Ahab Agonistes: The Rise and Fall of the Omri Dynasty (Library of Hebrew Bible - Old Testament Studies)

LIBRARY OF HEBREW BIBLE / OLD TESTAMENT STUDIES

421 Formerly the Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement series

Editors Claudia V. Camp, Texas Christian University Andrew Mein, Westcott House, Cambridge Founding Editors David J. A. Clines, Philip R. Davies and David M. Gunn Editorial Board Richard J. Coggins, Alan Cooper, John Goldingay, Robert P. Gordon, Norman K. Gottwald, Gina Hens-Piazza, John Jarick, Andrew D. H. Mayes, Carol Meyers, Patrick D. Miller, Yvonne Sherwood

EUROPEAN SEMINAR IN HISTORICAL METHODOLOGY

6 Editor Lester L. Grabbe

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AHAB AGONISTES The Rise and Fall of the Omri Dynasty

EDITED BY

LESTER L. GRABBE

t & t dark

Published by T&T Clark A Continuum imprint The Tower Building, 11 York Road, London SE1 7NX 80 Maiden Lane, Suite 704, New York, NY 10038 www.tandtclark.com 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. Copyright © Lester L. Grabbe and contributors, 2007 British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN-10: 0-567-04540-4 (hardback) ISBN-13: 978-0-567-04540-9 (hardback)

Typeset by Free Range Book Design & Production Limited Printed on acid-free paper in Great Britain by Biddies Ltd, King's Lynn, Norfolk

CONTENTS List of Contributors

vii Parti Introduction

Lester L. Grabbe INTRODUCTION

3

Part II Articles Hans M. Barstad CAN PROPHETIC TEXTS BE DATED? AMOS 1-2 AS AN EXAMPLE

21

Ehud Ben Zvi THE HOUSE OF OMRI/AHAB IN CHRONICLES

41

Lester L. Grabbe THE KINGDOM OF ISRAEL FROM OMRI TO THE FALL OF SAMARIA: IF WE HAD ONLY THE BIBLE ...

54

Ernst Axel Knauf WAS OMRIDE ISRAEL A SOVEREIGN STATE?

100

Ingo Kottsieper THE TEL DAN INSCRIPTION (KAI310) AND THE POLITICAL RELATIONS BETWEEN ARAM-DAMASCUS AND ISRAEL IN THE FIRST HALF OF THE FIRST MILLENNIUM BCE

104

Andre Lemaire THE MESHA STELE AND THE OMRI DYNASTY

135

Nadav Na'aman ROYAL INSCRIPTION VERSUS PROPHETIC STORY: MESHA'S REBELLION ACCORDING TO BIBLICAL AND MOABITE HISTORIOGRAPHY

145

vi

Contents

Hermann Michael Niemann

ROYAL SAMARIA - CAPITAL OR RESIDENCE? OR: THE FOUNDATION OF THE CITY OF SAMARIA BY SARGON II

184

Dagmar Pruin

WHAT Is IN A TEXT? - SEARCHING FOR JEZEBEL

208

Thomas L. Thompson

A TESTIMONY OF THE GOOD KING: READING THE MESHA STELE

236

David Ussishkin

SAMARIA, JEZREEL AND MEGIDDO: ROYAL CENTRES OF OMRI AND AHAB

293

David A. Warburton

THE ARCHITECTURE OF ISRAELITE TEMPLES

310

Part III Conclusions Lester L. Grabbe

REFLECTIONS ON THE DISCUSSION Index of References Index of Authors

331 343 349

LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS Hans M. Barstad is Professor of Hebrew and Old Testament Studies at the University of Edinburgh. Ehud Ben Zvi is Professor of History and Religious Studies at the University of Alberta. Lester L. Grabbe is Professor of Hebrew Bible and Early Judaism at the University of Hull. Ernst Axel Knauf is Professor of Hebrew Bible and Biblical Archaeology at the University of Bern. Ingo Kottsieper is Privatdozent for Old Testament at the Wilhelms-Universitat of Miinster and working as a Semitist on the Qumran-Worterbuch research project of the Academy of Science at Gottingen. Andre Lemaire is Professor of Hebrew and Aramaic Philology and Epigraphy at the Ecole Pratique des Hautes Etudes, Paris. Nadav Na'aman is Professor of Biblical History in the Department of Jewish History at the University of Tel Aviv. Hermann Michael Niemann is Professor of Old Testament and Biblical Archaeology at the University of Rostock. Dagmar Pruin holds a post-doctoral research and teaching position in Old Testament Studies at the Humboldt-University of Berlin. Thomas L. Thompson is Professor of Theology at the University of Copenhagen. David Ussishkin is Emeritus Professor of Archaeology at the University of Tel Aviv. David A. Warburton is Research Fellow at the University of Aarhus.

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Part I INTRODUCTION

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INTRODUCTION Lester L. Grabbe

The European Seminar on Methodology in Israel's History (European Seminar in Historical Methodology or ESHM for short) had its sixth meeting in Rome in 2001, on the topic of the rise and fall of the Omride dynasty. Although there was a good discussion, several members could not attend and others had to leave early. This being a significant topic, it was important to gain a range of papers on the topic from a variety of viewpoints. Therefore, in addition to contributions by Seminar members others were invited, but this all took time. The result was that the volume based on the next year's discussion (Berlin 2002) was ready first and was consequently published earlier (Grabbe 2005). There has been no particular order of publication, however, and I hope readers will feel that the extra time taken to acquire the contributions in this volume was worth the wait. This volume represents a further stage in the debate about writing the history of ancient Israel, Judah, and Syro-Palestine. The ultimate purpose was to address questions of historical methodology, as my concluding 'Reflections on the Discussion' draws out. Nevertheless, this volume covers some of the main areas of the field, including a survey of the main sources and issues (Grabbe), the archaeology (Ussishkin on some major sites; Warburton, on an architectural feature; Grabbe, with a survey), some major inscriptions (on Tell Dan, Kottsieper; on the Mesha stela, Lemaire, Na'aman, and Thompson); questions of dating (Barstad), textual representation (Ben Zvi, Pruin, Thompson), and questions of historical reconstruction (Grabbe, Knauf, Kottsieper, Na'aman, Niemann, Pruin). It is hoped that anyone reading this volume will gain an up-to-date picture of the sources, issues, and debates on the central period in the history of Israel and Judah.

1. An Interpretation of the Omride and Jehu Dynasties: Mario Liverani's Otre la Bibbia One of the most recent histories of Israel is also one of the most interesting. This is Otre la Bibbia (Beyond the Bible] by Mario Liverani, who is better known as a scholar of the ancient Near East.1 His work on other Near Eastern 1. This summary was originally prepared on the basis of the Italian edition of the book. An English translation has now been produced (Liverani 2005). The first page number refers to the Italian version, and the number following the slash to the English translation.

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peoples, history, and literature has put him in a unique position to give an interpretation of the history of Israel and Judah. A notable feature of Liverani's book is its distinction between 'normal' history and 'invented' history, but he applies this only to earlier periods of Israelite history. By the time he reaches the 'divided monarchy' he writes only about 'normal' history, that is, history as critically reconstructed by the historian from the available sources. Liverani makes use of all sources - not only inscriptions and archaeology but also the biblical text - but he does so critically, much as he would the history of any other people in the ancient Near East. The period of the Omri and Jehu dynasties, and the parallel history in Judah, covers about forty pages or approximately 20 per cent of his section on 'normal history', a reasonable allocation of space to this important period.2 He begins by noting the big picture: the prosperity and growth of Israel under the 30 years of rule by Omri and Ahab was not an isolated event but fitted well into the larger context of the Levant. The main contribution of Omri was the new capital at Samaria which was not just a simple royal residence but a true administrative centre of the kingdom. Under Omri and Ahab Israel experienced a notable growth in economics and culture. Unlike a number of historians, Liverani accepts that (a) there was a king named Ben-Hadad II, (b) Ahab defeated him at Aphek, and (c) Ahab died fighting the Aramaeans over Ramoth-Gilead. He sees a regional rivalry between Samaria and Damascus which concentrated on Ramoth-Gilead as a key link in the Transjordanian caravan trade. But they united against a common enemy, the Assyrians. The Tel Dan inscription agrees largely with 2 Kgs 8.28-29 but adds new elements. Jehu began his reign as a vassal of Hazael of Damascus who was the Syrian opponent of Shalmaneser III. For 60 years (c. 845-785 BCE) Damascus exercised control over a great part of Syria-Palestine, and Israel and Judah should be seen in the role of vassal kingdoms. Hazael's interventions can be catalogued in the archaeology of the cities of northern Israel in the second half of the ninth century. After the Israel of the house of Omri - censured for Baal worship by the prophets and later historiographers but politically strong and culturally flourishing - came the house of Jehu - lauded as Yahwistic but politically subordinate and territorially reduced to a minimum (p. 130/116). In the ancient Orient, two modes of ascertaining the situation were open to rulers: one was to consult advisors; the other, to seek divine advice. The biblical text was more and more negative toward traditional divination, which meant that more emphasis was placed on consulting prophets. These were consulted on the great problems of the moment. The prophetic activity had immense political power. The first prophetic book - Amos - combines two aspects, the religious and the social, denouncing non-Yahwistic cults at Samaria but also excess luxury at the court. In Samaria and all Israel religious pluralism dominated (p. 134/119). There were many divinities, though the later Deuteronomistic revision reduced them 2. The period from the beginning of Omri's reign until the fall of Samaria, or about 885 to 720 BCE, is covered on pp. 121-63.

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to a choice between the popular and national God Yhwh and the foreign god of the court Baal. Ahab constructed a temple of Baal in Samaria, but there were the famous shrines of Yhwh not only in Dan and Bethel but also in Shiloh. The Samaria papyri have nine Yahwistic names as opposed to six with Baal. The account in the books of Kings is not interested in furnishing information on the administration and economy, but the Samarian ostraca provide first-hand data (p. 140/125). They attest to estates around Samaria that provided wine and oil directly to the royal palace. Along with fine tableware known from archaeology, they are witness to a good level of prosperity. The populist denunciations of Amos regarded this as excessive luxury that was accompanied by fiscal oppression, commercial fraud, and the perversion of justice. This polemic arose out of the incompatibility of a palace fiscal system and an economy of peasants and shepherds not accustomed to sustaining a grand royal palace, nor prepared to confront a new rapacious commercialism which was antithetical to the traditional solidarity of lineages and villages. The occasional reference to cannibalism in times of siege (e.g., 2 Kgs 6.28-29) is symbolic of a juridical 'cannibalism' that allows children to be sold to provide the necessities. These social tensions mark a period that archaeological data demonstrate was a developing economy and settlement, culminating in the long prosperous reign of Jeroboam II. But the growth of resources did not translate into general benefit by equal distribution but led to a class of rich, with the families of smallholders reduced to servitude. The prophets of the period railed against the injustices on which Yhwh would inflict punishment. Turning to Judah (p. 143/128), the list of Rehoboam's fortresses probably belongs to the time of Hezekiah (2 Chron. 11.5-12). Rehoboam paid off Sheshonq from the temple treasury as he moved north, showing that the temple was regarded as an extension of the royal palace. The war against Israel continued under Abijam (913-911) and Asa (911-870), until the latter called on the military intervention of Ben-Hadad I, king of Damascus. BenHadad devasted the land of Dan and Naphtali, without interfering with the imbalance of relations between Israel and Judah, a sort of vassalage. This is indicated by a number of examples in which the king of Judah provided aid to the king of Israel. With the death of Ahaziah (by Jehu), Athaliah took control. While the Northern Kingdom came under the domination of Hazael of Damascus, the Southern Kingdom entered a grave phase of instability. The 'House of David', to which later tradition attributed great glory and a continuous dynasty over many centuries, in reality lived through a century of subservience (to Egypt, then Israel, then Damascus), loss of its modest wealth, and culmination in a blood bath. The succession of Joash to the throne after the interregnum of Athalia (841-835 BCE) has a number of stereotypical features: the old orient sequence of usurpation (damage>concealment>revenge), a child guided by the benevolent hand of the priest Jehoiada, with Athaliah condemned as a foreigner and Joash acclaimed by the 'people of the land' - and the years of

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rule of 7 (Athaliah) and 40 (Joash). The 'people of the land' could legitimately intervene only in the case of a new king. When Hazael of Damascus attacked Gath in Philistia, Joash averted a similar fate by paying him off. Joash was subsequently himself assassinated by his own officials, and his son Amaziah reigned (796-781 BCE). He defeated the Edomites but was himself defeated at Beth-Shemesh when he attacked Jehoash of Israel. Amaziah was also assassinated, and the 'people of the land' once again intervened and put his young son Azariah on the throne (781-740: 2 Kgs 14.21; 15.1-6). (Azariah was once identified with the Azriyau in the texts of Tiglath-pileser III, but this person is now known to be a ruler from the Hamath region.) Because of a disease of the feet Azariah was confined to a 'private house', while his son Jotham reigned in his place (740-736). During the latter's reign, Israel strongly oppressed Judah. It was also in the eighth century that an inscription was written in Kuntillet 'Ajrud that speaks of the 'Yahweh of Teman' (the ancient name of Kuntillet 'Ajrud) and 'Yahweh of Samaria'. At the end of the reign of Jotham and during the reign of Ahaz (736-716) Rezin of Damascus and Pekah of Israel invaded Judah. Ahaz sent treasures from the temple to pay Tiglath-pileser III to intervene on his behalf. The gradual growth of Judah in the tenth to eighth centuries was not unusual but fitted the broader context of new states in Palestine and Transjordan (p. 148/133). The region of the Ammonites was no doubt the most stable. An Ammonite kingdom existed in Iron II. Characteristic 'towers' are found outside the capital Amman and second-level cities of Jawa, Sahab, and 'Umayri. The territorial history of Moab is relatively well known. The socio-political situation in which the process of political unification was completed by the middle of the ninth century is indicated by the Mesha stela, as well as excavations. The ninth-century war between Israel and Moab was probably the origin of the story of Sihon 'the Amorite king' in Deut. 2.2637. The references to Edom in the biblical accounts of Saul and Solomon are most likely anachronistic. A king of Edom seems to have existed by about 845 BCE, with a modest settled population about 800, followed by developments during the eighth and seventh centuries. Edom maintained its position through a couple of centuries because of its control of the outlet to the Red Sea, Tell el-Kheleifeh. Assyria was also interested in Edom because of its strategic and commercial position. In the tenth century Jerusalem was small, in a sparsely inhabited territory (p. 151/136); a modest development took place in the ninth and eighth centuries, with the population of Judah in the eighth century about 110,000, half of these in the Shephelah. The Yahwism of the reigning house does not imply the existence of a single religion for the state: much of the population seems to have worshipped in cults relating to agrarian fertility. But the prophets attested for Judah are all Yahwistic, suggesting a 'Yhwh alone' movement. Yahwism seems stronger in the south because of (a) the temple of Yhwh and (b) the probable southern origin of Yhwh. There is also the important inscription at Kuntillet 'Ajrud. But in the period between the beginning of the ninth and the end of the eighth centuries, Israel and Judah are part of a

GRABBE Introduction

7

common religious and political ideology that stretched across all the Levant states. The existence of multiple deities was accepted, but one deity presided over the nation and the royal dynasty. The long period of independence enjoyed by the Levantine states, beginning about 1150 BCE with the decline of the Hittites in the north and the Egyptians in the south, came to an end in the middle of the eighth century through the work of the Assyrians (p. 159/143). The first phase of Assyrian intervention began in the middle of the ninth with Ashurnasirpal II and Shalmaneser III. Then a century later Tiglath-pileser III took northern Syria and Damascus, confronting Israel directly. The Galilee and Gilead were easily taken, and Hoshea was reduced to ruling as an Assyrian vassal over Ephraim and Manasseh. A promise of Egyptian support led Hoshea to rebel, and Shalmaneser V to intervene. He died during the siege, and Sargon II was left to take the city (stratum VI of Samaria, with stratum VII being the Assyrian city).

2. Summaries of Contributions As Hans M. Barstad ('Can Prophetic Texts Be Dated? Amos 1-2 as an Example') notes, a heated debate has developed around the dating and historical reconstruction of texts. He aims to discuss Amos 1-2 as a specific example, ignoring the redactional layers. He wants to get away from the 'locked' scholarly positions about the dating of particular passages and to avoid the often circular arguments that arise from a historical-environmental approach, social-scientific considerations, and the use of the superscriptions of books. Linguistic criteria are currently widely accepted, but most arguments are not decisive. For example, the view that writers attempting to compose in an earlier phase of the language would always give themselves away does not stand up. Part of the reason is that we know too little about the relationship between the scribal language and the scribe's contemporary linguistic environment. The frequent use of poetic language is another obstacle since it is often 'timeless'. A recent study by M. Ehrensvard accepts that Early Biblical Hebrew can be distinguished from Late Biblical Hebrew (though they are very similar), yet he points out that no clear LBH features are found in texts such as Isaiah 40—66, Joel, Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi. Coming back specifically to Amos 1-2 , texts may contain hints about at least their relative date. The Oracles Against the Nations (OAN) place most prophetic books in a pre-exilic context (as already argued). By the time the prophetic literature was edited, wars with the surrounding nations had come to an end. There are a number of problems with dating Amos 1, but the reference to Hazael (died 805) and Ben-Hadad (presumably a successor) puts the chapter between 806 and 732, a remarkably precise dating for a piece of literature. In coalitions, symbolic participation was clearly important (e.g. in the coalition against Shalmaneser). The study considers the collapse of the alliance under Hazael and surveys the activities of Adad-nirari III

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(810-783) and Shalmaneser IV (782-773). The events under these kings fits the geographical and historical horizon of Amos 1-2 (Assyrian seems to have been weak in the period 824 to 745 BCE), but the history of Damascus is too fragmentary to be of any help in dating the Ben-Hadad of Amos 1.4. The references in Amos 6.2 fit the information we have in Amos 1-2, as well as the historical situation given earlier. This allows us to put the most likely date of Amos 1-2 in the reign of Adad-nirari III, or about 805-763 BCE. To conclude, the best starting point for establishing a historical context of Amos 1-2 is the genre (OAN). The situation reflects the relationship between the Assyrian and Aramaeans in the ninth-eighth centuries and the many different political and military coalitions. Thus, there is little hesitation in using the information found in Amos 1-2 as a source for the reconstruction of the history of ancient Samaria. An aspect of the biblical story of the Omrides is tackled by Ehud Ben Zvi in 'The House of Omri/Ahab in Chronicles'. A picture of the 'House of Ahab' clearly emerges (Omri figures only as the father of Athaliah) from the book. This House is a paradigmatic case of a sinful royal house in the book, just as in Kings. But in Chronicles it is also a House whose very existence is a trap to the Davidic House that leads it to sin and ruination. The House of Ahab is construed as one that exerted some irrational attraction for Davides, even among the best of them (see, the extreme case of Jehoshaphat). Since, within the discourse of the book, the Davidic kings were never supposed to become allies or partners of the northern kingdom, the very existence of the House of Ahab brought incommensurable danger to the House of David. From a more general perspective, the House of Ahab serves as a quasi-mythical symbol of the potentially fatal allure of evildoers for true followers of Yhwh. The image of the House of Ahab, and Ahab himself, in Chronicles should not be used to 'correct' their image in Kings. The study shows how images of the past may diverge not only from their original sources but also from other memories of the past that were accepted in the same society. These considerations also raise questions about historical reconstructions (and approaches) which assume that elements of the past remain changeless if they are incidental or of 'historical' rather than theological or ideological import. There is a core of content common to both Kings and Chronicles, suggesting a core of historical memory that resists malleability; however, the lack of malleability in the composition of Chronicles does not mean that the same lack of malleability was present in the composition of, for example, Kings or the sources used by the compiler of Kings. The fact that a particular item about the past was included in a core of data shared by the community does not necessarily point to a high level of historicity. Lester Grabbe (The Kingdom of Israel from Omri to the Fall of Samaria: If We Had Only the Bible . . .') concentrates on the narrative picture in Kings from the reign of Omri to the fall of Samaria. The central question is, what could modern historians glean from this biblical picture if they had no other sources? That is, we want to test the reliability of the biblical material by means of the relative abundance of extra-biblical sources here, with the wider

GRABBE Introduction

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aim of forming an opinion of what might or might not be reliable in those biblical texts for which we have few or no extra-biblical sources. A good portion of the article is taken up with surveying the extra-biblical texts and then comparing them with the biblical narrative. A number of conclusions arise: the biblical text does have some remarkable agreements with the extrabiblical data, especially in the names, order, and approximate date of kings, as well as of some specific episodes. This shows that the writer/compiler (whenever that person worked) had some good source(s) available (a temple or court chronicle?). Alongside this are some glaring errors or omissions. One good example of an error is the alleged weakness of Ahab in comparison with the Aramaeans of Damascus. A major omission is the first hundred years of Neo-Assyrian activity in the west: the biblical text first mentions the Assyrians in connection with Tiglath-pileser III, more than a century after Shalmaneser Ill's invasion in his sixth year. Extrapolating from this, it seems that the names and approximate dates of rulers are likely to be reliable in the biblical narrative, as are major events relating to the interaction with other nations. But it would still always be the historian's job to make a critical judgment based on the merits of the individual case. Axel Knauf asks the question, 'Was Omride Israel a Sovereign State?' His answer is that ancient Israel never really was, being a vassal under the Philistines, then under the Egyptians, then under the Assyrians, then under Damascus, and finally back under the Assyrians. A number of factors show that the Egyptians still exercised overlordship of a sort with regard to Canaan until the ninth century. Shoshenq had a series of campaigns, not just a single one, and these are recorded on his monument. Israelite architects used the Egyptian cubit rather than the Syrian. Shoshenq's cartouche appears on Israelite and Judaean seals in the ninth and eighth centuries. But then Israel passed to the Assyrians under Shalmaneser III, then to Damascus for a time under Hazael, before reverting to the Assyrians. Even as in today's world independence for small states was an illusion. Ingo Kottsieper investigates 'The Tel Dan Inscription (KAI 310) and the Political Relations between Aram-Damascus and Israel in the First Half of the First Millennium BCE'. He accepts most of the readings of Biran and Naveh in the original publication of the Tel Dan inscription, including the phrase bytdwd as 'house of David'. The question of how the fragments join is more problematic, but the reconstruction proposed by Biran and Naveh can be accepted as highly probable. He interprets the beginning of the inscription as referring to a treaty, however, and supports this reading with detailed philological notes. The father (and apparently the grandfather) of the king who commissioned the inscription - identified as Hazael - had made a treaty with Israel. But in the uncertain period after the death of the Aramaean king, Joram of Israel invaded the eastern region of Damascene territory. The writer of the inscription (Hazael) was thus justified in attacking Joram and killing him and also Ahaziah the king of Judah, which is why he set up the inscription: to show he was righting the injustices of a broken treaty. The biblical text is wrong that Hazael was a usurper who assassinated his predecessor (as shown by the

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Assyrian and Tel Dan inscriptions), but he was not the son of his predecessor (who was Hadadezer). 1 Kgs 20.34 indeed mentions such a treaty between Ahab and Hadadezer. 1 Kings 20 is today often assigned to the reign of Joash, but the arguments are not decisive. Ahab may well have had clashes with the Aramaeans at the beginning of his reign, but then he concluded a treaty with Hadadezer and later allied with him against the Assyrians. As for the deaths of Joram and Ahaziah, Joram attacked Hazael at Ramoth-Gilead and was defeated and wounded. Ahaziah did not take part in the battle but only visited Joram. Hazael's claim that he killed both kings cannot be dismissed, since the purpose of the inscription was to explain why. So why would the biblical texts have Jehu do it? The simplest solution is that Jehu was acting under Hazael's orders, which makes a plot by Jehu against Joram historically plausible. This would also explain why Hazael later fought against Jehu, whom he saw as simply a rebellious subordinate. What about the story that a disciple of Elisha anointed Jehu king? The prophetic opposition to the Israelite monarchy may have had connections with the Damascus court, and their support of Jehu is plausible. The alliance between Jehu and Hazael did not last (because Jehu saw himself as a legitimate king of Israel, not just as Hazael's puppet), and Hazael conquered Dan, setting up the inscription that justified his actions. Andre Lemaire ('The Mesha Stele and the Omri Dynasty') writes on the Mesha stela, a subject on which he has already published extensively, but this time the focus is on the Omride dynasty. He notes that the date of the Moabite stone is not as secure as some have thought, with dates ranging between 850 and 820 BCE. He disagrees with Thomas Thompson that it is 'a fictive story' (with reference to Thompson 2000) but argues that it is a commemorative/ memorial royal inscription written late in Mesha's reign. It shows knowledge of Israel's being in a disastrous state, which came about under Jehoahaz son of Jehu, which would put it about 810 BCE. One should not expect many historical details of events 30 to 70 years old. The 30-year reign of Mesha's father is likely a round number (1. 1), but it was probably during his reign that Moab became a vassal of Israel (11. 4-5). Since Omri reigned solely only about seven years, it was probably early in his reign that he 'oppressed' Moab. Mesha does not mention Ahab by name, perhaps by a kind of damnatio memoriae or because he did not change the situation created by his father. Thus, Mesha probably became king before Ahab's death. When Mesha says that he looked on the downfall of 'his house', he is probably referring to Ahab's house, not the Omri dynasty. It was Jehu who brought down 'Ahab's house' in 841 BCE. A difficulty of interpretation is found in 1. 7 with reference to h$y, generally translated 'half the days of his son. Some, however, have argued for a meaning such as 'number, amount, total'. Two interpretations might explain the '40 years': (1) if hsy means the 'amount' of the days of his sons, the duration of the Omride dynasty would be about 40 years; (2) if hsy means 'half and ymy 'my days', 40 years might still be possible since we do not know exactly when Mesha began reigning nor when the stela was erected; that is, the Israelite occupation of Madaba could have been about 20 years before Mesha began his reign and about 20 years as half of Mesha's reign.

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Regardless, it seems to mean that Israel controlled the land of Madaba until the end of the Oniride dynasty. The Israelite army would have retreated from east of the Jordan only after about 838/837 BCE, which means that Mesha's retaking of territory probably happened during Jehu's reign. When one turns to the Bible, the situation in 2 Kings 3 of a joint military expedition by the kings of Israel and Judah against Moab has been compared with the Moabite stone, but this specific expedition is not alluded to in the Mesha stela. Why the silence? The explanation is simple: this war was disastrous for Moab and already about 40 years old. When the stela was set up, it was more convenient to focus on magnificent buildings. Thus, the Mesha stela contains some very interesting information about the Omri dynasty, but it offers the interpretation of an enemy, not an objective perspective. It was written to the greater glory of Mesha and Kemosh, just as the Deuteronomistic history was written to the greater glory of Yhwh. Both recorded some important events of the Omri dynasty and were silent about others. Nadav Na'aman ('Royal Inscription versus Prophetic Story: Mesha's Rebellion according to Biblical and Moabite Historiography') also examines the Moabite inscription and its relationship to the biblical text. After a translation of the inscription (with extensive notes), the structure, genre, and ideological message are considered. It is identified as a commemorative inscription marking the founding of a temple, built by Mesha. Combining elements of dedication and commemoration, it is designed to extol and record the king's achievements. Some elements differ from other royal inscriptions of this genre because Moab did not have an established tradition of royal inscriptions. Mesha gives a theological explanation of why Omri conquered his country: Chemosh was angry with his people. So Mesha was only restoring what was Moab's initially, except for the conquest of some additional territory which he was commanded to take by Chemosh. The inscription and other sources make it clear that Gad was not an Israelite tribe (as the Bible presents it) but a local tribe that ended up being split between Israel and Moab. The figures of 'thirty' and 'forty' seem to be round numbers. Although various explanations can be given, they would best be regarded as literary-ideological numerical representations. Contrary to Lemaire, who has dated the inscription to about 810 BCE (see above) because of the reference to Israel's weakness, the Mesha stela shows a situation in which Moab did not yet possess certain territory that it later acquired (as various biblical passages show). This means that Moab continued expanding after the dedication of the stela and that the statement, 'Israel perished utterly forever', is a hyperbole rather than a description of Israel at its lowest state. The inscription was probably composed late in Mesha's reign, but this would have been during Jehu's kingship (c. 841-813 BCE). The second part of the article focuses on 2 Kings 3 and the invasion of Moab by the kings of Israel, Judah, and Edom. This is actually a 'prophetic story' because it is centred on Elisha's prophecy and fulfilment. A number of points argue against the suggestion that the story originally contained anonymous characters ('prophet', 'king of Israel', etc.) to which names were later added. It was a story composed as a single unit by

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a single author, a story about Elisha but placed during the reign of Joram and inserted into the Elijah-Elisha cycle of stories. Yet Elisha was not active until the reign of Jehu, by common scholarly consent. 2 Kings 3 shows a number of remarkable parallels with 1 Kings 22. In both, Jehoshaphat of Judah plays a prominent role as an ally of Israel but is viewed favourably, contrary to the king of Israel. The two stories (1 Kings 22 and 2 Kings 3) could have joined onto one another and were only subsequently split by the compiler of the Deuteronomistic history. This suggests a composition in Jerusalem by a late Judahite author (probably not long before the Deuteronomistic history) who knew the Elijah-Elisha cycle. 2 Kings 3 has five anachronisms in it (e.g., Kir-hareseth as Mesha's seat; the description of Aram as an enemy of Israel in the time of Joram; the institution of monarchy in Edom). The story was thus written long after the events described, and its author knew little of the realities in the time of the Omrides and had built a story around a small historical core with the purpose of depicting fulfilled prophecy by a man of God and upholding the king of Judah. There are a few historical kernels within the story: (1) Moab's rebellion against Israel after Ahab's death, (2) the attempt of Joram, son of Ahab, to put down the rebellion in alliance with Judah, and (3) the failure of their joint venture. A number of biblical stories attributed to the pre-monarchic or early monarchic period were probably written in the eighth-seventh centuries BCE and reflect th time of their composition, as shown especially by their references to Moabite boundaries and territory: the Ehud story (Judges 3.12-30), the Balaam story (Numbers 22-24), David's battles against Moab (2 Sam. 8.2). It is unlikely that a consolidated Moabite kingdom existed in the period conventionally assigned to David's reign. Hermann Michael Niemann already partially gives his conclusion away in the title, 'Royal Samaria - Capital or Residence? or: The Foundation of the City of Samaria by Sargon IF, but his proposal is more complicated than this implies. He argues that David was only a tribal chief, while Solomon functioned much as the lord of a Canaanite city. It was Jeroboam I who consolidated the tradition of mountain rulers in the Northern Kingdom, but Israel never managed to fuse the various tribal and cultural elements into a unity. The kingdom's state structures began with Omri (and Judah's with Uzziah), but no network of civil servants was established over the whole country. Instead, the Omrides laid the foundations of a military administration, though Jezreel, Beth-Shean, and some sites in Galilee veered between independence, attachment to Israel, or attachment to AramDamascus. Under the Jehu dynasty Aram regained this area until the time of Jehoash and Jeroboam II. Thus, the rule of the Northern Kingdom developed differently from the picture often presented: the king was mainly a mobile war leader with a power network but few administrative functionaries, while strong tribal structures remained. There were a few specialized centres with differentiated functions (trade, cult, defence), but these formed only a loose network of (mainly military) sites, primarily on the borders. Samaria was the only royal foundation in the heartland (though the traditional cultic sites

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13

of Dan and Bethel received royal support). Samaria was definitely founded by Omri. It was a clever choice which allowed a break from such tribal centres as Shechem, Penuel, and Tirzah. As the royal residence it was not the capital city. It remained an unfortified place (or hill) with a fortified palace on top of it. The layout was similar to Jezreel (the military headquarters of the Omrides) but smaller. A few residential houses may have existed on the east side but it was not a residential city. The relatively open character of the palace compound indicates intense contact with the surrounding tribal elites and reflects the nature of Israelite kings as mobile mountain rulers and war leaders. The Samaria ostraca document attempts by Jehoash and Jeroboam II to integrate these tribal links into their personal power network. It was the practice to have elite members of the clans reside as 'honoured guests' in Samaria for shorter or longer periods of time, stabilizing political links between the Samarian war lords and the surrounding clans. Wine and oil were sent from their local constituents to the clan members residing in Samaria, and the ostraca are to be explained as receipts for these goods. The tribal organization and the frequent revolutions in the second half of the eighth century meant that the Samaria war lords did not develop further state structures, and their residence Samaria did not become an urban centre for Israel as a whole. This underdeveloped administration remained until the end of the Northern Kingdom. The alleged three-year siege of Samaria by the Assyrians is a theological construction by the Bible which conflated all the events between 724 and 720/719 BCE. Historically, Shalmaneser V simply arrested Hoshea but was then occupied on other fronts until his death in 722 BCE. Three years later the next Assyrian ruler Sargon II turned the dynastic residence into a city and provincial capital for the Samarian hill country, alongside the more important centre of Megiddo (stratum III) for the Jezreel Valley. Dagmar Pruin ('What Is in a Text? - Searching for Jezebel') builds on her doctoral study (Pruin 2005) to ask about the literary and historical Jezebel. In recent work Jezebel has receded more and more into the background because of critical questions about the dating, redaction, and historicity of texts. Any study has to focus on the biblical text because that is almost all we have. Is the figure of Jezebel only a literary one? The remarkable coincidence between the names and the activities of the protagonists has suggested as much to some. Yet the surface of Baal worship by Ahab and Jezebel is contradicted by details in the text, suggesting a more complex development of tradition. A traditio-historical analysis of the text yields several results: the coup of Jehu (in 2 Kgs 9-10) is the oldest kernel of the narrative and can be dated to the beginning of the Jehu dynasty (mid-ninth century BCE). This includes the oracle of doom against Ahab in 2 Kgs 9.26a. The old narrative fragment in 1 Kgs 18 that makes Elijah a rainmaker can also be dated to the time of Ahab. The Naboth's vineyard episode (1 Kgs 21) would be dated to the eighth and seventh centuries BCE. The Dtr composition links Naboth's vineyard wit the coup of Jehu by the system of announcement and fulfilment structures: the gruesome actions of Jehu are justified by the injustices of the king and

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queen. Ahab's repentance (1 Kgs 21.27-29) is tied in with the eighth- and seventh-century depiction of Elijah as a classical prophet of judgment. The story of the annihilation of the Baal cult was added as another step. Jezebel now became the seducer of her husband to the worship of foreign gods. Elijah is transformed by the post-Dtr editors into a champion of monotheism and Jezebel, with her 400 prophets of Baal and Asherah, his chief opponent. She now has great power and can act independently of her husband. The successive layers of redaction have transformed Jezebel and also changed the emphasis of the story. There is some dispute about the meaning of the name 'Jezebel', but '(Baal) has carried' seems the most likely. Epigraphic evidence and textual features indicate that names such as 'Jezebel' and 'Elijah' are not just symbolic literary features but the names of actual people. Some have read the Tel Dan inscription as showing that Jehu did not kill Jehoram and Ahaziah, which might cast doubt on his execution of Jezebel. But the inscription can be read differently; in any case, it is not necessarily superior to the biblical text in which the literary account of Jehu's actions has an early date. The argument that Jezebel has gained characteristics because she was identified as holding the office of 'Gebirah' does not hold up, because the evidence of such an office is not very substantial. The biblical picture that she maintained prophets of Baal and Asherah is a literary device to support her as an opponent of Elijah. But, in summary, Jezebel probably was a Phoenician princess (even if some of the arguments for this position do not stand up) who married the king of the rising Israelite dynasty. Her importance meant that a description of her death seems to have survived. But it was later developments of the tradition that made her responsible for leading the Omri dynasty along the wrong paths, acting independently of her husband, and persecuting the prophets (including Elijah). A few contours of the historical Jezebel thus survive, but it is the literary figure that is remembered by later tradition and biblical readers. Thomas Thompson's 'A Testimony of the Good King: Reading the Mesha Stele' is in part a response to Lester Grabbe (see above) and others (such as Gosta Ahlstrom), but focuses on the Mesha inscription like several other essays. Before the Mesha stela can be used for history, its literary nature needs to be analysed. It is compared with 20 other inscriptions from Mesopotamia, Asia Minor, and Syria. Based on previous studies the author isolates 15 thematic functions that permeate the contents of these and many other inscriptions (including such themes as statement of legitimation, recognition of divine participation as a primary cause, building temples or cities, blessing, curse, prayer). Each inscription is analysed and these thematic functions catalogued for each one. Then the exercise is repeated in reverse: each thematic function is looked at, and its presence in each inscription (including the Moabite inscription) catalogued. Finally, some 'tentative conclusions' are drawn with regard to the historicity of the Mesha stela. Motifs such as royal names and chronological data have the literary function of creating plausibility, which every narrative needs to maintain its role in the world of fiction, but plausibility is not a useful criterion for historicity. Biblical and extra-biblical texts are being read with the assumption of historicity and within a context of

GRABBE Introduction

15

possible historical scenarios. This is to neglect the context each text offers its story. Grabbe has mentioned the three categories of royal names, chronology and the order of royal succession. When we consider a figure like Balaam (known from Numbers 22-24 and the Deir 'Alia inscription), it is clear that the royal names of the central characters require confirmation before we can use them with confidence for historical reconstruction. The historicity of many of our royal heroes cannot be affirmed on the basis of their stories but only from their confirmation from other texts. With regard to chronology, nearly every reference to a number in our texts and every text's internal chronology can be understood to be thematically coded, often with reference to the transcendent. The texts invoke a fullness of time determined by the gods. The question of dynastic succession is a problem because successors are often designated as 'sons'. Royal succession cannot be depended on when such texts are our only evidence. What texts such as the Mesha stela offer is evidence for the rich literary constructs in early antiquity. They give us access to the Bible's literary and intellectual inheritance. For example, the Mesha story reflects the technique of building chain-narratives that has a counterpart in biblical texts such as 2 Kgs 3.4-27. David Ussishkin ('Samaria, Jezreel and Megiddo: Royal Centres of Omri and Ahab') gives the first part of his article over to a summary of the three sites and the excavations there. This leads to the following historical reconstruction: The Omride compounds at both Samaria and Jezreel resemble each other in many ways, showing a common time and cause of origin. The style of construction at Megiddo is similar to Samaria and Jezreel, but there are significant differences of character and overall plan. Thus, the Megiddo stratum VA-TVB settlement and the Omride compounds were apparently not contemporary, though not much time separated them. Megiddo VA-IVB was an administrative centre but had no city wall. It was captured, though almost certainly not destroyed, by Sheshonq I c. 925 BCE. When Omri came to the throne not long after this, he built Samaria as a capital of his kingdom, but he also needed a military centre. Since Megiddo was not suitable, Jezreel was built to house troops and especially war horses and chariots, though a royal residence was apparently also constructed (possibly the central building). In the later part of the ninth century Jezreel and Megiddo VA-IVB were apparently destroyed by Hazael and the Aramaeans. Jezreel was abandoned as a military site, but Megiddo was rebuilt as a fortified military centre (stratum IVA, making use of stone from VA-IVB), with a strong city wall and massive gate, extensive water system, two large complexes of stables, and a huge silo for horse fodder. David A. Warburton discusses 'The Architecture of Israelite Temples'. No temples have been identified for Early Iron Age Palestine, while for the later period only Tel Dan and Arad have yielded such edifices. Perhaps, however, the problem is not one of discovery but identification. This article focuses on the tripartite buildings. These buildings existed in the ninth-eighth centuries (some possibly in the tenth, though the author argues that none was as early as the tenth century nor was any constructed or used in the

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Ahab Agonistes

seventh). They are linked temporally and geographically to the Northern Kingdom (e.g., none occurs at Lachish or Tell en-Nisbe, though they are found in Beersheba). They had two rows of pillars, marking a central hall and two aisles. The pillars were more square than round, about 60-80 cm in diameter. The buildings are assumed to have been in basilica form and occur in prominent positions at major centres and often in groups. They have been variously identified (e.g., as stables), but they occur uniformly from Hazor to Beersheba, which suggests a specific function (but it is more likely to be ideological than functional). Their quality is virtually unknown elsewhere in Palestine. G. Barkay suggested that the buildings originated in the monumental structures of Megiddo IVB-VA (conventionally dated to the tenth century), but this has substantial problems: since the tripartite pillared building is the single most significant architectural form from the early Northern Kingdom, what earlier building is postulated? Either the tripartite building is the earliest form or it mirrors an earlier building with the same structure. At Beersheba it is argued that the buildings were used as storerooms because of hundreds of pottery vessels. They were indeed used as storerooms but only when the temple had ceased to be used as a temple, which means that there is no evidence that they were built as storerooms. The tripartite building formed the central part of the city in the ninth and eighth centuries. The Proto-Aeolic or Proto-Ionic capitals add the impression of elegance and planning as representative architecture. This shows fundamental weaknesses with the idea that they were built to be stables or storerooms: (1) the form stresses the central hall; (2) there is no evidence of bays; (3) light would fall on the central hall, not aisles; (4) the uniformity suggests that the role is social and ideological. The basilica form was probably not borrowed from the Romans but seems to have originated at an early time in the ancient Near East. The central feature of the early Christian church is its tripartite structure, generally without vaults; also the al-Aqse mosque and early synagogues. The basic form of the temple in Iron Age Israel was a simple tripartite 'pillared' building in basilica form. Variant forms of this - religious buildings with outer walls within which are a row of pillars - then formed later synagogues and mosques. It can be concluded that the tripartite pillared building was mainly restricted to the Northern Kingdom and not used in Judah after the destruction of Israel. Its prominence in cities demands an ideological role: they bear an uncanny resemblance to early Christian basilicas, which are in turn remarkably close to early synaoguges but also to South Arabian temples and to Mithraeums. Early Christian basilicas did not ordinarily have vaults, meaning there is no reason to link them to Roman or (hypothetical) Hellenistic counterparts. No other prototype is as close as the Israelite buildings, which can be traced back to the basilical forms of Egyptian temples and tripartite structures of ancient Mesopotamia. The existence of several buildings in parallel suggest a polytheistic view. At least one building must have survived to be picked up later as a place of common worship. It is difficult to argue that any of the accounts in the biblical text are based on the personal observation of

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17

the scribe. The textual traditions had a negative effect on the capacity of architects to judge finds objectively. Otherwise, they would never have identified the tripartite building as anything but a temple.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Grabbe, Lester L. 2005 Good Kings and Bad King$[: The Kingdom of Judah in the Seventh Century] (LHBOT 393 = European Seminar in Historical Methodology 5: London/New York: T & T Clark International, 2005). Liverani, Mario 2003 Oltre la Bibbia: Storia antica di Israele (Storia e Societa; Rome: Editor! Laterza). 2005 Israel's History and the History of Israel (Bible World; transl. Chiara Peri and Philip R. Davies; London: Equinox). Pruin, Dagmar 2006 Geschichten und Geschichte: Isebel als literarische und historische Gestalt (OBO 222; Freiburg: Universitats Verlag; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht). Thompson, Thomas L. 2000 'Problems of Genre and Historicity with Palestine's Inscriptions', in Andre Lemaire and Magne Saeb0 (eds), Congress Volume: Oslo 1998 (VTSup 80; Leiden: Brill), 321-6.

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Part II ARTICLES

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CAN PROPHETIC TEXTS BE DATED? AMOS 1-2 As AN EXAMPLE Hans M. Barstad 1. Background My point of departure is recent discussions concerning the dating of the texts of the Hebrew Bible. As we know, parts of this debate can hardly be branded a role model for scholarly dialogue. Rather, we have been witnessing an increasingly heated behaviour, characterized by a reciprocated throwing of catchphrases, exchange of strong invectives, and ad hominetn argumentation, much of it unworthy of academic conduct. However, since dating of texts in the Hebrew Bible is important to everyone engaged in biblical research, we cannot leave it at that. Obviously, this matter becomes even more crucial when we want to use the biblical texts as historical sources for the reconstruction of ancient Israelite or ancient Near Eastern history. In my view, the time has now come for a renewed debate, based on sounder, methodological principles. In the present context, I shall deal with dating problems from the point of view of Amos 1-2. This means that I shall not take into consideration the relationship between Amos 1-2 and the rest of the Book of Amos, nor discuss problems concerning redaction layers. 2. The Secondary Literature on Amos I consider the problem in question to be a historical one. We shall, consequently, have to work out some criteria for how to reach historical certainty in a positivistic way. The tricky part is where to start our discussion. Clearly, the literature on Amos is already vast. It would, however, in my view, be methodologically wrong to go to the current commentaries or other scholarly works on Amos, and seek out the arguments used for dating, in order to discuss their validity. More often that not, this would, once again, involve the engagement in debates 'for' or 'against' already locked scholarly positions, and would not help us to get rid of the dead heat. Moreover, commentaries, we should remember, useful as they may sometimes be, represent a very particular genre of their own, and tend to be even more 'tarnished' by scholarly tradition than other kinds of scholarly literature. This point is particularly relevant in the case of Amos 1-2 where we have long strife about the authenticity of many of the oracles against the foreign nations. What is more in need in the present context is really a fresh approach.

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Ahab Agonistes 3. Texts of the Hebrew Bible Outside of Amos

In this attempt to find out the historical setting of Amos 1-2, I shall, as far as possible, also avoid using other texts from the Hebrew Bible beyond Amos. Again, this is not because I believe that such texts are without any comparative or historical value. The way I see it, the Hebrew Bible represents the most important historical source for the history of Iron Age Palestine and Syria. However, since the point of this paper is to attempt to date a biblical text, we shall have to avoid every kind of circular argument. Only when the date of our text, Amos 1-2, is firmly fixed with the help of extrinsic sources, we may turn to other biblical texts in order to see what light they may throw upon our problems. However, we should not start with the biblical texts.

4. Historical and Social Environment Still another line that should not be used as a starting point, is what we may call 'the historical environment approach'. This also includes archaeology and other auxiliary disciplines. The weakness of this approach is that one tends to reconstruct ancient Israelite society - in this case that of eighth century Amos - on the basis of the biblical texts of Amos. As we see, the dating is here also, as a rule, given a priori. Moreover, there is a fair amount of circular argumentation involved in such an enterprise. First, one reconstructs ancient Israelite society with the help of the biblical texts. This 'reconstructed' society is then used to throw light upon the biblical texts. 5. Social Science Methods The use of social scientific models on ancient societies has been criticized by Carroll (Carroll 1989). Carroll pointed out that ancient Israel is long gone, and no longer available to us. Many social scientists would in fact agree with Carroll's critique of the use of 'historical' sociology or 'historical' anthropology. Obviously, one should not claim that there are no insights to be gained from the social sciences. My point here is only that one should take great methodological care. Also, we should realize that recent developments within historiography and history theory have underlined even more the problematic sides to former beliefs that we are actually able to reconstruct ancient Israelite society (Barstad 1997). 6. Superscriptions Much traditional dating, of course, is based on the introductory colophons of prophetic books. Even if we do not have to subscribe wholly to the views

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of Robert Carroll, we should realize that he did indeed have a point when claiming that: 'In penning these prefaces to the biblical anthologies the writers helped to invent the ancient prophets as biographical figures' (Carroll 1988: 25). Since they do represent later additions to the texts, we cannot accept these superscriptions at face value. On the other hand, we cannot deny beforehand that some of them (or all of them) may contain important historical information. This, however, is something that has to be decided individually for each prophetic book. Again, we cannot start a discussion on dating from the dates provided by the superscriptions.

7. Arguing from Language The foremost proponent among the scholars who have argued that we can classify biblical texts as 'early' or 'late' (Ezra, Nehemiah, and other Persian period writers, as well as early Hellenistic/Roman authors) according to language criteria is Hurvitz. Building also on scholars before him (e.g. Greenfield, Naveh, Rabin, Schuller), Hurvitz has published an impressive series of important works on how to date texts on linguistic grounds. According to Hurvitz (and probably also concurring with much contemporary scholarship) it would not be possible for post-exilic writers to publish their works in Early/Classical/Standard biblical Hebrew without giving away their late biblical Hebrew background (Hurvitz 2000: 154). For this reason, according to Hurvitz, even if the scribes that wrote late biblical compositions like Ezra, Nehemiah, and Esther, or non-biblical works, like Ben Sira, the Temple Scroll, and Ps. 151, intended to write classical Hebrew, they could not hide entirely the impact on their writing from the Hebrew of the Persian and Hellenistic periods (Hurvitz 2000: 156-7). Even if I have sympathy for Hurvitz's views, I do not believe that we can base our dating principles on the claim that scribes are unable to write in another language without giving away their own linguistic background. Obviously, a genius like the native Polish writer Joseph Conrad represents an exception. There are many examples, though, that people may learn a language well enough to write it quite fluently. This point is also made by Ehrensvard in his recent critique of Hurvitz (Ehrensvard 2002: 44 n. 161). A further problem when dating from linguistic grounds is that the texts that we have available may have been written much earlier and later reworked. The use of language as a dating criterion, however, is problematic also for other reasons. The way the ancient scribes produced literature does not easily compare to 'ordinary' language usage. In point of fact, our knowledge of the relationship between scribal language (whether in temples, palaces, or elsewhere) and contemporary language practice is unsatisfactory, to say the least. In Qumran, for instance, the natural language should have been Greek or Aramaic. Why did the scribes of the Qumran scrollery use Hebrew as their main language? Apparently, Hebrew was regarded as an important cultural identity mark. A scholar like Weitzman concludes that the Qumran

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society's use of Hebrew in Greek- and Aramaic-speaking Hellenistic-Roman Palestine '... would have been one way in which it affirmed its identity as a transcendent community, a symbolic gesture of its eternally valid status in a world of competing ideologies and languages' (Weitzman 1999: 45). As we know, the Qumran society also produced biblical (and a few other) texts in palaeo-Hebrew script. Again, this particular feature appears to be without any value as a dating criterion. As Ulrich notes: 'In sum, except for their script, the palaeo-Hebrew biblical manuscripts from Qumran Cave 4 do not appear to form a group distinguishable from the other biblical scrolls in either physical features, date, orthography, or textual character' (Ulrich 1999: 147). An extreme language example is known from Parthian Babylon, where Sumerian continued to be used as late as the first century BCE. Sumerian, in fact, was badly understood throughout the whole of the first millennium BCE. It had long been replaced by Akkadian, that had later been replaced by Aramaic, that had later been replaced by Greek. Nevertheless, scribes 're-published' 2000-year-old cultic hymns and used them for theological purposes! (Beaulieu 1992: 47). Furthermore, when dating based on language is discussed, another obstacle must also be considered. It is sometimes forgotten that prophetic language is poetic language. This important detail certainly does not make the dating of texts easier. Abounding in fixed vocabulary and compositional stereotypes, and filled with repetitions and metaphors, poetic expressions may easily fit into various periods and different situations. It is certainly no coincidence that certain parts of the Hebrew Psalter belong to the most popular devotional texts not only of the Middle Ages, but also of the twentieth century. As 'poetry', such texts are felt as 'timeless', adoptable to a multitude of different spiritual, cultural, and historical situations. In addition to my arguments above, the young Danish scholar Martin Ehrensvard has recently argued against Hurvitz and the possibility of dating our texts linguistically from quite another perspective. Ehrensvard does not deny that there are consistent linguistic variations in two different bodies of biblical books, Genesis to Kings on the one hand and Esther, Daniel, Ezra, Nehemiah, Chronicles, etc. on the other. These two types of Biblical Hebrew are very similar, but not impossible to differentiate. Early Biblical Hebrew (EBH) represents an earlier stage of the language than Late Biblical Hebrew (LBH). Ehrensvard's point is that texts like Isaiah 40-66, Joel, Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi, rather than being close to EBH, are actually written in EBH. Ehrensvard argues both that EBH in fact has LBH features, sometimes very clearly, and that no clear LBH traits are found in the biblical books mentioned above. He also claims that the limited number of LBH features that scholars have pointed to in Isaiah 40-66, Joel, Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi, 'can at best only tentatively be ascribed to LBH' (Ehrensvard 2002:54).

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8. Words Against the Nations If we want to ask whether or not Amos 1-2 originally belonged within a postexilic or a pre-exilic era, we shall have to start our investigation by taking a closer look at the very contents of these chapters. Despite the several difficulties concerning poetic language that I have referred to above, we are not completely lost. There are, fortuitously, quite a few texts that give away historical circumstances. Every so often, our poetry is 'poetry with a purpose'. Only when we have ascertained what kind of historically relevant information we are dealing with, can we decide which is the more likely period for this kind of literature to have originated. In my view there is one overwhelming factor that places most prophetic books firmly within a preexilic context, namely the words against the nations (Barstad 2002). We find edited collections of oracles against the nations in many prophetic books. In the major prophets we may think above all of Isa. 13-23, Jer. 46-51, Ezek. 25-32. In the Book of the Twelve, Amos 1.1-2.3 is commonly referred to. We should remember, though, that it can easily be argued that texts like Hosea, Obadiah, Jonah, and Nahum consist almost exclusively of 'oracles against the nations'. Even if the particular phenomenon of 'oracles against the nations' has indeed caught the attention of the scholarly eye, it has not been fully appreciated as a heuristic means for placing prophetic literature in a preexilic, historical setting. The original place in life of words against the nations was, most likely, that of war. All wars in the ancient Near East were 'holy' wars (Oded 1991). It is not unreasonable to assume that perhaps the most important form of prophetic activity in Iron Age Palestine concerned the enemy in war (Barstad 2002). At the time of the final editing of the prophetic texts, however, wars with the Egyptians, the Assyrians, the Babylonians and with other surrounding nations had come to an end. The major part of the oracles of doom in Amos are directed towards Samaria (Amos 2.6-9.10). Before these, however, we find a series of words against foreign nations. In addition to the main reference to Damascus, we find references to the Philistine cities of Gaza, Ashdod, Ashkelon, and Ekron. Among the Philistine cities, Gath is not referred to (see below under Amos 6.2). We also find words of doom against Tyre (as the only Phoenician city). Finally, we find words of doom against the Transjordan states Edom (and Bozrah and Teman), Ammon (and Kabbah), and Moab (and Kerioth). Finally, there is the word against Judah and Jerusalem. One might have thought that, with so many different countries involved, we must be dealing with a late redaction or with a later collection of different prophetic words, uttered at various occasions. This, however, is not at all a necessary assumption. It is not even likely. It was typical of wars in the ancient Near East that several city states made alliances (see below). We must also assume that the historical situation that we are dealing with concerns an important incident that took place during a fairly short period of time.

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This is characteristic of ancient Near Eastern prophecy in general. In Mari, too, prophecies appeared during short periods of time, and as a reaction to some major international political crisis. In this way, Mari prophetic texts are important documents for the reconstruction not only of prophecy as a religious institution, but also of major contemporary historical events (Durand 1988: 399-401). Even more relevant in the present case, are the Neo-Assyrian prophecies. For instance, one of the most interesting collections of Neo-Assyrian prophecies reflects words that were all delivered during the year 681 BCE when Esarhaddon fought for the throne against his elde brothers after one of them had murdered his father (Barstad 2002: 95). 9. Dating Amos I The main words of doom in our text, Amos 1.3-5, are directed against Damascus, and against Aram and Damascus. We read in w. 4-5 (RSV): 'So I will send a fire upon the House of Hazael (bbyt hz'l), and it shall devour the strongholds of Ben-hadad (bn-hdd). I will break the bar of Damascus, and cut off the inhabitants from the valley of Aven, and him that holds the sceptre from Beth-eden (mbyt fdn); and the people of Syria ('m-'rm) shall go into exile to Kir (qyrh), says the Lord'. No solution, apparently, has been found for the place name Kir (cf. also Amos 9.7). Lipifiski has a very learned discussion on the topic, mentioning several possibilities (Lipiriski 2000: 40-5). We do not know what is meant by the inhabitants of 'the valley of Aven'. I do believe, though, that the reference is to an actual toponym, and I do not favour the explanation that we here have a disparaging form of a name, meaning something like 'Valley of Evil'. That the reference is to a name is supported also by the Septuagint, reading 'Valley of On'. Bit-Adini was a well known Aramaic kingdom with the capital Til-Barsip (Dion 1997: 86-98; Ikeda 1999; Lipinski 2000: 163-93). Having pacified the whole area across the Euphrates during previous campaigns, Shalmaneser HI (858-824 BCE) set up a number of administrative centres in the area. These were later to be known as the important province of Bit-Adini. The city of Til-Barsip was renamed Kar Shalmaneser (according to Assyrian custom). Whether the reference in Amos is to this particular Bit-Adini is difficult to say. Not all scholars have agreed that this is the case, and Millard has opposed it (Millard 1993). Archaeological evidence has made it clear that the Assyrian field marshal Shamshi-ilu (see below) at some point sojourned at Til-Barsip (Dornemann 1997: 210). If the Beth-eden of Amos should refer to the same place, this would imply that Bit-Adini was now free of the Assyrians, and in alliance with Damascus. Given the weakness of Assyria, this is possible. If this should be the case, the 'sceptre holder' of Beth-eden cannot be a reference to Shamshi-ilu as some commentators have claimed. Another option would be that the ruler of BitAdini lived in exile, and wanted to get back to his home city state. We do not, however, have sources that support any of these views. The Septuagint, on the

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other hand, has a problematic, different understanding of the reference to 'him that holds the sceptre from Beth-eden', and renders the passage in the following way: ' ... and will cut in pieces a tribe out of the men of Haran'. As we see, there are many problems in our text. However, one important starting point is 'The house of Hazael'. This king, who ruled Damascus from 842 to 805 BCE, is relatively well known (see below). I should say, straightaway, that the use of exact years throughout this paper is based on convention, and does not imply that I believe that we can always state dates with such accuracy. The Babylonian custom of counting the first, incomplete regnal year as 'accession year' complicates our attempts at dating. This method for dating was still in use during the Neo-Babylonian and Achaemenid periods, and even later (Boiy 2002). The most important aspect of dating, in my view, is the attempt to place events chronologically in relation to each other, not to find the exact dates for the events according to the Gregorian or Julian or other calendars. When biblical texts are used as a source, problems are equally complex. Dating difficulties in relation to the later part of the eighth century are notorious (Goldberg 1999). We do not really know the exact date for the final fall of Samaria to the Assyrians, nor which Assyrian king was responsible (Becking 1992; Younger 1999). When it comes to finding identifiable historical or geographical contexts for Amos 1-2, there are also several other uncertainties. For instance, the toponym Gilead, referred to in Amos 1.3 (with Damascus) and 1.13 (with the Ammonites) is not attested in extra-biblical texts before the annals of Tiglath-pileser III, and the two occurrences there even have to be restored (Tadmor 1994: 297; Bienkowski 2000: 44). Since there is a reference to another Aramaic king in Amos 1.4, Ben-Hadad, we must assume that, in this case at least, 'The house of Hazael' does not refer to king Hazael himself, but to a king Ben-Hadad of the dynasty founded by Hazael. This means that the text of Amos is set after 806 BCE. Since, according to common consensus, Damascus became a province in 732, we may pin doum the activity of the prophet Amos to the 73 years between 805 BCE and 732 BCE. In my view, such accuracy is in itself remarkable in ancient historiography. 10. Damascus and the Assyrians The Neo-Assyrian kings of the tenth to the eighth centuries made several campaigns to Hatti in order to secure their empire (Grayson 1982). However, we also learn from the texts how the countries that were forced to pay tribute to Assyria sometimes rebelled against their overlords. The normal procedure when one wanted to resist the Assyrians was to form alliances. Above, I emphasized how it was typical of wars in the ancient Near East that several city states would form coalitions, and how this was highly relevant for a proper understanding also of Amos 1-2. Moreover, we know that opposition to participation in alliances was considered to be a serious breach of trust

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(Na'aman 1991). The article by Na'aman is useful since it discusses several of the most important military alliances in the Neo-Assyrian context. Yet again we see how well this fits the reasons given for the various words of doom against the nations in our Amos text. In some of these, references to the breaking of coalitions appear to make up the historical background. The kingdom of Damascus is mentioned for the first time in Assyrian sources in the annals of Shalmaneser IE (858-824 BCE). Luckily, we are on relatively secure ground when it comes to relating Shalmaneser's regnal years to our calendar (Grayson 1996/2002: 5). The Aramaean king Adad-idri (Hebrew Hadadezer) heads an anti-Assyrian alliance in the famous battle at Qarqar in 853 BCE, Shalmaneser's sixth regnal year. This was an important event, and several versions of Shalmaneser's annals refer to the battle of Qarqar. For instance, we find the story of the conquest of Qarqar also on the so-called Kurkh Monolith (RIMA 3, II, A.O.I02.2 (= Grayson 1996/2002: 23-4)). Here, eleven [!] kings formed an alliance to fight the Assyrians. Among the allies were Adad-idri (Hadad-ezer) of Damascus), Irhulenu of Hamath, and Ahabbu (Ahab) of Israel. This text is of particular interest from a biblical point of view since the reference to Ahab is the first reference to a biblical person outside the Hebrew Bible (Schneider 1996: 104-5). The other allies are: Byblos, Egypt, Irqanatu, Arvad, Usanatu, Shianu, Arabia, and Ammon. We notice with interest that different allies contributed to the common undertaking with great variations. When it is said that Damascus supplied 20,000 troops, Samaria 10,000 troops, and Ammon only a hundred, this indicates clearly that considerable weight was put also on symbolic support. There is a lot of interesting information to be found on the Kurkh Monolith about the power and high military activity of Damascus in the area in the period. That Hamath provided as many as 10,000 troops for the coalition is not astonishing, in view of its interests in the area. We understand from a Neo-Assyrian epigraph, describing the battle, that Qarqar belonged to Hamath. The short text states that Shalmaneser III captured the city of Qarqar, that belonged to Urhilenu the Hamatite (RIMA 3, II, A.O.102.76 (= Grayson 1996/2002: 145)). That Ahab of Israel was equally able to provide 10,000 troops, informs us both of the military position of Samaria in this period, as well as of close ties between Damascus and Samaria in the year 853 BCE. The two city states were allies in a war against the Assyrians. This is highly relevant for our understanding of the words of doom against Damascus and Samaria at the same time in Amos. When the prophet presents words of doom against Damascus this does not imply that Samaria was at war with Damascus. Rather, the two city states were allies against the Assyrians. The other states mentioned in Amos 1-2 represent further allies. And, yet again, we should remind ourselves that not all of the kings of the coalition needed to be strong, nor to take a very active part. This is important when we consider whether this or that particular state would be relevant in a given historical situation. The particular point that the prophet makes is that the coalition referred to in

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Amos 1-2 will not be able to resist the Assyrian armies. Instead, the outcome of the venture will be a disaster. As we see, this is precisely the same task that Jeremiah performed during the siege of Jerusalem in the sixth century BC (Barstad 2002). To anyone paying attention to the history of Assyria, it is interesting to observe how an important event like the battle of Qarqar gave rise to different versions of the event. One further variant of Shalmaneser's sixthyear campaign into Hatti (853 BCE) is found on the Black Obelisk (RIMA 3, II, A.O.102.14 (= Grayson 1996/2002: 65)). Here, Shalmaneser III informs how he crossed the Euphrates, received tribute from all the kings of Hatti, and how he was attacked by an alliance of kings. Only Hadad-ezer (Adad-idri) of Damascus and Irhulenu of Hamath are mentioned by name. This again supports the view that only the most important allies could be mentioned. A similar version is found on a monumental bull inscription from Calah (RIMA 3, II, A.O.102.8 (= Grayson 1996/2002: 45)). Here, too, only the kings of Damascus and Hamath are mentioned by name. According to our sources, Shalmaneser III (858-824) also fought against Hadad-ezer in three subsequent battles, in the years 849, 848, and 845 BC (Grayson 1982: 261; Sader 1987: 247). As we may see, the world has certainly not changed! Shortly after I had written these lines, I picked up Le Monde (Friday 14 March 2003, p. 3) at my local airport, and read about how the Security Council of the UN was unable to decide how to deal with the British compromise in the struggle to avoid war in Iraq. Of the 15 members of the Council, USA, Britain, Spain, and Bulgaria were in favour of the British suggestion, China, France, Germany, Russia, and Syria were against, whereas Angola, Cameroon, Chile, Guinea, Mexico and Pakistan had not yet expressed their official view. It is likewise remarkable how, similar to the situation 2,500 years ago, also symbolic support was highly valued by the parties involved. 11. Hazael (842-805 BCE) When Shalmaneser III crossed the Euphrates again in his 18th regnal year (841 BCE), his adversary is not Hadad-ezer, but Hazael. This is the very king referred to as a dynasty founder in Amos 1.4. In a text reconstructed from two monumental bulls from Calah (RIMA 3, II, A.O.102.8 (= Grayson 1996/2002: 48)), we are informed how Shalmaneser defeated Hazael of Damascus, and how he received tribute 'from the people of Tyre (and) Sidon (and) from Jehu (laua) of the house of Omri (Humri)'. See also the duplicate text RIMA 3, II, A.O.102.12 (= Grayson 1996/2002: 60). Another version (RIMA 3, II, A.O.102.10 (= Grayson 1996/2002: 54)), refers to the event of 841 BCE in the following way: 'I received tribute from Ba'ali-manzeri of Tyre and from Jehu (lau) of the house of Omri (Humri)'. Still another, badly conserved, version of this last text is found on a smashed stone statue from Calah (RIMA 3, II, A.O.102.16 (= Grayson 1996/2002: 78)).

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We learn from the annals of the 18th year of Shalmaneser III that Hazael had replaced Hadad-ezer on the throne of Damascus. The succession, that must have taken place somewhere between 845 and 841, is, in fact, reported on a broken statue of Shalmaneser III discovered at Ashur. Here, we may read that: 'Hadad-ezer (Adad-idri) passed away (and) Haza'el, son of nobody, took the throne. He mustered his numerous troops (and) moved against me [Shalmaneser] to wage war and battle. I fought with him (and) defeated him' (RIMA 3, II, A.O.102.40 (= Grayson 1996/2002: 118)). The designation 'son of nobody' suggests probably that we are dealing with a usurper. Hazael, accordingly, is one of the better known among the ancient Near Eastern sovereigns (Pitard 1987: 145-60; Sader 1987: 247-60; Reinhold 1989: 173-9; Lemaire 1991: 91-108; Dion 1997: 191-207; Lipiriski 2000: 348-54, 376-81, 384-95). Of interest in the present context is also an epigraph on the Black Obelisk concerning the year 841 BCE. This small text describes in detail the tribute of 'Jehu (laua) of the house of Omri (Humri): silver, gold, a gold bowl, a gold tureen, gold vessels, gold pails, tin, the staffs of the king's hand, (and) spears' (RIMA 3, II, A.O.102.88 (Grayson 1996/2002: 149)). This, in fact, is the most detailed list of tribute to be found in Shalmaneser Ill's annals. We must, yet again, conclude from this that Samaria was a fairly important city state during the time of Shalmaneser III (858-824 BCE). Moreover, it appears that (at least) Damascus, Tyre, Sidon, and Samaria formed an alliance against Assyria in 841 BCE. Even if these events took place half a century or so before the time of Amos, they are very important as they give us a reliable historical picture of the international situation in Assyria. 12. The Neo-Assyrian Empire in Crisis Even if it has been known for some time, recent discoveries have brought to our attention also new evidence in support of the view that the power of Assyria was seriously threatened during the ninth and eighth centuries BC (Grayson 1999: 253-4; Kelle 2002: 649-51; Kuhrt 1995: 490-93). It was only following the accession of Tiglath-pileser III (744-727 BCE) that the empire was consolidated (Grayson 1991/2000: 71-85; Mayer 1995: 301-15), and even reached the height of its power. The period prior to Tiglath-pileser III, however, was very unstable. The kings of these perturbed times were: Shamshi-Adad V (823-811), Adad-nirari III (810-783), Shalmaneser IV (782-773), Ashur-dan III (772-755), and Ashur-nirari V (754-745). It should be mentioned, though, that it has also been claimed that instability in Syria rather facilitated the Assyrian king's intervention between Syrian city states and strengthened Assyrian power (Mazzoni 2000: 48-9). Our knowledge of the main historical issues relating to the text Amos 1-2 is suffering from a lack of corroborative extra-biblical sources. As we have just seen, the period of Shalmaneser III did leave quite a few historical

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records to posterity (Grayson 1996/2002: 7-179). Undoubtedly, these are also of great indirect relevance for the question of what kind of historical situation we are dealing with in the Amos text. However, it is a problem that the very last part of the ninth, and the first half of the eighth century, the time between Shalmaneser III (858-824 BCE) and Tiglath-pileser III (744-727 BCE), have left us relatively few written records (Grayson 1996/2002: 180-247). The one notable exception would be the period of Adad-nirari III (Grayson 1996/2002: 200-38). The lack of sources, apparently, is a result of the weakness of Assyria during the eight decades from 824 BCE to 745 BCE. 13. Adad-Nirari III (810-783 BCE) If Hazael ruled Damascus from 842 to 806 BCE, he must have been active under three Assyrian kings: Shalmaneser III (858-824), Shamshi-Adad V (823-811), and Adad-nirari III (810-783). From his royal inscriptions, we learn that Adad-nirari, too, made several campaigns into Hatti (Grayson 1982: 272-3; Grayson 1996/2002: 200-38; Weippert 1992). According to one (fragmented) text (RIMA 3, II, A.0.104.5 (= Grayson 1996/2002: 207)), this was done in order to settle the problems with kings that rebelled and failed to pay tribute. Typically, the kings of Hatti would see their chance when Assyria was weak. In another text (RIMA 3, II, A.O.104.6 (= Grayson 1996/2002: 208-9)), we have a similar situation described. This campaign is dated to the fifth regnal year of Adad-nirari, around 805. Also, not only is Hatti mentioned, but Damascus is specifically referred to! The person from whom the king receives tribute (100 talents of gold and 1,000 talents of silver) is referred to as Mari. Here, we soon meet with a problem. What is the relationship of Mari to Hazael? In still another text, Mari is expressly called 'king of Damascus' (RIMA 3, II, A.O.104.8 (= Grayson 1996/2002: 213)). In a most interesting text (known only in this version), on a broken stone slab from Calah from the reign of Adad-nirari III (810-783), the king boasts control (claiming tax and tribute) over all the western territory from the bank of the Euphrates to Hatti, Amurru, Tyre, Sidon, Humri (Samaria), Edom, and Palastu all the way to the Mediterranean (RIMA 3, II, A.O.104.8 (= Grayson 1996/2002: 213)). Adad-nirari further describes his march to Damascus, how the king of Damascus is confined to his city, and how he received a very rich tribute. Here, too, the king of Damascus is specifically referred to as Mari. Unfortunately, the text cannot be dated more precisely. This text, in my view, is remarkable since we here have exactly the same geographical horizon as the one we find in Amos 1-2. Still another text from the time of Adad-nirari III, the so-called Tell alRimah stela, also reports on a campaign to Hatti. Here, we may read how the Assyrian king received tribute from Mari of Damascus, from lu'asu (Joash) of Samaria, and from the people of Tyre and Sidon (RIMA 3, II, A.O.I04.7 (= Grayson 1996/2002: 211)).

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Also another incident, not mentioned in the Assyrian Annals (in an identifiable way), but on an Old Aramaic stela, the so-called Zakkur inscription, now in the Louvre, has been dated to around 800 BCE and, consequently, to the reign of Adad-nirari III. In this text, we may read how 'Bar-Hadad, son of Hazael, king of Aram' participated in a coalition of several city states from Anatolia and Northern Syria against king Zakkur of Hamath (Pitard 1987: 170-5; Sader 1987: 216-20; Reinhold 1989: 250-65; Dion 1997: 139-56; Lipinski 2000: 254-9, and passim). However, there are too many problems with this text. The most important thing, though, is that we here have yet another example of an alliance between several city states, similar to the ones we have seen above, and similar to the one that we find referred to in Amos 1-2. It is important to notice that when Tyre receives a word of judgment in Amos 1.9-10, the reason for this word of doom is that Tyre 'delivered up a whole people to Edom and did not remember the covenant of brotherhood (bryt 'hym}\ Apparently, Tyre and Edom had been bound by a coalition treaty, and Tyre had failed to keep the obligations. International treaties like these were, as we have seen, well known in the Assyrian-Aramaean world. Also later, under Tiglath-pileser III (744-727 BCE), Samaria, Tyre and Damascus (with other partners) formed an alliance in an unsuccessful attempt to fight off the Assyrians (Tadmor 1994: 187). 14. Shalmaneser IV (782-773 BCE) Damascus is referred to also in the annals of the Assyrian king Shalmaneser IV (782-773 BCE). Very little is known about his rule (Grayson 1982: 276-7; Grayson 1996/2002: 239). According to one text, the so-called Pazarcik stela (RIMA 3, II, A.O.105.1 (= Grayson 1996/2002: 240)), the king's field marshal, Shamshi-ilu, marched to Damascus and received tribute from Hadianu the Damascene. The Aramaean king Hadianu was unknown to the scholarly world till the deciphering of this text, and we have no information of him outside of this source (Dion 1997, 208-9). The text is interesting also because of the description of the tribute. Besides silver, gold, and copper, Shamshi-ilu takes away the king of Damascus's 'royal bed, his royal couch, his daughter with extensive dowry, the property of his palace without number ...'. We note with interest that it is the field marshal, not the king, that receives the tribute. This might suggest that it is Shamshiilu, and not Shalmaneser IV, that represents the power. This fits well into a pattern found also in a series of other texts from this period, indicating that important officials, not the king, were the real power persons (Grayson 1996/2002: 200-1). However, since the campaign was conducted in the last year of the Assyrian king's rule, 773 BCE, there may also be other reasons why Shalmaneser himself did not participate in the campaign to Hatti. Shamshi-ilu, apparently, was quite a character (Ikeda 1999: 281-90). Staying in power for more than fifty years, from the end of the ninth century to (at least) 752 BCE, he served under four Assyrian kings: Adad-nirari III,

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Shalmaneser IV, Ashur-dan III, and Ashur-nirari V. As already mentioned, some scholars have seen the reference to 'him that holds the sceptre from Betheden' in Amos 1.5 as a reference to Shamshi-ilu (Ikeda 1999: 281-6). The first to make this suggestion was Malamat (Malamat 1953). However, since Amos 1.5 contains a word of doom against Damascus and her allies, implying that they shall be conquered by the Assyrians, it is rather unlikely that the leader of the Assyrian army should be counted among the Aramaeans! Another interesting matter is that it is Damascus alone that is the object of the Assyrian campaign. No other city state of Hatti is mentioned in the texts. But then of course, the sources for the period are few and meagre. More likely is it, though, that we have here, yet again, an indication that Damascus is now a main problem in the area from an Assyrian point of view. This, again, fits very well into the situation in Amos where Damascus is the main target in the series of oracles against the foreign nations! If we are looking for the event in relation to Amos, we have no other sources (hitherto) that suit the situation better than the sack of Damascus in 773 BCE. The text of Amos 1-2 is warning the alliance that they will be overpowered by the Assyrians. On the Pazarcik stela we have evidence that the prophet judged the political situation correctly.

15. The End of Damascus The first time Damascus appears in our sources after 773 BCE is in the annals of Tiglath-pileser III (744-727 BCE). The king of Damascus, Rahianu, known from the Bible as Rezin (Pitard 1987: 181-2; Sader 1987: 250 n. 29; Lipiriski 2000: 404) is mentioned among the kings of Hatti who pay tribute to the Assyrian king in the years 743, 739 and 738 BCE. Finally, the Assyrians had had enough of the rebellious behaviour of Damascus, the last Aramaean stronghold in Hatti. Damascus and its cities were conquered and turned into Assyrian provinces (Tadmor 1994: 79-81). A part of the population was deported (Grayson 1991/2000: 77-8; Dion 1997: 215-16; Sader 1987: 250-1; Weippert 1987: 99). The king list of Damascus for our period may, according to Sader, look like the following: Hazael c. 842-805; Mari son of Hazael c. 805-800; Bar-Hadad II son of Hazael c. 800-775; Hadianu c. 775-750; Rahianu ca. 750-732 (Sader 1987: 288). Other scholars have slight variations, but on the whole, there appears to be some kind of consensus on this matter. However, we should realize that we are here on very insecure ground. Whereas some of the dates may be defended, others are purely conjectural. For instance, we have no way of knowing whether the years 775-750 for Hadianu are correct at all. We do not know when Hazael ended his reign, and we do not know when Rahianu, the last king of Damascus, started his office. We even do not know whether Hadianu was a king at all. He may have been a commanding officer acting on behalf of the king in the year 773 when the field marshal (tartanu) Shamshi-ilu came to the city to collect his tribute. To conclude, the

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history of Damascus during these years is too fragmented to be of any help when it comes to making a proper dating of the king Ben-Hadad referred to in Amos 1.4. This problem becomes even more apparent when we know that some scholars have claimed that Bar-hadad is not really a name at all, but a title for the kings of Damascus. 16. Amos 6.2 Amos 6.2. 'Pass over to Calneh, and see; and thence go to Hamath the great; then go down to Gath of the Philistines. Are they better than these kingdoms? Or is their territory greater than your territory ... .' This text is almost unanimously taken to be a later addition to Amos. This view goes back a long time and can also be found in the older commentaries. Basically, this opinion has to do with the belief that the cities referred to (Calneh, Hamath, Gath) were conquered only by Tiglath-pileser III towards the end of the eighth century BCE. Today, when we have many more texts available, as well as a much better knowledge of Neo-Assyrian history, there is absolutely no need to regard Amos 6.2 as a later addition to the text. Quite the contrary! The references in 6.2 fit not only the information that we have in Amos 1-2, but they also match the historical situation that I have outlined above. Our most problematic place name is perhaps Calneh (Amuq, Kalneh Kinalua, Kullanu, Kullani, Kunulua, Kullania, Patinu, Unqi). Even if it is possible to find candidates for this toponym (Paul 1991: 201-2; Tadmor 1994: 58-9; Dion 1997: 113 n. 3), I do not feel that we have enough evidence to be able to say which particular locality hides itself behind Hebrew klnh in Amos 6.2. My only consolation is that LXX is in the same situation. The Greek translators read klkm, 'all', instead of klnh. The role of Hamath is easier to comprehend. In the periods of the NeoAssyrian empire, city states rebelled again and again, were subdued, and eventually, not a few of them became provinces. The same goes for Hamath, whose last rebellion against Assyria was under Sargon in 720 BCE (Dion 1997: 169). For this reason, one cannot, as some scholars do, point to the annexation of the '19 districts of Hamath' by Tiglath-pileser III in 738 BCE (Tadmor 1994: 63) as absolutely relevant to Amos. Both from Amos 1-2 (the non-mention of Hamath), and from Amos 6.2, where Hamath is referred to as a 'good bad example', do we get the impression that Hamath in our text has suffered. As for the relationship of Hamath to Assyria before Amos, it appears that Shalmaneser III (858-824 BCE) did not manage to get the full control over Hamath that he would like posterity to believe (Grayson 1982: 261-2; Dion 1995: 150). The most important historical event to us is that it appears that Hamath became a province under Adad-nirari III (Grayson 1982: 273). It makes good sense, consequently, when Amos 6.2 refers to the destiny of Hamath as an example of what may happen to the inhabitants of the city state of Samaria as a result of their alliance with the Aramaeans.

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The subjection of Hamath by the Assyrians was clearly demonstrated again in the year 773 BCE. According to the so-called Pazarcik stela (see above under Shalmaneser IV), Shamshi-ilu, when entering Damascus in 773 BCE, must, further on his way, have passed through Hamath (Dion 1997: 163). The importance of the Philistines in Amos is suggested by Amos 1-2, where all the major Philistine cities, except Gath, are referred to. The Philistines, accordingly, would have been allies of Damascus in an attempt to rise against the weakened Assyrian empire. The reason why Gath is not mentioned in Amos 1-2 is understandable from the reference in Amos 6.2, where we get the impression that Gath is already destroyed. Concerning Gath in general, we are, unfortunately, on less secure ground. For instance, Gath is hardly mentioned in the Neo-Assyrian sources before Sargon II. According to Sargon's annals, the cities of Ashdod and Gath were incorporated into the Assyrian empire in the year 711 BCE (Grayson 1991/2000: 89). Also, unlike the other main Philistine cities, the location of Gath has never been secured. Nonetheless, not a few scholars identify Gath with Tell esSafi. The location, and, not least, the enormous size of the tell, supports the possibility that we here are dealing with ancient Gath. In my view, it is hard to find a more likely candidate. //"Tell es-Safi really is ancient Gath, we should note that there is archaeological evidence for massive destructions at Gath/Tell es-Safi around 800 BCE (Ehrlich 2002: 65). Again, we may, on the basis of this, admittedly tentative, evidence, understand why the text of Amos refers to the fate of Gath as something that had already happened. Ehrlich suggests that the destroyer of Gath was Hazael. It is more likely, though, that the destruction was caused by Adad-nirari III (810-783 BCE). As we have seen above, this Neo-Assyrian king made several campaigns to the west between 805 and 796 (cf. also Grayson 1996/2002: 207). 17. Dating Amos II Above, we were able to date the Book of Amos to the period between 805 (the, admittedly uncertain, death of Hazael) and 732 BCE (the fall of Damascus). In the meantime, we have learnt a little more. It is, for instance, quite clear that the events referred to in Amos 1-2 fit very nicely into the kind of history that we are dealing with in ninth- and eighth-century Assyria and Aram. We noticed also that the historical geography of Amos fits perfectly into the reign of Adad-nirari III (810-783). Only from his times onwards are the Philistine states active members of the political alliances against the NeoAssyrian campaigns to the west. We should, consequently, be able to push the terminus a quo a little. Since reports of prophetic activity that were found worthy of being handed down to posterity were only those concerned with major political events, I believe that it is safe to conclude that we also have a likely terminus ante quern for the dating of the events in Amos. By the middle of the reign of the Assyrian

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king Ashur-dan III (772-755 BCE) Assyria was weakened, and unable to wage military campaigns at all (Grayson 1982: 276-9). From a dating between 805 and 732 BCE, we have, subsequently, arrived at a period between 810 and (say) 763 BCE (conventional dating for the middl of the reign of Ashur-dan III). The only event of some importance (known so far) during this interval where Damascus is concerned, is the Shamshi-ilu incident under Shalmaneser IV in the year 773 BCE. Since Damascus is th major player in Amos 1-2, it is not unlikely that the 'Damascus alliance' that constitutes the historical and political background of the Book of Amos was prompted by Shamshi-ilu's 'visit' to Damascus in 773 BCE. As noted above, no other city of Hatti is mentioned in connection with the conquest of Damascus. For this reason, it could be imagined that Damascus rearranged her allies after this event in order to get back the Assyrians. Admittedly, our sources are very meagre indeed, and any new information could completely change the picture. That the references in Amos 1-2 are to events leading up to Shamshi-ilu's sacking of Damascus in 773 is another possibility. Both of these scenarios also fit the years conventionally given for Barhadad II, son of Hazael (c. 800-775). From the Book of Amos we learn that the events referred to took place under Bar-hadad. If this is correct, they must have happened towards the end of his reign, or even after he had yielded the throne to his successor Hadianu. This, however, I consider a minor problem. 18. Conclusion During recent years, we have been witnessing an increasing scepticism with reference to possibilities for dating texts in the Hebrew Bible. However, to anyone interested in the history of the ancient Near East, it is fundamental to have some idea of which historical periods the texts in question give us information about. The purpose of the present paper is to look into the text of Amos 1-2, in order to try to find out about the positivistic truth value of the information found there. This paper represents an experiment. Above, I referred to various auxiliary methods that have formerly been used by Old Testament scholars for dating texts. For various reasons (cf. above), I have not used any of them in the present study. Obviously, this does not imply that I believe that such methods are without value, but that they should only be used afterwards. My point is rather that we cannot start with any of these methods. In a similar manner, I have avoided using commentaries and current secondary literature on Amos. The motivation for this is that many of these are 'contaminated' by former views that are building on former views that are building on former views that are not necessarily valid today. This applies above all for our knowledge of Aramaean and Neo-Assyrian history. Only when we have established a safe, independent historical context for the information found in Amos 12 based on external evidence do we have access to a means of control for

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information found in the literature. For similar reasons, I have, for the present undertaking, also avoided using other biblical texts. As for Amos 1-2, the best starting point for establishing a historical context turned out to be the focus on the genre 'words against the nations', as well as a closer look at names of persons and places referred to in these forewarnings in Amos. The historical background for Amos clearly reflects the relationship between the Aramaeans and the Assyrians in the ninth to eighth centuries BCE. In this picture, we may witness how various city states constantly rebel against their Assyrian overlords, and how the Neo-Assyrian empire strikes back. At the very centre of this 'imperial dynamics', we find the many different political and military coalitions. One of these is referred to in Amos 1-2. From Amos, we may conclude that Damascus had, yet again, rebelled against the Assyrians, and that the city state of Samaria was one of the most important allies of the Aramaeans. In addition, several other allies (of varying importance) are mentioned throughout Amos 1-2. More precisely, the various city states that are mentioned as treaty members make it possible to pin-point the time of Amos 1-2 to the reign of the Neo-Assyrian king Adad-nirari in (810-783 BCE). Amos utters himself against this alliance and claims that the outcome shall be ill-fated. Moreover, since Damascus is the major player in Amos 1-2, it is not unlikely that the 'Damascus alliance' that constitutes the historical and political background of the Book of Amos was prompted by Shamshi-ilu's sack of Damascus in 773 BCE (under Shalmaneser IV (782-773 BCE). Or another possibility is that Amos 1-2 refer to events that lead up to Shamshiilu's subjugation of Damascus. When dealing with matters of ancient history, we shall have to live with the problem that we cannot always prove that the information that we find in our texts are true in a positivistic fashion. Unfortunately, our sources for the period of Shalmaneser IV are very meagre indeed, and any new information might completely change the picture. We have reached some conclusions concerning the historical trustworthiness of Amos 1-2. It appears that the historical outlook of this text is genuinely set within the framework of the Neo-Assyrian empire, and can, more specifically, be dated to the early eighth century BCE. For my own part, I should have little hesitation in using the information found in Amos, together with information from other biblical and extra-biblical texts, as sources for the reconstruction of the history of ancient Samaria in this period.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Barstad, H. M. 1997 'History and the Hebrew Bible', in: Can a 'History of Israel' be Written? Ed. by L. L. Grabbe (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament. Supplement Series 348. European Seminar in Historical Methodology 1). Sheffield (1997): 37-64.

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Barstad, H. M. 'Prophecy in the Book of Jeremiah and the Historical Prophet', in: Sense 2002 and Sensitivity. Essays on Reading the Bible in Memory of Robert Carroll. Ed. by A. G. Hunter and P. R. Davies (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament. Supplement Series 348). Sheffield (2002): 87-100. Beaulieu, P.-A. 1992 'Antiquarian Theology in Seleucid Uruk', Acta Sumerologica 14 (1992): 47-75. Becking, Bob 1992 The Fall of Samaria. An Historical and Archaeological Study (Studies in the History of the Ancient Near East 2). Leiden 1992. Bienkowski, P. 2000 'Transjordan and Assyria', in: The Archaeology of Jordan and Beyond. Essays in Honor of James A. Sauer. Ed. by L. E. Stager, J. A. Greene, and M. D. Coogan (Studies in the Archaeology and History of the Levant 1). Winona Lake, IN (2000): 44-58. Boiy, T. 2002 'The "Accession Year" in the Late Achaemenid and Early Hellenistic Period', Mining the Archives. Festschrift for Christopher Walker on the Occasion of his 60th Birthday 4 October 2002. Ed. by C. Wunsch (Babylonische Archive 1). Dresden (2002): 25-33. Carroll, R. P. 'Inventing the Prophets', Irish Biblical Studies 10 (1988): 24-36. 1988 1989 'Prophecy and Society', in: The World of Ancient Israel. Sociological, Anthropological and Political Perspectives. Essays by Members of the Society for Old Testament Study. Cambridge (1989): 203-25. Dion, P.-E. 1995 'Syro-Palestinian Resistance to Shalmaneser HI in the Light of New Documents', ZAW 107 (1995): 482-9. 1997 Les Arameens a I'age du fer. Histoire politique et structures sociales (Etudes bibliques 37): Paris 1997. Dornemann, R, H. 1997 'Til Barsip', in: The Oxford Encyclopedia of Archaeology in the Ancient Near East. Ed. E. M. Meyers. Vol. 5. New York (1997): 209-10. Durand, J.-M. Archives epistolaires de Mari I/I (Archives royales de Mari 26). Paris 1988 1988. Ehrensvard, M, G. 2002 Studies in the Syntax and the Dating of Biblical Hebrew. [Unpublished] PhD Dissertation. Faculty of Theology. University of Aarhus June 2002. [Aarhus 2002]. Ehrlich, C. S. 2002 'Die Suche nach Gat und die neuen Ausgrabungen auf Tell es-Saff', in: Kein Land fur sich allein. Studien zum Kulturkontakt in Kanaan, IsraelfPalastina und Ebemari fur Manfred Weippert zum 65. Geburtstag. Herausgegeben von U. Hiibner und E. A. Knauf (Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 186). Freibur (2002): 56-69. Goldberg, J. 1999 'Two Assyrian Campaigns against Hezekiah and Later Eighth Century Biblical Chronology', Bib 80 (1999): 360-90. Grayson, A. K. 1982 'Assyria. Ashur-Dan H to Ashur-Nirari V (934-745 B.C.)', CAH Second edition, ffi, 1 (1982): 238-81.

BARSTAD Can Prophetic Texts Be Dated? 1991

1996 1999

Hurvitz, A. 2000 Ikeda, Y. 1999

Kelle, B. E. 2002 Kuhrt, A. 1995 Lemaire, A. 1991 Lipiriski, E. 2000 Malamat, A. 1953 Mayer, W. 1995 Mazzoni, S. 2000 Millard, A. 1993 Na'aman, N. 1991

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'Assyria. Tiglath-pileser III to Sargon II (744-705 B.C.)', 'Assyria. Sennacherib and Esarhaddon (704-669 B.C.)', 'Assyria 668-635 B.C. The Reign of Ashurbanipal', CAHEL, 2. Second edition 1991. Reprinted (2000): 71-161. Assyrian Rulers of the Early First Millennium BC. II. (868-745 BC), (The Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia. Assyrian Periods. Vol. 3). Toronto 1996. Reprinted 2002. 'The Struggle for Power in Assyria. Challenge to Absolute Monarchy in the Ninth and Eighth Centuries B.C, in: Priests and Officials in the Ancient Near East. Papers of the Second Colloquium on the Ancient Near East - the City and its Life, held at the Middle Eastern Culture Center in Japan (Mitaka, Tokyo) March 22-24, 1996. Ed. by K. Watanabe. Heidelberg (1999): 253-70. 'Can Biblical Texts be Dated Linguistically? Chronological Perspectives in the Historical Study of Biblical Hebrew', in: Congress Volume Oslo 1998. Ed. by A. Lemaire and M. Sasb0. Leiden (2000): 143-60. 'Looking from Til Barsip on the Euphrates: Assyria and the West in Ninth and Eight Centuries B.C.', in: Priests and Officials in the Ancient Near East. Papers of the Second Colloquium on the Ancient Near East - the City and its Life, held at the Middle Eastern Culture Center in Japan (Mitaka, Tokyo) March 22-24, 1996. Ed. by K. Watanabe. Heidelberg (1999): 271-302. 'What's in a Name? Neo-Assyrian Designations for the Northern Kingdom and their Implications for Israelite History and Biblical Interpretation', }BL 121 (2002): 639-66. The Ancient Near East c. 3000-330 BC. Vol. H (Routledge History of the Ancient World). London 1995. 'Hazae'l de Damas, roi d'Aram', in: Marchand, diplomates et empereurs. Etudes sur la civilisation mesopotamienne offertes a Paul Garelli. Textes reunis par D. Charpin et F. Joannes. Paris (1991): 91-108. The Arameans. Their Ancient History, Culture, Religion (Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta). Leuven 2000. 'Amos 1:5 in the Light of the Til Barsip Inscriptions', BASOR 129 (1953): 25-26. Politik und Kriegskunst der Assyrer (Abhandlungen zur Literatur AltSyrien-Palastinas und Mesopotamiens 9). Miinster 1995. 'Syria and the Periodization of the Iron Age. A Cross-Cultural Perspective', in: Essays on Syria in the Iron Age. Ed. by G. Bunnens (Ancient Near Eastern Studies. Supplement 7). Leuven (2000): 31-59. 'Eden, Bit Adini and Beth Eden', in: Abraham Malamat Volume. Ed. by S. Ahituv and B. A. Levine (Eretz-Israel 24). Jerusalem (1993): 173*-177*. 'Forced Participation in Alliances in the Course of the Assyrian Campaigns to the West', in Ah, Assyria ... Studies in Assyrian History and Ancient Near

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Ahab Agonistes Eastern Historiography Presented to Hayim Tadtnor. Ed. by M. Cogan and I. Eph'al (Scripta Hierosolymitana 33). Jerusalem (1991): 80-98.

Oded, B. 1991

Paul, Sh. M. 1991 Pitard, W. T. 1987

'"The Command of the God" as a Reason for Going to War in the Assyrian Royal Inscriptions', in: Ah, Assyria ... Studies in Assyrian History and Ancient Near Eastern Historiography Presented to Hayim Tadmor. Ed. by M. Cogan and I. Eph'al (Scripta Hierosolymitana 33). Jerusalem (1991): 223-30. Amos. A Commentary on the Book of Amos. Ed. by E M. Cross (Hermeneia. A Critical and Historical Commentary on the Bible). Minneapolis 1991.

Ancient Damascus. A Historical Study of the Syrian City-State from Earliest Times until its Fall to the Assyrians in 732 B.C.E. Winona Lake 1987. Reinhold, G. G. G. 1989 Die Beziehungen Altisraels zu den aramdischen Staaten in der israelitischjudaischen Konigszeit (Europaische Hochschulschriften XXIII, 368). Frankfurt am Main 1989. Sader, H. S. 1987 LesetatsarameensdeSyrie. Depuisleurfondationjusqu'aleur transformation en provinces assyriennes (Beiruter Texte und Studien 36). Beirut 1987. Schneider, T. J. 1996 'Rethinking Jehu', Bib 77 (1996): 100-7. Tadmor, H. 1994 The Inscriptions of Tiglath-pileser HI King of Assyria. Critical Edition, with Introductions, Translations and Commentary (Publications of the Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities. Section of Humanities. Fontes ad res judaicas spectantes). Jerusalem 1994. Ulrich, E. 1999 'The Palaeo-Hebrew Biblical Manuscripts from Qumran Cave 4', in: E. Ulrich, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Origins of the Bible (Studies in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature). Grand Rapids, MI (1999): 121-47. Weippert, M. 1987 'The Relations of the States East of Jordan with the Mesopotamian Powers During the First Millennium BC', in: Studies in the History and Archaeology of Jordan IE (1987): 97-105. Weippert, M. 1992 'Die Feldziige Adadniraris HI. [810-783] nach Syrien. Voraussetzungen, Verlauf, Folgen', ZDPV 108 (1992): 42-67. Weitzman, S. 1999 'Why did the Qumran Community Write in Hebrew?' JAOS 119 (1999): 35-45. Younger, K. L. 1999 'The Fall of Samaria in Light of Recent Research', CBQ 61 (1999): 46182.

THE HOUSE OF OMRI/AHAB IN CHRONICLES

Ehud Ben Zvi

1. Introduction As it is well-known, the narrative from 2 Chron. 10 to 2 Chron. 36 constructs and focuses on the kingdom of Judah and concludes by pointing at its eventual, legitimate successor, the Yehudite community. The book, however, contains references to the Northern Kingdom, which although populated by 'Israel' was considered a non-legitimate polity whose very existence was sinful.1 Given the ideological/theological (hereafter, ideological) constraints that govern this narrative, references to the Northern Kingdom in Chronicles appear within accounts about the kingdom of Judah or its kings. They report about instances in which the kingdom, or kings of Judah interacted with northern Israel. At times, they serve to create an ideological as well as literary comparative framework within which the Judahites or their king were evaluated.2 Since the references to the Northern Kingdom are sporadic, incidental and always subordinate to the main narrative about Judah, they do not, cannot and were never meant to shape any broad historical narrative about the Northern Israelite polity. But, even if such references are incidental to the thrust of the Chronicler,3 they still projected an image, and communicated knowledge - historically reliable4 or otherwise - about the Northern Kingdom. This chapter deals with the main features of the image of the 1. It should be noticed, however, that its (temporary) existence was not contrary to the short-term will of YHWH (2 Chron. 11.4). To be sure, 'short' is a quite relative term, since it involves centuries, but it is still 'short' in a cosmico-mythological dimension. Matters associated with these issues deserve a full and separate discussion that goes beyond the goals of this paper and is not required for the arguments advanced here. See also Ben Zvi 2006. 2. According to Japhet, 'it [Chronicles] takes advantage of any opportunity to recount the events in Israel by means of its narrative of Judah's history'. See Japhetl997: 316-17. Her claim - in itself a corrective to diametrically opposite previous approaches - is somewhat overstated (cf., for instance, 2 Chron. 18.34—19.1 with 2 Kgs 22.35-38) but underlies the fact Chronicles conveys a substantial amount of information about the Northern Kingdom. 3. By 'Chronicler' I mean the implied author of the Book of Chronicles. 4. Historically reliable, in contemporaneous terms.

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kingdom of Israel under the House of Ahab, as they were created in and by the narrative in Chronicles.5 To begin with, this House is not a 'regular' House in Chronicles.6 The House of Ahab bears a paradigmatic, ideological status in Chronicles. As it will be shown below, this House is construed as exerting some irrational attraction for Davides, even among the best of them (see, the extreme case of Jehoshaphat). Since, within the discourse of the book, the Davidic kings were never supposed to become allies or partners of the Northern Kingdom, the very existence of the House of Ahab brought incommensurable danger to the House of David. Moreover, beyond the mentioned, explicit concerns of the Chronicler about the disastrous influences of this dynasty on Judah and the Davides in particular,7 it is worth examining the broad characterization of this period in northern Israel, which includes but is certainly not restricted to the ideological motifs mentioned above. As it will be shown below, the more encompassing construction of the era of the 'House of Ahab' in the north, as it is shaped by references to it in Chronicles, raises questions about the historiography of that period in Achaemenid Yehud.8 But before dealing with these matters, two clarifications are in order. First, the main sources of Chronicles for the history of the house of Ahab/ Omri are the book of Kings and the Chronicler's exegetical/historiographical approach. Most of the texts discussed below are paralleled in Kings. Yet the goal of this contribution is not to reconstruct the process, or processes of composition of the textual references to the northern polity in Chronicles, but rather to study the image of the period that these references did create for the primary readership of Chronicles. Thus the present work will not address questions such as, why a parallel to such and such pericope in Kings does or does not appear in Chronicles. Nor will there be attempts to explain the textual differences between parallel accounts. Although, I am convinced 5. To be sure, from a historical perspective, the appropriate term is the House of Omri (and cf. 'Jehu the son of Omri' in Assyrian inscriptions from the time of Shalmanerer HI), but within the ideological narrative of Chronicles, the correct term can only be, the House of Ahab. On 'Jehu the Son of Omri', see Na'aman 1998; Kelle 2002: 646^9. 6. To be sure, this House is also not a 'regular' House in the book of Kings (see 2 Kgs 21.3,13). The sheer scope of the material about this House in Kings, which is unparalleled for a Northern Israelite dynasty, is also another indicator of the importance of the House within the ideological reconstructions of Israel's past that were accepted among the authorship and readerships of the book. See also Mic. 6.16. The book of Chronicles, here, as in many other instances, does not 'invent' but reflects the salience of an element in the constructions of the past that were agreed upon among the literati of its period - among whom one is to locate the authorship and primary readership of the book. Still, Chronicles gives the accepted salience a particular twist. An analysis of the latter is one of the goals of this paper. On the matter of historiographic constraints in Chronicles, see Ben Zvi 2003; 2006. 7. Their links to the House of Ahab almost led to obliteration for the Davidic dynasty (see 2 Chron. 23.9-10) and to the only period in Judah's history in which a non-Davide, in fact, an Ahabite, ruled over Jerusalem. 8. The Book of Chronicles was most likely composed in Achaemenid Yehud.

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that the intended and primary readers of Chronicles were informed by the narratives in the so-called Deuteronomistic history, they were also asked to read a historical narrative that was different from the one in Kings, and which calls attention also to itself.9 Second, since the authorship of Chronicles derives its knowledge of the period under discussion from the Book of Kings - or a very similar text - and from the application of its own ideological criteria about what could or must have happened, or simply that which fits better the historical narrative advanced in the book and its purposes, but not on reliable criteria of historicity as understood in contemporaneous discourse, then the image of Ahabite Israel in Chronicles cannot be used to 'correct' that in Kings for the purpose of historical reconstructions of Omride Israel. The image created in Kings and the historicity of the information advanced there have to be discussed on their own merits, but a study of the relevant reports in Chronicles does not make a contribution to that discussion, nor is it to be used as a source for reconstructing the historical period, since it is a fully dependent source (cf. Josephus' recounting, and reshaping, of monarchic Israel).10 In sum, this paper deals with construction or constructions of Ahabite Israel in the Chronicler's historical narrative and with some historiographical concerns raised by such construction or constructions. 2. The Data: Texts Referring to Kings of (Northern) Israel or to Israelites or Israel During the Ahab dynasty 2.1 References to Omri The only reference to Omri in Chronicles is to his being the father of Athaliah, the mother of king Ahaziah of Judah (see 2 Chron. 22.2). The text suggests that Omri was related to the House of Ahab, but does not refer to him as king of Israel.11 It also indicates that Omri was born 9. In other words, at the very least, the Book of Chronicles was not meant to be read only in parallel to Samuel-Kings. 10. This conclusion holds true even if by a historiographical accident some elements of the image of Israel in Chronicles were to be closer to the historical events than its description in Kings. Particular cases of coincidence are not tantamount to historical correspondence between narrative and historical events or referents. I have discussed these matters elsewhere; see, for instance, Ben Zvi 2006:100-16. 11. The fact that Omri is not designated as 'king of Israel' in 2 Chron. 22.2 cannot be explained in terms of the Chronicler's refusal to assign this title to the kings of the Northern Kingdom (see 1 Chron 5.17; 2 Chron. 16.1, 3; 18.3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 17, 19, 25, 28, 29, 33, 34; 20.35; 21.6, 13; 22.5; 25.17, 18, 21, 23, 25; 28.2, 5). Whatever the original reason for the omission of the term 'king of Israel' in reference to Omri may be, such a lack is fully consistent with the effacement of Omri and his status in the memory of the period, as so pointedly expressed by the ubiquitous references to the dynasty actually founded by Omri as 'the House of Ahab'. See also below.

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earlier than Ahaziah, king of Judah, though how much earlier is not specificed.12 2.2 References to Ahaziah, king of Israel Ahaziah, king of Israel, appears in only one account in Chronicles (see 2 Chron. 20.35-37). The text there contains the following information regarding Ahaziah: (1) Ahaziah reigned over Israel, after Ahab, and during the last portion of Jehoshaphat's reign; (2) Ahaziah was from the House of Ahab,13 though the precise family relation between Ahab and Ahaziah is not stated; (3) Ahaziah and Jehoshaphat were partners in a failed maritime manufacture and trade enterprise, namely the unsuccessful attempt to build ships able to go to Tarshish at a shipyard in Ezion Geber; (4) the enterprise failed because any partnership between Jehoshaphat and Ahaziah was opposed by YHWH, who, accordingly, wrecked the undertaking (see the speech of the prophet Eliezer, the son of Dodavahu of Mareshah in v. 37); (5) YHWH's reported opposition to the project is to be understood against the background of the book's evaluation of Ahaziah as one who acted wickedly (v. 35), its evaluation of the House of Ahab, and the general ideology advanced in Chronicles that no king of Judah should ally himself with kings of the Northern Kingdom.14

2.3 References to Jehoram, king of Israel The references to Jehoram, king of Israel, are embedded in the account of the death of Ahaziah/Azariah,15 king of Judah (see 2 Chron. 22.5-9). The text there contains the following information regarding Jehoram: (1) He reigned contemporaneously with Ahaziah/Azariah; (2) Jehoram was the son of Ahab; (3) Ahaziah/Azariah allied himself with Jehoram and both fought against 12. It is worth noting that the phenomenon of Athaliah's ideological 'double paternity' that occurs in Kings (see 2 Kgs 8.26 and cf. 2 Kgs 8.18) is present also in Chronicles (see 2 Chron. 21.6), and for similar reasons, namely to associate Athaliah directly with the character whose name is called upon the northern Israelite dynasty that was most despised in their discourses in the past. Cf. Ishida 1975; 1977: 177. Moreover, the seed of the ideological motif that the Ahabites could and did exert a negative influence on the Davides also appears in Kings (see 2 Kgs 8.18), but the motif's full development is reflected in, and shaped by Chronicles. See below. 13. Within the narrative in Chronicles, this can be inferred from the fact that this royal house continues to rule Israel till Jehu's revolt (see 2 Chron. 22.7). Since Ahaziah ruled after Ahab, but before Jehoram and Jehu's coup, then he must have been an Ahabite. Of course, Ahaziah is designated as son of Ahab in 1 Kgs 22.50-52. The text in 2 Chron. 20.35-37 partially parallels 1 Kgs 22.49-50, but does not include the information that Ahaziah is Ahab's son. 14. On the importance of this topic in the shaping of the account of Jehoshaphat in Chronicles see Knoppers 1991. 15. For the latter name, see 2 Chron. 22.6. Within this context, it is clear that the same king is referred to by two names.

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Hazael, king of Aram at Ramot Gilead; (4) Jehoram was wounded in that battle, returned to Jezreel to be healed, but rather was murdered along with Ahaziah/Azariah who came to visit him, and along with some members of the Judahite royal family and Judahite officers; (5) Jehoram and the others were killed by Jehu, the son of Nimshi, who was anointed by YHWH to exterminate the house of Ahab and who, according to YHWH's explicit plan, killed their ally, the reigning Da vide (see v. 7); (6) Jehoram and the entire house of Ahab did evil in the sight of YHWH. 2.4 References to Ahab Contrary to the mentioned relatively short references, Ahab figures more prominently in Chronicles and he gives his name to his House. There are several explicit references to the House of Ahab (2 Chron. 21.6,13; 22.3, 4-5, 7, 8). As mentioned above, this House is a paradigmatic case of a sinful royal House in the book, as in Kings. But in Chronicles it is also a House whose very existence is a trap to the Davidic House that leads it to sin and ruination. Yet, Ahab as an individual and Ahab's Israel are also characterized in Chronicles (see 2 Chron. 18). The following points of this characterization are worth considering: (1) Jehoshaphat rather than Ahab is presented as responsible for the marriage alliance between the Davides and the Ahabites (v. I).16 Within the world of the narrative, Judah is at the apex of its power at that time, it is Jehoshaphat who unexpectedly, without any possible reason and with every reason not to do so, decides to enter into a marriage alliance.17 There is nothing in the text that suggests that Israel's Ahab was more powerful than Judah, as it certainly was in historical terms. If anything, the text seems to connote the opposite (see 2 Chron. 17). (2) According to v. 2, Ahab 'induced' Jehoshaphat (iniyo"*!) to go to war against Aram. Although hiphil verbal forms of mo often carry negative connotations akin to incite or mislead (see 1 Chron. 21.1; 2 Chron. 32.11, 15), it bears noting that within this narrative, they also serve to encapsulate one of the main messages of the story. In addition to the form in v. 2, another hiphil form of mo appears at the conclusion of v. 31, in a text that may be translated 'God induced them (VOTiD) away from him.' Just as Ahab's inducement puts Jehoshaphat's life in peril, YHWH's saves his life. Just as Ahab controls Jehoshaphat's actions, so 16. Knoppers is correct when he states: '... in the Chronicler's shaping of this alliance, Jehoshaphat appears especially culpable' (see G. N. Knoppers 1991, quotation from p. 512). Notice also the use of the preposition "7 instead of 3 with the hitpa'el form of yff\ (cf. 1 Sam. 18.21,22, 23, 26,27 - the other two instances of this expression are Deut. 7.3 and the probably related text in Ezra 9.14) or rm (cf. Gen. 34.9; 1 Kgs 3.1); though see also ^ 'ysa in 1 Chron. 4.22. 17. It is worth noting that the text in Chronicles explicitly refers to Ahabites who gave some of their women to Davides, but not the other way around.

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(3)

(4)

(5) (6)

YHWH controls that of the Aramaean soldiers. Moreover, there is a close thematic and semantic link between the hiphil forms of HID at the poles of the narrative and the three forms nno in the piel at the centre of the narrative (2 Chron. 18.19,20,21).18 Thus the text not only informs the readers of Ahab's political actions, but above all of the Ahabite's power over the Davide; he was metaphorically as a god to him. Moreover, the prophet Jehu, the son of Hanani - a most reliable speaker in the narrative - condemns Jehoshaphat not only for aiding the 'wicked' but also for loving those 'who hate YHWH' (2 Chron. 19.2; cf. Ps. 139.21-22). Within the metaphorical language of patron and client as expressed in the world of political relations - and here the narrative deals with kings - the expression would mean that Jehoshaphat did not comply with his obligations towards his patron, YHWH, and supported those who stand against his sovereign overlord, namely the wicked who 'hate' YHWH.19 Ahab, and the Ahabites in general, are rhetorically and ideologically set as monarchs who oppose the legitimate monarch, YHWH. Yet, the Ahabite is described as one who treats the Davide - and his entourage - with due honour. It is not only the copious banquet,20 but also and mainly that he respects and fulfils Jehoshaphat's seemingly pious requests (w. 2,4-5, 6-8), and in fact, all of Jehoshaphat's requests at this point in the narrative. Even if it is at Jehoshaphat's request, Ahab is described as seeking YHWH's advice before engaging in war. There are hundreds of prophets of YHWH in Israel. The text suggests that Ahab regularly consults them. Nowhere does this narrative claim that Ahab, or the (northern) Israelites for that matter, worshipped or consulted Baal.21 Moreover, there are Israelite prophets of YHWH -

18. On these matters, see Kalimi 2000: 339-42; 2005: 356-59. 19. This terminology has a long history in the ancient Near East, see, for instance, 'We will love Assurbanipal, king of Assyria and hate his enemy', in Parpola and Watanabe 1988: 66 [9.32]. 20. Interestingly, the banquet does not appear in the parallel in Kings, see 1 Kgs 22.2. 21. It is worth noting that Chronicles explicitly states that Jehoshaphat did not seek the Baals (2 Chron. 17.3) but that during Athaliahu's regime, there was a temple of Baal in Jerusalem (see 2 Chron. 23.17) and her children, that is, Jerusalemite Davides, used things that were dedicated to YHWH for the worship of the Baals, presumably in Jerusalem (2 Chron. 24.7). Later Ahaz is condemned for making cast images for the Baals (2 Chron. 28.2 - within this narrative, the reference to the 'kings of Israel' in the verse does not imply that Ahaz was following their example on that matter, notice the preceding DJ1 and see v. 3). Finally Manasseh is condemned for erecting altars to the Baals. Within the world of Chronicles, Baal worship is explicitly foregrounded as a Judahite problem. It bears notice that despite the explicit and strongly worded evaluative comment on Athaliahu (2 Chron. 24.7) and that she is described as the person in power in Judah, the Chronicler still does not claim that she built or furnished the temple of Baal in Jerusalem. The latter is even directly associated with Davides influenced by an Ahabite.

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and no others are mentioned - and they did faithfully communicate the divine message, as they received it.22 (7) Both Jehoshaphat and Ahab accept the prophecies of all but one of the prophets. Significantly, this prophet, Micaiah, is described as one who prophesied doom against Ahab for a long time. Such a doom had not been fulfilled at all, from the perspective of both kings at the time. In other words, Micaiah had at the time the 'worst record' among the prophets. The rejection of his prophecy was from that perspective the rational choice. Moreover, YHWH seems to concur with this evaluation, for the logic of the narrative implies the prophecy of the many will be accepted over that of one, Micaiah. Had this not been the case, YHWH's plan to lure Ahab to his doom would have failed from the outset (w. 18-22). 2.5 References to other northern Israelites during the Ahabite period According to 2 Chron. 21.12-15, Jehoram, king of Judah, received a letter from Elijah, the prophet. This is the only place in Chronicles in which Elijah is mentioned. His position as a person living outside Judah is established in the narrative by the fact that rather than approaching the king directly and uttering his prophetic speech - as all other prophets - he sends a letter (cf. Jeremiah 29). The references to the kings of Israel and to the House of Ahab in this text reinforce the standard association of Elijah with the Northern Kingdom. Chronicles here construes the image of a true prophet who lives in the North during the Ahabite regime,23 and who is well aware of the crucial events in the South. He is sternly critical of the political elite of his own polity, but rather than interacting and struggling with it, as his counterpart in Kings does, his attention is on (a) the Davides in Jerusalem, and particularly on how they have gone astray by imitating and even surpassing the Ahabites in evildoing, and (b) the coming judgment against the present king of Judah. 24 Not only Elijah is characterized in this text. YHWH is implicitly characterized as one who chooses pious northern Israelites for prophets against the House of David. One may notice that although it is possible that she was not 'credited' with building the temple of Baal, because the authorship and readership shared a cultural assumption that only male kings build temples, this is certainly not a textual necessity, nor is it supported by the fact that in Chronicles women may build cities (1 Chron. 7.24), and as for furnishing and devoting things to the cult, see 2 Chron. 15.16. 22. To be sure, their faithfulness is implicitly contrasted with the explicitly misleading character of the message (2 Chron. 18.20-22). 23. Since the letter was sent to Jehoram of Judah, it has to precede Jehu's rebellion in which Ahaziah, his successor, was killed. In other words, he writes during the Ahabite period. 24. As expected, whereas Elijah's prophecy against the Ahabites in 1 Kings 21 announces the destruction of their House (see v. 22) his prophecy against the Davides in Chronicles concerns the death of a single monarch, not the destruction of his entire House.

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Ahabite Israel is in turn characterized as a place in which such prophets can be or are found. 2.6 References to 'the ways of the kings of Israel' that are applicable to the Ahabite period in particular Negative comments about the ways of the king of Israel, and in particular reference to the Ahabites, appear in 2 Chron. 21.6, 13 (cf. 2 Chron. 28.2). But it bears note that there is nothing concrete that one can learn about these ways except for the evaluation that they involve actions that are evil in the sight of YHWH and lead people astray (to apostasy?). Further, these ways are not related, in any clear way at least, the descriptions of the actions of Ahab or of the contemporaneous circumstances in Northern Israel as the latter are conveyed in 2 Chronicles 18, which is the only text that provides some vignettes of that world. 3. Gathering the Pieces: Ahabite Israel as Construed by Chronicles What does the narrative in Chronicles tell about Ahabite Israel? How would a traditional memory of the period have been shaped by only this source? What would have been included in a 'traditional' history of Israel had the book of Kings been lost for eternity, and only Chronicles survived? Turning to the last of these questions, and focusing first on what today we may refer to as 'historical' (as opposed to 'ideological') data,25 the following picture of Ahabite Israel would have emerged: (1) The Israelite kings from this dynasty were Ahab, Ahaziah and Jehoram,26 in that order. There would have been no reason to assume that Omri was the founder of the dynasty, rather than Ahab, and little reason to assume that he was a king at all.27 (2) The Ahabite dynasty came to an end at the hand of Jehu. (3) The Ahabites' rule over Israel was contemporaneous with that of Jehoshaphat, Jehoram, and Ahaziah of Judah. (4) Jehoshaphat initiated an alliance between the two kingdoms, but Judah was not a vassal nor was in any way inferior in power to Israel. 25. Here 'historical' refers to the types of contents addressed by the data. It does not imply any claim for 'historical accuracy' in today's terms. 26. To be sure, two of these names, Ahaziah and Jehoram appear also as names of kings of Judah. The repetition of names conveys from a literary and ideological perspective a sense of inappropriate closeness between the Davides and the Ahabites at the time. See below. 27. Of course, this would have influenced the understanding of the phrase 'Jehu, son of Omri' in the inscriptions of Shalmanesser HI. Some discussion would have ensued about who is this Omri, why he is mentioned, and whether he is the same as the one referred to in 2 Chron. 22.2. For the most likely present understanding of the role of the expression in Shalmanesser's inscriptions, see Na'aman 1998: 236-8.

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(5) The alliance involved both military and trade aspects. But it failed to achieve its goals. The Ahabites engaged the Aramaeans in war at least twice, with no success in either case. The attempt to develop maritime trade was a failure too. (6) The capital of Ahabite Israel was Samaria. Jezreel was an important royal city at the time. Ramot Gilead was not within the territory they held. (7) The Ahabites, and certainly Ahab, worshipped YHWH. There were numerous prophets of YHWH at that time in Samaria, and these kings - or at least Ahab - sought YHWH, through prophets, before taking any substantial action. To be sure, the above reconstruction out of the narrative is not only a partial, but also a misleading reflection of the world created by and in Chronicles, for the latter included also ideological, and even mythical dimensions. Ahab was certainly considered among those who 'hate YHWH' (2 Chron. 19.2), and Ahabites' ways were condemned again and again. Moreover, their fate was sealed, because of their wicked ways. Further, Chronicles emphasizes that Davide kings approached again and again the House of Ahab, with no apparent reason whatsoever, and even contrary to reasonable expectations, since any link to that House brought disaster again and again to the Davides. Thus, the latter, and even the best among the latter, are characterized as unable to learn from experience when it came to the Ahabites. This is not a matter of secondary importance, but rather a very substantial issue in a book whose persuasive rhetoric is grounded on a rational understanding of past experience, namely history,28 and that was aimed at instructing its readership of YHWH's ways and of what was required from them through the study of history. The House of Ahab served as a multi-generational source of attraction and above all of malaise to Judah and to its royal house (see 2 Chron. 21.6, 13; 22.3, 4)29 that did not end till the last member of this House, Athaliah, was killed (2 Chron. 23.15).30 From the perspective of the intended readership of Chronicles, which did not include kings or potential kings, the house of Ahab served as a quasi-mythical symbol of the potentially fatal lure evildoers may hold for the readers of the book, even if they are the pious, 28. Needless to say, this rationality is based on an acceptance of the narrative, its rhetoric and its theological assumptions. It is worth mentioning that even sinners may be characterized as 'rational people', only their rationality fails to take into account YHWH and YHWH's lordship. A prominent example is, of course, that of Ahaz, on which see Ben Zvi 2006: 210-42. In the cases discussed here, what is striking and strongly emphasized in the text is that within the reported world there is no reason for a Davide to desire an alliance with the Ahabites (cf. Knoppers 1991: 512), and still they do that, and again and again. 29. The same holds true in Kings, see 2 Kgs 8.18, 27; 21.13. 30. From this Judahite perspective, a true Ahabite ruled over Jerusalem even after Jehu's revolt (see 2 Chron. 22.6-9).

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and of the potential dangers of associating with them (cf. Ps. 1; and passim in Proverbs).31 Finally, it is worth particular notice that this quasi-mythical role, and the strong condemnation of the House of Ahab and its ways, did not lead the Chronicler to a flat, one-sided description. Ahabite Israel in Chronicles is presented in a clear multi-faceted manner. It is not that one group of images should be accepted and the other rejected as an accidental by-product of the work of a second-rate editor or composer, but rather that both sets inform each other, balance each other, and provide together a much richer view of the matter.32 In fact, there is nothing unexpected about this feature in Chronicles, for in this book a balanced and complex perspective on different issues is often conveyed through the presentation of multiple viewpoints informing each other. The complex construction of Ahabite Israel in Chronicles is, in fact, a good example of this historiographical tendency in Chronicles.33 4. Considerations About History Writing in Ancient Israel For the study of history writing in ancient Israel, it is worth noting that although the picture mentioned above shares some important features with the one in Kings - as expected since it served as the only source for the narrative in Chronicles - it also strongly diverges from it at several points. Moreover, since the books of Kings were available to both the authorship and readership of Chronicles, it diverges also from a particular knowledge of the past that did exist in the community. Furthermore, it diverged from it in a way that was socially successful (e.g., that is, it was accepted by at least a substantial sector in society, as demonstrated by the fact that the book kept being copied, and read). But even more important for the study of history writing and for historical reconstructions of the period, is the fact that the picture in Chronicles diverges from its original (in Kings) at probably explainable, but surely unpredictable places. Among the latter, one may include, the explicit exclusion of references to the worship of Baal (or Ashera) in northern Israel, which coupled with the vignettes of Ahab's time in 2 Chronicles 18 discussed above, leads to an image of Israel and Ahab that seems to balance 31. This is consistent with the 'democratization' of the lessons learned from the reported actions of kings of the past that is so pronounced in Chronicles. 32. For historical purposes, I prefer this approach to the assumption that images such as those implied in 2 Chronicles 18 served mainly or only to undermine or 'deconstruct' the images conveyed by this narrative and other references (see above). From the perspective of the intended, historical readership, it is more likely that the main rhetorical point of the book was to shape a deeper perspective built around multiple viewpoints informing each other than to advance only a deconstruction of ideological claims and related images of the past explicitly present in the book. 33. I wrote extensively on this tendency in Ben Zvi 2006.

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rather than sharpen the so-important divine evaluation of his reign and of his successors. The exclusion of references to Baal in Israel is even less expected, given that mentioning them could have strengthened the rhetorical case advanced in the book, namely that the Davides followed the paths of the Ahabites (see above). Another example, although one may probably explain away the lack of reference to Omri as king of Israel,34 such a lack could hardly have been predicted. The only Israelite kings not mentioned from Jeroboam to Jehu are very secondary characters in the Kings narrative, and all founders of dynasty were mentioned.35 In addition, although only marginally affecting the picture of northern Israel, it would have been difficult to predict the inclusion of Elijah's letter along with the exclusion of all other material about Elijah. The reconstruction of the Ahabite period as presented in Chronicles not only offers a window for understanding a memory of the past created by a particular historical narrative, but also points to the unpredictable ways in which such images of the past may diverge not only from their original sources but also from other memories of the past that are accepted in the same society.36 A contemporaneous-based differentiation between ideological, theological, mythical, and even literary motifs from 'historical' elements fails to solve the issue of unpredictable changes from source and socially accepted images to new socially accepted images - both types of elements are affected by this unpredictability. Similarly, unpredictable changes may affect both 'incidental' and 'theologically motivated' information. These considerations raise questions on historical reconstructions that assume directly or indirectly that elements of constructions of the past remain changeless if they are incidental or of 'historical' rather than of 'ideological' import. At the same time, it is also important to refer to areas in which there was no real divergence between the construction of the Ahabite period in Kings and Chronicles. They involve the names of the Ahabite kings that are mentioned, and of their contemporaneous Judahite kings, the end of the dynasty, the Israelite-Judahite wars against Aram, the references to geographical locations (i.e., Samaria, Jezreel, Ezion-Geber, Ramot Gilead; significantly, none of them is 'updated'), and of course, the close relation between the two kingdoms in general appear in both. The same holds true for the evaluation of the House of Ahab. These areas seem to involve a core of socially agreed-upon 'facts' that 34. Lack of interaction with Judah, emphasis on Ahab as the 'mythical' head of the family, and the like. 35. The kings that are not mentioned are Nadab, Elah and Zimri. Jeroboam, Baasha, Jehu are mentioned. 36. The result is, of course, a repertoire of memories and texts (here Chronicles and Samuel, Kings) that inform each other; of communities reading one text in a way that is informed by the other, but does not merge with the other, for each still has its own story to tell or probably stories, and particularly so if rereadings of these texts within their primary readerships are taken into account as they should be.

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could not be contradicted within the ancient milieu in which Chronicles was composed, and first read and reread, if the latter book was to be accepted.37 Each society, however, has different items in their historical memory that resist malleability. This being so, one cannot learn from a particular case of lack of malleability at the time of the composition of Chronicles, that the same held true at the time of the composition of Kings, or its forerunners, nor at the time of the composition of sources that may underlie Kings' forerunners. The fact that a particular item was included in a core of facts shared by a community about events that happened long ago, does not necessarily point to its high level of historicity. Both Chronicles and Kings claim that Jehu killed Jehoram of Israel and Ahaziah of Judah, but perhaps Hazael did that job.38 Certainly one cannot learn about the historicity of the motifs of divine evaluation of and judgment against the House of Ahab from their inclusion in that core of facts about the past that was agreed upon by the community in Yehud at the time of the composition of Chronicles. Finally, images of the past are construed on the basis of what is stated and what fails to be stated. It is difficult to attach historicity, in our own terms, to images of Ahabite Israel that do not take into account the economic, political and demographic development of Israel at the time, the substantial differences between Israel and Judah, the Assyrian presence, Qarqar, and the political and demographic consequences of Jehu's rebellion, among many others.39

BIBLIOGRAPHY Ben Zvi, E 2003

2006 Ishida, T. 1975 1977 Japhet, S. 1997 Kalimi, I. 2000 2005

'Malleability and its Limits: Sennacherib's Campaign Against Judah as a Case Study,' in L. L. Grabbe (ed.), 'Bird in a Cage': The Invasion of Sennacherib in 701 BCE (JSOTSup 363; European Seminar in Historical Methodology 4; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press/Continuum, 2003), pp. 73-105. History, Literature and Theology in the Book of Chronicles (London: Equinox, forthcoming). '"The House of Ahab"', IEJ 25, pp. 135-7. The Royal Dynasties in Ancient Israel (BZAW 142; Berlin: de Gruyter). The Ideology of the Book of Chronicles and its Place in Biblical Thought (BEATAJ 9; 2nd revised edition, Frankfurt am Main: P. Lang). The Book of Chronicles, Historical Writing and Literary Devices (Encyclopaedia Miqra'it; Jerusalem: Mosad Bialik, in Hebrew. The Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History in Chronicles (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns).

37. See Ben Zvi 2003. 38. See Na'aman 2000. 39. My thanks are due to members of the seminar and to Dr Antje Labahn for their comments.

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'What's in a Name? Neo-Assyrian Designations for the Northern Kingdom and Their Implications for Israelite History and Biblical Interpretation,' 639-66. Knoppers, G. N. 1991 'Reform and Regression: The Chronicler's Presentation of Jehoshaphat,' Bib 72, pp. 500-24. Na'aman, N. 1998 'Jehu Son of Omri: Legitimizing a Loyal Vassal by his Overlord,' IEJ 48, pp. 236-8. 2000 'Three Notes on the Aramaic Inscription of Tel Dan,' IEJ 50, pp. 92-104. Parpola, S. and K. Watanabe, 1988 Neo-Assyrian Treaties and Loyalty Oaths (SAS II; Helsinki: Helsinki University Press).

THE KINGDOM OF ISRAEL FROM OMRI TO THE FALL OF

SAMARIA: IF WE ONLY HAD THE BIBLE ...

Lester L. Grabbe

For the first time since the Merneptah Inscription, it is in the reign of Omri that we finally begin to find extra-biblical data (apart from archaeology) with which to compare the picture given by the biblical text. After decades of debate it has become widely accepted that the biblical text is very problematic as a source of information about the settlement of central Palestine where the kingdoms of Israel and Judah later emerged.1 The debate has moved on and now focuses on the period surrounding the first part of the monarchy, the early period of 'nationhood'. As long as we have no control on the text from other sources, we are groping in the dark. We can create a scenario in which the text is mainly invention, or one in which a great deal of historical information is present. But these are theoretical exercises — useful in themselves but hardly definitive. One way of trying to get at the question is to work on examples where the text can be checked against external information. An earlier study examined seventhcentury Judah, the period from Sennacherib's invasion to the fall of Jerusalem (Grabbe 2005); however, extra-biblical information first becomes available regularly beginning with the reign of Omri. The present study focuses on the Omride and Jehu dynasties as a testing ground for examining the question of the biblical text in relation to history. My purpose in this article is (1) to ascertain as far as possible what the text says in its own right, as a modern historian might read it without the benefit of any external checks, (2) to assemble as much of the non-biblical data as possible, and (3) to compare and contrast them to determine how far the textual picture matches with that which a historian might reconstruct based on all the data. The ultimate aim is (4) to try to find a way of assessing the biblical stories which cannot be checked with other information.

1

Cf. my survey of scholarship on the question in Grabbe 2000.

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1. The Biblical Story: 1 Kings 16.15-2 Kings 17.41 (2 Chronicles 18-28) NB: Because the books of Chronicles focus on Judah, parallels in 2 Chronicles to the Ahab story are only sporadic. They are listed where they occur, but this is not very often. Outline of the Contents I Kgs 16.15-28: the reign of Omri. .15-20: Zimri reigns seven days in Tirzeh after a coup but is defeated by the army commander Omri and commits suicide. .21-22: the people are split between Omri and Tibni, but Omri defeats and kills the latter. .23-24: Omri reigns 12 years, buys a hill and founds the city of Samaria. .25-28: Omri's reign is given a theological summary without additional information. 1 Kgs 16.29-34: a theologizing summary of Ahab's reign. .29-33: Ahab reigns 22 years, marries Jezebel, and worships Baal, building a temple to Baal in Samaria. .34: Hiel builds Jericho at the expense of his firstborn and youngest sons. 1 Kgs 17-19: various tales centring on Elijah the prophet/man of God. 17.1-6: Elijah declares a famine to Ahab, then hides where he is fed by ravens. 17.7-16: Elijah lives with a widow where they are fed miraculously. 17.17-24: Elijah heals/raises to life the son of the widow. 18.1-46: Elijah's contest with the prophets of Baal and the end of the drought. 19.1-14: Elijah flees to Horeb from the wrath of Jezebel. 19.15-18: Elijah is sent to anoint Hazael, Jehu, and Elisha. 19.19-21: Elisha leaves his farming to follow Elijah. 1 Kgs 20: Ahab and the attack of the Aramaeans. .1-21: Ben-Hadad threatens Ahab but is defeated by Israel at the word of a prophet. .22-30: the prophet warns of a second invasion, but Aramaeans are defeated at the word of a man of God. .31-34: Ben-Hadad surrenders to Ahab who spares his life; BenHadad promises to return the towns taken from Ahab's father by his father, and to let Israel set up bazaars in Damascus as his father did in Samaria. .35-43: a prophet has himself wounded and appears to Ahab as a sign of his error in releasing Ben-Hadad. 1 Kgs 21: Ahab and Naboth's vineyard. .1-16: Ahab takes Naboth's vineyard. .17-26: Elijah prophesies against Ahab and his house.

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.27-29: Ahab repents and the prophecy against him is postponed to his son's time. 1 Kgs 22//2 Chron. 18: story of Ahab's death. .1-5/7.1-4: Ahab asks Jehoshaphat for help in retaking Ramoth-gilead. .6-28/7.5-27: prophets are consulted, including Micaiah who prophesies defeat for Ahab. .29-38/7.28-34: Ahab is killed in battle, fulfilling Yhwh's word. .39-40: summary of Ahab's reign, including the 'ivory house' that he built. 41-51/720.31-21.3: summary of Jehoshaphat's reign, including his 'righteousness' and his failed plan to send ships of Tarshish to Ophir for gold. .52-54: Ahaziah son of Ahab becomes king and reigns two years. 2 Kgs 1. Ahaziah dies at the word of Elijah for enquiring of Baalzebub (most of the chapter concerns the efforts to get Elijah to come visit the king on his sickbed). 2 Kgs 2: Elijah is taken to heaven and Elisha assumes his mantel. 2 Kgs 3: coalition of kings attack Moab. .1-3: Jehoram becomes king over Israel. .4-9: Mesha the king of Moab rebels against Jehoram who assembles a coalition of Israel, Judah, and Edom. .9-20: the kings are delivered from lack of water by Elisha. .21-27: Moab is defeated but Israel withdraws after Mesha sacrifices the crown prince. 2 Kgs 4.1-8.15: tales about Elisha. 4.1-44: various tales of Elisha. 5.1-27: Elisha heals Naaman the Aramaean commander. 6.1-7: Elisha makes an axehead float. 6.8-23: Elisha delivers the Aramaean army into the king of Israel's hand, and the Aramaeans stop invading the land of Israel. 6.24-7.20: Ben-Hadad besieges Samaria, but the Aramaeans flee and the city is delivered through Elisha. 8.1-6: Elisha helps the woman whose son he had revived. 8.7-15: Elisha prophesies that Hazael will replace the ill Ben-Hadad, and the former assassinates the latter. 2 Kgs 8.16-24//2 Chron. 21.4-11, 21.20-22.1: summary of the reign of Joram son of Jehoshaphat over Judah: he marries Athaliah, daughter of Ahab; Edom gains its independence at this time. 2 Kgs 8:25-29/72 Chron. 22.2-6: Joram of Judah dies and his son Ahaziah reigns; Joram of Israel fights alongside Ahaziah against Hazael and the Aramaeans at Ramoth-gilead and is wounded. 2 Kgs 9-10: Jehu stages a coup and takes the throne. 9.1-14: Elisha sends a disciple to anoint Jehu king in Ramothgilead. 9.15-29/722.7-9: Jehu kills Joram of Israel and Ahaziah of Judah. 9.30-37: Jehu kills Jezebel.

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10.1-11: Jehu causes Ahab's offspring to be killed. 10.12-14: relatives of Ahaziah are killed. 10.15-17: Jehu takes Jehonadab the Rechabite to witness his slaughter of the rest of Ahab's house. 10.18-28: Jehu slaughters the worshippers of Baal and removes Baal worship from Israel. 10.29-31: yet Jehu does not follow the Torah or remove worship at Bethel and Dan. 10.32-33: Hazael takes Israelite land east of the Jordan. 10.34-36: summary of Jehu's reign. 2 Kgs 11-12//2 Chron. 22.10-24.14: coup of Joash and his reign over Judah. 11.1-21//22.10-23.21: execution of Athaliah and the installation of Joash on the throne in Jerusalem. 12.1-17//24.1-14: Joash has money collected to repair Yhwh's house. 12.18-19: Hazael of Aram comes against Jerusalem, but Joash buys him off. 12.20-22: Joash's death and summary of his reign 2 Kgs 13.1-9: reign of Jehoahaz son of Jehu. .1-2: summary of Jehoahaz's reign. .3: Israel afflicted by Hazael and Ben-Hadad of Aram. .4-6: Israel gains freedom from Aram despite remaining in the sins of Jeroboam. .7: Jehoahaz had been left with only small military force. .8-9: Jehoahaz's death and summary of his reign. 2 Kgs 13.10-25: reign of Jehoash of Israel. .10-13: summary of Jehoash's reign. .14-19: Elisha on his deathbed offers to Jehoash a sign of defeat of Aram. .20-21: death of Elisha and resurrection of corpse by his bones. .22-25: Jehoash son of Jehoahaz begins to recover territory from Ben-Hadad. 2 Kgs 14.1-22//2 Chron. 25.1-26.2: reign of Amaziah of Judah. .1-6//.1-4: how he was righteous (though he did not remove the country shrines). .7//.5-16: defeat of the Edomites (version in 2 Chronicles is greatly expanded, with anecdotes about prophets). .8-14//.17-24: challenges Jehoash of Israel to battle and is defeated and Jerusalem sacked. .15-16: death of Jehoash of Israel and summary of his reign. .17-20//.25-28: Amaziah is assassinated in a conspiracy; summary of his reign. .21-22/726.1-2: Azariah (Uzziah) made king of Judah; restores Elath (Eloth) to Judah. 2 Kgs 14.23-29: Jeroboam becomes king of Israel; restores territory from Lebo-hamath to the sea of Arabah, including Damascus and Hamath, according to the word of Jonah.

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2 Kgs 15.1-7//2 Chron. 26.3-23: reign of Azariah (Uzziah) who is righteous but becomes a leper. 2 Kgs 15.8-12: Zechariah becomes king of Israel but is assassinated, as last of Jehu dynasty. 2 Kgs 15.13-15: Shallum reigns one month. 2 Kgs 15.16-22: Menahem is king over Israel; Pul of Assyria invades and Menahem gives him 10,000 talents. 2 Kgs 15.23-26: reign of Pekahiah of Israel. 2 Kgs 15.27-31: reign of Pekah of Israel; Tiglath-pileser invades and takes northern Israel. 2 Kgs 15.32-38//2 Chron. 27: reign of Jotham of Judah; attacked by Rezin of Aram and Pekah. 2 Kgs 16//2 Chron. 28: reign of Ahaz of Judah. .1-4//.1-4: theologizing summary of Ahaz's reign. .5-9//.5-19: Syro-Ephraimite war. .10-16//.20-27: Ahaz makes an altar like the one of Tiglath-pileser in Damascus. 2 Kgs 17: fall of Samaria. 1.1 Analysis of the Text Any modern historians worth their salt would immediately recognize that not all the material in the biblical text is of the same quality. First, leaving aside for the moment the long tradition of source and redaction criticism among biblical scholars, a careful reading of this lengthy stretch of text will still detect that along with narratives giving the impression of describing unfolding events are other sorts of material that look distinctly legendary. This especially applies to stories in which the chief protagonist is a prophet. Thus, whereas the reign of Omri is described succinctly and with the prima facie appearance of factuality, the reign of Ahab is dominated by stories about the prophets Elijah and Elisha. A second point that would be obvious to a modern historian is that here and there are theological summaries and that the overall perspective is one of theological judgment (e.g., the success and failure of kings is according to whether they have been 'righteous' or 'wicked' according to the religious code of the writer).2 In fact, if we look carefully at the material stretching from 1 Kings 16 to 2 Kings 17, we see few passages of any length that seem to be staightforward narratives. On the contrary, the whole section is dominated by prophetic stories or theological interests. For example, an entire chapter is devoted to the reign of Joash of Judah (2 Kings 12), yet most of the space concerns how money was collected for the repair of the house of Yhwh. There is little from 1 Kings 17 to 2 Kings 9 that does not relate to Elijah and Elisha. Much of 2. Moral judgment on rulers is not in itself unusual in ancient writings, including the Greek historians. Nevertheless, it would be noticeable to a modern historian and would need to be taken account of. See further the discussion and the secondary studies cited in Grabbe 2001.

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this long section of 15 chapters is a series of prophetic stories and anecdotes. Some of these relate to national events, but a good deal is purely focused on the doings of the prophet.

2. Archaeology One of the most controversial but also potentially important developments is Israel Finkelstein's 'Low Chronology' (LC). His original study (Finkelstein 1996) argued that conventional chronology is based on the twin pillars of the stratigraphy of Megiddo and the Philistine Bichrome Ware. Since then the debate has widened considerably to take in radiocarbon dating, correlation with the Aegean, the context of the Assyrian expansion in the ninth century, and other factors. A major opponent of the LC has been Amihai Mazar (2005), who has developed what he calls the 'Modified Conventional Chronology' (MCC). This is similar to the traditional chronology but extends the Iron IIA from 980 to 830, i.e., covering most of both the tenth and the ninth centuries. This allows three major pottery periods (Iron IB, Iron IIA, Iron HB), each lasting about 150 years, in the 450 years between approximately 1150 and 700 BCE. The following are some of the main issues around which the arguments - pro and con - have revolved: 1. The biblical data. Finkelstein points out that conventional dating is strongly - if not always explicitly - influenced by the biblical text (e.g., 2005a: 34). This sometimes leads to circular arguments in which the argument depends on the biblical text and moves around to arguing that the data support the biblical text. A good example is Shoshenq's invasion (see next point). Yet all parties have appealed to the biblical text in the discussion of the two key sites of Samaria and Jezreel (Ussishkin below pp. 293-309; Finkelstein 2005a: 36-8). 2. The invasion of Shoshenq. This event has been a central benchmark for dating historical and archaeological data, yet the dating of when it happened has depended on the biblical text, since 1 Kings 14.25-28 puts it in the fifth year of Rehoboam (Finkelstein 1996: 180). A recent Egyptological evaluation has dated the event to 917 BCE (Shortland 2005). Yet this is not the end of the matter, because it is not clear exactly what sort of measures were taken by Shoshenq. It had been assumed that his invasion resulted in widespread destruction of sites, but it has been argued that if Shoshenq planned to use Megiddo as the place to plant his royal stela, he would hardly have destroyed the site (Ussishkin below p. 304). In fact, it 'has not been proven that any sites were destroyed by Shishak in 925 B.C.E., and the attribution of destruction layers to the end of the tenth century at many sites is mere conjecture' (Barkay 1992: 306-7). 3. Implications for the Aegean and other Mediterranean areas. N. Coldstream (2003: 256) argues that the LC best fits the situation in

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the Aegean, but A. Mazar (2004) stands against this. Yet Killebrew (forthcoming) also relates the situation in Philistia to the broader Mediterranean pottery context and agrees that the LC 'with some minor revisions' would best fit the situation elsewhere in the Mediterranean: see next point. 4. The development and dating of Philistine Monochrome and Bichrome pottery. It seems to be generally agreed that Philistine Monochrome (or Mycenaean IIIC:lb or Mycenaean IIIC Early to Middle) appears in the late twelfth century, developing from imported Mycenaean IIIC:la (Mycenaean IIIC Early or Late Helladic IIIC Early). Egyptian dynasty XX and the Egyptian presence in Palestine came to an end about 1140/1130 (Mazar forthcoming a). Yet no Philistine Monochrome ware appears together with Egyptian pottery of the XXth dynasty, not even in nearby sites such as Tel Batash and Tel Mor, which suggests that Philistine Monochrome is post-1135 BCE, and the Philistine Bichrome is even later - the eleventh and perhaps much of the tenth century but not before 1100 BCE (Finkelstein 1995 218-20, 224; 2005a: 33). A. Mazar (forthcoming b) responds: (1) Canaanite pottery assembly in Ashdod XIII and Tel Miqne is typical of the thirteenth and beginning of the twelfth centuries BCE, and Lachish VI must have been contemporary; (2) local Mycenaean IIIC is inspired by the Mycenaean IIIC pottery in Cyprus but this disappears after the mid-twelfth century; (3) although D. Ussishkin and Finkelstein claim it is inconceivable that locally made Mycenaean IIIC did not reach contemporary sites in Philistia and the Shephelah, this ignores cultural factors that could limit it to a few urban centres; the early stage of Philistine settlement lasted perhaps only a generation, and Lachish is at least 25 km from the major Philistine cities which is sufficient to create a cultural border; (4) the Philistine settlement was possible perhaps because of the state of the Egyptian domination of Canaan at this time, and Philistine Bichrome pottery slowly emerged as a hybrid style later, probably during the last quarter of the twelfth century. Yet in a thorough study of the Aegean-style pottery A. E. Killebrew (forthcoming) argues that the high chronology (two-wave theory) would date the Philistine Monochrome (Mycenaean IIIC:lb) to about 1200 BCE as the result of an early proto-Philistine wave of Sea Peoples while the middle chronology would date this pottery to about 1175 BCE, with the Bichrome developing from it in the mid-twelfth. Such datings are becoming more problematic in light of the increasing consensus that Mycenaean IIIC:lb should be equated to Mycenaean IIIC Early (into Middle) which is dated to the mid-twelfth. With some revisions (such as dating the initial appearance of Mycenaean IIIC Early phase 2 to about 1160 BCE), the low chronology would best fit the dating of Mycenaean IIIC Early to Middle at other sites in the eastern Mediterranean and would also provide a more reasonable

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dating of Bichrome to the eleventh continuing into the tenth, based on the LB II-Iron I stratigraphic sequences at both Tel Miqne and Ashdod. Pottery assemblages and the dating of various strata. Here there is a surprising difference of interpretation between professional archaeologists whom one would expect to agree about the facts in the ground: the relationship between the strata in the sites of Razor, Samaria, Jezreel, and Megiddo; the interpretation of Jerusalem; the dating of Lachish; the dating of the Negev destruction. See below for some further discussion of these. The gap in the ninth century. Current dating leaves a strange gap in the ninth century in the dating of archaeological remains (Finkelstein 1996). We have much in the tenth and the eighth centuries but not the ninth, leaving a very thin stratigraphy over 350 yrs. For example, Tel Miqne and Tel Batash have thick accummulations related to Philistine Bichrome Ware, a ninth-century gap, then limited Iron II remains. Other sites show a similar gap: Tell Halif, Tel Mor, Tell Beit Mirsim, Ashdod, Tel Haror, Gezer, Jerusalem. The LC closes the unexplained gap between monumental architectures supposedly of the tenth century and evidence of public administration for the late ninth to the eighth centuries BCE. Downgrading or elimination of the United Monarchy. The monuments previously associated with the United Monarchy are redated from the second half of the tenth century to the early ninth. It strips the United Monarchy of its monumental buildings, including ashlar masonry and proto-Ionic columns. We have evidence of fortifications in the tenth century, but the main mounds in the north (Megiddo and Gezer) and the south (Beersheba and Lachish) only date to the ninth century or later. This means that the strong and historically attested Omri kingdom is the first state in Palestine and preceded the geographically weaker Judah. Taking a global perspective, this is what one would expect rather than the anomalous Jerusalem-centred and Judahdominated kingdom of David and Solomon. Radiocarbon dates. This is the most recent attempt to find a way to pin down the matter of dating and has great potential. Yet a database of radiometric dates from a wide variety of sites is needed; such is now being developed and may resolve the issue (Sharon et al. 2005; Sharon et al. forthcoming). In the meantime, there are significant differences in interpretation. The reasons for this have been well laid out by A. Mazar (2005: 22): The many stages of selecting the samples, the pre-treatment, the method and process of dating, and the wide standard deviation of Accelerator Mass Spectrometry dates may create a consistent bias, outliers, or an incoherent series of dates. The calibration process adds further problems, related to the nature of the calibration curve in each period. In our case, there are two difficulties: one is the many wiggles and the shape of the curve for the

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Ahab Agonistes 12th-llth centuries BCE. This leads to a wide variety of possible calibrated dates within the 12th-llth centuries BCE. The other problem is the plateau between 880 and 830 BCE, and the curve relating to the last third of the 10th century BCE, which in certain parts is at the same height as the 9th century BCE plateau. In many cases the calibrated dates of a single radiocarbon date is in both the 10th and the 9th centuries BCE, and in the 9th century BCE more precise dates between 880 and 830 BCE are impossible. These limitations are frustrating, and make close dating during this time frame a difficult task. It seems that in a debate like ours, over a time-span of about 80 years, we push the radiometric method to the edges of its capability, and perhaps even beyond that limit.

The result is that a variety of radiocarbon dates have been made at key sites, with some arguing that they support the MCC (Mazar 2005: 22-3; Mazar et al. 2005); and others, that they support the LC (Finkelstein/Piasetzky 2003; Piasetzky/Finkelstein 2005; Finkelstein 2005b; Sharon et al. 2005; Sharon et al. forthcoming). Because of the debate over chronology, the following archaeological survey will attempt as far as possible to refer to archaeological periods (Iron I, Iron IIA, Iron IIB) rather than specific dates.3 The stratigraphic and chronological framework for the Iron Age in Palestine is based on several key sites: Megiddo, Lachish, Jerusalem, and Samaria (Ussishkin forthcoming a). Jerusalem is probably the most contested site of all those in the whole of Palestine. It is vital for the period covering the so-called 'United Monarchy'. The question of whether there was a United Monarchy is not strictly relevant for this paper, which begins with a period of time well into the 'Divided Monarchy'; yet the 'United Monarchy' is relevant in certain ways because of disputes over the interpretation of Jerusalem's archaeology. This means that comments will be made about Iron IIA, as well as IIB, since the former is dated to the ninth century according to the LC. Finally, as noted above, the invasion of Shoshenq has been used extensively to date specific sites with a destruction layer. Yet as Ussishkin suggests, Shoshenq's treatment of various sites may have differed; e.g., the stela erected in Megiddo suggests a site that he occupied rather than destroyed. If we begin with the site farthest north, the current excavators of Hazor have retained Y. Yadin's assignment of stratum X to the tenth century and stratum VIII to the Omride dynasty (Mazar forthcoming b). Although some 14 C dates contradict this, Mazar notes that it seems difficult to compress strata XB to VIII into 70 years in the ninth century, as required by the LC (see Finkelstein's response in 2005a: 38). The conventional view equates Megiddo VA-IVB, Hazor X, Gezer VIII, and Beersheba V - all seen as evidence for the United Monarchy (Finkelstein 1996: 177). Thus, according to Mazar (forthcoming b), Yadin's thesis of Solomonic architecture at the three sites 3. Note that the LC and MCC coincide from the eighth and seventh centuries onward (Finkelstein 1999a: 39). It is generally agreed that Iron IIB ends, and Iron EC (or, as some prefer, Iron IE) begins, with the fall of Samaria and/or invasion of Sennacherib (c. 720/701 BCE). See the charts in Mazar 2005; cf. Ofer 2001: 30-1.

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(Megiddo, Hazor, and Gezer) might still be correct. Finkelstein (1999b: 59) argues, however, that Yadin's equation of Hazor X with the time of Solomon creates chaos with strata IX, VIII, and VII, leaving no place for the important activities of Hazael in northern Israel. A. Zarzeki-Peleg's study of the pottery assemblages connects Megiddo VIA with Jokneam XVII, while Hazor XB is later (1997: 284). Thus, Finkelstein (1999b: 60) argues, Hazor X was built by the Omrides. The Lower Galilee and the Jezreel Valley contained sites that were key to Israel in this period. Jezreel was the second main urban site in Samaria, alongside the city of Samaria. There is evidence that, like Samaria, it was already settled in the tenth century BCE, before Omride rule (Zimhoni 1997; Ussishkin/Woodhead 1997: 68). The excavations there have suggested a new correlation with other contemporary sites at Megiddo and Taanach. Although it is not certain, the city gate seems to be of a six-chambered variety (Ussishkin/ Woodhead 1997: 69; Ussishkin 2000: 248-50). This phase of Jezreel seems to be contemporary with Megiddo VA-IVB, with both destroyed at the same time; however, Ussishkin (below pp. 302-4) argues that Megiddo VA-IVB was constructed earlier, though not long before, and was taken by Shoshenq I (though only occupied by him, not destroyed). Based on the biblical narrative the main settlement is usually ascribed to the Omrides (1 Kings 18.45; 21.1), but it did not last long, perhaps being destroyed in Jehu's revolt (c. 842 BCE), but more likely by Hazael in the late ninth century (Ussishkin below p. 304; Na'aman 1997a: 125-7). (For N. Franklin's views on Megiddo, Jezreel, and Samaria, see below.) Samaria is a critical site because its founding is directly associated with a historical event known from the Bible (1 Kgs 16.23-28). R. Tappy (1992; 2001) found, however, that the interpretation and dating methods used by K. Kenyon were flawed. D. Ussishkin (below pp. 295-96) points out that Omri's Palace and Inner Wall (Wall 161) belong to Kenyon's Pottery Period I, and Casemate Wall, Ostraca Building, and the building in the centre to Pottery Period II (though Franklin dates the Inner Wall to Period II). Structures in Pottery Period I continued in use in Pottery Period II. Since Ussishkin thinks the 'floors' are layers of natural soil, not laid floors, he argues that the structures of Periods I and II are all contemporary and built according to a single scheme and orientation. The dating of the acropolis is based primarily on the biblical evidence, with its construction assumed to be during the reigns of Omri and Ahab. That it was a sort of capital of the Omride kings is shown by the monumental architecture, as well as numerous Hebrew ostraca of an administrative nature and also Phoenician ivory carvings. Building on Tappy's insights N. Franklin (2004; 2005; forthcoming a) has come up with a radically new interpretation of the remains from Samaria. The use of Samaria as a chronological anchor is based on the biblical narrative. Building Period 0 is the earliest, including primarily rock-cut cisterns and associated wine and oil preparation areas. Two rock-cut tombs have been identified as tombs of Omride kings below the Building Period I palace. In Franklin's view Building Period I covered all of the Omride dynasty and part

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of Jehu's. Building Period II consisted of a new regime during which time the summit of Samaria became a strictly administrative centre. A correlation between Megiddo VA-IVB and Samaria Building Period I is indicated by mason marks in situ at Megiddo and Samaria. Megiddo Palace 1723 and Samaria I palace use a .45 m Egyptian cubit. Both Megiddo VB-IVA and Samaria I, on the one hand, and Megiddo IVA and Samaria Building Period II, on the other, have architectural similarities. The ground plans of Megiddo IVA and Samaria n are laid out using the Assyrian cubit of .495 m. These considerations all show that Megiddo IVA and Samaria II building methods were very different from the previous strata. Thus Samaria Building Period II is not a sequential addition to Building Period I. Only Samaria I is dated to the ninth century. Finally, we come to the end of the Northern Kingdom. According to 2 Kings 17.5-6, 23-24, the Assyrians besieged Samaria for three years before taking it and deporting all the inhabitants of the kingdom to Mesopotamia, replacing them with peoples from Mesopotamia. From an archaeological point of view there are some problems with this scenario. There is no burn layer or other evidence of destruction for Samaria, raising questions about the 2 Kings 17.5-6 statement that Samaria was besieged three years. As for the displacement of peoples, A. Zertal (1989; 1990:12-14) has analysed the finds of a wedge-shaped decorated bowl from a confined area in the old territory of Manasseh. He argues that this pottery feature shows the settlement area of those Mesopotamians brought into Samaria in the late eighth century. This region, with Tell el-Far'ah (North) at its centre but with Samaria on its edge, is only a small part of the province of Samaria. If Zertal's analysis is accepted, the entire former kingdom of Samaria was not involved nor was the entire population deported. Zertal (1990: 82-3) estimates that the imported population was no more than a few thousand, and deportation affected not more than 10 per cent of the Israelite population, the vast majority of which continued to live in Samaria. How all this might relate to the text is discussed below (p. 87). Almost all the regions of Ephraim were intensively settled (Finkelstein 1988-9: 151-4). Compared with Iron I, the population had shifted west, with some of the large sites in the east abandoned: Shiloh, 'Ai, and Khirbit Raddana. Part of the reason seems to be the economic importance of horticulture, for which the slopes and foothills were better suited. Sufficient grain was grown in some regions, apparently, to allow the western regions to concentrate on the important wine and oil production. In the southern central range of the Ephraimite hills some sites were abandoned and a fall in the population generally in this region is probably to be explained by border conflicts and tensions between the Kingdom of Israel and the Kingdom of Judah. The population seems to have reached its peak in the mid-eighth century. With regard to the region of the Judaean Hills, we find a significant difference of opinion. Based on his survey results A. Ofer (2001; 1994) argued that from the mid-eleventh to the eighth century the population nearly doubled in each century. In the ninth century this included 66 settlements

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covering 50 hectares; in the eighth, 88 settlements covering 90 hectares, which would mean a population of about 22,000-23,000. To Iron IIA (a single identifiable ceramic stage) are to be assigned Tel Qasileh XI-IX, Izbet-Sartah II-I, Beersheba VIII-VI, Tel Edar III-II, Arad XII-XI (Ofer 2001: 30-1). We see the beginning of settlement in the pasture areas, and the first inhabitants of the desert fringe sites (e.g., Tekoah, ha-Qain, Ma'on, Carmel). The Shephelah only began to be populated at this date. In Iron IIB we witness an impressive growth of settlement numbers in the whole area of Judah. This includes strata FV-III of Lachish and the parallel strata in other sites. The Shephelah (with about 2,500 settled dunams) and Benjamin overshadow the Judaean highlands. This ends, of course, with the massive destruction by Sennacherib in all areas south and west of Jerusalem. Some of Ofer's interpretation has been challenged. G. Lehmann (2003) criticized Ofer's survey from a methodological point of view (citing a recent publication of A. Faust). He noted that deciding between the conclusions of Ofer and Faust was currently impossible because the political situation prevented the necessary testing. Nevertheless, Lehmann went on to argue,in contrast to Ofer, for a much smaller settled area and a population more like 10,000 maximum in Iron I and 16,000 in Iron IIA Judah (including Jerusalem). The built-up area of the Shephelah was twice as large as Judah in Iron I and perhaps even three times as large in Iron IIA (2003: 134). Yet Z. Herzog and L. Singer-Avitz (2004: 220) critiqued Lehmann for nevertheless accepting too many of Ofer's data without question, though their study confirmed the view that the highlands of Judah (including Jerusalem - see below) were relatively sparsely settled, in contrast to the lowlands. From a broader perspective the population density of the Judaean Hills was significantly less than the areas to the north. Ofer (1994: 107) notes the difference between the results of the Judaean Hills survey and those of the Manasseh hill country and the Land of Ephraim surveys. In Iron I Ephraim and Manasseh were four times that of the Judaean Hills, and twice that in Iron IIA. Penetration into the desert fringe and an increase in the population of the southern regions of the Judaean Hills in general characterized the Iron IIA (Ofer 1994: 104). The settlement peak came about the eighth century (Ofer 1994: 105). This all suggests that developments in the central territory of Judah lagged significantly behind those of the north, which has implications for evaluating state development in general and the United Monarchy in particular. As noted above, Jerusalem is probably the most contested site in Palestine. The main question is what kind of a settlement Jerusalem was in Iron IIA: was it a minor settlement, perhaps a large village or possibly a citadel but not a city, or was it the capital of a flourishing - or at least an emerging - state? Assessments differ considerably, with Ussishkin, Finkelstein, Steiner, Herzog, and Singer-Avitz supporting a minimal settlement; but many (including A. Mazar and, especially, Cahill) arguing for the latter. D. W. Jamieson-Drake (1991) was one of the first who queried the status of Jerusalem, concluding that it did not have the characteristics of a capital city, including monumental

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architecture, until the eighth century BCE. Jamieson-Drake has been much criticized for lacks in his data, but it seems that he was right as far as he went, though he gave an incomplete description (Steiner 2001: 284). J. M. Cahill (2003; 2004) has been one of the most vociferous voices arguing for a substantial city as early as the tenth century. She dates the 'Stepped Stone Structure' to the Late Bronze/early Iron transition, arguing that both the stepped mantle and the terraces below it were built together as a single architectural unit (Cahill 2003: 42). The fortification wall built during the Middle Bronze remained standing and was repaired and used until the Iron IIB (2003: 71). Cahill summarizes her conclusions for the tenth century (2004: 20): My own view is that the archaeological evidence demonstrates that during the time of Israel's United Monarchy, Jerusalem was fortified, was served by two complex watersupply systems and was populated by a socially stratified society that constructed at least two new residential quarters - one located inside and the other located outside the city's fortification wall.

Reinforcing Cahill's interpretation, it has recently been argued that a building at the top of the Stepped Stone Structure dates to David's time and could be his palace (E. Mazar 2006), though the proper archaeological details have not been published; however, acceptance of her interpretation is by no means universal, if conversations with other archaeologists are anything to go by. As described by Steiner (2001; 2003a; 2003b), Jerusalem of the tenth and ninth centuries was a small town occupied mainly by public buildings, not exceeding 12 hectares and approximately 2,000 inhabitants. It exhibits the characteristics of a regional administrative centre or the capital of a small, newly established state, the towns of Megiddo, Hazor, Gezer, and Lachish showing similar characteristics at the same time. Excavations on the Ophel show the earliest buildings there date only from the ninth century. E. Mazar had argued that the fortified complex of this area south of the Temple Mount had been constructed as early as the ninth century, but they more likely date between the eighth and the early sixth centuries BCE (Killebrew 2003: 336). A. E. Knauf (2000) argues that the centre of the Davidic city has not been found because it would have been the area north of the Ophel, the area of the Temple Mount. Although it is not possible to test this hypothesis now, that section of the hill was a militarily strategic area and would have had to be incorporated into any settlement on the southeastern hill. The argument that the Middle Bronze wall was used as a city wall in the LB, Iron I, and Iron IIA and IIB has no support; Jerusalem lacked a fortification wall until the mideighth century (Killebrew 2003: 334). From the late eighth century there is plenty of evidence for Jerusalem as a major urban centre. The building of the 'Broad Wall' indicates the settlement of the south-west hill in the later eighth century (Geva 2003: 187-9, 198-9). Recent excavations near the Gihon Spring have yielded some results that have been dated to the eighth century BCE (Reich/Shukron/Lernau forthcoming). A house was built in an abandoned pool, with the floor level

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created by fill presumably taken from the immediately surrounding area. The pottery from this fill was different from other Late Iron pottery found in the area in a decade of digging: this pottery was more like Lachish IV or at least the early eighth century BCE and possibly the late ninth (a final verdict awaits completion of the sifting process). Four scaraboid seals, two scarabs, and fragments of approximately 75 clay bullae bearing impressions were found (probably the remains from documents that had been unsealed). All are anepigraphic, but motifs include pseudo-hieroglyphs, proto-Ionic capitals, winged suns, winged griffins, and an almost complete Phoenician ship. Overall, the collection points to the Phoenician realm. The large number of bullae and the seals, plus a 15-holed plaque (apparently a scribal device with a time-keeping function), point to a nearby administrative centre in the late ninth century. It might be that this shows the introduction of record-keeping and bureaucracy into Judah directly or indirectly through the services of the Omride kingdom (with its Phoenician connections). In the Shephelah Y. Dagan (2004: 2680-1) concluded that in Iron IIA and IIB the sites developed slowly as the process of Judaean settlement began, with 731 sites in Iron IIB. These included many 'dispersed' and 'isolated' structures, a situation unknown in earlier periods, indicating a period of stability. The properity of the period reached its zenith in the eighth century. This was brought to an end by Sennacherib, with much destruction in the Shephelah and a large part of it apparently annexed to the Philistine cities. With regard to the central site of Lachish, it was rebuilt after a long habitation gap in Iron I (Ussishkin 2004: I, 76-87). Although little remains of this city (level V), the inhabitants seem to be a new people with a new material culture. Some have wanted to date level V to the tenth century and connect it with the invasion of Shoshenq, but the latter's inscription does not mention Lachish (nor any place in Judah proper except Arad), nor has any destruction layer been uncovered. Based on O. Zimhoni's study of the pottery (2004: IV, 1707) Ussishkin dated level IV to the mid-ninth century BCE and level V to the first half of the ninth. (This incidentally supports the LC, but Ussishkin notes that the interpretation is not conclusive.) If Lachish V dates to the ninth, Rehoboam could not have fortified the site (2 Chron. 11.5-12, 23) nor would Shoshenq have destroyed it. The city of level IV was a military stronghold, apparently constructed as part of a government scheme. Ussishkin argues that it could have been erected only by a fully developed kingdom of Judah, which also shows that the beginnings of a large metropolis of Jerusalem (known from the eighth century) must be rooted in the ninth. Lachish level IV came to a sudden end, apparently in earthquake since there is no evidence of fire or human destruction (cf. Amos 1.1; Zech. 14.5; 2 Kgs 14.19). This can be compared with the end of Beersheba IV and Arad XI (see below). The sites most uncontroversially associated with the campaign of Shoshenq are found in the Negev. The 'Greater Arad' of Shoshenq is generally agreed to be Tel Arad (Finkelstein 1999a: 38-9). Arad has been much debated over the years, with later studies substantially disagreeing with the original excavator's. Stratum XI had been identified with Shoshenq's invasion, but

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Zimhoni (1985) and A. Mazar and E. Netzer (1986) concluded that XI must be later than the tenth century, which would make stratum XII the Shoshenq level. The latest excavator Z. Herzog (2001; 2002: 58-72) agrees with this. Thus Arad XI and Beersheba V (with the first Iron Age fortifications in Judah) must be in the ninth century. Herzog associates strata XI-VI with the Iron II period. Much controversy has centred around the temple on the site. The building of the temple's intial stage was associated with stratum X, which now needs to be dated to the eighth century; the second phase, with stratum IX (the stela and incense altars were used with this phase); the devir in stratum VIII. Much of strata VII and VI were removed by Hellenistic and Roman builders. Considerable changes took place in the Beersheba Valley and region during the ninth and eighth centuries (Herzog 2002: 94-9). The climate worsened at the beginning of the ninth century, which made cultivation much more difficult in this marginal region. This seems to have coincided with the establishment of a regional administrative-military centre in place of the agricultural settlements, taking in Arad XI, Beersheba V, Tel Masos I, and Tel Malhata. The population of the area nevertheless appears to have remained much the same, no more than about 1,000. A major cultural shift took place between the ninth and eighth centuries, with a completely different pottery assemblage for Arad X-VIII and Beersheba III-II. The massive fortifications of Beersheba IV and Arad XI were razed to the ground, followed by a much weaker replacement build (Herzog and Singer-Avitz 2004: 230). If the initial destruction was caused by enemy action, the replacement defences would have attempted to be at least as strong as those that had stood there before. Hence, a natural disaster such as an earthquake seems to be the cause. In the eighth century Tel 'Ira VII was resettled, and fortresses were built at Kadesh Barnea and Tell el-Kheleifeh. The settled area was twice that of the ninth century. There is also evidence for Beersheba as a 'gateway community' (supply station) for the trade route(s) from Arabia at this time (Singer-Avitz 1999). 2.1 Analysis There is wide agreement that Arad XII and related Negev sites are to be related to Shoshenq's invasion (Mazar forthcoming a; forthcoming b). The use of Shoshenq's list of cities provided a chronological anchor of crucial importance (Ussishkin forthcoming a). Albright's assumption that Shoshenq destroyed the whole country has been widely accepted, but his actions might have been varied: the erection of a royal stela at Megiddo shows that Shoshenq aimed to hold the city, not destroy it. Thus, his list is useless as a secure archaeological and chronological anchor, the only possible exception being Arad XII. If Arad XII dates to the second half of the tenth century and not later, this affects the dating of Lachish V, Tel Beit Mirsim B, and Tel Beersheba VII; however, Ussishkin (forthcoming a) has some doubts about the reliability even of this synchronization. The main advantage of the 'low chronology' is that it closes the 'Dark Age' of the ninth century (Finkelstein 1996: 184-5). Its main disadvantage is that

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it changes the entire understanding of the emergence of the Israelite state. The monuments previously associated with the United Monarchy are redated from the second half of the tenth century to the early ninth. The 'low chronology' forces reconsideration of several issues relating to the archaeology of protoIsrael. In the hill country settlements of the tenth century are not much different from those of the eleventh; thus, the real transformation came about 900 BCE rather than about 1000 BCE, which has consequences for a united monarchy. In the northern highlands this tranformation brought significant growth in the number and size of sites and expansion into new frontiers and niches, while the the southern highlands were only sparsely settled in early Iron II. 'Accepting the Low Chronology means stripping the United Monarchy of monumental buildings' (Finkelstein 1996: 185). According to Finkelstein (1999b: 39) many of the strata dated to the eleventh century should now be the tenth (Megiddo VIA, Beth-shean Upper VI, Tel Hadar IV, Jokneam XVII, Beersheba VII, Arad XII). Important for our purposes are those redated to the ninth century according to the LC: Megiddo VA-IVB, Beersheba V, Arad XI. Those strata dated to the eighth and seventh centuries are not affected. The main mounds in both the north and the south (Megiddo, Gezer, Beersheba, Lachish) would be dated to the ninth century BCE or even later. Although inscribed seals and impressions are known from the mid-ninth century, they are mainly found in the eighth century onwards. Finally, the LC closes the unexplained gap between the monumental architecture traditionally assigned to the tenth century and the evidence of public administration for which we have clues in the late ninth to the eighth. In sum, the tenth century is closer to the previous period than to the Iron II; the real revolution came in the ninth century, more in the north than the south. The line between Iron I and Iron II came in the early ninth century rather than about 1000 BCE. The kingdom of David and Solomon would have been a chiefdom or early state but without monumental construction or advanced administration (cf. the early Ottoman Turks or Shechem in Amarna age). Mazar's MCC seems to have been fairly widely accepted, but its extended Iron IIA spanning both the tenth and ninth centuries means that 'it would make the position of those who wish to utilize archaeology for secure historical interpretation of the 10th-9th centuries BCE harder to sustain' (Mazar forthcoming a; cf. forthcoming b). It also means that events that were dated to the tenth century in conventional chronology - and which the LC dates to the ninth century - are left unspecific in the MCC. Ussishkin (forthcoming a) has expressed his pessimism about resolving the issues about chronology by normal archaeological methods, referring to the ambiguity of clear stratigraphic evidence in many sites, and the difficulty of comparing pottery from different regions of the country. Hence there are possibilities for different interpretations and different chronologies. In my view, as long as no new additional data are available it would be impossible to solve the chronological differences being debated at present.

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He goes on to refer to radiocarbon dating, a 'method that has been enthusiastically adopted' by some scholars on both sides of the debate, but 'this method is far from providing conclusive and perfect results', for 'the interpretation of the same 14C tests can be fitted to different ideologies' (Ussishkin forthcoming a). As quoted above, Mazar has noted the problems with radiocarbon dating but, nevertheless, refers to the results that he feels support his case. It may be that radiocarbon data will lead to a resolution or partial resolution of the debate, but this is likely to be only after a substantial database has been established (Sharon et al. 2005). These chronological issues are occasioning considerable debate at the moment - even passionate excesses of rhetoric in some quarters - no doubt in part because they are central to the question of the United Monarchy. But rhetoric and emotion too frequently go much further than evidence, and the issue is unlikely to be resolved in the near future. Whatever one's viewpoint, we all have to accept that the LC might turn out to be right, wholly or in part. In spite of optimistic statements about 'nails in its coffin', the LC is still a viable option in the light of present data. However, one could in theory accept the MCC or even the high chronology without accepting the United Monarchy. Unfortunately, this makes interpreting the archaeology of the Omride and Jehu dynasties fraught with uncertainties. Another conclusion (only partially divorced from the chronology debate) is the difference between the development in northern Palestine as contrasted with southern Palestine. This was largely due to geographical factors: topography, geology, soil, rainfall, climate in general. The northern region, both the hill country and the lowlands, was much more suited to settlement, farming, and fertility in general. The region of Judah was less fertile, had a lower density of population, and developed economically more slowly than Samaria. When one considers the tongue duree, it would have been extraordinary for the Judaean highlands to dominate the north in the Iron I or IIA. A number of archaeologists argue that the archaeology does not support the text which depicts a Judaean-Highland-centred United Monarchy. Those who do argue for archaeological support for the United Monarchy generally do so by explicit - or implicit - appeal to the text as the guide for interpreting the archaeology. Jerusalem remains an area of considerable controversy, but those who maintain that Jerusalem did not develop into a substantial city until Iron IIB have current archaeology on their side (though the building recently found by E. Mazar has intriguing possibilities). Those who maintain an earlier development must argue on the basis of what is presumed to have disappeared or what might be found in the future. This is why a substantial argument is now made that the Northern Kingdom (in the form of the Omride dynasty) was the prior development to a state in the ninth century, with Judah coming along more slowly, reaching its height only in the eighth century. But the debate continues. The archaeology does confirm some textual hints at outside influences (Phoenicia, Syria, Neo-Hittite) on the Northern Kingdom (Barkay 1992: 306,

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335-8). Most basic was Cypro-Phoenician pottery (Barkay 1992: 338). The ivories found in Samaria and elsewhere tend to be seen as showing Phoenician influence (Barkay 1992: 320-3). Many of the monumental and administrative buildings in the north appeared to be influenced by bit-f?ilani architecture known earlier from Syria (Reich 1992: 202-6; Barkay 1992: 310). Ashlar masonry (including the paving of square areas) and proto-Aeolic capitals are also often thought to be Phoenician imports (Stern 1992: 302-5). 3. Phoenician History of Menander of Ephesus Unfortunately, we have little historical material on Phoenicia, and what little there is comes mainly from classical writers. Menander of Ephesus is alleged to have written a Phoenician History using ancient records. A relevant passage for purposes of this paper is the following: This rainless time is also mentioned by Menander in his account of the acts of Ithobalos, the king of Tyre, in these words: 'There was a drought in his reign, which lasted from the month of Hyperberetaios until the month of Hyperberetaios in the following year. But he made supplication to the gods, whereupon a heavy thunderstorm broke out. He it was who founded the city of Botrys in Phoenicia, and Auza in Libya.' This, then, is what Menander wrote, referring to the drought which came in Achab's reign, for it was in his time that Ithobalos was king of Tyre.4

There are many questions: What was his source? Was it a genuine Phoenician one or simply another Greek writer? Was the source (if there was one) in Greek or Phoenician? Who made the connection with the father of Jezebel, Josephus or his source? A Phoenician sarcophagus inscription from Byblos may have some useful information: The sarcophaguus that 'Ittoba'l, son of 'Ahirom, the king of Byblos, made for 'Ahirom, his father, when he placed him in eternity.5

Exactly when to date this can only be guessed at. The name of the son is the same as the father of Jezebel, but was this only a common name for Phoenician kings? This individual is king of Byblos, not Tyre, though Sidon may have been a general term for 'Phoenician' for outside writers at the time.

4. 5.

Quoted by Josephus, Ant. 8.13.2 §324 (translation from Loeb Classical Library). Translation from CoS H, 181 (text 2.55).

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Ahab Agonistes 4. Aramaic and Moabite Inscriptions

4.1 Tel Dan Perhaps one of the most interesting texts is the one recently found at Tel Dan, which already has a considerable bibliography.6 The following is my reading of the first fragment found in 1993 (Biran/Naveh 1993) with a minimum of reconstruction: ] my father went up [ my father lay down (died?). He went to [ Is-] rael earlier in the land. My father [ (or 'in the land of my father') I-Hadad went before me [ x my king. And I killed of [them chari-] ot and thousands (or 2,000) of riders [ king of Israel. And I kill[ed xx 'house of David' (bytdwd). And I set [ xx the land. They x[ another, and xxxx [ king over Is [rael siege over [

The second fragment (actually two fragments that fit together) does not clearly join onto the first, and the reconstruction based on putting the two together strikes me as purely speculative.7 I read the second fragment as follows, with little hypothetical reconstruction: ] and cut [ ] battle/fought against xx [ ]x and went up the king x [ ] and Hadad made king [ ] I went up from Sheva'/seven [ seven]ty tied/harnessed x[ ]rm son [ ]yahu son [

This inscription has been subject to a number of interpretations, some of which are quite compelling, but they rely generally on the reconstruction of the original editors. However, it does seem to me that in the last two lines above the restoration of 'J(eh)oram' is virtually certain, and of 'Ahaziah' quite reasonable. If so, this favours assigning the inscription to Hazael and the interpetations that follow from it.

6. For bibliography to the early twenty-first century, see Athas 2003. This can be supplemented with the bibliography in the contribution of I. Kottsieper in this volume. 7. See the arguments in Athas 2003: 175-91.

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4.2 Melqart Inscription The Melqart inscription is dated to the ninth or early eighth century BCE. A number of the older readings must now be discarded in the light of recent study:8 The stela which Bir-Ha[dad], son of 'Attar-hamek, king of Aram, set up for his lord Melqar[t] to whom he made a vow and who heard [his] voice.9

4.3 Zakkur Inscription The Zakkur Inscription is dated about 800 BCE.10 The monument which Zakkur, king of Hamath and Lu'ash, set up for El-wer [in Apish.] I am Zakkur, king of Hamath and Lu'ash. I was a man of 'Anah and Ba'lshamayn [raised] me and stood beside me, and Ba'lshamayn made me king over Hazrach. Then Bar-Hadad, son of Hazael, king of Aram, united against me s[even]teen kings: Bar-Hadad and his army, Bar-Gush and his army, the king of Que and his army, the king of 'Amuq and his army, the king of Gurgum and his army, the king of Sam'al and his army, the king of Meliz and his army [ ] seventeen], they and their armies. All these kings laid siege to Hazrach, they dug a ditch deeper than [its] ditch. Now I raised my hands to Ba'lshamayn and Ba'lshamayn answered me. Ba'lshamayn [spoke] to me through seers and diviners. Ba'lshamayn said to me, 'Do not be afraid! Since I have made [you king, I will stand] beside you. I will save you from all [these kings who] have besieged you.' [Ba'lshamayn] also said to [me,' ] all these kings who have [besieged you ] and this wall [ ].'

4.4 Mesha Stela The importance of the Mesha Stela or the Moabite stone has long been recognized. The exact date of the inscription is difficult because it depends largely on assumptions about the historical context. For purposes of this exercise, we cannot take that context for granted; however, the text is likely to date from the ninth or eighth century BCE. Only lines 1-9 are given here: I am Mesha, the son of Kemosh[-yatti], the king of Moab, the Dibonite. My father was king over Moab for thirty years, and I was king after my father. And I made this high-place for Kemosh in Karchoh, [. . .] because he has delivered me from all kings(?), and because he has made me look down on all my enemies. Omri was the king of Israel, and he oppressed Moab for many days, for Kemosh was angry with his land. And his son succeeded him, and he said - he too - 'I will oppress Moab!' In my days did he say [so], but I looked down on him and on his house, and Israel has gone to ruin, yes, it has gone to ruin for ever! And Omri had taken possession of the whole la[n]d of Medeba, and he lived there (in) his days and half 8. The following translation is that of Pitard (1988: 272); the lines of the translation do not exactly match those of the original inscription. 9. Pitard 1988: 272; cf. Puech 1992. 10. The following translation is taken from Millard's translation in CoS II, 155 (text 2.35).

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the days of his son, forty years, but Kemosh [restojred it in my days. And I built Baal Meon, and I made in it a water reservoir, and I built Kiriathaim.11

The historical implications are discussed in some detail below (pp. **). 5. Assyrian Sources12 In the Kurkh Monolith which details Shalmaneser Ill's campaign in his sixth year (853 BCE), he describes the force that met him after he had worked his way as far as Qarqar on the Orontes in northern Syria: 1200 chariots, 1200 cavalry, 20,000 footsoldiers of Adad-idri 'of Aram-Damascus ([sd KUR]-AN$E-sw)'; 700 chariots, 700 cavalry, 10,000 footsoldiers of Irhuleni, 'the Hamathite (KUR A-mat-a-a)'; 2,000 chariots [2 LIM GI§.GIGIR.ME§], 10,000 footsoldiers of Ahab (mA-ha-ab-bu) 'the Israelite (KUR Sir-'-la-a-a)' . . .; these 12 kings, he brought as his allies. They came against me to [wage] war and fight. In the exalted might which Ashur my lord gave me (and) with the strong weapons which Nergal, who goes before me, presented to me, I fought with them. I defeated them from Qarqar to Gilzau. I slew 14,000 of their soldiers with the weapons (and) rained, like the god Adad, the destructive flood upon them.13

The Baghdad Text and the Calah Annals14 indicate that the coalition continued to oppose the Assyrians successfully for many years: Shalmaneser's 10th year: opposed by Hadadezer of Damascus, Irfrulenu of Hamath, together with a coalition of twelve kings; 11th year: opposed by Hadadezer, Irhulenu, together with a coalition of twelve kings; 14th year: Shalmaneser has an army of 120,000; opposed by Hadadezer, Irliulenu, together with a coalition of twelve kings. However, in his 18th year, the situation is different (Assur Basalt Statue): I defeated Adad-idri of Damascus with 12 kings, his helpers, and laid down 29,000 of his brave fighters like reeds. The remainder of his army, I cast into the Orontes river. They fled to save their life. Adad-idri died. Hazael, son of a nobody [DUMU la mama-na], took the throne. He mustered his large army and came against me to wage war. I fought with him and defeated him (and) took off the wall of his camp. Hazael fled to save his own life. I pursued (him) as far as Damascus, his royal city.15

11. Translation that of K. A. D. Smelik from CoS H, 137 (text 2.23). The text has been translated many times. For some new interpretations of some passages, see also the translation in Lemaire 1994 and Lemaire's article below; also Na'aman's article below. 12. A good survey of all the main relevant Assyrian sources is given by Kuan 1995. 13. Translation from Yamada 2000: 156-7, 376. 14. Bagdhad Text: Grayson 1996: 32-41 (A.0.102.6); Calah Annals: Grayson 1996: 42-48 (A.0.102.8). 15. Translation from Yamada 2000: 188-9; cf. also Grayson 1996: 118 (A.0.102.40: i 14-35); ANET: 280.

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The Kurba'il Statue gives some similar information but also adds data not in the other inscriptions: In my eighteenth regnal year, I crossed the Euphrates for the sixteenth time, Hazael of Damascus trusted in the massed might of his troops; and he mustered his army in great numbers. He made Mount Saniru/Senir, a mountain peak, which (lies) opposite Mount Lebanon, his fortress. I fought with him. I decisively defeated him. I felled with the sword 16,000 of his men-of-arms. I took away from him 1,121 of his chariots, 470 of his cavalry, together with his camp. In order to save his life he ran away. I pursued after him. I confined him in Damascus, his royal city. I cut down his orchards. I marched to the mountains of Haurani. I razed, destroyed and burned cities without number. I marched to the mountains of Ba'li-ra'si at the side of the sea. I erected a statue of my royalty there. At that time I received the tribute of the Tyrians, the Sidonians, and Jehu (la-u-a), (the man) of Blt-Humri (Omri).16

On the designation of Jehu as DUMU mhu-um-ri-i, often translated as 'son of Omri', see below (p. 82). The Black Obelisk summarizes the 21st year (838 BCE): In my twenty-first regnal year, I crossed the Euphrates for the twenty-first time. I marched to the cities of Hazael of Damascus. I captured 4 of his fortified settlements. I received the tribute of the Tyrians, the Sidonians, and the Byblians.17

Shalmaneser's successor, Shamshi-adad V (823-811), had to deal with a rebellion that had begun under Shalmaneser III, and the west of the empire was more or less abandoned during his reign. As will be seen below, this left the opportunity for Damascus to have a free hand against its neighbours. The next king, Adad-narari III (810-783), had a long reign with important campaigns to both the east and the west. The dating of his campaigns is difficult. Apparently his military accomplishments marked a basic decline, with provincial governors and palace officials becoming relatively more important at the expense of king. His mother Sammuramat evidently had power in a way not normally associated with the Assyrian queen, though she seems not to have been co-ruler as was once thought. (It is widely thought that Samsi-adad and his mother formed the basis of the Nimrod and Semiramis legend.18) He renewed campaigns to Syria and the Mediterranean (c. 805-796), though the number of campaigns is uncertain. According to the el-Rimah Inscription, In one year I subdued the entire lands Amurru (and) Hatti. I imposed upon them tax (and) tribute forever. I (text 'he') received 2000 talents of silver, 1000 talents of copper, 2000 talents of iron, 3000 linen garments with multi-coloured trim - the

16. Translation from CoS H, 268; cf. also Grayson 1996: 60 (A.0.102.12: 21-30). 17. Translation from CoS H, 269; cf. also Grayson 1996: 67 (A.0.102.14: 102-4). 18. For a discussion of this legend, with citations of primary and secondary sources, see Grabbe 2003: 122-5.

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Ahab Agonistes tribute from Mari, the Damascene. I (text 'he') received the tribute of Joash (lu'asu), the Samaritan, (and) of the people of Tyre (and) Sidon.19

'Iu-'a-su of Samaria (Sa-me-ri-na-a-a) [var. land of Omri (Hu-um-ri-i)Y is almost certainly Joash of Israel.20 More difficult is Mari of Damascus. Mari can be simply the Aramaic title, 'my lord' rather than a personal name. It has been suggested that the Assyrians referred to the Aramaean leader by this term because they were uncertain as to who he was.21 The Arslan Tash ivory might suggest that this was Hazael: '[]xx 'm' to our lord (mr'n) Hazael in the year [of the takjing of H[].'22 A similar message is found on the Hazael booty inscriptions which seems to read something along the lines of the following: 'That which Hadad (?) gave to our lord (mr'n) Hazael from Umeq in the year that our lord crossed over the river'.23 Others, however, would identify Mari with Bar-Hadad son of Hazael.24 The Calah Inscription gives a similar picture: I subdued (the territory stretching) from the bank of the Euphrates, the land Hatti, the land Amurru in its entirety, Tyre, Sidon, Samaria (Humri), Edom, (and) Palastu, as far as the great sea in the west. I imposed tax (and) tribute upon them. I marched to Damascus. Mari, king of Damascus, I confined in Damascus, his royal city. The awesome brilliance of Assur, my (text 'his') lord, overwhelmed him, he submitted to me, and became my vassal.25

The Antakya Inscription is a boundary stone set up about 805-804 BCE by Adad-narari III, along with his chief minister in the west Samsi-ilu, to mark the boundary between Zakkur's and Atarsumki of Arpad's territories: The boundary which Adad-narari, king of Assyria, (and) Samsi-ilu, the field marshall, established between Zakur of the land of Hamat and Atarsumki, son of Adramu: the city opf Nahlasi with all its fields, gardens, [and] settlements is (the property) of Atarsumki. They divided the Orontes River between them. This is the border. Adadnarari, king of Assyria, (and) Samsi-ilu, the field marshall, have given it free and clear to Atarsumki, son of Adramu, to his sons, and his subsequent grandsons.26

The Pazarcik Stela was apparently once a boundary stone set up about 785 BCE:

19. Grayson 1996: 211 (A.0.104.7.4-8); cf. Page 1968: 143; ANET: 281-2. 20. See especially Weippert 1978, which corrects the view expressed by McCarter 1974 that luasu should be taken as Jehu. 21. Lipiriski 2000: 390-1. 22. Puech 1981: 544-62. 23. Ephal/Naveh 1989:192-200; also Lipiriski 2000: 388. The name in the Eretria horse blinder inscription seems to have a b as the last letter of the name, though this could be a scribal idiosyncracy. 24. Pitard 1987: 165-6; Millard/Tadmor 1973: 63 n. 22; Kuan 1995: 81 n. 46. 25. Grayson 1996: 212-13 (A.0.104.8.8-18). 26. Grayson (1996): 203^ (A.0.104.2. 4-10).

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When Uspilulume, king of the Kummuhites, caused Adad-narari, king of Assyria, (and) Semiramis, the palace woman, to cross the Euphrates; I fought a pitched battle with them - with Atarsumki, son of Adramu, of the city of Arpad, together with eight kings who were with him at the city of Paqarahiubunu. I took away from them their camp. To save their lives they dispersed.27

This episode is probably to be associated with the Zakkur inscription (above) which speaks of a coalition of 16 kings allied against Zakkur. The latter was able to fend them off by unspecified means, but the logical way was by seeking help from the Assyrians. The alliance defeated by Adad-narari may have been a part of, or connected with, the one against Zakkur.28 The next 40 years (782-745 BCE) are rather obscure in Assyrian history. The period seems to be characterized by weak rulers and strong officials. Military campaigns were not always led by the king, and there were non-campaign years. It was basically a time of contracting borders and major problems with Urartu, with the Assyrians losing their hold on the west. However, the tartanu (vice-regent) $amsi-ilu was an important figure in the region. The Mara§ Museum inscription describes how he took tribute from Damascus in the time of Shalmaneser IV (782-773 BCE): When §amsi-ilu, the field marshal, marched to Damascus, the tribute of Hadiiani, the Damascene - silver, gold, copper, his royal bed, his royal couch, his daughter with her extensive dowry, the property of his palace without number - I received from him (Hadiiani). On my return (from Damascus) I gave this boundary stone to Uspilulume, king of the Kummuhites.29

Tiglath-pileser III (744-727 BCE) was probably a usurper. His main task was to confront Urartu which he did in 735. Two further campaigns to the east brought him in contact with the Medes. He also spent a lot of time dealing with Babylon, taking back disputed border territory and invading the country to prop up Nabonassar (745). There were further invasions in 731 and 729 to drive out a Chaldean usurper, with the object of driving a wedge between the Babylonians and Chaldeans. Little building activity seems to have taken place because of the extensive campaigns. The three-fold system of vassalage was perfected under Tiglath-pileser. Campaigns to the west took place in 743, 738, and through the period 734-732. The Summary Inscription 1 (lines 20-23) describes a campaign against Saduri of Urartu and Mati'il of Arpad, apparently in 743 BCE: Sarduri, the Urartian, revolted against me, and with Mati'il he schemed (against me). In the lands of Kishtan and Halpi, districts of Kummuhu, I defeated him, and I seized his entire camp. He became frightened of my terrible weapons and slipped away to

27. Grayson 1996: 205 (A.0.104.3.7-15); cf. also Grayson 1996: 206-7 (A.0.104.4 and A.0.104.5) which seem to refer to a rebellion of Atarsumki and its suppression. 28. Cf. Kuan 1995: 91-3. 29. Grayson 1996: 240 (A.0.105.1.4-13).

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save his life. I enclosed him in Turushpa, his city, and inflicted a great defeat upon him before his city gates.30 Iran Stela I B (lines 21-25) describes the rebellion of Arpad in 743: In my third regnal year, Mati'il, [the son of A]tarshuqa, fomented a rebellion against Assyria and violated [his loyalty oath. To] the kings who [.. .] of Hatti... of Urartu, [he sent] hostile messages against Assyria and made the lands hos[tile]. Sarduri of Urartu, [Suluma]! of Meflid] and Tarhularu of Gurgum [came] to his aid.31 The city of Arpad fell in 740, after a three-year campaign, according to the Eponym Chronicle.32 Annals 19* (lines 9-11) mention the rebellion of Azriyau in 738 BCE: 19 districts of Hamath together with the cities of their environs, which are on the seacoast of the west, which in rebellion were seized for Azriyau, I annexed to Assyria. I placed two of my eunuchs over them as governors.33 This Azriyau was early identified with Azariah (=Uzziah) of Judah (2 Kgs 15.1-7), partly based on the mistaken assumption that another Assyrian inscription referred to 'Azriyau of Yaudi'.34 This identification has been largely abandoned, partly because Azriyau's country is not known and partly because the coalition led by Azriyau seems to be made up of states in the area of central and northern Syria.35 Iran Stele III A (lines 1-7, 17, 20-23) lists those who paid tribute about 739-738 BCE: The kings of the land of Hatti, (and of) the Aramaeans off the western seashore, the Qedarites (and) the Arabs: Kushtashpi of Kummah, Rezin of Damascus, Menahem of Samaria, Tuba'il of Tyre, Sibitba'il of Byblos . . . Panammu of [Sa]m'al. . . tribute of silver, gold, tin, iron, elephant hide, ivory, blue-purple and red-purple garments, multicoloured linen garments, dromedaries, she-camels I imposed upon them.36 Tiglath-pileser El's tribute list in the Calah Annals 13* and 14* tells of the tribute collected about 738-737 BCE (Annal 13*, lines 10 to 14*, line 5): The tribute of Kushtashpi of Kummuh, Rezin (Rahianu) of Damascus, Menahem of Samaria, Hiram of Tyre, Sibittibi'il of Byblos, Urikki of Que, Pisiris of Carchemish, Eni-il of Hamath, Panammu of Sam'al... I received.37 30. Tadmor 1994: 125 (Summary Inscription I, lines 20-23). 31. Tadmor 1994: 100-1. 32. This follows the text given in Kuan 1995: 136-8. 33. Tadmor 1994: 62-3. 34. See the discussion in Tadmor 1961; 1994: 273-4. 35. Cf. the discussion in Kuan 1995: 149 n. 57. 36. Tadmor 1994: 107, 109. See Kuan 1995: 149-53 for a discussion of the correct dating of this event. 37. Tadmor 1994: 69-71.

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Summary Inscription 4 (lines 7-20) describes the final destruction of Damascus and the change of king in Israel (ca. 732 BCE): the ent[ire] wide land of [Bit-Haza'i]li (Aram) I annexed to Assyria. [I plac]ed [x eunuchs over them] as governors. Hanunu of Gaza, [who] fle[d before] my weapons, (and) escaped [to] Egypt-Gaza [. . . his royal city, I conquered/entered] his property (and) his gods [I despoiled/seized. A (statue) bearing the image of the gods my lo]rds and my (own) royal image [out of gold I fashioned.] In the palace [of Gaza] I set (it) up (and) I counted it among the gods of their land; [their . . .] I established. As for [him (i.e. Hanunu), the fear of my majesty] overwhelmed him and like a bird he flew (back) [from Egypt] [...]! returned him to his position and his [. . . I turned into an Assyrian emporium. Gold,] silver, multi-coloured garments, linen garments, large [horses,]...[...]! received. The land of Bit-Humria (Israel), [... its] 'auxiliary army', [. . .] all of its people, [...]! carried off [to] Assyria. Peqah, their king [I/they killed and I installed Hoshea [as king] over them. 10 talents of gold, x talents of silver, [with] their [property] I received from them and [to Assyria I car]ried them. As for Samsi, the queen of the Arabs, at Mount Saqurri I defeated 9,400] (of her people).38

The actual siege of Damascus is described in Tiglath-pileser Ill's Calah Annals 23: 1' . . . of] Rezin [of Damascus . . . 2' heavy [booty I captured . . .], his advisor [. . . 3' [(by) the blood of his] war[riors the] river of [. . .], raging [torrent], 4' I dyed a reddish hue; [. . .], his courtiers, 5' charioteers and [. . .], their weapons I destroyed, and 6' ... their horses I [. . .]. His warriors, archers, 7' shield- and lance-bearers I captured, and their battle array 8' I dispersed. That (king of Damascus), in order to save his life, fled alone, and 9' entered the gate of his city [like] a mongoose. His chief ministers 10' I impaled alive and had his country behold them. For 45 days my camp 11' I set up around his city, and I cooped him up like a bird in a cage. His gardens, 12' [. . .] orchards without number I cut down; I did not leave a single one. 13' ... the town of . . .]hadara, the home of the dynasty of Rezin of Damascus, 14' [the pl]ace where he was born, I surrounded and captured. 800 people with their possessions 15' their cattle (and) their sheep I took as spoil. 750 captives from the cities of Kurussa 16' (and) Sama, 550 captives from Metuna I took, 591 cities 17' of the 16 districts of Damascus I destroyed like mounds of ruins after the Deluge.39

Summary Inscription 7 also tells us that Jehoahaz king of Judah (mla-u-hazi la-u-da-a+a) paid tribute about this time (reverse, lines 10'-12'): kur

38. Tadmor 1994: 138-41. 39. Tadmor 1994: 79-81.

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12' (and) Hanunu of Gaza . . .40

The fall of Samaria is actually claimed by two kings. First is Shalmaneser V (726-722 BCE) who apparently as crown prince had acted as chief administrator while his father was campaigning. Little is known of him apart from his siege of Samaria, as recorded in Babylonian Chronicle 1 (i 27-31): On the twenty-fifth day of the month Tebet Shalmaneser (V) ascended the throne in Assyria . He ravaged Samaria. The fifth year: Shalmaneser (V) died in the month Tebet. For five years Shalmaneser (V) ruled Akkad and Assyria. On the twelfth day of the month Tebet Sargon (II) ascended the throne in Assyria.41

The editor has put 'Samaria' in italics, but it seems to be agreed by consensus that the "^Sa-ma/ba-ra-'-in of the text, should be so read. However, Sargon II claims in his Annals to have conquered Samaria: In the beginning of my reign when I took (my) seat on the royal throne and was crowned with a lordly crown, the Sama]rians, [who agreed with (another) hostile king not to continue their slavery and not to deliver tribute and who started hostility in the strength of who bjring about my triumph, [I fought] w[ith them and completed their defeat. 27280 (or 27290) people, who lived therein, with their chariots, I] carried off (as) spoil. 50 chariots (for) my royal bodyguard [I mustered from among them and the rest of them I settled in the midst of Assyria (= Assyria proper). The city of Samaria I rejsettled and made it greater than before. People of the lands conquefred by my own hand (= by myself) I brought there. My courtier I placed over them as governor and duties and] tax I imposed upon them as on Assyrians.42

The Nimrod Prism, which is better preserved, is parallel and gives similar information.43 6. Comparison of Biblical and Extra-Biblical Material In this section I shall focus mainly on problems and issues of interpretation. A full list of the areas where the biblical text and the extra-biblical sources agree or do not agree will be given in the 'Conclusions' section below. It is important to keep in mind that scholars commonly mix biblical data with extra-biblical data to create their historical synthesis. Since the purpose of this paper is to test the biblical data, the aim is not to create a historical reconstruction. This can be done only when a number of questions about the 40. 41. 42. 43.

Tadmor 1994: 170-1. Grayson 1975: 73. Translation from Tadmor 1958: 34. Ibid.

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biblical picture have been answered. The purpose of this section is to ask some of these questions. The biblical text implies that the alliance with the Phoenicians was important to Omri and Ahab, with Ahab's marriage to Jezebel no doubt a means of sealing the alliance. This alliance is not directly attested in the non-biblical sources, but a number of the extra-biblical sources imply such a relationship. First, the name of Jezebel's father Ethbaal (Ittobaal) seems to have been mentioned in the sources used by Menander of Ephesus. Secondly, in the Kurkh Monolith Tyre and Sidon are not mentioned, either as paying tribute to Shalmaneser III or as members of the alliance of twelve kings. This would be explained if their armies were counted along with Israel's. One of the areas often discussed is the number of chariots possessed by Ahab. The text clearly reads '2000 chariots' (2 LIM GlS.GIGIR.ME§), so the problems of trying to read a damaged text do not apply here. Yet the text is often emended. For example, Donald Wiseman's translation in 1958 reads '200 chariots' without so much as a footnote or comment to indicate that the text has been emended.44 Perhaps the best defence of the view that '2000' should be emended to '200' has been given by Nadav Na'aman, the main argument being that such a large force could not have been sustained by the Israelite economy.45 However, this argument is not decisive for at least two reasons. The first is that the resources needed to maintain a large force of horses is not the precise equivalent of the economic support needed for manufacturing and supplying a modern tank regiment. 2000 chariots would need a large herd of horses, but these would not necessarily have been kept permanently in stalls. Grassland unsuitable for crops could still provide good grazing for horses kept in reserve until a national emergency arose. A second point to consider is that this force may not have been supplied by the kingdom of Israel alone.46 Here the biblical text may be useful. 1 Kings 22.4 suggests that Judah was subordinate to Israel, perhaps being a vassal, as was Moab. Also as noted above, Tyre and Sidon are not mentioned in Shalmaneser's inscription, either as opposing his advance or as paying tribute. Since Tyre and Sidon are often listed as paying tribute in Assyrian inscriptions, it would be surprising if they were omitted by accident. However, if they were allies of Israel (as indeed they are so presented by the biblical text), they would be neither paying tribute to Assyria nor listed separately in the inscription. According to the Assyrian inscriptions the coalition of twelve kings led by Damascus remained intact up to Shalmaneser's 14th year (845 BCE). Between then and the 18th year (841 BCE) things must have fallen apart, for in 841 Damascus, under its new king Hazael, alone faced the Assyrian army. In the same year the new king of Israel Jehu submitted to Assyria, putting it on the opposite side from the Aramaeans. The Assyrians continued to cause 44. Wiseman, 'Historical Records of Assyria and Babylon ', in Thomas (ed.) 1958: 47. 45. Na'aman 1976. 46. See the discussion in Kuan 1995: 39-47.

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problems for Hazael for another three years, until Shalmaneser's 21st year, but then Assyria ceased to concern itself with the western part of its empire for the next 30 years. This left Damascus a free hand to dominate the region, including Israel, first under the leadership of Hazael and then under his son Bar-Hadad. This is exactly the picture of the biblical text (2 Kgs 10.34-36; 12.18-19; 13.3, 22-25) Much has been made by some writers about the designation of Jehu as 'son of Omri', as some translations render it. One explanation is that the writer of the inscription did not know that Jehu was not a son of Omri but a ursurper to the throne. However, the other inscriptions of Shalmaneser show that the Sumerogram DUMU 'son of is used in a number of cases simply to designate a citizen of a particular country (hence, the translation 'man of), though the person so designated usually happens to be the king.47 The question is, what happened between Ahab's coalition with Hadadezer and the oppression of Israel by Hazael? According to the biblical text Ahab fought the Aramaeans. This seems to go contrary to the Assyrian inscriptions and Michael Astour, for example, argued that Jehoram was recovering from wounds received fighting against the Assyrians rather than the Aramaeans when Jehu's coup took place.48But some have been willing to argue that the biblical picture is not entirely wrong. That is, Ahab's alliance with the Aramaeans was a matter of necessity before a common enemy, but this did not prevent national concerns from taking over when the Assyrians were not threatening. Thus, the biblical representation of Ahab as fighting the Aramaeans toward the end of his reign is correct according to several interpreters.49 Basing himself on the Tell Dan inscription, Lipiriski has recently argued that not only had Ahab already fallen out with Hadadezer but that Jehoram and Ahaziah were slain by Hazael, not Jehu.50 Others are willing to believe that the Israelites and Aramaeans fell out late in the reign of Jehoram, and that the latter was indeed wounded fighting with Hazael over possession of Ramoth-gilead (2 Kgs 9.14-15).51 According to 2 Kings (1.1; 3.4-5) Moab was under the dominion of Israel but managed to break free after Ahab's death. No suggestion is made as to who subjugated Moab in the first place. The Mesha Stela states that Omri 'oppressed' Moab for his lifetime and half the lifetime of his son, 40 years, before Mesha threw off the Israelite yoke. There is a remarkable coincidence 47. Cf. the designation of Adramu king of Hamath as DUMU A-gu-u-si> Ahunu king of Adini as DUMU A-di-ni, and Haiianu king of Gabbari as DUMU Gab-ba-ri in the Kurkh Monolith (Grayson 1996:17-18 (A.0.102.2:15, 24, 27)). See also the discussion in Tadmor 1973: 149; Kuan 1995: 52-3 n. 167. 48 Astour 1971; Astour interprets Jehu's revolt as a move by a pro-Assyrian faction. N. Na'aman (forthcoming) argues that Ahab was killed fighting the Assyrians. 49. Bright (1980: 247) long argued this, in trying to reconcile the biblical and Assyrian sources. 50 Lipinski 2000: 373-80. As already noted above, the reconstruction of the Tell Dan inscription is not as certain as this interpretation implies. 51 Kuan 1995: 55-9.

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between the biblical and the extra-biblical data, as was noticed when the Moabite stone was first discovered. However, there are some discrepancies that either cannot be reconciled or at least call for an explanation. The first query concerns the name of Omri in the Mesha stela. It has normally been taken as the name of a contemporary king of Israel. However, a new interpretation has recently been given by Thomas Thompson and Niels Peter Lemche. Lemche gives a cautious discussion, noting the absence of Ahab, the 'mythical' figure of 40 years, the reference to Jehu as the 'son' of Omri (in the Assyrian inscriptions), and suggesting that the 'mentioning of King Omri may therefore in this inscription not be solid evidence of the existence of a king of this name but simply a reference to the apical founder of the kingdom of Israel . . . the dynastic name of the state of Israel'.52 If so, his 'son' could be any king of Israel down to the fall of Samaria. Thompson is more dogmatic: Omri 'dwelling in Moab' is not a person doing anything in Transjordan. It is a character of story an eponym, a personification of the state Bit Humri's political power and the presence of its army in eastern Palestine. We have a text. Therefore we are dealing with the literary, not the historical. From the historical name of Bit Humri, the Bible's story of a King Omri as builder of Samaria and founder of its dynasty grew just as much as had the story of King David and his forty kings. These sprang from the eponymic function of a truly historical Byt dwd.53

Of course, the Mesha stela gives a story, but so do all the inscriptions we are dealing with, including the Assyrian ones. To what extent a story is historical has to be resolved on grounds other than genre. Is there evidence that Omri was a real person or only a personification of the state Bit Humri'} That question cannot be answered directly because the two sources treating Omri as a person are the biblical text - which we are trying to test - and the Moabite stone - which is in question at the moment as a source. The only way to approach the question is to ask whether there are helpful analogies to this situation. There are in fact some good analogies in the person of Gus, the king of Yaljan, an Aramaean state around Lake Gabbul in northern Syria. We know he was an actual individual because he paid tribute to Ashurnasirpal II c. 870 BCE.54 Gus was apparently considered the founder of the state and dynasty. In 858 a 'Hadram son of Gus' paid tribute to Shalmaneser III.55 The Zakkur inscription lists a 'Bar-Gush' among the kings arrayed against Zakkur (A 6). Other inscriptions refer to the state or dynasty as 'house of Gus' (BitGusi/Bit-Agusi in Assyrian; byt gs in Aramaic).56 Similarly, Hazael is clearly

52. Lemche 1998: 44-6. 53. Thompson 2000: 325. 54. Text in Grayson 1991: 218, lines 77-78 (text A.0.101.1). 55. Grayson 1996: 17 (text A.0.102.2 ii 12): ma-ra-me DUMU gu-u-si; also p. 25 (A.0.102.3 96-7). The reading of the name as 'Hadram' (mad-ra-me) follows E. Lipinski (2000: 196 n. 12; 212) who has based this interpretation on other inscriptional material. 56. Lipinski 2000: 196 and nn. The Aramaic form is in KAI223B: 10.

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attested as king of Damascus in a number of Assyrian inscriptions, but after his death the land of Damascus is sometimes referred to as Bit Hazael in Assyrian inscriptions (p. 79 above). What these two examples illustrate is that a known historical individual (e.g., Gus, Hazael) can be taken as the founder or eponym of a dynasty, with the dynasty named after the person ('house of X') and the descendants even referred to as 'son of X'. Thus, the expression Bit Humri as a reference to the state/royal house of Israel does not rule out Omri as a historical personage. The question now is how to interpret the Moabite stone. Does the text suggest an eponymous ancester when it mentions Omri or does it have in mind an actual king? First, the text refers to 'Omri' twice (lines 4-5, 7) but never to 'house of Omri'. Secondly, there is no reference to 'son of Omri' as we have in some of the Assyrian inscriptions, where 'DUMU/wtfr PN' seem to be the equivalent of 'king/man of (the house of) PN'. Instead, we have 'his son' (bnh: lines 6, 8), with a reference back to Omri alone (though bn probably means 'grandson' in this context; see next paragraph). This expression is not the same as that where an eponymous ancester is used to designate an individual. The language of the Mesha stela looks like a straightforward reference to an actual king of Israel, not just a mythical eponym of the Israelite royal house. A second problem is the dating of Moab's vassalage to Israel. A period of 40 years is mentioned, obviously a round number. Omri is associated with the conquest of Moab; however, it is rather curious that Ahab is not mentioned at all, though the expression 'his son' might have been taken as a derogatory reference by not actually naming Ahab. We should not automatically assume that the Mesha inscription gives a correct account of the situation, since it clearly has its own biases; nevertheless, it is a near contemporary of the events,57 while the biblical account of Mesha is embedded in a prophetic legend and seems to have been written down or at least edited long after the events. This is not the whole story, however, because both accounts have to be treated critically. It is interesting that the length of reigns of Omri and Ahab together total 34 years according to the biblical text (1 Kgs 16.23, 29), not far from forty years. It may be that the reigns of Omri and Ahab have been telescoped - after all, the Moabite scribe was making a general point, not giving a blow-by-blow historical narrative - and 'half the reign of his son' could be a reference to Jehoram rather than Ahab ('son' being used generically for a more remote descendant, 'grandson' in this case). Moab rebelled in the reign of Jehoram according to 1 Kings 1.1. Jehoram reigned 12 years, and if we add 6 of these to the 34 of Omri and Ahab, we have 40. This could just be coincidence, but it is not too improbable that the Moabite scribe was adding

57. This is deduced from the fact that most inscriptions known from the ancient Near East given in the first person seem to be contemporary or approximately contemporary with the person who speaks in the first person in them. It is difficult to understand why someone other than Mesha himself would have such a monument produced; hence, the assumption that the Moabite stone was produced near the time of Mesha himself.

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up the years of the reigns in similar fashion. If so, the two accounts in the Moabite stone and the Bible would in fact be quite close. The reason for suggesting this interpretation is an obvious one: it seems unlikely that Moab could have rebelled under Ahab, considering the latter's strength according to the Assyrian inscriptions. The logical time to have rebelled was after Ahab's death, when a less experienced and weaker son was on the throne. Although the precise interpretation of the statement in the Mesha stela is uncertain, it seems prima facie likely that the rebellion of Mesha took place after Ahab's death - as the biblical text states - but it may also be that the Mesha stela can be reconciled with this view, as just described. One of the problems in historical reconstruction of this period is the tendency to multiply 'Ben-Hadad's. Some writers count up to four individuals, numbering Bar-Hadad I-TV.58 The reason for such a large number of individuals is that the biblical text has simply been harmonized with external sources, so that wherever 'Ben-Hadad' has been mentioned in the biblical text, it has been taken at face value.59 This tendency has been resisted in more critical writers, and one recent book gives only two figures, a Bar-Hadad I and Bar-Hadad II.60 1 Kings 21 refers to a 'Ben-Hadad' who was active in the time of Ahab, yet we know that the king of Damascus at this time was Hadadezer. An explanation of the biblical picture has become widely accepted in scholarship: 1 Kings 2022 contains material from the later Jehu dynasty (e.g., 2 Kings 13) which has been mistakenly assigned to the reign of Ahab.61 Part of the theory is that the original stories had only the titles 'king of Israel' and 'king of Judah', without the personal names, which made it easy to insert them wherever the editor thought fit. This hypothesis is cogent and fits the data well, which is why it has become so widely accepted in recent years. However, all it does is explain how the final text arose. The text as it presently stands is completely misleading, and the correct understanding (assuming one accepts the hypothesis) was possible only when extra-biblical sources became available. Once the coalition under Hadadezer had broken up, Hazael alone stood against the Assyrians. Campaigns against him are mentioned for Shalmaneser Ill's 18th (841 BCE) and 21st years (838 BCE). After that the Assyrians ceased to march into the western part of their empire for several decades, leaving Damascus to dominate the region. The picture of Hazael and his son BenHadad (Bar-Hadad) as causing trouble for Israel is a realistic one (2 Kgs 10.32-33; 12.18-19; 13.3-6). It is not attested directly because of the lack of Assyrian inscriptions, but the state of affairs is presupposed when the 58. Dearman/Miller 1983. 59. E.g., Bright 1981: 243; Dearman in Dearman/Miller 1983. This 'duplex' method of writing history is not convincing; on the question, see Grabbe 1997: 64-5. 60. See Miller (in Dearman/Miller 1983); Lipinski (2000:407) who give only Bar-Hadad I and n as kings of Damascus. 61. The hypothesis has been championed by J. Maxwell Miller, first in an unpublished PhD thesis, and then in a series of articles: Miller 1966; Miller 1967; Miller 1968; see also Pitard 1987: 114—25. A good summary of the arguments is given by Kuan 1995: 36-9.

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Assyrians once again intervened in the west under Adad-narari HI. A coalition including Bar-Hadad, son of Hazael, attacked Zakkur of Hamath (Zakkur Inscription) and apparently went on to challenge the Assyrians. Not only does the biblical text have the sequence Hazael, followed by Bar-Hadad (Hebrew Ben-Hadad), but the 'saviour' of 2 Kings 13.5 is probably a reference to the Assyrian help. The Zakkur inscription probably alludes to this same antiAssyrian coalition, whereas Zakkur is pro-Assyrian and seems to have been delivered by Assyrian intervention. The Joash of Israel who is being relieved of the oppression from Bar-Hadad is mentioned in the el-Rimah Assyrian inscription (p. 76 above) as paying tribute to the Assyrians. Finally, the fall of Damascus (c. 80262), as described in the el-Rimah and other inscriptions, would have taken the pressure off Israel and others who were under the yoke of Damascus. Thus, although the biblical text cannot be confirmed in detail, the general picture given fits the situation in the last part of the ninth century as we know it from extra-biblical sources. After the events around 800 BCE, there is not a lot of further extra-biblical information for the next half-century until the reign of Tiglath-pileser III. The biblical text assigns a good deal of important activity to Jeroboam n, but this individual is not mentioned by any extra-biblical sources. About 780-775 BCE Shamshi-ilu the Assyrian commander for the region collected tribute from Hadiiani. This would suggest that Damascus was not able to do just anything it wished. The next king of Israel mentioned is Menahem, in Tiglath-pileser's Annals and in the Iran Stele III (c. 738). Rezin of Damascus63 was clearly an important figure in the region and a significant opponent of the Assyrians. Although the 'Syro-Ephraimite war' (2 Kgs 15.29; 16.5-9; Isaiah 7) is not described as such in the Assyrian annals, it is compatible with everything so far known. In the end, though, both Rezin and his alleged ally Pekah lost out. Tiglath-pileser III took Damascus about 732 BCE (whether he killed Rezin is not preserved) and exiled many of the Aramaeans.64 For the first time in the Assyrian annals, we also find a mention of the kingdom of Judah, for Summary Inscription 7 records that about the same time Tiglath-pileser collected tribute from Jehoahaz of Judah (mla-uha-zi *™Ia-u-da-a+a', cf. 2 Chron. 28.20).65 The Assyrian king also annexed Gilead, Galilee, and other areas of northern Israel (cf. 2 Kgs 15.29).66 In what is an unusually detailed episode for comparative purposes, Summary Inscription 4 tells about how Tiglath-pileser had Pekah removed for disloyalty

62. For the possible dates, of which many have been suggested, see the discussion in Kuan 1995: 93-106. 63. The Akkadian is variously mRa-hi-a-nu kai$d-imeri-su-a+a (Annal 13*, line 10 = Tadmor 1994: 68) and mRa-qi-a-nu kaiSd-imeri-su-a+a (Stela mA, line 4 = Tadmor 1994: 106), apparently reflecting Aramaic Radyan. 64. Tadmor 1994: 138 (Summary Inscription 4, 7'-8'), 186 (Summary Inscription 9, reverse 3-4). 65. Tadmor 1994: 170-71 (Summary Inscription 7, 7'-13'). 66. Tadmor 1994: 138 (Summary Inscriptions 4, 4'-7').

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and replaced by Hoshea.67 This is remarkably close to 2 Kgs 15.30. Perhaps the one discrepancy is whether Tiglath-pileser or Hoshea deposed Pekah, but this is probably a matter of wording. The removal of Pekah is not likely to have happened without Tiglath-pileser's ultimate say-so, and one suspects that Hoshea acted only when he knew that he had Assyrian backing. When we come to the siege and capture of Samaria and deportation of many Israelites, there are some questions, even when we look at the Mesopotamian sources. In particular, what part did Shalmaneser V play and what hand did Sargon II have in the matter? Sargon II claims to have conquered Samaria, and some scholars have accepted these claims; however, the account in 2 Kings 17.3-6 that this siege and capture of the city took place in the time of Shalmaneser V is supported by the Babylonian Chronicles (above, p. 80). The argument that the various sources can be reconciled is probably correct, though more than one solution is possible. R. E. Tappy68 (who gives a good summary of the issues and sources) argues that there were two compaigns, one in 723-722 (by Shalmaneser) in which the rebellious Hoshea was removed from the throne, and one in 720-719 (by Sargon) against an anti-Assyrian coalition (led by Ilu-bi'di of Hamath) of which Samaria was a part. It seems likely that Shalmaneser V and Sargon II were both involved in the end of Samaria. Yet there is no evidence in the archaeology that the city was destroyed. Perhaps the biblical text does not clearly envisage a destruction of the city, but the archaeological evidence also seems to be against a wholesale deportation of the population (though a small portion does seem to have been removed and replaced by outside settlers [p. 64 above]). Whether the Israelites were really taken to the places alleged in 2 Kings 17.6 or of whether peoples from the places listed in 2 Kings 17.24 were actually brought in, there is now evidence that some movement of population between the two regions actually took place.69 But the extent of the deportation described is definitely to be queried. 7. Conclusions Conclusions with Regard to History We can now summarize the results of the foregoing study. In doing so, it is difficult to indicate graphically the relative importance of the points listed below. Obviously, some agreements and disagreements are more significant than others. However, an attempt will be made to take account of this in the next section which discusses methodological implications. 67. Tadmor 1994: 140 (Summary Inscription 4, 15'-19'), 188 (Summary Inscription 9, 9-11). 68. Tappy 2001: 558-75, who cites a number of earlier studies: particularly important are Becking 1992 and Tadmor 1958: 33-40. 69. Oded 1979: 69-71; Cogan/Tadmor 1988: 197, 209-10. Becking has looked at the prima facie evidence that the deportations to and from Samaria took place (1992: 61-104); however, the only attested deportation to Samaria is of defeated Arab tribes.

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Biblical data confirmed: A number of the Israelite kings and their approximate dates are confirmed: Omri, Ahab, Jehu, Joash, Menahem, Pekah, Hoshea, as well as probably Jehoram. Of kings of Judah, Jehoahaz and possibly Ahaziah are correctly remembered. Mesha king of Moab is correctly remembered and his breaking away from Israelite rule (though some of the details remain questionable). Of the Aramaean rulers, Hazael of Damascus, his son Ben-Hadad, and Rezin are given correctly. Strength of Hazael over Israel and the region. Strength of Ben-Hadad, son of Hazael, and his loss of power over Israel (the Assyrian intervention is not mentioned explicitly, though it may be alluded to). Menahem's payment of tribute. Pekah's defeat and death. Assyrian defeat of Rezin of Damascus. Hoshea of Israel as replacement for Pekah. Jehoahaz (also called just Ahaz) of Judah's interaction with Tiglathpileser III. Fall of Samaria to Shalmaneser V. Biblical data not confirmed, though they may be correct: Ahab may have fought the Aramaeans during part of his reign, though not at the end. Whether any of the stories about Elijah and Elisha preserved data about the doings of actual individuals is hard to say. It would not be surprising if such individuals actually lived, but it would be very unlikely that the details of their lives could be verified. Of course, most of us would discount miraculous happenings and prescient knowledge. Jehu's revolt and coup. Rule of Athaliah. Reign of Jeroboam II. Syro-Ephraimite War. The other kings of Judah (in addition to Ahaz and perhaps Ahaziah). 'Minor kings' of Israel, such as Zechariah and Pekahiah. Biblical picture incorrect: Ahab is presented as weak militarily. The Aramaeans are the main enemy. The king of Aram is wrongly given as Ben-Hadad in the time of Ahab. Biblical picture omits/has gaps:

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The Assyrians are strangely absent from the picture until the time of Tiglath-pileser. It is possible that the biblical writer had no knowledge of the Assyrians in the time of Ahab, but if he did, he has suppressed this information. If material from the later Jehu dynasty is found in 1 Kgs 20 and 22, as many scholars now believe, the biblical writer may have placed it in the present position by mistake. The alternative - that the editor/compiler knew the true nature of the material but deliberately misused it - is by no means impossible, but the ignorant use of the material is more likely. Jehu's submission to Shalmaneser III, along with his payment of tribute, is not mentioned in the Bible. The submission of Joash of Israel to the Assyrians.

Conclusions with Regard to Methodology The ultimate purpose of the foregoing investigation was to ask about methodology: to what extent can we use the biblical text as a historical source? Any answer has to be bound inseparably with certain qualifications, because 'the biblical text' is not a single homogenous entity. It varies from the legendary (some would say even the mythical) to what might possibly be straightforward factual reporting. The prophetic sources focusing on Elijah and Elisha do not inspire confidence as usable sources even if here and there may be genuine historical data. The following points arise out of the present investigation: 1. The minimalist argument that the biblical text cannot be used except where there is external confirmation can easily be exemplified; however, as a working principle it is inadequate. Judging from the section of text examined here, supplemented by that looked at in other studies,70 there is a considerable amount of usable historical material in (some of) the biblical text. 2. The form-critical truism remains that account must be taken of the genre of the biblical material. Prophetic stories do not generally make good historical sources. Material likely to have been taken from or based on court or temple chronicles has, prima facie, a much greater chance of having usable data. The main point here, however, is that the biblical text was not written as a record of the past nor for purely antiquarian reasons. Its purpose was a theological and religious one, as indicated already simply by the contents of the text. There is still a gulf between the concerns of the biblical writers and those of the historians beginning already with the ancient Greeks (cf. Grabbe 2001). 3. Particular sorts of information are more likely to be trustworthy than others. Wherever an Israelite or Jewish ruler is mentioned in an external 70. Earlier studies that look at the question are Grabbe 1997: 19-36 (especially 24-6); Grabbe 1998b: 80-100 (especially 84-90); Grabbe 2003; Grabbe 2005.

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source, the biblical text is shown to have the genuine name, the correct sequence of rule, and the approximate time of the person's rule in every case where there are sufficient external comparative sources to make a determination. 4. The occurrences of certain other incidental details in summaries of reigns have the appearance of being genuine data, but most of these cannot be confirmed. The Deuteronomist (if 'he' is indeed the author of the Dtr material) evidently had some sort of usable source for general information on the reigns of Israelite and Judaean kings. This could have been a court chronicle, a temple chronicle, or something similar. It seems less likely that the writer drew on original documents, since these are likely to have been too episodic and incomplete to have a full list of kings. The other material given along with the lengths of reign suggests the sort of thing that might be found in a chronicle with brief information about each king (the question of the use of a chronicle is explored in Grabbe 2006). 5. It is always possible that a writer of the Hellenistic period could have had available such a chronicle and have written the relevant sections at that time. Much more believable, however, is that a writer of the late monarchic period or possibly the exile or even the early Persian period had access to a source and constructed those parts of the Deuteronomistic History at that time. This does not answer the question of the full collecting of the other material and the editing of the text, but a compilation before the end of the Persian period is more believable prima facie and also supported by other indications.71 It will be clear that in this study I have steered a path between the 'minimalists' and the 'maximalists'. Since the adoption of the label 'moderate' can easily be self-serving, it might well be asked whether my position is a dogmatic one. My response to that is threefold: first, I have done my best in this paper to approach the subject empirically, with the aim of testing to what extent the biblical text has usable data; secondly, my approach to history in general is based on my extensive work with historical study in other contexts (especially, those of early Judaism and the classical world); thirdly, I have taken a different position with regard to other biblical texts (e.g., taking a rather sceptical view about the use of most material from the book of Ezra for historical purposes72). There is no question that in a study such as this, decisions and judgments have to be made at every point. It is impossible to eliminate this subjective element from historical study, but to the best of my knowledge and ability I have reached my conclusions by trying to investigate the primary data and weigh up the arguments on each side. That is all a historian can do.

71. See the discussion in Grabbe 2004: 331-43. 72. See Grabbe 1991; 1994; 1998a; 2004.

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Gugler, Werner 1996 Jehu und seine Revolution (Kampen: Kok Pharos). Hallo, William W. (ed.) 1997-2002 The Context of Scripture (CoS), 3 vols (Leiden: Brill). Haran, Menahem 1967 'The Rise and Decline of the Empire of Jeroboam ben Joash', VT 17: 266-97. Hayes, John H., and Jeffrey K. Kuan 1991 'The Final Years of Samaria (730-720 BC)', Biblica 72: 153-81. Herzog, Ze'ev 2001 'The Date of the Temple of Arad: Reassessment of the Stratigraphy and the Implications for the History of Religion in Judah', in Amihai Mazar (ed.), Studies in the Archaeology of the Iron Age in Israel and Jordan (JSOTSup 331; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press), 156-78. 2002 'The Fortress Mound at Tel Arad: An Interim Report', TA 29: 3-109. Herzog, Ze'ev, and Lily Singer-Avitz 2004 'Redefining the Centre: The Emergence of State in Judah', TA 31: 209-44. Irvine, Stuart A. 1990 Isaiah, Ahaz, and the Syro-Ephraimitic Crisis (SBSDS 123; Atlanta: Scholars). Jamieson-Drake, D. W. 1991 Scribes and Schools in Monarchic Judah: A Socio-Archeological Approach (JSOTSup 109; Social World of Biblical Antiquity 9; Sheffield: Almond Press). Killebrew, Ann E. 2003 'Biblical Jerusalem: An Archaeological Assessment', in Andrew G. Vaughn and Ann E. Killebrew (eds.), Jerusalem in Bible and Archaeology: The First Temple Period (SBLSymS 18; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature), 329-45. Forthcoming 'Aegean-Style Pottery and Associated Assemblages in Levant: Chronological Implications Regarding the End of the Late Bronze Age and Appearance of the Philistines', in Lester L. Grabbe (ed.), Israel in Transition: From Late Bronze II to Iron HA (c. 1250-850 KE): The Archaeology (LHBOT = European Seminar in Historical Methodology 7; London/New York: T&T Clark International, forthcoming 2007). Knauf, Ernst Axel 2000 'Jerusalem in the Late Bronze and Early Iron Ages: A Proposal', TA 27: 75-90. Kuan, Jeffrey Kah-jin 1995 Neo-Assyrian Historical Inscriptions and Syria-Palestine: Israelite/JudeanTyrian-Damascene Political and Commercial Relations in the Ninth-Eighth Centuries BCE (Jian Dao Dissertation Series 1 = Bible and Literature 1; Hong Kong: Alliance Bible Seminary). Lambert, W. G. 1994 'When Did Jehu Pay Tribute?' in Stanley E. Porter, Paul Joyce, and David E. Orton (eds.), Crossing the Boundaries: Essays in Biblical Interpretation in Honour of Michael D. Goulder (Biblical Interpretation Series 8; Leiden: Brill), 51-6. Lehmann, Gunnar 2003 'The United Monarchy in the Countryside: Jerusalem, Judah, and the Shephelah during the Tenth Century B.C.E.', in Andrew G. Vaughn and Ann E. Killebrew (eds.), Jerusalem in Bible and Archaeology: The First Temple Period (SBLSymS 18; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature), 117-62.

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Lemaire, Andre 1993 'Joas de Samarie, Barhadad de Dams, Zakkur de Hamat: La Syrie-Palestine vers 800 av. J.-C.', El 24: 148*-57*. 1994a 'La dynastic davidique (Byt Dwd) dans deux inscriptions Ouest-Semitique de le S. Av. J.-C.', SEL 11: 17-19. 1994b '"House of David" Restored in Moabite Inscription', BAR 20/3: 30-7. Lemche, Niels Peter 1998 The Israelites in History and Tradition (Library of Ancient Israel; Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox; London: SPCK). Lipinski, Edward 2000 The Aramaeans: Their Ancient History, Culture, Religion (OLA 100; Leuven: Peeters). Mazar, Amihai 1997 'Iron Age Chronology: A Reply to I. Finkelstein', Levant 29 (1997), 157-67. 2004 'Greek and Levantine Iron Age Chronology: A Rejoinder', IEJ 54: 24-36. 2005 'The Debate over the Chronology of the Iron Age in the Southern Levant: Its History, the Current Situation, and a Suggested Resolution', in Thomas E. Levy and Thomas Higham (eds.), The Bible and Radiocarbon Dating: Archaeology, Text and Science (London: Equinox), 15-30. Forthcoming a 'The Spade and the Text: The Interaction between Archaeology and Israelite History Relating to the 10th-9th Centuries BCE', in Hugh G. M. Williamson (ed.), Understanding the History of Ancient Israel (OUP for the British Academy; 2006?). Forthcoming b 'From 1200 to 850 BCE: Remarks on Some Selected Issues', in Lester L. Grabbe (ed.), Israel in Transition: From Late Bronze II to Iron IIA (c. 1250-850 BCEJ: The Archaeology (LHBOT = European Seminar in Historical Methodology 7; London/New York: T&T Clark International, forthcoming 2007). Mazar, Amihai, Hendrik J. Bruins, Nava Panitz-Cohen and Johannes van der Plicht 2005 'Ladder of Time at Tel Rehov: Stratigraphy, Archaeological Context, Pottery and Radiocarbon Dates', in Thomas E. Levy and Thomas Higham (eds.), The Bible and Radiocarbon Dating: Archaeology, Text and Science (London: Equinox), 193-255. Mazar, Amihai, and Ehud Netzer 1986 'On the Israelite Fortress at Arad', BASOR 263: 87-91. Mazar, Eilat 2006 (January/February) 'Did I find King David's Palace?' BAR 32/1: 16-27, 70. McCarter, P. Kyle 1974 'Yaw, Son of "Omri": A Philological Note on Israelite Chronology', BASOR 216: 5-7. Millard, Alan R., and Hayim Tadmor 1973 'Adad-nirari HI in Syria: Another Stele Fragment and the Dates of his Campaigns', Iraq 35: 57-64. Miller, J. Maxwell 1966 The Elisha Cycle and the Accounts of the Omride Wars', JBL 85: 441-54. 1967 'The Fall of the House of Ahab', VT 17: 307-24. 1968 "The Rest of the Acts of Jehoahaz (I Kings 20 22j.3g)', ZAW 80: 337-72. 1974 'The Moabite Stone as a Memorial Stela', PEQ 106: 9-18. Na'aman, Nadav 1974 'Sennacherib's "Letter to God" on his Campaign to Judah', BASOR 214: 25-39.

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'Palaces and Residences in the Iron Age', in Aharon Kempinski and Ronny Reich (eds.), The Architecture of Ancient Israel from the Prehistoric to the Persian Periods (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society), 202-22. Reich, Ronny, Eli Shukron, and Omri Lernau Forthcoming 'The Iron Age II Finds from the Rock-Cut Pool near the Spring in Jerusalem and their Possible Meaning: A Preliminary Report', in Lester L. Grabbe (ed.), Israel in Transition: From Late Bronze II to Iron IIA (c. 1250-850 BCEJ: The Archaeology (LHBOT = European Seminar in Historical Methodology 7; London/New York: T&T Clark International, forthcoming 2007). Rendsburg, Gary 1981 'A Reconstruction of Moabite-Israelite History', JANES 13: 67-73. Sharon, Ilan, Ayelet Gilboa, and Elisabetta Boaretto Forthcoming The Iron Age Chronology of the Levant: The State-of-Research at the 14C Dating Project, Spring 2006', in Lester L. Grabbe (ed.), Israel in Transition: From Late Bronze II to Iron IIA (c. 1250-850 BCEJ: The Archaeology (LHBOT = ESHM 7; London/New York: T&T Clark International, forthcoming 2007). Sharon, Ilan, Ayelet Gilboa, Elisabeth Boaretto, and A. J. Timothy Jull 2005 'The Early Iron Age Dating Project: Introduction, Methodology, Progress Report and an Update on the Tel Dor Radiometric Dates', in Thomas E. Levy and Thomas Higham (eds.) The Bible and Radiocarbon Dating: Archaeology, Text and Science (London: Equinox), 65-92. Shortland, A. J. 2005 'Shishak, King of Egypt: the Challenges of Egyptian Calendrical Chronology', in Thomas E. Levy and Thomas Higham (eds.) The Bible and Radiocarbon Dating: Archaeology, Text and Science (London: Equinox), 43-54. Singer-Avitz, Lily 1999 'Beersheba - A Gateway Community in Southern Arabian Long-Distance Trade in the Eighth Century B.C.E.', TA 26: 3-75. Steiner, Margreet, 2001 'Jerusalem in the Tenth and Seventh Centuries BCE: From Administrative Town to Commercial City', in Amihai Mazar (ed.), Studies in the Archaeology of the Iron Age in Israel and Jordan (JSOTSup 331; Sheffield Academic Press), 280-88. 2003a 'The Evidence from Kenyon's Excavations in Jerusalem: A Response Essay', in Andrew G. Vaughn and Ann E. Killebrew (eds.), Jerusalem in Bible and Archaeology: The First Temple Period (SBLSymS 18; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature), 347-63. 2003b 'Expanding Borders: The Development of Jerusalem in the Iron Age', in Thomas L. Thompson, with the collaboration of Salma Khadra Jayyusi (ed.), Jerusalem in Ancient History and Tradition (JSOTSup 381; CIS 13; London/New York: T&T Clark International), 68-79. Stern, Ephraim 1992 'The Phoenician Architectural Elements in Palestine during the Late Iron Age and the Persian Period', in Aharon Kempinski and Ronny Reich (eds.), The Architecture of Ancient Israel from the Prehistoric to the Persian Periods (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society), 302-9.

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WAS OMRIDE ISRAEL A SOVEREIGN STATE?

Ernst Axel Knauf

In 1948, the State of Israel regained its independence and sovereignty. The following remarks aim at deleting the 're' in 'regained'. By no means does that make the present State of Israel less independent or sovereign. The concept of sovereignty is complicated and need not be discussed in detail for the present context. A definition of the term, applicable in ancient Near Eastern contexts, could read: 'A state is sovereign if no other state or states claim suzerainty over it'. In this case, Israelite sovereignty evaporated when Jehu submitted to Shalmanaser III. Empires have an elephant's memory: simul assyriacus - semper assyriacus. When under Tiglath-pileser III Assyria was back on the Syro-Palestinian scene, any opposing Israelite king could be treated from the very beginning of the encounter as a rebel. Empires, in addition, have the tendency also to remember the legal claims of their predecessors quite well. Thus, suzerainty over the Land of Israel passed from Assyria to Egypt (627/609-605), from Egypt to Babylonia, from Babylonia to the Achaemenids, from the Achaemenids to Alexander, the Ptolemies and the Seleucids. The second century Hasmonean principality was an ally welcome to Rome as long as there was a Seleucid entity to fight, but a former Seleucid possession when Rome achieved its hostile takeover of Syria. But was there any sovereignty to evaporate between 853 and 841 (if we disregard the fact that small and middle ancient Near Eastern kingdoms presented themselves as much more sovereign and independent to their subjects than they dared to do vis-a-vis their overlords)?1 It is taken for granted that David remained a loyal vassal of the Philistine king of Gath to the very end of his career; Solomon, however, was not necessarily bound by David's loyalties, having gained the throne of Jerusalem by an anti-Davidic and anti-Judaean (and possibly also anti-Philistine) coup d'etat.2 Turning to the indisputably contemporaneous sources - Egyptian and Assyrian inscriptions and a number 1. Remember the ruler of Gozan who called himself a 'king' in his own Aramaic and a 'governor' in Akkadian. 2. E. A. Knauf, 'Saul, David and the Philistines: from Geography to History', Biblische Notizen 109 (2001), pp. 15-18; id., 'Le roi est mort, vive le roi! A Biblical Argument for the Historicity of Solomon', in L. K. Handy, ed., The Age of Solomon: Scholarship at the Turn of the Millennium (SHCANE 11; Leiden: Brill, 1997), pp. 81-95.

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of artefacts and then to integrating statements contained in the Bible into the framework of the primary data - the impression emerges that Israel and Judah, from Solomon and Jeroboam to the end of the Omride dynasty, existed within a system of Egyptian benign imperial suzerainty over Canaan (including Phoenicia). Here is a list of the main points: Shoshenq's/Shishak's campaigns were not a one-year affair.3 It is generally accepted that his list4 from the last year of his reign combines several independent itineraries. It is more likely that it is a summary of Shoshenq's achievements of a lifetime rather than a description of the operations of 3-4 different Egyptian armies operating during the same campaining season. This assumption is corroborated by a biographical fragment of one of Shoshenq's camp-followers, stating that he accompanied the Pharaoh 'on his campaigns (plural!) to Retjenu (Syria-Palestine)'.5 The monumental stela which Shoshenq had erected at Megiddo (probably founding Megiddo VB at the same time) was not the work of a few days spent camping in the vicinity, and was meant to impress the lasting claims of Egypt.6 Shoshenq's campaign took place in the area of the tenth century 'Canaanite revival'. According to his inscriptions, he did not touch the hill country, neither Jerusalem nor Shechem. Both Solomon and Jeroboam I are credited with Egyptian royal marriages; be this as it may, historically, a certain amount of Egyptian dependency is indicated by that tradition (as is Tyrian dependency implied in Ahab's marriage). Decisively, of the towns rebuilt by Solomon (according to 1 Kings 9:17-18) and Jeroboam I, Shoshenq claims to have destroyed at least Ge[zer], Beth-Horon and Penuel. The picture which emerges is Shoshenq's outsourcing of some of his conquests to his Israelite and Judaean vassals. Shoshenq's campaigns were neither a one-year affair nor inconsequential. A contingent of 500 Egyptians still fought in the battle of Qarqar in 853 BCE, acting in lieu of Tyre and Sidon which are conspicuously absent from the list of Shalmaneser's enemies. It agrees with the mentality of a trading community to accept a foreign garrison at reasonable expenses rather than pay for an army of one's own.

3. Cf. H.M. Niemann, 'The Socio-political Shadow of the Biblical Solomon', in L. K. Handy, ed., The Age of Solomon: Scholarship at the Turn of the Millennium (SHCANE 11; Leiden: Brill, 1997), pp. 252-99 (296-9). 4. Cf. for the Shoshenq-list and how to read it, N. Na'aman, Zion 63 (1998), pp. 247-76. 5. B. U. Schipper, Israel und Agypten in der Konigszeit (OBO 170; Freiburg: Universitatsverlag and Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1999), pp. 192f. 6. B. U. Schipper, OBO 170, pp. 129-132; 297 Abb. 7 and 8; E. A. Knauf, 'Shoshenq at Megiddo', Biblische Notizen 107/108 (2001), p. 31.

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Ahab Agonistes There is a votive offering, originating from Syria, by an Egyptian general of the XXII dynasty7: another attestation of Egyptian troops stationed or campaigning in Asia between 940 and 850. Egyptian kings send their statues, i.e. pictures, to Phoenician rulers: a clear act of suzerain-vassal relationships.8 Israelite architects of the Omride dynasty planned and built according to the Egyptian cubit, not the Syrian cubit as used before and after the Omrides.9 Shoshenq's cartouche, in increasingly hackneyed hieroglyphs, appears as a sign of power on Israelite and Judaean seals throughout the ninth and eighth centuries.10 Much more than one year's campaign of pillage and plunder seems to be necessary to establish the Pharaonic name as a synonym for power and glory. The intermediate state would have been the use of the name as a title. Shoshenq did not ask for tribute from Jerusalem (or he would have named the place on his list); he seems to have been content with cooperation. His sucessors might have done, and have been entered into the annals of Jerusalem under his name (1 Kgs 14.25-26; this biblical reference, therefore, is useless for Egyptian chronology).

When, in the middle of the ninth century, Egypt lost its Canaanite 'possessions' once again, first to Shalmaneser, from whom Hazael took over, the state of the XXII dynasty fell into disarray and ceased to be a global player for more than a century. Israel passed from Assyrian suzerainty to Damascene vassalage and, under Jeroboam II, back to Assyrian tutelage (this, at least, is the impression he must have made on the Assyrians by fighting their common foe, Damascus). Today, sovereignty of small states in a world of big powers is mostly an illusion, and a quite expensive one; in Near Eastern antiquity, i did not even exist in legal terms.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Franklin, Norma 2005 'Correlation and Chronology: Samaria and Megiddo Redux', in Thomas E. Levy and Thomas Higham (eds.), The Bible and Radiocarbon Dating: Archaeology, Text and Science (London: Equinox, 2005), pp. 310-22.

7. Published by W. Spiegelberg, 'Eine agyptische Gottergruppe aus Syrien' Orientalistische Literaturzeitung (1929), pp. 14-18. 8. Played down unduly by Schipper, OBO 171, pp. 172-7. Sometimes it is necessary to see the whole picture. 9. Oral communication by Norma Franklin, Tel Aviv, who has now published her seminal observation in Franklin 2005. 10. O. Keel and Ch. Uehlinger, Gottinnen, Cotter und Gottessymbole (QD 134; Freiburg, Basel and Vienna, 4th revised edition, 1998), pp. 536-7;

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Keel, O. and Ch. Uehlinger 1998 Gottinnen, Cotter und Gottessymbole (QD 134; Freiburg, Basel and Vienna, 4th revised edition, 1998). Knauf, E. A.

1997 2001 2001

'Le roi est mort, vive le roi! A Biblical Argument for the Historicity of Solomon', in L. K. Handy, ed., The Age of Solomon: Scholarship at the Turn of the Millennium (SHCANE 11; Leiden: Brill, 1997), pp. 81-95. 'Shoshenq at Megiddo' in Biblische Notizen 107/108 (2001), p. 31. 'Saul, David and the Philistines: from Geography to History', Biblische Notizen 109 (2001), pp. 15-18.

Na'aman, N. 1998 Zion 63 (1998), pp. 247-76. Niemann, H. M. 1997 'The Socio-political Shadow of the Biblical Solomon', in L. K. Handy, ed., The Age of Solomon: Scholarship at the Turn of the Millennium (SHCANE 11; Leiden: Brill, 1997), pp. 252-99. Schipper, B. U. 1999 Israel und Agypten in der Konigszeit (OBO 170; Freiburg: Universitatsverlag and Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1999). Spiegelberg, W. 1929 'Eine agyptische Gottergruppe aus Syrien', Orientalistische Literaturzeitung (1929), pp. 14-18.

THE TEL DAN INSCRIPTION (KAI310) AND THE POLITICAL RELATIONS BETWEEN ARAM-DAMASCUS AND ISRAEL IN THE FIRST HALF OF THE FIRST MILLENNIUM BCE.1

Ingo Kottsieper 1. Preliminary Remarks During the excavations of North-Israelite Tel Dan in 1993 a fragment of an inscription written on a basalt stela was found and immediately published by the excavator A. Biran and the epigrapher J. Naveh.2 This finding initiated a controversial debate mainly about the question whether bytdivd in 1. 9 should be interpreted as 'House of David' or not.3 In 1994 two other fragments obviously of the same stone were found and also published by Biran and Naveh immediately (Biran and Naveh 1995). Both fragments not only show a clear join4 but the editors also observed the possibility of a small physical join with fragment A 'below the surface at line 5' (Biran and Naveh 1995: 11). Immediately their reconstruction, which confirmed the interpretation of bytdwd as 'House of David',5 was doubted by some scholars. 1. This contribution is a revised and extended version of Kottsieper 1998. 2. Biran and Naveh 1993; Biran 1994: 275-8. Henceforth, this fragment is called A. 3. Especially for those scholars who assume that the depiction of the pre-exilic times found in the Old Testament is a post-exilic fiction and David 'as historical as King Arthur' (Davies 1994: 55) the obvious interpretation of bytdwd as 'House of David' was disconcerting. Thus they proposed different interpretations like 'House of Dod' (Knauf, de Pury, and Romer 1994: 65-7). But this interpretation not only would introduce a Canaanism but would also imply that the long vowel [5] was written plene which elsewhere is not found in the Old Aramaic inscriptions from the 9th century BCE (cf. also the more detailed discussion by Na'aman 1995) Such writings only occur in texts from the 5th century BCE or later (Beyer 1984:441). Thus also the considerations of Miiller 1995: 126f. are to be rejected. By the way, the use of Dod/Dad as a name of a god used independently is not found elsewhere (Barstad and Becking 1995: 5). On the other hand, it was doubted that byt could be the word for 'house' because this would be an unusual plene-writing in an Old Aramaic text (Lemche and Thompson 1994: 9; for the assumption that this is a plene-writing cf. also Halpern 1995: 68). But of course, y here is written for the diphthong [ay] (Beyer 1984: 116-20). Thus there is no reason to denote the writing as 'causing considerable orthographic difficulty' (Cryer 1994: 12). 4. Henceforth, these joined fragments are called B. 5. The new fragments offer strong evidence that in 11. 8-9 'Ahaziah, the son of Joram, the king of the bytdwd' is mentioned which makes the interpretation of bytdwd as 'House of David' inevitable. And even the missing dividing dot between byt and dwd, which was presented as an argument against this interpretation e.g. by Davies 1994: 54 and Cryer 1994:

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But a critical examination shows that the reconstruction proposed by Biran and Naveh is convincing.6 Also their readings and interpretations of the preserved parts of the inscription are in most places correct. Thus this article takes their work as a solid basis. But a critical investigation of their reconstruction of the text's gaps shows that they sometimes do not fit. Moreover, a crucial point for the interpretation of the whole text is the question whether 1. 2 mentions a war or not. Against Biran's and Naveh's assumption, which was accepted by nearly all other scholars, this article will show that for semantic and logical reasons 1. 2 in fact refers to a treaty between Aram and Israel and not to a war between them. Naturally, this result sheds new light on the historical events the inscription speaks of and also on the historical setting in which these events happened. This inscription is of great value not only for the reconstruction of the history of Aram and Israel but also for the history of the Aramaic language. Thus it shows an early state of the Aramaic verbal system in which the short imperfect with and without waw was still used for the narration of a chain of events.7 The epigraphical and philological commentary mainly deals with those parts of the text where my interpretation differs from the interpretations proposed by Biran and Naveh. The historical commentary discusses some issues of the history of Aram-Damascus and its relations with Israel which the text mentions. It should be no surprise that such a new source sheds new light also on the biblical sources. But, since it would make this article much too long if I would discuss in detail the older literature and the different opinions of other scholars, I shall restrict myself only to an outline of the historical events as they appear in the light of this inscription and the biblical sources. 2. The Physical Reconstruction of the Inscription As stated above the join between fragment B and fragment A was doubted by several scholars. Their arguments are:8

13-4, has now found its parallel in the comparable construct phrase mlk ysr'l in 1. 1 of the new fragments. By the way, such an occasionally missing dividing dot is no surprise for a trained epigrapher as Rainey 1994 has rightly pointed out, cf. also Couturier 2001: 82-93, who presents a a lot of parallels. 6. Cf. the next section. 7. Kottsieper 1999. The assumption of Cryer 1994: 11 that the dialect was a kind of '"Mischsprache" or a genuine local pidgin consisting of Phoenician, Aramaic, and "Canaanite" elements' is linguistically unfounded. 8. Cf. the overview of Becking 1999: 192, who emphasizes that 'these arguments have ... never been refuted or discarded'. But such will be done here. Cf. also Wesselius 2001: 87-9, but he mainly argues about the possibility of restoring a good text at the ends of 11. 6-8 of B continuing on A. Though surely this supports the possibility of the restoration proposed by Biran and Naveh, it is by far the weakest argument.

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l.The fragments were found on different spots. 2.The fragments show different scripts. 3.The lines do not fit. ad 1) It is true that the fragments were found on different spots at a distance of some metres. But obviously after the stela's demolition the fragments have been reused as building material when the walls of Dan were rebuilt. Consequently, this argument is not valid.9 ad 2) A detailed analysis of the script shows some differences between the signs. But they do not reveal a variance which goes beyond the variance to be expected in such an inscription. Even more, these differences can be observed on the single fragments themselves. Thus e.g., the different shapes of the waw heads, which for Cryer 1995:225 and Becking 1996:22 are a strong argument for the assumption of different scripts, even on A alone show some obvious variances. And the waws on B clearly correspond to the main form of the waws on A (Athas 2003: 146). And even Cryer and Becking admit that A and B could have been written by the same scribe.10 Also the detailed palaeographic analysis of Athas leads to the conclusion 'that the script of Fragment B is very close, if not identical, to the script of Fragment A' (Athas 2003: 164).n ad 3) Becking 1996: 24 points to the fact that the distance between the lines on A and B are slightly different. And Athas 2003: 178-80 had observed a different slant of the lines of A and B. It is obvious that the reconstruction of Biran and Naveh do not result in straight lines. But a closer examination of the fragments also weakens this argument. As clearly can be observed on A, even on this fragment the lines are not straight. Thus 11. 3-5 start nearly horizontally but then they bend downwards. And the preserved part of 1. 2 also shows this slant downwards but at the end the scribe obviously tried to write horizontally. Also the comparison of 1. 7 and 8 reveals a significant variation between the lines. Line 8 is nearly horizontal but 1. 7 starts with a little slant upwards. Then, after the }l of }lpy the line bends downwards. Thus the space between these two lines varies significantly. And 1. 7 also shows that sometimes the writer has written a word or a part of it below or above the line. Thus prs is written horizontally but a bit lower then the preceding word. Another example is the aleph at the end of B 6 which is clearly written above the line. And 1. 4 of B provides us with a good example that also on this fragment the lines are not straight. The first two letters are written on a horizontal line which after them bends upwards. But the degree of this new slant decreases in the last word. Thus this argument against the reconstruction of Biran and Naveh is not decisive - it only would be if the 9. Cf. also the more detailed information given by Athas 2003: 5-17. 10. Cf. Cryer 1995: 225: 'All of the fragments are, however, written in essentially the same script. They could be products of the same school, or even the same individual after some years' interval' and Becking 1996: 22: 'They [scil. the three fragments, I. K.] might have been written by the same person, though on different occasions.' As Dietrich 1997: 30 rightly states, this 'wirkt fast verzweifelt'. 11. Thus also Becking 2003: 19 now admits that A and B do belong to one inscription.

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fragments would show that the scribe did write straight lines - but obviously he did not!12 Thus all arguments against the reconstruction proposed by Biran and Naveh are not convincing. Of course, this result does not prove its correctness. But some other observations show that most probably they are right. 1. A and B can be joined below the surface even though the area of the join is small and the join itself is not unequivocal. 2.The reconstruction shows the upper right margin of B and the lower left margin of A as parts of a crack running through the stone starting in the upper left area and running down to the lower right margin. 3. Also the lower right margin of B and the upper left of A can be interpreted as parts of another crack running from the lower left margin to the upper right margin of the stone and crossing the first one. These two cracks can easily be explained by the way the stone was destroyed. Probably first two deep slices were hammered into the stone running crosswise from the edges of the stela. Then hammering the chisel deep into the crossing point would have broken the stone into four smaller parts which then easily could be destroyed further. Thus the break between Bl and B2 probably was done by hammering the chisel in the middle of the fragment between 11. 5 and 6. Taking all these observations together, the reconstruction proposed by Biran and Naveh can be accepted as highly probable, if not sure.13 And the fact that it allows a good reconstruction of the text then can be taken as further evidence.

12. By the way, the restoration proposed by Athas 2003: 27-32, 189-191, who argues with the different slants of the lines - overlooking the fact that they are bending - is based on most unlikely speculations. He assumes that the scribe was on his knees at the slab's lower end which was laid on its back. Thus the scriber had to lean over the stone and to overstretch his arm to write the first lines. And obviously he stayed at his place without moving left or right or maybe back during his work. This would have been an awkward scribe! He could easily have been sitting or kneeling on the stone - it is a stone! - while writing the first lines. This would have been much more comfortable. And since - if our restoration is correct - the slab probably was only about 45 cm wide, it would be even more comfortable to kneel beside the stone for writing the upper lines. There is no problem with writing a text beginning only 45 cm to the right of one's position. By the way, though the assumption that the writing was done from right to left is quite possible, it is by no means sure. Thus, e.g., many Arabian writers write on a sheet turned 45°-90° using a nearly top-down writing to prevent the blurring of what they wrote with their right hand. On the other hand, our observations about the bending of the line and the fact that the signs which are not in line with the foregoing often are at the beginning of a word hint at a different picture. Probably the writer often stopped his writing to check it and to adjust his position to a more comfortable one. 13. Cf. also Lemaire 1998: 3.

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The right margin of the inscription is preserved for 11. 3-13. In 11. 5-13 it nearly runs vertically but 1. 4 starts a bit more left and 1. 3 even more. Thus the inscription was probably written on a surface which was not rectangular but showed an oval upper margin. Since the restoration of the end of 1. 3 with a shin and of the end of 1. 8 with ywrm • ml is highly probable, 1. 3 did end about two signs before 1. 8. This also speaks for an oval shaped upper margin. That the differences between the lines' ends are greater than at the beginnings of the lines may have two causes: a) the oval shaped upper margin was not totally symmetrical but a little out of centre to the right, b) The writer - like many other ancient writers - decided ad hoc where exactly to start a new line when he reached the area of the lines' ends. Since doubtless 1. 2 ends with a word, he decided not to start the new word there. Writing 1. 3 he reached with the shin a point beyond the end of 1. 2 and decided to break the line here even though he could have written the next resh still on this line. In 1. 4 the last word ended also a little beyond the end of 1. 2 and near the outermost margin. Thus he also started a new line here. The next lines then fill the place completely.14

14. Thus it is not necessary to assume that on the left of the inscription something was depicted which shaped the left margin as I did in Kottsieper 1998: 477.

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4. The Text

(1) [ }]mr -c[d3 - tgzr • ly • }wgzr*[ • >bk] (2) [lbr]h?[dd\ • 3by • ysq?[ - znh • lh]t?lhmh • b>b\y] (3) wyskb • 3by • yhk • 3l[ • 3bhw]h • urfl • mlk y[s] (4) r»/ • qdm • Vrq • >by[ • w]y?hmlk • hdd[ • ]3[yty] (5) }nh • wyhk • hdd • qdtny[ • w\3pq • mn? • sbc[t • yivm} (6) y • mlky • ufqtl • ml[k]n?[ • sb]c?n • 3sry • }[lpyn • r] (7) kb • uSlpy • prs •[ w>qtl • >yt • yw\rm • br -[Wb • h> (?)] (8) mlk • ysr>l • wqtl[t • 3yt • 3hz]yhw • br[ • ywrm . ml] (9) k • bytdivd • u?sm •[ -3] 3 (10) yt • rq • hm • l[ (11) 3hr iv • m\ (U) Ik • cl • ystfl • (13)msr- c /[

5. Translation [... s]aid: '[A/The ]tre[aty conclude with me] as has concluded [your father] (2) [with] my father [Bar-Hadad.]' Thus [this one] went up [to a]lly himself with [my] father. (3) And my father lay down (and) went to his [fathers]. But the king of I[s](4)rael (3) invaded (4) Qdm (which is) in the land of my father. [But] Hadad made m[e] (5) - me! - (4) king. (5) And Hadad went in front of me, [and] I set out after seve[n day](6)s of my reign. And I killed [sev]enty kin[g]s. I led away [two ]th[ousend ch](7)ariots and thousands of horses. [And I killed Jo]ram, the son of [Ahab, who was (?)] (8) the king of Israel. Also I kill[ed Ahaz]iah, the son[ of Joram, the kin](9)g of the House of David. Then I placed/set up [ ] (10) their land to (?) [ ] (11) others, and to [ Jehu as (?) k](12)ing over Is[rael ] (13) siege against [

6. Epigraphical and Philological Commentary 6.1 Lines 1-2 The restoration of 11. 1-2 is based on the following observations: The reading wgzr? at the end of the preserved part of 1. 1 is indisputable.15 In a text which like this one deals with political history the assumption is probably that here a concluded treaty was mentioned. This is also in accordance with the fact that 1. 2 speaks about allying and not of war as it is assumed by nearly all scholars. 15. The long vertical stem at the end can only belong to gimel, watv, or resh but with wgz only resh makes sense; Biran and Naveh 1995: 13; Athas 2003: 79-80.

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Normally Aramaic Ihm does not mean 'to fight' but 'to be (close) connected'. Thus in Christian Palestinian Aramaic the Gt-stem occurs with the meaning 'to be joined together' (said of a building) and in Syriac the Gt- and Dt- stems mean 'to fit, connect, to be fitted, to unite' which also can be said of people.16 However, the Syriac also shows a negative connotation of this root. Thus it cannot only mean 'to harry, threaten' but also connotes an angry or raging action against someone.17 This meaning is also to be found in the stela from Bukan where a curse occurs against those who would remove the stela or its inscription 'out of rage or with peaceful intentions'.18 Thus the only occurrence of the root ttpn with the connotation 'war' in an Aramaic text is Ahiqar X (54) 5 (= Cowley 188). But there 3rb mttpn 'the guile of war'19 occurs in an admonition which clearly shows Canaanite influence.20 Thus this occurrence can safely be assumed as a Canaanism. Since our inscription tells us in 1. 3, subsequent to the phrase }t?lhmh21 • b*b[, about the death of the father of the person who formulated the inscription and deals with the attack of the king of Israel against Aram subsequent to this note, it would hardly be understandable why the fighting was also mentioned at this early point. And since it can be shown that the person speaking is Hazael and the king attacking Joram,22 one would run into the historical difficulty that there is no hint of a war between Israel and Aram just 16. Cf. bhd fnf 3tlhmw 'they united themselves in one people' (Payne Smith 1901: 1929a). 17. Thus a Ihfm is someone who is raging against or angry with someone else (Payne Smith 1901:1927f.) and the noun lufjomois translated by Syrian and Arabian lexicographers with Syriac hemto or Arabic hanaq, hiqd, or gadab, which all denote 'rage, anger', or even Arabic bigda 'hate'. 18. Commonly the phrase blhmh 3w bslm is understood as 'in war or in peace' but such an expression would be most unusual in this context. The parallels show that here a description not of the circumstances but of the motivations is to be expected, cf. especially KAI26 A HI 12ss. and RIMA n A.0.101.17 v 96ss.; for a discussion of this text cf. Kottsieper 2007. 19. Or, maybe better, 'the guile of a warrior' since a masculine mlhm with the meaning 'war' has no parallel. Thus it can be taken as a participle D. This solution is corroborated by

the fact that 3rb mlhm is paralleled by 3rb pm where pm is a genetivus subjectivus. 20. The word 3rb is not found in other Aramaic dialects (for the apparent occurrences in the Babylonian Talmud cf. now Sokoloff 2002: 162b). Thus it is to count under the many Canaanite borrowings in the dialect of the proverbs of Ahiqar (Kottsieper 1990: 244). Also arguing for a Canaanism is the observation that obviously the proverb uses a wordplay with orb 'guile' and 'orobba 'opening' (cf. Ugaritic urbt and Hebrew 3arubba which Hieronymus in Hos. 13.3 reads as orobba). Thus the 'guile of war/warrior' is compared with the 'guile/ opening of the mouth' - a wordplay which could evolve only in a Canaanite environment. 21. The reading taw at the end of the gap is certain. The only other possibility would be kaph (Athas 2003: 8Of.) but the trace left of the little stem pointing upwards fits better a taw than a kaph. A mem as proposed by Tropper 1996: 642 (also Na'aman 2000: 97) is completely ruled out because most of the head should been seen and would be overwritten by the following lamed. Also a comparison of the other occurences of ml (11. 3.4.6.8) clearly show the impossibility of this reading while the traces of tl in 1. 8 correspond well with the traces in 1. 2. 22. Cf. section 7.2.

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before the death of Hadadezer. In contrast, 2 Kgs 8.7-15 implies a situation of peace between Aram and Israel at the end of the life of Bar-Hadad and 8.28 states that Joram had begun the war after Bar-Hadad's death. Taking all this evidence together, there can be no doubt that the f-stem of Itym in 1. 2 is to be understood as a word which denotes allying which is in accordance not only with its proper Aramaic use but also with the occurrence of gzr in 1. 1. Since after a reflexive f-stem one would not expect a suffix and the following beth obviously introduces the person whom the coalition was made with, it is clear that here an infinitive is to be read. The trace after b? obviously belongs to a beth.23 Thus the end of the line may be read as a form of Jb. Since obviously 1. 3 speaks about 'my father' the reading tfby fits the context well. Our interpretation of ]t?lhmh also allows a better restoration of the preceding gap. The reading ysq?[- clwh • lh]t?lhmh is not completely impossible but this would lead to a dense writing which would not be in accordance with the writing before and after the gap. But since the interpretation of ]t?lfynh in a hostile sense is to be rejected there is no need to assume a clwh in the middle of the gap. On the other hand, 3lwh would also be a bit too long while Ih or h> are too short. The best solution seems to be znh though it does not occur as a subject in the other early Aramaic texts. But since the use of the pronouns as substantives is well attested in Old Aramaic, the missing of a parallel for such a construction is obviously by chance.24 Thus the preceding 3by is not the subject of ysq. This is corroborated by the observation that always elsewhere the short imperfect used as a kind of narrative appears at the beginning of the sentence. Obviously wgzr (1. 1) opens a new sentence. Since 1. 2 tells about someone going up to ally with the 'writer's' father it would be a little bit strange if the making of the treaty would have been already told in 1. 1. But it is to be taken into acount that gzr is not a (short) imperfect which the text normally uses for the narration. Thus gzr could be an imperative and belong to an invitation to make a treaty. The other possibility is to take gzr as a perfect which tells about a different treaty being concluded before. The last seems to be true. A detailed analysis of the stone before • 'by in 1. 2 shows that the last letter of the foregoing word only could have been a daleth or maybe a lamed.25 The 23. The reading pe deemed as possible by Biran and Naveh 1993: 13 is not convincing (Athas 2003:81). Also a yod or shin which were considered by Athas 2003: 82 are improbable. The tail of a yod normally runs more horizontally and if it fits the slant of the trace here it is shorter. On the other hand, the right stem of a shin is usually written more vertically and the shin would be written too much below the line. That a beth here would be located a little higher than the normal line is no objection because the writing of the foregoing b3 clearly shows that at this point the line bends upwards. 24. The restoration ysg\pnh • bh]tlhmh proposed by Wesselius 1999: 173,176 would be a bit short and taking into account that the text uses the short imperfect as a 'narrative' (cf. note 47 and Kottsieper 1999: 61) one would expect ysgph which would be even shorter. 25. A lamed was proposed by Tropper 1996: 642 and Schniedewind 1996: 77. A yod proposed by Athas 2003: 45-6 is less likely.

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sign before also possessed no long stem and also can only be a daleth, lamed, or ayin.26 Of the next letter to the right the trace of a stem slanted to the left is visible. This can be restored as a gimel, he, waw, samekh, qoph, resh, or maybe sade.27 Before this letter there is room for 3 more letters of which no clear traces are discernible. Since the last letter is most likely a daleth the restoration of xbrhdd fits the traces well.28 Thus 3by would be an apposition to the name Bar-Hadad which raises the question who is speaking here. Since the predecessor of Hazael, who was the 'author' of this inscription,29 was Hadadezer, Hazael himself cannot be the speaker at this point of the text. Thus if our restoration is right we have to assume that this part belongs to a quotation of a speech of a predecessor of Hazael. This is corroborated by the mr30 at the beginning of the preserved parts of 1. 1 which can easily be completed to a form of }mr.31 Since after the cited speech, which ends with }by in 1. 2, it is told that a person went up to ally with the 'author's' father it can be assumed that in this speech he was invited to do so. The speech begins with an ayin which can be taken as the first letter of a form of cd 'treaty' and the simplest formulation of such an invitation fits exactly into the gap: c[d? • tgzr • ly • ].32 Since the second part of this speech probably mentions the father of the speaker the easiest restoration of the sentence beginning with wgzr seems to be 26. An alef&s proposed by Wesselius 1999:173,175 is unlikely because the traces of the lower part should been seen on the preserved surface. 27. A heth also deemed as possible by Athas 2003: 48-9 can be ruled out because traces of the lowest stave should be visible. Also a yod (Tropper 1996: 642) is not possible. It too should have left traces on the preserved surface. 28. Cf. Puech 1994: 218-19, 221 who restores wbr • hdd. The reading hz>l proposed by Wesselius 1999: 173, 175 is impossible. Leaving aside the problem that the aleph is most unlikely (cf. note 26), the reading is too short and the contemporary inscriptions show the writing hz?l as Wesselius 1999: 173 rightly observed. 29. Cf. section 7.2. 30. Biran and Naveh 1995: 90. As rightly Schniedewind 1996: 79 stated, the reading st (thus Tropper 1993: 401) instead of a mem is improbable because 'the taw would then seem to be too close to the sin'. But Athas 2003: 36 defended the reading of Tropper hinting at tl in 1. 8 where these two letters are 'occurring much closer together'. But this is a different case. There the right stem of the lamed ends beneath the left stem of the taw. In 1. 1 the left stem of the taw would run into the right stem of the shin. Athas' main argument for the reading shin was that the left stroke of the sign 'leans markedly to the left' (Athas 2003: 37). But also this must be rejected. A close examination of the traces shows that this is simply not true. Only the lower part of the trace seems to lean to the left but then clearly the stroke bends to a vertical line which would be strange for a shin. Since the left stroke of a mem sometimes turns into a vertical stem (cf. e.g. the mem in qdmy \. 5) this reading cannot to be doubted. 31. Since the context is lost it cannot be decided if we have to read a perfect or an imperfect form. 32. Of course, the exact formulation is not sure. The main question is which form of cd is to be used. Since the expression gbr cdn in KAI 222 B 24 and the fact that cd elsewhere is always used in the plural one also may assume cdn as a pluralum tantum (Kaufman 1974: 33). If the singular form was used also the suffixed cdk 'your treaty' would be possible. The restorations proposed by Lipiriski 2000: 373 (c[mry •]) and Wesselius 1999: 173, 175 (c[bdy • mlk' •]) can be ruled out because they are too short.

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wgzr 3bk33 Ibrhdd 3by. Obviously,this statement e x p l a i nwhy s the addressee of this speech should conclude the treaty: Since or as your father did it with my father you should do it also with me.34 6.2 Line 4 Most scholars who in 1. 2 take Ihm in the sense of 'to fight, battle' explain the fact that then in 1. 4 again the attack of the king of Israel on Aram would been told by the interpretation of qdm as an adverb of time with the meaning 'formerly, previously'. Leaving the question aside why the inscription would tell this fact again, which alone puts this interpretation into question, there are some other observations which argue against this assumption. l.So far as I can see, there are no other unequivocal occurrences of qdm used as an adverb.35 2.In Old Aramaic, the short imperfect can be used as a consecutive to narrate events which follow each other but there is no instance of a use to express the past perfect (Kottsieper 1999: 57-62). 3.In Old Aramaic, the root fll is construed with direct object (KAI 222 A 6; B 35) and not with beth. And in Official Aramaic f// b normally is used when someone enters something closed like a house or a fortress, while entering a land or an area is expressed with cll I.36 Taking all these observations together it seems unlikely that qdm is used here as an adverb. Thus it is to be interpreted as a designation of the region the king of Israel invaded which is in accord with the use of cll with the direct object in Old Aramaic. The question arises of which region qdm was the name. Qdm in Sinuhe's story is the name of a place or region to which Sinuhe turned back after he had reached Byblos and before he settled for a longer time in South Palestine (8.6-11).37 Since in Sinuhe's story the Phoenician coast is called fnh (31.4), 33. Since the inscription nowhere shows the writing of long vowels in the middle of a word the later writing 'bwk for ['abuka] is not to be expected here. 34. For the paratactic formulation of a logical subordinated sentence cf. Degen 1969: § 89. 35. Normally qdm is used as a preposition. On the other hand, only the plural of qdm 'the time before' is used adverbially in Official Aramaic. Also in T. Fecheriye 15 qdm in the phrase zy qdm obviously is not an adverb ('which was formerly') but most probably the noun qdm: 'which is of the time before', cf. e.g. zy skn 'who is of Skn' (1. 13). Thus it translates the Akkadian mah-re-e (11. 23-4) and corresponds to the noun qdmy. 36 Hoftijzer and Jongeling 1995: 857.1 do not understand the argumentation of Lipinski 2000: 373 who emphasizes that 'the word qdm cannot be the direct object of the verb cll... since cll is used here with the preposition b'. This would only be convincing if normally ell would be used with this preposition which clearly is not the fact. 37 Even though the story seems not to be well informed about Syria-Palestine it is beyond doubt that the author did know qdm as a name of a region. Thus he also speaks about a king of Qdm (31.2). If qdm would have been just the word for 'east', how then could it have been used by an Egyptian author for an Egyptian audience as a designation of

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Qdm is best sought in the area south-east of Byblos and most probably is to be found east of the Antilibanon or the upper Jordan. In the OT qdm occurs in phrases like bny qdm or hrry qdm. Especially Job 1.3, where Job is called the greatest among the 'sons of qdm\ shows qdm as a designation of the region around the Hauran where the story obviously locates him (Maag 1982: 14-16). And, following Num. 23.7, Balaam came from Aram paralleled with the 'mountains of qdm' (Miiller 1978: 61). Probably also the 'sons of qdm' associated with Midian and Amalek in Judg. 6-8 came from the northern regions of Transjordan. Originally the story only told about Midian who was thought to invade Palestine from South Jordan. Obviously Amalek and the 'sons of qdm' were introduced to strengthen Israel's danger at this time. Since Amalek is an enemy from South Palestine, the 'sons of qdm' should be understood as enemies from the north-east. Thus it seems to be best to take qdm as a designation of the open country east of the more urban regions of Aram and Israel in which mainly Aramaean and (later) Arabian tribes lived - the 'sons of qdm'. This also explains the following tfrq }by. It is to be interpreted as an apposition which emphasizes that the area invaded was a part of the territory of the Aramaean king with whom the aggressor had concluded a treaty before his death.38 6.3 Lines 5-6 At the end of the line there is place for 4-5 signs. The reading sbc[t • ywm]\y • mlky fits well and provides a good sense.39 Thus mlky is to be interpreted as a specific region? Thus he and his audience must have known that this area was called qdm by Syrians. 38. This interpretation was already considered by Biran and Naveh 1995: 14-5 but rejected in favour for the interpretation of qdm as an adverb. That I introduce a relative clause in my translation is just a matter of German or English style but no argument against my interpretation as Lipinski 2000: 373-4 insinuates. An apposition construed with a preposition is common in Semitic languages, cf. e.g. Degen 1969: § 69d or Brockelmann 1913: § 187a. By the way, Lipinski's restoration b'rq 3by[l\ 'into the land of Abl[l]' must be rejected. Not only would this require the broadening of the gap between A and B by one sign

(if this would be correct the restorations of 11. 3 and 8 where Lipinski 2000: 373, 378 follows the editio princeps would be too short!) but would also show an instance of writing of long [I] which is uncommon in this inscription, cf. e.g. dwd and }sm in 1. 8. Also the reading }lby instead of }by proposed by Athas 2003: 55-7 can be ruled out. The trace which Athas takes as the top of a lamed does not well fit this letter. As the photograph given by Athas 2003: 56 reveals, this trace shows a clear bending into a more horizontal line at its lower end, which contradicts the form of a lamed. And a lamed would be placed too close to the aleph as a comparison with the other occurrences of •*/ (11.4, 7) unmistakably shows. Thus we must stick to the assumption that there was something wrong with the stone which caused the writer to place the beth a little bit further left. 39. Also Puech 1994: 218-19, 266 - though on the basis of a not convincing restoration of fragment A - proposed the word for 'day' at the end of this line. But his reading ym\y would be Hebrew and not Aramaic. The restoration sbc[t •cd]\y proposed by Margalit 1994b: 318-9 does not fit the gap as Margalit himself admits but also uses the Hebrew word sbch for 'oath' which does not occur in Aramaic. The reading of Lipinski 2000: 378 ([ivy]3pq • mn • sb

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an inf. cs. G with the sf. l.c.sg.40 For the use of mn together with an expression of date meaning 'after' cf. Judg. 11.4 and Hos. 6.2. Instead of sb]cn also sq]pn 'strong' would be possible.41 6.4 Lines 6-7 Obviously in 11. 6-7 the enemies' cavalry is mentioned. At the end of 1. 6 afte the aleph there is room for 4-5 signs and a dividing dot. Since 1. 7 starts with kb • uflpy • prs the restoration of a form of 3lp and a resh at the end of 1. 6 is convincing. But two questions arise which are closely related to each other: Is prs to be read as [parras] 'horseman' as is usual in Aramaic or should it be read as [paras] with the meaning 'horse'?42 Does the inscription tell at this point about the booty or about further killings. At first sight, the fact that prs in later Aramaic does not occur with the meaning 'horse' would advocate for the solution that in 1. 7 'horsemen' are meant. Thus one would expect the statement that they have been killed. And this would lead to taking *sry as an apposition to the mlkn and to interpret it as a ptc. G m.pl. of 3sr ('which were harnessing', Biran and Naveh 1995:16). But this interpretation is not unproblematic. First, elsewhere in Aramaic 3sr is not used with the meaning 'to harness a chariot'.43 Second, the picture that the kings themselves would harness all these chariots is a bit strange. There is no parallel for such a statement and the use of the expression with a figurative meaning of 'possessing' or 'using' chariots would be singular.44 Since contemporaneous war reports often tell about the chariots and horses being carried off at the end of a battle,45 it seems to be more likely that also • c[/ • ysd\\y • mlky) is impossible. Clearly there is no dividing dot after sb\ Also the restoration at the beginning would be possible only if one broadens the gap by one sign. Though the reading sbc[t • fbd]\y (Wesselius 2001: 86f.) would fit the gap, his interpretation, taking sbct as a by-form of Hebrew spct, is not convincing. It is based on his interpretation of the text as 'written' by Jehu (Wesselius 1999) which can be ruled out, cf. note 62. 40. Biran and Naveh 1995: 16 following a suggestion of Ahituv 1993: 246 interpreted the word as 'my kingdom'. But their tentative translation 'And I went forth (to war) outside the seven [districts] (?) of my kingdom' contradicts the context. The inscription tells about the defence of the Aramaean king against an invasion of the king of Israel! 41. Cf. Lemaire 1998: 3.8 (tq]pn) and Lipinski 2000: 378 (tqy]pn). The second reading must be rejected because it presupposes the writing of [I] (cf. note 38) and to both is the objection that most probably the later Aramaic tqp is derived from *tqp. Thus here it should appear as sqp which would also fit the gap better then tqp. But cf. also note 81. Since the trace before the nun can not belong to a yod (cf. Athas 2003: 87 for the possible restorations) the restoration sryn (Wesselius 1999: 173,181-2) must be rejected. 42. Cf. Hebrew, Arabic, Sabaic, and the Ethiopic languages. 43. Thus the Targumin and the Peshitta do not use }sr to translate Hebrew }sr where it is used with the meaning 'to harness a chariot or horse', cf. Exod. 14.6; 1 Kgs 18.44; 2 Kgs 9.21; and Jer. 46.4. 44. Of course, the construction with a participle must be distinguished from the statement that a king had harnessed his chariot or horse. This is used to mark the beginning of a campaign or a journey, cf. Exod. 14.6; 1 Kgs 18.44; and 2 Kgs 9.21. If this would have been meant in 1. 6, one would expect a relative clause with a perfect. 45. Cf. e.g. RIMA HI A.0.102.6.

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here such a statement was made. Thus *sry should be interpreted as a form from a root sry (a variant of the well known root swr). Probably, this root is identical with Arabic sry 'to go (away)'.46 Then 'sry should be interpreted as a short imperfect D l.c.sg. with the meaning 'I lead away'.47 And we have to accept that the [qatal] prs with the meaning 'horse' also was used in Old Aramaic.48 At the end of 1. 6 }[lp • k] would be a bit too short. Since Shalmaneser III mentions 2,000 chariots of the army of Ahab it seems likely that also at this point 2,000 chariots were mentioned.49 Muraoka 1995: 20-1 had pointed to the fact that there is no instance of a construct form of the dual of numerals like 100 or 1,000.50 Thus it seems best to restore at the end of 1. 6 >[lpyn - k], which also fits the gap quite well, and to take the construct form 3lpy in 1. 7 with the meaning 'thousands of. 6.5 Lines 7-8 Since the kings of Israel and Judah were killed after the battle, one should restore in the gap rather ufqtl than wqtlt because the inscription normally uses the short imperfect to express the progress of events (Kottsieper 1999: 61-2). That the king of Israel was Joram, the son of Ahab, cannot be doubted. Though of the king's name only the end rm is preserved and of the name of the king of Judah only the ending yhw, Joram and Ahaziah are the only known pair of kings with corresponding names.51 But the reading yhtvrm for Joram would be too long. Thus we have to restore the shorter form ywrm (= [yauram]) which also appears in the Bible besides yhivrm.52 Doubtless at the end of 1. 7 3tyb is to be restored. But this leaves still the room for a dividing point and two more letters. Since it is not impossible but not

46. If this is correct then Arabic sariyyatun 'troop' can not to be derived from this root. Sabaean s1nv(y)t shows that this word belongs to Sjiw and not to s3ry. 47. By the way, this clarifies that the imperfect forms used in this text for the narration are really short imperfect. A long imperfect should appear as 'srh (Kottsieper 1990: § 284). 48. Maybe the word occurs also in KAI202 B 2 but there the context is not preserved. 49. Cf. page 124. 50. The occurrence of the dual-form sqly which Biran and Naveh 1995: 16 cites is no convincing argument against the observation of Muraoka (thus Lemaire 1998: 9) because this is not the dual of a numerals. Of course, we cannot rule out the possibility of such a form. 51. Cf. also Dietrich 1997: 30f. The doubts of Knauf 1996:10 against this identification are based on his wrong conclusion that the 'author' of the inscription could not be Hazael and on the correct observation that he cannot be Jehu. 52. Schniedewind 1996: 80. The restoration yhwrm was proposed by Biran and Naveh 1995: 12, 16. The reading with yw is in accord with the Jahwistic name cmdyw found on stamps from the 8th century which were discovered at Tel Dan (Rollig 2003: 350, nt 16.63). That Ahaziah is written with -yhw may be taken as an argument that the names with yw were more common in Israel while in Judah the yhw names were used more often (Norin 1986: 43). But the name of his father also was obviously written ywrm - ybwrm at the end of 1. 8 would also be a bit too long. Maybe the Aramaean writer did not understand the dialectal difference between both names.

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very probable that sometimes the writer did write a slightly shorter line,53 it is possible that a short word followed the father's name. Taking into consideration that Joram is not mentioned by name throughout the narrative about the battle, maybe a fr with the meaning 'who is ...' should be restored at the end of the line. Thus the inscription would emphasize the identity of the king of Israel who invaded Aram with Joram, the son of Ahab, 'who was the king of Israel'. 6.6 Lines 8-9 Since throughout this text the short imperfect is used to narrate events happening one after the other, the fact that the sentence stating the killing of Ahaziah is introduced by a perfect form shows that from the 'author's' viewpoint the killing of Ahaziah was an event which did not simply follow the killing of Joram. Obviously the inscription wants to present it as an event which did happen together with the killing of Joram. Thus it uses waw + perfect with the meaning 'and also I killed' and not the imperfect which would have the connotation 'and then I killed' (cf. page 126). Undoubtedly, the restoration *I?z]yhw • br[ • ywrm • ml]\k • bytdwd at the end of 1. 8 and the beginning of 1. 9 is correct as the parallel phrase yw]rm • br -[ 3h3b • h3 (?)/ I mlk • ysr>l shows.54 Thus it also fits into the space which is probably left after the break. There is also no doubt that bytdwd means Judah.55 6.7 Lines 9-10 Biran and Naveh restored 11. 9-10 as ufsrn -[3yt - qryt • hm • hrbt • ufhpk • 3]\yt • 3rq • hm • l\ysmn.56 Though this fits quite well the space left in 1. 9 this reading is naturally quite uncertain. Also the fact that Ifysmn is not convincing - there should be traces of the yod! - make this restoration questionable. Thus only the 3yt at the end of line 8 and beginning of 1. 9 is probable.57 6.8 Lines 11-12 The restoration [m]\lk • cl - ysr3! suggests itself in 1. 11-12. Since the death of Joram was told five lines before one may assume that this is a reference to Jehu who became 'king over Israel' after Joram.58 53. Cf. e.g. the Mesha inscription. 54. The objections against this restoration proposed by Lipiriski 2000: 378-9 are not correct. Though he would be right if the reading }h}b at the end of 1. 7 would mark the utmost left margin he forgets even his own restorations of 11.5 and 6 which imply that the left margin was reached more to the left. Thus his restoration at the end of 1. 8 (br[h • ml]) would clearly be too short. 55. Cf. now also Couturier 2001: 73-82. 56. Biran and Naveh 1993: 93; 1995: 17. 57. Less probable is the restoration qr]\yt which Schniedewind 1996: 77 proposed. Instead of the expression 'the cities of their land' one would expect just 'their cities'. 58. The formula [tn]\\k cl ysr7 (11. 11-12) would fit into a statement about an enthronement, cf. e.g. KAI202 A 3; Judg. 9-15; 1 Sam. 15.1; 2 Sam. 4.7; 1 Kgs 1.34, 14.14. Cf. also page 126 and Biran and Naveh 1995: 17.

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7.1 The Content and the Function of the Inscription If my interpretation of this inscription is correct then it tells us about the following events: First it is mentioned that Joram, the king of Israel, concluded a treaty with the 'father' of the Aramaean king who 'wrote' the inscription (1. 2).59 In this context another treaty is mentioned which was concluded with the king's 'grandfather' probably by the father of Joram, Ahab (11. 1-2). But after the 'father' of the king had died (1. 3), obviously the 'author' did not become king at once. Joram took advantage of the situation in which Aram-Damascus was without a king to invade the eastern region of the Aramaean territory (11. 3-4). But then the 'author' was made king by Hadad (11.4-5). The formulation of this event, which obviously emphasizes the fact that he and no other was enthroned by Hadad, allows the assumption that this was not self-evident. After he had become king he faced the aggressor and defeated his army (11. 5-7). Only after this he killed Joram together with Ahaziah, the king of Judah (11. 7-9). Probably 11.11-12 refer to the succession to the throne of Israel while 1. 13 mentions a new siege. The content of the inscription and the fact that it was found at Tel Dan which did not belong to the Aramaean state of Damascus shed some light on its function. Obviously the Aramaean king wanted to justify his military campaign against Israel and the killing of Joram and Ahaziah. It was not an unjustified aggression but a justified reaction to the guile of the Israelite king who attacked Aram despite the treaty he concluded before. Thus this inscription can be deemed as propagandist^.60 Since probably the inscription also refers to the accession of Jehu and afterwards to a new siege, it can be supposed either that the Aramaean king enthroned Jehu and then Jehu turned against him or that the accession of Jehu was deemed by the Aramaean king as a revolution. In both cases a new war against Israel would have been the natural reaction. Thus the text probably told in the now lost parts about this second war which included a siege and conquest of Tel Dan. After the conquest the king erected this stela to justify his right to fight against Israel and to conquer its towns - it was the fault of the Israelite king!61

59. It is indisputable that it was Joram, the king of Israel, who concluded the treaty. 60. Sasson 1995:13. That Hazael just wanted to boast by ascribing the killing to himself (Schniedewind 1996: 85 and Lemaire 1998:11) is not convincing - why then he does mention the treaties? 61. This is in accordance with the date of the inscription which by palaeographic observations can be dated in the time 840-825 BCE (Tropper 1993: 401); for the criticism against this dating proposed by Cryer 1994: 55-6 cf. Tropper 1994: 488-9.

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7.2 The Identity of the Inscription's 'Author' There can be no doubt that Hazael was the author because it was the war with him in which Joram and Ahaziah had been killed.62 Also the fact that after his 'father's' death and before he was made king by Hadad there had been enough time for Joram to invade Aram and that the inscription emphasizes the fact that it was him who Hadad enthroned fits completely the historical situation because Hazael was obviously not the 'normal' successor.63 But this conclusion leads to two further questions: Why then does Hazael call his predecessor 'father'?64 And how is his statement that he killed Joram and Ahaziah to be interpreted in the light of 2 Kgs 9-10 (par.} where this is said of Jehu? 7.3 Hazael's Father and His Death Indisputably Hazael was not a member of the royal family. Not only his father's name is never given in the inscriptions mentioning him but also he is explicitly called 'a son of a nobody' by Shalmaneser III.65 On the other hand, 2 Kgs 8.8-15 shows that Hazael possessed an important position at the inner court of the Aramaean king and maybe - if 2 Kgs. 8.8 is right in this poin - was even one of his intimates. Thus obviously Hazael used the term 'father' in a figurative meaning: His predecessor was his patron who had brought him to his high position and patronized him. This can be compared with th relationship of David with Saul who was also called 'father' by David.66 This leads to the question, how Hazael became king. According to 2 Kgs 8.15 he would have killed his predecessor.67 Though it would not be surprising if Hazael himself would tell nothing about this - otherwise he would have accursed himself as a regicide - also the record about his predecessor's death and 62. The identification of the 'author' with Jehu proposed by Wesselius 1999 is based on restorations which for epigraphical reasons are to be rejected, cf. the discussion above. 63. Cf. also the next section and the parallel formulation of Zkr's enthronement in KAI 202 A 3 who probably had usurped the throne of Hzrk. Thus he keeps silence about his family. 64. This question made Knauf 1996: 10 doubt that the inscription's 'author' could be Hazael. 65. RIMA HI A.0.102.40 i 26. Thus the assumption of Biran and Naveh 1995: 18 (also Yamada 1995: 613; Sasson 1996: 547; and Lipinski 2000: 377) that he perhaps 'belonged to a secondary branch of the royal dynasty in Damascus' seems to be unlikely. Even his name underlines the fact that he was not a member of the royal family because in contrast to the members of the royal dynasty he bears a name with El and not with Hadad (Kottsieper 1997: 46). 66. Cf. 1 Sam. 24.12 and Lemaire 1994: 92; Dietrich 1996: 31; and especially Lemaire 1998: 5-6 for further parallels. 67. Sasson 1996: 548-9, taking up earlier approaches, pleads for the assumption that 2 Kgs 8.15 is not to be interpreted as a report about murder but maybe describes the suicide of the Aramaean king. But a suicide by suffocation through a wet blanket seems to be physically impossible because of the normal reflex action: one barely could hold a blanket tight enough on one's own face until death. But the mentioning of the wet blanket only makes sense if the death was caused by it. Thus we must stick to the old interpretation that the verse speaks about the murdering of the Aramaen king by Hazael.

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his succession given by Shalmaneser III (RIMA III A.0.102.40 i 25-7) provides no evidence for a violent death of Hazael's predecessor. It only states that he went away for ever and that Hazael took over the reign: mdi$KUR-*W-n KUR-s« e-mi-id ""ha-za-tf-DiNGiR DUMU la ma-ma-na GiS.GU.ZA /$ -bat 'Hadadezer died. Hazael, the son of a nobody, took the throne.' Neither the first expression describes a violent death68 nor implicitly the second a usurpation.69 And 2 Kgs 8.15 is by no means a sober factual report which e.g. is shown by the fact that it knows the details of what happened in the king's sleeping room. Thus it is probable that this account is not historically correct and that actually Hazael's predecessor died because of illness as 1. 3 of our inscription suggests. Though Hazael was not the son of his predecessor, nowhere in the preserved sources do we find a hint who else would have been the regular successor. Obviously at the time of the king's death the succession was not clear. Perhaps the king had no son who could reign after him. Thus after the king's death, Aram-Damascus was left for a short time without a king, which explains why Joram had taken the risk of an invasion. But finally Hazael succeeded in taking over the throne and thus the time without a king had come to an end. The fact that he was able to campaign immediately against the aggressor also contradicts the assumption that he usurped the throne. Obviously he was accepted by the army and the leading people of Damascus.70 If my restoration of the end of 1. 5 is correct, Hazael would have pointed explicitly to this fact by mentioning that he had been able to undertake such a campaign after only seven days of his reign. Anyway, the fact that Hadad has given him the victory clearly was a strong argument for him that he was truly the king made by the god of Aram-Damascus.71 Though calling his predecessor his father is correctly taken in the sense of 'patron', still it is mistakable because it could be understood that Hazael was a real son of the king. But surely, this possible wrong interpretation was in Hazael's interest who hardly would have emphasized the fact that he was not a member of the royal dynasty. The question, why he then mentions his predecessor at all, is easy to answer on the basis of the inscription's function. It argues that Joram by his invasion did break a treaty and thus he himself is responsible for his and Israel's fate. But the treaty was concluded with Hazael's predecessor. Thus Hazael had to mention his predecessor and to depict himself as his successor in reign and title, chosen by Hadad.

68. Literally: 'He resorted to his land'; Pitard 1987: 135. 69. Cf. AHw III 1067, s.v. $abatu(m) ffl 12b! 70. One may speculate whether the fact that Aram-Damascus was attacked by Israel did help Hazael to gain the power. Being attacked, Aram-Damascus was under pressure to find a leader who could face the aggressor and maybe Hazael was just the right man at the right place. 71. Also Zkr tells about his victory over his enemies given by the gods to emphasize that he was the righteous king, cf. KAI 202 A and Kottsieper 1999: 58.

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7.4 The Identity ofHazael's Predecessor and the Treaties with the Kings of Israel One of the disputed problems concerning the list of the kings of Damascus is the question of who was the predecessor of Hazael. 2 Kgs 8.7 calls him BenHadad but the above cited inscription of Shalmaneser HI calls him Hadadezer. Since the reading brhdd br czr in KAI 201, 1-2 is palaeographically unlikely72 and the use of an abridged king's name not otherwise attested would be unusual in an official inscription, this text also provides no argument for the existence of a Bar-Hadad who reigned in the time between Hadadezer and Hazael. Thus one must follow the account of the contemporary Assyrian inscription and identify the predecessor of Hazael with Hadadezer. If our restoration of the first two lines is correct, then the inscription mentions two treaties, one of Joram with Hadadezer and the other of Ahab with Hadadezer's father named Bar-Hadad. The Assyrian sources only refer to an alliance between Hadadezer and Ahab in the year 853 (RIMA III A.0.102.2 ii 90-2). But keeping in mind that under the reign of Ahab the economy of Israel has boomed considerable it can be assumed that there have been only few military conflicts between Israel and its neighbours. Also the fact that through a marriage Ahab established good connections with the dynasty of Tyre (1 Kgs 16.31) shows his endeavour to live with his neighbours in good harmony. Thus it would be no surprise if the alliance with Aram-Damascus in the year 853 was based on an earlier treaty concluded by Ahab with BarHadad, the predecessor of Hadadezer. In fact, 1 Kgs 20.34 reports such a treaty. Thus the assumption of recent scholars that 1 Kgs 20 originally deals with Joash and only secondarily was connected with Ahab is put in question. The main argument for this assumption are:73 1.1 Kgs 20.34 mentions towns, which were previously conquered by the Aramaeans, and the establishment of Aramaean marts in Samaria during the reign of Omri. Since the Mesha inscription depicts Omri as a quite powerful king it is deemed improbable that he was subjugated by AramDamascus. On the other hand, 2 Kgs 13.3 states that Jehoahaz, the father of Joash, was given into the hands of the Aramaeans. 2.The victory over the Aramaeans at Apheq (1 Kgs 20.26-30) should be connected with 2 Kgs 13.17. 3.The number of the warriors of Ahab (2,232, 1 Kgs 20.15) seems to contradict the number of 2,000 chariots and 10,000 infantrymen mentioned by Shalmaneser III (RIMA III A.0.102.2 ii 91). These arguments are by no means decisive: 72. Cf. the excellent photography in Pitard 1988: 5. The reading czr was proposed by Cross 1972 and defended by Reinhold 1989: 235-8. But the photography clearly shows that the apparent upper horizontal line does not exist and that the sign possesses a long stem which does not fit a z. 73. Cf. the synopsis at Reinhold 1989: 131-2.

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ad 1) The first observation is just an argument e silentio. We simply do not know enough about Omri's reign to exclude military clashes between AramDamascus and Israel during his time which could have led to a loss of some cities or villages. In any case, Omri was not powerful enough to reconquer the cities which were conquered by Bar-Hadad at the time of Basha (1 Kgs 15.20). Since Samaria had become the capital of Israel only after 12 years of the reign of Omri, it is quite possible that at the beginning of his reign, when he still had to consolidate his power, he was involved in battles with Aram-Damascus. But at the end he easily could have found a more diplomatic relationship with it. And probably it was in the interest of Omri to enhance the prominence of his new capital through an installation of international marts. ad 2) That 2 Kgs 13.17 announces a victory of Joash over Aram-Damascus at Apheq does not exclude that also during earlier campaigns the Aramaeans could have reached this place. Thus in the time of Joram's reign even Ramoth Gilead which is located even further in the South belonged to Aram-Damascus, cf. page 124. ad 3) If 1 Kgs 20 speaks of Ahab - as it was understood by the redactors of the book - then the story told there must be dated at the beginning of the reign of Ahab. Thus there is no contradiction between the smaller size of his army at this time and the much bigger after twenty years of his prosperous reign. The archaeological excavations of Razor and Dan have revealed that these cities prospered under the reign of Ahab (Pitard 1987: 109). Thus they must have came back under Israelian supremacy at last at the beginning of Ahab's reign - which is told in 1 Kgs 20.34.74 Besides 1. 2 of our inscription, there is no other direct evidence for an alliance between Joram and Hadadezer. But the inscriptions of Shalmaneser III suggest that the alliance between Hadadezer and Israel at least endured until the year 848 and probably ended not before the reign of Hazael.75 Thus it is 74. Schmitt 1972: 60 deems it improbable that Ahab, who in the battle of Qarqar had fought together with Hadadezer against Shalmaneser ffi, would have been an enemy of his ally only a few years before. But also in the ancient Near East the political situation often changed. And if the conflict with Aram is to be dated in the first years of Ahab's reign more then ten years before the battle of Qarqar and if this conflict ended with a treaty, then there is no problem with the fact that Ahab and Hadadezer could have fought in a coalition against the Assyrian king. But according to 1 Kgs 8.20 Joram attacked Hazael at Ramoth Gilead. Thus obviously not all conquered regions were given back to Israel (cf. page 124). But this is no argument against our historical reconstruction because the region of Ramoth Gilead is not mentioned under the areas conquered by Bar-Hadad I in 1 Kgs 15. Thus probably it had come under Aramaean supremacy at an earlier time and was not affected by the treaty concluded between Ahab and Hadadezer. 75. Schmitt 1972: 53-4; Timm 1982: 194; Mayer 1995: 285-6. That originally in 1 Kg 22 'king of Israel' was not Ahab is widely accepted. The fact that the Assyrian sources point to an alliance with Aram, which did endure up to the end of Ahab's life, and 1 Kgs 22.40 to a non-violent death of Ahab, makes is most improbable that Ahab was mortally wounded in a battle with the king of Aram.

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to be assumed that Hadadezer renewed the old alliance made with Ahab after Joram had become king.76 Also the story of Naaman (2 Kgs 5) shows a comparatively peaceful relation between Aram and Israel (Reinhold 1989: 164) and implies the existence of a peace treaty (Schmitt 1972: 108). Thus it is not necessary to date this story in the time of Jehoahaz contrary to the place the redactors put it. Obviously the political situation this story implies also prevailed in the time of Joram. And also 2 Kgs 8.7-15 implies a political situation in which Elisha could move freely in Damascus. Possibly also 2 Kgs 3.4-27 can be taken as a hint at the fact that there was peace between Aram-Damascus and Israel. The Moabite king took the chance of Israel's weakness after Ahab's death and during the short interregnum of Ahaziah to free himself from the supremacy of Israel. Thus Joram campaigned against him. Though the story shows some unhistorical details there is no reason to deny totally the historicity of this campaign. But such a campaign would only have been possible if Joram did not expect hostile activities from his northern neighbour.77 But 2 Kgs 6-7 refers to a war between the king of Aram and Israel though Joram is not named in this text which always speaks about the 'king of Israel'. Thus there is the question which king of Israel was the adversary of the king of Aram. It can not be overlooked that 2 Kgs 6.24-7.17 originally was a story itself independent of 6.8-23 because Aram's attack against Samaria (6.24) clearly contradicts 6.23. Keeping in mind that 1 Kgs 20 tells about Ahab and that this king defended himself victoriously against Bar-Hadad at the beginning of his reign, there is no hindrance to assuming that the war stories of 2 Kgs 6-7 also refer to this time.78 This is corroborated by the observation that 2 Kgs 6.8-23* ends with the release of the captured Aramaeans, remininscent of 76. At least after the short interregnum of Aha/iah such a renewal would have been natural. 77. The main arguments against the dating of these events under Joram's reign were formulated by Bernhardt 1971 (also Timm 1982: 175-80). The coalition with Edom would be anachronistic and instead of a southern route a route through the northern regions east of Jordan would be expected. Also the Assyrian threat would have hindered Joram from undertaking a campaign against Moab. But following 2 Kgs 3 this campaign has been made around the year 852/1 and for this time there is no evidence of an Assyrian campaign to the west. And keeping in mind that there was a coalition between Israel and Aram, the northern borders would have been secured by the Aramaeans. Also one may consider if the mentioning of Edom is based on a later (deliberate?) misreading of'rm. This would solve all the problems: Joram called the Aramaeans for help with whom he was allied. And on the way to them they consult Elisha. If Edom would be the original reading then Elisha would have been in the South-Judaean area. Why he was suddenly there, the text does not tell. If originally the story had Aram instead of Edom this problem would also have been solved, since Elisha lived and acted in Israel. If this assumption is correct then v. 8 does not belong to the original version of the story. And v. 20 would have told about a flood coming from the Aramaean areas in the upper Jordan valley and not from Edom. Since obviously Joram's connections with Aram were darkened in the later tradition, the (mis-)reading of Aram as Edom would not be very surprising. But of course, this is just a conjecture. 78. For the connection between 1 Kgs 20 and 2 Kgs 6-7 cf. also e.g. Wiirthwein 1984: 239.

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1 Kgs 20.30-4. Obviously Ahab's war with the Aramaeans, which ended with his victory and a treaty between Aram and Israel, was told in several stories. 1 Kgs 20 is based on a version in which the kings' names were preserved Thus the later collectors and redactors had no problem in connecting the story correctly with Ahab. The more popular versions of 2 Kgs 6-7 did not mention the king by name. Thus their assignment to a specific king was not obvious. Since secondarily they have been connected with Elisha79 - or, maybe better, their motives were used to tell stories about Elisha - it is not surprising that the king of Israel in these stories had been wrongly identified with Joram. 7.5 The Battle with Joram in Qdm To answer the question how the different approaches of the biblical texts, which take Jehu as the murderer of the two kings, and of our inscription, which ascribes the killing to Hazael, are to be explained, it is important to discuss the background of the battle in Qdm. This battle is also mentioned in 2 Kgs 8.28, 9.14, and 2 Chron. 22.5. According to these texts it happened near Ramoth Gilead which belonged to Aram-Damascus at this time.80 Our inscription does not tell the exact location of the battle but emphasizes that Joram invaded the open country east of Northern Jordan, which commonly was called Qdm, and that the part of Qdm he invaded belonged to the land of Hazael's predecessor with whom Joram had concluded a treaty (cf. page 113-4). Obviously Hazael was not interested in giving all details of the war because the main function of the inscription is to justify the killing of the two kings and the later conquest of Israelite cities like Dan. Thus it was important to him only to emphasize the fact that the region Joram invaded did belong to his father's territory - especially since the Israelites deemed this region as their own (1 Kgs 22.3). Since Hazael reports about 2,000 chariots and - if the common restoration in 1. 6 is right - 'seventy kings', obviously Joram invaded with the whole army of Israel. Also Shalmaneser III mentions 2,000 chariots of Ahab in his report about the battle of Qarqar which happened some years before (RIMA HI A.0.102.2 ii 91). Probably the 'kings' are to be interpreted as commanders.81 Possibly the 'kings' or sanm as they are called in 1 Kgs 22.31 were members of the aristocratic upper class from the cities of Israel. Maybe their designation as 'kings' should only increase Hazael's glory. But it is not impossible that it points to a mainly independent lordship of the city-leaders under the supremacy of the king of Israel. Even though the inscription tells about the killing of Ahaziah it does not mention him as a participant of the battle. But also 2 Kgs 9.14 says nothing about Ahaziah having been in Ramoth Gilead. And 2 Kgs 8.29b reports 79. Schmitt 1972: 37-41, 91-3, 155-6. 80. The formulation of 2 Kgs 8.28 and 2 Chron. 22.5 shows that at the time of the battle the Aramaeans were at Ramoth Gilead. 81. On the other hand, 1 Kgs 20.1, 16 mentions 32 'kings' of Bar-Hadad's army. The fact that in such war reports the number of the enemies is often told (cf. e.g. also 1 Kgs 22.31 where 32 commanders of the Israelite army are mentioned) and that our inscription also gives the number of chariots and horses, suggests the restoration of a number in 1. 6 as probable.

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that he 'went down (yrd) to Jezreel to see Joram' who was 'ill' which is best interpreted as coming from Judah.82 Thus it is probable that he did not take part in the battle. Thus probably those scholars are right who take the 3t in 8.28 as a secondary supplementation under the influence of 2 Chron. 22.5.83 Then 8.29a must be an editorial insertion which connects the story about Ahaziah with 2 Kgs 9-10. This is corroborated by the observations that on one hand 8.29a cites 9.15a but on the other hand it uses Ramah instead of Ramoth Gilead and, like 8.29b, the writing ywrm instead of ybwrm as it is found in 9.15a. If this assumption is correct then 2 Kgs 8.28* in its original form did tell correctly that only Joram attacked Hazael at Ramoth Gilead but was beaten by the Aramaeans.84 This notice was followed directly by v. 29b which tells about Ahaziah's visit to the ill Joram in Jezreel which led over to the report about the death of both kings. This report was then replaced by the longer story of chapters 9-10. Thus as the historical prelude of Jehu's revolt Joram together with the whole army of Israel had attacked Aram and was beaten by Hazael utterly at Ramoth Gilead. Then he went to Jezreel where Ahaziah joined him. 7.6 The 'Murderer' of Joram and Ahaziah According to 2 Kgs 9.15-29 and 2 Chron. 22.7-9 Jehu killed the two kings. In contrast, our inscription not only alleges that Hazael did it but also justifies this with a reference to Joram's breach of contract.85 Thus if Hazael deemed it necessary to justify this killing in a propagandistic inscription at Dan, it would be most improbable that he had not done it. Obviously he was deeply involved in this murder and the inscription's addressee knew that.86 If our interpretation is correct that the killing of the two kings is a prelude to the conflict between Hazael and Jehu, then we find here a further corroboration. Had in fact Jehu alone been responsible for the death of the two kings or had the addressees held him responsible for this deed, one would expect that Hazael would have blamed him and depicted him as an illegal usurper. Thus the conclusion is inevitable that not only Hazael held himself responsible for the killing but also the addressee of the inscription. Evidently, the statement of our inscription is more reliable than the biblical accounts. But why then do the biblical sources ascribe the murder to Jehu, the more so since the killing of Ahaziah could not be justified in any way. The easiest solution is that Jehu was an ally of Hazael and had acted by his order or in

82. In contrast 2 Kgs 9.16 uses hlk for Jehu's way from Ramoth Gilead to Jezreel. 83. Cf. e.g. Wurthwein 1984: 328. 84. Thus nkh H was used with the meaning 'to inflict a defeat' (cf. e.g. 2 Sam. 8.3) in the original story. 85. Thus he is not boasting as Schniedewind 1996: 85 and Lemaire 1998: 11 assume, cf. note 60. 86. Against Margalit 1994b: 318. The assumption that qtl in 11.7-8 has to be taken in the sense 'to beat' (Yamada 1995: 619) is not convincing.

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his interest.87 Thus Hazael's statement that he himself killed the two kings is to be understood like the former statements. He killed them like he killed the seventy kings and like he led away the booty - through his servants and subordinates. This is also corroborated by the fact that the inscription uses a perfect form at the beginning of the second statement that Hazael killed Ahaziah. From Hazael's point of view the killings of the two kings were not two actions carried out by him one after the other but two parts of one event which was initiated by him. Since the short imperfect is used for telling events following one after the other it would not have been appropriate at this point. Thus Hazael as the 'author' of the inscription had to choose a perfect form (cf. page 117). 2 Kgs 9 offers another clue to the assumption that Jehu was an ally of Hazael. The reader wonders at the fact that after Hazael has beaten Joram at Ramoth Gilead Jehu remained there. Since no hint of an ongoing or following battle is found, the question arises as to why Jehu did stay in the region which was defended by the Aramaeans against the Israelites. But if Hazael has been involved in Jehu's revolution, as the inscription suggests, then obviously Jehu had deserted to Hazael and his staying at Ramoth Gilead would be no problem. Thus it can be assumed that there was an alliance between Jehu and Hazael which enabled Jehu to revolt against Joram. Obviously, Hazael took Jehu's willingness to rebel as an opportunity to gain control over Israel through him. Surely, Hazael played the stronger part in such an alliance because he had just beaten the Israelite army. Thus his statement that he killed Joram and Ahaziah is not an invention. From his point of view Jehu was ordered or empowered by him to do so - and thus Jehu was also under an obligation to him. This also fits well the function of the inscription which obviously wants to justify the later conquest of Dan and Hazael's war against Jehu. Emphasizing that he killed both kings, Hazael makes it clear that Jehu could not base his claim of power on his revolt. Thus it can be assumed that 11. 11-12 dealt wit the enthronement of Jehu. Naturally it cannot be decided whether Hazael had claimed that he had made him a (vassal) king or if he had accused him of making himself king and so usurping power. But the mention of a new military conflict in 1. 13 can be taken as a hint that after or because of the events told in 11. 11-12 their alliance was broken up, which Hazael did blame on Jehu. Thus he made him responsible for the new campaign against Israel which is also told in 2 Kgs 10.32-33.88 In the light of these results the statement about a plot of Jehu against Joram in 2 Kgs 9.14 (cf. also 10.9) seems to be historically plausible. But w. 1-13 report that Jehu was anointed king by a young prophet sent by Elisha and then confirmed by the army. This can hardly be called a plot like the one 9.14 87. This was also considered by Biran and Naveh 1995: 18. 88. Thus the 'Aramaic aggression against Israel ... during the reign of Jehu' does not 'make an earlier coalition between Jehu and Hazael less probable' as Becking 1999: 195 has argued against the assumption of an alliance between these two.

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speaks of.89 Thus 1 Kgs 9.1-13 should be seen as an addition to the report of the revolution. This is corroborated by the fact that in 10.9 Jehu explains the murder just with his plot and does not try to justify it with the fact that he was rightful king through an anointing and acclamation. Since this article is not the right place for a detailed discussion of the evolution of 2 Kgs 9-10, only one further observation should be mentioned. The details of the historical background reported in 9.14-15-13 verses after the beginning of the story - are given too late.90 Thus it seems better to assume that the narration used an older report about Jehu's revolt which began with the statement of w. 14-15: And Jehu ... plotted against Joram at the time when Joram together with all Israel had been on guard at Ramoth Gilead because of Hazael, the king of Aram. But Joram had returned to recover in Jezreel from the wound which the Aramaeans had inflicted on him during his fight against Hazael, the king of Aram.

This report meets the fact that Joram did appear in Ramoth Gilead together with the whole army. But the statement that 'he had been on guard because91 of Hazael' is conspicuous. By this the narration avoids describing Joram as an aggressor and his action appears in a positive light. This corresponds to the negative description of Jehu as a conspirator. Thus the narration used in 2 Kgs 9-10 regards Jehu's revolution critically. The narrator who has introduced w. 1-13 took over this critical view but set against it the justification that Jehu has acted as an anointed king by order of God. This may be seen as a witness to a controversy during the time of the dynasty of Jehu in which the opposer denied the legitimacy of this dynasty - it had been founded by a conspirator - while the apologists who could not deny the fact of the plot countered with Jehu's appointment by God. That the narrator has cited the view of the opposer and did not contradict it but has just contrasted it with the additional information about Jehu's appointment shows the propagandistic skill of the apologists. Surely they could not deny the well-known reproach that Jehu has plotted against Joram but by avoiding the question about with whom Jehu had conspired92 and telling about his appointment before he had done so Jehu's plot appears in a better light (Otto 2001: 107-8). It is questionable whether we can restore the narration of Jehu's critics as a literary source. Maybe just an oral story was used and its main elements - like Jehu's plot against Joram, when he had been at Ramoth Gilead for the sake of 89. It is conspicuous that it is not reported with whom Jehu colluded. In the present context it would be the army but 11-13 only tells that it accepted Jehu as the anointed king, and in the following events Jehu acts only with a small group of men and the army disappears from the scene. 90. Not convincing is the assumption e.g. by Wurthwein 1984: 325, 330 that w. 14b15a is a post-deuteronomistic addition. After 8.28-29 this addition would add nothing new and thus it would hardly be understandable why it would have been added. 91. mpny cannot be interpreted as 'against'; this would be expressed in Hebrew by a simple tnn. 92. Maybe, this was told in the original narration used in 2 Kgs 9-10.

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Israel and returned to Jezreel after being wounded - were intentionally kept to 'neutralize' them by the reference to Jehu's appointment.93 But even if 2 Kgs 9.1-13 is a later element of the narration of 2 Kgs 9-10 the question remains whether the statement of Jehu's anointing through a prophet ordered by Elisha is historically based. This question is connected with the other question, how the alliance between Jehu and Hazael has been established. Taking 2 Kgs 8.7-15 not simply as an unhistorical story then obviously there existed some contacts between Elisha (or the prophetic oppositional circles represented by him) and Damascus and especially with Hazael. Thus it would be plausible if the connection between Jehu and Hazael was facilitated or at least supported by these circles. Since our sources are only scanty, it is not possible to decide whether it was Hazael who used his connections with the Israelite oppositional groups to initiate the revolt or whether these groups saw the time as ripe to enthrone their candidate after Hazael's enthronement and victory over Joram. But probably both aspects are taken into account and Jehu's revolt had met the interests of both sides. Maybe also 1 Kgs 19.17 is a reminiscence of the connection between Hazael, Jehu, and the oppositional circles to which Elisha belonged: hnmlt mhrb hz'l ymyt yhw whnmlt mhrb yhw ymyt 'ly?

13

Who escapes Hazael's sword

7

will be killed by Jehu.

13

And who escapes Jehu

9

will be killed by Elisha.

The verse shows the qinah measure and obviously is a poetic quotation in its relatively young context. Since 2 Kgs 9-10 does not report about killings, either by Hazael or by Elisha, this verse cannot been derived from this story. Thus it probably comes from another source. In any case, there is no reason to doubt that 2 Kgs 9.1-13, which states an anointing of Jehu by a member of the Elisha circles at Ramoth Gilead, has its historical base in the fact that Jehu was not just a marionette of Hazael but encouraged and religiously legitimized by oppositional circles in Israel. This also explains why the alliance between Hazael and Jehu did not endure for long. Jehu understood himself as the legitimate and anointed king of Israel who was not under Hazael's supremacy. But for Hazael he was just a subordinate who revolted by his order. Thus he started a new military campaign against Israel shortly after the revolt (cf. 2 Kgs 10.32-33) which he justified in the inscription from Tel Dan. 93. Otto 2001:1-74 discusses the older approaches and presents good arguments that 2 Kgs 9-10* is a literary unit. Following Otto (100-11) the narration is to be dated to the time of Jeroboam II.

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8. Summary The analysis of the Tel Dan inscription and of the biblical sources together with the data given in the Assyrian texts sheds new light on the relationship between Israel and Aram. If my interpretations are right the following chain of events can be established: At the beginning of Omri's reign there were some military conflicts between Aram and Israel. But later, after Omri had made Samaria his capital, a treaty was concluded between him and Bar-Hadad which allowed the establishing of Aramaean marts in Samaria, cf. 1 Kgs 20.34. At the beginning of Ahab's reign Aram attacked Israel. This conflict ended by a defeat of the Aramaeans and led to a treaty between Ahab and BarHadad, cf. 1. 1 and 1 Kgs 20*, 2 Kgs 6-7*. This treaty persisted during the time of Hadadezer, the successor of BarHadad, and was renewed with Joram after he had become king of Israel, cf. 1. 2 and the considerations about 2 Kgs 3, 5, and 8.7-15. But after Hadadezer's death, which first left open the question about the rightful successor, Joram invaded the south-eastern region of the Aramaean territory, cf. 11. 3-4, 2 Kgs 8.28*, and 9.14. At last, Hazael, who probably did not kill Hadadezer and was not a usurper, became king in Damascus and was able to repulse the attack, cf. 11. 4-7 and 2 Kgs 8.28 (9.15). Meanwhile, Jehu had changed sides to Hazael, probably encouraged and supported by religious oppositional groups in Israel (cf. 2 Kgs 9.1-13*) which had previously been in contact with Hazael in Damascus (cf. 2 Kgs 8.7-15). By order of Hazael, Jehu killed Joram and Ahaziah (cf. 11. 7-9 and 2 Kgs 9.15-29. and became king of Israel, cf. 11. 11-12 (?). After that the alliance between Hazael and Jehu broke up, and Hazael started a new campaign against Israel which led to the conquest of Dan, cf. 1. 13 (?) and 2 Kgs 10.32-33. This was the occasion for setting up the stela with the inscription which justifies Hazael's hostile actions against Israel.94 It was this policy of Hazael, which on the one hand was based on military power and on the other was concerned about justifying and explaining his deeds even to the conquered people, which made this king one of the most successful rulers of Aram-Damascus.

9. Epilogue It is not surprising that a new historical inscription sheds new light on some questions about the history of Israel, the more so as the historians only possess scanty sources. It is moreover regrettable that this inscription is preserved only in fragments. Thus we can only hope that some other findings will supply 94. Cf. also Tropper 1993: 397-8.

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us with more information. Until then, every interpretation of the scanty sources is with the provision that it may be only valid for the present. But this does not permit the philologist or historian to avoid the painful work of the interpretation of such poor sources with a comfortable nescio. Older exegetical opinions are to be tested critically on the basis of new sources, even though one has become fond of them. But the notes on some biblical texts presented in this article should only be understood as hints and stimulation for more detailed analyses.95 However, my observations - e.g. that 1 Kgs 20 rightly speaks of Ahab or that the data of the inscription are mainly in accord with the biblical account - advocate the assumption that the value of the biblical sources is higher than assumed by some other exegetes. But it also has again become obvious that the biblical stories are by no means primary sources. They need to be analysed critically with the help of the evidence provided by other sources. Only then can the history of Israel be reconstructed and its interpretation in the biblical texts be understood.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Ahituv, Shmuel 1993 'Suzerain or Vassal? Notes on the Aramaic Inscription from Tel Dan', Israel Exploration Journal 43: 246-7. Anonymous 1994 'David Found at Dan', Biblical Archaeology Review 20/2: 26-39. Athas, George 2003 The Tel Dan Inscription: A Reappraisal and a New Interpretation (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament / Supplement Series, 360; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press). Barstad, Hans M., and Bob Becking 1995 'Does the Stele from Tel Dan Refer to a Deity Dod?', Biblische Notizen 77: 5-12. Becking, Bob 1996 'The Second Danite Inscription. Some Remarks', Biblische Notizen 81: 21-30. 1999 'Did Jehu Write the Tel Dan Inscription?', Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 13: 187-201. 2003 'Does the Stele from Tel Dan refer to a Deity Bethel?', Biblische Notizen 118: 19-23. Ben Zvi, Ehud 1996 'On the Reading "bytdwd" in the Aramaic Stele from Tel Dan', Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 64: 25-32. Bernhardt, Karl Heinz 1971 'Der Feldzug der drei Konige', in Karl Heinz Bernhardt (ed.), Schalom. Studien zu Glaube und Geschichte Israels. Festschrift A. Jepsen (Arbeiten zur Theologie, 1/46; Stuttgart: Calwer Verlag), 11-22.

95. The dissertation of Susanne Otto is a first attempt at a new exegetical analysis which takes into account our interpretation, cf. especially Otto 2001: 97-104.

KOTTSEEPER The Tel Dan Inscription Beyer, Klaus 1984

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Die aramaischen Texte vom Toten Meer (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht).

Biran, Avraham 1994 Biblical Dan (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society). Biran, Avraham, and Naveh, Joseph 1993 'An Aramaic Stele Fragment from Tel Dan', Israel Exploration Journal 43: 81-98. 1995 'The Tel Dan Inscription: A New Fragment', Israel Exploration Journal 45: 1-18. Brockelmann, Carl 1908, 1913 Grundrifi der vergleichenden Grammatik der semtiischen Sprachen (2 vols; Berlin: Reuther & Reichard). Couturier, Guy 2001 'Quelques observations sur le bytdtvd de la stele arameenne de Tel Dan', in Daviau, Michele P. M., John W. Wevers, and Michael Weigl (eds.), The World of the Aramaeans II. Studies in History and Archaeology in Honour of Paul-Eugene Dion (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament / Supplement Series, 325; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press), 72-98. Cross, Frank Moore 1972 'The Stele Dedicates to Melcarth by Ben Hadad of Damascus', Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 205: 36-42. Cryer, Frederick H. 1994 'On the Recently Discovered House of David Inscription', Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 8: 3-19. 1995 'King Hadad', Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 9: 223-35. 1996 'Of Epistemology, Northwest Semitic Epigraphy and Irony: The "bytdivdl House of David" Inscription Revisited', Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 69: 3-17. Davies, Philip R. 1994 '"House of" David Built on Sand. The Sins of the Biblical Maximizers', Biblical Archaeology Review 20/4: 54—5. Degen, Rainer 1969 AltaramaischeGrammatikderlnschriftendeslO.-S.Jh.v. Chr. (Abhandlungen fur die Kunde des Morgenlandes, 38,3; Wiesbaden: Steiner). Dietrich, Walter 1997 'dawld, dod und bytdwd', Theologische Zeitschrift 53: 17-32. Dijkstra, Meindert 1994 'An Epigraphic and Historical Note on the Stela of Tel Dan', Biblische Notizen 74: 10-14. Freedman, David Noel, and Jeffrey C. Geoghegan 1995 'House of David Is There!', Biblical Archaeology Review 21/2: 78-9. Galil, Gershon 2001 'A Re-Arrangement of the Fragments of the Tel Dan Inscription and the Relations between Israel and Aram', Palestine Exploration Quarterly 133: 16-21. Gmirkin, Russel 2002 'Tool Slippage and the Tel Dan Inscription', Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 16: 293-302. Halpern, Baruch 1994 'The Stela from Dan: Epigraphic and Historical Considerations', Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 296: 63-80.

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Hoftijzer, Jean, and Karel Jongeling 1995 Dictionary of the North-West Semitic Inscriptions (2 vols.; Handbuch der Orientalistik, 1/21,1-2; Leiden, New York, and Cologne: E. J. Brill). Kaswalder, Pietro, and Massimo Pazzini 1994 'La stele aramaica di Tel Dan1, Rivista Biblica 42: 193-201. Kaufman, Stephen A. 1974 The Akkadian Influences on Aramaic (Assyriological Studies, 19; Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press). Knauf, Ernst Axel 1996 'Das Haus Davids in der alt aramaischen Inschrift vom Tell Dan', Bibel und Kirche 51: 9-10. Knauf, Ernst Axel, Albert de Pury, and Thomas Romer 1994 '*BaytDawId ou *BaytD6d? Une relecture de la nouvelle inscription de Tel Dan', Biblische Notizen 72: 60-9. Kottsieper, Ingo 1990 DieSprachederAhiqarspruche(^ihehezur7^eitschrihfuTdiea\ttestament\iche Wissenschaft, 194; Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter). 1997 'El - ferner oder naher Gott? Zur Bedeutung einer semitischen Gottheit in verschiedenen sozialen Kontexten im 1. Jtsd.v.Chr.', in Rainer Albertz (ed.), Religion und Gesellschaft. Studien zu ihren Wechselbeziehungen in den Kulturen des antiken Vorderen Orients (Veroffentlichungen des AZERKAVO I = Alter Orient und Altes Testament, 248; Munster: Ugarit-Verlag), 25-74. 1998 'Die Inschrift vom Tell Dan und die politischen Beziehungen zwischen AramDamaskus und Israel in der 1. Halfte des 1. Jahrtausends vor Chistus', in Manfried Dietrich and Ingo Kottsieper (eds.), 'Und Moses schrieb dieses Lied auf. Studien zum Alten Testament und zum Alien Orient. Festschrift O. Loretz (Alter Orient und Altes Testament, 250; Munster: Ugarit-Verlag), 475-500. 1999 '... mein Vater zog hinauf — Aspekte des alteren aramaischen Verbalsystems und seiner Entwicklung', in Norbert Nebes and Johannes Oelsner (eds.), Tempus und Aspekt in den semitischen Sprachen (Jenaer Beitrage zur Orientalistik, 1; Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag), 55-76. 2007 'Anmerkungen zur aramaischen Bukan-Inschrift', Ugarit-Forschungen 39 (under press). Lehmann, Reinhard G., and Marcus Reichel 1995 'DOD und ASIMA in Tell Dan', Biblische Notizen 77: 29-31. Lemaire, Andre 1994 'Epigraphie palestinienne: nouveaux documents. I. Fragment de stele arameenne de Tell Dan (DCe s. av. J. C.)', Henoch 16: 87-93. 1998 'The Tel Dan Stela as a Piece of Royal Historiography', Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 81: 3-14. Lemche, Niels Peter, and Thomas L. Thompson 1994 'Did Biran Kill David? The Bible in the Light of Archaeology', Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 64: 3-22. Lipinski, Eduard 1994 Studies in Aramaic Inscriptions and Onomastics II (Orientalia Lovanensia Analecta, 57; Leuven, Paris, and Sterling, Va.: Uitgeverij Peeters). 2000 The Aramaeans. Their History, Culture, Religion (Orientalia Lovanensia Analecta, 100; Leuven, Paris, and Sterling, Va.: Uitgeverij Peeters). Maag, Victor 1982 Hiob. Wandlung und Verarbeitung des Problems in Novelle, Dialogdichtung und Spatfassungen (Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments, 128; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck 8c Ruprecht).

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Margalit, Baruch 1994a 'The OAram. Stele from t. Dan', NABU 1994/1: 20-1. 1994b 'The Old Aramaic Inscription of Hazael from Dan', Ugarit-Forschungen 26: 317-20. Mayer, Walter 1995 Politik und Kriegskunst der Assyrer (Arbeiten zur Literatur Alt-SyrienPalastinas, 9; Miinster: Ugarit-Verlag). Miiller, Hans Peter 1978 'Einige alttestamentliche Probleme zur aramaischen Inschrift von Der £Alla', Zeitschrift des deutscben Paldstina-Vereins 94: 56-67. 1995 'Die aramaische Inschrift von Tel Dan', Zeitschrift fur Althebraistik 8:121-39. Muraoka, Takamitsu 1995 'Linguistic Notes on the Aramaic Inscription from Tel Dan', Israel Exploration Journal 45: 19-21. Nacaman, Nadav 1995 'Beth David in the Aramaic Stela from Tel Dan', Biblische Notizen 79: 17-24. 2000 'Three Notes on the Aramaic Inscription from Tel Dan', Israel Exploration Journal 50: 92-104. Norin, Stig I. L. 1986 Sein Name allein ist hoch (Coniectanea biblica, Old Testament Series, 24; Malmo: CWK Gleerup) Otto, Susanne 2001 Jehu, Elia und Elisa. Die Erzahlung von der Jehu-Revolution und die Komposition der Elia-Elisa-Erzahlungen (Beitrage zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und Neuen Testament, 152; Stuttgart: Verlag W. Kohlhammer). Payne Smith, R. 1879, 1901 Thesaurus Syriacus (2 vols; Oxford: Clarendon Press). Pitard, Wayne T. 1987 Ancient Damaskus: A Historical Study of the Syrian City-State from Earliest Times until its Fall to the Assyrians in 732 B.C.E. (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns). 1988 'The Identity of the Bir-Hadad of the Melqart Stela', Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 272: 1-21. Puech, fimile 1994 'La stele arameenne de Dan: Bar Hadad n et la coalition des Omrides et de la Maison de David', Revue biblique 101: 215—41. Rainey, Anson 1994 'The House of David and the House of the Deconstructionists', Biblical Archaeology Review 20/6: 47. Reinhold, Gotthard G. G. 1989 Die Beziehungen Altisraels zu den aramaischen Staaten in der israelitisch judaischen Konigszeit (Europaische Hochschulschriften. Reihe 23, Theologie, 368; Frankfurt a. Main: Lang Verlag). Rollig, Wolfgang 2003 'Siegel und Gewichte', in Johannes, Renz, and Wolfgang Rollig, Handbuch der althebraischen Epigraphik 11/2 (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft), 79-439. Sasson, Victor 1995 'The Old Aramaic Inscription from Tell Dan: Philological, Literary, and Historical Aspects', Journal of Semitic Studies 40: 1-30. 1996 'Murderers, Usurpers, or What? Hazael, Jehu, and the Tell Dan Old Aramaic Inscription', Ugarit-Forschungen 28: 547-54.

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Schmitt, Hans Christoph 1972 Elisa. Traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zur vorklassischen nordisraelitischen Prophetic (Giitersloh: Mohn). Schniedewind, William M. 1996 'Tel Dan Stela: New Light on Aramaic and Jehu's Revolt', Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 302: 75-90. Sokoloff, Michael 2002 A Dictionary of Jewish Babylonian Aramaic (Ramat Gan, Baltimore, and London: Bar Ilan University Press and Johns Hopkins University Press). Thompson, Thomas L. 1995a 'House of David: An Eponymic Referent to Yahwe as Godfather', Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 9: 59-74. 1995b 'Dissonance and Disconnections: Notes of the bytdwd and hmlk.hdd Fragments from Tel Dan', Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 9: 236-40. Timm, Stefan 1982 Die Dynastic Omri. Quellen und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte Israels im 9. Jahrhundert vor Christus (Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments, 124; Gottingen: Vandehoeck & Ruprecht). Tropper, Josef 1993 'Eine altaramaische Steleninschrift aus Dan', Ugarit-Forschungen 25: 395406. 1994 'Paleographische und linguistische Anmerkungen zur Steleninschrift aus Dan', Ugarit-Forschungen 26: 487-92. 1996 'Aramaisches wyqtl und hebraisches wayyiqtoP, Ugarit-Forschungen 28: 633-45. Wesselius, Jan-Wim 1999 'The First Royal Inscription From Ancient Israel: The Tel Dan Inscription Reconsidered', Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 13: 163-86. 2001 'The Road to Jezreel: Primary History and the Tel Dan Inscription', Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 15: 83-103. Wiirthwein, Ernst 1984 Die Biicher der Konige. 1 Kon. 17-2. Kon. 25 (Altes Testament Deutsch, 11,2; Gottingen: Vandehoeck & Ruprecht). Yamada, Shigeo 1995 'Aram Israel Relations as Reflected in the Aramaic Inscription from Tel Dan', Ugarit-Forschungen 27: 611-25.

THE MESHA STELE AND THE OMRI DYNASTY Andre Lemaire

1. Introduction Discovered in Dhiban, some 13 miles east of the Dead Sea, in 1868, the Mesha stele is not only one of the most important ancient west Semitic inscriptions exhibited in the Louvre Museum in Paris, it is also probably the most famous text for the confrontation between the Bible and contemporary Near Eastern inscriptions. Actually, one reads there not only the name of the country 'Moab', the name of its king 'Mesha' and of its god 'Kamosh', as well as many place-names: 'Madaba', 'Atarot', 'Baalmeon', 'Qiriatain', 'Neboh', 'Yahaz', 'Dibon', 'Aroer', 'Bezer', 'Diblatain', 'Horonain', already mentioned in the Bible, but also the name of 'Israel', the name of its king 'Omri', and of its God 'Yhwh', as well as the name of the traditional Israelite tribe of 'Gad'. This simple list reveals that a confrontation between the Mesha stele and the biblical tradition is unavoidable (Lemaire 1991a), especially when studying the history of the Omride dynasty. However, before such a confrontation, it is necessary, first, to try to understand the inscription for itself with its meaning and its problems. 2. Literary Genre and Date of the Mesha Stele Although not found during a controlled excavation, the origin of the Mesha stele, in Dhiban, is well attested by the detailed history of its discovery, even though it is difficult to be very precise about its exact original place on the tell itself (Graham 1989: 85-6). Actually we do not know its precise archaeological and stratigraphical context even though its original setting in the sanctuary (bamat) of Kamosh looks a reasonable guess from the content of the inscription (Clermont-Ganneau 1870: 42; Miller 1974: 18). a) Without entering here into a detailed palaeographical analysis, one can see that the shapes of the letters fit a dating in the second half of the ninth century BC. However, one must underline that this palaeographical dating i still quite approximate since we do not know other dated Moabite inscriptions of this period. Thus we cannot completely exclude a date in the first half of the ninth or the eighth century BC.

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b) The dating of this inscription from its content could be more precise and was used from its discovery. Most of the commentators proposed to date it: either circa 850 BC (Van Zyl 1960: 144; KAIII: 168; TUAT 1,6: 646 or circa 840 BC (Dussaud 1912: 5; Garbini 1984: 72 or else, more rarely, between 840 and 820 BC (Wallis 1965; ANET: 320 Smeli k 2000: 137) Actually, for this period, we have no direct information to fix the chronology of the Moabite history outside of its connection with the history of ancient Israel during a period when the biblical chronology can be confronted by the Assyrian chronology with the mention of the Israelite kings Ahab, Jehu and Joash in Neo-Assyrian texts. Many commentators have interpreted the wars of Mesha mentioned in the stele as the Israelite-Moabite war recounted in 2 Kings 3.4-8. This position has still been taken for granted lately by T. L. Thompson (2000: 326), P. Bordreuil (2001: 162) and N. Na'aman (2001). However, this identification is far from certain and has been much discussed. Actually some have dated the military campaigns of the Mesha stele before that of 2 Kings 3.4-27 (Liver 1967), others afterwards (Dussaud 1912: 10-13; Van Zyl 1960: 140-4; Horn 1986: 61; Dearman 1989: 208) while still others have underlined that the connection was not obvious (Cooke 1903: 5; Rendsburg 1981: 67-73; Timm 1982: 170; Kallai 1986: 89-90). It is much safer to discuss the dating of the Moabite inscription after fixing its literary genre. The text of this inscription is obviously not a fictive story or pure literature as claimed lately by T. L. Thompson (2000: 321-2) and rightly criticized by J. A. Emerton (2002: 483-92). When it is compared to other ancient Near Eastern royal inscriptions, it can be classified as commemorative/ memorial royal inscription as clearly shown by J. D. Davis (1891), J. M. Miller (1974: 9-18) and J. Drinkard (1989: 131-54) with two important outcomes: 'The inscription apparently comes from late in his reign because of the long recital of accomplishments' and the 'events were not necessarily recorded on the stele in chronological order' (Drinkard 1989: 153-4). In these conditions, the approximate date of the stele is probably given by the date of the latest event alluded to in it. Actually we probably have a kind of summary of Moabite history at the beginning of the stele in lines 2-7 and it is clear enough that Mesha enjoyed the disaster of the house of Ahab as shown by the sentence: W'R'.BH.WBBTH (line 7: cf. Emerton 2001: 194). This event corresponds to Jehu's coup d'etat in 841 BC. However, Mesh also enjoyed the disaster of the kingdom of Israel as shown by the sentence: WY$RJL/BD.'BD.'LM, 'and Israel perished utterly for ever' (line 7). As we already tried to show elsewhere (Lemaire 1987: 210-4), this disastrous state of the kingdom of Israel probably corresponds to the situation of Israel during the reign of Jehoahaz son of Jehu (c. 819/814-803): 'All through the reign of Jehoahaz, Hazael king of Aram oppressed Israel' (2 Kgs 13.22); 'Hazael had left Jehoahaz no armed force except fifty horsemen,

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ten chariots, and ten thousand infantry; all the rest the king of Aram had destroyed ('ibb dam) and made like dust under foot' (2 Kgs 13.7). If this historical correspondence is justified, the Mesha stele should be dated circa 810 BC, after a long reign of more than forty years, and some thirty years after the disappearance of the Omri dynasty. In this case, one should not expect many historical details about events between seventy and thirty years old.

3. The Omri Dynasty in the Mesha Stele Like several examples of this kind of royal inscription, Mesha begins by mentioning the bad situation of the kingdom during the previous reign, the reign of his father, probably 'Kamosh(yat)' (line 1), who reigned 'thirty years', likely a rounded number. It is probably during his reign that Moab became vassal of Israel as revealed by lines 4-5: 'MRY.MLK.Y$R'L. WY'NW.T.M'B.YMN.RBN. 'Omri (was) king of Israel and he oppressed Moab many days'. The first sentence is probably a nominative phrase or a casus pendens (Rainey 2001: 291-4) and 'NW an intensive form. The phrase YMN.RBN is unfortunately not precise. However, since Omri probably reigned c. 885/881-874, reigning alone only seven years, we could guess that he oppressed Moab early in his reign so that YMN.RBN could correspond to most of these seven years, but that would not be more than a guess. One should notice more precisely that Omri is presented not only as the king of Israel but also, implicitly, as the first enemy of Mesha and Moab since he is mentioned just after the sentence: WKY.HR'NY.BKL.SN'Y. Apparently Omri and his dynasty were the main enemies of Mesha and Moab. The explanation of the disastrous Moabite situation caused by the oppression of Omri is presented as a religious one: 'for Kamosh was angry with his land'. This kind of explanation is typical of the Northwest Semitic historiography of this period as shown by the parallel explanation in 2 Kings 13.31. After Omri, this disastrous situation went on during the reign of his son: WYHLPH.BNH. WY'MR.GM.HV'NW.'T M'B. 'And his son succeeded him, and he too said: "I will oppress Moab."' One notes that Mesha does not mention explicitly the name of Ahab, either by a kind of damnatio memoriae or because he considered him not very

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important since he did not change the situation created by his father but only went on with the same politics, which seems the nuance of GM.H'. The only difference is chronological and Mesha adds: BYMY.'MR.K/N/H/, 'in my days, he said s[o]'. The phrase BYMY, 'in my days' (cf. also lines 9 and 33) means probably here, in a royal inscription: 'in my reign' (cf. Kilamuwa 12; Karatepe A 1,5), especially after the mention of the preceding reign. Thus, apparently, Mesha became king of Moab before Ahab's death (853) which is alluded to in the next phrase: WR'.BH., 'and I looked on him' ( = 'on his downfall': Emerton 2001). However, Mesha also enjoyed the downfall of 'his house' (WBBTH). Since the previous suffix -H refers clearly to Ahab, BTH here probably means 'the house of Ahab', rather than 'the house of Omri'. This looks unusual in Semitic of this period where the personal name following 'house' with the meaning 'dynasty' is generally the name of the founder of this dynasty (see, for instance, Biran and Naveh 1993: 93). However, this corresponds to the biblical phraseology where the phrase 'house of Ahab' is well attested (2 Kgs 8.18, 27; 9.7, 8, 9...). As we already noted supra, the downfall of the 'house of Ahab' clearly corresponds with Jehu's coup d'etat in 841. The downfall of the 'house of Ahab' is now well known not only from the Bible but also, indirectly, by a mention of the submission of Jehu on an Assyrian relief of Salmanazar III as well as, more directly, with the death of the kings of Israel and Judah in the Tel Dan Aramaic inscription. Omri appears again at the end of line 7: WYR$.'MRY.'T.'RS.MHDB'.WY$B.BH.YMH.WWHSY.YMY. BNH.'RB'N.ST. 'And he took possession of the land of Madaba and he dwelt there his days and the sum of the days of (I half of my days) his sons, forty years.' According to Mesha, Omri is the one who took possession of Madaba apparently considered as a traditional Moabite land. Thus the history of the 'land of Madaba' was different from the 'land of Atarot' where the men of Gad settled 'from of old (M'LM)' (line 10). Although everybody agrees that YMH refers to the reign of Omri who dwelt in the 'land of Madaba', the phrase expressing the duration of the Israelite settlement there (Timm 1982: 162-6; Parker 1997: 48) is a notorious crux interpretum containing three philological problems and its interpretation has been much discussed. The first problem concerns the meaning of the word H$Y. Most of the commentators think that, like in Hebrew and more generally in Northwest Semitic, it means 'half or eventually 'part/portion' (Reviv 1975: 18). Because of the chronological problem (infra), some commentators proposed to translate 'most' (Liver 1967: 19) or 'much' (Gibson 1971: 79). Alternatively, comparing with Arabic hasiya, 'number/great number', HSY could mean here 'number', 'amount' (Wallis 1965), 'total' (Winckler 19oi: 404-5). The second problem concerns the interpretation of YMY. It is generally interpreted as a plural status constructus with BNH as nomen regens.

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However, S. Mittmann (2002: 34) proposed to interpret it as plural name with a suffix of the 1st pers. sing, 'my days' (cf. BYMY, lines 6, 9 and 33) while BNH would be the second subject of Y$B. Actually the interpretation of YMY as a status constructus contains a small problem since 'Omri' cannot 'settle' when he was dead and it was necessary to suppose an implicit second subject such as 'Israel'; actually it is already the implicit first subject since Omri did not live himself in the 'land of Madaba'. Thus Omri is here representative of and equivalent to Israel. The third problem is the grammatical interpretation of BNH: is it a singular ('his son') or a plural ('his sons/descendants'); the spelling for the singular is well attested in line 6 (cf. H') where BNH clearly refers to Ahab; however, the same spelling can well be a plural as shown by YMH in line 8; thus the interpretation as a singular or as a plural depends on the context (Long 2002: 372, n. 12). One can already note here that the phrase BNH in line 8 can be compared to BTH, line 7, and is probably a plural to be translated 'his sons/ descendants'. Now these various interpretation problems have also to take into account the apparent duration of the Israelite occupation of the 'land of Madaba': 'forty years', which may be a rounded number. If HSY is translated 'half as in Hebrew and YMY a status constructus^ then there is a chronological problem: the reign of Omri + the reign of his descendants would give a maximum of 28 (or only 22, if BNH is considered a singular) years, maybe 'thirty years' as a rounded numbers but not 'forty years' as claimed by Mesha. However, two interpretations could fit the indication of the 'forty years': 1) If HSY is interpreted as 'amount' and YMY a status constructus with its nomen regens BNH interpreted as a plural, then the 'forty years' would fit very well the duration of the dynasty of Omri, beginning with his sole reign (c. 881-841). 2) If HSY is interpreted as 'half and YMY as 'my days', the duration of 'forty years' would be possible even though the chronological interpretation would be approximate since we know neither the exact date of the stele (c. 810?) nor the precise date of the beginning of the reign of Mesha even though it must be before Ahab's death in 853. Furthermore we do not know when this occupation started during the reign of Omri, even if, at least, before his death c. 874 BC. One coul estimate that the Israelite occupation of Madaba was about 20 years before the beginning of Mesha's reign and about 20 years during half of his reign (probably a little more than forty years at the time of the stele, see supra). It is difficult to choose between these two philological interpretations and one may simply note here that both of them agree that Israel controlled the 'land of Madaba' till the downfall of the Omride dynasty. Actually, on one side, the Tell Dan stele is precise that the Israelite and Judaean army was still very strong till 841 BC with two thousand chariots and two thousand horsemen

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(Lemaire 1998a: 9-10; 1998b: 176), and on the other side, commentators already noted the Mesha stele does not mention encountering Israelite forces in open battle or any Israelite counter-attack (Dearman 1989: 206). So, either the Israelite army was non-existent at this time or it was occupied elsewhere, eventually in the north against the Aramaean army (Rendsburg 1981: 68-9). Actually the best historical context for a retreat of the Israelite army from the territory east of the Dead Sea in the second half of the ninth century is clearly indicated by 2 Kings 10.32-33 which recounts the conquest of Transjordan by the Aramaean army of Hazael: 'Hazael struck at them [Israel] in every corner of their territory eastwards from the Jordan: all the land of Gilead, Gad, Reuben, and Manasseh, from Aroer which is by the gorge of the Arnon, including Gilead and Bashan'. For this Aramaean conquest, an analysis of the international context renders very likely a date after 838/837 (Lemaire 1991b: 101-2). In this context, one can easily understand that Mesha could take possession of the territories east of the Dead Sea without encountering any resistance, the Israelite population only trying to take refuge within fortified towns (Atarot and Nebo) with a Yahwistic sanctuary and altar hearth(s) ('R'L: lines 12 and probably 17-18). Thus, all the 'conquests' recounted by Mesha in his stele were very probably realized during Jehu's reign and not during the Omride dynasty and we shall not deal with them in detail here. However, Mesha mentions twice an anonymous 'king of Israel' who 'built for him [probably '$ GD, cf. Rainey 1998: 244] Atarot' (lines 10-11) and 'Yahaz' (lines 18-19). Furthermore, he settled in this last town 'when he was fighting against' Mesha (line 19). Even though the settlement of the king of Israel might express the settlement of Israelite people (see supra), who is this 'king of Israel'? When did he fight against Mesha? Do these three mentions refer to the same king of Israel or is it a collective name? It looks impossible to answer these questions since we have no detail and no name. Taking into account only the Moabite inscription, this 'king of Israel' could be 'Omri' (cf. 5), or 'his son' and successor (line 6) or else 'his descendants' (line 8). Anyway he was probably a king of the Omri dynasty since the reign of Jehu looks unlikely for such events.

4. Omri Dynasty, Mesha Stele and Hebrew Historiography After this analysis of what the Mesha stele recounts about the Omri dynasty, let us have a look at the possible connections with biblical historiography. Although mentioning the reign of King Omri (1 Kgs 16.16-28), there is apparently no connection with Moab or with its king Kemosh(yat). Mesha alone is mentioned and in connection with the son of Omri, Ahab: 'Mesha king of Moab was a sheep-breeder, and he used to supply the king of Israel (MLK Y$R3L) with the wool of a hundred thousand lambs and a hundred thousand rams'. It is clear that in the present context of 2 Kings, the 'king of Israel' refers to Ahab and confirms that Mesha was, at least partially, contemporaneous with Ahab. We shall not discuss here the problem of the

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'extravagant round number' (Gray 1970: 485) of animals since the text does not define the period of time referred to, but one may note that the tribute contained only sheep which refers clearly to the importance of the pastoral economy in Moab. We find again the generic 'king of Israel' in 2 Kings 3.5: 'When Ahab died, the king of Moab rebelled [cf. 1.1] against the king of Israel.' This phrase designates here King Jehoram. Apparently this rebellion is not mentioned in the Mesha stele. However, when one reads again lines 4-8, one notes that Omri and Ahab alone are explicitly 'oppressing' ('NW) Moab. Nothing like that is repeated about the 'house' (cf. BBTH) or the 'descendants' (BNH). Later on, 2 Kings 3.6-27 recounts the story of a joint military expedition of the kings of Israel and Judah against Mesha, attacking Moab from the south-west. Although the kingdom of Judah is very probably mentioned as 'house of David (BT [D]WD)' at the end of line 31 (Lemaire 1994; pace Bordreuil 2001: 162-3), there is no allusion to an alliance between the king of Israel and the king of Judah in the preserved text of the Mesha stele. There is no allusion to an Israelite invasion from the south-west. Furthermore the only explicit reference to a direct fight between Mesha and a king of Israel is in line 19, about Yahaz that is probably located on the north-eastern border of Moab. On the other side, the biblical account does not tell us anything about the territory north-east of the Dead sea and it contains no allusion to a conquest of territories by the Moabite army, no mention of Madaba, Atarot or Nebo! Apparently the war recounted in the biblical account is different from the one referred to in the Moabite stele and there is no way to identify them, against the temptation of a biblical concordism proposed by many commentators. Actually this difference is not astonishing since the joint expedition is dated during the reign of Jehoram, probably not too late in this reign (852—841), while we have seen that the conquest of Israelite territory by Mesha in the north, as told in the stele, is very probably to be dated during the reign of Jehu, very likely after 838/837. What is surprising at first sight, is that there is apparently no reference to the joint campaign of Israel and Judah in the preserved text of the Mesha stele! Why is Mesha apparently silent about the invasion of Israel and Judah c. 850? There does not seem to be any serious reason to doubt the fundamental historicity of such an unsuccessful campaign (Lemaire 1991a: 154-7; pace Stern 1993). One could remember that the stele is unfortunately broken and incomplete and that there may have been some mention of this war in the lower part of the stele. However, this would probably not be a good explanation since, from the middle of line 31, the stele recounts the war against the 'house of David', Judah, so that we probably have apparently the whole text of the inscription dealing with the relations between Israel and Moab. Actually the explanation of the silence of Mesha about this war looks easy to understand. This war was disastrous to Moab: even though the country kept independent, its territory was laid waste and the king himself had to sacrifice his own son (2 Kgs 3.25-27). Furthermore when Mesha set up his

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memorial stele (c. 810), this painful independence war (c. 850) was alread about 40 years old and one can understand that Mesha preferred to celebrate his magnificent buildings rather than the destruction done by the enemy who inflicted him serious military defeats. The only allusion to this war could well have been at the beginning of the stele, line 4, mentioning that Kamosh saved Mesha 'from all the kings'. In conclusion, the Mesha stele certainly contains interesting information about the Omri dynasty and its political importance; however, it is certainly not an objective point of view but the interpretation of an enemy: it was written ad majorem Mesha et Kamosh gloriam while the Deuteronomistic history was written ad majorem Yhwh gloriam. Both propagandas were written by opponents: although both propagandas recounted some deeds of the Israelite kings, both were silent about important events of this 'hated' Omri dynasty, even though not for the same reason.

BIBLIOGRAPHY ANET

Ancient Near Eastern Texts relating to the Old Testament, ed. J. B. Pritchard (Princeton, 1969). Biran, A. and J. Naveh 1993 'An Aramaic Stele Fragment from Tel Dan', IE] 43: 81-98. Bordreuil, P. 2001 'A propos de 1'inscription de Mesha'. Deux notes', in P. M. M. Daviau et al. (eds.), The World of the Aramaeans, HI: Studies in Language and Literature in Honour of Paul-Eugene Dion (JSOTSup 326; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press), 158-67. Clermont-Ganneau, C. 1870 La stele de Dhiban ou stele de Mesa roi de Moab 896 avant /.-C. (Paris: Baudry and Didier) Cooke, G. A. 1903 A Text-Book of North-Semitic Inscriptions (Oxford: Clarendon Press). Davis, J. D. 1891 The Moabite Stone and the Hebrew Records', Hebraica 7: 178-82. Dearman, J. A. (ed.) 1989 Studies in the Mesha Inscription and Moab (Atlanta: Scholars). Drinkard, J. 1989 'The Literary Genre of the Mesha' Inscription', in J.A. Dearman (ed.), Studies in the Mesha Inscription (Atlanta: Scholars), 131-54. Dussaud, R. 1912 Les monuments palestiniens et juda'iques (Musee du Louvre) (Paris: Leroux). Emerton, J. A. 2001 'Looking On One's Enemies', Vetus Testamentum 51: 186-96. 2002 'The Value of the Moabite Stone as an Historical Source', VT 52: 483-92. Garbini, G. 1984 'Dati epigrafici e linguistic! sul territorio palestinese fino al VI sec. A. C.', Rivista biblica 32: 67-83. Gibson, J. C. L. 1971 Textbook of Syrian Semitic Inscriptions, I: Hebrew and Moabite Inscriptions (Oxford: Clarendon Press).

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Graham, M. P. 1989 'The Discovery and Reconstruction of the Mesha Inscription', in J. A. Dearman (ed.), Studies in the Mesha Inscription and Moab (Atlanta: Scholars), 41-92. Gray, J. 1970 I & II Kings: A Commentary (OTL; London: SCM Press, 2nd edn). Horn, S. 1986 'Why the Moabite Stone Was Blown to Pieces: 9th-Century Inscription Adds New Dimension to Biblical Account of Mesha's Rebellion', BARev 12.3: 50-61. KAI H. Dormer and W. Rollig, Kanaandische undaramdische Inschriften (Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz), 1,1966 [1962], H, 1968 [1964], m, 1969 [1964]. Kallai, Z. 1986 Historical Geography of the Bible (Jerusalem and Leiden: Magnes Press and E. J. Brill) Lemaire, A. 1987 'Notes d'epigraphie nord ouest-semitique', Syria 64: 205-14. 'La stele de Mesha et 1'histoire de 1'ancien Israel', in D. Garrone and F. Israel 1991a (eds.), Storia e tradizioni di Israele: scritti in onore di J. Alberto Soggin (Brescia: Paideia), 143-69. 1991B 'Hazael de Damas, roi d'Aram', in D. Charpin and F. Joannes (eds.), Marchands, diplomates et empereurs: Etudes sur la civilisation mesopotamienne offertes a Paul Garelli (Paris: Recherche sur les civilisations), 91-108. 1994 'La dynastic davidique (BYT DWD) dans deux inscriptions ouest-semitiques du DCe siecle av. J.-C.', SEL 11: 17-19. 1998a 'The Tel Dan Stela as a Piece of Royal Historiography', /SOT 81: 3-14. 1998b 'Chars et cavaliers dans 1'ancien Israel', Trans 15: 165-82. Liver, J. L. 'The Wars of Mesha, King of Moab', PEQ 99: 14-31. 1967 Long, V. P. 'How Reliable are Biblical Reports? Repeating Lester Grabbe's Comparative 2002 Experiment', VT 52: 367-84. Miller, J. M. 1974 'The Moabite Stone as a Memorial Stela', PEQ 106: 9-18. Mittmann, S. 'Zwei "Ratsel" der Me&z'-Inschrift: Mit einem Beitrag zur aramaischen 2002 Steleninschrift von Dan (Tell el-Qadi)\ ZDPV 118: 33-65. Na'aman, N. 'Royal Inscription Versus Prophetic Story: Mesha's Rebellion in Historical 2001 Writing', Zion 66: 5-40 (Hb), IV-V. Parker, S. B. Stories in Scripture and Inscriptions: Comparative Studies on Narratives 1997 in Northwest Semitic Inscriptions and the Hebrew Bible (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press). Rainey, A. F. 'Syntax, Hermeneutics and History', IE] 48: 239-51. 1998 2001 'Mesha' and Syntax', in J. A. Dearman and M. P. Graham (eds.), The Land that I Will Show You: Essays on the History and Archaeology of the Ancient Near East in Honour ofj. Maxwell Miller (JSOTSup 343; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press), 287-307. Rendsburg, G. 'A Reconstruction of Moabite-Israelite History', JANESCU 13: 67-73. 1981

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Reviv, H. 1975

A Commentary on Selected Inscriptions from the Period of the Monarchy in Israel (Jewish Historical Sources; Jerusalem: Historical Society of Israel). Smelik, K. A. D. 2000 '1. Moabite Inscriptions: the Inscription of King Mesha (2.3)', in W. W. Hallo (ed.), The Context of Scripture, II: Monumental Inscriptions from the Biblical World (Leiden: E. J. Brill), 137-8. Stern, P. D. 1993 'Of Kings and Moabites. History and Theology in 2 Kings 3 and the Mesha Inscription', HUCA 64: 1-14. Thompson, T. L. 2000 'Problems of Genre and Historicity with Palestine's Inscription', in A. Lemaire and M. Saeb0 (eds.), Congress Volume. Oslo 1998 (VTSup 80; Leiden: E. J. Brill), 321-6. Timm, S. 1982 Die Dynastic Omri (FRLANT 124; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht). TUAT Texte aus der Umtvelt des Alien Testaments, 1,6: Historisch-chronologische Texte ID, ed. O. Kaiser (Giitersloh: Gerd Mohn, 1985). Van Zyl, A. H. 1960 The Moabites (Leiden: E. J. Brill). Wallis, G. 1965 'Die vierzig Jahre der achten Zeile der Mesa-Inschrift', ZDPV 81: 180-6. Winckler, H. 1901 'Die Zeitangaben Mesas', in Altorientalische Forschungen, E (Leipzig: Eduard Pfeiffer), 401-7.

ROYAL INSCRIPTION VERSUS PROPHETIC STORY: MESHA'S REBELLION ACCORDING TO BIBLICAL

AND MOABITE HISTORIOGRAPHY Nadav Na'aman

The revolt of Mesha and the subsequent wars between Moab and Israel have been discussed in many scholarly works that focused, variously, on the events leading up to the revolt; the campaign of the three kings against Moab, as described in 2 Kings 3; the stele of Mesha, king of Moab; and the relationship between the biblical text and the Moabite inscription. These discussions have shed light on many issues relating to the historical and biblical aspects of the revolt, and to its place in the histories of the kingdoms of Israel and Moab. But determining the relationship between an external inscription and a biblical prophetic story is always a difficult and complex task, and many problematic issues remain open, even with regard to Mesha's revolt. This article deals, firstly and separately, with each of the two sources. It is understood that any discussion of sources calls for a critical reading and an awareness of the sources' merits and limitations, and this holds true for both the Moabite inscription and the biblical story. However, the investigation of the prophetic story as an historical source is immeasurably more complex and critical than the investigation of the inscription. The main reason is that the inscription was composed in Mesha's time, not long after the events described, whereas the biblical story was transmitted orally for many generations before being put in writing. As we shall see, the story was written in Judah, probably fairly late, and thus reached the author of the Book of Kings. This time gap prompts some quite difficult questions, e.g.: Did the author of the Book of Kings know and understand the period whose history he was writing? Did he have access to other sources that helped him understand the background of the period and the events in question? What is more, the literary character of the story, which was not intended to reconstruct past events accurately, also makes it very difficult to utilize it as an historical source; we shall return to this problem further on. The first part of the article is devoted to the examination of the inscription of the Moabite ruler, and seeks to analyse its structure and literary nature, its content and purpose, the date when it was inscribed, and its contribution to the historical reconstruction. The prophetic story is dealt with in the latter part of the article, which discusses its literary genre, its structure, aims and relation to other stories in the Book of Kings, and its potential and limitations

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as an historical source. Only after this do we come to the juxtaposition of the two sources and the possibility of combining them in a reconstruction of the historical course of events. Finally, I shall try to present a comprehensive picture of the relations between Moab and Israel under the Omrides and the early days of the House of Jehu, as it arises from the sum of available sources. 1. The Inscription of Mesh a, King of Moab 1.1 The Discovery and Text of the Mesha Stele The Mesha stone was found in 1868 by a missionary named Klein who was travelling in Transjordan. The discovery led to frantic efforts to purchase the stone, with scholars and diplomats from Germany and France scrambling to buy it and publish it. Both sides tried to persuade the Ottoman authorities to compel the local Bedouins to sell the stone, and even sent people to make a paper impression of the inscription, or at any rate to copy parts of it. These interventions by representatives of the European powers and the Ottoman authorities provoked the Bedouins to smash the stone and scatter its fragments. There followed an effort, mainly by French and British scholars, to collect and purchase the broken pieces. Eventually the fragments were brought to the Louvre Museum in Paris, where they were fitted together and published (for comprehensive account of the episode, see Horn 1983; Graham 1989). The reconstruction of the inscription was made on the basis of the surviving fragments and the paper impression made before the stone was broken. The inscription was almost fully reconstructed, except for its lower end, which was damaged beyond repair (see Clermont-Ganneau 1875; 1887; Smend and Socin 1886; Cooke 1903: 1-14; Donner and Rollig 1966-9: No. 181; Gibson 1971: 71-83; Miiller 1985; Dearman 1989b; Jackson and Dearman 1989: 93-5; Jackson 1989; Routledge 2000: 247-50).1 Recently, Lemaire (1987; 1994), having re-examined the original paper impression and the inscription itself, proposed a number of text emendations which help to understand it in certain places. To introduce the discussion I will present a translation of the text with some notes whenever necessary. 1-4:1 am Mesha', son of Chemosh[-yat], king of Moab, the Dibonite. My father was king over Moab for thirty years, and I became king after my father. I built this temple for Chemosh in Qarhoh,2 a tern [pie of 1. For the transcription and facsimile of the text, see Lidzbarski 1898: 416 and Pi. I; 1902: 9. For a good photo, see Dussaud 1912: 5 and photo. 2. Eshel's suggestion (2000: 181-4) to interpret nrnp as a fortified high place is unlikely. The comparison with Akkadian kirhu is erroneous since the latter is written with a kaph whereas Qarhoh is written with a qoph. Moreover, lines 24-25 ('There was no cistern inside the city, in Qarhoh, so I said to all the people: "make for yourselves each a cistern in his

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sajlvation, because he saved me from all the assaults/kings, and because he let me prevail over all my enemies. 4-7: Omri was king of Israel, and he oppressed Moab for many days, for Chemosh was angry with his country. His son succeeded him, and he too said: I will oppress Moab. In my days he said th[isl. But I prevailed over him and over his house, and Israel perished utterly for ever. 7-10: Now Omri had taken possession of a[ll the la]nd of Medeba, and dwelt there during his days and half of his son's days, forty years; but Chemosh returned it in my days. I built Baal-meon, and I made therein a reservoir; and I built Kiriathaim (Qiryaten). 10-14: Now the men of Gad had dwelt in the land of Ataroth from of old; and the king of Israel built Ataroth for himself. I fought against the city and took it, and I killed all the warriors;3 the city is dedicated-34 to Chemosh and for Moab. I brought back from there the altar hearth-' of (the god/king) rnvr,5 and I [dr]agged it before Chemosh in (my) city. I settled therein the men of Sharon and Maharit. 14-18: Now Chemosh said to me: Go take Nebo from Israel. So I went by night and fought against it from the break of dawn till noon, and I took it and killed all of it - seven thousand men and boys, women and girls, and maidens6 - for I devoted it to 'Ashtar-Chemosh. I took from there

house"') contradicts his suggested interpretation. For an assumed reference to Qarhoh in Isa. 15.2, see Easterly 1991. However, the parallel text in Jen 48.37 does not support this interpretation. 3. For the meaning of in the sense of the 'men at arms', see Exod. 14.6; 17.13; Num. 21.23; Deut. 20.1-2, 9; Josh. 8.3, 10; 2 Sam. 10.10; 1 Kgs. 16.16, 21-22; 22.4; 2 Kgs. 3.7; 8.21; 13.7. According to this interpretation, Mesha killed the armed forces that defended Ataroth, not the city's inhabitants. 4. Lemaire 1987: 206-7; Mittmann 2002: 46-7; Schade 2005. 5. The interpretation of the combination is disputed among scholars and various suggestions have been offered to solve the enigma. See e.g., Cooke 1903:11; Petzold 1969; Gibson 1971: 80; Jackson 1989:112-13; Mattingly 1989: 236-7; Na'aman 1997a: 88-9, with earlier literature; Rainey 1998: 244-8; Mittmann 2002: 53-9. Rainey's suggested translation 'its (the Gadite) Davidic altar hearth' is unlikely. Not only that the men of Gad are not mentioned in the context of the city's conquest, but the use of a proper name with a suffix , 'its David') is alien to Biblical Hebrew. Mittmann (2002: 53-9) recently interpreted as a transportable hearth in the form of a basket that served in the cult of the temple. However, the plene writing of (rather than , the assumed suffix in and the combination of two nouns to describe this cult object are not satisfactorily explained by his conjecture. The translation 'altar hearth' for was accepted by many scholars; and is either a tetragram of a local Moabite deity, or a personal name (Na'aman 1997a: 88-9, with earlier literature). Tropper (2001: 99-100) recently interpreted as a qatl-nominal building of the verb and the writing with the n- as a secondary marker of a long ending -a. He translates line 12 'Und ich brachte von dort den Kultstander(P) des Dauda zuruck'. 6. For the meaning of see recently Bordreuil 2001: 158-61. He defines narn: 'les femmes nubiles susceptibles de procreer, c'est-a-dire depuis jeune fille jusqu'a la femme jeune'.

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the [vesjsels of YHWH7 and dragged them before Chemosh. 18-21: Now the king of Israel had built Jahaz, and he dwelt therein while he was righting against me. But Chemosh drove him out before me. I took from Moab two hundred men, all its divisions/heads of family, and I led them against Jahaz, and captured it to annex (it) to Dibon. 21-26:1 built Qarhoh: the walls of the parks and the walls of the acropolis. I built its gates, and I built its tower. I built the king's residence, and I made the retaining walls of the reservoir [of the spri]ng inside the city. There was no cistern inside the city, in Qarljoh, so I said to all the people: make for yourselves each a cistern in his house. I had the ditches of Qarljoh dug with Israelite captives. 26-29: I built Aroer and made the highway by the Arnon.8 I built Bethbamoth, for it has been destroyed, and I built Bezer, for it was in ruins. All the men of Dibon were armed for all Dibon was on guard. I put in contro[l? officers? ov]er? the hundreds9 in the towns which I had annexed to the country. 29-31: I built [the temple of Med]eba, the temple of Diblathaim and the temple of Baal-meon, and I carried there [their] sacred ob[jects, and the best] flocks of the land.10 n 31-34: Now Horonaim, there dwelt therein [And] I 7. Some scholars suggested restoring lines 17-18 , See Ahlstrom 1982: 14; Beeston 1985:145-7; Lemaire 1987:208-9; Rainey 1998:249. The reading has already been dismissed by Cooke (1903:12) on the ground that in line 12 is singular and is preceded by . Indeed, the nota accusativi ( ) follows all imperfect verbal forms with no exception (lines 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, ll[twice], 12, 13[twice], 14, 30). Thus an accusative should be restored after the imperfect at the end of line 17. Moreover, is usually translated 'altar hearth', but the form of this object - which was dragged and hence quite big - is unknown. Thus, the assumption that a few objects of this kind were located in the temple of Nebo is arbitrary. Lines 17-18 should best be restored ('the vessels of YHWH'), as suggested by the majority of scholars. 8. Recently Tidwell (1995) suggested that the noun refers to the road which ascends from the base of the hill or mound to the city gate. In a second article (Tidwell 1996) he corrects the transcription and reads it i.e., 'the ascent in/ at the citadel'. However, the textual emendation is arbitrary. Moreover, there is no text in which is clearly related to a city gate. We should better follow the commonly accepted translation of 'highway', in the sense of a major regional road levelled by the many feet that pass along it for generations. For identification of the road that crosses the Arnon river, see Ben-David and Kloner 2003. 9. Lemaire (1987: 209) observed an / at the beginning of line 29. Tentatively I restore in lines 28-29: , The translation 'officers' is ad sensum. 10. For the restoration see Na'aman 1997a: 86 and n. 14, with earlier literature. 11. For the restoration in the sense of'House of David'and for the comparison to the Aramaic stele from Tel Dan, see Lemaire 1994a; 1994b; Rainey 1998: 250. For criticism of the rendering, see Na'aman 1997a: 89. Firstly, Lemaire's suggestion rests on the assumed similarity of the term in the Mesha stele and the Tel Dan Aramaic inscription. However, there is a marked difference between the of the Tel Dan stele (a name for the kingdom of Judah, i.e., 'Beth David') and its suggested meaning here (a

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rai[sed my hands to Chemosh,12 and] Chemosh said to me: Go down, make war against Horonaim.13 So I went down [and made war against the town and I took it]. And Chemosh [dwelt] there in my days.14 And over" (each) [fi]eld?? thence?? I gav[e?? him?? a tithe"].15 (The rest of line 33 and most of line 34 are broken).16 1.2 Structure, Genre and Ideological Messages The Mesha stele is a commemorative inscription, marking the founding of a temple built by Mesha in Qarljoh, the new centre of government established near Dibon, his birthplace and the capital of his kingdom. The inscription combines elements of dedication and of commemoration, and is designed to extol and record the king's achievements and deeds.17 The emphasis on the part played by Chemosh in the subjugation and the victory is due to the fact that the stele marked the dedication of a temple devoted to the national Moabite deity. In terms of its content, it must be categorized as a summary inscription, and it was undoubtedly made after

name for the reigning dynasty of Judah). Secondly, why should Mesha note that the House (i.e., dynasty) of David 'dwelt' in Horonaim, when its seat was at Jerusalem? And if he was referring to a certain king of Judah, why call him by a collective term ('House of David'), rather than by his proper name (similarly to Omri)? Thirdly, if Horonaim had earlier been captured by a king of Judah, why does it not appear as the motive for the assumed Moabite re-conquest, like Omri's conquests in the account of the re-conquest of north Moab? In light of these arguments I doubt the correctness of Lemaire's attractive suggestion. 12. For the restoration , see Na'aman 1994: 27. Rainey (1998: 249) translated line 31-32 as follows: 'And as for Hawronen, the House of David dwelled in it [wh]ile [it made war on me] . However, the description of a dynasty that makes war is unlikely, since it is the king who leads the army. If Mesha indeed referred to the participation of the kingdom of Judah in the struggle he would have named the king reigning there at that time. 13. Scholars have suggested various sites for the location of Horonaim (e.g., Kathrabba, Tell Meidan, 'Ai, ed-Deir, el-'Iraq, Khirbet ed-Dubab, el-Kerak); see Schottroff 1966: 190208, with earlier literature; Worschech and Knauf 1986:80-85; Dearman 1989b:188-189, with earlier literature; Dearman 1992; Smelik 1992:85-89. 14. Line 33 might be restored either ('dwelt there'), or ('restored it'). See Miller 1969; Na'aman 1994: 27; 1997a: 86-7; Rainey 1998: 249-50. I prefer the first rendering and interpret the 'dwelling' of Chemosh in Horonaim as a reference to the building of his temple in the newly conquered town 15. The restoration of the second half of line 33 ( is a guesswork. See Na'aman 1997a: 87. Rainey (1998: 249-50) restored it 'and I went up from there; [I] made(?) ...'. 16. Bordreuil (2001: 162-5) suggested deriving (line 34) from the Arabic verb tadaqa in the sense of 'to fall down in abundance' in reference to rain. He considered it possible to connect it to an episode similar to that described in 2 Kgs 3: 17. Assuming that the interpretation of the verb is correct, it should preferably be connected to a statement of the prosperity that Mesha brought to his country. Margalit (1994: 275-8) interpreted lines 33-34 as a booty list. 17. For the literary genre of Mesha inscription, see Miller 1974; Drinkard 1989.

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the conclusion of the events it described, as a comprehensive description of the king's conquests and his building enterprises up to that time.18 Needless to say, it must not be read as a chronological record of events, since the content is thematically organized, in accordance with the internal order determined by its author. Two styles are discernible in the inscription - dedicatory and commemorative in its first part, and the style of a building inscription in the second part. The difference between the two is due to their respective traditions, familiar from other royal inscriptions in the ancient Near East (Muller 1994: 374-88; see also Auffret 1980; Smelik 1992: 59-73). The first part reiterates the motif of a holy war, emphasizing the central role of the deity in the victory. The bravery of the ruler and his army are also mentioned, though to a lesser extent. The verbs are often written with the waw consecutive and are followed by accusative forms. In contrast, the second part emphasizes the endeavours and deeds of the ruler, and the word T recurs frequently. It is followed by a past-tense verbs in the first-person , which are not followed by the accusative (except for line 30). The role of the deity is not mentioned, in contrast to its prominent presence in the first part. In marked deviation from other royal inscriptions, following the description of building projects there is an additional passage describing an act of war (lines 31-33). Furthermore, the inscription does not conclude with a blessing or a curse, as was customary in royal inscriptions, and we do not know if they were left out, or perhaps appeared in abbreviated form in the final part that did not endure. Having been composed in a place that did not have an established tradition of royal inscriptions, the Mesha stele combines elements known from royal inscriptions in the region as a whole, with distinctive features that do not appear elsewhere. The words of the inscription are separated by dots, and in some places by short perpendicular strokes. De Moor (1988) has suggested that the strokes indicate strophes, because many of these sentences contain internal parallels, and some of the sentences reveal external parallelism. On this basis, he attempted to reconstruct larger literary units of several sentences, and concluded that the Mesha inscription was written as narrative poetry, a genre with many equivalents in West-Semitic prose and in the Bible. Of course the presence of external parallels does not necessarily indicate the existence of paragraphs - i.e., units larger than sentences - and it may have been merely a literary feature. But the presence of separating strokes and the many parallels does hint at the literary nature of the inscription and the creative talent of the royal Moabite author who composed it. It may also point to the rise o

18. Already Davis (1891: 178) noted that 'It is a memorial stele; not commemorativ merely of Moab's recovery of independence from Israel, but retrospective of the reign of Mesha'. He further commented (p. 179) that 'the stele was erected late in the reign ... not improbably, after the extinction of the line of Omri by Jehu and the entrance of Israel into its period of dire distress'.

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literacy in the contemporary neighbouring kingdoms on both sides of the Jordan.19 Structurally, the inscription may be divided as follows (Smelik 1990; 1992: 59-72): (a) Preamble (lines 1-4); (b) Summary of the events from start to finish (lines 4-7); (c) Mesha's wars in the north (lines 7-21); (d) Mesha's building enterprises throughout his kingdom (lines 28-31); (e) The story of the war in Horonaim (lines 31-33); (f) A presumed, non-extant, conclusion. In the preamble Mesha states that he is a legitimate ruler, being a scion of the ruling dynasty in Dibon, the site and circumstances that led to the erection of the stele, and his gratitude and devotion to Chemosh, the liberating deity, thanks to whom he had achieved victory. In the second part Mesha states that Moab had been subjugated by Israel in his father's reign, and that he himself liberated Moab and destroyed Israel. This is a typical presentation by kings in the ancient Near East - their inscriptions sometimes stress their predecessors' weaknesses and even failures (in principle or in practice), so as to aggrandize their own achievements. A fine example of it is the inscription placed by Kilamuwa, king of Sam'al, roughly at the time of Mesha's stele (lines 1-5): 'I am Kilamuwa, the son of Hayya. Gabbar became king over Y'dy but he was ineffective. There was Bmh but he was ineffective. There was my father Hayya but he was ineffective. There was my brother Sha'il but he was ineffective. But I, Kilamuwa, son of Tamal, what I achieved, the former (kings) did not achieve.'20 The motif of the enemy's success being due to the weakness or failures of the previous ruler and the change wrought by the reigning one contains another element - the justification of the present attacks and conquest against the background of past events. Such an inscription aimed to convince the addressee - i.e., the deity - and the population that this was not mere aggression but a justified response to the other side's aggression. Mesha justifies his attacks on Medeba, Ataroth and Jahaz, arguing that they had been seized by the king of Israel (Omri) in his (Mesha's) father's reign, and retained by Omri's heirs. Thus the king of Israel was the aggressor and occupier, while Mesha's actions were but a response to the Israelite aggression. Thus his conquests were, in part, a restoration of the status quo ante, and in part (as when he attacks the city of Nebo), a well-deserved punishment meted to

19. For further discussion of the literary quality of the text, see Margalit 1994: 271-4. For a comparison between the structure of the verbs and the narrative style of the Mesha inscription, see recently Niccacci 1999; Rainey 2001. 20. For a detailed discussion of Kilamuwa's inscription, see Tropper 1993: 27-46, 153-4.

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the former aggressor (for a comprehensive discussion of this motif, see Oded 1992). It should be noted, finally, that Mesha also offers a theological explanation for Omri's conquest of Moab - 'for Chemosh was angry with his country' (line 5). In the conceptual world of the ancient Near East a victory in battle was the victory of the deity's victorious side, and defeat indicated the weakness of the deity of the losing side. Thus failure and defeat constituted a theological problem, which was resolved with the argument that defeat as much as victory reflected the deity's sovereign will. The explanation of defeat and subjugation as signs of the deity's anger with his people is especially common in the Bible, but it is also found in documents from some other ancient Near Eastern kingdoms. A striking parallel with the Mesha inscription is found in one of the inscriptions of King Nebopolassar of Babylonia (625-605 BCE), who liberated his country from Assyrian rule (Langdon 1912: 68, lines 17-21; al-Rawi 1985: 3, lines I 28-ii 5): The Assyrian, who had, because of the wrath of the gods, ruled the land of Akkad and who had oppressed the people of the land with his heavy yoke - I, the weak, the powerless, who constantly seek after the lord of lords, with the mighty strength of Nabu and Marduk, my lords, I chased them (the Assyrians) out of the land of Akkad and caused (the Babylonians) to throw off their yoke.

Mesha uses this explanation to stress that it was not Chemosh's weakness which had caused Moab to be subjugated, but rather the deity's - unexplained - anger with his people. The use of the verb 'np to denote the divine wrath, signalled by severe punishment, is familiar from the Bible (Deut. 9.8; 1 Kgs 8.56; Ps. 79.5; 85.6). The Israelite and the Moabite authors used the same verb to explain that punishment for sin, rather than the deity's weakness, accounted for defeat and subjugation. In the third part Mesha expounds on his wars and conquests. First he describes the conquest of three places which he claims had earlier been conquered by Omri - the land of Medeba (lines 7-8), Ataroth (lines 10-11) and Jahaz (lines 18-19). To emphasize that the conquest of Medeba is in fact a restoration of the territory to its rightful owners, he used the hiphil of the verb ('returned it'). He uses the same form ( , 'brought back') when describing the towing of the altar hearth i , which he had captured in Ataroth, to the cultic site in his capital. Nebo and Horonaim, however, must have lain outside the 'occupied Moabite territories', and Mesha, to justify their seizure, stresses that the war against them was waged at the express order of Chemosh. The description of the campaign against Nebo opens with the words, 'Now Chemosh said to me: Go take Nebo from Israel' (line 14). Likewise, the campaign against Horonaim could have opened with the words, '[And] I rai[sed my hands to Chemosh, and] Chemosh said to me: Go down, make war against Horonaim (lines 31-32). Thus Mesha justifies his conquests in two ways - by arguing that he was recovering lost territories, and by claiming to have acted on a

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direct order from the deity. In reality, Mesha must have consulted a prophet, who asked the deity if the planned campaign would succeed and received the positive reply which he 'quoted' in the inscription. We may then draw the indirect conclusion that in Moab, as in Israel, it was customary to ask a prophet to verify the deity's intention, the prophet acting as the deity's spokesman in matters on which he was consulted. In the description of the conquest of the five places, Chemosh is twice referred to as the conqueror (lines 8-9, 19), and twice as the war's initiator. Chemosh is described three times as receiving a choice portion of the booty - mn *?K"1K in the conquest of Ataroth (line 12), the vessels of YHWH in the conquest of Nebo (lines 17-18), and possibly the city's tithe in the conquest of Horonaim (line 33; the reconstruction of this passage is very uncertain). Thus the overall message of the inscription is, quite plainly, that Chemosh is the warrior deity, who leads the king and his people to victory. The conquest of the three territories, which Mesha states had earlier been captured by Omri, is followed by the settling of Moabites in their boundaries. After conquering Medeba, Mesha rebuilt the cities Baal-meon and Kiriathaim/ Qiryaten (lines 9-10); after conquering Ataroth, he settled in it the people of Sharon and Maharit (lines 13-14), and having conquered Jahaz, he must have settled in it two hundred divisions/heads of family, presumably with their kinsfolk. No such settlement is mentioned after the conquest of Nebo, perhaps because of the ban imposed on the city (cf. the ban imposed on Jericho in Jos. 6.26). The description of the conquest of Horonaim is broken off, so we do not know if it was followed by settlement. Thus conquest and settlement are depicted as complementary measures to reinforce the restoration of Moabite territories to Moabite rule. The description of the conquest of Ataroth poses a problem. It opens with the words, 'Now the men of Gad had dwelt in the land of Ataroth from of old; and the king of Israel built Ataroth for himself. In the biblical historiography Gad is described as one of the tribes of Israel, so that 'men of Gad' are usually regarded as Israelites who lived in the town. Dibon appears in the list of the cities of Gad as lying in the tribe's inheritance (Num. 32.3, 34). Moreover, it alone appears in a possessive form, 'Dibon-Gad' (Num. 33.45-46), suggesting that it was a major city in the tribal territory of Gad. However, Mesha's inscription states that Dibon was his birthplace, the city of his ancestors, and it is obvious that it had been a Moabite city from the rise of the new array of kingdoms at the start of the first millennium BCE. It appears that Gad was a large tribe whose families and clans settled in the towns of the Mishor, between the Arnon and Wadi Nimrin, since ancient time. Following the rise of the new array of kingdoms in the early first millennium BCE, the tribe was split in two - its northern part became incorporated in the kingdom of Israel and its southern part in the kingdom of Moab. Examples of tribes being split between two neighbouring kingdoms or states are well known in earlier and later periods, and the picture emerging from the Mesha inscription and the biblical historiography is not exceptional. The a-historical elements in the biblical description are the claim that the inheritance of Gad extended between Wadi

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el-Kefrein and the Lake of Galilee (Josh. 13.24-27), that the tribe of Reuben extended between the Arnon river and Wadi el-Kefrein (Josh. 13.15-20, 23), that the two tribes were Israelites and hence that their allotments were part of the Israelite territory. It should be kept in mind that the biblical system of tribal inheritances was an artificial construction having an obvious ideological purpose, and did not reflect the true situation at any time in the history of Israel (Na'aman 1986a: 91-5; 1986b: 482-8; Schorn 1997: 99-103, with earlier literature). The historical seats of the two tribes in the late monarchical period appear in Num. 32: 34-38 and almost all the towns enumerated there were located in the Moabite territory (Wiist 1975: 91-185 [esp. pp. 147-53] Mittmann 1995; Schorn 1997: 137-202 [esp. pp. 157-9]). The question therefore arises, whether in the beginning of the ninth century Ataroth was an Israelite city, or a Moabite city which had been captured and fortified by Omri? It is significant that Mesha states that the 'men of Gad' had been in Ataroth 'from of old'. Why would the king of Moab refer to the immemorial presence of Gad in the place, if they were his enemies? It is more reasonable to assume that Mesha regarded the tribe of Gad as Moabite, like his townsmen of Dibon, and wished to emphasize that Omri had captured Ataroth from its rightful owners, whereas his own conquests restored its ancient status (Knauf 1988: 162 n. 689; 1991: 26). That is how I interpret ny - in the sense of 'warriors' and the personal pronoun - in the sense of 'for himself. In summary, I wish to emphasize that Mesha employs two arguments to justify his conquests - he is restoring lands to their former and rightful owners (Medeba, Ataroth and Jahaz), and obeying a direct command of the deity (Nebo and Horonaim). 1.3 Dating the Mesha Stele The inscription seems to provide a time frame for the events described. Mesha states that his father reigned for thirty years, and that he succeeded him (lines 2-3). Further on he states that Omri subjugated Moab and inhabited it, as did his son, a total of forty years, after which he (Mesha) liberated Moab from Israel's yoke (lines 7-9). He goes on to say that Omri's 'son' inherited the throne and sought to continue subjugating Moab in his own reign, but he (Mesha) had lived to see his destruction and that of his 'house' and Israel 'perished utterly for ever' (lines 6-7). Thefiguresquoted - thirty, forty - appear schematic. Omri reigned twelve years, Ahab twenty-two, Ahaziah two and Joram about twelve. Scholars, assuming that 'his son' meant a scion of his dynasty, added up the reigns of the first three rulers and half of the last to obtain about forty years. But it is doubtful if the inscription's figures are accurate. The round number forty represents a generation, as the Bible shows with several instances of forty (= a generation) as a concept (Lev. 14.29-38, 32.13; Judg. 13.1; Ezek. 4.6, 29.11-13). Other figures in the inscription are equally doubtful - e.g., the seven thousand killed by Mesha during the conquest of Nebo (line 16), which exceeds by orders of magnitude the capacity of a single town in those days.

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Likewise, the mention of two hundred divisions/heads of family Mesha claims to have installed in Jahaz (line 20) seems exaggerated. It is doubtful that any of the figures quoted in the inscription is accurate, and it is best to regard them as literary-ideological numerical representations of ideas.21 According to Mesha, the revolt broke out in the reign of Omri's 'son' (lines 6-7), which on the face of it would appear to be Ahab. But it is possible to interpret 'son' as dynastic descendant, so it could be one of Ahab's sons (cf., Gen. 31.28, 43; 32.1).22 The inscription suggests that Moab was subjugated by Israel for many years ('many days', 'forty years'), which accords with the biblical statement (2 Kgs 1.1; 3.5) that the revolt broke out in the reign of Joram, son of Ahab, and that the campaign of the three kings against Moab took place soon after.23 The exact date of the revolt is not known, and depends largely on the validity of the statement that Jehoshaphat - who, according to the biblical synchronicity, reigned in Judah during the first half of Joram's reign in Israel (2 Kgs 3.1; 8.16) - took part in the campaign against Moab. A useful clue to dating these events is Mesha's statement that he had lived to see the fall of the overlord and his 'house', i.e., dynasty Already Clermont-Ganneau (1887: 79-80, n. 1) interpreted it as a reference to the fall of the house of Omri, and proposed (very cautiously and with reservations) that Mesha's rule corresponded to the reigns of four Israelite kings (Ahab, Ahaziah, Joram and Jehu). Davis (1891: 178-82), writing a few years later, also noted that Mesha was active in Jehu's time, and even stressed that the phrase, 'Israel perished utterly for ever', indicates that the stele dated from late in Jehu's reign, when large tracts in Transjordan had been conquered by Hazael, king of Aram (2 Kgs 10.32-33) (see also Wallis 1965; Miller 1974: 14-18; Dearman 1989b: 159-70). Lemaire (1987: 210-14; 1991: 146-50) reiterated these data, and even proposed dating the stele to the reign of Jehoahaz of Israel, at a time when the Aramaic assault was at its height and Israel was subjugated by Aram (2 Kgs 13.14-24). He argues that the inscription, with the phrase 'Israel perished utterly for ever', dated from about 810 BCE, the middle of Jehoahaz's reign and near the end of Hazael, king of Aram's.

21. For the use of large numbers and quantifications in the Assyrian royal inscriptions, see De Odorico 1995. 22. For 'son' in the sense of 'descendant', see Davis 1891:181; Wallis 1965:180; Donner and Rollig 1966-69:174, with earlier literature; Lemaire 1991:153; Mittmann 2002: 33-7. The assumption that the yod diphthong was the sign of the construct plural and that (line 8) may be translated as a plural form ('his sons') should probably be abandoned. Easterly (2002) demonstrated that the Mesha stele consistently renders the suffixed singular noun by whereas the plural is written by yod, i.e., ('its gates', line 22). He thus concludes (p. 18) that 'the words in the Mesha inscription can all be considered singular nouns with singular suffixes'. 23. The assumption that the revolt broke in the time of Joram, the son of Ahab, was accepted by many scholars. See e.g., Davis 1891: 181-2; Miller 1974: 15 n. 29, with earlier literature; Lemaire 1991: 146-50.

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I tend to agree with these scholars that the success of the revolt and the expansion of the Moabite kingdom north and south were closely connected to the expansion of Aram's rule under Hazael. It would appear that Mesha was an ally of Hazael, and used Israel's weakness under Jehu's dynasty to extend his rule northwards, seizing territories which had been occupied by Israel. But I take exception to the late date proposed by Lemaire. It should be noted that the prophecies of Isaiah 16-17 and Jeremiah 48 on Moab list a number of Moabite cities, all of which lie north of the regions captured by Mesha (Jazer, Elealeh, Heshbon, Sibmah, Mephaath). Especially significant is the term 'the plains of Moab', denoting the region east of Jericho in many biblical texts (Lev. 22.1; 26.3, 43; 31.12; 33.48-50; 35:1; 36:13; Deut. 34.1, 8; Josh. 13.32). The term undoubtedly indicates that the area had been occupied and settled by the Moabites (ascribing it to the period of Israelite wandering is obviously anachronistic) (Na'aman 1995: 110). Similarly relevant is the story in 2 Kgs 13.20, that Moabite bands invaded an area west of the Jordan the year of Elisha's death. It seems certain that the area between Nebo and Wadi el-Kefrein was captured by the Moabites after Mesha's stele was erected, most likely in the reign of Jehoahaz, which was the nadir of the kingdom of Israel. Thus Mesha's stele must have been made in the reign of Jehu, after Israelite Transjordan had been conquered by Aram (2 Kgs 10.32-33), and the phrase 'Israel perished utterly for ever' is a boastful overstatement, typical of royal inscriptions in the ancient Near East. The Moabite assault must have continued after the erection of the stone, and during Jehoahaz's reign Israel lost more lands in the northern plain (see 2 Kgs 13:3, 22). We have no way of knowing if it was Mesha or his successor who conquered them. Certainly Israel's recovery under Joash and Jeroboam II did not restore those territories to its rule, and they remained in Moabite hands until the end of the First Temple period. The assumption that the inscription was composed some time during Jehu's reign, a long time after the start of the events it describes, helps to understand its structure better, especially the description in lines 6-9. This passage is deliberately obscure , blurring the fact that Moab was subjugated to Israel for a long time, and that a long time elapsed between the outbreak of the revolt and the conquest of Medeba. The terms bnh and bth serve Mesha's purpose well, and contribute to the calculated structure of the entire passage. First, Mesha describes Moab's subjugation and her rebellion against Israel, to emphasize his success in contrast to his father's failure, while blurring the fact that he too had been subjugated by Israel for a good many years. Then he goes on to describe the conquest of the land of Medeba. The order of the passages bridges the time gap between the two events creating an impression that they were consecutive. In summary, it may be concluded that Omri conquered Moabite territories north of the Arnon, and Ahab also ruled over the lands seized by his father. Mesha rebelled in Joram's reign, and perhaps began to build Dibon and restore the adjoining district (lines 21-28). Joram, who succeeded Ahaziah, attempted to reimpose Israel's rule over Moab, but failed. Moab's great expansion took

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place after Jehu's revolt, when Hazael launched his attack and conquered the Israelite territories in Transjordan. Mesha seized the opportunity to attack the Israelite plain, conquered it and annexed it to his territory. 2. The Story of the Campaign of the Three Kings against Moab 2.1 Genre, Aims, and Chronological and Historical Problems Chapter 3 of 2 Kings describes the campaign led by Joram, king of Israel, Jehoshaphat, king of Judah, and the king of Edom against Mesha, king of Moab. The story begins with a description of Moab's subjugation in Ahab's reign and Mesha's rebellion 'when Ahab was dead', after which the armies of Israel, Judah and Edom went to war against Moab. They chose to attack it from the south, on the road leading from the Dead Sea, over the Edom height to Moab's southern border. On their way they were miraculously saved from a severe water shortage. Then they defeated the Moabite army, conquered the land of Moab and besieged Kir-hareseth - presumably the capital of Moab. But they failed to capture the city or to defeat the king of Moab, and had to withdraw without re-subjugating Moab.24 Scholars have categorized the story of the campaign of the three kings in chapter 3 as a prophetic story, because it is centred on the prophecy of Elisha and its fulfilment. The main message of the story is that the word of God, as pronounced by the prophet, is borne out by the course of events.25 Rofe (1988: 55-74) called these prophetic stories, which describe matters of state being miraculously resolved by the prophet's actions, 'political legenda'. The theme of prophecy and its fulfilment is well known from the Book of Kings; many of the stories in the Elisha cycle focus on the fulfilment of the word of God as spoken by the prophet. The political legend is characterized by a conjunction of several motifs - a catastrophe causes the people to despair, an appeal to the prophet to intervene is followed by a miracle, foretold by the prophet and fulfilled, which delivers the people from the catastrophe (other examples are 2 Kgs 6.8-23; 6.24-7.20). According to the Book of Kings, Elisha began his career before the end of the reign of Ahab (1 Kgs 19.15-21; Ahab's death is dated c. 853-852 BCE), and he died in the reign of Joash, son of Jehoahaz (2 Kgs 13.14-21), who had ascended the throne c. 800 BCE. Thus he was active for more than fifty years,

24. For the literature that discusses the campaign of the three kings against Moab, see Liver 1967: 26-31; Bernhardt 1971; Schweizer 1974: 19-180; Long 1973; Timm 1982: 157-80; Bardett 1983; Stipp 1987: 63-151, 365-7, 440-1, 470-5; Dearman 1989b: 197-203; Burns 1990; Lemaire 1991: 153-7; Smelik 1992: 85-92; Stern 1993; Miiller 1994: 388-90; Otto 2001: 197-219. 25. Some scholars suggested separating the narrative into two original accounts: a story of the campaign of the kings of Israel and Judah against Moab (w. 4-9a, 20-27) and a story of the miraculous deliverance of the army from death by thirst (w. 9b-17). See Schmitt 1972: 32-7; Wurthwein 1984: 279-85.

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first at Elijah's side and later on his own. Moreover, most of the prophetic stories about Elisha are integrated in the history of Joram, the son of Ahab, (the two stories in 2 Kgs 13.14-21 are exceptional). But scholars doubt the reliability of the biblical stories that describe Elisha as active already in the reigns of Ahab and his son Joram and concluded that Elisha in fact acted under the dynasty of Jehu, and that the stories ascribed by an editor to the reign of Joram were in fact associated with the reigns of Jehu and Jehoahaz and the early reign of Joash.26 It has been argued that the story in 2 Kings 3 originally spoke of a nameless prophet, and only later revision identified him with Elisha. It has also been suggested that the original story did not name the kings of Israel and Judah, and their identification with Joram and Jehoshaphat was made by a later editor, who also reworked the prophetic story, struggled over its association, and decided that the anonymous protagonists were these particular individuals (see e.g., Miller 1966: 441-9, 454; Bernhardt 1971: 11-22; Bartlett 1983: 141-5; Wiirthwein 1984: 279). Against these suppositions it should be noted that the story contains several elements that tie it closely to Elisha and to the last days of the Omride dynasty (see Cogan and Tadmor 1988: 49): (a) The narrator describes Mesha's rebellion, which erupted after the death of Ahab, as the cause of the campaign. Joram, king of Israel, is mentioned once (v. 6), whereas Jehoshaphat, king of Judah, is mentioned five times. To argue that the story describes a different period would require omitting the names of the kings and the explanation of the events (w. 4-6). Yet removing the explanation means leaving the story without an appropriate background, and if the explanation is original, then Joram, son of Ahab, must have been the king in question, and it makes no sense to argue that he was a late addition. (b) It is not possible to date the story of the joint campaign of the kings of Israel and Judah to the early stage of Jehu's dynasty, because of the hostility between the two kingdoms following Jehu's revolt. This state of affairs continued in the reign of Joash, king of Israel, who fought against Amaziah, king of Judah. In contrast, dating the campaign to the reign of Joram, king of Israel, accords well with what is known about the alliance between the two kingdoms during the Omride dynasty. This connection is also corroborated by an Aramaic inscription from Tel Dan, which states that Joram of Israel and Ahaziah of Judah were killed in battle against Hazael, king of Aram (cf. 2 Kgs 8.28-29).

26. There is a long debate about the date in which the Elisha stories were inserted to the Book of kings. Some scholars suggested that the pre-Deuteronomistic narratives about Elisha were integrated into the Book of Kings by the Deuteronomist, whereas others suggested that it was inserted by a later editor into the original Deuteronomistic History. For the list of literature, see Otto 2003: 488-9 notes 1, 5.

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(c) Verse 13 has Elisha saying to the king of Israel, 'What have I to do with you? Go to the prophets of your father and the prophets of your mother.' Clearly the author was familiar with the Elijah story cycle (1 Kings 18-19), and the references to 'your mother' and 'your father' refer to Ahab and Jezebel. Therefore Joram, the son of Ahab, must be the king in question. (d) The story depicts Elisha as a disciple of Elijah, who has lately begun to act in his own right (v. 11: 'Elisha the son of Shaphat is here, who poured water on the hands of Elijah.') The narrator obviously knew the stories of Elisha's ordination by Elijah (1 Kgs 19.15-21), and of Elijah's rising to heaven, leaving Elisha as his successor (2 Kgs 2.1-18), and incorporated the present narrative in the early stage of Elisha's independent career. In the following stories (2 Kgs 4.1-8, 15) Elisha is already a prophet whose renown has spread throughout the kingdom. In view of the above, we may conclude that the story of the campaign of the three kings was originally associated with Joram, son of Ahab, and interpolated between the story cycles of Elijah and Elisha. The author was familiar with the Elijah stories and Elisha's role in them (v. 13 hints at the prophets of Baal and Asherah and the figures of Ahab and Jezebel; and v. 11 hints at Elisha's ordination by Elijah). We must try to determine whether the story was composed together with the Elijah and Elisha cycles or later. As we have seen, Elisha was active during the Jehu dynasty, so that setting his story cycle in the time of Joram, son of Ahab, is erroneous. Linking Joram and Elisha in the present story is therefore also erroneous, but that is not to say that the story was originally about a nameless prophet, later identified with Elisha. The story about the campaign of the kings against Moab was written originally about Joram, Jehoshaphat and Elisha, and the erroneous link between them was made by the author of the present story. The story's incompatibility with the reign of Jehoshaphat is also evident in the contradiction between the biblical statement in the history of this reign (1 Kgs 22.47), 'There was no king in Edom; a deputy was king', and the existence of a king of Edom in the prophetic story (w. 9, 12). According to the sequence in the Book of Kings, Edom rebelled against Judah in the time of Jehoram, son of Jehoshaphat, after which Edom was ruled by a king (2 Kgs 8.20-22). The attempt to resolve the conflict between the present story and the history of Jehoshaphat and his son Joram has led to several suggestions. Some scholars have suggested that the Judahite deputy led the Edomite army in the war, and was therefore dubbed 'king of Edom' in the story (e.g., Kittel 1917: 401 n. 2; Montgomery 1951: 360; Liver 1967: 27). Others have argued that the deputy was an Edomite, regarded by the local population as their king, and the author adopted this notion and referred to him as king of Edom (Cogan and Tadmor 1988: 44-5). But these suppositions seem unfounded. It must be remembered that the campaign passed through Edom, and that the name Edom has a prominent place in the narrative (v. 8: DTTX ~ma ['the wilderness

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of Edom']; v. 20: r ['the direction of Edom'j; v. 22: ['the water as red as blood']). The author assumed that the passage through Edom required Edomite cooperation, and therefore included the king of Edom in the alliance (Bartlett 1983: 143). He disregarded the fact that monarchy was not instituted in Edom until later, so that the inclusion of an Edomite king in the campaign was anachronistic. Thus, like Joram and Jehoshaphat, the king of Edom was a product of the author's pen. In summary, the argument that the story in 2 Kings 3 was originally told about other personages, or a later period (i.e., the Jehu dynasty), must be rejected. The story was composed as a single unit by a single author, and all its elements are organically related (Long 1973: 337-48; 1991: 38^8). The story consists of several elements, some of which are inappropriate to the assigned period. The error is due to the fact that the story was written a long time after the events described, and the author was unfamiliar with the realities in the relevant period. In his ignorance of the ancient situation, the author incorporated in the narrative persons and elements which in fact belonged to other periods in the histories of Israel and Judah. He was, however, familiar with the story cycles of Elijah and Elisha, and composed a story which fitted neatly on the seam between the two. At the centre of the present story are the prophet and his prophecy, as well as the doctrine that the word of God, as spoken by God's prophet, is fulfilled in its entirety. Yet in the end the author also shows the prophet's limitations, given that the final outcome of the campaign conflicted with the spirit of his prophecy, though it had been completely fulfilled. Perhaps the ending implied a subtle criticism of prophecy and prophets in Israel. Most of the story revolves around Elisha's two prophecies and their fulfilment, with the gathering before the campaign and the passage through Edom providing the background. It seems that only the preamble to the story is unrelated to the prophet and the prophecy, and its purpose was to provide an introduction to the story of the campaign. Perhaps this part of the story and possibly its unusual ending retain the ancient sources from which the author derived his narrative. The story is clearly sympathetic to the king of Judah and hostile to the king of Israel. As soon as the water crisis occurs, Joram expresses despair and the belief that YHWH intends to defeat the three kings (w. 10, 13b), while Jehoshaphat proposes appealing to YHWH to discover his real intention (v. Ha). Joram is not even aware that Elisha is in the camp until his servant informs him (v. lib). In contrast, Jehoshaphat knows that Elisha is a prophet of YHWH (v. 12a). At first Elisha refuses to prophesy for Joram, and directs him to the proper address for a son of Ahab - namely, the prophets of the Baal and Asherah (v. 13a) - and only agrees to cooperate because of Jehoshaphat's involvement in the campaign (v. 14). It is obvious that the author is pro-Judahite and that the story was composed in the kingdom of Judah. Jehoshaphat is depicted as a pious king who follows YHWH and his prophets - in contrast to the king of Israel, who easily panics and has made no provisions for consulting YHWH on the campaign; he is fortunate in having Elisha in his camp.

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Two other elements in this story require special consideration. (a) Verse 26 states that the king of Moab 'took with him seven hundred swordsmen to break through, opposite the king of Edom'. Scholars have sought to explain this by suggesting that the king of Edom was the weak link of the alliance, prompting the king of Moab to try to break through to the Edomite army (Sanda 1912: 23; Cogan and Tadmor 1988: 47 But not only is this interpretation incompatible with the words 'opposite the king of Edom', there is nothing in the story to suggest that Edom was the alliance's weak link. The Septuagint has 'Aram' in place of 'Edom' and many scholars have favoured it over the masoretic version (e.g., Montgomery 1951: 363; Gray 1970: 484 n. d; Barthelemy 1982: 384). It is worth noting that the cycle of prophetic stories associated with the Omride dynasty depicts Aram consistently as an enemy of Israel (2 Kings 20; 22; and the entire story cycle of Elisha). It is therefore reasonable to assume that the Septuagint reflects the original text. The author must have meant to show that the king of Moab tried to break through to his natural ally, Israel's bitter enemy. Needless to say, thi element would also be more compatible with the realities of the Jehu dynasty than with the reign of Joram, son of Ahab, so that it may be added to the anachronisms listed above. (b) At the height of the campaign against Moab the three kings laid siege to Kir-hareseth, no doubt the king of Moab's capital city. The city is referred to again (spelled Kir-hareseth and Kir-hares) in the prophecies of Isaiah (16.7, 11) and Jeremiah (48.31, 36). Isa. 15.1 mentions Kir of Moab in parallel to Ar of Moab. Most scholars have identified it with Kir-Hares(eth), and located it on the site of the Crusader fort of el-Kerak, south of the Arnon (e.g., Sanda 1919: 23; Abel 1938: 418-19; van Zyl 1960: 69-71; Rudolph 1963: 133; Liver 1967: 30; Oded 1976:177-181, with earlier literature), but the identification is in dispute (Krauss 1908: 267-9; Miller 1989: 35-6; Jones 1991; Smelik 1992: 85-9). In the four verses of Isaiah and Jeremiah which mention Kir-hares(eth) it is paralleled by Moab, and it has been suggested that the name was used as a contemptuous epithet for the kingdom, describing it as a wall ('kir') built of earthen bricks (less firm than a stone wall) (de Vaux 1958: 133; Jones 1991: 17-18). Kir of Moab, by contrast, is paralleled by Ar of Moab. Weippert (1998) has proposed that it was the capital of Ar, the Moabite province south of the Dead Sea, and identified as el-Kerak. Documents from the Roman and Byzantine periods refer to el-Kerak as XopOKuxnpo, which strongly suggests identification with Kir of Moab. However, its identification with Kir-hares(eth) remains uncertain. Jones (1991: 9-13) has shown that the Aramaic and Greek translations of Isaiah and Jeremiah no longer recognized that Kir-Hares(eth) was a place name, and translated it literally. It would seem that its location was forgotten during the Persian period. A stele fragment found at el-Kerak

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refers to '3Xa ^a jrrcn [D ...]' (Reed and Winnett 1963; Freedman 1964; Weippert 1964: 169-72; Jackson 1989: 102). In so far as the stele was in fact written by Mesha (restoring it '[Mesha son of Che]mosh-yat, king of Moab'), this could be evidence of his presence at the site, but it remains a mere speculation. Other scholars dispute the identification of Kir-hares(eth) as el-Kerak, and propose others. Jones (1991: 18-22) suggested identifying it with the northern limit of Moab, while Smelik (1992: 85-9) has suggested that Kir-Hareseth is Qarhoh, Mesha's capital city. In this way he sought to link the Mesha stele to the present story, and to identify the city that was attacked by the three kings with the capital city built by Mesha near Dibon. But neither of these suggestions convinces. The prophecies of Isaiah and Jeremiah mention Dibon alongside the reference to Kir-hares(eth), meaning that these were two distinct locations. Moreover, the route of the campaign of the three kings, south of the Dead Sea, is inconsistent with any northern Moabite site. Indeed, the description in 2 Kings 3 of a southern route suggests that the site of Kir-hareseth should be sought south of the Arnon. Despite the uncertain identification of Kir-hares(eth), it seems best to adopt the accepted idea of identifying it with el-Kerak, the main city south of the Arnon. Thus the three kings led their campaign to the region south of the Arnon river, failed to capture its main city, and retreated the way they had come. Of course, this identification conflicts with the testimony of the Mesha inscription, namely, that Dibon was his seat and the capital of his kingdom. 2.2 Between History and Legend - The story About the Campaign of the Three Kings against Moab Some scholars suggested that the narratives about the Omride wars against Aram and Moab (1 Kgs 20.1-43; 22.1-38; 2 Kgs 3.4-27; 6.24-7.20) are post-Deuteronomistic insertions to the original Deuteronomistic History.27 The bone of contention is the issue of coherency in the presentation of the history of Israel and the assumption of these scholars that each and every inconsistency in the theology or the chain of events must be explained as an insertion to an original theologically clear and undisturbed plot. Thus, they admit to the original Deuteronomistic work only texts with unmistakable Deuteronomistic insertions (i.e., 1 Kgs 21; 2 Kgs 1; 9-10). This is not the place to open discussion of this principal problem. I explain the inconsistencies, and even internal contradictions, on the basis of sources and the way they were incorporated by the Deuteronomist (Na'aman 1997b; 2003: 77-102). Be that as it may, the date in which the narratives about the Omride wars were originally composed must be discussed regardless of the date in which the stories were incorporated into the Deuteronomistic History. 27. Holscher 1923:184-6; Miller 1966; Schmitt 1972:133-6; Wurthwein 1984:269-72, 366-8, 509-10; Stipp 1987: 463-80 ; McKen/ie 1991: 88-99; Otto 2001: 197-220, 257-9; 2003:494—7,500-2.1 concur with the assumption that 1 Kgs 20 is a late post-Deuteronomistic work, as indicated by its language. See Rofe 2001: 94-7.

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At the start of the discussion, we note a number of features common to the story of the campaign of the three kings against Moab (2 Kgs 3) and the story about the death of Ahab in the battle of Ramoth-gilead (1 Kgs 22) (Schweizer 1974: 32-5; Stipp 1987: 67-71, 152-8; Weippert 1988: 466-9). (a) Both stories describe a campaign made up of three main parts: (1) A preliminary situation leading to a decision to wage war jointly; (2) Consultation with a prophet or prophets on the eve of the war; (3) A description of the battle and its outcome. (b) In both stories the king of Israel invites Jehoshaphat of Judah to go to war with him, and the latter responds in the same words ('I am as you are, my people as your people, my horses as your horses' - 1 Kgs 22.4; 2 Kgs 3.7). (c) In both stories the allies launch a campaign against an enemy kingdom to the east (Aram and Moab), with ill consequences for Israel. (d) In both stories Jehoshaphat is depicted in a favourable light, calling for a prophet (1 Kgs 22.5-7; 2 Kgs 3.11-12, 14). Moreover, the call t consult a prophet is worded almost identically in the two stories ('Is there not here another prophet of YHWH of whom we may enquire?' - 1 Kgs 22.7; 'Is there no prophet of YHWH here, through whom we may enquire of YHWH?' - 2 Kgs 3.11). I noted in the previous section that the author of the story in chapter 3 was familiar with the Elijah story cycle, including the ordination of Elisha as Elijah's heir and successor, and that he inserted it between the story cycles of the two prophets. Given the close association between the stories in 1 Kings 22 and 2 Kings 3, it may be proposed that the story about Ahab's death in the war against Aram and that of the campaign of the three kings against Moab were composed at the same time in Jerusalem, and that their author sought to present Jehoshaphat's part in the campaigns of the kings of Israel in a favourable light. This means that a late Judahite author, familiar with the Elijah and Elisha story cycles, composed a two-part narrative, involving Jehoshaphat and portraying him as a king who was faithful to YHWH, in contrast to Ahab and Joram, the sinful kings of Israel. It is also possible that the story of the campaign against Moab was originally attached to the end of the story in 1 Kings 22, with the opening verses about Mesha's rebellion coming directly after the description of Ahab's death in Ramoth-gilead. According to this supposition, the author of the Book of Kings divided the original story in two, and attached the first part to the end of Ahab's reign and the other to the early reign of his son, Joram. We must note, moreover, the closing formula of Jehoshaphat's history (1 Kgs 22.45): 'Now the rest of the acts of Jehoshaphat and his might that he showed and how he warred...' Similar formulae appear only in the closing verses about the two kings of Israel Joash and Jeroboam II (2 Kgs 13:12; 14.15, 28) whose wars and victories are detailed in the Book of Kings. What then lies behind the reference to Jehoshaphat's wars and might in his

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concluding verses? The Book of Kings mentions only two wars in which Jehoshaphat took part - the battle of Ramoth-gilead (1 Kings 22) and the campaign against Moab (2 Kings 3). It stands to reason that the author of the concluding verses (the Deuteronomist) knew about the two events, and had them in mind when writing about Jehoshaphat's war and might. This would lend strength to the assumption that the two compositions dated from a preDeuteronomistic stage, and it was the Deuteronomist who divided them and incorporated them in his comprehensive work. This conclusion runs counter to the view expressed by a number of scholars, that the two stories had not been part of the Deuteronomistic history, and were only incorporated in a later, post-Deuteronomistic stage (Na'aman 1997b, with earlier literature). Furthermore, it seems to me that the statement 'There was then no king in Edom; a deputy was king' (1 Kgs 22.47), suggests that the author of the Book of Kings had in mind the campaign of the three kings against Moab. Two ancient sources were available to him - the present story and a chronicle that described the Edomite rebellion against Jehoram, son of Jehoshaphat (2 Kgs 8.20-22). To reconcile the two sources, he contrived to square the circle - on the one hand, Edom is subject to Judah and ruled by a deputy, and on the other, it is ruled by a king, since 'a deputy was king' (see Na'aman 2004: 313-15). I have noted that the story about the campaign of the three kings against Moab was composed in Judah quite late, which accounts for the fact that various details in it are inconsistent with the period in question, including the following: (1) The association between Elisha and the campaign of the three kings rests on the author's familiarity with the story cycles of Elijah and Elisha. The author knew the stories about Elisha's ordination by Elijah and his later activities beside the king of Israel, and that the Elijah and Elisha story cycles dated to the reigns of Ahab and his son Joram. Knowing this, he incorporated Elisha's prophecy in the story of the campaign of Joram and Jehoshaphat, depicting Elisha as having but recently been ordained by Elijah, and before he became a central 'national' figure in the kingdom of Israel. The historical Elisha was active in the dynasty of Jehu, and it is very unlikely that he could have taken part in a campaign that Joram conducted against Moab after his father's death. (2) The king of Judah in the time of Joram, son of Ahab, was Jehoram, son of Jehoshaphat, who had been regent alongside his father Jehoshaphat and later became sole ruler (2 Kgs 3.1; 8.16). It seems that the author's limited knowledge about Joram's campaign against Moab did not include the identity of the king of Judah. Because Jehoshaphat suited the image of the king of Judah that he wished to represent better than Jehoram - who married Athaliah, the daughter of Omri/Ahab, and was depicted as a sinful king - the author chose to describe Jehoshaphat as the Judahite king who took part in the campaign. We must also keep in mind that the presumed original text included two wars - one against

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Aram in Ahab's reign, and the other against Moab in the reign of Ahab's son Joram, but Jehoshaphat, Ahab's contemporary, could fit only the first war. Incorporating Jehoshaphat in the descriptions of both wars had to do with the desired image of the king of Judah, and with the continuity of the two parts of the story. But it is unlikely that he did take part in the campaign. (3) Monarchy began in Edom only in the time of Joram, son of Jehoshaphat (2 Kgs 8.20-22), and subsequently Edom became an enemy of Israel (cf., 2 Kgs 14.7). The mention of the king of Edom as one of the allies in the reign of Joram, son of Ahab, is an anachronism that reflects the situation in the time of the late author. (4) The description of Aram as an enemy of Israel and a natural ally of Moab (2 Kgs 3.26) is inconsistent with the period of the Omrides, because at the time Israel and Aram were allied in the struggle against Assyria. This state of affairs changed only with the rise of Hazael to the throne of Aram, c. 843 BCE. The stories of the rivalry and conflict between Aram and Israel during the Omride dynasty, depicted in a series of prophetic stories (1 Kgs 22; 2 Kgs 4-8), rested on an erroneous recollection of the ancient realities (Na'aman 1999: 6-8). (5) In the present story, Kir-hareseth is described as Mesha's capital and fortress, though in reality Mesha's seat was Dibon and later Qarljoh, the new capital he founded near Dibon. Moreover, the story about the campaign of the three kings describes the region south of the Arnon as the heartland of Moab, in the centre of which stood the capital of Moab, Kir-hareseth. Mesha's inscription, however, suggests that at least part of the region south of the Arnon (the area of Horonaim) did not lie within his boundary, and was conquered at a later stage. These five anachronisms reflect the circumstances in the author's time. He lived in the kingdom of Judah in later times, long after the events he described, and knew little about the realities in the time of the Omrides. Even if he wished to describe the events with great accuracy, it is doubtful that he could have done so. Moreover, the genre of prophetic stories was not intended to provide an accurate picture of the past. The use of diverse literary elements in the narrative, and the filling of gaps to suit the author's purpose, are organic features of these stories. It appears that the author of the story about the campaign of the three kings based his work on a small historical kernel he had drawn from an available source. He built up his narrative around it, focused it on the prophecy of the man of God and its fulfilment, and used the story to depict the king of Judah in a favourable light, underlining the contrast between him and the king of Israel, his ally in the campaign against Moab. A few historical kernels may be gleaned in the story of the campaign of the three kings. (1) The author probably used the information found in his sources that Moab rebelled against Israel after Ahab's death (1 Kgs 1.1; 3.4-5).

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(2) The author could also have come across a story, told orally or in writing, about a campaign conducted by the kings of Israel against Moab, and the failure of the siege of Kir-hareseth, no doubt following the Moabite king's sacrifice of his first-born son during the siege, which frightened the attackers into retreating. This historical kernel accords neatly with the Omride dynasty, because at that time the kingdoms of Israel and Judah were allied, and doubtless cooperated in the military sphere too. The existence of that alliance is supported by the Aramaic inscription from Tel Dan, which indicates that Joram of Israel and Ahaziah of Judah fell in the battle against Hazael, king of Aram (Biran and Naveh 1993; 1995; Schniedewind 1996: 82-5; Lemaire 1998: 10-11; Na'aman 2000: 100^4, with earlier literature).28 In summary, it may be said that most of the details in the story of the campaign of the three kings sprang from the creative imagination of the author, who lived in Judah at a fairly late stage, possibly not long before the composition of the Deuteronomistic history. Only a few of the details reflect memories of the period in question - the rebellion of Mesha, who had previously been subjugated by Israel, the attempt to suppress the rebellion in the reign of Joram son of Ahab, and the failure of the campaign conducted together with the king of Judah.

3. A Critical Examination of the Biblical Description of the Early Relations between Israel and Moab

In the first part I discussed the possibilities and limitations of interpreting royal inscriptions, including that of Mesha, and pointed to the obvious ideological and propagandistic aims of that inscription. I also discussed the date of its composition - most probably the king's late reign, many years after the outbreak of the rebellion. The inscription's literary-ideological garb and propagandistic nature, while they do not exclude it as an historical source, oblige the scholar to treat it with great circumspection. The Mesha stele is the only extant detailed source written in Transjordan in the ninth century BCE. That is why it is important to the study of the relations between the kingdom of Israel and Moab in the early first millennium BCE, when the two kingdoms fought for control of the Plain (~iwa) between the Arnon river and Wadi Kefrein. In contrast to the Mesha inscription, composed late in that king's reign, the biblical descriptions of the relations between Israel and Moab, including the story about the campaign of the three kings against Moab, were written 28. The description of the journey through the wilderness of Edom is not necessarily based on an early source. The crossing of northern Edom is probably a logical inference of the narrator from the assumption that Kir-hareseth, which may be located in el-Kerak, was Mesha's capital and came under siege at that time.

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hundreds of years after the events they describe, and with strong ideologicaltheological motivation. In many cases it is doubtful if the late authors had any early sources on which to base their reconstruction of the ancient reality, or if they composed their works without any solid information about the period in question. That is the background of the many questions raised by scholars about the value of these descriptions for the reconstruction of ancient reality, and the reason why many of the new scholars tend to leave them out of the discussion about the ancient periods in question. These scholars prefer to interpret the stories about the relations of Moab and Israel in the pre-monarchical and early-monarchical periods in relation to the time of their composition, i.e., the late-monarchical period and after. To start with, it should be noted that the array of kingdoms in the country on both sides of the Jordan, familiar to us from the Bible and external documents, arose mainly in the beginning of the first millennium BCE, and stabilized in the course of the ninth century BCE.29 The biblical depictions of full-fledged Trans Jordanian kingdoms (Ammon, Moab and Edom) during the wanderings of the Israelites are of course quite unfounded, merely a backward projection of the situation in the time of their late authors. The same goes for the descriptions of the Israelites' conquests in Trans Jordan and of the Transjordanian inheritances of Israelite tribes. The author of the conquest stories in the Book of Numbers incorporated extensive regions, which lay in the kingdoms of Aram-Damascus, Ammon, Moab and Edom, in the territory he described as conquered by the Israelites (Num. 21.21-35; see also Deut. 2-3). Likewise, the author who described the tribal allotments in the Book of Joshua outlined artificial, a-historical boundaries. He deliberately included in the inheritances of the Transjordanian tribes (Reuben, Gad and the half-tribe of Manasseh) extensive regions which were in fact parts of the kingdoms that existed in his time (Josh. 12.1-6; 13.8-32). He described the Arnon as Moab's boundary, and included the kingdom's territory north of the river in the allotment of Reuben; the territory of Ammon was reduced, with the boundary of the tribe of Gad set not far from its capital, Rabbah; the territory of Aram-Damascus was also reduced, with some of its districts included in the allotment of the half-tribe of Manasseh. This spurious boundary system is often referred to in a formulaic expression, in which the Arnon river is the southern and Mount Hermon the northern boundary (Deut. 3.8; 4.48; Josh. 12.1). The Arnon river is mentioned as Israel's border in a number of other references (Num. 21.13, 24, 26; Deut. 2.24, 36; 3.12; Josh. 12.2; 13.9, 16; Judg. 11.13, 18, 22, 26). The descriptions of the Israelite conquest and settlement were clearly intended to enlarge as much as possible the territory of the Israelite tribes, who were described as settling in all parts of the country,

29. For the date of the establishment of states in Transjordan, see e.g., Dornemann 1983; Bartlett 1989; Timm 1989; Worschech 1990; Miller 1991; Bienkowski 1992; Hiibner 1992; Finkelstein 1995; LaBianca and Younker 1995; Edelman 1995; Macdonald and Younker 1999.

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and reduce to a minimum the territories of the kingdoms they supposedly adjoined. Needless to say, these descriptions bear no resemblance to early Israelite history. The cities named in these descriptions reflect the situation at the time of writing, most probably towards the end of the First Temple period and after, and can serve to reconstruct the array of settlements in Transjordan on the eve of the Babylonian conquest, in the beginning of the sixth century BCE. In contrast to the descriptions of Israelite conquest and settlement, the story of Ehud (Judg. 3.12-30) contains an anachronism that reflects the situation on the border of Moab in the author's time. In the story, Moab had formed an alliance with Ammon and Amalek, which defeated Israel and occupied Jericho ('the city of palm trees'). Consequently, Eglon, the king of Moab, resided in the conquered city and received tribute and gifts from the Israelites. Since in the author's time the Moabites inhabited the plains of Moab, east of Jericho, he envisioned an attack from the east, in the course of which the Moabites beat their enemies and seized Jericho (compare 2 Kgs 13.20-21). The story of Ehud reflects the political and territorial situation at the time of writing, very likely in the eighth-seventh centuries BCE, when Jericho was on the border of Moab, divided by the Jordan river. Clearly this story cannot be used to reconstruct the situation as it was hundreds of years previously, before the rise of the kingdoms of Israel and Moab and the consolidation of their respective national identities (see below). A similar anachronism appears in the story of Balaam (Numbers 22-24). In the biblical account, the Israelites conquered the country of Sihon, king of the Amorites, 'from Arnon unto Jabbok' (Num. 21.21-25), avoiding the territory of Moab south of the Arnon. It would seem that Balaam would have to take a position near the Arnon, on the border between Moab and Israel, from which to curse the Israelites (Num. 22.41; 23.14, 28). In fact, the three sites where Balak built the altars ['the high places of Baal'], ['the top of Pisgah'], and ['the top of Peor that overlooks the desert']) lay near the Israel-Moab border in the eighth-seventh centuries BCE - evidently the boundary system of the author's time.30 Thus Balaam is shown as gazing upon Israel's historical boundary from those sites and blessing instead of cursing Israel (cf. Deut. 32.49). The description of David's battles against Moab (2 Sam. 8.2) - 'And he defeated Moab and measured them with a line, making them lie down on the ground, two lines he measured to be put to death, and one full line to be spared. And the Moabites became servants to David and brought tribute'. Many scholars have recently discussed the immense difficulties of using the story cycles of David and Solomon for historical reconstruction, and I shall not deal with them here. There is a clear correspondence between the array of kingdoms in the Syro-Palestinian region during the ninth-eighth centuries BCE and the kingdoms that David is described as warring against, leading to 30. For the identification of the three sites, see Mittmann 1995: 11, 22-23 and the map on p. 2.

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the impression that his wars and conquests broadly reflect the late reality (see recently Na'aman 2002, with earlier literature). Moreover, the kingdom of Israel in David's time was still in the early stages of formation and consolidation, and it is difficult to imagine that he could wage all those wars and conquer all the territories ascribed to him in biblical historiography. It is therefore imprudent to use the David story cycle to reconstruct the situation in the early days of the Israelite monarchy. It is doubtful that a consolidated Moabite kingdom already existed in the period conventionally assumed to be that of David's monarchy (the first half of the tenth century BCE). It must be remembered that Moab dwelled in a sparsely populated frontier region, and it is unlikely that the institution of monarchy took shape there before it arose and became consolidated in regions west of the Jordan. It is more likely that the territory of Moab was then divided among several city-states, each of which ruled by a local leader, in a territorial-tribal system. It is therefore doubtful that David conquered Moab and made it into a subject kingdom ('the Moabites became David's servants and brought gifts'). The description of the Moabite kingdom must have been drawn from the late situation, when Moab had become a consolidated kingdom, in the latter half of the ninth century BCE. What might have been the background of the descriptions of the extreme cruelties attributed to David in the above-quoted verse (2 Sam. 8.2)? The question concerns the source used by the author of the stories of David's wars against Israel's neighbours. It seems to me that the description in 2 Samuel 8 rests on an underlying, relatively early, chronicle, possibly from the eighth century BCE, which contained episodes about Israel's early kings. It is possible that the chronicle was composed not long after the Moabite conquest of the Plain, in the course of which the Israelite population in those territories was massacred, and the events were still engraved in the historical memory. It may be that the description of David's cruel treatment of the Moabites was a kind of 'poetical justice', to compensate for the Moabites' slaughter of Israelites, and expressed the still-pervasive desire to wreak vengeance on the Moabites for what they had done in their wars with Israel (Na'aman 2002: 212-13). Later the narrative of David's reign describes the census he held in his kingdom (2. Sam 24.1-9). It began in the area of the Arnon river (v. 5: 'They crossed the Jordan, and began from Aroer, and from the city that is in the middle of the river'), continued north and reached 'the land of 'Bnn DTinn', which may be a corruption of the original version 'to the land under Hermon (Tiain nnn)' (Skehan 1969). It too reflects the idea of greatly enlarging the boundaries of the tribes of Israel at the expense of the territories of Israel's neighbours. In summary, it seems to me that all the sources which describe the contacts between Moab and Israel in the pre-monarchical and early monarchical periods do not reflect the realities of the time described. These sources inform us about the realities of the period in which they were written, the aims that guided their authors and their religious-ideological world - but they cannot be relied on for the reconstruction of early Israelite history.

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The Mesha inscription is a convenient point of departure for a discussion on the history of southern Transjordan in the early first millennium BCE. It reveals that Omri, king of Israel, conquered the Moabite lands north of the Arnon and subjugated them. It appears that previously, Moab's territory was divided among rival dynasties. Elsewhere I proposed that Sihon, king of Heshbon - mentioned in the biblical tradition as the ruler from whom the Israelites captured the region north of the Arnon river - ruled contemporaneously with Omri in Israel, and his defeat was the first stage in Omri's conquest of the Plain south of Heshbon (Na'aman 1997: 90-91, with earlier literature). The analysis of the Mesha inscription reveals, too, that at least part of the region south of the Arnon was also captured by Mesha at some later stage in his reign. The geographical extent of the kingdom of Moab under Mesha's predecessors is not known, nor do we know if they ruled only over the area between the Arnon river and Wadi el-Wale, or over the entire plain between the Arnon and Medeba. It seems that Omri exploited the divisions in southern Transjordan to seize and subjugate all the Plain north of the Arnon. It is not known, either, if Omri annexed some of the occupied territory to his kingdom and made their inhabitants Israelites.31 It should be kept in mind that in that early period, a few generations after the rise of monarchies in Israel and its neighbours, the inhabitants' association with the various kingdoms was still very fluid, and only later, when the kingdoms and their boundaries had become consolidated, did this association grow firm and unmistakable. This accounts for the difficulty in determining the border between Israel and Moab, or which part belonged to the kingdom of Israel and which to Moab. This may be illustrated by the following question: What was the status of Medeba, Ataroth and Jahaz, the three cities Mesha claims to have captured and which, in his account, had belonged to Moab before their occupation by Israel? Had they, and their surrounding areas, been annexed to the kingdom of Israel - or were they isolated outposts of Israel in a territory that was, politically and culturally, mainly associated with the Moabite regions to their south?32

31. Lemaire (1991: 151) has suggested that Omri annexed the land of Medeba to the tribal territory of Gad whose centre was in the city of Ataroth. 32. Noth (1944: 42-6) suggested that the Israelite control of the territory between Wadi el-Wale and Heshbon was weak and that the annexed towns kept close political and cultural ties with the kingdom of Moab. Only Ataroth and Nebo are mentioned as Israelite towns and hence the ban imposed on them. The other places remained Moabite and their support helped Mesha to conquer the territory. However, Noth's analysis rests on the assumption that the Israelite and Moabite monarchies had been established long before Omri's conquest and that the two kingdoms' political-cultural self-identities had crystallized in this early period, an assumption that cannot be upheld any more.

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The assumption that Israel's rule was based on a number of fortified cities in strategic locations may be supported by an analogy to the way Assyria ruled the regions of Habur and the Middle Euphrates in the eleventh-ninth centuries BCE. Liverani (1988; 1992; see Kiihne 1995: 72-6) has shown that, even in times of crisis, Assyria did not lose control of those regions, but held on to various centres in them, and the kings of Assyria launched campaigns to keep the routes between these centres open and to collect taxes from the settlements along the main roads. Similarly, Egypt's rule in Canaan in the Late Bronze Age rested on a number of government centres the Egyptians had set up in the conquered territory, in which they installed officials and armed forces to dominate their vassals in the region (Helck 1971: 246-55; Na'aman 1981; Hachmann 1982; Redford 1990: 27-36). It is therefore probable that Omri and Ahab also established power centres, occupied by officials and armed men, to rule over the conquered territory. If that was the case, then the fall of those three centres of power, in the west (Ataroth), centre (Medeba) and east (Jahaz) of the conquered territory, led to the collapse of Israel's military disposition in the region, and all the surrounding areas passed without resistance into Moabite hands. But the supposition remains uncertain, because the whole region has not yet been archaeologically investigated. If future exploration reveals that many cities were destroyed in that period, we would have to assume that the territory became 'Israelite' following Omri's conquest, and that after its conquest by Mesha the Israelite population was uprooted and replaced by Moabites. If, on the other hand, it is found that most of the settlements persisted and were not destroyed, we would have to assume that the Plain up to and north of Medeba remained mainly 'Moabite', and that the three cities named were the centres of power and administration in the conquered territory. According to the Book of Kings, Mesha rebelled after Ahab was killed in the battle of Ramoth-gilead, and Joram, son of Ahab, set out to suppress the rebellion. Scholars are divided on the historicity of the story about Ahab's death. Many concluded that Ahab actually died peacefully in his bed, as implied by 1 Kgs 22.40 - 'And Ahab slept with his fathers'. They assumed that the description of Ahab's death in chapter 22 was added to the Book of Kings at a later, post-deuteronomistic stage, and lacked historical foundation (e.g., Steuernagel 1912: 348-9, 362-3; Miller 1966: 449-51; Van Seters 1983: 305-6; Wurthwein 1984: 205, 496-8; McKenzie 1991: 90-8; Otto 2001: 124-9, 151-2, with earlier literature). I have contested this assumption and tried to show that the story in chapter 22 is possibly pre-Deuteronomistic, and might have preserved a memory of Ahab's death on the battlefield (Na'aman 1997b: 162-71). Moreover, it seems to me that the author of the Book of Kings attributed a peaceful death ('slept with his fathers') to each ruler about whom his sources did not relate an unnatural death. Thus, even assuming that the story in chapter 22 was inserted in a post-deuteronomistic stage and was unknown to the author of Kings, it is still possible to suggest that Ahab was killed in battle. Unfortunately, this assumption may be neither proved nor disproved, in the absence of other sources on the subject.

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But whatever the circumstances of Ahab's passing, his death and the unexpected death of his son Ahaziah soon after, could well have been perceived in Moab as indications of Israel's weakness, and as an opportunity to shake off its domination. Since at least part of Israel's armed force must have been pinned down by the wars against Assyria in the kingdom of Hamath, in central Syria, it could not help to suppress the revolt. I am therefore inclined to accept the biblical statement that the rebellion broke out soon after Ahab's death, and date its onset to the time after Ahab's and Ahaziah's passing. When the rebellion broke out, Joram set out to suppress it. The campaign probably advanced from the south, perhaps intending to surprise Moab, and was led by the kings of Israel and Judah. The first stages of the campaign must have been successful, but Joram failed to achieve his main goal of resubjugating Moab and forcing it to resume paying tribute, and had to retreat to his kingdom. It should be recalled that Mesha's inscription was written many years after the campaign, during which time Israel was defeated and subjugated by Aram, while Moab expanded its territory in the north, so it is not surprising that the inscription does not mention the campaign. As an episode it had been neither decisive nor a turning-point in the balance of power, and only the interest of a late Judahite author in the campaigns of the kings of Israel and Judah led to its being recorded in writing and remaining extant. Many of the details in the prophetic story do not accord with the situation in the period described, but point to the story's late composition and to the literary-legendary character of the narrative, which did not demand accurate details. The turning-point in the relations of Moab and Israel occurred under the Jehu dynasty, after Hazael defeated the kingdom of Israel, destroyed her power and subjugated her (2 Kgs 10.32-33). According to this description, Hazael defeated Israel 'throughout the territory of Israel: from Jordan eastward, all the land of Gilead, the Gadites, and the Reubenites, and the Manassites, from Aroer, which is by the river Arnon, that is, Gilead and Bashan'. Some scholars have suggested that verse 33 was inserted at a later date, while others held that only one part of it was inserted late, and the rest was written by the author of the Book of Kings.33 It seems to me that the original text included the first part of verse 33 ('from Jordan eastward, all the land of Gilead'), and the latter part was added by a late editor influenced by the tradition of the conquest and settlement (the same Wiirthwein 1984: 343). The original tex gives a correct picture of Hazael's conquests in Transjordan, from Gilead to the plain, but the editorial addition corrupted it, making it appear that Hazael captured all of Transjordan as far as the Arnon river, including areas that were in fact conquered by Mesha in his war with Israel.

33. For scholars' discussions of verse 33, see Stade 1885: 279; Sanda 1912: 119-20; Montgomery 1951: 412; Gray 1970: 564-5; Wiirthwein 1984: 412; Cogan and Tadmor 1988: 117. For the possible source of verse 32, see Ben Zvi 1990: 100-5.

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The Masoretic text's demarcation of Hazael's conquests in Trans Jordan corresponds to the boundary of David's census east of the Jordan (2 Sam. 24.5-6), and both correspond to the demarcation of the Israelites' tribal allotments on that side (see above). According to the Masoretic text, Hazael conquered the entire territory that Israel had held since David's time and had now lost. This suggests a fixed concept in the biblical historiography, that the Arnon marked the boundary of Moab, while the land north of it was held by Israel. This picture is entirely at odds with the historical borders that existed in the region during the First Temple period. Mesha took advantage of Israel's weakness under Jehu to spread north and capture the Israelite centre of power inside Moab's territory, and even further territories to their north. The element of surprise facilitated some of these conquests (Ataroth and Nebo), and it is possible that the standing army in Jahaz, the centre of Israelite power in the eastern plain, had withdrawn, and that Mesha's army entered the city after its was abandoned ('Now the king of Israel had built Jahaz, and he dwelt therein while he was fighting against me. But Chemosh drove him out before me.' - Line 18 in Mesha's inscription). Jahaz must be sought on the eastern front of Moab; its location is disputed among scholars.34 The loss of Nebo to Mesha was a heavy blow to Israel. There was a temple in the city that must have been associated with the figure of Moses, and served as a major administrative and cultic centre in the region. The destruction of the city meant that the kingdom of Israel lost its most important outpost in the north-west of the plain, and Mesha could now annex the area and expand the boundary of Moab as far as the north end of the Dead Sea and perhaps beyond. Lines 27-28 of Mesha's inscription declare: 'I built Beth-bamoth, for it has been destroyed, and I built Bezer, for it was in ruins'. It seems to me that the two places were built to complement the capture of Nebo and Medeba. Bethbamoth is probably identifiable as the biblical Bamoth-baal (Num. 22.41, Josh. 13.17), and the sequence in the Balaam story suggests that it was located at Khirbet Quwejiyeh, south of Nebo (Khirbet al-Muljayif) (Mittmann 1995: 11, 22-3). It seems that Mesha built a settlement whose name implies that it was a cultic site, to replace the nearby Nebo, which had been devastated. Bezer may be identified with Tell Jalul, east of Medeba (Dearman 1989b: 186; 1989c: 55-61). Mesha's construction projects along his northern frontier (Beth-bamoth, Medeba and Bezer), were intended to stabilize his border and ensure firmer control of the areas he had conquered before. In his later years Mesha led a campaign south of the Arnon, a region that had not previously been Moabite, captured Horonaim and annexed it to his

34. For the identifications of Jahaz, see e.g., Glueck 1939: 116-17; Bernhardt 1960: 155-8; de Vaux 1967:119-20; Dearman 1984; 1989b: 181-4; Smelik 1992:74-9; Mittmann 1995: 11-14. For the new excavations conducted at Khirbet al-Mudayna (which Dearman identified with Jahaz), see Daviau and Steiner 2000; Daviau and Dion 2002.

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territory. Unfortunately, we have no certain knowledge where the city stood, and cannot determine the extent of his expansion in that area (see note 13). Since Mesha does not describe all the building projects in the southern part of his kingdom we cannot tell what this region meant to Mesha's kingdom and to what extent his rule over it was effective. Mesha initiated a number of building projects in order to consolidate his kingdom. To start with, he built a new government centre in his city of Dibon and named it Qarrioh. He fortified it with an inner wall and an external one , which was also surrounded by a moat (Drroan). Inside he erected a palace and dug a water reservoir against possible siege . In his last years he built in Qarljoh a temple for the god Chemosh , and it was to mark its inauguration that he wrote his inscription and erected it nearby. This phenomenon of building a new capital in a kingdom which has grown and taken on a new life, is known from the reigns of Assurnasirpal II (883-859 BCE) and Omri of Israel. Assurnasirpal built the city of Calah, which had been desolate for many years, and made it his capital. The details of its construction are known from the many inscriptions marking its inauguration, especially the feast inscription, found in the throne room in his palace (Wiseman 1952; Grayson 1991: 288-93). His successors continued to embellish the city and enlarge it, and Calah remained the Assyrian capital for some 170 years, until the reign of Sargon II (721-705 BCE). Omri built a new capital in Samaria, and his successors developed and enlarged it. It served as the capital of the kingdom of Israel, and then of the provinces that inherited it - Assyrian, Babylonian and Persian. Building a new capital after military triumphs and the expansion of the realm had to do with the quantity of war spoils, the need for new administrative and storage premises required by the increase of the administrative and economic systems, and higher status of the ruler and his court, both in the kingdom and in the eyes of the neighbouring monarchs. Mesha's military victories and the consolidation of his kingdom led him to launch an impressive construction project close to his birthplace, emulating the endeavours of other rulers who grew powerful in the Syrian-Palestinian expanse. Although the site at Dibon (Dhiban) was intensively excavated during four seasons (1950-55), so far no building that may be attributed to Mesha has been unearthed (Tushingham 1993, with earlier literature). Tushingham (1990; Tushingham and Pedrette 1995) discussed this problem, and suggested that the great fill found in the mound's southern part, the area where the Mesha's stele was found, is the sole vestige to be found of Mesha's construction; all the other ancient remains were destroyed by subsequent extensive construction works in that area (Tushingham 1990; 1993; 1995). On the basis of archaeology alone, scholars would have never suggested that an extensive building activity took place on the site in the ninth century BCE. This is the more remarkable since Mesha's building operations are described in so many details in his inscription. It illustrates the limitations of archaeological investigation seeking to uncover the original remains of

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multi-layered sites where late extensive construction works might obliterate the remains of earlier strata (for the case of the city of Jerusalem, see Na'aman 1996: 18-21). Apart from building a new capital, Mesha endeavoured to renovate the territories he had conquered and to incorporate them in his kingdom. He rebuilt desolate cities on his northern border (Bezer and Beth-bamoth), built new cities near Dibon (Aroer) and Medeba (Baal-meon and Kiriathaim), populated Ataroth with people from his southern regions (Sharon and Maharit), and improved the route connecting Dibon with the region south of the Arnon. He probably also organized the administration in the conquered regions, and appointed officials in the cities of his realm (lines 28-29: 'I put in contro[l? officers? ov]er? the hundreds in the towns which I had annexed to the country'). In discussing the messages conveyed by the inscription, I noted the prominent place given to the god Chemosh. It seems to me that Chemosh began as the deity of Dibon, and became Moab's national deity following Mesha's victories and the expansion of the kingdom. The construction of a Chemosh temple in Qarljoh, the new royal suburb built near Dibon, and the inscription's emphasis on the god's standing, reflect the royal propaganda that exalted him to the status of a national Moabite deity. Moreover, Mesha mentions in lines 29-31 that he had built temples in three cities (Medeba, Diblathaim and Baal-meon; for a suggested location, see Dearman 1989b: 174-6, 187), and supplied them with cultic objects and sacrificial animals. It seems to me that these actions were designed to bolster the standing of Chemosh, Dibon's city deity, in the newly conquered territories. That is why I have suggested to restore line 33 as follows: 'And Chemosh [dwelt] there in my days'. The 'seat' of Chemosh in Horonaim indicates that a temple to him was built in that city, and the tithe allotted to him (if the reconstruction of line 33 is correct) was intended to provide an income to the new temple and its priests (cf., Gen. 28.22). In summary, we may conclude that Mesha was the ruler who created the kingdom of Moab as it is known from the Bible and later documentary sources (mainly Assyrian royal inscriptions). Previously Moab had consisted of a number of city-states which struggled for supremacy, and it was their weakness that enabled Omri to conquer Moab and make it into a vassal state. Mesha shook off the Israelite domination, seized territories on its northern border, and merged the Moabite city-states into a consolidated kingdom, subject to the ruler in Dibon. Mesha therefore played a decisive role in the history of Moab, and may be regarded as the founder of the Moabite kingdom, which lasted through the period of the First Temple (for Mesha as founder of the united Moabite kingdom, see Routledge 2000). However, Moab's northern border did not become permanent in Mesha's reign, and it seems that either he or his successor launched further campaigns northwards, and enlarged the kingdom's boundary as far as Wadi Kefrein. This is borne out by the prophecies of Isaiah and Jeremiah, which list Moabite cities north of the areas that Mesha's inscription describes as conquered

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by him. The principal cities conquered were Heshbon and Jazer, as well as Elealeh, Sibmah and Mephaath (Isaiah 15-16; Jeremiah 48).35 It is likely that these cities were captured in the reign of Jehoahaz, son of Jehu, when the kingdom of Israel was at its nadir. Remarkably, these cities remained Moabite even when Israel recovered its strength in the reigns of Joash son of Jehoahaz and Jeroboam II. It is not known if these kings attempted to capture the cities that had been lost to Israel, but failed and withdrew, or if they renounced the hope of recapturing them and resigned themselves to their being Moabite. The northern boundary between Moab and Israel became fixed near Wadi Kefrein, and the western boundary on the Jordan, opposite Jericho. Following the Assyrian conquest in the reign of Tiglath-pileser III (733-732 BCE), Israel's territories in Transjordan passed into Assyrian hands and were administered as part of an Assyrian province (Na'aman 1995). But Moab's northern border, near Wadi Kefrein, was unchanged, and probably remained so until the fall of the kingdom of Moab in the beginning of the sixth century BCE.

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'Der Feldzug der drei Konige'. In: Bernhardt, K.-H. ed. Schalom: Studien zu Glaube und Geschichte Israels. Alfred Jepsen zum 70. Geburtstag. Stuttgart, 11-22. Bienkowski, P. (ed.). 1992 Early Edom and Moab. The Beginning of the Iron Age in Southern Jordan (Sheffield Archaeological Monographs 7). Sheffield. Biran, A. and Naveh, J. 1993 'An Aramaic Stele Fragment from Tel Dan'. IEJ 43: 81-98. 1995 'The Tel Dan Inscription: A New Fragment'. IEJ 45: 1-18. Bordreuil, P. 2001 'A propos de 1'inscription de Mesha' deux notes'. In: Daviau, P. M. M., Wevers, J. W. and Weigl, M. eds. The World of the Aramaeans HI. Studies in Language and Literature in Honour of Paul-Eugene Dion (JSOTS 326). Sheffield: 158-67. Burns, J. B. 1990 Why did the Besieging Army Withdraw? (II Reg 3,27)'. ZAW 102: 18793. Clermont-Ganneau, M. 1875 'La stele de Mesa - observations et lectures nouvelles'. Revue Critique 2: 166-74. 1887 La stele de Mesa - examen critique du texte. Journal Asiatique 9: 72-112. Cogan, M. and Tadmor, H. 1988 II Kings. A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. (The Anchor Bible). Garden City. Cooke, G. A. 1903 A Text-Book of North-Semitic Inscriptions. Oxford. Daviau, P. M. M. and Steiner, M. 2000 'A Moabite Sanctuary at Khirbet al-Mudayna'. BASOR 320: 1-21. Daviau, P. M. M. and Dion, P. E. 2002 'Economy-Related Finds from Khirbet al Mudayna (Wadi ath-Thamad, Jordan)'. BASOR 328: 31-48. Davis, J. D. 1891 'The Moabite Stone and the Hebrew Records'. Hebraica 7: 178-82. De Odorico, M. 1995 The Use of Numbers and Quantifications in the Assyrian Royal Inscriptions. (State Archives of Assyria Studies 3). Helsinki. Dearman, J. A. 1984 The Location of Jahaz. ZDPV 100: 122-5. 1989a ed. Studies in the Mesha Inscription and Moab. Atlanta. 1989b 'Historical Reconstruction and the Mesha Inscription'. In: Dearman 1989a: 155-210. 1989c 'The Levitical Cities of Reuben and Moabite Toponymy'. BASOR 216: 55-66. 1992 'Horonaim'. The Anchor Bible Dictionary, IE. New York, 289. Dormer, H. and Rollig, W. 1966-9 Kanaanaische und aramaische Inschriften 1-3. (2nd revised edition). Wiesbaden. Dornemann, R. H. 1983 The Archaeology of the Transjordan in the Bronze and Iron Ages. Milwaukee. Drinkard, J. F. 1989 'The Literary Genre of the Mesha Inscription'. In: Dearman 1989a: 131-51.

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Schorn, U. 1997

Ruben und das System der zwolf Stdmme Israels. Redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zur Bedeutung des Erstgeborenen Jakobs (BZAW 248). Berlin and New York.

Schottroff, W. 1966 'Horonaim, Nimrim, Luhith und der Westrand des "Landes Ataroth"'. ZDPV 82: 163-208. Schweizer, H. 1974 Elischa in den Kriegen: Literaturwissenschaftliche Untersuchung von 2 Ron 3; 6,8-23; 6,24-7,20. (Studien zum Alten und Neuen Testament 37). Munich. Skehan, P. W. 1969 'Joab's Census: How Far North (2 Sam. 24:6)?' CBQ 31: 42-9. Smelik, K. A. D. 1990 'The Literary Structure of King Mesha's Inscription'. /SOT 46: 21-30. 1992 'King Mesha's Inscription: Between History and Fiction'. In: Converting the Past. Studies in Ancient Israelite and Moabite Historiography (Oudtestamentische Studien 28). Leiden: 59-92. Smend, R. and Socin, A. 1886 Die Inschrift des Konigs Mesa von Moab. Freiburg. Stade, B. 1885 'Anmerkungen zu 2 K6 10-14'. ZAW 5: 275-97. Stern, P. D. 1993 'Of Kings and Moabites: History and Theology in 2 Kings 3 and Mesha Inscription'. HUCA 64: 1-14. Steuernagel, C. 1912 Lehrbuch der Einleitung in das Alte Testament mit einent Anhang iiber die Apokryphen und Pseudepigraphen. Tubingen. Stipp, H.-J. 1987 Elischa - Propheten - Gottesmdnner: Die Kompositionsgeschichte des Elischazyklus und verwandter Texte, rekonstruiert auf der Basis von Textund Literarkritik zu 1 Kon 20.22 und 2 Kon 2-7. (Arbeiten zu Text und Sprache im Alten Testament 24). St Ottilien. Tidwell, N. L. 1995 'No Highway! The Outline of a Semantic Description of Mesilla'. VT 45: 251-69. 1996 'Mesha's hmslt b'rnn: What and Where?' VT 46: 490-7. Timm, S. 1982 Die Dynastic Omri. Quellen und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte Israels im 9. Jahrhundert vor Christus. (FRLANT 124). Gottingen. 1989 Moab zwischen den Machten. Studien zu historischen Denkmdlern und Texten. (Agypten und Altes Testament 17). Wiesbaden. Tropper, J. 1993 Die Inschriften von Zincirli. Neue Edition und vergleichende Grammatik des phjnizischen, sam'alitischen und aramaischen Textkorpus. Munster. 2001 'Der Gottesname *Yahu>a'. VT 51: 81-106. Tushingham, A. D. 1990 'Dhiban Reconsidered: King Mesha and his Work'. Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan 34: 183-92. 1993 'Dibon'. In: Stern, E. ed. The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land 1. Jerusalem: 350-52. Tushingham, A. D. and Pedrette, P. H.

NA'AMAN Royal Inscription versus Prophetic Story 1995 Van Seters, J. 1983 de Vaux, R. 1958 1967

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'Mesha's Citadel Complex (Qarhoh) at Dhiban'. In: Hadidi, A. ed. Studies in the History and Archaeology of Jordan V. Amman: 151-9. In Search of History. Historiography in the Ancient World and the Origins of Biblical History. New Haven and London. Les Livres des Rois (Sainte Bible). Paris. 'Notes d'histoire et topographic transjordaniennes'. In: de Vaux, R. Bible et Orient. Paris: 115-49.

Vyhmeister, W. 1968 'The History of Heshbon from Literary Sources'. Andrew University Seminar Studies 6: 158-77. Wallis, G. 1965 'Die Vierzig Jahre der achten Zeile der Mesa-Inschrift'. ZDPV 81: 180-6. Weippert, H. 1988 'Ahab el campeador? Redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zu 1 Kon 22'. Biblica 69: 457-79. Weippert, M. 1964 'Archaologischer Jahresbericht'. ZDPV 80: 150-93. 1998 'Ar und Kir in Jesaja 15,1. Mit Erwagungen zur historischen Geographic Moabs'. ZAW 110: 547-55. Wiseman, D. J. 1952 'A New Stela of Assur-nasir-paP. Iraq 14: 24-44. Worschech, U. 1990 Die Beziehungen Moabs zu Israel und Agypten in der Eisenzeit. Siedlungsarchaologische und siedlungshistorische Untersuchungen im Kernland Moabs (Ard el-Kerak). Wiesbaden. Worschech, U. and Knauf, E.A. 1986 'Dimon und Horonaim'. BN 31: 70-95. Wiirthwein, E. 1984 Die Biicher der Konige. 1. Kon. 17-2. Kon. 25. (AID 11/2). Gottingen. Wiist, M. 1975 Untersuchungen zu den siedlungsgeographischen Texten des Alten Testament, I. Ostjordanland. Wiesbaden, van Zyl, A. H. 1960 The Moabites (Pretoria Oriental Series). Leiden.

ROYAL SAMARIA - CAPITAL OR RESIDENCE? OR:

THE FOUNDATION OF THE CITY OF SAMARIA BY SARGON II1 Hermann Michael Niemann According to 2 Kgs 17.1-6; 18.9-12, Hoshea withheld the tribute due to Shalmaneser V and made contacts with Egypt. Hoshea was therefore arrested and imprisoned in an unknown place. Later, an unspecified Assyrian king took the city after a three-year siege. The texts leave many questions open, in particular about the events that took place between Hoshea's capture and the final surrender of the city.2 Hoshea seems to have been arrested without resistance, and yet the city without its ruler was able to resist the mighty Assyrian forces for several years. Historically this is odd; the resistance should have stopped as soon as the king was taken. Kathleen M. Kenyon considered that the archaeological record matches the text: the Samaria Acropolis was the centre of a strong capital and this capital was the centre of the powerful State of Israel; the Assyrians stormed Israel's capital and completely destroyed it.3 1. The Problem My study of the power structures of Israel and Judah (Niemann 1993a) leads me to doubt the sudden rise two and a half generations after Saul of the powerful 'Empire' of Solomon, which the Bible sets during the tenth century BCE. The 'union' between Judah, Jerusalem and Israel was always loose and temporary, never developing into a complete political integration. David was a traditional tribal leader and the founder of the greater Judaean entity, while Solomon was a Canaanite city lord who managed to control David's tribal entity. Both were unable to develop political structures strong enough to quench the ambitions of the northern tribes. The Ephraimite Jeroboam was soon able to re-establish the 1. Dedicated to Axel Knauf, friend and colleague, after 25 years of good fellowship - looking for the next period of 25! 2. Cf. Na'aman 1990; Hayes and Kuan 1991; Becking 1992; Fuchs 1994: 457-8; Kuan 1995; Forsberg 1995; Younger 1999; Tappy 2001. 3. Kenyon in Forsberg 1995: 28-9; Tappy 2001: 222-3, 352-3.

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hegemony of the northern tribes over their own territories. In part Jeroboam was a genuine heir of Saul's Benjaminite-Israelite kingdom (Niemann 1997: 267-8, 274 n. 57) but partly he starts a new development. The so-called Northern Kingdom began with Jeroboam I as resistance against Jerusalem's northern ambitions. Jeroboam's various residences (1 Kgs 12.25) allowed him to tap into trade opportunities offered by geographical configurations as much as dealing with tribal elites. Shechem is a traditional meeting point (without a city in the tenth century?) between the coast and the Jordan valley sitting on the EphraimManasseh border. Penuel straddles the Kings' Highway (Damascus-Arabah) where it branches off towards Shechem. Tirzah is oriented towards Issachar and the Beth Shean valley (1 Kgs 14.17) as well as to the East (Transjordan). Jeroboam consolidates the tradition of mountain rulers (Lab'ayu; Gideon; Abimelek; Saul; David; Dhahir b. Umar (Cohen 1973)). Israelite rule always rested upon local and regional elites (sometimes with international backing).4 Never in 200 years did Israel manage to fuse its various tribal and cultural elements into a meaningful unity: its borders were too open to international traffic and to the influence of powerful neighbours. On the contrary, the tribe of Judah remained more homogeneous and distinct from Jerusalem for 360 years (cf. Jer 4.3,4, 5,15; 7.34; 9.11; 11.2, 6, 9,11,13; 13.9; 17.25,26; 18.11; 19.3; 25.2 etc.). Israel developed state structures under the reigns of Omri and Ahab while in Judah this evolution does not start before Uzziah (Niemann 1993a). In Israel, this development was periodically hampered by personal and tribal rivalries, and from 853 and mainly 745 BCE, by the western expansion of the Assyrian Empire. The decline is marked by the murder of five kings in the last 25 years (Niemann 1993a: 150). The tribal groups representing heavily fragmented groups of sheep and goat breeders and small farmers were strong factors in resistance to state development. For this reason, Israel never had a network of civil servants covering the whole country to stabilize the central power. The development of localities with specialized military, economic and religious function remained limited (see three maps below). However, the Omrides did lay the foundation of a military administration.5 After the decline of Jehu and Jehoahaz the evolution continued with Jehoash and Jeroboam II. The effects of the Assyrian onslaught (Tiglath-pileser III) were aggravated by persistent internal revolts within the top tiers of Israelite society, until Sargon II took Samaria (720/19 BCE). Geographically, Israel is generally considered as consisting of the Central range (Ephraim, Benjamin and Manasseh), the Jezreel valley (Issachar), and Galilee (Zebulun in Lower Galilee, Naphtali in Upper Galilee) and as far north as Dan, with some possessions (Manasseh, Gilead) in Transjordan, but this simplistic picture needs to be revised. 4. Niemann 1993a: 38, 56-8, 60-2. Tappy 2001: 539-40. Tappy notes that from Jehu onwards, all the Israelite kings originate from Transjordan except Hoshea (2001: 575-6), which maybe reveals a will to keep close links with the eastern parts of the kingdom while being economically oriented towards the coast but residing in the middle (Samaria in the mountains). 5. Cf. Niemann 1993a, summary pp. 274-82.

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Megiddo and the sites on the northern border of the central Palestinian hill-country (Israel) or rather on the southern border of the Jezreel plain up to its northern border and some sites in Galilee (Kinneret, Razor and Dan) experienced shifts between independence and integration into larger regional entities. The plain of Jezreel together with the Galilee links Aram to the mountains of Israel and the Phoenician coast and constitutes an independent region that should not be integrated automatically into the northern Israelite kingdom. This in-between region deserves to be studied from its own particular point of view. Sometimes it was under Israelite control, sometimes under the control of Aram-Damascus. But its towns took care of their independence for most of their history. The integration of the localities of the Jezreel and Bethshean Valleys and the Galilee within the political and economic structures of the kingdom of Israel took more time than is usually thought. Joshua 17 and Judges 1 are good witnesses (for the Persian period!) of the difficulty of the process. From the ninth century to the Assyrian conquest, military, religious and economic integration (sometimes partly) of a few cities of the Jezreel and Beth-shean valleys and north-eastern Galilee into Israelite state administration took place. The cities' elites were realistic and flexible enough to bow down to the power of the day while retaining some economic and administrative power. In all, Israel controlled the Jezreel and Beth-shean valleys and Galilee only for a century (c. 880-840 and 800-733 BCE), with a 40-year interruption (c. 840-800 BCE) during which the region was under Aramaean rule (Niemann 2006). This new understanding of Israelite state development is confirmed by the archaeological records of the sites with state functions. During the first part of the ninth century BCE, Israel grew out of its mountain heartland and controlled Jezreel and Galilee through a few administrative centres. Hazael's invasion in the second part of the ninth century forced Israel to shrink back to its tenth-century (Saulide) size, re-establishing late tenth/early ninth-century Aramaic rule over Galilee and the Jezreel valley. The internal struggle between Jehu and the Omrides served the Aramaeans (Lipiriski 2000: 347-407). But as soon as Shalmaneser V put pressure on northern Syria, Jehoash and Jeroboam II were able to regain the lost ground. This is visible in the archaeology of the administrative centres (Niemann 2006). According to Tappy (2001: 505, 552), Tiglath-pileser III reduced Israel to a mere 'rump state' or 'reduced puppet state' (Younger 1999: 482) when he established the Assyrian provinces of Dur5u, Magiddu (Jezreel and Galilee) and GaPadi.6 However, it is more correct to say that Tiglath-pileser III pushed back Israel to its traditional core in the mountains (Niemann 2006). This view provides a more exact reflection of Israelite rule development, more slowly and more differentiated than the continuous growth into a mighty state found in the Bible. Israelite power structure was much more limited; its king was mainly a mobile war leader with little personal power, only a few full-time administrative functionaries, a wide-meshed power-network 6. Cf. Tappy 2001: fig. 2 (p. 6); perhaps GaPad never was a province but it became Assyrian with Aram-Damascus (Na'aman 1995).

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(Niemann 1993a; 2001). Two other factors need to be stressed: the power of Israel's neighbours and the vitality of its tribal structures sharply reduced the leeway of Israel's central power. An important hint for a better understanding of the basis of Israelite rule comes from the analysis of military, religious and economic functions of the city of Samaria. In fact, the kingdom of Israel had very few such centres or locations devoted to economic, military or cultic functions. They established a rather loose network, with mainly military centres sited (some temporarily) on the borders (Hazor, Gezer [?], Ataroth, Khirbet el-Mudeyyineh [?] in Wadi Temed to the north of the Arnon = Jahaz [?] (Finkelstein 2000: 127 f), Ramoth [?]), in the border hinterland (Kinneret, Har Addir = 6ebel 5Adatir [?] (Finkelstein 2000: 124f)) and on the edges of the mountain heartland, the core of Israel (Megiddo, Taanach, Jezreel, Jericho). This underlines the mainly military function of the Israelite kings. The heartland itself was devoid of such centres, because the tribal structures and tribal sensitivity against central power structures prevented their establishment. Even the Bethel sanctuary was not founded by royal initiative but received royal support because of its traditional dignity and its position on the southern border vis-a-vis Jerusalem (Amos 7.10-17); also Dan in the north was a traditional border cult place and meeting point. The only royal foundation within the heartland was Samaria.

Map 1

Most important military places Temporary and smaller military places

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Map 2 King's residence Locations of state economy Main cultic ceotte of the state

Map 3

Important functional places of the state Smaller/temporary functional places of the state Area without functional places of the state Area of state functional places (some temporary)

Hence the main question: what was Samaria's role in the context of the development of the Israelite state? 2. Samaria The archaeological record will be confronted with extra-biblical and biblical texts. 2.1 Origins and Development of Samaria The founding of Samaria by Omri is not in doubt.7 The important reasons for the choice of Samaria are not in the centre of recent scholarly debate. The development of the northern kingdom after the end of the Davidic personal union based in Jerusalem reveals the vitality of the tribal structures that forced the ruler to move back and forth between several residences (Shechem-Penuel-Tirzah). The choice of Samaria establishes a clear break from Shechem (on the crossroad between north-south and east-west routes within Ephraimite territory), and from Penuel in central Transjordan near 7.

Stager 1990; Finkelstein 1990; Tappy 1992; Avigad 1993; Forsberg 1995.

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the north-south Kings' Highway8 and Tirzah9 (towards the economically important Beth Shean valley, Issachar and the east). Omri10 chose a site 12 km to the north-west of the Shechem crossroad clearly oriented towards the Phoenician coast, thus reflecting one of the aims of the overall (political and economic) Omride programme. Additionally, the new foundation is a personal dynastic holding allowing a certain independence from the tribal structures, like Saul in Gibeon and David in Jerusalem.11 For all those reasons the place was a clever choice: Samaria will retain its important function even for the dynasties that overturned the Omrides. 2.2 The End of Royal Samaria The transformation of Samaria, from the Israelite royal place into an Assyrian provincial capital has been thoroughly analysed12 but important questions are yet to be resolved: was Shalmaneser V the first Assyrian ruler to take the city or was Sargon the first to enter Samaria? It is clear that the change of rule took place between 724 and 719 BCE (Tappy 2001: 558-69). But what happened during those years? The Bible provides the following scenario: Assyrian invasion (Shalmaneser V), submission of Hoshea, rebellion of Hoshea, Assyrian invasion13 and arrest of Hoshea, new arrival of Assyrian troops, three-year siege, storming and capture of Samaria by Sargon II who carried thousands of Israelites away to Assyria. 2.2.1 Archaeology New archaeological analysis by Forsberg (1995) and Tappy (2001) presents a new basis for the interpretation of the last years of Israelite Samaria. Contrary to Kenyon's claim, Forsberg shows that there are no traces of destruction that could be attributed to the Assyrians between 724 and 720 BCE. A destruction can be dated towards the end of the Assyrian rule c. 650-625 BCE. Forsberg considers that the gap between the destruction traditionally dated in 722 or 720 BCE and the new settlement must be longer.

8. Gilead; maybe a conscious link to Saul's Transjordanian connections. 9. Residence of Jeroboam (1 Kgs 14.17) Nadab und Ba'sha (1 Kgs 15.33), Ela b. Ba'sha (1 Kgs 16.8-9), Zimri (1 Kgs 16.15), Omri for 6 years (1 Kgs 16.23). After half a century, a change of royal seat is a powerful political gesture. 10. If Omri, as Ba'sha and Ela, comes from Issachar (Miller and Hayes 1986: 266), at first he continues in Tirzah according to the Issacharite tribal tradition against the usurpers Zimri and Tibni b. Ginat. 11. For this pattern see Niemann 1997: 267-8 with notes 37-8. 12. Cf. literature in note 1 and commentaries of 2 Kgs 17-18. Two (or more) conquests of Samaria are postulated under Shalmaneser V and Sargon n, cf. Becking 1992: 38-44 and Uehlinger's collection of scholarly opinions to that point: 1998: 771. 13. Tappy 2001: 557, 572, 575 considers that Samaria houses Assyrian civil servants already during Hoshea's reign (732 BCE).

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Tappy enlarges the study to phases IV (first half of the eighth cent.), V (c. 750-720 BCE) and VI-VH (late eighth cent, and first half of the seventh cent. BCE). Against Kenyon, Tappy (2001: 222-6, 351-3, 435-41, 558-63, 563-75) finds no trace of destruction on the floors of BP (= Building Period) V (c. 750720) and BP IV (c. 800-750). Tappy insists on 'the lack of a coherent destruction level that might date to Tiglath-pileser HI, Shalmaneser V, or Sargon II' (2001: 562). It is important that Shalmaneser 'initiated a direct though protracted siege [! HMN] against the capital [! HMN] in the seventh year of Hoshea's rule (2 Kgs 18.9; see 17.5b). Not until Hoshea's ninth year, however, did Shalmaneser succeed in capturing the citv. and the Hebrew verb now changes to indicate this action (from Hebrew 2 Kgs 17:6 and 18:10; compare the Akkadian hepu "to break"). ...Assyria's protracted offensive against Samaria attests to the city's stalwart defensive systems, which still included the strong Casemate Wall designed and built by King Ahab...' (Tappy 2001: 560). According to Tappy, the well trained Assyrian troops besieged Samaria (that has no water spring, Tappy 2001: 569-70) at least for one year or more before taking it, but without destroying it.14 According to Tappy, with its powerful casemate fortifications, the city could have sustained years of siege. But what about 2 Kings 17 claiming that Shalmaneser V simply entered and imprisoned Hoshea? Where were the city walls? And how large was Samaria15 and its fortifications? What do Tappy and all the other scholars understand by 'the city's stalwart defensive systems, which still included the strong Casemate Wall designed and built by King Ahab...' (Tappy 2001: 560)? Probably the casemate wall around the palace including a fortification system around the city, with the same layout as the Roman walls. Convincingly Tappy considers the Acropolis to be exclusively the residence of the king and his court (2001: 169-72, 348, 577-8) in the same way as Jezreel, serving as royal military headquarters. Compared to Jezreel's 7 (or 4?) ha, Samaria covered only 1.96 ha.16 But what about the overall 'city plan' (Tappy 2001: 166) of Samaria as the capital city? Should it not be impressive to be able to sustain a 3-year siege? Tappy reckons that the 'capital' or 'city' 14. The big city of Damascus fell after only 45 days: Tappy 2001: 552-3. All scholars postulate a siege and destruction: Timm 1989/90: 74-5; Fuchs 1994: 458; Kuan 1995: 207; Younger 1999: 482; at last Na'aman 2004. Even if it was proven that the Dur-Sharrukin (Room 5 [V] ) reliefs by Sargon n represent war scenes against Samaria (Franklin 1994: 268-72 and Fig. 6; Uehlinger 1998: 768-71), a 3-year siege would not be proven, but a conquest. 15. Speculations over the size of the city of Samaria (Avigad 1993: 1302): Crowfoot 7.4 ha, K. M. Kenyon includes within Israelite Samaria even the Roman walls (1000 m east-west X 800 m north-south, c. 80 ha, cf. H. Weippert 1977: 266, 268; Avigad 1993: 1307: 64 ha), Na'aman 2004 (a few dozen hectares). If scholars imagine a big capital city Samaria of the eighth century BCE, perhaps they erroneously feel inspired from Crowfoot's plan 1 (in Crowfoot, Kenyon and Sukewik 1924) with the Roman city wall. 16. Tappy 2001: 348 comparing L. G. Herr (1.58 ha). Finkelstein situates the area inside the Inner Wall 161 with 180 x 90 m = 1.6 ha. In BP II the casemate wall contains an area of 210 x 115 m = 2.5 ha. Jezreel: 270 x 140 m = c. 3.8 ha (Finkelstein 2000: 115-17). Cf. following note.

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of Samaria was no international political and economic centre (Tappy 2001: 169-74, 348, 576-78). Since the excavations have so far focused mostly upon the Acropolis, it is impossible to know whether other administrative and residential quarters existed on the slopes and on the surrounding hills as some scholars speculate till now. B. Hennessy found meagre traces of settlement to the immediate south and east of the palace, while the terraces to the north and west of the palace were not occupied before the Persian period (Forsberg 1995: 28; Tappy 2001: 171). Were the traces of the previous structures destroyed when the deep foundations of the Hellenistic and Roman structures were dug? Argumenta e silentio have no strong weight. Are there other explanations? The Acropolis and the residential complex are set on a rectangular dais delimiting 'a rather abrupt... area' 72 m long in the west, 93.2 m in the north (0.67 ha). The rectangular rocky corner lays c. 3.5 m over the surrounding area and represents a living space for max. 200 persons (Tappy 2001: 169). The casemate wall of the palace seems to reinforce the sides of the steep slope like the old 'inner wall'.17 At c. 8-13 m distance from the casemate wall on the middle terrace, an additional wall of good quality was constructed later. A few remains of this wall have been found in the north and south-west, and a gate in the east (Crowfoot et al 1942: 16-20 with Fig. 8, 108-10; Forsberg 1995: Fig. 1). Were there other buildings on the slopes? Tappy doubts it due to the steepness of the slope (2001: 169). Some small houses may have occupied a lower terrace in a similar position to the administrative buildings lying to the west of the palace, but no domestic quarters were found (Tappy 2001: 169 and note 629, 171-2; cf. Crowfoot et al. 1942: 20-1) The archaeological analysis does not sustain an Assyrian destruction. Very few Assyrian remains are found for the period after 720/19 BCE (Tappy 2001: 347-8, in particular 349-50, 572-5). What was the function of Assyrian Samaria VI-VII ? It seems that Samaria played a secondary role in the Assyrian administrative system compared to the extensive and reorganized functional city of Megiddo III which was in a much better position with regard to traffic and economic relations.19 Samaria played a symbolic role to signify the defeat of the Israelite kingship, its strategic and commercial importance being minor.

17. Tappy 2001: 170 n. 633 refers to L. G. Herr: 178 x 89 m and 1.58 ha for the area inside the so-called Inner Wall 161 as Avigad 1993: 1302; Tappy considers that the 1.96 ha within the casemate wall could house c. 500 people. The plateau was enlarged by 16.5 m (north) and 30 m (west) when the casemate wall was built (Avigad 1993: 1302-3). Overall size of the plateau: c. 400 m E-W and c. 200 m N-S (according to H. Weippert 1977: 265). 18. Were there administrative or residential quarters in the valley or on the slopes? It is archaeologically possible but unproven. The large Hellenistic quarters contain much pottery but few architectural remains: Crowfoot et al. 1942: 20f. The scattered Iron Age ceramic does not allow ascertaining that the Israelite town was nearly as large as the Herodian city (Crowfoot et al. 1942: 21). 19. Tappy 2001: 227-350: Megiddo m = Samaria BP VI. cf. also Tappy 2001: 571-5.

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2.2.2 Extra-biblical texts Concerning the end of royal Samaria these have recently been studied by Timm (1989/90), Na'aman (1990), Hayes and Kuan (1991), Becking (1992), Fuchs (1994), Kuan (1995), Forsberg (1995), Younger (1999), Tappy (2001 ).20 Shalmaneser V Babylonian Chronicles 1, col I (11. 24-29) 1. 28: uru$d-ma/ba-ra->-in i^-te-pi. According to Na'aman (1990: 211, 215f.) and Tappy (2001: 5621} hepu(m) 'to plunder, ravage' is widely used (Grayson 2000: 73; Forsberg 1995: 38; Kuan 1995: 194-7), also 'to capture, control, subdue, conquer' (CAD H 170-174; Black, George and Postgate 2000: 114). It cannot be restricted to a physical destruction,21 so according to this text Shalmaneser may have subdued Samaria without destroying it.22 Sargon II a) Annals Khorsabad, Annals 10-17; ARAB I, 423: '(on the people of Samaria) [27,290 people who lived therein] I carried away; 50 chariots for my royal equipment, I selected from [among them] .... [The city I rebuilt24], I made it greater than it was before; people of the lands [my hand had conquered, I settled therein. My official I placed over them as governor]. Tribute, tax, I imposed upon them as upon the Assyrians.' Khorsabad, Annals 23-25; ARAB I, 525: 'In my second year of reign, IluTbP dil of Hamath] ...of the wide [land of Amurru?] he gathered together at the city of Karkar and the oath ... [the cities of Arpad, Simirra], Damascus and Samaria [revolted against me] ' Khorsabad, Annals 120-123; ARAB I, IT26: 'The tribes of Tamad, Tlbadidl, Marsimanu and Haiapa, distant Arabs, who inhabit the desert.... I struck them down, the remnant of them I deported and settled them in Samaria.'

20. Synopsis of the texts by Tappy 2001: 609-11; Analysis by Tappy 2001: 558-79 21. Against Becking 1992: 22-5. 22. Na'aman 1990: 210f., 215-16; Tappy 2001: 562-3; differently Becking 1992: 24-5 Younger 1999; Kuan 1995: 193-207 reckons with an attack by Shalmaneser V, arrest of Hoshea and transformation of Israel/Ephraim into a province (2 Kgs 17.4b). After his attack of Tyre (Hos. 9.13), Shalmaneser returned to Samaria following a revolt (724/3 BCE), devastated Ephraim (2 Kgs 17.5a) and besieged Samaria (2 Kgs 17.5b; 18.9) and conquered it afte 3 years (722/1 BCE). 23. Cf. Becking 1992: 39-45; Fuchs 1994: 87-8 (text), 313-14 (translation). 24. Fuchs 1994: 87f, translates (314) '(Samerina) I transformed and made (it) larger than before' but also insists of the strange formulation (314 n. 225: 'Die Wortwahl ist hier tatsachlich recht ungewohnlich...'.). Cf. Tappy 2001: 573 on the rebuilding of Samaria. The whole region, not just Samaria, is concerned in this transformation including new inhabitants (Annals 120-123). 25. Cf. Fuchs 1994: 89 (text), 314 (translation) 26. Cf. Fuchs 1994: 110 (text), 320 (translation)

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Comment: Apart from the stereotyped formulae of tribute and the installation of new settlers, there are three notable points: 1. The mention of a rebuilding or reconstruction of Samaria without further details of this reorganization. 2. The enlarging of the city. 3. The installation of a governor.27 b) Great Display Inscription 23-2528 ARAB II, 55: 'I besieged29 and captured Samaria, carrying off 27,290 of the people who dwelt therein. 50 chariots I gathered from among them, I caused others to take their (the deported inhabitants') portion, I set my officer(s)30 over them and imposed upon them the tribute of the former king.' Comment: a conquest (but not a [3 year-]siege) and the setting up of a governor are mentioned as in the Annals. c) Nimrud Prism Col. IV: 25^1 on both, Text D (ND 2601+34401+3417) and E (ND 3400+3408+3409)31 '[The inhabitants of Sajmerina, who agreed with a king [hostile (?) to] me, not to endure servitude and not to br]ing tribute [to Ashur (?)], did battle. [Wit]h the power of the great gods, my [lord]s [aga]inst them I foug[ht]. [2]7280 people, together with [their] chariots, and the gods, in which they trusted, as spoil I counted. With 200 chariots for [my] royal force from them I formed a unit. The rest of them I settled in the midst of Assyria. I repopulated Samerina more than before. People from countries, conquered by my hands, I brought in it. My commissioner I appointed as governor over them. I counted them as Assyrians.'32 Comment: Contrary to the Annals, a struggle against Samaria but not a siege is mentioned. New settlers and the introduction of a governor replace the mention of Samaria's reconstruction and enlarging (Tappy 2001: 573-4). 27. The chronological sequence of events, especially the installation of the governor, is impossible to establish: after the establishment of Hoshea's vassalage (so Tappy 2001: 557) or after his arrest? At the latest after the conquest in 720/19 BCE, see Sargon's Nimrud Prism Col. IV: 25-41. 28. Cf. Becking 1992: 25f.; Fuchs 1994: 197 (text), 344 (translation). 29. This translation suggests a full-blown siege by the Assyrian sappers, but see Fuchs 1994: 344: ds-ku-na tah-ta-su ""Sa-me-ri-na al-me ak-sud 'Die Stadt Samerina umzingelte und eroberte ich' = 'The town of Samaria I encircled and conquered' (from hatu(m) : to strike down, cf. tahtu 'defeat' and kasddu(m) 'conquer, defeat, overcome' (Black / George / Postgate 2000 s.v.). The formulation 'encircle and conquer' is conventional, cf. a few lines later, 11.34-35 at Qarqar, with explicit fire destruction, lacking for Samaria. This words in any case describes encircling and preventing escape but not necessarily the breach off city walls. 30. Becking 1992: 26: 'commissioner'. 31. Cf. Becking 1992: 28-30. 32. Translation Becking 1992: 29f.

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d) The Assur Charter ARAB II, 133-13533: '...In the second year of my reign, when I had seated myself upon the royal throne and had been [crowned] with the lordly tiara, I shattered the might of Humbanigash, king of Elam, and defeated Ilu-bi3di of Hamath.... He gathered together (the people of) Arpad and Samerina (Samaria) and brought them to his side (aid)....' e) The Palace Door (Pavement) Inscriptions (Schwelleninschriften) IV: 31-32 ARAB III, 9934: 'Palace of Sargon, the great king, the mighty king, king of the universe, king of Assyria...conqueror of Samaria and the whole land of BitHumria....' f) Bull Inscription 1.21 ARAB II, 9235: 'Palace of Sargon, the great king, the mighty king, king of the universe, king of Assyria.... who overthrew Samaria, all of Bit-Humria and Kasku.' Vgl. Fuchs 1994: 63: im-nu-su-nu-ti sa-pin ur"Sa-me-ri-na ka-la mat (kur) Bit (e)Hu-um-ria mat (kur) Kas-ku (303): 'der die Stadt Samerina, das gesamte Land Bit-Humria, (sowie) das Land Kasku vollig einebnete'. g) Small Display Inscription (from Room XIV) 1.15 ARAB II, 8036: 'I plundered the city of Shinuhtu, Samirina (Samaria) and the whole land of Brt-Humria (Israel).' Becking 1992: 27-8: as-lul ^Si-nu-ufr-tu ^Sa-mir-i-na u gi-mir KUR (mat) E (bet)-jiu-um-ri-ia 'I plundered the city of Shinuhtu, Samirina (Samaria) and the whole land of Bit-Humria (Israel).' Fuchs 1994: 76: [a]s-lul ^Si-nu- uh-tu ^Sa-mer-i-na u gi-mir mat (kur) Bit (E )-Hu-um-ri-ia : 'Ich pliinderte37 die Stadt Sinuljtu aus, die Stadt Samerina und das ganze Land Bit-Humria.' (Fuchs 1994: 308). h) Cylinder Inscription 11.19-20 '(Sargon who) subjected the extensive land of the house of Omri, who inflicted a defeat upon Egypt at Raphia, who brought Hanun, the king of Gaza, to Assur, who gained the victory over the Tamudi, the Ibadidi, the Marsimani (and) the Hajapa, who drove their bereaved and settled them in the land of the house of Omri.'38 '(Sargon) der das weite Land Bit-Humria erbeben liefi.... der die Sta'mme Tamudi, Ibadidi, Marsimani (und) Hajapa besiegte, deren Reste umgesiedelt wurden, und die er im Land Bit-Humria wohnen lieJS'... ,39 33. 34. 35 36. 37. 38. 39.

Cf. Becking 1992: 34-6. Cf. Becking: 1992: 27; Fuchs 1994: 261 (text), 359 (translation). Becking 1992: 33: 'usurper of Samaria and the whole land of the house of Omri'. Cf.ANET285. salalu(m) 'to carry off, plunder', Black, George and Postgate 2000: 350. Becking 1992: 32; cf. ARAB H, 118. Fuchs 1994: 34 (text), 290 (translation).

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Comment: Inscriptions c) - h) mention attack, taking and plunder of Samaria. Siege and specifics about the conquest which are common in other inscriptions are missing. The only mention of destruction (Bull Inscription) could be purely conventional. Against Annals 10-17, there is no mention of rebuilding or enlarging; the contents are rather general and may be conventional. But the exile of Samarians and their replacement by others are more concrete. Like the archaeological record, the extra-biblical texts do not sustain a siege of Samaria (Forsberg 1995: 47f.), nor its destruction. Whatever happened between 724/23 and 720/19 BCE remains unclear in some detail. Did Shalmaneser V install a governor next to Hoshea immediately? Was Hoshea's arrest preceded by a siege for which all archaeological and epigraphical/ textual evidence is missing? Was the Assyrian governor installed only after Hoshea's rebellion? After his arrest, was Samaria left to fend for itself, and rebel again, leading to a new conquest by Sargon II? 2.2.3 Biblical Texts NRSV 2 Kings 17 (3) King Shalmaneser of Assyria came up against him; Hoshea became his vassal, and paid him tribute. (4) But the king of Assyria found treachery in Hoshea; for he had sent messengers to King So of Egypt, and offered no tribute to the king of Assyria, as he had done year by year; therefore the kins of Assyria confined him and imprisoned him (in Hebrew . (5) Then the king of Assyria invaded all the land and came to Samaria; for three years he besieged it (6) In the ninth year of Hoshea the king of Assyria captured Samaria ; he carried the Israelites away to Assyria. He placed them in Halah, on the Habor, the river of Gozan, and in the cities of the Medes. 2 Kings 18 (9) adds: In the fourth year of King Hezekiah, which was the seventh year of King Hoshea son of Elah of Israel, King Shalmaneser of Assyria came up against Samaria, besieged it (10) and at the end of three years, took it . In the sixth year of Hezekiah, which was the ninth year of King Hoshea of Israel, Samaria was taken. (11) The king of Assyria carried the Israelites away to Assyria, settled them in Halah, on the Habor, the river of Gozan, and in the cities of the Medes, (12) because they did not obey the voice of the LORD their God but transgressed his covenant- all that Moses the servant of the LORD had commanded; they neither listened nor obeyed. 2 Kings 17 tells us that Hoshea was arrested and put in prison I .2 Kings 17, like 2 Kgs 18.9f., claims that Samaria was "IS"* 'locked up, restricted, besieged'. After one year and up to two more years, Samaria is 'taken or occupied' , Such a 2-3-year siege is not attested in archaeology and extrabiblical sources. However, archaeology and extra-biblical texts agree with the Bible that Samaria has not been destroyed. The deportation of Israelites and the settling of non-Israelites in Samaria (2 Kgs 17.24ff.) is mentioned in both text groups (Kuan 1995: 200-7; Becking 1992: 47-60).

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Archaeology and extra-biblical texts do not attest any siege or destruction of Samaria while the Bible mentions a siege but no destruction. The biblical presentation of a 3-year siege may reflect a Judaean point of view, lumping all the past events that took place in Samaria between 724/23 and 720/19 BCE under the general designation 'siege'. The various phases of Samaria's integration, with the intervention of two different kings (Shalmaneser V and Sargon n) are combined. However, Tappy and all the other scholars still postulate a siege (!) of the capital (!).40 They probably imagine that eighth-century Samaria was surrounded by a rampart similar to the Roman fortification (Crowfoot et al. 1942: 21) because a capital city should be surrounded by a city-wall. The fortifications have to be breached before the city can be taken - without further destruction of the acropolis in the special view of Forsberg and Tappy. However, if no destruction took place between 724/3 and 720/19 BCE and if the 3-year siege is a literary combination of two short interventions of the Assyrian kings, why postulate a siege at all?41 There was no siege, as the analysis of Samaria's functions makes clear. First, I question the common opinion that Samaria was a classical capital city. This will clarify why Samaria was not besieged or destroyed and how the Assyrians used Samaria. My main point is built on the role of Samaria within the Israelite political power structure. This requires defining the term 'capital' (Excursus 1) and the Hebrew word (Excursus 2). Excursus 1: Samaria and Jerusalem as capitals? Looking for characteristic features Olivier (1983) argues that in order to be considered as a capital city, a locality needs to be: a) b) c) d)

the focal point of institutionalized kingship the focal point of all peace-time economic activities the centre point of the country's administration the unifying political centre with a defendable acropolis a national sanctuary a storage sector and other buildings representing the symbols of the nation.

40. Tappy 2001: 166, 347-8, 560, 578 and all previous studies (for example, Crowfoot etal. 1942: 21; Becking 1992: 24; Avigad 1993: 1300; Herzog 1997: 229; Finkelstein 2000: 116, 121-2, 131; de Geus 2003: 43-6; Na'aman 2004) consider Samaria as a capital city with defensive systems but its residential quarters have not been found yet (H. Weippert 1977: 267). But only Tappy admits that 'in any event, as grand as the capital of Israel might have appeared at its zenith, it always lacked a quantitative urban aspect and served primarily as the private habitation of the kingdom's secular leaders' (Tappy 2001: 578). I agree to limit Samaria's function to royal residence, but the term 'capital' is misleading, see below. 41. Becking 1992: 39, 56 postulates 2 sieges and 2 conquests, conflated in 2 Kgs 17.3-6; 18.9-11.

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According to Buccellati (1967:223—4) both Jerusalem and Samaria are capitals because: a) b) c) d) e) f) g) h) i) j)

they hold leadership roles in all aspects they are sited in the heartland of the state they are the most populous cities they house the seat of government they offer the highest social and economic living standard they are administrative centres of bureaucratic and legal state apparatus they are the best-defended place from a military point of view they hold the best of national cultural achievements (literature, architecture and art) as the seat of the king, they are the main religious centre they are ideological symbols of the state.

These two definitions may be valid for ideal types, but some points do not apply to Samaria (Niemann 1993a: 92-6). In Olivier's criteria, point a) is acceptable but b) is not.42 In 1993, I demonstrated that Samaria did not house a central administration covering the whole of Israel because no such deep-rooted administrative system existed then. A royal administration could only be found in the few localities that had clear royal functions, and each one of these sites must be considered separately. Recently I have delineated anew the specifics of Israelite royal centres (Niemann 2006). Each probably housed a few royal officials, fulfilling the particular function of the town in question (cf. previously Niemann 1993a: 3-91). Olivier's criterion d) has limited application to Samaria: it is impossible to demonstrate that Samaria ever developed, as Jerusalem did, an ideology or theology that served as unifying symbol of the 'nation'. All indications of a 'national' sanctuary at Samaria are missing (Tappy 2001: 578), apart from a royal chapel or temple (of YHWH Shomron?) including anthropomorphic cult statuary43 that had no 'nation'-wide function. Buccellati's criteria are also disputable: Samaria was probably the most important political centre where the military and governmental elite resided (a + d). The geographical position within the heartland is important but is not determining, note Jerusalem's position at the extreme northern limit of Judah (b). Samaria was not the most populous place (c): Sargon deported not only a few Samarian residents but also inhabitants from the Israelite mountains 42. So Tappy 2001: 348, 577-8. 43. Cf. Sargon's Nimrud Prism (Samarian gods as spoil) (infra p. 193 with nn. 30-1) and Uehlinger 1997:125-6; 1998; Becking 1997; 2001, cf. an iconographic parallel to this text on transportation of gods as spoil pictured in Dur-Sharrukin/Khorsabad room 5, representating Samaria (Franklin 1994) or Hamath (Becking 1997) or undecidable (Uehlinger 1997: 125-7: Samaria or Qarqar?). In the meantime Uehlinger (1998) as well as Becking (2001) vote for Samaria. For the question of a temple in Samaria cf. IKgs 16.32; 2 Kgs 10.2f.; Uehlinger 1998; Becking 2001; Timm 2003.

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(cf. Sargon's Nimrud Prism Col. FV:31) which had a high population density (Zertal 1992; Finkelstein and Magen ed. 1993; Zertal 1994; Finkelstein 1995; Finkelstein, Lederman and Bunimovitz 1997; Zertal 2004; with a special look to Judah/Jerusalem: Lehmann 2004). Samaria could have provided the best social standing (e), but only a very small number of people enjoyed such status, the royal family and its close partners. Since the administrative apparatus (f) was very limited (Niemann 1993a: 3-91, 174—84), Samaria can hardly be considered as a capital city. Hazor and Jezreel, when they existed, held much more important military roles (g) than Samaria. Criterion (h) is similar to (e). The Bethel sanctuary may have had a better library than Samaria.44 The religious function of Israelite kings or pretension to religious dignity being completely unclear, criterion (i) may apply better to Jerusalem than to Samaria. Samaria probably did not serve as state symbol (j) since all indication of an integrated central cult and ideology/theology are missing for Samaria, but are clear for Jerusalem. Of course, that we do not have the traditions of Samaria does not mean that there never were any. Therefore, Samaria served mainly as royal stronghold ( see Excursus 2) only for the leader of mobile military kingship and its family and courtiers. The limited administrative personnel resided in the various royal functional cities rather than in Samaria where they had to do their jobs. For the Assyrians, Samaria is the residence of the ruling dynasty.45 But for Israel and its population, Samaria held no particular central position. Excursus 2: Etymology of The plural form cdrftn is usually considered as irregular as the following examples demonstrate: 1. byt 2. }ys < * >ins 3. r

Plural btym (banm) ! PI. >nsym V }ns m (arim)46 < *cd

< *baytim, V byt (Knauf 1984: 18) rrim ^cr(r)4~

According to models 1 and 2, plural crym may derive from cyr or cr(r). In byt, pi. btym ly I is a true radical letter (see plural), but in cyr, plural crym, ly I is a pseudo radical letter (see plural), as in 5ys (see plural). According to Model 2 (}ys), the singular cyr can be derived from V cr(r), attested in Old South Arabian plural "rr (V f RR, afcul form, whereas / 3 1 is a

44. 'Bethel played a part of equal importance to Babylon in the literary history of the Neo-Babylonian period.... it was the northern tradition which came to Judah via Bethel, a process which started when Judah incorporated Bethel and its local temple, school and library' (maybe as early as 662 or as late as 640/630 BCE) (Knauf, 2006:295). 45. Cf. the Assyrian designation of King Jehoash and Menahem as 'the Samarian': Na'aman 1998; Tappy 2001: 513, 535. 46. Lenghthening of the first liquid Irl by the vowel, see Samarit. 'arrdm (HAL 776b). 47. Beeston et al. 1982: 20 s.v.
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South Semitic plural morpheme), in singular as cr(r) = 'hill, castle, mountain place' (Beeston et al 1982: 20). The Hebrew singular fyr results from the assimilation of the first Irl to the vowel48 and then a re-segmentarization resulting in the pseudo-radical lyl: *cirr --> ciir (= cir) —> ciyr (= cir). So the root cr(r) can be found in Old South Arabian 'hill, castle, mountain place' as well as in the Hebrew plural crym < *crrym (Knauf 1988: 69), cf. Ugaritic cr = 'city'.49 Hebr. cyr covers the semantic area 'mountain place, safe place, place of refuge'. The concept of protection is therefore inherent to cyr = 'city' or 'castle, mountain place'.50 However, 'protection' does not necessarily imply a wall for a site or city (Hulst 1976: 269f.; H. Weippert, 1988: 403f.).51 Protection can be provided by tent ropes for a group of tents (Knauf 1985: 60), a tower for the inhabitants of a hamlet or small village or the outer walls of a circular settlement.52 In short: Hebrew cfr is derived from the root CRR (as Sabaic cr, plural }crr 'fortress'). Originally, it was cirr, plural fdrnm (in analogy to sipr - siparim). Whereas the plural is regular (with compensatory lengthening of the /a/), in the singular, the first of the two Irl was assimilated to the vowel: cirr >fir, as }ins, pi. }anasim, becomes is in the singular.

4. (Re-) Construction Samaria was no traditional capital city.53 It was merely a mountain stronghold (hebr. ) for the court and family of a mobile warrior king. Other functions

48. On the assimilation of liquids by vowels in singular see Knauf 1982: 37; 1984: 18; 1988: 69 and n. 329. 49. Gordon 1965: Nr. 1847 derives Ugar. cr = 'city' from unattested V **yr, but see Sabean plural xrr. Otto 1987: 60 refuses to link Ugar. cr with unattested Ugar. V *cyr and *gyr. That Ugar. gyr = 'mountain' belongs here (Frick 1977: 29; HAL 776) is not sure. In any case, Ugar. g(w)r does not correspond to Heb. cyr and Sab. cr(i) because if Ugar. ghain stands for Semitic ghain, so it must also appear as Sab. ghain (I thank E. A. Knauf for these indications). Ugar. V * g(w)r or gr = 'mountain' corresponds to Aram, tur and to *ZWR (cf. Gordon 1965: Nr. 1953; Ugar. / g I = semit. / ?/ also in Ugar. ngr). 50. Otto 1987: 61; cf. also Hulst 1976: 269-70; Frick 1977: 29; Uehlinger 1987:171-2; Isa. 26.1; Jer. 30.18. cyr as semantically limited to 'fortified acropolis' (Ahlstrom 1982: 138 n. 30) is impossible or half true. 51. But see Otto 1987; Frick 1977: 10 against Hulst 1976: 269-70. 52. For places of refuge for nomadic breeders in northern Negev in eleventh/tenth cent. BCE cf. Finkelstein 1984; Knauf 1986:175; circular villages: Herzog 1984,78-82; Finkelstein, 1988: 250-62. For an exceptional hamlet or village with a wall cf. Gilo (Mazar 1981). 53. For a functional definition of 'town/city' cf. Niemann 1990: 6-22, 25-33; summary: Niemann 1993b: 238 n. 14.

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(military, trade, administration, and cult) were distributed among other specialized sites (Niemann 2006). Defensive functions (border posts) were moved northwards and north-eastwards because the north-east is considered as the most exposed region: Har Addir (?); Hazor, Kinneret, En Gev, Ramoth (?) as well as south-eastwards: Ataroth and Khirbet el-Mudeyine in Wadi Temed to the north of the Arnon. The tribal heartland was protected by Megiddo, Taanach and Jezreel, and possibly by other support bases (maybe Gezer on the south-western border and Jericho as midway point towards the north Moab conquests and Ataroth).54 Bethel and Dan were traditional sanctuaries, temporarily promoted by the state marking the borders and claims of the state of Israel. The residence of the king and his family required no central sanctuary (Timm 2003) but a cult (building or chapel, certainly not an empty one) within the palace is attested (Nimrud Prism Col. IV:25-41; 1 Kgs 16.32; 2 Kgs 10.26-27; Uehlinger 1998: 765-71; Becking 2001: 159-61). Megiddo (VA-FVB + FVA) concentrated royal economic (trade and administration) functions, thanks to its central position in the Jezreel valley towards the Phoenician coast and on the way to Damascus and Mesopotamia. Samaria, with its massive architecture set within the traditional tribal heartland, was an architectural icon of the king's power as well as a conscious hint to the tribal basis of the state. Although they were unable to sustain a long siege,55 the walls of Samaria (first the 'Inner wall' 161, after that the Casemate wall and later an 'Outer wall') protected the royal residence against razzias as well as small task forces; that was good enough for such mobile war kings as the Omrides and likewise for the Nimshides, Jehu and his dynasty as well, who simply took the residence over. But is it conceivable that a royal residence could be so seemingly unprotected without a big city including strong city wall, towers and city gates around the acropolis? How did the king protect himself and the land? In fact, neither Samaria56 nor the land were left unprotected, because various defensive measures did exist: a) Israel was always a mountain entity (1 Kgs 20.23) without economic resources for a big standing army. Its mobile war kings avoided openfield battles and prolonged sieges in the heartland of its kingdom: 1 Kgs 20 and 2 Kgs 6.24-7.20 reflect limited razzia's and do not require the existence of a large urban centre around the Samarian residence ,57 54. Some of the functional places did exist only temporarily, cf. Niemann 1993a; 2006. 55. The closest good spring is one mile away (Tappy 2001: 569-70). 56. Finkelstein understands the casemate wall as retaining wall for the terrace rather than fortification: 'The casemate wall [as well as the Inner Wall 161, HMN] ...was more a support system than a real fortification'. On the other hand: 'The Samaria casemates are exceptionally broad. The outer wall is 1.8 m thick, the inner 1 m, and the space between the two 7 m' (2000: 115). It seems to me that the fortification aspect is tantamount to the function as retaining wall. 57. 1 Kgs 20.2, 12, 19, 43: Samaria as = 'castle, mountain place' with a palace (byt) and a casemate wall (2 Kgs 6.26 ), guards of the gate (2 Kgs 7.10), and a

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b) For that reason some garrisons more or less guarded the external borders and its hinterland (Har Addir [?], Hazor, Kinneret, Ramoth [?], Jericho [?], Ataroth, Khirbet el-Mudeyine [?], Gezer [?]) while Megiddo, Jezreel and Taanach protected the access to the heartland. c) From the Omrides onwards, Israel possessed war chariots58, a necessary innovation once Israel took control of flat lands (Niemann 2006). These were, of course, quartered not in the mountainous area but in Jezreel on the fringe of the important Jezreel valley where there was need for such a kind of weapon. d) The development of a military organization started in the ninth century BCE.59 e) Treaties were systematically established with the neighbouring states Tyre/Phoenicia (1 Kgs 16.31), Judah (1 Kgs 22.45, 49-50; 2 Chron. 20.35-7; 2 Kgs 11; 2 Chron. 22.10-23.15) and Aram (Shalmaneser III, Monolith Inscr. Col. 11:90-102; 1 Kgs 20.34; Isa. 7.4-6).60 f) It seems to me that the Samaria ostraca reveal a system of inner interaction and a royal attempt at controlling the tribal elites rather than a tax-system. There were no taxes in Israel.61 The ostraca indicate a limited state development during the reigns of Jehoash and Jeroboam II. In a tradition-oriented way Jehoash and Jeroboam II tried to extend and stabilize prestige and authority in the Manassite tribal area around the residency they inherited from their predecessor. I have tried to prove that in the Samaria ostraca one can see that in the first half of the eighth century, elite members from the clans around Samaria resided for shorter or longer periods of time at the royal court as 'honoured guests', receiving sometimes wine and oil from their home places or clans (see the ostraca as receipts). Thereby the royal residence of Samaria was to be surrounded by loyal clans and clan leaders (Niemann 1993a: 75-86, 274-5; 2000: 71 fn. 11). This method reflects a traditional type of rule often reflected in the Bible.62 It belongs to the first stage of state administration's development. The frequent revolutions during the

commander ( 2 Kgs 10.5, cf. n. 64: from Kuntillet Ajrud and the seal of the commander 1SH1U? presented by Avigad 1986: 31) and other dignitaries (2 Kgs 10.6). 58. Shalmaneser III, Monolith Inscription, ARAB I, 611 (2000 [?] chariots); ANET 2789. David used only a few horses and chariots (for representation only? 2 Sam. 8.4; 1 Chron. 18.4). 59. Suggested by the division into military regions (mdynwt) since the Omrids: Niemann 1993a: 67-70, 89, 148, 270, 274, 280. 60. The seal of (Z)kryw khn d'r (Avigad and Sass 1997, No. 29) may indicate a treaty of Israel and Dor and an Israelite 'Emporion' in Dor. 61. Rutersworden 1985: 127-38; Niemann 1993a: 6, 26, 35-7, 78-81, 157-9, 164-5, 247-9, 260-1. 62. 1 Kgs 4.7-19; 2 Sam. 19.32-41; cf. 17.27-29. For other examples and the sociological background cf. Niemann 1993a: 14-16, 45-50, 91. Here, the horizontal tribal/clan solidarity meets the vertical institutional solidarity of the ruler and the tribal/clan elites because as a rule the ruler is a member of tribal/clan elite.

202

Ahab Agonistes second half of the eighth century BCE prevented the further development of state structures. The tribal organization of the Israelite small farmers and sheep and goat breeders society did not sustain the development of a full-blown urban centre at Samaria, and the strong royal residence did not require stronger fortification against peasant revolts or an Aramaean razzia as the existing one. Apart from the administration of the royal military, economic and religious functional cities mentioned above, the 'central' royal administration was so undeveloped that it easily fitted inside the palace compound63 (Niemann 1993a; Tappy 2001: 539-45). So Samaria was not the multifunctional capital city with differentiated urbanization dreamed by Olivier und Buccellati under the influence of biblical texts.

Keeping the royal residence within the tribal heartland reveals the enduring power and importance of the tribal structures, a factor ignored by Solomon as a traditional Canaanite city state ruler. Jeroboam as a tribesman did not make the same mistake. He preferred to reside and develop traditional places into 'palatinates' (Shechem, Penuel, and Tirzah), simultaneously important for traffic and trade. In rendering Samaria a personal property independent from tribal lands and closer to the coast than Shechem, Omri recognized the importance of the coast but at the same time he was careful to remain in close contact with the tribal heartland. 5. Conclusion The decline of royal Samaria and final integration into the Assyrian imperial structures in two stages (724/23 and 720/19 BCE) did not require a 3-year siege since the residence remained a place without a grown and differenciated urban capital city including city walls around the palace area. Only the palace residence was fortified i )64 to resist, for example, an Aramaean razzia or an attack from a regional or local rival,65 but the lack of water would not permit a long siege. The strong and well-trained Assyrian forces could enter Samaria at will (1 Kings 17), especially if a governor resided either within Samaria (or at Megiddo). Archaeology and texts all concur with the portrait of an Israelite kingship based on a highly mobile military force ruling over a decentralized multitribal entity. Samaria is therefore no Jerusalem. Due to its geographical and tribal fragmentation, the mountain kingdom of Israel retained till its end the characteristics of this mobile (war) kingship, 63. Cf. buildings west between the first wall (Inner Wall 161) and the casemate wall, also west of the casemate wall and possibly on the northern angle of the rock plateau on a lower terrasse (Tappy 2001: 171). 64. Corresponding to as royal fort of Kuntillet Ajrud, as shown by the inscription l-srcr (Niemann 1993a: 107). 65. In 2 Kgs 15.14 Menahem manages to enter the palace and to kill Shallum without siege.

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developing some marks of the (military) administration of a territorial state since the first half of the ninth century BCE (Niemann 2001). This kind o kingship and state fits very well with the characteristics of royal Samaria mentioned above. Military functions were dispatched in Hazor, Kinneret, Har Addir (?), Jezreel, Taanach, Ramoth (?), Jericho, Ataroth and Khirbet elMudeyine (?), trade functions in Megiddo and Dor (?) and religious functions in Bethel and Dan, some of them temporarily. This type of rule was flexible wide-meshed and respectful of tribal sensibilities; the difference from the onetribe kingdom of Judah with its off-centred urban capital is obvious. If Samaria was no urban capital but only the Israelite royal residence, how did it become the capital of the Assyrian province of Samerfna? It is Sargon who, in 720/19 BCE at the latest, settled a governor in Samaria althoug Assyrians are primarily interested for economic and military reasons in the coast and the Via Maris (Du'ru), the Jezreel valley and Galilee (Magiddu) and the King's Highway (GaPadi) (Tappy 2001: 546, 552-3). In the mountain, Samaria is secondary in trade, traffic and strategic aspects. But Sargon (re)built Samaria66 and, with new settlers, transformed and enlarged the former dynastic residence for political and propagandistic reasons into the seat of a provincial governor.67 Sargon is therefore the founder of Samaria as a city or capital of the Assyrian province Samerfna.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Ahlstrom, G. W. 1982 Royal Administration and National Religion in Ancient Palestine. Leiden: Brill. ARAB see Luckenbill, D. D. 1926/27 = 1989. Avigad, N. 1993 Samaria (City). NEAEHL 1300-1310. Avigad, N. and Sass, B. 1997 Corpus of West Semitic Stamp Seals. Jerusalem: The Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities, The Israel Exploration Society, The Institute of Archaeology, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Becking, B. 1992 The Fall of Samaria. An Historical and Archaeological Study. SHANE II. Leiden: Brill. 1997 'Assyrian Evidence for Iconic Polytheism in Ancient Israel?' In: Karel van der Toorn ed., The Image and the Book. Contributions to Biblical Exegesis and Theology, 21. Leuven: Peelers, 157-71. 2001 'The Gods, in Whom They Trusted... Assyrian Evidence for Iconic Polytheism in Ancient Israel?' In: Id. et al., eds., Only One God ? Monotheism in Ancient Israel and the Veneration of the Goddess Asherah. Sheffield: SAP, 151-63

66. Khorsabad, Annals 10-17: ... [The city I rebuilt], I made it greater than it was before...; cf. Fuchs 1994: 314 with n. 225; Tappy 2001: 573-4. 67. For Assyrian governors of Samaria between 690 and 646 BCE see Tappy 2001: 57

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Beeston, A. R, Ghul, M. A., Miiller, W. W. and Ryckmans, J. 1982 Sabaic Dictionary. Louvain-la-Neuve: Editions Peeters and Beirut: Librairie du Liban. Black, J., George, A. and Postgate, N. 2000 A Concise Dictionary of Akkadian. SANTAG 5. 2nd (corrected) printing. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Buccellati, G. 1967 Cities and Nations of Ancient Syria. SS 26. Rome: Institute di Studi del Vicino Oriente. Cohen, A. 1973 Palestine in the 18th Century. Patterns of Government and Administration. Jerusalem: The Magnes Press, The Hebrew University. Crowfoot, J. M., Kenyon, K. M. and Sukenik, E. L. 1942 The Buildings at Samaria. (Samaria-Sebaste 1). London: Palestine Exploration Fund. Finkelstein, I. 1984 'The Iron Age "Fortresses" of the Negev Highlands: Sedentarization of the Nomads.' Tel Aviv 11: 189-209. 1988 The Archaeology of the Israelite Settlement. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. 1990 'On Archaeological Methods and Historical Considerations: Iron Age n Gezer and Samaria.' BASOR 277/78: 109-19. 1995 'The Great Transformation. The "Conquest" of the Highlands Frontiers and the Rise of the Territorial States', in: T. E. Levy, ed., Archaeology of Society in the Holy Land. London: Leicester University Press, pp. 349-65. 2000 'Omride Architecture.' Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palastina-Vereins 116: 114-38. Finkelstein, I., Lederman, Z. and Bunimovitz, S. 1997 Highlands of Many Cultures. The Southern Samaria Survey - the Sites. Tel Aviv: Institue of Archaeology. Finkelstein, I. and Magen, Y. eds. 1993 Archaeological Survey of the Hill Country of Benjamin. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Forsberg, Stig 1995 Near Eastern Destruction Datings as Sources for Greek and Near Eastern Iron Age Chronology. Archaeological and Historical Studies. The Cases of Samaria (722 B.C.) and Tarsus (696 B.C.). BOREAS. Uppsala Studies in Ancient Mediterranean and Near Eastern Civilizations, 19. Uppsala: Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis. Franklin, N. 1994 'The Room V Reliefs at Dur-Sharrukin and Sargon's Western Campaigns.' Tel Aviv 21: 255-75. Frick, F. S. 1977 The City in Ancient Israel. SBL Dissertation Series 36. Missoula, MT: Scholars Press. Fuchs, A. 1994 Die Inschriften Sargons II. aus Khorsabad. Gottingen: Cuvillier. de Geus, C. H. J. 2003 Towns in Ancient Israel and in the Southern Levant. Palaestina Antiqua 10. Leuven: Peeters. Grayson, A. K. 2000 Assyrian and Babylonian Chronicles. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns.

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Gordon, C. H. 1965 Ugaritic Textbook. Analecta Orientalia 38. Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute. HAL = Koehler, L. and Baumgartner, W. 1967-95 Hebraisches und Aramaisches Lexikon zum Alten Testament. Leiden: Brill. Hayes, J. H. and J. K. Kuan 1991 'The Final Years of Samaria (730-720 B.C.).' Biblica 72: 153-181. Herzog, Z. 1984 Beer-Sheba II. The Early Iron Age Settlements. Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University, the Institute of Archaeology and Ramot Publishing Co. 1997 Archaeology of the City. Urban Planning in Ancient Israel and its Social Implications. TAU.MS 13. Tel Aviv: Emery and Claire Yass Archaeology Press. Hulst, A. R. 1976 '(fr Stadt.' In: E. Jenni and C. Westerman eds., Theologisches Handworterbuch zum Alten Testament. Vol. 2, Munich: Chr. Kaiser; Zurich: Theologischer Verlag, 268-72. Knauf, E. A. 1982 'Zur Etymologic der Handhieroglyphe.' Gottinger Miszellen 59: 29-39. 1984 'Bemerkungen zum agyptisch-semitischen Sprachvergleich.' Gottinger Miszellen 79: 17-18. 1985 Ismael. Untersuchungen zur Geschichte Palastinas und Nordarabiens im 1. Jahrtausend v. Chr. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. 1986 'Recension to: R. Cohen & G. Schmitt, Drei Studien zur Archaologie und Topographic Altisraels. BTAVO, B 44. Wiesbaden: Reichert.' Zeitschrift des Deutschen Paldstina-Vereins 102: 175-6. 1988 Midian. Untersuchungen zur Geschichte Palastinas und Nordarabiens am Ende des 2. Jahrtausends v.Chr. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. 2006 'Bethel: The Israelite Impact on Judean Language and Literature', in Oded Lipschits and Manfred Oeming (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns), 291-349. Kuan, Jeffrey K. 1995 Neo-Assyrian Historical Inscriptions and Syria-Palestine. JDDS 1. Hong Kong: Alliance Bible Seminary. Lehmann, G. 2004 'Reconstructing the Social Landscape of Early Israel: Rural Marriage Alliances in the Central Hill Country.' Tel Aviv 31: 141-93. Lipinski, Edward 2000 The Aramaeans: Their Ancient History, Culture, Religion. Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta, 100. Leuven, Paris and Sterling, VA: Peeters. Luckenbill, D. D. 1926/27=1989 Ancient Records of Assyria and Babylonia. Vols. I-II: London: Histories & Mysteries of Man. Mazar, A. 1981 'Giloh: An Early Israelite Settlement Site Near Jerusalem.' Israel Exploration Journal 31: 1-36 Miller, J. M. and Hayes, J. H. 1986 A History of Ancient Israel and Judah. Philadelphia: Westminster Press. Na'aman, N. 1990 "The Historical Background to the Fall of Samaria (720 BC).' Biblica 71: 206-25. 1995 'Rezin of Damascus and the Land of Gilead.' Zeitschrift des Deutschen Paldstina-Vereins 111: 105-17. 1998 'Jehu Son of Omri: Legitimizing a Loyal Vassal by his Overlord.' Israel

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Exploration Journal 48: 236-8. 'Samaria.' In: H. G. Betz et al., eds., Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart, 4th edn, Vol. 7, 814-16. Niemann, H. M. 1990 Stadt, Land und Herrschaft. Skizzen und Materialien zur Sozialgeschichte im monarchischen Israel (unpublished). Habilitationsschrift, Theologische Fakultat der Universitat Rostock. 1993a Herrschaft, Konigtum und Staat. Forschungen zum Alten Testament, 6. Tubingen: Mohr. 1993b 'Das Ende des Volkes der Perizziter. Uber soziale Wandlungen Israels im Spiegel einer Begriffsgruppe.' Zeitschrift fur die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 105: 233-57. 1997 'The Socio-political Shadow Cast by the Biblical Solomon.' In: Lowell K. Handy, ed., The Age of Solomon. Scholarship at the Turn of the Millennium. Studies in the History and Culture of the Ancient Near East, 11. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 252-99. 2000 'Megiddo and Solomon: A Biblical Investigation in Relation to Archaeology.' Tel Aviv 27: 61-74. 2001 'Konigtum in Israel.' In: H. G. Betz et al., eds., Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart, 4th edn, Vol. 4, 1593-7. 2006 'Core Israel in the Highlands and its Periphery: Megiddo, the Jezreel Valley and the Galilee in the llth to 8th Centuries BCE.' In: Israel Finkelstein David Ussishkin and Baruch Halpern, eds., Megiddo IV: The 1998-2002 Seasons. Monograph Series of the Institute of Archaeology, Tel Aviv University, 24. Tel Aviv: Emery and Claire Yass Archaeology Publications in Archaeology, 821-42. Olivier, J. P. J. 1983 'In Search of a Capital for the Northern Kingdom.' JNWSL 11: 117-32. Otto, E. 1987 'cfr' In: H.-J.Fabry and H. Ringgren, eds., Theologisches Worterbuch zum Alten Testament. Vol. VI. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 55-74. Reisner, G. A., C. S. Fisher and D. G. Lyon 1924 Harvard Excavations at Samaria (1908-1910). Vols. 1-2. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Riiterworden, U. 1985 Die Beamten der israelitischen Konigszeit: eine Studie zu sr und vergleichbaren Begriffen. BWANT 117; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer. Stager, L. E. 1990 'Shemer's Estate.' Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 277/278: 93-108. Tappy, R. E. 1992 The Archaeology of Israelite Samaria. Vol. I: Early Iron Age through the Ninth Century BCE. Harvard Semitic Studies, 44. Atlanta, GA: Scholar Press. 2001 The Archaeology of Israelite Samaria. Vol. II: The Eighth Century BCE. Harvard Semitic Studies, 50. Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press. Timm, S. 1989/90 'Die Eroberung Samarias aus assyrisch-babylonischer Sicht.' Welt des Orients 20/21: 62-82. 2003 'Ein assyrisch bezeugter Tempel in Samaria?' In: U. Hiibner and E. A. Knauf, eds., Kein Land fur sich allein. Studien zum Kulturkontakt in Kanaan, Israel/ Palastina und Ebirndri fur Manfred Weippert zum 65. Geburtstag. Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis, 186. Freiburg: Universitatsverlag and Gottingen: 2004

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Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 126-33. Uehlinger, C. 1987

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Weippert, H. 1977 1988

'"Zeichne eine Stadt... und belagere sie!".' In: M. Kuchler and C. Uehlinger, eds., Jerusalem. Texte-Bilder-Steine. Festschrift fur H. und O. Keel-Leu. Novum Testamentum et Orbis Antiquus, 6. Freiburg: Universitatsverlag and Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 111-200. 'Anthropomorphic Cult Statuary in Iron Age Palestine and the Search for Yahweh's Cult Images.' In: Karel van der Toorn, ed., The Image and the Book. Contributions to Biblical Exegesis and Theology, 21. Leuven: Peeters, 97-155. '"...und wo sind die Cotter von Samarien?".' In: M. Dietrich and I. Kottsieper, eds., "Und Mose schrieb dieses Lied auf". Festschrift fur O. Loretz. Munster: Ugarit-Verlag, 739-76 'Samaria.' In: K. Galling, ed., Biblisches Reallexikon. Handbuch zum Alten Testament I/I. Tubingen: Mohr, 265-9. Palastina in vorhellenistischer Zeit. Handbuch der Archaologie n/1. Munich: Beck.

Younger, K. L. 1999 'The Fall of Samaria in Light of Recent Research.' Catholic Biblical Quarterly 61: 461-82. Zertal, A. 1992 The Manassseh Hill Country Survey. The Shechem Syncline. Haifa. 1994 '"To the Land of the Perizzites and the Giants". On the Israelite Settlement in the Hill Country of Manasseh.' In: I. Finkelstein and N. Na'aman, eds., From Nomadism to Monarchy. Archaeological and Historical Aspects of Early Israel. Jerusalem, 47-69. 2004 The Manasseh Hill Country. Vol. 1: The Shechem Syncline. Culture and History of the Ancient Near East, 21.1. Leiden and Boston: Brill.

WHAT is IN A TEXT? - SEARCHING FOR JEZEBEL Dagmar Pruin 1. Introduction The historical reconstruction of an epoch already contains a whole array of problems - however, these problems seem to increase if such a reconstruction focuses on a single figure even with a particularly prominent reception-history.1 Of course it is equally mandatory here to evaluate the complete textual data and the historical panorama as a whole but the historical focus on a single female figure from the Hebrew Bible gives special attention to the biblical tradition. This is, however, not a methodological a priori but rather a fact due to the nature of our enquiry. Of course, we will have to discuss whether and in which manner the writings of Menander Ephesius reported in Josephus2 and a seal, first published in 1964, bearing the letters yzbl3 can be used as external evidence. Also the thesis of a possible office of a Gebirah, which can be found throughout the whole Ancient Near East, has to be evaluated in regard to its usefulness for a clarification of the historical picture of Jezebel.4 At the same time, however - and that must be stressed right from the beginning - disregarding the biblical evidence partly or in its entirety would make the question of a royal wife bearing the name Jezebel at the court of Omri in Israel impossible to answer. The point of departure of our investigation can only be the biblical text, to which special attention has to be paid. This does not mean that I am attempting to pitch my tent in the camp of the 'maximalists'5 - but it is a necessary prerequisite due to the nature of the textual basis for our investigation. Nevertheless, a certain caution in view of methodological questions regarding the use of a biblical text is definitely in order.

1. For an analysis of the reception-history of the biblical portrait of Jezebel in the North-American context see Gaines (1999). 2. See Josephus, Ant. 8.324. 3. Avigad (1964: 274-6). 4. See Ahlstrom (1993: 587). 5. For a definition cf. Smelik (1992: 3-4).

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2. Looking at Past Research: the Historical Figure becomes a Literary One If one looks at the studies of the history of Israel published over the last few decades, one realizes that the historical figure of Jezebel tends to move more and more into the background. In the older works - despite the different views of the Omride dynasty - Jezebel was painted as a powerful historical person.6 Recently, however, this picture is exchanged for a pale historical sketch. The reason for this fading of the historical figure is the critical look at diachronic questions within the book of Kings and especially the scholarly thesis of a Deuteronomistic redaction. Passages previously regarded as containing historical material are now attributed to redaction, which in turn often means negating almost any historicity. For example, in contrast to older studies, the recent histories of Israel from the pen of N. P. Lemche and J. H. Hayes and J. M. Miller qualify any historical kernel within the statements regarding the figure of Jezebel.7 J. A. Soggin follows the path further by postulating that the figure of Jezebel might be a literary figure fused with an anonymous Phoenician wife of Ahab.8 D. Kinet even moves beyond such considerations and declares that the biblical Jezebel is simply a literary fiction, which would mean that the exact name of the (Phoenician?) wife of Ahab would be unknown.9 The historical person becomes a literary figure who can be moved into the realm of 'fiction' - even including her name. Leaving aside the problems regarding the exact meaning of fiction, does such an approach seem to point to wrong alternatives? And is it not possible to arrive at a less general assessment by looking at the material in a detailed synchronic and diachronic way?

3. Jezebel as a Literary Figure, or: the Historical Figure is a Literary One Before addressing the question regarding the use of the biblical text as a primary, secondary or even tertiary source for the reconstruction of the Omride history, we need to direct our attention to the proper methodology to be used when dealing with a biblical text. A possible historical figure is - within the biblical traditions - first and foremost a literary figure. Therefore we can only focus on the question of historicity after all dimensions of the literary figure have been evaluated in detail. Hence, it is necessary to start with a detailed synchronic and diachronic

6. Older scholarship on the figure of Jezbel generally depends on the overarching structure of the reconstruction of the Omride period. A. Alt in his study (1954) views the solution of the problematic relationship between Israel and Canaan as the key to understanding the period - thus Jezebel is seen primarily as a Canaanite woman. For further examples see Pruin (2006: 59-118). 7. See Lemche (1986: 157-9), Miller and Hayes (1986: 250-94). 8. Cf. Soggin (1999: 235). 9. Cf. Kinet (2001: 113 n. 242).

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exegesis of the biblical text, which pays close attention to the complex profile of the final form of the biblical text as well as to the literary history behind the biblical tradition. Here, the text of the Hebrew Bible has to be regarded firstly as literature and only secondarily as a possible historical source. If we are asking for the possible historical usefulness of the texts, we especially need to bracket out such questions during our literary analysis. 4. Synchronic Analysis: a Picture Too Good to be True? If we look at the biblical narrative from a synchronic perspective, a picture emerges that is almost too good to be true. Elijah and Jezebel are portrayed as opponents in the battle for true religion in Israel. The Phoenician princess is responsible for the introduction of Baal worship in Israel, while the prophet of YHWH heroically fights for his God. Here we have striking correspondences between the names and the views of the protagonists and the course of events within the narrative. For example, already the name of Jezebel ('Baal carries')10 and the name of her opponent Elijah ('My God is YHWH')11 seem to refer to the closure of the narrative about the Omride dynasty. Both characters carry their faith in their god in their names. However, Baal does not deliver the faith put in him - he will not exist in Israel (1 Kgs 18)12 and his cult will be destroyed (2 Kgs 10) - while the God of Elijah will demonstrate all his might by revealing himself as the true God of Israel. Moving beyond Elijah and Jezebel we find similar proverbial names of the other protagonists: Thus Jezebel's father is called Ethbaal ('Baal is with him') and the Omride dynasty is destroyed by the usurper Jehu son of Jehoshaphat ('son of YHWH who has judged') - in his family reference his own actions are presupposed. With a closer look - and that means focusing on Jezebel - the coherent picture shows its first cracks. In view of the connection between Jezebel and the worship of foreign gods there remain several inconsistencies. Firstly, we find a certain simultaneity of events. The literary tension created by introduction of the worship of Baal in 1 Kgs 16.31 is solved in the narrative of 2 Kgs 9-10. As long as Jezebel lives, Baal is worshipped in Israel. Secondly the text seems to be reluctant to link events. For example, the introductory formula does not explicitly link Ahab's marriage to Jezebel with the introduction of the worship of Baal in Israel - despite the fact that the following narrative seems to suggest such a connection. Also, the altar/temple of Baal is neither in the introduction of Ahab (1 Kgs 16.29-33) nor in the narrative about its destruction (2 Kgs 10.18-27) tied to Jezebel. Rather, Omri 10. For further discussions of the name see below. 11. Cf. Koehler and Baumgartner (1967-90: 53). The vowel i between the two parts of the sentence is most likely a suffix and not a simple linking vowel. 12. The narrative of the ordeal by fire (1 Kgs 18.21-40) is characterized by monotheistic statements so that we find a parody of the divine full of mockery. Cf. Kockert (2003: 129-30).

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and Ahab are blamed for their worship of Baal in 1 Kgs 18.18. In the course of the events on Mt Carmel it is reported, that 450 prophets of Baal and 400 prophets of Asherah eat at the table of Jezebel. Next to the editorial comments in 1 Kgs 21.25, this is the only instance where Jezebel is explicitly linked with the worship of foreign gods. What remains open in the introduction is only made explicit here. 2 Kgs 9.22 points to further connection but only in an implicit way: during Jehu's coup he justifies the murder of king Joram by referring to the 'whoredoms and sorceries' of his mother. Thus the connection of Jezebel with the worship of foreign gods in Israel is anything but clear. If one returns from this closer look to a slightly more distant bird's eye view the striking correspondence described above is also destroyed in other places: the sons of Ahab and Jezebel bear theophoric names, i.e. names that contain a reference to YHWH: Ahaziah -'YHWH has protected'13 - and Joram - 'JHWH is exalted'; despite the fact that, according to 2 Kgs, the younger son in his affliction turns to Baal-zebub, the god of Ekron, and that the older one, in the view of the narrator, does not seem to be an example of faith in YHWH. 5. Diachronic Analysis. The Literary Growth of the Biblical Tradition In the following I will present the results of my diachronic analysis as elaborated in more detail in my doctoral research.14 I am well aware that the diachronic analysis and the dating of texts resulting from it remains quite speculative. This hypothetical level is further intensified by the short and thesis-like presentation of just the results that do not allow a detailed argument for each exegetical decision. Since a diachronic analysis provides the - in my opinion - irreplaceable basis for any historical evaluation, we cannot neglect the description of the process of the literary growth of the text under scrutiny. The diachronic analysis shows a clear literary growth of the texts dealing with the Omride dynasty. This growth happened over several centuries (ninth century to fourth century BCE). Jezebel is not the main motivation for such a growth, nevertheless like Elijah she gains her special profile in the course of several redactions. The coup of Jehu represents the oldest kernel of the narrative (2 Kgs 9.16*,10b-22bcc, 23-28, 30-35; 10.2-9, 12-14, 17a). This kernel can be dated to the beginning of the dynasty of Jehu in the ninth century BCE. Here Jezebel is portrayed as the one who formulates the harshest critique of the usurper, while at the same time her dignified behaviour is ridiculed by the description of her shameful death. Within the narrative the oracle of doom against Ahab in 2 Kgs 9.26a is an older piece of text that can be placed in the time of Ahab's reign. By using the word of God (spoken by Jehu) against Ahab, the narrator legitimates the annihilation of the Omride dynasty by the hand of Jehu.

13. Cf. HALAT 1, p. 32. 14. Cf. Pruin (2006: 132-300).

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The old fragment in 1 Kgs 18.19a, 20a, 41-46, which paints Elijah as a bringer of rain, can also be dated to the time of Ahab. This tradition differs from all other texts since it demonstrates a friendly relationship between the Israelite king and the prophet. The narrative of Naboth's vineyard (1 Kgs 21.1-16, 17-20aba)15 has to be dated in the eighth and seventh centuries BCE. The narrative deals with the breakdown of the juridical community. It accuses the ruling couple Ahab and Jezebel of abusing their royal powers and the law. Furthermore, the narrative accuses the nobles of the city of Jezreel of supporting the evil behaviour and thus failing to be a juridical community. In contrast to the anonymous oracle of doom in 2 Kgs 9.26a it is now Elijah who criticises the Omride ruler. The already existing literary connection of the kernel of the narrative with Naboth's vineyard in 2 Kgs 9.26a will be developed further later. On the one hand, the narrative of Naboth's vineyard tells a story that blames Jezebel for the death of Naboth. On the other hand 2 Kgs 9 and 10 already contained a narrative that describes the death and non-burial of the royal daughter in every detail, which leads to the creation of an announcement of doom against Jezebel (1 Kgs 21.23 (par.)) structured along the same lines as the older one against Ahab (1 Kgs 21.19b). In a second step this announcement is transferred to the dynasty of Ahab as a whole (1 Kgs 21.24). The formation (and probably also the redactional addition of 1 Kgs 21.23-24) can possibly be placed in preDeuteronomistic times, but the current system of announcement and fulfilment points clearly to a Deuteronomistic redaction. The system of announcement and fulfilment structures the picture of Ahab and Jezebel that emerges from the Deuteronomistic composition - a picture that creates a close connection between the story of Naboth's vineyard and the coup of Jehu. Already in the Deuteronomistic introductory formula (1 Kgs 16.30) Ahab is accused of doing 'evil in the sight of YHWH' - the same phrase now used to introduce the juridical speech in 1 Kgs 21.20*-24 that accuses the Omride ruler and his dynasty and labels every action of his as evil. The repetition of the accusation against the dynasty of Ahab and against Jezebel (2 Kgs 21.21b, 22-23) in the narrative of the coup of Jehu (2 Kgs 9.8b, 9, lOa) and the several notes referring to the fulfilment (2 Kgs 9.36; 10.10,17) creates new narratological and compositional structures. Thus a system of causalities is created whose evaluation is fixed by the introductory formula. Thus the murder of the Jezreelite no longer stands alone but justifies the downfall of the Omride dynasty. The gruesome actions of Jehu need to be evaluated in the light of the injustices done by the ruling couple. Thus the interwoven relations enlarge the meaning of both texts at the same time as these relations fix the evaluation of the two narratives in 1 Kgs 21.1-20aba and 2 Kgs 9-10. Here: 'Die Nachzeichung der Gleichzeitigkeit des Ungleichzeitigen, die Verschrankung von Fort- und Riickschritt'.16 This means that every future 15. In 1 Kgs 21.1-20aba we have a literary unit created from a written tradition consisting of w. 1-16 and the older Drohwort (v. 19b). In detail cf. Pruin (2006: 205-11). 16. Weippert (1991: 124).

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action contains something of the past and every past action contains an aspect of the future (Koselleck, 1995). The double appearance of the announcement of doom for Jezebel corresponds to the detailed description of her death. When reading the kernel of the narrative one is forced to ask whether such a complete destruction of a royal daughter is justified: in contrast to that the elements of announcement and fulfilment provide the reader with a guideline to the gruesome death of Jezebel: Jezebel meets the fate she deserves - the proud daughter of a king is the one who murders Naboth and takes his land. Furthermore, by inserting the scene of Ahab's repentance (1 Kgs 21.27-29), the Deuteronomists create an Omride ruler who is a person who recognizes his sin and turns around. Elijah, who - in the textual structure of the eighth and seventh centuries BCE - is a classic prophet of judgment and acts in oppositio to the king is transformed by the Deuteronomistic construction into an admonishing voice whom the king follows. In a second step the story of the annihilation of the cult of Baal (2 Kgs 10.1827) is added to the narrative of 2 Kgs 9-10*. The goal of the narrative as a whole shifts: Now the climax of Jehu's actions is the annihilation of the cult of Baal and his followers and no longer the extinction of the Omride dynasty. The coup is transformed into a revolution.17 As in the introductory formula "?IQn is not determined any further and the god remains without characteristic features since the term is simply used as a cipher for the worship of foreign gods in general.18 In 1 Kgs 16.31 Ahab is responsible for his marriage to Jezebel; a late Deuteronomistic note (1 Kgs 21.25-26), however, re-evaluates his relationship with his wife. Now it is Jezebel who is the one who seduces her husband to worship of foreign gods. Chapters 17-19 are post-Deuteronomistic additions. After the fusion of the old fragment in 1 Kgs 18.19a,20a,41-46 with the post-exilic narrative of the ordeal by fire in 1 Kgs 18.21-40 (a fusion done by inserting 1 Kgs 18.19bcc, 20b), the story of the draught is created as a prelude to the ordeal by fire. Both texts are joined by the remark that prophets of Baal and Asherah dine at Jezebel's table (1 Kgs 18.19bp). The narrative of the sacrifices reports the uselessness and non-existence of Baal. The Deuteronomistic version previously added the scene of the annihilation of Baal worship to the coup of Jehu and simply labelled the Baal's place of the worship as a latrine. The post-Deuteronomistic intensification uses the narrative to stress that Baal does not exist. In the current structure of the text Jehu still annihilates the worship of Baal but the narrative stresses that this worship focused on a god that did not exist. In this prelude Jezebel is portrayed as the analogue to the widow of Zarephath. The widow offers food to the prophet Elijah (1 Kgs 17.10-16), 17. The same hand adds the expansion of the oracle against Jezebel in 2 Kgs 9.37. Here the end of Jezebel and the annihilation of the cult of Baal are set parallel to each other using similar scatology. The corpse of Jezebel 'shall be like dung on the field' and the house of Baal shall be made to 'a latrine to this day' (2 Kgs 10.27). 18. Cf. Spieckermann (1982: 200).

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while Jezebel caters for the prophets of Baal and Asherah (1 Kgs 18.19*). In the story of the drought, Elijah is the opponent of Ahab and holds the Omride ruler responsible for the disaster that befell Israel. In contrast to the narrative of the seventh and eighth centuries BCE in which Elijah criticized Ahab becaus of his injustices against Naboth, he is now - on a post-Deuteronomistic level - afighterfor monotheism in Israel. In an additional step, certain notes regarding Jezebel as persecutor of the prophets are written into the text (1 Kgs 18.3b-4, 12-14), before 1 Kgs 19.13acc connects the narrative of the mountain of God with the story of the drought. The references to Jezebel function as the tie to the Elijah-cycle; thus the picture of a powerful opponent of Elijah emerges. The person responsible for the worship of foreign gods becomes the persecutor of the prophets of the true God and makes Elijah's triumph on Mt Carmel a preliminary one. In conclusion we can say the following: The diachronic analysis of the texts shows literary growth over several centuries. The Deuteronomistic and postDeuteronomistic part of the origin of the text is not simply restricted to several small additions to an already existing context. Rather, those redactors create the causal connection of announcement and fulfilment (Deuteronomistic) or the addition of the literary complex 1 Kgs 17-19 (post-Deuteronomistic). The religious aspect is only added by the Deuteronomistic redaction of the texts.19 Here a picture of the Omride dynasty is painted that differs significantly from the one in the older tradition.20 The hints given by the Deuteronomists are made more concrete by later hands, which give the text a decisive monotheistic perspective. First it is Ahab who is responsible for the introduction of Baal worship; in later times that picture changes by moving Jezebel to the fore and making her a threat to all followers of YHWH. The picture of Jezebel is sharpened on the last level of the tradition and seems to grow from back to front. The oldest narrative portrays her as a proud daughter of a king, who is the only one of the protagonists who fearlessly steps up to Jehu, calls him 'Zimri' and in doing so questions the legitimacy of his actions (2 Kgs 9.31). At the same time her derisive question is counteracted by her total destruction. The narrators of the eighth or seventh century BCE show her as the loya wife of Ahab, who in cooperation with her husband and the elites of Jezreel rob Naboth of his land and life. Here, she acts in the background and has to abuse the seal and the power of her husband, whereas in post-Deuteronomistic times she is portrayed as the powerful opponent of Elijah who has great power and can act independently of her husband. 19. Different Otto (2001: 71-3) and Beck (1999: 199), who regard the basic layer of the scene of the annihilation of the cult of Baal as part of the old narrative. 20. Older Deuteronomistic hands had already justified the gruesome acts of the usurper Jehu by connecting this episode with Naboth's vineyard; however, Jehu is further legitimated by later Deuteronomists because he is seen as the destroyer of the cult of Baal, introduced by Ahab. The same hands added the note on Jezebel's 'whoredoms and sorceries' in 2 Kgs 9.22bp.

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6. Historical inquiry - Methodological Considerations As the diachronic analysis has shown, the rifts in the biblical picture can be explained with the literary growth of the biblical tradition. Those rifts point to older texts and traditions that show contours of the time of Omri that differ from the picture of the younger traditions. The redaction of older texts, be it via short commentary-like remarks or by larger literary operations and by placing existing texts into a new order can be - following A. and J. Assmann - understood as an 'increase of texts' (Vermehrung der Texte).21 Redactional elements do not simply comment on past traditions but also create 'new' history from 'new' stories, since the social memory is focused. In view of such a process and by looking at theoretical considerations regarding the production of history we must avoid a simple and schematic procedure when conducting a historical enquiry. First of all we have to stress that 'history' does not exist as an entity outside the human consciousness and simply has to be absorbed by it.22 'History' cannot be found in sources but is constructed in the work of the historian. Here one has to take into account that epistemologically there is no fixed border between the objective repetition of facts and their interpretation because reality is never looked at directly but always from a certain perspective and is thus reproduced in reduced statements.23 Those perspectives always belong to the interpretative framework and never to reality as such. Thus the statement that something is a fact is nothing more than regarding a certain description as adequate. History is a product of language,24 but does not equal language. Thus, the antagonism of research into history (Geschichtsforschung] and the description of history (Geschichtsdarstellung) is dissolved25 but at the same time as difference between facts and fiction has to be maintained. There is a certain difference between narratives that report what really happened or state what could have happened or that claim that something could have happened or that bracket out any reference to reality.26 In the light of the above demonstrated degree of growth of the biblical text it is impossible to simply ask for historicity by juxtaposing facts and fiction, true or false and thus using the biblical text as a quarry for facts. Such procedure is in danger of regarding secondary literary material per se as historically wrong 21. 'Die notwendige Adaption der Tradition, die in der Gedachtniskultur unmerklich durch bestandige Scharfeinstellungen der Praventivzensur vorgenommen wird, fuhrt im literalen Kontext zu einer potentiell unendlichen Vermehrung der Texte' Assmann and Assmann (1983: 279). The term 'increase' (Vermehrung) should not be understood quantitatively, since the work of the redactors of the Hebrew Bible consisted of selection and reduction. 22. Riisen(1983:58). 23. Cf. Koselleck (1995: 280) with references to the work of J. M. Chladenius. 24. For the so-called 'linguistic turn' see Iggers (1997: 87-96). 25. Cf. Koselleck (1995: 280) and Liwak (1987: 6). Koselleck speaks in this context of the 'perspective fiction of factuality' (p. 283) and the 'factuality of fiction' (p. 284).

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and thus impossible to use for any historical enquiry because such literary additions seem to represent a wrong reading of the older material. On the contrary it is necessary to take the later redactors as first readers of the older traditions seriously. Only because the redactors of the older material regarded this material as significant is it still available to us. Only because of the inner-biblical reception history of the older textual material has this material been handed down to us. At the same time we have to stress that the basic layer of the text and its different redactional strata do represent different layers of text and time and that they can be influenced by different intentions. Thus we have to investigate whether the different information about Jezebel can be used as primary or secondary source for the period under scrutiny and whether they can be evaluated as historical witnesses to their time of origin or whether they are simply redactional notes that were necessary to clarify certain circumstances. Here one has to decide for the most probable scenario,27 which can only be an approximation of historical reality; such approximation is determined by the nature of the material as well as by the discipline as such.28 7. 'What's In a Name?' The interpretation of Semitic names bears several difficulties. Since, however, the name is already under suspicion of fictionality but at the same time the thesis of Jezebel as a literary figure and the interpretation of her name seem to influence each other, it seems advisable to start here with some considerations as well as highlighting the recent discussion.29 To state the conclusion right at the beginning: there is simply no evidence to place the name in the realm of fantasy, if one places the name in the context of West Semitic names. Therefore, recent interpretations as offered by J. A. Soggin ('the one without glory')30 and K. S. Lee ('a heap of shit')31 can be neglected. The interpretation 'where is prince (Baal)' is quite popular in modern scholarship.32 When looking at this interpretation we have to consider the word to be a compound consisting of two different elements: the second part is to be determined as zbl. Next to the meaning of qal 'to rise'33 or possibly 26. Koselleck (1995: 281). 27. On the category of probability see Grabbe (1997: 29-30). 28. Grabbe (1997: 21-2). 29. My sincere thanks to Prof. Josef Tropper for several helpful suggestions for the discussion. 30. Cf. Soggin (1999: 235) and Kinet (2001: 113 n. 242). 31. Cf. Lee (1998: 137). 32. Cf. Timm (1995: 241); Trible (1994: 170); Thiel (2000: 124) and HALAT I, p. 38, 'Wo ist der Prinz?'. 33. Cf. Gesenius (1987-95: 293), with reference to Akkadian zabalu and ugaritic zbl, cf. HALAT I, p. 252.

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'to rule over'34, we find the derivate 'exalted dwelling place'.35 At Ugarit, zbl (possibly vocalized as zabul(u}) 'prince', 'noble' is found.36 Against this background it is reasonable to translate Hebrew as 'prince' as proposed by HALAT37 (cf. also Amorite za-bu-lum and zu-ba-la-an). In reference to KTU2 1.6.IV 4-5 and 15-16, where Baal is called zbl39 and the translation of as 'where?'39 it is likely that the etymology of the name is simply: 'where is prince (Baal)?'. However, this interpretation has to be questioned for several reasons. w First of all, the female Punic name is hardly ever referred to in the discussion, despite the obvious similarity. Also little attention is paid to a seal first published by N. Avigad in 1964. The seal of the Voss-Hahn collection bears signs of Egyptian-Phoenician style41 and carries the name yzbl*2 thus providing a different set of consonants. It is likely that the seal has to be dated in the ninth or eighth century BCE. Due to the different consonants one is tempted not to use the seal for any etymological considerations, but the Septuagint transliterates the name as letccBeA, thus pointing to a different consonantal Vorlage instead of If one places this Punic name next to the Masoretic tradition, the consonants of the seal and the LXX, we find a common denominator in the reconstructed form This name would then consist of a theophoric element and a verbal form (Piel?) of - thus, we could translate 'Baal carries' or 'Baal has carried'. In the name the theophoric element would have dropped when the name was shortened - a process found in other contexts as well. Here it is likely that the theophoric element continued to be thought of without explicitly mentioning it. The form as it exists today would then represent a vocal simplification, which occurs elsewhere in the Aramaic-speaking world.43 A deliberate pejorative interpretation by the Masoretes seems unlikely, but not impossible. However, in view of the term 'dung' attested in later Hebrew44 (cf. Arabic zibl, zibla)45 and the word = 'island' we would have the result of an explicit negative connotation that has its point of departure in 2 Kgs 9.37a ('the corpse of Jezebel shall be like dung on the field in the territory of Jezreel'). As in the Rabbinic interpretation46 the increasingly 34. Cf. Clines (1993-2001: 81). 35. HALAT I, p. 252. 36. Cf. also Held (1968: 90-6), esp. p. 92; Olmo Lete/Sammartin (2003: 998). 37. HALAT I, p. 252. 38. Cf. Dietrich, Loretz and Sammartin (1995: 1.6. IV 4-5 and 15-16). 39. Cf. Ges18, pp. 43-4. 40. Cf.Donner/R6llig(1966:67). 41. The solar / royal motive of the seal points to an elite bearer. 42. Cf. Avigad (1964: 274-6) and the picture in Uehlinger (1994: 91). 43. Cf. Noeldecke (1966: §40.C). 44. Cf. Levy (1963: 510), 'Mist, Koth'. 45. Cf.Wehr(1985:517b). 46. Cf. for example Babylonian Talmud Sanhedrin 39b and 102ab, Palestinian Talmud Sanhedrin X.2.28b, Genesis Rabba 64.8.

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negative interpretation of Jezebel would have been continued.47 Here, however, we have the use of a different noun and recent years have taught us a certain scepticism regarding the postulation of tendentious Masoretic corrections.48 Against the background of these considerations I think it is unlikely to assume an artificial name. Even if one does not want to use the seal as external evidence it is possible to interpret the name within the context of West Semitic names. The rather absurd interpretation 'heap of dung' at a first glance is not impossible on the Masoretic level of the text, but this is not an argument against the historicity of the name as such. Lastly, the theophoric element stands in the background but is not expressed explicitly. If one wanted to create an artificial name one could have been much more explicit! Thus the thesis of an artificial name can be refuted, but the previously mentioned correspondence between the names of Jezebel and Elijah and the events described remains. Therefore, on a synchronic level the thesis of Jezebel as a purely literary figure makes good sense and seems plausible. The diachronic analysis, however, is able to differentiate a bit more. The fact that we do not find any correspondence between the events described and the meaning of the names in the oldest texts, i.e. in the passages describing the coup of Jehu, in the old fragment of 1 Kgs 18.19a, 20a, 41-46 and in the narrative of Naboth's vineyard (only in the last stages of the tradition are Jezebel and Elijah painted as opponents on a structural level), makes it more likely that not only the name Elijah but also Jezebel provide one of many points of departure for the literary growth of the tradition.49 It cannot be excluded for sure that an unknown prophet and an unknown queen were later called by such telling names;50 however, in light of the interpretation of the name presented here, and the seal, it seems highly likely that a woman bearing such a name can be found at the court of the Omride ruler. The name Elijah, too, is possible within the context of the ninth century BCE since he does not necessarily have to point to an exclusive programme of monotheism or monolatry because it is entirely possible that the name is simply an expression of personal piety, which is always structured monolatrically.51 At the same time the name is open to a monolatric interpretation. Already the author of Naboth's vineyard places Jezebel and Elijah on opposite ends of the law. Who would be more suitable for the combat between YHWH and Baal as a person whose name could be understood by later redactors as being part of a monolatric programme? And who, one wonders, would be a better opponent than Jezebel whose name carries obvious associations with Baal. 47. Cf. Pruin (2006: 332-63). 48. Cf. Schorch (2000: 598-611). 49. Of course there is always the possibility that the name Jezebel (in contrast to the name Elijah) was misunderstood by the redactors. 50 All exegetes who assume this think of an artificial name. Ahlstrom (1993: 574 n. 3.) translates the name as 'no glory' and assumes that Jezebel was not the proper name of the royal wife. 'I would prefer to see Jezebel as an intentional "misspelling" (and possibly a dirty pun) of the queen's real name, which has not been preserved.' 51. Cf. Kockert (2003: 142).

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Let us remain for a while in the sphere of names and return to the larger context of the Omride dynasty. Much has been speculated about the name and its indeterminate origin. Because of the difficult name - Assyrian Humri(a) - and the lack of a father, M. Noth had already assumed that it points to a foreigner as the founder of the dynasty.52 Furthermore, the lack of a father shows an obvious degradation, not only in the Hebrew Bible (cf. the usurper Zimri (1 Kgs 16.9-10)) but also in surrounding cultures: Hazael of Damascus, for example, is labelled as mar la mammana 'son of a nobody' in Assyrian sources.53 Additionally, a close reading of the texts sharpens the eye for text-immanent dimensions. Thus, a synchronic analysis is able to show that we have a conscientious confrontation of the fatherless founder of a dynasty with its destroyer 'Jehu son of Jehoshaphat son of Nimshi' (2 Kgs 9.2, 14) who does not only carry a meaningful paternal name but is also honoured by the name of his grandfather. A diachronic analysis is able to demonstrate more that the filiation 'son Jehoshaphat' has been added at a very late stage, since it intensifies the intentions of the Deuteronomistic narrator and is still missing in the post-Deuteronomistic text of 1 Kgs 19.16. Against this background the missing reference to the father should be understood as an intentional insult and does not point to a foreign descent of the dynasty's founder.

8. The End of the Omride Dynasty After this consideration we will now take a closer look at the question of the historical Jezebel in the oldest layer of the text 2 Kgs 9-10, a text that can be dated to the time of Jehu and thus in relative chronological closeness to the events reported by it, namely the annihilation of the Omride dynasty and the murder of Ahaziah, king of Judah. The structure of the narrative as a whole provides the coordinates for the historical investigation. A narratological analysis can stress that the narrative aims at legitimating Jehu, for example, by integrating an older prophetic word against Ahab in 2 Kgs 9.26a and stressing the responsibility of other actors: the commanders of the army (2 Kgs 9.11-13), the two horsemen sent by Joram (2 Kgs 9.17b-20a), the servants of Jezebel (2 Kgs 9.32-33) and the ruling elite of Samaria (2 Kgs 10.1b-9) who terminate their loyalty to the Omride rulers. Simultaneously, members of the Omride royal household voice other perspectives of the narrative. Joram, for example, labels the actions of Jehu as nO"ID = treason (2 Kgs 9.23b) and Jezebel calls him a 'Zimri, murderer of your master' (2 Kgs 9.31). Thus, Jehu is disqualified and the breach of trust by Jehu S4 is addressed. With the help of the polyvalent Leitword which conveys different meanings on different literary levels, the author is able to refute these

52. Noth (1950: 210); Cf. also Lemche (1988: 159). 53. Cf. Na'aman (1998: 237). 54. Cf. Olyan (1984: 652-68).

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views of the events.55 It is not Jehu who questions the in Israel, but the Omride royal household itself beginning with Ahab, since YHWH himself will avenge the blood of Naboth | Piel).56 Despite the fact that the author is able to qualify the views of the other actors, a certain ambivalence remains in the narrative. Here, it is possible that the author reacts to the critical questions posed by his readers who question the acts of Jehu. Such an interpretation, however, presupposes that Jehu did indeed kill the Omride royal household as well as the king of Judah. The fragments of the stele from Tell Dan seem to stand in contrast to this text. If one follows the interpretation of the first editors (Biran and Naveh),57 the text seems to prove the note in 2 Kgs 9.14b, 15a correct, which talks about a battle between Israel and Damascus that preceded the death of Joram and Ahaziah.58 On the other hand, the text seems to disagree with the biblical account in 2 Kgs 9-10 since the stele talks about Hazael and not Jehu as being responsible for the death of Ahaziah and Joram.59 Is it therefore not likely that the question of a possible historicity within the events narrated in 2 Kgs 9-10 can be neglected? Whoever wants to argue along these lines relies too heavily on the possible proof offered by the inscriptional evidence. Admittedly, it could be possible that the different parts of the inscriptions belong to the same stele60 and palaeographic and epigraphic evidence point to a time of origin during the 9th century BCE.61 Nevertheless, such an interpretation assumes simply one order of the fragments instead of looking for the only possible one. The same can be said for the interpretation of the fragmentary names as Ahaziah of Judah and Joram of Israel as well as for the interpretation of the order of the letters bytdwd62 and the question of the authorship of the stele.63 In the light of the difficulties the dating and interpretation of the fragments from Tell Dan remain on the same hypothetical level as the diachronic analysis, the interpretation and dating of the basic layer in 2 Kgs 9-10. Therefore

55. Cf. Pruin (2006: 179-90). 56. The post-Deuteronomistic addition in 2 Kgs 9.22b|3 intensifies this tendency and depicts Jezebel as the person mainly responsible for the disturbance of in Israel. However, the clumsy addition clashes with the dynamics of the narrative, which focuses on Jehu, Joram and the loyalty of the cavalry. 57. Cf. the first edition of Biran and Naveh (1993: 81-98) and (1995: 1-18). 58. Cf. Kottsieper (1998: 485); Schniedewind (1996: 85). 59. For such a view see Kottsieper (1998: 475-500) and Lipiriski (2000: 378-80). 60. Cf. Lemaire (1998: 3-14), a different position is presented by Becking (1999: 187-201). For further discussions cf. Wesselius (2001: 83-103). 61. Cf. Dietrich (1997: 137). 62. Cf. illustration and transcription in Biran and Naveh (1993: 87-9). 63. Cf. for example the discussion between Becking (1999) and Wesselius (2001: 87-91).

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they can equally be regarded as a primary or a secondary source.64 Even if it would be possible to reconstruct the stele beyond all doubt and if it would then clearly attest the names of Joram and Ahaziah such an attestation would not automatically possess a greater historical value than the oldest layer of the narrative in 2 Kgs 9-10, since this text is characterized by its ambivalent attitude towards Jehu. It is impossible to decide who really killed the two kings. Nevertheless, the existence of the fragments of the stele has to be taken into account for a reconstruction of the historical Jezebel, since our question becomes a sharper methodological focus in the light of the sources available: We will not ask whether the events reported in 2 Kgs 9-10 can be verified historically, but simply whether reasons can be found why a contemporary author decided to portray Jezebel in such a way. If we compare the description of her death with the death of other actors (and Joram is a king no less!), we realize that this event is intended to occupy a prominent place within the context of the narrative. Her death expresses a decisive break within the narrative. It is she whom the author lets utter the clearest form of critique; at the same time it is also she who meets the most shameful death (2 Kgs 9.30-35). She takes a clear stance against Jehu but is at the same time removed from her position with the help of her subjects.

9. Jezebel-a In the following we have to consider the reasons for such a detailed description of Jezebel's death. Jezebel is called by the Judaean princes (2 Kgs 10.13). Several exegetes use this title as a starting point for their historical considerations of Jezebel and postulate the existence of an office of a in Judah (and Israel). Thus the thesis of such an office is used to limit or mark the possible actions of Jezebel.65 A presupposition is used as an external key to unlock the riddle of Jezebel. Since scholars who assume such an office tend to look at the biblical notices about Jezebel we will have to investigate the question of such an office. Ever since the publications by G. Molin (1954)66 and H. Donner (1959)67 scholars have discussed68 that the Hebrew term denotes a special office,

64. Limited space does not allow a detailed discussion of the criteria for primary and secondary sources; see Knauf (1993: 21-2); nevertheless, I do not believe that the Hebrew Bible should be simply disregarded as a primary source. If the basic layer was really written in close proximity to the actual events, it will be possible to apply Knauf's and Ahlstrom's criteria for a primary source. 65. With special emphases Steck (1968: 53-71); see also Ahlstrom (1993: 587); Timm, (1982: 291-303) and White (1997: 68-71). 66. Cf. Molin (1954: 161-75); cf. already Pedersen (1959: 71-6). 67. Cf. Donner (1959: 105-45). 68. Cf. Kiesow (2000: 96-134).

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generally but not exclusively occupied by the mothers of the Judaean (and Israelite) kings. There is little agreement regarding the exact nature of the office; especially unclear are the exact status69 and the duties70 connected with it. The term occurs 15 times in the Hebrew Bible. Especially important for the thesis is 1 Kgs 15.13 (cf. the parallel in 2 Chron. 15.16) where it is reported that Asa dismisses his mother as Gebirah 'because she had made an abominable image for Asherah'; Jer. 29.2 is also noteworthy, since the text states that king Jeconiah, and the Gebirah, the court officials, the leaders of Judah and Jerusalem, the artisans and the smiths had departed from Jerusalem. Jeconiah is probably Jehoiachin and the is most likely Nehushta (cf. 2 Kgs 24.12a, 15a). Additionally one tends to refer to the activities of Bathsheba (1 Kgs 1) and Athaliah (2 Kgs 11). Furthermore, the regular occurrence of the Gebirah within the narrative frame for the kings of Judah71 and the reports about the mother of the king in neighbouring cultures (Hittite empire, Assyria, Ugarit)72 seem to support the thesis (not to mention several modern analogies).73 G. Molin thinks it possible that an ambitious Jezebel was able to create for herself a position similar to the Judaean Gebirah, but he does not postulate the continuing existence of the office. According to Molin, Jezebel's behaviour towards Jehu would correspond very well to such an office.74 N.-E. Andreasen assumes that Jezebel resided as in Samaria, 'and functioned as such while Joram stayed in Jezreel'.75 S. Ackerman states: 'There is every possibility, in short, that Jezebel participated in an Asherah cult during her tenure as Ahab's queen both as part of her marital responsibilities and as part of her obligations of state. Moreover, although we can only speculate, I would argue that it is not unlikely that Jezebel continued to participate in an Asherah cult after Ahab's death, when she assumed the role of Queen mother.'76 However, if one looks at Jezebel's activities against the background of the literary growth of the narrative it becomes increasingly difficult to utilize the

69. Andreasen (1983: 180) for example assumes, that the was second in line after the king. Molin (1954: 164-5) and Ahlstrom (1963: 63) regard it as an office for life. 70. Molin (1954: 161) views her as a counsellor to the king; according to Ahlstrom (1963: 78) she possesses a cultic function. Especially in the light of 1 Kgs 15.13 the 'the virgin goddess' during a sacred marriage ritual; here she serves as 'an ideological replica of that of the mother of gods'. In contrast Andreasen (1983: 182-8) assumes that the mainly served as a representative of the interests of different groups before the king. 71. Only in the genealogies of Joram (2 Kgs 8.16-18) and Ahaz (2 Kgs 16.2-3) the is not mentioned. 72. Already Molin (1954: 165-75) mentions the Hittite tawannanna and the female potentates from Ugarit, Assyria and Sumer, see also Donner (1959: 110-30). 73. Andreasen (1983: 184-5) points to the role of the queen mother amongst the Swazi in South Africa and the Ashanti from West Africa. 74. Cf. Molin (1954: 173). 75. Andreasen (1983: 186). 76. Ackerman (1993: 395).

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statements as hints regarding an office of a .In the old narrative about the coup of Jehu we do not find any signs for Jezebel's striving for the throne. Her appearance at the window cannot be interpreted as granting an audience;77 rather her standing at the window as well as putting on make-up and doing her hair has a narratological function: Jezebel elevates herself three times over Jehu and subsequently falls deeply thrice: she is thrown out of the window by her own men, her blood splatters the walls and she is finally trampled on by Jehu's command. Also, the existence of an audience window - known to us from Egypt - is difficult to determine archaeologically.78 We do not have a scene similar to our narrative in the Hebrew Bible; thus, Jezebel's appearance remains the only literary proof. Additionally, the appearance of pharaoh at the window does not constitute the inauguration of his rule but rather the distribution of spoils and the honouring of soldiers.79 Nevertheless, it is not possible simply to argue that the chapters, which speak of the great power and influence of Jezebel cannot be used for the reconstruction of such an office, because they are post-Deuteronomistic texts. Theoretically it is entirely possible that later redactors attributed such a wealth of power, especially in the cultic sphere, to Jezebel, precisely, because such an office was still remembered in later times. Such a thesis is unlikely! The later description of Jezebel as a woman who rejoices in 'whoredoms and sorceries' (2 Kgs 9.22), is feeding prophets of Baal and Asherah (1 Kgs 18.19*) and persecutes prophets of YHWH (1 Kgs 18.4, 13; 19.2) are all redactional additions that (as shown in the diachronic analysis) do not primarily focus on this specific woman. Jezebel is simply becoming the provider for a large group of prophets, because the narrative requires that a single prophet of YHWH fights against a large number of prophets of Baal. The killing of the prophets of YHWH serves as the reason for the annihilation of the prophets of Baal and the reference to 'whoredoms and sorceries' legitimates the coup of Jehu. Against this background it appears very difficult to find any reference to a concrete office in these late and schematic statements.80 The texts dealing with Jezebel simply do not support the thesis of an office of a Gebirah in Israel. In addition to that the existence of an office of a Gebirah in Israel or Judah generally appears doubtful. The evidence in the Hebrew Bible itself remains 77. Thus most recently Gugler (1996: 177-82); see also Ahlstrom (1963: 63) and Steck (1968: 57-8). Ahlstrom in his History of Ancient Palestine (1993) wants to avoid the term 'audience window' 'because it is questionable whether the audience window was so large that a well-fed woman in all her regalia could pass through it' (1993: 595-6 n. 4). 78. On the architecture of urban fortifications or palaces during IA HE see Weippert (1988: 532-40). Weippert stresses that a dangerous leeway remains for the reconstruction of the actual building mode of palaces (Weippert 1988: 535). The same can be said of the reconstruction of simple buildings, see de Geus (1995: 80). 79. Cf. Timm (1982: 296). 80. We have to stress that for later redactors it did indeed seem feasible to attribute a certain power to Jezebel. However, this power is always seen negatively.

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vague and therefore particularly open to supplementing the missing evidence by ancient Near Eastern material.81 Also, the parallel cases are almost always unique in their context - which is most likely the reason for preserving them. Z. Ben-Barak offers a convincing solution to the problem of the Gebirah, by stressing that Bathsheba, Maacah, Hamutal and Nehushta were all mothers of a younger son who had no right to the throne.82 Cunningly, they all manage to bring her son to the throne, thus gaining power, influence and several rights within the empire of their sons. Several of the above mentioned features can be explained in that way. The queen mother was then not an official office, because her status rests on her individual abilities and ambitions that had already helped her son to gain access to the throne. The texts simply mirror the circumstances 'in which exceptional women were able to secure the royal succession for their sons, thereby themselves laying claim to a position of power in the realm'.83 The expression seems to be a title of respect or honour in the southern kingdom. In such a sense it is used in 2 Kgs 10.13 by the Judaean princes.84 That the sons of the king and the sons of the are mentioned next to each other could point to the fact that the Judaean princes did not think of an official state visit but rather assumed a visit amongst relatives.85 The scholarly construct of a Gebirah cannot be used to illuminate the background of the appearance of Jezebel. Nevertheless, it becomes clear that several women in the Hebrew Bible and in the ancient Near East could occupy positions of authority. This authority, however, seems to have been limited to the family and political actions connected with the family. 10. The Sidonian Princess and the Worship of Baal and Asherah If no special office seems to provide an adequate explanation for the fairly extensive description of the end of Jezebel, we have to ask which other circumstances are responsible for focusing in on Jezebel. Recent scholarly work on the passage - despite a close, diachronic reading of the biblical text, which arrives at conclusions similar to ours - still maintains that there existed a religious conflict during the ninth century BCE - a conflict in which Jezebel played a significant part.86 S. Otto, for example, argues that the worship of Baal cultivated and maintained by the royal court led to a renaissance of the cult of Baal amongst the Israelite population. In her view, Jezebel actively supported

81. Sceptical also Kiesow (2000: 131-4). 82. Cf. Ben-Barak (1994: 185). 83. Ben-Barak (1994: 185). These considerations have to be seen in the light of the missing diachronic analysis in Ben-Barak's study. 84. Thus already de Vaux (1961: 118). 85. Cf. Ben-Barak (1994: 176). 86. Cf. Otto (2001: 97-104).

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such a development by strengthening it at the expense of the exclusive cult of YHWH.87 Archaeological evidence is of little help here since no temple of Baal has been unearthed in Samaria and other sanctuaries are still in need of an exact identification.88 But even if such a sanctuary - supporting the worship of Baal during the ninth century BCE - will be found in the future, we still do not have any evidence for a historical conflict. We pointed out already that the contours of Elijah and Jezebel as religious antagonists were only shaped in late Deuteronomistic times. If late texts should not be immediately qualified as 'wrong', we have to ask whether such late texts do not point to the fact that the Phoenician princess explicitly supports the cult of her homeland. Here, we have to ask first whether it is plausible that Jezebel is indeed a princess from Phoenicia. If scrutinizing the Deuteronomistic statements on the worship of Baal we have to do the same with the statements regarding her father Ethbaal, because the old narrative in 2 Kgs 9-10 simply states that Jezebel was the daughter of a king and 1 Kgs 21 seems to assume that she is familiar with the legal procedures in Israel.89 There is nothing in this narrative that would suggest Jezebel being a foreigner. Again we have to investigate the external evidence, which - in the view of many scholars - can be found in Flavius Josephus's notices regarding the descent of Jezebel. In his writings one finds the confirmation of the biblical text, is able to supplement it and can even correct the Hebrew Bible. Solely on the basis of Josephus's report, the standard dictionaries and lexicons mention Ittobaal of Tyre as the father of Jezebel. The assumed descent of Jezebel makes it possible to equate the rather colourless Baal of the Bible with Melkart, the city-god of Tyre. This widely accepted view is the starting point for further grand theories regarding the religious history.90 In my opinion such an approach lacks a certain critical distance to the possible source - a source that requires a certain amount of scepticism. Firstly, Josephus offers in his Jewish Antiquities a description of Jezebel that modifies at some significant places the biblical presentation. When looking at these deviations, we realize that Josephus does not use a different source but 87. Otto (2001: 99). 88. On the existence of a possible 'Israelite shrine' cf. Crowfoot, Crowfoot and Kenyon (1957: 137-9). 89. There is no indication that Jezebel assumes a different, Canaanite royal law, as postulated by Baltzer (1965: 84) following Noth, (1971: 159-61). Jezebel's cry 1 Kgs 21.7,1 is a reaction on Ahab's description of Naboth's resistance to sell the vineyard, since Ahab does not speak about the and deliberately falsifies the conversation with Naboth. When talking to him, the king treated Naboth as an equal, trying to persuade him with an offer of a better vineyard and finally accepting the reference to the Now, when speaking to Jezebel, he portrays Naboth as a subject who stubbornly resists the wishes of the king, cf. Welten (1973: 25). 90. Cf. Lang (1981: 58); Katzenstein: (1955: 42-3); comp. the table in Beck (1999: 253-8).

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simply tries to rid the text of all difficulties and aims at presenting the actions of the biblical persons in an intelligible way.91 For the name of Jezebel's father, Josephus offers a striking deviation from the biblical evidence.92 Twice, Josephus calls him 'king of Tyre and Sidon',93 while a quotation from the historian Menander Ephesius, which he also provides, only speaks of the 'king of Tyre'.94 The latter-mentioned passage is, according to Josephus, taken from a work by Menander called 'Deeds of Ithobalos' and dealing with a great drought. Josephus adds that this drought was precisely the one we hear about during Ahab's time - thus providing a chronological frame for the notice in Menander. That means, however, that it is Josephus and not Menander who makes Ithobalos Ahab's contemporary. This of course diminishes the historical value of Josephus' statement.95 In general, Menander as a source for Josephus is of little value96 and also the chronology given by Josephus is highly unlikely. Josephus simply quotes Menander to support his own information by a 'reliable' Greek source. Since Josephus only finds Ithobalos, king of Tyre in Menander and since the biblical material provides Ethbaal as king of Sidon, he conflates both accounts and creates Ethbaal, king of Tyre and Sidon. Therefore it is impossible to use Josephus as external evidence to prove a Sidonian descent of Jezebel. Furthermore a determination of Baal is equally unlikely, because Deuteronomistic terminology tends to use as an unspecified term for a foreign god.97 We can assume, however, that the name Ethbaal or Ittobaal98 was common amongst Phoenician kings,99 making it likely that Jezebel's father could have carried it. Also the genesis of the text seems to speak in favour of the statement's historicity. Since the Deuteronomists mention Jezebel's origin but do not elaborate on her Phoenician, i.e. foreign background (this only happens in post-Deuteronomistic times when Jezebel is juxtaposed with the widow of Zarephath), thus showing no special interest in her origins, it seems impossible 91. He replaces the reference to the in 1 Kgs 21.3 with a more psychologizing statement of his resistance. '[H]e would himself enjoy the fruits of his own land, which he had inherited from his father' (Ant 8.355). Josephus replaces the oath-formula in 1 Kgs 19.3 with the statement: 'she [Jezebel] was filled with anger' (Ant 8.347). Also the sarcastic remark of Jezebel 'Zimri, murderer of your master' with which she questions the authority of Jehu is simplified in Josephus by the cynical sentence: 'A fine servant, who has killed his master' (Ant 9.122.). 92. Cf. the detailed discussion in Timm (1982: 224-31). 93. Josephus, Ant 8.317; 9.138. 94. Josephus, Ant 8.324. 95. For a detailed discussion of the use of Menander by Josephus see Timm (1982: 200-24). 96. Cf. here Dormer (2001: 298) and Timm (1982: 202). 97. Cf. Kockert (2003: 137). 98. On the different forms of the name in the manuscripts of Josephus see Timm (1982: 226). 99. Josephus himself mentions (Contra Apionem 1.155) a further king bearing that name who fought against Nebuchadnezzar.

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here to find arguments against the historicity of the statement. The lack of interest in Jezebel's foreign descent makes it historically less suspicious. The Deuteronomists had, undoubtedly, access to annals etc. because otherwise the agreement with other extra-biblical material cannot be explained. The title is the exact translation of the official title of the Sidonian kings.1"0 For a possible historicity we can further point to the rich epigraphic, archaeological and iconographic material, demonstrating the frequent trade and exchange between Israel and Phoenica101 as well as to the growing formation of coalitions by local kings against the Assyrian empire.102 An alliance of Israel and Phoenicia cannot be proven but seems likely. The investigation in the growth of the tradition in post-exilic times leads us to several allusions to contemporary events that help to understand the shaping of Jezebel as a foreign woman: here we have to draw attention to the battle of Ezra and Nehemiah against mixed marriages (Ezra 10.2-3, 10-44; Neh. 13.23-27),103 the warnings against the foreign woman in Proverbs (Prov. 2.1619; 5.1-14; 6.20-35; 7.1-27).104 The foreign descent of Jezebel is made explicit only in post-exilic times. Only now, the king's daughter and queen Jezebel is transformed to a foreign woman who poses a threat to Yahwistic religion. At the same time, the widow of Zarephath is painted by tradition as a faithful opponent who - just like Ruth the Moabite - acknowledges YHWH as the true God. The poor widow and the princess seem to determine each other. Additionally, not only the foreign descent in general but also Phoenicia as her place of origin seemed to be of importance. The Phoenicians (especially the city Sidon that started to surpass Tyre during the fifth century BCE) recovered under Persian rule105 and attempted to take advantage of the problematic situation in post-exilic Israel.106 The Persian king gave Jaffa and Dor to Eshmunazar of Sidon (475-461 BCE).107 All this probably added to the expanded picture of Jezebel in post-exilic times. It is entirely possible that the Phoenician princess Jezebel brought her own cult to the Israelite court and maintained her own prophets.108 In the context of the biblical narrative this seems, however, unlikely since Jezebel's provision for 100. Cf. KAI Vol. I, Nos. 14, 15, 16. 10I.Here we have to note that items in Phoenician style do not necessarily have to be imported and can be produced locally (see Weippert [1988: 652-660] and Keel/Uehlinger [1998: 295-296]). 102. Cf. the contribution by Lester Grabbe in the same volume (The Kingdom of Israel from Omri to the Fall of Samaria: If We Had Only the Bible'), who stresses the fact that the absence of Phoenicians on the Kurkh monolith as neither paying tribute nor being a member of the alliance of the twelve kings, can imply that the Phoenician army was subsumed under Israel. 103. Smith-Christopher (1994: 243-65); Janzen (2002). 104. Cf.Maier (1995). 105. Cf. Liwak (1996: 583). 106. Cf. Muller (1970/71: 189-204). 107. Ct. KAI Vol. I, 14. 108. For the Phoenician religion Peckham (1987: 79-99). Cf. also Lipinski (1987); Lipinski (1991) and Timm (1982: 231-41).

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the prophets of Baal and Asherah (1 Kgs 18-19) is a literary device to contrast her with the widow of Zarephath and is further shaped by incorporating the Elisha material thus creating an opposition of the Baal worship in Israel and the worship of YHWH in foreign lands. Also the narrative displays distinct contemporary traits.109 Since both ideas, the thesis of an office of a Gebirah in Israel and the considerations that Jezebel was much hated due to her religious policy, have to be abandoned, we arrive at a rather sober picture. Because of the detailed description of her death in 2 Kgs 9-10 by the author of the narrative we think it likely that Jezebel played an important role in the outside perception of the royal household. Since he stresses her royal descent (maybe a sign of respect?) Jezebel might have played this important role precisely because she was not only for many years the wife of a powerful and successful king as well as the mother of two further kings,110 but also because she herself descended from royalty. The narrator further shows that he thinks it is possible that her fame extended beyond the borders of her own court, because he lets the Judaean princes greet her and call her Gebirah (2 Kgs 10.13). Even if we have to abandon the thesis of an office of a Gebirah, the reports about women at royal courts demonstrate that they were able to exercise power in the realm of the family. Therefore it is likely that Jezebel occupied an important position in the aforementioned realm of family politics. The view that we find a clash between 'Israel' and 'Canaan' lurking behind the conflict of the ninth century BCE (thus the followers of A. Alt111 with slight modifications, cf. S. Timm,112 H. Donner113) cannot be maintained. In the narrative of Naboth's vineyard Jezebel does not act as a Canaanite since she follows Israelite legal procedure. In addition it is highly questionable whether 'Canaan' can be determined politically or ethnically during the ninth century BCE.114

It is impossible to use the narrative of Naboth's vineyard as a source for the historical Jezebel. Here, O. H. Steck115 and G. W. Ahlstrom,116 for example, were able to find signs of Jezebel's behaviour after the death of Ahab. Both 109. The contributions by Donner (2001: 300) and Otto (2001:98) that regard the literary as secondary, nevertheless as historically probable, are in danger of blurring the distinctions between literary layers as well as between the possible and the likely: such a reading produces in fact simply a synchronic reading followed by a historical analysis. This is a main problem of the structure of Otto's work: she considers the historical background of Jehu's revolution before her diachronic analysis of the Elijah-narratives. 110. It is unlikely that the Judaean ruler Athaliah was a daughter of Jezebel. According to 2 Kgs 8.26 Athaliah is a daughter of Omri (cf. 2 Chron. 22.2), according to 2 Kgs 8.16 a daughter of Ahab. The statement in 2 Kgs 8.26 is more likely: chronological issues point in that direction (cf. Katzenstein 1955:194-7), and 2 Kgs 8.18 is a Deuteronomistic evaluation of the piety in which the Omride dynasty is called House of Ahab. 111. Alt (1964: 116-34) and Alt (1954). 112. Cf. Timm (1982: 288-303). 113. Cf. Donner (2001: 260-74). 114. Cf. here Thompson (1992: 301-16). 115. Cf. Steck (1968: 71-7). 116. Cf. Ahlstrom (1993: 569-88).

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scholars, however, assumed a date for the narrative during the time of Joram or Jehu - a dating simply derived from the presupposition of the existence of an office of Gebirah. Rather, we have to date the narrative to the eighth/ seventh century BCE and thus have to see the portraits of the acting figures as prototypes for corrupt potentates. To understand the message of the narrative, one does not need to know any of the participants. It cannot be excluded that memories of the energetic Jezebel have been worked into the narrative but since Jezebel's question about the power of the king in 1 Kgs 21.7 already refers to her description in 2 Kgs 9, this memory is more of a literary than of a historical nature. 11. Conclusion At the end of our investigation we have but a few contours of the historical Jezebel, but this does not mean that the historical figure was completely absorbed in the literary one. According to this Jezebel was most likely a Phoenician princess whose homeland was not all that different from Israel in cultural and religious matters. To ensure good neighbourly contacts she was married to a king from a rising Israelite dynasty and became herself mother of two future kings. She was an important figure of the Omride dynasty and, naturally, her death is described in detail. This text (and no other 'historical' memory) serves as the point of departure for the growing tradition. The system of announcement and fulfilment that will provide the sharpest contours for the figure of Jezebel originates here. Next to the description of her death, later times eventually used her name and especially her foreign (i.e. Phoenician) descent as starting point for further growth of tradition. Here, later redactors now start to hold her responsible for the wrong path taken by the Omride household and create the picture of a powerful queen. In 1 Kgs 21 she acts as Ahab's wife, in 1 Kgs 18 and 19 she acts independently. The confinement of her actions to the house in 2 Kgs 9 and 1 Kgs 21 are expanded in 1 Kgs 17-19 in favour of a portrait of an all-powerful queen. These narratological traits can be traced back to several redactional constructs such as the antagonism between Jezebel and the widow of Zarpath and her struggle with Elijah. At the same time these traits provide directions for the reader of the following texts - thus the picture of the most powerful and most horrendous of women in the Hebrew Bible emerges. According to later redactors Jezebel used this power wrongly. Therefore she is not only responsible for her own cruel fate but also for the actions that lead to the death of her son and to the end of the Omride dynasty: Jezebel is the one who destroyed in Israel (1 Kgs 9.22b(3). Her brutal end possibly became the fate of the historical but definitely of the literary figure of Jezebel.117 117.1 would like to thank Anselm C. Hagedorn for his help during the preparation of the English version of this article.

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Schniedewind, W. M. 1996 'Tel Dan Stela. New Light on Aramaic and Jehu's Revolt', BASOR 302, pp. 75-90. Schorch, S. 2000 'Baal oder Boschet. Bin umstrittenes theophores Element zwischen Religionsund Textgeschichte', ZAW 112, pp. 598-611. Smelik, K. A. D. 1992 Converting the Past. Studies in Ancient Israelite and Moabite Historiography (OTS 28, Leiden et al.: Brill). Smith-Christopher, D. L. 1994 'The Mixed Marriage Crisis in Ezra 9-10 and Nehemiah 13. A Study of the Sociology of Post-Exilic Judaean Community', in T. C. Eskenazi and K. H. Richards (eds.), Second Temple Studies, Vol. 2 (JSOTSup 175, Sheffield: JSOT Press), pp. 243-65. Soggin, J. A. 1999 An Introduction to the History of Israel andjudah (3rd edn; London: SCM Press; Valley Forge: Trinity Press International). Spieckermann, H. 1982 Juda unter Assur in der Sargonidenzeit (FRLANT 129, Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht). Steck, O. H. 1968 Vberlieferung und Zeitgeschichte in den Elia-Erzahlungen (WMANT 26, Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag). Talmud Bavli, Edition Romm, Wilna, 1880-86 (reprint Jerusalem, without year). Talmud Yerushalmi, Edition Krotoschin, 1866 (reprint Jerusalem: 1969). Thiel, W. 2000 Konige II (BKAT DC/2, Nos. Iff., Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag). Thompson, T. L. 1992 Early History of the Israelite People: From the Written and Archaeological Sources (Studies in the History of the Ancient Near East 4, Leiden et al.: Brill). Timm, S. 1982 Die Dynastic Omri. Quellen und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte Israels im 9. Jahrhundert vor Christus (FRLANT 124, Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht). 1995 'Art. Isebel', Neues Bibel-Lexikon II, p. 241. Trible, P. 1994 'The Odd Couple: Elijah and Jezebel', in C. Biichmann and C. Spiegel (eds.), Out of the Garden. Women Writers on the Bible (New York: Fawcett Columbine), pp. 166-79. Uehlinger, C. 1994 'Ahabs konigliches Siegel? Ein antiker Bronzering zwischen Historismus und Reliquienkult, Memoria und Geschichte', in A. Kessler et al. (eds.), Peregrina Curiositas. Eine Reise durch den orbis antiquus (FS D. Van Damme, NTOA, Freiburg: University Press), pp. 77-116. de Vaux, R. 1961 Ancient Israel, vol. 1: Social Institutions; vol. 2: Religious Institutions (2 vols., London: Darton, Longman & Todd) (pagination continuous). Wehr,H. 1985 Arabisches Worterbuch fur die Schriftsprache der Gegenwart (5th edn, Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz). Weippert, H. 1988 Palastina in vorhellenistischer Z.eit (Mit e. Beitrag von L. Mildenberg, Handbuch der Archaologie: Vorderasien 2,1, Munich: Beck).

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'Geschichten und Geschichte: Verheifiung und Erfullung im deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerk', in J. A. Emerton (ed.), Congress Volume Leuven 1989 (VTSup 43, Leiden: Brill), pp. 116-31.

Welten, P. 1973 'Naboths Weinberg (1. Konige 21)', EvTh 33, pp. 18-32. Wesselius, J. W. 2001 'The Road to Jezreel. Primary History and the Tel Dan Inscription', SJOT 15, pp. 83-103. White, M. C. 1997 Elijah Legends and Jehu's Coup (BJS 311, Atlanta: Scholars Press).

A TESTIMONY OF THE GOOD KING: READING THE MESHA STELE

Thomas L. Thompson 1. The Problem of Literary Events and Their Contexts Lester Grabbe1 recognizes that the rhetoric of the Mesha stele is tendentious and stereotypical, although he does not engage these aspects of the text in any detail. I believe he would agree that it is a fallacy to date the inscription on the basis of the presumed setting of a similar biblical story - one that links the biblical King Ahab with Mesha in 2 Kings 3. While the advantage of comparing these texts with the assumption that they reflect historical events or conditions has always been the clarity and compatibility of identifying the stele's Israelite king, the events are veiled by the texts as we read two stories evoking a reality indeterminate. Obviously if we are going to create a past for our history, we need the leading question of Grabbe's essay: 'If we had only the Bible....' In the Bible, however we also have yet another story in 2 Chronicles (2 Chron. 17-20), a story which lacks any Mesha-led revolt, whether of Kings or of Mesha's scribe. Chronicles narrative, moreover, may not fit Grabbe's understanding of Kings' story (1 Kgs 22; 2 Kgs 3) as a composite account about past events. Does the alternative past of 2 Chronicles - one lacking the Mesha stories of both Kings and his stele - allow us to consider yet another alternative past: an as-yet-unreconstructed one, lacking both revolt and its cause? Such alternatives have not resisted Ehud Ben Zvi's malleability and, therefore (?), are to be understood as lying outside the biblical 'core of historical memory'.2 The malleable Mesha 'event' steps beyond historical memory and presents itself to its reader as a variant of story. The critical problem is perspective, as references in historical archives are significantly different from literary episodes and parables of ancient historiography.3 Although a definable stability can be recognized in a comparison 1. L. Grabbe, 'The Kingdom of Israel from Omri to the Fall of Samaria: If We Had Only the Bible...' (ESHM position paper). 2. E. Ben Zvi, 'The House of Omri/ Ahab in Chronicles' (ESHM position paper). 3. J. A. Emerton's critique of my Oslo Congress paper (Th.L. Thompson, 'Problems of Genre and Historicity with Palestine's Inscriptions', Congress Volume: Oslo 1998, ed. A. Lemaire and M. Saeb0, VTS (Leiden, 2000), 321-6, is quite correct in that my argument there for a fictive quality and late dating of the Mesha stele is inadequate as stated. Cf. J. A.

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of two or more texts with a common figure, plot or theme and with an assumed compositional relationship of dependency, to define the basis of comparison so specifically as a 'core of historical memory', as Ben Zvi does, confounds the analysis. As Ben Zvi rhetorically undermines the Chronicles' text as incapable of transcending its assumed source, while seemingly asserting that 2 Kings, in contrast, might have roots in the myth of collective historical memory, he loses interest in the quality of 2 Chronicles as tradition because of its lack of such a metaphysic. Are the associations between the stories in Kings and the Mesha stele, associations reflecting a malleable literary dependency, as Ben Zvi suggests has been the case with the story of Ahab in Chronicles and Kings, or do the stories of Mesha and Kings reflect independent efforts of historical memory? Are they to be understood as variant representations of common historical events? In the midst of such tendentious pleading, issues of genre and intention should not be ignored. A near-contemporary inscription from Deir Alia, telling a story of the seer of the gods, one Balaam son of Beor, is clearly comparable to a tale written in Numbers 22-24. Because both of these narratives are full of a religious fantasy, representing gods, miracles and prophets, few historians have objected to the understanding that both Deir Alia and Numbers have dipped into a confluent literary tradition. Nor have many seriously objected to understanding the Deir Alia inscription as the earliest known presentation of this prophet-like figure.4 Although the purpose of our seminar is the exploration of historical method, there has been little interest in comparing some of the similar narrative qualities of the rhetoric of the story on the Mesha stele in its context as a monumental inscription from Transjordan's Iron Age, with qualities of biblical narrative: even of 2 Kings 3, within its context of the Books of Kings.5 Our historicist perception of ancient literary creativity often limits us to perceptions about the tendentiousness of texts, the questionable historicality of miracles and an ancient author's penchant for exaggeration. As a result, our discussions of much informative data are reduced to banalities, asserting a 'source' copied or an event 'remembered'. A lack of interest in theoretical questions about the reading of texts is obvious in Grabbe's paper, which deals with this seminar's central question about what modern historians might glean from biblical tradition when there are no 'other' sources.6 The virtual mode of his question7 - 'if we had only the Bible' - attempts to define the forms of narrative data that are reliable in a context where 'abundant' extra-biblical sources exist to Emerton, 'The Value of the Moabite Stone as an Historical Source', VT (2003), 483-92. The present article attempts to redress some of the inadequacies of my earlier paper. 4. Th. L. Thompson, 'Problems of Genre', 322-3. 5. Th. L. Thompson, 'Problems of Genre', 323-6. 6. T. Droysen's important historiographical concept of historical remnant (flberreste) in contrast to the historicity of narratives - is at stake here. See, e.g., N. P. Lemche, 'Ideology and the History of Ancient Israel', SJOT14 (2000), 165-93 [184-5, n 53]. 7. As, for example, Th. L. Thompson, 'If David Had Not Climbed the Mount of Olives', Biblical Interpretation 8 (2000), 42-58.

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provide confirmation. Such potentially definable forms might then provide criteria for assuming historicity of comparable elements in contexts where confirming extra-biblical evidence is lacking. The effort is interesting in spite of Grabbe's domaine assumption that form renders historicity. In a brief analysis, Grabbe stresses that names, chronologies and the order of royal succession are particularly amenable to such assumptions of historicity. Unfortunately and tendentiously, passages dealing with prophets and holy men, or expressing theologically based judgments - the bulk of 1 Kings 16-2 Kings 17 - are excluded from his consideration. They are judged 'distinctly legendary' in contrast to the 'straightforward narrative' of the other half of Kings' narrative. Not only are criteria for defining such radically distinctive genres of story nowhere presented, no reason is given to support his belief that 'straightforward narratives' provide historical information, while 'legends' do not. His assumed sources for his 'straightforward narrative' in court or temple archives, moreover, are entirely projected from the texts so defined - a mistake in method that guarantees his argument's circularity.8 Why does Grabbe resort to virtual history for his historicist question? A sounder historical method would subject these texts - biblical and extrabiblical - to comparative analysis in an effort to define better what they once signified. Before taking up questions of historicity, one must first ask what a text says. Grabbe rather selects data, often merely incidental to plot (dates, names and order of succession) and rejects other data (miracles, prayers and songs) central to both plot and the text's function within its context in 1-2 Kings. Does he do this because names and order of succession are useful to his own rhetoric as an historian? Such tendentious pragmatism and circularity of argumentation is hardly legitimate. Conversely, rejecting the historicity of the vast bulk of 1-2 Kings, because it is 'not written as record of the past nor for purely antiquarian reasons'9 has unfortunately not led to the obvious possibility that such a description fits the whole of 1-2 Kings. The assertion that names, dates and orders of succession have potentially easier access to the historical than miracles, prayers and songs is both fragile and arbitrary. As long as the gap between alleged historical events and their legendary refraction remains unresolved, as Ben Zvi has argued with reference to data in Kings that is comparable to data in Chronicles, it will remain so.10 Grabbe also fails to consider any of the rhetorical qualities of his text's chronology, an issue which has recently been discussed by Lemche.11 Nor does Grabbe consider the effect the Bible's widespread use of 'cue names' has on his assumption that unconfirmed royal names are likely historical data. He also

8. L. L. Grabbe, 'The Kingdom of Israel', 3. 9. Idem, 19, items 2-5. 10. E. Ben Zvi, 'The House of Omri'. 11. N. P. Lemche, 'Praegnant tid i Det gamle Testamente', in G. Hallback and N. P. Lemche (eds.), Tiden i bibelsk belysning, Forum for Bibelsk Eksegese 11 (Frederiksberg, 2001), 29-47.

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ignores the literary functions of names he considers historically confirmed.12 Grabbe does not systematically compare texts, though he cites many in need of comparative analysis. Perhaps supporting an assumption that story follows event, he often defines obviously fictive elements as secondary, leaving names and order of succession to provide evidence for events other than the legendary.13 Is he arguing that our stories give evidence of their author once having used a synchronized king list? Or is he claiming that names, dates and succession - at times coinciding with the names, dates and order of succession reconstructed from extra-biblical texts - allow us to use similar, but unconfirmed, data in biblical legends? The former seems quite reasonable and the latter most problematic. The concluding principle that the Bible can be used as an independent source for the events of the past, even though it is not 'written as record of the past nor for purely antiquarian reasons', would even allow one to accept the biblical chronology for the creation of mankind and the accession of King Adam to his imperial throne (Gen. 1.28)! Grabbe's flirt with fundamentalism obscures an historical question that is important. Can the historically confirmable elements of biblical narrative understood as stories about real kings of the past, set at times in real historical contexts and associations - have had roots, whether direct or transmitted, in literary productions contemporary or near-contemporary to events in some way reflected in these stories? This is the question I raised at the Oslo congress in a paper on the Mesha stele.14 It is important to insist that, when we have a text, we are dealing first of all with literary categories, giving access to the past only on the literary terms of the text's rhetoric. I do not think this debate can be furthered by ad hoc judgments about the historical or the fictive nature of any specific literary form, whether they relate to forms of motifs, such as dates, names and order of presentation or succession, or whether they relate to 'genre', such as a 'straightforward narrative' or one distinctively legendary. We disagree far too much about how symbol systems function in ancient literature.15 The neglect of the implications 12. With regard to Omri, see Th. L. Thompson, 'Problems of Genre'; in regard to Israel, in I. Hjelm and Th. L. Thompson, 'The Victory Song of Merneptah, Israel and the People of Palestine', /SOT 27 (2002), 3-18. On eponymy in the Bible, see Th. L. Thompson, The Historicity of the Patriarchal Narratives: The Quest for the Historical Abraham, BZAW 133 (Berlin, 3rd edn, 1974; Harrisburg, 2002), 311-14. 13. L. L. Grabbe, 'The Kingdom of Israel', 20, esp., item 6. 14. As cited by L. L. Grabbe, 'The Kingdom of Israel', 14. 'Omri "dwelling in Moab" is not a person doing anything in Transjordan. It is a character of story: an eponym, a personification of the state Bit Humri's political power and the presence of its army in eastern Palestine. We have a text. Therefore, we are dealing with the literary, not the historical. From the historical name of Bit Humri, the Bible's story of a King Omri as builder of Samaria and founder of its dynasty grew just as much as had the story of King David and his forty kings. These sprang from the eponymous function of a truly historical byt dwd.' For full context, see Th. L. Thompson, 'Problems of Genre'. 15. Ibidem and L. L. Grabbe, 'The Kingdom of Israel', 15-16. Cf. the interchange between L. L. Grabbe; 'Hat die Bibel doch Recht? A Review of Th. L. Thompson's The Bible in History, SJOT 14 (2000), 117-39 and Th. L. Thompson, 'Lester Grabbe and Historiography: An Apologia', SJOT 14 (2000), 140-61.

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of the literary qualities of monumental narratives, in biblical scholarship's ongoing search through story for history, returns us to issues of principle that once dominated the debates on historicity in the 1970s.16 The purpose of Grabbe's analysis is to find warrant for assuming the historicity of some elements of the biblical narrative, when extra-biblical confirmation is lacking. It was precisely against such an assumption, namely, John Bright's 'history of the possible', that my analysis of historicity in regard to the patriarchal narratives concluded that all such names, dates and chronological sequences in biblical narrative needed extra-biblical confirmation before they could be used as data within a critical history of Palestine's past.17 2. Thematic Functions and A Testimony of the Good King1* Over the past quarter century, two principles of the 'comparative method' have been considered important; namely, that particular care be given to evaluating each text and type of text independently of those judged comparable. Before general arguments or historical judgments can be drawn, which affect our understanding of selected data and texts, particular care must be taken that the relationships of context and association are themselves concretely, and independently, supported by evidence.19 Given the circularity of assuming a common context within an implied historical context or event in comparing the data of biblical and extra-biblical texts, it is useful to read the Mesha stele within a context of similar ancient Near Eastern inscriptions, before comparing its narrative with biblical stories, which belong to quite another form of literary production.20 Already in 1973, Mario Liverani warned against distorting historical judgment by reading a monumental text such as the Mesha inscription without regard to literary patterns and intentions reflected in such composition. Liverani proposed a systematic evaluation of the stereotypical and fictive patterns of such inscriptions, which were only presumably historical.21 In a similar way, Gosta Ahlstrom 16. See Th. L. Thompson, The Early History of the Israelite People from the Written and Archaeological Sources (Leiden, 3rd edn, 2000), 158-70; more recently, Th. L. Thompson, 'Is a History of Palestine Possible: an Introduction', in Jerusalem in Ancient History and Tradition, ed. by Th. L. Thompson (London, 2003), 1-15. 17. Th. L. Thompson, Historicity, 315-26. On names, see 22-51 and 311-14; for placenames, 298-308; for dates and chronological sequence, 9-16 and 308-11. 18. An abbreviated version of the following analysis is presented in Th. L. Thompson, The Messiah Myth: The Near Eastern Roots of Jesus and David (New York, 2005), chapter 5 and Appendix 2. 19. Slightly revised from Th. L: Thompson, Historicity, 320; see further, idem, 52-7; also W. W. Hallo, 'Biblical History in its Near Eastern Setting: the Contextual Approach', in W. W. Hallo (ed.), Scripture in Context (Winona Lake, 1980), 1-26. 20. Th. L. Thompson, 'Jerusalem as the City of God's Kingdom: Common Tropes in the Bible and the Ancient Near East', Islamic Studies 40 (2001), 631-48. 21. Most importantly in reference to the Idrimi inscription: M. Liverani, 'Partire sul carro, per il deserto', AION 32 (1972), 403-15; idem, 'Rib-Adda, giusto sofferente',

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questioned the specific assumption that the historicity of 2 Kings 3's narrative had been confirmed by the Mesha story on the Moabite stone. He argued that we needed to consider the literary qualities of the relationship between biblical and ancient Near Eastern inscriptions,22 an issue that Ingrid Hjelm has recently engaged in a discussion of Isaiah's Hezekiah story in reference to the rhetoric of Sennacherib inscriptions.23 Although Babylonian and Assyrian campaign inscriptions are similar to the Mesha stele in their use of the first person, in hyperbole and in tendentiousness, similarities with campaign inscriptions are not limited to such stock elements of rhetoric.24 The Mesha stele seems even more specifically tied to dramatic narratives, aimed at monumental display. Such narratives centre on the exploits of the king and include the theme of war as one among several thematic elements. In recounting the deeds of the king, these texts speak from within an intellectual context which might be referred to as 'royal ideology'.25 Frequently, expressions of the king's piety and valour before his divine patron,

Altorientalische Forschungen 1 (1973); and more systematically: idem, 'Memorandum on the Approach to Historiographic Texts', Orientalia 42 (1973), 178-94. See, also, T. Longman, Fictional Akkadian Autobiography (Winona Lake, 1991). Most formalistic analyses of the 1970s and early 1980s (e.g., E. Otto, 'Geschichtsbild und Geschichtsschreibung in Agypten', WO 3 (1966), 161-76; D. Irvin and Th. L. Thompson, 'The Joseph and Moses Narratives', in Israelite and Judean History, ed. by J. H. Hayes and J. M. Miller (Philadelphia, 1977), 147212; D. Irvin, Mytharion, AOAT (Neukirchen, 1978); J. Sasson, Ruth (Baltimore, 1979), like Liverani, take their departure in the comparative analyses of folktale scholars from Axel Olrik and Vladimar Propp (A. Olrik, 'Epische Gesetze der Volksdichtung', ZDA 51 (1909), 1-12; idem, Folkelige Afhandlinger (Copenhagen, 1919); V. Propp, Morphology of the Folktale (Austin, 1968) to Stith Thompson, Narrative Motif: Analysis as a Folklore Method, FFC 161 (Helsinki, 1955); idem, Motif Index of Folk Literature, 6 vols. (Bloomington, 1955-1958). Most of these studies in biblical scholarship deal with a comparison of ancient Near Eastern and biblical narratives, which are today widely recognized as fictive or legendary. 22. G. Ahlstrom, The History of Ancient Palestine from the Palaeolithic Period to Alexander's Conquest, JSOTS 146 (Sheffield, 1993), 579. 23. I. Hjelm, 'The Hezekiah Narrative as a Foundation Myth for Jerusalem's Rise to Sovereignty', Islamic Studies 40 (2001), 661-74. 24. S. Mowinckel, 'Die vorderasiatischen Konigs - und Fiirsteninschriften: Eine stilistische Studie', Eucharisterion: Gunkel Festschrift, ed. by H. Schmidt (Gottingen, 1923), 278-321. While Mowinckel partially distinguishes Assyrian military campaigns from building inscriptions, C. Smith ('Some Observations on the Assyrians and History', Encounter 30 (1969), 340-54, has argued that the campaign inscriptions are themselves building inscriptions. As both campaigns and building projects seem to be subsidiary elements among the inscriptions analysed below, a designation which follows function, similar to Max Miller's description of the Mesha stela as 'memorial' to the king, has been adopted (M. Miller, 'The Moabite Stone as a Memorial Stela', PEQ 106 (1974), 9-18. 25. See M. Liverani, Prestige and Interest: International Relations in the Near East: ca 1600-1100 EC, History of the Ancient Near East 1 (Padua, 1990); Th. L. Thompson, 'Kingship and the Wrath of God, or Teaching Humility', RB (2002), 161-96; I. Hjelm and Th. L. Thompson, 'The Victory Song of Merneptah', and, especially, N. Wyatt, Myths of Power: A Study of Royal Myth and Ideology in Ugaritic and Biblical Tradition, UBL 13 (Miinster, 1996).

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and the cluster of thematic elements belonging to such inscriptions, represent him as ideal ruler. In an effort to sketch just such a specific 'motif-cluster'26 informing and defining the Mesha stele, I draw on some 20 well-known texts for comparison - especially some which have been, like Mesha, written in Syria - that have similar clusters. Three times twenty could easily have been chosen,27 especially if one were to draw on victory hymns, campaign texts, building inscriptions or the like, all of which involve similar clusters of thematic elements and are expressive of the rich myth and literature of royal ideology. The purpose is not to define one specific genre in contrast to other genres. It is rather to analyse the functions of the stereotypical elements that are found in monumental inscriptions of this type in order to gain a clearer understanding of the royal ideology implied in their functions. My intention is to exploit some of the formalistic methods of comparative analysis that we might more effectively define the historical relationships that exist between the reiteration of common literary elements in both ancient Near Eastern and biblical traditions. The immediate question governing my analysis is not whether individual motifs or thematic elements are historically plausible or possess any quality of historicity. It is rather to illustrate the scribal traditions implied by the elements with which our texts are constructed and to understand their implications for writing history. I wish to concentrate on how such thematic elements function and how they further the purpose of the narratives and effect the symbol system of royal ideology in which they are read and accepted. The greatest potential of formalistic classification to identify and confirm associations between specific units of tradition stretches well beyond the recognition of stock motifs in variant texts, as, for example, those which can be identified in Psalm 2, the Enuma Elish and the Hymn to Aten. It is rather the observation of element clustering that allows us to speak of specific motifs as elements of royal ideology.28 Such clustering enables us to expose aspects of

26. So M. Liverani, 'Memorandum'. 27. The texts I use have been selected because of the similarities of their thematic elements with those found in the Mesha stele and because of their availability to the reader in the widely used Pritchard and Hallo anthologies. The Hittite texts are included because of their importance in discussions of ancient Near Eastern historiography (H. Cancik, Mythische und Historische Wahrheit, SBS 48 (Stuttgart, 1970); idem, Grundzuge der Hethitischen und Fruhisraelitischen Geschichtsschreibung, ADPV (Wiesbaden, 1976); J. Van Seters, In Search of History: Historiography in the Ancient World and the Origins of Biblical History (New Haven, 1983). I have also included the inscription from Luckenbill's anthology because of both its epitomizing qualities and its instructive variations, especially its engagement of thematic elements in multiple contexts. 28. See already A. Hermann, Die agyptische Konigsnovelle (Gliickstadt, 1938) and, especially B. Albrektson, History and the Gods: An Essay on the Idea of Historical Events as Divine Manifestations in the ancient Near East and in Israel (Lund, 1967). See, more recently, H. W. F. Saggs, Encounter with the Divine in Mesopotamia and Israel (London, 1978).

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signification belonging to the literary and intellectual world implicit in a text. The hint of specific nuances within such clustering, moreover, presents the hope of identifying and defining very specific narrative patterns, episodes and topoi, expressed and implied.29 The purpose of the analysis is to expose the function of texts, reflected in such patterning. I hope to show with this analysis that the texts considered share a common royal ideology and express a similar function. This I epitomize as a 'Testimony of the Good King'. As these texts also share considerable common ground in their use of metaphor, dramatic expression and social language, all of which are important to our deliberations, I present them in the form of a paraphrastic classification, which allows me to concentrate on the specific thematic functions reflected in each narrative. This allows me to identify variable thematic elements, which, nevertheless, share a common function. Because of space, I have limited myself to some few general observations on the important issue of rhetorical patterns.30 Most of the thematic elements and functions within the royal ideology considered here have been earlier identified in my analysis of two Egyptian hymns: one attributed to Thutmosis III and the other to Merneptah.31 In addition, I add three further functions: blessings, curses and prayers for divine protection, as they are common to many of the texts I compare with the Mesha stele. List De: Le: Pa:

of Thematic Functions: Dedication of memorial.32 Statement of legitimation.33 Declaration of the king as chosen by the gods or as servant of the divine patron.34 Pi: Declaration of innocence, piety or virtue in office.35 29. Th. L. Thompson, 'Kingship and the Wrath of God'. 30. Cf. V. Propp and J. M. Sasson referred to above in note 20. 31. The hymn of Thutmosis III can be found in J. B. Pritchard, Ancient Near Eastern Texts Related to the Old Testament (=ANET) (Princeton, 1969), 373-5. It involves themes reused in inscriptions of Amenophis HI, Seti I and Ramses ID. For the Amenhotep IE inscription, see ANET, 375-6; that of Seti I can be found in J. Breasted, Ancient Records of Egypt HI (London, 1906-1907), § 116-17; and the Ramses III variant can be found in J. A. Wilson, Historical Records of Ramses III, SAOC 12 (Chicago, 1936), 111-12. For the Merneptah hymn, see ANET, 376 and W. W. Hallo, The Context of Scripture II: Monumental Inscriptions (Leiden, 2000) (-Hallo II). For a discussion of these inscriptions in the context of royal ideology, see Th. L. Thompson, 'Kingship and the Wrath of God'; and I. Hjelm and Th. L. Thompson, 'The Victory Song of Merneptah' (12). 32. In the Egyptian hymns, the voice is in the 3rd person; in contrast to the testimony texts' frequent use of the 1st person. 33. In both Egyptian texts, the eternal relation of the king to Ammon-Re and Horus is emphasized. In the testimonies, legitimation is more usually the function of references to the king's father and grandfather. 34. Respectively, Ammon-Re and Re. Several gods are commonplace. 35. Thutmosis is beloved of Re. Both are sons of God and Merneptah is the arm of Horus.

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Su: Description of past suffering, evil, rebellion or the anger of the gods.36 Di: Recognition of divine participation as the primary cause for change.37 Vi: Declaration of strength and victory over hardship, suffering, evil or enemies.38 Re: The reversal of destinies and the power over fate.39 Na: Establishing a name.40 Bu: Building or repairing temples or cities.41 Go: Fullness of time or the announcement of sudden, transforming good news.42 Sha: Creation of a Utopian shalom.43 Bl: Blessing or advice to successor. Cu: Curses. Pr: Prayer for divine protection. 2.1 Inscriptions from Mesopotamia, paraphrased and identified by function 1. In the story of Sargon of Akkad,44 the king presents himself in the first person (De). The text refers to his family (Le) to present Sargon's birth as the birth of a hero (Na). His mother is a priestess (a virgin); his father unknown (Pa). He is born in secret, and put into the Euphrates in a basket of rushes (Su), whose door is sealed with pitch. He is saved by a labourer, who rears him (Vi). He was Ishtar's lover and her father's gardener (Pa/ Pi). He was king over Akkad for four years. He conquered mountains; he scaled the heights and walked in the valleys (Re) and circled the sea three times (Go/ Sha), capturing Dilmun and going up to the great Der to destroy Kazallu (Vi). He calls on the kings who follow to do likewise (Bl/ Na). 36. In the Thutmosis inscription, this element is general and implicit. In Merneptah's more narrative text, an uproar in Lybia is implied prior to the reversal that is of interest to the text. 37. In the Thutmosis text, the god Re acts as Thutmosis acts; similarly, in Merneptah, the god Re acts through Merneptah. 38. In the Thutmosis text, victory over the world is promised, resulting in eternal glory and fear and terror, creating awe. In the Merneptah stele, victory in all lands is prophesied, which brings eternal fear and dread over all lands. 39. In the Thutmosis inscription, the quarrelsome are crushed, enemies become cavedwellers and valleys are filled (with corpses). In Merneptah, an eight-fold version of the 'song for a poor man' celebrates the reversal of fortunes, while enemies become cave-dwellers. For an extensive discussion of this trope, see Th. L. Thompson, The Messiah Myth, chapter 4 and Appendix 1. 40. In Merneptah, all gossip about his great exploits. 41. Thutmosis builds, repairs the temple and makes monuments; in Merneptah, Memphis returns to its prior status. 42. Thutmosis is described as a shooting star; in Merneptah, great joy is announced. 43. In Thutmosis, his throne is established and he rules the living forever; in Merneptah, the final stanza of Shalom declares peace over Asia and the whole world is bound to his patronage. 44. L. King, Chronicles Concerning Early Babylonian Kings II (London, 1907), 87-96; B. Lewis, The Sargon Legend, ASORDS 4 (Missoula, 1980); W. W. Hallo, The Book of the People, BJS 225 (Atlanta, 1991), 130-1; ANET, 119; W. W. Hallo, The Context of Scripture I (Leiden, 1997) (=Hallo I), 461.

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2. Written in a 3rd person voice, the inscription of Yahdun-Lim (De)45 is dedicated to the god Shamash as king of heaven and earth and overlord of Mari (Pa). The king is described as digger of canals, builder of walls, erector of steles and provider for his people (Pi). He is a mighty king and a famous hero (Na) who writes his stele when Shamash listened to his prayer (Pa). The king, who is identified as the son of Yaggid-Lim (Le) is described as the first king to reach the Mediterranean (Vi) since Shamash built Mari (Di?). He entered the mountains, did battle, made his name and proclaimed his power (Na). He united the entire region under him, and imposed a permanent tribute (Sha). The same year, three kings rebelled (a list) and conspired against him (Su). He defeated them, made a massacre, razed their cities and annexed their land (Vi). He repaired the embankment of the Euphrates (Re) and built a temple to Shamash with perfect construction (Bu). He prays for a long and happy rule (Pr). A curse follows for anyone who neglects the temple, stops the offerings or erases Yahdun-Lim's name (Cu/ Na). 3. The inscription attributed to Assurbanipal II46 opens in a 1st person (De) description as high priest, favourite of the gods and king of the world (Pa), son of Tukulti-Ninurta, son of Adad-Nirari (Le), a hero (Na) who follows the instructions of the gods and is therefore without rival (Pi). He is the shepherd of all, unafraid, and irresistible flood (Pi). He makes the unsubmissive submit and rules all humanity (Re). He has personally conquered all lands from beyond the Tigris to Lebanon and from the source of the Subnat river to Urartu (W Sha?). Asshur, himself, chose him (Na) and proclaimed his power (Di). In wisdom and knowledge he rules Calah (Pi). He then describes building the palace, including painted scenes to tell his heroic deeds (Bu/ Na) and his establishment of proper cult in Calah (Pi). He describes his 'garden of happiness', with rare trees from all the countries through which he marched, listing some 40 varieties (Sha). He erects temples and established festivals (Bu). He made a statue of himself in gold and placed it before Ninurta (Pr/ Pa). He resettled abandoned tells (Su/ Re). Ninurta and Palil who love him (Pi) ordered him to hunt (Di); so he heroically kills large numbers of animals (Na). He organizes herds of wild animals and adds land and people to Assyria (Sha). 4. The Esharhaddon inscription47 is a 1st person (De) inscription identifying as king of the universe, king of Assyria and other titles (Le), worshipper of Nabu and Marduk (Pa). Before him there were evil days, factions and rebellions 45. G. Dossin, 'L'Inscription de Fondation de Yahdun-Lim, roi de Mari', Syria 32 (1935), 1-28; A. Malamat, 'Campaigns to the Mediterranean by lahdunlim and other early Mesopotamian Rulers', AS 16 (1965), 365-72; ANET, 556-7. 46. D. D. Luckenbill, The Annals of Sennacherib, Oriental Institute Publications, 2 (Chicago, 1926-7), 116; D. J. Wiseman, 'A New Stela of Assur Nasir-pal IT, Iraq 14(1952), 24-44; ANET, 558. 47. D. D. Luckenbill, Ancient Records of Assyria and Babylonia II (Chicago, 19261927) = Luckenbill II, § 640-6.

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(Su). The gods, plundered, were angry and planned evil (Su). Babylon was flooded and the people went into slavery (Su). Seventy years of desolation was appointed (Go), but merciful Marduk turned fate about and ordered restoration (Di/ Re) in the llth year (Re/ Go). Esharhaddon was called from among his older brothers (Na), his foes were slain and he was entrusted with the rule of Assyria (Pa). At the beginning there were favorable signs (Go). He was hesitant about the commission and prostrated himself (Pi), but the oracles encouraged him to rebuild Babylon's walls and restore Esagila (Di/ Bu). He restored the gods to their places, freed the enslaved from their slavery (Re). A variant of this inscription48 reiterates the narrative as above. After the restoration, Esharhaddon prays that his seed, Esagila and Babylon, endure forever (Go/ Pr), that he be like the plant of life to the people (Sha), and that he rule in justice (Pi) to a ripe old age. He prays for the blessings of life and fertility for himself and his land (Sha), a secure rule, a happy spirit and that he might walk his bright path (Sha/ Pr), including a conquering hand against his enemies (Vi). He speaks of having made memorial steles and foundation inscriptions, writing his name, of writing of the deeds he accomplished and of his works (Na). He blesses whoever among his sons succeeds him to read and anoint his inscription and states that Marduk will hear his prayer (Bl). One who destroys his name and shatters the inscription, however, is cursed (Na/ Cu). The inscription closes: Year of accession of Esharhaddon, king of Assyria. 5. The 1st person inscription of Nebuchadnezzar II49 (De) introduces him as servant of Marduk (Le/ Pa), a wise ruler, who causes Babylon to become the foremost country in the world (Pi/ Na). The god wants timber from Lebanon (Di), which is controlled by foreigners and robbers, its people scattered (Su). Nebuchadnezzar's role is of a royal saviour (Na). He eliminates the enemy and makes everyone happy (Re/ Vi). He breaks the mountains and makes a straight path to deliver the people, return them to their homes (Re), where they live in safety undisturbed (Go/ Sha). He is established as eternal king (Na/ Go/ Sha). He blesses the destiny of those who protect his inscription (Bl) and asks for a name (Na), long life, fertility and an eternal dynasty (Pr/ Sha). 6. The first of the Nabonidus' inscriptions50 is in the first person (De) and begins speaking of Sennacherib and his crimes against Babylon and of Marduk's anger (Su). When the time was full (Go) and Marduk appeased

48. Luckenbill II, § 647-59. Further longer and shorter variations on this narrative can be found in Luckenbill II, 659A-E and 660-5. In an inscription intended for the statue of the king, and clearly written to serve a similar narrative function (Luckenbill II, 666-77) many of the thematic elements of this story are reiterated to mark as chosen by Assur and Marduk as the restorer of temples and services throughout the empire. 49. F. H. Weissbach, Die Inschriften Nebukadnezars II im Wadi Brissa und am Naahr el-Kelb (Leipzig, 1906); ANET, 307. 50. ANET, 308-11.

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(Re), the deity remembered Esagila and Babylon, and caused Sennacherib to be murdered by his sons, who had earlier destroyed Babylon by Marduk's command (Di). The Mandeans destroyed the temples of Assyria and the towns and cult-centres of Akkad (Su). The king of Babylon was innocent and went as in mourning (Pi). The king of Akkad rebuilt the temples and restored the cults (Re). Nabonidus was made king by the rule of Marduk (Na/ Pa). He will obtain all that he wishes (Vi). He is successor to Nebuchadnessar and Neriglissar and his purpose is to carry out their will (Le). Nabonidus reports a dream, predicting for him a long life: a permanent throne (Go) and enduring rule (Sha/Na) in which Marduk will hear him (Sha). He asks Marduk to allow him to rule long years if that is his wish (Pr). He promises to care for the sanctuaries (Pi). He describes improvements, including the rebuilding of the temple (Bu). 7. The second Nabonidus text,51 written in the 1st person (De), announces a great miracle (Go), in a dream calling him to kingship (Di/ Pi). He was an only son, one alone in the world (Na/ Le), who did not seek kingship (Pi). The gods chose him to rebuild the temple in Harran (Bu) and to give him 'all the lands (Pa)'. The people and administrators of the cities of Babylonia did evil and sinned (Su). They ate each other, caused disease and starvation and the god Sin decimated the land (Di/ Su). Nabonidus is forced by Sin to leave his city and wander in the desert for ten years (Go/ Su). Sin appointed gods to watch over him (Di). Ishtar caused all hostile kings to send messages of friendship (Sha/ Di). Nergal broke the weapons of his eternal enemies in Arabia (Sha/ Di/ Vi), and they submit to Nabonidus' patronage and Shamash caused the hearts of the people to turn again to him (Di/ Sha/ Pa). The time the divine crescent52 had appointed falls on the 17th of Tashritu, a day on which Sin is gracious (Go). A prayer of praise and recognition of Sin as his patron is given (Pa/ Pi). The gods who had fled Babylon returned (Re). He rewards his supporters generously and returns home unchanged (Sha). He builds a temple to Sin and restores the gods (Bu/ Re). Whenever he has fought a war, it was to carry out the command of the divine crescent (Pa). He instructs his successor to visit the sacred places of Sin and find support in battle (Bl). 8. The Cyrus inscription,53 begins in the 1st person, with the problem of the bad former king who had removed the images of the gods from their thrones and replaced them with fakes; used wrong rituals and prayers and set the people under corvee without relief (Su). The gods withdraw from the city and leave their temples empty (Di/ Pa/ Su). The people become like the living 51. C. J. Gadd, 'The Harran Inscriptions of Nabonidus', Anatolian Studies 8 (1958), 35-92; W. Rollig, 'Erwagungen zu neuen Stelen Konig Nabonids', ZA 22 (1964), 218-260; ANET, 562-563. 52. In central Arabia in the Hellenistic period, the crescent represents the divine Wd, (d'wd 'the beloved'), the protector of the poor and needy. 53. ANET, 315-16.

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dead, without the breath of the gods (Su). Marduk hears their plaint and repents of his anger, showing mercy (Di). He finds the righteous Cyrus (Pi) and names him to rule the whole world (Na/ Pa). Both Guti and Manda submit to Cyrus's just patronage (Vi). The inscription's second part presents Cyrus in the 1st person (De) and reiterates the themes of the first part. Marduk is his friend (Na/ Pa) and makes him attack Babylon (Di), where his soldiers enter without a battle (Sha). Godless Nabonidus is defeated (Re/ Vi). Sumer and Akkad rejoice at Cyrus' patronage (Go), which brings them back from the dead (Re). Cyrus is king of the world (Sha/ De), like his father and grandfather (Le), whom the gods love. He forbids terror, corvee (Sha) and improves housing (Pi), reversing the people's plaint (Re). All recognize his patronage and bring tribute (Pa/ Na). Gods and people return from exile (Re/ Sha). 9. The Xerxes inscription54 begins in a 3rd-person voice (De), declaring that Ahuramazda made Xerxes the sole great king (Pa). Xerxes then speaks in the 1st person as ruler over all countries and languages (Na). He is the son of Darius (Le). Under Ahuramazda he is king over 30 great regions from Media to Kush (Pa). There is a rebellion (Su). With Ahuramazda's help (Di), Xerxes reestablishes the rebels' status as clients (Re/ Vi). Some of these had worshipped evil gods (Su). Xerxes' reform destroys their temples, forbids the services, and reorients all religious services to Ahuramazda and the cosmic order (Re/ Pi). What was done in a bad way, is now done in a good way (Pa/ Re). Xerxes teaches the audience: All should live according to God's law and serve him alone (Sha/ Pi). Xerxes prays for protection from evil (Pr). 2.2 Inscriptions from Anatolia 10. The very long story of 'The Manly Deeds of Suppiluliuma, the great king, the hero (Na)'55 is told by his son Mursili II (De). The author refers to Suppiluliuma as 'my father' who met the Kashka enemy (Le). The gods stood by him (Pa) and he was successful (Vi). Suppiluliuma bravely asks to be sent to battle (Pi) in the sick father's stead (Su). The first campaign is to the land of Hatti. Outnumbered, the enemy surrenders (Vi) and goes home in peace (Sha). The grandfather is well and joins the father to attack Masha and Kammala (Vi) and the gods again go before him (Pa). There is rebellion (Su) and all the enemy die (Sha) when it is put down (Vi). The gods marching in front create victory (Di). In fragment 18, the story proceeds with recurent resistance matched by reiterations of near success. For example, there is a rebellion, but the towns

54. ANET, 316-17. 55. Hallo I, 185-92. It survives only in its preliminary composition on clay tablets, used prior to inscription in bronze as explained in the colophon of fragment 28 A: Hallo I, 190b: 'Seventh Tablet, not complete. Not yet made into a bronze tablet.' For an early discussion of the quality of Hittite narrative as heroic story and the following three narratives' relationship to biblical story, see esp. H. Cancik, Mythische und Historische Wahrheit; idem, Grundziige.

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are not returned (Su), Suppiluliuma sends his commander, who is taken by surprise and defeated (Su). Suppiluliuma lays siege to Mount Tiwatassa. When the enemy refuse to fight, Suppiluliuma abandons the siege and chases the enemy, fighting from town to town (Vi). He challenges the King of Mitanni, but the Mitanni king mocks him (Su). A plague breaks out in his army and the towns of Kashka (Su). The gods march in front and the enemy die en masse (Di/ Vi). All fear Suppiluliuma (Sha/ Na). Further extensions of the story are created within a cycle of winters at home and springs on campaign. When the enemy see him, they fear him (Na) and make peace (Vi). All the lands make peace (Sha). But Carchemish does not make peace and lays siege to his town Murmuriga (Su) and his father, with the help of the gods (Di), defeats them (Vi). The narrative is further expanded with an Egyptian conspiracy (Su). Having heard of Suppiluliuma's attack on Amqa, they become afraid (Na). Thutmosis' widow offers to marry one of Suppiluliuma's sons. Suppiluliuma is suspicious of a conspiracy (Su). He lays siege to Carchemish for seven days and takes it in 'a terrific battle on the eighth day' (Go/ Vi). He fears the gods of Carchemish and honours them (Pa/ Pi), taking booty only from the lower town (Pi). Captives brought to the palace were 3,330 (Go), while those his troops took were 'beyond counting' (Sha). In considering the Egyptian offer, the king calls for the 'tablet of treaty', as proper precedent for making a treaty between Egypt and Hatti (Pi). The 7th tablet of the inscription opens with news of the murder of Suppiluliuma's son Zannanza (Su). Suppiluliuma makes a lament (Pr). The gods help him (Di). In reiterating cadence, he destroys one town, spends the night and goes on to the next (Vi). He comes to Timuhala, 'a place of pride'. They humble themselves and he accepts them as clients of Hatti (Pa/ Re). The story continues, but the colophon tells us that the text is incomplete. 11. A short first-person narrative of Tudhaliya IV56 (De) relates the taking of booty from Cyprus (Vi). Tribute is listed in the order of the gods to whom it is dedicated (Pi/ Pa). The text closes with a statement of Suppiluliuma, informing us that his father had not made the statue (De), but Suppiluliuma had, who is son of Tudhaliya and grandson of Hattushili (Le). He declares that he has engraved true exploits (Na/ Pi). He built a mausoleum and put the statue in it (Bu/ De). 12. Separated from the foregoing with a double line,57 a narrative of Suppiluliuma speaks in the first person (De). He declares his heroic status (Na)

56. Hallo I, 192-3; R.H. Beal, 'Kurunta of Tarhuntassa and the Imperial Hittite Mausoleum', Anatolian Studies 43 (1993), 29-39; S. Heinhold-Krahmer, 'Zur Bronzetafel aus Boghazkoy und ihrem historischen Inhalt', Arkiv fur Orientforschung 38-39 (1991-1992), 138-58. 57. H. Hoffner, 'The Last Days of Khattusha', in 'The Crisis Years: The Twelfth Century BCE: From Beyond the Danube to the Tigris, ed. by W. A. Ward (Dubuque, 1992), 46-52; Hallo I, 192-3.

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and lists his titles with references to his father and grandfather (Le). With an uncertain reference to his father, he speaks of crossing the sea to Alashiya. Ships met him in battle three times (Go), whom he defeats and burns (Vi). On coming ashore, large numbers of enemies attack (Su), whom he defeats (VI). The rest of the narrative is lost. The text closes with the reiteration that his father did not make the statue, but that Suppiluliuma had and had built a mausoleum for it (Bu/ De), including assigning villages for its support (Pi). The gods who recognized Tudhaliya's kingship (Pa) will punish anyone changing the arrangements (Di/ Cu). 2.3 Inscriptions from Syria 13. The Ist-person voice (De) of the Idrimi inscription58 identifies the king as 'son of Ilimilimma (Le), servant of Adad, Hepat and Ishtar' (Pa). The narrative begins with the report of a hostile act in Aleppo, causing his family to flee to Emar (Su). Idrimi is the younger brother (Na) who thinks thoughts that no one else thinks (Na/ Pi). He goes into the desert and spends the night with Suteans (Su). He goes to the land of Canaan, where, because of his family ties (Le), he becomes chief of the town Ammiya (Vi/ Na). He lives among Hapiru for seven years (Go/ Su), where he studies birds and divination (Pi) and discovers that Adad turned to him (Pa). He built ships (Bu), took aboard soldiers and travelled north. His land hears of him (Na) and Alalakh and three other cities bring gifts and his allies make a treaty with him (Vi). For seven years Barratarna, the Hurrian king, was hostile (Su). Idrimi writes to him declaring his family's traditional vassal status (Pa/ Le). Idrimi is king in Alalakh (Sha). Kings rise up against him on the left and right (Su) ... and Idrimi puts an end to the warfare (Vi). He goes to war and destroys a list of Hittite vassal cities (Re/ Vi). He did as he pleased (Re). With his booty from Hatti, he builds a house and a throne (Bu), and shares his kingship with his brothers, sons and friends (Sha), and settles those who are settled in his land in better houses, and makes the nomads live in houses (Re). He re-establishes the proper cult of his ancestors (Pi/ Re). Idrimi calls on the gods to curse those who would steal, change or erase the statue or its inscription (Cu) and asks the gods to bless the scribe who has written it (Bl). On the right cheek of the statue is added: 'I was king for 30 years (Go/ Sha). I wrote my achievements (Na) on the statue (De). Let people [read it] and blejss me]' (Pr). 14. The Kalamuwa inscription59 begins in the 1st person (De), with identification of the writer as son of Hayya (Le). The narrative begins in 58. S. Smith, The Statue of Idrimi (London, 1949); J. Sasson, 'On Idrimi and Sarruwa the Scribe', in Nuzi and the Hurrians, ed. by D. Owens (Winona Lake, 1981), 309-24; M. Dietrich and O. Loretz, 'Die Inschrift der Statue des Konigs Idrimi von Alalah', UF 13 (1981), 201-68; ANET, 557-8; Hallo I, 479-80. 59. S. Parker, Stories in Scripture and Inscriptions: Comparative Studies on Narratives in Northwest Semitic Inscriptions and the Hebrew Bible (Oxford, 1997), 76-83; J. Tropper, Die Inschriften von Zincirli, ALASP 6 (Munster, 1993), 27-46; Hallo II, 147f.

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the former times when the Mushkabim lived like dogs (Su). Kalamuwa was, however, father, mother and brother to some (Pa/ Pi). There follows a variant of the 'song for a poor man'60 (Re) to show that Kalamuwa protects the Mushkabim and that they love him (Pa/ Sha). The text closes with curses and the wish that the gods punish successors who damage the inscription or erase it (Pa/ Cu/ Na). 15. The Azatiwada inscription61 begins in the 1st person (De) identifying Azitawada as blessed (Na), servant of Baal (Pa). The speaker is empowered by Awariku the king of the Danunians (Le). He is father and mother to the Danunians, giving them life (Pa/ Pi). With Baal's grace, there was prosperity in his day (Di). The (former) Rebels and all evil (Su) were destroyed (Re/ Vi/ Sha) and he caused his patron to reign on his father's throne (Pa). Because of his righteousness (Na/ Pi), he established peace with every king (W Pi). He built fortresses (Bu) and offers a form of the 'poor-man's song: he makes evil men subject (Re/ Sha); he humbles the strong land of the West and resettles them in the East. Where there had been insecurity he established security (Re). Commissioned by the gods (Pa), he builds and names the city of Azatiwadaya, and establishes offerings for Ba'al (Bu/ Pi). The inscription closes with the hope for blessings, prosperity, long life, strength for every king, fertility and piety (Bl/ Pr). Any who removes his name or gate (Na), may the gods erase that king and kingdom (Cu). 16. The inscription of Yehawmilk62 begins in the 1st person (De) with identification as son of Yeharbaal and grandson of Urimilk (Le), made king by Baalat of Byblos (Na/ Pa). He called to the goddess (Pi) and she heard his voice and gave peace (Sha/ Di). He built an altar and temple to Baalat (Bu). A prayer in the 3rd person asks the mistress of Byblos to lengthen his days (Pr), for he is righteous (Pi) and to give him favor before the gods and the people (Pr). He orders that any later work on the altar bear his name (Bu/ Na), but if anyone removes his name or changes the foundation, Baalat should cause him and his seed to rot before the gods (Cu). 17. The Zakkur inscription63 begins in the 1st person (De). He was raised by Ba'al Shamem (Na/ Pa), who stood by him and made him king of Hazrach

60. Th. L. Thompson, The Messiah Myth, chapter 4 and Appendix 1. 61. M. L. Barre, 'An Analysis of the Royal Blessing in the Karatepe Inscription', Maarav 3 (1982), 177-94; K. L. Younger, 'The Phoenician Inscription of Azatiwada: An Integrated Reading', JSS 43 (1998), 11-47; Hallo II, 148-50. 62. S. Moscati, The Phoenicians (New York, 1988), 305; Hallo II, 151-2. 63. J. Greenfield, 'The Zakir Inscription and the Danklied', Proceedings of the Fifth World Congress of Jewish Studies, I (Jerusalem, 1972), 174-91; B. Otzen, 'The Aramaic Inscriptions', Hama II, 2, ed. by P. J. Rijs and M. L: Buhl (Copenhagen, 1990), 267-318; Hallo II, 155.

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(Na/ Pa). Bar-Hadad of Aram, together with 17 kings, conspired against him and laid siege to Hazrach (Su). He prayed to Baal Shamem who answered him (Di/Pa), saying through seers and diviners that he should not be afraid (Pi). Ba'al will save him (Di). He built Hazrach and its defences. He built shrines (Bu) and wrote his achievements on this monument (Na). The inscription closes with the prayer (Pr) that any who erase his deeds (Na) or remove the monument be cursed by the gods (Cu). 18. The Hadad inscription64 begins in the 1st person (De), identifying Panamuwa as son of Qarli, king of Y'dy (Le) who erected this statue to Hadad in 'my eternal abode (Pi/ Pa)'; that is, his tomb. The gods supported him and gave him dominion (Di). Whatever he took up or asked of the gods, they granted (Pi). He restored the land's fertility and prosperity (Re). He reigned on the throne of his father and he eliminated war and slander (Su/ Vi/ Sha). The people of Q'dy were prosperous (Sha). He built towns and villages (Bu). He made offerings to the gods and they were delighted in him (Pi/ Pa). He prays that whichever of his sons succeed him maintain his memory with the gods (Pr). He also prays that he remember his name (Na) and that Hadad not reject him and give him sleepless nights and terror (Pr). He closes with the wish that his successor not act in violence and that no one be put to death (Bl). He then offers a discourse on treachery (Pi). 19. The Panamuwa inscription65 begins in the 1st person (De), identifying the statue as one that Bar Rakib set up for his father, Panamuwa, king of Y'dy (De/ Le). The gods of Y'dy delivered Panamuwa (Pa/ Di) from the destruction that was in his father's house (Re/ Su). A damaged part of the inscription states that his father Barsur was assassinated with his seventy brothers (Su). Panamuwa mounted a chariot and escaped (Vi). The usurper filled prisons and created ruins more numerous than towns (Su). Panamuwa's resistance creates inflation (Su). Panamuwa brings a gift to the king of Assyria (Pi), who makes Panamuwa king over his father's house (Pa). He then 'kills the stone of destruction (VI)', and gives a short form of the 'poor man's song' (Re). He organized proper government (Pi) and was esteemed among kings (Na). He was rich, wise and loyal. He lived and Y'dy also lived (Sha). He was at the Assyrian king's side in war (Pa) and transported the people of the east to the west and profited more than all others (Re). He died in the service of the king of Assyria (Pi), who, with his relatives and all the Assyrian camp, wept (Na) and brought his body from Damascus to Assyria (Vi). In a postscript, Bar Rakib states that, because of his father's loyalty (Le), Tiglath-pileser caused him to sit on his father's throne (Pa). The inscription closes, asking that the gods show him favour (Pr). 64. J. Tropper, Inschriften, 54-97; H. Niehr, 'Zum Totenkult der Konige von Sam'al im 9. Und 8. Jh.v.Chr.', SEL 11 (1994), 58-73; Hallo //, 156-8. 65. J. Tropper, Inschriften, 98-139; K. Younger, 'Panammuwa and Bar-Rakib: Two Structural Analyses', JANES 18 (1986), 91-100; Hallo II, 158-60.

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20. The Bar-Rakib inscription66 begins in the 1st person (De), with the statement that he is son of Panamuwa, king of Sam'al, servant of Tiglathpileser (Le/ Pa), who, because of his loyalty, gave him the throne (Le). The land prospered (Sha) and he was with the Assyrian king in war (Pi), along with powerful, rich kings (Na). He took control of his father's house and made it better than that of the powerful kings (Re/ Pi). The text closes with reference to building his palace (Bu). What is immediately striking from the paraphrase and classification of these 20 narratives is how little the themes of these stories depart from the tradition and symbol system of ancient Near Eastern royal ideology as expressed in New Kingdom victory songs. Not only the language, but, to some extent, the progression and pattern of narrative are relatively consistent and stereotypical. This encourages us to speak of a specific, interactive scribal tradition, genre and story type. The stereotypical character of this pattern is most marked in the shorter, simpler narratives, such as the Zakkur (17), Panamuwa (19), Suppiluliuma (12) and Sargon (1) inscriptions. More complex descriptions are found in the Mursili II (10) and Idrimi (13) inscriptions, which create complexity through patterned repetitions and the use of stock adventure themes, such as the expansion of the theme of past suffering with motifs of wandering and exile. Apart from such thematic functions, which adhere to the pattern of a testimony to the just king, however, our narratives offer little concrete information to the reader. The Mursili inscription does complicate its narrative and introduces a wide rhetorical range, with a display of considerable dramatic technique, but, thematically, it offers but constant reiteration in its presentation of a succession of just kings. It is a good example of expanding a story into a chain-narrative. The unique and the specific rarely play major roles in these inscriptions. The stereotypical dominates in all of our examples. This is most strikingly underlined by the very limited success in distinguishing between the thematic functions related to a specific conquest over a named enemy and the more universal declarations of strength and victory over hardship, suffering, cosmic evil or generic enemies. When a specific victory could be acknowledged, as in the Sargon (1), Yahdun-Lim (2), Nabonidus II (7) or Cyrus (8) inscriptions, it functions as an example of the generic. My geographical division of the narratives seems justified. While the thematic elements are generally consistent in Mesopotamia, Hatti and SyriaPalestine, as in Egypt, both the specific selection of thematic functions and the choice of rhetoric and motifs to support such functions seem to distinguish themselves regionally. For example, the inscriptions from Mesopotamia follow the pattern of testimony set by the Sargon (1), Yahdun-Lim (2) and Esarhaddon (4) inscriptions. Those from Syria are also quite at home in this tradition, but often distinguish themselves in two ways: by interpreting

66. J. Troppet, Inschriften, 132-9; K. Younger, 'Panammuwa', 100-3;'Ha//o II, 160-1.

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the function of patronage through the mediation of the great king and by being more consistent in their pattern of closure around prayers, blessings and curses. While these inscriptions distinguish themselves clearly from the chronicle form of campaign inscriptions, the Anatolian texts seem to overlap with the campaign type. On the other hand, these Hittite texts are more explicitly memorial inscriptions and are rhetorically much more dramatic. The text of Esarhaddon's story (4) distinguishes itself by being taken up with the king's self-identification as restorer of the cult.

3. Thematic Functions and the Mesha Stele 3.1 Paraphrase and identification by function The Mesha inscription,67 in the first person, identifies the king (De) as son and successor of Chemosh-[?], King of Moab, who reigned for 30 years (Go/ Le). It is set up in a sanctuary dedicated to Chemosh (Bu), because he delivered him from all his enemies (De/ Pa/ Re). Mesha recounts that Omri, King of Israel, had long oppressed Moab because Chemosh was angry (Su). This oppression was intensified by his successor (Su). Mesha, however, has triumphed and Israel was totally destroyed (Vi). The narrative is reiterated: Omri lived in Madeba in his time and half the time of his son: 40 years (Go/ Su),68 but Chemosh lives there in Mesha's time (Re/ Pa/ Sha). Mesha builds Baal Meon and Kiriathaim (Bu). The Gadities were indigenous to Ataroth and the king of Israel built the city (Su). Mesha captured the city (Vi) and dedicated the population as a sacrifice to Chemosh (Pa/ Pi). He returned the Arel (?)69 to Kemosh (Re/ Bu?) and settled there the people of Sharon and Maharith (Re). Chemosh instructed Mesha to take Nebo from Israel (Di). He marched by night and fought from dawn until noon (Go), took the city (Vi), and killed the people (7,000) for Ashtar-Chemosh (Go/ Pa/ Pi). He took from there the [?] of Yahweh and brought it before Chemosh (Re/ Bu?). The king of

67. R. Doussaud, Les monuments palestiniens et judaiques au Musee du Louvre (Paris, 1912), 4-22; H. Dormer and W. Rollig, Kanaandische und Aramaische Inschriften (Wiesbaden, 1962-), text 181; J. Gibson, Textbook of Syrian Semitic Inscriptions, vol. I (Oxford, 1971), 71-83; E. Ullendorf, 'The Moabite Stone', Documents from Old Testament Times, ed. by D. W. Thomas (New York, 1958), 195-7: W. F. Albright, "The Moabite Stone', ANET, 320-1; K. A. D. Smelik, The Inscription of King Mesha', Hallo II, 137-8. 68. My classification is based on the parallelism between Omri and Chemosh, suggesting a motif of hubris as in the Rabshakeh's speech of the Hezekiah story in Isa. 36.7. 69. The association of Arel with dwd in the Mesha story is much discussed. See now the dissertation of G. Athas, The Tel Dan Inscription: A Reappraisal and a New Interpretation, CIS 12 (Sheffield, 2003). The possible occurrence of the theophoric epithet dwd in Transjordan is interesting as the name of the divine wd (Arabic dwd: 'the god') with crescent and star, marking the Nabatean god of love and care of others, similar to the Samaritan understanding of Yahweh, occurs in two inscriptions found at the Nabatean caravanserai of Qaryat al Faw in the Hijaz (courtesy of the museum of Imam Mohammed Ibn Saud Islamic University in Riyadh).

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Israel had built Jahaz (Bu) and dwelt there (Su/ Pa), but Chemosh drove him before Mesha (EH). With 200 men (Go) Mesha took the town (Vi). He built Karchoh, Aroer and the road in the Arnon (Bu). He rebuilt Beth Bamoth and Bezer, which had been in ruins (Bu/ Re). All Diban is subject to him and he is king over 100 towns (Pa/ Go/ Sha). A campaign was taken against Horonaim, apparently also occupied by Israel (Su). Chemosh sent Mesha against the city (Di). The town was taken (Vi) and Chemosh has returned to the city (Pa).... The closure of the text is lost. Table of Thematic Functions in Royal Inscriptions

Sargon Yahdun Lim Assur-banipal Eshar-haddon Nebuchadnezza Nabonidus 1 Nabonidus 2 Cyrus Xerxes Suppiluliuma 1 Tudhal iya Suppiluliuma 2 Idrimi Kalamuwa Azatiwada Yehawmilk Zakkur Hadad Panamuwa Bar-Rakib Mesha

De

Le

Pa

Pi

Su

Di

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

X X X X X X X X X X

X? X X X X X X X X

X X

X

Vi

Re

Na

X X X X X X X X X X X X X

X X X X X X X X X X

X X X X X X X X

X

X X

X

X X X

X X

X X

X

X

X

X

X X X X X X X X

Bu X X X X X

X X X X X X X X X X

X X X

Go

Sha

X

X X X X X X X X

X X X X X X X X X

X X X X X

X

X

X X X X X X X X

3.2 Description of the thematic functions De: Dedication of the Memorial Among the texts considered in this paper, the first person voice seems to be used for its rhetorical and dramatic qualities, identifying the voice of the text with the king who is memorialized by the inscription. The Idrimi stele (13) illustrates this pictorially with a cartoon balloon, presenting the last lines of the text as coming out of the king's mouth. Of the 13 inscriptions that follow a

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first-person pattern,70 only the Idrimi statue explicitly presents the king's reign as complete, allowing some to argue that it is a posthumous inscription.71 It uses the same motif of 30 years72 that the Mesha stele attributes to Mesha's father.73 Most, however, like the Mesha stele, only imply a completeness of the king's reign. The first of the Nabonidus inscriptions (6), on the other hand, seems to have a function similar to that of the Akitu festival: seeking the blessing of a long rule to come.74 The Yahdun-Lim inscription (2), also ending with a prayer for a long rule, is written in the 3rd person and seems oriented to the dedication of a temple rather than to the fullness of the king's life. The Esarhaddon inscription and its variants (4), though taking up only the beginning of the king's reign, ends with the prayer that his dynasty endure. The Mursili II inscription (10), also written in the 3rd person, is about the deeds of his father Suppiluliuma. The unfinished nature of the text leaves it unclear whether the inscription is a memorial dedicated to the (former) king, Suppiluliuma. The first half of the Cyrus inscription is in the 3rd person, while the 1st person address of the second half prays for a long reign. The reference to Cyrus' son Cambysses leaves the fullness of the description of his reign uncertain. Similarly, the inscription of Xerxes (9), though beginning in the 3rd person, also uses the 1st person. The prayer for blessing when he dies allows for an (uncertain) posthumous reading. The Ist-person inscription of Tudhaliya IV (11) is clearly posthumous, as it closes with a statement of his son who places the statue in his father's mausoleum. This is confirmed in the attached Ist-person narrative of Suppiluliuma (12). Much like the Tudhaliya/ Suppiluliuma inscriptions, the Hadad (18) and Panamuwa (19) inscriptions begin in the Ist-person voice of Panamuwa. The Hadad inscription, however, places the statue in Panamuwa's 'eternal abode', suggesting that it is posthumous. This is perhaps confirmed by the prayer that his son and successor maintain his memory with the gods. The Panamuwa inscription, also written in the 1st person, finds Bar Rakib presenting his father's life in the 3rd person. A postscript attributes Bar Rakib's succession to the loyalty of his father. Although all of our inscriptions are clearly dedicated to presenting the deeds of the king in a memorial of the king as ideal ruler and his life in 70. The inscriptions of Sargon (1), Assurbanipal n (3), (4), Nebuchadnezzar II (5), 1. Nabonidus 1 (7), 2. Nabonidus (8), Idrimi (13), Kalamuwa (14), Azatiwada (15), Yehawmilk (16), Zakkur (17) and Bar-Rakib (20). 71. J. Sasson, 'On Idrimi and Sharruwa, the Scribe', in Nuzi and the Hurrians, ed. by M. A. Morrison and D. I. Owen (Eisenbrauns: Winona Lake, 1981), 309-24. 72. On the significance of numbers such as 30, 40, etc., see, most recently, N. P. Lemche, 'Prasgnant tid i Det gamle Testamente', 'Tiden' i bibelsk belysning, Forum for bibelsk eksegese 11, ed. by G. Hallback and N. P. Lemche (Frederiksberg, 2001), 29-47. 73. The similarly structured Ist-person narrative of Nabonidus' mother Adad-Guppi not only has her describe her whole life as comprising 104 years in the fullness of old age, but also has a 3rd-person postscript, which recounts her burial and mourning services (Hallo I, 478; ANET, 312, 562. 74. In marked contrast to the second of the Nabonidus inscriptions (7), which closes with an address to his successors.

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its wholeness, the voice neither signifies personal authorship nor, of itself, determines the text as posthumous.75 The Mesha stele, using the Ist-person address, describes the king as the son of Chemosh-(X).76 Similar to the Hadad inscription (18), in which the statue of the king is dedicated to the deity in Panamuwa's burial place, the Mesha stele places the monument in a shrine for Chemosh, in gratitude to the god for 'having protected him from all his enemies'. The Mesha dedication is very similar in function to the scene-setting dedication of David's song in 2 Sam. 22.1, which, also centred in royal ideology, interprets David's life at its close in a form that harmonizes the Psalter's perspective with the narrative of the Books of Samuel: 'David sang this song to Yahweh, after he had saved him from all his enemies (and from Saul).' Le: Statement of Legitimation This function usually identifies the king as son, or as son and grandson, of his predecessors. The Azatiwada (15) inscription uses the patronage of Awariku, the king of the Danunians, in order to confirm legitimacy. The BarRakib inscription (20) similarly refers to his father, king of Sam'al, as client of Tiglath-pileser, while the Cyrus inscription (8) refers to his father and grandfather, as those 'whom the gods loved', tying the function of legitimacy to divine patronage. The Idrimi (13) inscription not only refers to the Human king Barratarna as his family's traditional patron, it links his legitimacy to divine patronage by identifying Idrimi as 'son of Ilimilimma, servant of Adad, Hepat and Ishtar'. While the Esarhaddon inscription (4) seems to use royal titles in support of legitimacy, the Zakkur inscription (17) lacks the specific function of legitimacy entirely, declaring that it was Ba'al Shamem who made him king of Hazrach. In regard to function, this is only a step removed from Sargon's claim of miraculous birth and divine parentage, as son of a priestess and of a father unknown. In the Mesha stele, this function is fulfilled in the designation of Mesha as successor to his father, King of Moab, from Dhiban. In biblical tradition, this function is closely paralleled in the opening dedications of such works as Proverbs and Ecclesiastes, presenting the texts as the collected reflections of the wise king, Solomon.

75. Contra Th. L. Thompson, 'Problems of Genre'. See J. A. Emerton, 'The Value of the Moabite Stone'. 76. W. L. Reed and E V. Winnett ('A Fragment of an Early Moabite Inscription from Kerak', BASOR 172 (1963, 1-9) identify this name on the basis of another inscription from Kerak which bears the royal name ...KJmsyt, which Smelik's translation of the Mesha inscription identifies with Mesha's father and renders Kemosh[yatti] (Hallo II, 137). See also H.Donner and W. Rollig, Kanaandische und Aramaische Inschriften, II, 170. However, S. Timm (Moab zwischen den Mdchten (Wisbaden, 1989), 269-77) attributes this inscription to Mesha himself. See, also, H.-P. Mullet, Rechts- und Wirtschaftsurkunden Historischchronologische Texte, Texte aus der Umwelt des alten Testaments, I (Giitersloh, 1985), 646.

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Pa: Declaration of the king as chosen by the gods or as servant of the divine patron The function of patronage, closely tied to that of legitimacy, is usually fulfilled by a declaration that the patron deity, or the gods, choose and stand by the king, go before him in battle, listen to his prayers, entrust the king with his kingdom, turn the hearts of the people to the king or - as in the Panamuwa inscription (19) - save him from past destruction. The king declares himself to be the client, servant or worshipper of the divine, gives tribute to the gods or calls on them to carry out his curse. Yahdun-Lim (2) identifies Shamash as patron of Mari, and Assurbanipal II (3) declares himself the favourite of the gods. The Sargon inscription (1) acknowledges this function implicitly through the special thematic element of heroic birth and his claim to be Ishtar's lover and her father's gardener. Similarly, Zakkur (17) is raised by Ba'al Shamem. The Bar Rakib text (20) is the singular exception, in that it identifies the king as servant of Tiglath-pileser, who gives him - like Panamuwa (19) - the throne. Particularly rich and variable for theological instruction, the thematic element of divine patronage in the Mesha stele is the central dramatic element of Mesha's life story. The stele uses the dedication to Chemosh, who 'protected him from all his enemies', in order to introduce the ensuing story as illustration in an elaborate narrative of retribution and reversal in the fortunes of Israel and Moab. Through a succession of reiterated narrative, the theme of divine patronage is marked by a continuous thread which reiterates an opposition between the human Omri and the divine Chemosh and their 'dwelling in the land', a phrase marking their patronage or kingship over the land. This theme continues until the narrative breaks off at the point that Chemosh returns to the town of Horonaim. In the first reiterations of this theme, the story's opposition between Omri and his son and the divine Chemosh is paraphrastic. In their hubris - but also serving as instruments of Chemosh's anger at his land - they oppress Moab and dwell in Madeba. The successful reversal of this unfortunate situation is described in two variant modes: a) Israel is totally destroyed and b) Israel's presence is replaced by that of Chemosh, who now dwells in the land in Mesha's time. The patronage of Israel expressed by the oppression and occupation of Omri and his son is replaced by the reassertion of divine patronage. As already pointed out, this central theme of the Mesha stele can be compared to a similarly functioning passage in Merneptah's stele, in which Israel is presented as the spouse of Hurru (Palestine) and as the source of the land's fertility. In the short poem in which this trope is found, the example of Egyptian hegemony over Palestine is used to epitomize Merneptah's patronage over the 'nine bows', representing the world outside Egypt. It is a song celebrating the ideal order and shalom which Merneptah's victory over the Lybians has re-established. Asserting Merneptah's role as Hurru's patron, Israel plays the role of former patron. With the reassertion of Merneptah's patronage, Israel's seed is no more and the land is turned into a wasteland, her children destroyed. Hurru becomes a widow for Merneptah; that is, Merneptah now replaces Israel as the source of the land's fertility.77

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A further similarity between these two scenes in the Mesha and Merneptah steles is the eponymic personification of the literary figure of 'Israel' as former husband in the Merneptah stele, and the figure of Omri (as eponym for Bit Humri) as former patron in the Mesha inscription. Assertions of divine patronage similar to that of the Mesha stele also dominate the Pentateuch and are found elsewhere in biblical tradition,78 as, e.g., in Psalm 9.6-8. The names of the godless nations are eternally erased, their cities are turned into deserts and their memory lost; instead Yahweh is enthroned forever. The theological core of the element expressed so lightly in the Mesha stele's reference to the son of Omri's hubris - in contrast to Chemosh's divine will - is epitomized in Psalm 9. 20's pithy evocation: 'Let the nations know they are but human.'79 Pi: Declaration of innocence, piety or virtue in office The declaration of the king's virtue, piety and dutiful fulfillment of office is present in all of our texts, which together reflect an interesting spectrum of possibilities, of which, surely, Sargon's (1) self-presentation as Ishtar's lover, and as Adam-like gardener for her father, is the epitome. More typical is Yahdun-Lim's (2) fulfillment of more standard kingly duties: digger of canals, builder, erector of stele and provider for his people, and especially Assurbanipal IPs (3), Esharhaddon's (4), Nebuchadnezzar IPs (5), Cyrus'(8), Azatiwada's (15) and Yehawmilk's (16) role as the wise, just, righteous ruler who brings peace. He may be, like Xerxes (9) or Panamuwa (18), a teacher to his people, or, like Kalamuwa (14) and Azatiwada (15), as family to his people. He, like Esharhaddon (4) and Nabonidus (7), is hesitant to seek power. Like Nabonidus (6), he is innocent and mourns at the departure of the gods. Like Suppiluliuma (10), he interprets tradition judiciously before making decisions, or like Idrimi (13) he practices extispicy. Like Zakkur (17), he listens to seers and diviners, or, like Nabonidus (6,7), he receives dreams and prays with Panamuwa (18). He is like Suppiluliuma (10), who, though brave in seeking battle with the enemy, fears their gods and, like Assurbanipal (3), follows their instructions. He writes the truth about his great deeds (Tudhaliya IV: 11) and provides support for his father's mausoleum (Suppiluliuma: 12). Less typically, Panamuwa (19) and Bar Rakib (20), as client kings, are good servants to a human great king. In the Mesha stele, the role of the king as dutiful servant of Chemosh, is theologically subordinated to the presentation of Chemosh as patron, where Mesha's role as dutiful client is held implicit. The theme appears explicitly only in the dedication of captives in sacrifice to Chemosh, but even here, the role of Chemosh as patron dominates Mesha's role in piety as humble servant. 77. I. Hjelm and Th. L. Thompson, 'The Victory Song of Merneptah'. 78. See the discussion in Th. L. Thompson, 'Kingship and the Wrath of God'. 79. A similar conflict of patronage and the accompanying motif of hubris challenging proper divine patronage are among the thematic elements which dominate the Hezekiah story of Isaiah 36-37: see, I. Hjelm, Jerusalem's Rise to Sovereignty: Zion and Gerizim in Competition, CIS 14 (London, 2004), 93-168.

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This king does nothing of himself, apart from Chemosh's patronage. The contrasting biblical story in which Saul does not dedicate Agag to Yahweh as he was commanded, in 1 Samuel 15, uses this same thematic ideal of the king as humble servant of the divine as its centre. It uses Saul's lack of such piety as the effective cause of his fate and fall from grace. The Bible's story is cast within a discourse on divine patronage, which centres on the incompatibility of human and divine perspectives of kingship. Saul, in his hubris, follows the human view of what a king is. In contrast, the Mesha story is cast as an example story of the ruler as ideal servant of the only true king, the divine Chemosh.80 Su: Description of past suffering, evil, rebellion or the anger of the gods Past suffering or need - often portrayed as having threatened the king's rule or as having been caused by divine anger against the land - allows a contrast between a time before and a time after the king's accession to the throne. It functions as the element that drives the story's plot to its resolution. While the thematic functions of patronage and piety present the context and aesthetic in which the narrative works, the theme of suffering opens the story's plot. Narratives such as Tudhaliya IV's (11) and Bar-Rakib's (20), which lack this element, also lack a clear plot line. They present themselves as unfettered self-advertisements of the good king. In both the Yehawmilk inscription (16), in which the king calls to the goddess for help, and the Hadad text (18) in which the king portrays himself as having eliminated both war and slander, the thematic element of suffering, as in Assurbanipal's narrative (3) is only implied. The classic fairy-tale form of the thematic element of a threat to the hero as a child opens the Sargon story (1). Like Moses in his basket on the Nile, Sargon is cast adrift in a basket of rushes on the Euphrates and finds other close variants in stories of heroic births such as are found in the Oedipus and Jesus legends. This element does not find its like among the inscriptions compared in this paper, and marks an important distinction between the Sargon legend and the Mesha narrative. Far closer to the Mesha stele is the element of rebellion or of conspiracy that are ubiquitous in Assyrian campaign texts. Variants to this theme are found in the Yahdun-Lim (2), the Zakkur (17) and, especially, the Azatiwada (15) narratives. Greatly expanded in the reiterated episodes of rebellions and conspiracy in the Mursili II narrative (10), reaching their high point with the treacherous murder of his son, this element of suffering clearly functions as illustration of an evil to be overcome by the good king. For some of our narratives, evil or suffering is attributed to the king's predecessor. So Panamuwa (19) is delivered from the destruction that existed in his father's house and Kalamuwa (14) refers to the former times when the people 'lived like dogs'. The thematic element of suffering to be overcome lies very close to the elements of divine patronage and of reversals 80. Th. L. Thompson, 'He is Yahweh; He Does What is Right in his Own Eyes: The Old Testament as a Theological Discipline IT, Tro og Historic, Forum for Bibelsk Eksegese 7 (Frederiksberg, 1996), 246-62.

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of fortune in most of the inscriptions. The plot of Nebuchadnessar II (5) is set in motion by the need created by the god who wants timber from a Lebanon that is controlled by foreigners and robbers. As in the Bible, the gods are responsible for their people's fate. In the Esarhaddon text (4), where the story begins in the former evil days, the king also deals with angry gods who flood Babylon and send its people into slavery.81 In the Nabonidus text (6), because the Mandeans had destroyed the temples and cult places, the king needs to declare his innocence and mourn for the loss of the gods. Similarly, Cyrus (8) must deal with the godlessness of the former king, Nabonidus, by bringing the gods back from exile. Xerxes (9), after putting down rebellion, must himself - like Hezekiah and Josiah - destroy the temples of evil gods. For him, the god Ahuramazda - like Yahweh in Joshua 24 - is alone the people's patron. The most dramatic development of this theme of suffering is found in the Nabonidus (7), Idrimi (13) and Panamuwa (19) inscriptions. The plot is expanded with the classical folklore motif of the success of the unpromising,82 an expansion which is reiterated frequently in the biblical David and Moses traditions. Functionally, it plays the same role as the thematic element of the child abandoned that we find in the Sargon inscription (1) and stands perhaps in contrasting tension to alternative narratives, which have more traditional elements of legitimation. Idrimi, like Esarhaddon (4), is the younger brother, who thinks thoughts his brothers do not, while Nabonidus, like Sargon, is alone in the world. He did not seek greatness, but had it thrust upon him. Idrimi's family is forced to flee, while Panamuwa has a father and 70 brothers assassinated. Idrimi and Nabonidus flee to the desert, the one for seven and the other for ten years, while Panamuwa, escaping in a chariot, suffers a usurper who creates a desert of his homeland. All three kings are protected and helped by the gods, all make friends and win the support of the people and are ultimately placed on the thrones which the gods wished for them. Related to the variations of this plot-oriented element of personal suffering through exile, is the suffering of the people that is marked by Esarhaddon's (4) Jeremiah-like 70 years of desolation (Jer. 25.11-12; 29.10), but also the function of Lebanon's scattered people that evokes Nebuchadnezzar IPs (5) saviour's role. The motif of former suffering in the Mesha stele is dominated by the portrayal of the oppression of Omri and his son and the hubris of their occupation of Madeba and of Moab's towns. Moab suffers because of Chemosh's anger against the land. This anger brought Omri and his sons to oppress the land as a divine punishment. However, the hubris of Omri and his son challenges Chemosh's role as king and allows Mesha his ideologically necessary role as saviour. The closest biblical parallel to the use of the thematic element of past suffering lies in the motif of the nations in uproar 81. Marking Exodus 15 in which Yahweh sends a flood against the Egyptians and frees Israel from slavery as a dramatic reversal of such a fate. 82. See Th. L. Thompson and D. Irvin, 'The Joseph and Moses Narratives', in J. H. Hayes and J. M. Miller, Israelite and Judean History (Philadelphia, 1977), 190.

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against Yahweh and his Messiah, as in Psalm 2.1-2. Aspects of this element, such as the portrayal of foreign conquest and occupation as acts of divine wrath or of human hubris, present themselves in the Immanuel motif of Isaiah 7.14 and especially in the portrayal of Sennacherib's hubris in the Hezekiah story of Isaiah 36-3S.83 This thematic element of the Mesha story is reiterated in the letter of Jeremiah to the exiles who had been taken to Babylon by Nebuchadnezzar because of Yahweh's anger. That anger is to last until the appointed time - 70 years - when he will turn to them with mercy and bring them home (Jer. 29.1-14). Di: Recognition of divine participation as the primary cause of change The use of gods in stories, playing a role as more than objects of prayer, but as affecting the world directly through their acts and administrative direction, occurs in only some of the inscriptions. The Sargon (1), Yahdun-Lim (2), Esarhaddon (4), Tudhaliya IV (11), Suppiluliuma (12) and Kalamuwa (14) stories, for example, find it sufficient to present the gods in the relatively passive role of the king's patrons. The gods are not mentioned at all in the Bar-Rakib (20) inscription. While Shamash listens to Yahdun-Lim (2) and Marduk entrusts Esarhaddon with power (4), Asshur chooses Assurbanipal II (3), proclaims his reign and, later, gives him instructions for the hunt. In some of our stories, however, the gods play essential roles in the stories themselves. They often initiate the narrative plotlines as when they ask Nebuchadnezzar II (5) for timber from the Lebanon. Similarly they deliver Panamuwa (19) from the destruction of his father's house. They themselves caused past suffering as when they ordered Sennacherib (6) to destroy Babylon or when they withdrew from the city and left the temples empty and the people like living dead in Cyrus' story (8). The gods order Cyrus to attack the city that their power might be seen ever the greater when the people respond to his attack without resistance. They welcome Cyrus as a sign of Marduk's mercy. In contrast it is a godless Nabonidus who suffers defeat in Cyrus' inscription. It is, moreover, hardly idle to wonder whether the theological attack on Nabonidus we find in this story reflects an inter-textual response to the piety of Nabonidus' own story (7). Just such dramatic involvement of the gods dominates the second Nabonidus text (7) and marks such a control of events that one must also see Marduk responsible when fate turns against Nabonidus. The gods - like Yahweh in Exodus - control all action in the story. They call Nabonidus to kingship, choose him to rebuild the temple and give him lands to rule. They turn the land into a desert and watch over him. They cause enemies to become friends and they break the weapons of his eternal opponents. They cause his own people to love him and appoint the day for an end of suffering and exile. Similarly, but less dramatically, Hadad protects Panamuwa (18) and grants him all that he undertakes or asks. When the king gains victory over his enemies in battle, the gods are with him, responsible for his victory. In Xerxes' 83. I. Hjelm, 'The Hezekiah Narrative'.

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story (9), they put down rebellion, and they march in front of Suppiluliuma's army in Mursili IPs story (10), causing the enemy to die en masse and to fear Suppiluliuma. In the inscriptions of Mursili II (10), Yehawmilk (16) and Zakkur (17) - and to some extent in the Azatiwada narrative (15) - the help of the gods in war is presented in a set pattern. It begins in the theme of past suffering and presents the reversal of destiny as a response to the king's humble request for help. With the king's prayer or lament, the divine patron answers him and creates victory over his enemies. This pattern is central to the David psalms in the Psalter.84 In Idrimi's story (13), the gods are presented as more distant. Though no less responsible for the king's fate, divine intentions are less immediate. They are discovered through dreams and divination: a trope that is reflected when David uses the ephod to learn of Yahweh's intentions from the priest at Keila (1 Sam. 23.10-12), as also when Saul seeks understanding from the witch of Endor, after dreams, the Urim and the prophets had failed him (1 Sam. 28.6-7). In Mesha's story, the god Chemosh - like Marduk in the Nabonidus story - is very active. He is solely responsible for all that occurs in Moab. The stele is dedicated to Chemosh because he had delivered Mesha from all his enemies (cf. 2 Sam. 22.1). The ensuing story is a history of salvation, resulting from divine acts in this world. It begins in the more distant past, setting the scene with the theme of suffering, created by Mesha's anger. In the story's present, however, that suffering is past and Chemosh now lives in Moab during Mesha's time and instructs Mesha to take Nebo away from Israel. In the reiterative progression of the story, Chemosh defeats Israel and drives the Israelites before Mesha at Jahaz. He sends the king, his servant, against Horonaim, takes the city and returns there to live. The role that Chemosh plays in this story is less miraculous and dramatically active than the role of Yahweh in the stories of his conquest of Jericho, Ai and Gibeon (Josh. 6-10). It resembles, rather, some of the lesser stories of Joshua's conquest of Judah (Josh. 10.28-43). Vi: Declaration of strength and of the victory over hardship, suffering, evil or enemies The thematic function of celebrating a specific historical conquest is found relatively infrequently in our texts. This function usually serves as illustration of a victory over a more cosmic evil. Even more usually, it is part of a reiterated narrative leading up to such a declaration. Specific episodes of conquest over enemies serve as minor illustrations of the king's greater goals as the good king and servant of the gods in their struggle against a more transcendent evil.85 So, 84. Cf. Th. L. Thompson, 'From the Mouth of Babes: Strength, Psalm 8,3 and the Book of Isaiah', SJOT 16 (2002), 226-45; Th. L. Thompson, 'Historic og teologi i overskrifterne til Davids salmer', Collegium Biblicum Arbog 1997, 88-102. 85. This is also a problem in reading the Merneptah stele, where the conquest over Lybia takes on cosmic proportions, hardly distinguishable from the victory over the nine bows, which the conquest over Lybia evokes. One is dependent on other texts to establish the historicity of the Lybian conquest (I. Hjelm and Th. L. Thompson, 'The Victory Song of Merneptah').

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Azatiwada (15), because of his righteousness, establishes peace with every king, causing evil men to be subject to his power. The Hadad inscription (18) has Panamuwa eliminate 'war and slander', much as he 'kills the stone of destruction' in the Panamuwa inscription (19). While distinctions between generic victories and specific conquests are common enough, making this distinction does not support a greater or lesser historicity adhering to such specific illustrations. On the other hand, the specificity of the element does draw attention to potential historical oppositions which the narrative plot holds implicit. For example, Sargon's conquest over Dilmun and his destruction of the Kazallu (1) and Yahdun-Lim's defeat of three named rebel kings (2), including the account of a massacre and an annexation, serve more generic functions and support the king's celebratory role of peace-maker, essential to his role in the building projects in his capital. Nebuchadnezzar's (5) destruction of the enemy to make everyone happy has a similar function in his story, as does Tudhaliya FV's (11) taking of booty from Cyprus. Also markedly generic is the series of sea battles fought by Suppiluliuma (12), which precedes the defeat of enemies 'in large numbers' on Cyprus. The anomalous claim of Cyrus (8) of having defeated the godless Nabonidus, which stands entirely on its own, separate from his freedom march into Babylon, marks such specific events not as historic, but as symbolic and representative. This is strikingly supported by the detailed use of this element in the Mursili II text (10). The king successfully meets the Kashka enemy, which success introduces a long series of battles and rebellions in the land of Hatti. Mursili's incursion allows a victory delayed by reversals (Masha and Kammala, and, in fragment 18, the siege of Mount Tiwatassa, with its ensuing running battle from town to town). Because of the Mitanni king's hubris, plague breaks out in his army and in the towns of Kashka. With the gods marching before him, Suppiluliuma conquers his enemies who die en masse and learn to fear him (cf. Ps. 18.31-48). After a series of peacemaking over years, the story finally centres on a decisive and successful siege of Carchemish. A further complication is created with an Egyptian conspiracy to destroy the peace with the murder of Suppiluliuma's son. After praying, Suppiluliuma has the gods with him as he, once again, conquers town after town in reiterating cadences. The theme of victory over evil is frequently presented as a direct response to the element of suffering or need. Sargon (1), in his role as abandoned child in danger, is found and reared by the labourer in secret. The theme of victory opens the plot line in Yahdun-Lim's claim to be the first to reach the Euphrates. Assurbanipal II's golden-age declaration (3), that he has conquered all the lands from the Tigris to the Lebanon and from the Subnat to Urartu, is so comprehensive that one could equally see this as an illustration of the theme of a Utopian shalom, rather than as one of victory over hardship or evil.86 In a variant of the Esarhaddon inscription (4), the element of victory over enemies is presented within a prayer for support of Esarhaddon's kingdom. Similarly,

86. Cf. 1 Kings 5.1: 'Solomon ruled over all the kingdoms from the Euphrates to the land of the Philistines: all the way to the border of Egypt.'

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the first of the Nabonidus inscriptions (6), presents the king's obtaining 'all that he wishes' apart from any military conquest, while the second text (7) presents the gods as giving him victory over his eternal enemies in Arabia. It is a passive role that is echoed in the Cyrus' (8) and Xerxes (9) stories, in which Marduk causes the Guti and the Manda to submit to Cyrus' patronage, while Ahuramazda leads Xerxes to transform rebels into clients, much as the Zakkur inscription (17) has Baal-Shamem lift the siege of Hazrach. It is the Idrimi inscription (13) that offers the best narrative rendition of this theme through a chain of success: he becomes chief of Ammiya, with cities and allies making treaties. The progression culminates in Idrimi bringing an end to warfare, a transformation which is illustrated through the destruction of Hittite towns! The inscriptions of Kalamuwa (14), Yehawmilk (16) and Bar Rakib (20) lack this thematic element. In the Mesha stele, after marking the excessive oppression of Omri and his son in their role as tools of Chemosh's anger, to mark the thematic function of past suffering that Mesha's own reign has reversed, Mesha announces his triumph in a categorical claim. Eponymously representing the House of Omri's patronage over Moab, this patronage is contrasted to and reversed by Moab's true patron, Chemosh. Omri had oppressed Moab long beyond his own time and 'now', that is, in Mesha's reign, it is Chemosh who holds Moab as his dwelling place. Israel, claims Mesha, has been destroyed forever. Klaas Smelik's rendering: 'gone to ruin forever', clearly reads this text in an historicist mode, understanding 'forever' as hyperbole and 'gone to ruin' in the sense of 'decline'. Smelik reads the inscription in light of the biblical narrative of 2 Kings 10.32-33, which narrative itself he historicizes, dates and interprets as a political decline assumed during the reign of Jehu.87 To read 2 Kings 10.32 as a reference to Israel's political 'decline' is insensitive. 'At that time, Yahweh began to chop pieces off Israel'88 hardly speaks of a period of historical weakness, but rather of a theological disaster. With the converse of just such a metaphor, the Mesha stele speaks of transcendence and ontology in describing its victory and Israel's disaster. Israel - the instrument of Chemosh's wrath - is no more: it is destroyed forever. Just so, the victory of Chemosh's return to Moab is presented in the context of eternity, not Moabite history. An even closer parallel to the Mesha stele than 2 Kings 10 is the final stanza of the Egyptian Merneptah stele, where the singer tells us that 'Israel's seed is no more.' This is not hyperbole to be reinterpreted and dismissed, but metaphor. Just as in the Mesha stele, where the former situation of Omri's

87. Hallo II, 137 and footnote 8. Of course, if one were to insist on reading this text as if it were giving us a picture of a world that historicist scholarship has constructed as a biblical world, then one should think not of Jehu for this passage - not of mere decline - but of Israel's destruction, and of a time when such scholarship assumes Israel ceased to exist, namely, 722 BCE. On the reign of Jehu in the literary world outside the Bible, see B. Becking, The Conquest of Samaria, SHANE 2 (Leiden, 1992), passim. 88. Cf. Judges 19.29; 20.6! Also, 1 Sam. 11; cf. I. Hjelm, Jerusalem's Rise to Sovereignty.

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patronage stands reversed by the present grace of divine Chemosh's patronage, the Merneptah stele refers to the former situation of Israel, as seed-bearing husband (i.e., eponymous patron) of the land of Churru. The former situation of suffering stands opposed to the present grace, in which the divine Merneptah replaces that lost seed and takes Israel's widow under his own fertile patronage in a transcendent and comprehensive peace.89 Though less complicated, the Mesha stele's use of the thematic element of victory is quite close to the Mursili II text (10) in its use of extended reiteration to express a transcendent victory generically, later to be illustrated with examples. After writing of Chemosh's return to his divine role of patronage and of the destruction of his former, punishing instrument, Israel, the narrator reiterates: Chemosh is patron over Madeba in Mesha's time. He goes on to describe this transcendent victory through specific battles. Like Merneptah before him, he captures three towns to provide example: Ataroth, Nebo and Jahaz.90 These stand as proud representatives of the more paraphrastic 100 towns of Diban, now brought under Mesha's patronage.91 Chemosh sends his king on a further campaign against Horonaim, when his text breaks off. This is much in the style of the campaign developed in Joshua 10.28-43, where Joshua had taken Makkeda, Libna and Lachish, before going on in an expanded development to Eglon, Hebron and Debir and concluding with a periphrastic summation. The comparison with the Joshua narrative is particularly commanding, as this story - more than any other - reflects a relationship of Yahweh to the land that is identical to Chemosh's relationship to Moab. The theological perspective of Mesha's story can profitably be related to 2 Samuel 8.14, which ends a brief tale of David, forcing Philistia, Moab, Aram and Hamat into their roles as clients. It is an interpretive paraphrase, presenting Yahweh as the story's true patron: 'Yahweh gave David victory, everywhere that he engaged (the enemy).'92 Re: The reversal of destiny and the power over fate In the closure of the Enuma Elish, Marduk's power to reverse destiny, as his power to create by word, marks his divine dominance. Within royal ideology, elements of reversal function as illustrations of the king's ability to re-establish the just world the gods created - and thereby secure a positive fate for his land - in accordance with divine will. This trope typically stands in contrast to and specifically reverses the theme of past suffering, built as it is on the 89. I. Hjelm and Th.L. Thompson, 'The Victory Song of Merneptah'. 90. In the Merneptah stele - reading pe-kanan not as Gaza, but, more generically, in its role as the door to Canaan - the song presents three towns made into deserts as examples of Israel's loss of potency; namely, Ashkelon, Gezer and Yenoam. They are all robbed of their fertility. The uncertain reading of pe-kanan is briefly discussed in I. Hjelm and Th.L. Thompson, 'The Victory Song of Merneptah'. 91. Formally, this is not a conclusion, as has been asserted by Smelik (Hallo II, 138), but a rhetorical bridge supporting the reiteration necessary in building a more complex narrative. 92. Cf. 2 Sam. 22.1 (=Ps. 18.1).

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philosophical principle that salvation comes directly from the humiliating tears of suffering.93 The theme of the reversal of destiny is central within the symbol system of divine patronage. It affirms the king's power to be fit for his primary task of maintaining creation and, like Idrimi, mark the world with his will (13). While many of the shorter inscriptions lack this element, all of the larger inscriptions use it as a central element of their plot. Its mythic qualities are fundamental and often presented in fixed thematic patterns to express salvation in metaphors of a new creation or new beginnings. Just so, Panamuwa (18) restores the land's fertility (cf. Jer. 31.12). In Old Testament narrative, a complex discourse on the heart of the Torah surrounds the biblical expressions of this trope, which is expressed through variations of the 'poor-man's song'.94 As expressive of a divine love for clients, this theme of the reversal of fortune is implicitly represented among our texts in the Kalamuwa (14), Azatiwada (15) and Panamuwa (19) inscriptions. The Esarhaddon inscription (4) explains this function explicitly as an act of divine mercy. The gods reverse human destiny. Esarhaddon restores the gods to their temples, as does Nabonidus (6, 7), while Assurbanipal II (3) resettles abandoned ruins. Reversals can be social and political as well. Assurbanipal (3) makes the unsubmissive submit and Esarhaddon (4) frees the enslaved, while Idrimi (13) settles nomads, improves housing and re-establishes the cult of his ancestors. Where insecurity had reigned, Azatiwada (15) creates security. Other, even cosmic, tropes can serve this function. We find an echo of Isaiah 40.3-4's cutting the way of God through the wilderness, a reversal through which valleys are raised and mountains levelled along Sargon's (1) march to the sea. Isaiah's similar reshaping of mountains and valleys as a prelude to the day of salvation and the return of an exiled people has its forerunner in Nebuchadnezzar's story (5). He too, like Yahweh after him, broke mountains and straightened valleys to return his exiled peoples to their homes.95 Thematic elements related to the theme of the reversal of fate, involving the changing of the structures of this world, are also drawn on in Azatiwada's humbling of the strong western lands through a process of deportation and resettling them in the East (15). A related motif is, however, swallowed by personal ambition, when the motif of deportation is used in the story of Panamuwa's service to his king (19). While the restoration of piety is underlined in the Xerxes inscription (9), making all that was bad good, the explicitly divine quality of the role of divine saviour is particularly noticeable in the Cyrus cylinder (8), where, not only does the king reverse the people's suffering, he raises them from the dead. The saving 93. Th. L. Thompson, The Messiah Myth, 93-105. 94. See Th. L. Thompson, 'Kingship and the Wrath of God'; idem, 'Jerusalem as the City of God's Kingdom' and, especially, Th. L. Thompson, 'Holy War at the Center of Biblical Theology: Shalom and the Cleansing of Jerusalem', in Jerusalem in Ancient History and Tradition, ed. by Th. L. Thompson (London, 2003), 223-37. For an annotated anthology of biblical and ancient Near Eastern examples of this trope, see Th. L. Thompson, The Messiah Myth, 107-135, 323-35. 95. On this important theme in royal ideology, see Th. L. Thompson, Early History of the Israelite People, 339-52.

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sword wielded by the good king is two-edged. Not only are the destinies of the suffering and wronged reversed, but Suppiluliuma (10), David-like, causes the strong men of Timuhala, a 'place of pride', to prostrate themselves before him (cf. Ps 110.1). In the Mesha story, it is the restoration of Chemosh's patronage which carries the weight of the transcendent, as we have discussed above in our discussion about the theme of victory over past suffering. There are three other aspects of the theme of reversal in the inscription. All are directly subordinate aspects of the theme of restoring divine patronage and are cast within the dominant theme of holy war: 1) the transference of people to replace the population of Ataroth, 2) successive restorations of the cult and 3) the rebuilding of towns in ruin. Na: Establishing a Name It is hardly amiss to argue that the writing of monumental inscriptions as such embodies and holds implicit the function of establishing fame for the king. It is also in such a spirit that Sargon (1) calls on his successors to do as he has done, evoking a motif of good example to establish precedence and continuity with the future. This trope well serves the efforts of the central leitmotif of 2 Kings to support its dominating chain-narrative by contrasting good kings who follow in the path of their father David and bad kings who walk in the path of Jeroboam.96 The function of creating a name for the king in our inscriptions is found in the closing curses of Yahdun-Lim (2), Esarhaddon (4), Kalamuwa (14), Azatiwada (15) and Zakkur (17). It is also found in the blessings and prayers of Nebuchadnezzar II (5), in the closing prayer of Panamuwa (18) and in the colophon of the Idrimi inscription (13). Esarhaddon (4) speaks of having made memorial steles, celebrating his name and deeds. A similar hope is furthered in Yehawmilk's (16) instruction to those who might do future work on the altar he built. While some few of our texts present mundane claims as marks of fame, such as the Yahdun-Lim (2) inscription, which speaks of extraordinary feats, a more idealistic function is reflected in the paradise evoking description of Assurbanipal IPs (2) zoological gardens. Others, like Cyrus (8), Xerxes (9), Panamuwa (19) and Bar Rakib (20) speak of the recognition, which nations - or the Assyrian king - have given them. Most of our texts use the thematic element of hero to enhance their autobiographies by reference to their personal ties with the traditionally heroic or divine. The Sargon inscription (1) claims such personal splendour through his secret birth, love affair with Ishtar and position as her father's gardener. Similarly, Zakkur (17) was raised by Ba'al Shamem to be king of Hazrach. Nabonidus (7) claims to be an 'only son, one alone in the world', much in the spirit of the well-known self-description of 96. Th. L. Thompson, The Messiah Myth, 259-84. On the 'theology of the way', see Th. L. Thompson, The Bible in History: How Writers Create A Past (London, 1999= The Mythic Past, New York, 1999), 237-44.

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Nabopolassar as 'son of a nobody'.97 Yahdun-Lim (2) was a 'famous hero', much like Suppiluliuma (10, 12) and Assurbanipal II (3), who, moreover, painted murals to tell of his heroic deeds. He was personally chosen by Asshur to be king as Ahura Mazda chose Xerxes (9) and Babylon's Marduk selected Nabonidus (6) and Cyrus, 'his friend' (8). Baalat of Byblos made Yehawmilk (16) king. Esarhaddon's (4) claim, together with Idrimi's (13), to be the younger or youngest son similarly implies a heroic status. This is particularly so in the case of Idrimi, who also - as youngest - 'thinks thoughts no one else thinks' (cf. Job 32.6-22) and Adad, who reads men's hearts, turns to him, much as Yahweh turned to David. A transcendental quality is also implied in Nebuchadnezzar II's (5) claim to be established as 'eternal king' and take up his role as saviour of his people. Similar divine qualities may be claimed for Suppiluliuma in the Mursili II inscription (10) in that all enemies 'fear' him.98 So too, Azatiwada (15) is called 'blessed' and, like Cyrus, is a righteous king. Although the theme of creating a name is ever consonant with the related themes of piety and patronage in all of our memorial texts, in the Mesha stele it is entirely subordinated to these functions. In fact, the trope of creating a name for the king is effectively held implicit in the Mesha stele and does not play a direct role in the story's plotline." Everywhere, Mesha's actions are those of a servant of Chemosh and his own fame obviously subordinated to the glory of the divine Chemosh, his patron. Mesha's humility is ever-present and consistent throughout the narrative. His story is a story of the conquests and glory of Chemosh. Such humility reflects the similar use of this trope in aspects of the inscriptions of Nabonidus (6, 7), Xerxes (9) and especially Suppiluliuma, who, for example, not only creates fear among his enemies, but, himself, fears their gods (10). These four texts closely link the theme of humility with the function of creating a name for the king and relate it rather to the themes of piety and patronage, forming common cause in one of the biblical narrative's most dominating themes. Variations of this thematic element of humility are many in the Bible,100 as in the description of Abraham as God's friend, one who is chosen to create his people. David, youngest among his brothers, is selected to be Israel's king and saviour. Samson, with his heroic birth, and Samuel, raised in the temple, and Israel, raised by Yahweh himself, are figures created from this trope. So too is this function active in the description of Solomon, whose wisdom is divine. Anyone who has read the tower of Babel's critically ironic story is familiar with the thematic element of creating a name as exemplary of mankind's search for the eternal and transcendent. At the same time, he is driven by the biblical theology to read 97. G. W. Ahlstrom, The History of Ancient Palestine from the Palaeolithic Period to Alexander's Conquest, JSOTS 146 (Sheffield, 1993), 755. 98. The attribute of fear or terror as a divine quality is seen in the nearly ubiquitous selfdescription of Assyrian kings as usum.gal, 'the Great Dragon', a description which first appears on the Hammurapi stele (ANET, 276): Th. L. Thompson, 'Kingship and the Wrath of God'. 99. The closure of the Mesha stele has been lost. 100. Th. L. Thompson, The Messiah Myth, 83-93.

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this theme, almost everywhere that it occurs, as an opening to a discourse on hubris. The Mesha inscription strikes me as remarkably close to the books of Samuel and Kings' understanding of the humility proper to a king, whose primary function is to represent the true divine king for his people. Bu: Building projects or repairing temples, cities or the land The building theme in royal inscriptions, together with the related theme of 'good news', is closely tied to the context of Shalom, created by the king's reign. As a mark of the good king, the thematic element of building, and especially building cities and temples, has roots as deep as the Gilgamesh story. In an envelope narration, in which the author, at the opening of his epic, addresses his audience directly and points to the walls of Uruk, which Gilgamesh himself had built, he looks on the temple of Eanna and reads the adventures he had once engraved on a stele. The narrator invites us to see the fine burnt brickwork celebrating Gilgamesh's heroic deeds and to contemplate Gilgamesh's great deeds.101 So too at the end of his long adventure, which Gilgamesh's memorial stele had invited the narrator to recount, Gilgamesh takes the boatman Urshanabi to admire his brickwork once again.102 While Gilgamesh's is a stele within fiction, it mirrors the traditions we find on historical steles. Yahdun-Lim's narrative (2), for example, also closes with an account of repairs to the banks of the Euphrates and the building of a temple to Shamash. Asshurbanipal II (3) erects temples and establishes festivals, while Esarhaddon (4) rebuilds Babylon's walls and restores Esagila. The first inscription of Nabonidus (6) closes with a description of various building improvements, including the rebuilding of Babylon's temple. His second inscription (7) both opens with a dream in which he is chosen by the gods to rebuild the temple in Harran and closes with the building of that same temple. Azatiwada (15) builds the city of Azatiwadaya and establishes offerings to Ba'al there. Similarly, Zakkur (17) rebuilds the city of Hazrach along with its defences and constructs shrines to the gods. Yehawmilk (16) builds an altar to Ba'al, while Panamuwa in the Hadad inscription (18) builds 'towns and villages' and makes offerings to the gods. The Bar-Rakib inscription (20), which is strikingly unique in its absence of reference to the divine world and of any pious function in his building trope, closes his story by speaking of the construction of the king's own palace. Apart from this text, our inscriptions are unanimous in linking repairs and construction with the king's primary self-understanding as servant of the gods. The writing of the Mesha stele is undertaken on the occasion of the construction of a sanctuary in Karchoh, marking it and the story as a dedication to Moab's god, Chemosh. In the narrative episode of Mesha's restoration (or supersession) of the town of Madeba to Chemosh, the king builds Ba'al Meon and Kiriathaim. He captures Ataroth and returns the 'arel (?: a cultic object) to Chemosh. When he takes Nebo, he similarly brings something of Yahweh to 101. Tablet 1, i , 8-10,16-19. 102. Tablet 11, 304-8.

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Chemosh, the dedication of both elements seemingly implying a restoration of the cult of Moab's deity. When Mesha takes Jahaz, he builds Karchoh, Aroer and a road in the Arnon, and rebuilds Beth Bamoth and Bezer. The reiterative and laconic nature of the story's descriptions and the stele's original context interfere with our seeing Mesha's building projects as individual acts of piety. The pattern of conquest followed by construction differs rather strongly from most of our other inscriptions, which, although similarly connecting the theme of building with the theme of restoration, sets the construction work clearly in the context of a comprehensive peace, when the kingdom is firmly established under the protection of the gods. One is rather encouraged to read the Mesha stele in terms of its development of a more complex plot, in which Mesha's piety and the building activities representing that piety provide a substantial leitmotif of his entire life. Each reiterated building or restoration project follows a specific conquest and the dedication of Karchoh is merely one event capping a lifetime of piety. It is his life in all of its particulars, which are related to acts of god. This allows the Mesha stele to be more closely compared to stories of conquest that are directly linked to scenes of construction, celebrating such victory. Such a story is found, for example, in the brief episodic tale of David's conquest of Zion in 2 Samuel 5.6-10, which closes with the renaming of the city and the building of fortifications around the Millo. The story of Solomon's construction of Jerusalem's temple in 1 Kings 5.15-7.51, however, is far better connected with the immediate association of construction and piety that is typical of our other inscriptions, whereby, building projects, and particularly the building of temples, belongs to the closure of the king's narrative in the gods' blessing of his reign with a transcendent peace. The story of the construction of David's house (2 Sam. 5.11-12; 7.1-17; Ps. 132.1-5), however, and especially Solomon's construction of the temple in the context of Yahweh's shalom (1 Kings 5.18-6.38) and continued building with the construction of his palace complex with twice the investment and more than twice the grandeur that he had given to Yahweh's house (1 Kings 7.1-8), representing a grandeur within which both he and the daughter of Pharaoh could live. These competitive building projects can well be compared to the story of Bar Rakib (20), as they introduce a critical voice into the discourse of building temples for gods and palaces for kings (cf. Isa. 44.13, which relates the building of a man's house to the theme of creating idols in 44.9-20; see also Isa. 40.18-20; 46.5-8; Ps. 135.15-21; Ps. 115.3-8; Jer. 10.1-15; Wisdom of Solomon 13.10-19; 15.7-13). Go: The Fullness of time or the announcement of sudden, transforming good news This relatively limited thematic element in our inscriptions, marking events as part of the eternal plan of divine rule over the world, is usually subordinate to the theme of transcendent or Utopian peace, though it is also often used to mark a shift in the plot as marked by divine favour and implies a significantly independent function. It characterizes a specific sign from the gods and usually

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takes the form of a divinely pregnant chronology or use of numbers.103 It marks a turning point in time or the hero's situation, expressing a destiny of curse or blessing. In the Esarhaddon inscription (4), three variations of this element are used to create a reversal of fate from a theme of divine punishment to one of divine mercy, as the guiding principle of Esarhaddon's kingship. In a close parallel to the Esarhaddon motif of 70 years of Babylon's exile, Jeremiah 25.11's plan of Yahweh to appoint 70 years for the exile of Israel expands his curse over Israel to include the whole world's destruction by the sword.104 As in Jeremiah's narrative predicting Jerusalem's exile, the Esarhaddon inscription speaks of divine anger and of the evil the gods had planned when they appointed 70 years of desolation for Babylon. Relenting, however, Marduk is merciful.105 He reverses Babylon's fate and ends an implicit 10 years of desolation by inaugurating a restoration in the llth year by calling Esarhaddon to Assyria's throne.106 Like Moses and Isaiah, Esarhaddon is hesitant in accepting his call. However, favourable signs are given which encourage him to take up his role as chosen one and Babylon's saviour.107 Such a pregnant time, marking destiny can also appear as a cardinal movement of plot. The second Nabonidus text (7) refers to the arrival of the predicted closure of his ten years in the wilderness on the very appointed day, the 17th of Tashritu, a day marked by Sin's graciousness.108 In this fullness of time, Nabonidus' fate turns and he prepares for Babylon's restoration. In a variant of the Esarhaddon inscription (4)» dated to the first year of the king's accession, the theme of restoration is followed by Esarhaddon's prayer that his seed be eternal. Similarly, David prays in 2 Samuel 7.29 that his house be given an eternal blessing. The points of departure of such accession texts lie in the theme of restoration and in the reversal of past suffering. They centre on the pivotal role of the king within the divinely determined plan of salvation. Other texts describe a final period or state, expressive of the ultimate goal of the king's rule as divinely intended

103. On the use of significant numbers of this type in biblical narratives, see N. P. Lemche, 'Praegnant Tid' and of such numbers as characteristic of the massoretic chronology in Genesis, see Th. L. Thompson, Historicity, 9-16. 104. Jer. 25.8-31; Dan. 9.1-8; cf. also the contrasting use of significant numbers for peace as in Judges 5,31, in which the land has peace for forty years. 105. Cf. Jer. 29.10-14; Ezra 1.1; Dan. 9.8-19. 106. Ten years of suffering or exile as in the second Nabonidus text. The 11 years before Esarhaddon's return also involves a scribal pun. The identical cuneiform signs for the 60+10 of the 70 years of suffering is reversed to read 10 + 1 of the 11 years of waiting for Marduk to hear his people. This takes advantage of the cuneiform similarity of the signs for the numbers 60 and 1; cf. Hallo II, 306. 107. E.g., see the thematic variants in Exod. 3.11 and Isa. 6.5 respectively. 108. For similar use of particularity, cf. the announcement of the Utopian shalom on the birthday of Ramses IV (ANET, 378-9), which bears the same function as the 17th of Tashritu does in the Nabonidus story. Similarly, David's climbing the Mount of Olives in 2 Samuel 15 to the place where one is wont to pray mirrors the serendipitous quality of Nabonidus' reversal of fortune. See Th. L. Thompson, 'If David had not Climbed the Mount of Olives', Biblical Interpretation 8 (2002), 42-58.

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blessing. In the story of Nebuchadnezzar II (5), this takes the form of a time of peace.109 In the first Nabonidus text (6), the king has received a Midaslike promise, without that story's ironic development, that he will attain all that he wishes.110 In both these texts, the king is promised, like David,111 an eternal and enduring rule (5, 6).112 The eschatological potential of this theme is suggested in the Cyrus cylinder (8). We have an outburst of joy and shining faces from the whole land of Sumer and Akkad at the good news of Marduk calling Cyrus' name. His call returns life to a land that had been dead, a trope which plays a particularly large role in exilic themes - both biblical and extrabiblical. In the Bible, for example, we find it in Isaiah 45.1-13, where Yahweh calls the name of this same Cyrus that he might save the people. Some of our texts also use significant numbers to mark fullness and divine accord with events. At times, such pregnant numbers take the form of rhetorical devices affecting the story's structure, such as Sargon's accomplished circling of the sea three times, or the use of three kings in uproar against Yahdun-Lim (2) and perhaps the uproar of 17 against Zakkur (17). The list of 40 (?) varieties of trees in Asshurbanipal's (3) 'garden of happiness', the 30 regions of Xerxes' (9) domain, the 30 years of Idrimi's (13) rule and the assassination of the 70 brothers of a Saul-like Panamuwa (19). Similar too are small details such as Idrimi's (13) 7 years among the Hapiru, the 7 years of Barratarna's hostility or Suppiluliuma's 7-day siege of Carchemish (10). Each of these numbers marks lightly the theme of divine congruence. The delicacy of this motif should not be missed. The 3,330 captives, which Suppiluliuma himself takes, is more divinely intimate than the mere 'countless' numbers his troops capture. Hardly a number signifies apart from this trope. This thematic element is also apparent in the Mesha stele,113 where Mesha's father is given a reign, like Idrimi, of 30 years. Omri's reign and half that of his son render a signifying 40, just as 2 Kings structures successive reigns to render subtle comments on the 'good kings' theme of the plot's development.114 Mesha also structures both building projects and conquests in groupings of three. Like Merneptah, in his decisive battle against the Lybians,115 a sun-like Mesha rises with the dawn and crushes the enemy at Nebo before high noon, when he reaches the pinnacle of his ascendancy over his enemies. He sacrifices 7,000 of the enemy to Ashtar-Chemosh.116 Mesha is more modest than the 109. As reversed in an ironic play in Hezekiah's thoughts in Isaiah 39.8. 110.1 Kings 3.6-14's rendition of this thematic element offers a fascinating variation on the Midas story. 111.1 Samuel 7.8-14 is an extraordinarily complete example of this thematic element. 112. This Utopian theme is distinguished from the prayer for a long life as in the Nabonidus text (6). 113. Contra, L. L. Grabbe, 'The Kingdom of Israel'. 114. See G. Wallis, 'Die Vierzig Jahre der achten Zeile der Mesa-Inschrift', ZDPV 81 (1965), 180-6; N. P. Lemche, 'Praegnant Tid'; I. Hjelm, Jerusalem's Rise to Sovereignty, 30-92. 115. L Hjelm and Th. L. Thompson, 'The Victory Song of Merneptah'. 116. Compare the 7,000 as the remnant of Israel who did not kiss Ba'al in 1 Kings 19.14-18.

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Genesis narrator, who has Abraham fight with 318 members of his household to create a cryptic link with the numerical value of Genesis 15.2's Eliezer.117 Mesha is rather like David, whose already small band is intentionally reduced by Yahweh from 600 to 200, that the story's need for purity of heart might be stressed before the great slaughter of the Amalekites in 1 Samuel 30.1-25. Mesha uses his small band of 200 to take Jahaz, not only to mark the divine hand of guidance, but to create his narrative's balance with the 100 towns of his kingdom.118 Sha: The creation of a Utopian shalom The thematic element of shalom represents a Utopian, comprehensive and usually transcendent state of peace, which marks a closure of the king's struggles. This function defines the king's reign as being in accordance with the divine plan. Transcendent or eternal shalom is the goal of every king's reign and the purpose of holy war. It is a thematic element, often implied or reflected in one or other subordinated element of the narrative, as in the construction of a temple, the return of divine favour or in an eschatological time of great rejoicing. In Sargon's text (1), the king is presented as a model for his successors. The king's conquest of mountains and creating of straight paths through valleys well support this function. His threefold circling of the sea certainly seems to do so. The similarly periphrastic Yahdun-Lim inscription (2) also marks themes of transcendence and permanence with the expansion of his realm to the mountains, uniting the region and establishing permanent tribute. A similar idealistic tone is struck in Assurbanipal IPs inscription (3), which makes shalom the dominant theme of the story. Everything is in superlatives. Nothing resists the king. His kingdom reaches to the borders of chaos. He has wisdom and knowledge; he builds his palace and his paradise garden; he hunts and he tames the wild. In a variant of the accession narrative of Esarhaddon (4), the narrative centres on a long prayer, which supports the function of this theme of transcendent peace to express the ultimate goal of Esarhaddon's reign. Not only shall Esarhaddon's house, Babylon and the temple endure for eternity, but Esarhaddon is like the man of Ezekiel 40-48's vision, who leads the prophet to the new temple's water and to the trees of life shading a transformed Dead Sea (Ezek. 47.1-12). Esarhaddon is the righteous man of the Psalter: a tree whose leaves do not wither (Ps. 1.3).119 He is a plant of life for his people. Like the young Solomon, he creates a rule of justice that is eternal. Similarly, an eternal throne and an enduring dynasty mark elements of the theme of shalom in both the Nebuchadnezzar II (5) and the first of the Nabonidus inscriptions (6). While the Nebuchadnezzar text stresses the 117. Eliezer = 318: Th. L. Thompson, Historicity, 190. 118. On the Masoretic chronology's use of a similar number structure of 40s and 100s, see Th. L. Thompson, Historicity, 9-16. 119. The tree of life is similarly the goal of the new Jerusalem as the kingdom of God in Revelation 22.1-5, in which the lamb carries out Esarhaddon's role.

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happiness and peacefulness of his reign - just as the Kalamuwa inscription (14) stresses the king's compassion and the people's love for him - the Nabonidus text concentrates on the king's power and will to rule. Like David's Yahweh, Marduk will see that Nabonidus obtains all that he wishes, because Marduk hears him (Ps. 1.3; 18,.6). Also similar to David, Nabonidus, with humility, conditions his prayer for a long rule on what Marduk's will is (so 2 Sam. 15.25-26).12° In his second text (7), Nabonidus centres his narrative on restoration. As Yahweh had done for David, the gods give Nabonidus victory over all his enemies (2 Sam. 7.9; 22.1). As in 2 Sam. 22, Nabonidus' victory is transcendent. The weapons of eternal enemies are broken (1 Sam. 2.4) and all the world's kings send him messages of friendship (1 Kings 10.1, 24). At the very time they had ordained, the gods return to their temples. Like Abraham, Nabonidus rewards his supporters generously, but himself returns home unchanged (Gen. 14.21-24). The Cyrus inscription (8) also casts the king's reign in the form of a transcendent peace. The Idrimi story (13) has the king not only ruling Alalakh for a consummate thirty years, but - like Panamuwa of the Hadad inscription (18) - he puts an end to war (cf. Isa. 11.19). In the Panamuwa inscription (19), more mythically, the king 'kills the stone of destruction'. Azatiwada (15) destroys all evil, but also, more specifically, makes evil men subject to him. He humbles the strong in cadences of reversal common to the 'song of a poor man'. Much as Azatiwada (15) and Panamuwa (19) give life to their people, Sumer and Akkad, in the Cyrus story (8), the people rise from the death caused by the gods' absence. Both gods and people return from exile to welcome Cyrus (cf. Isa. 45.1). As with so many of the figures of peace in the Bible, Cyrus, having entered Babylon without a battle (cf. Isa. 9.5; Mic. 5.4), presents himself as king over the world, one whom the gods love (Ps. 2.8; 89.28): a just king, forbidding both terror and corvee (contrast the motif of the 'way of men' in Gen. 9.2 and 1 Sam. 8.12). In the Mursili II text (10), Suppiluliuma's first campaign is won, like Cyrus' victory over Babylon, without a battle. The outnumbered enemy sues for peace. In the fragment 18 text, however, the Mitanni king mocks him, much as the Assyrian Rabshakah mocks Hezekiah (Isa. 36.4-10). The parallel between Suppiluliuma and Hezekiah is broadened by the plague with which the gods threaten the king's enemy, as they march in front of Suppiluliuma that the Mitanni king might pay for his hubris as Sennacherib does in the Hezekiah story. The enemy die en masse (cf. Isa. 37.36). All fear Suppiluliuma and rush to make peace (cf. Josh. 9.1-15). The prisoners he takes from Carchemish are beyond counting. In the Yehawmilk inscription (16), peace is a gift of Ba'alat. While almost all of our texts emphasize the theme of prosperity resulting from the king's reign, it is the Panamuwa (19) and Bar-Rakib (20) stories - with their reorganization of government, wealth and wisdom - that are reiterated in the stories of peace and prosperity that belong to Solomon's great peace of 1 Kings 4-5. In the Mesha stele, the theme of shalom presents itself around thematic numbers as discussed above. The inscription, set up in the dedication of a 120. Cf. 2 Sam. 23.5; 22.7; 15.25.

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cult place, centres on the appropriateness of Chemosh's presence in the land. Unfortunately the closure of the inscription is lost and it is not possible to speculate seriously about further expansions on this theme as closure. In biblical literature, thematic elements reflective of this Utopian goal of peace abound. The kingdom or presence of god, a new creation, visions of a transcendent messiah and various metaphors reflecting the birth of the new Jerusalem, the eternal reign of David, the splendour of Solomon's reign or the building or rebuilding of the temple, are all variants of a common theme. Much as the lifted horn of the Messiah is a sign of the land's eternal fertility, these motifs are signs of divine presence and rule. Negative variants commonly cluster around the motifs of desert creation and days of wrath and judgment. The Sodom and flood stories are stereotypical tales of future fate, much in line with more blunt references to the catastrophes of war and siege. Plot-oriented, ironic glimpses of lost Utopias, as of a promised land flowing with milk and honey but inhabited by giants who need to be defeated in battle (Numbers 14), of a child ready but unable to be born (Genesis 20.18; Isaiah 37.3) or of an impotent messiah (1 Kings 1.1-4), are all important echoes of this function, feeding the plots of biblical narrative. Bl/ Cu/ Pr: Blessings, Curses and Prayers The thematic functions of blessings and curses, as that of a prayer for divine protection, present themselves in variant forms of closures for our inscriptions. As such, they offer a useful opportunity for stressing an aspect of the narrative's function. The closures of the Sargon (1), Esarhaddon (4) and Nabonidus (7) inscriptions, for example, with instructions to their successors, mark the function of the narratives as wisdom or example stories, much in the manner of pseudonymous and posthumous presentations of wisdom literature, as we find in the instructions of a father to his son from Meri-Ka-Re and Amenemopet to Solomon.121 The tomb inscription of Panamuwa (18) takes up this particular function with great clarity, praying not only that his son and successor maintain his memory, but cursing him should he not. He prays that his son will avoid violence and not put anyone to death and concludes his story with a short discourse on treachery. Similarly, the Idrimi story (13) orients its narrative to the future, not only asking the gods to bless the scribe who has written the stele, but asking those who read the story to bless Idrimi. The Panamuwa inscription (19) - like the Mursili II text (10) - is explicitly posthumous. The text closes with the voice of his son Bar-Rakib praying that the gods show favour to Panamuwa. In a contrasting spirit, the Kalamuwa (14), Azatiwada (15), Yehawmilk (16) and Zakkur (17) inscriptions all close with curses against successors who would damage the inscription. YahdunLim's (2) prayer for a long and happy life and Xerxes' (9) prayer for protection from evil, on the other hand, reflect texts that are oriented towards benefits within these kings' own lives. Yahdun-Lim follows up his prayer with a curse, 121. Cf. ANET, 414-8; 418-21; Proverbs 1.8; see my discussion in The Messiah Myth, 14-16.

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related on one hand to the temple and its offerings and on the other to the maintenance of his name on the stele. Nebuchadnezzar II (5) blesses those who protect his inscription, while likewise praying for a long life and fertility for himself. This last is not to be seen as merely a form of self-promotion. It is an aspect of piety, the inscription being the representation of his public presence before and submission to his patron deity, much in line with the presentation of the golden statue of himself which Assurbanipal (3) mentions having placed before the goddess Ninurta. Similarly, this element in the first Nabonidus inscription (6) functions as guarantor of his promise to care for the sanctuaries and rebuild the temple. It is set together with a prayer for a long life if Marduk should wish it. Suppiluliuma (12) writes a curse on his father's mausoleum that the gods will punish anyone who changes the arrangements he has made for the mausoleum's support. The incomplete Mesha inscription does not have these functions extant.

4. Some Tentative Conclusions on the Historicity of the Mesha Stele Lester Grabbe's effort to isolate certain motifs of a biblical tradition, such as royal names, chronological data and the order of the succession of kings, as providing potentially trustworthy data for our historiography, may have some rhetorical appeal in an atmosphere of debate, given the widespread historicist assumptions regarding the historicity of such elements whenever they occur in inscriptions. Even when such elements lack specific and independent confirmation, these widely used motifs, in biblical texts, ancient historiography and throughout a broad spectrum of ancient Near Eastern forms, typically bear with them a literary function of creating plausibility (as, for example, we find in Gen. 14.1; Isa. 1.1; Dan. 2.1). This is a function that every narrative needs in order to maintain its role within the world of fiction. Plausibility, however, is not a useful criterion for historicity.122 The difficulties in our discussions about the historicity of biblical texts are not really related to the necessity of confirmation with evidence. It is nearly entirely related to the question of how we identify and apply evidence when we do have it. I use a single example of what is usually presented as critical historical reconstruction to make my point. My purpose is neither to agree nor to disagree with any particular point of the reconstruction, but to discuss method, the presuppositions of that method and the historical value and quality of the historical reconstruction it produces or supports. In discussing the Mesha stele's relationship to the biblical story of 2 Kings 3, Gosta Ahlstrom describes the stele as confirming the biblical narrative's scenario that Israel had occupied the region north of the Arnon. Ahlstrom spoke historically of 'the Moabite king being a vassal to Omri and "his son"

122. See the discussion: 'Littera gesta docet, quid credas allegoria...' in Th. L. Thompson, Historicity, 52-7.

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for forty years'.123 Taking this as a matter of fact, Ahlstrom proceeded to jump into the well-filled quagmire of trying to decide whether the 'unclear' dating of the Mesha stele is to be preferred to the - only presumably clear - setting of Mesha's rebellion after the death of Ahab as narrated in the biblical story. It is to Ahlstrom's credit that he also raised the problem of the Mesha stele's phrase about Israel's decease, even as he is, himself, certain that, nevertheless, 'Israel still existed as a nation'. While participation of the gods and such associated rhetoric are reduced to the insignificant in Ahlstrom's reconstruction, the stories in which they play a role are transformed within a demythologized context that Ahlstrom himself created. He dates his historical war as having begun during Ahab's reign, and as having continued until what he describes as 'a victory over Ahab's son Joram' (2 Kgs 3.24-27). The stele's description of Israel's decease is reinterpreted, so that it signifies merely 'Israel's humiliation'. This humbling he defines on the basis of the biblical story as having been a 'geographically minimized Israel' under Jehu.124 The difficulties of Ahlstrom's reconstruction are not related to issues of either confirmation or extra-biblical evidence. Ahlstrom has both, though he hardly uses either. The problems are of interpretation, implicit and explicit. They involve the reading of the biblical and the extra-biblical texts and they involve his comparison and identification of their plotlines. The interpretation begins to unravel as soon as it is pointed out that there is no 'biblical information' about an Israelite occupation of Moabite territory, nor is there any explicit biblical information about Mesha or the Moabite king having been a vassal of Israel under Omri or under his son. That 'information' exists only in the Mesha inscription. Similarly, when the biblical story of Mesha's rebellion closes with the episode of child sacrifice, it tells us nothing whatever about a humiliation suffered by Israel. That humiliation has been created by demythologizing the stele's story. Nor does the dearly purchased 'success' of Mesha's rebellion in the biblical story - escaping defeat - bear the least reference to a loss of territory that had been Israelite. Again, both of these transpose and change the story in the Mesha inscription, but they are certainly not part of the biblical story. When Ahlstrom attempts to reconcile Mesha's thematic elements of building with the biblical narrative of 2 Kings, he is forced to introduce what he guesses is historical 'information', drawn from Amos 2.1-2, so that he can correct an assumed 'confusion' of Edomites and Israelites, which the author of the Mesha stele has supposedly made.125 Like Grabbe, Ahlstrom has read his texts - both biblical and extra-biblical - with the assumption of historicity and within a context of possible historical scenarios, as if these texts purported to be descriptions of events. But he examines neither story as ancient narrative or on the basis of principles of comparative literature. He has asserted an imaginary context within a not-yetexistent history of events during Palestine's Iron Age. For the sake of such a fictive context, he neglects the mythic context each text offers its story and both 123. G. W. Ahlstrom, The History of Ancient Palestine, 579-82. 124. G. W. Ahlstrom, The History of Ancient Palestine, 579-82. 125. G. W. Ahlstrom, The History of Ancient Palestine, 653-4.

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share in the literature of the ancient Near East - one monumental and the other traditional. There is neither warrant nor argument for Ahlstrom's reading nor for his method. We have abundant material for comparative analysis of such literature and such analysis can give us the means of testing aspects of this text's historicity as well as implications of this text for understanding aspects of Moab's cultural history. In arguing that we should neglect the critical dimensions of our historical work and accept some elements of our biblical traditions as 'historically dependable' without confirmation, Grabbe reiterates a wish he had earlier voiced in his review of my book, The Bible in History. His suggestion that biblical texts be granted the assumption of historicity, customarily attributed to extra-biblical texts, assumes that it is in fact appropriate to read extra-biblical texts in such an uncritical manner, ignoring both a text's meaning and its function.126 I would like to turn briefly to the three categories of 'information' Grabbe would privilege: royal names, chronology and the order of royal succession. In considering our analysis of the royal names found in variants of our (auto)biographical genre, 'Testimonies of a Good King', the historicity of the central figures of such monumental biography seems plausible. In the inscriptions of Mursili II (10), Suppiluliuma (12) and Panamuwa (19), the historicity of the central figure of the narrative is moreover confirmed by additions to the text, which identify the primary narrative with the deceased whose life is commemorated by the stele.127 That is to say, a posthumous quality of the Ist-person voice of the text is both compatible with and strengthens a judgment of historicity for the person represented by this literary presentation. Since, moreover, the inscriptions attributed to Yahdun-Lim (2), Xerxes (9), Nebuchadnezzar II (5) and the first Nabonidus inscription (6) offer an implied claim of having been commissioned by the named king, not 126. L. L. Grabbe, 'Hat die Bibel doch Recht? A Review of T. L. Thompson's The Bible in History1, SJOT14 (2000), 117-39; and my response: Th. L. Thompson, 'Lester Grabbe and Historiography: An Apologia', SJOT 14 (2000), 140-61. Grabbe's complaint of a double standard regarding historicity is hardly justified (see already, Historicity, 199-297, where I argued specifically against the then widespread uncritical reading of Nuzi texts, and the reconstruction of implied social and historical contexts, without considering the genre of the texts involved. See most recently my discussion of the common grounds of biblical and ancient Near Eastern literature in my The Messiah Myth, 107-35; 171-96. In my Bible in History, I argued against such obviously 'fundamentalist' readings of Egyptian texts in reconstructing the history of the Hyksos, pp. 138-49. Even more recently, I have made such arguments in regard to the Israel stele, the Deir Alia inscription and the Mesha stele. (See I. Hjelm and Th. L. Thompson, 'The Victory Song of Merneptah' and Th. L. Thompson, 'Problems of Genre'.) There is but one standard for reading ancient texts, and that is to use any means possible for determining what they in fact say and imply. I do not understand Grabbe's expressed wish to assert as historical evidence aspects of a text which clearly have other functions than the historical. 127. Perhaps the most striking example of such a postscript within an autobiographical fiction is found in the Adad-Guppi inscription, which belongs to a closely related genre, in which Adad-Guppi is said to have died in the 9th year of Nabonidus and describes her burial (Hallo I, 477-8; ANET, 311-12 and 560-2).

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only is an entirely fictive autobiographical voice less likely, but one can expect that the names of these kings find confirmation through other inscriptions. In comparable traditional literature, however, similar forms do not offer such confidence, particularly in such figures as we find presented in Job 29.m A considerable percentage of our monumental texts, moreover, namely, the Sargon (1), Esarhaddon (4), the 2nd Nabonidus (7), Idrimi (13), Kalamuwa (14), Azatiwada (15), Yehawmilk (16), Zakkur (17) and Panamuwa (18) inscriptions as well as the Mesha stele, present their lives of the king in their fullness and add thereby a fictive quality to their self-presentation - a quality which suggests the possibility that these texts might also be posthumous. Lacking a postscript, however, we need evidence, confirming such a judgment. The potentially fictive quality of the genre as a whole, moreover, encourages the search for confirmation of the central figure's historicity comparable to the independent voice given by the secondary voices in the texts of Mursili II (10), Suppiluliuma (12) and Panamuwa (19); for these texts generally do not provide us with sufficiently requisite evidence. If the posthumous nature of some of our texts can be confirmed, it would affect both our dating of the text and our expectations of the fictive quality of other elements.129 It is, I hope, at least clear that the historical quality of such elements as the royal names of the central characters do, in fact, require confirmation before we can use them with confidence for historical reconstruction. Even more must a judgment about the historicity of other royal names and the names of secondary figures seek confirmation, not least in regard to figures presented in the roles of enemies. We should not forget that the substance of most of our texts - as transparently in the Sargon (1) and Idrimi (13) stories - is constructed largely from stereotypical elements of folktale. Even as we may be assured that their heroes, like Gilgamesh and Hezekiah, had lived elsewhere in history, the stories we are reading do not themselves hold historicity implicit. As I have earlier argued in regard to the figure of the prophet Bileam,130 it is a well-known trait of folklore to bring together famous figures and events of the past that historically are separate from each other by several hundred years.131 In such cases, the historicity of such characters as Suleiman or Victoria, as also of Gilgamesh, Sargon and Idrimi, as well as others among our royal heroes, cannot be affirmed on the basis of their stories, but only on the basis of confirmation from other texts.132 Such data require confirmation. 128. See Th. L. Thompson, 'Job 29: Biography or Parable?', in Th. L. Thompson and H. Tronier, Frelsens Biografisering, Forum for bibelsk eksegese 13 (Copenhagen, 2004), 115-34. 129. As, for example, the implied age of Adad-Guppi at the birth of Nabonidus, to say nothing of the 95 years that she prayed for Nabonidus' succession to the throne. 130. Th. L. Thompson, 'Problems of Genre.' 131. This is also discussed in Th. L. Thompson, The Origin Tradition of Ancient Israel (Sheffield, 1987), 42-8. 132.Th. L. Thompson, The Origin Tradition of Ancient Israel (Sheffield, 1987), 42-8. This argument was first presented in Th. L. Thompson, Historicity, 187-9.

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When the author of the Mesha stele has Mesha reverse the oppression of Omri and his son, many historical scenarios are possible. Among such, is that Mesha and Omri may have nothing to do with each other in history. Mesha, on the other hand, may be a contemporary of Omri's son, or of anyone who might be understood as a 'son of Omri' or otherwise represent Israel. The text itself supports the reading of Omri as an eponymic representation of the patronage Bit Humri, as is clear from the evocation of the figure of Omri as present in Moab even in the time after the death of Omri himself. Such eponymous projection through the heroes of stories is commonplace in biblical, Greek and pre-Islamic Arabic narratives, especially in legends recounting the struggles and origins of peoples or regions.133 What is most striking about the names that occur in these texts is not their apparent historical validity, but rather the way in which they expose the dense fictive qualities of the compositions in which they are found. When we consider the second element Grabbe would prefer to privilege through an assumption of historicity, we are confronted with a most striking confirmation of the power of literature over historical fact. As we have seen,134 nearly every reference to a number in our texts, and every element of a text's internal chronology, can be understood to be thematically coded, often with reference to the transcendent. Such numbers involve the number of enemies opposed, captured and offered in sacrifice, the number of battles fought, towns attacked and defended, the duration of past suffering, the length of exile of the king or the time during which the gods have been absent from or angry with their people. Such significant time may refer to the time of day in which a battle begins and ends, to the length of a king's reign and the duration of a ruler's perfect realm. Such elements in the texts invoke a fullness of time determined by the gods. In all of our texts and markedly in the Mesha stele, literarily themebearing numbers are the only kind of numbers one finds. With such data, we have every reason to suspect that our texts do not provide us with historically useful information. We do know that such chronology and synchronism is governed by the use of thematically significant numbers, which are unlikely to be entirely historical.135 The texts invoke a fullness of time determined by the gods. That is, the chronology of our texts require confirmation. The third privileged issue, regarding the order or succession of events, with which Grabbe supports dynastic synchronism in biblical narratives, is difficult to approach. Such a large number of our royal figures occur in very few inscriptions. We are, moreover, very dependent on relatively unknown perspectives implicit to our texts. The question of whether succession is implied when kings are designated as sons - as David is called 'son' by Saul in 1 Sam. 24 and 26 - is also a pervasive problem in ancient Near Eastern inscriptions. At times, we know this kind of information cannot be trusted. Our first Nabonidus inscription (6), for example, presenting the king as 133. Th. L. Thompson, Historicity, 311-14. 134. Above in the discussion of the thematic function: Good News. 135. N. P. Lemche, 'Prajgnant tid'; I. Hjelm, Jerusalem's Rise to Sovereignty, chapter 2; and Th. L. Thompson, Historicity, 9-16.

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successor of Nebuchadnessar and Neriglissar, allows a royal succession that differs from the one that his mother's inscription offers, as this inscription includes Awel-Marduk in the succession.136 As some of our kings are heroes, born of nobodies as well as of gods, royal succession can not be dependably or responsibly assumed, when such texts are our only evidence. On the other hand, some of the kings, who play literary roles in the Bible, occur also in extra-biblical inscriptions in an order of succession and within a chronological context that does not seem seriously contradicted by the order of succession and the chronology within the legendary tradition. I think we have good reason to believe that the synchronism of biblical kings does at times presuppose historical knowledge regarding the succession and dates of kings. We are hardly certain, however, that this 'knowledge' has not been altered and adjusted to their use in the narratives or their role in the tradition transmitted. Again, confirmation is necessary. The narrative qualities of our texts are not to be ignored; nor are they to be bracketed as Ahlstrom has done in his discussion of Mesha. We have some very well-worn difficulties created by biblical chronology. Consider the dating of the fall of Samaria in Hezekiah's sixth year (2 Kings 18.10) or the fall of Lachish in his 14th year (2 Kings 18.13-14). I think it necessary to avoid using such stories as evidence for the dating of these events. Even less am I tempted to use 28 years for the length of Hezekiah's reign, as if it were historical information. The story doubles Hezekiah's reign and the clock goes back, freeing him from the oppression of the Assyrians. This gift from God is confirmed in the story as miraculous, when Ahaz's sundial (Isa. 38.8) turns back ten steps. In trying to understand biblical chronology, I am taken up by such questions as why only 10 steps and not 15 are reversed and why does the sundial belong to Ahaz, far more than whether such a story gives me warrant to date an historical Hezekiah with the help of such calculations. Is the 28 years of Hezekiah's reign dependent on the affirmation of Yahweh as the God of history - the result of a rebirth granted by divine mercy, allowing Hezekiah to live a reign without Sennacherib? Of course, these are not the questions of an historian, but can one, after all, ask historical questions of a story that puts Hezekiah together with both Assyrians and Babylonians? 5. The Bible's Story of Mesha Although texts such as the Mesha stele and the variants discussed in this paper do not offer us significant sources for the history of events for which we lack confirmation, they can and do help us immensely with cultural history. They give us immediate evidence for a history of literary constructs in early antiquity. One can even consider a history of Bronze and Iron Age narrative. The analysis of the association of this story tradition with biblical literature has a richness that is merely touched upon by my few references to the extensive 136. See Hallo I, 477-8 and further below.

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biblical variations of theme and technique. Of far greater importance than any few shards of dependable historical information monumental texts provide, is the access these texts give to the Bible's literary and intellectual inheritance, particularly in regard to a detailed representation of the literary tradition and the techniques which they share with biblical tradition. For example, the story of Adad-Guppi, Nabonidus' mother, not only illustrates the fictional patterns of royal (auto)biography similar to many we have seen, but it reflects a metaphorical language and ideology that is also commonplace in the piety of the Psalter. Like those who walk in the path of righteousness, Adad-Guppi prays day and night to Sin (Ps. 22.3). She worships the gods whether they are in heaven or on earth (Ps. 89.53). To appease them, she dressed in torn sackcloth (Jonah 3.5), praised the gods (Ps. 22.26-27) and served them food (Adapa) for ninety-five years (Gen. 17.17). Such motifs reflect a common inheritance and should inform our reading of both biblical and ancient Near Eastern texts.137 The Mesha story, for instance, reflects techniques of building chainnarratives,138 which are perhaps far more informative for understanding the structure of 2 Kings than any hypotheses regarding lost archives that might reflect the chronology and royal names that 2 Kings seems to presuppose. In reiterating the narrative of Moab's return to grace after the total destruction of Israel, Mesha recounts his victories in a series of epitomizing descriptions, presenting the return of Chemosh to Madeba from a self-imposed exile. He then recounts the taking of Baal Meon and Kiriathaim. This account is followed by a more complex story of Ataroth, a town built by the king of Israel. It is followed by the story of the conquest of Nebo at Chemosh's instruction, from which Mesha drove the king of Israel. The narrative continues the theme of Israel's humiliation by taking Jahaz, which the king of Israel had also built. A series of building accounts follows this conquest as the king celebrates his rule over 100 towns, with an equal number of stories yet to be imagined. Chemosh then sends him against Horonaim, which Mesha takes before the text breaks off, untimely truncating what has clearly become a chain-narrative illustrating Chemosh's return to his land. In a very similar way, the Hittite narrative of Telepinu139 develops a chain of narrative, which - because of its high moral character - has even greater similarities to the chain of narrative that had been constructed by the author of 2 Kings than the Mesha stele has. This Hittite story begins as an account in the voice of Telepinu and recalls the distant past. The reigns of Labarna, Hatusili, Murshili, Hantili, Zidanta, Ammuna and Huzziya are recounted, with each 137. See discussion in C. J. Gadd, 'The Harran Inscriptions of Nabonidus', Anatolian Studies 8 (1958), 35-92; T. Longman, Fictional Akkadian Autobiography, 97-103; Hallo I, 477-8; ANET, 311-12 and 560-2. 138. On the structure of chain-narratives, see Th. L. Thompson, The Origin Tradition of Ancient Israel I: The Literary Formation of Genesis and Exodus 1-23, JSOTS (Sheffield, 1987), 155-90; esp. 155-8. 139. H. Hoffner, 'Propaganda and Political Justification in Hittite Historiography', in H. Goedicke and J. J. M. Roberts (eds.), Unity and Diversity: Essays in the History, Literature and Religion of the Ancient Near East (Baltimore, 1975), 49-62; Hallo I, 194-8.

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succession determined by a reiterated pattern of murder and intrigue within the court and royal family. Finally, Telepinu survives and declares peace, with an instructive proverb on the love of your enemy: 'They did evil to me but I will not do evil to them.' Telepinu sits on his father's throne.140 Finally, there is a great conspiracy against Telepinu and Huzziya and his brothers are killed. When Telepinu hears of the plot, the conspirators are tried and sentenced to death. However, Telepinu changes the fixed pattern of his family's destiny by pardoning them rather than by taking revenge as expected. Foreshadowing Isaiah, he takes their weapons and gives them a farmer's yoke instead. Faced with a curse in the blood of the royal family - explained by prophets as equal to the bloodshed in Hattusa - Telepinu then issues a decree based on an ethical principle that is also central to biblical literature: collective punishment is banned and blood-guilt is limited to the sinner himself. The murderer shall pay with his own head, but his house and his children will be spared. Like much biblical narrative, the story is not an account of history, but a rich illustration of ancient wisdom. The story of Moab's revolt in 2 Kings 3.4-27 is part of an even more elaborate chain-narrative, structured lightly within a flexible synchronism between Israel's and Judah's kings. It is integrated within the greater plot development of the Elijah-Elisha legends, which use a plot movement of prophets and kings to draw a Mesha-like theme of Yahweh as the sole great king. Within this theme, the Mesha story of 2 Kings illustrates Psalm 2. The favourite motif of the Assyrian campaign texts, the crime of rebellion, with its punishment meted out by Yahweh's servant David, also holds the greater plot of 1-2 Kings (1 Kings 12.19) together. The story of Mesha's rebellion is the third of a tripartite narrative complex, the first of which - centring on the figure of Ahaziah - is itself a double story. Each of this pair is presented in three scenes.141 The first scene sets the central issue of the plot for the entire chain with the question of Yahweh's messenger: 'Is there no god in Israel that you are going to ask d X?' (2 Kings 1.3, 6, 16).142 The second narrative reiterates the question and marks Elijah with a Nazarene's pure heart.143 The third scene embraces a triple contest of Yahweh's fire against the king's fifty messengers of violence: is Elijah a man of god or a servant to be commanded by the king? The fifty are twice consumed by Yahweh's fire (1 Kings 1.9-13). In the third scene, the captain and his fifty humble themselves before Elijah (1 Kings 1.14). With humility comes grace, and so Elijah goes to the king to 140. To be understood as a stock clause (Legitimation). 141. On the tripartite character of many biblical chain-narratives, see Th. L Thompson, Origin Tradition, 158. 142. The Hezekiah story of 2 Kings 20 has a similar narrative of the king whom shall die. His deathbed, however, is set to contrast positively with Sennacherib's story and is to be read within Isaiah's presentation of Yahweh's competition with the empty gods of this world (Isa. 9-11: esp. Isa. 9.6's El gibbur; cf. also the 'twilight of the gods' in Psalm 82). The motif of Ahaziah's enquiry of Ba'alzebub finds its correspondent in the Hezekiah story in that story's closure when the king - trusting in still another great king than Yahweh - ominously invites the king of Babylon to see Jerusalem's treasures (2 Kings 20.12-18). 143.Deut. 14.1 - with Deut. 13; Judges 13.5-7; 1 S amuel 1.11.

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pose the question of Yahweh's messenger: 'Is there no God in Israel that you send messengers to Baalzebub (1 Kings 1.16)?' In this opening of the Bible's chain-narrative of Mesha's rebellion, Ahaziah is dismissed and returns to the legendary chronicle from which he came (1 Kings 1.18). The second story of the chain-narrative of Mesha's rebellion is also a double, tripartite narrative. The first part reiterates Elisha's dogged faithfulness to Elijah in an implicit contrast to the lack of faithfulness that Ahaziah had shown to Yahweh. The reiteration of the leitmotif of the narrative is of the story's essence. The story's function is to illustrate Yahweh as the living God: 'As Yahweh lives... I will not leave you (1 Kings 2.2, 4, 6).' With a rich mixture of reiterative motifs (fifty prophets contrasting with the previous story's fifty soldiers, the crossing of the Jordan marking the prophets Elijah and Elisha as a reiteration of the Hexateuch's Moses and Joshua and Elisha's vision of a chariot and horses of fire rendering him double a prophet's spirit) the story's final scene marks the narrative's climax as a succession narrative. The patronage-weighted recognition of Elisha's cry 'father, father' expresses the humility necessary for him to take up Elijah's mantel (cf. 1 Sam. 3.10). The second part of this story is used to illustrate Elisha's power in three scenes. The leading question of the narrative is 'Where is Yahweh, the God of Elijah?' (1 Kings 2.14), as we are led into a narrative of search. In the first episode (1 Kings 2.15-18), the fifty prophets, who recognize Elijah's spirit with Elisha, test him by seeking Elijah's spirit high in the mountain or deep in the valley, but for three days they do not find him. In the second episode (1 Kings 2.19-22) Elisha stops at Jericho for an etiological story of the city's great springs by reiterating the wilderness stories of Abraham at Gerar and of Moses at Mara, protecting them from both bitterness, plague and miscarriage (cf. Gen.12.17; 20.17-18; Exod. 15.22-27). This episode of Yahweh's blessing is followed by an episode of curse as Elisha moves from Jericho to Bethel for the final illustration of Elisha's possession of Elijah's spirit, as bringing both blessings and curses on Israel. A bizarre and brutal fairy-tale scene worthy of the Grimm brothers (2 Kings 2.23-25), in which Elisha, seeking recognition as Elijah's 'son', closes our second story with a fleeting echo of Saul, whose great height marks him kingly and contrasts with David's cinderella-like unpromising success. Instead of one who looks like a great prophet - those long-haired Nazarenes - Elisha as the 'bald-pated' one, who has been anointed in Elijah's succession, is scorned and mocked by the town's little boys. The episode is simple in its brutality. The prophet of God has two bears kill 42 of the children, as Elisha continues undisturbed on his way up the Carmel. Where is Yahweh, the God of Elijah in such a scene? Protecting us from understanding the number of children either as an element of verisimilitude or as useful for historical reconstruction, is its function as a coded number. It refers us to the story of Jehu's search for legitimacy and 'sonship' in 2 Kings 10.12-15, where we find our cryptic scene's interpretive variant. After having had the 70 sons of a Saul-like Ahab killed in Samaria and their heads and hands sent in baskets to the Jezreel in fulfilment of Elijah's prophecies against Ahab, Jehu, as one of Yahweh's

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messiahs of doom, meets the 42 kinsmen of Ahaziah at Betheked on his way to Samaria and kills them. These are the little boys cut down by Elisha's imitative prophecy at Bethel on his way from Samaria, a story which finds itself in 2 kings self-consciously within the larger story of Yahweh's condemnation of the house of Ahab. This is a central link in the complex narrative line, which had begun in 1 Kings 19.14-18, centred on the riddle which Yahweh had posed to Elijah on Mount Horeb. In response to Elijah's complaint that the Israelites had broken the covenant, torn Yahweh's altars down and killed the prophets - he alone has escaped the sword - Yahweh instructs him to anoint Hazael as king over Aram, Jehu over Israel and Elisha as prophet to succeed Elijah. Those who escape Hazael's sword, Jehu will kill, and those who escape Jehu's will be killed by Elisha. Seven thousand will be Israel's remnant, only those whose mouths have not kissed Ba'al.144 The riddle regarding Samaria's faithful remnant of 7,000 is resolved with the help of an interesting narrative geometry, referring cryptically to the tattered remnant of Joahaz's army in 2 Kings 13.7; namely, 50 horsemen, 10 chariots and 10,000 soldiers! Such arithmetic is a gentle indication that numbers are not entirely trustworthy data for historical reconstruction. The third main narrative of the Mesha chain begins in 2 Kings 3.1 and engages the story of Mesha's revolt within the ironic logic of retribution, guiding divine punishment. Jehoram continues the evil of Jeroboam (2 Kings 3.3); namely, his rebellion against the house of David, which had so centrally governed the story of Samaria's doom with its three punishing messiahs: Hazael, Jehu and Elisha. This gives our Mesha story both its specific context and substance. It, like the Samaria story, begins in rebellion (Mesha's against Jehoram), as Mesha refuses to pay his tribute of 100,000 sheep and 100,000 rams.145 This opening scene of the third Mesha story reiterates the larger story's plan for punishment with the avenging swords of Yahweh's three messiahs. Three kings: of Israel, Judah and Edom, set out to punish Moab (2 Kings 3.4-8). Central to both narratives is the theme of Jahweh as Israel's true king and patron.146 The three armies march out for seven days and Israel's king understands: Yahweh has drawn the three kings into a trap, in order to give them into Moab's hand. Precisely as the Mesha story describes Chemosh's punishing anger against Moab through the army of Israel, 2 Kings' Jehoram gives voice to a similar perception of Yahweh's wrath against Israel. With that understanding, the three kings seek to appease the God offended by going to 144. Cf. Ps. 2.10: 'Kiss clean in terror of Yahweh.' 145. To be compared with 1 Chron. 5.21's figures for the booty taken from the Hagarites: 50,000 camels and 250,000 sheep. These numbers are merely figures of narrative and - like the Mesha stele's numbers of 7,000 men from Nebo sacrificed to Ashtar-Chemosh, 200 soldiers used to take Jahash and 100 towns of his realm - not to be understood as having any literal signification in regard to events. 146. On the issue of patronage within the theme of royal ideology, see Th. L. Thompson, Islamic Studies. For the issue of retributive logic, see Th. L. Thompson, 'Holy War'. On the central thematic element of rebellion, see now I. Hjelm, Jerusalem's Rise to Sovereignty.

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his prophet (2 Kings 3.9-12). The second scene centres on the meeting of the three kings with Elisha (2 Kings 3.13-20). For the sake of the king of Judah, Elisha, controlled by Yahweh's hand, helps the three kings. He declares that the streambed will be filled with water and predicts that the three kings will destroy the whole of Moab. The third episode of the story opens with the dawn's miraculous victory, a motif met also in the Mesha stele's narrative. Reversing reality's expectations, water comes from Edom's desert and fills the land of Moab. When the Moabites see the sunshine on the water, they see it in the Edom-mirrored reflection of its origin: red as blood. Thinking that their conspiring enemies had fought among themselves, they charge on the Israelite camp, unaware of the disaster awaiting them. A great slaughter follows as the land is covered with stones by the Israelite slingers and the story builds an aetiology for the great flint-stone flats of the Trans-Jordanian plateau. In desperation, the king of Moab decides to sacrifice his own first-born son. Accepted, this sacrifice successfully stems the tide of battle. An intriguing, but brilliant, silence surrounds the name of the living God that has implicitly accepted Mesha's sacrifice in 2 Kings' story. The closing motif of child sacrifice, offering a sharply contrasting echo of Abraham (Gen. 22), functions as a bridge narrative to link the Mesha narrative with the two immediately following stories involving children: the widow with her two sons and that close parallel to Genesis 18's story of Abraham and Sarah: the hospitality story of the woman of Shunem.147 It also closes the Mesha revolt story with its necessary ironic success. One might argue that the biblical narrative of 2 Kings 3 reflects its author's knowledge of Mesha as having been king of Moab and even of his revolt against Israel's hegemony. Both are central elements of the Mesha stele's story and of the biblical narrative. However, to assume that the biblical tradition relates what had been an event in TransJordan's past, so that we might speculate about Mesha's revolt as if it were an historical event, assumes a historicity of both the Mesha stele and the biblical narrative which would be very difficult to warrant. On the other hand, if we look upon the association between the story of the Mesha stele and 2 Kings 13's chain narrative of Mesha's revolt, the historical remnants that are exposed through a comparison of these texts are as interesting as they are limited and uncertain. We have the name of Mesha as king of Moab (however we choose to interpret the eponymous quality of the name Omri). We also have a story of Moab's rebellion against Israel and the implicit understanding - whether biblical or Moabite - of an intensely competitive relationship, involving both patronage and a mutually exclusive theological ideology. In fact, viewed from a perspective regarding historical literary remnants, the material useful for an historical reconstruction of intellectual traditions is not only extensive but also substantial, touching the core of the worldviews implicit in each of our sources. The associations of both narratives with ancient Near Eastern royal ideology is profound: the roles of Israel and Omri, instruction that takes its departure from past suffering, a narrative driven by holy war ideology and 147. For the larger context of these Elisha stories, see my The Messiah Myth, 37-59.

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the portrayal of Mesha as Chemosh's perfect servant and of his realm as resting within a Utopia of peace. The biblical story, on the other hand, takes up some of these same themes, but it does so derivatively and secondarily. It is functionally subordinate to the Jehu and Elisha stories and the reiterative discourse surrounding the three central biblical figures of Abraham, Moses and David. Moreover, if we question the relationship between the biblical and the Mesha stele's stories about Mesha's rebellion against Israel in regard to content and theme, the biblical story stands without any unique quality of its own. I see nothing to discourage us from identifying the biblical narrative's 'historical knowledge' simply as knowledge of the Mesha stele itself or some other comparable text of the past. Such a solution is, of course, supported by the availability of the stele's narrative to the biblical author. The only thematic element of the biblical story that is absent from the Mesha stele is the closing scene of child sacrifice. It is this plot-oriented theme, however, which most strongly supports the Bible's competitive discourse about who is the living God that drives the Mesha narrative from the beginning of 2 Kings 1's mockery of Ba'al to the horror-awakening acceptance of Mesha's sacrifice. In this child-sacrifice episode, Mesha and Yahweh take on roles that echo the role of Egypt's pharaoh (Exod. 12.29) and reiterates Yahweh's role in relationship to first-born sons. Mesha as a figure stands in contrast and in opposition to the righteous Abraham of Genesis 22. Mesha's despicable lack of righteousness in the closing scene of 2 Kings' story stands within an interpreting revisionist's contrast to the god-fearing righteous self-identity of Mesha's own story, in which he plays the role par excellence of the 'good king' of ancient Near Eastern monumental inscriptions.

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'Epische Gesetze der Volksdichtung', ZDA 51, 1-12. Folkelige Afhandlinger (Copenhagen: Folklore Fellows Communications). 'Geschichtsbild und Geschichtsschreibung in Agypten', WO 3, 161-76. 'The Aramaic Inscriptions', Hama 11,2, ed. by P. J. Rijs and M. L. Buhl (Copenhagen: Nationalmuseet), 267-318. Stories in Scripture and Inscriptions: Comparative Studies on Narratives in Northwest Semitic Inscriptions and the Hebrew Bible (Oxford: Oxford University Press).

Pritchard, J. B. 1969 Ancient Near Eastern Texts Related to the Old Testament (Princeton: Princeton University Press = ANET). Propp, V. 1968 Morphology of the Folktale (Austin: American Folklore Society). Reed, W. L., and Winnett, F. V. 1963 'A Fragment of an Early Moabite Inscription from Kerak', BASOR 172, 1-9. Rollig, W. 1964 'Erwagungen zu neuen Stelen Konig Nabonids', ZA 22, 218-60. Saggs, H. W. 1978 Encounter with the Divine in Mesopotamia and Israel (London: Athlone). Sasson, J. M. 1979 Ruth, (Baltimore: Anchor Bible). 1981 'On Idrimi and Sarruwa the Scribe', in Nuzi and the Hurrians, ed. by M. A. Morrison and D. I. Owens (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns), 309-24. Smelik, K. A. D. 2000 'The Inscription of King Mesha', Hallo II, 137-8. Smith, C. 1969 'Some Observations on the Assyrians and History', Encounter 30, 340-54. Smith, S. 1949 The Statue of Idrimi (London: Athlone). Thompson S. 1955 Narrative Motif-Analysis as a Folklore Method, FFC 161 (Helsinki: Suomalainen Teideakatemia). 1955-8 Motif Index of Folk Literature, 6 vols. (Bloomington: Indiana University Press). Thompson, Th. L. 1974 The Historicity of the Patriarchal Narratives: The Quest for the Historical Abraham, BZAW 133 (Berlin: de Gruyter; 3rd edn, Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 2002), 311-14. 1987 The Origin Tradition of Ancient Israel: The Literary Formation of Genesis and Exodus 1-23, JSOTS 55 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press). 1992 The Early History of the Israelite People from the Written and Archaeological Sources (Leiden: Brill, 1992; 3rd edn, 2000). 1996 'He is Yahweh; He Does What is Right in his Own Eyes: The Old Testament as a Theological Discipline IF, in Tro og Historie: Festskrift til Niels Hyldahl I anledning af 65 drs f0dselsdagen den 30. December 1995, eds. L. Fatum and M. Miiller, Forum for Bibelsk Eksegese 7 (Frederiksberg: Museum Tusculanum), 246-62. 1997 'Historic og teologi i overskrifterne til Davids salmer', Collegium Biblicum Arbog (Arhus), 88-102. 1999 The Bible in History: How Writers Create A Past (London: Jonathan Cape,

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2000 2000 2001 2002 2002 2003

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2005 Timm, S. 1989 Tropper, J. 1993 Ullendorf, E. 1958 Van Seters, J. 1983

1999 = The Mythic Past: Biblical Archaeology and the Myth of Israel, New York: Basic Books), 237-44. 'Problems of Genre and Historicity with Palestine's Inscriptions', Congress Volume: Oslo 1998, ed. by A. Lemaire and M. Saeb0, VTS (Leiden: Brill), 321-6. 'If David Had Not Climbed the Mount of Olives', Biblical Interpretation 8, 42-58. 'Lester Grabbe and Historiography: An Apologia', SJOT 14, 140-61. 'Jerusalem as the City of God's Kingdom: Common Tropes in the Bible and the Ancient Near East', Islamic Studies 40, 631-48. 'Kingship and the Wrath of God, or Teaching Humility', RB 109, 161-96. 'From the Mouth of Babes: Strength, Psalm 8,3 and the Book of Isaiah', SJOT 16, 226-45. 'Is A History of Palestine Possible?: an Introduction', in Jerusalem in Ancient History and Tradition, ed. by Th. L. Thompson (London: T&T Clark), 1-15. 'Holy War at the Center of Biblical Theology: Shalom and the Cleansing of Jerusalem', in Jerusalem in Ancient History and Tradition, ed. by Th. L. Thompson (London: T&T Clark), 223-57. 'Job 29: Biography or Parable?', in Th. L. Thompson and H. Tronier (eds.), Frelsens Biografisering, Forum for bibelsk eksegese 13 (Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum), 115-34. The Messiah Myth: The Near Eastern Roots of Jesus and David (New York: Basic Books; London: Jonathan Cape, 2006). Moab zwischen den Machten (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz). Die Inschriften von Zincirli, ALASP 6 (Miinster: Ugarit Verlag). 'The Moabite Stone', in Documents from Old Testament Times, ed. by D. W. Thomas (New York: Nelson), 195-7. In Search of History: Historiography in the Ancient World and the Origins of Biblical History (New Haven: Yale University Press).

Wallis, G. 1965 'Die Vierzig Jahre der achten Zeile der Mesa-Inschrift', ZDPV 81, 180-6. Weissbach, F. H. 1906 Die Inschriften Nebukadnezars II im Wadi Brissa und am Naahr el-Kelb (Leipzig: Hinrichs). Wilson, J. A. 1936 Historical Records of Ramses III, SAOC 12 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press). Wiseman, D. J. 1952 'A New Stela of Assur Nasir-pal IF, Iraq 14, 24—44. Wyatt, N. 2005 Myths of Power: A Study of Royal Myth and Ideology in Ugaritic and Biblical Tradition, UBL 13 (Mimster, 1996; London: Equinox). Younger, K. L. 1986 'Panammuwa and Bar-Rakib: Two Structural Analyses', JANES 18, 91-100. 1998 'The Phoenician Inscription of Azatiwada: An Integrated Reading', JSS 43, 11-47.

SAMARIA, JEZREEL AND MEGIDDO: ROYAL CENTRES OF OMRI AND AHAB1

David Ussishkin 1. Introduction The biblical text informs us that Omri built Samaria as the capital of the northern kingdom of Israel. On the other hand, the events related in 1 Kings 21 and 2 Kings 9-10 indicate that Jezreel was also a royal centre of the Omride Dynasty. This leads to the question of the role of Jezreel vis-a-vis Samaria in the kingdom of Israel. A number of possible explanations - based primarily on geographical, historical and biblical considerations - have been proposed. Morgenstern (1941:286, 288, 303) and others who followed him suggested that Samaria was the summer capital, while the royal winter palace was located in Jezreel. Alt (1954) believed that the kingdom of Israel had two capitals, one for the Canaanite and one for the Israelite population. Yadin (1978) suggested that Samaria served as the capital but that the temple of Ba'al was built on Mount Carmel rather than Samaria, not far from Jezreel. Finally, Olivier (1987) believed that Samaria was the capital while Jezreel was a kind of 'gateway city', controlling the access from the east to the Valley of Jezreel and the hilly, central regions of the kingdom. The discussion about Samaria and Jezreel should also include Megiddo. This large and central city is located ca. 15 km. from Jezreel as the crow flies, and eye contact exists between the two places. It needs to be explained, therefore, why a new centre had to be built in Jezreel, situated so near to Megiddo. A fresh evaluation of these historical problems is attempted below with the aid of the vast corpus of archaeological data which are now available. Many of the data have been made available by the recent archaeological excavations carried out at Jezreel and Megiddo, and by stratigraphical and chronological studies related to older excavation material from Samaria and Megiddo. Here we have a clear case in which the archaeological perspective can be used in an attempt to reach historical conclusions.

1. This is a revised and updated version of a paper published in: J. A. Emerton (ed.), Congress Volume: Cambridge 1995. Leiden 1997, pp. 351-64.

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Systematic excavations were carried out at Samaria between 1908 and 1910 by G.A. Reisner on behalf of Harvard University (Reisner et. al. 1924), and between 1931 and 1935 by the Joint Expedition directed by J. W. Crowfoot (Crowfoot et al. 1942).

Figure 1: Samaria: Plan of the city

Samaria was built on the summit of a hill and on its slopes (Fig. 1). The site dominated its surroundings. Bedrock was relatively high on the summit, and an earlier Iron Age settlement existed here, its debris used for the constructional fills of the Omride structures (on this settlement see Stager 1990; Tappy 1992). Very little is known about the city of Samaria which surrounded the acropolis. Reisner uncovered several segments of massive revetment walls, obviously parts of the city's fortifications, on the northern, western and southern slopes. For lack of data it is difficult accurately to estimate the size of the city, but I assume it reached 100 to 120 dunams (ca. 23 to 28 acres), including the acropolis.

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Figure 2: Samaria: Plan of the Omride acropolis. (1) 'The ivory house'; (2) 'Omri's Palace'; (3) 'The ostraca building'

The Israelite acropolis was located on the summit, in the centre of the city (Fig. 2). The gates to the city and the acropolis were probably located on the unexcavated eastern side, where the slope is mild, and a modern Arab village is now situated. The acropolis was a rectangular compound, measuring ca. 220 m. in length and ca. 120 m. in width, enclosing an area of ca. 26 dunams (ca. 6 acres). Ever since the beginning of the excavations it has generally been agreed upon that the public structures on the acropolis had been erected in two stages, labelled by Kenyon Periods I and II (Kenyon in Crowfoot et al. 1942:94-100; see recent analyses of the Samaria stratigraphy by Tappy (1992) and Franklin (2004)). The main building, known as 'Omri's Palace', and the 'Inner Wall' ('Wall 161') were assigned to Period I, while the 'Casemate Wall', the 'Ostraca Building' and the building in the centre of the compound, were assigned to the later Period II. According to Franklin, the Inner Wall as well dates to Period II. According to these views, the structures built in Period I continued to be in use in Period II together with the newly erected Casemate Wall and buildings. Kenyon's stratigraphic conclusion was based on her observation in the section dug at the northern part of the compound that a floor of Period I which extends northwards from the Inner Wall (Wall 161) is cut by the foundation trench of the inner Casemate Wall. In her own words: 'The foundation trenches with which these walls cut through the original floor belonging to Wall 161 are very clear, so there is no doubt that they are an addition to the plan' (Kenyon in Crowfoot et al. 1942:97). In one place she describes this floor as 'the very distinct hard white floor which formed the capping of the filling of the area between this wall [i.e., Wall 161] and

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the casemates' (in Crowfoot et al. 1942:98). However, in another place she describes it as follows: 'a floor of rather clayey red-brown soil just covered the footings of the wall [i.e., Wall 161], and sloped down to the north, approximately following the slope of the rock but thickening slightly' (in Crowfoot et al. 1942:95). This situation is shown in three section drawings, two of which are reproduced here in Figure 3. It appears to me that these 'floors' were in the main layers of 'clayey redbrown soil' - the layers of natural soil covering the rocky slope. In all three sections these layers definitely do not look like intentionally laid horizontal floors. These layers indeed are cut by the foundation trench of the Inner Casemate Wall, but this would be expected in case these are layers of natural soil covering the bedrock. More important, in none of the three sections does the so-called floor connect to the Inner Wall (Wall 161) as claimed by Kenyon. In my view the structures of Periods I and II are all contemporary and were built according to a single scheme and in identical orientation. All the structures combine into a harmonious plan of a rectangular compound surrounded by a casemate wall and containing several public buildings, including a central palace situated at the highest point of the acropolis. The idea that the original programme included the construction of a large, isolated palace situated on its own on top of the hill, while the surrounding acropolis wall was added at a later period as an 'afterthought', sounds to me absurd. The character of the architecture is of much interest. Many of the walls are based in trenches cut in the rock along the sloping surface. In some cases (e.g., segments of the southern casemate wall) adjacent walls are not based at the same elevation due to the sloping ground. The walls were largely built with ashlars laid in headers or in headers and stretchers, their faces smoothed or containing a central boss. The preserved walls were largely foundations or retaining walls: constructional fills, containing debris from earlier settlements, were laid in the spaces between the various walls, in order to turn the enclosure into a rectangular platform or podium. The elevation of the fills in parts of the casemates reached several metres. At least the lower part of the exterior casemate wall was probably also covered by fills on the outside. The rectangular podium was nearly even-surfaced. In its centre loomed the central edifice, 'Omri's Palace'. It was built on higher ground, and the surrounding structures, in particular the Ostraca Building situated to the west, were based on a lower terrace. The buildings were apparently situated in an open, lime-plastered courtyard. It is clear that walls built of ashlars - the Inner Wall and the Casemate Walls - served as retaining walls and at least their lower parts were covered by fills since their construction. In most cases, at best, only parts of the substructure of the walls have been preserved and it is not clear whether the superstructure of the walls was built of ashlars as well. It can be assumed that in many cases the superstructure, or at least part of it, was built with mudbrick.

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Figure 3: Samaria: Sections A-B and E-F

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Ahab Agonistes 3. The City of Samaria: Dating and Function

The dating of the acropolis (and probably other parts of the city as well) is based primarily on the biblical evidence. We assume that it was built during the reigns of Omri and Ahab, between 882 and 852 BCE.2 The monumental architecture fits the biblical evidence that Samaria was built as a capital of the Omride kings, and continued to be the capital till the Assyrian conquest. The fortified, rectangular compound contained a monumental palace situated at the highest place, and the massive walls were consistently constructed with ashlars. The rich finds also indicate the importance of Samaria and its status as the capital of the kingdom. Numerous Hebrew ostraca of administrative character were uncovered in one of the buildings which apparently served the royal administration. A group of beautiful Phoenician ivory carvings were also found (Crowfoot and Crowfoot 1938). Ivories of this kind were usually kept in royal collections, or decorated furniture in royal palaces, and these ivories or at least some of them - although uncovered in a later-in-date context - may well have been associated with Ahab's 'ivory house which he made' (1 Kings 22.39). 4. The Fortified Enclosure at Jezreel: The Facts on the Ground Intensive excavations have been carried out in Tel Jezreel between 1990 and 1996, by the British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem and the Institute of Archaeology of Tel Aviv University under the direction of John Woodhead and myself (Ussishkin and Woodhead 1992; 1994; 1997). The excavations provided us with a clear, although partial, picture of the settlement at the time of the Omride dynasty. Tel Jezreel is located on a ridge extending along the southern edge of the Valley of Jezreel. Situated on a prominent summit, it dominates the valley below, where the highway from Megiddo to Beth-shean extended in ancient times. In addition to its strategic position, Tel Jezreel commands a breathtaking view of the valley below and of Mount Gilboa to the east. The climate here is relatively mild: in summer it is not as hot as in the valley below, and a breeze often blows from north and north-west. There is ample water; a spring, 'En Jezreel, is situated in the valley below, and the site contains many rock-cut cisterns used to collect rainwater. The roughly rectangular site is ca. 60 dunams (ca. 14 acres) in size. On the basis of evidence of unstratified pottery, it is clear that Tel Jezreel had been settled in the Early Bronze Age and the Late Bronze Age as well as during Iron Age IIA, immediately before the Omride enclosure to be discussed below was built, that is in the tenth century BCE. In the later part of the Iron Age and in the following periods Jezreel has continuously been settled 2. The dates used in this article are after H. Tadmor, Chronology, Encyclopaedia Biblica, IV, Jerusalem 1962, Cols. 245-310 (Hebrew).

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till present times. A large settlement extended over the site in the Byzantine period. A medieval village from the period of the Crusades is situated in the western part of the site, where the remains of a church and a tower still stand; later the Arab village of Zer'in was built here. The settlement relevant to us is that dating to the ninth century BCE. A large rectangular fortified enclosure, symmetrical in plan, was built here (Fig. 4).

Figure 4: Jezreel: Plan of the Omride enclosure

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Along the northern side,3 the enclosure bordered on the steep slope of the site facing the Valley of Jezreel. A casemate wall was built around the enclosure. Squarely shaped, projecting towers were built in the corners. The wall and the towers were supported on the outside by a ramp. The lower, interior part of the ramp was made of layers of brown soil, and its upper, exterior part was made of limestone chips and gravel. A rock-cut moat surrounded the enclosure on three sides, except for the northern side where the wall and the ramp extended along the edge of the steep slope. The rock-cut moat, which is 8 to 12 m. wide, is at present mostly filled with later-in-date debris; its bottom was exposed by us at one point, being ca. 6.5 m. beneath the surface. Significantly, the impressive moat is an unusual feature in Iron Age Palestine, indicating the special importance and strength of the fortifications. The gate is located at the southern side, but not in the centre of the enclosure. It is a six- or four-chambered gatehouse; the moat extended in front of the gate, and a bridge or a drawbridge was probably erected here to enable access to the enclosure. The enclosure was large and much effort was invested in constructing it. Along the line of the wall the enclosure was 289 m. long and 157 m. wide, and the area enclosed within the walls was ca. 45 dunams (ca. 11 acres). The overall length of the moat along three sides of the enclosure was ca. 670 m. It was roughly estimated that constructing the moat had involved the hewing of ca. 26,800 cubic metres of stone, and ca. 23,300 cubic metres of soil and gravel had been dumped to form the ramp. Regarding the inside of the enclosure, relatively little is known at present, as most of the excavations took place near the corner towers and the gate area. In the central parts of the enclosure bedrock is relatively high. It seems that much work was invested in levelling the surface of the enclosure, in order to create a kind of podium here: fills made of brown, natural soil brought here from the vicinity of the site were dumped along the upper edge of the slopes around the site; in the gate area also debris taken from the earlier Late Bronze and Iron IIA settlements was used. Remains of two public buildings were uncovered near the gate and the north-east tower, but no monumental structures or walls, which could have belonged to a palatial building, have so far been discerned. In the rooms of the casemate wall and adjacent to them were found relatively poor domestic remains. The finds consist mainly of domestic pottery. The fortifications, including the towers and the gatehouse, were mostly preserved at foundation level. The walls are generally built of boulders laid in courses, with smaller stones filling the spaces between them. The size of the boulders varies, and sometimes large blocks were incorporated in the bottom of the foundations. At least the superstructure of the south-east 3. As can be seen in Fig. 4, the sides of the enclosure are, in fact, to the north-northeast, east-southeast, south-southwest and west-northwest. For the sake of simplicity, the sides of the enclosure are referred to here as if they are oriented to the north, east, south and west respectively.

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corner towerwas built of sun-dried bricks. The use of ashlars is very limited; sometimes ashlar stones were incorporated in the walls, and several corners were built of ashlars. An exceptionally well-built corner was uncovered in the foundations of the south-east corner tower. No structural changes or phases have been discerned in the enclosure, and it apparently fell into disuse a relatively short period of time after its construction. The south-east corner tower was destroyed by fire, but it cannot be established whether the destruction that occurred was due to a 'local' cause and was limited to the tower, or whether it marks a wilful destruction of the entire enclosure. The discovery of nine arrowheads - eight made of iron and one cast of bronze - strengthens the conclusion that the enclosure was destroyed by fire. All arrowheads were found on the southern side of the enclosure, in the vicinity of the gate, and four or five of them were found in a context most likely associated with the Iron Age enclosure (Ussishkin and Woodhead 1997:64-6).

5. The Fortified Enclosure at Jezreel: Dating and Function The dating of the enclosure is based primarily on the biblical evidence. We assume that it was built after the ascent to the throne of Omri in 882 BCE. Assuming that the enclosure was destroyed in a wilful destruction a relatively short period after its construction by Omri, Woodhead and I suggested at the time that it came to an end during Jehu's revolt in 842 BCE (Ussishkin and Woodhead 1992:53; 1997:70). However, it seems more likely, as suggested by Na'aman (1997:12-7), that the Jezreel enclosure was destroyed by Hazael and the Aramaean army in the later part of the ninth century BCE. Regarding the function of the enclosure, the following points should be taken into consideration: (a) the enclosure was built at one time according to an overall plan; it served for a relatively short period of time, (b) The enclosure was built on a summit, located in a dominating position above the Valley of Jezreel. (c) Emphasis on construction was put on strong fortifications, (d) In the fortifications the rock-cut moat is perhaps the most prominent feature, (e) The quality of construction is relatively poor; and the characteristic elements of contemporary Israelite monumental architecture - in particular, consistent construction with ashlar masonry - hardly appear here, (f) In the enclosure an effort was made to level the surface by laying fills in order to create a kind of platform or podium, (g) It seems reasonable to assume that a central building had been built here, but nothing associated with it has so far been found, (h) Poor domestic remains were uncovered in association with the casemate wall and its towers. On the basis of the above Woodhead and I believe that Jezreel was built and served as a military base, possibly the military centre of the Omride kings. It seems that Jezreel served as a central base for the cavalry and chariotry units of the Israelite army. The strength and size of these units in Ahab's army are

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emphasized in the description of the battle of Karkar in 853 BCE found in the annals of Shalmaneser III. Significantly, it seems that barley - a significant component in the diet of war horses - was cultivated in the eastern part of the Valley of Jezreel (see Har-el 1994). 6. Megiddo - The Stratum VA-IVB City: The Facts on the Ground Ancient Megiddo was strategically located in the western part of the Valley of Jezreel, at the point where the coastal highway - the via marts - turned into the valley after crossing Mount Carmel. Hence Megiddo acquired in antiquity its special importance, including the period relevant to us. Intensive excavations took place in Megiddo, first by a German expedition directed by G. Schumacher between 1903 and 1905 (Schumacher 1908), then by the Chicago Oriental Institute between 1927 and 1939 (for the Iron Age see Lamon and Shipton 1939), and then by Y. Yadin of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem (Yadin 1970). Systematic excavations on a long-term basis have been renewed at Tel Megiddo in 1992 by Tel Aviv University in cooperation with Pennsylvania State University under the direction of I. Finkelstein, B. Halpern and me (Finkelstein et al. 2000). The city levels relevant to us have been extensively excavated (see summaries in Davies 1986; Ussishkin 1992). However, the stratigraphy of the excavated structures, their date and function, are subjects of different and often contradictory scholarly interpretations. It would seem that there is no unanimous agreement about the interpretation of most of the data associated with Megiddo of the tenth and ninth centuries BCE. I cannot present here all the interpretations, and the discussion below is based in the main on my own views. The starting point for our discussion is the city level labelled Stratum VA-IVB (in following W. F. Albright, G. E. Wright and Yadin; see Fig. 5).

Figure 5: Megiddo: Plan of Stratum VA-IVB

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Stratigraphically, it includes all the structures lying immediately beneath City Wall 325 - the fortification wall of the later Iron Age city of Stratum IVA. This means that all the structures of Stratum VA-TVB predate the city wall in question, but they were not necessarily all constructed at the same time: some of them could have been erected at a slightly earlier date and others at a slightly later date. Stratum VA-FVB was not surrounded by a proper city-wall, but the settlement was apparently protected by a row of adjoining buildings situated along the upper periphery of the site, and a small, two-chambered gatehouse formed the gate to the city. The city was characterized by domestic quarters and by three monumental palatial buildings built of ashlar masonry, all located near the upper periphery of the site. On the southern side was built Palace 1723, situated in a large compound, with a huge annexed building erected nearby (No. 1482). On the northern side was built Palace 6000, discovered and partially excavated by Yadin (1970); its excavation has recently been completed (see Finkelstein et al. Forthcoming). On the eastern side stood Palace 338, which apparently contained a small shrine; this structure was assigned by the excavators to the later Stratum IVA but in my view it dates to Stratum VA-IVB (Ussishkin 1989). Several houses of domestic nature, which also included a small shrine (No. 2081) were excavated on the northern side of the site near the city gate. It seems that the central part of the settlement was left largely as an open area. For the sake of clarity it should be added that the later Stratum IVA includes all the structures contemporary with City Wall 325 (Fig. 6). The so-called 'Solomonic', six-chambered, gate definitely belongs to this stratum (Ussishkin 1980). The main structures include two complexes of buildings, which in my view should be interpreted as stables as suggested by the excavators (Ussishkin 1990a:81^), the water system, and - in my view - Storage Pit 1414 assigned by the excavators to Stratum III (Ussishkin 1994:424-6).

Figure 6: Megiddo: Plan of Stratum IVA

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Ahab Agonistes 7. Megiddo - The Stratum VA-IVB City: Date and Function

With the total absence of inscriptions or any other definitive evidence, it is impossible accurately to date Stratum VA-IVB within the tenth and ninth centuries BCE. The presently available data having chronological implications can be summarized as follows. (a) As indicated by Wightman (1985) the structures of Stratum VA-IVB were not necessarily constructed at one time and according to a uniform plan. Hence, for instance, the three palatial buildings could have been constructed at different times. On the other hand it seems likely that all the structures of this city stratum came to an end due to a wilful destruction at the same time. (b) Pharaoh Shoshenq I erected a stele in Megiddo during his campaign in Israel and Judah in ca. 925 BCE. Assuming that he would have erected a monumental stele in an existing city to mark its conquest and domination rather than on a ruined site, we have to conclude that Shoshenq I did not destroy Megiddo at all (Davies 1986:96; Ussishkin 1990b:71-4). Hence the widely accepted assumptions that (a) Megiddo was destroyed in Shoshenq I's campaign - whether it was the Stratum VIA city (a possibility raised by Finkelstein (2002:117-22)) or the Stratum VA-IVB city (e.g., Yadin 1970:95) - and (b) this destruction level forms a well-dated chronological datum are apparently wrong. (c) The pottery assemblage found in the Omride enclosure in Jezreel is similar to the pottery uncovered in its constructional fills, which almost certainly originates in the settlement which preceded the enclosure. Both groups of pottery are typologically similar to the pottery assemblages of Megiddo Stratum VA-IVB and the underlying Stratum VB (Zimhoni 1997:89-93). The pottery assemblages from the Jezreel enclosure and from Megiddo Stratum VA-IVB date to the time of their destruction, hence the conclusion that both sites were destroyed at roughly the same time. As mentioned above, Woodhead and I suggested at the time that the Jezreel enclosure had been destroyed during Jehu's revolt in 842 BCE. However, Na'aman's suggestion (1997:125-7) that both sites were destroyed by Hazael, King of Aram, during the later part of the ninth century BCE, seems more likely. (d) The monumental architecture of the Omride compound in Samaria, that is 'Omri's Palace', the Inner Wall and the Casemate Wall of Periods I-II, shows much resemblance to the monumental architecture of Stratum VA-IVB in Megiddo. This is indicated in particular by the ashlar construction, style of stone-dressing and masons' marks. According to Crowfoot (1940:146), Kenyon (1957:200-1) and Wightman (1990), recently followed by Finkelstein (2000) and Franklin (2001), this resemblance indicates the contemporaneity of Megiddo Stratum VA-IVB with the Omride compound in Samaria. (e) The famous seals of 'Asaph' and 'Shema', the servant of Jeroboam' were uncovered by Schumacher in association with the destroyed gatehouse to the compound of the southern palace of Stratum VA-IVB (Ussishkin 1994). The evidence possibly indicates (though falling short of proof), that the two seals

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indeed belonged to the context of the building; if that is so it would follow, as suggested by Yeivin (1960) and Ahlstrom (1993), that Shema' was a 'servant' of Jeroboam I, not Jeroboam II, and that the compound of the southern palace existed already in the last quarter of the tenth century BCE. Turning to the aspect of function, it has to be remembered that throughout its history Megiddo was a central city controlling a major highway. During the time of Stratum VA-IVB the city must have been a provincial administrative centre of some kind - it was not protected by a city-wall and included several palatial buildings and public structures. On the other hand, the later-in-date Stratum FVA city drastically differs from the previous one. Megiddo was now turned into a strong military centre. The ruins of the Stratum VA-FVB city were largely demolished, and their stones - the ashlars in particular - were used for the construction of the new city. Megiddo was now surrounded by a strong city wall which included a massive city-gate. A huge water system to enable access to the spring from inside the fortified city was constructed as well. Two large complexes of stables and a huge silo for keeping chaff were built, indicating that large units of Israelite cavalry and chariotry were stationed at Megiddo.

8. Summary and Conclusions When turning to compare the above-discussed sites to one another, one thing stands out: there is a clear resemblance in plan and character between the Omride compounds in Samaria and Jezreel, but both of them differ from the Stratum VA-IVB city at Megiddo. In both Samaria and Jezreel the Omride compounds were founded on a summit of a hill, where a modest settlement existed before, and bedrock nearly reached the surface. In both places the compound is rectangular in plan, its surrounding walls used to support constructional fills. These fills - composed of debris taken from the earlier settlements as well as natural soil brought from the immediate vicinity - were used to turn the compound into a roughly horizontal platform or podium. Buildings, partly surrounded by open spaces, were erected inside the compounds. In Megiddo, on the other hand, the character of the Stratum VA-IVB settlement is entirely different. The settlement is located on an artificial mound rather than on the summit of a hill. The settlement is not protected by a city wall. The three palatial buildings are located at different parts of the mounds, their back wall extending along the edge of the mound. As it seems, each one of them was surrounded by its own walled courtyard. Although, as discussed above, the stylistic resemblance in ashlar construction in the palaces of Megiddo Stratum VA-IVB and Samaria Periods I-II would indicate that they might have been constructed at the same time and by the same builders (as recently argued by Finkelstein (e.g., 2000)), the differences in character and overall plan between Megiddo Stratum VA-IVB and the two Omride compounds are strong indications that this is not the case. All these data

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lead to the conclusion that the Megiddo palaces and the Omride compounds are not contemporary but the difference in time between them is small. In addition, the above conclusion that the Megiddo palatial buildings are not contemporary with the Omride compounds is supported by another argument. As discussed above, there must have been a distinct difference in function between the Omride compounds in Samaria and Jezreel which justified the construction of both of them at the same time. Megiddo, however, is located a short distance from Jezreel, and there was no pragmatic need for the construction of both of them as government centres at the same time. It seems that the historical scenario and archaeological picture with regard to Omride Samaria, Jezreel and Megiddo can be reconstructed as follows. Megiddo was a central city controlling a major highway before and after the establishment of the northern kingdom of Israel. The city of that time, founded in Stratum VB and reshaped in Stratum VA-IVB, was not protected by a city wall and included several palatial buildings and public structures. The construction date of these buildings is not clear, and quite possibly not all of them were erected at the same time. These buildings indicate that Megiddo Stratum VA-IVB served as a provincial administrative centre. The city was conquered and shortly held by the Egyptian army of Shoshenq I in ca. 925 BCE. The seal of 'Shema', servant of Jeroboam' possibly belonged to a high official of Jeroboam I. In 882 BCE Omri ascended the throne by force, and introduced vast changes to the administration of the kingdom. Megiddo continued to be an important provincial centre, but probably lost some of its special importance. Following his ascent to the throne Omri founded a new capital, Samaria, in the heart of the hilly regions of the kingdom. A monumental fortified acropolis, containing the royal palace and various annexed buildings was erected on the summit of the site with the city proper extending over the surrounding slopes. Samaria continued to serve as the capital of the northern kingdom of Israel till its conquest by Sargon II in 720 BCE. Omri and Ahab developed the army, turning it into a large and strong military force which included substantial units of chariotry and cavalry. A large, fortified military centre had to be built, to serve, first and foremost, as a central base for the enlarged army, also as a strong fort for the newly established ruling dynasty. Samaria was the capital, and also located in the hills - thus not suitable for garrisoning chariotry units. On the other hand, Megiddo, at that time an administrative centre characterized by a number of public monumental buildings and domestic quarters, was also unsuitable for the purpose. Therefore it was decided to found a new centre at Jezreel. It seems that several considerations were in mind when choosing this particular site: (1) it was located in a central part of the kingdom, not far from Samaria and Megiddo, near the roads leading to these cities, and near the road leading to Beth-shean and further eastwards. (2) It was located on a topographically dominating summit, but near the Valley of Jezreel rather than in the hilly region. (3) Water, barley and chaff needed for feeding the war horses were available in the valley nearby.

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The enclosure of Jezreel was thus built, probably concurrently with Samaria. The planners and architects of both sites came from the same 'school'. In Jezreel emphasis was placed on the strength of the fortifications rather than on the quality of architecture. Various buildings were probably built inside the large levelled podium. They certainly included a central building - possibly a royal residence. In any case, at least shortly before Jehu's revolt, King Jehoram and the dowager Queen Jezebel were in residence in Jezreel. Probably as a result of an Aramaean campaign of Hazael in the later part of the ninth century BCE, the Jezreel enclosure and the city of Megiddo Stratum VA-IVB were destroyed. The Jezreel enclosure was not rebuilt, and later settlements, in the later Iron Age and the following periods, continuously reused the stones robbed from its walls. The military centre of the northern kingdom of Israel was soon transferred to Megiddo. The ruins of the Stratum VA-FVB city were largely demolished, their stones removed for reuse in the construction of the new Stratum IVA city. The newly built city drastically differed from the previous one, befitting its new role as a military centre. It was surrounded by a strong city wall which included a massive city gate (the so-called 'Solomonic' city gate). A huge water system, two large complexes of stables for horses and a huge silo for keeping chaff were built. The Stratum IVA city remained as a central royal stronghold till the conquest and annexation of northern Israel by Tiglath-Pileser III in 733-732 BCE.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Alt, A. 1954

Der Stadt stoat Samaria. Berlin. Reproduced in: Alt, A. 1959. Kleine Schriften zur Geschichte des Volkes Israel. III. Munich: 258-302. Ahlstrom, G. W. 1993 The Seal of Shema'. Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 7:208-15. Crowfoot, J. W. 1940 Megiddo-A Review. Palestine Exploration Quarterly: 132-47. Crowfoot, J. W. and Crowfoot, G. M. 1938 Samaria-Sebaste II: Early Ivories from Samaria. London. Crowfoot, J. W., Kenyon, K. M. and Sukenik, E. L. 1942 Samaria-Sebaste I: The Buildings at Samaria. London. Davies, G. I. 1986 Megiddo. Cambridge. Finkelstein, I. 2000 Omride Architecture. Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palastina-Vereins 116:114-38. 2002 The Campaign of Shoshenq I to Palestine. Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palastina- Vereins 118:109-35. Finkelstein, I., Ussishkin, D. and Halpern, B. (eds.) 2000 Megiddo III: The 1992-1996 Seasons. (Monograph Series of the Institute of Archaeology of Tel Aviv University 18). Tel Aviv. Finkelstein, I., Ussishkin, D. and Halpern, B. (eds.) Forthcoming. Megiddo IV: The 1998-2002 Seasons. (Monograph Series of the Institute of Archaeology of Tel Aviv University). Tel Aviv.

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2004 Har-el, M. 1994

Herzog, Z. 1997

Ahab Agonistes Masons' Marks from the Ninth Century BCE Northern Kingdom of Israel: Evidence of the Nascent Carian Alphabet? Kadmos, Zeitschrift fur vor- und friihgriechische Epigraphik 40:107-16. Samaria: From the Bedrock to the Omride Palace. Levant 36:189-202. 'The Chariots of Israel and the Horsemen Thereof!' (2 Kings 2:12). In: Judea and Samaria Research Studies, Proceedings of the Third Annual Meeting of the College of Judea and Samaria. (Hebrew). Archaeology of the City. Urban Planning in Ancient Israel and its Social Implications. (Monograph Series of the Institute of Archaeology of Tel Aviv University 13). Tel Aviv.

Kenyon, K. M. 1957 The Evidence of the Samaria Pottery and its Bearing on Finds at Other Sites. In: Crowfoot, J. W., Crowfoot, G. M. and Kenyon, K. M. Samaria-Sebaste III: The Objects from Samaria. London: 198-209. Lamon, R. S. and Shipton, G. M. 1939 Megiddo I: Seasons of 1925-34, Strata I-V. (Oriental Institute Publications 42). Chicago. Morgenstern, J. 1941 Amos Studies, I. Cincinnati. Na'aman, N. 1997 Historical and Literary Notes on the Excavation of Tel Jezreel. Tel Aviv 24:122-8. Olivier, H. 1987 A Tale of Two Cities: Reconsidering Alt's Hypothesis of Two Capitals for the Northern Kingdom. Nederduitse Gereformeerde Teologiese Tydskrif 28:2-19. Reisner, G. A., Fisher, C. S. and Lyon, D. G. 1924 Harvard Excavations at Samaria 1908-1910. l-E. Cambridge, MA. Schumacher, G. 1908 Tell el-Mutesellim I: Fundbericht. Leipzig. Stager, L. E. 1990 Shemer's Estate. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 277/8:93-107. Tappy, R. E. 1992 The Archaeology of Israelite Samaria. Vol. 1: Early Iron Age through the Ninth Century B.C.E. (Harvard Semitic Studies 44). Atlanta. Ussishkin, D. 1980 Was the 'Solomonic' City Gate at Megiddo Built by King Solomon? Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 239:1-18. 1989 Schumacher's Shrine in Building 338 at Megiddo, Israel Exploration Journal 39:149-72. 1990a The Assyrian Attack on Lachish: The Archaeological Evidence from the Southwest Corner of the Site. Tel Aviv 17:53-86. 1990b Notes on Megiddo, Gezer, Ashdod, and Tel Batash in the Tenth to Ninth Centuries B.C. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 277/8:71-91. 1992 Megiddo. In: Anchor Bible Dictionary. Vol. 4. New York. 1994 Gate 1567 at Megiddo and the Seal of Shema, Servant of Jeroboam. In: Coogan, M. D., Exum, J. C. and Stager, L. E. (eds.). Scripture and other Artifacts. Essays on the Bible and Archaeology in Honor of Philip J. King. Louisville: 410-28.

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Ussishkin, D. and Woodhead, J. 1992 Excavations at Tel Jezreel 1990-1991: Preliminary Report. Tel Avw 19:3-56. 1994 Excavations at Tel Jezreel 1992-1993: Second Preliminary Report. Levant 26:1-48. 1997 Excavations at Tel Jezreel 1994-1996: Third Preliminary Report. Tel Aviv 24:6-72. Wightman, G. J. 1985 Megiddo VIA-IH: Associated Structures and Chronology. Levant 17:117-129. 1990 The Myth of Solomon. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 277/8: 5-22. Yadin, Y. 1970 Megiddo of the Kings of Israel. The Biblical Archaeologist 33:66-96. 1978 The House of Baal of Ahab and Jezabel in Samaria. In: Moorey, R. and Parr, P. (eds.). Archaeology in the Levant: Essays for Kathleen Kenyon. Warminster: 127-35. Yeivin, S. The Date of the Seal 'Belonging to Shema' (the) Servant (of) Jeroboam'. 1960 Journal of Near Eastern Studies 19:205-12. Zimhoni, O. 1997 Clues from the Enclosure-Fills: Pre-Omride Settlement at Tel Jezreel. Tel Aviv 24:83-109.

THE ARCHITECTURE OF ISRAELITE TEMPLES

David A. Warburton 1. Introduction The OT attests that aside from the one temple dedicated to Yahweh in Jerusalem, there were other structures dedicated to other gods in Israel. Hitherto, the discussion of sacred architecture of the Israelite period has generally concentrated upon the temple in Jerusalem and separated this question from the architecture known from archaeological excavations in the Holy Land. Aside from some possible cult structures which have hitherto been viewed as representing some continuity with the Bronze Age, it is assumed that there were no urban temples in Early Iron Age Palestine, and Weippert (1988: 447) notes the contrast with the Bronze Age. For the Later Iron Age, she notes the discrepancy between the fact that the OT, epigraphic finds and archaeological small finds all hint at gods and shrines, but must confirm that 'none of the temples named in the texts has yet been archaeologically confirmed' (Weippert 1988: 622). Although slightly more confident, Mazar (1990: 492) can only note that the structure at Tell Dan 'is the only structure mentioned in the Bible that has been positively identified in archaeological excavations'. For Mazar (1990: 496), the shrine at Arad is 'the only known provincial shrine in Judah'. Aharoni's (1978) approach is quite similar. There would appear to be a dearth of cult buildings, and in any case, any other religious architecture is non-Israelite. This situation is quite perplexing because several of the important sites have been excavated, and yet the architectural evidence appears to be absent. We propose that the solution to the conundrum lies in recalling a remark by Weippert (1988: 622) to the effect that the problem may not be the lack of discoveries, but rather that we are unable to identify the typological characteristics of the contemporary religious architecture in the Israelite kingdom. Our approach will be based upon typological features of religious architecture, both in detail and in topographical location. It is quite evident that there is little or no continuity between the Bronze Age and the Iron Age, so that the architectural details of any potential sacred buildings could hardly be projected from the one to the other. Had this been the case, identification would have posed less of a problem. Thus, rather than reviewing the abundant literature on the hypothetical Biblical Temple and its possible appearance and character, this discussion

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will concentrate on the actual structures hitherto discovered in the Holy Land, centring on the tripartite buildings. These are not only the most typical architectural form during the early centuries of the first millennium BC, and specifically typical of the region, but they are also situated in a highly representative fashion, suggestive of a highly symbolic role. Furthermore, their fundamental typological characteristics can be integrated into the larger problem of the origins of the Christian basilica, thus both reinforcing the argument and also solving a major architectural problem. The result is intended to confirm that there is archaeological material testifying to polytheistic Israelite cult architecture dating to the eighth century, with origins in the ninth.

2. The Israelite Tripartite Building The tripartite pillared buildings dating to the period before the fall of the northern kingdom of Israel are one of the most prominent aspects of the archaeology of Iron Age Palestine. There are a number of variations on the theme, but the basic features are the same. In general, two rows of pillars demarcate a central hall, with an aisle on each side (for examples, cf. e.g., Barkay 1992: 314-15). The dimensions vary. It is difficult to be certain, but one can tentatively suggest a division into larger buildings at larger centres (e.g., Megiddo ca. 22 x 12 m; Hazor ca. 20 x 12 m), with smaller variants at peripheral points (at e.g., Beersheba ca. 15 x 10 m, Tell Qasile, ca. 15 x 9 m; Tell Abu Hawwam 11x8 m). The most striking features of these buildings are (a) a uniformity of plan shared across Israel, and (b) that the best examples are built with stone hewn to a quality virtually unknown elsewhere in Palestine at any time. In a number of cases, the buildings have fine floors formed with a pavement of pebbles. For decades the reconstructions of the buildings have suggested that the roof over the central hall was higher than that of the two side rooms (cf. e.g., Lamon and Shipton 1939: 36), i.e., basilical. This would render them highly striking phenomena, indicative of representative architecture. The pillars which define the central aisle have a square or rectangular section with sides ca. 60-80 cm, and were presumably formed by setting a series of blocks together to form a single pillar. The concept of a row of pillars dominated, even where the 'pillars' were not made by piling up blocks of stone, but rather field stones. There are two crucial points in this. One point can be seen in the examples of buildings with the plan, but without the stone blocks (e.g., Tell Hadar, where the pillars were formed of crude slabs, NEAEHL II: 551). The other point is clearly that the intention was not the erection of a wall, but rather the creation of an open space with internal divisions defined by rows of pillars. Together these two elements mean that there was a clearly defined conceptual plan, and that the inspiration for the form was clearly that of the tripartite stone buildings in the major centres, and that the idea emanated from that form, from those centres.

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The most important question which must be addressed after having identified the characteristics is that of the date. The best preserved group of these buildings is that of Megiddo IVA, where they were buried beneath the layers associated with the Assyrian conquest and occupation. The same is true of the buildings at Hazor VHI-VII: they were destroyed in the eighth century. It follows that these must be dated to the eighth century or before, and a ninth century date is compatible with the archaeological evidence. The situation is apparently identical at Beersheba, where some efforts at reconstruction were abandoned after the Assyrian conquest. Barkay suggests that they 'continued in use until the end of the eighth century' (1992: 314), and it is possible to state with near certainty that none of these buildings was built in the seventh century or later. The date of the construction is more difficult. Barkay suggests that some of them may have been built in the tenth century, but there is little evidence which could be used to argue conclusively in favour of such a date. On the other hand, however, for Megiddo, Barkay (1992: 314) suggests that the 'monolithic pillars and fine ashlar troughs may be assumed to have originated in the palaces and monumental structures of strata FVB-VA of the tenth century'. He is therefore suggesting that the buildings at Megiddo were erected with spoils from the earlier city, and that although they are made with material from the earlier period, that they do not represent the original intention. The fact that the buildings are so uniform would suggest that a conceptual plan lay at the base of the idea. At the same time, the mere fact that the buildings are spread across the country renders it rather improbable that all of these buildings were accidentally created by collecting the remains of a different architectural prototype; the existing buildings (in Hazor, Megiddo, Beersheba) could hardly have been the product of an arbitrary refashioning of architectural spoils. It is thus far more compelling to argue that since virtually identical buildings are found across the country, and in differing sizes, that it is highly improbable that these structures were merely the accidental result of a uniform use of spoils from earlier levels. It is possible that these buildings were constructed with spoils from the earlier levels, but it is more logical to assume that if there were in fact any earlier hypothetical buildings from which these parts were taken, it will have been buildings which shared the same plan. However, there is no conclusive evidence for the date of the original constructions. Since none of the buildings can be compellingly dated to the tenth century, a ninth century date seems acceptable. The only possible reasonable conclusion is that these buildings were deliberately constructed with this design, and that they date to the ninth century, and that they were used until the destruction of the kingdom of Israel. Thus, a uniform plan which may have been used throughout Palestine during the eighth and ninth centuries may be assumed. Significantly, while these buildings are distributed across the territory of the modern state of Israel, it would be difficult to find useful parallels outside of this region. Furthermore, within this limited territory, they were also placed very

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prominently on the acropolis of the cities they adorned. In addition, they were also major buildings: at Beersheba the group of these were the 'largest building complex excavated in the city' (Herzog in NEAEHL I: 171). To this, one must add the curious feature of the Proto-Aeolic or Protolonian (according to one's nomenclature, illustration, cf. Barkay 1992: 318) capitals which are the other primary architectural feature of this age. It is remarkable that the sections of these capitals would allow them to fit atop the rectangular pillars (the dimensions generally being ca. 50-60 cm across in the examples available today). It must be admitted that a number of these capitals have slightly larger sections (80-130 cm), but these would easily have fitted atop larger pillars near the entrances. As would be logical, the majority of the capitals have a smaller section. The concept of a series of elegant capitals atop a row of pillars in a well lighted building with representative architecture at an imposing point on the citadel of Hazor, Megiddo, Beersheba, etc. would thus provide a reasonable context for both the buildings and the capitals. At least to the present writer, this would appear to be a more reasonable solution than the reconstruction of the entrance to the citadel at Hazor proposed in the Israel Museum.

3. The Role of the Buildings The remarkable uniformity of these buildings is clear from the fact that easily identifiable examples have been found from Beersheba to Hazor, and at a number of points in between, particularly Megiddo. This in itself demands that a particular concept lay behind the idea, and that the construction of the buildings involved a highly precise intention. Ordinarily, such a uniformity would be associated with an ideological role: these tripartite buildings would ordinarily be viewed as representative buildings. They were prominently placed and thus visibly as well as structurally representative, and in the Ancient Near East, it was normal to erect the most important representative buildings in prominent places in the centre of the city. These were usually temples and palaces. By contrast, in Palestine, they have been identified as storehouses, stables and markets, among other things. Hitherto, therefore, it has not been assumed that these buildings were significant representative architecture. This is highly significant as their location and appearance alone would ordinarily inspire archaeologists to identify such prominent structures in a very different fashion. The references to Solomon allowed them to be identified as stables at Megiddo, disregarding both the inconveniences of housing animals beside the royal compound, and the contrast between the splendour of the buildings and their alleged utility. The large quantities of pottery supported the notion that they were storerooms at Beersheba; however storerooms are usually attached to other more important buildings and do not ordinarily occupy a central position standing in isolation and forming the major part of the architectural

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layout of the city. M. Kochavi (2000) has used the concept of the storerooms to postulate a link to marketplaces: again providing an utter contrast with ordinary archaeological experience, as archaeologists have had great difficulty identifying any marketplaces anywhere in the Near Eastern archaeological record. The contrast with the usual situation is thus clear. Common to each of these proposals is the assumption that the primary feature would be a practical use, that the emphasis would be on a series of bays in the two side aisles, and that the central hall would play a less significant role. Such interpretations suffer from a number of fundamental weaknesses. Firstly is the fact that if the Holy Land is famous for anything, it is cult (rather than, e.g., commerce), and thus there would be a discrepancy between the investment in practical structures and the lack of alternative cult buildings. Secondly, the architectural form of the buildings clearly stresses the central hall and not the aisles, which is clearly related to the third point, namely that the light which will have come through hypothetical windows in the walls reconstructed above the pillars (which is the beauty of the basilical form) would fall into the central hall and not the aisles (which could not have had windows due to the adjoining buildings). Fourthly, the uniformity of the architecture and its peculiarly local tradition stresses that this role must be social and ideological, being some kind of expression of identity shared among the people who built them. But we return to the first point. Near Eastern architectural traditions would demand that they be assigned some fundamentally significant role related to the society in which they served, given the prominence of these buildings in the urban landscape of the cities which housed them. Near Eastern architectural traditions would demand that these buildings served a representative, rather than a functional role. That role must be associated with a specific period, and the evidence implies that those buildings which can be dated can be assigned a date in the ninth or the eighth century. There is no evidence for the construction of such a building in the seventh century, and none for the tenth. In fact, although some of them may still have been standing, there does not seem to be any evidence that any of these buildings was actually used as a representative structure in the seventh century. The case of Beersheba is highly instructive. It is argued that the buildings were erected as storerooms 'as evidenced by the hundreds of pottery vessels' within them (Herzog, NEAEHL I: 171). However, Herzog (NEAEHL I: 172) also observes that 'Well-dressed stones, originally part of a large horned altar...were found incorporated into one of the storehouse walls.' Herzog, Yadin and Aharoni concurred that this altar might have been used for sacrifices at a temple. Equally clear is that the altar was dismantled and the various bits built into the walls of the pre-existing tripartite stone buildings, at the time of the unsuccessful attempt to re-establish the centre after the Assyrian conquest of the northern kingdom of Israel. It is equally clear that these buildings played a prominent role in the city before the time when they were demonstrably used as storerooms, and that at that time, there was a structure used as a shrine of a temple somewhere on the site.

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Although it follows that during the brief interlude after the Assyrian conquest these buildings were actually used as storage buildings, it is inadmissible to contend that the buildings were originally built for use as storehouses. Much more significant is therefore the fact that at the time that these tripartite buildings served as storehouses, whatever building had originally been used as a temple had ceased to function as a temple. It also follows that that temple building where the altar was erected may not have been far from the tripartite buildings into which it was built. Significantly, the excavators assume that the plan of the city can be traced back through to the earliest phase, and thus it can be assumed that these buildings were built as a central part of the city architecture in either the eighth or the ninth century, and that these buildings served a representative role and that they were not far from the place where the temple was located. Obviously, that temple ceased to play an important role in the seventh century. The buildings can therefore be dated to the period of the kingdom of Israel, but to the ninth century, rather than to the earliest phase according to the biblical accounts (which has, in any case, not been documented archaeologically). They are architecturally and chronologically and geographically unique, being virtually unknown elsewhere in the Near East, at least in this form. Similar architecture is not known elsewhere. This architecture is somehow quite typical of the period during which the northern kingdom of Israel flourished, both regionally and temporally. It is clear that this architecture is in some way an expression of the people who made these buildings. Adding the capitals to the architectural form and recognizing their prominent placement would suggest that these buildings were not practical, or at least not exclusively practical. Even without the capitals, these buildings would still be impressive. Thus, whether one argues that these buildings as known are the best examples, or argues that some other similar structures were erected earlier, one is confronted with the fact that these appear to demand a specific association with a specific ethnic and religious identity. 4. Basilical Architecture Aside from the observation made hitherto, for our purposes the most remarkable feature is that the reconstructions of these buildings are usually basilical in form. The basic form of a basilica is that of a central nave with two rows of columns supporting the roof over the central nave, and also creating two parallel aisles. The columns defining the central nave support both the roof of the central nave and the roofs over the two aisles on the sides of the central nave. The roofing of the central nave is elevated with respect to the aisles, permitting the creation of a series of windows which allow the nave to be bathed in sunlight. As is familiar, for several centuries from the fourth century AD onwards, the basilica became the established form of the Christian church. The concept

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is familiar from the architecture of the earliest Christian churches, some of which reveal a curious penchant for doubling the number of aisles along the central nave, and also for defining these aisles as aisles, rather than dividing them into bays. It was only in the Romanesque architecture that the aisles were divided into bays. The primary feature of an early Christian church is, therefore, its tripartite structure. However, the familiar form of a tall central nave flanked by parallel aisles defined by columns was obviously also fundamental for the transformations which created Gothic architecture. This effectively maintained the same principles, but modified them in a very different fashion from that of the earliest basilicas. This in itself stresses the continuity in the fundamental form of the Christian church up to the Renaissance and the Reformation. There are, however, two curious features in the architecture of the earliest Christian basilicas. Firstly, it is not entirely clear whence the basic plan came, and secondly, it is less evident why this particular plan was chosen. These are particularly important questions in view of the importance of the plan for the first millennium of church architecture. Barkay (1992: 314) specifically compares the Israelite tripartite buildings to the 'Roman-Byzantine basilica, a central hall flanked by two parallel aisles, separated by rows of stone pillars'. Although basilicas generally have columns and not pillars, certainly, the form of the architecture would allow the equation with a basilica, and thus allow it to be identified. Significantly, although the basilical concept was incorporated into early Christian church architecture, students of architectural history have difficulties when attempting to locate the origin of the basilica in the Graeco-Roman world. Therefore, in the eyes of the present writer, the significance of the internal organization of these large basilical buildings in Israel lies not merely in the possible ancestry, but also in the general geographical distribution of the original suggested antecedent. For, as noted, the tripartite buildings are more or less restricted to the territory of the modern state of Israel, where they were placed very prominently in the cities of the ancient kingdom. In terms of architectural history, the basic form of the Christian basilicas has been traced back to precedents in Roman architecture suggesting that a peristyle or peripteral design lay at the base of the basilical pattern whereby a series of columns surrounded a central hall. The principle of the plan was to have an enclosed space (defined by the columns) and a continuous hall around that space. The prime example is usually understood to be a structure at Pompey (Nielsen 2003), but reference has also been made to buildings which are allegedly fundamentally similar: structures of the Flavian imperial palace on the Palatine at Rome and the basilica at Porta Maggiore being another, as well as the London Mithraeum (Pevsner 1963: 27-31). There are, however, several fundamental difficulties with this ancestry. The most important is the question of the role, followed by the detailed questions of the unity of the ensuing plans for the proposed antecedents. We will argue that when viewing these Roman precedents, the parallels are generally dissatisfying. Aside from the architectural argument, there is also

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a functional one. Whereas the Roman pre-Christian basilica was basically a secular building, with the introduction of Christianity, basilica and church became virtually synonymous. Thus, there was a change in role if this ancestry is allowed, but the ancestry is less than compelling. As noted, this basilical form was assumed to be inspired by various Roman buildings, and in turn it has been assumed that the Roman form may have been based on Hellenistic predecessors. However, the Hellenistic predecessors are lacking in the archaeological record. The earliest example of a hypothetical ancestor is the basilica at Pompey (Nielsen 2003: 526). In Pompey, the rows of columns form a peripteral and do not extend from one end of the building to the other, and the primary space created by the peripteral columns effectively divided the inner part of the building from the surrounding aisle. In the Christian form, the columns did not define the space so much as stress the central nave, and they basically did not suggest that either the apse or the entrance should be assigned to the same space as the two side aisles. By contrast, the surrounding aisle was clearly demarcated as such in the Roman form. Although it might nevertheless be argued that the form does in essence reveal the basic fundamental principle, the reconstruction (Nielsen 2003: 526) has a gabled roof which covers the entire building, and is thus not a basilica in at least this essential feature. Ultimately, therefore, we argue that based upon the roofing and the interior space, it must be admitted that the parallel with the structure at Pompey should be discarded since the entire structure bears no relation to a Christian basilica. Aside from the original basilical form, there is one other feature of early Christian architecture noted by Pevsner, namely the reluctance to employ vaults. Some other Roman basilicas are vaulted, lacking the fundamental feature of the light-giving windows (Pevsner 1963: 24-31). Thus the crucial elements linking classical architecture to the Christian basilica are lacking. Pevsner's (1963: 25) solution to the problem was that the early Christians viewed the 'mighty vaults of the Romans as something too earthly'. In itself, however, Pevsner ultimately finds himself in three mutually incompatible contradictions with this solution. Firstly, the basilica at Porta Maggiore, which Pevsner (1963: 30) himself cites as an example of a basilica which may have influenced the early Christian architects, was both vaulted and pagan religious, so that Pevsner's logic cannot be accepted if he uses the example. Secondly, since he alleges that the basilical form itself was secular, it would not be consistent to accept the basilica but reject the vault. Also important, however, is the fact that Pevsner himself is conscious of the vaulting in several Mithras sanctuaries. The early Christians may have viewed the vault as pagan, and thus rejected it, but this would not explain the use of the secular form. Most important, however, is that the fundamental feature of the Roman basilica was the peripteral, and not the aisles, whereas Christian churches stressed both nave and aisles. One of the crucial points here was Pevsner's emphasis that according to his reconstruction, the Christian basilica owed its origins to a Roman secular

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building, and yet he stressed that the Chritians rejected the vault as 'too earthly' (Pevsner 1963: 25). Fundamentally, this can only be viewed as a paradox and contradiction, but it can only be understood in terms of architectural history. The Roman architects used vaults for secular architecture, whereas columns and pillars played a greater role in religious architecture, but in fact columns within a building played a very decisive and informative role in Roman architecture. Early Greek temples of the late Archaic and Classical era were dominated by peripteral colonnades (Gruben 2001). By contrast, Roman temples tended to have a porticus with columns behind which was a sanctuary enclosed in walls. This plan may have been based on Etruscan predecessors as described by Vitruvius (e.g., Kostof 1995: 130), but there are abundant examples of a similar plan in Greek architecture as well, including the Nike temple on the Acropolis as well as sanctuaries at Delphi and Aigina. Where columns appeared within buildings in Roman architecture, it was generally to define an open peristyle court in secular buildings. Of fundamental importance for us is that columns played a fundamentally different role in classical architecture than in Christian architecture, and thus that it would be difficult to argue - based on the form - that Classical ancestors must be sought for the basilica. More importantly, however, the windows which are a fundamental element in a Christian basilica would not have been present in any of these variations, equally impossible in both vaults and gables linked to pediments across the entire building. Furthermore, the usual methodology generally neglects the fact that quite a few of the early Christian basilicas had several rows of parallel aisles, rather than a single pair of aisles, each flanking the central nave. The latter form eventually prevailed and came to dominate the Gothic cathedrals, but clearly the origins of the basilical church lie more in a broader structure. The key element of the Christian church was, however, the tripartite plan and the stress on the central nave rather than the columned peripteral. Although the difference in the architecture is only slight, it would be highly remarkable that a secular building served as the model for early Christian churches. The other alternative would be even more improbable, for it would not appear to be compellingly logical to argue that the Christians adopted the form from the Mithraeum. In fact, however, from a typological standpoint there are additional problems. While one could argue that the churches and the Mithraeums shared a common plan, it would be difficult to integrate them into the proposed system of the typology of the Roman basilicas. Like the Mithraeum and the basilica at Porta Maggiore, the buildings on the Palatine have apsidal niches, whereas the basilica at Pompey is a peripteral structure, with columns on all four sides. The Mithraeum was probably, and the Porta Maggiore basilica was certainly, vaulted. By contrast, the reconstruction of the basilica at Pompey assigns it a gabled roof forming a pediment across the entire building, and thus differing from the Christian basilicas. In fact, it is the very form of the roof which is the decisive feature of the Christian basilica.

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Should one develop a category based on the shared characteristics, the basilica at Pompey, those on the Palatine, the basilica at Porta Maggiore, the churches, and the Mithraeums could hardly be identified as a single group with some common characteristics. In some cases a common ground plan can be recognized, but only based on the proposed identification, and not on shared typological features. Taken as a whole, therefore, these structures could not ordinarily be organized to form examples of a single compelling architectural category. Significantly, the Byzantine Christian basilica differs fundamentally from the alleged classical predecessors in the absence of the vault or gabled roof covering the entire facade, and the absence of the peripteral foundation, i.e., in the essential features. Significantly, there are no Hellenistic forebears which could provide a classical origin for the structure, and thus the disparities between the various plans suggest that there is no reason to argue that they are related to some earlier form. For the current author, it is evident that the solution to the origins of the Christian basilica need not be sought in Classical architecture. If, however, we leave the Classical world, we find basilical structures in the Near East. Heinrich (1982, vol. II, fig. 25) has proposed that the tripartite buildings which were typical of the earliest Ubaid and Uruk architecture of fifth and fourth millennia in Mesopotamia may have been basilical in form, in the sense of two side aisles with lower roofs than the central hall - all with flat roofs. However, these evidently lack columns, as columns and pillars are not part of the Mesopotamian tradition. By contrast, columns arrayed in rows supporting a basilical-type raised roof are found in Egyptian architecture, being particularly well represented at Karnak in the Akh-menu of Thutmosis III and the Ramesside hypostyle hall (Haeny 1970). These examples match the basic features of the tripartite buildings built in Israel far better than the Roman parallels. The form of the basilica as an architectural creation is thus of great antiquity and well known, but not necessarily of classical origin. In this sense, these Mesopotamian and Egyptian forms are clearly informative examples, and they are specifically religious architecture (in the sense that the Roman basilicas clearly were not). However, it would be reckless to link these ancient Near Eastern forms with Christian churches without some other supporting data. This applies particularly to the character of the basilica as being a building with a specific roof form, and foundation plan based upon columns inside the building, related to a religious structure. These observations thus offer potential insights into two great mysteries of Levantine architecture dating to the first centuries of our era. Firstly, as noted, even if one accepts (which the current author clearly does not) a Roman ancestry for the Christian basilica, the origins of the structure remain unidentified. Secondly, the architectural inspiration of the early Jewish synagogues has also posed a fundamental problem. The current writer will argue that several of these features are related, and not independent. It is one thing to dismiss a Roman origin for the Christian basilica, and quite another to suggest that there were Mesopotamian and Egyptian parallels. There

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is in fact a substantial temporal gap. And it is here that the architecture of the tripartite pillared buildings of Iron Age Palestine can serve a useful linking role. Given the Egyptian and Mesopotamian precedents, and the Byzantine successors, making the identification is not as difficult as might be imagined. The difficulties of the problem can be at least partially understood because standard introductions (e.g., Nielsen 2003) suggest that the basilica was basically Roman, allowing only that Hellenistic precursors may have existed. In fact, the examples from Egypt, Mesopotamia and early Iron Age Palestine suffice to demonstrate that the concept antedates both the Roman and Hellenistic periods, and that its virtues were widely appreciated. From the structural and aesthetic standpoint, there are, however, ever greater contrasts. The fundamental characteristic of the Greek temple was the colonnade which surrounded the temple, whereas it is the walls which form the visible exterior of the Christian basilicas. The contrast with the Greek temple is therefore striking, for there, the peripteral columns enclosed a space within which were the walls, i.e., traditional Greek religious architecture is the reverse of the model which led to the basilica and the Gothic cathedral. 5. Synagogues This situation is enhanced by two different indicators. One is the early Christian basilicas with their doubled aisles. The other is the architecture of the early synagogues. It is a well-known problem that isolating the specific features of the early synagogue is difficult, since there is considerable variation. The first point is that there really is no evidence of any building that can be archaeologically or architecturally identified as a synagogue or the precursor of a synagogue before the Hellenistic period. Regardless of all speculation, it remains a fact that antecedents are lacking (cf., e.g., Urman and Flesher 1995). Although one can argue that there may have been a need for a communal structure (e.g., Runesson 2001), there is no archaeological evidence for such, nor in any case any architectural evidence for these hypothetical origins. This difficulty is compounded by the fact that there is a great deal of disparity in the architecture of synagogues when they do appear and become recognizable. However, one can insist that a common feature of more than half of the early synagogues is a hall with two rows of pillars or columns (this can easily be seen in the illustrations in, e.g., Urman and Flesher 1995; Runesson 2001; NEAEHL IV: 1423). The common form is even clearer in the synagogues of the Golan (NEAEHL U: 538). This common feature has hitherto been neglected since the unity of the plan was less evident. However, Wilkinson (2002) has in fact investigated the issue from the standpoint of the relationship between the synagogues and the churches, and shown that one can trace them down to a common plan, based on the principle of the basilica. We stress that we argue that his basic observations are valid (as, admittedly, the current author independently came to the same

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conclusion), in the sense that he has identified a common plan shared by a sufficiently large number of synagogues to be identified as such. It is evident that this matter is open to dispute. Levine (1999) has assembled a number of examples, most of which would confirm Wilkinson's argument, but obviously exceptions can be found. The issue is that of the unifying plan, and here there can be no doubt that the exceptions do not form a coherent group, whereas those buildings based upon a double line of columns do form a coherent group, for both the church and the synagogue. The current author therefore agrees with Wilkinson, arguing that there was a relationship between the structures. A curious example of the unity of the plans can be seen at Beth She'arim, where the basic plans of the basilica and the synagogue are quite similar, including the presence of rectangular or square pillars (rather than circular columns) in both (NEAEHL I: 237-8). This form with two rows of rectangular pillars is thus shared in immediate proximity in early Christian times in Palestine. Given the fundamental distinction between pillars and columns the parallels are striking.

6. The Origins and Spread of the Plan Linking the plan of the synagogues with the Christian basilicas may make some sense. However, our main concerns are the character of the tripartite buildings of Palestine and the problem of the origin of the Christian basilica. Earlier, we remarked upon the shared ground plan of the Christian basilica and the Mithraeum. In effect, any typological similarities based upon the typology of the architecture would have to recognize that the Christian form of the basilica was closer to the London Mithraeum than to any other form of Graeco-Roman architecture. Significantly, the common features of the ground plan uniting the Mithraeum and the basilical church are also shared by the synagogue. From a typological standpoint, this is of interest, but like the Christian basilica, the origins of the architecture of the Mithraeum are equally mysterious. And in fact, all three of these forms are more or less contemporary, dating to the first centuries of our era. The absence of antecedents then becomes all the more striking. However, one can pick up part of the path in the last centuries before the birth of Christ by turning to the temples of South Arabia. Like the Mithraeum, the basilica and the synagogue, the South Arabian temples all share a common form in which the walls are erected around the building, and the pillars or columns stand within it (cf. e.g., Schmidt 1982). Originally, these South Arabian buildings were characterized by a series of pillars parallel to, and within, the exterior walls, as in the early synagogues. This tradition thus represents a very clear and unique form based upon stone pillars and associated with religious buildings: a tradition which differs fundamentally from the Greek tradition. Our argument here will be based on the actual archaeological remains and not hypothetical reconstructions or origins. The earliest and closest

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archaeologically documented parallel to the early Christian basilicas is the Mithraeum. However, these are roughly the same dates as the basilicas, the churches and synagogues, although undeniably slightly older than any basilical churches. The closest archaeologically documented parallel to the form typical of the early synagogues will be found in the temples of South Arabia, which are in fact demonstrably older than the Mithraeums, the churches or the synagogues. While the South Arabian temples have the same floor plan, it is unlikely that anyone could persuasively argue that the synagogue and the Gothic cathedral owed their basic plans to a South Arabian temple. Therefore, we suggest the opposite, i.e., seeking the basic structure of the ground plan which eventually gave rise to all of the forms we have been discussing: the South Arabian temples, as well as the Christian basilicas and synagogues. And here, the most convincing source is one which is slightly older: the tripartite buildings of Israel with the fundamental features of a hall divided by rows of columns or pillars. To complete the argument we must take issue with Wilkinson on a fundamental issue, based on the Israelite buildings, the South Arabian temples and the Christian basilicas. Wilkinson basically pursued the basilical plan of the church, stressing a single nave flanked by two aisles. He found this plan in the synagogues. Furthermore, Wilkinson (2002: 1) also proposed that the origins lay in the relationship between the heavenly temple and the temple in Jerusalem, suggesting that the structure of the temple in Jerusalem will have resembled the plan of the basilicas with a single nave. To approach this issue, we return to the actual architecture and the archaeology, and the link between the basilicas and the synagogues, and the ordinary pattern with a single hall and two aisles. Significantly, this approach depends upon neglecting the common doubling of the aisles known from some early basilicas (such as the Church of the Nativity at Jerusalem). We stress that this is an important issue, precisely because of the fact that this must have been a conscious appreciation of religious architecture, and it must have had some antecedent. There is, evidently, no antecedent for such structures in the proposed Classical origins of the basilica. Thus far, we have argued that based upon typological approaches, there is in any case no reason to maintain a Classical origin for the basilica. Our concern now is to turn to the archaeological and architectural evidence. As remarked above, the Israelite tripartite structures frequently come in groups, the most prominent examples being those at Beersheba and Megiddo. In the case of Megiddo, the erection of a wall around the courtyard in front of the entire group of buildings underlined that the entire group was to be understood as a single conceptual unit. From an architectural standpoint, this is extremely instructive since in architectural terms the plans could therefore also be read as indicating a series of parallel aisles - rather than as mere rows of buildings. And this is precisely the peculiarity which distinguishes those early Christian basilicas with several parallel rows of aisles from both their alleged Roman antecedents and the synagogues. Thus, there is another key element which is disregarded when making comparisons

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linking the Roman basilica and the early Christian basilicas. And one which is present in the Israelite tripartite buildings. That such rows of columns and aisles are present in the ancient Egyptian basilical structures should also be evident. Furthermore, one can note that the plan of the synagogue at Gaza (NEAEHL II: 464) reveals the doubling of the aisles in the same fashion as the Justinian Church of the Nativity at Bethlehem; Constantine's basilica there will also have had a similar plan (Crowfoot 1941: 18, 78), with two flanking aisles. This approach would therefore stress the presence of several aisles and the raised central nave, more than the tripartite form alone. We argue, therefore, that it is more logical to link the forms of the basilicas and the synagogues, not with Roman peristyle or peripteral forms, but rather with the tripartite buildings of ancient Israel, with the suggestion that the continuity of architectural form was also linked to a continuity of the concept of a religious building. According to the logic of this architectural history, the basic form of a temple in Iron Age Israel was a simple tripartite pillared building of basilical form. This simple form was complemented by a variant in which several such buildings were placed side by side, possibly with two variants. One variant might have had a central nave flanked by several aisles, with one centre of worship for one god. The other variant may have had several individual basilical buildings in parallel, each with its own god. The common point would be the character of the form as distinctly religious. This form will have been adopted in several variants. One will have led to the creation of the synagogue as a hall flanked by aisles, and another to the church in its basilical form whereby the Roman basilica form was merged into this ancient Israelite form. This form will have produced variants with several aisles, depending upon the alternative tradition of the major centres. In fact, as we have argued elsewhere (Warburton 2005), the number of pillars in the halls of some of the later South Arabian temples adumbrates the development of the mosque as a vast open space, and thus one can perceive another possible variation. This alternative tradition will have been significant in the later development of mosque architecture, whereby the stress was laid not on the central nave, but rather on the series of aisles which created a large space. This tradition - as visible in the Umayyad mosque at Damascus and al-Aqsa in Jerusalem - was combined with the tradition of the Prophet's house at Medina, and produced forms such as that of the mosque at Cordoba, where the stress was on the vast space resulting from the multiplication of the rows of pillars. This same tendency would therefore unite mosques with the early churches and synagogues with several parallel aisles. The opposite tendency was that adopted in those forms which produced the Gothic Cathedral and the Mithraeum. Like the Gothic church, the Mithraeum was dominated by a single hall, and would thus seem to reflect a less perfect match with these versions. As noted, however, the Roman examples for the antecedents of the basilica are not particularly enlightening, and thus the result of our approach was to leave the Mithraeum likewise unaccounted

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for in terms of the Roman basilica. However, in contrast to some potential arguments in favour of the Christian basilica, it is highly legitimate to seek the origins of the Mithraeum in the Orient. We can link the Mithraeum to the Christian basilica, and also to the one-hailed variant of the Israelite tripartite buildings, but we can also link the tripartite form to the architectural traditions of early Mesopotamia. In this sense, the Israelite buildings can thus be linked to the Uruk and Ubaid buildings. In fact, therefore, the origin of the tripartite form as a fundamentally religious structure can be traced back to the Ubaid and Uruk tripartite buildings of Mesopotamia - and followed through history. The transept visible in the earliest Christian basilicas (e.g., the church of the Nativity at Bethlehem) corresponds to the hall at the end of the Uruk tripartite buildings. It was only later that the hall was shifted further towards the centre to produce the cruciform foundation plan and thus the earliest basilicas (and many Romanesque churches) had an even closer resemblance to the Uruk tripartite temples than one might be initially inclined to believe - and far closer to these than to Roman basilicas. According to this interpretation, therefore, these tripartite pillared buildings will have been part of a tradition which was at the origin of the Christian basilica, the Jewish synagogue, and the Islamic mosque. Characteristic of all is the concept of a religious building with outer walls, within which are rows of pillars or dividers which separate two parallel aisles from the main hall. This concept differs distinctly from the concept of a row of columns supporting a roof structure within which is a chamber enclosed by walls, as is typical of Greek architecture. It also differs fundamentally from the concept of columns within a building which demarcate a peristyle courtyard, as is typical of Roman architecture. This eastern tradition thus represents a very clear and unique form based upon stone pillars and associated with religious buildings, which is clearly not of Classical origin. It will be noted that one of the distinct differences between the early Israelite architecture, the basilica, and the synagogue lay in the use of pillars as opposed to columns. The use of columns can be associated with GraecoRoman usage, having influenced both synagogues and basilicas. The use of pillars or buttresses was more common in the Near East, and continued into South Arabian architecture. The mosque likewise employed columns for the first centuries of Islam. However, the Egyptian traditions obviously incorporated columns from an early date, so that these two can be traced back to earlier times. But they cannot be related to the Israelite buildings treated here: it is only the tripartite form and its basilical manifestation which is pertinent to the Israelite variant here. In this sense it will have been the unifying factor for all of these different forms of religious architecture. This is quite remarkable given the importance of 'trinities' in the religions of the Mediterranean area - which do not seem to bear any relation to the achitecture. One could argue that the architecture was the original formative base upon which the later textual traditions were ultimately based.

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Such speculation is immaterial, however. The fact of the matter is that under ordinary circumstances, these Iron Age tripartite pillared buildings of Palestine would ordinarily be identified as temples.

7. Conclusions We can, therefore, now try to draw together the various strands of the story. Our first set of observations is a summary of the remarks on the architecture of the tripartite pillared buildings which date to the period of the northern kingdom of Israel. In principle, they are mainly restricted to this kingdom, and certainly not known to have been used in a representative role in Judah after the destruction of Israel (taking, e.g., the case of Beersheba as highly illuminating). They can be identified as representative architecture, and there is no justification for the speculation that these buildings were constructed with spoils from undocumented buildings with another architectural style. Based on ordinary architectural patterns, it can be argued that their prominence in the cities of the kingdom would demand that they be assigned an ideological role in society. Temples would be amongst the most prominent representative buildings one could expect to find in ancient Near Eastern cities. It is a fact that these Iron Age stone buildings bear an uncanny resemblance to early Christian basilicas, based upon several shared architectural traits. In particular, the architecture of the early Christian basilicas with their two rows of columns have a remarkable similarity to some early synagogues, but also, in a very close fashion, both to South Arabian temples and to the Mithraeums. At the same time, we stress that the Christian basilicas did not ordinarily have vaults, and repeat that in general there is no reason to maintain the link with the Roman basilicas, or any hypothetical Hellenistic counterparts. In fact, for the Christian basilicas, there is no prototype as close as the Israelite buildings, and the same is true of a few early synagogues which bear a striking similarity to the Iron Age pillared buildings of Israel. The character of the Christian basilica as a religious structure cannot be doubted, and the same is true of synagogues, South Arabian temples and Mithraeums, quite aside from the fact that these all share some architectural features. Given the links with the Christian churches and the Mithraeums, one could assume that all of these various forms are in some way related, and shared a religious role. Furthermore, in contrast to the generally recognized fact that religious architecture can be related to known archaeological finds or existing architectural traditions, the architectural origins of churches and synagogues are viewed as mysterious or peculiar. Nor is the architecture of religious buildings generally arbitrary in known religions. In this case, the Israelite buildings can be assigned a fundamental role as being at a certain point along the evolution of these later forms. They are not at the origin, however, since the Israelite structures can be traced back to the basilical forms of Egyptian temples and the tripartite structures of ancient Mesopotamia.

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These Iron Age pillared buildings are restricted to the northern kingdom of Israel and synagogues are restricted to the Jewish people. Under ordinary circumstances, it would follow that the representative tripartite pillared buildings of Ancient Israel were religious buildings, and would be identified as temples. In contrast to these patterns, we stress that the early Christian basilicas occasionally had a doubling of aisles on the sides, and that the structures at Megiddo and Beersheba definitely confirm the repetition of the tripartite structures, suggesting parallel buildings with the same role. While it is clear that the Christian structures cannot be viewed as polytheistic, there is no reason to assume that the Iron Age antecedents were monotheistic, where several buildings are built in parallel. In the case of the South Arabian temples and the Mithraeums, such doubling is unknown, as would logically follow since these structures were each dedicated to a single god. Ordinarily, the duplication would therefore mean that there were a number of temples, and therefore gods, in the land of Israel, given the simultaneous existence of several such buildings in Megiddo, Razor and Beersheba. One can associate the end of this tradition with the Assyrian conquest. In the same fashion, the unification of temple service (and perhaps even the beginnings of monotheism) in the later period can also be confirmed, given the absence of similar buildings in the seventh century. It therefore follows that these temples are the characteristic feature of the polytheistic religion of Israel depicted in the OT, and that they are the primary form of religious architecture in the northern kingdom of Israel, of the ninth and eighth centuries BCE. The primary link between the basilicas and the Israelite buildings depends on one major assumption. This is that at least one of the buildings survived in some form (physical or conceptual) from the Iron Age so that it could serve as a template for the religious architecture of the monotheistic religions. It should be evident that the role of this building will clearly have undergone a fundamental transformation for it to be revived in an entirely different form as a building of communal worship, rather than a temple. This transformation could only take place after a few centuries during which the primary purpose remained in the collective consciousness, but it also required a fundamental break during which the building itself ceased to exist and during which this form of architecture was completely neglected - while remaining familiar. This legitimacy of the suggested link between these buildings and the basilicas, synagogues, and mosques can be argued since at the beginning of our era the kingdom of Israel was viewed as the homeland of monotheism. There is, however, no reason to assume that such a system of belief actually existed in the Iron Age when the buildings were built and used. The nature of the buildings as discussed here would imply that they were temples and part of a widely recognized polytheistic system of belief - but one restricted to the kingdom of Israel. The primary obstacle to the recognition of these buildings has been the textual tradition, which has apparently assumed that ancient Israel was primarily ideologically a monotheistic state and that the major temple was

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at Jerusalem. The secondary obstacle has been the tendency to use the later traditions to study both the archaeology and the architecture which have been discovered, and then to use literary and other traditions to develop architectural understanding. It is evident that such ideas will have contributed to some of the conceptual reconstructions of the biblical Temple (as, e.g., Lundquist 1997: 326). While these are based on the biblical descriptions, one must bear in mind that the date at which those descriptions will have been written down in their final form is a matter of debate. Furthermore, it would be difficult to argue that any of the descriptions known from the OT today were definitely based upon personal observation by the scribe who actually recorded the final text. It follows that that scribe may have been influenced by existing buildings of his day or by interpretations at the time that he was writing - as is the case with modern scholars studying the material today. Our assumption is that the actual buildings erected in the ninth century antedated both the written record of the OT and the monotheistic OT religion of the state of Judah of the seventh century, and later. However, this is of no relevance, for our argument is not based on the textual traditions, or the arguments about the textual traditions, nor the religion; it is based on the actual monuments. We merely stress that the textual traditions have had a substantial impact upon architectural reconstructions, quite aside from their impact on the interpretation of archaeological material. These textual traditions have influenced our reading of the archaeology of Palestine. More significantly, we also argue that these textual traditions have also had a negative impact on the capacity of archaeologists to objectively judge their finds - for otherwise the tripartite buildings would never have been identified as anything except temples. These tripartite buildings should be viewed as a major source for the understanding of the religion of ancient Israel.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Aharoni, Y. 1978 Barkay, G. 1992

The Archaeology of the Land of Israel. Philadelphia: Westminster. 'The Iron Age n-DT, in A. Ben-Tor (ed.), The Archaeology of Ancient Israel (New Haven & London: Yale University Press, The Open University), pp. 302-73.

Crowfoot, J. W. 1941 Early Churches in Palestine. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Gruben, G. 2001 Griechische Tentpel und Heiligtiimer. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft. Haeny, G. 1970 Basilikale Anlagen in der Agyptischen Baukunst des Neuen Reiches. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner. = Beitrage zur Agyptischen Bauiorschung und Altertumskunde 9.

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Heinrich, E. 1982 Kochavi, M. 2000

Die Tempel und Heiligtiimer im alien Mesopotamien. 2 vols. Berlin: de Gruyter. 'Bronze and Iron Age Market Places in the Southern Levant', paper, 2nd International Conference on the Archaeology of the Ancient Near East.

Kostof, S. 1995 A History of Architecture. New York: Oxford University Press. Lamon, R. S. and G. M. Shipton 1939 Megiddo I. Chicago: Oriental Institute Publications 42. Levine, L. 1999 The Ancient Synagogue. New Haven: Yale University Press. Lundquist, J. M. 1997 'Biblical Temple', in E. M. Meyers (ed.) Oxford Encyclopedia of the Archaeology in the Near East (Oxford: Oxford University Press), I: 324-30. Mazar, A. 1990 The Archaeology of the Land of the Bible. New York: Doubleday. NEAEHL = E. Stern (ed.). 1993 New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land. 4 vols. New York: Simon & Schuster. Nielsen, I. 2003 'Basilica', Brill's New Pauly (Leiden: Brill), II: 525-31. Pevsner, N. 1963 An Outline of European Architecture. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Runesson, A. 2001 The Origins of the Synagogue. Uppsala. Schmidt, J. 1982 'Zur Altsiidarabischen Tempelarchitektur', Archaologische Berichte aus dem Yemen 1: 161-9. Urman, D. and P. V. M. Flesher (eds.) 1995 Ancient Synagogues. 2 vols. Leiden: Brill. Warburton, D. A. 2005 'Tripartite Pillared Buildings in Israel', in P. Carstens et al. (eds.), Et blandet bceger (Copenhagen: ANIS), pp. 238-58. Weippert, H. 1988 Palastina in Vorhellenistischer Zeit. Munich: Beck. Wilkinson, J. 2002

From Synagogue to Church. London: RoutledgeCurzon.

Part III CONCLUSIONS

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REFLECTIONS ON THE DISCUSSION Lester L. Grabbe

The ultimate aim of this volume, as all the others produced by the ESHM, is to ask about methodology in the task of writing history. The present chapter presents my reflections - how I see the discussion and its implications.1 This discussion will begin by looking at some of the individual issues that received more sustained discussion. It will then move to a more synthetic presentation about the implications of these and other examples for a coherent theory. The final part of the chapter is on the question of methodology. As will be evident, there is no consensus as such, but some views are more dominant than others - as this chapter demonstrates. Above all, we have had a chance to air our views in a forum that listens to them seriously but critically. Please note that a surname without a date refers to the paper by that individual in the present volume.

1. Archaeology and Material Culture Archaeology is a main source for any study of the history of ancient Israel (using 'source' to mean any source of data, not just written sources). This declaration might seem too obvious to need stating, since archaeology has often been invoked with regard to the history of Israel. Yet it is amazing to what extent archaeology takes a backseat in historical reconstruction. Even some archaeologists seem to base their actual view of history first and foremost on the text and are unwilling to let archaeology be the main guide. Three of the contributors drew extensively on archaeology to achieve the aims of their papers, incidentally giving between them a reasonable overview of the archaeology of the period to the interested reader (Ussishkin, Warburton, and Grabbe [also Liverani 2003; 2005]). Liverani and Grabbe give a general survey and summary of the archaeology. D. Warburton's concern is the tripartite building, known primarily from sites in the Northern Kingdom during the ninth and eighth centuries (although some might be as early as the tenth, none so far is as late as the seventh century BCE). The use of this sort of building has been the subject of some controversy, barracks, 1. My comments were, however, circulated to all participants for their own comments and criticisms.

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stables, and storage houses being some suggested purposes. But Warburton argues that they were temples, pointing out the ubiquitousness of this building form and also the astonishing lack of identified temples so far for this period. There is evidence that the buildings were sometimes used at some point for storage and other functions (e.g., at Beersheba). Interestingly, the form seems to have survived into the form of the early synagogue and then the Christian basilica. D. Ussishkin's aim was to show how archaeology should be allowed to speak in its own right, without subordinating it to the text. He does this by focusing on three main sites relating to the Omride dynasty. The similarities of Megiddo, Samaria, and Jezreel in building technique and other ways allow things to be said about the development of the wider Northern Kingdom. This demonstrates that the Megiddo stratum VA-IVB preceded the Omri dynasty and was probably the city captured by Shoshenq in the late tenth century; however, Shoshenq did not destroy the city but made it his administrative centre. Subsequently, Omri seems to have built both Samaria and Jezreel. The destructions of Jezreel and Megiddo VA-IVB were most likely at the same time, however, and accomplished by the Aramaeans. But whereas Jezreel was abandoned, Megiddo was rebuilt and strongly fortified (stratum FVA). This requires a significant redating and rethinking of the course of history in the Northern Kingdom. Ussishkin's interpretation needs to be compared with other views. The conventional view associates Megiddo IVB-VA with the tenth century and a destruction by Shoshenq, and Megiddo FVA with the ninth (Barkay 1992: 314). On the other hand, N. Franklin (2004; 2005, forthcoming) has come up with a radically new interpretation of the remains from Samaria. She argues that Building Period 0 is the earliest, including primarily rock-cut cisterns and associated wine and oil preparation areas, which she assigns to the preOmride settlement. In her view Building Period I covered all of the Omride dynasty and part of Jehu's (including two rock-cut tombs below the Building Period I palace which she has identified as tombs of Omride kings). Building Period II consisted of a new regime during which time the summit of Samaria became a strictly administrative centre. A correlation between Megiddo VA-IVB and Samaria Building Period I is indicated by mason marks. Megiddo IVA and Samaria Building Period II can be correlated by their construction techniques, including the use of the Assyrian cubit for the layout of the ground plans. This illustrates how conscientious professional archaeologists may interpret the same data in rather different ways. Similarly, the current debate on the 'low chronology' (too extensive to discuss here, but see the summary in Grabbe) shows that making sense of the material culture can be far from straightforward. Older handbooks and histories of Israel need significant correction at some points, and the reconstruction of Israelite and Judahite history needs to recognize these new ways of looking at the data (see further below at 'Reconstruction of the History of Israel and Judah').

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2. Inscriptions Several inscriptions came up for discussion, primarily the Mesha and Tel Dan stelas, but also the Samaria ostraca and the Assyrian inscriptions. As important primary sources, these have considerable implications for reconstructing history at this time, but different writers evaluated some of them differently. The Tel Dan inscription generated a good deal of debate and a flurry of articles when it first appeared, but it is now widely regarded (a) as genuine and (b) as referring to the Davidic dynasty and the Aramaic kingdom of Damascus. I. Kottsieper argues that the inscription refers to a treaty between Damascus and Israel. The author of the inscription (identified as Hazael) is justifying his actions in attacking and killing both Joram of Israel and Ahaziah of Judah. However, the actual deed was carried out by Jehu, acting on Hazael's orders. Jehu soon rebelled in turn, and Hazael conquered Dan and set up the stela. This interpretation sees a good deal of historicity in at least the core of the biblical account, but it is only the inscription that makes possible a full interpretation of the story. One of the most important inscriptions remains the Mesha stela or Moabite stone, which was discussed in some detail by no fewer than three of the contributors. T. L. Thompson compares it with other inscriptions in the ancient Near East which share a common royal ideology that he calls 'testimony of the good king' (see below the section 'Literary Considerations'). He is making a general point about literary analysis, and his conclusions about the Mesha stela as such are more implicit than expounded in detail; nevertheless, he seems to reach a more negative conclusion on the extent to which the inscription can be used for history of the period. Much of his discussion is of the account in 2 Kings, rather than the Mesha stela, however, and his precise conclusions about the Moabite inscription are not very clear. Both A. Lemaire and N. Na'aman take a different view (the former explicitly disagreeing with Thompson). They both believe that the inscription gives us a good deal of useful information about both Israel and Moab in this period. Contrary to Thompson, they both label it a 'commemorative inscription', though Na'aman points out that Moab did not yet have a convention of royal inscriptions, which resulted in some differences from other texts of the genre. In agreement with Thompson, neither thinks that the Mesha inscription can be taken at face value, since it reflects the propaganda of Mesha himself, as well as raising the question of how much of the events described there he had witnessed at first-hand (Lemaire dates it to about 810 BCE; Na'aman, somewhat earlier). Mesha's general boasts must be taken with a grain of salt, but his statements about taking Nebo and slaughtering the inhabitants is not likely to have been mere invention. On the other hand, the expedition of three kings against Moab in 2 Kings 3 is not reflected in the inscription. Lemaire suggests that by Mesha's time it was long in the past and did not reflect well on Moab, leading Mesha to quietly forget it and focus on his building programme. Na'aman sees this as a prophetic legend about Elisha, written long after the events and containing

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only a small historical core. Thus, both Mesha and the Dtr-H give a theological interpretation of events, one to the greater glory of Yhwh and the other to the greater glory of Chemosh. This might suggest that certain elements in common were due to this ideological aim, a reasonable conclusion; on the other hand, if realia in the text (names, places, specific events) are the same, this would strongly support the conclusion that such things were authentic.

3. Literary Considerations Several contributors dealt specifically with literary questions, whether in relation to the biblical text or other writings. T. L. Thompson analysed the Mesha inscription in the light of a number of other ancient writings from Mesopotamia, Asia Minor, and Syria. He suggests that approximately 15 thematic functions permeate the contents of Mesha and these other writings, including a statement of legitimation, recognition of divine participation as a primary cause, building temples or cities, blessing, curse, and prayer. This leads him to argue that names and other data have the literary function of creating plausibility but in its literary (fictive) world. Historicity cannot be affirmed on the basis of the stories but only from confirmation from other texts. (See further below under The Question of Probability'.) Also in the context of the Mesha inscription, N. Na'aman analysed 2 Kings 3, and noted a number of parallels with 1 Kings 22, with Jehoshaphat prominent in both. The two stories could have originally been one which was only later split by Dtr-H. This literary analysis suggests a late composition of the original story, not long before the composition of Dtr-H. In the context of his many studies on Chronicles, E. Ben Zvi considers how the Chronicler represented the reign of Ahab. As he notes, Omri is not mentioned in Chronicles (except as the father of Athaliah), and Ahab occurs only briefly, in marked contrast to 2 Kings. This already shows a theological choice of data, since the Chronicler elected to take only data relating to the history of Judah from his main source (1 and 2 Kings), and he thus brings in the Northern Kingdom only as it relates to the former. He has in effect censored a considerable portion of the data available to him because of his theological aims. The point is that the House of David should not become an ally or partner with the Northern Kingdom. The fact that this core of meaning was shared by the community does not point to a high level of historicity. The Chronicles portrait of Ahab should not be used to 'correct' the one in Kings. D. Pruin examines the Jezebel tradition. In the story's present form Jezebel is the prime mover in leading Ahab and Israel astray after Baal, including promoting the Baal cult in Samaria, with hundreds of prophets of Baal and Asherah, and persecuting the prophets of Yahweh. She is a stronger character than Ahab and manipulates him by flattery, sympathy, and helping him to obtain his desires even when they are illegitimate. She appears as the sexually alluring but devious and guileful foreign woman, the harlot in both metaphorical (religious) and literal senses. This picture is achieved, however,

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by a long process of editing. The historical Jezebel was probably a Phoenician princess who married Ahab and brought her native cult with her to her new home. Only a couple of the traditions go back to a time close to the original events: the revolt of Jehu and the fragment of Elijah as a rainmaker. The Naboth's vineyard incident is an accretion, to be dated to the eighth and seventh centuries. This analysis illustrates how the tradition developed over time to create a picture much different from the original historical reality, but it also argues for the persistence of original material that might be teased out of the heavily edited material before us. What these literary analyses show is the importance of considering the literary form, structure, and aim of a story. This may remove some or all historicity from the surface text. But as discussed further (under 'The Question of Probability' below) literary analysis is essential, but finding literary structure and conventions does not automatically make one dismiss historicity fom the text. It might do so (as Ben Zvi suggests with regard to Chronicles) or it might make one conclude that only certain parts of the story should be used for historical purposes (see the analysis of Pruin). But the rather negative conclusion of Thompson with regard to the Mesha inscription and also the biblical text represents only one point of view and not a conclusion that necessarily or automatically arises from a literary analysis.

4. The Question of Probability Both E. A. Knauf and L. L. Grabbe explicitly discussed in terms of relative probability what portions of the biblical narrative might be reliable. 'Probability' is of course a statistical term, whereas the data we have of the history of the ancient region of Palestine are not sufficient in most cases to attempt a proper statistical analysis. What we do instead is give a judgment of notional probability of various points in the narrative: which are more likely, which less likely, which are unlikely. It is no different from what historians have long been doing, but an attempt to grade events in shades of gray rather than as either black (rejected) or white (accepted) seems desirable. As already noted, Liverani's study (2003; 2005) with its division into 'normal history' and 'invented history' seems to be a promising method of trying to come to grips with the different aspects of the biblical narrative. Like it or not, in a history of Israel (or ancient Palestine or southern Syria or whatever term one wishes to use) the biblical books have to be dealt with in some way, and one's way of dealing with them has to be justified methodologically. Thompson has done a good job of analysing some of the literary conventions common to a variety of ancient Near Eastern inscriptions. But any writing draws on its literary tradition and context; to find a writing that does not make use of literary conventions would be unusual indeed. To conclude that one can find literary stereotypes in any writing is hardly novel, but to conclude that stereotypical equals non-historical is unjustified. Thompson's main point, though, is that the commonalities between various inscriptions

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mean that on the basis of the stories within them - even if plausible - we cannot judge historicity. Instead, historicity can be determined only on the basis of confirmation from other texts. I would agree up to a point, but there is a serious flaw in this argument: the 'other texts' drawn on to confirm the historicity will themselves contain literary conventions and stereotypes, which will then require other texts to confirm their historicity, and so on. We face an infinite regression of texts! The fact is that we can - must - make critical judgments without the support of this infinite textual regression (which of course does not exist). Although as Thompson rightly points out, plausibility is not sufficient to prove a text's historicity, it is a first step. We also have the process of 'triangulation', in which two texts mutually support each other in unconscious data whose significance the author was not likely to be aware of. To take one example, Thompson is justified in noting the problem with using the Mesha stela to confirm interpretations that are not in fact found in the biblical text. Yet when he says that there is no 'explicit biblical information about Mesha or the Moabite king having been a vassal of Israel under Omri or under his son', I think this starts to become a quibble. After all, the text says, 'Moab rebelled against [~3 JH0B] Israel after Ahab's death' (2 Kgs 1.1), and, 'Mesha the king of Moab was a sheepbreeder and used to send the wool of 100,000 lambs and 100,000 rams to the king of Israel, but when Ahab died, the king of Moab rebelled against [~D UCJS] the king of Israel' (2 Kgs 3.4-5). It seems to me that, in context, the most likely interpretation is that Moab had become a vassal of Israel during Ahab's reign. It is interesting that one example used by Thompson is that of the story of Balaam (Num. 22.2-24.25) and the Deir 'Alia inscription. My argument, however, was not about the Pentateuch or an inscription of a legendary figure; my argument was about 1 and 2 Kings and contemporary royal inscriptions from Assyria. Now, lest it be pointed out that I have made an a priori judgment, I recognize that I have made such a judgment with regard to the Assyrian inscriptions. (I don't make such a judgment with regard to 1 and 2 Kings because their data are being tested.) I have picked those contemporary inscriptions that by common consent provide historical data. I have in fact done what Thompson argued: tested historicity in the biblical text by confirming it from other inscriptions (but also the material culture in some cases). Thompson is correct that literary genre does not by itself determine the question of credibility, though he seems to understand it in a negative sense: the fact that something is written in a historiographic genre does not guarantee its historicity. He is right, but we once more run into the matter of probability. He notes explicitly that there is no difference between a prophetic tale and one about a king. But I would argue that there is a difference between a prophetic tale and a court chronicle. The aim of tales about prophets is something other than just describing historical realia, whereas the chief aim of a chronicle is to record certain events or data from the past. It is always possible that a fictional story can be cast in the form of a chronicle - it is unlikely that this

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can often be ruled out a priori - but it is more often the case that chroniclelike writings will yield usable historical data than prophetic legends. I also take exception to his statements that I made a 'suggestion that biblical texts be granted the assumption of historicity', that there are 'three categories of "information" Grabbe would privilege: royal names, chronology and the order of royal successsion', and that I 'would prefer to privilege through an assumption of historicity' biblical chronology. These statements all give a misleading impression of what I argued and what I think. First of all, I did not start from the assumption that names of kings and their dates were accurate or historical. On the contrary, the whole point of my article was to ask the question, What biblical data - if any - might be more likely than not to provide reliable data? After a lengthy investigation, I concluded that in 1 and 2 Kings the list of Israelite and Judahite kings, their order, and their approximate timeframe seem to be confirmed by external sources. We can debate how this came about, but as a 'fact' I believe it is undisputable.2 Therefore, in a text in 1 and 2 Kings without external confirmation it is probable (i.e., with 50 per cent or greater probability) that a named king did in fact rule and - if there are data about the timeframe - this reign was more likely than not to have been in the general period of time that the text suggests. I have not a priori given 'an assumption of historicity' to the biblical text; any presumption of historicity is a posteriori, and it is always a question of probability.

5. Reconstruction of the History of Israel and Judah All of the discussion is ultimately in aid of reconstructing the history of Israel and Judah during the Omri and Jehu dynasties: the reigns of Saul, David and Solomon lie outside this volume (but see Grabbe (ed.) forthcoming a and forthcoming b), though several authors touch on the question. Here the various contributors - while not necessarily agreeing among themselves - paint a picture significantly different from the biblical picture, at least in parts. Grabbe suggests that the names and sequence of kings in Israel and Judah, and their approximate chronological placement, agrees with what can be gleaned from extra-biblical sources. To this extent the biblical framework (meaning primarily 1 and 2 Kings) is reliable: even if we had no external sources we could have reasonable confidence in the biblical sequence of Jeroboam I, Nadab, Baasha, Elah, Omri, Ahab, Jehu, etc. in Samaria, and David, Solomon, Rehoboam, Abijam, Asa, Jehoshaphat, etc. in Jerusalem, along with their interrelationships. Beyond that it starts to get more and more tricky, with decreasing reliability in the biblical narrative as the detail increases (this is a general statement, and there are sometimes exceptions in specific instances). As E. Ben Zvi has shown, however, the same degree of historicity for 1 and 2 Chronicles as for 1 and 2 2. For further discussion of this point, with references to original sources, see Grabbe 1997,1998, 2005.

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Kings cannot be presumed, and the former should not be used to 'correct' the latter. This is important because a number of scholars still use Chronicles in their historical reconstruction without critical analysis. First, what was the nature of the Omride kingdom? H. M. Niemann interprets Omri and his successors as a mobile warrior leader. The Northern Kingdom reflected this in its structure. Less emphasis was placed on a permanent centre (Samaria was not a capital city, for example), but society remained largely tribal (as it had traditionally been) and precedence was given to maintaining the military strength. Samaria served as an administrative unit, but administrative structures were not well developed (e.g., no network of civil servants across the country). E. A. Knauf presents the thesis that the Omride kingdom was not independent but a vassal of Damascus. This goes against much of the thinking that has gone into writing past histories of Israel. It might seem to be incompatible with Niemann's characterization of the Northern Kingdom, but not necessarily. There may be an analogy with feudalism in medieval Europe in which a warrior king might still swear loyalty to another, greater king. However, neither scholar discusses the question, and it remains to be seen whether either sees his view as excluding the other interpretation. The archaeology is our main key to the history of the three Omride cities of Samaria, Megiddo, and Jezreel. According to 1 Kgs 16.24, Samaria was founded anew on a hill, though the excavations showed a situation in which the hill of Samaria originally had farming and industrial installations (Franklin 2004; 2005; forthcoming). D. Ussishkin points out how the Omride compounds at both Samaria and Jezreel show a common time of origin; Megiddo VA-FVB, on the other hand, was apparently not contemporary, though not much time separated them. This leads to the following conclusion: Shoshenq captured Megiddo about 925 BCE but did not destroy it. Then, when Omri came to the throne, he built Samaria as a capital of his kingdom, but he also needed a military centre. Jezreel was built to house troops and especially war horses and chariots, but with a royal residence. An important part of the biblical account of Ahab is the story of Jezebel, which D. Pruin examines. The picture with which we are all familiar is achieved by a long process of editing, apparently beginning from a tradition of a Phoenician princess who married Ahab and brought her native cult with her to her new home. Ahab himself was evidently a Yahwist, as the names of his children (by Jezebel) indicate, though it would not have been unusual at this time if he also honoured other gods. A number of the literary features denigrating Jezebel were most likely accretions from a much later time. That she was killed in a palace coup is of course quite plausible. The fall of the Omride dynasty and the rise of Jehu's have been illuminated by the Mesha and Tel Dan inscriptions, as well as archaeology. It suggests that the land of Madaba was under Israelite control until the end of the Omride dynasty (Lemaire). The Moabite stone shows a situation in which Moab did not yet possess territory that it later acquired. It shows that 2 Kings 3 contains a few historical kernels: (a) Moab's rebellion from Israel

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after Ahab's death, (b) the attempt of Joram (Ahab's son) to put down the rebellion with the aid of Judah, and (c) the failure of their joint venture (Na'aman). The archaeology indicates that in the later part of the ninth century Jezreel and Megiddo VA-FVB were destroyed, apparently by Hazael and the Aramaeans. Jezreel was abandoned as a military site, but Megiddo was rebuilt as a fortified military centre (stratum IVA).

6. Implications for Methodology It is always risky to try to summarize a discussion that often contains radically different points of view; nevertheless, the preponderance of movement was toward finding some reliable history in the data available from the Omri period. Archaeology and contemporary - or near contemporary - inscriptions were especially valuable, even if there was not always a consensus in how to interpret them. There was little interest in a purely minimalist viewpoint, and certainly none in taking the biblical text at face value. Yet with some notable exceptions, participants found the account in 1 and 2 Kings to have some historical value, if analysed critically. It is probably fair to say that the most uncontested data were those from archaeology - by which I mean that the excavation data were themselves accepted as reliable and usable. That was where we should begin. This point may not seem unexceptionable, but more lip service than real attention has been paid to archaeology in extant histories of Israel. The story in the biblical text has been the backbone of such histories, but this needs to change, especially for the early history of Israel. Yet it is also true that the archaeology data from this period (and especially the previous centuries) are interpreted in extremely different ways, even by professional archaeologists, and there seems little move to a consensus at the moment. My own conclusions from the studies in this and previous volumes of the ESHM are the following: 1. We should give priority to the primary sources, i.e., those sources closest to the events in question in space and time. This especially includes archaeology. The artifactual remains and material culture have to be interpreted, but they are generally evidence of actual living people and cannot be dismissed as invention. 2. Inscriptions are valuable but have to be evaluated critically; on the other hand, there is no simple test for authenticity or historicity. Literary genre, the presence of literary conventions and stereotypcial phrases, and other outward manifestations are insufficient. Ultimately, individual critical judgment has to be exercised. An inscription - even if contemporary - might have as many as three different sorts or reliability of data. Some have all three, some only two or even one sort. Judging which category a particular statement falls into is not always easy, but often the reader has a sense of one or the other. The reader must distinguish

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Ahab Agonistes a. Royal propaganda, often given in generalized and sweeping statements. b. References to or descriptions of specific actions, places, or persons likely to be known to the writer. c. Statements about matters where the writer is likely not to have had first-hand knowledge.

3. Traditional texts - meaning primarily the biblical text, in this case - are not always easy to deal with, but they must not be rejected a priori. Even late texts may have valuable information, information that may not be available through any other source. Thus, we cannot stop with accepting only what can be confirmed from other sources. It may well be that the late text is too problematic to use, but this has to be decided on a caseby-case basis. The biblical text is not all on one level of probability, and each individual text has to be critically analysed. 4. Finally, the historian has to weigh the probabilities. Reconstructing and writing history is not a mechanical act; it is an art as much as a science and requires judgment and imagination. Putting together sources of different natures, with questions of interpretation always present, makes the task difficult. But reconstructions of the end of the Omri dynasty and the beginning of the Jehu provide a good illustration of how the Tel Dan stela - with all its problems - and the biblical text - with all its problems - can be utilized in creating a reasonable scenario of what happened. But every reconstruction has to be argued for and tested, and some reconstructions are more likely than others. And no reconstruction is final: the quest to find a more convincing reconstruction is a perpetual one. Methodological principles are like the rules for weighing the originality of textual variants: they are only guidelines whose appropriateness must always be weighed, and on occasion they can even be mutually exclusive. None is absolute. It is always a matter of making critical judgments: although many things are not impossible, some things are more likely than others. It is preferable to focus on what is most probable, not defend something on the basis that it is not impossible. In many cases, we cannot demonstrate that a datum within a textual source is true, but this does not prevent our considering whether there are grounds for seeing it as more or less likely to be true. Many times in the history of ancient Israel, the nature of our data drives us to intelligent speculation or to even to withholding judgment altogether.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY Barkay, Gabriel 1992 'The Iron Age H-IIF, in Amnon Ben-Tor (ed.), The Archaeology of Ancient Israel (transl. R. Greenberg; New Haven, CT: Yale University Press) 302-73. Franklin, Norma 2004 'Samaria: from the Bedrock to the Omride Palace', Levant 36: 189-202. 2005 'Correlation and Chronology: Samaria and Megiddo Redux', in Thomas E. Levy and Thomas Higham (eds.), The Bible and Radiocarbon Dating: Archaeology, Text and Science (London: Equinox) 310-22. Forthcoming 'Jousting at Jezreel', in Lester L. Grabbe (ed.), Israel in Transition: From Late Bronze II to Iron IIA (c. 1250-850 BCE): The Archaeology (LHBOT ** = ESHM 7; London and New York: T&T Clark International, forthcoming 2007). Grabbe, Lester L. 1997 'Are Historians of Ancient Palestine Fellow Creatures - Or Different Animals?' in Lester L. Grabbe (ed.), Can a 'History of Israel' Be Written? (JSOTSup 245 = ESHM 1; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press) 19-36. 1998 '"The Exile" under the Theodolite: Historiography as Triangulation', in Lester L. Grabbe (ed.), Leading Captivity Captive: 'The Exile' as History and Ideology (JSOTSup 278 = ESHM 2; Sheffield : Sheffield Academic Press, 1998) 80-100. 2005 'The Kingdom of Judah from Sennacherib's Invasion to the Fall of Jerusalem: If We Had Only the Bible . . .', in Lester L. Grabbe (ed.), Good Kings and Bad Kings: The Kingdom of Judah in the Seventh Century BCE (JSOTSup 393 = ESHM 5: London and New York: T&T Clark International, 2005) 78-122. Grabbe, Lester L. (ed.) Forthcoming a Israel in Transition: From Late Bronze II to Iron IIA (c. 1250-850 BCE): The Archaeology (LHBOT ** = ESHM 7; London and New York: T&T Clark International, forthcoming 2007). Forthcoming b Israel in Transition: From Late Bronze II to Iron IIA (c. 1250-850 BCE): The Texts (LHBOT ** = ESHM 7; London and New York: T&T Clark International, forthcoming 2008). Liverani, Mario 2003 Oltre la Bibbia: Storia antica di Israele (Storia e Societa; Roma: Editori Laterza). 2005 Israel's History and the History of Israel (Bible World; trans. Chiara Peri and Philip R. Davies, London: Equinox).

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INDEX OF REFERENCES

BIBLE OLD TESTAMENT Genesis 1.28 239 9.2 275 12.17 285 14.1 277 14.21-24 275 15.2 274 17.17 283 18 287 20.17-18 285 20.18 276 22 287, 28 28.22 175 31.28 155 31.43 155 32.1 155 34.9 45 Exodus 3.11 272 12.29 288 14.6 115, 147 15 261 15.22-27 285 17.13 147 Leviticus 14.29-38 154 22.1 156 26.3 156 26.43 156 31.12 156 32.13 154 33.48-50 156 35.1 156 36.13 156 Numbers 14 276 21.13 167 21.21-35 167 21.21-25 168

21.23 147 21.24 167 21.26 167 22-4 12, 15, 168, 237 22.2-24.25 336 22.41 168, 173 23.7 114 23.14 168 23.28 168 32.3 153 32.34-38 154 32.34 153 33.45-46 153 Deuteronomy 2-3 167 2.24 167 2.26-37 6 2.36 167 3.8 167 3.12 167 4.48 167 7.3 45 9.8 152 13 284 14.1 284 20.1-2 147 20.9 147 32.49 168 34.1 156 34.8 156 Joshua 6-10 263 6.26 153 8.3 147 8.10 147 9.1-15 275 10.28-43 263, 266 12.1-6 167 12.1 167 12.2 167 13.8-32 167 13.9 167

13.15-20 154 13.16 167 13.17 173 13.23 154 13.24-27 154 13.32 156 Judges 3.12-30 12, 168 5.31 272 6-8 114 11.4 115 11.13 167 11.18 167 11.22 167 11.26 167 13.1 154 13.5-7 284 19.29 265 20.6 265 1 Samuel 1.11 284 2.4 275 3.10 285 7.8-14 273 8.12 275 11 265 15 260 15.1 117 18.21 45 18.22 45 18.23 45 18.26 45 18.27 45 23.10-12 263 24 281 24.12 119 26 281 28.6-7 263 30.1-25 274

344 2 Samuel

4.7 117 5.6-10 271 5.11-12 271 7.1-17 271 7.9 275 7.29 272 8.2 12, 168, 169 8.3 125 8.4 201 8.14 266 10.10 147 15 272 15.25-26 275 15.25 275 17.27-29 201 19.32-41 201 22 275 22.1 257, 263, 266, 275 22.7 275 23.5 275 24.1-9 169 24.1-9 169 24.5-6 173 24.5 169 1 Kings 1 222 1.1-4 276 1.1 84, 165 1.8 285 1.9-13 284 1.14 284 1.16 285 1.34 117 2.2 285 2.4 285 2.6 285 2.14 285 2.15-18 285 2.19-22 285 3.1 45 3.4-5 165 3.6-14 273 4-5 275 4.7-19 201 5.1 264 5.18-6.38 271 7.1-8 271 8.20 122 8.56 152 9.22 229 10.1 275

Index of References 10.24 275 12.19 284 12.25 185 14.14 117 14.17 185, 189 14.25-28 59 14.25-26 102 15 122 15.13 222 15.20 122 15.33 189 16 58 16.8-9 189 16.9-10 219 16.15-28 55 16.15-20 55 16.15 189 16.16-28 140 16.16 147 16.21-22 55, 147 16.23-28 63 16.23-24 55 16.23 84, 189 16.24 338 16.25-28 55 16.29-34 55 16.29-33 55, 210 16.29 84 16.30 212 16.31 121, 201, 210, 21 16.32 197, 200 16.34 55 17-19 55, 214, 229 17 58, 202 17.1-6 55 17.7-16 55 17.10-16 213 17.17-24 55 18-19 159, 228 18 13,210,229 18.1-46 55 18.3-4 214 18.4 223 18.12-14 214 18.13 223 18.18 211 18.19 212 -14, 218, 223

18.20 212, 213, 218 18.21-40 210 18.41-46 212, 213, 218 18.44 115 18.45 63 19 229

19.1-14 55 19.1-3 214 19.2 223 19.3 226 19.14-18 273,286 19.15-21 157, 159 19.15-18 55 19.16 219 19.17 128 19.19-21 55 20-2 85 20 10, 55, 89, 121 -4 129, 130, 162, 200 20.1-43 162 20.1-21 55 20.1 124 20.2 200 20.12 200 20.15 121 20.16 124 20.19 200 20.22-30 55 20.23 200 20.26-30 121 20.30-34 124 20.31-34 55 20.34 10, 121, 122, 129, 201 20.35 -43 55 20.43 200 21 13, 55, 85, 162, 225, 229, 293 21.1-20 212 21.1-16 55,212 21.1 63 21.3 226 21.7 225, 229 21.17-26 55 21.17-20 212 21.19 212 21.20-24 212 21.22 48 21.23-24 212 21.23 212 21.24 212 21.25-26 213 21.25 211 21.27-29 14, 56, 213 22 12, 56, 89, 122, 163 -5, 171, 236, 334 22.1-38 162 22.1-5 56 22.2 46

Index of References 22.3 124 22.4 81, 147, 163 22.5-7 163 22.6-28 56 22.7 163 22.29-38 56 22.31 124 22.39-40 56 22.39 298 22.40 122, 171 22.41-51 56 22.45 163, 201 22.47 159, 164 22.49-50 44, 201 22.50-52 44 22.52-54 56

2 Kings 1-3 287 1 56, 162, 288 1.1 82, 141, 155, 336 1.3 284 1.6 284 1.16 284 2 56 2.1-18 159 2.23-25 285 3 11, 12, 56, 123, 129, 145, 157, 158, 16 162-4, 236, 237, 2 277, 287, 333, 338 3.1-3 56 3.1 155, 164, 2 3.3 286 3.4-27 15, 123, 136, 16 284 3.4-9 56, 157 3.4-8 136, 286 3.4-6 158 3.4-5 82, 336 3.5 141, 155 3.6-27 141 3.6 158 3.7 147, 163 3.8 123, 159 3.9-20 56 3.9-17 157 3.9-12 287 3.9 159 3.10 160 3.11-12 163 3.11 159, 160, 163 3.12 159, 160

3.13-20 287 3.13 159, 160 3.14 160, 163 3.17 149 3.20 123, 160 3.21-27 56 3.22 160 3.24-27 278 3.25-27 142 3.26 161, 16 4-8 165 4.1-8.15 56 4.1-44 56 4.1-8 159 4.15 159 5 123, 12 5.1-27 56 6-7 123, 124, 1 6.1-7 56 6.8-23 56, 123, 157 6.23 123 6.24-7.20 56, 157, 162, 200 6.24-7.17 123 6.24 123 6.26 200 6.28-29 5 7.10 200 8.1-6 56 8.7-15 56, 111, 123, 12 129 8.7 121 8.8-15 119 8.8 119 8.15 119, 120 8.16-24 56 8.16-18 222 8.16 155, 164, 228 8.18 44, 50, 138, 228 8.20-22 159, 164, 1 8.21 147 8.25-29 56 8.26 44, 228 8.27 50, 138 8.28-29 4, 127, 158 8.28 111, 124, 125, 9 8.29 124, 125 9-10 13,56, 119, 12 127, 128, 219, 16 210, 212, 213, 22 221, 225, 228, 293 9 58, 126, 212, 229 9.1-14 56

345 9.1-13 126-9 9.1-6 211 9.2 219 9.7 138 9.8 138,212 9.9 138,212 9.10-22 211 9.10 212 9.11-13 127, 219 9.14-15 82, 127 9.14 124, 126, 129, 219, 220 9.15-29 56, 125, 129 9.15 125, 129, 220 9.16 125 9.17-20 219 9.21 115 9.22 211, 214, 220, 223 9.23-28 211 9.23 219 9.26 13, 211, 212, 219 9.30-37 56 9.30-35 211, 221 9.31 214, 219 9.32-33 219 9.36 212 9.37 213,217 10 210, 212, 265 10.1-11 57 10.1-9 219 10.2-9 211 10.2 197 10.5 201 10.6 201 10.9 126 10.10 212 10.12-15 285 10.12-14 57, 211 10.13 221, 224, 228 10.15-17 57 10.17 211,212 10.18-28 57 10.18-27 210,213 10.26-27 200 10.27 213 10.29-31 57 10.32-33 57, 85, 126, 128, 129, 140, 155, 156, 172, 265 10.32 265 10.33 172 10.34-36 57, 82 11-12 57

346 11 201, 222 11.1-21 57 12 58 12.1-17 57 12.18-19 57, 82, 85 12.20-22 57 13 85 13.1-9 57 13.1-2 57 13.3-6 85 13.3 57, 82, 121, 156 13.4-6 57 13.5 86 13.7 57, 137, 147, 28 13.8-9 57 13.10-25 57 13.10-13 57 13.12 163 13.14-24 155 13.14-21 157, 158 13.14-19 57 13.17 121, 122 13.20-21 57, 168 13.20 156 13.22-25 57, 82 13.22 136, 156 13.31 137 14.1-22 57 14.1-6 57 14.7 57, 165 14.8-14 57 14.15-16 57 14.15 163 14.17-20 57 14.19 67 14.21-22 57 14.21 6 14.23-29 57 14.28 163 15.1-7 58 15.1-6 6 15.8-12 58 15.13-15 58 15.14 202 15.16-22 58 15.23-26 58 15.27-31 58 15.29 86 15.30 87 15.32-38 58 16 58 16.1 -4 58 16.2-3 222

Index of References 16.5-9 58, 86 16.10-16 58 17-18 189 17 58, 190, 195 17.1-6 184 17.3-6 87, 196 17.3 195 17.4 192, 195 17.5-6 64 17.5 190, 192, 195 17.6 87, 190, 195 17.23-24 64 17.24 87, 195 18.9-12 184 18.9-11 196 18.9 190, 192, 195 18.10 190, 195, 282 18.11 195 18.12 195 18.13-14 282 20 161, 284 20.12-18 284 21.3 42 21.13 42, 50 21.21 212 21.22-23 212 22 161 22.35-38 41 24.12 222 24.15 222 1 Chronicles 4.22 45 5.17 44 5.21 286 7.24 47 18.4 201 21.1 46 2 Chronicles 10-36 41 11.4 41 11.5-12 5, 67 11.23 67 15.16 47, 222 16.1 44 16.3 44 17-20 236 17 45 17.3 46 18 45, 48, 50, 51, 56 18.1 -4 56 18.1 45

18.2 45, 46 18.3 44 18.4-5 46 18.4 44 18.5-27 56 18.5 44 18.6-8 46 18.7 44 18.8 44 18.9 44 18.17 44 18.18-22 47 18.19 44, 46 18.20-22 47 18.20 46 18.21 46 18.25 44 18.28-34 56 18.28 44 18.29 44 18.31 46 18.33 44 18.34-19.1 41 18.34 44 19.2 46, 49 20.31-21.3 56 20.35-37 44, 201 20.35 44 20.37 44 21.4-11 56 21.6 44, 45, 48, 49 21.12-15 47 21.13 44, 45, 48, 49 21.20-22.1 56 22.2-6 56 22.2 43, 44, 48, 229 22.3 45, 50 22.4-5 45 22.4 50 22.5-9 45 22.5 44, 124, 125 22.6-9 50 22.6 45 22.7-9 56, 125 22.7 44, 45 22.8 45 22.10-24.14 57 22.10-23.21 57 22.10-23.15 201 23.9-10 42 23.15 50 23.17 46 24.1-14 57

Index of References 24.5-16 57 24.7 47 24.17-24 57 24.25-28 57 25.1-26.2 57 25.1-4 57 25.17 44 25.18 44 25.21 44 25.23 44 25.25 44 26.1-2 57 26.3-23 58 27 58 28 58 28.1-4 58 28.2 44, 47, 48 28.5-19 58 28.5 44 28.20-27 58 28.20 86 32.11 46 32.15 46 Ezra 1.1 272 9.14 45 10.2-3 227 10.10-44 227 Nehemiah 13.23-27 227

Job 1.3 114 29 280 32.6-22 269 Psalms 1 50 1.3 274, 275 2 242, 284 2.1-2 262 2.8 275 2.10 286 9.6-8 259 9.20 259 18.1 266 18.6 275 18.31-48 264 22.3 283 22.26-27 283 79.5 152

82 284 85.6 152 89.28 275 89.53 283 110.1 268 115.3-8 271 132.1-5 271 135.15-21 271 139.21-22 46 151 23 Proverbs 1.8 276 2.16-19 227 5.1-14 227 6.20-35 227 7.1-27 227 Isaiah 1.1 277 6.5 272 7 86 7.4-6 201 7.14 262 9-11 284 9.5 275 9.6 284 11.1-9 275 13-23 25 15-16 176 15.1 161 15.2 147 16-17 156 16.7 161 16.11 161 26.1 199 36-8 262 36-7 259 36.4-10 275 37.3 276 37.36 275 38.8 282 40-66 7, 24 40.3-4 267 40.18-20 271 44.9-20 271 44.13 271 45.1-13 273 45.1 275 46.5-8 271

347

Jeremiah 4.3 185 4.4 185 4.5 185 4.15 185 7.34 185 9.11 185 10.1-15 271 11.2 185 11.6 185 11.9 185 11.11 185 11.13 185 13.9 185 17.25 185 17.26 185 18.11 185 19.3 185 25.2 185 25.8-31 272 25.11-12 261 25.11 272 29 47 29.1-14 262 29.2 222 29.10-14 272 29.10 261 30.18 199 31.12 267 46-51 25 46.4 115 48 156, 176 48.31 161 48.36 161 48.37 147 49.3 176 Ezekiel 4.6 154 25-32 25 29.11-13 154 40-8 274 47.1-12 274 Daniel 2.1 277 9.1-8 272 9.8-19 272 Hosea 6.2 115 9.13 192 13.3 110

348 Amos 1-2 7, 8, 22, 27, 28, 30 -7

Index of References Zechariah 14.5 67

1 7

1.1-2.3 25 1.1 67 1.3-5 26 1.3 27 1.4-5 26 1.4 8, 27, 28, 34 1.5 33 1.9-10 32 1.13 27 2.1-2 278 2.6-9.10 25 6.2 8, 25, 34, 35 7.10-17 187 9.7 26 Jonah 3.5 283 Micah 5.4 275 6.16 42

Wisdom of Solomon 13.10-19 271 15.7-13 271

PALESTINIAN TALMUD Sanhedrin X.2.28b 217 MIDRASH Genesis Rabba 64.8 217

NEW TESTAMENT Revelation 22.1-5 274 OTHER ANCIENT REFERENCES Sinhue 8.6-11 113 31.2 113 31.4 113 BABYLONIAN TALMUD Sanhedrin 39b 217 102ab 217

JOSEPHUS Antiquities of the Jews 8.13.2 71 8.317 226 8.324 226 8.347 226 8.355 226 9.122 226 9.138 226 Against Apion 1.155 226

INDEX OF AUTHORS Ackerman, S. 222 Aharoni, Y. 310, 314 Ahituv, S. 115 Ahlstrom, G.W. 148, 199, 208, 218, 221-3, 228, 241, 269, 278, 305 Albrektson, B. 242 Albright, W.F. 254 Alt, A. 209, 228, 293 Andreasen, N.-E. 222 Assmann, A. 215 Assmann, J. 215 Astour, M.C. 82 Athas, G. 72, 106, 107, 109-12, 114, 115, 254 Auffret, P. 150 Avigad, N. 188, 190, 191, 196, 201, 208, 217 Baltzer, K. 225 Barkay, G. 59, 70, 71, 311-13, 316, 332 Barre, M.L. 251 Barstad. H.M. 7, 22, 25, 26, 104 Barthelemy, D. 161 Bartlett, J.R. 157, 158, 160, 167 Baumgartner, W. 210, 211, 216, 217 Beal, R.H. 249 Beaulieu, P.-A. 24 Beck, M. 214, 225 Becking, B. 27, 87, 104-6, 126, 184, 189, 191-7, 200, 220, 265 Beeston, A.F.L. 148, 198, 199 Ben Zvi, E. 8, 41-3, 49, 50, 52, 172, 236-8, 334, 335, 337 Ben-Barak, Z. 224 Ben-David, C. 148 Bernhardt, K.H. 123, 157, 158, 173 Beyer, K. 104 Bienkowski, P. 27, 167 Biran, A. 72, 104-7, 109, 111, 112, 114-17, 119, 126, 138, 166, 220 Black, J. 192-4 Boaretto, E. 61, 62, 70 Boiy, T. 27 Bordreuil, P. 136, 141, 147, 149 Breasted, J. 243

Bright, J. 82, 85 Brockelmann, C. 114 Bruins, H.J. 62 Buccellati, G. 197 Bunimovitz, S. 198 Burns, J.B. 157 Cahill, J.M. 65, 66 Cancik, H. 242, 248 Carroll, R.P. 22, 23 Clermont-Ganneau, C. 135 Clermont-Ganneau, M. 146, 155 Clines, D.J.A. 217 Cogan, M. 87, 158, 159, 161, 172 Cohen, A. 185 Coldstream, N. 59 Cooke, G.A. 136, 146 -8 Coutourier, G. 105, 117 Cross, EM. 121 Crowfoot, G.M. 225, 298 Crowfoot, J.M. 190, 191, 196 Crowfoot, J.W. 225, 294-6, 298, 323 Cryer,F.H. 104-6, 118 Dagan, Y. 67 Daviau, P.M.M. 173 Davies, G.I. 302, 304 Davies, P.R. 104 Davis, J.D. 136, 150, 155 De Geus, C.H.J. 196, 223 De Moor, J.D. 150 De Odorico, M. 155 De Vaux, R. 161, 173, 224 Dearman, J.A. 85, 136, 146, 149, 155, 157,173,175 Degen,R. 113, 114 Del Olmo Lete, G. 217 Dietrich, M. 217, 250 Dietrich, W. 106, 116, 119, 220 Dion, P.-E. 26, 30, 32-5, 173 Dormer, H. 146, 155, 217, 221, 222, 226-8, 254, 257 Dornemann, R.H. 26, 167 Dossin, G. 245 Doussard, R. 254 Drinkard, J.F. 136, 149

350

Index of Authors

Droysen, T. 237 Durand, J.-M. 26 Dussaud, R. 136, 146 Easterly, E. 147 Edelman, D.V. 167 Ehrensvard, M.G. 23-5 Ehrlich, C.S. 35 Emerton, J.A. 136, 236, 237, 257 Eph'al, I. 76 Finkelstein, I. 59-65, 67-9, 167, 187, 188, 190, 196, 198, 199, 302 -5 Fisher, C.S. 294 Flesher, P.V.M. 320 Forsberg, S. 184, 188, 189, 191, 192, 195 Franklin, N. 63, 102, 190, 197, 295, 332, 338 Freedman, D.N. 162 Frick, F.S. 199 Fuchs, A. 184, 190, 192-4, 203 Gadd, C.J. 247, 283 Gaines, J.H. 208 Garbini, G. 136 George, A. 192 -4 Geraty, L.T. 176 Gesenius, W. 216, 217 Geva, H. 66 Ghul, M.A. 198, 199 Gibson, J.C.L. 138, 146, 147, 254 Gilboa, A. 61, 62, 70 Glueck, N. 173 Goldberg, J. 27 Gordon, C.H. 199 Grabbe, L.L. 3, 8, 14, 15, 54, 58, 75, 85, 89-91, 216, 227, 236-40, 273, 278, 279, 281, 331, 335, 337 Graham, M.P. 135, 146 Gray,J. 141, 161, 172 Grayson, A.K. 27-35, 74-7, 80, 82, 83, 192 Greenfield,J. 251 Gruben, G. 318 Gugler, W. 223 Hachmann, R. 171 Haeny, G. 319 Hallo, W.W. 240, 243, 244, 248-53, 256, 257, 265, 272, 279, 282, 283 Halpern, B. 104, 302, 303 Har-el, M. 302 Hayes, J.H. 184, 189, 191, 209

Heinhold-Krahmer, S. 249 Heinrich, E. 319 Helck, W. 171 Held, M. 217 Hermann, A. 242 Herzog, Z. 65, 68, 196, 199 Hjelm, I. 241, 259, 262, 263, 265, 266, 273, 279, 286 Hoffner, H. 249, 283 HoftijzerJ- 113 Holscher, G. 162 Horn, S.H. 136, 146 Hiibner, U. 167 Hulst, A.R. 199 Hurvitz, A. 23, 24 Iggers, G.G. 215 Ikeda, Y. 26, 33 Irvin, D. 241, 261 Ishida, T. 44 Jackson, K.P. 146, 147, 162 Jamieson-Drake, D.W. 65 Janzen, D. 227 Japhet, S. 41 Jones, B.C. 161, 162 Jongeling, K. 113 Jull, AJ.T. 61, 62, 70 Kalimi, I. 46 Kallai, Z. 136 Katzenstein, H.J. 225, 228 Kaufman, S.A. 112 Keel, O. 102, 227 Kelle, B.E. 30 Kenyon, K.M. 190, 191, 196, 225, 294 -6 Kiesow, A.C. 221, 224 Killebrew, A.E. 60, 66 Kinet, D. 209, 216 King, L. 244 Kittel, R. 159 Kloner, A. 148 Knauf, E.A. 9, 66, 100, 101, 104, 116, 119, 149, 154, 198, 199, 221, 335, 338 Knoppers, G.N. 44, 45, 49 Kochavi, M. 314 Kockert, M. 210, 218, 226 Koehler, L. 210, 211, 216, 217 Koselleck, R. 213, 215, 216 Kostof, S. 318 Kottsieper, I. 9, 104, 105, 108, 110, 111, 113, 116, 119, 120, 220, 333 Krauss, S. 161

Index of Authors Kuan, J.K. 74, 76-8, 81, 82, 85, 86, 184, 190-2, 195 Kiihne, H. 171 Kuhrt, A. 30 LaBianca, O.S. 167 Lamon, R.S. 302, 311 Lang, B. 225 Langdon, S. 152 Lederman, Z. 198 Lee, K.S. 216 Lehmann, G. 65, 198 Lemaire, A. 10, 11, 30, 74, 107, 115, 116, 118, 119, 125, 135, 136, 140, 141, 146-8, 155, 157, 166, 170, 220, 333, 338 Lemche, N.P. 83, 104, 209, 219, 237, 238, 256, 272, 273, 281 Lernau, O. 66 Levine, L. 321 Levy, J. 217 Lewis, B. 244 Lidzbarski, M. 146 Lipinski, E. 26, 30, 32, 33, 76, 82, 83, 85, 112, 114, 115, 117, 119, 186, 220, 227 Liver, J.L. 136, 138, 157, 159, 161 Liverani, M. 3, 171, 240-2, 331, 335 Liwak, R. 215, 227 Long, B.O. 157, 160 Longman, T. 241, 283 Loretz,J. 217 Loretz, O. 250 Luckenbill, D.D. 242, 245, 246 Lundquist, J.M. 327 Lyon, D.G. 294 Maag,V. 114 Macdonald, B. 167 Magen, Y. 198 Maier, C. 227 Malamat, A. 33, 245 Margalit, B. 114, 125, 149, 151 Mattingly, G.L. 147 Mayer, W. 30, 122 Mazar, A. 59, 60, 62, 65, 67-70, 199, 310 Mazar, E. 66 Mazzoni, S. 30 McCarter, P.K. 76 McKenzie, S.L. 162, 171 Millard, A. 26, 76 Miller J.M. 85, 135, 136, 149, 155, 158, 161, 162, 167, 171, 189, 209, 241

351

Miller, P.O. 149 Mittmann, S. 147, 154, 155, 168, 173 Molin, G. 221, 222 Montgomery, J.A. 159, 161, 172 Morgenstern, J. 293 Moscati, S. 251 Mowinckel, S. 241 Miiller, H.P. 114, 146, 150, 157, 227, 257 Muller, W.W. 198, 199 Muraoka, T. 116 Na'aman,N. 11, 28, 49, 52, 63, 81, 82, 101, 104, 110, 136, 147-9, 154, 156, 162, 164-6, 169-71, 175, 176, 184, 186, 190, 191, 196, 198, 219, 301, 304, 333, 334, 339 Naveh, J. 72, 76, 104-7, 109, 111, 112, 114-17, 119, 126, 138, 166, 220 Netzer, E. 67 Niccacci, A. 151 Niehr, H. 252 Nielsen, I. 316, 317, 320 Niemann, H.M. 12, 101, 184-7, 189, 197-203, 338 Noeldecke, T. 217 Norin, S.I.L. 116 Noth, M. 170, 219, 225 Oded, B. 25, 87, 152, 161 Ofer, A. 62, 64, 65 Olivier, H. 293 Olrik, A. 241 Olyan, S. 219 Otto, E. 241 Otto, S. 127, 128, 130, 157, 158, 162, 171, 199, 214, 224, 225, 228 Otzen, B. 251 Page, S. 76 Panitz-Cohen, N. 62 Parker, S.B. 138, 250 Parpola, S. 46 Paul, Sh.M. 34 Payne Smith, R. 110 Peckham, B. 227 Pederson, J. 221 Pedrette, P.H. 174 Petzold, H. 147 Pevsner, N. 316-18 Piasetzsky, E. 62 Pitard, W.T. 30, 32, 33, 73, 76, 85, 120 -2 Postgate, N. 192-4

352

Index of Authors

Pritchard, J.B. 243, 244, 246-8, 256, 269, 272, 276, 279, 283 Propp, V. 241, 243 Pruin,D. 13, 209, 211, 212, 218, 220, 334, 335, 338 Puech,E. 73, 76, 112, 114 Pury, A. de 104 Rainey, A.F. 105, 137, 140, 147-9, 151 al-Rawi, F.N.H. 152 Redford, D.B. 171 Reed, W.L. 162, 257 Reich, R. 66 Reinhold, G.G.G. 30, 32, 121 Reisner, G.A. 294 Rendsburg, G. 136 Reviv, H. 138 Rofe, A. 157, 162 Rollig, W. 116, 146, 155, 217, 227, 247 254, 257 Romer, T. 104 Routledge, B. 146, 175 Rudolph, W. 161 Runesson, A. 320 Riisen, J. 215 Riitersworden, U. 201 Ryckmans, J. 198, 199 Sader, H.S. 29, 30, 32, 33 Saggs, H.W.F. 242 Sammartin, J. 217 Sanda, A. 161, 172 Sass, B. 201 Sasson, J.M. 241, 243, 250, 256 Sasson,V. 118, 119 Schade, A. 147 Schipper, B.U. 101, 102 Schmidt, J. 321 Schmitt, H.C. 122, 124, 157, 162 Schneider, T.J. 28 Schniedewind, W.M. 111, 112, 116 -18, 125,166, 220 Schorch, S. 218 Schorn, U. 154 Schottroff, W. 149 Schumacher, G. 302 Schweizer, H. 157, 163 Sharon, I. 61, 62, 70 Shipton, G.M. 302, 311 Shortland, A.J. 59 Shukron, E. 66 Singer-Avitz, L. 65, 68 Skehan, P.W. 169

Smelik, K.A.D. 136, 149-51, 157, 161, 162, 173, 208, 254, 266 Smend, R. 146 Smith, C. 241 Smith, S. 250 Smith-Christopher, D.L. 227 Socin, A. 146 Soggin,J.A. 209,216 Sokoloff,M. 110 Spieckermann, H. 213 Stade, B. 172 Stager, L.E. 188, 294 Steck, O.H. 221, 223, 228 Steiner, M. 65, 66, 173 Stern, E. 71, 311, 313, 314, 320, 321, 323 Stern, P.D. 141, 157 Steuernagel, C. 171 Stipp, H.-J. 157, 162, 163 Sukenik, E.L. 190, 191, 196, 294 -6 Tadmor, H. 27, 32-4, 76, 78-80, 82, 86, 87, 158, 159, 161, 172, 298 Tappy, R.E. 63, 87, 184-6,188-93, 196-8, 200, 202, 203, 294, 295 Thiel, W. 216 Thomas, D.W. 81 Thompson, S. 241 Thompson, T.L. 10, 14, 83, 104, 136, 228, 236, 237, 239 -41, 243, 244, 251, 257, 259-61, 263, 266-9, 272 -4, 276, 277, 279-81, 283, 284, 286, 287, 333-6 Tidwell, N.L. 148 Timm, S. 122, 123, 136, 138, 157, 167, 190, 191, 197, 200, 216, 221, 223, 226-8, 257 Trible, P. 216 Tronier, H. 280 Tropper, J. 111, 112, 118,129,147,151, 216, 250, 252, 253 Tushingham, A.D. 174 Uehlinger, Ch. 102, 189, 190, 197, 199, 200, 217, 227 Ullendorf, E. 254 Ulrich, E. 24 Urman, D. 320 Ussishkin, D. 15, 59, 60, 63, 65, 67-70, 298, 301-4, 331, 332, 338 VanSetersJ. 171, 242 Van Zyl, A.H. 136, 161

Index of Authors Van der Plicht, J. 62 Vyhmeister, W. 176 Wallis, G. 136, 138, 155, 273 Warburton, D.A. 15, 323, 331 Watanabe, K. 46 Wehi, H. 217 Weippert, H. 190, 191, 212, 223, 227, 310 Weippert, M. 31, 33, 76, 161 -3 Weissbach, F.H. 246 Weitzman, S. 24 Welten, P. 225 Wesselius, J.-W. 105, 111, 112, 115, 119, 220 White, M.C. 221 Wightman, G.J. 304 Wilkinson, J. 320-2 Wilson, J.A. 243 Winckler, H. 138

353

Winnett, F.V. 162, 257 Wiseman, D.J. 245 Woodhead, J. 63, 298, 301, 304 Worschech, U. 149, 167 Wiirthwein, E. 123, 125, 127, 157, 158, 162, 171, 172 Wiist, M. 154 Wyatt, N. 241 Yadin, Y. 293, 302-4, 314 Yamada, S. 74, 119, 125 Yeivin, S. 305 Younger, K.L. 27, 184, 186, 190, 192, 251-3 Younker, R.W. 167 Zarzeki-Peleg, A. 63 Zertal, A. 64, 198 Zimhoni, O. 63, 67, 304