J. Cheryl Exum, H. G. M. Williamson Reading From Right To Left Essays On The Hebrew Bible in Honour of David J. A. Clines JSOT Supplement 2003 PDF

JOURNAL FOR THE STUDY OF THE OLD TESTAMENT
SUPPLEMENT SERIES
373
Editors
David J.A. Clines
Philip R. Davies
Executive Editor
Andrew Mein
Editorial Board
Richard J. Coggins, Alan Cooper, J. Cheryl Exum, John Goldingay,
Robert P. Gordon, Norman K. Gottwald, John Jarick,
Andrew D.H. Mayes, Carol Meyers, Patrick D. Miller
Sheffield Academic Press

A Continuum imprint
Reading from Right

to Left
Essays on the Hebrew Bible in
Honour of David J.A. Clines
edited by
J. Cheryl Exum
and
H.G.M. Williamson
Journal for the Study of the Old Testament

Supplement Series 373
Copyright 2003 T & T Clark International

A Continuum imprint
Published by T & T Clark International
The Tower Building, 11 York Road, London SE1 7NX
15 East 26th Street, Suite 1703, New York, NY 10010
www.continuumbooks.com
Reprinted 2004
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in
any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording or any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in
writing from the publishers.
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Typeset and edited for Continuum by Forthcoming Publications Ltd
www.forthcomingpublications.com
Printed on acid-free paper in Great Britain by Antony Rowe Ltd, Chippenham

ISBN 0-8264-6686-9
CONTENTS
Preface
Abbreviations
List of Contributors
WHAT WAS A BIBLICAL PROPHET? WHY DOES IT MATTER?
ix
xv
xix
A. Graeme Auld
A PUZZLE IN DEUTERONOMY
13
James Barr
THE PROPHET ODED AND THE ZAKKUR INSCRIPTION: A CASE OF

OBSCURIORE OBSCURUM?
25
Hans M. Barstad
AN EARLY METACOMMENTARY: TERTULLIAN'S AGAINST MARCION
John Barton
38
THE UNITY OF THE BOOK OF ISAIAH: ANOTHER ATTEMPT AT

BRIDGING THE GORGE BETWEEN ITS Two MAIN PARTS
Willem A.M. Beuken
50
THE ONE IN THE MIDDLE
63
Joseph Blenkinsopp
THEME REVISITED: BREADAGAIN! 76
76
Walter Brueggemann
A TRIBUTE TO THE BOOK LIST OF SOTS

Brevard S. Childs
90
Reading from Right to Left
vi
THE PEOPLE OR THE BOOK
95
Richard J. Coggins
TRAGEDY AND ETHICS : REVISITING ATHENS AND JERUSALEM
107
Philip R. Davies
A PHRASE IN A PHOENICIAN PAPYRUS AND A PROBLEM IN

ISAIAH 5.14
121
J.A. Emerton
SONG OF SONGS AS AN 'ANSWER' TO CLINES'S BOOK OF JOB
128
Tamara Cohn Eskenazi
'THE VOICE OF MY LOVER': DOUBLE VOICE AND POETIC ILLUSION

IN SONG OF SONGS 2.8-3.5
141
J. Cheryl Exum
WISDOM AND THE SELF-PRESENTATION OF WISDOM LITERATURE

Michael V. Fox
153
So WHAT MIGHT THE SONG OF SONGS Do TO THEM?
173
John Goldingay
THE EPHRAIMITE MESSIAH AND THE TARGUM(S) TO

ZECHARIAH12.10
184
Robert P. Gordon
THE PUZZLING POLITICS OF ANCIENT ISRAEL
196
Norman K. Gottwald
WERE THE PRE-MACCABEAN HIGH PRIESTS 'ZADOKITES ' ?
205
Lester L. Grabbe
'LAWLESS RIOT AND INTESTINE DIVISION': JUDGES 19-21 AND

CIVIL WAR IN ENGLAND AND NORTH AMERICA, 1628-1786
216
David M. Gunn
THE ROLE OF THE POOR IN PROVERBS

Walter J. Houston
229
Contents
INSIGHTS ON JOB 3, FROM A MEDIEVAL COMMENTARY:

RABBI SAMUEL BEN MEIR (RASHBAM) ON THE BOOK OF JOB
vii
241
Sara Japhet
WHICH PARTS OF 1 ENOCH WERE KNOWN TO JUBILEES!

A NOTE ON THE INTERPRETATION OF JUBILEES 4.16-25 254
254
Michael A. Knibb
GOD's RIGHTEOUSNESS IN THE ORIGINAL AND IN TRANSLATIONS

Joze Krasovec
263
FROM DAVID TO DAVID: PSALM 24 AND DAVID CLINES
275
Francis Landy
TWELVE COMMANDMENTSTHREE STAGES: A NEW THEORY

ON THE FORMATION OF THE DECALOGUE
290
Bernhard Lang
HOLY PERSUASION: THE BIBLE AS ADVERTISING
301
Burke O. Long
MAN AND WOMAN: TOWARD A THEOLOGICAL ANTHROPOLOGY

Patrick D. Miller
320
THE REBEL IN BIBLE LANDS
329
Johannes C. de Moor
'THE CONSOLATIONS OF GOD': ASSESSING JOB'S FRIENDS ACROSS

A CULTURAL ABYSS
347
Carol A. Newsom
NADAB AND ABIHU
359
RolfRendtorff
THE WISDOM FORMULA 'Do NOT SAY. ..' AND THE ANGEL IN
QOHELET5.5
Alexander Rofe
364
viii
MEASURABLE AND IMMEASURABLE: THEMES IN OLD TESTAMENT

THEOLOGY
377
John W. Rogerson
ISAIAH AND THE JEWS: SOME REFLECTIONS ON THE CHURCH'S USE

OF THE BIBLE
390
John F.A. Sawyer
INTERESTED PARTIES: HISTORY AND IDEOLOGY AT THE END

OF THE CENTURY
402
Keith W. Whitelam
JUDGMENT AND HOPE IN ISAIAH 1.21 -26
423
H.G.M. Williamson
LOVE AND HATRED IN A MULTIRACIAL SOCIETY: THE DINAH AND

SHECHEM STORY IN GENESIS 34 IN THE CONTEXT OF GENESIS 28-35 435
Ellen J. van Wolde
PSALM 87: A CASE FOR IDEOLOGICAL CRITICISM?
450
Erich Zenger
Bibliography of David J. A. Clines
Index of References
Index of Authors
461
477
492
PREFACE
We confess we were not the only ones who thought of calling this volume
Why Is There a David Clines and What Does It Do to You If You Read
Him? For David Clines has written so much of importance in so many
areas of our disciplinephilology, commentary, exegesis, literary analysis,
ideological criticism, methodological and theoretical studiesthat few of
us will not have been influenced, inspired, challenged, nettled, perhaps convinced or possibly persuaded to think differently about a topic as a result of
his work. The title we did decide upon in the end, Reading from Right to
Left, was inspired by a phrase coined by David for the variety of reading
strategies available to the modern reader of the Bible. For David, reading
from left to right meant reading the biblical text in English and, more
important, in our own cultural context, whereas reading from right to left
referred to reading the text in Hebrew and according to the conventions of
its time.1 Since it was decided early on that the present volume would be a
collection of essays on the Hebrew Bible only, we felt that 'reading from
right to left' would be a good way of signalling this. (There was, however,
no requirement that the contributors approach the text in terms of the conventions of its time!) Multiple reading strategies are represented here,
reflecting the wide range of David Clines's scholarly interests.
One cannot fail to be impressed by the prodigious range of David's
competence across the field of biblical studies and by his breathtaking productivity. The main areas of his scholarly writing, as he has defined them,
are method, literature, history, theology, language, Psalms and the book of
Job.2 There is too much for us to survey here, and, fortunately for us, David
himself has provided an overview in the form of reflections on his work,
1. See, for example, 'Reading Esther from Left to Right' (1990; reprinted in On
the Way to the Postmodern [1998]); 'The Ten Commandments, Reading from Left to
Right', Interested Parties (1995). For full bibliographical details for all the studies
referred to in this Preface, see the bibliography of David Clines's work at the end of
the present volume.
2. See On the Way to the Postmodern.
both as part of the 'intellectual biography' of the Department of Biblical

Studies at Sheffield in Auguries* and in the Introduction to On the Way to
the Postmodern, where he describes his oeuvre in terms of an intellectual
journey. 'On the way', we think, is a fitting description, not just because it
perceives a pattern and direction in the life's work but also because it points
to an aspect of David's scholarly publications that is so distinctive: not content to repeat himself by revisiting the same questions or remaining with a
single book or topic, he is always exploring new ideas and testing new
approaches. Reading Clines is never dull or predictable; there is always an
encounter with new ideas and innovative ways of looking at things.
Though we make no attempt to present a comprehensive overview, we
cannot let the opportunity pass to single out an illustrative sample of
David's outstanding contributions to the field. If we mention first the traditional disciplines of philology and textual criticism, this is because they
stem from David's background in conservative Christian circles in Australia
(something he has never sought to hide or disown), circles in which biblical
languages are still highly valued. His degree in Greek and Latin from Sydney University, and another in Oriental Studies (Hebrew, Aramaic and
Syriac) from Cambridge University, prepared him not only for an academic
career but also for a lifelong interest in classical Hebrew. It may come as a
surprise to some readers to peruse the full bibliography of David's works
in this volume and find regular references to linguistic and textual studies
in such bastions of critical respectability as Vetus Testamentum, Biblica,
Tyndale Bulletin and the Journal ofNorthwest Semitic Languages. Even in
such fields, however, scholarship does not stand still, and with his masterminding of the massive undertaking of The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew
(1993-) we see how he has continued to give thought to the most effective
approach to discerning the meaning of words in an ancient language.
Entirely in line with much modern thinking, primacy of place is devoted to
syntagmatics. This raised howls of protest from some more traditional
quarters, and it is characteristic of David that, in responding to this by the
provision of bibliographies on each lexeme or root, he has gone much further than his critics ever went in assisting those of a more historical or
comparative disposition.
Textual and what used to be known as literary (that is, source) criticism
were taken forward in an innovative manner by his monograph The Esther
Scroll: The Story of the Story (1984), as may be seen from the fact that it
3.
1998; see especially pp. 20, 26-27, 33-35, 42-43, 56-62.
Preface
xi
has inspired a generation of studies on the textual history of the book. This
was achieved by setting both disciplines in a new context, namely, narrative coherence, an area where he was also working at the time, as will
shortly be mentioned. The approach turns the conventional order of procedure on its head; these days, when synchronic and diachronic analyses
have learned to inform each other to a great extent, it is easily forgotten
how radical it appeared when David was among the first to introduce narrative analysis into fields other than the exclusively literary.
Linguistic and textual competence are, of course, given full rein in
David's commentary writing, but such work demands a much wider range
of skills as well. This has sometimes led him into recondite areas where
technical competence of a high order is to be found, nowhere more so than
in his outstanding article 'In Search of the Indian Job' (1983), in our
opinion one of the finest pieces of detective work in the field of the history
of scholarship ever penned. Characteristically, his understanding of commentary has not stood still either. It takes little source-critical skill to discern which parts of his Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther (1984) were added to a
much earlier draft that had been turned down by an unenlightened publisher (who had commissioned it), but it is, of course, in his monumental
and ongoing commentary on Job that we find the full flowering of his mastery of the multi-skilled work which is commentary. The chorus of admiration that greeted the first volume in 1990 appears to have been unanimous,
and we eagerly anticipate the conclusion of the work in the near future.
Another area in which David's contributions are considerable includes a
range of literary-, gender- and ideological-critical approaches we might
classify as postmodern, or, to use his phrase, 'on the way to the postmodern', which he characteristically describes as a 'quizzical re-evaluation of
the values of the modern'.4 David's impressive literary skills are evident in
such works as his early /, He, We and They: A Literary Approach to Isaiah
53 (1976) and The Theme of the Pentateuch (1978), an innovative study
that has become a classic. David's literary interests blossomed naturally
into inquisitiveness about newer approaches that focused more specifically
on textualityhe was a pioneer in applying deconstruction to biblical
textsand on the interests, or ideologies, not only of the biblical writers
but also of their readers. Thus he avidly pursued reader-response, or, 'readerly questions', as the title of his 1990 book What Does Eve Do to Help?
and Other Readerly Questions to the Old Testament reveals, as well as, in
4.
On the Way to the Postmodern, xvi.
xii
his book Interested Parties (1995), questions about the motivations of

biblical writers and readersquestions captured in such quintessentially
Clinesian titles as 'Why Is There a Book of Job, and What Does It Do to
You If You Read It?',5 'Why Is There a Song of Songs, and What Does It
Do to You If You Read It?'6 Prominent among the readers whose motives
or interests he calls into question are biblical commentators themselves, an
inquiry he was perhaps the first to call 'metacommentary'.7 In all these
pursuits, what characterizes David's work is his keen interest in the multiple meanings of texts and in multiple strategies for reading them. And
here, too, we find David engaging in one of his passions, looking beyond
the discipline to broader intellectual currents, and asking about their relevance for biblical studies. If that is a question about the influence of the
modern world on the Bible and biblical criticism, its mirror image, a question about the influence of the Bible on the modern world, is equally in the
forefront of his attention. For some years he taught a course on the Bible
in the Modem World, which proved to create a good deal of excitement
among Sheffield students. His reflections on this topic became the Didsbury
Lectures in 1993, subsequently published as The Bible and the Modern
World(\991}.
The biblical text is always at the centre of David's inquiries, and he
professes to being not much of a theoretician; yet the methods we adopt in
biblical study are for him paramount subjects for enquiry; and he has
developed an enviable gift for expounding theoretical ideas and their
consequences in an accessible style. Reviewers typically comment about
the engaging style of David's writing, his wit and the clarity of his presentation, as well as his scholarship and insight.
David has never been the sort of scholar to pursue research in an ivory
tower. In addition to lecturing around the globe, throughout his career
he has been an indefatigable contributor to the activities of the Society for
Old Testament Study, the International Organization for the Study of the
Old Testament and the Society of Biblical Literature. Over the past thirty
or so years, hardly a meeting of these societies has passed without at least
one paper with a provocative title by David Clines, always delivered with
humour and panache. His efforts on behalf of the Society for Old Testament
5. First published in W.A.M. Beuken (ed.), The Book of Job (1994); a revised
version appears in Interested Parties.
6. First published in Jian Dao (1994); a revised version appears in Interested
Parties.
7. 'Metacommentating Amos' (1993); reprinted in Interested Parties.
Preface
xiii
Study, as a member of various committees, as Secretary in 1978-82 and as

President in 1996, have been much appreciated in Britain, while his successful proposal to secure the future of the Society's annual Booklist by
including it as a fifth issue ofJSOT has benefited many scholars internationally. In the SBL, he has served on committees, chaired program units
and organized sessions, and he regularly presents papers at both the national
and international meetings of the Society. It is therefore fitting that this volume is being presented to him at the SBL Annual Meeting, which conveniently takes place each year on his birthday in November.
Closer to home, David has played a major role in shaping the identity of
the Department of Biblical Studies at Sheffield University. The design of
Sheffield's distinctive undergraduate curriculum, with its focus on the
Bible in the Modern World, owes much to his vision. Little could he have
known, when he came to Sheffield in 1964, that he would spend his whole
academic career in Sheffield nor that, through his dedication, foresight and
scholarship and that of his colleagues, Sheffield would attain an international reputation, attract hundreds of graduate students (of whom he himself has supervised more than thirty), and even, for good or ill, come to
be known in some quarters of the field as the 'Sheffield school'. However
one views this label, the name of David Clines will always be associated
with it.
No account of David's scholarly career would be complete without mention of his valuable and long-lasting contributions to biblical studies as
editor and publisher. The name of JSOT Press, later to become Sheffield
Academic Press and recently acquired by Continuum, is familiar to everyone in the field. David recounts in Auguries how the Press had its beginnings in 1976 after a meeting of SOTS, when, in the train back to Sheffield,
he, Philip Davies and David Gunn decided to launch a Journal for the
Study of the Old Testament. The rest, as he says, is history. Initially the
Press provided a much needed forum for the exploration of new methods,
especially literary and synchronic, two areas of inquiry dear to David's
heart and to which he has, throughout his scholarly career, made important
contributions. Over the years the Press has promoted the work of numerous
authors, especially younger scholars, and has been a reliable venue for the
publication of monographs, collected volumes and Festschriften. From
1976 to 2000 David was editor, with Gunn and Davies (and later with
Davies) of the Journal for the Study of the Old Testament; he remains coeditor of the JSOT Supplement series, the 'green flood' in which well over
300 monographs on the Old Testament/Hebrew Bible have been published.
xiv
David has not only been both a strong supporter of the guild of biblical
scholars, he has also provided an important critical voice, drawing attention to what we are and are not (and, in his view, should be) doing in the
discipline of biblical studies (see, e.g., his articles on what has and has not
happened at SBL international meetings and at congresses of the IOSOT).8
In 2001, the University of Amsterdam conferred upon him the degree of
Doctor of Philosophy, honoris causa, citing his unique contributions to biblical criticism and cultural analysis, his inspiring teaching and innovative
research, and his role in the leadership of a scholarly publishing house.
Many of the contributors to this volume included in their essays comments about the encouragement they had received from David in their
scholarly work, testimony to David's friendship and generosity, and warm
good wishes; in the interests of space we have edited and abridged these
sentiments. We trust that the volume as a whole will convey the esteem
and affection in which David is held by so many of his colleagues, longtime conversation partners and friends. Congratulations, David, on this
your sixty-fifth birthday. It is a pleasure for us to honour you with this
volume.
J. Cheryl Exum
H.G.M. Williamson
8. 'From Salamanca to Cracow: What Has (and Has Not) Happened at SBL International Meetings' and 'From Copenhagen to Oslo: What Has (and Has Not) Happened at Congresses of the IOSOT', both in On the Way to the Postmodern.
ABBREVIATIONS
AAH
AB
ABD
ael
AfO
AHw
AnBib
ANET
AO
AOAT
ASV
ATD
ATDan
ATSAT
AV
AW
BARev
BBB
BOB
BETL
BEvT
BHS
Bib
Biblnt
BibOr
BiOr
BIFAO
Acta antiqua Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae

Anchor Bible
David Noel Freedman (ed.), The Anchor Bible Dictionary
(New York: Doubleday, 1992)
AEL M. Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature (3 vols.; Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1973-80)
Archivfur Orientforschung
Wolfram von Soden, Akkadisches Handworterbuch
(Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1959-81)
Analecta biblica
James B. Pritchard (ed.), Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating
to the Old Testament (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
1950)
Archivfur Orientforschung
Altes Orient und Altes Testament
American Standard Version
Das Alte Testament Deutsch
Acta Theologica Danica
Arbeiten zu Text and Sprache des Alten Testaments
Authorized Version
H. Brunner, Altdgyptische Weisheit(Zurich: Artemis Verlag,
1988)
Biblical Archaeology Review
Bonner biblische Beitrage
Francis Brown, S.R. Driver and Charles A. Briggs,
A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1907)
Bibliotheca ephemeridum theologicarum lovaniensium
Beitrage zur evangelischen Theologie
Biblia hebraica stuttgartensia
Biblica
Biblical Interpretation: A Journal of Contemporary
Approaches
Biblica et orientalia
Bibliotheca Orientalis
Bulletin de I'lnstitutfrancais d'archeologie orientate
XVI
BJS
BKAT
BN
BWANT
BWL
BZ
BZAW
CBQ
CEV
CRINT
CSCO
DBSup
DCH
DJD
EDSS
Erls
EvQ
EvT
ExpTim
FAT
FzB
FOTL
FRLANT
GCT
GKC
HALAT
HAT
HBS
HeyJ
HSM
HTR
HUCA
ICC
IDBSup
JAAR
JAOS
JBL
JEA
JNES

Brown Judaic Studies
Biblischer Kommentar: Altes Testament
Biblische Notizen
Beitrge zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und Neuen Testament
W.G. Lambert, Babylonian Wisdom Literature (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1960)
Biblische Zeitschrift
Beihefte zur ZAW
Catholic Biblical Quarterly
Contemporary English Versions
Compendia rerum iudaicarum ad Novum Testamentum
Corpus scriptorum christianorum orientalium
Dictionnaire de la Bible, Supplement
D.J.A. Clines (ed.), The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew
(Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1991-)
Discoveries in the Judaean Desert
Encyclopaedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls
Eretz Israel
Evangelical Quarterly
Evangelische Theologie
Expository Times
Forschungen zum Alten Testament
Forschung zur Bibel
The Forms of the Old Testament Literature
Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen
Testaments
Gender, Culture, Theory
Gesenius' Hebrew Grammar (ed. E. Kautzsch, revised and
trans. A.E. Cowley; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1910)
Ludwig Koehler et al. (eds.), Hebrisches und aramisches
Lexikon zum Alten Testament (5 vols.; Leiden: E.J. Brill,
1967-1995)
Handbuch zum Alten Testament
Herders biblische Studien
Heythrop Journal
Harvard Semitic Monographs
Harvard Theological Review
Hebrew Union College Annual
International Critical Commentary
IDB, Supplementary Volume
Journal of the American Academy of Religion
Journal of the American Oriental Society
Journal of Biblical Literature
Journal of Egyptian Archaeology
Journal of Near Eastern Studies
Abbreviations
JNSL
JPSV
JSHRZ
JSJ
JSNT
JSOT
JSOTSup
JSS
KAI
KAT
KHAT
KJV
KTU
LCL
NCB
NIDOTTE
NIV
NJB
NJPSV
NRSV
NTOA
OBO
OBT
OIP
OTE
OTG
OIL
OTS
RB
REB
RevQ
RGG
RSV
SBLDS
SBLMS
SBLRBS
SBLSP
SBLTT
SEA
xvii
Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages

Jewish Publication Society Version
Judische Schriften aus hellenistisch-romischer Zeit
Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic
and Roman Period
Journal for the Study of the New Testament
Journal for the Study of the Old Testament, Supplement Series
Journal of Semitic Studies
H. Dormer and W. Riillig, Kanaanaische und aramaische
Inschriften (3 vols.; Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1962-64)
Kommentar zum Alten Testament
Kurzer Hand-Kommentar zum Alten Testament
King James Version
M. Dietrich, O. Loretz and J. Sanmartin, Die
Keilalphabetischen Texte aus Ugarit (AOAT, 24; Kevelaer:
Butzon & Bercker, 1976)
Loeb Classical Library
New Century Bible
Willem A. VanGemeren (ed.), New International Dictionary
of Old Testament Theology and Exegesis (5 vols.; Grand
Rapids: Zondervan, 1997)
New International Version
New Jerusalem Bible
New Jewish Publication Society Version
New Revised Standard Version
Novum Testamenrum et orbis antiquus
Orbis biblicus et orientalis
Overtures to Biblical Theology
Oriental Institution Publications
Old Testament Essays
Old Testament Guides
Old Testament Library
Oudtestamentische Studien
Revue biblique
Revised English Bible
Revue de Qumran
Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart
Revised Standard Version
SBL Dissertation Series
SBL Monograph Series
SBL Resources for Biblical Study
SBL Seminar Papers
SBL Texts and Translations
Svensk exegetisk arsbok
xviii
SFSHJ
SHCANE
SJOT
SNTSMS
StudOr
Stv
TDOT
THAT
ThWAT

South Florida Studies in the History of Judaism
Studies in the History and Culture of the Ancient Near East
Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament
Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series
Studia orientalia
Statenvertaling
G.J. Botterweck and H. Ringgren (eds.), Theological
Dictionary of the Old Testament
Ernst Jenni and Claus Westermann (eds.), Theologisches
Handworterbuch zum Alien Testament (Munich: Chr. Kaiser,
1971-76)
G.J. Botterweck and H. Ringgren (eds.), Theologisches
Worterbuch zum Alten Testament (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer,
1970-)
TOB
TRE
TynBul
UF
VT
VTSup
WBC
WMANT
WO
ZA
ZAW
ZDMGSup
Traduction cecumenique de la Bible

Theologische Realenzyklopddie
Tyndale Bulletin
Ugarit-Forschungen
Vetus Testamentum
Vetus Testamentum, Supplements
Word Biblical Commentary
Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen
Testament
Die Welt des Orients
Zeitschrift fur Assyriologie
Zeitschriftfur die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft
Zeitschrift der deutschen morgenldndischen Gesellschaft,
Supplements
LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS
A. Graeme Auld, Professor of Hebrew Bible, University of Edinburgh
James Barr, Regius Professor of Hebrew Emeritus, University of Oxford
Hans M. Barstad, Professor of Biblical Studies, University of Oslo
John Barton, Oriel and Laing Professor of the Interpretation of Holy Scripture, University of Oxford
Willem A.M. Beuken, Emeritus Professor of Old Testament, Catholic
University of Leuven
Joseph Blenkinsopp, John A. O'Brien Professor Emeritus, Department of
Theology, University of Notre Dame
Walter Brueggemann, William Marcellus McPheeters Professor Emeritus
of Biblical Studies, Columbia Theological Seminary
Brevard S. Childs, Sterling Professor of Divinity Emeritus, Yale University
Richard J. Coggins, formerly Senior Lecturer in Old Testament Studies,
King's College London
Philip R. Davies, Professor of Biblical Studies, University of Sheffield
J.A. Emerton, Emeritus Regius Professor of Hebrew, University of Cambridge
Tamara Cohn Eskenazi, Professor of Bible, Hebrew Union CollegeJewish Institute of Religion
J. Cheryl Exum, Professor of Biblical Studies, University of Sheffield
XX
Michael V. Fox, Halls-Bascom Professor of Hebrew, University of Wisconsin

John Goldingay, David Allan Hubbard Professor of Old Testament, Fuller
Theological Seminary
Robert P. Gordon, Regius Professor of Hebrew, University of Cambridge
Norman K. Gottwald, Professor of Biblical Studies Emeritus, New York
Theological Seminary
Lester L. Grabbe, Professor of Hebrew Bible and Early Judaism,
University of Hull
David M. Gunn, A.A. Bradford Chair of Religion, Texas Christian
University
Walter J. Houston, Chaplain Fellow in Theology, Mansfield College,
Oxford
Sara Japhet, Yehezkel Kaufmann Professor of Bible, The Hebrew
University of Jerusalem
Michael A. Knibb, Samuel Davidson Professor Emeritus of Old Testament
Studies, King's College London
Joze Krasovec, Professor of Old Testament Studies, University of Ljubljana
Francis Landy, Professor of Religious Studies, University of Alberta
Bernhard Lang, Professor of Old Testament and Religious Studies, University of Paderborn and University of St Andrews
Burke O. Long, Kenan Professor of Religion Emeritus, Bowdoin College
Patrick D. Miller, Professor of Old Testament Theology, Princeton Theological Seminary
Johannes C. de Moor, Professor of Semitic Languages Emeritus, Theological University Kampen
List of Contributors
xxi
Carol A. Newsom, Professor of Old Testament/Hebrew Bible, Emory University

Rolf Rendtorff, Professor Emeritus of Old Testament Theology, University
of Heidelberg
Alexander Rofe, Y. Becker Professor of Bible Emeritus, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem
John W. Rogerson, Professor Emeritus of Biblical Studies, University of
Sheffield
John F.A. Sawyer, Visiting Professor in the Department of Linguistics,
University of Florence
Keith W. Whitelam, Professor of Biblical Studies, University of Sheffield
H.G.M. Williamson, Regius Professor of Hebrew, University of Oxford
Ellen J. van Wolde, Professor of Old Testament Exegesis and Hebrew,
University of Tilburg
Erich Zenger, Professor of Old Testament Exegesis, University of Munster
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WHAT WAS A BIBLICAL PROPHET? WHY DOES IT MATTER?

A. Graeme Auld
In this tribute to David Clines, I want to revisit an Alice-world. This is first
and foremost to celebrate the several wonderlands of fresh perspectives
which his own scholarship has offered readers of the Bible. However, I
also wish to acknowledge his role in helping launch an enterprise that has
had me in thrall for twenty years. The then Home Secretary of the Society
for Old Testament Study wanted to experiment with the format of Society
meetings (still unchanged after twenty years); and I volunteered to extend
a study recently completed (Auld 1984) and prepare a related paper on
prophetic terminology, somewhat longer than the norm, to which a whole
morning would be devoted, discussion led by two pre-selected respondents.
'Prophets through the Looking Glass' was the paper (1983a); Robert Carroll (1983) and Hugh Williamson (1983) were the respondents; and David
Clines's responsibility was increased when the 'Sheffield journal' published the texts with a response from myself (Auld 1983b). To help stimulate discussion, he had asked me to 'trail my coat'. It sometimes seems as
if I have been following that coat's trail ever since.
What Was a Prophet?
The main trail started in the corridor which could only be glimpsed in the
looking glass leading out from the room (Auld 1983a: 14-16). The suggestion offered there that Samuel-Kings and Chronicles were alternative
appropriations of a common source-narrative was developed in Kings -without Privilege (Auld 1994). In time, and again under challenge from David
Clines, that common source acquired a name, the Book of Two Houses
(BTH). Its theme was the conjoint story of the houses of Yahweh and
David in Jerusalema story with the end of a royal line (Saul's) and the
capture of Jerusalem (by David) at its beginning, and with the Babylonian
capture of Jerusalem and the fate of David's distant descendant at its end.
The trail led in a direction opposite to the broad consensus about the socalled Deuteronomistic History. There were two linked reasons for this.
(1) The narrative in the books from Joshua to Kings was developed from
the Book of Two Houses backwards, and not from Moses forwards: the
core of the material concerned the period of David's dynasty. That story of
kingship and prophecy was first extended into the books called 'Samuel
and Kings' (or, even better, 'Kingdoms', their Greek title), with kingship
now made secondary to prophecy. And only later were the books of Joshua
and then Judges added by authors who were penning anticipations to the
royal story already told and available. (2) The relationship between Deuteronomy and the following history was probably more complex than the term
'Deuteronomistic History' suggests: on the one side, the manifest links
between BTH and Deuteronomy, and also 'Kingdoms' and Deuteronomy,
were better explained as Deuteronomy learning from the story of kingship
and prophecy than as that story being told in the light of Deuteronomy; on
the other, Joshua does seem both to draw on themes from the royal story
and at the same time to continue where Deuteronomy leaves off.
The quest for the prophets through the looking glass never went cold,
despite earlier concentration on how the narrative books developed. One
paper (Auld 2000a) noted that in the relatively small number of prophetic
stories found in BTH, the stories common to Samuel-Kings and Chronicles,
the prophets are presented as institutional prophets. Nathan, Micaiah and
Huldah (and possibly Isaiah too) are consulted by David, Jehoshaphat,
Josiahand Hezekiah; and Gad is actually termed 'David's seer'. Some of
these advisers in fact give their own opinion first, and only subsequently
transmit a divine oracle. By contrast, the non-synoptic prophetic stories in
most of Samuel-Kings and Chronicles portray prophets or seers as bursting
onto the scene unbidden by the king but with a message from Yahweh. A
second paper reviewed the opening chapters of 1 Samuel, and argued that
the figure of Samuel was a late composite of once separate royal and prophetic traditions (Auld 2001). And the stories of Elijah and Elisha in Kings
reinforce the expectations aroused by this portrait at the beginning of 'Kingdoms'. They reverse the expected relationship of king and prophet (Auld
2002): Elijah gives instructions to Ahab without invoking divine authority,
and chooses when he may be seen by the king; the succession of Elisha to
Elijah is quasi-royal; and the description of Elisha as 'the prophet who is
in Israel' (2 Kgs 6.12) must represent a challenge to 'the king who is in
Samaria'(1 Kgs 21.18).
AULD What Was a Biblical Prophet?
Quite the most sustained critical engagement known to me with issues

raised in 'Prophets through the Looking Glass' and in the closely related
(and even more coat-trailing) New College Opening Lecture of 1984 (Auld
1988) was provided by Hans Barstad (1993). Like Helmer Ringgren's polemic at a congress in Jerusalem (1988), he began by commenting on Otto
Kaiser's work on Isaiah 1-39 and suspecting its reductionist implications;
and, like Ringgren, he complained that several scholars were ignoring the
well-documented evidence of prophecy among Israel's neighbours in the
ancient Near East. Barstad found both Auld and Carroll 'rather vague and
reticent over what terms like "prophet" and "prophecy" can or should
mean' (1993: 45); and their 'weighty contributions...lacking any serious
attempt to relate the contents of the prophetical books to the phenomenon
of biblical and ancient Near Eastern prophecy in general' (46). I can only
speak for myself, and observe that an article often does appear one-sided
because it has space mainly to develop a fresh point and little to underscore its agreement otherwise with the consensus. My point was never that
there was no continuity between ancient prophecy (ancient Near Eastern,
including 'Israelite') and biblical prophecybut simply that much the larger part of the evidence within the Bible (in terms of technical terminology
at least) was of highly edited biblical prophecy, not of anterior historical
phenomena. It cannot be denied that some ancient prophets claimed DN1
rP!T of what they had to say; yet, within the pages of the Bible, that phrase
is overwhelmingly the contribution of their editors. Barstad is right (1993:
55-56) to deplore the relative lack of interest among biblical scholars in
the oracles against other nations, that part of the content of biblical prophecy that is most closely related to prophecy generally in the ancient Near
East. And yet this is neither the major nor the distinctive element in the
material.
What Does 'Biblical' Mean?
It is not only 'prophet' and 'prophecy' that remain remarkably difficult
terms, despite their familiarity. 'Biblical' too is a far-from-transparent modifier. 'Biblical Studies' is a concept more like a marquee than an umbrella,
covering anything and everything 'to do with' the Bible: background, contents, comparators, influence. 'Biblical standards', at least in the mouth of a
more fundamentalist Protestant Christian, are contemporary standards held
to be convergent with norms and teachings within the Bible. By contrast,
'biblical history' or 'biblical archaeology' study that part of the ancient
past about which the Bible writes and out of which it grew. In asking about
the 'biblical prophet', I am operating closer to the third of these senses:
but only closer to and not within. 'Classical' may work as a replacement
for 'Biblical' in the Sheffield Hebrew Dictionary (Clines 1993:14-15), but
not for my purposes. In fact, in that 'biblical prophecy' is concerned only
with prophecy within the Bible, the term avoids the critique that is properly levelled against 'biblical history' and 'biblical archaeology': that they
tend to silence or marginalize other voices in the shared record of their
period. The editing of the prophetic corpus was of course a historical phenomenon; however, the more it is recognized as involving a radical representation of the historical prophets, the less it has to do with these prophets in their times. But even that is only the beginning of the problem.
It is more important when discussing 'prophecy' than in dealing with
most other 'biblical' topics to be clear which 'Bible' we are talking about.
It is commonplace to cite the familiar canonical issue. Christianity and
Judaism hold the books of Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel and the Twelve in common as 'Prophets'. Christians would add Daniel to these, and also Lamentations alongside Jeremiah. In contrast, balancing the four books of the
Latter Prophets already listed, Jews add the four Former Prophets: Joshua,
Judges, Samuel and Kings. Radically.different decisions about which
among the shared biblical books are 'prophetic' go hand in hand with quite
as divergent perceptions of what constitutes 'prophecy'. Equally, within
the more extended Christian scripture, it may be appropriate to distinguish
between Old Testament and New Testament prophecy. In some, at least,
early Christian communities there were those who exercised 'prophetic'
gifts, just as others healed, discerned spirits, or worked miracleswhile
all of these were features of prophets in the Hebrew Bible/Old Testament.
It is possible, however, to push through or behind this canonical divide.
Earlier discussion of the 'canonical' significance of the manuscript fragments found near Qumran seemed more concerned to align the Dead Sea
'library' with either the Masoretic Bible or the longer Old Testament collections of the early churches. Fragments of all books in the Hebrew Bible
(but Esther) were found thereyet there was knowledge also of elements
of a fuller 'canon'. That debate resembled earlier Catholic/Protestant sniping within Christianity about the proper extent of the 'Old Testament'.
Both sides argued over which 'biblical' books were held authoritative by
the authors of the books that became 'New Testament'. Happily the discussion has moved forwards; and I mention just two more recent contributions which appear to have the potential to nudge it further.
Timothy Lim (2001) has recently disputed the view that 4QMMT refers
to the tripartite division of the Hebrew Bible. Line 10 of the manuscript, as
restored by Qimron and Strugnell, refers to 'the book of Moses, the books
of the prophets, and David' as fit sources for enlightenment. And this threefold expression has, not surprisingly, been compared with the reference in
Lk. 24.44 to 'the law of Moses, and the prophets, and the psalms', which
has also been taken to refer to the familiar 'Law, Prophets, and Writings'.
However, Lim notes that Judges, Samuel and Kings are never mentioned
as titles in sectarian documents, from which he deduces that no collection
of 'prophets' from Joshua to Malachi was known. And he argues that
'David' is more likely to be an ellipse for '(the deeds of) David' than for
'(the psalms of) David'. 'David' in 4QMMT could therefore refer to part
or all of the Former Prophets. I find the first part of his case completely persuasive; however, while the elliptical 'David' could refer to an account of
his deeds, his songs or psalms are much more substantially represented
among the Qumran manuscripts than histories of his deeds.
Discussing what may have constituted 'Bible' at Qumran, Julio Trebolle
Barrera (2000) proposes three tests, and finds the results of each converging
with the others: (1) Which (biblical) books are found in many copies, and
which in a few? (2) Which books are more often cited as authoritative in
the non-biblical, 'sectarian' writings found at Qumran, and which less?
(3) Of which books do the available copies exhibit a standard text, and for
which books do we have clear evidence of a text which has not been standardized?
It is the books of Moses, together with Isaiah, the Twelve, Psalms and
(possibly) Job, that are available in more copies, with little textual divergence despite the larger number of copies, and that are most often quoted.
While copies of almost all the other books within the familiar collection of
the Hebrew Bible were found at Qumran, we should deduce from Trebolle's
shorter list that the others were not yet 'biblical', did not yet share the same
authority, had not yet merited the selection of a standard form of their text.
The answer from Qumran to the question, 'What was normative prophecy
then and there?', might have been: the sort of material we find in the two
books of Isaiah and the Twelve. Each is set by its title verse 'in the days of
Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz and Hezekiah, kings of Judah' (Isa. 1.1 and Hos.
1.1), yet each obviously contains material from a wide range of centuries
after the eighth century BCE. The striking difference between them is that
the book of the Twelve is explicit about (some of) the variety within it of
setting and contribution, while the other book recognizes only the epony-
mous Isaiah of Jerusalem. Some New Testament witnesses might add David
(in the Psalms) to our list of prophetic books (and that collection, like Isaiah
and the Twelve, has developed over a very long period).
This evidence from Qumran is all the more important because of its resonance with observations from elsewhere. The books most cited in the sectarian documents are also the books most often appealed to in the New
Testament writings (Trebolle 2000:93-94). And the books within the 'biblical' collection by the Dead Sea which display textual pluriformity are
largely those where certain Septuagint texts, pre-eminently Codex Vaticanus (LXXB), attest a Hebrew Vorlage very different from the Masoretic
Text (MT). For the purposes of this paper it is particularly noteworthy that
these books include, in addition to Joshua and Judges, precisely Samuel,
Kings, Jeremiah and Ezekiel: the books in which the language of prophecy
(especially the usage of nb') is concentrated, the books in which the role
of the prophet is a feature. Daniel, among the prophets in the Christian Old
Testament but not in the Jewish Bible, is another book that we have in
very different versions. Was the text of these books more flexiblewere
they still being added to and rewrittenbecause they did not (yet) share
the authority of Torah, Isaiah, the Twelve and Psalms? Or were they not
authoritative, because there was no fixed and recognized text?
Texts that diverge from the (proto-)masoretic 'standard' are called by
some scholars 'non-standard' or 'parabiblical'. However, Trebolle wisely
counsels against the use of these terms for books such as Samuel, Kings,
Jeremiah and Ezekiel. 'Non-standard' implies that there was a standard, and
'parabiblical text' that there was a 'biblical text'. Yet the evidence of Qumran, the New Testament and the ancient versions relating to Joshua-Kings
and Jeremiah-Ezekiel is against there having been any standard in that
period by which to measure what was non-standard. Paradoxically, the two
earliest standard 'biblical' prophetic books are much more diverse, much
more tolerant of different answers to our question, 'What was a biblical
prophet?', than the then non-standard Samuel, Kings, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, which were only later recognized as 'biblical' books. These are not
completely consistent in themselves, and they do not agree with each other;
and yet they do have more in common with each other than with most of
Isaiah or the Twelve.
At the beginning of this section I noted that the question about biblical
prophecy would receive a different answer from the Jewish than from the
Christian canon of scripture. The answer to the question 'What was a biblical prophet?' is different again when we push back behind these, and
answer on the basis of the much smaller collection of books that the Dead
Sea documents and the writings of the New Testament appear to have
received as authoritative. Many of the statements made about the completion or canonization of the Hebrew Bible by participants in the 1998
and 1999 sessions of the European Seminar in Historical Methodology
would be usefully reconsidered in the light of Trebolle's discussion.
Robert Carroll did note in his contribution (2001:105) the relevance of my
own work to the debate. What does it matter for literary and religious history? In the remainder of this paper, I sketch some illustrative questions.
How Long Did the Development of the Four Books of the Latter
Prophets Take?
It has been common to suppose that the books of Jeremiah and Ezekiel, as
rather more consistent books, with their focus each on the contribution of a
single prophet, could have been the product of a relatively short period of
developmentrelative at least to Isaiah and the Twelve. There has been a
conservative tendency to hold that the distinctively different Hebrew and
Greek texts of Jeremiah might have co-existed as alternative accounts of
Jeremiah from a period not so long after his death. By contrast, the book
of the Twelve was manifestly collected over a much longer period. And
this was mostly readily accepted also in the case of Isaiah, even if Jacques
Vermeylen's description (1977-78) of the book of Isaiah as the product of
as much as half a millennium of religious history was considered extreme
by some readers. But the positive and negative data presented by Trebolle
should force even the unwilling to consider that the development of the
books of Jeremiah and Ezekiel may have been quite as long as that of
Isaiah and the Twelve. The eponymous Jeremiah and Ezekiel may be
located a century later than Isaiah, Hosea, Amos and Micah, but the completion of their books had also come later. This simply underscores a
decisive difference between 'biblical' and 'historical' prophecy: all other
ancient Near Eastern prophets are encountered by us in near-contemporary
words accidentally preserved from re-edition, while we meet biblical prophets in highly edited documents reporting on a very distant past.
Dead Sea and Looking Glass
Trebolle's appraisal of the 'biblical' evidence excavated from the caves by
the Dead Sea can be readily appropriated as further evidence for 'Prophets
through the Looking Glass' and Kings without Privilege. He has, after all,
provided more objective grounds than are commonly disposed of in biblical studies for treating Samuel-Kings and Jeremiah-Ezekiel as distinct
from Isaiah and the Twelve, and as developing until a still later date. The
expansion of the Book of Two Houses into the four books of Kingdoms
shares a number of features with the addition of Jeremiah and Ezekiel
alongside Isaiah and the Twelve. Isaiah and the Twelve employ a wider
range of terms for prophetic service of Yahweh than Kings and Jeremiah
(Ezekiel is more diverse than Jeremiah, and uses nilf/pin much more than
Jeremiah or Samuel-Kings), and Kings is indebted to the older Book of
Two Houses for such diversity as it does possess. That major source manages within the six relevant short narratives to use all of 'seer' (run),
'vision' (]im), 'man of god' (QTl'TKn tTN), and 'utterance of Yahweh'
(miT DUD) once each, in addition to 'prophet' (6 times) and 'prophesy' (4
times). Such variety gives it something of the flavour of the Twelve or
Isaiah, a flavour almost overlaid by the much repeated 'prophet' of the rest
of Kings. Then the books of Jeremiah-Ezekiel share with Samuel-Kings
increased interest in the persona of major prophetic figures: Samuel, Elijah
and Elisha, alongside Jeremiah and Ezekiel. Although the book of Isaiah is
as long as Jeremiah and Ezekiel, Isaiah himself is not nearly so prominentnot even in the first half of the book.
Can Biblical Hebrew be Dated?
Many scholars have been confident that the charted history of the Hebrew
language gave them rather more objective control over dating biblical
materials. And this is certainly true of a recent piece by Zipora Talshir
(2000). Dubbing my discussion of Solomon in 1 Kings, 3 Kingdoms and
2 Chronicles 'simplistic' at the outset, she goes on to attack it in several
misrepresentations of both argument and biblical texts. To mention only
three: (1)1 was seeking to establish not an earlier, shorter version of 1 Kings
(2000:238), but a source of 1 Kings. (2) Talshir brackets 1 Kings 11 out of
the discussion (234), and is then able to claim that the Chronicler's main
omissions from Kings were from before Solomon's temple building (242)!
1 Kings 11 is one of the main pluses in Kings, and typically appears very
differently in MT and LXX. (3) I have no problems over the broad agreement in Hebrew and Greek texts over Solomon's wisdom and riches (24041)they are witnesses to the same book, a book different from Chronicles. But it remains important to account for the fact that virtually all the
divergences between the Hebrew and Greek 'editions' of that book of Kings
occur in material which neither of these 'editions' shares with Chronicles.
Her attempted coup de grace is administered in the final footnote:' Auld...

also discards, with no tenable explanation, the proof from the diachronic
nature of the language of the Old Testament, Chronicles being an obvious
witness of late Biblical Hebrew; see Avi Hurvitz...' It turns out, however,
there is very much more to say on that issue than I was even dimly aware
of when making the few remarks about Chronicles as benchmark for late
biblical Hebrew (Auld 1994:9-10) to which Talshir took exception. Rising
to her challenge, Robert Rezetko has presented a first selection of the
wide-ranging counter-evidence available to him, in a closely argued and
superbly documented article (2003). He concludes: '[T]he best starting point
for comprehending the relationship(s) between [Samuel-Kings and Chronicles] is a meticulous, comprehensive and dispassionate textual, stylistic and
literary analysis of their content and shape'.
Can the Case Really Be so One-Sided?
Without detracting from the argument so far, two pieces of apparent
counter-evidence need to be entered. The one is that Ben Sirach's (second
century BCE) praise of famous men (Ecclus 44-49) already includes
Jeremiah and Ezekiel after (and only just more briefly than) Isaiah, and
also devotes many more 'column inches' to Samuel and Elijah, Joshua and
Caleb. Lester Grabbe charts the correspondences in detail (2001:144-46).
The other is that the books of the Former Prophets have an enormous influence on the New Testament Gospels. The echoes of 1 Samuel 1-3 in the
opening chapters of Matthew and Luke are well known; and Jesus' acts of
feeding, dealing with a Phoenician woman, healing, raising of the dead and
being himself caught into heaven resonate famously with those of Elijah and
Elisha. However, the many links between the first Jesus/Joshua and the
second are often overlooked: Joshua is spoken to directly by God, like
Moses before him, and not (like a prophet) through receipt of the divine
'word'. The Jordan, and feet dipped in it, and symbols of the 'twelve-ness'
of Israel are important at the beginning of his main career. Jericho is a
feature of both stories, including accepting hospitality there from a questionable host. It is Joshua who built the ancestral altar to which the Samaritan woman directed the attention of Jesus. Only the first of these points is
close to what Ben Sirach found noteworthy about the first Jesus: that he
was successor (StaSoxos, 46.1) to Moses in matters of prophecy. Ben
Sirach describes the relationship of Elisha to Elijah the same way (48.8). It
is clear from all this, however narrowly the word 'biblical' should properly
be defined, that decisive influence was not restricted to books that were
10
cited, and of which many copies were held in a standard text. Some sorts
of narrative clearly demonstrated their vitality by their influence on others
and their openness to their own reformulation at the same time.
In this respect, the narrative books of the Former Prophets were simply
continuing in the tradition of the Book of Two Houses. It was one of the
conclusions of Kings without Privilege that BTH had supplied some of the
most important themes of the book of Deuteronomy as well as metamorphosing into the books of Kingdoms. Further influence from these narrative
books on other books of the Pentateuch simply extends this phenomenon
of influence from narratives about the monarchic period. The portrait in
Deuteronomy, and indeed Exodus, of Moses as supreme prophet is indebted
to elements of Samuel and Kings and Jeremiah. The stories about Joseph
and Judah in the latter quarter of Genesis include variations on the account
in 2 Samuel of David and his family (Auld 2000b; 2000c). And the command to be fruitful and multiply and fill a vacant land/earth had been issued
in Jeremiah (3.16; 23.3) to settlers returning to the promised land, before it
was ever laid on Adam at creation. Only relative datings are possible. However, if the stories of Israel's sons at the end of Genesis draw on the stories
of David's family, and if these in turn have been added to BTH, and if that
must be later than the collapse of Jerusalem and the houses of Yahweh and
of David with it, then the last quarter of Genesis is no earlier than the Persian period. Only internal evidence, like the greater role for Joseph in the
Pentateuch and how that might relate to Jewish/Samaritan issues on one
side or to the figure of Daniel on another, could take us further forward.
The work of the European Seminar in Historical Methodology has
already been noted. The volume mentioned above (Grabbe [ed.] 2001) was
devoted to discussion of Niels Peter Lemche's 'The Old Testamenta
Hellenistic Book?' (Lemche 1993 [2001 ]). I can only agree with the several
contributors who found it impossible to answer the question: Persian or
Hellenistic or even Graeco-Roman? On the one side, most of the materials
I have been reviewing appear to have been the product of a long period of
development. On the other, the text of even the books in the smaller Qumran 'canon' could have remained open till Hellenistic times. But it is important to state that, in this discussion, 'Hellenistic' is mainly a description of
date and not of influence. Hans Barstad's demonstration in that volume
(2001) is crucial: that the 'biblical' books, however late their completion,
were thoroughly Near Eastern rather than Greek. And he has reinforced it
still more recently (2002).
11
Bibliography
Auld, A.G.
1983a
1983b
1984
1988
1994
2000a
2000b
2000c
2001
2002
Barstad, H.
1993
2001
2002
Carroll, R.P.
1983
'Prophets through the Looking Glass: Between Writings and Moses', JSOT
27: 3-23; reprinted in Gordon 1995: 289-307, and in Davies 1996: 22-42.
'Prophets through the Looking Glass: A Response to Robert Carroll and
Hugh Williamson', JSOT21: 41-44; reprinted in Davies 1996: 57-60.
'Prophets and Prophecy in Jeremiah and Kings', ZAW96: 66-82.
'Word of God and Word of Man: Prophets and Canon', in Ascribe to the
Lord: Biblical and Other Studies in Memory of Peter C. Craigie (JSOTSup,
67; Sheffield: JSOT Press): 237-51.
Kings without Privilege (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark).
'Prophets Sharedbut Recycled', in T. Romer (ed.), The Future of the Deuteronomistic History (BETL, 147;Leuven: Leuven University Press): 19-28.
'Samuel and Genesis: Some Questions of John Van Seters' "Yahwist"', in
S.L. McKenzie and T. Romer (eds.), Rethinking the Foundations: Historiography in the Ancient World and in the Bible (BZAW, 294; Berlin: W. de
Gruyter): 23-32.
'Tamar between David, Judah and Joseph', SEA 65: 93-106.
'From King to Prophet in Samuel and Kings', in J.C. de Moor (ed.), The
Elusive Prophet: The Prophet as a Historical Person, Literary Character
and Anonymous Artist (OTS, 45; Leiden: E.J. Brill): 31 -44.
'Prophecy', in J. Barton (ed.), The Biblical World (London: Routledge): I,
88-106.
'No Prophets? Recent Developments in Biblical Prophetic Research and
Ancient Near Eastern Prophecy', JSOT57: 39-60; reprinted in Davies 1996:
106-26.
'Deuteronomists, Persians, Greeks, and the Dating of the Israelite Tradition',
in Grabbe(ed.) 2001:47-77.
'Is the Hebrew Bible a Hellenistic Book? Or: Niels Peter Lemche, Herodotus,
and the Persians', Transeuphratene 23: 129-51.
'Poets not Prophets: A Response to "Prophets through the Looking Glass"',

JSOT'27: 25-31; reprinted in Davies 1996: 43-49.
2001
'Jewgreek Greekjew: The Hebrew Bible Is All Greek to Me. Reflections on
the Problematics of Dating the Origins of the Bible in Relation to Contemporary Discussions of Biblical Historiography', in Grabbe (ed.) 2001:91-107.
Clines, D.J.A. (ed.)
1993
The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew, I. N (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic
Press).
Davies, P.R. (ed.)
1996
The Prophets: A Sheffield Reader (The Biblical Seminar, 42; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press).
Gordon, R.P. (ed.)
1995
The Place Is Too Smallfor Us: The Israelite Prophets in Recent Scholarship
12

(Sources for Biblical and Theological Study, 5; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns).
Grabbe, L.L.
2001
'Jewish Historiography and Scripture in the Hellenistic Period', in Grabbe

(ed.)2001: 129-55.
Grabbe, L.L. (ed.)
2001
Did Moses Speak Attic? Jewish Historiography and Scripture in the Hellenistic Period (European Seminar in Historical Methodology, 3; JSOTSup,
317; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press).
Lemche, N.P.
1993
'The Old Testamenta Hellenistic Book?', SJOT 7: 163-93 (a slightly
revised version appears in Grabbe [ed.] 2001: 287-318).
Lim, T.H.
2001
'The Alleged Reference to the Tripartite Division of the Hebrew Bible',
Revue de Qumran 20: 23-37.
Rezetko, R.
2003
'Dating Biblical Hebrew: Evidence from Samuel-Kings and Chronicles', in
I.M. Young (ed.), Biblical Hebrew: Typology and Chronology (Sheffield:
Sheffield Academic Press).
Ringgren, H.
1988
'Israelite Prophecy: Fact or Fiction?', in J.A. Emerton (ed.), Congress
Volume: Jerusalem 1986 (VTSup, 40; Leiden: E.J. Brill): 204-10.
Talshir, Z.
2000
'The Reign of Solomon in the Making: Pseudo-Connections between 3 Kingdoms and Chronicles', FT 50: 233-49.
Trebolle Barrera, J.
2000
'Qumran Evidence for a Biblical Standard Text and for Non-Standard and
Parabiblical Texts', in T.H. Lim et al. (eds.), The Dead Sea Scrolls in their
Historical Context (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark): 89-106.
Vermeylen, J.
1977-78 Du Prophete Isa'ie a I'apocalyptique: Isai'e, IXXXV, miroir d'un demimillenaire d'experience religieuse en Israel (Etudes Bibliques; 2 vols.; Paris:
Gabalda).
Williamson, H.G.M.
1983
'A Response to A. Graeme Auld', JSOT21:33-39; reprinted in Davies 1996:
50-56.
A PUZZLE IN DEUTERONOMY
James Ban
The passage in Deuteronomy about the treatment of fruit trees in war

(Deut. 20.19-20) reads as follows in a typical modern translation:
When in your war against a city you have to besiege it a long time in order
to capture it, you must not destroy its trees, wielding the ax against them.
You may eat of them, but you must not cut them down. Are trees of the field
human to withdraw before you under siege? Only trees which you know do
not yield food may be destroyed; you may cut them down for constructing
siege-works against the city that is waging war on you, until it has been
reduced. (The Torah, IPS 1962. One sentence is italicized because it is the
problematic one for the present study.)
The first sentence and the last seem fairly simple. The criterion is whether a
tree is fruit bearing or not. The (presumably Israelite) soldier may eat from
a fruit tree, but must not cut it down. If a tree is known not to be fruit bearing, the soldier may cut it down as timber, for use in the construction of
palisades, shelters and towers. Note the importance of its being 'known'.
The implication is that, if a tree simply has no fruit (which might, after all,
be a seasonal matter), the soldier might say, 'That's got no fruit on it, cut it
down'. No, says the law, you have to know that it is a non-fruit-bearing tree.
Here is the Hebrew of the central sentence:
Our main concern lies with the first part of this line. The second part, however, is also vague and obscure and, as it has some bearing on the understanding of the whole, we shall consider it first of all. In the first part, as
we shall see, there is a scholarly consensus which is almost universal. In
the second part there is some difference, but it is a vague difference rather
than a conflict between clearly formulated positions. On the whole, modern translations show considerable consensus. Apart from the central sentence they are very similar. In the central sentence we find:
14

NRSV: 'Are trees in the field human beings that they should come under
siege from youT
NIV:
'Do not cut them down. Are the trees of the field people, that you
should besiege themT
NIV:
offers also an alternative, very generalized, rendering: 'Do not cut
them down to use in the siege, for the fruit trees are for the benefit
of man'.
A brief note on the Hebrew words may be helpful. The noun TISID is
used both for a siege in general and for siege works such as palisades and
towers, which may be 'built' with wood if available, as in Deut. 20.20.
The verb 'come' is a common one, commonly bordering on 'come in,
enter'. The collocation of it with 'siege' is found several times of a city
coming under siege (of Jerusalem, 2 Kgs 24.10; 25.2; Jer. 52.5), but I have
not found it used of fighters retreating into the security of walls or fortifications. The adverbial phrase 'from before you' is common, especially in
Deuteronomy (13 cases or more) and is usually used in contexts such as
that of driving out previous inhabitants 'from before you'. The collocation
of these three words seems to lead to no clear picture of the kind of action
that is being talked about.
With this we can turn back to the first phrase, which appears to make the
basic distinction: a tree is one thing, a human is another. There are two
major questions: first, does the Hebrew sentence actually say this? And second, is it not remarkable that this rather poetic, rhetorical and improbable
piece of reasoning can be part of the sober usage of the legal core of Deuteronomy?
Does the Hebrew actually say this? Translations tend to leave unsaid the
fact that they depart from the traditional Hebrew text and work from an
emended text. The difference is so great as to amount to that between positive and negative. What does the Hebrew, taken as it stands, say? As one
recent commentator makes plain, 'As it stands the MT means "men are
trees of the field"' (Mayes 1979: 96). Putting it in another way, we might
say: it should mean either 'for the human being is a tree of the field' or
'for the tree of the field is a human being' (the allocation as between subject and predicate is doubtless significant, but for our present purposes
both possibilities may be left open).
Where then is the difference of text? In the first part of the central phrase,
i~nfcn j*I7 cnttH ""3, it is an old suggestion, accepted by scholars such as
Ewald, Keil and Dillmann, that the n of the second word should be taken
not as the definite article but as the interrogative particle, understood to be
ri. This solution has been widely adopted and is accepted in many commen-
BARR A Puzzle in Deuteronomy
15
taries and dictionaries (BOB, 209b; HALOT, I, 236a; otherwise DCH, I,

124, on which see below). Indeed, it is difficult to find any opinion that
differs from this consensus or even mentions the MT with any seriousness.1
Incidentally, consensus of this degree is unusual in biblical study. Textual
emendations are unpopular and are nearly always opposed by someone. In
this case, however, even those constituencies that are most suspicious of
emendation seem ready to swallow this one, for which the evidence is not
very strong. Why is this so? Doubtless because there seemed to be no other
way if sense was to be found.
The chief textual evidence adduced is the LXX version. For the central
sentence it has: \ir\ avSpcoiros TO uAov TO ev TCO aypcp EioeXSelv airb
irpoocoTTOU aou E'IS TOV xapaKa. We can translate this as something like:
'Surely the tree of the field is not a human, to come in from before you
into the stockade.' The recent version of C. Dogniez and M. Harl (1992:
242) is more elegant: L 'arbre qui est dans le champ est-ilpar hazard un
homme quipuisse aller loin de taface dans le retranchement? Certainly
this is an example of'a question expecting the answer "No" '.2 The tree in
the field is not a human, nor is a human that tree. This evidence is quoted
in most critical editions and most serious commentaries. It underlies the
modern translations.
Yet there is something ambiguous about it. Unquestionably the Greek
made the passage negative, or interrogative, which is the same thing: the
human was not a tree, nor was the tree a human. That was obvious. But on
what basis did the Greek translator make this decision? Does his rendering
adequately support the view that the Hebrew text itself had been a question? Or is it an example of the old fallacy that changes of vocalization are
superficial and can be made at will? For to make the phrase into a question,
indeed into a rhetorical question, is more or less the same as to negate it.
There are two ways in which the ancient translators may have worked
(Barr 1967,1990). It may be implied that the translator heard (for no written registration existed) the syllable as /he/ (Tiberian segol) and not as /ha/
(Tiberian qames) and that he recognized this as a proof that the phrase was
a question. This is my Method B. It depends on recourse to the vocal text,
as it was heard from competent readers.
1. One recent exception is the new Swedish Bible. Its text prints Trddenpa fallen
dr inte manniskor, but its textual notes correctly register the MT as or manniskorna (?).
See Bibeln. Gamla Testamentet (2000), I, 372, and Ovrigt, 3369.
2. For a recent note on this usage of pr) in the LXX see Muraoka 1993: 155.
16
But he could have worked by my Method A. He looked at the string of

written signs and worked out the possible syntactical/semantic indications
that they gave. He saw that they most obviously led to the positive statement either that 'the human is a tree' or 'the tree is a human'. But this
seemed impossible, not textually but factually. So it must be a question which in Hebrew does not have to have a peculiar particle to mark it. If he
worked in this way, his translation is not a textual evidence for a text other
than (the vocalized) MT; rather, it is evidence that the translator saw the
same difficulties which modern commentators and translators have seen,
and reacted in the same way.
Thus LXX can be explained without construing it as arising from a
different vowel in the written form h. The LXX, which never had anything
other than the written consonant before it, knew quite well that, although a
Hebrew h was commonly a definite article and translatable as such, there
was a quite frequent variation in which it was an interrogative and as such
made the sentence into a question and was often rendered into Greek with
Mr|, as here. Familiar examples include Gen. 4.9; 18.14,17; Isa. 10.15; Job
1.9. Hatch and Redpath's article on pf| helpfully marks the examples with
an asterisk (Hatch and Redpath 1907: II, 919-20), and this listing may not
be exhaustive.
This does not disprove the suggestions of commentators and the resultant
suggestions of modern translators. It only shows that the LXX text does not
necessarily prove them to be correct. The fact remains, as indicated above,
that to most Hebrew readers the more obvious or 'natural' reading of the
words would be either 'for the human being is a tree of the field' or 'for the
tree of the field is a human being'. The tradition of the LXX and the modern
versions deal with this by making it into a question expecting the answer
'No'.
There are one or two other points about the Hebrew interrogative that
may be added. As we saw, in ancient times the particle would be present in
writing only in the form of the consonant letter h. The only way in which
the LXX rendering would count as evidence would be if they worked by
Method B and heard a distinct and distinctive pronunciation. This could be
misleading. For one thing, grammarians have noted that this particular particle is 'often written wrongly' (HALOT, 1,236a) and some serious cases
are quoted (Lev. 10.19; Num. 16.22; Jer. 2.10; Ps. 89.48), as well as our
Deut. 20.19 if it truly is a case. This could indeed mean a scribal inaccuracy, but it could also mean that the pronunciation of this particle was not as
certain and universal as our grammars tell us. In my opinion the Masoretes
17
did not put in points in order to establish one interpretation or another, but
put them in in order to record the vocal reading tradition, already long
established. If so they placed the qames in the h because they heard it so,
but the effect was that it was a definite article and not an interrogative. This,
however, does not rule out the possibility that the sentence was a question.
And there is a still more decisive argument that probably makes otiose
all our discussion about the form of the interrogative particle: for a Hebrew
sentence to be a question, it does not require to have an interrogative particle at all! It could be understood as a question, and translated as such by
LXX or other translator, even if there never was any interrogative particle.
Certainly the interrogative particle, or particles since there are more than
one, is much more common. But questions can certainly be asked without
one. GK150a quotes H.G.Mitchell (1908:113-15andnote 1), who after
rigorous investigation concluded that there were 39 instances in the Bible,
of which 12 (or 17) are thought to be the result of textual errors. Strong
examples of questions having no interrogative particle include Gen. 27.24;
1 Sam. 11.2; 16.4; 22.7; 2 Sam. 6.17; 18.29; 1 Kgs 1.24; Hos. 4.16; Zech.
8.6; maybe Prov. 5.16.
One can also ask about rhetorical questions. Unquestionably rhetorical
questions are fairly common in the Hebrew Bible. In Deuteronomy we
find examples such as:
Deut. 4.7: For what great nation is there that has a god so near to it as the
Lord our God is to us?
Deut. 5.26: For who is there of all flesh that has heard the voice of the
living God...?
Deut. 32.30: How should one chase a thousand.. .unless their Rock had sold
them?
Rhetorical questions are therefore well evidenced. But these examples are
in the paraenetic sections of the book, or in the two poems 32-33. They
are not good parallels for the existence of a rhetorical question in the legal
section, embedded within a clear and sober law. Questions remain therefore when a rhetorical question is identified in a passage like Deut. 20.1920. It is easy enough to make the alteration, but when one looks at the
resultant sentence it seems weird.
Again, since the ""D must be causal and mean 'for' or 'because', giving a
reason why the fruit trees are not to be cut down, one asks how often S D
with this function is followed by a rhetorical question. Still more, how
often is the interrogative particle attached to a noun which is the first element in a nominal (or 'verbless') clause of which the second element is
18
another noun or noun phrase, with no intervening particle such as 81H,

commonly used in such a position? The writer began some research on
these questions but has to admit that final results were not achieved in time
for the delivery of this essay. Data are not easy to obtain or to analyse. To
study every question in the Bible seemed a large undertaking. The particle
"2 is registered in Jenni's careful statistical section as having 'c. 4470'
occurrences, while the electronic text I use gives the figure 4377. In any
case, it is a lot of work to look up every example and study it from this point
of view. Grammars and dictionaries mostly cannot do this kind of work
either.
It was somewhat easier to study the interrogative H. Jenni gives 746
cases, including 94 in Job. My electronic text was the reverse of helpful,
for, as I had predicted since the origin of such devices, the user is at the
mercy of the unknown persons who 'morphologically tagged' each word
and thus classified it as noun, feminine, plural, or verb, second person
feminine, etc. For, in the computerized text I use, while the interrogative
particle is correctly identified when it has the dominant vowel hatep pathah,
in the less common case where it has pathah it has generally been registered
as the definite article.
In this situation valuable help came from DCH. The interrogative H is
one of the few terms that it rightly does not seek to register exhaustively.
But it classifies the cases (DCH, II, 482) clearly and simply, according to
the part of speech with which the particle is collocated. Then under each
of these headings it gives examples. For our present purpose I took the
section on collocation with a noun, which alone is relevant for the question
of Deut. 20.19. The question I put to myself was: if we take NP for noun or
noun phrase, how often do we find an expression of the form: ?-NPNP,
with the meaning 'Is the one NP somehow equated with the other?' Though
such a form is doubtless possible in Hebrew, to what extent is it actually
found? The consideration of the probability of this sentence type in Hebrew
is quite as relevant as the textual possibility of a vowel different from that
of MT. For present purposes, it does not matter whether one NP or the other
is considered as 'subject'. The question is how much this pattern is found
at all. In the examples cited in DCH, which seemed to be well representative, I did not find any.3 Looking for other examples, I saw some similarity
in Job 4.6: "pTT Dm -jmpn "fn^DD -JHKT K^n. NRSV translates: 'Is not
3. F.I. Andersen (1970) assumes that Deut. 20.19 is a question and registers it as
one of his 555 clause types: it is #547 (p. 107). He appears not to register any other
passage that has the same type.
19
your fear of God your confidence, and the integrity of your ways your
hope?' This has some similarity to the sentence of Deut. 20.19, but differs
in the important presence of the pronoun suffixes. Job 10.5, &13N "'ID''3n
~DJ "'D-D "pmDETDN "per, is again not very similar. Job 6.12, rO'DK
271 n] "Hfcn'DN TO D"1]^, differs in some ways , for example, in having
the different particle DK and in having a personal suffix twice. But none of
these is very similar. If the central sentence of Deut. 20.19 is indeed a
rhetorical question, it seems to be one of a rather unusual type for the
Hebrew Bible.
Though occurrences of the interrogative particle are quite numerous, I
found that a large proportion belonged to other clause patterns.
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
A large group has the collocation with N *? 'not', thus N *?n. Since
it means in effect 'is it not the case that?', this is less a question,
and more a strong assertion of the positive.
Another large group is formed by those that have a verb: 'shall
animals be slaughtered?' (Num. 11.22).
A third large group have some sort of local or deictic expression:
'is there no balm in Gilead?' (Jer. 8.22). So in the common
expression 'Is there peace for X?'
Again, there may be a personal pronoun, for example, 'Art thou
my son Esau?', which makes a category different from that to
which Deut. 20.19, if a question, would belong.
Again there may be an 'or', which may make a difference. Job
7.19, 'Am I a Sea or a Tannin?', is not really asking a question
between alternatives. It does not ask whether Job is a Yam or a
Tannin. Rather, it combines two alternative questions: Am I a
Yam? Or, am I a Tannin?
Of course, then, rhetorical questions existed and could have existed here:
but how likely is it that one of them would be used in exactly this rather
unusual legal passage?
A simpler and perhaps bolder approach is to avoid the rhetorical question and simply insert the word not, perhaps accompanying it with the comparative term like. This is done in Targumim such as Onkelos, PseudoJonathan and Neofiti, and in the Syriac. The total effect of this is similar to
that produced by interpretation as a rhetorical question, but it avoids the
question form and thus by implication takes the initial letter of DINH as
the definite article, which would be the obvious way for the average reader
to see it. All in slightly different words say that 'the tree of the field is not
20
like the human being'. Pseudo-Jonathan has an additional aspect: it is

concerned with the idea that a human fugitive might conceal himself from
before the attackers in the siege or siege works. Thusiporque un arbol en
la superficie del campo no es como un hombre quepuede esconderse de
delante de vosotros en el esedio (Diez Macho 1980: 175).
Moreover, there is another, markedly different, Jewish (and Christian)
tradition. S.R. Driver (Driver 1906:240) expressed this well, starting from
the MT:
[MT] can only be rendered, 'man is the tree of the field', which is explained
to mean 'man consists of the tree of the field', i.e. he lives on it (so Ibn Ezra
who paraphrases iTTIZn |T Kin DIN ]H "H ""D, whence AV).
Ibn Ezra read the clause in what seems a natural order, as any Hebrew
reader would, but has to supply an additional semantic element, viz. 'life
of. Is this illegitimate? Well, it depends. Ibn Ezra could have been influenced by the parallel (in the very same corpus) of the millstone, which one
is forbidden to take in pledge. Why? Because it means taking I23B3, life, in
pledge. If this could be true of a millstone, why not of a fruit tree? Other
parallels might perhaps be thought of.
Anyway, as Driver said, AV followed this line, as always scrupulously
marking with italics the words that it had supplied.
When thou shalt besiege a city a long time, in making war against it to take
it, thou shalt not destroy the trees thereof by forcing an axe against them;
for thou mayest eat of them, and thou shalt not cut them down (for the tree
of the field is man's life).
Thus understood, the basic linkage between tree and human was positive
and not negative. The point of the central sentence was not an antithesis,
but the expression of a common element between tree and human. The
advantage of the reading by Ibn Ezra and AV is that it takes the words
more in the way they would naturally be read and avoids the gross alteration made by introducing a negative or introducing a rhetorical question.
Though they had to introduce a semantic element (life) that was not expressed in the text, it was an element that could perhaps be defended.
To sum up on the purely grammatical side, it remains quite possible that
the solution now customary, following the LXX and making the phrase into
a rhetorical question, may be quite right. But it has been too easily done
and too easily accepted, without adequate consideration of the several
difficulties which have been pointed out here. It seems to me that very little
has been done to explore the alternative possibility of starting with the MT
21
and seeing where it may lead. In this respect I was pleased to see that
DCH (I, 124) has given 'the trees of the field are human' as its first gloss
on the passage, though rightly adding in parenthesis the possibility of the
alternative text.
A more serious difficulty in the now customary solution is: if the sentence is a question, why should this question be asked at all? The law in
itself, omitting the central sentence, is clear enough: if the tree is fruit bearing, you must leave it; if it is not fruit bearing, you can cut it down and use
it as timber. Does this rather simple instruction require to be supported by
a hazy and poetic appeal to the difference of status between the human and
the arboreal? No such support is found in the closely comparable laws of
the bird's nest (Deut. 22.6-7) and of the millstone (24.6), or indeed in
much of the legal material of the book. What is the logic of the contrast
between human and tree? This support fails to agree with the law that it is
supposed to support, for it gives no place for the distinction between fruitbearing and non-fruit-bearing trees which is the principle of that law. It
seems to introduce a quite other distinction, that between human beings,
whom it will be natural to destroy without limit, and trees, about which
prudence will dictate some careful discrimination. Some might think of the
converse position, namely, that the distinction is between human life, which
is valuable and indeed sacrosanct, and arboreal entities, only some of which
need be protected; but the context seems entirely contrary to such an interpretation, for it is assumed that human life can be destroyed in war while
fruit-bearing trees are to be exempt from warlike destruction.
All in all, therefore, the central sentence leads one to consider whether it
really belongs to the question of distinguishing between fruit trees and
other trees and whether it refers to a different stage or a different period.
One naturally thinks of the D"in or ritual destruction of persons, animals
and things taken in war, especially since this very institution has just been
referred to (Deut. 20.10-18).
It has often been thought that Deuteronomy's laws included some considerable elements of ethical progress and humanization, and laws like
those of the fruit trees and the bird's nest have been seen in this way. But
in the case of the fruit trees it does not work so well. For if the siege is successful and the city captured, then the victorious troops would take over
the city and its lands; in that case it would be only self-interest not to
damage the fruit trees. On the other hand, one must consider the interesting
thoughts of Carmichael (1974: 132). He writes that the language of our
puzzling sentence 'implies that the practice [of destroying fruit-trees]
22
existed, may even have been enjoined', but that 'common sense and practical counsel call for its cessation'. In Deut. 20.16-17 and in its 'influencing
law', 13.12-18, 'all of an enemy's spoil, including by implication his fruit
trees, must be totally destroyed'.
This might suggest that the wrong the law seeks to forbid is not the
cutting down of fruit trees to provide wood for siege works, but rather an
older 'religious zeal' (CarmichaePs words) which positively longed for
their destruction for its own sake. The destruction of the trees thus took
them out of human use and production, just as domestic animals were
killed and metal utensils dedicated to special religious use. Notoriously,
the rules regarding spoils of war are altered as between one place and
another in the Bible, so that this would not be surprising. And indeed the
principle of the D~in might well seem to be contradicted if the fruit trees
continued to be kept in production when other goods and resources were
destroyed.
This is an attractive line of thought, and yet it seems to me more likely
that some of the laws of war stood outside the boundaries of the D"1FI and
that this was so of our law of the fruit trees, as likewise of the law of the
captive woman (21.10-14). The well-known case of 2 Kgs 3.19, where the
Lord through Elisha enjoins that every city of the Moabites should be
conquered, every good tree cut down, the water springs blocked and every
good piece of land ruined with stones, seems to imply a savage lust for
destruction but something different from the Din. The rhetorical question
about the human and the tree, however, which blends poorly with its present context, may indeed come from older ideas of war, or, perhaps better,
from ideas of human relations with nature. Would it be totally fantastic to
see a relation with the blind man just recovering his sight (Mk 8.24), who
said, 'I see people, that I see some walking about like trees'? What is the
mental background of such a perception?
This brought me to recall Johannes Pedersen, who thought extensively
of these matters (Pedersen 1940: II, 22-32).
The Israelite knows that even the plants and trees have a life which is to be
absorbed and exploited, but not violated. [Fruit must not be taken until the
fifth year, and] thus the tree is slowly being made intimate with the world of
men (Pedersen 1926:1,486).
These thoughts might be a starting point for interpretation of our difficult

verse. And similarly, if we think as Pedersen did of the 'soul' that animates
everything, the tree has a soul:
23
If we take a tree such as the palm, the individual palm is a form of the palm
species, of the life or soul of the palm. The soul is the tree as a whole, but it
is also something separate, an organon from which palm life flows (1940:
II, 507).
He was impressed by the thought of Eliphaz, 'With the stones of the field
is thy covenant, and the wild beasts of the plain have been brought to
peace with thee' (Job 5.23), and equally with Job 31.39 (Pedersen 1940:
II, 507-508).
Where does this leave us? I have no illusions of having 'solved' this
problem. The most I have done is to point out some weaknesses in the present consensus, which may nevertheless turn out to be entirely right. But I
do think that alternatives ought to be explored. And, as soon as we consider
that the human and the arboreal might be more positively related, we have
to look again at the vague and ill-related words at the end of the sentence.
The words are Deuteronomic but they seem as if they were fragments of
quotations from another context: and Deuteronomy often quotes characteristic phrases, its own or those of other biblical writers.4
Bibliography
Andersen, F.I.
1970
Barr, J.
1967
1990
The Hebrew Verbless Clause in the Pentateuch (Nashville: Abingdon Press).

'Vocalization and the Analysis of Hebrew among the Ancient Translators', in
Hebrdische Wortforschung: Festschrift zum 80. Geburtstagvon Walter Baumgartner (ed. Benedikt Hartman et al; VTSup, 16; Leiden: E.J. Brill): 1-11.
' "Guessing" in the Septuagint', in Studien zur Septuaginta, Robert Hanhartzu
Ehren (ed. D. Frankel, U. Quast and J.W. Wevers; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck&
Ruprecht): 19-34.
Carmichael, C.
1974
The Laws in Deuteronomy (Ithaca: Cornell University Press).
Diez Macho, A.
1980
Deuteronomium (Biblia Polyglotta Matritensia, Series 4; Targum Palaestinense in Pentateuchum, 5; Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones
Cientificas).
4. It is a pleasure to dedicate these thoughts, with congratulations, to David Clines.

I remember with special gratitude his speech of introduction for me when I lectured at
the Society of Biblical Literature in New Orleans: it was beautifully worded, very generous and very accurate, and was the best of such introductions I have ever received.
Biblical study has gained enormously from his initiative and his readiness to explore
new paths.
24
Dogniez, C., and M. Harl

1992
La Bible d'Alexandrie. V. Le Deuteronome (Paris: Cerf)Driver, S.R.
1906
A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Deuteronomy (ICC; New York:
Charles Scribner's Sons).
Hatch, E., and H.A. Redpath
1907
A Concordance to the Septuagint (2 vols.; Oxford: Clarendon Press).
Jenni, E., and C. Westermann (eds.)
1971, 1976 Theologisches Handworterbuch zum Alien Testament (2 vols.; Munich:
Kaiser Verlag).
Mayes, A.D.H.
1979
Deuteronomy (New Century Bible; London: Marshall, Morgan & Scott).
Mitchell, H.G.
1908
'The Omission of the Interrogative Particle', in Old Testament and Semitic
Studies in Memory of William Rainey Harper (ed. R.F. Harper, F. Brown and
G.F. Moore; 2 vols.; Chicago: University of Chicago Press): I, 115-29.
Muraoka, T.
1993
A Greek-English Lexicon of the Septuagint. Twelve Prophets (Louvain:
Peeters).
Pedersen, J.
1926, 1940 Israel: Its Life and Culture (4 vols. in 2; Copenhagen: Branner).
THE PROPHET ODED AND THE ZAKKUR INSCRIPTION: A CASE OF

OBSCURIORE OBSCURUMT
Hans M. Barstad
The Personal Name Oded

There are (apparently) two persons by the name of Oded in the Hebrew
Bible: the prophet Azariah is called bn-'wdd in 2 Chron. 15.1, and a
prophet Oded ('ddhnby') is mentioned in 2 Chron. 15.8. As we may see
from the current commentaries, however, the reference to Oded in 15.8 is
text-critically problematic (Rudolph 1955: 244; Japhet 1993: 717). In the
Septuagint, the prophet of v. 8 is called Adad. Codex Alexandrinus has
Adad also in v. 1. More attention has been attached to the prophet Oded
('dd) mentioned in the Chronicler's version of the story of King Ahaz of
Judah, in 2 Chron. 28.9 (Micheel 1983: 60-62; Mason 1990: 90-94 and
passim). This text, too, however, is problematic, and the Masoretic text
seems not to be of a good quality. It is of a certain interest that the Peshitta
here has WwIddo, and not Oded. The names Iddo and Oded are probably somehow related (Ross 1970: 7).
Since the name is not found elsewhere, it is not difficult to understand
why extra-biblical evidence has played such an important part in the discussion of the biblical name Oded. By 'extra-biblical evidence', I am here,
above all, thinking of the Old Aramaic Zakkur inscription, dating to the
late ninth, early eighth century.
A problem in itself concerns the occurrence of the name Oded on a
Hebrew seal, dated from the seventh to the sixth centuries BCE. From the
secondary literature, one may get the impression that this text is unproblematic (Davies 1991:177,456; Gogel 1998: 110,360,483). However, in
David Clines' s distinguished career is so often associated with literary criticism
and postmodern approaches that it is easily forgotten that he is also responsible for
another pioneering achievement: The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. This modest contribution is dedicated to David the lexicographer.
26
Readingfrom Right to Left
a catalogue of Israelite museum seals, the editors write: 'The second name
presents some difficulty, and can perhaps be vocalized as 'Oded, a name
mentioned in the Bible (2 Chron. 15.1, 8)' (Hestrin and Dayagi-Mendels
1979: No. 94). Moreover, when I look at the photograph in the catalogue,
it seems to me that what is found in the second line of the seal looks more
like drr than 'dd.
The Zakkur Text
In the Zakkur text, we are informed, among other things, of how King
Zakkur of Hamath (Kama) prayed to Baal-Shamen for assistance during
a siege, and how the deity answered him (KAI 202, line A12): \b\yd.
hzyn.wbyd. 'dan, 'through seers and 'ddrC (the plural n of 'ddis restored).
Whereas many would claim that hzyn, 'seers', is unproblematic (we could,
however, have to do with a word for 'prophecy', 'vision', rather than 'prophet', 'seer'), the meaning of 'ddhas, to this day, not been satisfactorily
explained. From the context, though, it may be assumed that the word 'dd
has something to do with divination.
The text was first published by Pognon (Pognon 1907: 156-78, PL IX,
Pis. xxxv-xxxvi). Pognon's editioprinceps has played an important role as
all later text-editions are based on it (Pognon 1907: PL xxxv). Pognon did
not, however, refer to Chronicles. It is often assumed (following Lidzbarski 1915: III, 8) that Halevy was the first to suggest a connection
between 'ddin the Zakkur text and the biblical personal name Oded. Since
then, many scholars have read Zakkur A12 in the light of 2 Chronicles,
and vice versa. A fairly comprehensive bibliography is available from the
Comprehensive Aramaic Lexicon Project (Fitzmyer and Kaufman 1992:
13-14). Additions to the printed edition are accessible on-line.
Depending on how one understands the etymology, or the context, of
'dd, the lexeme has variously been rendered as 'messenger' (Ross 1970:3;
Gibson 1975:9; Cody 1979:104; Becking 1986:446; Reinhold 1989:257;
Hoftijzer and Jongeling 1995: II, 827-28; Jeffers 1996: 37; Lipinski 2000:
255,509), 'diviner' (Brauner 1975:10; Millard2000:155), 'prophet' (Parker 1997: 107), 'a sort of ecstatic or oracular prophet' (Greenfield 1987:
73), 'foreteller' (Black 1961: 246), 'arbitrator' (Sanmartin 1980: 347) and
'soothsayer' (Gogel 1998:110 n. 97). In German, we find the following renderings: 'Wahrsager' (Lidzbarski 1915: 10; Gressmann 1926: 444; Koopmans 1962:1,27; Delsman 1982:627), 'Prophet', 'Seher' (Noth 1928:252),
'Zukunftskundig' (Dormer andRollig 1973:205; Fuhs 1978:48), 'Orakel-
BARSTAD The Prophet Oded and the Zakkur Inscription
27
deuter' (Degen 1969:47), 'Mantiker' or 'Orakelpriester' (Zobel 1971:97).

In the French literature, we find 'devin' (Ramlot 1972: 901; Sader 1987:
209) and 'messager' (Lemaire 1993: 43).
Lidzbarski 's Legacy
The influence of Lidzbarski's study from 1915 on early Zakkur scholarship can hardly be overestimated. Even though he was not the first one
to relate the Zakkur inscription to Oded in 2 Chronicles (see above), Lidzbarski's authority secured this connection for subsequent generations.
Lidzbarski translated 'ddn as 'Wahrsager' (Lidzbarski 1915: 10). He also
suggested that Oded in 2 Chronicles was an appellative, rather than a
name. He admits that the meaning of 'ddis obscure (Lidzbarski 1915:8).
He, does, however, relate the word to Arabic 'adda, 'to count', 'to number',
or 'to prepare', suggesting a meaning 'counters' (Zdhler), or 'preparers'
(Bereiter). Since he is able to establish that the tails of the double consonant dd are long, he rules out the possibility that these letters can be rr,
and the word in question 'rrn, 'awakeners' (of gods).
Lidzbarski's view on the name Oded was introduced already into the
17th edition of Gesenius' Dictionary in 1915, and in the first edition of
Koehler's and Baumgartner's Dictionary in 1953. The impact of this on
later scholarship is obvious. For instance, in his influential work on Israelite personal names Martin Noth suggests that Oded is an invention by the
Chronicler, and that the name simply means 'seer', 'prophet' (Noth 1928:
252). Dormer, too, is dependent on Lidzbarski. When commenting on line
A12, he refers to Arabic 'adda as a possible etymology for 'ddn (which he
takes to be an active masc. pi. part.). Dormer translates 'ddn 'Zukunftskundigen' ['ruture-knowers'] (Dormer andRollig 1973: II, 205). He further refers to Oded in 2 Chronicles 15 (and 28), suggesting that what we
have here is not a personal name but an appellative (Dormer and Rollig
1973:11,208).
Also Fuhs takes 'dd in 2 Chronicles to be an appellative rather than a
proper name (Fuhs 1978: 48 n. 220). The most recent author that I have
come across who believes that biblical Oded should not be considered a
personal name is Gogel (Gogel 1998: 110 n. 97).
The view that the Chronicler's Oded is not a name, but an appellative, is
a main reason why the 'prophet' in the Zakkur inscription has played such
an important role in the discussion of the 'prophet' in 2 Chronicles 15 and
28. There are good reasons to suppose that the Zakkur text would have
28
attracted far less attention if Lidzbarski had not introduced this view into
his influential handbook. Here, we must also bear in mind former generations' low estimation of Chronicles in general and the proper names in
Chronicles in particular (Fowler 1988: 21).
In point of fact, Oded ('weld, 'dd) is not impossible to explain, and has
been understood as a proper name by quite a few scholars. BDB regards
Oded, 'Restorer', as a masculine proper name (from * 'wd, with the probable meanings: 'return', 'go about', 'repeat' 'do again'). HALATexplains
the proper name Oded ('wdd, 'dd) as a shortened form of 'He (YHWH) has
helped up' (polel of 'wdl, 'help', 'help up'). It is not so important whether
any of these suggestions is correct or not. The main thing is that the name
'wdd( 'dd) is perfectly understandable as a shortened name form. Rudolph,
for instance, admits that we cannot know with certainty the etymology of
the name. Nevertheless, he believes that Oded should be taken as a shortened form of an ordinary constructed (sentence) proper name (Rudolph
1955: 245 n. 1).
The Ugaritic 'dd Material
Whereas Dormer's authoritative edition of the Zakkur inscription does not
refer to any Ugaritic texts at all, recent years have witnessed a significant
change in scholarly positions. It is, for instance, a result of Ugaritic influence when the review above lists 'messenger' as the most frequent rendering of Old Aramaic 'dd.
An eager proponent for finding an Ugaritic cognate etymology for 'ddn
in Zakkur A12 is Ross. He refers to earlier scholars who have pointed to
Ugaritic parallels (above all Ginsberg), and mentions several texts. The
main text, however, is CTCA 4.VII.45ff. [KTU 1.4]. Here, Ross translates
WJas 'messenger, ambassador, herald, or the like' (Ross 1970: 6). Ross
provides us also with a useful survey of Zakkur research (Ross 1970:4-8).
As for Oded, Ross, too, follows Noth, and asks: 'is it not possible that the
Chronicler (or his source) is using an old term for a prophet-messenger as
a proper name?' (Ross 1970: 8).
There are, however, some inaccuracies in Ross's work. For instance, he
criticizes scholars who translate 'ddon the basis of the context rather than
from a proper understanding of 'root meanings' (Ross 1970: 4-5). As we
know, 'root meanings' are highly controversial. When facing semantic
problems, it is vital to draw on both etymology and context. Moreover,
Ugaritic 'dd and Arabic 'adda are not opposites the way Ross appears to
29
assume (Ross 1970: 5). These roots are probably related (Thompson 1965:
232-33).
Willi also gives a series of references to Ugaritic texts: I* ABIV, 25; II
AB III, 11; II AB VII, 46; III AB, B 22,26,28, 30,41,44 (Willi 1972: 221
n. 23). Willi, however, is not convinced that all of these texts are of equal
interest, and he believes that II AB VII, 46 [KTU 1.4] makes the best starting point. After a discussion of different possibilities, he seems to favour
the translation 'messenger' ('Bote'). Gibson, too, translates 'messengers'
(Gibson 1975: 9), and refers to Ugaritic 'dd, 'herald', occurring in II AB
vii 46 [KTU 1.4] (Gibson 1975: 15).
We notice that, although quite a few Ugaritic passages are referred to,
only one text appears to be sufficiently lucid to be used by all scholars:
KTU 1.4 (II AB, UT 51, CT[C]A 4). The text in question is the story of
Baal's temple building, and the relevant words are found in a passage
where the fight with Mot is anticipated. For the sake of clarification, I quote
KTU 1.4.45-47a: dllali lak. I bn [46] ilm.mt. 'dd.lydd [47] il.gzr... The
text may be translated as follows: 45. A dll, messenger (Olmo Lete and
Sanmartin 1996:1,132), I shall not send (or I shall send) to the son 46. of
the gods (= the god) Mot, a 'ddto the beloved of 47. II, the hero ... We
should note that the continuation of this text, lines 47b-49a, is extremely
difficult and has been interpreted in a variety of ways. There is, consequently, not much help to be gained from the rest of the context.
We notice that 'ddin line 46 parallels dll, 'messenger', in line 45. Judging from the context, we may also translate 'dd with 'messenger' as has
been done by some scholars. This rendering, however, is debatable, and,
frankly, we do not know for certain the meaning of Ugaritic 'dd. Sanmartin
(1980: 346), for instance, claims that 'ddn of the Zakkur inscription should
be related to Old Aramaic 'd, 'treaty' (Hoftijzer and Jongeling 1995: II,
824-25). He translates dll with 'Makler' ['mediator, negotiator'] and 'dd
with 'fur Vertrage Zustandiger' ['arbitrator'] (Sanmartin 1980: 347). The
argument is not whether Sanmartin is correct or not. He has, for instance,
been criticized by Becking, who still prefers the translation 'messenger'.
Becking claims that 'messenger' also fits much better for the slmy h 'don a
fourth (?) century Hebrew (Ammonite? Edomite?) seal (Becking 1986).
However, even if this could be the case, it is probably impossible to decide
on the basis of such scanty evidence alone.
Concerning the Ugaritic evidence, we should probably follow the conclusion of Jonas Greenfield who once suggested a Ugaritic parallel for Old
Aramaic 'dd (Greenfield 1972: 176). When commenting on the same text a
30
few years later, however, he writes about 'ddn that it 'is without a cognate
and has not to date been convincingly interpreted' (Greenfield 1987: 73).
Zakkur Reading Difficulties
There are also other problems connected with the Zakkur inscription that
should be mentioned here. The well-known difficulty of distinguishing
between d and r was felt also by the early readers of the Zakkur inscription. Above, we noted how Lidzbarski did not find this to be a problem in
relation to Zakkur A12. However, when commenting on the deity 'Iwr in
line Al, Lidzbarski is unable to decide whether to read 'Iwr or 'Iwd. Likewise, he is not certain whether the name brhdd in lines A4 and A5 should
be read as brhdd or brhdr (Lidzbarski 1915: 3, 7).
On a few occasions, scholars have also claimed that 'dd of our text
should be read as 'rr. Some years ago, Uffenheimer maintained that we
should read 'rrn, 'awakeners', as a plural participle from 'wr (Uffenheimer
1966). He was, deservedly, criticized by, among others, Degen (1968; 1969:
6). Even if it may be difficult in some places in the Zakkur inscription to
know whether we are dealing with a d or an r, this does not apply in the
case of 'dd'vn. line A12. Also on Pognon's heliograph (Pognon 1907: PI.
ix), the letters 'dd are very clear, and there appears to be no reason to
doubt this reading. Here, I am also grateful for the expertise of my friend
Andre Lemaire who checked his 'good photographs', and sent me the
following electronic message (on 27 January 2002): 'the reading of DD is
perfectly clear and the length of the tail is clearly shorter than for a R. For
the N, we have only part of the head so the reading is between very probable and practically certain'.
Lemaire's statement is reassuring also with regard to the n. When
judging from Pognon's heliograph alone (Pognon 1907: PI. ix), the fairly
significant part of an n that appears on the printed text (Pognon 1907: PI.
xxxv = KAI HI, PI. xiii) is somewhat unexpected. One might have supposed that the reconstruction of the n is strongly influenced by the n of the
preceding hzyn. It is puzzling that Lidzbarski in his text edition did not
indicate that the n is reconstructed (Lidzbarski 1915: III, 3). Since he was
here followed by others (e.g. Koopmans 1962: II, 3), this led to the impression, found in of some of the secondary literature, that the n is unproblematic.
Another uncertainty that has played a remarkably insignificant part in
scholarly discussions is the matter of scribal errors. In the editioprinceps,
31
Pognon maintains that the meaning of the words hzyn and 'ddn is uncertain. He does, however, compare hzyn to Syriac hzy', which he translates
'spectateur', 'voyant', 'devin', 'prophete'. As for 'ddn, he mentions that this
may be an error for 'rdn, 'helpers'. He does not, however, put much weight
on this suggestion, rather doubting that there is a mistake in the text (Pognon 1907: 167).
When, as in the present case, a word fails to yield any satisfactory meaning, we cannot exclude the possibility that we are dealing with a rare word,
or a word that is, hitherto, not (well) known. On the other hand, the option
of scribal mistakes should not be ruled out. Scribal errors were quite common in all the cultures that we are dealing with here, including that of
Ugarit (Segert 1961).
Scribal errors are well known also in Phoenician inscriptions (Benz
1972: 200-202). In fact, Benz claims that the frequent confusion between
letters in Phoenician inscriptions suggests that the engravers were illiterate, and that they 'could not read or follow the copy from which they
worked' (Benz 1972:245 n. 2). Since Old Aramaic and Phoenician shared
the same alphabet until the middle of the eighth century BCE, Phoenician
scribal practices are, of course, highly relevant in our case.
Scribal errors are known also from Old Aramaic inscriptions. Degen
provides some illuminating examples from the Sefire inscription, which is
almost contemporary with the Zakkur stela (Degen 1969: 25).
Quite likely, scribal errors are more frequent when confusion between
letters is close at hand, as in the case of d and r. This is probably also why
the 'first reader' in modern times, Pognon (see above), suggested that 'ddn
was a scribal error for the well known 'dm (Fowler 1988: 223; Maraqten
1988: 227). The rendering 'helper' also seems to fit the context of Zakkur
A12 well. However, since the original phonemes *dand *z in Old Aramaic
were both represented graphically as the bivalent z (Garr 1985: 26), this
may be less likely. The shift from * d to d appeared later, perhaps in the
seventh or the sixth century (Ginsberg 1945: 161 n. 8; Bordreuil 1986:
90). A possible misspelling of 'dr is, nevertheless, worth mentioning. There
appears to be little standardization in the earliest inscriptions. Moreover,
since what is known of Old Aramaic only represents a linguistic fragment,
we know too little to be certain in these matters. Besides, we must always
reckon with the possibility of dialectal variants.
Another, quite probable, scribal confusion is to mistake a d for a b. For
instance, when commenting on 'ddn in Zakkur A12, Noldeke discussed
whether the third letter could be a b, in which case we would get the word
32
'dbn, 'lots' ('Lose'). He rejects his own suggestion, however, since Pognon's heliograph, in his view, did not seem to favour the reading of a b
(Noldeke 1908: 382). As we noticed above, there can be no doubt about
the letter d. However, if we take into consideration also the possibility of a
scribal error of a d for a b, we get, with Noldeke, a possible 'dbn, which
could refer to lots as oracular media.
If the error is found not in the third but in the second letter, we get the
word 'bd, conventionally translated as 'slave', 'servant', 'bdll is found in
North-West Semitic inscriptions from all periods, and it is frequent in
Aramaic texts (Hoftijzer and Jongeling 1995: II, 817). Moreover, the word
is often used of cultic personnel (Hoftijzer and Jongeling 1995: II, 81819). We notice with interest that the use of 'bd for a cultic servant has a
long history, and is found also much later in Palmyrene Aramaic texts
(Stark 1971: 102).
I shall mention only one last possible scribal error. If we take the second
d as dittography, we get another word: 'd I, 'treaty'. The word occurs in
Old Aramaic inscriptions in connection with deities (Hoftijzer and Jongeling 1995: II, 825). This suggestion, moreover, brings us closer to the
Ugaritic parallel referred to above.
Speculations like the ones that I have just presented could go on and on.
It is not my point here that any one of these suggestions necessarily
provides us with the correct answer. What is important is the stressing of
the difficulties that we are facing. I believe that it is only fair to admit that
we do not know at all how 'dd in Zakkur A12 should be understood.
Notwithstanding this, we may assume, on the basis of the context, that 'dd
or, possibly, another word, has something to do with divination.
Reading More than There Is...
In the secondary literature, one finds, quite often, statements concerning
Aramaic religion and ancient Israelite prophecy based on the occurrence
of the word 'ddn in Zakkur A12. For instance, it is rather surprising to
read the following remark (no further comments on the intricate problems
involved are given): 'The system of court prophets in Israel has a long
history behind it' (Black 1961: 250).
Zobel claims that the question whether we have to do with two different
professions, that of a cultic prophet or that of an oracle priest, has to be
answered on the background of the inscription itself. He is inclined to
believe, on text-internal grounds (there is only one salvation oracle [!]),
33
that we are dealing with different titles for similar priestly functionaries
(Zobel 1971:97-98).
Jeffers writes:
Zakir invokes his god who in turn answers him. But is the word of Baalshamayn perceived by both 'seers' and 'revealers' in the same way, or have
they a different function, i.e. the 'seers' see visions and the 'revealers' tell
the news? Do the seers have to be accompanied by interpreters? These questions remain unanswered (Jeffers 1996: 37).
Despite his wise caution concerning the etymology of 'dd Greenfield is

more optimistic when it comes to extracting historical information from
the text:
It was perhaps a sort of ecstatic or oracular prophet, or one like the apilu
known from Mari texts, who bring the divine answer. Since both words are
in the plural, it is clear that Zakkur had a battery of prophets working for
him (Greenfield 1987: 73).
Lipinski writes:
As for a differentiation of the hzh, literally 'seer', from the 'dd, attested at
Ugarit with the meaning 'spokesman', it is difficult to establish it on such a
tenuous basis, but the inscription seems to distinguish the man of God who
receives the divine message and the one who notifies it to the person to
whom it is addressed (Lipinski 2000: 509).
When noticing the meagre evidence, as well as all the other problems
with the interpretation of 'ddn in Zakkur A12, it is remarkable how much
information some scholars are able to provide. It may be, in view of the
many difficulties involved, that future research should be more careful as
to how many historical details it is reasonable to extract from the text.
Conclusion
The publication of the Old Aramaic Zakkur stela in 1907 soon led scholars
to make comparisons between the enigmatic 'ddn. in line A12 of this text
and the problematic personal name Oded in 2 Chronicles 15 and 28. Since
then, a veritable 'Zakkur industry' has developed. The present paper is critical of much of this research. It remains a problem that 'ddn is still imperfectly understood. During recent years, the scholarly world appears to have
reached some sort of consensus. Based on Ugaritic parallels, 'ddn is, quite
commonly, translated by 'messengers'. However, the Ugaritic evidence is
also problematic. Since 'ddis so badly understood, we must reckon with
34
the possibility that we are dealing with a scribal error. Due to the many
problems involved, we should not continue to make comparisons between
Old Aramaic Vft/and the biblical name Oded. It is not sound, from a methodological point of view, to use another word in another language, from
another period of time, to explain a lexicographical problem when none of
the words that are compared can be said to be well understood. Also, it is
not impossible to explain the name Oded as a regularly constructed personal name. In fact, this is precisely what many scholars have done.
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Northwest Semitic Inscriptions and the Hebrew Bible (New York: Oxford
University Press).
Pognon, H.
1907
Inscriptions semitiques de la Syrie, de la Mesopotamie et de la region de
Mossoul (Paris: Victor Lecoffre, J. Gabalda).
37
Ramlot, L.
1972
'Prophetisme', DBSup 8: 811-1222.
Reinhold, G.G.G.
1989
Die Beziehungen Altisraels zu den aramdischen Staaten in der israelitischjuddischen Konigszeit (European University Studies, Series 23,368; Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang).
Ross,J.F.
1970
'Prophecy in Hamath, Israel, and Mari', HTR 63: 1-28.
Rudolph, W.
1955
Chronikbucher (HAT, 1/21; Tubingen: J.C.B. Mohr).
Sader, H.S.
1987
Les etats arameens de Syrie, depuis leurfondationjusqu 'a leur transformation en provinces assyriennes (Beiruter Texte und Studien, 36; Beirut: Franz
Steiner).
Sanmartin, J.
1980
'Zu den W(^-Denominierungen im Ugaritischen', UF 12: 345-48.
Segert, S.
1961
'Die Schreibfehler in den Ugaritischen literarischen Keilschrifttexten im
Anschluss an das textkritische Hilfsbuch von Friedrich Delitzsch klassifiziert', in J. Hempel and L. Rost (eds.), Von Ugarit nach Qumran: Beitrdge
zur alttestamentlichen und altorientalischen Forschung Otto Eissfeldtzum 1.
September 1957 dargebracht (BZAW, 77; Berlin: Alfred Topelmann): 193212.
Stark, J.K.
1971
Personal Names in Palmyrene Inscriptions (Oxford: Clarendon Press).
Thompson, J.A.
1965
'Expansions of the 11? Root', JSS 10: 222-40.
Uffenheimer, B.
1966
' "The Awakeners": A Cultic Term from the Ancient Near East' (in Hebrew),
Les 30: 163-74.
Willi, T.
1972
Die Chronik als Auslegung: Untersuchungen zur literarischen Gestaltung
der historischen Uberlieferung Israels (FRLANT, 106; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht).
Zobel, H.-J.
1971
'Das Gebet um Abwendung der Not und seine Erhorung in den Klageliedern
des Alten Testaments und in der Inschrift des Konigs Zakir von Hamath', VT
21:91-99.
AN EARLY METACOMMENTARY: TERTULLIAN'S AGAINSTMARCION

John Barton
Not the least of David Clines's many contributions to biblical studies

has been his creation of a new genre, the metacommentary. As the name
suggests, this is a commentary on commentaries. But it is not simply a
'helpful' account of which is the 'best' commentary among the profusion
available on any biblical book, a 'Guide to Commentaries for the Scholar's
(or Preacher's) Bookshelf such as might be found in Interpretation or The
Expository Times. It is an attempt to confront the assumptions and presuppositions of the commentators. To borrow expressions from the title of
David Clines's collected metacommentaries (Clines 1995), it is meant to
make us aware that commentators are 'interested parties' who have 'ideologies'seldom if ever înterested readers with a pure concern for textual meaning.
I
Clines's metacommentaries point to three features found in nearly all commentaries of recent times:
1. They avoid reading the text in its natural sense when this would give
a meaning that they would personally be unable to accept, and then fudge
the issue by taking refuge in a subtle reformulation. Thus the Ten Commandments purport to have been spoken by God. Probably no critical commentator believes that they were: they are generally regarded as a human
formulation of certain basic ethical convictions, attributed to God by their
human author. (If the Pentateuch is pseudo-Moses, then the Decalogue is
pseudo-God.) But critical commentators generally do not say this in so
many words, but rather elide the issue, attributing a literal belief that God
uttered these ten sayings to a 'superficial' understanding of the Bible. Thus
they do not take the text in its obvious sense ('God spoke all these words'),
but change the meaning so that it is capable of being true according to
BARTON An Early Metacommentary
39
modern canons of what is historically probable ('These words developed

in Israelite thinking'). At the same time they continue to speak as though
the text were divinely dictated, benefiting from the rhetoric of such an
attribution while avoiding the risk of being convicted of crassness. Thus
Weinfeld, as cited by Clines: 'At the dawn of Israelite history the Ten Commandments were received in their original short form as the basic constitution, so to speak, of the Community of Israel. The words were chiselled or
written on two stone tablets' (my italics). 'Were received' gives the impression that they really are of divine origin, though it is quite clear from other
comments by Weinfeld that he actually believes them to have had a human
origin. He retains the biblical way of speaking, while radically reconceptualizing the content. This is a commentator acting in bad faith, according to
Clines, and his metacommentary on commentators on the Decalogue is
written to point it out and so set readers on their guard (see Clines 1995:
26-45).
2. They fail to distinguish between restating what the text says in their
own words, and expressing value judgments based on their own (usually
religious) convictions. Clines illustrates this nicely with a quotation from
Erling Hammershaimb's Amos commentary. Hammershaimb slips almost
imperceptibly from 'For him [Amos] Yahweh is the creator God, who has
led the people out of Egypt and preserved them during the forty years of
wandering in the wilderness, and then defeated the Amorites in the land of
Canaan, so that Israel could dwell there'which can hardly be faulted as a
presentation of what the text says or impliesto 'He knows too that Yahweh has continuously cared for the spiritual well-being of the people, and
sent prophets to speak to the people and remind them of his commandments'. 'Knows' here is the give-away. Hammershaimb is no longer telling us what Amos believed. He is telling us that Amos is right: that there
really is a Yahweh who really has cared for his people, and who did in fact
defeat the Amorites. Of course anyone is at liberty to believe thisthough
they perhaps ought to reflect a bit more on what it means in terms of real
human suffering to claim that God 'defeated' a given nation. But care
should be taken to distinguish between saying that the book of Amos implies it, and saying that it is indeed the case. Clines does not want commentators to suppress their own beliefs and opinions about the matters the
text deals withindeed, he would like them to be much more upfront
about them. What he does insist on is that they should not make an illegitimate, unacknowledged slide from what the text says to what they themselves wish to affirm (Clines 1995: 87, quoting Hammershaimb 1970:12).
40
3. Frequently commentators connive (as Clines would see it) at proposals made in the text, failing to recognize that it is itself an 'interested party'.
A good case is the social critique in the pre-exilic prophets, such as Amos.
Commentators almost always assume that the book of Amos is correct in
its analysis of the ills of Israelite society in Amos' day. If it says that the
rich were oppressing the poor, that they lived in excessive luxury, and that
they regularly perverted the course of justice, then this is all true: there is
no suspicion that the prophet (or whoever wrote the book) may have an
axe to grind, and may be overstating his case or even misleading the reader
for ends of his own. Furthermore, he is also assumed to be correct in asserting that such sin will result in national disaster. The prophets believe that
the corruption they detect in the society of their day will lead to the destruction of the nation; and the prophets are right. There may be interesting hermeneutical difficulties in applying all this to our own situation, but it is
seldom doubted for a moment that it was an adequate analysis of Israel in
the eighth century BCE. The commentator's task is held to be done once
Amos' critique, assumed from start to finish to be essentially correct, has
been illustrated from any supplementary evidence (other texts, archaeological finds, or whatever) that can be found. The task does not, people
think, include interrogating the assertions of the text in the light of a suspicion that they may be tendentious. And this idea is seriously mistaken:
commentators ought not to acquiesce in the text's notions in this supine
way (Clines 1995: 78-84). Clines's point here is one that would be shared
by many feminist scholars, who similarly do not believe that a commentator
should unquestioningly accept what the text tells them, but insist that it also
belongs to the commentator's task to go on to ask whether the text should
be believed.
II
I said that Clines invented metacommentary, and in terms of modern

scholarly literature this is certainly the case. But there have always been
those who criticized existing commentaries from one point of view or
another, and among them I think I have identified a precursor to Clines in
an important patristic text, Tertullian's work adversus Marcionem, Against
Marcion (see Evans 1972 for the text and translation followed here). A
brief analysis of the way Tertullian argues in this work will show some
surprising parallels with Clines's metacommentating approach, though
also of course some differences, which will concern us at the end.
41
Marcion arrived in Rome from Sinope in about 130. After being expelled from the church there for heresy, he went on to found a church of
his own, which flourished for many generations and was often a serious
rival to 'orthodox' Christianity in many places. We know about his beliefs
almost exclusively from his opponents, but a consistent picture of his
teaching emerges. Marcion believed that the God revealed in Jesus (who
was only apparently a manMarcion was a docetist) was quite different
from the creator God to whom the Old Testament bore witness, and that
Jesus' task had been to save those destined for salvation from the clutches
of the creator. The creator was a severe, punishing deity, but the God seen
in Jesus was a kind and forgiving figure. This meant that the Old Testament was to be seen as wholly set aside in the work of Jesus. Where the
Gospels implied or asserted that Jesus had referred to the Old Testament
with approval, that could only be because the text had been falsified by
adherents of the creator: in its true form (a truncated version of Luke) it
never implied any connection between the God of Jesus and the divinity
spoken of in the Old Testament.
We do not possess Marcion's work in its original form, but can at best
partially construct it from various patristic sources. Among these Tertullian's Against Marcion, which passed through three editions between 198
and 208, is the most important. Although we know that Marcion wrote a
work called Antitheses, in which he drew contrasts between the God of the
Old Testament and the saviour-God he believed to have been present in
Jesus, Tertullian does not comment directly on this work in Against Marcion. Rather, in Books 4 and 5 he seems either to be discussing a continuous commentary on the texts that Marcion included in his biblical canon
the (edited) Gospel according to Luke, and certain Pauline epistlesor
else to have arranged material from the Antitheses in biblical order, so as
to comment on Marcion's theories as they bear on the New Testament text
read sequentially. On either supposition we do not have Marcion's own
words, but from Tertullian's argument it is often possible to see what they
must have implied. (For the surviving fragments of Marcion's own work,
see the classic study by Adolf von Harnack [1924].) Thus what Tertullian
wrote is in effect a metacommentary. He attends to the text of the Gospel
and Epistles commentated by Marcion, and tries to show inadequacies in
Marcion's treatment of them, tracing these back to Marcion's peculiar
theology/ideology. It will be interesting to notice both similarities to and
differences from David Clines's metacommentating work. I shall limit my
comments to Book IV of Tertullian's work, which discusses the Gospel.
42
Readingfrom Right to Left
III
One of Tertullian's main charges against Marcion was of course that he
had falsified the text of Luke's Gospel by removing evidence of Jesus'
acceptance of the Old Testament, and of the identity of the creator god
with his own deity. However, Tertullian proceeded in detail by accepting
for the sake of argument the truncated Lukan text proposed by Marcion,
and attempting to show that even in its corrupted form it supported his
own interpretation of Jesus rather than Marcion's. Book 4, which deals
with the Gospel, ends indeed with these words: 'even in your gospel Jesus
Christ is mine'. The discussion proceeds on the basis that at least everything in Marcion's Gospel is authentic, even though there are wilfully introduced lacunae which to some extent distort it.
Tertullian's analysis of Marcion is guided throughout by the conviction
that Marcion makes certain theological assumptions, in the light of which
he interprets the text. Tertullian sees him as importing these assumptions
where they do not correspond to what the text most naturally seems to
mean.
One such assumption is that everything in the Gospel is the opposite of
everything in the Old Testament or in Judaism, so that whatever Jesus did
and said must be taken as implying a rejection of everything that had gone
before in Israel. Thus Marcion reads Luke 6.1-11, where Jesus heals on the
Sabbath, as implying that Jesus was opposed to the Sabbath because it was
a commandment of the creator god of the Old Testament and therefore not
in force within the new kingdom of the redeemer god revealed in Jesus.
Terrullian argues against this that Jesus enters into a controversy over just
what the Sabbath law does and does not require, and that in doing so he
clearly accepts that the Sabbath is itself of divine institution.
There could have been no discussion as to why he was breaking the sabbath, if it had been his duty to break it. And it would have been his duty to
break it, if he had belonged to that other god, and no one would have been
surprised as his doing what it was incumbent upon him to do (4.12).
Marcion's assumption that Jesus is opposed in principle to the law is thus

undermined by the logic of the story, which presupposes that he affirms the
Sabbath but has new insights to bring to its observance.
Tertullian goes on to argue that what Jesus did and said was, after all, not
so novel as Marcion thought, since it was anticipated in the Old Testament
itself. One of his most ingenious arguments on the subject of Sabbath-
43
keeping is that God himself suspended the Sabbath regulations when the
Israelites were invading Canaan, for he commanded the people to walk
round Jericho blowing trumpets for eight daysand eight days are bound
to include at least one Sabbath! Thus sabbath-breaking in a good cause is
already to be found in the Old Testament, and Marcion is therefore mistaken to oppose Old Testament to New on this point. Furthermore, Jesus'
suspension of the Sabbath is already anticipated in Isa. 1.14, where we
read, 'Your new moons and Sabbaths my soul hates': implying not that God
hates the Sabbath as such, but that he is opposed to the way people are keeping it. On this basis he can argue that Jesus is actually fulfilling Scripture by
his attitude to the Sabbathsomething of a tour deforce that might be felt
to offer a hostage to fortune, since (as we shall see) it concedes rather a lot
to Marcion's perception that there really is a considerable difference
between the old dispensation and the new, and that the old was aware of
its own possible demise. Still, so far as the argument goes, it is a good
debating point.
Another argument that Tertullian deploys against Marcion's interpretation
is that many of the elements that Marcion has retained in his gospel actually
presuppose the Old Testament or Judaism as blessed by God, and so cannot
be used to argue (as Marcion did) that Jesus was opposed to them. His very
first act, when (on Marcion's reading) he descends to earth, is to enter the
synagogue at Capernaum ('from heaven straightway into the synagogue',
4.7). How can Marcion suppose, asks Tertullian, that Jesus' mission was
to destroy Judaism, if his very first act was to enter a synagogue? Even if
Marcion has removed from the Gospel account such sayings as 'I am sent
only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel', which of course is in Matthew (15.24) not Luke, the very deeds which he retains testify to the same
idea.
See how he enters the synagogue first: surely to the lost sheep of the house
of Israel. See how he offers the bread of his doctrine to the Israelites first:
surely he is giving them preference as sons... Yet on whom would he have
been more ready to bestow it than on strangers to the Creator, if he himself
had not above all else belonged to the Creator? (4.7).
Thus according to Tertullian Marcion's interpretation of Jesus will not

square with the facts as he himself reports them. His interpretations are
tendentious.
Another assumption made by Marcion is that Jesus, as representing the
beneficent saviour-god, was always kind to othershe was a sort of'Gentle
Jesus, meek and mild'. Tertullian has no difficulty in showing, on the one
44
hand, that there are plenty of places in the Gospel where Jesus is stern.
This can be seen, for example, in his rebuking of demons: in the story in
Lk. 4.31 -37 the demoniac says, 'You have come to destroy us', and 'to that
extent he had recognized Jesus as the Son of the judge, the avenger, and (if
I may say so) the severe God, not of that perfectly good god who knows
nothing of destruction and punishment' (4.8). On the other hand, the God
of the Old Testament is not stern all the time, so that when Jesus does act
'mildly' that does not in itself mark him out as the proclaimer of a new
divinity: cf. Mic. 7.18-20, 'Who is a God like you, pardoning iniquity and
passing over the transgression of the remnant of your possession?' In forgiving sins Jesus is fulfilling prophecies such as these, not abolishing them
as part of the revelation of a malignant creator god (cf. 4.11). Thus the sharp
contrast between Old and New Testaments that is the basis of Marcion's
entire interpretation is not borne out by the texts themselves, but is imposed
upon them. So, at any rate, Tertullian argues.
The subtlest and trickiest arguments come where Marcion assumes that
differences between Jesus and the Old Testament are indicators of hostility
and discord, because Tertullian as a Christian is bound to agree with Marcion to the extent of thinking that the New Testament represents in some
way or other an advance on the Old. His solution is the phrase diversum
sednon contrarium (4.11): 'different yet not contrary'. Tertullian indeed
begins his whole work with the major concession to Marcion that there is a
significant difference between the Testaments: 'I do not deny a difference
in records of things spoken, in precepts for good behaviour, and in rules of
law'but, he goes on, 'provided that all these differences have reference
to one and the same God, that God by whom it is acknowledged that they
were ordained and also foretold' (4.1). 'Foretold' is essential; for Tertullian's concern is to show that where Jesus did introduce some difference to
the older dispensation it did not come as a surprise, or at least should not
have done to anyone who had really read the Old Testament, where there
is continual reference to the giving of fresh revelations of God's will.
(Thus Isa. 2.3, 'the law will go forth from Zion', is taken to refer to a new
law.)
Antithesis is built into Scripture, not a problem but a hermeneutical key,
says Tertullian: 'Why need you distort against the Creator those antitheses
in the evidences, which you can recognize also in his own thoughts and
affections? / will smite, he says, and I will heal, I will slay, he says, and
also make alive' (4.1, referring to Deut. 32.39 and Isa. 45.7). What Marcion
has done is to take a self-revelation by God which is already inherently
45
dialectical, and set up its two poles as the features of two different and
radically opposed religions. Thus Marcion's own religious beliefs have
hindered him from understanding the subtlety of the biblical witness and
led him to find contradiction where there is in fact complementarity. He
has (according to Tertullian) oversimplified the biblical material, merely
sorting it into two piles (stern and evil creator versus kind and good redeemer) and thereby failing to do justice to any of it. His interpretative
principles are allowed to dominate the material they are meant to be interpreting, reshaping it so that it communicates his own ideas.
IV
With this last point, however, we begin to see some of the difficulties Tertullian had got himself into, and perhaps some of the difficulties that are
inherent in metacommentarywhich is not to say that they are not worth
taking on.
One specific problem is that, in order to oppose Marcion's interpretation,
Tertullian is at times manoeuvred rather against his will into defending
more continuity between the old and the new dispensation than perhaps he
was really comfortable with. He finds himself arguing that what Jesus did
or said was really hardly new at all. In cleansing a leper, for example,
Jesus did nothing that Elisha had not done before him (4.9): there was
nothing remarkable about it. He commanded that people should keep the
law, when in this case he told the leper to go and make the statutory offering, so that even this Lukan Christ was in effect saying, 'I did not come to
destroy the law but to fulfil it'. Was Tertullian, the defender of the 'new
prophecy', really content with such a seamless join between the Testaments,
one might wonder? Or again, when Jesus said that the whole do not need a
physician, but only the sick (Lk. 5.31), was he really, as Tertullian argues
(4.11), expressing 'approval of Jews more than others.. .this was an assurance that those Jews, who he said had no need of a physician, were in good
health'. Was Tertullian fully happy with his own argument when he continued, 'If that is so, his coming down to destroy the law was ill-conceived, if
his purpose was the remedy of that ill-health, when those who were living
in the law were in good health, and had no need of a physician'? His antiMarcionite stress on the continuity of Jesus with the law here leads him
almost to say that Jesus' own teachings were unnecessary, and that is surely
further than he really wanted to go.
But this is perhaps a problem of all metacommentary, that it is hard for
the metacommentator to avoid leaning too far in the direction opposite
46
from the commentator being criticized. Certainly Tertullian sometimes

gets into difficulties through an overzealous rejection of Marcion's reading.
An additional, equal and opposite, problem is how to deal with matters on
which his own presuppositions and those of Marcion are in reality quite
close. We see this in the introductory discussion of sameness and difference between the old and new dispensations, where Tertullian is at pains
to point out that he is not saying there is no difference, rather that Marcion
has conceptualized it wrongly: 'I do admit that there was a different course
followed in the old dispensation (dispositione) under the Creator, from that
in the new dispensation under Christ' (4.1). To deny that, of course, would
in effect be to deny that there was any need for Christ to come at all, which
he cannot do. But in the process he has to make concessions to Marcion's
interpretation that he may similarly have been rather uncomfortable with,
arguing that the principle of antithesis is actually inherent in the order of
the world: 'the world is constructed out of the diversities of substances in
mutual hostility' (4.1). He goes on to claim that it is therefore not nearly
so interesting or important in the evaluation of the Gospel material as Marcion thinks: God's ordering of things is likewise 'consistently antithetic',
and consequently ought not to surprise one or lead one to argue in an exaggerated way that there are two gods, one for each pole of the antithesis.
But he seems uncomfortable, and this may be because he could see that
the recognition of such antitheses did plausibly lead in a Marcionite
direction.
In all this Tertullian of course operates with the presupposition that the
text has a 'plain sense' that ought to be clear to persons of good will. He
is not saying that Marcion's interpretation does not happen to suit him,
Tertullian, but that it is objectively mistaken. Marcion's system is wrongheaded, he believes, and that could be shown on general theological
groundsBooks 1-3 set out the arguments. But in Books 4 and 5 he is
trying to show that even the evidence of the Gospels and Epistles as recognized by Marcion himself witnesses against him, and he can do this only if
he can take it as given that these texts have discernible meanings on which
readers can be brought to agree. Part of his argument is therefore the unspoken principle that his own readings do not work only on his own ('orthodox') assumptions about the nature of Christ, but are publicly available to
the unbiased reader. He does not propose his own hermeneutical principles
as a precondition for finding in the texts the meaning he does find, but
simply appeals to what is 'obvious'. Marcion presumably did not find it
obvious at all, nor did the many who followed him; but the whole basis of
47
Tertullian's argumentation is that certain textual meanings are indeed plain

for all to see.
V
In conclusion it may be interesting to ask how far Tertullian's metacommentary is like or unlike the genre as established by David Clines. I return
to the three points teased out in Section I.
1. Tertullian certainly argues, as Clines does, that the commentary being
examined distorts the sense of the text on which it is commenting in the
interests of its own understanding of what was really going on in the life
and teaching of Jesus, while retaining as if authoritative much of the text
on which it and 'orthodox' interpreters agree. The Gospel of Luke, even in
its Marcionite version, does not (so Tertullian argues) support the notion
that there are two gods, and that the one revealed in Jesus has nothing to
do with the creator-god worshipped by the Jews and set forth in the Old
Testament. Marcion retains the wording of that Gospel, but fills it with
such a new meaning that it might just as well be a different text. This is certainly a similar objection to Marcion as Clines's objection to the commentators he metacommentates on. Clines dislikes it when commentators continue to exploit the prestige value and religious persuasiveness of the
wording of the Bible when in fact they are saying something very different
from what the text appears to be assertingfor example, continuing to
talk as though the Ten Commandments were 'received' from God when
what they really mean is that they were developed by human beings. In the
same way Tertullian complains that Marcion is benefiting from the fact
that he apparently affirms the words of a gospel at least substantially similar to that of the 'orthodox', when in fact he believes something entirely
different from what that Gospel affirms.
There is, however, one very significant difference. Clines does not argue
that the commentators he complains of falsify a meaning in the biblical
text which is publicly available and 'objective', but only that they interpret
it in the light of their own interests. The casual reader is likely to come
away with the impression that he is castigating them for actually falsifying
the 'real' meaning of the text while retaining its wording, but this is probably to misunderstand Clines, who does not believe in 'objective' meanings in textsat least, I think he doesn't. Nevertheless the style of argument is similar.
2. Marcion, according to Tertullian, fails to distinguish between expounding the textgiving its basic sense to the readerand telling us what he
48
himself believes. He does not expound the text's meaning neutrally, but
always tendentiously, and does not tell us what Luke says, but what is (in
his view) in fact the case about Jesusnamely, that he is the representative of a new god. Of course Tertullian does not really go in for neutral
exposition himself, but he thinks he is doing so, and certainly accuses
Marcion of failing in this respect. This is not unlike Clines's charge against
modern biblical commentators who slide from telling us what the text says
to telling us what is in fact the case. A major difference is that this seems to
concern Clines mainly when what they think is the case agrees with the
biblical text, whereas Tertullian worries when what Marcion tells his readers contradicts the text (as he understands it). But formally the position is
the same: the commentator has a theological position which he wants to get
across, and there is a point where, as Clines puts it in metacommentating
Hammershaimb, 'the scholarship stops and the religious assumptions begin'
(Clines 1995: 87). Marcion, according to Tertullian, was quite incapable of
distinguishing his own religious position from what Luke (in his version)
had said, even though to a 'detached' observer they were in fact very different. Tertullian, naturally, was not really detached at all; but then Clines
would not claim that he, as a metacommentator, is detached either, but is
keen to emphasize that he has 'interests' too. Tertullian, living before modern literary theory made writers more conscious of their own presuppositions, was far less aware of this. But what they say about the commentators
on whom they metacommentate is nevertheless not so very different.
3. Clines's third point is that commentators connive at the biblical texts
and do not criticize them as they should, and here I do not think there is
any parallel with what Tertullian accuses Marcion of. He, naturally, does
not think there is anything undesirable in the gospel that it would be wrong
to agree with, and he has no notion of the desirability of subjecting the
biblical texts to any kind of Sachkritik. On this there is an uncrossable gulf
between a metacommentator like Clines and any 'pre-critical' student of
the Bible, and my comparison here breaks down. An interesting point
made by Clines should, however, be brought in here. That is that critical
scholars of earlier generations often did engage in the kind of critique of
the biblical text that Clines thinks so desirable. As he mentions in a
footnote:
Some older commentators, especially when writing from an avowedly Christian perspective, did not feel the same degree of inhibition towards evaluation of their text [as do most more recent ones]... However unacceptable
today the theory of 'progressive revelation' may be, at least it enabled its
adherents to adopt a critical stance toward their texts (Clines 1995: 77-78).
49
In many ways 'critical' commentators seem to me, as to Clines, to have

become more rather than less 'reverent' since the late nineteenth and early
twentieth century. One could hardly accuse Wellhausen, for example, of
failing to criticize biblical textsthough the fact that he did so from a
liberal Protestant perspective may make his criticisms less than welcome
to some, and of course his persistent critique of the priestly strands in the
Old Testament as 'Jewish' in a pejorative sense raises further problems of
its own. A metacommentary on Wellhausen would need to make very
different points from Clines's metacommentary on late twentieth-century
scholarship.
There is a lot more to be said about metacommentaries both ancient and
modern, but perhaps this essay may help to underline how important a
genre this is, and how many subtle and complex issues it opens up. My
comments are offered to David Clines with great gratitude for the new
perspectives he has introduced in biblical studies in this and so many other
areas.
Bibliography
Clines, D.J.A.
1995
Interested Parties: The Ideology of Writers and Readers of the Hebrew Bible
(JSOTSup, 205; GCT, 1; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press).
Evans, E.
1972
Tertullian Adversus Marcionem (Oxford: Clarendon Press).
Hammershaimb, E.
1970
The Book of Amos: A Commentary (ET J. Sturdy; Oxford: Basil Blackwell).
Harnack, A. von
1924
Marcion: Das Evangelium vomfremden Gott (Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs).
THE UNITY OF THE BOOK OF ISAIAH:

ANOTHER ATTEMPT AT BRIDGING
THE GORGE BETWEEN ITS Two MAIN PARTS
Willem A.M. Beuken
The conviction that the book of Isaiah (BI) forms a unity has become
something of a confession among contemporary Isaiah scholars. It forces
us to reject the tripartite paradigm ascribed to Bernhard Duhm (1892) that
dominated research for the greatest part of the twentieth century. According to this hypothesis, BI consists of three parts that have been loosely
joined together to form an artificial whole. The core of the first part stems
from the period of the kingdom of Judah while the second part reflects the
end of the exile and the third the reconstruction of Jerusalem. In short, three
Isaiah documents are proposed with their roots in three different periods of
occupation: the Assyrian, the Babylonian and the Persian. This perspective
on BI has now been largely abandoned, at least with respect to the proposition that the three parts came into existence independently of one another.
A broad consensus holds sway that the three individual parts not only underwent a complex redactional process but that they have also been attuned to
one another in the course of an equally complex redactional process.
Any suggestion that the notion of three Isaianic authors has made way
for a single author is clearly an oversimplification. With the exception of
certain conservative perspectives, the unity of BI is not understood on the
basis of authorship. To what then does BI owe its unity? One is often left
with the impression that scholars hide behind the confession of a single
Isaiah in order to avoid the explanation thereof. The situation is in fact no
different than with that other confession: 'Hear, O Israel: YHWH is our
God, YHWH is one' (Deut. 6.4), a confession which implies a great deal
more than a simple pronunciation. It begins, according to the tradition,
with the clear articulation of the words. For example, one is expected to
pronounce separately the two lameds in the expression: 'You shall love
YHWH, your God, with all your heart (bekol-lebabkemy (Deut. R. 2.31).
Once the correct pronunciation has been taken care of, one is then obliged
BEUKEN The Unity of the Book of Isaiah
51
to pay serious attention to the content. The 'Hear, O Israel' implies not so
much that one rejects idolatrythe gods are not even mentionedrather
that one loves and serves the one God of Israel with one's entire self.
While I may be accused of irreverence in extending this comparison to the
present context, it remains a fact that the confession of a single Isaiah
implies more than the rejection of the notion of three individuals referred
to by the same name. We are ultimately obliged to articulate what we mean
thereby. Respect for BI compels us to do so.
In order to explain the unity of BI, scholars have made use of the variety
of exegetical methods developed since the 1970s. In the last ten years,
however, the focus of research has been on the redaction history of the text
(cf. the survey of Berges 1998:11-49). This methodological approach can
be divided into two primary models. The first and older model is often
styled the Vereinigungsthese, albeit in a thoroughly revised form. According to this thesis, the three parts of BI stem from one and the same setting
that over the centuries, and with the help of its own theological and literary
expertise, developed the message of Isaiah ben Amoz and thereby produced
new documents in the process. These new documents were then collected
into a single book together with the original collection of the prophecies of
Isaiah. The book as such underwent a variety of adaptations according to
the differing historical circumstances in which it found itself (Rendtorff
1984; Clements 1985).
In contrast to the first, the second model or Fortschreibungsthese argues
that certain large textual complexes never existed independently and that
they were designed from the beginning as the continuation and interpretation of older textual complexes. Scholars initially applied this model in
order to explain the growth process of Isaiah 40-55 and Isaiah 56-66 as
well as the relationship between the two, and later still the relationship
between Isaiah 40-55 and Isaiah 1-39.
It is striking that scholars endeavour to explain certain matters according
to both models, and not without success. Research into these questions
reveals that the two models of Vereinigung and Fortschreibung are insufficiently refined to claim the exclusive right to an explanation (Clements
1997; Feuerstein 1998). Both theories reveal their weakness explicitly
with respect to the explanation of the most significant breach found in BI:
the transition from ch. 39 to ch. 40. The Vereinigungsthese recognizes the
breach and considers earlier chapters, ch. 33 and chs. 34-35, as bridges
between Proto-Isaiah and Deutero-Isaiah (henceforth PI and DI). Such an
explanation is surprising in that it does not establish the bridge between
the end of PI and the beginning of DI but locates the connection at an
52
earlier stage. Chapters 36-39 are thus seen to form a sort of projection
floating above the breach. The Fortschreibungsthese considers ch. 39 to be
an interpolation replacing Assyria with Babylon as archenemy of Jerusalem
in preparation for the Babylon texts in DI. In the context ofFortschreibung,
however, it is strange that Isaiah does not announce the destruction of Jerusalem in 586 in this chapter but rather the plundering of Hezekiah's palace
and the deportation of his offspring in 597. We are thus left in a quandary
when we are forced to choose between these two theories. It is for this reason that what has become the Grand Canyon of BI clearly deserves another
look.
1. The Translation ofHezekiah 's Response (Isaiah 39.8)
The conclusion of ch. 39 raises a number of questions. The translation of
v. 8 most frequently employed in contemporary Bibles runs as follows:
'Then said Hezekiah to Isaiah: "The word of YHWH which you have spoken
is good." For he thought: "There will be peace and security in my days"'
(v. 8 RSV). This translation establishes opposition between the king's words
and his thoughts. The latter can be reduced more or less to the narcissistic
notion: apres nous le deluge. Such an opposition, however, remains open to
dispute. While it is possible, of course, to interpret "IQN'n as 'he thought', in
the present context, and without a change of speaker, one would expect the
customary idiom: 'he said in (to) his heart' (cf. Isa. 14.13; 47.8; 49.21; etc.).
The contemporary translation of this verse remains inadequate for several
other reasons.1 The authoritative translations of the modern period (M.
Luther, AV, Stv) do not tend to follow this line of thought. They adhere
rather to the ancient translations, which render Hezekiah's second statement in the form of a prayer: 'Let there be peace and faithfulness in my
days' (LXX, Vg, Tg). Once again, however, this is not the intention evident
in MT.2 An unbiased translation should read: 'Then said Hezekiah to Isaiah:
"The word of YHWH which you have spoken is good". He said: "Truly,
there will be peace and faithfulness in my days."'
1. It is difficult to derive the conjunction 'for' at the beginning of v. 8b from the
verb form ~)QK'1'1. Moreover, the conjunction ""D at the beginning of the second statement remains without translation.
2. Person (1999: 375-76) considers the LXX reading, in which Hezehiah utters a
prayer (yevEoGco), as prior to the MT reading, in which he makes a statement about the
future (ITrr ""D). His argument, however, is not text critical: 'The I(saiah)H(ebrew) and
I(saiah)Q(umran) reading does not fit the context for nowhere in the previous text has
Isaiah declared peace for Hezekiah' (376).
53
2. The Purport ofHezekiah 's Response in the Context of Isaiah 36-39

Hezekiah's reaction to the announcement of judgment is twofold (v. 8).
First, he accepts the sentence of YHWH delivered by Isaiah. Obedience to
the prophet forms an integral part of the image of this king (cf. Jer. 26.1819). As such, he re-assumes the exemplary role that he played in chs. 3638. In these chapters he accepted the prophet as God's emissary (37.2,21;
38.1,4) and continued to have faith in YHWH and in Jerusalem's ultimate
liberation in spite of the apparent invincibility of the Assyrian forces (37.15,
17, 20; 38.4, 10, 20). There also he praises God for saving him from his
deadly illness, in recognition of his sins and with a 'doxology of judgment'
(38.15-17). In the same way, he now accepts the announcement that his possessions and sons will be taken into captivity as something 'good'. Because
we are not told how Hezekiah could envisage the exile as something good,
his astonishing first remark thus provides the narrative with an open end.
This is even widened by his second remark (v. 8b).3 This has long been a
source of exegetical difficulty because of the repetition of the introductory
'he said' after the direct discourse of only one sentence and the absence of
a person addressed. These data, however, need not imply that the half verse
constitutes a side reflection, which the king conceals from the prophet. For
the phenomenon of 'resumptive "1QN within direct discourse' is frequent in
the Hebrew Bible and can have a variety of functions and antecedents
(Meier 1992:73-81). The second introduction may indicate that the following statement deals with a completely different topic, one which has a much
broader significance than the narrative context of the discussion with the
prophet allows.
The statement cannot imply that Hezekiah thus endeavoured to conceal
the forthcoming disaster from himself (cf. 2 Sam. 18.24-33). This is too
psychological an explanation for this part of BI. On the threshold of Isaiah
40-55 one would expect a statement in harmony with DI's view of the
exile, as is the case with the king's first statement.4 Just as little can the
3. From the text-critical perspective v. 8b appears to be a redactional interpolation
since the B-text of the LXX of the parallel text in 2 Kgs 20.19 has only the first half of
the verse (// Isa. 39.8a), while the Hexapla provides the second half (// Isa. 39.8b) with
an asterisk (Field 1875: 691; Konkel 1993: 477). Other differences which play a role
are: (1) LXX does not translate the second "O^l; (2) LXX and Vg employ the volitive
form here.
4. The history of the interpretation of this verse is a classic example of scholarly
bias (cf. the survey of Alexander 1976: II, 92). Echoes of Duhm's commentary, 'hides-
54
statement mean that what will happen later is of no concern to Hezekiah

(cf. 1 Kgs 21.29; 2 Kgs 22.20; Job 21.21; contrast in Jer. 31.15). Apathy
for the fate of one's progeny does not tally with the ancient Near Eastern
tradition that prosperous descendants keep a person's name alive (Pss.
112.1-3; 115.14; 128; Job 5.25-27).
It is against this background that we should interpret the second statement: 'Truly, there will be peace and faithfulness in my days'. In the first
instance it suggests a theo-political prognosis: in Hezekiah's days, in contrast to 'the days (that) are coming' (v. 6), there will be a trustworthy peace,
the words 'peace and faithfulness' (nDNl Dl *?C?) evidently forming a hendiadys (Th WA T, 1,334 [A. Jepsen]). The expression plays a role in the dispute
of the YHWH prophets with the shalom prophets who prophesied 'lies,
worthlessness and deceit' ("p2J... *T *?K.. .niQ"in) about Jerusalem's inviolability, as it comes to the fore in the book of Jeremiah (Jer. 14.13; 33.6;
McKane 1986: 324-28; cf. Est. 9.30).
In association with the narrative concerning Hezekiah's sickness and
recovery, however, a second interpretation is likewise evident. For in that
story 'peace' is the outcome of the king's bitter experiences (38.17) and
'faithfulness' the currency of exchange between Hezekiah and God (38.3,
18-19). Moreover, Hezekiah has placed the newly acquired extension of
his life under a specific mandate: 'The father makes known to the sons your
faithfulness' (38.19). These statements continue to resonate in 39.8. Even
after hearing that his offspring are to be deported to Babylon to serve at
the court there, the king bears witness to his expectation that YHWH will
go on to provide 'peace and faithfulness' as the horizon of his existence.5
Seen in this way, the king plays an exemplary role at the point of transition
between PI and DL He accepts the word of YHWH with regard to the future
of his house and pledges himself to the lessons which his sickness and
recovery have taught him.
sen uberschreitet diese Gottergebenheit und Zufriedenheit auf Kosten anderer und
sogar der eigenen Nachkommen das Mafi erlaubter Naivitat' (Duhm 1922:286), continue to resonate (cf. Oswalt 1986: 697; Watts 1987: 66; Motyer 1993: 297; otherwise
Penna 1958: 394).
5. The statement is commonly interpreted as referring to what Hezekiah expects
from YHWH but we cannot exclude that it also points to the programme of his government in subservience to YHWH (cf. the combination of TD with the imperfect of ilTI in
Exod. 3.12; 23.33; Judg. 6.16; 2 Sam. 18.3; 19.23; Isa. 1.30; Mai. 3.12, 21; 2 Chron.
12.8). It is then to 'peace and faithfulness' that he commits himself, in agreement with
his policy of reform, to which he refers himself (Isa. 38.3), and the memory of which is
preserved by the tradition (cf. 2 Kgs 18.4; Jer. 26.17-19; 2 Chron. 29-31).
55
3. Hezekiah 's Response against the Background of the Promise to David

Hezekiah's rehabilitation finds support if we read his response against the
background of YHWH's promise to David. Hezekiah's narrative contains
topics that are clearly at home in this context. Indeed, the primary text of the
promise, the prophecy of Nathan to David together with the king's prayer of
thanksgiving in 2 Samuel 7, exhibits significant kinship with Isa. 39.8.
a. 'The Days of David' vs. his Kingship 'for Ever'

In the first instance, the opening of the actual dynastic oracle is interesting
on account of the theme dealing with the fate of David's descendants after
'the days of David': 'When your days are fulfilled and you lie down with
your fathers, I will raise up your offspring after you, who shall come forth
from your body, and I will establish his kingdom' (2 Sam. 7.12; cf. 1 Chron.
17.11). The promise then follows that the throne of Solomon and David's
further offspring 'shall be established for ever' (v. 16). In his thanksgiving
prayer, David is silent concerning the commission to build a house for
YHWH. His primary theme is that kingship over Israel shall continue to
belong to his house ('for ever' occurs four times in w. 25-29, as it does
three times in w. 13-16). It is for this reason that Renaud concludes: 'La
perpetuite de la promesse traverse tout le chapitre. De plus, a la perspective d'un avenir illimite est liee 1'inconditionalite de la promesse... Quoi
qu'il arrive, celle-ci se realisera' (Renaud 1994: 50).
b. 'Faithfulness'
A second term from the oracle of Nathan that we also find in Hezekiah's
response is 'faithfulness'. The oracle concludes: 'Your house and your kingdom shall be made trustworthy (faithful) forever before me. Your throne
shall be established forever' (2 Sam. 7.16). This concept came to enjoy
some degree of significance in the Davidic tradition. Psalm 89, which builds
upon the Nathan oracle, speaks no less than seven times about God's
'faithfulness' with respect to David (v. 15: PQK; w. 6, 9, 25, 29, 34, 50:
HD1QN).6 1 and 2 Chronicles employ the term in places that do not have a
parallel in Samuel and Kings, both for God's position with respect to
David's offspring (1 Chron. 17.23-24; 2 Chron. 1.9; 6.17) and for Hezekiah's behaviour with respect to God (2 Chron. 31.20; 32.1).
6. With regard to the priority of 2 Sam. 7 vis-a-vis Ps. 89, cf. Schniedewind 1999:
30,41-43.
56
Besides the oracle of Nathan, the thanksgiving prayer of David that follows constitutes a striking parallel with Isa. 39.8, since the concepts 'faithfulness' and 'good' both occur together in it:
And now, O Lord YHWH, you are God, and your words are faithfulness and
you have promised this good thing to your servant. Now therefore may it
please you to bless the house of your servant, so that it may continue forever before you (2 Sam. 7.28-29; in 1 Chron. 17.26 the term 'faithfulness'
is lacking).7
c. 'Peace'
If one is able to acknowledge the suggestion that 2 Samuel 7 forms the
background to Hezekiah's remarks, then one is also at liberty to associate
the term 'peace' in the latter remark with texts related not to the prophecy
of Nathan but to the Solomon narrative. The first text concerns David's
charge to Solomon to build a temple, in which he refers to the name of his
son as established by YHWH: 'Behold, a son shall be born to you; he shall
be a man of peace. I will give him peace from all his enemies...' (1 Chron.
22.9). The second text is from Psalm 72, in which the ideology of the
Davidic kingship is elaborated with a view to his successor Solomon: 'In
his days may righteousness flourish, and peace abound, till the moon be no
more' (v. 7; cf. v. 3). The third concerns the remark whereby Solomon
justifies the execution of Joab (1 Kgs 2.33).
d. Conclusion
Against the background of the prophecy of Nathan and the texts that build
upon it, especially Psalm 89, Hezekiah's remarks clearly do not simply
constitute some form of coarse calculation, mixing religion and politics
together; they form rather a recognition on the part of Hezekiah that the
trajectories of God's promise to the house of David remain visible during
his own kingship. How this promise relates to the tragedy that will confront his own offspring is a question Hezekiah does not ask. Against the
background of the Davidic tradition, however, such silence is no light
matter. The first part of BI is thus open-ended. Does the second part provide an answer to this lack of closure?
7. The preceding argument does not take the redactional growth of 2 Sam. 7 into
account. With regard to this, opinions diverge widely. Recently there is a growing consensus that Nathan's oracle to David (w. 1 lb-17) and David's thanksgiving prayer
(w. 18-28) constitute an original unity, and also that in the oldest form of Nathan's
oracle, v. 12 and v. 16 are related to each other (Gorg 1975: 178-271; Jones 1990: 8283;Renaudl994).
57
4. Hezekiah 's Response as trait-d'union between Isaiah 1-39 and

Isaiah 40-66
Having established that the Davidic tradition constitutes the frame of reference of Hezekiah's remarks, it makes sense to examine whether the first
part of BI prepares us for 39.8 and whether the second part of BI builds
upon it. In any case, the terms 'peace' and 'faithfulness' do not occur as a
word pair again.
a. 'Peace' and 'Faithfulness' in Isaiah 1-39
In Isaiah 1-39 the terms 'peace' and 'faithfulness' function in texts that
build upon God's promise to David. The first of these is the announcement
of a 'Prince of Peace' on the throne of David, who shall substantiate his
name because God establishes his kingship on 'justice and righteousness'
(9.5-6). The assurance that 'Of peace there will be no end' (cf. further on:
'from this time and for evermore') may constitute the redactional point of
reference of Hezekiah's remark: 'There will be peace and faithfulness in
my days' (39.8). The second text stands in the same tradition and employs
the concept 'faithfulness' (16.4-5). While the promise to David acquires a
'messianic' perspective in these texts, Hezekiah announces in 39.8 that
'peace and faithfulness' shall in any event characterize his kingship. This
constitutes an overture to the definitive fulfilment of the promise.
b. 'Peace' and 'Faithfulness' in Isaiah 40-66
It should not come as much of a surprise that the terms 'peace' and 'faithfulness' in Isaiah 40-66 are attuned to their particular context and the situation of the exile. The fact that 'peace' plays a central role here is primarily
evident from the original concluding passage of DI: the coming of the messenger of peace who announces that YHWH has accepted kingship (52.7).
'Peace' in this context, however, is not related to the same concepts as in
39.8.
Scholars have already established a relationship between 39.8 and the
threefold redactional division of Isaiah 40-66 based on the colophons of
48.22 and 57.21: "There is no peace", says YHWH (my God), "for the
wicked'". As such, these structuring proverbs do not say very much. The
first, however, flows out of a promise of 'peace', as the fruit of 'righteousness', which expresses itself in countless offspring: 'O that you would
hearken to my commandments! Then your peace would be like a river, and
your righteousness like the waves of the sea. Your offspring would be like
58
the sand, and your descendants like its grains' (48.18-19). Although the
promise to the house of David does not constitute the specific framework
at this juncture, the association of righteousness, peace and offspring does
establish an inter-textual reference to the conclusion of Isaiah 39.8
Of primary importance, however, is ch. 54. Here, the future of Zion is
characterized by the promise: 'Your sons shall be taught by YHWH, and
great shall be the peace of your sons. In righteousness you shall be established' (w. 13-14; cf. v. 10). In texts referring to the promise to David, the
commission to maintain righteousness is coupled with the assurance that
YHWH will 'establish' his house and his throne (]ID; 2 Sam. 5.12; 7.12-13,
16,26 [cf. the parallels in IChron. 14.2 and 17]; 1 Kgs2.12,46; Isa. 9.6;
16.5; Ps. 89.3,5,38; 1 Chron. 22.10; 28.7). One is left with the impression
that Zion in 54.14 has entered the scene as the inheritor of YHWH'S promise to the house of David, which appeared to have been suspended in the
offspring of Hezekiah.
The other term, 'faithfulness', occurs in Isaiah 40-66 for the first time in
the so-called first song of the Servant: 'He will faithfully bring forth justice' or rather (LXX): 'He will bring forth justice so as to establish faithfulness' (42.3). It is generally accepted that this figure exhibits royal, Davidic
characteristics. The opening of this passage ('Behold, my servant', v. 1)
connectsbridging over the preceding chapter in which YHWH accepts
Israel as servant (41.8-9, 'but you, Israel, my servant... I have chosen you
and not cast you off)with the conclusion of the first Hezekiah narrative,
in which God promises the king deliverance 'for my own sake and for the
sake of my servant David' (37.35). The connection is established, at the
level of the redaction of BI, by means of the end of PI in 39.8. Hezekiah
clearly plays a connecting role at this juncture. 'We may credit Hezekiah
with the awareness that repentance could change this verdict, as his own
prayers and tears had reversed the prediction of imminent death' (Blenkinsopp 2000: 489, cf. 82-83, 90-91, 478; Blenkinsopp 1997: 160-66). This
son of David has accepted YHWH'S judgment. Therefore, although 'faithfulness' appeared to be limited to his days, the Servant of YHWH shall once
again establish 'faithfulness' in the course of his mission. In this way, one
is left with the suspicion that YHWH'S promise to David, according to DI, is
first realized on behalf of the servant Israel and then anew on behalf of Zion.
8. The second colophon, too, concludes a passage in which injustice and peace are
opposed (57.21; cf. w. 17-20).
59
5. From Isaiah 39.8 to Isaiah 55.3-5

What we have seen so far may suffice to convince us that the last verse of
Isaiah 1-39 has the promise to David as its background. Indeed, it is far
from strange that Hezekiah should allude to this promise. In the preceding
narratives, YHWH himself alludes to 'my servant David' when he announces
to the king that Jerusalem is to be redeemed (37.35), and even speaks of
himself as 'the God of your father David' when he promises Hezekiah that
he is to be healed of his fatal illness (38.5).
The crucial question remains, however: can one ascertain that the Davidic
tradition in 39.8 establishes a bridge with Isaiah 40-66, given the fact that
its role in these chapters is so minimal? The name 'David' occurs in these
chapters on only one occasion:
I will make with you an everlasting covenant, the faithful mercies for David.
Behold, I made him a witness to the peoples, a leader and commander for
the peoples. Behold, you shall call nations that you know not, and nations
that knew you not shall run to you, because of YHWH, your God, and of the
Holy One of Israel, for he has glorified you (55.3-5).
This passage is, nevertheless, of importance for our argument. Isa. 55.35 shares a number of terms and topics with 2 Samuel 7, Psalm 89 and Psalm
18, texts with which Isa. 39.8 also appears to enjoy a close relationship. Isa.
55.3-5 deviates from the Davidic tradition on one point, however: 'There
is no direct reference to.. .the distinctive substance of the promise of God
to David: that one of his sons would always sit on the throne to rule over
the nations' (Kaiser 1989: 93). The offspring of Hezekiah, who, according
to PI, are to be robbed of power and dignity and forced to serve the king of
Babylon (39.8), are completely absent from the image formed by DI of the
return of the exiles (55.1-13).9
While Hezekiah's and thus David's offspring may be absent, however,
the witness of David is not. Just as YHWH once established David as 'a
witness to the peoples', so now it would appear that Israel is being given a
similar mission (w. 4-5). The comparison builds further upon the image of
David in Psalm 18, presenting both a point of agreement and a point of
opposition. David enjoyed dominion over the nations and was thus capable
of bearing witness in that position to the God who provided him with protection (Ps. 18.44-51). While Israel, by contrast, has no role to play among
9. Fischer (2000) has demonstrated that vv. 1-3 refer to the passage through the
desert. In this way they depict the exodus as the background of ch. 55.
60
the nations, the glory it acquires by God's act of redemption (46.13; 52.1)
is sufficient to draw the nations into the recognition of YHWH (45.14,22;
49.22-23; 52.10; extensively Beuken 1974). In this way, 'the everlasting
covenant' that YHWH intends to conclude with Israel coincides with 'the
faithful mercies for David' (v. 3b: apposition).
Summary
With respect to 'the gorge' between Isaiah 1-39 and Isaiah 40-66, recent
theories on the redactional connections between both parts of BI clearly
have a right to exist. We should be on our guard, however, not to ignore
the fact that the conclusion of PI presents its readers with a question, the
answer to which can only be discovered in the following chapters of DI.
The problem of the unity of BI lies not only at the level of the text but also
at the level of its readers.
YHWH'S promise to David serves as the background to Isa. 39.8. Hezekiah confesses his belief that this promise will become a reality in his lifetime, although he remains silent on the problem raised by the announcement
of the deportation of his own offspring, namely, whether YHWH will remain
faithful to his promise that the house of David and his kingship will survive
forever. Isa. 42.1-7 adumbrates a new bearer of the promise to David: the
Servant. Isa. 55.3-5 provides this promise with a new content. The words
'house', 'kingship' and 'throne' are no longer found here, only 'covenant',
'mercies' and 'faithful'. Those in Israel who listen to YHWH constitute the
descendants of David. They are the children of Zion and the servants of
YHWH(54.13, 17).
Die Verheissungen an David werden neu relevant, wo die Gemeinschaft
selbst seine Aufgabe und Sendung in dem Sinn der durch den Gottesspruch
beglaubigten Auslegung wahrnimmt. In Neubestimmung und kollektivem
Verstandis entspricht dieser Ansatz in zusammengefasster Form dem, was
Dtjes zum 'Gottes-Knecht' entwickelt hat. Eine strittige Frage wird hier
durch ein Gottes-Votum entschieden (Baltzer 1999: 598).10
Can the same be said for the unity of the book of Isaiah?11
10. 'The promises to David acquire fresh relevance where the community recognizes its task and mission as explained to them in this divine oracle. In its succinct
form, this new collective interpretation corresponds with what DI has developed in the
concept of the Servant of YHWH. The question at issue [are the promises to David still
valid?] is thus decided by a pledge of YHWH himself.'
11. For the research underlying articles such as this, scholars are greatly assisted
61
Bibliography
Commentaries on the Book of Isaiah or Parts of It
Alexander, J.A.
1976
Commentary on the Prophecies of Isaiah I-II (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan,
7th edn [two volumes in one; originally 1846 and 1847]).
Baltzer, K.
1999
Deutero-Jesaja (KAT, X/2; Giitersloh: Gutersloher Verlagshaus).
Blenkinsopp, J.
2000
Isaiah 1-39: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB,
19; New York: Doubleday).
Duhm, B.
1922
Das Buck Jesaia (HAT, III/1; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 4th edn
[1892]).
Motyer, J.A.
1993
The Prophecy of Isaiah: A n Introduction and Commentary (Downers Grove,
IL: InterVarsity Press).
Oswalt, J.N.
1986
The Book of Isaiah: Chapters 1-39 (NICOT; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans).
Penna, A.
1958
Isaia (La Sacra Bibbia; Turin: Marietti).
Watts, J.D.W.
1987
Isaiah 34-66 (WBC, 25; Waco, TX: Word Books).
Miscellaneous
Berges, U.
1998
Das Buch Jesaja: Komposition und Endgestalt (HBS, 16; Freiburg: Herder).
Beuken, W.A.M.
1974
'Isaiah 55.3-5: The Reinterpretation of David', Bydragen 35: 49-64.
Blenkinsopp, J.
1997
'The Servant and the Servants in Isaiah and the Formation of the Book', in
C.C. Broyles and C.A. Evans (eds.), Writing and Reading the Scroll of
Isaiah: Studies of an Interpretive Tradition, I-II (VTSup, 70/1-2; Leiden:
E.J. Brill): 155-75.
Clements, R.E.
1985
'Beyond Tradition-History: Deutero-Isaianic Development of First Isaiah's
Themes', JSOT31: 95-113.
1997
'Zion as Symbol and Political Reality: A Central Isaianic Quest', in J. van
Ruiten and M. Vervenne (eds.), Studies in the Book of Isaiah: Festschrift
WillemA.M. Beuken (BETL, 132; Leuven: Peelers): 3-18.
nowadays by David Clines's Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. For this major work, the
first volume of his commentary on Job and for many other stimulating studies I would
like to express my gratitude. Dr Brian Doyle, Assistant Professor at the Faculty of
Theology, Catholic University of Leuven, has provided the translation of this article.
62
Feuerstein, R.
1998
Field, F.
1875
Fischer, I.
2000
Gorg, M.
1975

'Weshalb gibt es "Deuterojesaja"?', in F. Diedrich and B. Willmes (eds.),
Ich bewirke das Heil und erschaffe das Unheil (Jesaja 45,7): Studien zur
Botschaft der Propheten. Festschriftfur Lothar Ruppertzum 65. Geburtstag
(FzB, 88; Wiirzburg: Echter Verlag): 93-134.
Origenis Hexaplorum Fragmenta I (Oxford: Clarendon Press).
'Der Schriftausleger als Marktschreier: Jes 55,1-3 und seine innerbiblische
Bezuge', in R.G. Kratz, Th. Kriiger and K. Schmid (eds.), Schriftauslegung
in der Schrift: Festschrift fur Odil Hannes Steck zu seinem 65. Geburtstag
(BZAW, 300; Berlin: W. de Gruyter): 153-62.
Gott-Konig-Reden in Israel und Agypten (BWANT, 105; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer).
Jones, G.H.
1990
The Nathan Narratives (JSOTSup, 80; Sheffield: JSOT Press).
Kaiser, Jr., W.C.
1989
'The Unfailing Kindnesses Promised to David: Isaiah 55.3 \JSOT45:91-98.
Konkel, A.H.
1993
'The Sources of the Story of Hezekiah in the Book of Isaiah', F743:462-82.
McKane, W.
1986
A Critical andExegetical Commentary on Jeremiah, I (ICC; Edinburgh: T.
& T. Clark).
Meier, S.A.
199SpeakSpeakingofSpeaking:MarkingDirectDiscourseintheHebrewB of Speaking: Marking Direct Discourse in the Hebrew Bible
(VTSup, 46; Leiden: E.J. Brill).
Person, Jr., R.F.
1999
'II Kings 18-20 and Isaiah 36-39: A Text Critical Case Study in the
Redaction History of the Book of Isaiah', ZA W111: 373-79.
Renaud, B.
1994
'La prophetic de Natan: theologies en conflit', RB 101: 5-61.
Rendtorff, R.
1984
'Zur Komposition des Jesajabuches', FT34: 295-320.
Schniedewind, W.M.
1999
Society and the Promise to David: The Reception History of 2 Samuel 7.1-17
(New York: Oxford University Press).
THE ONE IN THE MIDDLE

Joseph Blenkinsopp
The Text
As for those who consecrate and purify themselves (to enter) the gardens,
following the one in the middle, who partake of swine's flesh, unclean
things, and rodents; their deeds and their devices will together come to an
end. A declaration of YHWH (Isa. 66.17).1
This description of this (from the author's perspective) deviant cultic

celebration appears to be contextually isolated, as one of several addenda
or appendices to the book of Isaiah. Following on the imminent, fiery
judgment immediately preceding (66.15-16), it could have served to make
the point that the practitioners of garden cults condemned in 65.1-7 are
included among those subject to this judgment. At any rate, 65.1-7 and
66.17 have enough in common to permit the conclusion that they derive
from the same source. The other reference in Isaiah to garden cults occurs
at the beginning of the book (1.29), in a passage generally regarded as forming an inclusion with part or all of the last chapter (1.27-31). Both these
passages may therefore be of help in understanding the nature of the ritual
obliquely referred to in 66.17.
An immediate and formidable obstacle is the enigmatic phrase 'following
the one in the middle' ('ahar 'ahadbattawek). The text-critical situation can
be summarized as follows. Kethiv 'ehad, masculine, has the support of
Theodotion according to Jerome (alterpost alterum). Peshitta also prefers
a male hierophant (had batar had), and is the source of NEB'S intriguing
1. Textual notes: 'to enter': the verb is supplied; 'unclean things': retaining MT
seqes over the objections of Duhm (1922: 486) et al. who emend to seres, a generic
term for small insects, as in Lev. 5.2 and 11.10; seqes (IQIsa8 siqqtis} refers to any
object that renders ritually unclean (Lev. 7.21; 11.10-13; Ezek. 8.10); 'Their deeds and
their devices' (ma '"sehem umahsebotehem) is transferred from 66.18 where it is unintelligible, cf. 'ahar mahsebotehem in the similar passage 65.2b-5a.
64
'one after another in a magic ring'. But qere 'ahat, feminine, is supported
by more than 30 Hebrew MSS in addition to both Qumran Isaiah scrolls
and, almost certainly, the Vulgate.2 As is often the case in LXX Isaiah, a
difficult text is rendered very freely: 'They that sanctify and purify themselves for the gardens, and eat swine's flesh and their abominations and
mice in the forecourts (en tois prothurois) shall together be consumed,
says the LORD'. Since 'in the forecourts' cannot easily be construed as a
translation of anything in 66.17, it seems that the translator was influenced
by Ezekiel 8 where the reprehensible cult practices revealed to the prophet
during his supernaturally guided tour of the temple are represented as taking
place in the forecourts of the sanctuary (epi tonprothuron tesphules, Ezek.
8.7 LXX; also w. 3, 14, 16).
The Targum seems to have read 'ahat, feminine, since it substitutes a
feminine noun for this word: They who assemble and purify themselves
for your gardens of the idols, one company after another (si 'a' batar si 'ay,
and similar readings prevailed in the Jewish exegetical tradition (Ibn Ezra,
Saadia Gaon, Yefet ben Eli, et #/.). We can therefore in good conscience
break the uncertainty over kethib/qere, which, according to Barthelemy,
deadlocked his text-critical committee, and opt for the feminine (Barthelemy 1986: 462; see also Seeligmann 1948: 74).
It was no doubt inevitable that this strange expression would set off a
flurry of emendations, especially in view of daleth/resh confusion. Emerton
(1980: 21-25) lists some of these and himself offers a revised form of an
ingenious proposal by D. Winton Thomas, to the effect that these three
words resulted from vertical dittography with the previous line. An equally
ingenious suggestion is that of C.C. Torrey according to whom the original
text read 'ehad 'ahar 'chad, to which was appended a marginal note, 'ahar
battawek, meaning 'the word in the middle is 'ahar\ which marginal note
then found its way back into the text (Torrey 1928: 474). But MT makes
good sense and should be retained.
The Preparation
Like the other closely related denunciations of 'pagan' cult practices in
Isaiah 56-66 (57.3-13; 65.1-12; 66.3-4), 66.17 is not concerned to provide
information about these rituals or, much less, give the reader a fair and
2. In lQIsab only the final fl[ ] appears. Vulgate post ianuam intrinsecus, 'behind
the door inside', probably results from a corruption of post unam, 'after one' (fern.), as
in the San Girolamo edition.
BLENKINSOPP The One in the Middle
65
objective evaluation of them. Read critically, however, these texts can

provide some credible evidence about religious practice in Judah during
the Neo-Babylonian and early Persian periods.3
The preparation for taking part in ceremonies in the garden is stated
only in the most general terms, with reference to participants who are
consecrating and purifying themselves (hammitqaddesim, hammittaharfm),
activities that are not clearly distinguishable. We can nevertheless make
some progress in understanding by looking at comparable situations in that
particular culture and elsewhere. We know that all significant cult acts
required a preliminary sacralization of place, time and officiants. One
essential feature of this process is the absolute prohibition of encroaching
on the temenos in the pre-initiation phase. Instructions prior to the Sinai
theophany prescribe that 'You must set limits for the people all around.
Take care not to go up the mountain or touch its confines; anyone who
touches the mountain must be put to death' (Exod. 19.12). Both the encroacher, deliberate or inadvertent, and in due course the initiate are 'sanctified', become meqaddes or mitqaddes, taboo, untouchable, by contact with
the cult enclosure (Exod. 19.13). This will help to explain the point made
by the initiate in Isa. 65.5: 'Do not come near me, for I have been "sanctified" with respect to you'. Forbidden contact may also project some light
on the woman's reply to the snake in the garden of Eden, to the effect that
she and the man were forbidden under pain of death not only to eat but
also to touch the sacred tree (Gen 3.4: Id' tigge'u bo; cf. Exod. 19.13: Id'
tigga' bo). This prohibition was normal practice just about everywhere. In
the Eleusinian mysteries, for example, any uninitiated person passing beyond the door into the telesterion was subject to the death penalty (Burkert
1977:429).
In the Sinai episode, the consecration consisted in the (male) participants washing their clothes and abstaining from sexual activity (Exod.
19.14-15). Washing or changing clothes (Gen. 35.2; Lev. 14.8-9; Num.
8.21) and bathing the body (Lev. 14.8; cf. Ps. 51.4) were common features
of purification rites. Since body fluids induce ritual pollution, sexual abstention was also practically de rigueur, and was often accompanied by
3. Several exegetes of note have dated these cult allusions to the Hellenistic
period (especially Volz 1932: 200, 280-81, 292; Vermeylen 1978: 515; Steck 1991:
38-40,229-30,273-74). But there is nothing exclusively or even distinctively Hellenistic about any of these cults, including those addressed to Gad and Meni (65.11), and
much that resembles practice in late monarchic Judah, abundantly documented in Jeremiah, Ezekiel and the Deuteronomistic History.
66
fasting. Other activities attested in biblical texts are shaving body hair
(Lev. 14.8-9; Num. 8.7), sprinkling with water or blood (Lev. 14.7; Num.
8.7) and sacrificing (Num. 8.8; 1 Sam. 16.5). Candidates for muesis at
Eleusis first bathed in the sea, fasted and underwent a purification ceremony
seated on a stool covered with a fleece and with their heads shrouded. We
do not hear of sexual abstention at this stage, but the hierophant, and probably all the cult officials, were expected to abstain during the mysteries
(Clinton 1974: 45-46, 116).
The Location
The garden (gannd here and Isa. 1.29-30; 65.3) as cult site calls for some
explanation. As Ibn Ezra noted, this is not a vegetable garden but a grove,
orchard or park (paradeisos in LXX of Gen. 2.8; Qoh. 2.5; Cant. 4.13).
Garden symbolism evokes plenitude and abundant life, and its primary
associations are with running water (Num. 24.6; Isa. 58.11; Jer. 31.12;
Cant. 4.12,15) and of course trees, among which we hear frequent mention
of cedar, palm, and fruit-bearing trees (Num. 24.6; Isa. 1.29-30; Jer. 29.5,
28; etc.). In the Neo-Assyrian version ofGilgamesh (5.1), the cedar mountain of Lebanon is called 'the abode of the gods', recalling Ezekiel's 'cedars
in the garden of God' (Ezek. 31.8-9) and 'the streams flowing from Lebanon' in the garden of the beloved in Cant. 4.15.
Palace gardens or groves created by monarchs to impress visitors and
enhance royal status, such as the splendid gardens of Sennacherib and
Ashurbanipal, are attested from Near Eastern inscriptions and iconography.
An Assyrian prince had a dream in which he saw the shade of a predecessor receiving permission from Ashur to rebuild the akitu house 'in the
garden of abundance, the image of Lebanon' (Lipinski 1973: 358-59). A
particularly interesting example is the 'Court of Palms', a lush palace garden represented in a wall painting from the palace of Zimri-Lim at Mari
(Wiseman 1983: 137-44; 1984: 37-43; Stordalen 2000: 94-102; Stager
2000:36-47,66). Gardens provided an appropriate setting for ritual activity,
and especially for the ritual celebration of the union of male and female deities. Enki impregnated Ninhursag and several of her female linear descendants in Dilmun, place of 'the waters of abundance', at one time a candidate for the real garden of Eden. During the Neo-Assyrian period, the final
act of the akitu festival took place outside the city in 'the Garden of Abundance' (kirinuhsi).The most fully documented case is the erotic encounter
between the god Nabu and the goddess Tasmetu which began in the ritual
67
bedchamber (bit ersi) and ended on the eleventh day of the festival in the
garden (kiru). In recent studies of this ritual and the hymns associated with
it, Martti Nissinen has drawn attention to parallels, some practically verbatim, with the 'garden of love' theme in the biblical Canticle (Nissinen
1998: 585-634; 2001:93-135). While the dramatis personae in the Canticle
are clearly human, the ritual undertones are unmistakable.
A garden is often represented as the abode of the deity, or at least the
place frequented by the deity. Depending on the date one assigns to it,4 the
paradigmatic garden of Eden myth in Genesis 2-3 may be read as taking
over and developing in imaginative narrative form the topos of 'the garden
of YHWH/Elohim', an expression which begins to appear with some frequency only in the Neo-Babylonian period (Isa. 51.3; Ezek. 28.13; 31.8-9;
36.35; Joel 2.3). In Genesis 2-3 the garden is called 'eden (as in Isa. 51.3;
Ezek. 28.13; 31.9), organ 'eden, organ be'eden. 'Eden' is no less a symbolic place name than 'the land of Nod' ('eres nod) to which Cain was
banished (Gen. 4.16; cf. Cain as the na' wanad, the wanderer, in 4.14). In
Northwest Semitic, including Ugaritic (Millard 1984; Fensham 1989: 8790), the stem 'dn denotes pleasure, luxury, abundance. It also denotes sexual pleasure, a point worth making in view of the erotic aspects of garden
cults referred to above. On being promised a child in old age, Sarah muses
whether sexual pleasure ('ednd) can still be in her future (Gen. 18.12), and
an erotic connotation is also probably intended in the allusion to the Woman
Babylon as <adind, 'pleasure loving', in view of other references in this
poem (Isa. 47.8).
Returning to our text: a garden is an appropriate place for such rituals
since it is the place where one can experience the deity's numinous and
beneficent power. Since the gardens in the Isaian texts (1.29; 65.3; 66.17)
are therefore shrines, it would be of interest to know what relation, if any,
exists between these gannot and the cult installations known as bamot,
'high places', that were an important feature of religious life in Israel and
Judah. Sacrificing and burning incense took place at both, and at least some
bamot were associated with tree cults (1 Kgs 14.23; 2 Kgs 16.4; 17.10).
The fact that gan, gannd refers to a cult installation only in Isaiah, while
Isaiah (the book) never refers to Israelite or Judaean bamot,5 permits the
4. On Gen. 2-3 as a Second Temple, post-Priestly composition see Blenkinsopp
1992: 63-67; and 1995.
5. Isa. 36.7 is copied from 2 Kgs 18.22. In Isa. 15.2 the Moabite bamot are linked
with habbayit, the temple, and in 16.12 with a miqdas, sanctuary; cf. the bmt and the bt
bmt in the Mesha stele (lines 3, 27), though bt bmt may have evolved into a place
68
suggestion that gannd is the specifically Isaian designation for what is

elsewhere called a bamd.
It is tempting, but probably mistaken, to find another instance of garden
cults in Isa. 17.10-11, where the Judaean people, personified as a female
individual, are encouraged ironically to plant their 'pleasant shoots' or
'shoots of Adonis' (nif'e na'amamm). The allusion is to the 'gardens of
Adonis' mentioned by Plato (Phaedrus 276), Lucian (De Syria Dea 6-9)
and other ancient authors. The cult of the originally Phoenician deity Adonis
(also Naaman, the Pleasant God) was certainly known in Judah under the
monarchy, but the gardens in question were flower pots in which seeds
were planted and left to wither after eight days, presumably to symbolize
the life of the young god cut short by a fatal encounter with a wild boar
(de Vaux 1933:31-56 [= 1970:210-37]; Delcor 1978:371-94; Blenkinsopp
2000: 305-306). These 'gardens' therefore belong to a different category
from the gardens alluded to in Isa. 66.11.
The Ceremony
Our attempt to understand something about the rites performed in the
garden must take account of the character of the source material in this and
related passages in Isaiah. In this kind of polemic we can expect deliberate
misrepresentation, but, in order to be effective, polemic cannot afford to be
wildly inaccurate. We can therefore test for plausibility by comparing what
is said here with other kinds of source material from antiquity dealing with
similar situations.
Isa. 66.17 mentions only food, presumably sacrificial food, but we have
seen that this text forms an inclusion of sorts with 65.1-7, which likewise
deals with initiation and taboo foods including pork. Isa. 57.3-13, a vitriolic
piece of diatribe directed against the sorceress and her offspring (i.e. Jerusalem and Judaeans), is also close enough to be relevant, and commentators
have noted the close relation between Isa. 1.29, which speaks of garden
cults, and these polemical passages in the last two chapters of the book. In
addition to a sacrifice and meal, incense (Isa. 65.3, 7; Ezek. 8.11) and
libations (Isa. 57.6) seem to have played an important role. Both are mentioned, with explicit reference to the cult of Asherah, in one of the few
passages in the Bible where the voice of women is heard on the subject of
religious practice (Jer. 44.15-19).
name, Beth-Bamoth. On the bet bamot, see Barrick 1996: 621-42; Gleis 1997: 63-68.
69
Pork, a taboo food in the ritual laws (Lev. 11.7; Deut. 14.8), is sacrificial
material in these garden rituals (Isa. 65.4b; 66.3b; 66.17). The pig was
acceptable for sacrifice in ancient Greece, for example in the Eleusinian
initiation ritual,6 and there are indications of its associations with chthonic
cults and the underworld in the Thesmophoria festival of women in honour
of Demeter (Burkert 1977: 365-66). The pig was sacrificed in many other
regions of the Levant and the Near East (de Vaux 1958: 250-65 [= 1971:
252-69]; Stendebach 1974:263-71; Ackerman 1992:202-12). The mouse
or jerboa (Hebrew 'akbar), another taboo species in Israel (Lev. 11.29),
seems to have had a religious significance of some kind for the Philistines
(1 Sam. 6.1-18) and, to judge by personal names, for Phoenicians, Edomites, and some Judaeans (Gen. 36.38-39; 2 Kgs 22.12,14; Jer. 26.22; see
Robertson Smith 1972 [1889]: 222,293). The other miscellaneous unclean
foods referred to in our text as seqes/siqqus correspond to the equally
unspecific peraq piggulim ('broth of unclean things') of Isa. 65.4.
It does not seem likely that these items were on the menu precisely
because prohibited by the ritual law. There are indeed indications that, both
before and after the fall of Jerusalem, cults were carried out in deliberate
defiance of Yahwistic orthodoxy. We hear of participants sticking out their
tongues at YHWH (Isa. 57.4), provoking him to his face (65.3), and insulting him during their ceremonies (65.7). According to one reading of Ezek.
8.17, the twenty-five sun-worshippers in the Jerusalem temple perpetrated
a gross insult by turning their backs on the sanctuary and breaking wind
(Eichrodt 1970: 128; Zimmerli 1979: 244-45). But defiance of orthodoxy
was surely not the main point in having recourse to deities other than YHWH
and practices other than those prescribed by YHWH'S priests and prophets.
The participants would not have gone through a perhaps lengthy and expensive initiation process just to have a non-kosher meal. We should therefore
look further afield.
One aspect of these garden cults, explicit in Isa. 57.3-13 and 65.1-7, is
their mortuary character. We hear of kings, including at least two Judaean
kings, who were buried in gardens (2 Kgs 21.18, 26), and we recall that
Jesus was buried in a garden tomb (en to kepo, Jn 19.21). Isa. 66.17 does
not allude to this aspect, but the linked passage 65.1-7 speaks in the same
breath of sacrificing in gardens and carrying out incubation rituals in tombs.
The emphasis on necromancy is even stronger in 57.3-13. The sorceress is
a devotee of the chthonic deity Molech and seeks contact with the under-
6.
As depicted on the Lovatelli urn; see Burkert 1987: 55, 94.
70
world (v. 9). Her children find their consolation in communing with the
shades of the dead (hannehamim ba'elim, v. 5a), and she herself makes
libations and offerings to the 'dead of the valley' (halfqe nahal, v. 6a) and
the 'gathered ones' (qibbusim, v. 13a).7
Evocation of and solidarity with those 'gathered to the ancestors' fulfilled
a powerful and deeply rooted need in ancient and some modern societies.
An example from Mesopotamia is the kispum ritual carried out in the royal
garden (Schmidt 1994:27-46). The cult of Demeter, mentioned earlier, had
a strong mortuary character, and the Bacchic thiasoi, whose custom was to
spend the night in tombs, are reminiscent of those Judaeans who 'squat
among the tombs and pass the night among the rocks' (Isa. 65.4a) (Burkert
1987:23, 143 n. 60).
Strangely enough, communing with the dead and offering cult to them
seems to have a certain connaturality with erotic activity. The association is
particularly in evidence in Isa. 57.3-13, where the sorceress is condemned
for both sexual transgression and participation in mortuary and chthonic
cults.8 A slightly veiled reference to a sexual act (fellatio), for which MT
may represent a censored version, appears in the IQIsa3 version of 65.3a,
reading wynqwydym 'l-h 'bnym for MT umeqatfrim 'al-halfbenim, in the
context of mortuary cults in gardens. The association is in any case well
documented for the ancient Near East and the Levant, conspicuously in the
marzeah cult festival which it will not be necessary to document.
The Hierophant
We now come to the question how, on the basis of this brief and uncooperative notice, we are to view the identity and role of the hierophant. The
answer will, of course, depend in good part on how we understand the
ritual in which she plays the leading role. Commentators have trawled many
waters in search of analogues. Volz (1932:292) proposed the Dervish tawaf
1. The translation of v. 5a is supported by LXX, Syr., Vulg. and Targum. Like Ugaritic ilm and Akkadian Hani, 'elim/'elohim can stand for deified ancestors to whom cult
is offered (Num. 25.1-12; cf. Ps. 106.28; 1 Sam. 28.13; Isa. 8.19-20; perhaps 2 Sam.
12.16). Seelrwin 1967: 31-40; Lewis 1989: 151-52.
8. See the previous note. The linkage is expressed by means of the ambiguity in
the semantic range oftniskab: 'bed', 'grave' (57.7a, 8b; cf. 57.2; 2 Chron. 16.14), 'sexual act' (57.8c). Isa. 57.3-13 has several other examples of sexual double entendre, includmgyad(8c),zikkardn/zakar(8a; cf. Ezek. 16.17), derek(\0a; cf. Amos 8.14; Prov.
31.3; Jer. 3.13).
71
with the muhaddam or sheik in the centre, suggested by his own observation
of a Dervish circumambulation ceremony at Izmir. Even further removed
was comparison with the sacred dance of a Gnostic sect, holding hands in a
circle with Jesus in the middle, as reported in the apocryphal Acts of John
(Marti 1900: 411-12). Several of the older generation of Isaian scholars
(Lowth 1833:404; Dillmann 1890: 539) identified 'the one in the middle'
as a representative and devotee of the Syrian god Adad, known according
to Macrobius (Saturnalia 1.23) as 'ahad, 'the One', while others (e.g.
Cheyne 1882:125-26) opted for an initiate of the cult of Tammuz-Adonis.
This last was no doubt influenced by the third of the tableaux vivants in
the temple shown to Ezekiel, in which women are engaged in ritual
lamentation for this deity (Ezek. 8.14-15). The scene preceding this one
(Ezek. 8.7-13) revealed seventy elders with the hierophant Yaazanyahu
ben Shaphan at their centre ('omed betokani) making an incense offering
to cult figures depicted on the walls of the sacred enclosure.9 This is often
taken to provide the closest parallel to the situation described in Isa. 66.17,
but of course loses something in relevance if the hierophant of 66.17 is
female.
The view adopted here is that the hierophant was a female, a representative of a female deity, and that she presided over the ceremonies in the
garden rather than just guiding the cult followers through the initiation
process. The initiates were not following her in a procession, since it is
impossible to be at the head of a procession and in the middle at the same
time. She played the central role in the entire ceremony and occupied the
central location in the garden ritual. Isa. 66.17 speaks of a meal, which no
doubt implied sacrifice, while the closely related text 65.1 -7 adds the burning of incense, incubation rituals in tombs and night vigils among the
rocks. None of this is explicit in 66.17 but none of it would have been
exceptional.
We find a clue to the identity of the hierophant in Isa. 1.29, which links
gardens as cult enclosures with sacred trees ('elim, usually translated 'terebinths', singular 'eld, 1.30a, which also means 'goddess'). This points unmistakably to the high Canaanite-Israelite goddess Asherah, whose cult
was intimately associated with sacred trees and who was represented
iconically as a tree, perhaps a stylized tree, but in any case one that could
9. In Ezek. 8.10 tabnit rentes ubehemd, absent in LXX, is probably a gloss, but I do
not follow Ackerman's argument (1992: 69-71) that seqes implies that a decidedly
non-kosher meal was in progress. In the Levitical laws, this term is generic, referring to
any source of ritual uncleanness (e.g. Lev. 7.21; 11.10), whether edible or not.
72
be cut down and burned (Exod. 34.13; Deut. 7.5; 12.3; Judg. 6.25-26; 2 Kgs
18.4; 23.14-15; 2 Chron. 14.2). Garden symbolism requires that a sacred
tree, a 'tree of life', occupy the central position in it. The sacred tree called
the >aserd was associated with sacrifice (Deut. 16.21; Jer. 17.2; 2 Chron.
34.4, 7), incense altars (hammanim, Isa. 17.8; 27.9; 2 Chron. 34.4),
chthonic cults (2 Kgs 16.4 = 2 Chron. 28.4), and cults of an erotic nature
(1 Kgs 14.23; Jer. 2.20; 3.6, 13). The >aserd also occupied a prominent
position in or on the 'high places'. The stock phrase 'under every tree in
leaf (tahat kol- 'es ra >anari) occurs fairly often to designate a place where
the great goddess was worshipped (Deut. 12.2; 1 Kgs 14.23; 2 Kgs 17.10;
Jer. 17.2), and in this connection there are also allusions to secret ceremonies (2 Kgs 17.10; cf. Ezek. 8.12).
For the increasing number of commentators who assign a late date to the
so-called Yahwist writer, the question will sooner or later arise whether
Genesis 2-3 can be construed, at some stage of its literary history, as
directed against Judaean garden cults in honour of the high goddess, cults
of the kind referred to obliquely in Isa. 66.17. The question calls for a more
thorough discussion than is possible here, but some lines of enquiry may
be briefly mentioned. We could think of Eden as a garden shrine10 and 'the
tree of life in the middle of the garden' ('es hahayyim betok haggan, Gen.
2.9) as the iconic replica of Asherah who, according to the author, holds
out the promise of life but delivers death.1' The woman Hawa, mother of
all the living (3.20) as the Canaanite-Hebrew Asherah was mother of all
the gods, would be the human counterpart of the goddess, her hierophant
and cultic intermediary. In view of the sacramental meal in the garden
shrine, her leading the initiates to the goddess would be appropriately symbolized in the act of eating. There is therefore a kind of symbolic superimposition of goddess, tree and hierophant. The sexual constituent of the garden cults is also clearly represented, and the snake would embody the
chthonic aspect of these cults vividly in evidence in Isa. 57.3-13.12 The
10. Several scholars have worked this angle on the garden of Eden narrative,
including Andrae 1952: 485-94; Hvidberg 1960: 285-94; Wyatt 1981: 11-21.
11. Speculations about the Eden story in relation to late Judaean cultic practice are
documented in Stordalen 2000: 310-12. Wyatt 1981:10-21 and Wallace 1985:101-72
are especially relevant to the point under discussion.
12. In assigning a role to the Snake (nahas), the author no doubt has in mind the
homophonous verbal stem nhs, practise divination, often linked with necromancy and
the Asherah cult (Lev. 19.26-28; Deut. 18.10-11; 2 Kgs 17.16-17; 21.6-7). Cf. the
'onend (sorceress) and her children in Isa. 57.3-13.
73
Eden narrative would then join those other texts, Deuteronomistic and
prophetic, which fought against, and eventually silenced, the religious practice into which Isa. 66.17 provides an obscure but intriguing glimpse.
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'The Canaanite Background of Gen i-iii', VT10: 285-94.
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1967 ' "The Smooth Stones of the Wadi"? Isaiah 56,7', CBQ 29: 31-40.
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1989 Cults of the Dead in Ancient Israel and Ugarit (HSM, 39; Atlanta: Scholars
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1973 'Garden of Abundance, Image of Lebanon', ZAW85: 358-59.
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Isaiah: A New Translation with a Preliminary Dissertation and Notes (London: T.T. & J. Tegg).
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Studien zum Alten Testament undzum Alien Orient. Festschrift fur Oswald
Loretz zur Vollendung seines 70. Lebensjahres (Minister: Ugarit-Verlag):
585-634.
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'Akkadian Rituals and Poetry of Divine Love', in R.M. Whiting (ed.),
Mythology and Mythologies (Helsinki: Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project):
93-135.
Robertson Smith, William
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The Religion of the Semites: The Fundamental Institutions (New York:
Schocken Books [1889]).
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Seeligmann, I.L.
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The Septuagint Version of Isaiah: A Discussion of its Problems (Leiden: E. J.
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'Das Schweineopfer im Alten Orient', BZ 18: 263-71.

Stordalen, T.
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Echoes of Eden: Genesis 2-3 and Symbolism of the Eden Garden in Biblical
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The Second Isaiah: A New Interpretation (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark).
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' Sur quelques rapports entre Adonis et Osiris', RB 42: 31 -56 [= The Bible and
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'Les sacrifices des pores en Palestine et dans 1'ancien orient', in J. Hempel
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Jesaia, II (KAT, 9; Leipzig: Deichert).
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The Eden Narrative (HSM, 32; Atlanta: Scholars Press).
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'Mesopotamian Gardens', Anatolian Studies 33: 137-44.
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'Palace and Temple Gardens in the Ancient Near East', Bulletin of the
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'Interpreting the Creation and Fall Story in Genesis 2-3', ZAW93: 10-21.
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Ezekiel I: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel Chapters 1-24
(Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress Press).
THEME REVISITED: BREAD AGAIN!

Walter Brueggemann
This paper returns to one of David Clines's early but still illuminating
publications, The Theme of the Pentateuch (1978). It seeks to make a modest suggestion on a particular textual interface, and then to ponder the
ways in which consensus horizons and categories (paradigms) govern our
research. It is a delight to offer the paper in thanks and appreciation to
Professor Clines, who is a primal force in the dramatic change of horizons
in our generation of scholarship.
I
The course of critical study of the Pentateuch has of course developed in
the twentieth century in ways that could not have been anticipated at the
beginning of the century. In order to situate Clines's contribution we may
identify four aspects of the course of that critical study.
1. It is commonplace to observe that the Documentary Hypothesis commanded the field well into the century, a hypothesis that pertains, in its full
statement, both to the literary formation of the text and to the course of the
religious history of Israel that is reflected in the several literary sources. It
appears that at the end of the century one may safely say three things
about the hypothesis. First, it is clear at best that the hypothesis concerns
only literary development and is no reliable guide to religious history, for
the notion of such evolutionary development in linear fashion is seen to be
unconvincing. Second it is clear, in more recent work clustered around Rolf
Rendtorff(1990)andJohnVanSeters(1975,1992,1994), that the hypothesis no longer claims the field and is likely to be abandoned. But third, given
that emergent opinion in the last two decades, it seems evident as well that
the power of the hypothesis persists, so that, except for a rare scholar, the
hypothesis still largely sets the shape and limits of critical conversation. It
is an attestation to the force of the hypothesis (not unlike that of Sigmund
BRUEGGEMANN Theme Revisited
77
Mowinckel on the hypothesis of a 'New Year's Festival') that in its rejection it continues to be influential. It is important to notice that in his Theme
Clines had already moved well beyond the notion of sources.
2. The major break in the source theory was accomplished by Gerhard
von Rad in his durable essay, in 1938, 'The Form-Critical Problem of the
Hexateuch' (1966a), though it was only in retrospect that the major break
would be seen. In his analysis of themes recurring in different 'credo'
recitals, von Rad decisively shifted attention away from sources, for it could
be seen that the several themes recurred across every source analysis. Von
Rad's proposals came to be termed 'tradition history', which, in fact, was
no longer interested in sources (Knight 1975). That accent was programmatically reenforced by Martin Noth's attention to 'themes', even though
Noth (1972) continued to treat the themes with reference to their place in
the sources.
3. It was not recognized by von Rad or Nothor by others generally
that the newly articulated approach of'history of tradition' was in deep tension with the older source analysis. It remained for a later generation of
scholars, especially Rolf Rendtorff (1990) and H.H. Schmid (1976), to signal the ambiguity of von Rad's so-called 'Yahwist', and to take the daring
step away from sources. The positive proposal of Rendtorffre-enforced
by Erhard Blum and now thoroughly reviewed by Norman Whybray (1987),
Damian Wynn-Williams (1997) and Ernest Nicholson (1998)has focused
on textual clusters, 'large units', with a disregard for sources. It is to be
noticed that while Rendtorff intends to be doing something very different
from von Rad in his interest in tracing the formation of a 'larger unit' from
its smallest elements, that 'larger unit' in the end is not unlike the 'themes'
of von Rad and Noth. And of course it is obvious in the debate about the
Priestly material that these newer approaches cannot have done without
source analysis, even if they intend something else.
4. It strikes me as highly ironic that Norman Whybray (1987), in his characteristically meticulous study, has come something of full circle to propose, in the conclusion of his book of 1987, that the Pentateuch has a single
author (Whybray 1987: 222), and that 'the first edition may be the final
edition' (Whybray 1987: 232-33). Whybray of course is in no way naive
about the formation of the text and intends to be making only a historicalcritical judgment that the Pentateuch is created as a programmatic foundation for emerging Judaism in the Persian period after the deportation. As a
foundational document, it no doubt derives from and serves the narrow
ideological interests of a particular segment of the Jewish community.
78
Given the critical awareness that Whybray had fully mastered, I find irony
in the thought that 'single authorship' sounds strangely, mutatis mutandis,
like old-fashioned 'Mosaic authorship', against which critical scholarship
has always set itself. Of course the mutatis mutandis is so huge that Whybray would not have feared any suggested parallel between the two notions.
II
It is in the ferment of the questioning of the regnant hypothesis that Clines's
little book is to be understood (Clines 1978). In it, Clines boldly refused
questions of sources. He deliberately set himself against the 'atomism' and
'geneticism' that dominated the field, to treat 'the Pentateuch as a single
literary work' (Clines 1978: 11). Beyond that he took care to make clear
that his use of'theme' as a 'dominant idea' of the whole is not the same as
the use of the term 'theme' by Noth, for Noth allows for a series of'themes'
and does not reflect upon their coherence into a single dominant idea
(Clines 1978: 17-21).
Clines, of course, proposed that the 'dominant idea' of the Pentateuch is
the 'promise to the patriarchs' which works itself throughout the material
of the Pentateuch, characteristically around a tension between the force
and substance of the promise and the frequent questioning about the efficaciousness and reliability of the promise (Clines 1978: 48-49). The importance and daring of Clines's proposal at the time can hardly be overstated,
for while there was among scholars (a) a movement away from sources,
(b) a recognition of several themes identified by von Rad and explicated
by Noth, and (c) a suggestion of independent 'larger units', the notion of
continuity with one dominant idea was not on the horizon of critical study.
Clines's proposal, moreover, might easily have been taken at the time as a
departure from critical procedures.
In this quick reread of Clines's work, I want to notice three other matters. First, it is important to recognize that Clines, as always, was primarily
concerned for methodological issues that I suspect interested him more
than the substantive unity of the Pentateuch. The methodological issue he
faced concerning atomism and geneticism now seems far away indeed.
But it is now far away precisely because of work like that of Clines and
others who followed him.
Second, his phrasing of the 'final form' of the text is a phrase that has
become a mantra in the important work of Brevard Childs, so that it is fair
to consider Clines's proposal in relation to what has become Childs's
79
'canon criticism' (Clines 1978: 10). It is important, moreover, that in the

preface to his book Clines cites Childs as a reader of the manuscript to
whom he is indebted. There is no doubt that in the 1970s and in the general 'recovery' from critical fragmentation, attention to literary coherence
of 'final form' and theological attention to canon were twinned, as John
Barton (1996) has nicely noticed. And indeed, Clines's theme of promise
is one rich with theological freight, as he notices in his generous citation
of Jiirgen Moltmann:
A few pages of Jiirgen Moltmann's Theology of Hope.. .say almost all that
needs to be said by way of analysis of the concept of promise. I propose to
do little more than take up some of his points and apply them to the
Pentateuchal theme (Clines 1978: 111).
I suspect that two things are true of the 'final form' approach of Clines. On
the one hand, he would not at all want to be connected to Childs's ongoing development of 'canonical perspectives' that has come to mean
reading according to the church's 'Rule of Faith'. But at the same time, on
the other hand, it seems likely that focus on a larger theme commits interpretation to some theological accent, even if Clines would not want to invest
such theological accent with the force of ecclesial authority that is important
to Childs. In any case, Clines's resistance to atomism and geneticism is a
concern shared by Childs in his initial movement toward 'canon'.
Third, for his daring proposal of unity, it is clear nonetheless that Clines
worked, as he inescapably would, well within the confines of the scholarship of that day. Specifically he recognizes that to locate the 'theme' in the
patriarchs and particularly in Gen. 12.1-3 poses problems for handling
Genesis 1-11, material that he takes as a 'prefatory' theme (Clines 1978:
61). Indeed he acknowledges:
The theme of the Pentateuch from Genesis 12 onwards is made quite explicit,
though to discern the overall theme of the Pentateuch requires a little subtlety
(Clines 1978: 20).
And nowhere is subtlety more required than in the treatment of Genesis

1-11.
In fact, Clines follows closely the resolution of von Rad (1966b) and
Hans Walter Wolff (1966), who, like Clines and before him, had relegated
the materials of Genesis 1-11 to a marginal place in the unity of the text.
Those materials 'derive from a totally different sphere of culture and
religion' (von Rad 1966a: 64). Given that judgment, the relationship of
Genesis 1-11 to the ancestral narrative poses a problem that von Rad
80
resolved with a clue from Karl Budde. Von Rad proposed that Gen. 12.13, which sets the patriarchal promises in motion, is devised as the key to
Genesis 1-11 (von Rad 1966b: 65-68), so that Abraham and his family
become a source of blessing to the nations heretofore under curse:
In this melding together the early history of the world and the history of
redemption, the J writer submits his account of the memory and purpose of
the redemptive relationship which Yahweh had vouchsafed to Israel. He
provided the aitiology of all Israelite aitiology (von Rad 1966b: 65-66).
It is this insight of von Rad that became the clue to the important article
of Wolff in 1966. Wolff subjects Gen. 12.1-3 to a careful and detailed
analysis and then concludes that the blessing of Abraham is the antidote to
the history of curse in Genesis 1-11:
Our text is the key word on the transition from the history of humanity to
the history of Israel... The so-called primal history explains in advance why
all the families of the earth need the blessing (Wolff 1966: 145).
Wolff's analysis advances the clue of von Rad by carrying through a survey of 'blessing texts' and by suggesting a tenth-century monarchical context for J's work. But the key point is the same.
In his attempt to relate Genesis 1-11 to the 'theme', Clines's work is informed exactly by this perspective. I wish to identify in Clines's treatment
five phrases that are important to my following comments: (1) following
von Rad, Clines found in Genesis 1-11. a characteristic and recurring sequence of 'Sin-Speech-Mitigation-Punishment' (Clines 1978:61); (2) following von Rad, Clines observes the tension in 'the spread of sin, spread
of grace' (Clines 1978: 64); (3) following von Rad, Clines identifies the
patriarchs as a 'mitigation' that seeks to counteract the sorry story of
creation and curse (Clines 1978: 78-79); (4) Clines observes that the 'generations' of long life are an announcement that 'grace much more abounds'
(Clines 1978: 68); (5) Clines allows that the over-arching pattern of these
chapters is 'creation-uncreation-recreation' (Clines 1978: 73).
For what follows I want to observe that in the exposition of this unit of
text, Clines is largely informed and limited by the horizon of von Rad and
Wolff, which in itself was enormously imaginative. But it is correct to observe that all of the interpretive energy that pivoted on Gen. 12.1-3 was
derived from and congruent with the judgment von Rad (1966) had already
made in 1936 that creation was a marginal theme in the Old Testament
that is completely subordinated to 'historical themes' that cluster around
Moses. (I have suggested [Brueggemann 1996] that in addition to a mes-
81
merization with 'history', the particular reason for von Rad's enormously
influential judgment was the German Church Struggle in the 1930s with
the inchoate 'fertility religion' of National Socialism.) The complete focus
upon 'historical-redemption' traditions dominated the field. In his Theme,
Clines accepted the scholarly interpretive playing field as he found it. That
is, he used the going grid of texts in order to advance his methodological
interest which has since that time largely prevailed.
But I also notice that in characterizing this material, Clines formulated a
theme, albeit 'prefatory', for Genesis 1-11: creation-uncreation-recreation.
In fact, he did almost nothing with his own rich suggestion. It is promptly
dropped in his discussion as he moves on to his main point. From this I
draw two observations. First, that while Clines operated with the given
assumptions of the day, he was at the same time, characteristically, pushing beyond them to another horizon. Second, by settling for a pattern that
von Rad had laid out, he did not in fact deal with 'the final form of the
text' which is decisively framed by creation texts. Rather he settled for a
critical judgment that is not able, given the patterns formulated in the German Church Struggle, to escape those accents for the sake of the 'final
forms'. I do not at all fault Clines on this count, but simply take the opportunity to observe how our best interpretive effortsthen, now and always
are highly contextual.
Ill
The major shift in theological study of the Pentateuchwhich when done

responsibly is never distant from historical-critical developmentsis the
recovery of the motif of creation as a major impetus for the shaping of the
text. That is, 'the final form of the text', as Clines phrases it and as Childs
takes it canonically, is not remote from Whybray's judgment that 'the first
edition may be the final edition' (Whybray 1987:232-33). Taken either as
canonical 'final form' or as historical-critical 'final edition', the opening
affirmations of Genesis 1 concerning creation cannot be ignored in an
attempt to see the text whole.
The reason for von Rad's decisive subordination of creation in his articles of 1936 and 1938 is clear and indisputable and led Clines, among
others, to treat Genesis 1-11 as a 'prefatory theme'. Scholarship, however,
has shifted decisively. In addition to my own survey of that shift, attention
should be paid to the theological reflection of Patrick D. Miller (1995).
Miller's interest in this essay is theological and not critical; he insists that
82
creation and covenant are themes that are dialectically related to each
other. For that reason one cannot, as von Rad held, either subordinate creation or make it a prefatory concern. Miller observes the ways in which
covenant has one-sidedly dominated scholarship through the twentieth
century. He then reports on the recovery of creation in recent scholarship
with particular reference to H.H. Schmid (1984), Rolf Rendtorff (1990),
Jon Levenson (1988) and Terence Fretheim (1991 a and b). While he does
not go as far as Schmid (1984) in making creation the 'broad horizon' of
biblical theology, Rendtorff is of interest because he self-consciously takes
a canonical approach with reference to the 'final form'. Specifically, Rendtorffand Miller after himaccent the Noachic covenant as the pivot
point of theological reference:
The Noachic covenant legitimates God's structures of creation for humankind, precisely those that belong to the natural world's capacity to sustain
the matrix of history. The covenantal benefit, however, includes nature itself
and not just humankind ['all flesh'].. .the natural environment is secured in
covenant with human and natural creation. The covenant with Noah restores
and secures the creation for the benefit of the creatures, animal and human.
Human treatment of the natural world, therefore, is a matter not only of the
attitude toward the creation, but also how humankind receives the promise,
which it shares with the animal world (Miller 1995: 165).
By suggesting that the Noachic covenant may be the defining text for
the 'securing and restoration' of creation, the role of Israel is more fully
subordinated to the agenda of world restoration. While the older model of
von Rad and Wolff (followed by Clines) saw Israel as a blessing and an
antidote to the curse of the world, in this reading the juxtaposition of world/
Israel or nations/Israel is given a very different nuance, suggesting that the
'theme' of the Pentateuch is primarily creation-uncreation-recreation, as
Clines suggested but then disregarded in his accent on the ancestral promise. Thus it is important to revisit Theme because the accent on creation is
a way of organizing and reading that matches the contemporary interpretive
context at the turn of the century, even as the 'curse/blessing' motif served
an earlier context. I need not say that this interpretive model of creationuncreation-recreation is 'better' than 'curse/blessing', but only that it is
different and invites a very different sense of the whole of the text.
As we drawfinallynearer to the text, the work of Terence Fretheim
merits special attention. His remarkable work on the Exodus tradition led
him to this conclusion:
83
God's work in creation pro vides the basic categories and interpretive clues
for what happens in redemption and related divine activity. It is the creator
God who redeems Israel from Egypt.. .what God does in redemption is in
the service of these endangered divine goals in and for creation (Fretheim
1991a: 13).
Fretheim's closer work that leads to the conclusion that the Exodus
tradition voices creation theology is a study of the plague narrative of
Exodus 7-11 (Fretheim 1991b). Fretheim (1991b: 385) notices the rhetoric
of creation's fruitfiilness in the narrative and judges that Pharaoh is presented as 'an embodiment of the forces of chaos, threatening a turn of the
entire cosmos to its precreation state'. The disruptive, deathly power of
Pharaoh disturbs God's intention for creation, and turns creation into a
dysfunctional, anti-life imperial system. YHWH'S 'recreational activity'
(Fretheim 1991b: 395) defeats the power of chaos and permits creation to
resume is course of abundance. Thus Fretheim opens the way to explicate
Clines's alternative or 'prefatory' theme of creation-uncreation-recreation.
IV
My modest suggestion to support such a changed notion of 'theme' is to

reflect on the seam between the 'larger unit' of the Exodus tradition (Exod.
1-15) and the 'larger unit' of the wilderness tradition (Exod. 16-18), or,
more specifically, the interface of Exod. 15.1-21 and Exod. 16.1-36. (My
point includes 15.22-27 and 17.1-7, but for purposes of clarity I will not
dwell on these texts.) The importance of this seam has been hinted at by
Fretheim, but not explicated in detail.
In the critical work on the Pentateuch of the last several generations,
very little attention has been given to the sojourn tradition (Coats 1968;
Burden 1994). Von Rad (1962: 280-89) treats the sojourn tradition as a
collection of local traditions and notices (a) that it is an old element in the
recital of faith, (b) can be celebrative of a positive relation of God and
Israel (as in Jer. 2.2-3) or (c) a quite negative one (as in Ezek. 20; Ps. 106).
Von Rad does not, however, relate the tradition to larger theological issues.
Noth concludes that 'it is also obvious that this is not a very important or
really independent theme' (1972: 58-59, 115), but serves to bridge the
geographical gap (1972: 206). Clines follows by judging it to be 'transitional material' that sustains the tension of the promise and questions
about the promise (1978: 48-49).
The shift in scholarly emphasis now permits us to suggest that the Song
of Miriam (Exod. 15.21) and the Song of Moses (15.1-18), culminating in
84
the doxological celebration of YHWH'S kingship (15.18), constitute a glad

acknowledgment that the forces of chaos have been defeated, the
disruption of creation is voided, and YHWH as the creator-king is again
fully in charge, ready and able to enact again the well-being and abundance of YHWH'S created order. It follows, then, that the gift of water
(15.22-25; 17.1-7) and bread and meat (16.1-19) are the full gifts of
creation again possible, available, and visible. (It is to be noticed that nothing here alludes to the ancestral promises.) The doxological claim, filled
out by narrative detail, is fully congruent with Israel's hymnic celebration
of creation:
These all look to you
to give them their food in due season;
when you give it to them, they gather it up;
when you open your hand, they are filled with good things (Ps. 104.27-28).
The eyes of all look to you,
and you give them their food in due season.
You open your hand
and satisfy the desire of every living thing (Ps. 145.15-16).
The accent on 'all', the full comprehensiveness of all creation and all creatures, in these exclamations is congruent with the terminology of'all flesh'
noticed by Miller in the flood story (1995: 48) and the 'all' of the Exodus
narrativenoted by Fretheim as 'over fifty times' (Fretheim 1991b: 386).
The 'all' of nourishment, food and sustenance by the creator God is
celebrated doxologically and narrated with specificity in Israel.
We may notice six particular items in the sojourn narrative that contrast
the liveliness of the wilderness with the deathliness of Egypt and attest
that wilderness is a place of life because it is governed by the creator God
who had defeated the powers of death:
1. The giving of water (15.22-27; 17.1-7) counters the polluted water of
the Nile (7.20-25) and perhaps alludes to the rivers of Gen. 2.10-14 (on
which see also Ezek. 47.1-12).
2. The protection of obedient Israel from the 'diseases of Egypt' (Exod.
15.26; see Deut. 7.15; 28.60) means that the 'healer' brings the venue of
Israel (the wilderness) back to its proper state of well-being after the distortions wrought by Pharaoh. (Notice the 'healing' of water in 2 Kgs 2.1922 for a parallel act.) While scholars have used immense energy seeking to
give a medical identity to the 'diseases', in context it is enough to see that
85
they pertain to the deathly power of chaos that distorts and immobilizes
the full functioning of creation.
3. The gift of bread is indeed the gesture of the one who 'gives seed to
the sower and bread to the eater' (Isa. 55.10). The free, wondrous inexplicable bread that cannot be stored or hoarded (and need not be because
the creator is endlessly abundant) is in contrast to the bread of Egypt
(bread of affliction) that is always hoarded, limited and costly. Already in
Gen. 47.15,17,19, we observe the bargaining for bread and hear the vulnerable complaint of the needy in the face of the imperial bread monopoly,
yet another text dominated by 'all' (see vv. 14,15,17,18,20). The bread
that dazzles Israel in the wilderness is quite in contrast to Pharaoh's power
that used bread as a weapon and that refused to sustain, because chaos can
never give life.
4. Three times the manna narrative uses the word pair 'eat, fill' in order
to characterize deep satiation. The first use in v. 3 is ironic, for it alludes to
Egypt. The latter two uses (vv. 8,12) are an enactment of abundance that
is in deep contrast to the memory and reality of Egypt. The word pair,
moreover, is used in Deut. 6.11 and 8.10,12 to characterize the good and
generous land finally under YHWH'S governance, the land that concretely
embodies and enacts the will of the creator for a life of well-being. The
claim is that wilderness becomes fully fruitful creation because the lord of
all presides over it.
5. The phrase 'You shall know I am YHWH' permeates the Exodus
narrative, as Walther Zimmerli (1982: 42) has seen. The phrase recurs in
16.6,12 (see Deut. 4.32; 7.6, 8,9; 29.4) (Zimmerli 1982: 43-44), indicating that the enactment of creative power in the wilderness is a mighty
exercise of sovereignty that is commensurate with the mighty act of Exodus, the one to defeat chaos and its resistance to the rule of YHWH, the
other to enact concretely the rule of creation's abundance.
6. The culmination of the bread narrative in sabbath (16.22-34) of
course makes more sense if it is seen as a counterpoint to Gen. 2.2-3. The
creator is 'finished' when the power of chaos (see 1.2) is defeated and
abundance becomes the normal order of the day. In Exodus 16, sabbath
becomes the appropriate act because in Exodus 1-15 the powers of death
had reasserted a claim, a claim once again completely defeated. In the
sabbath celebration of Exod. 16.22-34, creation is yet again peaceably at
rest, brimming with abundance yet again. Thus the narrative of Exodus 115 is in fact bracketed so that the sequence of creation-uncreation-recreation is given us as Genesis 1-2Exod. 1.1-15.21Exod. 15.22-16.36.
86
Given our earlier reference to Genesis 47, it may be possible to suggest

that the middle term of dysfunction ('uncreation') is not limited to Pharaoh's appearance in Exodus 1-15 but already operates in Genesis 47. If
that is a possible reading, then we may see that a reading of the 'final
form' cannot be contained by reading one of the 'themes' of von Rad and
Noth at a time, for the theological accents of the single theme of the
Pentateuch move across the 'large units' of the tradition. Specifically our
analysis suggests that the point of the sequence will be missed if Noth's
triad of guidance out of Egypt, guidance into the arable land, and guidance
in the wilderness are kept discrete and distinct (Noth 1972:47-59). Clines's
instinct about a single theme is surely correct. It may be possible, however,
to work primarily with his suggestion of creation-uncreation-recreation
that already anticipated moving beyond the 'history' besotted accents of
mid-century interpretation.
V
I take the liberty of adding a comment on the curious placement of Mk

6.52 in the Gospel narrative, a comment suggested to me by the foregoing
analysis (see Quesnell 1969; Young 1999: 146-50). The narrative of Mk
6.30-51 consists in two distinct narrative episodes, the feeding of the five
thousand (vv. 30-44) and the stilling of the storm (vv. 47-51 introduced by
vv. 45-46). Verse 52 is placed as an addendum to the second narrative.
Because it concerns 'the loaves', it appears to be connected to the first narrative of w. 30-44 and not to the second with which it is placed.
My consideration of the juxtaposition of Exodus 15 (with the victory of
YHWH at the sea) and Exodus 16 (on the bread) suggests an explanation of
the placement of v. 52. The narrative on the stilling of the storm concerns
Jesus' defeat of the sea and the stilling of the powers of chaos, an act that
replicates the defeat of chaos in Exodus 14-15 that leads to the reenthronement of YHWH in 15.18. The feeding of the five thousand is not only
a narrative report on a 'wonder' enacted by Jesus, but, like Exodus 16, the
narrative asserts that the abundance and generosity of creation in the production of food are again operative. Thus the exhibit of creation's bounty
and the defeat of chaos are placed back to back in Mark 6, as in Exodus 116, only with the order reversed. It is the defeat of chaos that permits creation to function fully and freely again and thus produce ample bread.
Mk 6.52, in such a sequence, expected the disciples as witnesses to
'understand' that chaos has been defeated (w. 47-51) and therefore 'loaves
87
abound' (vv. 30-44). The disciples, however, characteristically missed the

point and did not understand about the restoration of creation. The reason
that they were unable to understand is particularly telling: 'their hearts
were hardened'. While the theme of hard hearts recurs in the Gospels (see
3.5; 8.17, and with sklerokardia in 10.5; 16.14), the phrasing is surely
calculated to allude to the old memory of the denning power of Pharaoh,
the embodiment of chaos. The disciples are inured in a chaotic world where
nothing is possible or available but the 'bread of affliction'. So powerful is
the force of Pharaoh's defining power that it is impossible for them to notice
the renovation of creation, impossible to 'understand' bread that is given
outside the sphere of Pharaoh's parsimonious governance. The response of
the disciples, in their failure to appreciate the narrative offer of a restored,
generous creation, is not unlike Israel in the wilderness where the reestablished power of the creator is not yet appreciated:
The Israelites said to them, 'If only we had died by the hand of the Lord in
the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread, for
you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly
with hunger' (Exod. 16.3).
A shift of interpretive images, in Mark as in the Moses narrative, suggests and permits a different sense of the text, a different problematic, and a
different sort of resolution. In the shifted pattern of interpretation, the dominant theme of creation subsumes the so-called 'historical traditions'.
Bibliography
Barton, J.
1996 Reading the Old Testament: Method in Biblical Study (London: Darton, Longman & Todd).
Blum, E.
1984
Die Komposition der Vatergeschichte (WMANT, 57; Neukirchen-Vluyn:
Neukirchener Verlag).
1990
Studien zur Komposition des Pentateuchs (BZAW, 189; Berlin: W. de
Gruyter).
Brueggemann, W.
1996
'The Loss and Recovery of Creation in Old Testament Theology', Theology
Today 53: 177-90.
Burden, T.L.
1994
The Kerygma of the Wilderness Tradition in the Hebrew Bible (New York:
Peter Lang).
Clines, D.J.A.
1978
The Theme of the Pentateuch (JSOTSup, 10; Sheffield: JSOT Press).
88
Coats, G.W.
1968
Fretheim, T.E.
199la
1991b
Knight, D.A.
1975
Levenson, J.D.
1988
Miller, P.D.
1995
Nicholson, E.
1998
Noth, M.
1972
Quesnell, Q.
1969
Rad, G. von
1962
1966a
1966b
Rendtorff, R.
1990
Schmid, H.H.
1976
1984
Van Seters, J.
1975
1992
1994
Rebellion in the Wilderness: The Murmuring Motif in the Wilderness Traditions of the Old Testament (Nashville: Abingdon Press).
Exodus (Interpretation; Louisville: John Knox Press).
'The Plagues as Ecological Signs of Historical Disaster', JBL 110: 385-96.
Rediscovering the Traditions of Israel: The Development of the TraditioHistorical Research of the Old Testament, with Special Consideration of
Scandinavian Contributions (SBLDS, 9; Missoula: Scholars Press).
Creation and the Persistence of Evil: The Jewish Doctrine of Divine
Omnipotence (San Francisco: Harper & Row).
'Creation and Covenant', in S.J. Kraftchick, C.D. Myers, Jr and B.C. Ollenburger (eds.), Biblical Theology: Problems and Perspectives in Honor ofJ.
Christiaan Beker (Nashville: Abingdon Press): 155-68.
The Pentateuch in the Twentieth Century: The Legacy of Julius Wellhausen
(Oxford: Oxford University Press).
A History of Pentateuchal Traditions (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall).
The Mind of Mark: Interpretation and Method through the Exegesis of Mark
6.52 (AnBib, 38; Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute).
Old Testament Theology, I (2 vols.; San Francisco: Harper & Brothers).
'The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch', in The Problem of the Hexateuch and Other Essays (New York: McGraw-Hill [1938]): 1-78.
'The Theological Problem of the Old Testament Doctrine of Creation', in
The Problem of the Hexateuch and Other Essays (New York: McGraw-Hill
[1938]): 131-43.
The Problem of the Process of Transmission in the Pentateuch (JSOTSup,
89; Sheffield: JSOT Press).
Der sogenannte Jahwist: Beobachtungen und Fragen zur Pentateuchforschung (Zurich: Theologischer Verlag).
'Creation, Righteousness, and Salvation: Creation Theology as the Broad
Horizon of Biblical Theology', in B.W. Anderson (ed.), Creation in the Old
Testament (Philadelphia: Fortress Press): 102-17.
Abraham in History and Tradition (New Haven: Yale University Press).
Prologue to History: The Yahwist as Historian in Genesis (Louisville, KY:
Westminster/John Knox Press).
The Life of Moses: The Yahwist as Historian in Exodus-Numbers (Louisville,
KY: Westminster/John Knox Press).

Whybray, N.
1987
89
The Making of the Pentateuch: A Methodological Study (JSOTSup, 53;

Wolff, H.W.
1966
'The Kerygma of the Yahwist', Interpretation 20: 131-58.
Wynn-Williams, D.J.
1997
The State of the Pentateuch: A Comparison of the Approaches ofM. Noth
andE. Blum (BZAW, 249; Berlin: W. de Gruyter).
Young, G.W.
1999
Subversive Symmetry: Exploring the Fantastic in Mark 6.45-56 (Biblical
Interpretation Series, 41; Leiden: E.J. Brill).
Zimmerli, W.
1982
/ Am Yahweh (Atlanta: John Knox Press).
A TRIBUTE TO THE BOOK LISTOF SOTS

Brevard S. Childs
The important role that the Booklists (BL) of the Society for Old Testament Study have played for biblical scholarship within the English-speaking world for over five decades is widely recognized. Not only have they
registered the development of the discipline from the early 1940s, but they
have also continually shaped it through critical assessments of each year's
publications. The recent decision to ensure the future of the BL by merging
with theJSOTas a fifth issue owes much to the foresight of D.J.A. Clines.
It seems, therefore, appropriate to offer an essay reflecting on the BL in a
Festschrift celebrating his many achievements within the field.
Initial credit for offering a vision and establishing an agenda for the BL
obviously redounds to H.H. Rowley. At the outset, he provided the categories for organizing the material that have largely remained constant:
General, Educational, Archaeology, History, Text and Versions, Literary
Criticism, Exegesis, Religion and Theology, Post-Biblical Judaism, and
Philology.
Nevertheless, there have been some significant alterations over the years
that have refined and expanded the format in order more accurately to
handle the diversity of the material being reviewed. Before long, the educational category was dropped and the more practically oriented volumes
such as school textbooks were listed at the conclusion. Very soon, archaeology was expanded to include epigraphy, and geography was joined with
history. Shortly, literary criticism was enlarged to include introduction,
canon and the history of interpretation. Then, exegesis was aligned with
modern translations. In 1950, religion and theology were prefaced by the
addition of the term law, and the Apocrypha was included with Post-Biblical Judaism. In 1952 a new category appeared entitled 'The Life and
Thought of the Neighbouring Peoples' that documented an impressive
broadening of the BL's range. In 1950, the recently discovered Dead Sea
Scrolls were included in an appendix, but by 1952 this material received a
CHILDS A Tribute to the Book List of SOTS
91
separate category. Later, the term Dead Sea Scrolls was replaced by Qumran Studies. Then, in 1974, the material was encompassed within the rubric
Post-Biblical Studies.
The number of books reviewed has steadily increased from approximately
125 in 1947, 149 in 1948, 339 in 1975, 382 in 1985, and almost 500 in
2000. During the first ten years, the number of reviewers was largely
restricted to a sub-committee, but even in the early years well-known European scholars were also enlisted. In the successive years, the number of
reviewers has been expanded, which was obviously required as the range
of modern languages grew. Also, there was an effort made to make use of
younger colleagues as well as the established veterans.
By and large, Rowley's original directives have been followed in
providing a short review, which both described the book's contents and
assessed its quality. At first, there was a tendency to assign certain areas to
a somewhat limited number of reviewers (Porteous for biblical theology,
or G.R. Driver for philology). This procedure ran the risk of skewing the
perspective, especially when controversial volumes were involved. Driver's
review of Torczyner's Job seems rather harsh even when some censure
was appropriate (BL 1946). Conversely, some evaluations appear unduly
bland with a recurring conclusion: 'no one can read this book without some
profit'. Conservative and fundamentalist volumes were often dismissed with
a note of condescension. Still, even here the use of well-respected evangelical scholars, such as F.F. Bruce, sought to bring a note of fairness to
the debate. Finally, it is fitting to recall how well Robert Carroll served the
BL by interjecting a lively sense of humor in his spicy, often outrageous
reviews.
One can also notice the growing thoroughness in the manner by which
the books were listed. In the early years, a minimum of bibliographical
information was included, but before long the number of pages and the
location of the publications were added. Then, in the early 1980s, the
ISBN identification was listed. Most recently, the changes in the format
include two new indices and the inclusion of the author's full name, when
available. Thus, into the new world of 'high-tech' the BL has entered the
new millennium with great competence.
From the outset, it was Rowley's intent to make the BL into an international organ of research. It was simply assumed that French, German,
Dutch, Italian and Spanish books would be reviewed. However, it was not
obvious that Scandinavian books would also be included. One is amazed to
see the careful attention paid to the immediate post-World War II genera-
92
tion of great Scandinavian scholars writing in their native tongue (Engnell,

Lindblom, Hvidberg, Widengren). Shortly, modern Hebrew, Japanese and
East European volumes received reviews. During the last several decades,
the sheer volume of books published in North America has also left its
mark, for better or worse. The increasing dominance of the English language has meant that the number of translations into English listed in the
BL has dramatically increased. One can only wonder to what extent marketing techniques have begun to exert an influence on the shape of academic
publications.
There are certain features of the BL that call for special praise in providing very helpful information. The BL carefully documented the progress of
many of the major biblical encyclopedias, dictionaries and lexicons such
as the RGG\ TRE, and DBSup. The contents of annuals such as HUCA
and series such as VTSup were carefully recorded and key articles highlighted. For decades, the BL has kept the scholar abreast of the publication
of the Qumran texts. Of greatest help has also been the practice of covering the details contained in rare Festschrift volumes. Because of the careful listing of the articles, a scholar can often find material of interest
hidden among essays lying well outside of one's own field.
Equally important has been the documentation of a host of new directions emerging within the area of biblical studies. These are difficult to
subsume under any one category. A quick perusal of the last twenty years
shows how widespread is the interest in new literary, sociological and
postmodern methodologies. By and large, the same concern for a fair and
objective evaluation obtains in spite of an occasional sense of mystification reflected by some of the reviewers. Equally dramatic has been the
explosion of interest in feminist and gender studies. In spite of the fact that
most of the reviewers are still male, there appears to be a conscious effort
to do justice to these new perspectives.
Another area that has taken on renewed life within the BL has been the
Apocrypha and Post-Biblical studies. The focus on Early Christianity,
Hellenistic Judaism and Greco-Roman Antiquities has been greatly expanded beyond the traditional boundaries of Old Testament studies. Nag
Hammadi and Manichaean studies have been added to the earlier interest
in rabbinical texts and form a link with the renewal of interest in the whole
history of biblical interpretation.
One can discern in British scholarship a certain practical, empirical
orientation toward biblical studies that grows impatient with too many
abstract formulations or with lengthy methodological debates matched by
CHILDS A Tribute to the Book List of SOTS
93
irritating jargon. Highest praise is rather evoked by careful philological

and historical analyses of texts conducted in succinct, lucid English. A rare
talent in reviewing is one that interjects a note of wit into an evaluation or
uses irony as a subtle critique.
There is another aspect to the problem of assessing the contribution of
the BL that is not always easy to determine. When viewed retrospectively,
how well did the reviewers' evaluations stand the test of time? What was
the level of fairness to authors especially with those with whom the reviewer disagreed? Or again, were reviewers able to recognize either the
demise of certain trends or the rise of genuinely fresh approaches shaping
the field?
I think it true to say that the majority of books that were later judged to
be groundbreaking were generally recognized, at least to some extent.
Rowley set a good example in his choice of books to be reviewed in 1946
when he covered the years immediately before, during, and after the end
of World War II. He included the illustrious names of Lieberman, Smalley,
Brooke and McLean, Noth, Pfeiffer, Albright, Eichrodt, Engnell, Pedersen
and C.H. Gordon. Later, the important contributions of Alt, von Rad, Zimmerli and Mowinckel were all positively assessed. Admittedly, there was a
tendency to overestimate the lasting contribution of the works of Rowley
and his close colleagues. Rowley's books were universally praised, yet they
seem not to have left a lasting impact. Aubrey Johnson's small monographs
attracted great attention in Britain, but were greeted with less enthusiasm
in Europe. H.W. Robinson's essay on 'Corporate Personality' resonated
widely beyond Britain, but his monograph Revelation and Inspiration,
although lauded as 'magnificent', did not create the excitement world-wide
which one might have expected.
The Old Testament theologies of Eichrodt and von Rad were both
reviewed by N. Porteous in the BL over the period from 1948 to 1962. The
choice was fully justified since no one in Britain at that time was more
deeply involved with German theology. His reviews show great learning
and appreciation for the work of both theologians. Each was judged to be
monumental. Yet it also seems clear that Porteous understood and agreed
basically with Eichrodt's position. He emphasized Eichrodt's insistence
that Old Testament theology was a historical, not normative science, and
that the unity of the Old Testament could be demonstrated. Above all, the
activity of God in history was thought to guard against the Old Testament's becoming mythology. When Porteous turned to von Rad's work,
he acknowledged its importance and its brilliance. However, he remained
94
uneasy with von Rad's view ofHeilsgeschichte, which he felt was not fully
rooted in empirical history. He objected to seeing a tension between the
covenant tradition at Horeb and the covenant tradition with David. Finally,
he agreed with Eichrodt's attack on von Rad's theology as a form of
existentialism akin to Bultmann.
There is no doubt that this reviewer was striving valiantly to be fair and
objective in his judgment. Yet because of his own training and disposition,
he felt much more at home with Eichrodt's position. As a result, even the
issues that largely concerned Porteoushistoricity, unity, literal sense
were those shaped by earlier debates. In retrospect, the question can be
raised whether English-speaking scholars in the 1950s and 1960s fully
understood the rationale undergirding von Rad's position which called
forth a far more radical break with the nineteenth century, or why European
scholars in the post-World War II period had largely consigned Eichrodt's
Old Testament theology to the past in their preference for von Rad's.
It would be folly to suggest that biblical scholars should strive to be
clairvoyants of the future. Certainly, this is not our task. Yet it does seem
fitting that a major vehicle for biblical research such as the BL should
continue to feel the responsibility of grappling with the larger intellectual
and theological issues arising from a study of the Bible both in clarifying
the past and in illuminating the future.
THE PEOPLE OR THE BOOK

Richard J. Coggins
In 1925 the British Society for Old Testament Study, then very much in its
infancy (it had been founded only in 1917), was responsible for the publication of a collection of essays under the editorship of A.S. Peake which
was given the title The People and the Book. Thereby was started a custom
which continued for the remainder of the twentieth century, of producing a
series of volumes whose primary concern was to look back at the characteristic features of scholarship in the discipline since the appearance of the
previous volume. The most recent of these volumes, Text in Context, edited
by A.D.H. Mayes, appeared in 2000, and is in some important ways different from its predecessors. The intention of this essay is to reflect upon at
least one of those differences and its implications for a contemporary approach to the Hebrew Bible. Such a designation of the material is in itself
one characteristic change now widely accepted in academic writing. It is
interesting to note that the inaugural collection contained one essay by a
Jewish scholar, I. Abrahams, which was entitled 'Jewish Interpretation of
the Old Testament', though in his text Abrahams regularly referred to what
was being interpreted as 'the Hebrew Bible'.
This matter of usage is not, however, my present concern. It is the title
of that collection which has provided my starting point. I have been unable
to discover evidence of any particular debate which led to the volume being
called The People and the Book. It appears that it was taken for granted
then that the book, regularly referred to as the 'Old Testament', reflected
the history of the people described in it. So, to learn more about the book
would enable readers to know more about the people, and increasing knowledge of the people, particularly its history, would bring greater insight into
the contents of the book, envisaged as 'word of God', since it seems that all
the contributors except Dr Abrahams were Christian believers. It is interesting to note the regular and apparently unquestioned use of the singular
96
'book' to describe its varied contents. This is a point to which I want to

return later.
Assumptions concerning the inter-relatedness of people and book had of
course been playing a prominent part in study of the material long before
The People and the Book was published, and have continued to do so for
much of the time since 1925. Probably one of the most popular titles for
books offering a general treatment of the Hebrew Bible has been 'History
of Israel', with the usual minor variations. At least two underlying assumptions can be traced here. First, it has been taken for granted that the most
satisfactory way into the material was an historical approach. The books
from Genesis to Esther in the order found in English translations all appeared to make historical claims, and the same could be said of the great
majority of the prophetic collections. Only the Psalms and wisdom literature seemed excluded from this understanding. Even in the Psalms some
historical concerns could be traced, in the light of the titles given to many
of them, linking them with particular episodes in the life of David. But in
any case the Psalms have always enjoyed a special place in the piety of
both Jews and Christians, and so they were given a distinct status. Only
the books of Job, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes and the Song of Songs remained;
and during much of the period under consideration these wisdom books
were notoriously liable to be neglected.
The second assumption was that the history contained in the biblical text
really did provide a reliable account of the story of ancient Israel. Exception was usually made for Genesis 1-11, and even there speculations concerning possible historical linkages were rife; great interest was taken in,
for example, possible evidence of a catastrophic flood. In any case these
chapters had the whole of humanity rather than one particular people
as their focus. But certainly until the 1960s it was still widely held that a
plausible historical setting could be found for the stories from Genesis 12
onwards, relating to Abraham and the other ancestors, and the historicity
of subsequent events was largely taken for granted. There is no need to rehearse here the increasing scepticism that has characterized the academic
guild with regard to the reliability of this history. Not only has it become
usual for many scholars to say that it is only with the ninth or eighth centuries BCE that Israel and Judah can be placed securely upon the historical
map of the ancient Near East, but also it has seemed entirely natural for
books to be published with titles such as Can a 'History of Israel'Be Written? (Grabbe 1997).
COGGINS The People or the Book
97
It has also increasingly come to be recognized that in the Hebrew Bible

itself the distinction between history and story is much less sharp than has
often been proposed by modern scholars. Examples are not far to seek.
The story told in Kings is reshaped in Chronicles in a way that has caused
great problems for those wishing to maintain the reliability of the Chronicler as a historian. (I am aware that one of my fellow-contributors to this
volume, Graeme Auld, takes a different view of the relation between Kings
and Chronicles [Auld 1994], but the substantive point is unaffected.) More
revealing, perhaps, is the way in which various of the biblical writers felt
quite free to make use of the enemies of Israel as symbolic in a variety of
ways of God's dealings with the people. I have already touched elsewhere
on some of the developments in the understanding of Babylon (Coggins
1999); equally remarkable, because of its unexpectedness, is the treatment
of Nineveh in Jonah. Other examples could readily be provided, and serve
as a warning against any attempt to reach detailed knowledge of any of the
peoples referred to, Israel or its enemies, from a surface reading of the
text.
What has been sketched so far is a well-known story. Less often explored
is the question, Where do we go next? For some the pursuit of 'the people'
still remains paramount. If we cannot simply take for granted the account
of ancient Israel offered to us by the biblical text, then we must use whatever resources are available in order to provide a more reliable picture.
Some at least of the contributors to the volume edited by Grabbe just mentioned take this approach, and the quantity of archaeological research
relating to ancient Palestine points in the same direction. Here of course an
additional complication arises: most current archaeological excavation in
the area is being carried out by Israeli scholars and under Israeli sponsorship, and clearly important ideological concerns arise at this point. In this
context, to excavate a site which may have been mentioned in the Hebrew
Bible is not simply a matter of extending one's knowledge of the ancient
world, it also has an important role in spelling out one's own people's
past. It is of great importance to many modern Israelis (and indeed to many
fundamentalist Christians) to establish that their state is indeed the successor of biblical Israel. One answer to our question then is that the people are
paramount, and that we must endeavour to learn all that we can about that
people.
There will be others, however, for whom such a quest is at best misdirected. Their concern is primarily with the book. They may approach the
book from the standpoint of religious believers, regarding it as a sacred
98
text, or their interests may be more literary, regarding the Hebrew Bible,
either in its original language or in translation, as one of the great literary
masterpieces of our culture. And it is important to remember that, though
these religious and literary concerns are sometimes presented as if they are
in some way opposed to one another or even irreconcilable, it is in fact
perfectly possible to combine the two: to value the 'Old Testament' as a
part of Christian Scripture, to be listened to and perhaps expounded in a
context of worship, and also to have the highest regard for it as part of our
literary heritage.
It might seem, therefore, that future study of the Hebrew Bible may be
in terms not of 'The People and the Book' but of 'The People or the Book'.
Are we to concentrate mainly, perhaps even exclusively, on the history of
an ancient people? If the biblical record engenders more scepticism as to
its historical reliability than was once customary, then it is obviously possible to supply some gaps in our knowledge by means of archaeology, in
the broadest sense of that word.
Alongside this approach it would be perfectly possible to suppose that
we should engage with the text in the same kind of way as we might engage with other texts that have come to be regarded as 'classics'. Such an
engagement might have primarily religious concerns, but it is not difficult
to envisage a wide variety of other motives. It is appropriate in a volume
offered to David Clines, whose work reflects a range of approaches, to
note the rich variety of interpretation which has engendered interest in the
Hebrew Bible from many different angles in recent years. One might draw
a parallel with the novels of Jane Austen. It is known that they were produced at a time when Britain was engaged in protracted war with France
under Napoleon, and the diligent reader can find allusions to that state of
affairs in some of her novels. But no one surely would claim that the prime
reason for reading Jane Austen was to explore the state of England at war.
The literary interest, in its different facets, is all-consuming.
One more comment is perhaps in order before we leave The People and
the Book. Reference there to 'the people' was to the people who constituted ancient Israel. That was no doubt appropriate up to a point, though it
has led to the marginalization of all other groups, as Whitelam (1996) and
others have reminded us. A different kind of limitation has received less
attention. Too often in subsequent discussion 'the people' has in practice
meant other scholars. As was noted at the outset, the series of survey volumes produced by the Society for Old Testament Study has largely concentrated on discussion of scholarly approaches to different aspects of Hebrew
99
Bible study, and this has tended to mean that more attention was given to
discussing scholarly output than to the texts themselves. Such a danger is
liable to affect any academic discipline, perhaps particularly any that is
concerned with literary or philosophical issues, but it is still a potential
hindrance to engagement with more primary concerns. It is a point which
has attracted David Clines's criticism, when he discovered, as an external
examiner, that to do well in an examination on 'Theology of the Old Testament' it was more important to have a good knowledge of Eichrodt or von
Rad than of the Old Testament itself, since 'no knowledge of the Old Testament itself was called for in any question' (Clines 1998b: 287). This is,
however, not an issue to be pursued here; we shall look more carefully at
the dichotomy between people and book outlined above.
II
Brief reflection will suggest that there are some ways in which the dichotomy between people and book, while it is greater now than it must have
seemed to the editors of that first Society for Old Testament Study volume,
need not be quite so drastic as might at first appear. This point is perhaps
best illustrated by examples taken from different parts of the material
rather than by a theoretical discussion.
The book of Ruth may provide a starting point. At one level it can be
taken as an attractive tale, skilfully constructed and engaging its readers'
attention regardless of historical background. By contrast, the older pattern
of critical study of Ruth, as Rogerson has pointed out, required attention to
such matters as the date of composition, relation to the marriage policies
of Ezra and Nehemiah, the question of levirate marriage, and the possible
historicity of the concluding genealogy. The 'narrative arch' of the book,
by contrast, was simply not a part of the traditional scholarly agenda
(Rogerson 2001: 360-61). For some recent studies of Ruth, the situation
has changed dramatically. Fewell and Gunn, for example, have explored
the narrative technique of the book in a way that requires little attention to
its possible historical setting. They announce from the outset their intention to 'read the text as we would a novel or a short story' (Fewell and
Gunn 1990:13). To take the most obvious example; the development of the
story so as to bring its heroine, a sexually available young woman, into
close physical contact with an older, and much richer, man, at dead of night,
is a device that requires no knowledge of ancient Israel for its dramatic
effect, and in Fewell and Gunn's reading this situation arose from Naomi's
thoughts 'about the possibility of seduction' (50).
100
But Sakenfeld has argued in her recent commentary that some knowledge of the social (and thus, by implication, of the historical) situation
underlying the book of Ruth is a desirable, perhaps even a necessary,
requisite for the full understanding of the book. How were foreigners,
particularly young women, actually perceived in ancient Israel? What marriage customs were regarded as acceptable in that society? Even, at the
most basic level, some knowledge of the incidence of famine is helpful
is it a plausible situation, geographically and socially, to suggest that one
could escape from famine by going to Moab, or is that simply a literary
device to provide the setting for the story? Sakenfeld's commentary
throughout is alert to these dimensions of the story as important for our
full appreciation (Sakenfeld 1999). Her treatment of the notoriously complex exchanges between Boaz and the 'next-of-kin' in Ruth 4 is shaped by
the same concerns.
Similar points arise if we turn to a familiar story such as that of
Naboth's vineyard in 1 Kings 21. Again, it is certainly possible to read this
simply as an illustrative story, setting out the kind of power struggle that
might emerge in many different contexts. A tyrant claims what is not his,
and those who attempt to resist are deemed guilty by a corrupt court. In
this case an additional frisson is provided by the machinations of the
foreign woman, who uses her position to ensure that the court's verdict is
'fixed'. At the last moment, however, justice is done: the innocent victim
has indeed been killed, but the tyrant's efforts to corrupt justice are thwarted
by the hero, who shows that both the villainous king and his scheming wife
stand condemned in the sight of God.
Now stories of this kind can be found in traditions, both oral and written, from a great variety of backgrounds. Is 1 Kings 21 adequately served
by a literary treatment focusing on these points? Some would say so, but it
is undeniable that at least two other factors have been important in
interpretation, both traditional and more recent. Traditionally, attention has
focused upon the reason for Naboth's refusal to take what must have
seemed a very attractive offer (1 Kgs 21.2). We might suppose that his
refusal was a matter of sheer stubbornness. At first glance this would perhaps seem to be the most obvious reading of the text, but it is not a view
taken, as far as I am aware, by any recent commentator. A more usual approach has been to attach great significance to the repeated phrase nahalat
'"botai, and to see in it some important difference between Israelite and
Canaanite views of the land, a difference expressed to the detriment of the
latter.
101
A variant on this understanding has been developed recently in readings

of the Hebrew Bible influenced by liberation theology. Such readings see,
in episodes such as this, and in the condemnations of the 'eighth-century
prophets', especially Amos, evidence of basic social injustice, and Godgiven approval of attempts to denounce and break down such a social
system. Here it seems clear that the weight of such a reading is strongly
dependent on the situation described having some historical basis; the
story, it is claimed, must have affected real people, and not simply be the
product of the book. But I have deliberately put the expression 'eighthcentury prophets' in quotation marks, for the question has been raised
whether the final forms of the books of Amos and his supposed contemporaries can legitimately be taken as reliable indicators of the social
structure of eighth-century Israel and Judah. As I have tried to suggest in
my recent commentary, in Amos 'there are very few elements which specifically require an eighth-century setting' (Coggins 2000: 6), and there is
widespread agreement that the book of Amos in the form in which we
have it is the product of a later age.
Once again the 'people or book' question arises. It has certainly been
usual among those who have appealed to the prophets in support of a
liberation reading of the Hebrew Bible to have assumed that the situation
there described is rooted in the historical circumstances of ancient Israel. It
was at one time fashionable even to point to archaeological evidence showing cramped small-scale buildings as supporting such an interpretation.
(This is of course a very risky procedure; in present-day London much of
the building in, say, Knightsbridge or Islington could be regarded as showing signs of serious overcrowding, but that would not necessarily be a reliable indication of a deprived social status among their occupants.) In
theory at least it would be possible to argue that the telling of a story setting out the need of particular groups for liberation from their oppression
could be as effective a support for liberation theology as would be a
demonstration of the historical existence of social distinctions.
The question of how we read prophetic texts provides a further example
of the people/book tension. Older readings, seeing the prophets as either
expositors of the Torah (as in traditional Judaism) or as foretellers of a
distant future (as in traditional Christianity) no longer seem plausible to
those outside those communities, and the view of the prophets as the
originators of ethical monotheism now seems very dated. Some will see
the primary concern in the study of the prophets as the attempt to establish
them as individuals and then to discover more about the society in which
102
they lived and proclaimed their message; others will regard this as an unattainable aim and concentrate much more on the literary form of the books
as they have come down to us. Recent work on Jeremiah well illustrates
this tension; see for example the varied essays in Diamond, O'Connor and
Stulman(1999).
A further example, from a different part of the Hebrew Bible, may illustrate our point from another angle. No traditional introduction to the study
of the Psalms would be complete without the appropriate gestures of respect
to the pioneering work of Hermann Gunkel in analysing the different forms
of individual Psalms. (I am aware of the risk involved in a statement like
this in an essay offered to David Clines, who makes clear that 'in my class
on the Psalms [there is] not a word about Gunkel' [Clines 1998b: 288].)
Form-critical study is often treated as a purely literary analysis, placing
Psalms into specific groups in accordance with a number of well-defined
criteria. What is often overlooked is that Gunkel's concern for form also
involved an attempt to identify the appropriate social setting. A recent
assessment of his work has concluded that 'Gunkel's genius lay in his
recognition that genre is both a literary and social category. As a historian,
he was primarily interested in the way that genre groupings functioned in
ancient Israel' (Nasuti 1999: 211).
There are important implications here for much modern study of the
Psalms. One of the most influential of recent presentations is that of Walter
Brueggemann, who has proposed in several studies a reading of the Psalms
in terms of orientation-disorientation-reorientation. (Brueggemann 1980
was one of the first of his studies along these lines, though his thesis has
subsequently been refined.) This presentation has been criticized, by Nasuti
and others, on the ground that it is purely a modern scholarly construct,
without any roots in the realities of the life of ancient Israel. We are, that is
to say, in the world of the book, and divorced from the life of the people.
There is clearly some force in this point, though it should surely not act as
a disqualification.
It raises, however, a more general difficulty, the proper resolution of
which I should not begin to decide. Our scholarly activity takes place in a
world which seems to be characterized by two radically opposed features.
On the one hand, we know more and more about the life of our ancestors,
and there is a sense in which it becomes possible to reconstruct the life of
the people of ancient Israel in greater detail than ever before. On the other
hand, the kind of life they lived is becoming increasingly remote, and in a
strict sense unimaginable to postmodern humanity. Much study of the
103
biblical material, especially in Jewish and Christian faith communities but

also more generally, has been based on the assumption that the people
described and the world in which they lived were pretty much like our
own. Such an assumption becomes increasingly difficult to sustain. The
issue of 'cultural relativism' has been present for a long time, but rarely
seems seriously to engage the mainstream of biblical scholarship (Nineham
1990). It is at least arguable that our successors will be forced to regard the
material simply as literature if it is to evoke any meaningful response. It
may even be that the very idea of a body of literature will itself soon
become a quaint survival from the past.
Ill
This raises a further problem, apparently an obvious enough concern, yet

one which is rarely addressed in either scholarly or more general treatments
of the biblical material. All that survives to us from a thousand or more
years of a people's history is gathered within one 'book'. It was noted at
the outset that the contents of this 'book' are more diverse than might
appear from the custom of binding them all within one volume, and of
course within both Jewish and Christian tradition the treatment of this
material as 'Bible' has posed difficulties when contradictions, real or apparent, are encountered. Nevertheless, despite the occasional diversity, this is
still a very small quantity of material, which has emerged from a very narrow social base. Most of those who have taught the Hebrew Bible must
have encountered the question from their students whether the only interests to have engaged the people of ancient Israel were religious.
At times the Hebrew Bible itself seems to recognize this narrowness, as
in the frequent reminders in the books of Kings that those seeking further
information about the rulers described can find them in some other source:
'the Book of the Acts of Solomon' (1 Kgs 11.41) or 'the annals of the kings
of Israel/Judah' (1 Kgs 14.19, 29, and elsewhere). It has been questioned
whether such chronicles ever actually existed, or are simply a literary flourish, but for this purpose it scarcely matters. The recognition that further
information might be sought is itself an indication that the editors of our
present collection were aware that there were matters relating to the monarchy that they had not included.
On the other hand, we should also bear in mind that if the current interest in and detection of 'inner-biblical exegesis' is justified, then the base
from which our texts have emerged may be even more straitened than has
104
usually been supposed. Again a simple example may illustrate the point. It
has been customary to picture Zechariah as a new kind of prophet for a
new age, markedly different from his predecessors, to whom no more than
a passing nod is given in the preliminary verses (Zech. 1.4-6). But much
recent study has regarded large parts of the book of Zechariah, even the
often bizarre visions, as essentially an up-dating and application of earlier
traditions which were regarded as authoritative (thus for example Delkurt
2000). The extent of our base of study would become even narrower if this
is a proper reading.
In some parts of the Near East it has been possible to build up a more
extended picture of ancient society by a variety of archaeological finds,
but the amount of such material from Palestine is too scanty for any significant new dimensions to become available. It is striking that Paula McNutt,
in one of the best recent treatments of ancient Israel as a society, begins
with an acknowledgment that use of the biblical material in such a task is a
matter of 'unscrambling omelets and collecting butterflies' (the title of her
first chapter), and then uses the methods of a social anthropologist rather
than those of an archaeologist to explore the nature of that society (McNutt
1999). Social anthropology has much to contribute that is relevant to the
concerns of this essay, but even its most accomplished advocates would
accept that it does not afford the means of reconstructing an ancient society
in specific detail.
IV
Thoughts of this kind had been engaging me independently, but it seemed

particularly appropriate to set some of them down in writing when I was
invited to contribute to a volume in honour of David Clines. My first
thought for a title was 'Why is there a David Clines and what does he do
to you if you disagree with him?' This is, of course, a rather feeble adaptation of a form of title which he himself has several times used, but it does
reflect two particular concerns. The first may be regarded as a kind of
reader-response criticism. There are many biblical scholars, some of them
of great distinction, whose personalities and individual concerns remain
completely hidden behind their writings. This could never be said of David.
He will never be accused of the kind of authorial modesty that hides its
own views behind the veneer of scholarship. Not many other Hebrew Bible
scholars could have produced a collection such as On the Way to the Postmodern, the introduction to which begins with the assertion that 'we like
105
to tell stories, especially the ones we make up for ourselves, and especially
those we invent about ourselves' (Clines 1998a: xv). For his readers,
David's writings have the important result of making them think.
The second issue relates to the vigour with which David is prepared to
express his views when he sees some inadequacy. Australian cricketers are
known to be adept at sledging (not of the winter sports kind), and their
fellow countryman shares that facility. Biblical studies in the United Kingdom have long enjoyed a privileged position, and David is one of the not
many scholars who is willing to point this out. Such a situation is bound to
come under increasingly close scrutiny, and it will be important for those
engaged in biblical studies at higher level to decide what it is they are
studying and how it should be commended to those who have control of
the purse strings. (Some of the implications of this for New Testament
scholarship are explored by Houlden 2000, but his comments are also
applicable to the Old Testament/Hebrew Bible.) One very simple question
which will have to be addressed is: Are those who study the Hebrew scriptures primarily engaged in trying to reconstruct the history of an ancient
people? or is the first task a literary one, to make available the riches of a
particular body of literature which has shaped our society? Answers may
be a long way off, but at least it is important to start asking the questions.
Bibliography
Auld, A.G.
1994
Kings without Privilege (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark).
Brueggemann, W.
1980
'Psalms and the Life of Faith: A Suggested Typology of Function', JSOT17:
3-32.
Clines, D.J.A.
1998a
On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays, 1968-1998 (2 vols.;
JSOTSup, 292-93; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press).
1998b
'The Postmodern Adventure in Biblical Studies', in D.J.A. Clines and S.D.
Moore (eds.), Auguries: The Jubilee Volume of the Sheffield Department of
Biblical Studies (JSOTSup, 269; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press):
276-91.
Coggins, R.J.
1999
'The Exile: History and Ideology', ExpTim 110: 389-93.
2000
Joel and Amos (New Century Bible; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press).
Delkurt, H.
2000
Sacharjas Nachtgesichte: Zur Aufhahme und Abwandlung prophetischer
Traditionen (BZAW, 302; Berlin: W. de Gruyter).
Diamond, A.R.P., K.M. O'Connor and L. Stulman (eds.)
1999
Troubling Jeremiah (JSOTSup, 260; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press).
106
Fewell, D.N., and D.M. Gunn

1990
Compromising Redemption: Relating Characters in the Book of Ruth (Literary
Currents in Biblical Interpretation; Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press).
Grabbe, L.L. (ed.)
1997
Can a 'History of Israel' Be Written ? (JSOTSup, 245; European Seminar in
Historical Methodology, 1; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press).
Houlden, J.L.
2000
'Enlightenment, Establishment and the Word', JSNT78: 67-82.
Mayes, A.D.H. (ed.)
2000
Text in Context: Essays by Members of the Society for Old Testament Study
(Oxford: Oxford University Press).
McNutt, P.
1999
Reconstructing the Society of Ancient Israel (Library of Ancient Israel;
London: SPCK).
Nasuti, H.P.
1999
Defining the Sacred Songs: Genre, Tradition and the Post-Critical Interpretation of the Psalms (JSOTSup, 218; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press).
Nineham, D.E.
1990
'Cultural Relativism', in R.J. Coggins and J.L. Houlden (eds.),J Dictionary
of Biblical Interpretation (London: SCM Press): 155-59.
Peake, A.S. (ed.)
1925
The People and the Book (Oxford: Clarendon Press).
Rogerson, J. (ed.)
2001
The Oxford Illustrated History of the Bible (Oxford: Oxford University Press).
Sakenfeld, K.D.
1999
Ruth (Interpretation; Louisville: John Knox Press).
Whitelam, K.W.
1996
The Invention of Ancient Israel: The Silencing of Palestinian History (London: Routledge).
TRAGEDY AND ETHICS: REVISITING ATHENS AND JERUSALEM

Philip R. Davies
1. Comparison and Contrast

In 1977, a popular textbook appeared called The Old Testament and the
Literary Critic, by David Robertson of the University of California. Robertson had been the author of the article on 'The Bible as Literature' in the
Interpreter's Dictionary of the Bible, Supplementary Volume (Robertson
1976). However, despite the flowering of literary criticism in biblical studies since its publication, neither this nor his book a year later is much
cited, let alone used. I recall a discussion of the book, soon after its publication, among the three Hebrew Bible (or was it 'Old Testament' in those
days?) lecturers at the University of Sheffield. We all seem to have either
forgotten or ignored it. The book is not mentioned in the otherwise wellreferenced review of literary criticism by Exum and Clines (1993), nor by
Gunn (1980); Gunn and Fewell (1993) list it in their bibliography but do
not discuss it. Sheffield scholars (myself included) are in company with
most of the guild, which has neglected to engage with it. One partial exception is Cheryl Exum, who at least included an essay by Robertson in her
collection on tragedy and comedy in the Bible (Robertson 1984).'
At the time I first read Robertson's book, what struck me was the chapter
on 'Comedy and Tragedy: Exodus 1-15 and TheBacchae\ Here Robertson
offers us two stories that he says are mirror images of the same dramatic
coin (Robertson 1977: 16). He sees the biblical story, of course, as the
comedy, and the common plot of the two stories is how a 'strange and
little known god authenticates his claim to godhood by unleasing [sic] his
divine power against a proud and stubborn unbeliever' (17).
Yet Robertsonand this is the unusual feature, I think, of an essay published in 1977was not content simply to draw parallels, nor did he try to
1. For Robertson's influence on Exum, see Exum 1992: 164 n. 54though she
does not use the chapter under discussion.
108
argue that there was any direct historical or cultural relationship between
the stories. He made instead a judgment between them on the basis of aesthetics and ethics. First, he observes that Euripides' play has, as he says, a
'capacity to absorb irony'. The spectator or reader is not unambiguously
on the side of Dionysus; Pentheus is after all behaving rationally, has the
peace and order of his city at heart, and ends up the victim of a god who
represents the opposite of order, indeed, a scapegoat of Dionysus's cult.
Because the conflict between the two characters is full of such ironies, the
audience is hindered from making any automatic or simple moral judgment between them. There is no obvious hero or villain. The fact that one
of the characters is a god and, indeed, the god in whose honour the play is
being staged does not load the dice. Indeed, Dionysus is asked by Cadmus
whether a god should be so ruled by the human emotion of vengeance. The
play does not celebrate the victory of Dionysiac ecstasy over social order,
and it is hard to imagine that the original audience was expected to interpret
it this way. Rather, the tragedy stages the conflict between the forces of
chaos embedded in the cult of Dionysus and the democratic ideals of the
Athenian city: justice and order, the ideals the Athenians and their philosophers were trying so hard to promote as the basis of their civic system.
The audience, then, is invited to see conflict, recognize irreconcilable
demands and values, and make their judgment. Pentheus is a fool to fight
with a god, but his opposition to such a barbaric cult is surely not unreasonable. And is he not deserving of sympathy for his fate? To make this
fate more poignant, his mother Agave is the locus of the two opposing
forces, impelled by the machinations of the vengeful god to butcher her
own son, without recognizing him. The famous recognition scene, one of
the stock features of Greek tragedy, also unmasks the Dionysiac frenzy as
an unreality and in fact endorses the world represented by Pentheus, the
sacrificed mortal, as the real.
By contrast, the Exodus story, which opposes the god Yahweh to the king
of Egypt, offers the reader no possibility of ambiguity and no invitation to
moral decision, unless the reader, who will be a modem one, is resourceful
enough to force such a reading. (David Gunn, for example [Gunn 1982],
has highlighted how Yahweh hardens the heart of the king, thus creating
an ambiguity over responsibility for the prevention of the release of Israelites, and this episode is noticed also by Robertson as a parallel to what
Dionysus does to Pentheus.) The human perpetrator of the evil is thus himself, at least partly, a victim. Yet there is no hint from the narrator that in
so doing Yahweh is acting immorally or that one should sympathize with
DAVIES Tragedy and Ethics
109
the pharaoh, whose characterization, thin as it is, allows no space for such
feelings. There is, in short, an obvious hero in the biblical story. Moral
clarity we have here in abundance and our sympathies are directed towards
Yahweh and Moses. The original readers or hearers of the story are not
incited, either, to feel any twinge for the slaughter of firstborn sons, far less
sympathize or perceive a contrary viewpoint. The suffering of humans is
effaced by the demonstration of divine power (and preference).
After this comparison, Robertson concludes that while Euripides inculcates essentially adult emotions (ambivalence toward self, others and the
gods), the biblical story represents the simplicity of the child, in which there
are simple categories of good and evil. 'It is preferable', he finally says, 'to
practice living by reading The Bacchae than by reading Exodus 1-15' (Robertson 1977: 30). The Bacchae is superior to the biblical story as the adult
world is to the child's.
However, this contrast can be taken, as Robertson also suggests, well
beyond the two individual stories. These stories are exemplary of most of
the repertoire of the Bible and of Greek tragedy respectively. The Exodus
plot, for example, of Yahweh's vindication over enemies that do not
recognize and honour him, is mirrored in several other biblical stories,
including the Gospel of Mark, while all or most of Greek tragedy (and a
lot of other Greek literature) is also characterized by the moral ambiguity
and critical perception of The Bacchae. In short, Robertson's larger thesis
is that reading the Bible as a whole is not good for you if you want to be an
adult. Much better to read classical Greek literature. Does this provocative
thesis explain why his essay has been virtually ignored in subsequent scholarship? What he claims was for many teachers and students of the Bible far
too heretical: that the Bible does not head the league of morally uplifting
literature, that reading the Bible stunts your moral growth. Even among the
more recent wave of literary and ideological critics of the Bible there remains a good deal of chauvinism towards what is still a loved and favoured
body of literature. Nevertheless, prompted by the refusal of some feminists
to 'redeem' the literature morally or aesthetically, there have been other critiques (gay/queer, postcolonial) prepared to put the biblical contents morally
under interrogation. Few have yet done so with the boldness of Robertson.
In this essay I want to comment on Robertson's claim that the Bible is,
morally speaking, for children, not adults. I want to explore the theological
and the political contexts of this comparison of Greek tragedy and biblical
narrative and to make some further observations on the moral dimension of
reading the Bible and the tragedies. Finally, I shall make some suggestions
110
about our contemporary Western culture and its absorption of the radically
different registers of biblical and Greek ethical systems.2
To begin with, Robertson's analysis can certainly be undergirded by a
consideration of Genesis 34, the story of Eden. Despite the differences in
meaning this myth has within Judaism and Christianity, it charts the movement from a childlike world to an adult one: the world of the child is
denominated by the parental veto, the lack of responsibility for sustaining
one's own life, the lack of knowledge of the difference between good and
evil. Adult life is characterized by open eyes, moral responsibility, work,
awareness of death.
The Eden story can thus easily be read, and has been read,3 as a myth of
humanity growing up, of the child rebelling against its parent, achieving
autonomy, thus becoming adult, realizing it is naked, full of guilt and moral
self-consciousness. One can find a story of a god who, unable to create evil
in the world because everything he does is good, creates the possibility of
evil as disobedience and thus absolves himself from responsibility for evil
by defining it as human sin. In which case, the humans grow up and face
their responsibilities and the deity does not.
The essential point here, though, is that the childhood state is characterized, in both later Jewish and Christian interpretation, as a paradise, a place
lost with regret, hopefully to be regained corporately or individually at some
future point. This hope recapitulates not so much the wish for immortality
as the adult desire for the state of childhood, a state without responsibility,
without angst, or the need for self-reliance or moral decision. The story
itself does not pretend that the leaving of the garden can be reversed, that
childbirth will be painless, that snakes will walk upright again. The Christian religious mythology based on it, however, has made it so; childhood is
the state in which humans were created and for which they were intended.
The metaphysics of the Bible, then, as constructed by its traditional reading as scripture at least, conforms with the ethics as defined by Robertson:
the ideal state of humanity is infancy. The 'law of the father', as Freud and
Lacan would have it, not only established the Edenic existence but also
continues to rule. In what would be a typically Clinesian move, we might
assert that the Fatherhood of God means the Childhood of Humanity.
If Robertson's claim, then, is at least a very substantial one, and to some
extent supported by traditional Christian anthropology, is his comparison
2. Some of what follows is based on the discusssion in Davies 1995.
3. For a convenient range of readings from Jewish, Christian and other perspectives
see Morris and Sawyer (1992), especially the introduction by Morris, 21-38.
111
with Greek tragedy valid? Martha Nussbaum has made this observation on
Greek tragedy:
Greek polytheism, surprisingly, articulates a certain element of Kantian
morality better than any monotheistic creed could: namely, it insists upon
the supreme and binding authority, the divinity, so to speak, of each ethical
obligation, in all circumstances whatever, including those in which the gods
themselves collide (1986: 49).
Nussbaum is pointing here to the nature of individual ethical acts, which

all entail a unique human decision, choice, amid a conflict of feelings,
impulses, arguments and pressures. Examples come readily to mind: the
slaughter by Agamemnon of his daughter Iphigenia, a decision which either
way will bring disaster to him and his house. Are we directed by the dramatist to condemn him when he chooses to make the sacrifice? When he
is slain by his wife do we see this as just retribution? We are certainly
prompted to consider the terrible chain of events already invoked by the
feud between Atreus and Thyestes, in which Atreus served up to Thyestes
his own sons at a banquet; yet even this act has its own provocation.
Where does evil begin? and how is it requited except by another evil? how
is the chain of evil to be brought to an end? The same dilemma confronts
us in the character of Oedipus, whom we might well regard as an innocent
victim but who regards himself as the perpetrator of an outrage. What is
the moral value of his lack of recognition of either his father or mother?
And what of the duel between Antigone and Creon over the corpse of Polyneices? Here indeed is a famous debate, and Hegel may have been right to
see the two protagonists as mirror images. Is Antigone so right and Creon
so wrong, even when Teiresias intervenes to convince the king of his
wrong? Would a man who puts the city before his own kin necessarily
draw contempt from an Athenian audience? There is a kind of nobility in
his actions that makes his final grief worthy of sympathy.
Part of the morality of Greek tragedy is that heroes, while responsible for their actions, do not have full control over events. They have the
demands of family and society and of political duty to balance; but they
also confront the capricious allegiances of gods, usually conflicting, to
which we can adda point of which Nussbaum makes muchthe element of chance. Not least, as already indicated, is the thread of disaster that
runs through families (houses, oikof) for generations, the curse that comes
home finally to Orestes. In all this, the human must time and again make
the decision, taking responsibility for what he or she does, perhaps aware
of the immediate effects but not of the ultimate consequences. The impor-
112
tance of the recognition scene in Athenian tragedy is vital: here in dramatic form is laid out the peril of not seeing things or persons for what
they are. Ignorance is (as Plato's Socrates taught) an enemy of virtue.
There are, then, multiple moral imperatives in the ties of family, of civic
duty and of allegiance to one god or goddess. The universe of the tragedies
as a whole, then, is not evidently a moral system: it is an arena of conflict,
in which there are more ways of losing than winning, or even sometimes
no ways of winning. The gods cannot be relied upon, as Aeschylus's Prometheus Bound shows. Precisely in the absence of a single god to determine morality by his will (let alone convey it to humans), the individual
becomes the effective agent of moral decision, and each decision stands on
its own, has its unique elements, cannot be generalized into a norm. Indeed, as I have already stated, these decisions are usually characterized by
a conflict of norms.
In the Greek theatre, we cannot even rely on the authority of the chorus,
which, though its function varies among the dramatists, acts in general
more as a filter or a megaphone for the currents of human response than as
the voice of an authorial verdict. In the words of Schlesinger (1963: 45):
'[The Chorus] does not point up a moral: it points up a dilemma'. No, it is
the individual human that is the measure of all things, and there is no
escape from this challenge, nor from the consequences of a choice whether
perceived as right or wrong.
Essentially, the Hebrew Bible and the Athenian tragedy operate in two
different moral climates. Wherein precisely lies the difference? An excellent illustration of this is Abraham's near-sacrifice of Isaac (Gen. 22).4
Here it is not Abraham but God who is truly the parent, and Abraham needs
only to act in a childlike, trusting, obedient and totally unreflective way.
Which he does. There are no hints of moral ambiguity in the story: to be
sure, the command is perhaps seen as outrageous (even in a world where
child sacrifice is not unknown) and so is presented as a testwhich Abraham passes. But what Abrahamfeels about the command we do not know,
and what Isaac feels we do not know since he hardly figures and in any
case is unaware of what is his fate. (What Sarah feels we also have no idea
about and are not invited to consider.) It is not a test of Abraham's conscience; it is not an invitation to decide, not even a moral dilemma. It is a
test of his resistance to all that is humane and adult. His obedience overcomes all, and he is rewarded. Had Abraham been allowed to think, 'Such
4. According to Exum and Whedbee (1985: 9-19) the story of Isaac is a comedy;
on Gen. 22 specifically, see 14-15.
113
a demand is unworthy of a god that I would worship', he would have

expressed a modern sentiment, but, even more importantly failed the test.
The contrast with Agamemnon is stark. The king is a double parent: father
of his daughter but also father of the Greek army. He has nothing to obey
(or perhaps he has too much to obey); his own reason or conscience is
what he must follow. He is, indeed, very much the adult (and not merely
by virtue of being a parent).
The case of Jephthah's daughter (Judg. 11.29-40) offers perhaps a closer
parallel to the case of Agamemnon and Iphigenia, since here too is a daughter, and one sacrificed for the sake of military success. Unlike Abraham,
Jephthah is not bound by a divine command but, like Agamemnon, by an
obligation he has entered intothough in Agamemnon's case the enterprise was not entirely voluntary. In the confrontation with his daughter we
ought to expect some kind of pathos (tragedy?) if not conflict. Some protest at his predicament might be anticipated. But, in fact, we find nothing of
the kind: rather, as with Genesis 22, obedience to the divine vow is never
questioned, and in that sense Jephthah absolves himself of responsibility,
having been ignorant of its consequence at the time of making the vow. At
least, that is how he behaves. Does he admit, let alone reflect on, the folly
of his decision? No: he reflects on the folly of his daughter's decision! Seeing her, Jephthah rips his garments and cries, 'Alas, my daughter! You have
brought me very low: you have become one of my troublers; for I have
opened my mouth to Yahweh and I cannot recant' (v. 35). This is an outburst that is self-centred and reproachful of his own daughter. He has the
decision, in theory, whether or not to carry out the vow. The consequences
on himself would be grave, no doubt, but at least no worse than on his own
daughter! But the availability, or perhaps the validity, of this decision is as
invisible to him as it was to Abraham. Moreover, it is also invisible to his
daughter, for she replies, 'Father, you have opened your mouth to Yahweh;
do to me what came from your mouth, now that Yahweh has given you
vengeance over your enemies, the Ammonites' (v. 36). She has somehow
guessed, or heard, that the victory has her as its price. She too has a choice:
to protest to her father, to plead (a choice of which Iphigenia certainly avails
herself). Yet the daughter (unnamed, in keeping with her passive status, the
withholding of character, of personhood, that the narrator wishes, as we
find also in Genesis 22, where Isaac is unnamed; this is not necessarily a
gender issue) does not recognize that either she or her father has a choice.
So she asks for two months to wander up and down on the mountains and
'bewail her virginity', at the end of which her father presumably fulfils his
114
vow (pace Marcus 1986). Again, the 'adult' dimension, the responsibility
of making a decision, of being an autonomous moral agent, is absent; the
will of the god, real or assumed, precludes, stifles even, the thought of acting contrary to a prescribed code of obedience.
Although the story does not have a happy ending, then, one feels very
little for either of the characters.5 This story could so easily be rewritten
into a great tragedy. But that is the point: rewritten. The modern reader
surely feels cheated of a dramatic enactment of the cruel confrontation of
personal ambition, divine obligation and paternal love.
2. Behind the Difference
While stating the obvious is sometimes good and necessary, it is inadequate. What lies behind the difference in the ethical universes of Jerusalem
and Athens? As quoted earlier, Nussbaum notes with apparent surprise
that it is Greek polytheism that generates the kind of post-Kantian definition of ethics to which most moderns subscribe. But should that in fact
represent a paradox? The advantage of a monotheistic world view is that
there is an absolute truth and an absolute ethic. By definition the will of
God will always prevail and all endings will be the right ones: history
must be a comedy. Even in a relatively sophisticated theology such as that
of Proverbs, where intermittent divine intervention is displaced by human
behaviour in a universe created to operate according to a fairly automatic
moral code, there are absolute 'rights' and 'wrongs' implanted by the one
god as part of the fabric of the universe he created. If there is one deity,
there can be no moral conflict, and we all get what we deserve (which,
depending on one's view of tragedy, might eliminate it from the biblical
corpus). The same is not true, of course, in a polytheistic society, except
under the condition that the gods have a sovereign. But even then, sov-
5. The detailed analysis of the story by Exum (1992:45-69) differs from my reading here in some respects, but she also concludes that 'Jephthah, in contrast to Saul,
fails to attain genuinely tragic proportions' (57), and that 'the daughter, too, lacks the
development that makes for a genuinely tragic personality', and pertinently contrasts
her with the Iphigenia of Aeschylus. She also makes much of the divine silence, but
unlike Genesis 22, it was not the deity here who initiated the course of events; and
Jephthah does not even ask whether he might be released from the vow. For me the
silence of the deity underscores Jephthah's complete submission to what he sees as his
only duty. We are perhaps left wondering whether the god of Genesis 22 might have
relented here tooif asked.
115
ereigns do not always possess complete autonomy; they are prone to the
motives of their consorts and their would-be heirs (just like human monarchs). In a polytheistic universe humans have to choose their allegiance,
and may well hedge their bets by trying to please as many deities as possible, or, as in the case of Assyria, opt for the protection of a patron deity (see
Porter 2000). A monotheistic universe is an ordered universe, and the Athenians (following the lonians) sought order as much as any others. Indeed,
Plato attacked the tragedians, and other poets too, on the grounds that they
misinterpreted the truth by suggesting that good men can be unhappy and
vice versa, and that they nourished the irrational by evoking fear and pity.
The political world of the ancient Near East, by contrast, was a mirror of
the heavenly world: henotheism and monotheism are forms of heavenly
monarchy and the principle of monarchy is the very opposite of individual
autonomy, however much compromise is exercised in practice. The political
ideology of the Bible's world, not surprisingly, conforms to the overwhelmingly monarchic pattern. For the Sumerians and Babylonians kingship had
descended from heaven. The king, in Mesopotamia and in Egypt, personified, or represented, the deity; effectively he was god on earth, appointed
by birth or election. He was responsible for law, order, and hence morality.
He was, either in effect or in official ideology, god on earth. All subjects
were sheep, the king the shepherd, at least in theory. Morality was not for
the flock. They had merely to obey the laws of nature and of society, which
were in effect identical.
The advent of democracy in Athens therefore implied a different conception of society. Wresting power from the oligarchy and vesting it in the citizenry, the democratic system created a new human being: the individual as
a political agent, as an autonomous actor. As a result of the laws of Solon
(594 BCE) the individual (if free and male) was 'politicized'. Every citizen
participated, or was expected to participate, in the ruling and administration
of the city. The privilege of citizenship involved obligations in public service: the exercise of reason and judgment when the citizen, as an individual
together with other individuals, was asked to declare a verdict in a judicial
hearing, or to decide in assembly whether the city should go to war. The
responsibilities of each Athenian citizen involved weighing priorities, assessing human motivation, determining a collective course of action. This
political configuration is a prerequisite of the Athenian tragedy. 'In fifthcentury Athenian tragedy, as in life, the individual existed as a separate,
clearly defined entity, aware of his selfhood and moral responsibility for
his actions' (Vickers 1973: 37).
116
Greek tragedy, however, is not about abstract principles, though these

principles underlie the dilemma of each protagonist; 'it is about people, as
drama should be, and about what they do to each other. It deals with
human relationships' (Vickers 1973: 3). Each decision was fundamentally
a unique one, as in every good court of law. The impossibility of applying
principles consistently is indeed the essential condition that the tragedies
express. The Athenians had to discover that politics was not merely about
principles but about the management of conflicting claims, about individual cases. A classic dilemma was the conflict of household/family and city,
the issue that divides Creon and Antigone. There were, of course, social
traditions of behaviour and there were the requirements of the gods. These
themselves, however, were not the answer, but part of the calculation, and
needed to be weighed alongside other considerations.
What made a person guilty or not? This is an especially difficult decision once the definition of guilt is problematized. Very few characters in
Athenian tragedy are absolutely guilty or innocent, even if they may have
committed deeds that invited condemnation. Is a course of action wise or
not? How can the outcome, by which such matters should be determined,
be known in advance? These issues were dramatized in the Athenian theatre, exploiting a rather narrow range of stories, borrowed largely from
Homeric myth and legend, and, like so many modern soap operas, confined within the walls, real and symbolic, of an oikos, a family, a household. Family and kin were paramount in Greek, as in Israelite, society, and
here lay the strongest duties and the strongest emotionsand so here lurked
a potential conflict with personal and civic responsibilities. (As Hitchcock
famously observed, the family is where most murders take place.)
For the Athenian body politic, or at least their dramatists and philosophers, the gods themselves are little more than glorified humans, morally
speaking. As mentioned earlier, it is debated whether in the great Athenian
dramatists (or in some), Zeus himself is presented as a transcendental guarantor of order, or rather, like the Wagnerian Wotan, a personality of desperate internal conflict, his own instinct at war with what he is supposed to
represent. The point, however, is that in Athenian society, political matters
were not decided with reference to divine decrees; what is right is decided
by the demos, by public opinion, and not by royal or divine decree, not by
the verdict of the elders, and perhaps only to an extent by traditional laws
and within the household (in strong contrast to the biblical system and
presumably to the society of post-monarchic Judah).
DA VIES Tragedy and Ethics
117
Thus, ambiguity of motive, lack of moral uncertainty, conflict of duties

and the inexorable laws of consequence are all exposed on the stage and
the audience subjected to the spectacle of a world that threatens at any
time to fall into chaos through the squabbles of the gods, through the endless cycle of human vengeance (the duty of custom), through lack of adequate human knowledge, foresight and recognition, or through the personal
weaknesses of individuals.6 How in this democratic society will order be
created, defined and defended by the citizenry? Only when citizens can
look back from the stage into their own feelings and motivations rather
than upward to the heavens or downward into the pages of holy books.
The movements in philosophy at the time of the Athenian tragedies were
turning from cosmology and natural science to politics and ethics, the science of human behaviour, individual and collective (Euripides was influenced by both Anaxagoras and Protagoras). We might speak, without a huge
amount of exaggeration, of a humanistic movement in which the tragic
drama played a key role, and in which the human being was publicly represented as the measure of things. Again, as suggested earlier for the scriptures of Judaism and Christianity, metaphysics, politics and ethics are
bound up together.
So in the texts of the Hebrew Bible individualism is condemned as
'doing what is right in your own eyes',7 and in Athens it is embraced,
though not necessarily with total joy. Such simplicity does not, of course,
adequately prove that the Bible offers an ethically infantile world while
Athenian tragedy offers an adult one. But the charge is illuminating, and I
am suggesting that it may be quite difficult to refute. The matter should
not stop here, however. David Clines is fond of saying that the Bible is a
modern book for a modern world (but I would add, not necessarily for a
6. What is especially interesting, however, is that despite the exclusion of women
from the demos, and the preponderance of male persons and activities in the Homeric
myths on which they are based, the Athenian tragedies often feature women not just
as the objects of male decision-making (e.g. Iphigenia, Hecabe) but also as subjects
(Andromache, Antigone, Clytemnestra). Here too is a significant contrast with the literature of the Hebrew Bible, but the possible reasons for this contrast are beyond my
scope at present.
7. Even in the book of Proverbs, where a case might be made for some degree of
individual observation and intelligence in discerning the moral order, the emphasis is
on transmitted 'wisdom' and, of course, ultimately this 'wisdom' is identified with the
will of the god. The writer of Ecclesiastes went so far as to deny the notion of a divine
order, but accepted a natural order. Unlike the Athenians, he did not understand that
social order is something that humans can (and in fact inevitably do) create.
118
postmodern one), and the implication of this is that biblical scholars are
dealing with the world of here and now. In what sense, then, is a
discussion of the ethical systems of the Bible and ancient Athenian tragedy
relevant to the twenty-first century? For example, if Robertson is right, are
those of us who still claim to live in a Judaeo-Christian culture morally
immature?
The answer to this question is 'no', because in fact our civilization is not
(despite claims to the contrary) Judaeo-Christian, but Judaeo-Greek-Christian. We certainly did not inherit individualism, democracy or the rule of
reason from Judaeo-Christian roots. In which case, if Robertson is right,
then is our civilization ethically schizophrenic! Do we try to combine the
ethical perspectives of Jerusalem and Athens?
In the course of probably the most comprehensive comparison of Greek
and biblical culture, John Pairman Brown takes a view quite different from
Robertson. He observes as follows:
Today relations are the exact opposite of what they were in the later Middle
Ages. Then society was based on a generally accepted system of belief, and
secular Greek rationalism was only just making its way. Today Christian
(and Jewish) belief is marginalized as a private choice, while Greek rational
thought seems everywhere triumphant (2001: 199).
Brown's verdict on this state of affairs is gloomy. For him, our civilization
needs the heritage of both Israel and Greece; we must hold together the
classroom and the congregation, reason and faith, logic and trust. We can,
indeed, benefit from the biblical and the Greek genes our civilization has
inherited. Yet I doubt if Brown's analysis is quite true. The humanistic ethic
of Athens and the theocratic ethic of Jerusalem are today as influential as
each other; neither is subordinated, nor are they harmoniously combined. I
can here only give an illustration by way of sparking the debate: the holy
war of the West against 'terrorism' launched in 2001 and at the time of writing ongoing and without end in sight. The dualistic morality characteristic
of the Bible is to the fore in the rhetoric and prosecution of this conflict
as the West fights for 'freedom' against 'terrorism', or for 'good' against
'evil'. Both sides agree that they are self-evidently right, the other selfevidently wrong: for the West, 'terrorism' (as if it defined an ideological
position rather than simply a tactic) is to be defeated in the 'War of the
Children of Light against the Children of Darkness'. For the 'terrorists'
(so-called, as if helicopter gunships and high-altitude aerial bombing were
not just as terrible) America and the West are the Great Satan, cause of all
ills, enemies of God.
DA VIES Tragedy and Ethics
119
The 'freedom' for which the 'Children of Light' (I mean the West, or
some of the West) do battle is defined in Greek terms: democracy, humanistic values, liberty and reason, while the 'terrorists' are identified as 'fundamentalists' who believe in a society governed by God and what he has
revealed through his prophet. As I perceive it, the spectacle is a paradoxical
one: of a biblical war led by Athens against Jerusalem. It is a war fought on
biblical terms, full of what Robertson calls 'moral clarity', bereft of rational
analysis or perception of ambiguity: what, for instance, motivates this 'terrorism'? The Western 'democracies' are in fact behaving in a very unAthenian way, indeed, in a very 'Jerusalemite' way.8
Our dual heritage from Athens and Jerusalem, then, is not necessarily
'complementary', despite centuries of Neoplatonism and Aristotelianism
from Christian theologians of classical and mediaeval times. It can easily
be conflicting. Using Robertson's terms, we might suggest that Western
moral behaviour is perhaps neither childish nor adult, but adolescent,
famously a time of conflict as the passage from childhood to adulthood is
negotiated. The question is whether we will grow out of it into adulthood.
Where would such a growing up leave the Bible? What should we do with
it? My answer is that, if nothing else, biblical scholars can reflect, critically
and in public, on how our biblical heritage can responsibly be used in private and public ethics and how the tragedies of thousands of dead innocents, in New York, Israel and Palestine, Asia and Africa, can be related,
in a way that properly reflects an adult humanity, to whatever insights our
Bible and our heritage of reading and misreading it have to teach us.
Between preaching it as Word of God and detachedly dissecting its history
and literature and how it came about, there is surely another way to engage
with it ethically and to free ourselves also of its ethical shortcomings.
Bibliography
Auerbach, E.
1957
Brown, J.P.
2001
Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature (trans. William

Trask; Garden City, NY: Doubleday).
Israel and Hellas .III. The Legacy of Iranian Imperialism and the Individual
(BZAW, 299; Berlin: W. de Gruyter).
8. Though, to be accurate, only 'un-Athenian' in theory: Athenians were guilty of

terrible atrocities themselves in the fifth century, for which the 'demagogues' were
only partly responsible. The ideals of the Athenians were no more put into immediate
effect than those of the French Revolution.
120
Davies, P.R.
1995
Exum, J.C.
1992

'Ethics and the Old Testament', in J.W. Rogerson, M. Davies and M. Daniel
Carroll R. (eds.), The Bible in Ethics: The Second Sheffield Colloquium
(JSOTSup, 207; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press): 164-73.
Tragedy and Biblical Narrative: Arrows of the Almighty (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).
Exum, J.C., and J.W. Whedbee
1985
'Isaac, Samson and Saul: Reflections on the Comic and Tragic Visions', in
Exum (ed.) 1985: 5-40.
Exum, J.C. (ed.)
1985
Tragedy and Comedy in the Bible (Semeia, 32; Decatur: Scholars Press).
Exum, J.C., and D.J.A. Clines (eds.)
1993
The New Literary Criticism and the Bible (JSOTSup, 143; Sheffield: JSOT
Press; Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press International).
Gunn, D.M.
1980
The Fate of King Saul: An Interpretation of a Biblical Story (JSOTSup, 14;
1982
'The "Hardening of Pharaoh's Heart": Plot, Character and Theology in
Exodus 1-14', in D.J.A. Clines, D.M. Gunn and A.J. Hauser (eds.), Art and
Meaning: Rhetoric in Biblical Literature (JSOTSup, 19; Sheffield: JSOT
Press): 72-96.
Gunn, D.M., and D. Fewell (eds.)
1993
Narrative in the Hebrew Bible (Oxford: Oxford University Press).
Humphreys, W.L.
1985
The Tragic Vision and the Hebrew Tradition (OBT, 18; Philadelphia: Fortress
Press).
Marcus, D.
1986
Jephthah and his Vow (Lubbock, TX: Texas Tech Press).
Morris, P., and D. Sawyer (eds.)
1992
A Walk in the Garden: Biblical, Iconographical and Literary Images of Eden
(JSOTSup, 136; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press).
Nussbaum, M.
1986
The Fragility of Goodness: Luck and Ethics in Greek Tragedy and Philosophy
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).
Porter, B.N.
2000
'The Anxiety of Multiplicity: Concepts of Divinity as One and Many in
Ancient Assyria', in B.N. Porter (ed.), One God or Many? Concepts of
Divinity in the Ancient World (Transactions of the Casco Bay Assyriological
Institute, 1; Chebeague, ME: Casco Bay Assyriological Institute): 211-71.
Robertson, D.
1976
'The Bible as Literature', in IDBSup: 547-51.
1977
The Old Testament and the Literary Critic (Philadelphia: Fortress Press).
1984
'Tragedy, Comedy and the Biblea Response', in Exum (ed.) 1985:99-106.
Schlesinger, A.C.
1963
Boundaries of Dionysus: Athenian Foundations for the Theory of Tragedy
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press).
Vickers, B.
1973
Towards Greek Tragedy (London: Longman).
A PHRASE IN A PHOENICIAN PAPYRUS AND A

PROBLEM IN ISAIAH 5.14
J.A. Emerton
In 1968, a Phoenician (or possibly Punic) papyrus was discovered in a

tomb in Malta. It was published in 1975 by Tancredi C. Gouder and Benedetto Rocco, and was discussed further by Hans-Peter Miiller in 2001. The
papyrus was found in a bronze amulet, which is in the form of a falcon
representing Horus. Egyptian influence is also present in a drawing of Isis
on the papyrus. Gouder and Rocco date the talisman between the middle
of the seventh and the sixth centuries BC, and the papyrus in the sixth century (1975: 3, 18).
The papyrus contains five lines of text, of which parts of lines 3,4 and 5
are illegible. The present article is primarily concerned with a phrase in
line 1; and lines 1 and 2 contain enough clear readings to make it possible
to offer a translation and interpretation despite the uncertainty about four
letters.
Lines 1 and 2 contain the following words:
1.
2.
Gouder and Rocco mark the first three letters of line 2 as uncertain, yet
they regard M *? as the only possible reading (10). They also note the possibility that n in the same line could be read as D, but they prefer the former
reading.
Lines 1 and 2 are translated by Gouder and Rocco as follows:
1. Ridetevi, o forti d'animo, del vostro nemico,
2. fatevi beffe, fiaccate ed assalite 1'awersario.
In general Miiller accepts their translation of these lines, although he does

not follow them in every detail.
122
The second-person masculine plural suffix at the end of line 1 implies

that this line is addressed to a number of readers or hearers; and Gouder
and Rocco, followed by Miiller, interpret the verbs as masculine plural
imperatives. Since this kind of Phoenician script does not use vowel letters, the final vowel of the imperatives, which was presumably -u, is not
written. The parallelism between the two lines has suggested that they are
in verse (Miiller 2001: 263). Muller also compares the papyrus with Egyptian analogies and convincingly interprets it as instructions to the deceased
about the coming journey through the after-life and the dangers that it
threatens, especially that of a particular enemy, presumably some demonic
being. Because the suffix at the end of line 1 is plural, these are instructions to the dead in general, which are here offered to a particular deceased
individual.
The incomplete lines 3-5 raise various problems, but the two earlier
articles on the subject attempt to make such sense of them as they can.
Thus, Muller offers an interpretation of them in accordance with his interpretation of lines 1 and 2 and also notes possible traces of parallelism (25962). I am, however, interested primarily in a phrase in line 1, and I shall not
discuss lines 3-5; but certain words in lines 1 and 2 need some comment.
Line 1. The verb pnto (beginning with the letter sin) means 'to laugh' in
Hebrew, and it appears here to be used of laughing at the threat posed by
the enemy (cp. Ps. 2.4). However, in Hebrew the verb does not take a direct
object, and a preposition is expected before the noun denoting that at
which one laughs; but there is no such preposition in line 1 of the papyrus,
and it looks as if DD")U is the direct object. Muller (2001:256) draws attention to possible examples of the use of this verb with a pronominal suffix
in extra-biblical literature, and that suggests to him that the verb could take
a direct object. One of them is found in 1 IQPs" (=11Q5), col. 21, line 15
(= Sir. 51.18): HpniZJNI T11QT, which Muller translates 'ich sann darauf, mit
ihr (der Weisheit) zu spielen'. Garcia Martinez and Tigchelaar (1998:
1175) translate the words 'I determined to enjoy myself. The form of the
second word is identical with that of the cohortative, but the context is
concerned with a feminine noun, presumably wisdom, and a reference to it
is expected here. The letter he is therefore more likely to be a pronominal
suffix than the ending of the cohortative. It is also possible that the verb
here is not the one meaning 'to laugh'. Di Leila and Skehan (1987: 575)
explain it from Hebrew pnc? (with the letter shin, not sin), which BDB
(1006-1007) understands to mean 'rub away, beat fine, pulverize', and in
Sir. 6.36 'go often (wear by treading)'. Di Leila and Skehan (1987: 573,
EMERTON A Phrase in a Phoenician Papyrus
123
575) interpret Sir. 51.18 to mean literally 'I resolved to wear her down (by
treading)', or 'I resolved to tread her paths' (i.e. the paths of wisdom), and
they compare 6.36. Miiller (2001: 256) also compares an Aramaic
inscription from Hatra in which nnpPIIE is found, which he translates 'Du
hast iiber ihn (freundlich) gelachelt', but he observes in a footnote that this
word has also been explained as a form of the verb that begins with shin.
In any case, even if the verb with sin appears in both these passages, the
presence of a pronominal suffix does not necessarily prove that the verb is
taking a direct object. In Hebrew, at least, a pronominal suffix is sometimes
used to express what would have been a noun preceded by a preposition, if
the noun itself had been used rather than being represented by a suffix
(GKC, 117 x). It seems better simply to recognize the probability that the
verb in the Phoenician papyrus takes a direct object, although Hebrew
usage is different.
It is improbable that the verb in the papyrus is pFICJ with a shin, if
is the correct reading in the parallel line 2 (although W^ is not listed by
Hoftijzer and Jongeling as attested elsewhere in Phoenician). Miiller (2001:
255 n. 20) notes a number of verses in Hebrew in which 3U b and pntD (with
a sin, or its cognate pny) appear together: Pss. 2.4; 59.9; Jer. 20.7; Ezek.
23.32; Prov. 1.26; 2 Chron. 30.10 (Miiller says 30.7, but that must be a
slip of the pen); IQpHab, col. 4, lines 1-2, 6. He could have added Job
22.19 and Prov. 17.5.
Line 2. In the Hebrew Bible, wb takes a preposition with the object of
mockery. In line 2 of the papyrus, however, ITN may rather be the direct
object of "pi (or of n, if it is a verb). Gouder and Rocco take "pi to be a
form of the root "[11, and Miiller (2001: 259) rightly regards it as a polel.
(There is also a verb "pi in Aramaic, and the existence of the same root in
Hebrew is implied by the adjective ^1.) Hoftijzer and Jongeling (1995:
243) give the meaning 'to shatter', but they regard the reading and the interpretation here as uncertain. Gouder and Rocco, and also Miiller, understand
n to be the masculine plural imperative of the verb nn3, which is found
nowhere else in Phoenician, but in Hebrew means 'to lead, guide'. Miiller
(259), however, is conscious of the problem of finding a meaning that fits
the context of line 2, in which it appears to denote something hostile to
the enemy. He rightly objects to the view of Gouder and Rocco that it here
means 'to attack', and he suggests that it means 'to drive away' ('Vertreiben'): 'Zerschlagen' and 'Vertreiben' are, he thinks, alternative ways of
getting rid of the enemy. He claims (259 n. 42) that the meaning postulated is 'Zumindest ahnlich' when it is used of "Treiben" seitens des
124
Hirten' inPss. 23.3; 77.21; 78.53; andlsa. 63.14 (if the text is emended with
the help of the ancient versions). It may be doubted, however, whether leading, or even driving, sheep offers much support for the hostile meaning
demanded by the context. There is also a weighty objection to the whole
attempt to explain m as a conjunction followed by an imperative of HP!].
In Hebrew, the masculine singular of the imperative qal of this H"1? verb is
nnD (Exod. 32.34), and the masculine plural would be 1PID. It is not one of
the verbs in which the nun is assimilated in the imperfect and dropped in
the imperative (GKC, 66 b, c and 75 c). When nun is the first consonant
of a verb, it disappears in the imperative only when it is assimilated in the
imperfect (as in, for example, 2)33, NiD3, ]HD). The imperfect qal of this verb
is not attested in the Hebrew Bible, but the nun is not assimilated in the
imperfect hiphil. Further, as was noted above, this is a H"1? verb. It is unsatisfactory to explain this n in the papyrus by deriving it from a verb that
is attested in Hebrew but not elsewhere in Phoenician, and then postulating
a form that differs from the Hebrew. It is not surprising that Hoftijzer and
Jongeling (1995: 724) say of the derivation and translation offered by
Gouder and Rocco that they are a 'highly improvable] reading and interpret[ation]'.
Can another explanation of m be found? I can only venture the speculation that it is the name of some demonic being who is the enemy the
deceased is urged to deride. Perhaps his name was Wach or the like.
Unlike DD"liJ in line 1, IPN in line 2 lacks a pronominal suffix. However,
its absence can be explained as an example of the practice that, 'when a
pronominal suffix is attached to one noun, its force may be carried through
to the parallel noun, which may then dispense with the corresponding suffix' (Driver 1948:164-65). Driver offers examples in Ugaritic and Biblical
Hebrew.
The following tentative translation of lines 1-2 may be suggested:
1. Laugh, you who are strong of heart, at your adversary;
2. Mock, shatter Wach (?), (your) enemy.
II
I have left until now a consideration of the phrase 2^ TU, which causes no
problems, in line 1. The second word is, of course, a noun meaning 'heart',
and the first is an adjective which is found elsewhere in Phoenician and
which is cognate with the Hebrew adjective TIJ, meaning 'strong'. Here it
appears to be used in the construct plural. It is of interest to me because in
125
1967 I suggested an emendation of the last two words in Isa. 5.14 which
resulted in PO1? TI7, literally 'the strength of her heart'. I suggested that it
meant either 'her stubbornness' or 'her courage' (Emerton 1967: 142).
There is no need to discuss the former rendering here, for only the latter
is relevant to the papyrus under discussion. My evidence (141^42) for the
latter translation, 'her courage', was as follows. First, strength of heart is
the opposite of being afraid: when people are afraid, their hearts are said to
melt (Isa. 13.7; Deut. 20.3; Jer. 51 .46). Second, in1? fDK appears in Amos
2.16, and j'QK'1 is used of a heart exhibiting strength in Ps. 27.14 and
31.25. Further, those who are described as 3^ ''TDK in Ps. 76.6 and Isa.
46.12 are the courageous.
The context of the phrase H1? TU in the papyrus shows that it denotes
courage, rather than stubbornness. Miiller (2001 : 257) interprets the phrase
by comparing 31? ""TUN and "O1? ]"QN. He also mentions a passage in
which the verb HI? is used with "2 *? as the subject in a non-biblical text that
I had overlooked, CD 20.33: DD1? Tin, 'and their heart will be strong'. The
reference is to the time when the followers of the Teacher of Righteousness 'will prevail over all the sons of the world' (tan ''DD ta ta l^QTn).
I proposed the emendation rn1? TI? in Isa. 5.14 because of a difficulty in
the last two words of the verse:
Therefore Sheol has expanded her jaws,

And opened wide her mouth without measure,
And her splendour and her din will descend,
And her uproar, and he who exults in her.
An alternative way of construing the last line is to regard the antecedent

of the pronominal suffix in rn in the last line as Sheol, and to suppose that
it goes with 'descend' in the third line: 'will descend into her [i.e. into
Sheol]'. However, the fact that !~Q comes immediately after T ^17 suggests
that the two words are closely related in meaning, and favours the translation offered above. In any case, the principal problem of the verse remains
the same on either view of the significance of i"Q in the MT as it stands.
The third-person feminine singular suffixes in the first two lines have
Sheol as their antecedent, but obviously the antecedent of the third-person
feminine singular suffixes in the third and fourth lines must be different
(except perhaps in i"Q). Verse 14 speaks of someone's splendour, etc.,
126
descending into Sheol; and the fact that in some places Isaiah speaks of
God's judgment on the prophet's people and city leads the reader to suspect that the suffixes refer to Jerusalem. If so, the verse may be a fragment
that has lost its original context, in which Jerusalem was named. In that
case, it is unnecessary to change the vocalization of the suffix to an o vowel
(the third-person masculine singular suffix written in an archaic way with
the letter he}, and to suppose that the antecedent is ''QI? in v. 13 (there
would then be an inconsistency in the spelling of the suffix in 1TQD1 in
that verse). Anyhow, I shall work on the hypothesis that the suffixes under
discussion refer to Jerusalem.
After several abstract nouns ending with a third-person feminine singular
suffix, it is strange, indeed harsh, to find the adjective TÛ, and the problem is not solved by the hypothesis that the nouns are to be explained on
the principle of abstractum pro concrete. Some scholars have suggested
that the text should be emended (see Emerton 1967: 137). My suggestion
that mi1? TU should be read involves only the transposition of two letters
and the division of the two words in a different place.
I observed in my article (1967:141) that the noun D *? is nowhere else (in
the Old Testament) used with TI7, and I relied on analogies to support the
claim that 'the idiom would not have been improbable'. I had overlooked
the useoutside the Hebrew Bible, of coursein the Damascus Document of "^~> with the verb TTU. The Phoenician papyrus, which uses the
adjective TU with D1?, cannot prove the emendation to be correct, but it
increases the plausibility of the text resulting from the emendation. Isa.
5.14 speaks of Jerusalem's splendour, etc., descending into Sheol, and the
Phoenician papyrus probably refers to the journey of the deceased through
the after-life. It would, however, be claiming too much to see any significance in the fact that both passages refer to what happens after death. It is
enough to note that a phrase which I had conjectured in Isa. 5.14 is made
more plausible by the existence of a similar phrase in Phoenician.1
1. It is a pleasure to dedicate this article to David Clines, who has been a friend
for many years. I am grateful to Professors G.I. Davies and H.G.M. Williamson for
reading and commenting on drafts of the present article, and to Mr J.D. Ray for allowing me to consult him on Egyptological questions.
127
Bibliography
Di Leila, A., and P.W. Skehan
1987
The Wisdom of Ben Sira (AB, 39; New York: Doubleday).
Driver, G.R.
1948
'Hebrew Studies', Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society: 164-76.
Emerton, J.A.
1967
'The Textual Problems of Isaiah v 14', VT17: 135-42.
Garcia Martinez, F., and EJ.C. Tigchelaar
1997, 1998 The Dead Sea Scrolls Study Edition (2 vols.; Leiden: E.J. Brill).
Gouder, T.C., and B. Rocco
1975
'Un talismano bronzeo da Malta contenente un nastro di papiro con
iscrizione fenicia', Studi Magrebini 7: 1-18.
Hoftijzer, J., and K. Jongeling
1995
Dictionary of North- West Semitic Inscriptions (Handbuch der Orientalistik,
Erste Abteilung, 21; 2 vols.; Leiden: E.J. Brill).
Muller, H.-P.
2001
'Bin phonizischer Totenpapyrus aus Malta', JSS 46: 251-65.
SONG OF SONGS AS AN 'ANSWER' TO CLINES'S BOOK OF JOB*

Tamara Cohn Eskenazi
Carl Jung, in his provocative book, Answer to Job (Jung 1960), insists on
the inadequacy of God's verbal answer to Job in the book of Job. The real
answer to Job, Jung concludes, is the incarnation: Job's confrontation with
God in the book of Job triggers developments that cause God to seek to
become human. This change in consciousness leads to the incarnation and
culminates in the holy marriage depicted at the end of the book of Revelation.
Jung approaches the Bible as a unified story, as the record of the development of consciousness, tracing its development in the order in which the
books are arranged in the Bible, basing his analysis on the Christian Bible.
If Jung's insight is valid, then what kind of an answer does the Hebrew
Bible offer, given that the incarnation and the book of Revelation are not
part of it? This paper explores the ways Song of Songs 'answers' Jung's
questions in Job and further examines what the juxtaposition of Job and
Song of Songs contributes to David Clines's readings of the book of Job.
1. Jung's Answer to Job
Jung focuses on the incongruity of God's answer from the whirlwind, an
answer that completely ignores the issues that have been raised by Job and
by his situation. Job, after all, asks questions about the injustice in the
world in general and the injustice of his own sufferings in particular (Job
10.2-3, for example). God responds with a series of rhetorical questions
This paper is a segment of a larger work to be titled, 'Song of Songs as an
Answer to Job' (forthcoming). An early version of this paper was delivered at the 1981
Annual Meeting of SBL and occasioned my first meeting with David Clines. My plans
to revise the paper for publication were repeatedly interrupted. These delays now
enable me to contribute this paper in honor of a dear friend, whose work, including his
superb commentary on Job, has been a constant inspiration.
ESKENAZI Song of Songs as an 'Answer'
129
that do nothing more than extol God's power and accentuate Job's nothingness, merely flaunting 'almightiness' in front of Job:
Where were you when I founded the earth? (38.4)
Did you ever command a morning,
Post dawn in its place...? (38.12)
Have you an arm like God,
Can you thunder with a voice like his? (40.9)
As Jung notes, none of this is pertinent to the issues at hand. After all, Job
'never doubted God's might, but has hoped for right as well' (Jung 1960:
43). Job is all too keenly aware of God's power, having just become its
victim. He does not question God's might; he questions God's 'right' or
righteousness. To this question he receives no genuine answer.
Job is silent at the end of the book not because he has been convinced of
God's right, but because he gets a glimpse of God's amoral nature and
recognizes the futility of further questions. The irrelevance of God's
answer to Job in the book of Job, and the incongruity of the situation, lead
Jung to look elsewhere in the Bible for a more adequate answer to Job,
approaching the Bible thematically and as a whole. He views it as the expression of the collective unconscious and a record of the development of
consciousness.
Jung treats the various books in the Bible as chapters in one, unified
story, with a definite plot line.1 Using this framework, Jung suggests that
even though Job receives no adequate final answer, something consequential does take place. The encounter between God and Job discloses a morally superior human being to a God who has been an amoral, blind force.
This collision between Job and God produces important changes in God
and a dawning of a new consciousness.
An important sign of this change is found in the reappearance of wisdom, Hokmd/Sophia (a feminine noun in both Hebrew and Greek). Jung
notes her appearance on the scene in the book of Proverbs which follows
Job in Jung's Bible (see especially Prov. 8.22). This wisdom is God's
feminine aspect. She has been at God's side from the very beginning, says
Proverbs (Prov. 8.22), but is only now called upon to participate actively
in the transformation that ensues.
Jung contends:
1. This approach has been successfully emulated by Jack Miles' s award-winning
God: A Biography (Miles 1995).
130

The reappearance of Sophia in the heavenly regions points to a coming act
of creation... A momentous change is imminent: God desires to regenerate
himself in the mystery of heavenly nuptial...and to become man (Jung
1960: 73-74).
Two motives fuel God's desire to become human: (a) God's wish to
emulate the superior humanity of Job; (b) God's wish to atone for the
unjust sufferings inflicted on innocent Job (Jung 1960: 98). The incarnation expresses and fulfills the first of these wishes and the death on the
cross fulfills the other. But the story does not end there. It is still necessary
.to reconcile and unite God's inner antimony, which was revealed in the
encounter with Job. The story, therefore, continues all the way to the end
of the book of Revelation, in which we find what Jung calls a 'uniting
symbol'. This uniting symbol, the marriage of the Lamb and his bride (Rev.
19.7), or, as Jung puts it, the Son and the Mother/Bride, or God and Sophia,
is a union of opposites. Its harmony signals the integration of opposing
components and expresses wholeness. For Jung, this holy marriage at the
end of Revelation indicates a successful resolution of the events and issues
raised by the book of Job.
Jung does not claim to be a biblical scholar and refers to himself as 'a
layman in things theological' (Jung 1960:190). Nevertheless, some important scholars and theologians concur with his focus on the incongruity in
Job and the amoral nature of God's response. J. William Whedbee (Whedbee 1977; see also 1998), for instance, makes incongruity in the book of
Job the keystone of his innovative interpretation of Job. He writes:
I would argue that the irony and incongruity of the Yahweh speeches are
best interpreted as elements in a comic vision. As interpreters have often
noted, Yahweh's answer to Job is NO answerat least it is not an unambiguous answer. Incongruity is involved, however one chooses finally to
deal with that incongruity (Whedbee 1977: 25).
M. Tsevat interprets God's answer this way:

'Divine justice is not an element of reality. It is a figment existing only in
the misguided philosophy with which you have been inculcated. The world
in which you and the friends are spun is a dream. Wake up, Job!' And wake
up is what Job does in the end (Tsevat 1966: 100).
John Curtis adds that Job rejects God's answer (Curtis 1979:498), and concludes that 'It becomes clear that the Yahweh speech, rather than solving
Job's problem, only makes it far worse. The very issue that had troubled Job
has been reinforced; he had felt that God had great power but no justice'
(Curtis 1979: 511).
131
Jung, then, is clearly not alone in responding as he does to the incongruity of God's words to Job. Nor is he alone in approaching the Scriptures
as a developing story.2 The significance of context and the way adjacent
texts comment upon each other have shaped much in contemporary literary and structural analyses as well as rabbinic interpretation in antiquity. It
is not even necessary to treat Job as an incomplete unit in order to recognize it as an integral and necessary componenta building blockwithin
the larger unit. As Landy puts it, 'No text is isolated, self-sufficient. None
can be understood without reference to others' (1979: 516; see also 1983).
Canonical sequence is not innocent of meaning. Compare the theological
message made by the Christian Bible's narrative where Malachiwith its
prediction of Elijah heralding the day of YHWH (Mai. 4.5)ends the Old
Testament, to be followed immediately by Matthew, with its genealogy and
its account of John the Baptizer. Compare this canonical order with the
different metanarrative of the Hebrew Bible, where Psalms follows Malachi and Chronicles' exhortation to 'go up' concludes the entire collection.
The context, then, is important; it, too, tells a story. As Brevard Childs
points out:
The ordering of the tradition for this new function involved a profoundly
hermeneutical activity, the effects of which are now built into the structure
of the canonical text. For this reason an adequate interpretation of the
biblical text, both in terms of history and theology, depends on taking the
canonical shape with great seriousness (Childs 1979: 60).
2. Song of Songs as an Answer to Job

What sort of an answer to Job does the Hebrew Bible offer, given Jung's
premise that no satisfactory answer is given in the book of Job?
Looking at what has become the normative Jewish canon, now commonly known as Tanakh, one notes two important differences from the
Christian canon: First, obviously, the Tanakh does not include the New Testament. Thus the incarnation and the holy marriage of Revelation, alleged
to be an adequate answer to Job, cannot serve as an answer in the Hebrew
canon. Second, in the Tanakh, Proverbs precedes Job and Song of Songs
directly follows it. Thus wisdom/hokmd is not a result of the encounter
between God and Job as it is for Jung. Instead, feminine wisdom in the Jewish sequence leads up to the confrontation that occurs in the book of Job
(note too the provocative role of Job's wife); it is more responsible for
2.
See, e.g., Miles 1995.
132
posing the question than representing a part of its resolution. Job emerges
therefore as 'a revolt of wisdom' (Perdue 1991).
What, then, are the possible ways in which Song of Songs, placed where
it is, can be conceived as an answer to Job from within the Hebrew Bible?
Song of Songs offers a number of possible answers to and resolutions of
the issues raised in the book of Job because the Song elicits a wide range
of meanings and symbols, resulting in a multiplicity of possible interpretations.
The central theme of the Song is clear: the Song is primarily about love
and about lovers. Most debates revolve around the identity of these lovers.
Are they allegorical or are they 'historical'? Is the Song about the love of
God and Israel (as in Jewish tradition) or the love of Christ and the Church
(as in Christian tradition)? Is the relationship between the soul and God or,
as in medieval Jewish mysticism, the active and passive intellect? Are the
lovers a couple reenacting ancient cultic practices or are they 'every
woman' and 'every man' celebrating their marriage? All of these possibilities are subject to discussion but cluster around the centrality of the theme
of love.
This centrality of love, and the particular ways in which this love is
depicted, make possible several distinct interpretations of Song of Songs
as an answer to Job.
a. Song of Songs as an Answer to Jung's Job
Song of Songs contains numerous Jungian symbols and motifs. The garden (5.1), the rivers (5.15), the dream states (5.2) and the different roles
which the lovers project onto each other as they journey or move towards
one another (4.9)all of these invite fruitful Jungian analysis. But the
most important of these is the celebration of love and the union of male
and female. In Jungian terms, such a union of opposites is a symbol of
wholeness. It is the symbol and the process of integrating the 'otherness'
into a harmony and a completion. It is precisely this symbol, coniunctio
oppositorum, which Jung identifies as the culmination in the book of
Revelation and the ultimate outcome of God's answer to Job (Jung 1960:
630). The drive to union of opposites in the Song parallels the reconciliation which Jung finds in the book of Revelation, and which, for Jung, constitutes a successful resolution of the problem of Job.
In the Jewish Bible this unification takes place early, immediately after
the confrontation in the book of Job, before the tension between God and
humanity (or within God, given God's dual nature) reaches the cosmic
133
dimensions that it does in Jung's analysis of the Bible. Song of Songs,

then, with its motif of the union of lovers functions in an analogous manner to the book of Revelation in the New Testamentbut without necessitating the apocalyptic upheavals that precede such a union in Revelation.
When we read the Bible as Jung does, that is, as a story about God's
developing consciousness, we find in the Hebrew Bible a different plot
line from the one Jung describes on the basis of his Christian Bible. In the
Hebrew Bible God's consciousness is first prompted by wisdom (hence
the book of Proverbs). Wisdom and the feminine are thus not a result of
the encounter with Job, as Jung suggests, but a causal factor in God's
ability to be engaged with Job. The book of Job (which follows Proverbs
in the Hebrew Bible) then becomes the challenge and the emergence of a
new consciousness. Finally, Song of Songs becomes the response to that
challenge of the book of Job, modeling a conjunction of opposites (which
Jung finds in Revelation) as a dialogue of lovers, without combative aspects.
b. Song of Songs as an Alternative to the Inadequate Resolution in the
Book of Job
This interpretation suggests that, given the inconclusive nature of God's
answer to Job in the book of Job, the problem of suffering cannot be adequately handled by confronting God. Nor can wisdom satisfactorily resolve
or solve the problem. Wisdom can only help articulate the problemhence
the book of Proverbsand offers important insights. But the answer to the
problem of suffering, given the coupling of Job and Song of Songs, is something to be faced existentially, confronted through intimate and concrete
relationships based on love. For, 'love is strong as death' (Song 8.6).
c. The Return to the Garden as Song of Songs' Answer to Job
Both Job and Song of Songs employ creation elements from Genesis 1-3.3
There are different ways the connection between Job and Song of Songs
can be construed in relation to Genesis. One such reading will be examined here: the paradigm of temptation (others will follow in Section 3).
Several interpreters focus on the parallels between the temptation in the
garden of Eden and the testing of Job. Chrysostom pointed out some of
these relationships in the Homily on the Power of Man to Resist the Devil,
comparing Adam, Eve and the Serpent with Job, his wife and Satan. He
argues that Job's trial is far more grievous than Adam's, Job's temptation
3. On Job's echoes of Genesis 1-3, see especially Whedbee 1998 and Keller 2002:
ch. 7.
134
by his wife more persuasive than Adam's, and Satan more powerful than
the serpent. Yet Adam was defeated and Job emerged a conqueror.4 Job's
own speech already calls our attention to Adam when, at the climax, he
contrasts his own behavior with Adam's: 'Did I hide my transgressions
like Adam...?' (31.33 NJPSV).5
If Adam's failure leads to the loss of paradise for himself and for all
humankind, what happens when Job succeeds in maintaining his faithfulness? One expects a comparable restoration not only for himself (as in Job
42.10-17) but for others as well.6 That such consequences ensue is, of
course, Jung's point, with the incarnation as one of these. Song of Songs,
which follows Job, suggests another far-reaching consequence, namely a
restoration of access to the prohibited 'garden of Eden'.
As Phyllis Trible notes, Song of Songs recreates the garden of Eden in
historical time and space and reverses what has 'gone awry' in Genesis 13. Trible reads Song of Songs as, among other things, an invitation 'to
enter a garden of delight' (Trible 1978: 144). She calls Genesis 2-3 'the
hermeneutical key with which I unlock this garden'. For Trible, Song of
Songs 'redeems' the debacle in the garden, hence her title 'Love's Lyrics
Redeemed', for the chapter on the Song, following 'A Love Story Gone
Awry' for Genesis 2-3 (Trible 1978: 144 and 72).
The two texts center on the garden. In both man and woman share the
garden harmoniously with the animals. In Genesis, the animals, as foils,
'participated in the creation of woman and provided a context for the total
joy of 'ish and 'ishshah. In Canticles, their names become explicit as does
their contextual and metaphorical participation in the encounter of the
lovers' (Trible 1973: 43). Thus ravens, doves, goats and other animals
become metaphors for the lovers themselves (see, e.g., 4.1-2; 5.11-12).
There are other elements in common, such as work as a source of joy,
disrupted only by disobedience (Trible 1973: 44).
The most important parallel between Genesis 2-3 and the Song is the
manner in which both affirm the mutuality of the sexes. 'There is no male
4. Nahum Glatzer 1977: 25. The rabbis, too, see a relationship between Adam and
Job and comment on the fact that Job did not listen to his wife, as did Adam (Gen. R.
19.12).
5. An alternative translation reads 'adam not as a reference to the first man but as
a generic human being. Thus NRSV has 'concealed my transgressions as others do'.
6. The use of the root 'return' in Job 42.10 is also a clue that more is to be expected. For a discussion, see the longer version of this paper, 'Song of Songs as an
Answer to Job' (forthcoming).
135
dominance, no female subordination, and no stereotyping of either sex'

(Trible 1978:161)at least not until the 'Fall', when inequality and strife
enter the picture. The Song, however, reverses this 'Fall', and the term
'desire' illustrates this reversal. As Trible points out, the word 'desire' appears in the Hebrew Bible only three times (Gen. 3.16; 4.7; and Song
7.10). In Genesis it signals punishment and inequality. In the Song it is a
joy, not a judgment (Trible 1978:159-60). Moreover, as desire of the male
lover for the female, it reconfigures the relationship. Trible asks: 'Has one
mark of sin in Eden been overcome here in another garden with the recovery of mutuality in love? Male dominance is totally alien to Canticles. Can
it be that grace is present?' (Trible 1973: 36). Trible concludes:
Let us stress that these lovers are not the primeval couple living before the
advent of disobedience. Nor are they an eschatological couple, as Karl
Barth would have us believe. They live in the 'terror of history' (Eliade),
but their love knows not that terror. To be sure, the poetry hints of threats to
their paradise... But all these discordant notes blend into the total harmony
of love. If death did not swallow the primeval couple, neither does it overpower the historical couple. 'Love is strong as death' (8.6)... Whatever else
it may be, Canticles is a commentary on Genesis 2-3. Paradise Lost is Paradise Regained (Trible 1973: 46-47).
This interpretation of Song of Songs, combined with the interpretation

of Job as a reversal of Adam's temptation, leads to the following typology:
as the action of the rebellious man, Adam, resulted in the expulsion of
humanity from paradise, so the behavior of the pious and innocent Job can
be seen as leading to the restoration of paradise that we find in Song of
Songs. Job's faithfulness becomes the occasion of reconciliation and the
reason for the reversal depicted in the Song. The full answer to Job is not
found in God's words to Job, nor even in God making Godself present to
Job by responding. The answer is in the reversal and restoration of the
possibility of the garden of Eden on earth that Song of Songs describes.
3. Song of Songs as an Answer to Clines 's Job
All readers of biblical texts, as of any other texts, bring their own interests,
prejudices, and presuppositions with them. While they would be wrong to
insist that the Bible should say what they want it to say, they would be
equally wrong to think that it does not matter, in reading the Bible, what
they themselves already believe (Clines 1989: xlvii).
Clines has advocated a conscious 'left to right' reading of biblical texts

alongside 'right to left' readings (Clines 1990), and demonstrates the rich-
136
ness of such 'ambidextrous' approaches. As for Job, it may be premature

to speak about Clines's 'Book of Job' before the final volume of his Job
commentary appears. Fortunately, however, we already have a polyphony
of Clines's readings that justify a dialogue with Clines's Job and Song of
Songs. Each of these readings highlights a different dimension of Job, and
is capable of eliciting a different canonical response from similar 'readings' of Song of Songs.
a. Job's Final Words
Although Clines's own final words on Job are not yet available, his unique
translation of Job's final words offer a clue. According to Clines, Job at
the end neither denies nor repents but expresses awe and satisfaction:
Therefore I melt in reverence before you,
and I have received my comfort,
even while sitting in dust and ashes (Job 42.6).
Clines suggests that Job's religion and theology 'are suddenly able to
cohere' (Clines 1989: xlvi). God still remains ultimately unknowable and
God's reasons 'in the last analysis incomprehensible' (xlvi). Now, however:
Job finds this position acceptable, even actually comforting: to bow in awe
before a mysterious God he cannot grasp... This is the Job of the prologue,
but with a difference: the religious instinct is now supported by a theological realignment. Now he not only feels, but also has come to believe, that it
makes sense that God should not be wholly amenable to human reason. It
was the theology of wild animals that convinced him, the inexplicability of
whole tracts of the natural order, the apparent meaninglessness of creatures
useless to humankind but unquestionably created by God nevertheless
(Clines 1989: xlvii).
We can read Song of Songs as an exposition on a life lived with such a

reverent acceptance of God's inscrutability, disclosed via a theology of
wild animals. The incomprehensibility of God and the acceptance of limits
require a shift in orientation to the earthly, more confined arena of human
interaction. New energies are marshaled to address the impenetrable world
of the unfathomed, yet accepted world of the Joban dialogue. The wild
animals in YHWH'S speeches illustrate the need for a new kind of
integration of self with the world, the human and non-human world, that
is. Reintegration begins in the book of Job by Job getting off the ash heap
and rejoining community. It continues in fresh ways when, together, lovers
in Song of Songs retreat from the place of the 'wild things' that God's
137
speeches invoke, to the sphere of the possible, sense-making human relations, as an answer to what God no longer can supply.
Song of Song's answer is a call to celebration, with the focus on the
otherthis time the human otherin a dialogue of love. From the grand
cosmic questions, hurled heavenward and back to earth, the focus shifts to
the search for the other and the discovery of the other in an earthly love.
This resolution can be understood in at least two ways. It conveys either
that human love is a haven from theological and social injustice that cannot be rectified, or that the capacity to love is the beginning step for rectifying that which has been exposed in Job as troubling and hurtful but not
removed by God. The capacity for love is released by the awe that Clines
perceives in Job's last words, with the Song as 'the rekindling of a passion
for life' (Walsh 2000: 7).
b. A Feminist Reading
Clines, in wrestling with 'A Feminist Reading', points out the injustices
inflicted upon Job's wifeboth by God in the story and by the narrator
(Clines 1989: xlviii-1). He also touches on the concluding mention of the
three daughters and their inheritance (without reference to their names)
and ends with the astute feminist question as to whether the book's
'principal concern is in any way a gender-determined one' (1).
If it is difficult to imagine an alternative version of the book in which all the
protagonists were female and in which at the same time the principal issue
arising from the loss of family, social standing and reputation was the
doctrine of retribution and the justice of God, then to that extent the book,
however sublime a literary work, may be defective, as yet another expression of an uncritical androcentricity (Clines 1989:1).
As if overhearing Clines's challenge, Song of Songs offers a response: a

book in which protagonists are largely females and the solution to life's
losses and possibilities is not construed in litigious questions about
retribution. To the feminist question whether Job is androcentric, the Song
responds by inserting the mother's house as the locus of security and safety
and origin of possibilities. It replaces the so-called dialogue of antagonistsJob and his friends or Job and Godwith women's questions.
Voices and lives suppressed in Job burst forth in melodic poetry in the
Song, with daughters celebratingnot opposinga woman's quest (5.9).
Far from shutting out female expression in the manner of Job's retort to
his wife, the woman in the Song is celebrated for her speech (2.14) and
male dialogue is replaced with female dialogue as the dominant discourse.
138
The major concern is not retribution or loss of family but rather reinforcement of family relation through love and the discovery of 'the other' as the
basis for equitable and adequate human relations. Social standing and
reputation in the Song give way to the determination of lovers to seek
intimacy even at the cost of transgressing conventions and courting social
strictures by the 'guardians of the walls' (Song 3 and 5).7
In all these ways, the Song 'remedies' some of the ills that the book of
Job perpetrates and constitutes an alternative to the questions and answers
posed in Job. The reintegration that began in Job with the naming of his
daughters is enlarged when the women blossom in the Song as they also
find voice and vocation.
c. A Vegetarian Reading of Job and Song of Songs
The verdant world of the Song is yet another answer to Job. In 'A Vegetarian Reading' (Clines 1989:1-lii), Clines asks whether Job 'uncritically
adopts the attitude of a carnivorous culture toward animals, or whether in
any way the text undermines those attitudes by a more positive estimation
of animals' (1). He notes the places where animals play a significant role
and concludes that at the end animals serve as an analogy to the 'inexplicable elements of the moral order of the world' (li). Clines concludes that
in the view of the book of Job, 'proper estimation of the animal creation is
essential for coping with certain of the riddles of human existence' (lii).
From the depiction of the animals as a challenge and analogy for moral
order, the Song moves to animals as metaphors for human love and
relationswild yet gentle, they give language to embodied love. If in Job
they explicate a mystery of God, in the Song they articulate the mystery of
lovers, not merely accepting such mystery but celebrating the inexplicable.
d. A Materialist Reading of Job and Song of Songs
In his 'Materialistic Reading' (Clines 1989: lii-liv) Clines writes that a
'materialist approach argues that literature is written, to a greater or lesser
extent, to support the interests of the social class of its author' (lii). Job,
Clines concludes, is a rich person's book, exploring a rich person's question, namely, retribution and Job's concern with status. The book does not
'envisage poverty as a moral criticism of wealth' (liii).
How refreshing it is, then, to move into the world of the Song. Song of
Songs takes on a radically different position vis-a-vis wealth and undercuts
7. Admittedly, it is the woman, not the man, who takes the risk and suffers the
consequences.
139
the assumptions of Job. Solomon's glory is now ridiculed; instead, the

materiality of the body is affirmed. Measuring love by economic categories
or possessions (8.7) is explicitly scorned (scorn remains whether the poet
is criticizing a society that does not appreciate the man who foregoes
wealth for the sake of love or the one who thinks money can buy love). It
is noteworthy that the repeated denial of the power of wealth concentrates
in the Song at the enda suggestive antidote to the materialistic conclusion of Job in Job 42.
At the same time, the material nature of our life is not ignored when a
reconciled Job gets off the ash heap and finds comfort in the human realm.
Companionship and food (in that order) come first (42.11), and brothers
and sisters stand out as the context for that restoration. Family language
resumes and heals. Family relations8 and friends form the binding and nurturing web of love and life in Song of Songs, as lovers envision each other
as siblings (4.9) and invoke the mother as a source of teaching and support
(3.4).
4. Conclusion
One could develop additional responses to Clines's Job to correspond to

the other, multivalent readings of Job by Clines;9 but enough has been said
to illustrate how the canonical shaping invites us to consider the contiguities as well as complementarity that bind Job and Song of Songs in the
Hebrew Bible. The two extensive poetic dialogues in the Bible, placed
side by side in the Tanakh, are point and counterpoint. Clines's tantalizing
title of a paper delivered some years ago asks: 'Why Is There a Song of
Songs and What Does It Do to You If You Read It?' (Clines 1995: 94121). With this essay I give one of many possible answers to Clines's question. Song of Songs exists so that when we have reached the limits of a
dialogue with God10 we might turn and face each other and perceive anew
what it means to have been created in the image of God. In the yawning
void of God's subsequent silence we have the Song and its poets to carry
forth the dialogue.11
8. Family relations are not romanticized, however. Note the conflict with the
brothers (1.6).
9. See, e.g., Clines 1995: 122-44; 1989: liv-lvi.
10. As Miles points out, God never speaks after the book of Job (1995: 338).
11. I thank my beloved dialogue partner, Bill Whedbee, for his insightful comments
on this paper.
140
Bibliography
Childs, B.S.
1979
Clines, D.J.A.
1989
1990
1995
1998
Curtis, J.
1979
Glatzer, N.
1977
Jung, C.G.
1960
Keller, C.
2002
Landy, F.
1979
1983
Miles, J.
1995
Perdue, L.
1991
Trible, P.
1973
1978
Tsevat, M.
1966
Walsh, C.E.
2000
Introduction to the Old Testament as Scripture (London: SCM Press).

Job 1-20 (WBC, 17; Waco, TX: Word Books).
'Reading Esther from Left to Right: Contemporary Strategies for Reading a
Biblical Text', in D.J.A Clines, S.E. Fowl and S.E. Porter (eds.), The Bible in
Three Dimensions: Essays in Celebration of Forty Years of Biblical Studies in
the University of Sheffield (JSOTSup, 87; Sheffield: JSOT Press): 22-42.
On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998 (2 vols.;
JSOTSup, 292-93; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press).
'On Job's Response to Yahweh', JBL: 497-511.
The Dimensions of Job (New York: Schocken Books).
Answer to Job (Cleveland/New York: Meridian Books).
The Face of the Deep (London: Routledge).
'The Song of Songs and the Garden of Eden', JBL 98: 513.
Paradoxes of Paradise: Identity and Difference in the Song of Songs (Bible
and Literature Series, 7; Sheffield: Almond Press).
God: A Biography (New York: Alfred A. Knopf).
Wisdom in Revolt: Metaphorical Theology in the Book of Job (Bible and Literature Series, 29; JSOTSup, 112; Sheffield: Almond Press).
'Depatriarchalizing in Biblical Interpretation', JAAR 42: 30-48.
God and the Rhetoric of Sexuality (Philadelphia: Fortress Press).
'The Meaning of the Book of Job', HUCA 37: 73-106.
Exquisite Desire: Religion, the Erotic, and the Song of Songs (Minneapolis:
Fortress Press).
Whedbee, J.W.
'The Comedy of Job', Semeia 7: 1-39.
1977
1998
The Bible and the Comic Vision (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).
'THE VOICE OFMY LOVER':

DOUBLE VOICE AND POETIC ILLUSION IN SONG OF SONGS 2.8-3.5
J. Cheryl Exum
In Song 2.8-17 the female protagonist recounts a visit by her lover to her
house and his invitation to her to join him outdoors, where spring's arrival
is announced by flowers coming into bloom, birdsong, budding vines and
fragrance in the air. This section of the Song of Songs ends as it begins, in
an image of sexual energy, with the man leaping over mountains like a
gazelle or young deer. In Song 3.1-5 she describes her nocturnal search for
her lover and its resolution when she finds him, and then she addresses the
women of Jerusalem, placing them under oath not to awaken or disturb
love until it is ready. Although there is a break between 2.17 and 3.1 and
the mood changes, I take 2.8-17 and 3.1-5 as one long, sustained speech
by the woman (or, we might say, a speech in two parts or two movements).
Taken together, 2.8-17 and 3.1-5 bear a remarkable similarity to 5.2-6.3, a
tightly constructed and clearly articulated unit within the Song, where these
two scenesthe lover's visit and the seeking and findingare merged into
one.1 Here in our passage, these two scenes are merely juxtaposed instead
of interwoven. If, however, we view the lover's coming and going in the
first scene as a variation of the seeking-and-finding motif in the second,
the juxtaposition becomes less jarring than it first appears. Both scenes are
poetic acts of conjuring (see below).
Something new and, in terms of the unfolding of the poem, extraordinary
happens in 2.8-3.5.1 The woman tells a story, or juxtaposes two stories,
each with a narrative movement and a sense of closure, a tension and a
resolutionin other words, with a plot. Indeed 2.8-3.5 and its counterpart
5.2-6.3 have more of a plot line than any other parts of the Song. Here in
1. For details, see Exum 1973: 56-59, but taking the beginning of the unit as 2.8
rather than 2.7.
2. In the interest of space, I focus here primarily on 2.8-17; by 'the poem' I refer
to the Song of Songs in its entirety.
142
2.8, for the first time, the Song of Songs acknowledges the presence of a
narrator, a narrator who is also a character, as distinguished from the poet
as narrator, whose narrative presence throughout the Song is deftly
effaced. The poet puts words into the woman's mouth, creating her speech
(2.8-3.5) in which she puts words into her lover's mouth, creating his
speech (in 2.10-14). Even when using a narrator whose presence is evident
(to the point of such an obvious sign of narration as 'my lover answered
and said to me', v. 10), the poet maintains what I call the illusion of immediacythe impression that, far from being simply reported, the action is
taking place in the present, unfolding before the reader's very eyes (Exum
1999a: 48-51). This poetic strategy is, in my view, central to the Song's
poetic power and effectiveness and to its romantic vision of love as 'strong
as death'. Captured on the page as ever in process, the lovers' desire is
perpetual, it cannot fade, and the poet's vision of love is actualized whenever we read the poem.
2.8
2.9
2.10
2.11
2.12
2.13
2.14
Listen! My lover!
Look! He's coming,
leaping over the mountains,
bounding over the hills.
My lover is like a gazelle
or young deer.
Look! He's standing outside our wall,
peering in through the windows,
peeking through the lattice.
My lover answered and said to me,
'Rise up, my friend, my fair one,
and come away,
for look, the winter is past,
the rains are over and gone.
Blossoms are seen in the land;
the time of singing has arrived,
and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.
The fig tree ripens its first fruit,
and the budding vines give forth fragrance.
Rise up, my friend, my fair one,
and come away,
my dove in the clefts of the rock,
in the covert of the cliff.
Let me see you,
let me hear your voice,
for your voice is sweet,
and you are lovely.'
EXUM 'The Voice of My Lover'
143
2.15 Catch us foxes,

little foxes,
spoilers of vineyards,
for our vineyards are in bloom.
2.16 My lover is mine and I am his
who grazes among the lilies.
2.17 When the day breathes
and the shadows flee,
turn, my love, be like a gazelle
or a young deer
upon the cleft mountains.
3.1
3.2
3.3
3.4
3.5
On my bed night after night,

I have sought my soul's beloved.
I sought him but I did not find him.
I will rise now and go about the city,
in the streets and in the squares;
I will seek my soul's beloved.
I sought him but I did not find him.
The watchmen found me,
those who go the rounds of the city.
My soul's belovedhave you seen him?
Scarcely had I passed them,
when I found my soul's beloved.
I caught hold of him and would not let him go
until I had brought him to my mother's house,
to the chamber of her who conceived me.
I place you under oath, women of Jerusalem,
by the gazelles or does of the open field,
not to arouse or awaken love
until it wishes.3
The illusion of immediacy is achieved in the woman's speech through a

combination of poetic techniques: (1) the use of riDH ('look!') as a focalizer of present action, (2) the reliance on what I call the erotic imperative,
the call to love by means of imperatives and vocatives that give the impression of the lovers' presence at the moment of utterance ('rise up, my friend,
my fair one, and come away', 'let me see', 'let me hear', 'turn, my love,
be like a gazelle'), and (3) the prominence given to participles to capture
action in process (the man is leaping over the mountains, bounding over the
hills, standing outside the wall, peering in through the windows, peeking
3. Translation mine; for discussion, see my forthcoming commentary. I am indebted
to Fox (1985) for the apt translation of "EJE3 mnNKJ PIN as 'my soul's beloved'.
144
through the lattice, his activity arrested in time). When the woman quotes
her lover, it is as if we are overhearing him, so unobtrusive is the double
narratorial voice, the poet telling us what the woman is telling us that the
man is saying.
Another defining feature of the Song's poetic artistry that comes to the
fore in 2.8-3.5 is the conjuring up of the loved one and letting him/her
disappear (so that the conjuring can begin again) (see Exum 1999a: 51 -56).
Through the woman's speech the man's voice is heard (2.8,10-14). First
heard, then seen at a distance, he materializes through her poetic powers of
representation (i.e., those of the poet who puts this speech in her mouth).
She brings her lover to her house from afar (in w. 8-9) only to send him
away (v. 17) in what is not really a sending away. Between 2.17 and 3.1 it
seems that he is not there, and she seeks him, cannot find him, seeks and
finally finds him (3.1-5). Conjuring up her lover is what the woman does
in both 2.8-17 and 3.1-5, in an unending game of seeking and finding, of
desiring and experiencing satisfaction, that mirrors the rhythms of love.
Ultimately it is the poet's game, an attempt to embody desire through seductive language and erotic imagery, by means of signifiers that both denote
and seek to overcome the absence of the signified, the lovers (see Brooks
1993:7-8).
At key points in her story, the woman's narrative presence is as adeptly
effaced as the poet's own presence throughout the poem. Her voice not
only distinguishes itself as that of a narrator and a character in her own narration, it also merges with the poet's (as its creator) and her lover's (when
she quotes him). The distinction between past and present is blurred; for
example, the lover spoke, yet we hear him speaking ('rise up, my friend...
and come away', 2.10-14); the watchmen found the woman, and we hear
her questioning them ('My soul's belovedhave you seen him?', 3.3).
The artistry of the entire speech is exceedingly complex, the result seems
effortlessa mark of a great poet, as another great poet, William Butler
Yeats, has put it so well: 'A line will take us hours maybe; /Yet if it does
not seem a moment's thought, /Our stitching and unstitching has been
naught' ('Adam's Curse').
The story the woman tells may have a plot of sorts, but it is no less lyric
poetry than the rest of the Song. We should not therefore expect it to follow the conventions of prose narrative, which is what Roland Murphy
(among many others) seems to do when he calls 2.8-17 a 'reminiscence'
on the part of the woman and speaks of the man as 'present to her at least
in the memory of the visit which she is evoking' (1990:140) and 'present
145
at least in spirit' (142). To be sure, insofar as the woman is recounting

what her lover said to her, she is reminiscing. Interestingly, the reminiscence hangs entirely on only four words in the Hebrew: "*"? "IQN1 "Hll n3I7
('my-lover answered and-spoke to-me'). Without this line, we would have
a continuation of the pattern established at the beginning of the Song (1.22.7), in which alternating speeches are presented as direct discourse, and
so appear to be taking place in the present. The effect of the words 'my
lover answered and spoke to me' on the status of the speech in 2.8-17 is
remarkable, but for all the pressure they exert on its meaning, they do not
control the whole speech in the sense that they place the woman's entire
narrative in the past. The immediacy effect works as a counter-pressure
against the reminiscence effect.
The beginning of the woman's speech (v. 8) is vividly situated in the
present (the lover is approaching). The narrated story that follows (what the
man said) is transformed, through the illusion of immediacy, into the present, as we overhear him saying, 'Rise up, my love, and come away'. By
the time he says to her 'let me hear your voice' (v. 14) and she replies in
w. 15 (?), 16-17, the indicators of narration have faded away. In v. 17, she
addresses him with a double imperative, 'turn, my love, be like a gazelle'.
Is v. 17 still part of her narration of the past, or has she conjured up her
lover so vividly that she now speaks to him directly? The blurring of the
boundaries between past and present is also a blurring of the distinction
between the woman as narrator and the woman as a character in her own
narrative. We cannot tell the storyteller from the story.4
The woman's speech begins with the voice (HI! "Tip), a voice that
signals her lover's presence before he speaks. Hearing and seeing, the
voice and the gaze, are central metaphors in the Song, and they play an
important role in our passage. 'Listen! (^lp) My Lover!' and 'Look! (HDH)
He's coming, leaping over the mountains...' create the impression of immediacy. Who is supposed to listen and look? To whom is the speech, as
a whole, directed? As elsewhere in the Song, we may think both of the
women of Jerusalem (the audience in the poem whose presence is acknowledged in 3.5) and, also and especially, of the poem's readers. Anticipating
the sound of his voice, the description in w. 8-9 brings the man ever
4. I allude here to Yeats, whom I quoted as a poetic authority above. The poet of
the Song of Songs exemplifies Yeats's artistic ideal: 'O chestnut-tree, great-rooted
blossomer,/Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole?/O body swayed to music, O
brightening glance,/How can we know the dancer from the dance?' ('Among School
Children')-
146
closer until we hear him speak. The woman creates a vivid picture of his
approach: he is first observed at a distance, upon the mountains, and then
seen from up close, outside her house, where we spy him spying, peeping
in the windows to catch a glimpse of her. Whereas she and, through her
eyes, we can see him coming closer until we can hear him, he, for his part,
is trying to catch sight of her through the windows so that he can tell her
that he wants to see and hear her.
In v. 10, 'my lover answered and said to me' simulates a narrative, and
it sounds as if the woman is going to report some event from the past.
Robert offers the pertinent observation that, although the woman presents
it in the form of a historical narrative, the scene is actually outside of time,
but he then proceeds to locate the scene in the future (in keeping with his
allegorical interpretation of the Song, he sees this narrative as expressing
hope for restoration after the exile [1963: 117]). Michael Fox rightly perceives that the woman describes events 'as if they were happening in the
present' (1985:112), though he locates the events in the past. Critics typically try to resolve the temporal fluidity as if it were a problem, because
they do not perceive its poetic purpose in creating a sense of immediacy
and urgency. An exception is Jill Munro (1995: 121-23, 126-27), who
rightly emphasizes the blurring of distinctions between past and present as
characteristic of the Song's literary artistry.
Rendered in most translations of v. lOa as 'said', HDU normally means
'answered'. We have only to recall that the Song is a dialogue for 'answered' to make sense here. It is as if the man is replying to the woman's
description of his approach in w. 8-9, transforming a reminiscence (to use
Murphy's term) into a conversation. His speech is rhetorically effective
in building up to the climax, his request to see and hear her. The direct
address, 'Rise up, my friend, my fair one, and come away', repeated from
v. 10 in v. 13, serves a dual function: it rounds off the first part of the man's
speech, making it an inclusio, and it introduces the second part. In the first
part (1 Ob-13a), he explains why she should come outside; in the second
(13b-14), he reveals why he wants her to come out.5
5. The Masoretes placed a setuma at the end of v. 13, indicating a sense division.
The alternative division of the speech I am proposing takes 13b with the following, as
introducing the second part of the speech, so that each reason for her to come outso
that she can enjoy the springtime in the first, so that he can see and hear her in the
secondis preceded by the invitation to rise up and come away with him. There is, in
fact, a chiasmus formed by w. 8-9 and 17, comparing the man to a gazelle or deer
147
He first presents his case from her perspective, as it were; she should
come outside so that she can enjoy the sights, sounds and smells of early
spring. Spring, when nature comes to life, is, after all, the season quintessentially associated with love. The invitation to share the delights of spring
derives its persuasive power from its appeal to the senses. 'Look!' (n3H, v.
11) directs the woman'sand the reader'sattention as spring unfolds
before us. Blossoms are seen, the turtledove's cooing is heard, the budding vines fill the air with fragrance. There is even a hint of taste in the
mention of ripening figs and grape vines. The repeated references to 'the
land', 'our land', in v. 12 suggest a widening of perspective, bringing the
total sensory picture into the ambit of the entire countryside.
The sensuous blossoming of the season mirrors the awakening of love
(Munro 1995: 117). The man wants to share the beauty of spring with his
lover. When he invites her outside the second time (w. 13c-14), he comes
to the main reason, from his point of view, for her to come outside: never
mind the sights and sounds and smells of spring, he wants to see her and
hear her (v. 14).
The sense of sight is understandably privileged in the Song. Lovers
love to gaze upon each other, and the Song, accordingly, gives us detailed
descriptions of the lovers' bodies. As mentioned above, the voice also features prominently. The Song begins with a disembodied voice asking for
something other than speech from the loved one's mouth: 'let him kiss me
with the kisses of his mouth!' (Cook 1968:115). It ends with the man asking to hear his lover's voice, as he does here in 2.14to which he receives
virtually the same reply that he gets in 2.17. The woman begins her account
in 2.8-17the account in which the man's request to see and hear her is
embeddedwith the injunction to listen and look, and her first word is
"Tip, literally 'voice'. Her lover's request in v. 14 brings seeing andhearing
together in one beautifully balanced chiastic couplet.
Let me see your form,
let me hear your voice,
for your voice is sweet,
and your form is lovely.6
upon the mountains (A and A') and the identical call to the woman in vv. 10 and 13 (B
and B'); see Exum 1973: 54.
6. It is difficult to reproduce the emphasis on sight and sound in English, and it is
not represented in the translation offered earlier of 2.8-3.5; nN~lft, here translated
'form', is the appearance, that which is seen, the total visible form.
148
I take the following verses (w. 15-17) as the woman's reply to this
request. The meaning of the verse about the foxes is the subject of considerable debate, and I shall not rehearse it here. Taking the foxes as an allusion to lustful young men and the vineyards to ripe young women, I see the
woman as speaking on behalf of women in general and saying, in effect:
young men can roam about freely in search of romance, like foxes romping through the vineyards. They want our favours and we want theirs, but
we are not so free as they are to dally. The important thing for us is to catch
a fox for our very own (each of us, her own fox). These adventurous young
men need to be caught, seized hold of and brought homewhich is what
the woman does a few verses later (3.4) when she seizes her lover (the verb
is the same, Tf"IN) and refuses to let him go until she has brought him to her
mother's house. (Ideally, in the scenario envisioned in v. 15, the man is
caught and brought home for good.)7
Verse 15 is the general and v. 16 the particular. The woman's caricature
of the way women and men look at love differentlythe former from the
perspective of the vineyard and the latter from the perspective of the fox
does not, she says, apply to her and her lover. As a reply to her lover's
request in v. 14 to hear her voice, v. 15 about the foxes is only a teasing
backdrop against which she makes a serious and profound claim in v. 16:
'my lover is mine and I am his'. Her point is: lustful young men in general
are rather like foxes who by nature seek to take advantage of blossoming
vineyards, but my lover, in contrast, is committed to me. Our relationship
is exclusive and mutual: he is mine and I am his. He is not to be found in
just any vineyard; he grazes among the lilies (the lilies being symbolic of
the woman herself; cf. 2.1-2, 16; 6.2-3).
She speaks in response to his request to hear her voice, but does she
answer his plea to let him see her? Her account of her lover's visit does not
mention her going outside to join him. Only if we want to maintain a strict
narrative framework in w. 10-17 will we need to imagine her speaking
from inside the house. In v. 17 the woman addresses her lover directly, as
though he were there before her. This is typical of the way the Song plays
with presence and absence, conjuring up the lover only to let him disap7. This interpretation fits, I believe, the general picture the Song of Songs gives of
a society in which a man's freedom of movement is greater than a woman's, as well as
its picture of love as something that women give and men take. It also fits the particular
situation portrayed in the woman's account here in 2.8-17, in which she is in the house
and the man comes, when he chooses, to court her. Most important, it provides the context for understanding the next verse, for which it is only the prelude.
149
pear, so that the seeking and finding can begin again. Having replied to his
request to hear her voice with an assertion about their love (w. 15-16),
here in v. 17 she urges him either to return home (at dusk? at dawn?) or to
come to herwhichever she means depends upon how one understands
this enigmatic verse.
First, we have the problem whether the verse refers to the coming of the
evening or the morning, a point on which commentators are divided. When
does the day 'breathe' (DTTI niS1^ "(17)in the morning, when it blows
softly in, or in the evening, when it becomes cool (as in 'the cool of the
day', Gen. 3.8)? Does the fleeing of the shadows refer to their lengthening
until they disappear, as day draws to a close, or to their disappearance when
the sun rises? Does ~tf II) mean 'until' (NRSV, NAB, KJV), or 'while' (NEB),
or 'when' (NJPSV) or 'before' (NJB)? Second, there is the question whether
'turn' (3D) indicates that the woman is calling her lover to herin the sense
of 'turn to me' or 'return'or sending him away. Third, she exhorts him to
be like a gazelle or young deer upon the mountains, using the same imagery
she used to describe his approach in w. 8-9. Here, however, the mountains
are specified as "ifD "H!"!, 'cleft mountains', 'mountains of separation', or
'mountains of Bether'. Do the mountains represent the woman (as the
'mountains of spices' seemingly do in the similar exhortation in 8.14), or
are they the mountains beyond which he came in 2.8, here specifically
identified as the mountains of Bether, or are these some other mountains?
It is striking that v. 17 is ambiguous with regard to the lover's movements in so many respects. Is the woman sending the man away and calling him to her at the same time, in what seems to be a contradictory
impulse? (This appears to be the case in 8.14, when virtually the same exhortation appears.) The problem is resolved if we understand the woman's
words as double entendre.8 In the context of the woman's 'story' of her
lover's visit in 2.8-17, telling him to be like a gazelle upon the mountains
means that the time has come for him to go home. 'Turn' in this scenario
would mean to turn away from her, to return to the place over the mountains from where he came (v. 8). But the woman does not say, 'Turn, my
love, be like a gazelle or young deer leaping over the mountains, bounding
over the hills'. The change in wording from v. 8 is significant. What are the
"IPO "HH? Some see "1PQ as a place; others, as a type of spice; others
8. The previous verse (2.16) ended with a double entendreis the man grazing
among lilies, i.e., engaging in love play, or pasturing a flock? (so NRSV, NJB, Rudolph
1962: 136)and double entendre is very much in evidence in 5.2-6, the other story the
woman tells of a visit by her lover (see Exum 1999b: 78-84).
150
understand 'cleft mountains' as a veiled reference to the woman. Understood as double entendre suggestive of the woman herself, either 'mountains of spices' or 'cleft mountains' presents her as the mountain on which
her lover should now cavort (the 'turning' would thus be toward her). A
similar double entendre appears in 4.6, when the man says, 'When the day
breathes and the shadows flee, I will make my way to the mountain of
myrrh and to the hill of frankincense'. His words, which echo hers of 2.17,
strongly suggest that his movement, when evening comes, is toward her.
Assuming that v. 17b is double entendre, I am inclined to see v. 17a as
referring to the end of the day. In the story the woman tells, the man's
invitation to her to join him outside and his description of the sights and
sounds she should enjoy give the impression of a daytime visit (Rudolph
1962: 133; Murphy 1990: 140; contra Fox 1985: 115). In v. 17 she tells
him that, when evening comes, it will be time for him to return home (this
also sets the stage for her longing for him in bed at night and seeking him
in the following verses, 3.1-5). On the erotic level, far from encouraging
him to leave when it is evening, she invites him to spend the night with
her. He besought her to join him outside (w. 10-14), now she intimates,
by means of sexual innuendo, that he should come to her.9
The woman's words in v. 17 are virtually identical to the last verse of
the Song, where once again they are spoken by her in response to the
man's request to hear her voice: 'Flee, my love, and be like a gazelle or
a young deer upon the mountains of spices'. The differences are (1) i~l~Q,
'flee', appears in place of 3D, 'turn', which makes the movement away from
the woman more apparent, and (2) 'mountains of spices' replaces 'cleft
mountains', which more strongly suggests movement toward the woman.
These differences pull in opposite directions, foregrounding the dual impulses already at work here in 2.17.
In its poetic unfolding, Song 2.8-17 offers a clue to the meaning of the
Song as a whole. The poem ends, as this speech does, with the woman
sending her lover away and calling him to her in the same breath. The
9. A different approach is offered by Wiirthwein (1969:46-47), who reads v. 17a
with v. 16; thus, the male lover grazes among the lilies until, or when, the evening
breezes blow. Then, in v. 17b, the woman invites the man to come to the mountains of
Bether ('Komm her'). Curiously, however, when this enigmatic couplet about the day
breathing and shadows fleeing appears again (2.17a = 4.6a) immediately after a reference to 'grazing among the lilies' (cf. 2.16 and 4.5), Wiirthwein does not connect the
clauses (50-52). Similarly, Muller (1992: 32), though he thinks 4.5b-6 is a later
addition (42).
151
scene in 2.8-17 is followed by a second scene in 3.1 -5 in which the woman

seeks and finds her lover. This pattern indicates that the paradoxical
sending away and calling for(th) is a prelude to the lovers' union, a union
that throughout the Song is simultaneously assured, deferred, and, on a
figurative level, enjoyed. The Song does not come to an end, rather it folds
back upon itself.10 Only when the woman sends her lover away can the
poem begin again, with the longing and the search for him. The Song of
Songs could be described as a lyric poem without beginning or end, for it
begins in medias res, 'let him kiss me', and ends without closure. The poet
resists closure because erotic satisfaction or fulfilment would mean the end,
or death, of desiring, the silence of the text.11 Conjuring up the lovers and
letting them disappear in a continual play of seeking and finding is the
poet's attempt to make present, through language, the lovers who stand for
all lovers and, ultimately, for a vision of love as strong as death.
Bibliography
Brooks, Peter
1993
Body Work: Objects of Desire in Modern Narrative (Cambridge: Harvard

University Press).
Clines, David J.A.
1995
'Why Is There a Song of Songs and What Does It Do to You If You Read
It?', in Interested Parties: The Ideology of Writers and Readers of the Hebrew
Bible (JSOTSup, 205; GCT, 1; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press): 94-121.
Cook, Albert
1968
The Root of the Thing: A Study of Job and the Song of Songs (Bloomington:
Indiana University Press).
10. As Munro observes, the effect of 8.14 is to assure us that the Song will never
end, that the lovers will evermore be engaged in love's game of seeking and finding
(1995: 89).
11. Peter Brooks writes about 'the way in which narrative desire simultaneously
seeks and puts off the erotic denouement that signifies both its fulfillment and its end:
the death of desiring, the silence of the text' (1993: 20). See also Landy (1983: 113):
'The tension in the Song between the desire of the lovers to unite and the inevitability
of their parting is that also between their voice and the silence into which it vanishes,
and between love and deaththe ultimate parting, the unbroken silence'. I am touching here on what David Clines, in a provocative essay on the Song of Songs, refers to
as 'the implied psychological profile of the author' (1995: 102-106), but with a different view of the author's desire; namely, the desire to immortalize a particular vision of
love.
152
Exum, J. Cheryl
1973
'A Literary and Structural Analysis of the Song of Songs', ZA W85: 47-79.
1999a
'How Does the Song of Songs Mean? On Reading the Poetry of Desire',
SEA 64: 47-63.
1999b
'In the Eye of the Beholder: Wishing, Dreaming, and double entendre in
the Song of Songs', in Fiona C. Black, Roland Boer and Erin Runions (eds.),
The Labour of Reading: Desire, Alienation, and Biblical Interpretation
(Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature): 71-86.
forthcoming The Song of Songs: A Commentary (OTL; Louisville, KY: Westminster John
Knox Press).
Fox, Michael V.
1985
The Song of Songs and the Ancient Egyptian Love Songs (Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press).
Landy, Francis
1983
Paradoxes of Paradise: Identity and Difference in the Song of Songs (Bible
and Literature Series, 7; Sheffield: Almond Press).
Miiller, Hans-Peter
1992
Das Hohelied (AID, 16/2; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht).
Munro, Jill M.
1995
Spikenard and Saffron: A Study in the Poetic Language of the Song of Songs
(JSOTSup, 203; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press).
Murphy, Roland E.
1990
The Song of Songs: A Commentary on the Book of Canticles or the Song of
Songs (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress Press).
Robert, A., and R. Tournay, with A. Feuillet
1963
Le Cantique des Cantiques (Etudes bibliques; Paris: J. Gabalda).
Rudolph, Wilhelm
1962
Das Buch Ruth, Das Hohe Lied, Die Klagelieder (KAT, 17/1-3; Giitersloh:
Gerd Mohn).
Wiirthwein, Ernst
1969
Ruth, Das Hohe Lied, Esther (HAT, 18; Tubingen: Mohr).
WISDOM AND THE SELF-PRESENTATION OF WISDOM LITERATURE*

Michael V. Fox
Contrary to Mieder's famous dictum,1 a proverb in a collection is not
dead, but it does enter a new life each time it is used. In every new use it
must meet a particular need, and this role imbues it with a 'performance
meaning' (Fontaine 1982: 50). In a collection, a proverb has a fairly stable
semantic core which is communicated to most readers; otherwise it would
be useless in further interactions. Its performance meaning, however, exists
only as a potential. A proverb is thus like a coin, whose value is definable
but remains latent until the coin is spent on something, whereupon it can be
said to have 'performance value'.
C. Fontaine's Traditional Sayings in the Old Testament (1982) introduced
the concept of proverb performance into Bible studies and demonstrated its
value by applying it to the citation of sayings in biblical narratives. In the
Bible, however, it is precisely where we have the most proverbsnamely,
the book of Proverbsthat performance analysis is most problematic. For
Translations of Egyptian texts are my own. Full translations, along with references to publications of the originals, can be found in Lichtheim 1973-80 (abbrev.
AEL) and Brunner 1988 (abbrev. AW). References to Egyptian texts are by column/
verse of the major MS or the section divisions in the Kleine Agyptische Texte editions.
Quack 1994 is used for Anii and Posener 1976 for the 'Loyalist Instruction'. Pap.
Chester Beatty IV includes a collection of school texts, four of which (1, 3, 4, 6)
belong to the Wisdom or instruction genre (A W 222-29). Sometimes I translate an
eclectic text, whose wording will be evident when the collated editions are consulted.
For Babylonian texts, the translation of Foster 1993 (abbrev. BTM) or Lambert 1960
(abbrev. BWL) is used. The Sumerian Suruppak is translated by Alster 1974: 33-51.
Supe'ameli (or Sube'awilum): Dietrich 1991.
1. 'Each age, each author, each work and each situation will force a new function
onto the proverb. It is for this reason that the proverb in a collection is dead! It lives
only when used, and as a mirror of life it can function in an infinite number of ways.
Asking for the function of the proverb in a literary work is the breath of life of such an
investigation' (Mieder 1974: 892). The present essay asks the latter question, not about
individual proverbs but about the life of the collection as a whole in its literary context.
154
the editors have, by the very nature of their task, detached the sayings
from actual use and assembled them (as well as new coinages) in readiness
for redeployment in a limitless variety of new contexts. Until then, they
exist as literature and are susceptible to literary analysis. Further, the assembled proverbs have been given enriched meaning through literary re-contextualization.
The shape of the new context, now a literary one, may be described in a
variety of ways. For Camp (1985: 167-78,209-22), it exists by means of
an overarching theme, which in Proverbs is the personification of wisdom
as a woman. For other scholars, it is created and controlled by intricate formal designs with hierarchical structures.2 Heim (2001: esp. 21-25,72-75)
argues that in place of an oral performance context, the collected pro verbs
are arranged in coherent editorial groupings, each of which creates a 'literary performance context' (24).
But literary structures, no matter how tightly organized, are not 'performance contexts'. They are not situations (real or fictional) in which someone uses a proverb in an attempt to influence others. There is, however,
one type of context in Wisdom books that is comparable to proverb performance but that has not been recognized as such: the discourse setting in
which the teachings are delivered.3 Here we do hear someone speaking to
someone else with an attempt to influence him or the situation. Such a setting can be called 'wisdom performance', since it pertains not to individual
proverbs but to the Wisdom book as a whole.
Most ancient Near Eastern Wisdom books are given a performance
setting. This is a deliberate literary choice, as shown by the fact that some
proverb collections do not receive one. There are Sumerian and Babylonian texts that are only compilations of sayings.4 Some of the sayings give
advice, but others are merely clever phrases that have no didactic message.5
2. A number of scholars have tried to discern designs of varying scope in the
proverb collections. Scoralick, for example, delineates designs largely on the basis of
repeated proverb-variants (1995: 161 and passim). Krispenz marks out compositional
groups largely on the basis of paronomasia in conjunction with thematic groupings
(1989: 32-40). R. Van Leeuwen (1988) applied structural analysis to Prov. 25-27, proposing an intricate design in 25.2-27.
3. I capitalize 'Wisdom' to indicate the literary genre, to be distinguished from the
faculty and knowledge of wisdom.
4. Alster 1997; BWL: 223-80.
5. An example of the former is 'Being strong does not compare with having
intelligence' (Alster 1997: 178). An example of the latter is 'A wild stag ascended like
a poplar, and is coming down' (Alster 1997:205), which looks like a risque wisecrack.
Fox Wisdom and the Self-Presentation of Wisdom Literature 155

The purpose of these collections is not stated, but it seems to be to provide
scribal students with a rhetorical resource and not to convey wisdom
directly. Such collections are marginal to the genre of 'Wisdom literature',
which is most usefully confined to books that seek to guide the reader in
matters of moral and practical import.
The present study does not address the issues of the historical origins or
the actual Sitze im Leben of the proverbs or the books (on which see Fox
1996). Rather, it describes the way that Wisdom books present themselves
and define their speakers and audiences, the media by which their teachings are said to be communicated, and their purposes.
1. The Participants
a. Father and Son
The ostensible context of wisdom performancewhenever one is stated or
impliedis the family. In almost all Wisdom books, insofar as the condition of the manuscripts allows us to ascertain, the speaker is the father and
the audience his son or sons. In one case, the mother is the teacher (Prov.
30.1-9). Elsewhere there is occasional mention of mothers teaching wisdom,6 but they are not quoted. Daughters are never explicitly in the audience, with the possible exception of the Egyptian 'Loyalist Instruction'
(AEL: 1,128), which is addressed to 'his children'. (The word is written in
some manuscripts with both male and female determinatives [8.2; Posener
1976: 101].)7
The following are spoken by a father to his son or children:
6. Prov 1.8; 4.3; 6.20; 31.26; Duachety XXXf-g (cf. AEL, 1,191); and see 'Mothers as Teachers' in Fox 2000: 82-83. In the Ptolemaic tomb of Petosiris, an inscription
praises his wife Renpet-Nefret for being: 'expert with (her) mouth, sweet in speech,
excellent in counsel in her writings' (Fox 1985: 350
7. The use of the female determinative with hrdw 'children', though possibly a
reflex of the common writing of the word, suggests that for some scribes the inclusion
of daughters among the auditors was not unthinkable.
The fragmentary words of Sasobek (Pap. Ramesseum I; Barns 1956: pis. I-VI), may
be addressed to 'people' (rmt (pi. 1,1. 167), also (as is usual) with the male + female
determinatives, if Barns's restoration in pi. I is correct. This text, insofar as it is comprehensible, has some wisdom advice but is largely a lament.
According to D. Harrington (1996: 58,83-84), a fragmentary Qumran text (4Q415
frag. 2, ii 1-9) may be directing its advice to a female, using the 2 fern. sg. imperative.
The reading of the relevant words is, however, very uncertain.
156

In Egypt: Hardjedef (AEL, I,58), Kagemeni (plural; AEL, 1,60), Ptahhotep
(AEL, I, 63), Merikare (see AEL, I, 97), the 'Loyalist Instruction' (plural;
AEL, 1,128), king Amenemhet (AEL, 1,136), Duachety (AEL, 1,185), The
Instruction of a Man for his Son' (AW, 188), Amenemope (AEL, II, 149),
Ami(AEL,ll, 136,144), the priest Amenemhet (plural ;AW, 3 90), and Anchsheshonq (AEL, III, 163). A unique variation of the father-son pattern is the
case of the friends Amenakhte (A W, 231 -33) and Hori (O. Gardiner 2, recto),
whose instructions address each other's son (Bickel and Mathieu 1993:49).
In some Egyptian texts, lacunae prevent us from determining if an audience was mentioned (Pap. Beatty IV, Pap. Insinger). Only The Instruction
according to Old Writings' (O. Petrie 11; AW, 213-17) definitely does not
designate an audience.
In Mesopotamia: Suruppak (Alster 1974: 35), Shupe'ameli (Dietrich
1991:39,41), and the Babylonian 'Counsels of Wisdom' (BTM 328). Ahiqar
addresses his nephew, whom he has adopted (Syriac recension, Conybeare,
Harris and Lewis 1913: 99, 103).
In Israel: The father-son relation is implied in Proverbs 1-9 in the
exhortations to 'my son' to listen to his father's instruction (1.8; 4.1; 6.20).
The parallel between 'father' and 'mother' in 4.3 confirms that 'father' does
not mean 'school teacher'. There is no reason to identify this 'son' as a pupil
in a school. It may be a conventional address to any young person, but, again,
occasional references to the mother indicate that 'son', in the first instance,
is meant literally. Ben Sira occasionally addresses his 'son' (e.g., 3.17; 4.1;
and often) or 'sons' (41.14) and calls himself'father' (3.la).
Ecclesiastes has an identified speaker, the fictional king Qohelet, but he
does not speak to a specific audience. The epilogue, however, addresses 'my
son' (12.12).
The family is the primary setting for character education, which is Wisdom's purpose. There is never a hint of a school setting, though scholars
have usually regarded this as the locus of wisdom teaching (see Fox 1996:
228-32). For a particular work, the father-son setting may be fictional (as
is certainly the case with the antediluvian Suruppak) or actual (as is probably the case with most Egyptian instructions, whose authors are clearly
named and provided with titles). When the father-son setting is fictional, it
reveals what Wisdom authors presumed to be the natural and appropriate
setting for instruction. They considered it necessary to create such a setting, presumably to give their instructions credibility and authority by
accommodating them to traditional genres.
b. Future Generations
While the father-to-son setting of Wisdom instruction is widely recognized, it is less well noted that a Wisdom book may be intended for the

benefit of later descendants. There are some allusions to family transmission in Egyptian Wisdom.
Ptahhotep says, 'When [the obedient son] grows old and reaches veneration, he will speak likewise to his children, renewing the teaching of his
father... He speaks to (his) children; then they may speak (to) their children'
(11. 590-96). The word 'renew' (sm W) is significant: the teaching is 'made
new' or, we might say, 'actualized', whenever it is delivered. Duachety ends
his instruction by saying, 'see these things which I have placed before you
and the children of your children' (XXXg; cf. AEL, I, 191).
The father speaking in the 'Loyalist Instruction' says to his children:
'Imitate my character; do not neglect my words. Practice the rules which I
have made. Then you can speak to your children, for the mouth has
instructed since the time of the God' (7.6-8.1; Posener 1976: 99-101).
In other words, people have given (oral) instruction from the time of creation onwards, and if you learn my precepts, you can continue this chain
of tradition.
A similar continuity is implied in Proverbs 1-9. If the untutored youth
gains wisdom (1.4), he will become wise, and a wise man, the next verse
says, has np"?, which is knowledge for teaching. This process is alluded to
in 4.3-9. The speaker begins with an exhortation of the sort that opens all
the lectures in Proverbs 1-9:8 'Hear, O sons, a father's instruction; listen
to learn understanding! For I give you a good instruction [np1?]; forsake
not my teaching [THin]' (4.1-2). The father's teaching takes the form of a
quotation of his father's teaching. This is an exhortation to seek wisdom
(4.4b-9): 'Let your heart hold my words; keep my precepts and live. Get
wisdom, get understanding, do not forget, do not stray from the words of
my mouth, etc.' (4.4b-9). Why does the father quote the listener's grandfather, when the grandfather's message is no different from that of the
other lectures? For one thing, the quotation enhances the authority of the
teaching by rooting it deeper in the family tradition. For another, the father
may be holding himself up as evidence for the efficacy of the teachings in
bringing one success and wisdom. But the quotation also gives the son a
model of continuity: As I instruct you with my father's teachings, so must
you instruct your sons with my teachings.
8. Following the prologue (1.1 -7), there are ten discourses or lectures addressed to
the son: 1.8-19; 2.1-22; 3.1-12; 3.21-35; 4.1-9; 4.10-19; 4.20-27; 5.1-23; 6.20-35; 7.127. Embedded in them are five poetic 'interludes' (1.20-33; 3.13-20; 6.1-19; 8.1-36;
9.1-18). See Fox 2000: 44-47.
158
Ben Sira does not mention his descendants, but we know that his teaching
was transmitted in the family at least until his grandson, who translated it.
1. Author and Reader
The father is not the only communicator, nor the son (and future generations) the only audience in Wisdom literature. The author is sometimes
conscious of speaking to future readers. This dimension of communication
is present in any written work (either in the author's or transcriber's intention), but only rarely are future readers given explicit attention.
Amenemope's prologue says that he 'made' (that is, composed) his
teaching for the edification of his son Kanakht, who is addressed in the
second singular throughout the book. At the same time, the epilogue commends the book's value to all readers.
Look to these thirty chapters:
They entertain, they instruct;
they are the foremost of writings;
they make the ignorant wise.
If they are read before an ignorant person,
he is purified by them (30).
In other words, while the teachings are formally spoken to Kanakht, they
are written for future readersand listeners. Note the clause, 'If they are
read before an ignorant person' (not: 'If a youth reads them'). Future
readers are to employ the book by reciting it aloud to others, presumably
youngsters. In the second dimension of communication, the users of the
book are teacherswhether schoolmasters or fatherswho can align themselves with Amenemope and instruct their sons or pupils by means of his
carefully crafted words. Indeed, it is implied that this is a duty. Grumach
observes:
What is special in this place is the duty not only of'hearing' the instruction,
as in chapter 1, not even only of 'reading' in and of itself, but also of
'reading aloud before the ignorant'. Knowledge is a duty, not a monopoly
(Grumach 1972: ISO).9
The editor of the Instruction of Shupe'ameli says that the ancient sage
spoke both to his son and to future generations:
9. 'Das Besondere an der Stelle ist die Verpflichtung nicht nur zum "Horen" der
Lehre, wie im Kapitel 1, auch nicht nur zum "Lesen" fur sich selbst, sondern zum
"Vorlesen vor dem Unwissenden". Wissen ist Verpflichtung, nicht Monopol.'

From his mouth will come the decisions for the following times;
for the people will he express homages;
to the firstborn will his counsel come forth
he will speak prudent prayers.10
The layering of speakers and audiences in Proverbs is more complex.
The prologue (1.2-7), which creates the teaching context of the entire book
in its current form, indicates two audiences.11 One audienceof the book,
not the prologue properis the callow or untutored child (TIB) (1.4), who
is to gain wisdom by hearing the proverbs that follow (1.2). In Proverbs 19, at least, he will be the audience in the text addressed by the father. Since
a naive, untutored boy can hardly be expected to educate himself by
independently studying the book, the book must be intended for use by
someone else in educating him. This user is a reader, to be identified with
the 'wise man' mentioned in 1.5. It is he, and not the boy, to whom the
prologue speaks. The reader of Proverbs envisioned by its prologue is
aligned with this 'wise man'. He is to use the book to educate the young
and, secondarily, to cultivate his own wisdom: 'Let the wise man listen and
enhance his instruction, the astute man gain guidance' (1.5, cf. v. 6).
The speaker in the prologue is an author speaking to readers, who are
already 'wise'. The father who speaks in chs. 1-9 is a wise man of this
type, one who has wisdom to offer (e.g. 1.8-9; 2.2; 4.1, 11; 5.1) and is
instructing his son or sons (e.g. 1.8,10,15; 4.1; 7.24). He is paradigmatic
of the readership intended by the prologue. Any future reader of this sort
can align himself with him and use the book as a model for teaching his
own sons. The schema of interaction is:
10. Aus seinem Mund werden die Entscheidungen fur die folgenden Zeiten
kommen,
fur das Volk wird er Huldigungen aussprechen;
an die Erstgeborenen wird sein Rat ausgehen,
er wird besonnene Gebete sprechen (trans. Dietrich 1991: 39).
11. In Fox 2000: 325-26,1 argue (as do many commentators) that the entirety of
Prov. 1-9 is later than the rest of the book (except possibly chs. 30-31). It was prefixed
to the older collections to explain the nature of their wisdom. The prologue (1.1-7) was
probably added at the same time, because it seems particularly cued to the lectures in
chs. 1-9. The absence of allusion to the personification of wisdom in the prologue suggests that the interludes (see n. 8) were added somewhat later (Fox 2000: 326), but this
proposal is based on negative evidence and must remain a hypothesis.
160

speaker
audience
medium
author
wise man
wise man
son(s)
writing
speech
This schema did not necessarily apply to the older collections (chs. 1029) before they were brought together and provided with an introduction by
the prefixing of chs. 1-9. Nevertheless, in the other collections (besides
24.23-34, which is an appendix), there are occasional pointers to the fatherson setting, particularly the address to 'my son' (19.27; 23.15, 19; 23.26;
24.13, 21; 27.11; cf. 30.2). When the prologue was added, its view of the
audiences and purposes of Wisdom naturally became those of the book in
its entirety.
Ben Sira too intends his teachings for the future: 'Again I will radiate my
teaching like the dawn, and will leave it behind for future generations. See,
I did not toil for myself alone, but for all who seek (wisdom)' (24.33-34).12
2. The Media of Wisdom
In the cases where an author refers to a future audience, he is certainly
thinking of his wisdom in a written form. People might memorize it (though
there is no evidence for this), but they would basically be learning from a
written text. Sometimes the author speaks explicitly of the written text, indicating that inscripturation is in some way relevant to performance.
Since the subject of the present study is the self-presentation of Wisdom
literature, I set aside the question of whether Wisdom literature was originally oral or written. Certainly in Egypt, the instructions lack the concision
and 'apodictic' qualities of oral wisdom, and Assmann (1990:493) is certainly right in calling the oral setting a fiction. It is hard to imagine that the
instruction of Amenemope, for example, in which both father and son are
scribes and part of a proud scribal culture, was originally spoken as we
have it and subsequently recorded from memory. Proverbs may well contain some folk proverbs, especially monostichs that were shaped into literary couplets by the addition of a parallel line (Eissfeldt 1913:47). As they
exist in the book of Proverbs, however, they have a distinctively literary
character. Unlike most of the folk sayings cited elsewhere (see Eissfeldt),
the sayings in Proverbs are mostly in strictly parallel couplets and sometimes with motivational extensions. The relations among adjacent proverbs
often affect their meaning, and longer clusters of proverbs are frequent.
12. Verse 34b was copied from Sir. 33.18 by a later scribe.

The longer literary units, especially in Proverbs 1-9,30-31, are certainly
not proverbs created and transmitted orally.'3 The same may be said of the
Mesopotamian Wisdom books. They exist as literary compilations, whatever the proveniences of their minimal components.
More fundamentally, the dichotomy between oral and written oversimplifies the range of possibilities, especially when it assumes that these were
sequential stages of development, with oral ('folk') wisdom developing into
written ('school') wisdom (Westermann 1995:3,108). In the self-presentation of several Wisdom books, including Proverbs, speaking and writing
are intertwined, sometimes in surprising ways.
Amenemope pictures his teachings as delivered orally when he tells his
son, 'Give your [sg.] ears to hear the things that are spoken' (1). Yet he
also describes his teachings as written when he says: 'Look [sg.] to these
thirty chapters' (30). He clearly has a literate audience in mind, for he
says, 'As for the scribe skilled in his office, he will find himself worthy to
be a courtier' (30).
Merikare's father (whose name is lost) regards the wisdom of the past as
transmitted in writing. He instructs Merikare to imitate the ancestors, whose
words 'remain in their books' (line 35). Wisdom literature is assumed to be
available in written, not oral, form.
Anii's instruction was ostensibly spoken, for it concludes with a debate
between him and his son, Khonsuhotep.14 But Anii had earlier exhorted his
son to study written wisdom: 'One will do all you say, when you study the
writings. Study the writings, put them in your heart. Then all your words
will be effective' (20.4-5). Anii has Wisdom books in mind, for they are
the ones that propose to teach effective speech. The assumption of written
discourse continues in the epilogue. In the course of arguing that Anii's
teaching is too difficult for him to absorb and apply, Khonsuhotep asserts
that book learning in itself is an uncertain path to wisdom: 'A son thinks
poorly in himself15 when he (merely) recites sayings from books' (22.1516). The books Khonsuhotep has in mind include Anii's own teaching, the
book just concluded, because Khonsuhotep goes on to say:
When your words are pleasing in the heart, the heart inclines to receive
them. (Then) the heart rejoices in the abundance of your virtues, and thoughts
13. See Hermisson 1968: 14-96 for a careful argument for the literary character of
most (but not all) of the material of Proverbs and its present organization.
14. Although Suys (1935: 98-108) calls the sections of the debate 'Lettres', they
lack epistolary formulae and are to be understood as a record of an oral dialogue.
15. Lit., 'in his body'; in other words, internally, in his unspoken thoughts.
162

are lifted up to you.16 A boy cannot perform the moral teachings'7 when the
books are (merely) on his tongue (22.16-17).
This implies that Anii's teachings are in writing and that Khonsuhotep is
supposed to learn them by reading. The moment of delivery is pictured
(perhaps fictively) as oral instruction, yet the instruction is also a writing,
to be studied by repeated reading. This reading was, to be sure, done 'on
the tongue', that is, verbalized, probably in a chant (see Merikare XVIII;
AEL, I, 101). It is likely that individual reading in the ancient world was
generally, if not always, verbalized. The significant distinction is between
reading to oneself (whether or not verbalized) and reading aloud to
another.
In Pap. Chester Beatty IV (verso 6.3-4; Gardiner 1935: 37-44), the
instruction in 6 is introduced thus: 'I shall stretch out \pd. i] before you an
instruction. I shall teach you the way of life.' 'Stretch out' can be read as
either a literal reference to the unrolling of a scroll or as a metaphor for
presenting a teaching. In either case, writing is envisaged as a medium of
instruction.
Suruppak is said to have spoken his teachings to his son in ancient times
(11.1-8; Alster 1974:35), after which his wisdom was recorded for posterity
(11. 280-81; Alster 1974: 51).
Ahiqar's teaching to Nadin is embedded in a frame narrative, which is a
first-person, written report of his experiences.18 Ahiqar purportedly spoke
(dbr) the first set of his teachings to Nadin at an earlier time, when Nadin
was adopted (1.13). Later, after many tribulations, Ahiqar delivers a second
set of instructionsactually, rebukesthis time addressing Nadin but having his words recorded in writing as they are spoken (S2, VII 26; Conybeare, Harris and Lewis 1913: 122). In this and the previous case, there is
a fiction, if not a reality, of a teaching having originally being delivered
orally and only later recorded.19
16. This apparently means that he brings his wisdom up to the level the father
demands.
17. The phrase sb 'yt mtrw ('teaching of righteousness' or the like) is close to the
modern term 'Wisdom literature'.
18. This is preserved in the Syriac recensions (Conybeare, Harris and Lewis 1913:
99, 103). The Elephantine version is fragmentary here.
19. Ptahhotep' s prologue reports that when he was on the verge o f death, he asked
the king for permission to appoint his son as his successor. The introduction speaks
about Ptahhotep as a figure in the past. It reports that he spoke the subsequent instructions to his son and successor (1. 51; cf. AEL: I, 63).

This order can be reversed. In the epilogue of the instruction to Kagemeni, Kagemeni's father, the old vizier, gives his children his instruction
in writing, and they subsequently read it aloud: 'Then he said to them:
"All that is written in this book: heed it just as I have said it"... And they
recited it aloud in accordance with what was written' (2.4-5). The oral
recitation is based on and conforms to the written record. This idea
expresses the scribal ethos of fidelity to the written text. But even in this
reversed procedure, the moment of instruction, when the teaching itself
occurs, is supposed to be oral. The written teaching is activated through
recitation.
The title of the Instruction of Duachety is 'The instruction which a man
of Sile, named Duachety, made for his son Pepy, when sailing upstream,
etc.' Duachety was taking his son to the palace school. The text continues,
'Then he said to him' (Ha). This implies that he first wrote the book, then
recited his own work.20
In Proverbs 1-9, orality or, more precisely, the fiction of orality, is implied by the exhortations to listen (22.17; 23.19) and in the consistent
second-person singular address even outside of imperative constructions.
In the father's reminiscence of having been taught by his father when he
was a little child (4.3), the teaching is clearly oral. Outside of Proverbs 1-9,
oral instruction is implied in the admonition, 'Listen to your father who
begat you, and do not show disdain when your mother grows old' (23.22).
Verse 22b means, do not disdain her teachings, as a comparison with 1.8;
4.3; and 6.20 shows, for these exhort the son to listen to the wisdom of his
father and mother.21 The kind of teaching that a mother would do is
certainly oral; there is no evidence for female scribes in Israel.
In 22.17-21, which is the introduction to the third collection of Proverbs
(22.17-24.22), the sage speaks of the teachings that follow as a written
instruction: 'Have I not written for you thirty22 (maxims) in deliberation
and knowledge?' (22.20a). Yet the same introduction exhorts the reader
(in the verso) to listen to these same teachings (v. 17).23 This implies that
20. To 'make an instruction' (iri sb 'yt) elsewhere means composing it, not just
delivering it orally, and the sentence 'then he spoke to him' uses a verb form (an 'h '.n
dd.n.f) which indicates sequential action.
21. The lines complement each other and can be paraphrased: 'Listen to your father
and mother and do not be contemptuous when they grow old.'
22. Reading D-fll^tf 'thirty' for D'tZTto (qere) or DltzfteJ' (kethiv). The parallel
with Amenemope supports this widely accepted reading.
23. This is true whether we translate 22.17a according to the MT, 'Incline your ear
164
by reading a text one replicates the performance context of a son listening

to his father speak.
The oral-written duality persists in the book of Ecclesiastes. Qohelet
wrote 'the most honest of words of truth' (12. lOb), but he also 'taught the
people knowledge' (v. 9a), which suggests oral instruction in a public forum, perhaps in the *?np 'public assembly'.
Ben Sira has little suggestion of orality. His is a self-consciously literary
work. But in his concluding acrostic in praise of wisdom, he speaks of his
hookas a 'house of study'24 and speaks as a teacher delivering his instruction orally: 'Turn to me, fools, and dwell in my house of study... I open
my mouth and speak about (wisdom). Get yourselves wisdom without
money'(51.23, 25).
In some later Wisdom books, the instruction is perceived as written, with
no suggestion of orality. Anchsheshonq has no oral component. According
to the fictitious introductory narrative, Anchsheshonq produced his book
in writing, on potsherds, which were to be sent to his son (AEL, III, 163).
This, however, was an anomalous situation, necessitated by Anchsheshonq's imprisonment.
V.A. Hurowitz (1998) has studied the complexities of the relationship
between written and oral transmission of certain Mesopotamian texts (not
Wisdom literature). Both forms of transmission existed side by side as
supplementary, mutually reinforcing media rather than as earlier and later
stages of development (13). Some songs and laws, for example, the Shulgi
hymns and the Code of Hammurabi, were inscribed but also perpetuated
and disseminated orally (13-16). Hurowitz finds an Israelite counterpart in
Deut. 31.19-22, the preamble to the Song of Moses. The song is to be written down, taught to the people, 'place[d] in their mouths', and not forgotten. Hurowitz also notes the procedure in Exod. 17.14, in which Moses is
commanded to write something as a memorial in a book and then 'place it
in the ears' of Joshua.
Recent studies of orality and literacy, such as that of S. Niditch (1996),
have undermined the assumption of a dichotomy between these two
and hear the words of the wise', or emend to ""Q1 tfQCn "[TDK CDn .D^DDH "HST, 'The
words of the wise. Incline your ear and hear my words.' This emendation is based on
the LXX and is probably correct.
24. This is not an actual school, previously unmentioned, which ben Sira is inviting
fools to enroll in. It is the book itself. The passage concludes the book and recommends it to the reader as if it were a school, but one in which anyone can gain wisdom
'without money' (v. 25).

media. Niditch refers to an oral register, which is not a mode of composition but a style (10). Niditch thinks of a continuum from oral to written
(78), but this still conveys the impression of polarity. In actuality, these are
two media of communication that can function separately or together, like
pictures and sound in a movie.
Wisdom literature basically follows a model that Niditch describes as 'a
written imitation of oral-style literature' (1996:130). 'Even at the literate
end of the continuum', she emphasizes, 'the oral mentality is present and
active, informing the way writing is used' (98). This is true of Wisdom
literature, but the picture is even more complex.
In Wisdom's self-presentation the two media intertwine and support
each other. The Wisdom books are to be read to oneself and studied, but
they are also to be read aloud (that is, to others) and taught from. Inscripturation is not an incidental recording device but an intentional mode of
use, which enriches and deepens the wisdom. Even in a highly literary
sub-culture such as produced Wisdom literature, the essential moment of
teaching, the teaching's performance, is presumed to be in some way oral.
Oral delivery is a way of activating the message and recreating the immediacy of the communication between teacher and pupil. In this way, it
replicates in literature the authoritative but intimate oral discourse between
father and son.
3. The Working of Wisdom

Just as one can ask how a proverb operates in performance, so one can ask
about the functioning of a Wisdom text in its literary setting. In one sense,
the answer would require a complete rhetorical analysis of Wisdom literature. But the object of the present study is not the proverbs and counsels of wisdom but the self-presentation of Wisdom texts in their entirety.
What do they say about their own operation? The answer can be reduced
to two phases: Hear and do and Study and understand.
Hear and do is basically a simple concept and, though of great importance, requires little elaboration. The father tells his son to listen, absorb
the teachings, remember them, and do what is advised. This demand is the
substance of the exordia to the lectures in Proverbs 1-9 and is frequent
elsewhere. Ptahhotep in particular insists that hearing is the precondition
of moral growth (11. 534-97; AEL,II, 74-75).
Complexities arose when the sages considered whether learning requires
an innate aptitude. A debate ensued on this issue, with some authors
166
quoting and refuting their predecessors. One view held that some people
are innately incapable of learning, not because of what we would call a
lack of intelligence but because of an insuperable stubbornness, a deep
character blemish. According to another, learning is always possible,
because it can be effected by an imposition of will. A third view was that
learning is often problematic but still possible, given the right approach. (I
discuss this pedagogical dialogue in Fox 2000: 309-17.) All would agree
that an individual's natural receptivity is a significant factor in the teaching's efficacy.
Study and understand means that a Wisdom book is intended as an
object of study, in addition to its service as wise advice. Some books
present themselves as texts for study and explication, activities intended to
exercise and develop interpretive skills. This is wisdom in the sense of
erudition and intellectual competence rather than wisdom as prudence and
righteousness.
Some Wisdom books speak of the importance of interpreting the counsels as well as obeying them. The 'Instruction of a Man to his Son' says,
'He who penetrates into the words can clarify [lit. 'open'] for others what
is heard' (2.3).
For Amenemope, the teaching of virtues and life-skills is not the only
goal. In his introduction, he exhorts his son: 'Give your ears to hear the
things that are said. Set your heart to interpret them' ( 1 ).25His concluding
charge is:
Be filled with [these teachings],
put them in your heart,
and you will become one who interprets them,
who interprets them as a teacher (30).
Papyrus Chester Beatty IV 3 regards book study as a means to the

deeper understanding of wisdom: 'When you become expert [sss'] in the
writings, you will penetrate [ 'q\ the teachings' (verso 4.6; repeated in 4.9).
The order is significant: it is not that 'penetrating' the teachings makes one
'expert' in the writings, but that expertise in literature is a precondition for
the ability to 'penetrate' or interpret the teachings on a deeper level. It is difficult to determine the semantic range of the terms used, but it appears that
sss' (= ss'), which may be used of a variety of skills, is close to 'learning'
25. The word translated 'interpret' is wh', lit. 'untie', 'loosen', hence 'explain'.
This represents a stage beyond 'hearing' and 'receiving' the teaching and corresponds
to Hebrew ^DH 'understand', 'perceive' (Shupak 1993: 47).

or 'erudition'. It means knowing the writings. The verb 'q (lit. 'penetrate'
or 'enter') means to understand in depth (Shupak 1993: 62).
Anii similarly promises to make the reader 'a wise man who can penetrate
('q) words' (15.4). Later, he says that studying books and 'penetrating'
their words empowers one's own speech: 'All that you say will be done,
when you are expert (sss1) in the writings. Penetrate ('q) the writings, put
them in your heart. Then all your words will be effective' (20.4-5). That is
to say, studying and understanding the writings is a means to effective
speech. This calls to mind Prov. 1.5, 'Let the wise man hear and increase
his teaching [np "?]'. np "p is knowledge or a lesson as imparted to others; it
is not static erudition possessed but not communicated (Fox 2000:62-63).
Proverbs' prologue promises that the book will do two things. First, it
will impart wisdom and ethical virtues to the young (1.2-4). Second, it will
help the wise, learned reader advance his wisdom (v. 5), in particular by
furthering his skills in the interpretation of literary wisdom. It promises to
teach the reader: 'to understand a proverb and an epigram [HIT^D], the
words of the wise and their enigmas [Dmin]' (v. 6). The verb "pnn1? 'to
understand' is one in the series of infinitives dependent on the title (v. 1)
which state the book's purpose. This means that, among its other functions, Proverbs will advance the reader's ability to understand the words of
the wise and their enigmatic sayings. The promise of interpretive competence is also implied in v. 2, n] n D "HGK "p^n1?, literally, 'to understand
words of understanding' (1.2). The 'words of understanding' (i.e., words of
wisdom) are the contents of this book and others like it.26 The prologue
introduces some locutions not found elsewhere in the book. The phrase
rim '"1QK ]^nb 'to understand words of understanding' (1.2) and the
words nTn 'enigma' and HiT^Q 'epigram' (1.6) are used only in the
prologue. In fact, outside the titles (1.1; 10.1; 25.1), even mashal is not a
prominent concept in Proverbs. (The proverbs about proverbs [26.7, 9]
describe the use of sayings in daily interactions, not the educational situation.) The author of the prologue is thus reinterpreting the book by
describing its contents and goals in new terms and from a new perspective:
wisdom as literature.
The prologue's perspective on the transparency ofmeshalim differs from
the view of wisdom in the rest of chs. 1-9 and the following collections
26. In 1.6, as in the heading at 24.23 and, originally, 22.17 (emending to *~Q1
D"Q3n), the words of the wise are particular sapiential utterances or writings.
Elsewhere in Proverbs, the 'words of the wise' refers to their speech in daily life
(12.18; 14.3; 15.2, 7) or to the message of their teachings (13.14; 16.23).
168
(chs. 10-31). Elsewhere, references to the book's teachings (frequent in

the exordia) assume that their meaning is accessible, at least to an adequate degree, to anyone with good intentions and reasonable perseverance.
This belief is expounded carefully in 2.1 -22: If you listen to the teachings
attentively and seek wisdom (w. 1-4), you will attain fear of the Lord,
because it is he who gives wisdom (w. 5-6). What is needed is a receptive
and eager attitude. Then God will reward your efforts. The image of Lady
Wisdom going about public places and summoning everyone to her (8.1-4;
9.3-6) concretizes the idea that wisdom is public and accessible, not
esoteric or obscure. As Lady Wisdom says, 'those who seek me will find
me' (8.17). In Proverbs 1-9, one must love wisdom and try to absorb the
teachings rather than striving to penetrate their inner message. For a person with the right attitude, the teacher's words of wisdom need only be
heard and obeyed, not analyzed and interpreted. Hence, 'for a perceptive
man, knowledge is easy' (14.6b).
The prologue does not contradict this view but provides an additional
one. It looks at the book as a whole and promises to enhance a different
sort of wisdom, namely, analytical competence, required for interpreting
texts (1.6). Wisdom is not simply the message of the teachings and the
knowledge they convey. It is also scholarship, the unfolding of new meanings and layers of meanings through textual interpretation, as well as the
analytical competence this requires.
The hermeneutic skills promised are applicable to all 'proverbs and
epigrams, words of the wise and their enigmas' (1.6), and not only in the
book of Proverbs, but in all wisdom, written and oral. It would, after all,
be trivial to claim merely that this book is to be used for interpreting the
wisdom in this book.
Qohelet's wisdom too, according to the epilogue, included interpretive
skills: 'Having listened and investigated, he composed many proverbs'
(12.9b).27 Since both "Ipn and |pn are transitive, min U^m 'many
proverbs' is most naturally construed as the object of all three verbs,
including ]TN. The point is not that Qohelet 'listened' to whatever people
were saying and investigated life generally (though he did), but that he
listened to proverbs and examined them. Whether ]pfl means to 'compose'
27. The first two verbs are circumstantial to the third. 'Listened', ]TN, is literally
'gave ear', reminiscent of a usage frequent in Egyptian instructions. For a justification
of ]TR 'listen' (rather than 'weighed'), see Seow 1997: 384-85.

or 'edit',28 the creative task indicated by this verb was based on attention
to and examination of proverbs.
Ben Sira too regards the wise man as an interpreter of texts. These embrace the entire sweep of sacred literature and the wisdom of the ancients,
including parables and enigmatic proverbs (39.1-3).29 His hakam is a scholar as well as a speaker of wisdom (Sir. 38.24 + 33b; 39.1 -3). Sira promises
that the study of words of wisdom (such as his own) will increase the reader's wisdom: 'Those intelligent in words: they too will become wise and
pour forth precise proverbs' (18.29).
Ben Sira also advises, 'Do not abandon the discourse (nrPKJ) of wise
men, but busy yourself with their enigmas (niTn), for from them you will
gain instruction (rip1?), so as to stand before princes' (8.8b). This means
that the words of the wise hold enigmas, and by identifying and explaining
them one can develop his own expertise, np1? is usually associated with
eloquent speech (e.g., Deut. 32.2; Prov. 7.21 [used facetiously]; 16.21,
23), a sense in Sir. 8.8 supported by the conjunction with the following
clause: the rip*? will help you 'stand before' princes and serve them as
counselor.
As important as study and interpretation of texts are to these authors,
none of them explains how to pursue these endeavors. Apparently it is
enough to read the books with a desire to comprehend the message, and
the skill will grow by the exercise. This resembles the Egyptian practice of
teaching arithmetic through paradigmatic calculations.
In conclusion, the teachings of Wisdom do not come in a vacuum. They
are given a performance setting, namely, a teaching event with a complex
nexus of speakers, audiences, media and purposes. Future readers are to
place themselves imaginatively in this setting, standing, as it were, in
place of the son listening to his father. Then they can in turn replicate the
father's role in instructing others.
Wisdom literature is self-consciously literate and does not envision
oral transmission of memorized sayings. Orality comes into play at two
28. |pn (which usually means 'fix' or 'straighten') refers to some aspect of the
creative process. Seow (1997: 385) translates it 'edited', in other words, compiled and
arranged the sayings. But in rabbinic Hebrew, |pn (piel and hiphil) can mean 'ordain',
'institute'. This supports the translation 'composed', since authorship is a more appropriate description of Qohelet's activity than editing. The book as a whole is not a collection.
29. The translator describes the field of Ben Sira's wisdom in similar terms: the
Law, the Prophets and the 'other books of our ancestors' (Foreword, v. 3).
170
moments: in the original delivery (at least fictively) and the subsequent
recitation, when the original performance is replicated. Reconstituted orality
allows the act of teaching to be reenacted repeatedly and perpetually.
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'A Social Use of Metaphor', in Dan Ben-Amos (ed.), Folklore Genres
(Austin: University of Texas): 125-43.
Seow, C.L.
1997
Ecclesiastes (AB, 18C; New York: Random House-Doubleday).
Shupak, N.
1993
Where Can Wisdom Be Found? (OBO, 130; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck &
Ruprecht).
Suys, E.
1935
La Sagesse d'Ani (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute).
Van Leeuwen, R.
1988
Context and Meaning in Proverbs 25-27 (SBLDS, 96; Atlanta: Scholars
Press).
172
Weitzman, S.
1997

Story and Song in Biblical Narrative (Bloomington: Indiana University
Press).
Westermann, C.
1995
The Roots of Wisdom (trans. J.D. Charles; Louisville, KY: Westminster/
John Knox Press; orig. Wurzeln der Weisheit [Gottingen: Vandenhoeck &
Ruprecht, 1990]).
So WHAT MIGHT THE SONG OF SONGS Do TO THEM?

John Goldingay
Only perhaps in communities that are both essentially patriarchal and

committed to the authority of the Bible may the Song still have a liberating
effect and be able to suggest a vision of an alternative style of being (David
Clines).1
Keep this book away from your girlfriendit contains too many of your
secrets to let it fall into the wrong hands.2
I think it was at my first SBL meeting after I moved to California that someone commented (perhaps they were quoting from someone else) that in
Britain one does theology looking over one's shoulder at the Germans but
in the USA one does theology looking over one's shoulder at fundamentalism. Most of my students in Pasadena come from communities that are
'essentially patriarchal and committed to the authority of the Bible', indeed fundamentalist. They themselves mostly repudiate patriarchalism and
fundamentalism (or keep quiet about the matter), though they may have a
hard time ministering in such communities when they return to themas
they will have a hard time ministering in the light of other aspects of the
different understanding of the Bible into which the seminary has sought to
invite them. But then, surely most readers of the Bible belong to patriarchal communities that are committed to the Bible's authority. It would
therefore be no trivial achievement if the Song of Songs were to have a
liberating effect and suggest an alternative style of being for such average
Bible readers.
So what would this look like? I begin from stories about such communities on three continents, though I will allude more briefly to further such
stories.
1. Clines 1995: 117.
2. From a review of Nick Hornby's novel High Fidelity as quoted on the blurb of
his novel About a Boy.
174
The southern part of the United States is the most Christian part of this
quintessentially Christian nation. At the Dixie Chicks' 2001 concert in Los
Angeles, no song received a more enthusiastic response than Dennis
Linde's 'Goodbye Earl':3
Well, it wasn't two weeks after she got married
That Wanda started gettin' abused
She put on dark glasses and long sleeved blouses
And make-up to cover a bruise...
After Wanda initiated divorce proceedings and Earl responded by putting

her into intensive care, she and her friend Mary Anne formed a plan. They
cooked Earl a nice southern meal with black-eyed peas and something
more sinister, and, when it had done its work, wrapped his body in a tarpaulin and dropped it in the lake. At the end of the story Mary Anne and
Wanda are running a roadside stand on Highway 109, selling Tennessee
ham and strawberry jam. The disclaimer 'The Dixie Chicks do not advocate premeditated murder, but love getting even' was not enough to stop
their song being banned on the radio, presumably by men.
This past quarter, a student of mine from southern Africa wrote a paper
on gender violence in Judges and Isaiah, interweaving biblical study with
accounts of her life at home. She began with an account of homestead life
in her grandparents' day. Her grandfather had eleven wives, each of whom
had six to ten children. His wives' huts stood in a half-moon, his in the
centre so that he could monitor and control his family. If another man
angered him and he could not fight the man, he would beat one of his
wives. When one wife got pregnant and he thought another man was the
father, before the other wives he beat her until she aborted. The wives fled
but returned in fear of wild animals, and as the ringleader the student's
grandmother was beaten, her collarbone being broken. Her parents were
among the first people who came to believe in Christ when Christian missionaries followed on the coattails of British colonists and soldiers, but
one should not assume that the Christianization of southern Africa totally
transformed it in this respect. She has just heard about the death of a friend
after being beaten by her husband. The story of the Levite's wife in Judges
19 reminded her of a woman who used to run away to her brother's house
because her husband beat her. The husband would always come to get his
wife back, and the brother would always surrender her because the husband had the right to do what he liked with her, as his property. If she had
3.
Copyright EMI Blackwood Music Inc/Rising George Music (BMI).
GOLDINGAY So What Might the Song of Songs Do to Them?
175
run back to her parents' home, this would be to invite a lecture from her
mother on submission to her husband. Eventually her husband hit her on
the head with an iron bar and she died. The same property understanding
of marriage means that women have no right to withhold themselves
sexually from their husbands when the latter have contracted AIDS or HIV
through their promiscuity, so that many of the countless women who have
died from AIDS were infected by their husbands.
Another student spoke of the place of women in society and church in
his experience of growing up in Korea. He thinks Korean culture was once
more egalitarian, but under Confucian influence the family came to be
thought of in patrilineal terms, and the church now strongly supports the
patriarchal tradition. So if a woman's first child is a girl, Christians may
wonder whether she must have committed a sin. Marriages are arranged
by the couple's parents and their pastor. It is then assumed that a woman
leaves her parents' family when she marries and joins her husband's parents' family. The married couple is expected to live in his parents' house
and under their authority, especially if he is the eldest son. This tradition is
seen as an ethical principle and a couple who resisted the expectation
would cause a scandal in society worthy of reporting in the newspaper.
The church accepts this tradition as part of its emphasis on the duty of
respect to parents, though it does not emphasize any correlative obligation
of parents to children. On marriage a woman is expected to resign her job
to stay at home in the shared menage, and the situation is a frequent cause
of conflict between the parents and the married couple, especially between
mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. The church's teaching is that one
should be thankful in the context of such difficulties and believe that an
attitude of thankfulness is the key to resolving difficulties. The situation
is also a cause of conflict between the couple themselves, and a cause of
a kind of formalization of the relationship rather than the development of a
personal relationship. It is a major reason for divorce and for Korean emigration to North America.
What might the Song of Songs do for such Christian cultures? Currently,
they interpret the Song allegorically. This need not imply they have a hang
up about sex. I recently heard a conservative pastor say that to satisfy the
interests of his congregation, he really needed only three Sunday School
classesone on sex, one on the end times, and one on whether there will
be sex in the end times. But conservative Christians (like many others) generally assume that the Bible is supposed to be a manual about how to relate
to God, and they interpret the Song accordingly. The function of allegorical
176
interpretation is to make texts speak to the agenda it is assumed they should

have. Roland Murphy observes that an interpretation of the Song as portraying the relationship between God and the people of God 'held sway from
late antiquity until relatively modem times and continues even today to find
some support' (Murphy 1990:11). The words could give the impression that
this understanding has now been generally abandoned. This is only the case
in the rarified groves of the academe. It is still the way most readers understand the Song. Perhaps paradoxically (or perhaps not), even in some Christian circles that are enthusiastic about sex an interpretation of the Song as
referring to the love relationship of God and the believer remains alive and
well. It is important to continue to urge that this is a meaning imposed on
the Song, which offers no hint that the poems have anything to do with our
love relationship with God or God's with us.
The allegorical understanding has been provided with partial justification
on the ground that elsewhere scripture portrays the relationship between
God and people by analogy with marriage, but this justification does not
work. On the one hand, we will note how the Song is not concerned with
marriage. On the other, there is no hint elsewhere in scripture (e.g. in the
Psalms) that we have a relationship with God that on our side has the
dynamics of sexual love. The kind of love that our love for God resembles
is rather that of (adult) children and parents, or subjects and rulers, or
students and teachers. The relationship is characterized by warmth, affection, mutual self-sacrifice and commitment, but the disparity of status and
power makes the dynamics of the love portrayed in the Song inappropriate
to it. Perhaps it would be odd if we thought we had a relationship like that
with the Holy One, and the scriptures do not suggest that we do. As the
Song does not speak of a love that involves self-sacrifice and commitment,
so the scriptures never speak of our emotional relationship with God in
terms of passionate love. Love for God is a matter of commitment. Indeed,
in scripture, people never declare that they love God. In the English Bible
the exceptions that prove the rule are the openings of Psalms 18 and 116.
In the former case the verb is rahamthe only use of the qal and surely
one of the strangest and most enigmatic readings in the Hebrew Bible. In
the latter case the verb 'love' has no object.
Scripture is less reticent about attributing emotion to God's relationship
with us, which may also be suggestive about being a parent or a leader or a
teacher. But the Song's particular portrayal of relationship is misleading
when applied to God. The allegorical interpretation of the Song thus fails a
standard traditional test for such interpretation, that it fits the way other
Ill
parts of scripture speak more directly. Love's shafts are fiery, flames of
YHWH (8.6). If human love reflects God's love in this respect (so Murphy
1990: 104), this is a frightening fact. Other parts of scripture imply that
God is always reaching out for us and wanting to be in relationship with
us, like a parent in relation to children. It is not a normal part of this relationship for God to be like a beloved whom you are not sure you will be
able to find.
While conservative Christians are as keen on sex as anyone else, their
presuppositions about God and the Bible do not encourage them to read
the Song as relating to sex. These presuppositions encourage them to bring
Bible and sex into relationship only in certain moralistic ways. Thus their
traditional Christian morality may have some effect on the way they give
expression to their enthusiasm for sex. The divorce rate among conservative Christians in the USA is apparently even higher than among other
groups, because such people often still feel obliged to get married in order
to have sex, but the marriages then do not last. In this connection the liberating effect of the Song might lie in encouraging people to rethink the
linkage of sex and marriage, since the Song does not link these two.
I do not mean the Song would not presuppose a link, which in its own
culture is unlikely. If heuristically we may reify the lovers in the Song as if
the poems all concern the same couple whether or not this was originally
so, the Song does point to their being a man and a woman whose sexual
involvement belongs in the context of an exclusive one-to-one relationship
so all-consuming that one would expect them to reckon it would be
lifelongin other words, a quasi-marital relationship. (The wisdom of the
poems may be Solomonic, but it is difficult to imagine the historical Solomon in a relationship like this one.) Certainly the process whereby the
Judean community came to treat the Song as scripture would have involved the presupposition that the sexual relationship belongs in the context of marriage. Of course 'certainly' means I have no evidence of this,
but the circumstantial evidence is strong. Indirect testimony to the fact that
readers knew how to read the Song appears in the famous rabbinic warning about singing it in the banquet hall as if it were an ordinary piece of
music (e.g. b. Sank. 101 a). In contrast, there is neither direct nor circumstantial evidence for the often-stated view that the Song was accepted into
the canon only on the basis of first having been understood as a treatise on
the relationship between YHWH and Israel.
Yet some people who listened to the Song presumably noticed that
either the couple were not married or that theirs was a very odd kind of
178
relationship involving an inversion of the practice of living together without being married. The Song may take for granted that this couple were on
their way to marriage, at least, but it is not very interested in that fact.
Indeed, it is not interested in it at all, except in the picture of a wedding
procession in 3.6-11 and the epithet 'bride' in 4.8-5.1. It assumes that marriage is not the only framework within which sex needs to be considered,
because marriage is about many things other than sex. There is food for
thought in the joke about marriage being when two people stop having
sex. Marriage is (for instance) a way of imaging God in the world as two
people who are markedly different from each other make a lifelong commitment to each other that creates something bigger than the sum of their parts
and persists no matter what pressures drive them apart. Marriage is an institutionalized, legal, community structure for such a lifelong one-on-one relationship. Marriage is an arrangement in whose context people can have sex
so that within it children may be born, brought up, educated and looked
after. Marriage is a device whereby a woman moves from the ownership
and protection of one man (her father) to those of another man (her husband).
We could have most of those things without having marriage, but marriage provides a way of having them. The Song is concerned with none of
them but with the happiness and the fear, the anxiety and the fulfilment of
sexual love. In some cultures there has been little link between those and
marriage, as is so now in Western culture. There is little direct indication
that Old or New Testament scriptures link the happiness and the fear, the
anxiety and the fulfilment of sexual love with marriage. Even if the Genesis accounts of the origin of man and woman are much less patriarchal
than they have been read, among others David Clines has persuasively
urged that they do not emphasize the personal relationship of marriage in
the way we might wish (Clines 1990:25-48). Indeed, outside the Song the
scriptures show little interest in the happiness and the fear, the anxiety and
the fulfilment of sexual love. This is food for thought regarding either the
scriptures or Western culture or both. But the importance of this topic in
Western culture shows how important the Song is. Not its least significance
is to require fundamentalists to bring the topic of sex into Christian discussion in connections other than the moral ones that often preoccupy
Christians.
So what does the Song tell conservative readers about the sexual relationship? It opens with shocking directness: May he kiss me with the kisses
of his mouth (1.2). The poems drawor rather yankreaders straight
GOLDINGAY So What Might the Song of Songs Do to Them? 179

inside the physical relationship between two people, like the 2002 Mexican film Y Tu Mama Tambien. Like the movie, the Song is not saying
human beings should be like this, but just that we are, and readers had
better own the factin the way that much of Proverbs does not say that
life should be a certain way, simply that it is. Secular poetry, music, films
and novels presuppose this, even though religious literature usually does
not.
The poems open with the woman's words, notwithstanding this being
'the Song of Songs which is liseldmoh\ Whatever the meaning of that
expression,4 it is striking that the phrase introduces poems in which a
woman speaks first and longest, and often takes the initiative in the relationship. Whereas Niv's headings describe the man and the woman as
'lover' and 'beloved', the poems point conservative readers to a more
egalitarian understanding of the relationship, questioning any assumption
that the man has to make the approaches or set the pace in a relationship.
A woman is free to take the initiative and a man is free to expect that. Both
express appreciation and longing for the other.
The poems do not prioritize the physical over the relational, nor the
relational over the physical. They assume that the two belong together,
like body and spirit. They do reflect the fact that physical appearance may
be more important to a man than to a woman; the man spends more time
talking about this than the woman does. They invite a woman to be aware
of that. She may make the most of it if she wishes, but she might also be
wary of it. If David Clines is right that the Song is a male fantasy, then one
of its values to women will be its revelations regarding what men are like.
Women could of course discover this by watching Ally McBeal or Friends,
but the latter are not in the Bible and therefore have less formal authority
than the Song of Songs, even if they have more effect in shaping behav4. English translations imply that / suggests authorship, but BDB notes that this is
a rare usage and other meanings of the preposition seem more likely. It might mean
'to'were these poems offered or dedicated to Solomon? It might mean 'belonging to'
(cf. 'Belonging to the Korahites', Ps. 42)in other words, they count as Wisdom. It
might mean 'for'for Solomon to use or learn from? Since he was especially inclined
to use sexual relationships as a political device, this would be a telling hope. It might
mean 'on behalf of, with similar implications. It might mean 'about', with some irony.
The succeeding references to Solomon (1.5; 3.6-11; 8.11-12) suggest 'about' or some
similar meaning rather than 'by'. My guess is that (as BDB implies in connection with
/ in the Psalms) the meaning of the expression changed over the centuries. If it originally suggested 'to' it may have come to mean 'belonging to' and then 'by', when people wanted to associate the authorship of works within scripture with someone famous.
180
iour than the average book of the Bible does. Ally McBeal is written by a
man, but some women find it breathtakingly true in its portrayal of women
as well as breathtakingly revealing about men. So whoever wrote the
Song, let us suppose that it does (sometimes) represent a woman's perspective.
The presence of the Song in scripture implies that the kind of relationship it celebrates might be significant for people in general, not just for
young people on their way to marriage. One reason is that 'Everybody's
searching for intimacy... Everybody's hurting for intimacy'.5 The Song is
significant, for example, for married people with their lives focused on
their children and their work, and middle-aged people whose children now
have children of their own, and people whose spouse is handicapped or
has diedand in Western culture, for people who have stayed single or
have divorced. In Western culture, the attractiveness of romantic comedies
for people in all these situations parallels this. So does the capacity of
middle-aged or old people to fall in love again when their marriage has
gone stale or they have divorced. There is nothing time limited about falling in love.
Actually here in California, where 'Everybody's Searching for Intimacy'
was written,6 everybody is avoiding intimacy. This is not to deny that at
some level they are longing for it, but the problem is that they are also
hurting for it. Half of them have been brought up in broken homes and
they are disabled for intimacy. As another country song puts it, 'Nobody
love, nobody gets hurt',7 but people are in no position to take the risk. The
Song invites readers to summon up the strength to take the risk. Sitting
under the surface of their lives, if not on the surface, most have the kind of
feelings described in the Song. These poems, or the romantic comedies,
bring them to the surface in some way. One might have thought that was a
risky thing, but maybe the existence of the poems in scripture suggests it is
a good thing, if not just a thing that happens. One reason is that if readers
do not own these feelings, the feelings may catch them out as they find
expression in inappropriate waysfor example, by their falling in love
when they are not in a position to do so. After all, the Song gives expression to intrinsic human needs. It presupposes the human need for loving
5. From a song by Billy Steinberg and others, sung in its hit version by The Corrs.
6. The Corrs are Irish, but Steinberg is a Califomian.
7. A song by Bobbie Cryner, known to me in the version by Suzy Bogguss. They
are allegedly words written out by the orthographically challenged would-be robber of
a 24-hour supermarket who meant to write 'Nobody move, nobody gets hurt'.
181
recognition and acceptance, for the sense of being 'special', which makes
self-acceptance more possible. The woman describes herself as darkened
by the sun, but pretty (1.5-6)she feels comfortable with herself because
she is loved. She is only a common wild flowerbut to him she is a lovely
flower against the background of weeds (2.1-2). He is not an impressive
tree compared with the giant redwoodsbut as far as she is concerned, he
provides shade and produces lovely fruit (2.3). They are just an ordinary
couple, but their love turns them into a prince and a princess (3.6-11).
The Song invites its readers to recognize that relationships are always
on-the-way and continue to involve risk. They cannot be taken for granted.
The couple spend much time in ecstatic enjoyment of each other's presence, and also spend much time in pained grief at separation from each
other. Separation makes them feel ill (2.5; 5.8). They long for meeting and
seek each other anxiously. She does not know where she may find him
(1.7-8). She can only dream of their being able to live together (3.1-5). She
dreams of missing him or losing him and of her dreams turning to nightmares, as happens in a romantic comedy (5.2-8). He seems to have disappearedis he off with someone else (6.1-3)? There is an 'if only' about
the relationship, caused by the need to observe society's constraints (8.13). She still wants him to make her the most valuable thing in the world to
her. Her passionate, jealous love for him ('ahabd is explained by qin 'a) is
fierce as death, as strong as Sheol. He will not be able to resist it. Vast
floods could not quench those fiery flames it flashes (8.6-7). Experience
suggests this is not true of every passionate lovepeople do fall out of
love. The 2002 Israeli film Late Marriage tells of a man whose passion can
be quenched by his parents' opposition to his match. In the Song the point
is that when you are the subject or the object of such love, you cannot do
anything to make yourself stop loving the other person or to make the
other person stop loving you. And as you cannot decide when it goes, so
you cannot decide when it comes, and therefore, for example, try to buy it
(8.7b).
Notwithstanding the impossibility of controlling whether another person
falls in love with one, or of making oneself fall out of love, the poems talk
about not arousing love till the right moment (e.g. 2.7). To some extent,
then, at least, we can control whether love gets arousedcontrary to the
mythology of Western culture, which takes love as an irresistible force.
Yet the Song also talks about having one's heart captured (4.9)that is, it
recognizes that one person may overwhelm another whether the latter
wants this or not. The poems keep asking for love not to be aroused before
182
its time, but they themselves arouse love in a way that for many readers
may be before its time.
They also raise the question whether people can rekindle love when the
flame seems to have gone, in a way that also fits the exhortation in Prov.
5.15-19. People do find security in a love relationship that leads to marriage, but once they take that for granted, they may imperil it, in several
senses. Part of the thrill of the not-yet-married relationship is its not-yetnessit has the excitement of being on a journey. This is also one of the
attractions of having an affair. So there is a sense in which couples need
not to take each other for granted and need to see themselves as still on the
way. One image in the poems is that of wanting to get away from everyone else (2.10-13), and couples need that. The first time I gave a nascent
version of this paper in a lecture, a man in his thirties rather scornfully
suggested that I was taking these expressions of teenage feelings too
seriously, but he then told his discussion group (I later heard) that he said
this because he was uncomfortably aware that his marriage no longer had
the spark of the Song. He knew I was raising the question whether he
might have a vision for rekindling love. In papers they wrote, three
middle-aged women in the class also described their interaction with the
Song. For one, getting attracted to another man was making her try to
rekindle love in her relationship with her husband; she was succeeding,
and getting a response. The second as a single person had been caused to
revisit the great love of her life and do some more coming to terms with
the fact that this relationship came to an end, and yet somehow find hope
for this part of her. The third had been abused as a teenager and had never
been at ease about sex, but the Song had been giving her a new vision or
hope for her sexual relationship with her husband. It thus came to her, too,
as a gospel text, a promise about God's vision for us that may only be
fully realized at the resurrection, but in some sense will be realized.
If the Bible-believing patriarchal communities of southern Africa or of
the American south or of the flourishing Korean church were to read the
Song of Songs, it could surely be a liberating text that suggested a vision
of an alternative style of being. No doubt it would cause some trouble, too,
as liberation does.
183
Bibliography
Clines, David J.A.
1990
What Does Eve Do to Help? (JSOTSup, 94; Sheffield: JSOT Press).
1995
'Why Is There a Song of Songs and What Does It Do to You If You Read
It?', in Interested Parties: The Ideology of Writers and Readers of the
Hebrew Bible (JSOTSup, 205; GCT, 1; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic
Press): 94-121.
Murphy, Roland E.
1990
The Song of Songs: A Commentary on the Book of Canticles or the Song of
Songs (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress Press).
THE EPHRAIMITE MESSIAH AND THE TARGUM(S) TO ZECHARIAH 12.10

Robert P. Gordon
Zechariah 12 envisages the besieging of Jerusalem by a coalition of 'all

the nations of the earth' (v. 3), and their destruction by God as he moves to
protect the city (v. 9). This saving intervention will be accompaniedor
more probably followedby a nation-wide outbreak of mourning for
someone whom those recently delivered by God had 'pierced' (v. 10). The
remainder of the short chapter emphasizes the intensity of the mourning
for the mysterious figure of v. 10. Comparison is made, for example, with
'the mourning for Hadad Rimmon in the plain of Megiddon' (v. 11).
The Targumic tradition has responded to the obscurity at the heart of
Zech. 12.10 with two distinct interpretations of the 'pierced one'. The standard Targumic version (ST) supplants the idea of piercing with a reference
to exile, while a marginal reading in Codex Reuchlinianus (CR) introduces
the figure of the Messiah son of Ephraim and purports to describe the
circumstances of his death at the hand of the eschatological arch-enemy of
Israel, Gog.
The Marginal Variant
We begin with the CR reading, since it will generate a good proportion of

the discussion that follows. In Reuchlinianus it is accompanied by the siglum trg(wm) yrws(lmy), and is therefore presented as a fragment of'Jerusalem Targum'. It has no known haftaric connection, and its dialect is
'mixed' (Kasher 1996: 223). First a translation into English is offered:
And I shall cause to rest upon the house of David and upon the inhabitants
of Jerusalem the spirit of prophecy and true prayer. And afterwards the
Messiah son of Ephraim will go out to do battle with Gog, and Gog will kill
him in front of the gate of Jerusalem. And they will look to me and inquire
from me why the nations pierced the Messiah son of Ephraim. And they
will mourn for him just as a father and mother mourn for an only son, and
they will lament for him just as they lament for a firstborn.
GORDON The Ephraimite Messiah
185
Two main figures are therefore presented here: the Messiah son of
Ephraim and Gog, the former known mainly from the Targums and (other)
rabbinic references and the latter first appearing in Ezekiel 38-39.
First, we should note that there can be no question of the essentially
Targumic character of the CR variant. The evidence begins with the first
word, since, whereas the ST represents MT 'I will pour' by its cognate
Aramaic verb, the CR variant uses one of the Targumists' stock verbs for
the conveying of ideas of divine presence and activity: 'I will cause to
dwell'. Thus the variant is referring to the divine Spirit when it talks of
'the Spirit of prophecy'.1 The ST may also be speaking of the divine Spirit,
since it also translates 'pour' in Joel 3.1 (2.28), referring to the divine Spirit,
by its Aramaic cognate (cf. also Ezek. 39.29). Still, ST's 'a spirit of mercy
and compassion' may be as ambiguous as the Hebrew that it translates, and
so may not necessarily indicate the divine Spirit. Again, the CR variant's
statement about mourning as for an only son is virtually identical with the
ST version and confirms the closeness of the variant to the Targum
tradition.
The longer text of the CR reading calls for attention not only because of
its portrayal of the conflict between the Ephraimite Messiah and Gog but
also because of the way in which it maintains the vantage point and the
momentum of the ST text just at that point where the latter descends into
obscurity and possibly even grammatical incongruence. This integrality of
the variant with the fabric of the ST version is evident in a couple of ways.
The first is the description of the Ephraimite Messiah going out to confront
Gog, who kills him in front of the gate of Jerusalem. This is very much in
agreement with the thrust of w. 1-9, which are constructed around the
idea of an attack by the nations on Judah and, especially, Jerusalem (w. 23,9). By contrast, one of the puzzling aspects of the ST text is that its reference to scattering or exile introduces a quite distinct topic, even if it is a
commonplace elsewhere in the Targums. Secondly, the CR variant is very
much of a piece with the ST text in its mention of an enemy ruler who
kills an Israelite leader and thereby engulfs the nation in mourning. In this
regard, moreover, the connection is very much with the ST rather than
with the MT; it is the ST that personalizes and expands the MT'S by now
opaque reference to mourning for Hadad-Rimmon. Here 'Hadad-Rimmon'
is disaggregated so as to become an allusion to the death of King Ahab
in the battle at Ramoth Gilead against Benhadad son of Tabrimmon (cf.
1. Cf. 1 Sam. 10.10;Isa. 11.2;inl Sam. 18.10 it is even used of an evil spirit sent
from God to afflict Saul.
186
1 Kgs 15.18; 22.1 -40), and although the identification of Ahab' s opponent
with the Benhadad who was contemporary with Asa (as 1 Kgs 15.18) is
debated, this would not have been a concern of the Targumist. Again, the
mention of Megiddo(n) inspires in the ST a reference to the death of King
Josiah who fell in battle when trying to interrupt Pharaoh Neco's progress
through Judah on his way to the Euphrates (2 Kgs 23.29).
If, therefore, we were to substitute the CR variant for the ST version at
v. 10 we could construct the following set of parallels:
Verse 10
Verse 11
Messiah son of Ephraim

Ahab son of Omri
Josiah son of Amon
whom Gog killed

whom Benhadad son of Rimmon killed
whom Pharaoh the Lame killed
Since the context speaks much of mourning, the appropriateness of Ahab

and Josiah in this setting did not go unremarked by rabbinical interpreters.
Special mourning is associated with the death of Josiah already in the Bible.
According to 2 Chron. 35.24-25 'all Judah and Jerusalem' mourned for
Josiah, Jeremiah composed a lament for him, and a tradition of lamenting
his death continued down the years among the guilds of male and female
singers.2 There is no biblical tradition about mourning for Ahab, but the
claim is made in the Babylonian Talmud (b. M. Qat. 28b), which cites
Zech. 12.11. Clearly, it was on the basis of a Targumic version of Zech.
12.11, or at the very least of a Targum-type explanation of the verse, that
the claim about special mourning for Ahab was made.
The Standard Version
Thus our CR variant is very well suited to the contextual surround of

Zech. 12.10, and in a way that is not true of the ST at v. 10, and so it is to
the ST that we must now turn.
And I shall pour upon the house of David and upon the inhabitants of Jerusalem the spirit of mercy and compassion. And they will entreat from
before me because they were exiled; and they will mourn for him just as
they mourn for an only son, and lament for him as they lament a firstborn.
For the MT'S 'and they will look to me whom they pierced' the ST therefore has 'and they will entreat from before me because they were exiled',
which, as we have noted, represents a distinct change of direction on the
part of the Targum, and the more noticeably so when compared with the
2.
Cf. also, for example, b. M. Qat. 25b.
187
CR alternative. Strack-Billerbeck, however, propose to translate the ST in

a way that avoids this problem. They suggest two possible renderings: 'Sie
werden bitten von vor mir fur die, welche in die Verbannung gingen' and
' Sie werden bitten von vor mir fur den, um dessentwillen sie in die Verbannung gingen' (Strack-Billerbeck, II, 583). They prefer the second option
because it makes for a much better syntactical fit with the rest of the verse,
and they suggest that the Targumist has the Messiah son of Ephraim in
mind. It is in some sense because of the Messiah son of Ephraim that the
people are 'exiled'. So the reference to exile is explained in the light of a
tradition that says that the people of Jerusalem would have to flee Jerusalem for the wilderness when the Ephraimite Messiah was killed (StrackBillerbeck, II, 584).3 However, despite the obvious attraction of this
explanation, there is good reason to question it.
First, the translation itself is not secure. It is not at all certain that 7
d'tltlw can be translated 'for him on whose account they were exiled' (see
below). Secondly, in Leqach Tov on Num. 24.17, which recounts the tradition of the Ephraimite Messiah at length (Buber 1884:258-59), the mourning comes before the withdrawal to the wilderness, and this absence, lasting
45 days, provides the context in which the destinies of righteous and unrighteous Israelites are determined. Thirdly, if the Targum wished to refer
to the Ephraimite Messiah it has behaved most oddly in disregarding the
obvious cue in the MT, namely, the reference to 'piercing'. By comparison,
mention of 'him on whose account they were exiled' is convoluted, even if
it were defensible in other respects. Fourthly, and perhaps because of the
particular eschatological fit that they had in mind, Strack-Billerbeck have
not mentioned a further, and perhaps the more obvious, translation possibility at Zech. 12.10: 'because they were exiled'.4
If this is the appropriate translation, then the Targum is simply resorting
to one of its stock themes when bringing exile centre-stage. Since the
presumption in the text would be that the exiled people of Judah had been
restored to their land, 'because they were exiled' could have a pluperfect
sense, and the whole clause might even imply a measure of repentance for
what had in the first place occasioned the exile. Such a simple reference to
exile at this point would be less context-specific than the alternative about
to be discussed; nevertheless it would be perfectly congruent with the
3. Cf. Strack-Billerbeck, II, 298.
4. The translation of MT 't 'sr by 'because' would parallel LXX anth' hon
('because'; cf. Saeb0 1969: 99). For Targum 'Id- meaning 'because', see Ezek. 39.23,
25, 28, etc.
18 8
Targumic predilection for the theme of exile. Targumists frequently introduce it with or without the encouragement of the MT. If, on the other hand,
the first Strack-Billerbeck possibility ('for those who were exiled') is
preferred, it cannot be the whole community that goes into exile, as in the
Strack-Billerbeck scenario. Nevertheless, an end-time perspective could
be maintained with the help of Zech. 14.2 (MT and Targ.), which talks of
half the city of Jerusalem going into exile (bgwlh) when the nations are
finally assembled against it. In that case, the singular referent in 'they will
mourn for him', closely following the MT, could, with a little goodwill, be
explained within its Targumic setting as a collective, continuing the reference to those who had been exiled from Jerusalem-Judah.
Ezekiel and the Variant
One of the most striking features of the CR marginal text is the time
reference expressed by wmn btr kdyn: ''Andafterwards the Messiah son of
Ephraim will go out to do battle'. The use of this time marker ensures that
we understand that the death of the Ephraimite Messiah takes place after
the accession of the divine Spirit upon the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem, and such an order of events is not to be taken for granted
in a context like this. If we compare, for example, Joel 3.1-5 (2.28-32) on
the subject of the outpouring of the divine Spirit in the end time, the impression conveyed is that this will follow a time of suffering and of attack by
'the northerner' (2.1-17, 20). So 3.5 (2.32) promises deliverance for 'the
survivors whom the Lord calls'. 3.1 (2.28) begins, accordingly, with 'And
afterwards' (Targ. wyhy btr kyn).If, in the case of Zechariah 12, we take
into account the verses immediately preceding v. 10, the contrast between
the conditions following upon God's intervention, as in the chapter, and
the death of the Ephraimite Messiah after the coming of the divine Spirit,
as in the CR variant, becomes more apparent. 'At that time', according to
the MT, God's merciful intervention on behalf of Jerusalem and Judah
would bring it about that even the weak among the citizenry of Jerusalem
would be like David, and that the house of David would exercise its leadership role like the very angel of God (v. 8). At that time, moreover, God
would set out to destroy the nations that attacked Jerusalem (v. 9). This is
poor preparation for the suggestion of a dying messiah outside the gate of
Jerusalem, as in the CR variant.
The CR variant therefore presents an alternative to the basic sequence of
return to Jerusalem-outpouring of divine Spirit-era of prosperity, and the
189
explanation appears to lie in the presentation of Gog and the events surrounding his appearance in Ezekiel 38-39. First, we should note that Ezekiel 36-37 describes the reconstitution of the exiled people of Judah, who
are cleansed from the pollution of their idolatry (36.25) and infused with
the divine Spirit (36.27). Chapter 37 in particular describes the re-creation
of the nation as a 'corporate' entity (w. 1-14) and its unification under a
restored Davidic ruler (w. 15-28). Then Gog comes on the scene, and a
unique perspective on the Judah of the return is offered in ch. 38. For it is
when the Judaeans are restored to their land that Gog makes his attack.
After many days you will be mustered. In future years you will come to a
land that has recovered from the sword, assembled from many nations upon
the mountains of Israel, which had been perpetually desolate. They had
been brought out from the nations, and they all lived in safety. You and all
your troops, and many nations with you, will go up, coming on like a storm,
like a cloud covering the land (Ezek. 38.8-9).
In certain respects the eschatological standpoint of Zech. 12.1-9 corresponds to that of Ezekiel 38-39. Whether or not the CR variant makes this
assumption for the earlier verses of ch. 12 is difficult to judge, given its
isolated (marginal) position in relation to the main text. It itself certainly
seems to reflect the Ezekielan order of events: the divine Spirit remaining
'upon' the restored community, then ('afterwards') the attack by Gog and
the Ephraimite Messiah's death in battle. It differs from the ST version,
where the outpouring of the spirit of compassion and mercy leads to the
beseeching described in the remainder of v. 10. In the variant, then, the
attack of Gog and his allies represents a stage beyond the return of the
exiles to their homeland. So it is in the one passage in the New Testament
where Gog is mentioned: following a thousand-year period of messianic
rule Gog and Magog head up the last outbreak of satanic rebellion before
being destroyed with fire from heaven (Rev. 20.8-9). Somewhat later, the
tradition recounted in Leqach Tov on Num. 24.17 envisages the attack of
Gog after the restoration and prospering of Israel back in their land: 'After
all this Gog-Magog hears and comes up against them'. However, a challenge to this ordering of events can also be found in the ancient sources.
With perhaps more than a hint of pastoral concern, Tar gum Canticles has
the King Messiah counsel the Jewish diaspora to wait until the destruction
of Gog and Magog, so that then God could restore them to the land of
Israel (8.4; cf. 7.13).
That the CR variant is beholden to Ezekiel 38-39 for its event sequencing makes its depiction of Gog as victorious over the Ephraimite Messiah
190
all the more surprising. For, while nothing is implied about the subsequent
fate of Gog, what is said nevertheless contrasts radically with his treatment
in Ezekiel. There God himself declares that he will summon a sword
against Gog on the mountains of Israel (38.21) where Gog is destined to
fall (39.4); it will take the house of Israel seven months to bury all the host
of Gog's fallen warriors, hence the naming of the Valley of the Horde of
Gog (39.11-12).
This destruction of Gog is also mentioned in the Targum tradition. In
Pseudo-Jonathan to Exod. 40.11 the Messiah son of Ephraimsaid here to
be a descendant of the Ephraimite Joshua son of Nunis the one through
whom the house of Israel is to conquer Gog and his allies at the end of the
age. In both Targum Neofiti and a Fragment-Targum version of Num. 11.26,
on the other hand, victory over Gog and Magog is attributed to the King
Messiah (i.e. the Davidic Messiah).5 Both texts also show dependence upon
Ezekiel 39, so that their specific reference to Gog's attack on Jerusalem, as
in the CR variant at Zech. 12.10, is noteworthy. In Ezekiel 38-39 the attentions of Gog are trained on the land and the mountains of Israel, and this
appears to be the assumption in the Pseudo-Jonathan version of Num.
11.26: 'Their corpses shall fall upon the mountains of the land of Israel'.
Perhaps the specific focus on Jerusalem in Targum Neofitiand the Fragment-Targum has been influenced by the like of Zech. 12.2-3, 9.
Antiquity
At the very least, the traditions of interpretation that are reflected in both
the ST text and the CR variant are attested elsewhere in rabbinic literature.
In b. Mo 'ed Qatan 28b R. Akiva quotes Zech. 12.11 (sic), apparently to
show that mourning was made for King Ahab despite a certain lack of
merit on his part. This is followed by a statement by R. Joseph of Pumbeditha confessing that he would not have understood Zech. 12.11 without
5. Cf. Pseudo-Jonathan to Num. 24.17 ('a mighty king of the house of Jacob').
According to Targ. 1 Sam. 2.10 God himself is directly involved in the destruction of
Gog, as in Ezekiel 38-39. In Targ. 2 Sam. 22.49 God delivers David, the speaker in the
chapter, from Gog and the Gentile armies accompanying him. God himself also acts in
Pseudo-Jonathan to Num. 11.26, and in Targ. Ezek. 38-39, though it has to be noted
that the Targum to this prophet universally fails to mention the Messiah; cf. Levey
1974: 85-87. In Targ. Cant. 4.5 the Davidic and Ephraimite Messiahs are mentioned
together as deliverers of Israel.
191
the help of the Targum.6 There are clear implications here for the antiquity
of the extant Targum, since the version quoted by R. Joseph agrees closely,
and there is no reason to assume that the Talmudic quotation has been
assimilated to the ST text.7 That the forerunner of the ST text predated R.
Joseph by a significant period of time seems to be the minimum that we
should conclude from his statement.8
For its part, the CR variant has its interpretative counterpart in b. Suk.
52a, where the Ephraimite Messiah is regarded as a possible referent at
Zech. 12.10. Again, Midrash Rabbah on Numbers (11.6) has an explanation
of the words 'and be gracious to you' in the 'Priestly Blessing' (Num. 6.25)
that depends on Zech. 12.10 as interpreted in the marginal variant. In the
Midrash the verb 'be gracious' is interpreted to mean 'raise up prophets',
on the basis of the expression 'the spirit of grace' as it occurs in Zech.
12.10. However, although the concept of the 'spirit of prophecy' is well
known in the Targumic literature (e.g. Isa. 61.1), and the pouring out of
the divine Spirit is associated with prophesying already in Joel 3.1 (2.28),
there is nothing in MT Zech. 12.10 that explicitly suggests the subject of
prophecy. This is also true of the literalish ST text at this point, but the
marginal version, with 'spirit of prophecy' for 'spirit of grace', provides
the missing link. Again, it is inadvisable to claim that the Midrash presupposes the marginal Targum itself, though this cannot be ruled out.
Priority
The question of the possible priority of the one Targumic reading of Zech.
12.10 over the other inevitably calls for discussion. The use by both versions of the verb b'y in their rendering of MT 'and they will look to me' calls
for comment in this regard:
ST
CR
and they will entreat from before me

and they will look to me and will inquire from me
The translation of BH nbt (hiphil) by Aramaic b'y is not the most obvious
one, and the occurrence of the same Aramaic verb in both the ST and the
6. Similarly in b. Meg. 3a.

7. E contra, the Talmudic quotations of Targum texts can differ significantly from
the standardized version (cf. Zeph. 3.18 as quoted in b. Ber. 28a).
8. The Peshitta agrees with the Targum in rinding a reference to the lamentation
for Josiah ('the son of Amon') in Zech. 12.11, though the MT'S mention of the plain of
Megiddo(n) may have been sufficient inspiration for the Syriac translator.
192
expansive text of the CR variant suggests the possibility of a relationship

of some sort between the two readings. An abridgment theory of the type
that Pierre Grelot invoked to account for the variant texts woven together
as 'Toseftic Targum' at Zech. 2.14-15 would argue that the standard Targum had omitted the literal equivalent of MT 'they will look' and retained
only the amplificatory 'and will inquire from me' (cf. Grelot 1966: 197211). However, there is precedent for the rendering of nbt by b'y (see Isa.
8.22),9 and the issue is slightly complicated by the likelihood that the two
versions use b'y in different senses. The CR variant clearly uses it in the
sense of'ask why': they will inquire why the Ephraimite Messiah has been
allowed to die while in combat with Gog and his armies. In the ST version
the more likely sense is 'entreat': 'they will entreat from before me because
they were exiled'. Even with the other translation possibilities that have
been considered above, some sense such as 'beseech' or 'entreat' would be
appropriate, and still the verb would be differently nuanced from its counterpart in the CR variant. Moreover, the soundness of Grelot's arguments
for taking the toseftic Targum associated with Zech. 2.14-15 as representative of a longer original text that has been abridged to become the standard
version is seriously doubted.10
Identity
There have been various attempts to account for the introduction of the
figure of the Messiah son of Ephraim into Jewish messianism, whether as
a reaction to historical developments of one sort or another, or as an expression of more deeply felt needs within Judaism (Heinemann 1975:1 -15).
In general, the Targum tradition reflects the idea of a triumphant messianic
figure out of the Davidic mould, and the expectation was that this Davidic
Messiah would live forever (Levey 1974: 108). This roseate view is strikingly evident in the Targumic version of Isa. 52.13-53.12 where the Messiah plays a conspicuous part, yet is spared any of the negatives in the
Hebrew text. Here ideas of suffering and servitude are distributed by the
Targumist between Israel and the nations. One short clause in ch. 53 stands
out as a possible exception, when it is said of the Messiah that he 'handed
himself over to death' (v. 12). Whether this actually means that the Messiah died or that he merely risked death is debated. The Hebrew text that is
9. Here the Targum is free: 'And he will seek support from the inhabitants of the
land'.
10. See Kasher 1975-76: 27-45; 1996: 213-19; Gordon 1994: 96-107.
193
thus translated says that the servant 'poured himself out to death', and
could be held to be equally ambiguous, except that the MT original of the
poem has other statements about the servant that would, taken in their
natural sense, imply his death. The argument, sometimes appropriate in
discussion of the Targums, that similarity to the parent Hebrew text may
reduce the significance of a particular rendering as an independent interpretation, hardly applies here in view of the importance of the subject of
the Messiah, the unusual lengths to which the Targumist goes in this chapter in order to protect his understanding of the Messiah's role, and the importance of Isaiah 52-53 in Jewish-Christian polemic.
In Targ. Judg. 5.18 there is a similar statement about the tribe of Zebulun who 'handed themselves over to death',11 but it could be argued that
the same ambiguity applies there. Even so, the mere suggestion that the
Messiah would 'risk his life', if we so limit the sense of the term in Isa.
53.12, is hardly expressive of the ideology of the Davidic Messiah, and
may hint at that diversity of views on the Messiah that could accommodate
even the Ephraimite Messiah. Perhaps it was awareness of this concept of
a dying messiah that allowed the Isaiah Targumist to render the MT relatively literally at this point, when so much else in the chapter was
fundamentally reconstructed.
Those who look for historical causation to explain the Ephraimite
Messiah turn most naturally to Simeon bar Kokhba, who was famously
acclaimed by R. Akiva as a messianic figure.12 However, Bar Kokhba's
revolt against the Romans failed, and he himself became a casualty, following the prolonged siege at Bethar. The traditionwhich in this kind of
discussion is as important as the actual historical factshas it that, when
the Romans took Bethar, Bar Kokhba perished, and his head was removed
and presented to the emperor Hadrian.13 The 'reception-history' of Bar
Kokhba is a complex matter,14 nevertheless there is sufficient positive
treatment of him in Jewish tradition to suggest that his messianic pretensions were not universally dismissed, even after his failed attempt to oust
the Romans.
11. Because the Targum redi vides the MT in its translation of Judg. 5.18 our rendering corresponds to the words 'themselves to death'. It is therefore inappropriate in this
case even to consider the underlying Hebrew as a possible guide to the meaning of the
Targum.
12. For wide-ranging discussion of the Bar Kokhba revolt see Schafer 1981.
13. j. Ta'an. 4.5;Lam. R. 2.4.
14. This provides the focus for the monograph by R.G. Marks (1994).
194
The other main possibility canvassed is that the 'Messiah son of Ephraim'
developed as a reflex of Christian preaching of Jesus as a suffering and
dying messiah. However, key differences between the Christian messianic
concept and the Messiah son of Ephraim (or, Joseph) as depicted in rabbinic sources were already noted by Dalman over a century ago (1888:2223). At the same time, the CR variant's description of the death of the Messiah son of Ephraim does not fit with what is known of Bar Kokhba's death
(see above). Indeed, it could be argued that the Ephraimite Messiah's death
at the hand of Gog 'before the gate of Jerusalem"5 has more in common
with the crucifixion of Christ who, according to the unanimous New Testament tradition, 'suffered outside the gate' of Jerusalem (cf. Heb. 13.12).
Since, however, the view that Bar Kokhba served as a prototype for the
Ephraimite Messiah does not assume his identity with that messiah, we
should not expect a perfect correlation between the two in respect of the
circumstances of their deaths. Even Heinemann's explanation of the death
of the Messiah son of Ephraim as a secondary, Bar Kokhba-influenced,
element in the tradition should not require this degree of correspondence
(Heinemann 1975: 6-10).
The honorand may well regard this (or any) contribution on Targum as
'strange fire', nevertheless it is offered in recognition of the unique talent
and prodigious industry that have served, stimulated and more than once
twitted the Old Testament guild (I almost said 'fraternity') during the past
thirty years.
Bibliography
Buber, S. (ed.)
1884
Chilton, B.D.
1983
Dalman, G.
1888
Gordon, R.P.
1994
Grelot, P.
1966
Lekach-Tob. III. Sepher Bamidbar (Wilna: Romm).

The Glory of Israel: The Theology and Provenience of the Isaiah Targum
(JSOTSup, 23; Sheffield: JSOT Press).
Der leidende und der sterbende Messias der Synagoge im ersten
nachchristlichen Jahrtausend (Berlin: H. Reuther).
Studies in the Targum to the Twelve Prophets: From Nahum to Malachi
(VTSup, 51; Leiden: E.J. Brill).
'Une Tosephta targoumique sur Zacharie, II, 14-15', RB 73: 197-211.
15. According to Leqach Tov on Num. 24.17 Gog kills the Ephraimite Messiah in
the streets of Jerusalem.

Heinemann, J.
1975
Kasher, R.
1975-76
1996
2000
Levey, S.H.
1974
Levine, E.
1988
Marks, R.G.
1994
195
'The Messiah of Ephraim and the Premature Exodus of the Tribe of

Ephraim', HTR 68: 1-15 (also in L. Landman [ed.], Messianism in the Talmudic Era [New York: Ktav, 1979]: 339-53).
'The Targumic Additions to the Haphtara for the Sabbath of Hannuka'
(Heb.), TarWz 45: 27-45.
Targumic Toseftot to the Prophets (Heb.) (Sources for the Study of Jewish
Culture, 2; Jerusalem: World Union of Jewish Studies).
'On the Portrayal of Messiahs in Light of an Unknown Targum to Lam 4:2122', Jewish Studies Quarterly 7: 22-41.
The Messiah: An Aramaic Interpretation (Monographs of the Hebrew Union
College, 2; Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion).
The Aramaic Version of the Bible: Contents andContext (BZAW', 174; Berlin:
W. de Gruyter).
The Image of Bar Kokhba in Traditional Jewish Literature: False Messiah
and National Hero (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University
Press).
Pearson, B.W.R.
'Dry Bones in the Judean Desert: The Messiah of Ephraim, Ezekiel 37, and
1998
the Post-Revolutionary Followers of Bar Kokhba', JSJ29: 192-201.
Saeb0, M.
Sacharja 9-14: Untersuchungen von Text und Form (WMANT, 34; Neu1969
kirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag).
Schafer, P.
1981
Der Bar Kokhba-A ufstand: Studien zum zweiten judischen Krieg (Texte und
Studien zum Antiken Judentum, 1; Tubingen: J.C.B. Mohr [Paul Siebeck]).
Strack, H.L., and P. Billerbeck
1924
Kommentar zum Neuen Testament aus Talmud und Midrasch, II (Munich:
C.H. Beck).
THE PUZZLING POLITICS OF ANCIENT ISRAEL

Norman K. Gottwald
When I began to work on my recent book, The Politics of Ancient Israel, I

encountered a puzzling obstacle to construing the politics of ancient Israel.
I realized that all the political leaders in the Hebrew Bible were at the same
time religious figures, and all the political institutions mentioned were
simultaneously viewed as religious institutions. Moreover, the biblical
descriptions and evaluations of politics were almost entirely cast in a religious voice, to such an extent that it was difficult to grasp the specifically
political character of ancient Israelite life. The success or failure of every
political regime seemed to hinge on the religious policies and practices
honored or violated during its incumbency.
This framing of politics as a reflex of religion was aggravated in the
extreme by the widely recognized fact that the religious standards used to
evaluate Israelite politics were largely those developed during the Deuteronomic Reform of the late seventh century. These standards were applied
anachronistically to the tribal and monarchic periods from the late thirteenth century onward. In effect, political leaders were declared good or
bad on the basis of religious standards that were not in force in their day.
Thus, we have a two-fold blow to our understanding of Israelite politics:
not only is the politics obscured by religion but the reformist religion used
to assess politics was unknown to the earlier political leaders on whom it
is unfairly foisted.
Methodological Strategy
How then are we to access politics so distorted after the fact by retrospective religious judgments? To surmount this obstacle, I decided on two methodological moves. The first was to bracket the overload of late religious
glossing of politics in order to locate the probable political and religious
challenges faced by political leaders from era to era in Israel's history, as
GOTTWALD The Puzzling Politics of Ancient Israel
197
well as the resources and options available to them. What remained was a
sketch of Israel's political history with many gaps and uncertainties. A second methodological move was necessary in order to fill some of the biblical
gaps and to provide a comparative basis for viewing Israel as an ancient
Near Eastern polity. This is best accomplished by drawing on archaeology,
ancient Near Eastern texts, ancient Near Eastern political history and comparative social sciences.
My resulting re-visioning of Israelite politics is one that will seem strange
to Bible readers accustomed to the religious guidelines by which Israel's
history is normally read. The usual reading of Israel's religious and political
history is what I call a 'triumphal back-reading' in terms of the eventual
emergence of Judaism and/or Christianity. On this reading, the aspects of
old Israel that carried over into later Jewish and Christian belief and practice are highlighted as a more-or-less unbroken course of development,
while those aspects that were dropped are dismissed as 'heterodox'. In contrast, the reading of Israel's religious and political history at which I arrived
is what I call a 'non-triumphal forward-reading' in terms of the contingencies and crises at each stage of the history, taking into account all discernible religious stances relevant to politics, and without any attempt to
force the outcome in a direction compatible with later Jewish or Christian
developments. This of course means that I 'suspend' the canonical status
of the biblical writings in order to let them speak for themselves in the
context provided by extrabiblical sources. I do so in the confidence that the
value of biblical religion and politics for today will have to adjust to the
down-sized reading that I conclude best accords with ancient Israelite experience. With this context in mind, let me describe the gist of my critically imaginative account of ancient Israelite politics.
Three Zones of Ancient Israel's Politics
Ancient Israel passed through three major zones of political organization
in its long history from the thirteenth and twelfth centuries to the end of
the biblical period, which for my purposes I define, against all prevailing
convention, as the second century CE. These three zones of political organization may be characterized as the tribal era (c. 1225-1000 BCE), the monarchic era (c. 1000-586 BCE), and the colonial era (c. 586 BCE-135 CE,
interrupted by a brief revival of the monarchy under the Hasmonean dynasty, 140-63 BCE, and extending on for centuries thereafter until the inclusion of Jews as citizens of modern states). It is important to note that these
eras did not totally displace one another, since institutional and ideological
198
aspects of the tribal era live on under the monarchy, and both tribal and
monarchic memories and aspirations appear in the colonial period. Nevertheless, these three zones or horizons constituted the dominant and determinative political regimes in three successive eras of ancient Israel's history.
As is now widely recognized, the determinative literary voices of the
Hebrew Bible speak from a colonial context in which traditions from tribal
and monarchic times are assembled, often revised or glossed, and included
either within or alongside fresh traditions. As a result of this elongated
literary trajectory involving sources that are cumulative and temporal
in depth, political data about ancient Israel are 'dispersed' and 'scrambled'
throughout the sources. While the dominant political perspective is colonial, some of the details and dynamics, as well as the ideologies, of tribal
and monarchic politics are retained amid the recast traditions. These surviving features of pre-colonial politics can be assessed for their plausibility
in the light of extrabiblical information and with the help of comparative
social science models.
Tribal and Monarchic Politics
An examination of the rich trove of archaeological finds, replete with information about ancient Near Eastern states, demonstrates that the Israelite
monarchic experience recounted in the Hebrew Bible is a familiar instance
of the many small to mid-size tributary monarchies in Syro-Palestine. With
the assistance of this body of information, a stratum of politically authentic
information in the Bible is thus separable from its heavy handed religious
overlay. As a tributary monarchy, Israel's political structures and strategies
were remarkably similar to those of other such agrarian states ruled by small
elites whose lifeblood was drawn from a peasant population vulnerable to
famine, warfare, taxation and debt. Israelite states engaged surrounding
states in commerce, diplomacy and warfare, participated in shifting alliances, and in the end were destroyed by two of the dominant powers,
Assyria and Neo-Babylonia. In spite of the biblical premise that the Law
of Moses predated the tribal and monarchic eras, and that its laws should
be regulative of Israelite politics, there is very little indication that these
laws had significant effect on Israel's kings or even that most of the laws
were known to them. In all fundamental respects, Israel's monarchy was
like other ancient Near Eastern monarchies, oriented to the interests of the
ruling elite and for the most part dismissive of the interests of the populace
at large in spite of the political rhetoric trumpeting their just and peaceful
rule.
199
Taking into account advances in our knowledge of the multiple, often

competitive, forms ofpre-exilic Israelite religion, it is reasonable to conclude that the cult of Yahweh, while a creative force in the tribal era and the
official state religion under the monarchy, was neither dominant enough
nor sufficiently unified in its diverse manifestations to shape the politics of
the Israelite states in a decisive manner, even though various versions of
Yahwism were enlisted in political causes and conflicts. A royal theology,
premised on a divine covenant with David and the sanctity of Jerusalem,
gave ideological validation to the state, but it was counterbalanced and often
opposed by familial, local and regional forms of Yahweh worship, especially in the north but also in Judah. Some of these non-royalist religious
currents were rooted in a notion of kinship between the deity and the people, sometimes articulated as a covenant that bypassed kingship or radically
subordinated centralized politics to its more 'populist' terms. A broad spectrum of non-Jerusalemite practices is summed up by the author of Kings as
illicit worship at 'the high places'. Worship of Baal and Asherah, either
openly or in sublimated form in Yahwistic circles, frequently added to the
Israelite religious melange. Prophets, variously aligned with diverse forms
of Yahwism, sometimes supported but more often criticized the foreign
and domestic policies of kings. It would not be amiss to speak in the plural
of the religions of ancient Israel prior to the reforming monotheism of
colonial times.
It is, I conclude, a mistake to claim that somehow a covenant-based form
of Yahwism, stemming from Moses and associated with reforming kings
such as Joash, Hezekiah and Josiah, was controllingor even influential
in monarchic politics. Even though Deuteronomy tries to subject the king
to the covenant mediated through Moses, it is clear that few kings before
Josiah and none after him regarded themselves beholden to covenant politics. Alleged 'checks and balances' in Israelite governance are dubiously
attested. The 'people of the land' referred to in some texts were ad hoc
groupings with particular political interests, and not a representative assembly of leading citizens or a council of state. Prophets who railed against
state politics had no political channels to work through other than to confront the kings and their bureaucrats directly with religious inducements
and threats. Israelites who might consider themselves equals under Mosaic
Yahwism were not 'citizens' in a constitutional state but 'subjects' of a
tributary state. Such 'seeds' of democracy or popular rule as might be
located in the Hebrew Bible are at best implicit in its religious pronouncements and critiques but not in the political practice it reports. The frequent
200
theme of royal obligation to enact social justice is more indebted to a general ancient Near Eastern notion than to any specific Israelite religious
dictum.
Less biblical and extrabiblical information is available concerning tribal
and colonial politics. Nevertheless, a feature of the political traditions in
the Hebrew Bible that is not found in other ancient Near Eastern states is
its inclusion of a sizable body of traditions from the tribal era, largely concentrated in Joshua and Judges. While a history of the tribal era, or even a
full profile of its social organization, is not reconstructible at present, the
clear signs of a loose pre-state association of peasants and herders are
evident in the biblical text and in archaeological finds. Why was this eccentric body of pre-state lore preserved? The answer appears to be that it
served the political and religious interests of subsequent Israelites, especially in the colonial era when Israelites were thrown into a stateless condition analogous in some ways to the tribal period. In reinforcing the
attribution of Israelite law to Moses, colonial Israelites were downplaying
the failed monarchy and reconnecting with the traditional fountainhead of
the tribal period. To be sure, we have no historical evidence of an exodus
or of a Moses, but their prominence in biblical lore attests to the importance that colonial Yahwists attached to cultural and religious foundations
independent of monarchic structures and policies. Traces of such nonstatist, even anti-statist, foundations are discernible in the fragmentary tribal
traditions that have survived editing and re-editing.
Colonial Politics
So we are brought to a critical question: if the tenacity of ancient Israel as
a people is not creditable either to its political institutions or to a completed
revelation of its religion to Moses at the beginning of its history, to what
factors and forces is that tenacity and creativity to be attributed? My tentative conclusion is that the cultural and religious vibrancy of Israel's tribal
era, surviving as a substratum under the monarchy, eventually fructified
the energies and commitments of colonial Israelites to fashion a fundamentally 'a-political' mode of communal life. In the process, the ancient
tribal cult of Yahweh, emerging out of its Canaanite milieu, enriched by
royal, wisdom and prophetic elements during the monarchy, was shaped
into the literate monotheism of colonial times. The evolving Hebrew Bible
caught up traditions from the several stages of this religious development,
downplaying politics but not entirely effacing the political counterpoints to
this long cultural and religious struggle.
201
The politics recounted or implied in the Hebrew Bible, however, are not
sufficient to grasp the full course of biblical politics vis-a-vis its religion.
In my view it is necessary to extend the story line well beyond the usual
'ending' of the biblical era in the fourth or third century BCE. My study
convinces me that thefundamental sociopolitical and religious dynamics
of the biblical period extend on as far as the second century CE. In this misnamed 'intertestamentar period, Israel made three bids for political independence, once successfully against the Hellenistic Seleucid Empire and
twice unsuccessfully against Rome. The eighty-year rule of the Hasmonean
dynasty was opposed by many Judahites because of its religious irregularities and its socially repressive policies, to such an extent that in the end
Judahites preferred rule by Rome rather than by corrupt native kings. But
soon the yoke of Roman rule grew heavy and two uprisings by Judahite
nationalists in 66-70 and 132-35 CE were crushed. In this same period, the
religion of Israel had an institutional center in the Jerusalem Temple, until
it was destroyed in 70 CE, and it cherished a body of traditions carrying
considerable authority but not as yet delimited in contents and, more importantly, not as yet submitted to a commonly agreed upon hermeneutics.
As a result, many 'brands' of Yahwistic religion competed for dominance but without resolution until the emergence of Rabbinic Judaism. It
is to be noted that the blossoming of Rabbinic Judaism, with its delimited
canon and consensual hermeneutics, was made possible by the utter failure
of the attempts to re-establish Israelite statehood. Provincial in their
religious interests and alienated from large numbers of their compatriots,
neither the Hasmonean state nor the Jerusalem Temple priesthood was
able to achieve religious stability among the competing forms of Yahwism. It was the 'a-political' lay rabbis who managed, via Mishnah and
Gemara, to fashion a communal polity in which longstanding arguments
about textual interpretation and cultic practice could be peacefully adjudicated. Only with this rabbinic achievement is it correct to speak of
Judaism in the singular, since all that preceded it were various 'Judahisms'. At one stroke, the rabbinic consensus shaped the Jewish community
as a 'surrogate state' under the aegis of a life-affirming and socially bonding interpretation of canonized Scripture.
Looking back over the whole course of Israelite politics, I believe it is
fair to say that the Israelite people never managed to develop a political
structure that matched the creativity and novelty of the culture and religion
they produced. Moreover, beyond a general aspiration that their form of
rule should be accordant with religious ideals and respectful of ordinary
202
Judahites, they never developed a conception or model of political order as

a viable alternative to the tributary or imperial state. The political visions
they entertained harked back vaguely to tribal comradeship, or longed for
a truly righteous king, or projected harmonious rule by the righteous after
foreign and domestic sinners would be annihilated All these nostalgic and
Utopian visions, powerful as protests against abusive politics, depended on
religious loyalties as the basis for resolving the dilemmas inherent in the
exercise of corporate power. But the hoped-for religious solidarity was
itself an issue of political dispute, and the longed-for derivation of the ends
and means of political order from religious solidarity remained unspecified
and unrealized.
The Political Legacy of Ancient Israel
Finally, what is the contribution of ancient Israelite politics to contemporary political thought and practice? I conclude that the legacy of ancient
Israelite politics provides us with no distinctive politics and with no template for translating culture and religion into a viable polity. To be sure,
ancient Israel's politics have been repeatedly mined for the support of the
divine right of kings, revolution against unjust authority, covenant-based
commonwealths, liberal democracy, religious nationalism, anarchism,
capitalism and socialism. This habit of biblical proof-texting to validate
one or another form of politics has been tempting because of the religious
and cultural authority invested in the Hebrew Bible. The small 'grain of
truth' in this practice is that the unsystematized and unreconciled political
structures, practices and viewpoints expressed in the Hebrew Bible contain
elements that appear to have certain affinities with a wide spectrum of
western political systems. The nearest 'whole view' of ancient Israelite politics I have been able to conjure in my critical imagination is that of a tributary agrarian monarchy, preceded by a loose association of tribes exercising
diffused power and authority, and followed by semi-autonomous religiocultural enclaves incorporated into monarchic empires.
As far as I can determine, none of these political forms is transferable
into contemporary politics. They cannot be transferred as a whole, or in
selected parts, if only because the course of world history has unfolded far
beyond the adequacy of ancient models to do more than inform us of the
sources of some of our notions and sentiments about politics and to
highlight political dilemmas that have been with us since 'the dawn of
civilization'. The modern state of Israel, committed to its biblical roots,
203
has not been able to recuperate a coherent biblical politics that can resolve
the conflicting claims of religious nationalism and liberal democracy. Various attempts to conceive the United States theopolitically as a 'New Israel'
have foundered on the shoals of religious diversity and liberal democracy.
The gulf between culture/religion on the one hand and politics on the other
was never successfully bridged in ancient Israel, nor has it ever been in the
long and uneasy relations between these two divergent networks of social
power. The rise of liberal democracies, with their separation of church
and state, attests to the systemic weaknesses and gross abuses of polities
grounded in religion, while leaving unsettled the ontological and moral
foundations of these religiously neutral states.
My conclusion that biblical politics are of limited value for contemporary political theory and practice should not be construed to imply that
there is no basis for judging between political systems and particular political establishments. It is rather to say that our political judgments must
involve a web of pragmatic, historical, moral, religious and philosophical
considerations, within which the Hebrew Bible is but one modest resource,
more cautionary than instructive in its effects. Indeed, those biblical interpreters who invite us to revel in the literary artfulness of the Hebrew Bible,
without trying to draw lessons from it, may offer the wisest counsel on
biblical politics. It is perhaps the very 'disconnect' between religion and
politics that constitutes one aspect of the enduring attraction of the Hebrew
Bible, since in its pages we are invited to rehearse critically and imaginatively the political dilemmas that still bedevil us in a modern/postmodern
world, and thus to note how even the most religious of peoples can flounder when it comes to politics.
Bibliography
Gottwald, N.K.
2001
The Politics of Ancient Israel (Library of Ancient Israel; Louisville, KY:
Launderville, D.
2003
Piety and Politics: The Dynamics of Royal Authority in Homeric Greece,
Biblical Israel, and Old Babylonian Mesopotamia (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans).
Mann, M.
1986
The Sources of Social Power. I. A History of Power from the Beginnings to
AD 1760 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).
Pleins, D.
2001
The Social Visions of the Hebrew Bible: A Theological Introduction (Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press).
204
Sharkansky, I.
1996
Israel and its Bible: A Political Analysis (New York: Garland).
Walzer, M. et al.
2000
The Jewish Political Tradition. I. Authority (New Haven: Yale University
Press).
Zevit, Z.
2001
The Religions of Ancient Israel: A Synthesis ofParallactic Approaches (New
York: Continuum).
WERE THE PRE-MACCABEAN HIGH PRIESTS 'ZADOKITES'?

Lester L. Grabbe
It has been commonplace to speak of the pre-Maccabean high priests as

Zadokites. Just to give one example from a well-known older work, G.H.
Box and W.O.E. Oesterley refer to 'the pre-Maccabean high-priests who
were descended from Zadok' (Box and Oesterley 1913:277). A quite recent
example, from the Encyclopedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls, shows that the
conventional view is still widespread, with statements that the priests under
the Seleucids were 'Zadokite' but that Menelaus was a 'non-Zadokite' who
ousted the 'Zadokite dynasty' (Falk 2000: 362).
It is conventionally argued, therefore, that a crisis developed at the time
of the Maccabean revolt when the office of high priest passed out of the
Zadokite family. Thus, when Jason replaced his brother Onias (2 Mace.
4.7-10), this might have been an illegitimate usurpation of power, but at
least the office was kept in the family, so the story goes. With Menelaus,
however, the high priesthood left the traditional Zadokite family and went
to another priestly family (2 Mace. 4.23-25).1 After Menelaus was executed,
Alcimus was appointed as high priest but, although of the tribe of Aaron,
he was not of the Zadokite line (1 Mace. 7.11-14; 2 Mace. 14.3, 13; cf.
Josephus,Ant. 12.9.7 387; 20.10.3 235). After his death, the office of high
priest was probably vacant for a period of time.2 Then Jonathan Maccabee
1. The main Greek manuscripts of 2 Mace. 3.4 (cf. 4.34) suggest that Menelaus
was a Benjaminite and thus of a non-priestly tribe. However, it is now widely accepted
that the preferred reading (preserved in the Latin textual tradition) should be Balgea,
which designates a family of priests. See the critical text of Kappler and Hanhart
(1976) and the discussion in Grabbe (1992: 377-78).
2. In Ant. (12.10.6 414, 419; 12.11.2 434) Josephus states that Judas the
Maccabee was high priest for three years, although elsewhere (Ant. 20.10.3 237) he
seems to accept that the office was vacant for seven years after the death of Alcimus. It
has also been suggested that the Qumran 'Teacher of Righteousness' held the office
during this time (Murphy-O'Connor 1976), though this is very much a minority point
of view (cf. Burgmann 1980; Wise 1989-90).
206
took the office (1 Mace. 10.17-21), and it remained in the Hasmonean

family until the reign of Herod, at which time it became the practice for
Herodean rulers and the Romans to set up individuals in the office from a
number of priestly familiesand to depose them quite frequently (Grabbe
1992:386-91).
The question before us is this: until Menelaus disrupted the traditional
line of high priests, was the family seen as Zadokite? To put it another
way, did the Jewish people as a whole see Menelaus, Alcimus and the Maccabees as illegitimate because they were not Zadokite? It is this issue that I
wish to explore in the present article.
Survey of Texts
Hebrew Bible
Zadok first appears, without father or mother or genealogy, in 2 Sam. 15.2436.3 It has been argued that Zadok's sudden and mysterious appearance is
due to his being a priest of the old Jerusalem Jebusite cult whom David took
over to consolidate Jebusite and Jerusalemite inhabitants. Although this
thesis has been contested, it seems to me to have a good deal of merit,4 but
this point is not really relevant for present purposes and will not detain
us. Despite the importance of Zadok in this and a few other passages (e.g.
1 Kgs 1), little is made of him in other biblical passages. Yet it is often
asserted that at the time of Josiah's cultic reform, the Jerusalem priests
were Zadokite, and that they continued to dominate the Jerusalem priesthood despite attempts by other groups and families of clergy to obtain
greater rights and status.5
3. Zadok is first mentioned in 2 Sam. 8.17, but the text is problematic. It seems to
say that Zadok is son of Ahitub and Ahimelech is son of Abiathar; however, elsewhere
Ahitub is the father of Ahimelech who is father of Abiathar (1 Sam. 22.20). This suggests that the text is corrupt here and that the original had a genealogy of Abiathar, like
that in 1 Sam. 22.20, but not of Zadok.
4. The thesis seems to have been developed in detail by H.H. Rowley (1939),
though Wellhausen already suggests such a view (Wellhausen 1871: 176-77). See
Grabbe (1995: 61-62) for a bibliography of the main studies and a discussion of the
various arguments. Those who have opposed it are Cross (1973:209-14), followed by
Ramsey (1992). This thesis has recently been favoured by Albertz (1994: 129) and
Schaper (2000: 93, 270).
5. The most recent argument for this scenario is given by Schaper (2000), Nurmela
(1998) and Albertz (1994: 220-21). See also Gunneweg (1965) and Cody (1969).
GRABBE Were the Pre-Maccabean High Priests 'Zadokites'? 207

The exception is Ezek. 40.46; 43.19; 44.15; 48.11. Here the priesthood
is divided into two classes, the altar priests who are the 'sons of Zadok'
(plliJ n ]H) and the 'sons of Levi' who are lower clergy. This division
is not unusual in the sense that the P document also divides between the
Aaronites who are altar priests and the Levites (e.g. Num. 8), but Ezekiel
is unique in the Hebrew Bible in referring to the altar priests as 'sons of
Zadok'. However, in Ezekiel's world all altar priests are 'sons of Zadok',
not the high priest in particular.
In the books of Chronicles Zadok is firmly in the line of Aaron. This is
clear in the high priestly genealogy which makes Zadok a descendant of
Aaron through his son Eleazar (1 Chron. 5.29-41 [Eng. 6.3-15]; 6.35-38
[Eng. 6.50-53]; 24.3,6). The high priest Azariah in the time of Hezekiah is
said to be of the 'house of Zadok' (2 Chron. 31.10). The books of Ezra and
Nehemiah seem to have the same tradition, with Ezra tracing his genealogy back through Zadok to Aaron (Ezra 7.2) while Zadok is the grandson
ofAhitub(Neh. 11.11).
Unfortunately, the statements about Aaron as a priest or as the ancestor
of the altar priests seem to be primarily in late texts.6 The many references
in the Pentateuch are mainly from the books of Exodus, Leviticus and Numbers, and seem to be from the P source. After the many references in the
Pentateuch, one is surprised to find Aaron's name largely absent from the
Deuteronomistic History. Joshua 21.13-19 describes the cities assigned to
Aaron's descendents. It is debated whether this is a pre-exilic or post-exilic
passage.7 Apart from Joshua 21.13-19, the references to Aaron appear in
the Deuteronomistic History in Josh. 24.33 (which states that Eleazar was
the son of Aaron), Judg. 20.28 (stating that Phinehas was son of Eleazar
who was son of Aaron the priest) and 1 Sam. 12.6, 8 (Moses and Aaron
appointed by YHWH). Josh. 24.33 and Judg. 20.28 are usually interpreted
as postexilic passages, while 1 Sam. 12.6, 8 does not say that Aaron was a
priest. Similarly, the single mention of Aaron in the Prophets associates
Aaron with Moses but does not say he was a priest (Mic. 6.4).
The picture of Aaron in the books of Chronicles is very much that of P:
the altar priests are from Aaron. The Levites have important roles, though
their role is secondary to that of the Aaronites (cf. 1 Chron. 23-26). The
exclusive right of Aaronites to preside at the altar is given graphic illustration in 2 Chron. 26.16-21, in which King Uzziah contracts leprosy for
6. A good discussion of the Aaron tradition is given by Spencer (1992).
7. Cf. Schaper (2000:172-73), who argues for postexilic dating, with Cody (1969:
162-63) and Nurmela (1998:76-80), who think it shows a pre-exilic reference to Aaron.
208
attempting to offer incense. The references in the Psalms are generally

thought to be postexilic (105.26; 115.10,12; 118.3), though there is a question about Psalm 118.8
The problem is that there are several passages that give a negative view
of Aaron. In the golden calf incident, the general view is that Aaron is also
criticized (Exod. 32; Deut. 9).9 It is conventional to see this chapter in its
present form as a criticism of the bull cult at Bethel. If so, the inference is
that the Bethel priesthood was Aaronite, which raises the question of when
the Jerusalem priests also came to be considered Aaronite. A second negative passage is found in Numbers 12 where Miriam and Aaron speak against
Moses. Miriam seems to be the main culprit, but Aaron hardly comes off
very well. Thus, the picture that emerges in this analysis is that Aaron was
a priestly group, perhaps based in Bethel, but opposed by other groups
who had a hand in the process of transmitting the tradition. It was only in
the postexilic period that the Aaronites became the dominant group and
impressed their identity on all the altar priests.10
As for the priests in the pre-exilic period, the picture given in SamuelKings is one in which David has two main priests, but at the end of his life
one (Abiathar) is disqualified and banished (1 Kgs 2.26-27). The remaining
priest is Zadok. The impression given is that from then on the priests were
of the line of Zadok, though this is not stated. If other groups of priests
served at the altar, there is no information on them in the text. This picture
is very hypothetical, of course, and the history of the priesthood before the
end of the monarchy is likely to have been rather more complicated than
just described. For example, John Bartlett has shown that from the named
high priests in the Deuteronomistic History and in Chronicles it would be
difficult to argue that the same family held the high priesthood through the
centuries, despite the genealogies. This goes contrary to the picture given
in various re-creations.11
8. Kraus gives the view that the date of its origins cannot be determined and that
the 'late dating widely accepted cannot be proved with certainty' (1989: 390).
9. There are those who see the negative comment as aimed primarily at the people
rather than at Aaronites (Gunneweg 1965: 30-36; Nurmela 1998:37-38). In any case, it
is widely accepted that the original story was probably pro-Aaron, with the anti-Aaron
tone the result of later editing (cf. Albertz 1994: 145; Schaper 2000: 276).
10. Cf. Schaper (2000: 269-79), who suggests how this came about.
11. As Bartlett (1968) shows, the genealogies do not contain all the names of those
alleged to be practising high priests in the narrative texts, nor do the narratives suggest
that the succession was always from father to son.

Other Early Jewish Texts
One would think that Zadok and the Zadokites would have an important
place in later Judaism. Surprisingly, they are completely absent from much
of the literature of Second Temple Judaism. This is in spite of the fact that
priests in general and the high priest in particular are often mentioned in
these texts.
Hecataeus ofAbdera. Writing about 300 BCE, Hecataeus gives a description of Judah in his own time. We do not have Hecataeus directly but only
as quoted in Diodorus Siculus (40.3.1-7), and the precise source of his information is not known.12 However, in this case the question of historicity is
not really the primary concern; whatever Hecataeus's source our interest is
in the interpretation of the priests given there. According to his account,
Moses established the temple and cult and originated the priesthood by
selecting those men of greatest ability. The priest of greatest virtue and
wisdom is chosen to be high priest. Nothing is said about Aaron or about a
hereditary priesthood or high priesthood.
Ben Sira. In 45.6-22 is a panegyric on Aaron which seems to be based
mostly or entirely on information in the Pentateuch. Aaron is of the tribe
of Levi, the brother of Moses, and is given the priesthood. His 'heritage'
presumably meaning the priesthoodis for his descendants alone (45.25).
Although the Levites are not otherwise mentioned in the book, it is likely
that Ben Sira's view of them is the same as that found in the Pentateuch.13
Chapter 50 is a hymn of praise to the high priest Simon. Although his
genealogy is not given, the expression 'sons of Aaron' is twice used of his
companions in the cultic celebration (50.13,16). The Hebrew text of Ben
Sira contains a section in 51.12 that does not occur in the Greek. Here the
statement is made, 'Give thanks to the one who chose the sons of Zadok
for the priest(hood)' (51.12i: ]HD^ pTTH 'm IITD1? ITin).
1 Enoch. The Animal Apocalypse, which traces history from Adam to
Judas Maccabeus, naturally has several allusions to Aaron (89.18,31,37).
However, none of these mentions that he held the office of priest.
12. See Grabbe (1992: 173; 2000: 37-39) for a discussion of Hecataeus's account,
including possible sources of his account.
13. I have argued that Ben Sira knew the Pentateuch in much the form we now
have it (Grabbe 2001), and the information given here seems to come entirely from the
text of the Pentateuch rather than a separate tradition. If so, this means that Ben Sira is
likely to have accepted the picture of the priesthood, with the Aaronite priests presiding
at the altar and Levites as lower clergy, that we find in the present form of the Pentateuch.
210
Testament ofLevi and Related Literature. The relationship of the Greek

text of Testament ofLevi to the Hebrew text found in the Cairo Genizah
(CTLevi ar) and Qumran (1Q21; 4Q213; 4Q213a; 4Q213b; 4Q214;
4Q214a; 4Q214b) continues to be debated. For our purposes here we need
note only that all the writings seem concerned to present Levi as already
having been chosen to serve as a priest, contrary to the text of Genesis
which makes no such statement. The (fictional) setting of all these writings
is the lifetime of the patriarch Levi or shortly afterward. Therefore, it is
hardly surprising that they mention neither Aaron nor Zadok.
Tobit. There is a reference in 1.7 to 'the priests, the sons of Aaron' in
the extant Greek versions (B, A and Sinaiticus; this passage is not preserved in the Qumran fragments).14
Jubilees. This book has a particular interest in the priesthood (especially
in 30.18-20; 31.11-17; 32.8-9). Not surprisingly, though, the office and
statements all focus on Levi, Jacob's son, since the book is supposedly
being revealed to Moses and written down by him. Although there is
opportunity for Aaron to be mentioned at the beginning and end of the
book, there is no reference to him. Jubilees' parallels to the Pentateuch
cease at just about the point where Aaron and his sons are put forward as
priests in Exod. 28.1.
1 Maccabees. In 7.5-25 the appointment of Alcimus as high priest (to
replace Menelaus who had been executed [2 Mace. 13.3-8]) is described.
A significant segment of the Jews, including the Hasidim, seem to have
been content with this appointment. The reason for the Hasidim's acceptance of Alcimus is that a priest 'from the seed of Aaron' (1 Mace. 7.14: EK
TOU atrepnaTos Aapcov) had come.
Letter of(Pseudo-)Aristeas. The high priest, who is named as Eleazar, is
mentioned quite a few times (1,6,11,32, 35,41,51, 81, 83,96,112,123,
126, 172-73, 320). Nothing further is known of such a high priest during
this time, and it could be a name simply used for purposes of the story
because of priestly resonances (e.g. Eleazar the son of Aaron who succeeded him [Num. 20.23-28]). General references to priests are also found
(53, 87,92,310), but there is no statement that connects either the priests
or the high priest to Aaron or Zadok or even Levi.
Judith. The book has several references to the 'high priest' (6 iepeus o
(jeyas) Joakim in Jerusalem (4.6, 8, 14; 15.8). There are also two refer-
14. On the text of Tobit, see especially Fitzmyer 1995a; also Thomas 1972. For the
Hebrew and Aramaic texts at Qumran (4Q196-200), see Fitzmyer 1995b.

ences to 'priests' in general (4.14; 11.13), but no further designation occurs
in the book.
Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum (Pseudo-Philo). This book covers from
creation to the death of Saul. Perhaps if it had extended a bit further,
Zadok would have been included. As it is, the focus is very much on
Moses, to the point that Aaron is hardly mentioned. Nevertheless, Aaron's
priesthood is not in doubt. The golden calf incident is covered, though no
blame seems to be attached to Aaron (12.1-7). In the rebellion of Korah,
Aaron's priesthood is confirmed (17.1-4; 52.2; 53.9). Both Moses and
Aaron are said to be priests (51.6).
Josephus. He has a number of statements about the high priesthood,
beginning with Aaron and continuing to the fall of the temple in 70 CE.
First, he talks of the high priesthood to the time of Solomon (Ant. 5.11.5
361-62). Next, he describes the transfer of the high priesthood from the
family of Eli to the house of Zadok (Ant. 8.1.3 11-12), giving a
genealogy of Zadok based on 1 Chron. 6.35-38 (Eng. 6.50-53). He goes on
to say that eighteen further individuals held the high priesthood to the
destruction of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar, but he does not name them
or make any point of their being descendants of Zadok (Ant. 20.10.2
231-32). He notes that after Onias's death in the time of Antiochus
Epiphanes, the office of high priest was taken by lakimos (Alcimus) who
was descended from Aaron but was not of the same family as Onias (Ant.
20.10.3 235). He may well be dependent on 1 Mace. 7.14 for this information. Josephus would no doubt have argued that the line of Onias would
ultimately be traced back to Zadok; on the other hand, he makes no
statement about the Oniads being 'Zadokite'. If Josephus thought of the
high priests of Onias's line as being Zadokites in particular (as opposed to
Eleazarites, Simonites, Oniads), he never says so. In other words, Zadok
would most likely have been seen by Josephus as forming part of Onias's
lineage, but that is a separate matter from naming the whole line after
Zadok. He may well have viewed all priests as descendants of Zadok, not
just the Oniads.
Qumran Texts[5
The term 'sons of Zadok' (pllil "3D) is a standard one in a number of the
Qumran and related texts. In several texts this term is evidently applied to
all priests within the community (1QS 5.2, 9; lQSa 1.2, 24; 2.3; lQSb
3.22; 4Q266 fr. 5 lb.16); indeed, the term 'son of Zadok' seems synony15. For an important study that covers all the texts, see Davies 2000.
212
mous with 'priest'. Ezek. 44.15 is quoted in the Damascus Document (CD
3.21-4.6), yet here it is allegorized to refer to aspects of the history of the
community. In 4QFlorilegium Ezek. 44.10 is quoted and applied to the
'sons of Zadok and the men of their counsel who are pursuing righteousness' (4Q174.16-17). (The reference in 4QpIsc [= 4Q163] 22.1.3 is too
fragmentary to give any context.)
Alongside references to 'sons of Zadok', we find the term 'sons of
Aaron' used apparently in a similar sense. 1QS, which has several references to the 'sons of Zadok the priests' as noted above, also has references
to the 'sons of Aaron' (1QS 5.21-22; 9.6-7), who seem to have the same
place and function in the community as 'the priests' (e.g. 1QS 6.8, 19).
lQSa also speaks of the 'sons of Aaron the priests' (1.15; 2.13; cf. 1.23)
just as it speaks of the 'sons of Zadok the priests' (1.2, 24; 2.3). 1QM
speaks of some 'priests from the sons of Aaron' (7.10) and mentions the
'covenant of an everlasting [priesthood]' made with Eleazar and Ithamar,
the two sons of Aaron (17.2). In accordance with well-established usage in
the Pentateuch, the Temple Scroll not unsurprisingly speaks of 'the priests,
the sons of Aaron' (11QT 22.5; 34.13).
We should be careful about imposing a single viewpoint on the various
Qumran scrolls, even those which have been widely identified as stemming
from the same community. But in 1QS and lQSa the terms 'sons of Zadok',
'sons of Aaron' and 'priests' all seem to be synonymous.
New Testament
No references to Zadok the priest are found in New Testament texts.16
There are several references to Aaron, however. Acts 7.40 contains a brief
reference to Aaron in connection with the golden calf incident. The book
of Hebrews has a good deal of discussion about the priesthood in the context of investigating the divine priesthood of Jesus. His position as priest
after the order of Melchizedek is contrasted with the earthly Aaronite priesthood (7.11). Heb. 5.4 mentions that the high priest is called by God just as
Aaron was, implying that the high priest is an Aaronite. In 9.4 reference is
made to Aaron's rod that budded, which established his authority in the
priesthood (Num. 17). Thus, whatever else the priesthood might have been,
it was Aaronite.
16. A Zadok (Sadok) is found in the genealogy of Jesus (Mt. 1.14 [also Lk. 3.23-31
in manuscript D]), but this figure would be of the tribe of Judah, not of the priestly line.

Summary and Conclusions
The results of our investigation allow us to answer the question posed by
the title of this article. As so often, though, the answer is not a straight yes
or no. The following points summarize the situation as it emerges from an
examination of the relevant texts.
1. During the time of the First Temple under the monarchy, a number of
priestly groups seems to have existed. The Deuteronomistic History tells a
story of two priests under David: Abiathar and Zadok. Under Solomon,
however, the former was dismissed, with the implication that the priesthood was exclusively the prerogative of Zadok and his descendants. Yet
little reference is made to Zadok after 1 Kings 1, and the Jerusalem priests
are not referred to as 'Zadokites'. As for the other priestly groups, the
'Levites' at some point joined the temple (under Josiah, is the general
view) but only as second-class clergy. The place of the 'sons of Aaron' is
variously debated, though many think they were not part of the Jerusalem
temple establishment at this time; they are frequently thought to have had
a base in Bethel.
2. Although initially without a clear genealogy, Zadok became assimilated to the Aaronite line, as attested by the genealogies in 1 Chronicles
(5.29-41 [Eng. 6.3-15]; 6.35-38 [Eng. 6.50-53]; 24.3,6). All the high priestly genealogies in the biblical text connect the individual in question with
the line of Zadok. Thus, there seems to have been a strong belief that the
high priests of the temple had Zadok among their ancestors. Whether they
thought of themselves as 'Zadokite', though, is not known.
3. Ezek. 40.46; 43.19; 44.15; 48.11 considered all altar priests as 'sons
of Zadok'. However, it is the only source for several centuries to use that
term of the priests. If the priests were thought of as, or took their identity
from, 'sons of Zadok' our sources do not mention it. On the other hand,
'sons of Aaron' and other terms connecting the priests with Aaron are
found widely in the sources.
4. Apart from Ezekiel and a brief reference in Sir. 51.12 (Hebrew text
only), the only other writings that refer to the priests as 'sons of Zadok'
are found among the Qumran scrolls. Here the terms 'sons of Zadok',
'sons of Aaron' and 'priests' seem to be synonymous or interchangeable
terms, as seems also to be the case with Ben Sira.
The answer to our initial question thus has to be broken down into several aspects: Were the high priests in the Second Temple period thought of
as descendants of Zadok? Yes, they probably were, by almost everyone.
214
At the same time, there is no evidence that the high priestly line (at least,
until the Maccabees) was regarded as uniquely Zadokite. Rather, all altar
priests were regarded as 'sons of Zadok' by some Jews, if not by most. At
the time of the Maccabean revolt, there were those who regarded any high
priest outside the Oniad line as illegitimate, but there is no evidence that
this was because they were seen as 'non-Zadokite' but rather because they
were non-Oniad. It is clear that many Jews were willing to accept Menelaus, Alcimus and the Hasmoneans as high priests, suggesting that to them
it was not essential for the high priest to be of the Oniad family. The view
that the high priestly line was the exclusive Zadokite line, and in this way
differed from other priests, is nowhere attested in our sources. In that
sense, the high priests of the Second Temple did not bear the exclusive or
particular designation of'sons of Zadok' or 'Zadokite'.
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'LAWLESS RIOT AND INTESTINE DIVISION': JUDGES 19-21 ANDCIVIL
WAR IN ENGLAND ANDNORTH AMERICA, 1628-1786
David M. Gunn
They had no King: as well the fools as wise

Did all what did seem right in their own Eyes
(Robert Gomersall, 'The Levite's Revenge').
Writing for the benefit of youth in Great Britain, in the mid-1780s, Mrs
Trimmer (1741-1810; nee Sarah Kirby) drew from the stories in Judges
17-21 of Micah and the Levite's 'wife' (traditionally in English, 'concubine') a lesson about the benefits of sound and stable government. 'From
these two events', she advised, 'we may discover, that there was at that
time great confusion in the land of Israel; and that the excellent form of
government which had been ordained by Moses, at the command of God,
was corrupted and disregarded.' The stories showed
what a variety of ill effects were produced in Israel for want of a regular
settled government; as it is repeatedly said, that they happened when there
was no king in Israel, and every man did that which was right in his own
eyes.
She recounted how the Israelites had broken their covenant with God and
how God in turn had left them to fend for themselves without any governor at all, so as 'to feel the sad effects of their presumption and self-dependance'. A clear lesson was to be drawn:
How thankful should those be who live in a kingdom blessed with laws
calculated to defend the weak, protect the innocent, and punish injustice
and violence; who have a good king, and magistrates of various ranks to put
them in execution! Never should people in so happy a case indulge a wish
to be at liberty to do everything that may appear right in their own eyes;
lest, enticed by faction, impelled by mistaken zeal, or hurried on by tumultuous passions, they should be led to break the command of God, subvert
His holy religion, and infringe the peace of that society, of which they are
members, for they may assure themselves that they will by such wickedness
GUNN 'Lawless Riot and Intestine Division'
217
bring down God's judgments upon themselves.War with a foreign enemy

is a great evil, but lawless riot and intestine division are productive of the
greatest misfortunes that can happen to any country, of which may we never
be even spectators! (Trimmer 1786: II, Section XLVIII).
A century and a half earlier, around 1628, the young English cleric
Robert Gomersall (1602-c. 1646) had shared this aversion to the prospect
of civil war in his 'poetical meditations' upon Judges 19 and 20.
They had no King: as well the fools as wise
Did all what did seem right in their own Eyes.
And Sodom's crime seemed right to some: to see
When every man will his own monarch be,
When all subjection is ta'en quite away,
And the same man does govern and obey...
The account of the aftermath of the rape of the concubine (or wife of secondary rank) is edged with irony. Conjuring up the appropriately voiced
eloquence with which the messenger sent to Judah delivers his missive,
Gomersall narrates:
But he that unto princely Judah went,
Carrying the head of the dismembered corse,
With such a voice which sorrow had mad hoarse,
(Lest he should rave too highly) thus begins!
'Is there an heaven? and can there be such sins?
Stands the earth still? methinks I hardly stand,
Feeling the sea's inconstancy on land.
After this act, why flows the water more? ...'
Whereupon, after many further passionate words, the people of Judah

themselves fall into a passion:
He tells them all, what I before have wept;
Now Judah storms, and as a River kept
From its own course by wears and mills, if once
It force a passage, hurries o'er the stones,
Sweeps all along with it, and so alone
Without storms makes an inundation:
Such was the people's fury. They're so hot
That they will punish what we credit not,
And be as speedy as severe...
There follows, however, a counterpoint to the strains of war. There are

some elders, it would appear, who urge caution against a rush to judgment:
218

...but some
Who loathed the bloody accents of the drum Who thought no mischiefs of that foulness are,
But that they gain excuse, compared with war,
And war with brethrenthese, I say, of age
The chief amongst them, do oppose their rage,
Exhort them to a temper. 'Stay', says one,
'And be advised before you be undone.
Whence is this fury? why d'ye make such haste
To do that act which you'll repent as fast?'
The speaker continues by posing the crucial issue of proportionate response

by conjuring up the realities of warrape, destruction, neglect, insecurity
and death:
Are any glad to fight? or can ought be
Mother of war beside necessity?
Be not mistaken! Brethren, take good heed,
It is not physic frequently to bleed.
He that for petty griefs incision makes
Cannot be cured so often as he aches.
Are then your sisters, daughters, wives too chaste?
Or are you sorry that as yet no waste
Deforms your richer grounds? or does it stir
An anger in you, that the soldier
Mows not your fields? Poor men, do you lament
That still you are as safe as innocent?
We yet have cities proudly situate,
We yet have people: be it not in Fate
That your esteem of both should be so cheap
To wish those carcasses and these on heap.
The voice of restraint continues by confrontingand counteringits

critics:
Do I excuse them then to please the time,
And only make an 'error' of a crime?
Am I sin's advocate? Far be 't from me
To think so ill of war as sodomy!
For 'sodomy' I term it: Justice calls
That 'fact' which never into action falls
If it hath passed the license of the will:
And their intent reached to that height of ill
But whose intent? O pardon me, there be
Benjamites spotless of that Infamy.
Shall these be joined in punishment? a sin
219
You'd war against? O do not then begin

To act a greater, as if you would see
Whether injustice equaled luxury!
The poem ends with a recognition of its whimsy, that words rather than
swords might stop the cycle of revenge. With civil war in England but a few
short years away, these lines have, in hindsight, a kind of sad prescience:
But are not we true Benjamites in this,
And aggravate what e'er we do amiss
By a new act, as if the second deed
Excused the former, if it did exceed?
Did we not thus, an end were come to war;
Did we not thus, no more should private jar
Molest our peace. Kings might put up their swords,
And every quarrel might conclude in words:
One conference would root out all debate
And they might then most love, who now most hate,
The most sworn foes: for show me, where is he
Would seek revenge without an injury? (Gomersall 1633).
A decade or so later and Robert Gomersall's vision of restraining voices

among the Israelites is a vain echo from the past. England has enjoyed its
civil war as the Israelites had enjoyed theirs in Judges. In the aftermath of
the war, John Milton (1608-74) appeals to Judges 19-21 as Gomersall had
done prior to it, but in very different vein. In January, 1649, hard on the
execution of Charles I, a book appeared purporting to be the king's personal memoir (arguably 'ghosted' by his chaplain, John Gouden) during
his last days: Eikon basilike, the pourtraicture of His Sacred Mates tie in
his solitudes and sufferings. The immense success of this book in portraying Charles as a royal martyr prompted Parliament both to ban the book
and to commission a rebuttal by Milton, justifying the beheading. His painstaking response, Eikonoklastes, appeared within months, though it was
never able to match the popularity of its rival. Ten years later, on the eve
of the restoration of Charles II, Milton's own book was burned by the public hangman; Milton was imprisoned and narrowly escaped execution.
Charles charges that Parliament's undue severity exacerbated the rebellion in Ireland and for that reason deserved a curse such as Jacob called
down upon his sons Simeon and Levi (Gen. 49.7) for their slaughter of the
men of Shechem in retaliation for the rape of their sister Dinah (Gen. 34).
Milton responds that the king seems little concerned for those who had
lost fathers, brothers, wives and children through the cruelty of the rebels
220
and that retaliation is not, as the king supposes, 'unevangelicaP. He observes first that the king's defence of his own prerogatives ('the Toys and
Gewgaws of his Crown, for Copes and Surplices, the Trinkets of his
Priests') has caused the deaths of thousands in England. He then challenges
the king's use of the Shechem story. Parliament's action does not compare
to Simeon and Levi's destruction of a whole city for the sake of one sister,
whose ravishing was 'not don out of Villany, and recompence offer'd by
Marriage'. Nor, for that matter, is it comparable to the heavenly fire upon
Sodom summoned by the angels ('Disciples') who were denied lodging
there. At issue is whether it is right 'for a Nation by just Warr and execution to slay whole Families of them who so barbarously had slaine whole
Families before'.
Milton's trump card is Judges 19-21:
Did not all Israel doe as much against the Benjamits for one Rape committed by a few, and defended by the whole Tribe? and did they not the
same to Jabesh Gilead for not assisting them in that revenge?
To which he adds the caveat that he argues thus, not

that such measure should be meted rigorously to all the Irish, or as remembering that the Parlament ever so Decreed, but to shew that this his Homily
hath more of craft and affectation in it, then of sound Doctrin (Milton 1649:
Chapter XIIUpon the Rebellion in Ireland).
Milton is here drawing on established lines of argument by Puritan writers

regarding just war and holy war, going back at least to Henry [Johann
Heinrich] Bullinger's influential sermon 'Of War'. Bullinger (1504-75),
whose sermons were required reading for Elizabethan clergy, extends standard Augustinian just war theory to include the duty of the magistrate 'to
make war upon men which are incurable, whom the very judgment of the
Lord condemneth and biddeth to kill without pity or mercy'. Bullinger
cites the wars of Moses against the Midianites and Joshua against the
Amalekites:
Of that sort are the wars.. .with those also which, rejecting all justice and
equity, do stubbornly go to persist in their naughtiness. Such were the
Benjaminites... Such are at this day those arrogant and seditious rebels
which trouble commonweals and kingdoms... (Bullinger 1577).
Within two years oiEikonoklastes, and again writing in response to a

defence of Charles I and an attack on ParliamentSalmasius's Defensio
Regia pro Carolo I [A Defence of the Reign of Charles I], funded by
Charles II and published anonymously in November 1649Milton returns
221
to this theme and this text. Assailing Charles as wholly accountable for the
bloodshed and destruction of families during the civil war he defends both
the restraint of the 'magistrates and people' against the king's provocations and their eventual prosecution of the war, civil though it be.
What teachings of law or religion ever instructed men to consider their own
ease and the saving of money or blood or life more important than meeting
the enemy? Does it matter whether the enemy be foreign or domestic? Either
one threatens the state with the same bitter and ruinous destruction. All
Israel saw that without much shedding of blood she could not avenge the
outrage and murder of the Levite's wife; did they think that for this reason
they must hold their peace, avoid civil war however fierce, or allow the
death of a single poor woman to go unpunished? (Milton 1651: Chapter V).
That the death of 'a single poor woman' should not go unpunished is
hard to gainsay. Gomersall turned the crime of Gibeah broadly to' sodomy';
Milton focuses sharply on the murder of a wife. Yet place Milton's argument in Gomersall's poem, against the voices of those 'Who loathed the
bloody accents of the drum', and it sounds less compelling. At issue, of
course, in the argument, is proportion. At issue in the reading of the biblical text is tone. We might conjecture that Gomersall is reading a text that
satirizes prejudice and excess, Milton a text that maps civil behavior. Mrs
Trimmer, it would appear, reads like Milton in this respect, but with Mr
Gomersall's unease on the question of disproportion. That disquiet leads
her distinctly away from the sharp lines drawn by the Puritan to a very
Anglican 'middle way':
In the war between the Benjamites and the other tribes, great losses were
sustained on both sides; neither party had any reason to hope for the protection and assistance of GOD, and they were made instruments of punishment to each other (Trimmer 1786).
The war against Benjamin found itself much in vogue again during
another civil war that became the American War of Independence (177583). As with Milton, the text's users, for the most part, read it 'straight', at
face value, without allowing that its tone might be sardonic. The only
question, then, is that of identity: 'Who (today) are the Israelites and who
the Benjamites?'
In July 1775, on the fast-day appointed by the Continental Congress, a
day set aside for prayers for forgiveness and blessing (and 'His smiles on
American Councils and arms', as John Adams put it), at the Great Valley
Baptist Church in Pennsylvania, the minister, David Jones (1736-1820),
222
preached a sermon urging that war was a legitimate Christian course of

action in defense of freedom against tyranny:
We have no choice left to us, but to submit to absolute slavery and despotism, or as free-men to stand in our own defence, and endeavor a noble resistance. Matters are at last brought to this deplorable extremity; every
reasonable method of reconciliation has been tried in vain; our addresses
to our king have been treated with neglect or contempt.
All will not be easy.

To the Most High we can appeal, and submit the event to his pleasure. It is
more than probable that we may meet some defeats, and have much blood
shed; but even if this should be the case; let us not be discouraged; for so it
was with Israel in their first battles with Benjamin,but in the third battle the
whole tribe of Benjamin is cut off, save six hundred men (Jones 1775).
Three years later in April 1778, marking the third anniversary of the
start of the war, Jacob Gushing (c. 1729-1809), minister of the church at
Waltham, Massachusetts, delivered an impassioned sermon at the site of
the opening skirmish, near Lexington, Massachusetts. Again the theme is
the just war and again the war against the Benjaminites is appealed to as
scriptural warrant. He reflects on the concept of responsibility of the governed to resist tyranny:
If this war be just and necessary on our part, as past all doubt it is, then we
are engaged in the work of the Lord, which obliges us (under God mighty
in battle) to use our swords as instruments of righteousness, and calls us to
the shocking, but necessary, important duty of shedding human blood; not
only in defense of our property, life and religion, but in obedience to him
who hath said, 'Cursed be he that keepth back his sword from blood'
(Jeremiah 48.10) (Gushing 1778).
A few years later, 'a Moderate Whig'possibly Captain Stephen Case

(1746-94) of the Ulster County (New York) militiadedicated a treatise
to General Washington in which he appealed to the Bible among other
authorities to show 'the approven duty of defensive arms against oppressing rulers'. Not only did the children of Israel under Gideon rightfully
avenge themselves against the cruelty of the Midianites, but they were morally justified in waging war against the Benjaminites, since 'there is a command [Deut 13.12,15] to punish every city or party, making apostacy unto
idolatry'; and
if people are to bring to condign punishment idolatrous apostates, much
more ought they to resist all tyrants, seeking to destroy all religion and
223
liberty, for they are twins. Where the spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.
As I said before, destroy the one and the other cannot live (Case 1783).
But the Bible being the Bible, there is, of course, another side to the
story. From the other side of the conflict and the Atlantic ocean we hear, in
a remarkable tour de force on the biblical passage, from John Fletcher
(1729-85; born Jean Guillaume de la Flechere in Switzerland to a military
family), Vicar of Madeley in Shropshire, England, and a friend of John
Wesley, who gave him great praise. For Fletcher the issue is clear: the
colonists are in the wrong and God is not on their side (Fletcher 1776;
dated 6 December).
In his 1776 address, 'The Bible and the Sword', Fletcher begins by
affirming the value of the royal proclamation that
a public fast and humiliation be observed throughout England, upon Friday,
December 13, in order to obtain pardon of our sins; and may in the most
devout and solemn manner send up our prayers and supplications to the
Divine majesty, for averting those heavy judgments, which our manifold
sins and provocations have justly deserved; and for imploring his intervention and blessing speedily to deliver our loyal subjects.
The fasts in the colonies had become the subject of much mud-slinging.
As the Reverend Samuel Langdon (1723-97), who later became President
of Harvard, put it in a sermon preached to the Massachusetts Bay Colony
Congress on 31 May 1775:
If God be for us who can be against us? The enemy has reproached us for
calling on his name, and professing our trust in him. They have made a
mock of our solemn fasts, and every appearance of serious Christianity in
the land. On this account, by way of contempt, they call us saints; and that
they themselves may keep at the greatest distance from this character, their
mouths are full of horrid blasphemies, cursing, and bitterness, and vent all
the rage of malice and barbarity (Langdon 1775).
In this context of bitter accusations, Fletcher affirms, against the cynics,

that 'The sovereign acts herein the part of a Christian prince, and of a wise
politician' and urges his audience not to 'leave the field of national prayer
to our revolted colonies'. He offers in support 'a similar case, in which
God testified his approbation of a fast connected with a fight; yea, with a
bloody civil war'. He is appealing, of course, to the account of the Israelite's initial defeat by Benjamin in Judges 20, and to their fasting and offering of sacrifices prior to inquiring of God for the third time, after which
they were successful.
224
He recounts briefly the story of the rape and death of the woman, the
summoning of Israel against Gibeah, and Benjamin's denial of their 'just
request' to deliver up those responsible. He then draws his analogy.
Certain sons of Belial, belonging to the city of Boston, beset a ship in the
night, overpowered the crew, and feloniously destroyed her rich cargo. The
government was informed, that this felonious deed had been concerted by
some of the principal inhabitants of Boston, and executed by their emissaries;
and being justly incensed against the numerous rioters, it requested the
unjust city to make up the loss sustained by the owners of the plundered
ship, or to deliver up the sons of Belial who had so audaciously broken the
laws of the land; and a military force was sent to block up the port of Boston,
till the sovereign's just request should be granted. The other colonists, instead of using their interest with the obstinate inhabitants of Boston to make
them do this act of loyalty and justice, gathered themselves together unto
Boston to go out to battle against the sons of Great-Britain, and by taking up
arms against the king to protect felons, made themselves guilty both of felony
and high treason.
Returning now to the biblical account, he observes that God did not
forbid them 'to bring their obstinate brethren to reason by the force of
arms', but instead, when they went up to the house of God and asked
counsel, God replied with directions for the battle. To be sure there were
grievous losses at first, 'But alas! the righteousness of a cause, and the
divine approbation, do not always ensure success to those who fight in the
cause of virtue'. Then came the weeping and fasting before the Lord and
thereupon the Benjaminites were delivered into their hand.
And the few Benjamites that escaped the edge of the vindictive sword,
lamented the obstinacy, with which their infatuated tribe had taken up arms
for the sons of Belial, who had beset the house, in the inhospitable city of
Gibeah. And so will the revolted colonies one day bemoan the perverseness, with which their infatuated leaders have made them fight for the sons
of Belial, who beset the ship in the inhospitable harbour of Boston.
He proceeds to sum up the argument drawn from scripture:

To return; From the preceding scriptural account, it evidently appears:
(1) That God allows, yea commands the sword to be drawn for the punishment of daring felons, and of the infatuated people who bear arms in their
defence... (2) That, in this case, a sister-tribe may conscientiously draw the
sword against an obstinate sister-tribe; much more a parent-state against an
obstinate colony, and a king against rebellious subjects: (3) That Providence, to try the patience of those who are in the right, may permit that they
should suffer great losses: (4) That whilst the maintainers of order and
justice draw the sword to check daring licentiousness, it is their duty to go
225
up unto the house of God, and to weep and fast before the Lord: (5) That
God makes a difference between the enthusiastical abettors of felonious
practices, who fast to smite their brethren and rulers with the fist of wickedness; and the steady governors, who, together with their people, fast to smite
the wicked with the sceptre of righteousness... And lastly, that although no
war is so dreadful as a civil war, yet when God is consulted three times
following, all his answers shew, that the most bloody civil war is preferable
to the horrible consequences of daring anarchy; and that it is better to maintain order and execute justice with the loss of thousands of soldiers, than to
let the mobbing sons of Belial break into ships or houses, to commit with
impunity all the crimes which their lust, rapaciousness, and ferocity prompt
them to.
Lust, rapaciousness and ferocity forge exactly the link Fletcher wants
between the outrage at Gibeah and the outrage in the North American
colonies. And as usual in the genre, the political sermon, the outrage is
what the other side commits.
Mr Fletcher, however, does not leave it at this. Remarkably, having laid
the blame for instestine division upon the colonists, he retreats from the
sharp dichotomies of good and evil and the claim to God's side. The
sermon turns by degrees to an ostensibly more conciliatory tone, with an
appeal to fast not only for 'ourselves, and those who fight our battles', but
also out of regard 'to our American brethren', remembering the injunction
of the Lord to 'love your enemies, and pray for them that despitefully use
you', and bearing in mind also that many of them 'have been deceived by
the plausible and lying speeches of some of their leaders' or, seized by
'the epidemical fever of wild patriotism', are unaware of its dreadful
consequences, and 'already repent of their rashness, earnestly wishing for
an opportunity of returning with safety to their former allegiance'. It is as
though the naysayer of the Reverend Robert Gomersall's poem has
managed to whisper again,
But whose intent? O pardon me, there be / Benjamites spotless of that
Infamy. / Shall these be joined in punishment?
So from approbation of the near extermination of the Benjaminites we are

led to intercession, with 'hearts full of forgiving love, and Christian sympathy', for their American counterparts. A tour de force indeed!
John Fletcher's address of 1776 was fashioned in the thick of conflict.
The war and the loss of the colonies to Britain (the peace treaty was signed
in 1783) took place in the years just prior to Sarah Trimmer's publication
of her Sacred History. She makes no allusion to the struggle and the acrimonious rhetoric it generated (and by which it was generated!). That may
226
not be wondered at, given that subsequent editions of her work carried a
dedication, dated 1 January 1788, to the Queen (Charlotte), including the
wish: 'May YOUR MAJESTY long continue to bless this land, and soften the
cares of ROYALTY to the best of SOVEREIGNS!'). The sovereign was, of
course, George III. Yet it is hard not to read Trimmer's account of the war
against Benjamin without those recent events in mind. She exhorts her
readers to be thankful, 'who live in a kingdom blessed with laws calculated to defend the weak, protect the innocent, and punish injustice and
violence; who have a good king, and magistrates of various ranks to put
them in execution!' How curious that she should exclaim, 'may we never
be even spectators!' of so destructive a misfortune as 'intestine division'.
For she had been just such a spectator. It is as though the war that had begun
as 'intestine' had in its loss turned into a war against a 'foreign enemy'. It
is as though the American colonies, as Benjamin, had been wholly excised
from the British body politic. No survivors.
No need of wives, either. Sarah Trimmer was not interested in facilitating
contemporary reflection, for the comprehension of youth, on the stories of
the women of Jabesh Gilead and the daughters of Shiloh. They are passed
over in decent silence. As she says in her Preface:
Great care is required in selecting for [young persons] such parts of the
Sacred Writings as are suited to the progressive improvement of youth; and
it was my experience of the inconveniences attending an indiscriminate use
of the SCRIPTURES, when educating my own children, that first suggested to
me the design of [the Sacred History}.
The Bible does have its limits. And so did Mrs Trimmer.
It is a privilege to contribute to this volume in honor of David Clines,
longtime friend and, from 1970 to 1984, close colleague in the Department
of Biblical Studies at the University of Sheffield. His breadth of scholarship
is quite extraordinary and there lives no critic more meticulous and acute.
For me, his support, his enterprise and his openness to inquiry, wherever it
led, proved to be cornerstones of my early academic career. I shall be forever grateful. As it happens, among many interests we shared was a delight
in perusing antiquarian bookseller catalogues for books in our field. Among
those I came across during my days with David in Sheffield were six nicely
tooled leather volumes of Mrs Trimmer's Sacred History}
Completed 4 July 2002
1. This paper is much indebted to Edward McMahon for seeking out many of the
sources and to Diane Klein for making them accessible in a database on the reception
227
Bibliography
Bullinger, Heinrich
1577
Fiftie godlie and learned sermons, diuided into jive decades conteyning the
chiefe and principall pointes of Christian Religion (London).
Case, Stephen ['A Moderate Whig'][?]
1783
Defensive Arms Vindicated and the Lawfulness of the American War Made
Manifest. (Attribution uncertain; dated 17 June 1782 at New-Marlborough;
written, according to the text, in 1779.)
Gushing, Jacob
1778
Divine Judgments Upon Tyrants: And Compassion To The Oppressed: A
Sermon Preached at Lexington, April 20th, 1778. In commemoration of the
Murderous War and Rapine, inhumanely perpetrated, by two brigades of
British troops, in that town and neighbourhood, on the Nineteenth of April,
7 775 (Boston).
Fletcher, John
1776
The Bible and the Sword: or, The Appointment of the General Fast vindicated: In an Address to the Common People concerning the propriety of
repressing obstinate licentiousness with the sword, and of fasting when the
sword is drawn for that purpose (London).
Gomersall, Robert
1633
'The Levite's Revenge: Containing Poetical Meditations upon the 19. and
20. Chapters of Judges', Poems. (This poem written c. 1628)
Jones, David
1775
Defensive War in a just Cause Sinless: A Sermon Preached On the Day of
the Continental Fast (Philadelphia).
Langdon, Samuel
1775
A Government Corrupted by Vice, and Recovered by Righteousness (Maybe
found in John W. Thornton, The Pulpit of the American Revolution [Boston,
I860]: 233-58.)
Milton, John
1649
Eikonoklastes, in Answer To a Book Intitl 'd Eikon Basilike, the Portrature
of his Sacred Majesty in his Solitudes and Sufferings (London). (May be
found in Don M. Wolfe [Gen. Ed.], The Complete Prose Works of John
Milton, III [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1962].)
1651
Pro Populo Anglicano Defensio, Contra Claudii Anonymi, alias Salmasii
Defensionem Regiam (London). (Trans, as A Defence of the people of England, by John Milton: in Answer to Salmasius 's Defence of the King [Amsterdam?, 1692]. May be found in Wolfe [see above], Complete Prose Works of
John Milton, IV [1966].)
Salmasius [Claude de Saumaise]
1649
Defensio Regia pro Carolo I ad Serenissimum Magna Britannia Regem
history of the book of Judges for a volume being prepared for the Blackwell Bible
Commentary series. Some of the works cited may be found most easily in Ellis
Sandoz's collection of political sermons of the American founding era (Sandoz 1991).
228

Carolum II. Filium natu majorem, Heredum & Successorum legitimum [A
Defence of the Reign of Charles 7] (Leiden).
Sandoz, Ellis
1991
Political Sermons of the American Founding Era (Indianapolis, IN: Liberty

Press).
Trimmer, Mrs [Sarah]
1786
Sacred History, Adapted to the Comprehension of Young Persons (6 vols.;
London). (Several further editions, including the 6th, in 1810, under the
revised title: Sacred History, selected from the Scriptures; with Annotations
and Reflections, particularly calculated to facilitate the study of the Holy
Scriptures in Schools and Families [London]).
THE ROLE OF THE POOR IN PROVERBS

Walter J. Houston
Anyone familiar with the work of David Clines will be aware that in
recent years he has shown an increasing concern for the exercise of critical
judgment with regard to the ethics of the Hebrew Bible. I share this concern, but I come at the question from a different point of view, as a Christian theologian concerned to discover in an often morally problematic text
aspects which may work as a critique of our lives and attitudes in the
modern world.
My particular concern is that of social justice and more specifically the
issue of class, that is, of unequal relations between groups within society
that are related to the economic structure. The Hebrew Bible has always
been seen as having relevance to this issue because of its frequent words
against oppression and in favour of care for the poor. Yet there can hardly
be any doubt that the great majority of the Hebrew Bible is the work of
social elites and is likely, a hermeneutic of suspicion will maintain, to represent their interests. One approach (Mosala 1989: 101-53) regards such
words as isolated fragments voicing the interests of the oppressed. But as I
have argued elsewhere (Houston 1999: 343), it is better to regard them as
integral to the ideology of the texts, for it is in the interests of the rulers as
much as of the ruled to encourage 'a decent provision for the poor', which
the Tory Samuel Johnson saw as 'the true test of civilization'. Traditional
ideas of social solidarity and generosity, or religious ideas of God as the
guarantor of justice, inevitably form part of any ideology that lays claim
to universal truth and popular support, but taken in their full weight may
be read as challenging the dominant role of the classes that sponsor it
(Houston 1995: 298).
This thesis can be illustrated from the book of Proverbs. Here we must
have in view two questions, which are related but can be kept distinct. The
first is the social background of the writing of Proverbs. Who were the
wisdom writers? How did they fit into the society of the time? Whom did
230
they serve? Who were their patrons? When they collected proverbs, such
as those in Proverbs 10-29, did those proverbs originate in circles like
their own, or are they rather a popular oral literature, and if so in what sort
of social background did they originally circulate?
The second is: what attitudes towards wealth and poverty are displayed
in this literature? These attitudes are of course very likely to be a function
of the social background of the authors or of the people among whom the
proverbs circulated, so that one way of investigating the first question
might be by answering the second question first, and then arguing that
people who had such and such attitudes must have come from such and
such a group in society. Thus it might be argued that people who believe
that those who live on welfare benefits are all scroungers are likely to come
from comfortably off backgrounds themselves. But many of those who
hold that view about welfare recipients are themselves among the poorer
elements of society. Conversely, while such a view may be popular in the
clubs of London's West End, not everyone in the upper middle classes
holds it. It seems best, therefore, to tackle the questions separately.
The question of the social background of Proverbs has been dealt with
at some length by the late Norman Whybray (Whybray 1990), who deals
separately with the different sections of the book, marked out as they are
by differences in literary form. Like everyone else he is clear that the discourses and wisdom poems in Proverbs 1-9 reflect an upper-class urban
background (Whybray 1990: 100-101). The young man addressed has
leisure and money, which he may use wisely or unwisely. There is no reference at all to the poor in these chapters (102; actually there is an indirect
reference in Prov. 6.30, 'People do not despise a thief who steals to satisfy
his hunger'); so although one can safely say that they reflect the experience and values of a wealthy urban elite, one cannot get out of them any
reflection on class relationships, except perhaps by way of an argument
from silence: there is no instruction, as there is later in the book, to devote
part of one's wealth to the relief of poverty.
Whybray takes all the sentence literature (10.1-22.16 and 25-29)
together, and sees it as reflecting the experience and values of people of a
middle station in life: modest farming folknote the many references to
an agricultural settingwho are neither rich nor poor, and observe both
rich and poor dispassionately, but are constantly threatened by the danger
of poverty (Whybray 1990: 31-34).1 This would account, in his view, for
1. A very similar view is taken by Westermann (1995), at least of a hypothetical
older form of these proverbs.
HOUSTON The Role of the Poor in Proverbs
231
the large number of warnings of the sad fate awaiting the lazy (38). These
people are in a situation where they can maintain their modest standard of
living only by constant hard work; this is threatened by the lazybones who
fails to contribute to the community's hard-won store. The large number
of proverbs concerned with the king and the royal court do not show that
they originated in the court, for people of any class may be interested in
the king (54-58). Even the proverbs which commend charity to the poor
and condemn oppression are not necessarily addressed to the rich: even the
modestly well-off may be asked to help the poor (35).
But Whybray's and Westermann's views of these chapters have been
effectively criticized by Michael Fox (Fox 1996) and by Mark Sneed
(Sneed 1996). The agricultural setting is in no way dominant (Fox 1996:
233); and the court sayings 'speak not only about kings and courtiers, but
to and/or them' (235, quoting Prov. 16.10,14; 25.6-7). Fox sees the prominence of this theme, with the reference to editorial work by 'the men of
Hezekiah' in 25.1, as showing that 'the court was the decisive locus of creativity' (236). Even if some proverbs circulated among the population, it
must certainly have been among the governing cadre of the scribes, associated with the court (of the king or, later, the governor) or the temple, that
they were collected and shaped. Sneed defines the scribes simply as an
upper-class group (Sneed 1996:297-99), largely on the basis of Ben Sira,
who regards a private income as essential to the status of scribe (Ecclus.
38.24). Fox points out that the cadre would include 'clerks of high and low
degree' (Fox 1996: 236). But the likelihood is that the highest level of the
service were landowners drawing income from their estates, not mere
hangers on of the ruling class but themselves members of the economic
and social elite.
Sneed also shows that Whybray is wrong to go as he does mainly by the
content of the literature to identify its class background. Aristocratic literature as we know it from Egypt has a wide range of interests, including much
with a popular appeal; landowners are inevitably interested in agriculture;
and the fact that the proverbs appear to view both rich and poor in objective terms is no guide to the standing of the authors. He quotes the Egyptian wisdom writer Amenemope, who was clearly wealthy, but speaks of
rich and poor in a very similar style to Proverbs:
God loves him who cares for the poor,
More than him who respects the wealthy (26.13-14, as in Sneed 1996: 305).
Sneed concludes that there is nothing in Proverbs which requires the

authors of the sentences to be humble folk; it is perfectly possible that
232
some of the proverbs have a popular oral origin, but 'there is no need to
assume this for the bulk of Proverbs' (Sneed 1996: 305).
But if it is accepted that Proverbs as a whole has a broadly upper-class
orientation, how is this shown in its attitudes? J. David Pleins's chapter on
Proverbs in his massive study of social attitudes in the Hebrew Bible
(Pleins 2001: 452-S3)2 takes a clear line both on the social location of the
authors of Proverbs and on their attitude towards wealth and poverty. 'This
literature is a product of the ruling elite' (457), 'professional functionaries
in the monarchic establishment' (456), who formed the royal civil service
and composed literature such as Proverbs as educational textbooks for their
apprentices. By this means the young men who are repeatedly addressed in
the instruction literature would not only learn to read and write but would
also become instructed in the norms and ethics of the world of government
and diplomacy which they aspired to enter. 'It is to be expected, then', continues Pleins, 'that the values and practices advocated in the wisdom tradition are in accord with the political and economic leanings of the ruling
classes.'
What are these values and practices? He has already given a broad hint
in discussing the wisdom Psalms in the previous chapter. The authors of
Proverbs (but not of the Psalms) launch 'a veritable attack on the poor'
(437). This is strong language. It is slightly qualified in the chapter on
Proverbs, but not withdrawn; rather it is backed up by the assertion that in
seeking opponents to define their ethical views the one identifiable social
group the wise can use is the poor, since the 'wicked' or the 'fools' are not
definable in sociological terms (465: 'the poor as such are the only sociologically defined objects of the wisdom creed's ethical landscape'). The
role of the poor in Proverbs is to stand as a dreadful warning of the state to
which the audience may be reduced if they fail to heed instruction.
The basis for this assertion lies in the repeated statements, both in the
instruction and sentence literature, that laziness leads to poverty.3 'The
wise see poverty's origins in a lack of commitment to the labors at hand'
(469): the poor are responsible for their own poverty. Pleins constantly
celebrates prophecy as a foil to the 'wisdom creed', on the ground that
2. Largely anticipated in Pleins 1987.
3. Proverbs in the sentence literature denouncing laziness appear at Prov. 12.11,
14,24,27; 19.15,24; 20.4; 21.5,25; 22.13; 26.13, 14,15, 16; 28.19; longer poems on
the topic appear at 6.6-11 and 24.30-34, which close with the same couplet. The majority
of these warn that lack of diligence will lead to want, though some simply poke fun at
the lazy person.
233
prophecy in contrast finds the origins of poverty in the exploitative activity

of the ruling class (Pleins 2001: 470).
Pleins is not alone in this estimate of the role of the poor in Proverbs; he
depends on a strong tradition in scholarship. He quotes C. van Leeuwen:
poverty is 'a punishment that one brings upon oneself through one's own
fault' (Leeuwen 1955: 153, as in Pleins 2001:469). He also draws on the
work of Kuschke (1939), who argued that the term tin, the commonest
word for 'poor' in Proverbs, was used when referring to 'poverty as a selfinflicted evil, as something contemptible' (Kuschke 1939: 44), whereas
"HU and JVHN, which are not as common in this book, implied the rightful
claim of the poor to consideration;4 hence the use of tin served to justify
existing class divisions (Kuschke 1939: 47).
Is it true that the writers of Proverbs 'see poverty's origins' in laziness?
Could tin be translated 'bum' (in the American meaning of that word), as
Pleins half-jokingly suggests (Pleins 2001: 469)?
There is no question that Proverbs very frequently says that laziness
begets want (see above, n. 3). But it is not a logical conclusion from the
fact that laziness leads to poverty that poverty, wherever it exists, is caused
by laziness. Now there is nothing to prevent the writers from being guilty
of such illogicality; and there is much evidence that the connection back
from sickness to sin, consequence to cause, was frequently drawn: compare,
for example, the line taken by the friends of Job, or the psalms of lamentation which confess sin. But in the sentence literature and Proverbs generally this reverse connection is virtually absent. I have been able to find
only one sentence in the entire sentence literature of Proverbs, one verse in
600, that deduces conduct from its results, 16.31: 'Grey hair is a crown of
glory; it is gained in a righteous life'which is the converse of the frequent observation that righteousness leads to long life. Hence it is far from
demonstrable that the point of the sayings warning of laziness leading to
poverty is to hold up the actual poor as a horrid example of what laziness
leads to.
Indeed this is the more unlikely in that the writers know of a number of
other possible causes for poverty. 'Wealth hastily gained will grow small'
(13.11);' A lover of pleasure will suffer want; whoever loves wine and oil
will not grow rich' (21.17). The doctrine of retribution so beloved of the
wise maintains that the wicked will come to a bad end; a variety of bad
4. Regrettably, constraints of space make it impossible to discuss here the possible

distinctions between the various words translated 'poor'.
234
ends, one should say, one of which is to fall into poverty: 'The wicked
earn deceptive wages' (11.18); 'The righteous eat their fill, but the belly of
the wicked will be empty' (13.25).
But of course it will be pointed out that in citing these verses I have
indeed extended the range of the understanding of the origins of poverty in
Proverbs, but not altered the basic fact that poverty stands as a dreadful
warning: it is generally one's own fault, whether through laziness or
through extravagance or as the just retribution for wickednessin other
words, what we might understand as a typically upper-class view of the
poor. But there are several reasons why I find this interpretation problematic.
The first, to repeat, is the lack of any sentences reversing the deductive
process. There are various ways to get poor, but there are no condemnatory
statements about poor people and how they have brought their poverty
upon themselves. This is the decisive objection to the view of Kuschke,
Pleins, van Leeuwen and others that the wise despise the poor, 'attack' the
poor and so on. The necessary assertions in a literature that is not shy of
assertive statements are simply not there.
Secondly, the upper-class bias which undoubtedly is present in this literature shows itself in a different way. All the warnings about the dangers
which threaten the lazy, the wicked, the pleasure lovers and all the rest of
the damned crew who are held up to the reader's gaze apply to the well
off. They tell them how they might lose their wealth and join the ranks of
the poor. They say nothing about how the poor as a class originate. How
the well off might become poor is a constant theme of these writers. Why
the poor are not well off is not a question that ever occurs to them. A survey of the way in which the poor do appear as subjects of this literature
soon demonstrates, as we shall see, that poverty is understood as a given.
The poor just are poor; nothing is said about why they are poor. The true
limitation of the writers' vision appears in this incuriosity about the structure of society. They do not blame the poor for their own poverty because
they are not interested in what causes poverty.
One sentence in Proverbs may make an assertion very close to some in
the prophets:
(13.23) CDSIDD ta HSD3 Kh D'Cfcri T3 tatTD")
If D"1^"! can be understood as a spelling of D^tin (as it is taken by the

NRSV, REB and others) this would mean 'The land of the poor produces
much food, but it is often swept away by injustice (or unjustly)'. Clearly
235
this does not say that injustice makes a person poor, which in any case
does not mean destitution; but it does say that the poor may become destitute by injustice. This is also the implication of the injunctions against oppression of the poor which are also found in the book. But they do not
amount to a theory of the origin of class division: on the contrary, they
take that as a given.
But the most important reason why we cannot speak of an 'attack on the
poor' in Proverbs is that the tone of the sentences which speak of the poor
is either regretfully objective or positively sympathetic. There is none of
the saloon-bar ranting about scroungers and layabouts we might expect
from our own experience of upper-class culture (to repeat, the lazy in the
proverbs are not members of a class of poor people; they are well-off people who are in danger of becoming poor). The sentence I have just quoted
about injustice is a good example of that dry-eyed observation of social
facts which gives rise to numerous other sentences which express the fact
that the poor are at a serious disadvantage beside the rich.
'A poor man (tin) is hated even by his neighbours, but a rich man has
many friends' (14.20).5 'The appetite of a worker works for him: his
hunger drives him on' (16.26). 'A poor man (tin) uses entreaties, but a rich
man gives harsh answers' (18.23). 'A rich man rules over poor people
(CTEn), and the debtor is his creditor's slave' (22.7). 'A roaring lion or a
charging bear is a wicked ruler over a poor people (^TDU)' (28.15). Note
that the rich man who gives harsh answers and the creditor who enslaves
his debtor are not distinguished from kind rich men or indulgent creditors.
The sentences are true of the class as a whole.
It is true, as we have already seen, that the wise are not interested in the
origins of the social system, nor are they interested in changing it. But in
these sayings we begin to be aware that they have a very good idea of how
the system works. Wealth means power, and power is generally used arrogantly. Of that the wise are well aware, and despite the deadpan way in
which the facts are presented, a necessary effect of the literary style, they
clearly do not approve.
This is shown by their frequent injunctions to their readers to make sure
that they behave differently. 'One who closes his ears to the cry of the poor
(*?"[) will himself call out and not be answered' (21.13). 'The generous
5. I offer no apology for the non-inclusive language of these translations. They

represent the ethos of the original, which is concerned almost exclusively with men,
more accurately than the contortions of the NRSV.
236
(p JTTIC3) is blessed because he gives from his own food to the poor (*?!)'
(22.9). 'One who despises his neighbour is a sinner, but one who is kind to
the afflicted (or poor: ''DU) is blessed' (14.21). 'One who gives to the poor
(tin) has no lack, but one who turns a blind eye gets plenty of curses'
(28.27). If it were really true that the teaching about laziness implied contempt of the poor as a class, the presence of sayings like these in the same
collections would be inexplicable. Sayings in these collections (14.21;
17.5) warn the reader not to despise or mock the poor; to interpret other
sayings as if they implied contempt for the poor is perverse.
Most significant for my purpose are those sayings which lay a theological foundation for the injunction to be generous to the poor and not to
oppress them. Prov. 14.31 reads, 'One who oppresses a poor man (*?"T)
insults his Maker, but one who is kind to the destitute (JV3K) honours
him', and 17.5 is similar: 'One who mocks a poor man (tin) insults his
Maker, and one who gloats over misfortune will pay for it'. 'The poor man
and the exploiter have one thing in common (N&JB3 D^DSP tiTNl tin): it is
YHWH who gives light to the eyes of both' (29.13). These sayings from the
sentence literature root their abhorrence of oppression in the goodness of
the Creator. The poor have a dignity which derives from the fact that they
are creatures of God; but the oppressor is just as dependent on God for the
common goods of life as the poor person.
A slightly different approach is taken by two instructions in the little
collection at 22.17-24.34. At 22.22-23, we read, 'Do not rob a poor man
(*77) because he is poor, and do not oppress the afflicted ODU) in court, for
YHWH will defend their cause and despoil of life those who despoil them'.
A similar point is made by 23.10-11: 'Do not remove an ancient landmark
or encroach on the fields of fatherless children; for their Redeemer is
strong: he will defend their cause against you'. These sayings rest on faith
in the activity of God in human affairs and not solely in creation, but by
the same token they risk disconfirmation, in the same way as every confident assertion of retribution that this literature makes, when the expected
defence fails to materialize, as Job complains: 'The earth is given into the
hand of the wicked; he covers the eyes of its judges' (Job 9.24).
Pleins emphasizes the fact that the theological basis of the wisdom literature shows no knowledge of the covenant or the distinctive Israelite traditions on which prophecy is based, and sees this as a ground for prophetic
hostility to the wise. This I doubt. Rooting the call to generosity in creation
and our solidarity as human beings is a universalist approach which in no
way contradicts the more particularist understanding that relies on the cove-
237
nant. But as it happens, the warnings against oppression of the poor in the
Book of the Covenant in Exodus show a clear relationship to the traditions
in Proverbs: compare Exod. 22.22-23, 'You shall not abuse any widow or
orphan. If you do abuse them, when they cry out to me, I will surely heed
their cry', with Prov. 23.10-11 and particularly 21.13. It is very much oversimplifying things to make such sharp distinctions. There is a great deal of
cross-fertilization between traditions in ancient Israel, and the plausibility
of the teaching of the wise depends to a very large extent on their sharing
of a common fund of ethical understanding and theological insight with
the population as a whole. This is another point made by Sneed: 'The various classes shared most of the same values. Tried and true values had been
disseminated throughout ancient Israelite society' (Sneed 1996: 306).
Now, as Sneed emphasizes, this line of exhortation to generosity and
kindness to the poor is perfectly characteristic of aristocratic wisdom literature in all ancient cultures. It does not show that the writers were either
members of a lower classwe have already dealt with thator that they
had a distinctive solidarity with the poor or one which cut across their generally upper-class interests and concerns. As Sneed says, this would assume
'that aristocratic concern for the poor is somehow antagonistic to their
self-interest, and this is just not the case' (302).
Public expression of concern for the poor might have served as a catalyst
for peace within the total society. In other words, if the poor feel as though
the upper class cares and they see restraint placed on wanton oppression,
they may be less willing to revolt (303).
This is to put it at its lowest. More generously, Kovacs defines this ethic
as one of noblesse oblige: the wise 'are responsible and dutiful citizens
who act to uphold the proper social order' (Kovacs 1974: 178), and the
proper social order includes the duty of the leaders of society to care for
the poor as well as the duty of the poor to respect their leaders and patrons.
This means that the inculcation of values shared with the whole of society
is a necessary part of the education of those who will take leading positions in it.
It becomes clear, then, that the compilers of the collections in Proverbs
10-31 have typically upper-class attitudes, but share their fundamental
social values with the society as a whole. They accept that society is
divided into rich and poor: that appears to them to be a given; it has not
crossed their mind that it might be changed or that it is the result of human
decisions. But they are aware of the destructive effects that this division of
society into powerful and powerless may have. And so they attempt to
238
bring up the youth of the ruling classes to be aware of their responsibility

towards those who will be in their power, and to treat them in a way that
recognizes their common humanity. This would be part of their general
responsibility, urged throughout the book, to act moderately and restrain
their greed and other passions for the sake of peace in society.
It would appear that there is a serious contradiction in the wisdom
teachers' position. They know that rich people treat poor people badly, and
say so in more than one place. But their remedy for this is to appeal to
individuals to restrain their appetites and be generous. The difficulty is
apparent: their solution depends on the very people who are the problem,6
though maybe that is hidden from them because they are confident of the
effectiveness of their own teaching.
However, their approach could be defended were it true, as they claim,
that the wicked, which of course includes the oppressors, were restrained
by the workings of a cosmos built on the principle of retribution. Oppression could not then get very far, and the current order of society would be
reasonably benign. Unfortunately, as Job and Qoheleth both point out, this
confidence is an illusion. Job draws a terrifying picture of the sheer
brutality of life in the rural slums of Israel in Job 24:
They reap in a field not their own, and they glean in the vineyard of the
wicked. They lie all night naked without clothing, and have no covering in
the cold... Yet God pays no attention to their prayer... Yet God prolongs
the life of the mighty by his power.
The principle of retribution fails. But as David Clines has sharply suggested (Clines 1998: 258), Job should not really be asking for God to sort
out a problem which human beings have created and human beings ought
to be able to solve.
But if they are to solve it, simple appeals to generosity are not enough.
In any society the key to social relationships may be found in the fundamental religious or philosophical principles which are current. Most significant, therefore, for our purpose in Proverbs are those few texts that ground
the appeal to generosity on creation, rather than retribution, on what God
and not human beings have made. For if it is true that our common creatureliness binds us in solidarity with one another, this takes precedence
over any justification for the division of society in a way which gives a
few people absolute power over the rest and the choice of how to use it,
6.
This is true also of Deuteronomy's moral appeals: see Houston 1995: 311.
239
the division which the wisdom teachers dumbly accept but do not attempt
to justify. 'The poor man and the exploiter have one thing in common: it is
YHWH who gives light to the eyes of both' (29.13). There is then no justification for any other goods to be monopolised by the one and denied to
the other.
This paper is dedicated to David Clines in appreciation for his thoughtprovoking scholarship, and especially for his respect, support and friendship during my seven years as a rather marginal member of the Department of Biblical Studies at Sheffield.
Bibliography
Clines, David J.A.
1998
'Quarter Days Gone: Job 24 and the Absence of God', in Tod Linafelt and
Timothy K. Seal (eds.), God in the Fray: A Tribute to Walter Brueggemann
(Minneapolis: Fortress Press): 242-58.
Fox, Michael V.
1996
'The Social Location of the Book of Proverbs', in Michael V. Fox, V.A.
Hurowitz, A. Hurvitz, M.L. Klein, BJ. Schwartz andN. Shupak(eds.), Texts,
Temples and Traditions: A Tribute to Menahem Haran (Winona Lake, IN:
Eisenbrauns): 227-39.
Houston, Walter J.
1995
' "Open your Hand to your Needy Brother": Ideology and Moral Formation
inDeut. 15: !-18',inJohnRogerson, Margaret Davies and M.Daniel Carroll
R. (eds.), The Bible in Ethics (JSOTSup, 207; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic
Press): 296-314.
1999
'The King's Preferential Option for the Poor: Rhetoric, Ideology and Ethics
in Psalm 72', Biblnt 7: 341-67.
Kovacs, Brian W.
1974
'Is There a Class-Ethic in Proverbs?', in J.L. Crenshaw and J.T. Willis
(eds.), Essays in Old Testament Ethics (New York: Ktav).
Kuschke, A.
1939
'Arm und reich im Alten Testament mit besonderer Berucksichtigung der
nachexilischen Zeit', ZAW51: 31-57.
Leeuwen, Cornelis van
1955
Le developpement du sens social en Israel avant I'ere chretienne (Studia
Semitica Neerlandica, 1; Assen: van Gorcum).
Mosala, Itumeleng J.
1989
Biblical Hermeneutics and Black Theology in South Africa (Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans).
Pleins, J. David
1987
'Poverty in the Social World of the Wise', JSOT31: 61-78.
2001
The Social Visions of the Hebrew Bible: A Theological Introduction (Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press).
240
Sneed, Mark
1996
'The Class Culture of Proverbs: Eliminating Stereotypes', SJOT 10: 296308.

Westermann, Claus
1995
Roots of Wisdom: The Oldest Proverbs of Israel and Other Peoples
(Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark; ET of Wurzeln der Weisheit: Die dlteste Sprtiche
Israels undanderer Volker [G6rtingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1990]).
Whybray, R.N.
1990
Wealth and Poverty in the Book of Proverbs (JSOTSup, 99; Sheffield: JSOT
Press).
INSIGHTS ON JOB 3, FROM A MEDIEVAL COMMENTARY:
RABBI SAMUEL BEN MEIR (RASHBAM) ON THE BOOK OF JOB
Sara Japhet
R. Samuel ben Meir (Rashbam, c. 1085-1160+) was the greatest biblical

exegete in the school of 'Plain-Meaning Exegesis' (0235) of medieval northern France during the 'golden age' of Jewish biblical exegesis.1 Unfortunately, only part of his comprehensive work has come down to us; three of
the four works which survived in full (or almost so) have been published
in critical editions: on the Pentateuch by David Rosin (1881),2 on Qohelet
by Sara Japhet and Robert B. Salters (1985),3 and on Job by Sara Japhet
(2000).4
David Clines joined a long and impressive line of scholars who dedicated their efforts to decipher the secrets of the book of Job and penetrate
its enigmatic language and artful rhetoric, the splendor of which equals the
depth of its reflection. I thought it fitting to celebrate David's jubilee by
presenting him with a short passage of an, until now, unknown work of a
great fellow exegete, who struggled with the same book over 800 years
ago, not far from Britain. It should give concrete meaning to the continuity
and dialogue which constitute the very essence of exegesis; apudPs. 19.2:
'Exegete to exegete declares knowledge'.
The study of medieval exegesis may seem to a modern scholar an
1. For a concise description in English of his life and works, see Japhet and
Salters (1985: 11-18).
2. A non-critical edition is included in the common editions of the Rabbinic Bible
(Miqraoth Gedoloth), while the new edition of the Rabbinic Bible, Miqraoth Gedoloth
Haketer, is based on Rosin's edition. For an English translation of the commentaries on
Genesis, Exodus and Leviticus, see Lockshin 1989, 1997, 2001.
3. The commentary was first published by Jellinek 1855.
4. For a description in English of his commentary on Job, see Japhet 1997a. The
fourth work is the commentary on the Song of Songs, which was published and attributed to Rashbam by Jellinek in 1855.1 hope to publish it in a critical edition in the
near future.
242
unrewarding task. The short laconic notes, the rather obscure language,
and the absence of clearly denned questions that drew the commentator's
attention may create the impression of a rather simple response to the
text's demands. The great investment required for understanding this exegesis, with its historical and intellectual background and peculiar exegetical methods may be deemed unworthy, if not futile. However, such an attitude, which is not uncommon, may deprive biblical scholarship of some of
its greatest achievements, and certainly harm our view of the continuous
hermeneutical process.
I chose to present Rashbam's work by his commentary on one chapter
the first poetical piece in the book of Job. I hope that the English translation
of the commentary and the following comments will give the reader a taste
of Rashbam's work, of his method and contribution. Following the Hebrew
edition, the commentary is presented according to its internal structure, with
its own vocalization and punctuation, to which the necessary numerical
references have been added.5 The biblical lemmata and quotations follow
the NRSV when possible; in other cases they are represented by literal translations or the original Hebrew. I have tried to limit the use of Hebrew to
the absolutely necessary.
1. Translation
6
v. 1. His day: The day of his birth.

v. 3. ID I'TIN: In which I was born.7 "7'TIN is a future form of the niphal
conjugation but its meaning is past. The verses are not precise in this matter. A statement whose meaning is past may be written in a future form,
while a statement with future meaning may be written in a past form.
And the night that said: The night in which someone said about me.8
A man-child is conceived: May it perish too.
Is conceived (Tiffin): This is the strong conjugation of the root rnn. rnin
is like *pit0, *piB, DTin, D"]iD.
5. For the Hebrew text, see Japhet 2000: 35 1 -53; for the guidelines of the Hebrew
edition, Japhet 2000: 315-16.
6. A literal translation, followed e.g. by KJV but not by the NRSV or JPSV, where the
interpretation suggested by Rashbam (and others) is already incorporated into the translation. See Clines 1989: 78-79.
7. The point of the interpretation, that the verb 1 ^18 should be understood as past,
is already incorporated into the English translations (e.g. NRSV, JPSV, etc.).
8 . The interpretation suggested by Rashbam (and already by Rashi) is followed by
KJV. See below.
JAPHET Insights on Job 3
243
And the night that said: Here he curses in brief the day of his birth and
the night of his conception; he then goes on to curse at length each of them
by itself.
v. 4. That day: In which I was born, when it arrives every year, may it be
darkness, that it will never have happiness and joy.
May ... not seek it: A double expression. That no light may shine in it.
Or shine (USin ^1): Like IT SIP ^1.
L//rt(rnrn):rrnrn.
v. 5. Cloud:9 Nueah in French.10
The blackness of the day (DV <H'HD3): Demons shall terrify it, that it
may never have rest.1 '
v. 6. IIT *?K. 12 May it not be distinguished among them. A double expression of 'let it not come into the number of the months'.
in": From the root niin. The letters FTBD 13*3, when they appear at
the end of a word from the verbs of he, regularly get dagesh and are vocalized with a shewa, like 3(?n13 from rDlp, nsn14 from HPS, D'H^K PS1,15
fin, 16 TV I 1 7 from HI"). So also TV fromHin. However, heth cannot be
vocalized with a shewa because of the harshness of its pronunciation.
v. 8. To rouse up ("HID): It is the same as "117 in HD1I71 "117, 18 desenfented'm
French.19
9. The Hebrew is singular (followed e.g. by KJV). The unique feminine form is
understood by many as a collective, represented in the NRSV (and others) by the plural.
Clines translates the noun as singular (1989: 68), but interprets it as a collective (1989:
85).
10. The French words are written in the manuscript in Hebrew transliteration, with
vocalization. The reconstruction of the French and the English translations follows the
analysis of M. Banitt (in Japhet 2000: 277-81). The meaning of the French is 'a heavy
cloud' (Japhet 2000: 277, 287).
11. Notwithstanding his general reserve concerning demonology, Rashbam follows
here the traditional Jewish understanding of the word T~IB3 (see Japhet 2000: 14244). For the different interpretations of the unique Hebrew word see Clines 1989: 70.
12. The rendering of the NRSV 'Let it not rejoice' is unsuitable in this case. See also
below.
13. Num. 21.1; etc.
14. Job 31.27.
15. Gen. 9.27.
16. Gen. 27.38; etc.
17. Num. 24.19; etc.
18. Mai. 2.12.
19. Meaning: 'make him childless' (Banitt in Japhet 2000:277,289). So also Rashi.
244
v. 9. Let... be dark: The stars of its night, that they do not shine.20
Let it hope for light: The world will hope, that is wait,21 for light, that
dawn may break.
But have none: It will not shine any more.
Not see: The world. A double expression.
v. 10. The doors of my womb:22 So that I would not have come out of it, of
my mother's womb.
v. 11. Why...not: And if mischief caused that I was born, why did it happen that I did not die close to getting out of the womb? Why did I not
expire immediately after coming forth from the belly? He duplicates his
expression.
v. 12. Why were there knees to receive me: Since mischief did not cause
that I should die immediately after coming out of the womb, why did the
knees of my nurse receive me, to nurse me at her breasts?
w. 13-14. For now27* For if I would not have sucked, I would have now
been peaceful and quiet in the grave, restfully lying with kings and counsellors of the world.
v. 17. There the wicked: He goes back to his statement 'or with princes' [v.
15], 'there the wicked', etc.
v. 18. Prisoners...together: The rest of the world's prisoners are being
intimidated every day, but there they lie in peace,
v. 20. Why does he give:24 Now he begins to speak on another theme,
v. 22. When they find the grave: If they find death.
It is based on the interpretation of ~li? = 'son' and ""THi? (Gen. 15.2; etc.) = 'childless'.
See Rashi on Gen. 15.2, although for this text he proposes a different interpretation.
20. The interpretation refers to both the lemma ("DOT) and the word 1S50]
understood as 'night'. The NRSV (followed by Clines) renders 'dawn', while JPSVreads
'twilight'. This passage illustrates well the function of the lemma as reference rather
than the precise object of interpretation (see Japhet and Salters 1985: 55-59).
21. Literally: 'hope and wait'. Rashbam makes ample use of the interpretive waw,
often by joining the vocable of the text (here: 'hope') with its interpretation (here:
'wait'). See Japhet and Salters 1985: 46-48.
22. A literal translation, followed e.g. by Clines. The rendering of NRSV, JPSV and
many others already incorporates the interpretation suggested by Rashbam (and others).
23. So KJV, RSV, JPSV. The NRSV, rendering 'Now', ignores the word 'D; for Clines,
'Then'; see 1989: 72.
24. The Hebrew active verb is followed by the JPSV. The other translations (e.g.
KJV, NRSV), which render it in the passive ('is given') and then repeat it in v. 23, are
probably prompted by the absence of an explicit subject in v. 20. The deviations from
the MT are unnecessary if the implied subject in v. 20 is deduced from v. 23.
245
v. 23. To a man whose way:25 Job was saying that about himself. All these
found me because my way was made hidden by the Holy One and he
hedged me in so that I have been unable to come out of my trouble,
v. 24. Before26 my bread: Before the time of eating, when I should have
eaten and drunk and rejoiced, then my sighings come and my roars multiply like water covering the sea.
"Dm: Means 'pouring' liketfnpn "DTK HN npU1?,27 the Aramaic translation of which is {OIK1?. It is also like TO "[inn p3 JPHD,2811? pin29
[in Aramaic] rr1? "pPINT.
Are poured: Foundiert in French.30
vv. 25-26. And what I dread: A double expression.
lam not at ease: Because of the fear that I feared. Also, there came one
blow after another and I became miserable because of the loathsome sores
by which I was hit.
1. Comments
a. Parallelism
Parallelismus membrorum is perhaps the most characteristic and best
known feature of biblical poetry (Watson 1986: 114-59). And yet, very
little attention, if at all, was given to its discovery and use before R. Lowth.
Even scholars who did try to detect the application and role of parallelism
in early Jewish exegesis paid only passing attention to the contribution
made by Rashbam.31 With the publication of Rashbam's commentary on
Job, a new light was thrown on the major role which parallelism played in
his understanding and interpretation of biblical poetry.32
Rashbam defines parallelism by several terms, the common element of
all being 'doubling' (^SO), expressed in both verbal and nominal forms
(Japhet 2000: 176-77). These terms appear often in the commentary on
25. Literal translation. NRSV: 'to one who [cannot see] the way'.
26. NRSV margin; main text: like (similarly JPSV, Clines 1989: 75).
27. Exod. 38.27 (NRSV. 'casting the bases of the sanctuary').
28. Ezek. 22.22 (NRSV: 'as silver is melted in a smelter').
29. Exod. 37.3,13 (NRSV: 'he cast for it'). For the analysis of this section see Japhet
2000: 215-17.
30. Meaning: 'poured out' (Banitt in Japhet 2000: 277, 290).
31. In particular, Kugel 1981: 174, 176-77; Berlin 1991: 10.
32. See Japhet 2000: 170-200. Also, Japhet and Salters 1985: 51-52; Japhet 1997b:
123*-26*. For some remarks on Rashi's approach to this matter, see Gruber 1998:30-34.
246
Job,33 but they do not exhaust the much broader application of the principle. In fact, hundreds of verses in the book of Job are interpreted by
Rashbam along the principle of parallelism, with or without terminological
definitions.
Three different terms appear in the commentary on ch. 3 whose literal
translation would be: 'a double expression' (n'TIBD n^Q) in w. 4,25-26;
'the doubling of an expression' (H^Q ^5D) in vv. 6, 9; and 'he duplicates
his expression' (Ifl^Q ^213) in v. 11. In what follows I will first analyze
the exegetical method in several of these verses, where the terminology is
explicit, and then illustrate it from one more verse, where no definition is
offered.
(a) Verse 11:171^1 TIKiT ]C3DQ // ma DmD *? HO1? (literally: 'Why
did I not die from the womb//come forth from the belly and expire?').
Rashbam's explanation of parallelism in this verse is presented in two
parts: a full paraphrase of the verse, which illustrates the parallelism between colons A and B, and a declaration that the text (or Job) 'duplicates
his expression'.
Two components in colons A and B are clearly parallel: niQK DmD //
I?i;iNO)]B3a, whiles'? HO1? is found only in colon A and TWIT and! only
in colon B. According to Rashbam, the principle of 'duplication' implies
that the missing elements, omitted for rhetorical reasons, should be included in each of the colons when the meaning is concerned. This principle
is illustrated by the precise paraphrase of the verse: each of the missing
elements is introduced into its place in the parallel colon: 'Why did I not
die close to [coming forth] from the womb, [why did I not] expire immediately after coming forth from the belly?'
The two parts of the interpretation complement each other: the paraphrase
illustrates how 'duplication' works, and the general definition of the phenomenon directs the reader to follow the same practice in other instances,
where the allusion to the principle is not followed by demonstration of
application.
(b) Verse 6 is composed of three colons, of which B and C are seen by
Rashbam as parallel.34 The interpretation of the more difficult colon B is
then based on that of C. The chiastic parallelism between the two colons is
33. Over a hundred times in the commentary on Job. They appear over twenty
times in Rashbam's commentary on Qoheleth and about thirty times in his commentary
on the Pentateuch, mostly in the poetical sections, Gen. 49, Exod. 15 and Deut. 32 (for
references see Japhet 1975: 87, nn. 86-101).
34. For the abundance of tricola in this part of the chapter, see Clines 1989: 76.
247
indeed obvious. Literally: 'Let it not [...] among the days of the year//
among the number of the months let it not come'. In the framework of this
parallelism, the verb IPT in colon B seems to present a problem, as its
meaning is unsuitable in this context. The most common interpretation
(followed e.g. by NRSV) derives this verb from rnn, 'rejoice', with reference to the similar form in Exod. 18.9. However, the resulting parallelism
is rather poor, and as Clines rightly points out, 'it is hard to see why being
among the days of the year should be a particular matter for rejoicing by
the night' (1989: 70). Some commentators would resort to a slight emendation of the vocalization, reading "irr, deriving the verb from in11: 'may it
not bejo med/counted among the days of the year'.35 After a detailed analysis of the grammatical form of the word (see below), Rashbam comes to the
conclusion that the verb is indeed derived from rnn. However, he avoids
the meaning 'rejoice' and explains the same root as meaning 'be distinguished, specified'following the principle of homonymy, which he
regards as prevalent in biblical Hebrew.36 The result is a more homogenous interpretation for the entire verse. Rashbam says explicitly that his
choice of meaning was guided by the parallel structure of the verse, and in
fact he took this meaning into consideration already in his interpretation of
w. 3-4. 'The day' that Job was cursing is explained there as the 'date' of
his birth, the day 'when it arrives every year', rather than the actual 'day'
of his birth. This date, 'may it not be distinguished/specified among the
days of the year'. This interpretation illustrates well one of Rashbam's
characteristic features: his consistent acceptance of and adherence to the
principles of 'the way of Scripture'. His confidence in the validity of
parallelism as the leading principle of biblical poetry leads him to assume
a certain meaning for the verb rnn for which he has no further confirmation. He regards the force of parallelism as binding, to the degree that it
provides a point of departure for the other aspects of the interpretation,
including a semantic conjecture.
(c) The structure of v. 4, with its three colons, is similar to that of v. 6,
and Rashbam explains it along the same lines, seeing in colons B and C a
35. So already the Aramaic Targum, followed by KJV, JPSV and many others, includeing dictionaries (Baumgarmer 1967: I, 280b; 1974: II, 387b; Clines 1996: III,
161). Ibn Ezra mentions both interpretations but prefers 'rejoice', as does Rashi. For
the variety of modern proposals, see Clines 1989: 70.
36. See his commentary on Exod. 34.29, following Menahem Ben Saruq: 'Many
words in Scripture have two categories [of meaning]' (cf. Rosin 1880: 144 n. 5; 1881:
141; Lockshin 1997: 423)
248
'double expression'. Unlike v. 6, however, his comment is directed to the

meaning of the entire phrase rather than to the parallel words. The implicit
question, 'What is meant by the general statement of colon B "May God
above not seek it"?', is answered by Rashbam on the basis of the parallel
colon C, 'that no light may shine in it', thus providing a homogenous interpretation for the entire verse.37
(d) Also in v. 9 colons B and C are seen as parallel, resulting in the interpretation of the unspecified 'light' in colon B as 'the light of dawn', mentioned in colon C.38
(e) The interpretation of v. 3 provides a good example of the application
of the principle of parallelism without recourse to definitions or terminology. A superficial reading of the verse may view each of the parallel
colons as a complete sentence in itself. In this case the parallel elements
would be defined as: DlV/H^ ^Hl; (in) 1^1//1^ mil, leaving the verbs
as the third parallel element, "QNV/"1QN. However, while the first two pairs
are well grounded, the parallelism between "Q^"1 (may it perish) and "1QR
(said) is weak, and rightfully unacceptable. Another interpretation of the
verse is proposed by Rashbam, for whom the principle of parallelism
implies that (1) the syntax should be the same for the two parallel colons;
(2) the rhetorical form should exhibit a unity of contents and expression.
The application of these considerations immediately affects the way in
which the syntax of the two colons is understood. The syntax of colon A is
easily discernible: predicate CnN"1), subject (0V), to which an asyndetic
subordinate clause is attached (13 1 "TIN). Accordingly, the parallel element
'a man is conceived' ("133 mn) should be seen as part of the asyndetic
subordinate clause attached to the subject (n'r'm) in colon B, yielding
the structure: 'the day in [which] I was born//the night [in which] a man
was conceived'. To the same subordinate clause in colon B belongs also
the indefinite verb 'said' ("ION) a fact which leaves colon B without a
predicate, which should then be inferred from the predicate of colon A,
following the common procedure of defective parallelism. The result of all
these considerations is expressed in Rashbam's concise paraphrase of colon
B: 'and the night in which someone said about me: a man is conceived,
may it perish too'.39
37. For a similar interpretation see Clines 1989: 84.
38. Rashbam regards the two colons as elliptic also from another perspective, and
adds the implied subject 'the world' to each colon: 'the world may hope.. .the world
may not see'.
39. This interpretation, with no mention of parallelism, is attested already in Rashi's
249
By defining parallelism as 'duplication' Rashbam underlines the essence

and function of parallelism as rhetorical: the same idea is formulated twice,
in order to 'reinforce his statement'.40 The recognition of rhetoric as a legitimate category in the interpretation of Scripture, the analysis and definition
of literary forms and the general function of rhetoric as 'reinforcement' are
all characteristic of Rashbam's exegetical method.
b. The Literary Structure of Chapter 3
One of the features that distinguishes Rashbam from his contemporaries
and most Jewish exegetes is his sensitivity to the literary structure of the
biblical works. Although he does not refer to this matter in a systematic
way, his awareness is manifest in many aspects of the exegetical work
(Japhet 2000: 101-108, 161-70).41 Three comments on this subject are
found in Rashbam's interpretation of ch. 3: on vv. 3, 17 and 20.42
(a) A short comment in v. 3 refers to the structure of w. 3-10. The repeated shift from 'day' (w. 3a, 4) to 'night' (w. 3b, 6) creates an apparent
confusion, to which many exegetes have attended. Rashbam suggests a
structural principle which should account for this shift: v. 3 is a proposition, in which Job curses briefly both the day of his birth and the night of
his conception. Only then does Job go on to curse each of them at length,
the day in w. 4-5, the night in w. 6-9.43
(b) A short comment on v. 20 calls attention to the fact that 'Now he
[Job] begins to speak on another theme'. The interpretation of v. 23 then
uncovers the structure of the unit, encompassing w. 20-26: the first part
(vv. 20-22) is a general reflection in the third-person plural on the 'bitter in
soul'; in v. 23 there is a transition to the third-person singular (in which,
according to Rashbam, Job was speaking about himself); and then, finally,
vv. 24-26 are in the first person singular, with Job speaking directly about
himself, referring to his fears and the blows he suffered.
Although Rashbam does not provide a full literary analysis of ch. 3, his
view of the chapter is clear: it is composed of two parts, w. 3-19 and 20-26,
each built around one theme and both reflecting Job's reaction to his misery.
extant commentary, and is followed by KJV ('in which it was said'), JPSV and others. For
defense of the NRSV reading: 'and the night that said', see Clines 1989: 69, 82-83.
40. Rashbam's commentary on Job 13.2. See Japhet 2000: 172-73.
41. For a different perspective on these matters, see Harris 2000.
42. For a detailed analysis of the structure of ch. 3, see Clines 1989: 75-76 and the
literature cited there. Also Murphy 1981: 22-23.
43. For a different solution, omitting the first colon of v. 4 with the claim that it is a
'gloss', see Fohrer 1963: 109.
250
(c) One more comment, highly constricted, is found in the interpretation

of v. 17. Rashbam comments briefly that v. 17 is a continuation of v. 15:
'or with princes...there the wicked'. Indeed, v. 16 disturbs the smooth
flow of the text and the consistent development of its theme. Most modern
commentators would solve this interruption by transposing v. 16 to follow
either v. 11 or v. 12, on the assumption that this was its original place.44
Rashbam does not provide an explanation for the present structure, neither
here nor on similar occasions: did Job go astray with his thoughts, jumping
from one theme to another? Or was it the work of later hands? Whatever
the answer, Rashbam's sensitivity to the literary coherence of the text
certainly comes to the fore.
c. Grammar
Rashbam's profound interest in language and linguistics is well known
and has been pointed out by all those who have studied his work.45 It is
less known, however, that Rashbam was the first among the Jewish scholars of northern France and Germany to compose a grammar book.46 His
commentaries contain many grammatical notes, some quite extensive,
which reflect his interest in the subject and his peculiar grammatical views.
The commentary on ch. 3 includes several morphological, syntactic and
semantic comments,47 but the most interesting seems to be the lengthy
comment on the verb "IPT in v. 6. The form of the verb "TIT is rather peculiar, particularly the dagesh in the last consonant (1) which, although
following apatah, is dagesh lene rather than dagesh forte.** Rashbam provides a systematic analysis of this verb, making the following remarks:
(a) The root of "TIT is mn, which belongs to the tertiae he. (b) A special
sub-group among the tertiae he consists of verbs of which the second
consonant is one of the group JYSD "HD. (c) When a verb of this group is
declined in the jussive form (the short future form), of either qal or hiphil,
44. For the different proposals, see Clines 1989: 95. Clines begins his comment
with the question, 'Is this verse misplaced?', and tries to justify its present location.
45. See, inter alia, Rosin 1880: 128-55; Melammed 1978: 496-50; Japhet 2000:
209-76.
46. The work 'The Book of Dayyaqut' was edited by Ludwig Stein and published
posthumously in 1923, but did not attract much attention. For its recent critical edition,
see Merdler 1999.
47. The most elaborate are in vv. 3 (mil, IÎN), 6 (in1) and 24 (IDrr).
48. For analysis of the peculiar form see GKC 1 Oi-k, 26r, 28d-e n. 2 and 75r.
251
with waw consecutive or without it, it assumes a special form: the T:Q
n"O at the end of the word receives a dagesh (lene) and is vocalized with
a shewa. These rules are illustrated by five biblical examples from four
roots: aCTI, nSTl, PIST, "p'l and ITT. (d) mn belongs to the same group,
with he as the third letter and daleth as the second, yet it consists of a
group unto itself: the first consonant is the guttural heth. According to the
paradigm, this consonant too should be vocalized with a shewa, but since
heth cannot accept a shewa for phonetic reasons, the shewa is replaced by
& patah. The dagesh lene in the daleth is nevertheless retained.49
A similar analysis, although less elaborate, is found in Rashbam's commentary on Exod. 18.9.
Rashbam is highly selective in his exegesis and does not explain every
element in the text. Most of his comments are quite brief, to the point of
being enigmatic, making the reader wonder at times about the point of the
comment. The modern reader would have liked Rashbam to refer to more
issues in the biblical text and express his views more freely, but we should
be grateful for what we have. Following in Rashbam's footsteps, I did not
exhaust his comments on ch. 3, nor did I fully analyze his exegetical
methodology. I hope, however, that I did succeed in giving some taste of
his work and in arousing interest in his contribution. For the rest, the
words of Hillel the elder are forever appropriate: 'as for the rest, go and
learn'.
Bibliography
Baumgartner, W.
1967-96
Hebrdisches undaramdischesLexikonzumAlten Testament(5 vols.; Leiden:
E.J. Brill).
Berlin, A.
1991
Biblical Poetry through Medieval Jewish Eyes (Bloomington: Indiana University Press).
Clines, D.J.A.
1989
1993The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press).
49. The specificpatah is identified by Gesenius as a 'helping vowel' (GKC 28e:

93-94), which is similar in some ways to & furtive patah, but is not identical with it.
252
Cohen, M. (ed.)
1992Miqraoth Gedoloth Haketer (Ramat Gan: Bar Han University Publications).
Fohrer, G.
1963
Das Buch Hiob (KAT, 16; Gtitersloh: Gerd Mohn).
Gruber, M.I.
1998
Rashi 's Commentary on Psalms 1-89, -with English Translation, Introduction
and Notes (Books I-III) (South Florida Studies in the History of Judaism,
Harris, R.A.
2000
'Awareness of Biblical Redaction among Rabbinic Exegetes of Northern
France', in S. Japhet (ed.), Shnaton, An Annual for Biblical and Ancient
Near Eastern Studies 12: 289-310 (in Hebrew).
Japhet, S.
1975
'The Commentary of R. Samuel ben Meir to Qoheleth', Tarbiz 44: 72-94 (in
Hebrew).
1997a
The Commentary of Rabbi Samuel, ben Meir (Rashbam) on the Book of
Job', in G. Dahan, G. Nahon and E. Nicolas (eds.), Rashi et la culture juive
en France du Nord au Moyen Age (Collection de la Revue des Etudes
Juives, 16; Paris-Louvain: Peeters): 163-76.
1997b
'Tradition and Innovation in Rashbam's Commentary on the Book of Job:
Job 28', in M. Cogan, B.L. Eichler and J.H.M. Tigay (eds.), Tehilla leMoshe: Biblical and Judaic Studies in Honor ofMoshe Greenberg (Winona
Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns): 115*-42* [Hebrew section].
2000
The Commentary of Rabbi Samuel ben Meir (Rashbam) on the Book of Job
(Jerusalem: Magnes Press [in Hebrew]).
Japhet, S., and R.B. Salters
1985
The Commentary ofR. Samuel ben Meir (Rashbam) on Qoheleth (Jerusalem:
Magnes Press):
Jellinek, A.
1855 Commentar zu Kohelet und den Hohen Liede von R. Samuel ben Meir
(Leipzig: Leopold Schnauss).
Kugel, J.
1981
The Idea of Biblical Poetry: Parallelism and its History (New Haven: Yale
University Press).
Lockshin, M.L.
1989
Rabbi Samuel ben Meir's Commentary to Genesis: An Annotated Translation (Lewiston: Edwin Mellen Press).
1997
Rashbam's Commentary on Exodus: An Annotated Translation (BJS, 31;
2001
Rashbam's Commentary on Leviticus and Numbers: An Annotated Translation (BJS, 330; Providence, RI: Brown Judaic Studies).
Melammed, E.Z.
1978
Bible Commentators (2 vols.; Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2nd edn [in Hebrew]).
Merdler, R.
1999
Dayyakut by Rabbi Samuel ben Meir (Jerusalem: Publications of the Institute
of Jewish Studies, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem [in Hebrew]).

Murphy, R.E.
1981
253
Wisdom Literature: Job, Proverbs, Ruth, Canticles, Ecclesiastes and Esther

(FOTL, 13; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans).
Rosin, D.
1880
R. Samuel ben Meir als Schrifterkldrer (Breslau: Wilhelm Koebner Verlag).
1881
The Commentary on the Pentateuch by Rashbam (Breslau: Schattlander).
Watson, W.G.E.
1986
Classical Hebrew Poetry (JSOTSup, 26; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 2nd edn).
WHICH PARTS OF / ENOCH WERE KNOWN TO JUBILEES?

A NOTE ON THE INTERPRETATION OFJUBILEES 4.16-25*
Michael A. Knibb
Jubilees 4.16-25 provides a description of Enoch and his writings that

represents one of the earliest stages in the reception-history of the writings
attributed to him. (I leave out of account here the brief references to Enoch
in Sir. 44.16 and 49.14, and in Pseudo-Eupolemus, fragment 1; for the latter, see Holladay 1983.) The passage in Jubilees is of interest from a number of points of view, but in the present context particularly because w.
17-22 have long been seen to provide evidence as to which parts of the
composite book of Enoch were in existence by the time when Jubilees
itself was composed. Thus Charles, for example, maintained that 1 En. 616; 23-36; 72-90 were known to the author of Jubilees (1902: xliv, IxviiiIxxii, 36-37; cf. 1912: lii-liii), and in recent years, when the manuscripts
from Qumran have provided additional evidence relevant to the dating
both of parts of 7 Enoch and of Jubilees, the passage has attracted renewed
attention (see e.g. Grelot 1975; Milik 1976:11-12,24-25,45,48; VanderKam 1978, 1995; Nickelsburg 2001: 73-76). I quote vv. 17-22 in the
English translation of VanderKam:
He was the first of mankind who were born on the earth who learned (the
art of) writing, instruction and wisdom and who wrote down in a book the
signs of the sky in accord with the fixed pattern of their months so that
mankind would know the seasons of the years according to the fixed
patterns of each of their months. 4.18 He was the first to write a testimony.
He testified to mankind in the generations of the earth: The weeks of the
jubilees he related, and made known the days of the years; the months he
arranged, and related the sabbaths of the years, as we had told him. 4.19
While he slept he saw in a vision what has happened and what will occur
how things will happen for mankind during their history until the day of
judgment. He saw everything and understood. He wrote a testimony for
This brief study is offered to David Clines in friendship and in recognition of
his scholarly work.
KNIBB Which Parts of\ Enoch Were Known to Jubilees ? 255

himself and placed it upon the earth against all mankind and for all their
history.
4.20 During the twelfth jubilee, in its seventh week he took a wife for
himself. Her name was Edni, the daughter of Daniel, the daughter of his
father's brother. In the sixth year of this week she gave birth to a son for
him, and he named him Methuselah.
4.21 He was, moreover, with God's angels for six jubilees of years. They
showed him everything on earth and in the heavensthe dominion of the
sunand he wrote down everything. 4.22 He testified to the Watchers who
had sinned with the daughters of men because these had begun to mix with
earthly women so that they became defiled. Enoch testified against all of
them (Jub. 4.17-22; VanderKam 1989: II, 25-28).
Jubilees 4.16-25 occurs in the context of a 'rewriting' of Genesis 4 and

5 and, as is typical of Jubilees, is in part based on the biblical text (Gen.
5.18,21 -24), and in part incorporates additional material. It may be noted
that the palaeographical dating of the earlier hand of 4QJubilees3 (4Q216)
to c. 125-100 BCE (VanderKam and Milik 1994:2) provides firm evidence
that Jubilees dates from before that date. Beyond that, opinions have differed as to whether the book dates from the time of the Hellenistic reform,
close to 168 BCE (Nickelsburg 1984: 102-103), on the basis that it does
not refer to Antiochus IV or the religious measures he imposed; or from
between 161 and 140 BCE, and most probably from between 161 and 152
BCE (VanderKam 1977: 207-85; cf. Berger 1981: 300 [between 145 and
140 BCE]), on the basis that Jub. 37.1-38.14 and possibly 34.2-9 are a literary reflection of the wars of Judas (for the former, cf. 1 Mace. 5; for the
latter, cf. 1 Mace. 7.26-50). For present purposes the assumption of a date
for Jubilees of about 150 BCE is sufficient.
Jubilees 4.16-25 allude to a wider cycle of traditions concerning Enoch
than those contained within 1 Enoch and cannot entirely be correlated with
the book. It is not difficult to recognize allusions within it to the Astronomical Book (1 En. 72-82; w. 17-18), the Book of Dreams (1 En. 83-90;
v. 19)as in 1 En. 83.2; 85.3 the dreams occur before his marriage (v. 20),
and the Book of Watchers (1 En. 1-36; vv. 21 -22), and scholars have been
virtually unanimous in identifying references to these parts of the book of
Enoch in this passage. But if this seems clear, the passage nonetheless raises
a number of questions, particularly what precisely is to be understood by
the Enochic writings to which Jubilees refers, and whether the passage also
contains allusions to the Apocalypse of Weeks (1 En. 93.1 -10 + 91.11 -17)
and the Epistle (1 En. 91-105)as VanderKam and, for the Apocalypse of
Weeks, Nickelsburg have suggested.
256
Following the reference to the birth of Enoch in Jub. 4.16, which is

based on Gen. 5.18, Jub. 4.17-19 contain material that supplements the
text of Genesis (cf. VanderKam 1995: 112). The statement that Enoch
'wrote down in a book the signs of the sky in accord with the fixed pattern
of their months so that mankind would know the seasons of the years
according to the fixed patterns of each of their months' (v. 17; a comparable statement occurs in 4Qpseudo-Jubilees0 [4Q227] 2 4-6 [VanderKam
and Milik 1994: 173-75]) seems obviously to refer to the Astronomical
Book, but it is much less clear in what form the author of Jubilees knew
the Astronomical Book. The oldest manuscript of the Enochic Astronomical
Book in Aramaic (4QEnastra [4Q208]) dates to the end of the third or the
beginning of the second century BCE, and it is commonly assumed, therefore, that the Astronomical Book is the oldest of the Enochic writings and
dates back to the third century BCE, if not earlier. This fits in with the
attestation by Jubilees of the existence in the mid-second century of an
Enochic Astronomical Book, but the situation is not quite so straightforward
as it might appear.
The fragments of the Aramaic Astronomical Book from Qumran belong,
on the one hand, to a synchronistic table of the phases of the moon that has
no precise parallel in 1 En. 72-82, but is perhaps summarized in 73.4-8 and
74.3-9, and, on the other, to material corresponding to 1 En. 76-79 and 82.
But 4QEnastra (4Q208) contains only fragments of the synchronistic table,
and, as Tigchelaar and Garcia Martinez (2000: 95) have pointed out, 'it
cannot be ruled out that 4Q208 contained only the synchronistic calendar'.
So far as the Aramaic manuscripts are concerned, it is only 4QEnastrb
(4Q209), dating to the early first century CE, that contains fragments both
of the synchronistic table and of material corresponding to 1 En. 76-79
and 82, and it remains uncertain quite how old the Enochic Astronomical
Book in this complete form is. It may be assumed that Jubilees knew of
more than the synchronistic table, perhaps even the book in the kind of
form reflected in 4QEnastrb, but the exact contents of the book known to
Jubilees also remains uncertain. Further, while it is generally recognized
that the Ethiopic version of the Astronomical Book represents a radical
abridgment and recasting of the Aramaic text, scholars have tended to quote
the Ethiopic version as if it provided evidence of the Astronomical Book as
it existed in the third century BCE. The Ethiopic version of 1 En. 72-75 is
so different from what we know of the Aramaic synchronistic table that it
can only be used with a considerable degree of qualification as representing
the Astronomical Book in its original form. Thus, for example, it is not
clear that VanderKam is justified in his statement that 1 En. 74.2 'may
KNIBB Which Parts of\ Enoch Were Known to Jubilees ? 257

underlie the reference in Jub. [4.17] to fixed patterns of months' (1995:
113). We should note here, as a point to which we shall need to return, the
suggestion of VanderKam (1978: 233; cf. 1995:113) that notwithstanding
the relevance of 1 En. 82.2-3,92.1 may be the immediate source of inspiration for parts of Jub. 4.17aand hence perhaps provide evidence of knowledge of the Epistle of Enoch by the author of Jubilees.
Jub. 4.18 also refers to astronomical material and apparently also to the
Astronomical Book, but this has been questioned. Thus Milik (1976: 11)
argued that v. 18a refers to 1 En. 80-82, and that the text of v. 18b goes
beyond anything in the Astronomical Book and refers to various astronomical and calendrical texts known among the manuscripts of Qumran
Cave 4. VanderKam (1978: 234; cf. 1995: 114) has questioned whether
the second half of the verse provides an explication of the 'testimony'
mentioned in the first half, and has seen in the 'testimony' a reference to
the Epistle of Enoch, and particularly to the Apocalypse of Weeks. He
suggests that if the entire verse is an entity, it probably does refer to a
wider cycle of Enochic traditions than the Astronomical Book alone.
We shall need to return to the question of a possible reference here to
the Epistle of Enoch and the Apocalypse of Weeks. On the more general
point it is certainly the case that Jub. 4.18 goes beyond anything in the
Astronomical Book, but this perhaps should not surprise us. It needs to be
borne in mind that the passage in Jubilees was not intended as a precise
description of the contents of the book ofEnoch, but is a narrative description of the career and significance of Enoch that is based on the information given in Gen. 5.18,21 -24 and includes references to his writings only
in this larger context. It may well be that in Jub. 4.18 the author was not
alluding to any specific section of the book of Enoch, but was influenced
by wider traditions concerning Enoch's knowledge of astronomical and
calendrical matters, and we are reminded of the claim in Pseudo-Eupolemus, fragment 1, that Enoch was the one who discovered astrology. That
the emphasis in Jub. 4.18 should be on instruction concerning the calendar
is perhaps hardly surprising in view of the prominence attached to the calendar in Jubilees. Beyond this, Berger (1981: 343) has drawn attention to
the parallels between the heading of Jubilees and 1.4 on the one hand and
4.18 on the other, between 1.4 and 4.19, and between the emphasis on
testimony in 1.5-7, 8 and in 4.19, and suggests that Moses and Enoch are
presented in the same kind of role. Nickelsburg (2001:74,75) has pointed
out that 'testimony' is a generic term used in relation to Enoch and his
activity in Jubilees (see 4.18, 19, 22, 24; 7.39; 10.17). In view of this it
258
seems unlikely that the mention of the 'testimony' in Jub. 4.18a should be
seen as a specific allusion to the Epistle of Enoch.
The statement in Jub. 4.18a that Enoch 'was the first to write a testimony' does have a parallel in the Astronomical Book in the command to
Enoch in 81.6 to write down what he had seen and to 'testify' to his
children, but the relevance of this is not clear. Quite apart from the issue of
the generic use of the word 'testimony' in relation to Enoch, 1 En. 81
whether in isolation or as part of a larger sectionhas been regarded as
secondary within the Astronomical Book (Charles 1912:147-48,170,172;
Milik 1976:13-14; VanderKam 1995:19-22) or as misplaced from its original position within the Enochic corpus (Nickelsburg 2001:22-23,334-37),
and its date is uncertain.
Jub. 4.19 has generally been taken as a reference to the Enochic Book of
Dreams, but VanderKam (1978:234-35; 1995:115) has preferred again to
see here a reference to the Apocalypse of Weeks and to the material in the
opening sections of the Epistle of Enoch. His view is partly based on the
negative argument that the Book of Dreams contains two visions, not just
one, and that the second, the Animal Apocalypse, goes beyond the judgment, whereas in Jubilees the vision is said to have covered events 'until
the day of judgment'; and partly on the positive argument that the Apocalypse of Weeks fits what is said of Enoch's dream in Jubilees and contains
only a vague statement about events beyond the judgment day, that it came
to Enoch in a heavenly vision (93.2), and that the Epistle seems in his
view to be Enoch's testimony. However, we have already noted that 'testimony' is a generic word used in relation to Enoch and his activity, and in
view of this can hardly be taken as referring to the Epistle rather than to
the Book of Dreams. Further, Nickelsburg (2001:74 n. 10) has pointed out
that the Apocalypse of Weeks does, in 91.16-17, carry the story of Israel
beyond the day of judgment just as the Book of Dreams does. Above all,
the statement in Jub. 4.19 that Enoch saw what has happened and what
will happen in a vision while he slept (literally 'in a vision of his sleep')
better fits the repeated emphasis in the Book of Dreams that Enoch experienced the vision in his sleep (see 83.3,6,7; 85.2,3,9; 90.40,42). Whether
Jubilees knew of the first vision (1 En. 83-84) as well as of the Animal
Apocalypse (85-90) has to be left open. It may be noted that the Animal
Apocalypse is attested in fragments of four manuscripts from Qumran, of
which the oldest (4QEnf) dates from 150 to 125 BCE. None of the fragments contains material corresponding to 1 En. 83-84, but this maybe the
result of chance.
KNIBB Which Parts of I Enoch Were Known to Jubilees ?
259
The reference to Enoch's marriage to Edni and to the birth of Methuselah

(Jub. 4.20) represents an expansion of what is said in Gen. 5.21 concerning Methuselah's birth. Following this, the report in Jub. 4.21 a that Enoch
was with the angels for six jubilees of years (i.e. 294 years) is an interpretation of the statement in Gen. 5.22 that 'Enoch walked with DTI ^n after
the birth of Methuselah for three hundred years', according to which the
D' n ^8 are understood to be the angels (cf. VanderKam 1995:115-16). The
further report that the angels showed Enoch everything on earth and in the
heavens, including the dominion of the sun, and that he wrote everything
down (4.2 Ib), and that he testified to the Watchers who had sinned with
the daughters of men (4.22), refers clearly to the Book of Watchers, on the
one hand to the account of his journey through the cosmos (1 En. 17-36),
on the other to the story of Enoch's dealings with the Watchers (1 En.
[6] 12-16). (Again, a text comparable to that of Jub. 4.21b-22 occurs in
4Qpseudo-Jubileesc [4Q227] 2 1-4 [VanderKam and Milik 1994: 17375].) The one problematic element in this is the inclusion of'the dominion
of the sun' (Jub. 4.21) among the heavenly phenomena shown to Enoch by
the angels. It may be that this phrase is an addition made at the Greek or
the Ethiopic stage in the text of'Jubilees (Milik 1976:25), or it may be that
the phrase points to parts of the Astronomical Book (VanderKam 1995:
116). But it may be that the phrase is neither an addition nor a reference to
part of the book of Enoch, but rather reflects wider concerns of the author
of Jubilees in that he strongly defended observance of the solar calendar
and opposed observance of the lunar one (cf. 6.20-38, and on this, see
VanderKam 1995: 111). The palaeographical evidence relating to 4QEna,
the oldest manuscript of the Book of Watchers, has shown that this writing
dates back at least to the end of the third century BCE (cf. Milik 1976:14041), and this obviously fits in with the allusion to the Book of Watchers in
Jub. 4.21b-22.
Jub. 4.23-25, which refers to Enoch being 'taken' at the end of his life
on earth to the Garden of Eden, and to his continued existence there, represents an interpretation, and considerable expansion, of the statement in Gen.
5.24 'Enoch walked with DTl^Nn; then he was no more because DTI^K
took him' (cf. VanderKam 1995: 12-13, 116-17). But this lies outside our
present concerns. For the record, it should be noted that Enoch is also mentioned in Jubilees in 7.38-39; 10.17; 21.10, and that knowledge of the
story ofthe Watchers is reflected in4.15; 5.1-10; 7.20-39; 8.1-4; 10.1-17,
but these passages do not add anything to the conclusions that can be
drawn from 4.17-22.
260
From the above survey it is clear that the author of'Jubilees was familiar
with three Enochic writings: an Astronomical Book, the Animal Apocalypse
and the Book of Watchers. However, the precise contents of the Astronomical Book known to the author remain uncertain, and it is not clear
whether he knew of Enoch's first dream-vision (7 En. 83-84) as well as of
the Animal Apocalypse. Here it may be noted that Grelot (1975: 487-88,
492,498-500) argued that only three books are mentioned in Jub. 4.17-22
and found support for this in the statement in 4QBirth of Noaha (4Q534)
1 i 4-5, 'he will be considered... [.. .like a m]an who knows nothing, until
the moment in which [he will] know the three books' (cf. Puech 2001:
132-34, 137-38). But we cannot really know what the 'three books' of
4Q534 were. As we have noted, VanderKam has argued that Jub. 4.17-22
also presupposes knowledge of the Epistle of Enoch and/or of the Apocalypse of Weeks, which forms part of the Epistle, and in the final part of this
study I wish to examine his evidence for this. We should note, however,
that this view is explicitly rejected by Milik (1976: 48) and Grelot (1975:
487-88).
VanderKam suggests that the Epistle of Enoch is mentioned in Jub.
4.17(?), 18,19; 7.29; 10.17(?). Thus he has argued that the immediate inspiration for parts of Jub. 4.17a ('He was the first... who learned [the art of]
writing, instruction and wisdom') may be 1 En. 92.1, although he also mentions 82.2-3 as a possibility (VanderKam 1978: 232-33). Whether 1 En.
82.2-3, which does emphasize Enoch's association with wisdom, is particularly relevant to Jub. 4.17a may be left open. Very little has survived of
the Aramaic version of 1 En. 92.1, but it is clear that the passage did refer
to Enoch as 'the wisest of men'. The Ethiopic does not offer a precise translation of this verse, but it does include two of the terms used in Jub. 4.17a,
namely, 'instruction' and 'wisdom'. In either case, this seems very tenuous
evidence on which to argue that / En. 92.1 provided the immediate inspiration for the statement of Jub. 4.17a, not least in view of the widespread
association of Enoch with wisdom. In fact in his more recent study (1995:
113) VanderKam refers to / En. 82.2-3 and 92.1 only as the passages that
'most nearly resemble the formulation in Jubilees'.
We have already seen that it is unlikely that the mention of 'testimony'
in Jub. 4.18a represents a specific allusion to the Epistle of Enoch. But
both Nickelsburg (2001: 74) and VanderKam (1995: 114) draw attention
to the mention of seven-year units in this verse and suggest that there may
be reference here to the Apocalypse of Weeks, and VanderKam also considers the possibility of a reference to the Animal Apocalypse in which the
KNIBB Which Parts of I Enoch Were Known to Jubilees?
261
'seventy shepherds' (1 En. 89.59-90.25) represent an interpretation of the

70 weeks of years of Daniel 9. Jub. 4.18b does describe the information he
received from the angels and passed on to mankind as 'the weeks (Eth.
suba 'e) of the jubilees', 'the days of the years', 'the months' and 'the sabbaths (Eth. sanbaf) of the years', but the reference to seven-year units here
is clearly made in a calendrical context. In the Apocalypse of Weeks the
term 'week' (Eth. sanbat, 'sabbath, week', the word also used in the Ethiopic of Dan. 9) refers to a period of history, and equally the 'seventy shepherds' are introduced into the Animal Apocalypse to cover the events of a
period of history. It seems unlikely therefore that a reference to either of
these Enochic writings is intended in Jub. 4.18 (cf. Grelot 1975: 487).
We have already seen reason to doubt the view that Jub. 4.19 refers to
the Apocalypse of Weeks rather than to the Animal Apocalypse. But VanderKam has also suggested that the Epistle of Enoch is mentioned in two
passages in Jubilees outside 4.17-22, namely, 7.29 and 10.17 (1978: 23941). His suggestion in relation to the 'testimony' of 10.17 is quite tentative, and it is perhaps sufficient to note here the comment of Nickelsburg
(2001:75) that 'testimony' in this verse, as in 4.18, is not associated with a
particular writing. So far as Jub. 7.29 is concerned, there is a parallel with
1 En. 103.7-8 in that both mention descent into Sheol, darkness and
judgment. Charles (1902: Ixix) argued that 1 En. 103.7-8 was dependent
on Jub. 7.29, but VanderKam (1978: 239) believes that the reverse is the
case. Charles in fact argued that the views of 1 En. 103.7-8 represented a
development of those in Jub. 7.29, and there is more to be said for his
view than appears from VanderKam. Be that as it may, 'going down' into
Sheol is mentioned frequently in the Hebrew Bible (e.g. Gen. 37.35; Num.
16.30, 33; Ezek. 32.27), and it is not necessary to assume that either
passage is dependent on the other.
In conclusion it is difficult to find unambiguous references in Jubilees to
either the Apocalypse of Weeks or the Epistle of Enoch. It is in fact likely
that both the Apocalypse of Weeks and the Epistle as a whole were in existence by the time Jubilees was composed, but that can neither be proved
nor disproved from Jubilees.
Bibliography
Berger, K.
1981
Charles, R.H.
1902
Das Buch derJubilaen (JSHRZ, 2.3; Gutersloh: Gerd Mohn).

The Book of Jubilees or the Little Genesis (London: A. & C. Black).
262
1912
The Book of Enoch or 1 Enoch (Oxford: Clarendon Press).
Grelot, P.
1975
'Henoch et ses ecritures', RB 92: 481-500.
Holladay, C.R.
1983
Fragments from Hellenistic Jewish Authors. I. Historians (SBLTT, 20; Pseudepigrapha, 10; Chico, CA: Scholars Press).
Milik, J.T.
1976
The Books of Enoch: Aramaic Fragments ofQumrdn Cave 4 (Oxford: Clarendon Press).
Nickelsburg, G.W.E.
1984
'Jubilees', in M.E. Stone (ed.), Jewish Writings of the Second Temple Period
(CRINT, 2.2; Assen: Van Gorcum; Philadelphia: Fortress Press).
2001
/ Enoch 1: A Commentary on the Book ofl Enoch, Chapters 1-36; 81-108
(Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress Press).
Puech, E.
2001
'Naissance de Noe', Qumrdn Grotte 4. XXII. Textes arameens, premiere
partie (DID, 31; Oxford: Clarendon Press): 117-70.
Tigchelaar, E.J.C., and F. Garcia Martinez
2000
'4QAstronomical Enoch3'1", in S.J. Pfann et al. (eds.), Qumran Cave 4.
XXVI. Cryptic Texts; Miscellanea, Part 1 (DID, 36; Oxford: Clarendon
Press): 95-171.
VanderKam, J.C.
1977
Textual and Historical Studies in the Book of Jubilees (HSM, 14; Missoula,
MT: Scholars Press).
1978
'Enoch Traditions in Jubilees and Other Second-Century Sources', in P.J.
Achtemeier (ed.), Society of Biblical Literature 1978 Seminar Papers
(SBLSP, 13; Missoula, MT: Scholars Press): I, 229-51.
1989
The Book of Jubilees (2 vols.; CSCO, 510-11; Leuven: Peeters).
1995
Enoch, a Man for All Generations (Studies on Personalities of the Old Testament; Columbia: University of South Carolina).
VanderKam, J.C., and J.T. Milik
1994
'Jubilees', in H. Attridge et al. (eds.), Qumran Cave 4. VIII. Parabiblical
Texts (DJD, 13; Oxford: Clarendon Press): 1-185.
GOD'S RIGHTEOUSNESS IN THE ORIGINAL AND IN TRANSLATIONS

Joze Krasovec
My interest in the question of God's righteousness has led me to undertake
extensive and comparative studies of its semantic field in the Bible. In order
to establish the meaning of God's righteousness as expressed in the Hebrew
words derived from the root sdq I examined first of all their context and larger semantic field, including their synonyms and antonyms. I undertook
also a survey of the history of interpretation of these words in ancient translationsthe Septuagint, Targums and the Vulgateas well as ancient Jewish, Patristic and Renaissance commentaries. My study on righteousness
(1988) deals with the history of interpretation in general; here I would like
to focus on the interpretation of those passages containing sdq vocabulary
in Isaiah and the Psalms as attested by the major translations from antiquity until today. Such a survey reveals the dilemmas faced by translators
in interpreting the meaning of the concept in the source language and in
creating corresponding expressions and literary forms in the receptor language. The Septuagint and the Targums are especially important for understanding the history of Christian and Jewish interpretations respectively.
1. The Book of Isaiah
Vocabulary expressing God's righteousness occurs with especially great
frequency in Isaiah, exceeded in number only in the book of Psalms. The
passages expressing God's righteousness with derivatives from the root
sdq are: Isa. 1.27; 5.16; 10.22; 24.16; 28.17; 33.5; 41.2,10; 42.6,21; 45.8,
13,19,21,23,24,25; 46.12,13; 48.18; 50.8; 51.1,5,6,7, 8; 54.14; 56.1;
58.2, 8; 59.9,14, 16,17; 61.3, 10,11; 62.1, 2; 63.1. It is striking that the
majority of examples occur in Deutero-Isaiah (chs. 40-55) and Trito-Isaiah
(chs. 56-66). Because the context is similar in most cases, the basic meaning can usually be established in a straightforward enough way. Synonyms
and antonyms are of great help in determining the semantic range of sdq
vocabulary.
264
a. General Findings
An analysis of passages containing words denoting God's righteousness
has shown that the fundamental meaning of the Hebrew words always
remains essentially the same. It designates God's redemptive plan and fidelity to afaithful people, God's steadfast love, saving help and victory against
oppressors. God's righteousness is an expression of a loving God's attitude toward the covenant people, an attitude which is based on God's sovereignty and is independent of human norms, knowledge and merit. God's
righteousness means the very best fruits of God's self-revelation and
actions among God's people. In the final analysis, divine righteousness is
the distinctive mark of the Creator and the Redeemer, who is indisputably
the beginning and the end of the whole of history. In view of all this, the
semantic range of sdq vocabulary is extremely broad and yet indefinite. In
different contexts it expresses various aspects of the one and the same
divine truth that shows itself to be the only object worthy of human righteousness, which includes faith, hope and love towards God and our fellow
human beings.
God's righteousness is of a universal and positive nature. It cannot
therefore be valid for the covenant people and humankind unconditionally.
Only the righteous, that is, only the faithful people can participate in it. But
because righteous people are frequently victims of godless individuals or
groups, redemptive divine righteousness implies judgment upon these individuals or groups whenever God confronts them in saving the righteous.
Being a manifestation of God's generosity toward the righteous, God's
saving acts unavoidably imply a verdict on their oppressors. In this sense,
God's righteousness may manifest itself as an agent of retributive justice.
b. Synonyms and Antonyms
Synonyms and antonyms are of great help in ascertaining the basic meaning of the root sdq. In Deutero-Isaiah and Trito-Isaiah (Isa. 40-66), the
characteristic synonyms are words deriving from the rootys', 'to redeem'
(Isa. 45.8,21; 46.13; 51.5, 6, 8; 56.1; 59.16,17; 61.10; 62.1; 63.1). Apart
from the broader, explicitly redemptive context, this synonym confirms the
basic redemptive meaning of the root sdq. This also applies to the synonyms which appear less frequently: salom, 'peace, prosperity' (Isa. 48.18;
54.13), 'oz, 'strength' (Isa. 45.24) andkabod, 'honour, glory' (Isa. 62.2).
The synonym mesarim, 'uprightness' (Germ. Geradheit), strongly confirms
the impression that sedeq in Isa. 45.19 can be most appropriately translated with the word 'truth'.
KRASOVEC God's Righteousness
265
The other most frequent synonym mispat (Isa. 1.27; 5.16; 28.17; 33.5;
58.2; 59.9,14) is more problematical. In dictionaries, we find designations
such as 'decision, judgment, dispute, legal measure, law' (Germ. Schiedspruch, Rechtsentscheid, Recht, Rechtsanspruch). These words convey little, and some might even mislead the reader. The structure and the context
of the above-mentioned passages show that mispat expresses God's protection of righteous people. This word then has a fundamentally redemptive
meaning, valid only for the righteous. 'Righteous judgment' manifests
itself in relation to the covenant people, who remain faithful in spite of
difficulties and who therefore dare to express their hope or petition for a
judgment of a benevolent God's righteousness. Each of these examples
shows that the pair 'righteousness'//'justice' generally designates the exaltation of the God of Israel and his arbitration of salvation for the covenant
people above all other forces. God's supremacy and redemptive arbitration
result in an irreconcilable conflict with the godless forces that resist God's
sanctity and make the righteous suffer.
Turning to the antonyms, the root rs' appears in the hiphil (Isa. 50.9).
The sentences qarob masdiqi, 'he who vindicates me is near' (Isa. 50.8)
and mi-M 'yarst'em, 'who will declare me guilty?' (Isa. 50.9) express the
opposition between God, who takes the part of the faithful, and God's enemies, who aim to destroy the faithful. If God forgives and saves, any attempt at accusation on the part of the evil will end in failure (cf. Isa. 54.17).
The antithesis between the pairs sedaqd+yesu 'a and ndqam + qin 'a appears
in Isa. 59.17a//17b. The antithetical statement presents the judicial side of
God. Nevertheless, God is 'righteous' only towards God's own faithful people. Those who are not faithful, the wicked, experience God's 'anger' and
'revenge, vengeance'. Here again we can see that God's 'righteousness'
does not primarily have a judicial meaning, even though it frequently
appears in a judicial context. In such cases it is used to express only the
positive part of judicial activity: the deliverance of the faithful people.
c. Interpretation in Translations
The affinity of Aramaic with Hebrew leads us to begin with the Targum.
Unlike the Targum of the book of Psalms, the Targum of the book of
Isaiah does not render the words from the root sdq with the appropriate
Aramaic words of the same root. Instead it employs the rootzkh in various
forms: zekut/z(a)ekuta7zaku in the singular (Isa. 1.27; 5.16; 10.22; 28.17;
33.5; 45.8c, 23; 46.12, 13; 48.18; 50.8; 51.5, 6, 8; 54.14,17; 56.1b; 58.8;
59.14; 61.11; 62.2; 63.1) andzakwan in the plural (Isa. 45.24; 59.9, 17).
266
Derivatives from the root zkh are: the noun zakkd'utd' (Isa. 42.21), the
adjective zakkay (Isa. 45.21), and the verbal form yizkon (Isa. 45.25).
Apart from these terms, some other words appear: qesdt/qustd' (Isa. 41.10;
42.6; 45.13,19; 51.1,7; 58.2; 61.3), tubd'(lsa.45M),memdr(Isa. 59.16)
and nehord'(lsa. 62.1). In Isa. 24.16 and 41.2, the Targumist relates the
concept of righteousness to a human subject, whether in the plural saddiqayyd' or in the singular sidqd'.
The Septuagint and the Vulgate characteristically employ the typically
Greek and Latin words for righteousness/justice: dikaiosyne, dikaios and
dikaioun; iustitia, iustus, and iustificare(i). Occasionally, however, they use
other terms. In the Septuagint we find: eleemosyne (Isa. 1.27; 28.17; 59.16),
eleos (Isa. 56.1 b), krisis (Isa. 51.7), euphrosyne (Isa. 61.10) and the adjective eusebes (Isa. 24.16). The Vulgate departs from the root ius- only once
by using the verb sanctificare (Isa. 42.21).
The Renaissance translators display the same consistency in translation
as the ancient versions. Luther's Bible (1545) determined for the following
centuries that the words gerecht and Gerechtigkeit be used for righteousness. This is especially true for the book of Isaiah. The only exception is to
be found in Isa. 50.8: 'Er is nahe, der mich recht spricht'. In the English
tradition of translating the Bible, such uniformity is less common because
the English language offers two possible words for the original: righteousness andjustice. The Authorized King James Version, published in 1611
under the auspices of James I of England, renders the noun sedeq/seddqd
almost consistently by righteousness. In Isa. 58.2; 59.9,14, however, we
find the word justice. In Isa. 58.2, the Lord laments the sinfulness of the
people, saying: '...they ask of me the ordinances of justice(mispetesedeq)\ In Isa. 59.9, 14, the people lament the consequences of their
apostasy: 'Therefore is judgment (mispat) far from us, neither doth justice
(seddqd) overtake us...' (v. 9); 'And judgment (mispat) is turned away
backward, andjustice (seddqd) standeth afar off: for truth is fallen in the
street, and equity cannot enter' (v. 14). For the Hebrew saddiq one may
expect consistent rendering by the word righteous, but the few cases of
this adjective relating to God in Isaiah (24.16; 45.21) are expressed by two
words. In Isa. 24.16, the writer mentions the songs of 'glory to the righteous', but in Isa. 45.21 the Lord declares: 'no God else beside me; a just
God and a Saviour ('el-saddiq umosia')...' The two passages containing
the verb form (Isa. 45.25; 50.8) are rendered by the appropriate forms of
the verb 'to justify': God justifies Israel (Isa. 45.25) and the prophet (Isa.
50.8).
267
In my discussion of recent translations, I will concentrate particularly on

Die Schrift: Verdeutscht von Martin Buber gemeinsam mil Franz Rosenzweig, the Revised Standard Version (1946,1952), the New Revised Standard Version (1995) and the Contemporary English Version (1995). Buber
and Rosenzweig are completely consistent in rendering the Hebrew root
sdq by various forms of the same German root, wahr: Bewahrheitung (Isa.
45.24; 48.18; 58.2; 61.10; 62.1), bewahrheitet (Isa. 45.25), derBewahrte
(Isa. 24.16), Bewdhrtes (Isa. 45.23), Bewdhrung (Isa. 1.27; 10.22; 28.17;
42.6; 45.8; 46.12,13; 51.6,8; 54.14,17; 56.1; 59.14; 61.11), bewdhrspricht
(Isa. 50.8), Bewdhrtsprechung(Isa. 59.9), Siegbewdhrung(Isa. 63.1), \vahrhaftig (Isa. 45.21), Wahrhaftiges (Isa. 56.1), Wahrhaftigkeit (Isa. 41.2,10;
42.21; 45.8, 13, 19; 51.1, 7; 58.8; 59.16, 17; 62.2), Wahrheit (Isa. 33.5;
51.5; 61.3), Wahrspruch (Isa. 5.16). In the 'Memoriam Franz Rosenzweig'
(1930), Martin Buber explained quite clearly the reasons for choosing
these words.
The RSV and the NRSV are exceptionally good examples of how to preserve tradition and modernize the translation in line with the latest results
of scholarship. Both versions observe the metrical rules and employ the
literary devices of the original but use a slightly more varied vocabulary
than the KJV/AV. In these versions of the book of Isaiah, we find the following words for the concept of sdq: deliverance (Isa. 46.12,13; 51.1 [RSV],
5, 6, 8; 56.1), righteous (Isa. 24.16; 45.21; 58.2), righteousness (Isa. 1.27;
5.16; 10.22; 28.17; 33.5; 42.6, 21; 45.8, 13, 23, 24; 48.18 [RSV]; 51.1
[NRSV]; 51.7; 54.14; 58.8 [RSV]; 59.9,14,16,17; 61.3,10, \\), success (Isa.
48.18 [NRSV]), truth (Isa. 45.19), victor (Cyrus) (Isa. 41.2), victorious (right
hand) (Isa. 41.10), to vindicate (Isa. 50.7), vindicator/vindication (Isa. 58.8
[NRSV]; 62.1, 2; 63.1).
The RSV and the NRSV show a strong tendency to variation within the
semantic field of God's 'righteousness', which expresses God's sovereign
being and the divine activity in relation to the covenant people and humankind in general. This tendency does not, however, affect the original literary structure and the poetic device of parallelism within it, which is the
basic form of biblical poetry and important also in the narratives and law.
The same is true for other generally accepted versions: the Zurcher Bibel,
Einheitsiibersetzung, La Bible de Jerusalem, Traduction oecumenique de la
Bible (TOB), La Bible by J. Trinquet, the New International Version, etc. It
is surprising that a number of recent translations based on the principle of
content equivalence neglect both the basic forms of Semitic poetry and
rhetoric and the homogeneity of vocabulary: the Good News Bible (1976),
268
Die Bibel in heutigem Deutsch (1982), La Bibbia in lingua corrente, the

Contemporary English Version (1995), etc. As far as the vocabulary of
divine righteousness is concerned, the range found is extremely varied.
Generally speaking, an agreement with contemporary exegesis is noticeable
in the choice of words, yet there are also cases of obvious misunderstanding or confusion. To illustrate the point, I shall use some examples from
the NRSV and from the CEV, both published in the same year (1995). In Isa.
5.16 in the NRSV we find: 'But the Lord of hosts is exalted by justice, and
the Holy God shows himself holy by righteousness'. In the CEV we find:
'But the holy Lord God All-Powerful is praised because he has shown
who he is by bringing justice'. In Isa. 45.8 in the NRSV there is: 'Shower,
O heavens, from above, and let the skies rain down righteousness; let the
earth open, that salvation may spring up, and let it cause righteousness to
sprout up also; I the Lord have created it'. In the CEV there is: 'Tell the
heavens to send down justice like showers of rain. Prepare the earth for
my saving power to sprout and produce justice that I, the Lord, create'.
2. The Book of Psalms
The book of Psalms is the richest book in terms of the number of places
containing words derived from the root sdq denoting God's nature and
activity: Pss. 4.2; 5.9; 7.10, 12, 18; 9.5, 9; 11.7; 19.10; 22.32; 23.3; 24.5;
31.2; 33.5; 35.24,27,28; 36.7,11; 40.10,11; 48.11; 50.6; 51.6,16; 65.6;
69.28; 71.2, 15, 16,19,24; 72.1,2, 3, 7; 85.11, 12, 14; 88.13; 89.15, 17;
94.15; 96.13; 97.2,6; 98.2,9; 99.4; 103.6,17; 111.3; 116.5; 119.7,40,62,
75, 106, 123, 137, 138, 142, 144,160, 164, 172; 129.4; 143.1, 11; 145.7,
17. The Psalms provide ideal material for research according to the principle of context, for each psalm is a self-contained unit of its own. By taking
into account the internal relationship between the parts within the whole of
any particular psalm, it is possible to establish the meaning of the concept
with considerable accuracy.
a. General Findings
In the majority of cases in the book of Psalms the context and the synonyms clearly show that the notion of God's righteousness has a redemptive meaning. God's righteousness is the most perfect expression of all his
divine qualities, chiefly signifying his steadfastness in delivering the faithful people. In every case, God's righteousness is a pure divine gift. People
may plead for a manifestation of God's righteousness but they cannot
depend on their own virtue to achieve it, although their own fidelity could
269
play a decisive role. So, for example, the faithful psalmist is allowed by
God to enter the divine temple and to acquire knowledge concerning
divine faithfulness, while the unjust cannot stand before God (Ps. 5). Only
a faithful psalmist can ask God to guide him 'for his name's sake' (Ps.
23.3). In most cases, divine righteousness is connected in a general and
broad way with prosperity and good fortune, further emphasizing the universal authenticity of divine activity. The deepest essence of God's righteousness shows itself in its expression of divine mercy towards transitory
mortal and sinful people (cf. Pss. 51 and 103).
Occasionally the immediate judicial context or, for example, the declaration that God is a 'righteous judge' might suggest another interpretation.
But a look at the broader context always shows that God's righteousness
has a redemptive quality even in these places. 'Judgment' means divine
guidance of the world. For the faithful this means divine fidelity and deliverance. The deliverance of the righteous consequently often implies restraining the oppressors who are threatening the righteous (cf. Pss. 7 and 9).
Divine 'judgment' can also occasionally contain a warning to the people to
remain true to divine ways if they are to partake of the redemption of
divine righteousness (cf. Ps. 50).
b. Synonyms and Antonyms
There is a particularly large number of synonyms in the book of Psalms
for each word derived from the root sdq. The nouns are: yesa' (Pss. 65.6;
85.8, 10),yesu'a (Pss. 89.27; 98.2, 3; 119.123), tesu'a (Pss. 40.11; 51.16;
71.15), >emet(Ps&. 19.10; 40.11; 71.22; 85.11, 12; 89.15; 119.142, 160),
'emund (Pss. 33.4; 36.6; 40.11; 88.12; 89.2,3,6,9,25,34,50; 96.13; 98.3;
119.75, 138; 143.1), beraka (Ps. 24.5), hesed (Pss. 5.8; 33.5; 36.6, 8, 11;
40.11; 85.8, 11; 88.12; 89.2, 3, 15, 25, 34, 50; 98.3; 103.4, 8, 11, 17;
143.12), kabod(Pss. 85.10; 97.6), mesarim (Pss. 9.9; 96.10; 98.9; 99.4),
mispat (Pss. 33.5; 36.7; 48.11; 72.1, 2; 89.15; 94.15; 97.2; 99.4; 103.6),
salom (Pss. 35.27; 72.3,7; 85.11); the adjectives: hannun (Ps. 116.5), hasid
(Ps. 145.17), merahem (Ps. 116.6); the verbs: the hiphil form lehosia' (Ps.
36.7; 98.1; 116.6), zakd (Ps. 51.6). In almost all cases the context and nature
of these synonyms underline the redemptive meaning of divine righteousness, thereby reinforcing the idea that mispat does not primarily have a
judicial-retributive meaning but denotes instead the universal divine guidance of and providence in the world.
Once the fundamental meaning of the concept of God's righteousness
has been established, it is easy to find the antonyms. If this concept signi-
270
fied God's judgment and punishment, the antonym could only be divine
mercy. But since, in the final analysis, God's righteousness signifies divine
compassion and solidarity, the exact opposite is the case; the antonym is
God's anger. In the Hebrew Bible, the antonym 'anger' is a permanent
possibility, a permanent threat in the event of a people not being faithful.
But in the Psalms words expressing divine anger do not occur in antithetical parallelism with words containing the root sdq; this is because
in the majority of cases it is not God himself or his prophet who speaks (an
exception is, for example, Ps. 50), but the oppressed 'righteous' petitioner^). Petitioners hope and plead for divine righteousness, that is, for
prosperity, faithfulness and mercy. In Ps. 89, the antithetic pair fidelity//
infidelity becomes apparent from the broader context, that is, the contrast
between the sections vv. 6-19 + 20-38//W. 39-46; here the antonym appears as the basis for the plea to God to remember God's own previous
faithfulness and vows and to show fidelity in the current moment of extreme
distress.
In the book of Psalms, the irreconcilable opposition between the categories of righteousness and wickedness is particularly illuminating. The
more divine righteousness is revealed to be an expression of a pure divine
gift to the righteous, the more the shadow of judgment falls upon the
wickedthe unfaithful who can never partake of divine righteousness. In
principle, divine righteousness is valid for all members of the covenant
people but only under the condition that they respond with fidelity and
confidence. Human infidelity alone creates the wall that divides the righteous from the wicked as far as partaking of the benevolence of divine
righteousness is concerned. The opposition between the righteous and the
wicked is shown most clearly in the book of Psalms by the distress of the
just psalmist who begs for divine righteousness/deliverance: divine righteousness should show itself in deliverance from the hands of the wicked.
c. Interpretation in Translations
Ancient translations are surprisingly accurate in rendering the Psalms.
There are almost no paraphrases. In contrast to most other parts of the
Hebrew Bible, the Targum Tehillim employs the Aramaic variants of the
Hebrew root sdq: the noun fdaqa (Pss. 4.2; 22.32; 35.24), sidqd (Pss. 5.9;
7.18; 31.2; 35.28; 36.11; 40.11; 51.16; 71.2, 19, 24; 72.1; 88.13; 97.6;
98.2; 103.17; 119.40, 142, 160; 143.1; 145.7), sidqa' (Pss. 23.3; 40.10;
72.2; 85.11, 12, 14; 119.62), sidqata7sidqeta' (Pss. 24.5; 33.5; 48.11;
65.6; 89.15,17; 94.15; 96.13; 97.2; 98.9; 99.4; 103.6; 119.142,144,172),
271
sidquta'(Pss.36.1;l\.\5, \6),sedeq(Pss.35.27; 119.123, 164; 143.11),

zekut/zekuta' (Pss. 9.9; 50.6; 72.3; 111.3; 119.106); the adjectives saddiqa'
(Pss. 11.7; 69.28; 72.7), zakka'd (Pss. 7.10, 12; 9.5; 116.5; 129.4),
zakka(')y (Pss. 119.75, 139; 145.17); verb forms from the root zkh (Pss.
19.10; 51.6).
The concept dikaiosyne or dikaios appears almost exclusively in the
Septuagint. Since the translation is always literal, it is not clear whether
the translator was using the word in the classical Greek sense or in the
characteristic Hebrew one. This question also hangs over three exceptions
where the translator uses the word eleemosyne (Pss. 24.5; 33.5; 103.6). The
situation in the Vulgate is essentially the same. In the majority of examples
the translation uses iustitia, occasionally aequitas (Pss. 9.9; 97.13; 119.40,
75, 144,172; 143.11). In Pss. 24.5, 33.5 and 103.6 the Vulgate also uses
the word misericordia. Hence we can conclude with certainty that the
Vulgate depended upon the Septuagint.
A similar consistency can also be found in the Renaissance translations.
Luther uses the noun Gerechtigkeit consistently in his translation of the
book of Psalms, yet the adjective occurs in two different forms: gerecht
and recht. The latter occurs in the following phrases: '(Gott ist) ein rechter
Richter' (Pss. 7.12; 9.5); 'er fuhret mich auf rechter Strafie um seines
Namens willen' (Ps. 23.3); 'Auf das durechtbehaltest in deinen Worten'
(Ps. 51.6); 'Derm Recht muB doch Recht bleiben' (Ps. 94.15); 'Herr, ich
weifi, das deine Gerichte recht sind' (Ps. 119.75); 'Derm alle deine Gebote
sind recht' (Ps. 119.172). The KJV/AV expresses all these forms with
English analogues: righteousness, righteous and to justify. The only exception concerns God's kingship in Ps. 89.15: 'Justice and judgment (sedeq
umispat) are the habitation of thy throne: mercy and truth shall go before
thy face'. This exception is all the more striking because in Ps. 97.2 the
same phrase is rendered as expected: 'righteousness and judgment are the
habitation of his throne'.
In Buber and Rosenzweig's version the concept of sdq is expressed in
the relevant passages using derivatives from the root wahr: Bewahrheitung
(Pss. 4.2; 24.5; 35.27; 103.6), (sick) bewdhren (Pss. 19.10; 119.144;
129.4), (der) Bewdhrte (Ps. 12.1lBewahrung(Pss. 22.32; 35.28; 36.7,11;
40.11; 48.11; 51.16; 71.15, 16, 19, 24; 88.13; 89.17; 97.6; 98.2; 103.17;
111.3; 119.7,40,62,106,123,142,160,164; l45.1),Bewdhrtspruch(Ps.
69.28),wahrerscheinen(Ps. 51.6), \vahrhaftig(Pss. 7.12; 23.3; 119.137;
145.17), Wahrhaftiger(Pss. 7.10; 11.7), Wahrhqftiges&s.AQ.lO), Wahrhaftigkeit (Pss. 5.9; 7.18; 11.7; 31.2; 35.24; 65.6; 71.2; 72.3; 85.11,12,14;
272
99A; 119.138; 143.1,11), Wahrheit (Pss. 33.5; 72.2; 89.15; 94.15; 97.2;
119.75, 172), Wahrspruch (Pss. 9.5, 9; 72.1; 96.13; 98.9).
In the RSV and the NRSV, the derivatives from sdq are rendered mainly to
convey the sense of righteousness/deliverance: acquittal (Ps. 69.28), deliverance (Pss. 22.32; 40.10; 51.16; 65.6), just (Ps. 145.17), to justify (Ps.
51.6), right (Pss. 4.2; 23.3 [NRSV]; 119.75, 172), righteous (Pss. 7.10, 12;
9.5; 11.7; 19.10; 94.15 [subject humans]; 116.5; 119.7,62,106,123,137,
142, 144, 160, 164; 129.4), righteous acts/deeds/help(Pss. 11.7; 71.15;
71.24), righteousness (Pss. 5.9; 7.18; 9.9; 23.3 [RSV]; 31.2; 33.5; 35.24,28;
36.6; 50.6; 71.2,16,19; 72.1,2,3,7; 85.11,12,14; 89.15,17; 96.13; 97.2,
6; 98.9; 99.4; 103.17; 111.3; 119.40, 138,142; 143.1,11; 145.7), saving
help (Pss. 40.11; 88.13), salvation (Ps. 36.11), victory (Ps. 48.11), vindication (Pss. 24.5; 35.27; 98.2; 103.6).
At this point, a comparison between a few passages of the NRSV and the
CEV is illuminating. Ps. 7.12 in the NRSV: 'God is a righteous judge, and a
God who has indignation every day'. The CEV: 'You see that justice is
done, and each day you take revenge'. Ps. 24.5 in the NRSV: 'They will
receive blessing from the Lord, and vindication from the God of their
salvation'. The CEV: 'The Lord God, who saves them, will bless and reward
them'. Ps. 33.5 in the NRSV: 'He loves righteousness and justice; the earth
is full of the steadfast love of the Lord'. The CEV: 'He loves justice and
fairness, and he is kind to everyone everywhere on earth'. Ps. 35.24 in the
NRSV: 'Vindicate me, O Lord, my God, according to your righteousness,
and do not let them rejoice over me'. The CEV: 'And prove that I am right
by your standards. Don't let them laugh at me.' Ps. 51.6 in the NRSV:
'Against you, you alone, have I sinned, and done what is evil in your sight,
so that you are justified in your sentence and blameless when you pass
judgment'. The CEV: 'You are really the one I have sinned against; I have
disobeyed you and have done wrong. So it is right and fair for you to correct and punish me.' Ps. 116.5 in the NRSV: 'Gracious is the Lord, and righteous; our God is merciful'. The CEV: 'You are kind, Lord, so good and
merciful'. Ps. 145.17 in the NRSV: 'The Lord is just in all his ways, and
kind in all his doings'. The CEV: 'Our Lord, everything you do is kind and
thoughtful'.
3. Conclusion
The first observation to be made is that ancient, Renaissance and most

recent standard versions are all based on the formulaic principle of trans-
273
lation: vocabulary and phrasing is relatively uniform. It is clear that Martin

Luther or Martin Buber and Franz Rosenzweig, for example, deliberately
used the same translation equivalents. But how did the 'collective' translations such as the Septuagint, the KJV/AV and the most recent standard
translations achieve such consistency?
In such cases, consistency was more or less possible because one person
or a committee coordinated and edited the whole work. Views were harmonized in joint discussions and decision-making, as is shown by various
reports on the work of translation. The report by Philippe Reymond (1967)
on the TOB, for instance, states that the committee's guiding principle was
unity of vocabulary and phrases. Even though I had not yet heard about
the methods for achieving homogeneity of vocabulary in other countries, I
composed a list of about 400 key concepts for my translation and editing
work in the project of the new Slovenian translation of the Bible. The
existence of numerous synonyms and antonyms is one of the reasons why
the main theological vocabulary has to be unified.
This survey of the vocabulary used to translate God's righteousness
requires some appreciation of individual types of translation. A comparison of translations in various versions shows that the question whether the
subject of the concept of righteousness/justice is God or humans might
have played a crucial role in some places in the selection of the particular
word in the translation. Some translators apparently assumed the subject of
righteousness/justice to be human when the divine subject should have
been taken for granted. Nonetheless a general appreciation of the tasks of
translation and an understanding of the Hebrew notion of righteousness/
justice was decisive. The classical ancient, and some recent, translations
testify to the fact that the translators were professional biblical scholars or
specialists in literature in general. They were therefore capable of grasping
the original meaning and of finding an appropriate literary form in the
receptor language. The translators of some recent contemporary versions
are obviously less well qualified, as the renderings distorting both the
original meaning of God's righteousness and the universal literary forms,
beginning with parallelismus membrorwn, show.
The Bible has a unique and exclusive place in the religious history of
Jewish and Christian cultures. It would, therefore, seem safer to follow the
traditional, classical hermeneutics rather than the proponents of the dynamic equivalence method of translating. The claim that the search for a
dynamic equivalence in translation is in agreement with the classical translations of the Bible, and makes the meaning of the text clearer, is becom-
274
ing increasingly doubtful with the appearance of every new translation

based on this theory. The great works of Bible translation (Septuagint,
Vulgate, Luther's Bible, KJV/AV, etc.) testify more or less clearly to the
principle of unity between content and form as far as universal poetic and
rhetorical forms are concerned.
Bibliography
Buber, M.
1930
Krasovec, J.
1988
Luther, M.
1972
Reymond, P.
1967
'On Word Choice in Translating the Bible: In Memoriam Franz Rosenzweig', in M. Buber and F. Rosenzweig, Scripture and Translation (trans. L.
Rosenwald with E. Fox; Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press): 73-89.
La Justice (sdq) de Dieu dans la Bible hebraique et I 'interpetationjuive et
chretienne (OBO, 76; Freiburg: Universitatsverlag; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck
& Ruprecht).
Die gantze Heilige Shrifft Deudsch: Wittenberg 1545 (Munich: Bogner &
Bernhard).
' Vers une traduction fran9aise cecumenique de la Bible', in G.W. Anderson
etal. (eds.),Hebrdische Wortforschung: Festschriftzum 80. Geburtstagvon
Walter Baumgartner (VTSup, 16; Leiden: E.J. Brill): 231-43.
FROM DAVID TO DAVID: PSALM 24 AND DAVID CLINES

Francis Landy
David Clines's essay on Psalm 24, 'A World Established On Water',1 has
always been one of my favourites, and one I have always wanted to respond
to. It is Clines all over: pugnacious, clever, imaginative, funny and passionate. Also he succeeds in offering an interpretation, albeit, he claims, a
'bespoke interpretation', which seems to me to come very close to the real
issue in the poem. Further, I share David's ambivalence about it. Psalm 24
is for me the Hebrew equivalent of 'Land of Hope and Glory', inspiring the
same mixture of affection and contempt.
Clines's argument is perhaps deceptively easy to summarize. He begins
with a 'reader response' criticism, in which he notes that the psalm is factually incorrect, since the earth is not founded on water,2 and ethically unacceptable, since it supposes that holiness is exclusive of sinners and that God
is a warrior. 'In subscribing to Psalm 24, we are writing a blank cheque for
war...' (Clines 1995:176). Next he conducts a deconstruction, by which
he means that the overt ideologies of the text are shown to be incoherent.
There are four major points, of which perhaps the most important is that
the ideology of God as a warrior subverts the purity demanded of the worshipper. Finally, he recommends a practice of'bespoke' or 'customized'
interpretation, interpretation orientated to whichever interpretative community you happen to belong to. The success of an interpretation is to be
judged not by its truth to the text in question, but by its acceptance by that
community.
It is here that the essay becomes rich and strange. For suddenly Clines
the critic gives way to Clines the poet. He advances the 'bespoke' interpretation that the psalm concerns the difficulty of exegesis in an indeterminate
1. 'A World Established On Water (Psalm 24): Reader Response Criticism,
Deconstruction, and Bespoke Interpretation' (1993). The essay is republished, considerably revised, in Clines's 1995 collection of essays. My references are to this version.
2. What about continental drift?
276
world, and that the 'king of glory' is the hermeneut who achieves the apotheosis of scholarly acclamation, and then he intimates, if only for a moment,
the appositeness of this thesis to the poem and to poetry in general. 'I
wanted to expose the fragility, the volatility, of the text, its weakness and
its incoherence.. .to point up the fragility of texts in general, the inconclusiveness of interpretations, and the impulse to stitch them together again
no matter how' (186). It is here that he becomes true, both to the poem,
and, I think, to himself, throughout his thirty or more years of criticism.
In this essay I offer my own reading of Psalm 24, in dialogue with that
of Clines, so as to assert that we are a community of interpreters, whose
health is to be measured not by the success of any particular understanding
but by the seriousness of our response to each other and to the text. It seems
to me that Clines is asking very serious questions, and deserves a serious
and attentive response.
But it is also a performance; in fact, Clines is rather clearly fulfilling our
expectations of the pleasures to be obtained from a Clines essay. I suspect
he is enjoying himself, though joy is not always a word associated with
our profession. It is not just a reading of the text and the issues it entails; it
is also a creation of the critic, reader and poet, and a work of self-exposure. The fragility of texts of which Clines speaks evokes the fragility of
the self that writes them and comments on them. The questions that pervade our poem, 'Who will go up to the mountain of YHWH?', 'Who is this
king of glory?', inevitably provoke questions such as 'Who is this Clines?'
and 'Who am I?'
Reader response criticism has always had two distinct aspects. One is
the study of the semiotics of the communication process in literature; the
other is the shift of critical focus from the author and text to readerly
reception. The readerly self, as Eco (1994) points out, may differ from the
self in its interaction with the world; indeed, we inhabit in part an alternative world with a different set of experiences and skills, but nonetheless,
reading is one activity in which we can be free of everyday encumbrances.
Clines, however, is distinctly unforthcoming about the readerly experience. He tells us that Psalm 24 is 'fine and famous' (Clines 1995:172), but
he does not tell us why it is fine and famous.
For what really interests Clines is the ethical question: how can we take
pleasure in a text indifferent to the values it promotes? The question goes
back to Plato, and if pursued consistently would eliminate much of world
literature. I don't see it troubling our colleagues in Classics or Sanskrit.
LANDY From David to David
211
But it seems to be prevalent in contemporary biblical studies.3 In part this

is a consequence of a half-acknowledged theological agenda, and the ambivalent attachment of many of us to the Bible and its authoritative claims.
But it also reflects an awareness that none of us can be purely 'etic', uncommitted observers of a textual phenomenon.4 We are all of us textual
constructs, read by the text as well as reading it.
What are we to make of images like' YHWH puissant and mighty, YHWH
mighty in battle' (Ps. 24.8)? Of course, it evokes the whole tradition of
divine violence in the Hebrew Bible, paradigmatically the conquest of
Canaan. What are we to make of my pleasure in such images? Is this pleasure a purely masculine identification with the hero? What would a devotee
of Kali say? I doubt if our literary personae are gendered that simply. At
any rate, the psalm comes from, and speaks for, a different world. I don't
have to be a believer in that God, or any God, to value it, just as I don't have
to be a believer in Indra to take pleasure in the Vedas or the Mahabharata.
The very difference of the psalm is part of its appeal to me; through it I
travel through time and between worlds. It is also my ethical responsibility
to listen to the messages of that poet in that other world for what they can
tell me about that world, as well as, perhaps, about mine.
This does not account for my particular pleasure inyhwh 'izzuz wegibbor,
'YHWH puissant and mighty'. I am not sure that I would find any actual encounter with YHWH puissant and mighty, Kali, or Dracula, that pleasurable. This raises an obvious point, that YHWH puissant and mighty is not
YHWH puissant and mighty. We have a textual representation, a trace, of
divine violence, not only in my mind but in that of the poet. The literary
consumption of violence is a dangerous pastime, as the contemporary histories of India and Israel show. Nonetheless, it is consumption at one or
more remove, and for most readers, and poets, stays that way. Through it
the poet and reader may participate vicariously in God's triumph, drawing
on its fearsome satisfactions. The transmutation of God's consummation
into poetry displaces it, leaves it aside, so as to become the material of
3. Much feminist and ideological criticism concerns precisely this question. One
may note, for instance, the special issue of Semeia on Bible and Ethics of Reading,
edited by Danna N. Fewell and Gary A. Phillips (1997).
4. The problem of 'etic' and 'emic' interpretation is pervasive in Religious Studies and Anthropology, with the recognition that the reader and interpreter cannot be
purely detached. Cf. the remarks at the beginning of Carrasco (1999:1-4) and the recent
article of Tweed (2002). For a stirring defence of maintaining the distinction between
emic and etic interpretations of the Bible, see Davies (1995).
278
poetry, what it thinks of, and with. The poem, indeed, is about the violence
of God, and how to accommodate that violence in language and the world.
We should not expect it to be a 'good' poem. But it may be a true poem, in
that it truly confronts and tries to make sense of that which is most
unacceptable to us.
I must confess, though, that I find the poem, and these lines in particular, a bit silly. It is not simply that the glorification of the God of War is inseparable from that of war, and hence a patriotic and theological ideology
that most of us find embarrassing. It is not even the nakedness of its expression, embarrassing precisely because it is crude. It is an effect of the rhetoric, whose insistence, with its repetition of the last lines, suggests to me a
hollo wness, a phallic uncertainty. Who is this king of glory? Who indeed?
The pleasure of the text, as Barthes (1973) points out, is in any case excessive;5 it is that which is experienced over and above the overt message of
the poem. Pleasure draws on strange resources; our literary pleasures are as
hard to locate, and as surreptitious, as our other delights. In this poem, and
habitually in Hebrew biblical poetry, pleasure is correlative to parallelism. In HQn'pQ "n33 n ~11331 TIT!? 71, 'YHWH puissant and mighty, YHWH
mighty in battle', my pleasure is linked to the repetition of 'YHWH' and
"1133, 'mighty'. "1133 moves from third position to second, in an ellipse;
YHWH'S power is concentrated in this one phrase. The repetition both augments the messageYHWH is doubly powerful, as it wereand diffuses
it; the less semantic content, the greater the rhythmic, phonemic and sensory impact. To look more closely, T1TU and "1133 are virtual synonyms;
their coupling both suggests the profligacy of the lexicon, its inadequacy
to account for the divine glory, and the tendency of words to lose distinct
meanings. To look even more closely, T1TI7 affords me a particular pleasure;
the addition of the final syllable, zuz, is a poetic coinage6 which amplifies
the unmarked adjective, I S , 'strong'. T1TI7 is one better than TU; it is to be
super-strong. Moreover, it makes 'z', through the superfluous doubling, a
sound peculiarly associated with divine power. One can imagine metaphorical and synaesthetic components of this linkage; the 'z', as a voiced
continuant, may buzz with the resonance of God's advent. But I would
emphasize the inarticulate, unstructured aspect of the association. 'Z', as
pure sound, independent of meaning, represents YHWH as pure power
5. A valuable application of Barthes to the erotics of reading the Song of Songs is

Black (1999a, 1999b).
6. It only occurs here and in Isa. 43.17, where it appears to be a noun.
279
and also the possibility of pure jouissance,7 in language whose driveenergy has not yet been shaped, repressed and transmuted into symbolic
worlds.
What I find most pleasurable is also that which I find most silly; the
repetitions, the unabashed celebration of power, the unrelenting rhythm.
This may indicate a divided aesthetic consciousness, which turns up its
nose at that which it secretly enjoys, and, more pervasively, the aesthetic
ambivalence and tension Freud perceived as characteristic of art. Our
critical enthusiasms and resistances are suspect, or, as Clines would say,
founded on water.
And there to be deconstructed? Or self-deconstructing? Clines's reflections on the poem's own work of self-construction/deconstruction are in
one respect very traditional. A long line of sober critics regards this psalm
as incoherent, a set of fragments stuck together.8 Others interpret it in
terms ofrelecture, the adaptation of one genre in terms of another (Podella
1999; Kraus 1991). Clines sees the fractures, or the clash between genres
and ideologies, as being evidence of the poem's unconscious tensions, the
inherent failure of its programme. There are problems with Clines's deconstructive approach, as with deconstruction generally.9 For one thing, the
contradictions he perceives are overstated. To give but one example, Clines
asserts that the requirement for clean hands to enter the divine gates excludes the deity, whose fingers drip with gore (Clines 1995:178). But the
7. Barthes contrasts 'pleasure' and 'jouissance' throughout Le Plaisir du Texte,
while insisting on the ambiguity of the term 'pleasure', and lamenting the lack in
French of a single word to cover both concepts (1973:29-30). 'Jouissance' refers to the
unexpected, unconditioned joy one sometimes experiences in literature, cinema, etc.,
corresponding to sexual orgasm, 'plaisir' to the culturally conditioned euphoria induced
by the literary or artistic work. Both are in excess of the social and structural function
and functioning of the text (29).
8. 'There is.. .a general tendency to regard it as a composition made up of three
fragments of different origin' (Kissane 1953: 106). Others divide it into two (Kraus
1988: 311). It should be noted that Kraus himself does not agree with this view. However, Klaus Seybold (1996: 104) does think it is composite.
9. Deconstruction, as a practice or unified theory, would be self-defeating. Deconstruction, in essence, is a very close reading and critique of the logocentricism of western
philosophy, especially after Hegel. A very succinct summary of the issue is to be found
in Morris (1991: 235): 'Deconstruction derives all its critical force from the way that it
questions certain kinds of mystified truth-claim while yet subscribing to the highest standards of argumentative rigour and respect for the protocols of textual close reading...
this fact.. .is.. .lost upon those who embrace deconstruction as a license for dispensing
with every last notion of truth, validity, and reason'.
280
Temple is the place of sacrifice, in which blood is sprinkled if not on the

deity, at least in his immediate vicinity. Priests' hands are hardly spotless.
More fundamental than the details of Clines's deconstruction is the
enterprise itself. Why deconstruct? One answer is that it qualifies Clines to
enter a desired hermeneutic community with analytical purity and critical
integrity. Another, however, is that it conforms to his ethical agenda. Not
only does he not like what the Psalm says, but it does not actually say it.
It is here that I begin to wonder. Deconstruction suffered from hegemonic claims, and poetry, and non-western thought in general, is ill served
by it.10 Deconstruction, moreover, is fun, but, as Derrida (1996: 95) says,
it is an analysis, a taking apart, which poetically precedes synthesis. If we
are left only with the deconstructed pieces, we might feel that the work has
not yet started.
What Clines has missed, I think, is that the abrupt transitions and
inconcinnities are characteristic of metaphorical thinking, whereby two or
more apparently unrelated or contradictory items are perceived in relation
to each other, to contribute to a cumulative vision. It is indeed a poem about
world-building and orienting, as Clines says (1995:185), and world-building is coterminous with poem-building. The poem is an image in language
of the world.
'YHWH's is the earth and its fullness, the world and its inhabitants.' We
begin with a gesture of belonging, that we, and everything terrestrial, originate in YHWH and are subsumed under him. YHWH is the starting point
from which the poem emanates and to which it returns. The 'fullness' of
the world suggests totality, indeed, a semiotic satiety to which nothing can
be added, but also the variety of created things, and hence the perfection of
creation according to Genesis 1 and Psalm 104. This 'fullness' of creation
will become more concentrated as the poem proceeds, but also more
etiolated. We begin with the plenitude of language and the world, out of
which the poem has to select its own words and images, and with a sacred
and political realm that is increasingly articulated. The movement of the
poem, from world to Temple, from the density of existence to its implication in, transmutation of or exclusion from sacred space, metaphorically
conforms to the movement of language towards apophasis. As the poem
progresses, so its semantic load is reduced, leaving it open to the advent of
the divine glory.
10. It is noteworthy that Derrida, at least, consistently opposes philosophy to poetry,

e.g., in his essays on Jabes and Celan, and Greek thought to Hebraic thought.
281
The parallelism, * YHWH'S is the earth and its fullness/the world and its
inhabitants' matches synonyms or virtual synonyms. The B clause adds
nothing of significance to the A clause, since nothing can be added; it
merely provides imaginative space for its contemplation.11 'Earth' (JHK)
and 'world' (*?nn) differ only in that the latter is a poetic term;12 their coupling indicates, among other markers, conventional poetic idiom or metalanguage, through which one enters into a special domain of discourse,
with its associated commonplaces of thinking and feeling. 'Its inhabitants'
(nn "HET1) brings the fullness to life;13 the added prepositional phrase H3,
'on it', completes the couplet through rhythmic balance and through the
rhyme nfcl^Q / i"D, and, more important, returns us to the first subject,
jHN, 'earth', with which it agrees in gender. The verse is linear, passing
from A to B, but it also describes a circle, in which the last word refers
back to the main subject and thence to YHWH. It is a closed unit, representing a closed if replete world, which can only be augmented, expanded or
unfolded through juxtaposition.
The next verse, 'For he founded it on the seas, and established it on the
rivers', is another synonymous parallelism. Both verses, moreover, match
each other; in each an introduction referring to God gives rise to two complementary images of earth.14 The parallelisms impart equilibrium, both
metrically and through the lack of dynamic movement between their parts.
Verse 2 logically precedes or is contemporaneous with v. 1. The fabula
the underlying narrativein which God founds the earth and therefore
owns it reverses the forward movement of the recit, its verbal expression.
The verbs 'found' (ID"1), 'establish' (pD) and 'dwell' (DCT) communicate
stability, inherence. It is thus very surprising to hear that it is founded on
water, that its solidity rests on fluidity.
11. One could adapt James Kugel's famous formula, 'A, and what's more, B!' to
'A, and what's more, A!' for this verse.
12. Mazor (1993: 305) argues that "?3P refers to cultivated land and thus is a more
limited term than j"~)N. Consequently, the relationship between the two clauses of the
parallelism is one of increasing focus. However, the concordance does not support
Mazor's thesis. See also Kraus (1988: 313).
13. Miller (1986: 34), like Mazor, regards this as an instance of specification within
parallelism, in accord with Robert Alter's (1985) thesis of the dynamics of intensification or heightening within parallelism.
14. Seybold(1996:104). Auffret (1990:106-107) notes that the coupling of YHWH
and 'he' (Kin) occurs both at the beginning and the end of the poem. In the last section
of the poem, however, mentions of YHWH occur at the end of each unit. The poem is
thus framed by a trajectory from YHWH as creator to YHWH as victor (1990: 107).
282
It is not enough to say, with Clines (1995: 172), that the psalmist is
wrong. That is to mistake a poetic for a scientific discourse. Ancient cosmography tells us little about the world, but much about the mental universe of the poet. As Clines says (186), it is foundationally insecure, with
repercussions which are ethical and political as well as cosmic. The association of'seas' and 'rivers' with primordial chaos needs no elaboration.15
God's establishment of the earth is accompanied by the pacification of the
primeval waters. God's victory over chaos is the condition for creation,
but it is also the prototype for all divine victories. The celebration of God
as puissant and mighty must refer, at least in part, to the beginning of the
poem. God comes from creating the world and defeating his enemies;
however, the antagonists, if subdued, are always potentially insurgent.
The middle section (vv. 3-6) focuses our attention on the mountain of
YHWH and the individual who wishes to ascend it. The mountain of YHWH
may be a microcosm; its relation to the rest of the world would then be
analogous to that of the world to its chaotic foundations. But it is also a
centre, and hence appropriately occupies the centre of the poem. It also
introduces a quest, whereby the adherence of the earth to God is enacted
by the human who moves from the periphery to the centre, from the foot
of the mountain to its summit, culminating in the holy place. The ascent is
communicated through the verbs nbl?, 'go up', and Dip, 'rise', and the
combination of synonymous and sequential parallelism in v. 3. The holy
place is a point of convergence, indicated by the word play between Dip1',
'rise', and DlpQ, 'place'. The act of rising suggests self-transcendence as
well as humility in the holy place, and that in any case the movement
upwards is not concluded.16
The ascent in v. 3 is the core action in the psalm, reciprocated by the
acquisition or 'lifting up' of blessing in v. 5. The action is repeated with different actors, and thereby gains ever greater resonance. The repetition of
the action makes it paradigmatic, but also increases the potential for reinterpretation and subversion. It is here that a deconstructive critique, which
is no different, I would stress, from normal reading, might be pertinent.
15. Seybold (1996: 104); Kraus (1988: 313). See, in particular, Ps. 93.3, which is
closely related to this verse. Keel (1978: 16-55) provides abundant ancillary evidence.
Again, Mazor (1993: 306) thinks that m~n3 is a more limited term than D"1 Q"1, but is not
supported by the biblical evidence.
16. Auffret(1990: 103-104) argues that the whole of w. 1-6 is unified by morphological variants on the theme of rising.
283
The middle section belongs to a genre of which a prime example is a

psalm often paired with ours, Psalm 15.l7 In it a question as to who may
enter or survive in the divine precincts is answered by a list of virtues such
a person will possess.18 This genre is a subset of the claim that ethics supersedes ritual, widespread in the Prophets and Psalms. Sin and impurity, as
Jonathan Klawans (2000) has recently shown, were separate categories in
the Hebrew Bible. Sin did not contaminate God's holiness, and sinners
were not excluded from the Temple. The psalm's presupposition is historically incorrect and belongs, indeed, to a polemic against Temple practice.19 One wonders what this section is doing in a psalm which may have
been performed liturgically, whether ritual accommodates its own critique,
and whether the mountain of YHWH here is the physical Temple mount or
some metaphorical counterpart.
In contrast to the two outer ones, the middle section is anthropocentric.
From the cosmos and the mountain of YHWH we reach the heart and soul
of the successful postulant. The person who rises in the sacred place
embodies its qualities. The human being, and within the human being the
heart (3D1?) and soul (tfSD), are the focus of the earth's fullness. On the
mountain, YHWH and the ideal human being meet; the human being is
infused with God's holiness. Yet they remain distinct; between them the
drama of the poem is enacted. The human at the centre is the antithesis of
YHWH at the extremities.
The human,20 however, is empty: clean of hands, luminous of heart.21
He is a tabula rasa, unsoiled by the world and its complexities. The two
expressions for clarity or impeccability of action and thought are matched
by two negations: 'who does not lift up his soul22 to vanity, and is not
sworn to deceit' (v. 4). The negations, and likewise the freedom from
17. Girard (1984: 205); Lohfink (2000: 58-59; Kraus (1988: 313-14). Auffret
(1982: 407-38) proposes that Pss. 15 and 24 form the outer ring of a unified composition embracing the two.
18. Another example is Isa. 33.14. For comparative material, see Keel (1978:126).
19. See, in particular, the discussions of Podella (1999) and Kraus (1991).
20. The human seems to be male, at least grammatically. I am presupposing, however, an androcentric mindset, corresponding to the late and rather pious communities
in which I imagine this poem to have been written.
21. "Q is usually translated as 'clean' or 'pure'. Its association with luminosity is
evident from Ps. 19.5, where the commandment of YHWH is H~n, enlightening the
eyes, and Song of Songs 6.10, in which the woman is as !T"D as the sun.
22. Reading the kethib 12J] for the qere ''(DSD. Some translate EJSD as 'throat', but
this seems to me to be too limiting an interpretation.
284
imputation, are, one assumes, a reverse portrait of the unsuccessful or indifferent applicant, of humanity at large. The formulations are unspecific,
especially when compared with Psalm 15, and indeterminate; the vanity
and deceit could refer to other deities or to delusions and duplicity in
general.23
In any case, his virtue is reciprocated; his lack of delusion, guilelessness, innocence and undarkened mind are compensated for by or permit
the influx of divine blessing and righteousness. The human being is defined
negatively; its renunciation of common human desires, initiatives, temptations, and cunning make it into a psychic space free for the access of divine
gifts. Since he does not 'lift up' (NET) his soul to delusion, he can 'lift up'
(WET) blessing from YHWH. That he lifts up blessing suggests that it comes
from below, perhaps from within himself.
'Righteousness', HplJf, is paired with 'blessing', as a gift from God.
Their meanings interfuse; blessing is manifested in np"TJf and vice versa.
HplH is clearly a divine as much as a human ethical attribute, 'rectification'
rather than 'rectitude'.24 It proceeds from 'the God of his salvation' and is
its harbinger or vehicle. The parallel terms blessing/righteousness and
YHWH/the God of his salvation thus indicate a soteric teleology. Clines
wonders why, and in whose eyes, the visitor needs vindication (1995:
177). This seems to me not to be the point. For 'salvation' is the object of
all desire, promises ultimate satisfaction. We begin with the world originating in God and primordial theomachy; at the centre we have another
point of origin, at the end and within the worshipper.25
Something in me wants to read 1&EJ] in v. 4 with the qere as "'KJSD, 'my
soul'.26 The reference would either be to the psalmist and his anxiety that
people not take him seriously, deconstruct him, or to God, who would
intrude momentarily in the first person. The allusion to the third commandment would be more overt.27 The misprision of God's name, or God
23. Seybold(1996: 105). Girard(1984:205), however, thinks that 1(D refers only to
idolatry. See also Dahood( 1965:151),Beauchamp(1976:120) and Murphy (2000:82).
24. For an example of npTH in this sense, common in late and eschatologically
orientated texts, see Isa. 1.27 and commentaries ad loc.
25. Auffret (1990: 105), regards these two occurrences of YHWH as demarcating
the extremes of a complex chiasm.
26. Botha (1994: 364), also prefers the qere, adducing the reference to the third
commandment. Dahood (1965: 151) adopts the qere too, but regards it as being an
instance of a third-person -y suffix.
27. In addition to Botha, see also Kraus (1988: 314), Seybold (1996: 105) and
Weiser( 1962: 234).
285
himself, is a persistent anxiety in the Hebrew Bible, the converse of the

equivocal desire to be known.281 do not wish to press this reading for its
own sake, but to suggest that between the qere and the kethib a gap opens,
which permits two alternative readings of the poem. Through this gap the
subversive reader may enter.
Why should I want to read like this, against the grain? Perhaps it is a
romantic desire to hear a personal voice, or to make things more difficult
for myself. At any rate, the hesitation between the two possibilities, even
momentarily, ensures that the poem is not closed, that its order, like that of
the world, is fissile.
A much more serious ambiguity is germinal to v. 6: 'This is the generation of those inquiring after him, those that seek your face, O Jacob'. Up to
this point the psalm has concerned space, contracting from the world to the
mountain to the heart; now time is substituted for space.29 The individual
ascending the mountain of YHWH is typical of his, and the Psalmist's,
generation; his age is represented as the apex of history. Behind this generation are the ghosts of many others, which presumably did not share its
quest, since the deictic, !"IT, singles it out.30 This is emphasized by the word
play between TH, 'generation', and VETn, 'inquiring after him', as if the
generation were homonymous with its quest.31
The second half of the verse, despite the straightforward parallelism of
ttrn/tfjpn, 'inquire after/seek', and 'him/your face', changes the third person for the second person of the object, and introduces a vocative, Jacob.
Is the addressee God, in accordance with the first part of the verse and the
entire pilgrimage context? Or is it Jacob? Is Jacob an abbreviation of 'the
God of Jacob', or is it a free-floating apostrophe, in apposition to the second-person addressee of 'your face', that is, God, as well as to the concluding exclamatory selahl If Jacob is the object of the search, is he an
28. The anxiety is most evident in passages such as Isa. 1.10-17, critical of cultic
misappropriation of YHWH, which are related to our psalm and Ps. 15.
29. For the importance of time in the psalm, see Botha (1994: 366). Kraus (1988:
314) eliminates the temporal reference by interpreting "in as 'type'. Dahood (1965:
151 -52), citing an Ugaritic parallel, suggests that it is a synonym for 'eternity' and that
HT refers to God. 12Tn, in his reading, is a second-person imperative. He translates
accordingly, 'The One of Eternity seek'.
30. Botha (1994: 364) notes that this is the answer to the question 'Who?' in v. 4,
and that the psalm is in part constructed round such questions and answers; cf. also
Beauchamp (1976: 119). Auffret (1990: 103) thinks that it is Jacob.
31. Mazor (1993: 310 n. 6) suggests that it is a play on the commonplace formula,
TH "HI, though its meaning is the opposite.
286
idealized representative of Israel and hence the focal point of the community? Conversely, Jacob as Israel may be the goal of a search by the nations,
corresponding, for instance, to Isa. 2.3 (Lohfink 2000: 61).32 In that case,
the difference between Israel and the nations, or between the ideal individual and his community and the rest of humanity, is erased.
These possibilities are not mutually exclusive. Jacob, even if the object,
signifies communion with God. The nations, for instance, approach God
through Jacob. But the ambiguity does suggest a radical turn, grammatical,
emotive and ideological. We read the text with a set of conventional assumptions, and we can either shore up those assumptions through reconstruction, at the cost of extreme syntactic discontinuity, or change them. It
is not that one reading is necessarily preferable to the other, but their
coexistence means that we cannot know what the poem is talking about,
and that one reading affects or modifies the other.
n "?0 is climactic and signals a shift to a new section of the poem. Whatever problems v. 6 leaves us with will not be resolved, at least not immediately. Instead, we have a new addressee, the gates. Again, however, we have
an irresolvable ambiguity. Are the gates the gates of the Temple, as most
scholars assume, or are they celestial gates, as proposed by Marc Girard
(1984: 207)?33 In that case, the phrase DÛ ^HHS, 'doors of eternity',
indicates a transition from time to timelessness, and from the world to that
which transcends it. Again, there is no need to solve the problem, and
there may be no discontinuity between heavenly and earthly realms (Kraus
1988: 315). Nonetheless, two very different readings of the poem are possible. In one, God's entrance coincides with that of the pilgrims, and his
day's adventures, especially if one regards the poem as a liturgy, end with
his ceremonial return.34 In the other, God enters his own sacred space, inaccessible to the pilgrims, and the movement of the poem is not from beginning to an end that recapitulates and celebrates it, but a progressive ascent.
32. Beauchamp (1976: 120) also sees this psalm as stemming from the same
Josianic circle as Isa. 2.3. Others correct the MT in conformity to the LXX (e.g. Kraus
1988:311).
33. Cooper (1983) proposes a third interpretation, that the gates of eternity are the
gates of the underworld, citing Egyptian parallels. In his view the passage celebrates
YHWH'S victory over death. There is, however, very little evidence from within the
Hebrew Bible to support Cooper's thesis.
34. A time-encrusted interpretation is that this psalm accompanied the re-entry of
the Ark to Jerusalem. See most recently Stager (2000:45). There is no evidence, however, for such a ceremony, still less for the association of the psalm with it.
287
The gates are liminal, between the Temple and that which is outside it,
between the world and its centre. But God is outside the gates. The centre
then is empty, except perhaps for the poet. The whole movement of the
poem is towards a point which is never reached.
'Who is this King of Glory? YHWH, puissant and mighty, YHWH mighty
in battle.' The victory over the sea is echoed in that over Canaan. YHWH
returns home to his settled polity. However, the reprise of these verses
drops the martial imagery, except perhaps for the standard formula 'YHWH
of Hosts', whose military connotations seem to me doubtful.35 Instead, the
reprise merely repeats, 'He is the King of Glory'. Why does it do this, and
why are the last two verses repeated?
A simple answer is apophasis, the dissolution of language, imagery and
mythology, including the mythology of conquest, in the epiphany. The
empty space at the centre corresponds to an empty space in language.
However, the motif of divine rest is persistent in the Hebrew Bible. Rest
precludes conquest, it is a moment beyond violence. It is here that the poem
ends, with a final H^D, a word signifying a pause or a climax, a convergence of meaning and sound, and, presumably, music.
Where does God come? He comes home. Home is Zion or its heavenly
equivalent. Zion is God's female partner, daughter, and also a maternal
figure, both for Israel and the nations, as Erich Zenger (2000) has pointed
out. God, in entering the empty space of the centre through the portals of
eternity, is entering maternal space, as mother, husband or child. The
space at the centre is also a matrix.
Bibliography
Alter, Robert
1985
Auffret, Pierre
1982
1990
The Art of Biblical Poetry (New York: Basic Books).

La sagesse a bati sa maison: Etudes de structures litteraires dans I'Ancien
Testament et specialement dans les Psaumes (Fribourg: Editions universitaires).
'Qui est ce roi de la gloire? Etude structurelle duPs 24',Revue Thomiste90:
101-108.
Barthes, Roland
1973
Le Plaisir du texte (Paris: du Seuil; ET Richard Miller, The Pleasure of the
Text [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990]).
35. In Gen. 2.1, for instance, N3H seems simply to designate the denizens of
creation.
288
Beauchamp, Evode
1976
Le Psautier: Ps 1-72 (Paris: Gabalda).
Black, Fiona C.
1999a
'The Grotesque Body in the Song of Songs' (unpublished PhD thesis,
University of Sheffield).
1999b
'What Is My Beloved? On Erotic Reading and the Song of Songs', in Fiona
C. Black, Roland Boer and Erin Runions (eds.), The Labour of Reading:
Desire, Alienation, and Biblical Interpretation (Senieia Studies; Atlanta:
SBL): 35-55.
Botha, P.J.
1994
'Psalm 24: Unity in Diversity', OTE 7: 360-69.
Carrasco, David
1999
City of Sacrifice: The Aztec Empire and the Role of Violence in Civilization
(Boston: Beacon).
Clines, David J.A.
1993
' A World Established On Water (Psalm 24): Reader Response Criticism,
Deconstruction, and Bespoke Interpretation', in J. Cheryl Exum and David
J.A. Clines (eds.), The New Literary Criticism and the Hebrew Bible
(JSOTSup, 143; Sheffield: JSOT Press): 79-90.
1995
Interested Parties: The Ideology of Biblical Writers and Readers of the
Hebrew Bible (JSOTSup, 205; GCT, 1; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press).
Cooper, Alan J.
1983
'Psalm 24: 7-10: Mythology and Exegesis', JBL 102: 37-60.
Dahood, Mitchell
1965
Psalms. 1.1-50 (AB, 16; New York: Doubleday).
Davies, Philip R.
1995
Whose Bible Is It Anyway? (JSOTSup, 204; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic
Press).
Derrida, Jacques
1996
Archive Fever: A Freudian Impression (trans. Eric Prenowitz; Chicago:
Chicago University Press).
Eco, Umberto
1994
Six Walks in the Fictional Woods (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press).
Fewell, Danna N., and Gary A. Phillips (eds.)
1997
Bible and Ethics of Reading (Semeia, 77; Atlanta: Scholars Press).
Girard, Marc
1984
Les Psaumes: Analyse structurelle et interpretation: 1-50 (Montreal: Bellarmin; Paris: Cerf).
Keel, Othmar
1978
The Symbolism of the Biblical World: Ancient Near Eastern Iconography
and the Book of Psalms (trans. Timothy J. Hallett; London: SPCK).
Kissane, Edward
1953
The Book of Psalms (Dublin: Brown & Nolan).
Klawans, Jonathan
2000
Impurity and Sin in Ancient Judaism (Oxford: Oxford University Press).
Kraus, Hans-Joachim
1988
Psalms 1-59: A Commentary (trans. Hilton C. Oswald; Minneapolis:
Augsburg).

1991
289
'Tore der Gerechtigkeit', in Dwight R. Daniels (ed.), Ernten, was man sat:
Festschrift fur Klaus Koch zu seinem 65. Geburtstag (Neukirchen-Vluyn:
Neukirchener Verlag): 265-72.
Lohfink, Norbert
2000
'Covenant and Torah in the Pilgrimage of the Nations (Isaiah and Psalm
25)', in Lohfink and Zenger 2000: 33-84.
Lohfink, Norbert, and Erich Zenger
2000
The God of Israel and the Nations: Studies in Isaiah and the Psalms (trans.
Everett R. Kalin; Collegeville: The Liturgical Press).
Mazor, Yair
1993
'Psalm 24: Sense and Sensibility in Biblical Composition', SJOT1: 303-16.
Miller, Patrick D.
1986
Interpreting the Psalms (Philadelphia: Fortress Press).
Murphy, Roland
2000
The Gift of the Psalms (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson).
Norris, Christopher
1991
Spinoza and the Origins of Modern Critical Theory (Oxford: Basil
Blackwell).
Podella, Thomas
1999
'Transformationen kultischer Darstellungen: Toralirurgien in Ps 15 und 24',
5/0712:95-130.
Seybold, Klaus
1996
Die Psalmen (HAT, 1/15; Tubingen: Mohr).
Stager, Lawrence
2000
'Jerusalem as Eden', BARev 26: 36-47.
Tweed, Thomas A.
2002
'On Moving Across: Trans locative Religion and the Interpreter's Position',
JAAR 70: 253-77.
Weiser, Artur
1962
The Psalms: A Commentary (trans. Herbert Hartwell; Philadelphia: Westminster).
Zenger, Erich
2000
'Zion as Mother of the Nations in Psalm 87', in Lohfink and Zenger 2000:
123-60.
TWELVE COMMANDMENTSTHREE STAGES:

A NEW THEORY ON THE FORMATION OF THE DECALOGUE
Bernhard Lang
Although the Decalogue, considered here in its Deuteronomic version

(Deut. 5), is one of the most famous and familiar texts of the Hebrew
Bible, it is far from being easily understood. In this paper, I will argue that
once it is realized that the Decalogue reached its present form by stages,
some of the interpretative problems of this text find their solution. I distinguish three successive stages of textual growth. The first stage is a short
series of five exclusively religious commandments; the second stage adds
the five non-religious injunctions of the Decalogue's 'second table' and
thereby creates a list often commandments; the third stage, with its addition of the Sabbath commandment, gives the text its traditional form. At
the third stage one has apparently counted six commandments of the first
and six commandments of the second table, so that the present text was
most likely understood as a dodecalogue.
1. The Decalogue (Deuteronomic Version), Considered as a Whole
Although scholars have spent much energy on elucidating the Decalogue,
this biblical text remains in many ways a riddle. In what follows I offer a
number of new suggestions that may help our understanding of this difficult passage. It may be best to start with a working translation of Deut.
5.6-22 which incorporates some of the suggestions I shall make and
explain in detail:
(6) I am Yahweh your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out
of the house of bondage.
[I] (7) You shall have no other gods before me.
[II] (8) You shall not make for yourself a graven image, or any likeness of
anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in
the water under the earth;
LANG Twelve Commandments
291
[III] (9) you shall not bow down to them or serve them; for I Yahweh your
God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children to
the third and fourth generation of those who hate me, (10) but showing steadfast love to thousands of those who love me and keep my commandments.
[IV] (11) You shall not take the name of Yahweh your God in vain: for
Yahweh will not hold him guiltless who takes his name in vain.
[V] (12) Observe the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Thus Yahweh your God
commands you: (13) Six days you shall labour, and do all your work; (14)
but the seventh day is a Sabbath for Yahweh your God; in it you shall not do
any work, you, your son, or your daughter, or your manservant, or your
maidservant, or your ox, or your ass, or any of your cattle, or the sojourner
who is within your gates, that your manservant and your maidservant may
rest as well as you. (15) You shall remember that you were a servant in the
land of Egypt, and Yahweh your God brought you out thence with a mighty
hand and an outstretched arm; therefore Yahweh your God commands you
to keep the Sabbath day.
[VI] (16) Honour your father and your mother.
Thus Yahweh your God commands you that your days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with you, in the land which Yahweh your
God has given you:
[VII] (17) You shall not kill.
[VIII] (18) Neither shall you commit adultery.
[EX] (19) Neither shall you steal.
[X] (20) Neither shall you bear false witness against your neighbour.
[XI] (21) Neither shall you covet your neighbour's wife;
[XII] and you shall not desire your neighbour's house, his field, or his manservant, or his maidservant, his ox, or his ass, or anything that is your neighbour's.
First of all I must explain where and how my translation departs from
standard versions found in our printed Bibles. Part of the Sabbath commandment is generally rendered as follows:
(12) Observe the Sabbath day, to keep it holy, as Yahweh your God
commanded you. (13) Six days you shall labour, and do all your work; (14)
but the seventh day is a Sabbath of Yahweh your God; (in it) you shall not
do any work... (after RSV).
The words k'sr swkyhwh are generally understood as referring to an earlier occasion on which God had given this commandment: 'keep it holy, as
Yahweh your God commanded you (earlier)', and the implication might
be that in Deuteronomy, Moses, by quoting the Decalogue, refers to God's
original commandment given at Mount Sinai. A more natural understanding of the Hebrew wording implies that the phrase, rather than referring
back, actually is designed to introduce what follows:
292

(12) Observe the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Thus [= as follows] Yahweh
your God commands you: (13) Six days you shall labour, and do all your
work; (14) but the seventh day is a Sabbath of Yahweh your God; (in it)
you shall not do any work...
This translation can be justified philologically on the basis of a recently

published ancient Hebrew inscription; dating from c. 700 BCE it is presumably a scribal exercise text. It reads: 'Thus (= as follows) commands you
Ashyahu the king: To be given into the hand of Zakaryahu silver of Tarshish for the house of Yahweh3 shekels' (Lang 1998).1
Looking at Deut. 5.16, where we again find the words k'sr swkyhwh,
we can make another observation. Traditionally, the verse in question is
rendered as follows:
(16) Honour your father and your mother, as Yahweh your God commanded
you; that your days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with you, in
the land which Yahweh your God gives you (after RSV).
I have often wondered why life and well-being in Yahweh's land are
attached to just this one commandment, the one concerning the parents. I
am sure my students remember having heard me explain that the divine
promise, though literally associated with the parental commandment,
should actually be taken as being valid for each one of the Decalogue
commandments. This view can be supported on the basis of the Deuteronomic speech of Moses in which he addresses the Israelites, saying:
Therefore you shall keep his statutes and his commandments, which I
command you this day, that it may go well with you, and with your children
after you, and that you may prolong your days in the land which Yahweh
your God gives you for ever (Deut. 4.40).
Now as I consider the implications of the possibility of starting an ancient

Hebrew sentence with the words k'srswk, implied in the Hebrew inscription just mentioned, I prefer to dissociate the promise given in v. 16 from
its specific and exclusive association with the parental commandment. I
suggest the following rendering:
(16) Honour your father and your mother. Thus [= as explained above]
Yahweh your God commands you, that your days may be prolonged, and that
it may go well with you, in the land which Yahweh your God gives you.
1. Another passage that may involve the forward-looking use of & 'sr can be found
in Deut. 18: 'but they shall have no inheritance among their brothers; Yahweh is their
inheritance. Thus (k 'sr) he told them: this shall be the priests' due from the people...'
(Deut. 18.2-3, disregarding the Masoretic verse division between w. 2 and 3).
293
This time, the words seem to refer to all the previously given commandments (exclusive worship of Yahweh, no images, etc.), including, of course,
the injunction to honour one's parents. But the phrase may also, in Janus
fashion, look forward, introducing the commandments that follow:
(16) Honour your father and your mother. Thus [= as explained in what follows] Yahweh your God commands you, that your days may be prolonged,
and that it may go well with you, in the land which Yahweh your God gives
you: (17) You shall not kill. (18) Neither shall you commit adultery.
In the Exodus version of the Decalogue, things are different. Here the
promise is attached exclusively to the parental commandment: 'Honour
your father and your mother, that your days may be prolonged in the land
which Yahweh your God gives you' (Exod. 20.12). I take the entire Exodus version of the Decalogue to be a later adaptation of the original Deuteronomic text, made by someone who no longer understood the original
function of the promise as the conclusion of the 'first table'.
As is well known, the Decalogue is in two parts: the first gives religious
injunctions (w. 7-16) and the second 'civil' ones (w. 17-21). This pattern
is rough rather than neat, for the last commandment of the first series appears, at least at first sight, to be a non-religious one: 'Honour your father
and your mother'. Read in their ancient Near Eastern cultural context, these
words admonish people to support and care for their aged parents (Lang
1977). However, a closer analysis reveals that in the context of the Decalogue, the parental commandment may well be classified as 'religious'. In
two places, the Decalogue refers to parents; the first reference is to 'the
iniquity of the fathers' (v. 9), the second one to honouring 'your father and
your mother' (v. 16). These two sets of parents cannot be identical. The
solution is as follows: the Decalogue, in its (at first sight invisible) 'deep
structure', thinks in terms of three generations. The first generation is that
of the 'bad' ancestors, those who committed 'the iniquity of the fathers'.
This expression can be used to determine the date of our text. It must be
the time after the end of the Judaean state, that is, after 586 BCE. The passage blames the national disasterthe destruction of Jerusalem and the
Babylonian exileon 'the iniquity of the fathers', that is, their violation of
the commandment to worship Yahweh exclusively. The 'fathers' are the
immediate fathers of the generation of the exile: the men who in 609 BCE
defected from King Josiah's reform by returning to Judah's traditionally
polytheistic religion. Due to the sin of the fathers, the present or second
(exilic) generation finds itself in a situation of punishment. The present
generationthe second one on our counting, the one to whom the Deca-
294
logue is addressedis challenged to detach itself from 'the iniquity of the

fathers' and, by firmly embracing the proper form of religion, to stop the
divine punishment under which they suffer. Finally, the third generation
the sons and daughters of the exilesis admonished to honour their parents' decision to stay faithful to the exclusive worship of the one God. The
discontinuity between the first and the second generation is balanced by
the continuity between the second and third generation. This continuity
was no doubt primarily seen in religious terms, and so it makes sense to
include the commandment 'Honour your father and your mother' among
the religious injunctions.
That the Decalogue prioritizes religious commandments over civil ones
also comes to the fore when we start counting its words. Counting the words
of biblical passages smacks of arcane numerology, and most biblical scholars refrain from engaging in this doubtful art. But, occasionally, counting
does yield results that are interesting if not actually relevant to exegesis.
This seems to be the case with the Decalogue. The Decalogue, beginning
with v. 6 ('I am Yahweh your God') and ending with v. 21 ('or anything
that is your neighbour's') has 189 Hebrew words; of these, 146 are taken
up by religious commandments (from v. 7 to v. 16a); by contrast, only 27
words are used for civil injunctions (from v. 17 to v. 21). The word at the
very centreno. 95 of 189 wordsis l-yhwh, 'for Yahweh', and this expression may be taken as a kind of religious slogan of the Decalogue compiler. It was no doubt intentional that the compiler placed the expression
'for Yahweh' at the very centre of his text, and that the Decalogue uses
this divine name ten times (no more and no less frequently).
We could stop at this point and enjoy the idea of having made some
progress in understanding an important biblical text. It is tempting,
however, to offer reasonable speculations on how the Decalogue gradually
grew and eventually came to have the form we now read in the Bible. This
will be done in what follows.
2. Toward a Prehistory of the Decalogue
Several features of the Decalogue call for an explanation: (1) Why are
there, according to the most natural counting, twelve rather than ten commandments? The Decalogue itself does not force us to look for exactly ten
(rather than twelve, or any other number) commandments; nevertheless,
the Bible does occasionally refer to the Decalogue as the 'ten words'
(Deut. 4.13), though without telling us how to count. There seem to be
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more commandments and prohibitions than ten. A possible solution might

be the assumption that the Decalogue is not transmitted in its original
form, for an originally shorter text may have been expanded, perhaps by
the addition of certain commandments. (2) The second problematic feature
is v. 16b, for it conveys a sense of closure in the middle of the Decalogue:
'Thus [= as explained above] Yahweh your God commands you, that your
days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with you, in the land
which Yahweh your God gives you'. Here the solution may be the assumption that the original, shorter Decalogue ended at v. 16b. (3) A thirdand
to the non-specialist no doubt less pressingproblem has to do with the
reference to the Sabbath (w. 12-15). Scholars assume that the Sabbath
originated not in a Deuteronomic milieu, but in a 'sacerdotal' one; this can
be concluded from the fact that, outside of the Decalogue, Deuteronomy
and Deuteronomistic literature never refer to the Sabbath; so-called
priestly texts, by contrast, have several versions of the commandment to
keep the Sabbath day (Exod. 31.12-17; 35.1-3; Lev. 19.3; 23.3; Num.
15.32-36; see Lang 2001a). So one wonders whether the Decalogue in
Deuteronomy 5 originally lacked the commandment to keep the sabbath
day, and it was introduced at a later stage of textual development.
Considering all these issues I have made an earlier attempt to reconstruct the history of the Decalogue (Lang 200 Ib). In what follows I offer a
revised, somewhat simpler version, one that is more economical in its critical assumptions. I present my reconstruction in the hope that the analysis
will challenge others to engage with it in critical dialogue and either find
more arguments to support it or refute my speculations.
Stage 1: The Pentalogue
God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children
to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me, (10) but showing
steadfast love to thousands of those who love me and keep my commandments.
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[V] (16) Honour your father and your mother.
Thus Yahweh your God commands you that your days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with you, in the land which Yahweh your
God has given you.
The text seems to have been compiled from several building blocks
prohibitions in which God speaks in the first person and others that refer to
God in the third person. These building blocks must have belonged to
different, now lost textual structures, but were reused here and left intact,
presumably because of their sacred or at least traditional character. Compiled of somewhat heterogeneous, first-person and third-person commandments, the text was framed by the self-presentation of God'I am Yahweh
your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of
bondage'and the conclusion: 'Thus Yahweh your God commands you,
that your days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with you, in the
land which Yahweh your God has given you'. Reconstructed in this manner, vv. 6-16 (minus w. 12-15) are a text complete in itself, a text that
challenges its addressees to commit themselves to the exclusive worship
of Yahweh, the God of the Exodus and of the giving of the land of Israel.
What we have here is a series of five commandments which is complete
in itself. It is purely religious in nature and does not include any 'secular'
prohibitions. As I have pointed out above, even the parental commandment is here taken as a religious one, for it admonishes the younger people
among the addressees to continue their parents' commitment to orthodox
Yahwism. The 'Stage 1' text blames the national disaster on 'the iniquity
of the fathers', that is, their violation of the commandment to worship
Yahweh exclusively. Set in the first person singular as if God himself was
speaking, the passage may have been a priestly or prophetic oracle delivered in the liturgy of a community of exiles in Babylonia; the very expression 'the iniquities of the fathers' seems to belong to the language of
priestly oracles (see Exod. 34.7; Num. 14.18). The 'Stage 1' oracle challenges the exilic addressees to detach themselves from 'the iniquities of
the fathers' and thereby assure their living in post-exilic Palestine. What I
have said earlier in this paper (see above, Part 1) on the relationship
between three generationsthe generation of the fathers, that of the sons
of these fathers, and that of the grandchildrencan help us understand the
mentality of the pentalogue as that of a new generation intent on distancing itself from that of the 'fathers' and on creating a continuity with their
children.
297
Stage 2: The Double Pentalogue or Ten Commandments

Subsequently, the purely religious nature of the earlier textthat of Stage
1was no longer maintained. An editor felt that the series of five religious
prohibitions and commandments should be matched by an equal number
of civil commandments. Accordingly, the pentalogue was expanded by the
addition of vv. 17-21:
God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children
to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me, (10) but showing
steadfast love to thousands of those who love me and keep my commandments.
[V] (16a) Honour your father and your mother.
(16b) Thus Yahweh your God commands you that your days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with you, in the land which Yahweh your
God has given you:
[VI] (\1) You shall not kill.
[VII] (18) Neither shall you commit adultery.
[VIII] (19) Neither shall you steal.
[IX] (20) Neither shall you bear false witness against your neighbour.
[X] (21) Neither shall you covet your neighbour's wife; and you shall not
desire your neighbour's house, his field, or his manservant, or his maidservant, his ox, or his ass, or anything that is your neighbour's.
The addition, printed here in italics, is a fine series of five commandments or, rather, prohibitions, all of which are phrased in the same way.
Added to the five commandments of Stage 1, we get a double pentalogue.
All of the new commandments are short, and the overall structure is a long
religious pentalogue, followed by a short non-religious pentalogue. The
addition of 'civil' law to the pentalogue repeats the general movement of
the entire history of biblical law. Two basic types of law are juxtaposed
and mergethe civil law of Mesopotamian provenance and the religious
law indigenous to Israel. Thus the Decalogue's distinctive blend sums up
the history of law in biblical Israel and brings it to its logical conclusion,
presenting its essence in the form of a small set of laws accompanied by
298
explanations and exhortations (what we have termed the pentalogue),

followed by a short series of civil-law commandments that needed no
explanation. Religion comes first, and civil law is added as a kind of
afterthought; this seems to be the implied, though not articulated message.
Or, in modern parlance, religion sustains and encompasses the realms of
law and ethics, but cannot be reduced to it. It makes sense to assume that
at this stage the expression 'the two tables' was coined (v. 22). The idea
that there were two tables of the law (Deut. 4.13'two stone tablets') may
reflect the form of the passagea unity made of two parts. This is how
Josephus read the text: 'two tables on which were graven the ten words,
five on either of them' (Josephus, Ant. 3.101).
Interestingly, v. 16b'Thus Yahweh your God commands you that your
days may be prolonged, etc.'is now used to introduce what follows; or
rather, the same words may be read as both concluding the first series of
five commandments (the religious pentalogue) and as introducing the
second series of five commandments (the civil pentalogue).
Stage 3: The Twelve Commandments or Dodecalogue
A subsequent editor missed a reference to the Sabbath in the ten commandments (Stage 2), and, by inserting the long Sabbath commandment of
vv. 12-15, gave the Decalogue its final form, the one found in our Bibles
and translated above, in Part 1.
There can be little doubt that in the eyes of the editor who inserted the
Sabbath commandment it was precisely the Sabbath that mattered most.
The Sabbath commandment was apparently new, and so people had to be
instructed in the details of its ruleshence a commandment that is longer
than any other commandment of the Decalogue. The injunction to keep the
Sabbath day now appears as the pivotal commandment, the one which
structures the individual's life most visibly. In its wording, the Sabbath
commandment combines language characteristic of the 'sacerdotal' milieu
('Sabbath', 'holy') with typically Deuteronomic rhetoric ('Yahweh your
God', 'with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm'), as if two authors
with two different schoolings had cooperated in its compilation. The inserting editor must have been influenced by the 'sacerdotal' school of exilic
Israel (sixth century BCE, presumably), which, as indicated above, did much
to promote the Sabbath as a new institution.
The addition of the Sabbath commandment upsets the relatively balanced
structure of the 'Stage 2' textfive religious plus five civil commandmentsfor now, at Stage 3, we have six religious commandments plus
299
five civil ones. This imbalance was presumably solved by a different way
of counting the non-religious commandments of the 'second table'. The
tenth commandment of the 'Stage 2' textthe one prohibiting the appropriation of someone else's estate during the owner's prolonged absence
(Lang 1981)was presumably seen as consisting of two prohibitions, and
so the complete, balanced text was seen as made up of six religious and six
civil commandments.
As a result, the ten commandments have become twelve commandments. I wonder how the editor responsible for the 'Stage 3' text, the one
now printed in our Bibles, dealt with the fact that Deuteronomy actually
refers to the Decalogue as 'the ten words' (Deut. 4.13; 10.4). I venture the
suggestion that the editor, by using the divine name Yahweh ten times in
his text, tried to make up for the disappearance of the set of 'ten' commandments. For him, the dodecalogue is a text marked by ten sacred wordsthe
tenfold reference to Yahweh.
The passage immediately following the Deuteronomic Decalogue is
worth considering at this point:
These words Yahweh spoke to all your assembly at the mountain out of the
midst of the fire, the cloud, and the thick darkness, with a loud voice, and
he added no more. And he wrote them upon two tables of stone, and gave
them to me (Deut. 5.22).
The text of the two tablets of the law is now complete and must not be
tampered with any longer. In other words: there were enough revisions,
and there should be no more adding to the text which now had become the
Decalogue. 'These words Yahweh spoke to your assembly.. .and he added
no more' (v. 22). At this point, the modern interpreter also has reason not
to add any more commentary.
Nevertheless, one concluding point may be appropriate. Is the assumption of a complicated textual development in several stages really warranted? As a matter of fact, in many cases, biblical scholars seem to resort
to theories of layering too frequently and without sufficient reason. I think
that few biblical texts show signs of multiple editorial activity or reworking; some, however, do have these signsand it is generally the important
texts, for only important texts were worth editing and re-editing. It is to
these important texts that the Decalogue belongs.
300

Bibliography
Gorg, M. and B. Lang (eds.)

2001
Neues Bibel-Lexikon (3 vols.; Zurich: Benziger).
Lang, B.
1977
'Altersversorgung,BegrabnispflichtundElterngebot',ZDMGSup3:149-56.
1981
'Du sollst nicht nach der Frau eines anderen verlangen: Eine neue Deutung
des 9. und 10. Gebots', TAW93: 216-24.
1998
'The Decalogue in the Light of a Newly Published Palaeo-Hebrew Inscription (Hebrew Ostracon Moussaieff no. 1)', JSOT11: 21-25.
2001a
'Sabbatgebot', in Gorg and Lang 2001: III, 391-94.
2001b
'Zehn Gebote', in Gorg and Lang 2001: III, 1186-88.
HOLY PERSUASION: THE BIBLE AS ADVERTISING*

Burke O. Long
When scholars of postmodern sensibilities do their work, they give up the

conviction of being able to occupy a vantage point from which they know
something outside the play of power, interest and ideology. Of course,
these scholars hardly discard modernist premises entirely. Theirs is a dialectical culture of dissent, since heresy gains substance in part from denning the orthodoxy it rejects (Long 2000).
One marker of this new situation is that professional biblical scholars
who adopt postmodern perspectives no longer assume that they are specially trained guardians, Master Knowers, who employ rigorously objective, historical methods to discover the original and most valued meanings of biblical texts. Deprived of that firewall, biblical scholarship is open
to hermeneutical diversity, which involves self-conscious awareness that
scholarly practices are entangled with ideology and politics. Typically
free-ranging, transgressive inquiry competes in the arena of contested
truth, and often with high stakes in struggles for social change.
Yet one disciplinary paradigm of modernist biblical scholarship, the idea
of a singular text-as-object (despite its complicated history of composition),
remains undisturbed even if, under postmodern analysis, it is admitted as a
necessary fiction of critical study. The Bible, a singular entity fixed in late
antiquity, isolated and embraced by scholarly imagination, yields its
secrets to tool-gathering, compounding consciousness. The recently published Handbook of Postmodern Biblical Interpretation (Adam 2000) illustrates the point. The compendium includes informative introductions to the
thought of influential postmodern theorists. It also offers many essays, for
example, on postcolonialism and queer theory, that show how biblical
scholars have conscripted a broad range of theory and cultural studies into
It is a pleasure to dedicate this essay to my friend and colleague David Clines.
His energy, inventiveness and restless travel along the frontiers of biblical knowledge
have always been exemplary and inspirational.
302
the traditional service of illuminating the received, and objectified, biblical

text.
However, somewhat obscured in the fluidity of postmodern scholarship,
other studies imply not so much the controlling idea of a singular, written
Bible as the notion of many bibles, each one realized in different cultural
and historical circumstances. Thus, one may now read of bibles represented
and materialized as entertainment (Aichele 2000) and fantasy (Aichele and
Pippin 1997), or bibles constructed out of willful liaisons with often stigmatized elements of contemporary pop culture, such as body awareness,
pornography and fast foods (Moore 1996; Boer 1999).
Such culturally constructed bibles, of course, exist in relation to the
written Bible. They live, however, as ephemeral moments of interactivity.
Along with hints of context and social history, they survive, fossil-like, in
various artifactsan advertising card, a film or a broad bill, a painting, an
essay, a series of photographs. The written Bible (this must.be represented
in discourse, too) is (or was) in its new cultural representation, and the
new representation is (or was) as it references the written Bible. In these
situations, neither the Bible nor its ephemeral representation claims priority
for scholarly inquiry. Both have to be imagined together in dynamic interaction with each other. Moreover, both have to be visualized in relation to
those who, for example, appropriate a 'Bible' film and thus share in the
creation of a culturally specific Bible/bible.
Today, in hunting artifacts of such Bible/bibles, scholars depart their
monkish cells and abandon their exegetical obsessions with a single text.
They roam more promiscuous hauntsmuseums, newspapers, theme parks,
popular music, science fiction, visual arts, television shows, feature films,
religious book stores, even cyberspace. Analytical energy flows toward
understanding Bible/bibles which are, or have been, realized in complex
events of cultural production and appropriation.
Cheryl Exum and Stephen Moore recently celebrated these new initiatives
and, without exactly saying so, recognized the fundamental re-imagining of
scholarly object that is occurring.
Biblical studies/cultural studies is not just the Bible influencing culture or
culture reappropriating the Bible, but a process of unceasing mutual redefinition in which cultural appropriations constantly reinvent the Bible, which
in turn constantly impels new appropriations... (Exum and Moore 1998:35).
As a modest contribution to this trend, and drawing upon a larger study

underway, I offer some comments on two artifacts of pop culture that strike
me as typical of what I have so far been able to locate. Each is a trace of a
LONG Holy Persuasion
303
past event of 'mutual redefinition' in which a North America-specific Bible/

bible was invented and promulgated as a commodity of nationalism and
consumerist capitalism. I try to imagine each as a moment of cultural realization, the dynamic interplay of image, allusion and Bible interpretation
entangled with cultural values, religion and political ideologies.
The Buckeye Promised Land
In the United States, 1888 was a presidential election year. The Aultman
Miller Company of Ohio used the occasion to distribute a colorful folding
card advertising one of its products, the light-weight, two-horse 'Buckeye'
hay binder.
Figure 1. Buckeye Centennial, front cover. The Henderson-Achert

Lithograph Co., 1888.
On the front cover, figures suggestive of Daniel Boone and family look
westward, Moses-like, toward a cultivated and industrialized Canaan. In
304
the near distance, a farmer harvests golden grain, undoubtedly with Buckeye equipment. The pioneers have their sights on something more distant,
however. They gaze toward a huge factory and goods-laden trains, all
sending forth smoky banners of industrial might. Beyond these, the backlighted horizon intimates more factories, the open West that invited all
Americans to contemplate the future of limitless possibility. A future, that
is, for certain members of the population. For to the right of the pioneers
sits a dejected Indian figure, his very name a misnomer of erasure given
him by mercantile invaders looking for a western passage to 'India'. He
seems to contemplate not the luminous West, but some inner space of dismal fortune. Perhaps he has internalized all directionality, all sense of prospect, as defeat and dispossession. The caption addresses a reader, viewer,
prospective purchaser of hay binders, directly and simply: 'Our Predecessors Viewing the "Promised Land'".
The reverse side of the card (Fig. 2) maps the political landscape of Ohio.
Boundaries of congressional districts, statistics of population and voting,
and the decorative iconography of a farming landscape characterize Ohio
as home to the Buckeye manufacturing facility and as overwhelmingly
rural, despite cities such as Cleveland and Cincinnati. The statistics suggest that Ohio is vital to all political parties, not least for the state's economic prosperity. The Buckeye factory alone is worth 3.3 million dollars,
a final notation proclaims, or about one dollar for each resident.
Festooned with American flags, presidential candidates Benjamin Harrison and Grover Cleveland dominate this cartographic space. One simple
sentence blends candidates, patriotism, the Buckeye company and political
intimations into a timely and civic minded appeal: 'Take your choice'.
Which goes for purchasing farm equipment, too.
This complexly conflated image is emblematic of ideologically charged,
symbolic meanings associated with an iconic Bible. Yet, the written Bible
is present in its absence. A single phrase simultaneously quotes from the
iconic book, stands for its entirety, and authorizes Bible-like sanctity for a
nationalist narrative of westward expansion.
In short, the Buckeye 'Promised Land' bible realized American myth
and biblical typology. Like the Puritan divines of New England, this Bible/
bible affirmed America as a redeemer nation and, in the service of capitalist
enterprise, invoked biblical patterns to explain the significance of events,
people and situations of United States history (Bercovitch 1983; Noll
1982).
305
Figure 2. Buckeye Centennial, back cover. The Henderson-Achert

Lithograph Co., 1888.
Of course, memory of a biblical narrativeMoses being shown all of

Canaan from the heights of Mount Nebostood behind the Buckeye artist, whose application of Deut. 34.1-4 belongs to a long history of cultural
appropriation. In 1659, Nicolas Visscher the Elder drew a map of the 'Holy
Land as Moses Viewed it from Mt Pisgah'. Visscher's artistic projection,
which looked west and north from the Transjordan plateau, would subsequently dominate Dutch delineation of the Holy Land for the next century
andahalf(Nebenzahl 1986: 132).
Although fresh and arresting as cartography, the vantage point was not
entirely original. The narrative moment, which typically incorporated into
itself Nebo and Pisgah as a single place, had been favored in typological
exegesis at least since the European Middle Ages. Moses saw more than
the promised land, Christian exegetes asserted. He looked far beyond the
physical confines of Mount Nebo, far beyond the unspoiled riches of
306
Canaan, and glimpsed the advent of Jesus, the Redeemer. Later Victorian
literature and music extended the type to those Christians who, on their
deathbeds, were permitted the sight of heaven or the risen Savior (Landow
1980; 1992). French artist James Tissot translated this sentimentalism onto
canvas around 1900 and inspired a commentator's remark, in 1936, that
'in his mind's eye [Moses] must have seen much more of what lay in the
future' (Harby 1936: 65).
The radiant power of Moses and Mount Nebo inspired Christian pilgrims of late antiquity to locate Mount Nebo in the highlands northeast of
the Dead Sea (Piccirillo 1992). The traditional identification held firm and
nineteenth-century travelers continued visiting the site. Although many
were driven to authenticate biblical events through geographical science,
they also sought primal religious experience. It made little difference that
Nebo's precise location remained stubbornly elusive.
Edward Robinson, innovative, scientifically minded, drew near the area
in 1838. 'I was much interested', he wrote, 'in looking out among the eastern mountains for Mount Nebo.' Disappointed when he could not find the
scriptural mountain, Robinson settled for what piety demanded of him,
and what feeling he allowed himself. Surely, at the least, he must be
standing very near the spot of venerable inspiration. Somewhere from
these plains Moses must have clambered up
to some high part of the adjacent mountains; from which he would everywhere have an extensive view over the Jordan Valley and the mountainous
tract of Judah and Ephraim towards the western sea (Robinson and Smith
1868:1, 570; italics in the original).
Frank DeHass, American Consul in Jerusalem in the 1870s, was much

more effusive. Writing that he had at last realized a dream of his life,
DeHass was quite satisfied that his meticulous analysis of biblical geography had overcome all doubt as to the authenticity of the location bequeathed to modern pilgrims. Now he, like Moses, looked westward into
the promised land (DeHass 1882: 341).
About thirty years later, biblical scholar and Assyriologist George Barton
set aside any hesitancy he may have felt. Reflecting on his climb to the
summit, he later wrote, 'This was a great day. Think of standing where
Moses stood and getting his view of Canaan!' (Barton 1904: 150-51).
An ideational space so arresting for religious imagination was enthralling
for armchair pilgrims as well. Jesse Lyman Hurlbut and Charles Foster
Kent, authors of Palestine through the Stereoscope, a popular photographic
tour of the Holy Land, took their readers to Mount Nebo and asked:
307
Can you not with the mind's eye see on that summit a venerable form,
standing erect and alone, gazing upon the land of promise, to whose borders
he led the hosts of Israel, though he was not permitted to enter? To look
upon the land, and then to lie down upon the mount and diethis was the
sublime end of the sublime life of Moses, the Man of God (Hurlbut and
Kent 1914: 159).
Such fantasies, endemic to accounts by Holy Land travelers, were particularly engaging in the United States, which from the beginning of the
Republic had fostered a largely Protestant Christian consciousness of biblical heritage. Running through the literature of Puritan and Revolutionary
America, as Samuel Levine put it, was 'the meta-physical transference of
Holy Land specifics to New World identities' (Levine 1977:23). Early settlers fashioned New World topography out of biblical names (Davis 1995).
Essayists praised the revolutionary wars as a millenarian exodus leading
God's church into a new Canaan, or imagined America's rising glory as
'A Canaan here, another Canaan [that] shall excel the old, and from a fairer
Pisgah's top be seen' (Bercovitch 1975: 145-46). Timothy Dwight cast
George Washington as Joshua leading his Israelites into the promised land
(Dwight 1785). Some seventy-five years later, as westward expansion had
taken hold, one writer extended the typology to the wilds of West Virginia
(Strotherl857).
New England Puritan divines had invented the typological discourse that
defined this errand into the wilderness. In sermons and learned treatises, in
poetry and essays, they sanctified the new social order by the Bible's eternal patterns (Mason 1969). To John Winthrop, for example, the Massachusetts Bay Colony was a figure in sacred history, a 'city on the hill'. Others
saw all of New England as a great 'company in covenant, summoned by
God to a historic mission' whose wayfaring settlers looked 'forward to the
New Jerusalem that is to descend upon Mount Zion' (Bercovitch 1983:
221).
Later, in the nineteenth century, writers transformed this Bible-based
view of American identity to an ever adaptable 'call for order in a community committed to progress, mobility, and free enterprise' (Bercovitch 1983:
221). The malleable myth easily domesticated raw imperialist desire, too.
Symbol-makers asserted the rights of a superior culture to subjugate those
native inhabitants who stood in the way of territorial expansion, which
since colonial times had been accorded glory as an entitlement of national
destiny (Morrison 2001). The Canaan that was to excel the old meant that
Christianity would triumph over paganism, the white race over the dark,
the enlightened over primitive societies (Bercovitch 1983: 222-23). And
308
when some began to view nature, transcendental and sublime, as the source
of prophecy, the old Bible typologies simply embraced the new situation.
Scripture and Nature were complementary.
They were the Old and New Testaments, as it were, of the American way.
The Bible had foretold America; the New World landscape radiated the
types of things to come (Bercovitch 1983: 225).
These notions of American identity shaped the traditions of biography,

too. From the revolutionary period onward, whether chronicled in legend,
poems or adventure narratives, the lives of public figures constituted an
ongoing spiritual biography of America. Authors portrayed heroes as ideal
Americans who in moral character and accomplishments embodied the
true spirit of the nation. This perspective shaped all types of biography,
'from the sagas of folk-heroes, like Daniel Boone, the Moses of westward
migration, to campaign biographies', including the major romantic histories (Bercovitch 1975: 148-49).
It is hardly accidental, then, that the Buckeye artist imagined Daniel
Boone, a quasi-biblical American ancestor, the quintessential scout of unexplored territories, standing on the heights of some new Pisgah, overlooking some new Canaan. Boone had established his fame in explorations of
what would become the state of Kentucky. However, John Filson's account
of early Kentucky history and Frank Norton's lurid novel transformed
Boone into a mythic hero. In folklore, legend, popular song, children's literature and visual art, Daniel Boone symbolized both the spirit of frontier
individualism and the racist entitlement of westward expansion. Through
many permutations of public symbol, according to John Faragher, 'the
notion of Boone as the embodiment of American possibility remains his
most powerful cultural legacy' (Faragher 1992: 341). It thrives in children's books, art exhibitions (Sweeney 1992), even a contemporary poem
by Susan Mitchell:
I felt the grass growing westward
starting to pick up speed
like an animal running for the sheer
joy of running,
and I thought of Boone following his traps
each trap biting deeper
into the green absence of prairie.
I understood
his wanting to keep it for himself,
the space that lay down with him each night,
breathing into his face (Faragher 1992: 342; Mitchell 1984: 223).
309
A century earlier, the Buckeye artist caught something of this seductive

lure of the 'absence of prairie'. In a sense, the trade card relegated to the
past that notion of a divinely ordained right of territorial and racial conquest. Perhaps better said, the mythic substance of manifest destiny now
embraced some new West, a Canaan of agricultural and industrial prowess. It conjured a promised land of capitalist production and democratic
elections, of consumerism and civic duty in 1888. The Buckeye Bible/bible
served as prophecy, and its language both reflected and prefigured all that
some Americans at least discovered, and would discover, to be real and
true about their experiences. Reconfigured in latter-day Puritan discourse,
Moses, or Daniel Boone of the Buckeye Bible/bible, stood yet again on the
heights of Nebo, espying that golden, covenanted land of open possibility,
now in need of harvesting machines.
The Ringling Brothers' Bible
At winter shows in Tampa, Florida, the Ringling Brothers Company sold a
ten-cent promotional booklet, Magazine of Wonders and Daily Review. In
1914, circus goers in this 'Golden Age' of tent shows (Culhane 1990:16382) were told that their ten cents bought them a 'magazine of marvels,
program of the arena, guide to the menagerie', and general information on
'How To Enjoy [the] Ringling Bros. World's Greatest Shows'. As if these
claims were not sufficiently enticing, a full color scene of biblical
opulence lured customers a little further into the big tent. And a banner
across the top of the page trumpeted, 'The Stupendous Historic Bible Spectacle, Solomon and the Queen of Sheba'.
Despite the front cover billing, Solomon and the Queen of Sheba had to
share the ring with America's 'Circus Kings': Otto, Alfred, Charles, John
and Al Ringling (Culhane 1990:145-201). The Magazine of Wonders represented the five as ideal, typical 'Americans'. Both their life storywritten
as a single protagonist morality taleand the huge entertainment business
they created were offered as inspirational examples of benevolent capitalist
enterprise. Sons of German immigrant parents, the brothers lived by a
Bible-based morality (some competitors dubbed their circus the 'Sunday
school show'). They were ambitious and patriotic, and made the most of
opportunities implicitly accepted as available to all. They were models of
capitalist rationality and masters of managerial discipline. They worked
with single-minded devotion to their dreams. And they gained fame and
fortune, starting from nothing.
310
Figure 3. The Queen of Sheba before Solomon. Ringling Brothers' World's Greatest
Shows, Program Booklet, Front Cover. The Strobridge Lithograph Co., 1914.
Like many nineteenth-century histories of public figures, the Ringling

brothers' story amounted to a national biography set in a land of abundant
biblical consciousness and vested with perduring symbols of American
identity. Each of these men might indeed be a 'circus king', but each was a
man of wealth and standing that any ordinary American, at least one favored
by the social biases of law and custom of the time, could dream of becoming.
Crafted out of legend and idealized episodes, and shorn of haphazard
detail, the 'authentic biography' (Ringling Brothers 1914: 1) is a didactic
tale of agonistic triumph. When they founded their show in 1884, asserted
the narrator, refusing them individual names, the brothers possessed little
except imagination and boundless determination. They 'knew not the meaning of the word fail'. They ignored 'the power of all difficulties, and by
seeking to overcome them, they vanquished every vestige of hard luck and
made disadvantages turn to their favor' (Ringling Brothers 1914: 6). Their
311
lives, asserted the narrator, illustrated 'the surpassing advantage of our

great countryour glorious land of golden opportunity'. Moreover, the
brothers are exemplars of a capitalist and Protestant work ethic, for their
moral worth comes through industriousness and achievement. They mark
out the unbounded possibility of every American. Their story has a 'replica
in the history of many men who have won fortune from small beginnings
and gained fame through achievements which mark them as worthy, above
all their fellows, to be examples for others to emulate' (Ringling Brothers
1914: 1-2).
Just as the Ringling Brothers mirrored a mythic image of America from
the inside, so to speak, as individualism and personal achievement, so the
shows they created mirrored a certain public, national image of America.
Following the Spanish American War, the United States was often thought
of as a youthful player, endowed with special character, striding at last
onto the stage of older nations and destined to play the leading role. The
Ringling Brothers circus, wrote the biographer, is 'the typical American
amusement'. It has 'the nervous energy, tremendous growth and imposing
features that savor of the soil, and [it] has lifted into greater importance
than all the other worlds the newest continent, America' (Ringling Brothers
1914:26).
Like conquering heroes, the Ringling brothers earned the 'appreciation
of the public', which 'amply rewarded this foremost American exhibition
for its enterprise, courage and prodigal investment'. In short, the logic of
capitalism worked, aided by aggressive marketing, monopolistic practices
and control of labor that were typical of businesses as yet unrestrained by
government regulation (Weeks 1993:14). As the official biographer admiringly put the matter: the 'World's Greatest Shows' were 'alone in prodigious size, splendid equipment, modern invention, popular esteem and
supreme success' (Ringling Brothers 1914: 28).
Remarkably, the circus animals joined this public acclamation and,
moreover, testified to the upright moral character of their keepers. Readers
were told that the 'monarchs' of the animal kingdomthe 'lordly' lion,
the 'formidable' Bengal tiger, the elephant of extraordinary 'sagacity', all
dwell contentedly under the benign care of the circus kings (Ringling
Brothers 1914: 16-18).
Workers and performers were also among this admiring company of
loyal subjects, living 'in the open while the fields and trees are green and
the skies are distilling health for all nature'. Traveling together, the many
husbands, wives, sons, daughters, uncles and aunts radiate domesticity and
312
family strength. Performers grow up to be 'splendid specimens of manhood and womanhood', as circus patrons could see for themselves in two
full-page photographs of female performers, said to be 'some of the healthiest, best developed, and most beautiful women in America' (Ringling
Brothers 1914: 16D, 16E). These workers make their 'well equipped and
cozy Pullman train' bloom 'cheerily with a genuine domestic pride'.
Outside the home, they enjoy social clubs, sewing bees, care by a 'skilled
physician' and healthy meals prepared by seventy workers in a sanitary
'canvas hotel' (Ringling Brothers 1914:29-31). In brief, the 'Circus Kings'
cared mightily for their workers, at least in this version of successful capitalist triumph, which was on display as much as the elephants and horseback acrobats.
Should show goers have required still more reassurance, the narrator
added that management had taken stringent measures to rid the circus of
'fakirs and thugs', those 'hungry hordes of dishonest camp followers' who
often prey upon the public. Thanks to a 'corps of efficient detectives' the
show grounds are free of this 'long persisted in abuse of the public's
rights' (Ringling Brothers 1914: 8). Patrons would discover a family show
(profanity was banned along with charlatans) and wholesome entertainment. Despite the dubious reputation of tent shows, audiences might have
taken the promoter's pitch. Perhaps they welcomed the performers as
socially acceptable, ordinary neighbors and, just as importantly, show business as benign and quintessentially American. Some of those able to build
winter mansions in Florida and buy the luxury Pierce-Arrow and Haynes
automobiles advertised in the program booklet might also have taken comfort in assuming for themselves such populist generosity.
Worked into the design of this unfurled flag of idealized big-owner capitalist America was the biblical pageant, a fairly common feature of nineteenth-century popular entertainment. As early as 1850, P.T. Barnum
offered biblical dramas and versions of Christianity in a lecture hall annex
built alongside his American Museum in New York City. The pious attractions balanced the sensationalist exhibits of the museum and underwrote
Barnum's efforts to cultivate an audience among middle-class families who
believed in the supreme values of Christianity, temperance, domesticity,
entrepreneurship and whiteness (Adams 1997:75-163; McConachie 1992:
164-69; Allen 1991: 63-65). The Ringling Brothers added 'Orientalism',
that European and North American invention of the East as a place of
romanticized beauty and attractive decadence, available for penetration,
display and subjugation (Ackerman 1994; Kleitz 1988; Said 1978).
313
The Ringling version, the 'stupendous historic Bible spectacle', was an

extravagant fantasy of opulence, a pageant of exotic despots who were,
like the Queen of Sheba, suffused by the dark 'mysticisms of [their] desert
kingdoms'. The program booklet proclaimed the 'magnificence of the gatherings, the regal pomp of the ceremonies, the brilliant settings, the vast procession of horses, camels, and people, the wonderful festivals' that awaited
circus goers. The show required a 'cast of 1,250 characters, 600 horses,
300 dancing girls, grand opera chorus and [a] trainload of special scenery,
costumes, properties and stage effects' costing about 1 million dollars annually (Ringling Brothers 1914: 16B and 31).
The extravagant production consisted of five scenes, all performed in
pantomime. Actions 1 and 2 dramatized Solomon's judgment between two
women, each claiming to be the mother of a single child (1 Kgs 3). Actions
3-5 reenacted the visit by the Queen of Sheba to Solomon's court (1 Kgs
10; 2 Chron. 9). The printed libretto and commentary helped patrons understand the action while assuring them that the spectacle gave 'the closest
possible attention to historic [biblical] accuracy' (Ringling Brothers 1914:
16B). Nevertheless, producers admitted, they had allowed some slight
alterations of the biblical accounts, but only where necessary for dramatic
effect.
Spectacular effect, of course, was the point, even before the show began.
The mannerist painting reproduced in full color on the cover of the program booklet suggested the wondrous exhibition awaiting show goers who
ventured inside the tent (Fig. 3). The Queen of Sheba (the libretto gives
her the name Balkis) stands before King Solomon in the immense 'Great
Judgement Hall', surrounded by symbols of extravagant wealth. Both a
peer and subservient petitioner, the Queen approaches King Solomon with
dignified deference, surrounded by gift bearers and servants, gesturing as
she speaks, but occupying a somewhat lower and socially diminished space
before the king.
As the show proceeded, the libretto reinforced what the action would
have made clear, that neither the Queen's fabulous riches nor the hard questions with which she meant to test Solomon's sagacity could overcome the
king's natural (and male?) superiority. Portrayed to the audience as godly
and benevolent (there are no royal misdeeds in this theatrical Bible/bible)
and 'possessed of Wisdom, Riches and Honor beyond all compare' (Ringling Brothers 1914: 12), Solomon simply overwhelms the Queen in this
competition of wit and wealth. He cleverly answers 'the most difficult questions of the age' and gives Balkis a necklace 'made up of stones a hundred
314
times more costly than all the Queen's gifts combined'. Not content with
this victory, Solomon summons an enormous display of pomp and ceremony, which ends with a frenzied dance. The librettist wrote of a 'vast,
swirling bejeweled throng of fairy-like dancing girls' (Ringling Brothers
1914: 16D). However, an artist imagined titillating ranks of chorus lines,
each dancer kicking and strutting in her jewels and off-the-shoulder gowns,
swirling her gossamer veils and showing lots of leg.
Show goers were to take these celebrations as 'final proof of the enormity of [Solomon's] wealth and the multiplicity of his genius' (Ringling
Brothers 1914: 16D). Might they have associated this proof with the Ringling Brothers as well? As the biblical pageant lionized Solomon, so the
'authentic biography' of the circus kings trumpeted the immigrant brothers. As the spectacle lavishly displayed Solomon's wealth and genius, so
the biography of the Ringling brothers exhibited individual acumen,
entrepreneurial ambition and profuse affluence. If Solomon were to be
admired, how much more so the brothers and their capitalist success?
Similarly the reenactment of Solomon's judgment between two women,
each of whom claimed a child as her own (1 Kgs 3), made a show of
extravagant wealth and shrewd intelligence. These scenes, which preceded
the Queen's arrival at court, glorified Solomon and the power of his genius.
They also reaffirmed Victorian notions of true womanhood (Smith-Rosenberg 1985; Melendy 1903). The librettist pointedly made one of the petitioners the perfection of selfless motherhood, and the other a paragon of
heartless impiety. Complicating this moralistic construct were the dancers
of Solomon's court who in both segments of the spectacle seemed rather
less images of domesticity (the true woman) than socially acceptable
specters of heterosexual male, beyond-the-home desire.
As the drama develops, each woman claims that the living child held by
the 'captain of the [royal] guard' is hers. The librettist built dramatic
tension, as if the story were new to each member of the audience. How
will the king determine the real mother? 'Here is a problem which must
surely be beyond even the Wisdom of Solomon.' Yet no one could have
mistaken the imposter for the rightful mother, for one of the women is said
to be 'filled with humility and bent with grief, and the other 'silent and
impudent of mein'. Moments later, when Solomon issues his order to
divide the baby with the sword, the librettist explained that the 'true
mother utters a piercing cry, calling out in her anguish'. The other woman
remains 'unmoved by the terrible judgment' (Ringling Brothers 1914:14).
Translating these characterizations into bodily postures, an illustrator
315
Figure 4. Dancers perform before Solomon. Ringling Brothers' World's Greatest

Shows, Program Booklet, p. 14.
Figure 5. Solomon's Judgment. Ringling Brothers' World's Greatest Shows,

Program Booklet, p. 16.
316
portrayed one woman on her knees, arms outstretched toward Solomon (or
perhaps God in heaven) in pleading anguish. The other stands nearby, her
chin lifted in defiance, eyes fixed on some distant inspiration for her
resolve, her arms crossed in adamant indifference.
Of course, true motherhood and the rightful mother were obvious for all
to see. Palace guards lead the imposter away. Perhaps she is to be punished as much for her deception as for her betrayal of the character traits
and social roles prescribed for her sex. To 'break tension' and to celebrate
the triumph, explained the librettist, the assembled crowd shouted its approval while 'court entertainers advanced toward the throne [to] engage in
a series of marches and graceful poses' (Ringling Brothers 1914: 14).
Retrospective
Like the Buckeye Bible/bible, the Ringling Brothers' pageant was an
ephemeral moment of what Exum and Moore called unceasing 'mutual
redefinition'. Spectacle defined the written Bible, even as the latter took
form and life in performance. In this sense, both the advertising card and
the circus program booklet are material vestiges of interactive social realities. While affirming and promoting specific cultural values, both artifacts
imply rhetoric and action, the holy persuasions and lived responses that
would have created Bible/bibles and enlivened narratives of American
identity.
Reinventing an older Puritan discourse of prophecy, the 1888 Buckeye
Bible/bible aligned the language of Canaan with an industrialized America
that was secure in its manifest destiny to rule a continent and inhabit a
promised land of capitalist production, democratic electioneering, and uncharted expansionism. A generation later, the Ringling Brothers' Bible/bible
blessed such a lordly people, the models of capitalist achievement and
inspiration, even as it appealed to its middle-class family audience and
affirmed the permitted range of sexual fantasy: virtuous mother-wives and
music hall dancers.
These Bible/bibles added their voices to the enduring notions of American identity. The mythic themes were quite undisturbed by tensions around
race, rising anti-immigrant feeling, labor troubles and the increasingly
active progressive movements of the time. Upright, patriotic and hardworking folkat least those included in the narrative of innocencecould
imagine themselves attaining the life of kings in a land where there are
only presidents. Or they might take up projects of an expansionist spirit
317
buying or making hay binders, for examplein ever recurring Canaans.

Either way, a person could become what cultural myths always authorize:
the true, the essential, the eternal.
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1994
American Orientalists (Paris: ACR).
Adam, A.K.M. (ed.)
2000
Handbook of Postmodern Biblical Interpretation (St Louis, MO: Chalice
Press).
Adams, Bluford
1997
E Pluribus Barnum: The Great Showman and Popular Culture (Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota).
Aichele, George
2000
Culture, Entertainment and the Bible (JSOTSup, 309; Sheffield: Sheffield
Academic Press).
Aichele, George, and Tina Pippin (eds.)
1997
The Monstrous and the Unspeakable: The Bible as Fantastic Literature
(Playing the Texts, 1; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press).
Allen, Robert C.
1991
Horrible Prettiness: Burlesque and American Culture (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press).
Barton, George
1904
A Year's Wandering in Bible Lands (Philadelphia: Ferris & Leach).
Bercovitch, Sacvan
1975
The Puritan Origins of the American Self (New Haven: Yale University
Press).
1978
The American Jeremiad (Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press).
1983
'The Biblical Basis of the American Myth', in Giles Gunn (ed.), The Bible
and American Arts and Letters (Philadelphia: Fortress Press; Chico, CA:
Scholars Press): 219-29.
Boer, Roland
1999
Knockin' on Heaven's Door: The Bible and Popular Culture (London: Routledge).
Culhane, John
1990
The American Circus: An Illustrated History (New York: Henry Holt).
Davis, Lottie, and Moshe Davis
1954
Land of our Fathers: Guide to Map of Biblical Names in America (New
York: Associated American Artists).
Davis, Moshe
1995
'Biblical Place Names in America', in idem, With Eyes toward Zion. IV.
America and the Holy Land (Westport, CT: Praeger): 135-46.
DeHass, Frank S.
1882
Buried Cities Recovered, or, Explorations in Bible Lands (Philadelphia: J. W.
Bradley, 5th edn).
318
Dwight, Timothy
1785
The Conquest of Canaan: A Poem in Eleven Books (Hartford, CT: E. Babcock).
Exum, J. Cheryl, and Stephen D. Moore (eds.)
1998
Biblical Studies/Cultural Studies: The Third Sheffield Colloquium (JSOTSup,
266; GCT, 7; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press).
Faragher, John Mack
1992
Daniel Boone: The Life and Legend of an American Pioneer (New York:
Holt).
Filson, John
2001
The Discovery, Settlement and Present State ofKentucke with an appendix
'The Adventures of Col. Daniel Boon' (Fairfield, WA: Ye Galleon Press
[1784]).
Harby, Clifton
1936
The Bible in Art: Twenty Centuries of Famous Bible Paintings (New York:
Covici Friede).
Hurlbut, Jesse Lyman, and Charles Foster Kent
1914
Palestine through the Stereoscope (New York: Underwood and Underwood).
Kleitz, Dorsey R.
1988
'Orientalism and the American Romantic Imagination' (PhD dissertation,
University of New Hampshire).
Landow, George P.
1980
Victorian Types, Victorian Shadows: Biblical Typology in Victorian Literature, Art, and Thought (Boston: Routledge & Kegan Paul).
1992
'Pisgah Sight', in David L. Jeffrey (ed.), A Dictionary of Biblical Tradition
in English Literature (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans): 616-17.
Levine, Samuel
1977
'Palestine in the Literature of the United States to 1867', in Isidore S. Meyer
(ed.), Early History of Zionism in America (New York: Arno Press [1958]):
21-38.
Long, Burke O.
2000
'Scholarship', in Adam 2000: 227-32.
Mason, Lowance, Jr
1969
'Typology and the New England Way: Cotton Mather and the Exegesis of
Biblical Types', Early American Literature 4.1:15-37.
McConachie, Bruce A.
1992
Melodramatic Formations: American Theater and Society, 1820-1870 (Iowa
City: University of Iowa Press).
Melendy, Mary R.
1903
Perfect Womanhood for Maidens-Wives-Mothers: A Book Giving Full Information on all the Mysterious and Complex Matters Pertaining to Women
(Chicago: Monarch).
Mitchell, Susan
1984
'Boone', in Jack Meyer and Roger Weingarten (eds.), New American Poets
of the 80s (Green Harbor, MA: Wampeter Press): 222-23.
Moore, Stephen D.
1996
God's Gym: Divine Male Bodies of the Bible (London and New York: Routledge).
319
Moore, Stephen D. (ed.)

1998
In Search of the Present: The Bible through Cultural Studies (Semeia, 82;
Morrison, Michael A.
2001
'Manifest Destiny', in Paul Finkelman (ed.), Encyclopedia of the United
States in the Nineteenth Century (3 vols.; New York: Charles Scribner's
Sons): II, 248-52.
Nebenzahl, Kenneth
1986
Maps of the Holy Land: Images o/Terra Sancta through Two Millennia (New
York: Abbeville Press).
Noll, Mark A.
1982
'The Image of the United States as a Biblical Nation, 1776-1865', in Nathan
O. Hatch and Mark A. Noll (eds.), The Bible in America: Essays in Cultural
History (New York: Oxford University Press): 39-58.
Norton, Frank
1883
The Days of Daniel Boone: A Romance of 'the dark and bloody ground'(New
York: American News Company).
Piccirillo, Michele
1992
'Nebo, Mount', ABD, IV, 1056-58.
Ringling Brothers
1914
How to See and Enjoy Ringling Bros. World's Greatest Shows (Buffalo, NY:
The Courier Co.).
Robinson, Edward, and Eli Smith
1868
Biblical Researches in Palestine and in the Adjacent Regions: A Journal of
Travels in the Year 1838 (2 vols.; Boston: Crocker and Brewster, 3rd edn).
Said, Edward
1978
Orientalism (New York: Vintage).
Smith-Rosenberg, Carroll
1985
Disorderly Conduct: Visions of Gender in Victorian America (New York:
Alfred A. Knopf).
Strother, David Hunter
1857
Virginia Illustrated, Containing a Visit to the Virginian Canaan and the
Adventures of Porte Crayon and His Cousins (New York: Harper and Bros.).
Sweeney, J. Gray
1992
The Columbus of the Woods: Daniel Boone and the Typology of Manifest
Destiny. An Exhibition Commemorating the Colombian Quincentenary (St
Louis, MO: Washington University Gallery of Art).
Weeks, David C.
1993
Ringling: The Florida Years, 1911-1936 (Gainesville, FL: University of
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1935
Manifest Destiny: A Study ofNationalist Expansionism in A merican History
(Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press).
MAN AND WOMAN: TOWARD A THEOLOGICAL ANTHROPOLOGY

Patrick D. Miller
The opening chapters of Genesis have played a large part in the history of
Christian doctrine, particularly at the point of developing a theological
anthropology. That has been especially the case in regard to the matter of
the imago del and the 'fall' or the question of the origin and nature of sin. I
would suggest, however, that the larger anthropological matters in these
chapters have to do with the community of man and woman and the interface of humanity with the natural world, but more particularly with the
earth.1
The Community of Man and Woman
In the first of the creation stories (Gen. l.l-2.4a), the culmination of
God's creative acts is the forming of human beings. Very little is said in
that context about the human creature. Only two thingsthe human being
is made in the image of God and is male and female. The ramifications of
that are large for theological anthropology, for the doctrine of the human.
For it is precisely creation of humanity as man and woman and as woman
and man in community that is the climax of the story of God's creative
work. The story is not indifferent to humanity's being comprised of two
genders. It specifically sets that to the forefront, but without elaboration,
when it tells of the final creative act of God. Despite the fairly common
reading of the account as indicating a general notion of relationship or even
a concept of sociability, it is much more specific than that. Maleness and
femaleness, whatever that may consist ofand one notes the story does not
1. This essay represents a return to the subject matter of an earlier piece (Miller
1978) but with a more theological intent. That is, the essay may be understood as a
piece of theological exegesis or exegetical theology. Its presence in this volume is a
small expression of my esteem for its honoree as scholar, teacher and editor and, even
more, of my gratitude for his friendship through the years.
MILLER Man and Woman
321
seek to spell that out at allare not hidden or even secondary in the creative purpose. They are prominent. Furthermore, it is not the man by himself or the woman by herself. That is, it is not woman and man separate
or individually or as distinct but separate genders. It is women and men in
community to whom the divine blessing and the human task are given. Once
the declaration is made that it is as man and as woman that God has created human beings, then the story speaks of them only in the plural:
'Let them have dominion (male and female)...' And God blessed them
(man and woman) and God said to them (female and male): 'Be fruitful and
multiply and fill the earth and subdue it (man and woman together) and
have dominion (woman and man) over the fish of the sea, etc....' and God
said, 'Behold I have given you (male and female) every plant... you (man
and woman) shall have them for food'.
This community of woman and man is where the image of God is

represented according to the parallelism of the tricolon in Gen. 1.27. The
image is clearly a ruling function in this text as indicated first in v. 26. The
purpose of creating 'adam in the image of God is that the human creature
may rule the earth. That purpose is further indicated in the contextual fact
of the way that images of kings were set up in different places to represent
the rule of the king in those places. The image identifies who rules there.
God's rule of the creation is through the divine image bearer. But that divine
image bearer, and thus the ruler of creation, is man and woman together.
Not only is there no subordination of the woman in this account, but she is
specifically given a ruling task along with the man.2
In the divine blessing that follows immediately upon the creation of
human life as man and woman, three things are present: (1) One is procreation to bring about humanity on the earth, though this is probably to be
understood quite specifically in relation to the creation of nations and communities (see, e.g., Gen. 17.20 [Ishmael and the Arabs]; 35.11; 47.27; Exod.
1.7 [Jacob and the Israelites]).3 That is, the procreative dimension is also a
culture-creating activity as well as a biological one. (2) Another part of the
blessing is the provision of the fruit of the earth as food for its creatures.
The relation of woman and man as the human creatures is thus more complex. The biological dimension with its procreating possibilities for growth
2. On the character of this ruling activity, see Brueggemann 1969.
3. See in this regard the argument of Norbert Lohfink (1982:176-78) that the word
for 'subdue' in Gen 1.28 (kabas) may be seen in relation to the peoples' taking possession of their territories, as at the end of the Priestly literature in Josh. 18.1 with reference to Israel.
322
is clearly a facet of this relation and a significant dimension, but it is only

one. Man and woman are also joined together as a community of need who
live by divine providence. (3) Finallyand it would seem most important
because it is a part of the expressed divine intention prior to the act of creating man and woman (Gen. 1.26)is the divine assignment of the human
task: the ordering and care of the earth, which is what the image of God is
all about, belongs to the community of women and men. The story assumes
from the start that it is together and only together that the human responsibilities for filling the earth with peoples and ruling the earth and its creatures, that is, the tasks that belong to our very being as God's creatures,
can be carried out. The human story starts that way and cannot be read or
lived as if this beginning is not true in the deepest sense. It is out of this
creative intention of God that all the proper notions of cooperation, mutuality and complementarity between men and women flow forth.
Underscoring the above analysis of the text is the fact that the focus
upon woman and man in relation to each other and to God is continued
immediately in the next episode of the story, Genesis 2 and 3. Here the
narrative form makes man and woman the primal couple. There are some
features of that story that are quite important for thinking about the community of men and women.
1. The divine reflection, 'It is not good that the creature should be alone'
(Gen. 2.18), lifts up the relationship between man and woman as God's
intention in the creation. Human loneliness and isolation are not a part of
God's plan, and the primary form of companionship and relationship in
the creation is that of woman and man. Furthermore the relationship and
companionship between woman and man is distinctive and fulfilling in a
way that is not the case between woman/man and other parts of the created
order. Genesis 2 tells of the creation of the animals as an outcome of the
divine judgment that it is not good for ha 'adam to be alone, but that outcome is insufficient for the fundamental companionship that belongs to
human existence. Nor does the Yahwistic story identify the creation of
woman as for the purpose of procreation. Companionship and sexual union
(2.24) are what the story focuses on in its account of the creation of the
woman to join the man. Procreation, which is part of the blessing of God
upon the man and woman in Genesis 1, comes into the Yahwistic story but
is not at the center of the divine intentionality.
2. The mutuality and complementarity of male and female is accented in
the clear indication that woman and man need each other ('a helper as his
partner', Gen. 2.18). Coming together in community, whether in the intimacy of a loving relationship or in other more extended ways is not redu-
323
cible to biological urges and marriage, though that is certainly part of being
man and woman and the Bible affirms both. Nor is it due to the accidents
of proximity, but because we find we need each other and our wholeness is
in some sense achieved in the relation of women and men. As many have
noted, the expression 'a helper as his partner' does not imply subordination, for in the Old Testament the term 'helper', often applied to God, refers
to the person in superior position, able because of greater strength, and the
like, to 'help' the other person. The expression kenegdo, 'corresponding to
it', indicates precisely what it means: a correspondence or shared identity,
mutuality and equality (Trible 1978: 90).
3. The expression 'bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh' (Gen. 2.23) is
a covenantal formula suggesting solidarity in weakness and strength, as
Brueggemann (1970) has demonstrated in a careful study of this formula in
the Old Testament.4 While it is commonly taken that the 'help' is either a
serving responsibility, which is not the case, or simply a generalized assistance, it is reasonable to presume with Brueggemann that the 'help' provided by the woman for the man is in the assignment that has been given
to the man, that is, to work and watch over the garden. The solidarity and
mutuality implicit in the covenantal formula have to do with solidarity in
the human task, the care of the garden (and later the ground, Gen. 3.23), a
shared responsibility comparable to that articulated in the Priestly account
in Genesis 1.5
4. While the story in Genesis 2-3 shows reflexes of the patriarchal
context in which it took shape, for example, 'the man and his wife', in
various ways the story shows at one time the man and at another time the
woman as the attracting center or the initiator of action:
malewoman made out of the rib from man
femaleman leaves his place and security to cleave to his wife
femalewoman initiates the conversation with the snake and eating the
fruit
maleone of the results of the sin and judgment is man's rule over his
wife.
4. 'The key phrase about the relationship in 2.23a is a covenantal formula which
does not speak about derivation in a biological sense but means to speak about commonality of concern, loyalty, and responsibility.' Brueggemann's analysis is consistent
with the above discussion in that he argues that the three main dimensions of this part
of the story are the need for a mate, the affirmation of finding a partner and the implication of this new partnership.
5. On the way in which the taking of the woman from the rib of ha 'adorn indicates
324
5. The judgment 'to your husband shall be your desire, but he shall rule
over you (the woman)' has caused much trouble for women and ultimately
has had devastating effects on the community of men and women. A
couple of things need to be said about that.
(a) This is not divine creative intention but the outcome of human sin
and divine judgment.
(b) In most cases, the human community seeks to overcome the results
of its sinful actions. That is no less the case here. This rule of man over
woman and husband over wife is bracketed by two other statements of
sinful results: the painful toil and labor of child-bearing and the painful
toil and labor of earning a living. In both of these other cases, the human
community has done all it can to overcome these negative dimensions of
the human condition. And indeed the whole biblical story is oriented toward
an overcoming of that final result of human sinfulnessdeath. The corollary of that history is that male dominance and female submission are to be
struggled against as vigorously as human beings struggle to make human
work less toilsome and child-bearing safer and less painful. In none of
these cases has the human race overcome the punishing outcome, but it
surely is going to keep trying.
(c) The Bible itself proffers a counter word about the nature of this
relationship in the Song of Songs. The expression 'your/its desire (fsuqa)
is for...' is an unusual one in the Bible, occurring only three times, twice
in this story with regard to the woman's desire for her husband that ends
up in male dominance and in Gen. 4.7 where the desire of sin is for Cain
but he is unable to rule over it or dominate it. The only other occurrence of
this idiom is in the description of the relationship between the two lovers
in Song of Songs. But there the 'desire' (fsuqa) is that of the male lover
for his beloved, the woman. This desire that carries with it no implication
of rule or dominance is then completed by the references to the mutual
desire of the woman and the man, though without the technical term that
appears in Genesis 3-4 (2.16; 6.3). As Ellen Davis has noted, this is an
intentional echo and reversal of 'the sad ending of the idyll in Eden. No
longer, the poem declares, are desire and power unequally distributed
between woman and man' (Davis 2001: 72).6
both continuity and discontinuity but no more subordination of the former to the latter
than is implied in the 'taking' ofha'ddam from the ground, see Trible 1978: 94-102.
6. Davis comments with regard to the author's frequent allusion to other biblical
texts and phrases: 'It is her (?) habit to take old words from the religious tradition and
set them in new contexts, where they acquire fresh associations. She is consciously
325
6. Finally, the story describes a primal breach in the relationship of

human and God, and there, too, woman and man are together. It is not so
much a question of who acted first, or who is the active, inquiring, aggressive onesurely the woman in this primal storyor who is the passive,
acquiescing onesurely the man. It is rather that man and woman are in
this from start to finish together. They are both prohibited from eating the
fruit; they both eat the fruit and thus disobey. Together they see their nakedness and together they try to do something about their new plight. They
both pass the buck when confronted by God. With both man and woman,
God deals mercifully in providing clothes to cover nakedness.
The story of the garden as a story of the beginning of the human race
makes clear that our life and death are with each other, as woman and man
in relationship. It does not ascribe certain characteristics to man or woman.
It does not place one or the other totally controlling the relationship. It does
not see one as more sinful or more punished than the other. We are in this
as woman and man together, and together we live, together we blow it,
together we work to overcome the effects, together we are treated mercifully.
Human Beings and the Earth
The image of God is a particular dimension of this matter, but as most
interpreters of these texts have recognized, the divine image has less to do
with some inherent nature of human being and more with the role of the
human being vis-a-vis the natural world. That is, the image is a representative one more than it is an indicator of some innate aspect of human life.
In the Mesopotamian context, the king was the image of the god and so
represented the deity's rule in the particular place where the king ruled. In
the biblical literature, that representative rule has been democratized and
universalized. The image points to the responsibility for dominion over the
earth and its fullness. Thus the imago Dei is clearly not a nature but a role,
not a characteristic but a responsibility (cf. Psalm 8), the rule of the earth
and its creatures.
rereading the tradition, at the same time creating a continuation and a turning point in
that tradition. She is witnessing to the new possibility that she sees God creating with
this man and this woman' (72). See also Trible's discussion of the interplay of the
Song and Genesis 2-3 (Trible 1978: 144-65) and specifically her comment with regard
to the repetition of this phrase: 'Another consequence of disobedience is thus redeemed
through the recovery of mutuality in the garden of eroticism' (160).
326
That such a rule of the earth is complex and not simple and assumes all
kinds of interdependencies between the human creatures and the earth is
demonstrated by the degree to which the history of humanity in its
primeval story is an interpretation of humanity's relationship to the earth
and the soil, a point scored by both parts of the creation story, the Priestly
and the Yahwist.7 In Genesis 1 the relationship is articulated in relation to
'the earth' (ha'ares). All three parts of the divine assignment/blessing
have to do with the relation of the man and woman community to 'the
earth'. They together have the responsibility for 'filling it' and for 'ruling
it'. But the earth also is the source of sustenance for both the human
beingsand it is clear that one really cannot talk about anthropology in
terms of 'man' but only in terms of man and woman and so must speak of
human beings and not only of human beingand the animate creatures of
the earth. At this point, things are more complex in that such providence,
effected by God's good creation in behalf of the sustenance of man and
woman, is shared with the other sensate creatures. There is a complicated
interdependency that is evidenced in the ruling responsibility of the man
and woman and the provision that is shared by man and woman and the
different animal creatures of the earth.8 One may presume that at least a
dimension of the ruling responsibility is a caring for and ordering of the
earth, that is, the man and woman's responsibility to see that this shared
interface with 'the earth' and its produce is possible and works. But there
is a tension here. The provision of sustenance is a differentiated gift to all
the sensate beings that God has made and not a part of a hierarchical order.
What the man and woman do in their rule of the animal world does not
involve appropriation of or control over the provision that God has 'given'
to the animal world. The Lord says, in effect: 'See, I give you this and the
animals that' (Gen. 1.29-31).
The interdependency of the creation and the human creature, implicitly
understood as man and woman, is echoed in Psalm 104, though without
the notions of dominion or rule that are explicit in Genesis 1 and without
the differentiated understanding of the human as man and woman. The
sense of the shared creation and the provision for life as a part of the creative work of God is developed in an even more elaborated way there as
the poem speaks of providing place for all the animals (e.g. w. 16-18), time
for animals and humans to do their work of finding food (e.g. vv. 19-23)
7. Thus the 'yes, but' playing off of the Priestly and Yahwist creation accounts is
unnecessary, as Michael Welker has vigorously argued on other grounds (1999:61-64).
8. See in this regard the discussion of Welker 1999: 70-73.
327
and a differentiated provision of food for the animal world and for the
human world (though these are not formulated in the same way in Genesis
1 and the Psalm). The responsibility of the human creature for caring for
the earth, ordering it and making it work is implicit in the way that the
human provision is described in Psalm 104. For while the provision for the
animals is grass and herbage (and, of course, water), the human provision
is not grain and grapes and olive trees but bread and wine and oil, products
of culture, of human activity.
In the Yahwist's account in Genesis 2-4, the complicated interdependency and interaction of the human creature with the earth is developed in
a different and more narrative fashion. This point is obvious in the wordplay between 'adam and >adamd, 'human being' and 'ground'. But it goes
much further than that. The account of creation, of life under God and rebellion against God, of creaturely existence, of sin and judgment, of human
vocation and community is a story of the intricate relationship between
'adam and >adamd. The pre-creation state is when there is no 'adam to till
the >adamd. 'adam is taken or created from the >adamd and in death returns
to the >adamd. 'adam's vocation is to work the >adamd even when sent
from the garden. From the >adamd comes the sustenance of human life.
When 'adam sins, the earth is also affected; the consequences involve the
natural order, the ground, and humanity's involvement. And the relief that
is given to human existence under the judgment of toilsome labor is given
by an 'is ha 'adamd, a man of the soil, Noah, who by his name is seen to be
the one who provides relief from the work: 'Out of the ground (ha 'adamd)
which the Lord has cursed this one shall bring us relief from our work and
from the painful toil of our hands' (5.29).
The evidence for this complex interdependency is even more substantial
than the above summary indicates. This is sufficient, however, to suggest
that in multiple ways human existence exercises its dominion over the
natural world at the same time that it is related to that world in origination,
vocation and destiny. Hierarchical relationship is a facet but not the whole.9
9. The play on >adamd and 'adam forces the discussion around the one designated
'adam, but the way in which that term moves back and forth from its reference to the
male to its reference to the human being as both male and female (particularly in the
expression ben 'adam) and the covenantal, helping relationship between the woman
and the man indicate that the term resists a simple designation with reference to the
male. That is further confirmed by the different ways in which the connections clearly
involve both the man and the woman even when the story distinguishes between them
(taken out of the >adamd and returning to the >adamd, sent from the '"damd to work the
328
Insofar as Christian anthropology attends to and takes its cues from Genesis 1-11, a rich source, it requires at its center an understanding of the
human as oriented around both the differentiation of man and woman as
well as the complex but highly productive and dangerous interdependencies
of men and women and the interdependencieshierarchical, providential
and otherwiseof man and woman with the earth/ground and with the
creatures who also inhabit it.
Bibliography
Brueggemann, Walter
1969
'King in the Kingdom of Things', Christian Century 86: 1165-66.
1970
'Of the Same Flesh and Bone [Gn 2, 23a]', CBQ 32: 532-42.
Davis, Ellen
2001
Getting Involved with God: Rediscovering the Old Testament (Cambridge:
Cowley Publications).
Lohfink, Norbert
1982
'Growth: The Priestly Document and the Limits of Growth', in Great Themes
from the Old Testament (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark): 167-82.
Miller, Patrick D.
1978
Genesis 1-11: Studies in Structure and Theme (JSOTSup, 8; Sheffield: JSOT
Press).
Trible, Phyllis
1978
God and the Rhetoric of Sexuality (OBT; Philadelphia: Fortress Press).
Welker, Michael
1999
Creation and Reality (Minneapolis: Fortress Press).
'"darna). The role distinctions arise in the breakdown of the human enterprise and the
judgments that are placed on man and woman. They are not placed as central to the
relationship as God created man and woman. For more detailed elaboration of the
interplay of >adamd and 'adam, see Miller 1978: 37-42.
THE REBEL IN BIBLE LANDS*

Johannes C. de Moor
1. Introduction
All innovation starts as rebellion. A politician advocates radical change
and succeeds in convincing the electorate that a new type of society should
be founded. A heretic challenges the authority of the Pope and succeeds in
founding a new church that appeals to the masses. A scientist dissatisfied
with current theory develops a rival new model which eventually wins her
a Nobel prize. A daughter modernizes her father's factory as soon as she
becomes the managing director. A minority realizes that the ruling party is
oppressing the nation and starts a successful revolution.
Initially such challenging acts meet with disbelief, mockery, indignation,
or even merciless repression. The perpetrators are depicted as rebels who
are endangering the very framework of the existing order. Yet their efforts
and sacrifices are the motor of progress in history. This paper will try to
demonstrate that this has been the case from the earliest recorded times on.
It is meant as a small tribute to a great rebel in the field of biblical scholarship, an inspiring innovator who has thoroughly transformed our methods
and premises: David Clines.
2. Rebellion in the Family
The break-down of family ties was seen as the ultimate, almost apocalyptic
disaster that could befall a society. From this perspective a rebellion threatening the harmonious life of a family was seen as utterly undesirable (see
e.g. Barta 1975-76: 57; van der Toorn 1985: 14-15, 60; Lambert 1989;
Fechter 1998: 287-305). If it occurred nevertheless, there was a clear tendency to hush up the unfortunate incident. Disruption of family ties was
Thanks are due to Mrs J. Paans-Spoelstra who participated in the research for
parts of this paper.
330
tantamount to godlessness, as is indicated in the following speech of the

evil god Erra in the Babylonian epic bearing his name:
I shall so change men's hearts that father will not listen to son
(And) daughter will talk to mother with hatred.
I shall cause them to speak ill and they will forget their god
(And) speak gross blasphemy to their goddess (Cagni 1974: 42,11. 9-12).
A similar description which was destined to inspire many an apocalyptist1 is found in Mic. 7.5-6:
Put no trust in a neighbour, have no confidence in a friend; guard the doors
of your mouth from her who lies in your bosom; for the son treats the father
with contempt, the daughter rises up against her mother, the daughter-in-law
against her mother-in-law; a man's enemies are the men of his own house.
a. Wife against Husband

In the patriarchal societies of the ancient Near East, a wife was supposed
to obey her husband unquestioningly. Yet quarrels between couples will
have been common enough. In the Hebrew book of Proverbs it is
invariably the woman who is accused of having caused trouble, never the
man (Prov. 21.9, 19; 25.24; 27.15). Whether or not such strife may have
ended in tender reconciliation2 depended not so much on his willingness to
forgive her as on his position in society. If he was a king, for example, a
quarrel with the queen who had her own court and a certain amount of
power might endanger his position. In Egypt several conspiracies against
the ruling Pharaoh appear to have started in his harem (Desroches Noblecourt 1986: 113-25; Redford 2002). According to the Ugaritic text KTU
1.14.1.14 the first wife of King Kirtu of Khuburu rose against him.3 Because
all his other wives died,4 it must be assumed that this first wife was
1. Cf. Reicke 1967: 359-60; Grelot 1986. Cf. Isa. 3.4-5; Jer. 12.6; Ezek. 22.7; Pss.
38.12; 41.10; 69.9; Job 19.13-19; G/U/wc. Ezra 3.12-13; 11QT 54.19-21; Mt. 10.3436; Lk. 12.51-53.
2. Cf. the Middle Babylonian version of the Myth of Nergal and Ereshkigal, 75-85
(Foster 1996: 416).
3. The verb is tb' which normally means 'to rise, to leave', but here probably 'to
rebel' (cf. AHw, s.v. tebii(m) G 3.i). It is unlikely that this implies that she left her
husband of her own accord, as some would have it, because that was allowed only if
the husband had misbehaved badly, which would have made Kirtu guilty and therefore
deserving the loss of his wife. This would run counter to the thrust of the story, which
makes Kirtu a righteous sufferer.
4. A new reading based on a collation by J. Tropper (1995-96:269) now supports
this interpretation.
DEMOOR The Rebel in Bible Lands
331
executed because of her temerity. A unique and tragic dossier from Ugarit
confirms that a queen who behaved too independently and was suspected
of licentious behaviour with friends and servants could be executed with
the consent of all male parties concerned and without trial, even though
initially her husband was inclined to forgive her.5 In none of the documents dealing with this case is the queen ever mentioned by name, so
offensive did the men in power deem her behaviour, which is termed 'a
great sin' (Moran 1959).
b. Children against Parents
In the authoritarian societies of the ancient world, which valued societal
continuity above everything else, open rebellion against parents was
almost unthinkable (Reinhold 2002: 3-6). Severe punishment awaited disobedient children. Corporal punishment was only the least. Rebellious children could be driven away from home, could be disowned, could be cursed
with a death-curse, and in very serious cases might even be executed. It
should be remembered that young adults fell under the category of 'children' in antiquity and that therefore the obligation of the stronger young to
take care of the elderly was the main concern of those who demanded
absolute obedience from the younger generation.6
Yet eagerness to assume power sometimes lured young men into
rebellion against their fathers. A letter in the Mari archive suggests that a
certain Sumu-Yamam murdered his father Yahdun-Lim but was himself
murdered soon after by his own servants (Durand 1998: 409; but see also
Grayson 1972: 27-28; Malamat 1998: 159). A similar drama occurred in
Emar (Fales 1991: 84-86). Cases of princes murdering their father in the
hope of succeeding him abound, one of the best-known being the slaying
of Sennacherib (van der Kooij 2000: 113, 118, with earlier literature). A
well-known example from Ugarit is the rebellion of crown-prince Yassubu
against his ailing father Kirtu:
Yassubu also returned to the palace.
And his soul instructed him:
'Go to your father, Yassubu,
go to your father and speak,
5. A fresh interpretation of these texts has been proposed by Marsman 2003:
663-71.
6. For all this, see e.g. Conrad 1970; Albertz 1978: 372; Loretz 1979; van der
Toorn 1985: 13-15; Schottroff 1992; Otto 1994: 32-35; Feucht 1995: 184-93; Janssen
and Janssen 1996; Stol and Vleeming 1998; Houtman 2000: 50-58.
332

repeat to the gr[acious lad of Ilu]:
"Listen and let [your ear] be attentive!
The most munificent you drive away,
But the usurer you allow to stay!7
You have let your hand fall down in slackness:
You do not judge the case of the widow,
You do not try the case of the impatiently waiting.
Ah! You are a brother of the bed of sickness,
You are a companion of the bed of illness.
Abdicate the kingship, let me be king!
(Abdicate your) dominion, let me sit (on the throne)!"'
(de Moor 1987: 221-22).
Kirtu refuses indignantly and curses his eldest son for his impudence:
'O son, Horonu8 break
Horonu break your head,
(and) 'Athtartu, consort of Ba'lu, your skull!
May you fall down at the height of your years,
In the prime of your strength, and yet be humbled!'
(de Moor 1987: 222-23).
The circumstance that a father could invoke divine help to execute his
son for such a rebellious deed indicates that obedience towards parents
was a religious duty. It has often been stated that the death penally that
Deut. 21.18-21 requires for a rebellious son is without parallel in the
ancient Near Eastin other cultures less drastic punishment was the rule
(e.g. Bellefontaine 1979; Marcus 1981; Dion 1993; Otto 1994: 35; Tigay
1996: 196). But it is always hazardous to argue from silence. In any case
the Ugaritic example seems to suggest that the actual decision to kill a
rebellious son was left to the deity, as is the case with Eli's sons in 1 Sam.
2.25 and with Absalom (cf. 2 Sam. 17.14). It may have been the intention
of Deut. 21.18-21 to leave the decision to the judges who were supposed
to act as representatives of the deity (cf. Gamper 1966). Just as the people
invoke YHWH to prevent Saul from killing his disobedient son Jonathan (1
Sam. 14.29-30,45), so it may be assumed that the judges took into account
mitigating circumstances.
Whereas corrective beating of children and even cursing children was a
right of parents, the reverse was not tolerated. In Israel, for example, it was
stated, 'Whoever strikes his father or his mother shall be put to death'
7.
8.
Cf. de Moor 1973: 9\-92,pace Renfroe 1992: 37-41, 68-69.

God of black magic, master of demons.
333
(Exod. 21.15), and 'Whoever curses his father or his mother shall be put to
death' (Exod. 21.17; cf. Lev. 20.9). But here again it may be assumed that
in many cases parents forgave their children, which may have moved the
judges, often the 'elders' belonging to the same generation as the parents,
to dismiss the complaint. In Babylonia incantations could achieve a release
from cursing a parent (Reiner 1958: 26).
It therefore comes as a surprise that in the standard version of the Epic
ofGilgamesh (Vl.iii) a daughter, the goddess Ishtar, threatens her father
Anu if he does not give her the Bull of Heaven to punish Gilgamesh who
had scorned her invitation to make love with her. Similarly, the Ugaritic
goddess ' Anatu repeatedly threatens to smash in the skull of her old father
Ilu if he does not give in to her whims (KTU 1.3.V.23-25; 1.18.1.6-14; de
Moor 1987: 17,241). On another occasion both she and her sister misbehave badly at a party thrown by their father Ilu (KTU 1.114; de Moor
1987: 135-36). Such behaviour is so extraordinary in ancient society that
there must have been a special reason why the author of these Ugaritic
literary works, the scribe Ilimilku, introduced the theme of the rebellious
daughters into his works. Possibly he wanted to prepare his audience for
the impendent demise of the old pair Ilu and Athiratu in favour of the
young Ba'lu and 'Anatu/'Athtartu (de Moor 1997: 41-102; Korpel 1998:
105-11).
A Hurrian-Hittite epic contains a parable about a bronze beaker that,
after it had been finished, cursed its maker. A few lines at the end of the
parable explain that the smith is a father and the beaker an irreverent son
whom the gods have cursed because of his lack of respect (Neu 1996: 81,
83, 165-66; cf. Isa. 45.9-10).
In Ugarit the duties of a son towards his father are clearly enumerated in
the Legend of Aqhatu. The son has to take care of the ancestral cult, has to
silence people uttering abuse against his father, has to support him when
he is drunk, has to serve him at sacrificial meals in the temples, has to
repair his father's roof and clean his equipment (Loretz 1979). The combination of cultic and other tasks would seem to indicate that filial duties
were seen as a religious obligation.
The fifth commandment of the Hebrew Decalogue unmistakably hints at
the possibility of premature death as a divine sanction in the case of filial
disobedience (Exod. 20.12; Deut. 5.16). Parents could set their children a
bad example by not living in accordance with the law of God themselves
(e.g. Pss. 78.8; 106.6; Jer. 2.5; 3.25; 11.20; 14.20; Ezek. 20.18). Both their
bad and good deeds influenced God's behaviour towards later generations
334
(Exod. 20.5-6; on these verses and related texts, cf. Houtman 2000: 2630). In other cultures of the ancient Near East the spirits of the deified
ancestors actively participated in gatherings of the tribe or family and
directly furthered (or endangered) their health and prosperity. The obligation to obey your parents did not stop when they had died. In Egypt the
living children had the obligation to provide for their parents not only
during their life but also long after they were dead. One of the most ardent
wishes was to be re-united as a family in the Nether World. In many graves
the owner piously declares that he has never given his parents occasion to
complain about his behaviour. This made disobedience of children towards
their parents almost a form of sacrilege in Egypt, even though an explicit
divine commandment to love your parents is attested only as late as the
Ptolemaic period (Feucht 1995: 135-43). In this way previous generations
could mete out retaliation for rebellion on the part of the living children.
The cult of the ancestors and the veneration of family gods was widely
spread throughout the ancient Near East (van der Toorn 1996).9 In the Old
Testament canon only vestiges of this ancestral cult remain (de Moor
1997:317-61).
3. Rebellion against a Ruler
The life of a king was always threatened. Even in his own palace plots
were frequently laid against him by rebelling parties and rivals. In this
respect a king could trust nobody, not even his own wives (2.a above),
children (2.b above) and personal servants. Because obviously the preparations for a coup were always shrouded in deep secrecy, kings sought
to find out about possible conspiracies by consulting oracles (Oppenheim
1965: 113-15; Reiner 1984: 66,241). Kingship being the gift of the deities,
it was only by divine intervention that a ruling monarch could be saved
from the machinations of rebels (Parpola 1997: 27). Prayers were sent up
and incantations recited to guarantee him this divine protection.
Shalmaneser I prays to his gods before crushing rebelling countries with
their help (Grayson 1972: 81, 83). His successor prays to subjugate the
Shubarites who had rebelled against Shalmaneser I (Grayson 1972: 103).
The myth of power dictated that the ruling king always enjoyed divine protection. Anyone opposing him was a sinner by definition (Oded 1992). Centuries later the Assyrian king Esarhaddon gives an elaborate description of
9.
Further bibliography: de Moor 1997: 320-21.
335
how he quelled the revolt of those, including his own brothers, who refused
to accept him as the legitimate successor of Sennacherib who had been
murdered by two other sons. Esarhaddon calls his brothers rebels because
they did not respect the decision of his father to appoint him, Esarhaddon,
as his sole heir and because they had relied on their own strength instead
of accepting the will of the great deities of Assyria (Borger 1956: 40-47).
A good king was a 'trampler/conqueror of the rebellious' (e.g. Grayson
1972: 87, 92, 106, 109). Their subduing is represented as an an act of
piety. Shalmaneser I throws the rebels 'at the feet of the goddess Ishtar, his
mistress' (Grayson 1972:93). Those who rebel against Tukulti-Ninurta are
hostile to the god Ashur (e.g. Grayson 1972:106,109,112,114). Insubmissive foes of Tiglath-Pileser I are crushed because they have withheld tribute
from the god Ashur (Grayson 1976: 7). It is Ashur who commands him to
pacify all the rebellious (Grayson 1976: 14). Sometimes a foreign ruler
might deflect the wrath of the Assyrian king by placing the responsibility
for the rebellion on others, like the king of Qumanu who handed over 300
families, 'rebels in his midst who were not submissive to the god Ashur'
(Grayson 1976: 15). Ashur-nasir-apli II is able to break up the forces of
the rebellious because he acts with the support of the great gods (Grayson
1976: 120). It would be easy to multiply examples.
Official propaganda is always one-sided. The virtues of the Assyrian
kings are extolled, their victories magnified, their losses minimized. What
the rebel side achieved is always obscured and therefore it is often difficult
to reconstruct the truth. It is only rarely that unofficial documents like
letters allow us a somewhat more reliable view into what really happened,
as in the case of the Nimrud letters about the insurrection of the Babylonian
Ukin-zer against the Assyrians (Saggs 1955).
The punishment the Assyrians imposed for rebellion was extremely
cruel. When the inhabitants of the city of Suru deposed the Assyrian governor and appointed Ahi-yababa, 'a son of a nobody', as their king, Ashurnasir-apli II retaliated by taking the city back 'with the support of the gods
Ashur and Adad' and setting a deterring example:
I erected a pile in front of his gate; I flayed as many nobles as had rebelled
against me (and) draped their skins over the pile; some I spread out within
the pile, some I erected on stakes upon the pile. I flayed many right through
my land (and) draped their skins over the walls. 1 slashed the flesh of the
eunuchs (and) of the royal eunuchs who were guilty. I brought Ahi-yababa
to Nineveh, flayed him, (and) draped his skin over the wall of Nineveh
(Grayson 1976: 123-24).
336
Most rebellions against the Assyrians took a similar terrible toll.Yet

sometimes it happened that a rebel succeeded in overthrowing the ruling
king and founded a dynasty of his ownalways a disturbing innovation in
antiquity. Assyrian inscriptions designate such men with the derogatory
epithet 'son of a nobody' (e.g. Grayson 1972:50). Yet their names are commemorated in king lists (e.g. Grayson 1972: 31), which points to a certain
degree of grudging recognition. In Ugarit the shades of successful usurpers
were raised during necromantic sessions next to the shades of legitimate
kings (de Moor 1987: 166, 272).
Weakness on the side of their overlord offered vassals an opportunity to
liberate their countries from the heavy tribute and punitive campaigns a
subject had to suffer. Hezekiah's rebellion against Assyria in 705-704 is
an example.10 A good time for a crown prince to try to shed the oppressive
yoke of a foreign ruler was the grave illness or death of his father who had
been forced to accept the status of a mere vassal (e.g. Grayson 1972: 60).
Deposing such a sickly father was seen as a brave move on the part of the
son, which made him very popular because the heavy tribute a vassal had
to pay pressed severely on the entire population of a country. This is the
main difference with Yassubu's attempt described earlierapparently there
had been only internal problems during Kirtu's illness, and not foreign
domination (see 2.b above).
Another example of a successful rebellion is the rise of David under
Saul. Whether or not Saul's mental illness gradually weakened the latter's
position cannot now be established, but it seems fairly certain that David
started his career as a pretender to Saul's throne with a band of dissatisfied
fugitives in Adullam (1 Sam. 22.2; cf. Mic. 1.15; 4.14), just like Idrimi of
Alalakh who invoked the help of the Hapiru, notorious scum (Smith 1949:
14-17). Also in such cases later propagandistic historiography obscured
the real course of events to emphasize the rebellion as the will of the deity.
David was anointed beforehand as God's elected king. Also Jeroboam's
rebellion against Solomon and Rehoboam (1 Kgs 11-12), Jehu's usurpation of Joram's throne (2 Kgs 9-10) and the coup against Athaliah (2 Kgs
11) are examples of insurrections against the ruler in power that were
presented as the will of God. Similarly, Idri-mi of Alalakh piously states
that he waited seven years for the sign of the weather-god Adad before he
made his decisive move from exile.
10. For various proposals see Gallagher 1999: 263-74.
337
Mesopotamian kings who had not been successful in repressing revolt

were remembered for thousands of years as sorry failures. Several legendary accounts of a great revolt against the Old Akkadian king Naramsin
relate how he had to confront numerous rebellious opponents and invoked
the help of the goddesses and gods who, however, did not come to his
help. Whereas the rebels are depicted as inhuman, bloodthirsty murderers,
Naramsin himself is a model of piety (Westenholz 1997: 221-61; Charpin
1997, both with earlier literature). Also in the so-called 'Cuthean Legend'
the opponents of Naramsin are dehumanized: they have 'bodies of cave
birds and ravens' faces', even though they are creatures of flesh and blood
(Westenholz 1997: 265,308-309,314-15). Yet this same legend teaches,
at least in the Old Babylonian version, that a king who becomes impatient
and takes control himself without awaiting a divine decision cannot hope
to succeed. Only much later Naramsin's opponents would be punished for
their savagery (Westenholz 1997: 316-31).
Of course there was a certain amount of xenophobia involved in all this.
Both in Israel and in the Umwelt all kinds of unruly and sinful behaviour
were ascribed to foreigners (Limet 1972; Kinnier Wilson 1979; de Moor
and Sanders 1991: 296-97; see also Jer. 9.26). The ancient Egyptians
regarded foreigners as barbarians and depicted them as poor nomads,
brigands, traitors, thieves, murderers, makers of noise, plotters of turmoil,
the demonic followers of Seth, god of confusion (te Velde 1967: 111-13;
Fischer-Elfert 1986; Loprieno 1988). These descriptions hardly differ from
those Sennacherib provides for rebellious Aramaeans, 'fugitives, runaways,
blood-stained murderers, criminals' (Luckenbill 1924:42). The stranger is
a potential rebel who might well modify generally accepted customs, endanger the habitual way of life and put an end to certain privileges (Limet
1972: 130).
Towards the end of the second millennium BCE the oppressive rule of
Egypt over its Canaanite colony had created large classes of impoverished
and dissatisfied people who felt compelled to fall back on robbery and
guerilla warfare (Stork 1984; Giveon 1971; de Moor 1997:64-71,277-81,
with bibliography). Among them were the Proto-Israelites who, like some
present-day bedouin, were proud to be rebels who did not recognize any
authority and openly boasted of robbing their overlords occasionally, even
if they traded with them and served them as mercenaries if that suited
them better (de Moor 1997: 2000). The merciless repression of the Shasu
'bedouin' is depicted vividly in the battle reliefs of Seti I (Epigraphic Survey 1986). One of the accompanying inscriptions runs:
338

One came to tell His Majesty. 'The Shasu enemies are plotting sedition.
Their tribal leaders are gathered in one place, standing on the foothills of
Khor [Canaan, de M], and they are engaged in turmoil and uproar; one of
them is (always) killing his fellow. They do not consider the laws of the
palace.' His majestymay he live, prosper and be healthy!was happy at
this. For, as for the Good God, he rejoices at engaging in battle, and he
enjoys a transgression against him. His head is satisfied with seeing blood
when he chops off the heads of disaffected persons. He loves a moment of
pounding more than a day of celebrating! His Majesty killed them all at
once, he did not leave heirs among them (Epigraphic Survey 1986: 20-21).
Apparently Egyptians and Assyrians were equally cruel towards rebels.

And also in Egypt the ideology dictated that in reality it was the god
himself who crushed the rebels for his elected ruler. In a Triumph Hymn
for Tuthmosis III the national deity Amun-Re promises the king,
I bind up the Nubian tribesfolk by ten-thousands (upon) thousands,
and the northerners by hundred-thousands, as prisoners.
I cause your opponents to fall beneath your sandals,
So you may trample down the rebellious and the treacherous...
(Kitchen 1999: 166-67).
Again, just like the Assyrians, the Egyptians of the New Kingdom forced
the local rulers to conclude disadvantageous treaties that enabled the
pharaoh to take drastic action as soon as a vassal stepped out of line
(Kitchen 1979a). Since the Hittites also used this means of controlling
their vassals (e.g. Del Monte 1986), it is warranted to conclude that a
covenant between unequal parties became a common instrument to prevent insurrection. Breaking such a treaty, to which the vassal was bound
by oath, was tantamount to challenging the deities supposedly guaranteeing its effectiveness.
4. Rebellion against the Deity
As we have seen, rebellion against the existing social and political order
could be interpreted as sin against the deity because it was an axiom that
those in authority, whether parents or rulers, enjoyed the full support of
the gods and goddesses. So a person rebelling against parents or king had
to be a sinner, even if she or he belonged to a different nationality and
religion. Kings of Urartu, for example, are accused of disobeying the
Assyrian gods Assur, Marduk, Nabu and Shamash by breaking their oaths
of loyalty towards Sargon II (Thureau-Dangin 1912: 16.92-95; contrast
20.112-21; 48.309-10; 52.346). Indeed the Assyrians made their vassals
339
swear by the deities of Assyria as well as by their own gods (Wiseman

1958; Watanabe 1987; Parpola and Watanabe 1988). Breaking such a
treaty was considered a sin that not only the Assyrian deities were sure to
revenge but also the vassal's own gods (Parpola and Watanabe 1988:4-5,
8-13, etc.).
Tablet 6 of the standard version of the Babylonian Epic ofGilgamesh
describes how the hero brusquely turns down Ishtar's advances, insulting
her by enumerating the sorry end of all her previous lovers. At first
Gilgamesh seems to get away with this sacrilege. Together with his friend
Enkidu he conquers the Bull of Heaven, which Ishtar had sent to punish
him for his insolence. But that same night Enkidu dreams that he will die,
as happens indeed soon after. After the death of his friend Gilgamesh
refuses to accept that eventually this will be his fate too. Through amazing
acts of heroism he finally obtains the plant of eternal rejuvenation, but a
snake steals it from him (Tablet 11). Sooner or later, rebellion against a
deity ends in death.
In the texts of Ugarit, remarkably often we encounter protests of young
people against the theology their parents believed in. The children of Kirtu
as well as Aqhatu, the son of Dani'ilu, reject the idea of immortality that
was part of the belief in a beatific afterlife for famous people. Aqhatu
openly refuses to give in to ' Anatu's wish that he hand over his magic bow
and calls her promise of eternal life rubbish. He deliberately insults her as
the patron of hunting by declaring that the bow is a man's weapon which
is of no use to womenfolk (KTU 1.17.VI.34-41; de Moor 1987: 239).
'Anatu explicitly calls this 'rebellion' and 'presumption'. Since we have
reason to suspect that not only Aqhatu but also all the children of Kirtu
but for the youngest girldied prematurely, the lesson seems to be that
whoever rebels against a deity risks her or his life (de Moor 1997:91-102).
No doubt the most famous heretic in the ancient Near East was Akhenaten, the Egyptian king who deposed all deities but one, his beloved Aten.
He was the first true monotheist and, although his innovative revolution
lasted only twenty years, the counter-revolution that brought back polytheism in a modified form has had a lasting influence on the development
of religion (de Moor 1997). Later generations tried to ignore this radical
fanatic or simply called him 'the rebel' (Kitchen 1979b: 158.15).
In the Bible rebellion against the deity is a theme that spans the history
of humankind from creation to eschaton. Time and again the Israelites
break the rules of the covenant and are punished, sometimes by death, but
those spared are ultimately forgiven and restored (see e.g. Coats 1968). Of
340
course this type of consciousness of guilt and the need of remission of sins
is not absent in other cultures of the ancient Near East,11 but just as no
other nation admitted that its founding fathers were rebels, so no other
nation constructed its national history deliberately as an endless chain of
sin and redemption. Terms for rebellion abound in the Old Testament and
the vast majority of instances signify rebellion against YHWH (DCH, V,
478-81; Carpenter and Grisanti 1997).
Why are the Israelites such stubborn rebels against their own God? In
my opinion the answer Israel gave to this disquieting question should be
sought in the pessimistic wisdom literature, especially in the book of Job
on which David Clines is writing such a magnificent commentary (Clines
1989-). Thinking about one God creates totally different types of rebels
like the rebel king Akhenaten in Egypt and the biblical Job. I believe that
initially the historical Job was anything but a rebel (de Moor 1997: 13162), but thinking about only one deity who could be held responsible for
both good and evil made him a rebel.
The strange thing is that everybody assumes that the book of Job, like so
many other pessimistic wisdom books of antiquity (de Moor 1997: 52-58,
61-64, 99-102), ends in a theodicy: Job would grant God his all too easy
victory. Usually Job 42.6 is translated as an admission of guilt on the part
of Job: 'idcirco ipse me reprehendo et ago paenitentiam in fa villa et cinere'
(Vulgate), 'Darum spreche ich mich schuldig und tue Busse in Staub und
Asche' (Luther), 'therefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes'
(KJV), 'Wherefore I abhor myself, And repent in dust and ashes' (ASV),
'therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes' (RSV), 'Therefore, I recant and relent' (JPSV), 'Therefore I despise myself and repent in
dust and ashes' (NIV), 'I retract what I have said, and repent in dust and
ashes' (NJB). DCH, V, 120 proposes that m 's without object might mean
'feel loathing, contempt, revulsion'. Grammatically it would also be possible to assume a reflexive meaning, 'to despise oneself (cf. RSV and Korpel
and de Moor 1998:205 n. 3). In either case Job would be refusing to admit
who has won the fierce debate. He feels only loathing for his inability to
reply satisfactorily to the long list of challenging questions God has put
before him. These questions mainly concern the physical world and have
11. Compare, for example, Kitchen 1999: 289, 'While the servant was sure to do
wrong,/yet the Lord is sure to be mercirul./The Lord of Thebes does not spend the
whole day angry,/when he is angry,it's for a moment, without reproach', with Isa.
54.7-8; Jer. 3.12; Pss. 30.6; 103.9; etc.
341
goaded humankind ever since into joining Job's rebellion and trying to
find out the answers (cf. Barrow 1988: 33).
5. Conclusions
Obviously it is too early to draw conclusions. The theme of this paper
deserves a collaborative volume by specialists from various disciplines.
Yet refusing to conclude is the easiest way out, as Claude Bernard wrote
in his Cahiers des notes (1850-60). At the outset I stated, 'All innovation
starts as rebellion'. Now it is time for the sobering observation that not
every rebellion achieves innovation. We have seen that already in antiquity
the burden of custom, belief, establishment and repression often proved to
be too heavy for a rebellion to succeed.
The main reason why few rebels succeeded proved to be the legitimation
of domination by religion. Naturally those who suffered undeservedly from
this construction eventually challenged the righteousness of deities supporting oppression. But even this ultimate rebellion against divine authority
usually ended in theodicy. God is always right. As a result, innovative
change was minimal and marginal in the ancient Near East. What impresses the Orientalist is the pervading sense of continuity in the development
of the civilizations of the ancient Near East. Of course, empires toppled and
none of them has survived. But they were vanquished by outside forces,
foreign hordes sensing the inherent weakness of self-centred systems that
resisted fresh impulses for too long.
Yet some rebels from antiquity have left a lasting mark in history. Israel
deliberately depicted its heroes of the past as rebels. I am sure it does not
matter much to David Clines whether or not Job, Moses and King David
were historical persons. But what will no doubt appeal to him is that, in
contrast to all other peoples of the ancient Near East, Israel forged its past
in such a way that these rebels got a legitimate place in history and
continue to exercise their innovative influence up to our own day.
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'THE CONSOLATIONS OF GOD':

ASSESSING JOB'S FRIENDS ACROSS A CULTURAL ABYSS
Carol A. Newsom
The book of Job presents many hermeneutical problems, one of which is

how to understand and assess the role of Job's friends as comforters.1
Although grief and consolation are universal human experiences, the particular forms they take are culturally specific. What is expected in one culture may be deemed quite inappropriate in another. That discrepancy is part
of the hermeneutical difficulty. Modern Western expectations for how one
comforts or consoles another are deeply at odds with the way the friends
respond to Job. The gap is so great that most critics realize that they cannot simply rely on their own cultural norms to grasp and interpret what the
friends are doing. How can one tell if the friends are being presented as
model comforters, as initially good but increasingly bad comforters, or as
complete caricatures of the cultural model of the consoling friend? Very
little information exists within biblical sources to show what the cultural
expectations for consolation were in ancient Israel. Where information is
so limited, it may be helpful to introduce a comparison from a culture that
is neither that of the text to be interpreted nor that of the reader. Such comparison provides a kind of 'triangulation' that allows one to test certain assumptions and perhaps to attend to features that otherwise did not seem
distinctive. To this end I wish to suggest that there is value in looking at
the Greco-Roman literature on consolation in relation to the performance
of the friends in Job. I do not suggest the possibility of influence in either
direction, but use the comparison in a purely suggestive manner.
To begin, however, it is important to survey what we do know about
Israelite expectations concerning consolation. Our sources are three: (1) the
semantics of the words 11] and DPI]; (2) the narratives that describe grief
1. It is an honor but also a daunting prospect to dedicate an article on Job to David
Clines, since his own commentary on Job is quite simply without peer in Joban scholarship.
348
and consolation; (3) the literary representation of a dialogue of grief and

attempted consolation in Job 3-27 and its close generic parallel in the Babylonian Theodicy.
The semantics of DilD have been discussed in many contexts, and it is
not possible here to deal with all the issues of its nuances. The one point
important for my purposes, however, is that the range of meanings of the
word in the niphal ('to be sorry', 'to regret', 'to change one's mind', 'to be
consoled', 'to take satisfaction') all have to do with a change in disposition
toward a particular state of affairs. Although I would disagree with parts of
his analysis, Simian-Yofre's analysis of DP13 helpfully describes this process as 'dissociation,' either from a particular action or decision or earlier
feelings (1998: 60). As Gary Anderson has pointed out, however, the word
does not simply denote inner emotions but behaviors. One who is 'consoled' ceases mourning practices and resumes normal life (Anderson 1991:
9-14). In the piel 0113 has to do with actions that produce or facilitate such
a change in disposition. The range of emotions or states of affairs implicated in the piel is narrower than that of the niphal, however, for the verb
in the piel is concerned exclusively with actions of comfort and consolation. Anderson (84) argues that the piel can have eitherprocessual or resultative nuance, that is, it may refer to 'the symbolic action of assuming a
state of mourning alongside the mourner' or 'it can have the nuance of
bringing about the cessation of mourning'. Although the distinction is appropriate, it should not be overdone, for in all cases the word refers to a
social action that is fundamentally oriented to effecting an emotional and
behavioral change. This important aspect of DPI] is highlighted when it
is paired, as it is in Job 2.11 and 42.11, with the word Tl]. Marvin Pope's
judgment, that these are simply synonyms (Pope 1973:24), is not entirely
adequate. The word 11] is a more restricted term. In non-grief contexts it
refers to a shaking movement (e.g. shaking reeds, 1 Kgs 14.15; shaking of
the head, Jer. 18.16), and so in contexts of grief it appears to denote the
sympathetic movements one makes in the presence of the grief-stricken.
Thus it is often translated as 'grieve' or 'bemoan' or 'show sympathy'. In
all five instances in which it is paired with DPI] (in addition to Job 2.11 and
42.11; Isa. 51.19; Nah. 3.7; Ps. 69.21), it appropriately is always the first of
the two terms, for it describes the initial stages of the longer process of
achieving consolation.
What do we know of the social process of consolation in ancient Israel?
Several narratives supply the outlines of what was expected in acts of consolation following a death. These accounts include that of Isaac and the
NEWSOM 'The Consolations of God'
349
death of Sarah (Gen. 24.67), Jacob and the presumed death of Joseph (Gen.
37.32-35), Judah after the death of his wife (Gen. 28.12), David's response
to the death of the Ammonite king Nahash (2 Sam. 10.2a), David's comforting Bathsheba after the death of their child (2 Sam. 12.24), David's
response to the death of Amnon (2 Sam. 13.39), Ephraim and the death of
his sons (1 Chron. 7.20-23) and, of course, Job and the death of his children,
together with the rest of his calamities (Job 1-2; 42.7-17). David's actions
during the illness of his child (2 Sam. 12.15b-23) and Ezra's reaction to the
news of Judean intermarriage (Ezra 9.1-4) exhibit similar mourning behaviors in other situations of great distress.
The basic pattern is clear, although not all elements are mentioned in each
account. While I think we can place the actions in a logical and meaningful
sequence, this sequence has to be reconstructed from partial descriptions.
The initial act is simply that of presence: family and friends come to be present with the one who mourns (Job's friends and, later, his brothers and sisters and those who knew him; David's messengers to the king of Ammon;
Ephraim's brothers; the sons and daughters of Jacob); they express identification with the mourner by physical gestures (e.g. weeping, tearing robes,
tossing dust).2 Apparently following the noisy manifestations of grief there
is a period of sitting in silence (Job's friends; allusions in Isa. 23.1-3a;
Ezek. 26.15-17a; cf. Ezra's sitting in appalled silence in Ezra 9.4), which
may be followed by more lamentation (Pham 1999: 29-31). At some point
there is also a meal (Jer. 16.7 refers to 'breaking bread' and 'the cup of
consolation'; Job's brothers and sisters eat and drink with him). Ritual
mourning for the dead apparently lasted for seven days (Gen. 50.10; 1 Sam.
31.13//1 Chron. 10.12; Jdt. 16.24; Sir. 22.12), although the internal process of consolation could take much longer (as in the reference to David's
being consoled for the death of Amnon after three years; 2 Sam. 13.3839). The termination of mourning (i.e. the public state of being consoled)
was marked by specific actions. These included getting up, washing,
anointing with oil, putting on clean garments, eating, worshiping and,
above all, having sex.3
2. There are many other practices in which the primary mourner engages (e.g.
tearing or cutting hair, gashing oneself). There is no evidence one way or the other,
however, as to whether those who come to mourn with the bereaved also participate in
these activities.
3. Anderson (1991: 78-80, 82-84) argues that both Siduri's advice to Gilgamesh
and David's actions when his sick child dies are both indications of termination of
350
What these narrative accounts and poetic allusions do not make clear is
whether there was a verbal component to the act of consolation and, if so,
what sorts of things one was expected to say. Presumably, there were verbal expressions of sympathy. The expressive poetry of dirges and laments
would have their place here.4 But given that the process of consolation
had, as part of its purpose, a dissociation from earlier dispositions, were
there also interpretive topoi of consolation that one addressed to the sufferer? Was there a discursive, rational aspect to the practice of consolation? Apart from the book of Job itself (and only the poetic part at that), it
is hard to find evidence one way or the other. Only one account may give a
clue, that of Jacob mourning for Joseph.
Jacob recognized [Joseph's cloak]...and Jacob tore his garments and put
sackcloth on his loins and he mourned for his son for many days. All his
sons and all his daughters got up to comfort him, but he refused to be comforted. He said, 'Truly, I will go down to my son in Sheol in mourning.'
And his father wept for him (Gen. 37.33-35).
Anderson (1991: 86-87) aptly notes that if DRD here meant only 'offered
expressions of sympathy', then Jacob's refusal would make no sense.
What the children are trying to do is to move him along in the process, to
get him to the state of consolation in which a person takes up normal life
again. The text does not say in what way they attempt this, but presumably
it would be by some sort of verbal persuasion. It is not clear, however,
whether the children were doing something that was a standard part of the
consolation processand so were shocked when Jacob suddenly refused
to do what was expected of himor whether their intervention itself was a
response to what they already recognized as a 'blocked' process. Jacob
was said to have mourned Joseph 'for many days', so perhaps he had exceeded the socially approved length of time for engaging in mourning.5 In
either case we do not know what the children said or how they framed
their attempt to persuade Jacob to be consoled for the loss of Joseph.
mourning, though in David's case it was mourning behavior performed as part of a

penitential rite. In almost all of the cases involving the termination of mourning after
death there is a reference to the resumption of sexual relations (Isaac [Gen. 24.67],
Judah [Gen. 38.12-18], Ephraim [1 Chron. 7.22-23], David [2 Sam. 12.24], and,
implicitly, Job in Job 42.11-13). Though the gesture is not interpreted, perhaps it is a
performative symbol of the generation of new life.
4. Cf. Isa. 23.1-3a; Ezek. 26.15-17a; 2 Sam. 1.17-26.
5. Sir. 38.17-18 cautions against expressive grieving that exceeds two days.
351
The only other instance in which DFID is used in the context of rational
persuasion to consolation is in Ezek. 14.21-23.6 There, after the long
oracle of judgment against Jerusalem, God tells Ezekiel and the exiles that
survivors of the destruction will come to them. And when they see the
'ways and deeds' of the survivors, Ezekiel and his community will be
'consoled for the evil that I have brought upon Jerusalem'. Why is this?
Because 'you shall know that it was not without cause that I did all that I
have done in it'. The placement of the disaster within a rational and explicable framework does the work of consolation. It allows the ones grieving
over Jerusalem to begin to dissociate from their former disposition of
confused distress.
The setting of Job echoes that of Jacob in that it appears to be another
instance of a process of consolation that goes awry. After the expressions
of sympathetic identification with Job's mourning and after the seven days
and nights of silence, there should be movement toward ritual closure. It is
time for the breaking of bread and the cup of consolation. Job's culturally
inappropriate outburst in ch. 3 provides the opening for the poetic dialogue, which in the context of the book can be understood as an attempt to
advance the process of consolation through an appeal to rational judgment.
The author's use of a poetic wisdom dialogue for this portion of the
book (chs. 3-27) complicates the issues. Is one warranted in taking its
contents as indicative of consolatory topoi that would have had cultural
currency in ancient Israel? To judge from the book of Job and the Babylonian Theodicy, the genre of the wisdom dialogue is a means for intellectual exploration of many issues about human existence, the rationality of
good and bad fortune, the nature of the gods, and so forth. It is certainly
not a transcript of a typical social occasion of consolation. Nevertheless,
although the wisdom dialogue is a sophisticated literary genre with its own
norms, the fact that it takes as its setting the situation of the sufferer who
refuses to be consoled suggests that one is warranted in assuming that it
will employ some of the standard topoi of consolation. Indeed Job refers to
the friends as 'comforters', albeit 'miserable comforters' (16.2) whose consolations are both 'pointless' and 'fraudulent' (21.34). Job has every right
to his opinion, of course, but I am more interested in whether the friends
are making a culturally appropriate performance than whether or not he is
persuaded by them.
6. In Isa. 40.1 -2 the words of consolation announce a changed situation. In Ezek.
14.21-23 the consolation is a matter of becoming reconciled to a situation that cannot
be changed.
352
Some recent studies have attempted to interpret the friends explicitly in

light of appropriate cultural norms. David Clines's own analysis of Eliphaz's first speech refutes those who see in his address to Job sarcasm and
cruelty. Instead he interprets Eliphaz as 'well-disposed and consolatory
toward Job' (Clines 1989:121). Similarly, Norman Habel( 1985:118-23)
analyzes Eliphaz's first speech in relation to what he calls 'sapiential
counseling', though he draws attention more to parallels for the sapiential
forms of speech than to the content. Gerald Mattingly (1990: 305-48) supplies some of this lack by situating the arguments of the friends (and not
Eliphaz alone) in relation to traditional Mesopotamian understandings of
suffering, the nature of human existence, the gods and reality itself. I wish
to supplement that approach to the friends further with the suggestion that
light may be shed on their performance by looking at the Greco-Roman
literature of consolation. In this short article I can in no way do justice to
the scope and complexity of that literature. But even a brief examination is
instructive.
A number of sources exist for the Greco-Roman material, including
literary, philosophical, papyrological and inscriptional evidence.7 Despite
the variety, there is significant similarity in the topoi of consolation that
occur in different media.8 Although the literary consolations are usually
considered a late genre,9 the earliest preserved examples of consolatory
topoi appear in Homer. Both Homer and Euripides are frequently cited in
the consolationes. By the late fifth and early fourth centuries, treatises dealing with consolatory topics are attested, although unfortunately most of
this early literature is known from references in later writers. Among the
most intriguing is Plutarch's reference to the fifth-century sophist Antiphon
who was said to have created an 'art for the alleviation of grief' (Holloway
2001: 58). A larger quantity of extant material comes from the literature of
the late Republic and early Empire. The consolatory letter is perhaps the
7. In this discussion I am deeply indebted to the work of Paul Holloway (2001),

who provides a richly detailed and documented survey of the Greco-Roman traditions.
I also wish to thank him for reading and commenting upon an earlier version of this
article.
8. Lattimore (1962:215-16) considers the relationship between funeral inscriptions
and the literary consolatory texts. Although he rejects the notion that the literary consolatio is the primary source for the consolatory epitaph, he assumes that both types of
texts employ common cultural commonplaces.
9. Manning (1981: 12) associates its development with the concern of Hellenistic
philosophy 'to equip the individual to meet the changes and chances of life'.
353
best attested genre, with important examples from Cicero, Seneca, Pliny,
Plutarch, Apollonius of Tyana and others. Plutarch's essays and Cicero's
Tusculan Disputations are also rich sources for consolatory topoi. The
genres and topoi continued to be prominent in early Christian writings.
Although much of the literature on consolation is related to the topic of
death, many other forms of distress were treated. Cicero observes that there
were specific discourses designed to address poverty, life without honor,
exile, the ruin of one's country, slavery, illness, blindness, 'and any other
misfortune to which the term calamity can properly be applied' (Tusc.
3.34.81; my trans.). Many of the arguments, however, were multi-purpose
and could be used in relation to a variety of situations (Holloway 2001:64).
As one would expect, the specific task of consolation and the arguments
used differed according to the philosophical perspectives that informed
them (Kassel 1956: 1-48). Cicero distinguished five different theories of
consolation, which correlated with the various philosophical schools (Tusc.
3.32.76). The Stoic Cleanthes sought to show the sufferer that the supposed
evil was not an evil at all. The Peripatetics sought to moderate grief by
showing that the evil was not so great. The Epicureans, who could not
deny that mental anguish was evil, tried to avert attention from unpleasant
things to pleasant things. The Cyrenaics thought that the real distress was
being unprepared for evil and so attempted to show that what had happened was not really unexpected. And finally Chrysippus, another Stoic,
tried to disabuse persons of the notion that grief is a sort of duty, when in
fact it is an inappropriate and useless response.
Precisely because specific arguments about consolation are systemically
linked to larger sets of belief, one would not expect to find many specific
content parallels between ancient Near Eastern consolatory topoi and those
in the Greco-Roman repertoire. Some do exist, of course, since certain
consolatory gestures are simply common responses to a common problem.
Warnings against the dangerous, even fatal effects of unregulated emotion
can be found in both traditions (e.g. Job 5.2; Sir. 38.18; Ps.-Plutarch, Ad
Apoll. 102C). Similarly, it is a commonplace that death comes to all. The
statement of the friend in the Babylonian Theodicy that 'our fathers in fact
give up and go the way of death. It is an old saying that they cross the
river Hubur' (11. 16-17; trans. Lambert 1960) anticipates the Greek epitaph, 'Do not weep: the threat of the Fates summons all' (Lattimore 1962:
218). Lattimore (219) himself draws attention to the striking similarity
between the Latin epitaph,^ ta animam dederant fata eademq[ue] negant
('the fates gave life, and the same fates deny it') and Job's words of self-
354
consolation, 'YHWH has given, and YHWH has taken away' (Job 1.21). In
general, however, one is struck by the differences in content more than the
similarities. The exception, not surprisingly, is Ben Sira. The consolatory
topos in Sir. 38.16-23 bears striking resemblance to the Greco-Roman
material, presumably because Ben Sira reflects the cultural milieu of Hellenistic popular philosophy. More helpful than fishing for parallels of content, however, is an examination of the fundamental assumptions that underlie the Greco-Roman understanding of the nature, purpose and appropriate
modes of consolation. I will mention five such assumptions.
First, a clear distinction is made between sympathy and consolation. Each
has its place in a process of dealing with grief, loss or distress. Sympathy is
most appropriate to the time immediately following the death or misfortune, but consolatory letters also often begin with brief expressions of sympathy. But the distinction is insisted upon. In Aelianus's Varia histoha 7.3,
Aristippus declares, 'I have come not to share your grief but to stop your
grief (trans. Hollo way 2001: 62). Similarly, in Pericles' funeral oration in
the Peloponnesian War 2.44 he declares to grieving parents, 'I will not
weep for you, only console you' (trans. Blanco 1998). The duty of consolers, as Cicero describes it, is 'to do away with distress root and branch,
or allay it, or diminish it as far as possible, or stop its progress and not
allow it to extend further or to divert it elsewhere' (Tusc. 3.31.75; trans.
King 1927). Consolation thus intentionally moves away from sympathy.
Second, consolation is a fundamental expression of friendship. In the
Pseudo-Plutarchian letter to Apollonius upon the death of his son, the
author indicates that he waited for a time, since in the days immediately
following the funeral 'compassion was more seasonable than advice'. But
'now that a competent time is past.. .1 believed I should do an acceptable
piece of friendship, if I should now comfort you with those reasons which
may lessen your grief and silence your complaints' (Plutarch 1909:413).
Third, and perhaps most important, consolation was fundamentally a
rational enterprise. Holloway (2001: 56) defines it as 'the combating of
grief through rational argument'. Whether the target was grief itself or an
excess of grief, the problem was seen as a failure of the understanding. If
the sufferer could be taught to understand correctly, then he or she would
be consoled and able to resume normal life and appropriate duties in the
world. Consolation, thus, is fundamentally a kind of moral instruction,
designed to help the sufferer embody the virtues appropriate to a wise
person. Plutarch brings together these first three points in the introduction
to his essay on exile.
355
[M]any people visit the unfortunate and talk to them, but their efforts do no
good, or rather do harm. These people are like men unable to swim who try
to rescue the drowningthey hug them close and help to drag them under.
The language addressed to us by friends and real helpers should mitigate,
not vindicate, what distresses us; it is not partners in tears and lamentation,
like tragic choruses, that we need in unwished-for circumstances, but men
who speak frankly and instruct us that grief and self-abasement are everywhere futile, and that to indulge in them is unwarranted and unwise (On
Exile 559B; trans, de Lacy 1929).
Fourth, it is appropriate in the case of someone who resists consolation

to be abrupt and even to rebuke them. Thus Gregory Nazianzen refers to
the responsibility of the consoler 'to sympathize on some points, exhort on
others, and, perhaps, to deliver a rebuke on others' (Holloway 2001: 63).
Oftentimes these rebukes were couched in relatively polite or indirect ways.
But they could be brutal, as in Seneca's rebuke of Marullus. Seneca introduces the letter with the reflection that
When a man is stricken and is finding it most difficult to endure a grievous
wound, one must humour him for a while; let him satisfy his grief or at any
rate work off the first shock; but those who have set themselves to make
lamentation should be rebuked forthwith.
His address to Marullus begins abruptly.

Is it solace that you look for? Let me give you a scolding instead! You are
like a woman in the way you take your son's death (Ep. 99.1-2; trans.
Gummere 1925).
Finally, even though, as I indicated earlier, different arguments concerning consolation took different forms according to the philosophical presuppositions governing them, in many compositions there is an eclecticism
that is not careful about logical self-consistency. Cicero himself, after carefully distinguishing the five approaches, goes on to say that in his own
essay, 'I threw them all into one attempt at consolation; for my soul was in
a feverish state and I attempted every means of curing its condition' (Tusc.
3.31.76; trans. King 1927).
The purpose of drawing this very sketchy portrait of certain GrecoRoman assumptions about consolation is to allow it to stand between our
own intuitive assumptions about sympathy, consolation and the proper
response to one in distress and those that are exhibited by Job's friends.
None of these three sets of cultural assumptions is entirely like the others,
but the ancient Israelite and Greco-Roman models certainly stand closer to
one another than to our modern Western one. Thus the comparison serves
356
to normalize elements of the friends' words and behavior that we are often
not certain whether to treat as examples of good cultural performance of
consolation or as an outrageous failure of true friendship. At least when
seen through the lens of Greco-Roman assumptions, the friends appear to
be fulfilling in a consistent and appropriate manner the tasks of consolation. They have, as friends, begun with sympathy, but their friendship
offering would have been incomplete had they not also engaged in consolation. The rationalism of their arguments is neither inept nor inapt but is
precisely the instruction that is needed when grief disorders insight. Appropriate, too, is the eclecticism of their consolatory repertoire, for one does
not know what will prove useful. Even the increasing harshness of tone
and moral rebukes would have appeared appropriate from the perspective
of Greco-Roman traditions.
A second potential value of such a comparison is to highlight differences. Although the Greco-Roman and Israelite traditions share a distrust
of excessive and intemperate emotions, emotion itself is much more the
focus in Greco-Roman than in Israelite literature (with the notable exception of Ben Sira). What takes the central place in the Joban dialogue is not
unruly passion but the question of the ultimate fairness or meaningfulness
of what has happenedin short, the question of justice. Consolation, the
return of equanimity, thus necessarily becomes entangled in resolving that
issue. Such a comparison allows one to see the different intellectual uses
to which suffering is put in the two cultures. Related to this intellectual profile, of course, is the sharp difference in literary genres by which the issues
of grief and consolation are treated. Although the Greeks and Romans
write dramas and poetry in which consolatory topoi are employed, their
systematic examination takes place in letters, in essays and in dialogues
that are really monologues. The one to be consoled is never quite present,
never given a voice. By contrast, in the ancient Near Eastern literature the
agon of consolation is what fascinates, whether this is embodied in the
internal struggle of the emblematic sufferer in Mesopotamian texts or in
the wisdom dialogues of the Babylonian Theodicy and Job. One cannot
imagine Cicero or Plutarch or Seneca truly entering into and giving expression to the mind and reasons of one who was intent on resisting consolation.10
10. This is not to say that resistance to consolation does not make its appearance in
the Greco-Roman literature at all. It tends, however, to be acknowledged as a failure or
defeat. In consoling his friend, Seneca observes that 'he who writes these words to you
is no other than I, who wept so excessively for my dear friend Annaeus Serenus that, in
357
Finally, the value of such a comparison is hermeneutical. It is too easy

when one is focused only on one particular text to see the strangeness of
the text as its strangeness. When we look at the Joban dialogue in company with the Greco-Roman literature of consolation, there is a better
chance of experiencing the se/f-estrangement that Gadamer says is so important to the hermeneutical process. That is to say, our own assumptions
about grief, friendship, sympathy and consolationand the broader set of
beliefs to which they are relatedmay become the oddity that requires
explaining to a mystified and skeptical Israelite or Roman.
In this article I have tried to summarize what we know and do not know
about the cultural practice of consolation in ancient Israel. Since one of the
big gaps in our knowledge concerns the nature of verbal consolation, I
have attempted to supplement the comparisons that have been made with
the exemplary sufferer literature of Mesopotamia with a different sort of
comparison, one that involves the culturally non-contiguous literature of
Greco-Roman consolation. Although this brief examination has scarcely
scratched the surface, I hope I have begun to indicate some of the ways in
which a closer examination might help us to assess the consolatory efforts
of Job's friends across the cultural abyss that separates us from them.
Bibliography
Anderson, G.
1991
Cicero
1927
Clines, D.J.A.
1989
Habel, N.
1985
Holloway, P.
2001
Kassel, R.
1956
A Time to Mourn, a Time to Dance (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State

Press).
Tusculan Disputations (trans. I.E. King; LCL; London: William Heinemann).
The Book of Job (OIL; Philadelphia: Westminster Press).
Consolation in Philippians (SNTSMS, 112; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).
Untersuchungen zur griechischen und romischen Konsolationsliteratur
(Zetemata, 18; Munich: C.H. Beck).
spite of my wishes, I must be included among the examples of men who have been
overcome by grief. To-day, however, I condemn this act of mine...' (Ep. 63.14; trans.
Gummere 1925).
358
Lambert, W.G.
1960
Lattimore, R.
1962
Themes in Greek and Latin Epitaphs (Urbana, IL: University of Illinois
Press).
Manning, C.E.
1981
On Seneca's 'Ad Marciam' (Mnemosyne Supplementum, 69; Leiden: E.J.
Brill).
Mattingly, G.
1990
'The Pious Sufferer: Mesopotamia's Traditional Theodicy and Job's Counselors', in W. Hallo, B. Jones and G. Mattingly (eds.), The Bible in the Light
of Cuneiform Literature (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen): 305-48.
Pham, X.H.T.
1999
Mourning in the Ancient Near East and the Hebrew Bible (JSOTSup, 302;
Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press).
Plutarch
1909
The Complete Works of Plutarch, II (New York: The Kelmscott Society).
1929
Moralia, VII (trans. P.H. de Lacy; 15 vols.; LCL; Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press).
Pope, M.
1973
Job (AB, 15; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 3rd edn).
Seneca
1925
AdLucilium Epistulae Morales (trans. R.M. Gummere; 3 vols.; LCL; London:
William Heinemann).
Simian-Yofre, H.
1998 lDnr,inTDOT, IX, 340-55.
Thucydides
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& Co.).
NADAB AND ABIHU

RolfRendtorff
Now Aaron's sons, Nadab and Abihu, each took his pan, put coals in it, and
laid incense on it; and they brought near to the LORD a strange fire which he
had not commanded them. And fire came forth from before the LORD and
consumed them, and they died before the LORD. Then Moses said to Aaron,
'This is what the LORD meant when he said: "Through those near to me I
shall sanctify myself, and before all the people I shall glorify myself'.' And
Aaron was silent (Lev. 10.1-3).
There are many strange stories in the Bible, but this is one of the strangest.
Many things in this story we do not fully understand. In this little essay I
will deal with only a few of them.1
Leviticus 10 is the only narrative chapter in the book of Leviticus. From
a formal point of view chs. 8 and 9 could be called narrative as well,
compared with the purely ritual texts in chs. 1-7. But actually these chapters only conclude the series of texts from Exodus 25 on, which explain
the preparations and installation of the cult in the 'tent of meeting'. This
series is definitely completed by the scene in Lev. 9.23-24 when 'the glory
of the LORD appeared to all the people and fire came out from the LORD
and consumed the burnt offering and the fat on the altar'.
Suddenly the ceremonial mood of the text is interrupted by a dramatic
story. In the just completed cultic center there occurs a violation of the
cultic order just installed. Yet what is the violation? And who are Nadab
and Abihu? What does the reader know so far about the two? The answer
is rather mixed. In some texts Aaron's four sons are mentioned: Nadab,
Abihu, Eleazar and Ithamar (Exod. 6.23; 28.1). But in Exod. 24.1, 9 only
Nadab and Abihu are mentioned alongside Moses and Aaron, without any
hint of their relationship to Aaron. Together with seventy elders of Israel
they are called ^"l(2T S33 1'lTiN, a hapax legomenon of unknown
1. I dedicate this little fragment of my present work on Leviticus to David Clines
as a token of friendship.
360
etymology which obviously defines the leaders of the people (see DCH, I,
263). Exod. 24.1-2, 9-11 contain a very exceptional story, as unrelated to
its context as Lev. 10.1-3. The most enigmatic aspect in this text is the
notion that the group of leaders 'saw the God of Israel' (v. 10), but that
they survived in spite of that. Should we understand Leviticus 10 against
the background of Exodus 24? Did Nadab and Abihu understand themselves as exceptional persons who 'saw God'? Did they feel entitled to
another special encounter with God? In any case, they did something that
had been neither commanded nor mentioned at all so far. That is why we
do not know exactly what it was they did.
Nadab and Abihu 'each took his nnnQ'. About this instrument we learn
from the dictionary: 'firepan, utensil of altar, for carrying burning coals or
ashes' (DCH, V, 233). It is an instrument belonging to the altar. But why
'his firepan'? Does a certain pan belong to somebody personally? And if
so, for what purpose? The dictionary has a second meaning of nnnQ: 'censer'. This meaning is almost exclusively to be found in Leviticus 10 and
Numbers 16-17with one exception: Lev. 16.12. In one respect Numbers
16 is parallel to Leviticus 10: the pan is used by individuals who each take
'his pan' (w. 17, 18) and put incense on it. But the differences are obvious: in Leviticus 10 it is an individual decision by Nadab and Abihu to take
'each his pan', while in Numbers 16 Moses tells Korah and his followers to
take 'pans' (v. 6), and only after they do so does the text say 'each his pan'
(vv. 17, 18), which could mean: the pan that had been allotted to him.
But did Korah and his followers actually bring an incense offering? The
chapter combines two stories about an insurrection against Moses and
Aaron; in only one of them are the pans and the incense mentioned (w. 6,
17,18,35). According to the text, following the instructions of Moses they
took pans and put fire coals and incense on them in order 'to bring it near
before the LORD'. But after they had reached the entrance of the tent of
meeting, nothing more is said about the pans and the incense. It is just
stated: 'They stood at the entrance' (v. 18). Only at the end of the chapter
there follows a brief sentence without any relation to the story in the
verses before: 'And fire came forth from the LORD and consumed the two
hundred and fifty men bringing near the incense' (v. 35). The parallel to
Lev. 10.2 is obvious. Whatever might have been told in the obviously lost
piece of the story in Numbers 16, the action of the 250 men is as condemnable as that of Nadab and Abihu.2
2. The question remains why Moses told them to take the pans and to put incense
on them. The key to the answer could be found in Num. 16.7: it will be demonstrated
RENDTORFF Nadab andAbihu
361
In the following chapter another rebellion is related, this time on the part
of the whole congregation (Num. 17.6-15). Now it is Aaron who, directed
by Moses, takes a pan and puts fiery coals from the altar on it and adds
incense (v. 11). But the situation is totally different: Moses explains that
Aaron's action should serve to make expiation (15D, NRSV [16.46] 'atonement'). Thus Aaron takes his pan with the incense and runs to the midst of
the congregation, and the plague that has already begun is checked (v. 13).
This, of course, was not an illegitimate use of incense, but it was a very
exceptional one. The main point is that it was executed by Aaron, who had
a unique position in cultic matters; therefore it could not serve as an
example for anybody else. The second point is the function of the incense
for expiation.
This leads us to Leviticus 16. Aaron, just before he enters the adytum,
takes 'a panful (nnrtQiTN^Q) of fiery coals... and two handfuls of finely
ground perfumed incense' (v. 12), but he puts the incense on the fire only
inside the veil 'before the LORD so that the cloud from the incense covers
the kapporef(v. 13). This is another very special action with incense,
again executed by Aaronthat is, from a later point of view, the High
Priestand only once a year at Yom Hakkippurim.The two texts in Numbers 17 and Leviticus 16 show different sides of the use of incense by
Aaron. What is common to both of them, in addition to the fact that it is
only Aaron and nobody else who could act like this, is the close relation to
expiation. In the case of Numbers 17, Aaron brings the incense as a means
of cultic action against the plague. Because the plague comes from God,
this action is a way of expiation for those suffering from the plague. In
Leviticus 16 the situation is different. Once a year Aaron's action with the
incense is part of an expiation ritual which works in favor of the Holy
Place (tiTTpn, v. 16a), the Tent of Meeting (v. 16b), or even of the whole
congregation (v. 17).3 As different as they are, the two texts Numbers 17
and Leviticus 16 are in close relationship to each other, compared with the
rest of the texts that speak about incense. It is only Aaron, that is, the High
Priest, who is allowed to bring incense, and even for Aaron this is only
allowed in a situation related to expiation.
The only additional context for a legitimate 'burning of incense' (TBpn
mop) is the incense altar, on which Aaron each morning and each evening
'shall burn a daily incense before the LORD throughout your generations'
whom God elected. But how? At the end of the story it is only shown that God elected
none of them.
3. This is not the place to discuss the details of the structure of Lev. 16.
362
(Exod. 30.7, 8; cf. 2 Chron. 2.3). According to this text the burning of incense on a fixed place, which is erected only for this purpose, is a daily
ceremony. But this ceremony is not described as 'to bring near before the
LORD' (m!T ^S1? IT~lpn). And nowhere else in the commandments on
sacrifices, be it in Leviticus 1-7 or elsewhere, is incense mentioned in
conjunction with such terminologyexcept Lev. 16.12-13. So we have to
conclude that there is no legitimate incense offering at all apart fom the
one of the High Priest on Yom Hakkippurim. But this is exactly what Nadab
and Abihu wanted to do: to offer an incense offering.
The attempted incense offering is called HIT tDK (Lev. 10.1; cf. Num.
3.4; 26.61). What is meant by this wording? The nearest parallel is mop
n~)T in Exod. 30.9. Here it is forbidden to offer on the incense altar anything other than what is prescribed for Aaron in the verses preceding.
There the two main kinds of sacrifices are named, ilÛ and nn]Q. This
means that the incense altar must not be used for regular sacrifices. In
addition, two other kinds of offerings are mentioned that are not listed in
the commandments on sacrifices: mttp and "]DD (libation). It would go
beyond the scope of this essay to deal with the problems of libation. Two
things are of interest in our context. First, libation is, like incense, not a
sacrifice or offering commanded by the law. It is sometimes mentioned,
together with nriDD, as an additional offering, in particular in the two calendars, Numbers 29-30 (passim) and Leviticus 23 (vv. 13,17,37) (Rendtorff
1967: 170-72). Second: Libation is frequently mentioned as a syncretistic
offering (Jer. 7.18; 19.13; etc.) (Dohmen 1986:488-94). In some cases incense offering is also mentioned as a syncretistic action. Isa. 1.13 speaks
of'futile ni"l3Q' and calls incense an 'abomination' (!"OJ?in). The same expression is used in Ezek. 8.9,11, where the burning of incense is one of the
abominations that are practised in the ruins of the temple; cf. also Ezek.
16.18; 23.41. Insofar as the action of Nadab and Abihu can be called W*
mi, their offering \sforeign and forbidden (DCH, III, 98).
A different aspect of the meaning of IT is expressed in Num. 17.5 (ET
16.40). The pans of Korah and his group are to be hammered out as a covering for the altar as a reminder 'that no outsider ("IT tFN), one not of
Aaron's offspring, should approach to offer incense before the LORD'.
Here the point is stressed that the offerer may not be someone who is not
an Aaronite. This, of course, was not the point with Nadab and Abihu.
Obviously, this problem had been looked at from different angles, and
possibly in different times.
RENDTORFF Nadab andAbihu
363
Finally, it might be no accident that the two stories in Leviticus 10 and

Numbers 16 are both dealing with a kind of rebellion. Though the
motivations of Nadab and Abihu are not explicated, one could imagine, as
mentioned above, that they wanted to demonstrate their specific role as
Aaron's eldest sons, and thereby as next in the priestly hierarchy. They
might have felt, like Korah and his followers, that Moses and Aaron
elevated themselves too much, and therefore they wanted to claim
privileges similar to their father's.
Behind all that, there seems to be a story of rivalry within the Aaronite
priesthood about which we can only speculate. The exegesis of the
enigmatic verse Lev. 10.3 would have to look at those problems. But this
is beyond my present topic (Wiesel 1997: 18-28).
Bibliography
Dohmen, Christoph
1986
'"jCn nasak\ in ThWAT, V, 488-94.
Rendtorff, Rolf
1967
Studien zur Geschichte des Opfers im Alten Israel (WMANT, 24; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag): 170-72.
Wiesel, Elie
1997
'Nadab and Abihu', European Judaism 30.2: 18-28.
THE WISDOM FORMULA 'Do NOT SAY. ..'
AND THE ANGEL IN QOHELET 5.5
Alexander Rofe
The saying and the instruction constitute the shortest and simplest elements
in biblical Wisdom. The saying expresses an inference deduced from dayto-day reality, such as: 'Wine is a scoffer, strong drink a roisterer; he who
is muddled by them will not grow wise' (Prov. 20.1). As against this, the
instruction is an incitement or admonition phrased as a wish or command:
'Let the mouth of another praise you, not yours, the lips of strangers not
your own' (Prov. 27.2). The majority of maxims in the book of Proverbs
are sayings; they make up almost all of the second, longest, collection in
the book (10.1-22.16). The instructions are not many; they are present in
the third (22.17-24.22), the fourth (24.23-34) and part of the fifth collection (chs. 25-27). Some of the instructions are unsubstantiated (cf. 27.2);
mostly, however, they are sustained by an explanatory phrase, opening
with the word 'D (for) or ]S (else) as in 'Do not answer a dullard in accord
with his folly, else you will become like him' (26.4), or 'Do not boast of
tomorrow, for you do not know what the day will bring' (27.1). Most instructions recommend a certain life style or act likely to bring about success and happiness.1
In the instruction, more precisely in the negative one, that is, the admonition, we may detect a subtype, the 'Do not say' warning. This category has
not yet been listed, neither in general textbooks of the Hebrew Bible nor in
specific introductions to Wisdom literature. Yet, it has repeatedly been
noted by scholars who, independently from each other, have worked on
1. Driver 1913: 392-407; Baumgartner 1914; Zimmerli 1933; Eissfeldt 1965:47276; von Rad 1962:418-41.1 cannot subscribe to Zimmerli's opinion that the advice is
later than the saying; McKane 1970; Nel 1982.
ROFE The Wisdom Formula 'Do Not Say...'
365
distinct aspects of Wisdom literature.2 Before trying to characterize this

formula and its function, let us collect a series of significant examples.
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
Prov. 20.22: 'Do not say: "I will requite evil"; put your hope in the
Lord and He will deliver you.' Cf. Prov. 24.29; 2 Sam. 13.32
(interpreted in v. 33); Jer. 1.7; Isa. 56.3-8; Hos. 7.2; Deut. 9.4a, 5 (six
instances in all).
Sir. 15.11,12: 'Do not say: "From God is my transgression"; for that
which He hates He did not make. Do not say: "He made me stumble";
for there is no need of evil men.' Cf. Sir. 5.1,3,4-5,6,7,9; 11.23,24;
16.17; 34(31). 12 (nine additional instances).
Qumran, Sapiential Text 4Q416.2.III.12-15 = 4Q418: 9+9a+9b+9c
(DID, XXXIV, 110): 'You are needy; do not say: "I am poor and I
will n[ot] seek knowledge". Bring your shoulder under all instruction;
and with all [ ] refine your heart, and with much understandingyour
thoughts. Enquire into the mystery that comes, look into all the ways
of truth and contemplate all roots of iniquity. Then you shall know
what is bitter for a man, and what is sweet for a person.'
M Ab. 2.4: 'Do not say: "(This) thing cannot be understood". For
finally it will be understood.3 And do not say: 'When I have leisure I
will study'. Because perhaps you will not have leisure'. Cf. m. Ab. 4.8;
t. San. 3.8; Mek., Mishpatim 20;4 Sifre, Debarim 16; 48;5 Sifra, Ahare
Mot 13.11; Qedoshim 4.26 (seven additional instances).
Abot deRabbi Nathan, 1st version, ch. 3: 'Rabbi Yishmael says: If you
studied Torah in your adolescence, do not say: "I will not learn in my
old age"; but study Torah, because you do not know which will be
suitable'. Cf. Abot deRabbi Nathan, chs. 2 and 3 (four more instances).7
Der. Er. Zut. 2.9: 'Do not say: '"I will flatter this one and he will feed
me, I will flatter that one and he will saturate me, I will flatter the other
one and he will dress me". Better you be ashamed in front of yourself
and not in front of others.' Cf. Der. Er. Zut. 4.3,4 (six more instances).8
Ahiqar (Elephantine) 13.206: 'Let not the rich man say: "Inmyriches
I am glorious".'9 Syriac Recension, Prov. 29: 'My son, do not say:
2. Marbock 1971: 172; Prato 1975:234; Crenshaw 1975:48-51; Rofe 1978; Strugnell and Harrington 1999: 119 (commenting on fragment 2 III 12).
3. Albeck 1953: 358, 495; Travers Herford 1925: 40.
4. Horovitz and Rabin 1960: 326.
5. Finkelstein 1969: 25, 113.
6. Sifra 1862: 86a, 89a.
7. Kister 1997: 14, 16.
8. Sperber 1979: m, n^-CO^.
9. Ginsberg 1950: 430; Lindenberger 1983.
366

"My lord is a fool, and I am wise"; but take hold of him in his faults
and you will be loved.'10
8. Any 5.2: 'Do not say: "I am young to be taken." For you do not know
your death'. Cf. Any 6.8; Amenemope 6.18-19; 19.18-23; 22.1-2, 3-4
(five more instances).''
9. Ankhsheshonq 8.3: 'Do not say: "I am learned." Set your self to be
learned.' Cf. Ankhsheshonq 8.16; 9.11; 14.16; 10.1(7), 2; 11.21-23;
15.5,18; 16.7-8; 17.7; 18.16-11,22; 27 A \(!); 28.2; Pap. Insinger 4.12
(at least 14 additional instances).12
10. Qoh. 7.10: 'Do not say: "How was it, that former times were better
than these?" For not out of wisdom you raised that question.'13
We have thus gathered no fewer than 63 cases of the 'Do not say'
admonition in Wisdom literaturebiblical, Apocryphal, rabbinical, as
well as ancient Near Eastern. In the latter the Egyptian occurrences predominate, no less than 21, and 2 additional cases from Ahiqar, 1 from the
Aramaic version and 1 from the Syriac. To my knowledge, no instances
show up in Mesopotamian Wisdom, either Sumerian or Akkadian.14 This
finding constitutes an additional point of contact between biblical and Egyptian Wisdom. Noteworthy is the concomitance of Ben Sira and Ankhsheshonqboth belonging to Hellenistic timesregarding the augmented use
of the formula 'Do not say'. This points to contacts between Siracides and
Demotic Wisdom, although the character of this relationship is still debated
among scholars.15
The constitutive elements of this sapiential admonition appear to be the
following: (a) the sage addresses a disciple or a layman; (b) he commences
with the formula 'do not say' which actually means 'do not think/believe
that...'; (c) then the sage quotes an erroneous opinion, usually coined in
personal terms. In Sir. 15.11, for instance, the quote does not say 'transgressions come from God', but rather: 'from God is my transgression'; the
same pattern occurs very frequently elsewhere; (d) then the sage responds,
usually introducing his argument with 'for' CD) or the like.
The opening 'do not say' does not always have the function of reporting
10. Conybeare, Harris and Smith 1913: 105. At this point, they translated ttrhm as
'you shall obtain mercy'.
11. Lichtheim 1976: 135-63.
12. Lichtheim 1980: 159-217.
13. NJPSV is followed in part.
14. I have checked the material found in Gordon (1959) 1968; Gordon 1957;
Gordon 1960; Lambert 1960.
15. Sanders 1983; aliter Lichtheim 1983; Harrington 1994.
ROFE The Wisdom Formula'Do Not Say...'
367
a fallacious opinion. At times the phrase refers to an actual discourse and

not to a belief, as for example in Prov. 3.28: 'Do not say to your fellow
"Come back again, I will give tomorrow" when you have it with you.' Or
in Sir. 31(34).31: 'At a banquet of wine, do not rebuke a friend, and grieve
him not in his joy; do not say to him a reproachful word and do not afflict
him in the presence of people'.16 Yet, the fact remains that in the great
majority of its occurrences the expression 'do not say' is used as a terminus technicus to confute a mistaken opinion. A border case obtains in
Sir. 31 (34). 12: 'My son, if you sit at a lord's table, do not open your throat
on it, do not say "There is plenty on it"; remember how harmful miserliness is'.'7 Here, indeed, the formula 'do not say' refers to a thought, but a
transient one, not a rooted opinion.
The secondary use of the 'do not say' pattern, as made in Sir. 31(34). 12,
shows how recurrent this formula was with Ben Sira. He employed it extensively, at times with slight variations. Side by side with the short advisory
formulain both its substantiated and unsubstantiated formBen Sira
introduced a double reasoning followed by a single answer (11.23-25) or
even a four-stich series (5.1-6). Moreover, twice we find the formula prefacing full-fledged theological sermons (15.11;16.17) whereby it departs
from its original setting as basic advicein dialogue formto become
part of a new context: the elaborated wisdom sermon. The fact that in Sir.
15.11-20 we have two answers spoken by the sagea short one formulated as a proverb together with an extensive sermonalso witnesses to
this secondary use.
Yet the widespread usage Ben Sira made of this formula should not be
considered a hallmark of personal style. The formula became embedded
in Jewish wisdom tradition, as evidenced by its recurrence in Tannaitic
sources. On the other hand, its early origin is attested by a source generally
considered as one of the oldest in biblical narrative, the Succession
Document. In 2 Sam. 13.32 we read:
But Jonadab, the son of David's brother Shimah, said, 'Let not my lord say:
"All the boys, the king's sons have been killed". For only Amnon is dead;
for this has been decided by Absalom ever since his sister Tamar was
violated.'
16. The translation is based on Box and Oesterley 1968: 423-24; Segal 1971-72:
ad loc. has been consulted.
17. I have rephrased the translation, taking into account Edersheim's note, as
reported by Box and Oesterley (preceding note), and the primary meaning of 'good/
evil eye' in Biblical and Rabbinical Hebrew.
368
Addressing David as 'my lord', 'the king', necessitated the phrasing in

third person singular. Were it not for this, the phrasing would comply with
the pattern known to us: 'Do not say: "All the boys, my sons have been
killed", ..."O ../D', that is, quoting a dictum coined in personal terms,
followed by a double "*3, two answers doing away with the erroneous
assertion. In early monarchical times we already find the formula in its
classical form.
One may note here what happens to a distinctive Wisdom formula when
it is quoted in an extraneous context. The next verse, 2 Sam. 13.33, runs:
'Therefore, let not my lord the king nurture the thought ("13113 *? ^ D^fo)
that all the king's sons have died, for 03) Amnon alone is dead'. The gist
of v. 32 is repeated, but the phrase 'Do not say' has been substituted with
an expression meaning 'Do not think'. A technical Wisdom formula has
been rephrased for non-professional readers.
A similar phenomenon can be observed in Hos. 7.2 ('Let them not say
to their hearts...') and in Deut. 9.4a, 5 ('Do not say in your heart... ').18
While the passage in Hosea is somewhat obscure, the one in Deuteronomy
is a clear instance of a false opinion being discarded in favor of the right
one. Here again the Wisdom formula 'Do not say' has been expanded for
the benefit of a non-professional public. This case of stylistic impact exercised by Wisdom circles upon Deuteronomy can be added to the evidence
concerning themes and contents collected by scholars in the past.19
The detection of the 'Do not say' instruction offers some clear exegetical gains in two prophetical passages. Let us consider each of the cases:
Jer. 1.7: 'Do not say "I am still a boy", for you will go wherever I send
you, and speak whatever I command you'. On first reading this answer of
the Lord seems to silence Jeremiah's scruples with a sheer imposition.20
Yet if we have here a preset formula employed in theoretical discussions,
what we should look for in the Lord's reply is a substantiation refuting the
prophet's objection. What the Lord says is that Jeremiah being only a boy
is of no consequence, since it is not for him to decide where he shall go,
nor is it up to him to determine what he is to say.21 The Hebrew word
18. Deut. 9.4b is a textual expansion due to homoeoteleuton (cf. Weiss 1995, dealing with similar cases). It is not represented by LXXB. Strangely enough the fact has
been overlooked in the BH and the BHS. Wevers in his edition of the LXX has v. 4b
printed in the text (Wevers 1977: adloc.).
19. Weinfeld 1972 and the strictures of Rofe 2002: 221 -30.
20. Duhm 1901; Rudolph 1968.
21. Up to a certain point David Kimchi's commentary reflects this explanation.
369
order in this sentenceopening with verbs that emphasize the Lord's part
in Jeremiah's mission sustains this conclusion.
Isa. 56.3-7: 'Let not the foreigner say. . .and let not the eunuch say. . . For
thus said the Lord'. Identifying the Wisdom formula enables us to determine the extent of this prophetic unit. It has been suggested that 56. 1-2 are
separate from vv. 3-8,22 in spite of the Sabbath theme which unifies w. 18. Now the phrasetfJIDN"HttJN (happy is the man) is typical of Wisdom literature;23 thus we may presume that vv. 1-2 and 3-8 are not only thematically of a piece, but are also unified by their belonging to the same literary
genre. This is the word of the Lord interwoven with Wisdom saws. From a
form-critical point of view the discussion formula in Isa. 56.3-7 has lost its
original purpose: it no longer serves as a theoretical refutation of an
erroneous assumption; here it introduces the words 'Thus said the Lord',
which by their very authority resolve the problem.
II
We have already indicated the presence of the 'Do not say' admonition in
Qoh. 7.10. The phrasing is not unexpected since we are dealing with an
exponent of Wisdom, flourishing probably during the Egyptian domination
of Judea, not long before the other Jewish sage, Ben Sira. Taking these
data into account, we will now look into the difficult phrase in Qoh. 5.5:
And do not say before the angel that/because. . .
Commentators usually translate "[Nân as 'messenger', 'envoy' and, relating him to the preceding verses, which deal with the payment of vows,
they take the 'envoy' to be a kind of exactor, perhaps a priest, coming on
behalf of the Temple to collect the debt.24 Yet such an interpretation is
rather forced. In the Hebrew Bible, when ""[N^Q refers to a human messenger this understanding is always justified by the context. Late writings
apply the title "[N ^0 to prophets (Isa. 44.26; Hag. 1.13; Mai. 1 . 1 ; 2 Chron.
22. Westermann 1966: adloc.

23. Baumgartner 1914:167;Zimmerli 1933: 185-86n. 1,contraHurvitz 1991:1921. It is not only the occurrence of an expression in a literary corpus that determines its
pertaining to a literary genre, but its significance as well. Statistics may be misleading.
24. Besides the well-known commentaries in the various series I have consulted the
following: Luzzarto [1912-13] 1969-70; Lartes 1964; Ginsberg 1961; Castelli 1866. Cf.
also: Spangenberg 1998; Hieke 1998. Both these studies refer to previous literature.
370
36. 1 5; Ps. 1 5 1 .4 [Lxx]25) or to priests (Mai. 2.7; 3.1 -4); however, in doing
so they mostly emphasize that prophets or priests are more than common
people. One may sincerely doubt whether Qohelet would refer to an emissary of the Temple as a "JNÊ. Let us, then, hold on to Jerome's translation, angelus, and see where it will lead us.
Following the patterns of the formula identified above, one should begin
by punctuating the phrase in a different way:
And do not say: 'Before the angel', for. . .
However, if we take into account that the contested opinion is so often

reported in personal terms (1st pers. sing.), it is advisable to vocalize "^sb
accordingly: not "'D.sb but ^s'p, translating it as follows:
And do not say: 'Before me there is an angel', for this is an error.
It is not surprising that Qohelet advances such an idea. The God of

Qohelet is a kind ofdeus absconditus, who does not manifest himself and
does not communicate with humanity.26 Thus, in the pericope under discussion (4.17-5.6) as well one reads: 'God is in heaven and you are
on earth; that is why your words should be few' (5.1). Besides, some of
Qohelet's positions have been defined, rightly in my opinion, as protoSadducean, as for instance his negation of the immortality of the soul
(3. 19-2 1).27 And from Acts 23.8 one learns that the Sadducees negated
resurrection and the existence of angels and spirits, while the Pharisees
98
upheld both these beliefs. Therefore, the interpretation of Qoh. 5.5 advanced above conforms with what we could expect this author to profess.
At this point it is worth recalling that a trend of opposition to the belief
in angels existed in Israel since late pre-exilic times. The D document in
the Pentateuch accurately avoided all mention of angels when in Deuteronomy 6-7 it paraphrased and restated the divine promises of Exod.
23.20-33. The same was done later by P in Exod. 12.13: it omitted all
reference to the destroying angel indicated by an older source in Exod.
12.23. Thus, both major theological-historiographical schools of Israel
suppressed the mention of the actions and the very existence of angels.29
25. Sanders 1965: 54-64. As against angelos of LXX the Hebrew scroll presents
26.
27.
28.
29.
D'Alark>2001.
Levy 1912.
Zeitlin 1964.
For a discussion and preceding literature, I refer the reader to Rofe 1 979: passim.
371
This kind of suppression should be attributed to a rigorous monotheism

that considered angels as a remnant of heathen beliefs, chiefly connected
to the worship of local numina. The Deuteronomic school, operating in the
seventh to the sixth centuries BCE, and the Priestly school, active in the
sixth to the fifth centuries BCE, were still concerned about a possible
resurgence of paganism, that could propose its traditions transvested in
angelological clothing.
Qohelet, who composed his book about the mid-third century BCE,
probably did not oppose the belief in angels on account of its heathen connections. For him this opposition could have been just a legacy inherited
from distant predecessors. At the same time, in the religious milieu of
Qohelet there appeared already new currents, factions and antagonisms:
apocalyptic with its visions-revelations and its eschatological promises
stood as the ultimate antithesis to Qohelet's message; and the means
by which apocalypses were transmitted was exactly that of dreams and
angels.30 In this context, Qohelet's intimation: 'And do not say: "There is
an angel before me", for it is an error' sounds very appropriate. We shall
next see what this author had to sayin this same speechconcerning
dreams.
At this point it is legitimate to ask: if indeed one should vocalize "3B1? as
''jS1?, and translate it 'before me', how did such a reading get lost by
tradition? Is it possible that a vocalization that fits in so well with Wisdom
style and makes such good sense could fall into oblivion? In my view,
there is no lack of cases in the MT in which absolutely natural vocalizations have been substituted by awkward ones.31 Here, however, one should
take into account a distinct factor, a theological one: Qohelet was protoSadducean; his book, however, was passed on by the Pharisaic synagogue.
And the Pharisees did believe in angels; therefore they could hardly
preserve the supposed primary reading and resorted to correction. In the
same way they corrected the reading of ilîun in 3.21, substituting the
interrogative -TI with the determinative. By means of this minor correction, Qohelet's doubt concerning the soul's immortality was eliminated;
the human's spirit ascends to heaven.32
Finally, let us take a look at the entire pericope, Qoh. 4.17-5.6, in order
to consider how the phrase discussed so far suits its context.
30. Rosso Ubigli 1983; Sacchi 1994: 170-71.

31. Rofe 1989.
32. Ginsburg 1897: 461-62.
3 72

4.17. Sacrifice is relativized, since it pertains to the fools. Better to obey
God.
5.1. Prayer too is relativized. God is lofty, one should not importune Him
with hasty words.
5.2. Dreaming is caused by much brooding, just as the fool's speech
comes with many words.
5.3. A vow, once proffered, must be paid in time, unlike the practice of
the fools; probably, the fool, scared by a bad dream, hurries to formulate a vow, from which he later withdraws.
5.4. Vows too are relativized: it is better not to utter a vow than to vow
without paying (the vows were in the first place promises of donations to the Temple).
5.5a. The first admonition, 'do not let your mouth make your body sin',
still warns against hasty vows; the second one negates angelophanies.
(These as well may be part of the fools' reveries.)
5.5b. Motivation of the first injunction: God punishes on account of unpaid
vows, damaging the property of the perjurer.
5.6. Motivation of the second injunction: 'Much dreaming (with related
angelophanies) leads to futility and to superfluous talk' (NJPSV).
Such a construction, in which two instructions are followed by two

motivations, each of the motivations being related to one injunction, and
following in the same order (a.b.a.b.), is not uncommon in biblical style.
There are several similar cases.33
Exod. 29.27: (a) the breast of the wave offering (b) and the thigh of the
heave offering, (a) which has been waved (b) and which has been heaved
up... (KJV, mainly).
Deut. 14.24: (a) Should the distance be too great for you, (b) should you be
unable to transport them, (a) because the place ... is far from you, (b)
because the Lord your God has blessed you (mainly NJPSV).
Ps. 113.6-7: Who is like the Lord our God: (a) enthroned on high, (b) He
sees what is below, (a) in heaven (b) and on earth (NJPSV mainly).
Qohelet too adopted this construction in 4.13-14:

Better (a) a poor but wise youth than (b) an old but foolish king... (a) for he
can emerge from a dungeon to become king, (b) for even being a king he
can become a pauper (adapted from NJPSV).
The sequence of Qoh. 5.5-6 can be interpreted in the same way.
33. The following instances have been noted by Ehrlich 1905: 286; Ehrlich 1914:
71-72.
373
III
I would like to conclude this short contribution with a brief reflection on

the text, exegesis and theology of Qohelet. The text of this book has been
transmitted, here as elsewhere in the Bible, by scribes who often dissented
from the opinions expressed by the author. As a result the original message of the author has been dimmed by tendentious vocalizations, pious
corrections and additions introduced by epigones.34 It is not always possible to recuperate the primary readings which conveyed the original message. But at times we may try, assisted by the knowledge accumulated so
far about biblical diction and the style of its literary genres. A confirmation
is then provided by the plausibility of the reading. Therefore, the constitutio
textus does not precede the exegetical work, but rather is an integral part
of it. Then, from the combined results of textual criticism and exegesis we
obtain an understanding of Qohelet's ideas, of his theology. Once a theologoumenon has been retrieved, its affinity with other ideas expressed in the
book offers us further confirmation that textual criticism and exegesis have
led us on the right way. Thus, I would like to insist on a postulate that in
the past was universally accepted: the study of a text, its exegesis and the
inquiry into its religious thought should not be kept distinct from each
other, rather they go hand in hand. The philological discipline is one and
the same, in the study of Qohelet as in the study of all ancient texts.35
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MEASURABLE AND IMMEASURABLE:

THEMES IN OLD TESTAMENT THEOLOGY*
John W. Rogerson
If your brother, a Hebrew man, or a Hebrew woman, is sold to you, he shall

serve you six years, and in the seventh year you shall let him go free from
you. And when you let him go free from you, you shall not let him go
empty-handed; you shall furnish him liberally out of your flock, out of your
threshing floor, and out of your wine press... But if he says to you, 'I will
not go out from you', because he loves you and your household, since he
fares well with you, then you shall take an awl, and thrust it through his ear
into the door, and he shall be your bondman forever. And to your bondwoman you shall do likewise (Deut. 15.12-14a, 16-17).
This passage combines what the title of this essay calls the measurable and
the immeasurable. On the one hand are the precise, that is, measurable,
instructions about the period of service of slaves. Slaves, male and female,
may serve as slaves for no longer than six years. If they decide to give up
their right to freedom, then a ceremony must be enacted, presumably in public (in the parallel passage in Exod. 21.6 it is carried out before Elohim
either God or judges), in which an awl is thrust through the would-be perpetual slave's ear, pinning him or her to the door. On the other hand there
is the immeasurable, in the form of the command to the master to furnish
the freed slave liberally out of his flock, his threshing floor and his wine
press. No quantities are specified. Instead, there is a most expressive phrase
in the Hebrew 1^ pÛfl (TDUH (ha'aneq ta'aniq 16), which the lexicons
connect with the noun <anaq necklace, and which BDB translates as 'thou
shalt make a rich necklace for him from thy flock, etc'. The English rendering 'furnish him liberally' seems tame in comparison.
Before I proceed further, let me explain what I am trying to do. For a
number of years I have been thinking about how to write an Old Testament
A slightly edited version of the Ethel M. Wood Lecture delivered in the University of London on 12 March 2002.
378
theology, prior to actually writing one, and have tried a number of experiments, of which this essay will be an example. In what I intend to do, I shall
be deliberately breaking a number of rules that have come to be associated
with the enterprise of writing an Old Testament theology. First, I shall be
imposing alien categories upon the Old Testament. If I am asked, 'Did the
biblical writers think in terms of the measurable and the immeasurable?' I
shall have to answer, 'Probably not'. Secondly, I shall be treating the Old
Testament as a synchronic corpus, that is, as a collection of texts that can
be read as a whole, whereas the tradition of Old Testament theologies is that
they should treat the Old Testament diachronically, that is, as texts that have
a long history of growth and development that represents varying stages in
the formation of Israelite religious belief. Third, I have used the word 'theology' in the singular, whereas the latest thinking maintains that it is possible only to speak of'Theologies', not 'Theology' in the Old Testament.
In my concluding remarks I shall try to justify my determination to swim
against the current. Before that, however, I shall discuss some more examples of what I call the measurable and the immeasurable.
In Deut. 21.1 -9 an elaborate ceremony is prescribed in a case where the
body of someone who has been killed is found in open country, and the
murderer is unknown. The elders and judges decide, by measuring, which
city is the nearest city to the spot where the body was found. The elders of
this city then take over and follow very precise instructions. They take a
heifer that has never been made either to work or to bear a yoke and bring
it to a valley with running water that is neither ploughed nor sown. The
neck of the heifer is broken and the elders wash their hands over the heifer
whose neck has been broken. They testify that 'Our hands did not shed this
blood, neither did our eyes see it shed'. There follows a prayer in which
God is requested not to hold the people responsible for the guilt of the
blood of the murdered man.
This elaborate ritual is an instance of what I call the measurable. It is very
precise and unambiguous. Its purpose is to deal with the immeasurable. A
dead body in open country implies lawlessness and the immeasurable forces
of human anger and violence. Even greater than these immeasurable human
forces is the divine anger, which, it was believed, would be unleashed if the
guilt attaching to the unlawful shedding of blood were not dealt with. 'The
voice of your brother's blood is crying to me from the ground', says God
to Cain in Gen. 4.10, after Cain has killed his brother Abel, in a passage
that likewise expresses the belief that homicide unleashes divine power
that is dangerous to humans and to the land. Exactly how the breaking of
ROGERSON Measurable and Immeasurable
379
the neck of the heifer in the particular way specified was thought to contain or satisfy the immeasurable in its divine aspect (the murderer is still at
large) is not stated, and can only be surmised. Many theories have been
proposed. According to one view the heifer is a substitute for the unknown
murderer, and is killed instead of him or her. The site is specially chosen
so that the stream in the valley will carry away any blood that is released
when the heifer is killed, and it will not matter if blood falls upon land that
is not cultivated (Driver 1902: 241-42). Another view explains the procedure as an acted oath according to the formula: 'may what has been done
to the heifer also be done to the elders if they are lying'; or, assuming a
different formula, 'as the heifer is destroyed, so may the curse that lies upon
the community and land be destroyed' (Janowski 1982: 163-66). One, or
more than one, of these theories may be correctI say more than one,
because people observing or carrying out ritual acts can understand them
in different waysbut there is also a sense in which I believe that they are
all mistaken. They all imply that the immeasurable can be contained by the
measurable in a way that makes logical sense (to us). My own view is that
such rituals are intended to deal with community anxiety or insecurity.
Such anxiety or insecurity takes many forms and fastens upon particular
events or circumstances which then serve as a focus for the community's
fears. It is not necessary for a ritual to provide a logical answer to how it
deals with a particular event that focuses anxiety. It is enough that the ritual
exists (however it came into being), and that it is carried out meticulously.
The performance of the measurable ritual helps to contain the immeasurable
anxiety focused in a specific happening. The community breathes again, for
a while, and also performs other rituals that address other circumstances in
which the community's fears find their focus.
Rituals are ways in which the measurable, in the form of carefully prescribed procedures, deal with the immeasurable, in the form of the events
and circumstances which focus the ever-present anxiety and insecurity of a
community. However, there are instances in which no rituals exist to cope
with a people's insecurity, and the result is a breakdown in community
life, and the rejection of both human leadership and religious belief. This
is strikingly illustrated in the Old Testament narratives of the wilderness
wanderings in the books of Exodus and Numbers.
Recent research into the composition of the Pentateuchal narratives has
suggested that we must think of a set of blocks of independent narratives,
which were combined into a coherent story after the destruction of the
Northern Kingdom, Israel, in 722/721, and which were then continuously
3 80
supplemented by priestly and other additions well into the post-exilic period (Kratz 2000). On this view, 'Israel's itinerary in the wilderness' was
both an independent story and a story of Israel's founding, as were the
stories, with different emphases, of Abraham and Jacob. The 'itinerary
story' originally encompassed Exodus 16-18 and Numbers 10-16; 21;
25.1, and it was rilled with additional episodes as time went on (Kratz
2000: 302).
The 'itinerary story' can be read in various ways. From one angle, it is
the account of the persistent refusal of a founding generation of Israelites
to be faithful to God, in spite of miracles performed on their behalf. From
another angle, it details the problems and costs of leadership of the Israelite
people. Moses bears the brunt of the people's complaints and of the divine
indignation against the people that their behaviour provokes; and it seems
to be grossly unfair that Moses is denied entry into the promised land when
he reaches the journey's end. However, I intend to look at the itinerary story
in a completely different way, one that presumably cannot have been among
the intentionalites of the compilers and glossators of the narratives. My
angle is that of seeing the tradition from the point of view of the immeasurable anxieties of the people who found themselves in the wilderness.
Forced labour in Egypt cannot have been a pleasant way of life; yet it
was, to use a term of the sociologist Zygmunt Bauman, solid. It had aims
(to complete particular building or engineering tasks) and it had routines.
Tasks would be allotted to particular groups of people (e.g. women and
children) and there would be set routines. Food may well have been provided by the overseers, since a labour force cannot both produce the food
it needs to eat and also spend the working day constructing buildings.
Life in the wilderness would be liquid, to use another of Bauman's striking terms. The wilderness was not desert. It could support small numbers of
sheep and goats during the rainy winter; and as the incidents of the manna
and the quails indicate, certain plants and certain exhausted migrating
birds could provide food. Supplies of fresh water would always be a problem, of course. However, compared with the routines of settled life, even
the settled life of forced labour, journeying through the wilderness to an
unknown destination would involve living a way of life from which many
familiar landmarks were missing. The potential for experiencing anxiety
and insecurity, for which no containing rituals existed, would be immeasurable.
At the beginning of the itinerary story, in Exod. 16.1 -3, the people yearn
for Egypt, on the ground that 'we sat by the fleshpots and ate bread to the
381
full'. That was a 'solid' experience of assured routine and sustenance. The
food was provided; in the wilderness it has to be sought. God's answer is
to provide the manna and the quails. The account deliberately anticipates
the Sabbath law, which will be promulgated later in Exodus, in ch. 20. During the week food gathered on one day does not last until the next morning
without breeding worms and becoming foul. However, on the sixth day the
Israelites are instructed to gather enough food for two days, so that they do
not have to gather on the seventh day. The outcome is predictable. Some
people simply do not believe that the food gathered on the sixth day will
keep until the seventh day. After all, it has not previously remained eatable
for more than twenty-four hours. They go out looking for food on the seventh day, to no avail. God is angry because the people have refused to keep
his commandments and laws; but, looked at from the point of the people's
insecurity, this behaviour is understandable. In today's world, a threatened
shortage of petrol or food, and official exhortations not to hoard, will almost
inevitably result in hoarding on the part of those who can afford to do so. It
is a natural human reaction to hedge one's bets when there is real uncertainty about where the next meal might be coming from.
Exodus 17 deals with two more uncertainties likely to be met in the liquid
situation of the wilderness: lack of water and the presence of enemies.
Again, there is a contrast between the solidity of Egypt and the insecurity
of the wilderness. 'Why did you bring us up out of Egypt, to kill us and our
children and our cattle with thirst?' (Exod. 17.3). This is the Massah and
Meribah incident, the names meaning 'proof and 'contention'. The location of this incident is named Massah and Meribah because of the way the
Israelites put God to the proof, and the incident is referred to in Psalm 95.
Its prime manifestation is, in the words of the Israelites, 'Is the LORD among
us or not?' From one angle, this is an incredible statement, seeing that God
had delivered the Israelites from slavery and from the Egyptians and had
fed them with manna and quails. From the point of view of immeasurable
uncertainty, it is not such a surprising attitude. In cases of extreme anxietyand the fear of dying from thirst in an unknown and inhospitable
environment is likely to give rise to such anxietyit is not unknown for
the faith of the most devout believers to give way to doubt and outright
denial concerning the goodness or even the existence of God. And the
Israelites are not especially devout believers, but ordinary people seeking to
survive. It is not surprising that they doubt God's integrity and are almost
ready to stone Moses. The second incident in Exodus 17, the attack mounted
on the Israelites by the Amalekites, produces no complaint from the people.
382
Like any threatened group they fight for their existence. In its present form,
the story ascribes the Israelite victory to the fact that Moses, holding his
rod, extended his hands to heaven, and that his hands, when they grew
weary, were supported by Aaron and Hur.
Exodus 18 features another aspect of life bound to cause anxiety, and
which requires action, the settling of disputes. This occupies the time of
Moses from morning to evening, and requires disputants to stand for long
periods of time waiting for their turn to come. The situation is rectified on
the advice of Moses' father-in-law, Jethro, and involves appointing trustworthy men to take a part in settling the disputes, with only the hardest
cases coming to Moses. A potentially immeasurable situation is made more
measurable.
The accounts of the itinerary story that come in the book of Numbers
repeat some of the incidents that have already been noted. In Numbers 11
the people complain about the monotonous diet of manna (in Egypt the
diet allegedly included fish, cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic)
and are sent quails. Embedded in this story is an account of how seventytwo elders are appointed to assist Moses in his task of leading the people.
Several new issues arise, however. The first is that of the leadership of
Moses. Human anxiety is such that it is easy to believe that a change of
leadership will bring an improvement in a people's fortunes, even if past
experience has proved such hopes to be false time and again. The first
attempted coup is led by Moses' brother Aaron and his sister Miriam, and
the occasion for the coup is of particular interest. Moses has married a
Cushite woman, that is, a woman from Ethiopia, who was probably black.
It is common for the anxieties of a community to become focused upon
foreigners or minorities, and for misfortunes to be associated with the
presence of what are regarded as aliens. This has been the fate of the Jewish people down the centuries. In Numbers 12 the foreign, and possibly
alien-looking, woman whom Moses has married becomes the excuse for
an attempt to depose Moses. The other attempt to oppose Moses' authority
is led by four men, Korah, Dathan, Abiram and On, supported by 250 leaders of the congregation. They accuse Moses and Aaron of having too much
authority over the community. Difficult situations, it is often believed, can
be improved not only by a change of leadership but also by a change of
system of government. From the point of view of the consistency of the
narrative, the claim against Moses is unfair. He has already appointed
judges and elders to assist in the leadership. But human uncertainties can
easily overlook consistency, especially if people with a taste for leadership
believe that they can do it better than those currently in control.
383
A separate issue is that of the nature of the promised land and the strategy for taking possession of it. Numbers 13 and 14 record the sending of
twelve spies to inspect the promised land and to bring back a report. The
extent of the anxiety of the community can be readily appreciated. Occupation of the land will bring an end to journeying, an end to the liquid situation in which the Israelites find themselves. Life will become solid again;
but will the solidity live up to expectations? What are the expectations of a
people that has known solid slavery and liquid freedom, but never solid
freedom? The outcome is not surprising. Ten of the twelve spies bring
back an alarming report:
The land, through which we have gone, to spy it out, is a land that devours its
inhabitants; and all the people that we saw in it are men of great stature. And
there we saw the Nephilim (the sons of Anak, who come from the Nephilim);
and we seemed to ourselves like grasshoppers, and so we seemed to them
(Num. 13.32-33).
The response of the people is to raise a loud cry and to weep all night. The
folly of having left Egypt is bemoaned, and it is proposed that a captain
should be chosen to lead the people back to Egypt. Only an intervention
by Joshua and Caleb, backed by a display of divine power which includes
a plague that is fatal to the pessimistic spies, prevents a revolt.
Before I sum up my treatment of the itinerary story, let me state what I
have been trying to do in expounding it in this way. It may appear that
I have been treating the narratives in a pre-critical, or totally uncritical
fashionreading them as though they were historical accounts of incidents that actually occurred during the wilderness wanderings. This has not
been my intention. I began from the literary-critical view that there is a literary complex that is called the itinerary story, which was composed over
a long period of time, and which was intended as a founding story about
the Israelites. It consists of a series of plausible incidents that could affect
a group of people travelling through a wildernessthe anxious search for
food and water, encounters with enemies, dissensions within the community about the style and effectiveness of leadership, worries about the land
that is the goal of the journeying. In the story as we have it, its main purpose is to illustrate the lack of faith in God displayed by the people when
faced with these crises. By applying the device of 'point of view' to the
story (Berlin 1983:43-82), I have sought to add a dimension to it, by drawing attention to the human anxieties that would be present in such situations, and which would inevitably lead to profound doubts within the community about the ability of its God or leader to bring them safely through.
384
In other words, I have tried to be on the side of the anxious and bewildered
Israelites, rather than on the side of the theological writers who have given
the story its final shape and purpose; and my reason for doing this has
been to point out a paradox in human behaviour when confronted by the
immeasurable.
I pointed out earlier how Old Testament rituals can be seen as attempts
to contain the immeasurable by means of the measurable, as attempts to
deliver a community from anxiety stemming from occurrences such as unsolved murders, or anything else that could be related to dangerous forces
beyond the understanding or control of the community. Part of the security
generated by rituals lay precisely in their measurednessin the very precise details of what was prescribed. The point of talking about the itinerary
story has been to show that there are areas of life where human insecurity
can become so great that no miracle, ritual, or even fear of God can overcome it. In my exposition of the itinerary story I have deliberately underplayed the extent to which the incidents involve divine miracles. Each crisis
is resolved by a miracle, sometimes to the detriment of the people. I now
draw attention to these to make the point that, in certain situations, human
insecurity can be so great that even a series of miracles can do nothing to
enable a community to face a new crisis successfully. We thus have an interesting situation. On the one hand, confrontation with the immeasurable
in the form of forces that are believed to threaten a community indirectly
(e.g. an unsolved murder) is coped with through detailed ritual. On the
other hand, confrontation with the immeasurable in the form of incidents
that threaten a community directly (e.g. dying of hunger and thirst in the
wilderness) results in continuing anxiety that cannot be alleviated even by
miraculous interventions.
I want now to return to Deuteronomy 15, where I contrasted the measurable, in the form of the limitation of the period of slavery to six years
together with the ear-boring ceremony if a slave wishes to remain so for
life, with the immeasurable, in the form of the command to the master to
furnish the freed slave liberally with animals, grain and wine. I now want
to extend the contrast in a different direction by asking how it was that a
person might become a slave in the first place. The question confronts us
with another instance of the immeasurable, in the form of the vicissitudes
that could affect the subsistence farmer in ancient Israel.
The Old Testament provides us with many examples of these vicissitudes. The word 'famine' occurs a hundred times in the Hebrew Bible.
Amos 4 mentions drought, blight and mildew, while Joel 1.4 provides a
385
terrifying picture of the cutting locust, the swarming locust, the hopping
locust and the destroying locust. Jeremiah gives an agonizing description
of a land devastated by war, of a land deserted by humans and birds, its
fruitful lands a desert and its cities laid in ruins (Jer. 4.23-28). As if these
possibilities were not bad enough, illness, death or injury could always impair the man- and womanpower of an agricultural unit, as could the imposition of taxes upon those who lived close to centres of administration. In
some of the circumstances just described, rich and poor, powerful and
weak, would fare equally badly. In other instances, given the inequalities of
life, the rich and powerful would survive to take advantage of the poor and
weak. They might join house to house and field to field, to use the memorable phrase from Isa. 5.8. Those who lost their lands through debt would
become, first, day labourers on their own former holdings, and, finally,
slaves. The law restricting slavery to six years is a move of the measurable
to contain some of the immeasurable circumstances that might drive people into slavery. It is the measurable, not in terms of ritual, but in terms of
humanitarian action. I shall come back to this after I have reflected further
on what has been attempted in this essay.
Historically, Old Testament theology has been an attempt to describe
what people believed in Old Testament times. This is particularly clear
from the definitions and results put forward by the pioneers of the discipline in the nineteenth century.1 Writers of Old Testament theologies have
rarely attempted to emulate systematic theologians or even to imagine that
they could provide material for systematic theologians. In the latest discussions it has been argued that the word 'theology' should be replaced by
'religion', and that only histories of Israelite religion should be written
(Albertz 1992: 32-38). In the recently-published Theologien im Alien Testament by Erhard Gerstenberger an attempt has been made to document
the variety of the beliefs that were held in ancient Israel, the 'official religion', reflected in the Old Testament, being the creation of an upper-class
male elite that came to dominate the exilic and post-exilic community
following the destruction of Judah by the Babylonians in 597 and 587 BCE
(Gerstenberger 2001: 174).
From the point of view of academic research, the right of scholars to do
this work and publish their conclusions needs no justification; and if I say
1. See, for example, Steudel 1840: 1: 'Die Theologie des alten Testaments 1st die
systematische Ubersicht der religiosen Vorstellungen, welche wir in den Schriften des
ATdie Apokryphen mil eingeschlossenniedergelegt finden.'
386
that I do not find these results particularly helpful for understanding the
Old Testament in the context of today's world, their authors are perfectly
justified in saying that they have no obligation to try to help me in this
way. The question that concerns me is whether their strictly historical and
descriptive approach is the only possibility, or whether there are other
ways of handling the Old Testament that may help us to understand it, and
understand ourselves, better in the context of today's world. This is what I
have been thinking about and experimenting with for a number years, and
I have reached the following conclusions, among others.
First, while I am well aware of the dangers of essentialism, that is, the
view that there is a part of humankind that is essential and unchanging
regardless of time, place, environment, class and gender, I am struck by the
way in which modern accounts of the human condition can make sense of
parts of the Old Testament. In discussing the itinerary story I borrowed the
terms 'liquid' and 'solid' from ZygmuntBauman's Liquid Modernity published in 2000. By 'solid', Bauman means the institutions that existed forty
years ago in Britain in the form of heavy industry (coal mining, steel, ship
building), mass employers such as the motor industry, and careers that one
reckoned would last for a person's working life. The liquid condition includes the contemporary absence of mass-employment industries, the
casualization of work by means of a quest for 'flexible' labour forces, and
contempt and ridicule for the very idea of a 'job for life'. Bauman's
distinction seemed to me to fit admirably the difference between being
employed as forced labourers on building projects in Egypt and living a
precarious life journeying through the wilderness. If insights from modern
accounts of the human dilemma can be usefully applied to parts of the Old
Testament, this establishes a link between those passages and the world
we inhabit.
Second, given that it is acknowledged that texts have latent meaning, or
implications beyond what their authors may have envisaged, I believe that
it is appropriate to look at Old Testament texts in the way that I tried to do
with the itinerary story. By using the strategy of 'point of view' I read the
incidents from the angle of a community suddenly faced with the loss of
all the things that had waymarked their lives up to that point, even if their
lives had been those of forced labourers. I tried to indicate the way in
which such loss of certainty would produce a level of insecurity that not
even repeated miracles would be able to satisfy.
Third, such literary strategies may be a way of gaining access to an implied theology possessed by texts. The itinerary story has been classified,
387
as already mentioned, as a founding story of Israel (Kratz 2000: 294). Its

portrait of the people thus formed into a nation is unflattering, and it may
well be both based on, and intended in the literature as an anticipation of,
the tragedies that overwhelmed the nation, tragedies attributed by the tradition to the people's lack of faith in Godthe loss of the Northern Kingdom, Israel, in 722/721 and the destruction of the temple in 587. But it is
possible to interpret the story in another way, in that the nation was founded
and fashioned out of a people whose insecurities were so great that not even
miracles and punishments could secure their compliance. There must therefore have been another, mysterious or immeasurable, force at work, a divine
force, to achieve the humanly improbable, namely, the forming and maintaining of the people. Even if such a belief was not foremost in the minds
of the compilers and editors of the itinerary story, I believe that it can be
argued that this is what was implied in the way that the tradition was
developed and placed. Why should so much stress be placed upon the unfittedness of the generation freed from slavery to become the instrument of
God's purposes, if there was not also the belief that God's resources had
been able to deal with their waywardnessesand not just by allowing only
their offspring to occupy the promised land?
Fourth, and turning now to Deuteronomy 15, the passage dealing with
the service and the release of slaves, I have drawn attention over a number
of years to the importance of the imitation of God as the reason for certain
types of humanitarian action (Rogerson 1995). I deliberately omitted reference to this factor earlier; I highlight it now. Two reasons are given in vv.
14 and 15 for furnishing the freed slave liberally with goods. The first
is 'as the LORD your God has blessed you, you shall give to him'. The
second is 'You shall remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt,
and the LORD your God redeemed you'. The generous and immeasurable
response of the master is to be an imitation of the immeasurable generosity
of God. A world in which people lose their freedom because of the immeasurable vicissitudes that can afflict them is unacceptable to God. The immeasurable must be contained by a measurable period of slavery, followed
by immeasurable generosity in the slave's place so that he or she can be
given the best possible new start. The point is made even more forcibly in
the passage about the treatment of slaves in Leviticus 25:
[T]hey are my servants, whom I brought forth out of the land of Egypt; they
shall not be sold as slaves. You shall not rule over him with harshness (vv.
42-43).
388
Those grasped by God's immeasurable mercy are not to become permanent victims of the immeasurable forces, including human greed and insecurity, that deprive them of their freedom.
Fifth, I believe that it is worthwhile using terms such as measurable and
immeasurable to make trial digs, as it were, into the Old Testament to see
what results. It may be that I have used these terms as rather blunt instruments, and that they could do with some refinement. There are all sorts of
places where they could be applied to the Old Testament. In the book of
Job the comforters, with their firm convictions about the reasons for Job's
misfortunes, represent the measurable, while Job himself maintains that no
theory adequately explains the reason for his tragic situation. The divine
speeches in chs. 38 to 41 represent one of the high points of the immeasurable, as Job, and readers of the book, are asked a series of unanswerable
questions and presented with some bizarre facts. Ecclesiastes presents us
with the inscrutable face of the immeasurable, with a world that leads the
writer to conclude that any explanation of why it is as it is is certainly beyond human comprehension (i.e. that it is immeasurable), because its natural
events and the injustices done by the powerful to the weak are so predictable (i.e. measurable). The Psalms, along with their complaints to God
about his inexplicable absence from, or lack of involvement with, the world,
contain sublime expressions of the immeasurable mercy of God.
In his Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity the Canadian political philosopher, Charles Taylor, writes of the importance of the
work of art as providing what he calls an Epiphany.
What remains central [from the Romantic period to the present day] is the
notion of the work of art as issuing from or realising an 'epiphany'... What
I want to capture with this term is just this notion of a work of art as the
locus of a manifestation which brings us into the presence of something
which is otherwise inaccessible, and which is of the highest moral or spiritual significance; a manifestation, moreover, which also defines or completes
something, even as it reveals (Taylor 1989: 415).
Taken as a whole, the Old Testament is certainly a work of art. I would

also claim that it is more than that, that its composition and redaction processes have been filtered through the prolonged struggle of a community
to understand itself in terms of a divine commission, and that through this
filtering process the texts have absorbed profound insights into the nature
of reality and of humankind. But let us remain with the work of art, and
Taylor's description of it as an epiphany, as a locus of a manifestation
which brings us into the presence of something which is otherwise inac-
389
cessible and of the highest moral or spiritual significance. If this is true of

the work of art in general and of the Old Testament in particular, then,
however else it may be possible to write Old Testament theologies, there is
certainly a place for attempts to make readers aware of how the Old Testament can be an instance of epiphany. Perhaps the theme of the measurable
and the immeasurable is not the only, or best, way of trying to do this, but
at least the attempt may be worth making.
Bibliography
Albertz, R.
1992
Bauman, Z.
2000
Berlin, A.
1983
Religionsgeschichte Israels in alttestamentlicher Zeit, I (ATD, Erganzungsreihe 8/1; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht).
Liquid Modernity (Cambridge: Polity Press).
Poetics and Interpretation of Biblical Narrative (Bible and Literature Series,
9; Sheffield: Almond Press).
Driver, S.R.
1902
Deuteronomy (ICC; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark).
Gerstenberger, E.S.
2001
Theologien im Alten Testament: Pluralitdt und Synkretismus alttestamentHchen Gottesglaubens (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer).
Janowski, B.
1982
Siihne als Heilsgeschehen: Studien zur Suhnetheologie der Priesterschrift
undzur Wurzel KPR im Alten Orient und im Alten Testament (WMANT, 55;
Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag).
Kratz, R.G.
2000
Die Komposition der erzahlenden Bucher des A hen Testaments (Gottingen:
Rogerson, J.W.
1995
'Christian Morality and the Old Testament', HeyJ 36: 422-30.
Steudel, J.C.F.
1840
Vorlesungen uber die Theologie des Alten Testaments (Berlin: Reimer).
Taylor, C.
1989
Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).
ISAIAH AND THE JEWS: SOME REFLECTIONS ON THE CHURCH'S

USE OF THE BIBLE*
John F.A. Sawyer
In the story of Isaiah's role in the history of Christianity, 'Isaiah and the
Jews' is certain to be one of the major themes (Sawyer 1996). Nowhere is
this more evident than in literature written by Christians in the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries, including the prediche forzate 'conversionist
sermons' (Roth 1946: 315-17;Milano 1952), preached by officialpredicatori agli Ebrei to Jews forcibly assembled in churches on the Sabbath. The
custom was formally instituted by Pope Gregory XIII in edicts of 1577
and 1584, and continued for the best part of three centuries until Pius IX
put an end to it in 1847. Some of these sermons have survived, mostly in
the vernacular but occasionally in Hebrew, often edited into a more
literary form. This study of the use made of Isaiah in such a context is
presented, with the greatest affection and respect, to a biblical scholar who
has more than most helped to push back the boundaries of his discipline.
The reasons for Isaiah's unique role in this context are not hard to find.
In the first place Christian writers and preachers have traditionally found
in Isaiah many of their most popular prooftexts concerning such central
doctrines as the Trinity, the Incarnation, redemptive suffering and the
Virgin Mary. The Immanuel prophecy in 7.14 and the Suffering Servant
poem in ch. 53 are two of the most obvious examples. But from the very
beginning Christian writers and preachers have found hundreds of others.
In fact Isaiah provided scriptural authority for most Christian beliefs, practices, ways of speaking and institutions long before the New Testament
had become scripture. For example, Clement, Bishop of Rome (c. 90 CE),
quoted Isa. 60.17 as his scriptural authority for bishops. Baptism (1.16;
12.3), the Eucharist (55.1) and the sign of the Cross (5.26; 55.13) are in
Isaiah too. The wolf dwelling with the lamb, swords into ploughshares, the
Research in Rome for this paper was funded in part by the Leverhulme Trust.
SAWYER Isaiah and the Jews
391
voice crying in the wilderness, the light to the nations, the man of sorrows,
good news to the poor, the new heaven and a new earth, Immanuel, the
Key of David, a Mighty God, the Prince of Peace, the very stuff that Christian discourse is made of, all come from Isaiah. Jerome thought Isaiah was
more an evangelist than a prophet because
he describes all the mysteries of Christ so clearly that you would think he is
composing a history of what has already happened rather than prophesying
about what is to come. Indeed it is possible to tell virtually the whole story
of the gospel exclusively in the words of Isaiah (Sawyer 2001).
Nor does this apply only to ancient writers. A modern Italian translation
of the Bible, authorized by the Conferenza Episcopale Italiana (Rome
1996), contains a list of'points for reflection' and Isaiah is everywhere: for
Christ as true God and true man there are seventeen references to Isaiah
(e.g. 8.3; 28.16; 40.9; 42.1; 46.13; 49.1,6,10,20), for the Incarnation five
(e.g. 16.1; 35.4; 53.8), forthe Virgin Mary eight(e.g. 11.1;45.8), including
five to her perpetual virginity (e.g. 35.1,2; 66.7) and one to the assumption
(11.10), seven to the Mass (e.g. 19.19-20; 61.6; 66.19), as well as references to the Holy Spirit (11.2), the Trinity (61.1) and numerous other
Christian beliefs and practices. The list is actually different from more
ancient lists: for example, the tradition that 45.8 is about the Virgin Mary
is there though the translation and footnote ignores it, while 6.3 ('Holy,
Holy Holy...'), a favourite text in earlier discussions of the Trinity, is
omitted. It would be interesting to know what criteria were used for selecting some traditions for their modernized list, and not others.
The second point to make is simply that Isaiah has always been a favourite text of Jews as well, since as far back as our sources go. Ben Sira praises
him above all the other prophets (48.36). Among the Dead Sea Scrolls
Isaiah is exceptionally prominent both in the biblical manuscripts and in
the sectarian writings. In New Testament Judaism he is more often quoted
than any other part of scripture (except for Psalms), often by name. In rabbinic tradition he is compared to Moses because he communicated directly
with God (Lev. R. 10). In the Jewish lectionary there are more haftarot
'readings from the prophets' from Isaiah than from any other book. Most
of these readings come from Isaiah 40-66, including the famous 'consolation readings' prescribed to be read on the Sabbaths after the ninth of Ab,
commemorating the destruction of Jerusalem. He is the 'prophet of consolation' (b. Hag. 14a) (Sawyer 2002).
An interesting example of Isaiah's special place in the hearts of Jews is
his role in modern Zionism. The early secular Zionist organization Bilu
3 92
took its name from the four initials of the words 'House of Jacob, come,
let us go' (Isa. 2.5). A cursory glance at the titles of journals, books and
articles published in eastern Europe in the late nineteenth century illustrates what a key role Isaiah played in the history of modern Zionism.
Abraham Mapu wrote a popular novel about Isaiah entitled Ahabat Tzion,
'The Love of Zion', published in Hebrew in 1853, and translated into
many European languages. Dozens of place names in the modem state of
Israel are derived from Isaiah, such as Rishon le-Tzion, 'first to Zion'
(41.27), Shear Jashub, 'a remnant will return' (7.3), Nes Harim, 'A banner
on the mountains' (18.3), Mevasseret Tzion, 'O thou that tellest good tidings to Zion' (40.9), Mesillat Tzion, 'highway to Zion' (11.16; 40.3; 49.11;
62.10) and Neveh Shalom, 'a habitation of peace' (32.8). The name of the
national Holocaust Memorial in Jerusalem, Yad Vashem, comes from Isaiah
too (56.5), as do the '36 Just Men', the 'lamed-He' (30.18) and the Haredim, a modern term for ultraorthodox Jews (66.51) (Sawyer 2002).
So we have two separate religious traditions, equally devoted to the
same text, equally informed and inspired by it, but disagreeing fundamentally on how to interpret it. There were bound to be clashes. Much of the
literature produced in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries was concerned to prove the truth of Christian doctrine by reference to traditional
interpretations of Isaiah. Typical are two tractates written in Rome in the
mid-seventeenth century by Joseph M. Ciantes, a Jewish convert to Christianity, and their influence beyond Rome can be seen in the fact that both
were quickly translated into French. One is on the Trinity 'clearly proved
by the testimonies of the ancient Hebrews' (1658), the other on the Incarnation 'clearly defended by the most obvious teachings of the Jews against
their own arguments', and a large proportion of both works is devoted to
discussing the meaning of passages from Isaiah. The same applies to a
tractate from the previous century on the 'Truth of the coming of the Messiah to the Jews' (1581) by Andrea del Monte, one of the most celebrated
preachers to the Jews in Rome during the papacy of Gregory XIII. Formerly a distinguished rabbi known by his Jewish name, Joseph Tzarfati, he
had converted to Christianity in 1552. Again the book of Isaiah is the battleground on which the Christian convert tries to defeat the Jews.
But there is a third reason why Isaiah has been so central in Christian
writings addressed to Jews. The vehement and repeated attacks by this
prophet on his own people gave the Church scriptural authority for much
of the language of hatred and rejection directed by Christians at the Jews.
Ironically there is a Jewish tradition that Isaiah was too hard on his own
393
people. According to a well-known midrash on Isaiah 6, the reason why

Isaiah had his lips burnt was because of the violent judgmental language
he used of his own people (Ginzberg 1975: 612-13). Like other prophets,
Isaiah directed some powerful attacks on the foreign nations, Babylon
(13-14), Moab (15-16), Syria (17), Ethiopia (18) and Egypt (19) (cf. Jer.
46-51; Ezek. 25-32; Amos 1-2). But much more significant are the ferocious insults and abuse directed at Judah, both by the eighth-century prophet
in ch. 1 ('sinful nation... rulers of Sodom... people of Gomorrah...'), and,
more subtly, in chs. 56-66, where internal disputes in Judah seem to have
given rise to unusually bitter feelings (63.13-15; 66.1-5).
Isaiah thus gave the Church scriptural authority to direct all manner of
abusive language at the Jews. If their own prophet criticized them for their
blindness (Isa. 6.9-10), their disbelief (65.2) and even the crime of deicide
('your hands are full of blood', 1.15; cf. Mt. 27.25), how much more is the
Church justified in doing the same. When the Church Fathers wanted to
warn the Jews of the terrible fate that awaits them if they persist in their
foolish and stubborn ways, they quote some of the appallingly bitter invective with which the book of Isaiah concludes:
Thus says the Lord God, 'My servants shall eat, but you shall be hungry,
my servants shall drink, but you shall be thirsty.. .my servants shall sing for
joy, but you shall cry out in pain...[65.13-14]...and they shall go out and
look at the corpses of the people who have rebelled against me; for their
worm shall not die, their fire shall not be extinguished and they shall be an
abhorrence to the whole human race' (66.24).
The sad history of the Church's treatment of the Jews and, in particular,
the almost unceasing flow of anti-Jewish polemic down the centuries are
well documented already. I might have given this paper the title 'The
Church's use of scripture as an instrument of torture', after an interesting
article on the conversionist sermons subtitled 'Un sottile tormento nella
vita del ghetto di Roma: la predica coatta' (Milano 1952). What are we to
make of it all? What exactly is going on when Isaiah is used in this way?
Are there any arguments in defence of this kind of Christian interpretation
of Isaiah, any excuses or extenuating circumstances? Are there any exceptions? Does the call to go back to the original Hebrew, behind Christian
tradition, have any effect? Did it bring Jews and Christians together either
at the time of the Reformation or in the age of enlightened historical criticism from the eighteenth century on? There are too many questions to discuss here. No doubt the recipient of this volume would have many more.
But I would like to offer a few thoughts on some of them before drawing
394
some conclusions on the place of this kind of material within Biblical

Studies.
First, who is being addressed in the book of Isaiah, and in what language?
Let us look at the language question first. The use of the original Hebrew
by Christians in all contexts is extremely rare. Very few of the conversionist
sermons were in Hebrew: they were almost always in the vernacular, that is
to say, in the case of the ones I looked at in Rome, in Italian. Thepredicatori agli ebrei were certainly capable of preaching in Hebrew and some
Hebrew versions of their sermons have survived. Hebrew versions also
exist of some of the tracts like the one by Andrea del Monte referred to
above, and there is a work by Giambattista Jona entitled 'Christian Doctrine
briefly translated into the Hebrew Language' (Rome 1658). But these are
exceptional. Hebrew words and phrases are frequently cited, but the discussion of them is always driven by the traditional Greek or Latin or Italian
versions.
Where the Hebrew script appears in Christian art, in paintings or on
public monuments, these too are rare exceptions, and we have to ask why.
Were the reasons aesthetic or academic or apologetic? Was it ever, for
instance, so that Jews could read it? There is a painting of fat Annunciation
by Giambattista Cima da Conigliano, for example, with the words of Isa.
7.14 carved in beautiful Hebrew characters along a wooden beam at the top
of the picture. It was painted in Venice in 1485. Why the Hebrew? Would a
Jew ever see it? Was the artist a Jewish convert? The name Conegliano
does appear in lists of Jewish names (Humfrey 1983:106-109). Then there
is the Raphael fresco, painted in 1510, in the Church of Sant' Agostino,
near the Piazza Navona in Rome. It has an inscription on it with the words
of Isa. 26.3 in Hebrew. In this case it might have been simply because the
scholarly humanist in whose honour the painting was done just wanted to
show off his linguistic skills (Ettlinger and Ettlinger 1987: 121-23). Elsewhere the Hebrew script is represented as a meaningless scrawl, as in the
case of Matthias Gruenewald's Annunciation (1512-15), where Isaiah himself holds a scroll in the background, while Mary is reading the text written beautifully and legibly in Latin: Ecce virgo concipietfilium... (7.14).
In Konrad Witz's painting of Blind Synagogue (15th cent.), the meaningless hieroglyphics on the tables of the law are similarly intended to ridicule
the Hebrew script of the Jews.
In the case of the inscription on the facade of the Church of San Gregorio
a Ponte Quattro Capi in Rome, there is no doubt why it is in Hebrew and to
whom it is addressed. It stands right next to the synagogue on Lungotevere
395
dei Cenci, beside the old Jewish ghetto, and was for the Jews to read. They
were, and still are, the only regular passers-by who know Hebrew. It says
in the words of Isa. 65.3, in Hebrew and Latin: 'All day long I have
stretched out my hands to a rebellious people, who walk in a way that is
not good, following their own devices; a people who provoke me to my
face continually' (65.2-3a). It is certainly addressed to the Jews, and it tells
them quite plainly that the Christians' God is angry with them. Furthermore it accompanies a fresco depicting the crucified Christ, whose 'hands
stretched out' on the Cross imply that it is Christ himself who is addressing the chilling words of Isaiah to the Jews. Originally built in 1729 under
Pope Benedict XIII, the church was refurbished in 1858 on the instructions
of Pope Pius IX (Blunt 1982: 63).
Paul cites this verse in Romans 10, but he stops after the first sentence
making it more of an appeal to the Jews to come to Christ than an angry
rejection. There had been a large cross near one of the gates of the ghetto
since mediaeval times, bearing this inscription on it. But it would be very
interesting to know exactly what the nineteenth-century authorities hoped
to achieve by preserving this ugly mediaeval tradition after the ghetto had
been destroyed and the Jewish communities of Western Europe emancipated. This is an example that belongs to the present day, since Jews coming out of their synagogue are still confronted by these wordsin Hebrew.
Since the Second Vatican Council, efforts have been made to improve
relations between the Church and the Jewish people, and those responsible
for the upkeep of the Church of San Gregorio recently discussed having
the inscription removed. But the Jewish community were consulted, and
they requested that it be retained as a piece of their history, a reminder
of centuries of Christian anti-Semitism, of which the Church is rightly
ashamed now.
This brings us to the question of who is being addressed in scripture.
Much of the polemic in Isaiah is directed at the men and women of Judah,
that is to say, Judaeans, the word from which modern European languages
get their word 'Jew'. The same applies of course to many passages in the
New Testament as well, where Christians have deliberately and tendentiously used the word 'Jews' with predictable results. It is only in the last
thirty or forty years that efforts have been made by the Churches to put
this situation right and remove the implication that the people condemned
in the Bible are the people we know nowadays as Jews. It has even been
suggested that in some New Testament contexts the non-specific word
'people' might be substituted for 'Jews' as a possible translation for the
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Greek word ioudaioi, and phrases like the reference to 'Jews, infidels and
Turks' in a notorious Good Friday prayer have simply been abandoned as
unacceptable. But in many editions of the Bible, some still in use, sections
of Isaiah, such as ch. 65 which we have just been considering, are entitled
'Isaiah condemns the Jews' or the like. The official Italian version mentioned above, dated 1974, is a case in point: part of ch. 5 beginning 'Guai
a voi che aggiungete casa a casa' is entitled, quite gratuitously, 'Minacce
contro gli Ebrei infedeli'.
Does going back to the original Hebrew of Isaiah make any difference?
Luther's famous interpretation of 7.14 is an excellent example of what
actually happens. He has to admit that the Hebrew does not have the normal word for 'virgin': 'almah is simply a 'young woman' who may or may
not be a virgin. The usual equivalent of Latin virgo, Greek parthenos, 'virgin', is betulah and that is not what the original Hebrew has. But he argues
that in this context the young woman must be a virgin otherwise it would
not be a miracle. Normative Christian tradition takes precedence over any
Hebrew original. I came across some very similar examples in a sermon
preached by the Jewish convert Vitale di Medici to the Jews of Florence in
the Church of Santa Croce in 1585. He quotes scripture, especially Isaiah,
very frequently in Hebrew, but this in no way affects his interpretation of
the text. He argues that Isa. 12.3, 55.1 and 37.25, for example, which he
quotes in Hebrew, all refer to Christian baptism, in one case even citing
the Jewish Targum to prove it. Often he cites the Hebrew but clearly bases
his interpretation on the Vulgate, where thoroughly Christian words,
borrowed from Greek, like cathedra and ecclesia appear. What the Jews
realized long ago, but what many of our Christian predecessorsscholars,
preachers, leaders, bishopsseem to have been reluctant to acknowledge,
is that texts have many meanings, not just one. But from the beginning the
Church chose to privilege the Greek and Latin versions, in preference to
the original Hebrew.
Are there any examples of preachers and artists adopting a kinder or
more enlightened attitude towards the Jews? There are plenty of comforting words in Isaiah, addressed to those same Judaeans. Were these ever
interpreted by the Church in such a way as to provide scriptural authority
for a more positive approach to the Jews? There are certainly cases of
individual popes and other church leaders taking action to prevent or
alleviate Jewish suffering, especially in Rome. But was the 'prophet of
consolation' ever cited to bring comfort to the Jews? Are any of the visions
of future peace and justice ever interpreted to include the Jews? Paul
397
seems to use a verse from Isaiah in this way in Rom. 11.26-27, although
the original Hebrew is different: 'all Israel will be saved: as it is written,
"The Deliverer will come from Zion [Hebr. 'to'; LXX 'for the sake of']; he
will banish ungodliness from Jacob [Hebr. 'to those in Jacob who turn from
transgression']. This will be my covenant with them, when I take away
their sins"'(59.20-21).
It has been argued that some of the polemical language used by St
Augustine against the Jews must be offset against his appeal to Christians
to show love, kindness and humility towards them. Pope Gregory XIII, in
his pronouncement on the prediche forzate in 1585, stipulated that the
predicatori agli ebrei should tackle their task 'without rancour or anger
but with great charity and modesty' (Milano 1952: 520). The preacher
referred to above, Vitale di Medici, repeatedly addresses the Jews as nostri
cari e dilettifratelli,'our dear and beloved brothers'. But such comments
hardly match, let alone outweigh or excuse, the repeated references to their
ignorance, blindness, stubbornness, insensitivity and stupidity. In the preface to his two published Omeliefatte agli Ebrei di Firenze, for example,
the convert Medici thanks God for liberating him dalla cecita giudaica,
'from Jewish blindness', and explains that the sermons are written for
them to read and understand 'if they are not too stupid and insensitive to
wake up from their sleep of ignorance, not to say, their treacherous
obstinacy' (se non sarannopero al tutto stupidi e insensati di destarsi dal
sonno dell'ignoranza [per non dire dallaperfida ostinazione]}.
Another argument sometimes adduced to explain the extreme language
directed at the Jews, this time by St John Chrysostom in Antioch in the
fourth century, is that the Jewish community posed a genuine threat to the
Church. Christians were converting to Judaism and the Church had to act
decisively to prevent this: hence John's extreme language. A similar explanation can be offered for the measures taken by the Church in the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries. The Protestants were using scripture in the original languages to disprove and undermine traditional Catholic doctrine, and
were even using Jewish scholarship to do this. The Church had to combat
this and set up training programmes to equip its leaders with the necessary
expertise in Hebrew and Jewish studies. The underlying assumption, however, was that the Jews were wrong.
Typical of this approach is the influential and scurrilous Bibliotheca
magna rabbinica in four volumes compiled by the Cistercian Giulio Bartolocci towards the end of the seventeenth century (Bartolocci 1683). This
consists mainly of entries on rabbinic scholars and texts, arranged alpha-
398
betically, every one of them indiscriminately ridiculed and rubbished.

Talmudic traditions about God, the angels, the resurrection of the dead and
the like may be easy to ridicule but are often theologically quite profound
and reward careful study. Bartolocci dismisses them all as a result of the
'most impudent abuse of sacred scripture on the part of the talmudists'.
His task was to provide Christian scholars and preachers with ammunition
to combat any threat from Jewish (and, probably more important, Protestant) uses of scripture.
Many of the newly trained scholars, including some of the official
'preachers to the Jews', were Dominicans, and it was in the Dominicans'
archive in the Church of Santa Sabina on the Aventine that I found one
interesting exception. It is entitled Dichiarazione di cento cinquanta Psalmi
di Davide con le esposizioni e virtu estratte da molti libri dei virtuosi
Rabini Ebrei (cat. no. XIV 320). No date is given but it was probably
written in the sixteenth century. We can only speculate whether other students in such a confined and prejudiced context ever found it possible to
appreciate some of the riches of ancient and mediaeval Jewish literature. It
would have been very difficult, and it is probably no coincidence that the
one exception is anonymous.
To modern eyes of course the Christian interpretations of scripture
according to which references to Jesus, Mary, baptism, the sign of the cross,
bishops and the like are to be found in Isaiah, seem methodologically very
similar to the Jewish ones ridiculed by Bartolocci. Judaism and Christianity
are entirely different religions, the one based on the Hebrew Bible along
with centuries of highly developed Jewish tradition, the other based on the
very different Greek Bible and subsequent versions, along with centuries
of highly developed Christian tradition. Isaiah in Jewish tradition is a very
different book from Isaiah in Christian tradition, neither incidentally having much to do with the eighth-century prophet to whom the biblical book
is attributed.
This brings me to my final point concerning the place of this kind of
material in teaching and research programmes: should it be left to church
historians and theologians, or should it be for us biblical experts to take
on? My own view is that it is extremely important for students of the
Hebrew Bible to be made aware that what we are studying, especially in a
predominantly Christian context, is not only an important part of the
history of ancient Israel but also a vital part of the history of Christianity,
especially in relation to Christian attitudes to Judaism and the Jews. This is
already admitted in commentaries on Isa. 7.14 and 53 where much space is
399
often devoted to the Jewish interpretations. But for nearly three centuries
of historical criticism, how texts have been interpreted down the ages has
been almost totally neglected. Now at last the situation is changing. The
study of the reception history or Wirkungsgeschichte of biblical texts down
the centuries is becoming more and more popular at all levels and in many
institutions. There is now as much interest among scholars in readerresponse as in authorial intention, in the later contextualization(s) of biblical texts as in what they originally meant, and in a plurality of meanings
as in one single authoritative meaning, conventionally identified with the
original meaning. Let me make two points about this.
First, it cannot be stressed too much that texts have more than one meaning. The rabbis likened interpreting a text to striking an anvil with a hammer
and making countless sparks, every one different and each a light in its own
right, each illuminating the darkness in its own way. My experience of examining the various meanings a text has had, in its various contextsJewish or Christian, Hebrew or Greek or Latin or English, ancient, mediaeval
or modern, scientific or pre-scientific, literal or allegoricalis that it greatly
heightens your awareness of all kinds of nuances and subtleties in the text
of which you were perhaps totally unaware before. Whether you are trying
to get back to an original Hebrew meaning or someone's ipsissima verba
or how things actually were in eighth-century BCE Jerusalem, or whether
you are interested in the meaning of the canonical text in the form it had
reached, let us say, in the early Second Temple Period or in New Testament times, whatever your interest, the possibilities opened up when you
examine the Wirkungsgeschichte of a text are a constant source of interest
and inspiration. Modem literary-critical approaches to the Hebrew Bible,
especially by Jewish writers, are frequently informed and enriched by references to ancient and mediaeval Jewish sources (Alter 1981; Handelman
1982; Magonet 1991). Such materials are usually very much more familiar
to Jewish scholars, incidentally, than the equivalent patristic and mediaeval
materials are to Christians.
Finally, what texts do is often as important as what they mean. The
structuralists' questions about who is doing what to whom are particularly
important when we are dealing with a sacred text. The fact that the Bible is
believed to be divinely inspired gave the Church licence to use it in a disingenuously high-handed manner, and, by the late middle ages, many of
the texts in question had acquired clearly identifiable, often highly emotive
overtones and associations through frequent use in such contexts. The
'Christianization' of Isaiah in the Church is a dramatic and, for the Jews,
400
peculiarly dangerous example of this. Texts of doctrinal significance to

Christians prove that Judaism is a heresy. Texts originally condemning the
blindness and obstinacy of some people in ancient Jerusalem can be applied
to a Jewish minority in sixteenth-century Florence or nineteenth-century
Rome. Isaiah contains texts which can be used to prove that the Jews are
guilty of betraying, torturing and killing the son of God. Other texts make
it clear that the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 CE and the continuing
sufferings of the Jews in exile are an appropriate punishment for their sin.
The story of how the Church has used the Bible down the ages is a
cautionary one. It shows us that sacred texts are powerful and dangerous.
It shows that what they came to mean and how they were used after they
became scripture are at least as important as the endlessly fascinating preoccupation with where they came from and who originally wrote them
down. Though this is hardly something the illustrious recipient of this Festschrift needs to be told, the post-history or afterlife of a text is as important
historically and interesting, theologically, morally and aesthetically, as its
prehistory.
Bibliography
Alter, R.
1981
The Art of Biblical Narrative (London: Allen & Unwin).
Bartolocci, G.
1683
Bibliotheca magna rabbinica de scriptoribus, et scriptis hebraicis (Rome).
Blunt, A.
1982
Guide to Baroque Rome (London: Granada).
Ettlinger, L.D., and H.S. Ettlinger
1987
Raphael(Oxford: Phaidon).
Ginzberg, L.
1975
Legends of the Bible (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society); the shorter
version of the seven-volume Legends of the Jews (New York: Jewish Publication Society, 1954).
Handelman, S.A.
1982
The Slayers of Moses: The Emergence of Rabbinic Interpretation in Modem
Literary Theory (Albany, NY: SUNY Press).
Humfrey, P.
1983
Cima da Conegliano (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).
Magonet, J.
1991
A Rabbi's Bible (London: SCM Press).
Milano, A.
1952
'Un sottile tormento nella vita del ghetto di Roma: la predica coatta',
Rassegna mensile di Israel 18:517-32.

Roth, C.
1946
Sawyer, J.F.A.
1996
2001
2002
401
History of the Jews in Italy (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society).

The Fifth Gospel: Isaiah in the History of Christianity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).
'The Gospel according to Isaiah', ExpTim 113.2: 40-43.
'Isaiah and Zionism', in A.G. Hunter and P.R. Davies (eds.), Sense and Sensitivity: Essays on Reading the Bible in Memory of Robert Carroll (JSOTSup,
348; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press): 246-60.
INTERESTED PARTIES:
HISTORY AND IDEOLOGY AT THE END OF THE CENTURY*
Keith W. Whitelam
Introduction
'Where we're going, we don't need roads' are the words of Doc Brown to
Marty McFly in the closing scenes of the film Back to the Future. The same
scene provides the opening to Back to the Future II, when Doc Brown,
having just returned from the year 2015 in his time-travelling DeLorean
sports car, explains to Marty the need to return with him back to the future
in order to prevent the unjust arrest of Marty's children for murder and its
catastrophic consequences. However, in trying to alter the future they allow
Biff Tannen, the town bully, to return to the past with a book of sports
results from the 1950s onwards, which he delivers to himself as a young
man, allowing the accumulation of a vast fortune, thereby producing an
alternative future. When Doc and Marty eventually return to their present,
they discover a violent, dark, brooding and cynical world in which their
community, Hill Valley, California, is controlled by Biff Tannen through
his gunmen, paid for from his vast gambling fortune. The town is dominated by a huge towerblock casino, complete with flashing neon signs. Doc
Brown, in trying to explain this alternative reality and the dangers of trying to change it, warns that a time paradox 'could cause a chain reaction
that would unravel the very fabric of the space-time continuum and destroy
the entire universe'. Yet it is now imperative that they return to the past, to
the 1950s, to prevent the handover of the sports results, thereby changing
the course of events, and so averting the creation of this nightmare world.
From recent pronouncements, it is clear that many within biblical studies
also believe that this nightmare is becoming a reality, with the very fabric
The opening to the paper is adapted from 'Back to the Future: Biblical Studies
and Geopolitics', a paper presented to the Society for Old Testament Study in Glasgow,
July 1999.
WHITELAM Interested Parties
403
of the biblical studies world unravelling. A look through the current and
recent programmes of the annual meeting of SBL, as well as other national
and international conferences, suggests to many the realization of an anarchic world of biblical studies in which stable boundaries, fixed structures
and shared consensus have disappeared.1 The 1998 SBL meeting held in
Orlando, the location of the alternative reality of Disney World, offered a
bewildering array of sessions and papers. There it was possible to attend
the Bible Translation Section on the theme of Ideology and Bible Translation, including a paper on 'Sexual Euphemisms in Hebrew and Omissions
in English: A Eu-femin-istic Analysis of Sexual Imagery in the NRSV', the
Ideological Criticism Section on 'Mapping Ideology in Biblical Studies' or
the Social History of Formative Christianity and Judaism Section on the
theme 'Toward the Social History of Biblical Scholarship: Germany as
Case Study', with papers ranging from the politics of Orientalism in eighteenth-century Germany to New Testament scholarship on the 'Aryan Jesus'
during the Third Reich. The Feminist Theological Hermeneutics of the
Bible Group was concerned with 'Empowering and Victimizing: Biblical
Texts and Women's Experience', while the Committee on Underrepresented
Racial and Ethnic Minorities in the Profession met and the Bible and Cultural Studies section considered papers on holy land tours and the ideologies of biblical scholarship, including a cultural reading of Gunkel's works.
Similarly, the Semiotics and Exegesis section dealt with 'What signifies culture?', one panel discussed The Postmodern Bible, while another celebrated
the twenty-fifth anniversary ofSemeia under the theme 'What Counts as
"Experimental" in Biblical Studies Now?' Available at the same time were
sessions dealing with the archaeology of Jerusalem, seals and sealing in
the ancient world, the composition of the book of Jeremiah, and sections
on biblical law, the Hebrew Bible, history and archaeology and so on. The
sheer variety is almost too large to comprehend, with an international market place of competing approaches and voices in an anarchic world where
scheduling is a nightmare, pick and mix is the order of the day, with some
people moving from one section to another in order to hear specific papers
1. Bryan Turner (1990: 3-4) defines postmodernism in the following terms: 'The
implosion of signs eventually undermines the sense of reality. The result is that, in our
media dominated world, the concept of meaning itself (which depends on stable
boundaries, fixed structures, shared consensus) dissolves,' Although this is how many
portray much of contemporary biblical studies, particularly some of the newer developments within the discipline, it is an open question whether or not this is an accurate
portrayal of these movements.
404
while others sit through whole sections. Thus, the Hebrew Bible, History
and Archaeology section, including papers on 'pre-state Babylonia and
early Israel' and 'the political economy of the Iron II settlement pattern in
Moab', competed alongside the Ideological Criticism section, with the
theme 'Religious and Ideological Commitments in Reading the Bible'. A
glance through the programme for the 2002 meeting in Toronto, which
includes a number of sessions featuring Jacques Derrida, confirms that the
situation since the turn of the century has not changed significantly.2 Such
a bewildering array, in which it is difficult to define an agenda and in
which there are a multitude of groups, sections and seminars with their
own internalized contests and disagreements conforms to Bauman's wellknown definition of postmodernity as 'institutionalized pluralism, variety,
contingency, and ambivalence' (1992:187). At the turn of the century, we
are faced with what Taylor, Watts and Johnston (1995: 4) term a 'global
ambience of pervasive change' with considerable uncertainty about present
conditions or where they are leading. Thus for many within biblical studies,
as in other branches of the humanities and social sciences, the nightmare is
all too rapidly becoming reality, with little sense of the road ahead. Maat, it
would seem, has been expelled and chaos reigns.
If, in the words of Homi Bhabha (1994: 7), at the end of the century, we
'touch the future on its hither side', many fear that the end of the last century and the beginning of the new have conspired to bring forth a dark,
brooding world populated by the cynical, intellectual offspring of postmodernist scholars who no longer inhabit the Ivory Tower but an imposing
multi-story casino, complete with garish neon sign which flashes, in giant
letters, 'the Academy', patrolled by members of the guild. At the very edge
of the century, says Homi Bhabha:
our existence today is marked by a tenebrous sense of survival, living on
the borderlines of the 'present', for which there seems to be no proper name
other than the current and controversial shiftiness of the prefix 'post'': postmodernism, postcolonialism,postfeminism... (Bhabha 1994: 1).
Our discipline, like many others, is characterized by a sense of unease,

the fight for inclusion or exclusion and a sense of disorientation and lack
of direction.
This unease has been articulated by, among others, James Barr in his
History and Ideology in the Old Testament: Biblical Studies at the End of
2. Clines (1998a; 1998b) provides a different analysis of what has and what has
not been happening at the SBL International Meeting and IOSOT.
405
a Millennium. His fears are expressed in his disdain for those trends he
labels as postmodern, confessing that 'to me, to utter the word "postmodern" is equivalent to saying "I am now going to start talking nonsense"'
(2000: 30). But 'postmodern' or 'postmodernist' are not the only words Barr
dislikes: he professes a dislike for 'theory', 'power' and particularly for
what he calls 'the obnoxious term "ideology"' (2000:101).3 He complains
that postmodernism is a new, strange language: 'One has to say "totalizing",
"marginalized", "closure", "metanarrative", "reinscription", and, of course,
"deconstruction"' (2000: 156).4 The compulsory vocabulary is later extended to include 'decentring, logocentric, ontotheology, metanarrative,
totalizing' (2000: 168).
It would seem that only a return to the Utopia of the past, just like Doc
Brown and Marty McFly, will prevent the establishment of the nightmare
world of postmodernism. Invariably, the various expressions of concern
about contemporary trends and their consequences call for a return to the
stable boundaries and shared consensus of the past. Just as Back to the
Future appeals to small town America of the 1950s as a Utopian landscape,
like many recent Hollywood productions, so recent analyses seem to suggest some Utopian notion of biblical scholarship that is being threatened or
overturned. What was once peripheral, avant-garde or unthinkable is rapidly
becoming the new orthodoxy. The old orthodoxies function alongside or on
the margins or frequently in conflict with the new orthodoxies. Predictions
of passing fads have proven to be false prophecies, as twenty years or more
have passed since such pronouncements were first heard and the fads continue and multiply, while, if many commentators are to be believed, postmodernists bid for hegemony and control on this side of the future.
It is common, of course, in periods of rupture to appeal to the sanctity
and power of the past for legitimacy. Recent surveys of the field tend to
draw a contrast between the triumph and domination of 'the historical
3. Barr's discussion of ideology would have been considerably enhanced if he had

read and analysed David Clines's Interested Parties: The Ideology of Writers and Readers of the Hebrew Bible (Clines 1995). Clines deals with the ambiguity and different
uses of the term, one of the principal concerns of Barr, before discussing the ideologies
of the writers and readers of the Hebrew Bible. Barr chooses an odd selection of essays
in order to enhance his argument, while ignoring one of the major treatments of the
issue in the field.
4. He derides Stephen Moore's Poststructuralism and the New Testament: Derrida
andFoucault at the Foot of the Cross and the many papers at AAR/SBL with titles like
the sectional titles of Moore's book (Barr 2000: 156).
406
critical method' for most of this century and postmodern, postcolonial

forms of reading and research at its end (see Barton 1998a: 9; 1998b: 1).
Thus Segovia's (2000) analysis of the shifts in the discipline contrasts the
dominance of historical criticism until the 1970s with the rise of literary
criticism and cultural criticism which emerged alongside one another in
the mid-1970s. Talk of 'a paradigm shift' or revolutionary changes, which
became popular from the 1970s onwards, suggests a sense of rupture as
does the rhetoric of some recent exchanges. One of the ironies of such
analyses and prognostications about the dangers of contemporary trends in
the discipline, and its subareas, is that a discipline that previously has been
characterized by its teleological orientation now finds itself unsettled by the
sense of beyond.
The promise of return to a new beginning has good biblical precedent and
appeal, but does it offer a cogent analysis of present trends or a solution to
the fears about this side of the future? Barr's complaint about having to
learn a new strange language can hardly be taken seriously. Is it any
stranger than the arcane language of biblical studies in which new initiates
have to say lectio difficilior, homoioteleuton, Sitz im Leben, Gattungen,
etc.? How is the continuation of such terminology any different from Barr's
complaint that 'you have to know this language, otherwise you might as
well not exist' (2000:168-69). Biblical studies has equally resisted attempts
to speak a language which the uninitiated can easily understand. Furthermore, it has understandably imported new terms from other disciplines
history, sociology, linguistics, literary studiesduring the nineteenth and
twentieth centuries.5 It is not difficult to find a wide variety of material
within biblical studies where 'the very mark of leamedness and cosmopolitan sophistication in academic lecturing was to ornament one's talk
with snatches of quotation in many languages' (Garber 2001: 124). As
Garber (2001: 124-25) notes the quotations went untranslated since understanding them or knowing their source 'was part of the test, the password
or open sesame, of cultivated intellectual society'. Of greater significance
is the question of whether or not the appeal to the past offers a realistic
response to the trends that Barr and others find so alarming:
Certainly, if one is to take biblical study as an example, one could hardly
say that its level now is higher than it was a century ago; and the work that
is solid and likely to be lasting is mostly, though not exclusively, carried on
by those who pay no attention to postmodernism' (2000: 160).6
5.
6.
See Garber (2001: 116-119) on the jargon effect.

Sadly, he offers no examples of modern, solid, lasting scholarship which
407
Yet we might ask, adapting the words of David Clines (1998f: 614), 'What
does "standing the test of time" mean in this connection?'7
History and Texts
In warning his audience about the nightmare world of postmodernism, Barr
is particularly concerned to guard against what he considers the wilder
excesses being wrought on history:
The pursuit of rapidly changing fashions, the dominance of theory over
serious knowledge, the absence of connection with religious traditions, and
the readiness at any time to overturn that upon which one stood in one's
learning only a few years beforeall these produce a fevered atmosphere
which is likely to do considerable damage (2000: 156).
But damage to whom or what? Damage, it would seem, to 'believers' who

ask whether or not the walls of Jericho fell or if Joseph was a historical person (2000: 59). For Barr, since the historicity of the Bible is a central issue
for Christian apologetics, recent trends in the study of history have alarmed
him. If the historical accuracy of the depiction of events, persons and sayings in the Bible is central for Christian apologetics, then the treatment of
the biblical texts by historians is of particular concern. However, it would
appear that the legitimate questions of historians concerning these matters
are secondary to the Christian apologetical concern with the relationship
between the historicity of the Bible and 'the credibility of religion' (2000:
14).8 It is not that theologians and believers have to take into account and
provide the antidote to the insubstantial and ephemeral work being produced by those
he labels postmodernists. Elsewhere he claims that 'one may criticize the older scholarship for its dullness and pedestrian character, but one cannot deny its solidity. The
same cannot be said of much that is now being produced' (2000: 156). But to say that
standards now are variable, as they always have been, is to say very little.
7. Clines (1998f: 614), in discussing 'Philology and Power', asks, 'Do suggestions
survive on their merits, or does the scholarly consensus function to suppress novelties?
What does "standing the test of time" mean in this connection?' The point is appropriate given Barr's interest in philology and his current disdain for 'power'.
8. It should be noted that when Barr refers to 'religion', he is referring to the
Christianity or the Judaeo-Christian tradition rather than world religions in general. See
King (1999:400) for the view that 'the concept of "religion" is the product of the culturally specific discursive processes of Christian history in the West and has been forged
in the crucible of inter-religious conflict and interaction'. He notes that 'we should be
aware, therefore, that the central explanatory category of religious studies, namely the
notion of "religion" itself, is a Christian theological category' (1999: 40).
408
adapt to the findings of historians. Rather the historian's work, like that of
Ethan ben Hoshaiah in Stefan Heym's King David Report (1977), must
conform to and be judged against 'the one and only true and authoritative,
historically correct and officially approved report. . .thus ending all contradiction and controversy'.
Barr claims that revisionist historians have argued that very little of the
narrative material down to the end of the Judaean kingdom depends on
actual historical knowledge, but derives from theological or ideological
concerns from a later period. He then asserts that 'the argument in
revisionist work has been based less on sceptical assessment of this or that
detail, and more on the general assertion that the material is ideological in
character' (2000: 60; italics in original). Yet it is misleading to suggest
that those he labels as revisionist historians have not worked closely with
the text, considered its nuances, and arrived at their conclusions after careful consideration. He suggests that 'it is not a matter of going through the
text and regretfully eliminating this or that event when we come to it. . . '
(2000: 60). If one works carefully through 1 Samuel, part of what he terms
'the more central materials such as the books of Samuel/Kings' (2000:
51), what usable historical information does it provide? Where, even in our
standard accounts by Bright (2000), Herrmann (1975) and many others,
is the story of Hannah, where is the death of Eli, the problems that Saul
encounters with sacrifice, or many other important episodes throughout
1 Samuel? If these episodes do not find their way into our so-called moderate, critical histories (see Barr 2000: 81), are they not to be classed as
historical events or are our histories defective?
The naming of Samuel by Hannah (1 Sam. 1 .20) has often been explained
by commentators and historians as a misplaced birth narrative of Saul
(McCarter 1980: 62).9 Yet a close reading reveals that it is a pivotal point
in the narrative which draws the contrast, at the very beginning, between
the one 'asked for' of Yahweh who is the model of piety, a priest after his
own heart, and the one 'asked for' by the people who can never do what
is right. In character, 1 Samuel is to be compared less with the works of
Thucydides, Herodotus or Gibbon as history and more with Job as a sustained study of the problem of evil. Here is a man tragically trapped
between Yahweh and the people, humble and reluctant, whose every act of
9. Although McCarter (1980: 62) recognizes the elaborate play on the root
he still concludes that this is a misplaced birth narrative concerning Saul. He fails to
appreciate the literary significance of the play on words and continues to look for a
historical explanation.
409
piety turns to tragedy, abandoned from the very beginning by Yahweh,

who refuses to answer as events conspire against Saul. Tormented by an
evil spirit and the knowledge that the kingdom has been given to another,
he becomes increasingly isolated and desperate, culminating in his abandonment by the people and his slaughter of the priests of Nob. He retains
his essential humanity and refuses to submit to fate, tragically taking his
own lifethe one act where he wrests control from Yahweh?on Gilboa.
The city he saved after seven days' respite is the city that mourns him.
Here is a narrative in which every detail is significantnot always easy to
read or interpretbut which betrays a conscious artistic design, heavy on
irony, where the tragic events are foreshadowed in the opening seven chapters and Yahweh is shown to be in complete and utter control. The accumulation of evidence for artistic design, artful use of language and irony
produces a weight of evidence that suggests that we are dealing with a
finely crafted piece of literature whose intention is less to record historical
reality than to explore the tragedy of human potential in the context of a
world where the deity is all-powerful and in control. It stands in line with a
broad body of material in the Hebrew Bible that explores the problems of
religious belief and faith in the light of the dissonance of actual experience. It is a narrative that raises central questions of humanity and justice
in relation to the deity in similar ways to the book of Job.10 Such a reading
of 1 Samuel is not dependent on the late dating of the text or the general
assertion of its ideological character. It is the result of a careful reading of
every detail which reveals its artful construction, rather than the search for
some 'historical kernel' which can be used as the basis of a historical
narrative with the rest of the material abandoned as extraneous packing.
One cannot object to the general claim that 'the fact that one can make a
perfectly good commentary on a narrative taken as a literary piece does
not touch on the question of whether it is useful as a historical document'
(Barr 2000: 83 n. 68), since it is true, as Marc Bloch (1954:66) pointed out
many years ago, that 'the variety of historical evidence is nearly infinite'.
However, the historical usefulness of the Samuel materials is dependent
upon a knowledge of the conditions of its productionincluding tradi10. Barr (2000: 83 n. 68) notes that Gunn's study of 1 Samuel (1980) bypasses the
matter of the historicity of the story. However, although Gunn does not address this
issue, this does not mean that his work does not have profound implications for the
way in which the historian approaches and utilizes the text. See Exum (1992) for a
detailed and sophisticated reading of the Samuel material which raises similar
questions and implications for the historian.
410
tional questions of author and audiencebefore their representation of

Israel's past can be assessed. Yet it is impossible to answer these questions. Whether the narrative is an accurate reflection of historical reality or
witness to the perceptions of Israel's past of later writers remains an open
question. It is difficult to reconcile Barr's position at the end of the millennium with his views in his earlier, seminal article 'Story and History in
Biblical Theology' (1980). There he stated that
the long narrative corpus of the Old Testament seems to me, as a body of
literature, to merit the title of story, rather than that of history. Or, to put it
another way, it seems to merit the title of story but only in part the title
history; or, again, we may adapt the term used by Hans Frei and say that the
narrative is 'history-like' (Barr 1980: 5).
He insists that story is 'absolutely essential and central' to the Old

Testament but that it cannot be identified easily or at all with history (Barr
1980: 11). He also criticizes Albright and his followers for having no
feeling for the text as literature with its meaning in itself (Barr 1980: 10).
Yet Barr now appears to adopt this Albrightian position in suggesting how
the text is to be utilized by the historian and in ignoring the integrity of the
narrative as artfully constructed.11 The reading of the Samuel narrative
offered above does not denigrate the narrative or its importance for the
11. This is not to deny that history writing is a craft. Hayden White (1973) illustrated this with his analysis of the literary qualities of Michelet, von Ranke, Tocqueville and Burckhardt. The works of Fernand Braudel, whether in French or the brilliant
translations of Sian Reynolds, are artfully constructed narratives. It is important to
subject histories of ancient Israel to literary and linguistic analysis in order to appreciate the ways in which the arguments have been constructed. The striking thing about
Israelite history is that it has invariably followed the shape of the biblical narratives
leading to an assumption that the facts determine the shape of the history. See Whitelam (2002b) for a preliminary analysis of some of the rhetorical strategies employed in
standard histories of Israel illustrating the importance of emplotment. There is nothing
in biblical studies to compare with Garrett Mattingly's The Defeat of the Spanish
Armada (1959) or Le Roy Ladurie's Montaillou (1980) that offer a multiplicity of view
points or alternative views of the past. It is true that the historian of ancient Palestine
does not have the luxury of the kind of archive which Le Roy Ladurie was able to draw
upon. However, it is still instructive to look at the shape of his narrative and the alternative perspective which it offers. Similarly, Mattingly told the story of the Spanish
Armada from the perspective of different citiesLondon, Madrid, Antwerpin order
to move away from the traditional narrative that always told the story from the British
point of view.
411
believer or non-believer. On the contrary, it seeks to move beyond reading

the biblical texts 'as simple sources of information on the level of content
analysis', to use LaCapra's words (1985: 11), an approach that has long
characterized 'histories' of Israel, to an appreciation of the Samuel narrative that has 'proved itself patient of interested interpretation' (Kermode
1996: 2). It is misleading to claim that the text has been dismissed as
ideological as part of some general assertion rather than a careful analysis
of the material.12 Nor, of course, is the late dating of texts or the claim that
such texts may tell us more about the perceptions of those who composed
them than the events they purport to describe some new postmodern fad,
as a reading of the works of Wellhausen, Robertson Smith and many others
testifies. Those who are dismissed as appealing only to the latest fads, as
ushering in some new nightmare world, are better understood as part of the
continuation and development of trends that have deep roots in the past of
the discipline. Significantly, apart from a series of complaints about how
others use the texts, Barr never reveals how the historian is to proceed in
utilizing the biblical narrative or what kind of history is likely to result from
this enterprise.13
History without Facts
Barr acknowledges the controversy surrounding 'earlier' periods, by which
he means 'not only the primeval tales such as the first part of the book of
Genesis but essentially the more central materials such as the books of
Samuel/Kings' (2000: 59). However, his only example of'lasting' scholarship on the history of Israel seems to be a wistful longing for the position
of Martin Noth that we have 'a generally good historical narrative from
12. The same kind of picture is often offered by those who wish to assert the general historicity of the biblical traditions. It is claimed that so-called 'minimalists' reject
the Bible as of historical worth out of hand. There is no acknowledgment that the
treatment of texts differs from scholar to scholar or any recognition that conclusions
have been reached after careful analysis of the materials.
13. Although Barr complains about the late dating of texts, in wanting to hold to
the position of Noth that we have good historical narratives from the time of David and
Solomon, he never explains why a historical Moses or Abraham should be rejected.
Similarly, Dever (2001: 102) is entirely disingenuous when he claims that revisionist
datings of biblical texts to the Persian or Hellenistic periods renders the Hebrew Bible
a 'pious fiction', when he himself dates the Exodus traditions to the Persian period and
rules out their use for historical reconstruction (1997: 82).
412
about 1000 BC onwards' (2000:64).14 Unfortunately, the concerned believer, who begins the book fretting over the historicity of Abraham or Moses,
the fall of Jericho, or even the historicity of David and Solomon, remains
just as bewildered by the end. If these questions are of such importance for
Christian apologetics, it is puzzling that Barr seems so reluctant to provide
the answer. His purpose has been to inform the reader of the state of the
questions rather than to provide any answers: 'I would not like to be required to state my definite opinion about what the reigns of David and
Solomon are like, historically...' (2000: 179). The believer is left with no
way of knowing how to read the texts and, unfortunately, must be content
with a history without facts.
Ironically, suggestions that standard histories focusing on unique individuals and events are inadequate and attempts to widen the historical enterprise are dismissed as 'rich in generalities but thin in factual substantiation'
(2000: 84) or 'further outbursts of theory and outlines of methods which
will, it is hoped, produce more in the future' (2000: 86).15 Such is Barr's
response to the suggestion that despite recent attempts to locate and date
the biblical traditions in the Persian period, we know very little about the
Second Temple period or that
the traditions tell us little or nothing of how these societies.. .were linked to
the wider economy.. .nor are they informative of demography, settlement patterns or economic trends, the best indicators of the deep-seated movements
of history which provide the wider perspective (Whitelam 1998: 43).
14. It is ironic to note that he considers this view of Noth's to be a 'moderate critical position' (2000: 81) when Albright and his followers dismissed it as 'nihilism'. It is
interesting to note how many of the terms and arguments used by Albright and his followers to disparage the work of Noth are now being resurrected and arrayed against
those labeled as 'minimalists' or 'revisionists'.
15. He complains that the article 'The Social World of the Bible' (Whitelam 1998)
'contains practically no factual evidence, only a listing and outlining of methods which
will allegedly produce progress (sometime)' (2000: 85 n. 72). He cites a passage
(Whitelam 1998:44) from the article in which it is stated that: This has been followed
by an appeal to and application of social-scientific theories of small group formation
and development, sectarianism, conversion and deviance. In all cases contemporary
models have been used to understand how and why Christianity spread throughout the
Mediterranean world, its diversity and inner tensions, and the social world embedded
within the biblical texts.' Barr presents this as though it is my view rather than a
description of trends within New Testament studies ignoring the discussion that
follows. The article was commissioned as a review of contemporary scholarship, a fact
that Barr overlooks.
413
However, Barr's quotation of this view is incomplete and therefore misleading: it goes on to describe demography, settlement patterns or economic trends as 'the best indicators of the deep-seated movements of
history which provide the wider perspectiveyrom which to view the shortterm trends that are the inevitable focus of our literary deposits' (italics
added). The study of the history of the region has been dominated by the
biblical traditions, focusing upon unique individuals and events, and so
archaeologists and historians have not been concerned with these issues
until relatively recently. Even so, Barr chooses to ignore the growing body
of survey data, excavation reports, or the growing number of synthetic
treatments of these issues which bear witness to the rhythms of the history
of ancient Palestine (Coote and Whitelam 1987; Finkelstein 1995; Levy
1995; Ward and Joukowsky 1992; see now Whitelam 2002a).16
Perhaps the most surprising aspect of his treatment of this issue is that
he fails to recognize the need to examine the assumptions and models of
standard approaches before an alternative reading of the history of the
region can be offered. Could this be the same James Barr who, over thirty
years ago, was so keen to endorse the view that
It is in fact one of the advantages of the more negative approach, namely,
the approach through criticism of earlier solutions, that faults in these solutions can be demonstrated on the basis of the known and acknowledged
evidence and methods, without appealing to methods which may indeed be
better but which are unfamiliar in theological study and untried in the biblical area (Barr 1969: 19).
Similarly, a decade later, he responded to the dismissal of his questioning

of the centrality of revelation in history as 'mere negative protest against
the great positive thrust of modern theology', with the counter-claim that it
was necessary to carry out such an analysis in order to expose the uncritical and unanalytical complacency of its practitioners (1980: 5). Why does
the same thing not hold true for the attempts to show the weaknesses and
lacunae in the study of Israelite history, or to argue that it has been too
narrow in its geographical and thematic approaches? Such a procedure is
necessarily iconoclastic, dealing as it does with the weaknesses of standard
positions, including an examination of the ideological roots of those positions, before a more positive construction can be undertaken. Even if
16. His view (Barr 2000: 86) that we do at least know the sorts of things which
were being written during the Second Temple period does not address the fundamental
question of the history of the period or the kinds of things that historians might be
interested in which are not the concern of these written materials.
414
attempts to offer alternative constructions of the region's history prove

unsuccessful or unconvincing, this does not undermine the critical analysis
of the failings of traditional 'biblical' histories of Israel which have concentrated on the 'great men', monarchies, or imperial powers that have followed on from one another in the region. Yet underlying this surface
movement, as Braudel termed it, was a substratum that moved slowly to
the rhythms of time. The history of ancient Palestine, as told by biblical
scholars and archaeologists, has all too often been a history of ethnic difference and neat chronological divisions corresponding, supposedly, to
ethnic, material and cultural differences. The rhythms of time are ignored
in the search for that which separates, defines and makes exclusive. It is a
world that is barely recoverable from historical documents. Yet it is a living world nonetheless as Levi shows in his description of the hidden world
of the inhabitants of Gagliano (1982). It is on the bones of the peasant and
pastoral communities that the history of Palestine, from antiquity to the
present, moving to the rhythms of time, has been built. Far from being a
history without facts, as archaeologists have increasingly demonstrated, it
is a history that offers a different perspective on the region.
History and the Elite
Barr's unease with such a conception of history is enunciated in an interesting double principle. He states that 'the will to include whatever has
been omitted is entirely right, but anything that has been omitted should
be included only on the basis of actual evidence and not on the basis of
theories founded on modern sociopolitical drives' and then adds that 'the
prejudice against leadership and the elitecoming, as Carroll rightly notes,
almost always from persons enjoying modern elite positionsis to be absolutely repudiated' (2000: 149-50). It is not clear, however, what would
count as evidence for inclusion in Barr's history, apart from the characters
and events mentioned in the biblical texts or how mention of the importance of nomads in the past could be construed as based on modern sociopolitical drives.17 His second principle would rule out any critique of the
elite since biblical studies as a profession is not open to those who have
not been educated within the system. Does this mean that a rejection of
17. As Chomsky (1993: 16) notes, even Adam Smith writing in The Wealth of
Nations in 1776 recognized that the interests of the architects of policy were not those
of the general population: 'The fate of the common people is no more their concern
than that of the "mere savages" who stand in their way'.
415
poverty and exploitation can only come from the impoverished and exploited and that any person in a position of privilege who dares to question
the economic and social systems that condemn millions to poverty must be
'absolutely repudiated' because they are not suffering? Barr's second
principle is little more than what E.P. Thompson, in his classic The Making
of the English Working Class, termed 'the enormous condescension of posterity'(1980: 12).
Howard Zinn, when producing A People's History of the United States,
rejected the view of Henry Kissinger that 'history is the memory of states'
(1980: 9), preferring to view history from the perspective of the vast majority who had suffered the consequences of the policies of statesmen. Much
of what has passed as 'biblical history', and the type of history that Barr
now appears to endorse, is little more than a memory of states: the deeds of
morally autonomous individuals and unique events dug out of the narratives of the Hebrew Bible.18 Zinn's history tells the story of the discovery
of America from the viewpoint of the Arawaks who were enslaved and
annihilated by Columbus and those who followed in his wake, or the story
of the constitution from the standpoint of slaves. While aware of the limitations of his attempt to recapture 'people's history' and its partisanship,
he defends the attempt by noting that 'I am not troubled by that, because
of the mountain of history books under which we all stand leans so heavily
in the other directionso tremblingly respectful of states and statesmen
and so disrespectful, by inattention, to people's movementsthat we need
some counterforce to avoid being crushed into submission' (Zinn 1980:
570). Similarly, any attempt to articulate an alternative vision of the
region's history that emphasizes its rhythms and patterns is likely to be
crushed by the sheer weight of textbooks and statements which defend the
status quo of'biblical' histories of Israel.
18. Barr dismisses as 'no more than a fancy, not to be taken seriously' (2000: 156),
the view that German scholarship on the early Israelite monarchy was informed by the
experience of unification under Bismarck. He misleadingly states that 'we are sometimes told that German scholars were interested in David and Solomon because of the
reunification of Germany under the Empire' (2000: 156), when what has been argued is
that the model of the nation state has been imposed upon the Israelite past. See Evans
(1997: 26-27) for a discussion of historians and the nation-state as the primary object of
historical study.
416
Interested Parties
The reactions to recent directions in the study of the history of the region
confirm that the period of professed innocence in the study of Israelite
history is now at an end. It is often objected that the 'revisionists' have
politicized the discussion, when what they have really illustrated, and the
often ferocious reactions confirm, is that politics has always been entangled in the study of ancient Israel. The anxieties which have greeted recent
developments in the field as a whole stem, in large part, from a loss of
innocence arising from a period when a strong sense of objectivity was not
only the goal but the essential trapping of authoritative scholarship. Just as
David Clines (1998f: 614) described James Barr's Comparative Philology
and the Text of the Old Testament as a monument to the age of innocence
in philology, so his History and Ideology in the Old Testament stands as a
monument to those who mourn the loss of innocence in the study of Israelite history.19 His innocence is expressed in his dislike for 'theory' (Barr
2000:23-24) and his preference for 'traditional historical criticism', which
he claims was not dependent upon theory but 'largely on a body of proposals or insights (commonly called 'results') which people found by and large
convincing'. His so-called 'results', in the past seen as the assured results
of biblical studies, and the theories upon which they rest, should not be
accepted uncritically just because they represent the dominant position.
Academic arguments cannot be settled on the basis of head counts or
rejected as the position of a vocal minority. They have to be assessed on
their own merits in just the same way that Barr, in the past, rightly challenged the results and the assumptions of a dominant theology of revelation on which they rested.
It is questionable if Barr is as innocent as he first appears or wishes to
present himself. He complains that the increasing use of rhetorical analysis
of scholarly arguments implies a devaluation of reasoning:' "Your rhetoric"
suggests rather that you have some skill in stringing together words that
might persuade others of your opinion. Truth, evidences, and reason do
not come into it' (2000:29). Yet this profession of innocence can hardly be
taken seriously when one considers his complaint that George Ernest
19. Clines's (1998f: 616) judgment on the book could easily be applied to Barr's
views on history: 'What Barr has not factored into his assessment, and why he is more
puzzled than he need be, is the social location of the researchers (and critics), and the
power relations that stem from these locations'.
417
Wright's GodwhoActs (Wright 1952) is 'straight pulpit rhetoric'. His devastating critique (Barr 1980: 3) claimed that the book
left concealed the whole strongly historicist and naturalistic attitude with
which a man like Wright as a historian and archaeologist looked upon actual
historical events; this attitude was left to make itself felt later and through
different channels. The whole success and impact of the book depended on
this rhetorical concealment of the logical issue.
Those Barr wishes to dismiss as postmodernists are only following his

lead in insisting on the importance of examining the use of figures of
speech, stylistic and narrative devices, motifs and themes, and other poetic
and rhetorical elements in scholarly presentations of Israelite history (see
Berkhofer 1995: 88). Clines (1995:24), when discussing 'interestedparties'
within biblical studies, notes the tendency to deliberate or unconscious concealment that
on the surface, their texts lay claim to coherence and rationality, and they
give the appearance of sincerity and either moral fervour or objectivity. But
beneath the surface there are issues of power, of self-identity and security,
of group solidarity, of fear and desire, of need and greed, that have also
played a role in the production of the text, sometimes a leading role.
Barr can hardly claim that it is important to pay attention to Wright's

rhetorical strategy when assessing his argument but ignore his own or that
of various historians whose position he finds amenable. Issues of ideology
(theology) and power relations are critical aspects in the formulation and
assessment of all representations of Israelite or Palestinian history.
The appeal to a past Utopia, an appeal to Noth's 'moderate critical position' (2000: 81) which in terms of the monarchy onwards is little different
from an Albrightian reiteration of the biblical text, is an appeal for a return
to a period when a strong notion of objectivity dominated historical and
biblical studies. Methodologies and knowledge embodied in scholarly disciplines are not universal and timeless but socially and culturally constituted
and therefore historically specific like other realms in human affairs (Berkhofer 1995:1-2). Recent attacks on ideology, and appeals to objectivity and
facts, mark a return to the intellectual climate of the 1950s. It is surprising,
given the focus on ideology and objectivity, that Barr never refers to
Novick's classic study That Noble Dream: The 'Objectivity Question' and
the American Historical Profession, which argues that the pre- and postWorld War II periods saw American culture turn toward affirmation and
the search for certainty (Novick 1988: 281). At the time when the mobilization of American power was conceived as a permanent struggle on
418
behalf of the 'Free World' against 'totalitarianism', whether Fascist or

Communist, so the humanities and social sciences were an expression of
the demise of moral relativism and of the triumph of 'objective science'
and 'the objective fact' (Novick 1988:287). The celebratory tone of scholarship in this period, which is mirrored in the works of Albright and his
followers, both reflected and reinforced the confidence in objectivity. The
contemporary appeal to objective facts in the hope of a return to a postwar
Utopian landscape simply continues the delusion and the denial of the
interconnections between the academic and political realms. This is not
some passing postmodernist fad but reflects the long-standing view, highlighted in Carr's classic study What Is History? (1964), that historians and
the works they produce are the products of their own times, thereby bringing particular ideas and ideologies to bear on the past. Similarly, Evans
(1997:29) points out that World War I forced the realization on historians
that 'their faith in objectivity had accompanied their sense of living in an
ordered and predictable world'. Evans (1997:37), like Novick, locates the
triumph of objectivism in history in a particular time:
This reassertion of historical objectivity came at a time in the 1950s and
1960s when the historical profession was re-establishing itself, undergoing
slow but steady growth, and recapturing the social and financial position it
had enjoyed in the late nineteenth century.
The triumph of Albrightianism, with its concomitant belief in a strong

notion of objectivism, effectively sidelined an important strand in biblical
studies that emphasized the contextualization of historical writings and the
historian. For Wellhausen and biblical scholars at the turn of the nineteenth century the focus was upon the contextualization of the biblical narratives and their writers. At the turn of the present century, the focus has
shifted to the situation, ideology and rhetorical strategies of the modern
historian.
Is this loss of innocence to be feared or embraced? It would seem that,
at the turn of the century, we are being offered at least two alternative paths
to the future. For James Barr, and many within the discipline for whom he
speaks, the loss of innocence is to be rejected in favour of a return to a past
Utopia in which scholarship is disinterested and which produced objective
results. Alternatively, we can take the path of David Clines and enjoy the
postmodern adventure. Is this really such a nightmare world, an abrogation
of all that is best in our discipline? For Clines (1988e: 144), 'the postmodern
is nothing other than ourselves sceptical about ourselves, ourselves not
taking ourselves for grantedwhich is to say, the modern conscious of
419
itself. It is the re-evaluation of the studies and assumptions that have informed biblical scholarship over a century or more. As such, it is part and
parcel of the natural academic process of questioning dominant methods
and their 'assured results', something which every generation has to do for
itself. It has led to the recognition by a growing number of scholars that
our histories of Israel are not the products of'objective observers standing
outside the framework of some external reality they are trying to describe,
but interested parties with some personal or institutional ideological investment in the business of reconstructing the past' (Clines 1998e: 152). The
loss of innocence means that we can no longer ignore the political or ethical
consequences of the construction of Israelite or Palestinian history. Far from
being a plea for relativism, as many assert, there is now a stark choice of
direction between the perpetuation of exclusivist, narrowly nationalistic
readings of the past, on whichever side they fall, and attempts to offer an
inclusivist reading of the history of the region.20
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The History of Israel (London: A. & C. Black).
Novick, P.
1988
That Noble Dream: The 'Objectivity Question' and the American Historical
Profession (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).
Segovia, F.F.
2000
Decolonizing Biblical Studies: A View from the Margins (Maryknoll, NY:
Orbis Books).
Smith, A.
1976
The Wealth of Nations (Chicago: Chicago University Press [ 1776]).
Taylor, P.J., M.J. Watts and RJ. Johnston (eds.)
1995
Geographies of Global Change: Remapping the World in the Late Twentieth
Century (Oxford: Basil Blackwell).
Thompson, E.P.
1980
The Making of the English Working Class (London: Gollancz).
422
Turner, B.S. (ed.)

. 1990
Theories of Modernity and Postmodernity (Sage: London).
Ward, W.A., and M.S. Joukowsky (eds.)
1992
The Crisis Years: The Twelfth Century B. C.: From the Danube to the Tigris
(Dubuque, IA: Kendall/Hunt).
White, H.
1973
Metahistory: The Historical Imagination in Nineteenth-Century Europe (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press).
Whitelam, K.W.
1998
'The Social World of the Bible', in Barton (ed.) 1998: 35-49.
2002a
'Palestine during the Iron Age', in J. Barton (ed.), The Biblical World
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press): 391-417.
2002b
'The Poetics of the History of Israel: Shaping Palestinian History', in D.M.
Gunn and P.M. McNutt (eds.), 'Imagining'Biblical Worlds: Spatial, Social
and Historical Constructs in Honor of James W. Flanagan (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press): 277-96.
Wright, G.E.
1952
God who Acts: Biblical Theology as Recital (London: SCM Press).
Zinn, H.
1980
A People's History of the United States (London: Longman).
JUDGMENT AND HOPE IN ISAIAH 1.21 -26

H.G.M. Williamson
One of the most disputed questions with regard to the reconstruction of the
teaching of the historical Isaiah concerns what he said about the future.
The problem has been carefully surveyed and analysed by Barton (1995:
64-82). He shows that the relevant sayings in Isaiah 1-39 may be divided
by content into five groups, and that the likelihood of their deriving from
the eighth-century prophet varies considerably, depending in part upon
how they are interpreted. 'Oracles predicting certain defeat/disaster for
Judah', for instance, are likely to be authentic, while 'oracles about the
remote future' are less certain.
Isaiah 1.21 -26 comes into the mixed category of 'oracles predicting restoration after destruction' and, because this can be taken to imply the survival
of a remnant, it is often thought to bring us close to the heart of what may
have been a distinctive element in Isaiah's teaching. Furthermore, it is
among the relevant passages which are more commonly thought to derive
from Isaiah himself than not. Consequently, several studies of the wider
topic have deliberately made this passage their starting point (e.g. Herrmann
1965: 127-29; Hermisson 1973; Jensen 1981).
For all its importance and the degree of attention which it has already
received on account of these considerations, there remain some aspects of
the composition of the passage which have not been adequately appreciated,
in my opinion. Inevitably, the analysis presented here presupposes and
builds upon studies of other parts of this first chapter of Isaiah (Williamson
1995,1997,2002). In particular, I share with others the view that the chapter includes eighth-century material, even though it has been assembled at
a much later stage in order to serve as some sort of introduction to the
book of Isaiah as a whole. Consequently, it is likely (and the previous
studies bear this out) that on the one hand we may expect to find a combination of early material and later redactional additions to join the material
together and possibly to develop its thought further and that on the other
424
hand if early material has come to be included here it must have reached
the later editor from an original setting somewhere else among the recorded
sayings of Isaiah. It is difficult to see how else it could have survived so
long; Wildberger's suggestion that the core of the chapter existed 'as an
independent collection' (1980: 8) is impossible to credit.
In order to help make the discussion clear, I include a translation of the
relevant paragraph, even though space precludes any discussion of the
text-critical decisions upon which it is based. Fortunately, none of these
affects the major matters to be discussed in what follows.
2
'How she has become a whore,

the once faithful city;
full of justice,
righteousness used to lodge in herbut now murderers.
22
Your silver has become dross,
Your fine liquor adulterated with water.
23
Your rulers are rebels and partners with thieves;
each one loves a bribe and chases after gifts;
they do not take up the orphan's case, nor does the widow's cause come
before them.
24
Thereforesaying of the Sovereign, the Lord of Hosts, the Strong One of
Israel
Ah! I will relieve myself of my foes,
and avenge myself on my enemies,
25
and turn my hand against you.
I will smelt away your dross as with alkali,
and remove all your tin pollutants.
26
And I will restore your judges as at the first,
and your counsellors as at the beginning;
afterwards you will be called 'the city of righteousness',
'faithful city'.
There can be no doubt that, within the major unit which has been assembled by the compiler of ch. 1 as a whole, v. 21 begins a new section. The
concluding nature of v. 20 (which includes an inclusio with v. 2) is clear,
and v. 21 starts with its own introductory rD^K (cf. Lam. 1.1; 2.1; etc.).
There is less agreement, however, over whether the unit closes at v. 23,
26, 28 or 31 (for a full survey of opinion, see Willis 1986). Part of this
disagreement stems from a failure to appreciate the nature of the composition of ch. 1 as a whole. Once it is accepted that it has been assembled as a
redactional whole, there need be no objection to affirming both that v. 21
introduces a section which extends to the end of the chapter and that this is
itself made up of smaller paragraphs. Once this is grasped, it emerges
WILLIAMSON Judgment and Hope in Isaiah 1.21-26
425
clearly that the majority view is correct which sees w. 21-26 as such a
paragraph. Internally, it is held together form-critically, as we shall shortly
see, and by the reprise of some of the themes of w. 21-23 in 24-26 (the
image of refining silver and the obvious inclusio between 21 and 26).
Thus, to break the paragraph at v. 23 is unjustified.
Similarly, although there is a clear connection in thought with the verses
which immediately follow, that need not preclude us from seeing them as
a separate paragraph. There is no conjunction or other connection between
w. 26 and 27, there is a shift from second- to third-person address, and
the emphasis changes rather markedly. On the other hand, v. 29 is linked
closely to 28 by its initial ""3, so that to introduce a major break at this
point in justification for linking 27-28 with 21-26 is itself unwarranted.
The form of the passage is that of the classic prophetic judgment
speech: an indictment (21-23) followed by 'therefore' with an extended
messenger formula (24a), and then the announcement of judgment (24b25; on 26, see below). As often, the two main elements are verbally and
conceptually associated (see especially Westermann 1964: C and D; Wildberger 1980: 56-58; Sweeney 1996: 84-85). Within this overarching form,
the indictment takes the form of a funerary dirge (21), which is appropriately echoed in the exclamatory ''in at the start of the announcement of
judgment. This should not be regarded as a separate element, however; it
is well within the range of variations which the prophets, as creative speakers or writers, could use within a single genre.1
In turning to the inevitably speculative task of seeking to identify the
shape of the original material which the chapter's compiler may have inherited and adapted, we find that many small proposals for the deletion or
addition of words and phrases have been driven by the desire to make the
whole passage conform to the 3:2 rhythm of the lament. Budde's proposals
(1931: 31-35) have been particularly influential in this regard. In some
cases, there are additional supporting arguments, but in others not. A more
1. For this and many similar examples, see again Westermann 1980: D (esp. v. 4),
and further Hardmeier 1978: 348-54 (Hardmeier categorizes the opening verses as the
parody of an Untergangsliedrather than a funerary dirge; he is closely followed by
Stansell 1988: 57-60). Dobbs-Allsopp (1993: 148-52) draws attention to parallels with
the city-lament genre, including the restoration theme of v. 26. However, while the parallels need not be denied, the invective-plus-] D^-plus-announcement structure clearly
shows that the dominant genre is that of the judgment speech, and this must be taken
into account in consideration of v. 26 as well. It is a pity that Dobbs-Allsopp appears to
have been unaware of Hardmeier's work.
426
promising approach is to investigate whether we can detect the hand of the

chapter's compiler (with whose methods we are to some extent familiar) in
integrating the paragraph into his wider composition.
The most convincing candidate for the compiler's hand is the last line of
v. 23 (so, for instance, Vermeylen 1977: 73, who cites Budde 1931:33; Fey
1963: 64; and Vollmer 1971: 156 in support; see further Kaiser 1981: 53;
and Deck 1991: 146-47). The words are drawn almost entirely from the last
line of v. 17 and must be dependent upon it. The point being made is an
obvious one, namely, that the wayward 'rulers' of v. 23 are precisely those
who do not fulfil the demands on which escape from the threatened judgment depends according to w. 16-17. The line therefore functions very
well to help integrate one part of the chapter with another, and it cannot
have stood here before the chapter as a whole was assembled. In support
of this conclusion, we may note that the line as it stands is rhythmically
hopeless (even Budde gives up the attempt to improve it, and simply
deletes) and that it fits with the compiler's procedure elsewhere of using
catchwords and phrases to link one passage to another (for this, see, for
instance, w. 9-10 and 26-27, while v. 28 draws on w. 2-4).
It is probable that the last two words of v. 21, 'but now murderers', fit
into the same category. To the rhythmical argument that they overload the
line may be added the observation that, just as the last line of v. 23 draws
on the climax of 16-17, so these two words draw on the climax of the
indictment in 11 -15 ('your hands are full of blood'). They also introduce a
'personal' element which might not be expected before v. 23. The case is
not as strong here, because the vocabulary is different (though the use of
K'PE at the start of the line in v. 21 may have drawn attention to a parallel
with the end of 15), but since it fits conceptually with the strong case
based on v. 23, it seems plausible.2 Most commentators just delete the
words, but if they are to be attributed to the chapter's compiler, then clearly
they should be retained in terms of the text which he intended and which
we have inherited from him.
Verse 26 is usually taken as an integral part of the original paragraph,
and as such we have already noted that it has often been used as the basis
for reconstructing the nature of Isaiah's hopes for the future. There are
2. The argument that, on form-critical grounds, the phrase should be retained
because of the need to contrast 'Zion's glorious past with her woeful present' (DobbsAllsopp 1993: 149; cf. Janzen 1972: 58) is not compelling since this element in any
case follows immediately in w. 22-23. On p. 151, Dobbs-Allsopp himself categorizes
these two verses as an example of the 'reversal motif.
427
several reasons, however, which have not been previously noted, for
ascribing this verse to the compiler of the chapter in its final form rather
than to the original material which he inherited.
(1) Form-critically, the verse does not sit well with what precedes. As
we have seen, vv. 21-25 take the form of a standard prophetic judgment
speech, and a sudden switch to a climactic expression of hope for the
future is not to be expected. Peels (1995:110), for instance, finds the usual
combination of 'Scheltwort' and 'Drohwort' in w. 21-25, but then concludes that because of the inclusion of v. 26 the passage is 'a prophetic
word sui generis'. In fact, the effect of including v. 26 is to turn the whole
passage into what Hanson (1975: 162-63) has termed a 'salvation-judgment oracle', a form which he finds in several passages in Trito-Isaiah and
which, he argues, is a development of the classic judgment oracle not
attested prior to the sixth century. It is comparable with what Westermann
(1987: ch. 10) calls the 'fate of the godly, fate of the ungodly' group of
texts, which he also maintains are the result of later additions to early texts.
The effect of dividing the fate of the nation into two groups is, of course,
the result of the increasing individualization which characterizes the postexilic material in the book of Isaiah, even if its origins in general terms
may be traced as early as the late pre-exilic period (cf. Koenen 1994).
(2) Nothing in w. 21-25 prepares us for what comes in this verse.
Although from the imagery of refining it may legitimately be inferred that
something pure will emerge at the end, this is not the use to which the
previous verses put the image. Verses 24b-25 focus univocally on the
removal of the impurity, not the emergence of the good. The force of this
point is recognized by Deck (1991: 147).
(3) The renaming of the city of Jerusalem in the new age as a reversal of
its period of judgment is a characteristically Trito-Isaianic theme (see especially 62.4, 12; cf. 60.14, 18). More widely, this general theme is also
applied (often with the use of the same idiom as here) to the renaming of
the community, a notion already adumbrated to some extent in DeuteroIsaiah and the other exilic prophets; in Trito-Isaiah: 58.12; 61.3,6; 62.2; in
Deutero-Isaiah: 43.7; 48.1, 2 (and cf. 35.8); elsewhere: Jer. 3.17; 33.16;
Ezek. 48.35; Zech. 8.3. Neither the idiom nor the notion which it expresses
are found in earlier texts,3 and as in the case of some other elements in the
closing verses of this chapter which are widely recognized to have close
3. Professor Dobbs-AHsopp has kindly confirmed that to his knowledge this
particular notion of renaming is not included in any extra-biblical example of the citylament genre either, even though the general theme of restoration is, of course, attested.
428
parallels in Trito-Isaiah, it must be judged very probable that this verse

reflects comparable influence.
(4) The somewhat prosaic p""HriN which introduces the second line of
v. 26 does not occur elsewhere in Isaiah (or in any other pre-exilic prophet).
Although De Vries (1995:116) assumes that it is Isaianic here, the manner
of its use as he describes it in fact suggests a contrary conclusion: 'In any
case, this contrasting of epochs does not prove to be typical for Isaiah's
preaching' (117). More significantly, my colleague John Barton has pointed
out to me that the idea of a timetable of successive events in the future
which this phrase introduces is unparalleled and hence most improbable in
a pre-exilic prophet.4
(5) The reason why the verse is usually held together with 21-25 is, of
course, the inclusio with v. 21. In fact, however, this is not a device which
can be found elsewhere in Isaiah's own writing, but it is exactly what I
have shown in previous studies to mark the work of our chapter's compiler
when introducing or, as here, rounding off a section (see especially vv. 2,
10 and 20). This device, therefore, points away from v. 26 as part of the
original composition and in the direction of the compiler.
(6) The repetition of HTCJN1 (v. 25) at the start of the verse is again something which is characteristic of redactional additions in general (see, for
instance, the repetition of Dnn in 5.29 and 30 and my discussion in 1994:
135-36), and it is not foreign to our compiler's style (e.g. the references to
Sodom and Gomorrah in v. 10). Kaiser, who is one of the very few commentators to recognize that v. 26 is a separate addition, bases almost his
entire case on this point (1981: 54). Because this explains the repetition
according to an attested procedure, it seems to be preferable to the proposal of Fohrer (1991: 43) and Wildberger (1980: 65) to delete the first
three words of v. 25 as a later gloss, intended to nail down the identity of
the enemies of v. 24. In fact, the words in question fit their present context
perfectly and introduce a characteristically Isaianic picture into the description of the judgment; see, for instance, the use of God's 'hand' as an instrument of judgment in the refrain poem at 5.25; 9.11,16,20; 10.4. If the
words are taken as the climactic final element of a tricolon, there is no
reason not to retain them.
For these six reasons, I conclude that v. 26 was added by the redactor in
order to draw out the positive implications of what was only latent in the
earlier material. While the original saying in vv. 21-25 was a categorical
4. When I subsequently read his commentary on Joel, I discovered more of the
reasons on which this conclusion was based; see Barton 2001: 13, 92-94.
429
statement of impending judgment, the later compiler of ch. 1 saw in the

imagery of the removal of dross the possible implication that anything
which then remained would survive as a purified remnant. Since, as I have
argued, this dates to the postexilic period and so follows the 'fulfilment' of
the predicted judgment in the fall of Jerusalem to the Babylonians, he will
not have been unjustified in applying this positive potential to the restored
community of which he was a member. Such a reuse of words of judgment
in order later to give expression to hope is again attested elsewhere, both
in Isaiah, where the ending of ch. 6 is a parade example, and beyond (e.g.
the concluding verses of Amos, on which see Groves 1987: 179-91).
A possible objection that may be raised against this conclusion is the
supposed concentric structure which some have found in w. 21-26. This is
presented slightly differently by different commentators, but may typically
be summarized as 24b corresponding to 23, 25 to 22,26a to 21b and 26b
to 2la.5 On closer inspection, however, this argument is not so strong as it
initially appears. While the echo of 21 in 26 is readily accepted, it is not so
intricate as the structure suggests, since the most obvious connection with
21b is 'righteousness', which comes in 26b, not 26a as proposed. In fact,
there is no clear echo of 2 Ib in 26a at all. If 26a refers to anything specific
in the previous verses, it is 23, part of which we have seen to be the work
of the final editor. Once this is recognized, then the proposed structure
does little more than draw attention to a commonplace, attested frequently
elsewhere, namely, that an announcement of judgment often echoes the
indictment with which it is related. In this case, the most obvious connection is, of course, the 'dross' image (22 and 25, though note that the latter
does not make any reference to the liquor image of 22b), while 24b may
certainly be said to announce judgment against those condemned in 23a,
though without the use of a single word in common. Thus, on the understanding of the original shape of this passage outlined above, it may be
suggested that 21 formed a generalized introduction, followed by a twopart indictment (22 and 23a), which, following the speech formula (24a),
was answered by the announcement of judgment in reverse order (or chiastically, if that terminology be preferred) in 24b and 25 (an ABCC'B'
pattern). This seems as satisfying as the proposed concentric pattern, but
the important point to make is that such patterns can rarely be used to predetermine literary-critical judgments; rather, they should follow the results
5. So, for instance, Fey 1963:64, followed by Wildberger 1980:57-58; Hardmeier
1978: 349-50; Becker 1997: 193; andBerges 1998:69; differently Vermeylen 1977:71;
Deck 1991: 146.
430
of such an analysis in a descriptive manner. Finally, when v. 26 was added

by the compiler, he based its conclusion (26b) on the whole of 21 in line
with his practice elsewhere. Verse 26a is not concentrically integrated, but
rather furnishes a reversal of the whole of the indictment.
I thus conclude that the form of saying which the compiler inherited
comprised 21 (without DTIUIQ nfUM)-23a + 24-25. The Isaianic authorship of this passage has been almost universally accepted: its theme (especially once v. 26 is regarded as later), language and use of imagery all fit
his work as known from elsewhere extremely well. The few voices which
have more recently been raised against this consensus have not found
favour. In particular, Vermeylen's extended analysis of the vocabulary
(1977: 80-93) fails in its claim to establish Deuteronomic overtones: the
words to which he appeals are far too general for such a conclusion, and
there is no example of stereotypical Deuteronom(ist)ic phraseology (see,
for instance, the terse critique by Blum 1996: 564 n. 75, and more fully
H0genhaven 1988: 56-57). Moreover, against Robertson (1934: 235) and
Kaiser (1981: 53-54), we have seen that there are strong form-critical
reasons for maintaining the essential unity of the passage, and the fact that
certain parts of the passage could fit later periods well (see, for instance,
the parallels pressed by Becker 1997: 194 with parts of Lamentations and
the theme of refining, which recurs in Jeremiah and Ezekiel) is no argument that they must therefore have been composed then. The fact that it
has been possible to distinguish rather clearly the additions made by the
chapter's compiler indicates that he was working with inherited material
here, in marked contrast with the closing verses of the chapter.
It is usually argued that the fact that life in the city seems to be proceeding as normal, together with the lack of reference to any specific crisis,
such as the Assyrian invasion of 701 BCE, points to a date within the first
part of Isaiah's ministry (for a review of the very few who have favoured a
late-Isaianic date, see Willis 1986: 243-45). Even if the Assyrian practice
of deportation lies behind the imagery of refining, there is no need to
doubt that this would have been known about in Jerusalem long before the
Judaeans came to have first-hand experience of it for themselves.
On the assumption that this is right, then a final speculation may be
allowed as to the place at which this material might originally have stood
in an earlier form of the book of Isaiah and from which the chapter's compiler would have moved it. There are only three other passages in the first
half of the book of Isaiah where Zion is addressed in the second person
singular, and of these 3.25 gives us the obvious points of connection we
431
are looking for.6 At 3.16 there is the clear start to a new section, where
'the daughters of Zion' are the subject of invective in the third person
feminine plural. After the later addition of the list of finery in vv. 18-23,
this main theme is resumed in v. 24. Verse 25, which follows, does not
seem to fit, however: it is addressed to a second person feminine singular,
'Your (sg.) men shall fall by the sword, and your warriors in battle'. Verse
26 is again awkward, since it moves to a third person feminine reference,
apparently Jerusalem: 'And her gates shall lament and mourn; ravaged,
she shall sit upon the ground'. Finally, 4.1 (4.2 starts a new section) reverts
to the women, and so could be either an original continuation of 3.24 or
yet another fragment. Its theme looks like a close counterpart to 3.6, the
women now suffering a fate which is comparable to that of the men. Older
commentators were inclined to change some of the suffixes in order to
smooth out the difficulties caused by these sudden switches in person, but
this is by no means certain; there are other passages in Isaiah where similar
phenomena are more likely to be explained as the result of redactional
activity.
In the present case, it may be claimed that 3.25 would fit very comfortably as the original continuation of 1.21-25. Just as the imagery of debased
silver in 1.22 is explained in 23a as a reference to rebellious rulers, so the
refining image of 1.25 would be explained by the defeat in battle of 3.25.
This too could make for an attractive literary pattern of a different sort
from that discussed earlier: an introductory cry (21) followed by the image
of corruption (22) and explanation (23a); then, in close parallel, an introductory divine cry of vengeance in 24, followed by the image of refining
(25) and explanation (3.25). This would make for a satisfying complete
paragraph on its own. One could well see how 1.21-25+3.25 could have
stood after 3.16-24 in an earlier version of the collection of Isaiah's sayings. There is a tidy move from the women of Jerusalem to the city itself
depicted as a woman (H]1T). The compiler of ch. 1 will have broken off his
use of the original passage, of course, because he wanted to be able to
6. This was suggested previously by Barth 1977: 220 n. 48. The other two passages are 12.6, which can obviously be discounted for these purposes, and 29.1-5. If
1.21-25 were from the latter part of Isaiah's ministry, a setting before 29.1 might be
considered (note, for instance, the unusual use of mp in 1.21 and 29.1, and the use of
11
in in both 1.24 and 29.1; indeed, H0genhaven [ 1988: 57] uses these and other points
of comparison to uphold a late date for 1.21-26. His argument depends on 1.26, however, which we have seen should not be attributed to Isaiah himself). However, 29.1
seems to be fully satisfactory as the start of a section, and it does not demand that
anything once stood before it.
432
develop the positive implications of 1.25 rather than end on the note of
defeat in battle, which was Isaiah's own original intention in using the
image.
It is therefore gratifying to be able to conclude, so far as this particular
paragraph is concerned, that the expression of a bright hope for the future
was the outcome of reflection on an inherited text by a scholarly editor. I
hope that David Clines feels fully at home in the company.
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Vermeylen, J.
1977
Du prophete Isai'e a I'apocalyptique: Isaie, I-XXXV, miroir d'un demimillenaire d'experience religieuse en Israel, I (Etudes Bibliques; Paris:
Gabalda).
Vollmer, J.
1971
Geschichtliche Ruckblicke und Motive in der Prophetic des Amos, Hosea
und Jesaja (BZAW, 119; Berlin: W. de Gruyter).
Westermann, C.
1964
Grundformen prophetischer Rede (BEvT, 31; Munich: Chr. Kaiser Verlag
[I960]).
434

1987
Prophetische Heilsworte im Alien Testament (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck &

Ruprecht).
Wildberger, H.
1980
Jesaja 1-12 (BKAT, 10/1; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag
[1972]).
Williamson, H.G.M.
1994
The Book Called Isaiah: Deutero-Isaiah 's Role in Composition and Redaction
(Oxford: Clarendon Press).
1995
'Synchronic and Diachronic in Isaian Perspective', in J.C. de Moor (ed.),
Synchronic or Diachronic? A Debate on Method in Old Testament Exegesis
(OTS, 34; Leiden: E.J. Brill): 211-26.
1997
'Relocating Isaiah 1:2-9', in C.C. Broyles and C.A. Evans (eds.), Writing
and Reading the Scroll of Isaiah: Studies of an Interpretive Tradition (2
vols.; VTSup, 70-71; Leiden: E.J. Brill): I, 263-77.
2002
'Biblical Criticism and Hermeneutics in Isaiah 1,10-17', in C. Bultmann, W.
Dietrich and C. Levin (eds.), Vergegenwartigung des Alien Testaments:
Beitrdge zur biblischen Hermeneutik. Festschrift for Rudolf Smendzum 70.
Geburtstag (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht): 82-96.
Willis, J.T.
1986
'Lament ReversedIsaiah l,22ff.', ZAW98: 236-48.
LOVE AND HATRED IN A MULTIRACIAL SOCIETY:
THE DINAH AND SHECHEM STORY IN GENESIS 34

IN THE CONTEXT OF GENESIS 28-35
Ellen J. van Wolde
The story of Dinah and Shechem in Genesis 34 describes a situation in

Canaan's multiracial society. The autochthonous people, the Hivites of
Shechem, come in contact with the recently arrived Jacob family, with
disastrous effects. At the end of the story none of the Hivite men is still
alive, all massacred by two of Jacob's sons. Why is this story part of the
book of Genesis? And what position does it defend? The history of biblical exegesis shows that this text is usually read as a rape story, and the
question is seldom raised about the function of such a rape story within the
framework of the Jacob cycle. At the same time it can be argued that Genesis 34 should be read as a love story. But again the same question can be
raised. In this article, I will start with these opposing autonomous readings
of Genesis 34, and subsequently I will seek to demonstrate that only a contextual study of Genesis 34, that is, a study of this text in the immediate
context of Genesis 28-35, can answer the question about its position and
function. The multilayered exegesis that will be offered here has its master
in David Clines and it is an honour for me to present this study in his Festschrift. He, more than any exegete I know of, has elucidated the multiplicity of meanings of biblical texts and challenged the defenders of simple
views and singing in unison.
A Rape Story
It all started with Dinah's action. 'Dinah went out to "see among" [cf. Alter
1996: 189] the daughters of the land.' The verb 2T, 'go out' or 'leave',
shows that the vantage point of the narrator is 'here', and by using this
word he seems to share the place of the people Dinah is leaving. She presumably arrives at the place she intended to go to, because in the next
436
verse she is already there. Verse 2 shares Shechem's vantage point: he sees
an unknown woman and performs some actions, described by the verbs
Op1?, DN 3D> and HUD. 1 In modern exegesis one generally maintains that
v. 2 describes force, although some argue that the verb nDU indicates that
'Shechem "raped" Dinah', and others take one of the other verbs as a
marker of violent actions.2 However, in three recent studies it is stated that
there is no justification, as far as the verb H3I7 is concerned, for the conclusion that the encounter is a violent one (Wyatt 1990; Bechtel 1994; Gruber
1999). Some short semantic remarks about these verbs, therefore, are in
order.
With regard to the verb Pip1?, Schmid (1971) and Seebass (1984) demonstrate convincingly that the verb's basic meaning is not characterized by the
idea of 'seize', 'force' or 'violence', but expresses the act of 'taking' as an
action initiated by a responsible subject, in which very often spatial movements are involved. Thus, the verb rip1? appears to indicate both the act of
'getting' and a spatial aspect: one takes from one place to another place,
from another place to one's own, takes away and carries off. Therefore,
one has to conclude that in Gen. 34.2a the verb rip1? indicates that Shechem
'takes her' in the sense of 'transfers her to his own house'. This is confirmed
by v. 26, where Dinah's brothers take (rip1?) Dinah from Shechem's house
and transfer her home, so that this act can be understood as the reversal of
Shechem's taking in v. 2.3 It is most remarkable indeed that Dinah's
1. The Septuagint translates none of these words by 'violence', 'abuse' or 'rape',

whereas the Vulgate renders the Hebrew verb Ftp *? by rapuit. In the rabbinic tradition
some take np"? as a description of abduction', whereas others consider D8 3DKJ as the
expression of the crime, viz. enforced sexual intercourse (Bereishis-Genesis 1997).
2. Sternberg (1985:446) renders HJU as 'abuse'. Sarna (1989:233) holds the three
verbs in Gen. 34.2 to be an indication of the increasing severity of the violence: whereas
the first verb np1? simply means 'to take', the second verb 3DEJ with the preposition J"IN
'to sleep with' points to the fact that Dinah is treated as an object, and it culminates in
the third verb HDU which shows that Shechem 'raped' her. Freedman (1990) holds that
H3U refers to illicit sexual intercourse, although not to rape. Fewell and Gunn (1991)
may differ in many respects from Sternberg, but still consider the verbs in Gen. 34.2 to
refer to rape. Noble (1991) adheres to Steinberg's position. Frymer-Kinsky (1992:194)
conceives H3S7 as a denotation of illicit sex. Brenner (1997: 96 n. 14) writes that 'Previous consensus decrees that this verb (HD17), especially where it occurs with other lexemes offeree", "physical force" designates "rape"'. Amit (2000:191) adheres to Brenner's view. Scholz (2000: 136,138) suggests the possibility of hendiadys, in which the
three verbs express the single action of rape.
3. Wyatt (1990: 439) comes to the same conclusion: 'This indicates that the verb
VANWOLDE Love and Hatred in a Multiracial Society
437
transference to Shechem's house is not preceded by his going away or

leaving, but by Dinah's leaving. This is extraordinary in the social domain
in which to take the initiative of leaving is prototypically reserved for men.
The verb 3DCJ, 'to lie down', occurs in the Hebrew Bible with the prepositions DD andnN, both indicating 'have sexual intercourse with'. Orlinsky
(1944) made an analysis of all the biblical material in which both collocations, DI7 3D& and PIK IO5J, occur, and demonstrated convincingly that
there is no semantic difference between them. They both refer to the act of
sexual intercourse, and no difference derives from the allegedly transitive
or intransitive character of the verb or from the legal or illegal, licit or
illicit, voluntary or forced character of the sexual act. Thus, the verb indicates in Gen. 34.2 that 'Shechem had sexual intercourse with Dinah'.
Thirdly and finally, the verb H3I? occurs in seven biblical texts in the piel
with a woman as object, namely, Gen. 16; 31.43-54; 34; Deut. 21.10-14;
22.13-29; Judg. 19.22-20.7 and 2 Samuel 13. In an extensive study (van
Wolde 2002) I demonstrated that this verb refers to the act of debasement
in a social-judicial perspective, often in relation to the social debasement
of the men related to her. It does not describe Shechem's rape or sexual
abuse of Dinah, but evaluates Shechem's previously described actions
('take' and 'sleep with') as a debasement of Dinah from a social-juridical
point of view. This is confirmed by the Septuagint, which translates H3 J? in
the Hebrew Bible with TairEivoco, 'make low', 'make humble'.
In conclusion, a semantic study of these three verbs shows that v. 2 does
not describe rape.
A Love Story
The events told in v. 2 have a strong effect on Shechem, described in v. 3
with 3 1C3B3 p31, 3718 and 3crb:J 131. The meaning of the first term p31
clusters tightly around spatial proximity, indicating 'be close by', 'keep
close', 'adhere', 'cling'. The verb p31 is collocated here with the subject
&33. Three times in the Hebrew Bible this collocation occurs, and all three
usages express how a person shows a complete attachment to someone or
something.4 Thus, in Gen. 34.3 this word combination designates the state
does not have a purely sexual function in v. 2, but rather has the sense that Shechem
took the girl into his house, from which she was later removed'.
4. Ps. 63.9: 'my very self is attached to you' ("fin '2JS3 np31); Ps. 119.25: 'my
very self attaches to dust' flftM ISUb npin). In Gen. 34.3 (TlD-n IttJS] paim) the
preposition 3 is used.
43 8
or process in which Shechem's whole person is caught up with or adheres

to Dinah. His very self is involved with her. The second verb D!"IN, 'love',
confirms this involvement, because it expresses Shechem's strong emotions towards her. He loves her; his attitude and behaviour is one of deep
affection.
Consequently and in accordance with these feelings, 'he spoke to the
heart of the young woman'. Dinah is addressed here as a (grammatically)
independent subject unrelated to the speaker, and as someone with a heart
or personality of her own. This is the first (and last) time Dinah is treated
by someone as a person, who presumes that she has her own vantage point.
Not by the narrator though, because he does not show her reaction.
Shechem's new behaviour is amplified in v. 4: he wants to marry her.
He asks his father 'take for me this girl as a wife'. He joins his father in
his visit to Jacob and his sons, to ask for Jacob's daughter's hand. He is
prepared to give anything they ask from him and his family, if only they
allow him to marry her. His plea in v. 13 is moving: 'Please, please show
me your favour, whatever you will ask, I will give, but please give me the
young woman as a wife'. That is what Shechem aims for, a proper marriage, and his urgent demand on his father in v. 4 perfectly fits the official
terms of a legal arrangement of marriage. The subsequent actions of Hamor
and Shechem, described in w. 8,9,12,16 and 21, are in complete accordance with this legal procedure and expressed by the words commonly
used to indicate marriage. Although Jacob's household is brought into a
difficult position by the debasement of Dinah, there still is a solution. It is
not an insoluble problem, as Exod. 22.15-16 and Deut. 22.28-29 show us.
These texts present the appropriate procedure in cases like this: a correction
can still be made, if the legal procedure is carried out properly, that is, if
the man pays the bride-price to the Jacob family and if they give their
daughter to him legally.
What about Dinah? Two data may reveal something of Dinah's feelings.
If Dinah hated Shechem after he had taken her home and had intercourse
with her, she would have been able to leave the place as soon as possible.
But in v. 26 it turns out that she stayed there; if not, she could not have
been taken by her brothers out of Shechem's house. Another indication of
Dinah's attitude might be deduced from v. 3, which tells that Shechem
adhered to her, loved her and spoke to her for the first time as someone
with her own personality. Before this all happened, nobody shared her perspective; and after this has happened, nobody will share her perspective.
Only in relationship with Shechem is she given shape as a character: she is
VAN WOLDE Love and Hatred in a Multiracial Society
439
referred to as a young marriageable woman and as a girl; she is addressed

as a person with a heart and a view. And would Dinah not be in love with
him? They had sex together, and Shechem started to love her afterwards,
so that one may conclude that it was (at least from his point of view) a
successful meeting. Could Dinah not be emotionally involved?
So, for the time being the conclusion can be drawn that Genesis 34 is a
love story, with Shechem and Dinah as another Romeo and Juliet. Both
are young and naive. Threats are everywhere, because he is a member of
the Hivite family living in the city of Shechem and she is a member of the
Jacobite family living in a tent facing the city of Shechem. So we have two
rival families as in ancient Verona, but are these two households 'both
alike in dignity', as in Shakespeare's play?
A Story of Hatred
The dignity of the Jacob family can be detected from their words and
deeds. The words of Jacob's sons are reported in vv. 14-15:
We cannot do this thing, to give our sister to a man who has a foreskin, for
that is a disgrace for us. Only in this we consent to you, if you will be like
us, every male to be circumcised.
The Jacobites' line of argumentation is clear: (1) They start by saying

no. (2) They proceed to talk about Shechem's person, not about his previous actions: they identify him as a man with a foreskin. (3) They lay down
a condition and speak about complete identity ('you will be like us'), and
then they concentrate on one aspect (circumcision). They do not, however,
elucidate how these two areas are related, as is shown by the loose grammatical link in which the protasis of the condition (indicated by DN) is
related by an infinitive to the apodosis, 'every male to be circumcised'. In
other words, by stipulating a condition, Jacob's sons disguise partial identity ('every male among you to be circumcised') as complete identity ('you
are as we are'). This is the suggestive inference they impose on the Shechemites, as if the removal of one difference (the foreskin) would create
complete identity. Thus Jacob's sons talk about the unity of two families/
peoples. They explicitly say so in v. 16: 'we will become one people'. This
is their most essential point: they suggest that such a unity is possible by
removing one difference. And the narrator warns us: 'They spoke deceitfully' (v. 13).
Deceitful, indeed, were their words, because after the Shechemites circumcised themselves, 'Two sons of Jacob, Simeon and Levi, took their
440
swords, came upon the city unopposed and killed every male. They killed
Hamor and Shechem by the mouth of the sword' (w. 25-26). One has to
conclude: the story according to two sons of Jacob is not a love story, but
a story of hatred. They talk about becoming one people, but they actually
kill and murder the other people. It is, actually, one of the shortest descriptions of genocide in history, "Orta IJTPI. A whole town massacred in
three words.5
The other sons of Jacob plunder the town, seize the flocks and herds,
loot the city and take the wives and children as captives. The comparison
is made clear between what happened to Dinah ('the two sons of Jacob
took Dinah from Shechem's house', v. 26) and what happened to the
wives in Shechem ('the sons of Jacob took the wives and children as captives', v. 27): all women and children, cattle and goods are taken away.
In the final dialogue between Jacob and his two sons (w. 30-31), Jacob
does not talk about Dinah or about the murders committed by his sons, but
about the consequences of war or violence for himself and his house.
Twice he depicts it as if it were an action executed upon him: 'I will be
destroyed, I and my house'. Jacob is talking about other men as a threat to
his own house, whereas he and his house have been a threat to others.
The Narrator in Genesis 34
A narrator tells a story, selects the material, arranges it and chooses the
perspectives. In a story, the indirect narrator's texts are very influential.6
5. The question can be raised whether or not one can speak of 'the holocaust of
the Shechemites'. The word 'holocaust' (although it originally referred to the burnt
offering) is used today to refer to the systematic mass murder of the European Jews by
the Nazis. Those who oppose the use of this word for genocides other than the Shoah
of the Jews claim that the holocaust of the Jews was unique and sui generis because
nothing comes anywhere near the enormity of the holocaust. The holocaust was horrible, but the prohibition to use this term for other people denies that other genocides
were and are horrible too. To claim the uniqueness of the use of this term is in itself a
product of exclusive thinkingas if there is a hierarchy in suffering. The universality
of human rights is based on the fact that no one wants his or her body to be beaten,
battered, mistreated, raped, starved or murdered, be it individually murdered or systematically massacred. By using the term 'holocaust' to describe the massacre of the Shechemites by two sons of Jacob, one could exactly point at this feature: no one can claim
exclusiveness in murder or in suffering.
6. A narrator does not tell merely about actions by characters or about situations
but also looks through the eyes of the characters and speaks through their mouths. The
441
These are texts which present the mental awareness (perception, experience, cognition) of a character, but the words are the narrator's. These texts
often occur after verbs of perceiving or knowing attributed to a character.
In these cases the narrator is responsible for the words (which differs from
direct speech, in which the character is responsible for the words), and the
character is presented as responsible for the contents. These indirect narrator's texts are very influential in the guidance of the reader. Five indirect
narrator's texts occur in Genesis 34.
The first indirect narrator's text appears in v. 5, 'Jacob heard that he
defiled Dinah, his daughter'. This verse presents the mental awareness of
Jacob in the words of the narrator. It is the narrator who uses the word NQtD
to describe Shechem's act. This verb in the qal means 'be or become cultically impure or unclean', the niphal 'defile oneself, the piel 'make impure, make unclean, defile, desecrate, always ritually' or 'declare cultically
unclean'.7 In all these uses, this verb (and its cognate nouns) stands out
against a cultic and ritual cognitive domain.8 In the piel, the form in which
it occurs here, the verb is never characterized by the idea of 'defile' in the
sense of 'dishonour' or 'sexual abuse' but rather by the concept of (un)cleanness, which is religiously defined and regulated according to ritual
laws of purification and purgation. By using the word NQB as a description
of what Jacob heard about Shechem, the narrator evaluates Shechem's acts
in a socio-religious context.
The second indirect narrator's text is presented in vv. 7d and 7e, where
the narrator presents his own reflections to explain the Jacobites' feelings
of anger: 'The men were very distressed and angry, for he had done a
shocking thing in Israel by sleeping with Jacob's daughter; such a thing
ought not to be done'. It is remarkable that this explanatory clause refers
to 'Israel', which does not exist yet. This reference apparently functions as
a trigger: it opens a new sub-world, a setting with its own temporal and
narrator then surrenders the observation or narrative point of view to these characters in
the narrative, so that the character's texts (or discourses) that are embedded in the narrator's text emerge. Both narrator's text and character's text (discourse) can be represented directly or indirectly so that a distinction can be made between (a) a direct
narrator's text ('She was tired'); (b) an indirect narrator's text ('She felt tired'); (c) an
indirectly represented discourse ('She said that she was tired'); and (d) a directly represented discourse ('She said, "I am tired"'). For an extensive description and application
seevanWolde 1995.
7. See BDB, 379; DCH, IV, 67; Gesenius18, II, 424; NIDOTTE, II, 365-76.
8. A concentration of this verb occurs in Leviticus, esp. Lev. 10-16 and 18-20,
which deals with ritual physical impurity and its religious consequences.
442
spatial frame, which transgresses the borders of the text world of Genesis
34. In this sub-world, the behaviour of someone (an unnamed general
subject) that is judged as unacceptable in Israel is linked by an infinitive
'sleep' to an object area only described as 'the daughter of Jacob'. Although the infinitive does not specify person, gender and number nor an
explicit subject, it appears to imply Shechem as subject: Shechem's sleeping with the daughter of Jacob is thus presented as a specification of the
general n bDD: it is shocking and absolutely intolerable. In this way, Shechem's act is transferred to the world as the Israelite reader knows it, and, in
this setting, Shechem's act is evaluated as disgraceful and unacceptable.
This transfer is presented as a pretext for the text to come.
The third indirect narrator's text in which the narrator exerts explicit
influence is v. 13. Shortly before Jacob's sons start to speak, the narrator
says: 'They spoke of him who had defiled Dinah, their sister'. Verse 13b
appears to lack syntactic cohesion and the use of "IKJN is rather unusual.
This irregular linguistic structure shows that Jacob's sons do not use the
verb NQC3, 'defile', but that the narrator presents it as part of their deliberations, providing it as a cause for their deceitful planning and delusive
words. The words are the narrator's, but the awareness is the sons', as the
reference to Dinah as 'their' sister indicates. Earlier, in v. 5, the narrator
had called her Dinah in relationship to Jacob, and he used the term NDB,
'he defiled Dinah, his daughter', to describe Shechem's act. And in v. 13
the narrator uses her name in relationship to the sons of Jacob in connection with the verb 'defile'. By referring to Dinah as 'their sister' here, the
act of defilement is directly linked to Jacob's sons, whereas in v. 5 this
defilement was linked to Jacob.
The fourth indirect narrator's text contains the verb NQD, 'defile', again:
'They plundered the city, because they had defiled their sister' (v. 27).
This verse differs from the indirect narrator's text in v. 5 ('Jacob heard
that he had defiled Dinah, his daughter') where Jacob's perception was
presented in the words of the narrator. Here in v. 27 the defilement is not
explicitly presented as a perception of Jacob's sons, although it is implied
by the narrator that it is the Jacobites' judgment. The plural form of the
verb NQE is linked ungrammatically to the city (a singular noun), and
semantically it is a coloured and even wrong evaluation, for previously only
one man, Shechem, had had sexual intercourse with one woman, Dinah,
which was evaluated by this cultic term for defilement. By using this very
same verb in a plural form, the narrator expresses his own evaluation as
that of the Jacobites in which all Shechemites are made responsible.
443
The narrator's influence on the representation of the story is, therefore,

substantial. The evaluative verb 'defile' is used three times by the narrator:
when he tells us about Jacob's perception that Shechem defiled his daughter
Dinah; as part of the deliberations of Jacob's sons, where he provided it as
cause for their deceitful planning and delusive words; and, finally, at the
moment they loot the city of Shechem. Thus both the use of the verb NOB
and the moments of presentation are very selective indeed, grounding the
feelings and the behaviour of the Jacobites. By the triple use of the term
'defile' the narrator places the Jacobites' mental awareness in a strong
socio-religious condemnation of Shechem's behaviour. This is confirmed
and emphasized by v. 7: 'for he had done a shocking thing in Israel by
sleeping with Jacob's daughter; such a thing ought not be done', where the
narrator presents his judgment openly and directly in a direct narrator's
text (in which he is responsible for both the judgment/observation and the
way it is phrased). In this way, Shechem's act is transferred to the world or
setting of the Israelite reader and condemned in the severest terms
possible: it is a disgrace.
The narrator's contribution to the story is visible in aspects other than the
indirect narrator's texts as well. Above, I indicated that v. 3d is an evaluative narrator's text, in which the narrator used the verb HDU, 'debase', as an
evaluation of Shechem's behaviour. Hence, the reader was strongly guided
not to read it as rape but as a degradation of the Jacob family. Because the
narrator selected as he did and because he defined what Israel was supposed
to do (v. 7), in addition to the way he described Shechem's acts as defilement, one might conclude that the narrator supports Jacob's sons' views.
Perhaps he does not condone their massacre, although he seems to consider it irrelevant. Last but not least, the way the narrator opens and ends
his storytelling is revealing indeed. He starts with 'Dinah went out': her
leaving is foregrounded. Her intention to contact the daughters of the land
is emphasized by the irregular use of the preposition H: her action links her
with the daughters of the land. He finishes by placing the two sons' rhetorical question at the end of the story. The story ends in the middle of
their directly represented speech. Thus, the reader is encouraged to share
the sons' point of view. Their final words are 'our sister a whore'. They talk
about leaving and cleaving: Dinah's leaving implies mixing with other people, and Shechem's cleaving might lead to becoming one people. The
narrator defends Jacob's sons' mono-ethnic position and reinforces it by
grounding it in an Israelite socio-religious framework.
444

Genesis 34 in the Context of Genesis 28-35
Why is this story presented in the book of Genesis? And what position
does it take in the Jacob cycle? We have not heard of Dinah before, apart
from the report of her birth in 30.21, and will not hear from her any more,
so the focus point in Genesis surely is not Dinah. So, what is it focused
upon? A short contextual study of Genesis 34 can elucidate this.
In Gen 33.18-20, that is, in the verses immediately preceding ch. 34, it
was reported that Jacob, on his way from Paddan-aram, 'came to the city
of Shechem, which is in the land of Canaan, encamped before the city and
erected there an altar and called it "El Elohe Israel"'. These verses are the
last lines of ch. 33, in which the family problems between Jacob and his
brother Esau were resolved with Esau's brotherly kiss (33.4) and with
Esau's acceptance of Jacob's blessing (33.10). The narrative tension previously built up in Genesis 25-33 has finally come to an end (cf. Blum 2001:
229), and Esau and Jacob go their own ways (33.12-16). Now a new episode begins and Jacob starts to live his own life in Canaan. At this very
moment the text starts with a description of his return into Canaan (33.1820), in which reference is made to the time he left the country (28.10-20).
The two texts have some characteristics in common: both texts (a) mention
the flight to and return from Paddan-aram, (b) use the term 'safely' (01 ^tzn
in 28.21 and D ÛJ in 33.18) and (c) describe the building of an altar. Therefore, the difference catches the eye: in Genesis 28, Jacob promised to build
an altar in Bethel, and now in Genesis 33 he actually builds an altar in
Shechem, which he calls 'El Elohe Israel'. In this context, the name Israel in
Jacob's mouth can only refer to Jacob himself because he received this
name in the Jabbok scene in Genesis 32: thus, the altar in Shechem is called
'El, the God of Israel'.9
Immediately following the story of Dinah and Shechem, Gen. 35.1
shows that God gives his command to Jacob to leave Shechem in order to
go to Bethel and build an altar there. In response to God's exhortation to
leave Shechem, Jacob orders his household to get rid of the foreign gods
and to purify themselves, and he continues: 'Come, let us go up to Bethel,
and I will build an altar there to the God who answered me when I was in
distress and who has been with me wherever I have gone' (35.3). The narrator confirms that 'he buried them [the foreign gods] under the terebinth
that is near Shechem' (35.4). Thus, Shechem is associated with foreign
9.
Blum (2001: 233) proposes to translate it as 'really a God is the God of Israel'.
445
gods and idolatry. The altar built by Jacob in Shechem in Gen. 33.20 is
replaced by the altar in Bethel in Gen. 35.7. 'El, the God of Israel' is now
called 'El, the God of Bethel' (35.7). Both texts (Gen. 33.18-20 implicitly
and Gen. 35.1-3 explicitly) refer back to Gen. 28.10-20, where Jacob's
God was related to Bethel.
The text of Gen. 28.10-20 is crucial indeed. In this brief story, concerning which I can point only to some elementary features, the word DlpQH,
'the place', has an important place. It is repeated six times. The first time
is when Jacob left Beer-sheba and set out for Haran: DlpftH J^STI, 'he
came upon the place' (v. 11). The definite article in 'the place' is
remarkable because the definite article implies that the identity of the place
is known at the moment of telling, whereas it has not been mentioned
before. Only the following verses will identify the place. By using the verb
U3S to indicate a spatial movement, although it has the connotation of a
(personal) encounter, reference is made to this site as the place where
Jacob and God will meet, an encounter that has not yet taken place at the
moment of telling in 28.11. One might conclude that this clause in 28.11 a
is a kind of summary of what will happen later on, and this is indicated by
the definite article and by the use of the verb U33 with its connotation of
'encounter'. After this opening statement or caption at the beginning,
28.1 Ib continues with a twice-repeated reference to 'the place': 'He took
one of the stones of the place and laid it down in this place'. Later on, in
his reaction to YHWH'S discourse, Jacob says: 'Surely, YHWH is present in
this place, and I did not know', and 'How awesome is this place! This is
none other than the abode of God (DTI^N mi), this is the gateway to
heaven' (28.16-17). The narrator concludes: 'he called the name of this
place Bethel (^NTTD)' (28.19). The story ends with Jacob's promise to
build an altar in this place if he returns home safely.
However, when he did get home safely from Paddan-aram, he built an
altar in Shechem (33.20)! It is surprising indeed. And this is directly followed by the story of Dinah and Shechem in Genesis 34, with its discussion of mixed marriage and becoming one people. The analysis of the
indirect narrator's texts showed that the narrator defended the mono-ethnic
position of Jacob's sons and that he confirmed it by framing it in a socioreligious framework. This is now corroborated by the text in Genesis 35,
where Shechem turns out to be the opposite of Bethel. Bethel, the place
where Jacob met his God, represents the ideal of one place, one people and
one God. It is opposed to the other place, Shechem, with alien people and
alien gods, who have to be buried. The terminology is transparent: Jacob
446
buries the alien gods and they are thus tied to the name of Shechem.
Shechem does not only represent other people but also other gods. Consequently, the attack on the multiracial society is grounded in a monotheistic
view: they should be buried in the same grave, both the alien Shechemites
and the alien gods.
In short, the multiracial society defended by the Shechemites in the love
story of Dinah and Shechem and opposed by the Jacobites and by the narrator in Genesis 34 is buried forever in Genesis 35. Whereas Shechem
represents a multiracial society, Bethel represents a mono-ethnic and monotheistic society. Shechem is attacked by the Jacobites and the narrator as
strongly as Bethel and one God are defended by the narrator.
This conclusion is confirmed by a comparative study of God's words in
Gen. 28.13-14 and Gen. 35.11-12.
Genesis 28.13-14
Genesis 35.11-12
1. God
1. God
I am YHWH, the God of Abraham your father I am El Shaddai,
and the God of Isaac.
2. The land
The land
on which you lie,
to you I will give it and to your seed.
3. The land
The land
that I gave to Abraham and to Isaac,
to you I will give it,
and to your seed after you
I will give the land.
3. Your seed
2. Your seed
And your seed shall be like dust of the earth Be fruitful and multiply.
and you shall burst forth to the west
A nation, an assembly of nations
and the east and the north and the south,
shall stem from you,
and kings shall come forth from your
loins.
4. Other peopleblessing
And all the clans of the earth
shall be blessed through you,
and through your seed.
The transformation from Genesis 28 and Genesis 35 is brought about by

many features. Jacob has become more powerful in the meantime: from a
fugitive he has turned into a patriarch. From being powerless, he has
become powerful. His God has changed accordingly: from YHWH, the God
447
of Abraham and Isaac, he has transformed into El Shaddai, a name which

defines God's power. The seed described in Genesis 28 as spreading
throughout the earth is defined in Genesis 35 in national and powerful
terms: nations and kings stemming from your loins. The land described in
Genesis 28 as the place on which you lie is now defined as the land
previously given to Abraham and Isaac. Last but not least: the blessing of
other clans of the earth is missing in Genesis 35. Other clans are not blessed
any more through Jacob, nor through his seed. The Shechemites can testify
to that. The Dinah and Shechem story makes its contribution to this transformation. The context of peace and mutual understanding with the Canaanites is transformed in a mono-ethnic position embedded in a mono-religious
position. In the context of the Jacob cycle, the story of Dinah is one building block in the defence of this position.
A story that, on its own, might be read as a love story seen from the
perspective of Shechem and Dinah, or as a story of hatred seen from the
perspective of Jacob's sons, turns into a story about monotheism and
mono-ethnicity when read in the context of the Jacob cycle as presented in
Genesis. By placing Genesis 35 immediately after the story of Dinah and
Shechem, inclusive religion is replaced by exclusive religion. Genesis 34
turns out to be the hinge in this transformation. Blessing is restricted to
one's own people; the blessing of other people is not mentioned any more;
the land is exclusively given to the Jacobites. This changes the perspective
on God too: he is not referred to as the God of Abraham and Isaac any
more, but as El Shaddai, a God of power. The land is no longer called 'the
land in which you are staying', but 'the land given to the ancestors'. There
is no mention of a blessing of Jacob's family including the other families
of the world, but only of excluding the other families. The mono-ethnic
position is thus grounded on a monotheistic position. In many
commentaries, Genesis 34 is called an exceptional story in the Hebrew
Bible. In a way it is. In another way it is not.10 It magnifies tendencies that
are quite often submerged. It expresses the danger of monotheism when it
is closely related to mono-ethnicity.
10. Cf. Keel and Uehlinger (1998: 409): 'Part of the tragic history of the JudeoChristian history of guilt is the fact that the people who later became the victims of the
holocaust reported in a central passage in their own religious writings that a major
preoccupation of theirs was the elimination of other groups in order to ensure the
purity and sanctity of their own religious community (cf. Deut. 7.2-6, 16,24-26). Here
all are called to humility and to change their ways.'
448

Bibliography
Alter, R.
1996
Amit, Y.
2000
Genesis: Translation and Commentary (New York and London: Norton).

Hidden Polemics in Biblical Narrative (Biblical Interpretation Series, 25;
Leiden: EJ. Brill).
Bechtel, L.M.
1994
'What If Dinah Is Not Raped? (Genesis 34)', JSOT62: 19-36.
Bereishis-Genesis
1997
A New Translation with a Commentary Anthologized from Talmudic, Midrashic and Rabbinic Sources (ArtScroll Tanach Series; New York: Mesorah
Publishing).
Blum, E.
2001
'Genesis 33, 12-20: Die Wege trennen sich', in J.-D. Macchi and T. Romer
(eds.), Jacob: Commentaire dplusieurs voix de, Ein mehrstimmiger Kommentarzu, A Plural Commentary of Gen. 25-36. Melanges offeris a Albert
de Pury (Geneva: Labor et Fides): 227-38.
Brenner, A.
1997
The Intercourse of Knowledge: On Gendering Desire and 'Sexuality' in the
Hebrew Bible (Leiden: E.J. Brill).
Even-Shoshan, A.
1997
A New Concordance to the Old Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books).
Fewell, D.N., and D.M. Gunn
1991
' Tipping the Balance: Stemberg' s Reader and the Rape of Dinah', JBL 110:
193-211.
Freedman, D.N.
1990
'Dinah and Shechem: Tamar and Amnon', Austin Seminary Bulletin 105:
51-63.
Frymer-Kinsky, T.
1992
In the Wake of the Goddesses: Women, Culture, and Biblical Transformation
of Pagan Myth (New York: The Free Press).
Gesenius18
1987
H. Dormer, Wilhelm Gesenius Hebrdisches und aramdisches Handworterbuch uber das Alte Testament (Berlin: Springer Verlag, 18th edn, 1995).
Gruber, M.I.
1999
'A Re-examination of the Charges against Shechem Son of Hamor', Bet
Mikra\51: 119-27.
Keel, O., and C. Uehlinger
1998
Gods, Goddesses and Images of God in Ancient Israel (trans. T.H. Trapp;
Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark).
Noble, P.A.
1991
'Balanced Reading of the Rape of Dinah: Some Exegetical and Methodological Observations', Biblnt 4: 173-204.
Orlinsky, H.
1944
'The Hebrew Root 8KB', JBL 63: 19-44.

Sarna, N.
1989
Schmid, H.H.
1971
Scholz, S.
2000
Seebass, H.
1984
1992
Sternberg, M.
1985
van Wolde, E.J.
1995
2002
Wyatt, N.
1990
449
The JPS Torah Commentary: Genesis (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication

Society).
'np*r, THAT: I, 875-79.
Rape Plots: A Feminist Cultural Study of Genesis xxxiv (Studies in Biblical
Literature, 13; New York and Bern: Peter Lang).
Tip1?*, ThWAT: IV, 588-94.
TS]', ThWAT: V, 531-55.
The Poetics of Biblical Narrative (Bloomington: Indiana University Press),
'Who Guides Whom? Embeddedness and Perspective in Biblical Hebrew
and in 1 Kings 3:16-28', JBL 114: 623-42.
'Does 'innd Denote Rape? A Semantic Analysis of a Controversial Word',
VT 52: 528-44.
'The Story of Dinah and Shechem', UF 22: 433-58.
PSALM 87: A CASE FOR IDEOLOGICAL CRITICISM?

Erich Zenger
David J.A. Clines is probably right: the main problems for reading and
interpreting biblical texts are the ideologies of both the writers who brought
the text into being and the readers who are shaped by the text at the same
time as they are shaping it in their own image (cf. Clines 1995). It is therefore a primary task of biblical scholarship to uncover these ideologies and
to enable the reader to enter into a free and open discussion with the text,
even to the extent of protesting against the text and its ideology. This task
belongs to the project that Clines calls 'critique' and that must follow the
project which he calls 'understanding':
It is possible to believe that the scholarly study of the Bible has reached its
goal when it has attained an 'understanding' of the texts. Most biblical
scholars indeed regard it as the whole of their task to understand, exegete,
explain, and comment on their texts. There is, however, yet another distinct
project in which I think that we ought to be engaged as readers of the biblical texts: that of'critique' or evaluation. It is a measure of our commitment
to our own standards and values that we register disappointment, dismay or
disgust when we encounter in the texts of ancient Israel ideologies that we
judge to be inferior to ours. And it is a measure of our open-mindedness and
eagerness to learn and do better that we remark with pleasure, respect and
envy values and ideologies within the biblical texts that we judge to be superior to our own. 'Critique' does not of course imply negative evaluation, but
it does imply evaluation of the texts by a standard of reference outside themselveswhich usually means, for practical purposes, by the standards to
which we ourselves are committed (Clines 1995: 19-20).
Among the ten case studies collected in his book Interested Parties, two
essays deal with Zion ideology, which Clines uncovers in Psalms 2 and 24
(1995: 172-86,244-75): it is the ideology about holiness and war and about
God legitimating imperial despotism and scorning the right to self-determination. It seems that Zion theology per se needs ideological criticism,
ZENGER Psalm 87
451
since its central ideaGod fighting against the chaos in order to establish
or to protect the cosmosseems to produce violence and to authorize
suppression 'in the name of God'.
In this article I will briefly analyse another Zion Psalm and evaluate it
with regard to the project of ideological criticism. I will conclude this evaluation with some general remarks about the project of ideological criticism
itself. I hope that David Clines will enjoy this study, even though I am sure
that he will not agree with me in every detail.
II
Unless one is a political or religious Zionist, we are certainly, as modern

people, offended in reading by the general tendencies to be found in Psalm
87. It seems as if Zion is presented not just as the most important local
place in Israel (v. 2: Zion is loved by YHWH more than all the dwellings of
Jacob) but rather as the centre of the entire world. Is it not pure ideology
wherever and whenever Zion/Jerusalem is proclaimed as 'mother' of all
humankind, cultures and religions? Even if one is inclined to read the psalm
as a vision of the future, is it really permissible to hope for and desire this
single confession by all people, people who belong to different religious
confessions ('All my springs are in/from you [Zion]')? It should be made
clear at this point that the psalm does not address nations that voluntarily
accept YHWH, the God of Zion, as their God. Rather, this God declares
them Zionists, and it is he who enters their names in his citizenship register
without asking them. Does not Psalm 87 have to be read as a Jewish document that expresses an ideology of salvation in an absolutist manner? And
does it not remind us of a certain well-known Christian slogan, extra ecclesiam nulla salus, a slogan that likewise expresses an exclusivist mentality?
While allowing the nations to share in all the salvation which comes from
Zion, does this psalm not assert Zion's insufferable superiority? When we
call Zion 'the mother of all nations', is this not a metaphor that gives expression to an ideology that nowadays we should have to reject and even
vehemently oppose? It seems that Psalm 87 is indeed an urgent case for
ideological criticism.
Nevertheless, serious ideological criticism should not begin with the
associations that first occur to a modern person when reading or listening
to a particular text. The text, which has to be allowed to express itself on
its own terms, functions as the starting point. An outspoken Hermeneutik
des Verdachts (hermeneutic of suspicion) follows only as the second stage.
452
The first stepand here I am at one with C lines in his method outlined
aboveis the understanding of the text, to which I therefore turn in the
next section of this article.
Ill
Although the text of Psalm 87 seems to be very difficult, as indicated

already by the divergences among the ancient versions1 and the differences among modern commentators,2 it nevertheless appears possible for
the most part to preserve the traditionally transmitted Hebrew text. Once
we free ourselves from the postulates of genre criticism, which hold that
the psalm has to have a liturgical Sitz im Leben and be structured accordingly, an astonishingly artful structure emerges for the text and its images,
as the following diagram shows.3
Psalm 87
la OftheKorahites. A Psalm. A Song.
Ib Its foundation on holy mountains
2a
is loved by YHWH,
2b the gates of Zion
2c
more than all the dwellings of Jacob.
3 a Glorious things are said in/by you,
3b
city of God. [Selah]
4a 'I list Rahab and Babylon among those who know me,
4b
behold, Philistia also, and Tyre, along with Cush:
1. For a comparatively short psalm, the ancient Greek versions (Septuagint, Aquila,
Theodotion and Symmachus) already exhibit an unusual number of differences that
merit a separate discussion. The three most important are: (1) the versions use different
time frames in connection with the theme of the psalm (a statement about the present?
a vision of the future?); (2) the Septuagint (in which the psalm is Psalm 86) expressly
reads in v. 5: VT\T(]p Iicov, ipei avSpcoTtos, 'Mother Zion, a person (= one) will say',
from which many exegetes reconstruct a corresponding Hebrew text in which the title
'mother' is explicitly used: 'And to Zion one says, "Mother!"'. In the opinion of other
exegetes, with whom I agree, the reading in the Septuagint is either an 'interpretation'
of the text or else a later misreading of an original \IT\ rfj Iicov, epel; (3) in v. 7 the
Greek versions read 'dwelling' (KCXTOIKIOC) instead of'springs' (Hebrew text). A short
but good discussion is offered by Booij (1987); see also Schmuttermayr (1963).
2. See the compilation of positions by Booij (1987: 16n. 2) and the discussion of
the divergent interpretations by Zenger (Hossfeld and Zenger 2000: 551-55).
3. On this structure, see Ravasi (1986: 796-97); Booij (1987:22-25, divided, it is
true, 1-2, 3-5, 6-7); Smith (1988, divided 1-2, 3-7).
ZENGER Psalm 87
453
4c
this one was born there.'
5 a Yes, to Zion is said:
5b
'Every single one was born in/of it.
5c
Yes, he has equipped it, the Most High'.
6a YHWH counts them off,
6b
when he registers the nations:
6c
'This one was born there'. [Selah]
7a They sing and dance:
7b 'All my springs are in/from you1.
If one reads in accordance with the directions offered to the reader at its
start, this psalm wants to make a poetic presentation of YHWH's special
love for Zion.4 If that be the case, however, the controversial exegetical
question about the identity of the speaker of the birth proclamations, whose
direct speech is quoted in w. 4-6, has basically already been answered: it
is YHWH himself, as is also made unmistakably clear in v. 6. Verses 4-6
are thus shown to be the central section of the psalm. It is organized concentrically, as indicated by two structural features: (1) The order of the
three birth proclamations is organized according to an ABA pattern:
A
B
A
This one
Every single one
This one
was born there (v. 4)

was born in it (v. 5)
was born there (v. 6).
(2) With respect to this motif, vv. 4 and 6 form a frame (inclusio); in both
verses the image of YHWH who registers the nations stands in the
background.
Around this middle section there lie the two sections comprising w. Ib3b and 7. They are related to each other by the words 'in you' (w. 3a and
7b); by means of these words they are also interwoven with the centre of
the psalm in v. 5b. This division of Psalm 87 into the three parts that I have
sketched is also indicated and indeed confirmed by the verbal marker
'Selah' (H^D), which occurs at the end of w. 3 and 6.
It may further be considered whether, within the first section itself, w.
lb-2c are to be separated from a structural point of view from 3ab, given
that v. 3 addresses the city of God in the second person whereas w. lb-2
speak about Zion in the third person. If so, then vv. lb-2 present the theme
4. There is a debate in the commentaries over whether one should read v. Ib as an

independent noun clause ('Its foundation rests on holy mountains'); in that case, of
course, the pronominal suffix is initially indefinite. I prefer to understand Ib as a casus
pendens, so that the emphasis falls on the object standing first.
454
of the psalm, and this is then developed in the actual body of the psalm,
vv. 3-7.
The two outer sections (vv. 1-3 and 7) share the pictorial and conceptual
world typical of Zion theology. Zion is the city of God located on the 'holy
mountain'. This is both the cosmic mountain and the mountain of paradise,
where YHWH is enthroned and dwells as king of the world and as God of
all-encompassing shalom. It belongs constitutively to this conception that
the 'springs of life' gush forth in the midst of this city, or in the midst of the
palace/temple of the God who dwells within it.5
When v. 2b mentions 'the gates of Zion', several connotations may be
present. As demonstrated by ancient oriental iconography and many comparable texts, the gates are peculiar to a city, to whose features, in contrast
to a village, the city wall, with its gate or gates, specifically belongs (cf.
Uehlinger 1987). By metonymy 'the gates of Zion' may also, of course, call
the Temple precincts to mind. The ordering of justice and life as established and proclaimed by YHWH is also connected with 'the gates' of the
Temple.6
The two outer sections, then, sing about the significance of Zion as the
location and source of universal righteousness. On the basis of the surface
structure of the psalm alone it is hard to decide on the identity of the
speaker in the first section (w. lb-3). The speaker of the quote in v. 7b, on
the other hand, is 'the nations', who are also referred to in the middle
section, vv. 4-6.
The middle section (w. 4-6) is dominated by the image that YHWH confers citizenship in the city of God on the members of many nations by
entering them in the 'citizenship register'. Whether the concept of the heavenly book of life and fate, attested elsewhere in the ancient Near East,
stands in the background here (cf. Zenger 1972), or whether the registration of the members' names that occurs in connection with the institution
of the citizen-temple-community7 gave rise to the idea (as seems more
5. Cf. especially Ps. 46.5; Ezek. 47.1-12; Joel 4.18; Zech. 13.1; 14.8; but also
Gen. 2.10-14. Whether we have here an allusion to the early Jewish topos of Sinai/
Horeb as the 'fountainhead' of the Torah (cf. only Exod. 17.6) cannot be discussed further here.
6. On the Temple gates as 'gates of righteousness' and on 'conditions for entrance'/
'entrance liturgies', see, among others, Steingrimmsson (1984: 134-39) and Beyerlin
(1985: 90-97).
7. See on this Isa. 4.3 and Ezek. 13.9, but also Ezek. 32.32. The fundamental
studies on the citizen-temple-community are the numerous works by Joel P. Weinberg;
see especially Weinberg (1972, 1973, 1974).
ZENGER Psalm 87
455
likely to me) is of secondary importance. More important is the determination that, in a legally binding way (with rights and obligations), YHWH
here accords a personal connection with Zion to the two great traditional
enemy powers, Egypt (Rahab) and Babylon, as well as to the lands of
Philistia, Phoenicia and Cush.
The enumeration of the five names is not meant to be taken as exclusive.
Rather, the whole earth is in view, since Zion is proclaimed as its midpoint
('navel'). The names that are mentioned mark the four points of the compass: west (Egypt), east (Babylon), north (Philistia and Tyre) and south
(Cush). From this geographical/spatial perspective Zion is a place. On the
other hand, a thoroughly personal note is sounded in the middle of the
psalm, where Zion is viewed as woman and mother. This multivalence
of Zion as place and Zion as woman corresponds to the metamorphosis of
Zion from territory to person, or from the city as place to the city as woman,
in Isaiah.8 While Zion is depicted as the mother of the Israelites in Isa.
54.1-10 and 66.7-14, this metaphor is expanded here to Zion as the mother
of the nationsnot, of course, through 'natural' birth, but through YHWH'S
own determination and election. On the basis of the themes stated in w. 1 2 it is important to note that YHWH gives the nations to Zion as 'children'
because of his love for Zion.
IV
If one intends to understand some text or other correctly, it is certainly

important to grasp what that text says. It might be at least as helpful to
appreciate what it does not say by the extent to which it surprises the
reader or listener. We have nothing but the text of the psalm, and we cannot question its author regarding his picture of Zion, what he pointedly and
voluntarily left out, or what he intended to say in a different way, measured
by the yardstick of what his contemporaries would have expected of him.
To this end let us use a simple methodological trick. It should be possible
to compare the given psalm with other Psalms of Zion, to identify the
significant differences between themsuch as Leerstellen, those instances
where certain things are never named or describedand to evaluate them.
8. Cf. Steck (1992: 133-44); on Zion as a mother who bears, raises and cares for
children, see especially Isa. 49.22; 51.18; 54.1, as well as the entire textual context of
Isa. 60-61 and the book of Lamentations. In my opinion, the topos of Zion as mother
also lies in the background of Ps. 8.3 (cf. Hossfeld and Zenger 1993: 79).
456
In this connection, a comparison with Psalms 46,47 and 48 may be helpful. This is all the more so in that these three psalms have several motifs
and expressions in common with Psalm 87, as the following chart shows:
'on the holy mount'
'dwellings of Jacob'
'city of God'
'who know me'
'he has established'
'the Most High'
'my springs in you'
enp""nrQ
Hpir mDDlQD
DTl^n TJJ
""in11 *7
HDD1T Kim
jv'w
~p TUQ
v. 1: cf. 48.2
v. 2b: cf. 46.5
v. 3b: cf. 46.5; 48.2, 9
v. 4a: cf. 46.11
v. 5b: cf. 48.9
v. 5b: cf. 46.5; 47.3
v. 7b: cf. 46.5
What are the most significant differences between Psalms 46-48 and
87? What part of the pre-exilic canonical programme in regard to a theology of Zion is pointedly and deliberately left out in Psalm 87? Where do
we find new emphases? What is interpreted differently?
A basic motif of the 'theology of Zion' as attested by Psalms 46-489 is
God's royal residence on Mount Zion, from where he protects and shelters
the inhabitants of his city together with those who are living in its surroundings, the 'citizens' of his kingdom. He saves them and keeps them
safe in dangerous situations. Zion is a fount of life and happiness for its
inhabitants as it is for its (Israelite) visitors. As a living symbol Zion
stands for the paradisal garden of God. It is not only a centre from which
its power reaches to the ends of the inhabited earth; Zion also has a cosmological stabilizing function. Fundamentally this God is the one who
fights all varieties of chaos, not just historical chaos. As such, the God of
Zion fights against all 'foreign' kings and subjugates them to his reign. Even
more, he subjugates them to the Jerusalem king who is his representative.
In fact, foreign kings and nations become slaves to God's sovereignty. It is
only between Israel and its God that a special relationship exists. This special relationship becomes visible through Israel's presence in the audience
hall of the God of Zion, situated as it is in the temple compound. That is
where Israel honours God and offers sacrifice. It is also the place where
Israel listens to God's commands and lives them out.
This description may be considered as the basic pattern of Zion theology. Although several important elements of it are visible in Psalm 87
namely, Zion as the centre, Zion as fount of life and happiness, YHWH as
the 'king' who fights chaosnevertheless two elements of Zion theology
9. An excellent exposition of the Zionstheologie has now been provided by

Janowski 2002.
ZENGER Psalm 87
457
which are highly problematic in terms of ideological criticism are either

completely left out or at least are given a new interpretation. First, according to Psalm 87 the God of Zion does not act as a God of war but as a God
of creation. As the 'Most High' (v. 5) he communicates life; as king and
God he awards citizenship. Second, according to Psalm 87 the nations are
never subjugated to the king of Jerusalem, nor are they forced to serve
Israel in any way. They do not bring tribute or offerings to Mount Zion;
instead, it is there that they celebrate and feast (v. 7).
This brief comparison of Psalm 87 with Psalms 4648 makes clear that
ideological criticism must not treat a single biblical text in isolation; rather,
it must put that text into its context alongside other biblical texts that deal
with the same topic. As a first step these texts have to be correlated with
one another. The dialogue between these texts is the first stage of ideological criticism. Correlating these texts and establishing a dialogue between
them helps prevent the reader from unconsciously, rashly or unnecessarily
incorporating shifts and obscurities into the text that arise from the reader's
own ideology. It prevents the reader from allowing his or her own ideology
to come into play too early on, thereby forcing a personal ideology onto
the text. The text is thereby saved from being given meanings that it does
not have.
V
Before resort is made to the method of ideological criticism, a text should

be analysed in its textual context, exegeted within that context and evaluated
by that context. By intentionally putting a certain text within a particular
context, a biblical redactor might, in fact, have been giving clear guidance
to the reader to read the text from a specific ideological-critical point of
view. It is a methodological demand that is also valid for the exegesis of
the psalms. At least, that is my opinion (see especially Zenger 2000).
For a proper understanding of Psalm 87 it is indispensable to consider
this psalm within the context of the other Korahite psalms that precede and
follow it; that is to say, attention should be paid to the fact that it is an
element within a Korahite composition that comprises Psalms 84-85 and
87-88. As regards their compositional sequence, the Korah Psalms 84-85
and 87-88 are orientated towards the subgroup comprising Psalms 42-49.
This is a position which Eckart Otto, among others, has already advocated.
He writes:
458

Psalms 84,85,87,88 repeat this structure. Psalm 84 presupposes Psalm 4243...and actualizes it for the pilgrimage situation. With Psalm 85, which
corresponds to Psalm 44, there follows a thematically closely related community lament, while Psalm 87, a postexilic hymn of Zion, corresponds to
Psalms 46 and 48. Psalm 88 corresponds to the death motif in Psalm 49
(Otto 1989: 1015).
This thesis has recently been supported by Mattias Millard with the
following form-critical observations:
Both groups of Korah psalms are divided into singular and plural psalms.
The plural psalms form the core of the collections, while the singular
psalms occupy.. .the framing position. The basic form-critical pattern of the
plural psalms at the core of the two Korah psalm groups can be understood
by analogy with the lament as a transition from lament to praise... Especially with respect to the second Korah psalm collection it can...be presumed that from the start this is laid out in imitation of the first and is also
to be located originally in a wisdom/post-cultic context.10
Psalm 87 is the theological midpoint of the composition comprising 8485, 87-88. At the same time, it is closely tied up with the programme that
is broadly developed in the Korah Psalms 45^8 which are themselves the
midpoint of the composition comprising 4249.
The first two psalms of the subgroup, 84 and 85, form a compositional
or redactional unity. Psalm 84, which is interspersed with hymnic motifs
and is traditionally designated as a song of Zion, is a song of longing for
the God of Zion and for the blessing that flows from him. The juxtaposition of Psalm 85 leads to precisely this motif of God blessing the people
and the land from Zion being carried further and supplemented with an
entire collage of technical theological concepts. The lament, barely suggested in Psalm 84, is intensified in Psalm 85 into a lament over the wrath
of God.
Psalm 85.9-14 is a section that is shaped in the style of a prophetic oracle
that announces the comprehensive saving gift of peace for YHWH'S people.
On the one hand it presents this salvation as cosmic renewal (vv. 12-13)
and on the other hand it views it in terms of YHWH'S coming to Zion, as
the allusions to the book of Isaiah suggest. This is appropriately followed
10. Millard 1994: 78-79. If this position is correct, the thesis formulated by Wanke
(1966:3, and presupposed since by many without any hesitation) can no longer be maintained: 'We can...assume that Psalms 84, 85, 87, 88 were unknown to the "Elohistic"
redactor; though they originally belonged to the Korah collection, they were separated
from it at a later stage'.
ZENGER Psalm 87
459
by Psalm 87 which at the level of composition is to be read as God's

answer from Zion to the yearning lament of Psalms 84-85. This character
as response emerges first from the two outer sections of the psalm, in
which the city of God is lauded as the institution for which the God of
Zion has a special love (w. lb-3) and as the source of all life (v. 7). These
two outer sections are oriented towards Psalms 84-85 by several key words
(for 'dwellings of Jacob' in 87.2, see 84.2; 85.2; for 'glorious' in 87.3, see
84.12; 85.10; for 'all springs' in 87.7, see 84.7). In the middle section (vv.
4-6) God's answer is repeatedly given in direct speech in which Zion, the
city of God, assumes the form of the mother of the nations.
VI
After these insights into the meaning of Psalm 87, are we still to think that
the psalm is an urgent case for ideological criticism? With regard to my
own opinion, I should prefer to put it like this: Psalm 87 is an important
subject for ideological criticism as far as certain positions held by Jewish
and Christian readers are concerned.
Bibliography
Beyerlin, Walter
1985
Weisheitlich-kultische Heilsordnung: Studien zum 15. Psalm (Biblischtheologische Studien, 9; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag).
Booij, Thijs
1987
'Some Observations on Psalm Ixxxvii', FT 37: 16-25.
Clines, David J.A.
1995
Hossfeld, Frank-Lothar, and Erich Zenger
1993
Die Psalmen I: Psalm 1-50 (Die Neue Echter Bibel, 29; Wiirzburg: Echter).
2000
Psalmen 51-100 (Herders Theologischer Kommentar zum Alten Testament;
Freiburg: Herder [2000]).
Janowski, Bernd
2002
'Die heilige Wohnung des Hochsten: Kosmologische Implikationen der
Jerusalemer Tempeltheologie', in O. Keel and E. Zenger (eds.), Gottesstadt
und Gottesgarten: Zur Geschichte und Theologie des Jerusalemer Tempels
(Quaestiones disputatae, 191; Freiburg: Herder): 24-68.
Millard, Mattias
1994
Die Komposition des Psalters: Bin formgeschichtlicher Ansatz (FAT, 9;
Tubingen: Mohr).
Otto, Eckart
1989
'ITS, sijjon\ ThWAT: VI, 994-1028.
460
Ravasi, Gianfranco
1986
// libra dei Salmi: Commento e attualizazione (3 vols.; Bologna: Edizioni
Dehoniane).
Schmuttermayr, Georg
1963
'Urn Psalm 87 (86), 5', 5ZNF 7: 104-10.
Smith, Mark S.
1988
'The Structure of Psalm Ixxxvi', F7 38: 357-58.
Steck, Odil Hannes
1992
Gottesknecht und Zion: Gesammelte Aufsdtze zu Deuterojesaja (FAT, 4;
Tubingen: Mohr).
Steingrimmsson, Sigurdur O.
1984
Tor der Gerechtigkeit: Eine literaturwissenschaftliche Untersuchung der
sogenannten Einzugsliturgien im AT: Ps 15; 24.3-5 und Jes 33.14-16
(ATSAT, 22; St Ottilien: EOS).
Uehlinger, Christoph
1987
' "Zeichne eine Stadt.. .und belagere sie!" Bild und Wort in einer Zeichenhandlung Ezechiels gegen Jerusalem (Ez 4f)', in M. Kuchler and C. Uehlinger (eds.), Jerusalem: TexteBilderSteine. Zum 100. Geburtstag von
Hildi und Othmar Keel-Leu (NTOA, 6; Fribourg: Universitatsverlag; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht): 153-72.
Wanke, Gunther
1966
Die Zionstheologie der Korachiten in ihrem traditionsgeschichtlichen
Zusammenhang (BZAW, 97; Berlin: Topelmann).
Weinberg, Joel P.
1972
'Demographische Notizen zur Geschichte der nachexilischen Gemeinde in
Juda', Klio 54: 35-49.
1973
'Das Beit 'Abot im 6.-4. Jahrhundert v.u.Z.', VT23: 400-14.
1974
' Die Agrarverhaltnisse in der Biirger-Tempel-Gemeinde der Achamenidenzeit',AAH22: 473-86.
Zenger, Erich
1972
'Ps 87.6 und die Tafeln vom Sinai', in J. Schreiner (ed.), Wort, Lied und
Gottesspruch: Beitrdge zu Psalmen und Propheten. Festschrift fur Joseph
Ziegler, II (FzB, 2; Wiirzburg: Echter).
2000
'Psalmenforschung nach Hermann Gunkel und Sigmund Mowinckel', in
A. Lemaire and M. Saeb0 (eds.), Congress Volume, Oslo 1998 (VTSup, 80;
Leiden: EJ. Brill): 399-435.
BIBLIOGRAPHY OF DAVID J. A. CLINES

1959
'John and Ezekiel', Study (TEmmaus Bible School, Sydney) 1: 6-8.
1960
Translation (from Latin), Plautus, Rudens ('The Rope') (Sydney: Sydney University Classical
Society), 43pp.
1965
'Women in the [New Testament] Church: A Survey of Recent Opinion', Christian Brethren
Research Fellowship Journal 10: 33-40.
Translation (from Latin), John a Lasco, 'The Abolition of Vestments', in I. Murray (ed.), The
Reformation of the Church (London: Banner of Truth Trust): 63-69.
1967
'Psalm Research since 1955:1. The Psalms and the Cult', TynBul 18: 103-26; reprinted in On
the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998, II (JSOTSup, 293; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1998): 639-64.
'The Churches Next Door', Christian Brethren Research Fellowship Papers (October 1967):
4-14.
'The Christian and Class', Christian Graduate 20: 9-13.
'The Biblical Idea of the Trinity', Inter-Varsity 36: 4-7.
'Liturgy without Prayerbook', Christian Brethren Research Fellowship Journal no. 15: 6-18;
reprinted in Journal. Christian Brethren Research Fellowship (New Zealand) (October
1977): 11-22.
1968
'The Image of God in Man [in the Old Testament]', TynBul 19: 53-103; reprinted as 'Humanity
as the Image of God', in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 19681998, II (JSOTSup, 293; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): 447-97.
'Reply on Liturgy', Christian Brethren Research Fellowship Journal no. 18 (May 1968): 49-53.
'Do We Need Another Translation of the Bible?', Christian Graduate 21: 23-24.
1969
'Psalm Research since 1955: II. The Literary Genres', TynBul 20: 105-25; reprinted in On the
Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998, II (JSOTSup, 293; Sheffield:
Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): 665-86.
'The Language of the New Testament', in G.C.D. Howley, F.F. Bruce and H.L. Ellison (eds.),
A New Testament Commentary (London: Pickering & Inglis, 1969): 30-36; reprinted in
462
G.C.D. Howley (ed.), A Bible Commentary for Today (London and Glasgow: Pickering &
Inglis, 1979): 1076-82; a reworked version conforming to the New International Version
English text in F.F. Bruce (ed.), The International Bible Commentary (Basingstoke,
Hants.: Marshall Pickering, and Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1986): 1012-18.
'The Second Letter to the Corinthians' [a commentary], in G.C.D. Howley, F.F. Bruce and H.L.
Ellison (eds.), A New Testament Commentary (London: Pickering & Inglis, 1969): 41642; reprinted in G.C.D. Howley (ed.), A Bible Commentary for Today (London and Glasgow: Pickering & Inglis, 1979): 1462-88; a reworked version conforming to the New
International Version English text in F.F. Bruce (ed.), The International Bible Commentary (Basingstoke, Hants.: Marshall Pickering, and Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1986):
1389-1414.
'Predestination and Responsibility: A Biblical Perspective', Social Workers' Christian
Fellowship Occasional Papers (1969), 10 pp.
1970
'The New English Bible', Evangelical Quarterly 42: 168-75.
'The New English Bible: Old Testament', Theological Students' Fellowship Bulletin no. 58: 69.
1972
'X, X ben Y, ben Y: Personal Names in Hebrew Narrative Style', FT22: 266-87; reprinted in
On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998,1 (JSOTSup, 292;
Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): 240-62.
'Regnal Year Reckoning in the Last Years of the Kingdom of Judah', The Australian Journal
of Biblical Archaeology 2 (= Essays in Honour of E.C.B. MacLaurin on his Sixtieth
Birthday}: 9-34; reprinted in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays
1968-1998,1 (JSOTSup, 292; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): 395-425.
'A Biblical Doctrine of Man', Social Workers' Christian Fellowship Occasional Papers
(1972), 31 pp.; reprinted in Christian Brethren Research Fellowship Journal no. 28
(1978): 9-28.
1973
'The Theology of the Flood Narrative', Faith and Thought: Journal of the Transactions of the
Victoria Institute 100: 128-42; a revised and expanded version is reprinted in On the
'God in Human Form: A Theme in Biblical Theology', Christian Brethren Research
Fellowship Journal no. 24: 24-40.
'Predestination in Biblical Thought', Theological Students' Fellowship Bulletin no. 66: 1-5.
'The Apocrypha', in D.S. and P. Alexander (eds.), The Lion Handbook to the Bible (Berkhamstead: Lion, 1973): 461-63 (2nd revised edition, 1983); reprinted in The Lion Concise
Bible Handbook (Tring, Herts.: Lion, 1980): 251-54.
1974
'The Evidence for an Autumnal New Year in Pre-Exilic Israel Reconsidered', JBL 93: 22-40;
reprinted in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998, II
(JSOTSup, 293; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): 371-94.
463
'The Tree of Knowledge and the Law of Yahweh (Psalm xix)', FT 24: 8-14; reprinted in On
the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998,II (JSOTSup, 293;
'The Etymology of Hebrew Selem', Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages 3:19-25; reprinted
in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998, II (JSOTSup, 293;
'The Oracles of Malachi', The Witness 104: 93-96.
1975
'The Psalms and the King', Theological Students' Fellowship Bulletin no. 71: 1-6; reprinted in
On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998, II (JSOTSup, 293;
'Predestination in the Old Testament', in C.H. Pinnock (ed.), Grace Unlimited (Minneapolis:
Bethany, 1975): 110-26; reprinted in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament
Essays 1968-1998, II (JSOTSup, 293; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): 524-41.
'Notes for an Old Testament Hermeneutic', Theology News and Notes [Fuller Theological
Seminary] 21: 8-10.
'The Kingdom of God' [in the teaching of Jesus], The Witness 105: 43-45.
'The Psalm of a Man Who Listens (Psalm 19)', The Witness 105:245-47,25 preprinted in The
Indian Christian 67 (1976): 15-19.
1976
/, He, We, and They: A Literary Approach to Isaiah 53 (JSOTSup, 1; Sheffield: Department of
Biblical Studies; reprint edn, Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1983), 65 pp.
'Theme in Genesis 1-11', Catholic Biblical Quarterly 38: 483-507.
(with D.M. Gunn) 'Form, Occasion and Redaction in Jeremiah 20', ZA PF88: 390-409; reprinted
in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998,1 (JSOTSup, 292;
'Kit 111-114 (I iii 7-10): Gatherers of Wood and Drawers of Water', t/F8: 23-26; reprinted in
On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998, II (JSOTSup, 293;
'New Year', in Keith Crim et al. (ed.), The Interpreter's Dictionary of the Bible. Supplementary
Volume (Nashville: Abingdon, 1976): 625-29; reprinted in On the Way to the Postmodern:
Old Testament Essays 1968-1998,1 (JSOTSup, 292; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press,
1998): 426-35.
'Styles of Leadership in Ancient Israel', Evangelical Fellowship for Missionary Studies
Bulletin 6: 1-15.
'On Being the Servant of the Lord', The Harvester 55: 194-97.
'Social Responsibility in the Old Testament', Christian Brethren Research Fellowship (New
Zealand) no. 72 (Sept. 1976): 1-15; reprinted in Interchange 20 (1976): 194-207; published separately as Shaftesbury Project Papers, No. C.7 (1980).
'The Christian Use of the Old Testament: A Study in Attitude and Style', Journal of the Christian Brethren Research Fellowship (New Zealand) no. 71: 1-15.
'Sin and Maturity', Care and Counsel Symposium (June 1976): 15-32; a revision published in
Journal of Psychology and Theology 5 (1977): 183-96; reprinted in ThirdWay 4/10 (Nov.
1980): 8-10; 4/11 (Dec.-Jan. 1980-81): 11-14; reprinted in J.Roland Fleck and John D.
Carter (eds.), Psychology and Christianity: Integrative Readings (Nashville: Abingdon
Press, 1981): 124-3 9; reprinted in Onthe Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays
1968-1998, II (JSOTSup, 293; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): 555-73.
464
'New Directions in Pooh Studies', Theolog Review 12: 2-10; reprinted in On the Way to the
Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998, II (JSOTSup, 293; Sheffield: Sheffield
Academic Press, 1998): 830-39."
Translation (from Spanish) (with P.R. Davies), L. Alonso Schokel, 'A Response to Ridderbos
and Kessler', JSOT 1: 61-65.
1977
'Jonah: An Interpretation', Journal of the Christian Brethren Research Fellowship (New Zealand) no. 74: 1-10.
Translation (from German), H.H. Schmid, 'In Search of New Approaches in Pentateuchal
Research', JSOT3: 33-42.
Translation (from German), Rolf Rendtorff, 'Pentateuchal Studies on the Move', JSOT3:43-45.
Translation (from French), Pierre Auffret, The Literary Structure of Psalm 2 (JSOTSup, 2;
Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1977), 41 pp.
1978
The Theme of the Pentateuch (JSOTSup, 10; Sheffield: JSOT Press), 152 pp.
(with David M. Gunn) '"You tried to persuade me" and "Violence! Outrage!" in Jeremiah xx
7-8', VT 28: 20-27; reprinted in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays
1968-1998,1 (JSOTSup, 292; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): 285-92.
'Isaiah 52.13-53.12', in J.H. Eaton (ed.), Readings in Biblical Hebrew (University Semitics
Study Aids, 5; Birmingham: Department of Theology, University of Birmingham): 10512.
'Religion and Worship in the Bible', in P. Alexander (ed.), The Lion Encyclopedia of the Bible
(Berkhamsted: Lion): 130-51; reprinted separately as Religion and Worship in the Bible
(The Lion Encyclopedia of the Bible, Part 5) (Berkhamsted: Lion, 1980), 32 pp.; reprinted
in The Lion Concise Bible Encyclopedia (Tring, Herts.: Lion Publishing, 1980): 29, 5758, 82-83, 95-97, 122, 142-44, 155-57, 159, 192, 198-99, 199-202, 206-209, 214-15,
218,228-29,229-33,236,253.
'The Books of the Old Testament', in J.I. Packer, L.C. Allen, D.[J.A.] Clines, A.E. Cundall,
F.F. Bruce and D. Guthrie, Introduction to the Bible (London: Scripture Union): 17-27.
'Work: A Biblical and Theological Perspective', Shaftesbury Project Study Group on Work and
Unemployment. Occasional Paper (October 1978).
1979
'Hosea 2: Structure and Interpretation', in E.A. Livingstone (ed.), Studio Biblica 1978.1. Old
Testament and Related Themes. Sixth International Congress on Biblical Studies, Oxford,
3-7 April, 1978 (JSOTSup, 11; Sheffield: JSOT Press): 83-103; reprinted in On the Way
to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998,1 (JSOTSup, 292; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): 293-313.
'The Significance of the "Sons of God" Episode (Genesis 6:1-4) in the Context of the "Primeval History" (Genesis 1-11)', JSOT 13: 33-46; reprinted in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998,1 (JSOTSup, 292; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic
Press, 1998): 337-50.
'Introduction to the Pentateuch', in G.C.D. Howley (ed.), A Bible Commentary for Today
(London and Glasgow: Pickering & Inglis): 97-103; a reworked version conforming to
the New International Version English text in F.F. Bruce (ed.), The International Bible
Commentary (Basingstoke, Hants.: Marshall Pickering, and Grand Rapids: Zondervan,
1986): 78-83.
Bibliography of David J.A. Clines
465
'Job' [a commentary], in G.C.D. Howley (ed.), A Bible Commentary for Today (London and
Glasgow: Pickering & Inglis): 559-592; a reworked version conforming to the New
International Version English text in F.F. Bruce (ed.), The International Bible Commentary (Basingstoke, Hants.: Marshall Pickering, and Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1986):
520-51.
'Belshazzar', 'Cyrus', 'Darius', in G.W. Bromiley (ed.), The International Standard Bible
Encyclopedia, /(GrandRapids: Eerdmans): 455-56, 845-49, 867-68.
1980
'Story and Poem: The Old Testament as Literature and as Scripture', Interpretation 34: 11527; reprinted in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998,1
'Verb Modality and the Interpretation of Job iv 20-21', FT 30: 354-57; reprinted in On the
'Job 4.13: A Byronic Suggestion', ZAW92: 289-91; reprinted in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998, II (JSOTSup, 293; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic
Press, 1998): 745-47.
'Yahweh and the God of Christian Theology', Theology 83: 323-30; reprinted in On the Way
to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998, II (JSOTSup, 293; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): 498-507.
' Ahava', 'Ecbatana', 'Image', 'Magbish', 'Nehemiah, Book of, 'Tobiah', in J.D. Douglas et
al. (eds.), The Illustrated Bible Dictionary (Leicester: Inter-Varsity Press, 1980), I, 25,
407; II, 683-84, 930, 1070-74; III, 1574.
'Limited Paradise', Third Way 4/5 (May 1980), p. 21.
Translation (from French), H. Gazelles, 'The Canonical Approach to Torah and Prophets',
JSOT 16: 28-31.
1981
'Job 5,1-8: A New Exegesis', Bib 62: 185-94; reprinted in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old
Testament Essays 1968-1998, II (JSOTSup, 293; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press,
1998): 752-61.
'Nehemiah 10 as an Example of Early Jewish Biblical Exegesis', JSOT 21: 111-17; reprinted
'Hermeneutics', Journal. Christian Brethren Research Fellowship (New Zealand) no. 88:3-11.
1982
Art and Meaning: Rhetoric in Biblical Literature (ed. David J.A. Clines, David M. Gunn and
Alan J. Hauser; JSOTSup, 19; Sheffield: JSOT Press), 274 pp.
'The Arguments of Job's Three Friends', in David J.A. Clines, David M. Gunn and Alan J.
Hauser (eds.), Art and Meaning: Rhetoric in Biblical Literature (JSOTSup, 19; Sheffield:
JSOT Press): 199-214; reprinted in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays
'Methods in Old Testament Study', in J.W. Rogerson (ed.), Beginning Old Testament Study
(Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1982, and London: SPCK, 1983): 26-43.
'Biblical Hermeneutics in Theory and Practice', Christian Brethren Review nos. 30/31:65-77.
466
1983
Midian, Moab andEdom: The History and Archaeology of Late Bronze andiron Age Jordan
and North-West Arabia (ed. John F.A. Sawyer and David J.A. Clines; JSOTSup, 24;
Sheffield: JSOT Press), 172 pp.
'In Search of the Indian Job', FT33: 398-418; reprinted in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old
Testament Essays 1968-1998, II (JSOTSup, 293; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press,
1998): 770-91.
Translation (from French) (with J.L Michaud and M. Bert), Pierre Auffret, 'The Literary Structure of Exodus 6.2-8', JSOT 27: 46-54.
1984
Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther (New Century Bible; London: Marshall, Morgan & Scott, and Grand
Rapids: Eerdmans), 384 pp.; reprint, Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press.
The Esther Scroll: The Story of the Story (JSOTSup, 30; Sheffield: JSOT Press), 260 pp.
1985
'False Naivety in the Prologue to Job', Hebrew Annual Review 9: 127-36 (= Reuben Ahroni
[ed.], Biblical and Other Studies in Memory ofShelmo Dov Goitein); reprinted in On the
1986
'Biblical Thoughts on the Religious Professional', Christian Brethren Review 37: 57-64.
1987
'The Parallelism of Greater Precision. Notes from Isaiah 40 for a Theory of Hebrew Poetry', in
Elaine R. Follis (ed.), New Directions in Hebrew Poetry (JSOTSup, 40; Sheffield: JSOT
Press): 77-100; reprinted in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968
1998,1 (JSOTSup, 292; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): 314-36.
Paragraphs on Abraham and Job in Brian Redhead and Frances Gumley, The Good Book: An
Introduction to the Bible (London: Duckworth): 31, 33, 116-18.
1988
'Belief, Desire and Wish in Job 19:23-27. Clues for the Identity of Job's "Redeemer"', in M.
Augustin and K.-D. Schunk (eds.), Wiinschet Jerusalem Frieden. Collected Communications to the XHth Congress of the International Organization for the Study of the Old
Testament, Jerusalem 1986 (Beitrage zur Erforschung des Alten Testaments und des
antiken Judentums, 13; Frankfurt: Peter Lang): 363-70; reprinted in On the Way to the
Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998, II (JSOTSup, 293; Sheffield: Sheffield
Academic Press, 1998): 762-69.
'Introduction to the Biblical Story: Genesis-Esther', in James L. Mays (ed.), Harper's Bible
Commentary (San Francisco: Harper & Row): 74-84; a revised and expanded version
was published in What Does Eve Do to Help? and Other Readerly Questions to the Old
Testament (JSOTSup, 94; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1990): 85-105.
'Esther', in James L. Mays (ed.), Harper's Bible Commentary (San Francisco: Harper & Row):
387-94.
'The Additions to Esther', in James L. Mays (ed.), Harper's Bible Commentary (San Francisco: Harper & Row): 815-19.
Bibliography of David J.A. dines
467
'Ruth', 'Lamentations', Guidelines 4/1 (January-April 1988): 3-5, 42-47.

'The Message of Proverbs', 'The Message of Ecclesiastes', in Robin Keeley (ed.), The Message of the Bible (Tring, Herts.: Lion): 86-90.
1989
Job 1-20 (Word Biblical Commentary, 17; Waco, TX: Word Books), cviii + 501 pp.
'The Force of the Text: A Response to Tamara C. Eskenazi's "Ezra-Nehemiah: From Text to
Actuality"', in J. Cheryl Exum (ed.), Signs and Wonders: Biblical Texts in Literary Focus
(Semeia Studies; Atlanta: Scholars Press): 199-215; reprinted in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998,1 (JSOTSup, 292; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): 351-67.
'The Wisdom Books', in Stephen Bigger (ed.), Creating the Old Testament: The Emergence of
the Hebrew Bible (Oxford: Basil Blackwell): 269-91.
' Job', in Bernhard W. Anderson (ed.), The Books of the Bible. I. The Old Testament/The Hebrew
Bible (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons): 181-201.
'Lamentations: Proposal for the Handling of Grief, Harvester 68/3: 6-7; 68/4: 6-7.
'Job. I. Acceptance and Denial', Harvester 68/6: 6-7.
'Job. II. Beyond all Proportion', Harvester 68/7: 6-7.
'Job. III. Suffering is a Hippopotamus', Harvester 68/8: 6-7.
'Job. IV. Happily Ever After?', Harvester 68/9: 6-7.
Translation (from French), Pierre Auffret, 'Note on the Literary Structure of Psalm 134', JSOT
45: 87-89.
1990
What Does Eve Do to Help? and Other Readerly Questions to the Old Testament (JSOTSup,
94; Sheffield: JSOT Press), 178 pp.
The Bible in Three Dimensions: Essays in Celebration of Forty Years of Biblical Studies in the
University of Sheffield (ed. David J.A. Clines, Stephen E. Fowl and Stanley E. Porter;
JSOTSup, 87; Sheffield: JSOT Press), 408 pp.
'Deconstructing the Book of Job', in Martin Warner (ed.), The Bible as Rhetoric: Studies in
Biblical Persuasion and Credibility (Warwick Studies in Philosophy and Literature;
London: Routledge): 65-80; reprinted in What Does Eve Do to Help? and Other Readerly
Questions to the Old Testament (JSOTSup, 94; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1990): 106-23.
'Reading Esther from Left to Right: Contemporary Strategies for Reading a Biblical Text', in
David J.A. Clines, Stephen E. Fowl and Stanley E. Porter (eds.), The Bible in Three
Dimensions: Essays in Celebration of Forty Years of Biblical Studies in the University of
Sheffield (JSOTSup,87; Sheffield: JSOT Press): 31-52; reprinted in On the Way to the
Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998,1 (JSOTSup, 292; Sheffield: Sheffield
'The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew', Zeitschrift fur Althebraistik 3: 73-80; reprinted in On
the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998, II (JSOTSup, 293;
'Holistic Interpretation', in R.J. Coggins and J.L. Houlden (eds.), A Dictionary of Biblical Interpretation (London: SCM Press, and Philadelphia: Trinity Press International): 292-95.
1991
Telling Queen Michal 's Story: An Experiment in Comparative Interpretation (ed. David J.A.
Clines and Tamara C. Eskenazi; JSOTSup, 119; Sheffield: JSOT Press), 301 pp.
468
'Michal Observed: An Introduction to Reading her Story', in David J.A. Clines and Tamara C.
Eskenazi (eds.), Telling Queen Michal's Story: An Experiment in Comparative Interpretation (JSOTSup, 119; Sheffield: JSOT Press): 24-63.
'X, X ben Y, ben Y: Personal Names in Hebrew Narrative Style', in David J.A. Clines and
Tamara C. Eskenazi (eds.), Telling Queen Michal's Story: An Experiment in Comparative
Interpretation (JSOTSup, 119; Sheffield: JSOT Press): 124-28 (an excerpt reprinted from
1972 article).
'The Story of Michal, Wife of David, in its Sequential Unfolding', in David J.A. Clines and
Tamara C. Eskenazi (eds.), Telling Queen Michal's Story: An Experiment in Comparative
Interpretation (JSOTSup, 119; Sheffield: JSOT Press): 129-40.
'In Quest of the Historical Mordecai', FT 41: 129-36; reprinted in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998, I (JSOTSup, 292; Sheffield: Sheffield
'Frederick Fyvie Bruce 1910-1990. In Memoriam', Journal. Christian Brethren Research
Fellowship no. 123 (August 1991): 53-54.
'Lamentations', Guidelines 8/1 (January-April 1992): 90-96 (reprint of 1988 article).
1992
'Was There an 'bl II "be dry" in Classical Hebrew?', VT42: 1-10; reprinted in On the Way to
the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998, II (JSOTSup, 293; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): 585-94.
'The Shape and Argument of the Book of Job', in Sitting with Job: Selected Studies on the Book
of Job (ed. Roy B. Zuck; Grand Rapids: Baker Book House): 125-40; reprinted from Job
1-20 (Word Biblical Commentary, 17; Waco, TX: Word Books, 1989): xxxiv-xlvii.
'A Brief Explanation of Job 1-3', in Roy B. Zuck (ed.), Sitting with Job: Selected Studies on
the Book of Job (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House): 249-52; reprinted from Job 1-20:
65-66.
'A Brief Explanation of Job 12-14', in Roy B. Zuck (ed.), Sitting with Job: Selected Studies on
the Book of Job (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House): 261 -64; reprinted from Job 1-20:
337-39.
'The Arguments of Job's Three Friends', in Roy B. Zuck (ed.), Sitting with Job: Selected
Studies on the Book of Job (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House): 265-78; reprinted from
Art and Meaning: Rhetoric in Biblical Literature (ed. David J.A. Clines, David M. Gunn
and Alan J. Hauser; JSOTSup, 19; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1982): 199-214.
'Mordecai', in David Noel Freedman (ed.), The Anchor Bible Dictionary (New York: Doubleday): IV, 902-904.
'The New Dictionary of Classical Hebrew', in Klaus-Dietrich Schunk and Matthias Augustin
(eds.), Goldene Apfel in silbernen Schalen. Collected Communications to the XIHth
Congress of the International Organization for the Study of the Old Testament, Leuven
1989 (Beitrage zur Erforschung des Alten Testaments und des antiken Judentums, 20;
Frankfurt: Peter Lang): 169-79.
'God in the Pentateuch', in Robert L. Hubbard, Jr, Robert K. Johnston and Robert P. Meye
(eds.), Studies in Old Testament Theology: Historical and Contemporary Images of God
and God's People (Festschrift for David L. Hubbard; Dallas: Word Books): 79-98; a
revised version was published as 'God in the Pentateuch: Reading against the Grain', in
Interested Parties: The Ideology of Writers and Readers of the Hebrew Bible (JSOTSup,
205; GCT, 1; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995): 186-211.
469
'Story and Poem: The Old Testament as Literature and as Scripture', in Paul R. House (ed.),
Beyond Form Criticism: Essays in Old Testament Literary Criticism (WinonaLake, IN:
Eisenbrauns, 1992): 25-38; reprinted from Interpretation 34 (1980): 115-27.
1993
Among the Prophets: Imagery, Language and Structure in the Prophetic Writings (ed. Philip
R. Davies and David J.A. Clines; JSOTSup, 144; Sheffield: JSOT Press), 212 pp.
Of Prophets' Visions and the Wisdom of Sages: Essays in Honour ofR. Norman Whybray on
his Seventieth Birthday (ed. Heather A. McKay and David J.A. Clines; JSOTSup, 162;
Sheffield: JSOT Press), 335 pp.
The New Literary Criticism and the Hebrew Bible (ed. J. Cheryl Exum and David J! A. Clines;
JSOTSup, 143; Sheffield: JSOT Press), 276 pp.
The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. I. Aleph (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press), 475 pp.
'Preface', The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. 1. Aleph: 7-13.
'Introduction', The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. I. Aleph: 14-29.
'The Sources', The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. I. Aleph: 30-66.
' Words Beginning with Aleph in Order of Frequency', The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. I.
Aleph: 67-88.
'Abbreviations and Signs', The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. I. Aleph: 89-90.
'Metacommentating Amos', in Heather A. McKay and David J.A. Clines (eds.), Of Prophets'
Visions and the Wisdom of Sages: Essays in Honour ofR. Norman Whybray on his Seventieth Birthday (JSOTSup, 162; Sheffield: JSOT Press): 142-60; reprinted in Interested
Parties: The Ideology of Writers and Readers of the Hebrew Bible (JSOTSup, 205; GCT,
1; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995): 76-93.
(with J. Cheryl Exum) 'What Is the New Literary Criticism?', in J. Cheryl Exum and David
J.A. Clines (eds.), The New Literary Criticism and the Hebrew Bible (JSOTSup, 143;
Sheffield: JSOT Press): 11-25.
'A World Founded on Water (Psalm 24): Reader Response, Deconstruction and Bespoke Interpretation', in J. Cheryl Exum and David J.A. Clines (eds.), The New Literary Criticism
and the Hebrew Bible (JSOTSup, 143; Sheffield: JSOT Press): 79-90; a revised version
was published in Interested Parties: The Ideology of Writers and Readers of the Hebrew
Bible (JSOTSup, 205; GCT, 1; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995): 172-86.
'Ezra-Nehemiah', in Wayne A. Meeks et al. (eds.), The HarperCollins Study Bible: New
Revised Standard Version with the Apocryphal/Deuterocanonical Books (London:
HarperCollins): 699-735.
'1 Esdras', in Wayne A. Meeks et al. (eds.), The HarperCollins Study Bible: New Revised
Standard Version with the Apocryphal/Deuterocanonical Books (London: HarperCollins):
1723-45.
'Possibilities and Priorities of Biblical Interpretation in an International Perspective', Biblnt 1:
67-87; reprinted in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998,1
'Haggai's Temple, Constructed, Deconstructed and Reconstructed', in Tamara C. Eskenazi
and Kent H. Richards (eds.), Second Temple Studies (JSOTSup, 175; Sheffield: JSOT
Press): 51-78.
'Haggai's Temple, Constructed, Deconstructed and Reconstructed', Scandinavian Journal of
the Old Testament 1: 19-30; a revised version was published in Interested Parties: The
Ideology of Writers and Readers of the Hebrew Bible (JSOTSup, 205; GCT, 1; Sheffield:
470
'Pentateuch', in Bruce M. Metzger and Michael D. Coogan (eds.), The Oxford Companion to
the Bible (New York: Oxford University Press): 579-82.
'Job', in Bruce M. Metzger and Michael D. Coogan (eds.), The Oxford Companion to the Bible
(New York: Oxford University Press): 368-70.
'Image of God', in Gerald F. Hawthorne and Ralph P. Martin (eds.), Dictionary of Paul and
his Letters (Downers Grove, IL and Leicester: InterVarsity Press): 426-28.
'Sacred Space, Holy Places and Suchlike', in Trinity Occasional Papers: Essays Presented in
Honour of Revd Professors Han Spykeboer and Bruce Upham 12/2 (November 1993):
19-30; reprinted in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998, II
1994
'Job', in D.A. Carson, R.T. France, J.A. Motyer and G.J. Wenham (eds.), New Bible Commentary Revised (Leicester: Inter-Varsity Press; Downers Grove, IL: Intervarsity Press,
21st Century Edition): 459-84.
'Why Is There a Song of Songs, and What Does It Do to You If You Read It?', Man Dao: A
Journal of Bible and Theology 1: 3-27; a revised version was published in Interested
Parties: The Ideology of Writers and Readers of the Hebrew Bible (JSOTSup, 205; GCT,
1; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press): 94-121.
'Why Is There a Book of Job, and What Does It Do to You If You Read It?', in W.A.M.
Beuken (ed.), The Book of Job (Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium,
114; Leuven: Leuven University Press and Peeters, 1994): 1-20; a revised version was
published in Interested Parties: The Ideology of Writers and Readers of the Hebrew Bible
(JSOTSup, 205; GCT, 1; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995): 122-44.
'The Message of Proverbs', in Robin Keeley and George Carey (eds.), The Bible for Everyday
Life (Oxford: Lion Publishing): 102-104 [= Robin Keeley (ed.), The Message of the
Bible (Tring, Herts.: Lion, 1988): 86-88].
'The Message of Ecclesiastes', in Robin Keeley and George Carey (eds.), The Bible for
Everyday Life (Oxford: Lion Publishing): 105-106 [= Robin Keeley (ed.), The Message
of the Bible (Tring, Herts.: Lion, 1988): 89-90].
'Theme in Genesis 1-11', in Richard S. Hess and David Toshio Tsumura (eds.), 'I Studied
Inscriptions before the Flood' Ancient Near Eastern, Literary, and Linguistic Approaches
to Genesis 1-11 (Sources for Biblical and Theological Study, 4; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1994): 285-309 (reprinted from Catholic Biblical Quarterly38 [1976]: 483-507).
1995
Interested Parties: The Ideology of Writers and Readers of the Hebrew Bible (JSOTSup, 205;
GCT, 1; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press), 296 pp.
The Bible in Human Society: Essays in Honour of John Rogerson (ed. R. Daniel Carroll R.,
David J.A. Clines and Philip R. Davies; JSOTSup, 200; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic
Press), 479 pp.
The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. II. Beth-Waw (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press),
660 pp.
'Preface', The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. \\.Beth-Waw: 7-8.
'Introduction', The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. II. Beth-Waw. 9-14.
'Words Beginning with Beth, Gimel, Daleth, He and Waw in Order of Frequency', The
Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. II. Beth-Waw: 36-78.
'Bibliography', The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. II. Beth-Waw: 600-41.
Bibliography of David J.A. Clines
471
'Job and the Spirituality of the Reformers', in W.P. Stephens (ed.), TheBible, the Reformation
and the Church: Essays in Honour of James Atkinson (JSNTSup, 105; Sheffield: Sheffield
Academic Press, 1995): 49-72; reprinted in Interested Parties: The Ideology of Writers
and Readers of the Hebrew Bible (1995): 145-71.
'Deconstructing the Book of Job', Bible Review ll/2(April 1995): 30-35,43-44 (an abbreviation of the 1990 article).
'The Ten Commandments, Reading from Left to Right', in Jon Davies, Graham Harvey and
Wilfred G.E. Watson (eds.), Words Remembered, Texts Renewed: Essays in Honour of
JohnF.A. Sawyer (JSOTSup, 195; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995): 97-112; a
revised version was published in Interested Parties: The Ideology of Writers and Readers
of the Hebrew Bible (JSOTSup, 205; GCT, 1; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press,
1995): 26-45.
'Beyond Synchronic/Diachronic', in Johannes C. de Moor (ed.), Synchronic or Diachronic? A
Debate on Method in Old Testament Exegesis (OTS, 34; Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1995): 5271; reprinted in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998,1
'Psalm 2 and the MLF (Moabite Liberation Front)', in M. Daniel Carroll R., David J.A. Clines
and Philip R. Davies (eds.), The Bible in Human Society: Essays in Honour of John Rogerson (JSOTSup, 200; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995): 158-85; a revised version
was published in Interested Parties: The Ideology of Writers and Readers of the Hebrew
Bible (JSOTSup, 205; GCT, 1; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995): 244-75.
'Ethics as Deconstruction, and, The Ethics of Deconstruction', in John W. Rogerson, Margaret
Davies and M. Daniel Carroll R. (eds.), The Bible in Ethics: The Second Sheffield Colloquium (JSOTSup, 207; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995): 77-106; reprinted in
On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998,1 (JSOTSup, 292;
'[Reply to F.I. Andersen]', Australian Biblical Review 43: 72-74 (Andersen's review of The
Dictionary of Classical Hebrew, I, in pp. 51-71; Andersen's rejoinder: 74-75).
'Language as Event', in Robert P. Gordon (ed.), 'The place is too small for us.' The Israelite
Prophets in Recent Scholarship (Sources for Biblical and Theological Study, 5; Winona
Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1995): 166-75 (reprint of/, He, We, and They [1976]: 53-56).
'The Book of Psalms, Where Men Are Men: On the Gender of Hebrew Piety', 7 pp.*
1996
The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. III. Zayin-Teth (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press),
424 pp.
'Preface', The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. III. Zayin-Teth: 7-8.
'Introduction', The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. III. Zayin-Teth: 9-10.
'Words Beginning with Zayin, Heth and Teth in Order of Frequency', The Dictionary of
Classical Hebrew. III. Zayin-Teth: 33-66.
'The God of the Pentateuch' (shortened version of The Peake Memorial Lecture, June 1994),
Epworth Review 23/1: 55-64.
'Varieties of Indeterminacy', in Robert C. Culley and Robert B. Robinson (eds.), Textual
Indeterminacy, Part Two = Semeia 63 (1995): 17-27 [published 1996]; reprinted in On
the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998,1 (JSOTSup, 292; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): 126-37.
Review of Ludwig Koehler, Walter Baumgartner and Johann Jakob Stamm, The Hebrew and
Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament. I. Aleph-Heth (ed. and trans. M.E.J. Richardson), Journal of Semitic Studies 41: 137-42.
472
'Loin-girding and Other Male Activities in the Book of Job', 12 pp.*

'Confessions of an Autodidact: Response to Carol Newsom's Review of Exum and Clines, The
New Literary Criticism and the Hebrew Bible', 3 pp.*
'Books on the Net: A Publisher's View', 4 pp.*
'Does Hebrew 'adam Mean "Humanity"? A Response to James Barr, "Words and Meanings,
This Century and Next'", 6 pp.*
'Gender and Hermeneutics: A Response to Hanna Stenstrom, "Revelation 14:1-5 and the
Necessity and Limitations of Feminist Interpretation of the Bible'", 8 pp.*
1997
The Poetical Books: A Sheffield Reader (ed. David J.A. Clines; The Biblical Seminar, 41; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press), 370 pp.
The Theme of the Pentateuch (JSOTSup, 10; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2nd edn),
176pp.
The Sheffield Manual for Authors and Editors in Biblical Studies (Manuals, 12; Sheffield:
Sheffield Academic Press), 200 pp.
The Bible and the Modern World (The Biblical Seminar, 59; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic
Press), 116 pp.
Selections from/, He, We, They: A Literary Approach to Isaiah 53 [see 1976], in Stephen E.
Fowl (ed.), The Theological Interpretation of Scripture: Classic and Contemporary Readings (Blackwell Readings in Modern Theology; Cambridge, MA: Blackwell, 1996;
Oxford: Blackwell, 1997): 210-18.
'Publishers: Who Needs Them?', 9 pp.*
'Dancing and Shining at Sinai: Playing the Man in Exodus 32-34', 10 pp.*
1998
The World of Genesis: Persons, Places, Perspectives (ed. Philip R. Davies and David J.A.
Clines; JSOTSup, 257; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press), 179 pp.
Auguries: The Jubilee Volume oj'the Sheffield Department of 'Biblical Studies (ed. David J.A.
Clines and Stephen D. Moore; JSOTSup, 269; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press),
332 pp.
On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998 (2 vols.; JSOTSup, 292293; Sheffield: JSOT Press), xx, xiv, 897 pp.
The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. IV. Yodh-Lamedh (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press,
1998), 642 pp.
'Preface', The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. IV. Yodh-Lamedh: 7-9.
'Introduction', The Dictionary of 'Classical Hebrew. IV. Yodh-Lamedh: 10-13.
'Words Beginning with Yodh, Kaph and Lamedh in Order of Frequency', The Dictionary of
Classical Hebrew. IV. Yodh-Lamedh: 30-66.
'Methods in Old Testament Study', in J.W. Rogerson (ed.), Beginning Old Testament Study
(London: SPCK, new, revised edition, 1998): 25-48; revision of 1982 chapter; reprinted
'The Sheffield Department of Biblical Studies: An Intellectual Biography', in David J.A.
Clines and Stephen D. Moore (eds.), Auguries: The Jubilee Volume of the Sheffield
Department of Biblical Studies (JSOTSup, 269; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press,
1998): 14-89.
'The Postmodern Adventure in Biblical Studies', in David J.A. Clines and Stephen D. Moore
(eds.), Auguries: The Jubilee Volume of the Sheffield Department of Biblical Studies
473
(JSOTSup, 269; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): 276-91; a revised and
expanded version is reprinted as 'The Pyramid and the Net: The Postmodern Adventure
in Biblical Studies', in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 19681998,1 (JSOTSup, 292; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): 138-57.
'Research, Teaching and Learning in Sheffield: The Material Conditions of their Production',
in David J. A. Clines and Stephen D. Moore (eds.), Auguries: The Jubilee Volume of the
Sheffield Department of Biblical Studies (JSOTSup, 269; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic
Press, 1998): 294-302.
'The Postmodern Adventure in Biblical Studies', Australasian Pentecostal Studies 1 (March
1998): 41-54.
'The Postmodern Adventure in Biblical Studies', in Joze Krasovec (ed.), Interpretation of the
Bible. International Symposium on the Interpretation of the Bible on the Occasion of the
Publication of the New Slovenian Translation of the Bible (Ljubljana: The Slovenian
Academy of Sciences and Arts, 1998; JSOTSup, 289; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic
Press, 1999): 1603-18.
'"Ecce Vir", or, Gendering the Son of Man', in J. Cheryl Exum and Stephen D. Moore (eds.),
Biblical Studies/Cultural Studies: The Third Sheffield Colloquium (JSOTSup, 266; Gender,
Culture, Theory, 7; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): 352-75.
'Quarter Days Gone: Job 24 and the Absence of God', in Tod Linafelt and Timothy Beal (eds.),
God in the Fray: A Tribute to Walter Brueggemann (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress,
1998); reprinted in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays 1968-1998, II
'Making Waves Gently: The Contribution of Norman Whybray to British Old Testament
Study', 17pp.*
'Paul, the Invisible Man; or, The Full Apostolic Monty', 11 pp.*
'The Pyramid and the Net: The Postmodern Adventure in Biblical Studies', in On the Way to
the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays, 1967-1998,1 (JSOTSup, 292; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): 138-57.
'From Salamanca to Cracow: What Has (And Has Not) Happened at SBL International Meetings', in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays, 1967-1998,1 (JSOTSup,
292; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): 158-93.
'From Copenhagen to Oslo: What Has (And Has Not) Happened at Congresses of the IOSOT',
in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays, 1967-1998,1 (JSOTSup, 292;
'Philology and Power', in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays, 1967-1998,
II (JSOTSup, 293; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): 613-30.
'Squares and Streets: The Distinction of DIPR "Square" and mum "Streets"', in On the Way
to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays, 1967-1998, II (JSOTSup, 293; Sheffield:
'Universal Dominion in Psalm 2?', in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays,
'Those Golden Days: Job and the Perils of Nostalgia', in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old
Testament Essays, 1967-1998, II (JSOTSup, 293; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press,
1998): 792-800.
'The History of Bo Peep: An Agricultural Employee's Tragedy in Contemporary Literary
Perspective', in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays, 1967-1998, II
474
'New Directions in Pooh Studies: Uberlieferungs- und religionsgeschichtliche Studien zum

Pu-Buch', in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays, 1967-1998, II
1999
'The Future of Biblical Studies', Religious Studies News (November 1999).
'Introduction to the Biblical Story: Genesis-Esther', in James L. Mays (ed.), Harper's Bible
Commentary (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1988; 2nd edition, 1999): 74-84; a revised
and expanded version was publ ished in What Does Eve Do to Help ? and Other Readerly
Questions to the Old Testament (JSOTSup, 94; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1990): 85-105.
'Esther', in James L. Mays (ed.), Harper's Bible Commentary (San Francisco: Harper & Row,
1988; 2nd edition, 1999): 387-94.
'The Additions to Esther', in James L. Mays (ed.), Harper's Bible Commentary (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1988; 2nd edition, 1999): 815-19.
2000
'Job's Fifth Friend: An Ethical Critique of the Book of Job', 14 pp.*
'He-Prophets: Masculinity as a Problem for the Hebrew Prophets and their Interpreters', 23
pp.*
'D1H, the Hebrew for "Human, Humanity": A Response to James Barr', 11 pp.*
'Esther and the Future of the Commentary', 13 pp.*
'Esther: A PolyCommentary Sample' (website).*
'Notes on the Preliminary Edition of the Biblia Hebraica Quinta (Fasciculus extra seriem:
Librum Ruth praeparavit Jan de Waard [Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 1998])', 4
pp.*
'Lamentations', 29 pp.*
'Before We All Get Too Excited about Electronic Publishing ...', 10 pp.*
'The Disjoined Body: The Body and the Self in Hebrew Rhetoric', 10 pp.*
'Job: A Workshop', 5 pp.*
'Masculinity's Debt to Feminist Biblical Criticism' (PowerPoint presentation).*
'Psalms, The: A Module in Biblical Studies' (website).*
'Reading the Song of Songs as a Classic', 14 pp.*
'Teaching and Learning the Psalms, Inductively, or, Keeping Gunkel and Friends out of the
Classroom', 9 pp.*
'The Prophetic Assessment Exercise (PAE)', 4 pp.*
'Of Viking and Parking', 2 pp.*
2001
The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. V. Mem-Nun (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press),
937pp.
'Preface', The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. V. Mem-Nun: 7-10.
'Introduction', The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. V. Mem-Nun: 11-13.
'Words Beginning with Mem and Nun in Order of Frequency', The Dictionary of Classical
Hebrew. V. Mem-Nun: 32-92.
'Bibliography', The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. V. Mem-Nun: 820-922.
'"D [enclitic mem]', The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. V. Mem-Nun: 96-102.
'TliJC I refuge', The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. V. Mem-Nun: 384-85.
'T1I7Q II strength', The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. V. Mem-Nun: 385-86.
475
'The Disjoined Body: The Body and the Self in Hebrew Rhetoric', in G.A. van der Heever and
S.W. van Heerden (eds.), Biblical Interpretation (University of South Africa, Pretoria,
2001): 148-57.
'The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew, Vol. 5 Mem-Nun: Bibliography to Mem', 87 pp.*
'The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew, Vol. 5 Mem-Nun: Bibliography to Nun', 47 pp.*
'725 New Words Beginning with Mem or Nun', 16 pp.*
'725 New Words Beginning with Mem or Nun: Handout with List of Words', 16 pp.*
'What Remains of the Old Testament? Its Text and Language in a Postmodern Age', 26 pp.*;
published in 2002.
'Does the Book of Job Suggest that Suffering is Not a Problem?', 15 pp.*; published in 2002.
'Writing a Program for Alphabetizing Hebrew', 9 pp.*
'Foreword', in C.-S. Abraham Cheong, A Dialogic Reading of The Steward Parable (Luke
16:1-9) (Studies in Biblical Literature, 28; New York: Peter Lang, 2001): xiii-xv.
'The Poetic Achievement of the Book of Job', 7 pp.*
'Guide for (Somewhat) Advanced Users of Office 2001, Especially Word 2001', 11 pp.*
'All 2194 Words Beginning Mem and Nun', 63 pp.*
'All 2194 Words Beginning Mem and Nun, by Frequency', 60 pp.*
'All 1343 Common Nouns Beginning Mem and Nun', 37 pp.*
'All 1343 Common Nouns Beginning Mem and Nun, by Gender', 39 pp.*
'All 1451 Words Beginning Mem and Nun, in BDB', 42 pp.*
'All 1985 Words Beginning Mem and Nun in Biblical Hebrew', 54 pp.*
'All 725 New Words Beginning with Mem or Nun, by Corpus', 15 pp.*
'All 725 New Words in Classical Hebrew Beginning Mem and Nun by their First Proposer',
22pp.*
'All 534 New Words in Biblical Hebrew Beginning Mem and Nun, with their First Proposer',
15pp.*
'All 534 New Words in Biblical Hebrew Beginning Mem and Nun, with the Cognate
Language They Depend On', 17 pp.*
'All 534 New Words in Biblical Hebrew Beginning Mem and Nun, with the Date They Were
First Proposed', 18pp.*
'All 534 New Words in Biblical Hebrew Beginning Mem and Nun, with the Place of
Publication and School of the Author', 21 pp.*
'All 51 New Words in Classical Hebrew Inscriptions Beginning Mem and Nun', 2 pp.*
'All 56 New Words in Classical Hebrew Beginning Mem and Nun Noted by KoehlerBaumgartner', 2 pp.*
'All 91 New Words in Classical Hebrew Beginning Mem and Nun Noted by D. Winton
Thomas', 3 pp.*
2002
'What Remains of the Old Testament? Its Text and Language in a Postmodern Age', Studio
Theologica 54: 76-95.
'He-Prophets: Masculinity as a Problem for the Hebrew Prophets and their Interpreters', in
Alastair G. Hunter and Philip R. Davies (eds.), Sense and Sensitivity: Essays on Reading
the Bible in Memory of Robert Carroll (JSOTSup, 348; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic
Press, 2002): 311-28.
'The fear of the Lord is wisdom' (Job 28.28): A Semantic and Contextual Study', 16 pp.*
'Putting Elihu in his Place: A Proposal for the Relocation of Job 32-37', 8 pp.*
'Accordance: A Basic Guide for Students of the English Bible', 4 pp.*
476
'Accordance: A Basic Guide for Students of Greek', 6 pp.*

'Accordance: A Basic Guide for Students of Hebrew', 6 pp.*
'Dictionary of Classical Hebrew: Addenda and Corrigenda, Version 1, December 2002', 27 pp.*
2003
Weisheit in Israel: Beitrage des Symposiums Das Alte Testament und die Kultur der
Moderne anldsslich des 100. Geburtstags Gerhard von Rods (19011971) Heidelberg,
18.-21. Oktober 2001 (ed. David J.A. dines, Hermann Lichtenberger and Hans-Peter
Miiller; Altes Testament und Moderne, 12; Minister: Lit Verlag, 2003), 205 pp.
'Does the Book of Job Suggest that Suffering is Not a Problem?', in David J.A. Clines,
Hermann Lichtenberger and Hans-Peter Miiller (eds.), Weisheit in Israel (Altes
Testament und Moderne, 12; Miinster: Lit Verlag, 2003): 93-110.
' "The Fear of the Lord is Wisdom" (Job 28:28): A Semantic and Contextual Study', in Ellen
van Wolde (ed.), Job 28. Cognition in Context (Biblical Interpretation Series, 64;
Leiden: EJ. Brill, 2003): 57-92.
In Press
'Lamentations', in J. W. Rogerson and J.D.G. Dunn (eds.), Eerdmans Commentary on the Bible
(Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003): 600-605.
'Paul, the Invisible Man', in Janice Capel Anderson and Stephen D. Moore (eds.), New Testament Masculinities (Semeia Studies; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature).
'Esther and the Future of the Commentary', in Leonard Greenspoon and Sidnie White Crawford (eds.), The Book of Esther in Modern Research (JSOTSup, 380; Sheffield: Sheffield
Academic Press, 2003).
'725 New Words Beginning with Mem or Nun', in Mathias Augustin (ed.), Communications
to the International Organization for the Study of the Old Testament Congress, Basel
2001.
'DTK, the Hebrew for "Human, Humanity": A Response to James Barr', VT.
'The Poetic Achievement of the Book of Job', for Luis Alonso Schokel Memorial Volume.
'Job's Fifth Friend: An Ethical Critique of the Book of Job', Biblnt.
'Making Waves Gently: The Contribution of Norman Whybray to British Old Testament
Study', in Katherine Dell and Margaret Barker (eds.), 7 have taught you the way of
wisdom' (Prov 4.11): Articles on Wisdom by R. Norman Whybray (Society for Old Testament Study Monograph Series; Aldershot, Hants.: Ashgate Publishing).
'Putting Elihu in his Place: A Proposal for the Relocation of Job 32-37', JSOT.
In Preparation
Job 21-42 (WBC, 18; Nashville: Thomas Nelson), c. ex + 700 pp.
The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew: Samekh-Pe, VI (Sheffield: Hebrew Dictionary Ltd), c.
900 pp.
Bibliography as at 30 June 2003. This Bibliography does not include book reviews, except for
a few longer reviews, nor books of which D.J.A. Clines was the General Editor. An asterisk
at the end of an item indicates a paper published on the Web, at www.sheffield.ac.uk/bibs/
DJACcurrres/Articles.html
INDEXES
INDEX OF REFERENCES
BIBLE
Old Testament
Genesis
1-11
79-81,96,
328
1-3
133
1-2
85
1
280,322,
323,326
1.1-2.4
320
1.2
85
1.26
321,322
1.27
321
1.28
321
1.29-31
326
2-^
327
2-3
67,72,
134, 135,
323,325
2
322
2.2-3
85
2.8
66
2.9
72
2.10-14
84,454
2.16
324
2.18
322
2.23
323
2.24
322
3-4
110,324
3
322
3.4
65
3.8
149
3.16
135
3.20
72
4
4.7
4.9
4.10
4.14
4.16
5
5.18
5.21-24
5.21
5.22
5.24
5.29
6.3
9.27
12
12.1-3
15.2
16
17.20
18.12
18.14
18.17
22
22.35
22.36
24.67
25-33
27.24
27.38
28-35
28
255
135,324
16
378
67
67
255
255-257
255,257
259
259
259
327
324
243
96
79,80
244
437
321
67
16
16
112-14
113
113
349,350
444
17
243
435,444
444,446,
447
28.10-20
28.11
28.12
28.13-14
28.16-17
28.19
28.21
30.21
31.43-54
32
33
33.4
33.10
33.12-16
33.18-20
33.18
33.20
34
34.2
34.3
34.4
34.5
34.7
34.8
34.9
34.12
34.13
34.14-15
444,445
445
349
446
445
445
444
444
437
444
444
444
444
444
444,445
444
445
219,435,
437, 44042,44447
436,437
437,438,
443
438
441,442
441,443
438
438
438
438,439,
442
439
478
Genesis (cont.)
34.16
438
34.21
438
34.25-26
440
34.26
436,438,
440
34.27
440,442
34.30-31
440
35
445-47
35.1-3
445
35.1
444
35.2
65
35.3
444
35.4
444
35.7
445
35.11-12
446
35.11
321
36.38-39
69
37.32-35
349
37.33-35
350
37.35
261
38.12-18
350
47
86
47.15
85
47.17
85
47.19
85
47.27
321
49
246
49.7
219
50.10
349
Exodus
1-16
1-15
1.1-15.21
1.7
3.12
6.23
7-11
7.20-25
12.13
12.23
14-15
15
15.1-21
15.1-18
15.18
86
83, 85, 86,
109
85
321
54
359
83
84
370
370
86
86,246
83
83
84,86
15.21
15.22-16.36
15.22-27
15.22-25
15.26
16-18
16
16.1-36
16.1-19
16.1-3
16.3
16.6
16.8
16.12
16.14
16.15
16.17
16.18
16.20
16.22-34
17.1-7
17
17.3
17.6
17.14
18
18.9
19.12
19.13
19.14-15
20
20.5-6
20.12
21.6
21.15
21.17
22.15-16
22.22-23
23.20-33
23.33
24
24.1-2
24.1
24.9-11
24.9
24.10
25
28.1
83
85
83,84
84
84
83,380
85,86
83
84
380
85,87
85
85
85
85
85
85
85
85
85
83,84
381
381
454
164
382
247,251
65
65
65
381
334
293,333
377
333
333
438
237
370
54
360
360
359
360
359
360
359
210,359
29.27
30.7
30.8
30.9
31.12-17
32
32.34
34.7
34.13
34.29
35.1-3
37.3
37.13
38.27
40.11
Leviticus
1-7
5.2
7.21
8
9
9.23-24
10-16
10
10.1-3
10.1
10.2
10.3
10.19
11.7
11.10-13
11.10
11.29
14.7
14.8-9
14.8
16
16.12-13
16.12
16.13
16.16
16.17
18-20
19.3
19.26-28
20.9
372
362
362
362
295
208
124
296
72
247
295
245
245
245
190
359,362
63
63,71
359
359
359
441
359,360,
363
359,360
362
360
363
16
69
63
63,71
69
66
65,66
65
361
362
360,361
361
361
361
441
295
72
333
479
Index of References
23
23.3
23.13
23.17
23.37
25
25.42-43
Numbers
3.4
6.25
8
8.7
8.8
8.21
10-16
11
11.22
11.26
12
13
13.32-33
14
14.18
15.32-36
16-17
16
16.6
16.7
16.17
16.18
16.22
16.30
16.33
16.35
16.46
17
17.5
17.6-15
17.11
17.13
20.23-28
21
21.1
24.6
24.17
24.19
362
295
362
362
362
387
387
362
191
207
66
66
65
380
382
19
190
208,382
383
383
383
296
295
360
360,363
360
360
360
360
16
261
261
360
361
212,361
362
361
361
361
210
380
243
66
187, 189,
190, 194
243
25.1-12
25.1
26.61
29-30
70
380
362
362
Deuteronomy
4.7
17
4.13
294,298,
299
4.32
85
4.40
292
5
290,295
5.6-22
290
5.6-16
296
5.6
290,294,
295
5.7-16
293,294
5.7
290,295
5.8
290,295
5.9
291,293,
295
5.10
291,295
5.11
291,295
5.12-15
295,296,
298
5.12
291,292
5.13
291,292
5.14
291,292
5.15
291
5.16
291-93,
295, 296,
298,333
5.17-21
293,294,
297
5.17
291,293
5.18
291,293
5.19
291
5.20
291
5.21
291,294
5.22
298,299
5.26
17
6-7
370
6.4
50
6.11
85
7.2-6
447
7.5
72
7.6
85
7.8
85
7.9
7.15
7.16
7.24-26
8.10
8.12
9
9.4
9.5
10.4
12.2
12.3
13.12-18
13.12
13.15
14.8
14.24
15
15.12-14
15.14
15.15
15.16-17
16.21
18
18.2-3
18.10-11
20.3
20.10-18
20.16-17
20.19-20
20.19
20.20
21.1-9
21.10-14
21.18-21
22.6-7
22.13-29
22.28-29
24.6
28.60
29.4
31.19-22
32-33
32
32.2
32.30
32.39
34.1-4
85
84
447
447
85
85
208
365,368
365,368
299
72
72
22
222
222
69
372
384,387
377
387
387
377
72
292
292
72
125
21
22
13, 17
16,18,19
14
378
22,437
332
21
437
438
21
84
85
164
17
246
169
17
44
305
480
Joshua
21.13-19
24.33
207
207
Judges
5.18
6.16
6.25-26
11.29-40
17-21
19-21
19
19.22-20.7
20
20.28
193
54
72
113
216
219,220
174,217
437
217,223
207
1 Samuel
1-3
1.2
1.20
2.25
3.6-11
4.8-5.1
6.1-18
10.10
11.2
12.6
12.8
14.29-30
14.45
16.4
16.5
18.10
22.2
22.7
28.13
31.13
9
178
408
332
178
178
69
185
17
207
207
332
332
17
66
185
336
17
70
349
2 Samuel
1.17-26
5.12
6.17
7
7.11-17
7.12-13
7.12
7.13-16
7.16
350
58
17
55,56,59
56
58
55,56
55
55,56,58
7.18-28
7.25-29
7.26
7.28-29
8.17
10.2
12.15-23
12.16
12.24
13
13.32
13.33
13.38-39
13.39
15.24-36
17.14
18.3
18.24-33
18.29
19.23
22.20
56
55
58
56
206
349
349
70
349,350
437
365,367,
368
365,368
349
349
206
332
54
53
17
54
206
/ Kings
I
1.24
2.12
2.26-27
2.33
2.46
3
10
11-12
II
11.41
14.15
14.19
14.23
14.29
15.18
21
21.2
21.29
22.1-40
206
17
58
208
56
58
313,314
313
336
8
103
348
103
67,72
103
186
100
100
54
186
2 Kings
2.19-22
3.19
6.12
9-10
11
16.4
17.10
17.16-17
18.4
18.22
20.19
21.6-7
21.18
21.26
22.12
22.14
22.20
23.14-15
23.29
24.10
25.2
Isaiah
1-39
1
1.1
1.2-4
1.2
1.9-10
1.10-17
1.10
1.11-15
1.13
1.14
1.15
1.16-17
1.16
1.17
1.18-23
1.20
1.21-26
1.21-25
1.21-23
1.21
84
22
1.22-23
2
336
336
67,72
67,72
72
54,72
67
53
72
2,69
69
69
69
54
72
186
14
14
3,51,57,
59, 60,
423
424,429
5
426
424, 428
426
285
428
426
362
43
393,426
426
390
426
431
424,428
423-25,
429,431
427,428,
431
425
424-26,
428-31
426
481
Index of References
1.22
1.23
1.24-26
1.24-25
1.24
1.25
1.26-27
1.26
1.27-31
1.27-28
1.27
1.28
1.29-30
1.29
1.30
1.31
2.3
2.5
3.4-5
3.6
3.16-24
3.16
3.24
3.25
4.1
4.2
4.3
5
5.8
5.13
5.14
5.16
5.25
5.26
5.29
5.30
6
6.3
6.9-10
7.3
429,431
424-26,
429-31
425
425,427,
430
425,428,
429,431
428,429,
431,432
426
424-31
63
425
263,26567, 284,
425
424-26
66
63, 67, 68,
71,425
54,71
424
44,286
392
330
431
431
431
431
430,431
431
431
454
396
385
126
125, 126
263,265,
267, 268
428
390
428
428
393,429
391
393
392
7.14
7.53
8.3
8.19-20
8.22
9.5-6
9.6
9.11
9.16
9.20
10.4
10.15
10.22
11.1
11.2
11.10
11.16
12.3
12.6
13-14
13.7
14.13
15-16
15.2
16.1
16.4-5
16.5
16.12
17
17.8
17.10-11
18
18.3
19
19.19-20
23.1-3
24.16
26.3
27.9
28.16
28.17
29.1-5
29.1
30.18
390,394,
396,398
398
391
70
192
57
58
428
428
428
428
16
263,265,
267
391
185,391
391
392
390,396
431
393
125
52
393
67
391
57
58
67
393
72
68
393
392
393
391
349,350
263,266,
267
394
72
391
263,26567
431
431
392
32.8
33
33.5
33.14
34-35
35.1
35.2
35.4
35.8
36-39
36-38
36.7
37.2
37.15
37.17
37.20
37.21
37.25
37.35
38.1
38.3
38.4
38.5
38.10
38.15-17
38.17
38.18-19
38.19
38.20
39-40
39
39.6
39.8-55.3-5
39.8
40-66
40-55
40.1-2
40.3
40.9
41.2
41.8-9
41.10
41.27
42.1-7
392
51
263,265,
267
283
51
391
391
391
427
52,53
53
67
53
53
53
53
53
396
58,59
53
54
53
59
53
53
54
54
54
53
51
52,58
54
59
52-60
57-60,
264, 391
51,263
351
392
391,392
263,266,
267
58
263,266,
267
392
60
482
Isaiah (cont.)
42.1
58,391
42.3
58
42.6
263,266,
267
42.21
263,266,
267
43.7
427
43.17
278
44.26
369
45.7
44
45.8
263-68,
391
45.9-10
333
45.13
263,266,
267
45.14
60
45.19
263,264,
266, 267
45.21
263,264,
266, 267
45.22
60
45.23
263,265,
267
45.24
263-65,
267
45.25
263,266,
267
46.12
125,263,
265,267
46.13
60,26365, 267,
391
47.8
52,67
48.1
427
48.2
427
48.18-19
58
48.18
263-65,
267
48.22
57
49.1
391
49.6
391
49.10
391
49.11
392
49.20
391
49.21
52
49.22-23
60
49.22
455

50.7
50.8
267
263,26567
50.9
265
51.1
263,266,
267
51.3
67
51.5
263-65,
267
51.6
263-65,
267
51.7
263,266,
267
51.8
263-65,
267
51.18
455
51.19
348
52-53
193
52.1
60
52.7
57
52.10
60
52.13-53.12 192
53
192,390
53.8
391
53.12
192, 193
54
58
54.1-10
455
54.1
455
54.7-8
340
54.10
58
54.13-14
58
54.13
60,264
54.14
58,263,
265, 267
54.17
60,265,
267
55
59
55.1-13
59
55.1-3
59
55.1
390,396
55.3-5
59,60
55.3
60
55.4-5
59
55.10
85
55.13
390
56-66
51,64,
263, 393
56.1-8
369
56.1-2
56.1
56.3-8
56.3-7
56.5
57.2
57.3-13
57.4
57.5
57.6
57.7
57.8
57.9
57.10
57.13
57.17-20
57.21
58.2
58.8
58.11
58.12
59.9
59.14
59.16
59.17
59.20-21
60-61
60.14
60.17
60.18
61.1
61.3
61.6
61.10
61.11
62.1
369
263-67
365,369
369
392
70
64,68-70,
72
69
70
68
70
70
70
70
70
58
57,58
263,26567
263,265,
267
66
427
263,26567
263,26567
263,264,
266, 267
263-65,
267
397
455
427
390
427
191,391
263,266,
267, 427
391
263,264,
266, 267
263,265,
267
263,264,
266, 267
483
Index of References
62.2
62.4
62.10
62.12
63.1
265,267,
427
427
66.18
66.19
66.24
66.51
392
427
263-65,
267
393
124
396
64
63,68,69,
71
63
395
393
66-70,
395
69,70
65
68,69
65
393
393
64
69
455
391
63
63,64,
67-69,7173
63
391
393
392
Jeremiah
1.7
2.2-3
2.5
2.10
2.20
3.6
3.12
3.13
3.16
3.17
365,368
83
333
16
72
72
340
70,72
10
427
63.13-15
63.14
65
65.1-12
65.1-7
65.2-5
65.2-3
65.2
65.3
65.4
65.5
65.7
65.11
65.13-14
66.1-5
66.3-4
66.3
66.7-14
66.7
66.15-16
66.17
3.25
4.23-28
7.18
8.22
9.26
11.20
12.6
14.13
14.20
16.7
17.2
18.16
19.13
20.7
23.3
26.17-19
26.22
29.5
29.28
31.12
31.15
33.6
333
385
362
19
337
333
330
54
333
349
72
348
362
123
10
54
69
66
66
66
54
54
33.16
44.15-19
46-51
48.10
51.46
52.5
427
68
393
222
125
14
Ezekiel
8.3
8.7-13
8.7
8.9
8.10
8.11
8.12
8.14-15
8.14
8.16
8.17
13.9
14.21-23
16.17
16.18
20
20.18
22.7
64
71
64
362
63,71
68,362
72
71
64
64
69
454
351
70
362
83
333
330
22.22
23.32
23.41
25-32
26.15-17
28.13
31.8-9
31.9
32.27
32.32
36-37
36.25
36.27
36.35
37
37.1-14
37.15-28
38-39
245
123
362
393
349,350
67
66,67
67
261
454
189
189
189
67
189
189
189
185,189,
190
38
38.8-9
38.21
39
39.4
39.11-12
39.23
39.25
39.28
189
189
190
190
190
190
187
187
187
39.29
40.46
43.19
44.10
44.15
47.1-12
48.11
48.35
185
207,213
207,213
212
207,212,
213
84,454
207,213
427
Hosea
1.1
4.16
7.2
5
17
365,368
Joel
1.4
2.1-17
2.3
2.20
384
188
67
188
484
Joel (cont.)
2.28-32
2.28

12.11
3.5
4.18
188
185, 188,
191
188
188
185,188,
191
188
454
Amos
1-2
2.16
4
8.14
393
125
384
70
2.32
3.1-5
3.1
Micah
1.15
4.14
6.4
7.5-6
7.18-20
336
336
207
330
44
Nahum
3.7
348
Zephaniah
3.18
191
Haggai
1.13
369
Zechariah
1.4-6
2.14-15
8.3
8.6
12
12.1-9
12.2-3
12.3
12.8
12.9
12.10
104
192
427
17
184, 188,
189
185, 189
185, 190
184
188
184, 185,
188, 190
184, 18691
13.1
14.2
14.8
184,186,
190, 191
454
188
454
Malachi
1.1
2.7
2.12
3.1-4
3.12
3.21
4.5
369
370
243
370
54
54
131
Psalms
2
2.4
4.2
5
5.8
5.9
7
7.10
7.12
7.18
8
8.3
9
9.5
9.9
11.7
15
18
18.44-51
19.2
19.5
19.10
22.32
23.3
24
24.1-6
24.1
24.2
24.3-6
24.3
450
122, 123
268,270
269
269
268,270
269
268,270
268,270
268,270
325
455
269
268,270
268-70
268,270
283-85
59,60
59
241
283
268-70
268,270
124,26870
275,276,
283,450
282
281
281
282
282
24.4
24.5
24.6
24.8
27.14
30.6
31.2
31.25
33.4
33.5
35.24
35.27
35.28
36.6
36.7
36.8
36.11
38.12
40.10
40.11
41.10
42-49
42-43
42
44
45^18
46-48
283-85
268-70,
282
285,286
277
125
340
268,270
125
269
268-70
268,270
268-70
268,270
269,270
268-70
269
268-70
330
268,270
268-70
330
457,458
458
179
458
458
456,457
46
46.5
46.11
47
47.3
48
48.2
48.9
48.11
49
50
50.6
51
51.4
51.6
51.16
59.9
63.9
65.6
69.28
456,458
454,456
456
456
456
456,458
456
456
268-70
458
269,270
268,270
269
65
268-70
268-70
123
437
268-70
268,270
485
Index of References
69.9
69.21
71.1
71.2
71.15
71.16
71.19
71.22
71.24
72
72.1
72.2
72.3
72.7
76.6
77.21
78.8
78.53
84-85
84
84.2
84.7
84.12
85
85.2
85.8
85.9-14
85.10
85.11
85.12-13
85.12
85.14
87_gg
87
87.1-3
87.1-2
87.1
87.2
87.3-7
87.3
330
348
268
268,270
268-70
268,270
268,270
269
268,270
56
269,270
268-70
56,26870
56,26870
125
124
333
124
457-59
458
459
459
459
458
459
269,459
458
269
268-70
458
268-70
268,270
457,458
451,452,
456-59
453,454,
459
453,455
452,453,
456
451,452,
454, 456,
459
454
452,453,
456,459
87.4-6
87.4
87.5
87.6
87.7
88
88.12
88.13
89
89.2
89.3
89.5
89.6-19
89.6
89.9
89.15
89.17
89.25
89.27
89.29
89.34
89.38
89.39-46
89.48
89.50
93.3
94.15
96.10
96.13
97.2
97.6
97.13
98.1
98.2
98.3
98.9
99.4
103
103.4
103.6
103.8
453,454,
459
452,453,
456
453,456,
457
453
453,454,
456, 457,
459
458
269
268,270
55, 56,59
270
269
58,269
58
270
55,269
55,269
55,26870
268,270
55,269
269
55
55,269
58
270
16
55,269
282
268-70
269
268-70
268-70
268-70
270
269
268-70
269
268-70
268-70
269
269
268-70
269
103.9
103.11
103.17
104
104.16-18
104.19-23
104.22-28
105.26
106
106.6
106.28
111.3
112.1-3
113.6-7
115.4
115.10
115.12
116.5
116.6
118.3
119.7
119.25
119.40
119.62
119.75
119.106
119.123
119.137
119.138
119.139
119.142
119.144
119.160
119.164
119.172
128
129.4
143.1
143.11
143.12
145.7
145.15-16
145.17
151.4
340
269
268-70
280,326,
327
326
326
84
208
83
333
70
268,270
54
372
54
208
208
268-70
269
208
268,270
437
268,270
268,270
268-70
268,270
268-70
268,270
268-70
270
268-70
268,270
268-70
268,270
268,270
54
268,270
268-70
268,270
269
268,270
84
268-70
370
Job
1-2
349
486
Job (cont.)
1.9
1.21
2.11
3-27
3
3.1
3.2
3.3-19
3.3-10
3.3-4
3.3
3.4-5
3.4
3.5
3.6-9
3.6
3.8
3.9
3.10
3.11
3.12
3.13-14
3.15
3.16
3.17
3.18
3.20-26
3.20-22
3.20
3.22
3.23
3.24-26
3.24
3.25-26
4.6
5.2
5.23
5.25-27
6.12
7.19
9.24

16
354
348
348,351
251,351
242
244
249
249
247
248-50
249
243,246,
247, 249
243
249
243,24650
243
244,246,
248
244
244,246,
250
250
244
244,250
250
244,249,
-250
244
249
249
244,249
244
244,245,
249
249
245,250
245,246
18
353
23
54
19
19
236
10.2-3
10.5
13.2
16.2
19.13-19
21.21
21.34
22.19
24
31.27
31.33
31.39
33
38-41
38.4
38.12
40.9
42
42.6
42.7-17
42.10-17
42.11-13
42.11
Proverbs
1-9
1.1-7
1.1
1.2-7
1.2-4
1.2
1.4
1.5
1.6
1.8-19
1.8-9
1.8
1.10
1.15
1.20-33
1.26
2.1-22
128
19
249
351
330
54
351
123
238
243
134
23
242
388
129
129
129
139
136,340
349
134
350
139,348
156, 157,
159-61,
163,165,
167, 168,
230
157,159
167
159
167
159,167
157,159
159,167
159,167,
168
157
159
155,156,
159,163
159
159
157
123
157,168
2.1-4
2.2
2.5-6
3.1-12
3.13-20
3.21-35
3.28
4.1-9
4.1-2
4.1
4.3-9
4.3
4.4-9
4.10-19
4.11
4.20-27
5.1-23
5.1
5.15-19
5.16
6.1-19
6.6-11
6.20-35
6.20
6.30
7.1-27
7.21
7.24
8.1-36
8.1-4
8.17
8.22
9.1-18
9.3-6
10-31
10-29
10.1-22.16
10.1
11.18
12.11
12.14
12.18
12.24
12.27
13.11
13.14
168
159
168
157
157
157
367
157
157
156,159
157
155, 156,
163
157
157
159
157
157
159
182
17
157
232
157
155, 156,
163
230
157
169
159
157
168
168
129
157
168
168,237
160,230
230,364
167
234
232
232
167
232
232
233
167
487
Index of References
13.23
13.25
14.3
14.6
14.20
14.21
14.31
15.2
15.7
16.10
16.14
16.21
16.23
16.26
16.31
17.5
234
234
167
168
235
236
236
167
167
231
231
169
167, 169
235
233
123,236
18.23
19.15
19.24
19.27
20.1
20.4
20.22
235
232
232
160
364
232
365
21.5
21.9
21.13
21.17
21.19
21.25
22.7
22.9
22.13
22.17-24.34
22.17-24.22
22.17-21
22.17
22.20
22.22-23
23.10-11
23.15
23.19
232
330
235,237
233
330
232
235
236
232
236
163,364
163
163, 167
163
236
236,237
160
160,163
23.22
23.26
24.13
24.21
24.23-34
163
160
160
160
160,364
24.23
24.29
167
365
24.30-34
24.33-34
24.34
25-29
25-27
25.1
25.2-27
25.6-7
25.24
26.4
26.7
26.9
26.13-14
232
160
160
230
154,364
167,231
154
231
330
364
167
167
231
26.13
26.14
26.15
26.16
27.1
27.2
27.11
27.15
28.15
28.19
28.27
29.13
30-31
30.1-9
30.2
31.3
31.26
232
232
232
232
364
364
160
330
235
232
236
236,239
159,161
155
160
70
155
Ruth
4
Song of Songs
1.2-2.7
1.5-6
1.5
1.6
1.7-8
2.1-2
2.3
2.5
2.7
2.8-3.5
2.8-17
100
145
181
179
139
181
148, 181
181
181
141,181
141, 142,
144, 147
141, 144,
145,147-
2.8-9
2.8
2.9
2.10-17
2.10-14
2.10-13
2.10
2.11
2.12
2.13-14
2.13
2.14
2.15-17
2.15-16
2.15
2.16-17
2.16
2.17-3.1
2.17
3
3.1-5
3.1
3.2
3.3
3.4
3.5
3.6-11
4.1-2
4.5-6
4.5
4.6
4.9
51
144-46,
149
141, 142,
144, 145,
149
142
148
142, 144,
150
146, 182
142, 146,
147
142,147
142, 147
146,147
142, 146,
147
137, 142,
145,147,
148
148
149
143,145,
148
145
143,14850
144
141,14350
138
141, 144,
150,151,
181
141,143
143
143, 144
139, 143,
148
143, 145
179,181
134
150
150
150
132, 139,
181
488
Song of Songs (cont.)

4.12
66
4.13
66
4.15
66
5
138
5.1
132
5.2-6.3
141
5.2-8
181
5.2-6
149
5.2
132
5.8
181
5.9
137
5.11-12
134
5.15
132
6.1-3
181
6.2-3
148
6.10
283
7.10
135
8.1-3
181
8.6-7
181
8.6
133, 135,
177
8.7
139, 181
8.11-12
179
8.14
149,151
Ecclesiastes
2.5
3.19-21
3.21
4.13-14
4.17-5.6
5.1
5.5-6
5.5
7.10
8.12-13
11.9
12.1
12.9
12.10
12.12
12.13-14
66
370
371
372
370-72
370
372
369,370
366,369
373
373
373
164, 168
164
156
373
Lamentations
1.1
424
2.1
424
Esther
9.30
54
Daniel
9
261
Ezra
7.2
9.1-4
9.4
207
349
349
Nehemiah
11.11
207
1 Chronicles
5.29-41
6.35-38
207,213
207, 21L
213
7.20-23
7.22-23
349
350
10.12
14.2
14.17
17.11
349
58
58
55
17.23-24
55
17.26
56
22.9
22.10
23-26
24.3
24.6
28.7
56
58
207
207,213
207,213
58
2 Chronicles
1.9
55
2.3
362
6.17
55
9
313
12.8
54
14.2
72
15
27,33
15.1
25,26
15.8
25,26
16.14
70
26.16-21
207
28
27,33
28.4
72
28.9
25
29-31
30.10
31.10
31.20
32.1
34.4
34.7
54
123
207
56
56
72
72
35.24-25
186
36.15
370
Apocrypha
Tobit
1.7
210
Judith
4.6
4.8
4.14
11.13
15.8
16.24
210
210
210,21
211
210
349
Ecclesiasticus
3.1
3.17
4.1
5.1-6
5.1
5.3
5.4-5
156
156
156
367
365
365
365
5.6
5.7
5.9
6.36
8.8
365
365
365
122, 12
169
11.23-25
367
11.23
11.24
365
365
15.11-20
15.11
367
365-67
15.12
365
16.17
365,36
18.29
22.12
31.12
31.31
33.18
34.12
169
349
367
367
160
365
489
Index of References
38.16-23
38.17-18
38.18
38.24
38.33
39.1-3
39.3
41.14
44-49
44.16
45.6-22
45.25
46.1
48.8
48.36
49.14
50
50.13
50.16
51.12
51.18
51.23
51.25
354
350
353
169,231
169
169
169
156
9
254
209
209
9
9
391
254
209
209
209
209,213
122,123
164
164
1 Maccabees
5
7.5-25
7.11-14
7.14
7.26-50
255
210
205
210,211
255
10.17-21
206
2 Maccabees
3.4
205
4.7-10
205
4.23-25
205
4.34
205
13.3-8
210
14.3
205
14.13
205
New Testament
Matthew
1.14
212
10.34-36
330
15.24
43
27.25
393
Mark
3.5
6
6.30-51
6.30-44
6.45-46
6.47-51
6.52
8.17
8.24
10.5
16.14
87
86
86
86,87
86
86
86
87
22
87
87
Luke
3.23-31
4.31-37
5.31
6.1-11
12.51-53
24.44
212
44
45
42
330
5
John
19.21
69
Acts
7.40
23.8
212
370
Romans
10
11.26-27
395
397
Hebrews
5.4
7.11
9.4
13.12
212
212
212
194
Revelation
19.7
20.8-9
130
189
89.59-90.25
90.40
90.42
91-105
91.11-17
91.16-17
92.1
93.1-10
93.2
103.7-8
261
258
258
255
255
258
257,260
255
258
261
OTHER ANCIENT REFERENCES

Pseudepigrapha
1 Enoch
1-36
255
6-16
254
12-16
259
17-36
259
23-36
254
72-90
254
72-82
255,256
72-75
256
73.4-8
256
74.2
256
74.3-9
256
76-79
256
80-82
257
81
258
81.6
82
82.2-3
83-90
83-84
258
256
257,260
255
258,260
83.2
83.3
83.6
83.7
85-90
85.2
85.3
255
258
258
258
258
258
255,258
85.9
89.18
89.31
89.37
258
209
209
209
Epistle ofAristeas
1
210
6
210
11
210
32
210
490
Epistle ofAristeas (cont.)

35
210
41
210
51
210
53
210
81
210
83
210
87
210
92
210
96
210
112
210
123
210
126
210
172-73
210
310
210
320
210
Greek Apocalypse of Ezra
3.12-13
330
Jubilees
1.4
1.5-7
1.8
4.15
4.16-25
4.16
4.17-22
4.17-19
4.17-18
4.17
4.18
4.19
4.20
4.21-22
4.21
4.22
4.23-25
4.24
5.1-10
6.20-38
7.20-39
7.29
7.38-39
7.39
8.1-4
10.1-17
10.17
259
260,261
259
257
259
259
257,259
61
259
210
210
210
255
255
40227
2.1-4
2.4-6
259
256
4Q415
2.2.1-9
155
4Q416
2.3.12-15
365
4Q534
1.1.4-5
260
4QMMT
10
212
212
11Q5
21.15
122
5.2
5.9
211
211
5.21-22
212
HQT
22.5
34.13
54.19-21
212
212
330
6.8
6.19
9.6-7
212
212
212
CD
3.21-4.6
20.33
212
125
IQS"
1.2
1.15
1.23
1.24
2.3
2.13
211,212
212
212
211,212
211,212
212
Targums
Targ. Judg.
5.18
193
Targ. 1 Sam.
2.10
190
3.22
211
Targ. 2 Sam.
22.49
190
IQpHab
4.1-2
4.6
123
123
Targ. Ezek.
38-39
190
Targ. Cant.
4.5
7.13
8.4
190
189
189
21.10
30.18-20
31.11-17
32.8-9
34.2-9
37.1-38.14
Qumran
1QM
7.10
17.2
1QS
257
257
257
259
254,255
256
254,255,
259-61
256
255
256,257,
260
254,257,
258, 260,
261
254,255,
257, 258,
260, 261
255,259
255,259
255,259
255,257,
259
259
257
259
259
lQSh
4Q163
22.1.3
212
4Q174
16-17
212
491
Index of References
Mishnah
m. Ab.
2.4
4.8
365
365
Midrash
Gen. R.
19.12
134
Derech Eretz Zutta

2.9
365
4.3
365
4.4
365
Lev. R.
Talmuds
b. Ber.
28a
10
191
391
Mechitta D 'Rabi Isn

20
365
11.6
191
Sifra, Ahare Mot

13.11
365
Dent. R.
2.31
50
Sifra, Qedoshim
4.2
365
2.4
193
Josephus
Ant.
3.101
5.11.5
8.1.3
12.9.7
12.10.6
12.11.2
20.10.2
20.10.3
Sifre, Debarim
16
365
48
365
298
211
211
205
205
205
211
205,211
Pseudo-Eupolemus
1
254
Num. R.
b. Hag.
14a
391
b. Meg.
3a
191
Lam. R.
b. M. Qat.
25b
28b
b. Sank.
lOla
186
186, 1!
177
b. Suk.
52a
191
j. Ta'an.
4.5
193
Tosefta
t. Sank
3.8
365
Other Jewish Writings

Abot deRabbi Nathan
2
365
3
365
Pseudo-Philo
Liber antiquitatum
Biblicarum
12.1-7
211
17.1-4
211
52.2
211
53.9
211
INDEX OF AUTHORS
Abrahams, I. 95
Abuel-Haj,N. 419
Ackerman, G. 312,317
Ackerman, S. 69,71,73
Adara,A.K.M. 301,317
Adams, B. 312,317
Aichele,G. 302,317
Albeck,H. 365,373
Albertz, R. 206, 208, 214, 331, 341, 373,
385,389
Albright, W.F. 93
Alexander, J.A. 54, 61
Allen, R.C. 312,317
Alster,B. 153, 154, 156, 162, 170
Alt, A. 93
Alter, R. 281,287,399,400,435,448
Amit, Y. 436,448
Andersen, F.I. 18,23
Anderson, G. 348-50,357
Andrae.W. 72,73
Assmann, J. 160,170
Auerbach, E. 119
Auffret, P. 281-85,287
Auld,A.G. 1-3,9-11,97, 105
Baltzer,K. 60,61
Barns, J.W.B. 155,170
Barr,J. 23,404-17,419
Barrick, W.B. 68,73
Barrow, J.D. 341
Barstad,H. 3, 10, 11
Barta, W. 329,342
Barth,H. 431,432
Barthelemy, D. 64, 73
Barth.es, R. 278,279,287
Bartlett, J.R. 208,214
Bartolocci, G. 400
Barton, G. 87,306,317
Barton,!. 79,406,419,423,428,432
Bauman,Z. 380,386,389,404,419
Baumgartner, W. 247, 251, 364, 369, 374
Beauchamp, E. 284-86, 288
Bechtel,L.M. 436,448
Becker, U. 429,430,432
Becking, B. 26,29,34
Bellefontaine, E. 332, 342
Benvenisti, M. 419
Benz,F.L. 31,34
Bercovitch, S. 304,307,308,317
Berger,K. 255,257,261
Berges,U. 51,61,429,432
Berkhofer, R.F. 417,420
Berlin, A. 245,251,383,389
Beuken, W.A.M. 60,61
Beyerlin,W. 454,459
Bhabha,H.K. 404,419
Bickel, S. 156, 170
Billerbeck, P. 187, 188, 195
Black, F.C. 278,288
Black, M. 26,32,34
Blenkinsopp, J. 58,61,68,73
Bloch,M. 409,419
Blum, E. 87, 430, 432, 444, 448
Blunt, A. 395,400
Boer, R. 302,317
Booij,T. 452,459
Bordreuil, P. 31,34
Borger, R. 335,342
Botha, P.J. 284,285,288
Box, G.H. 205,214,367,374
Brauner, R.A. 26,34
Brenner, A. 436,448
Bright,;. 408,419
Brooke, A.E. 93
Brooks, P. 144, 151
Brown, J.P. 118, 119
Index of Authors
Bruce, F.F. 91
Brueggemann, W. 80, 87, 102, 105, 321,
323,328
Brunner, H. 153, 170
Buber,M. 267,271,273,274
Buber, S. 187, 194
Budde,K. 425,426,432
Bullinger, H. 220,227
Burden, T.L. 83, 87
Burgmann, H. 205,214
Burkert,W. 65,69,70,73
Cagni,L. 330,342
Camp, C.V. 154, 170
Carmichael, C. 21,23
Carpenter, E. 340,342
Carr,E.H. 418,419
Carrasco, D. 277,288
Carroll, R.P. 1,3,7, 11,91
Case, S. 222,223,227
Castelli,D. 369,374
Charles, R.H. 258,261
Charpin,D. 337,342
Cheyne,T.K. 71,73
Childs,B.S. 131,140
Chilton,B.D. 194
Chomsky, N. 414,419
Clements, R.E. 52
Clines, D.J.A. ix-xiv, 1, 4, 11, 38-40, 48,
49, 76, 78-80, 83, 86, 87, 90, 98, 99.
102, 104,105,107,117,120,13539, 151, 173, 178, 179, 183,238,
239, 242-51, 275, 276, 279, 280,
282, 284, 288, 340, 342, 352, 357,
404, 405, 407, 416-20, 450,459
Clinton, K. 66,73
Coats, G.W. 83, 88, 339, 342
Cody, A. 26, 34, 206, 207, 214
Coggins,R.J. 97, 101, 105
Cohen, M. 252
Conybeare, F.C. 156, 162, 170, 366, 374
Conrad,!. 331,342
Cook, A. 147, 151
Cooper, AJ. 286,288
Coote,R.B. 413,420
Crenshaw, J.L. 365,374
Cross, P.M. 206,214
Culhane,J. 309,317
493
Curtis,). 130, 140

Cushing, J. 222,227
D'Alario,V. 370,374
Dahood, M. 284,285,288
Dalman, G. 194
Davies, G.I. 25,34
Davies, P.R. 11, 120,211,214,277,288,
420
Davis, E. 324,328
Davis, L. 317
Davis, M. 307,317
Dayagi-Mendels, M. 26, 35
Deck, S. 426, 427, 429, 432
Degen,R. 27,30,31,34
DeHass, F.S. 306,317
Del Monte, G.F. 338,342
Delcor,M. 68,73
Delkurt,H. 104, 105
Delsman,W.C. 26,34
Derrida,J. 280,288
Desroches Noblecourt, C. 330, 342
Dever,W.G. 411,420
De Vries, S.J. 428,432
Diamond, A.R.P. 102, 105
Dietrich, M. 153, 156, 159, 170
Diez Macho, A. 20,23
Di Leila, A. 122,127
Dillmann, A. 71,73
Dion, E. 332,342
Dobbs-Allsopp, F.W. 425, 426, 432
Dogniez, C. 15,24
Dohmen, C. 362,363
Donner, H. 26,27,34
Driver, G.R. 91, 124, 127
Driver, S.R. 20, 24, 364, 374, 379, 389
Duhm, B. 50, 54, 61, 63, 73, 368, 374
Durand,J.-M. 331,342
Dwight,T. 307,318
Eco,U. 276,288
Ehrlich,A.B. 372,374
Eichrodt, W. 69, 73, 93, 94
Eissfeldt, O. 160, 170, 364, 374
Emerton,J.A. 64,73, 125-27
Engnell, I. 92,93
Ettlinger, H.S. 394,400
Ettlinger, L.D. 394,400
494
Evans, E. 40,49
Evans, R.J. 415,418,420
Even-Shoshan, A. 1997
Exum, J.C. 107, 112, 114, 120, 141, 142,
144, 147, 149, 152, 302, 318, 409,
420
Fales,F.M. 331,342
Falk, O.K. 205,214
Faragher, J.M. 308,318
Fechter, F. 329,343
Fensham, F.C. 67,74
Feucht, E. 331,334,343
Feuerstein, 51, 62
Feuillet,A. 146, 152
Fewell, D.N. 99, 106, 107, 277, 288,436,
448
Fey, R. 426,429,432
Field, F. 53,62
Filson,J. 308,318
Finkelstein, I. 413,420
Finkelstein, L. 365,374
Fischer, I. 59,62
Fischer-Elfert, H.-W. 337, 343
Fitzmyer, J.A. 26,34,210,214
Fletcher, J: 223, 225, 227
Fohrer, G. 249, 252, 428, 432
Fontaine, C.V. 153, 170
Foster, B.R. 153, 170, 330, 343
Fowler, J.D. 28,31,35
Fox, M.V. 143, 146, 150, 152, 155-57,
159, 166, 167, 170,231,239
Freedman, D.N. 436,448
Fretheim, I.E. 82-84, 88
Frymer-Kinsky, T. 436,448
Fuhs,H.F. 26,27,35
Gallagher, W.R. 336,343
Camper, A. 332,343
Garber,M. 406,420
Garcia Martinez, F. 122, 127, 256, 262
Gardiner, A.H. 162, 170
Garr, W.R. 31,35
Gerstenberger, E.S. 385, 389
Gesenius, W. 251,441
Gibson, J.C.L. 26,29,35
Ginsberg, H.L. 28, 31, 35, 365, 369, 374
Ginsburg, C.D. 371,374
Ginzberg, L. 393,400
Girard, M. 283, 284, 286, 288
Giveon,R. 337,343
Glatzer,N. 134, 140
Gleis, M. 68,74
Gogel, S.L. 25-27,35
Gomersall, R. 216, 217, 219, 221, 225,
227
Gordon, C.H. 93
Gordon, E.I. 366,374
Gordon, R.P. 11, 192, 194
Gorg, M. 56,62,300
Gottwald, N.K. 203
Gouder,T.C. 121, 123, 124, 127
Grabbe, L.L. 9, 10, 12, 96, 205, 206, 209,
214
Grayson, A.K. 331, 334-36, 343

Greenfield, J. 26, 29, 30, 33, 35
Grelot, P. 192, 194, 254, 260-62, 330,
343
Gressmann, H. 26, 35
Grisanti, M.A. 340,342
Groves, J.W. 429,432
Gruber, M.I. 245, 252, 436, 448
Grumach, I. 158, 170
Gunn, D.M. 99, 106, 107, 108, 120,409,
421,436,448
Gunneweg, A.H.J. 206,208,215
Habel, N. 352,357
Hammershaimb, E. 39, 49
Handelman, S.A. 399, 400
Hanhart, R. 205,214
Hanson, P.O. 427,433
Harby, C. 306,318
Hardmeier, C. 425, 429, 433
Harl,M. 15,24
Harnack, A. von 41,49
Harrington, DJ. 155, 171, 365, 366, 374,
376
Harris, J.R. 156, 162,366
Harris, R.A. 249,252,374
Hatch, E. 16,24
Hayes, J. 421
Heim, K. 154, 171
Heinemann, J. 192,194,195
Hermisson, H.-J. 161, 171, 423, 433
Herrmann, S. 408,421,423
Index of Authors
Hestrin, R. 26,35
Heym, S. 408,421
Hieke,T. 369
Hoftijzer, J. 26, 29, 32, 35, 123, 124, 127
H0genhaven, J. 430, 431,433
Holladay, C.R. 254,262
Holloway,P. 352-55,357
Hornby, N. 173
Horovitz, H.S. 365,375
Hossfeld, F.-L. 452, 455, 459
Houlden,J.L. 105, 106
Houston, W.J. 229, 238, 239
Houtman,C. 331,343
Humfrey, P. 394,400
Humphreys, W.L. 120
Hurlbut,J.L. 306,307,318
Hurowitz, V.A. 164, 171
Hurvitz, A. 369,375
Hvidberg,F. 72,74,92
Irwin, W.H. 70,74
Janowski, B. 379, 389, 456, 459
Janssen, J.J. 331, 343
Janssen,R.M. 331,343
Janzen,W. 426,433
Japhet, S. 25, 35, 241-46, 249, 250, 252
Jeffers,A. 26,33,35
Jellinek,A. 241,252
Jenni, E. 24
Jensen, J. 423,433
Johnson, A. 93
Johnston, R.J. 404,421
Jones, D. 221,222,227
Jones, G.H. 56,62
Jongeling, K. 26, 29, 32, 35, 123, 124,
127
Joukowsky, M.S. 413,422
Jung,C.G. 128-32, 140
Kaiser, O. 426, 428, 430, 433
Kaiser, W.C., Jr. 59,62
Kappler, W. 205,215
Kasher,R. 184, 192, 195
Kassel,R. 353,357
Kaufman, S.A. 26,34
Keel, O. 282, 283, 288, 447, 448
Keller, C. 133, 140
495
Kent, C.F. 306,307,318

Kermode, F. 411,421
Kimhi, D. 171
King,R. 407,421
Kinnier Wilson, J.V. 337, 343
Kissane, E. 279,288
Kister,M. 365,375
Kitchen, K.A. 338-40, 343
Klawans,J. 283,288
Kleitz, D.R. 312,318
Knight, D.A. 77,88
Koenen,K. 427,433
Konkel, A.H. 53,62
Kooij, A. van der 331, 343
Koopmans, J.J. 26, 30, 36
Korpel, M.C.A. 333, 340, 344
Kovacs,B.W. 237,239
Krasovec,J. 263,274
Kratz, R.G. 380,389
Kraus, H.-J. 208, 215, 279, 281-86, 288
Krispenz,J. 154, 171
Kugel,J. 245,252,281
Kuschke,A. 233,234,239
LaCapra,D. 411,421
Lambert, W.G. 153, 171, 329, 344, 358,
366,375
Landow, G.P. 306,318
Landy, F. 131, 140, 151, 152
Lang, B. 292, 295, 299, 300
Langdon, S. 223,227
Lattes, D. 369,375
Lattimore, R. 352, 353, 358
Launderville, D. 203
Leeuwen, C. van 239
Lemaire, A. 27,30,36
Lemche,N.P. 10, 12
Le Roy Ladurie, E. 410,421
Levenson,J.D. 82, 88
Levey, S.H. 192, 195
Levi, C. 414,421
Levine, E. 195
Levine, S. 307,318
Levy,L. 370,375
Levy, I.E. 413,421
Lewis, A.S. 156, 162,366
Lewis, T.J. 70,74
Lichtheim, M. 153, 171, 366, 375
496
Lidzbarski, M. 26, 27, 30, 36

Lieberman, S. 93
Lim,T.H. 5, 12
Limet, H. 337,344
Lindblom, J. 92
Lindenberger, J.M. 365, 375
Lipihski, E. 26, 33, 36, 66, 74
Lockshin, M.L. 241,247,252
Lohfink,N. 283,286,289,321,328
Long,B.O. 301,318
Loprieno, A. 337, 344
Loretz,O. 331,333,344
Lowth, R. 71,74
Luckenbill, D.D. 337, 344
Luther, M. 266,273,274
Luzzatto, S.D. 369,375
Magonet, J. 399,400
Malamat, A. 331,344
Manning, C.E. 352,358
Mapu, A. 392
Maraqten, M. 31,36
Marbock,J. 365,375
Marcus, D. 114, 120,332,344
Marks, R.G. 193, 195
Marsman, H.J. 331,344
Marti, K. 71,74
Mason, L., Jr. 307,318
Mason, R. 25,36
Mathieu, B. 156, 170
Mattingly, G. 352,410,421
Mayes,A.D.H. 14,24,95, 106
Mazor, Y. 281,282,285,289
McCarter, P.K. 408,421
McConachie, B.A. 312,318
McKane, W. 54, 62, 364, 375
McLean, N. 93
McNutt,P. 104, 106
Meier, S.A. 53,62
Melammed, E.Z. 250,252
Melendy,M.R. 314,318
Merdler, R. 250,252
Micheel, R. 25,36
Mieder, W. 153, 171
Milano, A. 390, 393, 397, 400
Miles,!. 129, 131, 139, 140
Milik,J.T. 254-60,262
Millard, A.R. 26, 36, 67, 74
Millard,M. 458,459
Miller, J.M. 421
Miller, P.O. 81, 82, 84, 88, 281, 289, 320
328
Milton, J. 219-21,227
Mitchell, H.G. 17,24
Mitchell, S. 308,318,319
Moor, J.C. de 332-34, 336, 337, 339, 340
344
Moore, S.D. 302, 318, 405, 421
Moran, W.L. 331,344
Morris, P. 110, 120
Morrison, M.A. 307,319
Mosala,I.J. 229,239
Motyer, J.A. 54,61
Mowinckel, S. 93
Muller,H.-P. 121-23, 125, 127, 150, 152
Munro,J. 146, 147, 151, 152
Muraoka, T. 15,24
Murphy, R.E. 144,146,150,152,176,
177, 183,249,252,284,289
Murphy-O'Connor, J. 205, 215
Nasuti, H.P. 102, 106
Nebenzahl,K. 305,319
Nel, P.J. 364,375
Neu, E. 333,344
Nicholson, E. 77, 88
Nickelsburg, G.W.E. 254, 255, 257, 258,
260-62
Niditch, S. 164, 165, 171
Nineham, D.E. 103, 106
Nissinen, M. 67, 74
Noble, P.A. 436,448
N6ldeke,T. 32,36
Noll, M.A. 304,319
Norris, C. 279,289
Norton,?. 308,319
Noth, M. 26-29, 36, 77, 78, 83, 86, 88,
93,411,412,417,421
Novick, P. 417,418,421
Nurmela, R. 206-208,215
Nussbaum, M. I l l , 114, 120
O'Connor, K.M. 102, 105
Oded, B. 334,345
Oesterley, W.O.E. 205, 214, 367, 374
Olmo Lete, G. del 29, 36
Index of Authors
Oppenheim, A.L. 334,345
Orlinsky,H. 437,448
Oswalt, J.N. 54,61
Otto,E. 331,332,345,457,458,459
Parker, S.B. 26,36
Parpola, S. 334,339,345
Peake, A.S. 95, 106
Pearson, B.W.R. 195
Pedersen,J. 22-24,93
Peels, H.G.L. 427,433
Penna, A. 54,61
Perdue, L. 132,140
Person, R.F., Jr. 52,62
Pfeiffer, R.H. 93
Pham,X.H.T. 349,358
Phillips, G.A. 277,288
Piccirillo, M. 306,319
Pippin,!. 302,317
Pleins, D. 203
Pleins,J.D. 232,233,239
Podella,T. 279,283,289
Pognon,H. 26,30-32,36
Pope,M. 348,358
Porteous,N. 91,93,94
Porter, B.N. 115, 120
Posener,G. 155, 157, 171
Prato,G.L. 365,375
Puech,E. 260,262
Quack, J.F. 153, 171
Quesnell, Q. 86,88
Rabin, LA. 365
Rad, G. von 77-83, 88, 93, 94, 364, 375
Ramlot, L. 27,37
Ramsey, G.W. 206,215
Ravasi, G. 452,460
Redford, S. 330,345
Redpath,H.A. 16,24
Reicke,B. 330,345
Reiner, E. 333,334,345
Reinhold, G.G.G. 26,37
Reinhold,M. 331,345
Renaud,B. 55,56,62
Rendtorff, R. 51, 62, 76, 77, 82, 88, 362,
363
Renfroe,F. 332,345
Reymond,P. 273,274
497
Rezetko, R. 9, 12
Ringgren, H. 3, 12
Robert, A. 146,152
Robertson, D. 107,109,110,118-20
Robertson, E. 430,433
Robinson, E. 306,319
Robinson, H.W. 93
Rocco,B. 121, 123,124, 127
Rofe, A. 365, 368, 370, 371, 375
Rogerson, J.W. 99, 106, 387, 389
Rollig, W. 26, 27, 34
Rooy, H.F. van 344
Rosenzweig, F. 267,271,273
Rosin, D. 241,247,250,252
Ross, J.F. 25, 26, 28, 29, 37
Rosso Ubigli, L. 371,376
Roth.C. 390,401
Rowley, H.H. 90,91,93,206,215
Rudolph, W. 25, 28, 37, 149, 150, 152,
368, 376
Saachi,P. 371,376
Sader,H.S. 27,37
Saeb0,M. 195
Saggs,H.W.F. 335,345
Said,E. 312,319
Sakenfeld, K.D. 100, 106
Salmasius [Claude de Saumaise] 227
Salters,R.B. 241,244,245,252
Sanders, J.A. 370,376
Sanders, J.T. 366,376
Sanders,?. 337,344
Sandoz, E. 228
Sanmartin, J. 26,29,36,37
Sarna,N. 436,449
Sawyer, D. 110, 120
Sawyer, J.F.A. 390-92, 401
Schafer, P. 193, 195
Schaper,J. 206-208,215
Schlesinger, A.C. 112,120
Schmid, H.H. 77, 82, 88, 436, 449
Schmidt, B.B. 70,74
Schmuttermayr, G. 452,460
Schniedewind, W.M. 55,62
Scholz, S. 436,449
Schottroff, W. 331,345
Scoralik,R. 154, 171
Seebass,H. 436,449
498
Seeligmann, I.L. 64, 74, 373, 376

Segal, M.H. 366,377
Segert, S. 31,37
Segovia, F.F. 406,421
Seidel,P. 171
Seow, C.L. 168, 169, 171
Seybold,K. 279,281,282,284,289
Sharkansky, I. 204
Shupak,N. 166, 167,171
Simian-Yofre, H. 348, 358
Skehan, P.W. 122, 127
Smalley, B. 93
Smith, A. 414,421
Smith, A.L. 156, 162,366,374
Smith, E. 306,319
Smith, M.S. 452,460
Smith, S. 345
Smith, W.R. 69,74
Smith-Rosenberg, C. 314,319
Sneed,M. 231,237,240
Spangenberg, I.J. 369, 376
Spencer, J.R. 207,215
Sperber, D. 365,376
Stager, L.E. 66, 74, 286, 289
Stansell,G. 425,433
Stark, J.K. 32,37
Steck, O.H. 65, 74, 455, 460
Steingrimmsson, S.O. 454, 460
Stendebach, F.J. 69,74
Stemberg, M. 436,449
Steudel, J.C.F. 385,389
Stol,M. 331,345
Stordalen, T. 66,72,75
Stork, L. 337, 345
Strack,H.L. 187, 188, 195
Strother, D.H. 307,319
Strugnell,J. 365,376
Stulman, L. 102, 105
Suys, E. 161, 171
Sweeney, J.G. 308,319
Sweeney, M.A. 425,433
Talshir,Z. 8,9,12
Taylor, C. 388,389
Taylor, P.J. 404,421
Thomas, J.D. 210,215
Thompson, E.P. 415,421
Thompson, J.A. 29,37
Thureau-Dangin, F. 338, 346

Tigay,J.H. 332,346
Tigchelaar, E.J.C. 122, 127, 256, 262
Toorn, K. van der 329, 331, 334, 346
Torczyner, 91
Torrey, C.C. 64,75
Tournay, R. 146, 152
Travers Herford, R. 365, 376
Trebolle Barrera, J. 5-7,12
Trible, P. 134, 135, 140, 323-25, 328
Trimmer, S. 216,221,225,226,228
Tropper, J. 330,346
Tsevat, M. 130, 140
Turner, B.S. 403,422
Tweed, T.A. 277,289
Uehlinger, C. 447, 448, 454, 460
Uffenheimer, B. 37
Van Leeuwen, R. 154,171,233
VanSeters, J. 76,88
VanderKam, J.C. 254-62
Vaux, R. de 68, 69, 75
Velde, H. te 337, 346
Vermeylen, J. 7, 12, 65, 75, 426, 429,
430, 433
Vickers, B. 115, 116, 120
Vleeming, S.P. 331,345
Vollmer,J. 426,433
Volz, P. 65, 70, 75
Wallace, H.N. 72,75
Walsh, C.E. 137, 140
Walzer, M. 204
Wanke, G. 458,460
Ward, W.A. 413,422
Watanabe,K. 339,345
Watson, W.G.E. 245,252
Watts, J.D. W. 54,61
Watts, M.J. 404,421
Weeks, B.C. 311,319
Weinberg, A.K. 319
Weinberg, J.P. 454,460
Weinfeld, M. 368,376
Weiser, A. 284,289
Weiss, R. 368
Weitzman, S. 172
Welker, M. 326,328
Index oj Authors
Wellhausen, J. 206,215
Westenholz, J.G. 337, 346
Westermann, C. 24, 161, 172, 230, 231,
240, 369, 376, 425, 427, 433
Wevers,J.W. 368,376
Whedbee, J.W. 112,120,130,133,140
White, H. 410,422
Whitelam, K.W. 98,106,410,412,413,
420, 422
Whybray, R.N. 77,78,81,89,230,231,
240
Widengren, G. 92
Wiesel,E. 363
Wildberger, H. 424, 425, 428, 429, 434
Willi,T. 29,37
Williamson, H.G.M. 1, 12, 423, 434
Willis, J.T. 424,430,434
Wise,M.O. 205,215
Wiseman, D.J. 66, 75, 339, 346
499
Wolde, E.J. van 437, 449

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J. Cheryl Exum, H. G. M. Williamson Reading From Right To Left Essays On The Hebrew Bible in Honour of David J. A. Clines JSOT Supplement 2003 PDF

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JOURNAL FOR THE STUDY OF THE OLD TESTAMENT

Sheffield Academic Press

Reading from Right

Journal for the Study of the Old Testament

Copyright 2003 T & T Clark International

Printed on acid-free paper in Great Britain by Antony Rowe Ltd, Chippenham

WHAT WAS A BIBLICAL PROPHET? WHY DOES IT MATTER?

THE PROPHET ODED AND THE ZAKKUR INSCRIPTION: A CASE OF

THE UNITY OF THE BOOK OF ISAIAH: ANOTHER ATTEMPT AT

THE ONE IN THE MIDDLE

THEME REVISITED: BREADAGAIN! 76

A TRIBUTE TO THE BOOK LIST OF SOTS

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THE PEOPLE OR THE BOOK

TRAGEDY AND ETHICS : REVISITING ATHENS AND JERUSALEM

A PHRASE IN A PHOENICIAN PAPYRUS AND A PROBLEM IN

SONG OF SONGS AS AN 'ANSWER' TO CLINES'S BOOK OF JOB

Tamara Cohn Eskenazi

'THE VOICE OF MY LOVER': DOUBLE VOICE AND POETIC ILLUSION

WISDOM AND THE SELF-PRESENTATION OF WISDOM LITERATURE

So WHAT MIGHT THE SONG OF SONGS Do TO THEM?

THE EPHRAIMITE MESSIAH AND THE TARGUM(S) TO

THE PUZZLING POLITICS OF ANCIENT ISRAEL

WERE THE PRE-MACCABEAN HIGH PRIESTS 'ZADOKITES ' ?

'LAWLESS RIOT AND INTESTINE DIVISION': JUDGES 19-21 AND

THE ROLE OF THE POOR IN PROVERBS

INSIGHTS ON JOB 3, FROM A MEDIEVAL COMMENTARY:

WHICH PARTS OF 1 ENOCH WERE KNOWN TO JUBILEES!

GOD's RIGHTEOUSNESS IN THE ORIGINAL AND IN TRANSLATIONS

FROM DAVID TO DAVID: PSALM 24 AND DAVID CLINES

TWELVE COMMANDMENTSTHREE STAGES: A NEW THEORY

HOLY PERSUASION: THE BIBLE AS ADVERTISING

MAN AND WOMAN: TOWARD A THEOLOGICAL ANTHROPOLOGY

THE REBEL IN BIBLE LANDS

'THE CONSOLATIONS OF GOD': ASSESSING JOB'S FRIENDS ACROSS

NADAB AND ABIHU

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MEASURABLE AND IMMEASURABLE: THEMES IN OLD TESTAMENT

ISAIAH AND THE JEWS: SOME REFLECTIONS ON THE CHURCH'S USE

John F.A. Sawyer

INTERESTED PARTIES: HISTORY AND IDEOLOGY AT THE END

JUDGMENT AND HOPE IN ISAIAH 1.21 -26

LOVE AND HATRED IN A MULTIRACIAL SOCIETY: THE DINAH AND

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both as part of the 'intellectual biography' of the Department of Biblical

1998; see especially pp. 20, 26-27, 33-35, 42-43, 56-62.

On the Way to the Postmodern, xvi.

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his book Interested Parties (1995), questions about the motivations of

Study, as a member of various committees, as Secretary in 1978-82 and as

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Acta antiqua Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae

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Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages

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Traduction cecumenique de la Bible

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Michael V. Fox, Halls-Bascom Professor of Hebrew, University of Wisconsin

Carol A. Newsom, Professor of Old Testament/Hebrew Bible, Emory University

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WHAT WAS A BIBLICAL PROPHET? WHY DOES IT MATTER?

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AULD What Was a Biblical Prophet?