Virtual History and The Bible

VIRTUAL HISTORY
AND THE BIBLE

EDITED BY
J. CHERYL EXUM
"'~-I"GIO~
~ ~
-
7
< ~
~
? ~
< ,
. I 6 s) .
BRILL
LEIDEN· BOSTON· KOLN
2000
This book is printed on acid-free paper.
Cover design: TopicA (Antoincuc Hanekuyk)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Virtual history and the Bible / edited by J. Cheryl Exum.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references.
ISBN 9004115552
I. Bible~History of biblical c\'ellts~Miscellanea. 2. Bible-History of
contemporary events~Miscellanca. 3. Bible-Historiography--l\·liscellanca.
I. Exum,J. Cheryl.
BS635.2.V57 1999
220.9'5-dc21 99-049028
CIP
Die Deutsche Bibliothek - CIP-Einbeitsaufnalune

Virtual history and the bible / ed. byJ. Cheryl Exum. - Leidcn ;
Boston; Koln : Brill, 1999
ISBN 9O--(}4-11555-2
ISBN 9004115552
Q Copyright 2000 by Koninklfjke Brilln<\ Ltidell, Tlu Nethtrlilluu

All rights rtsmJ/d. No part rf this publicatioll may be reproJucM, tromM/ed, S/{Jred in
a retrieval.rys/cII, or transmit/d i'l anyj(lfm (If by any meaJiJ, electronic,
mtc!u11/icaJ, Pho/{)(opying, recording (If otherwise, OC1·thOU/ prior unt/m
permissWllftom th publisher.
Authorkation /{J photocopy itemsjor internal or persoTllll

use is gr(l1Iled by Brill proviJed thai
the approprWteJees are paid direct!>' /{J The Copyrighl
Clearance Center, 222 RouUlOQ(/ Dn·ve, Suite 910
Danvers MA 01923, Us;!.
Fees are Jubject to change.
PRI:vrED IN THE NETHERLA."DS

CONTENTS
J. CHERYL EXUM
Why Virtual History? Alternatives, Counterfacluals, and
the Bible , .
KEITH W. WHITELAM
'Israel Is Laid Waste; His Seed Is No More': What
If Merneptah's Scribes Were Telling the Truth? . 8
LESTER L. CRABBE
Add£ Praeputium PraejJUlio Magnus Acer'Vus Ent: If the
Exodus and Conquest Had Really Happened ... 23
SUSAN ACKERMAN
What If Judges Had Been Wriuen by a Philistine? . 33
THOMAS L. THOMPSON
If David Had Not Climbed the Moum of Olives . 42
ERNST AXEL KNAUF
~i~l~nfn~~~ii~~I~fa~~~~:~s~~~..~.i.~.!.~~~.I.l.~.~.~~~~:..~~~:.' . ~~:. 59
EJ.IUD BEN ZV)
Israel, Assyrian Hegemony, and Some Considerations
about Virtual Israelite History . 70
DIANA EDELMAN
What If We Had No Accounts of Sennachcrib's Third
Campai~n or the Palace Reliefs Depicting His Capture of
Lachish . 88
ROBERT P. CARROLL
The Loss of Armageddon, or, 621 and All That: Biblical
Fiction, Biblical History and the Rewriuen Bible . 104
NIELS PETER LEr.ICHE
What If Zedekiah Had Remained Loyal to His Master? 115
JOSEPH BLENKINSOPP
A Case of Benign Imperial Neglect and Its Consequences 129
A. GRAEME AULD
What If the Chronicler Did Use the Deuteronomistic
History? . . . 137
PHILIP R. DAVIES
If the Lord's Anointed Had Lived 151
LOVEDAY C.A. ALEXANDER
What If Luke Had Never Met Theophilus? 161
RICHARD BAUCKHAM
What If Paul Had Travelled East rather than West? ... 171
JOHN DOMINIC CROSSAN
Earliest Christianity in COllnterfactual Focus ....... 185
PHEME PERKINS
If Jerusalem Stood: The Destruction of Jerusalem and
Christian Anti:Jlldaism . 194
WHY VIRTUAL HISTORY?
ALTERNATIVES, COUNTERFACTUALS,
AND THE BIBLE
J. CHERYL EX UM
University oj ShtfJie/tf
[RJecourse to divine intcr.clllion to explain the

unexpected illustrates the importance of
contingency in history.
Herbert Butterfield I
Inevitability is only in retrospect and the
inevitability of determinism is explanatory rather
than predictive.
Michael Scrivcn 2
How call we 'exphlin whal happened and why' if we
only look at whal happened and never consider the
alternatives
Hugh TrcYOI'-Ropcr'
No one knows better than a biblical hiSlOrian that the millen-

nium, so anxiously awaited by so many, is a Western, Christian
construct, and an inaccurate one at that, both in terms of the
probable dating of the birth of Jesus and in terms of counting,
for logically the millennium begins with 2001. But as we move illlo
what much of the world is celebrating as the new millennium, the
twenty-first century, it seems fitting for those of us working in a
discipline whose subject is an ancielll text with considerable con-
temporary currency to reflect on where we are at the fin de sieck
and how we got that way. What if important events in ancient
I Herbert Butterfield, Tile Origins of HiS/Of)' (ed. Adam Watson: London: Eyre
Methuen, 1981), PI" 200-201, cited by Niall Ferguson, Mlntroduction: Virtual
History: Towards a 'Chaotic' Theory of the Past," in Ferguson (cd.), VirlUal His-
/01)': Alternatives (md Cml.n/erjaC/llau (London: Picador, 1997), p. 20.
2 Michael Scriven, "Truisms as G]'ounds for Historical Explanations," in
Patrick Gardiner (cd.), T1leories oj History (London: Allen & Unwin, 1959), pp.
47Q.-71, cited by Ferguson, "Introduction,- p. 71.
5 Hugh Tre\'or-Roper, "History and Imagination,- in Valerie Pearl. Blair
Worden, and Hugh Lloyd:loncs (cds.), HiS/Of)' and Imaginatioll: t;Ssays ill Hot/Ollr
oj /-I.R. 7"rroor-Roprr (London: Duckworth. 1981), pp. 363fT" cited by Ferguson,
"Introduction," p. 85.
2 J. CHERYL EXUM
history had turned out differently? How different might the pres-
ent century be?
Such questions are the subject of this millennial issue of Biblical
Inler/mtation, an issue that marks our seventh year of publication.
Although they approach the question "what ir from different
angles, the sixteen essays in this volume share a commitment to
the historical enterprise: they represent serious scholarly inquiry
into alternative historical possibilities, not simply fiction or fan-
Lasy. Spanning morc than three millennia, from the evidence of
the Merneplah stele to the consequences of the Je",ish War of 66-
70 CE for the subsequcm developmclll of Christian thought, they
give a picture of what could have been: a Solomonic empire a few
decades after the "conquest"; a Philistine book ofJudges celebrat·
ing Delilah's role; a defeat of Assyria by the combined forces of
Jehu and Hazael in the ninth century BeE; the survival and per-
haps economic flourishing of the Northern Kingdom until the end
of the Assyrian period; a Bible without the Deuteronomistic His-
tory and any deuteronomistic edition of the prophets; a Judaism
confined to segregated enclaves in different countries; a failed
Maccabean revolt and a different history of Jewish relations with
Rome; a very different kind of Judaism with knock-on effects for
the development (or not) of Christianity and Islam; a Christianity
that remained part of Judaism; a Christianity without a heritage
of anti:Judaism; a New Testament without Luke-Acts, or without
Paul and his influence.
Some turn uaditional questions around to test what passes for
"fact" and "evidence" in biblical historiography: What if the exo-
dus and conquest had really happened? At the least we would have
a very different Bible. What if Merneptah's scribes were telling
the truth? The biblical historian should take seriously the possi-
bility that they were and its implications, for the traditional as-
sumption of a direct link bet\veen the Israel of the Merneptah stele
and later Israel ignores the shifting, situational, and subjective
nature of ethnicity. What if the Chronicler used the Deutero-
nomistic History? Posing the question this way not only illustrates
the difficulty of proving literary dependence but also the fruit-
fulness of reformulating the traditional questions to ask how
comparisons with Chronicles can help liS to understand better the
literary history ofJoshua, Judges, Samuel, and Kings. Other essays
use alternatives to bring to light the process by which historians
reach conclusions about "what happened" and why. What if we
ALTERNATIVES, COUNTERFACTUALS, AND THE BIBLE 3
did not have the account of Sennacherib's third campaign or the

palace reliefs depicting the capture of Lachish? The effect on the
reconstruction of this period by historians of Judah would not be
so great as one might imagine. Was the Northern Kingdom's de-
cision to join Syria in a coalition against Assyria inevitable? Tak-
ing one "fact" that is generally agreed upon-the change in
Israel's policy toward Assyria between 736 and 735/4 BeE-and
exploring the serious possibility of a counterfact and its probable
consequences-Israelite alignment with Assyria-contributes to a
bener understanding of the forces that shaped Israel's decision
by foregrounding issues of causality, contingency, and the role of
structural or systemic considerations in Israelite histOl)'.
One of the real benefits of conside.-ing counterfactuals is that
it teaches us about reasoning historically. Viltual Histo")' and the
Bible is not just about what might have happened; it is about how
biblical historians work to synthesize and evaluate evidence, posit
theories, and test historical reconstructions. Reconstructing the
events in Judah and Philistia at the end of the eighth century BCE
without the evidence of Sennacherib's account or the palace re-
liefs, and then looking at the picture we get when we add them to
the equation, illustrates how much can be learned, and reason-
ably reconstructed, from piecing together the evidence of other
extra-biblical sources, archaeological evidence, and the biblical
account. Scholars have largely abandoned the biblical representa-
tion of the exodus and conquest, but not that of the exile and
restoration. But to what extent is the exile and restoration sce-
nario a virtual history constructed by biblical historians? Compar-
ing commonly accepted reconstructions of these formative
"events" to a virtual history scenario that pursues the possible
consequences had Zedekiah not revolted against Babylonia in 587
BeE is a way of bringing a highly debated issue into sharper focus.
The idea for this volume came from my friend Philip Mottram,
to whom lowe a word of sincere thanks for repeatedly urging me
to consider the project. The inspiration for the volume was a re-
cent book edited by Niall Ferguson entitled Virtual History: Alter-
natives and Canterfactuals. Ferguson's volume deals with what a
biblical scholar would consider recent history, beginning in the
seventeenth centul)' with the English Civil War and ending with
the collapse of Communism in the 19905, and it can afford a
luxul)' not generally available to biblical scholars: the alternative
outcomes posited in his collection are those that con temporal)'
4 J. CHERYL EXUM
evidence indicated were actually considered at the time. Some-

times biblical historians are fortunate in having the kind of evi-
dence enjoyed by historians of later periods:
The claim on the Merneplah stele dearly fulfils [Ferguson's) condition
that only those alternatives which cOnlcmporal"ies nOt only considered but
commiued to paper (or some other form of record) which has survived
should be seriously entertained ... Yet the counterfacwal question-'What
if Mcrncptah's scribes were telling the lll.llh?'----<:arrics much greater weighl
than those considered by Ferguson and his miler contributors. Mernep-
tah's scribes did not just consider this plausible, they presented it as
actuaIiIY,~
But biblical his LOry, on the whole, lacks such a valuable degree of
corroborative evidence, especially for earlier periods. The Bible
is often the single witness to the events it proclaims, and, as Mar-
tin Noth observed long ago with reference to !.he Hebrew Bible,
any light it sheds on the history of the times is purely accidental. 5
Does !.his mean, then, that all biblical history is virtual history,
as a colleague from another university quipped, upon hearing of
this project? The essays in this volume do not represent a univo-
cal position with regard to the possibilities and limitations of the
historical method and its procedures. What they consistently re~
veal, however, is that biblical historiography, at its best, is the re~
suit of informed analysis based on all available evidence-biblical
and extra-biblical literal)' sources, with their ideological biases;
archaeological data, including geographical and natural factors;
and comparative anthropology. A useful means in deciding what
counts for "fact" and "evidence'" is the analogy of the courtroom:
Whcn thcrc is only a single sourcc of tcstimony or I"hcn conflicting tcsti-
mony is presented over Ihe samc cvent, it is the task of the historian to
evaluate the tcstimony and decide what may be reliablc and what probably
is not and to thcn rcnder a \'crdict abom what. if anything. is going to be
accepted as reliable evidence undcr thc circumstances. using his or her best
judgment. In this approach to history, it is ]·ccogni:.o:ed that evidence need
not be limitcd to those pieces of information that can bc \'crificd ... Recog-
nb.ing that all historical recrcation is intcrpretive and so subjectivc, his-
torians who usc thc courtroom modcl for undcrstanding the e\'aluatiol1 of
testimony will accept somc critically cvaluatcd dctails in the biblical ac-
count to be reliable without absolute corroboration. 6
Virtual history is another matter, involving speculation of a dif-

ferent, but equally sophisticated nature. Ferguson defines virtual
• Whitelam, pp. 11-12 in this volume.

~ Martin Noth. Tht History oj Imul (New York: Harper & Row. 1960), p. 46.
6 Edelman. p. 82 in this volumc.
ALTER.'lATIVES, COUNTER.'ACTUALS, AND THE BIBLE 5
histo'}' as counterfactuals or "simulations based on calculations

about the relative probability of plausible outcomes in a chaotic
world,"7 "Chaotic" in this definition does not mean anarchy but
rather refers to chaos theory, whose philosophical significance fur
historians, according to Ferguson, is that it reconciles the notions
of causation and contingency.s Thus one can speak of cause and
effect and, at the same time, recognize that causation is not pre-
ordained by certain laws: chaotic "means unpredictable outcomes
even when successive events are causally Iinked."g "[I)fwe want to
say anything about causation in the past without invoking cover-
ing laws, we really have to use countelfactuals, if only to test our
causal hypotheses, "10
The role played by colllingency should not be underestimated.
We do not possess all the literature of ancient Israel and early
Christianity. Extra-biblical evidence from ancient Egypt and
Mesopotamia has sUlvived by chance, only to be rediscovered in
the eighteenth centu'}' and afterwards, Literary and non-litera'}'
artifacts are a matter of (lucky) survival of the fittest l' -tablets
laS( longer than parchmelll, pyramids have a vast advantage over
mud brick, Given both the nature and the paucity of OUl" sources-
and, no less relevant for the histo'}' of the discipline, the theo-
logical (ideological) interests at stake in much biblical intel'preta-
tion-much reconstruction of biblical "histo'}''' is hotly contested.
Even the disinterested historian, in weighing evidence and ascrib-
ing meaning to it, innuences the outcome, for, as Ferguson points
out, "any observation of historical evidence inevitably distorts its
significance by the ve'}' fact of its selection through the prism of
hindsight."12 Contingency, moreover, is already deeply inscribed
in the Bible and in most of our ancient sources, which ascribe the
apparently inexplicable, and even the explicable, to gods inter-
vening in human affairs, What happens to biblical characters, for
example, "is not by their own decision or choice but by the will of
God: by necessity, This is a litera'}' voice, which deals with virtual
7 Ferguson. "Introduaion," p. 85.

8 Ferguson, "Iutroduction," p. 79. Ferguson acknowledges the influence of
ideas aoom causation ill the sciences.
9 Ferguson, "Introduction," p. 79.
10 Ferguson, "1Illroduaion," p. 81.
II See Ferguson's comments abOlll cOl1lingenc), in the natural sciences, es·
pecially gene theory, and its relation to history, ~Introdllction: pp. ;1,79.
12 Ferguson, "Introduction," p, 74: similarl)', p. 89.
6 J. CHERYL EXUM
histories as a matter of course. HisLOrical causality is Yahweh's, a

historical necessity which is inscrutable and ineffable."IS
It could be argued that the decisions or aClions of one person,
or one incident occulTing differently or not happening at all,
would not have been very important for the general course of
hislOI)', the "big picture" that history often seeks to bring into view.
The hiStory of Western philosophy might have been different if I'lato and
Aristotle had not existed, but the philosophy of antiquity would probably
have been able 10 produce olher independent minds. Plato and Aristotle
did not create their philosophical systems out of nothing, but based them
on a very long tradition of thinking, be it Greek or Oriental. The next
gencrations of philosophers were more or less bound by the systems of
thelr great teachers. Had these teachers nOl lived, they would have had to
creatc their own systcms. 14
What if Merneptah's scribes were telling the truth? It makes little

difference in terms of the transformation of Iron Age Palestine.
What if Paul had travelled east rather than west? The churches of
Mesopotamia might have been as important as those in the West,
and the character of Christian theology in the East might have
been different, but Christianity would still have spread with much
the same long-term effects. On the other hand, without going to
the reductive extreme of pinning the fate of Rome on Cleopatra's
nose, it is hard not to imagine that changes in the factors involved
would result in the kinds of alternative scenarios presented here.
"Asking the 'what if questions of virtual history is a way of mb-
bing our noses in history's essential contingency-in the fact that
things could have been different, that human choices (among
other contingencies) actually matter."lS
It is not only people or events determined by human aClion that
shape history; geographical, economic, environmental and natu-
ral faclors play crucial roles in deciding the course of events. The
variables are many, and "inevitability is only in retrospect," as
Michael Scriven aptly puIS it. Christianity has been such a power-
ful influence on Western history and culture that "it is hard not
to think of it all as inevitable, as if a force had been unleashed
upon the world that nothing could ever have changed, let alone
stopped."t6 But if Christianity had not spread to major cities, had
not accepted pagans, or had been proscribed earlier by Rome and
" Thompson. p. 54 in this volumc.

14 Lemche. pp. 116-17 in this volume.
I~ Alexander, p. 161 in this volume.
16 ClOssan, p. 185 in this volume.
ALTERNATIVES, COUNTER.'ACTUALS, AND THE BIBLE 7
persecuted more systematically, it could have failed to take root. 17

Counterfactuals are helpful as a heuristic device; investigating
alternative historical scenarios can sharpen our framing of the
important questions. "Explodng countenactuals is an elaborate
game. But, like many games, it is played with serious intent. When
played with success, dealing in 'what ifs' may lead us to put better
questions to the old, long available information."18 Moreover,
"countel-factual history helps to focus on 'history' as lived by the
participants in the events, rather than as narrated by those who
know 'the end. 'I'
It raises the issue of which alternativcs lhcy had and, as such, contributes
10 a betlcr reconSlI'uction of thc historical period, for their participants did
not know "the cnd:' In addition, it shows how the outcome of the
vicissitudes of human agency (theirs or somcone else's), wisdom or folly,
and contingencies beyond their control affecled their lives and sometimes
sealed their fates. As such. it may also open a window into their world.
including the way in which they made sense of their SI01)'.19
In their vat;ous ways, the essays in this volume open a window

on the ancielll world. Without the idea and the inspiration, would
this volume have come into being (to return briefly to the realm
of "what if," or counterfactuals)? I knew from the outset that its
viability would depend on whether or not scholars known for their
contributions to the historiography of ancient Israel and early
Christianity could be interested in it. One scholar responded that
he was too busy writing about what did happen to write about what
might have happened. This is not only an interesting perspective
on the whole notion of countel{actuals,20 but it raises as well the
question how can we explain what happened if we do not con-
sidel' that what happened was only one of a number of possible
outcomes. Fortunately, however, as the contents of the volume
indicate, the response I received was overwhelmingly positive, and
I would like to take this opportunity to thank the contributors who,
with their enthusiasm, expertise, and imagination, have turned
Virluall-fist01y and the Bible into a reality. I also wish to thank my
dedicated and capable editorial assistants, Andrew Davies and
Fiona Black, for their work on this volume.
17 Three wars against Romc provide a fourth factor in this scenario discUSJicd
by Crossan.
18 Auld, pp. 149,50 ill this volume.
19 Bell Zvi, p. 76 ill this volume.
ro See Ferguson's critical response to this position of hislorians, "llllroduc-
tion.~ pp. 2,7 el frassim.
'ISRAEL IS LAID WASTE; HIS SEED IS NO MORE':
WHAT IF MERNEPTAH'S SCRIBES WERE TELLING
THE TRUTH?
KEITH W. WHlTELAM
University of Slirling
The Limits of Scepticism

Recent belligerem exchanges in the controversy surrounding
the emergence of Israel in Palestine during the Late Bronze-Iron
Age transition have included a call for a return to orthodoxy. This
defence of oflhodoxy has been organized around the clarion call
that there must be 'limits to skepticism' (Halla 1990: 188) when
assessing the biblical traditions for historical reconstruction.]
Halpern envisages an end to the influence of the so-called mini-
malists with the comment that 'the creeping critical rejection of
biblical accounts has reached its natural limits' (1997: 314 n. 9).
The other rallying call to the defenders of orthodoxy has been
the claim that it is vital to use 'all available evidence'. Increasingly,
such claims appear to be a longed for return to the golden age of
Albright and the giants of the discipline, earlier in the century,
when the biblical traditions were accorded a privileged position
in historical reconstruction, Ironically, this means, in effect, a
dismissal of the aitical methodological issues and approaches
derived from literary sludies and hisloriography which have occu-
pied cenlre stage within biblical studies for the pasl quarter of a
1 Hallo's central point concerns the debate o\'er whether or not cuneiform
sources are adequate for reconstructing ancient Near Eastelll hislOry, institutions,
and society, IntereStingly, he refers to the proponents within the debate as
minimalists and maximalists. He then enters into the question of the use of bib-
lical traditions for historical reconstruction, concluding that 'one can hardly deny
the realiry of a conquest from abroad, implying a previous period of wander-
ings, a dramatic escape from the prior place of residence and an oppression there
that prompted the escape', His rallying call on the limits to scepticism has been
taken up recently by a number of biblical scholars. Similarly, Elton (1991; 41),
in his Relum 10 Essentials, sounds the battle cry for historians, likening the fight
against scepticism to the fight against the evils of drugs; 'Cert'linly. we are fight-
ing for the lives of innocent young people beset by devilish tempters who claim
to offer higher forms of thought and deeper truths and insights-the intellec-
tual equivalent of crack.'
WHAT H' MERNEPTAH'S SCRIBES WERE TELLING THE TRUTH? 9
century, signalling a relUrn to the situation where archaeology is

used to fill the gaps within the biblical narratives. Whybray, in
ruling out archaeology and comparative anthropology as adequate
for writing what he considers a continuous history of ancient Is-
rael, argues that 'if none of these methods can provide an ad-
equate basis for the writing of a history of Israel, it would seem
that if such a history is to be written, the biblical text, howe\·er
liable to correction, must be taken as a foundation' (1996: 72; see
also Yamauchi 1994: 5).
The result of such an approach, with the proviso of varying de-
grees of critical acknowledgment of difficulties inherent in the
text, is the production of skeletal histories focused upon the his-
tory of events, biography, and political history. Provan, who places
great emphasis on the 'integrity' of the biblical text., complains
that revisionists disregard what he calls 'the plain sense of the text.'
(1995: 596). He argues elsewhere that t.he biblicaltcxt is 'treated
with a scepticism quite out of proportion to that which is evident
when any other data relating to Israel's history are being consid-
ered' (Provan 1995: 602). Similarly, Kitchen claims that 'time and
again the "minimalists" simply spend their time trying to wriggle
out of explicit evidence, instead of facing up to it'. Davies [1992:
58-60] has to admit that the Merenptah victory-stela names "ls-
rael"-but then tries to a\'oid the implicat.ions of this term by
warning on about Scots/PicLS, Britons/British, Dutch/ /kutsch, elC.,
that have nothing to do with the casc' (1998: ] 14).
The Mcrneptah stele, of course, provides a pivotal role in the
debate both in terms of attempts to interpret the archaeological
data for the ute Bronze·lron Age transition and also the biblical
evidence. Countless pages discuss the significance of the determi-
native, its implications for understanding the nature of Israel, the
structure of the inscription and whether or not this olTers clues
to the relative imparlance or location of Israel, and the relation-
ship between Merneptah's Israel and the spread of rural settle-
ments within the P.lIestinian highlands. Dever believes that
Merneptah's reference to Israel settles the issue of the ethnic iden-
tity of the inhabitants of these early Iron Age setLiements: 'If
Merneptah's "lsrael" is not to be identified, at least approximately,
with our new-found hill-<:ountry complex (not "tribal groups"),
lhen where was il?' (1996: 17), JUSI as Kilchen claims lhatthc
minimalists ignore this 'explicit evidence', so Provan maintains
that 'here we have an early piece of extra-biblical evidence which
10 KEITH W. WHITELAM
refers to Israel as a distinguishable entity in Palesline'(1995: 596).2

But what is remarkable about the defence of orthodoxy is that the
limiL" of scepticism have been breached in silence. The integril:)'
of the text, 'its plain sense', explicitly claims that Israel, whatever
its size, organization, or location, has been wiped out. The answer
to De,,'er's question, 'where was it?', might be that it has been
destroyed by Merneptah '5 troops. Yet few, if any of !.he proponents
within the debate-so called 'minimalists' or 'maximalists'-take
the claim seriollsly.g However, the 'plain sense of the text' ought
to lead to the conclusion that !.his Israel is no more. To connect
the settlement of the highlands to Merneplah's Israel and iden·
lity them with it is LO pursue what Marc Bloch long ago called 'the
fetish of the single cause' (1954: 193). Such a connection has to
be demonstrated not assumed, As Bloch (1954: 197) remarked at
the end of his incomplete study of the historian's craft, 'In a word,
in history, as elsewhere, the causes cannot be assumed. They are
to be looked for', The limits of scepticism work in both directions:
why should we disbelieve the claim of Merneptah's scribes?
Minimalist scepticism is consistent with their pathological state:
they continually practice the hermeneutics of suspicion. Yet the
defenders against the tidal wave of postmodernism sweeping across
biblical studies dismiss the claim of Merneptah's scribes as Egyp-
tian hyperbole while claiming mat ulere must be limits to scepti-
cism and that the biblical traditions are LO be trusted,4
2 Kitchen (1998: 100-103) discusses the meillion of Israel on the Mernepmh

stela concluding that it refers to a group of people located in the uplands and
valleys of Canaan. This is used as evidence for the existence and location of 1.5-
rael in Palestine in 1209/1208 fIC£. Hallo (1990: 194), as man)' others, refers to
the Memeptah stele as evidence for 'the existence of a collective entity known
as Israel' before the end of the thirteenth century ReE.
'Ahlstrom (1991: 30) ofTers a revised translation, '!smel is laid waste, her
grain is no more', arguing that 'Israel' is a geographical designation whose crops
have been desolated and therefore lies empty following LOtal devastation. He
believes thaI lhe settlers in the territory after Merneptah's devastation became
known as Israel 'nml if of difTerent ethnic backgrounds' (1991: 34) .
.. Gordon (1994: 298), in a study of the David tradition, concludes thaI there
should be limits to our scepticism. 'After all, the one thing about .....hich .....e can
be fairl~' certain is that the nihilists (or Halpern's "negative fundamenl.alists~)
have got it wrong when tlley gratefully accept externally unattested names like
David and Solomon but deny tllat their reigns are at all accessible via the litera-
lure that purporl.$ to describ<: them.' But it is not <:lear why thi~ is certain. How
arc lhe e\'ents and descriptions of lhe biblical leXlS accessible through the litera-
ture in comparison wilh the problems which have llOW been raised ahom exter-
nal evidence for any significant state structures in the tenth century BeE?
WHAT 11-' MERNEPTAH'S SCRIBES WERE TELLING THE TRUTH? II
The response, of course, as to why scholars ignore the plain

sense of the text, dismissing it as Egyptian scribal hyperbole, is
that it is contradicted by the existence of Israel in Palestine at a
later date. Leaving aside the rancerous debate on the Israelite
monarchy, or more specifically how early a recognizable state
appeared in Iron Age Palestine, the subsequent references to Is-
rael in the inscription of Shalmaneser III and later external refer-
ences contradict the Egyptian claim. However, such a response is
based upon the unargued assumption of a direct relationship
between Merneptah's 'Israel' and later 'Israel'. The claim by
Merneptah's scribes ought to, at least, force the historian to take
seriously the possibility and its implications. It is easy to dismiss
the question, 'What if Merneptah 's scribes were telling the truth?',
as mere fantasy, a charge already levelled at recent scholarship
(Kitchen 1998: 114). Yet such a question fits the test laid down by
Ferguson (1997: 85): 'The counterfactual scenarios we therefore
need to construct are not mere fantasy: they are simulations based
on calculations about the relative probability of plausible outcomes
in a chaotic world (hence "virtual history").' He adds that 'we are
obliged to construct plausible alternative pasts on the basis of
judgements about probability; and these can be made only on the
basis of historical evidence' (Ferguson 1997: 87).
In the case of Israelite histol)', we are increasingly faced with a
choice between a series of competing pasts as the anchor points
of canonical biblical history-the patriarchs, exodus, United Mon-
archy-have been undermined. A key test for the defenders of
orthodoxy in tJle construction of such canonical biblical histories
remains plausibility and verisimilitude." As Ferguson notes, in try-
ing to distinguish be(\veen probable unrealized alternatives from
improbable ones, 'we should consider as plausible or probable oni)'
those alternatives which we can show on the basis oj contemporary evi-
dence lhal contemporaries actually cQ'lsidered' (1997: 86). The claim
on the Merneptah stele clearly fulfils his condition tJlat only those
alternatives that contemporaries not only considered but commit-
ted to paper (or some other form of record) which has survived
should be seriously entenained (Ferguson 1997: 87).6 Yet the
~ See Miller (1997: 18,22) on lhe use of plausibilily or verisimililude as a

leSI of the historicity of the biblical lraditions. The use of \'erisimilitude in con-
temporary 'biblical' histories is titde more lhan whal Raphael Samuel (1990)
dismissed as the melhodology of 'nah"e realism'.
~ Ferguson (1997: 86) implies thaI 'all hislOll' is the hislOll' of (recorded)
counterfaetual question-'What if Merneptah's scribes were tell-

ing the truth?'-carries much greater weight than those con sid-
creel hy Fe:rgll.'mn and hi... olher cOlllrihlllors. Mernepl.ah's scrihes
did nOljusl consider this plausible, they presented it as actuality.
What if Merneptah's scribes were telling the truth?
Ethnicily and Merneptah s Israel

The question forces a much sharper focus on a critical issue
which has assumed centre slage in recent combative exchanges
on the emergence of Israel in Palestine. Bimson's certainty that
'there is no reason at all to doubt that the Israel of the stela is
biblical Israel of the premonarchic period' and that 'it is quite
unreasonable to deny that the Merenptah's inscription refers to
biblical Israel' (1991: 14), or Kitchen's assertion that 'Moab, Seir/
Edom, Canaan, Peleset, etc., in Egyptian sources are the Moab,
Seir/Edom, Philistines, etc., of our biblical and other sources, and
Israel cannot be presumed to be any different to these without
explicit and positive proof' (1998: 114) are based on an essential-
ist notion of ethnicity and identity which is at odds \vith currenl
research. 7 The burden of proof rests just as much with those who
claim such a direct connection between Merneptah's Israel and
the inhabitants of highland settlements in the Iron Age or later
monarchic Israel. It cannot be settled by the question 'if this is
not Merneptah's Israel, where was it?' or by claiming that the gap
is filled by the stories in Judges, Samuel and Kings or 'tangible
archaeological evidence' for the settlement history of the region
thought" and thaI equal significance should be attached to (Ill the outcomes
thought about. Ferguson's point here, howe\'er, is that to understand history 'as
it actually was', it is important 10 considcr what contcmporaries thought werc
possible outcomes. To consider only the possibility that actually was, is, for
Ferr:son, to commit the most fundamental teleological error,
Coote and Whilelam (1987: 179 n. 3) argued that 'the reference to ~Israel~
in the McrnepLah stela may not refer 10 the selliement of the highland or to any
social group directly al1cestralto monarchic Israel'. Similarly. Thompson (1992:
311) argues for a difference between 'Israel' of the stela and the referent of the
salllc nalllC in the Assyrian period, Reccntly, Finkelstcin (1998) has reitcrated
that we know nothing about the si"le and geographical location of Merneplah's
Israel and that 'at least territorially, we cannOI make an inSlinctive connection
between the ~lsraeI~ of 1207 liCE and the area where Ihe Isrnelite monarchy
emerged several centuries later'. Coote (1990: 72-93; 1991; 39-42) understands
Merneptah's Israel to be tribal in a political sense as part of 'a complex network
of relations of power'.
WHAT IF MERNEPTAH'S SCRIBES WERE TELLING THE TRUTH? 13
from 1200-900 BeE (Kitchen 1998: 115; see also Halpem 1995: 32).8
The recurring theme emerging from current research on
ethnicity is that it is a dynamic process rather than something
which is fixed and bounded. This stands in sharp contrast La views
from earlier in the century, which are still influential in the de·
bate on the origins of Israel, that ethnic identity was bounded,
static, and primOl-dial. 9 Jones, for instance, argues that:
[E]thnic identity is based on shifting, situational, subjective idcntifications
of sclf and others, which are rooted in ongoing daily practice and historical
experience, but also subject to transfonnation and discontinuity ... [Sluch
theoretically informed analysis of the dynamic and historically contingent
nature of ethnic identity ill the past Gllll in thc present has the potential to
subject cOlHemporary claims about the pennanent and inalienable status of
identity and territorial association lO critical scrutiny (1997: 13).
The essentialist notion of ethnicity, which assumes a natural and

easy connection between all groups designated as Israel over cen·
turies, emerged in the context of the triumph of the European
nation state in the nineteelllh century. This has imposed a no--
tion of the nation on scholarship, and biblical scholarship in par-
ticular, in which nation states were seen to be ethnically and lin·
guistically homogenous entities (see Hobsbawm 1990: 169). The
idea of ethnic groups as static and culturally bounded is, to use
Jones's phrase 'a modern classificatory myth' projected onto his-
lOry (1997: 104).
It is the assumption of stasis and boundedness which informs
the conjecLUre that there must be a direct connection between
Merneptah's Israel, Iron Age highland settlements, or later monaI'·
5 Even those scholars who assume thaI Mcrncptah's Israel fonned pan of thc
settlement of the Palestinian highlands in the carly Iron Age are unsure of its
size, location, or precise involvement. Few scholars now assume that the high-
land settlement and Israel are coterminous. Dever (1996: 17) qualifies his iden-
tification of Merneptah's Israel wit.h the highland settlements with the plll"ase
'at least appl·oximately'. Its pl-ecise involvement in the settlement of the Pales-
tinian highlands in the Late Bronze-Iron Age transition cannot be stated with
any degree of certainty on the basis of the evidence currently available.
9 James (1999: 67) notes that the telln American 'Indian' is a classic example
of an erroneous assumption by an alien culture according to its own beliefs-
Columbus was not in India-and one which groups people together in ways which
may have no local meaning at all (the 'Indians' were not a single, self·aware
cultul<ll grouping and had 110 one collective name for themseh'cs). Similarly, he
points out that there is no evidence that the peoples who started to see them·
selves as 'Celtic' after 1700 evcr shared such a sense of joint identity, or a single
ethnonym, at an)' earlier dale.
14 KEITH W. WHITHAM
chic Israel. Dever (1993: 23*; 1996: 15-16), in appealing to a

Barthian (1969) definition of ethnicity. highlights the notion of
difference by stressing a trait list approach, including language
and culture. 10 What the discussion of Merneptah's Israel and the
settlement transformation of Palestine fails to address is what
Devalle termed 'historical discontinuities and the evolution of
social contradictions' (1992: 21). Much greater emphasis needs
to be placed on discontinuity, transformation, and the fluidity of
identities in the discussion of the history of Palestine. ll Jones
notes, most importantly, that 'in the case of theories of elhnicity,
traditional assumptions abollt ethnic groups as culture-bearing en-
tities have, in pan, been challenged on the basis of ethnographic
evidena that there is no one-to-one correlation between culture
and ethnicity, and as a result there has been a significant shift in
the understanding of group identity in anthropology' (1997: 139).
Similarly, Trigger argues that:
\Ve must assume that in the past, as at present, ethnidty '""as a complex,
subjective phenomenon. It consists of a self-assigned group identily, which
ma)' change relatively quickly and mayor may not correspond with attri-
butes that are observable in the archacological record. In the past, archaco-
logists frequcnlly were tempted to trace ethnidty in the archaeological
rec(wd by assuming congruency between race, language, and culture. This
oftcn involved believing that the differentiation of all three resulted from
the break-up of single ethnic groups. Anthropologists have long known that
these are independent variables, which may follow similar or very different
trajectories of change They also obscf\'cd that neighbouring peoples
who share nearly identical material culturcs may assert a number of dif-
ferent ethnic or tribal identities, as was the case among the Pueblo Indians
of the southwcstern United States or the Plains Indians of the nineteenth
cenlury. Less frequently, peoples with different economies and material
cultures may claim the same ethnic identity ... Because of the subjective
nature of ethnic idemity, it is difficult to trace in the archaeological record
in the absence of supplementary historical evidence (1995: 273).
It is increasingly recognized that the material culture of Iron
10 Jones (1997: 137), by contrast. notes that 'in both archaeology and anthro-
pology the definition of ethnic or "tribal~ groups on the basis of the culture
concept has traditionally invoked an inventory of cultural, linguistic and mate-
rial traits'. It should bc noted that Barth (1969) also stresses the fluidity and
shifting nature of ethnic identity. For a critique of some aspects of Barth's work,
while aclnowledging its importance in the hislery of the study of ethnicity, see
Banks (1996: 12-17).
11 See Coote (1990) for an understanding of these issues in the history of
the region. Cribb (1991) provides an importalll discussion of nomadism and
tribal groups as part of a fluid territorial system which is instructive for under-
standing the complexities of such societies.
Age highland settlements in Palestine reflect environmental and

economic conditions rather than any precise ethnic identity
(Whitelam 1994; Finkelstein 1995: 365, 1998: 13-20). The debate
on the appropriateness of labels such as 'Israelite' or 'proto-isra-
elite' in assessing the material culture of PalesLine in the Iron Age
has confirmed the problems of assuming an easy correlation be-
t\veen ethnicity and culture. The failure of the search for ancient
Israel in this material culture of early Iron Age Palestine, the rec-
ognition that the material culture is largely indigenous and that
it reflects socio-environmental conditions rather than revealing
precise information on the ethnic identities of the inhabitants of
the settlements adds force to Ule consideration that Merneptah's
scribes might have been telling the truth. In addition, recent re-
search on the fluidity of ethnic identity means that it is not easy
to demonstrate a connection bet\veen Merneplah's 'Israel' and
later entities of the same name. 12 James claims that 'even where
specific, named ethnic groups can be shown to persist for centu·
ries, the changes they undergo due to continual redefinition of
themselves from generation to generation mean that remote an-
cestors and distant descendants who share the same group name,
if they could meet, might not recognize each other as the
same'(1999: 75)Y~
Recent research on Celtic history and identity, which mirrors
many of the debates on Israelite and Palestinian history, has un-
dermined the long held assumption that there was a pristine Celtic
cultural or ethnic uniformity stressing instead 'multiple traditions,
undergoing contest and change' (James 1999: 87).14 The sever-
ance of an inevitable and direct connection between Merneptah's
Israel and the inhabitants of the highland settlements in the early
Iron Age, coupled with the recognition that it is no longer pos-
12 The se\'cring of this nccessary connection between Merneptah's Israel and

later entities known by the same name does not lead to speculation (lver pos-
sible outcomes of what might have happened if the Hebrew Bible had llOt bcen
produced. The widcspread conviction that the Hebrew Bible is the product of
the Persian, Hellenistic and Roman pcriods. c\'cn if fragmcnts corne from the
monarchic pcriod (Carroll 1991: 108) means lhat the loss of Mcrncplah's Ismel
would not affeet this outcomc.
13 Banks (1996: 131) notes, following Ardcncr (1989), that 'c\'cn with popu-
lalions closer to our own day, we cannot be sure (hat we ha\<c corrcctly idellti-
fied all the Mmo\'es~ they ha\·e made in their game with history',
14 Sec Chapman (1992) and James (1999) for an introduction to this discus-
sion.
sible to assume on the basis of their material culture that the Iron
I sites share a common ethnicity. force the historian to take seri-
ously the claim put fonvard by Merneptah's scribes. IS
The Transfonnation oj Iron Age Palestine

The spectacular success of archaeology in recent years has been
the disclosure of the transformation and revitalisation of Pales-
tine in the Iron Age as part of the rhythms and pauerns of Pales-
tinian history (Coote and Whitelam 1987; Finkelstein 1995,
1998).16 Would this process of transformation, whicb began in the
Late Bronze-Iron Age transition and continued throughoUl the
Iron Age, have been predjudiced if Merneptah's Israel had been
wiped out? It is a question which needs to be considered in light
of the rhythms and patterns of Palestinian hislOry over the centu-
ries.
Palestine, given its strategic location on the trade routes of
antiquity, was unable to escape the consequences of the disrup-
tion and dislocation of the Late Bronze Age Mediterranean
economy. The faCl that the decline and disruption was spread over
a century or more, and that it was uneven throughout the region,
suggests that it was the result of a complex set of circumstances in
which it is difficult to distinguish bet\veen cause and effect. The
continued publication of regional surveys, along with excavation
data, for Iron Age Palestine suggest that the seeds of the revival
and transformation-demographic expansion and economic
growth-were located in the countryside. It was in the rural world
of peasants and pastoralists that the revival began. On the basis of
available evidence, there remains considerable disagreement on
how far this was the result of internal population displacement,
exernal movements, or internal demographic growth.
The regional surveys have revealed this reordering of the coun-
tryside with the appearance of hundreds of small, unwalled vil-
lages, most newly established in the t\veIfth century, arranged in
a variety of patterns, with many located on hilltops near arable
l~ It has to be recognized thaI the term 'ethnicity' is 'of increasingly limited

utility' (Banks 1996: 10) and joins the growing list oftenns, such as 'tribe', 'city',
'city Slate', 'nation stale', or 'national identity' which are difficult to use or re-
quire use with consider:able circumspection. in the cOllstnlction of the history of
ancient Palestine.
16 For a marc detailed description, Wilh bibliography, see Whitelam (forlh-
coming).
landsY The material culture of these villages-pillared buildings,

silos, cisterns, terracing, and utilitarian pottery forms, such as the
distinctive collared-rim ware-reflect the topographical and envi~
ronmental conditions facing their inhabitants, particularly ill
the context of the disruption of local and regional economies
(Whitelam 1994; Finkelstein ]995; see also Dever 1991: 83-84).
Furthermore, it has become evident that this reordering of the
countryside began in those areas which were the easiest to
colonise, providing good agricultural land and conditions most
suited to herding and grain growing.
The greatest density of seltlement was to be found in the north-
ern hill country with its fertile intermontane valleys, decreasing
significantly as it approached the steeper, more rugged western
flanks of the southern hills. Similarly, the eastern desert fringes
provided much greater settlement potential compared with the
less hospitable western slopes. It is significant that the less hospi-
table southern hill country and the western slopes which required
considerable investment in the opening of new land and was most
suited to long term cultivation of olives and vines did not experi-
ence similar density of settlement until the Iron II period. It was
the increasing pressure of numbers which required new land and
the opportunities offered by the development of more specialised
agricultural strategies such as fruit and olive production. These
ecological frontier zones have always been highly sensitive, often
being the first to suITer in times of settJement crisis and the last
to be repopulated when the economy revives (Finkelstein 1995:
353-54). Thus it appears that it was the limits of the possible,
olTered by the most convenient and agriculturally promising in
the north and eastern desert fringes. which dictated the direction
of settlement.
The vexed question of the ethnicity of the inhabitants of these
rural settlements. and the role of Merneptah's Israel, is high-
lighted by the fact lhat similar patterns of settlement-with higher
densities in lhe north and decreasing towards the ecologically
more sensilive south-and a remarkably similar material culture
are also found in Transjordan. Furthermore, similar responses to
17 Sec De\'er (1992: 104) fora dcscriptiOlL of this settlement and Mazar (1992:
292) for a discussion of the material culture of these villages and some of the
regional variations. The essays in Finkelstcin and Na'aman (1994) provide a dis-
cussion and analyses ofval'ious regional sun.·c)'s. Sec also the synthclic treatments
by ..- inkelstcin (1995, 1998).
the dislocations of the Mediterranean economy, with the prolif-

eration of small rural sites, can be observed from the Balkans,
Greece, AnaLOlia, and Syria-Palestine. IS Thus the transformation
and realignment of Palestinian society in the early Iron Age was
pan of a wider regional response by rural and pastoral groups to
the dislocation of regional and interregional economies. It is pan
of the rhythms and patterns of Palestinian history throughout
centuries and, as such, it was not dependent upon the continued
existence of Merneptah's Israel anymore than the wider regional
responses in sOllthern Europe, Greece, and Anatolia. One might
adapt the comment of Hesse and Wapnish in saying that if simi-
larities in material culture were 'taken as diagnostic for the pres-
ence of ethnic Israelites, there were a lot more Israelites in the
ancient world than we ever suspected' (1997: 238) .19
Thus, if Merneptah's scribes were telling the truth, this would
not have radically altered the transformation of Iron Age Pales-
tine. Since the weight of numbers in any agrarian system was criti-
cal, it might have meant that the reordering of the countryside
was slower and that the opening of the less hospitable areas took
longer. However, the pattern of transformation and realignment
is one which is well established within Palestinian history (see
Coote and Whitelam 1987; Finkelstein 1995, 1998). The settlement
shifts which took place in the Early Bronze and Middle Bronze
periods were not dependent upon the existence or location of
Merneptah's Israel. Such shifts were part of the pattern of Pales-
tinian history: the space had always been there but it was the
weight of numbers which determined its utilization. Therefore, it
is no more reasonable to believe that the reordering of rural Pal-
estine in the Iron Age, when the history of the region is viewed
over centuries, was dependant upon the existence of Merneptah's
Israel than earlier settlement shifts in the region. In fact, the
weight of evidence, coupled with anthropological research on the
concept of ethnicity, raises the question why minimalists and
maximalists have persisted in disregarding the claim made by
Merneptah's scribes. It might be argued that this alternative past
carries a greater weight of probability than those traditionally con-
structed by biblical historians and archaeologists.
18 See the essays in Ward and Joukowsky (1992) for discu!sions of the re-
sponses from southern Europe through the Levant to the disruption of Mediter-
ranean societies and economies.
19 Their comment was in relation to treating the absence of pig bones in the
Iron Age as evidence for Israelite ethnicity.
WHAT IF MERNEPTAH'S SCRIBES WERE TELLINC THE TRUTH? 19
A consideration of coulHerfactuals in history highlights, as

Ferguson (1997: 52-90) argues, that man)' accounts of history are
teleogical. This has certainly been the case in biblical studies
WIU:H: all c::xu:ptionalist view of Israel has dominated hi5torical
reconstruction for much of this century. It is expressed explicitly
in Albright's theology of histol)' which has been so influential
within the discipline; 'The sympathetic slUdelH of man's fflliu
history can have but one repl)'; there is an Intelligence and a Will,
expressed in both Histol)' and Nature-for History and Nature
al'e one' (1957: 126).20 However, teleogical assumptions are also
implicit within more recelH constructions of Israelite history. The
debate on the definition of 'Israelite' or 'proto-Israelite' ethnicity
is invariably determined by appeal to the location and existence
of the later Israelite monarchy.21 It is this later Israelite monar-
chy, or at least the biblical presentation of this monarchy, which
becomes the defining moment in the histOl)' of the region and
which is then used to determine the archaeological data from an
earlier period.
It might be objected that the Braudellian conception of history
and the above accoull( of the transfonnation of Iron Age Pales-
tine are equally deterministic.2'l However, the stress is upon the
possibilities of history and the nature of indigenous responses to
the ebb and flow of historical experience. It defines the limits of
the I>ossibie facing the inhabitants of the region but recognises
the role of contingenC)' in history and the fact that societies do
not develop in a uniliniar fashion. Viewed in this way, it is by no
means clear that the indigenous Palestinian responses to the dis-
locations throughout the eastern Meditel"ranean at the end of the
Late Bronze Age would have been radically altered if Merneptah's
20 Wright (1950: 7) bclic\'cd that Israel and its faith was ulliquc so that thc
CClltral c1cllIcnu of its faith could nOt be cxplaincd by CIl\'irOlllllcnL"ll or gco-
gra~hical condilioning.
I Ie is often recognizcd that thc archaeological data is too ambiguous to settle
thc qucstion of the cthnic idcnlit)' of the inhabiL"ll1tS of the highland scttlcmcnts
in Palestine. Howcver, the label 'Israelite' is invariably attachcd to these sctllc-
lllClmi on thc grounds Ihat this area was later associated with the Israelite mon-
archy (Mazar 1994: 91: 1992: 295-96. Herzog 1994: 148). Thus the ethnicity of
the settlements is defined in reference 10 the Israelite monarch)' evell though it
is recognized that there is nothing inherent in the dala themseh'cs ""hi,h a1l0\'\"5
for such an interpretation.
n Ferguson (1997: !;g, fJ9) CrltlCIZCS Brauders conception of IIISI01"} as 'geo-
graphical determinism' and im'ohing a 'serious misconception of the natural
\'I·orld'.
20 KEITH W. WH ITELAM
Israel had been wiped out. Of course, if Memeplah's scribes had

been telling the truth, it might have resulted in some revisionist
sceptic emerging from a postrrlodern, postcolonial western Europe
writing a book called The Invention oj Palestine: The Silencing oj Is-
raelite History. Fortunately, Ferguson's strictures on what is possible
and plausible in the alternative worlds of virtual history rule out
such idle speculation.
ABSTRACT
The reference to Israel in the Merneptah stele plays a pivotal role in the
debate on Israel's emergence in Late Bronze-Iron Age Palestine. Most scholars
ignore 'the plain sense of the text' which suggests that Ismel has been wiped
out. Recent research on clhnicit)' undermines the essentialist notion that there
is a dire<:l connection between Memeptah's 'Israel' and later entities of the same
name. The article explores the implications of accepting the claim of Merllep-
tah's scribes that 'Israel' had been destroyed
Bibliography
Ahlstrom, G.W.
1991 'The Origin of Israel in Palestine', SlOT 2: 19-34.
Albright, W.F.
1957 I'rom Ihe Slo"e A~ 10 ChrisliOllily: Alollo/heism olld /he /lis/oriml Process
(Doubleday: New York).
Ardener, E.
1989 'The Construction of History: MVestiges of Creation"', in E. Tonkin,
M. McDonald and M. Chapman (eds.), His/ai)' Wid Ethnicity (London:
Routledge).
Banks, 1\1.
1996 E/hnicit)': An/hropological Constructions (London: Routledge).
Barth, F.
1969 E/hllic Groups a7ld Bmwllaries: The Social OrgallisatiQIl oj Culture DiJJtrrnu
(London: George Allen and Unwin).
Bimson, J.
1991 'Mercnptah's Israel and Recent Theories of Israelite Origins',)SOT49:
3-29.
Bloch, M.
1954 The His/orian's Craft (Manchester: Manchester University Press).
Carroll, R.P.
1991 'Textual Strategies and Ideology in the Second Temple Period', in P.R.
Davies (ed.), Second Temple Studies I. Persian Period USOTSup, 117;
Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press): 108-24.
Chapman, M.
1992 The Cells: The ConstnlCtion oj a M)'th (London: MacMillan).
Coote, R.B.
1990 Early Israel: A New Horizon (Minneapolis: Fortress Press).
1991 'Early Israel', SJOT 2: 3~-46.
Coote, R.B. and K.W. Whitelalll
1987 The Emngenu oj Earl)' Israel ill Hislorical PersptelilJe (Sheffield: Almond
Press),
WHAT IF Mt:RNEPTAI'I'S SCRIBES WERE TELLING THE TRUTH? 21
Cribb, R.
1991 Nomads in Archaeology (COlmbl"idge: Cambridge University Press).
Davies, P.R
1992 In Search of 'A1Kinl/ Israel' (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press).
Devdlle, S.
1992 Discources of EtJl1lirit)': CuUur, (mil Protesl ill jharklO1ld (London: Sage).
Dever, w.e.
1991 'Archaeological Data on the Israelite Settlemem: A Review of Two Re·
cent Works', RASOR 284: 77-90.
1992 'The Late Bronze·Early Iron I Horizon in Syria·Palestine: Egyptians,
Canaanites, ~Sea Peoplcs,~ and Prolo-Israelites', in W.A. Ward and M.S.
Jouko,,'Sky (cds.), Th, Crisis ),ears: The 12th Omtury B.e. from beyond the
Danube lO the Tigris (Dubuque: Kendall/Hum Publishing): 99-110.
1993 'Cultural Continuity, Ethnicity in the Archaeological Record, and the
Question of Israelite Origins', £1 24: 22·-33·.
1996 'The Idemity of Early Israel: A Rejoinder to Keith W. Whitelam',jSOT
72: 3-24.
Elton, C.R.
1991 Ilelum to Essentials: Some Ill'jlfCtions OIl the Present Siale of /-lisloneal Stud),
(Cambridge: Cambridge Universily Press).
Ferguson, N.
1997 'Introduction; Virtual HistOry: Towards a ~Chaotic~ Theory of the Past',
in N. Ferguson (cd.), Virlual /-lisIOry: Allemalives and Counltrfactuals
(London: Papennac/MacMillan): 1-90.
Finkelstein, I.
1995 'The Great Transformation: The "Conquest· of the Highland .·rontiers
and the Rise of the Territorial Slates', in T.E. Levy (cd.), The Archarol-
OlD' of SOOely in th, Nol)' Land (Leicester: Leicester University Press):
349-6:'.
1998 'The Rise of Early Israel: Archaeology and Long-Term History', in S.
Ahiwvand E.O. Oren (cds,), The Origin of fArl)' Ismel-CuITellt Debat,:
lJiblit:a{, Historical and Archaeologit:aI Persp«tives (Bccrsheva: Ben-Gurion
University of thc Negev Press): 7-39.
Finkelstcin, I, and N, Na'aman (cds.)
1994 From Nomadism 10 Monanhy: Archaeological alld /-lislorieal ASplCls of Early
Israel (jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society).
Gordon, R,P.
1994 'In Search of Da\'id: The David Tradition in Recent SlIldy', in A.R.
Millard, J-K. Hoffmeicr and D.W. Baker (eds.), Fijilh, Tradition and
History (Winona Lake: Eiscnbmuns): 285-98.
Hallo, W.W,
1990 'The Limits of Skepticislll', JAOS 110: 187-99.
Halpcrn, B.
1995 'Emsing History: The Minimalist Assault on Ancient Ismel'. I3It Dccem-
bcr: 27-47.
1997 'Tcxt and Artifact: Two Monologues?', in N.A. Silberman 3nd 0.8.
Small (cds.) 1997: 311-40.
HerLOg, Z,
1994 'The Bcer-Sheba Valley: From Nomadism to Monarchy', in l. Finkel·
stcin ;Illd N. NOl'aman (cds.) 1994: 122-49.
Hcsse, B. and P, Wapnish
1997 'Can Pi~ Remains Be Used for Ethnic Diaf{nosis in the Ancient Ncar
East?, in N.A. Silberman and D.B. Small (eds.) 1997: 238-270.
HobsbawlIl, E.J.
1990 Nalions and NaliO'l(J/ism Si1lei 1780: P/'ogramme, Myth. Ilealit)' (Cain bridge:
Cambridge University Press).
james, S
1999 The At/alltic Celts: Allcient People or Modern IlIvetltio'l1 (London: British
Museum Press).
jones, S.
1997 The ArdweololD' of HIIl'licity: Col/JtTUcting /delllilies ill Ille Past a'ld tile Present
(London: Routledge).
Kitchen, K.A.
1998 'Egyptians and Hebrew, from Ra'amses tojcl"icho', in S. Ahituv and
E.D. Oren (cds.), The Origin of&rly Israel-Currenl f)t6ale. Biblical, His-
torical and Arcllaeological Perspeclives (Beersheva: Ben-Curion Ullh'ersily
of the Nege\' Press): 65-131.
Mazar, A.
1992 'The Iron Age 1', in A. Ben-Tor (ed.),TIIe ArchatoleJrj of Allcinlt Israel
(New Haven: Yale Univcrsity Press): 258-301.
1994 'Jerusalem and Its Vicinity in Iron Age I', in I. J-"inkelstein and N.
Na'aman (cds.) 1994: 70-91.
Miller, j.M.
1997 'Separating Ihe Solomon of History from the Solomon of Legend', in
L.K. Handy (cd.), Th.e Age of Solomon: Scholarship at the Turn of Ih.e Mil-
Inmium (Leiden: Brill): 1-24.
Provan, I.
1995 'Ideologies, litemI"}' and Critical: Reflections on Recent Writing on the
History of Israel', JilL 114: 585-606.
Samuel, R.
1990 'Cr:and Narmtives', Hislory Workshop Journal 29: 120-33.
Silberman, NA. and 0.8. Small (eds.)
1997 The Arcllaeology of Israel: Conslmcling Ih.e Past, l'lltrpreling Ihe Present
(Sheffield: Sheffield Academic I'ress).
Thompson, T,L.
1992 The Early Hislory of Ih.e Israelite People: From Ih.e IVriltt71 Gild A,-ch.atological
Sources (Leiden: Brill).
Trigger, B.C.
1995 'Romanlicism, Nationalism, and Archaeology', in P,L. Kohl and C.
Fawceu (cds,), NatiomJlism, Politics and Ihe Praclice of Archaeology (Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press): 263-79,
Whilelam, K. W.
1994 'The Idenlity of Early Israel: The Realignment and Transformation of
Late Bronze-Iron Age Palestine', JSOT 63: 57-87,
1996 Th.e It/VeIIliOlI of AncieTll IsrfUl: The Silencing of Paluliman Hislory (Lon-
don: ROllLledgc).
forth-
coming 'Palestine in the Iron Age' in J. Barton (cd.), The Biblical World (Lon-
don: Routledge).
Whybray, R,N.
1996 'What Do We Know about Ancient Israel?', Exposilory Times 101: 71-
74.
Wright, G.E
1950 Th.e Old Testamt7lt agaillsl its Envir01l11lent (London: SCM).
Yamauchi, E.
1994 'The Current State of Old Testament HisLOriography', in AR. Millard,
J.K. Hoffmeier, and D.W. Baker (eds.), Failh, Tradilion and Hislory
(Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns): 1-36.
ADDE PRAEPUTIUM PRAEPU110 MAGNUS ACERVUS
ERlT: IF THE EXODUS AND CONQUEST HAD REALLY
HAPPENED
LESTER L. GRABBE
VIliller-sit)' of Hull
Perhaps one of the most interesting "what if' questions one

could ask about history is that of the exodus and conquest. In the
light of recent study these have been largely abandoned, at least
in any form resembling that of the biblical text. Currently, few
would be willing to argue for a version of history having much in
common with the books of Exodus, Numbers. orJoshua. But what
if the biblical accounts were basically correct and Israel had
marched out of Egypt, through the desert (for 40 years), and even·
lually conquered the land of Canaan in the shon space of five
years? What would the rest of Israelite-and ancient Near East·
ern-hislol)' look like?
The biblical text wishes to give a panicular picture of the situ-
ation of Jacob's descendants in the time of Moses and what sub-
sequently happened to them. The story itself is all of a piece; the
various parts fit together into a coherent whole. Although mod·
ern scholars have found evidence of editing, blending of various
traditions, the use of different sources, and the like, the editorial
stamp placed on all this material has left a surface narrative that
is intelligible in its own righl. For the purposes of this exercise,
the story will be read as it stands (as far as possible) and not ratio-
nalized or reinterpreted. I do not wish to make a great deat of
the miraculolls elements, but they cannot be easily removed; they
form an essential pan of the story and are integral to it.
However you interpret the plagues, they would have devastated
the country (cf. Exod. 8:20; 9:6, 25; 10:7, 15; 12:29-30). This is
precisely the impression intended by the text. The crops had been
destroyed, the cattle all killed (on no less than three separate
occasions: 9:6, 9:25, 11:5), the infrastructure severely damaged, the
population terrorized, culminating in the death of every firstborn
male in the COllntry. Finally. the entire army-and perhaps even
the pharaoh himself-had perished in the "Red Sea." We should
expect to find some indication of this in the Egyptian texts, how-
24 LESTER L. GRABBE
ever shaming it may have been to the pride of the noble classes.
The Israelites, on the other hand, had emerged as a potent force
in the re~ion. First of all, it must be realized that they were three
to four million strong. Exod. 12:37 states that there were 600,000
men of war (cf. also Num. 1:46; 2:32; 11 :21), that is, those of mili-
tary age from t\venty years old upwards (Num. 1:3; the upper age
was apparently 60 [Lev. 27:3, 7], though it was possibly 50 [cf.
Num. 8:24-25]). For every such man there would generally have
been a wife. at least one child, one or (wo parenLS, not to men-
tion brothers and sisters. Let us consider the calculation in more
demit. There would have been approximately the same number
of women in the same age group (total 1,200,000). Each warrior
would have had brothers and sisters; however, the sisters of the
same age would be numbered in the 600,000 women, and the
brothers would be included in the 600,000 warriors, requiring no
additions to the numbers. On the other hand, any brothers and
sisters below the age of 20 would need [Q be included, so a rea-
sonable guess would be the same number (LOW 1,800,000). Many
of these men of military age and their wives would have had chil-
dren of their own, or another 1,200,000 at a conservative estimate
(total 3,000,000). Finally, there were the parents. Each warrior
would have had two parents; against this is the fact that some
would no longer be alive, and, since some of the warriors were
brothers, it would not have averaged two parents per person. We
can thus add another half million to include parents plus any
other elderly people above the fighting age (e.g., grandparents),
to give a final Israelite population of three and a half million. A
fighting force which numbers seventeen percent of the popula-
tion might seem a bit high, hut we shall leave it for the moment
since it is a reasonable-indeed, conselvative--estimate. (We ig-
nore for the moment all those men between 20 and 60 who could
not fight, such as the disabled and the Levites.)
The implications of such a large group were already noted 250
years ago by Hermann Samuel Reimarus (1694-1768) in his
Apologie (book 3, ch. 2 "lIber den Ourchgang der Israeli ten durch
das Rohte Meer~). Using basically only the biblical texl, which
was all that was available to him, Reimarus made a number of
interesting calculations. Using an approach slighLly different
from mine, he also came to a figure of well over four million
for those going OUl of Egypt; however, for the sake of the exer-
cise he reduced it lo the three million thal some olher earlier
IF THE EXODUS AND CONQUEST HAD REALLY HAPPENED 25
commentators had reckoned. But he then asked about some of

the other factors necessary to take into account in any discussion
of the exodus.
One of the important fal.:turs induue::u ill his calculation was
that of the livestock. That there were large numbers of cattle is
indicated in a variety of texts. The descendents ofJacob seujed in
the land of Coshen because of their livestock (Gen. 46:31-34).
When Moses asked the pharaoh for permission to go worship God
in the wilderness, their livestock were to go with them, leaving
not a hoof behind (Exod. 10:24-26). The Israelite cattle were said
not to suffer from the plague of catLie disease (Exod. 9: 1-7); rather,
all their cattle departed the country with them, comprising a large
number (12:32, 38; cr. Num. 11:21-22). Certain of the tribes were
especially noted for their catLie raising (Num. 32: I). Reimarus gave
an estimate-surely very reasonable, if not conservative-of
300,000 beef cattle and 600,000 sheep and goats. But he also asked
about another point not mentioned in the text: the number of
wagons and carts needed for baggage (wagons are mentioned in
the biblical account of the exodus only in Num. 7:3, 6-8). After
all, the Israelites had to bl'ing tents, bedding, cooking and eating
utensiles, and tools-which could hardly be carried by people trav-
eling 011 fout. There:: was also the enormous spoil collected from
their Egyptian neighbors (Exod. 11 :2-3; 12:35-36). Reimarus used
the extremely consenrative figure of 10,000 wagons, but that al-
lows only one wagon per 300 persons, which would have been
absurdly low.
Reimarus then went on to ask about the amount of time re-
quired for such a large group to exit the country. Taking the fig-
ures of three million people, 900,000 animals, and 10,000 wagons,
he calculated how long the traveling column would be. Naturally,
that would depend on how wide the column was. He estimated
fifty people marching abreast (which he thought was too many),
with the space of t1uee steps taken up by each row of people. The
wagons with their teams of oxen could also be calculated as lAk-
ing up about len stride-lengths. The livestock are harder lO calcu-
late, bUl Reimarus concluded with the following figures:
The column of people 180,000 steps
The column of livestock 300.000 steps
The column of baggage vehicles 10.000 steps
Tot<tl 490.000 sleps
He went on to calculate how long it would take such a column to
pass a single point (Reimarus 1972: vol. 1, 309):
26 LESTER L. GRABBE
Nun re<:hnel "lall 10 000 gUle Schriue auf cine teuIKhe Meile. Foiglich
wiirde so vie! Zeit erfoderl. als dann ein Kerl 49 leulXhe Meilen zurUck
legen magle. wenn er so lange in einem fon das Gehen aushahen kOnnte.
Oa nun cin huniger KeT! cine teuuche Meile nidn ullIer l-n Stunde
abgehen kano: so ""ofirde er 73~ Stunden, oder 3 ganutT Tage und I ~
Stunden, br.mchen ehe er die Fu6SLapfen oder den Lager On cler coten
Reihen erreichte.
lOne would reckon 10,000 steps 10 a ~Gemlan mile~ (ca. fi,-c English
miles]. It follows that it would take the amoullI of time that a roung man
would require 10 cover 49 MGennan miles,M if he could hold out for that
M
long a march. Now a \;gorous )'oung man could nOI cO\'cr a MGerman mile
in less lhan Ilh houn; therefore, he would need 73~ hours, or 3 complete
da)'S plus 1Jh haun to reach the footsteps or camping place of the front of
lhe column. I
One might argue that on flat ground, the column could be

much wider, say a mile in width. If so, the length of the column
would be reduced perhaps twenty-fold for the people, though the
animals and wagons would probably be reduced only about ten-
fold. If so, this would reduce the amount of time required to pass
a point to about 40,000 steps or about six hours to pass a single
point. But Reimarus is quite right that in rough or mountainous
country, the column would have to be quite narrow, perhaps even
more narrow than his column of fifty people 01" ten wagons wide.
Also, the column could not move at the consistent pace possible
for an unencumbered vigorous young man on his own. On the
comrary, such a column would be very unwieldy, with an inevi·
table amount of disorder, and would move at a much slower pace.
It would surely have taken at least a week to cross the "Red Sea!"
A number of matters not touched on by Reimarus need to be
considered as well. What did the animals live on? The biblical text,
unfortunately, does not address this important question. When the
people ran out of food (Exod. 16), God sent manna and also
quails for food. Did the cattle live on manna? One might see this
as logical, though the quails would not have been of much help,
but nothing is said abom the livestock. Finally, there is the quan-
tity of dung produced by such a large group of humans and live-
stock-with the smell, the flies, the sanitation problems.
The point has been made, and I do not wish to labor it further.
But it is clear that the implications of the text as it stands--ofjust
the few chapters in Exodus 12-16--are very serious and must be
faced. Yet we must leave this situation behind and ffim'e on.
In order to allow the sinful generation to die out, Israel was re-
1Jo" THE EXODUS AND CONQUEST HAD REALLY HAPPENED 27
quired to spend forty years in the wilderness. Some small portion

of this time was spent in the actual journey from Egypt LO the
Transjordanian region, but for much of the period Israel was
st:ttlt:t.l ill tht: rt:giun uf Kadt:sh-barm:a, an oasis in the Negev or
northern Sinai. Think of the effect on the region of three million
plus people and their multitudes of cattle. Nomadic groups do
not leave a lot in the way of archaeological remains, but such a
large group in a confined space would surely not fail LO leave re-
mains. The bones of the quails eaten and the cattle and sheep
sacrificed would have had to be dealt with, probably by burying,
since to leave them exposed would have created ny, smell, and
health problems. Pottel)' used in daily life quickly becomes bro-
ken (unless it was miraculously preserved like the Israelite cloth-
ing [Deur. 29:4]). One cannot believe that some of the silver, gold,
and jeweh)' taken from the Egyptians \vas not dropped and lost
by three million people over the four decades. The area around
Kadesh-barnea should be a treasure trove for archaeologists!
Israel had been promised the land of Canaan because of the
righteousness of Abraham (Gen. 15:7, 18-21). After forty years, the
next generation began its march from K.:ldesh-barnea south of the
Dead Sea LO the Transjordanian area. Although all the previous
generation had died in the wilderness, the population appears to
have remained constant, with about 600,000 men of military age,
from age twenty (Num. 26:2). Their first goal was to move through
the land of Edom, but they were prevented by the king of Edom
(Num. 20:14-21). Israel strangely did not press the point with the
Edomites; thwarted, the Israelites instead made their way further
east to journey through the land of Moab and the land of the
"Amorites" (Num. 21:10-35), defeating Og and the Amorites
(Num. 21) and then the "Midianites" (Num. 31, though one ex-
pects the Moabites).
We now come to a crucial issue. The refusal of cooperation by
the Edomites and the Trallsjordanian tribes, and the resistence
by the Canaanites, are practically inexplicable. They make little
sense, for two reasons: first. the size of the Israelite forces, and,
second, the reputation that must have accompanied this group
which had lived in the wilderness for 40 years. Suppose you are
king of a small nation, such as Edam or Midian, which can be
defeated by an army of 12.000 (cf. Num. 31 :6-8). So when a na-
tion with a potential army of 600,000 men in their prime, who have
been living on miraculous provisions falling from heaven, asks to
28 LESTER L. GRABBE
move peacefully through your land, you say no? Of course, it is

possible that their proferred peace is only a sham, but which is
better: to sufTer certain destruction by refusing to let them pass
or to take the chance that they will keep their word? The first will
bring the certain end of your people, but at least you might es-
cape if you cooperate. The refusal by the Edomite king seems
rather unlikely.
However, the same argument-if somewhat more compli~
cated-applies with regard lO the Canaanites. The Israelites had
been camping on their borders for fony years. The Canaanites
were not ignorant of their presence, including the faeL that they
were clearly so superior in numbers that defeat was almost cer-
tainly assured. It was a matter either of submitting and becoming
slaves or resisting and suffering destruction of the nations. What
would they have chosen? Would they have realized the enormous
size ofthe Israelite fighting force? Would they have felt that death
was preferable to slavery? According to the biblical text, some
thought it would be better to make peace and submit to servitude
than to risk war Uosh. 9:3-27). Why only this one tribe?
We come back to the numbers of fighting men among the Isra-
elites. These numbers need to be considered in context to realize
their real significance. Modern armies have hundreds of thousands
of men in uniform, but populations were much smaller in antiq-
uity and armies similarly reduced. The population of male citizens
of the city-state of Athens was only about 45,000 in the time of
Pericles, dropping to about 29,000 by about 360 BeE after the
Peloponnesian War (Rhodes 1994: 566-67). It was from this small
body that soldiers were recruited for conflicts. The population of
Roman Egypt was stated to be about seven and a half million in
one writer of late antiquity Uosephus, War 2.16.4 §385), but an*
other writer puts it at three million (Diodorus Siculus 1.31.6-9,
according to the reading of all the major manuscripts but one),
and recent estimates have reduced it to four to five million or even
less (Bagnall and Frier: 53-56), not much more than the alleged
population Israel at the time of the exodus. Alexander began his
invasion of Persia with an army numbering about 50,000 total
(Bosworth 1994: 798). As a good way of illustrating the power of
the Israelites, consider the battle of Raphia in 217 BeE between
Antiochus III the Creat and Ptolemy rv of Egypt. At that time
Antiochus had 35,000 heavy infantry, 21,000 light infantry, and
6,000 cavalry (Polybius 5.79; cf. Bar-Kochva 1976: 132), and the
opposing Egyptian forces were about the same. Israel's troop

strength was ten times as great.
The Israelite army alone probably far outnumbered the entirety
of the Canaanite population. No wonder the Canaanites were ter-
rified! Resistance was useless. The "hill of foreskins" alleged to
have been created by the circumcision of the new male genera-
tion Oosh. 5:3) would have been no exaggeration: weighing the
better part of a ton, 600,000 prepuces would indeed have made a
small hillock! One might argue that, although the number of fight-
ing men was large, they were untrained. This ignores 1:\"0 facts as
presented in the text: that Moses had been brought up as a prince
in Egypt, which would inevitably have included military training,
and that Israel had been in a great many battles from the time of
leaving Egypt (Num. 14:39-45; 21:21-25; 31:1-12). Each new gen-
eration had to have its baptism of fire, naturally, but by the time
the Israelites crossed the jordan, they were veterans. just noting
that Israel had a large army is not sufficient, however; it is the
entire population implied by this size of an army. What are the
implications of such a large population suddenly settling Pales-
tine?
One might suspect there would not be sufficient resources for
so large a group. This is a reasonable objection, but the biblical
text never alludes to it. The promised land is a "land flowing with
milk and honey," and the division of the country aftel" the can·
quest suggests that everyone found a place (cf. josh. 13·19, 21).
Since the birth of archaeology, it has often suggested that the new
conquerors "from the desert" would bring a primitive material cul-
ture. That is simply due to the attempt to reconcile archaeology
with the biblical text-to force what is found in the ground into
conformity with the picture given by joshua. But this in fact ig-
nores the implications of the text itself.
Far from being a bunch of sheepherders from out of the desert,
the Israelites had only recently come from Egypt where they had
selved the Egyptians in all sorts of capacity, from city building to
personal sen!ice in the household. They had been able to build a
sophisticated portable temple of great quality, with intricate deco-
rations requiring a high degree of skill (cf. Exod. 35-39). It is true
that the adult generation coming from Egypt had died ofT, bUl
they had spent much of the forty years near Kadesh-bamea, with
no great requirements beyond gathering the daily quota of manna.
There was ample opportunity for parents La pass on their sk.ills to
30 LESTER L. GRABBE
the new generation. It is unlikely that only a large unskilled popu-

lation suddenly exploded illlo the land. On the contrary, the sev-
eral million new people settling in Canaan would have quickly
established a productive and prosperous society and a thriving
economy. Furthermore, they had the surviving natives as their
servants, natives possessing their own skills and knowledge (cf.
Josh. 9, especially w. 21, 23, 27).
What are the implications and likely consequences of the settle-
ment described here? No less than that Israel would have been at
least the second or third greatest power in the ancient Near East
at the time, if not the greatest. With a booming economy. an ag-
ricultural surplus, and a large labour force it would be natural
that the nation would have turned to thoughts of further expan-
sion. After all, the land of Bashan was not included in the original
Uland of Canaan" promised to Israel, but they had taken it and
settled there anY'vay (Num. 32; Deut. 3: 12-16; Josh. 1: 12-28). Out-
right wars of conquest could easily be the result but, in any case,
domination of surrounding regions would be a natural conse-
quence of this power. A move to the north and along the
Euphrates would have been another natural step to take.
This expansion of social and political control. if not military
takeover. is a natural consequence of the situation and almost in-
exorable. It should also not be forgotten that Egypt was within easy
reach. Why refrain from attacking their recent oppressors? The
country was unlikely to have recovered completely from the dev-
astations half a century before. Asia Minor and Mesopotamia were
a long way off. Expansion in that direction was possible, just as
centuries later the Assyrians and Babylonians came west, but Egypt
was nearby and there for the taking. An Israel as strong as implied
by the numbers of fighting men could have taken control of at
least Lower Egypt with a minimum of effon at this time.
But then the Bible would have to be rewritten. The situation
described in Judges and 1 and 2 Samuel would not have taken
place, for the Solomonic empire would already have emerged
within a few decades of the conquest. A powerful nation sitting
on the crossroads between Africa and Asia would have done pre·
cisely what was ascribed to Solomon in 1 Kings (5:1-6; 10): it would
have ruled the whole area "from the river of Egypt to the river
Euphrates" and have cOllu·oled the trade over a much wider re-
gion, including that between Egypt and Anatolia. Indeed, it could
have ruled from "Thebes in Egypt" to the Euphrates, as well as
having a uuoat-hold on much of the trade. commerce. and com-

munications of the ancient Near East.
One can go on to speculate on other developments. though
these are not as straightforward. h used to be argued that wisdom
entered Israel at the time of the "Solomonic enlightenment." AJ·
though a numbe." of considerations now make this questionable.
the pJinciple is still correct that the establishment of imperial rule
with its economic and social benefits would have encouraged the
intellectual pursuits. A large military force and the administration
of an empire would require a sizeable bureaucracy with scribal
skills and interests. The literary arts which flourished in Egypt.
Ugarit. Mesopotamia. and elsewhere would have been paralleled
in Israel. What would have happened from here is unpredictable.
but one jJossible direction is a scientific and philosophical blossom-
ing on the analogy of the Ionic enlightenment in the sixlh-een-
LUry Greek world. If this happened-if Qohelet had really been
from the early Iron Age. as was once thought-we might have seen
the great intellectual and literary achievements now associated with
the Greco-Roman world already replicated half a millennium ear-
lier in Israel: philosophy, scientific inquiry, historical writing. lit·
erary works for a leisured class.
This advancement would not have been inexorable. for we know
that the large empires controlled from Egypt and Mesopotamia
did not lead to all these, and it was left to the Greeks to produce
them. Nevertheless. the opportunity would have been there. So
all we can say is, who knows? Perhaps the great intellectual accom-
plishments we now ascribe to the Creeks would have been Israel-
ite ones. Instead of the Socratic method. we might be talking about
the Solo monic method; we might be reading the dialogues of Palti,
the scientific treatises of Asher. the satires of Menahem. We might
have the comic plays of Aaron; the tragedies of Asaph. Simeon,
and Ezekiel; the rhetorical treatises by Daniel; the histories of
Tadmor and Zebulon, led by the "father of histOl)''' Haradah.
Much of this is speculation, but it is also logical deduction. The
one thing we can say, though, is that if the exodus and conquest
had taken place as envisaged by the biblical writers, we would not
have the Bible we have today-it would have had to be rewriuen.
That would have been inevitable.
32 LESTER L. GRABBE
ABSTRACT
A lot of ~what ir situations in history can be imagined, with inlcresting resulL'!.

BlH an event often taken as history in the past is now regarded as a literary
creation: the exodus and conquest. \\'hen we begin to see the consequences of
laking it as actual hiswry-surprisingly, nOt done by supporters of this inter-
pretation-it becomes even dearer why thCI"C never was such an event. If the
exodus and conquest had aClUally occurred, the outcome could have changed
the whole of the history of the Western world, and we would ha\"c a completely
different Bible today.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Bagnall, Roger S., and Bruce W, Frier

1994 The Demography oj Roman ElfJPt (Cambridge SlUdies in Population,
Economy and Society in Past Time, 23; Cambridge: Cambridge Uni-
\'crsity Prcss).
Bar-Kochva, B.
1976 Th~ Seleucid Anny: OrganiUllion and Taclics in Ole Greal Campaigns (Cam-
bridge Classical Studies; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).
Bosworth, A.B.
1994 ~Alexander the Great Pan I: The E\"elllS of the Rcign~, in D.M. Lewis
et ai. (eds.) 1994: 791-845,
Lewis, D.M. et al., (eds.)
1994 The Cambridge Ancit'lll HistQT)'. Volume VI: The FOllrth Century B.C. (Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press).
Reimarus. Hermann Samuel
1972 Apowgit odn' Schlllzschrift JUr die vtnllinftigen Verehrer Colles (ed. Gerhard
Alexander, irn Auftrag der Joachim:Jungius-Gesellschaft der \Vissen-
schaften Hamburg; 2 vols.; Frankfurt-arn-Main: Inscl Verlag).
Rhodcs, P.].
1994 ~The Polis and the Alternatives", in O.M. Lewis et ai. (eds) 1994: 565-
91.
WHAT IF JUDGES HAD BEEN WRITTEN BY
A PHILISTINE?
SUSAN ACKERMAN
Darlmouth College
What if Judges had been written by a Philistine? The flip an-

swers are so irresistible that they practically roll off our tongues:
the content would be pedestrian and dull, the language boorish
and crass, the overall effect pedamic and commonplace. For-
tunately for the reader, though, this philistine Judges would
probably be fairly short, since the subjects upon which we would
expect it to focus-the Philistines-appear only occasionally in
narratives ofJudges. The Philistines are mentioned just five times,
for example, and fairly incidentally, in the first t\velve chapters of
Judges (3:3; 3:31; 10:6; 10:7; and 10:11) and are entirely absent
from the book's concluding episodes Uudg. 17-21). However, in
judges 13-16, the saga of Samson, the Philistines do come to the
fore. Indeed, this narrative begins by noting that the Israelites,
having done evil in the sight of Yahweh, have been given into
Philistine hands for forty years. The text then immediately turns
to describe the miraculous birth of Samson, the child of promise,
who will deliver the Israelites from their Philistine oppressors. By
the end of the story, Samson has done just that, pulling down the
pillars of the Philistine temple of Dagon and causing the building
to collapse on all the lords of the Philistines and the three thou-
sand others said to be gathered within.
Yet sand\vlched between these stories of Samson's miraculous
birth, injudg. 13:2-25, and his final miracle of deslruction, in judg.
16:23-30, are a series of narratives about Samson that, rather than
extol the noble and heroic attributes we expect such a prodigy LO
manifest, focus instead on this character's mundanely human
foibles. In fact, so bumbling is Samson in his role as an Israelite
hero that it seems almost as if judg. 14:1-16:22 had been wl"iuen by
a Philistine, one whose intention was to poke fun at the Israel-
iles' alleged champion. Granted,judg. 14:1-16:22 does laud Sam-
son as a mighty fighter. so endowed with superhuman strength
that, with his bare hands, he can dp apart a lion that allacks him,
and, armed with only the jawbone ofa donkey, he can kill a thou-
34 SUSAN ACKERMAN
sand Philistines. But he is rash, to the point of being a fool; as

Roben Alter describes him, "a hero ... whose formidable brawn
will not be matched by brain, or even by a saving modicum of
common sense."l For example, in Judges 14, although he at first
might seem to play the celebrated biblical role of the trickster,
Samson ends up looking more like a cad and a cheat when, at his
wedding feast, he proposes a wager to the Philistines that is win-
nable only if they are able to answer his unanswerable riddle.
Moreover, when, against all odds (and with some help from
Samson's new wife), the Philistines are able to provide the solu-
tion, Samson responds, first, with a fit of reckless killings and,
second, by abandoning his bride, even though he has gone to
some trouble, and against the wishes of his parents, to marry her
(Judg. 14:19). Then, in Judges 15, when Samson decides that he
does want to be with his newly..." ed \vife after all, only Lo discover
that she has been given by her father to another, he engages in
another spree of wanton destruction, burning the fields, the vine·
yards, and olive groves of "the Philistines n (Judg. 15:1·5).
Exaclly whom Samson attacks among the Philistines is unspeci-
fied, but the text seems to indicate it is Philistines other than the
family of Samson's in-laws (see below), even though that family
alone was responsible for the deed that had aroused Samson's ire.
The larger community of "the Philistines n therefore, and not un·
reasonably, retaliates, killing Samson's bride and her father, the
countrymen whom they perceive to have brought about their
troubles. Samson in turn takes revenge upon these Philistines and
slaughters them. Even Samson's fellow Judahites seem to feel by
this point that Samson's murderous rampages have gone too far,
and they hand Samson over to the Philistines, bound. Samson
being who he is, however, is able to escape, this being the mo-
ment in the saga when he kills a thousand Philistines with the jaw-
bone of a donkey. Nevertheless, he ends lip bound again and
blinded by Judg. 16:21, which further describes him as forced to
grind grain like a woman in a Philistine prison in Gaza. 2
1 Robert Alter, ~How CoIl\'clHion Helps Us Read: The Case or the Biblc's An-
nunciation Type-SCcnc:' Prooftex/$ 3 (1983), pp. 115-30 (124); see also the cata-
logue or other scholan; unflattcring descriptions or Samson collected by n,M.
Cunn, "Samson of Sorrows: An Isaianic Gloss on Judges 13-16," in D,N. Fewell
(cd.), Reading Between Tex/s: In/mex/unlity and the Hebrew lJibk (Loui$villc, KY:
Westminster/John Knox, 1992). pp. 225-53 (225).
2 On the subjugation or Samson allhc end ofJudges 16, see furtherS. Niditch,
WHAT II' JUDGES HAD BEEN WRJ'n'EN BY A PHILISTINE? 35
The agent who returns Samson lO shackles is, of course, Delilah,

whose interactions with Samson are recounted inJudg. 16:4-22. It
is in this part of the Samson saga, moreover, that Samson appears
at his llIost illt:pt. Ddilah llIakc::s 110 sc::u-c::L of hc::r uc::si,-c:: to Ic::arll
from Samson the secret of his great strength: she forthrightly asks
him to reveal it, and no less than three times Uudg. 16:6, 10, and
13).3 She also makes no secret of what is at stake for Samson if he
answers truthfully,4 for, each time he answers her falsely, she does
just what he tells her she should do in order to subdue him (she
binds him with fresh bowstrings [16:81; she binds him with new
ropes (16:12]; and she weaves seven locks of his hair into the fab-
ric on her loom [16:14]) and then summons the Philistines, who
have been lying in \vait in her chambers, to come and take him."
So can Samson really not anticipate that Delilah will have his head
shaved and call the Philistines to seize him when finally, in Judg.
16:17, he does tell her the truth, that the source of his strength
lies in his uncut hair?6 And when the Philistines do in fact come
to capture him, in Judg. 16:20, can Samson, now in violation of
his Nazirite vow, really hope to receive the miraculous deliverance
from God he seems to expect? "Heroic" is hardly the adjective that
springs to mind to describe this witless lout. Indeed, if there is
any hero in the story, it is Delilah, who goes about her mission of
discovery with determination and courage (given thal Samson
could conceivably turn on her at any moment) and who ultimately
~Samson as Culture Hcro, Trickster, and Bandit: The Empowcrment of the \Veak,~
CBQ 52 (1990), pp. 608-24 (616-17), who cogently describes how the defeated
Samson is rendered as a sexually subducd woman; also M. Bal, Lethal Lm.e: Frmi-
nist Literary Readings oj IJiblicall.AJtII'. Stories (Bloomington: Indiana Unh-crsity PI-ess,
1987), pp. 51-52; finally, as pointed Ollt by Niditch. K. van der Toorn, "Judges
XVI 21 in the Light of Akkadian Sources,~ vr 36 (1986), pp. 248-53.
~ This is particularly well analy.ted by Bal in hcr analysis of the Samson and
Delilah stOI)' (~Ddilah Decomposed: Samson's Talking Cure and the Rhetoric
ofSubjectivity,~ chapter 2 in Lethal Love, pp. 37-67, esp. 51-52)_
"' Again, sec BaL ~Dclilah Decomposcd,~ in l..ethal Love, pp. 37..67, esp. 52-58.
~ The Philistines are not actually (lcscribed as lying in wait in the third epi-
sode, which describes the wea\ing of Samson's hair into the loom, bllt the gen-
eral parallelism between that incident and the previous two suggests that we arc
to imagine thcir presence in the Judg. 16:13-14 pericopc.
6 There is debalC in the scholarly literalure about who actually shaved Samson:
some bal-ber whom Delilah is said to summon or Delilah herself? The issue need
not concern us here. For thc two sides of the <!ucstion. see F.e. Fenshaln, "The
Shaving of Samson: A NOle on JUdges Iv: 19," EvQ 31 (1959), pp. 97-98, andJ.~'I.
Sasson, ~Who Cut Samson's Hair? (And Othel' Trifling Issues Raised by Judges
16),~ Prooftexts 8 (1988), pp. 333-39_
36 SUSAN ACKERMAN
triumphs, like the adroit David over the hulking Goliath, over her
morc powerful foe.
To be sure, biblical intc."preters for the last two thousand years
have not tended to remember Delilah as some female counter-
pan of the noble young David: she instead has been immortal-
ized as the temptress flar excellence, the femme fatale, the seductive
siren, the whore. 7 But what if we did notjusl have the hints of a
Philistine point of view that we have already seen embedded in
the text ofJudg. 14:J-16;21? What if the Philistines had also been
responsible for shaping the ways in which Delilah has been ren-
dered throughout the post-biblical era? Although surely no Phi-
listine (or philistine!) himself,john Millon, in his Samson Agonistes,
perhaps answers this question the best, putting these words in the
mouth of Delilah as she Ullers her parting speech:8
, . , [I]n my country, where I most desire,
In Ecron, Caza. Asdod, and in Gath
I shall be named among the f"mousest
Of women. sung at solemn festivals,
Lhing and dead recorded, who to save
Her counlly from a ficrce destroycr, chose
Above the faith of "'edlock.-bands, my lOmb
With odours visited and annual flowcrs (II. 98G-987).
Miltoll's Delilah even goes so far as to consider what the content

of those songs to be sung of her at solemn festivals might be; as
she conceives it, she will be:
Not less rcno\~ned than in MOutH Ephraim
Jael, who with inhospitable guile
Smote Sisera slecping through the tcmples nailed (II. 988-990).
To put the maller another way: Israelite tradition has given us as

part of its legacy the "Song of Deborah" inJudges 5 and the paean
to the hero Jael embedded within it in v. 24-27. Were we, how·
ever, to imagine ourselves as the Philistines' cultural heirs, it might
be the "Song of Delilah" instead---or at least a celebration of the
hero Delilah incorporated into in some larger "Song"-that would
have come down to us as a hymn of praise.
Indeed. although we cannot know how aware he was of all the
specifics, Milton is particularly insightful to compare Delilah in
, As brilliantly catalogued by j.C. Exum in ~Why, Why, 'Vhy, Delilah?~ in Plot~

led. Shol, mul Painled: Cllllural HeprtSnllalions oj IJibli((l{ Women (JSOTSup, 215;
GeT, 3; Shcffield: Sheffield Academic Press. 1996), pp. 175-237.
8 Brought to my attention by Exum, ~Why, Why, Why, Delilah?,~ pp. 201-202.
WHAT IF JUDGES HAD BEEN WRITfEN BY A PHILISTINE? 37
Judg. 16:4-22 tOJael inJudg. 5:24-27. for example, inJudg. 5:24-

27 (and in the parallel account in Judg. 4:17-22), Jael acts on
behalf of the Israelites and against the Canaanite war leader Sisera,
but the text, in both its rccoulltings, is quitc clcar that shc is not
herself an Israelite. Rather, she is from a small ethnic group known
as the Kenites. Delilah, likewise, acts on behalf of the Philistines
and against the Israelite hero Samson even though she herself is
nowhere identified as Philistine; we only know that she comes from
the "Valley of Sorek" (Judg. 16:4), which lies in the Shephelah,
between the hill counlJ)' inhabited by the Israelites and the Philis-
tine plain. Both Delilah and Jael, then, can be envisioned as out-
siders within their stories, playing a role within an ethnic conflict
that is not necessarily their own.
Jael and Delilah both also seem to conduct their lives inde-
pendent of roen, by which I mean that neither is unequivocally
pictured as a part of the household of a father, a brother, or a
husband who has authority over the woman's life. This is clearer
in the case of Delilah, who is never mentioned in relation to a
man other than her paramour Samson and who seems to have
her own house that she manages alone (the place where Samson
sleeps and where the Philistines hide, waiting to capture him, in
a "inner chamber" [Hebrew ~lellerl).Jael's abode is different, since
it is a tent, nOI a house, and, moreover, it is a tent she is tradition-
ally assumed 10 share with a husband, Hebel". The NRSV transla-
tion of Judg. 5:24, for example, reflects this:
Most blessed of women be jac!.
The ,,'ife of Heber (helm') thc Kcnite.
Of lem-dwelling women most blessed.
Many commentators, though, prefer an altcmate rendition, argu-

ing that the second line of this verse describes Jael as "a woman
of the Kenite community."9 The basis for such a translation lies
in texlS from Mari, where the term [tibru11t is used to describe some
sort of a community unit. a clan, a band, or a tribe. to This sug-
9 See, for example. B. Halpem. MThc Resourceful Israelitc Ilistorian: The

Song of Debor'lh and Israelitc Historiography.~ j-ITll76 (1983), pp. 379-401 (388,
n. 45 and 393 n. 56);j.A. Soggill. "'Hcber dcr Qcnil.· Das Ende cines biblischen
Personnennamells?,~ vr31 (1981). pp. 89-92; Soggin.Juriges: A Commelltary (OTL;
Philadelphia: \VCSlmillSter Pre~s. 1981), pp. 74-75.
III A. lIhbrnal, "Mad and the Bible: Some P:ntc..ns orT..ibal Org:.miz:llion and
Instilutions. ~ JAOS 82 (1962). pp. 143-50 (144-46), see also Ihe demiled survey of
the uses of llbr/hbr throughollt Nonhwest Semilic in M. O·Connor. "North-
38 SUSAN ACKERMAN
geslS that !uber, the Hebrew cognate of !Jibrutn, should be similarly

translated as a common noun refening to some sort of bonded-
together group. In fact, elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible, /.ieber does
occur with such a meaning. In Hos. 6:Y, a "band" or a "company"
of priests is referred to as a /.leber Utcber koluinim). The Israelite
place name Hebron (Ilcl.n"on). which is derived from the root ~llr,.,
also seems to draw on this idea of "band" or "company," as can
especially be seen in lcxlS that give the name J(jriath-Arba, the
"City of Four" (presumably, four bonded-together villages), as an
alternative appellation for Hebron. ll In 2 Sam. 2:3, which speaks
of the ~cities (are) of Hebron," we find a further indication that
Hebron was comprised of several small communities that were
banded together as one. If, in Judg. 5:24, we likewise understand
lleber to be a reference to some sort of bonded-together group,
specifically, the Kenites, then Jael, like Delilah, stands again de-
picted as a kind of an outsider, this time standing outside a rela-
tionship with a husband or other male authority figure.
And then there is the sexual imagery that occurs in both the
stories of Delilah and Jae!. In this case, however, neither text is
particularly clear. For example, while Delilah in Judg. 16:4-22 is
commonly assumed to be a seductress and even a whore, this is
never stated explicitly. To be sure, she has her own house where
she entertains Samson; moreover, he is there, we are told, because
he loves her. All this could suggest a brothel. Delilah's story in
addition is prefaced by the story of Samson's Gazaite prostitute,
and this prologue might intimate Delilah's association with pros-
titution as wel!.12 Nevertheless, prostitutes are not the only women
in the Bible who can be depicted as owning houses of their own.
Widows also do, and in many respects, Delilah is as much like a
famous widow of the biblical tradition, Judith, as she is like the
Gazaite prostitute of Judg. 16:1·3, or like Rahab, the prostitute of
Jericho described in Josh. 2:1-24; 6:22-25, with whom she is often
compared. LikeJudith, Delilah is called upon at her home by her
wcst Semitic Designations for Elective Social Affiliations," JANESCU 18 (1986).

pp. 67.80 (72.80).
II Gen. 23:2; 35:27; Josh. 14:15; 15:13; 15:54; 20:7; 21:11;Judg. 1:10.
12 Further on this ~guih by associationfl-that is, lhe negative judgments that
lcnd to be imposed Oil Delilah on the basis of comparing her with the Timnitc
wife ot Judg. 14 and the (jazaite prostitute or Judg. 16:1-3-see J.c. Exum,
~Samson's Women," in Fragmented Women: Feminist (Sub)vmiom oj Biblical Narra-
tive (Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press International, 1993), pp. 61.93, esp. 68-77.
WHAT n- JUDGES HAD BEEN WRITTEN BY A PHILISTINE? 39
region's nobility (the lords of the Philistines come to Delilah in

Judg. 16:5; tlle elders of the town of Bethulia come to Judith in
Jdt. 8:10); like Judith, Delilah seLS out to engage an enemy war-
rior in a one-on-one confrontation (Samson in Delilah's case;
Holofernes in Judith's); and like Judith, Delilah uses the warrior's
auraction to her to gain mastery over him (Delilah ultimately
persuades Samson to reveal the secret of his uncut hair by asking
how he can remain evasive if he truly loves her Uudg. ]6:15];
Judith presents herself dressed in "all her women's finery" so that
she can manage to be left alone with Holofernes in order to at-
tack him in his tent Udt. 12:15]). Finally, Judith's triumph over
Holofernes, beheading him while he is passed out, drunk Odt.
13:6-9), is not so different than Delilah's triumph in "behairing"
Samson while he sleeps. The fact that Judith holds Holofernes'
hair as she severs his neck (jdt. 16:7) makes the connection be-
1:\veen this part of the 1:\'10 stories particularly clear.
Still, in the Delilah story, although there may not be prostitu-
tion, there is, by the end, sexual imagery, as Samson sleeps, while
he is shaved, be1:\'1een Delilah's knees (Hebrew 'al birkeyha;Judg.
16:19). As in passages associated with birth (Gen. 30:3; Job 3:12),
"knees" here should refer to female genitalia. In this respect, the
noun is similar to Jael's raglayim, "feet," also euphemistic for geni-
talia, between which Sisera lies collapsed in Judg. 5:27 after his
head has been struck and pierced in Judg. 5:26. As Susan Niditch
points out, the other language used in Judg. 5:27 to describe
Sisera's collapse is also sexual in character: the verbs kara', "to
kneel," and niipal, "to fall," especially when used in conjunction,
can suggest the sexual posture expected of a would-be lover; the
verb siikab, "to lie," is frequently used in illicit sexual contexts; and
sadild, "despoiled," can be used-as in Jer. 4:30-l0 describe the
fate that those who play the harlot will suffer.l:i But crucial to note
here is that the "harlot" whom sadiUl describes in this text is Sisera;
Jael is no more automatically to be identified as a prostitute than
is Delilah. Indeed, if anything, what underlies the erotic imagery
of both of these passages are intimations not of prostitution but
of motherhood and the womb: Samson lies shorn between Deli·
lah's knees in the same way he lay as a newborn, bald, between
his mother's, and immediately following the description of Sisera
J~ S. Niditch, "Eroticism and Death in the Tale or Jacl,~ in P.L. Day (ed.),
Gender (lnd Differmct in Ancien/Israel (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1989), pp. 43-
5i.
40 SUSAN ACKERMAN
lying between Jael's legs in Judg. 5:27 is a verse that describes his
mother, the woman between whose legs the newly delivered Sisera
first lay (judg. 5:28). Maternal imagery is also found further on
in the same stanza, inJudg. 5:30, where one of the women attend-
ing Sisera's mother suggests (ironically it turns out) that the
reason Sisera is delayed in returning home from war is that he
tarries to collect booty after his viclOry in battle, in particular
women as booty. These "trophy women" are referred to in He-
brew as ra~lam rafu'imiitayim, words whose literal foot meaning is
"womb."14 In addition, there is maternal imagery found in the
verses that precede the description of jael's killing of Sisera, as
jael's giving milk and ghee to Lhe fugitive Sisera in Judg. 5:25 can
be seen as a very nurturing and motherly act. There is in fact even
a rabbinic mid rash that envisions that the milk Jael gives to Sisera
was suckJed by him from her breast. 15
Nevertheless, no matter how like Jael Delilah seems to be-in
terms of an "outside" ethnicity, in terms of standing outside of a
hegemonic relationship with a man, and in terms of combining a
triumph over an enemy with sexual imagery and, more specifically,
maternally-linked eroticism-there is still the fact that Delilah be-
trayed Samson for money (eleven hundred pieces of silver from
each of the Philistine lords who commissioned her; Judg. 16:5),
and this "selling" of herself might present a serious problem to
our "what if" Philistine who would write the laudatory "Song of
Delilah" or extol Delilah in a Jael-Iike manner in a stanza of some
other celebratory hymn. Or would it? In Israelite tradition, the
verses of the "Song of Deborah" that describe Jael offer no rea-
son to explain why she, a Kenite, would act on behalf of the Isra-
elites and against the Canaanites in killing the Canaanite war
leader Sisera. The prose account of the same episode, in Judg.
4: 17-22, likewise offers no reason explaining why Jael acted as she
did. But the prose does offer a powerful argument against Jael's
killing act: it posits that there was a peace treaty between King
Jabin of HalOr, for whom Sisera was said to be fighting, and Jael's
clan. In the logic of Judges 4, that is, Jael is just as much a be-
I.. R. Aller, ~FroTl1 Line lO Story in Biblical Verse,· Poetics Todo)' 4 (1983), pp.
615-37 (633), (as poimed OUl by NidilCh, "Eroticism and Death: p. 46); see also
Aller, The Arl of Biblical POi/ry (New York: Basic Books, 1985). p, 46.
I~ Poinled om by R. Alder, ~A MOlher in Israel: Aspecl.'l orlhe Mother Role
in Jewish Myth,· in R.M. Gross (cd.), Beyolld Androcmlrism: New Essa)'s 011 Womerl
a1ld Religion (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1977), pp. 237-55 (248).
WHAT IF JUDGES HAD BEEN WRrn'EN BY A PHILISTINE? 41
trayer as is Delilah in Judges 16, "selling out" her Kenite kin; in

her case, moreover, "selling out" her Kenite kin without even a
clear-cut motivation (like money), Yet in the biblical tradition as
it has come down to us, Jael is still considered a hero despite her
seemingly unsuborned betrayal because she "sells out" on Israel's
behalf. From a Philistine point of view, the heroic status of Delilah,
who sold herself to capture a Philistine enemy, should likewise
stand undiminished.
In Cecil B. De Mille's film "Samson and Delilah," the last words
Samson (Victor Mature) speaks to Delilah (Hedy Lamarr) before
he is blinded by the Philistines are, "The name Delilah will be an
everlasting curse on the lips of men."16 But as we have now seen,
this enobled depiction of Samson and his everlasting curse of
Delilah is all a matter of perspective. If Judges had been written
by a Philistine, it might well be Delilah who would bear the epi-
thet othenvise given to Jael in Judg. 5:24, "most blessed of
wonlen."
ABSTRACT
Judges 13-16, the saga of Samson, is a text that, in popular imaginatiol1, is lypi-
cally described as depicting the exploits of the heroic Samson against the l'hitis-
tine barbarians. But, in fact. as comment;IlOrs have often pointed out. Samson.
although endowed wit.h superhuman strenglh in this tale, is Olhclwise something
of a fool and a boor: posing an unfair riddle at his wedding feast, engaging again
and again in acts of violent destruction, and revealing the secret of his uncut hair
to Delilah even though she has made clear that she intends to Sllmmon the Philis-
tines to seize him after rendering him powerless. Yet however stupid Samson and
hOWC\'cr forthright Delilah are depicted as being in their inte.-actions IOgether,
popular imagination again has almost always I-emembcred Delilah as the evil se-
ductress who leads the helpless Samson astray. I'hilistine illterpl"eters, though.
might well have remembered Delilah as an e(luiva1cnt of the Is.-aelite hero Jael:
as a woman who, in terms of ethnicity, seems to stand outside of the di'pute in
which she plays a role; as a woman who is not necessarily a part of the house-
hold of a father or husband; and as a womcn depicted in terms of erotic imag-
ery that is primarily maternal ill nature. From a Philistine point of vicw. that is,
Delilah might well bear the epithet Israelite tradition awards toJae! inJudg. 5:24:
"most blessed of womcn.~
16 As in n. 8 above, brought to my attention by Exum. ~Why. Why, Why,

Delilah?~ p. 175
IF DAVID HAD NOT CLIMBED THE MOUNT OF OLIVES
THOMAS L. THOMPSON
Univl!'f5ity of Ccpe1lhagen
Virtual History as Histoncal Method

While Eduard Meyer long ago warned us of the slippery virtu-
ality of the Bible's historical slopes, 1 and Kurt Galling distinguished
for us historical event from tradition varialll,2 Ono Eissfeldl's
hisloricizing revision of Gunkel's Gauungsgeschichte has been nev-
ertheless successful in turning biblical narrative into a virtual cor-
nucopia of historical scenarios.~ Biblical narratives were, he
claimed, storied events: a fictionalized past with roots in a real past
and a real history that could be uncovered through a proper
understanding of the history and growth of these traditions. 4 Bible
historians needed not fear unemployment. And so indeed it was
... for nearly a half century.
However, ifJoshua's assembly of the tribes of Israel at Shechem
offered a distant echo of history's sacred amphictyony creating
Israel as a people of Yahweh,!' Genesis's origin story of Israel in
E. Me}'er, Dk Enlslehung desJlUkntums (Halle: Max Niemeyer, 1906), pp. 130-

31.
2 K. Galling, Die Enll(jhlungstraditionm Israels (BZAW, 48; Berlin: Alfred
Topelmanll, 1928), pp. 1-2.
S I anl thinking here cspecially of his cOlllribution lO the Gunkel Festschrifl:
O. Eissfcldt, 'Slam message und Novclle in den Geschichten von Jakob und scinen
SOhnen'. Eucharisterion: H. Cllnkef:wm 60. Geburtstag, 1 (Berlin: AJfred Topelmann,
1923), pp. 56-77; but see also his ]'cvisions of this thesis: Eissfeldt, 'Achronische,
anachronische und synchronische Elemente in del' Genesis',jEOL 17 (1963), pp.
148-64; Eissfeldt, 'Stammessage und Menschhcitserzahlung in del' Genesis',
Sitzungsherichte der Sochsischen Akademie der Wissenschaft :w Uipzig, (Phil-hist. kl.
Bd 110,4; Unl\'crsitat Leipzig, Leipzig, 1965). pp. !'r21.
4 Here, see esp. Eissfcldt, 'Stammessage lind Menschhcitscrziihlung', follow-
ing, abol'c all, Martin NOlh's revision and s)'nthcsis of Wcllhauscn and Gunkel
(M. NOlh, UberlkJenwgsgeschichle des Pentateuch [Stuugan: W. Kohlhammer. 1948));
sec also G. \"on Rad, Das JOrolgtschichtfiche Problem des fltxaleuch (Stuttgart: \'1'.
Kohlhammer, 1938).
~ M. Noth, Das System d~ zwiJlj Sujrnme Israels (BWANT, lV/l; Stuttgart: W.
Kohlhammcr, 1930): NOlh, 'Ubcdicfcrungsgcschichtliches zur zweitcn Hf,lfte des
Joshuabuches', in H. Junker and J. Botle,wcck (eds.), AIUts/amentliehes Slu(lien:
Friederich NQ/scher zum sechsigen Ctburts/ag 19 Jufi 1950 (BBB, 1; Bonn: Peter
Hannstcin, 1950), pp. 152-67. On the litem!)' and unhistorical characterislics of
IF DAVID HAD NOT CLIMUED THE MOUNT 01'" OLIVES 43
the familiar triad of the patriarchal narratives became, historically,

both redundant and unnecessary, understandable merely as a leg-
endary etiological expansion of Israel's original tribal rootedness
in the early West Semitic migrations. fI The peaceful migration of
judges could then replace the conquering heroes ofjoshua's early
chapters, and an original Mosaic monotheism might far better be
associated with Protestantism's prophetic forebearers. Moses was
no longer necessary, nor as important as he had been in a recon-
struction of ancient Israelite history. The tribal amphictyony under
joshua not only rendered Moses expendable but incompatible as
an historical explanation of Israel's 0l"igins. 7
The conselvative side of the debate about Israel's origins was
far less rational, complicated as it was both by its point of de·
parture in the broad field of comparative ancient Near Eastern
studies and by its positivistic, if not fundamentalistic, orientation
towards biblical narrative. s This latter issue is far more important
than has often been recognized, as it has encouraged historians
to ignore one of the most important aspects of reading texts his-
torically; namely, to understand the anachronic: the meaning of
documents which are not addressed to us. 9 So, Gustav Dalman
could use his immense anthropological experience in Palestine to
recreate a virtual world of the Bible. 'o This 'orientalist', romantic
understanding of the primitive is a denial of the historical, trans-
posing as it does the past with the present. William Albright, on
the other hand, followed a more realist bent, seeking to confirm
the reality of the past through its remnants. l1 However, his depen-
thc amphictyon)·. see most recently N.J>. Lemche, TJII! Ismelilts in Hi~.Io1)' alld
Tradition (Lonis\'il1e: \Veslminster/John Knox Press, 1998), pp. 104-107.
{I M. NOlh, 'Zum Problem del' OSlkanaanaer', ZA 39 (1930), pp. 213-22; Noth,
Geschichte Israels (GOllingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprechl, 2nd edn, 1954); Noth,
Der Beitrag der Archiiologir: tUr Gesrhichte Im/els (TIS, i; Leiden: Brill, 1960), pp.
262-82; Noth, Die Ur.ipnillge des aUell Ismel im Lichte neuer Qllellen (Sluttgart: \-\1.
Kohlhammer, 1950).
7 NOlh, r.eschichte Ismels, p.128; cf. also Lemehe. Tile Israelites, pp. 138-41.
S See T.L. Thompson, The His/aridty oj thf Patriarchal Narratives (BZAW, 133;
Berlin: de Gruyter, 1974), I'p. 6-9. 52-57, 315--16.
9 Thompson. Historicity oj tile Patriarchal Narratives, p. 328; Thompson, 'Das
ahe TeSl'l.lIlCnt als theologisehe Disliplin', in ReligiOlugtschicllte /smels oder Theologie
des allen Testamtmts (18Th, 10; Neukirehcn: Ncukirehner Vcrlag, 1995), pp. 157-
73.
1(1 G. Dalman, Arbeit Ulul Sitte ill Paulstilla 1-11/1 (GfHcrsloh: Dcutschc Palastina
Verein, repro 1964).

II See esp. W.F. Albright. His/0l)', Archeology, alul Christian HU/IIanisWl (Balti-
more: Johns Hopkins UniversilY Press, 1964).

44 THOMAS L. THOMPSON
dence on narrative led him to champion one virtual history after

the other, whose acceptance was dependent-like most fiction-
not on evidence but on his construct's plausibility.12
For nearly two generations, Old Testament studies oscillated un-
certainly between two alternative virtual histories. The Bible was
read according to one's choice. I find it interesting that this im-
passe was finally broken when George Mendenhall offered what
was at hean a theological compromise. l! Moses, who had been
dismissed by Nolh and was nearly invisible in the archaeologically
oriented construcls of Albright, was reinstated, along with mono-
theism, as the original spring from which Israel's history flowed.
AJl and Noth's centuries-long peaceful immigration and
sedemarization of nomads and Bright and Albright's invading
conquerors inaugurating the II-on Age were synthesized by a ser-
mon to Palestine's peasants about freedom from slavel)'_ Already
in 1967, Manfred Weippert, in his decisive critique of the conquest
theory, undersLOod well both the attraction and plausibility of
Mendenhall's scenario, even as he remained faithful to AJl and
Noth's option. 14 Although Nonnan Gott\\lald's support of Menden-
hall's hypothesis of a peasant rebellion with analogous models
drawn from the libraries of American sociology and a Vietnam-
era reading of the Bible in terms of 'liberation theol ogy 'l5 gave
this scenario the form of historical reconstructions common to the
field, the border between historical argument and narrative virtu-
ality had been crossed. History's intrinsic inLOlerance for narra-
tive V'drianIS, once engaged, led to rapid deconstruction. Neither
Niels Peter Lemche's, Israel Finkelstein's nor this writer's short-
lived efforts to offer evolutionary models for Israel's origin l6 could
12 Here, most notoriously, W.F. Albright, Yahweh and Ihe Gods of Canaan (Lon-
don: Alhlone Press, 1968); cr. T.L. Thompson, 'Review ofW,F. Albright, Yahweh
and the (;(xis of Canaan', CBQ 32 (1970), pp. 251-16; M. Weippen, 'Abraham del'
Hebraer? Bemerkungen zU W.F. Alb,ights Deutung der Vater Israds', Biblica 52
(1971), pp. 407-32.
" C,E. Mendenhall. 'The Hebl'ew Conquest of Palestine', BA 25 (1962), pp.
66-87; see also Mendenhall, 'Between Theology and A"cheology',jSOT 7 (1978),
pp, 28-34.
I. M. Weippert. Die Landnahme der ismelilischen Stiimme ;n der "elleTen
wisslmschaftlichell diskllssiQn (GOuingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1967).
15 N.K. Gottwald, The "lhbts of Yahweh: A Sociology of the Religion of Liberated
Israel 125()..1050 BCE (Maryknoll. I'\'Y; Maryknoll Press. 1979); for a systematic
critique, cr, N.r. Lemche, t:arly Israel (Leiden: Brill, 1985); also T.L. Thompson,
The Early History of the Israelite People, (SI-IANE, 4; Leiden: Brill, 1992), pp. 5()..76.
16 Here, one must refer to N.r. Lemche, Del gamle Israel (Arhus: Anis, 1984),
IF DAVID HAD NOT CLIMBED THE MOUNT OF OLIVES 45
shore up histodcal criticism's grand projecl. That we were deal-

ing in virtual history had become obvious, and the suspension of
belief we had freely granted our biblical scenarios no longer held.
T\\u of the guidelines of historical methodology in biblical stud·
ies have been (a) evenlS are singular and (b) those of the past
that we are aware of are the ones we need for our histories. This
not only allows us lO define data as evidence, it also allows us to
assert that the evenlS of the past we imagine on the basis of this
evidence in fan happened. The sense that we make of our world's
relationship to biblical traditions, the importance of such guide-
lines even as we now begin to doubt them, will, I hope, become
clearer as we explore the literary evenlS of our texlS.
The awareness of the hislOricization of our traditions that has
been encouraged by Eissfeldt's and Noth's rationalizing para-
phrases, as well as of the politicization of both archeology and
history today, has increased our sensitivity to the relative charac-
ter of the histories of the past we have chosen to create. 17 What
we have written as a history of Israel has been more a theological
product for an increasingly secularized world than it is the Bible's
hist~ry. We might well ask why it is that as soon as we find any-
thing at all that might be identified as e\;dence supporting a con-
finnation of the possible existence of a central biblical hero-and
here I am thinking of the b)·tdwd in the inscription from Tel Dan l8
and the d(i7)w3t of the Karnak inscription-we begin to read the
publi.shed in Engli.sh as Ancimllsr~ (Sheffield: Sheffield Acadcmic PreMo 1988);

see now, howe\'er, The [sr(ll'liles; see al.50 L Finkel.stein, The Archeology of Ihe Isra-
elil, Settlement (Jerusalem: IES, 1988), now also Finkelstein, The Archeology or
the United Monarchy: An Ahernative View', Levanl 28 (1996), pp. 177-87; and
T.L. Thompson, The Early His/ory of Ihr Israelilt Prof)lr: from the Wriltm and Ar-
dwwlogiml Sourc,s (Leidcn: Ikill. 1992); sec IIOW, howcver, Thompsoll, The Bible
ill His/my: Huw Writers CrellU {/ 'Jasl (London:Jonathall Cape, 1999), published ill
the USA as 77ie MJthic I'asl: IJiblical Archeology and the MJlh of Ismel (Ncw York:
Basic Books, 1999).
17 Already j.M. Sasson, 'On Choosing ~fodcls for Recreating Israelite Pre-
Monarchic History', JSOT 21 (1981), pp. 13-24: cr. al.50 B. Lollg, Plmltillg and
&api"g Albright: Politia, ldbJiogy, UllIllntnprrt;ng tht IJible (PclIll.5}'h~"nia: Univer-
sity of Pennsylvania PreM, 1997).
18 A. Biran andJ. Na\"eh, 'An Aramaic t"rngmelU from Tel Dan', It] 43 (1993),
pp, 81·98; also Biran and Naveh, 'The Tel Dan In.scriplioll: A Ne¥l' Fragment', It]
45 (1995), pp, 1~18; T.L Thomp.50Il, '~House ofDavid~: an Epon}Tuic Rererenl to
Y.. h¥lt:h ..." Godf<lther', 5JOT9 (1995), pp. 59-71; ThompM>n, 'Di»onancc and Di3-
connf:ctions: NOtCli on the byldwd and the hmlJr.hdd Fragmelltj rrom Tel Dan',
SJOT 9 (1995), pp. 236-40.
Bible historically.'9 Whether or not such confirmations are valid,

they add little to OUf hislory and nothing to our understanding of
the historicity or function of our biblical narratives. There never
has been any debate about whether the Old Testament reflected
the past. The recent debates have rather been about whether the
biblical narratives were in any way historical accounts of the past,
or whether they could be used as part of OUf account of that past.
The debate has been about hislOI)' and about how OUf historical
perspectives have changed our perception of the Bible. It is as if
we stop being critical and reson lO the fundamentalism of our
childhood thal history might not corrupt OUf faith. We close our-
selves within the biblical story and avoid all the necessary exegeti-
cal and historical questions which might resolve the debate
through changes in our understanding of the narrative's context,
function and goal. By trying to defend what is called 'the Bible's
view of its past', we have ignored the literary questions that give
us access to the text's implicit voice expressing that view.
The question also needs to be asked: Is virtual history all that
biblical studies ever had? In asking this question now, we are with-
out irony's self-conscious safeguard of knowing what a history of
the real past might look like, a saving grace that supports any
delight over the exposure of our historiography's pretension.
These virtual histories of Israel have been, as Keith Whitelam has
argued?) narcissistic mirrors of our own ideologies, politics and
theology, and substantially arbitrary histories at that. That they
have been written as alternatives to history is a question that
Whitelam's work forces us to ask. Here, the exercise of this vol-
ume might well help us in understanding the history we have cre-
ated. Let us choose renectively virtual histories that we might play
with such themes as evidence and causality. including the
historian's ideal that such causality proceeds in chains. Let us check
the firmness of the linkage and let us refuse to censor our story-
tellers' variants.
19 K.A. Kitchen, 'A Possible Mention of Dal'id in the Law Temh Century BCE,
and Uelly ·Uod as Uead as lhe Dodo?', jSU1' 76 (1997), pp. 29-44.
20 feW. Whilelam, The Invention of Ancient Israel: The Silencing of Palestinian
History (London: Roulledge, 1996).
If David Had Nol Climbed the Mount of Olives, What "11Ien?

As a historical question, of course, this one is nonsense. A his-
torian doesn't ask that kind of question. The historical questions
are, Did he climb the mountain or not? And was it the Mount
of Olives? When did he climb it? And did he ever come down?21
Nevertheless. our question is asked about a story in the Bible (2
Sam. 15), and we might suspend for a moment any domain as-
sumption that the question is a historical one. After all, our
modernist's faith in historical necessity has already destroyed more
than a little of the Bible's theology. Even more to the point, sto--
des and literature of all kinds ask such questions at every turn.
'What if is the guiding light of philosophical discourse through
narrative. This question is asked implicitly, for example, by Mat-
thew: 'Do not presume to say to yourselves, "We have Abraham
for our father". I tell you that God can make children out of these
stones here' (Matt. 3:9). There is nothing irrational about the
question in this context. Cod, it is implied, is the lord of history.
Matthew well understands that Abraham and the children his wives
bore to him lived in a virtual history. whose arbiter was the di-
vine. It is in Matthew's spirit that I ask my question.
If one wishes to convert the Bible's theological discourse into
historical discourse, virtual history is the product of choice. We
engage ourselves in the exploration of a literary world-past as it
is-and we become thereby dependent on the strength of our
imaginative grasp of the world created by the literature we ex-
plore. It is imporL:1.nt to recognize that such a world breaks dovm-
as it has been breaking down since the Enlightenment-as soon
as our sense of the reality of the past departs substantially from
this constructed world. In a world nurtured by historicism, it is
hardly surprising thal the stories of Adam and Eve and of the great
flood. of the tower of Babel and of Sodom and Gomorrah were
the most vulnerable and the first lost to our historical imagina-
tions. It was not because they were either preposterous or im-
possible. Our imaginations failed us. Charles Darwin's Origin of
Species of 1859 combined fatally with the discovery and translations
of the Bible-like tales of Gilgamesh (1850) and the Enuma Elish
(1876). Though my history of science tells me otherwise, I believe
21 lllc implicit allusion of my questions lO Moses and lhe mountains he climbed

is inlenlional.
that the discovery of these literary variants were the most decisive
in undermining the worldview (or imagination) which had ren-
dered the historicity of the Bible's stories plausible. The analogolls
and virtual character of literature stands categorically opposed to
the singularity of historical events. This was so precisely the cen-
tral issue in biblical studies that almost the entirety of critical schol-
arship was exercised throughout the nineteenth century with the
problems of variability of motifs and stories: a crisis which was
ultimately resolved historically with the Graf-Wellhausen 'documen-
tal)' hypothesis', the foundation for historiography in the field ever
since. Historical faith can not tolerate the fertile profligacy of more
literary commitments. Historical possibility is singular. Two can
be debated. A third exposes the literary motives of the tradition.
One can, for example, entertain the defeat of the Jebusites in
Jemsalem by David as potentially historical only by excluding from
consideration the conquest of the Canaanites by Judah or of the
Amorites of the city by Joshua. One hardly wishes to entertain the
question of whether David was in a cave or a valley with Saul, or
whether Jesus was on a mountain or in a plain with his sermon,
And if one does, the understanding which awaits us is more theo-
logical than historical. There is also a technique of variation in
our biblical narrative where one tradition draws from another and
places its story through citation and allusion into conversation with
its predecessor. This is the 'YPe of exegetical process by which Paul
can speak of Jesus as the 'new Adam'. In another manner, Mark
links Jesus with Elijah and Moses in a vision of those who, like
Enoch, 'walk with God', With yet another form, Luke links his
story of Jesus' birth, illustrating 1 Samuel's song of Hannah. Just
so, stories about Jesus often portray him in images drawn from
David. Such ancient exercises in virtual history are well known to
us. It is this kind of literary technique and motif I would like to
explore in my own effon at virtual history, beginning in a read-
ing of David on the Mount of Olives.2\!
The greater story line to which the story of David on the Mount
22 The roots of the story of David on lhe Mount of Olives, as it is now pre-
sented ill 2 Sam. 15, involve several central themes of biblical composition. These
I have discussed in greater detail elsewhere and limit my discussion here to the
briefeSl of comments. For a further discussion of David's role in Bible stories. see
T.L Thompson, 'Historic og tcologi i overskriflerne til Davids sallncr', Collegium
BibliCtlIll Amllrift 1997 (Arhus: Collegium Biblicum. 1997), pp. 88-102; Thompson,
The Bible in History, pp, 21-22, pp. 70-71.
of Olives in 2 Samuel 15 provides a climax might be seen to begin

already in the scene at the very beginning of 1 Samuel, in which
Hannah, like Sarah before her, is barren (l Sam. 1:2). In her great
grief she prays to Yahweh ill the telliple (v. 10). Her prayer is so
intense that Eli the priest believes her to be a drunk and scolds
her. Hannah, in defense of her integrity, offers a paraphrase of a
psalm of David, Ps. 42:5-7,12 (l Sam. 1:15). In acknowledgement
that it is a divine spirit that has possessed her, Eli prophesies that
her prayer will be heard. It is Eli as prophet that Hannah ad-
dresses when she closes the scene with: 'May your servant find
grace in your eyes' (I Sam. 1:18), a prayer which many of Luke's
manuscripts find answered in Gabriel's address to Mary in
Nazareth (Luke 1:28). In Samuel, the prayer is one expressive of
Hannah's humility in prayer. Hannah has prayed for a child; now
she prayers for the grace that God wishes her, a thematic contrast
which forms a leitmotif in 1 Samuel 1-2. When the child is born
she calls him Samuel. Why? Because 'she prayed (sJte'illiv) to
Yahweh for him' (1 Sam. 1:20). In form, this is, of course, a clas-
sic naming etiology, belonging to the traditional patterned scene
of 'the birth of a saviour'.23 The cryptic pesJter of the word play,
however, renders the answer to her prayer 'in God's eyes'. In the
Hannah story, the child's name Shemu'eL, 'the divine name', is
bound inextricably with the fulfilment of her prayer, which, as we
remember was, in her eyes, to take away the shame and humilia-
tion she had shared with Rachel (1 Sam. 1:6, 11; cr. Gen. 30:23).
The answer to her prayer, the grace which she was to receive, was
to be 'grace in God's eyes'. And so Hannah returns to the moun-
tain of God to pray (l Sam. I :24-28). Here Hannah epitomizes
piety. She is 'the woman who stood (there in the temple) and
prayed to Yahweh' (1:27). She prayed (sJte'elali) for this child and
God gave her what she prayed for (sJta'alli). Now she offers
(hish'iLlihu) the child to God. All his days he is dedicated (sha'ul)
to God.
The story is a story aboul prayer. The events of this world are
events which are seen only by a mirror's refraction. Not Saul, but
Samuel is the grace which in God's eyes is given to Hannah to lake
2' cr. the table or this traditional narrative pallcrn in D. Irvin, M)'tharion
(AOAT, 32; Neukirchen: Neukirchllcr Verlag. 1978). Sce also, B.O. Long. The
Problem of Etiological Narrative in the Dill Tes/amellt (BZAW, 108; Berlin: de Gruyter,
1968).
away her shame. In the transcendent perspective of the divine,

Hannah prays for all of Israel, for all humanity and for the shame
to be removed, as an answer to her prayer is glimpsed in Lhe birth
of yet another child, in I Sam. 4:21: Ichabod, [Ii's grandson who
was marked with the shame ('i-kahod) of Israel's loss of the divine
kabod. when God's name no longer dwelled in Israel. It is in
Hannah's Son Shemu'tl that an understanding of grace, as God sees
it, can be understood. It is in names that human destiny is eS13J>.
Jished (a hislorical necessity and causality which has ever been the
envy of the hisLOrian). This is the beginning of the Saul story in
God's C)'ts: to re-establish God's kabod in Israel. This scene eSlab-
Iishes a plot tension within the narrative which is not resolved until
2 Samuel 6-7, when David brings the ark back to Zion and Yahweh
establishes David's house forever (le-'olam, 2 Sam. 7:29) that the
children of Israel might be established as God's eternal people (ad
'olam, 2 Sam. 7:24) and Yahweh as their God. 24 It is in this implicit
author's voice that Hannah's universal and cosmic psalm of salva-
tion is to be read, and with it the whole of I and 2 Samuel within
the context of this song, which is reiterated at its closure in 2
Samuel 22: 'There is no rock like our God' (1 Sam. 2:2); 'Yahweh
is my rock, my fonress, my salvation' (2 Sam. 22:2). It is also
Yahweh, Hannah sings (in yet another variation of this wordplay,
Saul and David's destiny are wrapped within a cryptic allusion to
the theme of birth and salvation), who is the one who both 'brings
one down to Hades (sM'ot) and raises one up' (I Sam. 2:6; 2 Sam.
22,6).
The story in I Samuel turns again to this theme in the story of
Samuel's call in I Sam. 3:1-19. At the close of this scene Eli inter-
prets the mysterious voice which has called Samuel from his sleep
in a time in which God is silent: 25 'He is Yahweh: he does what is
good in his own eyes!' This definition of Yahweh as Israel's pa-
tron that introduces the complex chain of narratives in 1 and 2
Samuel can already be seen in Genesis 1 in the set reiteration of
the refrain: 'And God saw that x was good', especially as it stands
in contrast to the woman of Gen. 3:6 (made in God's image, Gen.
It This is well understood by Luke 1:25 as once again the binh of a child
remo\'es Israel's shame (I wi$h (0 thank I. Hjelm for pointing out the importance
of the Ichabod tale in reference to the Hannah and Elizabeth Stories).
r. So, in the introduction to the story in 3:1, lhere is II silualion of gra\'e
thre.1,( comparable (0 Jerusalem jusl before the fall (Lam. 2:9); also a day of hope
and truth in which the pious hunger for Yahweh's silenl \'()ice (Amos 8:3; so in I
Kgs 19:12b).
H' DAVID HAD NOT CLIMBED THE MOUNT OF OLIVES 51
1:26) who 'sees the tree as good' and so eats of it. and establishes
the universal chain of narratives in Genesis I-II about the divine
and the human in conflict over their contrary views of the good.
1 and 2 Samuel bring this patron-client connict into explicit f<r-
cus. So. for example. the bridge narratives linkingJudges 1-16 with
the books of Samuel is historiographically structured in evil times
'when there was no king in Israel. Everyone did what he saw to
be good' (Judg. 17:6; 18:1; 19:1; 21:25). In the implied voice of
this greater stOI)', the role of Yahweh's messianic king is illustrated
by David's role in 2 Samuel 22 as piety's epitome of the fear of
God: 26 to do not as he himself wishes. btU to be a true king and
'ebed Yahweh, to do what in God's eyes is good. Only so can the
children of Israel survive as the people of God.
That it is Yahweh who controls events in this world, 'brings down
to Hades and raises one up in life', provides a paired motif in 1
and 2 Samuel: the eternal covenant by Yahweh's choice, which is
used to illustrate Hannah's song of Yahweh's power over life and
death. Eli and his house. with whom Yahweh had made an eter-
nal covenant (ad 'olam, I Sam. 2:30), however, is rejected. The rea-
son for the rejection? Because Eli had honoured his sons more
than God (l Sam. 2:29). In his place. Yahweh's chosen will be 'a
true priest' (kohen ne'eman) and for him Yahweh will build up a
house of truth (bayit ne'eman) so that he will walk before his mes-
siah forever (kot haYJ'amim: I Sam. 2:35). But, of colll"se. Samuel's
sons too, in a doublet of the Eli tale. also fail the test of the kohen
ne'eman (1 Sam. 8:3), and Israel's destiny passes to Saul.
Already in the vel)' request for and choice of Saul as king, the
story begins to collect portents of disaster. The scene of Israel
asking for a king is a deft reiteration of the wilderness murmur-
ing tradition. In 'Samuel's eyes' (1 Sam. 8:6) this was wrong. As
in the Moses stOl)', however, human evil is not taken very seriously
by the Lord of history (Gen. 50:19-20); the people's rejection is
not of Samuel but of Yahweh. When Samuel prays to Yahweh to
send thunder and rain because of this demand for a king that
Yahweh 'sees' as 'evil'(l Sam. 12:17). Yahweh sends the storm. The
people, then. beg Samuel to pray to Yahweh for them that they
not die for their evil in asking for ([ish'ot) a king (1 Sam. 12:19)!
2ft The role or Uavid as piety's 'everyman' is discussed 111 some detail 1Il T.L.
Thompson, 'Historic og leologi'; cf. also Thompson, 'Metaphors of Eternal Life:

Resurrection MOlifs in lhe Psalter', fonhcollling.
52 THOMAS L. TI-IOMPSON
In closing this variant of the golden calf Slory, the narrative voice,
having raised this forward looking spectre of Saul, reminds the
audience of Yahweh's power over life and death. Samuel prom-
ises to show them the good and I'ight way. They must serve Yahweh
'with their whole heart' and noL follow after gods of emptiness. If
however, they do evil, they and their king will die (I Sam. 12:20-
25).
One is hardly surprised that Saul's inaugural saving deed as
Yahweh's messiah and Israel's king in I Samuel 13 ends in disas·
ter. Saul's perspective is set in contrast to Yahweh's demand for
unwavering obedience. Saul's great lesson is put bluntly as Samuel
declaims, 'Whereas you have not obeyed the command Yahweh
your God has given you, and whereas at this time (hi 'alah) Yahweh
has established your kingdom over Israel ad 'olam, now (we-'alah)
your kingdom will not stand. And, Yahweh now will choose a king
'after his own heart' (1 Sam. 13:13-14). Here the narrative offers
a lightly cryptic allusion to David (dwd, 'the beloved'): the great
Sha'ul, the ponent of She'ol, a king according to Israel's heart, is
contrasted to the choice of Yahweh's heart.
It is in the variant to chapter 13 which we find in I Samuel 15,
that the test of Saul over Yahweh's patronage reaches its climax.
The double entendre surrounding Saul's name seals his fate. In the
story's opening, the narrator offers us a human perspective of
Saul's victol)' over the Amalekites. The king destroys 'all that was
worthless and despicable' (1 Sam. 15:9). The reader finds Good
King Saul, the good general. He spares Agag. And he puts aside
the best of the sheep and cattle, the calves and the lambs to offer
them to Yahweh. Yahweh, however, is angry again. As in chapter
13, Yahweh demands obedience, not sacrifice. Innocem Saul is un-
aware that he is undone (I Sam. 15: 13)! The story is hardly kind
to Saul. He is stopped in mid-sentence of his victory celebration,
as Samuel asks him, 'Do you want to know what Yahweh says?'
Saul's tragedy in this tale reflects the hubris of humanity. Saul's
great deed is evil in Yahweh's eyes (1 Sam. 15:19). Saul does not
understand because 'he has utterly destroyed the Amalekites'. The
effon of his piety to sacrifice to Yahweh is met with a greater in-
difference than that Yahweh had shown to Cain (Gen. 4:5), as
Saul's stOI)' turns to its threefold humiliating closure. 'Yahweh is
not a man that h(": should repent' (l Sam. 15:30)! Saul is a man,
however, and does repent. He abandons all that he wishes, even
forgiveness, only that he might worship Yahweh. In the face of such
abject humility, this last request is accepted, that he might wor·

ship. Having dealt with the all-too-human 'Good King Saul' in his
repentence, the stOI)' closes inexorably as Samuel cuts Agag to
pieces before Yahweh. Saul has been rejected because he did what
he saw to be right evil in Yahweh's eyes. True belief is loyalty and
allegiance, submission and unquestioning obedience to the divine
will. This same theme has long been recognized in the climax of
the Job story, which ponrays a scene of humiliation similar to
Saul's. The just man dares to call Yahweh before the court of jus-
tice. This is according to the human understanding of justice.
Appropriate to the theme of the divine perspective as diametri-
cally opposed to the human, Yahweh never appears in Job's imagi-
nary court. When he does show himself to job, job submits; and
what he says is pertinent: 'I spoke of what I did not understand
J had heard of you only b)' the hearing of the ear; now, however,
my eyes see you, and I despise myself and repent ... ' Uob 42:3-6).
Human understzlI1ding is not the same as God's; what we under-
stand as true and what we see as good is not thereby true and
good. \o\'hat is true and good is as God sees it.
The story that stands in pola.·ity to Saul's rejection is found in 2
Samuel 15. This story of David illustrates the headings of so many
of his psalms. Now, all David's efforts to avoid disaster collapse.
HUlued by Absalom, abandoned by his friends and despairing of
all hope that he can ever turn his fate away from defeat, David
'seeks refuge in Yahweh' and finally 'walks in piety's path of righ-
teousness'. He climbs the Mount of Olives, overlooking jerusalem,
where, ule text tells us, one is 'wont to go to pray' (2 Sam. 15:32).
It is time for the man of action to give himself to prayer. David,
in his role as piety's representative, is used to illustrate the power
of prayer. David's stal)' reflects the exhortation in Ps. 2:8: 'Pray,
and I will make the world your inheritance.' It is the role he was
given in Ps. 3:1, 'when he ned from his son Absalom'. 'My enemies
are many; they rise against me; they say: God will not save him'
(Ps. 3: 2-3)1 David has nothing left; he climbs to his final refuge.
He weeps as he climbs the mountain. He is barefoot; his head is
bowed; everyone who is with him has his head bowed and weeps.
David speaks to Zadok ($edeqah: 'righteousness, discernment') and
the story clarifies its theme. This is the Zion that Hannah had
climbed before him; a mountain like Abraham's Moriah in Gen-
esis 22, one to test his life to the core. Israel's time of 'lchabod'
shame is David's burden. Now seeking counsel in righteousness,
David climbs as a man of piety to shout his song that Yahweh might
answer from his holy place (Ps. 3:5): 'If 1 find grace in Yahweh's
eyes, he will let me see once again his ark and his dwelling' (2 Sam.
15:25). And then wisdom's key which unlocks the story: 'Ifhe says
that he no longer wishes to bother with me, so then may he do to
me as he sees as good' (2 Sam. 15:26). David as the man of piety
stands in contrast to Saul: he is emptied of all self-will. He is the
apogee of Yahweh's messiah and king: humanity's representative
as the se~'ant of Yahweh. In humility, David crosses over his moun-
tain. Absalom-though Yahweh's messiah-dies ignominiously,
hanging from a tree. David turns towards Jerusalem as the king,
Yahweh's beloved, and, riding down the mountain on a donkey,
enters his kingdom.
In the virtual history which is the Bible, David had to climb his
mountain just as Abraham was certain to hold to his faith on Mount
Moriah and Hannah to offer her child on Zion. David is the one
chosen after Yahweh's heart. It was the essence of his character to
seek refuge in Yahweh and to take himself to the mountain to pray
as much as it had been Saul's destiny to fail. If David had not
climbed the Mount of Olives, Absalom would not have been hung
from his tree and killed; Davirl would not have entered his king~
dom; the temple would not have been built; and David would not
have been the 'beloved' ofYahweh. 27 In other words, David would
not have been David. His destiny was by necessity, given the text
in which he played out his life. Each of our literal}' heroes fol-
lows the necessity of his or her role as reiteration of the transcen-
dent truth expressed more philosophically for us in Ps. I :6: 'Yahweh
affirms the path of righteousness, but the way ofthe godless fails.'
This is the reality which underlies all of our stories; the fate of
our heroes is not by their own decision or choice but by the will
of God: by necessity. This is a literary voice, which deals with vir~
tual histories as a matter of course. Historical causality is Yahweh's,
a historical necessity which is inscrutable and ineffable.
Virtual History as Method in Intellectual History

A literal}' discourse lies at the center of our historical as well as
exegetical questions which entertain the question of a text's im-
27 On the relationship between David, the divine epithel dwd and the temple
inJerusalcm, sec Thompson, "'House or David"'.
plicit authorial \'oice. If we now turn to imroduce our modern

question of virtual history to the Bible, it must be addressed to
what is more appropriately the literary history we write: the rela-
tionship of our texlS and traditions, the intellectual history implicit
in our tradition.
Let us stay with David on his Mount of Olives and ask a Iitera!)'-
historical question: If David had nol climbed the Motml of Olives,
would Jesus have been crncified? It is Hannah and David's 'every-
man's' story of piety which the Gospels have Jesus reiterate in
Jesus's story on the Mount ofOtives in Mark 14:32-42 (Matt. 26:30-
46). Here too the exhortation to prayer of Ps. 2:8 lies at the cen-
ter of the story's illustration: 'Pray and I will make the world your
inheritance; you will possess the ends of the earth. ·~s Just as surely,
it is Ps. 3:5-7 that Mallhew has Jesus and his disciples sing with
confidence that Yahweh will answer his prayer from his holy moun-
lain, that they may rest in sleep and awake to Yahweh's support. 29
Jesus reiterates on the Mount of Olives the virtue of humility and
self-understanding thal David sang of in PSt 37: II and Jesus laught
the crowd in Malt. 5:5: 'It is the meek who wi.11 inherit the earth.'
Prayer is to find one's refuge in God, to recognize lhal it is the
divine that determines one's fate. All climb the mountain to illus-
trate the power of such prayer. The messiah enters his kingdom
through humility and meekness.
The manner in which the different stories illustrate this transcen-
dent tntth varies, but the truth reiterated is invariable. When Jesus
climbs the Mount of Olives the night before he dies, he too plays
the role of everyman in his story. He goes where one is wont to
go to pray. He is abandoned by his friends; he weeps in grief and
despair and is without hope. In his turn, he speaks Hannah's and
David's prayer of righteousness: 'Not my will, but yours be done.'
The reader sought by this story in all ilS variations is the one who
might recognize that it is not by human will but by the will of God
that one enters the kingdom; il is those who pray, the meek, who
inherit the earth. This reiterated, virtual history is a philosophi-
cal discourse on a tr<tdition's meaning.
At the close of his StOI)', Mark transfonns Absalom's ignomini-
ous death hanging from an oak tree (2 Sam. 18: 9-17) by linking
it with David's story. Jesus goes down from the Mount of Olives
III Thompson. Th~ Bibh in History, pp. 22-23.

" Thompson, T~ Bibh in History, PI'. 70-71.
with David: to enler Jerusalem. With Absalom, he hangs from

Golgotha's tree in his passage into his kingdom. In doing 50, Mark
draws from yet another tradition, which one might well glimpse,
for example, in Pesher Nahum's motif of the crucifixion associated
with the coming of the Kittim and the 'Lion ofWrath'.~ This theme
has iLS roOLS in the theme of testing and suffering, of the wilder-
ness as the path to resurrection and to a new creation. In the fifth
song of Lamentations, the sign of a desert Jerusalem 's and Judah's
godlessness on the day of wrath is a city in which women and 'vir-
gins are raped and princes hung by their hands' (Lam. 5:11-12).
Il is through such suffering that the messiah in Mark on his day of
wrath comes into his kingdom.
The motif of David's entrance into Jerusalem cursed and humili-
ated (2 Sam. 16:5-13) finds David's prayer, 'May Yahweh see my
need and give me this day happiness instead of a curse' (2 Sam.
16:12), is answered at the very end of David's struggles-'when
Yahweh had saved him from all his enemies' (2 Sam. 22:1). It is
interpreted in terms of Hannah's vicarious 'raising the horn of
Yahweh's messiah' in her song of victory (I Sam. 2.10). This in-
terpretation of messianic potency sung by David himself in chap-
ter 22. casts the whole of I and 2 Samuel's long narrative in the
light of eternity. 'David sings to Yahweh his song of praise and is
saved from his enemies' (2 Sam. 22:4). 'He has given his king great
victories; he has shown himself true to his messiah, to David and
his family to eternity' (2 Sam. 22:51). It is this interpretation that
Mark uses. It is through sufTe.-ing and humiliation thatJesus comes
into his kingdom. Mark's placement ofJesus' t.-iumphal march into
Jerusalem marks Jesus' entry into this world's Jerusalem, setting
up an ironic contrast to his entry into his heavenly kingdom
through humiliation. Mark 15:33-39 offers a powerful scene with-
out any excess of commenta'1" Jesus' final despairing complaint
is 'My God, my God, why have you abandoned me'? With echoes
of the Mount of Olives, Mark presents Jesus as Yahweh's suffering
messiah: he quotes David singing Ps. 22:2-3: 'My God, my God,
why have you abandoned me? You are far from my shout for help,
from my scream. My God, I shouted in the day, but you do not
answer, and at night but I find no rest.' This prayer with which
Jesus' dying scream opens inescapably calls up the confident the-
:10 cr. G. Doudna. Prsh" Nahum: A Critical Edition (Copenhagen International

Seminar; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. forthcoming).
ology in Ps. I :2-3 that he who prays day and night will be like a
tree of life planted by Yahweh's stream. 31 Jesus takes on the role
of David as the man of prayer. Like David, he has put his trust in
God; he was scorned and despised by people. In Mark, those who
misunderstand his call to God olTer the reader an implicit proph-
ecy: like David, the messiah is to be betrayed; he is to be aban-
doned even by God, a prelude to his entrance into his kingdom. 32
This role is furthered by yet another quotation from a song David
sang in his suffering: 'They gave me poison to eat and vinegar to
quench my thirst' (Ps. 69:22). At his scream, the curtain of the
temple that separates the transcendent from this ephemeral world
is torn in 1:\'0'0: the messiah enters his kingdom. Mark's StOI)' self·
consciously mirrors I and 2 Samuel's presentation of David in the
role of Yahweh's messiah, not only in the story of David on the
Mount of Olives, but also in its intel'pretation in 2 Samuel 22 and
throughout the Psalter, where David takes up the messianic role
of warrior in Yahweh's cosmic war.
Now, when we return to our question of virtual histol)', it is
clearly in'e1evant whether David did or did not climb the Mount
of Olives, or whether Jesus was ever crucified. The truth of our
stories hardly lies in theil' events. These events can easily be re-
placed by some dozen alternatives. Human history offers ephem-
eral illustrations of eternal truths. If, on the other hand, we put
our question to Paul's statement, 'IfJesus had not risen, our faith
is in vain', we find that we have entered a world, not the virtual
histol)' of this world, but one of theological necessity. Paul's state-
ment is hardly to be read as a hisLOrical argumelll, as Roland de
Vaux once paraphrased i[ ..'~ It is hardly used to cast doubt on
faith. Rather, Paul's assertion renects a typically Hellenistic indif-
ference to the historical. It echoes Qohelet. Our faith is not empty,
but a faith in the living God. Therefore, I'esurrection and life are
to be affirmed! As David, playing the role of piety's representa-
tive, is forced by intellectual necessity LO submit his wiIl to Yahweh's
because he is in his essence the 'beloved' of Yahweh, so too must
Jesus, as piety's representative of the victol)' over death, play his
" For this imerprclation, sec Thompson, TIlt !Jiblt ill Hisfmy, pp. 244-48.
~~ Thompson, The Bible ill /-lisfOl)', pp.358-59.
" '~I la 101 hlstorique d'lsraeJ n'csl pas londce dans l'hlsLOlre, celle 101 CSI
CIToncc, et la notre aussi' (R. dc Vaux, 'Les palriarches hcbrcux cll'histoirc', R..J3
72 11965J. PI" 5-28 [7]).
Absalom role, hanging from a tree that he too might enter his
kingdom. This is the role he has.
In the world of biblical narrative, the world of experience is
virtual; it is passing and variable. However, the world as God sees
it stands. It is not the sLory of David, but the interpretive song of
2 Samuel 22. The Israelite tribes did not conquer Jericho. Yahweh's
heavenly warrior of Josh. 5: 15 did. The real world of transcen·
dence can be seen occasionally breaking into the human world of
experience: in the vision of Ezekiel 43, in the fUlure of lsa. 11:1-
9 and in the transfiguration of Mark 9:9-13. For the rest, we see
as through a mirror, darkly.
ABSTRACT
The history of Israel has always been a virtual history. Until recentJy, historical
debate in the field has confined itselr almost entirely to a discussion about alter-
native fictional scenalios ror the past: the patriarchs and the cOIl(luest stories as
an alternative lO the exodus and settlement narralkes; Moses or Ezra; Josiah or
John Hyrcallus, Evidence, when it has been or illlerest lO the field at all, has
ever been in regard to any given scenario's persuasiveness. The story or David on
the Mount or Olives is used as an example or the theological world at sUlke in
the Bible's virtual history; particulady in regard lO lhe motir or Yahweh as 'the
101"d or hislOry', Recognition or such virtuality in the biblical tradition aids the
COlllemporary historian or illtcllectual history. The story orJesus on the Mount
or Oli\"es is used 10 illustrate this.
FILLING IN HISTORICAL GAPS,
HOW DID JORAM REALLY DIE?, OR, THE INVENTION
OF MILITARISM
ERNST AXEL KNAUF

University of Hem
Michael Niemann .tum /9. X. /998
In the case of Ancient Israel, the historian's primary task is to

find out what really happened. There is no point in writing 'AI·
ternative History' if the history for which an alternative is pro·
posed is nothing but a product of the University of Bethel's 'Cre-
ative Hisl0l}' Writing Class' of 627 BeE. It is difficult to prove that
David ever made love to Bathsheba, for his name does not figure
in any contemporary documenl. l In the case of joram, however,
last king of the renowned dynasty of Omri, everything seems to
be clear: we have a dead body-Joram's-and we have a detailed
account of the murder, giving the name of the murderer: Jehu, a
culprit who, as is often the case with politically motivated atroci·
ties, does not deny the charge, but rather seems to be proud of
it. 2 Unfortunately, a second, and contemporary, confession was re-
cently unearthed at Tel Dan. Now it is Hazael, parvenu-king of
Damascus, who claims to have killed both Joram, king of Israel,
and Ahaziah, of the Dynasty of David. 3 So the question is again:
Who dunnit?4
I It is as difficult to deny that he did (on the basis of this assumption, the
need to explain the origin of I Sam. 16-1 Kgs 2 quickly leads beyond the limits
of rcasonable spcculation). In any case, a histolically reconstructed David who
would fit IntO the Structures and conditions of the tenth century BeE (insofar as
we know them) would ne\'cr bc identical with the David of biblical literature.
2 It stands to reason that 2 Kgs 9-10 reflects the point of view ofJehu's eIHOll-
rage.
3 Cr. H.-P. Meillcr, 'Die al<lmaische Inschrift VOIl Tel Dan', ZAH 8 (1995),
pp. 121-39; B. Halpern, 'The Stela from Dan: Epigraphic and Historical Consid-
erations', BASOR 296 (1994), pp. 63-80; N. Na'aman, 'Hazacl of 'Amqi and
Hadadeler of Beth-rehob', UF27 (1995), pp. 381-94.
• Readers of ancient Ncar Eastern hist,ory may recall the case of Kamosh 'asa,
king of Moab, who defeated a Qedarite chieftain in the days of his suzerain
Ashurbanipal, King of Assyria, a coincidcnce which provided sufficiellt I"eason for
Ashurbanipallo claim this military success for himself in later cditions of his an-
nals. The solution of the Jehoram case can hardly be as simple as that.
60 ERNST AXEL KNAUJo'
Limitations of space and lime necessitate a mere outline of the

investigation's results." First, it is not true that Joram left the
Ramal-Gilead from and retired toJezreel (2 Kgs 9:14-15) because
he was wounded in action. This was the official statement for
public consumption. It is true thatJoram left the army, which he
did not like anyway, and the war against the Aramaeans, which he
disliked even more, and went to his Trianon called Jezreel-an
action which was perfectly understood by the army's leading of·
ficers (or so they thought) who all knew thatJoram was in perfect
health. The dislike between Joram and his army was mutual. Con-
trary to what was thought (and whispered) at headquarters, it was
not Shulamit bat Amminadab who drew him to jezreel, but he
did what he could to nurture the rumour. He had his chariot
adorned with lilies when he left.
joram hated the war because he, his father and his grandfather
had been allied to the Aramaeans of Damascus until, the year
before, the Aramaean general Hazael had killed his royal master
(Joram's beloved 'uncle Haddy', full name Hadad'ezer) and
usurped the Damascene throne. Out of personal obligation to the
deceased, joram had finally succumbed to jehu's (his chief of
staff's) constant demand to fight a war regardless of where. against
whom and for what reasons,just to prove what a fine Israelite army
jehu had formed. But, as Joram knew well, there was no feasible
alternative to the entente cordiale between Israel and Aram for either
of them, nor for the Phoenician merchant cities who had always
covered the expenses. Twelve years ago, Aram and Israel had
withstood, on the Qarqar plain, the onslaught of a new and rather
disturbing player in the field of Syrian politics: Assyria. Assyria hov-
ered in the north, Assyria was poor, Assyria's economy subsisted
on basically nothing, but Assyria had an army. Israel and Aram
had their armies, too, as every kingdom was meant to have: the
knights of the royal guard in their gaudily painted and lavishly
gilded chariots, never to be used in action, because action would
be harmful to the paint and the ornaments, and to the feathers
on the knights' helmets, and to their rich but tasteful uniforms.
They also had the levy of the tribes and the cities, marching at
ease in any order that pleased them (i.e., generally in none at all),
eager to see the world, to empty other cellars than their own, and
~ For crcdcntials, [ may POilll Qut th:a I was baptizcd in thc parish church of
the Mfmchhausen barony, and thus had acccss to more Hieroglyphic Tales than
Horace Walpole would havc imagincd.
FILLING IN HISTORICAL GAPS 61
to do no serious harm to anybody, least of all to themselves. A

battle, usually, was a rush and a roar, much arms-elauering but
little arms-using, until one side advanced to the rear. This side
was regarded as defeated and had to pay for the beer.
Not so Assyria. Other kingdoms had an army, but 'The Army'
had Assyria. Or was Assyria. The military was the only trade and
craft that thrived in the north. The Assyrian army exercised be-
fore breakfast, after breakfast, before lunch, skipped lunch and
continued exercising, before dinner and after dinner. And now
they came.
When the two hosts were arranged on the Qarqar plain, lhe
Syrian medley on one side and the Assyrian army on the other,
first there was silence. Then the evolutions began: the Assyrian
formed lines, double lines. triple lines, deployed from line into
column and back again, formed squares, moons, stars, half·moons
and finally, triangles. One hundred years later the Syrians would
have known that they were supposed to be impressed and to give
up fighting, but in 853 BCE it was all new and rather curious. The
Syrians, nol knowing what to think of the show, finally made the
best of it and applauded (their only casualties on this fine day were
those who had died of laughter). The Assyrians, having exercised
evolutions but not yet bow-firing with live ammunition, did not
know what to do further and retreated to their camp, where that
very night most of them went down with diarrhoea. The Syrian
coalition lost all their horses at sunset, when the Arab auxiliaries
arrived on camels-too late for any meaningful action other than
frightening the horses away. The next day, the knights had to draw
the chariots by t11emselves. The battle was a draw: no peace treaty,
no beer-<lrinking; dismally, the two armies went home. The only
lasting result was an ordinance by the Assyrian king that hence-
forth evel)' soldier was actually supposed to kill his enemy or would
be killed instead. In his official report, he invented immense num-
bers of enemy casualties, and by his ordinance he made sure that
there would be a considerable number of casualties in battles to
come.
Joram did not like the Assyrians, and he liked less that the
Assyrian way of military exercise slowly penetrated his own army's
mentality and conduct. Jehu was a prime example of the 'New
Model Soldier'. He had learned to drive a chariot and to wear a
uniform when he was three years old, and nothing else thereafter.
Jehu loved the army (joram agreed that the knights did look
62 ERNST AXEL KNAUF
pretty on parade), but he did not love Lhe soldiers at all. He was
rather fond of the function they had to fulfill: to kill and to die.
Jehu loved war, which ga\"C him that supreme feeling of power
and sublime drunkenness which he abhorred in civil life (he was
a vegetarian and lCalOlaller). In brief,Jehu was incredibly stupid,
and Joram had him appointed chief of staff only because he
thought that in lhis position Jehu would do Lhe least harm (sol-
diers were not highly regarded in Ancient Israel, and officers of
the General Staff even less). Now, what Joram resented in the
military camp at Ramol Gilead was not just the war that he did
not really want, nor the permanent presence of Jehu, nor the
absence of his beloved Shulamit (11011hat the king might not have
brought his favourite concubine into camp--most kings did so--
but Shulamit, not being head of government or senetary of state,
refused to tolerate Jehu even for a second). What made Joram
concerned and caused his premature departure from the field of
glory was not the fact that Jehu and Hazael had both participated
in the joint Aramaean-Israelite study group to analyze the Battle
of Qarqar, and had submitted a proposal for the Assrrianizing of
the coalition annies, which had been gradually implemented since
then. This he knew. But now he discovered that more communi-
cation took place between the Aramaean headquarters and the
Israelite General Staff than he was aware of; and, it was the per·
son of me intermediary t11at appeared especially troublesome.
The intennediary between Jehu and Hazael was called Elisha,
and was known as the fanatical leader of the 'YHwH-A1one Move-
ment'. Elisha, from a priestly family in a small town in Gilead (he
still received his share of their temple's revenues, though he had
never officiated and would never do so) had, after an unsuccess--
ful attempt to join the administration, founded a new sect. He de·
manded of his compatriots that they should worship YHWH alone,
and worship him as he, Elisha, advised them. There is no god but
the One God, and all power, praise and glory is due to his humble
selVant on earth. Now monotheism was nothing new. Monothe-
ism, the insight that the deity is finally one and that all the gods
and goddesses somehow relate to him or her, representing aspects
or local manifestations of the Supreme Being, was formulated by
the philosophers of Egypt at the end of the second millennium
BeE and knowledge of it was common among the educated. So it
was perfectly possible to be an Israelite and worship him as YHWH,
or a Sidon ian and venerate her as Ashtoret, or a Tynan and adore
HLLlNG IN HISTORICAL GAPS 63
him as Melqart-Baal. Because all the deities were finally one, songs
and rituals could be borrowed from one cult by another. Instead
of 'Hadad is my shepherd' one might equally also sing 'YHWH is
my shepherd', and the fine arts of Phoenicia had greatJy impl'oved
the decoration ofYHwH's temples. In the presence of pictures and
music, the most boring sermon could somehow be sustained. Now,
the YHwH-AJone people hated pictures and detested music (and
dancing). The movement recruited ilSelfamong the lower middle
class, among those who whel-e marginalized by the economic and
cultural boom of the past fifty years: small freeholders, who could
not compete with the large estates; the last producers of flint
blades and sickles (iron was so much more efficient); grocers suc-
cumbing to the competition of the newly-invented department
stores. The YHwH·AJone Movement was a form of monotheism of
the uneducated: There is only one Cod, and he is our Cod,
whereas your gods are mere idols. How could such a god appeal
equally to the high ranking Tyrian colony at Samaria, to the olive
oil producers of Galilee, to the almond-plantation owners of Be-
thel, to the shepherds in the mountains, to Galileeans,Jezreelites,
Gileadites and Ephraimites? Unfortunately, the number of Israel-
ites who refused further to can}' the burden of being civilized and
flocked to the meetings of the YHwH-AJone-and-lsrael-First Move-
ment grew. They regarded Elisha, whose basic interest in life
seemed to be that everybody should feel as miserable as he felt
himself, as a holy man (which made him sacrosanct and allowed
him to move freely between the two armies).
What Joram learned about the Elisha-Hazael:Jehu connection
was disturbing enough. Hazael encouraged Jehu to get rid of his
royal master much in the same manner as Hazael had dispatched
his king; he should seek the support of the YHwH-Alone Move-
ment (their political aim of national independence would never
be implemented, but they would provide a pressure group for in-
ternal disturbance, and war-machine fodder for the Great War to
come), for Assyria was approaching again, and one could only
fight Assyria with Assyrian means-something that Hazael in Aram-
Damascus, and Jehu in Israel, had to accomplish. It was the last
piece of news that disturbed Joram most. The Assyrian army had
now adopted a quick firing composite bow and presented a dread-
ful threat. If Israel should succumb to civil war, the coalition would
be defeated well before the armies were drawn up for battle. Joram
needed to think, and this he could never accomplish in Jehu's
64 ERNST AXEL KNAUF
headquarters. He needed Shulamit's presence, Avilal's cooking,

and the diplomatic connections ofJczcbcl, his Phoenician mother.
So he went to jczreel.
AtJczreel, he summoned his vassal Azariah ofJudah and dived
headlong into diplomatic frenzy. Doves carrying messages between
Jezreel, Tyre, and Sidon died of exhaustion by the dozens. Assyria
had to be slopped, coide qu£ come. If a coalition would not do any
longer, let there be a 'United Kingdom' of Phoenicia, Israel and
Aram. Let there be a supreme king as long as local and regional
autonomy, inherited rights and ancestral customs could be pre-
sClved. Joram detested Hazael's ruthlessness, but he started to ap-
preciate his opponent's intelligence. Without Hazael onc could
not do what had to be done, so he was to do it with Hazael. By his
Sidon ian diplomatic channels, Joram offered Hazael his submis-
sion as long as there would be no interference in Israel's internal
affairs. Hazael demanded all the Galilee and most of Israelite
Transjordan, half of Joram 's kingdom, in addition. Joram agreed
even to that, signed lhe peace treaty, the vassal treaty, ceded
Galilee and Gilead, and commandedJehu tojoin immediately the
Aramaean army under the command of Hazael in order lo march
against the Assyrians.
The agreement between Joram and Hazael came to Jehu as a
stunning blow. He would never submil to the command of some-
one who had been his colleague and, as he saw il, his ally in
conspiracy. His spiritual advisor and financial supporter Elisha
exploded in anger at the thought of ceding Gilead and Galilee
(remember that the YHwH-A1one Movement also was an Israel-First
Movement). Being a holy man, Elisha immediately designated
Jehu king of Israel who, in turn, had Hazael's officers who com-
municated the Joram-Hazael treaty to him hanged, drawn and
quartered for laise-majeste. Having thus made his point to Hazael,
he summoned the Israelite army and rushed to Jezreel.
Now il was a difficult thing to rush from Ramot Gilead to Jezreel
in 841 BeE. The road from Gilead to the Jordan valley had been
severely damaged by the lasl winter's rains and the funds desig-
nated for its maintenance had to be used for the mobilization of
the army against Hazael. The chariots had to be taken apart, trans-
ported on donkeys' backs, and reassembled afler the crossing of
the Jordan. News of interest for the stock market always ll'avelled
much faster than rebel armies, so Joram, six hours afler Jehu's
departure from Ramot Gilead, knew that everything was lost, at

least for the next three hundred years to come.
joram took Shulamit, jezebel, Avital, his sons, the Phoenician
colony from Samaria, the priests of Samaria. BeLhei and Dan, the
libraries and archives and went to Sidon in exile. The Sidonians,
of course. would have appreciated a ruling Kingjoram much more
than an exiled ci-devant King joram within their city walls, a pres-
ence that might cause diplomatic complications with whomever
would be the next king of Israel. On the other hand,joram came
with a large amount of money and an entourage of highly skilled
and educated people. The Sidonians finally accepted joram as a
co-citizen and as a shareholder of the West Mediterranaean Com-
pany6 on the condition that he adopt a bourgeois name. joram
settled for 'Shlomo Qohelet'. He lived happily (insofar as he
could forget what was happening in his ancient kingdom by then)
for another 40 years. The Israelite expatriates used to gather three
evenings a week in his residence, one evening with wine and
Shulamit, one evening with wine and without Shulamit, and onc
evening without wine. joram and his friends were kind enough to
hand down the songs, which were sung in the presence of
Shulamit,7 and the philosophical reflections. which were reflected
in the absence of Shulamit,tl down to us. Considering the history
of his time and the caneer of Hazael, Joram rewrOte the few notes
he had found concerning the early kings of Israel and JlIdah com-
pletely. His story ends with the words 'Thus the royal power was
firmly established in the hands of Solomon', a work which became
a great literal)' success on the book market, but few readers have
realised that it is a stOl)' about the illusion of power and the im-
possibility of stability in a world created by the power drunk and
power addicted. A nephew of Joram who was engaged in the Ara-
bian trade, a branch of enterprise just opened, wrote a long poem
about the question of whether the deity could be equally almighty
and just. His poem also was a great literary success, but again few
readers have realised thatjoram's nephew actually solved the prob-
6 Cf. Qoh. 11:1.

7 As can be deduced from Song 6:12; 7:1.
8 Cf.. except for the dating, C. Uehlingcr, 'Qohelet im Horizont mcsopota-
1I1ischer, 1e\'antinischer und agyptischcr Wcishcitsliteratllr del' persischen lind
Ilclk"b~bdl';'" Zeit', in L. Schwicnho'-M-Schonbcrgcl" (cd.), Vas O"ch Koh"le/;
S/udien .t"r Slnlktur, Gl!5chichte, ReuflliOlI tOld Theologie (Berlin: de CrllYlcr. 1997).
pp. 155-247.
66 ERNST AXEL KNAUF
lem. 9 In 753 BeE, two of Joram's grandchildren, Ram'el ('Romyl'

in Phoenician) and Jojarem ('Remy' for his friends), founded a
Sidon ian colony on the Tiber which was soon taken over by the
natives of the area who proved very capable in the acquisition of
knowledge, wealth, and power.
Ahaziah was not so happy. He never felt at ease in the large cities
of the North, and never did comprehend the rules of traffic
(which, of course, were not applied at Jerusalem because, in the
South, there was no traffic for hundred more years to come). This,
within the frenzy of a premature departure, was his undoing.
When his chariot went into Main Street from Palace Alley, he dis--
regarded another chariot's right of way, and Ahaziah and his
driver were killed in the accident.
Now for Jehu and his troop. They endured the forced march
from Gilead via the Jordan valley to Jezreel only by indulging in
fantasies of what they would do withJoram,Jezebel and the others,
once they had them (the band was greatly dimished after drink-
ing from the Jordan valley water at Zarethan). When Jehu came
to jezreei, the place was empty except for the dead bodies of
Ahaziah and his driver. The latter was exhibited to the public as
.Ioram, andJezebel was executed in effigy. Everybody left atJezreei
who could read and write was regarded as a royal prince and
massacred by the mob. At Samaria, because the priests were gone,
the temple was filled with Israelite wine makers, pub owners and
disc jockeys and then burned to the ground. Because there ex-
isted no more 'Joram' in the civil records anywhere in the world,
Jehu could claim that he had killedJoram (as he wished he had)
and go uncontested.
Meanwhile, the Assyrian army marched unopposed to the walls
of Damascus, behind which Hazael had retreated, being too weak
to face the Assyrians in the open without an ally. The Assyrians
had learned, since 853, how to fire a bow, but the Corps of Royal
Assyrian Engineers had not yet been created, so the Assyrians dev-
astated the gardens and the fields surrounding Damascus. The
Assyrian general Fortinbras was despatched against Jehu, who was
only keen to fight an enemy whom he regarded as inferior, soJehu
submitted to Fortinbras and kissed his feet (which were never
washed). At Damascus, after three weeks of looting, devastating
9 O. Keel is one of the few; cr. his Jahwp.; Enlgeglll.Hlg an fjab (Goltingen:
Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1978).
and destroying, the Assyrians became tired and went home. This
was exactly what Hazae1 had expected. Hazae1 led his army out
again, took possession of Galilee, devastated Gilead in retaliation
for the messengers tortured by Jehu, and dedart:u himsc::lf su-
preme king from the brook of Egypt to the Euphrates. Now it is
true that Hazael already had legally and peacefully received the
Galilee fromJoram. Being, however, of low descent, Hazael could
neither give gifts nor receive gifts, so he declared the Galilee his
conquest. DespisingJehu (he knew him well), he never recognized
him as king, and, since a king can only be killed by another king,
never by a rebellious subordinate, Hazael was forced to claim the
killing of Joram and Ahaziah for himself.
Having thus sorted fact from fiction, it is now possible to ask
the 'what iP.' question: what ifJehu had been half as stupid as he
was, if he had joined Hazael fighting the Assyrians, if they were
decisively defeated, if there were never an Assyrian empire and,
in consequence, no deuteronomism, no destruction of the first
temple, no exile, no first and no second Jewish war?
First, being defeated decisively, the Assyrian would-be empire
vanished quickly. Being dependent on conquest, expansion, and
a continous influx of booty and tribute, one setback was enough
to tear apart the economical basis of the Assyrian army which, in
brief, was the entire state and its society. After less than a decade,
the once mighty city of Assur had become a haunt of owls and
vipers, and the dreaded name of 'Assyria' was forgotten except
in the lore, where it figured as a paradigm of self-defeating hu-
bris. The very idea of imperialism and militarism was discredited
to an extent that humankind was henceforth spared these temp-
tations.
In this alternate world, thel"e nevertheless arose some sort of
Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Judaism is not to be called by
this name, though, for Samaritans and Jews never split, so the Is-
raelites are just Israelites and nobody contested the 'false Israels'
in the name of some 'true Israel'. There is also a Hebrew Bible,
consisting of the Torah 10 (minus Deuteronomy and the deutero-
nomistic layers) and the Ketuvim (minus Daniel and Esther).
There are no Prophets as part of Scripture. So Arabian mono-
III Even if most of the ami..detHeronomislic (i.e .. priestly) material in the Torah
is posl-demeronomislic, some chapters can be identified as pre-dcuteronomislic;

e.g., Gen. I, 10, and 36.
68 ERNST AXEL KNAUF
theism, or [slam, had to do without Mohammed and without the

concept of 'Holy War', and it resembles to a certain degree the
Baha'i religion. Christianity is also known under another name,
because the Former and Later Prophets (whence the term
'Messias-ChriS10S' originated) do not exist. But because the in-
carnation was decreed by the Holy Trinity before all lime, the Son
of Cod was born, killed and resurrected at the appointed time. In
the absence of the deutcronomistic tradition, the violent solution
of the Hellenistic crisis in the second century BeE never took place
(a crisis there would have been, and a lot of high ranking literary
production, 100), so AriS10buius could not have conquered Gali-
lee in 103 BeE, and Jesus was born an lturaean (still being a de-
scendant of Abraham, though). The Church of the Nativity stands
at Capernaum, and the Holy Sepulchre at Tiberias, and the inter-
preters of the Christian Bible have started, some tweIHY years ago,
to reflect the Anti-Arabism of the gospel.
Because Joram's insight that power is an illusion became com-
mon knowledge from the second century CE onwards, the Bishop
of Rome never aspired to total control of the Christian church.
As a consequence, there never was a Reformation, though there
still was a renaissance of Augustinian theology led, among others,
by a monk teaching at Wittenberg University in the the first half
of the sixteenth century. Geneva is stilJ ruled by its bishop. In poli-
tics, there never was an attempt to establish monarchic absolut-
ism, so there never arose the need for revolution which, in the
absence of deuteronomistic theology, lacked any backing from
religious authority. Charles I died with his head firmly connected
to the rest of his body, and France is still ruled by the Bourbons
(or rather, the descendants of Marie-AIHoineue). Needless to say,
the concept of 'nation' is meaningless in this world.
In the Near East, there still exists the 'United Kingdom of
Phoenicia, Israel and Aram' (UKoPIA). Within the framework
designed by Joram-as much central authority as absolutely nec-
essary, as much local autonomy as possible-each community is
guaranteed the use of its native language and the preservation of
its inherited religion. Odginally, the preservation of local culture
was handled rather strictly in order to prevent another 'YHWH-
Alone Movement', but, from the fifteenth century onward, com-
munities of expatriates-Israelites at Sidon, still a thriving com-
munity today, or Aramaeans at Jerusalem-gained permission to
set up chapels for their respective cults. The official languages of
UKoPIA are Hebrew, Aramaic and Arabic, that is, their written
standard forms. The spoken languages lOok the form of dialects,
which are mutually as intelligible as the German of a Bavarian to
the German of a Pommcranian, that is, not at all, UKoPlA was
never ever conquered-empires knocking at UKoPlA's doors were
invited to exercise some sort of suzerainity, like the Persians,
AJexander, Rome. The Muslim armies never came (some regions
in the south and east became Arabic, though, by demographic
change), and the Mongols were beaten off in 1260 CEo Today,
UKoPlA is an independent vassal of the 'Holy Roman Empire',ll
very much like the 'United Kingdom of England, Wales, Scotland,
Ireland, Nova Scotia and New England' (there is no USA, because
revolution was never invented). Kings (and queens) are still the
heads of state, and government officials are usually recruited from
the ranks of the knights. But all decisions are discussed and fi-
nally made on the lowest local level possible, which ensures that
in affairs of daily life, everybody has his or her say. The world is
fairly democratic, although the word 'democracy' (like 'nation')
has never been mentioned and would be incomprehensible to the
inhabitants of this alternative world. The concepts of 'to rule' or
'to govern' are meaningless, as everybody knows thal all we can
accomplish is somehow to muddle through the many and diffi-
cult obstacles, aporias, minor and major catastrophes of our per-
sonal and communal daily life. People of the 'alternative world'
live much happier than the inhabitants of the present world, but
because they do not know what they had been spared, they do not
feel happier.
ABSTRACT
Was there a chance, bctwccn 853 and 841 Ilet:, to prc\'cnt the rise of Assyria
to supreme powcr in the Near East, and thus the invention of imperialism as a
political conccpt? Which impcrfections in human behaviour in gcneral, or which
flaws in the chanlclers of the protagonists specifically, must h;l\'c been absent to
ensure a more f;wourable coursc of CVCllts? No deuteronornisrn without Assyria:
thus the present essay tries to forecast how the world of today would look if this
way of thoughl had ncvcr ariscn.
11 Which comprises, from East 10 \Vcst, the Kingdoms of Polonia, Hungary,

Bohemia, Saxony, l3avalia, Hanover, Danemark, the United Netherlands, Italy,
the Two Sicilies, Francc, Navarrc, Aragon, Castile, and Portugal, in addition to a
number of principalities (like Lorraine, Normandy, and Toulouse) and free cil-
ies 1ik~ 1-lamlJurg, Colognc, ZUl idl, 130\:;0.:1 <lilt.! 13~lllC. Tho; ulli...i,,1 l,,"guage or
the imperial administration is Latin (not that thc local authorities leave much to
be impel-ially administered).
ISRAEL, ASSYRIAN HEGEMONY,
AND SOME CONSIDERATIONS ABOUT VIRTUAL
ISRAELITE HISTORY
EHUD BEN ZVI

Unium;ty oj Alberta
Introduction
The aim of this counterfaClual study is to contribute to a beller
understanding of Israelite history and the forces that shaped it.
The seemingly naive question of "what if' in the context of his--
Lorical studies may in fact be a helpful heuristic device. What if
some historical event that could have happened differently would
have? What if one interchanges a "historical fact" with what was a
possible fact, but ended up being a "counterfact''?
To begin with, within this context, the "what if' question really
implies something like "would anything of historical significance
be different beyond the basic event being discussed if so and so
had happened" and, accordingly, begs the question of what is
meant by "anything of historical significance" and for whom. Sec-
ond, it assumes an openness to the possibility that the mentioned
event had implications for the future, or, in other words, that it
may have selved as a forking point at least on the short run, or,
in more precise words, an openness to the idea that the prob-
ability of subsequent historical events is affected by the end result
of the particular event under discussion. Third, and following the
second point, it raises the issue of "short" vis a
vis "long"-run
analysis, and, implicitly, the underlying issue of the interplay of
"structures" and "human agency" in historical causation, whether
deterministic or simply probabilistic. Fourth, it undermines the
narrative determinism and the teleological stories that are most
often embedded, consciously or unconsciously, in the historiogra-
phy written by those who know well what was the "fact" and what
was the "counterfact," at least in so far as it concerns the discussed
event. By doing so it opens a possibility for better understanding
of the perspective of the participants in the events, who surely did
not know in advance what the historical "fact" would be. l
1 On these issues see the excellent introductory chapter by N. Ferguson in

CONSIDERATIONS ABOUT VIRTUAL ISRAELITE HISTORY 71
To be sure, for this analysis to be fmitful U't'O conditions must

be fulfilled: (a) the "fact" should be known with much certainty,
and so at least the main contours of the following events; (b) the
counterfaet should be one that had a good chance of becoming
the "fact," even if it did not. If (a) does not hold true, then the
analysis turns into an exercise in writing a virtual SlOl)' of a vir-
tual story, or to be more precise a literary exercise that involves a
change in the plot and characterization of personages in a stOI)'
whose historical rcferentiality is questionable. Of course, there is
nothing wrong with this type of work, but it will not contribute a
better understanding of Israelite histol)' and the forces that shaped
it, and that is the goal of this paper. If (b) does not hold true,
then one is invited to enter into the realm of fictional narrative,
and perhaps even of a kind of (hard?) science fiction, in which
the past plays the role of the fUtUI"C. 2 In any event, if (b) does not
hold true, one loses the historical cues and anchors. and without
them the discussion will surely not contribute to belter understand-
ing of Israelite history and the forces that shaped it.
The Fact
Taking into account the previous considerations, and given the
present controversies regarding the histol)' of monarchic Israel, I
choose a "fact" that (a) is 110t in dispute at all and whose histori-
cal setting and consequences are in the main agreed by all, and
(b) whose "counterfact" was a possibility that was evaluated and
carried out in Israel for some time before the "fact," and was ac-
tually adopted as policy in some of the countries surrounding Is-
rael.
There is no dispute that at some poi III between 736 and 735/4
BeE, the previous model governing the foreign policy of Israel
(i.e., the Northern Kingdom of Israel) towards Assyria was rejected
and replaced with one based on, or dearly leading to, confronta-
tion. The older model involved Israel's "voluntary" acceptance of
its status as a tributary vassal-state of Assyria. It was adopted by
king Menahem (ca. 748-38 BCE) and likely by his son Pckahiah
N. Ferguson (cd.). Virtual Historr Alternatives and Coullterfactuals (London:

Papermac, 1991:1), pr. 1-90.
! Or ir done in less than good taste and historical knowledge, plain and sim-
ply into the domain or nully chal.~
M
72 EHUD BEN ZVI
(ca. 738-36 BCE).' The new foreign policy involved confrontation

with Assyria and alignment with Rezin, a partnership that is often
referred to as the Syro-Israelite coalition.
It is to be stressed that there is no dispute among historians
about the historicity of this change in policy towards Tiglath-pileser
III (hereafter, TP Ill), nor about the results that followed this
change in the orientation of Israelite foreign policy. Both neo-
Assyrian and biblical sources clearly characterize Menahem as a
tributary vassal-king. 4 Several neo-Assyrian sources aboutlhe cam-
paigns ofTP III to the West from 734-732 BCE, the archaeological
data from northern Israel, and the books of Kings and Chronicles
all point to the military (and political) confrolllation between TP
III and Israel, as well as to the main results of such confrontation.!>
The mentioned change in Israel's foreign policy was most likely
related to the coup against and murder of Pekahiah by Pekah,
which took place in 736 BeE. The cumulative weight of the follow-
ing points supports such a position:
(a) The lurn around in foreign policy and the violent change
of dynasties are temporally related;
, For chronologies of the peliod, see, for instance, G. Galil, The Chronology of
tM Kings of Israel and Judah (Studies in the History and Culture of the Ancient
Near East, 9; Brill: Leiden, 1996). pp. 63-70, 81-82; N. Na'aman, "HislOrical and
Chronological Notes on the Kingdoms of Israel and Judah in the Eighth Century
B.C.,fl vr 36 (1996), pp. 71-92 (74-82, 92); J. Hayes and P.K. Hooker, A New
Chronolog:)'for tile Kings of Israel andJudah and Its Implications for Dibfical History and
LiUrature (Atlanta:John Knox Press, 1988); GJ-Jones, I and 2 Kings (NCB, Grand
Rapids: Eerdmans, 1984), pp. 9-28; H. Tadmor, ~The Chronology of the First
Temple Period: A Presentation and Evaluation of the Sources,fl in J.A. Soggin, A
History of Israel: From the Beginnings to lhe Dar Kochba Revolt AD 135 (London: SCM
Press, 1985), pp. 368-83.
• See Ann. 13· line 10, and Stele III A, line 5 (H. Tadmor, The hucriP/ions of
Tiglath Pikser III King of Assyria. Critical EditiQ/l, witllIntroductiOlu, Translations and
Commentary Ucrusalem: Magnes Press, 1994], pp, 68-69 and 106-07), the discus-
sions in TadmOI', Inscrilltions, pp. 265-68 and 274-76; B, Becking, The Fall of
Samaria. An Historical and ArcJweowgical Study (SllIdies in the History of the An-
cient Near East 2; Brill: Leiden, 1992), I'p. 3-4; L. Levine, Two Nf!t)-Ass)'rian Stelae
[rom Iran (Royal Ontario Musellm: Toronto, 1972), col. 11, 1. 5; I'p. 18-19. As for
biblical sources, see 2 Kgs 15:19-20.
~ See Ann. 18:3'-7' and 24:3'-11'; Slimm. 4:15-19, Summ. 9:r9 and Slimm.
13: 17-18 (Tadmor, hucriptions, pp. 81-83, 140-41, 188-89, 202-3), the general dis-
cussion in Tadmor, Inscriptions, pp. 279-82. See also N. Na'aman, ~Tiglath-pileser
Ill's Campaigns against Tyre and Israel {734-32 B.C.E.),fl TA 22 (1995), pp. 268-
78; Z, Gal, TIle Lower Galilee during tile frOlI Age (ASOR, Dissertation Series, 8;
Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1992), Pl'. 108-109. Cf. 2 Kgs 15:29; I ebron. 5:6,
26.
(b) Menahem was clearly identified with one policy, Pekah

with the other;
(c) the Syro-Israelite coalition, and the coup d' elat itself may
be seen in the light of the model of forced panicipation
in alliances against a suzerain overlord;6
(d) since, within this model, Rezin will be the one who
forced the alliance, it is worth stressing that all the docu-
ments give him a hegemonic role over Pekah;7
(e) Pekah executed his coup d'itat with the help of fifty
Gileadites (2 Kgs 15:25); significantly the Gilead was prob-
ably under Aramean control at that time. 8
The l-esults of the change of policy were clear. Israel suffered

much destruction, deportation, and the loss of the nonhem part
of the kingdom,9 the loss of any hope of gaining conu'ol over the
area of Gilead-which was likely taken earlier by Aram and be-
came now Assyrian territory-as well as the loss of the coastal area.
6 Of. Hezekiah's aClions against I'adi, king of Ekron, and his likely involve-
mellt in the palace coup that brought Sidqa to the throne of Ashkclon, see 011'
col. II, lines 60-72. 73-77. col. III, lines 14-15 (D.O. Luckenbill, The Annals of
Sennaclw1h [Chicago: The University of Chicago aden tal Institute Publications,
1924], ml. 2, pp. 30-32). See N. Na'aman, MForced Participation in Alliances in
the Course of the Assyrian Campaigns to the West,~ in M. Cogan and I. Eph'al
(eds.), Ah AS~'ria ... SluditS in Assyrian History and Ancirnt Ntar t:asttnl Hisllmogra-
phy Prt-senled 10 Hayim Tadmor (Scripta Hierosolymitalla, 33: Jerusalem: Magnes
Press, 1991), pp. 80-98.
1 See Becking, Fall of Samaria, pp. 6-7.
, N. Na'aman, MRezin of Damascus and the Land ofGilead,~ WPV III (1995),
pp. 105-17. Other scholars have suggested that the entire northern area or Israel
was in Aramcan hands and that TP III, in fact. conquered these territories from
Aram. Sec, for instance, S.A. Irvine, Isaiah, Ahaz, and the Sym-EI'hraimile Crisis
(SBLOS. 123; Allanta: Scholars Press), pp. 34-35, 39-40, 66-68; J.I-I. Hayes and
SA Irvine, Isaiah, the Eigh/h Om/Ill)' Prophel (Nashville: Abingdon, 1987), pp. 120-
21. On Rezin's ~Greater Syria,M see alsoJ.M, Miller andJ.H. Hayes, A History of
Ancient Imud andJll(lah (Philadelphia: Westminster Press. 1986), pp. 323-26, 332.
cr. Na'arnan's objections in Na'aman, MRezin,~ p. 114 and cr. Tadmor, Inscriptions,
p. 280.
9 See Tadmor, Inscriptio"s, pp. 280-81, and earlier, Tadmor, ~The Conquest of
Galilee by Tiglalh-pilcscr Ill, King of Assyria,W in H. Hirshberg (cd.), Ailihe umd
ofNafttlfi (Jerusalem: Ismc1 ExplorationJollrnal. 1967), pp, 62-67 (Heb.); Gal, The
Iflwer Galilee, PI" 108-109; Becking, Fall of Samaria, pp. 15-19; Na 'aman, ~Tiglath
pileser Ill's Campaigns;M B. Oded, Mass Deportations and Deportees in Ille Nro-Ass)'ria71
Empire (Wiesbaden: Or. Ludwig Reichcrt Verlag, 1979). It is worth mentioning
that the severity 01 the demogl<lphlC blow to the 1..o,,·er Galilee at that time left
it relatively depopulated ror a long timc, Sec also 2 Kgs 15:29 and cr. Na'arnan,
"Rezin,M esp. pp. 108-109 and bibliography.
74 EHUO BEN ZVI
In fact, Israel became a mini-kingdom around Samaria. 1o This

kingdom was surrounded by Assyrian provinces, except in the
south, where it bordered with the neo-Assyrian vassal-state of
Judah. The kingdom was unstable-internally and externally-and
disappeared forever only twelve years later. Large scale deporta-
tions from and to the tenitol)' followed.
The Counterfact
The counterfaci is, of course, the continuation of the Israelite
policy of submission to TP III, of alignment with Assyria, and of
tributary vassaldom. Was the dramatic change in the orientation
afthe Israelite foreign policy inevitable at that time? Or, to present
the issue in a positive way, was there a real chance for the alter-
native position. namely the continuation of the previous foreign
policies during the defining years, 736-34? The evidence strongly
suggests that there was a significant chance for this counterfactual
alternative.
To begin with, the change was closely related to the success of
Pekah's coup against Pekahiah, the king. The only source of in-
formation about this coup (2 Kgs 15:25) strongly suggesL<; that the
main reason for its success was that the king was murdered as a
result of a surprise attack in the royal palace that was led by an
officer of the king, perhaps his adjutant, Pekah." Whereas the text
characterizes Pekah as an insider, the fifty Gileadites who consti-
tuted his assault troop are probably characterized as "outsiders"
to the palace. If the historicity of the text is to be trusted, then
Pekah relied-at least in the main-neither on insiders of the
royal palace (e.g., the royal guard, officers or the like) nor the
people of the capital, nor on the army, but on a small band of
10 It scems that TP III did nOl demote Pekah, despilc his rebellion, because
he surrendered, lhough his aaion was 1O0 late to save Ismel from the disasters
mentioned above. Pekah was deposed by Hoshea, likely soon aflcr. In any case,
in 731 ReE, Hoshea paid tribule to TP III. A fcw years later, however, he rebelled.
On Hoshea's successful coup against Pekah and his paying of lhe uibute, see
Summ. 4: 17'-18', 9;rIo-ll and 13: 18' (Tadmor, Inscripti01l$, pp.14041, 188-89, and
202-3). See also Na'aman, "Historical and Chronological Notes,~ pp. 72-74:
Na'arnan, MTiglath.pileser Ill's Campaigns,fl pp. 274-75, and cf. Tadmor, Inscrip-
ti01l$, pp. 277-78; Seeking, Fall of Imul, p. 19 and bibliogmphy. See 2 Kgs 15:30
for lhe biblical reference to Hoshea's coup.
II See 2 Kgs 15:25. Pekah was Pekahiah's o·~. On w-~ see B.A. Mastin, ~Was
the salis Ihc Third Man in the ChariOl?,~ SVf 30 (1979), pp. 125-54.
armed people who came from a district under Aramean domina-

tion. None of this suggests the oven....helming support that would
have made the success of his coup almost inevitable. 12 In any
event, even if the details ot the description in the book of Kings,
which is the only available source, are not fully trusted, it is obvi-
ous there is no guaranteed success in coups based on an attempt
of assassination against the ruler in the ruler's palace. One may
think of many scenarios in which-and reasons why-this coup
may fail. History shows many more failed than successful palace
coups and assassination anempts against rulers, though the latter
tend to receive more attention, for obvious reasons.
To be sure, one may claim that, allhough Pekah could have
failed, eventually Rezin's strong-arm policies would have forced
Pekahiah to join him in his anti-Assyrian coalition or would have
replaced him on the throne of Israel with another member of the
Israelite elite more sympathetic to his cause. IS According to this
position, then in any event, even if Pekah had failed and lost his
life in his palace attack, Israel had ended up participating in the
"$yro-Israelite," anti-Assyrian coalition, and being defeated by TP
Ill.
There is little doubt that Rezin would have continued his efforts
to bring Israel into his coalition, and that he would have tried to
replace the king of Israel if Pekah had failed. However, there is
certainly no reason to assume that success was the only possible
or even likely outcome of his efforts. Not only would suspected
pro-Rezin Israelites have been chased down after ule failed attempt
of assassination, and likely less able to influence Israelite politics
in the months following the attack, but the fact remains that Rezin
and Pekah together failed to topple Ahaz, the king ofJudah, who
decided not to join Rezin's coalition. H Significantly, Judah was a
l~ ~Ioreo\"er, if Na'aman is COlTeCI in his reconSU'union of the original text

behind the present and problematic ;r.,~;r r;~1 :::!1::n~ 1'1~ of2 Kgs 15;25, thell there
was "fierce battle in the palace,~ despite the surprise attack. See Na'aman, -Rezin,~
pp. 107-108. To be sure, the position that a king who submits to Assyria must be
so unpopular because of the economic price of tdbute on the country and that
he will inevitable fall to conspirators docs nOt deserve much allention, because
many kings or vassal states remained in their thrones (including Mcnahcm. Ahaz,
and Manasseh).
l'
10
Sec above.
2 Kgs 15:37; 16:5; Isa. 7:1-6. (Even if one were to deny any historicily to
these biblical references, the faCI would remain that there was a strong tendency
76 EHUD BEN ZVI
kingdom weaker than Israel from a military, economic, and de·

mographic point of view. I" Although it did not border with Rezin's
Aram, it bordered with Pekah's (i.e., Rezin's ally) Israel.
In fact, the Ahaz model provides a good alternative to what
could have happened if Pekahiah had survived Pekah's coup. Even
if, as is likely, the balance of power bc{\vcen Aram and Israel at
that time was as lopsided as the one that existed during the days
of king Hazael of Aram, in the second half of the ninth century,
Judah vis a vis both Aram and Israel was probably not stronger
than [grae! vis a vis Aram. If this is so, the most likely result would
have been that Rezin attacked and defeated Israel in battle, that
the Galilee would have been conquered and so the coasLaI area,
and probably that Rezin would have placed Samaria under siege,
but it is hard to believe that Samaria itself would have been con-
quered. 16 It is to be anticipated also that the king of Israel would
have called for the help of his suzerain king, TP 111, who, in any
case, would have atLacked Rezin and his anti-Assyrian coalition,
even without Israel's request (cf. Ahaz's request for help under
similar conditions)," TP Ill, of course, would have defeated Rezin
and "saved" Israel. 18 Significantly. this "counterfactual" deed of TP
III is comparable not only to his "factual" deed regarding Ahaz at
the same time. but to a large extent also to those of Adad-nirari
III several decades earlier, during the previous period of Aramean
hegemony,l9
towards forcing neighboring nations illlO alliances, that Rezin was the mililary
and political leader of the area, and thai Ahaz submined LO Assyria ralher than
confroming il.)
I~ In addilion, it is possible that Ahaz was reccntly elevated 10 the crown, see
Na'aman, ~Rezin,~ 1'.109, cr. Na'aman, ~HisLOrical and Chronological Notes,W PI'.
83, 89, 92; Jones, 1-2 Kings, p. 28, Times of transition were oflell times of weak-
ness in ancient ncar eastern monarchies.
16 Jerusalem was conquered neither in 734 DO; (by Rezin) nor e\'cu in 701
DCE (i.e., during Sennacherib's campaign), The conquest of a well-fortified city
demanded much resources and time, Samaria was e\'elllually conquered by the
Assyrian army, bUl also after a prolonged siege.
17 2 Kgs 16:7-9.
\8 There al·e many examples of Assyria illlerYening in favor of a vassal king
who was auacked because he was not willing to support an anti-Assyrian coalition
led of a neighboring Slate (e.g., Adad-nirari III sa\'ed Kummuh from Arpad, and
Israel from Aram, Sennachel·ib saved radi's throne from Hezekiah, and TP III
himself saved KushtaShpi, king of KUlIlmuh), See Na'aman, ~Forced Participations. w
Tv be SUle, "'lad wuul<.1 lIa\"O; l-'"i<.1 (UI litis help (t;f. 2 Kgs 16:7-9), "'Id the killg
of Israel most likely would have come to Damascus 10 offer his tribUle 10 the vic-
torious 1'1' III.
19 Adad-nirOiri 111 campaigned against Damascus (805-803, 796 OCt:) and ~sa\'edw
The Short-term Consequences 0/ the Countnftut: First Steps in

Counter/actual History
By the end of the previous section, I began to walk the first steps
in coumerfactual history, namely Pekahiah would have been at-
tacked by Rezin and asked for the help of TP III, and the latter,
by defeating Rezin, and his allies, would have "sa\'ed" Israel.
What other steps may one t.1.ke and still remain within the realm
of likely or very likely developments? It is likely that at least some
of the lands of the Assyrian vassal state that were conquered by
the anti-Assyrian leader during his rebellion would have been
,"etumed to the faithful vassal. 20 Thus, one may assume that the
northern part of the kingdom would not have been annexed to
Assyria, but returned to Israel. I>erhaps even by the hand of the
Israelites themselves, who, as the Aramean army would have re-
treated to defend the core areas of Aram, could have retaken the
territory. One may imagine also a situation in which even the
coastal area remained as an integral part of the Israelite territory,
albeit with strong Assyrian presence and control (cf. the arrange·
ments in Phoenicia and Philistia).21 Significantly, it seems that
Judah did not lose any territory because of its stand against the
S)'ro-Ephraimite coalition.
In any evem, Israel would have been spared deportations,2'./: the
large scale destruction brought by the Assyrian army (which was
Israel from the Aramean hegemony. He is probabl)' the -.sa\;or- melllioned in 2

Kgs 13:5.
:10 In fact. there are occasioll5 in which some faithful vass.1!s receh·e territory
taken from the unfaithful one. See, for instil nee, Scnnacherib·s arrangements
regardingJudah in the aftermath of his 701 BCE campaign: see OIP col. III, lines
31-34 (Luckenbill, The Annals, p. 33).
tl To be sure, clear hegemony and actual control of thc Eastern Mediterra-
nean coast, from Phoenicia in the Nonh to Philistia in the South was one of the
main stratcgic goals of TP III ill the Wcst. Yet the (Iucstion is whcther such a
control actually necessitated thc anncxation of the territory to Assyria. The situa-
Lion in Phoenicia and Philistia in Tr 111·s days, as well as in lhe days of his succes-
sors. points out thaI the answer to this question must be negalh·e. See M. [lat.
MPhoenician Overland Trade within the Mesopotamian Empires,~ in Cogan and
Eph·al (eds.), Ah AnJria, pp. 21-35 (pp. 23-29, esp. pp. 26-27). As for the Gilead,
perhal>:!i e\·cn it could have been reHlmed lO (counterfaclUal) Israel, but TP III
could have also considered its territory as part of Aram and, accordingly he could
ha\·e annexed it to Assrria, as an)' other part of Damascus' domain.
zt These deportations were a Mform of punishment for rebellion against
Assyrian rule~ and sen·e to liqUidate -rival powers and weakening centers of resis-
t.ance.~ See Oded, MlllS ~atio1U. pp. 41-45. Counterfactual Israel was. of course,
an ally of Assp;a.
78 EHUD BEN ZVI
larger than the one LO be expected from the Arameans armies;

cf. Judah in 734 and 701 BeE), and most likely would have re-
mained with a much larger terrilOry than post-732 Israel. The
reigning dynasty would have been strengthened, and the country
would have probably been more stable than post-732 actual (as
opposed to virtual) Israel. Moreover. at least the potential of eco-
nomic growth and settlement development-such as the one in
Judah in the last decades of the eighth century-would have been
possible in Israel too.
To return to the issues raised in the introduction, would any-
thing of historical significance be different beyond the basic
counterfact in this case? Needless to say, had these virtual events
been actual ones, they would have changed in numerous ways the
life of many Israelites who lived through them, who lost their lives,
who were deported from (and to) and the like. History as lived
by them would have been drastically different.
Can the same be said of Israelite history and of the historical
data as commonly understood by late twentieth-eentUl)' historians?
To answer this question, let us assume, for the sake of the argu~
ment, a theoretical framework that strongly minimizes the histori-
cal change that any counterfactual event may cause to history, and
that claims a priori that histol)' must almost immediately return to
"iLS factual course." Significantly, even within this framework, some
differences between the factual and countelfactual history of Israel
beyond the event iLSelf must be allowed. For one, within this
counterfactual historical frame, it is difficult to assume that the so-
called "Syro-Ephraimite" war againstJudah would have happened,
because there would be no "Syro-Ephraimite" coalition. In fact, it
is most likely that under such (counterfactual) circumstances there
would have been an anti·Rezin coalition between the kings ofJudah
and Israel. Rezin could have still invaded Judah and it is possible
that he could have tried to appoint a client king over Judah, in-
stead of Ahaz. But if he did not succeed with Pekah's support,
there is no reason to assume that he would succeed with
Pekahiah's opposition.
In addition, scholars of the Hebrew Bible would immediately
notice that even \vithin this minimal change framework, and even
if the introduction of the counterfact would have changed abso-
lutely nothing in the worldview and the ideologies of those who
wrote the books of Kings, and Isaiah-and Chronicles-some
pericopes and verses (e.g., Isa. 7:1-9; 2 Kgs 15:25-32) would have
been written differently if the counterfact had been the fact. More-
over. additional verses or passages could have been written, and
some changes in, or additions to, the characterization of biblical
personages could havl:: takell piau::. FOI instancl::, Pekahiah could
have been characterized negatively because of his "bribing" of TP
Ill, and his voluntal}' submission to Assyria,2~ or Ahaz would have
added LO his reported sins that of an alliance with a sinful king of
Israel.2~
To be sure. it may be claimed that these changes are minimal,
and, in fact, only support a case for a deterministic hisLOI}' of Is-
rael, or for deterministic histol}' in general. But a framework built
around the assumption that hislOI}' must immediately I-eturn to "its
factual course," does not seem to be the most "realistic" scenario.
This is so because of the differences between the factual and
counterfactual circumstances in Israel in the aftermath of the 734-
32 crisis. Given the magnitude of the differences, it is hard to
assume that they would have contributed nothing to the relative
likelihood that either of the alternative paths that stood before the
leadership in Samaria (probably. within this counterfactual hisLOry,
still Pekahiah and his court) would have been adopted as policy
in following years, and perhaps decades.
It is wortJl noting in this regard that if one accepts a priori that
history must return to "its factual course" immediately, and, ac-
cordingly. that change must be as minimal as possible, then one
cannot claim that "the sludy has shown" change lO be minimal,
and, accordingly. has provided support for a more deterministic
histol}' of Israel, wilhout falling inLO the trap of circular thinking.
But would hiSlorical change likely be relatively minimal even if
such an a priori assumption is not broughl into consideration? To
answer that question, one must venture additional sleps in
counterfactual history.
2~ Cf. N. Na'aman, 'The Deuteronomist and Vo[ulnary Scn·itude to Foreign

Powers,~ jSOT 65 (1995), pp. 37-53.
2. Biblical theologians, and those interested in the living f<lith of Jewish and
Christian communities in general may wish to address the issuc of the dear con-
tingcncy of the "dh<ine word~ that is mised here. This issue is, of coursc, beyond
the scope and intent of this paper.
80 EHUD BEN ZVI
Further Steps in Counterfactual flistory

Much caution is needed when treading additional steps into "vir-
tual history," because the further our "simulation" of history moves
from its originating point. namely the coumerfaClual event, the less
probable are its proposed reconstructions. Yet the issue is whether
the temporal gap between the originating event in the actual his-
lOry and a turning or bifurcation point in that history is narrow
enough to allow a counterfactual history to make at least reason-
able claims about the necessity or likelihood of such a turning
point in the counterfactual history.
In the present case, the turning point in the actual hislory is the
transformation of Samaria into an Assyrian province in 720 BeE,
along with all the political, economic, and demographic changes
that followed this process. Again, and leaving aside controversies
about the precise series of events in the 725-720 period,25 the ex-
ample is well chosen because there is unanimity about the basic
facts, namely the end of the kingdom of Israel as a polity, the cre-
ation of an Assyrian province, the related deportations from and
to that territory, and the like.
The question is whether (a) the counterfactual kingdom of Is-
rael being studied here must have or was very likely to have shared
the same fate as its sibling "factual" Israel and become an Assyrian
province, and (b) how far in virtual time one must check the like-
lihood of such an outcome, keeping in mind that the farther in
time one moves, the less reliable the simulation becomes.
To begin with (b), had the temporal parameters of the discus-
sion been the little more than one hundred years of Assyrian he-
gemony in the area, the case would have been hopeless. Yet it
seems to take into account the following:
(a) The tendency to annex defeated countries in the West
that clearly characterized the policies of TP III and
Sargon II is not present in Sennacherib's regime, as
clearly attested by his (imposed) political arrangements
in the West, following his third campaign;
(b) no widespread, multi-state rebellion against Assyria oc-
curred in the West after 70] BCE, in fact, even when the
~ See, for insLallce, Calil, Chrollo{of!.Y, pp. 83-97; Beckinl(, Fall of Samaria;].A.
Hares andJK. Kuan, ~The Final Years of Samaria (730-20 B.C.),~ Bib 72 (1991),
pp. 153-81; N. Na'aman, ~The Historical Background to lhe Conquest of Samaria
(720 BC),~ Bib 70 (1990), pp. 206-25.
Assyrian empire was crumbling, there is no sign of any

revolt in the area;26 and
(c) when states such as Israel and Judah revolted against
A5syria, they did so as pan of large scale. regional coa·
litions.
This being so, the question is whether it is more likely that (a)
the counterfactual kingdom of Israel presented here would have
fundamentally changed its policies towards Assyria sometime be-
tv.een about 732 and 705 BCE, or. beuer, between 732 and 713-2
BCE. which was the last time in which a regional, multi-state anti-
Assyrian alliance was formed, so as firmly to join or even lead a
regional anti-Assyrian coalition than (b) Israel either kept or did
not deviate much or for long from these policies during this rela-
tively short period of twenty years (cf. Judah, Ammon, Moab,
Edom).
The starting point of this counterfactual history of Israel is a
stable and relatively prosperous Northern Kingdom whose domain
was much larger than the one of factual Israel in 732 BCE, ruled
by a dynasty whose policy has been to submit to Assyrian vassalage
and whose rule has been saved by Assyria, and with an anti-
Aramean policy. To be sure this point of departure does not
guarantee that there will be no drastic change in Israel's policies
during these two decades. One may mention, for instance, that (a)
the historical reliance of Israel on Assyria against Damascus (see
examples from the days of Adad-nirari III and TP Ill) would have
lost its lure once Damascus was turned into an A5syrian province
(732 BCE); (b) Egyptian rulers would have been actively promoting
anti·Assyrian policies; (c) regional leaders such as the Eloulaios
(Lule) of Tyre and king Ilu'bidi of Hamath could have incited
Israel to join them in their revolt against Assyria; (d) the death of
Assyrian kings was seen as occasions for m-uor revolts, and in this
period there were twO of them, TP III died in 727 BCE, Shalma-
nesser V in 722 BCE, and see previous references to both Eloulaios
and llu'bidi;17 and (e) the coastal area, if it were indeed at least
26 Josiah neither revolted ag:.linSI Assyria nor attempted to recreate a "Davidic

empire." On this matter and its implications. see E. Ben Zvi, "History and Pro-
phetic Texts," in M.P. Graham, \'1'.1'. Brown, and J.K. Kuan (eds.), His/ol)' and
11l1e'pretlition: Essoy ill HOl/ollr OfJohn H. HaJes (JSOTS, 173; Sherfield, Sheffield
Acadcmic Prcss, 1993), pp. 106-20 (113-20).
l'7 The dCillh or Sargon ill 705 liCE also led to re"olts, but Scnnacherib, his
82 EHUD BEN ZVI
formally part of lsraelite territory. could have caused seriolls

frictions between Assyria and Samaria.
However, the lack of guaramee mentioned above cannot be
constructed as meaning that such a change in political orientation
was a given or even more likely than any alternative that falls short
of resulting in the irrevocable lfansformation of Samaria into an
Assyrian province at some time bet\veen 732-705. 28 Point (a) would
be of more significance if Aram's threat had been the main and
only reason for preferring a SlalUS of tributary vassal state over
overt rebellion. The might of the Assyrian army, in addition to
the probable development of the area, can surely be considered
good I"casons for that policy too. Point (b) was a given at that time,
or at least until 712, as Yamani, the king of Ashdod learned the
hard way, when he escaped to Egypt only to be sent back to
Sargon, probably by Shabako. 29 In any event, there is no reason
to assume that Pekahiah (or his successor) must have succumbed
to the lure of Egyptian promises of help. Judah did not until after
the death of Sargon, and the same holds true for other countries.
In general, one may assume that the promise of Egyptian help may
have contributed to a decision to revolt against Assyria, but prob-
ably \vas never the main reason for revolting. Similarly, there is
no reason to assume that Pekahiah or his successor must have
joined the king of Tyre around 727 BeE, as Hoshea probably did.~
It is worth mentioning in this regard that all other cities in
Phoenicia did not join lhe Tyrian king:'l! Nor is it a given that
son and successor, was the one who had to respond to them and, accordingly,
they fall outside the parameters of the present discussion.
!lI It may be noticed that Ashdod, who was one of the latest Western states
u'Ulsformcd into all Assyrian province following Yamani's defeat at the hands of
Sargon in 712 liCE (see A.C. Lie, The Inscriptions of Sargrm /I King of AS.I)'ria, Part
I: The Annau [Paris: Paul Genthner, 1929], col II, lines 261-62, pp, 4041; cf. TUAT,
vol. I, p. 384), appears as a vassal state again, with a local king, in Sennacherib's
account of his Wcstern campaign, i.e., ill 701 liCE, see OIP col. II, line 54
(Luckenbill, Annau, p. 30).
29 On these issucs see H. Tadmor, ~J>hilistia under Assyrian Rulc," BA 29
(1966), PI'. 86-102 (94-95).
'lI Sec the account of Menander as reponed ill Jos. Ani. 9:283-87; H.].
~tlenstein, The History of T)'J"f:, from Ihe Beginning of Ihe Ser:011d Millen.ium l/C}: unlil
O,e Fall of the Nro-BafJ)'{01lian Empire Uerusalem: The Shocken Institute of Research
of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1973), Pl'. 225-26; Na'aman,
"Historical Backgro\lnd,~ PI" 213-14; C.W. Ahlstrom, 'l1Ie Hislory of Ancienl Pulesline
from Ihe Paleolithic (~m(){i 10 Alexander's Q:mquesl USOTSup, 146; Sheffield: Sheffield
Acadcmic Press, 1993), pp. 669·70.
)I III fact, the Phoenician cilies---other than Tyre-provided the navy neccs-
CONSIDERATIONS AI\OUT VIRTUAL ISRAELITE HISTORY 83
Israel must have joined Ilu'bidi's revolt, in which most of the

western panicipallls-inciuding Damascus-were already Assyrian
provinces, as opposed to coulllerfactual Israel. It is true that "fac-
lual" brad seems to have joined all the above-mentioned revolts,
but (a) its starting poi III was different from that of countelfactual
Israel, (b) its elite is differelll, and (c) given the histol)' of succes-
sive, failed, but not fatal confrontations bet\veen the factual
Samarian ruling elite and Assyria since 731 BCE,.'l2 one cannot
dismiss the mounting effect that each of them had on the next. In
other words, previous encounters with Assyria almost certainly
informed the decision-making process of, and attitude to, Assyria
within that process;3.'l to be sure, these circumstances do not ap-
ply to counterfactual Israel.
Further, the example of Judah may be helpful to evaluate the
chances that countelfactual Israel could have sUlvived these two
decades without becoming an Assyrian province. Judah, whose
actual political behavior closely matched that of counterfactual
Israel in 732 BCE, did not lead nor was it a main participalll in
any significant revolt against Assyria until after the death of Sargon,
Although it seems to have supported in some way the regional
revolt led by Yamani in 712 BCE, it probably hastened to pay trib-
ute to Sargon, as probably Moab, Edom, Ammon, Ekron, and
others did. Significantly, none of these countries were turned into
Assyrian provinces, neither at that time nor ever..'l4
In sum, il Sl.:"1nds to reason that countel-factuallsrael did not have
lO become an Assyrian province during the 732-712 BCE period,
or ever. In fact, whereas one surely cannOl dismiss that possibil-
sary 10 keep a maritime siege. See Elat, "Phoenician Ovcrland Trade," p, 24; cf.
Menander's account in Jos., Ani. 9:285.
'2 Sec, for instancc, Na'aman, "Historical Backgl'ound," Hayes and Kuan, "Fi-
nal Years."
"" COlwcrscly, these encoullters may have innuenced the Assyrian polic)' to-
wards the nonhern kingdom of Israel in its last years.
,. It is wonh stressing that "the geo-political arrangements imposed by Tiglalh-
pileser upon the other vassal states between Samal'ia and Egypt survived until the
end of the Assyrian dominion or the region" (Tadmor, Inscrip/iQl'lS, p, 282), Samal"ia
is rather the exception in the area. This cxception cannot be explained away by
simply pointing to systemic reasons such as its geogl-aphical position. Moreover,
Samaria cannot be compared in its potential as an advcrsary of Assyria with either
lhe northem or southern powers that sel the borders or this area and providcd
the main challenges to the Assyrian hegemon)', name I)' Damascus and Eg>1H.
s..,maria's particular rate seems, howevcr, closely related to its own policies towards
and intemctions Wilh Assyria rrom 734-720 BeE (sce above),
84 EHUD BEN ZVI
ity. comparisons with other countries and mainly with Judah, as

well as an analysis of actual rebellions that occurred, do not seem
to suggest that such an alternative was necessarily the most likely.
CounterfaClual Israel could have avoided the fate of factual Israel
and remained a vassal, tributary kingdom during the Assyrian
regime, and probably-again taking the example of Judah-it
could have seen a significant growth in settJements, trade, and its
elite, at least, could have prospered within the political and eco-
nomic domain of the Assyrian empire.
To be sure, such a counterfactual Israel would not have been
spared the great troubles that followed the collapse of the Assyrian
empire in Palestine. Most likely, as all its neighbors, it would have
remained loyal to Assyria during the last decades of its power in
the area, and would have supported Egypt, who acted as the suc-
cessor state in the area, most likely in consultation and agreement
with Assyria:'J.~ As such it would have fallen into the hands of the
Babylonians, and sooner or later-and probably sooner-it would
have ended up as a Babylonian province. After all, no vassal state
was left standing either east or west of the Jordan after a few de-
cades, and surely there is no reason to assume that counterfactual
Israel wOlllrl have heen an f'xrf'ptioll.
Some Concluding Thoughts

First, this work has pointed out that the critical study of counter-
factual histolY may serve as a powerful heuristic device for the
furthering of our understanding of the hisLOly of the period, the
structural forces that influence its shaping, tlle role of contingency,
and questions of agency.
To be sure, this work reaffirms the importance of regional, sys-
temic structures. For instance, no action by Pekah or Pekahiah
would have ever led to a really independent Israel. In fact, the
possibility of an independent Israel \vas nOt even discussed above,
because the data shows that such a development would have been
extremely unlikely, even in the ShOft run. This is due to the might
and political tendencies of Assyria at the time, but, significantly, it
is also consistent with a long-term, systemic trend towards large
interregional polities in tlle area, which led first to the nco-Assyrian
~ See N, Na'aman, ~The Kingdom of Judah under Josiah,~ TA 18 (1991),

pp. 3--71, and esp. p. 40; Bell Zvi, ~HjslOry and Prophetic Texts."
empil'e, and, in succession, to the neo-Babylonian and the Achae-

menid. This trend was so dominant for centlllies that even the fall
of mighty empires did not weaken it. One large empire was sim·
ply replaced by another large empire..'16 Systemic circumswnces do
have an extremely important impact on historical developments,
but, significantly, they may allow for, or are often compatible with,
more than an alternative, even in issues of large scope, such as
the character of a regional polity.
For instance, the pl-esent study has shown that it is reasonable
to assume that Israel could have ended up as either an Assyrian
province or a tributary vassal state during the Assyrian period-
at least there was the potential for both options within the neo-
Assyrian hegemonic system. Although such a potential seems to
have faded away during ule neo-Babylonian period, within the po-
litical system of lhe countries east and west of the Jordan, it ex·
isted for more than a centlll)'. In this particular case, the factual
and counterfactual history ended up realizing different pOlenlials
within the system. If the study case here points to a more general
situation, then one may conclude that the actions of individuals,
the vicissitudes of human agency, and particular contingencies that
cannot be explained by any "general historical frame"-and cer-
tainly not by a later "teleological frame"-may play decisive roles
in the "historical selection" of which alternative-and sub-alterna-
tive-becomes factual and which countel-factual within a set of
(systemically) acceptable options.
As for the historical process al work, it can be characterized by
a mathematical analogy. Once particular (and basically non.-deter·
ministic) factors decide the value of a function in a related set of
functions (e.g., Pekah assassinated Pekahiah, Pekah did not assas-
sinate Pekahiah; there was a purge of pro-Rezin elements in is-
rael, etc.), such a value does affect lhe probability lhat related
functions will receive this or that value, in both the "real" and lhe
simulated "history." In other wOI"ds, the final outcome of a par-
ticular event is likely to affect the outcome of other subsequent
events, creating a net of "fulfilled (probabilistic) events" thal
strongly affects the probabililies of still unfulfilled events within the
36 This trend cominued later in thc rorm or Alexander's empire. thc Sclcucid
<lnd Ptolemaic kingdoms and finally Rome. One may also notice the long-term
tendency tOwards cmpires or larger geogr'aphical extclll. cr. R. Taagepc"I, ~Si;o;c
and Duration or Empires. Growth-Decline Curves, 3000 10 600 B.C.,~ Social Science
RLseardl 7 (1978), pp. 180-96.
86 EHUD BEN ZVI
same domainY To be sure, at times the practical differences

would be hardly noticeable, but when !.his ripple effect significantly
affects the likelihood of alternative paths at a main turning or
bifurcation point, as in the case discussed here, there is a poten-
tial for a significant difference between actual and counterfactual
history, even if they remain fully consistent with the parameters
of the possible in terms of the circumstances of the period and
place (i.e., systemic or "domain" considerations). Needless to say,
these are the instances in which counterfaclual history will be most
productive as a heuristic lOol.
In the particular case studied here such a bifurcation point was
affected. As for the potential differences between the allernalive
outcomes, it would suffice to say that even if much caution is taken
in historical simulations that run much after the first coulller-
factual event, it is certainly reasonable to assume that the continu-
ing existence of Israel along with Judah during the entire Assyrian
period would have affected in a substantial way the history of both
states, and probably that of their "successors," Achaemenid Yehud
and Samaria, and that it would have had a serious impact on texts
(later) included in the Hebrew Bible, perhaps on their theology
and on the story of themselves that their writers believed, created,
and communicated. Further, it is likely that each of Lhese ouLcomes
would have had its own ripple effect.
This impact raises an additional meLhodological question,
namely thaL of the staLus of shorL "transitional" or "odd" periods
of (still explainable) anomalies within the larger perspective of a
long duree. As mentioned above, after some point in the neo-
Babylonian empire and for more Lhan two millenia, none of the
countries east or west of the Jordan were provinces (or sub-prov-
inces) of larger empires whose capitals stood outside the area.
Neither the sLaLus of vassal kingdoms nor outrighL independence
characterize them except for short "odd" and mainly transitional
periods, such as the first and forerunner of later empires in the
area (namely, the nco-Assyrian), and the relatively short transi-
Lional period bet\veen Seleucid and Roman hegemony. Yet, iL
seems that these periods may have had a significant impact on
successive hisLorical developments_~ Some of the considerations
~1 Cf. Ferguson's discussion of chaos theory and of ~chaostory,~ in Ferguson,

Virtual Histo')'_
311 For instance, one may wonder whal would have happened if the Maccabean
behind the mathematical metaphor or "chaostory," both of which

are associated \..fil.h virtual history as a heuristic tool, may help to
elucidate why this so.1'9
Finally, it should be mentioned thal. coulllenactual history helps
to focus on "hisLOry" as lived by l.he panicipants in the events,
rather than as narral.ed by l.hose who know '"the end." It raises the
issue of which alternatives they had and, as sllch, contributes to a
better reconstrucl.ion of the historical period, for their participants
did not know "the end." In addition, it shows how the outcome of
the vicissitudes of human agency (theirs or someone else's), wis-
dom or folly, and contingencies beyond their cOnlrol affected their
lives and sometimes sealed their fates, As such, il. may also open a
window into l.heir world, including l.he way in which they made
sense of their slOry,
ABSTRACT
SlUdics of Israelite countelfactual history. if carried out within cenain param-

eters of research, may significantly contribute to a beller understanding of Isra-
elite histol")' and the forces that shaped it, Such studies bring to the forefront
issues of causality. contingency. and the role of stnlclUral or systemic consider-
ations in Israelite history. This panicular work addresses these: issues from the
pellOpective of (a) onc coumerfactual e~'CUI that W<lS possible-:'lIld perhaps c"cn
as likely as the factual ~'elll itself-and (b) the probable consequences of such
a counterfactual ~'enl. What if there had not been an anti-Assyrian 5)'ro-
Ephraimite coalition? What if Israel had remained a loyal ~'llSSa1 and had asked
help from Assyria against Rezin, JUSt asJudah did? A study of the period and of
policies of the Assyrian kings in the area suggests that this counterfactual sce-
nario could have led to the survival. and perhaps e~'en economic nourishing, of
the Nonhern Kingdom until the very end of the Assyrian period. Although it is
true that such a kingdom would h:we fallen during the neo-Babylonian period,
this alternative scena.-io would have had a strong impact not only on the [h'es of
the northern Israelites-to stille the ob'10us but often forgotten in common ~te·
leological~ historical narrati,'es-but also on the liter.tlUl·c that was e,'el1lually in-
cluded ill the "Hebrew Bible,~ and, of course. on those ,,'ho wrote and those for
whom this literature I\,;\S wdllell,
revolt, which led to one of these "odd~ periods. would have fOliled and Menclaos
and his policies would ha\'e dominated Palestine. Would Christianity and rabbinic
Jud<lislll come into existence? Of course. these issues are beyond the scope of
the present stud)',
'" It goes without sa),ing lhat 1I011e of the considerations aoo,'e call for a re-
turn to the histories of "great men," It Illay be mentioned that these consider-
ations do not call for a rcj«tion of long dum or smJctural (or SYSlemic) approaches
in history. In fact. the consideralions above may contribule to these approaches
hy allowing Ihem to heller ilHeract with -anomalies- and lhe richness of p0s-
sibilities that arc consistent with sets of long durn, stmctural constraints. The
considcrations abo\'c, ho""c\'cr. arc clearly not consistclll "'lth deterministic or
teleological approaches to histol),
WHAT IF WE HAD NO ACCOUNTS OF
St:: NACHt::RJB'S THIRD CAMPAIG
OR
THE PALACE REUEFS
DEPICTING HIS CAPT RE OF LACHISH?
DIANA EDELMAN
Univm;;ty of Sluffidd
Suppose no accounLS of Sennacherib's third campaign in 701

neE' or the palace reliefs from room 36 of the palace of Nineveh,
depicting the conquest of Lachish with the accompanying epi-
graph identifying the scene as Lachish, had sllIvived. 2 In addition
to a graphic depiction of his capture of Lachish, we would lack
the following official Assyrian account:
In the COUf5e of my campaign I besieged Belh-Dagon, Joppa, Banai-Barqa,
AzunI, cities belonging to $idqa who did nOl bow to my feet quickly
(enough); I conquered (them) and carried their spoib away. The officials,
the nobles, and the (common) people of Ekron_ho had Lhrown Padi.
their king. into feuers (becaust: he was loy;al) 10 (his) solemn oath (sworn)
by the god Ashur, :.md had handed him o"er to Hezekiah, the man of
Judah-(and) he (Hezekiah) held him in confinement like an enemy-had
become afraid and had called (for help) upon the kings of Egypt (and) the
bowmen, the chariot (corps) and the C3\'alry of the king of Ethiopia, an
army hq'ond counting-and these had come to their assislaJlce. In the
neighborhood of the city of Ehekeh their hattie lines were drawn up against
me and they offered hallIe. pon a truSI (>inspiring) oracle (gi"en) by
Ashur, my lord, I fought wilh them and inflicled a defeat upon them. In the
mch~e of the b:.mle, I personally captured alive the Egyptian charioteers
with the(ir) princes and also the charioteers of the king of Ethiopia. I
besieged Ellekeh and Timnah, conquered (them) and carried their spoils
away. I drew near to Ekron and killed the officials and nobles who had
committed sin and hung their bodies on poles surrounding the city. The
(common) citizens who had sinned and treated Assyria lightly I considered
prisoners of war. The rest of them, those who were not guil£)' of sin and
contempt, I released, I made I'adi, their king, come from Jerusalem and set
him on tilt: royal throne, o,'er them, imposing upon him the tribute (due)
to me (as) o\'erlol'd,
I For the various extant inscriptions that contain accounts of the third cam-
paign, see, conveniently, D.D. Luckenbill, AIlde11t Rnords oj AJJJria Gild Babylollia
(Chicago: niveoily of Chicago I'ress, 1927), "01. I, pp. 115-88. They include tile
Taylor Prism, the Oriental InstitUie Prism, the Rassam Cylinder, the Bullinscrip-
lion, and the Nebi Yunis Slab Inscription.
t See, cOlwenientJy, J.M. Russell, SnIl1lUhnibi Palau Wllhout Rival at Ni"~
(Chicago: Uni\'ersity of Chicago Press, 1991), esp. pp. 20!J..205, 25~.
SENNACHERIB'S THIRD CAMPAIGN 89
As to Hezekiah. the man of Judah, he did not submit to my yoke. I laid

siege to 46 of his strong cities, walled forts and to the countless small vil-
lages in their vicinity and conquered (them) by means of well-stamped
(earth) ramps and battering-rams brought (thus) near (the walls), (com.
bined with) the attack by fOOl soldiers, (using) mines, breeches, as well as
sapper work. I drove out (of them) 200, 150 people, young and old, male
and female, horses, mules, donkeys, camels, big and small cattle beyond
counting, and considered (them) booty. Himself I made a plisoner in Jeru.
salem. his royal I'esidence, like a bird in a cage. I surrounded him with
earthworks-the one coming out of his city gate I turned back to his misery.
His towns that I had plundered, I lOok ;lway from his country and gave them
(over) to Mitinti. king of Ashdod. Padi, king of Ekron, and SilIibd, king of
Gaz,1.. Thus, I reduced his country, but I still increased the tribute and the
halF'll-presents (due) to me (as his) overlord. which [ imposed upon him
beyond the fonner tribute, to be dclh'ered annually. I-Iezekiah himself,
\~hom the terror-inspi,ing splendor of my lordship had overwhelmed and
whose tnercenalY and elite troops that he had brought into Jerusalem, his
royal residence in order to strengthell (it) had deserted him, did send me
later, to Nineveh. my lordly city, IOgether with 30 talents of gold, 800 talents
of silver, precious stones, slibnite, large cuts of red stone. couches (inlaid)
with h'OIY, Illmedu-ehairs (inlaid) with ivory, elephant hides, ebony wood,
boxwood (and) all kinds of valuable treasures, as well as his (own) daugh-
ters, concubines, male and female musicians. In order to deliver the tribute
and to do obeisance as ;l slave he senl his (personal) messenger.
How crucial is the Assyrian account for the recreation of events in

Judah and adjoining Philistia at the end of the eighth century BCE?
2 Kings 18-20 provides many details concerning events that
look place in the twenty-nine year reign of Hezekiah, including
Sennacherib's siege of Jerusalem and his conquest of most of the
outlying territory of Jerusalem, 2 Kgs 18:7-8 gives tile initial im-
pression that Hezekiah rebelled against the king of Assyria and
that he smote the Philistines as far as Gaza and its territory, from
watchtower to fortified watchtower, prior to the fateful fourteenth
year, although it is possible to read w. 3-8 as a summary of the
high points of his entire reign. In the latter case, the timing of his
cultic reforms, his rebellion and his move against the Philistines
would be undetermined and could fall at any point within his
,·eign. The writer reports specifically that in the fourteenth year
of Hezekiah, which would be somewhere between 714-712 BCE,
Sennacherib, king of Assyria, went up against all the fortified cities
of Judah and took them and that Hezekiah sent to Sennacherib,
who was at Lachish at the time, surrendered, and paid the re-
quired "gift" price of 300 talents of silver and 30 talents of gold
by emptying the temple treasuries for the silver and stripping the
temple doors and overlaid doorposts for the gold (2 Kgs 18:13-
]6). In an ensuing, recreated exchange between Sennacherib's
90 DIANA EDELMAN
representative, the rabshakeh, and the representatives of Heze·

kiah, lhe rabshakeh mentions that Hezekiah is relying on Egypt
as an ally (2 Kgs 19-21). Later, when the king of Assyria has moved
from Lachish to Libnah, the rabshakeh repons that Tirhakah, king
of Ethiopia, has arrived to fight against Assyria (2 Kgs 19:8-]0).
Finally, it can be noted that in the oracle in 2 Kgs 19:32-34, YHWH
promises that the king of Assyria will not enter Jerusalem or shoot
an arrow there or come before it with a shield or cast up a siege
mound against it.
If historians of ancientJudah had no Assyrian account of Senna-
cherib's third campaign, how rnighllhey reconSlruct events in the
reign of Hezekiah differently? First, without tJle account, we would
lack an important anchor in the comparative Assyro-Babylonian/
Egyptian/biblical chronology that has been the basis upon which
absolute dates have been assigned to biblical events and the reigns
of the monarchs of Israel and Judah. In the present case, Heze-
kiah's fourteenth year does not agree with the Assyrian date for
Sennacherib's third campaign; the former yields a date under
Sargon II of 714-712 BeE while the latter yields a date of 701 BCE
for the Assyrian conquest of most of the outlying territory ofJudah
and for a lifted Assyrian siege against Jerusalem. Historians have
tended to accept the Assyrian material as more reliable and so
have tended to assign a firm date of 701 BCE for Sennacherib's
third campaign and his assault of Judah.
Ifwe did not have any account ofSennacherib's third campaign,
we would still be able to surmise that Hezekiah's fourteenth year
fell within the reign of Sargon II rather than that of Sennacherib
on Lhe basis of earlier and later Assyrian and neo-Babylonian syn-
chronisms. By counting forward and backward from other anchor
points, following the reponed lengths of reigns for Lhe various
Assyrian and Judahite monarchs, we would still be able to date
Hezekiah's fourteenth year and determine that the events re-
ported about the Assyrian conquest of Judah and siege of Jerusa-
lem by Sennacherib would need to be set after 705 BCE, the year
of the latter's succession. Thus, the loss of this additional point
of specific cross-reference would not be crucial.
Two results would then be possible. Either scholars would ar-
gue that the biblical writer got his year correCl, but confused his
Assyrian monarchs, and that the campaign reported LOok place
under Sargon II in 714-712 BCE, or they would surmise that the
writer got his year wrong, but his Assyrian monarch correct, and
would deduce that the reponed campaign must have taken place
in 701 BCE. Since extensive accounts of Sennacherib's eight cam·
paigns have been preserved in multiple inscriptions and none of
them was in the vicinity of Cisjordan,3 historians would undoubt-
edly link the biblical account with the missing third campaign in
701 BeE. In the first instance, Sargon II was active in Philistia in
7]4-712, quelling a revolt that led to his conquest of Ashdod and
its conversion to an Assyl"ian province. It might be possible to ar-
gue that he moved against neighboring Judah at this time, but
given the extent of the damage that he reportedly inflicted, one
would expect some comment about his devastation of Judah to
have been included in a summary of his campaign. Of the two
options, a link with Sennacherib's missing third campaign would
be more plausible.
The most important role the accounts of Sennacherib's third
campaign currently play in historical recreation is to provide in-
dependent corroboration for many details in the biblical account.
Briefly, this includes Hezekiah's rebellion against Assyrian over·
lordship, Sennacherib's conquest of much of the outlying territory
of Judah, the arrival of Egyptians/Ethiopian forces as I-Iezekiah's
allies, Sennacherib's apparent intent to besiege Jerusalem, Heze-
kiah's surrender to Sennacherib and his payment of tribute
involving large amounts of gold and silver, and Hezekiah's move
against Philistine territory.
At the same time, the accounts provide more or different in-
formation about some of these events, which in some instances
allows biblical information to be contextualized and so better
understood, but in other instances brings into question the accu-
racy of biblical details. Missing altogether from tlle biblical account
are the references to the rebellion of Sidqa of Ashke1on, the de-
position of Padi, king of Ekron, by his own people and his em-
prisonment in Jerusalem by Hezekiah, the Assyrian conquest of
Ashke1on's dependent cities of Beth-Dagon, Joppa, Banai-Barqa,
and Azuru, the defeat of the Egyptian forces in the plain of Elte-
keh and the subsequent conquest of Eltekah, Timnah, and Ekron,
Hezekiah's strengthening of Jerusalem by adding elite and mer-
cenary troops, and the conquest specifically of 46 strong cities,
, CaJilpai~ll HI wa~ al;;aill~t ll<tuylvlIi" alld El<tlll, #2 against llH: Kassitc lands.
#4 against Bit-lakin in lower Mesopotamia, #5 against the hill tribes east of the
Tigris River, #6 against Bit-lakin again, and # 7 and #8 against Elam. alone.
92 DIANA EDELMAN
walled forts and countless villages that belonged to Judah and their
turning over to the rulers of Ashdod, Ekron and Gaza, three loyal
Philistine kings, to control.
Alllung lilt: uc::lails unique to the Assyrian account, three in par-
ticular, the involvement of Sidqa in the rebellion, Hezekiah's
imprisonment of Padi because he refused to rebel, and
Sennacherib's ceding of most of Judah's territory after its con-
quest to the control of Ashdod, Ekron. and Gaza, provide a larger
context against which Hezekiah's reported conquest of Lhe Phi-
listines as far as Gaza should be understood. Even so, the full sig-
nificance of the biblical detail remains elusive; is it an expansion-
istic generalization based on his involvement in the removal and
imprisonment of Padi? Might it have been a move coordinated
with Sidqa of Ashkelon to tl)' to force Sillibel of Gaza to join the
anti-Assyrian coalition? Or. might it reflect a move to recapture
the land ceded by Sennacherib at some point later in his reign,
perhaps near his death?
Conflicting information beh\feen the h\fO accounts leaves histo-
rians to deduce which, if either, is more reliable. The Assyrian
accounts repon that Hezekiah paid 800 talents of silver, not 300,
along with ule 30 talents of gold and many additional gifts of pre-
cious commodities, daughters. and concubines. while the Bible
reports that he paid 300 talents of silver along with the 30 talents
of gold and gives the impression that this was the full extent of
the penalty "gift" levied against him by Sennacherib. Which is
correct? The Bible also claims that YHWH would not allow Assyrian
siegeworks to be erected against Jerusalem, while the Assyrian ac-
counts claim that they were laid. Which is correct?
For historians who take a scientific approach to evidence and
claim that we can recreate the past only with evidence that has
been be verified by a second occurrence of the same infol-mation,
the failure to discover any account of Sennacherib's third cam-
paign would mean that none of the details in 2 Kings 18-19 could
be lIsed to reconstruct events in 701 BeE or during Hezekiah's
.
matlon .
reign at large. As a single witness, the Bible would be unverifiable
and so would have to be dismissed as a reliable source of infor-
.
• This would probably be true evcn though somc of the e\"cnts seclll to bc
mcrHioncd in prophecies in Isa. 1-39. Given the generalized nalUrc of prophetic
pronounccmcnts so that fulfillmcnt can occur in morc than onc circumstance or
SENNACHt:KIS'S THIRD CAMI'AIGN 93
For historians who take a more courtroom-like approach to evi-

dence, however, the absence of any account of Sennacherib's third
campaign would have a small impact on their recreations of events
in the reign of Hezekiah, especially in 701 BeE, When there is only
a single source of testimony or when conflicting testimony is
presented over the same event, it is the task of the historian to
evaluate the testimony and decide what may be reliable and what
probably is not and to then render a verdict about what, if
anything, is going to be accepted as reliable evidence under the
circumstances, using his or hcr best judgment. In this approach
to history, it is recognizcd that evidence need not be limited to
those pieces of information that can be verificd. A jury must de-
clare innocence or guilt based on the presentation of conOicting
cases by the defense and the prosecution and the final verdict is
usually not verifiablc; the truth about what really happened is
never able to be definitively established. Recognizing that all his-
torical recreation is interpl-ctive and so subjectivc, historians who
use the courtroom model for understanding the evaluation of
testimony ,,"ill accept some critically evaluated details in the bibli-
cal account to be reliablc without absolute corroboration_
It is likely that most historians who espouse the courtroom ap-
proach to evaluating testimony \vill accept as reliablc the reference
to Sennacherib's conquest of most of the territory of Judah and
the arrival of Tirhakah the Ethiopian as Hezekiah's ally because
both know the specific names of individuals rather than merely
using vague titles Iikc king of Assyria or pharaoh/king of Egypt!
Ethiopia. Other known historical records of both of these kings
would place them within the same time frame as Helckiah, pro-
viding indircct support for the accuracy of the biblical account.
While most would not accept the speeches attributed to the
rabshakeh to be verbatim records of conversations in 70 I neE, they
would tend to accept the Assyrian titles used within them, mbslw-
keh., mbsaris, and farlan, to be I-eliable titles of Assyrian administra-
tive posts, seeking corroboration in Assyrian texts. In addition,
many would accept the appeal to the lack of the strength ofYHwH
to deliverJudah from the hand of the Assyrian king in 2 Kgs 18:29-
35 and 19: I0-13 to reflect t}'pical Assyrian rhetoric and logic that
can be found in many Assyrian inscriptions and would presume
chain or e,"eIllS, one could al","3''$ Olrg\le that a suggested parallel is nOI a reliable
par.tllel because il is too vague 10 pro,"ide a nece:ssan or c('nain correlalion.
94 DIANA EDELMAN
that such a taunt would have been typical on such an occasion.

Without the drawings of the siege of Lachish from the palace at
Nineveh, archaeologists would lose a primary anchoring pin for
their dating system, which rests upon an ability to delimit the
periods during which specific pottery shapes and styles were pro-
duced and comillucd to be used to within 1OG-200 years. Cur-
rently, the Assyrian reliefs with accompanying epigraph that show
Sennacherib sitting on a nimedu-throne, reviewing the booty taken
from Lachish, allow the pottery found in the heavy destruction
layc," that ended level III at Tell ed-Duweir" to be firmly dated to
Sennacherib's third campaign in 701 BeE. While this correlation
does not tell archaeologists how long a style had already been in
vogue or how long it continued to be used after 701 BeE, it never-
theless allows them to state definitively that virtually all forms
found in the deslluction debris were in use in 701 BCE, the last
year of the 8th centul)'.6 Thus, the absolute date provides a firm
anchor within the larger relative chronology for the lifespan of
each pottel)' form found in the destruction. Not every form would
have been introduced at the same time as the others, nor would
each have lasted in vogue for the same length of time; neverthe-
less, the dating of eve I)' form can now be extended before 701 by
some decades and after it by some decades on general principles.
Without the palace reliefs, archaeologists would not be able to
say with certainty that Sennacherib's Assyrian forces were respon-
sible for destroying the level III city in 701 BCE. Since the epigraph
explaining the drawings does not mention the campaign during
which the city was captured, the date of 701 could not automati-
cally be assigned to the event, although again, after reviewing ex-
tant accounts of Sennacherib's milital)' activities, it is likely that
historians would link the drawing with his third campaign since
none of the others were in this region. How significant would the
loss of this anchor date be for the current pottery chronology in
ancient Syro-Palestinian archaeology?
Given the relative nature of pottel)' dating and the inability to
pinpoint the date of the emergence or disappearance of a par-
~ For details, see, conveniently, D. Ussishkin, ~Lachish,~ in E. Stern (cd.), The

New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (Jerusalem: Carta.
1993), \'OJ. 3. pp. 897-991 (907·909).
6 It is possible that a few. rare pots were heirlooms that otherwise were no
longer in general circulation; the heirloom factor must always be taken into con-
sideration.
SENNACHERI8'S THIRD CAMPAIGN 95
ticular form, the loss of the 701 date would not have a huge im-
pact on the dating sequence. As an item of material culture, pot-
tery forms tend to evolve slowly, remaining in vogue for J 00-200
years. Thus, being able to pinpoint a single date during which a
panicular form was definitely in use, while valuable to a certain
degree, does not make a huge impact on the larger picture of the
lifespan of a given form.
However, the loss of the 701 date at Tell ed-Duweir would im-
pact in a more significant way the dating of the jars with handles
that bear lmlk stamps. The 413 examples of these jars that have
been found in the destruction debris of level III at Lachish
through 1990 allow these jars to be dated specifically to use within
the reign of Hezekiah, and, more significantly, to use during the
unsuccessful rebellion attempt in 701 BCE. While we cannot know
how much earlier than 701 they might have been introduced 01-
how much beyond that date they continued in use, we can say that
both the two-winged scarab seals and the four-winged scarab seals
were used simultaneously in the year 701, since both types are
found in the destruction debris. Without the 70 I date, scholars
would still be debating the general date ofproduClion for the jars,
their life spans, and the significance of the two types of scarab
seals. Even with the 701 date. their specific purpose remains
unclarified.
It is likely, nevertheless, that the jars would be assigned to
Hezekiah by many historians on the basis of the biblical testimony
alone; they are generally seen to be pan of a fiscal reorganization
effort under Hezekiah lO prepare for rebellion against Assyria,
since they are generally found in walled cities and fortresses within
the kingdom of Judah. They seem to be tJle precursor and model
for a subsequent reform effon that involved jars with rosette-
stamped handles, the date of which cannot be pinpoinled. On the
basis of the biblical accounts of cultic reforms undertaken by
Hezekiah and Josiah, however, with the knowledge thallhere was
no separation of lemple and state in ancient Judah, il would be
logical to surmise thal the jars are lO be dated lO the reigns of
these two kings, respectively, even though such an assumplion
presently lacks full verification. Without the Nineveh reliefs and
any accounts of the third campaign, current pOllery chronology
cannot allow us to date them to the reign of a specific king, only
to the span of a century; it can only provide consistent evidence
from a number of sites that the lmlk stamped jars were used in an
96 DIANA EDELMAN
earlier period than the rosette-stamped jars but that both are
found in similar contexts.
Even without the Prism of Sennacherib, it is likely that histori-
ans would 3tlribtILc the destruction of level III at Lachish to the
Assyrians. The dozens of Assyrian spear points and arrowheads that
have been recovered would point to this group as the agressors,
as would the siege ramp that has been unearthed on the south-
west side of the city. Such ramps were typically used by the
Assyrians. In reviewing the Assyrian records for possible campaigns
in the area and also taking into consideration the biblical account,
historians would propose eventually that Sennacherib's third cam-
paign would have been the most likely occasion for the destmc-
lion. In addition, 2 Kgs 18: 17 mentions that the Assyrian king sent
his military oflicials with a large force from Lachish to Jerusalem,
implying a siege, if not a conquest, of Lachish in the course of
the events thal took place during Sennacherib's move against
Judah. Thus, the failure to have an Assyrian record and reliefs
detailing the campaign within Judah and the capture of Lachish
specifically would not preclude the ability of historians to deduce
and propose that such an event had taken place and had led to
the destmction of the level III city at Tell ed-Duweir. This would
be the case even if the biblical texts did not mention Senna-
cherib's capture of all the fortified cities of Judah (2 Kgs 18:13)
or his encampment outside the walls ofJerusalem, given the clues
left behind by the assailants.
Without an account of the third campaign of Sennacherib, his-
torians would be left to surmise the reason for the sudden expan-
sion of the city of Tel Miqne/Ekron in Stratum I from a ten-acre
to a seventy-five acre site sometime near the end of the eighth
centul)' or the beginning of the sevemh century.7 All ofa sudden,
the city moves out from the acropolis area alone into the lower
city for the first time since its abandonment sometime in the tenth
century BeE. The lower city becomes the center of a massive olive
oil production industry that lapers off its volume of production
some time before the city's final destruction in the closing years
of the seventh century. Many Assyrian-style vessels are found in the
stratum that is contemporaneous with the peak operation of the
, See, convenienlly, T. Dothan and S. Gilin, "Miqnc Tel (Ekron),M in Stern

(ed.). Nr.w E11C)'clofJ£dia af Arch(lwlogical ExclJTlO{ions, vol. 3, pp. 1051-59 (1056-58).
olive oil industry. However, at some point before the final de-
struction of the city, the olive industl)' seems LO go into decline,
as evidenced by the incorporation of many of the larger capacity
pressing vats into the founuational walls uf builuings ill Field IV
Upper and on the acropolis in Field 1. At the time of their
destruction, these buildings contained a number of Egyptian arti-
facts, indicating a change in the political alignment of the region
from Assyria to Egypt as the power center with whom locals had
to reckon. This change is consistent with information from biblical
and extrabiblical texts about the decline of Assyria and the brief
resurgence of Egyptian influence in Cisjordan under Psammeticus
II and Necho, prior to the dse of the Neo-Babylonian empire to
its full strength.
In order fOl' Ekron's massive olive oil industl)' to have become
a reality, the city would have had to have gained direct control
over thousands of acres of olive groves LO supply the raw material
necessal)' to produce the 500 LOns of olive oil annually, the esti-
mated yield of the industrial complex at the height of its opera-
tion. It is highly unlikely that such quantities of olives would have
been secured by trade and the Philistines could not have planted
enough groves in the lowland area under their direct control to
produce the required volume of olives.
Historically, the hill country of Ephraim and Judah had been
centers of olive groves and olive oil production, going back as eady
as the Early Bronze period, when olive oil was already traded from
this region to Egypt. Imported jars of olive oil from Cisjordan have
been excavated in Egypt from this period, which saw the spread
of urbanization for the first time in Cisjordan. For Ekron to have
secured the large quantity of olives suggested by the 115 presses
found to date within the lower city of Stratum I, it must have
gained direct control over the hill country of Judah, where the
olive groves were already located. Thus, some military event would
have to be postulated to have occurred sometime in the closing
decades of the eighth centul)' or the opening decades of the
seventh century that led to Ekron's supremacy over its neighbor
immediately to the east, Judah.
A couple of options for the required military event are possible.
Ekron, working in conjunction with the other Philistine cities,
could have atlackedJudah and forced its king at the time, be that
Ahaz, Hezekiah, or Manasseh, to become a vassal and turn over
most or all the olives produced within the countl)' as tribute. Such
98 DIANA EDELMAN
a move could have been made with or without Assyrian approval,

depending upon whether Ekron and the Philistines at large were
already Assyrian vassals. If the cities already were under Assyrian
comrol, they undoubtedly would have needed to have approval
from their overlord to undertake such an action unless Judah were
considered a declared enemy of the Assyrian state. Judah first
became a voluntary Assyrian vassal under Ahaz (2 Kgs 16:5-9)
about 732 BCE, and the Philistines submitted to Assyrian vassalage
slightly earlier, probably in 734 BCE.
If the military event under discussion were dated to the opening
of Abaz's reign, prior to the whole area, Philistine and Judahite
alike, becoming Assyrian vassals, then no Philistine permission
to attack Judah would have been needed. After this point, how-
ever, permission would have been needed and probably would
have been granted only had the king of Judah rebelled. There is
no act of rebellion recorded in 2 Kings for Ahaz, but this mayor
may not be significant; the writer could have chosen not to men·
tion such an event, especially given its catastrophic outcome for
Judah. The yielding of most or all of the olives grown within Judah
to Ekron/Philistia would have been a rather costly tribute, but,
once defeated, Ahaz would not have had a lot of bargaining
power. 8
An attack under Ahaz would probably have required the
strength of the combined Philistine military forces to defeat the
forces ofJudah ratller than the army ofa single Philistine city-state.
By working together, the Philistines would all have benefitted, how-
ever. As the Philistine city closest to Judah, Ekron would have been
the logical site to process the olives into olive oil, and the oil could
then have been shipped to the Philistine ports at Ashdod, Ashke-
lon, and Gaza for transport to international markets. Some son
of agreement for the sharing of profits for the entire enterprise
could have been worked out among the cooperating cities.
The details of the scenario would change if the event were to
be placed during the reign of Hezekiah. 2 Kgs 18:7 states specifi-
cally that Hezekiah had rebelled against his Assyrian master but
was unsuccessful and, as a result, had had the fortified cities of
the realm conquered by Sennacherib and had had a heavy trib-
~ Perhaps the Philistines would have struck an agreement whereby some of

the processed oil was returned to Judah; it is impossible to know what SOrl of
arrangements might have been made.
tile price assessed to regain vassal status and avoid annexation to

the empire. It makes no mention of the fate of the conquered
land, or whether Philistine troops were involved in the conquest.
An astute historian, huwevel-, would tll-aw a casual link uetweell
the biblical account of the Assyrian conquest of most of the ten-i-
tory of Judah and the growth of the olive oil industry at Ekron in
stratum I and postulate either that the conquered Judahite land
ended up in Philistine hands or that its olives were ordered to be
ceded to them. The first option could have occurred as a reward
to the Philistines for sending troops to help quash the rebellion
or because the relocation of the olive oil industry LO the lowlands
under Philistine managcmelll would have cxpediled Assyrian ex-
ploitation of this important resource in the backwaters of the
empire. By placing the entire opel"ation under Philistine control,
shipment of the finished product to markets via the three Philis-
tine ports of Ashkelon, Ashdod and Gaza would have obviated
interregional rivalries.
If the military action were to be assigned to the reign of
Manasseh, the historian would again be faced with biblical silence
concerning the rebellion of this monarch against Assyria. As in
the case of Ahaz, however, the failure of 2 Kings to report a rebel-
lion by Manasseh might or might notrenect historical reality, since
only selected events from his reign have been recounted. Although
2 Chron. 33:10-13 could be used to argue that Manasseh might
have rebelled against his Assyrian overlord, their histo.-ical reliabil-
ity is suspect because the information uley present is lacking from
the parallel aCCOUlll in Kings and because the passage is used to
demonstrate how personal retribution was in force already during
the monarchy-a favorite theme of the Chronicler that appears
in many passages that have no parallel in Kings. NOt\v1thstanding,
a Philistine attack early in his reign would be possible to propose,
using the same lines of reasoning already set forth above for
either Ahaz or Hezekiah. However, some form of rebellion on the
pan of Manasseh would have to be presumed as the triggering
event since both Philistia and Judah were Assyrian vassals at this
time.
Of the three options for scenario one, it is likely that historians
would opt for the one under Hezekiah. It has the benefit of be-
ing based on some textual information. while the other two do
not. In addition, it would provide some sort of context for under-
standing the reference in 2 Kgs 18:8 to Hezekiah's smiting of the
100 DIANA EDELMAN
Philstines as far as Gaza and its territory, from watchtower to for-

tified city. Such an action would plausibly be explained as a reac-
lion to the loss of the olive groves LO the Philistines at large and
an attempt to reclaim the land for Judah. A date for such an ac-
lion would logically be placed at a time of change of ruler in
Assy.-ia or of perceived Assyrian weakness, when retaliation would
not be feared. Alternatively, it might be seen to be the first blow
in a border war between nvo Cisjordanian Assyrian vassals that
eventually led to Philistine (amrol over most of the territory of
Judah. The underlying cause of the dispute would not be known
but plausible reasons could be suggested based on economic ri-
valry and domination of trade routes.
The presence of significant quantities of Assyrian-style palace
wal-e in the acropolis and the administrative complexes in the
lower city at Ekron in stratum I could be viewed in different ways.
First, it could be seen simply to illustrate how the Philistine up-
per class and rulers were picking up on the latest style to become
known and popular-the fine ware of the Assyrian empire that
had recently spread its tentacles into Syria and Cisjordan. Such
an understanding is consistent with the fact that most of the ware
is locally made and imitative rather than the imported genuine
article. A second option would be to see the presence of the
Assyrian-style ware to indicate that the Assyrian empire had pen-
etrated the region and had already brought the Philistines into
the Assyrian political orbit as vassals. In this case, the presence of
the imitation palace ware could reflect the tastes and trends of
the new overlord, which had been adopted by both local officials
and possibly Assyrian officials now posted in the city. In the former
case, Assyria could have been one of the markets for the olive oil,
with the trade contacts introducing knowledge of the Assyrian
palace forms in the area as a new prestigious trend. In the latter
case, Assyria would have been Ekron's official overlord and so
would have been the indirect sponsor of the newly created indus-
try, giving approval for the creation of such an enterprise and un-
doubtedly taking a percentage of the product annually as tribute
payment in kind.
The second secenario for the military event that seems to be
required to explain how Ekron gained access to Judah's olives
would be to postulate that the Assyrians campaigned in the area,
attacked Judah, reduced it further in vassal status, and ordered
that the olives be turned over to the Philistines for processing at
SENNACHERW'S THIRD CAMPAIGN 101
Ekron. In this case, the Philistines might or might not have been
requested by their ovedord to supply troops to help Assyria with
the attack against Judah. The Assyrians, as overlords of the entire
region of Cisjordan, would then have been the ones who would
have established a new regional processing center for olive oil in
the Philistine lowlands, which would then have made the olive oil
more easy to ship from adjoining Philistine ports to markets al-
ready established by the Assyrians.
In this scenario, both Judah and Philistia become pawns and
workhorses for the Assyrian national economy, which is aimed at
exploiting natural resources in regions within the Assyrian
empire's control most efficiently and lucratively. A reason for the
Assyrian attack on Judah would need to be suggested, and rebel-
lion would be logical. A perusal of the Assyrian annals would show
tJlat rebellion was a regular occurrence among vassals in outlying
regions of the empire, especially at the accession of a new Assyrian
ruler. Given the information we have about the reigns of Ahaz,
Hezekiah, and Manasseh, I-Iezekiah would become the most logi-
cal candidate to have been on the throne at the time of the mili-
tary action in this scenario as well. He is known to have rebelled
and to have had most of his land conquered by Sennacherib. The
overlord would have been free to dispose of the land in any way
he saw fil.
Even without the mention of the ovel"throw of Padi, his restora-
tion to the throne by Sennacherib, and his receiving control over
part of the former territory of Judah in the accounts of the third
campaign, historians would be able to date the expansion of Ekron
to the lower city and the establishment of the massive olive in-
dustry to the first quarter of the sevemh century by using the
inscription found in the temple complex in Field TV in 1996. 9 This
inscription names the builder of the temple complex as Ikausu,
the son of Padi. Ikausu is memioned alongside Manasseh ofJudah
as one of the vassal monarchs of ancient Palestine who contributed
materials to Esarhaddon for the building of the suburb of Ninevah
called Kar Ashur-ahi-iddina. Esarhaddon ascended the throne in
680 BCE and ruled until 669 BCE; Manasseh ruled from 697-642
BCt:. Although no date is given in Esarhaddon's building inscrip-
tion, historians tend to date the building activity in question to
\I See S. Gilin. T. Dothan andJ. Na\'ch, ~A Royal DedicatOry Inscriplion from

Ekron," 11:.]48 (1997), pp. 1~16.
102 DIANA EDELMAN
the opening years of his reign, along with the first campaign.
Taken together with the observations that there was a brief occu-
pational phase in Ie the lower city at Ekron prior to the building
of the temple complex and that contemporaneous buildings im-
mediately outside the south enLrance have discarded oil vats re-
used in their walls, a date for the initial expansion into the lower
city in the closing decade of the eighth century BeE or the open-
ing decade of the seventh century seems plausible.
In spite of the important information contained in Lhe various
accounts of Sennacherib's third campaign and the reliefs of his
conquest of Lachish that were on the palace wall at Nineveh. their
absence would have little effect upon the recreation of events in
the reign of Hezekiah by historians ofJudah. The results of exca-
vations at Tell ed-Duweir/Lachish and Tel Miqne/Ekron suggest
that sometime in the last decades of the eighth century or in the
opening decades of the seventh century BeE, there was an Assyrian
military presence in the Judean shephelah and a ceding of con-
trol over the shephelah and highlands ofJudah to the Philistines
(or, minimally, a ceding of their olive yield) to fuel a newly estab-
lished Philistine regional olive oil industry. When information
about the kings who ruled in Judah in the period in question is
considered, Hezekiah remains the most logical candidate under
whom the ceding of the control of the territory of Judah to the
Philistines by Assyrian assent and agency can be plausibly posited.
The only details from the Assyrian inscription that are not easily
recreated from the otherwise available archaeological and textual
evidence are the complicity of the Philistine king Sidqa of Ashke-
Ion in the rebellion with Hezekiah against Assyria; Hezekiah's
forceful removal of Padi from his throne in Ekron with the help
of the local citizenry because of his failure to join the anti-Assyrian
coalition and his subsequent restoration by Sennacherib; Sidqa's
removal from the throne of Ashkelon and his replacement with
the Assyrian-appointed Sharruludari, the son of the former king
prior (Q an apparent coup that placed Sidqa in pm\"er; the exclu-
sion of Ashkelon from receiving any of Judah's land because it
had also rebelled; and the battle in the plain of Eltekeh betw"een
the Assyrians and the Egyptian and Ethiopian allied forces of
Judah. Thus, the main outlines of the history of the period could
still be posited, but the specific nature of the interregional con-
flict bet\vcen Judah and Philistia and the specific Assyrian resolu-
tion of of the conflict could not be established.
ABSTRACT
In spite of the imponant information contained in the various accounts of

MIlIl:lch... rih·s Ihird campaign :m(l IIU' r..li .. [~ of his cOll(l',...SI of I.:.chish, Ill ...ir
:lbsence would hilve linle effect upon the recreation of the events of the reign of
Hezekiah by historians of Judah. The results of exca\'ations at Tell ed-Duweirl
Lachish and Tel /o.Hqne/Ekron suggest that sometime in the last decades of the
eighth century or in the opening decades of the seventh century BCE, there was
an Assyrian military presence in the Judean shephelah and a ceding of control
over the olive yield in the shephclah and highlands ofJudah to the Philistines 10
fuel a newly established regional olive oil industry. When information about the
kings who ruled Judah in the period in question is considered. Hczekiah remains
the most logical camlidate under whom the ceding of territorial control, which
would have required Assyrian conscnt and agcncy. can be plausibly posited. The
main outlines of the history of the period can Ilevcrtheless be posited; only the
specific nature of the interregional connin between Judah and Philistia and the
specific Assyrian resolution of the connict cannot be established.
THE LOSS OF ARMAGEDDON, OR, 621 AND ALL
THAT: BIBLICAL FICTION, BIBLICAL HISTORY AND
THE REWRITTEN BIBLE
ROBERT P. CARROLL
U'livmi/y oj Glasgow
Ernest: Gilbert, yOli treat the world as if it were a crystal balL

You hold it in your hand, and reverse it lO please a
wilful fancy. YOli do nothing but rewrite hislOl)'.
Gilbert: The one duty wt OWl history is to rewrite it. That is not
the least of the lasks in store for the critical spilil.
Oscar Wilde I
Haunted by a sense of lost possibilities, historians are almost

Laodiccan in their attachment to the values of tile present time.
Quentin Skinner2
Reading the Hebrew Bible always plunges me into that vertigi-

nous experience of having to confront yet again the unresolvable
dilemma of deciding whether the Bible is, on the one hand, fic-
tion which reads like history or, on the other hand, history which
reads like fiction or, on the third hand, an admixture of both
requiring no stated resolution from me in the public arena, I know
that this is a problem bequeathed to me by the Enlightenment
and one which I could avoid altogether if I were to retreat into
an imagined precritical, medieval world where allegory and
typology still hold sway. or if I were to embrace more fully a post-
modernist position where the terms history and fiction are
completely interchangeable. But being neither premodern at all
nor adequately postmodern I must wrestle still with the aporias of
modernity and face up to [he problems of reading biblical narra-
tives as if they were supposed to make sense to somebody reading
them at the end of the twentieth century,~ Among the problems which
I Oscar Wilde, 'The Critic as Artist', in Isobel Murray (cd.), Oscar Wilde (The
Oxford AuulOrs; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989), pp. 241·297 (257) (em-
phasis added].
~ Quelllin Skinner, 'Modernity and Disenchantment: Some Reflections on
Charles Taylor's Diagnosis', in James Good & Irving Vclody (cds.), The I'olilics of
Postmodmlity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), pp. 49-60 (56).
, While the viewpoint that the biblical text made sense 1Il its time to its
THE LOSS OF ARMAGEDDON, OR, 621 AND ALL THAT 105
the 'what if approach to reading the Bible poses for me is that it

reopens such a dilemma by forcing me to think once more about
the unthinkable and to decide the issue of 'history' or 'fiction'
and to wonder what difference would it make whichever way one
decided the matter. The fundamental question, 'What if the Bible
as history were different?', seems to me to be hardly any different
from a slightly rejigged question, 'What if the Bible as fiction were
different?'. So whether the Bible is treated as history or as fiction,
the 'what if' game will be played the same way however the ques-
tion is answered because the nature of biblical literature as history
and/or fiction, or even as historical fiction or fictional history,
remains open to the scrutiny of OUI" learned hermeneutical inves-
tigations.
In order to discuss some of the val"iations this game may have
or a few of the ways in which it may be played, I have chosen to
take tip that tired old scholarly topos of 'the death of Josiah' and
to imagine that it did not happen as described in the Bible. but
that the events retailed in the Bible happened differently and
rather later than the current version of it in the Bible suggests.
Changing this one iota of the biblical story will then allow me to
speculate about all the major changes which may be imagined fol-
lowing in the train of the question, 'What if Josiah had not been
killed or did not die at Megiddo in his encounter with the Egyp-
tians?' However, in order not to build too much on too little and
to avoid turning a variation on josiah's death into the 'Cleopatra's
Nose' of the Bible, I shall need to include a number of other
changes in my reconstituted biblical narrative of josiah which will
entail considerable changes in the outcome of the rewritten
narrative. For example, the removal from the biblical stOI)' of the
so-called deuteronomistic movement associated with josiah's
reformation of 621 BeE and the loss of the story of the so-called
'finding' of the scroll in the renovated Temple will have seriOliS
consequences for subsequent accounts of the production of so
much of the Hebrew Bible as presently understood by the intro-
ductory textbooks on the Bible. These additional variations will
then allow me to look at a changed universe, but a little less like
those science fiction type 'butterfly and dinosaur' stories where
wrilCrs may be a slLstainable point of \'iew. I h"\'e no reason to belielle that the
text need necessarily make any sense to readers other th"n its writers and from
a lIery dilTerent century or from another planet. I would wish to see the ahcrna-
live case made by argumenl rather than asserted as dogma.
106 ROBERT P. CARROLL
the crushing of a butterfly in the dinosaur age is imagined to have

radically altered the universe forever after the smidgeon of change
came about in the past.
The macroevenl, of which Josiah's non-<leath at Megiddo may
be regarded as one microevent in this imagined rewriting of the
biblical narrative, which I would propose in this article, is that in
609 BeE Neeo II had marched against the Babylonians and had
sllccessfully defeated them at the battle of Carchemish, thereby
effectively ending the Assyrian-Babylonian empire's hold on west-
ern Palestine. In the course of this triumphal defence of Egyptian
interests in Palestine, Josiah's support of Neeo at Megiddo had
not resulted in the Judean king's death-whether by accident, in
battle, through execution or by means of assassination-but in the
enhancement of his influence for and on behalf of the Egyptians.
His non-death at Megiddo should then be seen as the culmina-
tion of josiah's attempt to control large areas of territory under
the suzerainty of Egypt, and in the larger oUHake of biblical nar-
rative I would see the disappearance of the scrcalled deuterono-
mistic movement-whether because of its own failure to persuade
josiah from supporting the Egyptians or because it had never
existed so did not get the opportunity to construct the biblical
narratives in its own favour-and therefore the entailment of a
series of significant changes following this approach in the repre-
sentation of the ideological literature which is currently constitu-
tive of the Bible."
The one minor loss sustained by this 'what ir approach to re-
writing the biblical narratives is the loss of Armageddon. That is,
with josiah not dying at Megiddo, the later apocalyptic trope which
made use of the motif of Megiddo as the image for where the
final battle between the forces of the dragon and the beast against
the Holy One would be fought to a finish and the destruction of
the demonic spirits finally achieved would be lost from apocalyp-
tic thought. It is a small loss, which will sadden some readers:
The sixth angel poured his bowl on the great rh'er Euphrates, and its water
was dried up. to prepare the way for the kings from the east. And I saw,
issuing from the mouth of the dragon and from the mouth of the beast
and from the mouth of the false prophet, three foul spirits like frogs; for
4 This is not the place to debate whether 'herr ever was a dellIPronomiSI;('
movement, so my 'what if?' assumptions here are likely to agree, without connh"
ance or collaboration. with tJlOse who very much doubt the existence of such a
movement in the first piau.
they are demonic spirits. performing signs, who go abroad to thc kings of
the whole "orld, 10 assemble thcm for battle on the great day of God the
Almighty .. , Alld they assembled them tll the pUice which is called ill Htbrew Ar·
mageddtm (Rev. 16:12-16; cmphasis addcd).~
The place of this final battJe against the frog spiriLS is imagined
to be the place where the ancient kings had a nasty habit of dying
(cf. 2 Kgs 9;27; 23;29), the mount of Megiddo. The loss of the
lfope of Armageddon is a genuine loss and I must regret it, but
there is always a price to be paid for playing 'what if games. In
the subsequent history of the reception of the Bible, the name
Armageddon has become a topos for the apocalyptic battle with
which the biblically-imagined world will end-not to be confused
with current understanding of the second law of entropy whereby
our universe will eventually self-destruct. I think biblical Rezeptions-
geschichte can stand the loss of just one highly imaginative name
for the end of the world connict because there are so many other
terms available to describe such apocalyptic imaginings. 6
The real implications of my reimagining and reconfiguring
biblical history are much more radical than the simple loss of
Armageddon as a place name for the final baule against the frog
spiriLS. That kind of trivial loss can be sustained in any narrative
of the imagined end of the world, but the cent,",ll thrust of Illy
'what if approach to the biblical narrative is the much stronger
and more heavily loaded 'what if Egypt had won out against
Babylon, had broken the power of Babylon in the West, prevented
the emergence of Babylonian hegemony in that area and sup-
ported Josiah as their puppet king in Palestine?' ""hat would have
been the implications of such a changed history? How would the
subsequent world of power have been different and how would
the reconstituted biblical story have differed from the one we are
so used to reading? Apart from the fading of Assyrian power and
~ I have omined v. 15 because it interruptS the now of the narrative and is a

warning to the hearers of the apocalyptic vision to stay awake and keep their
garments-it makes for a much more dramatic illteractive reading of the text,
but I am really only interested in v. 16 for the purpose of this anicle.
6 The kind of thing represented by such a book as Pctcr Lemesuricr. The
Armageddoll Sen/x: The Power of FTOfJhecy flmi the Secret Life ofJesus (Shaftesbury,
Dorset: Element Books, 1981) would slll"\~ve this change. with perhaps the loss
of its title. The sorts of things discussed by Damian Thompson in his TAt Elld of
Time: Faith alld Fear in the Shadow of the Millenllium (London: Minerva, 1997
[Sinclair-5tevenon, 1996]) and Marina Bergcn in her Living a/the End of Ihe World
(London: Picador. 1998) would sluvive any such changes.
the emergence once more of Egyptian hegemony in the Palestin-

ian area, I can imagine many major changes which might have
arisen from these rather slight changes. But this is where all those
'might have beens' and 'what irs' of alternative history always tend
to irritate and annoy pious and professional historians. 7 Working
from the exact science and twenty-twenty vision of hindsight, and
working backwards from where we are today, it is easy but vacuous
to propose a whole series of changes in order to represent a world
which we could imagine as having been preferable to Lhe one we
are alllOo familiar with. However, as this is the only game in town
in this yolume, let us proceed to OUf speculations, reconfigurations
and the rewriting of the past.
The demise or non-existence of the deuteronomists proposed
by this approach to rewriting the Bible would, in my opinion, be
among the biggest and most important implicatures of such a
'what ir rereading of ancient history. The so-called Deutero-
nomistic History would disappear from the pages of the Bible, as
would the so-called deuteronomistic edition of the prophets, so
that certain patterns of imagining the story of Israel and Judah
would be lost to future readers. There would be no cycle of rebel-
lion and restoration motifs for telling of ancient times, of the
judges or of the kings, nor would there be a so-called 'prophetic
history' of the kings of Israel and Judah or of the people of Is-
rael. More important, I think, would be the disappearance of such
major events as the Babylonian destruction of Jerusalem and the
so-called Babylonian captivity. Deportation and diaspora would
disappear, except for the prior Assyrian deportations. as Baby-
lonian-orientated experiences. Of course there would have been
a diasporic aspect to Judean history because of the movement of
people between Palestine and Egypt throughout the history of
Palestinian peoples. There might even have been a Babylonian
dimension to the diasporic experience, but there would never
have been what is fondly termed the 'exile and restoration' pat-
tern of writing the story. Nor would there ever have been a move-
ment of an intellectual group from Babylon to Jerusalem-let us
leave aside the moot point whether this constituted a 'return'of
descendants of the imagined original deportees or a seizure of
7 They arc well rehearsed in Niall Ferguson's introductory essay 'Virtual His,
lOry: Towards a "Chaotic~ Theory of the Past', in Ferguson (cd,), Virtual fliJlory:
Altn71alivtj a7ld Cmmler!aclllau (London: Papermac, 1998 [original edition: Pica-
dor, 1997J), pp. 1-90.
power by a Babylonian group claiming to have been descendants

of the original deportees-intent on reconstructing Temple and
territory as a bid for hegemonic comrol of the Persian colony
'a<.:l-uss the River'.
Now I really do think that all such changes would have enlailed
some powerful implications for a highly reimagined, reconfigured
sto,)' ofJudah. I would not go so fal- as to say thattheJudaisms we
have known throughout the past 1:\....0 millennia would never have
come into existence. That would be far too radical and cata·
strophic a set of reimaginings and reconfigurations-lacking any
sense of controls, boundaries or limitations-and would turn my
simple group of 'what if changes into world-altering conse-
quences. No, but I do think that there would have been very many
changes and some perhaps beyond imagining too. Evel)\lhing would
have bem diJJerent. How different is a fair question to ask: perhaps
only slightly different in some cases and a matter of sea changes
in other cases, but the broad canvas would have looked really quite
different from the canvases we are used to producing of that past.
I think the Temple might well have nourished throughout the
Egyptian, Persian, Greek and Roman periods, so there might not
have been any major changes there. s I know there are vel)' fine
biblical scholars who have always thought that contemporary bib-
lical scholarship is too in thrall to theories of deuteronomism and
who would much rather we concentrated on the Temple culture
to the diminishing of focus on deuteronomistic matters. 9 The
entity of the Temple would certainly provide for such linking ma-
terial and continuity bel:\....e en what we imagine is in the Bible and
the post-biblical period, so that there might not be as much dis-
ruption as we would like to think if notions of deuteronomism
and the Babylonian deportation disappeared from our Bibles. But
8 As much as I would like to I shall not hcre imagine a \'cry different world
ill which thcre was 110 first temple or only thc existcncc or Herod's temple, bc-
causc I think thal might be a vcry differcnt 'what iF slory. I shall just Slick to
the biblical swry mutatis mutandis as ill1agined by my 'loss or Armageddon'
stol)'linc.
9 For example, Margaret Barker comcs insl<ulIly to mind as an oU~landing
scholar-one or the fcw biblical scholars in Britain and Europe with ideas or her
own too-who lakes such a view. See hcr The OlrIer Testament: The Surviual of
1'JIemes from the Ande/II Ro)'al Cult in Secfarian Judaism lind Early Christian it)' (lon-
don: SJlCK, 1987) and The Great Angtl: A Stud)' oj Israel's Second God (London:
SJ>CK, 1992). Roben MurlOlY's nalllC also comes to mind; sec his The Cmmic Cov-
enOllt: Biblical Th(J1les ofju.stice, Peau and the 11ItegritJ of CreatiQn (Heythrop Mono-
graphs, 7; London: Sheed & Ward, 1992).
it would still be a different world from what we are used to think·

ing of in relation to the Persian, Greek and Roman periods. Just
how different is difficult to say, and no doubt the irnplicatures of
such reconfigurations would be said differenlly by various people.
My guesses about difference and how different would be along
the following lines: the Babylonian dimension of ancient Jewish
fOOLS would be greatly diminished, if it did not disappear alto-
gether. Notions of 'exile and restoration' would cease to have
much imporlance for doing biblical history and exegesis. That
means much of the Genesis stories aboUl the 'patriarchs' would
either disappear or have to be rewritten completely, with figures
coming from tgypt rather than from Babylonia. The exodus SlOry
under the leadership of Moses might then become not only domi-
nant but the sole story of origins in the Bible. Palestine and Egypt
would then be the twin Joci of the Bible rather than Palestine and
Babylon. The implications of such a change are enormous and
probably would entail rewriting the whole Bible altogether. Imag-
ine also having to talk about the Jerusalem Talmud and the Egyp-
tian Talmud-for example! Of course such changes might be
miniscule in their particulars but taken together would constitute
a radically new matrix of origins, development and structural narra-
tives. An those deuteronomistic obsessions against Egypt would
disappear from the Bible or would have to be rewritten against
Assyria and Babylon (Persia and Greece?) instead. I think that
there would have to be so many, many tiny changes to everything
in the Bible that, Wisdom literature apart, the Rewritten Bible con-
stituted by my 'what if approach would be a very different (kind
of) book from what the Bible is now for its readers. It might well
be vaguely recognizable in comparison to the historical Bible we
all know (and love), but only if we had such an alternative Bible
in the first place alongside my reimagined, reconfigured Bible. We
are here in the terri lOry of 'possible worlds'-the property of
science fiction much more than sober fiction (of a historical
nature)-and we would all now live in a different world if we imag-
ine that our past has been changed. So that would make it very
difficult to compare different imagined worlds in the first place!
It might not surprise readers very much to hear that among the
implicattlres of my 'what if approach would have to be included
either the disappearance or substantial diminution of the figure
of jeremiah the prophet, because the logic of my rewriting of the Bible
would entail such a factor. I cannot now imagine much, if any,
THE LOSS 01' ARMACt:I>DON, OR, 62 I AND ALL THAT III
place for a prophetic figure who de"oted his life-the length of

that life remains to this day a matter of dispute among scholars in
Jeremiah studies-to announcing the fact that 'the k.ing of Baby-
lon' would come and destroy the city ofJeru.salem and the dynasty
of Josiah. If he had, he would not have lived very long! Or, if he
had, who would have listened to him or taken him seriously be-
cause Neco would already have vanquished the k.ing of Babylon
at Carchemish? It might be possible to reimagine a Jeremiah
preaching surrender to Egypt and revolt against an imagined Baby-
lon, but such a reconfiguration ofJeremiah partakes too much of
a simplistic reversal to be worth imagining in the first place. I
would rather consign the prophet to a quiet grave and have him
edited out of the record than have his memory slandered as a
friend of Egypt 10 He might, of course, have played a small part
as a minor figure in the Book of the Prophet Hananiah, if we may
allow that my 'what if approach could still entail a section on the
prophets.
My sense of the matter here is that, lacking a deuteronomistic
movement, and its concomitant obsession with an ideology of
propMtism, there would be no call for a collection of prophetic
traditions in the first place. For given a Temple-oriemated value
s)'Stem and central ideology governing the province and colony
of Judah in the Persian period, why should there be any opposi-
tional party represented by prophets in the first place? Those who
would like to save, in any sense imaginable, the traditional proph-
ets of the conventional biblical narratives will nlMr have to setLie
for the integration of those prophets into a radically different
collection where they function as "false' prophets and opponents
of the 'true' prophets and 'servants of YHwH' or accept that they
have disappeared from histol)' completely. If change there must
be, then how great will be that change? Here there is plenty of
room for disagreement among scholars, bUll shall assume a high
level of primary variation and argue for the maximum degree of
imagined change.
The major change which I would like to argue maximally for
would be whall shall call 'a loss of deuteronomism'. I suspect that
such a loss would have been one of the most real benefits of this
10 Ilere I belray my fondness for lhe representation of lhe characterJeremiah

as stated in cOlwentional Bibles. My fUwriltm Bibk would completely lack a sec-
tion on the Prophets and Ill)' academic career would have been "ery different
from the one I imagine I have had in the Guild thus far! But in the realm or
'what if?' reorderings of the univefS(:, ~'ef}thing changes and how!
kind of 'what if approach to rereading (rewriting) the Bible. The

loss of deuteronomism, or the marginalization of that movement
which has been characterized by Paul Ricoeur as the producer of
'guilt-ridden histories' would be the most interesting consequence
of my rewritten Bible. 11 Here I must agree with Margaret Barker
in her demand for pushing deuteronomism into the background
and for foregrounding the Temple and its cultic-mythic
worldview. For the sake of convenience I will use her description
of deuteron om is tic ideology as an illustration of the positive loss
which would have been sustained by this change:
The prophclS' prou:st about inherited guilt must surely be a comment
upon the philosophy or the Dcmcronomic historians. The histories set out
to show lhal lhe Dcuteronomists had been correct; Jerusalem had fallcn
because of the evil ways of her kings, and these had been defined as
dc\iation from the DeUleronomists' standard. NOliee that the kings and
their disobedience are deemed responsible for the fate of their people, an
echo of the older ways, even though the Deuteronomists have adapted this
assumption to their own needs. The histories poim to prophecies fulfilled.
and to great sin inherited by later generations. The exiles wcre len to weep
by the waters of Babylon. One cannot help feeling that such an inter-
pretation of history, olTered to a people in despair. can only have come
from a rather vindictive menlality, perhaps from a group whose views were
nOt widcly aceepted. 12
This would be one of the most applaudable benefits of such a

'what if approach to rewriting the Bible. Deuteronomism, with
the possible exception of parts of the book of Deuteronomy (e.g.,
chs. 12-26), strikes me as being a pestilential cloud of moralizing ide-
ology which has settled down over much of the Hebrew Bible and
contaminated a great deal of the material therein, glossing and
disfiguring many of the authentic elements to be found in the
Bible. Much distortion and many displacements have been the
result of the deuteronomistic interference with-what more be-
nign critics might call 'editing'-so many of the traditions in the
biblical text. Again I would have to agree with Margaret Barker's
sound judgment when she advocates a differenl approach to read·
ing the Hebrew Bible:
II See Paul Ricoeur, 'Biblical Readings and Meditations', in Ricoeur, Critique

and Co'miction: Conversations with Francois AultlVi & Marc de tmmay (trans.
Kathleen Blarney [French ori,it 1995]; London: Polity Press, 1998), pp. 139-70
( 141).
12 Barker, The Older Testamrnl, p. 143; for her trealment of Deuteronomy see
eh.5 (pp. 142-60).
For rar too long our reading or the Old Testament has been dominated
and distorted by Oeutel"Onomy. Theology has been writtcn in its shadow.
\Ve necd now to listen to other voices, bcrore our attempts at reconstruc-
tion lose contact with reality.l~
Whether there would be other and equally (un)sustainable

losses accompanying the loss of deuteronomistic values I am not
sure. Would the book ofJob be lost if Deuteronomy and deutero-
nomism were less prominenl in the collection of ancient Semitic
writings? I doubt vel)' much that it would be lost because I sus~
pect the altitudes of Job's friends represenled standard popular
and conventional moralities rather than deuteronomistic values.
What befell Job was probably ounvith the deuteronomistic 'double
entl)' book~keeping' notion of morality-what Oscar Wilde's Miss
Prism would have defined as fiction: 'The good ended happily,
and the bad unhappily. That is what Fiction means' .-so Job would
have sutvlved the serious rips in the fabric of conventional bibli~
cal literature caused by the disappearance of such biblical topoi
as Josiah's death at Megiddo, the Babylonian captivity, deporta~
tion as exile and the loss of deuteronomism. Other moralities
would have replaced it or closed over the hole caused by this sud-
den occlusion of deuteronomism, so that we as modern readers
would never have known that anything real had disappeared.
I think it would be a case of going too far to imagine that all
subsequent religious developments arising out of movements as-
sociated with the ancient Near East would necessarily have been
the beneficiaries of such a loss of deuteronomism. The quid pro
quo aspect of religion which represents the mechanics of any and
all religions oj obedience probably would have emerged in the main-
stream religions which nowed over time from Jerusalem and
Mecca and points east (Byzantium) or west (Rome). As the lwen~
liclh century comes 10 an end and after one of lhe most awful
and appalling centuries of all time, noted so much for its 'fascisms
of obedience' to a whole SpeClt"tlm of killing ideologies, the no-
tion of obedience strikes me as one of the mosl~fearsomely-to~be~
avoided values in human communilies. In terms of values and
systems I am inclined to believe that 'the rhetoric of obedience'
came into the bloodstream of Western cui lure via the kinds of
formal Christian ethics which were shaped by deuteronomistic
values and other biblical deuteronomislS (such as the apostle
l~ Barker. The Older Testament, p. 154.

Paul). After such knowledge what forgiveness! So in removing the

ideology and rhetoric of deuteronomum from the Bible, I think I am
trying to reimagine and reconfigure the world in ways almost
unimaginable. I strongly suspect that even with the disappearance
of deuteronomism in the ancient world, the rhetoric of obedience
and the mechanical notions of quid pro quo religion would still have
emerged and flourished wherever petit bourgeois ethics held sway
in society. So I do not wish to imagine or to claim that changing
some minor evenls in the ancient past would necessarily have had
catastrophic consequences throughout all subsequent history. That
would be to take the 'Cleopatra's Nose' approach to historiogra-
phy which I have already indicated that I have no wish to pursue.
My Rewritten Bible project would require a book~length treatment
in order to tease out all the consequential changes of a proper
62/ and All That approach to the ancient text as stated and as
imagined to be restated in this 'what if' moment of fantasy.
ABSTRACT
In this brief article the 'what if focus takes as its stage the disappearance
from the biblical nalTative of the so-called deuteronomistic movement and, in
panicular, the loss of Armageddon entailed by an imagined failure of Josiah to
be killed at Megiddo. The loss of a substantive associated with represel1l.ations
of the end of the world is acknowledged, but the concomitant loss of the world
of autholitarian, moralistic discourses associated with the ideology or deutero-
nom ism would more than compensate for the aesthetic loss or the descriptor
Armageddon. It would nOI be a case or all subsequent history having to be mdi-
cally altered, but everything would have been different and, in this author's
opinion, better (a non-posunodcrnist attitude). The stimulating writings or Mar-
garet Barker al·e utilized to this end and some points are made about the con-
ceivable benefits of such a loss or the ideology and rhetoric or deulcronomism.
The Re\\Tittcn Bible which lacked any sense or'621 and All ThaI' might then be
a pleasure to read.
WHAT IF ZEDEKlAH HAD REMAINED LOYAL
TO HIS MASTER?
NIELS PETER LEMCHE

Univmil)' of Copl!7lhagell
Virtual history lives from the expectation that decisions made

by single persons can change the course of his lOry. The successes
or failures of human beings tum the tide of hislOry. What if Na-
poleon had won the Battle at Waterloo? What if Admiral Nelson
had been killed at Copenhagen? What if Alexander had been
killed at lssos or Brutus had not murdered Caesar? Would this
mean that Napoleon would have remained emperor of France. a
country ruled for many years by his dynasty according to
Napoleon's own expectations? Would the British have lost the
battle at Trafalgar if Nelson had died four years before? Would
the Creeks never have reached India if Alexander had not led
them? Would the Roman Empire have sur-,ived until this day if
Caesar had had a few years more to govern Rome? Who would be
the poor souls chewed by the Devil in the bottom of Dal1le's in-
ferno?
Such questions are provoked by a very old but also very naive
understanding of the forces that lie behind the course of history.
Indeed, Napoleon should have won at Waterloo. Everything spoke
in favor of a victory for the French. What would have happened
after Waterloo? What could he and the world expect would fol-
low this victOlY? Would England have left the coalition because of
Wellington's failure? Would it not be more likely that other armies
would have queued up to be beaten by the French arnlY? Would
the French army not have exhausted itself, as happened the year
before, when Napoleon, after a brilliant campaign fighting and
beating several armies at the same time. in the end had to abdi-
cate at Fountainbleu, victorious but exhausted to death by the
sheer number of his opponents?
When we turn to the fate of the other great persons, would a
premature death of Admiral Nelson have changed the course of
history? Would the Royal Navy not have been so overwhelmingly
strong that it, perhaps not as the result of one decisive battle but
following several minor incidents, had worn the inferior French
116 NIELS PETER LEMCHE
navy down? Even in the case that a major batLle at sea had been
lost, would it not have been like the Battle of Jutland? The Ger-
man Navy won the battle, but the Royal Navy won the war at sea
because the enemy did not dare to engage it any morc.
Maybe Alexander's armies would not have walked all the way
to India without their great leader, but his many able generals
would have comillucd his campaign and achieved his main goal,
to establish a Greek hegemony over the Easl. The final scalement
with Persia had been in preparation for almost two hundred years,
ever since the victories at Marathon and Salamis, probably not so
much because of mililafy considerations but because it had been
mentally prepared for a very long period. It was the logical-not
to speak of the economical---consequence of a mental develop""
ment that lasted for hundreds of years. The process probably left
its mark on the Western mind, as in modern times, when to people
of the Western world the danger is always coming from the East.
What about Caesar? Would much have changed if Brutus had
remained loyal to his master and Cassius had not been enraged
by some minor offence? Caesar was already in his mid fifties. Given
the normal life expectancy in those days, he would have only a
few more years to live and reign. Octavian had already (accorrl-
ing to his will) been appointed as his successor. Civil war would
have followed because constitutional matters were not yet settled.
The Romans would have had to fight another war before the
Augustean principate could finally be installed and the organiza-
tion of the empire cemented.
Individual persons may leave their stamp on history---even clear
finger prints-but its general course would in most instances have
been almost the same. This has to do with the concept of La Longue
duree established by the French school of history called 'the An-
nals', according LO which the human factor is only a temporary
condition. In the long run, geographical and economic consider-
ations will dominate the historical process.
The course of history may have to do with 'real' history, that is,
the great events that changed the world. We need not, however,
stay with this kind of history. AJso the development of the human
mind is involved. The course of intellectual history is also a mat-
ter of virtual history. The history of Western philosophy might have
been different if Plato and Aristotle had not existed, but the phi-
losophy of antiquity would probably have been able to produce
other independent minds. Plato and Aristotle did not create their
WHAT IF ZEDEKIAH HAD REMAINED LOYAL TO HIS MASTER? 117
philosophical systems out of nothing, but based them on a very

long tradition of thinking, be it Greek 01" Oriental. The next gen-
erations of philosophers were more or less bound by the systems
of their great teachers. Had these teachers not lived, they would
have had to create their own systems.
My example of virtual history has to do with the POilll made by
this introduction, that the decision of a single human being may
not be vel)' important for the general course of histo!)'. The deci-
sion made by an individual may not be vel)' interesting-except
from the viewpoint of a newspaper person who is likely to con-
centrate on individuals. This is easy to explain. The minds of
people living in the Western world have difficulties with numbers.
It has been said that the death of a single pel·son is a tragedy, but
those of a hundred thousand people are only statistics. l It has
been the aim of modern historical research to establish a histol)'
that runs counter to the expectations of the Western mind. I am
not sure that it has really succeeded, except by making itself re-
dundant. General .·eaders still want to read about the exploits of
great men and women. They are not very interested in statistics
and numbers.
What if Zedekiah had remained loyal to his masters? What
would have happened to the tradition of exile and restoration that
carried tlle day among Jews of the Persian and Hellenistic-Roman
periods? Let's fake a different scenario of 587/6 BCE from the one
found in the Bible.
587/6 BeE
In this year, Zedekiah had been ruling his baltered kingdom of

Jerusalem for about ten years after the dreadful events of 597 BCE
when he was quite unexpectedly installed on the thmne of his an-
cestors by the mighty king of Babylonia, now his master and pa·
tmn. The conditions had been harsh. Jehoiachim, his foolhardy
brother, had lurned against his master and brought upon him-
self and his kingdom the forces of the empire. The anger of the
king of Babylon against his unfaithful client was great and justi-
I In lhe 1930~ a popular Danish song included the lines:

40.000 mand ble\' stormens 1"0\'.
De var aile kine~ere. Cud ske lo\'!
(40,000 people became lhc prey of the typhoon-all Chincsc, thank God!).
fied and the punishment was severe. jehoiachim had for once
been so wise as to die in advance of the Babylonian onslaughl. In
this way he escaped being personally punished. His kingdom was,
however, left depleted, bereft of the elite of its population, its
soldiers and its artisans. Its king, the ladjehoiachin, was taken away
to Babylon and was still living at tJ,C court in a kind of golden cage.
Evidently he had found some favour among the foreigners. Well,
dreadful Nebuchadnezzar had no reason to act harshly against the
young man. He had neither offended the king nor broken his oath
to his master. He had only been in the wrong place at the wrong
moment and was expendable. The king of Babylonia could trust
him and had replaced him with his paternal uncle Mattaniah, now
called Zedekiah.
Ten years passed and things were rapidly changing. Ten years
are many years to human beings all too ready to forget the lesson
of the past. His advisers were forcing their ways upon Zedekiah,
pressing him to revolt against his master, to whom he had sworn
allegiance and to whom he owed his loyalty. Should he push his
luck and rebel? Why should he do that? All previous rebellions
against the Babylonians, and the Assyrians before them, had ended
in disaster. Nobody had forgotten how the land ofJudah was to-
tally destroyed by the Assyrians more than a cemury before. Only
Jerusalem was spared, but left without assets of any kind. Every-
thing had to be paid to the Assyrian king to keep him away from
Jerusalem. King Hezekiah was utterly humiliated. He also had to
deliver his daughters to the harem of Sennacherib. It was some-
thing forgotten in Judah, but a lesson not lost on Zedekiah, who
was all too fond of his children and did not wam them to be swal-
lowed up by the multitudes of Babylonia.
'You should rebel against the infidel and win the grace of our
God'. This was the advice constantly pressed on Zedekiah from
his silly advisers. They should have known better. They would have
just as little chance of sUlviving the debacle as the king himself or
his family. The threats included in the treaty between Zedekiah
and his overlord had been explicit, and there was no reason to
doubt that they would be carried out if the rebellion turned out
unsuccessfully.
Zedekiah did not rebel against his overlord. This was a wise
decision. His depleted population was in no need of further blood·
letting. He had seen how the successor of rebellious Hezekiah had
altered the fate of his kingdom by playing the role of the loyal
client to his patron, the king of Assyria. Now it was Zedekiah's

turn. Let's keep good relations with our masters, and we will pros-
per. Maybe the Babylonians will allow us to incorporate provinces
lOSt as a consequence of !.he stupidi(), of our predecessor. Maybe
a king of !.he ancient house of David will be allowed to rule in
Jemsalem forever and ever. The risk of failure if we rebel is enor-
mous, !.he possibili()' of prosperi()' so much greater if we remain
loyal. Maybe some governor along the coast will turn against his
master. When he fails, we will help the Babylonians and ask for
his proper()' in exchange. And when Babylon in the future turns
against Egypt-the broken staff of a reed-we will join the
Babylonians and win a fortune for ourselves.
Zedekiah remained loyal. Neither he nor his successor was at
any time unfaithful to his oath of allegiance. He did not outlive
his patron, but died in peace, as a beloved king, ten years later.
Sadly his sons had died young, but !.he Babylonian king found a
substitute: Jehoiachin had in his captivity married a Babylonian
noblewoman. One of their children, Amelmarduk, a young and
gifted boy well versed in Babylonian culture, history and science,
was appointed to succeed old Zedekiah. Amelmarduk's long reign
introduced a period of massi\'e cultural import from Mesopotamia
that changed backwardJudah and its provincial capital into almost
a copy of Bab}'lon itself. Nobody ever thought of rebellion (or
would have dared to speak in favor of an insurrection). When
Cyrus put an end to the Bab),lonian kingdom, without resistance
Judah changed allegiance to the new master of the world. After
all, the tradition of a king of the line of Da\~d mling Jerusalem
was to them much more important than freedom, a word without
much meaning in those days.
No Exile, and So Whal r

If this scenario represented the true turn of events in and
around Jerusalem at the beginning of the sixth century BeE, the
consequences would have been remarkable. It has become com-
mon among slUdents of the Old Testament and the Hebrew Bible
La stress thaLthe exile was a kind of catalyst that created Judaism.
Judaism would not have arisen if iL had nOt been for the trauma
of the Bab}'lonian exilf'. TIlt' cala.',,-,"ophe that struck Jerusalem.
its royal house and its temple contributed to the impression of a
national disaster thaL spelled an end to the preexilic Israelite so-
•
ciety. Large sections of the literature of the Old Testament pre-

suppose the exile and make little sense without their authors (or
colleclors) having witnessed either the catastrophe itself or its af·
termath. Exilic and postexilic Judaism had to come to terms with
the faCllhat its God destroyed ancient Israel and gave his chosen
people into the hands of foreign conquerors and oppressors.
If Zedekiah had chosen not 1O oppose his Babylonian overlord
but had remained faithful to his oath of allegiance, there would
have been no Babylonian exile at all, nothing to explain and no
accusations against the God of Israel because of his acts against
his people. In shon, the preexilic existence of the Israelites-or
better Judaeans, the Slate of Israel had been destroyed 135 years
before the second fall of Jerusalem-would have continued with-
out interruption into the Persian and Greek periods.
The literary Nachlass, the literaLUre that should explain why all
of this happened, would have been without focus. There would
have been nothing to explain and no dialogue between Israel and
its God. In shon, there would have been no Judaism that had to
confront the tribulations of the exile. There would have been no
Jewish nation that saw itself as the heir of the ancient Israelites
who sinned against their God and were punished because of their
transgressions. And if we were to continue along this line, there
would have been no talk about a 'new Israel' and a new covenant.
Why should we need a new Israel when the old one was good
enough? Why should we fear an exile when we are faithful to our
masters, the one in heaven and the other one in Babylon?
Maybe religious ideas and sentiments would have changed. Of
course it would have been the case. The scenario supposed a com-
prehensive Babylonian cultural influence from the time of Zede-
kiah down to the fall of the Neo-Babylonian Empire. a massive
import of foreign ideas and symbols. The Persian takeover would
not have changed this situation, except Ulat from the end of the
sixth century it would be Persian ideas that permeated the Pales-
tinian Jewish society of the fifth and fourth centuries neE. The
Greek conquest at the end of the fourth century would have
brought about another massive source of import of cultural ideas.
The process of assimilation of foreign ideas would most likely have
led to a cultural and religious koine in Jerusalem, not very differ-
ent from the one found in other parts of Syria where successively
Babylonian, Persian and Greek influence was felt.
If we continue along this line, it will be difficult Lo underSland
•
how this religious and cultural assimilation could have led to a

Christianity that based its claim to be the true Israel on the Jewish
tradition of an exile that separated ancient Israel from the new
Jt:wish mtLiun. This uut:s nul Int:an UI3l SUIIlt: kind of ChrisLianily
would not have arisen. After all, who can deny that early Chris-
tianity was only one among several Jewish sectarian groups that
claimed to have met their Messiah, in connict with the official
Judaism of the Jerusalem temple community that developed a vi-
sion for a future Messiah. But the concept of a Messiah to appear
sometime in the future would have been unnecessal)' because a
king of the house of David already ruled in Jerusalem. He would
not have been an independent king but the client of greater
masters-nOt that the majority of his population would have ap-
preciated the difference.
There might have been hopes in circulation for a better king,
but such hopes always circulated whenever a dynastic change was
imminent. The new king to pin one's hopes on would, however,
be merely a member of the ruling dynasty. In that event, matters
in Jerusalem would have continued very much unchanged for
cemudes, as long as the king in charge of this petty state remained
faithful to his patron, whoever it was.
So, if Zedekiah had not revolted against the Babylonians, Juda-
ism would never have come into being, and if that had been the
case, Cillistianity would never have had any appeal. There would
have been no foundation for its claim that its Messiah was the only
true one. It would have gone down the drain together with sev-
eral similar short-lived religious movements of the Greco-Roman
period.
Finally, without Judaism and the affiliated Christianity there
would have been no Muhammad to take up the role of the proph-
ets. Islam would never have arisen in the Arab world and there
would be no Qur'an transmitted by Allah to his faithful prophet.
We would be living in a world without the great Western religions
of this day, all of them eternal sources of the appearance of new
sectarian movements. Instead of Judaism, Christianity and Islam,
a situation may have appeared where the classic philosophical he.-i-
tage survived in strength. The Stoic idea of the good person might
still have been the focus of an enlightened person's self-under-
standing.
It could also have happened that the ancient tradition was to-
tally forgotten, and we would have ended in a situation of barbar-
ism. Everybody would be doing whal he or she considered to be

right because there would have been no divine master to tell us
what is right and what is wrong. This is serious matter. Twice in
this century we have witnessed what may happen in a society with·
out a God. Two ideologies of the twentieth century have reacted
in a forceful way against the interference of religious ideas and
sentiments. One was fascism, the other communism. Neither fas-
cism nor communism abstained from killing its citizens in thou-
sands and millions in concentration camps. In fascism we find
down the road a place called Auschwitz. In communism the name
has changed into Gulag. Maybe we should not regret that Zede-
kiah revolted and that Nebuchadnezzar conquered jerusalem,
destroyed its temple and dethroned its royal dynasty. Zedekiah's
decision might well have been the most important ever made in
the history of Western civilization. In this light, neither Moses, nor
jesus, nor Caesar, but Zedekiah is the true father of our world.
He should be praised for his not.very..c1ever decision to oppose
the Babylonians. AJthough he instigated a revolt without any hope
of success, it would in the long run have been a human disaster if
his rebellion had never happened. In short, we owe our gratitude
to Zedekiah-at least as long as we are convinced that the deci·
sion of an individual is able to change the course of history.
No J:..'Xile, and No Consequence

It is sometimes maintained that if Moses had never existed,ju-
daism would have been forced to invent him. The origin of juda-
ism cannot be explained as a historical phenomenon without this
man of God who acted as a middleman between God and Israel.
Of course the correct answer to this argument is 'and so they did '!
Now, it would be difficult to explain Judaism if there were no exile.
This has to do with the function of the exile. It is not exclusively
a historical event that changed ancient Israel into Judaism. This
way of looking at the exile is probably only a modern way of ex·
pressing the point made by the biblical historiographers, that
there really was an exile. The idea of the exile is combined in the
Bible with the obvious myth of the empty land, which argues that
all of Israel was carried away into exile in Mesopotamia. Nobody
remained in the country. As a consequence, the people living
there when the descendants of the ancient Israelites returned to
the home of their ancestors must perforce be newcomers without

right to Slay in the country.
Thus the exile has two functions. On the one hand, it separates
tltt: SOliS fl-Olll tht:ir fatht:rs, tht: idol worshippers. On the other, it
creates a link between the fathers and the sons. The fathers were
punished because of their sins and had to leave their country given
to them by their God. The sons, the new Israel, were able to re·
turn to the countl)' of their fathers because they had not, like their
fathers, sinned against God. Being sons, they possessed the right
to inherit the land of their fathers and to throw out every illegiti-
mate occupant to be found on the soil of their ancestors. The
decisive argument was that the newcomers, the immigrants from
Mesopotamia, were truly the descendants of the ancient Israelites.
Genealogy was the customal)' means to prove this.
I referred to the myth of the empty land, and we know this bib-
lical concept to be a myth. Although not particularly wealthy, Pal-
estine survived the transmission from Assyrian to Babylonian rule
that happened c. 600 BCE. Recent investigations have shown that
for the main part of the sixth century BCE, Palestine was not a deso--
lated place (Barstad }966). On the contrary, it was settled, and
for the majority of its population life continued as ever. This part
of the biblical image of the exile is evidently by all means virtual
history, the construct of later times.
I will, however, also propose that the exile as described by the
biblical historiographers is a myth. According to the Bible, after
the fall of Samaria the people of Israel were dragged away by the
Assyrians who in their place imported 'riffraff from faraway coun-
tnes. The Babylonians deported their southern relatives, the citi-
zens of the kingdom of Judah, and left their countl)' emptied of
inhabitants as a total wasteland. No one lived there and no one
was able to return to this place before Cyrus issued a decree re-
leasing the Jews from captivity after his conquest of Babylon.
No one should be in doubt. Only a fraction of the Jews in
Mesopotamia ever returned. The biblical version tells us lhal the
Jews in their hundred thousands left Babylon as soon as possible
in order to return to their land of origin. However, apan from
this scenario created by the Old Testament hisloriographers, all
historical evidence points in a different direction, telling us that,
in the Persian period. a wealthy society of people from the west
remained in Mesopotamia, which was destined lo become a ma-
jor center of Jewish learning. As a matter of fact, this Mesopo--
lamian Jewish society was most likely not destroyed before 1952
CE, when political circumstances forced the Jews of Iraq to 're-
turn' to Israel, now a Jewish state in Palestine.
One of the principal metaphors used in the Bible abollt the ex·
ile is captivity. The exile is said to be a prison, and Cyrus is de-
scribed as the hand of Yahweh who liberated his people from
prison. As long as the Babylonians ruled, no one was allowed to
leave Mesopotamia and travel to the West. We have, however, no
indication that life in Mesopotamia was as bitter as that. We know
ofa growing community of people from Syria/Palestine that partly
assimilated, partly preserved, its identity.
The biblical idea aran exile also presupposes thaI nobody could
travel from Mesopotamia to Palestine as long as the Babylonians
ruled the world. Is this an historical fact or only something imag-
ined by the biblical hisLOriographers? Why should the artisans
deported from Jerusalem to, for example, the great city of Nippur
wish to leave Mesopotamia? Mesopotamia was, after all, in those
days infinitely dcher than Palestine, and life there was much richer
and more prosperous. It had little in common with the modern
wasteland of, say, southern Iraq, a consequence of historical de-
velopments that belong to the Middle Ages. In short. from an
economic and social point of view, there would have been little
or no incitement for people to abandon their new homes and re-
ttlrn to their poor land of origin.
In antiquity ordinary people did not travel at all, if not forced
to by special circumstances, such as forced deportations. The
conviction that people would leave Mesopotamia on the spot in
order to travel to their ancient homes in a remote countl)' is an
invention of the biblical historiographers and theologians. These
authors based their histol)' of exile and restoration on a notion
of Israel as the people of Cod that is related to modern ideas about
the nation, a nation that could not live without a land of iLS own.
The exile as described in the Bible is the construct of Judaism,
one of iLS most important myths of origin and a clear parallel to
another origin myth, the one of the exodus from Egypt (ef.
Lemche 1998). Although most modern studenLS oCthe Bible have
adopted the biblical version, this is not because it represents the
histol-ical reality. It is because it lives up to the expectations of
people living in modern times. The biblical identification of the
people of Cod fulfils our requirements for national identity. It has
therefore been all too easy for scholars of the present world to
accept the biblical explanations for Israel's ethnicity, be it the

historicity of the exodus or of the return from Babylon.
In the context of virtual history, it is easy to imagine a scenario
different from the previous one proposed as an alternative to the
biblical description of the fatal consequences of Zedekiah's re-
bellion. According to this second scenario the histOI)' of ancient
Israel as told by the biblical historiographers is in it5elf from one
end to the olher virtual history. It is a constructed hislol)' that may
have had litLie to do with the actual histol)' of the southern Le-
vant in the Iron Age. This verdict is vindicated because very little
of the stOI)' told by biblical writers ever relates to what happened
in the real world. Modern scholarship has made ulis certain.
We know lhat the age of the patriarchs as lold by the Old Tes-
tament is a piece of invented history. We also know lhal all of Is-
rael was never liberated from Egypt-even more conservative
members of the guild of biblical scholars will agree on lhis. They
may maintain that a small group participated in the events nar-
rated by the Old Testament, but only the hardcore evangelicals
would agree that evel}'thing happened as it is told by the Bible.
To continue, no invasion and conquest of Canaan happened, no
period of the judges followed with or without a Greek amphic-
tyony, and no political union existed between the twelve tribes of
Israel in the glorious days of David and Solomon. As a matter of
fact, the very existence of these two monarchs is highly questioned
by recent scholarship. Furthermore, because a unilY never existed
between all the tribes of Israel, there never was a break between
Israel and Judah as described by I Kings. The two pelty states of
Judah and Israel are factual. Israel existed as 'The House ofOmri'
for almost two hundred years between c. 900 and 722 BeE. Judah
probably united in iLS minute territol)' as a kind of city-state of
Jerusalem, perhaps sometime in the ninth or more likely at the
beginning of the eighth cenlllry neE. They were, however, not
alone on the Palestinian scene. Several other petty states joined
their number, totally forgollen by the biblical historiographers.
The question remains: Why should we pay more allention to
the exile as a part of Israel's history than to any previous period
that has turned out not lO be historical but virtual history? There
is, as a matter of fact, no reason to change one's view of Israel's
histol)' when we approach the exile. Like all other parLS of Israel's
histol)', the exile has a role to play in the narrative construction
created by the biblical historiographers, that of an origin myth. It
is part of this construction, not something caused by it, that is,

the result of a history that never happened.
According to our second scenario, the Old Testament histori-
ographers were active probably in the late Persian period, that is,
between 539 and 331 BeE, or more likely in the Hellenistic pc·
riod, probably in the third century BeE. Their literature shows
many signs of influence from Greek historiography. It also repre-
sents a definite reaction against Greek influence. We have an ex-
ample of a simultaneous acculturation and deculluration, so to
speak, and can see how the authors are at the same time attracted
by the Greek world and repulsed by its content.
In order to achieve their goal, thal is, to create an identity ab-
solutely different from the Hellenistic koine to which they physi-
cally belonged, the Old Testament historiographers created their
version of virtual histol)'. It was planned as a piece of propaganda
put together in order to persuade people to join their cause and
separate from their Greek masters. These authors probably
created their 'national' histol)' at the same time as other repre·
sentatives of ancient Near Eastern culture, now to a large extent
assimilated with Greek culture, wrote their versions. There is. from
an historian's point of view. no reason to separate the biblical his-
toriographers from their colleagues such as the Egyptian Manetho,
the Mesopotamian Berossus, or the Phoenician Philo. The period
knows of other historiographers of the same category. It was a
general trend of the pel;od to create 'national' histories in order
to preserve 'national' culture and identity before it was totally
swallowed up by the overwhelming Greek cultural influence.
It might well be that our first scenario, according to which
Zedekiah never revolted against Nebuchadnezzar, is more in line
with the historical realities of the early sixth century BeE than the
second one created by the biblical historiographers. Mter all, al·
though the Babylonian sack of Jerusalem in 597 Be}; is confirmed
by an independent Babylonian source (Wiseman 1956), this
Babylonian source breaks off a few years after this conquest. We
have the word only of the Old Testament authors that the second
conquest ever happened. The Old Testament historiographers
needed this second destruction, but also the subsequent murder
of the Babylonian governor to prove their case, that the countl)'
was emptied of inhabitants all led into captivity in Mesopotamia.
EpilolfUe
Virtual history has one wonderful quality. Nobody needs to
believe in it. Therefore I do not ask my reader to believe my
scenario. Nobody needs to pay any attention to it. They should
not, however, think of the second scenario, the one created by
the Old Testament historiographers, as more reliable. There is
no reason to think that it is beuer, that is, more accurate, than
modern constructions, and it is also no proof of its authenticity
that scholars of Lhe modern world have paraphrased it so many
times. Virtual history presents options and no more than that. It
includes narratives to be liked or ridiculed, intriguing opportuni-
ties for a revised history. IL should not be taken too seriously, yet
we should not overlook its background. We always carry the ques-
tion with us: What if? Where would we have been if ... ? In this
way virtual history is indeed a very personal matter. After all, it
places the human being in the center and not on the periphery
of hisLOry, as is very often the case in modern economic, social,
or political historiography. Because it is human, related hisIOI)', it
tells a story about us. Although it may fail in the eyes of the
professional historians, it is at least relevant to human beings, be
il the person who COnSlnlf"tS tht' virTU"'! hiSTory or fhe. one. who is
presented with it. 'What if is not a collective question, it is the
decision of Lhe individual LO ask his or her history to produce
something he or she might think is important.
Let us return to our friend Napoleon. The question, 'what if
Napoleon won the battle at Waterloo?', is not so much a question
about what happened or might have happened. It is a question
about what ought to have happened. Napoleon, the great hero in
his days, should have won that battle. It was and is still for his many
admirers a mystery and a scandal that he failed. 'What if is not a
neutral question or a play with words. It has LO do wiLh Lhe per-
sonal wish thaL history should have followed a different course.
'WhaL if is synonymous with 'if only'.
A Postscript about Literature

I have deliberaLely decided that this essay should be exactly Lhat,
an essay and noL a scholarly article. It is noL even a virtual scholarly
artide, like the !earllell illlluduCliun about the losl manusci-ipts
in Umberto Eco's novel Il nome della msa. It does not preLend to
anything except an exercise. If it tells us that we should be care-

ful paying much attention to virtual histories of the past, ancient
and modern, I may after all have obtained something. The essay
therefore (with one exception) remains notenJrei.
The literature mentioned in this essay consists of only three
numbers: Hans M. Barstad, The Myth of the Empty Land: A Study in
the Histor)' and A1'Chaeology oj Judah during the 'Exilic' Period
(Symbolae Osloenses, 28; Oslo: Scandinavian University Press,
1996), Niels Peter Lemehe, The Israelites in History and Tradition
(Libr31J1 of Ancient Israel; Louisville: Westminster/John Knox
Press; London: SpeR, 1998), and OJ. Wiseman, Gimmicks oj the
Chaldean Kings (626-556 B.C.) in the British Museum (London: The
Trustess of the British Museum, 1956). Otherwise the perspective
of the essay is exclusively the one of the so-called 'revisionists', or
'minimalists', or simply of 'the Copenhagen School'. Relevant
and recent background reading can be found in Niels Peter
Lemche, Prelude to Israel's Past: Background and Beginnings of Israel-
ite History and Identity (Peabody, MA: Hend.-ickson, 1998), and Tho-
mas L. Thompson, The Bible in Hist0'f)': How Writets Create a Past
(London: Jonathan Cape, 1999).
ABSTRACT
This ankle works with 1I,'0 difTerem examples of vinual history. The first de-
scribes the outcome of the events of 587 liCE. What if Zedekiah had not revolted?
Then there would have been no Babylonian Exile, no Judaism founded 011 the
idea of an exile, no Christianity founded on Judaism, and no Islam. So perhaps
Zedekiah's decision to revolt was the single most important decision made by
any persion in the history of Western civilization, Whereas this first scenario is a
mock scenario, the second is IIOt. It concerns the virtual history constrUCLCd by
the biblical historians who, among other things, created the myth of the
Babylonian Exile as the foundation myth of their constructed nation, the new
Israel. Seen in light of the extent of vinual history found in the Bible, the first
scenario could easily-from an historian's point of view-be considered closer
to the actual e,'ents in the southern Levant of the early sixth century BCE.
A CASE OF BENIGN IMPERIAL EGLECf AND ITS
CO SEQ ENCES
JOSEPH BLE, KINSOPP

UnirNrSilJ of NoIrt Dam/!
IfJerusalem had not been parI of a Gentile empire, the nomads would have
dri\'cn (he Jews into the sea or swallowed up Palestine. and the rock of Zion
would have been the foundation of an Anl.bian sanctuary a thousand ~'ears
bt;fore Omar's mosque. l
In 586 BeE the Babylonians finally extinguished the Judaean

state, destroyed Jerusalem, and deported members of the ruling
and professional class. The administrative centre of the province
was set up several miles north of Jerusalem at Mizpah (Tell en-
N~beh) under Gedaliah, scion of a prominent Judaean family.
one of those who opposed Zedekiah's ill-advised revolt. Ceda-
liah's nile as a puppet king did not last long, howe\'er, for he was
assassinated in the course of a short-lived nationalistic uprising in
582 BCE. 2 This act of foolish bravado led predictably to further
rep,·essi\·e measures including another deportation. Destruction
inflicted on other Judaean sites during the Babylonian conquest,
though severe. was selective, but the province itself \'t'aS consider-
abl)I reduced in size, especially to the south. According to imme-
morial tradition reinforced by myth, danger could be expected
to come from the north,~ bm the [ate of the rump province of
Judah was to be decided from the opposite point of the compass.
Some Edomites had been settled in the Judaean Negev since the
heyday of the Assyrians in the seventh centUl)'. and we may sup-
pose that their relations wilh the local Judaean populalion (in-
I Elias Bkkerman, Fro", &'m 10 lilt LlIsl of lhe Maccabtts: FO"'"(/fltioI1S of Post·
Biblicaljudais", (New York: Schocken Book5. 1962 [first published 1949]). p. 10.
t TIle assassin Ishmael. a member of the Judaean royal family, is described as
rab hamm.tkJt, a chief officer of the king. certainly nOi lhe Babylonian king. Jer.
41:1. A seal disco\'ercd by Bade: at Tell en·Nasbeh belonged to a rO)·a.l official
named Jaauniah Oy'tnJhw '1xJ IIIIIlk). a rather rdre mum: wille lJy .. llIc:;u,!Je, vf
Gedaliah's coun, 2 Kgs 25:23).
, Jer. 4:6: 6:9. 22, etc.
130 JOSEPH BLENKINSOPP
eluding closely related Kenites, Kenizzites andJerahmeelites) were

not invariably hostile. But during the western revolt against the
Babylonian superpower, which ended with the successful siege of
Jerusalem and me unsuccessful siege of Tyre. they stayed on the
sidelines, and as a result were able to infiltrate even furLher into
Judah. As long as some form of effective imperial administration
remained in place in the Babylonian province, they were restricted
morc or less to the eastern Judaean Negev. But once the local
administration collapsed with the fall of Babylon in 539, organized
resistance to their colonisation more or less disintegrated.
What happened then can be pieced together in the light of whal
lillie we know or can reasonably surmise about the transition pe-
riod to Achaemenid rule and with prudent recourse to the ar-
chaeological record, incomplete and always subject to revision as
it is. The relevant biblical texts must also be taken into account.
The policy of the early Achaemenid rulers towards the fonner
Babylonian province ofJudah, to the extent that there was a policy,
was determined by three factors: (1) control of the Mediterranean
north-south coastal route, the route taken by both Cambyses in
525 and Alexander in 332 as they advanced on Egypt;4 (2) control
of the east-west trade route from the Arabian peninsula and the
Red Sea to the Mediterranean; (3) friendship with the Arab
peoples whose co-operation was crucial for keeping open the trade
routes through the Arava, Sinai and Negev, and was to prove in-
valuable during Cambyses' conquest of Egypt." It is hard to see
what stake the Achaemenid rulers would have had in the region
apart from these considerations. Quite the contrary, Cyrus II,
Cambyses and Darius I would have had absolmely no interest in
re-establishingJerusalem, that 'rebellious city hurtful to kings and
provinces' (Ezra 4:15), or financing the rebuilding of its temple
whose personnel had provided religious legitimation for the di-
sastrous rebellion of Zedekiah, or encouraging Judaeo-Babylo-
nians resident in and around Nippur to resettle in the ancestral
homeland, if indeed there were any disposed to do so. The con-
ditions for Edomite colonisation were therefore in place, and tl,e
motivation was supplied by steady infiltration of Kedarite Arabs
~ There is no evidence that either Cambyses 01' Alexander thought it neces-

sary or profitable to move inland.
~ Herodotus 3:4-5. Theil' assistance resulted in a league of friendship between
Persians and Arabians (3:88). In the fifth satrapy Arabs were the only ones ex-
empt from taxation (3:91).
BENIGN IMPERIAL NEGLECT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 131
into the Edomite homeland east and south of the Salt Sea,6 not
to mention the prospect of better land for grazing and growing
crops in Cisjordania.
Even before the sack of Jerusalem, Edornites wCI·e wdl estalr
lished in the eastern Negev. Their hostile presence in the Arad
region is attested on ostracon number 24, and Edomite names on
other ostraca from Arad, together with Edomite pottery from the
site, suggest that they were at that time or shortly afterwards in
possession of this important town. 7 An Edomite cult centre on the
Wadi Qatamat (Horvat Qitmit) some fifteen kilometres south of
Arad was dedicated to their supreme deity Qaus (Q6s) , one of
whose priests is represented on a stone seal discovered there. Its
solid construction suggests that they meant business, that they were
there to stay.s The entire region is dotted with Edomite sites: Tell
e1-Milh (Tel Malhata), Khirbet Chara (Tel Ira), Khirbet e1-Mashash
(Tel Masos), Horvat Radum, Tel Aroer, Khirbet Chazza (Horvat
'Una). We even have a letter addressed to the Edomite com-
mander at this last location, situated about lwelve kilometres
south-east of Arad, lelling him LO deliver some foodstuffs LO some-
one and blessing him in the name of Q6s. 9
Once it became clear that the Persian imperial authorities were
not about to intervene, the pace of Edomite colonisation quick-
ened. Judaean forts in the eastern Negev (e.g., al Horvat 'Anim,
Horvat Tov) and in the Hebron hills were soon overwhelmed,
6 After the subjugation of Edom by Nabonidus in 553-552 liCE, there was no

central power in Edom to organize resiSlance against infiltration. See I. Eph'a!.
The Ancient Arabs: Nomads on the Borders oj the Fer/ik Crescent 9th-5th Cn/tunes n.c.
Oenlsalem: Magnes Press, 1984), pp. 170-201; LA. Knauf, "Kedar,~ in D.N. Freed-
man (cd.), Anchor Bible Dic/ional)' (New York: Doubleday, 1992), vol. 4, pp. 9-10.
J.R. Bartletl. ~From Edomites to Nabataeans: A Swdy ill Cominuity,M PEQ III
(1979), pp. 53-66. argues for Nabataean occupalion lO the exclusion of Kcdarite
Arabs.
7 On lhe Arad ostraca. sce Y. Aharoni, Amd Inscrilllions Oerusalem: Israel Ex-
ploration Sociely, 1981).
8 I. Beit.Arieh. MNew Light on the Edomites,~ BAR 14.2 (1988), pp. 28-41; MNcw
Data on the Relation belweenjudah and Edom towards the End of the Iron Age,"
in S. Gitin and \-V,G. De\·cr (cds.), Recent EXCaV(lliOIl$ ill Isme{ (Winona Lakc, IN:
Eisenbraulls, 1989), pp. 125-31.
9 In add ilion to the previous note see I. Ikit-Adeh, "Edomite Advance into
judah-Isr.tclitc Defensive Fortresses Inadequate,M BAR 22 (1996), pp. 28-35; on
the Horvat 'Uzza ostracon. sce l. Bcit-Arich and B. Cresson, MAn Edomite
Ostracon from Horvat 'Uzza,MTel Alliv 12 (1985), pp. 96-101, and on the alleged
Edomite shrine at En Hatzeva, R. Cohcn and Y. Yisrael, MPiecing Together an
Edornite Shrine ill judah,M BAR 22.4 (1996), pp. 40·51, 65.
132 JOSEPH BLENKINSQPP
bypassed, or abandoned. Cities whose defences had been dis-

mantled as a result of the Babylonian conquest and never rebuilt
(En~Gedi, Hebron, Tell e1-Hesi, Mareshah, Lachish) were occu-
pied, though it is not always clear whether the occupants were
Edomites, Kedaritcs, or a related Arab people. As Cambyses, with
the assiSlance of the contiguous Arab peoples, was marshalling his
forces along the coastal area for the conquest of Egypt in 525 BeE,
Edomite bands were passing through Ramal Ra.chel on their way
to an undefended and thinly populated Jerusalem. By the time
Cambyses died five years later under mysterious circumstances, a
modest sanctuary to the supreme deity Qos had been erected on
the site of the Judaean temple burned by the Babylonian
Nebuzaradan more than six decades earlier. to
Far from being in any way extraordinary, Edomite, Kedarite and,
later, Nabataean encroachment at the southern end of the Syro-
Palestinian corridor fits the overall settlement pattern throughout
the region. Mter existing for a few centuries, the monarchies of
Edom, Moab and Ammon had also been extinguished by the Neo-
Babylonian period, or the early Achaemenid period at the latest.
and the entire region was gradually taken over and occupied by
Arabian tribes and eventually incorporated into the Nabataean
kingdom. Thus, by the first century eE, the region was ruled by
an Idumaean (Edomite) client king, and Josephus could refer to
Moabites quite simply as Arabians (Ant 13:374, 382).
II
We have little precise information on the situation of the re-
gion under Achaemenid rule (6th to 4th celllury BeE). It formed
a small and insignificant part of the fifth satrapy (Babili-Ebirnari)
governed initially by one Ushlani (Hystanes). The administrator
of the western section of the satrapy. initially Tauenai, resided in
Damascus, and the oversight of the southern end of the Syro-Pal-
estinian corridor was confided to the Sanballat dynasty in Samaria.
Mizpah retained its status as administrative centre with a small
palace used by the provincial governor on occasional visits. The
III The tradition that the temple of Solomon was burned by Edolllites rather
than Babylonians (Slated at I Esdr. 4:45 and perhaps hinted at in Ps. 137:7) may
have been suggested by the Edomile occupation of the city a generation or so
later.
HENIGN IMPERIAL NEGLECT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 133
Edomite-Arabs meanwhile continued to consolidate their settle-

ment in the northern Negev, the Shephelah, the Hebron high-
lands, the Judaean highlands and the Judaean wilderness. Their
penetration extended roughly to a line running from Tel Miqnc
(Ekron?), through Beth-Shemesh and Jerusalem to Jericho. No
doubt admonished by the authorities in Samaria, their forward
movement stopped just north of Jerusalem. The territorial ambi-
tions of the Kedarite Arabs under their ruler Gashm were like-
wise held in check, at [east for the time being. I I
The mixed population in southern Palestine included Ji:hudim,
descendants of the original inhabitants of the Judaean kingdom,
but as time passed intermarriage inevitably blurred ethnic lines.
By this time most ex:Judaeans lived elsewhere-in Samaria, the
Galilee, the Transjordanian region, the Phoenician cities. The
principal concentrations, however, were in Babylonia and Egypt,
but there were Judaean settlements as far afield as Sardis to the
north and the island of Jeb at the first cataract of the Nile to the
south, In the territory of the former tribe of Judah the age-old
pattern of subsistence farming continued. Life was never easy for
most of the population, and was made worse by Achaemenid fis-
cal policy and heavy taxation dicL:'lted by the need to put down
interminable revolts and to finance campaigns of conquest and
reconquest, including the less successful forays into Europe dur-
ing the reigns of Darius I and Xerxes. Ethnic mingling brought
with it syncretic cults involving a wide range of deities. As the one
who sponsored the Edomite resettlement, Q6s was the most im-
portant, but cult was also offered to Yahu, Milkom, Anath, Han<ilat
and, after the Macedonian conquest, the entire family of Hellenic
deities,
II In spite ofSartlett's misgivings (see n, 6), it seems thaI by the fifth ce11lury
BeE the Kedarite Arabs had settled a broad area from the Tr.ll1sjordanian pla-
teau 10 the Sinai and perhaps the fringes of lhe Nile delta. A bowl discovered at
Tell e1-Maskhula in Lower Eg)'Pl is inscribed for "Cain son of Gashmu king of
Kedar,~ and thc samc name. filii. occlirs in a roughly contcmporancous Lihyanilc
inscriplion; see I. Rabinowitz, "Ar,lInaic Inscriplions of the Fifth Centul)' BCE from
a Norlh-Arab Shrine ill Egypl," JNI-:S 15 (1956), pp. 1-9; WJ. Dlllllbrell, "The Tell
e1-MaskhUl.a Bowls and the 'Killgdom' of Qedar in lhe Persian Period,' BASOn
203 (1971). pp. 33-4<1.
134 JOSEPH BI.ENKINSOPP
1II
Decisive for the course of the future was the fact that, as a re-
sult of this situation, the descendants of those deported by the
Babylonians in 597, 586 and 582 were unable to return to the
former kingdom of Judah. In this respect the situation was simi-
lar to that of Samaria after !.he incorporation of that kingdom into
the Assyrian empire in 732-722 BeE. In keeping wim their usual
practice, the Assyrians replaced the 27,290 Samarian deportees
mentioned in Sargon II's inscriptions with a mixed population
from northern Syria and soulhern Mesopotamia who, as a maller
of prudence, worshipped Yahweh (Vahu?), whose writ had for~
merly run in thaI region, alongside their own deities-Nergal.
Ashima, Adrammelek and others. Unable therefore to return, the
dcponees were assimilatcd illlo the Mesopotamian melting pot
and disappeared. If it is true that the Assyrians displaced some
four and a half million people over a period of three centuries,
this situation must have been replicated many times in all parts of
the Near East. 12
The impossibility for somewhat similar reasons of a Judaean re-
patriation meant the loss of a fixed point of reference, of an em·
blem of common idelllity, for the many 'hyphenated' Judaeans
scattered over the Near East. That the major centres in southern
Mesopotamia and elsewhere in the Neo-Babylonian empire nev·
ertheless survived was due in the first instance to a contingent
factor of state policy. The Babylonians found it more cost-efTec-
tive to settle deported ethnic groups as tenant farmers rather than
enslave them, and to utilise the additional labour force in regions
and on sites due for redevelopment, especially in the Nippur re-
gion. To facilitate administrative supervision and the collection of
taxes, they also permitted them to maintain their own distinctive
identity and organization. The same policy continued into the
Achaemenid period. Each enclave developed its own mix of local
with distinctively Judaean traditions, institutions, customs and laws.
Some built their own temples (Shechem, Elephantine, perhaps
Casiphia), but with the decline of animal sacrifice the trend was
irreversibly towards lay organisation. Some concentrated more
exclusively on the worship of the old, national deity, while others
II B. Oded, Mass lHportatlotU a"d lRport«s ;" 1M Nto-AsJJritl" £",piTt (Wies-

baden: Dr. Ludv.ig Reichen Verlag. 1979). pp. 19-20.
BENIGK IMPERIAL NEGLECT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 135
again hedged their bets by offering cult to local gods and god~
desses. Customary law, for example in the matter of marriage and
divorce, generally involved accomodation with local practice. This
at least was the case with the Judaean military colony at Elephan~
tine on the southern border of Egypt, and it was probably not
significantly different in other centres of Judaean settlement.
The impossibility for the descendants of the deportees to re~
settle in the traditional homeland was therefore the norm rather
than the exception. It meant that they had no realistic option but
to seek the welfare of the cities to which they were sent Uer. 29:7)
if they were to prosper 01' even sUlvive. At the same time it greatly
increased the probability of assimilation to the local culture.
Judaean enclaves seem, however, to have been more successful
than most in preserving a distinctive identity. Though there was
no one prescJiptive code of law and no central authority to enforce
compliance, a tradition of ritual segregation developed (dietary
practices and rituals of avoidance) together with fixed religious
and commemorative rites of a kind that could be practised with~
out priests or other religious specialists-sabbath and Passover in
particular. Traditions of national origins, of warrior kings, priests
and sages were also recited, no doubt with advantages, and in the
Hellenistic period tracts and histories were written comparing
Israelite wisdom favourably with that of the Greeks. We recall the
report of Clearchus about the encounter between Aristotle and
the philosophical Jew from Coele~Syria who not only spoke Creek
but had the soul of a Greek. 13
Another long~term effect of Persian neglect of this small (about
1,000 square miles) corner of their vast empire, and the conse~
quent loss of a Judaean homeland, was that the descendants of
the original deportees and exiles were spared the turmoil of
nationalistic politics and the apocalyptic Schwiirmerei so often in~
separable from the defence of national turf. In the early years of
Persian rule 'messianic' movements in Babylon precipitated by
political crisis-the revolt of Arakha against Darius and of Bel~
shimani against Xerxes, both claiming descent from the greal
Nebuchadrezzar-must have ignited similar aspirations among
Judaean expatriates; perhaps the prophecies about national and
dynastic resloration were to be fulfilled after all. But these aspira~
tions faded with the collapse of the revolts, and as far as we know
l' Reponed in Josephus, CQ/llra Apion I: 176-82.

136 JOSEPH BLENKINSOPP
members of the Judaean ethnos, though occasionally the object

of local hostility (for example. the Elephantine temple was de·
strayed dUling a riol in 411 BeE), took no further part in upris-
ings against Persia or against their imperial successors, the
Ptolemies, Seleucids and Romans. Meanwhile, the Nabataeans
consolidated their control on both sides of the Jordan, first as a
fully independent Arab kingdom, then as a client of Rome, until
the entire region was annexed by Rome in 106 BeE. At this point
an entirely new chapter in the history of the far-scattered Judaean
settlements begins.
ABSTRACT
Edomites were already well established in lhe Judean Negev before the
Babylonian conquest, and archaeological evidence suggests that they profiled by
the disturbances of those years (597-582 BeE) to infiltrate much of the province
south of Jerusalem. After the collapse of the Neo-Babylonian empire, the inter·
est of the Persians in the region was resuictcd to protecting tllC tlOlde routes along
the Meditermnean coast and the Transjordanian plateau and the approaches to
Egypt. They also had no interest in sponsoring the reUlrn of deponed Judaeans
to the region. Once it became dear that there would be no intervention from
disl.ant Sma. the pace of Edomite colonisation quickened, a semi-desertcdJerusa-
lem was occupied, and a sanclUary to the supreme Edomitc deity Q6s (Qaus) arose
011 the site of the destro)'ed Yahweh temple. This ruled out the possibility of re-
patriation, and Judaism de\'e!oped as a scattering of ritually segregated enclaves
in diITerent countries in line with other religions in late antiquity.
WHAT IF THE CHRONICLER DID USE THE
DEUTERONOMISTIC HISTORY?
A. GRAEME AULD
Univmit)' oj Edillburgh
I do not hold that the Deuteronomislic History was 'in fact' the
principal source of the Chronicler. However, it is a fact that this
is very widely stated to be the case. Even if the following discus-
sion is unable to settle the 'facts of the malter', it may serve to
illustrate what does pass for 'fact' and for 'evidence' in this part
of our academic field.
The Queslion Posed

For the sake of brief discussion, the question in the title may
be resolved into a larger 'what if and a lesser one. The larger is
a composite of three questions: (a) what if there was once a Deu-
teronomistic History?; (b) what if it did already exist at the time
the Chronicler worked?; and (c) what if the Chronicler did use
it? By 'a DeuteronomiSlic History', I intend here a fairly strong
definition: the familiar biblical books of Deuteronomy, Joshua,
Judges, Samuel, and Kings-or at least something very like their
present total shape. What then is the evidence that the Chroni-
cler worked from this hisLOry, these books much as we know Oum and
understood as a connected histmy? It may be sensible to assemble the
'evidence' for his method of composition, book by book.
If the Chronicler has been influenced by Deuteronomy, it is
negatively so-and that is not easy to prove from silence. There
are no strong grounds for supposing that the Chronicler worked
from or knew or was directly influenced by the text of Deutero-
nomy. There is of course shared language and material, but these
are concentrated in the so-called 'synoptic' portions of Chronicles
-the passages more or less precisely shared with Samuel-Kings
(such as the ark as container of the stone tables, I or Yahweh as
the God keeping covenant and loyalty).:'> The 'evidence' would
1 2 ehron. 5:10 / / I Kgs 8:9-and also Dellt. 10:1-5.

2 2 ehron. 6:14 II I Kgs 8:23--and also Dcut. 7:9.
138 A. GRAEME AULD
be stronger that the Chronicler worked from a text of Samuel-

Kings, and learned this language from there. than that he worked
directly from Deuteronomy. There is no all aloin' in special
Chronicles material to the way Elijah in special Kings material uses
the rare and distinctive word for 'kill' from the Ten Command-
menls against Allab and Jezebel (l Kgs 21:19). Of course, even
that usage does not prove that the aulhor of Kings knew Deutero-
nomy 5, but it is at least an arguable proposition. Chronicles is in
fact very much less 'Deuteronomic' than Samuel-Kings, and espe-
cially Kings.
The situation is very different when we compare Joshua and
Chronicles. There are several shared materials: the 1:\vo and a half
Transjordanian tribes$ (mel also in Numbers, Deuteronomy, and
JGngs); Achan/r who transgressed over what had been devoted to
the deity;4 accounts of tribal holdings and relationships in which
Judah bulks largest5 (and Caleb is prominent withinJudah);6 and
Levi 7 and the Transjordanians8 are more prominent than the
tribes to the north ofJudah. 9 There can be no surprise that these
links are often explained as the Chronicler's dependence on the
book ofJoshua. However, students ofJoshua have often described
these shared or similar materials as among the most recent
additions to that book: many of them as non-, or late-, or post-
Deuteronomistic. As such, therefore, they would be the least
reliable portions of Joshua to cite within an argument that the
Chronicler worked from a 'Deuteronomistic History' (in any
strong sense) of which 'Deuteronomistic' Joshua was a parL IO
And the relationship beu\leen Chronicles and Judges is differ-
ent yet again. These books have almost nothing in common ex-
cept notes about cities in Judges I (vv. 21, 27-33), which are found
also in Joshua and are widely accepted as being more original
, Josh. 1:12-15; 13:7-33; 14:2-4; 22 and I Chron. 5.

~ Josh. 7; 22:20 and I Chron. 2:7.
~ Josh. 15:1-63 and I Chron. 2-4.
6 Josh. 14:6-15; 15:13-19; 21:11·12 and several Calebs in I Chron. 24. On the
prominence of the Caleb lines within the genealogy ofJudah in Chronicles, see
W.JohnslOne. I and 2 Chronicles (Shemcld: Shemeld Academic Press, 1998), vol. 1,
PI'. 45-65.
, Josh. 13:14,33; 14:4b; 21:1-42 and 1 Chron. 6:1-81.
8 Josh. 13:7-13,15-32; 14:2-4a; 22 and I Chron. 5:1-26.
9 Josh. 16-19 and 2 Chron. 7-9.
10 That in some cases the direction of influence may have been from
Chronicles toJoshua is argued in A.G. Auld,joshuaUelold (Edinburgh: T&T Clark,
1998), pp. 113-19.
THE CHRONICLER 139
there than in Judges, and mention of relatively minor char-tcters,

such as Othniel and Caleb,ll and of Tola and Puah. '2 The heroes
(or villains) of the big stories of Judges-Ehud and Deborah,
Gideon/Jerubbaal and Abimelech,Jephthah and Samson~o not
enjoy even passing mention in Chronicles. One striking expres-
sion Judges and Chronicles do share: of the divine spirit/wind
'clothing ilSelf with' someone and impelling him to an unaccus·
tomed role, whether of leadership (as Gideon in Judg. 6:34) or
speech (as Amasai in 1 Chron. 12:19 or Zechariah in 2 ehron.
24:20; compare 2 Chron. 15:1).
The situation with 1 Samuel is much the same. The Chronicler
does know of Samuel and Saul, and is familiar with the claim that
Saul had resorted to a medium;13 yet these are essentially figures
from a past that the Chronicler does not repon. 'What if Deutertr
nomy-I Samuel were available to the Chronicler?' Then he passed
over most of their material in silence, and what material he did
use (and that, more from Joshua than ilS neighbours) was the least
Deuleronomislic material available.
The double question implied in the smaller 'what if might be
stated as follows: What if, even although a Deuteronomistic His-
tory encompassing all of Deuteronomy to KinRs had not (yet)
developed, there were 'Deuteronomistic' books of Samuel and
Kings? What if the Chronicler used 2 Samuel-2 Kings as source
in a period in which Deuteronomy:Joshua:Judges-1 Samuel were
still being formed?
If the Chronicler did use 2 Samuel-2 Kings as his principal
source for all but I Chronicles 1-9, then he used it much as fol·
lows. He transcribed almost half of the materials in these 'Deu-
teronomistic' books, and based on them a radical re-presentation
of the period of the monarchy in Jerusalem. The larger sections
which he did not transcribe included the more private and less
reputable parts of the stories of David and Solomon, and with
them the struggle between David and Saul and the question of
the succession of Solomon to David, and the connected record of
the kings of (nonhern) Israel, and with it the whole of the Elijah/
Elisha cycle. By and large, he repeated everything he did find in
the records of Solomon's successors in Jerusalem, with four main
11 Jlldg. 1:11-15; 3:9-11 and 1 Chroll. 2:42-50; 4:13.

17 Juclg. 10:1-2 and 1 Chron. 7:1.
I~ I Chron. IO:I3-14---cf. 1 Sam. 28:3-25.
140 A. CRAEME AUL.D
exceptions. Though he had much additional material to offer on

Hezekiah and Josiah, he also abbreviated what he found in 2 Kings
18-20 and 23 on those t\\lO good kings; then the record of josiah's
last four successors was much abbreviated, and many slock nega-
tive evaluations were omitted, such as 'only he did not remove
the high places'. His expansions related to cultie matters, build-
ing programmes, and a theology of repentance and restoration.
Although the connected story of King Jeroboam and his nonh-
ern successors is not transcribed by the Chronicler along with most
of the parallel sLOry of the south, this does not mean that he has
no interest in Israel and the north. 'Israel' is an important term
in his writing: sometimes referring to the whole people once ruled
by David and Solomon, sometimes to the nonh, sometimes to the
southern remnant of that people still ruled by David's house and
worshipping in Yahweh's house in Jerusalem. And the separated
people of the north appear in some of his earlier narratives as
Ephraim,14 and in (mostly) later ones as the Ephraimites and
Manassites and members of other neighbouring tribes. t " Then
again, on the assumption that the Chronicler did know and work
from the 'Deuteronomistic' books of 2 Samuel-2 Kings. he pre-
selved shadows of several of the northern narratives he did not
transcribe: reporting building work in Judah never mentioned by
Kings, in place of suppressed building reports from the north, or
tales of a spirit-filled prophet or man of God working in the south,
at points corresponding to the exploits of Elijah and Elisha in the
time of the house of Om.-i.
If the Chronicler used 2 Samuel-2 Kings as source, then he both
subtracted from his Deuteronomistic source, and added to what
was left of it. But he also altered its wording, not only replacing
idioms no longer familiar and modifying syntax for readers of a
later age, but subtly expressing preferences. He made more fre-
quent use of the simple name of the king of the time in place of
'the king' and more frequent use than we find in Deuteronomis-
tic books of 'the deity' or 'God' in place of his proper name Yah-
weh. Entrancing tales regularly correspond better with deeply felt
needs than with simple facts. It may be exactly as we focus on this
claim about minor changes in wording that we find the beguil-
ing-cven if counterfactual-lapest'1' beginning to fray and un-
14 2 Chron. 17:2; 19:4; 25:7,10; 28:7, 12.

l~ 2 Chron. 15:9; 30:1,10,11,18; 31:1: 34:6,9.
THE CHRONICLER 141
ravel. Scrutiny of a small set of overlapping issues in the David

stories shared by Samuel and Chronicles may give us some pUl'·
chase on the issues,
Da.vid in Jerusalem
The phrase 'ask of Yahweh/God' is shal-ed only in 2 Samuel 5
/ / I Chronicles J 4, but is used several times in Judges and I
Samuel. The usage pattern of 'uncover the ear' is similar: shared
only in 2 Sam. 7:27 / / J ehron, 17:25 but used a further seven
times in I Samuel,16 in addition to Ruth 4:4 and Job. If the Deu-
teronomistic History was available to the Chronicler as a major
source, then we must remark on the interesting coincidence that
(at least) two idioms frequent in the earlier part of that connected
history stopped being used just at the point where the Chronicler
began his transcription. However, both these usages ofJudges and
Samuel are better explained as extrapolation backwards from the
shared and more original David stories than as idioms from ear-
lier narratives or even earlier periods which vanished soon after
David gained Jerusalem. In somewhat similar vein, I have argued
that the stOI)' of the ark in Philistine hands in I Samuel 4-6 is a
fresh prologue to the narrative in 2 Samuel 6 of the ark's transfer
to Jerusalem, and not its original introduction. 17 Of course, a key
difference is that the ark is mentioned again, bolh at David's
evacuation of Jerusalem in face of Absalom, and at the comple-
tion of Solomon's temple.
David 'asking or the deity before routing the Philistines at Baal-
Perazim and his tl'ansfer of the ark to Jerusalem are neighbouring
stories with at least one point in common: divine 'irruption' or
'bursting through' (pr$) , whether against the Philistines at Baal-
perazim or against Uzzah at Perez-uzzah. The tales are told in the
order just mentioned in 2 Samuel 5-6, but in reverse order in I
Chronicles 13-14. What if we suppose that the order in 2 Samuel
is primary? Then the Chronicler has both separated the t"WO parts
of the originally unitary ark story, and promoted the first part
before the Philistine rout, in order to give David's religious policy
higher prominence than his milital)' policy. Yet we should con-
16 I Sam. 9:15; 20:2,12,13; 22:8,17.

17 In my comlllentaty on 1-2 Samuel inJ.D.G. Dunn andj.\\'. Rogerson (cds),
COIIlInnltary 2000 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans [in press}).
142 A. GRAEME AULD
sider as a cross check whether the purposes of the Samuel author

might have been served by a move in the opposite direction. Let
us simply observe that the Chronicler's order, whether original
or secondary, does allow the reader to suppose that it might have
been in the presence of the ark that David 'asked of the deity.
InJudges and Samuel, on the other hand, no location or circum-
stance is ever suggested for this consultation of the deity. Did the
readers of Lhese books just know how such 'asking of the deity
was accomplished? Or were the (later) writers of Judges and 1
Samuel simply adopting an established form of words from an
already influential text?
The way reference is made to the deity in these stories shared
by Samuel and Chronicles, but also reshaped in one or the other
(or both), may prove instructive. David enquires of 'Yahweh' in 2
Sam. 5:19, 23, but of 'Cod' in I ehron. 14:10,I4-part of a wider
pattern in the two versions of the battle at Baal-Perazim. The de-
ity is always Yahweh in 2 Sam. 5:17-25 (x6); and almost always Cod
in the otherwise virtually identical I Chron. 14:8-16 (x5). 'Yahweh'
is used by the Chronicler in his second reference to the deity
within v. 10. What if the Chronicler has five times changed an origi-
nal 'Yahweh' to 'Cod'? All such changes are possible. Yet he has
added to the text of this shared story his own transitional mate-
rial to the next stage in the ark story. And that begins: 'The fame
of David went into all lands, and Yahweh brought the fear of him
on all nations' (v. 17). The Chronicler has demonstrably no aver-
sion to the name Yahweh. He does often val)' between Yahweh and
Cod within the same sentence of his own material, as in the shortly
following I ehron. 15:2. And it may be this feature of his style
which had induced the one alteration he did make to the shared
source text: from 'Cod' to 'Yahweh' in 1 ehron. 14:10. Despite
the ovenvhelming preponderance of 'Yahweh' over 'Cod' in
Judges and Samuel, we should note that 'ask of Cod' does re-
main in the text as many as five times l8 over against 'ask of
Yahweh' ten times l9 in addition to 2 Sam. 5:19, 23. We may be
observing here the tenacity of the original usage in the face of de-
termined 'Yahwistic' editing: I mean 'enquire of Cod' was the
original idiom learned by the writers of Judges and Samuel from
the earlier version of the encounter of David and the Philistines
18 Judg. 18:5; 20:18; I Sam. 14:37; 22:13, 15.

19 Judg. 1:1; 20:20, 23; I Sam. 10:22; 12:10; 23:2, 4; 28:6; 30:8; 2 Sam. 2:1.
THE CHRONICLER 143
at Baal-Perazim, but this was overlaid by the same move towards

'Yahweh' among scribes of Judges and Samuel as we noted in the
Chronicler's supplement in 1 Chron. 14: 17-15:2.
This issue of divine name has wider resonance in these chap-
ters about David in Jerusalem: another overlap. The ark. is 'the
ark of Cod' in 1 Chron. 13:5,6,7,12,14; 15:1,2,2,15,24; 16:1-
and the references in 1 Chronicles 13 include all the material
about the ark which Chronicles shares with Samuel. But in the
Chronicler's special material in I Chron. 15:2,3, 12, 14; 16:4 we
also find 'the ark of Yahweh', and 'the ark of the covenant of
Yahweh' inl Chron. ]5:25, 26, 28, 29, and this constitutes fur~
ther substantial evidence against any suggestion of the Chroni-
cler's aversion to the divine name. When we turn to 2 Samuel 6,
the ark is Yahweh's in w. 9, 10, II, 13, 15, 16, 17, but Cod's in
w. 2, 3, 4, 6, 7,12.2 Samuel 6 starts with an ark of God and fin-
ishes with an ark of Yahweh. In all the material the Chronicler
shares with Samuel, he writes of an ark of God, but he mentions
an ark of (the covenant of) Yahweh frequently in material he him-
self adds or rewrites. Again the natural presumption is that 'the
ark of Cod', or 'the divine ark', is the more original Hebrew term.
It appears that in the earlier form of the slory of the divine ark,
still auested in I Chronicles 13, Yahweh was mentioned only in
connection with bursting out on Uzzah and blessing Obed-Edom.
In the fresh introduction to the ark theme in I Samuel 4-6, cre-
atively built from themes in 2 Samuel 5-6 (rivalry bet\\leen Israel
and the Philistines; and the divine power associated with the ark),
we find similar variation bet\\'een 'divine ark' (mostly in 1 Sam.
4-5) and 'ark of Yahweh' (mostly in ) Sam. G)-and this again
suggests the tenacity within Samuel of the original expression 'ark
of God', like that (noted above) of the original expression 'ask
of Cod'.20 If the Chronicler did work from the texts of Judges
and Samuel, then he routinely altered 'Yahweh' of his source to
'Cod', while using Yahweh more than God in the material he
himself added.
It is worth attending to all these perspectives when we move
from 2 Samuel 5-6// I Chronicles 13-16 to read the complex of
variations on a common theme represented by 2 Samuel 7 and 1
Chronicles 17. I did mention this narrative earlier in connection
with 'uncover the ear'. The main divergences bet\veen the refer-
20 It may also suggest that 1 Sam. 6 ""as drafted sepamtcly from I Sam. 4-5.
144 A. GRAEME AULD
ences to the deity (at least those which are not also part of the
few wider differences between these U\fO versions of the slory) are
as follows:
7:2 the ark of God 17:1 the ark of tile cOI'cnant of Yahweh
7:3, 4 Yahweh 17:2, 3 God
7:18, 19 Lord Yahweh 17:16, 17 Yahweh God
7:19 Lord Yah...: eh 17:17 God
7:22 Lord Yahweh 17:20 Yahweh
7:25 Yahweh God 17:23 Yahweh
There appears at first to be little system. However, in the spirit of

my remarks to this point, I might suggest that Samuel here (against
the normal trend) has preserved at the beginning the original 'ark
of God', while the Chronicler represenlS the later adaptation to
'ark of the covenant of Yahweh'. In the following two verses, it is
the Chronicler who preserves the original 'God'. Then, in the
second half of the chapter, each of the instances quoted is in
David's address to the deity. In the context of prayer, it seems
more likely that more fulsome titles would have developed (in
Samuel) rather than be curtailed (in Chronicles). In two of the
five cases, the Chronicler also attests a double form; and in these
cases the 'Yahweh God' he writes is also how the Masoretic tradi-
tion instructs us to read Samuel's 'Lord Yahweh' (adonai eLohim).
It is often said that Samuel-Kings prefer 'Yahweh', and Chroni-
cles 'God'. We are finding instead that both use Yahweh in their
own special material, certainly Samuel to a greater extent than
Chronicles. However, the Chronicler appears to have been more
faithful than Samuel to 'the God' in the text underlying them
both. This can be nicely illustrated again in the story of David's
sin over the census. 2 Sam. 24:10 has 'Yahweh', where the synop--
tic I ehron. 21:8 reads 'the God'. Corresponding to this diver-
gence within shared material, 'Yahweh' occurs in additional
Samuel material in 2 Sam. 24:1, 23, and 'the God' in added Chro-
nicles material in 1 Chron. 21 :7, 15. Nothing so far suggests in
which direction any change has been made. Yet we should note
that it is 'Yahweh' that appears three times in 1 Chron. 21:11,12
within the Chronicler's fuller version of the divine threat pro-
nounced by the seer Gad. It is important to stress again that the
Chronicler exhibits no tendency not to use the divine name
Yahweh. If, on the other hand, we were looking for an example
of possible rewriting towards greater consistency, we should
choose 2 Samuel 24. That version never uses any fonn of' [the]
THE CHRONICLER 145
Cod' on its own, though it does add 'your/my Cod' in 24:3, 24 in

apposition to 'Yahweh' anested on its own in I Chron. 21:3, 24,
as well as use 'Yahweh your Cod' in the more substantial plus 2
Sam. 24:23.
When we turn to the human leader, Samuel-Kings in general
prefer 'the king', but the Chronicler here prefers the proper
name-such as 'David'. Drawing my first examples from the chap-
ter I have just been discussing, 2 Sam. 24:2, 9, 20 have 'the king',
where the synoptic I ehron. 21:2, 4, 21 otTer 'David'. Reinforc-
ing this pattern, 'the king' is a Samuel plus in 24:2, 3, 4, 21, 23.
We should note that I Chronicles 21 is not at all opposed to us-
ing 'the king'-though adminedly the one relevant Chronicles
plus is in I Chron. 21:6, where 'the word of the king' is simply
repeated from the synoptic 21 :4. The Chronicler also retains 'my
lord [the] king' in the synoptic 24:3, 22 /121:3,23. This may be
a particularly significalll piece of evidence, for 'my lord (the]
king' appears nowhere else in Chronicles. It is very common in
substantial Samuel-Kings pluses (52x); but never occurs othenvise
in or near synoptic passages. 21
Some statistics from neighbouring material in Samuel and Kings
can act as a contro!'
'Solomon' is roughly twice as frequent (x45) in the synoptic
ponions of I Kings 3-11 as 'King Solomon' (xIO) and 'the king'
(x14) taken together. However, in the Kings pluses, the name
Solomon (x28) is hardly more frequent than the sum of the other
two (x 13 and x 12). There is a greater preference in these pluses
for use of the title king.
In 2 Samuel 9 and 11-20, the proportions are even more strik-
ing: we find 'the king' or 'my lord the king' or (occasionally)
'King David' some three times as often as the simple name
'David'-and it would be some four times as oflen if it were not
for the exceptional situation in chapters 11·12, where Bathsheba
and Udah and Nathan relate explicitly and repeatedly to 'David'
and not to 'the king' or 'King David'.
Two trails have already led us to the rich and dense account, or
perhaps bener, accounts of David's sin in numbering his people
(2 Sam. 24 and I Chron. 21). We noted that David spoke to
~l The diSlriblll.ion is as follows: 1 Sam. [4xJ; 2 Sam. 3:21; 4:8; 2 Sam. 9-21
[27x, incl. 15:15,21; 16:4,9]: I Kgs 1-2 [14)(, incl. 1:36,37]; I Kgs 20:4, 9; 2 Kgs
6:12,26; 8:5. And the only other biblical occurI'ence is in Dall. 1:10.
146 A. GRAEME AULD
Yahweh in 2 Sam. 24: 10, btll to God in the parallel 1 ehron. 21 :8;
lhal the two pluses in Samuel which spoke of the deity called him
Yahweh (\'Y. 1,23), while the fOUf such pluses in Chronicles used
God twice (vv. 7, 15) and Yahweh u\Tice (vv. 11,12). And we noted
thal, while 'David' gave the inSlmctions in 1 ehron. 21:2 and re-
ceived the report in 21 :5, it was 'the king' in the parallel 2 Sam.
24:2, 9. 2 Samuel 24 is preceded (2 Sam. 9-20) and followed (1
Kgs 1-2) by chapters which oven\lhe!mingly prefer 'the king' to
'David' or 'Solomon'. Many of the divergences over God and
king are in the opening verses, and we find other significant dif-
ferences there too. The following translation offers an overview
LOwards a synopsis of 2 Sam. 24:1-9 and I Chron. 21:1-5, Text
found only in Samuel is italicized; text only in Chronicles is in bold:
Again tlu! anger of Yahweh wttS hot Saran stood up against Israel, and he
incited David against them, saying, 'Go to count Israel anti Judah.' So tlu! king
David said to Joab and the commanders of the ann] who was with him
people, '/Warn through all the tri~ of /srad, from Dan to !J«rslu!ba, Ulld lake a
census of the people, so Owt I may know Ihe nwnbc" oj tlu! jNrJPlt, Go number
Israel from Beersheba to Dan and bring to me and I wiU know their nwn-
ber: But Joab said to the kiflg, 'May Yahweh your God increase tlu! his people
a hundredfold, all/i the t)'IJS 0/ my tord the king suing! are they not, my lord
the king, all of them servants of my lord? But why does my lord the king
seck this? Why should he bring guilt on Israel?' But the king's word pre-
vailed o\'er Joab and the commallllers of Ihe army, So Joab and llu! commanders
oj tk anny wenl out from the presena of Ihe king to take a Ctll.l"US of the people,
0/ Israel. Th~ crossetl tlu! jordan, and begaJl/rom Arotr ... and th~ went out to
the Negeb a/juda}1 at B«rsheb(l. Anti they roamed through all tire land, and went
about in alllsrael, and came back to Jerusalem at the end of nine months lind
twenty days. Joab reponed to the king the number of those who had been
recorded: in aU Israel there were eight eleven hundred thousand soldiers
able to draw the sword, and those of Judah were jive h!Hufred four hundred
and seventy thousand.
These t\yo reports of the census laking are much more differ-
ent from each other than is generally the case in the synoptic
portions of Samuel-Kings and Chronicles, Three sorts of differ-
ence are illustrated in this opening section: the many shorter
pluses; longer pluses like Joab's route in 2 Sam. 24:5-7 (abbrevi-
ated above); and alternative clauses, like the opening words. As
with the stories of Solomon's vision at Gibeon in 1 Kings 3 and 2
Chronicles 1, either the one has been very substantially recast from
the other or-as I think more Iikely--each has been considerably
but less substantially rewritten from a common original. 22 It is
n For a similar discussion of Solomon's vision, see A.G. Auld, Kings without
Privilege (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994), pp. 15-21.
TI-IE CHRONICLER 147
when the t\vo versions are read side by side, and when the reader
focusses on the material they share, that most of their shorter
pluses are shown up as secondary: repeating language from the
common, shared stock of the original 5tOI)'.
What could be more appropriate, when commenting on this
story of all stories shared by Samuel-Kings and Chronicles, than
to play devil's advocate and advance the case that the Chronicler
is often witness to the more original text! I have argued elsewhere
that Satan-role model for any devilish barrister-had a princi-
pal role in the story, and was edited out by the author of Samuel. 23
The opening incitement to count 'Israel' (21:1) meant 'all Is-
rael', as Joab's action and report make clear (21:4, 5). Judah is
subtotalled as a sub-section of Israel; it is not an equal partner
with (northern) Israel, as Samuel both suggests (24:1) and com-
putes (24:9).
Joab was originally accompanied by the commanders of the
'people' (21:2). This common word is used several times in both
versions, in synoptic portions (2 Sam. 24:3, 9, 21 / / I Chron. 21 :3,
5,22) and in pluses (24:2,2,4, 10, 15, 16, 17; and 21:2,17,17).
The 'army', though a well-known word in each of Samuel-Kings
and Chronicles (including all other five synoptic passages ),21 is
used three times in the Samuel version (24:2, 4, 4) but not at all
in the Chronicler's. It is nOl easy to see why the Chronicler would
have expunged each mention of this word from his original.\!;'
Typical of an expansionist writer, the authol- of Samuel does nOl
lose 'people' when replacing it with 'army', but uses the dis·
placed word t.wice in his expansion of David's command (0 Joab
(24:2). He then uses it again in his enlarged report ofJoab's car-
rying out of his master's instructions: in 24:4, 'the people' and
'Israel' are in apposition to each other.
It is harder to decide bet\\'een t.he alternative texts 'and the eyes
of my lord the king seeing' (24:3) and 'are they not, my lord the
king, all of them selvants of my lord' (21:3), which share only the
words 'my lord the king'. The participial expression 'eyes seeing'
~, 'Re-Reading Samuel (I-lislorically): ~Et....' aS mchr NichtwissCIl~', in V. Fritz

and P.R. Da\ies (cds), Tht: Ol'igi1U of/he AllcienllsmelileSlales (jSOTSup, 228; Shef-
field: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996), pp. 160-69.
2~ I Sam. 31:12:2$.1m. 8:9; 1 Kgs.IO:2: 15:20;2 Kgs. 11:15// I Chron.IO:12:
18:9: 2 Chron. 9:1; 16:4: 23:14.
n 'Commanders of lhe people' (I Chron. 21 :2) is admittedly a \"el)' rare ex-
pression, found exactly only in Nell. 11:1.
148 A. GRAEME AULD
is found in other broadly Deuteronomistic contexts, such as Deut.

28:32; Jer. 20:4; 42:2; and. importantly, 1 Kgs 1:48. 26 Given the
influences we have already detected from 2 Samuel 9-20 and 1
Kings 1-2 on the wording of synoptic passages in Samuel, it is far
from impossible that this is a further example.
In principle, the description of joab's route in 2 Sam. 24:5-7
could have been added to the version in Samuel or removed from
the version in Chronicles. The fact that Joab acted under protest
and only uncler royal pressure is nicely suggested in the
Chronicler's minimalist repon of what he did: 'andJoab wenl out,
and went abollt in all Israel, and came to Jerusalem' (21:4b).
Expansionist Samuel explores the implications of the middle
phrase in two ways: immediately after 'went out' it defines 'Israel'
as 'the people' (24:4b); but, after the long territorial insert and
before 'came back to Jerusalem', it resumes the shorter original
by transposing its 'all Israel' into 'all the land' (24:8a). 'All Israel'
preserved by the Chronicler had been ambiguous in its very brev-
ity; both senses are neshed out in Samuel's generous expansion.
Any Answers?
It did not require our discussion of these samples from the David
stories to make it abundantly clear that Chronicles is closely re·
lated to Samuel. However, we have seen reason to believe that the
nature of that relationship is not after all amenable to our open-
ing 'what if. The Chronicler lIsed Yahweh and God interchange.
ably in his own material. Of course, intrusive and wilful rewriting
is not impossible to conceive. Yet it seems unwise to suppose that
he almost routinely altered 'Yahweh' of his source in Samuel,
especially when subject or object of a verb, to 'God'. It seems
unwise to suppose that, when he passed over in silence the sad
story of David and his family, which preferred to talk of 'the king'
than of 'David', he often also altered 'the king' to 'David' in
those neighbouring chapters he retained. What is true of 'the
king' in 2 Samuel 9-20 and I Kings 1-2 is true also of the prefer-
ence of these chapters for 'the people'. And that is yet another
ground for suggesting that 2 Samuel 24--with its alteration of 'Is-
rael' to 'the people'-is, no less than 1 Chronicles 21, an ex-
pansionist rewriting of a shorter shared source.
26 Elsewhere only in Gen. 45:12; Isa. 30:20.

THE CHRONICLER 149
Chronicles is in fact much more closely related to Samuel than

to Joshua, However, the nature of these two relationships is very
different. Chronicles is related to a late or final or post-
Deutel"OllOmistic stage of tile book of Joshua, out-at least ill the
substantial synoptic portions-to a much earlier stage in the de-
velopment of the books of Samuel. In the synoptic chapters, where
the links are obviously closeSt, the Chronicler's version is argu-
ably more conservative than the text of Samuel according to a
whole range of criteria. Then several elements of Samuel's spe-
cial material may themselves have been based on or reshaped in
the light of those synoptic chapters. These Samuel pluses are more
Deuteronomistic than the synoptic portions shared with Chroni-
cles, and even the synoptic pOI·tions are mOI'e 'Detueronomistic',
at least in a minimal sense: they are better integrated in their
wording with the surrounding materials in Samuel-Kings.
What holds for David holds also for Solomon. I have attempted
to show elsewhere that the Chronicler used for his account of
Solomon a source that was markedly shorter and less 'Oeuterono-
mistic' than what we read in 1 Kings 3-11 (whether MT or LXX).27
A critic of this argument has asserted that some of the material
the Chronicler did copy from Kings was added to the slory of
Solomon in Kings still later than the Oeuteronomistic matedal
omitted by the Chronicler. If this could be proved, of course my
case would be damaged; however, the critic furnished no detail. 28
In the stories of the kings that followed Solomon, the inter-rela-
tionships between Kings and Chronicles seem different yet again;
and there is no space to explore these further hel"e, Yet, howevel"
they turn out, they should nOI be allowed to prejudice OUf read-
ing of the earlier evidence. Its tail must nOI be allowed to wag this
dog.
A Belter Question r
Exploring counterfacwals is an c1abol'ate game. BUI, like many
games, il is played wilh serious inlenl. When played with success,
27 Auld. Ki,,~ without J+illilegt, pp. 12-41.

28 J. Van Selers, 'The Chronicler's Account of Solomon's Temple-Building:
A Continuity Th~me', in M.P. Craham, K..C. Hoglund and S.L. McKenzie (cds),
1'ht! Chrollidt!1' as Hi$tQriml (JSOTSup, 238: Sheffield: Shcffidd Academic Press,
1997), pp. 283-300 (286-88).
150 A. GRAEME AULD
dealing in 'what irs' may lead us to put better questions to the

old, long available information. The question this essay has led
me to formulate is: How do comparisons with the books of Chro-
nicles help us to understand better the literary hislory of Joshua,
Judges, Samuel, and Kings? I suspect this is a better way to pro-
ceed than simply to probe the Former Prophets on their own, then
take the results of that operation, as if assured, to a fresh study of
the Chronicler and his sources. 29
ABSTRACT
The Chronicler's pl"CSlIlllCd familiarity with Deuteronomy, Joshua,Judges, and

I Samuel is Ilrst brieny explored. Closer scrutiny of the Da\id SIory in 2 Samuel
and I Chronicles suggests thaI the Chronicler's use of 2 Samuel as source, while
possible, is unlikely. Similar resulLs for lhe St0l)' of Solomon in 1 Kings and 2
Chronicles are noted, And consideralion of the counterfactualleads helpfully 10
a ncw qucstion about the books of the Former Prophets.
:t9 For a first and very pro\'isional sketch of an answcr, see A.G. Auld, 'Thc
DclltcronomislS bctwecn History and Thcology', in A. Lemaire (cd.), CO/Igress
Volumes, Oslo 1998 (Leiden: Brill, ill press).
IF THE LORD'S ANOINTED HAD LIVED
PHILIP R. DAVIES
Uqivmit] of ShtJlidd
First, let me declare that this essay is not about Jesus or his fol-
lowers. Well, not direcLly. But let us, nevertheless. start with the
book of Daniel.
Seventy wecu; are decreed for yOllr people and your holy city: to finish the
trlllugressioll, 10 pUI an cnd 10 Sill, and to atone for iniquity. to bring in
everlasting righteousness, lO seal both vision and prophet, and to anoint
the most holy. Know therefore :llId understand: that frOIll the lillie til", the
word wenl out 10 restore and rebuild Jerusalem, ulIlil the time of an
(1II0;nIM prince, there shall be seven weeks; and for sixty-two weeks it shall
be buill again with streets and moat. but in a troubled lime. Mler the sixty-
tWO weeks, an anoinlLd Qnt $h,111 iN tv.t off, and shall have nothing, and the
lroops of lhe prince who is to come shall destroy I..he cily and lhe sanctuary.
hs end shall come ....ith a flood, and lO the end shall be ....' ar. Desolal.ions
are decreed. He shall make a strong CO\'enaOl ....i dl man)' for one .....eek. and
for half of the .....e ek he shall make sacrifice and offering cease; and in their
place shall be an abomination that desolates, umil lhe decreed end is
poured OUI upon Iht" dM.nl:l!or (Oan. 9:24-7).1
This is how an unknown second-eentury BeE writer in the fashion-

able genre of the time, apocalypse, summarized the world history
of the chosen people (5C. his own). He has a neat scheme here:
two (high-priestly) 'anointed ones' (Le., real messiahs) stand as
the pillars. Seven weeks out of seventy elapse before the first, and
eight weeks are left after the death of the second (or, to ensure
complete symmetry, we could count seven weeks before the final,
desolating last week).
Indeed, this subsequently canonized book alludes again to the
destruction of the anointed one (11:22): 'Armies shall be utterly
swept away and broken before him; and the prince of the covenant
as well.' In Daniel's apocalyptic scheme the removal of the high
priest was, like the desecration of the sanctual)', a signal of the
final act of his play about history. If the desecration of the altar
removes the true cult, the depanure of the anointed 'prince'
threatens the covenant. The end of history cannot, byapocalyp-
tic logic, be far away.
I Tmnslalion of biblical passages (as lhroughOlU) from lhe NItS", ...ith the
substitution here of 'Ihe mast holy" for 'a masl holy place' (v. 24).
152 PHILIP R. DAVIES
History, however, did continue. Yet momentous events followed

the inscribing of this inaccurate but parLly encouraging prognos-
tication. For one thing, the largest Judean kingdom in history
sprouted for a century or so, incorporating Idumaea and Galilee,
not to mention other parts of Palestine and Transjordan. Another
century more saw the growth of a new world religion that was in
time to dominate the Roman empire-and its successors, first in
the continent of Europe, then in its largest offshore island, and
finally in a New World of which the Romans were blissfully igno-
rant.
But who was the 'anointed one' whose death was for the
writer(s) of Daniel so significant for the fate of the world? The
majority of learned commentators on Daniel 2 agree that he was
called Honi (or 'Onias' in Greek) and was the last of a long line
of hereditary high priests of whom we know virtually nothing,
except that we call them, after him, 'Oniads'. The brief legend
of the life and death of Onias III (the numbering cannot be cer-
tain, since we have no direct knowledge of his predecessors) is
narrated in 2 Maccabees 1-4, a book written by a Jew but not
thought by Jews worth preserving (just because it was in Greek?).
According to this account, Onias was the high priest under
Seleucus IV, the relatively benign successor of Antiochus III, who
had gained Palestine from the Ptolemies as part of his kingdom.
Onias's traditional high-priestly authority over the temple market
was being challenged by the proslales Simon, a member of the
ambitious lay family of Tobiah (said by 2 Macc. 3:4 to be of the
tribe of Benjamin). To further his aims, he incited Apollonius, the
siralegos of Coele-5yria and Phoenicia, to confiscate certain temple
funds. HeliodoJ'Us, the man subsequently instructed to ransack the
sanctuary, was resisted by Onias, who led the priesthood and the
people in a protest. Assailed during his attempt by an angel, and
close to death, l-Ie1iodoJ'Us was spared by the prayers of Onias and
acknowledged the power of the sanctuary's deity.
Simon then accused Onias of having initiated Heliodorus's
mission and caused such disaffection that Onias appealed to the
2 See, conveniently, the recent fine commentary by Collins (Collim 1993),

p. 356 and nn. 90 and 91.
It" THE LORD'S ANOINTED HAD LIVED 153
king. But Se1eucus was murdered and his successor, Antiochus IV,
gave the high priesthood of jerusalem to Onias's brother, jason,
presumably in return for a bribe. It must have been about this
time that Onias fled and sought sanctuary in Antioch. But three
years later, Jason was in turn replaced by Menelaus, the brother
of Simon (and thus not of the tribe of Levi, let alone the Oniad
dynasty), who stole vessels from the temple. Onias protested, but
was induced to leave his sanctual)' and, in 171 BeE, was assassi-
nated by Menelaus's deputy Andronicus, a crime that appalled
Jews, non:Jews, and even, we are told, the arch-villain Antiochus
himself, who had the murderer killed at the scene of his crime.
The stOI)', as said earlier, is packed with all kinds of legend. We
can hear scriptural echoes of the angelic attack on Sennacherib's
army, the sparing of Abimelech's life by Abraham, the treacher-
ous assassination of joab beside the altar, and the conversion of
the non-Jew after a miraculous experience (instances found in
Daniel, Judith, etc.). But this story is nearly all we have. We find
nothing about Honi/Onias in I Maccabees, and josephus gives
us very little more: he says (Antiquities XII.4.1o-ll) that Onias suc-
ceeded Simon as high priest in Seleucus's reign, and received a
letter from the Spartans. But he then resumes his long narrative
of the family of Tobias, in which he has been principally inter·
ested (and whence the villainous Simon), and opens his fifth book
of Anliquilies with ule bare statement;
About lhis lime, upon the death of Onias the high pricst, thcy gavc thc
pricsthood 10 jcsus his brothcr. BUI this jesus, who "'as the brOlher of
Onias, was strippcd of the high priesthood by Ihe king, who was al1gry with
him and gal'e it 10 his younger brolher, whose name was also Onias. jesus
ch,lIlged his namc 10 jason, and his brother was called r-,·lenclaus.
There is no hope of reconciling the discrepancies between 2

Maccabees and Josephus. Neither writer, in any case, cares to sac-
rifice colour to truth. But both of them agree, and therefore so
do nearly all subsequent commentators, that a civil war between
the followers of Jason and Menelaus broke out, and Ulat the son
of Onias III, appropriately known as Onias IV, fled to Egypt and
built a temple there.:!
But it is with the death ofOnias III that the doors will, as it were,
slide open again.
, \Vell. so says josephus in Allliquities XII.9.7. Howcver. in \\Iar VII.IO.2 he

says that it was founded by Onias HI, which looks Icss probable. The discrepancy
should perhaps be viewed as ,u'ithmetical rather lhan hislOrical.
Honi was, it was generally recognized even at the time, the one
person capable of keeping things together. He was a charismatic
figure, a poweri'ul and respected figure. The long line to which
he had belonged had almost certainly been loyal (by choice or
duty) to the Ptolemies for just over a century, just as they were
now loyal to the Seleucids, and as a result of this (or perhaps it
was a cause?) had won from both kingdoms guarantees that the
Judeans could obsclVc their traditional practices. The trappings
of the Creek way of life-gymnasia, theatres, games, ephebeia,
Greek language, literaLUre and philosophy-were making inroads,
but the 'covenant' remained safe with the traditional priesthood,
and the temple remained a reassuring fixed point. There were,
even so, those who welcomed the new opportunities. Greek cities
were not run by priests, but by their citizens, and often enjoyed
some autonomy from the king. The power that the hereditary
priesthood in Jerusalem exercised over economic and political,
as well as religious, affairs was resented by some others who gazed
at the opportunities of life in a Greek polis. In particular, the
Tobiad family, whose residence was anoss the Jordan (at what is
now called 'Araq el Emir), but who maintained a great interest in
Judean affairs. 4 had gained considerable power; one of them.
Joseph, had acquired tax-farming rights for all of Palestine from
the Ptolemies, incurring the enmity of his brothers. With the aims
of this family many of the merchant and landowning classes would
probably have agreed."
Yet lhere were olhers, no doubt including members of lhe
priesthood and probably a majority of the farmers, who had no
wish to alter the way of life to which they were accustomed, and
saw no benefits in the way of life of the Greek cities. Onias III
therefore presided over a rift, and one that had probably been
widening since early in the Ptolemaic period, when the impact of
the Greek world began to make itself felt even in the villages,
thanks to Ptolemaic bureaucracy (inherited in part from the Egyp-
tian tradition). There is scholarly disagreement, nevertheless, over
• It is widely surmised that this family was descended from Tobiah the Am-
monite, represented as an opponent of Nehemiah (Neh. 2;10,19, etc.). Alterna-
tivel}', the story of Nehemiah may be based upon this family, though, perhaps
signifirarltly. N..lwmiah is nor a priest. though Ill" arp(':I1~ 10 rOrllrol Ilw mark..t
in Jerusalem (Nch. 13).
S On thc social SlrUClUt·C ofJud<lh, including the HelleniSlic-Roman period,
sec Kippcnberg 1978.
It' THE LORD'S ANOINTED HAD LIVED 155
which of the two sides (if we may simplify the various interests into
the two attitudes just outlined) was responsible for the interven-
tion of Antiochus IV and thus the subsequent war. Bickerman's
classic study (Bickermiln 1979) would place the blame:: 011 the
Tobiad family and Menelaus, who were, he thinks, instrumental
in inciting Antiochus IV to suppress forcibly those who resisted
their programme for the development ofJudean culture. On the
other hand, Tcherikover (Tcherikover 1959: 186-203) concludes
that it was a group called the Hasidim, devoted to resisting Greek
culture and anxious to restore the state of affairs existing under
Onias III, that ignited the intervention of Antiochus. By making
religion the key to their posture, the Hasidim encouraged Antic-
chus to suppress the cult. Many other opinions have been ex-
pressed (for a recent discussion, see Grabbe 1992: 1,246-56).
If the impulses that led to the civil 'V<H, then to the guerilla wal"
led by the family of Mattathias, and thus to the Hasmonean dy-
nasty, are still matters of dispute, it is very probable that they
emanate largely from a process of disintegration among the popu-
lation of Judah, brought on by the pressure of external factors
and internal rivalries. For there were clearly many issues raised by
Ule external and internal pressures, and many occasions and pre-
texts for disagreement, even sectarianism. For it was probably
during this panicular period, over which Honi exercised his priest-
hood, that the question of what rons/ituted Judaism became politi-
cally and culturally a dominant one. Perhaps we should even say
that it was now that the concept of 'Judaism' itself (a term first
used in 2 Maccabees, in opposition to 'Hellenism') became a
matter for self-conscious definition.
In view of this plurality of interests, the Hasmoneans achieved
their success through a series of alliances6 that involved them, in
the wake of their success, in both compromises with their support-
ers and confrontations with their opponents (and sometimes vice
versa). The creation of an independent (sometimes quasi~indepen·
dent) political state that they achieved, and its enlargement by
military conquest, was accompanied by measures towards a religious
unification, an aim at an official definition of what 'Judaism'
should be. This was pursued partly through the suppression of
heterodoxy or heteropraxy; by the sponsorship of one major party
(but here there Wl'lS incnnsl;.Jllry l'IS spnll!wr.<;hip shiflt>c1 from
6 For a studr of these, sec Sic\'crs 1990.

Sadducees to Pharisees and back); by the promotion of education

through Jewish literature (and thus. more or less directly, a con-
scious process of canonizing, aided by the creation of a Temple
libra'}'). But the hislO'}' of the dynasty shows the fissures that could
not be welded over, and of these the most destructive were within
the family itself, erupting in fraternal rivalries that brought the
country again to virtual civil war. The inevitable 31Tival of Pompey,
though not in any way signalling for the first time the claims of
Roman sovereignty (which already existed: see Hayes and Mandell
1998), the accession of Herod and his successors, direct Roman
rule ofJudah, the war, destruction of the Temple, the bar Cochba
revolt and rabbinic Judaism are all direct resulLS of a disintegra-
tion of Judean culture in the second quarter of the second cen·
tury BCE, partly under the pressures defining 'Judaism' iLSelf.
There were, of course, economic, social, and religious factors
too-far too many to be mentioned, let alone analysed here.
\I
But let us now suppose that Onias had not been assassinated.
Clearly, his influence, even in exile (and here we assume some
degree of authenticity in the account of 2 Maccabees) must have
been considerable, even in self-imposed exile in Antioch. Only his
removal, it seems, could make Menelaus feel secure. But Onias,
warned in a dream, evaded the fate intended for him, and re-
turned to Jerusalem. With the support of much of the populace,
and also of his brother Jason, Menelaus was overcome and fled.
The false rumours of the death of Antiochus that reached Jerusa-
lem not long afLerwards were welcomed, but little trouble ensued;
for after all, a respected high priest was in charge of affairs. and
Antiochus had not been induced to intelvene in the affairs of
Judah. Let us assume, with the majority, that he was not, after all,
an ideologue. But unrest continued in Jerusalem between those
who wished to see no further changes in what they regarded as
their traditional lifestyle and those who wished to see Judean cul-
ture assume more of the characteristics of the neighbouring lands
that were welcoming Greek ways of life.
And indeed, if such other societies could integrate Greek cus-
toms without losing their own distinctiveness, why not the Judeans
also? True, Judah had been something of a backwater during the
Persian period. But under the Ptolemies there had been steady
IF THE LORD'S ANOINTED HAD LIVED 157
change. There was, of course, already a considerable population

of persons who regarded themselves as belonging to the ellmos of
Judeans but were living in Egypt, Syria, Babylon. These communi-
ties had been created through milital)' service, trade, slaveI)', and
economic emigration (see Hengel 1974), and were in some kind
of communion with the temple in Jerusalem, which they some-
times visited. They accommodated themselves to Greek customs
in va'1rlng ways, as we can learn from their literature, their picto-
rial art, their inscriptions. The issues of the so-called 'Maccabean
war' were, for Jews beyond Judah, non-issues. Of course, the Se-
leucid annexation of Palestine slightly increased the westward now
from Mesopotamia towards the Mediterranean coast, and some
religious traditions that were brought from there and absorbed
into Judean 'Judaism,' such as the veneration of Enoch as a dei-
fied wise man, thus needed to be accommodated. But since Judah
did not swell beyond its long held borders and nirt with imperial
pretensions as it would have done under the Hasmoneans, and
since that dynasty did not inflame tensions between the various
Judean tendencies through its fluctuating patronage, internal
strife and misappropriation (as some saw it) of the high priest-
hood, the culture (held together by the cult) ofJudah was able to
tolerate different 'Judaisms' under an Oniad dynasty that
preached 'traditional Judaism' while allowing 'modernization'
(what under the present United Kingdom government would be
called a 'third way').'
Onias and his son achieved stability by yielding control of much
of the economy to the Tobiads, leaving control of interest rates,
as it were, to an independent bank. A new l)Otis, Magnesia, was built
on Mount Scopus. Onias IV was the kind of man who would not
have shirked at going to Egypt and building another sanctuary.
But, remaining in Jerusalem, he wisely refrained from regulating
the temple cult too exclusively. There had been different cui tie
traditions since Persian times, and many groups even followed a
Seleucid-type calendar based on lunar months instead of the tra-
ditional one based on a solar year. Not all Jews, therefore, ob-
served their festival days simultaneously. Keen to preserve the
inclusivity of Lhe Jerusalem sanctuary, but anxious to avoid the
curious and often unattractive arrangements that would ultimately
deface the 'Church of the Holy Sepulchre' (which would not have
7 Or 'New Zadokitism' if you prefer.

been built, of course), Onias allowed different rites to be prac-

tised side by side. There were two Days of Atonement, and two
entirely different beginnings to each new year, one in spring, one
in autumn. Ai; today, Jerusalem was a multilingual and multi-
calendrical city, and the pilgrimage industry was vigorously devel-
oped, though not with the zeal or nair of a Herod. Plans for an
enlarged temple were indeed drawn up, but never fulfilled. For
the leading priests could not find someone with suitable architec·
tural and engineering vision, even though they looked, as had
Solomon, to their neighbours.
Alllagonism between Judeans and their neighbours was not
particularly noticeable. One can see, with the value of hindsight,
some if not all of the reasons for this. A potential civil war had
been averted, and with it the disturbances between Judeans and
non:ludeans in the newly founded Greek cities being built in Pal-
estine and Transjordan. With no Judean wars of conquest, such
as the Hasmoneans pursued, there were few resentments arising
from forcible conversions or divided loyalties. Nor did any poten-
tially anti:ludean religion ever lake root in the region, let alone
conquer the Roman empire. Messianic claimants there were in
abundance, but under the Oniads their claims found little echo
among the disaffected: neither political nor religious circum-
stances were distressing to the majority ofjudah's inhabitants. The
Roman empire would, of course, sooner or later adopt a religion
of its own, and a monotheistic one was most suitable for reOect-
ing the traditions of the emperor cult: Mithraism might have been
the most attractive candidate. But toleration of ancient cults would
continue. The effective division of the Roman empire by Diocle-
tian may still have left Byzantium as the capital of an empire sur-
viving the onslaught of Celts, Goths and HUllS. But Palestine, of
no particular significance to Byzantium, would have belonged to
the Sassanids. After all, these, and their predecessors, had long
seen in judaism little more than a curious local version of Zoroas-
trianism.
But, even if a Muhammad were still to rise, he would be in-
structed in judaism alone. Might a more accommodating Arabian
judaism have allowed another prophet in its midst, as Muhammad
himself wished? Would the prophet have been accepted, rather
than rejected, by the jewish u-ibes that he subsequently massacred
before reorienting the qibla from jerusalem to Mecca?
Without the two centuries of judean fragmentation that fol-
IF THE LORD'S ANOINTED HAD LIVED 159
lowed the untimely death of the Oniad messiah (a real 'suffering

servant') would Judean society have torn itself apart, necessitat-
ing the magnificent achievements of the rabbis, who built an in-
tellectual and practical system of religion the equal of any other?
Probably not. Nor, of course, would the people ofJudah and those
who called themselves Jews' beyond have been systematically re-
jected and persecuted by Christianity. Had there been a Jesus
movement', it would likely have been a short scherzo.
What sort of a world would the twentieth century (as it would
not have been known) witness? The 'greatest manuscript discov-
ery of modern times', the Dead Sea Scrolls, would never have been
recovered, because never written. It could be added that six mil-
lion more Jews (but out of a much smaller total) would have died
a natural death. But this is unnecessary to add: there would have
been few Jews in Europe anyway. Why should they settle in any
large numbers in Europe?
What, then, would be the Judaism of our own day? Would it in
fact survive without a Christianity? One hears these days ofJews in
what is now known as Israel spending their evenings stitching gar-
ments for the priests; I see in shop windows in Jerusalem pictures
of the Third Temple. If these plans succeed, it is going to be worse
for lambs and goalS than it is for turkeys at Christmas or Thanks-
giving. But some Jews are indeed waiting for their own version of
the millennium, while many Christians begin to disturb the peace
of Jerusalem in their eagerness to make the front row for the
Parousia Show.
It might, it would, have been otherwise. Third temple? Who is
to say the Second Temple might not still be standing, fighting with
Gerizirn for the Mithraic tourists?
ABSTRACT
The assassination of a Jewish high pdesl in 171 HCE removed the one figure
who might have been able lO unitc lhc Jews of Judah and successfully mediate
betweCn them and the Scleucid king. Had this popular charaCl.cr sun'hoed and
rcturned to Judah, the successful revolt of a Maccabean-Icd Judcan faction against
the Scleueids would probably not have happened, and there would have been no
Hasmoncan dynany, no interlude of national indepcndence and a different his-
tory of I'elations \\ith Rome, one thaI did not result in loss of land or temple (or
priesthood). What kind of Judaism, almost certainly without Christianity (and
without Islam?) would have persistcd? What kind of religion would a ConStanunc
have officially adoptcd (if ally)? What sort of Western civilization, if any. might
have rcsulted?
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Barr, James
1985 'The Question of Rdigious Influence: The Ca.'lC of Zoroastrianism,Ju-
daism and Christianity', JAAR 53:201-35.
Bickcrman, EJ.
1979 The God oJ the Maccabees (Leiden: Brill).
Cohen, SJA.
1987 From the Maccabees /0 the Mishnah (Library of Early Christianity, 7; Phila-
delphia: Westminster Press).
Collins.John J.
1993 f)anie{ (Henncncia; Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress Press).
Davies, W,D. and Louis Finkelstein, cds.
1989 The Cambridge History a/Judaism, vol 2: The Hellenjsli~ Age (Cambridge;
Call1bridge Ulli\'crsilY Press),
Goldstein, Jonathan A.
1976 I Maccabus (Anchor Bible, 41; Garden City, NY: Doubleday).
1983 II Maccabees (Anchor Bible, 41A: Garden City, NY: Doubleday).
Grabbe, L.L.
1992 Judaism Jrom C)'ffiS /0 Hadriml (2 vals; Minneapolis: Fortress Press).
Hayes, John H. and Sara Mandell
1998 The jewish Pro/lIe in CltlS!>ical Antiquity (Louisville: Weslminster/john
Knox).
Hengel, Martin
1974 judaism arid Hellenism: Studies in Their Encount~ in Palestillt during the
Early Hellenistic Period (2 vols; London: SCM Press, translated from
lhe second Gennan edilion. 1973).
Kippenberg, H.G.
1978 lUligion rmd Kfassenbildung im antikt11 judtia (StUNT; Gotlingen:
Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2nd edn. 1985).
Nodel, Etienne
1997 A Search for the Origins ofJudaism: From joshua to the MIShnah (JSOT Sup.
248; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press).
Sievers, joseph
1990 The Hasmo7lealls alld Their SlIpport~s (Allanta: Scholars Press),
Tcherikovcr, VA.
1959 Hellenistic CiviliUltio'l and the JI!fOS (Philadelphia: jewish Publication
Sociely).
WHAT IF LUKE HAD NEVER MET THEOPHILUS?
LOVEDAY CA. ALEXANDER

U""Xrsll] oj Shiffrdd
Asking the 'what if?' questions of virtual hislOI)' is a way of rub-

bing OUf noses in history's essential contingency-in the faCllhat
things could have been different, that human choices (among
other contingencies) aClually malter. That is as true within a theo-
logical framework as any other. Personhood means the possibility
of refusal as well as the possibility of assent; and one of the mys-
teries of revelation (theologically speaking) is that it takes place
in a medium as profoundly conditioned as human language, in
particular languages belonging to particular cultures and societ-
ies. And of all history's contingencies. those of aulhorship seem-
at least to those of us who are aUlhors-Lhe most precarious imag-
inable. So many things conspire against the writing of any given
text: there are an infinite number of wa}'S in which it might not
happen, an infinite number of other combinations of words than
the one that finally goes to press, an infinitude of tasks more ur·
gent, more imistent (or simply less demanding) than sitting down
to write.
With Luke we are dealing with an author who seems particu-
larly sensitive to the delicate combinations of forces, both corn·
nlllllal and individual, that hedge about the articulation of the
word. Luke's Jesus sLOry is swaddled in successive layers of dis-
course: much of it is 'un discours qui porte sur un discours', to
borrow Genette's phrase. l The whole of his second volume (be·
yond the first eleven verses) is a discourse not about Jesus but
about people talking about Jesus, Jesus in quotation marks. The
lavish use of direct speech in Acts ensures that we have plenty of
dramatic opportunities to see this secondary discourse in action:
the text foregrounds the activity of speaking the gospel stOI)' and
shows how it changes and adapts to different cultural contexts.
I G. (km:U<:, &ail.> (P.lli~. du $cui!. 1987), pp. 376-77. Sec further L.eA.
Alexander, 'Reading Lukc-Ac(.5 From Back To Frolll', in j. VerhC)'dcn (cd.), TM
UnilJ 01 Lu~Ac:ts (BETL; U:UVCII: Peeters, fonhcoming).
162 LOVEDAY C.A. ALEXANDER
The opening chapters of the Gospel foreshadow this by focussing

on !.he Baptist and the circle of 'prophets' (Zechariah and Eliza·
bern, Simeon and Anna) who all in their different ways talk about
Jesus: the real subject of the Gospel does not come on stage as a
speaking charaCler until chapter 4. This framework of second-
order discourse (people talking about Jesus) appears in the Gos--
pel preface (Luke 1:14) in the Conn of 'the lI'adition handed down
to us by the original eyewirnesses and ministers of the word' (Luke
1:2). But now the tradition itself has already become pan of the
past, receding behind the third-order discourse of the 'we' who
have received the tradition and the 'many' who have attempted
to put it into narrative form (Luke 1:1).2 'Attempted' sounds
rather pejorative, but perhaps it only indicates that Luke is aware
of the difficulties inherent in the enterprise; at any rate, he can·
not be entirely disapproving of their efforts, because he has de-
cided to have a go at doing the same thing. writing up an orderly
and accurate account for Theophilus of the 'business that has
been fulfilled in our midst' (Luke 1:3).
Unlike John's eternally pre-existent Logos, then, Luke's Gos-
pel is presented as the product of a particular time and place, a
tradition whose sunrival and progress could not (humanly speak-
ing) have been predicted. The long dramatic narrative of Paul's
shipwreck en route to Rome (Acts 27-28) emphasizes the precari-
ousness of the process, the physical vulnerability of the bearer of
the word. If the narrative of Acts could be entitled 'How We
Brought the Good ews from Jerusalem to Rome', the shipwreck
evokes the subtitle 'By the Skin of Our Teeth' (though the effect
is somewhat dissipated by the discovery at 28:15 that there are
already 'brethren' in Rome). The Gospel preface, however, seems
to allow for a greater element of precariollsness in the produc-
tion of this particular performance of the Jesus stOIY. True, there
is a tradition, and there are by now 'many' other accounts of it in
existence: the word is on the street, and all attempts to suppress
it have been in vain (Acts 28:31). But the existence of Luke's own
written version is the result of an entirely personal decision: £60;£
XQI-LOl, 'it seemed good to me also' (Luke 1:3), the standard clas-
sical formula for a decision made by the normal rational processes
! For a detailed commentary on these \·ersc:s. cr. LC.A. Alexander, The Prtf
au 10 Lulu's CDspd: Lilt:mry Gonwnt;on and Socia/ Gonlat in Lukt 1, /-4 and Acts /. /
(SNTSMS, 78; Cambridge: Cambridge Uni\'ersilY Press. 1993), pp. 102-42.
WHAT IF LUKE HAD NEVER MET THEOPHILUS? 163
of the human mind. The MuralOrian Canon seems to underline

this humanistic aspect of the composition of Scripture (Lucas isle
medicus ... nomine suo ex opinione conscripsit), but other early read-
ers clearly found it more problematic: some Old Latin manuscripts
of Luke 1:3 add et spiritui sanclo, echoing the doubly-determined
decision of Acts 15.28, where the human processes of decision·
making in council, by discussion and debate, are supplemented
by direct divine guidance. 3 But although Luke is very ready to
identify the intervention of the Spirit in the decisions taken by
his characters (e.g. Acts 13:14; 16:6-10), he does not claim such
direct inspiration for his own writing. The decision to write Luke-
Acts is taken on his own responsibility. The only motivation he
gives (apart from an implied desire to emulate and perhaps bet·
tel' the efforts of the 'many') is that provided by Theophilus. This
is a communication dependent on the conscious choice of its
writer and written for the needs of a particular reader: 'it seemed
good to me to write it all up for you, most excellent Theophilus,
in order that you might recognize the reliability of the instruc·
tion you have received' (Luke 1:3-4).
Here, as Joel Green observes, 'Luke is apparently recognizing
the role of Theophilus in providing inspiration or at least impe·
(US for his writing' ,4 making explicit the social embedded ness
implicit in every act of speech. But is this element of contingency
real, or only apparent? It may be objected that the role of the
dedicatee is not to be taken seriously in a literal)' produclion of
this kind. Luke's substantial two-volume work is not by any stretch
of the imagination a private letter: the address to Theophilus is a
convention, part of the recognized literary etiquette of the Craeco-
Roman world. 5 Some authors using this convention clearly do not
expect their addressee actuaJly to go to the lengths of readhlg the
work presented to them. Pliny the Elder explicitly dissuades Titus
from reading one of his more technical works: 'It was written for
the common crowd, for the mob of farners and craftsmen, and
~ MuralOrian Canon cited in K. Aland, Synopsis Qualluor t.vangeliornlll (SHill·

gan: Bible SocielY, 5th cdn, 1968), p. 538. The guidance iuvoked in Acts 15:28
probably refers to lhe cvents of ch. 10, which lhe assembly has laken inlo ac·
count in making its decision (cr. 11:18; 15:8) .
• Joel B. Green, The Gospel of Luke (NICNT: Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997).
p. 44.
~ 1 have lried to analyse some of lhe ways lhis cOllvemion worked ill The PreI
au, pp. 56-63.
164 LOVEDAV C.A. ALEXANDER
then for those with leisure for study'.6 In this sense literary dedi-
cation is a social fiction: the aul.hor and me addressee are both
real people. but the implied one-to-one relationship ('1 am writ-
ing this for )'ou') uses simple language to mask a much more
complex social situation. Nevenheless, it would be a mistake to
rule OUl of court Lhe possibility that some dedicatees did in some
ways act as a catalyst for the production of the book dedicated to
them. Precisely how we see this relationship working in Luke's case
depends to a large extent on who we think Theophilus was.
Christian tradition has never, so far as I can tell, taken Theo-
philus seriously at all, even as a reader: there is no Saint Theophi-
Ius, no attempt to discover sanctified bones or to find him a place
(like Onesimus) in the hierarchies of church history. Scholars have
speculated since the eighteenth century that he might have been
a Roman magistrate, perhaps the very one detailed to examine
the legal case for Paul's appeal. 7 There is however, no real evi·
dence for this romantic view, and most New Testament scholars
now would echo Barrett's wry comment: 'No Roman official would
have filtered out so much of what to him would be theological
and ecclesiastical rubbish in order to reach so tiny a grain of rei·
evant apology'.8 But the vocabulary Luke uses of Theophilus is
well paralleled in the dedications of a wide range of technical lit·
erature: it belongs not so much to a particular literary genre as to
a particular social context, pan of the courtesy of intellectual
exchange between authors and their friends or patrons in the
wider society.9 Theophilus, on this view (as I have suggested else-
where), parallels figures like Galen's friends and patrons Bassus
and Boethus, amatcur afficionados of medical theory who encour·
aged Galen to write up his lecture notes into something more
substantial. lo He could well have been the patron of a house
church, providing a social location for the performance of Luke's
narrative at Christian meetings not unlike thc symposia of pagan
6 Pliny, Nal. Hisl. pref. 6; Alexander, The PreJace, pp. 57-58; HJ. Cadbu.,.., The
Alalling oj LuJte..AclS (London: SPCK, 1927). pp. 202·204.
7 cr. HJ. Cadbu.,.., 'The Purpose Expressed in Luke's Preface' (The Expositur
XXI (1921], pp. 43141 (437)), ciling C.A. Heumann in Bib!iolhua Brtmensis
[Class. i"., faK, 3 (1721 »). See further Cadbur)', The MaAing oj Lu..te-Acb, p. 315.
• C.K. Barren, Lulie Ihe His/orion in IUcenl Study (London' Epwonh Pre",
1961), p. 63.
, Alexander, The PrtJact, pp. 187-200. a. Barbara Gold, l.iltrory Potronogr in
Grtta or.d R/J~ (Chapel Hill: Uni\'ersity of North Carolina Press, 1987).
It Alexander, The PreJou, pp. 192-93.
WHAT iF' LUKE HAD NEVER MET THEOPHILUS? 165
society. Gerald Downing has provided an engaging and persua-

sive pictul"e of such a performance. 11
I would be inclined now to suggest a second possibility. Thea-
philus' name is not Latin but Greek, and it is one which (while
not exclusively Jewish) seems to have been popular among helle-
nized Jews. Creek inlellectuals in Rome, as Bowersock observed
long ago, tended to congregate around patrons from their own
part of the empire. 12 We might take seriously the possibility that
Theophilus is being used by Luke not so much as a back-door
introduction to the Roman corridors of power but for what he is
in his own right-that is (let us hypothesize), as a prominent and
amenable representative of the same Jewish community in Rome
to which Luke has Paul make his last impassioned plea for hear-
ing in Acts 28. If this scene is a window into the real intended
audience of Luke's work (as I am increasingly inclined to think it
may be), then we might see Luke's relation to Theophilus as a
humbler parallel to Josephus' relations with the Herodian family
in Rome in the 80s and 90S.!"1 Like Josephus, desperate to estab-
lish his credibility in the wake of his disastrous war record, so
Luke's Paul, at the end of Acts, makes his final apologia not to any
Roman magistrate but to the leaders of the Roman Jewish com-
munity, who know little of Paul or his gospel except that it is a
'sect' (alpEOl.£)-that is, a sect ofJudaism-that is 'everywhere spo-
ken against' .14 This could well be a dramatic represelllation of the
situation Luke is trying to address a decade or so later.
Our estimate of Theophilus' role in the genesis of Luke-Acts
11 Gcrald Downing, 'Thcophilus's First Reading of Luke-AclS', in C.M. Tuckett

(ed,). Luke's Literary Achievement (jSNTSS. 116: Sheffield: Sheffield Mademic
Press, 1995), pp. 91-\09.
I~ G.W, Uowersock, Greek SalJ!lists ill /hf Rama" Empire (Oxford: Clarendon
PI'CSS, 1969), p. 88: Alexandcr, The I'rej(la, p. 61.
13 Cf. Jos., Vito 359, 362-67. Cf. Cadbul)'. The Makillg aJ Luke·Acts, pp, 240-4\,
on Luke's intcreSl in Herodian maners. to which should be added the remark·
able scene in Acts 26 where Paul, though ostensibly on trial before the Roman
go\'ernor, addresses his entire speech to Agrippa. For a writer of Lukc's sophis-
tication, it is surely not without intent that Agrippa COIliCS at the end to exclaim,
'Almost you would pcrsuade mc to bccome a Christian' (26:28), Arguably, that
is exactly thc kind of endorscmcnt that Luke is looking for. Notc thai Cadblll)'
also to}'s with the idca of a westCl"ll (Italian) location for Theophilus (The M(lk-
illg aj Lukt-Acts, pp. 241-42).
I~ AclS 28:22. Cf. L.C.A. Alexander, 'Thc AclS of thc Apostlcs as an Apolo-
gctic Texl', in M.Jo Edwards, M, Goodman, C. Rowland (cds.), Apolagtllf.S in /h,.
!tam(ln Empirt: I'ug(lns, jeu's, (llld Chris/ialls (Oxford: Oxford Univcrsity Press,
1999), pp. 15-44.
will vary according to which of these pictures we find more plau-

sible. The key 1O Theophilus' role in the first case lies in the words
1t€QL WV xm:TJX~e'l~ Aoywv (Luke 1:4), 'the words in which you have
been instructed'. Like the auditors addressed by Galen and
Quintilian, this addressee is someone who has already heard the
substance of the slory Luke is about to telJ: in this sense (pace
Downing), he cannot be quite like the Roman host who invites
his gueslS to dinner to hear a new poem or history being per-
formed. He has already been part, on this model, of an audience
listening to Luke's story (xQtTJxTj8f)<; carries an implication of oral-
ity), But that story might never have been committed to paper if
Theophilus (perhaps a more literate member of the group, per-
haps a man with space to house a library) had not asked Luke for
clarification, for the ao<paMw. of seeing the material in a written
form. Stories like ulis are told, in tradition, of the genesis of other
Gospels: Clement has Mark writing down Peter's preaching at the
request of 'certain Caesarean equites' .15 We are often reluctant to
believe them: it seems too convenient a way to link the non-apos-
tolic Gospel of Mark with the preaching of an apostle. But,
whether or not we accept the apostolic connection, the mecha-
nism itself is well attested: we know that such requests were made,
and that they did have an effect on the production of written texrs,
that is not on the composition of the work but on il:S transition
from the oral to the written medium. 16 The essential contingency
of the process is well brought out in Galen's fascinating little
monograph On His Own Books (De Libris Prapriis):
[3J As for the reason why mallY read my books as their o~n, this you know
rourself, most excellent Bassus; for Ihey were given to friends or pupils
without an inscription (chf./1"i$ epigraphes), simply because they were nOI for
publication (pros ekoosill) but were made for individuals as they requested
memol"3nda of what they had heard. Then when some died, anyone who
got hold of the books and liked them lOok to reading them as their own
... (while others shared them with friends, who then] went home to their
own country and after some delay, one in one place, olle in another,
started to perform their own demonstrations [or: lecture~J from them. In
time they were all detected and a number of people in~cribcd my name on
the texIS which had once ag-J.in been recovered; but when they disco\'ered
15 Clemcnt of Alc"andlia, Adlllllbra/iOlles ad I Petro 5.0, citcd in Aland, SYllofr

sis QlIatlllor Evallgeliorulll, p. 539 (AIc"ander, The Preface, p. 199 n. 18).
'6 For e",lmp!es, cr. L.C.A. Alc"ander, 'Ancient Book Production and lhe
Circulation of lhe Gospels', in RJ Bauckham (cd.), The Gospel.! jor All Chrislians
(Grand R... pids: Eerdlllans, 1998), pp. 71-112, esp. pp. 94-97.
WHAT IF" LUKE HAD NEVER MET THEOPHILUS? 167
that they were different from the texts held by Olhers they brought lhem
to me and begged me 10 correct thcm. 17
Sometimes it is travel that provides the catalyst. People request

written forms of teaching material if they are about to move away,
or if the lecturer is about to leave town; bUl as long as the teacher
is with you, who needs a book? Given the peregrinatory character
of much earl)' Christian teaching, this makes another very plau-
sible motive for a request to have gospel teaching in written form.
But whatever the motive, the role of the dedicatee is a real one:
without it, Luke's particular version of the gospel stOI)' (together
with his unrivalled collection of missionary anecdotes: did you ever
hear the one about the night Peter gOl OUl of jail, and the maid
didn'l have the wil to lel him in, she was so excited?) might never
have achieved the status of a wrilten text.
This is all hypothetical, of course; but it is one way to en flesh
the very real possibility that Luke-Acts might never have existed
as a writlen text. But Theophilus' connection with the content of
that text is still on this model vel)' tangential. If we follow the sec-
ond hypothesis, Theophilus (or at least the community he repre-
sents) could have had a much more substantial impact on the
particular form adopted by Luke's Gospel. The pronounced Jew-
ish flavour of Luke's retelling of the gospel, with its strong em-
phasis on the roots of the Jesus story in biblical history, does not
necessarily rule out a predominantly Gentile audience: cel-lainly
we need to think carefully about the impact of that distinctive
cultural colouring on subsequent generations of Christian readers
lacking any kind of pre-education in the Bible. But the most ob-
vious larget for such a presenlation is aJewish one, and if we think
of Theophilus as a represent.:Hive of a diasporaJewish community
(perhaps in Rome), he could well have been the catalyst for this
and other distinctively Jewish features of Luke's work. Here we
are considering not just the contingency of the transition from
orality to literacy, but the many ways in which the distinctive shape
of a literary text may be shaped by the particular social situation
(on this hypothesis, an apologetic situation) to which it was origi-
nally addressed. I8 In this sense, thinking about Theophilus means
17 Galcn, De /ibm pnJpn·is proem (Kilhll XIX.s-]] = SenlJllI Afinora 11.91-93),

Illy If,lTlslation.
18 Of lhe lIlllllcrous attempts to lillk Lukc's dislinClivc fealures Wilh lhe char-
acter of his audience, cr. especially Philip F. Esler. Cnmmllnity (lnd Gospel in 1.lIke-
tJlinking about the possibility that Luke's distinctive form of the

gospel story (with the sequel that only Luke adds) might never
have existed.
So asking 'What if Luke had never met Theophilus?' is in the
end an invitation to consider the possibility of the non-exislence
of Luke's Gospel and Acts. Once a text exists, it is very difficult to
resist the temptation to regard it as inevitable-especially when it
becomes pan of a canon of sacred texts. Imagining a New Testa~
menL without these two books (which make up a quarter of its
bulk) is difficult, but interesting. The most obvious loss would be
the unique narrative of Acts, the only hinge we have to link the
Gospels and the Epistles. Luke's narrative may be suspect, but it
is very hard to disregard it alLOgether, even for the most sceptical
scholarship; it provides a plausible historical framework for the
Pauline epistles in which details can be questioned but the over-
all framework remains. Yet the possibility of having no narrative
at all is one that we experience without a qualm when dealing
with the lellers of Peter or the Johannine community. What might
the New Testament look like if James, or Peter (or even Jude)
had had a faithful disciple with the literary talents of Luke? What
if we had a narrative of the founding and development of the Jo-
han nine churches rather than the Pauline churches? Certainly the
popular image of the development of Christianity would look very
different ,vithout Luke's concentration on the Pauline networks.
But Luke's contribution to the shaping of the CllI;stian past (or
at least to the popular perception of that past) is only a fraction
of his contribution to the grand narrative of Christendom. I have
been teaching a course on Luke this year with a focus on that
grand narrative, especially as it is embodied in the artistic and
liturgical traditions of the Christian world, and encouraging stu-
dents to reflect on Luke's distinctive contribution to it. WitllOut
Luke's Gospel, there would be no Good Samaritan, no Lost Sheep
or Prodigal Son-all of them now deeply embedded in the sym-
bolic grammar of Western culture. Can we envisage Christmas
without the manger or the shepherds? Somehow the Matthean na-
tivity, for all its narrative vigour, comes across as a fiercer, grim-
Acts: Thr Social and Political Motivations of Lueall Theolo/{J (SNTSMS, 57; Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), and G.E. Slerling, Historiography and
Self-thfinition: Josephos, Luk~Aets alid Apolo~tic Histrniography (NovTSIlP, LXIV:
Leiden: Brill, 1992).
WHAT IF LUKE HAD NEVER I\.U:T THEOPHILUS? 169
mer story without the Lucan elements. The effect is all the more
dramatic if we try to isolate the Lucan elements of the grand nar-
rative within its primary performance location, the liturgical cycles
uf tilt:: CllI"istiau chutches. Without Luke, there is no CluLstmas,
only Epiphany; no feast of Stephen the Deacon, only the martyr-
dom of the Holy Innocents; no Benedictus or Magnificat, and
indeed virtually no New Testament basis for Marian devotion
worth talking about (Matthew subordinates her to Joseph). With·
out Luke, we have no penitent thief at the crucifixion, no Easter
walk to Emmaus-and, perhaps most important, no Ascension and
no Pentecost. The motif ofJesus' exaltation is well embedded in
the New Testament, but it tends elsewhere to be associated with
the resurrection (cf. Rom. 1:4; Phil. 1:9; Rev. 1:12-18). Only Luke
provides the narrative link beh....een the post-Easter appearances
and the heavenly Christ of Christian belief. John's Jesus promises
the Paraclete to his disciples after his 'departure', and breathes
'holy spirit' into them (all except Thomas) on the evening of the
resurrection Sunday (John 14:26; 16:7·15; 20:22).19 Within the
developing Christian tradition, however, the dominant paradigm
is that of the Spirit poured out from heaven by the ascended
Christ, and this is derived from Luke. It is not that this paradigm
cannot be found elsewhere in the New Testament: cf. Eph. 4:7-
12, which uses a christological exegesis of Ps. 68:18 to root it in
Scripture. But it is Luke who supplies the narrative structure which
makes it possible for the faithful to picture and celebrate this
event.
When Irenaeus of Lyons wanted an image for the Lucan ele-
ment in the four-Gospel tradition, he chose the bull (what im-
ages would he have picked to justify a three-Gospel canon?).20
Though later tradition sought to lend this ascription some theo-
logical and even psychological plausibility, it remains an artificial
connection, validated by long tradition rather than by any obvi-
ous intrinsic 'fit'.21 Much more apposite is the eastern tradition
that Luke was the first icon painter: in numerous paintings, he is
pictured with his easel and paintbmshes, painting a portrait of
19 Eastern Olthodox theology ]'ctains a distilH;tion between the Johannille

and Lucan Pentecosts: Vladimir Lossky. '11"1 M)'stiw{ Theolog)' oJfhe/~tern Church
(Camblidge: Jamcs Clarkc, 1991), pp. 167-68.
20 Irenactls. Adu. /-lUff. 111.11,7-9.
21 Jacobus de Voraigne. Thl' Golden Legend: Ivadings on Ihe SaiulS (trans. W.G.
R}'an; Pl"incetOn: PrincetOll Universit)' Press, 1993), \'01. II PI" 2<17-54.
Mary and her child (anticipating the child's public significance

by a good thirty years).22 The image is naive, but it identifies some-
thing of Luke's distinClive contribution to the development of the
Christian tradition. Luke is the supreme narrator of the New
Testament (indeed his work is in many ways the first attempt
to put together an overarching 'grand narrative' within early
Christianity), His vision was one that lent itself to liturgical per·
fOfmance: it became embodied in the daily and yearly cycles of
Catholic and Orthodox Christian devotion. 23 And these cycles in
their turn form the underwater reef which gives their distinctive
shape to the iconographic traditions of Eastern and Western reli-
gious art. Emile Male's classic study of the iconography of the me-
diaeval cathedrals of France makes this point clearly:
L'Eglise n'a pas VOUlll presenter aux chretiens toute !a vie de Jesu-Christ,
pas plus qu'elle n'a mis entre leurs mains les quaLre Evangiles, mais die a
choisi quelques faits de sens pl"ofond, significaLifs ellLre tous, pour les
pr,oposer a la meditation des fideles. Ccs faits sont preciscmelll ceux que
I'Eglise ct~li~bre chaqlle annee dans Ie cycle des retes. Les sclllptellrs, les
verriers, les miniatllristes n'om done fait qu'illustrer Ie calendrier liturgi-
quC. 24
It is not wholly inappropriate that Luke should have come to

be claimed as the patron saint of artists, given the int.rinsic con-
nection between the artistic tradition and the liturgical tradition.
And in the world of virtual history, we may fairly claim that both
might have looked very different if Luke had not met Theophilus.
AnSTRACT
Asking the 'what if?' questions of virtual history is a way of mbbing our noses
in history's essential contingency-in the fact that things could have been dif-
ferent, that human choices (among other contingencies) actually matter. And
of all history's contingencies, those of authorship seem-at least to those of us
who are authors-the mOSt precarious imaginable. With Luke we are dealing with
an author who seems particularly sensitive to the delicate combinations of forces,
both communal and individual, that hedge about the articulation of the word.
Asking 'What if Luke had never met Theophilus?' is in the end an invitation to
consider the possibility of the non-existence of Luke's Gospel and Acts. Can we
imagine the New Testament without these two texts (which together make up
25% of iL~ bulk)?
2'l Robin Cormack, Painting file Soul: Icons, Death Masks, a/lll Shrouds (London:
Reaktion Books, 1997), pp. 44-64.
nAnd correspondin!,:,ly less interestin!':' to Protestant de\'Olion: Bach com-
posed no ·Sl. Luke Passion'.
2t Emile Male, L 'art riligieux du XlFle sieck en f'mllce (Paris: Armand Colin,
1925), p. 182.
WHAT IF PAUL HAD TRAVELLED EAST RATHER
THAN WEST?
RICHARD BAUCKHAM
Universily oj St. Andrews
The Jewish l:,lzsl

For first-eentu'1' Jews, Jerusalem VMS not at the eastern edge of
a world defined by the Roman Empire, the Mediterranean world
depicted in maps of Paul's missionary travels in Bibles and refer-
ence works. For first-century Jews, Jerusalem was the centre of a
world which stretched as far east as it did west, and, equally im-
portantly. the centre of the Jewish diaspora, which also stretched
as far east as it did west. New Testament scholars rarely remem-
ber the eastern diaspora. Of course, the New Testament texts give
them very little occasion to call it to mind. The Acts of the
Apostles, which probably more than any other New Test.ament
documelll has fashioned the general impression we have of the
geographical scope of the early Christian world, focuses, once the
narrative leaves Palestine. exclusively on Paul's missionary travels
to the north-west and west of Palestine. But Acts in fact contains
its own warning against taking this focus as more than a pars pro
lolo story of the spread of the Christian gospel in the early years.
Its precise and accurate sketch of the geography of the Jewish
diaspora (2:9-11), from Parthia in the east to Rome in the west,
from Pontus in the north to Arabia in the south, with Jerusalem
at the centre, is programmatic. It defines not the world that the
gospel must finally reach (1:8), since in none of these directions
does it reach one of the ends of the earth, as conceived at the
time,l but the Jewish world which would be reached by Jews trav·
cHing from jerusalem to all parts of the diaspora. 2 Just such a
crowd of pilgrims as Acts 2 depicts would be present at every major
lOne of these, Ethiopia, does appear implicitly in Acts 8:39, as the destina-
tion to which the Ethiopian eunuch will lake the Gospel when, beyond lhe nar-
rative, he reaches home.
2 Sec R. Baud.ham, james and theJcrusalcll1 Church', in R. Bauckhanl (cd.),
The Book of Acts ill if!; Palestinian Se/lillg (Carlisle: Paternoster Press; Grand Rap-
ids: Eerdmans, 1995), pp. 419-22.
172 RICHARD 6AUCKHAM
festival in Jerusalem and S0, surely ACLS implies, the gospel would
be taken home to all parts of the diaspora not just after this ini-
tial preaching by the apostles at Pentecost, but continually as the
leaders of the Jerusalem church continued to preach their mes-
sage to the crowds in the temple court.
For firSHentury Palestinian Jews, links with the eastern diaspora
were as frequent and imponant as those with the western diaspora.
Beyond the Euphrates in the east lived descendants of the exiles
both of the northern Israelite tribes, deponed by the Assyrians in
the eighth centUl)' BeE, and of the southern u"ibes,Judah and Ben-
jamin, deported by the Babylonians in the sixth century BeE. The
largest concentrations of Jewish communities were still in the ar-
eas to which their ancestors had originally been deported. The
exiles of the northern tribes. not yet regarded as 'lost', lived mainly
in north Mesopotamia (Nisibis and Adiabene) and Media,' while
the exiles of the southern tribes lived mainly in southem Meso-
potamia. In a somewhat confusing passage, Josephus seems to
think that the eastern diaspora, comprising the northern as well
as the southern tribes, was far more numerous than the western,
complising members only of the southern tribes (An.t. 11.131-33).
His depiction of the former as innllme:rahle: myri'lrls prnh'lbly
reveals his desire to see in them the fulfilment of the promises to
the patriarchs, that their descendants would be innumerable (Gen.
13:16; 15:5; 32:]2), but, however exaggerated, it suggests the im-
portance of the eastern diaspora in first-cemul)' Jewish eyes. Jose-
phus also recounts (Ant. 18.311-13, cr. 379) how the two cities of
Nehardea (in south Mesopotamia) and Nisibis (in north Mesopo-
tamia) served as the collecting points for the temple tax contri-
butions from tJle eastern diaspora, where the resulting huge sums
of money could be kept safe until they were conveyed to Jerusa-
lem along with the caravans of pilgrims, whom Josephus numbers
at tens of thousands. 4
For first-century Jews, the eastern diaspora was the original, bib-
lical and paradigmatic diaspora. It comprised members of all
twelve tribes, all t\velve of whom were expected, on the basis of
the prophecies, to return from exile to form the regathered and
reunited Israel of the future. Whereas much of the western
~ On the Median diaspora in this period, sec R. Bauckham, 'A.nna of the Tribe
of Asher (Luke 2:36-38)'. lW 104 (1997), pp. 166-69, 173-77.
of On this passage, see Bauckham. 'Anna'. p. 174.
WHAT IF PAUL HAD TRAVELLED EAST RATHER THAN WEST? 173
diaspora resulted from voluntary migration, though deportation

and enslavement played a part in its origins, the eastern diaspora
was paradigmatic in that it clearly resulted, in the narrative of the
Hebrew Bible, f]"om involulltary deporlalion ellluodyillg' God's
judgment on his people. It was lherefore from the circumsL:'ll1ces
of the eastern diaspora that the Jewish theological conception of
the diaspora-as divine punishment which would be rescinded in
the future-derived, For these reasons the eastern diaspora had a
theological and symbolic priority over the western.
Communication between Jerusalem and the eastern diaspora
was frequent, especially, as already mentioned, through pilgrim-
age LO jerusalem and the conveyance of temple tax, There were
also official letters circulated from the jerusalem religious authori-
ties, on such mattel"S as the religious calendar, to tbe eastern as
to the western diaspora," jewish merchants travelled with ease
along the major trade routes from Palestine as far as the Gulf and
beyond Uosephus, Ant. 18.34), which were also the routes trav-
elled by Jewish pilgrims, Natives of the eastern diaspora migrated
to live permanently in jerusalem, just as natives of the western
diaspora did, (As native Aramaic-speakers, any CllI"istian converts
among the fOimer would have been among the 'Hebrews' of Acts
6:1, whereas Christian converts from the latter were the 'Helle-
nists',)
It should also be remembered that, whereas Palestine's incor-
poration in the Roman Empire was a vel)' recent development,
Palestine's participation in a cultural world which stretched east
to Mesopotamia and Persia was vel)' old and influential in count·
less ways, This participation had two cultural layers: the Aramaic-
speaking civilization of the Persian Empire, in which local cultures,
while by no means replaced, were to some degree assimilated to
an international Aramaic culture, and the Hellenization of the
Middle East that followed in the wake of Alexander's conquests,
was concentrated in the Greek cities established throughout the
area, and was absorbed to val)'ing degrees by the local aramaicized
cultures,6 The Romanization of the western part of this cultural
world was, by comparison with Aramaicization and Hellenization,
~ Bauckham, 'Anna', pp" 174-76.

6On the imponance of bOlh layers ill our period, and against a Olle-sided
emphasis on Hellcnization, see A. Wasserstein, 'Non-HellenizcdJews in the Semi-
Hellenized East', Scripta Classica Israelim 14 (1995), pp. 111-37.
174 RICHARD BAUCKHAM
only the thinnest of veneers. Hence the demise of the Hellenistic

empires, succeeded by the Parthian empire in the east and the
Roman in the west, while it divided politically the world that
Aramaicizatioll and Hellenization had united culturally, by no
means severed the cultural links. The Greek cities of Mesopotamia,
for example, maintained close cultural relationships with those of
the eastern Mediterranean. An example that nicely makes the
point for OUf present purposes is that of the Stoic philosopher
Archedemus of Tarsus who left Athens to eSlablish a Stoic school
in Babylonia. 7 Thus, whether we consider Paul, native of Tarsus,
as a Jew of the western diaspora or Paul, trained as a Pharisaic
teacher in Jerusalem, as at home in the primarily Semitic-speak.
iog religious culture of Jewish Palestine, he would have felt part
of a cultural world that stretched east of Tarsus and Jerusalem to
the Hellenistic cities of Mesopotamia and to those parts of the
Jewish diaspora that had every claim to be considered the diaspora.
Why should Paul not have thought of travelling east?
Why Should Paul Have Travelled East1

Paul became a Christian in Damascus, following his encounter
with the risen Christ on the way there. It seems that from the be-
ginning he understood this experience as a call to proclaim Jesus
the Messiah to the nations (Gal. 1:16; d. Acts 22:14-15; 26:17·18).
The impression his own account gives is that, so strong was this
sense of a special vocation from God and so urgent his under·
standing of the task, he did not wait until he could consult those
who were already apostles, but immediately set about fulfilling his
call (Gal. 1:17·18). But how could he decide where to begin? It
would not be surprising if he were guided by t\vo facLors: provi·
dence and scriptural exegesis. He must have reflected on the fact
that it was in Damascus-just outside the land of Israel-that he
received his call to take the gospel to the nations. Damascus must
surely be the divinely intended geographical threshold of his
mission.
Where would one go from Damascus? Though it was possible
to travel west through Abila to the Mediterranean coast at Berytus,
no Jew from Palestine would think of Damascus as the starting
7 J. Neusncr, A History of the Jews in BalJylQllia: I: The Parthian Period (SPB, 9;

2nd edition; Lcidcn: Bl"ill, 1969), p. 9.
point for travelling west. The obvious routes were south and north-
east. It was the route south through the Hauran and along the
King's Highway to Petra that we know Paul in fact took (Gal. 1:17).
All uf Lhi~ an:::a cUlllpu~t:d tiLt: NauaLcan kingdom which Jews of-
ten called Arabia. s This was the area inhabited by the Gentile
peoples who, according to the Genesis genealogies as understood
at this time (cf. Josephus, Ant. 1.221, 239), were the most closely
related to Israel: the Arab tribes descended from Abraham by his
wife Keturah (Gen. 25:1-4) or through his son Ishmael (Gen.
25:13-15).9 Ishmael's eldest son Nebaioth (Gen. 25: 13) was
thought to be the ancestor of the Nabateans, who took their name
from him Uosephus, Ant. 1.221). Their closeness, by kinship as
well as geographically, to Israel would make them the obvious
starting point for a mission to the nations. But this would have
been confirmed for Paul by his reading of prophecy, specifically
the later chapters of Isaiah, which were pivotal both for the early
church's self-understanding and for Paul's own understanding of
his role in turning the nations to the God of Israel (Gal. 1:15; cf.
Isa. 49:1-6). In the pilgrimage of the nations to Zion, it is the Arab
tribes of north-west Arabia that are the first to be named: Midian,
Ephah, Sheba, Kedar and Nebaioth (Isa. 60:6-7), all of them de-
scendants of Abraham (Gen. 25:2-4, 13). It is remarkable that
Rainer Riesner, who argues persuasively that Paul's later mission-
ary travels followed a geographical programme provided by Isaiah
66:19,10 does not recognize that a firsHentury Jewish exegete
would be likely to read Isa. 66: 19-20 in connexion with Isa. 60:9. 11
Tarshish (understood in Paul's time as Tarsus) comes first among
the place names in Isa. 66: 19, but in Isa. 60:9 it follows the Naba-
teans (60:7). Thus Paul had every reason to begin obeying his
missionary calling in Nabatea.
That Paul deliberately began his mission in Nabatea should be
taken more seriously than it usually is, because it disturbs the
8 J. Murphy-O'Connor, 'Paul in Arabia', CBQ 55 (1993), pp. 732-33.

9 The Edomiles, descended fromJacob's brother Esau, had by lhis tilllc con-
verled to Judaism.
10 R. Riesner, Paul's Early Pen'od: ChronolojJ)', MissiQlI StralejJ)', Theology (lralls.
D. SlOll; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), pp. 245-53; but cr. lhc crilique inJ.M.
ScOll, Palll and the Natiol!J: The OM Testament aud fe'wish Background oj Paul's Mis·
~inn fn flu, r.n>til"" ",ith S/"rinl ll".!I'rI"t!C' fo 01' D,st;'U1fion of CallI/inns (WUNT, 84;
Tlibingcn: J.C.B. Mohr [Paul Siebeck]. 1995).
11 Therefore he denics that Paul's purpose in going lO Ambia was mission-
ary: Paul's Early Pen'od, pp. 258-60.
common assumption that Paul, the strongly Hellenized Jew from

Tarsus, chose as an obvious matter of cultural affmity to preach
in the cities of the north-east Mediterranean world. The Naba-
leans, in this period before their annexation as the Roman prov-
ince of Arabia in 106, were among the least Hellenized peoples
of the Near EaSl. l2 There is rather little evidence for the use of
Greek. Nahatean remained the language of government, law, re·
ligion and ordinary speechyl But Paul, a 'Hebrew born of He-
brcv.s' (Phil. 3:5), that is, a native Semitic speaker,H was cenainly
fluent in Aramaic as well as Greek. If> There were Jewish commu-
nities in Nabatea (probably mentioned in Acls 2: II), which no
doubt Paul would use as a point of contact with sympathetic Gen·
tiles, as was his regular missionary strategy later. Paul's policy of
prioritizing the synagogue precisely in his Gentile mission (cf.
Rom. I :16) was not merely pragmatic. It corresponded to the
prophetic expectation that in the last days the nations would come
to Zion bringing with them the Israelites of the diaspora (Isa.
11: 10-12; 60:4-9; 66: 18-20). Paul's Gentile mission was therefore
bound to be to the lands of the Jewish diaspora, though it was in
any case commonly supposed that thel"e were Jews in every part
of the inhabited world (e.g. Philo, ug. Gai. 283-84).
Mter a period, perhaps more than 1\..0 years (Gal. 1:17·18), in
Arabia Paul returned to Damascus. Why to Damascus? There were
more direct routes to Jerusalem. If Paul had become persona non
grata to the Nabatean authorities, as is commonly deduced from
the circumstances of his leaving Damascus (2 Cor. 11 :32-33), there
were more rapid routes out of Nabatean territory. It must be that
Paul now intended to travel the other main route from Damascus:
the caravan route north-east to Palmyra and thence to Mesopota-
mia. That way the whole of the eastern diaspora, the original dia-
spora not just of the Judean tribes, but of all the twelve tribes who
must all be brought back to Jerusalem by their Gentile neighbours
12 M. Hengel and A.M. Schwemer, Plwl Belwtlm Damascus and Antioch (trans.
J. Bowden; London: SCM Press. 1997), p. 112. give a somewhat exaggerated im-
pression of Hcllenization in Nabatea at this time.
\3 F. Millar, Th, Roman Near East 31 Be-AD 337 (Cambl'idge: Harvard Uni-
vcrsity Press. 1993), pp. 401407.
14 M. Hcngel, The Prf!-Chrislian Paal (trail:>. j. BOWUCll; Lonuon; SCM Pn::>:>,
1991), pp. 25-26:J. Murphy-O·Connor. Paul: A Critical Life (Oxford: Oxford Uni-
\'ersity Press. 1996), pp. 36-37.
l~ Hengel and Schwemer. Palll, PI'. 118-19.
in the last days, lay before Paul. Moreover, the nations to the east
were Semites. The descendants of Shem lived from Syria eastwards
to India (Gen. 10:21-31)-01" even to China, as Josephus seems to
indicate (Ant. 1.143-47). On the principle of beginning with Is-
rael's closest kin, these were the nations to whom Paul should turn
after the Abrahamic tribes of Arabia. Prophecy explicitly envisaged
the return of the eastern diaspora along with the nations of the
east (Isa. 11:10-12, 15-16; cr. 45:6, 22; 48:20; 49:12). P.-obably;t
was only the attempt of the Nabatean ethnarch in Damascus to
arrest Paul and Paul's ignominious flight from the city (2 Cor.
11 :32-33) that prevented Paul following this direction to the east.
The Nabateans controlled the routes nonh-east as well as south,
and so Paul, in flight for his life, could take only the road to
Jerusalem. 16 Doubtless, for Paul, this was providential guidance,
an instance, as he was later to see it, of God's ability to further his
purpose through Paul's weakness (2 Cor. 11:32-12:10). From
Jerusalem Paul made, as it were, a new start (cr. Acts 22:17-21),
understanding the prophetic programme now to direct him first
to Tarsus (Isa. 60:9; 66:19; Gal 1:21; Acts 9:30) and so in an arc
from Jerusalem to the furthest west (Rom. 15:19,23-24). His own
origin in Tarsus no doubt now provided the providential indica·
tion that this was his own role in the eschatological events, as mis-
sionary not to the descendants of Shem but to those ofJapheth. 17
The apostle who, but for the antipathy of the Nabatean authori-
ties, might have travelled to the eastern end of the earth now
followed a consistent imperative towards its opposite extremity.
Paul in the cast

Paul's missionary strategy in the east would have been similar
to that which we know he followed in the west. He would have
targeted the Hellenistic cities with significant Jewish communities
in them, like those we know him to have worked in in Asia Minor
and Greece. He might, in the first place, have travelled north from
Palmyra to cross the Euphrates at Nicephorium and then followed
16 Riesner. Paul's Earl)' Pmod, pp. 261-62; cr. tl-Wlar, The Roman Nmr East, pp.
298-99.
17 Perhaps nOl only lhe location of the places in Isa. 66; 19 in the tcrrilory of
Japheth. btl! also the priorily 01 Japheth in the table 01 the nations «(jen. JU;<!-
5) influenced lhis decision. For the lerrilory of Japheth as the area of mission
which Paul regarded as allolted to him. see ScOll, Palll, ch. 3.
the route alongside the river Balikh to the Hellenistic cities of

lchnai, Charax Sidoll and Charrhae. This would also take him to
Edessa, whence he could travel east to Nisibis and Adiabene. where
many of the non.hern Israelite exiles still lived. He would be un-
likely to travel further north or east to Media, but would (urn
south, perhaps ending this journey by crossing the Euphrates
at Doura Emopos, another Hellenized and (at this date) Par-
thian city with a significant Jewish community. and thence back
to Palmyra and Damascus. Another journey might take him to
Babylonia, the area of the largest Jewish settlement in the east,
travelling through Doura and sOllLh-east along the Euphrates LO
the Jewish seulemem at Nehardea and then to Seleucia on the
Tigris, the old capital of Seleucid Babylonia, the centre of Helle-
nistic culture in Babylonia, with a large Jewish community. Con-
tinuing south-east he could visit Antioch in Mesene and Charax
Spasinou on the Gulf, perhaps also Susa. In many of these cities
he might have stirred up the kind of local Jewish opposition that
he encountered in some of the cities of Asia Minor and Greece,
according 1O Acts, but he is unlikely to have been harassed by the
tolerant Parthian authorities. IS
Finally, Paul could have set his sights on travelling even further
east, towards the eastern end of the earth, just as the Paul of
Romans intended to Lravel west as far as Spain. This would take
him as far as Alexander's empil-e had stretched, to north-east In-
dia, where the Acts of Thomas take their hero, the apostle Judas
Thomas. Like the Palmyrene merchants who travelled down the
Euphrates to Charax Spasinou where they embarked on ships,19
Paul would no doubt have travelled by sea through the Gulf to
India. Although it is intrinsically likely that some Jews had already
travelled this far and settled in India, we cannot be sure that there
were already Jewish communities in India at this date.
One difference from Paul's travels in the west might have been
that he would probably have preached in the synagogues in Ara-
maic rather than Greek, and in general might have used some
Greek but more Aramaic. This is difficult to judge precisely. Greek
was spoken in the Hellenistic cities in which Paul would most likely
have spent most of his time, and Greek is used on most Parthian
18 BUllhe chil war in I'anhia during the early years of his minisuy there could
have complicaled matters for Paul.
I') Millar. Tht Roman Near East, pp. 330-31.
WHAT II- PAUL HAD TRAVELLED EAST RATHER THAN WEST? 179
coins. But Josephus, writing the first (no longer extant) version
of his jewish War in Aramaic for readers east of the Euphrates,
presumably judged that this language was the most effective for
reaching both a Jewish and a Gentile readership in the east. We
may thus presume that the letters Paul would have written to some
of his newly founded Christian communities in the Parthian e;=m·
pire would probably have been written in Aramaic. This is an
important point for following through our speculation, because
it would inhibit their circulation to the west of the Euphrates
outside Syria unless they were translated into Greek. This in turn
would prevent the influence of Pauline theology on Greek and
Latin Christianity and their successors. But translation of Paul's
Aramaic letters into Greek would be not unlikely. Some of the
earliest Christian literature in Syriac, probably all from Osrhoene,
such as the Odes oj Solomon, the Acts oj Thomas, and some of the
works of Bardaisan, were translated into Greek. The contacts with
Greek-speaking Christians that would make a translation of Paul's
letters into Greek desirable and likely certainly existed at an early
date. Abercius, bishop of Hierapolis, who recorded his extensive
travels in a rather cryptic epitaph on his tombstone, travelled to
Rome and then to the east, around the middle of the second
century. He 'saw the plain of Syria and all the cities, even Nisibis,
having crossed the Euphrates. And everywhere I had associates.
Having Paul as a companion, evel)"\lhere faith led the \\I3y'.20 In
our present context the somewhat puzzling reference to Paul is
tantalizing. Did Abercius mean that he was following in Paul's
footsteps, not only to Rome, but also to Nisibis? The lack of any
other trace of a tradition that Paul ever crossed the Euphrates
makes this unlikely. Perhaps Abercius meant only that, like Paul,
he travelled extensively, visiting Christian communities. Perhaps
he meant that his copy of the Pauline letters was something he
had in common with the 'associates' (fellow Christians) he en-
countered everywhere.
Would Paul's travels in the east have made a significant differ-
ence to Christianity east of the Euphrates? If his letters had come
down to us and/or he had inspired a Luke to write a Mesopo-
tamian equivalent to Acts, we should certainly know a great deal
morc abollt the beginnings of Christianity in Mesopotamia than
20 Translation in j. Quasten. Palrology, vol. I (UtTech\: SpCClnlffi, 1950), p.

172.
we do. Though scholars who begin with the legends and find it
impossible to ascertain the truth behind them tend to think Chris-
tianity did not reach Mesopotamia in Paul's lifetime or even in
the t1rst century.21 it has to be said that the constant communica-
tion and travel between Jerusalem and the eastern diaspora makes
it virtually incredible lhal it did 110[.22 Jewish pilgrims and mer-
chams from me east would have heard the gospel in Jerusalem
and taken it back to their synagogue communities. 23 This would
surely have been the way Christianity initially spread lO much of
the diaspora. including such areas as Egypt and Cyrene, aboUl
which we know no more than we do of Mesopotamia. In addition,
there is no reason Lo doubt the basic historicity of Addai, the
apostle of Edessa, and his links with the pre.70 Jcmsalcm church,24
or Mari, whom traditions suggest planted the church in Seleucia-
Ctesiphon, travelling there from Nisibis, in the following gen-
eration. Such names, handed down in local traditions, are often
reliable even when the stories told of them are legendary.?!>
However, even these traditions do not indicate flourishing Chris-
tian communities as early as Paul's lifetime, other than in Edessa.
Had Paul travelled east, this might have been otherwise. The
churches of Seleucia on the Tigris and Charax Spasinou on the
Gulf might have been as important as those of Ephesus and
Corinth actually were. Moreover, the character of the Christian
2\ E.g. M.-L Chaumont. LA ChristiQnUation tk l'mlpir~ lranim tin urigina aUJl'

granda fi'"sicution du !\'esikle (CSCO, 499; Lou"ain: Peeters, 1988), Pan I.
n In my "iew the address ofJames 10 'Ihe lweh'e lribeS in the diaspora' (Jas
I: I) is aemal evidence of this: sec R. Bauekham,jama: Wisdom ofjalMS, Discipu of
jaus theSa~ (NT Readings; London: Routledge. 1999), pp. 14-16.
IS Compare Ihe way in which Izales, before his accession 10 the throne of
Adiabenc in 36 CE, W'dS convcrtcd 10 Judaism by a Jcwish merchant in Charax
Spasinou, while his mOlher was similarly convcrtcd by aliolherJew in Adiabene.
L,ler hates was influenccd by a Pharisec from Galilee (Josephus. Ant. 20.34-35,
38-48).
2i Discussions of Addai havc rei to take accounl of whal is probably lhe ear-
liest known reference 10 him in the First Apocalypse of James (CC V, 3) 36:15-
25. Though this text had long been published by the time he ....rote, there is 110
reference to it in the diKussion of Addai by ChaullloIH, UI Cilristianisat;on, pp.
14-16. By linking Addai with James of Jerusalem, it makes improbable Ihe con-
clusion or Chaumonl and others that, Ihough historical, Addai's ministry in
Edessa should be daled c, 100 at Ihe earliest.
t5 Note also Ihe possibility that re!ali"es or Jesus were mISSionaries in the
eastenl diaspora in Ihe- C"arly vrnnrl ce-nlllry: R. R:mckham,jll/" ",Id til, IUlat;,,,,
of jaus in /he Earl] Church (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1990), pp. 68-iO; and the
rull account no~' of Ihe C\idellce in Chaumont, La Cilrist;anisa/:Oll, pp. 4247 (he
does nOi credit it).
theological tradition east of the Euphrates might have been dif-

ferent. The great Syriac Fathers, Ephrem and Aphrahat of Nisibis,
evidently formed in a theological tradition influenced by the kind
of jewish Christianity that first took root in northern Mesopo-
tamia,26 knew and used Paul's letters, but were not deeply influ-
enced by them. Had Paul been the aposLJe of the east and his
letters addressed to churches of the east, this might have been
othenvise.
The West without Paul

The most challenging issue our counterfactual hypothesis raises
is that of imagining what Christianity in the Roman Empire would
have been like without Paul. The prominence of Paul in Acts and
in the Western theological tradition down the centuries has led
to such absurd exaggerations of Paul's significance as the claim
that Paul invented Christianity or that without Paul Christianity
would have remained a sect within judaism. Since the German
Liberalism of the nineteenth cemu,)', Paul has been required to
effect the transition between jesus, the preacher of ethics, the fa-
therhood and kingdom of God, and the dogmatic Christianity
which proclaimed a Christocentric gospel of salvation through the
death and resurrection ofJesus. 27 In LJle many versions of this view,
it has been Paul who Hellenized the Jewish religion of Jesus and
his first followers, Paul who created Christianity as a Gentile reli-
gion for Gentiles, Paul who made Jesus the object of faith and
worship, Paul who set Christianity on the road to becoming the
religion of credal orthodoxy it was in the age of the ecumenical
councils. AJI aspects of this understanding of Paul and his signifi-
cance have been comprehensively refuted in recent decades, both
in Pauline studies and in studies of early Jewish and non-Pauline
forms of Christianity.
Against such exaggerations of Paul's role in the development
of early Christianity, we must first note that, creative thinker
though he was, not everything in Paul's writings is originally
Pauline. Rather than detecting Pauline influence wherever other
early Christian writings employ terms or ideas also found in Paul,
'ffi R. Murray, S)'mbols oj Church and Kingdom (Cambridgc: Cambridge Univcr-

sity Press. 1975), lillruduuiull <tlld Part 2.
27 This is slill Paul's role in. e.g.. G. Vermes, Tile NeiigiQIl ojJesus lilt jew (Lon-
don: SO"'1 Prcss. 1993), eh. 8.
we should take such phenomena as evidence for the extent

to which Paul shared a common understanding of the gospel,
a tradition to which he held himself responsible (l Cor. 15:3),
common Christian vocabulary, common Christian traditions of
exegesis of the Hebrew scriptures, common paraenetic traditions,
and so all. It is also clear that other major writings in the New
Testament, stich as the Gospels of Mauhew and John, the letter
to the Hebrews and the book of Revelation, are not plausibly in-
fluenced by Paul to any significant extent but develop non-Pauline
versions of the Christian gospel which present it as a Christocenlric
message of salvation through faith in the crucified and risen Jesus
no less than Paul's version does. In comparison Paul appears as
no less Jewish than these others, while, conversely, later patristic
credal and doctrinal development \\'as at least as much Johannine
as it was Pauline. The New Testament without Paul and his influ~
ence would still contain a range of Christian writings, each with
its own idiom, nuances and creative theological developments, but
all sharing common features which must have characterized the
Christian movement from its earliest Jerusalem form, all highly
Christological, all focused on an eschatological-soteriological read-
ing of thf' Siory. as Wf'lI as thf' leachings, of Jf'SII..., his life. neath,
resurrection and future coming. Some particularly Pauline fea-
tures would certainly be noticeably missing-such as Paul's spe-
cial contributions to pneumatology and his use of the cross as a
cultural-critical principle, as well as his thinking about justifica-
tion-but the Christianity of the New Testament would be still,
from the perspective of later centuries, recognizably Christianity.
Moreover, we should note, in transition to our second point, that
all these non-Pauline forms of New Testament Christianity are fully
supportive of the Gentile mission.
The second respect in which we should not exaggerate Paul's
role is in his importance in spreading the Cluistian gospel in the
Mediterranean world of the Roman Empire. The Gentile mission
began without reference to Paul's apostolic calling (Acts 10-11)
and took place quite independently of Paul in areas such as Rome
and Egypl which were not evangelized by Paul,28 Though withoul
Paul the issue or Gentile membership of the eschatological people
of God would no doubl have been posed and debated in rather
U cr. the ralher desperate anempl by Hengel and Schwemer, Paul, p. 149,
to poslUlale Paul's inOuence on the Jerusalem 'pillar' apostles.
WHAT 11-' PAUL HAD TRAVELLED EAST RATHER THAN WEST? 183
different ways, it is likely that without Paul there would have been
general acceplance of the terms of the apostolic decree (Acts
15:19-20,28-29), which did not have a Pauline theological basis
but established unequivocally that Gentile Christians belong to the
people of God as Gentiles, not by becoming Jews. 29 The promi-
nence of Paul's missionary travels in Acts should not disguise their
geographical limitations. In Acts, as in Romans, it is clear that
Christianity-Gentile as well as Jewish-was well established in
Rome (soon to be the most important church of all) quite inde-
pendentJy of Paul. 30 Though Paul had worked with some of those
Christians in Rome whom he especially mentions in Romans 16
(vv. 3-4, 7, 13), it is notable that all these-Prisca and Aquila,
Andronieus and Junia, Rufus and his mother (cf. Mark 15:21)-
had been Christians before they met Paul. The 1:\"'0 latter pairs
must have been very early members of the Jerusalem church, as
were other travelling missionaries: Peter and Philip, Barnabas and
Mark, the brothers of the Lord (1 Cor 9:5), Silas/Sylvanus. Chris-
tianity almost certainly reached Rome from Jerusalem, quite pos-
sibly even before Paul's conversion, and soon attracted Gentiles
already associated with the Jewish synagogues in the city. Even in
Luke's account of the Pauline mission in the peculiarly Pauline
mission areas of the north-east Mediterranean, we can detect hints
of what might have happened even there had Paul not tJ'avelled
there: Barnabas and Mark go to Cyprus without Paul (15:39);
Prisca and Aquila, presumably converted to Christianity in Rome,
come to Corinth (18:2); the Alexandrian Arollos is teaching in
Ephesus and is assisted in his understanding of the gospel by Prisca
and Aquila (18:24-26), before evangelizing in Corinth, without
having met Paul (18:27-28; cf. I Cor. 3:6).
Paul was probably the most gifted evangelist and the most fer-
29 See R. Bauckham, 'jame~ and the Gentile~ (Acts 15.13,21)'. ch. 7 in B.

Witherington III (cd.), HislOl)', Ulerature alld Sod!';ty ill the Book of Act.l (Cambridge:
Cambridge Univer~ity Press, 1996), pp. 154-84; and Bauckham, 'James and the
jeru~alelll Church', pp. 450-80.
:10 On the origins of the church in Rome, see W. Wiefel, 'The jewish Com-
munity in Ancient Rome and the Origins of Roman Christianity' and P. L""\mpe,
'The Roman Christians of Romans 16', both in K..P. Donfried (cd.), Tht Romans
Debate (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1991, expo edn), pp. 85-101, 216-30; R.
Brandle and E.W. Stegemann. 'The .-ormation of the First ~CllIistial1 Congrega-
lions~ in Rome in the Context of lhe jewish Congregations', in K..P. Donfried
and P. Richardson (cds.), Judaism alld Christiallity in First-Cn/tul)' IlQme (Grand
Rapids: Eerdmans. 1998), pp. 117-27.
tile theological thinker of the first Christian generation, though

he himself would have seen only the power of God at work in his
own weakness. But he worked within the context of the remark-
ably vigorous and creative movement which was earliest Christian-
ity. The attempt to make Paul solely responsible for anything is
either a kind of modern theological Marcionism or a reflection
of the modern notion of original genius. The historical Paul is
not diminished if we conclude that, although without Paul much
would have been different about the way the early Christian move-
ment would have spread across the Roman Empire, it would still
have spread, with much the same long-term effecls.
ABSTRACT
For first-centul'Y Jews lhe eastern disapora was at least as important as the west-
ern. When Paul returned from Arabia (Nabatea) to Damascus, his intention was
to tra\,el east from Damascus to Mesopotamia, where the synagogue communi-
ties, descendants of the ol"iginal exiles of both northern and southern tribes of
Israel, ,,'ould have been his starting point for mission to the Gentiles of the area.
But when he escaped arrest by the Nabatean ethnarc, Nabatean control of the
trade routes south and east of Damascus left him no choice but to traveltoJemsa-
lem, where he re-thought the geographical scope of his mission. Had Paul lrav-
elled east, the Christian communities of both north and south Mesopotamia
might have nourished already in the firsl century and Paul's writings might have
had more influence on Syriac theology. Considering how Christianity in the
Roman Empire would have developed without Paul entails rejecting such exag-
gerated views of Paul's significance as thatl'aul invented Christianity or that with-
out Paul Christianity would have remained a Jewish sect. The Gentile mission
began without Paul and tOok place in areas, such as Rome and Egypt, which were
1I0t evangelized by PauL Without Paul much would have been different about
the way the early Christian mo\'ement would have spread across the Roman
Empire, but it would still have spread, with much the same long-term effects.
EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY IN COUNTERFACTUAL
FOCUS
JOHN DOMINIC CROSSAN

DePaul University (EmmiUS)
I do not ask what if Jesus had not been crucified, had not been
raised from the dead, had not been confessed as Messiah, Lord,
or Son of God but, presuming the existence of that inaugural
faith, my purpose is to imagine what might have changed it ut-
terly or stopped it completely. After two thousand years of what
did happen, it is hard not to think of it all as inevitable, as if a
force had been unleashed upon the world that nothing could ever
have changed, let alone Slopped. I consider here four events, any
one of which, any combination of which, and, especially, all of
which would have altered Christianity completely beyond present
recognition or destroyed it utterly beyond present imerest.
The What If oj Cities

Wayne A. Meeks wrote a 1983 study wil.h the subtitle, The Social
World of the Apostle Paul, but with the title, The First Urban Chris-
tians. It would be easy to conclude that the first urban Christians
were in the churches of the Pauline mission or even that Paul
himself was especially instrumental in the transition from nlral to
urban environment. But before Paul, without Paul, and even if
Paul had never existed, Christians were in at least three cities,
jerusalem, Antioch, and Damascus, within two or three years of
the execution of jesus. Whal if they had not made those moves?
Jerusalem. In the overlap between Luke 24 and Acts 1 there is
no memion of Christians (I use this term as short-hand for those
first Christian jewish companions or followers of jesus) outside
jerusalem. One gets the impression that all of those people came
to jerusalem with jesus and either stayed there or went out thence
to other places. Galilee is ignored as will be, in what follo\\'S, most
everything not westward towards Rome. But reading Paul's
Galatian letter gives the same impression. When he wants to visit
Peter in L18, he does not go around Galilee seeking him but
seems to know that he is, of course as it were, in jerusalem. Why
186 JOI'IN DOMINIC CROSSAN
did some Christians, and among them those whose names we know
in a leadership capacity (James, Mary, Peter, etc.), stay in or rel<r
cate to Jerusalem so immediately after Jesus' crucifixion? I under-
line the question even if only a guess is available as an answer.
They relocated to Jerusalem from an apocalyptic expectation that
God would soon vindicate Jesus publicly, mal the general resur-
rection which had begun with Jesus would soon be consummated
openly. and that the justice of God would be fully displayed before
an unjust world in the \'ery imminent future. And where else bUl
in Jerusalem? I emphasize, however, once again: if that answer is
wfong. the question still stands, and the relocation still exists.
Antioch. Paul mentions his own presence at Antioch in Gal. 2: II
but Luke gives much more information, although it may be nec-
essary to read between the lines and often against them as well. I
interpret Acts 6:1·6 and 11:19-26 as describing and obscuring a
mission to native, Aramaic-speaking Jerusalem Jews conducted by
Peter's symbolic Twelve and another mission to immigrant, Greek-
speaking Jerusalem Jews conducted by Stephen's symbolic Seven.
Resistance to the latter resulted in Stephen's martyrdom, the re-
location of the mission's headquarters to Antioch, capital of the
Roman province of Syria, and the eventual arrival of Paul at that
city.
Damascus. Paul's autobiographical summaries emphasize that he
began as a persecutor of the church, in Gal. I: 13 and Phil. 3:6,
and both he and Luke associate his conversion with Damascus. I
do not accept as historical Luke's account of Paul going from
Jerusalem to Damascus with punitive authority from the high
priest. On the one hand, that is highly unlikely politically and
agrees too suspiciously with Luke's theological geography, where
evel)'thing moves outwards from Jerusalem. On the other, Paul
takes it for granted without any explanation in Gal. 1:17 that, af·
tel' conversion and time spent in Arabia, "again I returned to Dam·
ascus." There is also, of course, the agreement between 2 Cor.
II :32-33 and Acts 9:23-25 that Paul had to escape Damascus by a
basket down the wall. My understanding of all that has Paul living
in Damascus when he first atlacked the Christians there, but that
places them in that abalean city and with a high enough profile
to warrant such opposition.
I UU Hul argue that there was a formal program to urbanize
Christianity immediately after Jesus' death but simply that, even
before and apart from Paul, there were Christians in (at least)
EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY IN COUNTERFACTUAL FOCUS 187
three major cities. I certainly do not argue that all early Chris-
tians were urban nor that the more rural ones were irrelevant
(think, for example, of those behind the Q Gospel). The key deci-
sion was probably the relocation of some of Jesus' companions to
Jerusalem and the inevitability that pilgrim cOl1lacts would spread
converts thence to other major cities. If that had not happened,
and Mark's Gospel says the Jerusalem relocation should not have
happened, Christianity would not have existed as it did and, prob-
ably, soon, not at all. It could have died out within one or two
generations among the hills and hamlets of Galilee.
The What If of Pagans

I am looking once more at that expectation which persuaded
some Christians to relocate to Jerusalem and await the consumma-
tion of an apocalyptic scenario already begun by the resurrection
of Jesus. It also resulted in another very significant program: the
inclusion of Christian pagans alongside Christian Jews within the
same community. Why and how did that happen?
Paula Fredriksen has shown, with copious references, the
ambivalence of Jewish tradition about "what place, if any, do
Gentiles have" in Cod's kingdom once it is established. "We can
cluster the material around 1:\"0 poles. At the negative extreme,
the nations are destroyed, defeated, or in some way subjected to
Israel ... At the positive extreme, the nations participale in Israel's
redemption." That former option is not just chauvinism or xeno-
phobia but understandable revenge for half a millennium's im-
perial oppression. And the latter opinion presumes that those
"[E]schatological Gentiles ... who would gain admission to the
Kingdom once it was established, would enter as Gentiles. They
would worship and eat together with Israel, in Jerusalem, at the
Temple. The God they worship, lhe God of Israel, will have re-
deemed them from the error of idolatry he will have saved them-
to phrase this in slightly different idiom-graciously, apart from the
works of the Law."l Those options, however, whether negative,
positive, or somewhere in between, were more easily stated as
magnificent ideals than imagined as detailed programs, especially
1 Paula Fredriksen. MJudaism, The Circumcision of Gentiles, and Apocalyptic

Hope: Another Look at Galatians I and 2,~.JTS 42 (1991), pp. 532--64. Citations
arc from pp. 544-45 and 548.
188 JOHN DOMINIC CROSSAN
when apocalyptic consummation became an earthly period rather

than a heavenly instant. But, in any case, those are the polar ex-
tremes: the Gentiles (all? many? some?) integrated apocalyptically
inLO God's Kingdom by a war of extermination or a feast or rec·
oncilialion.
We know, but much more obscurely than we would wish, that,
even before Paul, there was tension atJerusalem inside Christian
Judaism between what Acts 6 calls "the Hebrews" and "the Helle·
nis(S" and also outside Christian Judaism bet\\leen those "Hellenists"
but not those "Hebrews" and other non-Christian Jewish Hellenists
(9:29). In this case Luke even writes against himself in Acts 6, \vi.lh
Stephen supposedly in charge of social assistance but actually
performing "great wonders and signs among the people" and
announcing, allegedly, that "Jesus of Nazareth will destroy this
place, and will change the customs which Moses delivered to us."
But even though Luke writes against himself, it is not exactly clear
how we must read him against himself. What was the core issue of
contention? The only way I can interpret what was historically
behind Acts 6 is to see it as the first act in a continuing contro-
versy whose second and third acts appear as separate and consecu-
tive events in Cal. 2:1-10 (the Jerusalem Council) and 2:1 1-11 (the
Antioch Decision) but as a single combined event in Acts 15 (the
Jerusalem Decision).
Paul says that the Jerusalem Council involved "false brethren"
requiring circumcision for male Christian pagan converts but that
"James" did not agree with them. Since James, brother of John,
had been executed in 42 and James, brother of Jesus, would not
be executed until 62. that "James" in Cal. 2:9 must be the same
"James, the brother of the Lord" from Cal. 1:19. But this is also
the same James whose subsequent Antioch Decision ordered that
community with both Christian Jews and Christian pagans to eat
together according to Jewish rather than pagan meal customs.
How are those two acts to be explained and what light do they
cast back on the even more enigmatic first act? What, especially,
is the logic ofJames' position as a Christian Jew who remained so
acceptable to non-Christian Jews that he could live without inci-
dent in Jerusalem until 62 when those "strict in observance of the
law" toppled an Annanide high-pdest for having him executed in
the inter-regnum between two Roman procurators, according to
Josephus in Jewish Antiquities 20. 20o-203?
James must have been operating out of what Fredriksen termed
EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY IN COUNTERFACTUAL "'oeus 189
the "positive extreme" of jewish apocalyptic presuppositions about

Gentiles in Cod's Kingdom. They would not have to be circum-
cised if male nor observe kosher regulations whether female or
male. BUlthere were also two codicils. First, he lOok it for granted
that Christian jews, as distinct from Christian pagans, would con-
tinue to obselve the Law just like other non-Christian jews. Sec·
ond, he demanded that if Christian Jews and Christian pagans ate
together, they should do so according to Jewish not pagan cus·
toms. We know that Paul refused that second condition and
thereby isolated himself from all the others at Antioch ("even
Barnabas") in Gal. 2:13. But we also know that James accused him
of having refused the fonner condition in Acts 21: 17-21. I think
that is correcl. Paul, on the radical wing of apocalyptic Gentile
inclusivity, believed it applied not just to Christian pagans but to
Christian Jews as well. Furthermore, it is on that same radical wing
that I locate Stephen's Seven. The debate may have originatcd
over the rituals of mixed table-fellowship (to that extent Acts 5 is
correel) but that simply surfaced this deeper question: If Chris·
tian pagans were accepted without the ritual law, how did that
affect Christian Jews? It was in no way applicable to them, said the
"Hebrews" and James; it was applicable to them in exactly the same
way, said thc "Hellcnists" and Paul. You can focus that question
even more shal'ply and personally like this: if Christian Jews had
new-born sons, would they have circumcised them or not?
Behind those debates and behind those competing positions
one point is presumed: Christian pagans were accepted early into
the community of God's Kingdom. But, even wit11in an apocalw
tic situation already initiated and to be imminently consummated,
extermination by war or reconciliation by feast were polar alter-
natives. What if earliest Christianity had not accepted the latter
alternative, had not accepted pagans into their community of
faith? Christianiry would have remained a part ofJudaism as, even
with that, it might have done were it not for the next what if.
The What If of Wars

There was a time when it was easy to explain why "Christianity"
broke away from and/or was rejected by "Judaism." For example;
r:hri~liam helievNIJe... 1IS W;.l~ Me~ ... iah, 1.01'1"1, Son ofr-on, ,lJ1nJew~
did not. There you have it. For example: Christians refused Sab-
bath, circumcision, kosher, and Jews did not. There you have it.
190 JOI-IN DOMINIC CROSSAN
Those sounded reasonable explanations since Christianity and

Judaism did evcnlualJy become separate religions, and those were
then recognizable differences between them. They now, however,
seem totally anachronistic. First, there were many diverse strands
ofJudaism in that first-eenlury JC\v1sh homeland, all vying for lead-
ership in the crucible of Greek cultural and Roman mililary im-
perialism. Second, Christians take their place alongside Pharisees,
Sadducees, and Esscncs, or Fourth Philosophy, Sicarii, and Zeal-
ots, as competing options within Judaism. Third, as one more
group disputing agai'nst other groups but within the same politico-reli-
gious community, Christians or Christianity meant Christian Jews or
Christian Judaism in those early decades. Fourth, therefore, those
above options and all others that distinguished them from com-
peting groups, were options within not against Judaism. But that
only makes even more pressing the question why, eventually, all
other Jewish groups came to reject the Christian Jewish option for
their future. The answer brings up my third great what if what if
the three great wars against Rome had not taken place.
It is quite customary to speak only of two such wars but I insist
on the middle one as well. The First Roman War started under
Nero in 66 and was concluded under Vespasian in 74. In the late
summer of 70 Jerusalem was destroyed, the Temple burned, and
its annual tax was punitively relegated to Jupiter'S Temple on the
Roman Capitol. The Second Roman War took place under Trajan
from 115 to 117 and centered in Egypt, Cyrene, and Cyprus, but
with uprisings in Mesopotamia and possibly in Palestine as well. It
resulted in the destruction of Egyptian and especially Alexandrian
Judaism. The Third Roman War took place under Hadrian from
132 to 135 in the Jewish homeland with its leader, Simon bar
Kosiba, acclaimed by Rabbi Aqiba as the Messiah. It resulted in
the complete paganization of Jerusalem and in the empire·wide
suppression of all Jewish obsenrances (Sabbath, circumcision,
Torah study).
Thl"ee terrible wars against the full might of the Roman Empire
had affected not only the Jewish homeland but Jews throughout
the Diaspora as well. Pagans had devastated that homeland, pa-
ganized Jerusalem, destroyed the Temple, and were attempting
to suppress Judaism itself. What, then, would more and moreJews,
would most Jews, would all other Jews think of one Jewish group
which advocated fellowship with pag-<lI1s by claiming an apocalyp-
tic dispensation? It was not law, ritual, or theology, I propose, but
EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY IN COUNTERJo"ACTUAL Jo"OCUS 191
those three wars that made inevitable the isolation of Christian

Judaism and, with no middle ground any longer possible, its even-
tual replacement by Christian Paganism. Btll what if those wars had
not taken place? What would have happened to a Christian Juda-
ism still inclusive of apocalyptically acceptable pagans in that very
different situation? And what would have happened as apocalyp-
tic consummation failed to materialize?
The What If oj Persecutions

After those first three events-the move of significant Christian
Jews to Jerusalem and thence to other cities, the acceptance of
pagans into the Christian Jewish community under apocalyptic
dispensation, and the three terrible wars against Rome both in-
side and outside the Jewish homeland-was it then inevitable that
the triumphant banner of the Cross would finally be erected on
the ruins of the Capitol, to borrow Gibbon's famous phrase? I do
not think so because there is still one ultimate comrafactual ques-
tion: what if Rome had proscribed the Christian religion by the
year 50 or even 150 rather than by the year 250 when it was far
too late?
That question does not derogate in any way from the suffering
of chosen individuals or local groups under persecution from their
neighbors or execution from their governors. My question con-
cerns an empire-wide persecutional policy and such did not exist
until the middle of the third century. What I ask myself to imag-
ine is an alternative policy which proscribed Christianity as inimi-
cal to the Roman Empire, made the property of Christians forfeit
to their accusers, and the life of Christians forfeit to their judges.
Instead, the Roman Empire adopted a general policy of "don't
ask, don't tell" and a particular policy of selecti\'e execution that
created just enough martyrs to strengthen or invigorate the new
religion but not enough to weaken or destroy it
The first time when an empire-wide proscription might have
been promulgated was in the year 49 when, according to Sue-
tonius' The LIVes oj the Caesars, in The Deified ClmuLill.s 5.25, "Since
the Jews constantly made disturbances at the instigation of
Chrestus [=Christ?], he expelled them from Rome." At that stage
imperial policy combined Christian Jews and other Jews as one
common group whose internal struggles deserved general expul·
sian. It was probably unlikely that any worse fate would have re-
192 JOHN DOMINIC CROSSAN
suited from those disturbances, but Suelonius reminds us a few

lines later that Claudius "utterly abolished the cruel and inhuman
religion of the Druids among the Gauls, which under Augustus
had merely been prohibited to Roman citizens." What if Claudius
had decided to do the same for the Christians among tile Jews?
The second time when an empire-wide prohibition might have
occurred was about fifteen years later under Nero. Mter the great
Roman fire of July 64, in order to appease the terrified populace
and exculpate himself, Nero blamed, according to Tacitus' An-
nals 15.44, "and punished with the utmost refinements of cruelty
a class of men, loathed for their vices, who the crowd styled Chris-
tians ... First, then, the confessed members of the sect were ar-
rested; next, on their disclosures vast numbers were convicted, not
so much on the count of arson as for hatred of the human race."
On the one hand, misamhropy \\IaS exactly the same charge Tacitus
leveled at the Jews themselves in his Histories 5.5, and such a charge
never generated an empire-wide proscription ofJudaism. On the
other, when misanthropy led to urban arson, an empire-wide pro-
hibition of Christianity would not have been unthinkable. Maybe,
of course, such a decree coming from Nero as the Julio-Claudian
dynasty staggered into extinction, might have had a reverse effect,
but, one way or another, it never happened. Roman Christians
died in agony but elsewhere there were no repercussions. It is also
clear that by 64 the Roman authorities could distinguish quite
clearly between the religiollsly different Christian Jews and other
Jews and/ or between the ethnically different Christians and Jews.
They could persecute "Christians" without touching "Jews."
The third time when a general proscription was possible is the
most important instance of all. This is when the "don't ask, don't
tell" policy was officially and programmatically established around
112 in the correspondence between Pliny the Younger and the
emperor Trajan. As the latter's emergency governor of Bithynia-
Pontus on the southern Black Sea coast, Pliny found Christianity
accused of disturbing local economic relationships concerning
temples, animals, and sacrifices. He admitted, however, according
to Letters 10.96, that even after tonuring two deaconesses, he could
discover only a community which met together but only to hymn
Christ antiphonally as "a god," which swore together but only not
to do "any wicked deeds," and which ate together but only "food
of an ordinary and innocent kind." So whal, dear Trajan, do I do
with these Christians? The emperor's response fixed policy for
EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY IN COUNTERFACTUAL FOCUS 193
about the next 150 years. It declared three principles, according

to Letters 10.97. First, do not go and search out Christians. Sec·
ond, do not punish them as long as they repent. Third, do not
acct:pt allunYIIlOu:s accusatiuns ut:cauSt: wt: du lIut uu that surt uf
stuff anymore. On the one hand, Christianity waS not declared
exempt from pagan and imperial worship as was Judaism. On the
other, Christianity was, surely, a strange type of crime, one not to
be sought out and one to be forgiven upon repentance. That was
the moment when pagan Roman policy towards Christianity guar-
anteed pagan Roman destruction by Christianity. The alternative,
an early and empire-wide proscription of Christianity would almost
certainly have guaranteed the extinction of that religion in its
infancy.
ABSTRACT
Granted that the historical Jesus existed and was confessed as Christ and Lord,
what might have changed earliest Cht'istianity ulted)' or even stopped it com-
pletely? I propose four cvents which would have altered Christianit)' beyond at
least my CapaCil} to imaginc. What if all of carlicst Christianity had stayed among
the small hamlets of rural Galilee rather than some of it moving immediately to
great cities like Jerusalem, Damascus, and Antioch? What if earliest Clll'islianity
had not accepted pagans alongside Je,,·s within the new csch:Hological COllllnu-
nity of God? What if lhree revolts within seventy years. inside and outside the
Jewish homeland, had not brought down upon it the destructive \'engeance of
the Roman empire? What if that same empire had not adopted a ~don't ask, don't
tell" attitude towards earliest Christianity but made it immediately a forbidden
superstition?
IF JERUSALEM STOOD: THE DESTRUCTION OF
JERUSALEM AND CHRISTIAN ANTI:/UDAISM
PHEME PERKINS
Boston Colwgr
A War withQut Cause

00 wars have a reason? The currenl furor over a reVISIOnist view
of Britain's entry into the First World War shows that even the
most established historical conclusions can be challenged. l Histo-
rians look for the cumulative, fatal steps which bring belligerents
to the point from which they can no longer turn hack from disas-
trous conflict. For the Jewish hislOrian, Josephus, his countrymen
reached that point when a pro-rebellion party gained control of
the high priesthood and Temple in Jerusalem. The}' threw down
the gauntlet by rejecting offerings from foreigners and canceling
the daily sacrifices on behalf of the Roman emperor. Internal strife
broke out among the leaders of the people. Experts cited prece-
dents in the Law for such sacrifices. King Agrippa sent lJ'oops in
support of those who sought to pull back from the breech (War
2.408-67). In the end, all such attempts failed. Violence spilled
over into skirmishes between Jewish and Gentile residents of sur-
rounding cities. Hatred be(\veen the Jewish community and the
populace of Alexandria erupted again (War 2.488-508). The re-
bellion among diaspora Jews in 116-117 cr would spell the end of
prominent Jewish colonies in Egypt and Cyrenaica. 2
Diaspora Jews were not indifferent to the fate of the Jerusalem
Temple. 3 After the revolt, offerings once sent for its support were
extended and converted to Roman use for the temple of Jupiter
ISce Niall Ferguson, The Pity oj War (New York: Basic Books, 1999).
2 John M.G. Barclay,jew.! in the Medilnraneml Diaspora: From Altxander to Trajan
(323 BCE-I / 7 CE) (Berkeley: University of California Press. 1996), pp. 11. 36,
74-79.
~ Philo's accouTlIs of Temple offerings and envoys from lhe diaspora tOJerusa-
lelll (I..Pgal 155-5(;: Sf'''''. l.pg. 1.57_7S) ~hnw Slrnng ,ies rn rhe aCIIl,,1 Tcmp"·. Al_
legorical interprelation (as in Vg. All. 3.11) docs not undermine lhe significance
of the Holy Place. Sce PedeI' Borgen, PIli{o oj AltxlIndria: An EXfgelt Jar His Time
(NT Sup, 86; Leiden: Brill, 1997), pp. 18-21.
DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM AND CHRISTIAN ANTI-JUDAISM 195
Capitolinus (War 7.218; Cassius Dio, Hisl 66.7.2). In Egypt, it

meant that Jews had to be registered. The social significance of
that registration should not be underestimated. A community that
once prided itself on being as much a cultured elite as the
"Greeks" was now lower than the Egyptian peasanlS. 4 The Sibylline
oracles register the shock in response to the Temple's destruc-
tion (Sib. 01'.5.398-401): "I saw the second Temple thrown head-
long, soaked in fire by an impious hand, the ever-nourishing
guardian Temple of God made by holy people." For Tacitus'
Roman audience, heavenly portents indicated that the gods had
departed the Temple and approved the imperial ascendancy of
ule Flavian victors (Hist. 5.13)."
Scholars have tended to emphasize the bar Kochba I"ebellion
as the definitive end to aJewish Christian presence inJudea. 6 Only
non:Jewish Christians remained in Jerusalem (Eusebius, /-list. Eccl.
4.5). Would either the diaspora rebellion with its disastrous con-
sequences for Alexandrian Jewry or the bar Kochba uprising with
the harsh divisions between Christian Jews who refused to suppon
the messianic claims of Simon bar Kochba Uustin Manyr, Dial.
31.6)7 have occurred if that earlier revolt had not ended in the
fiery destruction of the Temple city? Probably not. The anti-Ro-
man fury of the Sibylline oracles (Sib. Or. 5.150-78) renects the
ideological passion behind the events of 116-17 CF.. 8
i Barclay,jf'tJs, pp. 7&77.

~ Manin Goodman, "jews, Greeks ,lIld Romans," ill M. Goodman (ed.),jell!S
ill u Gm:t>-Romun World (Oxford: ClarcndOIl Prcss, 1998), p. 7. Goodman obscrvcs
that thc silcncc conccrning thc lallcr rebcllion should not be intcrprctcd as lack
of importance to Roman policy in thc East. An ~inglol'iousM connict had no l'OIe
in Hadrian's imperial propaganda.
6 See j .D.G. Dunn, Tht Par/iugs of the Ways betw,en Christionity (!.lid jurlaism and
Their Significance for th, Charnettr of Chrislirmil)' (Philadelphia: Trinit}, Press Intcr-
national. 1991), pp. 23()..50; Stcphcn G. \Vilson, IlL/atttl Strangers: jews and Chris·
tians 70-/70 c.E. (Minncapolis: FOrlrcss Press. 1995). pp. 4-9.
7 Richard Bauckharn ("jews andjcwish Chrislians in thc Land of Israel at thc
Time of the Bar Kochba War, with spccial reference to the Apocalypse of Pctcr,~
in Graham N. Stanton & Guy G. Stroumsa (eds.), To/trunce allli/nlolt:rullu ill farly
Judaism und Christiunity [Cambridge: Cambridge UniversilY Press. 19981. pp. 228-
29) pointS out that the bar Kochba leiters provide indepcndcnt confirmation of
se\'crc mcasures takcn against any jews who did not join his rebellion. Christians
wcrc not singled Ollt as Christians. However. thcir belief ill jesus mcssiah made
it unlikely that Christians would support a movcmcnt whose lcader claimed to
be God's anointed. Drh'cn from jerus.11ctll, any who had not supported the rc-
bellion would find thcmselves unwelcomc amolllo:" the rcfuj;tcs in Galilec. Thus
Bauckhalll concludcs that lhc bar Kochba rcbellion may havc spellcd the cnd of
jcwish Christianity wcst of thc jordan (p. 235).
~ So Barclay,Jews, pp. 22&27. Barclay notcs that ajudcan refugec WllO Slirred
196 PHEME PERKINS
To return to the murky issue of cause, both Josephus and early

Christian traditions blame fateful moments of choice in which con-
ciliatory and moderate voices were overwhelmed by those seeking
armed confrontation. Prophetic sayings attributed to Jesus (Luke
13:34-35; 19:41-44) embraced both the crucifixion ofJesus and the
later destruction of Jerusalem as examples of flawed judgment.9
These sayings do not invoke divine punishment for the death of
Jesus as cause of Jerusalem's fall. 1O Faced with the tragic result of
human folly, Luke invites readers to consider the possibility that
events might have been othenvise (v. 42).11
This question concerns both Jewish history in general and the
particular question of how Christians came to represclll their rools
in God's covenant with the people of IsraeL Without the evenls
of 66-70 eE, the Gospel narratives would tell the story from the
perspective ofJews who believe in Jesus messiah, not from that of
a movemelll dominated by non:Jews. Christian sources see in the
destruClion of the Temple powerful confirmation of Jesus' word
(Mark 13:2).12 The "just punishment" view appears in the Gospels
(Matt. 22:6-7; Mark 12:9). Christians also began attributing their
own sufferings to Jewish opposition (e.g. I Thess. 2:14-16), even
when Jf'WS h"rI nOlhing 10 rio with tht' situ:uion. 13 Such claims
up rebellion in Cyrene (Josephus. lVar 7.437-53) may have represented the

interests of less assimilated lower class jews. However, lhe Roman retaliation
included lllany of the propertied class. Oepl'i\'cd of leaders inclined toward
accommodation, the jewish community in Cyrene was ..ipe fOl' the subsequent
rebellion (Barclay, Jews, pp. 239-42).
9 See joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Gospel According /0 Luke X-XXIV (New York:
Doubleday, 1985), pp. 1034-36. Luke 13:34-35 adopts the genre of prophetic la-
ment (comparejeremiah's lament over the death of josiah in 2 Chron. 35:25),
Whether the abandoned "house~ refers to the Temple or to the city as a whole
cannOt be deLCrmined. Fitzmyer nOtes that 4QFlor 1.5-6 speaks of the abandoned
house and in 4QFlor 1.10 bit is explained as zar'likii ~your offspring." The phrase
echoesjer. 22:5 (pp. 1036-37). Luke 19:41-44 has been formulated as a reflec-
tion on the city's fate at the hands of the Romans combined with traditional lan-
guage about Nebuchadnezzar's capture of the city (Pl'. 1254-55).
10 This explanation was already employed in the allegory of Matt 22:6-7 and
is assumed 10 be the meaning of Luke 19:44 by Origen (see c. CiLium 2.8).
11 Fitzmyer's translation, "\VQuld that )'ou, n.Jnl JOll, had recog'P1iud,~ highlights
the pathOS of the verse (Fitzmyer, Luke, p. 1258).
I' This tradition, in turn, led Chri~tianjews to dissociate themseh'es from bar
Kochba's claim to be God's agent who would reStore and rebuild the Temple
(so Bauckham, ".Jews and Jewish Christians,~ pp. 232-33).
n judith Lieu (MAccusations ofJewish Persecutions in Early Christian Sources,
with Particular Refcrence to justin Martyr and the Martyrdom of Polyca'l),M in
Stanton and Stroumsa (cds.). "lblerance and Intolerance, pp. 280-83) points OUt that
would not have become fixed in the Christian imagination if con·

ciliato!)' voices had stemmed the move toward rebellion in 66-67
CEo Nor is the association between anti:Judaism and the fall of
Jerusalem peculiar to Christian sources. Tacitus introduced his
report of Titus' great military victory with an account of Jewish
origins crafted to show that despite its antiquity, the Jewish way of
life is abominable and impious (Hisl. 5.1-6). His histol)' fixed the
Greco-Egyptian version of anti:Judaism as common property in tJle
Western tradition. 14
Roman antipathy toward the spread ofJewish customs antedates
the Jewish War. Cicero's Pro Fiacco warns of the political dangers
of such a closely knit group (Pro Plar. 28.66). Tiberius expelled
Egyptians and Jews in 19 BCE in what appears to be a move against
foreign cults that were attracting adherents (Tacitus, An'n. 2.85.4;
Suetonius, Tiberius 36; Cassius Dio, Hisl. 67.18.5) .15 Would such
sentiments, of themselves, support the emergence of anti:Judaism
among Gentile Christians who had to establish both lineage and
identity for their community? Probably nolo Without the Jewish
War-and its literal)' remains in Josephus, Tacitus and the Chris-
tian canon-Jews would not be distinguished from other ethnic
groups. Martin Goodman points out that "if knowledge of Juda·
ism was not greatly augmented by the survival of much internal
literature presclved for special reasons by later Jews and Chris·
tians, historians would still be a""He of the Jews as a distinct eth·
nic and religious group, but Jews would not seem anything like as
marginal in the Greco-Roman world as they do when their own,
often jaundiced, views of the outside provide the basis for under·
standing them."IB
Jerusalem and the Public Image ojJews

Whatever the intent of the portrayal of Jews in Acts, their reli·
gious and political authority is inextricably bound up with Jerusa·
lem and its Temple. Christians assemble there (Acts 2:46; 3: 11·26;
21:23·26), and they remain subject to disciplinary actions of its
Christians had a fixed perception that they were persecuted by ~Jews~ ill
rulfilment or prophetic texIS concerning lhe suffering or [he righteous.
Ii See Peter Scharer,./udtophobia: Allituda toward the Jews in the Ancimt World
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. 1997). pp. 15-33.
1~ Scharer, JluftOfJhobia. pp. 108-111.
16 Goodman, MJews," p. 13.
198 PHEME PERKINS
authorities (4:1-4). Opposition to that order leads to martyrdom

(6:8-8:1) and the scattering of Christians outside the city (8:1-8).
A mob seeks to kill Paul on a rumor that he brought one of his
non-Jewish converts beyond the barrier that separated Jew and
non:lew (21 :27-31). Roman intelvention providentially results in
the apostle's witness to the gospel in Rome (23:11; 28:17-31)-
but not before two years of imprisonment during which Jewish
leaders are described as plotting to have the aposLle tried in a hos-
tile Jerusalem, or even assassinated (23: 12-22). These events con-
firm the picture of Jews and civic politics eSlablished by Luke's
narrative. Jews stir up trouble for innocent Christians, accusing
them of disregard for the Law and Roman order (17:6-7; 18:13;
24:12·13), even though it is they who generate civic discord. Such
narratives reinforce the Christian tendency to see themselves as
victims ofJewish malice. Stephen Wilson remarks, "Luke's distinc-
tive approach is to project the relationship between Jews and
Christians onto the public stage and in the presence of a third
party. In so doing, of course, the dispute ceases to be intra mums.
Christian enmity loward Jews becomes a public affair."'7
Is this public enmity linked to the Jewish War? The peculiar de-
tail of Paul's exchange with the Tribune in Acts 21 :37-39 assumes
that the reader would be familiar with the sicarii Uosephus, Ant.
20.186). The Tribune mistakes Paul for an Egyptian Jew whose
band had been repulsed by Felix Uosephus, War 2.261-63; Ant.
20.169-72).18 To the Tribune, Paul presents himself as aJew of
impeccable civic credentials, "citizen" ofTarsus. 19 This declaration
anticipates the dramatic claim of inherited Roman citizenship su-
perior to that bought by the Tribune at 22:25--29. 20 To the crowd,
Paul presents himself as a zealous Jew with strong ties to Jerusa-
lem. Obedient to divine revelation, he joined the movement he
had once persecuted. God sent Paul from an unbelieving Jerusa-
l' Wilson, Hewlfd Stral/grTS, pp. 67-71.

18 c.K.Barrctl, A Critical alld Exegetiral Commenlary 011 tlu Acts of the Apostks.
Volume II. II/Iraduclion al1d Co1lltrUmimy OIl Acts XV-XXVIII (Edinburgh: T. & T.
Clark, 1998), pp. 1024-26.
19 Whethcr or notJcws werc technically enrollcd citizens of Tarsus as lhe IeI'm
politiS suggcslS remains in doubt for lack of secure evidence (Barrelt, Acts XV·
XXVIII. p. 1026).
20 Thc basis for Paul's claim has also been challenged by hiSlorians, since
Paul nevcr makes such a claim in his lellers. Lukc's readers may have assumed
that he carried a document allcsling to his cilizen origins (see Barren. Acls XV-
XXl'lll, pp. 1048-49).
lem to the Gentiles (22:1-21). Paul has indirectly answered the

charges of inciting people to disrespect the Temple and abandon
the Jewish way of life (21 :21_29).ZI The violence which eruplS when
Paul speaks of his divinely sanctioned departure (22:21-23) proves
the crowd umvilling to accept God's revelation. If God sends the
apostle away from Jerusalem, should one not anticipate God's own
departure? Could this account with its strain of anti:Judaism have
even been formulated without the events of 66-70 CE? Hardly. Even
the most virulent legends concerning the expulsion of Jews from
Egypt as polluted lepers recognize that they became a nation by
banding together in Judea and founding Jerusalem. 22
The status of Jerusalem as the civic and religious center ofJew-
ish identity had been enhanced by the building program of Herod
the Creat, whose architectural projects echoed and even in-
fluenced Augustan Rome. 23 Initial construction on the Temple
began after Augustus' visit to Syria (ca. 20 BeE). Shortly after its
dedication to celebrate Herod's accession (17 BeE), Herod visited
Rome. Augustus' mausoleum may have inspired his Herodion. z4
The Antonia fortress exemplifies Herod's practice of naming
buildings or even whole cities after Roman leaders. z:, The Temple
was legendary for length of construction, some seventy years
(Josephus, War 5.184-237; Ant. 15.380-423). Herod, himself, was
more interested in the buildings that made up the area, the stoas,
basilicas, and other Roman elements (Philo, Spec. Leg. 71), than
the Temple sannuary.26 The awed reaction of Jesus' disciples
(Mark 13:1-2) reflects the impact of such monumental architec-
ture on the visitor.
Was the Temple with its Herodian (and Roman) associations
the focus of rebellious discontent by dispossessed Galilean peas-
ants? Jesus' prediction that God would lake the vineyard away fmm
its present tenants and bestow it on others (Mark 12:9) has been
21 Barrett, Acts XV-XXVIII. pp. 1031-32.

:rz Schafer. JlUlwPhobifl, pp. 15-22.
23 See Duane \-\1. Roller, The Building {'rogmlll of Hrrod the Great (Berkeler Uni·
versily of Califomia Press. 1998), pp. 33-53.
2i Roller, BUIlding Program. pp. 6&-73.
2~ Rollcr, Buill/jug Program, pp. 87, 175-76. The only Roman slructure 10 rc·
tain its idclltification with ~lark Amonr aftcr 30 110:. Its function was primarily
mililary, to solidify Hcrod's COlllrol of the city, Jlot to guard the Tcmple are as
Herod lalcr claimed Oosephus, Ani. 15.292).
'l6 Rollcr. Bwlding Program. p. 177.
200 PHEME PERKINS
interpreted as a call to rebellion against the Jerusalem elite. 27 At·

tempts to allribute this view to Jesus or Palestinian Christians prior
to the Temple's destruction discount the civic and religious pride
evoked by this stunning architectural achievemenl. Destruction of
the Temple would be nothing less than divine judgment against
the nation. Such condemnation is the intent of Mark 12;9, as its
links with lsa. 5: 1·5 suggesl. 28
And ifJerusalem stood? Jewish exegesis read the vineyard song
of Isaiah 5 as a sign of God's mercy and the eternal election of
Israel. 29 The Christian inversion of this tradition into a permanent
mark of divine condemnation against Israel would not have been
plausible. The violence in the parable as well as the sufferings of
Mark J3:9-13 may represent the fate of Christians in the turmoil
of the Jewish War. 30
A series of coins illustrates the public function of temple archi-
tecture. A coin of Agrippa I (43/44 a) shows the facade of the
temple of Augustus and Roma at Caesarea. Another of Philip (8/
9 CE), the temple of Augustus at Paneion (?). Finally, a tetra-
drachm from the bar Kochba revolt (132 CE) shows the facade of
the Jerusalem Temple.~1 Clearly the I-Ierodian dynasts advertise
their construction of temples to Augustus as evidence of ties to
the Roman imperial family. The coin from the second revolt sug-
gests that rebuilding the Jerusalem Temple was envisaged as a
component of restored independence.
This series of coins exhibits the public, political significance of
temple building in antiquity. When Jerusalem stood, diasporaJews
appealed to Roman power LO protecL the funds collecLed for
Jerusalem from being confiscaLed by local civic officials (Josephus,
:n James D. Hester, MSocio-rhetoricaJ Criticism and the Parable of the Ten-

ants," JSNT 45 (1992), pp. 27-57; Craig A. Evalls, ~Jesus' Par-..bJe of the Tenant
Farmcrs in LiglH of Lease Agrcclllcllls in Antiquity,~ jSP 14 (1996), pp. 65-83;
Edward H. Horne, MThc Parable of the Tcnants as Indietment.~ JSNT 71 (1998),
pp. 111-16.
28 Joel Marcus. ~The Intertextual Polemic of the Markan Vineyard Parable,~
in Stanton and StrOllll1Sa (cds.), To{enl1lcea"d I"tolerance, pp. 211-13. Marcus notes
that Mark has deliberately misread Isaiah. In Isaiah, the vineyard suffers dam-
age. In Mark, lhe tenants are destroyed.
:19 ~'Iarcus treats lhe allusion to Isa. 5 in a vel)' fmgmenlary text 4QBentdiction
(4Q500) as equating lhe Vineyard 10 the garden of Eden. He also notes that
rabbinic tradition inverts the Isaiah text by having pagans vandalize the vine-
yard out of hatred for its owncr (Ptsiq. Rob. Ka/I. 16.9; p. 215).
50 So Marcus, ~Polemic,M p. 217.
51 Roller, Building Program, p. 198.
Ant. 16. 162-65). City officials probably resented the fact thatJews
sent money to Jerusalem and did not contribute LO maintaining
temples that were the focus of local civic identity. They had rea-
son LO reject Jews seeking LO be enrolled as citizens in the polis,~2
Imposition of the "Jewish tax" at the conclusion of the War
might have lessened the on-going tensions between Jews and their
neighbors in these cities. That Asia Minor Jews did not partici-
pate in either the revolt of 66-70 CE or 116-117 CE suggests that
Herod's Temple was emblematic of Jewish integration illlO the
Roman order, not of opposition to il.~~ Josephus reflects the sen-
timents of moderately assimilated, upper class Jews when he con-
cludes that Titus cannot have ordered the burning and looting of
the Temple. It must have been carried out by disobedient, unruly
troops (War 6,254-77). Titus' subsequent progress through tbe
province of Syria, besLOwing tbe spoils on its cities and displaying
captives (War 7.20, 36-40, 96) makes this account implausible to
us, but not necessarily to ancient readers. Josephus explains that
on his return through the ruined city, Titus did not boast that he
had conquered such a mighty fortress, but lamented the splen-
dor and greatness brought down by the folly of a few (War 7.119-
20).
Re-visioning the Christian Nwmtive

When outsiders spoke of persons in their own cities as "Jews,"
they implied Judean origins or worship of a god whose sanctuary
was in Judea.~4 As a whole, the Gospel narratives advance a
strikingly supercessionist socio-religious agenda in image", which
alludes to the destruction of that sanctua",.~s The veil to the
32 Barclay, jews. pp. 271-78.

33 Barclay, jews, p. 281,
3i See the extensive discussion of {he complex meanings of 'Jew- illcluding
the problem of Herod as 'Jcw- in Sharc J.D. Cohcn, The Beginnings ojjewishness:
Boundaries, Varielies. Uncmlli"ties (Berkcley: University of California. 1999), pp,
3--106.
3~ Excgetes generally treat John 19:30 as a declaration that Jcsus has accom-
plished the mission for which he was scnt by the Father (john 17:1-5; see Ray-
mond E. Brown. The Death of the MeJSiah I New York: Doubleday, 1994]. IIp. 1077-
78). However, Fran{ois Blanchetiere suggests that the narrath'e would also have
1I~ r~:l(1 ~il i~ finidw(l- a~ Iht' f'ml In JlIdai~m (KTlw Thrt'f'rnld r:hri~riar1 AnTi.
Judaism,M in Stanton and Stroumsa [eds.], Toltrarll:eond Intolerance, p. 187).John'$
gospel substiUltcs thc body of The riscn Jesus for the deslro)"ed Temple (john
2:13-22) and true worship of God, without temple buildings, for the cultic sanc·
202 PHEME PERKINS
sanctuary is symbolically rent when Jesus dies on the cross (Mark

15:38),36 Contrary to Israel's sense of divine election, the Gospels
assert that God has rejected Israel for a new covenant people,
those who confess Jesus as messiah. 37
After 70 CE, evcl),day life continued for most Jews with little
change.:i8 Those living in Palestine between 70 and 110 CE prob-
ably did not expect the Temple to remain in ruins. 39 But the
Christian slory soon became deeply entwined in an antijudaism
thal was supported by a Jerusalem in ruins. Such principled anti-
Temple ideology as one finds in the speeches of Acts 7:44-50 and
17:24-25 shows that for Luke, at least, the time for Jerusalem and
its Temple was over (Luke 21:24).<10 [fJerusalem stood, such claims
would not have been credible.
Blanchetiere proposes that the deep seated "fear of the jews"
in the Fourth Gospel (john 7:13; 9:22; 12:42; 20:19,26) and Acts
(12: I, 17) stems from the experiences of Nazarenes (jewish Chris·
tians) in judea and Galilee during the jewish War and ilS after·
math. 41 If jerusalem slood, the Nazarenes would have remained
embedded in the jewish communities of judea and Galilee. The
Fourth Gospel formalizes both "fear of the jews" and jesus' trium-
phant witness "to the world" in terms of synagogue and Temple
(john 18:20). The jerusalem Temple and ilS feaslS are the center
of jesus' activity in that Gospel. 42 With fine-tuned irony, the evan-
gelist reminds his readers that jewish leaders-not the actions of
jesus and his followers-led to the Roman destruction of the city
(john 11:45-53). This result coheres with the consistent charges
throughout the Gospel that the "jews" are untrue to their own
tradition. They do not grasp the testimony of Scripture (5:39-40;
10:31-39), the Torah (7:19) or of their ancestor, Abraham (8:39-
tllaries of both Samaritans and Jews (4: 19-26). Scholars have also recognized that
a paltern ofJewish feasts and symbols for which Jesus is the sllbHitlilc dominates
John's narrative (see Raymond E. Brown, TM Gospe/ According /ojohn (I·XlI) [AB,
29; New York: Doubleday, 1966], pp. 201-204).
56 Brown, Death, pp. 1098-1106.
n Blancheti6'e, "Christian Anti:Judaism," p. 187.
56 This continuity was e\'en lIUC for Jews living ill Palestine, so Doron Mendels,
The Rise and Fall of jf:wish Na/iolla/ism: jewish Qlld Chris/iall Elhnici/y in Allcitm/
Palestine (Grand Rapids: Ecrdmans. 1992). pp. 201, 253.
!19 Mendels, jewish Nationalism, p. 254.
010 Wilson, Strtmger, pp. 63-64.
41 BlanchCticre, ~Chrislian Anti:Judaism.
Mpp. 189-91.
42 Judith M. Lieu, ~Tell1ple and Synagogue inJohn,M NTS45 (1999), pp. 51-
69.
44).'" Pilate forces theJewish leaders to reject the kingship ofJesus

(and God) for that of Caesar (19:15).
BOlh Luke 19:42-44 and John 11:45.53 link the fall of Jerusa·
lem with failure to receh'e Jesus messiah. Luke 19:28-44 has Jesus
make a royal entry to the city without the appropriate social rec-
ognition: appearance of civic officials outside the city to greet the
dignitary on approach, a hierarchically ordered crowd of the
people in festal clothing and the like..... Everyone knew that cities
tendered the insult of an inappropriate welcome to kings and their
emissaries at considerable peril. Jesus' disciples presume that brim-
stone would be suitable punishment for the Samal;tan village that
refused him a welcome (Luke 9:52_54).45
These examples indicate that the canonical Gospels have in-
vested the fall of Jerusalem with considerable importance at the
rhetorical level. Whether it is the ironic comment on the cause of
the city's disaster in Luke and John, the symbolism of the with-
ered, fruitless fig tree framing Jesus' cleansing of the Temple in
Mark (Mark 11: 12-21), or the angry king who sends an expedi-
tion to destroy the city of those who refuse the wedding invitation
in Matt. 22:7, each ev.angelist has gone beyond Jesus' prophetic
word concerning the fate of the Temple (Mark 13:2). The evan·
gelists ha\"e exploited the fate ofJerusalem as a powerful piece of
evidence in favor of their claims about Jesus as Israel's messiah.
Look what happened to Jerusalem, they say. One neglects the
advent of this divinely anointed king to one's peril.
Had Jerusalem stood, Christianity would have retained a reli-
gious center in Jerusalem. It could not so rapidly dispense with
the Temple as focus of God's presence. Paul's personal conflicts
with Jewish Christian autho.·ities like James could not have been
so quickly generalized as founding statements for a new co,·enant
people. If Jerusalem stood, fo.·ms of tradition which antedate our
present Gospels might be Christian ScripLUre: Jesus' prophetic
words, wisdom sayings and parables; Jesus' mighty deeds; Jesus'
debates with other religious authorities, even Jesus' death and res-
urrection as the fate of Cod's righteous one. Christianity would
4) Robert K)'s:l.r. ·Anti-Semitism and the Gospel or John,· in Craig A. E\~..ns
and Donald A. HOlgner (eds.), A"li..&nflll511f a"d Early Christia"i,,: [nun of Poinnic
a"d Faith (Minneapolis: fonress Prcss, 1993), p. 115.
44 Brcnt Kinman, ·ParousiaJesus: ·f\.Triumphar Entry. and thc Fate orJenlsa-
lem (Luke 19.28-44): JBL 118 (1999). pp. 279-94.
4) Kinman, KParousia Jesus.- pp. 283-84.
204 PHEME PERKINS
own its Jewish roots by birthright and incorporation of Gentiles

into God's people. It would Ilot have buill a heritage of anti:Juda-
ism into its narratives or turned the ruins or Cod's holy place into
weapons against those who did not accept Jesus as messiah-anti-
Judaism would not be inscribed in Christian imagination.
ABSTRACT
Asking what would have been the case had the Jewish War of 6&-70 CE 110t
ended with the destruction of the Temple demonstrates the momentous conse-
quence! of those events for the histol)' of Christianity and of ami:Judaism in
\Vcslenl culture. ThaI the war might not have occurred or might have been
nipped in the bud is a consensus view ofJewish. Roman and primitive Christian
authors. That its consequences fueled a perception of Jews as abominable or
rightly abandoned by their own God call be documented in both Roman and
Chrinian texlS. I~ut the most disastrous consequence of the evenlS of 6&70 C£
was thc ami':1udaism which is embedded in thc Christian imagination through
thc canonical Gospels, Their accounts of lhe divinely authorized breech between
followers of Jesus messiah and fellow Jcws would ncvcr ha\'c becn crcdible had
moderate Jcwish miccs quellcd the rcbellion. Christianity would havc rcmaincd
a Jcwish movcment which incorporated Gentilcs into God's peoplc and anti':1l1~
daism would not havc becn inscribed on thc Wcstcm imagination.

Virtual History and The Bible

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Description:

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

Virtual History and The Bible

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

VIRTUAL HISTORY

AND THE BIBLE

Cover design: TopicA (Antoincuc Hanekuyk)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Die Deutsche Bibliothek - CIP-Einbeitsaufnalune

Q Copyright 2000 by Koninklfjke Brilln<\ Ltidell, Tlu Nethtrlilluu

Authorkation /{J photocopy itemsjor internal or persoTllll

PRI:vrED IN THE NETHERLA."DS

[RJecourse to divine intcr.clllion to explain the

No one knows better than a biblical hiSlOrian that the millen-

did not have the account of Sennacherib's third campaign or the

evidence indicated were actually considered at the time. Some-

Virtual history is another matter, involving speculation of a dif-

• Whitelam, pp. 11-12 in this volume.

histo'}' as counterfactuals or "simulations based on calculations

7 Ferguson. "Introduaion," p. 85.

histories as a matter of course. HisLOrical causality is Yahweh's, a

What if Merneptah's scribes were telling the truth? It makes little

" Thompson. p. 54 in this volumc.

persecuted more systematically, it could have failed to take root. 17

In their vat;ous ways, the essays in this volume open a window

The Limits of Scepticism

century, signalling a relUrn to the situation where archaeology is

refers to Israel as a distinguishable entity in Palesline'(1995: 596).2

2 Kitchen (1998: 100-103) discusses the meillion of Israel on the Mernepmh

The response, of course, as to why scholars ignore the plain

~ See Miller (1997: 18,22) on lhe use of plausibilily or verisimililude as a

counterfaetual question-'What if Merneptah's scribes were tell-

Ethnicily and Merneptah s Israel

The essentialist notion of ethnicity, which assumes a natural and

chic Israel. Dever (1993: 23*; 1996: 15-16), in appealing to a

It is increasingly recognized that the material culture of Iron

Age highland settlements in Palestine reflect environmental and

12 The se\'cring of this nccessary connection between Merneptah's Israel and

The Transfonnation oj Iron Age Palestine

l~ It has to be recognized thaI the term 'ethnicity' is 'of increasingly limited

landsY The material culture of these villages-pillared buildings,

the dislocations of the Mediterranean economy, with the prolif-

A consideration of coulHerfactuals in history highlights, as

Israel had been wiped out. Of course, if Memeplah's scribes had

Perhaps one of the most interesting "what if' questions one

commentators had reckoned. But he then asked about some of

One might argue that on flat ground, the column could be

quired to spend forty years in the wilderness. Some small portion

move peacefully through your land, you say no? Of course, it is

opposing Egyptian forces were about the same. Israel's troop

the new generation. It is unlikely that only a large unskilled popu-

having a uuoat-hold on much of the trade. commerce. and com-

A lot of ~what ir situations in history can be imagined, with inlcresting resulL'!.

Bagnall, Roger S., and Bruce W, Frier

What if Judges had been written by a Philistine? The flip an-

sand Philistines. But he is rash, to the point of being a fool; as

The agent who returns Samson lO shackles is, of course, Delilah,

Miltoll's Delilah even goes so far as to consider what the content

To put the maller another way: Israelite tradition has given us as

, As brilliantly catalogued by j.C. Exum in ~Why, Why, 'Vhy, Delilah?~ in Plot~

Judg. 16:4-22 tOJael inJudg. 5:24-27. for example, inJudg. 5:24-

Many commentators, though, prefer an altcmate rendition, argu-

9 See, for example. B. Halpem. MThc Resourceful Israelitc Ilistorian: The

geslS that !uber, the Hebrew cognate of !Jibrutn, should be similarly

wcst Semitic Designations for Elective Social Affiliations," JANESCU 18 (1986).

region's nobility (the lords of the Philistines come to Delilah in