllable strains all credibility. Vocal and silent shewa as syllables cannot be the reason for these exceptions, yet the vocal and silent shewa must influence the exception somehow. Happily, the metheg explains the exceptions. The metheg states Yeivin “indicates that the reading of the syllable on which it [the metheg] is marked is to be slowed down, and not slurred over. . . . ‘[It] indicates that the syllable must be lengthened a bit.’” 20 With both exceptions of the vocal and silent shewa, the metheg is required: a long vowel followed by vocal shewa, 17.  The accent dechi follows rebia-mugrash in this rule. The dechi works with athnach as the rebia-mugrash works with silluq. For more examples of rebia-mugrash / transformed rebia-mugrash, compare the word ‫ָמין‬ ִ ‫ י‬in Ps 45:5 (transformed rebia-­mugrash) with Ps 17:7, 7:1 (rebia-mugrash). Also, compare the Tetragrammaton with the pointing ‫אֲדֹנָי‬, in Ps 4:7; 9:11; 25:7 (transformed rebia-mugrash) with Ps 31:25; 40:4; 4:6; 27:14 (rebia-mugrash). For examples with dechi/transformed dechi, compare Ps 119:94, where a word has two syllables preceding the athnach, hence, dechi is required for the preceding word; with Ps 119:125, where the word has only one syllable preceding the athnach, hence, a transformed dechi is required for the preceding word. Also compare Job 28:22 (dechi) with Ps 40:11 (transformed dechi). 18.  This rule allows zaqeph to appear on the second word before the silluq or athnach, but it does not require zaqeph to occur. If zaqeph cannot occur by rule, tiphcha will appear instead (Gen 4:12b). 19. W. Wickes, A Treatise on the Accentuation of the Prose Books of the Old Testament (Oxford: Clarendon, 1887) 62 n. 4. 20. I. Yeivin, Introduction to the Tiberian Masorah (ed. and trans. E. J. Revell; Masoretic Studies 5; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1980) 242.

The Hebrew Syllable

117

usually followed by the accented syllable; and a long vowel followed by silent shewa, often implicit under the last consonant followed by maqqēp, as in Gen 35:6–7. The vocal and silent shewa ensure the metheg, and the metheg prolongs the pronunciation of the long vowel, generating enough sound quantity to allow the zaqeph on the second word before athnach or silluq. The metheg explains the role of the shewa without granting them the rights and privileges of a syllable. The rule of mehuppach with pashta also appears to indicate that the vocal shewa is a syllable, but again this is illusionary. If a vowel or vocal shewa stands between the accented syllable of pashta’s word and its preceding word has a conjunctive accent, the conjunctive accent will be a mehuppach (with vowel, Gen 1:21 ֙‫ ;עֹ֤וף ָּכנָף‬with vocal shewa, Gen 18:6  ‫ׁשלֹׁ֤ש‬ ְ ֙‫)ס ִאים‬. ְ  21 This again appears to suggest that the vocal shewa is a syllable. But for this rule even a furtive patach may intervene between the words to allow mehuppach (Gen 1:12 ֙‫) ַמזְִר֤י ַע זֶ֙רַ ע‬. As an anaptyctic vowel, the furtive patach cannot form a syllable. This betrays the vocal shewa as nonsyllabic as well. Probably, any sound—vowel, vocal shewa, or furtive patach—allowed me­ huppach with pashta, regardless of the number of syllables. Furthermore, the rule for darga and merecha with tebir affirms the same conclusion. At least a vocal shewa and one syllable must exist between the accented syllable of tebir and its conjunctive accent darga (Gen 48:22 ָ‫)נָתַ ִּ֧תֽי ְל ֛ך‬. If the vocal shewa, however, directly follows a vowel (long or short), then the conjunctive accent must be a merecha (Gen 1:28 ‫ּורבּ֛ו‬ ְ ‫)ּפרּ֥ו‬. ְ That the vocal shewa is a syllable in the first case but not the second case is unlikely. Moreover, as with mehuppach, a furtive patach may allow darga to appear before tebir (Isa 5:4 ‫֛יתי‬ ִ ‫) ַמּדּ֧ו ַע ִק ֵּו‬, again suggesting the vocal shewa as nonsyllabic. By contrast, merecha appears with the tebir when one or no syllable exists between them. In Gen 13:4 (‫ׁש֛ם‬ ָ ‫ִק ָר֥א‬ ְ ‫) ַוּי‬, nothing intervenes between the merecha and the tebir (cf. Gen 9:11; 17:5; 18:24; 19:20; 27:21, 32). In Gen 6:21 (ָ֛‫)ו ָהיָ֥ה ְלך‬, ְ a vocal shewa intervenes between the merecha and the tebir (cf. Gen 28:14; 33:8). In Gen 46:27 (‫)ּובנֵ֥י יֹו ֵס֛ף‬, ְ a vowel intervenes between the merecha and the tebir (cf. Exod 5:10; 10:22). But in Gen 34:11 (‫אמרּ֛ו‬ ְ ֹ ‫ֲׁש֥ר ּת‬ ֶ ‫) ַוא‬, a long vowel and a vocal shewa intervene between the merecha and the tebir (cf. Exod 9:15; 12:22; Num 26:64). The long vowel and the vocal shewa are not two syllables. Otherwise, darga, by rule, would appear 21.  If there is no sound—vowel, vocal shewa, or furtive patach—between the accented syllable on pashta’s word and a preceding conjunctive word, the preceding conjunctive word must have a merecha (Gen 1:2 ֙‫ְת֥ה תֹ֙הּו‬ ָ ‫) ָהי‬.

118

Russell Fuller

instead of merecha. For darga and merecha, the vocal shewa and furtive patach may influence the choice of accent, but their ability to form syllables is improbable. Although the vocal shewa could be construed as forming a syllable exceptionally, its inconsistency and scarcity as a syllable argue against this. The vocal shewa would form a syllable sometimes, but not at other times—even under similar conditions. Moreover, if the vocal shewa is a syllable sometimes, then based on the same evidence furtive patach and silent shewa are syllables sometimes as well. This is most improbable. It would be a syllable rarely—far less than one percent in the Hebrew accents. These exceptions prove the rule: a vocal shewa cannot form a syllable. Finally, the Masoretes and their contemporaries rejected the vocal shewa as a syllable. The Masoretes considered shewas as helpers to syllables, either beginning a syllable with the vocal shewa or closing a syllable with the silent shewa. “It must be noted, however,” states Yeivin, that they [shewas] are discussed here from the point of view of the masoretic treatises, which is different from that of modern grammarians, so that statements made here may conflict with those of modern grammars, which are based on historical considerations. The distinction of silent from vocal shewa was a great concern for the Masoretes for two reasons: (1) This was necessary for correct pronunciation. . . . (2) Shewa acted as a guide to the syllable structure of the word. It was not considered as forming a syllable, but as dependent on one of the “full vowels”; silent shewa on the preceding vowel, and vocal shewa on the following vowel. 22

Geoffrey Khan confirms the Masoretic viewpoint: It should be pointed out that the Masoretes and the early grammarians were conscious of the existence of the structural unit which I have termed the phonological syllable. They did not consider the mobile šewa and the ḥaṭeṗim to have the same status as the other vowels despite the fact that they were not necessarily phonetically different either in quantity or quality. Their function according to the masoretico-grammatical treatises was to bind a consonant to the following consonant in order to form a unit or syllable (maqṭaʿ). Thus the word ‫ ְּתס ְַּפרּו‬would be composed of two syllables: tis-ṗrū. This analysis by the Masoretes (for whom the Tiberian reading tradition was a living tradition) may be considered a reflection of the psychological reality of the phonological syllable. 23 22.  Ibid., 275–76. 23.  Khan, “Vowel Length and Syllable Structure,” 41–42. Khan states that the Masoretes and the early grammarians distinguished the shewa from “the seven full vowels in terminology.” Kimḥi lists 10 vowels, divided into two groups 5 long vowels called “mothers” and 5 short vowels called “daughters.” W. Chomsky, David Kimchi’s Hebrew

The Hebrew Syllable

119

The Masoretes, of course, were not alone in their opinion concerning the status of the shewa. Other medieval grammarians concurred with them, as T. Muraoka states: “To early Mediaeval Hebrew grammarians shewas as in ‫ָכים‬ ִ ‫ ְּדר‬or hatefs did not have the same syllabic status as full vowels: thus the Hebrew word mentioned was segmented into ‫ ְּד ָר‬and ‫כים‬.” ִ  24 Ultimately, the writing system of vowels and shewas of Biblical Hebrew depends on the Masoretes. The Hebrew of the Bible is, after all, Masoretic Hebrew. Consequently, their witness is essential and their verdict final: a vocal shewa cannot form a syllable.

The Hebrew Syllable: Practical Application This is not a meaningless squabble. The Masoretic definition of a syllable applies to the learning and teaching of Hebrew—almost all syllables can be reduced to five rules: 1.  In a closed accented syllable, Hebrew prefers a long vowel. 25 2.  In an open pretonic (or posttonic) syllable, Hebrew requires a long vowel. 26 3.  In a closed unaccented syllable, Hebrew requires a short vowel. 4.  In an open accented syllable, Hebrew prefers a short vowel. 27 5.  In an originally open propretonic syllable, Hebrew reduces the original short vowel to vocal shewa. This simplicity validates—one last time—the Masoretic understanding of a syllable. These five rules, combined with how short and long vowels come from Proto-Hebrew into Biblical Hebrew, greatly aid the learning of Biblical Hebrew. They reduce memorization, demystify vowel changes, and simplify Hebrew, stimulating more desire and interest. 28 In short, if grounded in proper syllable formation, students will better understand and appreciate Hebrew, the aim of every teacher of Hebrew. Grammar (Mikhlol) (Philadelphia: Dropsie College, 1933) 12. The shewa, by contrast, Kimḥi calls, “an auxiliary, not an independent vowel” (ibid., 16). 24.  Joüon §27da n. 3. 25.  Exceptions are almost entirely in the verb, for instance ‫ק ַ֫ט ְל ִּתי‬, ָ where the pausal option ‫ ָק ָט ְ֑ל ִּתי‬is preserved. 26.  Rules two and three have few exceptions. 27.  This rule has the most exceptions, especially with verbs and nouns having pronominal suffixes or feminine nouns ending in ‫ָ ה‬. This rule works for many words, espeְ ‫ ֶ֫מל‬and ‫— ַו ַּ֫יעַׂש‬and the dual. cially segolate formations—‫ֶך‬ 28.  For the application of these rules, see R. Fuller and K. Choi, Invitation to Biblical Hebrew (Grand Rapids: Kregel, 2006), especially chs. 6 and 10 through 16.

Neither Slave Nor Free Children Living on the Edge of a Social Status Kristine Henriksen Garroway While many publications obliquely refer to children in the ancient Near East, the majority of studies do not focus on them. As in modern times, children of the ANE were an integral part of the family, and many would argue that families, in turn, were the backbone of society. Thus, the way in which a family treats its children can tell us something about the way a society functions. 1 Studies that focus on children fill in a gap, not only in the family structure, but in the social structure as well. This essay offers a glimpse into the social status of children in Neo-­ Babylonia, specifically with respect to their social mobility. A child’s guardian could temporarily or permanently transfer a child out of his/ her household and into another by means of various legal institutions that were common in times of war and peace. However, in cases of extreme community-wide distress, such as war or famine, other forms of social mobility were invoked that would otherwise never be sanctioned by society. 2 Author’s note: “Hour after hour, words of Torah are loved as much by those who study them as when they first made their acquaintance with them” (b. ʿErub. 54b). So it is with Samuel Greengus, my teacher, mentor, and colleague, to whom this article is dedicated. 1.  The post-1980s theoretical wave in archaeology and anthropology confirmed, in order to know the past fully, we need to incorporate children into the study of the past (J. Baxter, The Archaeology of Childhood: Children, Gender and Material Culture [Walnut Creek: Altamira, 2005] 8–9). Discussions on the necessity of including children in an archaeological discussion can be found in Invisible People and Processes (ed. J. Moore and E. Scott; London: Leicester University Press, 1997). Within this volume, J. S. Derevenski points out the perceived difficulties in studying children (underrepresented in the archaeological record) and the various solutions to this problem (we need to identify their activities; J. S. Derevenski, “Engendering Children, Engendering Archaeology,” 193). 2.  The identification of such practices can only be undertaken when we realize that the patterns of social movement we are familiar with have been broken. The task of the archaeologist becomes imbuing meaning into the data and the (new) patterns. See A. Chamberlain, “Commentary: Missing Stages of Life: Toward the Perception of Children in Archaeology,” in Invisible People and Processes (ed. J. Moore and E. Scott; London: Leicester University Press, 1997) 248.

121

122

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These unusual and boundary-breaking institutions have received some, if not enough, attention in the literature. Therefore, in an effort to add to the overall picture of children of the ANE, this essay focuses on the status of children from Nippur in the 7th century b.c.e. and how they were moved through nonsanctioned institutions, specifically the sale of free children during times of siege.

Traditional Social Mobility of Children of the ANE An examination of slave children demonstrates that children in this social category were least apt to experience a change in social status. 3 When a master sold a slave child, it was not a sale into freedom, but a sale to another slave master, meaning the slave child’s status remained the same. The only time a slave could change his/her status was by being manumitted or purchasing his/her freedom. 4 Based on the ratio of manumission texts to slave sale texts, it appears that the sale of a slave from one owner to another was much more common than the manumission of a slave by the owner. 5 Furthermore, slave children would have little opportunity for acquiring the wealth necessary to purchase their freedom, thus, they fell victim to the more usual practice of being sold from one master to another. The commonality of slave sales is also attested by the standardization of slave sale documents. Interestingly, in Babylonia the form of a slave sale document did not vary from the form of a regular deed of sale, suggesting that Baby­ lonians thought of chattel slaves in purely economic terms and therefore 3.  H. D. Baker, “Degrees of Freedom: Slavery in Mid-First Millennium bc Babylonia,” World Archaeology 33 (2001) 18–26; G. C. Chirichigno, Debt-Slavery in Israel and the Ancient Near East (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1993); M. Dandamaev, Slavery in Babylonia: From Nabopolassar to Alexander the Great (636–331 bce) (ed. M. A. Powell and D. B. Weisberg; trans. V. A. Powell; DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 1984); R. Westbrook, “The Female Slave,” in Gender and Law in the Hebrew Bible and the Ancient Near East (ed. V. H. Matthews, B. M. Levinson, and T. Frymer-Kensky; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996) 241–38; PBS 8/2/162; Nbk 100; Nbn 693; Camb. 334. The concept of children as property is attested at Nuzi and, according to Chirichigno, “the children of such marriages [between slaves] . . . remain the property of the owner is characteristic of chattel-slavery in general” (Chirichigno, Debt-Slavery, 216). During the Middle Kingdom in Egypt, children of female slaves appear to “inherit” their mother’s slave status (A. Bakir, Slavery in Pharaonic Egypt [Cairo: Institut franHais d’archaeologie orientale, 1952] 117; Kahun, pls. 10, 11; and Cairo 20161). 4.  Note that even in cases of manumission, service to the owner may still be required (Exod 21:1–6; TAD B3.6 [= Kraeling 5]). See also the Greco-Roman system of paramonē (W. L. Westermann, The Slave Systems of Greek and Roman Antiquity [Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1955; repr., Darby, PA: Diane, 1984] 55). 5.  Dandamaev, Slavery in Babylonia.

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treated them no differently from any other type of moveable property. 6 Thus, we find that slave children were excluded from social mobility, and though their location or master might change, their status remained the same: property. Free children, on the other hand, could experience two kinds of social mobility: temporary moves and permanent moves. Parents or guardians could temporarily move a child into another’s care by means of debt-slavery or hire for labor. A debt-slave was placed in such a position by his/her father (or other male guardian) to serve as security for the father’s debt. While acting as collateral, the child worked to eradicate the father’s debt. Like slavery, debt-slavery appears to be a common phenomenon in the ANE, but unlike slavery, the child’s loss of free status was limited to the period in which the child was distrained. Once the father fulfilled his obligation, the child was released from his/her station and returned to the father’s house, regaining his/her free status. The other way a father could temporarily change the situation of his child was through hire. Free parents routinely entered their children into the workforce to help support the family. 7 Like the slave sale contracts, hiring contracts had a standardized format as, through repetitive use, they crystallized in form. The fact that the form did not change much over time suggests that the practice was not taboo. Unlike debt-slavery, a hired free child retained his/her free status throughout the employment. While free-born children could temporarily leave their families through debt-slavery and hire, the only socially accepted ways they could permanently leave the house of their parent/guardian was through adoption or, 6.  Slave sale texts from the Old and Neo-Babylonian Periods (1900–539 b.c.e.) included the following elements: (1) a statement that the owner sells the slave of his own free will, (2) information about the slave, (3) the agreed-on price, (4) a statement of guarantee, (5) witnesses, and (6) a date formula. Slave sale texts from the Neo-­ Babylonian period often include an additional element, the age of the slave in question. For examples of OB and NB texts mentioning children, see: PBS 8/2 162, Camb. 334, Nbk 100, and Nbn 693. 7.  Evidence for the practice of hiring child laborers can be found in Babylonian, Hittite, and Egyptian sources (G. G. Giorgadze, “Two Forms of Non-Slave Labour in Hittite Society,” in Labor in the Ancient Near East [ed. M. Powell; New Haven: AOS, 1987] 251–53; A. Gardiner, “Four Papyri of the 18th Dynasty from Kahun,” ZÄS 43 [1906] 27–47; R. Jasnow, “New Kingdom,” in A History of the Ancient Near East (ed. R. Westbrook; Leiden: Brill, 2003] 341; C. Eyre, “Work and Organization of Work in the Old Kingdom,” in Labor in the Ancient Near East, 5–48; idem, “Work and Organization of Work in the New Kingdom,” in Labor in the Ancient Near East, 167–222). Note, however, that the OB and NB sources give the most information about the hire of children. See PBS 8/2 111, YOS 8 51, BE 8 47, Cyr 278, VS 5 15, VS 5 17, VS 6 92, and VS 125.

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at the appropriate age, marriage. As with sale and hire documents, adoption texts spanning the Old Babylonian period through the Persian period (1900–470 b.c.e.) reached a standardized form. 8 These texts state that a child could be put up for adoption for many reasons, two being particularly common: a parent had died or the family could no longer afford to keep the child. 9 Whatever the case may be, the child remained free on transfer into another family. This would also be the case in marriage. In other words, just as slave children were almost certainly confined to their slave status, free children ultimately retained their free status (even if temporarily lost) in the face of several opportunities for familial exchange.

The Treatment of Children in Troubled Times During troubled times, children are acknowledged as an important part of the household and socioeconomic system in antiquity. 10 Viewing children, whether slave or free, as important contributors to society causes us to look at the institutions for social mobility in a new light. Sales, adoptions, debt-slavery, and hiring were not only contracts of social mobility but economic transactions as well, for the guardians benefited monetarily from the transfer of the child. Thus, the transfers described above attest to the economic contribution of a child under normal societal operation. Times of extreme economic distress, however, changed the way a society functioned. For example, the biblical text suggests that during a siege-­ induced famine, the Israelites resorted to eating young children, something that did not occur under normal circumstances. 11 While this practice may 8.  Adoption texts included: (1) the names of the parties involved, (2) the stipulations of the adoption, (3) penalties for breaking the adoption agreement, and (4) the names of witnesses. See P. Obermark, Adoption in the Old Babylonian Period (Ph.D. diss., Hebrew Union College–Jewish Institute of Religion, 1991) and Nuzi texts: HSS 5 60, HSS 5 67, HSS 19 88, JEN 432, JEN 433, and JEN 440R. 9.  Like slave sale and hiring contracts, adoption contracts also followed a standardized form. The Nippur Siege Texts discussed below do not follow that form and, in fact, are closer to a sale document. 10.  On the importance of children as contributors to a society’s economy, see M. Parker Pearson, The Archaeology of Death and Burial (Stroud: Sutton, 1999) 103; K. Kamp, “Where Have All the Children Gone? The Archaeology of Childhood,” Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory 8/1 (2001) 2. 11.  In 2 Kgs 6:24–29, we read: “Ben-Hadad, king of Aram gathered all of his army, went up, and besieged Samaria. A great famine came over the land. Pay attention! The Arameans besieged Samaria until a donkey’s head was sold for 80 pieces of silver and a quarter of a kab of dove’s dung for 5 pieces of silver. One day, as the King of Israel was walking upon the wall, a woman cried out to him: ‘Help! My Lord, O King!’ He said: ‘If the lord does not help you, what can I do to help you? Do you want me to get you

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seem sensational and unreal (and may even function as hyperbole rather than history in the biblical text), it pushes us to ask how ancient societies treated children during times of economic distress. Were children, even free children, considered a lower status and thus not “people” in the same way as adults? Did they become “extra baggage” to be unloaded by a family? Or were children precious entities to be protected at any cost? 12 Investigating the means by which children were transferred during economic hardships can tell us something about the way a society perceived the contribution of children, as well as their social status, during difficult times.

The Siege of Nippur One acute form of economic hardship occurs during times of siege when an army cuts off a city’s access to supplies from the outside in order to force the city into submission. Without access to food and/or water, the inhabitants of the city can fall into economic straits. Poorer families may run out of food quicker than richer families, who may have more stored up. This scenario appears to be the case during the siege of Nippur by the army of Aššurbanipal, about 620 b.c.e. 13 2 NT 297 states: “[In the third year] of something from the threshing floor or the winepress? What ails you?’ She answered: ‘This woman said to me: ‘Give your son up so we can eat him today, and tomorrow we will eat my son.’ So we boiled my son and ate him. I said to her on the following day: ‘Give your son up so we may eat him;’ but she has hid her son!’” According to the biblical text, the normal way to handle a famine was to leave the famine-stricken area and seek food elsewhere (patriarchs). Both archaeology and the Bible also suggest that cities prepared for possible famine by storing up excess food (Genesis 41–43; A. Mazar, Archaeology of the Land of the Bible [New York: Doubleday, 1990]). However, in a time of siege, it was not possible to leave a city, and the food supply of the inhabitants was limited to what was stored in the city. If a siege were particularly long, the food supply could run out. Thus, we find texts such as Deut 28:52–57 and Jeremiah 19, which suggest the cannibalism of children described in 2 Kgs 6:24–29 would come to fruition. 12. The incantation literature and child protecting amulets and plaques from Egypt, Mesopotamia, the Levant, and Greece all attest to the value placed on children and the horror at the thought of losing the child and/or having them taken from the family (E. A. Willett, “Infant Mortality and Women’s Religion in the Biblical Periods,” in The World of Women in the Ancient and Classical Near East (ed. B. A. Nakhai; Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars, 2008) 79–98. 13.  Siege texts attested in the biblical narratives may have been composed around the time of the Assyrian Empire and its aftermath, placing them in relative chronological accord with the Nippur texts. See Jer 1:1–3, which states that Jeremiah wrote around 627–587 b.c.e. In addition, it is likely the Deuteronomistic Historian wrote in the late 7th or early 6th century as well (K. Sparks, Ethnicity and Identity in Ancient Israel [Wi­ nona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1998] 222; M. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School [Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1992] 1).

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Sîn-šar-iškun, king of Assyria, [the town of Nippur] was under siege. Exit through the gate was [impossible/closed]. The equivalent was one sûtu of barley (unfinished sentence!) The town [was . . .], the people s[o]ld the[ir] children for [money].” 14 The text goes on to describe a situation where a woman gave her daughter to Ninurta-uballiṭ in exchange for six shekels so that the woman could buy food. Here we get our first glimpse into a unique social practice for this culture—the selling of free children for economic gain. The family archives of Ninurta-uballiṭ further describe this extraordinary means of transferring free children during the siege. 15 From the contents of the family archives, we can determine that Ninurta-uballiṭ and his family were prominent business peoples in Nippur. The archives contained eleven loans, five property sales, and nine documents describing the sale of a free child, eight of the nine recording the sale of a little girl to Ninurta-­ uballiṭ and his colleagues. The other text mentions a young boy sold (2 NT 301). The texts all date to the siege, comprising the largest collection of texts stemming from such a circumstance, and span a period of four months. Different language for the sales occurs in the texts: three texts state the girl was redeemed (2 NT 296, 298, 301), in three the girl is sold (2 NT 299, 300, 302), and in the remainder the child is taken by or given to Ninurta-­ uballiṭ and his comrades (2 NT 293, 296, 297). While the exact language of the texts will be discussed below, it is important to note that these sales do not profit the seller with significant monetary remuneration. 16 Instead, the sale benefits the child being sold, for the profit is that the child’s life is spared from starvation. 17

The Nippur Siege Texts Below we will investigate three texts identified as 2 NT 293, 295, and 296. These texts are a representative sampling of the nine Nippur sale texts. 14.  2 NT 297. The transliteration of 2 NT 297, reading “the people sold their children for money,” is as follows: [xxx] x UN.MEŠ DUMU.MEŠ-š[ú-n]u a-na [KUG. BABBAR ip-š]u-ru (translation from L. Oppenheim, “Siege Documents from Nippur,” Iraq 17 (1955) 76; transliteration on p. 87). 15.  A few other texts also mention selling children in times of siege. See CT XIII 49 and YOS VI 154:5–10: people sell their children for money; and CT XV 49 I:31 (the Atraḫasis Epic): a mother and daughter witness each other being sold. See also the Middle Assyrian text KAJ 168. 16.  See also Oppenheim, “Siege Documents from Nippur,” 80–81. 17.  The use of the term bulluṭu, “to keep a person alive by providing food (in an emergency),” in the Nippur Siege texts makes this clear. A further discussion of this term follows below.

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The texts each describe the sale of a little girl and represent a specific manner of sale. 18

Text 1: 2 NT 293 19 Nippur Sin-šar-iškun  1. mdU+GUR.ŠEŠ.PAP A mBA-šá a-na mdBAR.DIN-iṭ   2. A mdEN-ú-sat ki-a-am iq-bi um-ma   3. SAL Ṣu-li(!)-e-a-taš-me ṣa-ḫír-ta-a  4. a-bu-u[k]-ma bul-liṭ-ma lu-ú ṣa-ḫír-ta-ka  5. ši-i ù 6 GÍN i bi-in-nam-ma  6. a-na x-a lud-din lu-kul EGIR-šú  7. mdBAR.DIN-iṭ [iš-me-šu-ma] 6 GÍN KUG.BABBAR  8. i-ḫi-iṭ-ma ina i-it x-y-z id-da-áš-šú  9. pu-ut si-ḫi-i u LÚ pa-qí-ra-nu 10. šá ṣa-ḫír-ti mdU+GUR. ŠEŠ.PAP na-šú

Witnesses and Scribe Dated: EN.LÍLki ITI ŠU UD 10.KAM MU 3 mdXXX.LUGAL-iš-kun LUGAL KUR Aš-šurki

Translation: Nergal-ah-uṣur, son of Iqiša, said to Ninurta-uballiṭ, son of Bel-usat, as 18.  2 NT 301 is the only text in the corpus that mentions the sale of a little boy. He is redeemed for 12 shekels of silver. The language used in 2 NT 301 is similar to that of 2 NT 295 and 2 NT 298 in which little girls are sold. Examining other texts that mention similar circumstances to the Nippur Siege documents, we see that they too mention young girls kept alive (bulluṭu) in times of community crisis (MAL 39; CH 117; Riftin no. 24 Babyloniata VII 45 = VS XIII, 64). Notably, in one text we do find a mother giving her two young sons to the temple for she cannot provide for them (YOS VI 154). These young sons are DUMU.MEŠ ṣaḫirutu. One may well wonder if young girls were the “first to go,” as it were, when it came to parents needing to provide for the family. In light of inheritance issues, hanging on to one’s sons as long as possible makes sense. Families may also wish to keep boys during wartime as they could be potential warriors (B. Nakhai, “Female Infanticide in Iron II Israel and Judah,” in Sacred History, Sacred Literature, [ed. S. Dolansky; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2008] 258). Discussions concerning infanticide have drawn attention to the fact that female infanticide was much more common than male infanticide. The reasons have to do with economic viability (for a long bibliography on this issue, see ibid., 258). While the girls in the Siege Texts are not infants, it is possible that the reason they were given up also had to do with economic viability. 19.  All texts transliterated and translated by Oppenheim, “Siege Documents from Nippur.”

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Kristine Henriksen Garroway follows: “Take my small (female) child, Ṣullea-tašme and keep (her) alive, she shall be your small child! Give me 6 shekels (of silver) so that I may give . . . and that I may eat.” Thereupon, Ninurta-uballiṭ (accepted his offer) and weighed and gave him in one [payment?] 6 shekels of silver. Nergal-ah-uṣur guarantees against a vindicator or a contestant.” Nippur, month of Dumuzi, 10th day; 3rd year of Sin-šar-iškun, king of Assyria.

In this text, a father sells his daughter to Mr. Ninurta-uballiṭ for six shekels of silver. The text uses the term ṣaḫirtu to describe the daughter. This word most often refers to a girl between infancy and puberty; only in rare circumstances is it applied to a little boy. 20 The word ṣaḫirtu in this context does not mean “girl sold into a slave-like status” as Oppenheim translates, but rather refers to a free child. 21 The presence of this term in the text creates a categorical tension, suggesting that a father voluntarily sold his free daughter into the care of another man, which technically made her his slave, not a debt-slave. As mentioned above, parents can temporarily lend out their children as debt-slaves or hire them out as laborers, but this daughter’s permanent sale resulting in her father’s renunciation of legal protection is rather unique. In line 4, we find two other terms pointing to the uniqueness of the situation: abāku, “to lead away,” and bulluṭu, “to keep alive.” Oppenheim translates abāku as “take.” The term generally applies to taking or leading away commodities, usually animals, not people. When found with the phrase ana kaspi a., the term means literally to “take away for silver,” that is, “to buy” something. In the present context, the term is not directly connected to the phrase ana kaspi, nevertheless, a transfer of goods (here the little girl) takes place through a monetary transaction, suggesting that, on the father’s request, Ninurta-uballiṭ bought his daughter. If her father sold her, we must investigate the motivation behind such a sale. The latter term, bulluṭu, suggests that if the girl were not kept alive by Ninurta-uballiṭ, she would die of hunger in her father’s care. 22 This word 20.  Oppenheim, “Siege Documents from Nippur,” 70. See also “ṣaḫirtu,” CAD Ṣ 120ff. 21. See “ṣiḫirtu girl,” CAD Ṣ 4e, 185. While Oppenheim states from the start (“Siege Documents from Nippur,” 70 n. 5) that ṣaḫirtu refers to age (not status), in comparing other texts to the Nippur Siege documents, Oppenheim conflates what is actually said in the Nippur texts with what other texts say. For example, he relates the situation of the Nippur girls with the situation in YOS VI 154, wherein the mother dedicates her sons to the temple so they may be kept alive, bulluṭu, by becoming temple slaves. See too his discussion on p. 83. 22.  See “bulluṭu,” CAD B, 52 meaning 5, “to keep (somebody alive and in good

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appears in various texts that deal with famine, siege, and other community-­ wide crises. For example, in the document YOS 6 154:5–10, a widow says, “My husband has died, there is a famine in the land, therefore: (mārī ṣaḫirštu kakkabti ašmiṭma ana DN addin bulliṭam[a] lu LÚ širaku ša DN šunu) I have marked (my) two small sons with the star and given them to the Ladyof-Uruk; keep (pl) them alive (bul-liṭ-a-ma), let them be oblates of the Lady of Uruk!” 23 As this text and the Nippur texts demonstrate, the practice of selling one’s child appears to be sanctioned in dire circum­stances, especially when the child’s survival is at risk. 24 Returning to 2 NT 293, we see further attestation to the seriousness of the situation in line 6. Here the text switches into the precative: a-na x-a lud-din lu-kul, “so that I may give . . . and that I may eat.” The father is selling the child not only that she may live (bulluṭu) but so that he may eat (lu-kul). In this way, Ninurta-uballiṭ becomes a kind of redeemer figure. 25 In buying the little girl, he provides both father and daughter a way out of destitution and imminent death. Perhaps in this case Ninurta-uballiṭ should be understood more as a legal guardian than a slave-owner. If we view Ninurta-uballiṭ as the guardian, one may argue that this transaction is not a sale but an adoption. Reading 2 NT 293 as a record of adoption would alleviate the social tension surrounding the sale of a free child. In addition, an adoption would explain the “guarantee clause” in lines 9–10: “the father guarantees against a vindicator or a contestant.” This phrase could function as proof that the biological father relinquished his legal responsibility, handing it over to the adoptive father. However, because this text was found with eight others of a similar nature, all of which date to the siege of Nippur, it seems more logical to understand this text as a sale document. Furthermore, lines 9–10 are the only part of the text that suggests an adoption. The remainder of the document does not read as an adoption text. 26 health), and also p. 61, meaning 7, “to provide with food during famine.” See also Oppenheim, “Siege Documents from Nippur,” 75–76. 23.  YOS VI 154:5–10, as quoted in CAD Š/3, 106. 24.  In only a few other places do we find records of parents selling their children. The archives of Balmunamhe of Larsa also record the sale of free children, but this too comes as a response to an economic crisis (Riftin no. 24, Babylonica VII, 45 and V.S. XIII, 64; see also Oppenheim, “Siege Documents from Nippur,” 72). 25.  Of course, it is possible that Ninurta-uballiṭ is not doing this out of the kindness of his heart, as a mitzvah, as it were. Rather, he may be acting as a savvy businessman: When you see a chance for profit, you take it. Whatever Ninurta-uballiṭ’s motivations may have been, the outcome remains the same: a little girl’s life is spared. 26.  Adoption texts also followed a format and used specific terminology, different

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Text 2: 2 NT 295 Nippur Sin-šar-iškun 1. mdBAR.DIN-iṭ A mdEN-ú-sa-tu 2. mÌR. dGu-la u mDan-ni-dU+GUR 3. ina ŠU2 mdAG.ŠEŠ-ú-ṣur A mdPA.DAḪ 4. SAL E-ṭir-ti SAL ṣa-ḫír-ta-šú 5. a-na 1/3 2 GÍN KUG.BABBAR a-na ŠÁM ḫa-ri-iṣ 6. ip-ṭu-ru pu-ut si-ḫi-i 7. u LÚ pa-qí-ra-nu mdPA.PAP-ú-ṣur na-ši

Witnesses and Scribe Dated: EN.LÍLki ITI SIG4 UD 18.KAM MU 3.KAM mdXXX.LUGAL.GAR LUGAL KUR Aš-šurki Ninurta-uballiṭ, son of Bel-usat, Arad-Gula and Danni-Nergal “redeemed” Eṭirtu, his small (female) child, from Nabu-ah-uṣur, son of Nabu-reṣi, for 22 shekels of silver as (her) exact price. Nabu-ah-uṣur guarantees against a vindicator or a contestant. Nippur, month of Simanu, 18th day; 3rd year of Sin-šar-iškun, king of Assyria.”

In the second text, the buyer from the first text—Ninurta-uballiṭ—joins forces with two companions, Arad-Gula and Danni-Nergal, to “redeem” the girl Eṭirtu, again called a ṣaḫirtu. The use of the verb paṭāru presents some difficulties. It is commonly understood as the legal term for “to redeem (sold goods).” 27 Paṭāru is unusual in this context because the girl is not a slave or property and therefore needs no redemption. While the context is not clear, Oppenheim may be on the right track in stating that paṭaru means something else in this context. 28 If, as in the first text, the siege of Nippur has forced the father of this girl into destitution, then Ninurta-­ uballiṭ and associates may be buying the girl in order that she may live. In this way, the use of ipṭuru makes sense; the men “redeem” the girl’s life, not from another person, but from her circumstances. This reading fits with to that of sale texts (CH 185–191; PBS 8/2 107; TIM 5 4. For a comprehensive discussion of adoption, see Obermark, Adoption in the Old Babylonian Period. 27.  CAD P, 287. The common meaning is 5b “to redeem previously sold property.” Meaning 6, “to purchase” is found during the NB only in the Nippur Siege documents. In the OB, the term means “to purchase” in a single letter, MDP 18 299, wherein a father purchases (paṭaru) property for his son. 28.  Oppenheim, “Siege Documents from Nippur,” 83.

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line 7, where the girl’s father appears as the guarantor. 29 Also in this line, it is significant that the father, Nabu-ah-uṣur, is called the son of Nabu-reṣi, for only free persons were identified with the epithet PN son/daughter of PN. 30 The father’s name formula highlights the fact that Eṭirtu is the daughter of a free man. 31 Again, the text leaves us with a tension: Socially, Etiru belongs to the free class, yet legally she will be the dependent of someone other than her father.

Text 3: 2 NT 296 Nippur Sin-šar-iškun 1. [mdÉ-a-ib-n]i ina ḫu-ud 2. lìb-bi-šú SAL A-la-an-ni-šú 3. SAL ṣa-ḫír-ta-šú a-na mÌR. dGu-[la] 4. mDan-ni-e-a u mdBAR.DIN 5. [i]d-din ár-ki-i 6. mdÉ-a-ib-ni na-áš-šú

Witnesses and Scribe Dated: EN.LÍLki ITI SIG4 UD 6.KAM MU 3.KAM LUGAL KUR Aš-šurki

XXX.LUGAL.GAR-un

md

[Ea-ibn]i gave, voluntarily, his small (female) child Alannišu to Arad-Gula, Dannea and Ninurta-uballiṭ. Ea-ibni guarantees against claimants. Nippur, month of Simanu, 10th day; 3rd year of Sin-šar-iškun, king of Assyria.

Again, in this text we see a father, Ea-ibni, transferring his little girl to another’s care. He does so in a very specific way: ina ḫu-ud lìb-bi-í-šu SAL A-la-an-ni-šú . . . [i]d-din: “He gives her of his own free will.” This phrase would seem to indicate that the transaction does not involve monetary remuneration, however the language is similar to the NB slave sale documents 29.  Note that in the previous text (2 NT 293), a document that leaves no doubt that a father is selling his young daughter, lines 9–10 also state that the father acts as the guarantor for the daughter. 30.  See also 2 NT 293:1 Nergal-ah-uṣur, son of Iqiša. 31.  Dandamaev, Slavery in Babylonia, 181. If the girl were a slave born to Nabuah-uṣur by a slave woman, we would not expect to see Etiru’s name attached to that of her father. Instead we would expect a name formula without the parent’s name. In some cases, a mother was sold with her nursing child, in which case the two were sold as a unit. See: Nbk. 67, 100, 832; Camb. 334; Nbn. 693.

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in which the master sells (iddin) his slave ina ḫūd libbišu of “his own free will.” 32 This suggests that the father in this text is indeed selling his daughter, though we do not know her price. Ea-ibni sells her of his own volition, likely due to economic hardship brought on by the siege. Also, we know that Ea-ibni is a free man selling his daughter. Although the scribe does not record the name of Ea-ibni’s father as in the previous text, we still know that Ea-ibni is in fact a free man: A slave could not sell his child, for the child did not belong to him. 33

Discussion Each of these texts relates the fate of certain children during the siege of Nippur, yet they describe children in a categorically problematic way. They refer to three free children, living with their natal families, who are then sold into slavery during (and likely due to) the siege. As we have seen above, a parent could temporarily transfer a child through debt-slavery or hire, or else permanently relocate the child through adoption or marriage. Thus, the parental actions described in the Nippur texts seem at odds with societal norms, which is reflected in the verbs and prices relating to the girls’ purchase and the term used to describe the girls. The result is a new understanding of the girls’ social status following their sale.

An Abnormal Practice At first glance, the factors surrounding the decision to sell one’s children are not unlike those involved in entering children into debt-slavery or hiring them out for a time to make ends meet. A survey of ANE hiring contracts and debt-slave contracts demonstrates that parents did not take issue with transferring a free child into another person’s care; debt-slavery and temporary hire were common, thus parting with one’s children was equally common. 34 Also, parents who entered their children into debt-­slavery or 32.  In a slave-sale context, iddin more precisely denotes “sell,” not “give” as is often the English translation. CAD N/1, 42. For ana + nadānu specifically denoting “sell,” see, CAD N/1, 43. 33.  Documents do exist in which a free person is identified without his/her father’s name. In these cases, it is likely the parties involved were trying to keep the contract as simple as possible. This may also be the case in 2 NT 296, in which we see is a very concise and brief contract. 34.  For children in a debt-sale situation, see CH 117; YOS 8 51; MAL A 48 and A 39; MAL C2 and C3. For children hired out, see PBS 8/2 111; Cyr 278; VS 5 15; VS 5 17; VS 6 92; VS 5 125; BE 8 47. See also Powell, ed., Labor in the Ancient Near East; Westbrook, ed., A History of Ancient Near Eastern Law.

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the workforce seemed comfortable using the child for economic benefit, suggesting that selling one’s child might be a natural move, at least in difficult times, for a society that acknowledges the child’s monetary value. Finally, debt-slave and hiring contracts indicate that the child will lose (if only temporarily) his or her free status, which leads us to question whether or not the social tension of a free-born child being sold into slavery was really all that problematic for those mentioned in the Nippur texts. This difference, though, between the Nippur texts and these other social contracts is the permanency of the servitude. For both the hired child and the debt-slave child, service was temporary, and the only permanent transfer of a free child was through marriage or adoption. Permanently moving a human being into another household by means of a sale was reserved for slave children. 35 This regulation kept a firm grip on the legal and social status of free and slave children, which in turn kept the social classes in the desirable status quo. Free people remained free, and slave people remained slaves. Permanently selling a free child to another person violated these societal norms. Thus, the Nippur siege texts represent abnormal transactions for this society that, for the child, result in an abnormal status: free but sold (into slavery?) during a community-wide disaster. This leads us to ask how we are to understand the status of the “free-sold” child. Insights into this paradoxical position may be found by examining the means of transfer and the prices paid for these girls as well as the word used to describe them in the texts.

Internal Evidence for Purchase Within the three texts examined above, we see three different verbs used to describe the girls’ transfer: abāku, “to lead away”; paṭāru, “to redeem”; and nadanu, “to give/sell.” In the case of 2 NT 293, the odd use of abāku, normally reserved for leading away or taking animals or objects, hints at a sale. Moreover, a monetary transaction took place, suggesting that here abāku means something closer to “buy,” not simply “take.” 2 NT 295 uses the term paṭaru for the girl’s transfer. As noted, paṭaru means “to redeem (sold goods),” but since the girl was not a slave, paṭaru only makes sense here if the girl’s life was redeemed from her circumstances, which also came at a price. Finally, 2 NT 296, uses the term nadanu in a document that closely follows the format of a slave sale document, suggesting that the girl was sold even though no price is given. 35. See Dandamaev, Slavery in Babylonia.

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Not only were the contracts constructed differently, but all three contracts list different prices paid for the ṣaḫirtu. In 2 NT 293, the father receives 6 shekels for the daughter; in 2 NT 295, she is redeemed for 22 shekels; and in 2 NT 296, no money was exchanged as far as the document tells us. The prices paid for the girls were marginal and significantly below the normal purchase price for a slave or free laborer. 36 Oppenheim states that this could be interpreted in two ways. First, it could be argued that such a low price protected the parents. No one could accuse them of selling their children for profit. Although, as we have seen, this society tolerated the temporary indenturing of children, permanently selling a child was clearly a last and unpopular resort and therefore not one to be capitalized on. Second, Oppenheim states that the fees could be symbolic gestures, for it was common to include a price in a sale contract. 37 Among the Nippur Siege Documents, 2 NT 296 comes the closest to describing a sale, yet it does not include a price for the girl. This breaks with the convention established by sale contracts and perhaps implies that we cannot place a value on this child’s life. On the other hand, one could argue that the child was not worth anything, but that seems unlikely given her economic potential as a debt-slave or hired laborer. Also, a free child with many years of labor left in her must certainly be worth a great deal. Why then is no price given? While it is possible that 2 NT 296 simply omitted the price by chance or that the father was giving up his daughter in order to repay a previous loan, I suggest a third option based on the social discomfort surrounding the selling of a free child as displayed throughout the Nippur Siege Text corpus. Since this text’s language is the closest to that of a sale document (ina ḫu-ud lìbbi-šu SAL A-la-an-ni-šú . . . [i]d-din), it may be possible that the contract did not assign a price lest it appear as if the girl was being sold in the same manner as a slave and therefore had the status of a slave. Further support for this suggestion can be found in the two contracts that do assign prices (2 NT 293 and 295), both of which sell the girls for a low sum.

The Evolving Use of ṣaḫirtu The only consistent element in the three Nippur texts is the term describing the girl; she is a ṣaḫirtu, a young girl. 38 Yet even this seemingly uni36.  During the NB period, slave children were, on average, worth 18 shekels, and free people were hired at 3 to 12 shekels per year (ibid., 115). 37.  Oppenheim, “Siege Documents from Nippur,” 82. 38.  Note that eight of the nine Nippur Siege Texts relate the sale of a little girl. The ninth text explains the sale of a little boy. See also ibid., 70.

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fying term cannot go without comment. Oppenheim noted that the term ṣaḫirtu was strange. 39 He understood the term with an incorrect meaning, “slave-girl-like status”; therefore, the issue for him was that the girls sold as ṣaḫirtu were not typical slave girls, for they were sold from a free status into slave status. He hypothesizes that the scribes used the word to draw attention to the situation at hand and also to create a separate class for these girls, for “the special status of these sale transactions seemed to have caused the ancient scribes some troubles.” 40 The term ṣaḫirtu is a biological term used primarily to describe a prepubescent girl. Because the term is descriptive of an age category, technically it can be used of slave or free children; however, in most texts it describes free children. A slave girl, on the other hand, is more often called lú SAL or KUR-ka-ši. 41 Oppenheim’s intuition that these texts, and the term ṣaḫirtu in particular, present a categorical tension is insightful. What is the status of the ṣaḫirtu, the free-born child who is subsequently sold? Here, postcolonial theory and its call to move beyond binary opposition structures can be instructive. 42 We can understand the term ṣaḫirtu not only as a category of biological age but also as a category of status. In these particular texts, I suggest understanding ṣaḫirtu as neither “slave” nor “free,” but as a girl of “in-between” status. She is a free child supported by someone other than her family. It may be too much to suggest that the scribe intentionally chose the term ṣaḫirtu to describe the child’s “in-between” status, but it is interesting to think of that definition as within its range of semantic meanings. The term literally means “to diminish, make small.” Not only were the girls in the Nippur Siege Texts small in a physical, biological sense, but their status was reduced. Each moved from a known social category, free daughter, to a new category, free daughter sold by her own father.

Ṣaḫirtu: A New Status Returning to the question of the “sold-free” child’s status, we see that the child existed in a liminal space. The child was born free and was af­ forded all the social and legal rights inherent in this status. However, due to her sale, she was no longer her father’s responsibility, but neither did an­ other man gain legal responsibility for her through marriage or adoption. 39.  Ibid., 83. 40. Ibid. 41. Ibid. 42. D. Boyarin, Border Lines: The Partition of Judaeo-Christianity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2006); H. Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London: Routledge, 1994).

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The girl exists somewhere in between free and slave or perhaps in some overlap of the two. Postcolonial theorist Bhabha speaks of a third space of enunciation, “the space of intervention emerging in the cultural interstices that introduces creative invention into existence.” 43 Borders exist within society to distinguish one group from another. For example, the categories “free” and “slave” cue us in as to how to understand the role of a particular person. However, it is possible for a person to not only be on one side or the other of the border, but in fact to straddle the border, such as the free-born child sold into slavery. A person found in this circumstance exists in a place that is not easy to identify. One way to understand that space is through what Bhabha calls “hybrid hyphenizations,” which “emphasize the incommensurable elements . . . as the basis of cultural identifications.” 44 In other words, a liminal state ceases to be liminal but becomes a static, inhabitable space recognized by society. In the Nippur Siege Texts, this liminal space is occupied by free children sold into another’s care during times of communal distress, and I identify that the texts struggle with how to describe them. Perhaps the scribes did not intentionally assign a new meaning to the term ṣaḫirtu, but reading ṣaḫirtu here as a new social category—that of “a young girl, not yet pubescent, born free and voluntarily sold into another’s care”—solves the difficulties of understanding each girl’s status. With this reading, the ṣaḫirtu was not a slave; though she may have performed the work of other slaves, she remained free and retained the legal and social rights established upon her birth. It is quite possible that this category was not recognized or understood by the Nippur population at large. If this was the case, a ṣaḫirtu remained in a liminal social state until she reached puberty and married. Only then would she leave the liminal state and fully reenter society, for at this point the girl would have a recognizable social status to which society could relate: wife and mother. One final point needs to be addressed here, and that is who would be able to marry off the girl transferred to Ninurta-uballiṭ as a ṣaḫirtu. 45 Because the father has given up legal responsibility for his daughter, the an43.  Ibid., 14. 44.  Ibid., 313. 45.  Note that a master had full legal rights over his slave and that an adopter has full legal rights over the adopted child. Also instructive in this matter are the Middle Assyrian Laws concerning debt-slaves or pledges. Laws A 39 and 48 suggest that a creditor in possession of a girl serving as a debt-pledge could marry off the girl but, before doing so, was required to get the father’s permission.

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swer is Ninurta-uballiṭ and/or his business partners (depending on who the Siege Texts list as the receiving parties). In this case, the “sale” of these girls benefits both the parents “selling” the girls and the “buyer.” The parents, presumably not as well-off as Ninurta-uballiṭ, have provided for their daughters by saving them from starvation. Ninurta-uballiṭ also benefits, for if he can provide for these girls throughout the siege, he then has the right to marry the girls off and collect their bride price.

Conclusion Recognizing that children were an important part of ancient societies, this essay has set out to explore the social mobility of children of the ANE, especially during times of economic hardship when social rules were bent to alleviate crushing destitution. During the Siege of Nippur and the resulting famine, the way in which the society viewed its children changed drastically. The Siege Texts attest that families began to sell their children. These sales were done in order to save the child’s life, though they also resulted in a free child becoming a slave and entering a liminal social space. The use of verbs in the Nippur siege texts, the prices paid for the children, and the unusual application of the term ṣaḫirtu highlight the tension caused by the selling of free children and their socially abnormal status as “free-sold child.”

The Administration of Copper Tools at Umma in the Ur III Period Charles Halton In an essay entitled, “Archival Practices at Babylonia in the Third Millennium,” Steinkeller presented a “hypothetical example” of the accounting procedures regarding the flow of copper in the Ur III Empire. 1 An examination of administrative texts dealing with copper reveal that, once a few small adjustments are made, Steinkeller’s “hypothetical” description is likely a very accurate outline of the accounting procedures that were in place during the Ur III period. This study will survey the trade of copper in the ancient Near East around the time of the Ur III period, adapt Steinkeller’s model, and link specific texts to each stage (Steinkeller does not cite any texts, including the following, in his discussion).

Copper Trade in the Ancient Near East Humans have used copper for at least 10,000 years. However, the his­ tory of copper within southern Mesopotamia begins more recently than this. A likely factor for the relatively late use of copper in this region is that copper is not native to Mesopotamia. Copper was found in areas surrounding Mesopotamia such as ancient Anatolia, Iran, Oman, and Cyprus, when erosion exposed ore that was near the earth’s surface. 2 The Sumerians imported copper and copper products from these locations through extensive, preexisting trade routes. In the late fourth Author’s note: Some of the highlights of my studies at Hebrew Union College were the many occasions Sam and I spent reading Sumerian texts together, so deep in thought that we lost track of time and had to apologetically rush back home to our wives. This kind of experience was not uncommon for Sam’s students because not only did he teach us so much about the ancient Near East but he also taught us what it is to be kind, generous, and thoughtful scholars. 1.  P. Steinkeller, “Archival Practices at Babylonia in the Third Millennium,” in Ancient Archives and Archival Practices (ed. M. Brosius; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003) 37–58. 2. I. de Ryck, A. Adriaens, and F. Adams, “An Overview of Mesopotamian Bronze Metallurgy During the 3rd Millennium bc,” Journal of Cultural Heritage 6 (2005) 261– 68.

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millennium, cuneiform documents list Dilmun, a term that includes Bahrain and the eastern Arabian coast, as a source for copper. 3 Pre-Sargonic texts indicate that merchants from southern Mesopotamia exchanged milk, cereal, fat, salve, wool, and silver for copper and wood from Dilmun. 4 However, Bahrain and Saudi Arabia do not contain any known copper deposits. Therefore, Dilmun functioned as an intermediary for the copper trade and likely received their supply of copper from the Oman Peninsula. 5 During the Old Akkadian period, references to Dilmun appear less frequently, and it seems that Sargon’s empire had direct connections with copper supplies from Magan and Meluhha, since he boasted that ships from these areas docked at his quay in Agade. 6 In the Ur III period, merchants traded di­rectly with Magan and exchanged garments, wool, leather, and oil for copper. 7

Smelting and Processing Techniques The process of making a metal object involves two principle elements: smelting and processing. Processing, or converting raw material into a finished good, is almost always necessary to produce a functional product. Apart from using a hunk of ore as a blunt object, most uses require shaped metal. Metal can be shaped in several ways with the simplest being cold hammering. However, this technique does have a significant drawback— cold hammering tends to make metal brittle. To avoid this, a metal may be heated and then allowed to cool slowly before hammering; this process is called annealing. Metal can also be forged. This process involves first heating metal and hammering it while it is hot. It does not appear that the Sumerians possessed the tools required to hold hot metal securely during hammering, so it is unlikely that forged metal products were made in this period. 8 Casting, pouring liquid metal into a mold, is another common way of processing metal. The earliest molds were one-piece and made of clay or 3.  H. J. Nissen, “The Occurrence of Dilmun in the Oldest Texts of Mesopotamia” in Bahrain through the Ages: The Archaeology (ed. H. A. Al Khalifa and M. Rice; London: Kegan Paul, 1986) 143–56. 4.  L. R. Weeks, Early Metallurgy of the Persian Gulf (Boston: Brill, 2003) 15, 80. 5. S. Cleuziou and S. Méry, “In-Between the Great Powers: The Bronze Age Oman Peninsula” in Essays on the Late Prehistory of the Arabian Peninsula (ed. S. Cleu­ ziou, M. Tosi, and J. Zarins; Serie Orientale Roma 93; Rome: Instituto Italiano per L’Africa e L’Oriente, 2002) 273–316. 6. W. Heimpel, “Das Untere Meer,” ZA 77 (1987) texts 13 and 20. 7.  A. L. Oppenheim, “Seafaring Merchants of Ur,” JAOS 74 (1954) 6–17; and W. F. Leemans, Foreign Trade in the Old Babylonian Period (Leiden: Brill, 1960) 19–21. 8.  P. R. S. Moorey, Ancient Mesopotamian Materials and Industries: The Archaeological Evidence (Oxford: Clarendon, 1994) 272.

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stone, while later molds were also made of baked clay or metal. The shape of the desired object was carved into stone or shaped as a “negative” into clay. In the fourth millennium, two-piece molds are attested. Investment casting, or the “lost wax” method, was also in use during the fourth millennium. 9 In this technique a model of the desired object was made of material that would burn or melt away with the application of heat—substances could include: animal fat, beeswax, resin, bitumen, insect bodies, or soft wood. The model was covered with clay and then heated to remove the “wax” mold. Then, liquid metal was poured into the mold and once dry the clay was removed and the metal object could be polished or finished further. Additionally, even though there is no textual or archaeological record of it, “sand-casting” may have taken place in Mesopotamia. In this method, a negative mold is formed into the ground and the liquid metal is poured directly into it. This may be the method described by the term bĕmaʾăbēh hāʾădāmâ in 1 Kgs 7:46. 10 However, it seems that casting was rarely done during the Ur III empire. Moorey notes that few vessels were made by casting in Mesopotamia before 1000 b.c.e.; instead, they were made from shaped sheet metal. 11 Before processing can take place a metal must undergo smelting, or extracting metal from ore. As with processing, there were several smelting techniques developed quite early in the ancient Near East. A high temperature pottery fabrication installation was in use in the sixth millennium at Çatal Hüyük (Yarim Tepe I) which indicates that one of the preconditions for smelting ore—the application of high temperature heat—was in place at this time. 12 Furthermore, Heskel points to a bracelet as indirect evidence that lead smelting also took place at Yarim Tepe I, because lead never occurs naturally in its pure state and thus requires smelting before fashioning. 13 By the fifth and fourth millennium, technologies that reached higher temperatures were implemented. However, Kayani demonstrated that a low-temperature bonfire smelting process was theoretically possible as early as the sixth millennium. 14 By using arsenic bearing secondary deposits, the 9.  Ibid., 271. 10.  Ibid., 270. 11.  Idem, “Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia,” in The Beginning of the Use of Metals and Alloys (ed. R. Maddin; Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1988) 31. 12. D. Oates and J. Oates, The Rise of Civilization (Oxford: Elsevier and Phaidon, 1976) 42. 13.  D. L. Heskel, “A Model for the Adoption of Metallurgy in the Ancient Near East,” Current Anthropology 24 (1983) 362. 14.  P. I. Kayani, “Formative Pyrotechnology in Northern Mesopotamia,” Peléorient 22/2 (1996) 133–41.

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temperature of the smelting process can be lowered to between 750–900 degrees Celsius. 15 Furthermore, firing determinations have shown that some pottery made in the sixth millennium reached a temperature of almost 1,050 degrees Celsius. Temperatures of up to 1,100 are attainable in a charcoal fire, which would be more than adequate for low-­temperature smelting. 16 Therefore, copper smelting was theoretically possible in the sixth millennium although evidence of it does not presently exist. 17 By the Ur III period, smelting and processing techniques were relatively advanced. Metals including copper, gold, silver, lead, and alloys such as bronze, as well as minerals such as arsenic and antimony were commonly used. 18 Smiths made an astonishing assortment of tools, vessels, and jew­ elry—for instance, Limet lists 163 distinct terms for metal objects that appear in Ur III economic documents. 19 There were two groups of craftsmen who worked with metal. A blacksmith, s imu g , was someone who did the heavy work of smelting and forging. The sign s i mu g reflects this because it represents a furnace with bellows. The silver or goldsmith, ku g -di m 2, was usually involved in the production of more refined objects.

Administration of Tools at Umma Steinkeller illustrates the accounting procedures surrounding the distribution of copper during the Ur III period as a linear process. 20 Raw materials entered the system through the central office which then transferred ore to the smith. After processing the smith then distributed tools to the farmers. If a tool needed fixing the farmers would give the implement back to the smith who would refashion the tool and return it to the farmer. Each step of this process would presumably produce a receipt and then the smith would gather the receipts and produce a balanced account. No doubt this is an accurate picture that coheres with the procedures used for other commodities and animals; however, the role of the central bureau could extend to each of these transactions either directly or indirectly. 363.

15.  Heskel, “A Model for the Adoption of Metallurgy in the Ancient Near East,”

16.  De Ryck et al., “An Overview of Mesopotamian Bronze Metallurgy during the 3rd Millennium bc,” 261. 17.  M. S. Tite and Y. Maniatis, “Examination of Ancient Pottery Using the Scanning Electron Microscope,” Nature 257 (1975) 122–23. 18. H. Limet, Le travail du metal au pays de Sumer au temps de la IIIe dynastie d’Ur (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1960) 29–74. 19.  Ibid., 198–236. 20.  Steinkeller, “Archival Practices at Babylonia in the Third Millennium,” 40 fig. 3.1.

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The central bureau did not directly instigate every transaction involving copper; however, central bureau officials do appear to have been involved in a supervisory role in transfers from one bureau to another. Because copper was a very valuable commodity, it would be weighed when it was transferred between bureaus or individuals in order to deter theft. Only the highest ranking officials at Umma, including the ruling family, functioned as weighing officials (indicated in the phrase, PN in-la2). 21 An essential function of the central administration of the province was to ensure the accuracy of transactions involving precious commodities. I now turn to a survey of the Umma documents involving copper, which illustrates this role of the central administration officials.

Central Bureau and the Acquisition of Raw Materials Tablets that indicate the delivery of raw copper and other materials used in metallurgy are very rare in the Umma corpus. One of them includes BM 112026: Obverse 24. 1 g un 2 35 ma-na ur ud a 25. 11 1/3 ma-na 1/3 g in 2 su-g an 26. ku g(ku 3)-t a s a 10-a 27. g i r 3 d am-gar 3-ne

1 gun 35 mana of copper 11 1/3 mana 1/3 gin metallurgical materials purchased 22 with money via merchants.

Reverse 28. mu-DU 29. mu ma 2 dE n-k i b a-ab -du 8

A delivery; year: Šu-Sin 2. 23

Presumably, this delivery was made to the central bureau, but because no receiving official is mentioned we cannot be certain. Steinkeller notes that mu-DU texts are fairly infrequent outside the Drehem corpus, and this might explain the rarity of delivery receipts for raw copper at Umma. 24 In any case, this text certainly indicates materials that are entering the 21. C. Halton, “Weighing Officials at Ur III Umma,” Cuneiform Digital Library Notes 2011: 002. On-line: http://cdli.ucla.edu/pubs/cdln/archives/000015.html. 22.  For a description of the meaning of the term s a 10, “to purchase,” see C. Wilcke, Early Ancient Near Eastern Law: A History of Its Beginnings (rev. ed.; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2007) 77. 23. T. Ozaki, M. Sigrist, and L. Verderame, Ur III Administrative Tablets from the British Museum: Part Two (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 2006) text 2278. All translations are my own. 24.  Steinkeller, “Archival Practices at Babylonia in the Third Millennium,” 38.

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administrative system at Umma because, in addition to the use of the term mu-DU, copper and metallurgical commodities were purchased from a damgar, merchant. Another tablet involving the acquisition of copper from a merchant specifically states that copper was deposited into the account of the weighing official. Even though the term mu -DU does not appear in SI 344991k, this tablet marks the entry of the copper into the Umma accounting system: Obverse   9. 20 g un 2 3 ma-na ur ud 10. k i d am -gar 3-t a 11. a - gu 3 Gu-du-du b a-a-gar 12. k iš ib Ur-dNun-g a l

20 gun 3 mana copper from a merchant deposited into Gududu’s account. Seal of Ur-Nungal.

Reverse 13. (Seal) 14. mu e2 dŠara2 ba-du3

Year: Šu-Sin 9. 25

From these texts it appears that the weighing officials acquired copper and put it on their own books until it was transferred to the smith. Therefore, the weighing officials functioned as intermediaries between commodity brokers and the artisans involved in production. Furthermore, their role apparently could involve taking on risk since this text indicates that the weighing official did not merely facilitate the transport of copper but also received financial responsibility for the commodities as they were entered into their account.

Central Bureau as Physical Intermediary As Steinkeller outlined, it seems that the central bureau first acquired copper and then transferred it to the smith for production. Just as very few extant texts record the acquisition of raw copper by the central bureau, there are comparatively few tablets that record the distribution of copper ore to the smiths. ASM 12123 records the transfer of copper from the receiving official, Dadaga, to the smith, Urnigar: Obverse 12. 5 ma -na ur ud a api nzab a

5 mana of copper for a bronze plow

25.  D. I. Owen,  Neo-Sumerian Texts from American Collections (Materiali per il Vocabolario Neosumerico 15; Rome: Unione Accademica Nazionale–Multigrafica Edi­ trice, 1991) text 355.

The Administration of Copper Tools at Umma 13. 15 g i n 2 su 3-GAN 15 14. k i D a -d a-ga-t a 15. Ur- ni 9-gar si mug

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gin of metallurgical material from Dadaga Urnigar, the smith,

Reverse 16. 17. 18. 19.

šu b a -t i received (them). (Seal) it i dL i 9-[si 4] Month: 9; mu Ha - ar-[ši]ki / Ki - maš ki b a-hu l year: Šulgi 48. 26

In this text, the transfer of raw materials is designated for the production of a specific tool. The final product is rarely specified in receipts that record the transfer of raw materials. It could be that Dadaga transferred the ore to the smith with the goal of producing a tool for workers of his own personal lands or lands that he supervised on behalf of the central bureau. Therefore, he specified the particular tool that his workers needed. This receipt belonged to Urnigar and he could have used it in the case of a dispute over the finished product that he delivered to Dadaga. Not only did the central administrative officials distribute raw materials but they also processed goods. For instance, BM 106358 (Amar-Sin 5 viii) records the transfer of a goldsmith’s cauldron from the central office official Ur-Šara. Presumably, the goldsmith’s cauldron needed repair because it is not qualified with the designation b a - z i - i r, “scrap.” Halulu was a s i mu g , which was similar to a blacksmith or forger; that is, Halulu worked mainly with copper and bronze and did not deal with fine or decorative metals. After repair, Halulu would have returned the cauldron to Ur-Šara, who would have weighed it to ensure that the smith did not hold back any copper: Obverse 23. 1 urudaše n ku 3-d i m 2 24. k i- l a 2-bi 10 [ma]-na l a 2 10 g in 2 25. k i Ur- dŠ ar a 2-t a 26. Ha - lu 5-lu 5 simug 27. šu ba-ti

1 goldsmith’s cauldron, its weight, 10 mana minus 10 gin. From Ur-Šara; Halulu, the smith, received it.

Reverse 28. it i e 2-it i-6 29. [e 2] ku 3- an-t a e 3-a

Month: 8; left at the goldsmith’s workshop.

26.  D. I. Owen and E. Wasilewska, “Cuneiform Texts in the Arizona State Mu­ seum, Tucson,” JCS 52 (2000) 13, text 59.

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30. mu E n -unu 6-ga l dInan na b a-hun Year: Amar-Sin 5. 27

From this text, it appears that the central bureau acted as an intermediary. Both the blacksmith’s workshop and the goldsmith’s atelier were within the administrative purview of the central bureau. 28 Interoffice transfers first went to the central bureau overseer who then drew up documentation for each party. In addition to relatively rare items such as a goldsmith’s cauldron, the central bureau also transferred more mundane tools. However, every metal object was valuable and was therefore documented, whether it was a specialized artisanal implement or a run-of-the-mill farmer’s hoe. For instance, ANM 3963 records the transfer of a number of copper sickles from the central bureau official Dadaga to Laʾamu, the smith: Obverse 12. [x]uruda k in [x] sickle(s) 13. k i -l a 2-bi 1 ma-na 2 g i n 2 its weight, 1 mana, 2 gin. 14. k i D a -d a-ga-t a From Dadaga; 15. L a -a -mu Laʾamu

Reverse 14. šu b a -t i 15. it i p a 4-u 2-e 16. mu a -r a 2 3-k am Si -mu-r u-um ki 17. ba-hul

received them. Month 9; year: Šulgi 34. 29

In the two texts above the central bureau acted as an intermediary. That is, two offices wanted to trade objects or commodities and the central bureau facilitated this event. Thus, the central bureau would keep these items “on its books” as long as it would take to transfer the item from one office to another and a receipt would accompany both sides of the transaction. In addition to facilitating interoffice transfers, if the term mu -DU does in fact signify the point at which an object entered the administrative system, 30 then the central office also procured finished copper products from 27. T. Ozaki and S. Satō, Selected Neo-Sumerian Administrative Texts from the British Museum (Abiko: Research Institute, Chuo-Gakuin University, 1990) text 359. 28.  Limet, Le travail du metal au pays de Sumer au temps de la IIIe dynastie d’Ur, 166. 29. M. Touzalin, Etude De L’administration Palatiale D’apres Des Documents Inedits De La 3eme Dynastie D’ur (Ph.D. diss., Université François Rabelais, 1982) text 494. La’amu is listed among the simug, smiths, in another tablet in a private collection, G.  Contenau, “Tablettes de comptabilité relatives à l’industrie du cuivre à Umma au XXIIIe siècle,” RA 12 (1915) 20 text 9. 30.  Steinkeller, “Archival Practices in the Third Millenium,” 40 fig 3.1.

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outside the provincial accounting system. Ist Um 3229 records the delivery of 2/3 mana of copper, the work (a2) of Gurzana. While the actual tool is not specified, the copper is qualified by the term a2, which literally means “arm,” however, by extension also means “labor.” Therefore, the phrase a2 Gurzana or “work of Gurzana” likely signifies a value-added good because Gurzana was a smith. 31 Because a2 does not refer to a specific object, it is likely that the copper was processed but not yet fashioned into a final product: Obverse 16. 2/3 ma - na ur ud a 17. a 2 Gu r 4-z a-an 18. mu-DU 19. Gu -du -du 20. šu b a -t i

2/3 mana of copper, the work of Gurzana. A delivery; Gududu received it.

Reverse 21. ————— 22. it i-dir i 23. mu e 2 dŠar a 2 / b a-du 3

Month: 13; year: Šu-Sin 9. 32

Central Bureau as “Auditor” of Transactions and Transfers The most common role of central bureau officials was to supervise transfers of valuable materials that needed to be weighed in order to ensure a transparent transaction. In these instances, the central bureau did not take possession of the goods; rather, the official merely acted as an “auditor” of the transaction by verifying the weight of copper implement(s). Not only did this procedure ensure a transparent transaction, but this also prevented various parties from discretely breaking off pieces of metal products and selling them on the black market. There were several individuals with the name Ur-Suen in the Umma texts. However, if the Ur-Suen in Ist Um 3229 is Ur-Suen, the engar, farmer (compare with BM 110116 33), this tablet is a receipt that was given to UrSuen as verification that he returned all of the tools and that they were intact: 31.  Crozer 011 (M. Sigrist, Documents from Tablet Collections in Rochester, New York [Bethesda, MD: CDL, 1991] text 158 [Šu Sin 3 vii]) lists Gurzana as a simug, smith. 32. F. Yildiz and T. Gomi, Die Umma-Texte Aus Den Archäologischen Museen Zu Istanbul (vol. 5; Bethesda, MD: CDL, 2000) text 3229. 33. K. Maekawa, “The Management of Domain Land in Ur III Umma : A Study of BM 110116,” Zinbun 22 (1987) 25 obverse, column vi, line 9.

Charles Halton

148 Obverse

  8. 2 urudha -[bu 3]-d a 1/2 ma-na-t a   9. k i- l a 2-bi 5/6 ma-n[a] / 6 g i[n 2]

2 copper hoes 1⁄2 mana the weight was 5/6 mana, 6 gin

Reverse 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15.

k in t i l - l[a] k i Ur-dSuen-[t a] Gu - du-[du] in-/[l a2] (Seal) it i dD u mu-zi mu Si-mu-r u-um ki / b a-hu l

(yielding) complete tools. From Ur-Suen; Gududu weighed (them). Month: 12; year: Ibbi-Sin 3.

This receipt does not indicate that Gududu took possession of the tools, merely that he weighed them. Possibly the tools needed refurbishing and were given to the smith. This receipt would then serve as proof that UrSuen did not steal any copper and when he received the tools back from the smith he could verify that the smith was not engaged in fraud. Ist Um 2548 records a similar event in which the weighing official, Lukala, audited hoes from Alulu, a kurušda, fattener (JRL 0540 34 line 4 and the seal with FLP 2526 35): Obverse   9. 8 urudha -[bu3]-d a 2/3 ma-na-[t a] 10. k i -l a 2-bi 4 5/6 [ma]-na 4 gin2 11. k in t i l -l a 12. [ki] A-lu 5-lu 5-t a

8 2/3 mina hoes a weight of 4 5/6 mina, 4 shekels a complete work. From Alulu;

Reverse 13. 14. 15. 16. 17.

Lu 2-k a l -l a i n -l a 2 it i dD u mu-zi mu dŠu -dSue n lug a le na - r u 2-a-ma h dE nl i l 2 dNin-li l 2-r a mu-n e -du 3

Lukala weighed (them). Month: 12; year: Šu-Sin 6. 36

When the smiths returned the tools, they kept a receipt for their own records. These receipts were compiled into summary accounts from which 34. T. Fish, Catalogue of Sumerian Tablets in the John Rylands Library (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1932) text 540. 35.  D. I. Owen, M. Sigrist, and G. D. Young, The John Frederick Lewis Collection (Materiali per il Vocabolario Neosumerico 3; Rome: Unione Accademica Nazionale– Multigrafica Editrice, 1975) text 561. 36. F. Yildiz and T. Gomi, Die Umma-Texte Aus Den Archäologischen Museen Zu Istanbul (vol. 4; Bethesda, MD: CDL, 1997) text 2548.

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balanced accounts would be made. HE 77 is likely a summary of the transfers made by two smiths, Laʾamu and Urnigar, during the course of one day: Obverse 10. 12 urudha -[bu 3]-d a 11. k i -l a 2-bi 6 5/6 ma-na 7 g i n 2 12. L a -a -mu 13. 17 urudha -[bu3]-d a 14. k i -l a 2-bi 10 5/6 ma-[na] 15. Ur- n i 9-gar

12 copper hoes a weight of 6 5/6 mina and 7 shekels Laʾamu 17 copper hoes a weight of 10 5/6 mina Urnigar

Reverse 16. k in t i l -l a 17. k i simu g-n e -n e -t a 18. (scribe left blank a space of one line) 19. it i RI 20. mu dAmar-dSue n luga l

a complete work. From the smiths. Month: 5; Amar-Sin: 1. 37

Conclusions This survey of the transactions involving copper has shown two things. First, the overall scheme of Steinkeller’s outline of the administration of copper in the Ur III period is fundamentally sound. However, a small adjustment is necessary. In addition to their role as the receiving office, officials within the central bureau also functioned as weight inspectors/auditors. Therefore, the weighing official could be involved at any point in the administration of copper as an independent auditor ensuring the transparency of transactions. 37. G. Contenau, Contribution À L’histoire Économique D’umma (Paris: Cham­ pion, 1915) text 077.

Rabbi Joshua Briskin’s Tav Y’hoshua Yalkut Derekh Ereẓ, A Handbook for Busy Jews Rabbi Barton Lee In 1885, Rabbi Joshua Briskin published a small book called Tav Y’hoshua: Yalkut Derekh Ereẓ. 1 Briskin noted that his book dealt with subjects which were very well known but easily forgotten, things that appear in “all the halls” of great Jewish books. But, he observed, people in his time had no time to study all of these sacred texts to find and review items of derekh ereẓ, gracious and moral conduct. So Briskin offered a collection of “rules of derekh ereẓ” organized by subject. Briskin asserted that by following the rules he has set out, Jews can attain harmonious, just, and gracious interpersonal and social relationships. The little we know about Briskin comes from brief references to himself in prefatory words in other books he published. Briskin describes himself as serving as a rabbi, teacher, and legal authority in Odessa, having previously been in Tolchin and Konstantingrad. He writes on several topics, including alphabetical compilations of certain laws from Shulḥan Arukh and a compendium on care of body and soul. Briskin writes in rabbinic Hebrew, drawing on a wide variety of traditional sources. He rarely writes in the first person, and thus he does not reveal his own thought processes or criteria for his selections. Briskin’s Tav Yehoshua on Derekh Ereẓ does get a bibliographical citation in the old Jewish Encyclopedia. 2 On the title page of Yalkut Derekh Ereẓ, Briskin describes his work: “I have marked out well and clearly all the rules and right conduct which are very much forgotten by and [much needed] by every person.” 3 He notes Author’s note: To pay tribute to my teacher and friend, Dr. Sam Greengus, is a great honor. Dr. Greengus advised and guided me in translating the Briskin book; his modesty, enthusiasm and prodigious knowledge of Jewish texts are inspiring. I am deeply grateful to him 1.  The original edition is J. Briskin, Tav Y’hoshua: Hanhagut Adam, Hilchot Derekh Erez (Warsaw, 1885), with no publisher listed in the 1885 manuscript. A more recent Hebrew edition can be found in J. Briskin, Yalkut Derekh Ereẓ (Jerusalem: Institute for the Study of Torah in the Land of Israel, 1964). 2.  See J. D. Eisenstein, “Etiquette,” JE 5:259–61. 3.  Translation from my Yalkut Derekh Erez: A Collection on Derekh Erez (Gracious

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that in writing about derekh ereẓ, he wants to remind people about things they already know. Indeed, they concern every day matters that people forget or ignore. Briskin asserts that failure to follow the rules of gracious and moral conduct causes strife, dissension, and even hatred among people, bringing both spiritual and physical harm. To prevent this and to remind people about the many rules of proper human conduct, Briskin searches the vast resources of Jewish tradition and assembles them all in one book, so the rules of right conduct may be accessible in what we would today describe as a handbook. Following Zipperstein’s description of Jewish life in Odessa at this period, 4 it is reasonable to suggest that Briskin recognized that in the developing economy there, where Jews had new and exciting business opportunities, many Jews were too busy to devote themselves fully to Torah study but still wished to be faithful to Jewish practice. Briskin responded to that reality by creating a handbook on the specifics of derekh ereẓ, the rules of gracious and moral conduct, for their handy reference. Briskin’s handbook is not “derekh ereẓ for dummies.” He writes for Jewishly literate folks, traditional in tastes, if not fully punctilious in observance, but involved the new world of economic and cultural opportunity. In the classic rabbinic literature, derekh ereẓ has at least four different meanings: the normal or usual way of the world, the occupation by which one makes a living, sexual intercourse, and good manners. In his handbook, Briskin does not make clear distinctions among these meanings. He conflates the different meanings of derekh ereẓ in the rules he cites and he subsumes them all in the category of rules of derekh ereẓ. Many of the rules he cites as derekh ereẓ concern matters usually best described by the word “moral.” Many others could be classified as “good manners.” Thus, it seems to me that the best translation of the term derekh ereẓ, as Briskin uses it, is “gracious and moral conduct.” Briskin also uses the term dinim, which usually connotes “law.” Indeed, many of the dinim cited are halakhot, laws quoted from Jewish legal sources. But many of the citations labeled as dinim of derekh ereẓ are from nonlegal sources. Many of the dinim, especially concerning food, clothes, or the bathhouse, are clearly issues which should be characterized as “good manners.” Thus, it seems best to translate dinim as Briskin uses the term and Moral Conduct among People) Compiled by Joshua Briskin. A Critical Translation (Ph.D. diss., Hebrew Union College 1997) 26. 4.  S. J. Zipperstein, The Jews of Odessa: A Cultural History, 1794–1881 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1986).

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here, as “rules.” Briskin thus creates a handbook of rules of derekh ereẓ, gracious and moral conduct. Briskin’s compilation of rules of derekh ereẓ is worthy of study both for reasons of scholarship and also as a practical source for guidance from Jewish sources about how to build harmonious Jewish communities, achieve personal wellbeing, and develop warm, respectful, and positive relationships. Scholars will find Briskin’s selection of texts interesting and useful in understanding how the definition of derekh ereẓ has expanded and changed. Briskin consistently encourages his readers “ayain sham, look it up there,” frequently giving the location of the sources, which he is likely quoting from memory. Jews of today are no less busy than the Jews of 1885 in Odessa for whom Briskin wrote his handbook. Few people can go it alone through “all the halls of Jewish sacred texts.” Thus, a “handbook” such as Briskin’s Yalkut Derekh Ereẓ provides helpful guidance for busy Jews today, even as it provided guidance in 1885. This essay offers here a translation of ch. 12, “Rules of Derekh Ereẓ Regarding Damage to the Body and Life of One’s Fellow Human Being.” 5 1.  One must be very careful not to strike one’s fellow person. For if one does strike him, one transgresses a prohibition as it is written, “If the guilty one is to be flogged, the magistrate shall have him lie down and be given lashes in his presence, by count, as his guilt warrants. He may be given 40 lashes, but not more, lest being flogged further, to excess, your brother be degraded before your eyes” (Deut 25:2). If the Torah is particularly exacting about the flogging of a wicked person, so as not to hit him more than his wickedness deserves, how much the more so [does it prohibit] hitting a righteous person [who does not deserve to be hit at all]. Further, whoever raises a hand against his fellow person to strike him, even though he has not [actually] hit him, is called “wicked,” as it is written, “He said to the guilty person: ‘Why would you strike your fellow?’” (Exod 2:13). “Why did you strike?” is not written here, rather “why would you strike?”—even though he has not yet struck him, he is deemed wicked. Regarding whosoever strikes his fellow person, his punishment is explained in Shulḥan Arukh at length. 2.  Sometimes it is permitted to strike a person [with permission and knowledge of the government], and the person inflicting this striking 5.  The translation is adapted from the critical translation in my dissertation, Yalkut Derekh Erez, 288–96, which itself is based on the 1964 Hebrew edition, Briskin, Yalkut Derekh Ereẓ, 98–101. Footnotes are my own, not belonging to Briskin’s text.

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is performing a commandment, as the details are well explained in the Shulḥan Arukh of Shneur Zalman of Liady. 6 3.  If one has a servant who does not obey him, even so it is prohibited to strike him. But if he made a condition with him [the servant] at the beginning, when he hired him, that he would be permitted to strike him [the servant], it is permitted [to do so]. In any case, however, the servant can renege on this [arrangement] afterwards, and the reason for it is explained in the Shulḥan Arukh of Shneur Zalman of Liady. 7 4.  One who frightens his fellow person—for example, he shouts at him from behind him, or he appears to him in darkness and similar matters—even though he is exempt according to the laws of humankind, he is culpable according to the laws of Heaven, as explained in the Shulḥan Arukh of Shneur Zalman of Liady there. 8 5.  A person who injures his fellow person even unintentionally, even though he has given him the money [that] he is obligated to pay him for the injury, this does not make atonement for him until he seeks forgiveness from the injured party, [asking] that he pardon him concerning the pain that [he had caused]. And the injured party is not permitted to be so cruel as not to forgive him. Further, this [principle] applies to one who steals from his fellow person and to one who robs his fellow. Even though [the culprit] returns the stolen or robbed object, it [the restitution] does not atone for him until he seeks forgiveness from him [the victim] for the pain he caused him when he stole from him or when he robbed him. But one who causes damage to the money of his fellow person, immediately when he pays him [recompense], atonement is made for him, and he does not have to ask [the wronged party] to forgive him. 9 6.  One must be careful not to throw pieces of broken glass objects and similar things into a place where people could be injured by this. 7. A person who has a sick neighbor who has a headache and the sound of striking injures him, then one should not pound latticework, even in his house or barn, and other similar things, where the sound of striking them would reach the house of one’s neighbor and injure him. 8.  When one sees one’s fellow person in trouble, God forbid, and one can save him, either he, himself, or by hiring others to save him, then one is obligated to take the trouble and hire [others] to save him, and then turn to him for repayment if he has any [money to repay him]. But if he [the one in 6.  Shulḥan Arukh Ḥoshen Mishpat (henceforth cited as Ḥoshen Mishpat), Laws of Damages to Body and Life and Their Regulations, paragraph 1. 7. Ibid., paragraph 4. 8.  Ibid., paragraphs 5–6. 9.  Ibid., paragraph 6; and see m. B. Qam. 8:7.

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trouble] has no [money], one should nevertheless not refrain [from saving him] on this account. He should save him [the other person] with his [own] money. And if he refrains [from doing so] he transgresses [the prohibition] “Do not stand idly by the blood of your neighbor” (Lev 19:16). Similarly, if one has heard from some wicked people [that they] are plotting evil against his fellow person or [the fact that such wicked people were] setting a trap for him, and he does not make it known to his fellow [the intended victim], or if he can appease them [the plotters] with money on behalf of his fellow person and prevent what is in their heart and he does not appease them, and similar things—[such a person] transgresses [the prohibition], “Do not stand idly by the blood of your neighbor” (Lev 19:16). For whoever preserves one life in Israel, it is as if he preserves a whole world, 10 and even [with] a Jew who is a sinner, like an alienated Jew who eats non-Kosher food to satisfy his appetite, it is a commandment to save him, and it is forbidden to stand idly by his blood. Indeed, [people] are obligated to trouble [themselves] to save his body and even to save his money, as explained in the Shulḥan Arukh of Shneur Zalman of Liady. 11 9.  One who occupies himself with forgery, and there is a suspicion that he may endanger the community thereby, the law applying to him is like that of the “pursuer,” and they should warn him so that he not do it. Then, if he does not watch himself [that is, desist from doing it], it is permissible to hand him over to the governmental authorities and to say that no one else [in the community] is occupied in this except for x alone. Similarly an individual whom they [the authorities] accuse because of x can say to them, “I did not do it rather, [it was] x alone,” as explained in Shulḥan Arukh, Ḥoshen Mishpat, Chapter 388 12 and in the Shulḥan Arukh of Shneur Zalman of Liady. 13 10.  One must be very careful when saving a person’s life to see that, while saving this life, he does not destroy the life of another person in the process. Therefore, with a pregnant woman, when she is having difficulty 10.  M. Sanh. 4:5. The better manuscripts leave out “from Israel.” See Albeck’s additions at the end of m. Sanh. 4:5, The Six Orders of the Mishna (ed. H. Albeck; Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1959) 445. 11.  Ḥoshen Mishpat, Laws of Damages to Body and Life and Their Regulations, paragraphs 7–8. 12.  Paragraph 11 cites Karo’s ruling that one who informs on the community and troubles it may be turned over to non-Jewish authorities for corporal punishment or fine, but this is not permitted in the case of an informer who troubles an individual. Isserles gives the case here which Briskin cites. 13.  Ḥoshen Mishpat, Laws of Damages to Body and Life and Their Details, paragraph 14.

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giving birth, from the time the head of the fetus has emerged, it is not permitted to destroy the fetus, either with a drug or by hand, in order to save the mother, for we do not set aside one life for another, and this is the nature of the world. But if the fetus is within her [the mother’s] uterus, and [the fetus] has not yet stretched out its head at all, then, since it has not come forth to the air of the world, the term living person does not apply to it, and it is permitted to destroy the fetus there and to save the mother, since [the fetus] is like the case of the “one who pursues” his fellow person [trying] to kill him. 14 The essential details of the laws in the matters pertaining to damage to body and life are well explained at length in the Shulḥan Arukh of Shneur Zalman of Liady in the Laws of Damages to Body and Life. Look it up there. 15 11.  Whether one is obligated to place one’s self in potential mortal danger in order to assuredly save the life of his fellow person, whether one is not obligated but is permitted to do so if he wants to do so, as an act of special piety or out of love of his fellow person; or whether he is not allowed to endanger himself at all for his fellow, even as an act of special piety—about this [issue] the great among the early and later authorities have elaborated at length. It is cited in the Pitḥei Teshuvah 16 in chapter 152, that the Bet Yosef 17in Ḥoshen Mishpat, chapter 426, wrote in the name of Hagahot Maimuni that a person must endanger himself for a fellow person in the case where the danger to himself is only potential [and] where it is certain [that he could] save his fellow person. Look it up there. However Elijah, [Gaon of Vilna,] in his [book] Yad Eliayahu, wrote of these different rulings, to wit, that if the two of them were equal in character, for example if both of them were Torah scholars or ignorant persons and, how much the more so, if the one who could save was a Torah scholar and the one who would be saved were an ignorant person, then he is not allowed at all to endanger himself, even potentially, even as a special degree of piety, [and even] when the saving is certain. But if the person doing the saving is not a Torah scholar like the one to be saved, then it is permitted to the one who saves to put himself into potential danger where saving [the other] is certain. However he is not obligated in the matter, for this is only an act of special piety if he wishes. Look it up there. 14. Cf. m. ʾOhal. 7:6 and m. Sanh. 72b. See also Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Ha-Roẓeaḥ, U’Sh’mirat Nefesh 1:9. 15. Cf. Shulḥan Arukh, Ḥoshen Mishpat, 426:1; and Shulḥan Arukh of Shneur Zalman of Liady, Laws of Damages to Body and Life, no. 7. 16.  Shulḥan Arukh, Yoreh Deah 152:1, commentary by Rabbi Abraham Zvi Eisenstadt; see comment 1 of Pitḥei Teshuvah. 17.  Commentary by Joseph Karo. See the Bet Yosef on Tur, Ḥoshen Mishpat 426:1.

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Similarly cited there in chapter 157:15 18 is the responsum of Rabbi David ben Zimra who held that one does not place himself in potential danger to save a fellow person even when for certain [he can save him]. [Nor may one do this] even as an act of special piety, for such a person is a pious fool, because in doubt, one’s own life takes precedence over his fellow’s. Look it up there. 19 12.  Even though one is obligated to protest against those who commit a sin and whoever does not protest when he has the power to protest is held responsible for the same sin, nevertheless, a person is not obligated to spend his money on this [protesting the sin]. Therefore, they were accustomed to be lenient with protesting against those who commit a sin because one suspects that they [the sinning people] would threaten our bodies or possessions, as explained in Shulḥan Arukh, Yoreh Deah in the Isserles, Chapter 334. 20 And the [learned] Gaon [of Vilna] wrote a responsum concerning this matter [holding] that one is lenient only in the case of those who will do certain damage, but not in the case of those who merely permit themselves something forbidden in order to flatter one who has a little standing in some kind of governmental authority or some other kind of tyranny, even though they do not do real damage. Look it up there. The authorities also wrote concerning this that, in a place where there is worry about doing something, lest a wicked person harm someone and cause him a loss—for his [the] hand [of the offender] is mighty, and this time is one where arrogant [and offensive] behavior is countenanced, and we do not have the power to subdue him—there permission [is granted] to honor such persons, and [to do so] in the manner people honor men of great power, from fear and terror. And in a case like this our Sages, of blessed memory, said that it is permitted to flatter the wicked in this world. However, this applies specifically in the matters of rising and respect and similar things [having to do] with [the trappings of] honor. But [it is not permitted] to praise their deeds in front of people, as explained in the book Raysheet Ḥokhma. 21 Look it up there, and look in the Yad K’tanah 22 for many different laws on this matter. 13.  One is not allowed to make a law for himself [permitting him] to degrade his fellow person nor for things similar to this concerning money 18.  Cited by the Pitḥei Teshuvah on Yoreh Deah 152:1. 19.  Ibid., See also m. Sanh. 73a and Sifra, Behar Sinai 5 for passages on which this discussion is based. 20.  Yoreh Deah 334:18, 46 and the Isserles there. 21.  By Elijah de Vidas. 22.  A collection of principles and rules on the 613 commandments according to Maimonides, written by R. Baerish b. Jacob of Lemburg, published in 1800.

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matters, and how much the more so [may he] not [degrade someone] in the case where his fellow person intends to be obedient to the law, as explained in Shulḥan Arukh, Yoreh Deah in the Isserles, chapter 334, paragraph 26. Concerning the matter of making a law for one’s self, that is, when that is permitted, and all of the different laws pertaining to it is explained in Ḥoshen Mishpat 4. Look it up there. 23 Further, concerning the saving of wicked people [from committing an offense] and similar matters—whether dealing with their life or their money 24—[these] are explained in Shulḥan Arukh, Yoreh Deah, chapter 158 and chapter 251. Look it up there. 25 14.  He who brings fear on the community, not for the sake of Heaven, for example, one who rules the community harshly and people fear and are afraid of him, and his intentions are strictly to glorify himself and [increase] his possessions, [but] not for the sake of Heaven—such a person is one of those people who has no share in the world to come, as explained in the words of our Sages, of blessed memory, and in the Rambam: 26 there are 24 [kinds] of people who are cut off and perish and are judged according to the greatness of their evil and their sins forever and ever. Look it up there, where they are enumerated in detail. Nevertheless, even [with] these people, if one of them turns from his evil way and becomes a penitent, then he is among those who [inherit] the world to come. Look it up there. 15.  A person does not have [total legal] authority even over his own body to strike it, nor to degrade it, nor to cause it pain at all, nor even with refraining from any food or drink—unless he does this as a form of repentance, or similar matters which are good for him, so much so that there is nothing better than this [that is, repentance], as explained in Baba Kamma, chapter 8, Mishna 6, in the Magen Avraham, Chapter 570 27 and similarly in the Shulḥan Arukh of Shneur Zalman of Liady in the Laws of Damages to Body and Life. 28 Look it up there in the Kuntras Aḥaron, where he draws an 23.  See also Isserles there. 24.  The issues here include what in American parlance is called a “citizen’s arrest” and what measures are legitimate to take in stopping an offense. 25.  Chapter 158:1–2; chapter 251 Paragraphs 1 and 2 hold that regarding one who is a sinner intentionally and does not do teshuvah—there is no obligation to keep him alive through charity or loans. One who sins for spite need not be redeemed if he is taken captive. Isserles permits it if people wish to redeem him, but he does not require it. 26. See Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Teshuvah, chs. 8–9. 27.  M. B. Qam. 8:7. The Magen Avraham to Shulḥan Arukh, Oraḥ Ḥayim 570 is not related to this matter. No such numbers appear in the other volumes. 28.  Shulḥan Arukh of Shneur Zalman of Liady, Ḥoshen Mishpat, Laws Concerning Damage to Body and Life and Their Regulations, paragraph 4.

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analogy concerning this prohibition to pain ones’ body, to Jacob our father whose food was carobs and ice, and he did not pay any attention to this [that is, to] causing pain to his body. However, someone who says as is stated above, namely, that one is not even allowed to degrade his body for the sake of [his] monetary needs [in making a living, should note what] our Sages taught in the Talmud: “It is better to flay carcasses, etc.” 29 But there remains much in this matter which requires considerable further study. Look it up there. 29.  B. Pes. 113a. It is better to flay carcasses and earn wages than put on airs and not work. The implication here is that one’s status and body can be degraded for the sake of making a living at a base trade rather than becoming dependent on charity which is an even bigger disgrace.

The Changing Face of Victory R. Russell Mack Before going to war in the ancient Near East, kings would consult a diviner seeking a victory oracle. Delivered through both inductive and noninductive means, these oracles were promises of divine assistance in battle. 1 Victory oracles were common throughout the ancient Near East. 2 Attested from the 18th century b.c.e. through the Second Temple period, this form was relatively stable and characterized by common features that varied from one culture to another. This essay discusses the victory oracle in its standard form and examines the significance of changes to the form that appear in the Hebrew Bible. However, before beginning this examination, it is important to acknowledge an underlying problem that plagues any study of genres. How is a particular genre to be delimited? A genre is a literary category, defined by thematic as well as formal criteria, and indicates a historically existent type. 3 Genre boundaries demarcate a literary form and serve to establish and preserve the form’s function and ideology, irrespective of the actual content. Even so, genre boundaries are fluid and overlapping; they are not fixed, static entities, but are constantly changing and adapting because literature is constantly evolving. 4 During this evolutionary process, new genres may become dominant in a culture while other genres fall out of favor. The violation of genre restrictions produces a change in both function and ideology. Consequently, adherence, or lack thereof, to genre restrictions on the part of a writer has significant implications.

Recent Scholarship Recent scholars have written on the victory oracle. Van der Toorn investigates the victory oracle in Mari texts, Neo-Assyrian texts, and the Author’s note: I consider myself very fortunate to have been able to work with Dr. Greengus. He is not only an exceptional scholar but a fine man. 1.  K. van der Toorn, “L’oracle de victoire comme expression prophétique au Proche-Orient ancient,” RB 94 (1987) 67. 2. P. Harner, “The Salvation Oracle in Second Isaiah,” JBL 88 (1969) 422. 3.  Modern Genre Theory (ed. D. Duff; Harlow, England: Longman, 2000) 210. 4. M. de Jong Ellis, “Observations on Mesopotamian Oracles and Prophetic Texts: Literary and Historiographic Considerations,” JCS 41 (1989) 127–86.

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Bible. He focuses on the relationship between prophetic oracles of victory and analogous messages obtained by means of divination, the constitutive elements of the oracle, and its underlying ideology and propagandistic function. He expands Weippert’s thesis showing the promise of victory, divine presence in midst of battle and divine participation in battle are part of a propagandistic function of prophetic victory oracles. Van der Toorn also contrasts the roles of prophecy in Mesopotamia and Israel. 5 Harner compares the Neo-Assyrian victory oracle to select passages in Second Isaiah, highlighting the democratization process that occurred during the Babylonian sojourn. Harner argues that victory oracles originated in times of distress, were delivered in the temple in response to an individual’s lament, contain authentic references to a future victory, and may reflect the adaptation of an oracular form (with royal associations) in a democratizing theological shift. 6 Conrad identifies the structure of “Fear Not” oracles in Second Isaiah comparing them to oracles preserved in the Pentateuch and the Deuteronomistic History. He argues that Second Isaiah uses two separate literary forms, the War Oracle and the Patriarchal Oracle. 7 The possible structural elements of the first are (1) assurance, (2) object of fear, (3) basis of assurance, (4) a command, and (5) the result. The Patriarchal Oracle may include any, or all, of the following elements: (1) assurance, (2) address, (3) self-identification of the deity, (4) promise, (5) basis of assurance, (6) command, and (7) object of fear. Westermann identifies four broad types of salvation oracle. The first group is patterned after those in Second Isaiah that proclaim the coming of Cyrus to liberate God’s people. Group 2 includes short oracles consisting of two parts that are seldom expanded. They proclaim the destruction of Israel’s enemies and salvation for Israel. Group 3 includes conditional promises of salvation derived from Deuteronomistic parenesis. Group 4 consists of texts that combine the prophetic announcement of salvation with a motif of the piety of late wisdom literature. 8

Elements The Mari oracles survive in letters that report prophecies second hand. It is not always apparent whether the letters report the prophecy in its en5.  Van der Toorn, “L’oracle de victoire.” 6.  Harner, “Salvation Oracle.” 7.  E. G. Conrad, “The ‘Fear Not’ Oracles in Second Isaiah,” VT 34 (1984) 129–52. 8. C. Westermann, “Oracles of Salvation” in The Place Is Too Small for Us (ed. R. P. Gordon; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1995) 102–3.

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tirety, the extent to which they preserve the ipsissima verba, or how many disparate oracles any one letter references, thus hampering efforts to identify the constituent elements. 9 For these reasons, and limitations of space, I focus on the victory oracle in Assyria and Israel in this article. The oracles discussed are chosen based on formal and thematic criteria. Sennacherib (705–681 b.c.e.) elevated Nineveh to the status of As­ syria’s royal capital. Situated on the east bank of the Tigris River, it is one of four principle urban cities of the empire identified as the “four doorjambs” in SAA 9 3.5, along with Ashur (the Inner City), Calah, and Arbela. Each of these cities was also an important center for the cult of Ishtar. 10 Ashurbanipal chose Nineveh to host his royal library where archaeologists have recovered approximately 30 prophecies dating to the 7th century b.c.e. The prophecies were delivered by a variety of prophets and prophetesses on behalf of numerous Assyrian and Babylonian deities and address the political upheaval that plagued the reigns of these kings. 11 The prophecies are preserved in collections and on individual tablets facilitating identification of the constituent elements. An examination of these prophecies reveals that the victory oracle is the dominant literary form employed. Harner identifies the constituent elements as direct address to the recipient, encouragement formula, divine self-identification form­ ula, and promise of victory/defeat of enemies. These elements appear in varying order and may appear more than once. These prophecies typically address a member of the royal family, indicating the close association between the form and royal ideology in Assyria. 12 The dynastic victory oracle is closely related to the victory oracle. In addition to the elements identified by Harner, the form includes: (1) reference to special relationship between deity and king, (2) promise of a long tenure of office, (3) an allusion to past acts of deliverance, and (4) prophetic ascription. 13 9.  This in spite of the protest by Nur-Sîn, “Previously, when I was still residing in Mari, I would convey every word spoken by a prophet or a prophetess to my lord. Now, living in another land, would I not communicate to my lord what I hear and they tell me.” See text 1, “Nur- Sîn to Zimri-Lim,” (Text A. 1121 + A. 2731) in M. Nissinen, Prophets and Prophecy in the Ancient Near East (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003) 19. 10. S. Parpola, Assyrian Prophecies (SAA 9; Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 1997) 26 n. iii 20. 11.  R. R. Mack, Neo-Assyrian Prophecy and the Hebrew Bible: A Comparative Analysis (Ph.D. diss., Hebrew Union College, 2010) 70–71. For a discussion of the prophets and prophetesses, see Parpola Assyrian Prophecies, IL–LII. 12.  Harner, “Salvation Oracle,” 419. 13.  Mack, Neo-Assyrian Prophecy, 83–84.

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A survey of the elements as featured in a typical victory oracle will highlight them. SAA 9 1.1 (a) Direct address to the recipient Esarhaddon, king of the lands (b) Encouragement formula with supporting statements (2×) Fear not! What wind has risen against you whose wing I have not broken? Fear not! You are paralyzed, but in the midst of woe, I will rise and sit down (beside you). (c) Divine self-identification formula (3×) I am the Great Lady; I am Ishtar of Arbela I am Ishtar of Arbela I am Ishtar of Arbela (d) Promise of victory Your enemies will roll before your feet like apples I will flay your enemies and give them to you I will go before you and behind you

The above material does not provide the full text of this oracle, nor does it present the material in the order in which it appears. This presentation merely highlights key features of the form presently under discussion. The Hebrew Bible recounts the reception of victory oracles through inductive and noninductive means in narratives chronicling the history of the nation. 14 In addition to these oracles are those recorded in the Latter Prophets and the Writings. While the dating of these texts is highly problematic, identifying the changes in ideology of these prophecies is quite informative. I begin with select oracles from Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic History. Space does not allow for an exhaustive treatment of all the victory oracles in the Hebrew Bible.

Oracles Delivered by Prophets Yhwh sent Moses a victory oracle before the peoples’ encounter with Og, King of Bashan. Deuteronomy 3:2 / Numbers 21:34 (a) Encouragement formula “Do not fear (b) Object of fear him; 14.  For a discussion of the similarities between oracles of victory received through inductive and noninductive means, see van der Toorn, “L’oracle de victoire,” 68–69.

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Promise of victory for I have given him and all his people and his land into your hand, Implied command 15 and you shall do to him as you did to Sihon the king of the Amorites, who dwelt at Heshbon.”

We may assume Moses received this oracle at the tent of meeting, which he often frequented, but the text does not relate the circumstances by which the oracle was delivered. During the period of the judges, Deborah the prophetess delivered a victory oracle to Barak before he encountered Sisera in battle. Judges 4:6–7 (a) (b)

Explicit command/instructions “Go up to Mount Tabor and take with you ten thousand men of Naphtali and Zebulun Promise of victory I will lure Sisera, the commander of Jabin’s army, with his chariots and his troops to the Kishon River and give them into your hands.”

Featuring a command and promise of victory, this example showcases the victory oracle in its simplest form. Ben Hadad of Damascus attacked Samaria, threatening it with destruction. An unnamed prophet brings a victory oracle to Ahab. 1 Kings 20:13 (a) Divine self-identification formula/Messenger formula “Thus says Yhwh, (b) Promise of victory Have you seen this great multitude? Watch! I will give it into your hand today, (c) Result and you shall know that I am Yhwh.”

The use of the divine self-identification formula is atypical. Normally, the formula assures the addressee that the promise of victory is real. However, in this instance, it is the victory that will assure that Yhwh is real. 15.  The issue here is when to classify something as an implied command or a result. Not all commands/instructions are issued in the imperative. Because the focus is on what the Israelites are to do, I classify this element as an implied command, thereby distinguishing it from an explicit command (which employs an imperative) or a result. Support for this classification may be found in Josh 11:6, 9, “You shall hamstring their horses, and burn their chariots with fire. . . . Joshua did to them as Yhwh commanded him: he hamstrung their horses, and burned the chariots with fire.” The command in this case is implied.

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Oracles Delivered by Priests After an initial defeat at Ai precipitated by Achan’s sin, Yhwh sent Joshua a victory oracle. Joshua 8:1–2 (a) (b) (c) (d) (e)

Encouragement formula “Do not fear or be dismayed; Explicit command/instructions take all the fighting men with you and arise, go up to Ai; Promise of victory see, I have given into your hand the king of Ai, and his people, his city, and his land; Implied command you shall do to Ai and its king as you did to Jericho and its king; only its spoil and its cattle you shall take as booty for yourselves; Explicit command/instructions Lay an ambush against the city, behind it.”

The text reports that Yhwh responded to Joshua’s lament by instructing him to bring the Israelites before the sanctuary, where Achan is identified as the offending party. If we are to assume that the priest casting lots selected Achan, we may infer that the priest mediated all the messages received from Yhwh. In which case, a priest delivered the oracle following Joshua’s lament. While David was in exile in Ziklag, Amalekite raiders burned the city and took the women and children captive while the men were away. After consulting the ephod, Abiathar delivered a victory oracle advising David and his men to pursue the raiders. 1 Samuel 30:7–8 (a) Explicit command “Pursue (b) Promise of victory For surely you will overtake and shall surely rescue.”

Delivered in part in response to a lament, this basic oracle consists of a simple command and promise of victory. The picture changes when we turn to the latter prophets. The authors of these texts violate genre restrictions changing the ideology of the victory oracle. They also incorporate elements typical of dynastic victory oracles.

The Latter Prophets Harner follows Begrich and argues that Second Isaiah deliberately adopted the victory oracle to bring a message of encouragement to people languishing in exile. In this oracle, the addressee is Israel.

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Isaiah 41:8–13 (a) Addressee “But you, Israel . . . Jacob, (b) Special relationship my servant . . . whom I have chosen, the offspring of Abraham, my friend, you whom I took from the ends of the earth, and called from its farthest corners, saying to you, ‘You are my servant. I have chosen you and not cast you off.’ (c) Encouragement formula with supporting statements Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, (d) Divine self-identification formula for I am your God (e) Promise of victory I will strengthen you; I will help you; I will uphold you with my victorious right hand. (f) Result Yes, and all who are incensed against you shall be ashamed and disgraced; those who strive against you shall be as nothing and shall perish. You shall seek those who contend with you, but you shall not find them; those who war against you shall be as nothing at all. (d) Divine self-identification formula For I, Yhwh your God, (b) Special relationship I hold your right hand (g) Messenger formula It is I who say to you (c) Encouragement formula with supporting statements Do not fear, I will help you.”

It is readily apparent that this oracle is much more complex than are those preserved in the Deuteronomistic History. The focus on the special relationship between Yhwh and Israel parallels the relationship outlined in the Assyrian Dynastic Victory Oracles. However, while the Assyrian oracles focus on the special relationship between the deity and king, this oracle extends this special relationship to the people thereby undergoing what Nissinen refers to as a democratizing process. 16 The passage goes so far as to employ the royal designation “servant” in reference to the nation. Second Isaiah also refines the notion of victory, expanding it to the point where it does not simply predict victory in a battle, but Israel will enjoy peace without further 16. M. Nissinen, “Die Relevanz der neuassyrischen Prophetie für die alttestamentliche Forschung,” in Mesopotamica—Ugaritica—Biblica: Festchrift für Kurt Bergerhof (ed. M. Dietrich and O. Loretz; AOAT 232; Kevelaer: Butzon & Bercker, 1993) 235.

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battle because her enemies will be no more. 17 Similar developments occur in Isa 41:8–13, 14–16; 43:1–7; and 44:1–5. Nah 1:12–2:1[1:11–15] contains elements common to Assyrian victory oracles, but with minor variations. Nahum 1:12[1:11]–2:1[1:15] (a) Direct address “From you (Judah/Jerusalem) has departed one devising evil against Yhwh, one counseling wickedness. (b) Messenger formula Thus said Yhwh: (c) Promise of victory Though they are in full strength, and thus many, so they shall be sheared, and shall pass away. I have afflicted you (Judah/Jerusalem); I will afflict you no more. Now I will break his yoke (king of Assyria’s) from off you (Judah/Jerusalem), and I will sever your (Judah/ Jerusalem) bonds. Yhwh has commanded concerning you (king of Assyria), ‘Your (king of Assyria) name shall not be sown again; out of the house of your (king of Assyria) gods will I cut off the graven image and the molten image; I will prepare your (king of Assyria) grave; for you (king of Assyria) are cursed/contemptible.’ (d) Announcement Look! Upon the mountains a messenger that brings good news, one proclaiming peace! (e) Explicit command/instructions Keep your feasts, O Judah, perform your vows; for the wicked shall no more pass through you; he is utterly cut off.”

The entire unit addresses Judah/Jerusalem, though the oracle contains speech directed to both Judah/Jerusalem and the king of Assyria. The oracle differentiates by means of altering personal pronouns. The feminine second-person pronoun addresses Judah/Jerusalem (1:11–13; 2:1) and the masculine second-person pronoun (1:14) addresses the king of Assyria. The Assyrian king is also referred to by two Qal active participles (1:11) and the Hebrew word belial in 2:1. The messenger formula is the functional equivalent of the divine self-identification formula and identifies Yhwh as the source of the oracle (1:12). The message of victory promises deliverance from the king of Assyria and employs numerous Assyrian motifs. 18 Its concern is limited to the immediate threat posed by Nineveh. The announce17.  Harner, “Salvation Oracle,” 425. 18. G. Johnston, “Nahum’s Rhetorical Allusions to Neo-Assyrian Treaty Curses,” BSac 158 (2001) 415–36; “Nahum’s Rhetorical Allusions to Neo-Assyrian Conquest Metaphors,” BSac 159 (2002) 21–45.

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ment of a messenger proclaiming good news and peace is the functional equivalent of the encouragement formula; it serves to calm the anxiety of the recipient. The book of Zephaniah preserves a victory promise adhering to the Assyrian pattern. Zephaniah 3:14–20 (a) Explicit command/instructions “Sing aloud . . . shout . . . rejoice and exult with all your heart (b) Direct address O daughter of Zion . . . O Israel! . . . O daughter of Jerusalem! (c) Result Yhwh has taken away the judgments against you; he has cast out your enemies. The King of Israel, Yhwh, is in your midst; you shall fear evil no more. On that day, it shall be said to Jerusalem: (d) Encouragement formula with supporting statements ‘Fear not! . . . Let not your hands grow weak. (b) Direct address O Zion; (e) Special relationship Yhwh, your God, is in your midst, a warrior who gives victory; he will rejoice over you with gladness, he will renew you in his love; 19 he will exult over you with loud singing.’ (f) Promise of victory I will remove those grieved by the festival. They were a burden for you, a reproach. Behold, at that time I will deal with all your oppressors; I will save the lame and gather the outcast; I will make them praised and renowned in every land of their shame. At that time I will bring you home, at the time when I gather you together; yea, I will make you renowned and praised among all the peoples of the earth, when I restore your fortunes before your eyes, (g) Messenger formula says Yhwh.”

This oracle addresses a personified Jerusalem—“Daughter-Zion/Israel/ Daughter-Jerusalem”—which enjoys a special relationship with Yhwh, not the king. Yhwh’s activity on her behalf extends from the present into the future. He has removed her punishment and reproach, promises his ongoing presence, and promises her restoration. This victory oracle employs 19.  Following the LXX, Peshitta, njb, rsv, Buhl, S. R. Driver, Duhm, Hitzig, G. A. Smith, and R. Patterson in reading ‫ שדחי‬and accepting a consonantal change from ‫ ר‬to ‫( ד‬R. D. Patterson, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah [Wycliffe Exegetical Commentary; Chicago: Moody, 1991] 383–84).

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several utopian elements. The prophet foresees circumstances that will “fulfill the horizon of the best imaginable state of affairs within” Israel that “are perceived by them as unrealizable within their usual course of events.” 20 Only direct intervention by Yhwh will bring them to pass. It looks to a future point in which Zion is encouraged to rejoice because Yhwh will have removed her enemies and the judgments against her. The shame of the lame and outcast will be turned to praise and renown after he restores the remnant to their home. The people will be praised and renowned throughout the earth. Once again, the messenger formula serves as the functional equivalent of the divine self-identification formula.

Summary of Elements This brief review leads to a number of general observations. Both prophets and priests could deliver a victory oracle in Israel. After consulting the ephod and receiving a “yes” or “no” answer, the priest felt the freedom to frame the divine response as a victory oracle. When he did so, these oracles are relatively simple and straightforward. The preclassical prophets also deliver relatively simple victory oracles, the simplest of which con­ sisted of a command and promise of victory. We find the greatest expansion of the form in the Latter Prophets. The victory oracles in Second Isaiah, Nahum, and Zephaniah expand upon the form, incorporating elements associated with Assyrian dynastic victory oracles, specifically they depict the special relationship between Yhwh and his people and envision a time of peace when strife and conflict will cease. Additional elements found in these oracles, but not those in the Deuteronomistic History, include the following: recipient identified by name, the messenger formula, and the announcement. Victory oracles in the Hebrew Bible do not always contain the divine self-identification formula. However, this is not surprising when one considers that many of these oracles were delivered in response to an inquiry of Yhwh. In these instances, there is no need for the deity to identify himself. In Assyria and Mari, it is common to find the divine self-identification formula, but this is what one would expect when an unsolicited oracle is delivered in a polytheistic society. When the deity promises victory, it is natural for the king to want to know which deity had made the promise. 20. E. Ben Zvi, “Utopias, Multiple Utopias, and Why Utopias at All: The Social Roles of Utopian Visions in Prophetic Books within Their Historical Context,” in Utopia and Dystopia in Prophetic Literature (ed. E. Ben Zvi; Publications of the Finnish Exegetical Society 92; Helsinki: Finnish Exegetical Society, 2006) 56.

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This type of minor variation in content is what one would expect to find between different cultures. Tribal leaders received the victory oracle in pre-monarchic Israel. While we do not have any surviving examples from Babylon, Mari, and Assyria dating to respective pre-monarchic periods, we may assume that the same held true in these regions as well. As long as there have been leaders and diviners, we would expect leaders to seek divine assurances before battle. During the monarchy, kings and other members of the royal family received these assurances. These oracles were in response to a political threat, typically the danger posed by a foreign army or usurper. We only find victory oracles addressing the people at large in Israel. There is no way of determining whether this is attributable to the vagaries of archaeological discovery or whether it reflects an actual difference in the form between these cultures. Some victory oracles came in response to laments. This appears to be what happened in the case of Joshua (Josh 8:1–2) and David (1 Sam 30:7– 8). However, there is no suggestion of Moses, Barak, or Ahab receiving a victory oracle in response to a lament. From this, we may conclude that, while a priest may deliver a victory oracle in response to a lament, this is not the only occasion that may produce one. We turn now to the following question: who is responsible for the changes in form evidenced in the Latter Prophets?

Ideology The production of texts is an ideological activity. It is a means of representing reality either as it was, is, or should be. 21 In monarchic Israel, the palace and temple were part of one royal complex. Whether produced for the palace or temple, texts were produced under monarchic patronage and reflect monarchic concerns. 22 The victory oracles recovered from Mari and Assyria clearly reflect the interests of monarchic patrons. They address the king and promise victory against his enemies. Likewise, the victory oracles preserved in the Deuteronomistic History reflect monarchic patronage. The tribe of Judah is to lead the battle against Benjamin, supporting the royal ideal that the kingship would not depart from Judah (Judges 20). The oracles in 1 Samuel 23, 30, and 2 Samuel 5 address David, Israel’s ideal king; 1 Kings 20 addresses King Ahab of Israel. It was to the king’s advantage both 21. R. Chartier, On the Edge of the Cliff: History, Language, and Practices (trans. L. G. Cochrane; Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1997) 90–103. 22.  K. van der Toorn, Scribal Culture and the Making of the Hebrew Bible (Cambridge: Harvard University Press 2007) 82–89.

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to preserve and to disseminate these prophecies to garner the support of the military and populace for his endeavors. 23 However, the victory oracles in Second Isaiah, Nahum, and Zephaniah do not address members of the royal family, as is typical. The content of these oracles reflects a change in ideology. New ideologies emerge in response to social strain and attempts to provide meaning in a changing environment. When a community’s representation of reality has been challenged, one of the ways it responds to this loss of orientation is by producing new texts that aim to recenter its representation of reality—its ideology. Geertz observes that “[i]t is the loss of orientation that most directly gives rise to ideological activity” such as text formation and genre transformation. 24 Eagleton reminds us that “forms are historically determined by the kind of ‘content’ they have to embody; they are changed, transformed, broken down and revolutionized as that content itself changes.” 25 Therefore, one expects genre transformation to occur during times of social pressure when perceived norms of reality are threatened or questioned. These times of loss necessitate transforming cultural assumptions and aspirations. Old genres are modified to reflect new realities. On the establishment of the Israelite monarchy, the victory oracle became closely associated with the king who was responsible for leading the people into battle. 26 The surviving Mari and Assyrian records only attest victory oracles addressing members of the royal family. However, this is not surprising given that the extant oracles have all been recovered from royal archives. It seems likely that victory oracles were in use in these regions long before leaders took the title of king and began collecting archives. What is remarkable is that, in Israel, we find victory oracles that address the community at large. The people become the recipients of the privileges and special relationship previously enjoyed exclusively by the king. Harner, Begrich, and Nissinen highlight this development in Second Isaiah. A similar genre transformation occurs in Nahum and Zephaniah. The victory oracles in Second Isaiah, Nahum, and Zephaniah lack the features typical of monarchic patronage. How are we to account for this change? Four possibilities present themselves. Holladay attributes this shift to political changes that occur in the 8th century b.c.e. In this scenario, Israel 23.  Idem, “L’oracle de victoire,” 91–92. 24. C. Geertz, The Interpretation of Culture (New York: Basic Books, 1973) 219. 25. T. Eagleton, Marxism and Literary Criticism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1976) 22. 26. G. Gakuru, An Inner-Biblical Exegetical Study of the Davidic Covenant and the Dynastic Oracle (Mellen Biblical Press Series 58; Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen, 2000) 26–28.

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conceived the role of the prophet along the lines of the royal messenger and prophecy mirrored political correspondence. Biblical prophecy began addressing the population at large shortly after Assyrian letters and treaties did the same. 27 Therefore, it is possible that a royal patron with a high regard for the prophetic word preserved the prophecies irrespective of their content. Another possibility is that the king in Jerusalem was responsible for this shift in ideology as part of his strategy to solicit support. Houston outlines how select passages of Scripture present or preserve an ideal of kingship that exists to protect the poor. These passages displace exploitive behavior onto foreign nations and present an idealized ruler. Houston proposes that this was done to undermine the king’s rivals for power. 28 Might the king in Jerusalem have found it advantageous to extend royal prerogatives to the community as part of a strategy to strengthen political support? Another possibility is that these texts were produced at a time when the king lacked sufficient power to exercise control over text production. In this scenario, the king does not willingly surrender his prerogatives. We read in 2 Kgs 23:30 that the people of the land installed Jehoahaz as king on Josiah’s death. Jehoahaz reigned for three months before Pharaoh Neco deposed him. Houston argues that these “people of the land” are wealthy land­ owners. They are leading members of local communities who have opted to live in Jerusalem to avail themselves of its amenities and to gain political influence. 29 In this scenario, these prominent citizens exercise control over text production. The references to Judah/Jerusalem are in fact references to these people of the land. Could these texts be evidence of private citizens influencing text production at a time when the monarchy was weak? The fourth possibility is that these texts were produced after the collapse of the monarchy. The texts reflect new ideologies that emerged in the context of the social and ideological upheaval that occurred when 27. J. Holladay Jr., “Assyrian Statecraft and the Prophets of Israel” HTR 63 (1970) 29–51. Holladay’s theory raises questions that lie outside the scope of this paper. In the ancient Near East, prophecy was a branch of divination. If Holladay is correct, was Israel unique in conceiving the prophet/prophecy in terms of a royal messenger? Numerous texts appear to associate prophecy with divination (Isa 44:25; Jer 27:9; 29:8; Mic 3:7) while others condemn divination (Lev 19:26; Deut 18:10, 14; 1 Sam 15:23; 2 Kgs 17:17; 21:6; Isa 2:6). Do the latter group reflect a conscious effort to change how prophecy was conceived in Israel, divorcing it from the field of divination? Why is there no corresponding democratization in Assyrian prophecy? 28.  Cf. W. J. Houston, Contending for Justice: Ideologies and Theologies of Social Justice in the Hebrew Bible (New York: T. & T. Clark, 2006) 138–52. 29.  Houston, Contending for Justice, 28–40.

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Jerusalem fell to the Babylonians. This loss would have necessitated transforming cultural assumptions and aspirations. Old genres associated with the king, such as the victory oracle, would have been unsuitable to speak to a new political situation in which there was no king. A form of speech with royal associations would have to be modified in order to be relevant. Here we find a prophetic form normally addressed to the king addressed to the community instead. Because the palace and temple were the two institutions responsible for producing texts, it is possible that priests commissioned these texts.

Conclusions In its simplest form, the victory oracle consisted of a command and promise of victory. A priest may deliver it in response to a lament, or a prophet may deliver it unsolicited. It assured ancient Near Eastern kings of victory against their enemies in battle. The Latter Prophets take this form and adapt its ideology and content to serve a different purpose. Second Isaiah, Nahum, and Zephaniah employ it to redefine the nature of victory and extend royal privileges to the people at large as part of a democratizing process that takes place in the Hebrew Bible.

Zêru, “to Hate” as a Metaphor for Covenant Instability Andrew J. Riley Introduction In modern American discourse, hate is a bad word at times. The Ku Klux Klan and the Holocaust conjure hate-filled images. Although the semantic range of hate includes more innocuous uses of hate (for example, like that employed by children when they declare their hate for vegetables), the word still carries a connotation laden with negative emotion. In fact, due to various factors (including the realities of modern hate crimes), I feel I should not hate anything. Whether right or wrong, expressions of personal hate are mostly absent from my speech. The use of hate in the ancient Near East is different. Qoheleth says there is a time to hate (3:8). And the ancient use of hate includes more than human hate; the gods hate too. They hate each other, humans, wickedness, and more. But most important for the purposes of this study, Akkadian and Biblical Hebrew texts contain instances of hate (zêru and ‫ )ׂשׂנא‬that are ostensibly mostly (or totally) free of emotion. These sentiment-free examples (which provide the greatest contrast to modern American usage) are sometimes part of vocabulary occurring in covenant making or breaking contexts. This essay is a reflection on this nonemotive aspect of zêru, which CAD defines as “to dislike, to hate, to avoid.” 1 These definitions are a good Author’s note: It is an honor to salute Dr. Samuel Greengus by contributing to this Festschrift. I feel great affection for this fine Bible scholar, world class Assyriologist, patient teacher, and kind mentor. When I was a graduate student at Hebrew Union College– Jewish Institute of Religion, I found his classes valuable because of his direction and erudition. But they were pleasurable because of him—his disposition and company. He was funny, entertaining, and anecdotal. He put me and my colleagues in touch with the scholars of yesteryear: Jacobsen, Landsberger, Glueck, the Lewys, and more. I only wish I had more time in his classroom. The late David B. Weisberg, Sam Meier, Charles Halton, my anonymous reviewers, and the editors of this volume deserve my acknowledgement for providing helpful critiques to various versions of this essay. 1.  CAD Z 97–99; AHw 3:1522 adds ablehnen, “to reject.”

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starting point for semantic inquiry, but they are ultimately inadequate for capturing this lexeme’s metaphorical (that is, unemotional) connotation. 2 This term functions with this particular connotation primarily in covenant contexts and is a metaphor for unsound covenant ties. My purpose here is to underscore this metaphorical-covenantal nuance, confirming the work of others, but also to move beyond present scholarship by providing a matrix for interpreting zêru in this fashion. 3 To understand this nuance fully, my essay first addresses several studies on the semantic nuance of covenantal love. Explanation of the antithetic term of zêru then provides a framework for addressing the notion of hate in covenant contexts.

Love and Hate as Covenant Terms Moran’s groundbreaking article on the covenantal aspect of love shows that some interpreters misunderstand love in Deuteronomy. By marshaling examples of love from several ancient Near Eastern texts (including the Bible and letters from Mari and Amarna), he demonstrates that ‫אהב‬, râmu, and rāʾimūtu, “love,” between covenant partners is a metaphor for sound covenant ties. Moreover, Moran says there are four functions of love in covenant discourse: (1) allied kings (brothers) must love one another, (2) sovereigns are to love vassals, (3) vassals are to love sovereigns (demonstrated by loyalty, obedience, and service), and (4) subjects must love their king. 4 While love in this political/covenant context may possess emotion 2.  Throughout this paper, zêru may refer to the verb itself or related words (e.g., zērāti or zāʾiru). 3.  My theory of lexicography is based on several factors: a word’s literary context; a word in its literary context compared with other instances of the same word in other literary contexts and the polysemy this generates; the genre of the word’s host document; antonymy and synonymy; and synchrony and diachrony. Several sources influence this methodology: R. Jakobson, On Language (ed. L. R. Waugh and M. Monville-Burston; Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1990) especially ch. 1, “Current Issues of General Linguistics,” 49–55, and ch. 20, “Some Questions of Meaning,” 315–23; R. Holmstedt, “Issues in the Linguistic Analysis of a Dead Language, with Particular Reference to Ancient Hebrew,” Journal of Hebrew Scriptures 6 (2006) article 11, cited 8 August 2012. Online: http://www.jhsonline.org/Articles/article_61.pdf; J. Barr, The Semantics of Biblical Language (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1961); P. Cotterell, “Linguistics, Meaning, Semantics, and Discourse Analysis,” NIDOTTE 1:134–60; and J. H. Walton, “Principles for Productive Word Study,” NIDOTTE 1:161–71. Though some of these sources address biblical interpretation, their general principles and cautions apply (with some variation) to the nonbiblical documents featured in this study. 4.  W. L. Moran, “The Ancient Near Eastern Background of the Love of God in Deuteronomy,” CBQ 25 (1963) 77–87. While many of Moran’s examples of love are from the human realm, he argues the way love functions between humans has implications for Deuteronomy’s understanding of the love of God.

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(that is, the sentiment of love), feeling is not a primary (or even necessary) component. The primary tenor is metaphorical. In other words, “I love you” in a covenant context does not require the interpretation, “I feel positive emotion about you and as a result wish to be close to you.” On the contrary, it may mean, “I have a stable covenant relationship with you, but I really have no feeling toward you either way.” 5 The influence of Moran’s article is vast. Indeed, one often finds it cited favorably in the scholarship on love in biblical Hebrew or Akkadian from the mid-1960s to present. However, it generated a recent critique by Lapsley. She challenges some of his conclusions and maintains that there is more to ‫אהב‬, “love,” in Deuteronomy than emotionless obedience and loyalty—there is an emotive function of love also. Her article is relevant to this study because she provides a brief treatment of ‫ׂשׂנא‬, “to hate,” in which she notes, “Further attention ought to be given to the many occurrences of ‘hate’ (‫ )שנא‬in Deuteronomy, since from a cursory glance it appears that both emotional and political connotations apply here as well.” 6 Branson responded to Lapsley’s suggestion by writing on hate in Deuteronomy, elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible, and other Northwest Semitic texts. 7 He discloses in the article two cornerstones of his analysis: a pair of unpublished dissertations. The first (by Brice) is on human hatred and anger in the Old Testament; the second is his own on every appearance of ‫ ׂשנא‬in the Hebrew Bible. 8 Both Brice and Branson are unequivocal: ‫ ׂשנא‬in the Old Testament sometimes has a covenantal meaning. That is, ‫ ׂשנא‬can indicate the abrogation, breach, or lack of a covenant. This position supplies a parallel to the aforesaid Moran argument that love describes intact, 5.  In addition to mostly Akkadian documents, Moran supports his thesis with 1 Kgs 5:15, which notes that Hiram of Tyre was ‫אֹהֵב‬, “friend,” to David. In this case, ‫ אֹהֵב‬is more a reflection of David and Hiram’s covenant relationship than any positive emotion that may (or may not) have existed between them (ibid., 80–81). 6.  J. E. Lapsley, “Feeling Our Way: Love for God in Deuteronomy,” CBQ 65 (2003) 358 n. 32. B. T. Arnold is perhaps the most recent critic of Moran’s thesis (“The LoveFear Antimony in Deuteronomy 5–11,” VT 61 [2011] 551–69). While Arnold ultimately embraces Moran’s interpretation of love in Deuteronomy reflecting covenant fidelity, he maintains that “the political and covenantal nuances of ‘love,’” were “accepted at times uncritically in the scholarship” (pp. 558–59) and that the affective dimension of love has often been overlooked particularly in Deuteronomy 5–11. 7.  R. D. Branson, “The Polyvalent ‫ׂשנא‬: An Emotional, Performative, and Covenantal Term,” BR 51 (2007) 5–15. This article covers more covenant terms than ‫;ׂשנא‬ Branson also mentions (with relevant bibliography) ‫אהב‬, ‫ידע‬, and ‫טוב‬. 8.  G. W. Brice, A Study of Hatred and Anger in Old Testament Man (Ph.D. diss., Yale University, 1961) and R. D. Branson, A Study of the Hebrew Term ‫( ׂשנא‬Ph.D. diss., Boston University, 1976).

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healthy covenant relationships. Brice and Branson maintain ‫ ׂשנא‬characterizes unsound covenant ties. As for the Akkadian counterpart zêru, Jaques affirms that it operates with a similar nuance and indicates the abrogation or breach of a covenant. In a monograph on the vocabulary of feeling in Sumerian and Akkadian, she devotes several pages to zêru, to which she attaches a “legal feeling” in certain cases (some of which this study treats). 9 Her inspiration for this opinion is an earlier essay (which treats zêru in the Anzu Myth) by Hallo and Moran. They write, “Zêru usually implies the repudiation of a prior personal bond (individual, familial, political).” 10 It is important to note that Jaques, Hallo, and Moran apparently understand zêru’s legal sense to overshadow (but not necessarily remove) the negative emotional value of zêru.

Three Categories for the Metaphorical Nuance of Zêru It is against the collective backdrop of Moran, Lapsley, Branson, Jaques, and Hallo that this paper discusses several instances of human zêru, which are metaphors for covenant instability. 11 Just as love indicates a sound treaty bond (the covenant function of love), zêru indicates and serves as a metaphor for an unstable or shattered covenant union (the covenant function of zêru). Further, this study goes beyond CAD’s and AHw’s entries for zêru, because even though these dictionaries contain the instances that I enumerate below, they do not note zêru’s metaphorical nuance as discussed in this essay. 12 This study also moves beyond the works of Hallo, 9. M. Jaques, Le vocabulaire des sentiments dans les texts sumériens: Recherche sur le lexique sumériens et akkadien (ed. M. Dietrich and O. Loretz; AOAT 332; Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2006) 111–15, 147–61. 13) Although primarily treating ‫ ׂשנא‬in the Aramaic documents from Elephantine, Botta arrives at a an interpretation of zêru similar to Jaques, A. F. Botta, “Hated by the Gods and Your Spouse: Legal Use of ‫ ׂשנא‬in Elephantine and Its Ancient Near Eastern Context” in Law and Religion in the Eastern Mediterranean: From Antiquity to Early Islam (ed. R. G. Kratz and A. C. Hagedorn; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013) 105–28. 10.  W. W. Hallo and W. L. Moran, “The First Tablet of the SB Recension of the Anzu-Myth,” JCS 31 (1979) 68 n. 9. 11.  The host documents (the genres of which are letter, royal annals, law code, and divination text) span the ancient Near East with respect to region (Amarna to Babylon) and time (the entire second millennium into the first). These realities show that zêru’s metaphorical nuance was widespread. 12.  As partially stated in the introduction above, the zêru entry in CAD Z 97–99 provides the following definitions and headings: (1) to dislike, to hate, to avoid (a) in relations between human beings (1′) in legal texts and letters, (2′) in literary texts, (3′) in historical contexts, (b) in relations between gods and men, (c) in transferred meanings, (2.IV) to be disliked.

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Moran, and Jaques by providing a semantic matrix for zêru (absent from CAD and AHw) based on Moran’s aforesaid four functions of covenantal love. Three categories are employed here: (1) hate between royal or nonroyal equals, (2) hate from sovereign to vassal, and (3) hate from vassal to sovereign. 13 Because this study addresses emotional metaphors, considering Aaron’s model for interpreting figures of speech will be helpful. Aaron rejects the binary conceptualization for understanding metaphors. That is, when one encounters a metaphor in an ancient text, one need not decide if the analogy is either figurative or literal. Rather, the reader should employ a gra­ dient model. This allows for a spectrum of meaning into which the analogy fits. 14 My task as interpreter of zêru requires a gradient model because this word has its own continuum of meaning. On one end, it expresses intense negative emotion. The other end of the spectrum minimizes (or removes) this strong sentiment.

(1)  Hate between Royal or Nonroyal Equals Two letters of note under this rubric contain descriptions of hate between two kings (the first example) and between former allies (the second example). An anonymous king is the originator of RS 18.54A, the intended recipient of which is an unnamed king of Ugarit. This sender is ostensibly concerned about his relationship with Ugarit’s king, whom the author identifies as “my brother.” After introductory matters, the document states, “And now concerning the king of Ugari[t]—my brother hates me (ittiya zāʾir) and he does not send his messenger to me” (lines 7′–10′). 15 The function of zêru indicating covenant instability is present in this example. The sender identifies the king of Ugarit (the recipient) as “brother,” implying some sort of international bond. 16 This explains the writer’s incredulity at 13.  My third category (hate from vassal to sovereign) is symmetrical to Moran’s third and fourth categories (vassals must love sovereigns and subjects must love their king), because his third and fourth categories reflect the inferior’s stance toward the superior in a relationship.  14.  D. H. Aaron, Biblical Ambiguities: Metaphor, Semantics and Divine Imagery (ed. J. Neusner et al.; BRLAJ 4; Leiden: Brill, 2001). 15.  This translation follows the transcription of J. Nougayrol, Le palais royal d’Ugarit, vol. 4: Textes accadiens des archives sud (archives internationales) (Mission de Ras Shamra 9; Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1956) 228–29. 16. M. Liverani writes on brotherhood as a metaphor for covenant partners, Prestige and Interest: International Relations in the Near East ca. 1600–1100 b.c. (ed. F. M. Fales, G. B. Lanfranchi, and P. Piersimoni; History of the Ancient Near East Studies 1; Padova: Sargon, 1990) 197–202.

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the suspected zêru of Ugarit’s king. Because allied kings (brothers) have a bond, “love” should define their relationship. Thus, this study observes a covenant function of zêru vis-à-vis allied kings. A letter (SH 861) from the Shemshara (Šušarrā) archive portrays zêru among covenant partners, who do not have the status of king. Shamshi-Adad (1813–1781 b.c.e.) is the ostensible sender; Kuwari, ruler of Šušarrā, is the recipient. Shemshara was the administrative center for the land of Utûm, which was a part of a larger polity whose capital was probably Kunšum. Eidem argues that a crisis generated a shift in allegiance on Kuwari’s part from ties in Kunšum to Shamshi-Adad. 17 It is against this background that SH 861 is understood best: “Say to Kuwari: Your lord says, I hereby have sent 600 tr[oo]ps ⸢t⸣[o] gua⸢rd⸣ Šušarrā. Let the[se] troops enter Šušarr⸢ā⸣, and you come here to me. The citizens of Utûm hate (izirrū) the city Šušarrā. And you, you citizens of Kunšum who left Kunšum [(. . . . . .)], they hate you (izirrūkunūti). They are criminal and rebellious” (obv. lines 1–13). 18 This letter indicates that citizens of the larger district of Utûm hate Šušarrā and Kuwari. This is due to Kuwari’s and Šušarrā’s treachery to former allegiances that they had to the district of Utûm. Germane to this is the above-cited comment of both Hallo and Moran: “Zêru usually implies the repudiation of a prior personal bond (individual, familial, political).” 19 This point is especially relevant to SH 861 for it explains Utûm’s zêru: Kuwari and Šušarrā betrayed an allegiance. This is another case of zêru indicating an unsteady bond. Hence, this study notes a covenant function of zêru with respect to relations between non­royal equals. Because love should characterize relations between allied royalty, one can expect allied nonroyalty to love each other too.

(2)  Hate from Sovereign to Vassal The four instances of zêru in this category also appear on the international, political scene. They appear in Akkadian letters in which the author of the letter highlights the hate of the recipient, who is sovereign to the sender. For example, ARMT 1.2 is from the vassal Abi-Samar to his over17. J. Eidem, The Shemshāra Archives, vol. 2: The Administrative Texts (Historisk-­ filosofiske Skrifter 15; Copenhagen: Royal Danish Academy of Sciences and Letters, 1992) 17–18. See also J. Eidem and J. Læssøe, The Shemshara Archives, vol. 1: The Letters (Historisk-filosofiske Skrifter 23; Copenhagen: Royal Danish Academy of Sciences and Letters, 2001) 42–43. 18.  This translation follows the letter’s transcription in ibid., 93. 19.  Hallo and Moran, “The First Tablet of the SB Recension of the Anzu-Myth,” 68 n. 9.

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lord, Yahdun-Lim (ca. 1810–ca. 1794 b.c.e.), king of Mari. 20 Although the reason for the letter is not evident in the document itself, it may be related to the same scenario of ARMT 1.1, namely, Abi-Samar is still terrorized by Shamshi-Adad and needs the aid of Yahdun-Lim. 21 Abi-Samar writes in ARMT 1.2, “If you hat[e] (tezî[r]) Abi-Samar, do you also hate (tezîrm[a]) your ci[ti]es?” (obv. lines 7–8). 22 The Amarna texts (EA) of the Late Bronze Age furnish similar evidence. The vassal Aziru of Amurru wrote EA 158 to Tutu, who serves as Aziru’s representative to the king. Evidently, others in the royal court were maligning Aziru to the king within earshot of Tutu. When Aziru heard this, he was terrified. For much of this letter Aziru acknowledges his subordinate position to Tutu and requests that Tutu reprimand the slanderers. This culminates with the sum of all Aziru’s fears as he ends his letter, “But ⸢if⸣ the king, my lord, does not love me, but hates me (izeʾiranni), then what can I say?” (lines 36–38). 23 EA 286 presents a similar case in which another vassal is fighting to keep himself on good terms with the king. Abdi-Ḫeba is the author of this letter which serves two purposes. It is a defense against slander, for Abdi-Ḫeba informs the king three times that he has been maligned in the king’s presence, and it is a distress call for reinforcements. After spending several lines entreating the king and combating the vilification that has been brought against his name, he addresses the king’s commissioner(s), “Why do you lov[e] the ʿApiru but hate (tazaʾiarū) the may[ors]?” (lines 18–20). Rib-Addi is responsible for EA 126 which also has two objectives. First, he wrote it to ease his anxiety regarding his inability to send ships for the king’s service. The second objective (and the primary purpose of the document) is to request a battalion of troops—he twice notes his unfulfilled request for soldiers (lines  23–26, 38–40). This has perplexed Rib-Addi, “Why has the king given victuals to the mayors, my friends, but to me nothing?” (lines 14–18). The vassal’s suspicion is voiced toward the end 20.  On Abi-Samar’s status as vassal to Yahdun-Lim, see A. Finet, “Mari et le nord,” in Eretz Israel 24 (Malamat volume; ed. S. Aḥituv and B. A. Levine; Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1993) 66; J. D. Hawkins, “Karkamiš,” RlA 5:426; and E. Gerstenberger, “Covenant and Commandment,” JBL 84 (1965) 42. 21.  Finet, “Mari et le nord,” 66. 22. This translation follows the transcription of G. Dossin, Correspondance de Šamši-Addu et de ses fils (ARMT 1; Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1950) 24. 23.  The EA translations follow the transcriptions of S. Izre'el, “The Amarna Tablets,” n.p. [cited 11 Feb 2009]. On-line: http://www.tau.ac.il/humanities/semitic/amarna .html.

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of the letter, “If the king hates (za’ir) his ci[ty], then he should abandon it, but if me, ⸢then⸣ he should send me away” (lines 44–47). These four examples are significant because the sender in each letter is a vassal who is concerned about the hate of his suzerain (or in the case of EA 286, the king’s representative). This is noteworthy because Moran demonstrates that sovereigns are to love vassals in treaty relationships. This function of love is relevant to these four letters because each sender notes (with ostensible concern and fear) the hatred of the suzerain. Such fear and concern are understandable since each vassal expects the sovereign to love (and not hate) him. A superior failing to love his inferior arouses questions regarding the stability of their covenant relationship, and zêru is the appropriate term to express an unstable covenant union. Consequently, this study recognizes a covenant function of zêru with respect to ties between suzerain and vassal.

(3)  Hate from Vassal to Sovereign The documents under this heading use zêru in contexts in which insurrection is the overriding theme. For example, from the Old Babylonian period comes the so-called Bilingual Inscription B of Samsu-iluna (ca. 1749– 1711 b.c.e.). In this document he writes, “At that time, all the land of Sumer and Akkad, which hated me (izērūninni), in the course of a year, I defeated with arms eight times and turned the cities of my enemies (zaʾirīya) into ruins and mounds” (lines 39–49). 24 In this case, the author employs zêru to communicate the action of the vassal toward the sovereign. Sumer and Akkad hated (or rebelled against) the rule of Samsu-iluna. An Old Babylonian hepatoscopic text employs zêru in a similar fashion. It states, “[If the lo]be in the middle of the lung is normal, everything is normal. [If another] at the base of the top part of the lung [is divi]ded and its front faces the normal part, the land who hates (izîru) its [l]ord, its lord will stand over it” (lines 1–6). 25 This extispicy indicates a ruler can expect insurrection if the liver has certain physical characteristics. The Middle Assyrian king Shalmaneser I (1274–1244 b.c.e.) uses zêru in a related manner. The letter states, “Afterwards, the Qutu whose number no one knows ( just like the stars in the heavens), who are learned in murder, revolted against me, became hostile, and committed hateful acts 24.  This translation follows the transcription of E. Sollberger, “Samsu-Iluna’s Bilingual Inscription B Text of the Akkadian Version,” RA 61 (1967) 41. 25. This translation follows the transcription of J. Nougayrol, “Textes hépatoscopiques d’époque ancienne conserves au Musée du Louvre (II),” RA 40 (1945–46) 90.

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(zāʾerūti)” (rev.  col. 3, lines  8–11). 26 The Neo-Assyrian king Sargon II (721–705 b.c.e.) also has rebellion in mind when he records in his annals, “In my fifth regnal year, Pisiri of Carchemish transgressed the oaths of the great gods and sent hateful messages (zērāti) concerning the land of Ashur to Mita, king of Musku” (lines 72–73). 27 The scribe documents more hateful messages: one from Tarḫunazi of Meliddu to Mita (line 208), and another from King Azuri of Ashdod to neighboring kings (line 243). 28 As a result of Azuri’s disloyalty, Sargon replaced him with Aḫimiti on the throne of Ashdod, “I abolished his lordship and appointed Aḫimiti, his beloved brother, as king over them. But the Hittites, 29 planning treachery, hated (izērūma) his lordship and elevated over themselves Yadna, who had no right to the throne, who was like them, and who had no reverence for lordship” (lines 244–47). 30 Although separated by one-half millennium, both of these Assyrians understand zêru in the same sense: whether referring to “hateful acts,” “hateful messages,” or hatred toward the rule of a deputy, it communicates the seeds of rebellion against the sovereignty of a king/ruler. Zêru also appears in ancient law codes and possesses similarities to the aforesaid function of disloyalty. For example, section 30 of the Laws of Eshnunna (LE, dating from ca. 1900 b.c.e.) states, “If a man hated (izērma) his city and master and fled, and another then took his wife. When he has returned, he will have no claim to his wife.” 31 This statement begs the question what does it mean for a man to hate his city and ruler (or king)? Yaron argues on the basis of Old Assyrian evidence that the hateful man engaged in “subversive activities, directed against the ruler, hence by implication also against the patron deity.” 32 A similar example occurs in Codex Hammurapi, law 136, “If a man has deserted his city and fled, and afterwards his wife entered into the home 26.  This translation follows the transcription of D. D. Luckenbill, “Inscriptions of Early Assyrian Rulers,” AJSL 28 (1912) 188 and CAD Š/1 69. 27.  This translation follows the transcription of A. Fuchs, Die Inschriften Sargons II. aus Khorsabad (Göttingen: Cuvillier, 1994) 93. 28.  A. G. Lie labels Tarḫunazi’s and Azuri’s messages “perfidious,” The Inscriptions of Sargon II King of Assyria: part 1: The Annals (Paris: Librairie Orientaliste Paul Geuthner, 1929) 35, 41. 29.  Sargon uses “Hittites” as an invective, referring to the populace of Ashdod (J. D. Hawkins, “Ḫatti,” RlA 4:153–54; CAD Ḫ 151). 30.  Following the transcription of Fuchs, Die Inschriften Sargons II, 133. 31.  This translation follows the transcription of R. Yaron, The Laws of Eshnunna (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1988) 60. 32.  Ibid., 116.

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of another. Then if that man returns and takes his wife, because he hated (izēruma) his city and fled, the wife of the deserter will not return to her husband.” 33 As in the LE, a deserter hates his city and perhaps engaged in perfidy (following Yaron); consequently his wife is freed from her marital obligation to him should she wish to remarry. 34 Weinfeld’s approach to these two laws is slightly different, but still supports my general argument. He labels these examples cases of “high treason.” 35 The above occasions of zêru from royal inscriptions, a divination text, and law codes are also tinged with a covenant function, for many of them present a scenario in which subordinate people (or a person) express disloyalty to a sovereign, arguably the unforgivable sin of antiquity’s political world. Moran shows that vassals are to love sovereigns (demonstrated by loyalty, obedience, and service) and subjects must love their king. Hateful (rebellious, hostile) activities undermine and repudiate any covenant bond and zêru is the appropriate term to express this. Thus, this study notices a covenant function of zêru concerning ties between an inferior people (or person) and their superior.

Conclusion This survey treats a dozen Akkadian documents from various periods, locations, and genres. Their common thread is their utilization of zêru’s covenant function. In some way, zêru is a metaphor for and communicates an unstable or broken covenant. Perhaps the tie is between equals (for example, fellow kings), as in the first category. Or maybe the bond is between vassal and overlord, as in the second and third categories. This categorization provides symmetry to Moran’s four classifications of love in covenant discourse and adds considerable substance to the suggestions made by Hallo, Moran, and Jaques. This essay refers to Aaron’s spectrum of meaning model for interpreting metaphors and observes a spectrum for zêru, where one end is laden with negative emotion, and the other minimizes or removes negative sentiment. The examples of zêru treated above appear on the less emotional 33.  This translation follows the transcription of R. Borger, Babylonisch-assyrische Lesestücke (2nd ed.; AnOr 54; Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1979) 1:28. 34. A. Goetze, The Laws of Eshnunna (ed. F. W. Winnett; AASOR XXXI; New Haven: ASOR, 1956) 87. 35. M. Weinfeld, “High Treason in the Temple Scroll and in the Ancient Near Eastern Sources,” in Emanuel: Studies in Hebrew Bible, Septuagint, and Dead Sea Scrolls in Honor of Emanuel Tov (ed. S. M. Paul, R. A. Kraft, L. H. Schiffman, and W. W. Fields; VTSup 94; Leiden: Brill, 2003) 831.

Zêru, “to Hate” as a Metaphor for Covenant Instability

185

end, because zêru here is metaphorical for dubious covenant ties. While hate in this context may possess negative emotion (and likely does to a degree, especially in the cases of insurrection), sentiment is not a primary or necessary component. The connotation is metaphorical. “I hate you” in a covenant/political context does not require the interpretation, “I feel negative emotion concerning you and as a result wish for your demise.” It may mean, “I have neither a covenant relationship with you nor feelings toward you.” Finally, this continuum of meaning model accommodates scholars such as Lapsley and other detractors of Moran’s thesis. While they agree with some of Moran’s conclusions about the covenant value of love in Deuteronomy (and its metaphorical interpretation), they ostensibly want to slide love away from the metaphorical end of the spectrum toward the lit­eral, emotive end. The model presented herein leaves room for such fluidity.

With Mace in Hand . . . and Praise in Throat Comparisons and Contrasts in the Bookends of the Psalter Tim Undheim For the first half of the 20th century, preceding the advent of rhetorical and canonical criticism, Gunkel’s form critical categorization of Gattungen and Mowinckel’s attention to the cultic Sitz im Leben of individual psalms dominated scholarly study of the Psalter. An emerging paradigm over the last four decades reads the book of Psalms not as a mere anthology of ancient poems, but, because of both explicit and tacit editorial clues, as a cohesive poetic package deliberately contoured and canonically sequenced by the time of the Second Temple period to convey a unified message with a narrative impulse. 1 This study does not seek to add more to the increas­ ingly extensive discussion of this final form or how the primary message of the ultimate redactor(s) of the Psalter programmatically unfolds throughout the book. 2 Rather, it offers a few further parallels and contrasts beyond Author’s note: Where the making of manuscripts in our era far exceeds the maxim described in Qoh 12:12, and mastering them can breed weariness of the flesh, Samuel Greengus has modeled the scholar who indefatigably and passionately controls documents both ancient and modern. His love for students and their academic mentoring in Assyriological, Sumerological, and biblical studies has reminded many of the importance of tirelessly massaging the text to extract its contents. 1.  The sequential variations between MT Psalms 105–150 and the biblical portions of 11QPsa Cols 1–28 suggest the final form of the Hebrew corpus may be dated as late as the first century c.e. For the Qumran pattern, see The Psalms Scroll of Qumrân Cave 11 (11QPsa) (ed. J. A. Sanders; DJD 4; Oxford: Clarendon, 1965) 22–49, plates 4–17. 2.  Although the message of this corpus and its redaction is debated, the following in chronological order are select representations of this approach. J. P. Brennan, “Some Hidden Harmonies of the Fifth Book of Psalms” in Essays in Honor of Joseph P. Brennan (ed. R. F. McNamara; Rochester, NY: St. Bernard’s Seminary, 1976); B. S. Childs, “Reflections on the Modern Study of the Psalms,” in Magnalia Dei: The Mighty Acts of God. Essays on the Bible and Archaeology in Memory of G. Ernest Wright (ed. F. M. Cross, W. Lemke, and P. Miller; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1976) 377–88; J. Reindl, “Weisheitliche Bearbeitung von Psalmen,” in Congress Volume: Vienna, 1980 (ed. J. A. Amerton; Leiden: Brill, 1981) 350–56; G. Wilson, The Editing of the Hebrew Psalter (SBLDS 76; Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1985); J. C. McCann, A Theological Introduction to the Book of Psalms: The Psalms as Torah (Nashville: Abingdon, 1993); J. L. Mays,

187

188

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those already observed in the book’s beginning and ending, with primary attention on the conclusion. In this final part of the Psalter the dominant monarchic narrative voice which emerged powerfully at its beginning reemerges, heralding Yhwh as king, calling for annihilation of opponents of the kingdom, and summoning all humanity to offer unrestrained praise under the divine governance. 3

A Monarchical Motif in the Introduction: Canonical and Intertextual Parallels The striking lexemic and semantic commonalities between the opening chapters of the Neviʾim and the Ketuvim are well known (see table 1). Psalms (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1994); M. Millard, Die Komposition des Psalters: Ein formgeschichtlicher Ansatz (FAT 9; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1994); W.  Brueggemann, “Bounded by Obedience and Praise” in The Psalms and the Life of Faith (ed. P. D. Miller; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995) 189–213; N. de Claissé-Walford, Reading from the Beginning: The Shaping of the Hebrew Psalter (Macon: Mercer University Press, 1997); D. M. Howard, The Structure of Psalms 93–100 (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1997); D. C. Mitchell, The Message of the Psalter: An Eschatological Programme in the Book of Psalms (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1997); E. Zenger, “The God of Israel’s Reign over the World (Psalms 90–106),” in The God of Israel and the Nations: Studies in Isaiah and the Psalms (ed. N. Lohfink and E. Zenger; trans. E. R. Kalin; Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2000) 161–90; R. L. Cole, The Shape and Message of Book III (Psalms 73–89) (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000); J. A. Grant, The King as Exemplar: The Function of Deuteronomy’s Kingship Law in the Shaping of the Book of Psalms (SBLABS 17; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2004); S. Gillingham, “The Zion Tradition and the Editing of the Hebrew Psalter,” in Temple and Worship in Biblical Israel (ed. J. Day; London: T. & T. Clark, 2007) 308–41; R. E. Wallace, The Narrative Effect of Book IV of the Hebrew Psalter (Studies in Biblical Literature 112; New York: Peter Lang, 2007); H. Koorevaar, “The Psalter as a Structured Theological Story with the Aid of Subscripts and Superscripts,” in The Composition of the Book of Psalms (ed. E. Zenger; Walepole, MA: Uitgeveru Peeters, 2010) 579–92; J. C. Crutchfield, Psalms in Their Context: An Interpretation of Psalms 107–118 (Paternoster Biblical Monographs; Milton Keynes: Paternoster, 2011). 3.  Because of the significant eschatological flavor of the conclusion and arguably of the second psalm, this essay entertains a messianic-eschatological reading of the bookends, a normative psalmic emphasis begun in Second Temple era commentary for the entire Psalter, continued until the 19th century, and resumed more recently by Childs, et al. It adopts in general an integrated reading of Psalms 1–2, argued in 2002 by Cole (R. Cole, “An Integrated Reading of Psalms 1 and 2,” JSOT 98 [2002] 75–88), an interpretation that equates the righteous person of Psalm 1 and the anointed ruler of Psalm 2. Given the literary inclusios gracing many of the psalms and other pages of the Hebrew Bible, primary attention is on the extent that a messianic-eschatological reading reemerges in the Psalter’s conclusion, a pericope less studied than the introduction but plainly essential to refine the overall rhetoric of the entire book.

Comparisons and Contrasts in the Bookends of the Psalter

189

Table 1.  Opening Common Chords Reference

Terms

Ps 1:2; Josh 1:7, 8 ‫תורה‬ Ps 1:2; Josh 1:8 ‫הגה יומם ולילה‬ Ps 1:3; Josh 1:8 ‫צלח‬ Ps 1:1; ‫ישב ב‬, ‫עמד‬, ‫לא הלך‬ Josh 1:8 ‫ימין‬. . . ‫אל סור‬ ‫ושמאול‬ Ps 1:6; ‫דרך רשעים אבד‬ Josh 1:18 . . . ‫איש אשר מרה‬ ‫מות‬

Glosses instruction meditating day and night succeed not walk, stand, sit in not turn . . . right or left The way of the wicked perishes One who rebels . . . dies

Almost certainly a process of editorial engineering at these strategic junctures, the juxtaposition of these common features appears nowhere else in the Tanakh. Read narratively, the conscious shapers and sequencers of the Psalter intended the book to be read meditatively as nothing less than God’s instruction, and certainly on par with the Torah and Neviʾim. 4 If Psalm 1 indeed functioned as the introduction to the remainder of the Psalter, the rewards of commitment to a life of Torah and the recompense of those who distance themselves from its blessing might be the lens through which the book may be viewed. However, Psalm 1–2’s departure from the typical pattern of Psalmic superscriptions, especially when contrasted to the subsequent seven psalms, suggests the chapters function as an independent reading unit. 5 The following layout illustrates further the lexemic and semantic parallels, buttressing this notion (see table 2). In addition to these tabular comparisons, another macro structural tie further strengthens the notion of a redacted unity. The verb ‫ שכל‬is common to both Josh 1:7–8 and Ps 2:10. The employment of the root is significant because Joshua 1 and Psalm 1 begin respectively the Neviʾim and the Ketuvim. 6 The word ‫ שכל‬in the first context charges Joshua, the new leader 4.  Although not voicing these macro structural observations, McCann advocates the Psalter was shaped fundamentally as teaching for the reader. McCann, A Theological Introduction to the Book of Psalms, 18–20. 5.  Additionally, the presence of headings in all but the first two psalms in the LXX suggests there was an early tradition which regarded them as the introduction to the Psalter. The first two psalms in their final edited form seemingly were crafted to be read as the preface. 6. G. Barbiero, Das erste Psalmenbuch als Einheit: Eine synchrone Analyse von Psalm 1–41 (ÖBS 16; Frankfurt: Europäischer Verlag der Wissenschaften, 1999) 34;

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Table 2.  Lexemic and Semantic Parallels in Psalm 1 and 2 Reference 1:1; 2:12 1:1; 2:4 1:1; 2:4 1:2; 2:1 1:2; 2:7 1:3; 2:6 1:5; 2:2 1:6; 2:12

Term(s) ‫אשרי‬ ‫יׁשב‬ ‫ לעג‬,‫לץ; שחק‬ ‫הגה‬ ‫הגה בתורת יהוה‬ ‫ספר אל חק יהוה‬ ‫שתל על; נסך על‬ ‫ על‬. . . ‫ ב; יצב‬. . . ‫קום‬ ‫( דרך‬with) ‫אבד‬

Respective Glosses happiness sit (with scoffers); sit (and mock) scoffer; laugh, mock meditate; devise meditate in the instruction of Yhwh tell “of ” the law of Yhwh plant by; install ona stand in; stand against perishing way; perishing (in) the way

a.  I include the final example, suggested by Cole, only on the basis of the LXX rendition, using the lemma καθίστημι, “to set, place,” for the semantically problematic ‫נסכתי‬, “I have poured out.” Cole, “An Integrated Reading of Psalms 1 and 2,” 76. The expression ‫ ׁשתל‬in Ps 1:3 evokes imagery of ancient Near Eastern representations of kings as trees. Cf. for example BM 96706 II:1: Šu[l-gi] lugal en-ša[g] ggišimmar e-šu du[g]-a, “Šulgi, the king, the graceful lord, is a date-palm planted by the water-ditch.” I. Engnell, Studies in Divine Kingship in the Ancient Near East (2nd ed.; Oxford: Blackwell, 1967) 28; originally published by C. J. Gadd in CT 36 (London: British Museum, 1921) 26–27. Compare also Ezek 17:1–12.

of the migrating tribes, to Torah living as the recipe for success. In Ps 2:10, the root ‫ שכל‬enjoins even God defying potentates to act wisely. Intertextual criticism has confirmed the redactional relationship between the openings of the Neviʾim and Ketuvim and portions of the Torah. The insights of André, and others following her, serve to link the persistent Torah commitment of the contented individual of Psalm 1 and that of the leader of Joshua 2 together, highlighted in both the Shemaʿ (Deut 6:4–9) and the so-called Kingship Law of Deut 17:14–20. 7 The following table displays those parallels (see table 3). Another intertextual component may be seen in the prohibition of turning ‫ימין וׂשמאול‬, “to the right or left”—in Josh 1:7 from ‫התורה‬, “instruction” and in Deut 17:20 from ‫המצוה‬, “the commandment.” Just as the ideal king (and perhaps idealized ruler in historical retrospect) depicted in Deuteronomy was commissioned to a daily perusal of God’s instruction, so also was the leader of the migrating Israelite tribes in Joshua 1. In addition to relentlessly embracing ‫תורה‬, the other significant unifying link, here between the Kingship Law of Deuteronomy, the commissioning of Joshua, and the introduction to the Psalter, is national leadership. Cole, “An Integrated Reading of Psalms 1 and 2,” 78 n. 8. Cole also adds the lexeme ‫נחל‬ (inherit), present in the verb ‫ תנחיל‬in Josh 1:6 and the suffixed noun ‫ נחלתך‬in Ps 2:6. 7. G. André, “‘Walk,’ ‘Stand,’ and ‘Sit’ in Psalm I 1–2,” VT 30 (1982) 327.

Comparisons and Contrasts in the Bookends of the Psalter

191

Table 3.  Instruction, Frequency, and Mood:  Interfacing Deuteronomy 6; 17; Joshua 1; and Psalm 1 Reference Deut 6:6–7

Deut 17:18–19

Term(s): Instruction and Frequency

Mood

. . . ‫ והיו הדברים האלה‬Directive ‫על־לבבך‬ . . . ‫ בשבתך‬. . . ‫ושננתם‬ ‫ובלכתך‬ ‫והיתה‬. . .‫ התורה הזאת‬Directive ‫עמו‬ ‫והיה כשבתו על כסא‬ ‫וקרא בו כל־ימי חייו‬

Josh 1:8

Ps 1:1–2

‫ לא ימוש ספר התורה‬Directive ‫הזאת מפיך‬ ‫והגית בו יומם ולילה‬ ‫ בתורת יהוה חפצו‬Declarative ‫לא ישב‬. . .‫לא הלך‬. . . ‫ובתורתו יהגה יומם‬ ‫ולילה‬

Glosses And these words shall be . . . upon your heart. And you shall repeat them . . . whenever you sit . . . and walk . . . this instruction. . . and it shall be with him. And when he sits upon (his) throne. . . And he shall read in it all the days of his life. The book of this instruction shall not cease from your mouth But you shall meditate in it day and night. In the instruction of Yhwh is his delight, He has not walked . . . nor sat; (rather) . . . in his instruction he meditates day and night.

The term ‫ מלך‬appears three times in Psalm 2, further binding together the first two psalms. Furthermore, accumulating horses—the military panoply in the Kingship Law—appears in related terminology in Joshua 1: ‫חמוש‬, “armed,” and ‫גבורי החיל‬, “warriors.” In their context and read as a unit, the first two psalms deliver messages quite different from when taken as autonomous poems. Read independently, the ‫ איש‬and, alternatively, the ‫ צדיק‬in the first chapter, putatively describes the generic individual in the community who, eschewing a life of evil and its ephemerality, embraces a lifelong commitment to divine instruction with its attendant well-founded happiness and prosperity. Conversely, the ‫רשע‬, and alternatively the ‫ חטא‬or ‫לץ‬, the anonymous enemies of the community, perish. Yet, when read in its broader context, the ‫ איש‬of this poem possesses leadership characteristics similar to those expected of the new commander of the tribes of Israel in Joshua 1 and, significantly, the anointed king of Psalm 2. 8 8.  Cole, “ An Integrated Reading of Psalms 1 and 2,” 75–88.

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Combined, these leadership attributes underscore the motif of the national ruler of ancient Israel inserted in the introduction to both the Neviʾim and Ketuvim and so highlight a monarch who persistently embraces ‫תורה‬ as a means of successful governance, even to the point of controlling potentates hostile to the nation. The redactor(s) of these passages transformed the ‫ איש‬of Psalm 1 into what Cole calls a new “Joshua-like” monarch, whose lifelong passion for divine instruction assures nothing less than vanquishing the enemies of the community, the ‫( רשעים‬wicked) who frame the psalm. 9 This guarantee prompts the question fronting Psalm 2, why, in contrast to the ruler’s wholesome meditation of 1:2, the nations and their leaders (paralleling the ‫ רשעים‬of Psalm 1) should be able to ponder emptily (also ‫)הגה‬, resisting (‫יצב‬, Ps 2:2, as in Josh 1:5) Yhwh and the anointed king. The promise of judgment detailed in Ps 1:5–6 is reaffirmed in 2:6–12, which further assures military success (also alluded to in Ps 1:3a) against the community. In 2:6–12, however, the subjugators are Yhwh and the commissioned king. 10 The identity of the ‫ איש‬of Psalm 1, identified by the redactors as the ‫משיח‬, “anointed,” of Psalm 2, becomes explicit when observing intertextual connections and the surrounding context of Book 1 beginning with Psalm 3. The verb ‫ משח‬appears in 1 Sam 9:16 and 10:1 in reference to the selection of a ruler for ancient Israel. Although this verb does not appear in 2 Samuel 7, it is the coronation terminology of this pericope that links most satisfactorily with the second psalm. It is noteworthy that messianic interpretive tradition as early as the Second Temple period aligned portions of both 2 Samuel 7 and Psalm 2 in near proximity to each other. 11 Perhaps most similar in the two is the father-son description of Yhwh and child (Ps 2:7b) and David and progeny-to-be (2 Sam 7:14). Nathan’s portrayal of the vanquishing of David’s enemies (2 Sam 7:9) and the shattering of the nations (Ps 2:8–9) produces further echoes. Because both David and Solomon frame so-called Books 1–2 of the Psalter, Koorevaar regards as historical illusions the rejection of Absalom (Psalm 3) and the acceptance of Solomon (Psalm 72) as David’s successor, the answer to David’s prayers (Ps 72:20). 12

A Monarchical Motif in the Conclusion The monarch motif, evident in the introduction to the Psalter, poses the question of its appearance at the end of the book. Embattled throughout 9.  For the use of this phrase, see ibid., 75, 78, 83, 88. 10.  Ibid., 78–80. 11.  Both the Qumran sectarian and the New Testament Christian communities commented on them in close context. Compare 4Q174 and Heb 1:5. 12.  Koorevaar, “The Psalter as a Structured Theological Story,” 581.

Comparisons and Contrasts in the Bookends of the Psalter

193

the interior, does the ruler emerge at the conclusion with any of the flavor as that of the book’s beginning? Scaiola appropriately observes the end of the Psalter has not generated the vast attention given to the introduction and its programmatic effect on the rest of the book. 13 Certainly, the way a literary work ends affects the reading of the entire book. But, what precisely are the literary boundaries of the conclusion? Most modern scholars agree that the blessing of the divine name, ‫ברוך יהוה‬, “Blessed be Yhwh,” its perpetuation containing the term ‫עולם‬, “a long time,” and the affirmation of truth, ‫אמן‬, are later editorial marks tacitly forming endpoints to the book divisions (compare 41:14[13]; 72:18–19; 89:53; 106:48). 14 Fewer concur on the closing bracket of Book 5, but 145:21 in fact contains the blessing, plausibly as an injunctive ‫ויברך‬, “and may x bless y,” as well as the perpetuation ‫עולם‬, lacking only ‫אמן‬. This, combined with the imperatives ‫ הללו־יה‬beginning and ending Psalms 146–50 (appearing earlier only in 106, 113, and 135), buttressed by the numerical accord of the five books and five end units, suggests the final five psalms of the book constitute its ending. Furthermore, the volitive phrase ‫ויברך כל־בשר שם קדשו‬, “And may all flesh bless his holy name,” in 145:21b aptly introduces Psalms 146–50 and anticipates the Psalter’s conclusion in Psalm 150: ‫כל הנשמה תהלל יה‬, “Let every(thing having) breath praise Yah.” 15 When compared with Psalms 1–2, the final chapters of the Psalter, 146– 50, yield interesting observations. Similarities between these outside frames are present, and not surprisingly so, given the abundance of symmetry and beginning-end inclusio in biblical poetry. For example, identical word mirroring, several of which appear only in the Psalter’s introduction and conclusion, appear in the following phrases tabulated in table 4. Each pair is associated with verbs of semantic similarity and contrast. 16 The perceptive 13. D. Scaiola, “The End of the Psalter,” in The Composition of the Book of Psalms, 701. Recent attention to this pericope has been made by K. Cha, Psalms 146–150: The Final Hallelujah Psalms as a Fivefold Doxology to the Hebrew Psalter (Ph.D. diss., Baylor University, 2006); and S. So Kun Ahn, I Salmi 146–150 come conclusione del Salterio (Ph.D. diss., Pontifical Biblical Institute, 2008). 14. P. Sanders, “Five Book of Psalms?” in The Composition of the Book of Psalms, 677–78. 15. E. Zenger, “‘Daß alles Fleisch den Namen seiner Heiligung segne’ (Ps 145:21): Die Komposition Ps 145–150 als Anstoß zu einer christlich-jüdischen Psalmenhermeneutik,” BZ 41 (1997) 14; idem “‘Durch den Mund eines Weisen werde das Loblied gesprochen’ (Sir 15,10): Weisheitstheologie im Finale des Psalters. Ps 146–150,” in Auf den Spuren der schriftgelehrten Weisen: Festschrift für Johannes Marböck (ed. I. Fischer, U. Rapp, J. Schiller; BZAW 331; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2003) 154–55. 16.  Brennan has observed and commented on portions of these similarities. J. P. Brennan, “Psalms 1–8: Some Hidden Harmonies,” BTB 10 (1980) 26.

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Table 4.  Word Mirroring in the Psalter’s Introduction and Conclusion Grammatical Function Terms Reference and Verbal Mood ‫דרך‬ ‫רשעים‬

1:6 subject of declarative ‫תאבד‬ 146:9 object of declarative ‫יעות‬

‫מלכי־‬ ‫ארץ‬

‫לאמים‬

‫ברזל‬

‫שפטי‬ ‫ארץ‬

Glosses

Verbal Semantic Frequency Relationship in Psalms

the way of the related wicked perishes he twists the way of the wicked

here only

2:2 subject of declarative ‫ על‬. . . ‫יתיצבו‬ 148:11–13 subject of directive ‫יהללו‬

the kings of the earth resist let the kings of the earth . . . praise

contrastive

here and 3 other locations

2:1 subject of declarative ‫יהגו־ריק‬ 148:11–13 subject of directive ‫יהללו‬

peoples ponder contrastive emptiness let the peoples praise

here and 7 other locations

smash with a rod of iron

related

here and 3 other locations

related

here only

2:9 genetive of object of preposition with directive ‫תרעם‬ 149:8 genetive of object of preposition with construct infinitive ‫לאסר‬ 2:10 subject of directive ‫הוסרו‬ 148:11–13 subject of directive ‫יהללו‬

to bind with shackles of iron

accept discipline O rulers of the earth let the rulers of the earth . . . praise

reader can readily see the motif of kingship is not only attested in the introduction to the Psalter, but as those who resist Yhwh reap their recompense, this institution emerges likewise in its conclusion as divine dominion. The question may be posed, to what degree does the personage of the ‫משיח‬, “the anointed” of Yhwh introduced in Ps 2:2 (and by extension the Torah observant individual of Psalm 1) play a role in the final chapters? Furthermore, to what extent does obeisance to Torah emerge in the bookend? Wilson maintains the declaration ‫תהלת יהוה ידבר־פי‬, “The praise of Yhwh my mouth shall declare” (Ps 145:21a), an editorial superscription to

Comparisons and Contrasts in the Bookends of the Psalter

195

be the affirmation of David (Ps 145:1), places the voice of Israel’s monarch and recipient of the divine promises of the Davidic covenant in the book’s conclusion. 17 Read this way, the ensuing text, ‫אל־תבטחו בנדיבים בבן־אדם‬ ‫שאין לו תשועה‬, “Do not trust in nobility, in mere humanity who is incapable of saving” (Ps 146:3), and the immediately following alternative—the trustworthiness of the Creator capable of restoring any needy member of the community (146:5–9a)—portrays David as prostrate before the true eternal King, Yhwh (146:10). 18 The introductory tone of the book surfaces in several words in 146:3. The regal term ‫נדיב‬, “noble,” carries the broader semantic sense ‫מלך‬, “king,” (Ps 2:6). 19 Furthermore, its parallel positioning with ‫בן‬, “son,” in v. 3, followed by the phrase ‫ דרך רשעים‬attested only immediately following in 146:9 and in 1:6, draws attention back to Ps 2:7, where the newly installed ‫ מלך‬of 2:6 (and ultimately his successors) is addressed ‫בני‬, “my son.” Through an extended inclusio, the once commissioned ruler (Ps 2:6–7), who in history had rescued Israel from her enemies (for example, 2 Sam 3:18), is now reduced to humble acknowledgement that Yhwh alone is Savior of the afflicted (146:7–9). In the words of Mays, “The exile set its seal on their [the kings’] ultimate inability.” 20 However, Israel can now find consolation in the reflection that, just as the ‫דרך רשעים‬, “way of the wicked,” who took a stand against her Torah-abiding king in Psalm 1–2 perished, so now the eternal Potentate King vows to twist that of her opponents (146:9). Psalm 147 continues the Davidic narrator’s description of Yhwh’s greatness and capacity to provide, only here extending the sphere of provision beyond needy humanity to beasts and fowl (v. 9). Verse 10 resumes by interjecting the word ‫סוס‬, “horse,” a member of the animal world mentioned in v. 9. Straddling the center of the psalm, immediately preceding the second of two pivotal references to Jerusalem and Yhwh, vv. 10–11 draw in concepts appearing elsewhere in the Tanakh. The assertions of the submissive monarch: ‫לא בגבורת הסוס יחפץ‬, “[Yhwh] does not delight in the strength of the horse” and ‫רוצה יהוה את־יראיו‬, “Yhwh desires those who fear him” are intertextual allusions to the Kingship Law of Deut 17:14– 20 where the true Israelite king is admonished not to rely on an amassed military (‫לא־ירבה־לו סוסים‬, “He shall not accumulate for himself horses”). 17.  Wilson, The Editing of the Hebrew Psalter, 226. 18.  Ibid., 227. 19.  The two terms, ‫ מלך‬and ‫נדב‬, are juxtaposed in semantic parallelism in Job 34:18. 20.  Mays, Psalms, 440. Although Mays sees in v. 3 Israel potentially reflecting on its leaders, he does not raise the possibility of an intertextual link with Ps 2:7.

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Rather, through interaction with ‫“ תורה‬instruction” (as describes the lifelong practice of the contented individual of Psalm 1, who becomes the anointed king of Psalm 2), Israel’s ruler was ‫ליראה‬, “to reverence,” the divine (Deut 17:19). Somewhat conspicuous here in Psalm 147, however, as well as the entirety of the Psalter from Psalm 120 to its conclusion, is the absence of the mention of adhering to ‫תורה‬, a significant component of the introduction to the Psalter. 21 Escalating in tempo and addressees, the finite king speaking in Psalm 148 summons all creation—angelic, inanimate, beast, and all humanity (which includes ‫מלכי־ארץ‬, “kings of the earth,” ‫לאמים‬, “peoples,” and ‫שפטי ארץ‬, “rulers of the earth”—groups introduced in Psalm 2) to render praise to Yhwh. However, not until Psalm 149 does the reader view again in almost identical terminology the retribution meted out against the opponents of Yhwh and the anointed king introduced first in Psalm 2, known in Psalm 1 as the ‫רשעים‬, “wicked.” Only here in 149:5–9 there is a dramatic character role reversal. It is not the ‫משיח‬, the anointed king, who as in Psalm 2, Yhwh commissioned to bring to submission the wicked sovereigns of the earth. Nor is it the all-capable Yhwh who assumes this battle role so typical of Israel’s deity. 22 Rather, the now-offstage Davidic ruler enjoins the ‫חסידים‬, “faithful” of Yhwh’s community to replicate his now-­terminated duties of rendering vengeance with honor against ‫גוים‬, “nations,” ‫לאמים‬, “peoples,” and ‫מלכיהם‬, “their kings,” doing so ‫בכבלי ברזל‬, “with fetters of iron,” all while praising their Creator. 23 Yhwh, on the other hand, the Davidic speaker urges the faithful to laud as King. 21.  Only in Ps 132:12 does a synonym for ‫ תורה‬appear, ‫“ עדות‬testimony.” 22.  Cf., for example, Exod 14:13; Josh 6:1–21; 2 Chr 20:1–27. Allen argues that Yhwh is in fact the implied subject of the infinitives in vv. 7–9, citing Judg 11:36 and Ezek 25:17 where it is Yhwh who is the executor of vengeance (‫)עשה נקמה‬. The retributive action of the infinitives then serves as the basis for the praise of Yah in v. 9b. Allen then renders the infinitives in the passive voice: “with a view to vengeance being carried out . . . to their kings being manacled with chains . . . to the written judgment being carried out.” L. Allen, Psalms 101–150 (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2002) 396, 400. 23. Following ‫ בגוים‬in the preceding colon of 149:7, I read ‫ֻּמים‬ ִ ‫“ ּב ְַלא‬against the peoples,” following ἐν τοῖς λαοῖς of the LXX rather than ‫ֻּמים‬ ִ ‫ ּבַל־א‬of the MT. The ambiguity as to the subject of the infinitives of vv. 7–9 is best seen as the ‫חסידים‬, the nearest antecedent. The reason for praise in this psalm resides in v. 4—Yhwh’s pleasure with his people. Also viewing the ‫ חסידים‬as the subject of these infinitives is E. S. Gerstenberger, Psalms, Part 2, and Lamentations (FOTL 15; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001) 454–55. Emphasizing also a link with Ps 2:9–12 are Mays, Psalms, 448; C. J. A. Vos, Theopoetry of the Psalms (New York: T. & T. Clark, 2005) 75; and J. C. McCann Jr., “Psalms,” in Theological Interpretation of the Old Testament: A Book-by-Book Survey (ed. K. J. Vanhoozer; Grand Rapids: Baker, 2008) 164–65.

Comparisons and Contrasts in the Bookends of the Psalter

197

Table 5.  Happiness, Honor, and Obeisance in the Psalter’s Introduction and Conclusion Terms ‫אשרי‬

Reference

Actor(s)

Glosses

How happy is the person who . . . has not walked, stood, or sat in those who submit to the king How happy are all who take refuge in God the faithful of Yhwh who Honor for all the faithful of God subdue the nations that resist Yhwh rulers of the earth subdued Worship Yhwh by the anointed king rulers and all people of the Let (them) praise the name of earth subdued by the faithful Yhwh of Yhwh

1:1 (the king)

‫אשרי‬

2:12

‫הדר‬

149:9

‫עבד‬

2:11

‫הלל‬

148:11, 13

Further evidence of the relationship between the beginning and end of the Psalter may be seen in Ps 145:17, in the appearance of the adjectives ‫צדיק‬, “righteous,” and ‫חסיד‬, “faithful.” Juxtaposed in parallel relationship immediately preceding the Psalter’s conclusion, they form David’s affirmation ‫ צדיק יהוה בכל־דרכיו‬/ ‫וחסיד בכל־מעשיו‬, “Righteous is Yhwh in all his ways / and faithful in all his deeds.” It is noteworthy that two of the terms in this verse, ‫צדיק‬, “righteous,” and ‫דרך‬, “way,” appear elsewhere together in the Psalter only in 1:6. The synonymous equation of these terms of otherwise different semantic domains, in addition to the entire psalm in which they originally found their place, may have been positioned deliberately at the end of Book 5 to prepare the reader for the coming role switch from the ‫צדיק‬, the righteous and content Joshua-like (and later Davidic) figure of Psalm 1–2, to the ‫חסיד‬, the “faithful” of the praising community of Yhwh in the conclusion. Yhwh’s intimate protection of the way of the righteous (Ps 1:6) illustrates the divine demonstration of righteousness in all deeds (Ps 145:17). The idealized vanquishing of Yhwh’s foes by the anointed king with their subsequent submission in Ps 2:9–12, and the same achievement by the faithful of Yhwh in Ps 149:7–9 yield respectively ‫אשר‬, “happiness,” (Ps 1:1; 2:12) and ‫הדר‬, “honor,” (Ps 149:9). As in Ps 2:10, the revolting nations (the wicked of ch. 1), crushed by the Davidic king (2:9), are enjoined to worship (‫ )עבד‬Yhwh (2:11), so the same in 148:11 and 13, are charged to praise (‫ )הלל‬the divine name, yet are subdued by the faithful of Yhwh (149:5–9). 24 24. See Mays, Psalms, 448 for this observation in Psalms 148–49.

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Table 5 illustrates these comparisons. Placing this shift of character role in plausible historical dimension, McCann pictures in Psalm 2 a monarchy whose commission was to effect God’s will on earth. With the failure of kingship, the subsequent exile, and no remaining institution to enact order, God entrusted the faithful with the responsibility of rendering ‫משפט‬, “justice,” against tyrants. 25 Given the commonalities between Psalms 2 and 149, one might expect parallel features between the Torah hymn prefacing the introduction and the anthem of unrestrained praise punctuating the conclusion. As mentioned previously, nowhere in the conclusion to the Psalter does the word ‫תורה‬, “instruction,” appear. Yet, one may opine the anointed David of the second psalm, who, by way of redactional juxtaposition becomes the fulfilled Torah abiding ruler of the first Psalm, maintains a significant role in the grand finale. The words ‫נבל‬, ‫כנור‬, ‫תף‬, and ‫( צלצלים‬Ps 150:3–5, musical instruments in ancient Israel) draw the reader back to 2 Sam 6:5—King David’s and Israel’s exuberant dance before the ark following his routing of the Philistines from Geba to Gezer. As a group, these terms only appear in 2 Sam 6:5 and Ps 150:3–5, an intertextual allusion to eschatological victory generated praise just following the anticipated demise of Yhwh’s opponents at the hands of the faithful in 149:5–9. 26 Israel’s Torah controlled ruler of the Psalter’s introduction, solidly rooted and stably committed to righteousness, reemerges at the end of the journey as the now spontaneous animated musician, leading all creation in extravagant praise to the king of the new order, Yhwh. 27

Conclusion The conclusion of the Psalter, spanned by imagery resembling that of the book’s introduction and the deuteronomic Kingship Law which putatively shaped the corpus, reverberates with kingship. However, it does so with an eschatological motif and Davidic militancy and exultation of the divine Potentate reminiscent of Psalm 2. The final chapters of the Psalter, however, add another dimension, offering encouragement to a community in postexilic disarray and in need of a consoling messianic message of hope. 25.  McCann, “Psalms,” 164–65. See also Mays, Psalms, 49. 26.  The more common terms ‫ שופר‬and ‫( תרועה‬Ps 150:5) appear also at the resumption of the dance (2 Sam 6:15), following the three-month stay of the ark of the covenant in the house of Obed-edom. 27.  I draw these contrasts, albeit in a modified interpretative framework, from Brueggemann, “Bounded by Obedience and Praise,” 210–13.

Comparisons and Contrasts in the Bookends of the Psalter

199

Form criticism has shed new light on each individual psalm to good initial results. Yet, a myopic focus on the more constricted psalmic components and boundaries has missed completely the larger flow of rhetoric across the entirety of the corpus. This study has found significant linguistic and structural devices at work, especially at the beginning and end of the book, that provide probative evidence for a more unified approach to the Psalter. The metonymic use of David for messianic confidence, apparent in both the introduction and conclusion to the Psalter, suggests that what is true for the bookends might be considered as operating for the whole as well. It may not generally be advisable to read a book by its covers, but in some cases, it could lead to a better understanding of its contents.

Do Deities Deceive? Ronald A. Veenker The heavens are the heavens of Yahweh, But the earth he has designated for the Sons of Adam. Ps 115:16e There is, perhaps, no more familiar literature in the Hebrew Bible than the story of Paradise, the Garden of Eden. Though completely familiar to millions through the centuries, understanding all of its enigmas is quite another matter. These narratives are complex, layered and puzzling to all who approach them. The exchanges between God and Adam, Eve and the serpent reveal deep narrative tension regarding the human condition and the nature of God. When these exchanges are set in their proper context with the final verses of Genesis 3, the result is quite surprising. Let us take another look at the conversation between God and Adam: ‫ויצו יהוה אלהים על האדם לאמר מכל עץ־הגן אכל תאכל׃ ומעץ הדעת טוב ורע‬ ‫לא תאכל ממנו כי ביום אכלך ממנו מות תמות׃‬ And the Lord God commanded the man, saying, “Of every tree of the garden you are free to eat; but as for the tree of knowledge of good and bad, you must not eat of it; for as soon as you eat of it, you shall die.” (Gen 2:16–17 jpsv)

Yahweh instructs Adam regarding what he may choose but sternly warns him that eating from the specified forbidden tree will result in death. 1 Author’s note: It is a great honor and a genuine pleasure to contribute to this volume dedicated to our esteemed professor Samuel Greengus. He is the consummate mentor, complete scholar, and true friend. Each of us who was privileged to work under his guidance realizes the great gift we were given. 1.  ‫ ביום אכלך ממנו‬literally translated is “on the (very) day you eat of it.” The use of the prepositions bet or kaf with the infinitive construct, as we have here, simply means “when” (B. K. Waltke and M. O’Connor, An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax [Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1990] 604–5). While it need not mean within a literal 24hour period, it clearly means “sooner” rather than “later” in this context. J. Walton in his commentary on Genesis (Genesis [NIVAC; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2001] 174–75) argues that the use of the infinitive absolute plus the finite form of the verb mwt does not necessitate an immediate execution of the sentence “you will surely die.” Its time is

201

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Ronald A. Veenker

Shortly thereafter, Eve encounters the serpent. He asks her for clarification on what it was that Yahweh had told her husband about eating in the garden. She told him that they were free to eat of all the trees save one. She went on: ‫ומפרי העץ אשר בתוך־הגן אמר אלהים לא תאכלו ממנו ולא תגעו בו פן־תמתון׃‬ It is only about fruit of the tree in the middle of the garden that God said, “You shall not eat of it or touch it, lest you die.” (Gen 3:3 jpsv)

Clearly, the woman had spoken to her husband about his conversation with Yahweh. While she pondered just what such news might mean, the serpent himself added new information: ‫ויאמר הנחש אל־האשה לא־מות תמתון׃ כי ידע אלהים כי ביום אכלכם ממנו‬ ‫ונפקחו עיניכם והייתם כאלהים ידעי טוב ורע׃‬ And the serpent said to the woman, “You are not going to die as soon as you eat of it, but God knows that as a result your eyes will be opened and you will be like divine beings knowing good and bad.” (Gen 3:4–5) 2 undetermined, open to the (perhaps distant) future. For a textual analog he refers us to Jer 26:1–11 where angry citizens of Judah insist that the prophet “will surely die” but no precise time for his demise is found in the passage. He says, “When they say ‘You will surely die’ they are talking about the eventual outcome of the behavior. . . .The resulting paraphrase of Gen 2:17 then would be ‘When you eat of it, you will be sentenced to death, and therefore doomed to die.’” While Walton focuses primarily on the importance of the infinitive/finite verb construction, I argue that the temporal clause plays a most significant role in my reading of 2:17. My textual analogy employs both the very important temporal clause (“When you eat,” ‫ )כי ביום אכלך‬and the infinitive/finite verb construction (“you shall surely die,” ‫)מות תמות‬. In 1 Kings 2, Solomon is seeking justice against his late father’s enemies and sentences a man named Shimei to house arrest in Jerusalem saying, “For on the day you go out, and cross the Wadi Kidron, know for certain that you shall die” (‫;והיה ביום צאתך ועברת את־נחל קדרון ידע תדע כי מות תמות‬ v. 37). Shimei complies, but three years later, he leaves his house and, on hearing the news, the king calls him in and confronts him: “Did I not make you swear by the Lord, and solemnly adjure you, saying, ‘Know for certain that on the day you go out and go to any place whatever, you shall die’?” (‫הלוא השבעתיך ביהוה ואעד בך לאמר ביום צאתך‬ ‫ ;והלכת אנה ואנה ידע תדע כי מות תמות‬v. 42). Whereupon Solomon acted: “Then the king commanded Benaiah son of Jehoiada; and he went out and struck him down, and he died.” Both of these verses from 1 Kings 2 contain the temporal clause and the infinitive/ finite verb construction just as we find in Gen 2:17, “When you eat of it you shall die.” (See also J. Barr, The Garden of Eden and the Hope of Immortality [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993] 10.) For this reason, I find here a stronger analogy. While there is scholarly support for both readings, the one I have chosen becomes the lectio difficilior, the more difficult, because the burden for explaining the significance of an unfulfilled swift death sentence is mine. 2.  My paraphrase. Walton in his commentary (Genesis, 204–5) calls attention to

Do Deities Deceive?

203

So the world’s first humans, though they reside in paradise, are wrestling with a very thorny issue. It is not easy to elicit the original tension from this story because everyone knows it forward and backward. The woman, impressed with the serpent’s side of the story, found the fruit most attractive, so she partook and her husband did likewise. After enjoying the forbidden fruit, they learned something about themselves; they were noticeably naked and felt a strong need for clothing. Right now the reader is looking for a resolution to the tension in the story: will they die or not? But rather than deal with this issue, the author introduces intervening business. God comes to visit, finds things not at all to his satisfaction (vv. 8–13) and metes out seven punishments to the three parties involved (vv. 14–19). Then Adam gives his wife a name and God gives the couple their first wardrobe (vv.  20–21). As yet they have not died—so far, so good. Life has some new difficulties to overcome, but they’re still alive. At long last, we receive the resolution we’ve been waiting for: ‫ויאמר יהוה אלהים הן האדם היה כאחד ממנו לדעת טוב ורע ועתה פנ־ישלח ידו‬ ‫ולקח גם מעץ החיים ואכל וחי לעלם׃‬ Then the Lord God said, “Behold, the man has become like one of us, knowing good and evil; and now, lest he put forth his hand and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live forever—” (Gen 3:22, rsv)

What an interesting turn of events! The serpent’s words proved correct. Not only do the humans now possess wisdom like gods but also they did not die in the process. How very odd. What are we to make of God’s statement in 2:17? Is there deception or an unfulfilled warning here? 3 the rare placement of the negative particle in relation to the infinitive absolute and the finite verb in v. 3 (only three examples are cited by Joüon §123.o and GKC §113.v). If the negative particle precedes both verb forms, it has the effect of negating the absolute infinitive as well, that is, it negates the inevitability of the action. I have not read another commentator who has addressed this rare grammatical phenomenon. Translations such as “You are certainly not going to die!” (J. Charlesworth, The Good and Evil Serpent: How a Universal Symbol Became Christianized [ABRL; New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2010] 299) do not take this syntax into consideration but simply negate the finite verbal form. “The idea would be something like ‘Don’t think of death as such an immediate threat’” (Walton, Genesis, 205). While they did not die immediately that was not to say that they would never die. After all, the Yahwist knows the outcome of his story and the serpent is his “voice of wisdom.” It would not do at all to portray this wise speaker presenting false promises, for the audience may also know that they did eventually die. Note that Walton’s understanding of vv. 2:17 and 3:4 allows the felicity of having both God and the Serpent speaking truth without conflict. 3.  For similar issues and the one discussed here, see J. J. M. Roberts, “Does God

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While many take exception to this reading of the text, insisting that God would not/did not lie, the history of its exegesis shows otherwise. 4 Throughout the centuries many interpretations have been offered for the words “you shall surely die” from labeling it “hyperbole” to insisting that it was fulfilled in a kind of “spiritual death.” 5 On the meaning of the phrase in question, J. Barr wrote: Mortals know that they will die, eventually; what they do not want is to die now, or in the near future. Such warnings make sense only if the punishment for disobedience is speedy. . . . None of us will be deterred from evil doing if we are told that “if you do this, you will be a dead man a hundred years from now.” Since Adam lived on . . . to the age of 930 years . . . to say that his death at the end of this very long life . . . fulfilled the warning that he would die “in the day” of his eating the forbidden fruit cannot be taken seriously. The warning was one of speedy punishment. But this necessarily means that the threatened punishment was not carried out. 6

Many questions remain. One can only wonder at such a story being told from ancient times about Yahweh, the God of the Israelites. 7 The theme of a deceptive deity immediately brings to mind another ancient Near Eastern story about gaining wisdom and losing the possibility of immortality. In the first few lines of the myth “Adapa and the South Wind” 8 Lie? Divine Deceit as a Theological Problem in Israelite Prophetic Literature,” in The Bible and the Ancient Near East: Collected Essays (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2002) 124, 128–29. Also instructive is R. Patterson, “The Old Testament Use of an Archetype: The Trickster,” JETS 42 (1999) 385–94. 4.  For a short review, see C. Westermann, Genesis 1–11: A Commentary (trans. J. J. Scullion; Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1984) 240. Also “Not only does the serpent not lie, God is depicted narratively as failing to speak the full truth. This insight clashes with the affirmation in the Bible that there is only one God and he is trustworthy and faithful; he is the God of truth. . . . Yet biblical theology does not ring with the affirmation that God is always truthful,” Charlesworth, The Good and Evil Serpent, 316. 5.  See U. Cassuto, A Commentary on the Book of Genesis (Part I): From Adam to Noah (trans. I. Abrahams; Jerusalem: Magnes, 1961) 124–25. 6. J. Barr, Garden of Eden, 10–11. Further, R. W. L. Moberly, “Did the Serpent Get It Right?” JTS 39 (1988) 1–27, argues against Barr in favor of a “spiritual/metaphorical” death for Adam and Eve. The debate continued in J. Barr, “Is God a Liar? (Genesis 2–3) and Related Matters,” JTS 57 (2006) 1–22; followed by R. W. L. Moberly’s response, “Did the Interpreters Get It Right? Genesis 2–3 Reconsidered,” JTS 59 (2008) 22–40. See also R. P. Gordon, “The Ethics of Eden: Truth-Telling in Genesis 2–3,” in Ethical and Unethical in the Old Testament: God and Humans in Dialogue (ed. K. Dell; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 2010) 12–14. Regarding the 930-year life span of Adam, see L. Bailey, Noah: The Person and The Story in History and Tradition (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1989) 120–26. 7. See Charlesworth, The Good and Evil Serpent, 307–11. 8.  Translation: B. Foster, Before the Muses I (Bethesda, MD: CDL, 1993) 429–34;

Do Deities Deceive?

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we are told that Ea (Enki), the god of wisdom and lord of the sweet water, gave the gift of wisdom to Adapa, a human, the very gift Yahweh withheld: 4′. a-na(!) šú-a-tú né-me-qa iddiššu (SUM-šú) napišta (ZI-tam) da-rí-tam ul iddiššu (SUM-šú) To him he gave wisdom, he did not give him eternal life. 9

Both narratives tell of humans who are presented with the possibility of obtaining one or both divine characteristics. In the Akkadian myth, we find Adapa, a man who found favor with Ea, the deity for whom he works hard every day. It is Adapa’s responsibility to keep the machinery of the Ea cult operating smoothly in Eridu. This involves the baking of cakes and the catching of fish. One day, while Adapa was in his fishing boat, the South Wind capsized him threatening his life. Employing the wisdom and magic that he had received from his master Ea, he uttered a curse and broke the wing of the South Wind rendering it helpless. When seven days had passed with no southerly breeze, Anu the sky god inquired and was informed what Adapa had done. Adapa was summoned to Anu’s court to answer charges, but before making that journey his lord Ea took him aside and presented him with a plan so that Adapa might save his life. Ea warned him that he would be offered “the food and water of death” and to be careful to take neither. But when offered a garment he was to put it on and when offered oil he was to anoint himself. While in heaven, he obeyed Ea’s instructions to the letter. When Anu accepted Adapa’s plea of self-defense, the sky god offered him food and drink, which he declined, but he put on the garment and anointed himself with oil. Incredulous laughter broke out in the court for it turned out that he was indeed offered food and drink which would have rendered him immortal. “Come Adapa,” cried Anu, “why did you not eat or drink? Hence you shall not live! Alas for inferior humanity!” 10 It turned out that the bread and water were truly life giving, so Adapa, like Adam and Eve, missed his opportunity for divine greatness and perhaps even lost it for all humanity. S. Dalley, Myths from Mesopotamia (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989) 182–88. Text edition and literature: S. Izre'el, Adapa and the South Wind: Language Has the Power of Life and Death (MC 10; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2001). 9.  Ibid., 9–10. 10.  Fragment B, 67′–68′, ibid., 21, 31–32. He reads with M. E. Vogelzang, “Patterns Introducing Direct Speech in Akkadian Literary Texts,” JCS 42 (1990) 60, da-a-l[a?-t] i, “small, inferior” CAD D 52. Though no clear reading is possible, the writer prefers that of Foster, Muses I, 433: da-a-[ra]-ti, “Are people not to be im[mor]tal?”even though Foster himself says that his restoration is “highly doubtful” (p. 434).

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While there are many interesting and significant features to be compared in these two narratives, the point we make here is that both protagonists overstepped proper boundaries and offended their gods: Adam by eating of the tree of knowledge and Adapa by breaking the South Wind’s wing. Ironically, Adam suffered his loss by transgressing Yahweh’s command, while Adapa lost out by remaining faithful and following his god’s instructions explicitly. Even more fascinating and perplexing is the fact that in both stories the gods seem to have dealt deceptively with favored humans, both of whom seemed chosen for greatness from the beginning. And both of these deities are notorious advocates for the human race. What could possibly be the reason for their surprising duplicity? 11 I suggest that it is for the purpose of dramatically underscoring a single idea, which is foundational to both stories (as well as several other Near Eastern myths): Gods alone inhabit the heavenly spheres. This is the single brute fact of Near Eastern cosmogony that can neither be denied nor compromised. Just how important is it? The two deities most known for their kindness toward humanity would even lie to keep the boundary between heaven and earth inviolate. Humans were created to inhabit middle earth. Any alteration of this scheme, any crossing of the zone between the two regions will most assuredly result in chaos and destabilization of the universe. The clearest and most instructive example of this idea is found in a rather unlikely source: the Hurrian Kumarbi Cycle. Remarkably, because very little of the Hurrian lexicon and grammar is known to us, this myth 11.  “This story . . . appeals to us most in its simplicity of substance and the possibilities it offers for broad interpretations still consonant with its language” (B. Foster, “Wisdom and the Gods in Ancient Mesopotamia,” Or 43 [1974] 353). It is not surprising that there exist dozens of interpretations of the myth. Before the appearance of S. Izre'el’s Adapa and the South Wind, the standard text edition was S. Picchioni, Il Palmetto di Adapa (Budapest: Ethos Loran Tudományegyetem, 1981). Picchioni surveys the literature on the role of Ea (57–62) by dividing the opinions into four categories: Ea’s (a) beneficent nature (natura benefice), where Anu tricks Adapa, not Ea; (b) insidious nature (natura subdola), Ea deceives Adapa; (c) fallible (natura fallibile); and (d) enigmatic nature (natura enigmatical). While it would be impractical to survey each of the categories fully, we observe that, in 1981, by Picchioni’s account category a referenced 9 scholars, category b, 12, category c, 7, and category d, 5. Even though Picchioni placed B. Foster in category c based on his “Wisdom and the Gods” article, Foster clearly places himself in category b: “Anu was vastly amused by Ea’s cleverness and his sage’s stupidity, and so sent the swindled mortal back home” (Foster, Before the Muses, 429). Of course, the story exists in too sketchy an outline to be completely unambiguous (S. Dalley, Myths, 183). We join Izre'el, and many others, who understand Ea to have deceived Adapa (Izre'el, Adapa, 120) not only on the basis of a reading of the myth itself, but also because of its thematic resemblance to the biblical story we are dealing with here (ibid.,126–27).

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would be inaccessible were it not for the Hittite’s having preserved a rather sizable corpus of Hurrian texts. 12 Our focus here will be on the last in a series of five narratives, which comprise the Kumarbi Cycle, the “Song of Ullikummi.” 13 This entire cycle is based on a common Near Eastern libretto known as “Rebellion in Heaven” in which (1) younger gods plot to overthrow their elders, the old ruling deities in heaven. (2) They stage their attack from earth, (3) enlisting or creating monsters for the battle; (4) the attack is launched and after one or more battles, the elder deities crush the rebellion restoring appropriate order. But “in addition to the usual four-fold pattern . . . there is a fifth element in the Song of Ullikummi which concerns the relation between heaven and earth: Originally bound together as one, the gods separated the earth from the heavens to make a proper universe.” 14 It is this unique theme in the Kumarbi version of the rebellion in heaven narrative that will be most helpful in understanding the significance of untruthful deities. Ullikummi is the last of four creatures that Kumarbi, the rebel deity, created in order to vanquish Tessub, the reigning weather god. Ullikummi is a basalt pillar that was created through sexual union between Kumarbi and a (female) rock cliff. He has been placed on the right shoulder of Ubelluri, the Hurrian Atlas, which will provide him a platform from which to advance toward heaven. Realizing that he is under attack, Tessub strikes out against Ullikummi but loses the first round. Tessub then seeks the aid of Ea, lord of wisdom. Ea discovers the secret of Ullikummi’s strength: he has established a firm foothold on Ubelluri’s right shoulder. 15 Ea addresses Ubelluri, asking whether he is aware of the rock pillar resting on his shoulder. §61 (A iii 40–44). Ubelluri spoke to Ea, “When they built heaven and earth upon me, I was aware of nothing. And when they came and cut the heaven and earth apart with a copper cutting tool, I was even unaware of that. But now something makes my right shoulder hurt, and I don’t know who this god is.” 16 12.  The Kumarbi Cycle alone is comprised of several compositions each providing its own piece of the story: the Song of Kumarbi, the Song of the God Lamma, the Song of Silver, the Song of Hedammu, and the Song of Ullikummi, the telling of whose story requires three tablets. G. Beckman, “Hittite and Hurrian Epic,” in A Companion to Ancient Epic (ed. J. Foley; Oxford: Blackwell, 2005) 258–61. 13.  H. Hoffner Jr., Hittite Myths (ed. G. Beckman; 2nd ed.; SBLWAW 2; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1998) 40–80. 14.  P. Hanson, “Rebellion in Heaven, Azazel, and Euhemeristic Heroes in 1 Enoch 6–11,” JBL 96 (1977) 205, emphasis mine. 15. Hoffner, Hittite Myths, 55–56; Beckman, Hittite and Hurrian Epic, 261. 16. Hoffner, Hittite Myths, 64.

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Upon hearing these words, Ea walked around to view Ubelluri’s right shoulder and there, securely affixed, was Ullikummi. §63 (A iii 48–55). Ea spoke to the . . . Gods, “Hear my words, O Primeval Gods, who know the primeval words. Open again the old, fatherly, grandfatherly storehouses. Let them bring forth the seal of the primeval fathers and with it reseal them. Let them bring forth the primeval copper cutting tool with which they cut apart heaven and earth. We will cut off Ullikummi, the Basalt, under his feet, him whom Kumarbi raised against the gods as a supplanter (of Tessub).” 17

Ea has now made it possible for Tessub to do battle with Ullikummi and emerge victorious. 18 Indeed, the act of cutting asunder heaven and earth with the primeval copper cutting tool is a foundational part of the ancient Near Eastern view of the cosmos and its creation. In their creative act of establishing the order of the universe, the gods severed earth and heaven intending this to be a permanent separation of the two spheres with clearly established boundaries. The rebel Kumarbi reconnected them through the monstrous basalt pillar, Ullikummi. Therefore, the seals on the storehouse of the gods had to be broken and once again the primeval copper cutting tool had to be brought out to cut asunder this unholy connection. Ullikummi’s linking of heaven and earth is an affront to all that is holy and right and a reminder to all generations that this decision is not open to amendment. 19 17. Ibid. 18.  Ibid., 56. 19.  Even though we know this story only from Hurrian archives (preserved by Hittite scribes), it is not at all unlikely that this myth of separation and others like it were known widely in Mesopotamia and the Levant. Hurrian poetry has been found in school texts from El Amarna in Egypt, in Ugarit and Boghazköy [Ḫattuša] (N.  B. Jankowska, “Assure, Mitanni, and Arrapkhe,” in Early Antiquity [ed. I. M. Diakonoff; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991] esp. p.  250). Also found in Boghazköy were fragments of Gilgamesh in Akkadian, Hurrian, and Hittite (G. Beckman, “Hittite and Hurrian Epic,” 258–59; A. B. Knapp, The History and Culture of Ancient Western Asia and Egypt [Belmont, CA: Wadsworth, 1988] 196–97). Gilgamesh would have been known to the Hittites through the Hurrian texts (G. W. Ahlström, The History of Ancient Palestine from the Paleolithic Period to Alexander’s Conquest [JSOTSup 146; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993] 146). As far back as the Third Dynasty at Ur, there is evidence of close political ties between the Hurrian kings at Urkesh, through the marriage of daughters born to Naram-Sin, and the powerful rulers of extreme southern Mesopotamia (M. Kelly-Buccellati, “Andirons at Urkesh: New Evidence for the Hurrian Identity of the Early Trans-Caucasian Culture,” in A View from the Highlands: Archaeological Studies in Honor of Charles Burney [ed. A. Segona; Herent, Belgium: Peeters, 2004] 68). Furthermore, an intriguing shift in the scribal tradition of Syro-Mesopotamia in the

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Certainly, this theme of complete separation between heaven and earth is found throughout the mythology of the ancient Near East. It is this divinely established separation that prevented Adapa from joining the gods and that required Ea to lie to Adapa as a preventive measure. And in the famous epic, Gilgamesh, grieving for his beloved Enkidu, vowed to cross the boundary and achieve eternal life in heaven. Not only did he fail in his quest, but he also lost his magic plant of rejuvenation to a serpent! Furthermore, the noisy rebellion against the gods in the Atraḫasis story clearly reveals “the human tendency to over-reach its limits and to encroach upon divine territory.” 20 The human assault led the gods to issue “regulations for the people” (uṣurāt nisi), 21 resulting in a “divinely ordained separation of heaven and earth and the enforcement of distinct limits upon the human race.” 22 Thus, the gods established the universe with a domain for themselves, separate and distinct from the earthly habitat of their humans, creating a properly balanced world. However, the humans, imbued with “divine spirit” from their creators, possess ambition and seek to rise above their prescribed limitations to achieve higher status. As yet, none has succeeded in the quest for immortality due to missed opportunity either through simple human foibles or misdirection of a divine mentor. The principle of separation provides us with a key for understanding Adapa and the South Wind as well as an explanation for the bizarre behavior of Yahweh in the garden narratives. And this motive continues throughout the first 11 chapters of Genesis sending a clear message: when said boundaries between heaven and earth are not respected, damage is done to the universe which gives rise to more boundaries and limitations for humanity. In a common and ancient interpretation of Gen 6:1–4, divine beings lust after human women, cross the great divide between heaven and earth to have 16th century can be seen clearly in the archives of Alalakh. The scribal tradition of Alalakh Level VII is Old Babylonian, while the material from Alalakh Level IV is that of the Hurrian scribal schools (Ahlström, The History of Ancient Palestine, 210). The influence of Hurrian literature may be more widespread than we have previously thought, and what has been called a “dark age” may perhaps not have been so dark after all (B. Landsberger, “Assyrische Königsliste und ‘dunkles Zeitalter,’” JCS 8 [1954] 31–73). Thus, we should not be surprised to find this theme of sacred separation more widely throughout the literature of northern and southern Mesopotamia. 20.  R. A. Oden, Jr., “Divine Aspirations in Atraḫasis and in Genesis 1–11,” ZAW 93 (1981) 208. 21.  Lambert and Millard, Atra-Ḫasīs: Babylonian Story of the Flood with the Sumerian Flood Story (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1999) 104. 22.  Hanson, “Rebellion in Heaven,” 214–15.

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their way with them thus upsetting the balance of nature, creating “giants in the earth.” In the 11th chapter of Genesis, humans band together to build a “tower with its top in the sky,” that is, a ziggurat. Whether their goal is to reach beyond human boundaries to “make a name for themselves,” or to provide an entryway for God/gods to enter this world for worship, or both, is not completely clear. In any event, the story implies encroachment on the established sacred space between heaven and earth. Therefore, Yahweh must establish further limits and safeguards resulting in the dispersal of multitudes over the face of the earth, hampering their communication with one an­ other, assuring that there will be no easy way for them to organize an­other attempt to violate the sacred boundary. As R. Hendel has pointed out “the Primeval Cycle is characterized by a series of mythological transgressions of boundaries that result in a range of divine responses which slowly build up the present order of the cosmos.” 23 In the garden, Adam and Eve desire wisdom and access to the tree of life. Achieving both goals would have thrust them across the boundary that separated them from the gods. Yet, like the mythological heroes mentioned earlier, they achieved wisdom but fell short of immortality. Even though they possess some of the “divine spirit,” they remain earthbound. Let us return to the garden narrative and look once again at the work of the Yahwist. Please notice the concluding verse of the story of Adam and Eve and the stealing of wisdom. See how Gen 3:22, the work of a mono­ theist, bears uncanny resemblance to the Near Eastern mythologies discussed above: Then the Lord God said, “Behold, the man has become like one of us, knowing good and evil; and now, lest he put forth his hand and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live forever—” (Gen 3:22 rsv)

Three aspects of this verse indicate that our author is recasting stories he knows from Near Eastern mythology. First, Yahweh is behaving very strangely toward his children Adam and Eve. Rather than the characteristic Father God of the Hebrew Scriptures, he appears here as a threatened adversary of the humans, much like Mesopotamian deities. Second, he is in conversation with other divine beings, gods who have knowledge of everything “good and evil,” universal knowledge. 24 And finally, rather than using the 23.  R. S. Hendel, “Of Demigods and the Deluge: Toward an Interpretation of Genesis 6:1–4,” JBL 106 (1987) 25. See also T. N. D. Mettinger, The Eden Narrative: A Literary and Religio-historical Study of Genesis 2–3 (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2007) 123–33. 24.  “Knowledge of good and bad” is a merism meaning “knowledge of every-

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biblical theology that regards humans to be “created in the image of God” as did the author of ch. 1 (Gen 1:28), we see a Mesopotamian anthropology of “wisdom and immortality” arising from the text just as in the Adapa narrative cited above. These literary topoi reveal a writer comfortably informed by Mesopotamian tradition including Adapa and the South Wind. 25 This is hardly surprising because the Bible records the tradition that the patriarchs themselves came from ancient Mesopotamia (Gen 11:27–12:5). But of further interest here is not how the biblical narratives echo the myths, but how they differ. Just how did the Yahwist alter these creation myths in his attempt to make them consonant with the monotheistic world of the ancient Israelites? We have already seen that our author could not or did not wish to eliminate the implication of divine deception from his narrative. 26 No, it was included because he knew it to be an integral part of the tradition he is transmitting. He had the literary license to omit it but did not. Rather than being offended, I am intrigued by the way in which this creative genius distracts us from God’s infelicity by highlighting the moral failings of all earthly creatures in the narrative. Unlike Ea who merely advises Adapa regarding his actions in heaven, Yahweh commands Adam with regard to his thing.” See my “Forbidden Fruit: Ancient Near Eastern Sexual Metaphors,” HUCA 70– 71 (1999–2000) 70 n. 49. Also, B. Batto, Slaying the Dragon: Mythmaking in the Biblical Tradition (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1992) 59. 25.  “It is obvious from the frequent and extensive borrowing of motifs that the Yahwist was intimately acquainted with at least the myths of Gilgamesh and Atraḫasis, and perhaps others (e.g., Adapa) as well” (Batto, Slaying the Dragon, 46); A. Demsky, “The Education of Canaanite Scribes in the Mesopotamian Cuneiform Tradition,” in Bar-Ilan Studies in Assyriology Dedicated to Pinḥas Artzi (ed. J. Klein and A. Skaist; BarIlan Studies in Ancient Near Eastern Languages and Culture; Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1990) 157–90. 26.  Most interesting are the comments of Batto: Earlier in the discussion of Adapa I suggested, on the assumption that this god was desirous of preserving immortality for the gods alone, that the god Ea deliberately led Adapa astray in advising him not to eat or drink anything offered him in heaven. . . . Certainly mythology contains ample evidence of gods lying. But in the case of Genesis 3, I am inclined to think that the Yahwist intended to portray Yahweh as innocently mistaken. This would certainly fit the Yahwist’s portrait of the Creator thus far, as naive about the outcome of his creation. (Batto, Slaying the Dragon, 61) See most recently J. Charlesworth, who suggests that the Yahwist never implies that Adam and Eve were created with immortality but that they had to partake daily of the tree of life; after expulsion they could not do that (Charlesworth cites personal conversations with D. N. Freedman for this suggestion; The Good and Evil Serpent, 315 n. 219).

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eating from the tree. “You shall not eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.” And the very next time Adam sees him, Yahweh asks, “Have you eaten from the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?” (Gen 3:11b). 27 No longer are we focused on God’s harsh caveat of 2:17, which was not carried out immediately, but on Adam whom God is about to condemn. This is high drama. No one is asking, “Didn’t God say that eating the fruit would cause Adam’s soon demise?” No, the judge, the jury and the entire court are looking at Adam! The voice of God booms through the room: “Did you break my commandment?” Now everything in the narrative shifts away from Yahweh’s threat against Adam and Eve. First Adam blames Eve (“The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me fruit from the tree, and I ate” [3:12]) and then Eve blames the serpent (“The serpent tricked me, and I ate” [3:13]). It’s all smoke and mirrors. Keep your eye on the original plot: They ate the fruit but did not swiftly perish. 28 Yet this narrative shift has kept the reader’s eye off that very fact for more than 2,000 years. The whole notion of commandments and transgressions which permeates Torah keeps us distracted from the precise details of the plot we now willingly abandon. If God commands and we disobey there will be consequences. It is the most basic law of human society. I am responsible for my actions and therefore will pay whatever penalty is exacted. Because the Yahwist has his narrative strategy in place, he continues with his “theme of individual responsibility.” The serpent, who seems to have understood the situation and predicted the outcome, is now blamed for Adam and Eve’s transgressions. So God Yahweh, acting on Eve’s unsubstantiated charge, takes the snake’s legs and makes him loathsome in the eyes of human beings (vv. 14–15, he also lost his voice, did he not?). To Eve and all women is meted out birth anxiety and subjugation to men (v. 16). Men will have to work for a living and there will be weeds in his workplace (vv. 17–18). And in the end, everyone dies (v. 19). In this passage, we find seven etiologies for seven evils in the world God created. And the Yahwist has now freed God from any responsibility for creating these evils. The man, the woman and the serpent have only themselves to blame. 29 So now it is safe for the Yahwist to set in place 3:22, 27.  ‫המן־העץ אשר צויתיך לבלתי אכל־ממנו אכלת‬. 28.  And we are also being distracted from an intriguing sexual metaphor. The transgression, the “eating of fruit,” I contend is a straightforward metaphor for sexual intercourse. See my “Forbidden Fruit,” 57–73. 29.  Elsewhere, the writer has argued that the reason for a talking serpent in the story is that his speech shows he has a mind like a human being and therefore can be held responsible for his personal actions. It would be very bad form for Yahweh to pun-

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the final building block of the story, because we have all but forgotten the phrase “when you eat of it you shall surely die.” The enlightened and lively Adam and Eve is the last piece of the original story and he can no more leave it out than he could omit God’s stern warning which remains unfulfilled. Although the Yahwist interrupted the flow of the original plot to distract his audience, he will now be able to present the fact that the serpent’s prophecy has been fulfilled: “Then God Yahweh said, ‘See, the man has become like one of us, knowing good and evil.’” Is there no one who will stand up and say, “Was the serpent not correct after all? They ate the fruit, became wise as gods, and, though they immediately sealed their mortality and lost access to the tree of life, they did not actually die until hundreds of years later.” None of the audience will speak up, for in 16 verses our author has distracted us from the original issue. I am a great admirer of the Yahwist’s skills and I cannot imagine a more daunting task than reshaping well-known and revered mythologies into an appropriate form for inclusion in the Hebrew Scriptures. He had to include the Mesopotamian theme of the divine deceit; he knew he could not simply excise it from the story. No, not at all, for the “deceptive god” motive highlights the importance of maintaining the absolute separation of the earth and the heavens. Even though its inclusion presented our editor with a daunting task, he handled it deftly. ish an innocent, dumb creature. Obviously the ancients viewed the entire suborder serpentes as victims of the Creator. See my “That Fabulous Talking Snake,” in The Challenge of Bible Translation: Communicating God’s Word to the World [ed. G. Scorgie, M. Strauss, and S. Voth; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2003] 265–72).

Toward an Ethic of Liberation for Bible Translation A Work in Progress Steven Voth One can perhaps say that no book or collection of writings has been translated more often and with more care and into more languages than the Bible. This of course has generated a myriad of opinions, not least of which is that repeated saying traduttore traditore. Consequently, one immediately asks: “traitor to what, to whom?” This reality is further complicated by the forceful suggestion that translation is indeed impossible. Rabbi Simlai once affirmed that translation is an impossible task: “He who translates is a heretic but he who refuses to translate is a blasphemer.” Consequently, when it comes to the practice and profession of translation, “you’re damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.” Brueggemann has coined the phrase “texts that linger, words that explode,” referring to the traditioning process present in the Bible, particularly with reference to the prophets. 1 He suggests that at certain times in the history of the community’s embracing of the biblical text something new happens: What has been tradition, hovering in dormancy, becomes available experience. In the moment of speaking and hearing, treasured tradition becomes present experience, inimitable, without parallel, irreversible. In that utterance, the word does lead to reality. 2

If indeed Brueggemann is correct, not only is the translation of the Bible a difficult exercise, but developing a translation ethic for Bible translation becomes a very complex endeavor. In fact, at the outset I will suggest that an overarching definitive ethic of Bible translation is an impossibility. And yet, the pursuit of an ethic, rather than the ethic, is a worthy task. Author’s note: Sam Greengus, an outstanding scholar and teacher, a beloved friend, but most of all a caring sensitive husband, father, and grandfather. Sam, you are a blessing to all! 1.  W. Brueggemann, “Texts That Linger, Words That Explode,” ThTo 54 (1997) 180–99. 2.  Ibid., 181. Emphasis is original.

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It is not my main goal to discuss the many and diverse problems that the Bible translator faces. The main goal here is to explore various issues that are pertinent to the development of a Bible translation ethic. It should be obvious by now to any reader that I consider any theoretical framework construed in this exercise to be extremely provisional. At the outset, the methodology will be dialogical. A dialogue will be developed with Towner, Pym, Chesterman, Lyotard, Dussel, Wittgenstein, and Spinoza. 3 This dialogue will focus on two significant issues: (a) ideology and (b) marketing. The discussion around these issues will be illustrated by real examples that come from translation projects in the Americas. None of the examples or situations that will be presented is hypothetical or fictional. Rather, they are concrete, real, and one could perhaps categorize them as historical. Some of these examples will serve as case studies that can help hone some ethical issues that bear on Bible translation. After considering these two main issues that most certainly bear on the development of a possible ethic for Bible translation, I will attempt to work through a proposal that will suggest some alternatives and guidelines for articulating a very flexible model of Bible translation ethics. The reason that an emphasis is placed on flexible is that I consider culture in its various forms and expressions to mitigate any attempt at developing a rigid, fixed, and closed model. If culture can be understood as a set of realized categories or structures, actual and conscious, which provide lifestyles and meaning to a particular society, 4 then any ethic must be flexible enough to embrace this complex reality.

Ideology and Bible Translation We have written in other studies that no translation of any text is ever “neutral” or objective. This means that translations of texts never take place in a vacuum. They are produced in specific places, at specific times, under specific conditions. Thus, a number of factors play into the exercise of translation. Among these factors, I suggest that the more critical are realities of 3. P. Towner, “Ethics and Bible Translation: A Working Paper,” (paper presented at the Conference on Translation and the Machine: Translation and Technology, University of Rome, April 2004) 1–12; A. Pym, Translation and Text Transfer (New York: Peter Lang, 1992) 151–74; A. Chesterman, “Proposal for a Hieronymic Oath,” The Translator 7/2 (2001) 139–54; A. Yengoyan, “Lyotard and Wittgenstein and the Question of Translation,” in Translating Cultures (ed. P. Rubel and A. Rosman; Oxford: Berg, 2003) 25–44. G. Deleuze, En Medio de Spínoza (Buenos Aires: Ediciones Cactus, 2004); E. Dussel, Ética de la liberación en la edad de la globalización y de la exclusión (Madrid: Editorial Trotta, 2004) 1–661. 4.  Yengoyan, “Lyotard and Wittgenstein,” 25–44.

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race, class, gender, life histories, theological persuasions, political alliances, distinctive cultural features and, last but not least, marketing issues. 5 All of these factors contribute to the “ideology” of any given translator or team of translators: Ideology is that systematic body of concepts that exist, characterize, and define human life or culture. In one sense, ideology can be compared to “world view.” It has to do with the way an individual or group understands and defines reality. For purposes of this study, I will differentiate world view from ideology. The main distinction will be based on the assumption that any given person is more aware of his or her ideology than of his or her world view. Ideology is many times something one chooses, and consequently it is much more permeated by subjectivity and interest. There are many kinds of ideologies that individuals and groups embrace. We can speak of political, religious, epistemological, economical, or social ideologies, just to name a few. These ideologies are never innocent or neutral, but they are always present. Thus, no translation of any given text is innocent or neutral. There is no such thing as an “immaculate translation.” This reality, which admittedly has been stated in somewhat forceful terms, inevitably bears on any discussion of an ethic for translation, particularly for Bible translation. Stanley Porter is correct when he observes, “The history of Bible translation is charged with ideological issues.” 6 It is for this reason that the articulation of a Bible translation ethic must take into consideration the constant and unrelenting presence of ideology. If a Bible translation ethic does not wrestle with this reality or chooses to ignore it altogether, it will be an ethic that is devoid of credibility. This is not an easy task, nor is it a matter that I have resolved. At most, I can say that I am in the process of engaging the reality of “ideology” in the exercise of articulating an ethic. Final and definitive answers are not on the immediate horizon. Given this situation, I will proceed to consider some actual examples or case studies that will illustrate and provide elements that should be evaluated.

Ideology: Case Studies Example 1 In 1990, I began work on a new translation for the International Bible 5. S. Voth, “Justice and/or Righteousness: A Contextualized Analysis of ‘Sedeq’ in the kjv (English) and the rvr (Spanish),” in The Challenge of Bible Translation (ed. G. Scorgie, M. Strauss, and S. Voth; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2003) 321–45. 6. S. Porter, “The Contemporary English Version and the Ideology of Translation,” in Translating the Bible—Problems and Prospects (ed. S. Porter and R. Hess; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999) 18.

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Society. I was elected to be chairman of the Old Testament team. This was to be a translation of the original languages into Spanish. The exegetical, stylistic, and format guidelines were to be the same as those followed by the team that produced the New International Version for the English language. Soon after the translation began, a debate developed around the issue of capitalization. Spanish is a language that is quite stingy with regards to the use of capital letters. Titles of books, articles, and so on, only capitalize the first word. Names of languages, months, and days of the week are not capitalized. In the process of producing the Nueva Versión Internacional, the issue arose of whether to capitalize the word spirit in the Old Testament, particularly when it clearly referred to the spirit of God. The discussion became polarized because the New Testament team argued in favor of capitalizing the word spirit, whereas the Old Testament team unanimously preferred to leave the word uncapitalized. Soon in the discussion, the ideological factors came into play. One of the most important was the presupposition that the Old Testament must be interpreted in light of the New. On the other hand, the Old Testament team, which I represented, argued that it was incorrect to read into Old Testament contexts the New Testament concept of Holy Spirit, which surely is elicited by capitalizing the word spirit. A very critical context that generated much heated debate was Gen 1:2, which obviously provides other alternatives as well. The discussion continued for several years. Eventually, the New Testament ideology won the day. The final decision was not based on careful exegesis of an ancient text. It resulted from a clear ideologically based interpretation. A final vote was taken, including all the translators. Since there were more translators on the New Testament team than on its counterpart, the word spirit was capitalized almost throughout the nvi Old Testament. Was this the correct ethical decision? Or perhaps I should ask, was a correct ethical process followed? What factors influenced the decision and final outcome of the debate? Certainly, the ideological factor was important. However, one cannot dismiss the marketing issue (which will be discussed below). It became quite evident that the New Testament members of the translation team were far more concerned about the possible negative reactions that might be provoked by not capitalizing the word spirit. But the question remains: what ethical criteria should be invoked in this kind of a situation? Perhaps we should recognize that we have issues of divided loyalty in a case such as this. In fact, it seems that many “loyalties” come into play: loyalty to the Old Testament, loyalty to the New Testament, loyalty to translation tradition, loyalty to the sponsoring society, and loy-

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alty to the consumer, among others. Pym has correctly stated that translators are rarely above suspicion. 7 I would say that Bible translators are never above suspicion, and decisions like the one just described will generate even more suspicion particularly among certain communities of faith. So, are there ethical rules that can be followed here? In my own case, do professional ethics take precedence over personal ethics at this point? It must be obvious by now that I have more questions than answers.

Example 2 In this same nvi translation project, another heated issue surfaced.  In the traditional and historic Spanish translation (known as the Reina-Valera), John 1:1 reads: “En el principio era el Verbo,” “In the beginning was the Verb.” This Spanish translation, finished in 1569 by Casiodoro de Reina, was the first Spanish translation of the Bible based on the original languages. Years after Reina finished his translation into Spanish, in a subsequent revision of this Bible, the word for logos he had translated as Palabra, “Word,” was changed to Verbo, “Verb.” For centuries, this became the accepted translation, both in Catholic and Protestant circles. However, in the 20th century, many new translations such as Dios Habla Hoy, El libro del pueblo de Dios, Cantera Iglesias, and many others decided to translate logos as palabra, “word.” Now it must be recognized that the tradition is so firmly embedded that when one looks up the word verbo in the most prestigious Spanish dictionary, which comes from the Real Academia Española, one finds as the first meaning for verbo: the second person of the Most Holy Trinity (segunda persona de la Santísima Trinidad). Many years prior to the nvi translation project, scholars concluded that the most accurate and preferable translation for logos was palabra, “word.” Hence, the most logical and exegetically accurate translation of logos for John 1:1 would have been palabra. However, once again ideological matters and tradition came into play. The word Verbo carries such theological and spiritual weight that it becomes very difficult for translators to change it. Consequently, after all the discussion and debate, when the vote was taken, tradition prevailed. Whereas the nvi distinguishes itself as being based on the most recent and contemporary scholarship, at this point it capitulated to tradition and ideological pressures. The ethical issues surface once more. Pym speaks much about teamwork. He advocates for a prohibition of solitude. 8 I quite agree, and yet in 7.  Pym, Translation and Text Transfer, 151–74. 8.  Ibid., 151–74.

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the cases just discussed teamwork did not help in liberating the translation process from ideological conditioning and pressures. On the other hand, if indeed a translator is authorized to do the work based on his or her skills, then one wonders about the ethics of what I will call “skill suspension.” The translator places his or her skills on hold, as it were, and privileges ideology, inherited or otherwise, when choosing a particular way of translating. I am not sure at all that translational quality is achieved in this manner.

Example 3 The case study that follows presents the situation where different cultures and ideologies come into play. As I began work on a translation project of the Old Testament with the Toba community in northern Argentina, I was immediately confronted by the cacique, “chief.” He had been the one who worked on the translation of the New Testament which was published in 1981. Apparently, over the course of time, a theology of a benevolent God developed within the Toba community. Upon translating the Old Testament and finding that at times God was depicted as a jealous God, or as an angry God, the cacique told me that this was unacceptable for the Toba community. He therefore refused to translate these adjectives that described God in a very anthropomorphic way, because they diminished God, and God’s reputation would suffer tremendously in the community. Facing this situation, I certainly echo Chesterman’s questions: How are we to decide where the ethical responsibility of the translator stops—or does it stop at all? In this case, where does the ethical responsibility of the translation consultant/translator stop? 9 It is cases like these that lead me to question the ethical model offered by Chesterman. He develops a theoretical framework based on virtues such as trustworthiness, truthfulness, fairness, and the courage to take a risk in caring for others. He then suggests that all of these must be subordinate to “understanding.” 10 But one immediately asks: whose understanding? Is it the understanding of the cacique that must be accepted? Or is it the understanding of the translation consultant? In either case, it seems that there is another issue at stake as well, namely, “improving the source text.” Pym argues correctly that improving the source text lies outside the responsibility of the translator. The source text should be considered a fait accompli. 11 This would suggest that if the source text speaks of a jealous God or a God who can get angry, this should not be changed or even nuanced. On the surface, this may seem to be an easy 9.  Chesterman, “Proposal for a Hieronymic Oath,” 139–54. 10.  Ibid., 139–54. 11.  Pym, Translation and Text Transfer, 151–74.

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decision or solution for the translation consultant/translator. However, it is a well-known fact that, if the cacique does not approve of the translation project and the final product, no one in the community will read the translation. So, issues of power enter the arena of ethical decisions, along with matters of ideology and source text improvement. But perhaps the most important question is: do I want the text to be read by the community? I submit once again that the questions continue to appear at every corner.

Marketing and Bible Translation The relationship between marketing and Bible translation is one that most religious communities would rather ignore. 12 The many nonprofit organizations and societies that pursue Bible translation attempt to minimize this reality. Furthermore, it is my impression that neither Pym, Chesterman, Towner, Lyotard, nor Wittgenstein, among others, deals with this issue explicitly and overtly. 13 Towner and Pym perhaps allude to this when they discuss who is the client and what the client can expect This represents only a beginning toward acknowledging the reality and forceful presence that marketing has on Bible translation. I recognize that this may not be as relevant for Bible translation projects into so-called minority languages, where there may not be a long history of tradition and where no previous Bible translation exists. However, when one is involved in translating the Bible into a majority language such as Spanish for a continent with a long Catholic and Protestant tradition, marketing shows its face over and over. Perhaps the most accepted understanding of marketing is that it involves the process of planning and executing the conception, pricing, promotion, and distribution of goods, services, and ideas to create exchanges that satisfy individual and organizational objectives. The matter of satisfying individual and organizational objectives seems to be the most relevant for our purposes. In other words, how does one develop a translation ethic and at the same time satisfy objectives that are tied into promotion and distribution objectives. When dealing with modern Bible translations into majority languages, the costs are enormous and the nonprofit organization responsible for the 12.  In a longer version of this essay, a section is included that explains the positive aspects of marketing. Suffice it to say here that marketing can act as a most helpful instrument if it is infused with a humanitarian concern and does not force the translator to compromise important ethical decisions. 13.  Ibid.; Chesterman, “Proposal for a Hieronymic Oath,” 139–54; Towner, “Ethics and Bible Translation: A Working Paper,” 1–12; Yengoyan, “Lyotard and Wittgenstein,” 25–44.

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project hopes that the product will satisfy the objectives and thus recover part if not all of the initial investment, so that other projects can be initiated. The satisfaction of objectives becomes a powerful player at the translation table. As Towner has indicated, satisfaction may be sought by more than one entity in any given project, such as a National Bible Society, a particular religious confession, and so on. 14 As we will see in the examples below, these and other interested parties can exert a tremendous amount of pressure on the translator or translation team. The examples that I will present exhibit an interesting overlap between marketing and ideological pressures. It is my intention to demonstrate that these issues must be placed forefront in any discussion or development of a Bible translation ethic.

Marketing: Case Studies Example 1 For almost 10 years I participated in the latest UBS Spanish translation project. The goal was to produce a translation characterized by simple contemporary language that had as its main goal the communication of the message of the Bible. The New Testament was published in the year 2000. This translation is now called Traducción en Lenguaje Actual. This is quite an innovative translation of the Bible, where entire bodies of the text were restructured. The response has been more than positive. I admit that, in part, many leaders accept it because they see that it is intended for children. There always has been a condescending attitude toward children. The publication office in the Americas was very happy when they received an order for 100,000 copies of the NT from a Catholic bishop in Venezuela. All was well until somebody called the bishop’s attention to the translation of Luke 2:7. The text says in Spanish primer hijo, “firstborn son.” Traditional Spanish translations read primogénito. This word means only one thing, “first born.” However, it is not a word that is used in common speech, nor would most children understand it. The bishop, however, insisted that we use the traditional historic word. Why? Because the word primogénito for this bishop suggested not only “first born,” but also “only” son. His ideological presuppositions came into play. From one side, the pressure is exerted for ideological reasons. From the publications unit side, the pressure is financial and market driven. Why should we jeopardize the sale of 100,000 copies because of one simple, apparently innocent word? And this could lead to other more catastrophic 14. P. Towner, “Ethics and Bible Translation: A Working Paper,” 1–12.

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rejections. The irony of it all is that the New Testament was carefully reviewed and approved by Monseñor Armando Levoratti, a member of the Vatican Bible Commission, and was published with a letter of endorsement by the Archbishop of Tegucigalpa and president of the Consejo Episcopal Latinoamericano. The issue had to be dealt with by members of the translation team. What ethical parameters are we to use? Certainly there are no linguistic, exegetical, or translational reasons for changing the text. The only reason for changing the text would be to satisfy the need to sell 100,000 copies. On the other hand, it compromises our translation philosophy in producing this text. Our studies clearly indicated that the word primogénito is not a word readily understood by children. The questions continue to surface: are we to change the translation of a biblical text every time somebody with marketing power requests a change? Does a time ever come in Bible translation work when “enough is enough?” As translators we may have a “Hieronymic Oath” that we follow, or we may embrace an ethic based on virtues, and furthermore we may have the capacity to differentiate between personal and professional ethics. But the underlying message that we receive seems to be, when money talks, translators had better “shut up or put up”. The final decision that was rendered was to respect the translation as it was rendered originally. This decision was a very difficult one that implied a significant financial sacrifice.

Example 2 The Traducción en Lengue Actual was challenged by a National Bible Society in relation to the translation of 1  John 5:16–17. After much research, the translation team decided to follow what we considered the best exegetical commentaries, including the UBS Handbook on The Letters of John. Our translation interpreted the text to refer to “spiritual death” or “eternal death” rather than simply to “death,” which is quite ambiguous in the context. This National Bible Society sent a letter to the other General Secretaries of the Latin American National Bible Societies threatening that, if we (the translators) did not change the translation of this text in the already published New Testament, they would not distribute the complete Traducción en Lenguaje Actual. They required the translators to change the translation so that the text remained ambiguous, much like the more literal and traditional translations. Once again, the decision to change a given text was not made for exegetical, historical, and linguistic reasons. Nor was it based on some “higher

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ethic.” The change originated within a preconceived ideology. That ideol­ ogy is the one accepted by a majority of the people who are related to a particular local Bible Society. This National Bible Society then exerts the same kind of ideological pressure on the rest of the National Bible Societies in the continent. However, the threat to not distribute the TLA produced a definite marketing pressure. A translation of this magnitude required a major investment. Those who participated in this project came from different regions in Latin America. They also represented different specializations. The purpose was to have an interdisciplinary team involved at all stages of the translation. All of this is very costly. The final outcome was that we were forced to make a change in the text because of this threat. We sacrificed a translation that as specialists we felt was a much better translation because of marketing pressure. What ethic, if any, is operative here? To what extent can we speak of an ethic of representation where the ethical imperative is to represent the source text? Perhaps the ethics of service applies more closely, where the aim of the translation is set by the client and accepted and negotiated by the translator. And yet, the situation here is somewhat different because the client did not set the aim of the translation. The client in this case receives the translation and then exercises power over the product. Related to this case, one could entertain Pym’s comment that an ethics of translation should be able to address moral dilemmas when they arise but should not raise them unnecessarily. 15 Did our translation of 1  John 5:16–17 raise a moral dilemma unnecessarily? I am not sure I would characterize the translation as posing a moral dilemma. On the other hand, we as translators are faced with a moral dilemma when we are forced to change a text on the basis of a marketing threat.

Toward a Liberation Ethic of Bible Translation The previous discussion has been articulated in order to serve as a catalyst for thinking about a Bible translation ethic. In some sense, the purpose is to begin with the more pragmatic and move on to the more theoretical sphere. It is my contention that the real examples must nurture the development of any theoretical framework. I stated at the outset that my intention was not to develop a rigid ethic that would provide closure to the discussion. The examples offered suggest that it would be presumptuous to think that one could offer a full-fledged ethic that is capable of embracing all translation issues in all cultures. This 15.  Pym, Translation and Text Transfer, 151–74.

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is especially true if one is at least somewhat skeptical of whether any given translation can ever be adequately accomplished. Lyotard is perhaps correct when he says that translation in any form is virtually impossible, because each language has its own set of rules that are culturally determined and temporally specific. Lyotard also contends that translation is not only an infinite task with no closure, but that every translation begets another. 16 In other words, translation is an ongoing process that is never neat and tidy. Loose ends appear constantly, and this is part and parcel with the nature of translation. In fact, Yengoyan may be right when he asserts that “translation is a form of house-cleaning which might be tidy, but the real beauty of house-cleaning is to keep disorder and partial chaos as part of the process.” 17 This same reality applies to the attempt to articulate a Bible translation ethic. Closure and comprehensiveness may be an impossibility and to a certain degree undesirable. My proposal for a Bible translation ethic begins by stating that, due to the nature of the translation process itself, it will inevitably be subjective, partial, and flexible and will not pretend to bring closure to the discussion. Perhaps what I am proposing is a kind of minimalist picture. This picture is somewhat similar to what the ancient Greeks taught us through Heraclites’ insight that one can never step in the same river again. Contexts, language, cultures, and ideas change constantly and this is what needs to be in the background of any theoretical articulation. This picture, as was stated above, will always be subjective and cannot claim to be absolute in any sense of the word. This is partly due to the fact that Bible translation is always done in a sociocultural context. These realities in my opinion do not take away from the possibility of suggesting a course of action that can be considered viable and legitimate. I will begin by building on Chesterman’s suggestion that virtues such as trustworthiness, truthfulness, fairness, and the courage to take risks in caring for others are valid, human qualities to be pursued in developing a Bible translation ethic. Admittedly, each of these terms must be more clearly defined. For example, what is fairness? Who defines it? Does the idea, concept, and/or practice of fairness vary from one culture to another? But whatever the answers are to these questions, I can agree with Chesterman that these virtues involve human relationships. It is at this point that I would like to introduce a concept that could be understood as one that can 16.  Yengoyan, “Lyotard and Wittgenstein,” 25–44. See also, J. F. Lyotard, La condición postmoderna (Buenos Aires: Red Editorial Iberoamericana, 1995). 17.  Ibid.

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sustain a Bible translation ethic. I suggest that a translation ethic should be one that “settles” or “composes,” that is, that sets things or persons right, that makes right. Spinoza speaks of something similar in more ontological terms. 18 I take up Spinoza’s suggestion and apply it to the translator and translation process and say that an “ethical” translation is one that “composes” and therefore empowers. Stated in opposite terms, any translation that diminishes, or “disempowers” is not an ethical translation, subjective as it may sound. I am suggesting that this framework ought to prevail over matters of ideology, religious confession, marketing, and other related issues. The goal of the translator and subsequently of the translation should be to “compose” in the sense of placing in proper form, of settling, of making right. This in turn empowers an individual, a community, or a situation. A translator should attempt to provide dignity, worth, and value through the translation produced. I state this in very general categories because the reality of Bible translation is quite complex. First, Bible translation is a process that is never finished. It is a never-ending story for a variety of reasons. Second, in my experience, the translator-client relationship is never clear cut. By this, I mean that we are not hired directly by those who will read our Bible translations. In fact, we may have to speak of multiple clients: National Bible Society, denominational leaders (missionaries), indigenous leaders, and indigenous communities. And yet none of these pay our salaries directly. Third, it is very different if we are producing the only Bible that any given community will read, or if we are producing a Bible for a majority language. Noorda is forceful when he writes, Because Bible Societies subsidize the production and sale of Bibles that are made available in “poor” areas of the world, they can establish a monopoly and provide the only version of the Bible that many readers will ever see or hear. . . . Those who are not able to choose will be at the mercy, so to speak, of whatever theology or translation principle has driven the one version that they have, a fact that should provide food for thought. 19

I do not mean to be critical of the work of the Bible Society. After all, one Bible is better than none. All I want to do is to raise consciousness of this reality when trying to articulate a translation ethic. Issues of commercial power, monopoly, and so forth cannot be ignored. It is in light of this that 18.  Deleuze, En Medio de Spínoza. 19. S. Norad, “New and Familiar: The Dynamics of Bible Translation,” in Bible Translation on the Threshold of the Twenty-First Century (ed. A. Brenner and J. W. van Henten; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002) 26–27, 30.

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I suggest that a Bible translation ethic should seek to compose and in this way empower the “other” to be, to have life. A necessary component of this ethic is “service.” This is quite different from the ethics of service as explained by Chesterman. Because I am suggesting an ethic for Bible translation, I feel it is legitimate to suggest a more theological nuance for the concept of service. By this, I mean that translators and translations ought to be infused with a spirit of service to the fellow human being. The translation should not be an end in and of itself. The translator should continually ask, how can this translation best serve the so-called client? I am not as concerned about loyalty as Chesterman is, for loyalty has the potential to compromise the translator. I am concerned however that a deep sense of service infuse the entire translation process. Finally, as part of this Bible translation ethic I propose that “liberation” 20 must go alongside the intent to compose, to empower, and to serve. 21 Bible translation should be a process whereby liberation in its broadest sense is achieved. This will certainly be contextually and culturally determined. And yet, the intent to liberate must be present throughout the entire process of Bible translation. The translation process of the Bible should not become one more institution, or one more subsystem (Foucault) that directly or indirectly facilitates the “exclusion of the other.” I suggest that an ethic of liberation is needed to keep the Bible translation process from becoming an entity of power that places people “outside.” On the contrary, it should bring the “other” inside and nurture life in its full expression. The ethic must seek to articulate the feasibility of a horizon of life, rather than the building of walls of exclusion, marginalization, and death. An ethic of liberation must engage in a transformative action by which all of the knowledge employed in the translation process is for the development of life. Many of the Bible translation projects are done on behalf of, in the interest of, for the sake of, and in conjunction with communities of victims, or “victimized communities.” That is why an ethic of liberation is so imperative. An ethic of liberation will provide the opportunity for the Bible translation process to intervene creatively in the qualitative progress of history. It represents the channel by which the translation process can transform the sword into a plow that will open the way for the development of life. 20.  I use the term liberation to refer to that spiritual, political, and economic process by which oppression, marginalization, and corruption are dealt with so that the human being is treated with respect and dignity. In more biblical terms, it refers to the restoration of the image of God in each and every person. 21.  Dussel, Ética de la liberación, 1–661, a comprehensive treatment on the ethics of liberation for a globalized world.

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An ethic of liberation is an ethic of responsibility for the “other.” It could be called an ethic of radical responsibility, because it will not pass by on the other side when confronted with a victim. The responsibility for the other who is vulnerable, who is suffering becomes the litmus test of an ethic of Bible translation. It is my contention that, if liberation is absent from an ethical construct, then I call that construct a reductionist ethic of Bible translation. Given the devastating realities that most people experience on planet Earth, a Bible translation ethic needs to demand that liberation become an integral component of its framework. I state this passionately, while at the same time acknowledging that it is a subjective matter. In conclusion, I consider that these elements, though not absolute or comprehensive, are necessary for a Bible translation ethic, so that matters of ideology, marketing, interest groups, and personal agendas can be addressed in such a way that no one of them dominates the translation process. What is clear to me is that this discussion, much like Bible translation, is and should be a never-ending process. What I propose is not meant to bring closure to the issue but simply to provide some principles that in my consideration are essential. Questions still remain. How do we ethically address a situation in which a National Bible Society decides not to carry forth any more translation projects? Is there an ethical responsibility toward the translator in such a case? How do we infuse an ethical framework with justice (and by this I mean biblical justice)? These and many other questions still remain to be addressed. It is these considerations that lead us to emphasize that a Bible translation ethic must remain provisional, flexible, and open to new horizons.

Demons in Mesopotamia and Israel Exploring the Category of Non-Divine but Supernatural Entities John H. Walton Introduction One of the ways that comparative studies can contribute to the interpretation of the Hebrew Bible is to provide information from the cognitive environment that fills in gaps where the biblical information is scant. In our interest to fill in such gaps, however, we cannot uncritically adopt ancient Near Eastern views wholesale as if Israel never departs from the mainstream. 1 On the other end of the spectrum, inserting the Hellenistic or the New Testament view into the gaps is methodologically flawed for the same reasons. Both the ancient Near East and the New Testament hold potentially helpful perspectives, but both must be investigated closely in relation to the actual textual data of the Hebrew Bible. One of the areas that has been insufficiently studied, and has often had outside information imposed on it, is the concept and role of demons in the Hebrew Bible. It is especially interesting because demons play such a substantial role in the ancient Near East, in the Hellenistic Period, and in the New Testament, but are largely absent from the Hebrew Bible. The first problem we face concerns terminology. No general term for “demons” exists in any of the major cultures of the ancient Near East or in the Hebrew Bible. They are generally considered one of the categories of “spirit beings” (along with gods and ghosts). The term demons has had a checkered history; in today’s theological usage the term denotes beings, Author’s note: I am delighted to be able to dedicate this article to Sam Greengus, with gratitude. His gentle and gracious spirit coupled with his careful and insightful scholarship were an inspiration to me as to all his students. I am grateful also to Jonathan Walton for many helpful ideas, suggestions, and insights that contributed significantly to this essay. 1.  Note an unfortunately fairly typical comment by J. B. Russell, “The minor malicious spirits that appeared from time to time in Hebrew religion resemble those of other cultures and were in large part derived from those of Canaan.” See The Devil (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1977) 215.

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often fallen angels, 2 who are intrinsically evil and who do the bidding of their master, Satan. This definition, however, only became commonplace long after the Hebrew Bible was complete. The idea of evil spirits under the control of a chief demon cannot be assumed for the ancient Near East or for the Hebrew Bible, and even for the New Testament requires careful assessment. Some of the general concepts that eventually appear in Judaism and Christianity can be observed to show similarity to Persian Zoroastrianism, though we should hesitate to draw straight lines of influence without further evidence. The Hellenistic period has creatures referred to as daimon in the hierarchy of spirit beings. Yet the term demon is simply a Latinized spelling of this word, and cannot be used to label the Hellenistic category, because etymologically, the Greek term daimon can refer to spirit beings who are either protagonist or antagonist, beneficial or harmful, benign or sinister. The term daimon could be applied to any being that was higher than a human and lower than a god. 3 These beings were morally neutral. Thus the English term demon is already a prejudicial label that undermines the investigation due to anachronism. Rather than using prejudicial and potentially anachronistic terminology, we need first to establish a taxonomy of spirit beings on a largely descriptive basis.

Taxonomy of Spirit Beings Using empirical data found in the ancient literature, we can discern a taxonomy of spirit beings in three classes: Gods (class I), defined as those who receive sacrifices, at one extreme, and at the other extreme, ghosts (class III), defined as those who were formally human. 4 Class II is made up of all that remain and is a large and diverse group. 5 See table 1. 2.  Beginning especially with Origen, see J. B. Russell, Satan (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1981) 132. 3.  At times, even ghosts could be included in this category. Platonists defined daimon as intermediaries between gods and humans, as did Philo, who equated them with the Jewish category of angels. Eventually, the ambiguous daimon was replaced by daimonion, “which had a more negative connotation, and the Christians connected the daimonia with evil angels” (Russell, Satan, 48–49). More recently, see D. B. Martin, “When Did Angels Become Demons?” JBL 129 (2010) 657–77. 4.  While ghosts were taken seriously and could affect the living in terrifying ways, they were much more limited than class II entities. J. Scurlock (Magico-Medical Means of Treating Ghost-Induced Illnesses in Ancient Mesopotamia [Leiden: Brill and Styx, 2006] 5) identifies the obnoxious behavior of ghosts as represented in “emitting ghostly screams, by haunting people in visible form, and by causing a series of physical problems.” 5.  The categories cannot have a line between good (god) and evil (demons), for in the early cultures spirit beings were consistently morally ambiguous or neutral.

■■ Chaos monsters ■■ Protective spirits (guardians, benign or benevolent) ■■ Malevolent spirits ■■ Groups: utukku, asakku, rabiṣu, šedu ■■ Individuals: lamaštu, pazazu, lilitu

Spirits of the dead

II. Functionaries (subordinate to deities and subject to their control)

III. Ghosts (Once living humans; can receive food gifts)

Orthodoxa

Old Testament Israel

Spirits of the dead

■■ Chaos creatures (e.g., tannin, rahab, liwyatan, naḥaš) ■■ śaṭan Satan ■■ rûaḥ (benevolent or malevolent) ■■ mĕla’kîm Angels ■■ Guardians (e.g., kĕrûbîm, śĕrapîm) ■■ Attendant weapons (e.g., deber, rešep) ■■ Spirits in liminal areas (e.g., ‘az’azel, lîlît, ṣiyyîm, ’iyyîm) Spirits of the dead

■■ Foreign gods ■■ bĕnê-ha’ĕlôhîm Sons of God śaṭan Satan ■■ Chaos creatures (e.g., tannin, rahab, liwyatan, naḥaš) ■■ rûaḥ (benevolent or malevolent)b ■■ mĕla’kîm Angels ■■ Guardians (e.g., kĕrûbîm, śĕrapîm) ■■ Attendant weapons (e.g., deber, rešep) ■■ šedîm ■■ śĕ‘irîm ■■ Spirits in liminal areas (e.g., ‘az’azel, lîlît, ṣiyyîm,’iyyîm)

■■ Yahweh/Elohim Yahweh/Elohim ■■ Foreign gods ■■ šedîm ■■ śĕ‘irîm ■■ bĕnê-ha’ĕlôhîm Sons of God

Syncretistic

■■ śaṭan Satan ■■ bĕnê■■ Foreign gods ha’ĕlôhîm ■■ šedîm Sons of ■■ śĕ‘irîm God ■■ fallen bĕnê■■ mĕla’kîm ha’ĕlôhîm Sons of Angels God ■■ Guard■■ Attendant weapons ians (e.g., (e.g., deber, rešep) kĕrûbîm, ■■ Spirits in liminal śĕrapîm) areas (e.g., ‘az’azel, lîlît, ṣiyyîm,’iyyîm) Spirits of the dead

Daimonc

Aggelos

Hellenistic Judaism Yahweh/Elohim

a.  In Orthodox Israelite theology the idea is to move all but Yahweh out of class I and into class II b.  Not always an entity, e.g., when parallel to yad. c.  Since everything in class II must now be either daimon or aggelos, understanding of the beings develops. Increasingly, they divide along lines of good and evil. The daimon category, once defined as evil, is characterized more like the malevolent spirits known from the ancient Near East but configured in a dualistic world view.

Mesopotamia

■■ High gods (cosmic, city patrons) ■■ Members of the divine council ■■ Igigi ■■ Anunnaki ■■ Personal gods ■■ Foreign gods ■■ Deified Ancestors

Class

I. Gods (receive sacrifices)

Table 1.  Taxonomy of Spirit Beings (John H. Walton)

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Mesopotamia Class II In this essay, I will consider only Mesopotamian civilizations for a number of reasons. The material from Egypt follows many of the same patterns and categories as Mesopotamia with two notable exceptions. The first is that in Egypt the profile is complicated by the involvement of “class II” beings in the passage of the deceased to and through the netherworld. Views of afterlife in Israel have more overlap with Mesopotamia than Egypt, so the comparative study will be more productive using Mesopotamian civilizations. The second is that in Egypt the line between class I and class II is much less distinct because those in class II are sometimes eventually elevated to class I. Mesopotamia does not show the same sort of fluidity, nor does the Hebrew Bible. Ugarit has little to offer to the discussion. The scant information is drawn only from incantations, which offer very little descriptive information about their beliefs. 6 Horon, sometimes referred to as “lord of the demons,” can be either a threat or a protector. 7 Horon and Resheph are called “reified horrors” by Wyatt, who considers “demons” to be gods in the making or unmaking.” 8 As in Egypt, the line between classes I and II is somewhat blurred, with Resheph being also considered a god. For this reason and others, the data from Ugarit and Egypt merit their own separate investigations.

Great Symbiosis The role of spirits in general in Mesopotamia must be considered in light of what could be termed the “Great Symbiosis.” 9 Gods were believed to have needs for food, drink, clothing and housing. People had been created with the explicit purpose of providing for these needs. At the same 6. K. Spronk, “The Incantations,” in Handbook of Ugaritic Studies (ed. W. G. E. Watson and N. Wyatt; Leiden: Brill, 1999) 276–82. 7. U. Rüterswörden, “Horon,” in DDD, 425–26; J. H. Choi, “Resheph and Yhwh sebaʾot,” VT 54 (2004) 17–28. For treatment of incantation, see D. Pardee, Ritual and Cult at Ugarit (SBLWAW 10; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2002) 172–79, RS 24.244. 8. N. Wyatt, “The Religion of Ugarit: An Overview,” in Handbook of Ugaritic Studies (ed. W. G. E. Watson and N. Wyatt; Leiden: Brill, 1999) 549. 9.  The literature from ancient Mesopotamia evinces diversity of expressions and perceptions of spirit beings, so that we must be cautious about making too fine a distinction in each case. Nevertheless, the data are consistent enough across several genres in the ancient literature to make the following taxonomic distinctions. See K. van der Toorn, “The Theology of Demons in Mesopotamia and Israel: Popular Belief and Scholarly Speculation,” in Demons: The Demonology of Israelite-Jewish and Early Christian Literature in Context of Their Environment (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003) 61–83.

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time, when the gods were properly provided for, they would in turn provide care and protection for the people. This symbiosis between humans and gods provides the parameters for the Mesopotamian religious system. Religious obligation was defined by the rituals that were performed to meet the needs of the gods. The understanding of the gods was construed in terms of their provision and protection. People were only required to be ethical because that brought order to the world, not because the gods were ethical. Gods were not imitated or morally elevated, they were authority figures who demanded attention and offered benefits. Class I spirits (the gods) are here defined as those who are the protagonists in this Great Symbiosis. They are the focus of the rituals and they provide the benefits. Class II spirits are only tangential to the system. They do not have temples, priests or sacred space of any kind. 10 They do not receive sacrifices. 11 They are said to need neither food nor drink, so they have no needs to be provided. 12 They can do harm or provide benefits to humans just as the gods can, but the harm they bring is either as the agents of the gods, or as opportunists when the gods have not been properly cared for and are therefore inattentive to human subjects. 13 The incantation texts describe the latter sort of victims as those who “have no personal deity.” 14 The benefits 10. J. Westenholz, Dragons, Monsters and Fabulous Beasts (Jerusalem: Bible Lands Museum, 2004) 15. 11.  J. M. Blair, De-Demonising the Old Testament (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009) 81. P-A. Beaulieu indicates a possible exception in that deified fantastic creatures appear with divine determinatives and are recipients of offering in the Neo-Babylonian period at the temple of Eanna in Uruk, The Pantheon of Uruk during the Neo-Babylonian Period (Leiden: Brill, 2003) 355–68. T. Ornan, “In the Likeness of Man: Reflections on the Anthropocentric Perception of the Divine in Mesopotamian Art,” in What Is a God? (ed. B. N. Porter; TCBAI 2; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns) 97, however, counters that in this case they “might have been perceived as deified emanations of the god who had defeated them.” 12. In Utukku Lemnutu (Hereafter, UL) 6:166, it says that “They don’t eat food and don’t drink water” (needs provided by sacrifices and libations). In 13:27–28, “since no mašhatu-flour has been scattered for them, nor any divine offering made for them, their behavior is aggressive.” M. Geller, Evil Demons: Canonical Utukku Lemnutu Incantations (SAACT 5; Helsinki: Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 2007). 13. T. Abusch, “Witchcraft and the Anger of the Personal God,” Mesopotamian Witchcraft (Leiden: Styx and Brill, 2002) 47–48, identifies three stages of development. (1) The victim is vulnerable to demonic attack because unprotected by personal god who is absent or who has fled; (2) the victim is vulnerable because he has sinned and angered personal god who abandons or calls forth demonic attack; and (3) the victim is innocent but a witch is able to influence the deity to be angry. 14. G. Cunningham, Deliver Me From Evil: Mesopotamian Incantations 2500–1500 bc (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1997) 62.

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these class II spirits bring are also as agents of deity. Thus, their location outside the Great Symbiosis defines their position in the religious system.

Role of Magic The second element that defines class II in Mesopotamia is the nature of the relationship of these beings to the practice of magic and its associations with power. 15 Class II spirit beings exercise power in the human realm by terrorizing or protecting, and are resisted or enlisted by means of power (incantations, exorcism). So as we compare class II spirit beings in Mesopotamia with those in Israel, we must consider them in light of the Great Symbiosis and the exercise of power in magic. Role and Nature Akkadian terminology represents class II spirit beings either in corporate groups 16 (for example, utukku, asakku, rabiṣu, šedu) or as individual beings (for example, lamaštu, pazazu, lilitu, and ardat-lili). Descriptions of class II spirits are available throughout the literature. In a piece entitled “The Underworld Vision of an Assyrian Prince,” a vision describes a number of such beings who served as attendants to Nergal in the netherworld (for example, “The Evil Spirit had a lion’s head, his hands and feet were those of Anzu”). 17 All of these are composite beings as is common for the spirits in class II in Mesopotamia. Combining the features of two or more fierce animals made them more dangerous and also indicated their status as on the periphery of the ordered world, that is, they are liminal creatures. 18 Westenholz observes that “The greater the resemblance to human beings the greater the propensity that the demon would be predisposed toward the benefit of humankind.” 19 15.  Magic is understood here as a subset of religion. I am not suggesting that class I is unaffected by magic but only noting the particular associations between magic and class II. See B. T. Arnold, “Divination and Magic,” in Dictionary of Scripture and Ethics (ed. J. B. Green; Grand Rapids: Baker, 2011) 238–42. 16.  Egyptian literature also makes reference to such groups of spirits, generally under the control of the gods. The generic name for them is the seven arrows (šeseru). For extensive summary of the information in Egypt, see D. Meeks, “Demons,” Oxford Encyclopedia of Ancient Egypt (ed. D. Redford; 3 vols.; New York: Oxford University Press, 2001) 1:375–78. 17. A. Livingstone, Court Poetry and Literary Miscellanea (SAA 3; Helsinki: University of Helsinki Press, 1989) 71–72, text 32: r.2–9. 18.  Cunningham, Deliver Me from Evil, 89, indicates their composite nature is symbolic of disorder. 19.  Westenholz, Dragons, 11. She also distinguishes between those that go on four legs, “monsters” and those that go on two “demons.”

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People could overcome demon attacks in a number of ways: (1) regain the favor of their god; (2) call on specialists to exorcise the demon; or (3) use incantations, figurines, amulets or other magical means to enlist the help of guardian spirits (for example, Pazazu against Lamashtu). As already mentioned, class II spirits do not receive sacrifices. Westenholz describes them as “a by-product of creation without a fixed place in the universe. . . . Without a place of their own, they roamed the earth and took by force what they did not get by right; mankind was useless to them and therefore they preyed on humanity without restraint.” 20 In the utukku lemnutu series the incantations are made of the gods, and presumably whatever sacrifices are offered, are offered to them: “I adjure you by the great gods so that you go away.” 21 It should also be noted, however, that the ritual actions, when described, do not generally include sacrifices to the great gods, but ritual acts performed in relation to the patient, 22 and occasionally food and water offerings to the household gods. 23 In tablet 10, the role of Marduk can be observed as he is able to weaken the utukku: he notices the utukku, he gets angry at the utukku, he receives the ritual elements arranged around the patient, and orders the utukku to depart. Class II spirits are thought responsible for disease, plague and all sorts of disasters in the cosmos. 24 They inhabit liminal spaces in sea, earth and sky. 25 One text about the seven deadly Sebetti describes their nature: They are powerful in heaven and earth. They are the waves in the sea, They are the terrors of the marsh. They are the asakku-disease in the canebrake. They are the flaming embers in the forest. They are the evil web in the mouth of a jar, They are the neglected fruit in gardens. 26

Another text describes them as “agent(s) of harm (and) accessories to evil, maliciously ready to commit murder every day.” 27 In contrast to this negative profile, class II spirits are also seen as having a relationship to the gods (class I). They are “born of Anu’s seed” 20.  Ibid., 15. 21.  UL 6:37. 22.  UL 7:10–19. 23.  UL 9:10´. 24.  Westenholz, Dragons, 14. 25.  Ibid., 12. 26.  UL 13:6–15. 27.  UL 16:3–4.

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(UL 5:152), 28 the evil ones of Ea (UL 5:157), throne bearers of gods(UL 5:158), 29 and “messengers of Lord Anu” (UL 16:12). Furthermore, we often find class II spirits as chaos creatures who have been defeated by the gods (class I) 30 and have become their associates. So Wiggermann notes, “For the monsters, outlaws by nature, it is only a small step from the unpredictable servant to rebel, and from rebel to defeated enemy. The role of the god in their relation changes accordingly from master to rightful ruler, and from rightful ruler to victor.” 31 Saggs traces this development through three stages determined by tracing ideas through the literature: (1) they arose from ancient numina acting independently of the gods; (2) they became agents of the gods, and in late literature (3) can be seen as hypostases of the gods or gods themselves. 32 The class II spirits in Mesopotamia can be summarized as powers that can be malevolent or benevolent. Westenholz suggests that they tended to operate independently but when their actions were called to the attention of the gods, they could be quickly brought into line. 33 Thus, we see that they were subordinate to the gods and largely under their control. “The place of these demonic beings in the universe was as mere agents and executors of the will of the gods.” 34 In this sense they would not be considered volitional (defined for our purposes as having wisdom and knowledge and being held accountable for their actions, rather than a simpler definition as being able to take initiative). 35 The texts specifically say that “They have no understanding.” 36 Consequently, Saggs notes that the difference between what we have designated as class II and class I is that divine behavior is purposeful, whereas “demon” behavior is irrational and arbitrary, and even clumsy or ridiculous, but dangerous nonetheless. 37 28.  UL 5:143 says they were “Fashioned in the Netherworld, but spawned in Heaven.” 29.  UL 5:158 recalls the demons portrayed on the nemedu thrones, e.g., Sennacherib’s at Lachish. 30.  F. A. M. Wiggermann, Mesopotamian Protective Spirits: The Ritual Texts (Groningen: Styx, 1992) xii. 31.  Ibid., 153. 32.  H. W. F. Saggs, The Encounter with the Divine in Mesopotamia and Israel (London: Athlone, 1978) 105. 33.  Westenholz, Dragons, 14–15. 34.  Ibid., 14. 35.  In that sense they are more like animals (who act instinctively) rather than robots, which must be programmed and turned on. 36.  UL 5:155. 37.  Saggs, Encounter, 95, citing G. van der Leeuw, Religion in Essence and Manifestation.

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Given the information developed from the sources, we would also conclude that class II beings have no moral agency (defined for our purposes as having the capacity to know whether something is good or bad, and having sufficient freedom to act on that knowledge). They could be called morally neutral or ambiguous, but would be best described as amoral. In terms of volition and moral agency, class II spirits could be compared to wild animals or meteorological phenomena. 38 Nevertheless, questions about moral agency quickly encounter problems of classification in the ancient Near East as we recognize that we may be imposing a category on the culture that they would not have recognized. We might suggest that it is more productive to define beings in relationship to the Great Symbiosis. Instead of a designation like “amoral” we could use “interested benevolence” (purposefully practiced by the gods expecting results) and “disinterested malevolence” (actions of class II). That is, such beings are not acting on the basis of some intrinsic character, but within the confines of the Great Symbiosis. Replacing “good” would be “disinterested benevolence” and replacing “evil” would be “interested malevolence.” In sum, class II spirits in Mesopotamia are liminal beings engaged in disinterested malevolence (opportunism) or interested benevolence (coerced). They exercise power in the human realm subordinate to the gods. They can be resisted or conscripted through magic. They are not part of the Great Symbiosis but operate in juxtaposition to it.

Hebrew Bible Class II Because no general term exists for “demons” in the Hebrew Bible, we will continue to use the established descriptive categories and discuss some of the more ambiguous class II spirit beings. We will begin our study with attention only to the Hebrew terminology rather than getting embroiled in how the LXX, Targums, Vulgate or rabbinic writings rendered those Hebrew terms. The choices made in those later literatures were predicated on their own contemporary world view and interpretations and therefore cannot help but be anachronistic. Like the literature from Mesopotamia, some Hebrew terms refer to groups and others to individual entities. Many of the terms are debatable at one level or another. For example, a few terms are considered to refer to animals that inhabit liminal areas by some interpreters and theriomorphic 38.  Interestingly, in HB usage there is ambiguity and disagreement among scholars concerning whether the key terms refer to class II creatures or wild animals or destructive forces of nature (noted by Jonathan Walton). See discussion of the terms below.

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demons by others. Most notable in this category are the ṣiyyîm (HALOT: “desert creatures”) and the ʾiyyîm (HALOT: “jackels”). 39 In Akkadian texts any class II spirits with theriomorphic characteristics are composites, though they can be described metaphorically as animals, for example, “the owl which screeches in the city.” 40 In ancient Near Eastern iconography, the “Lord/Lady of the Beasts” motif showing animals from liminal realms in the grasp of the deity could potentially identify the animals with class II spirits. 41 Wildberger comments that “one cannot draw sharp distinctions between animals that are sinister, but still recognizable, over against demons.” 42 Holladay, following the same line as Wildberger, concludes that “Given the association of wild animals and demons as expressions of the uncanny, there is no way to determine the meaning of these nouns with precision.” 43 If the biblical text has no references in which words that could and do refer to animals from liminal areas can clearly be seen as spirits, the burden of proof rests on those who want to interpret them that way. Collective abstractions associated with phenomena are also sometimes considered class II spirits (or identified as “demons”). Most prominent among these are deber (HALOT: “bubonic plague”), qeṭeb (HALOT: “disaster”), and rešep (HALOT: “plague”). 44 39.  Ṣiyyîm: Isa 34:14; Jer 50:39 (LXX Isa = daimonion, Vulg. Jer = dragons). H. Wildberger, Isaiah 28–39 (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2002) 315: “demons.” Human enemies in Ps 72:9. Dwellers in liminal areas (deserts, ṣiyyâ). ʾIyyîm: Isa 13:22; 34:14; Jer 50:39. Ibid., 315: “goblins.” Human enemies in Ps 72:10. Dwellers in liminal areas (coastlands, islands). 40.  UL 5:9. 41.  See also the Egyptian palettes that show animals from liminal areas (dog palette, Narmer palette, goring bull). 42.  Wildberger, Isaiah 28–39, 335. 43. W. Holladay, Jeremiah 2 (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989) 421. In Jer 50:39 he translates “goblins and ghouls.” 44.  Deber: Hos 13:14; Hab 3:5; Ps 91:6 (F. Andersen and D. N. Freedman, Hosea [New York: Doubleday, 1980] 640: “Association with demons is palpable in the context,” but notes that the plural form removes from demon association). Note also paḥad layĕlâ, Ps 91:5. Malul, “Terror of the Night,” in DDD, 851–54, considers vv. 5–6 to contain a series of demon names; J. Goldingay, Psalms, Volume 3: Psalms 90–150 (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2008) 45: “Their terms correspond to Middle Eastern ways of describing the activity of hostile gods or demons, and the ancient versions refer explicitly to demons and spirits. But there is no explicit indication of this reference in the context, and it would be unique in the OT, which makes hardly any reference to demons.” Qeṭeb: Deut 32:24; Isa 28:2; Hos 13:14. Rešep: Deut 32:24; Hab 3:5; Ps 76:4; 78:48. J. Tigay (Deuteronomy [Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1996] 309) considers the Deuteronomy passage not to be even literary personification. Andersen considers Hab 3:5 a type scene of deity accompanied by four powerful attendants (though he sees only three, and one of

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One cannot use comparative data to argue that either these creatures or these phenomena must be class II spirits because of their similarity to class II spirits in Mesopotamia. Those in the theriomorphic class (ṣiyyîm and ʾiyyîm) in Israel are neither benevolent nor malevolent. They are not composites. They exercise no power and show no aggression to humanity and they are not associates of deity or instruments used for his work. The only point of contact is that they dwell in liminal areas. This is hardly sufficient for identification. The comparative data would have to be totally imposed on the biblical terms, at which point the claim of similarity would be circular. The collective abstractions associated with phenomena (deber, qeṭeb and rešep) differ in that they are seen as instruments of Yahweh and associated with him to bring negative impact on humanity. 45 In biblical context, however, this is no different than the thunderbolt or the rain. The fact that a commonality of name can be demonstrated in some instances proves nothing because it is possible to have nominal commonality without conceptual similarity (for example, Shemesh/Shamash). Even literary personification of an element of the cosmos (when it can be demonstrated to exist) is not the same thing as viewing that element as a spirit being. Setting these questionable examples aside, then, five terms remain to be considered more seriously (šedîm, śĕ‘irîm, lîlît, ʿazʾazel, and rûaḥ-raʿâ), the first two being groups and the other three, individuals. The terms šedîm, and śĕ‘irîm (goat gods) 46 are the ones most often translated or interpreted as “demons.” The former has a possible Akkadian cognate, šedu, which refers to class II protective spirits. Alternatively, there is a possible Aramaic cognate, šdyn, 47 a group mentioned in the Balaam text from Deir Alla that is seated in the divine council. As participants in an ancient Near Eastern divine council, they would be categorized as gods from Transjordan, and therefore belong to class I. There is no precedent for class II spirits to be equated with the class I members of the divine council, those he provided). Personification here is questionable, and demonization more so. But if they are demons, they are in the Mesopotamian category of those that have been harnessed/commandeered by deity and do his bidding (like those demons that become the associates of the gods). Of course, Resheph is a god in Ugarit and Ebla (Vulg = diabolos). 45.  See the detailed analysis of each in Blair, De-Demonising the Old Testament. 46.  Šedîm: Deut 32:17 (LXX, daimonion); Ps 106:37 (LXX, 105:17 daimonion). Śĕ‘irîm: Isa 13:21 (LXX, daimonion); 34:14; cf. Lev 17:7; 2 Chr 11:15. 47.  But if this is a cognate of Shaddai, as promoted by J. Hackett, The Balaam Text from Deir ʿAlla (HSM 31; Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1984) 85–89, it could not also be cognate with šedîm. The connection with Aramaic is more likely since rabbinic literature also uses Aramaic šdyn as the equivalent to Hebrew šedîm.

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even after they are largely domesticated in later Mesopotamian literature. Since the šedîm in the Hebrew Bible are receiving sacrifices, they have more in common with the class I šdyn from Transjordan than with the class II šedu in Akkadian literature. Transjordanian gods would also be more likely to have been part of the syncretism of the wilderness generation than Babylonian guardian figures. Therefore, šedîm most likely refers to class I spirits from the Mesopotamian side of the ledger, who are illegitimately treated as class I spirits in syncretistic Israel. The śĕ‘irîm, like the šedîm, appear to be objects of worship, receiving sacrifices, which would make them unlike any class II spirits in Mesopotamia (which do not have any associated temples, cult, or priests and do not receive sacrifices). Though it is not uncommon to translate the term “goat gods” or “satyrs” there is no indication that they are composite creatures. The word occurs many other times to refer simply to goats. 48 The case cannot be made that we must consider these to be “demons” (class II) because they fit into what we see in the ancient Near East; they most definitively do not, for not a single aspect matches up with class II from Mesopotamia. They are being treated as class I spirits even though the sacrifices they receive are illegitimate, which puts them in the same category as foreign gods. One might argue based on the NT that the foreign gods are demons, but that equation is post-Hellenistic and whether one accepts that equation ontologically or not, such a connection cannot be made from Hebrew Bible text or through comparative analysis with the ancient Near East. In 1 Cor 10:20, Paul is referring to beliefs of his time that did consider demons the recipients of sacrifices made to idols. Paul’s statement may well be descriptive rather than ontological, but that would need a separate study. If one is considering a contextual understanding of the Hebrew Bible, there is no basis for considering śĕ‘irîm or šedîm to be “demons” or class II spirits in Israelite thinking. With no clearly established demonology in the Hebrew Bible it is also questionable whether we can say that the Israelites believed the foreign gods to be demons. 49 If the textual variant in Deuteronomy 32 reading “Sons of God” rather than “Sons of Israel” is to be preferred, as I think it is, the foreign gods would be associated with the divine council 50 and class II spirits are never part of the divine council. 48.  Of the domesticated variety—never clearly wild goats. 49.  Contrary to the LXX treatment in Ps 95:5; Deut 32:17; Ps 105:37; Isa 65:11; e.g., LXX Ps 95:5 renders the idols (ʾelilîm) as demons (daimonion); cf. 1 Cor 10:20–21; Rev 9:20 and Origen, cf. Russell, Satan, 134. 50. M. Heiser, “Deuteronomy 32:8 and the Sons of God,” BSac 158 (2001) 52–74.

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Individual spirits demonstrate a closer association with class II from Mesopotamia, but even here substantiation is difficult. The first term, lîlît, appears only in Isa 34:14. The support for considering this a class II spirit is found in the Akkadian cognate, lilû/lilitu, which is an identifiable class II spirit. The root Sumerian cognate líl refers to the wind and then to a phantom or ghost (Akk. zaqiqu), which can refer to powerless captured gods or to the dream spirit. Longer Sumerian forms (líl.lá or líl.en.na) find their equivalent in the Akkadian lilitu. It is true that the Hebrew is more likely to be cognate with the Akkadian than the Sumerian, but as we know with cognate terms, it cannot be assumed that they retain or carry the same meaning. In scholarly analysis, it is interesting that the discussion moves from Akkadian to rabbinic and patristic literatures (where there is clear continuity). 51 It remains possible that Isaiah refers to a spirit, but in the context lîlît is not acting in any of the ways that class II spirits operate in Mesopotamia, but instead is associated with creatures (who are not spirits) in liminal areas. 52 Without further information we must hold further specific identification in abeyance. 53 The second individual often classed as a demon is ʿazʾazel from Leviticus 16. Here it is more likely, though still contested on many fronts, that a spirit is intended. 54 The demonic interpretation becomes prominent in Hellenistic Jewish literature (for example, Enoch). But what information does the context offer? It is designated as having a living area (desert), not as having power, not as bringing plague or illness, not as intimidating, and not the object of incantation. 55 In elimination rituals in the ancient world, 51.  Wildberger’s two page discussion contains no citation of any apocryphal or pseudepigraphal occurrences, Isaiah 28–39, 335–37. Handy (“Lilith,” ABD 4:324–25) indicates that the main sources of information are the Talmud (four references) and the Aramaic and Mandaean bowl inscriptions from a Jewish community in Nippur during the 1st millennium a.d. 52.  This same conclusion is reached by J. Blair after an extensive study of the scholarly literature and a close reading of the context. See De-Demonising the Old Testament, 63–95. 53. J. Tigay (Deuteronomy, 258) points out that both blessings and curses are treated almost as personified by virtue of the verbs that are used with them. Nevertheless, he concludes: “Actual personification is absent in Deuteronomy, which avoids any suggestion of independent supernatural powers in addition to God. . . . Instead, the blessings and curses are merely reified and treated as impersonal forces under God’s absolute control.” Similar statements could be made concerning Lilith in Isaiah. 54. B. Janowski takes it as not a person but translates “for the elimination of divine anger” (“Azazel,” DDD, 130). 55. D. Wright, The Disposal of Impurity (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1987) 22: “Caution must be exercised not to presume automatically that as a demon he functions like

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the animal used to carry the offense is not a sacrifice to the demon; 56 it is slaughtered so that the offense dies with it. 57 Rites of elimination do not view the killed animal as being sacrificed because no part of it is given to deity—in fact, it could not be a gift to deity because it is tainted with the evil that has been transferred to it. 58 Wright concludes that Azazel has been stripped of personality and “He represents little more than the place or goal of disposal.” 59 His concluding statement: Azazel does not appear to be an angry deity who needs to be appeased nor a desert demon who is the custodian of evil. The goat, moreover, is not an offering of appeasement, nor is it a substitute to suffer Azazel’s anger or some other evil in the place of the Israelites. The animal merely receives the community’s sins and bears them to a harmless locale. 60

I would further specify that it is not just a harmless locale but one representing a place of disorder—where all offense belongs. The final individual designation that I will discuss is the antagonistic rûaḥ, particularly in 1  Samuel 16 and 1  Kings 22. 61 In these passages the spirit is an entity, but not portrayed as chthonic, liminal, composite or theriomorphic. It is exercising power against humans, thus differentiating it from the other class II Hebrew Bible spirits we have discussed. It is subordinate to God and is employed by him (rather than acting independently). It is not controlled by magic, though David’s harp playing is a response to its influence on Saul. The only question concerning placing it in class II is whether it is a member of the divine council. 1 Samuel 16 offers no information on that point, but 1  Kings 22 has often been considered the passage that most strongly supports the existence of a divine council in Israelite thinking. I do not wish to deny that the divine council is in session in 1 Kings 22, but there could be legitimate question about the status of the rûaḥ relative to demons in similar rites outside biblical culture. Azazel’s demonic nature must be sought primarily within the framework of the Priestly literature. Significantly, this corpus says little about demonic issues.” 56.  Ibid., 24. 57.  Ṭabahu, in UL 12:80; naqu, 12:163; see Cunningham, Deliver Me from Evil, 59. 58. Contrast UL 12:60–61, “make a sacrifice in the daytime, and call out the name of the victim’s personal god,” and note UL 12:151, “may his food-offering approach Shamash.” 59.  Wright, Disposal of Impurity, 25. 60.  Wright, Disposal of Impurity, 72–73. 61.  I will not discuss the possibility of robes in Genesis 4 because the need for textual emendation makes that instances even more questionable than those we have been considering.

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the council. The text indicates that Yahweh was in audience with all the host of heaven standing in attendance (v. 19). This is a larger group than the Sons of God who make up the council, and it is not clear what status the rûaḥ has in that setting. In these contexts, these spirits could be considered malevolent in light of their negative impact on the humans against whom they are sent, but interpreters have not been inclined to label them “demons” because they are sent from Yahweh. This shows how English terminology has developed increasing specificity because all class II spirits in Mesopotamia and in the Hebrew Bible are subordinate to deity and under control when the deity chooses to exercise that control.

Synthesis of Hebrew Bible Data None of the class II spirits in the Hebrew Bible are portrayed as enemies of God. 62 They have no chief, they are not identified as fallen angels. Class II beings include śaṭan, because in Israel neither he nor the “sons of God”/divine council are considered legitimate recipients of sacrifices. 63 But the other class II spirits have no relationship to śaṭan. He neither leads them nor works with them. They do not act as an organized, purposeful group and whatever terrorizing of humans they do, they do as instruments of God’s activity following his orders and working in subordination to him. Even the chaos creatures are created by him and fully under his control. By the definitions that we have used in the discussion of Mesopotamia, some of these Hebrew Bible class II beings could be considered marginally volitional (for example, the rûaḥ in 1 Kings who takes initiative to offer a suggestion, or śaṭan), though most have no activities associated with them (šedîm, śĕʿirîm, lîlît, ʿazʾazel, ṣiyyîm, and ʾiyyîm). Regarding those who are active, one could not categorize the behavior of rûaḥ or śaṭan as arbitrary or irrational. Most in the category can likewise not be considered independent moral agents. Most have no moral role, and those that become involved in God’s moral agency (rûaḥ, and, arguably, śaṭan) act only as agents of deity and are morally neutral, intrinsically neither benevolent nor malevolent. The fact is that most supernatural beings in the ancient and classical world, including the high gods, were morally ambiguous to our way of thinking. 64 62.  One possible exception to this is the reference to the Princes of Persia and Greece in Dan 10:20. 63.  Here, we should note that members of the divine council in Mesopotamia are class I and receive sacrifices, whereas in Israel they are class II. 64.  By this, I am referring to behavior that can be irrational or arbitrary or that lacks integrity. As part of the Great Symbiosis, they have no disinterested goodness or

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That is to say, they are either involved in the Great Symbiosis and are practicing “interested benevolence” (not morality) or are not involved in the Great Symbiosis and are engaged in disinterested malevolence (not moral evil). 65 Class II spirits in the Hebrew Bible show no exercise of power either malevolent or benevolent. They are not combatants and are not engaged in opportunism. They can occasionally terrify, but they do not possess (with the possible exception 1 Samuel 16) or tempt. They are not connected to disease and not controlled by practitioners through exorcism or incantations. 66 No magic is connected to them and since the Great Symbiosis has been discredited and rejected in Israelite theology as represented in the Hebrew Bible, there is no relationship between these spirits and that system. “Demonology” as it is represented by class II spirits in the ancient Near East has no prominence in Hebrew Bible, because these spirits in the ancient Near East cannot be separated from the world of magic and incantations. The conceptual continuum associated with class II in Mesopotamia tracks with the conceptual continuum of magic, and therefore both would be contrary to legitimate Israelite theology. Furthermore, legitimate Israelite theology contains no renegade spirit beings or opponents vying with Yahweh for control. The only form of opposition comes from those who promote the gods of the nations as class I spirits (for example, Ahab and Jezebel). In legitimate Israelite theology, spirits in all three classes are viewed as powerless except as instruments of Yahweh. In biblical texts, God might send disease or famine or enemies as punishment for evil or unfaithfulness, or he might protect a person from those attacks, but all of these are viewed as operating entirely under the control of Yahweh. 67 benevolence. Yahweh is not part of the Great Symbiosis and is characterized by a disinterested benevolence (noted by Jonathan Walton). 65.  Yahweh, being outside the Great Symbiosis, practices disinterested benevolence—that is, he does not gain benefit from the good things he does, nor does he get something in return. He is not compelled by an outside force. He does not act thus because people deserve it or because order requires it. Yahweh does not even “require” order; he upholds it for the sake of the humans (who do require it), but is capable of bringing it down, as in the flood, with no consequence to himself (noted by Jonathan Walton). 66.  In 1 Samuel 28, Samuel’s spirit (ʾĕlôhîm) is called up through the magical procedures connected with necromancy, but it is not subject to incantations or exorcism and does not act either benevolently or malevolently. Furthermore, of course, it is a class III spirit who used to be alive. See B. T. Arnold, “Necromancy and Cleromancy in 1 and 2 Samuel,” CBQ 66 (2004) 199–213. 67.  Even the divine abandonment motif in Ezekiel or Lamentations does not simply expose Israel to independent spirits. Yahweh is still in control of those nations (with their gods) who attack.

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In conclusion, I would tentatively propose that Hellenistic Judaism was heavily influenced by the power-oriented class II perspective of ancient Mesopotamia combined with the movements toward dualism, perhaps brought about in relationship with Zoroastrianism. The conceptual world of Hellenism’s daimon/daimonion was then read back onto the Hebrew Bible, and eventually rabbinic, patristic and medieval demonology was read back and imposed on top of that. In recent treatments of doctrine it is either this anachronistic reading, or an imperialistic reading from the ancient Near Eastern world that is imposed on the Hebrew Bible texts, with the result that its conceptual world is distorted. A separate study is needed to trace the ways in which understanding of class II beings developed in the New Testament and how 1st-century Judaism and Christianity imposed their ways of thinking on the Hebrew Bible. Table 2 maps out some of the development.

Class II (random)

Class II Class III (?)

None

Class III (burial and nourishment)

Interested malevolence (evil)

Class I Yahweh (no Great Symbiosis) None (?)

None

Disinterested benevolence (good)

Class I (Great Symbiosis) Class III (?)

Class I (Great Symbiosis) Class III (nourishment) None (no Great Symbiosis)

Interested benevolence (amoral)

Class II (instruments of Yahweh) Class II (?)

Class II (compelled by god/ magic)

Non-agents (under compulsion)

Class II Attendant Weapons

None

Fate

Class II daimon (e.g., Asmodeus) Class II daimon Class II Satan, Demons, Fallen Angels Class II Satan, Demons, Fallen Angels, Idols Class I Triune Godhead

Class I Triune Godhead

None

Class I Yahweh

Class II: Angels Class III: Saints (status?)

Class I: Gods Class II: daimon Class II Angels

Class II aggelos

■■ “Disposition” refers to agency, thus the negative category of non-agents with no disposition, i.e., not independent agents ■■ “Malevolence” and “benevolence” must be measured by the intended sum result at the stated level of agency ■■ “Interest” means the action is motivated by benefits to be gained at the stated level of agency

Notes concerning terminology:

Patristic Period

New Testament

Greco-Roman

Hellenistic Judaism, Weapons Rabbinic Literature

Class II Attendant

Class II Angels, Apocalyptic Figures None

None (?)

Class II aggelos

Israel (syncretistic) Great Symbiosis system collapses; Ontological categories defined (e.g., Plato); Taxonomy categories disrupted; Dualistic ideas introduced

Israel (orthodox)

Mesopotamia

Class II (random)

Disinterested malevolence (amoral)

Table 2.  Disposition of Spirit Beings (John Walton and Jonathan Walton)

246 John H. Walton

The Literary Structure of Judges Revisited Judges as a Ring Composition Kenneth C. Way Introduction There is a virtual consensus in recent scholarship that the book of Judges has a tripartite structure: there are a clear introduction (1:1–3:6), body (3:7–16:31), and conclusion (17:1–21:25). 1 Additionally, since the early 1980s many scholars have observed thematic and semantic connections between the introduction and the conclusion. For example, Gooding demonstrated that there is a two part introduction which corresponds to a two part conclusion, together forming the pattern A-B-B′-A′ (1:1–2:5; 2:6– 3:6; 17:1–18:31; 19:1–21:25). 2 This observation has been developed more Author’s Note: It is a great personal honor to offer this study as a tribute to my teacher, Professor Samuel Greengus. His indelible impact extends not only to my formation as a scholar (in the study of biblical and cuneiform texts and in the completion of my dissertation, Donkeys in the Biblical World) but also to the formation of my character as he consistently modeled extraordinary wisdom with humility in his pedagogy. I want to thank the following individuals for their constructive input on this study: Tom Finley, Ed Morsey, Mike Sanborn, Mark Saucy, John Walton, and Lori Way. This study was also presented at the SBL Annual Meeting in San Francisco, November, 2011. 1.  E.g., see Y. Amit, The Book of Judges: The Art of Editing (Leiden: Brill, 1999); E.  Assis, Self-Interest or Communal Interest: An Ideology of Leadership in the Gideon, Abimelech and Jephthah Narratives (Judg 6–12) (Leiden: Brill, 2005) 130; D. I. Block, Judges, Ruth (Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 1999) 73; D. A. Dorsey, The Literary Structure of the Old Testament: A Commentary on Genesis–Malachi (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1999) 105; V. H. Matthews, Judges and Ruth (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004) 6; J. C. McCann, Judges (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2002); R. H. O’Connell, The Rhetoric of the Book of Judges (Leiden: Brill, 1996) 58–267; D. T. Olson, “The Book of Judges” in The New Interpreter’s Bible (ed. L. E. Keck; Nashville: Abingdon, 1998) 2:728–29; L. G. Stone, “Judges, Book of ” in Dictionary of the Old Testament: Historical Books (ed. B. T. Arnold and H. G. M. Williamson; Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2005) 592; B. G. Webb, The Book of the Judges (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1987) 34–35, 197; G. J. Wenham, Story as Torah: Reading Old Testament Narrative Ethically (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2000) 47–69; K. L. Younger, Judges, Ruth (NIVAC; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2002) 30, 49. 2. D. W. Gooding, “The Composition of the Book of Judges,” ErIsr 16 (ed. B. Levine and A. Malamat; Orlinsky volume; Jerusalem: Ben Zvi, 1982) 70*–79*.

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recently by commentators such as Younger, who summarizes the literary relationships of the outer framework as follows: A Foreign wars of subjugation with the ḥērem being applied (1:1–2:5) B Difficulties with foreign religious idols (2:6–3:6) B′ Difficulties with domestic religious idols (17:1–18:31) A′ Domestic wars with the ḥērem being applied (19:1–21:25) 3

Gooding furthermore suggested that the arrangement of the entire book is intentionally chiastic and that the Gideon narrative (6:1–8:32) functions as the central pivot. A Introduction Part 1 (1:1–2:5) B Introduction Part 2 (2:6–3:6) C Othniel (3:7–11) D Ehud (plus Shamgar) (3:12–31) E Deborah, Barak, Jael (4:1–5:31) F Gideon (6:1–8:32) E′ Abimelech (plus Tola, Jair) (8:33–10:5) D′ Jephthah (plus Ibzan, Elon, Abdon) (10:6–12:15) C′ Samson (13:1–16:31) B′ Epilogue Part 1 (17:1–18:31) A′ Epilogue Part 2 (19:1–21:25) 4

While Gooding’s suggestion about this macrostructure of Judges is occasionally acknowledged by commentators, 5 the concept remains underap3.  Younger, Judges, Ruth, 31; cf. idem, “Judges 1 in Its Near Eastern Literary Context” in Faith, Tradition, and History: Old Testament Historiography in Its Near Eastern Context (ed. A. R. Millard, J. K. Hoffmeier, and D. W. Baker; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1994) 222–25. 4.  Adapted from Gooding, “Composition,” 77*–78*. 5. E.g., Block, Judges, Ruth, 49 n. 128; T. Butler, Judges (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2009) li, liv, lxii, 372; I. Provan, V. P. Long, and T. Longman, A Biblical History of Israel (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2003) 159–61; Younger, Judges, Ruth, 32 n. 36. The few scholars who go beyond a mere acknowledgement of Gooding and attempt to expand/improve on his observations include D. A. Dorsey (Literary Structure, 105–20), B. G. Webb (The Book of the Judges, 34–35, 123, 220, 243, 255, 257) and G. T. K. Wong (Compositional Strategy of the Book of Judges: An Inductive, Rhetorical Study [Leiden: Brill, 2006] 11–12, 22, 28, 80–81, 157). It should be noted that many scholars concur with Gooding’s conclusion that the Gideon narrative serves a central or pivotal role in the book; see Amit, The Book of Judges, 263, 266; Assis, Self-Interest, 129; W. Bluedorn, Yahweh Versus Baalism: A Theological Reading of the Gideon-Abimelech Narrative (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001) 18, 37, 279; J. C. Exum, “The Centre Cannot Hold: Thematic and Textual Instabilities in Judges” CBQ 52 (1990) 412, 418; L. R. Klein, The Triumph of Irony in the Book of Judges (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1988) 50; B. Lindars, Judges 1–5 (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1995) 126; McCann, Judges, 62; D. T.

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Fig. 1. Ring structure of the book of Judges

preciated in scholarship. As a result, the many interpretive implications of such a structure are also underdeveloped in scholarship. The anthropologist Mary Douglas recently made a significant contribution to our understanding of complex chiastic devices in eastern Mediterranean literature. In her book, Thinking in Circles, she calls these patterns “ring compositions.” 6 While she has identified ring structures in many short biblical passages (for example, Genesis 22), she is most known for theorizing that the entire book of Numbers is arranged in a ring. 7 Based on Olson, “Buber, Kingship, and the Book of Judges: A Study of Judges 6–9 and 17–21” in David and Zion: Biblical Studies in Honor of J. J. M. Roberts (ed. B. F. Batto and K. L. Roberts; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2004) 200, 206, 210; J. P. Tanner, “The Gideon Narrative as the Focal Point of Judges” BSac 149 (1992) 146–61; Younger, Judges, Ruth, 167; cf., M. Buber, Kingship of God (New York: Harper & Row, 1967) 70. 6. M. Douglas, Thinking in Circles: An Essay on Ring Composition (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2007). Note that ring compositions are also employed by a number of modern authors, such as J. K. Rowling in her Harry Potter series (see J. Granger, “Harry Is Here to Stay,” Christianity Today [July 2011] 52). 7.  For Genesis 22, see Douglas, Thinking in Circles, 18–26. For the book of Numbers, see idem, In the Wilderness: The Doctrine of Defilement in the Book of Numbers (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993), esp. p.  118; cf., idem, Thinking in Circles, 43–71. Interestingly, the similarities between the books of Numbers and Judges are not only structural but also thematic (emphasis on cyclical patterns, transitional periods, Israelite apostasy, and divine retribution/mercy). The book of Leviticus also exhibits

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her exposition of the essential components of a ring composition, I suggest here that the entire book of Judges also follows the same pattern (see fig. 1). Recognition of this structure in Judges is foundational for comprehending the many thematic connections between the parallel accounts of Othniel/ Samson, Ehud/Jephthah, and Deborah/Abimelech. It is also demonstrated here that the rhetoric and themes that characterize the prologue and epilogue are amply revisited in the centrally located Gideon narrative.

Judges as a Ring Composition According to Douglas, there are seven characteristics of a ring. Each of these characteristics will be described and examined in light of the data from the book of Judges. The first characteristic is the exposition or prologue. This section “states the theme and introduces the main characters. . . . It sets the stage . . . it is laid out so as to anticipate the mid-turn and the ending that will eventually respond to it.” 8 In the prologue of Judges (1:1–3:6), the primary concepts that are introduced are Israel’s military and religious failures with respect to the tribes, leadership, covenant and the cyclical pattern of apostasy, oppression and God’s deliverance through a leader. 9 The prologue theologically “sets the stage” for the series of stories that comprise the body of the book of Judges (3:7–16:31). The relationships between the prologue, mid-turn, and ending are specifically treated below in discussions of the fifth and seventh characteristics. Second, ring compositions are split into two halves (1:1–7:25 and 8:1– 21:25): “If the end is going to join the beginning the composition will at some point need to make a turn toward the start . . . an imaginary line . . . characteristics of a ring composition (see idem, “Poetic Structure in Leviticus” in Pomegranates and Golden Bells [ed. D. P. Wright, D. N. Freedman, and A. Hurvitz; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1995] 239–56), but it is more precise to interpret it as an example of “figure poetry” that projects the pattern of the tabernacle (see idem, Thinking in Circles, x, 131–34; idem, Leviticus as Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999). 8.  Idem, Thinking in Circles, 36. 9.  I prefer a minimalist analysis of the cyclical pattern that recognizes three basic stages: (1) Israel does evil by serving foreign gods (2:11–13); (2) the Lord responds by giving Israel over to foreign oppressors (2:14–15) and then by (3) graciously delivering Israel by raising up a “judge” (2:16–18), which is often God’s compassionate response to Israel’s “groaning” (2:18). Finally, after the judge died, Israel would not change its stubborn ways and would go deeper into apostasy than before (2:19), and the cycle would repeat itself. The cyclical pattern of apostasy, oppression, and deliverance in 2:11–19 expresses not a modern but an ancient understanding of historiography that places a high value on recurrence and endurance (see J. H. Walton, Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament [Grand Rapids: Baker, 2006] 222–23).

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divides the work into two halves, the first, outgoing, the second, returning.” 10 The deliverer stories in the first half of the book (Othniel, Ehud, Deborah/Barak) are depicted in a relatively positive light, whereas those of the second half are decidedly negative (Abimelech, Jephthah, Samson). 11 The transitional account of Gideon is a mixed portrayal of both positive/ ambiguous and negative elements. 12 Stone has rightly observed that the body of Judges moves from triumph (3:7–7:25) to tragedy (8:1–16:31), with the shift occurring in the middle of the Gideon narrative. 13 It is also noteworthy that, in the first half of the book (including the transitional account of Gideon), the land is said to have rested x-number of years (3:11, 30; 5:31; 8:28), whereas in the second half leaders are merely said to rule/ judge x-number of years (9:22; 12:7; 16:31) and the land apparently has no rest. The periods of tranquility in the first half are always a full generation (that is, 40 years) or more, whereas the periods of ruling/judging in the second half are always less than a generation. Third, ring compositions have parallel sections: “Each section on one side has to be matched by its corresponding pair on the other side.” 14 When the first three accounts (that is, the first “triad”) are compared with the final three accounts (that is, the second “triad”) in the body of Judges, many interesting rhetorical and thematic correspondences come to light (3:7–11 // 13:1–16:31; 3:12–31 // 10:6–12:15; 4:1–5:31 // 9:1–10:5). These can be summarized as follows. A.  Othniel and Samson: (1) Both accounts have a southern geographical orientation (1:11–15; 13:1–16:31). 15 (2) Marriages play a pivotal role in the outcome for both accounts (1:12–15; 14:1–15:20). Othniel marries within his tribe (this incident plays a positive role in the conquest of Debir/ Kiriath-sepher), while Samson marries a Timnite outsider (which plays a negative role in the conquest of Philistia). 16 (3) The tribe of Judah is depicted positively (conquering the enemy) in 1:11–15 and 3:9–11 and negatively 10.  Douglas, Thinking in Circles, 36. 11. See Assis, Self-Interest or Communal Interest, 127–30. 12. See Olson, “Buber, Kingship and the Book of Judges,” 206, 210, 216. 13.  Stone, “Judges, Book of,” 592, 601. 14.  Douglas, Thinking in Circles, 36. 15. Although Othniel subdues an apparently northern oppressor (Cushan-­ Rishathaim of Aram-Naharaim), his affiliation is clearly with the tribe of Judah in the south (cf. 1:11–15). It may be noteworthy that some scholars favor the possibility that Cushan-Rishathaim was an oppressor from the southeast (e.g., see B. J. Beitzel, The New Moody Atlas of the Bible [Chicago: Moody, 2009] 137; A. F. Rainey and R. S. Notley, The Sacred Bridge: Carta’s Atlas of the Biblical World [Jerusalem: Carta, 2006] 136). 16. See Gooding, “Composition,” 73*–74*; M. A. Sweeney, “Davidic Polemics in the Book of Judges,” VT 47 (1997) 523, 527.

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(capitulating to the enemy) in 15:9–13. 17 (4) Othniel is a foreigner 18 who assimilates into Israel (Judah) while Samson is an Israelite (Danite) who assimilates into Philistia (1:12–15; 3:9, 11; 14:1–3, 7, 10; 15:1, 10–11; 16:1, 4, 30; cf., 3:6). (5) The Othniel account closes with 40 years of tranquility (3:11) while the Samson account opens with 40 years of oppression (13:1). 19 B.  Ehud and Jephthah: (1) Both accounts have an eastern geographical orientation dealing with Transjordanian oppressors (the descendants of Lot—Moab and Ammon, respectively). (2) In both accounts, the Israelite leader brings a message to a foreign king (3:15–25; 11:12–28). (3) Both accounts feature an 18-year oppression (3:14; 10:8). (4) Both accounts relate the role of Ephraimites at the fords of the Jordan—positively aiding Ehud in smiting the enemy (3:27–29) and negatively opposing Jephthah and being slaughtered by the Gileadites (12:1–6). Between the extremes of these two events (and precisely at the center of the book), the Ephraimites both cooperate and clash with Gideon, who is able finally to placate them through diplomacy (7:24–8:3). 20 (5) Both accounts may depict forms of human sacrifice: the Moabite king Eglon may be viewed as a sacrificial victim (note the allusive terminology in 3:17, 22), and the Israelite daughter of Jephthah tragically becomes a burnt offering (11:31). 21 C.  Deborah/Barak and Abimelech: The themes which are common to both accounts are as follows: (1) Both stories have a northern geographical orientation (note especially the absence of any mention of Judah/Simeon in chs. 4–5). (2) Resolution is achieved by the heroic efforts of a woman independently killing the villain by a blow to his head with an unconventional weapon (4:21; 5:26; 9:53). 22 (3) Both stories blend poetic quotations (song and fable, respectively, in 5:1–31 and 9:7–20) with the events of the 17. See Block, Judges, Ruth, 57, 140, 443–44. 18.  Whether the phrase “son of Kenaz” (3:11; cf., Josh 15:17) indicates that Othniel’s father is Kenaz or that Othniel is a descendant of Kenaz is difficult to ascertain (see Younger, Judges, Ruth, 66–67 n. 17), but it is clear that the ethnicity of Caleb, Othniel, and Achsah is non-Israelite and that this family was assimilated into the tribe of Judah. It appears that the narrator is emphasizing the foreignness of Othniel (1:13; 3:9, 11) in order to bring a subtle indictment on the tribe of Judah by noting that the ideal deliverer, although representing the tribe of Judah, is ironically a proselyte. There were apparently no good candidates from ethnic Judah (cf., Block, Judges, Ruth, 150 n. 15)! 19. See Olson, “Buber, Kingship and the Book of Judges,” 206. 20.  See J. G. Williams, “The Structure of Judges 2.6–16.31,” JSOT 49 (1991) 81, 82. 21.  For some discussion about the sacrificial allusions for Eglon, see R. Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative (New York: Basic Books, 1981) 39. I must thank Michael Sanborn (personal communication, June 2011) for pointing out human sacrifice as a possible thematic parallel between the Ehud and Jephthah pericopes. 22.  The ignominious manner of Sisera’s death, which parallels that of Abimelech

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prose narratives. Like the literary function of Jotham’s fable in the narrative, which follows about Abimelech, the song of Deborah/Barak (ch. 5) is complementary to the previous narrative account (ch. 4). (4) Both stories conspicuously omit reference to a solo human judge/deliverer so that God’s role is elevated. 23 In addition to these four themes, there are also some important contrasts in these parallel accounts. First, the enemy in chs. 4–5 is external/ Canaanite, whereas the enemy in ch. 9 is internal/Israelite (Gideon’s sons etc.). Second, while both stories are about proper leadership, the former story shows Barak hesitating to take leadership when he should, 24 and the latter story shows Abimelech taking leadership when he should not. Third, Jael’s extreme acts of altruism and “communal interest” are sharply contrasted with Abimelech’s extreme acts of narcissism and “self-interest.” 25 Fourth, ring compositions have indicators to mark individual sections: “Some method for marking the consecutive units of structure is technically necessary. . . . Key words . . . specific signals to indicate beginnings or endings of the sections . . . repeating a refrain . . . alternation.” 26 The sections are clearly indicated in Judges primarily through the inclusion of formulaic opening refrains and concluding summaries (3:7 with 3:11; 3:12 with 3:30; 4:1 with 5:31; 6:1 with 8:28–32; 10:6 with 12:7; 13:1 with 16:31). The opening and closing indicators for the Abimelech narrative, while clearly marked (8:33–35 and 9:22–24, 56–57), are different in form from the other narratives. The reference to the Israelites relapsing and whoring after the Baals (8:33) is thus a variant form of the refrain that is likely employed by the narrator for intensified rhetorical effect (characterizing the second half of the book by apostasy). (9:53), may also be appreciated in light of the common Egyptian depictions of Pharaoh smashing the head of his enemy (see Younger, Judges, Ruth, 155). 23.  For this emphasis in the Deborah/Barak narrative, see Amit’s insightful remarks, The Book of Judges, 199, 203–4, 209–10, 213–20 (esp. pp. 214–18). 24.  When Deborah tells Barak about God’s commissioning (4:6–7), he immediately presents his own terms (possibly doubting God’s word; cf. 4:8), and Deborah reveals that Barak has therefore forfeited the “honor” because of the “course” he has taken (4:9). Barak should have been the military “hero” in this story, but alas he is no Ehud and he is certainly no Othniel. So, along with Barak’s reluctant service, God unexpectedly employs the contributions of two women (and one of them is a foreigner!). In the end, however, none of the participants can claim the victory for themselves. The divine king is clearly the commander-in-chief (4:6, 14), and the victory belongs to him alone (4:7, 9, 14, 15, 23). 25.  The terms communal interest and self-interest are borrowed from Assis, Self-­ Interest or Communal Interest. 26.  Douglas, Thinking in Circles, 36–37.

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Table 1.  Correspondence between Central Pivot and Peripheral Frame A B B Center of A Ring A B B Epilogue A Prologue

Israel Fights Enemies (1:1–2:5) Israel Faces Idolatry (2:6–3:6) Gideon Faces Idolatry (6:1–32) Gideon Fights Enemies (6:33–7:25) Gideon Fights Israel (8:1–21) Gideon Forges Idolatry (8:22–32) Israel Forges Idolatry (17:1–18:31) Israel Fights Israel (19:1–21:25)

Fifth, ring compositions have central loading (6:1–8:32): The “middle . . . uses some of the same key word clusters that were found in the exposition. As the ending also accords with the exposition, the mid-turn tends to be in concordance with them both.” 27 The Gideon account serves as a transitional pivot for the entire book and its themes clearly echo those of both the prologue and epilogue (see table 1). Notice especially how both enemies and idolatry transition from the outside to the inside of Israel in both the Gideon story as well as in the outer frame. The Gideon story divides into four units (6:1–32; 6:33–7:25; 8:1–21; 8:22–32). The themes of the first and second units are revisited in reverse/ chiastic order in the third and fourth units. The first and fourth units focus on religious matters in Gideon’s hometown of Ophrah (the place name is only mentioned in the Gideon story at 6:11, 24; 8:27, 32). The second and third units focus on the battle with the Midianites: note how the Midianites are described as “fallen” (nōplîm; 7:12; 8:10; cf., 20:46) and the stories each conclude with the dispatch of a pair of leaders (Oreb and Zeeb; Zebah and Zalmunna). Furthermore, the first and second units complement the two-part prologue of Judges, while the third and fourth units complement the two-part epilogue of Judges, also in reverse/chiastic order. The battles and idolatry that are recounted in the prologue and in the first half (that is, the first and second units) of the Gideon story are portrayed as external/foreign problems, whereas the idolatry and battles in the second half of the Gideon story and in the epilogue are portrayed as internal/domestic problems. The rhetorical and thematic connections between the four units of the Gideon story and the outer frame are noted as follows. A. 6:1–32 and 2:6–3:6: (1) Both contain a review of the exodus traditions (2:1, 12; 6:8–9, 13). (2) Both contain the indictment that Israel has 27.  Ibid., 37.

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disobeyed God’s voice (2:2; 6:10). 28 (3) Both concern the problem of idolatry—especially Baal worship (2:3, 11–13, 17, 19; 3:6; 6:10, 25–32). (4) Both feature the appearance of the angel of the Lord (2:1–4; 6:11–22). (5) Both emphasize God’s presence (2:18; 6:12, 16; cf., 1:19, 22). 29 (6) Both recall God’s works on Israel’s behalf (2:7, 10; 6:13). (7) Both refer to the tearing down of altars (2:2; 6:25–32). (8) Both refer to the people’s rejection of God’s leader (2:17; 6:29–30). B. 6:33–7:25 and 1:1–2:5: (1) Both recount Israel’s confrontation with external military threats. (2) Both emphasize that victory comes from the Lord (1:2, 4, 7, 19, 22; 6:36–37; 7:2, 7, 9, 14–15, 22; cf., 6:16). (3) Both feature the employment of war oracles (1:1–2; 6:36–7:15)—a theme that is also prominent in the second epilogue (see 20:18, 23, 27–28). 30 This unit is also juxtaposed to 8:1–21, which continues the military focus of ch. 7 but shifts to an internal orientation. Thus, in the ring structure of the book of Judges, this pericope (that is, 6:33–7:25) serves as the final account for the first half of the book. C. 8:1–21 and 19:1–21:25: Both passages feature stories of vengeful retribution and the slaughter of Israelites. 31 Additionally, Gideon’s tactics in 8:14–16 are reminiscent of those used for taking the city of Bethel in the first prologue (1:23–26). 32 D. 8:22–32 and 17:1–18:31: Both passages focus on aberrant religious practices and the construction of an ʾēpôd (note that the ʾēpôd is only mentioned in the book of Judges at 8:27; 17:5; 18:14–20). 33 Sixth, ring compositions may also feature rings within rings: “[T]he major ring may be internally structured by little rings. . . . A large book 28.  The reference in 2:2 is technically part of the first prologue (1:1–2:5) but 2:1–5 also serves a transitional function and therefore introduces themes of the second prologue (see Webb, The Book of the Judges, 102). 29.  While the first half of the Gideon story (as well as the first half of the book, chs.  1–7) emphasizes God’s power and presence, God’s absence is the predominant theme of the second half of the Gideon story (and of the second half of the book, chs. 8–21). 30.  For additional thematic parallels between Judges 7 and 20 see Exum, “The Centre Cannot Hold,” 430. 31. See Wong, Compositional Strategy,129. 32.  In both instances, representatives from the tribe of Joseph interrogate a man of the city in order to obtain strategic intelligence. The difference, however, is that Bethel was a Canaanite city and the Lord with “with them” (1:22), while Succoth appears to be Israelite at this time and an overt reference to God’s presence with Gideon is lacking. 33.  For additional discussion about the similarities between these two pas­sages, see D. M. Sharon, “Echoes of Gideon’s Ephod: An Intertextual Reading” JANES 30 (2006) 99–100.

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often contains many small rings. They may come from different sources, times, and authors.” 34 Smaller rings are in fact quite prominent in Judges. Many literary scholars, such as Amit, Dorsey, Exum, O’Connell, Webb, and Younger, have identified complex chiastic structures—many of which may qualify as “rings”—in many passages of the book. 35 The Gideon story, as demonstrated in the above analysis, is perhaps the most extensive example of a “ring within a ring” as it clearly displays an A-B-B′-A′ structure. 36 Seventh, ring compositions have closure at two levels (1:1–3:6; 17:1– 21:25): “By joining up with the beginning, the ending unequivocally signals completion . . . by using some conspicuous key words from the exposition. . . . Most importantly, there also has to be thematic correspondence.” 37 The themes of Israel’s military and religious failures saturate the outer framework of Judges and many key words/phrases are made apparent in the following observations: A. 1:1–2:5 and 19:1–21:25: (1) Both emphasize the leadership of the tribe of Judah (1:1–2; 20:18). (2) Both employ the key verb “to go up” (1:1– 4, 16, 22; 2:1; 20:3, 18, 23, 26, 28, 30–31; 21:5, 8). (3) Both document instances of oracular inquiries to Yhwh (1:1; 18:5; 20:18, 23, 27). 38 (4) Both feature the role of women/wives (1:11–15; 19:1–30; 21:1–25). 39 (5) Both show the application of the ban (1:17; 21:11). (6) Both give attention to all Israel (1:1–2:5; 20:1–21:25). Also, both passages mention (7) Jerusalem/ 34.  Douglas, Thinking in Circles, 37. 35. See passim in Amit, The Book of Judges; Dorsey, Literary Structure, 105–20; J. C. Exum, “Aspects of Symmetry and Balance in the Samson Saga,” JSOT 19 (1981) 3–29; O’Connell, Rhetoric; Webb, The Book of the Judges; Younger, Judges, Ruth. Some fine examples of smaller rings (or at least chiasms) can be identified in 4:1–24 and 17:1–13 (see my Teach the Text: Judges [Grand Rapids: Baker, forthcoming]). It should be noted here that the key distinction between a mere chiasm and a ring composition is “the loading of meaning on the center and the connections made between the center and the beginning [/ending]” (Douglas, Thinking in Circles, 32). 36.  Gooding was apparently the first to make this observation (“Composition,” 74*, 78*). 37.  Douglas, Thinking in Circles, 37–38. 38.  See also the second unit of the Gideon narrative (in 6:36–7:15). For an informative background study on this motif, see J. M. Sasson, “Oracle Inquiries in Judges” in Birkat Shalom, Studies in the Bible, Ancient Near Eastern Literature, and Postbiblical Judaism: Presented to Shalom M. Paul on the Occasion of His Seventieth Birthday (ed. C. Cohen et al.; 2 vols.; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2008) 1:149–68. 39.  See T. J. Schneider, “Achsah, the Raped Pîlegeš, and the Book of Judges” in E. A. McCabe, Women in the Biblical World (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 2009) 43–57.

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Jebus (1 :7, 8, 21; 19:10–12), (8) Bethel (1:22–26; 20:18, 26, 31; 21:2, 19), and (9) weeping and sacrifice (2:4–5; 20:23, 26; 21:2, 4). 40 B. 2:6–3:6 and 17:1–18:31: Both of these passages are about religious failure (that is, Israelite apostasy). The second prologue focuses on the problem as an external/foreign tendency (that is, idolatry from the outside), while the first epilogue focuses on the problem as an internal/domestic tendency (that is, idolatry from the inside) that has become the new norm. Also, both passages emphasize the pattern of generational drift away from Yahweh (2:10; 18:30).

Additional Considerations These seven characteristics of ring compositions—as defined by Douglas—are all demonstrably present in the book of Judges. This is not surprising given the common employment of the term cycle to describe the patterns evident in this period of Israel’s history. But the term cycle, or even the term ring, may not actually go far enough in characterizing the structure of the book of Judges. On both the micro and the macro levels (that is, regarding the smaller rings and the comprehensive ring) there is a movement from positive to negative portrayals—either from good/ambiguous to bad or from bad to worse. Thus the term spiral has also been used appropriately to characterize the book (see 2:19). 41 The beginning of the ring (prologue) is on a higher moral/political plane than the end of the ring (epilogue), just as the first triad of judges is higher than the second triad, and as the early Gideon stories are higher than the later stories. Therefore it may be said that the structure of the book of Judges when viewed from the side reveals a spiral, whereas the structure when viewed from the top or from the bottom reveals a ring. 42 This descending progression is even demonstrated in themes such as the changing portrayal of women in the book, ranging from honorable (Othniel’s wife in ch. 1) to horrific (Benjamite wives in ch. 21). 43 An­other 40.  Additionally, the mention of dispersing “each to his inheritance” is in both the prologue and the epilogue (2:6; 21:24), but this repetition cannot be used as proper evidence for the parallelism of 1:1–2:5 and 19:1–21:25. 41.  E.g., see Dorsey, Literary Structure, 105, 107, 120; J. H. Walton and A. E. Hill, Old Testament Today (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2004) 191; Webb, The Book of the Judges, 112. 42.  This can be illustrated with an object like a lock washer or a Slinky. 43.  For helpful surveys on this theme, see S. Ackerman, Warrior, Dancer, Seductress, Queen: Women in Judges and Biblical Israel (New York: Doubleday, 1998); D. I. Block, “Unspeakable Crimes: The Abuse of Women in the Book of Judges” SBJT 2/3

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example of the downward spiral is seen in the theme of God’s presence, which is unmistakably prominent in the early accounts (chs. 1–7) and ominously ambiguous or absent in the later accounts (chs. 8–21). 44 This dark impression of early Israel that is painted in Judges has been aptly described by Block as “the Canaanization of Israel.” 45 The movement from positive to negative presentations is also evident in the proportion of verbiage that the narrator devotes to each literary unit. Thus, Younger astutely observes: “the amount of verbiage attached to each major/cyclical judge is generally proportional to his or her spiritual or moral quality: the more moral, the less verbiage; the less moral, the greater the verbiage.” 46 This observation certainly characterizes the sequence of the six major parallel stories of the ring structure. The best and shortest account (Othniel) is eclipsed by that of Ehud, which is eclipsed by Deborah/Barak, which is eclipsed by Abimelech, which is eclipsed by Jephthah, which is finally eclipsed by the worst and longest account (Samson). But Younger’s observation about the “major” judges (that is, what I call the “Parallel Panels”) is also borne out in the remaining sequences of the ring structure (see table 2). As for the framework and pivot, the prologue is eclipsed by the size of the Gideon account, which is finally eclipsed by the massive epilogue. The same building sequence is even apparent for the so-called minor judges: Shamgar is relatively better than Tola and Jair, who are relatively better than Ibzan, Elon and Abdon. Finally, a word is in order regarding the narrator’s use of refrains in the book. The first refrain—that the Israelites did “evil in the eyes of the Lord”—appears seven times, once in the prologue (2:11) and six more times in the body of the book (3:7, 12; 4:1; 6:1; 10:6; 13:1). The so-called major judge cycles are meant to be interpreted through the lens of this refrain. The narrator is essentially telling the same story seven times (in chs. 3–16), 47 (1998) 46–55; R. B. Chisholm, “The Role of Women in the Rhetorical Strategy of the Book of Judges” in Integrity of Heart, Skillfulness of Hands: Biblical and Leadership Studies in Honor of Donald K. Campbell (ed. C. G. Dyer and R. B. Zuck; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1994) 34–49; L. R. Klein, “A Spectrum of Female Characters in the Book of Judges” in A Feminist Companion to Judges (ed. A. Brenner; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993) 24–33; Schneider, “Achsah, the Raped Pîlegeš, and the Book of Judges,” 43–57. 44. See Exum, “The Centre Cannot Hold,” 412–13, 418, 425, 426, 428; cf., L. J. M. Claassens, “The Character of God in Judges 6–8: The Gideon Narrative as Theological and Moral Resource,” Horizons in Biblical Theology 23 (2001) 58, 62–71. 45.  Block, Judges, Ruth, 58, 250. 46.  Younger, Judges, Ruth, 37. 47.  The selection of seven stories (that is, the two triads plus the central Gideon narrative) may be related to the sevenfold judgment of God in Lev 26:18, 21, 24, 28; cf., Deut 28:25 (see Block, Judges, Ruth, 145).

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Table 2.  Relationship between Verbiage and Morality in the Book of Judges

Framework and Pivot

Parallel Panels

“Minor” Judges Totals

Literary Units Prologue 1:1–3:6 Gideon 6:1–8:32 Epilogue 17:1–21:25 Othniel 3:7–11 Ehud 3:12–30 Deborah/Barak 4:1–5:31 Abimelech 8:33–9:57 Jephthah 10:6–12:7 Samson 13:1–16:31 Shamgar 3:31 Tola, Jair 10:1–5 Ibzan, Elon, Abdon 12:8–15 Whole Book 1:1–21:25

Verse Count  65  97 147   5  19  55  60  60  96   1   5   8 618

Word Counta

1,390 2,371 3,473 108 417 1,023 1,272 1,396 2,291 24 87 117 13,969

a.  Computed in BibleWorks software (based on the Hebrew text: search version WTM).

even though the characters and circumstances keep changing and the stories keep growing in depth and length. Moreover, the opening formula for the Abimelech story (8:33, “when Gideon had died the Israelites relapsed and whored after the Baals”) is a variant form of this refrain that signals an intensification of the apostasy for the second triad of parallel stories. The second refrain is introduced in the extended epilogue of the book. It has two related components, and it is employed in four places corresponding to the four units of the epilogue. The first and final instances that form an inclusio for the epilogue are stated in full—“In those days there was no king in Israel, each would do what was right in his own eyes” (17:6; 21:25), whereas the two middle instances are truncated so that the second component is implied by ellipsis (18:1; 19:1). Again, this refrain is intended as an interpretive lens for viewing the stories of chs. 17–21. The relationship between the two refrains of chs. 3–16 and 17–21 should not be missed. The descent from shallow to deep waters, which is the narrator’s operative principle of literary arrangement, may also describe the shift from the first refrain to the second. Doing evil in the eyes of the Lord is a description of breaking covenant (that is, disobeying God’s commands; see 2:11–13, 20), 48 and it is difficult to imagine what could be worse 48.  This refrain is employed with the same meaning in Num 32:13; Deut 4:25; 9:18; 17:2; 31:29; 1 Sam 12:17; 15:19; 2 Sam 12:9; 1 Kgs 11:6; 14:22; 15:26, 34; 16:7, 19, 25,

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than that. But indeed the second refrain goes even further. 49 Doing what is right in one’s own eyes, as though there were no authority structure whatsoever, is worse than breaking covenant because it implies that God’s word and works were left entirely out of the picture! Thus, in the epilogue, the reader deeply senses the absence of God’s covenant and presence. 50 Israel is de­picted here thinking and acting as though the Torah does not exist, which poses the question “Is there any difference between an Israelite and a Canaanite?”

Conclusion In the foregoing analysis of the book of Judges, it should be evident how the literary structure is employed by the narrator to emphasize a progressively depressing portrait of Israel’s apostasy during the period of settlement. Thanks to the insightful and foundational observations made by previous scholars (especially Gooding and Douglas), the book of Judges may now be appreciated as another example of a ring composition. Or better, Judges may be viewed as a “spiral” composition that is structurally designed to represent Israel’s decline. Hopefully, the elucidation of the numerous rhetorical connections in the parallel accounts and of the function of the centrally located Gideon narrative will provide a foundation for continued research on the meaningful structure and theology of the book of Judges. 30; 21:20, 25; 22:52; 2 Kgs 3:2; 8:18, 27; 13:2, 11; 14:24; 15:9, 18, 24, 28; 17:2, 17; 21:2, 6, 16, 20; 23:32, 37; 24:9, 19. Note that the refrain of “doing what is right in the eyes of the Lord” (Exod 15:26; Deut 6:18; 12:25, 28; 13:19; 21:9; 1 Kgs 11:33, 38; 14:8; 15:5, 11; 22:43; 2 Kgs 10:30; 12:3; 14:3; 15:3, 34; 16:2; 18:3; 22:2) means the exact opposite: obedience to the covenant. 49. See Stone, “Judges, Book of,” 602, 603. 50.  For a stimulating discussion on “the increasingly ambiguous role of the deity” in Judges, see J. C. Exum, “The Centre Cannot Hold,” 410–31.

The Perfect Verb and the Perfect Woman in Proverbs Brian L. Webster The English translations of Proverbs 31 portray the ideal woman as an impossible-to-imitate super woman. After rising early while it is still night, she works late, with her lamp not going out. She is busy getting wool and flax, buying fields, helping the poor, sewing, trading, and laughing at the days to come. Commentators differ as to whether this woman could be a real woman. 1 The bar has indeed been set very high if she is doing all these things at once, as the present-tense verbs in the description may suggest. But in Hebrew, these verbs are predominantly qatal and vayyiqtol forms, with relatively few yiqtol forms. Present-tense translations would certainly be out of order for vayyiqtol verbs in narrative or in speech. But they are pressed into the mold of a general- or gnomic-present translation because of their parallel to the assumed present-tense function of the qatal form, which is the focus of this study. The problem is not confined to Proverbs 31. For example, Prov 11:2 employs a qatal and a vayyiqtol form, both traditionally translated by the present in English, “When arrogance appears (qatal), disgrace follows (vayyiqtol)” (njpsv). In Prov 14:18, “The naive inherit (qatal) folly, but the prudent are crowned (yiqtol) with knowledge” (nasb). And at Prov 11:21, we are told, “Assuredly, the evil man will not escape (yiqtol), but the offspring of the righteous will be safe (qatal)” (njpsv). This practice is common throughout the book of Proverbs and extends to other books as well. The first verse of the psalms provides a premier example. The verbs are qatal, but the English translations are almost uniformly present tense. “Blessed is the one who does not walk . . . nor sit . . . nor stand” (nasb). In this case, the present-tense translation stands in contrast to (1) the normal Author’s note: It is an honor and delight to dedicate this essay to Dr. Samuel Greengus, an exemplary scholar, teacher, and gentleman. 1.  Often the question is framed as to whether this is a real woman or Woman Wisdom personified, or whether she is a type or a potentially real wife. For a sample of opinions, see B. Waltke, The Book of Proverbs Chapters 15–31 (NICOT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005) 517–20.

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past-time reference of qatal forms of fientive verbs in both narrative and direct speech, (2) the lack of poetic parallelism with a present-time element, such as a yiqtol verb or participle, and (3) the fact that the ‫ַׁשרֵי‬ ְ ‫ ‏א‬formula most frequently uses yiqtol verbs or participles, 2 leaving little reason to select a qatal form for present time. While the njpsv correctly translates Ps 1:1 as past, it uses the present tense throughout the book of Proverbs, including for the ideal woman in ch. 31. So it is widely assumed that in Hebrew poetry a qatal verb can have a meaning that is present or future tense. Especially in proverbial sayings, translators deem the qatal to have a meaning termed gnomic present. 3 This contrasts with the normal use of qatal forms in narrative and direct speech, where the qatal of fientive verbs is past tense, or has perfective aspect that focuses on results in the present. A few statistics on the distribution of qatal forms in Proverbs and how modern translations treat them will help further set the stage. First, we observe that the book of Proverbs prefers the yiqtol form four to one over the qatal, having 820 instances of the yiqtol and 205 of the qatal. Second, there is a lower incidence of qatal forms in the short disconnected sayings of chs. 10–29 than in the extended text units that make up Proverbs 1–9 and 30–31. The first nine and last two chapters employ 110 qatal forms and 278 yiqtol forms. Strikingly, there are no qatal forms at all in Proverbs 10, underscoring the difference in the section begun here. Proverbs 10–29 has a clear preference for the yiqtol, using it 542 times. But this two thirds of the book has less than one half of the book’s qatal forms, only 95. It has nearly as many verbal participles, approximately 80. If the yiqtol, qatal, and participle forms are all to be treated as present tense, clearly the qatal is not the preferred form for the present in this literature. When sorted according to person, we find 54 total first and second-­ person forms of the qatal (excluding veqatal). Nearly all English trans2.  The word ‫ַׁשרֵ י‬ ְ ‫ א‬is used with participles 16 times (1 Kgs 10:8 [= 2 Chr 9:7]; Isa 30:18; 32:20; Ps 2:12; 41:2; 84:5, 13; 89:16; 106:3; 119:1, 2; 128:1; Prov 8:34; 28:14; Dan 12:12); with yiqtol forms 11 times (Isa 56:2; Ps 32:3; 34:9 [8]; 65:5 [4]; 94:12; 137:8,9; Job 5:17; Prov 3:13; 8:32; Dan 12:12); and with qatal forms 4 times (Ps 1:1; 40:5 [4]; 127:5; Prov 3:13). 3. B. Waltke and M. O’Connor, An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Grammar (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1990) 488. A. Niccacci summarized the approach of many to the verb in Biblical Hebrew poetry. “It was and still is a fairly common opinion among scholars, although not always openly declared, that the verbal forms in poetry, more so than in prose, can be taken to mean everything the interpreter thinks appropriate according to his understanding of the context,” A. Niccacci, “The Biblical Hebrew Verbal System in Poetry,” in Biblical Hebrew in Its Northwest Semitic Setting: Typological and Historical Perspectives (ed. S. E. Fassberg and A. Hurvitz; Jerusalem: Magnes, 2006) 247.

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lations render these in past tense. Does this mean that Hebrew poetry is mostly limited to using third-person qatal forms in present or future time? Or is it just that the translation process makes it easy to put third-person forms into the present tense, while it is harder to force this on first- and second-person forms? The first- and second-person qatal forms translated as present tense divide into two small subsets: (1) a few cases of stative verbs 4 and (2) a few instances where the translations change the sentences into interrogative or conditional constructions. 5 The first group is not remarkable because the stative qatal can normally be present time, as seen in direct speech. The second subset, which only includes second-person forms, reveals the trouble spot for translation. Apparently, translators want to use present tense. But because the resulting translation does not make sense, they change the nature of the sentence instead of their understanding of the verb or the genre. The problem arises from trying to accommodate English and is compli­ cated by mistaken assumptions about how proverbial sayings should work. To review, qatal verb forms are not predominate in the book of Proverbs, especially in the short, unconnected proverbial sayings such as those in chs. 10–29. The translations tend to translate third-person, fientive, qatal forms as present-time declarative sentences. They render first- and second-­ person forms as past time. But they will change second-person, fientive qatal forms into nondeclarative clauses. The question is whether the proverbs are really using qatal forms of fientive verbal roots for a so-called gnomic present or some other factor is at work. Based on an investigation of all the qatal verbs in the book of Proverbs, this essay will (1) argue that the qatal is not a “gnomic present” but appropriately past tense or perfective in all its contexts, as long as the genre is properly understood and the verbal root is not stative, (2) explain the significance of having a qatal verb and a yiqtol verb in parallel to each other, and (3) give the implications for understanding the description of the woman in Proverbs 31.

Qatal, not “Gnomic Present” It is generally recognized that proverbial statements say something that has timeless implications, to assert what is generally true. Often, perhaps 4.  Prov 8:13; 9:12; 30:18. Prov 14:7 also uses a stative qatal but may be excluded on text critical grounds. 5.  Prov 22:29; 26:12; and 29:20 are typically translated as interrogative, “do you see . . . ?” Prov 24:10 and (sometimes) 25:16 are translated conditionally. Prov 24:14 is in a marked conditional clause with ‫ ִאם‬and can be understood as perfective. Prov 31:29b is typically translated as present, but could easily be understood as perfective.

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most often, English speakers give such sayings with present tense verbs, as in “a chain is only as strong as its weakest link,” “a stitch in time saves nine,” or “the early bird catches the worm.” Proverbs may also be constructed with future verbs, as in, “Ask a silly question and you will get a silly answer,” “they who sow the wind will reap the whirlwind,” or “boys will be boys.” But proverbial sayings can also be constructed with past-time verbs, as in “curiosity killed the cat.” The function of having timeless relevance is independent of the tense of the verb. The following proverb uses an imperative and a future tense verb. “Give him an inch and he will take a mile.” But it could be reformulated in many ways: If you give him an inch, he will take a mile. Did you give him an inch? He will take a mile. When given an inch, he takes a mile. You gave that one an inch. He will take a mile. You gave him an inch and he took a mile.

In any of these formulations, the significance is basically the same and has timeless implications. But this does not mean that the different verb forms are present tense. Similarly, one could say “a wise woman built/builds/will build her house upon a rock, and the house on the rock stood/stands/will stand firm.” Each of the constructions would convey the same timeless principle that it is wise to build on a firm foundation. That fact would not mean that the different verb forms have the same meaning. The genre or context conveys the timeless element. Present relevance is intended, regardless of the verbal tense. Proverbial sayings can be constructed with different verb tenses, including the past tense. Rhetorically, “curiosity killed the cat,” means curiosity is dangerous, but grammatically, the verb “killed” does not mean “kills.” The past-tense formulation succeeds at being timeless because it presents the past event as prototypical for what can be expected in the present and the future. Others have questioned the so-called gnomic present use of the Hebrew qatal form. For example, Rogland has also raised doubts about nonpast uses of the qatal. 6 His approach involves two main prongs. He has collected a sample of proverbs given in the past tense from different languages. This illustrates that proverbs do not need to be in the present tense. Rogland’s 6. M. Rogland, Alleged Non-Past Uses of Qatal in Classical Hebrew (Assen: Van Gorcum, 2003). Rogland argues against all proposed non-past time uses of the qatal verb of dynamic roots.

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main focus is to tackle the examples given in the Hebrew reference grammars of the qatal verb as a general present in poetry, not limiting his investigation simply to examples in Proverbs. In each case, he offers an alternate understanding and a past tense or perfective translation. In this way, he undermines the value of the assumed gnomic present that derives from how well the present tense seems to work in translation. He shows that a past tense or perfective translation works just as well and furthermore is consistent with the use of the qatal verb in narrative and direct speech. If the extra category is not needed and complicates our understanding of the verb system (as if the verb system goes out the window when we come to poetry) then why adhere to this category of gnomic present? Cook offers a different approach with a similar conclusion. 7 Cook’s entry point is a cross-linguistic study of genericity, or ways of making generic statements, a category broader than, but including, proverbial sayings. He notes that the idea of a generic, or gnomic tense is being abandoned in modern linguistic research and that “no particular tense, aspect, or modality (TAM) is alone sufficient to produce a characterizing (or generic) expression.” 8 Cook’s sample from Proverbs includes the two Solomonic collections in Prov 10:1–22:16 and 25:1–29:27, in which he addresses the issues of tense, aspect and modality in all of the verbal forms employed. Cook also comments on the value of present tense translations for the Hebrew qatal conjugation: Most often, translations and commentaries follow the traditional approach of identifying these instances as “gnomic perfects” (and by analogy applying it to vayyiqtol as well) and translating them as present tense. However, this treatment is not self-evidently correct because in many instances the usual translation of the verb is perfectly acceptable. 9

Cook agrees with Rogland that many Hebrew proverbs with qatal verbs should be understand as past-time sayings construed as anecdotal, leaving the audience to make a generic inference from the incident reported. Others should be understood with perfective aspect. 10 7.  J. A. Cook, “Genericity, Tense, and Verbal Patterns in the Sentence Literature of Proverbs,” in Seeking Out the Wisdom of the Ancients: Essays Offered to Honor Michael V. Fox on the Occasion of His Sixty-Fifth Birthday (ed. R. Troxel; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2005) 117–33. 8.  Ibid., 117. 9.  Ibid., 130. 10.  Ibid., 131. Cook also observes that sometimes a past or perfective translation is awkward but holds that a “past-tense reading . . . is not completely ruled out for these examples, and thus they do not detract from the overall observation that [tense, aspect,

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My own investigation extends the argument by treating all the qatal verbs in the book of Proverbs. If past tense and perfective values adequately explain all the fientive qatal verbs, then there is no contextual need to posit a gnomic present for them. It suggests that the historical development of the qatal, first of adjectives becoming stative verbs, then fientive roots as perfective and past, is an adequate framework for understanding the qatal and that the timeless sense of the sayings in Proverbs derives from the genre. This in turn casts doubt on the gnomic present category for the qatal elsewhere and commends pursuing the poetry of the Psalms, for example, without flattening so many of the verbs to present tense. 11 In what follows, I present basic categories for all the uses of the qatal in Proverbs, excluding veqatal forms or cases that are problematic from a text critical basis. 12 Before treating the disputed uses I review those uses of the qatal in Proverbs that are clearly not “gnomic present.” These undisputed uses are cases where dynamic verbal roots in the qatal are past or perfective or where stative roots are past or present, and may be ingressive. The settings of the agreed-on uses are as follows: (1) relative clauses, usually with ‫‏אשר‬, (2) ‫‏כי‬clauses, (3) conditional clauses with ‫‏אם‬, (4) clauses with other conjunctions, and modality] distinctions do exist in Proverbs” (ibid.,133). In addition, Cook proposes that some qatal forms in the book of Proverbs are modal, if the qatal verb is in first position in the sentence before a stated subject. He allows that these “may have a generic habitual sense” similar to a habitual sense in prose, citing Gen 29:3 (ibid., 133). How­ever, the forms in Gen 29:3 are veqatal carrying forward the past habitual sense of a yiqtol in the previous verse. It is not clear that such a sense may be carried by qatal on its own. I believe each of the examples provided by Cook (Prov 14:6, 19; 22:13; 26:13; 26:7) can be adequately explained as past or perfective without appealing to a modal use. Further, other cases of VS word order, with qatal before an explicitly stated subject (11:2; 12:12; 14:18; 19:24, 29; 24:31; 26:15; 28:1; 31:11, 28) should also be understood as past or perfective and are sometimes hard to imagine in a modal translation. 11.  See my chapter on poetry in B. L. Webster, The Cambridge Introduction to Biblical Hebrew (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009) 295–305. Further foundations for this approach to Psalms are developed in B. L. Webster and J. Zwyghuizen, “Stative Verbs in the Psalter” (paper presented at the annual meeting of the SBL, Boston, 24 November 2008) and J. Zwyghuizen, Time Reference of Verbs in Hebrew Poetry (Ph.D. diss., Dallas Theological Seminary, 2012). 12.  When more than one qatal verb appears in a verse, this is indicated by adding a letter to the verse number, e.g., 24b, which does not refer to the poetic line division but to the second qatal verb in the verse. This study excludes veqatals. Verses omitted on text critical grounds or alternate parsing include: Prov 13:23; 14:7; 17:14; 19:19; 27:25a. Prov 18:3 was included, though the form may be a participle.

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267

(5) rhetorical questions, (6) and passages in which the speaker tells a story or otherwise supplies historical information, mostly first person forms and third person verbs in chs. 1–9.

The relative clauses (1) provide background information as part of characterizing the noun they modify. 13 In clauses governed by ‫(‏ כי‬2), the qatal verb typically states: (a) a past action, which is the reason for a consequence, (b) the logical basis for an assertion, or (c) a past action provided as motivation to act or to accept advice or an invitation. Conditional premises marked by ‫(‏אם‬3) provide the setting for applying advice or a circumstance leading to a consequence. 14 A few other conjunctions or particles (4) precede qatal verbs, each of these being clearly perfective in context. 15 The few qatal verbs in rhetorical questions (5) are typically perfective in the more literal translations. 16 Historical accounts (6) include the first-person qatal forms in Proverbs, which were noted earlier to be regularly translated as past or perfective for fientive roots, while stative verbs may be present. Although these are not narratives driven by vayyiqtol chains, the speaker clearly states what she or he has done or describes her or his status. About two-thirds of these appear in chs. 1–9. 17 Another 20 third-person qatal verbs in chs. 1–9 give historical information, such as references to creation and the descriptions of the seductress, Lady Folly, and Lady Wisdom. 18 Not every line of the book of Proverbs would be technically classified as a proverb. But all are intended to have enduring significance. The clear cases of qatal for past time in chs. 1–9 demonstrate that Hebrew wise sayings did not have to be limited to present time; they can and do contain past time descriptions. These include events that are exemplary, or prototypical of events that may recur in the present or in the future. The account of seduction in 7:6–23 is an excellent example. The sage tells the account as an event he observed through his window. The narrative 13.  Prov 2:16; 2:17; 3:13; 7:5; 9:5; 22:28; 23:22a; 25:1; 25:7; 26:19a; 30:18ab; 31:1. Prov 30:18 may be translated in the present tense as it uses a stative verb and a passive verb, which emphasizes the resulting state. The similarity between statives and passives (Webster, Cambridge Introduction, 148) is worthy of further exploration in the Psalms. 14.  Prov 3:30; 6:1ab, 2ab; 9:12ac; 23:15; 24:14; 30:32ab. This list includes both stative qatal verbs as present (e.g. “if . . . be/become wise,” cf. 9:12; 23:15), and dynamic qatal verbs as perfective (e.g. “if . . . have made a pledge,” cf. 6:1). 15.  The words ‫יען‬, ‫על־כן‬, ‫בטרם‬, ‫אף‬, ‫כמו‬, and ‫ כאשר‬in Prov 1:24ab; 7:15; 8:25; 9:2; 23:7; 24:29. Some of these could be understood as past tense. 16.  Prov 22:20; 30:4. See the niv, nasb, net, kjv, esv, asv, Holman, and cev. 17.  Prov 1:24ab; 4:11ab; 5:12bc, 13ab, 14; 7:14, 15, 16, 17; 8:12, 13, 23, 24, 25b; 20:9ab; 22:19; 23:35bd; 24:12a, 30, 32ab; 30:3, 20d. 18.  Prov 3:19a, 20b; 7:13c, 21, 23; 8:2, 22, 25a, 26; 9:1ab, 2abc, 3, 4, 13, 14, 18.

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framework is constructed with a qatal followed by a vayyiqtol in vv. 6–7. He looked and watched so as to understand a young man (perhaps of social position). After telling the account, 19 he shifts to the present in v. 24 (‫)‏ועתה‬ and instructs his students to listen and not follow her deadly ways. The event observed in the past has proverbial implications for the present and future. A similar wise saying appears at Prov 24:30–34. 20 The sage relates an experience leading to a proverbial saying. The sequence begins with a qatal, “I passed by a sluggard’s field.” Then ‫ הנה‬introduces the condition of the field at the time. Three qatal forms describe the field’s shabby status, the results of what the sluggard has not done. At verse 32 a vayyiqtol advances the timeline. The macro structure at this point is “I passed by it . . . and then I scrutinized it.” The next three verbs (a yiqtol, past progressive, and two qatal forms) do not advance the timeline, but expand on the sage’s scrutiny of the field. Then vv. 33–34 express the lesson to be learned. It has a starting point, “a little sleep,” and a prediction of consequences. What is presented as a historical occasion is the basis for timeless or gnomic significance. What then of the short proverbial maxim? Can such a proverb employ a past-time or perfective expression with a rhetorical significance that is gnomic? We come to the disputed cases and begin with Prov 25:16 and 21:22. These exemplify two additional categories of the uses of qatal verbs in Proverbs: topic setting and prototypical past observation. Prov 25:16 is one of the handful of proverbs using a second person qatal that the translations routinely turn into a conditional sentence or a question. It presents a starting point, or sets the topic, with a statement, “You have found honey.” Then it gives advice. “Eat [only] what is sufficient for you, lest you stuff yourself and then vomit.” Certainly we can render the opening as “Have you found honey,” “When/If you find honey,” and it will sound fine. But how it sounds in English is not the measure of how it works in Hebrew. 19.  Although the forms vary, the account as a whole is in the past. He saw (qatal and vayyiqtol) the man progressing along (qotel and yiqtol) at twilight. Next the woman is there to meet him (‫ הנה‬plus infinitive). He breaks from the progress of events to describe her character and typical behaviors, using nominal clauses, participles, and a yiqtol form followed by two veqatals in 10–13a. At 13b the story of her meeting this man resumes with a qatal and vayyiqtol, the latter introducing her speech in vv. 14–20. In vv. 21–22, the sage gives the result, “She induced him to yield (qatal),” and expands on this with an imperfective yiqtol and a qotel in the same past time frame, “she was steering him along . . . he walking after her.” 20.  This section appears between the Solomonic collections that comprised Cook’s corpus (Cook, “Genericity, Tense, and Verbal Patterns”). It differs from the previous section of Proverbs by having units that extend for more than two lines.

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269

Prov 25:16 shows that a qatal verb may be used to provide the starting point on which the proverb will comment. It sets the occasion, then offers insight for the occasion. 21 This is basically the same role as beginning with a conditional, temporal, or causal clause. They frame the occasion or set the topic. A qatal clause can also do this. This explains the second-person qatal verbs that translators have changed into conditions or questions. 22 It is also valid for third-person sayings, as in: 23 Someone has found (qatal) a good 24 wife–he has found (qatal) a benefit; And obtained (vayyiqtol) favor from the Lord (Prov 18:22). The fathers ate (qatal) sour grapes; The children’s teeth are/will be set (yiqtol) on edge (Jer 31:29; Ezek 18:2).

Prov 21:22 on the other hand does not begin by setting a topic. Instead, the entire verse is offered as an assertion or observation from which to draw wise inference. With a qatal and a vayyiqtol it remarks, “A wise man went up against a mighty city and he brought down a trusted stronghold.” It would sound fine to say, “A wise man goes up/can go up,” but the English tense in this sort of rendering does not reflect the nuance of the Hebrew verb forms. As “curiosity killed the cat,” so too, “a wise man brought down a city.” The verbs express a grammatically past event, which rhetorically is viewed as typological, so that it has timeless value. Thus, the past expression with qatal (and vayyiqtol) constitutes the assertion of wisdom. This category can be subdivided. Sometimes the assertion follows a topic that has been introduced or is followed by an expansion or background clause. Sometimes the assertion spans the cola of the verse, whether there is only one clause or more. Sometimes the assertion is part of synonymous parallelism, sometimes antithetical. 25

Qatal Parallel to Non-qatal Most cases of antithetic parallelism, and some others, place a qatal verb in parallel to a clause that does not use a qatal verb. On many occasions, 21.  Gen 49:9b provides a similar example outside of Proverbs. Jacob describes Judah as a lion, giving the setting with two qatal forms, “he has crouched and lain down,” then posing the rhetorical question, “who will rouse him?” 22.  See p. 263 n. 5 for references. 23.  Prov 18:22a; 19:7a; 22:2, 29; 23:8a; 24:10; 25:16a; 26:12; 29:13, 20; 30:7, 21. 24.  The LXX, Syriac, Targum, and some Hebrew and Latin witnesses support the restoration of the adjective that was lost through the scribal error of homoeoteleuton. 25.  Prov 1:7; 11:2, 7, 8, 21; 12:12, 21; 13:1, 24; 14:1, 6ab, 18, 19, 31; 16:4, 26a, 30; 17:5; 18:8; 19:11, 24, 29; 21:10, 22, 26, 29; 22:3a–d, 12, 13; 26:7, 9, 13, 15a, 22; 27:12a–d, 15; 28:1; 30:12, 15, 16a–b. Space does not permit a detailed differentiation of subcategories, the boundaries of which are sometimes difficult to delineate.

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different forms participate in the same time frame because the forms can overlap in that area of meaning. A present time frame may apply to a fientive yiqtol, a stative qatal, a participle, a verbless clause, or to a fientive qatal when perfective in force, that is, with the focus on the continuing results of past action. Any combination of these may be in parallel in a present time frame but not necessarily with the same aspect. A past time frame may include a fientive or stative qatal, a vayyiqtol, a yiqtol that is preterite, a yiqtol that is habitual, or a participle or verbless clause that derives its time from context. A future time frame may include a yiqtol, a veqatal, or a participle or verbless clause that derive their time from context.  26 So how should we understand proverbial sayings that place a qatal in parallel with a different type of verb, particularly a yiqtol? Should we seek to harmonize them? The convention is to make all forms present tense, including fientive qatal forms, which imposes a gnomic function on the grammar, rather than recognize it at the rhetorical level. Another option is to place them in the same time frame (if the paired items warrant this), but with different aspect, leaving the gnomic function to the genre. This is generally what we advocate for the Psalms. But in proverbs, especially in cases of antithetic parallelism, we suggest using different time frames to highlight the contrast. The timeless significance will continue to derive rhetorically from the genre.For example: Not every harm will happen (yiqtol) to the righteous; but the wicked is full (qatal stative) of trouble (Prov 12:21). She has built (qatal) her house with the wisdom of wives; but folly tears (yiqtol) it down with her own hands (Prov 14:1). Pride came (qatal), then shame followed (vayyiqtol); but wisdom is with the humble (nominal clause) (Prov 11:2). Assuredly, a wicked person will not be unpunished (yiqtol); but the child of the righteous has been delivered (qatal) (Prov 11:21).

The contrast provides perspective. By means of a yiqtol, the sage in 11:21 helps the student look ahead to the consequence for the wicked, but with a qatal gives the assurance of deliverance as something that has really happened (and so it will again). The nuances of delivery are lost when translation flattens all forms to present tense. In sum, proverbs in other languages may be expressed with past-time references. The present tense is not necessary for an expression to be gnomic. Hebrew has wise sayings presented with past time references. Every qatal verb in the book of Proverbs may be reasonably understood when translated by the conventions known in speech and narrative. The gnomic 26.  Webster, Cambridge Introduction, 297–301.

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271

sense of a proverb is rhetorical, not grammatical. Recognizing differences in tense and aspect in translation preserves the nuances of the Hebrew. The category “gnomic present” for qatal should be removed from the syntax books or supplemented by a note that the gnomic force is rhetorical.

The Perfect Verb and the Perfect Woman Finally, we return to the woman of Proverbs 31. This passage is dominated by qatal and vayyiqtol forms (19 qatal and 7 vayyiqtol forms). Anywhere else, we would translate these as past. Excluding the opening and concluding statements, the main body of the poem describing the woman has 4 yiqtol forms. Rather than overthrow the normal past-time reference of 26 qatal and vayyiqtol verbs on the basis of 4 yiqtol forms, let us ask how these yiqtol verbs would be understood in light of the qatal forms. Theoretically, a yiqtol could be an archaic preterite or an imperfective in past time, such as a past habitual. Two of these yiqtol verbs are morphologically long forms, and thus not preterites. Following this lead, rendering all four of these yiqtols as past habitual makes perfect sense in context. But what does this mean for our understanding of the woman? Instead of what she does, the description says what she did and what she used to do. Likewise, her children have risen and blessed her. If her grown children have risen and blessed her, then we have not been talking about a prospective spouse that a young bachelor is trying to find and marry. She is not even a young wife, who would still be in the process of becoming such a woman. The passage describes the mature woman who has done it. It describes a woman whose husband and household have benefited from her character and labor. She did not necessarily stay up late every night and get up early every morning. But she did whichever may have been needed when it was necessary. She did not necessarily have ongoing concurrent businesses in real estate, farming, tanning, and textiles. But over the years she has done such things. The behaviors are typical, not constant and simultaneous. We are reading about a lifetime achievement recognition, not her daily planner. The shift away from present-tense translation removes possible overtones of workaholism and adds the quality of persevering faithfulness. She is still an ideal. She has demonstrated that beauty is vain by having lived out what is important. She fears God, speaks with wisdom, is industrious, valuable, valiant. But she is perhaps a bit more human, a bit more possible to imitate. If the perfect verbs are translated as past and perfective, then the perfect woman is more possible to find in the present.

Index of Authors Aaron, D. H.  96, 179 Abusch, T.  91, 233 Achtemeier, P.  52, 54, 60 Ackerman, S.  257 Adams, F.  139 Adriaens, A.  139 Aharoni, Y.  92 Alter, R.  252 Amit, Y.  18, 247, 248, 253, 256 Andersen, F. I.  15 André, G.  190 Andrew, M. E.  52, 55 Annus, A.  69 Arnold, B. T.  13, 14, 16, 18, 19, 28, 29, 32, 89, 98, 104, 109, 177, 234 Assis, E.  247, 248, 251, 253 Baerish, R.  157 Bailey, L.  204 Baker, H. D.  122 Bakhtin, M.  109 Baly, T. J. C.  84, 85, 86 Barbiero, G.  189 Barr, J.  176, 202, 204 Barthes, R.  81 Barton, J.  41 Batto, B. F.  33, 211 Bauer, H.  111 Behm, J.  64 Ben-Ami, D.  2 Ben-Tor, A.  2, 10 Ben Zvi, E.  170 Bertram, G.  65 Beyer, B. E.  41 Bhabha, H.  135, 136 Bird, P. A.  105 Bjerke, S.  84, 85 Black, J. A.  32, 33 Blackman, A. M.  85 Blair, J. M.  233, 239, 241 Blau, J.  112, 113, 114

Blenkinsopp, J.  97 Block, D. I.  247, 248, 252, 257, 258 Bonfil, R.  2 Borger, R.  184 Boyarin, D.  135 Branson, R. D.  177, 178 Brennan, J. P.  187, 193 Brice, G. W.  177, 178 Brichto, H. C.  95 Briggs, C. A.  64 Briskin, J.  151, 152, 153, 155 Brueggemann, W.  188, 198, 215 Buber, M.  249 Buchanan, G. W.  54 Buck, A. de  84 Budge, E. A. W.  83 Butler, T.  248 Carmichael, C. M.  95 Carr, D. M.  14, 16 Cassuto, U.  15, 204 Cha, K.  193 Chamberlain, A.  121 Charlesworth, J.  203, 204, 211 Chartier, R.  171 Chesterman, A.  216, 220 Childs, B. S.  48, 52, 53, 57, 95, 187, 188 Chirichigno, G. C.  122 Chisholm, R. B.  65, 258 Choi, J. H.  232 Claassens, L. J. M.  258 Claissé-Walford, N. de  188 Cleuziou, S.  140 Coates, J. R.  55 Cohen, B.  53, 60, 61, 62 Cole, R. L.  188, 189, 190, 191, 192 Collins, B. J.  83 Conrad, E. G.  162 Contenau, G.  146, 149 Cook, J. A.  265, 266, 268 Cooper, A.  18

273

274

Index of Authors

Cotterell, P.  176 Craigie, P. C.  52, 58, 59 Cross, F. M.  38 Crüsemann, F.  100, 102 Crutchfield, J. C.  188 Cunningham, G.  233, 234, 242 Currid, J. E.  65 Dandamaev, M.  122, 131, 133 Daube, D.  53, 60 Davila, J. R.  107 Deleuze, G.  216, 226 Demsky, A.  211 Dentan, R. C.  65 Derevenski, J. S.  121 Dorsey, D. A.  247, 248, 256, 257 Dossin, G.  181 Douglas, M.  249, 250, 251, 253, 254, 256, 257 Draguet, R.  74 Driver, S. R.  14, 15, 35 Durant, T.  65 Durham, J.  53, 58 Dussel, E.  216, 227 Eagleton, T.  172 Eichrodt, W.  64 Eidem, J.  180 Eilberg-Schwartz, H.  100 Eisenstein, J. D.  151 Ellis, M. de Jong  161 Emerton, J. A.  15, 29 Erisman, A. Roskop  18, 95, 108 Ernst, A.  105 Evans, W.  52, 60, 65 Exum, J. C.  248, 255, 256, 258, 260 Eyre, C.  123 Fabry, H.-J.  65, 90 Feder, Y.  91 Finet, A.  181 Firmage, E.  18, 29 Fishbane, M.  41, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 108, 109 Fish, T.  148 Fleming, D.  91 Fox, N.  82

Frazer, J. G.  86 Freedman, D. N.  211 Fretheim, T. E.  65 Frymer-Kensky, T.  97, 99 Fuchs, A.  183 Gadd, C. J.  190 Gakuru, G.  172 Galambush, J.  101 Gane, R.  92 Gardiner, A.  85 Garrett, D. A.  112 Geertz, C.  172 Gelb, I. J.  11 Geller, M.  233 Gemsler, B.  52, 62 George, A.  69, 70, 71, 72, 74, 76, 78 Gerstenberger, E. S.  181, 196 Gillingham, S.  188 Giorgadze, G. G.  123 Glasson, T. F.  64 Goetze, A.  184 Goff, M.  69, 70, 72 Goldstein, B. R.  18 Gomi, T.  147, 148 Gooding, D. W.  247, 248, 251 Gordon, C. H.  53, 55 Gordon, R. P.  204 Goren, Y.  4, 10 Goyon, J.-C.  83, 84, 87 Grant, J. A.  188 Gray, J.  41 Green, A. R.  33 Greenberg, M.  107 Greenstein, E. L.  71 Hackett, J.  239 Hallo, W. W.  8, 178, 180, 184 Halton, C.  139, 143 Harland, P. J.  96 Harner, P.  161, 162, 163, 166, 168, 172 Harris, Z.  113 Hawkins, J. D.  181, 183 Haye, A. de la 81 Heimpel, W.  140 Heiser, M.  240 Helck, W.  84, 87

Index of Authors Henning, W. B.  67, 74 Hesiod  105, 106 Heskel, D. L.  141, 142 Hespel, R.  74 Hess, R.  5 Hill, A. E.  257 Holladay, J., Jr.  172, 173 Holladay, W.  238 Holmstedt, R.  176 Horowitz, W.  1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11 Houston, W. J.  173 Houtman, C.  53, 89 Howard, D. M.  188 Hurvitz, A.  17 Izre'el, S.  181 Jackson, B.  52, 53, 55, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63 Jackson, B. S.  98, 104 Jackson, D.  69 Jacob, B.  52 Jakobson, R.  176 Janowski, B.  241 Jaques, M.  178, 179, 184 Jeffers, A.  71 Johnston, G.  168 Joosten, J.  21 Joüon, P.  112, 113, 114, 119 Joyce, P. M.  98 Juster, P.  52 Karo, J.  156 Kaufman, S. A.  52, 59, 62 Kayani, P. I.  141 Kelermann, D.  65 Kelly, P. S.  112 Khan, G.  112, 114, 118 Kilmer, A. Draffkorn  98 Kim, J. H.  93 Klein, J.  97 Klein, L. R.  248, 258 Knohl, I.  17, 18, 20, 21, 22, 24, 30, 31, 32, 35, 96, 102, 103, 108, 109 Knoppers, G. N.  38 Koorevaar, H.  188, 192 Kraus, H.-J.  64

275

Kroeze, J.  111, 113 Kvanvig, H.  67 Læssøe, J.  180 Landsberger, B.  6 Lang, B.  52, 60 Leander, P.  111 Levine, J.  53, 61, 63 Lie, A. G.  183 Limet, H.  142, 146 Lindars, B.  248 Liverani, M.  179 Livingstone, A.  234 Lohfink, N.  96 Longman, T.  248 Long, V. P.  248 Lorton, D.  83, 84, 85, 87, 88 Luc, A.  65 Luckenbill, D. D.  183 Lyotard, J. F.  225 Mack, R. R.  161, 163 Maekawa, K.  147 Malamat, A.  3 Malina, B.  61, 62, 65 Maniatis, Y.  142 Margolis, M. L.  115 Marshall, J. W.  52, 53, 62 Martin, D. B.  230 Matlock, M. D.  54, 55, 56 Matsushima, E.  82 Matties, G. H.  99, 103, 106 Mayer, G.  53, 60 Mays, J. J.  188, 195, 196, 197, 198 Mazar, A.  125 Mazar, E.  4, 5 McCann, J. C.  187, 189, 196, 198, 247 McEvenue, S. E.  108 Meeks, D.  234 Mendenhall, G. E.  32 Merrill, E.  53, 57, 59 Merwe, C. H. J. van der  111, 113 Méry, S.  140 Milgrom, J.  17, 18, 90, 100, 101, 102 Milik, J.  67, 68, 73, 74, 75 Millard, M.  188 Mitchell, D. C.  188

276

Index of Authors

Moberly, R. W. L.  204 Moorey, P. R. S.  140, 141 Moran, W. L.  53, 55, 176, 177, 178, 179, 180, 182, 184, 185 Moret, A.  82, 86, 87 Morris, E. F.  3 Morris, L.  100 Muchiki, Y.  90 Nakhai, B.  125, 127 Naude, J.  111, 113 Niccacci, A.  262 Nicholson, E. W.  14 Nielsen, E.  15, 55, 57, 59 Nielsen, K.  41 Nihan, C.  105, 108 Nissen, H. J.  140 Nissinen, M.  163, 167, 172 Norad, S.  226 Noth, M.  53, 54 Notley, R. S.  1, 251 Nougayrol, J.  179, 182 Nowell, I.  65 Oates, D.  141 Oates, J.  141 Obermark, P.  124, 130 O’Connell, R. H.  247, 256 O’Connor, M.  201, 262 Olson, D. T.  247, 249, 251, 252 Oppenheim, A. L.  10, 90, 126, 127, 128, 129, 130, 134, 135, 140 Ornan, T.  33, 34, 233 Oshima, T.  1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 Otto, E.  52, 60, 81, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87 Owen, D. I.  144, 145, 148 Ozaki, T.  143, 146 Pardee, D.  232 Parker-Pearson, M.  124 Parpola, S.  163 Patterson, R. 169, 204 Phillips, A.  99 Porter, S.  217 Posner, E.  11 Powell, M. A.  122, 123, 132 Pratico, G. D.  111, 113

Preisker, H.  64 Preuss, H. D.  52, 60 Propp, W. H. C.  14, 15, 89, 91, 92, 93 Provan, I.  248 Puech, E.  73, 74, 75 Pym, A.  216, 219, 220, 221, 224 Raabe, P. R.  98 Rabello, A. M.  52 Radday, Y. T.  15 Rad, G. von  53, 54 Rainey, A. F.  1, 3, 92, 251 Reeves, J. C.  68, 69, 76 Reindl, J.  187 Revell, J.  112, 114 Roberts, J. J. M.  203 Rofe, A.  52, 53, 55, 56, 57 Rogland, M.  264, 265 Rooke, D.  82 Ross, A. P.  111, 113 Roth, A. M.  84 Rowe, A.  6 Rowling, J. K.  249 Russell, J. B.  229, 230 Rüterswörden, U.  232 Ryck, I. de  139 Saggs, H. W. F.  236 Sanders, P.  187, 193 Sasson, J. M.  256 Scaiola, D.  193 Schneider, T. J.  256, 258 Schulman, A. R.  85 Schunk, D.  52, 60, 61, 62 Schwartz, B. J.  14, 100 Scurlock, J.  230 Seow, C. L.  111, 113 Sethe, K.  86 Seybold, K.  65 Sharon, D. M.  255 Sigrist, M.  143, 147, 148 Simian-Yofre, H.  22 Smith, G. V.  42, 43 Smith, M.  83 Snijders, L. A.  90 So Kun Ahn, S.  193 Sollberger, E.  182

Index of Authors Sparks, K.  125 Speiser, E. A.  19, 35 Spronk, K.  232 Stahl, N.  106 Stamm, J. J.  52, 55, 57, 59, 60 Steinkeller, P.  139, 142, 143, 144, 146, 149 Stone, L. G.  247, 251, 260 Stordalen, T.  107 Stuart, D.  53, 55, 60 Stuckenbruck, L. T.  68, 69, 70, 74, 75, 76, 77 Sundermann, W.  67 Sweeney, M. A.  251 Tadmor, H.  6, 8, 9 Tanner, J. P.  249 Tigay, J. H.  53, 59, 238, 241 Tite, M. S.  142 Toorn, K. van der  161, 162, 164, 171, 172, 232 Touzalin, M.  146 Towner, P.  216, 222 Van Pelt, M. V.  111, 113 Van Seters, J.  15, 16 Vasholz, R. I.  54 Verderame, L.  143 Vidas, E. de  157 Vos, C. J. A.  196 Voth, S.  217 Wallace, R. E.  188 Wallis, G.  52, 59 Waltke, B. K.  201, 261, 262 Walton, J. H.  42, 176, 201, 202, 203, 257 Wasilewska, E.  145 Webb, B. G.  247, 248, 255, 256, 257 Webster, B. L.  266, 270 Weeks, L. R.  140 Weinfeld, M.  53, 60, 62, 125, 184 Weingreen, J.  111, 112

277

Weiss, R.  56 Wellhausen, J.  14, 32 Wenham, G. J.  15, 16, 18, 247 Wernberg-Moller, P.  113, 115 Westbrook, R.  122, 132 Westenholz, J.  233, 234, 235, 236 Westermann, C.  19, 24, 26, 28, 29, 33, 35, 48, 96, 97, 100, 102, 104, 105, 108, 162, 204 Westermann, W. L.  122 White Crawford, S. A.  53 Whitekettle, R.  23, 24, 27, 30, 31 Wickes, W.  116 Wiggermann, F. A. M.  236 Wijngaert, L. van den  97 Wilcke, C.  143 Wildberger, H.  238, 241 Willett, E. A.  125 Williams, J. G.  252 Wilson, E.  81 Wilson, G.  187, 194, 195 Wilson, R. R.  107 Wong, G. T. K.  248, 255 Wright, D. P.  100, 241, 242 Wyatt, N.  232 Yadin, Y.  1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 92 Yaron, R.  183, 184 Yeivin, I.  116, 118 Yengoyan, A.  216, 221, 225 Yildiz, F.  147, 148 Younger, K. L.  247, 248, 249, 252, 253, 256, 258 Young, G. D.  148 Zarzecki-Peleg, A.  2 Zenger, E.  188, 193 Zipperstein, S. J.  152 Zobel, H.-J.  90 Zohar, M.  91 Zuckerman, S.  2, 9, 11 Zwyghuizen, J.  266

Index of Scripture Genesis 1  14, 18, 19, 27, 28, 29, 39 1–11  19, 26, 28, 29, 33, 35, 96, 102, 108, 204, 209 1:2  117, 218 1:5  114 1:11  114 1:12  117 1:15  116 1:21  117 1:22  28 1:24–28  106 1:26  30 1:26–27  77 1:28  99, 117, 211 1:29–30  101 1:31  77 2  28, 29 2–3  19, 107, 204, 210 2:2–3  18, 32 2:16  29 2:16–17  201 2:17  202, 203, 212 2:18–19  29 2:24  32 3  54, 201, 211 3:3  202 3:4  203 3:4–5  202 3:11  212 3:12  212 3:13  212 3:14  32 3:15  32 3:16  32 3:17–19  19 3:22  203, 210, 212 4  242 4:12  116

Genesis (cont.) 4:16  114 4:17  32 4:20  32 4:22  32 4:26  32 5  19, 23 5:1  19 5:7–8  98 5:22  19 5:24  19 5:28  39 5:29  19 5:30–32  39 5:31  251 5:32  19, 23 6–9  13, 30, 96, 101 6:1–4  18, 68, 77, 209, 210 6:1–8  20 6:5  62, 63, 96, 105 6:5–8  18, 21 6:7  18, 23, 30 6:8  106 6:9  18, 19, 20, 21, 106, 107 6:9–9:29  13 6:9–10  19 6:10  19, 20 6:11–12  21, 98, 103 6:11–13  96 6:11–22  20, 22, 30 6:12  98 6:13  21, 98 6:17  21, 22, 31 6:18  20, 22, 23 6:19–20  22, 23, 24 6:20  30 6:21  117 7  19 7:1  19, 106

278

Genesis (cont.) 7:2  23 7:2–4  25 7:4  23 7:6–7  23, 40 7:7  22 7:8  30 7:8­9  24 7:8–9  23 7:8–10  23 7:10  23 7:11  23, 24, 25, 40 7:12  24, 26 7:13  19, 24 7:13–16  24 7:14  24, 25 7:16  24 7:17  25 7:17–24  24 7:18–20  25 7:21  25 7:22  25 7:23  25, 30 7:24  25 7:26–27  29 8:1  26 8:1–2  25, 40 8:1–5  25 8:2  25 8:2–3  26 8:3  25, 26 8:3–5  24, 25, 40 8:4  25, 26 8:6–12  26 8:13  28 8:13–14  26, 28, 40 8:14  26, 28 8:15–17  26, 27 8:17  27, 28, 30 8:18–19  27, 28, 40 8:19  27, 28

Index of Scripture Genesis (cont.) 8:20–22  28, 99 8:21  31, 104 8:22  28 9  95, 105, 108 9:1  27, 28, 99 9:1­7  31 9:1–7  27, 28, 109 9:1–17  28, 104 9:2  30 9:2–3  99, 101 9:3  29 9:3–6  29 9:4  100, 101, 102, 103, 106 9:4–6  108 9:5  104 9:5–6  102 9:6  28, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106 9:7  28 9:8–17  22, 30, 99 9:9  22, 31 9:10  31 9:11  98, 117 9:12  22, 31 9:12–17  31, 34 9:18  19 9:18–29  35 9:20  32 9:20–27  19 9:28–29  35, 40 10  28, 35, 37 10:1  37 10:5  28 10:8–9  76 10:18  28 10:20  28 10:31  28 10:32  28 11  76 11:2–23  27 11:9  32 11:10–26  37 11:27–12:5  211 13:4  117 14:2  76

Genesis (cont.) 15:7  31 17  18, 30 17:1  22, 31, 106 17:3–4  29 17:4  22, 31 17:5  117 17:5–8  39 17:7  39 18:6  114, 117 18:24  117 19:16  29 19:20  117 19:26  29, 32 19:37–38  32 20  71 22  249 27:21  117 27:32  117 28:13  31 28:14  117 29:3  266 33:8  117 34:11  117 35:6–7  116, 117 35:11  31 41–43  125 42:22  104 46:27  117 48:22  117 49:9  269 Exodus 2:13  153 3:14  76, 77 5:10  117 6  21 6:6–8  17 9:15  117 10:22  117 12:22  117 14:13  196 15:8  114 15:26  260 19–40  89, 91, 92 19:30–37  92 20  58

279 Exodus (cont.) 20:14  59 20:15  59 20:17  51, 53, 54, 57, 58, 60 21:1–6  122 21:12  102, 103 21:22–25  98 22:20  51 23:1  97 24:12–31:18  88 25:10–26:36  89 28–29  81, 83, 88 28:1–43  89 28:2  92 28:3  90 28:5  89 28:5–6  90 28:7  90 28:7–20  107 28:18  107 28:41  90 29  91 29:1–36  89 29:9  90 29:10–28  90 29:29  90 29:33  90 29:35  90 31:16  22, 39 32:1–34:28  88 32:18  51 32:29  90 34:24  54 34:29–40:38  88 39:1–39  89 Leviticus 1–16  90 3  100 3:17  29, 100 4:5  90 6:3–4  92 7:26  100 8  89, 91 8:33  90 10:20  116

280 Leviticus (cont.) 11  17, 27, 29 11:2  29 11:46  30 16  241 16:32  90 17  91, 100, 101 17–26  13, 17, 20, 21 17:4  102 17:7  239 17:10–13  29 17:11  100 17:14  100 18:3  12 18:24–30  102 19:2  61 19:16  155 19:26  173 20:2  51 20:25  30 21:10  90 21:12  107 21:23  107 23  17 24:8  39 24:17  102 24:19–21  98 26  39, 104 26:9  39 26:18  258 26:42  39 28:3  89 28:30  89 28:36  92 28:36–38  89 28:40  89 29:1  92 29:4  90 29:10  90 29:15  90 29:20  91 29:21  91, 92 29:43–44  92 31:10  89 40:34  92 44:19  92

Index of Scripture Numbers 1  28 3  28 3:3  90 4  28 11:14  58 15:39  62 21:34  164 26  28 26:64  117 32:13  259 35:9–34  102 35:33  102, 103 Deuteronomy 1–11  53, 60, 62 3:2  164 4:25  259 5  55, 57 5–11  177 5:18  59 5:19  59 5:21  51, 53, 54, 57, 58, 60 6:4–9  190 6:18  260 7  56 7:25  54 9  55 9:16  97 9:18  259 11:6  25 12  56, 100, 101 12:15–16  29 12:16  100 12:20  57, 100 12:21  58 12:23  100 12:25  101, 260 12:28  260 13:19  260 14:26  57 17:2  259 17:2–7  51 17:14–20  190, 195 17:19  196 17:20  190

Deuteronomy (cont.) 18:10  173 19:1–13  102 19:10  102 19:16–21  98 21:1–9  102 22:5  82 25:2  153 27–28  104 28:25  258 28:52–57  125 28:56  43 31:29  259 32  240 32:4  107 32:8  240 32:17  239, 240 32:24  238 38:54  62 Joshua 1  189, 190, 191 1:5  192 1:6  190 1:7  190 1:7–8  189 2  190 6:1–21  196 7:21  54 8:1–2  166, 171 11  3 11:6  165 11:10  1 15:17  252 15:59  8 Judges 1  248 1:1  256 1:1–2  255, 256 1:1–2:5  247, 248, 250, 254, 255, 256, 257 1:1–3:6  247, 256 1:1–4  256 1:1–7:25  250 1:2  192, 255 1:3  78

Index of Scripture Judges (cont.) 1:4  255 1:7  255, 257 1:9  56 1:11  251, 256 1:12  251, 252 1:13  252 1:14  168 1:16  256 1:17  256 1:19  255 1:22  255, 256, 257 1:23–26  255 1:28  184 2  252 2:1  254, 256 2:1–4  255 2:1–5  255 2:2  255 2:3  255 2:4–5  257 2:6  257 2:6–3:6  247, 248, 254, 257 2:6–12  192 2:7  255 2:10  255, 257 2:11  258 2:11–13  250, 255, 259 2:11–19  250 2:12  254 2:14–15  250 2:16–18  250 2:17  255 2:18  250, 255 2:19  250, 255, 257 2:20  259 3:6  247, 252, 255 3:7  253, 258 3:7–7:25  251 3:7–11  248, 251 3:7–16:31  247, 250 3:9  252 3:9–11  251 3:11  251, 252, 253 3:12  253, 258 3:12–31  248, 251

Judges (cont.) 3:14  252 3:15–25  252 3:17  252 3:22  252 3:27–29  252 3:30  251, 253 4–5  3 4:1  248, 253, 258 4:1–5:31  251 4:2–3  3 4:6  253 4:6–7  165, 253 4:7  253 4:8  253 4:9  253 4:14  253 4:15  253 4:21 32, 252 4:23  253 5:1–31  252 5:26  252 5:31  253 6–8  258 6–9  249 6:1  253, 258 6:1–8:32  248, 254 6:1–32  254 6:8–9  254 6:10  255 6:11  254 6:11–22  255 6:12  255 6:13  254, 255 6:16  255 6:24  254 6:25–32  255 6:29–30  255 6:33–7:25  254, 255 6:36–7:15  255 6:36–37  255 7  71, 255 7:2  255 7:7  255 7:9  255 7:12  254 7:14–15  255

281 Judges (cont.) 7:22  255 7:24–8:3  252 8:1–16:31  251 8:1–21  254, 255 8:1–21:25  250 8:10  254 8:14–16  255 8:22–32  254, 255 8:27  254, 255 8:28  251 8:28–32  253 8:32  254 8:33  253, 259 8:33–10:5  248 8:33–35  253 9:1–10:5  251 9:7–20  252 9:22  251 9:22–24  253 9:53  252, 253 9:56–57  253 10:6  253, 258 10:6–12:15  248, 251 10:8  252 11:12–28  252 11:31  252 11:36  196 12:1–6  252 12:7  251, 253 13:1  252, 253, 258 13:1–16:31  248, 251 14:1–3  252 14:1–15:20  251 14:7  252 14:10  252 15:1  252 15:9–13  252 15:10–11  252 15:13  114 16:1  252 16:4  252 16:30  252 16:31  251, 253 17:1–18:31  247, 248, 254, 255, 257 17:1–21:25  247, 256

282 Judges (cont.) 17:5  90, 255 17:6  259 17:12  90 18:1  259 18:5  256 18:14–20  255 18:30  257 19:1  259 19:1–21:25  247, 248, 254, 255, 256, 257 19:1–30  256 19:10–12  257 20  171 20:1–21:25  256 20:3  256 20:18  255, 256, 257 20:23  255, 256, 257 20:26  256, 257 20:27  256 20:27–28  255 20:28  256 20:30–31  256 20:31  257 20:46  254 21:1–25  256 21:2  257, 260 21:4  257 21:5  256 21:8  256 21:9  260 21:11  256 21:19  257 21:20  260 21:24  257 21:25  259 24:9  260 1 Samuel 9:16  192 10:1  192 12:17  259 15:19  259 15:23  173 16  242, 244 16:7  63 23  171

Index of Scripture 1 Samuel (cont.) 28  244 28:6  70 30:7–8  166, 171 2 Samuel 3:18  195 5  171 6:5  198 6:15  198 7  192 7:9  192 7:14  192 12:9  259 22  106 23:15  57 1 Kings 2  202 3:28  106 5:15  177 7:46  141 8:18  62, 63 10:8  262 11:6  259 11:33  260 11:38  260 13:33  90 14:8  260 14:22  259 15:5  260 15:11  260 15:26  259 15:34  259 16:7  259 16:19  259 16:25  259 16:30  260 20  171 20:13  165 21:25  260 22  242 22:43  260 22:52  260 2 Kings 3:2  260

2 Kings (cont.) 6:24–29  124, 125 8:18  260 8:27  260 10:30  260 12:3  260 13:2  260 13:11  260 14:3  260 14:24  260 15:3  260 15:9  260 15:18  260 15:24  260 15:28  260 15:34  260 16:2  260 17:2  260 17:17  173, 260 18–20  41 18:3  260 19:22  45 21:6  173, 260 21:16  260 21:20  260 22:2  260 23:19–20  51 23:30  173 23:32  260 23:37  260 24:4  103 24:10–16  42 24:19  260 25:1–21  42 Isaiah 1:29  58 2:1–4  41, 43 2:6  173 4:1  44 5:4  117 10:5–19  49 13:21  239 13:22  238 19:25  45 25:8  44 28–39  238, 241

Index of Scripture Isaiah (cont.) 28:2  238 30:18  262 34:14  238, 239, 241 36–37  42 37:23  45 37:24–28  49 38–39  42 40  42 40–48  42 40–66  42, 44, 45, 48 40:7  42 40:26  47 40:27  42 41:8–13  167, 168 41:21–24  42 43:1–7  168 44:1–5  168 44:7–8  42 44:25  173 45:22  43 47  41, 43, 46, 47, 49, 50 47:1  43, 47, 48, 49 47:1–9  50 47:2  48 47:3  44, 47 47:4  44, 45 47:5  43 47:6  45, 49 47:7  46 47:8  46 47:8–9  46 47:9  46 47:10  47 47:11  47 47:12  46 47:13  47 47:15  46, 47 48:2  44 49:8  45 50:8  114, 115 51:15  44 53:2  58 54  43, 49 54:1  47, 48, 49 54:1–9  50

Isaiah (cont.) 54:2  48 54:4  44, 46, 47 54:5  43, 44, 45 54:6  43, 46 54:7  45, 46 54:7–8  49 54:8  44, 45, 46 54:9  45 54:10  45, 46 54:12  45 54:13  45, 47 54:14  45, 47 54:17  45, 47 56:2  262 58:14  45 59:2–8  97 59:7  103 63:17  45 65:11  240 65:17–18  43 66:19  43 Jeremiah 1:1–3  125 6:7  97 10:16  44 11:20  64 17:16  58 19  125 22:3  107 22:17  62 26:1–11  202 27:9  173 29:8  173 31:29  269 31:35  44 32:18  44 40:5  42 41:1–3  42 46:18  44 48:15  44 50:29  45 50:34  44 50:39  238 51:5  45 51:19  44

283 Jeremiah (cont.) 51:35  97 52:30  42 Ezekiel 6:9  62 6:9–10  98 7  97 7:23–27  97 7:24  107 7:27  98 11:11–12  98 16:38  103 17:1–12  190 18  99, 103 18:2  269 18:6  62 18:10  103 18:31–32  99 20:7  62 21–37  107 22  101 22:23–29  97 22:25  101 22:30–31  103, 107 23:27  62 23:45  103 24:21  107 25:12–14  98 25:17  196 26:2  107 28  107 28:13  107 28:14  107 28:15  106, 107 33:6  104 36:18  103 39:7  45 42:14  92 45:9  107 45:9–12  97 Hosea 13:14  238 Joel 4:19  97

284 Amos 3:10  97 4:13  44 5:8  44 5:18  57 5:27  44 6:3–7  97 Amos (cont.) 9:6  44 Obadiah 10  97 Micah 2:2  54 3:7  173 4:1–3  41 6:9–12  97 6:12  97 7:1  57 Nahum 1:11  168 1:11–13  168 1:11–15  168 1:12  168 1:12–2:1  168 2:1  168 Habakkuk 3:5  238 Zephaniah 1:4–9  97 1:9  97 3:3–5  97 3:14–20  169 Psalms 1  188, 189, 190, 191, 192, 194, 196 1–2  188, 189, 193, 195, 197 1–41  189 1:1  115, 197, 262 1:3  190, 192

Index of Scripture Psalms (cont.) 1:5–6  192 1:6  195, 197 2  188, 191, 192, 196, 198 2:2  192, 194 2:6  190, 195 2:6–7  195 2:6–12  192 2:7  192, 195 2:8–9  192 2:9  197 2:9–12  196, 197 2:10  189, 190, 197 2:11  197 2:12  197, 262 3  192 4:6  116 4:7  116 6:2  115 7:1  116 8  105 9:11  116 9:13  104 10:14  115 10:17  57 15  107 15:1  107 17:3  64 17:7  116 18  106 18:31–33  107 18:44  115 19:11  58 25:7  116 27:10  115 27:12  97 27:14  116 28:1  112 31:25  116 32:3  262 35:6  116 35:11  97 40:4  116 40:5  262 40:11  116 41:14  193

Psalms (cont.) 44:3  115 45:5  116 65:5  262 71:22  45 72  192 72:9  238 72:10  238 72:11  115 72:18  193 72:20  192 73:6–12  97 76:4  238 78:41  45 78:48  238 82:1  64 84:5  262 89:16  262 89:19  45 89:53  193 90–150  238 91:5  238 91:6  238 94:12  262 95:5  240 101–150  196 105–150  187 105:37  240 106:37  239 106:48  193 115:16  201 119:1  262 119:94  116 119:125  116 120  196 127:5  262 128:1  262 132:12  196 137:8  262 139:12  115 142:5  105 145–150  193 145:1  195 145:6  115 145:17  197 145:21  193, 194 146–50  193

Index of Scripture Psalms (cont.) 146–150  193 146:3  195 146:5–9  195 146:7–9  195 146:9  195 146:10  195 147  195, 196 148–49  197 148:11  197 148:13  197 149  196 149:5–9  196, 197, 198 149:7  196 149:7–9  197 149:9  197 150:3–5  198 150:5  198 Job 5:17  262 12:15  114, 115 23:13  58 28:22  116 31:1  62 34:18  195 Proverbs 1–9  262 1:7  269 1:22  58 1:24  267 2:16  267 2:17  267 3:13  262, 267 3:19  267 3:30  267 4:11  267 4:13  267 4:14  267 5:12  267 6:1  267 6:16–19  103 6:25  58 7:5  267 7:6–23  267 7:13  267

Proverbs (cont.) 7:14  267 7:15  267 7:16  267 7:21  267 7:23  267 8:2  267 8:12  267 8:13  263, 267 8:22  267 8:23  267 8:24  267 8:25  267 8:26  267 8:32  262, 267 8:34  262 9:1–4  267 9:2  267 9:5  267 9:12  263, 267 9:13  267 9:14  267 10  262 10–29  262 10:1–22:16  265 11:2  261, 266, 269, 270 11:7  269 11:8  269 11:21  261, 269, 270 12:12  58, 266, 269 12:21  269, 270 13:1  269 13:12  57 13:23  266 13:24  269 14:1  269, 270 14:6  266, 269 14:7  263, 266 14:18  261, 266, 269 14:31  269 16:4  269 16:26  269 16:30  269 17:5  269 17:14  266 18:3  266 18:8  269

285 Proverbs (cont.) 18:22  269 19:7  269 19:11  269 19:19  266 19:24  266, 269 19:29  266, 269 20:9  267 21:2  64 21:4  62 21:10  58, 269 21:22  268, 269 21:26  269 21:29  269 22:2  269 22:3  269 22:12  269 22:13  266, 269 22:19  267 22:20  267 22:26–28  56 22:28  267 22:29  263 23:7  267 23:8  269 23:10  56 23:15  267 23:22  267 23:35  267 24:1  58 24:2  56 24:10  263, 269 24:12  267 24:14  263, 267 24:29  267 24:30  267 24:30–34  268 24:31  266 25:1  267 25:1–29:17  265 25:7  267 25:16  263, 268, 269 26:7  266, 269 26:9  269 26:12  263, 269 26:13  266, 269 26:15  266

286 Proverbs (cont.) 26:19  267 26:22  269 27:12  269 27:25  266 28:1  266, 269 28:14  262 29:13  269 29:20  263 29:30  269 30:3  267 30:4  267 30:7  269 30:12  269 30:15  269 30:16  269 30:18  263, 267

Index of Scripture Proverbs (cont.) 30:20  267 30:32  267 31  261, 263, 271 31:1  267 31:11  266 31:29  263 32:20  262 34:9  262 36:6  62 38:22  62 41:2  262 106:3  262 Qoheleth 3:8  175 1:9  62

Lamentations 4:13  103 5:1–12  46 Daniel 1:1–2  42 10:20  243 12:12  262 2 Chronicles 9:7  262 11:15  239 13:9  90 20:1–27  196 29:31  90

New Testament Matthew 5:27–28  57 Luke 2:7  222 John 1:1  219

1 Corinthians 10:20  240 10:20–21  240 Hebrews 1:5  192

1 John 5:16–17  223, 224 Revelation 9:20  240

Deuterocanonical Literature Sirach 15  193