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Journal for the Study of Judaism 40 (2009) 465-492

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PsSal 17, die Hasmonäer und der Herodompeius* Benedikt Eckhardt Westfälische Wilhelms-Universität Münster, Exzellenzcluster “Religion und Politik,” Domplatz 20-22, 48143 Münster, Germany [email protected]

Abstract The Psalms of Solomon are an important source for reconstructing Jewish attitudes towards the major political shift that occurred in 63 BCE. The end of the Hasmonean dynasty and the beginning of Roman rule are often said to have pleased at least some contemporary Jewish groups because they perceived the Hasmoneans as illegitimate rulers. The analysis seeks to show that the only contemporary evidence for this view is PsSol 17:1-10, and that this part of the PsSol does not speak of Pompey, but of Herod the Great. Some attitudes towards the Hasmonean dynasty assumed to be contemporary by scholars have to be seen against the background of the Herodian, not the Hasmonean period. Keywords Herod the Great, Pompey, Hasmonean dynasty, Davidic messianism, Idumeans

Fragt man, wie die Eroberung Jerusalems durch Pompeius und die römischen Truppen im Jahre 63 v. Chr., die das Ende der Freiheit Judäas und den Beginn der (zunächst indirekt ausgeübten) römischen Herrschaft bedeutete, von den zeitgenössischen Juden wahrgenommen wurde, findet man häufig etwa folgende Antwort: Ein nicht unwesentlicher Teil von ihnen, der vornehmlich aus den Frommen des Landes (in der älteren Forschung: den Pharisäern) bestanden habe, sei über die Eroberung nicht *) Für sehr hilfreiche Fundamentalkritik und Anregungen danke ich Herrn PD Dr. Johannes Schnocks (Münster), für Inspiration, Anregungen und Kritik besonders in philologischen Fragen Herrn Dr. Claus-Peter Vetten (Bochum), der mich vor manchem Fehler bewahrt hat. Selbstredend liegt die Verantwortung für Inhalte und verbliebene Fehler bei mir. © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2009

DOI: 10.1163/157006309X443486

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eben unglücklich gewesen, da mit ihr die Absetzung der Hasmonäerdynastie einherging, die Judäa seit dem erfolgreichen Widerstand gegen die seleukidischen Maßnahmen unter Antiochos IV. regiert hatte. Durch die Hellenisierung des Hasmonäerstaates, die brutale Herrschaftsausübung des Alexander Jannaeus und schließlich den Thronstreit, der die Söhne seiner Witwe, Aristobulos II. und Hyrkanos II., bis zum Bürgerkrieg und letztlich auch Pompeius nach Judäa führte, habe die hasmonäische Dynastie jeglichen Kredit verspielt. Hinzu sei gekommen, dass die Hasmonäer von je her aufgrund ihrer nichtdavidischen Herkunft als illegitime Herrscher begriffen worden seien; die Erwartung eines davidischen Messiaskönigs habe den Machtanspruch der Hasmonäer ebenso als Usurpation erscheinen lassen wie die unrechtmäßige Verbindung von Königtum und Hohepriesterwürde. Angesichts solcher Stimmungen im Lande habe man die Eroberung durch Pompeius als gerechtes Gottesurteil deuten, wenn nicht gar freudig begrüßen können.1 Eine solche Ansicht findet in Teilen Bestätigung bei Flavius Josephus. Der jüdische Historiker nennt zwar weder David noch den Messias, weist aber ausdrücklich darauf hin, dass die Hasmonäer Hyrkanos und Aristobulos mit ihrem Bruderzwist die Freiheit Judäas verspielt hätten.2 Zudem berichten Diodor und Josephus weitgehend übereinstimmend von einer jüdischen Gesandtschaft, die im Zuge des Thronstreits vor Pompeius interveniert und die Absetzung der Hasmonäer zugunsten einer priesterlichen Regierung gefordert habe.3 Doch diese Quellen sind nicht zeitgenössisch, sondern Darstellungen von Geschichte, die deren Deutung in der 1) Vgl. nur Julius Wellhausen, Die Pharisäer und die Sadducäer. Eine Untersuchung zur inneren jüdischen Geschichte [1874] (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 31967), 114-16; H. J. Schoeps, “Die Opposition gegen die Hasmonäer,” TLZ 81 (1956): 663-70, hier 668 (“weit verbreitet,” belegt mit PsSal 17); Abraham Schalit, König Herodes. Der Mann und sein Werk [1969] (Berlin: de Gruyter, 22001), 471; 539-41 (belegt mit den PsSal); Emil Schürer, The History of the Jewish People in the Age of Jesus Christ (175 B.C.A.D. 135) (ed. Geza Vermes, Fergus Millar, und Martin Goodman; 3 vols.; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1973-87), 3:193-95 (“traditional piety,” belegt mit PsSal 2, 8 und 17); John J. Collins, The Scepter and the Star. The Messiahs of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Other Ancient Literature (ABRL; New York: Doubleday 1995), 49-56 (zu PsSal); so wie die im weiteren Verlauf angeführten Untersuchungen zu PsSal. 2) Josephus, A.J. 14.77. 3) Diodor, Bibl. Hist. 40.2; Josephus, A.J. 14.41. Die Argumentation ist ahistorisch, denn Hyrkan und Aristobulos konnte man sicher manches vorwerfen, jedoch schwerlich die Errichtung eines Königtums in Judäa (dass sie nämlich [A.J.] εἰς ἄλλην μετάγειν ἀρχὴν τὸ ἔθνος ζητῆσαι): Diesen Schritt hatte Aristobulos I. (104 v. Chr.) zu verantworten.

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Retrospektive vornehmen. Zur Rekonstruktion der Geistesgeschichte Judäas im 2. und 1. Jahrhundert v. Chr. taugen sie wenig. Entsprechend sind es nicht diese Texte, auf denen die beschriebenen Thesen letztlich fußen, sondern eine Reihe von Gedichten, die als “Psalmen Salomos” überliefert sind und deutliche Anspielungen auf die Eroberung Jerusalems enthalten. PsSal 2, 8 und 17 sind—in Verbindung mit Qumranschriften, die kaum datierbar sind—die Kronzeugen für die zeitgenössische Wahrnehmung der Politik des 1. Jahrhunderts v. Chr.4 Doch auch dieser Befund erfordert noch eine Einschränkung. Liest man die PsSal mit Blick auf die aufgeworfenen Fragen, muss auffallen, dass PsSal 2 und 8 zwar überdeutlich auf die Ereignisse um Pompeius Bezug nehmen, jedoch kaum als Belege für die skizzierten Thesen dienen können. Vielmehr beruhen alle genannten Argumente letztlich auf PsSal 17, genauer: Auf den Versen 1-10 des Psalms. Hier erscheinen in der Tat jüdische Sünder als Usurpatoren des davidischen Throns, hier scheint auch die Verbindung von Hohepriesterund Königtum als Sünde gewertet zu werden, hier werden diese Sünder von einem “Mann, der unserem Geschlecht fremd ist,” vernichtet, der von Gott gesandt worden ist, um ihre Sünden zu bestrafen. Angesichts dieser einerseits klaren, andererseits auf einen einzigen Text beschränkten Evidenz ist es verwunderlich, dass eine Diskussion weitgehend aufgegeben worden ist, die geeignet scheint, die genannten Zusammenhänge in einem anderen Licht erscheinen zu lassen: Kaum jemand diskutiert noch die Frage, ob der in V. 7 erwähnte ἄνθρωπος ἀλλότριος γένους ἡμῶν, der die Hasmonäer absetzt, tatsächlich mit Pompeius zu identifizieren ist. Bedenkt man, dass alle oben genannten Hypothesen sich auf genau den Teil (V. 1-10) von PsSal 17 stützen, in dem die so bezeichnete Figur eine Hauptrolle einnimmt, dass sie ferner nur funktionieren, wenn diese Figur mit Pompeius identifiziert wird—dann sollte ein neuer Vorschlag zur Lösung des Problems seine Berechtigung haben. Die Ansicht, es handle sich bei der in V. 7 erwähnten Gestalt nicht um Pompeius, sondern um Herodes den Großen, ist alt und immer wieder

4)

Das führte dann zu einer teilweise zirkulären Beschreibung sowohl der PsSal als auch der antihasmonäischen Opposition als pharisäisch. Vgl. für die Pharisäerthese ausführlich Joachim Schüpphaus, Die Psalmen Salomos. Ein Zeugnis Jerusalemer Theologie und Frömmigkeit in der Mitte des vorchristlichen Jahrhunderts (ALGHJ 7; Leiden: Brill, 1977), 127-37; gegen diese Ansicht etwa Kenneth Atkinson, I Cried to the Lord. A Study of the Psalms of Solomon’s Historical Background and Social Setting (JSJSup 84; Leiden: Brill, 2004), der eine unbekannte jüdische Sekte hinter den PsSal vermutet.

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vertreten, jedoch nicht hinreichend begründet worden.5 Insbesondere das Verhältnis, in dem diese Interpretation zum meist unbestrittenen Pompeiusbezug in 17:12 steht, blieb stets unklar. Dies und die Tatsache, dass relativ vage inhaltliche Anhaltspunkte die einzige Grundlage der abweichenden Deutung geblieben sind, erklärt ihre gegenüber der PompeiusDeutung nur marginale Verbreitung.6 Lediglich in der Herodesforschung, die begreiflicherweise an einem von Josephus unabhängigen Hinweis auf die zeitgenössische Bewertung herodianischer Herrschaft interessiert ist, findet sich gelegentlich eine gewisse Sicherheit, in PsSal 17 einen solchen Hinweis in der Hand zu haben,7 wobei aber auf eine Auseinandersetzung mit der communis opinio verzichtet wird. Es kann angesichts dessen nicht 5)

Für Herodes plädierten F. K. Movers, “Apokryphen-Literatur,” in Kirchen-Lexikon oder Encyklopädie der katholischen Theologie und ihrer Hilfswissenschaften (ed. H. J. Wetzer und B. Welter; Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1847), 1:334-55, hier 340-41; Franz Delitzsch, Commentar über den Psalter (Leipzig: Dörffling und Franke, 1860), 2:381; Otto Eissfeldt, Einleitung in das Alte Testament (Tübingen: Mohr, 31964), 829-30; André Caquot, “Les Hasmonéens, les Romains et Hérode: Observations sur PSal. 17,” in Hellenica et Judaica. Hommage à Valentin Nikiprowetzky (ed. André Caquot, Mireille Hadas-Lebel, und Jean Riaud; Leuven, Paris: Peeters, 1986), 213-18; Ernest-Marie Laperrousaz, “Hérode le Grand est-il ‘l’ennemi (qui) a agi en étranger’, des Psaumes de Salomon?” in Politique et religion dans le judaïsme ancien et médiéval (ed. Daniel Tollet; Paris: Desclée, 1989), 29-32; Kenneth Atkinson, “Herod the Great, Sosius, and the Siege of Jerusalem (37 B.C.E.) in Psalm of Solomon 17,” NovT 38 (1996): 313-22; Ders., “On the Herodian Origin of Militant Davidic Messianism at Qumran: New light from Psalm of Solomon 17,” JBL 118 (1999): 435-60 [aber vgl. jetzt Anm. 6]; Rodney A. Werline, “The Psalms of Solomon and the Ideology of Rule,” in Conflicted Boundaries in Wisdom and Apocalypticism (ed. Benjamin G. Wright III und Lawrence M. Wills; SBLSymS 35; Atlanta: SBL, 2005), 69-87, hier 71. An Antipater, den Vater des Herodes, dachte Adolf Hilgenfeld, “Die Psalmen Salomo’s und die Himmelfahrt des Moses, griechisch hergestellt und erklärt,” ZWT 11 (1868): 133-68, hier 166 ad loc. 6) Für gewöhnlich wird heute eine Diskussion des Problems gar nicht mehr für nötig gehalten. Vgl. nur die Bemerkungen bei Svend Holm-Nielsen, Die Psalmen Salomos (JSHRZ IV.2; Gütersloh: Mohn, 1977), 51; 58 Anm. 28; 99 ad loc.; ferner die Nichtnennung der Herodes-Deutung bei Atkinson, I Cried to the Lord, 134-44. Ausdruck dieser Mehrheitsmeinung ist das wiederholte “of course Pompey” bei Mikael Winninge, Sinners and the Righteous. A Comparative Study of the Psalms of Solomon and Paul’s Letters (ConBNT 26; Stockholm: Almqvist and Wiksell, 1995), 100; 101 Anm. 437. 7) Vgl. Nikos Kokkinos, The Herodian Dynasty. Origins, Role in Society and Eclipse (JSPSup 30; Sheffield: Sheffield Academical Press, 1998), 96 Anm. 41; 347 (“almost certainly referring to Herod”); Julia Wilker, “Herodes Iudaicus. Herodes als ‘jüdischer König’,” in Herodes und Rom (ed. Linda-Marie Günther; Stuttgart: Steiner, 2007), 27-45, hier 34 (“sollte sich PsSal 17 denn, wie anzunehmen, tatsächlich auf ihn beziehen”).

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verwundern, dass andere Herodesinteressierte die Suche aufgegeben haben: “Maybe Herod, maybe not,” hat Daniel Schwartz zuletzt resümiert.8 Im Folgenden soll gezeigt werden, dass es durchaus gute Gründe gibt, den ἄνθρωπος ἀλλότριος als Herodes zu deuten—und dass diese Deutung einige Implikationen nicht nur für die Herodesforschung, sondern auch für die literarkritische Erfassung der PsSal und die historische Interpretation der Opposition gegen die Hasmonäer hat. Zuvor ist es jedoch unerlässlich, kurz die Textgrundlage des Folgenden zu begründen.

Zur Textgrundlage Dass die PsSal ursprünglich hebräisch verfasst wurden, ist allgemein anerkannt; überliefert sind sie jedoch in griechischer und syrischer Übersetzung. Für gewöhnlich wird angenommen, dass die syrische Fassung kein unabhängiger Textzeuge, sondern Übersetzung der griechischen sei. Dagegen hat Joseph Trafton in seiner ausführlichen Untersuchung die bereits von Kuhn vertretene These erneuert, die syrische Fassung greife direkt auf das hebräische Original zurück.9 Trafton hat dafür viel Lob, jedoch wenig Zustimmung gefunden, und in der Tat ist eine endgültige Sicherheit wohl kaum zu erlangen. Die Fälle, in denen syr mehr Sinn ergibt als gr (das einzige Kriterium, auf das sich Trafton letztlich berufen kann), lassen sich auch als Hinweis darauf verstehen, dass syr den unverständlichen griechischen Text glättet.10 Schwierig bleibt die Frage jedoch allemal. Die Priorität

8)

Daniel R. Schwartz, “Herod in Ancient Jewish Literature,” in The World of the Herods (ed. Nikos Kokkinos; Oriens et Occidens 14; Stuttgart: Steiner, 2007), 45-53, hier 45. 9) Karl Georg Kuhn, Die älteste Textgestalt der Psalmen Salomos. Insbesondere auf Grund der syrischen Übersetzung neu untersucht (BWANT 73; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1937); Joseph L. Trafton, The Syriac Version of the Psalms of Solomon. A Critical Evaluation (SBLSCS 11; Atlanta: Atlanta Scholars Press, 1985). Nicht zugänglich war mir G. Ward, A Philological Analysis of the Greek and Syriac Texts of the Psalms of Solomon (Philadelphia: Temple University Dissertation, 1996). Die Dissertation wird zitiert bei Robert B. Wright, The Psalms of Solomon. A Critical Edition of the Greek Text (Jewish and Christian Texts in Contexts and Related Studies 1; New York: T&T Clark, 2007), 13, wonach sie “strongly suggests that the Syriac is indeed a direct translation from an early Hebrew text, perhaps with some reference to the Greek.” 10) Vgl. die Rezension von Robert B. Wright, JBL 107 (1988): 131-34, hier 132-33. Eine Auflistung der Unterschiede im für uns relevanten Psalm 17 bei Trafton, The Syriac Version, 160-83.

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des griechischen Textes erscheint nicht gesichert angesichts einer syrischen Version, die mal genial verbessert, mal sklavisch an der vermeintlichen Vorlage hängt und ihre Fehler reproduziert, gelegentlich aber auch den griechischen Text verschlechtert. Ohne entscheiden zu können, ob dem syrischen Text eine hebräische oder eine griechische Vorlage zugrunde liegt, ist daher als Argumentationsgrundlage für das Folgende festzuhalten: Diese syrische Version übersetzt nicht diese griechische. Die syrische Überlieferung wird daher in die Analyse einbezogen; wo keine signifikanten Unterschiede bestehen, wird die griechische Version zitiert.11

PsSal 17,1-2012 (1) Herr, du selbst bist unser König für immer und ewig, Weil sich in dir, Gott, unsere Seele rühmen wird. (2) Und was ist die Lebenszeit eines Menschen auf der Erde? Gemäß seiner Zeit [ist] auch seine Hoffnung auf ihn. (3) Wir aber werden hoffen auf Gott, unseren Retter: Weil die Macht unseres Gottes für immer mit Barmherzigkeit besteht, Und die Königsherrschaft unseres Gottes für immer gegen die Völker [steht] mit Gericht. (4) Du, Herr, hast David als König über Israel auserwählt, Und du hast ihm hinsichtlich seines Samens für immer versprochen, dass nicht schwinde vor dir seine Königswürde.

11) Der syrische Text folgt W. Baars, Psalms of Solomon (OTSy, Part IV, fasc. 6; Leiden: Brill 1972, 1-27), der griechische Wright, The Psalms of Solomon. Die syrische Ausgabe hat—wie die älteren griechischen—in PsSal 17 eine andere Verszählung und ist im für uns relevanten Teil ab V. 4 (gr.) einen, ab V. 7b zwei Verse voraus. 12) Meine Übersetzung; sie ist bewusst wörtlich gehalten, auch da, wo der Text im Original kaum zu verstehen ist. Die textkritischen Anmerkungen beschränken sich auf für die folgende Analyse relevante Verse. Für umfangreichere Anmerkungen vgl. etwa HolmNielsen, Die Psalmen Salomos. Neue englische Übersetzungen sind Wright, The Psalms of Solomon (teilweise sehr frei, V. 17:5c fehlt) und Kenneth Atkinson in A New English Translation of the Septuagint and the Other Greek Translations Traditionally Included Under That Title (ed. Albert Pietersma und Benjamin G. Wright; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007).

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(5) Und in unseren Sünden erhoben sich die Sünder wider uns: Sie griffen uns an und stießen uns13 hinaus, [sie], denen du nicht verheißen hast,14 Mit Gewalt nahmen sie es für sich weg und priesen nicht deinen geehrten Namen in Lobpreis.15 (6) Sie setzten ein Königtum an die Stelle ihrer Höhe,16 Sie verwüsteten den Thron Davids im Hochmut des Wechsels. (7) Und du, Gott, wirst sie stürzen17 und ihren Samen von der Erde nehmen, 13) Entweder—mit gr—bezieht sich diese Vertreibung auf die Gruppe, oder—mit syr— auf den Sprecher, der hier dann erstmals aufträte. Dieser Sprecher könnte Salomo selbst, mithin ein davidischer König sein; da jedoch bisher zur Bezeichnung der ersten Person nur der Plural gebraucht wurde und dies auch im Verlauf des Gedichts so bleibt, ist gr wohl vorzuziehen. 14) Οἷς οὐκ ἐπηγγείλω; wenn der Gegensatz zu 4 betont werden soll, ist die Übersetzung mit “verheißen, versprechen” wohl dem syrischen (“befehlen”) vorzuziehen. 15) So mit syr (‫ܼ ̈ ܐ‬ ‫ )ܘ‬gegen die Praxis sämtlicher griechischer Textausgaben, ἐν δόξῃ in den nächsten Vers zu ziehen und also zu formulieren: ἐν δόξῃ ἔθεντο βασίλειον αντὶ ὕψους αὐτῶν. ἐν δόξῃ ist eine (freilich im Numerus abweichende) Entsprechung zu ‫ܼ ̈ ܐ‬ , letzteres aber in den nächsten Vers zu ziehen verbietet sich schon aufgrund der idiomatischen syrischen Wendung, ferner wegen des anschließenden waws: ‫ܡܠ ܬܐ ܼ ܪܘ ܘܢ‬ ܼ ‫ܘ‬. Man umgeht so auch das Problem, die zu 6a gezogene δόξα als “Hochmut” o.ä. deuten zu müssen, obwohl in 5c die gleiche Wurzel (ἐδόξασαν) in der herkömmlichen Bedeutung “preisen” verwendet wird. Bereits Kuhn, Die älteste Textgestalt, 57 wollte so interpungieren. 16) Der Text ist an dieser Stelle schwer zu verstehen. Deutet man ihn dahingehend, dass eine ursprünglich hohe Stellung durch die Annahme der Königswürde, die dann das nicht Versprochene aus V. 5 wäre, korrumpiert wurde, kann man V. 6b als Stütze heranziehen: Die Sünder haben den Thron Davids verwüstet “im Hochmut des Wechsels”—sowohl der Thron Davids, dem die Königswürde ja eigentlich versprochen ist, als auch der “Wechsel” lassen sich bei entsprechender Deutung von 6a verstehen, Emendationen sind dann unnötig. Die vorgeschlagenen Lösungen für 6a sind zusammengefasst bei Schüpphaus, Die Psalmen Salomos, 67 Anm. 300. In der New English Translation of the Septuagint übersetzt K. Atkinson neuerdings: “They set up in glory a palace corresponding to their loftiness”; bei Wright, The Psalms of Solomon, lautet der Vers: “In their pride they flamboyantly set up their own royal house.” 17) Es besteht kein Grund, das Futur hier und in den nächsten beiden Versen als Übersetzungsfehler zu begreifen, da es durch syr bestätigt wird. Die gewöhnliche Erklärung unmotivierter gr. Futurformen als Fehlübersetzungen hebr. Narrative hat zwar manches für sich. Ein Vergleich mit dem syrischen Text zeigt etwa für PsSal 17, dass etwa das Futur ἐλπιοῦμεν in V. 3 nicht nur inhaltlich fragwürdig, sondern auch durch die Parallelüberlieferung nicht gedeckt ist: Dort steht mit ‫ܕ‬ ein präsentisch aufzufassendes Partizip. Angesichts dessen verdienen die Verbformen der Verse 7-9a einige Beachtung: Hier haben der griechische und der syrische Text das Futur, es ist also ernst zu nehmen. Der Wechsel in den Aorist in 9b hat zudem bei Johannes Tromp, “The Sinners and the

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(8) (9) (10) (11) (12)

(13) (14) (15)

(16)

(17)

Wenn sich gegen sie ein Mann erheben wird,18 der unserem Geschlecht fremd ist. Gemäß ihren Sünden wirst du ihnen vergelten, Gott, Damit sie finden gemäß ihren Werken. Gott wird sich ihrer nicht erbarmen, Er hat ihren Samen ausgeforscht und nicht einen von ihnen fortgelassen. Treu ist der Herr in all seinen Urteilen, durch die er gegenüber der Erde handelt. Der Gesetzlose hat unser Land derer beraubt, die darin wohnten, Sie schafften den Jungen und den Alten und ihre Kinder zugleich weg: Im Zorn seiner Schönheit19 schickte er sie weg bis in den Westen Und die Herrscher des Landes in die Verspottung, und er schonte sie nicht. In Fremdheit handelte der Feind hochmütig, Und sein Herz war fremd von unserem Gott. Und alles, was [er in?] Jerusalem tat,20 War so, wie [es] auch die Völker in ihren Städten für ihre Götter [tun]. Und die Söhne des Bundes inmitten der vermischten Völker obsiegten über sie, Unter ihnen war keiner, der in Jerusalem Barmherzigkeit und Wahrheit walten ließ. Diejenigen, die die Versammlungen der Frommen liebten, flohen vor ihnen, Wie Spätzchen flogen sie heraus aus ihrem Nest. Sie irrten umher in den Ödnissen, um ihre Seelen zu retten vor dem Bösen, Und die vor ihnen gerettete Seele war kostbar in den Augen der Fremdlingschaft.

Lawless in Psalm of Solomon 17,” NovT 35 (1993): 344-61, hier 347-50 eine plausible Erklärung gefunden: Gott hat die Sünder erst ausfindig gemacht und wird sie nun bestrafen. 18) Gr hat eine hebraisierende Infinitivkonstruktion ἐν ἐπαναστῆναι, vgl. zur temporalen Übersetzung Trafton, The Syriac Version, 23. Syr hat hier mit PK. “Gegen sie” wird durch syr (‫ܘܢ‬ ) besser gestützt als durch gr (αὐτοῖς). 19) Ἐν ὀργῇ κάλλους αὐτοῦ; syr hat die umgekehrte Folge ‫ܕܪܘ ܗ‬ , was auch nicht sinnvoller ist. Wright, The Psalms of Solomon, macht Gott zum Subjekt, der “in his magnificent wrath” die Einwohner in den Westen geschickt habe. 20) In gr ist der ἄνομος Subjekt, während die syrische Version dieses Handeln nach dem Vorbild der Völker Jerusalem selbst zuschreibt (‫ܬ‬ ) und den Gesetzlosen gar nicht erwähnt. Die in den Kommentaren verbreitete Auffassung, syr habe ἐποίησεν ἐν durch Haplographie verschlechtert, kann nicht zufrieden stellen: Genauso gut könnte man Dittographie durch gr annehmen.

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(18) Ihre Zerstreuung durch die Gesetzlosen geschah in die ganze Erde, Weil [?] der Himmel den Regen davon abhielt, auf die Erde zu fallen. (19) Ewige Quellen wurden zurückgehalten, aus Abgründen [und] von hohen Bergen her, Weil es unter ihnen niemanden gab, der Gerechtigkeit und Urteil walten ließ. (20) Von ihrem Herrscher und [bis zum] kleinsten [aus dem] Volk [waren sie] in jeder Sünde, Der König war in Gesetzlosigkeit, der Richter in Ungehorsam, und das Volk in Sünde. (21) [. . .]21

Der Psalm beginnt mit der Anrufung Gottes als König. Seine Macht und Königsherrschaft (βασίλεια) sollen auf ewig Bestand haben, ausdrücklich auch den “Völkern” (ἔθνη) gegenüber (V. 3). Der Davidsbund, der als ebenso ewig betrachtet wird wie die Macht Gottes,22 wird in V. 4 beschworen. Von hier aus richtet der Psalm die Aufmerksamkeit auf konkrete historische Geschehnisse. “Sünder” haben sich erhoben und mit Gewalt für sich genommen, was ihnen nicht zusteht; im Kontext kann nur die Königswürde gemeint sein, was auch 6a nahe legt. V. 6 lässt schwerlich einen anderen Schluss zu, als die Hasmonäer hinter den Sündern zu vermuten: Die Wiedereinführung der Monarchie ist untrennbar mit der Herrschaftsausübung dieser Dynastie verbunden. Zudem wird die Tat der Sünder in 6a näher spezifiziert. Wenn hier ein Königtum einer zuvor bekleideten Würde entgegengestellt wird, ist der Verweis auf die ursprünglich nur durch die Priesterwürde legitimierte hasmonäische Herrschaft fast zwingend.23 21)

Zum weiteren Verlauf und zur Nichtübersetzung desselben s.u. Sehr deutlich in gr durch die parallele Verwendung von εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα in V. 3-4; diese Parallele fehlt in syr. 23) Hierüber herrscht Einigkeit, zu nennen sind deshalb nur die bedeutendsten Ausnahmen: Der Versuch von Wilhelm Frankenberg, Die Datierung der Psalmen Salomos. Ein Beitrag zur jüdischen Geschichte (BZAW 1; Gießen: Ricker, 1896), in den Sündern keine Juden, sondern Fremde zu erkennen, scheitert schon daran, dass dann schwerlich der, der sie absetzt, ausdrücklich als Fremder bezeichnet werden müsste. Tromp, “The Sinners,” baut seine These, die Sünder seien die Römer (und der fremde Mann die Parther) ebenfalls auf der Idee auf, es könne sich nicht um Juden handeln, aber seine Begründung überzeugt nicht: “Sinful or not, the Hasmoneans were at least Judeans” (350), folglich hätte man sich ihre Absetzung durch einen Fremden nicht wünschen können. Das Differenzpotential innerjüdischer Polemik (für das Qumran zahlreiche Beispiele liefert) scheint mir durchaus auch einen solchen Gedanken zu erlauben. Schüpphaus, Die Psalmen Salomos, 22)

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V. 7 wechselt ins Futur und drückt die Gewissheit aus, dass Gott die Sünder stürzen und “ihren Samen von der Erde nehmen” wird (ἀρεῖς τὸ σπέρμα αὐτῶν ἀπὸ τῆς γῆς). Der Weg zum Ende der Sünder wird bereitet durch das Auftauchen des “Mannes, der unserem Geschlecht fremd ist“; durch ihn wird Gott die Sünder “gemäß ihren Sünden” strafen. Gott wird sich ihrer nicht erbarmen; damit ist (V. 10) gezeigt, dass Gott in seinen Urteilen gerecht ist. V. 11 berichtet von weiteren Ereignissen. “Der Gesetzlose” hat “unser Land” seiner Einwohner beraubt; “sie” schafften jung und alt und deren Kinder weg, und zwar, wie V. 12 mit seltener Deutlichkeit berichtet, “in den Westen.” Die Herrscher des Landes werden verspottet, der Gesetzlose schont sie nicht. Er handelt “in Fremdheit” (ἐν ἀλλοτριότητι), “und sein Herz war fremd von unserem Gott” (V. 13). Ob in V. 14 mehr über den Gesetzlosen gesagt wird, ist schwer zu entscheiden, da ausgerechnet hier ein gravierender Unterschied zwischen gr und syr ins Auge fällt. Folgt man der syrischen Version, die kein die Erzählung fortführendes waw hat, wird hier neu angesetzt und eine Begründung der Taten des Gesetzlosen gegeben (während gr ihn als Subjekt hat und von weiteren Taten berichtet)24: Weil in Jerusalem auf Weise der fremden Völker gehandelt worden war, kam nach syr der Gesetzlose, dessen Herz Gott fremd ist und der ‫ܐ‬ ܼ handelt. Es läge dann dasselbe Schema vor wie in V. 5-9: Die Strafe, jeweils durch das Auftreten einer fremden Person exerziert, entspricht exakt der Sünde. Diese Deutung ist m.E. mindestens ebenso stimmig wie der griechische Text, eine Entscheidung daher schwierig. Mit Blick auf den Gedankengang auch in V. 15 und 20, v.a. aber auf PsSal 8:1325 scheint mir syr hier den besseren Sinn zu geben, zumal gr 65-66 (Anm. 292) und 148-49 nimmt einen Redaktionsprozess an, im Zuge dessen aus den römischen Sündern durch Hinzusetzung der Verse 7-10 die Hasmonäer gemacht worden seien, aber das ist ganz unnötig. Auf Basis eines noch ungenügenden Textes schrieben Movers und Delitzsch (vgl. Anm. 5) die Vereinnahmung des davidischen Throns dem ἄνθρωπος ἀλλότριος, d.h. Herodes, zu; ein Missverständnis, was bereits Joseph Langen, Das Judenthum in Palästina zur Zeit Christi. Ein Beitrag zur Offenbarungs- und ReligionsGeschichte (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1866), 68-69 richtig bemerkt. 24) Wobei zu bedenken ist, dass die syrische Tradition mit Konjunktionen frei umgeht, vgl. Trafton, The Syriac Version, 223—die Tendenz geht allerdings eher zum Hinzufügen von Konjunktionen im Vergleich zu gr. 25) Dort wird von den Juden in Jerusalem gesagt οὐ παρέλιπον ἁμαρτίαν ἣν οὐκ ἐποίησαν ὑπὲρ τὰ ἔθνη. Und deshalb folgt die Strafe Gottes (V. 14). Zum wahrscheinlichen Zusammenhang von PsSal 17:11-20 mit PsSal 2 und 8 vgl. unten Anm. 64.

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tautologisch argumentiert; natürlich handelt ein Heide, wie die Heiden es zu tun pflegen, erwähnenswert ist solches Verhalten nur, weil es von Jerusalem nicht zu erwarten ist. V. 15 berichtet von einer Gruppe, die in Jerusalem die Herrschaft übernimmt und in der niemand ist, der rechtschaffen handelt; ihren Gegensatz bezeichnet in V. 16 die Formulierung οἱ ἀγαπῶντες συναγωγὰς ὁσίων. Die Flucht dieser Gruppe wird in den folgenden Versen (16b-19) recht lyrisch beschrieben; V. 20 nimmt noch einmal auf eine größere Gruppe Bezug, die vom König bis zum Volk als sündhaft bezeichnet wird. V. 21 beginnt einen dritten Teil mit der Bitte an Gott, “ihnen ihren König, den Sohn Davids,” aufzurichten; das Kommen dieses χριστὸς κύριος (V. 32 in allen Mss; in älteren Textausgaben in χριστὸς κυρίου geändert) ist Thema der restlichen Verse, jedoch (schon aus Platzgründen) nicht dieser Untersuchung. In der hier geprobten synchronen Lesart ist die messianische Erwartung dennoch ohne weiteres begreiflich. Der davidische Messias löst das Versprechen ein, das die Sünder ignoriert haben. Er wird die Fremden aus dem Land vertreiben (V. 28), die Völker richten (V. 29) und somit Gerechtigkeit walten lassen. Der Fremde heißt hier (V. 28) ἀλλογενής, was sinngemäß der Formulierung aus V. 7 (ἄνθρωπος ἀλλότριος γένους ἡμῶν) entsprechen könnte. Der letzte Vers (46) greift fast wörtlich (3. Sg. statt 2.) auf V. 1 zurück und betont erneut die Königsherrschaft Gottes. Dieses vor allem durch die nahe liegenden Verknüpfungen von V. 1-10 mit V. 21-46 mögliche synchrone Verständnis ist grundsätzlich akzeptabel. Wenn dennoch Zweifel angebracht sind, liegt dies an dem schwierigen Verhältnis, in dem V. 1-10 und V. 11-20 zueinander stehen.

Der Fremde und der Gesetzlose V. 11 setzt in einer Weise neu an, die nicht ganz reibungslos wirkt. Dass nämlich der ἄνομος der in V. 7 genannte ἄνθρωπος ἀλλότριος sei, ist keineswegs selbstverständlich, zumal in der weiteren Beschreibung dieser Person ein ganz anderer Ton und eine ganz andere Bewertung seines Tuns auffallen. Über den Fremden wird nichts Negatives gesagt, während der Gesetzlose schon durch diese Bezeichnung und dann verstärkt durch die Qualifizierung als ὁ ἐχθρός (V. 13) eine Schreckensgestalt wird; durch die Verschiebung der Bezeichnungen für die Opfer (ἀμαρτωλοί im Fall des Fremden, ἐνοικοῦντες τὴν γῆν bzw. νέος καὶ πρεσβύτης καὶ τέκνα αὐτῶν

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im Fall des Gesetzlosen) wird zudem die Stimmung von einer gewissen Schadenfreude in Mitleid moduliert: Während zunächst mit Genugtuung davon berichtet wird, dass die Sünder, die ein Königtum errichtet haben (was ja der Gottesprädikation βασιλεύς aus Vers 1 ebenso zuwiderläuft wie dem Davidsbund), gemäß ihren Vergehen gerichtet würden, verweigert sich der Text nun einer entsprechenden Rechtfertigung der Taten des ἄνομος, indem seine Opfer nicht als Usurpatoren eines göttlich legitimierten Titels, sondern kollektiv als Junge, Alte und Kinder begriffen werden. Wenn man die schwer zu verstehenden Verse 14-15 mit syr dahingehend deutet, dass die Sündhaftigkeit Jerusalems der Grund für das Auftreten des Gesetzlosen ist (s.o.), ist der direkte Tun-Ergehen-Zusammenhang durchaus gegeben, wobei dann das ganze Volk als sündhaft begriffen wird (wie in V. 20 und PsSal 2 und 8). Das erklärt die unterschiedslose Behandlung von alt und jung, nicht aber den Tonfall: Zufriedenheit mit diesem Beweis von Gottes Gerechtigkeit ist hier nicht formuliert.26 Auch das Erzähltempus ist nicht homogen; der ἀλλότριος handelt in der Zukunft (Futur bzw. PK), die Taten des ἄνομος sind schon geschehen (Aorist bzw. AK). Hinter beiden Begriffen wird man durchaus historische Persönlichkeiten vermuten dürfen.27 Vor allem determinierte Bezeichnungen wie ὁ ἄνομος sind häufig Chiffren für bestimmte Akteure auf der pol itischen Bühne. Es ist verschiedentlich darauf hingewiesen worden, dass die ganz ähnliche Verwendung von Decknamen in Qumran (“Frevelpriester,” “Lügenmann”) auf eine gruppeninterne Sprache verweist, die für außen Stehende unverständlich war.28 Demnach hätten die Mitglieder der Gruppe sehr genau gewusst, welche Person mit welchem Namen gemeint war. Hat nun die hinter PsSal stehende Gemeinde unterschiedslos die Begriffe ἄνθρωπος 26) Vgl. auch Kuhn, Die älteste Textgestalt, 64: “Während er [Pompeius, den Kuhn hinter beiden Formulierungen vermutet] in v. 7 als das Werkzeug Gottes erscheint zur erwünschten Vernichtung der Hasmonäer, gilt er in den Versen 11-14 als ἄνομος, als ἐχθρός, der beschuldigt wird, das Land von Einwohnern entblößt zu haben, sie deportiert zu haben bis in den fernen Westen, insbesondere die Großen des Landes zur besonderen Schmach.” Kuhn löst das Problem, indem er V. 11-14 als späteren, nach der Eroberung verfassten Zusatz ansieht. 27) Tromp, “The Sinners,” ist zwar auch der Ansicht, dass 17:7 und 17:11 nicht die gleiche Person bezeichnen, braucht jedoch für seine These, dass die Sünder aus 17:5 in 17:11 wieder aufgegriffen würden, die Annahme, dass “the words ἄνομος as well as ἐχθρός (v13a) designate a collective” (356 Anm. 38)—das ist aber nur mit dem Pluralprädikat in V. 11b schwer zu zeigen. 28) Vgl. für PsSal Atkinson, I Cried to the Lord, 10-11.

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ἀλλότριος (undeterminiert) und ὁ ἄνομος (determiniert) gebraucht, um dieselbe Person, nämlich nach der vorherrschenden Meinung Pompeius, zu bezeichnen? Unmittelbar einsichtig ist das nicht. Ein ἄνθρωπος ἀλλότριος ist in der Spezifikation aus V. 7 gerade kein Gesetzloser, denn über ihn wird nicht mehr gesagt, als dass er die ἁμαρτωλοί (die Hasmonäer) κατὰ τὰ ἁμαρτήματα αὐτῶν richten wird. Hinzu kommt, dass der ἄνομος, der (V. 12) Menschen in den Westen verschleppt, terminologisch sehr viel eher dem PsSal 2:1 genannten ἁμαρτωλός entspricht, der sicher als Pompeius zu identifizieren ist. Der ἄνομος ist ein Sünder, der gewiss “fremd” ist—die Wurzel ἀλλότρ- scheint beide Figuren zu verknüpfen. Aber nicht er ist hier Subjekt, sondern sein Herz, das fremd ἀπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ ἡμῶν ist (17:13); eine Aussage, die sich von der Beschreibung der Fremdheit des ἄνθρωπος ἀλλότριος aus V. 7 grammatisch und inhaltlich signifikant unterscheidet. Tatsächlich steckt in V. 7 womöglich mehr Information, als auf den ersten Blick ersichtlich ist. Die Formulierung ἄνθρωπος ἀλλότριος γένους ἡμῶν ( ܼ ‫ܐ ܕ‬ ) ist philologisch durchaus auffällig; ܼ ܼ die umständliche Konstruktion wäre leicht zu vermeiden gewesen, hätte man den “Fremden” wie in der LXX üblich schlicht als ἀλλότριος oder ἀλλόφυλος bezeichnet.29 Zur Bezeichnung eines Römers wäre ein solcher Terminus ohne Zweifel nahe liegend gewesen—dies umso mehr, als ein Römer nicht einem anderen Stamm oder einer anderen Sippe angehört, sondern einem anderen Volk, was eine Verwendung von λαός bzw. ἔθνος statt γένος zwar nicht zwingend erfordert, jedoch als die “natürlichere” Formulierung erscheinen lässt.30 Auch der dem hier verwendeten Wortgebrauch noch am nächsten kommende Begriff ἀλλογενής meint nicht zwingend einen Ausländer; prominentestes Beispiel für die Ambiguität des Begriffs ist die vieldiskutierte Inschrift am herodianischen Tempel.31 29)

Bereits Frankenberg, Die Datierung, hielt die Formulierung für so ungewöhnlich, dass er in seiner Rückübersetzung ins Hebräische keinen Vorschlag zur Stelle machte und überdies den so bezeichneten Fremden als den Messias deutete (46, freilich auf 47 eingeschränkt). 30) Vgl. die Präzisierung der Fremdheitsdimension im Falle des Ausländers durch einen Relativsatz in 1 Kön 8:41: καὶ τῷ ἀλλοτρίῳ, ὃς οὐκ ἔστιν ἀπὸ λαοῦ σου [καὶ ἔλθῃ ἀπὸ γῆς μακρόθεν] (die Ergänzung nach der bei Rahlfs angegebenen Variante, sie entspricht dem hebr. Text ‫ ;)ובא מארץ רחוקה‬fast gleich lautend 2 Chr 6:32: καὶ πᾶς ἀλλότριος, ὃς οὐκ ἐκ τοῦ λαοῦ σου Ισραηλ ἐστὶν αὐτὸς καὶ ἔλθῃ ἐκ γῆς μακρόθεν. Ganz ähnlich über Pompeius PsSal 8:15: ἤγαγεν τὸν ἀπ’ ἐσχάτου τῆς γῆς. 31)

Μηθένα ἀλλογενῆ εἰσπορεύεσθαι ἐντὸς τοῦ περὶ τὸ ἱερὸν τρυφάκτου καὶ περιβόλου

[. . .]. Zum Gebrauch von ἀλλογενής hier und in der LXX vgl. Stefan Krauter, Bürgerrecht

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Hält man somit fest, dass es für die Bezeichnung eines “Ausländers” im Sprachgebrauch der LXX eindeutige Termini gibt, die in PsSal 17:7 zugunsten einer ungewöhnlichen Konstruktion außer Acht gelassen werden, wirft der Vers die Frage auf, welche Dimension von Fremdheit hier angesprochen wird: Worauf bezogen ist der Fremde fremd? Eine mögliche Lösung des Problems ergibt sich, wenn das Verhältnis von Juden und Idumäern/Edomitern in den Blick genommen wird. Hartmut Stegemann hat einmal vermutet, der “Deckname” für Herodes in Qumran sei aufgrund seiner idumäischen Herkunft Amalek gewesen. PsSal ist in Qumran zwar nicht gefunden worden, aber die Gemeinsamkeiten sind nicht zu übersehen; Parallelen aus Qumran sind stets zu beachten, da heuristisch wertvoll.32 Wenn es wirklich Herodes ist, über den 4Q252 eine Aussage treffen will, indem der Text die Herkunft Amaleks von Esau her in den Blick nimmt und letzteren Jakob gegenüberstellt,33 liegt hier ein Beispiel vor für die Möglichkeit von Fremdheitsdefinition in einem Fall, und Kultteilnahme. Politische und kultische Rechte und Pflichten in griechischen Poleis, Rom und antikem Judentum (BZNW 127; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2004), 146-49, dort auch die ältere Literatur. 32) Vgl. für eine Bestandsaufnahme Joseph L. Trafton, “The Bible, the Psalms of Solomon, and Qumran,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Qumran Community (ed. James H. Charlesworth; Waco: Baylor University Press, 2006), 427-46. 33) So die Vermutung von Hartmut Stegemann, “Weitere Stücke von 4 Q p Psalm 37, von 4 Q Patriarchal Blessings und Hinweis auf eine unedierte Handschrift aus Höhle 4 Q mit Exzerpten aus dem Deuteronomium,” RevQ 6 (1967-1969): 193-227, hier 214-17; Zustimmung (auf Basis des vollständigeren Textes) bei Kenneth E. Pomykala, The Davidic Dynasty Tradition in Early Judaism. Its History and Significance for Messianism (SBLEJL 7; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995), 188-90 (wie Stegemann mit Vorbehalt). Der spekulative Charakter der Überlegung liegt auf der Hand, zumal in der Stegemann noch nicht bekannten Fortsetzung des Textes nach Col. 4.1 durchaus die Vernichtung Amaleks in den Blick genommen wird (Stegemann erwartete offenbar ein Verweilen bei der Herkunft Amaleks). Stegemann ist aber Recht zu geben, wenn er bemerkt, dass die Erwartung der endzeitlichen Vernichtung Amaleks nicht die Betonung seiner Herkunft in 4.1 nötig macht; es bleibt möglich, dass Amalek durch die explizite Nennung seines Vaters “herkunftsmässig als Nachkomme Esaus (den Jakobsnachkommen gegenüber) disqualifiziert” (214) wird—der Grund für diesen Akzent kann dann in der Tat in der herodianischen Herrschaft gesucht werden, deren Vernichtung dann hier ebenso in den Blick genommen würde wie ihre Ablösung durch den davidischen König (Col. 5). Die Datierung des Textes steht dem nicht entgegen: Er ist in “an early formal Herodian script” verfasst, gehört also wohl in die zweite Hälfte des 1. Jahrhunderts v. Chr., wenn auch ein Rückgriff auf ältere Quellen als wahrscheinlich gilt; vgl. Joseph L. Trafton, “Commentary on Genesis A (4Q252 = 4QCommGen A = 4QPBless),” in Pesharim, Other Commentaries, and Related Documents (vol. 6b von The Dead Sea Scrolls. Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek Texts with

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der eben nicht so eindeutig ist wie der des Römers Pompeius. Herodes konnte als Idumäer nach Dtn 23:8 ein Jude genannt werden, war freilich im Lichte der Eroberungspolitik des Hyrkanos (I.) aus Sicht bestimmter Kreise, denen die oberflächliche Judaisierung von Idumäern und Ituräern suspekt war, ein “Jude zweiter Klasse.”34 Die unsichere Deutung von Dtn 23:8 und die biblische Rolle Edoms taten ein Übriges.35 Sehr verbreitet scheint die Idee einer Verwandtschaft mit Edom trotz der gegensätzlichen Implikationen hasmonäischer Politik nicht gewesen zu sein; Jdt 7:8 lässt noch an der Wende zum 1. Jh. v. Chr. die ἄρχοντες υἱῶν Ησαυ als Gegner der Juden auftreten. Dass auch in der Deutung des Herodes zwischen Juden und Idumäern ein Unterschied gemacht wurde, lässt sich nicht nur den herodesfeindlichen Traditionen bei Josephus entnehmen, sondern auch einer zweiten Quelle: Die Herodesvita eines Ptolemaios stellt im einzigen uns erhaltenen Fragment, das offenbar aus der Beschreibung der Wurzeln des Herodes entnommen und womöglich gar der erste Satz des Werkes ist, unmissverständlich fest: Ἰουδαῖοι καὶ Ἰδουμαῖοι διαφέρουσιν.36 Dass dieser Unterschied nicht überall in gleicher Weise English Translations, ed. James H. Charlesworth; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, Westminster John Knox Press, 2002), 203-23, hier 204 mit Literatur. 34) Noch in hasmonäischer Zeit sind die Idumäer als Feinde der Juden dargestellt, vgl. nur 1 Makk 5:3 und 5:39; 2 Makk 10:15; Jdt 7:8-15. Vgl. zur Judaisierung als funktionale Innovation zur Ermöglichung engerer politischer und wirtschaftlicher Verflechtung etwa Shaye J. D. Cohen, The Beginnings of Jewishness. Boundaries, Varieties, Uncertainties (Hellenistic Culture and Society 31; Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999), 110-19; Richard A. Horsley, “The Expansion of Hasmonean Rule in Idumea and Galilee: Toward a Historical Sociology,” in Second Temple Studies III. Studies in Politics, Class and Material Culture (ed. Philip P. R. Davies und John M. Halligan; JSOTSup 340; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), 134-65; Seth Schwartz, “Conversion to Judaism in the Second Temple Period: A Functionalist Approach,” in Studies in Josephus and the Varieties of Ancient Judaism. Louis H. Feldman Jubilee Volume (ed. Shaye J. D. Cohen und Joshua J. Schwartz; AJEC 67; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 223-36. Das Ergebnis solcher Politik lässt sich allenfalls als “oberflächliche” Judaisierung begreifen. 35) Vgl. zur Rolle Edoms John R. Bartlett, Edom and the Edomites (JSOTSup 77; Sheffield: Sheffield University Press, 1989), 175-86. Die Anwendung von Dtn 23:8, der einzigen Stelle, in der die Verwandtschaft von Israel und Edom positiv herausgestellt wird, auf Herodes hängt auch davon ab, ob man die Vorschrift in Dtn 23:9 (dass Kinder der dritten Generation zur Versammlung des Herrn zugelassen werden sollen) inklusiv oder exklusiv versteht. 36) Apud Ammonius, De Adfinium Voc. Diff. Nr. 243. Kokkinos, The Herodian Dynasty, 91 Anm. 22 sieht hier eine zumindest nicht herodesfreundliche Position ausgedrückt; vgl. dazu bereits Gustav Hölscher, Die Quellen des Josephus für die Zeit vom Exil bis zum jüdischen Kriege (Leipzig: Teubner, 1904), 57 (“Er scheint kein Höfling zu sein”). Ob Josephus

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behauptet wurde, ist anzunehmen;37 die Überlieferung bot Raum für verschiedene Interpretationen und ließ eine wesentliche Frage letztlich offen: Ist ein Idumäer ein “Fremder” im Sinne radikaler Fremdheit, ist er ein Jude, oder ist er, wie es Antigonos Mattathias bei Josephus formuliert, ein Halbjude (ἡμιιουδαῖος), einer, der zwar irgendwie dazugehört, aber nicht vom gleichen Stamm ist wie die “echten” Juden?38 In einem Denkmodell, das etwa Amalek, Edom und Herodes gleichsetzt oder “Söhne Esaus” als Gegner Israels anführt (auch 4Q491 frg. 11 nennt Herodes womöglich das Werk des Ptolemaios kannte ist—trotz der weit reichenden Thesen Hölschers, der eine indirekte Rezeption annimmt—ganz unklar. 37) Strabo nennt ihn Geogr. 16.2.46 Ἡρώδης, ἀνὴρ ἐπιχώριος. Vgl. zudem die viel zitierte Stelle Mischnah Sôtâh VII, 8, derzufolge Agrippa I. beim Vorlesen aus dem Deuteronomium auch Dtn 17:15 vorgetragen und dabei geweint habe, woraufhin die Menge ausgerufen habe: “Fürchte nicht, Agrippa, du bist unser Bruder, du bist unser Bruder.” Für Schalit, König Herodes, 693 geht daraus hervor, “daß die Pharisäer die Herodianer (und natürlich auch Herodes) als Proselyten grundsätzlich für Fremde hielten und ihnen auf Grund von Deut. 17,15, das Recht auf das Königtum absprachen”—für Agrippa habe man nur eine Ausnahme gemacht. Doch die Antwort des Volkes ist ja positiv und kann mit gleichem Recht auch auf die übrigen Herodianer oder gar alle Idumäer bezogen werden. An anderer Stelle gesteht Schalit die Möglichkeit durchaus ein, dass Agrippa auch deshalb als Bruder bezeichnet worden sei, weil die Rabbinen um Dtn 23:8 nicht herum gekommen seien, vgl. Abraham Schalit: “Die frühchristliche Überlieferung über die Herkunft der Familie des Herodes. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der politischen Invektive in Judäa,” ASTI 1 (1962): 109-60, hier 159 Anm. 75. Vgl. zum Problem des “Judentums” des Herodes insgesamt Cohen, The Beginnings of Jewishness, 13-24. 38) A.J. 14.403: Die Römer handelten ungerecht, wenn sie Ἡρώδῃ δώσουσιν τὴν βασιλείαν ἰδιώτῃ τε ὄντι καὶ Ἰδουμαίῳ, τουτέστιν ἡμιιουδαίῳ. Der Ursprung dieser Tradition ist schwer zu fassen. Zur Ansicht des Josephus passt die Behauptung eigentlich nicht: Im Kontext der Judaisierung der Idumäer stellt er jedenfalls A.J. 13.258 fest: κἀκείνοις αὐτοῖς χρόνος ὑπῆρχεν ὥστε εἶναι τὸ λοιπὸν Ἰουδαίους (im B.J. mag das anders sein, vgl. A. Appelbaum, “‘The Idumaeans’ in Josephus’ The Jewish War,” JSJ 40 [2009]: 1-22). Der Erzähler der Antigonos-Stelle lässt jedoch keinen Zweifel daran, dass der Vorwurf berechtigt ist: Die gegenseitigen Vorwürfe seien bald in Schmähungen ausgeartet (14.405: προελθόντων εἰς βλασφημίας), womit impliziert ist, dass es noch keine Schmähung, sondern korrekt gewesen sei, Herodes als ἡμιιουδαῖος zu bezeichnen. Da die ganze Argumentation des Antigonos in einem suspekten Kontext steht (sie nimmt nämlich offenbar Bezug auf 14.386 und somit auf eine zweifellos konstruierte Nachricht, vgl. zu dieser Benedikt Eckhardt, “Herodes und Rom 40 v. Chr. Vom Nutzen und Nachteil der Königswürde für einen jüdischen Herrscher,” in Günther, ed., Herodes und Rom, 9-25), kann die Frage nur sein, woher Josephus diese Konstruktion entnehmen konnte. Von Ptolemaios wissen wir immerhin, dass er Juden und Idumäer unterschied; Klarheit ist hier aber kaum zu erlangen, zumal man auch umgekehrt A.J. 13.258 auf Nikolaos von Damaskus zurückführen könnte (aber vgl. unten Anm. 42).

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einen “Edomiter”),39 wird die Frage in letzterem Sinne beantwortet. Edom ist nicht völlig fremd, gehört aber auch nicht dazu. Als Nachkommen Esaus sind die Edomiter den Nachkommen Jakobs verwandt, zum gleichen Stamm aber gehören sie nicht.40 Dass Herodes selbst in einer Rede seine Untertanen als ἄνδρες ὁμόφυλοι angesprochen und die Geschichte Israels als Geschichte des γένος ἡμῶν (!) dargestellt haben soll, wird die ihm freundliche Tradition nicht ohne Grund betont haben;41 sie setzt dabei womöglich eine genealogische Konstruktion voraus, die Herodes gar nicht als Idumäer, sondern als Nachkommen der ersten Rückkehrer aus dem babylonischen Exil kennt.42 39) Der Text ist unsicher; für die Übersetzung “no Edomite shall be like me in glory” ergibt sich das Problem, dass im Text (col. 1, Z. 12) ‫ א דומי‬steht. Das Aleph ist also nicht mit dem Rest verbunden, weshalb Maurice Baillet, Qumrân Grotte 4, III (4Q482-4Q520) (DJD 7; Oxford: Clarendon, 1982), 29 ad loc. es als Ende des vorigen Wortes begreift und mit einigem Vorbehalt ‫דומי‬, “Stille,” liest. Dass dies keinen Sinn ergibt (“et leurs nobles ne [. . . pas . . .] . . . silence . . . ma gloire [hier fügt Baillet “est incomparable” ein] et nul n’est exalté que moi”), weist jedoch eher auf den Edomiter hin, vgl. dazu und für die Identifizierung mit Herodes Morton Smith, “Ascent to the Heavens and Deification in 4QMa,” in Archaeology and History in the Dead Sea Scrolls (ed. Lawrence H. Schiffman; JSPSup 8; Sheffield: Sheffield University Press, 1990), 181-88, hier 184-86 (von dort auch die Übs.); ferner Collins, The Scepter and the Star, 149 Anm. 4 für die Lesung “Edomiter,” der jedoch 150, Anm. 6 die Deutung auf Herodes für unsicher hält. Jean Duhaime weist in seiner Ausgabe des Textes (“War Scroll,” in Damascus Document, War Scroll and Related Documents [ed. James H. Charlesworth; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1995], 80-203, hier 152 ad loc.) den “Edomiter” zurück, da vor dem aleph ein nicht lesbarer Buchstabe stehe—das wäre in der Tat ein entscheidendes Argument. Nach Ansicht der Scans (in der Dead Sea Scrolls Electronic Library, rev. ed., Brill, 2006) bin ich diesbezüglich unsicher, tendiere dazu, Duhaimes Lesung zu folgen. 40) Gen 25:23 konnte eine solche Deutung gegen Dtn 23:8 durchaus legitimieren: Es ist ausdrücklich von zwei Stämmen die Rede, die aus Rebekkas Leib hervorgehen und sich trennen: ‫ושׁני לאמים ממעיך יפרדו‬. 41) Josephus, A.J. 15.382 und 384 anlässlich der Einweihung des Tempels. Durch die ausdrückliche Nennung der πατέρες ἡμέτεροι (385) wird verwandtschaftliche Nähe angezeigt; die Bezeichnung τὸ Ἰουδαίων ἔθνος (383) soll sicher auch Herodes enthalten. Es gehört zu den kurioseren Aspekten der Rezeptionsgeschichte, dass in der—bis heute einzigen—deutschen Übersetzung von Heinrich Clementz das γένος ἡμῶν “euer Volk” und die πατέρες ἡμέτεροι “eure Vorfahren” werden. Der Verfasser von PsSal 17:1-10 hätte es nicht besser formulieren können. 42) Woher die Rede stammt, ist unsicher; Helgo Lindner, “Der Bau des größeren Tempels (A 15:380-390). Herodianische Propaganda und Josephus’ Auffassung der jüdischen Geschichte,” in Internationales Josephus-Kolloquium Paris 2001 (ed. Folker Siegert und Jürgen U. Kalms; Münsteraner Judaistische Studien 12; Münster: LIT, 2002), 152-60 hält sie für ein Werk des Nikolaos. Von diesem berichtet Josephus, er habe einen Stammbaum für

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Von diesen Überlegungen her fällt ein neues Licht auf die Frage nach dem ἄνθρωπος ἀλλότριος γένους ἡμῶν aus Vers 7. Der Edomiter ist nach Dtn 23:8 zwar unter die Brüder zu zählen, dennoch ließ sich von ihm sagen, er sei ἀλλότριος γένους ἡμῶν. Ein Römer hingegen gehört schon auf Griechisch keinem ἀλλότριον γένος, sondern—wie in PsSal 2:2— einem ἔθνος ἀλλότριον an.43 Die syrische Version kann diesen Eindruck vielleicht noch verstärken, indem sie in 17:7 ‫ܐ‬ setzt. Gr und syr legen durch die Wortwahl den Fokus auf die Verwandtschaft; der Fremde ist einem “Stamm,” einem “Geschlecht” fremd.44 Man hat auf die genealogische Komponente hingewiesen, die zumindest philologisch (nicht unbedingt im Wortgebrauch) hinter ἀλλογενής, das der hier verwendeten Bezeichnung am nächsten kommt, steckt.45 Das alles passt zu einer mit der ἡμιιουδαῖος-Vorstellung operierenden Deutung des Herodes, die Herodes konstruiert, der ihn mit den ältesten Rückkehrern aus dem babylonischen Exil verbunden habe (A.J. 14.9). Die Behauptung, Herodes gehöre dem jüdischen γένος an, wäre demnach nicht in erster Linie mit Dtn 23:8 oder der Judaisierung der Idumäer, sondern gerade mit der Ablenkung von der idumäischen Herkunft zu erklären. Ohne hier in quellenkritische Feinanalysen einsteigen zu wollen sei jedoch darauf hingewiesen, dass die herodianische Erweiterung des Tempels in B.J. 1.400 (normalerweise ein sicherer Kandidat für die Annahme einer Entlehnung aus Nikolaos) in eine Reihe mit Taten gestellt wird, die keinen Bezug zum Judentum haben; Werke der Frömmigkeit sind offenbar der Neubau des jüdischen Tempels ebenso wie der Bau eines Augustustempels oder die Benennung ganzer Städte nach dem römischen Kaiser. Es ist nicht zu sehen, wie in diesen Kontext die in den A.J. überlieferte Tempelrede hätte passen können, die jüdische Tradition beschwört und dem Jerusalemer Tempel herausragende Bedeutung zumisst. Vor die Wahl gestellt, ob B.J. 1.400 oder A.J. 15.382-387 aus Nikolaos stammen, erscheint mir die Hypothese, alles, was herodesfreundlich sei, müsse aus Nikolaos stammen, nicht mehr sonderlich attraktiv. 43) Vgl. neben PsSal 2:2 etwa Sir 29:18; 36:2; 49:5; Bar 4:3. Jes 1:7 hat λαοὶ ἀλλοτρίοι. 44) Hinzuweisen ist auf PsSal 17:26b, wo die Formulierung καὶ κρινεῖ φυλὰς λαοῦ ἡγιασμένου die Unterscheidung von Stamm und Volk ausdrückt—syr hat hier wie in V. 7 ‫ܐ‬ für “Stamm“; “Volk” heißt . In eine ähnliche Richtung weist PsSal 7:8: οἰκτιρήσεις τὸ γένος Ισραηλ (neben 17:7 die einzige Belegstelle für γένος in den PsSal): Syr wählt hier den “Samen” Israels, ‫ܕ ܐ‬ ‫ ܪ‬. In der LXX gibt es keine Parallele für die Fügung ἀλλότριος γένους. Allenfalls Est 8:12k wäre zu nennen: ἀλλότριος τοῦ τῶν Περσῶν αἵματος. Zum hier Vorgetragenen passt sehr gut die Rückübersetzung von A. S. Kaminetzky: ‫תהלות־שלמה‬, Haschiloah 13 (1904): 43-55, 149-59, der ad loc. ἀλλότριος γένους ἡμῶν mit ‫ נכרי למולדתנו‬wiedergibt—allerdings bereits unter Berufung auf Hilgenfelds Deutung des Fremden als Antipater. 45) Vgl. Daniel R. Schwartz, “On Two Aspects of a Priestly View of Descent at Qumran,” in Schiffman, ed., Archaeology and History in the Dead Sea Scrolls, 157-79, hier 166; zum Wortgebrauch Krauter, Bürgerrecht und Kultteilnahme, 146-49.

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dann die Konstruktion einer urjüdischen Herkunft des Königs nicht akzeptiert hätte. Ein Römer hingegen dürfte hier kaum gemeint sein. Es kann nicht ernsthaft eine genealogische Frage gewesen sein, ob Pompeius zum Geschlecht der Israeliten gehöre; ihn als “fremd von unserem Stamm” zu bezeichnen wäre aus jüdischer Sicht unnötig, da evident und nachgerade ein Euphemismus. Im Falle des Edomiters hingegen ergibt sich ein Politikum, das durchaus diskussionswürdig war—und erklären würde, warum die komplizierte Formulierung gewählt wurde, wo man es sich ganz einfach hätte machen können. Ein weiteres Argument liefert womöglich die auf den ersten Blick unscheinbare erste Hälfte der Formulierung. Es ist zumindest auffällig, dass die Bezeichnung ἄνθρωπος ἀλλότριος fast analogielos ist: Der Fremde heißt in der LXX zumeist einfach ἀλλότριος, gelegentlich begegnen ὑιοὶ ἀλλότριοι. Die Formulierung ἄνθρωπος ἀλλότριος kommt nur ein einziges Mal vor,46 und zwar als Übersetzung von ‫ אישׁ נכרי‬im Königsgesetz Dtn 17:15: “Du sollst keinen Fremden (ἄνθρωπον ἀλλότριον) über dich [als König] einsetzen, weil er nicht dein Bruder ist.” Sollte hier ein Zitat vorliegen (die hebräische Formulierung ist noch ein weiteres Mal belegt),47 wäre evident, dass in PsSal 17:7 auf einen judäischen König angespielt würde, der wiederum im Kontext nur Herodes sein könnte. Dass zur Beurteilung seiner Herrschaft trotz Dtn 23:8 auch Dtn 17:15 herangezogen wurde, ist oft vermutet worden und wäre hiermit auch erstmals belegt (sofern man nicht auch in 4Q491 einen Hinweis auf Dtn 17:15 finden möchte).48 Unsere Kenntnis der historischen Ereignisse liefert für sich genommen kein hinreichendes Argument,49 ist aber im Verbund mit den genannten Indizien selbstredend heranzuziehen. Bekanntermaßen hat Pompeius keinen Hasmonäer getötet, sondern vielmehr Aristobulos II. nach Rom (“in Sir 23:23 hat einen ἀνὴρ ἀλλότριος, aber hier ist von Ehebruch die Rede, mithin von einem “anderen,” nicht von einem “fremden” Mann. 47) Koh 6:2; LXX hat hier ἀνὴρ ξένος. Im Targum ist ‫ נוכרי גבר‬nur in Dtn 17:15 belegt. 48) Da es in 4Q491 doch zumindest auch um legitime Herrschaft geht (nach Smith, “Ascent to the Heavens,” handelt es sich um spekulative Vergöttlichungsmystik), ist die Behauptung, “kein Edomiter” werde wie der Sprecher in Ehre stehen (zum Textproblem s.o.), der seinerseits auf dem Thron sitzt, ein möglicher Reflex der abgelehnten Verbindung von Dtn 17:15 und 23:8. 49) Sie ist jedoch die einzige Grundlage für die bisher zum Thema vorgetragenen Überlegungen; das betrifft auch Laperrousaz, “Hérode le Grand,” der zu den gleichen Identifikationen gelangt wie ich. 46)

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den Westen”) bringen lassen und Hyrkanos II. als Ethnarchen eingesetzt, dessen Tochter Alexandra ebenso am Leben blieb wie deren Kinder Mariamme und Aristobulos (III).50 Herodes dagegen ließ sich, eine allerdings erhebliche Verengung der Perspektive vorausgesetzt, durchaus als der Mörder der Hasmonäer deuten. Von Pompeius konnte schwerlich gesagt werden οὐκ ἀφῆκεν αὐτῶν ἕνα, dass dies jedoch über Herodes behauptet wurde, beweist Josephus hinlänglich.51 Das Problem ist längst gesehen worden, und es ist kaum ein hinreichendes Gegenargument, den Abschnitt unmittelbar vor die erwartete Eroberung des Pompeius zu datieren (s.u.). Dass hingegen Herodes niemanden in den Westen verschleppt hat, dies aber sehr wohl auf Pompeius zutrifft, lässt sich mit Laperrousaz als inhaltliches Argument für die Identifizierung des ἄνομος mit Pompeius, des ἄνθρωπος ἀλλότριος γένους ἡμῶν aber mit Herodes anführen. Nachdem nunmehr inhaltliche, philologische und formkritische Indizien (von Beweisen ist gerade im Bereich der Pseudepigraphie nie zu sprechen) für eine Neubewertung von PsSal 17 formuliert worden sind, ist zu fragen, welche Konsequenzen sich aus dieser Relektüre ergeben. Literar50)

Winninge, Sinners and the Righteous, 100-101 sieht das Problem und löst es dahingehend auf, dass den Verfasser von PsSal 17 nur die Königswürde der Hasmonäer interessiert habe: Er “evidently did not bother about the fact that they were high priests,” folglich könne die Tatsache, dass Hyrkanos II. als Hohepriester auch nach 63 v. Chr. nominell regierte, bei der Interpretation vernachlässigt werden. Aber οὐκ ἀφῆκεν αὐτῶν ἕνα weist auf mehr hin als lediglich auf eine verfassungstypologische Neudefinition des hasmonäischen Machtanspruchs. 51) Vgl. ferner AssMos 6:2. Sehr wichtig ist aber die unabweisbar richtige Differenzierung von Linda-Marie Günther, “Herodes, sein Sohn Antipater und die jerusalemitische Aristokratie,” in Herodes und Jerusalem (ed. Linda-Marie Günther; Stuttgart: Steiner 2009), 99-112. Josephus konzentriert sich allein auf die Hyrkanos-Linie als die “richtigen” Hasmonäer. Aber es gibt noch andere, so die Schwester Mariammes, mit der Herodes seinen Bruder Pheroras verheiratet, ferner die Tochter des Antigonos Mattathias, die seinen Sohn Antipater heiratet und bis zu dessen Tod 5 v. Chr. seine einzige Frau bleibt. Josephus übergeht die heiratspolitische Einbindung der Antigonos-Linie und stellt “die Hasmonäer” als eine homogene Gruppe dar, die sie nicht gewesen sind. Damit hat er einflussreiche Forschungsmeinungen geprägt. Für PsSal 17 heißt das, dass man nicht einfach 31 v. Chr. (Tod des Hyrkanos) als terminus ad quem annehmen kann, weil dann der “letzte Hasmonäer” getötet worden sei. Immerhin wird man aber aufgrund der deutlichen Parallele in AssMos 6:2 (s.u.) sagen dürfen, dass PsSal wie AssMos und auch Josephus anscheinend vorrangig die Hasmonäer als Herrschergeschlecht in den Blick nimmt, womit die Hyrkanoslinie naturgemäß größere Beachtung erhält als die übrig bleibenden hasmonäischen Frauen.

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kritisch folgt aus dem Gesagten die Frage nach der Einheit von PsSal 17. Für die Deutung jüdischer Geschichte im 2. und 1. Jahrhundert v. Chr. ergeben sich ebenfalls Konsequenzen, die zum Abschluss behandelt werden sollen.

Literarkritische Konsequenzen Unlängst hat Kenneth Atkinson mit Recht V. 1-10 und V. 11-20 als ursprünglich separate Texte verstanden, freilich aus meiner Sicht aus den falschen Gründen. Für Atkinson ergibt sich aus den Futura in V. 7-9a, dass V. 1-10 vor der Belagerung des Pompeius, jedoch in Erwartung derselben, verfasst worden seien; V. 11-20 hingegen seien späterer Zusatz, “added to update the work to recount Pompey’s removal of Aristobulus and his partisans ‚to the west’.”52 Atkinson setzt dabei nicht nur die Einheit von “Fremdem” und “Gesetzlosem” voraus und bezieht beide Bezeichnungen auf Pompeius, sondern nimmt die Futurformen wörtlich: Die Ankündigung einer Bestrafung heißt, dass diese Bestrafung tatsächlich noch nicht eingetreten ist.53 Dem lässt sich die Möglichkeit eines vaticinium ex eventu entgegen halten. An der Trennung der beiden Teile ist jedenfalls festzuhalten. V. 1-10 ergeben ein geschlossenes Bild: Am Anfang werden die Königswürde Gottes und der Davidsbund herausgestellt, am Ende werden diejenigen, die sich widerrechtlich zu Königen gemacht haben, von einem gerichtet werden, den Gott geschickt hat. Dass dieser Mann nach Dtn 17:15 niemals hätte König werden dürfen, ist eine Analogie zur illegitimen Aneignung des Königtums durch die Hasmonäer. Schuld und Strafe entsprechen sich; die Hasmonäer werden tatsächlich κατὰ τὰ ἁμαρτήματα αὐτῶν gerichtet. Dass darüber hinaus das Schema des von Gott aufgrund der jüdischen Sünden geschickten Fremden Anwendung findet, ist ein Grundgedanke, der beiden Gedichten zugrunde liegt. Vers 10 drückt dann aus, was aus dem Beispiel zu lernen ist: πιστὸς ὁ κύριος ἐν πᾶσι τοῖς κρίμασιν αὐτοῦ, οἷς ποιεῖ ἐπὶ τὴν γῆν— ein Abschluss, der ganz parallel zu den letzten Versen der übrigen PsSal steht und als Doxologie die ersten zehn Verse passend beschreibt, auf 52)

Atkinson, I Cried to the Lord, 138. Mit der gleichen Argumentation hatte Atkinson, “Herod the Great,” den Text in die Zeit zwischen 36 und 30 [sic] v. Chr., also zwischen den Beginn der Vernichtung der Hasmonäer durch Herodes und den Tod ihres (vermeintlich! S.o. Anm. 51) letzten Vertreters, datiert. 53)

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V. 11-20 jedoch aufgrund der gegensätzlichen Bewertung der Ereignisse nur schwer beziehbar ist. Die Anerkennung der Gerechtigkeit Gottes, die in V. 11-20 durch die Verortung der Sünde in Jerusalem mühsam gegen den vorherrschenden Klageton durchgesetzt werden muss und deshalb nicht ausformuliert werden kann, steht in den Versen 1-10 nicht nur außer Frage, sondern erhält durch sie gerade ihre Begründung: V. 1-10 sind ein Gotteslob. Wann dieser Teil von PsSal 17 entstanden ist, lässt sich kaum ausmachen. Nimmt man das Futur wörtlich als eine Erwartung anzeigend, käme nur ein Zeitpunkt vor der Hinrichtung des letzten Vertreters dessen in Frage, was der Autor als “die Hasmonäerdynastie” ausgemacht hat, wobei offen bleiben müsste, ob hier an Antigonos Mattathias (37 v. Chr.), Hyrkanos II. (31 v. Chr.), Mariamme (29 v. Chr.) oder noch an deren Söhne (8/7 v. Chr.) zu denken wäre.54 Doch eine solche Einschränkung ist unzulässig. Dass Herodes das Mittel sei, die Hasmonäer κατὰ τὰ ἁμαρτήματα αὐτῶν zu richten, konnte zu jedem beliebigen Zeitpunkt gesagt werden; beachtenswert ist eine sehr genaue Parallele in AssMos 6:2: Et succedit illis (nämlich den Hasmonäern) rex petulans, qui non erit de genere sacerdotum, homo temerarius et improbus, et iudicabit illis, quomodo digni erunt—der Text stammt aus dem ersten Jahrhundert n. Chr. und drückt an entscheidender Stelle dasselbe aus wie PsSal 17:8. Nicht in der dynastischen, wohl aber in der verfassungstypologischen Argumentation ist eine weitere Parallele gegeben: Beide Texte scheinen besonderes Gewicht auf den hasmonäischen Königstitel und dessen Unvereinbarkeit mit der Priesterwürde zu legen.55 Bedenkenswert ist zudem die in AssMos, Mt 2 und evtl. 4Q252 zu findende Vorstellung einer Ablösung des Herodes durch eine messianische Gestalt; liest man PsSal 17 in der jetzigen Form, liegt dasselbe Phänomen vor.56 Dass diese Gedankenwelt eine konkrete historische Situation voraussetzte, ist nicht zu sehen. 54)

Für Antigonos plädiert Josephus A.J. 14.490f. Zum Problem s.o. Anm. 51. PsSal 17:6a ist oben diskutiert worden; AssMos 6:1 nennt die Hasmonäer Könige (reges), die Priester des höchsten Gottes genannt werden (vocabuntur). Vgl. dagegen die allgemeinere Formulierung ἄρχοντες τῆς γῆς in PsSal 8:16 und 17:12. 56) Vgl. zu Herodes als Endtyrann Benedikt Eckhardt, “Herodes der Große als Antiochus redivivus in apokrypher und josephischer Deutung. Mit einem Ausblick auf eine konstruktivistische Herodesforschung,” Klio 90 (2008): 360-73. Ferner speziell zu Mt 2 Peter Wick, “König Herodes: Messiasprätendent, Pharao, Antichrist. Das Herodesbild des Matthäusevangeliums und seine Parallelen zu dem des Josephus,” in Günther, ed., Herodes und Jerusalem, 61-69. 55)

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Die Verse 11-20 erzählen von Pompeius, anders ist die Verschleppung der Besiegten in den Westen kaum zu erklären.57 Während 1-10 ein Gotteslob sind, lassen sich 11-20 als Klagepsalm verstehen. Der abrupte Beginn in V. 11 entspricht zudem sehr genau dem Beginn der anderen Pompeius-Psalmen, während die ausführliche Gottesanrufung in 1-3 in den übrigen historisch orientierten PsSal stets fehlt.58 Die gegensätzliche Beurteilung des Geschehens in V. 7-10 (Lob) und 11-14 (Klage) ist längst aufgefallen, die entsprechenden redaktionskritischen Hypothesen setzen jedoch die Einheit von ἄνθρωπος ἀλλότριος und ἄνομος voraus.59 Gegen die hier vertretene Unterscheidung beider Figuren lässt sich zwar einwenden, dass auch Gesetzlose ἐν ἀλλοτριότητι handelt. Aber neben dem oben zu den verschiedenen Arten der Fremdheit Gesagten (und der Mehrdeutigkeit der Wurzel ‫)נכר‬60 ist hier darauf zu verweisen, dass eben diese oberflächliche Gleichartigkeit des Wortgebrauchs einen Redaktor, der für die PsSal unbedingt anzunehmen ist,61 dazu verleitet haben kann, die beiden Gedichte zusammenzuziehen. Dies ist dann entweder zu einem Zeitpunkt geschehen, an dem die “ingroup-language” schon nicht mehr 57) Auch Tromp, “The Sinners,” stellt fest, dass hier auf Rom Bezug genommen wird. Er deutet aber ἄνομος und ἐχθρός als Kollektivbegriffe zur Bezeichnung der Römer und den ἄνθρωπος ἀλλότριος als Bezeichnung für die Parther; PsSal 17 habe also die parthische Intervention in Judäa 40 v. Chr. zum Hintergrund. Die Verschleppung “in den Westen” kann jedoch so nicht erklärt werden. 58) Die vorangehende Anrufung Gottes fehlt in den PsSal 2, 4 (wo sicher von historischen Ereignissen, jedoch kaum von Pompeius erzählt wird) und 8. Kanonische Parallelen sind Ps 79; 137. 59) Vgl. Kuhn, Die älteste Textgestalt, 64 (V. 11-14 sind nach der Eroberung verfasst); Schüpphaus, Die Psalmen Salomos, 149 (V. 7-10 sind später hinzugefügt); zu Atkinson s.o. 60) Kuhn, Die älteste Textgestalt, 61-62 verweist auf die Bedeutung “genau anschauen” bzw. einfach “sehen” für ‫נכר‬. Er übersetzt daher ἐν ἀλλοτριότητι/ ‫ܐ‬ ܼ in V. 13a (das ja zusammen mit 13b einen Pleonasmus ergibt) mit “durch Anschauen,” was natürlich (fast zu) ideal auf Pompeius passt, der bekanntlich das Innere des Tempels sah (zu bedenken ist aber, dass dieser Akzent von Josephus gesetzt wird; man muss nicht annehmen, dass die hebr. Version der PsSal das “Anschauen” des Tempelinneren in gleicher Weise hervorgehoben hat). Ohne Hinweis auf Kuhn begegnet diese Übersetzung auch bei V. Burr, “Rom und Judäa im 1. Jahrhundert v. Chr. (Pompeius und die Juden),” ANRW 1 (1972): 875-86, zu PsSal 881-82. 61) Vgl. nur Schüpphaus, Die Psalmen Salomos, 138-53; Otto Kaiser, “Beobachtungen zur Komposition und Redaktion der Psalmen Salomos,” in Das Manna fällt auch heute noch. Beiträge zur Geschichte und Theologie des Alten, Ersten Testaments. Festschrift für Erich Zenger (ed. Frank-Lothar Hossfeld und Ludger Schwienhorst-Schönberger; Herders Biblische Studien 44; Freiburg: Herder, 2004), 362-78.

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jedem verständlich und also nicht mehr klar war, dass der Fremde und der Gesetzlose unterschiedliche Personen waren, oder—und das ist ohnehin eine wahrscheinliche Überlegung—es geschah aufgrund einer Intention, die nicht primär auf historische Exaktheit abzielte. Im Kontext eines Synagogenvortrags war es wohl letztlich egal, ob ursprünglich von Pompeius oder Herodes die Rede war, solange die im ersten und im letzten Vers ausgedrückte Gewissheit durch Figuren wie den “Fremden” und den “Gesetzlosen” untermauert werden konnte: Κύριε, σὺ αὐτὸς βασιλεὺς ἡμῶν εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα καὶ ἔτι. Dass V. 46, der V. 1 (bis auf den Wechsel in die 3. Sg.) entspricht, im Zuge der Kompilation der Gedichte hinzugefügt worden sei, ist denkbar. Die Verse 21-46 müssen ursprünglich weder zu V. 1-10 noch zu 11-20 gehört haben.62 Wie oben festgestellt lassen sich jedoch durchaus Bezüge zwischen V. 1-10 und V. 21-46 konstruieren; mit 11-20 haben sie dagegen (wie auch 1-10) wenig gemeinsam. Als Anschluss an das Klagelied 11-20 sind V. 21-46 formal gesehen wiederum besser verständlich als im Anschluss an V. 10, eine kanonische Parallele wäre etwa Ps 83. Das lässt zwar keinen sicheren Schluss zu (V. 21-46 können als spätere Fortschreibung entstanden sein, vielleicht zu einem Zeitpunkt, an dem 1-10 und 11-20 schon kontrahiert waren), hält jedoch die Möglichkeit einer nicht auf Zufall oder Missgeschick beruhenden Redaktionsgeschichte von PsSal 17 offen. Ob die Verwendung von ἀλλογενής in der Vertreibungsvision (V. 28) als Argument gegen diesen Zusammenhang spricht oder als Zitat von V. 7 begriffen werden kann (nachdem nunmehr dort geklärt wurde, dass der Begriff ἀλλογενής hier den ἄνθρωπος ἀλλότριος γένους ἡμῶν, d.h. die idumäische Bevölkerung, meint), ist nur eine der sich hier ergebenden Fragen, die sich letztlich nicht lösen lassen. In jedem Fall ist das Verständnis des nunmehr bestehenden PsSal 17 zwangsläufig ein synchrones, in dem der Fremde und der Gesetzlose dasselbe Phänomen bezeichnen: Die Bedingung des Auftretens des davidischen Messiaskönigs ist die vorhergehende Unterdrückung durch einen “Endtyrannen.” Der Text lässt sich so auf eine Vielzahl von Situationen deuten; nicht zufällig hat man wahlweise Antiochos IV., Pompeius, Herodes oder andere Referenten hinter der nunmehr als fremd und gesetzlos gekennzeichneten 62) Fast alle Belege, die Joshua Efron für einen christlichen Ursprung der PsSal anführt (“The Psalms of Solomon, the Hasmonean Decline and Christianity,” [1965] in Joshua Efron, Studies on the Hasmonean Period [SJLA 39; Leiden: Brill, 1987], 219-86), stammen für PsSal 17 aus V. 21-46. Das Thema ist hier nicht zu vertiefen.

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Gestalt vermutet. Herodes und Pompeius verschmelzen in PsSal 17 zu einer Figur, die nicht historiographischen, sondern theologischen Zwecken dient. Ein “Herodompeius” ist die Voraussetzung für die Ankunft des χριστός. Auf wie viele fremde und gesetzlose Herrscher der Text nach Abschluss des Redaktionsprozesses gedeutet worden ist, lässt sich kaum ermessen.

Historiographische Konsequenzen Der davidische Messianismus ist in Qumran mehrfach bezeugt und wird als Ausdruck einer antihasmonäischen Attitüde gedeutet.63 Die unmittelbare Gegenüberstellung von davidischem Anspruch und hasmonäischer Herrschaft leistet jedoch nur PsSal 17, weshalb der Text für die Erforschung der Opposition gegen die Hasmonäer als Kronzeuge angeführt wird. Als Konsequenz des hier Dargelegten fällt auf diesen Argumentationsstrang ein neues Licht. Nur der Teil von PsSal 17, der—wenn die hier angeführten Indizien in die richtige Richtung weisen—Herodes nennt und also frühestens in herodianischer Zeit entstanden ist, stellt davidisches und hasmonäisches Königtum einander gegenüber. Erst unter dem Einfluss herodianischer Herrschaft werden die Hasmonäer beschuldigt, den Thron Davids an sich gerissen zu haben; die übrigen PsSal und auch der weitere Verlauf von PsSal 17 formulieren diesen Gedanken nicht. Es passt ins Bild, dass eine eigentlich antihasmonäische Deutung der Eroberung Jerusalems im Jahre 63 v. Chr. in den PsSal außer in 17:1-10 nicht zu zeigen ist. Gott hat Pompeius geschickt, weil ganz Jerusalem sündhaft war. Dem Verfasser der Verse 11-20 ist dies kein Grund zur Freude, vielmehr sind Trauer und Mitleid mit den Verschleppten zu spüren, ohne dass deshalb die Gerechtigkeit Gottes letztlich in Zweifel gezogen würde. Dass die Hasmonäer selbstverständlich in der pauschalen Schelte mit einbegriffen sind, braucht nicht bestritten zu werden, aber sie werden nicht besonders hervorgehoben—sie sind genauso schuldig und daher Gottes Gerechtigkeit unterworfen wie die Frauen und Kinder des Landes. Die eigentlich negative Rolle hat Pompeius, der sein Mandat überschreitet. Sein Tod wird in PsSal 2 ausführlich gefeiert; auch PsSal 8 63) Vgl. für diese zeitliche und kontextuelle Einordnung der Davidstradition Pomykala, The Davidic Dynasty Tradition; Johannes Tromp, “The Davidic Messiah in Jewish Eschatology of the First Century BCE,” in Restoration. Old Testament, Jewish, and Christian Perspectives (ed. James M. Scott; JSJSup 72; Leiden: Brill, 2001), 179-201.

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passt in dieses Bild, in dem ein spezifisch hasmonäischer Sündenfall nicht enthalten ist.64 Der Blick nach Qumran erfordert den Vergleich mit 4QpNah, wo man vielleicht eine antipharisäische, jedoch schwerlich eine antihasmonäische Darstellung der Eroberung Jerusalems ausmachen kann, die im übrigen wie in den PsSal als gerechtfertigt erscheint.65 Einzig PsSal 17:1-10 weichen von diesem Geschichtsbild ab. Erst die Herrschaft

64) Entsprechend halte ich die häufig zu findende Behauptung, auch in PsSal 2 und 8 würden die Hasmonäer als die Hauptschuldigen der Eroberung ausgemacht, für eine unzulässige Übertragung der aus PsSal 17:1-10 entnommenen Deutung. PsSal 2 hat Kritik an den “Söhnen Jerusalems” (V. 3; 11), aber auch an ihren Töchtern (V. 13). Die Gerechtigkeit Gottes erweist sich erneut in der Bestrafung der Sünder (V. 7), dass diese aber mit den Hasmonäern, genauer mit Hyrkanos II. und Aristobulos II., zu identifizieren seien, will mir nicht einleuchten—zumal wenn Shani Berrin (“Pesher Nahum, Psalms of Solomon and Pompey,” in Reworking the Bible: Apocryphal and Related Texts at Qumran [ed. Esther G. Chazon, Devorah Dimant, und Ruth A. Clements; STDJ 58; Leiden: Brill, 2005], 65-84, hier 82) als Argument lediglich anführen kann, die “Söhne Jerusalems” seien sicher die “Söhne Salomes”! PsSal 2 trifft keine Unterscheidung innerhalb der jüdischen Gesellschaft (auch Atkinson, I Cried to the Lord, 58-59; 65-66 geht zu weit, wenn er aus der Betonung der Verunreinigung des Opferkults auf die Priesteraristokratie, d.h. für ihn wie für andere die Sadduzäer, schließt). Das Volk, die Söhne und Töchter Jerusalems, ist sündhaft gewesen und wird bestraft (richtig hierzu Winninge, Sinners and the Righteous, 34). Auch für PsSal 4 halte ich die Identifikation der Sünder mit den Hasmonäern und ihren vermeintlich sadduzäischen Gefolgsleuten keineswegs für eine “inescapable conclusion” (Winninge ebd., 55), sondern für einen Schluss, der ohne PsSal 17:1-10 niemandem hätte einfallen können. PsSal 8:16-17 schließlich bereitet insofern Probleme, dass hier ausdrücklich die ἄρχοντες τῆς γῆς (vgl. PsSal 17:12!) Pompeius entgegen gehen und ihn freundlich empfangen. Doch das liegt daran, dass Gott den Sündern, die V. 9-13; 20-22 in inklusiven Formulierungen beschrieben werden, einen Trank der Verwirrung gemischt hat (V. 14), d.h. die Sündhaftigkeit des ganzen Volkes ist der Grund für die Fehleinschätzung ihrer Anführer, die deshalb gerade nicht in besonderer Weise sündhaft sind. Wenn V. 22 von den “Einwohnern Jerusalems” sagt, sie seien sündhaft wie ihre Vorfahren gewesen, widerspricht eine Deutung der “Sünder” als hasmonäisch dem klaren Sinn des Textes. Die teilweise wörtlichen Parallelen (vgl. noch PsSal 2:1 ἐν τῷ ὑπερηφανεύεσθαι mit PsSal 17:13: ἐν αλλοτριότητι ὁ ἐχθρὸς ἐποίησεν ὑπερηφανίαν) zwischen PsSal 17:11-20 und den PsSal 2 und 8 machen es wahrscheinlich, dass der Teil von PsSal 17, der von Pompeius spricht, zusammen mit den anderen Psalmen, die das tun, entstanden ist. Da PsSal 2:26-29 sehr deutlich seinen Tod beschreibt, erscheint 48 v. Chr. als terminus post quem, aber die Verse sind—gerade im Anschluss an V. 25—der späteren Interpolation verdächtig. 65) Zu 4QpNah 3-4 als antipharisäische Deutung der Eroberung Jerusalems vgl. Berrin, “Pesher Nahum.” Auch 1QpHab 9:4-7 verknüpft die Eroberung durch die Römer nicht kausal mit den Sünden der Hasmonäer.

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des Herodes ermöglicht es der Gemeinde hinter PsSal 17, die Hasmonäer als das herausragende sündhafte Element der Jerusalemer Gesellschaft und ihre Beseitigung durch Herodes als Akt göttlicher Gerechtigkeit zu deuten. Erst die Herrschaft des Herodes ist es auch, die zu einer Deutung hasmonäischer Herrschaft führt, die deren dynastische Legitimität unter Rekurs auf das Davidsversprechen bestreitet. Über die Gründe für diese Entwicklung kann nur spekuliert werden. Herodianische Propaganda wird man in PsSal 17:1-10 kaum erkennen dürfen66; man hätte Herodes nicht als “Fremden” bezeichnen müssen und dies vor allem dann auch gar nicht tun dürfen, wenn man der offiziellen Darstellung des Herodes als Abkömmling ältester jüdischer Familien verpflichtet gewesen wäre. Denkbar ist dagegen, dass erst die Inbesitznahme des Throns durch einen Idumäer/Edomiter trotz Dtn 23:8 in einer Weise als illegitim begriffen wurde, dass man die davidische Tradition—auf die Herodes selbst zumindest angespielt hat67—gegen den fremden König in Stellung brachte. An diesem neuen Anspruch gemessen mussten dann auch die Hasmonäer als Usurpatoren erscheinen—und Herodes genau die Position einnehmen, die Pompeius in den Versen 11-20 ausfüllt: Die des Werkzeugs zur Bestrafung der Sünder. PsSal 17:1-10 rückt damit in eine bemerkenswerte inhaltliche Nähe zur Assumptio Mosis, die ebenfalls die Hasmonäer und Herodes in gleicher Weise als illegitime Herrscher ansieht, innerhalb dieses Weltbildes aber immer noch in der Lage ist, die Absetzung der Hasmonäer durch Herodes als Ausdruck göttlicher Gerechtigkeit zu deuten. Damit ist zugleich gesagt, dass ein konkreter Anhaltspunkt für die Datierung der Verse 1-10 fehlt, will man sich nicht mit dem argumentum e silentio (der Tod des Herodes wird nicht geschildert) begnügen. PsSal 17:1-10 kann genau wie AssMos ins 1. Jh. n. Chr. gehören und würde dann sogar noch eine weitere grundlegende Umgestaltung judäischer Verhältnisse voraussetzen, die wiederum die Bewertung des 66)

So jedoch Samuel Rocca, “Josephus and the Psalms of Solomon on Herod’s Messianic Aspirations: An Interpretation,” in Making History. Josephus and Historical Method (ed. Zuleika Rodgers; JSJSup 110; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 313-333, dessen etwas verwirrender Argumentation ich nicht folgen kann, zumal V. 7 nicht berücksichtigt wird. 67) Gegen die heute wieder vorherrschende Meinung glaube ich nicht, dass Herodes eine “davidische” Herrschaftslegitimation forciert hat. Eine unverbindliche Nähe ist jedoch durch die Verschönerung des Davidsgrabs, womöglich auch durch den Tempelbau angezeigt. Vgl. Benedikt Eckhardt, “Herodes und die Hasmonäer. Strategien dynastischer (De)Legitimation in Judäa 168-4 v. Chr.,” in Günther, ed., Herodes und Jerusalem, 23-46, hier 39-41.

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Herodes beeinflusst haben muss. Spätestens hier freilich ist der Raum für plausible Rekonstruktion ausgeschöpft.

Fazit 1. PsSal 17 ist aus mindestens zwei, vermutlich drei Teilen zusammengesetzt; V. 1-10 setzen die Herrschaft des Herodes voraus, sind also wohl später entstanden als V. 11-20. V. 21-46 erscheinen als der jüngste Teil. 2. Es gibt keinen Hinweis darauf, dass die Hasmonäer in der zeitgenössischen Deutung in besonderer Weise für die Eroberung Jerusalems durch Pompeius verantwortlich gemacht werden konnten, wie es etwa Josephus später getan hat. Der einzige Beleg für eine solche Position wäre PsSal 17:1-10, wenn man den Fremden als Pompeius deutete. 3. Ebenso fehlt ein Hinweis darauf, dass irgendein zeitgenössischer Jude die Eroberung des Pompeius freudig begrüßt hätte, weil mit ihr die Absetzung der Hasmonäerdynastie einherging. 4. Die Kombination von Hohepriester- und Königtum scheint in PsSal 17:6 ebenso problematisiert zu werden wie in AssMos 6:1. Beide Texte setzen das Ende der Hasmonäerdynastie bereits voraus, andere Belege gibt es allenfalls aus Qumran. Es ist denkbar, dass erst in der Rückschau nach 63 bzw. auch erst nach 4 v. Chr. diesem Argument eine besondere Bedeutung zukam. 5. Zumindest in den PsSal wird erst unter dem Eindruck herodianischer Herrschaft die Davidstradition gegen die Hasmonäer ausgespielt. In Qumran hat man diese Gegenüberstellung nur indirekt ausfindig machen können. Angesichts der dort notorischen Datierungsprobleme wäre auch hier die Frage neu zu erwägen, ob es überhaupt einen vorherodianischen Hinweis darauf gibt, dass die Hasmonäer als Usurpatoren eines David versprochenen Throns gesehen wurden. In diesem Kontext ist zu erwägen, ob die Wahrnehmung des Herodes als “fremd” den Ausschlag für den Rekurs auf die Davidstradition und die nachträgliche Verurteilung der Hasmonäer gegeben haben kann.

Journal for the Study of Judaism 40 (2009) 493-509

brill.nl/jsj

The Use of Eschatological Lists within the Targumim of the Megilloth1 Christian M. M. Brady Schreyer Honors College, The Pennsylvania State University, 10 Schreyer Honors College, University Park, PA 16802-2114, USA [email protected]

Abstract Several of the Targumim of the Megilloth contain lists (songs, famines, kings, etc.) that culminate in the future Messianic age. For example, Tg. Song opens with the list of Ten Songs and Tg. Ruth opens with the list of Ten Famines. Such lists are well known from other midrashic texts and this article will consider how and why these lists are used in the Targumim of the Megilloth and will propose that these additions are not merely the result of an opportunity presented by the Hebrew text but are being used specifically to further the overarching exegetical agenda of the Targum in question. Keywords Targum, Megilloth, lists, Midrash, Ruth, Song of Songs

The Targumim of the Megilloth are some of the most exegetically expansive Targumim, containing haggadic and midrashic additions that significantly enhance and even alter the meaning of the underlying biblical text. One distinctive addition found in several of the Targumim of the Megilloth is lists (songs, famines, kings, etc.) that culminate in the future Messianic age. For example, Tg. Song opens with the list of Ten Songs and Tg. Ruth opens with the list of Ten Famines. Such lists are well known from other midrashic texts and many of the lists found in the Targumim 1) An early version of this paper was first presented at the 2007 meeting of the International Organization for Targumic Studies in Ljubljana, Slovenia. I am grateful for the comments and contributions of those who were present and for the assistance of Jonathan Greer and Matthew Sjoberg, my graduate assistants for 2007-8 and 2008-9 respectively.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2009

DOI: 10.1163/157006309X443477

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of the Megilloth have parallels in other rabbinic sources.2 In this study I will consider how and why these particular lists are used in the Targumim of the Megilloth. Furthermore, I will propose that these additions are not merely the result of an opportunity presented by the Hebrew text, but are being used specifically to further the overarching exegetical agenda of the Targum in question.

The Megilloth While the Megilloth are now considered a unit within Jewish tradition, clear evidence of the collection and ordering of the Megilloth together within the Hagiographa is relatively late. The Babylonian Talmud Berakhot 57b lists four of the five scrolls as a group,3 but our earliest reference to the Megilloth as a unit is in the Leningrad Codex (1008 C.E.), albeit ordered following the presumptive chronology of the books’ composition. The Rabbinic Bible (1525 C.E.) groups the Five Scrolls together and orders them according to the cycle of festivals as it occurs throughout the liturgical year, the order found in modern editions: Song of Songs, Ruth, Lamentations, Qohelet, and Esther.4 Exactly when the Scrolls began to be used liturgically is also unclear and we can be fairly confident that there was no uniformity in their liturgical development. Elbogen offers a very practical reason for assuming the 2)

See Wayne S. Towner, The Rabbinic “Enumeration of Scriptural Examples” (Leiden: Brill, 1973). 3) The context is not a discussion of canon, but rather of dreams. The listing of all the Megilloth except Ruth together is significant. “There are three smaller books of the Hagiographa [significant for dreams]. If one sees the Songs of Songs in a dream, he may hope for piety; if Ecclesiastes, he may hope for wisdom; if Lamentations, let him fear for punishment; and one who sees the Scroll of Esther will have a miracle wrought for him,” b. Ber. 57b (I. Epstein, The Babylonian Talmud [London: Soncino, 1961], 355-56). Babylonian Talmud B. Bat. 14b is the locus classicus for considering the canon. All the Megilloth are mentioned, however they are scattered through the rest of the Hagiographa in (the assumed) chronological order. See also Sop.14:3 (40b): “In the case of Ruth, the Song of Songs, Ecclesiastes, Lamentations and Esther, it is necessary to say the benediction, ‘Concerning the reading of the Megillah,’ although it is included in the Hagiographa” (A. Cohen, The Minor Tractates of the Talmud [London: Soncino, 1965], 276). It is likely, however, that this text is medieval. Cf., D. Reed Blank, “It’s Time to Take Another Look at ‘Our Little Sister’ Soferim: A Bibliographical Essay,” JQR 90 (1999-2000): 1-26. 4) For a more detailed discussion of these issues see G. Stemberger, “Die Megillot als Festlesungen der jüdischen Liturgie,” Jahrbuch für biblische Theologie 18 (2003): 261-76.

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reading of the Megilloth in the festival services with which they came to be associated. “The existence of rather ancient midrashim on them testifies to the relatively early introduction of the scrolls.”5 By at least the Geonic period it seems reasonably certain that the Five Scrolls were considered a unit and, in all likelihood, being used by many communities as part of their festal worship. The fact that most scholars view the Targumim of the Megilloth as quite late suggests that these texts developed at roughly the same time as the biblical texts were being incorporated into synagogal worship.6

Exegetical Sphere Once these texts became a part of the liturgy, and given the precedence set by the reading of Esther in m. Meg. 4:4, it seems likely that the Targum of the given text would also have been read in toto, either with the Scripture reading as part of the synagogal service, or as part of study during the period of the festal observation.7 The fact that each of the Five Scrolls are relatively short would also suggest that as the targumic tradition developed and was redacted we might expect to find that the Targum 5)

Ismar Elbogen, Jewish Liturgy: A Comprehensive History (trans. Raymond P. Scheindlin; Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1993), 150. 6) The textual history and dating of these texts is extremely difficult, but there is a general consensus. Tg. Song most likely dates to the seventh or eighth c. C.E. (Philip S. Alexander, The Targum of Canticles [The Aramaic Bible 17a; Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 2003], 55). Levine suggests that there are early, perhaps even pre-Mishnaic, halakhic traditions in Tg. Ruth, but dates the final form to the seventh or eighth c. C.E. (Étan Levine, The Aramaic Version of Ruth [Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1973], 13). Similarly, although Tg. Lam contains early interpretive traditions the final form of Tg. Lam is certainly no earlier than the sixth c. C.E. and most likely dates the eighth c. C.E. (Christian M. M. Brady, “The Date, Provenance, and Sitz im Leben of Targum Lamentations,” JAB 1 [1999]: 5-29). The date of Tg. Qoh is most likely the seventh c. C.E. (Peter S. Knobel, The Targum of Qohelet [The Aramaic Bible 15; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1991], 15). Esther has two Targumim and dating them is as difficult as any of the other Targumim of the Megilloth, but both Targumim to Esther are also to be dated to the seventh c. C.E. (Bernard Grossfeld, The Two Targums of Esther [The Aramaic Bible 18; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1992], 21). 7) Alexander suggests that while Tg. Song may have been intended for public reading, “Tg. Cant. seems in fact to have functioned more commonly as an aid to private devotion,” Canticles, 54. On the Sitz im Leben of the Targumim in general see Alexander, “Jewish Aramaic Translations of Hebrew Scriptures,” in Mikra: Text, Translation, reading and Interpretation of the Hebrew Bible in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity (ed. Martin Jan Mulder and Harry Sysling; CRINT 2.1; Assen: Van Gorcum, 1988), 217-253 at 238-41.

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is able to provide a sustained and directed interpretation of the work as a whole unit, rather than the more ad hoc interpretation found in larger targumic texts or the midrashic collections. This has already been demonstrated with respect to Tg. Lam8 and Tg. Song.9 There are, in fact, a number of exegetical similarities between the Targumim of the Megilloth, as Levine has noted in his introduction to Tg. Ruth.10 Given the dissimilarity between the five biblical texts, the appearance of these common exegetical techniques within their Targumim strongly implies a relationship between them. Levine lists fourteen such “affinities,” all of which are exegetical in nature and the first in his list is “ten events in history, the tenth being eschatological.”11 It is this particularly exegetical maneuver, that of creating lists and specifically eschatological lists whose final item is related to the Messianic age, that is the subject of this study. These additions are not merely the result of an opportunity presented by the Hebrew text but are used specifically to further the overarching exegetical agenda of the Targum in question.

Eschatological Lists The practice of creating lists is common within rabbinic literature and lists of ten are frequent.12 They are varied and various in terms of content, context, and purpose. Such lists are found also in the Targumim. Within the Targumim of the Megilloth there are four such lists that conclude with an eschatological element, three which enumerate ten items and one that lists six.13 The first three are the Ten Songs in Tg. Song, the Ten Famines in Tg. Ruth, and the Ten Kingdoms in Tg. Esth. II. Each of these three lists is characterized by the fact that (1) they include ten items; (2) each end with an eschatological figure/event; and (3) each list serves as a prologue to the Targum in question. Tg. Ruth also contains a second 8)

See Christian M. M. Brady, The Rabbinic Targum of Lamentations: Vindicating God (Leiden: Brill, 2002), 4-16. 9) Alexander, Canticles, 13, and passim. 10) Levine, Ruth, 3. See below passim. 11) Ibid. 12) See, for example, ʾAbot R. Nat. A chs. 34-35 which contain ten lists of tens. 13) Some MSS of Tg. Esth. II 1:1 also contain a list of ten; the five righteous and the five wicked concerning whom the term ‫ הוא‬was written. The MSS are quite varied; most only have four righteous ones, but the list does not contain any eschatological element. See Grossfeld, The Two Targums, 99.

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eschatological list that presents the Six Descendants of Ruth which culminates with the “king Messiah.”

Tg. Song Tg. Song opens with the midrash of the Ten Songs, a listing of songs recited from the Creation of the world up to the final song that will be recited at the culmination of history when Israel shall return from her exile. This list has received more scholarly attention than any other that we are considering14 and is found in more than ten different sources.15 The earliest of these texts is Mekilta deRabbi Ishmael, dating from the late fourth or fifth c. C.E., and the latest is Yalqut Makhiri on Isaiah, from approximately the 14th c. C.E.16 The Targum begins as follows. Songs and praises which Solomon, the prophet, the king of Israel, recited in the holy spirit before the Sovereign of all the World, the Lord. Ten songs were recited in this world; this song is the most excellent of them all. The first song was recited by Adam when his sin was forgiven him and the Sabbath day came and protected him. He opened his mouth and said: “A psalm, a song for the Sabbath day” (Ps 92:1). The second song was recited by Moses, together with the Children of Israel, on the day when the Lord at the World divided for them the Red Sea. They

14) The most recent treatment of the targumic text is in Alexander, Canticles. See especially 15-16 and Appendix A (206-9) as well as the translation and commentary op. cit. For discussion of the broader tradition see Haggai Ben-Shammai, “‫נשכח יד בכתב גאון סעדיה‬ ‫שתיים שהיא אחת מציאה‬: ‫ ”לרב ויושע ופירוש חפני בן שמואל לרב האזינו פירוש‬Qiryat Sefer 61 (1986-87): 313-32; and James L. Kugel, “Is There But One Song?” Biblica 63 (1982): 329-50. 15) See Alexander, Canticles, 206. Alexander lists the nine “major sources” as Mekhilta deRabbi Ishmael, Shirta 1 (Mek), Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimʿon b. Yoḥai (MRS), Midrash haGadol to Exod 15:1 (MHG), Leqaḥ Tov to Exod 15:1 (LT), Yalqut ha-Makhiri to Ps 18:1 (YMp), Yalqut Shimʿoni to Exod (YSe), Yalqut Shimʿoni to Josh (YSj), Aggadat Shir haShirim (ASH), and Saʿadya’s commentary to Wayyoshaʿ. The list of songs can also be found in two secondary sources, a responsum of Hai Gaon, addressing a question regarding Saʿadya’s treatment of the list, and Yalqut ha-Makhiri to Isa 5:1. 16) Unless otherwise noted, dates of rabbinic works follow that of Günter Stemberger, Introduction to the Talmud and Midrash (trans. Markus Bockmuehl; 2d ed.; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996).

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all opened their mouths in unison and recited a song, as it is written: “Then sang Moses and the Children of Israel this song” (Exod 15:1). The third song was recited by the Children of Israel when the well of water was given to them, as it is written, “Then sang Israel this song” (Num 21:17). The fourth song was recited by Moses the prophet when his time had come to depart from the world, and he reproved with it the people of the house of Israel, as it is written: “Give ear, O heavens, and 1 will speak” (Deut 32:1). The fifth song was recited by Joshua the son of Nun, when he waged war against Gibeon and the sun and the moon stood still for him for thirty-six hours. They ceased reciting [their] song, and he opened his mouth and recited [his] song, as it is written: “Then sang Joshua before the Lord” (Josh 10:12). The sixth song was recited by Barak and Deborah on the day when the Lord delivered Sisera and his host into the hand of the Children of Israel, as it is written: “And Deborah and Barak the son of Abinoam sang” (Judg 5:1). The seventh song was recited by Hannah, when a son was granted her from before the Lord, as it is written: “Hannah prayed in prophecy and said” (1 Sam 2:1). The eighth song was recited by David, king of Israel, concerning all the wonders which the Lord wrought for him. He opened his mouth and recited the song, as it is written: “David sang in prophecy before the Lord” (2 Sam 22:1). The ninth song was recited by Solomon, the king of Israel, in the holy spirit before the Sovereign of all the World, the Lord. The tenth song will be recited by the children of the exile when they depart from their exiles, as is clearly written by Isaiah the prophet: “You shall have this song of joy, as on the night when the festival of Passover is sanctified, and [you shall have] gladness of heart, like the people who go to appear before the Lord three times in the year with all kinds of musical instruments and [with] the sound of the pipe, [who go] ascend into the Mountain of the Lord, and to worship before the Mighty One of Israel” (Isa 30:29).17

The presence of this midrash in Tg. Song is predicated upon the two opening words of the biblical work: ‫שיר השירים‬. These are quite similar to the opening words of Exod 15:1 (‫ )את־השירה הזאת‬upon which Mek. is commenting when this midrash is introduced in that work. In both cases the commentary begins by asserting that there is not simply “this song,” but rather there are ten songs. In the case of Tg. Song, the assertion is made that this is the best song. “Ten songs were recited in this world; this song is the most excellent of them all.” This assertion of excellence is based upon a reading of the Hebrew ‫ שיר השירים‬as expressing a superlative. 17)

Alexander, Canticles, 75-79. All translations of Tg. Song are from Alexander.

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The Targum proceeds to list the nine other songs that make up the ten, beginning with the Song of Adam and culminating with the final song that “will be recited by the children of exile when they return from their exiles.”18 The list of Ten Songs thus depicts the history of Israel from Creation through to the Messianic age when all of dispersed Israel shall return to Zion “to worship before the Mighty One of Israel.” Alexander has noted that this is an overarching theme of the Targum19 and this opening list sets the tone for the Targumist’s exegetical agenda. The songs listed are:20 The Song of Adam21 The Song at the Sea22 The Song of the Well23 The Song of Moses24 The Song of Joshua25 The Song of Deborah and Barak26 The Song of Hannah27 The Song of David28 18) With the tenth song the Targumist invokes Isa 30:29, equating the feast mentioned by the prophet as that of Passover. 19) “The analogy between the Exodus from Egypt and the final exodus of the Jews from the exile at the beginning of the Messianic redemption is picked up again and again in Tg. Cant.” Alexander, Canticles, 77. 20) For each song I will list the biblical passage referenced in Tg. Song along with the other traditions that included that particular song in its list of ten and the biblical text they reference, if any. For a complete table of each source and which “songs” they cite see Alexander, Canticles, 208-9. For a list of abbreviations see n. 15. 21) Ps 92:1—ASH, YMi, Tg. Song. 22) Exod 15:1—Mek, MRS, LT, MHG, ASH, YS, YMp, YMi, HG, Tg. Song. 23) Num 21:17—Mek, MRS, LT, MHG, ASH, YS, YMp, YMi, HG, Tg. Song. 24) ASH, YMi.

a. Deut 31:24—Mek, MRS, YS, YMp. b. Deut 32:1—LT, Tg. Song. c. Deut 31:30—MHG, HG. 25) 26) 27) 28)

Josh 10:12—Mek, MRS, LT, MHG, ASH, YS, YMp, YMi, HG, Tg. Song. Judg 5:1—Mek, MRS, LT, MHG, ASH, YS, YMp, YMi, HG, Tg. Song 1 Sam 2:1—Tg. Song ASH, YMi. a. 2 Sam 22:1—Mek, MRS, LT, MHG, Tg. Song.

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The Song of Solomon29 The Song of the World to Come30 Alexander has demonstrated quite clearly that this first verse, understood by the Targumist as a title, serves as an introduction to Tg. Song and the Ten Songs establishes the framework that will be followed in the Targumist’s exposition of Song of Songs.31 The entire Targum follows the Heilsgeschichte of Israel from the Exodus (song two in the list of Ten Songs and Tg. Song 1:3-5:1) to the coming redemption of Israel in the Messianic Era (song ten and Tg. Song 7:12ff ). Yet if this is the exegetical plan and schema of Tg. Song why did the Targumist begin his list of songs before the Exodus, reaching all the way back to Creation and the Song of Adam? Alexander finds this perplexing since Mek., our earliest source for this midrash and a source clearly known to our Targumist,32 begins his list of Ten Songs with the Song of the First Passover and ends with the Song of the World to Come. Since, Alexander argues, Tg. Song traces Israel’s history from the Exodus to the Messianic Age Mek.’s form of the midrash of the Ten Songs would seem perfect for the Targumist’s purposes. And yet Tg. Song alters Mek.’s list and begins with the “Song of Adam.” Alexander concludes, It is true that the Targumist manages to work in the Song of the First Passover obliquely by making Isa 30:29 the Song of the World to Come, but it is still puzzling why he chooses to jump chronologically backwards to the cre-

b. Ps 30:1—YS. c. Ps 18:1—YMp (Ps 18.1 is the base text of this version of the list), HG. 29)

a. Ps 30:1—Mek, MRS, MHG, YMp, HG. b. Song—ASH, YMi, Tg. Song. c. Ps 30:1—LT. LT does not actually ascribe Ps. 30 to anyone, but it maintains the position in the list immediately following the song of David, as we found in all the other sources, so it is reasonable to assume that the reader is intended to understand the author to be Solomon. d. 1 Kgs 8:12—YS.

30)

Isa 42:10—Mek, MRS, LT, MHG, ASh, YS, YMp, YMi, ThG, Tg. Song. Alexander, Canticles, 15-6. See Alexander, Canticles, 207, and the notes passim.

31) 32)

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ation by beginning with the Song of Adam—a move that appears to have forced him to introduce the anomalous “Song of Hannah.”33

This may be puzzling but the addition of both the Song of Adam and the Song of Hannah can be satisfactorily explained. The simplest answer as to why the Targumist went back to Creation for his first song may be that he wanted completeness. After all, the Targum presents the Heilsgeschichte of Israel and one could certainly argue that Bible presents the history of Israel and her redemption beginning with the dawn of human history and God’s interaction with Adam and Eve. Furthermore, when we consider Ps 92, the basis of the first song, and its interpretation in midrashic tradition we find that the Song of Adam is an excellent starting point for our Targumist’s purpose. The Targum reads, The first song was recited by Adam when his sin was forgiven him and the Sabbath day came and protected him. He opened his mouth and said: “A psalm, a song for the Sabbath day” (Ps 92:1).34

The best source available for the tradition of Adam uttering Ps 92 on the first Sabbath is to be found in Pirqe R. El. 18 which dates to the eighth or ninth c. C.E. According to the tradition, Adam was driven out of the Garden on the evening between the sixth and seventh days, but when the Sabbath came it sought to defend Adam before God. The Sabbath day arrived and became an advocate for the first man, and it spake before Him: Sovereign of all worlds! No murderer has been slain in the world during the six days of creation, and wilt Thou commence (to do this) with me? Is this sanctity, and is this blessing? as it is said, “And God blessed the seventh day, and hallowed it” (Gen 2:3). By the merit of the Sabbath day Adam was saved from the judgement of Gehinnom. When Adam perceived the power of the Sabbath, he said: Not for nought did the Holy One, blessed be He, bless and hallow the Sabbath day. He began to observe [first editions: “to sing”] (the Sabbath) and to utter a psalm for the Sabbath day, and he said: “A psalm, a song for the Sabbath day” (Ps 92:1). Rabbi Simeon said: The first man said this psalm, and it was forgotten throughout all the generations until Moses came and renewed it according to his name.35 33) 34) 35)

Ibid. Alexander, Canticles, p. 76. Gerald Friedlander, Pirke deRabbi Eliezer (New York: Hermon Press, 1965), XVIII, 125-26.

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Due to the “merit of the Sabbath day” Adam was saved from destruction. The “merit of the righteous,” as Alexander has pointed out, is a key theological theme of Tg. Song.36 For this reason Adam bursts forth in song, praising God and thereby appropriating the Sabbath for himself and is thus reconciled to God. Psalm 92 is a hymn praising God for his mighty works and speaks of the psalmist’s enemies being defeated and the righteous flourishing. Pirqe R. El. reads verse one as, “it is good to confess37 (‫ )להדות‬to the Lord” and thereby equates the Sabbath with the repentance of Adam. The first man said: Let all the generations learn from me, that whosoever sings and utters psalms to the name of the Most High, and confesses his transgressions in the court of justice and abandons (them) will be delivered from the judgement of Gehinnom, as it is said, “It is good to confess to the Lord.”

It is thus appropriate that the Targumist should begin his list of songs with the Song of Adam, Ps 92, and all its accompanying exegetical traditions. It certainly adds to the theme begun by Mek. with the strong message of the need for man’s confession and God’s forgiveness and the song of Adam does seem more appropriate for the beginning of a history of God’s people. More importantly, Ps 92 and the Song of Adam fit into the exegetical agenda of Tg. Song. Alexander has pointed out that the Targumist interprets the Song of Songs as a series of cycles of Israel’s “communion, estrangement, and reconciliation.”38 This reconciliation is achieved through the merits of the righteous. The mere reference to this midrashic tradition of Ps 92 concerning Adam contains all of these elements: the communion of Adam and Eve with God in the Garden, their estrangement due to their rebellion, and Adam’s salvation from Gehinnom by the merits of the Sabbath. It is therefore likely that the Targumist was quite intentional in beginning his list with the Song of Adam. The other primary change to this list as compared with Mek. is the seventh song being attributed to Hannah. No other sources of the Midrash of the Ten Songs includes the Song of Hannah at any point; Tg. Song is unique in this respect. Alexander believes, as I already noted, that it is the 36) 37) 38)

Alexander, Canticles, 21-2. Translated as “to give thanks” in most English versions. Alexander, Canticles, 27.

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result of the Targumist having begun his list at Creation that requires him “to introduce the anomalous ‘Song of Hannah.’”39 It is likely that there is an even stronger reason to suppose that the addition of this song is quite intentional on the part of the Targumist. (Remember, this first verse is viewed as a title by the Targumist and therefore he might feel able to introduce quite a bit of “introductory” material that would not otherwise fit into his tight exegetical schema.) The seventh song was recited by Hannah, when a son was granted to her from before the Lord, as it is written: “Hannah prayed in prophecy and said” (1 Sam 2:1).40

The fact that the canonical status of the Song of Songs (as well as Proverbs and Qohelet) was at one time in great debate led the Targumist, as with other rabbinic sources, to assert the inspiration and therefore appropriateness of these texts. Tg. Song begins “Songs and praises which Solomon, the prophet, the king of Israel, recited in the holy spirit before the Sovereign of all the World, the Lord.”41 The Targumist has bolstered this presentation of Solomon’s prophetic credentials by including Hannah’s song in his list of Ten. Solomon is thus presented as being in line with the prophets who preceded him. Considering the list as a whole, the Targumist refers to Moses as “the Prophet” in the fourth song, in the seventh song Hannah speaks in prophecy while alluding to the birth of the prophet Samuel, in the eighth song David is said to have sung “in prophecy before the Lord,” and in the ninth song, the Targumist again asserts Solomon’s inspiration. The ninth song was recited by Solomon, the king of Israel, in the holy spirit before the Sovereign of all the World, the Lord.42

The ninth song is set forth briefly, but the description of Solomon having been inspired is decisive and is followed in the next verse as “Solomon the prophet” begins his exposition of the text. Clearly the Targumist is 39)

Ibid. Alexander, Canticles, 77. 41) Likewise Tg. Qoh, “The words of prophecy which Qohelet, that is, Solomon, the son of David the king who was in Jerusalem, prophesied,” (Knobel, Targum of Qohelet, 20). Cf. Cant. Rab. 1:1 and Qoh. Rab. 1:1. 42) Alexander, Canticles, 77. 40)

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identifying Solomon as having received these words from God and the addition of Hannah’s Song is an effort to provide a fuller prophetic context into which Solomon is to be placed.43 Thus Solomon and his song is placed firmly within a legacy of prophecy. The list of the Ten Songs clearly serves as an introduction to the Tg. Song and sets the Targumist’s tone and agenda. The presence of the Song of Adam and the Song of Hannah, though unexpected when this list is compared to its antecedent in Mek., also serves specific purposes within Tg. Song. The list as an entity functions as most of the eschatological lists we will examine by setting forth the Heilsgeschichte of Israel that will culminate in the establishment of God’s order, in this case, characterized by the return of Israel from the nations to worship the Lord in Jerusalem.

Tg. Esth. II The second Targum of Esther is a notoriously problematic text. Its date and provenance are difficult to discern and its commentary seems too wide-ranging and opportunistic to contain any kind of programmatic exegesis. Tg. Esth. II is in fact so periphrastic and contains so many midrashic traditions while largely ignoring the usual targumic conventions that it almost justifies Sperber classifying TgEsth “a misnomer for Midrash.”44 The fact that the list of Ten Kings does not occur in Tg. Esth. I or Est. Rab. means that we are unable to make any firm statements regarding the relationship of this midrashic tradition to the book of Esther.45 A list of ten kings and kingdoms is a fitting addition since the book of Esther itself 43) See also Tg. Song 1:2 where the Targumist refers to Solomon himself as “the prophet.” I would also note that Hannah provides a biblical example of someone who did not ordinarily prophesy and yet at that one time spoke “in the holy spirit.” 44) Alexander Sperber, The Bible in Aramaic (Leiden: Brill, 1968), 4a:169. Grossfeld does point out that Tg. Esth. II exhibits many targumic translation characteristics, but those are more exceptions than the rule with regards to Tg. Esth. II (The Two Targums, 8-12). His chart on the relationship between Tg. Esth. and Jewish exegesis on the following pages is even more illustrative of the character of the text. 45) The closest parallel to this particular list is found in Pirqe R. El. 11, “Ten kings ruled from one end of the world to the other.” Grossfeld, The Two Targums, also lists the differences between these two lists in Table 1 on p. 204. Note that in his table Grossfeld inverts kingdoms seven and eight; they should read Rome and Greece, as above and in his translation.

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is in many ways preoccupied with this notion as evidenced by the fact that some form of *‫ מלך‬occurs 251 times in the book.46 The Targum reads as follows: Now it came to pass in the days of Xerxes, he is Xerxes, one of the ten kings who ruled and were destined (to rule). Now these are the ten kings. The first kingdom that rules is that of the LORD of Hosts—may it be speedily revealed to us. The second kingdom is that of Nimrod, the third is that of the Pharaoh, the fourth kingdom is that of Israel, the fifth is that of Nebukhadnezzar, king of Babylonia, the sixth that of Xerxes, the seventh that of Rome, the eighth that of Greece, the ninth that of the son David, the Messiah, the tenth that of the LORD of Hosts again, may it be speedily revealed to all the inhabitants of the earth.47

The reference in the opening of Esther to “the days of Xerxes” (‫)בימי אחשורוש‬ is the trigger for the introduction of this list into the Targumist’s commentary. As noted, given the book of Esther’s preoccupation with queens, kings, and kingdoms it is not surprising that we should find such a midrashic tradition inserted here. What is not as clear is whether it serves as an introduction to the work as a whole in the same manner that the Ten Songs does for Tg. Song. It certainly does not seem to provide an historical framework for the subsequent interpretation of the text since Tg. Esth. II regularly moves back and forth across the historical time line, moving from Nebuchadnezzar to Xerxes to Cain (1:2) to Solomon and so on, stringing one midrash after another. What this list does have in common with the others we are examining is that it covers the entire range of history, from its inception to its completion, and the list contains 10 items.48 In the case of this list, the first and last kingdoms are really one and the same, that of the Lord of Hosts. This is particularly interesting since the Targumist does not end with the Messianic Age but sees that as merely (presumably) a time of restoration of Israel’s status and so he looks beyond it to the time when the Lord’s kingdom/rule will be established once and for all. Regardless of whether or not Tg. Esth. II follows a clear literary structure outlined by this list, the insertion of this list of kingdoms, like the kingdoms described in Dan 7, is intended to demonstrate to the audience 46) I want to thank Moshe Bernstein who pointed this out to me. There are 251 instances of *‫ מלך‬in the text as opposed to only 167 total verses. 47) Grossfeld, The Two Targums, 96-97. 48) All but one list under consideration have ten items, see Tg. Ruth below.

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that their current place in history is just prior to that of the coming of the Messiah. The lists of kingdoms beginning and ending with the kingdom of the Lord of Hosts is an exhortation of encouragement to the audience and, in this list particularly, a reminder that it is God who ordains history and will complete it. The presence of the list at the beginning of the Targum, while not providing a template for the interpretation of the entire biblical text, establishes for the Targumist’s audience the tone and context within which Esther should be interpreted.

Tg. Ruth The book of Ruth opens with a formula similar to that of Esther. ‫ויהי בימי‬ ‫“ שפט השפטים‬In the days when the judges ruled,” but it is the reference to the famine that provides the opportunity for the Targumist to consider the history of God dealing with his people. Famine was a common reality of the biblical world and famines were often mentioned in the biblical text. It was thus relatively straightforward for the Targumist to create a list of Ten Famines. It happened in the days of the judge of judges that there was a severe famine in the land of Israel. Ten severe famines were ordained by Heaven to be in the world, from the day that the world was created until the time that the king Messiah should come, by which to reprove the inhabitants of the earth. The first famine was in the days of Adam, the second famine was in the days of Lamech, the third famine was in the days of Abraham. The fourth famine was in the days of Isaac, the fifth famine was in the days of Jacob, the sixth famine was in the days of Boaz, who is called Ibzan the Righteous, who was from Bethlehem, Judah. The seventh famine was in the days of David, the king of Israel, the eighth famine was in the days of Elijah the prophet, the ninth famine was in the days of Elisha in Samaria. The tenth famine is to be in the future, not a famine of eating bread nor a drought of drinking water, but of hearing the word of prophecy from before the Lord.49

The origins of this midrashic tradition are not likely related specifically to the book of Ruth since a near-identical list of famines can be found in other, earlier midrashic texts.50 As with the other lists considered in this 49)

D. R. G. Beattie, The Targum of Ruth (The Aramaic Bible 19; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994), 18. 50) Gen. Rab. 25:3, 40:3, and 64:2; Ruth Rab. 1:4; and Midr. Sam (Buber) 28:3.

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study, the list of famines begins in the time of Adam and culminates in the final days, moving from the creation of history to its completion. The listing of these famines echoes the famous and obvious pattern of the book of Ruth. Ruth begins with famine and ends with plenty and in the middle there is its antithesis as Naomi tells the women of Bethlehem, “I went away full, but the Lord has brought me back empty” (Ruth 1:21). Nachman Levine has a detailed study of this list and its role within Tg. Ruth.51 In it he argues that in the case of this list the number ten has its precedent in the book of Ruth itself which begins with reference to ten names of people associated with famine and barrenness and ends with reference to ten names associated with plenty and redemption. And of course the book of Ruth concludes with a listing of ten generations that culminates with the birth of David. While we have already seen that two other Targumim among the Megilloth open with an eschatological list, in Tg. Ruth the position and nature of this list is particularly relevant to the biblical text being rendered. The Targum, by beginning with a list of ten, provides an opening that parallels the end of the work, and the choice of listing famines is most fitting for this book that revolves around this theme. It is particularly important to note that we are told right at the beginning of this list for what purpose God had sent these famines: they were to “reprove the inhabitants of the earth.” Each instance is thus a judgment by God upon the individuals or communities in question. This dictates that the final famine of “hearing the word of prophecy from before the Lord” (a paraphrase of Amos 8:11) is not and cannot be in the Messianic Era,52 but must precede the coming of the “king Messiah.” It is the starvation and privation which both punishes and prepares the community for their redemption. The arrival of the Messiah and his lineage is, of course, intimately tied to the story of Ruth and Tg. Ruth contains another, shorter eschatological list. Tg. Ruth 3:15 reads: [Boaz] said, “Bring the scarf which you are wearing and hold it.” [Ruth] held it, and he measured out six seahs of barley and put them on it. Strength and 51) Nachman Levine, “Ten Hungers/Six Barleys: Structure and Redemption in the Targum to Ruth,” JSJ 30 (1999): 312-24. 52) Contra Levine who says that “the tenth final hunger [is] in the time of the King Messiah,” (“Ten Hungers,” 312).

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power were given to her from before the Lord to carry them and immediately it was said to her prophetically that there would descend from her six of the most righteous men of all time, each of whom would be blessed with six blessings: David, Daniel, and his companions, and the king Messiah.53

This midrash is also found in b. Sanh. 93ab and Ruth Rab. 7:2 and arises out of the discussion of whether or not Ruth could physically carry six seahs of grain, thus the list is confined to only six individuals.54 The connection with her descendants is obvious and to be expected. That it comes at this moment in the story confirms prophetically what Boaz’s gift means, that they will marry and that Ruth will have children. The addition underlines that at the time of Ruth the spirit of prophecy was still active, perhaps with the lack of prophecy during the earlier “famine” at the beginning of the Targum and the time of the audience/community receiving the Targum. The culmination of this prophecy and Ruth’s line is, of course, the king Messiah. The community is thus living during the time of the tenth and final famine. The message to the Targumist’s audience is that the famine of prophecy is an indication that the Messiah is coming soon and his arrival is the fulfillment of Ruth and Boaz’s union.

Conclusion Each of these lists that we have examined concludes with the advent of the Messiah and the restoration of God’s order. The content of each list has a similar purpose: they are intended to encourage their own community to steadfastness, to hold firm whatever kingdom or famine may hold sway with the knowledge that the Messiah will soon arrive. In the case of Tg. Ruth, the fact that prophecy has ceased is itself a sign that it is almost “the time when the king Messiah will come.” In all of our lists, the emphasis upon the coming Messianic era places them within a certain context, most likely that of the apocalyptic revival of the early Middle Ages.55 As with earlier apocalyptic works such references were intended to encourage the community to remain faithful and to see themselves as living within a key moment of history, where the Lord’s deliverance was 53)

Beattie, Ruth, 28. For more discussion of the number six and this Targum see Levine, “Ten Hungers,” passim. 55) See Alexander, Canticles, 23, 56-57. 54)

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just around the corner and their own righteous behavior could hasten its arrival. Three of the four lists we have examined serve to open and introduce the Targum in question. Such lists at the beginning of a Targum can indeed help to frame and mold how the reader understands the subsequent work. This means, of course, that a majority of the Targumim of the Megilloth open with an eschatological list, a fact that is at the very least interesting and may suggest a common exegetical approach to these texts, something that is only possible if their present form was achieved after the Megilloth themselves were considered a unit within Jewish tradition. Since the Five Scrolls are themselves very diverse in content and message, the fact that the opening interpretation of three of the Scrolls share a common exegetical form and perspective is highly suggestive and bears further study.

Journal for the Study of Judaism 40 (2009) 510-539

brill.nl/jsj

Aramaic Tombstones from Zoar and Jewish Conceptions of the Afterlife1 Yael Wilfand Duke University, Department of Religion, 118 Gray Building, Box 90964, Durham, NC 27708, USA [email protected]

Abstract This study utilizes thirty epitaphs, found near the Dead Sea shore, to explore afterlife concepts within the Jewish community of Zoar. The interpretation of these late antiquity epitaphs reveals a comprehensive view regarding the afterlife. This view contains an expectation for the resurrection of the dead that will occur when the “announcer of peace,” i.e., the anointed king, arrives. At that time, the Temple will be rebuilt and priests will return to their work. In the meantime, it was hoped that the deceased would have a peaceful rest. The tombstones articulate these expectations also through the use of the word “shalom” which conveys two meanings: (1) it is the symbol of the deliverance, and (2) it is also the symbol of the condition of the dead while waiting for the resurrection. Keywords Zoar, afterlife, shalom, epitaphs, dating formulas, resurrection

Introduction During the last 15 years, scholarly interest in ancient Jewish conceptions of death and the afterlife has grown, and a number of books and articles on the topic have been published. Some of the recent studies focus on inscriptions and archaeological findings, while others focus on written

1)

I would like to thank Eric Meyers who encouraged me to explore the Zoar tombstones in the first place, and Lucas Van Rompay, Keshet Shoval and Laura Lieber for their comments. © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2009

DOI: 10.1163/157006309X443521

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sources, such as rabbinic literature.2 However, no study has utilized the 30 Zoar epitaphs—found near the Dead Sea shore—for the purpose of understanding Jewish conceptions of the afterlife. Therefore, the goal of this study is to use these epitaphs to illuminate the afterlife concepts within the Zoar community. To achieve this goal, I will examine different components of the tombstone inscriptions which may contribute to an understanding of the Zoar afterlife concepts in late antiquity. Among the components to be explored are: (1) concluding phrases that give evidence for the belief in the resurrection of the dead; (2) the use of the word “shalom”; (3) the value given to the location of the grave in the Land of Israel; (4) the decoration of the epitaphs; and, (5) the unique dating formulas of the tombstones. Although all these components do not appear together on each tombstone, a combined analysis may provide an opportunity to glimpse briefly into some beliefs held by the Jewish community of Zoar in the 4th through 6th centuries C.E. This analysis will demonstrate that the interpretation of the Zoar epitaphs reveals a comprehensive view regarding the afterlife, namely an expectation for the resurrection of the dead that will occur when the “announcer of peace (shalom),” i.e., the Messiah King or the anointed king, arrives. At that time, the Temple will be rebuilt and priests will return to their work. In the meantime, those who composed the epitaphs hoped that the deceased would have a peaceful rest. The tombstones articulate these expectations also through the use of the word “shalom” which conveys two meanings: first, it is the symbol of the deliverance, and second, it is the symbol of the condition of the dead while waiting for the resurrection. I also suggest this view to be concurrent with the rabbinic texts of the time regarding ideas of the afterlife. Another interesting aspect 2) For example: Byron R. McCane, “Jews, Christians, and Burial in Roman Palestine” (Ph.D. diss., Department of Religion Duke University, 1992); Simcha P. Raphael, Jewish Views of the Afterlife (London: Jason Aronson, 1994); Nissan Rubin, The End of Life: Rites of Burial and Mourning in the Talmud and Midrash (Tel Aviv: Hakkibutz Hameuchad, 1997) [Hebrew]; David C. Kraemer, The Meanings of Death in Rabbinic Judaism (New York: Routledge, 2000); Joseph S. Park, Conceptions of Afterlife in Jewish Inscriptions: With Special Reference to Pauline Literature (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000); Leonard V. Rutgers, “Death and Afterlife: The Inscriptional Evidence,” in Judaism in Late Antiquity: Part Four: Death, Life-After-Death, Resurrection and the World-To-Come in the Judaisms of Antiquity (ed. Alan J. Avery-Peck and Jacob Neusner; Leiden: Brill, 2000); Alan F. Segal, Life After Death: History of the Afterlife in the Religions of the West (New York: Doubleday, 2004).

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of the Zoar epitaphs is that nearly all of their components contain expectations of deliverance or concerns about the afterlife. Before examining the afterlife concepts it is necessary to provide some background about Zoar and the Zoar tombstones. The question of whether the rabbinic texts could be used for the interpretation of the Zoar epitaphs will then be considered.

Zoar and the Zoar Epitaphs In antiquity, Zoar (or Zoara) was located on the southeastern side of the Dead Sea, which today is in the area of Ghor es-Safi in Jordan,3 and it lay along the network of Roman roads.4 Jewish and Christian sources from the 1st century C.E. and later identify the site as being biblical Zoar. Zoar is mentioned in Gen 19:18-31, where Lot asks God to spare the city during the coming destruction of Sodom. In response, God refrains from destroying Zoar and Lot hides in a cave near the city with his daughters. Zoar is also mentioned in Deut 34:1-4 when God shows Moses the land of Israel.5 Among non-biblical sources, Zoar is mentioned by Josephus and in the Babatha archive;6 Eusebius and Egeria also mention Zoar and its connection to the biblical story.7 Further, references to Zoar in rabbinic sources indicate that the rabbis knew the place well; they designate Zoar as the city of dates, describe its exact location, and, like Eusebius and Egeria, draw a connection to biblical Zoar.8 According to these varied sources, Zoar seems to be a well-known town, especially valued 3)

For the history of the research and the identification of the site: Yiannis E. Meimaris and Kalliope I. Kritikakou-Nikolaropoulou, Inscriptions from Palaestina Tertia Vol. Ia: The Greek Inscriptions from Ghor Es-Safi (Byzantine Zoora) (Athens: Diffusion de Boccard, 2005), 3-5. 4) Chaim Ben David, “The Road from Judea to Zoar and Moab in the Roman Period,” Mehkerei Yehuda V’Shomron 11 (2002): 151-64 [Hebrew]. 5) Zoar is also mentioned in Gen 13:10, 14:3, 14:8; Isa 15:5; Jer 48:34. 6) Josephus, War 4.482, Ant. 13.395-397. The Babatha archive: N. Lewis and Y. Yadin and J. C. Greenfield, The Documents from the Bar Kokhba Period in the Cave of Letters (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1989), 21 [Hebrew]. 7) Eusebius, Onomasticon 42.1-5, 94.1-2, 150.19-20; Egeria, Itinerarium, 12.6-7. According to Hagith Sivan, Palestine in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 243, in Zoar there was “a church dedicated to Hagios Lot with a cave in its midst generated a local cult prompted by monks and admired by pilgrims.” 8) For example: m. Yebam. 16:3; t. Šeb. 7:15; y. Yoma 3:2.

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for its produce and known as a place where Jews and non-Jews lived side by side.9 Archaeological work conducted at the site of Zoar in 2002-2004 by K.D. Politis seems to support this description by non-biblical sources, as Politis summarizes: The initial results, though, revealed fine imported wares from Syria and Egypt indicating wide trading relations and reflecting a wealthy and sophisticated urban community during the Byzantine and medieval periods based on specialized agricultural products such as dates, indigo, and sugarcane.10

In 1995, a rescue survey was made in Gohr es-Safi, particularly in Al-Naqʾ where the Byzantine cemetery is located. Over 300 inscribed tombstones from the 4th-6th centuries C.E. were found. Most of these tombstones were inscribed in Greek and indicated Christian burials, but some of them were Jewish and inscribed in Aramaic.11 It is interesting to note that Christians and Jews were buried in the same cemetery, thus supporting the written sources which describe Jews and non-Jews living side by side. The tombstones are made of sandstone; the text is engraved into some, while in others the text is written with red paint.12 The earliest Aramaic tombstone is dated to 351 C.E. and the latest to 577 C.E., but most of the tombstones are dated to the 5th century C.E.13 So far thirty tombstones have been recognized as Jewish,14 but a more accurate accounting is not currently available since many of them have been stolen and sold in antiquity markets. Three of the tombstones were 9)

The image of Jews and non-Jews living side by side especially appears in the Babatha documents: Lewis and Yadin and Greenfield, The Documents, 26. However, there is not enough evidence to describe the relationship between Jewish and the Christian inhabitants of Zoar during the 4th to 6th centuries. 10) Konstantinos D. Politis, “The Zoara Project, 2002-2003,” PEQ 136 (2004): 76. 11) Meimaris and Kritikakou-Nikolaropoulou, Inscriptions, 6; Konstantinos D. Politis, “The Sanctuary of Agios Lot, The City of Zoara and the Zared River,” The Madaba Mosaic Map, p.3. Cited 1 March 2006. Online: http://www.198.62.75.1/www1/ofm/mad/ articles/PolitisLot.html. 12) A detailed description of the material finding is in Meimaris and Kritikakou-Nikolaropoulou, Inscriptions, 9. 13) 5 tombstones are dated to the second half of the 4th c. C.E., 4 are dated to the 6th c. C.E., and the others are dated to the 5th c. C.E. The date of 3 tombstones is not certain. 14) 28 tombstones are written in Aramaic, but there is also one tombstone inscribed in Greek which is Jewish and one bilingual tombstone in Greek and Aramaic.

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known for many years. One was published by A. E. Cowley (1925) and two others by I. Ben-Zvi (1944) and E. L. Sukenik (1945).15 Most of the recently discovered tombstones were published by Joseph Naveh, although Sacha Stern and Haggai Misgav published a few others. In these publications, Naveh, Stern, and Misgav supplement the Aramaic tombstones with Hebrew translations and short commentaries.16 In these commentaries, Naveh, Stern, and Misgav add a few comments about the afterlife conceptions,17 but a general discussion has not been pursued, leaving much to be done for future scholars.18

The Tombstones and the Rabbinic Texts In order to contextualize the material on the tombstones, it will be advantageous to compare similarities and differences between these tombstones and other sources, such as epitaphs from other sites and rabbinic literature.19 15)

A. E. Cowley, “A Jewish Tomb-Stone,” PEFQS 57 (1925): 207-10; I. Ben-Zvi, “Two Judaeo-Aramaic Epitaphs from the Vicinity of Zoar,” BJPES 10 (1944): 35-38 [Hebrew]; E. L. Sukenik, “Jewish Tomb-Stones from Zoar,” Kedem 2 (1945): 83-88 [Hebrew]; Joseph A. Fitzmyer and Daniel J. Harrington, A Manual of Palestinian Aramaic Texts: (Second Century B.C.-Second Century A.D.) (Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1978), 300-301, nos. A50-A52. 16) Joseph Naveh, “Another Jewish Aramaic Tombstone from Zoar,” HUCA 56 (1985): 103-16; idem, “Aramaic Tombstones from Zoar,” Tarbiz 64 (1995): 477-97 [Hebrew]; Sacha Stern, “New Tombstones from Zoar (Mussaieff collection),” Tarbiz 68 (1999): 177-85 [Hebrew]; Joseph Naveh, “More on the Tombstones from Zoar,” Tarbiz 68 (1999): 581-86 [Hebrew]; idem, “Seven New Epitaphs from Zoar,” Tarbiz 69 (2000): 619-35 [Hebrew]; idem, “Two Tombstones from Zoar in the Hecht Museum Collection: The Aramaic Inscriptions,” Michmanim 15 (2001): 5-9 [Hebrew]; Hannah Cotton and Jonathan Price, “Bilingual Funerary Monument from Zoar in the Hecht Museum Collection: The Greek Inscription,” Michmanim 15 (2001): 10-12 [Hebrew]; Sacha Stern and Haggai Misgav, “Four Additional Tombstones from Zoar,” Tarbiz 74 (2005): 137-51 [Hebrew]. 17) Naveh, “Seven New Epitaphs,” 621, 623; Stern and Misgav, “Four Additional Tombstones,” 141, 149. 18) In general, little research or study regarding the content and context of the inscriptions has been done, except for discussions about the Aramaic language and the dating system. Recently: Sacha Stern, Calendar and Community: a History of the Jewish Calendar, Second Century BCE-Tenth Century CE (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 87-97, 146-53; Sivan, Palestine in Late Antiquity, 243-46. 19) For the general methodological problem of “read[ing] the inscriptions in light of the literary texts” see Leonard Victor Rutgers, The Hidden Heritage of Diaspora Judaism (Leuven: Peeters, 1998), 161. There are also general methodological problems that are involved in

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At this point, it may be useful to acknowledge issues of method: what is the relationship between the inscriptions and contemporary literary texts that deal with death and the afterlife?20 Since there are Palestinian rabbinic texts that presumably pre-date the Zoar tombstones, as well as others that are contemporary with them, can rabbinic sources be used to interpret the Zoar tombstones? Although we cannot take for granted that there is a correlation between the rabbinic texts, mostly from the Galilee, and the Zoar tombstones, there is a striking resemblance between the two in ideas, expressions, and in the utilization of biblical verses.21 In addition to these verbal resonances, one tombstone belongs to a Rabbi (tombstone 22) and one belongs to a daughter of a ḥaber (tombstone 10).22 These two tombstones may suggest that there were rabbis in Zoar. Thus, it seems overly cautious to ignore rabbinic texts while interpreting the tombstones. However, one should be careful when using rabbinic texts and not assume that any particular idea that can be found in Palestinian rabbinic sources is necessarily valid for the tombstones as well.23 Thus, the question of the precise relationship between rabbinic texts and the inscriptions should be kept open while examining the different components of the epitaphs, as the next section will show.

the interpretation of any inscription in relation to the afterlife. Questions arise such as: what can one conclude from the omissions of a certain inscription? Does the absence of reference to a certain conception testify that such a conception did not prevail? What is the meaning of an individual word or symbol? For example, what can one learn from the appearance of the word “shalom” on a tombstone? Is this word connected to afterlife ideas or is it only a salutation? These are only some of the problems that should be taken into consideration while interpreting the tombstones. See Park, Conceptions of Afterlife, 12-14; Rutgers, Death and Afterlife, 299-300. 20) Rutgers, The Hidden Heritage, 161; idem, Death and Afterlife, 299-300; Park, Conceptions of Afterlife, 12-14. 21) It is also important to consider the fact that most of these rabbinic texts are written in Hebrew and Galilean Aramaic whereas on the Zoar tombstones there is no Galilean Aramaic. 22) ḥaber in rabbinic texts was a title used for a member of the order for the observance of the laws of purity and tithes in daily intercourse. Naveh, “Two Tombstones,” 7. 23) The relevant rabbinic texts for the Zoar tombstones are mostly: The Mishnah, the Tosefta, the Tannaitic Midrashim, the Palestinian Talmud, Genesis Rabbah, Leviticus Rabbah and Pesiqta de Rab Kahana. Later Midrashim and the Babylonian Talmud are brought here only as an addition to the texts that were mentioned before since they differ in date and geographical location from the Zoar tombstones.

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A Concluding Phrase Regarding the Resurrection of the Dead Four of the Zoar tombstones give a clear indication of a belief in the resurrection. One example, tombstone 20, dated to 415 C.E.24 is presented here:25

24)

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11.

‫תנוח נפשה דיעקב‬ ‫בר שמעו דמית‬ ‫יום ב י\ יומין בירח‬ \‫שבט בשנתה ג‬ ‫דשבו]ע[ה שנת‬ \‫ש\ מאון מו‬ ‫שנין לחרבן בית‬ ‫מקדשה יתעוריר‬ ‫לקול מש‬ ‫מיע‬ ‫שלום‬

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9-10. 11.

May rest the soul of Jacob the son of Shemʿo who died on the second day, the 10th day of the month Shebat, in the 3rd year of the sabbatical cycle, the year 300 hundred and 46 (of the) years after26 the destruction of the Temple. May he wake up to the voice of the announcer of peace27

The dating of the tombstones in this paper is approximate within a one year range. For the calculation see Cotton and Price, “Bilingual Funerary Monument,” 11; Meimaris and Kritikakou-Nikolaropoulou, Inscriptions, 112. 25) Naveh, “Seven New Epitaphs,” 620. 26) I followed Naveh’s translation into English of ‫ לחרבן בית מקדשה‬as being “after the destruction of the temple.” Naveh translated three tombstones in Naveh, “Another,” 103-16. Compare Stern, Calendar and Community, 88, who suggests “from the destruction of the Temple.” However, Lucas Van Rompay suggests a different reading here: “of the destruction of the temple” since the word “after” does not appear in the tombstone inscriptions. This translation changes the meaning of the expression, since the destruction of the temple is not only an historical event in the past, but also an event that determines the quality of the time within which the people of Zoar lived, from their perspective: the time of destruction. 27) The translations reflect the Aramaic word order to the degree possible in English.

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The hope for the resurrection of Jacob, the son of Shemʿo, is clearly articulated in the Hebrew expression that concludes the inscription: “May he wake up to the voice of the announcer of peace” (line 8-11). Similarly, tombstone 22 (454 C.E.) and tombstone 27 (the date is missing) conclude with the same expression.28 The figure of “the announcer of peace” (‫ )משמיע שלום‬is taken from Isa 52:7 and it is connected to deliverance: How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of the herald, The announcer of peace the bringer of good news (‫)משמיע שלום מבשר טוב‬, Announcing deliverance, proclaiming to Zion, “Your God has become king.”29

Although in this biblical verse the description of the deliverance does not mention the resurrection of the dead, on these Zoar epitaphs the biblical phrase “the announcer of peace” is used in the context of resurrection. Thus, on the tombstone, there is a link between the deliverance of Israel, the resurrection of the dead, and the figure of “the announcer of peace.” At this point it may be useful to discuss briefly the evolving concept of the resurrection of the dead. Isa 26:19 may suggest this concept which appears explicitly in Dan 12:2; in turn, resurrection became a basic doctrine in the Mishnah: All Israelites have a share in the world to come, for it is written, “Thy people also shall be all righteous, they shall inherit the land for ever; the branch of my planting, the work of my hands that I may be glorified” (Isa 60:12). And these are they that have no share in the world to come: he that says that there is no resurrection of the dead prescribed in the Torah, and [he that says] that the Torah is not from Heaven. (m. Sanh. 10:1; trans. Danby, p. 397)

28)

Interestingly, there is a shift from Aramaic to Hebrew on the last lines of these tombstones and in many other Zoar epitaphs. For another example, see tombstone 10 in this study. More specifically, while the names and the death date formulas appear in Aramaic, the blessings at the bottom of the tombstones are often in Hebrew. One explanation for this language shift phenomenon may be the use of a biblical verse in this part of the inscription. Another explanation may be that this part of the epitaph contains a liturgical prayer or blessing. 29) The English translation was adjusted from: The Oxford Study Bible: Revised English Bible with the Apocrypha (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992). The figure of “the announcer of peace” is also found in Nah 2:1, and again it is connected to the deliverance of Israel.

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This passage guarantees that many of the dead will return to life in “the world to come.” Some aspects of this belief were debated by the rabbis and, indeed, are not completely clear to modern scholars.30 However, the rabbinic literature perceives the resurrection of the dead as a fundamental expectation.31 Archaeological findings, from the last half of the 1st century B.C.E. and later, appear to support the pervasiveness of this belief. Some scholars have suggested that certain burial practices indicate a belief in a physical resurrection.32 Furthermore, some funerary inscriptions and decorations in several locations may express the belief in a resurrection, as is articulated clearly in some of the Zoar epitaphs. 33 All in all, based on the above examples, the Zoar epitaphs demonstrate a belief in a future resurrection, which is linked to the deliverance of Israel and the arrival of “the announcer of peace.”

“Even the Dead Need It”34 (Shalom) The use of the phrase “the announcer of peace” on the Zoar tombstones is only one example of the frequent occurrence of the word “shalom” (peace) in these epitaphs. Therefore, I will now explore the role and the meaning of the word “shalom” in the Zoar corpus, examining how this meaning contributes to the understanding of the Zoar concepts of the afterlife. The earliest tombstone that contains the word “shalom” is dated to 407 C.E.35 Most of the subsequent tombstones contain the word “shalom” at least once.36 In many tombstones, the word “shalom” is not only part of 30) Some studies tried to solve the problems of the rabbinic conceptions of the afterlife. A few of them are listed in note 2. 31) Raphael, Jewish Views, 156-60. 32) For this discussion see Eric M. Meyers, “The Theological Implication of an Ancient Jewish Burial Custom,” JQR 62 (1971): 96-119 at 116; McCane, “Jews, Christans,” 73-74; Kraemer, The Meanings of Death, 50-51; Park, Conceptions of Afterlife, 170-73. Others scholars challenge the connection that was made between the burial practices and the afterlife conceptions, especially for a secondary burial, for example, Rubin, The End of Life, 145-52. 33) Park, Conceptions of Afterlife, 165-69; Kraemer, The Meanings of Death, 63. 34) Sifre to Numbers, 42. 35) Tombstone 9. Six tombstones that are dated earlier to 407 C.E. do not contain the word “shalom” (nos. 6, 19, 26, 18, 13, 7). 36) These are the tombstones that contain the word “shalom”: 1, 2 (x2), 3 (x2), 4 (x2), 5 (x2), 8, 9 (x3), 10 (x5), 12 (x3), 14, 15, 16 (x3), 17, 20, 22, 23 (x4), 24, 25, (x2), 27, 28 (x3), and 29.

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the written text, but also appears as part of the decoration at the bottom of the inscription. This location indicates that it had become a symbol, like the menorah. A similar phenomenon is well known from many other synagogues and tombstone inscriptions of the time. A few comparative studies have considered the meaning of the word “shalom” in funerary contexts. Some of the conclusions from these studies are useful for the understanding of the Zoar tombstones.37 Joseph S. Park concludes that the term “peace” (‫ )שלום‬is open to a wide variety of interpretations, but in the funerary context, it refers to the condition of the deceased in the tomb. Park adds that “this idea of peace in the grave seems to be especially strong in those epitaphs in which “shalom” is accompanied by other formulae which evoke the same idea, for example the mention of the tomb as a “resting place.”38 Leonard V. Rutgers suggests that the word “shalom” contains liturgical meaning, not only in synagogues and literary sources, but also in funerary inscriptions. Also, he adds: The Jewish funerary inscriptions seem to suggest that some sort of a prayerservice for the dead may have existed, perhaps in a very simple form. Thus, interestingly, even when these inscriptions address the world of the dead, they do so by saying something about the practices carried out by the living.39

The Zoar epitaphs which were not examined by Park or Rutgers support their claims regarding the meanings of the word “shalom” on Jewish tombstones. However, further exploration of the epitaphs provides additional information regarding the function of “shalom” as a symbol, since the word appears in some of the Zoar inscriptions as part of a broader context of phrases and biblical verses. “Shalom” as the Symbol of the Future Deliverance The first biblical verse, Isa 52:7, was already discussed in the last section regarding the phrase “May he wake up to the voice of the announcer of peace.” This figure, “the announcer of peace,” appears also in Leviticus Rabbah in a midrash that deals with the concept of peace.40 In this Amo37) 38) 39) 40)

Park, Conceptions of Afterlife, 87-98. Park presents other opinions on p. 88. Ibid., 97. Rutgers, The Hidden Heritage, 166. It is interesting to consider that while the word “shalom” appeared on tombstones and

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raic (5th-6th-century) midrash, different rabbis emphasize how “great is the peace” by giving examples from different biblical verses. The idea at the end of this midrash is similar to the last lines of these tombstones: ‫ שנ‘ מה נאוו‬.‫רבנין אמ‘ גדול שלום שכשמלך המשיח בא אינו פותח אלא בשלום‬ ‫על ההרים רגלי מבשר משמיע שלום‬ Rabbis say, “The Greatness of peace is shown in the fact that, when the anointed king comes, he will begin with peace, as it is said, ‘How Beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of the messenger, who announces peace.’”41

According to this midrash, the anointed king’s first action is to announce peace.42 One possible understanding of the midrash is that not only would the anointed king (the Messiah) bring peace, but he would also pronounce the word “shalom” itself.43 This reading of the midrash may affect the understanding of the tombstones in that the deceased not only would wake up to the voice of “the announcer of peace,” but it may be that “shalom” is the exact word he would hear. Such a suggestion gives extra significance to the word “shalom” as the first utterance from the anointed king that would be heard by the resurrected people. If this reading is correct, the word “shalom” symbolizes the sound of deliverance.44 Even without understanding the word “shalom” as the utterance of the Messiah, on these tombstones it is tied to the future deliverance, to the resurrection, and to the arrival of the “announcer of peace.” However, the epitaphs do not state clearly that the Messiah himself will wake the dead, but rather that the dead will hear his voice when they wake up.45 in synagogues, midrashim about the importance of peace were developed by the rabbis. For another example, see below. 41) The Hebrew version: Mordecai Margulies, Midrash Wayyikra Rabbah: A Critical Edition Based on Manuscripts and Genizah Fragments with Variants and Notes (Jerusalem: Wahrmann Books, 1972), 195. The English translation was adjusted from Jacob Neusner, Leviticus Rabbah: Part One (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997), 108. 42) However, in Leviticus Rabbah there is no explicit link between the anointed king and the resurrection. 43) The word ‫ פותח‬in Hebrew means “begin” and may be used also for “begin to speak.” Perhaps the word ‫ משמיע‬that means “to cause to be heard” also suggests this meaning. 44) It is also important to consider here that the word “shalom” appears in rabbinic texts as one of God’s names. See, for example, Sifre to Numbers, 42; Lev. Rab. 9:9. 45) Jacob Neusner in “Death and Afterlife in the Later Rabbinic Sources: The Two Talmuds and Associated Midrah Compilations,” in Avery-Peck and Neusner, Judaism in Late Antiquity: Part Four, 267-91 at 286, claims: “But at no point do I identify the claim that the

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“Shalom” as the Symbol of the Peaceful Rest of the Deceased In addition to “shalom” serving as a symbol of the future deliverance, on many of the Zoar tombstones the word is linked to the peaceful rest of the deceased prior to the resurrection. These two connotations of the word “shalom” (before the deliverance and during the deliverance, or before and after the resurrection) do not contradict each other, as can be inferred from tombstone 22:46 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

‫תנוח נפשה דרבי סימון‬ ‫בירבי דמית יום ארבעתה‬ ‫בתלתה יומין בירח אדר‬ ‫בשתה שביעיתה דשמטתה‬ ‫דהי שנת תלת מאון‬ ‫ותמנין וחמש שנין‬ ‫לחרבן בית מקדשה‬ ‫ינוח חכם בשלום‬ ‫יתעורר לקול משמיע‬ ‫שלום‬

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

May rest the soul of Rabbi Simon Birabi, who died (on) the fourth day the third day of the month Adar in the seventh year of the Shemita which is the year three hundred and eighty and five years after the destruction of the Temple May he rest (as) a sage in peace May he wake up to the voice of the announcer of peace

On this tombstone, dated 454 C.E., the last three lines, written in Hebrew, articulate the wish or the prayer for the peaceful rest of Rabbi Simon until the resurrection. The fact that the deceased was a rabbi is mentioned three times on the tombstone: before his name, in the term Birabi, which was used as a name for a family of rabbis or for a son of a rabbi, and also in

messiah is the one who raises the dead, the language that is used always simply saying, then—when he has come—the dead will rise or live; but God is the one who gives them breath.” I would like to thank Paul Flesher for suggesting that I look at Neusner’s article. 46) Illustration of tombstone 22 appears in appendix 3.

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line 8, in the concluding prayer.47 The Hebrew language that was chosen for the last lines adds to the likelihood that this is part of a liturgical prayer or blessing.48 This prayer, a request for a peaceful rest of the deceased, appears explicitly on some of the Zoar tombstones in a variety of forms.49 Some of these expressions derive from Isa 57:2 and its context: ‫הצדיק אבד ואין איש שם על לב ואנשי חסד נאספים באין מבין כי מפני הרעה‬ .‫ יבוא שלום ינוחו על משכבותם הלך נכחו‬.‫נאסף הצדיק‬ The righteous perish, and no one takes it to heart; the devout are taken away, while no one understands. For the righteous are taken away from calamity, and they enter into peace; those who walk uprightly will rest on their couches. (Isa 57:1-2, NRSV)

In this verse, the death of the righteous is tied, eventually, to peace and rest. The allusion to this verse (with some variations) on the tombstone hints that the family of the deceased wished him to enjoy a righteous reward after his death.50 In rabbinic texts, the concepts of “peace” and a “peaceful rest” as the reward of the righteous is also based on an understanding of Isa 57:2. Some rabbinic texts attach this verse to the death of specific righteous individuals, such as Moses or a particular rabbi. For example, y. Sotah 1:10, 17c, contains a midrash that describes the death of Moses. This midrash tells what was said by “The Holy One, blessed be he,” “the ministering angels,” and “the Israelites” after the death of Moses: .‫ ”יבוא שלום ינוחו על משכבותם הולך נכוחו‬.‘‫”אילו ואילו היו אומ‬ These and those would say, ‘He (Moses) enters into peace; they rest in their beds who walk in their uprightness’51

47)

Concerning the use of the term Birabi, see Mordechai A. Friedman, Jewish Marriage in Palestine: A Cairo Geniza Study (2 vols.; Tel Aviv: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1980-81), 2:411-14 [Hebrew]. 48) Concerning the shift from Aramaic to Hebrew on the last line/lines of many tombstones, see note 28. 49) See tombstones: 2, 10, 22, 14, 24, 25, 29, and 16. 50) The rest is imagined as a sleep. This idea of the dead as sleeping while they wait for their resurrection appears in Dan 12:2, 13. 51) Jacob Neusner, The Talmud of the Land of Israel: A Preliminary Translation and Explanation: 27 Sotah (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1984), 52. Another example for

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This description of what was said after the death of the leader may strengthen the impression that this verse functioned liturgically on the occasion of a funeral. However, the use of the same verse on multiple Zoar tombstones shows that this verse did not only apply to a leader. The Wish that Shalom Would Rest upon the Grave Another example of a request for a peaceful rest is found in the last lines (8-11) of tombstone 10:52 ‫יבו שלום‬ ‫וינוח על משכבה‬ ‫שלום שלום‬ ‫שלום שלום‬ 8. 9. 10. 11.

May peace come and rest upon her resting place Peace Peace Peace Peace

Tombstone 10 belongs to Meḥirsha (‫)מחירשה‬, the daughter of Marsa the ḥabera and is dated to 431 C.E.53 The last four lines are written in Hebrew and articulate a prayer. Within these lines the word “shalom” appears five times, four of which occur in the last two lines as part of the decoration where they flank a menorah, two birds, and perhaps a shofar. The fifth occurrence of the word “shalom,” which appears within the phrase ‫יבו‬ ‫( שלום וינוח על משכבה‬May peace come and rest upon her resting place), may be understood as a request that this “shalom” (peace) would come to the grave.54 A similar personification of “peace” as “walking to the grave” the use of this verse is: Nezikin, Mekhilta According to Rabbi Ismael, ch. 18. In this example, the verse is tied to Rabban Simeon Ben Gamaliel and Rabbi Ishmael. See also: b. Ketub. 104b. 52) Illustration of tombstone 10 appears in appendix 1. 53) Ḥ abera is the Aramaic form of ḥaber. 54) In the words of tombstone 10 ‫( וינוח על משכבה‬and rest upon her resting place), the masculine occurrence of the word rest (‫ )וינוח‬could be a mistake in the gender (the masculine ‫ ינוח‬occurs instead of the feminine ‫)תנוח‬. Naveh suggests that maybe this change occurred because the verse originally is speaking about males. Naveh, “Aramaic Tombstones,” 491. If this is so, the reading should be: “May peace come, may she rest upon her resting place.” On the other hand, the word ‫( ינוח‬rest) may not be a gender mistake, but rather referring to the word ‫( שלום‬peace) and then the request is that the “shalom” would rest upon the grave.

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of the righteous appears in t. Sotah 10:1-2 (‫)הולך שלום אל הקבר‬.55 Therefore, the tombstone’s author requests that peace would come and rest upon the grave. A similar example for the wish that “shalom” would come and rest upon a grave appears in a later rabbinic text from the Land of Israel. In Derekh Eretz Rabbah 7:37, one finds a similar expression to that of tombstone 10: ‫( כדי שיבא שלום וינוח על משכבך‬in order that peace would come and rest upon your resting place).56 Shalom as the Portion of the Righteous Given all the prayers for peaceful rest which appear on the Zoar tombstones, one may assume that such rest is not the obvious portion for all of the deceased. Similarly, in rabbinic texts, peace after death belongs only to the righteous. This idea, in rabbinic sources, is tied to another verse from Isaiah: “‘There is no peace’ says the Lord, ‘for the wicked’ (Isa 48:22).” In Sifre to Numbers 42, a Tannaitic midrash that discusses the importance of peace, there is an example of these views:57 Great is peace, for even the dead need it, as it is said, “And you shall go to your fathers in peace” (Gen 15:15). And it says, “You will die in peace and with the burning of your fathers” (Jer 34:5) . . . Great is peace, for it is given as the portion of the righteous, as it is said, “May he come in peace, resting on their resting place” (Isa 57:2). Great is peace, for it is not given as the portion of the wicked, as it is said, “There is no peace, says the Lord, to the wicked” (Isa 57:21).58

This midrash articulates the idea that the dead need peace. This concept may be a key to understanding the meaning of the word “shalom” on the tombstones of Zoar. The midrash continues with the contrast between the afterlife of the wicked and that of the righteous.59 According to this 55)

This text also suggests, according to Isa 57:1-3, that after the death of a righteous person all the peace of the world concentrates on the righteous person’s grave and as a result “retribution (‫ )פורענות‬comes into the world and goodness (‫ )טובה‬departs from the world.” The translation is taken from Jacob Neusner, The Tosefta: Translated from the Hebrew: Third Division: Nashim (New York: Ktav Publishing House, 1979), 191. 56) The exact dating of Derekh Eretz Rabbah is not clear, but it may be 6th-7th c. C.E. 57) In general, Sifre to Numbers contains material of rabbis who were active up to the 1st quarter of the 3d century. 58) Jacob Neusner, Sifre to Numbers: An American Translation and Explanation (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1986), 198. The same idea appears in b. Ketub. 104b. 59) It is clear that the midrash refers to the afterlife because of the biblical verse (Isa 57:2)

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525

view, the wicked are denied the peace which is important for the resting dead awaiting until the resurrection, and which is also part of the future deliverance.60 Formulas of Prayers As was mentioned above, prayers for peace and a peaceful rest for the deceased after death appear on many of the Zoar tombstones in a variety of expressions. This may indicate that there was no one formula in use at this time.61 Interestingly, two Hebrew formulas that continued to be used much later in the Jewish prayer are found in the later tombstones. The first formula, ‫שלום על ישראל‬, “peace upon Israel,” appears in the following tombstones: 4 (455 C.E.), 17 (502 C.E.), and 3 (504 C.E.). This formula originally concludes two psalms—Pss 125 and 128—and as such suggests a liturgical function. Moreover, this expression is known from tombstones in other locations, where it articulate a wish for national peace and perhaps the wish for a collective permanent peace in the future.62 The second formula, ‫ינוח בשלום על משכבו‬, “May he rest in peace upon his resting place,” appears on tombstone 25 (504 C.E.). The same request, occurring as variations of this expression, appears on many of the Zoar tombstones. However, on tombstone 25 the version is identical to the last lines of the El Malei Rahamin—a prayer first attested in its familiar form in the medieval era.63 Thus, the request for peace and a peaceful rest for the deceased, which was usually written in Hebrew, is not only the family’s spontaneous wish for the loved one, but could also be a quotation from a non-extant early prayer for the dead.64 that refers to the death of the righteous and because of the use of the word portion ‫ חלק‬in Hebrew. See the occurrences of this word in m. Sanh. 10:1. 60) A rabbinical suggestion of what happens to the wicked after their death is found in t. Sanh. 13:4. Kraemer, The Meaning of Death, 46. 61) These different expressions may enable one to get a glimpse of the development of the prayer for the dead. It is beyond the scope of this paper to address this question, but it may leave room for another study. 62) For examples from other places, see Park, Conceptions of Afterlife, 94, 119. For this expression in synagogue settings, see Joseph Naveh, On Stone and Mosaic: The Aramaic and Hebrew Inscriptions from Ancient Synagogues (Tel Aviv: Maariv, 1978), nos. 38, 50, 68, 70, 75 and 111. 63) About the date of the prayer see A. Z. Idelsohn, Jewish Liturgy and its Development (New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1932), 232; Abraham E. Millgram, Jewish Worship (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society of America, 1971), 449. 64) Maybe a prayer for the dead was developed from formulas like these.

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Conclusions: the Meaning of Shalom as a Symbol In summary, since 407 C.E. the word “shalom” in Hebrew script emerged on the Zoar tombstones as a symbol that expresses two meanings: (1) deliverance of the people of Israel, at which time the resurrection also occurs, and (2) depiction of the status of the dead individuals while they wait for their resurrection. These two meanings of “shalom” complement each other. Moreover, such a notion of peace is denied those who are wicked. Similarities between the tombstones and rabbinic sources indicate that both share ideas and rely on the same biblical verses. In particular, the importance of the theme of peace has been identified in both the rabbinic texts and the tombstones. Finally, the appearance of formulas of blessing that contain the word “shalom” may support Rutgers’s hypothesis that the word “shalom” on the tombstones has a liturgical meaning.

Atonement for Sins: “May He Hold the Altar and Wake Up”65 Prayers for the peaceful rest of the deceased are also related to the atonement for sins since, according to a few scholars, Jews at the time of the Zoar tombstones believed that such atonement was required for one’s resurrection.66 According to another contemporary Jewish belief, this atonement was achieved through the death and the process of flesh decaying in the grave which could expiate sin.67 In addition to these atonement “methods,” there is also evidence that by the time of the Zoar tombstones, Jews thought that the location of the grave in the land of Israel influenced the atonement of one’s sins. Thus, the practice of bringing Jewish dead from the Diaspora to be buried in the land of Israel is well documented.68 Tombstone 24 is an example of this practice.69 65)

Tombstone 23. McCane, “Jews, Christans,” 78. 67) Saul Lieberman, “Some Aspects of After Life in Early Rabbinic Literature,” in Harry Austryn Wolfson: Jubilee Volume (Jerusalem: The American Academy for Jewish Research, 1965), 506-7. 68) Naveh “Seven New Epitaphs,” 625; Eric M. Meyers, Jewish Ossuaries: Reburial and Rebirth: Secondary Burials in Their Ancient Near Eastern Setting (Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1971), 72-79; idem, “The Theological Implication,” 98-108; Isaiah M. Gafni, Land, Center and Diaspora: Jewish Constructs in Late Antiquity (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997), 79-95. 69) Naveh, ibid., 624; Stern and Misgav, “Four Additional Tombstones,” 138. 66)

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The belief that a burial in the land of Israel atones for one’s sins is articulated in t. ʿAbod. Zar. 4:3: “And whoever is buried in the Land of Israel is as if he is buried under the altar [of the Temple in Jerusalem].” The altar was the locus of ultimate atonement during the time of the Temple. According to the Tosefta, in the time after the destruction, to be buried in the land of Israel was akin to being buried under the altar; thus, such burial atones for one’s sins. The idea of the efficacy of burial in the Land of Israel appears, interestingly, on tombstone 23 (459 C.E.) which belongs to a priest: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9-11.

‫ת]נו[ח נפשה דיהודה כהנה‬ ‫[מה דאתנכש‬. . .]‫בר אב‬70 ‫בתלת יומין בירח כסליו‬ ‫בשתה חמשיתה דשבועה‬ ‫דהי שנת ש מון צ שנין‬ ‫שנין לחרבן בית מקדש‬ ‫יוחז במדבח ויתערר‬ [‫לקלו משמע ש]לם‬ ‫ שלם‬/‫ שלם‬/‫שלם‬

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9-11.

May r[es]t the soul of Yehuda the priest The son of Ab[. . .]ma who died (on) the third day of the month Kislev In the fifth year of the sabbatical cycle which is the year 300 hundred and 90 years years after the destruction of the Temple May he hold the altar and wake up to the voice of the announcer of peace Peace/ peace/ peace

As on other tombstones, the last lines of the Aramaic inscription contain a prayer or petition in Hebrew.71 The previously discussed request that the deceased would “wake up to the voice of the announcer of peace” appears on tombstone 23 immediately after the date according to years from the 70)

The verb ‫ נכש‬that according to Michael Sokoloff, A Dictionary of Jewish Palestinian Aramaic (Ramat-Gan: Bar Ilan University Press: 1990), 351, means ‘to weed out’ does not make sense in this context. Therefore the verb ‫ נכש‬may have been mistaken for ‫ כנש‬that according to Sokoloff, 264, means “to die” in itpeel. Thus, the translation for ‫דאתנכש‬ may be “who died” or “who was gathered.” See also Naveh, “Seven New Epitaphs,” 623. 71) Here in the Hebrew sentences appears the Aramaic version of the words “altar” (‫מדבח‬ instead of ‫ )מזבח‬and “peace” (‫ שלם‬instead of ‫)שלום‬.

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destruction. However, on this tombstone there is a special addition: the resurrection of Yehuda should occur while he holds the altar. The image of the deceased holding the altar may be related to the idea previously seen in t. ʿAbod. Zar.4:3 which compares the Land of Israel to the altar of the Temple.72 This image may be related to the fact that Yehuda is a priest; as such, the request on his tombstone is that immediately after his resurrection he will serve at the altar in the rebuilt Temple. If this interpretation is correct, the inscription provides a link between the resurrection of the dead and the rebuilding of the temple that will occur both at the time of the deliverance and the arrival of the “announcer of peace.” A menorah appears on the bottom of the tombstone, close to three appearances of the word “peace,” that possibly symbolizes the wish for the rebuilding of the Temple (as will be discussed in the next section). All in all, the epitaph of Yehuda the priest suggests that just as atonement for sin was obtained through the altar before the destruction of the temple, in the future it would be obtained through the altar of the rebuilt Temple. In the meantime, for those who wished to obtain atonement, the location of the grave in the land of Israel was an efficient substitute.

The Decoration: Hope for the Rebuilding of the Temple The decoration of the tombstones usually appears close to the end of the inscriptions. For example, in the lines that conclude tombstone 20, “May he wake up to the voice of the announcer of peace,” the word “shalom” appears as part of the decoration of the tombstone, between two menoroth (the seven-armed candelabrum) and a shofar.73 These two images—the menoroth and the shofar—, together with a lulav and the ark, were also found on other Zoar tombstones and became widespread symbols within Jewish society by the 4th century.74 Rachel 72) According to Gaffni (Land, 83) following Urbach, this tradition is probably a later addendum to the Tosefta. Yet this idea appears on tombstone 23. 73) Illustration of tombstone 20 appears in appendix 2. 74) The menorah is found on tombstones 3 (2), 4, 5, 8?, 9, 10, 11, 12, 11, 14, 15, 16, 18, 20 (2), 21 (2), 22, 23, 25, 27, 28 (3), 29. The shofar is found on: 5?, 10, 14, 18, 20, 22, 29? The lulav is found on tombstones: 3, 5?, 12, 16?, 18, 27 (2). The ark is found on: 14, 22. On two of the tombstones (nos. 5, 10) there are one or two birds. According to Meimaris and Kritikakou-Nikolaropoulou, Inscriptions, 13, the birds are “the second symbol in terms of frequency after cross” on the Greek inscriptions. Birds are “taken as symbols of

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529

Hachlili suggests that the Jewish need for symbols which is reflected in the use of the menorah as an identification mark emerged at a time of conflict with the Christian community. Therefore, “the menorah with the ritual objects developed as a unified design of Jewish symbols during the third century.”75 The use of the menorah in most of the Zoar tombstones may be explained by the fact that the cemetery in Zoar was shared by the Jewish and the Christian communities. As a result, a distinct identification mark for Jewish graves was needed.76 However, these symbols were also chosen for the tombstones because of their intrinsic meaning. David Kraemer, when discussing the catacomb at Beth Sheʿarim, explains the significance of these symbols as interpreted by the Jews of the time: The menorah, lulav and shofar are . . . a popular combination in Jewish art of this period. All have strong associations with the Jerusalem Temple, now in ruins. The menorah, of course, stood at the Temple, and was one of the Temple’s most distinguishable figures . . . the lulav was the central symbol of Sukkot, and the primary theater for the enactment of the lulav ritual was the Temple. The blowing of shofars (or at least horns) accompanied the sacrificial offering on special occasions . . . The shofar would sound at the Temple to announce the arrival of the Jubilee. Of course, the shofar would one day announce the coming of the Messiah. And it represents also the ram from which it was taken—the ram offered on the altar, the ram that took the place of Isaac on the altar that Abraham had built. Thus, the shofar has profound redemptive connotations.

the Holy spirit or of the released soul in heaven and of immortality.” For the Jewish context, a bird may symbolize the soul that is released from the body by death. This image appears in y. Moʾed Qaṭ. 3:5, 82b. A fish appears on tombstone 20. In the Christian context, the fish is one of the early symbols of Christ. In the Jewish funerary context, a fish is rare. Another symbol that appears both on Aramaic and Greek tombstones is the palm branch. In the Greek inscriptions the palm branch is “symbolizing triumph or victory” and is “frequently found combined with a christogram or a cross as an emblem of the victory of the Christian faith.” The meaning of the palm branch (or the lulav) in the Jewish context will be discussed later. This list of symbols on the Aramaic tombstones is not a completed one since: (1) Not all the parts of the tombstones are available; (2) I used the pictures in the articles and I did not have the originals or the original pictures. 75) Rachel Hachlili, The Menorah, the Ancient Seven-Armed Candelabrum: Origin, Form and Significance (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 278. 76) While the predominant symbol on the Aramaic tombstones was the menorah, on the Greek inscriptions the predominant symbol was the cross. Meimaris and KritikakouNikolaropoulou, Inscriptions, 10-12.

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The same is true of the lulav. The ritual of pilgrimage, approaching and circumambulating the altar with lulav in hand, was also a prayer for redemption . . . The Temple was dedicated on Sukkot (see 1 Kgs 8:2); it was rededicated (Ezra 4:1-6) and rededicated again (2 Macc 1:18) in association with the same festival. It would thus be rededicated a final time in connection with the same redemptive pilgrimage—now a last messianic pilgrimage.77

Thus, the menorah, the most common symbol on Zoar tombstones, not only provides an identification mark for Jewish graves in the ChristianJewish cemetery, it also implies an expectation for the rebuilding of the Temple. On some of the tombstones, the menorah is accompanied by other ritual objects (shofar, lulav, and the ark) that may convey a similar message. This interpretation of the symbols is compatible with the written text on the tombstones. Examining the epitaph of Yehuda the priest has suggested a wish for the rebuilding of the Temple. Further, an explicit request for its rebuilding appears on two of the latest tombstones: 25 (504 C.E.) and 29 (577 C.E.).78 For example, on tombstone 25, immediately after the date according to the years that passed from the destruction of the temple, appears the request: “May it be [God’s] will that it [the temple] will be rebuilt” (‫)יהיא רצון שייבנה‬. The expression ‫ יהיא רצון‬articulates a request. We also find this expression in the Mishnah and in later rabbinic texts.79 Similar to the request on these two tombstones, a prayer to rebuild the temple, together with the expression ‫יהיא רצון‬, is found in m. Aboth 5:20: ‫יהי רצון מלפניך ה‘ אלהינו שתבנה במהרה עירך‬.80 In addition, one of the dating formulas employed on the tombstones, which will be discussed next, commemorates the destruction of the Temple and may also articulate a hope for its rebuilding. 77)

Kraemer, The Meaning of Death, 54-55. See also tombstone 21 (448 C.E.). 79) m. Ber. 9:3; t. Ber. 6:17; y. Ber. 1:5, 3d; 4:2, 7d; 9:4 14b; Gen. Rab. 56:14; 85. About the function of the expression ‫ היי רצון‬see, Joseph Heineman, Prayer in The Talmud: Forms and Patterns (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1977), 211-15, 260, 262-63, 268-69, 278, 280, 282-83. 80) “May it be Thy will, O Lord our God . . . that the Temple be built speedily” (trans. Danby, 458). An identical expression to this of the Zoar tombstone appears in m. Tamid 7:3: ‫“ יהי רצון שיבנה במהרה בימנו אמן‬May it be his will that it shall be built up again, speedily, in our days. Amen” (trans. Danby, 589). However this sentence is not part of the original Mishnah, but a later addition, as was noted by J. N. Epstein, Introduction to the Mishnaic Text (Jerusalem: The Hebrew University Magnes Press, 2000), 979. A similar request appears in the prayer of Amidah, see Naveh, Seven New Epitaphs, 625-26. 78)

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The Unique Dating Formulas At this point, having delineated the main concepts of the Zoar afterlife, the unique extended dating formulas of Zoar can be analyzed in order to connect them to the afterlife concepts that were discussed before. Since it is rare to find dated inscriptions with Hebrew script after the second revolt (135 C.E.) and prior to the 10th century C.E., the Zoar tombstones have attracted the attention of calendar scholars.81 Indeed, the tombstones hold a unique place in the corpus of dated inscriptions. Their dating includes two ways of counting the years: first, the year according to the sabbatical cycle; and second, the years that had passed since the destruction of the Temple.82 In most of the tombstones these two dating formulas appear together on the same inscription. Only four of them lack the date according to the sabbatical cycle.83 While the Zoar tombstones’ calendar formulas expand our understanding of the Jewish calendar of the Byzantine era,84 they raise additional questions: what meaning can one attribute to the choice of these dating 81)

Naveh, “Another,” 103. The dates on the Aramaic inscriptions and on the Greek (Christian) inscriptions are the dates of death. Meimaris and Kritikakou-Nikolaropoulou, Inscriptions, 46. According to Haggai Misgav, “Development of Jewish Memorial Customs in the Roman-Byzantine Period Based on Burial Inscription,” Mehkerei Yehuda V’Shomron 11 (2002): 123-33 at 130-33, the detailed dating of the Zoar Tombstones shows “an increase of annual visits to the grave site or to cemeteries.” The problems of this hypothesis are: (1) there are no other sources to support it, as the earliest evidence of this custom among Jews is from Europe in the 11th c. (Rashi for Yebam. 122a); (2) The function of the dating according to the sabbatical cycle could not be explained in this context. Thus, other explanations for the detailed dating should be given. However, the extended dating formulas should be considered in the light of the Christian Greek inscriptions from the same cemetery that also contain an extended dating. According to Meimaris and Kritikakou-Nikolaropoulou, 46-48, the dating system in use on the Greek inscriptions is that of Provincia Arabia. And they add: “Unlike the laconic dates (usually composed of era year) encountered in the fourth century inscription of Palestine and Arabia . . . the dating formula at Ghor es-Safi appears rather established already from the mid-fourth century having as basic component parts the years numeral, the month day and the weekday. Around the middle of the fifth century this pattern starts to be occasionally enlarged through the addition of the indiction year . . . which became an almost indispensable dating element in the inscriptions of the sixth century” (46). This information should be part of a discussion about the function of the dating formulas on the Aramaic inscriptions. 83) The tombstones without the date according to the sabbatical cycle are: 6, 19, 26, and 13. 84) For details see Stern, Calendar and Community. 82)

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formulas? And in particular, did the choice of formula relate to beliefs about the afterlife that were held by Jews in Zoar in the 4th to 6th centuries? The first dating formula is in accord with the sabbatical cycle. The laws regarding the sabbatical cycle appear in the Torah and affected agricultural practices in the Land of Israel: “But in the seventh year there shall be a Sabbath of complete rest for the land, a Sabbath for the Lord: you shall not sow your field or prune your vineyard” (Lev 25:4). In addition to providing complete rest for the land, trade was affected by the sabbatical (shemita) year since all debts were cancelled.85 There is evidence for observance of the agricultural laws of the sabbatical year during the Second Temple period and after the Destruction in 70 C.E. S. Safrai suggested that in Amoraic times (3d to 5th century closer to the time of the Zoar tombstones) the observance of the sabbatical year had strengthened.86 Although rabbinic literature contains abundant rules and stories about the sabbatical year, these sources also demonstrate the difficulties that were tied to the observance of these laws. Despite these difficulties, there is ample evidence in rabbinic texts of the value that rabbis attached to the observance of the sabbatical year laws.87 In addition, the importance of the sabbatical cycle is demonstrated in the inscription from the synagogue of Rehob, a little later than the time of the Zoar tombstones.88 Additional importance of the sabbatical cycle in the land of Israel may be suggested by its possible connection to the Torah reading cycle, as was argued by Shlomo Naeh. According to this view, two cycles of reading—each of them spanning three and a half years—were completed precisely at Sukkot, the Feast of Tabernacles, in the sabbatical year.89 Therefore, it is not surprising to find the date according to the sabbatical cycle on Zoar tombstones because of its importance for the rhythm of Jewish life in late antiquity.90 However, could this dating be related to

85)

The biblical laws of the shemitta: Lev 25: 1-7; Deut 15: 1-12. S. Safrai, “The Practical Implementation of the Sabbatical Year after the Destruction of the Second Temple,” Tarbiz 36 (1966): 1-21 at 20-21 [Hebrew]. 87) For examples, ibid., 1-21; Sivan, Palestine in Late Antiquity, 247. 88) Naveh, On Stone and Mosaic, 79-85. 89) Shlomo Naeh, “On the Septennial Cycle of the Torah Reading in Early Palestine,” Tarbiz 74 (2005): 43-75 [Hebrew]. 90) The same dating formula, according to the sabbatical cycle, was found also in a synagogue in Khirbet Susiya. See Zeev Yevin, “Susiya Khirbet: The Synagogue,” The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavation in the Holy Land, 4:1420. 86)

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concepts of the afterlife and deliverance? Examining the rabbinic literature suggests a possible connection. According to some Amoraic texts, the seventh year will be the time of the deliverance. One example is found in y. Ber. 2:3, 4d, which discusses the order of the prayer of Amidah: ‫ ללמדך שאין ישראל נגאלין‬.‫ מפני מה התקינו גואל יש‘ ברכה שביעית‬.‫אמ‘ ר‘ אחא‬ .‫אלא בשביעית‬ Said R. Aha, “Why did they ordain ‘Redeemer of Israel’ as the seventh blessing? To teach you that Israel will be redeemed only in the seventh year [the sabbatical year].”91

This text suggests that the deliverance of Israel will occur in the sabbatical year. Another text, the Amoraic midrash Pesiq. Rab. Kah. 5:13, specifies the coming of the son of David at the end of the sabbatical year and describes the stages of the deliverance process in accord with the sabbatical cycle. According to this text, each year of the sabbatical cycle would be characterized differently, as part of the Messianic process: And rabbis say, “In the septennate in which the son of David comes, in the first of the seven year spell, “I shall cause it to rain on one town and not on another” (Amos 4:7). “In the second, the arrows of famine will be sent forth. In the third there will be a great famine, and men, women, and children will die in it, and the Torah will be forgotten in Israel. In the fourth, there will be a famine which is not really a famine, and plenty which is not plentiful. In the fifth year, there will be great plenty, and people will eat and drink and rejoice, and the Torah will again be renewed. In the sixth there will be great thunders. In the seventh there will be wars. And at the end of the seventh year of the septennate, the son of David will come.”92

These rabbinic texts, which make a connection between the sabbatical cycle and the deliverance of Israel, suggest that the use of the sabbatical cycle as part of a dating system in the Zoar tombstones may stem from 91)

Tzvee Zahavy, The Talmud of the Land of Israel: A Preliminary Translation and Explanation, vol.1 (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1989), 86. 92) Jacob Neusner, Pesiqta de Rab Kahana: An Analytical Translation (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1987), 87. For the Hebrew text: Bernard Mandelbaum, Pesikta de Rav Kahana (New York: The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1962), 97-98. In addition see Song of Song Rab., 2:13; b. San. 97b; b. Meg. 17b.

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the hope for deliverance, or, at least indicate that the people of the time made a connection between the sabbatical cycle and the expectation of deliverance. However, the connection between the sabbatical cycle and the idea of deliverance is not explicit on the Zoar tombstones; one must rely upon rabbinic sources. In the second dating formula, which counts the years since the destruction of the Temple, the connections among the deliverance of Israel, the resurrection of the dead and the rebuilding of the Temple can be seen more directly. This dating formula is not unique to Zoar. Mishnah Giṭ. 8:5 refers to dating according to the destruction of the Temple, and a synagogue lintel inscription from Nabratein (Kefar Nevuraya), is dated to the 494th year of the destruction.93 Hagith Sivan describes the meaning of choosing this dating formula in Zoar: All calendrical calculation in the Jewish section of the Zoar cemetery positioned the year of the destruction of the Temple (68/69 CE by their standard) as “year zero,” as though fitting a lasting trauma into a system that aspired to merge biblical and historical ways of counting time . . . The all-pervasiveness of a calendar dominated by loss, specifically by that of Jerusalem’s Temple, continued to animate the reflective domain of Jews. Whether mourning death or celebrating marriage, the spectre of the Temple, as of living land, continued to hold sway in Jewish memory.94

In her explanation of choosing the Destruction as “year zero” in the Zoar calendar, Sivan delineates the importance of the destroyed Temple to Jewish identity of late antiquity. However, this dating formula may have been chosen for the Zoar epitaphs also because it was associated with expectations for the future. Explicit connection between this dating system and a request for the rebuilding of the temple appears on two of the latest tombstones: 25 (504 C.E.) and 29 (577 C.E.).95 On other tombstones, the link connecting the dating formula according to the years since the destruction, the prayer for the rebuilding of the Temple, and the deliverance of Israel is less explicit. However, the juxtaposition of this dating formula and a prayer for the resurrection of the deceased suggests a rela93) 94) 95)

Naveh, On Stone and Mosaic, 31. Sivan, Palestine in Late Antiquity, 244-45. See also tombstone 21 (448 C.E.).

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tionship between them. For example, in most of the tombstones the date according to the years that have passed since the destruction of the temple is the second dating (or the only dating formula on a few tombstones). The prayer for the resurrection of the deceased “May he wake up to the voice of the announcer of peace” appears next to this dating in the lines that conclude tombstones 20, 22, 23, and 27. The juxtaposition of destruction and resurrection serves to sharpen the impression that the people who wrote these inscriptions were aware that they lived in a time of destruction, while at the same time they awaited the resurrection and the rebuilding of the temple in the future. The inscriptions also articulate the hope that the deceased will participate in such a future. Thus, the use of the dating formula relating to the destruction of the Temple is not a casual matter, but carries with it a meaning of commemoration of the Temple and hope for Israel’s deliverance which will include the resurrection of the dead and the rebuilding of the temple. All in all, the reasons for choosing these dating formulas could have varied, yet afterlife beliefs and hopes likely played a part. For the dating formula according to the sabbatical cycle, contemporary rabbinic sources suggest that people linked it with the deliverance of Israel. However, the epitaphs do not provide direct evidence for that. In contrast, on two tombstones, the dating formula according to the time from the destruction of the temple is explicitly linked to hope for the rebuilding of the Temple. On other tombstones, the juxtaposition of this dating formula to elements already discussed, such as the request for the resurrection of the deceased to the “shalom” symbol and to the decoration, suggests that afterlife concepts influenced the choosing of this dating formula.

Conclusion Examining the different components of the epitaphs offers a brief glimpse into concepts of the afterlife held by the Jews in Zoar during the 4th through 6th centuries. The study reveals that almost every epitaph component contains afterlife expectations. The epitaph components I have explored consist of: (1) a concluding phrase that indicates a belief in the resurrection of the dead; (2) the use of the word “shalom”; (3) the importance of the location of the grave in the Land of Israel; (4) the tombstone decoration; and (5) the two dating formulas, one according to the sabbatical cycle and the other numbering the years passed since the destruction

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of the Temple. Together these components form a holistic view of the afterlife: an expectation for the resurrection of the dead at the time of the deliverance of Israel, at which time the “announcer of peace”—i.e., the Messiah King or the anointed king—will come, the Temple will be rebuilt, and priests will return to their work.96 The explicit desire for the rebuilding of the Temple appears on two of the latest tombstones. This hope may also be hinted at by the tombstone decoration through such figures as the shofar, the lulav, the ark, and the menorah. In addition, the dating formula which commemorates the destruction of the temple may also articulate a hope for its rebuilding. Until the deliverance of Israel, the inscriptions voice a hope that the deceased will have a peaceful rest. Thus, the word “shalom,” which is the symbol of the deliverance, is also the symbol of the condition of the dead during the time of waiting for the resurrection. During this waiting period, the location of the grave in the Land of Israel is important for the atonement of one’s sins. The concept of afterlife in the Zoar tombstones concurs with the rabbinic view of the afterlife in late antiquity. Moreover, in this study, additional similarities between rabbinic texts and the epitaphs have been revealed. The thematic similarities are the importance of the sabbatical cycle, the commemoration of the temple, the importance of peace, and a vision of the land of Israel as an altar. In addition, one notices the same application and interpretation of particular biblical verses and formulas of prayer. Thus, it seems that the rabbis and the Jews in Zoar shared a similar religious culture.

96)

The tombstones do not provide information about the exact role of the “announcer of peace” in these future events, yet he is very central to this process of deliverance.

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Appendix 1: Tombstone 1097

97)

I would like to thank Ada Yardeni for the permission to use her illustrations of the Zoar epitaphs.

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Appendix 2: Tombstone 20

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Appendix 3: Tombstone 22

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Journal for the Study of Judaism 40 (2009) 540-550

brill.nl/jsj

Genre without a Name: Was There a Hebrew Term for “Apocalypse”?1 Alexander Kulik Department of Central and Eastern European Cultures/Department of Russian and Slavic Studies, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Mt. Scopus 91905, Israel [email protected]

Abstract Although the term for “apocalypse” is not attested as a title or genre definition in the extant corpus of Hebrew or Jewish Aramaic documents, some early Hebrew, Syriac, and Arabic texts may contain rudimentary evidence in favor of the existence of a Hebrew or Jewish Aramaic equivalent for the term. Moreover, its reconstruction can contribute to better understanding of certain wide spread apocalyptic imagery, which must be closely connected to the semantics of this term. Keywords apocalypse, revelation, book, title, terminology, reconstruction

The apocalypse is one of the best represented genres in early Jewish literature.2 Even though, like most pseudepigraphic texts, the apocalypses sur1) I thank Haggai Ben Shammai, who gave me a lead to a solution of this problem and brought my attention to the article by Shlomo Pines and to the Quranic passages S. 53.36-37; 87.19. He also gave a critical impetus to a renewed discussion of the problem by suggesting that the Arabic ṣuḥuf may be a loan translation of the Syriac gelyanaʾ (see below). Cyril Aslanov, Steven Fassberg, James Kugel, Michael Ryzhik, Dan Shapira, Michael Stone read the draft of this article and made valuable comments. I am especially grateful to Sergey Minov, who helped me considerably with the Syriac and Arabic materials. The research was supported by the Israel Science Foundation (grant no. 450/07). 2) In subsequent discussion by the “genre” of apocalypse I imply the type of revelation or the class of literary work as defined by their ancient authors or editors, rather than a literary genre as defined by modern scholars. Not only the genre definition but even the understanding of the “apocalypses” as a distinctive corpus can hardly be documented in the period under discussion (at least before the Church Fathers; cf. also Ishodad of Merv

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2009

DOI: 10.1163/004722109X12492787778805

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vived mainly in translation, at least some of these popular works must have had Hebrew and Aramaic originals. This fact contrasts strikingly with the absence of a Hebrew or Jewish Aramaic term for the genre or type of revelatory experience, a term which would correspond also to the one used as a title of some of these books. In modern Hebrew the most common equivalents for “apocalypse” are ‫ חזון‬or ‫חזיון‬, both biblical terms meaning prophetic “vision” rather than “revelation.” Recently an attempt was made to adopt a new term for use in the titles of apocalyptic writings, translated from (or retroverted into) Hebrew as ‫התגלות‬, which, even though it means “revelation,” is not attested in this usage in the classical Hebrew sources. The question then becomes: was not there an authentic Hebrew or Jewish Aramaic term corresponding to “apocalypse”? There is no equivalent term attested as a title or genre definition in the extant corpus of Hebrew or Aramaic texts. In Greek this rare noun attested for the first time only for the first century B.C.E. meant physical “uncovering” in very prosaic contexts (like “uncovering the head,” etc.) and had nothing to do revelatory experience. The verb could be used also for “revealing secrets,” but only human.3 In Jewish literature, the noun “revelation” (ἀποκάλυψις) is attested for the first time in Sir 22:22 also with the meaning “revealing of the secret” (μυστηρίου ἀποκαλύψεως) in an ethical, rather than a mystical context. “Wonders” shown by God are called ἀποκάλυψις in T. Abr. 6:8. Paul already mentions “visions and revelations [ἀποκαλύψεις] of the Lord” (2 Cor 12:1); cf. 1 Cor 14:6, 26; 2 Cor 12:7; and not quite clear Luke 2:32 (φῶς εἰς ἀποκάλυψιν ἐθνῶν), based on LXX Ps 97:2.4 The word appears in the titles of the books dated not earlier than from the late first century C.E. onward: the Apocalypse of cited below) and the definition of the “apocalyptic literature” as a literary genre belongs to the modern scholarship. Notice, e.g., the contradiction between ancient and modern genre definition of the Testament of Abraham (entitled “apocalypse” in rec. B, ms E). 3) See the reconstruction of its semantic development suggested by Smith (“History,” 12). 4) As opposed to the noun, the verb ἀποκαλύπτειν (as in Ps 97:2 mentioned above) is widely attested in the Greek Bible, where it renders the Heb ‫( גלה‬LXX Prov 11:13; cf. Sir 4:18; 41:23 (42:1); Amos 3:7; Num 22:31; 24:4, 16 (cf. 1 En. 1:2); cf. 1 Sam 2:27; 3:21; etc.) or the Aram ‫( גלא‬Theod Dan 2:19, 22, 28 et seq., 47) and in the New Testament (Matt 10:26; 11:25, 27; 16:17; Luke 2:35; 10:21, 22; 12:2; 17:30; John 12:38). Only in a few of the above passages it refers to the revelation of mysteries about the future given by God or of God himself (cf. Charles C. Torrey, “Apocalypse,” in The Jewish Encyclopedia (New York: Funk and Wagnalls, 1901), 1.669-675 at 669 and the survey of the usage of the verb in other early Jewish writings in Morton Smith, “On the History of ἀποκαλύπτω and ἀποκάλυψις,” in Apocalypticism in the Mediterranean World and the Near East:

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Abraham; Testament of Abraham (rec. B, ms E); Apocalypse of Ezra; 2 Baruch; 3 Baruch; Book of Revelation; Gnostic Apocalypse of Adam and many later Christian apocalypses.5 Among these, only the Apocalypse of Abraham obviously had a Hebrew original, but even here it is possible that the title is a later addition, especially since it is absent from some versions of the text, or appears in modified forms. Nevertheless, there is some rudimentary evidence in favor of the existence of an equivalent Hebrew, or at least Jewish Aramaic, term.6

Hebrew gilayon as “Book” The Hebrew term ‫—גליון‬from the root ‫“ גלי‬uncover, reveal” (as of Gk ἀποκαλύπτω) or, less probable, ‫“ גלל‬roll, fold, unfold [a scroll]”7—is attested in Biblical Hebrew (Isa 8:1 and 3:23). In Isa 8:1, Heb ‫ גליון‬was interpreted as meaning either writing material (Gk διφθέρωμα “piece of tanned leather [for writing]” in Aquilas and Aram ‫“ לוח‬tablet” in the Targum) or “book,” and so in the majority of the sources: Gk τόμος “volume” in LXX, τεύχος here “scroll” by Symmachus, κεφαλίς “a roll forming [part of ] a book” by Theodotion,8 Lat librum “book” by Jerome.

Hebrew gilayon as “Revelation”? In Rabbinic Hebrew the meaning of the term is more specific. The word appears in the Tosefta: ‫הגליונים וספרי המינין אינן מטמאות את הידים ספרי בן סירא וכל ספרים שנכתבו‬ .‫מכאן ואילך אינן מטמאין את הידים‬ Proceedings of the International Colloquium on Apocalypticism (Uppsala, August 12-17, 1979) (ed. David Hellholm; Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, 1983), 9-20 at 13-15. 5) Cf. Smith, “History.” 6) This possibility was first raised by Hirsch P. Chajes (see below). 7) The latter derivation is probably attested in Isa 3:23 and Gen. Rab. 19, where ‫גילון‬ means “girdle” and has a gloss ‫( איסטיכיון‬Gk στίχιον; Lat stignum). The earliest sources where the form ‫ גליון‬is obviously derived from the root ‫גלל‬, are probably much later; cf., e.g., a Hebrew liturgical poem by Nehemia of the 10th c.: . . . ‫אהג רנן בהגיון לגולל הכל בגליון‬. This can be a play of words. However, the interchange of the roots ‫ ע"ע‬and ‫ ל"י‬are well attested in Hebrew. It is also not fully clear what pattern is it in the Tosefta below: gil(l) ayon or gilyon, even though the two patterns may also merge. The interchange would be easier with the former. 8) For this meaning of κεφαλίς see PGL, 749.

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The gilyonim and the books of the heretics do not defile the hands [= are not canonical]. Books of Ben Sira and all books written from now on [or: “from then;” or “from the time, when prophecy ceased,” cf. y. Sanh. 10.28a; Seder Olam 30] do not defile the hands. (t. Yad. 2.13)

The same combination occurs also in t. Šab. 13.5: “The gilyonim and books of heretics shall not be saved from fire” (cf. y. Šab. 16.15c). In contrast to Isa 8:1, here gilyonim can hardly mean “blank sheets” (as the word was probably understood by Aquilas in Isa 8:1) or “margins of scrolls” as it is usually interpreted,9 and this for two reasons: (1) margins are already treated earlier in the same tractate, 2.11 (as also in m. Yad. 3.4; b. Šab. 116a); and (2) further discussion is concentrated on the divine names found in these texts, a discussion which would be inappropriate in connection with either blank sheets, or blank margins. The term also cannot mean “sheet” or “margin” in b. Šab. 116a, where in ‫ און גליון‬and ‫עון גליון‬, derogatory puns on εὐαγγέλιον, it rather designates “book.” We could suggest that, just as it does in the Talmud, so in the Tosefta the word may refer to Christian books, and specifically to the Gospels.10 However, in the Tosefta ‫ גליונים‬are clearly distinguished from ‫“ ספרי המינין‬the books of heretics” (with the term min often used specifically for Christians), and thus must refer to other texts, which must be neither canonic (and so not “defile the hands”), nor “heretical,” similarly to “the Books of Ben Sira 9) Thus Gedalia Alon, The Jews in Their Land in the Talmudic Age, 70-640 C.E. (2 vols.; Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1989), 1.276; Karl G. Kuhn, “Giljonim und sifre minim,” in Judentum, Urchristentum, Kirche: Festschrift für Joachim Jeremias (ed. W. Eltester; BZNW 26; Berlin: Töpelmann, 1964), 24-61; Efraim E. Urbach, “Self-Isolation or Self-Affirmation in Judaism in the First Three Centuries: Theory and Practice,” in Jewish and Christian Self-Definition. Vol. 2: Aspects of Judaism in the Graeco-Roman Period (ed. E. P. Sanders et al.; Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1981), 269-98. 10) Thus George F. Moore, “The Definition of the Jewish Canon and the Repudiation of Christian Scriptures,” in Essays in Modern Theology and Related Subjects Gathered and Published as a Testimonial to Ch. A. Briggs (New York: Scribner, 1911), 99-125, 101; Louis Ginzberg, “Some Observations on the Attitude of the Synagogue towards the ApocalypticEschatological Writings,” JBL 41 (1922), 115-36 at 122-23; Saul Lieberman, Tosefta ki-Fshutah (9 vols.; New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1955-1973), 3.206-7; Morris Goldstein, Jesus in Jewish Tradition (New York: Macmillan, 1950), 72-74; Sid Leiman, The Canonization of Hebrew Scripture: The Talmudic and Midrashic Evidence (Hamden, Conn.: Archon Books, 1976), 93 and 190-91, n. 511; Jacob Neusner, The Tosefta (6 vols.; New York: Ktav, 1977-1986), 6.333. See the discussion of the term in Steven T. Katz, “Issues in the Separation of Judaism and Christianity after 70 C.E.: A Reconsideration,” JBL 103 (1984): 43-76 at 56-59.

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and all books written from now on [or: ‘from then’; or ‘from the time, when prophecy ceased’].” One of the most popular genres belonging to this group and semantically appropriate to the term would be apocalyptic compositions. An alternative interpretation of the Tosefta passage would then be: “revelations and heretical books [Gospels?].”11 Pines adduces several instances of the adjacent use of the two terms, “revelation/reveal” and “gospel” in the New Testament (Gal 1:11-12; 16; Eph 3:15-16; 1 Pet 1:12).12

Syriac gelyanaʾ as “Revelation” Pines also cites several examples from Syriac sources, where gelyānāʾ/ gelyōnāʾ (‫ܐ‬ /‫ܐ‬ ) means “apocalypse’13 or, less probably, “gospel.”14 11)

The Tosefta thus must list three or four distinctive corpuses: apocalypses, heretic books, books of Ben Sira (wisdom literature?), and either the fourth group of the books to be written “from now on” or a general definition possibly including the groups above—of the books created after some point in the past. 12) Shlomo Pines, “Hearot al Tiqbolet ha-Qayemet beyn Munahim Suriim u-veiyn Munahim shel Leshon hazal [Notes on the Parallelism between Syriac Terminology and Mishnaic Hebrew],” in Sefer Zikaron le-Yaakov Friedmann z˝l: Qovetz Mehqarim (Jerusalem: Institute for Jewish Studies, 1974), 205-13 at 209, n. 13. Cf. also early piyyut that contains the noun ‫ גליון‬with the meaning of “revealing:” ‫ וטהרתם‬,‫טינוף טמאים בה נתודע‬ ‫ וטהורים ידעו כי מאד ניטהרו‬,‫ יום גליונה טמאים יטהרו‬,‫יידע‬. line 17; 8th c.); ‫בפירושה‬ ‫ ברכה ?שמע? לראש‬,‫ פרה איש >תם< כשלמו שניו‬,‫ אמנם כל אחת ואחת‬.‫)קדושתא לפרשת פרה‬ ‫ "ויקר?א? יעקב א >'< בניו" )סולימן יוצרות לשבתות‬,‫<ניו‬..> ‫ גיליון סוד עד לא הלך‬,‫?נ?יניו‬ ‫ ויחי‬,‫ איש תם כשלמו‬.‫ בראשית‬,‫ ;השנה‬line 1; 9th c.); and especially ,‫אדון מקדם תכנו ראש‬ ‫ אדון‬.‫ גליונו ;תחילה לכם לדרוש )קליר קדושתות לארבע פרשיות‬,‫בינו לא גל כספר תולדות ראש‬ ‫ החדש‬,‫ מקדם תכנו‬line 1; 7th cent.). The boldface here is mine, while all primary sources (some unpublished) are quoted from the database of the Academy of the Hebrew Language. 13) This interpretation was first proposed by Chajes, who noticed that the Syriac gelyānā’/ gelyōnā” is used in the titles of Syriac translations of apocalyptic writings (Hirsch P. Chajes, La lingua ebraica nel cristianesimo primitivo [Firenze: Galletti e Cassuto, 1905], 9); cf. Joseph Klausner ( Jesus of Nazareth [New York: Macmillan, 1925], 75) and Goldstein ( Jesus, 72) referring to Chajes. Cf. also Moris Friedländer’s suggestion that these are “Zauberbücher” (Die religiösen Bewegungen innerhalb des Judentums im Zeitalter Jesu [Berlin: Reimer, 1905], 188-202). 14) The example of Ishodad of Merv, Comm. on Luke 1:1, which Pines cites as an example of the use of the term as meaning “gospel,” is not very convincing. It means here, rather, revelation in the most general sense: “This of “For as much as many have wished to write,” etc. He is not speaking about Matthew and Mark; as he does not call two many; but about those who were in the habit of writing of the Gospel [‫ܢ‬ ‫̈ ܬ ܕܐܘ‬ ] without

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545

It is used in the Syriac title of the Book of Revelation as well as in the titles of several pseudepigraphic books used by the Audian Gnostics, according to Theodore bar Koni (8th c.)—“Revelation of John,” “Revelation of Abraham,” and “Revelation of Strangers.”15 In fact, the word was used also in the title of the Syriac Apocalypse of Baruch (2 Baruch): “the Book of the Apocalypse of Baruch, the son of Neriah, translated from the Greek into Syriac” ( ‫ܕ ܘܟ‬ ‫ܐ ܕ‬ ‫ܪ ܐ‬ ‫ܐ‬ ‫) ܐ ܕ‬.16 It appears also in the title of the Syriac Apocalypse of Daniel, a Christian work written in Syriac in the 7th c.: “By the power of God we record the revelation which was revealed (‫ܐ‬ ‫ )ܕܐܬ‬to Daniel the prophet in the land of Persia and Elam.”17 This term is widely attested in Syriac writings of late antiquity, where it is used to refer to actual heretical books, as in the case of Philoxenus of Mabbug (6th c.),18 or to imaginary writings, as in the Cave of Treasures (45:11): Thus also was it with the Magi. When they saw and read in the “Revelation of Nimrod” (‫ܕ ܘܕ‬ ) they discovered therein that a king was born in Judah, and the whole path of the Dispensation of Christ was revealed unto them.19

One of the earliest attestations of this term in Syriac comes from the Old Syriac Gospels. Thus, in Luke 2:32 (Sin) “revelation to the Gentiles” (ἀποκάλυψιν ἐθνῶν) is translated as ‫ܐ ܕ ̈ ܐ‬ . Notice that in the Peshitta NT (5th c.), the word has the meaning of “revelation” referring investigation; inasmuch as not only the Twelve and the Seventy wrote revelations [‫̈ ܐ‬ ]; but many others also” (Margaret D. Gibson, The Commentaries of Isho‘dad of Merv, Bishop of Hadatha (c. 850 A.D.), in Syriac and English [5 vols.; Horae Semiticae 5-7, 10-11; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1911, 1916], vol. 3.‫[ ܐ‬Syr.], 1.146 [tr.]). 15) Pines, “Hearot,” 206-9. 16) Sven Dedering and Raphaël Bidawid, The Old Testament in Syriac according to the Peshitta Version. Part IV, Fascicle 3: Apocalypse of Baruch; 4 Esdras (Leiden: Brill, 1973), 1. 17) Matthias Henze, The Syriac Apocalypse of Daniel (Studies and Texts in Antiquity and Christianity 11; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001), 33 [Syr.], 64 [tr.]. 18) “Par là sont refutés tous ces livres mensongers nommés “Révélations” (‫̈ ܐ ̈ܕ ܐ‬ ‫̈ ܐ‬ ‫ܕ‬ ‫)ܗ‬, qui ont été composés par des hérésiarques et qui contiennent des imaginations sur le monde, les demeures du firmanent, les régions, les cieux divers, les lieux de jugement distincts et les aspects divers des puissances d’en haut” (René Lavenant, La lettre à Patricius de Philoxène de Mabboug [Patrologia Orientalis 30.5; Paris: Firmin-Didot, 1963], 850 [Syr.], 851 [tr.]). 19) Su-Min Ri, La Caverne des Trésors: les deux recensions syriaques (CSCO 486, Syr. 207; Louvain: Peeters, 1987), 364-67.

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to Gk ἀποκάλυψις and φανέρωσις; see 1 Cor 14:26 ( ‫ܘܐ ܐ ܕܐ‬ ‫ܐ‬ ) and 12:7 (‫ܐ ܕܪܘ ܐ‬ ), while in the earlier Peshitta OT (2nd c.) it may mean “scroll,” rendering the Heb ‫ גליון‬in Isa 8:1 (understood as “book” by many translators of the same period; see above).

Syriac gelyanaʾ as Hebraism? Despite the definition given in some dictionaries, the form most probably did not mean “scroll, book” in early Syriac.20 When this meaning appears in dictionaries, it refers either to the Peshitta Isa 8:1 (rendering the Heb ‫ )גליון‬or to medieval Syriac-Arabic lexicographers.21 It seems that this meaning in later Syriac texts is a Biblicism based on Isa 8:1. Could “revelation” or “book of revelation” be the only meaning of the word in early Syriac? The form could hardly have been created in Syriac just for such a narrow usage. More likely, it was borrowed from the Jewish definition of the genre: only in Hebrew is the term attested in its primary meaning (“tablet, sheet, scroll, book”), while its secondary meaning (“revelation”) is better attested in multiple Syriac sources (going back to the Jewish apocalyptic tradition) and has been preserved apparently in only one original Hebrew text.22

Greek, Aramaic or Hebrew? Even if the Syriac form goes back to a Jewish term, the question arises: could not the Syriac form be merely a translation of the Greek ἀποκάλυψις? This would mean that the newly invented or borrowed from 20)

See LexSyr, 116; Louis Costaz, Dictionnaire syriaque-français. Syriac-English Dictionary (Beyrouth: Imprimerie catholique, 1963), 48. 21) Thus Payne Smith, col. 720. 22) Notice, however, that in late antiquity in Syria not only Christians, but also pagans could know the apocalyptic genre and use the term ‫ܐ‬ to refer to these writings. The Christian compiler of the florilegium of pagan philosophers introduces a fragment of the prophecy of Baba the Harranian thus: “But listen to what Baba, who actually lived in Harran, said, whose books the pagans continuously read, who is renowned as a prophet amongst them, and whom they hold as superior to all the philosophers, taking refuge in him. <. . .> He said in his first book, which they name ‘Revelation’ (‫ܗܘ‬ ‫ܘܐ‬ ‫ܐ‬ ‫ܐ ܗܘ ܕ‬ ), in (his) very words as follows <. . .>” (Sebastian P. Brock, “A Syriac Collection of Prophecies of the Pagan Philosophers,” OLP 14 (1983): 203-46, 224 [Syr.], 233 [tr.]).

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547

the Hebrew Bible Syriac noun would successfully unite the meanings of “book” attested only in Hebrew and of “revelation” attested only in JudeoGreek. This model seems too complicated. It is easier to suggest that the Hebrew or Jewish Aramaic noun derived from the Heb ‫ גלה‬or the Aram ‫ גלא‬was calqued by the Greek noun derived from the Gk ἀποκαλύπω, which in turn regularly rendered these Hebrew and Aramaic verbs (LXX Prov 11:13; cf. Sir 4:18; 41:23 (42:1); Amos 3:7; Num 22:3l; 24:4, 16; cf. 1 Sam 2:27; 3:21; etc.; Theod Dan 2:19, 22, 28, 29, 30, 47; 10:1; 11:35). Moreover, the latter model helps to explain the puzzling and unprecedented in non-Jewish Greek literature choice of the Greek term for revelatory experience or a written report of it.23 As in most cases of Greek-Hebrew/Aramaic retroversion, we do not have any decisive linguistic or cultural argument in favor of Hebrew above Jewish Aramaic or vice versa. The elements of these languages are frequently mixed in the same texts. In the situation, when we have to deal only with rudimentary pieces of evidence, the fact that Isa 8:1; 3:23 and t. Yad. 2.13 both witness Hebrew and not Aramaic forms may be accidental. Arabic ʿilliyyūna and/or ṣuḥuf as “Revelation”?

The Quran also may contain indirect evidence of similar use of the term ‫ﹺ‬ in Syriac or Jewish Aramaic. Cf. the Arabic hapax ʿilliyyūna (‫ )ﻋﻠﹼﻴﻮﻥ‬in the ‫ﱡ‬ ‫ﹶ‬ Quran 83.18-20: Most surely the record of the righteous shall be in the ʿilliyyūna. And what will make you know what the highest ʿilliyyūna is? It is a written book, those who are drawn near [to God] shall witness it.

Fränkel and Jeffrey identify the hapax as Heb ‫“ עליון‬most high,” a divine name. However, Margoliouth considers ʿilliyyūna to be a loanword, from the Syriac ghilliyyūna (‫ܐ‬ ), emending the first letter to ‫( ﻍ‬by just adding a dot) and reconstructing the meaning from the Heb ‫ גליון‬of Isa 8:1 understood as “some sort of tablet on which something was written.”24 Note also that ʿilliyyūna is a written book” (see above “Hebrew gilayon as 23) The choice of the term—a rare Greek noun without a trace of any prophetic connotations—demanded explanation already in the times of Jerome (Comm. to Gal 1:11f.). Cf. Smith discussing this enigma (“History,” 9-13). 24) David S. Margoliouth, “Some Additions to Professor Jeffery’s Foreign Vocabulary of the

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A. Kulik / Journal for the Study of Judaism 40 (2009) 540-550

“book”). What Margoliouth does not take into account is that the Syriac and possibly also the Hebrew form have the meaning of “revelation” as well (where for the Syriac this is, in fact, the primary meaning; see above), which is the meaning quite appropriate here. On the presentation of revelation as “book” in pseudepigraphic literature see below.25 Pseudepigraphic apocalyptic literature (Apocalypse of Abraham and Apocalypse of Moses?) referring to the other, “better and more lasting” world must have been known to the Quran:26 You prefer the life of this world, while the hereafter is better and more lasting. Most surely this is in the earlier scrolls, the Scrolls of Abraham and ‫ﹺ ﹺ ﹺ‬ Moses [ṣuḥufi ʾibrāhīma wa mūsā ( ‫ﺍﻫﻴﻢ ﻭﻣﻮﺳﻰ‬ ‫]) ﹸﺻ ﹸﺤﻒ ﺇﺑﹾ ﹶﺮ ﹶ ﹶ ﹸ ﹶ‬. (87.16-19; cf. “scrolls of Moses, and Abraham” used also in 53.36-37)

The Arabic ṣuḥuf also appears in Quran 20.133; 74.52; 80.13; 81.10; 98.1-3. Ben Shammai suggests that the term, which normally denotes writing material or “scroll,” may here be a loan translation of the polysemantic Syriac gelyanaʾ probably having the same two meanings of “scroll” and “apocalypse.’27

Hebrew gilayon as “Book of Revelation” Based on all the above, we can conclude that: (1) The Hebrew ‫( גליון‬a noun of the root meaning “uncover, reveal’) is attested as designating writing material (tablet, sheet or scroll) in Biblical and Rabbinic Hebrew; (2) The term developed the meaning of “volume, book,” and was thus interpreted by ancient translators of Isa 8:1; (3) At the same time, the corresponding form also means “revelation” in multiple Syriac sources (probably dependent on Hebrew usage) and apparently in the Hebrew text of t. Yad. 2.13 and parallels (the usage reflected possibly also in the Quran at Qurʾan,” JRAS (1939): 51-61 at 57-58; repr. in What the Koran Really Says: Language, Text and Commentary (ed. Ibn Warraq; New York: Prometheus, 2002), 193-200 at 197. 25) See also another “written book” parallel or opposed to ʿilliyyūna in Quran 83:7-9. 26) Thus Josef Horovitz, Koranische Untersuchungen (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1926), 69; Heinrich Speyer, Die biblischen Erzählungen im Qoran (Hildesheim: Olms, 1961), 125-26; and Haggain Ben Shammai, “Ṣuḥuf in the Quran—a Loan Translation for ‘Apocalypses’,” forthcoming in the proceedings of the Pines Memorial Workshop. 27) For the detailed discussion of the term, see Ben Shammai, “Ṣuḥuf in the Quran.”

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549

83.18-20); (4) This is either a case of polysemy based on a common semantic field of “opening,” appropriate as for “scroll, book,” so also for “revelation,” or of homonymy, where two identical (at least in consonant form) nouns could be derived from two different roots, gll “roll” and gly “uncover.” If this polysemy or homonymy was also characteristic of the language of early Hebrew and Aramaic apocalyptic literature, titles like ‫גליון ברוך‬ (as Syr ‫ܕ ܘܟ‬ for 2 Baruch), ‫גליון אברהם‬, and the like may have had a double meaning: “Revelation/Book of . . .” This double meaning of the hypothetical original Hebrew or Aramaic term may be reflected in the discrepancies in its renderings in other languages, as, e.g., in Origen’s evidence of the “Book of Baruch” (Baruch prophetae librum) referring in Princ. 2.3.6 to an apocalyptic vision possibly identical or close to what is known in Greek as the “Apocalypse of Baruch” (ἀποκάλυψις Βαρούχ).28

“Books of Revelation” and “Revealed Books” The book/scroll imagery well attested in apocalyptic settings may also have to do with this double meaning. This word play could follow the near universal topos of the celestial book(s) revealed, on the one hand, and it may give it a new impetus, on the other. The demonstrating and unrolling or unsealing of the scroll occupy a central place in many apocalyptic narratives. In Isa 29:11-12, “the whole [prophetic] vision” (‫)חזות הכל‬ is compared to “the words of the sealed book” (‫)דברי הספר החתום‬. In Ezek 2:9-3:3, revelation is accompanied by eating, “filling the belly” with the “sweet” celestial scroll (Heb ‫ מגילה‬or ‫ ;מגילת ספר‬Ezek 3:1-3). Receiving a revelation, Enoch actually “received books of zeal and wreath as well as the books of haste and whirlwind” (1 En 39:2). The content here alludes to Ezek 2:9-10, but the “books” of 1 Enoch are more than lists of eschatological woes: thus Enoch observes “books of the living” opened before God (47:3), reads “the tablets of heaven, all the writing, and came to understand everything . . . [he] reads the book of all the deeds of humanity and all the children of the flesh upon the earth for all the generations of the world” (81:1-2; cf. 93:1-15; 106:19). Also the destiny of 28) “They summon the Book of Baruch the Prophet to bear witness to this assertion, because in it the seven worlds or heavens are more clearly pointed out.” This discrepancy is instructive more as a model, than as evidence for a Semitic original of 3 Baruch. We do not know if it had one.

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A. Kulik / Journal for the Study of Judaism 40 (2009) 540-550

the “sheep” (Israel) is written in the book, read to the Lord, and sealed by him (81:67-77; 90:20-21). Enoch, in turn, also writes his revelation down and transmits it in this form to his son: “I have revealed to you and given you the book about all these things” (82:1; italics here and hereafter are mine—A.K.). Enoch copies celestial books and writes down his visions in heaven also in 2 En. 22:11; 23:3; 33:2-10; and more. The sealed scroll (βιβλίον) of Rev 5 has much in common as with the Book of Ezekiel, so also with 1 Enoch. When unsealed, it reveals visions of the eschatological future (Rev 6-8). Following Ezek 3:1-3, revelation and prophetic initiation in the Book of Revelation is accomplished through demonstrating and eating a celestial “little opened scroll” βιβλαρίδιον ἠνεῳγμένον; Rev 10:2-11). Herm. Vis. 1.2.2; 2.1.3-2.2.1; 2.4.2-3 develop the same motifs; see, e.g., “I transcribed the whole of it [book] letter by letter . . . the knowledge of the writing was revealed to me” (2.1.3-2.2.1). The Cologne Mani Codex of the 5th c. referring to (possibly alleged) “Apocalypses” of Adam, Sethel, Shem, Enosh, and Enoch, says: “[E]ach one of the forefathers showed his own Apocalypse to his elect, which he chose and brought together in that generation in which he appeared, and how he wrote (it) and bequeathed (it) to posterity” (CMC 47.1-16; 62.9-63.7).29 The new term might serve to distinguish later apocalyptic experiences or literary genres from biblical prophetic encounters entitled “visions” (‫מחזה‬, ‫חזיון‬, ‫חזון‬, for example, in the biblical “Vision of Isaiah,” “Vision of Obadiah,” and others), as Paul distinguishes between ὀπτασίας “visions” and ἀποκαλύψεις “revelations” in 2 Cor 12:1. The semantic ambiguity of the word ‫ גליון‬used to mean “apocalyptic book” may reflect the development of prophetic/apocalyptic concepts and practices: (1) less figurative conceptions of revelation, including the revealing of written materials, i.e., revelatory reading rather than seeing; and (2) a functional form of the genre, written rather than oral.

29)

There may be a general semiotic/infralinguistic basis for the metaphor of the book as revelation. In an ancient civilization the book (that is, the scroll) is by definition something that needs to be uncovered in order to show what it contains. I thank Cyril Aslanov for this consideration.

Journal for the Study of Judaism 40 (2009) 551-572

brill.nl/jsj

Why Does R. Akiba Acclaim Bar Kokhba as Messiah?* Matthew V. Novenson Biblical Studies Department, Princeton Theological Seminary 46 Mercer St., Princeton, NJ 08542, USA [email protected]

Abstract Peter Schäfer has argued that the name of R. Akiba is secondary to y. Taʿan. 4:8/27, in which R. Akiba is said to have acclaimed Bar Kokhba as messiah. Some interpreters have countered, however, that rabbinic haggadah would not attribute such an embarrassing position to R. Akiba if he had not held it. In response to both these arguments, I propose that the R. Akiba-Bar Kokhba tradition fits a pattern of talmudic stories about the Second Revolt in which the rabbis are anachronistically cast in a position of influence. This tradition is an example of a late antique literary topos attested in Jewish, Christian, and pagan sources in which a founder of a minority movement is remembered as having conversed with a contemporary world leader. In short, both Schäfer and his critics are right: R. Akiba was not originally part of the tradition preserved in y. Taʿan. 4:8/27, but there is a compelling tradition-historical rationale for inserting him there. Keywords R. Akiba, Bar Kokhba, late antiquity, literary topos, messiah, rabbis

One of the classic moments in the rabbinic narrative of the tannaitic period is when R. Akiba b. Joseph sees Simeon bar Kosiba, the leader of the Second Jewish Revolt against Rome, and says of him, “This is the king messiah.”1 The actual history of the Second Revolt seemed to belie this *) I owe sincere thanks to James Charlesworth, Martha Himmelfarb, Peter Schäfer, and my two anonymous readers at JSJ, all of whom read and rendered helpful feedback on earlier drafts of this article. Whatever deficiencies remain are entirely my own responsibility. 1) This story is preserved at y. Taʿan. 4:8/27, with a parallel at Lam. Rab. 2:2 §4 (cf. Lam. © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2009

DOI: 10.1163/004722109X12499530635251

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M. V. Novenson / Journal for the Study of Judaism 40 (2009) 551-572

claim, however, and consequently the reason for R. Akiba’s apparently mistaken acclamation of Bar Kokhba became a problem. Attempts to answer the question why R. Akiba acclaims Bar Kokhba as messiah go back at least as far as Lamentations Rabbah. The midrash at Lam. Rab. 2:2 §4 reads:2 ‫ומה היה עושה בן כוזיבא היה מקבל אבני בליסטרא באחד מארכובותיו וזורקן‬ ‫והורג מהן כמה נפשות ועל זה א״ר עקיבא כך‬ And what did Ben Koziba used to do? He used to catch the ballistas from the enemy’s catapults on one of his legs and throw them back, killing many men. For this reason R. Akiba spoke thus.

The midrash’s explanation, like many subsequent explanations for the same tradition, is a historical one. It points to a characteristic of Bar Kokhba that might have warranted R. Akiba’s remarkable declaration. It answers the question, Why does R. Akiba acclaim Bar Kokhba as messiah in the tradition? by explaining why R. Akiba did acclaim Bar Kokhba as messiah in historical fact.3 By and large, this is the approach taken by earlier generations of rabbinicists and historians, who tended to associate R. Akiba and Bar Kokhba quite closely on the testimony of y. Taʿan. 4:8/27 and its parallel in Lamentations Rabbah.4 Some recent interpreters, however, have made more Rab. ed. Buber, p. 101); for a detailed treatment, see further below. Per the SBL Handbook of Style, I consistently use the transliteration Akiba, only preserving alternate spellings (Aqiba, Akiva, etc.) in quotations. Likewise, per convention, I use Bar Kokhba to refer to the leader of the revolt, only occasionally preserving his patronym in its several spellings in quotations. 2) I follow the Hebrew text of Mosheh Mirkin, Midrash Rabbah (11 vols.; Tel Aviv: Yavneh, 1977), who preserves the recension of the original Pesaro edition of 1519. Where relevant, I note differences with the edition of Salomon Buber, Midrasch Echa Rabbati (Wilna, 1899; repr. Hildesheim, 1967), who follows the text of Biblioteca Casanata MS J.I.4. The Genizah fragments published by Zvi Meir Rabinovitz (“Genizah Fragments of Midrash Ekha Rabba,” 6th WCJS [Jerusalem, 1977], 3:437-39 [Hebrew]) do not attest our passage. All translations are my own unless otherwise noted. 3) See the apt comment of Adele Reinhartz, “Rabbinic Perceptions of Simeon bar Kosiba,” JSJ 20 (1989): 171-94 at 185: “Because this connection seems to be an afterthought rather than an integral part of the story, and because it is not paralleled elsewhere, it seems likely that these words . . . are a scribal gloss.” That is, this explanation is secondary to the account of the messianic acclamation itself. 4) See, e.g., the treatments of Heinrich Graetz, History of the Jews (5 vols.; Philadelphia:

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critical assessments of the sources.5 No new consensus has emerged, though, and many remain convinced of the historical authenticity of the R. Akiba-Bar Kokhba connection.6 One important contribution to the recent discussion is Peter Schäfer’s literary-critical argument, first advanced in 1978, that the name of R. Akiba is actually secondary to the tradition in y. Taʿan. 4:8/27 in which Bar Kokhba is acclaimed as messiah.7 If so, then the historical connection between R. Akiba and Bar Kokhba becomes quite tenuous.8 Others have objected, however, that, in light of the tendency of talmudic haggadah to preserve the good names of the sages,

JPS, 1891-1898), 2:409-10; Louis Finkelstein, Akiba: Scholar, Saint and Martyr (New York: Covici-Friede, 1936); Michael Avi-Yonah, The Jews of Palestine: A Political History from the Bar Kokhba War to the Arab Conquest (New York: Schocken, 1976; Hebrew original 1946); E. Mary Smallwood, The Jews under Roman Rule: From Pompey to Diocletian (Leiden: Brill, 1976), 428-66, esp. 439. 5) See, e.g., G. S. Aleksandrov, “The Role of Aqiba in the Bar Kokhba Rebellion,” trans. Sam Driver, in Eliezer ben Hyrcanus, vol. 2 (ed. Jacob Neusner; Leiden: Brill, 1973), 422-36; Leo Mildenberg, “Bar Kokhba Coins and Documents,” HSCP 84 (1980): 311-35; idem, The Coinage of the Bar Kokhba War (Zürich: Schweizerische Numismatische Gesellschaft, 1984); Peter Schäfer, “Rabbi Aqiva and Bar Kokhba,” Approaches to Ancient Judaism, Volume II (ed. William Scott Green; BJS 9; Chico, Cal.: Scholars, 1980), 113-30; idem, Der Bar Kokhba-Aufstand: Studien zum zweiten jüdischen Krieg gegen Rom (TSAJ 1; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1981); idem, “Bar Kokhba and the Rabbis,” in The Bar Kokhba War Reconsidered: New Perspectives on the Second Jewish Revolt against Rome (ed. Peter Schäfer; TSAJ 100; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 1-22. On the late-twentieth century revival of scholarly interest in the Second Revolt, see Benjamin Isaac and Aaron Oppenheimer, “The Revolt of Bar Kokhba: Ideology and Modern Scholarship,” JJS 36 (1985): 33-60. 6) See, e.g., Reinhartz, “Rabbinic Perceptions”; Joel Marcus, “Mark 14:61: ‘Are You the Messiah-Son-of-God?’” NovT 31 (1989): 125-41, esp. 128; John J. Collins, The Scepter and the Star (ABRL; New York: Doubleday, 1995), 13, 126; Craig A. Evans, “Was Simon ben Kosiba Recognized as Messiah?” in Jesus and His Contemporaries (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 183-212; Menahem Mor, “The Geographical Scope of the Bar-Kokhba Revolt,” in The Bar Kokhba War Reconsidered, 107-31. 7) See Schäfer, “R. Aqiva und Bar Kokhba,” in Studien zur Geschichte und Theologie des Rabbinischen Judentums (AGJU 15; Leiden: Brill, 1978), 65-121; and subsequently in idem, “Rabbi Aqiva and Bar Kokhba”; idem, Bar Kokhba-Aufstand. In 2003 Schäfer commented that his “argument to throw Akiva out of the text” of y. Taʿan. 4:8/27 “unfortunately hasn’t been noticed by most of my colleagues—presumably because it is in German or rather complicated or both” (idem, “Bar Kokhba and the Rabbis,” 3). 8) Schäfer concludes, “Sie bedeutete, dass der einzige Text, der einen unmittelbaren Zusammenhang zwischen Aqiva und Bar Kokhba herstellt, zweifelhaft ist” (idem, Der Bar Kokhba-Aufstand, 169).

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there would have been no reason to attribute such a view to R. Akiba if he had not in fact held it.9 My aim in this article is to sort out these difficulties and to explain the tradition-historical rationale for the messianic acclamation. My thesis is that rabbinic tradition has R. Akiba acclaim Bar Kokhba as messiah because the blemish to R. Akiba’s reputation (namely, that he is remembered as having endorsed a failed messiah) is worth trading for the overall picture of the early rabbinic movement that results (namely, that the rabbis were present and influential at the time of the Second Revolt). More specifically, I argue that y. Taʿan. 4:8/27 is an example of a late antique literary topos in which a founder of a minority movement is remembered as having conversed with a contemporary world leader. This explanation resolves the tension in the secondary literature: Schäfer is right that R. Akiba was not originally part of the tradition preserved in y. Taʿan. 4:8/27, but Schäfer’s critics are right that there must be a compelling traditionhistorical rationale for inserting him there. It is just a different traditionhistorical rationale than the one that is usually suggested.

The Acclamation Account For all its influence upon modern historians of ancient Judaism, the tradition that R. Akiba acclaimed Bar Kokhba as messiah is preserved in just a single account at y. Taʿan. 4:8/27 with a parallel in Lamentations Rabbah.10 It reads as follows:11

9) See, e.g., Joseph Heinemann, “The Messiah of Ephraim and the Premature Exodus of the Tribe of Ephraim,” HTR 68 (1975): 1-15; N. T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1997), 627; Evans, “Was Simon ben Kosiba Recognized?” 203. 10) On the history of interpretation of the passage, see Schäfer, Der Bar Kokhba-Aufstand, 55-57. Cf. the parallels at Lam. Rab. 2:2 §4: “R. Yohanan said, ‘Rabbi used to expound, A star goes out from Jacob [Num 24:17] thus: “Do not read star [‫ ]כוכב‬but liar [‫]כוזב‬.”’ When R. Akiba beheld Bar Koziva, he exclaimed, ‘This is the king messiah’”; and Lam. Rab. ed. Buber, p. 101: “R. Yohanan said, ‘When R. Akiba beheld Ben Koziva, he said, “A star goes out from Jacob [Num 24:17]—Kokhba goes out from Jacob; this is the king messiah.” ’ ” 11) For the Yerushalmi, I follow the Hebrew text of MS Leiden as printed by Peter Schäfer and Hans-Jürgen Becker, eds., Synopse zum Talmud Yerushalmi, vol. II/5-12 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001), noting other readings where appropriate.

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.‫ דרך כוזבא מיעקב‬.‫תני ר׳ שמעון בן יוחי עקיבה רבי היה דורש דרך כוכב מיעקב‬ ‫ אמ׳ ליה ר׳ יוחנן‬.‫ר׳ עקיבה כד הוה חמי בר כוזבה הוה אמ׳ דין הוא מלכא משיחא‬ ‫בן תורתא עקיבה יעלו עשבים בלחייך ועדיין בן דוד לא יבא‬ R. Shimon b. Yohai taught, “My teacher Akiba used to expound, A star [‫ ]כוכב‬goes out from Jacob [Num 24:17], ‘Koziba [‫ ]כוזבא‬goes out from Jacob.’” When R. Akiba saw Bar Koziba, he said, “This is the king messiah.” R. Yohanan b. Torta said to him, “Akiba, grass will come up between your cheeks and still the son of David will not have come.”

The passage comprises three parts: the midrash on Num 24:17, the acclamation of Bar Kokhba as messiah, and the cynical response by R. Yohanan b. Torta. R. Akiba is a named character in each of the three parts, part one being a second-hand report of his teaching, and parts two and three together relating an exchange between him and R. Yohanan b. Torta. While it is structurally straightforward, though, the passage has a a number of literary anomalies that have been highlighted by Schäfer and Mildenberg.12 First, there is some confusion as to the authors of the tradition. In the Yerushalmi version, R. Simeon b. Yohai hands down the interpretation of Num 24:17 and R. Yohanna b. Torta rejects it, while in Lamentations Rabbah R. Yohanan himself hands down the interpretation.13 Moreover, the initial attribution (“R. Shimon b. Yohai taught, ‘My teacher Akiba used to expound’ ”) is also suspect. It is a close formal parallel to the introductory formula of the preceding unit (“It has been taught, R. Judah b. R. Elai said, ‘My teacher Barukh used to expound’ ”), where Barukh, supposedly the teacher of R. Judah b. R. Elai, is otherwise unknown to us. In light of the talmudic commonplace of attributing traditions simply to Rabbi (either R. Judah the Patriarch or an unspecified “my teacher”), the possibility arises that the name Barukh is a later specifying addition. If this is the case in the preceding unit, and our unit uses the same awkward introductory formula, then it may be that our unit is similarly misattributed, so that it properly begins not “R. Akiba used to expound,” but simply “Rabbi used to expound,” that is, an attribution to an anonymous sage living at the time of the Second Revolt. This possibility is directly 12) Schäfer, “Rabbi Aqiva and Bar Kokhba,” 118-19; idem, “Bar Kokhba and the Rabbis,” 3-4; Mildenberg, Coinage, 73-76. 13) See further Schäfer, “Rabbi Aqiva and Bar Kokhba,” 118: “It seems that Lam. R. and Lam. R. Buber offer a secondary, revised text with regard to the ‘authors.’”

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supported by the parallel at Lam. Rab. 2:2 §4, which lacks the name of Akiba.14 Second, the tradition is preserved entirely in Hebrew except for the acclamation itself, which is in Aramaic: ‫דין הוא מלכא משיחא‬, “This is the king messiah.” This most important part of the unit stands out linguistically from the rest.15 This could be a mark of a primitive Aramaic original, as some have suggested.16 Alternatively, it is equally possible that it betrays a later archaizing interpolation into an existing Hebrew tradition.17 If other formal features of the unit, like the unusual introductory formula, point in the direction of inauthenticity, then it is proportionately more likely that the Aramaic fragment is an archaizing interpolation rather than a primitive kernel. On balance, there is reason to conclude with Schäfer that the AkibaBar Kokhba connection is suspect on literary-critical grounds. Not that R. Akiba could not have made such a statement, but the tradition that has in fact come down to us bears several telltale marks of inauthenticity.18 14)

See Lam. Rab. 2:2 §4: “R. Yohanan said, ‘Rabbi used to expound, A star goes out from Jacob [Num 24:17] thusly: “Do not read star [‫ ]כוכב‬but liar [‫]כוזב‬.” ’ ” See further Schäfer, “Bar Kokhba and the Rabbis,” 3. 15) But cf. the version of Lam. Rab., ed. Buber, which “reduces what apparently was originally a three-part construction to the argument between Aqiva and Yohanan by combining the middle part with the interpretation of Numbers 24:17 (whereby linguistically a mixture of Hebrew and Aramaic is the result)” (Schäfer, “Rabbi Aqiva and Bar Kokhba,” 118). 16) See Evans, “Was Simon ben Kosiba Recognized?” 195, 203: “Aqiba’s statement in line 3 . . . is in Aramaic, and is probably a later insertion. But this does not mean that it is itself late or inauthentic . . . The Aramaic statement, ‘This is the King Messiah’ approximates the actual words of Aqiba.” 17) See Schäfer, “Rabbi Aqiva and Bar Kokhba,” 118: “It is therefore more likely, from the literary point of view, that the Aramaic middle part in y. Ta. and Lam. R. was added at a later date between Aqiva’s interpretation and Yohanan’s retort and therefore can be rejected as a marginal comment.” 18) So Schäfer, “Rabbi Aqiva and Bar Kokhba,” 119: “That this interpretation stems in reality from Aqiva can be neither proved nor disproved with certainty.” Mildenberg’s argument, though, is quite different at this point. He argues that no contemporary could have thought of Bar Kokhba as messiah, and he rejects the acclamation as “a tradition which originated in a misunderstanding of a much later time and, therefore, cannot be considered as historical evidence” (“Coins and Documents,” 315; cf. Coinage, 76). Mildenberg is probably right about the passage but wrong about the movement. It is better to understand the Bar Kokhba revolt as a messianic movement but to regard this particular tradition as suspect.

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It is not impossible that R. Akiba was one of those who recognized Bar Kokhba as messiah, but the traditional picture of their association has been arrived at in a circular fashion. From the single datum of the messianic acclamation, it has been inferred that other Akiba traditions—especially his Diaspora journeys and his martyrdom—also relate to the Bar Kokhba rebellion. This overall reconstruction then serves to reinforce the authenticity of the messianic acclamation. When we bracket those other traditions and consider the acclamation alone, the reasons for questioning its authenticity become apparent.19 This argument for the inauthenticity of the acclamation account has exercised some influence in the secondary literature, but it has repeatedly run up against an objection having to do with the prevailing tendency of the Talmud to preserve the good names of the sages. This objection runs as follows: Because Bar Kokhba was manifestly not the messiah, and because the Talmud has a stake in perpetuating the honor of the Yavnean sages, there would have been no reason to attribute the acclamation to R. Akiba if he had not in fact made it.20 Joseph Heinemann made a form of this argument in an important 1975 article, in which he proposes that the messiah of Ephraim of later rabbinic legend was a way of compensating for the apparent falsification of R. Akiba’s acclamation. Heinemann writes, “The Rabbis of the postHadrianic generation, who were all, to some degree, disciples of R. Akivah, would hardly have imputed such a gigantic fraud to their master after his martyrdom. On the contrary, this generation must have attempted, by hook or by crook, to achieve the impossible: to uphold Bar Kokhba’s messianity

19)

Already a century ago, Louis Ginzberg perceptively distinguished between the acclamation tradition and the many other Akiba traditions, which in modern “lives of Akiba” have been persistently conflated. On Akiba’s journeys, Ginzberg writes, “The numerous journeys which, according to rabbinical sources, Akiba is said to have made, cannot have been in any way connected with politics” (Louis Ginzberg, “Akiba ben Joseph,” JE 1:305). And, more important still, on Akiba’s martyrdom by Hadrian, “He suffered martyrdom on account of his transgression of Hadrian’s edicts against the practice and the teaching of the Jewish religion, a religious and not a political reason for his death being given” (ibid.). 20) This line of reasoning has close affinities with the so-called “criterion of embarrassment” in modern Jesus research: sayings or actions that tend to cast a hero in a bad light are likely authentic, since they are not the sort of thing that the tradition would have made up (on which see John P. Meier, “Criteria: How Do We Decide What Comes from Jesus?” in The Historical Jesus in Recent Research [ed. James D. G. Dunn and Scot McKnight; Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2005], 123-44, esp. 126-29).

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in spite of his failure.”21 More recently, N. T. Wright has made a similar argument for the authenticity of the acclamation: “The rejection of Messianism in post-135 rabbinic thinking makes it all the more likely that this reference, preserved against the tendency of the tradition (to exonerate a hero like Akiba from complicity in the failed revolt), is historically well founded.”22 More recently still, Craig Evans has defended the acclamation on the very same grounds: Invoking the “criterion of embarrassment” . . . I contend that the rabbinic tradition would not embarrass itself by inventing a tradition in which Rabbi Aqiba, the revered master of halakah, is portrayed as applying Num 24:17 to Simon ben Kosiba, a tradition which the rabbis then have to find ways of debunking. I think that it is much more reasonable to assume that the tradition is authentic and that the Aramaic statement, “This is the King Messiah” approximates the actual words of Aqiba.23

The scandal posed by the falsification of the acclamation, albeit considerable, should not be overstated. Attribution of the acclamation to R. Akiba certainly need not and probably does not suggest fraud, but rather misplaced messianic hopes.24 Granted, this still amounts to a blemish on R. Akiba’s memory, but not nearly so great a blemish as if he appeared to be wicked, not merely wrong. The acclamation tradition, authentic or not, paints R. Akiba as a sadly mistaken messianic dreamer. This is unsurprising, since we already know that the tendency to protect the reputation of the sages has its limits. If we bracket the question of his association with Bar Kokhba, the tradition is already critical of Akiba for other reasons. As Urbach rightly noted, “The Sages, who disapproved of R. Akiba’s attitude toward Bar Kokhba, also disagreed with his principles,” namely his eschatological fervor, that he was known for being one of the ‫מחשבי קיצין‬, 21)

Heinemann, “Messiah of Ephraim,” 9. Samson H. Levey takes this line of reasoning even further, making the claim that R. Akiba is himself the messiah of Ephraim: “I venture a radical, mystical interpretation, which no scholar has ever articulated, and which the Tradition would never dare to admit. It is the Torah Messiah, who is killed leading the Torah’s battle against Rome. Here is my equation: Akiba ben Yosef = Mashiaḥ ben Yosef ” (Samson H. Levey, “Akiba: Sage in Search of the Messiah; A Closer Look,” Judaism 41 [1992]: 334-45, here 345). 22) Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God, 627. It is imprecise, however, to speak of a wholesale rejection of messianism by the rabbis after 135. 23) Evans, “Was Simon ben Kosiba Recognized?” 203. 24) Pace Heinemann, “Messiah of Ephraim,” 9.

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“those who calculate the end.”25 It is not that these traditions do not hold R. Akiba in high regard. Rather, it is that another tendency (namely, the tendency to discourage eschatological speculation) trumps the tendency to exalt R. Akiba. Multiple impulses are at work, but in any given case some are stronger than others. The question, then, is what impulses could be at work in the acclamation account to warrant attributing the saying to R. Akiba. Given that whatever claim Bar Kokhba may have had to messiahship was decisively silenced at Bethar in 135, what reason could the tradition have for making Akiba endorse him after the fact? Anticipating this objection, Schäfer reasons, “The fact that [R. Akiba] was the most prominent victim of the Roman persecution during and immediately after the revolt made him (at least for later tradents) the ideal candidate to whom to assign the messianic interpretation of Num 24:17 as referring to Bar Kokhba.”26 This is true enough. Granted that, once the decision is made to attribute the messianic acclamation to a contemporary tanna, R. Akiba is an obvious choice. But why attribute the acclamation to anyone at all? This question is only answerable by means of a comparative study of some other rabbinic accounts of Bar Kokhba.

Other Talmudic Bar Kokhba Accounts One remarkable passage in the Bavli purports to comment on Bar Kokhba’s relation not to R. Akiba in particular but to the rabbis collectively. At b. Sanh. 93b we read:27

25) E. E. Urbach, The Sages: Their Concepts and Beliefs (2 vols.; trans. Israel Abrahams; Jerusalem: Magnes, 1979), 674. For example, the famous passage at b. Sanh. 97b in which R. Samuel b. Naḥmani says in the name of R. Jonathan, “Blasted be the bones of those who calculate the end [‫]אתיפח עצמן של מחשבי קיצין‬. For they would say, since the predetermined time has arrived, and yet he has not come, he will never come” (trans. H. Freedman in Sanhedrin [ed. Isidore Epstein; London: Soncino, 1987]), is reported as a response to the views of several such sages, including R. Akiba, who is said to have appealed to Hag 2:6: ‫עוד אחת מעט היא ואני מרעיש את השמים ואת הארץ‬, “Once more, soon, I will shake the heavens and the earth.” For other eschatological disputes involving R. Akiba, see further m. Sanh. 10:3; t. Sanh. 13:9-11; y. Sanh. 10:4-6 29c; b. Sanh. 110b; b. Sanh. 38b; b. Ḥ ag. 14a; Midr. Tanḥ. B on Lev. 19:1-2. 26) Schäfer, “Bar Kokhba and the Rabbis,” 4. 27) I follow the Hebrew text of Epstein’s Soncino edition.

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‫בר כוזיבא מלך תרתין שנין ופלגא אמר להו לרבנן אנא משיח אמרו ליה במשיח‬ ‫כתיב דמורח ודאין נחזי אנן אי מורח ודאין כיון דחזיוהו דלא מורח ודאין קטלוהו‬ Bar Koziba reigned two and a half years. He said to the rabbis, “I am the messiah.” They said to him, “Of the messiah it is written, He smells and judges [Isa 11:3-4]. Let us see whether he smells and judges.” When they saw that he was unable to smell and judge, they killed him.

This is the only source in which Bar Kokhba is said to make a messianic claim for himself: ‫אנא משיח‬, “I am the messiah.”28 R. Akiba is nowhere to be found; the dramatis personae are the rabbis on the one hand and Bar Kokhba on the other. The difficult saying about the shoot from the stump of Jesse in Isaiah 11:3 becomes a test of messianic authenticity.29 Bar Kokhba fails the test and is executed by the rabbis. There is little or no historical kernel to be found in this story. It is virtually certain that Bar Kokhba died at the hand of the Romans in the course of the revolt, probably in the final standoff at Bethar. His trial before the sages is entirely fictional.30 But if so, why? What purpose does the story serve? In answering this question, interpreters have been largely concerned with sorting out the extent and nature of rabbinic approval or disapproval of Bar Kokhba conveyed by the story. Hugo Mantel, for example, argues that because judgment by smelling is the only test that Bar Kokhba is said to fail, the implication is that he met all the other rabbinic criteria for the messiah.31 A majority of interpreters, on the other 28) Indeed, this is one of a very few passages in which any ancient messiah figure actually claims the role for himself. J. C. O’Neill (“The Mocking of Bar Kokhba and of Jesus,” JSJ 31 [2000]: 39-41) points to a parallel at Mark 14:62, which is textually uncertain, however (ἐγώ εἰμι in NA27, but perhaps σὺ εἶπας ὅτι ἐγώ εἰμι). 29) Isa 11:3 MT reads: ‫והריחו ביראת יהוה ולא למראה עיניו ישפוט ולא למשמע אזניו יוכיח‬, “His smelling [or delight?] shall be in the fear of the Lord; he shall not judge by the vision of his eyes nor decide by the hearing of his ears.” 30) Recognizing this fact, O’Neill suggests that the account is actually a stray Jesus tradition: “I wonder if the rabbinic account about the execution of Bar Kokhba by his compatriots was not a version of an earlier account of the trial of Jesus . . . It is not impossible that the lives and fate of two messianic pretenders who were active for two-and-a-half or three-and-a-half years were told together and, in this case, conflated” (O’Neill, “Mocking,” 41). This suggestion, while fascinating, suffers from an insufficiency of positive evidence. 31) Hugo Mantel, “The Causes of the Bar Kokhba Revolt,” JQR 58 (1968): 224-42 and 274-96, here 282: “The Talmud . . . implies that Bar Kokhba was short of only one quality to make him Messiah: he was unable to smell whether a litigant was right or

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hand, understand this story as a round rejection of Bar Kokhba’s messianic claim by the rabbinic tradition.32 In this case the majority opinion is surely the better of the two, but better still is to ask what else this story is doing. Arguably the most striking thing about the story is not the content of the rabbis’ verdict, but that the rabbis are in a position to issue a verdict at all. Certainly Bar Kokhba never actually appeared before “the rabbis” to have his messianic claim tested. So far as we know, there was no such group before whom he could have been brought.33 What the story does is to put the rabbis in a fictive position of judicial authority over Bar Kokhba, which is especially ironic since the documents from the Judean Desert suggest that if anyone held court in this way at the time, it was Bar Kokhba himself.34 But the Bavli writes the rabbis into the story, into a role that they cannot possibly have occupied in the 130s C.E., but one closer to the role that they did occupy at the time of the telling. If this dynamic is at work in this highly imaginative account, one must ask whether it might also be at work in some ostensibly more historical passages. In the ongoing discussion of the rabbis’ opinions for or against the revolt, another passage in Yerushalmi Taʿanit has been thought to especially suggest cooperation between the rabbis and the rebels. The relevant bit at y. Taʿan. 4:8/28 reads as follows:

wrong. Apparently, the Talmud held that all the other qualities which Isaiah ascribes to the son of David were fulfilled in him.” 32) So Schäfer, Bar Kokhba-Aufstand, 58; Joshua Efron, “Bar Kokhba in Light of the Palestinian and Babylonian Talmudic Traditions,” in The Bar Kokhba Revolt: New Studies (ed. Aaron Oppenheimer and Uriel Rappaport; Jerusalem: Yad Izhak Ben Zvi, 1984), 47-105, esp. 73 [Hebrew]; Reinhartz, “Rabbinic Perceptions,” 187. 33) See Catherine Hezser, The Social Structure of the Rabbinic Movement in Roman Palestine (TSAJ 66; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997), esp. 185-227; Hannah M. Cotton, “The Rabbis and the Documents,” Jews in a Graeco-Roman World (ed. Martin Goodman; Oxford: Clarendon, 1998), 167-80; Schäfer, “Bar Kokhba and the Rabbis,” 21: “It has become increasingly clear in recent research that there was not much of a rabbinic movement in the period under discussion.” 34) See, e.g., P. Mur. 43, a letter from Bar Kokhba to one Yeshua ben Galgula, in which he writes, “Heaven is my witness . . . that I shall put your feet in fetters like I did to Ben Aphlul” (see the edition of Milik in P. Benoit, J. T. Milik, and R. de Vaux, Les Grottes de Murabbaʿât [DJD 2; Oxford: Clarendon, 1961]). See further Schäfer, “Bar Kokhba and the Rabbis,” 8-9.

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‫ שלחו חכמ׳ ואמרו לו עד אימתי‬.‫שם בן כוזבה והיה לו מאתים אלף מטיפי אצבע‬ ‫ אמ׳ להן וכי היאך איפשר לבודפן אמרו לו כל מי‬.‫אתה עושה את יש׳ בעלי מומין‬ ‫שאינו רוכב על סוסו ועוקר ארז מן לבנון לא יהיה נכתב באיסרטיא שלך והיו לו‬ .‫מאתים אלף כך ומאתים אלף כך‬ Ben Kozeba was there [at Bethar], and he had 200,000 [men] with amputated fingers. The sages sent and said to him, “How long will you continue to mutilate Israel?” He said to them, “How else is it possible to test them?” They said to him, “Anyone who cannot uproot a cedar of Lebanon while riding on his horse shall not be enlisted in your army.” So he had 200,000 of the former and 200,000 of the latter.

This story has been taken to reflect rabbinic support for Bar Kokhba, in that not only do the rabbis not condemn the revolt, they even seem to cooperate with it.35 It is worth looking more closely, however, at the function of the rabbis in the story. In fact, what they do is render counsel to Bar Kokhba; more specifically, they correct him. Their rebuke (‫עד אימתי אתה עושה את יש׳ בעלי מומין‬, “How long will you continue to mutilate Israel?”) puts them squarely on the side of ritual purity, over against Bar Kokhba. Even more striking, the story ends with Bar Kokhba’s compliance with the rabbis’ instruction; new army recruits are subjected not to his test but to theirs. The point of the story, if one can be identified, is not that the rabbis endorse the Bar Kokhba movement (they actually do not), but rather that the rabbis are in a position to correct and advise Bar Kokhba, and that he listens to them. The rabbis are the teachers of Bar Kokhba.36 A similar dynamic is evident in one final talmudic passage, the account in the Yerushalmi of the fall of Bethar at the end of the revolt. That account, at y. Taʿan. 4:8/29-32, reads as follows:37 Three and a half years did Hadrian besiege Betar. R. Eleazar of Modiin would sit on sack cloth and ashes and pray every day, saying “Lord of the 35) See Reinhartz, “Rabbinic Perceptions,” 182: “While one must be sceptical about the historicity of the numerical figures and other details of this passage, the support for Bar Kosiba’s cause and leadership evident here likely reflects an attitude prevalent at the time of the revolt.” 36) A point well made by David Goodblatt, “Did the Tannaim Support Bar-Kokhva?” Cathedra 29 (1983): 6-12, here 6 [Hebrew]. 37) For this lengthy passage, I cite the translation of Jacob Neusner, The Talmud of the Land of Israel: Besah and Taanit (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987); cf. the related account at b. Giṭ. 57a-b.

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worlds! Do not sit in judgment today! Do not sit in judgment today!” Hadrian wanted to go to him. A Samaritan said to him, “Do not go to him until I see what he is doing, and so hand over the city to you. He got into the city through a drain pipe. He went and found R. Eleazar of Modiin standing and praying. He pretended to whisper something into his ear. The townspeople saw him do this and brought him to Ben Kozeba. They told him, “We saw this man having dealings with your uncle.” He said to him, “What did you say to him, and what did he say to you?” He said to him, “If I tell you, then the king will kill me, and if I do not tell you, then you will kill me. It is better that the king kill me and not you.” He said to him, “He said to me, ‘I shall hand over my city.’” He went to R. Eleazar of Modiin. He said to him, “What did the Samaritan say to you?” He replied, “Nothing.” He said to him, “What did you say to him?” He said to him, “Nothing.” [Ben Kozeba] gave [Eleazar] one good kick and killed him. Forthwith an echo [‫]בת קול‬ came forth and proclaimed the following verse: “Woe to my worthless shepherd, who deserts the flock! May the sword smite his arm and his right eye! Let his arm be wholly withered, his right eye utterly blinded! [Zech 11:17] You have murdered Eleazar of Modiin, the arm of all Israel and their right eye. Therefore may the right arm of that man withers, may his right eye be utterly blinded!” Forthwith Betar was taken, and Ben Kozeba was killed. They came and brought his head to Hadrian. He said, “Who killed this man?” A Samaritan said, “I killed him.” He said to him, “Show me his corpse.” He showed him his corpse. He found a large snake wrapped around him. He said, “If it were not God who had killed him, who could have killed him?” And concerning him he cited the following verse: [How should one chase a thousand, and two put ten thousand to flight,] unless their Rock had sold them, and the Lord had given them up? [Deut 32:30]

If we ask what the story communicates about the rabbis’ opinion of Bar Kokhba, the answer is uniformly negative.38 Bar Kokhba falls prey to the deceit of the Samaritan, violently slays a pious rabbi, seals the doom of the nation, and dies a cursed death as a consequence. It is equally important to ask, though, what does the story communicate about the rabbis’ perception of themselves? After all, no less prominent in the story than the figure of Bar Kokhba is that of R. Eleazar of Modiin. One must not miss the Yerushalmi’s point that the nation was about to be saved by the earnest prayers of the rabbi, before the deceit of the Samaritan and the insolence of Bar Kokhba intervened. The bath qol praises R. Eleazar as 38)

Pace Reinhartz, “Rabbinic Perceptions,” 185: “Even in this story, some elements of a positive description may be discerned,” citing especially Hadrian’s comment to the effect that only God himself could have killed Bar Kokhba.

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“the arm and right eye of all Israel.” And it is his murder that brings down divinely appointed destruction on the city. The story says about Bar Kokhba that he was no messiah; but it says about the rabbis that they were there, in the person of R. Eleazar of Modiin, at the last stand at Bethar, minutes away from saving Israel by their prayers, and that it was Bar Kokhba’s rejection of them that brought about his ruin. In one important respect, this story is reminiscent of the messianic trial scene of b. Sanh. 93b. Here, as there, the rabbis appear in the story in a position of moral authority and influence the outcome of events. The obvious difference between the stories is that, in the messianic trial, the rabbis kill Bar Kokhba, while at the fall of Bethar, Bar Kokhba kills a rabbi. On the other hand, though, even at Bethar the rabbis may be said to win out, in the sense that R. Eleazar is vindicated by God over against Bar Kokhba. Actually, then, the two stories are not as far apart as they might at first appear. Both tell the same story of the rabbis’ historic importance and divine approval. The presence of Hadrian at the last battle further confirms this reading. As significant as the Second Jewish-Roman War was, for the Romans as well as for the Jews, of course the emperor himself cannot have besieged Bethar for three years.39 But putting Hadrian at Bethar alongside Bar Kokhba and R. Eleazar reinforces the epic proportions of the events in which the rabbis imagine participating. Thus, the fall of Bethar narrative confirms a pattern that has emerged in all the talmudic Bar Kokhba accounts that we have considered, namely that the rabbis appear in the story in a position of moral rectitude or judicial authority or historic importance, or some combination thereof, influencing the ebb and flow of events. This is the common denominator of these otherwise diverse traditions. The accounts are sometimes more, sometimes less historically plausible; sometimes more, sometimes less supportive of the revolt. But they never fail to tell the story of the rabbis’ significance in the events surrounding the Second Jewish-Roman War.

39) On the Roman side of the conflict, see the programmatic statements of Glen W. Bowersock, “A Roman Perspective on the Bar Kokhba War,” in Green, Approaches, 131-41; and Werner Eck, “The Bar Kokhba Revolt: The Roman Point of View,” JRS 89 (1999): 76-89. In particular, Eck’s appeal to the Tel Shalem Arch as evidence of the magnitude of the conflict has generated some controversy; on this debate see further Eck, “Hadrian, the Bar Kokhba Revolt, and the Epigraphic Transmission,” and Bowersock, “The Tel Shalem Arch and P. Naḥal Ḥ ever/Seiyal 8,” both in Schäfer, The Bar Kokhba War Reconsidered, 153-70 and 171-80, respectively.

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The same pattern holds in the account of R. Akiba’s acclamation of Bar Kokhba as messiah. Granted, the other stories present the rabbis as critical, while the acclamation account presents R. Akiba as supportive, but they all present the rabbis, or a representative rabbi, as historically significant in relation to Bar Kokhba. The acclamation account is a different literary means of achieving the same rhetorical end: namely, remembering the rabbinate of the high Amoraic period back into the second century C.E. This is the dominant tendency at work in the acclamation account, a tendency even more powerful than the tendency to protect the reputations of the Yavnean sages. Notwithstanding the meager evidence for a rabbinic movement in the early second century, the rabbis tell the early history of the movement as if it had always been as grand as it was at the time of the telling. They remember aspects of the present into the past. There is, then, a compelling tradition-historical rationale for having R. Akiba acclaim Bar Kokhba as messiah, namely that doing so provides yet another way of giving the rabbis a presence at this crucial point in Jewish history. Once the decision is made to tell this kind of story, then R. Akiba is an obvious choice of representative.40 The critical point is that, from the perspective of the tradition, the blemish to R. Akiba’s reputation (namely, that he is remembered as having endorsed a failed messiah) is worth trading for the overall picture of the early rabbinic movement that results (namely, that the rabbis were present and influential at the time of the Second Revolt). The benefit outweighs the cost; the one traditionhistorical tendency is stronger than the other.

The Meetings-with-Kings Topos in Late Antiquity This explanation of the acclamation account becomes even more compelling when viewed in the context of late antique literary conventions more generally.41 That is to say, not only does y. Taʿan. 4:8/27 fit the talmudic pattern of remembering the Second Revolt as a time of rabbinic influence, it does so in a particular literary way. Just here it is instructive to compare R. Akiba’s meeting with Bar Kokhba to R. Yohanan b. Zakkai’s

40)

So rightly Schäfer, “Bar Kokhba and the Rabbis,” 4. In what follows, I use the word “topos” in the conventional sense made popular in literary criticism by Ernst Robert Curtius, European Literature and the Latin Middle Ages (trans. Willard R. Trask; New York: Harper & Row, 1953; German original 1948). 41)

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meeting with Vespasian near the end of the First Revolt. That meeting is recounted in b. Giṭ. 56a-b:42 ‫כי מטא להתם אמר שלמא עלך מלכא שלמא עלך מלכא א׳׳ל מיחייבת תרי קטלא‬ ‫חדא דלאו מלכא אנא וקא קרית לי מלכא ותו אי מלכא אנא עד האידנא אמאי לא‬ ‫אתית לגבאי א׳׳ל דקאמרת לאו מלכא אנא איברא מלכא את דאי לאו מלכא את‬ ‫ אדהכי אתי פריסתקא עליה מרומי אמר ליה קום‬. . . ‫לא מימסרא ירושלים בידך‬ ‫דמית ליה קיסר ואמרי הנהו חשיבי דרומי לאותיבך ברישא‬ When he [R. Yohanan b. Zakkai] arrived there, he said, “Peace to you, O king. Peace to you, O king.” He [Vespasian] said, “Your life is forfeit on two counts: first because I am not a king and you call me king, and second because if I am a king, why did you not come to me before now?” He said, “As for your saying ‘I am not a king,’ in truth you are a king, since if you were not a king Jerusalem would not be delivered into your hand”. . . . Meanwhile a messenger came to him from Rome saying, “Arise, for Caesar is dead, and the Roman nobility have decided to make you leader.”

This passage is of course well known. R. Yohanan b. Zakkai, by thus accurately prophesying Vespasian’s accession to the principate, secures the right to found the academy at Yavneh and thereby establishes the enduring authority of the rabbinate for centuries to come. Historians have rightly pointed to the striking parallel with the account in Josephus’s War wherein Josephus himself, not R. Yohanan b. Zakkai, makes this prophecy to Vespasian.43 The Josephus parallel further emphasizes the point: I follow the Hebrew text of the Soncino edition (Giṭtị n [ed. Isidore Epstein; London: Soncino, 1977]); cf. also the related accounts at ʾAbot R. Nat. A, ch. 4; ʾAbot R. Nat. B, ch. 6; Lam. Rab. 1:5 §31; and the secondary treatment of Anthony J. Saldarini, “Johanan Ben Zakkai’s Escape From Jerusalem,” JSJ 6 (1975): 189-204, here 204: “We do not know what happened between Johanan and Vespasian, nor whether they actually met face to face . . . The story of the meeting with Vespasian explains that gradual development [of the school at Yavneh] by one, crucial meeting.” 43) Josephus, War 3.400-401 (Greek text ed. Benedictus Niese, Flavii Josephi opera [7 vols.; Berlin: Weidmann, 1885-1895]): “[Josephus] said, ‘You, Vespasian, think that you have simply taken Josephus captive, but I come to you as a messenger of greater things [ἐγὼ δὲ ἄγγελος ἥκω σοι μειζόνων]. For if it were not the case that I have been sent you by God, I know the law of the Jews and how it is fitting for soldiers to die. Are you going to send me to Nero? Why? Nero’s successors up to you still live. You, Vespasian, are Caesar and imperator, you and this your son [σὺ Καῖσαρ, Οὐεσπασιανέ, καὶ αὐτοκράτωρ, σὺ καὶ παῖς ὁ σὸς οὗτος].’” See further Horst R. Moehring, “Joseph ben Matthia and Flavius Josephus: The Jewish Prophet and Roman Historian,” ANRW 2.21.2:864-944, esp. 941-43, who grants the plausibility of the Josephus story but not of the R. Yohanan story. 42)

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There is a certain “coronation scene” motif wherein a Jewish sage is portrayed as announcing the accession of a new ruler to the throne. Both Josephus and R. Yohanan b. Zakkai are cast in such scenes opposite Vespasian, while R. Akiba is cast in the same sort of scene opposite Bar Kokhba. The ethnicity of the ruler is different, but the literary type is the same. This type of the coronation scene is just one form of a broader topos in which a minority hero is remembered as having rubbed shoulders with royalty. Other examples from the rabbinic corpus include the famous meetings between R. Akiba and Tinneius Rufus (b. B. Bat. 10a; b. Sanh. 65b; Gen. Rab. 11:5), Joshua b. Hananiah and Hadrian (b. Ḥ ul. 59b-60a; b. Šabb. 119a; b. Ber. 56a), and Rabbi and Antoninus (b. Sanh. 91a-b; b. ʿAbod. Zar. 10a-b; Gen. Rab. 34:10; 67:5). Louis Ginzberg commented on the genre of these stories: The traditional religious discussions between Hadrian and Joshua ben Hananiah, between Akiba and Tinnius Rufus, between Shabur I and Samuel Yarhinai, as well as the legendary interviews between Alexander the Great and the high priest Simon, or between Ptolemy and the priest Eleazar, may serve as parallels to the various Antonine legends. Jewish folk-lore loved to personify the relations of Judaism with heathendom in the guise of conversations between Jewish sages and heathen potentates.44

Ginzberg identifies meetings between Jewish sages and heathen potentates. I suggest that the R. Akiba-Bar Kokhba tradition is an instance of the same topos, only between a Jewish sage and a Jewish potentate. This 44)

Louis Ginzberg, “Antoninus in the Talmud,” JE 1:656-57, here 656. See also more recently Shaye J. D. Cohen, “The Conversion of Antoninus,” in The Talmud Yerushalmi and Graeco-Roman Culture, vol. 1 (ed. Peter Schäfer; TSAJ 71; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1998), 141-71, here 141: “Although these [nineteenth and early twentieth] century scholars recognized that some of the rabbinic traditions about Antoninus were fanciful and devoid of historical value, they assumed—indeed, insisted—that most of the traditions were truthful and reliable historical accounts of the relationship of the leader of the rabbinic movement with the leader of the Roman empire. If only the rabbinic texts would have made absolutely clear whether Antoninus was Antoninus Pius, Marcus Aurelius, Lucius Verus, Commodus, Septimius Severus, Caracalla, or Alexander Severus! In retrospect, of course, the naivete of these scholars, for all their erudition, industry, and ingenuity, seems almost humorous. In contrast, contemporary scholars, especially in the USA and Europe, are interested more in the literary shape, function, setting, message, and intent of rabbinic traditions, than in their historicity or ‘facticity.’ ”

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literary parallel has perhaps not been obvious because the Vespasian and Antoninus stories concern gentile rulers, while the Akiba-Bar Kokhba connection is an inner-Jewish one. One must not miss the point, though, that for those few years in the mid-130s C.E. Bar Kokhba was the despot of record in the Jewish homeland.45 That is, he occupies in that period the same role that Vespasian before him and Antoninus after him occupy in their respective periods.46 From the perspective of rabbinic tradition, then, the parallel is apt. The lifetimes of the respective sages vary (R. Yohanan in the 70s, R. Akiba in the 130s, Rabbi perhaps in the 200s), but the motif is essentially the same: A rabbi appears alongside a world leader in a position of relative influence.47 This topos is attested not only in Jewish literature but more widely in late antiquity, as well. The fourth-century Latin Correspondence of Paul and Seneca is an important Christian example.48 The apostle to the Gentiles and the Roman philosopher and tragedian had in fact been contem45)

On Bar Kokhba’s status as a world leader, see further the comments of Cassius Dio (69.13-14) on the importance of the war from the Roman perspective: “The whole world, so to speak, was stirred up by these events, so that Hadrian sent the very best of his generals against them.” So great was the toll on Roman lives that, according to Dio, Hadrian declined to write to the Senate with the customary imperial greeting, “If you and your children are in good health, it is well; I and the legions are in good health” (Greek text ed. U. P. Boissevain, Cassii Dionis Cocceiani historiarum Romanarum quae supersunt [3 vols.; Berlin: Weidmann, 1895-1901; repr. 1955]). 46) So rightly Schäfer, “Bar Kokhba and the Rabbis,” 22: “[The Bar Kokhba documents] allow us a glimpse of a Jewish society that is still much closer to the Maccabees, the Qumran community, and the Zealots than to the Rabbis. If Bar Kokhba had not failed, he might have found his place in history as the founder of another ‘Maccabean’ dynasty— and he certainly would have stopped the triumph of the rabbis.” 47) Only slightly further afield, a non-rabbinic Jewish parallel is provided by the curious Epistle of Mordechai to Alexander the Great, which is extant in a single medieval MS of the Alexander Romance. On the problems surrounding the letter, see A. C. Dionisotti, “The Letter of Mardochaeus the Jew to Alexander the Great: A Lecture in Memory of Arnaldo Momigliano,” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 51 (1988): 1-13. 48) This collection of 14 letters (8 from Seneca, 6 from Paul), which circulated under the title Cujus etiam ad Paulum apostolum leguntur epistolae, was apparently known to both Jerome (de Vir. Ill. 12) and Augustine (Epist. 153.14). The standard critical text is that of Claude W. Barlow, Epistolae Senecae ad Paulum et Pauli ad Senecam quae vocantur (Rome: American Academy in Rome, 1938). For English translation see M. R. James, The Apocryphal New Testament (Oxford: Clarendon, 1960), 480-84. Among the secondary literature, see especially Jan Sevenster, Paul and Seneca (Leiden: Brill, 1961), and the older but still valuable comments of J. B. Lightfoot in an appendix to his Saint Paul’s Epistle to the Philippians (London: Macmillan, 1890), 329-33.

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poraries, and there was the slightest literary pretext for imagining them to have met (Acts 18:12-17, where Seneca’s brother Gallio is proconsul of Achaia). More than two centuries later, though, when the apostle’s historic influence had come to rival that of Seneca, the idea of such a correspondence became plausible, never mind the fact that in their own lifetimes Paul was virtually unknown on the world stage, while Seneca was tutor to the emperor. This meetings-with-kings topos is especially well documented in the literature of “eastern” minority movements, most of all Judaism and Christianity, which were concerned to validate themselves in relation to the Hellenistic and Roman empires; but the motif is attested among the Greek and Roman popular philosophers, too. Perhaps the best examples are the famous stories about the Cynic Diogenes of Sinope and Alexander the Great, where in a variety of ways Diogenes shows himself to be Alexander’s equal or better. Diogenes Laertius relates several such stories in book 6 of the Lives:49 While he [Diogenes] was sunning himself in the Craneion, Alexander stood by and said, “Ask of me whatever you want.” And he said, “Move your shadow off of me.” (Diog. Laert. 6.38) When Alexander stood by him and said, “I am Alexander the great king,” he said, “And I am Diogenes the dog.” (Diog. Laert. 6.60) They also report that Alexander said that if he had not been Alexander, he would have wanted to be Diogenes. (Diog. Laert. 6.32) Demetrius, in his treatise on people of the same name, says that on the same day that Alexander died in Babylon, Diogenes died in Corinth. (Diog. Laert. 6.79)

In the Diogenes and Alexander stories, as in the Jewish and Christian examples cited above, the minority hero appears alongside the king in a position of relative influence or importance: so Diogenes orders Alexander to stand out of the sunlight, or the two men are said to have died on the same day. Critical, too, is the fact that Diogenes’s heroic significance 49) I follow the Greek text of H. S. Long, Diogenis Laertii vitae philosophorum (2 vols.; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1964). This cycle of stories is also preserved in Plutarch, Alex. 14; idem, Exil. 15; Cicero, Tusc. 5.32; and Dio Chrysostom, 4 Regn., who develops the characters of Diogenes and Alexander to didactic ends.

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in his own tradition is comparable to that of R. Yohanan b. Zakkai, R. Akiba, and the apostle Paul in theirs. Kurt von Fritz comments, “The tradition about his life is obscured by the fact that soon after his death he became a legendary figure and the hero of the pedagogic novels (Eubulus, Cleomenes) and satirical dialogues (Menippus, Bion).”50 Negatively, this means that one can no more easily write a life of Diogenes than one can a life of Jesus, or of Paul, or of R. Yohanan b. Zakkai. Positively, it means that Diogenes comes to occupy roles in the literature of the Cynic movement that founders of other movements occupy in the literature of their traditions. The formal similarities between the literature of the rabbis and the literature of the philosophers in late antiquity have been increasingly recognized by historians.51 But this particular topos, the meeting of minds between a founder of a minority movement and a contemporary king or emperor, has received relatively little attention.52 Even where it has received attention, the meeting between R. Akiba and Bar Kokhba has 50)

Kurt von Fritz, “Diogenes,” in OCD (2d ed.; ed. N. G. L. Hammond and H. H. Scullard; Oxford: Clarendon, 1970), 348. Still valuable are the older studies of Donald Reynolds Dudley, A History of Cynicism from Diogenes to the 6th Century (London: Methuen, 1937); and Farrand Sayre, Diogenes of Sinope: A Study of Greek Cynicism (Baltimore: Furst, 1938). On Diogenes’s subsequent influence, see the recent collection of essays The Cynics: The Cynic Movement in Antiquity and Its Legacy (ed. R. Bracht Branham, Marie-Odile Goulet-Cazé; Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000). The Diogenes-Alexander cycle in particular may even have influenced Shakespeare (so Steven Doloff, “‘Let Me Talk with This Philosopher’: The Alexander/Diogenes Paradigm in King Lear,” The Huntington Library Quarterly 54 [1991]: 253-5). 51) See the programmatic statement of Shaye J. D. Cohen, “Patriarchs and Scholarchs,” PAAJR 48 (1981): 57-85, here 85: “Perhaps the parallels between patriarchs and scholarchs tell us more about the Hellenization of Babylonian Jewry in the fourth and fifth centuries than about the Hellenization of Palestinian Jewry in the second. I see no way to answer this question. Was the patriarch a scholarch and the rabbinic school a philosophical school? Ancient Jews describe them as such and that fact alone is additional testimony to the impact of Hellenistic models upon rabbinic Judaism.” 52) Cf. the testament form, which has been well treated as a test case, on which see Catherine Hezser, “Interfaces between Rabbinic Literature and Graeco-Roman Philosophy,” in The Talmud Yerushalmi and Graeco-Roman Culture, vol. 2 (ed. Peter Schäfer and Catherine Hezser; TSAJ 79; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000), 161-87, here 165: “In late antiquity the literary topos . . . of the testament of a founder sage was used by both philosophers and rabbis in different cultural contexts, probably to legitimize later ‘school’ traditions. The analogous use of this topos may have been due to a shared sage consciousness than to actual historical influence of Hellenistic philosophical schools on the forming of the patriarchal academy in Palestine or the Babylonian exilarchate.”

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not been adduced as an example. But in light of Schäfer’s analysis of the acclamation account, and the insistence by Heinemann and others that there must be a plausible tradition-historical rationale for that account, it is now clear that the R. Akiba-Bar Kokhba tradition is best understood in this context. Bar Kokhba is not a Hellenistic king or a Roman emperor, but in the unique political history of that period, he occupies, for the tradition, the place of an Alexander or a Vespasian.

Conclusions There are methodological limits to approaches that assess the rabbinic statements about Bar Kokhba with a view to their relative positivity or negativity, as when Goodblatt asks, “Did the tannaim support Bar Kokhba?”53 or Reinhartz asks, “Was he considered to be a messianic leader?”54 Such questions are of real but limited heuristic value; they tend to generate conclusions that are sound but trivial.55 There is more to be learned by asking open-ended questions (“What are the rabbis doing in telling these Bar Kokhba stories?”) than yes-or-no ones (“Did the rabbis endorse the Second Revolt?”). Not that the latter are wrong; but they are only the beginning, not the end, of inquiry into the sources. We have seen that there are a variety of tendencies at work in the tradition, some of which are more discernible, others less so, in any given passage. In the account of R. Akiba’s acclamation of Bar Kokhba, the tendency to remember the rabbis into high points of Jewish political history is especially strong, even trumping the tendency to protect their reputations. Consequently, Schäfer’s literary-critical decision “to throw Akiba out of the text” of y. Taʿan. 4:8/27 is borne out. The argument for historical authenticity on the grounds that the tradition would not willfully damage R. Akiba’s reputation is neither convincing nor indeed necessary, since the dynamic of identity-forming memory is more than adequate to explain the acclamation tradition. In the account of R. Akiba’s acclamation of Bar Kokhba, we have a story of two contemporaries for whom there is otherwise no evidence of their having met, but whom a later religious tradition has reason to think 53)

Goodblatt, “Did the Tannaim Support Bar-Kokhba?” Reinhartz, “Rabbinic Perceptions,” 171. 55) As when Reinhartz concludes, “There was no single view or perception of Bar Kosiba among the rabbis” (ibid., 194). 54)

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of together. In this case, as in the cases of R. Yohanan b. Zakkai and Vespasian, Rabbi and Antoninus, Paul and Seneca, and Diogenes and Alexander, the tradition imagines an ancestor at a critical moment in world history in such a way as to stake a claim to historic significance for the movement. Why does R. Akiba acclaim Bar Kokhba as messiah? Whether or not he ever did so in fact, he does so in the tradition because the authors of the Yerushalmi want to make the point that the great sages of the Yavnean period were not only righteous but also important.

Journal for the Study of Judaism 40 (2009) 573-595

brill.nl/jsj

Review of Articles AJS Review 33/1 (2009), 101-133 Alyssa M. Gray, The Formerly Wealthy Poor: From Empathy to Ambivalence in Rabbinic Literature of Late Antiquity (Contrary to developments in the later Roman Empire, including its Christian leaders, and in early Islam, empathy for wellborn poor in rabbinic sources diminishes over time and gives place to a growing ambivalence in the fourth through seventh centuries. Tannaitic sources are the most generous and least ambivalent toward formerly wealthy poor; they are to be cared for according to their former status. These traditions seem to remind Jews of the lost glory of a bygone plebs Judaea. The Yerushalmi moves from a posture of extreme generosity toward the formerly wealthy poor to one of halakic regulation and to a concern about the possibility of frauds. This shift might have been caused by the declining economic situation since the third century whereas the persistence of some empathy for the formerly wealthy poor might be explained by the notion that poverty could strike anyone. The evidence for Palestinian Amoraim being engaged in organized charitable activity also points to a deteriorating economic situation and to a growing amoraic concern with their own support. The Bavli shares the Yerushalmi’s ambivalence about the formerly wealthy poor and makes clear that those who claim to be maintained according to their former status, put pressure on the community. The ʿani ben tovim is no longer unproblematic; he may be indistinguishable from a fraud. The Bavli no longer distinguishes him from the other poor and rather defines what all poor are no longer permitted to retain of their own possessions as soon as they need charitable assistance. Babylonian rabbis emphasize the rise of at least some among them from poverty to wealth; poverty was not high on the Babylonian scale of values. The extreme caste stratification of Sasanian society might also explain why a descent from wealth to poverty would not likely result in much empathy from the wealthy with the hapless formerly wealthy). Günter Stemberger Annali di storia dell’esegesi 25/1 (2008). This number is dedicated to the “Letters on Monotheism.” The JSJ reader may find of interest the following article: 105-158 Mauro Pesce, I monoteismi e quello che le donne e gli uomini decidono di farne (Studies several historical stages of religious tolerance inside Judaism and Christianity. Two main discussed themes can be highlighted: The first regards the plurality of religions in Flavius Josephus. Among the texts discussed on © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2009

DOI: 10.1163/004722109X12492787778841

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pp. 108-21 are Ant. 16.31-57, 160-178; 19.278-291; 20.13; Life 113. The second theme [pp. 122-46] regards the Jews in the two works of Cassiodorus, where attention is given also to the political decisions concerning the Jews at the beginning of the 6th c. C.E. The texts studied include Variae 2.27, 3.45, 4.3, 5.37, as well as several passages from the Expositio Psalmorum). Vasile Babota Archiv für Religionsgeschichte 10 (2008) [Thematic Issue on Religion and Space, and on Ritual in Domestic and Civic Spheres], 239-258 Charlotte E. Fonrobert, Neighborhood as Ritual Space: The Case of the Rabbbinic Eruv (Departing from J. Z. Smith’s heuristic model of the juxtaposition of domestic and civic religion, and his suggestion of a third category of the religion of “anywhere,” F. argues that “the ritual script of the eruv establishes a system of signs that are about place-making, about ritualizing the neighborhood, about making the neighborhood matter to religious life [the life of Torah], but establishing a communal intent . . . The rabbinic sages thought up a ritual system that provided a rabbinic signature to Jewish neighborhood, that turne neighborhood into . . . a Sabbath territory. As such, neighborhood is turned into an essential communal buffer-zone between exposure to the public world of the non-Jewish world which is the space of other[s], and the Jewish household which tugs Jewish practice safely between its four walls”). Eibert Tigchelaar The Canadian Society of Biblical Studies Bulletin 67 (2007-08), 1-21 [= http://www.ccsr.ca/csbs/2007_Presidential.pdf ] Mary R. D’Angelo, Imperial Interests, Biblical Interpretation and Canadian Content (For both 4 Maccabees and the Pastorals, resistance to the empire’s totalizing claims requires the faithful to vie with and excel the moral claims of the imperial order, and at least in part, upon the empire’s terms). Jean Duhaime Catholic Biblical Quarterly 71 (2009), 42-63 Richard J. Bautch, An Appraisal of Abraham’s Role in Postexilic Covenants (How was the figure of Abraham used after the exile? Many scholars find a promotion of YHWH’s unconditional covenant with Abraham over the conditional Mosaic one as the basis for Judean hope. Three passages, Isa 63:7-64:11, Neh 9:6-37, and Lev 26:1-46, evidence other tendencies: most prominently, bypassing Abraham in favor of permanent divine immanence through creation-language; and an emphasis on Abraham’s active role in covenant-making as the legitimation for efficacious con-

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fession of sin); 330-348 Alan Lenzi, Secrecy, Textual Legitimation, and Intercultural Polemics in the Book of Daniel (How does secrecy function in the book of Daniel? Daniel’s raz is defined as “secret, exclusive divine knowledge that only the deity can reveal,” and may be correlated with Mesopotamian scholarly and mantic knowledge which was characterized as “the secret of the gods.” It functions in Dan 2 to mark YHWH as being foremost a revealer of, and Daniel a receiver of, divine secrets, in polemical contrast to Mesopotamian deities and scholars). Stewart Moore Dead Sea Discoveries 16 (2009), 1-21 Joan E. Taylor, On Pliny, the Essene Location, and Kh. Qumran (Presents a survey of scholarship produced prior to the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls, which shows “that Pliny’s reference was usually believed to indicate a wide region of the Judaean wilderness, understood to stretch from En Gedi northwards and/or inland. When En Gedi was identified in the mid-19th century, the suggestion that Essenes occupied caves just north of and above the ancient settlement was made, but this was not seen as exclusive. If we again read Pliny appropriately, as referring to a region which the gens of the Essenes held, we can move away from either-or dichotomies of possible Essene sites”); 22-54 Gudrun Holtz, Inclusivism at Qumran (Discusses clearly inclusivist texts from Qumran: “a pan-Israelite, e.g. inclusivist, perspective can be seen in 4QpNah, 4QFlor, 4QSM and especially in 4QMMT, 1QSa, and CD/4QD whereas in 1QS exclusivist tendencies predominate”); 55-96 Vered Noam and Elisha Qimron, A Qumran Composition of Sabbath Laws and Its Contribution to the Study of Early Halakah (From the abstract: This article presents a composite edition, with new reconstructions, notes, and translation, of a composition we title “Sabbath Laws” [4Q264a and 4Q421]. Three of these Sabbath laws are treated at length in comparison to rabbinic halakah: carrying and playing musical instruments, reading a scroll, and leaving coals burning); 97-106 Ira Rabin, Oliver Hahn, Timo Wolff, Admir Masic, and Gisela Weinberg, On the Origin of the Ink of the Thanksgiving Scroll (1QHodayota) (Conclusion: “Using the fingerprint composition of the water from the Dead Sea region we could directly link the [ink of the] fragment, and consequently, the production of 1QHa to the Qumran area. Furthermore, our study of the organic components present in the carbon ink of this scroll indicates that gall nuts extracts were used in the ink preparation as early as the 1st c.C.E.”); 107-116 Gary A. Rendsburg, Linguistic and Stylistic Notes to the Hazon Gabriel Inscription (Discusses the word qyṭwṭ in line 24, the phrase my ʾnky in line 77, the presence of alliteration in the text, and the use of variation in the assorted “thus says YHWH” phrases throughout the composition); 190-220 Shani Tzoref, Qumran Pesharim and the Pentateuch: Explicit Citation, Overt Typologies, and Implicit Interpretive Traditions (Surveys the use of the Pentateuch in Qumran pesharim, and notes the prominence of

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Deuteronomy, and the reliance upon pre-existing exegetical traditions); 221-253 Matthew Goff, Gilgamesh the Giant: The Qumran Book of Giants’ Appropriation of Gilgamesh Motifs (Against earlier opinions, G. argues that 4Q530 2 ii and 4Q531 22 indicate that key aspects of the portrayal of Gilgamesh cannot be explained as polemic against Mesopotamian literary traditions, but that the Book of Giants makes Gilgamesh a character in his own right in ways that have little to do with the original Gilgamesh); 254-273 Hannan Birenboim, Tevul Yom and the Red Heifer: Pharisaic and Sadducean Halakah (The controversy about the tevul yom’s dealing with the red heifer “derived from the Pharisees’ desire to enable the common people to participate as much as possible in divine worship: by not considering the red heifer as a sacrifice, they made it possible for the masses to participate in the preparation of the ashes and even to sprinkle it upon the impure; this was opposed by the Sadducees and the Qumran sectarians”). Eibert Tigchelaar Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses 84/4 (2008), 499-518 Christopher T. Begg, Jacob’s Descent into Egypt (Gen 45,25-46,7) according to Josephus, Philo and Jubilees (B. considers the three relectures of the biblical episode, namely Josephus, Ant. 2.168-178a, Philo, Jos. 252-255, and Jub. 43:24-44:8, individually and in comparison). Eibert Tigchelaar Hebrew Studies 45 (2004), 121-162 David Katzin, “The Time of Testing”: The Use of Hebrew Scriptures in 4Q171’s Pesher of Psalm 37 (Demonstrates how the content and structure of the interpretive sections of 4Q171 that are derived from Psalm 37 rely, to a large degree, on allusions to various biblical texts. Not only do the verses alluded to shed light on the connotations and interpretations of particular words in the interpretive sections of the Pesher, but they also allow for an understanding of how the author developed the flow of words and motifs that appear in the Pesher. The text of each section, as constructed by the surrounding vacats, is unified either by its biblical allusions which display a consistency of theme or by dependence on a block of biblical verses that relate to one or more of the themes found in the Pesher. The sections of the Pesher themselves display a consistency which points to an overarching theme that underlies the pesherist’s interpretation of the Psalm in its entirety, namely that of “testing,” based on biblical Exodus/ Wilderness typology); 47 (2006), 211-225 Kenneth L. Hanson, The Law of Reproof: a Qumranic Exemplar of Pre-Rabbinic Halakah (Discussion of the “law of reproof ” in CD 9, Matt 18:15-17, and Rabbinic literature. Argues that the Damascus Document bears witness to an early layer of preRabbinic halakah, which was—in this case—more stringent than in later

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Tannaitic and Amoraic periods); 49 (2008), 87-98 Daryl F. Jefferies, Scripture, Wisdom, and Authority in 4QInstruction: Understanding the Use of Numbers 30:8-9 in 4Q416 (The use of Num 30:8-9, on a husband annulling his wife’s vow, in 4Q416 2 iv follows the tendencies of “rewritten Bible”). Eibert Tigchelaar Henoch 31/1 (2009), 10-17 Siam Bhayro, The Use of Jubilees in Medieval Chronicles to Supplement Enoch: The Case for the “Shorter” Reading (Urges for a cautious use of the medieval chronicles, especially that of Syncellus, when attempting to reconstruct the original text of 1 Enoch. The longer readings in these chronicles, as is the case with 1 En. 6-36, sometime combine texts taken from Jubilees); 17-23 Christoph Berner, 50 Jubilees and Beyond? Some Observations on the Chronological Structure of the Book of Jubilees (Argues for a redaction of Jubilees by circles gathered around the Teacher of Righteousness after his breaking-up with the Jerusalem temple in 152. Among the texts identified as additions are Jub. 1:5-28; 23:14-31); 23-29 Daniel K. Falk, Dating the Watchers: What’s at Stake? (Studies the different traditions of dating the descent of the Watchers based on Gen 6:1-4 with a focus on 1 Enoch, Jubilees, and the Genesis Apocryphon. An interesting case is presented by Jubilees, which, by way of interpreting the 120 years in Gen 6:3, distances the origin of sin from both creation and the heavenly realm); 29-35 Gianantonio Borgonovo, Jubilees’ Rapprochement Between Henochic and Mosaic Tradition (Claims that on the theological level Jubilees appears to be an attempt to reconcile the two extreme positions represented by Genesis and 1 Enoch. Texts studied: Gen 6:1-4; 1 En. 6-8; Jub. 3, 5; 2 Bar. 48:42; 4 Ezra 7:118); 35-41 Bilhah Nitzan, Moses’ Penitential-Like Prayer in Jubilees 1 and its Relation to the Penitential Tradition of Post-Exilic Judaism (Investigates the dialogue between God and Moses in Jub. 1 in light of the penitential tradition, and the possible implication of this dialogue with respect to the aim of Jubilees. Jubilees 1 re-interpreted the dialogue between Moses and God in Deut 31:25-30 and 30 in an eschatological sense); 42-48 Stéphane F. Saulnier, Jub 49:1-14 and the (Absent) Second Passover: How (and Why) to Do Away with an Unwanted Festival (Suggests that Jub. 49:1-14 is a rewritten version of Num 9:1-4. Its author purposely omitted both the biblical textual basis for the second Passover as well as the legislation related to this institution); 48-54 William Loader, Jubilees and Sexual Transgression: Reflections on Enochic and Mosaic Tradition (Explores what research into sexuality in Jubilees might contribute to discussion of Enochic and Mosaic tradition in Jubilees. Literary connections with biblical and non-biblical traditions dealing with issues pertinent to sexuality are consequently established); 54-59 Samuel Thomas, Enoch, Elijah and the (Eschatological) Torah (Although Elijah is not explicitly mentioned in Jubilees—as is Enoch or Moses for example—nonetheless its author may have

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had him in mind in his eschatological representations. Texts discussed: Gen 5:24; 2 Kgs 2:1-14; Mal 3:22-24; Jub. 23:11, 16, 19, passim); 59-65 Cristiana Tretti, The Treasury of Heavenly Wisdom: Differing Modulations of the Concept from 1 Enoch and Jubilees to Medieval Jewish Mysticism (Surveys various traditions related to the characteristics of the heavenly knowledge. Analyzed texts: Deut 33:2; Song 5:11; Song Rab. 5:11.1; Gen. Rab. 1:1; Sefer ha-Bahir 143); 66-72 Henryk Drawnel, Some Notes on Scribal Craft and the Origins of the Enochic Literature (Concentrates on the scribal character of the priestly studies contained in the Jewish Aramaic literature, and on its influence on the understanding of the origins of the Enochic literature. Among the texts considered by the author are those taken from the Aramaic Levi Document, 1 Enoch, as well as Jub. 4:17; 4Q208; 4Q209); 72-78 Andreas Bedenbender, The Book of Jubilees—an Example of “Rewritten Torah”? (Urges for a reevaluation of the notion “the rewritten Bible,” which the author restricts to texts such as Animal Apocalypse and Apocalypse of Weeks, which offer elaborated versions of the biblical text. In the case of Jubilees, B. proposes to use the label “retold Bible,” which confines to the exegetical clarification of the biblical text); 78-83 Calum Carmichael, Law and Narrative in Jubilees: The Biblical Precedent ( Jubilees “whitewashes” the patriarchs in its retelling of the Genesis narrative: 1. where biblical laws are critical of the patriarchs it removes the focus of the criticism by changing the narrative; 2. Where the focus is not removed, it introduces a law “to mitigate or deflect the criticism” [Jub. 28:6, 7; 33:16]); 84-91 Karoly Daniel Dobos, The Consolation of History: A Reexamination of the Chronology of the Abraham Pericope in the Book of Jubilees (Examines the chronology of the Book of Jubilees in relation to the biblical dates that regard the same biblical figures. In creating “fictitious dates” its author aimed at underlining the theological, apologetic and polemic meaning of the history. Similar phenomena can be found in Sefer ha-Qabbalah by Abraham ibn Daud [ca. 1110-1180]); 91-97 Maxine L. Grossman, Affective Masculinity: The Gender of the Patriarchs in Jubilees (Pays attention to the related construction of masculinity in the text, and to its framing of ideal manhood and its meaning, taking as example the patriarchal figures. The examined texts include Jub. 1:24-25; 27:15-17; 36:4; 46:1); 97-104 Jamal-Dominique Hopkins, The Authoritative Status of Jubilees at Qumran (Analyzes halakic issues in Jubilees in relation to several sectarian Dead Sea scrolls. The ideology of the former influenced much the sectarian movement. Apart from the extant mss. of Jubilees, such influence can be seen in the description of sacrificial worship, priestly functions and calendrical issues. The Jubilees texts mostly discussed are 1:14; 6:13-14; 50:10-11); 104-110 Stephen Pfann, A Reassessment of Qumran’s Calendars (Basing his analysis on the study of the calendars in the Dead Sea Scrolls, P. argues against the opinion that the Qumran caves represent the doctrine and practice of a single group. Although many of the solar calendars share a 364-day year, they differ in significant details such as the schedule and names of the festal celebrations); 111-116 Giovanni

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Ibba, The Evil Spirits in Jubilees and the Spirit of the Bastards in 4Q510 with Some Remarks on Other Qumran Manuscripts (Above all, in Jub. 10 emerges a belief in the existence of a world of evil spirits born of the union between the Watchers and women that can corrupt people. A similar tradition is reflected also in 1 En. 10:9, 15:4-12, 4Q184 and 4Q510); 116-122 Dorothy M. Peters, Noah Traditions in Jubilees: Evidence for the Struggle between Enochic and Mosaic Authority (Noah appears as an archetypical priestly figure who receives revelation and transmits it both orally and in writing. Enochic and Mosaic revelation, received and transmitted, was not simply melted and merged in Jubilees but rather placed into a definitive relationship); 123-164 Isaac W. Oliver and Veronika Bachmann, The Book of Jubilees: An Annotated Bibliography From the First German Translation of 1850 to the Enoch Seminar of 2007 (Provides summaries of the most influential scholarly works dedicated to Jubilees between 1850 and 2006). Vasile Babota Ilu, Revista de Cienzas de las Religiones 7 (2002), 175-183 Pablo A. Torijano, Un lunario Judeo-Griego: El Selenodromio de David y Salomón (A translation, preceded by introductory discussions of date, origin, language, and structure). Eibert Tigchelaar Jewish Quarterly Review 99 (2009), Special Issue: Name Calling: Thinking about (the Study of ) Judaism in Late Antiquity; 7-36 D. Boyarin, Rethinking Jewish Christianity: An Argument for Dismantling a Dubious Category (to which is Appended a Correction of my Border Lines) (Review essay on O. Skarsaune and R. Hvalvik, eds., Jewish Believers in Jesus: The Early Centuries, and M. JacksonMcCabe, Jewish Christianity Reconsidered; the label “Jewish Christianity” assumes a Judaism/Christianity binary and rests on the polemical and anachronistic notion that “Judaism” is a “religion” in antiquity); 37-55 M. H. Williams, No More Clever Titles: Observations on Some Recent Studies of Jewish-Christian Relations in the Roman World (Review essay on A. H. Becker and A. Y. Reed, The Ways That Never Parted; D. Boyarin, Dying for God and Border Lines; and J. M. Lieu, Neither Jew nor Greek; categories of “Judaism” and “Christianity” are problematic for late antiquity, and refer to constructed conceptual systems rather than social and historical realities; Jews and Christians occupied different positions in society and thought in terms of different categories, and must not be assimilated into artificial typologies that present them as analogous); 56-64 W. Schwartz, Sunt Lachrymae Rerum (Review essay on M. Goodman, Rome and Jerusalem: The Clash of Ancient Civilizations; Goodman’s comparison of Jewish and Roman cultures is magisterial, but differences of scale make it problematic to analyze Jerusalem and

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Rome as analogous “civilizations”); 65-73 M. Himmelfarb, Judaism in Antiquity: Ethno-Religion or National Identity (Review essay on S. J. D. Cohen, From the Maccabees to the Mishnah, and D. Goodblatt, Elements of Ancient Jewish Nationalism; scholarly emphasis on diversity within ancient Judaism raises questions for both authors about what did constitute Jewish identity; Cohen acknowledges the impossibility of divorcing contemporary concerns from the study of antiquity); 74-87 R. W. Boustan, Augustine as Revolutionary?: Reflections on Continuity and Rupture in Jewish-Christian Relations in Paula Fredriksen’s Augustine and the Jews (Fredriksen effectively separates the real lives of Jews in the Roman empire from the “rhetorical” or “theological” Jews of inner-Christian discourse; however, Augustinian theology and Jewish social history do intersect in three episodes of violent religious oppression during Augustine’s own time); 88-106 J. L. Rubenstein, The Exegetical Narrative: New Directions (Review essay on J. Levinson, The Twice-Told Tale [Heb.]; Levinson brings both unprecedented theoretical sophistication and wide-ranging contextual analysis to his reading of rabbinic exegetical narratives); 107-119 Review Forum: On Peter Schäfer’s Jesus in the Talmud: 107-112 R. Kalmin, Jesus in Sasanian Babylonia (Schäfer demonstrates that anti-Christian polemic flourishes primarily in the Babylonian, not the Palestinian, Talmud; the Babylonian rabbis, however, may have drawn on an oral source, a Church Father, or even Celsus, rather than directly on the New Testament), and 113-119 G. Hasan-Rokem, Embarrassment and Riches (Schäfer’s work illustrates the cultural productivity of the “twin embarrassment” on the part of both Jews and Christians about Jesus’ Jewish birthright; focus on Roman or Sasanian imperial contexts sometimes obscures the Talmud’s internal exegetical dynamics); 121-157 B. A. Berkowitz, The Limits of “Their Laws”: Ancient Rabbinic Controversies about Jewishness (and Non-Jewishness) (Sifra to Lev 18:3 addresses the proper Jewish relationship to gentile practice, positing popular shared practices as neutral spheres ungoverned by the Torah injunction against following “their laws”—legal significance is restricted to laws passed down through male elites, a pagan process imagined to parallel the transmission of rabbinic orthodoxy; in contrast, an inserted passage from the Ishmael school suggests it may be impossible to neutralize pagan practice, extending the injunction against “their laws” to contemporary social and cultural norms of the Roman world, such as hairstyles and circus attendance). Eva Mroczek Jewish Studies Quarterly 14 (2007), 229-256 Menahem Kister, Tohu wa-Bohu, Primordial Elements and Creatio ex Nihilo (Part I discusses the ancient interpretations of the Hebrew words tohu wa-bohu from Gen 1:2: e.g., 1 En. 18, 21 via the paytanim [Yose ben Yose and Yanai], up to the later midrashim, see tohu and bohu as places beyond the universe. Part II deals with the emergence of

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the theological notion that the earth was not created out of primordial elements. Thus, both Jub. 1 and Philo, Creation 29, oppose the idea that there are uncreated elements, and for example b. Hag. 12a views the tohu and bohu as created on the first day; part III traces the use of ancient Jewish interpretations of this verse in later Jewish literature and in some contemporary Patristic writers); 319-327 Yehudah Cohn, Rabbenu Tam’s tefillin: an Ancient Tradition or the Product of Medieval Exegesis? (Contrary to many claims, the Judean Desert evidence of the order of passages in tefillin does not pertain to the discussion between Rashi and Rabbenu Tam as to the ordering of parchments). Eibert Tigchelaar Journal of Biblical Literature 127 (2008), 655-669 Jacob Stromberg, The “Root of Jesse” in Isaiah 11:10: Postexilic Judah, or Postexilic Davidic King? (How were Davidic promises reinterpreted after the exile by Isa 11:10? Were they democratized, or did they still refer to a specific king? The former argument depends in part upon a felt difficulty in understanding shōrēsh as referring to a descendant, but this is well within its semantic range. This text may therefore be taken as evidencing continued hopes for the Davidic line into the Second Temple period); 697-701 Ralph W. Klein, Were Joshua, Zerubbabel, and Nehemiah Contemporaries? A Response to Diana Edelman’s Proposed Late Date for the Second Temple (When was the second Temple built? Edelman proposed a date early in the reign of Artaxerxes [465-425 B.C.E.], concurrent with the fortification of Jerusalem, dismissing the biblical date of ca. 516 B.C.E. as itself the result of innerbiblical exegesis. Klein argues that her attempts to extend the genealogies of Joshua and Zerubbabel to reach her date are unconvincing); 703-724 Louis Jonker, Who Constitutes Society? Yehud’s Self-understanding in the Late Persian Era as Reflected in the Books of Chronicles (How does literature indicate identity-formation? Jonker focuses on speech in 1 Chr 10-26, in terms of the content of the speech as well as the “constellation” of speakers and audience. Of particular importance is how the line between the northern and southern kingdoms, and the lines between Levites, prophets and judges, are blurred, creating a cultic/religious rather than a political or ethnic identity); 725-735 Byron R. McCane, Simply Irresistible: Augustus, Herod, and the Empire (How Roman was Herod? Comparison of Herodian and Augustan architecture suggest Herod’s enthusiastic prosecution of a project to “socialize” Judea into welcoming “full incorporation” into the Roman empire); 128 (2009), 91-106 Ryan E. Stokes, The Devil Made David Do It . . . Or Did He? The Nature, Identity, and Literary Origins of the Satan in 1 Chronicles 21:1 (Is the śaṭan here “the” Satan, or did that figure develop later? Inner-biblical and extrabiblical parallels best support a common noun referring to a supernatural agent, which the Chronicler has inserted to clarify the means by which YHWH’s mysterious wrath is executed. Most particularly, resonances

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between 1Chr 21:1ff and Num 22:22-35 indicate that the latter text was the exegetical basis of the Chronicler’s revision); 115-134 Jona Schellekens, Accession Days and Holidays: The Origins of the Jewish Festival of Purim (What did Purim originally celebrate: a specifically Jewish event, or a predominantly Gentile one? Comparison of scenes in Esther with other, similar biblical scenes suggest that Mordecai, not Esther, is the center of the book; that his advancement as “the leader of his own people” was contested by Davidide leaders in the Persian empire; and that the festival of Purim originally sought to reinforce his leadership by making a holiday of his accession day). Stewart Moore Journal of Hebrew Scriptures http://www.arts.ualberta.ca/JHS/jhs-article. html 8 (2008), Art. 15 Thomas Römer, Moses outside the Torah and the Construction of a Diaspora Identity (The investigation of six themes shows that Moses became a figure of identification for the different Jewish Diasporas during the Persian Period: 1. The Shared Figure of Moses and the Pentateuch; 2. The death of Moses outside the land; 3. Moses, the magician; 4. Moses, the leprous; 5. Moses and the foreign women; 6. Moses, the warrior); Art. 16 Jonathan Jacobs, Characterizing Esther from the Outset: The Contribution of the Story in Esther 2:1-20 (Approaches the characterization of the heroine in Esth 2:1-20 from her status prior to her meeting with the king, her status after meeting with the king, and from a literary analogy between her and Ahasuerus); Art. 18 Michael Avioz, Saul as a Just Judge in Josephus’ Antiquities of the Jews ( Josephus did not praise Saul for being a just king; his characterization of Saul is consistent with the biblical narratives in 1 Sam 14 and 22, which denounce Saul for being a negative model of the king as supreme judge); Art. 19 Elie Assis, The Temple in the Book of Haggai (Explores the Temple ideology that characterizes the book of Haggai and its innovative features); Art. 23 Andrew E. Steinmann, Letters of Kings about Votive Offerings, The God of Israel and the Aramaic Document in Ezra 4:8-6:18 (Ezra 4:8—6:18 is a single literary creation designed to persuade the reader that the Judeans ought to be allowed to build in Jerusalem); Art. 25 Ian Young, Late Biblical Hebrew And The Qumran Pesher Habakkuk (Argues that Early Biblical Hebrew and Late Biblical Hebrew represent co-existing styles of Hebrew, as demonstrated by the language of the Qumran Pesher-commentary on the biblical book of Habakkuk); 9 (2009), Art. 2 George Athas, In Search of the Seventy ‘Weeks’ of Daniel 9 (The three periods within the seventy “weeks” of Dan 9 are not entirely sequential: the first seven “weeks” overlap with the sixty-two “weeks”; through this technique, the author of Daniel manages to fit a schema of seventy “weeks” [490 years] into an actual period of 441 years). Jean Duhaime

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Journal of Jewish Studies 59 (2008), 183-200 Adiel Schremer, “The Lord Has Forsaken the Land”: Radical Explanations of the Military and Political Defeat of the Jews in Tannaitic Literature (L’explication traditionnelle de la réaction juive à la destruction du Temple suit la ligne des prophètes: c’était à cause de nos fautes, et on n’a pas prêté attention a d’autres explications moins pieuses qui se trouvent dans la littérature rabbinique. “In this paper I wish to explore some of these explanations and point to the existence of a state of mind among Palestinian Jews, in the wake of the destruction of the Temple and failure of the Bar Kokhba revolt, which come to question God’s very existence, of His ability ([or desire] to rule the world”); 201-217 Jodi Magness, The Arch of Titus at Rome and the Fate of the God of Israel (La meilleure interprétation de la signification des représentations dans l’arche de Tite, serait celle donnée par Minutius Felix, selon laquelle les éléments du culte [le chandelier et la table] de Jérusalem que l’on trouve parmi le butin seraient une représentation du Dieu des Juifs, vaincu par Jupiter et mené en captivité dans les rues de Rome); 218-235 Finn Damgaard, Brothers in Arms: Josephus’ Portrait of Moses in the “Jewish Antiquities” in the Light of His Own Self-Portrait in the “Jewish War” and the “Life” (L’étude des ressemblances entre la description de Moïse et la description de ses propres actions fait croire que le parallèle, qui n’est pas explicité par Josèphe, est intentionnel et pouvait être compris par les lecteurs); 236-251 Nikos Kokkinos, The Foundation of Bethsaida-Julias by Philiip the Tetrach (L’affirmation de Josèphe [Ant. 18. 27] sur la dédicace de Bethsaida à Julia, la “fille” d’Auguste, n’est pas contredite par l’évidence numismatique); 252-271 Matthew E. Gordley, Creation Imagery in Qumran Hymns and Prayers (Etude de l’emploi des récits de la création dans des textes liturgiques et non-liturgiques, d’origine sectaire et non-sectaire); 273-291 Tamar Zewi, Nominal Clauses in the Dead Sea Scrolls (Etude des sentences nominales dans 1QpHab, 1QS, 1QM, CD et 11Q19); 292-307 Lea Himmelfarb, The Link Between the Jewish-Christian Polemic and the Masorah Notes in Rashi’s Bible Commentary; 308-316 Daphne Freedman, Pseudepigraphy in the “Zohar”. 60 (2009), 1-4 Daniel R. Schwartz, Joseph M. Baumgarten (1928-2008) (Nécrologie de J. M. Baumgarten, décédé le 04.12.2008); 5-17 Eran Viezel, Haggai, Zechariah and Malachi and their Role in the Composition of Chronicles: The Origin of an Exegetical Tradition (Etude de la tradition médiévale sur la contribution des prophètes à la rédaction du livre des Chroniques); 18-31 Phoebe Makiello, Daniel as Mediator of Divine Knowledge in the Book of Daniel (L’article montre qu’il y a une claire progression dans la présentation de Daniel, tant comme interprète de songes dans les chap. 1-6 que comme visionnaire dans les chap. 7-12); 32-47 Abraham P. Bos, Philo on God as “archê geneseôs” (Contre D. Runia, B. défend que Philo, bien qu’employant une perspective aristotelienne, parle de la création avec la langue de Platon); 48-59 Tziona Grossmark, “A City of God”: In Quest of Talmudic Reality (Sur la légende de la “Jérusalem d’or” que Rabbi Akiva aurait offerte à sa femme); 60-79 Peter W. Flint and Eugene Ulrich, The

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Variant Textual Readings in the Hebrew University Isaiah Scroll (1QIsab) (Présentation de toutes les variantes textuelles de 1Q8); 80-89 Peter W. Flint and Nathaniel N. Dykstra, Newly Identified Fragments of 1QIsab (Edition et commentaire de 12 nouveaux fragments minuscules de 1Q8, récemment identifiés); 90-136 Boaz Zissu and Amir Ganor, Horvat ‘Ethri—A Jewish Village from the Second Temple Period and the Bar Kokhba Revolt in the Judean Foothills (Rapport préliminaire des fouilles menées entre 1999 et 2001 par la IAA). Florentino García Martínez Judaica 65/1 (2009), 31-42 Hans-Georg von Mutius, Juden und Nichtjuden in der Tierschadenshaftung des rabbinischen Rechts (Exod 21:35-36 regelt den Schadenersatz im Fall eines stößigen Rinds offenbar nur unter Juden. m. B. Qam. 4 geht auf den Fall ein, dass einer der beiden Betroffenen nicht Jude ist: Er ist ersatzpflichtig, erhält aber selbst vom jüdischen Besitzer keinen Ersatz, was laut b. B. Qam. 38a die römischen Behörden auf den Plan ruft, auch wenn die Anwendung voraussetzt, dass der Nichtjude jüdisches Recht akzeptiert. In der Fortsetzung zeichnet M. die mittelalterliche Weiterentwicklung bis zum Schulchan Arukh nach). Günter Stemberger Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha 18 (2009), 163-179 William ‘Chip’ Gruen, III, Seeking a Context for the Testament of Job (G. places the Testament of Job within Roman Egypt in the early to mid-second century C.E. Specifically, it contextualizes the episode of temple destruction within the broader phenomenon of religious violence of the southeast Mediterranean. The Jewish Diaspora Revolt during the reign of Trajan may have inspired the composition of its first twenty-seven chapters); 181-205 David C. Mitchell, A Dying and Rising Josephite Messiah in 4Q372 (M. suggests that the Joseph figure of 4Q372 is a righteous king or “eschatological patriarch” who quotes in his death-throes Pss 89 and 22, like the suffering Ephraim Messiah of Pesiq. Rab. 36-37. The genre of 4Q372 is therefore not history but prophecy, a view supported by its verbal forms. This interpretation has implications for the dating of the Josephite Messiah); 207-232 Helen R. Jacobus, The Curse of Cainan ( Jub. 8:1-5): Genealogies in Gen 5 and Gen 11 and a Mathematical Pattern ( J. suggests that Cainan, the missing 13th patriarch from Adam in the genealogical table in MT and SP, was known to the authors of the proto-MT, and the proto-SP. Using textual and chrono-genealogical analysis, J. proposes that the 13th generation from the 13th generation from Adam had to contend with a curse. An arithmetical test on the variant chrono-genealogical data in Gen 5 and 11 in MT, SP, LXX A,B and Peshitta show that the ages and “begetting” ages of the ancestors across the recen-

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sions create an integrated mathematical model. The arithmetical paradigm takes into account Cainan’s presence in LXX B and A and his absence in the proto-MT, proto-SP and Peshitta. These chrono-genealogies can be dated to between the compilation of LXX Genesis [3d c. B.C.E.] and the schism between Samaritans and Jews [2d c. B.C.E.]; 233-240 Daniel C. Olson, ‘Enoch and the Son of Man’ Revisited: Further Reflections on the Text and Translation of 1 Enoch 70:1-2 (Modifies, but defends his earlier translation of 1 En. 70:1-2, which had been criticized by other scholars); 243-263 Benedikt Eckhardt, Reclaiming Tradition: The Book of Judith and Hasmonean Politics (From abstract: Judith employs signifiants that have a key role in Hasmonean propaganda [1 Maccabees], but alters their scriptural foundations so as not to inherit the signifiés. Thus, Judith should be seen as an example of literature subverting legitimizing discourses by creating a fictitious space which allows an alternative usage of politically exploited language. This creation of a “counter-discourse” is not to be confused with “counter-propaganda”); 265-283 Ronald Charles, A Postcolonial Reading of Joseph and Aseneth (“This study demonstrates that a postcolonial reading of this ancient tale can shed significant light on the different constructions of Otherness and gender relationships manufactured in the text”); 285-292 Michael Avioz, The Incineration of Saul’s and His Sons’ Corpses According to Josephus (A. argues that Josephus, Ant. 6.375377, omits cremation from his account of 1 Sam 31 in order not to draw similarities between Israelite burial practices and pagan ones); 293-302 Michael E. Stone, Two Unpublished Eschatological Texts (Stone presents in text and translation two medieval Armenian texts relating to the underworld and the Day of Judgment, which illustrate how themes and subjects drawn from Jewish speculation of the Second Temple period influenced medieval literature). Eibert Tigchelaar Liber Annuus 57 (2007), 317-341 Christopher Begg, Samson’s Initial Exploits According to Josephus ( Josephus devotes a total of eighteen extended paragraphs of Ant. 5 to his reproduction of Judg 14-15, which shows his interest in the passage. Begg demonstrates “the manifold pains Josephus has taken in adapting the biblical presentation of Samson’s exploits to his own purposes in writing his history”). Eibert Tigchelaar Materia Giudaica 13/1-2 (2008), 23-34 Francesca Calabi, Filone di Alessandria. Tra pensiero Greco e tradizione ebraica (Looks at Philo as a philosopher and biblical exegete in the context of both late antique Judaism and the Platonic philosophy. Consequently, an attempt is made to trace the influence of Philo on later Judaism. Particular attention is paid to Gen. Rab. I.1; Timaeus 30A, as well

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as to Philo’s texts like Cher. 27-28; Conf. 170-172; Deo 4; Mos. I.75; Mut. 13; Opif. 60, 67, 75; Praem. 40; Somn. I.67, 230, 232); 35-36 Giuseppe Mandalà, Aḥ iṭuv ben Yiṣḥ aq da Palermo, medico, filosofo e traduttore del secolo XIII (Focuses on the character and works of the Jewish medieval philosopher of Sicily. He is especially known for having embraced Avraham Abulafia as prophet and messiah [1280-1292 ca.], and for having translated into Hebrew—among others—the Arabic Treatise on the Art of Logic attributed to Maimonides); 63-70 Mauro Zonta, Traduzioni filosofico-scientifiche ed enciclopedie ebraiche alla corte di Federico II e dei suoi successori (secolo XIII) (In the course of the 13th c. a number of translations and/or paraphrases of Medieval Arabic philosophical and scientific works were made into Hebrew or Latin in the kingdom of Naples, including Sicily. This essay surveys these works and their characteristics, and tries to identity their authors, which included a number of Jewish scholars); 71-79 Elisa Coda, Le fonti filosofiche del trattato sulle Forme degli elementi (Ṣurot ha-Yesodot) di Yiṣḥ aq Abravanel (1437-1508) (Searches on the sources of Abravanel’s first philosophical work, The Forms of the Elements. Proceeds then with the characteristics of these sources, in order to trace the literary elements which influenced the thought of the Jewish philosopher); 81-89 Giuseppe Veltri, La dimensione politico-filosofica dei Caeremonialia Hebraeorum: Baruk Spinoza e Simone Luzzato (Deals with Spinoza’s concept in his Tractatus theologicus-politicus towards the Jewish rites and ceremonies deriving from the temple period. V. claims that the sources for Spinoza’s text were: Luther’s commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Galatians and probably the Discourse of Luzzato); 91-96 Oliver Leaman, Silence and Its Significance in Jewish Thought (Discusses the question of silence with special reference to the works of Hegel and Maimonides); 97-110 Roberto Gatti, Tra Maimonide e Averroè: la posizione di Gersonide all’interno della storia del pensiero ebraico (Looks at the thought of Gersonides as philosopher-scientist within the history of Medieval Jewish philosophy in the 14th c.); 111-120 Irene Kajon, Al di là del teismo e dell’ateismo: gli attributi di azione nella filosofia ebraica (Claims a common line of thought with regard to God’s attributes in Yehudah ha-Lewi’s Kuzari, Maimonides’ Guide of the Perplexed, and Hermann Cohen’s Religion of Reason out of the Sources of Judaism); 131-134 Lucio Troiani, Sulla tradizione del tempio di Leontopoli (Concentrates upon the significance and the role of the temple at Leontopolis in the light of the contradictory accounts preserved by Josephus about the temple’s foundation); 153-156 Evelyn M. Cohen, Illustrating the Bible in Fifteenth-Century Italy: Scenes from a Hebrew Manuscript (Surveys over fifty biblical illustrations which appear in a copy of Abraham ibn Ezra’s commentary on the Pentateuch that was written for Isaac da Pisa in 1432. Among their peculiarities are the representations of God in a human form); 251-278 Lara Guglielmo, Manuscripts, Editions and Translations of the Damascus Document from 1896 to 2007. Towards a (re-)Edition of 4Q266 (Surveys various editions and commentaries of the Damascus Document beginning with the editio princeps of S. Schechter

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in 1910 of the two Cairo Genizah copies [CD A-B], and up to the work of B. Z. Wacholder in 2007. Particular attention is being paid to the history of scholarly discussions concerning the relation of these mss. to those found in the Qumran area, namely 4Q266-273, 5Q12 and 6Q15. This thorough review urges for a re-edition of 4Q266 with a special emphasis on the medieval copies); 311318 M. T. Ortega-Monasterio and F. Javier del Barco del Barco, Hebrew Manuscripts in Spanish Collections: A New Catalogue (Brings together for the first time all the Hebrew mss. held in archives and libraries of Madrid, which include translations of Bibles and medieval commentaries on the biblical texts. On pp. 320-330 the authors offer 22 plates of some of the discussed mss); 349-353 Claudia Sojer, Talmudic Fragments in the Library of the Premonstratensian Convent Wilten at Innsbruck (Analyzes three parchment folia written in Ashkenazic script between the 13th and 14th c., containing the Talmudic passages, b. Ned. 38v40v, 50v-55r). Vasile Babota Numen 56 (2009), 161-184 N. Wyatt, The Concept and Purpose of Hell: Its Nature and Development in West Semitic Thought (A number of ancient West Semitic traditions, including a subterranean dwelling place of the dead, the deification of dead kings, and cosmic rebellion, gradually coalesced into the JudeoChristian conception of hell in the period ca. 200 B.C.E.-200 C.E.; the political and religious strife of the time may have catalyzed a heightened interest in reward and punishment in the hereafter). Eva Mroczek Qadmoniot [Hebrew] 41, No. 136 (2008), 96-107 D. Amit, H. Torgü, P. Gendelman, Ḥ orvat Burnat, a Jewish Village in the Lod Shephelah during the Hellenistic and Roman Periods (In salvage excavations conducted in 2004, remains of a Hellenistic-Roman settlement were discovered. Remains of a building from the Persian period were expanded to a large farm consisting of several buildings and protected by a tower. Most of the buildings were still in use in the following period when the settlement clearly became Jewish after 144 B.C.E., as is attested by several miqvaot; one of them may have been for public use. Hasmonean and Roman coins and six coins from the Jewish Revolt were found. A large building—12.6 m × 8.4 m—was at first regarded as a public building, perhaps even a synagogue; but it may quite as well have been the inner courtyard of a larger family dwelling, including a triclinium for the meetings of the family. There are no signs of destruction in the Bar Kokhba-period, nor are there coins of the 3rd year of the revolt. The village thus seems to have been abandoned before the end of the revolt. Soon afterwards it was resettled by gentiles: the

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miqvaot were closed; a certain amount of animal bones now derive from pigs whereas before about 60 percent of the animal bones came from goats and sheep, the rest from cattle. In the later Byzantine period only part of the village was settled; in the Islamic period it was completely abandoned); 108-112 D. Ussishkin, Excavations at Betar, the Last Stronghold of Bar Kokhba (Betar was explored several times since V. Guérin identified the site in 1863. After the independence of Israel, the site was in the military zone between Israel and Jordan; the expansion of the village after 1967 did much damage to the remains of the fortified village and the Roman castra and circumvallatio. Excavations conducted since 1984 explored the hasty fortification efforts during the revolt. The southern hill was artificially built up to a certain size and fortified. The village may have had 1000 to 2000 inhabitants. Many more must have come in during the revolt, but it was cut off from its water supply by the Romans who occupied the spring and engraved a Latin inscription on a rock beside it. The destruction of the site was complete; it was never settled again); 113-120 Y. Tepper and L. di Segni, Ancient Christian Prayer Hall at Kefar ʿOthnai (Legio) (There have been several excavations in the area of Legio since 1908. In salvage excavations conducted in 2004-2006 on the grounds of the modern prison, a Christian building was discovered within a larger dwelling complex used by members of the Roman legion in the 3rd c. The “cult room,” measuring 10 × 5 m, had no special architectonic features. Around a raised podium in the center there are four mosaic panels, two of them purely geometric, two with Greek inscriptions, one of them accompanied by the depiction of two fishes. One inscription mentions the centurio Gaianos Porphyrios who dedicated the mosaic; there is nothing explicitly Christian in it, but a second inscription names a woman, Akeptous the godfearer, who gave this trapeza to God Jesus in commemoration; a third inscription mentions four women, among them one Chreste; the authors hesitate whether they were martyrs or simply members of the family of the donor. Pottery below and on the mosaic, coins mainly up to the time of Diocletian and the palaeography of the inscriptions date it to the second half of the 3rd c. The mosaic is perfectly preserved whereas the surrounding private rooms are much deteriorated. It seems that the inhabitants covered it up before they left the site, perhaps in the course of the military reforms under Diocletian when many troops were transferred to other places. This seems to explain why the mosaic survived the Diocletian persecution of Christians in the years 303-313); 128-129 R. Reich, Note on Coins of the Great Jewish Revolt Found at Carnuntum in Austria (Four small bronze coins struck in Jerusalem during the Great Revolt and one Judaea Capta coin kept in the museum of Carnuntum and probably found at the site seem to have been brought here by Roman soldiers as a kind of souvenir when they returned from the siege of Jerusalem to their normal garrison. An alternate explanation could be that captive Jews sold into slavery who made it to Carnuntum, brought them here). Günter Stemberger

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Recherches de Science Religieuse 93 (2005), 597-618 Katell Berthelot, Bulletin du judaïsme ancien (I) (I. Histoire du judaïsme A. Histoire du judaïsme à l’époque hellénistique et romaine; B. Le judaïsme hellénistique. A review of 16 books); 94 (2006), 129-160 André Paul Bulletin du judaïsme ancien (II) (Qumran et les manuscrits de la mer Morte. A review of 33 books); 215221 André Paul, Sources, limites et grandeurs de l’«humanisme» du judaïsme ancien (Review article of Katell Berthelot’s two books Philanthrôpia judaica and L’«humanité» de l’autre homme); 95 (2007), 595-615 Katell Berthelot, Bulletin: Judaïsme Ancien (I. Histoire du judaïsme à l’époque hellénistique et romaine; II. Littérature juive en grec. Review of 20 books). Eibert Tigchelaar Religious Studies and Theology 27/2 (2008), 213-230 Andrew B. Perrin, From Qumran to Nazareth: Reflections on Jesus’ Identity as Messiah in Light of PreChristian Messianic Texts among the Dead Sea Scrolls (Rethinks the explicit claims of Jesus’ divine sonship in light of 4Q246 and Jesus’ messianic works in the light of 4Q521). Jean Duhaime Revue de Qumran 23/92 (2008), 459-473 Hans Debel, “The Lord Looks at the Heart” (1Sam 16:7): 11QPsa 151 A-B as a “Variant Literary Edition” of Ps 151 LXX (Trois des additions du Ps 151A par rapport au Ps 151 LXX peuvent être considérées comme un vrai midrash de 1 Sam 16:17, et permettent de considérer les deux versions du Psaume comme des éditions diverses); 475-489 Ian Werret, A Scroll in One Hand and a Mattock in the Other: Latrines, Essenes, and Khirbet Qumran (Une étude détaillée des textes qumrâniens qui traitent des excréments [1QM, 4Q265, 4Q472a et 11Q19] ne permet pas de corroborer les affirmations de Zias dans la RevQ 22 [2006] 631 que l’évidence trouvée “bolsters the Essene hypothesis by corroborating the descriptions of this distinctive toilet regime in both the scrolls and Josephus”); 491-524 Moshe Bar-Asher, On the Language of “The Vision of Gabirel ” (Analyse de l’orthographie, la phonologie et la morphologie de l’inscription sur pierre connue comme “Vision de Gabriel” avec reproduction du texte des éditions de Yardeni-Elitzur et de Knohl); 525-528 Eibert Tigchelaar, A Forgotten Qumran Cave 4 Deuteronomy Fragment (4Q3d = 4QDeutn (Edition d’un fragment de la grotte 4 avec des restes de Deut 24:20-22); 529-531 Hanan Eshel, A Note on 11QPsd Fragment 1 (Le fragment 1 de 11Q8 n’appartient pas à 11QPsd et ne provient pas de la grotte 11, une grotte naturelle et non creusée dans l’argile); 533-542 Daniel Stökl Ben Ezra, Deconstructing the so-called Genesis Apocryphon from Masada (Mas 1m or MasapocrGen) (Les fragments publiés comme Mas 1m proviendraient au moins de deux manuscrits différents); 543-561 Émile Puech, Le Testament de Lévi en araméen. Cambridge a-b

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et f. Corrigenda et addenda (Suite à l’article dans la RevQ 80 [2002] avec des précisions sur l’attribution du passage de Cambridge b à l’incident de Dînah); 563-567 Joe Zias, A Scroll in One Hand and a Mattock in the Other—A Response (Réplique à l’article de Warret). 24/93 (2009) Numéro monographique avec les contributions des membres du comité du Theologisches Wörterbuch zu den Qumrantexten pendant la réunion tenue à Bonn le 3-5 Novembre 2008, 36 Ulrich Dahmen, Introduction (Résumé des communications); 7-18 Devorah Dimant, Sectarian and Non-Sectarian Texts from Qumran: The Pertinence and Usage of a Taxonomy (Description des éléments qui permettent de distinguer les textes sectaires des non-sectaires et application dans trois exemples : ‫ברית האבות‬, ‫אביון‬, et ‫ ;)בליעל‬19-34 Francesco Zanella, “Sectarian” and “NonSectarian” Texts: a Possible Semantic Approach (Propose de résoudre le problème par une approche lexico-semantique et donne comme exemple le lexème ‫;)תרומה‬ 35-48 Armin Lange, Satanic Verses: The Adversary in the Qumran Manuscripts and Elsewhere (Analyse du mot ‫ שטן‬dans les textes de Qumrân et dans le reste de la littérature de l’époque pour prouver que la collection de manuscrits de la Mer Morte ne peut être considérée comme un corpus que dans un contexte régional) 49-59 Eileen Schuller, Women in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Some Observations from a Dictionary (Analyse des mots ‫ אשה‬et ‫ אנתה‬et de leur fréquence dans les manuscrits de Qumrân, ainsi que présentation des problèmes que l’on rencontre pour déceler la présence des femmes dans les mots au masculin); 61-78 Holger Gzella, Dating the Aramaic Texts from Qumran: Possibilities and Limits (Présentation critique des essais faits pour établir la datation de la langue araméenne des diverses compositions, soit sur base historique, de dialectologie, ou de sociolinguistique, ainsi que des problèmes qui rendent ces études d’une utilité limitée); 79-95 George J. Brooke, Pešer and midraš in Qumran Literature: Issues for Lexicography (Illustration des différents aspects que l’on doit prendre en compte pour élaborer une entrée lexicale du dictionnaire [“the role of Semitic philology, the place of context in determining meaning, and the ongoing tension between diachronic and synchronic evidence in the construction of semantic fields”], par l’ étude des termes pesher et midrash); 97-114 Hannah Harrington, What Is the Semantic Field of the Lexemes ‫ טהר‬and ‫ טמא‬in the Dead Sea Scrolls? (Etude de toutes les occurrences [verbes, noms, adjectifs] des deux lexèmes); 115-133 Lawrence H. Schiffman, Halakhic Terminology in the Dead Sea Scrolls (Etude de la terminologie légale [termes générals, de la loi civile, de la loi sur le Sabbath, en relation avec la pureté ou impureté et termes d’importance sectaire], surtout dans le Document de Damas); 135-153 Charlotte Hempel, Do the Scrolls Suggest Rivalry Between the Sons of Aaron and the Sons of Zadok and if so Was It Mutual? (L’étude de toutes les occurrences de l’ expression “fils de Zadok” montre que les textes donnent une importance majeure aux “fils d’Aaron”) 155-163 Torleif Elgvin, From Secular to Religious Language in 4QInstruction (Avec quatre exemples de 4QInstruction [‫ אויל‬et ‫אולת‬, ‫רז‬, ‫ בן בכור‬et ‫ ]עבד משכיל‬T. essaie de mon-

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trer que les mêmes mots peuvent avoir une double signification, séculier et religieuse, dans le même document); 165-172 Heinz-Josef Fabry, The THWQ— Perspectives of the First International Symposium of the Advisory Board 2008 (F. signale quatre lignes de force du symposium : le type des ressources à employer dans l’élaboration des lemmata, les problèmes taxonomiques, les champs sémantiques, et la diachronie des textes et des communautés). Florentino García Martínez Revista Catalana de Teologia 32/2 (2007), 299-317 Christopher Begg, Two Ancient Rewritings of Numbers 11 (Provides a comparative study of two ancient retellings of Num 11, namely Josephus’ Ant. 3.295-299 and Philo’s Spec. 4.126-131. Both authors present a highly abridged rendering of the biblical text. Both of them eliminate the speaking role attributed to God in Num 11:1820.23. Josephus lacks the moralizing and theologizing rendition found in Philo, and highlights the role of Moses. Philo instead focuses on the collective covetness, and makes no mention of the nameless figures who, in Josephus’ rewriting, advocate on behalf of Moses). Vasile Babota Revue biblique 116 (2009), 27-43 K.-P. Adam, 1 Sam 28: A Comment on Saul’s Destiny from a Late Prophetic Point of View (The tradition of Saul’s necromancy inserted into 1 Sam 28 suggests the influence of Greek traditions: it shares formal and substantive features with the nekuia in the Odyssey, book 11, and may also be compared to the invocation of Darius’ spirit in Aeschylus’ Persians); 82-110 É. Nodet, Le baptême des prosélytes, rite d’origine essénienne ( Jewish proselyte baptism is derived from a Second Temple rite associated with the Essenes, termed haverim in the rabbinic sources, who were both esteemed and put at some distance due to their strict exclusivity); 111-136 U. C. von Wahlde, The Pool(s) of Bethesda and the Healing in John 5: A Reappraisal of Research and of the Johannine Text (The historicity of the setting and traditions behind the Johannine account of the healing of the paralytic, which took place at the southern pool/ miqveh at Bethesda, is supported by popular Jewish traditions that associate healing with the turbulence of water, likely caused by water movement between the two pools); 246-261 I. Kalimi, The Story about the Murder of the Prophet Zechariah in the Gospels and Its Relation to Chronicles (The account of Zechariah’s murder in 2 Chr 24:20-22 may reflect a historical event, but may also be built on Lam 2:20 and other biblical texts to fit the Chronicler’s theological goals; the story was influential in later Jewish and Christian writings). Eva Mroczek

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Revue d’Histoire et de Philosophie Religieuses 84 (2004), 129-147 André Caquot, Trois textes religieux de la Grotte 4 (Annotated new translation of three Dead Sea Scrolls texts published in 1982 by Maurice Baillet, namely 4Q501 Lament, 4Q504 Words of the Luminaries, and 4Q510/4Q511 Words of the Sage); 85 (2005), 497-515 Devorah Dimant, L’Apocryphe de Jérémie C de Qoumrân (D. gives a brief introduction to the manuscripts of the Apocryphon of Jeremiah C, an overview of its contents, and an annotated translation of the most important fragments); 88 (2008), 71-76 Laurence Vianès, La Lettre d’Aristée et les origins de la Septante: à propos d’un livre récent (Short review essay of Sylvie Honigman’s The Septuagint and Homeric Scholarship in Alexandrie); 417-450 Jean-Claude Dubs, 4Q321 ou le calendrier bien tempéré (Describes the 4Q321 calendar as a liturgical calendar set within a cosmographic framework); 89 (2009), 29-50 Jean-Claude Dubs, Deux manuscrits calendaires de Qoumrân. Le Calendrier des Signes célestes (4Q319) et le Registre annuel des Temps sacrés (4Q394a) (Description of the system of 4QOtot [4Q319] as depending both on biblical models and on 1 Enoch and Jubilees. In an appendix a brief description of 4Q394a). Eibert Tigchelaar Revue de l’histoire des religions 224 (2007), 253-271 Jean-Michel Roessli, Vies et metamorphoses de la Sibylle: Notes critiques (Review article discussing current views on the Sibyl, focusing on Monique Bouquet and Françoise Morzadec’s La Sibylle. Parole et representation and Jackie Pigeaud’s Les Sibylles). Eibert Tigchelaar Revue des Sciences Religieuses 82 (2008), 147-160 Claude Coulot, L’Instruction sur les deux esprits (1QS III,13—IV, 26), Structure et genèse (Literary analysis of the Qumran Two Spirits Treatise in which C. recognizes a concentric structure). Eibert Tigchelaar Rivista Biblica 56 (2008), 277-298 Maria C. Palmisano, Il background veterotestamentario nella descrizione del sapiente ideale in Sir 39,6-8 (Investigates the biblical background of the description of the ideal sage scribe. Particular connections are established with the figure of Moses in Deut 32 and 34:9); 419-431 Deborah F. Sawyer, Explorations on the Theme of Female Characterization in the Hebrew Bible (Explores the female characters in the biblical narratives, namely: Eve in Gen 1-3, Sarah and Hagar in 16-21:21, Esther and Queen Vashti in the Book of Esther). Vasile Babota

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Science et Esprit 59/2-3 (2007), 143-152 Paul E. Dion, God and the Evil Men Do According to Ben Sira 15:11-18:14 (Ben Sira argues that God is neither responsible for the evil men do, nor indifferent to it, but punishes obdurate sinners, and yet shows mercy to those who repent); 60/3 (2008), 229-257 and 61,1 (2009), 39-50 Jean-Jacques Lavoie, Quelques réflexions sur le pluralisme inter- et intrareligieux à partir des études comparatives du livre de Qohélet (A synthesis of the comparative studies between, on the one hand, the book of Qohelet and the extrabiblical texts, and, on the other hand, the book of Qohelet and the rest of the Bible; the conclusion suggests a reflection about inter- and intrareligious pluralism). Jean Duhaime Scripta Classica Israelica 26 (2007), 87-90 Alla Kushnir-Stein, Josephus’ Description of Paneion (Suggests that the two descriptions of Paneion in Josephus, War 1.405-406 and 3.509-515 once belonged together, with 1.405-406 originating from the beginning of 3.509. The third passage on the Paneion, Ant. 15.364 is a reworking of War 1.405-406); 131-134 Ory Amitay, Some Ioudaoi-Lakonian Rabbis (Offers suggestions for the meaning of Ben-Lakonia, an onomastic element in a family of rabbis some time after the destruction of the Temple, and tries to connect it to the Spartan dynast Eurykles); 27 (2008), 35-53 Lincoln Blumell, Social Banditry? Galilean Banditry from Herod until the Outbreak of the First Jewish Revolt (Challenges Horsley’s characterization of Galilean banditry as social banditry in the sense of Eric Hobsbawm’s work, and argues that it “might best be seen within the framework of patron-client relationships, where elites and local strong men guarded their interests in the countryside by hiring and patronizing certain gangs”); 67-93 Fergus Millar, Community, Religions and Language in the Middle-Euphrates Zone in Late Antiquity (Includes, pp. 82-84, a section on “Jewish Communities in the Middle-Euphrates Zone”); 113-131 Dov Gera, Josephus: Craft and Environment (Long review article of J. Edmondson, S. Mason, and J. Rives, Flavius Josephus and Flavian Rome and J. Sievers and G. Lembi, Josephus and Jewish History in Flavian Rome and Beyond). Eibert Tigchelaar Studia Hebraica 7 (2007), 17-33 Ronit Meroz, A Journey of Initiation in the Babylonian Layer of Sefer Ha-Bahir (The paper focuses on a stylistic feature found in the Babylonian layer of Bahir: the dialogue of intellectual dueling between master and disciples. These passages of dueling in Bahir, as well as in Sefer Razah Rabbah, describe a process of initiation conducted by the master for his disciples. The master puts his disciples to the test, seeking to ascertain their knowledge of the structure of the upper world. After completion of their period of initiation, the disciples are sent on an independent journey of descent to the

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Merkavah, upon whose successful completion both heaven and earth rejoice); 8 (2008), 269-277 Nicolae Roddy, The Way It Wasn’t: The Book of Judith as Anti-Hasmonaean Propaganda (R. supports the view that the Book of Judith was highly critical of Hasmonean political excesses, and proffers that this ironic and subversive narrative accomplishes its critical purpose through the actions of its lead character, Judith. She represents ideally and ironically the kind of Hasmonean leadership the author wryly asserts should have been, spanning the gap between the poetic remembrance of Judah as glorious national icon of religious and political freedom on the one hand, and the lived sociopolitical experience under his nephew and great-nephews, especially Alexander Jannaeus on the other. The tone and tenor suggest a period of time near the turn of the 1st c. B.C.E., as criticism of the nation’s leadership, especially in terms of its aggressive military expansion and the use of forced circumcision, led to increasing and eventually violent polarization between the popular Pharisees and their Hasmonean, proSadducean national leaders). Eibert Tigchelaar Studies in Religion / Sciences Religieuses 37/2 (2008), 183-209 JeanJacques Lavoie, Ironie et ambiguïtés en Qohélet 10, 16-20 (The irony of Qohelet borrows the ways of the semantic and structural ambiguity, the hyperbole and the parody). Jean Duhaime Zion [Hebrew with Summaries in English] 73 (2008), 119-138 Daniela Dueck, The Feast of Tabernacles and the Cult of Dionysus: A Cross-Cultural Dialogue (Greek and Roman sources, above all Plutarch, Symp. 4.6.2, and Tacitus, Hist. 5.5 emphasize similarities between Jewish customs of Sukkot and the cult of Dionysus. Both seem to rely on the report of a Greek eyewitness to the festival. They mention the date of Sukkot at the end of the harvest season, the thyrsus procession, the ivy garlands worn by the priest and the trumpets or pipes sounded during the festival. The study analyzes parallels between the festival of Dionysus and that of Sukkot: both are, at least in part, harvest festivals. In Greek festivals, too, the participants sat in booths covered with fresh plants, in both the participants took part in a procession wearing branches or a thyrsus staff with a crown of ivy or wine leaves or a pinecone at the end. This may be compared with the four species the participants in the Jewish procession carry; in their concrete definition they all have their parallels in Hellenistic cultic practices. An outsider could easily understand the lulav as a thyrsus staff. Josephus, Ant. 13.372, also calls it thyrsus, or, in Ant. 3.245, eiresione, the name of the laurel branch, covered with wool and dressed with figs, used in the cult of Apollo. An outsider might also compare the dress of the high priest with that of a

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priest in the cult of Dionysus. Further parallels between the festivals are the connection with water; rejoicing with music, dance and exuberance. Under Antiochus IV Jews were forced to wear ivy wreaths for the procession in honour of Dionysus [2 Macc 6:7]; 2 Macc 14:33 speaks of the threat to erect a temple of Dionysus on the site of the Jerusalem temple. Both may be explained with the outward resemblance between the two cults. The parallels are part of an interpretatio Graeca of the Jewish cult; at the same time, they also reveal mutual influence of the two cultures). Günter Stemberger

Journal for the Study of Judaism 40 (2009) 596-601

brill.nl/jsj

Contents Volume 40 (2009) Articles Yonatan Adler, Ritual Baths Adjacent to Tombs: An Analysis of the Archaeological Evidence in Light of the Halakhic Sources ....... Alan Appelbaum, “The Idumaeans” in Josephus’ The Jewish War ... Eyal Ben Eliyahu, The Rabbinic Polemic against Sanctification of Sites ...................................................................................... Christian M. M. Brady, The Use of Eschatological Lists within the Targumim of the Megilloth ...................................................... Ronald Charles, Hybridity and the Letter of Aristeas .................. Benedikt Eckhardt, PsSal 17, die Hasmonäer und der Herodompeius .................................................................................. Ted M. Erho, The Ahistorical Nature of 1 Enoch 56:5-8 and Its Ramifications upon the Opinio Communis on the Dating of the Similitudes of Enoch ................................................................... Alexander Kulik, Genre without a Name: Was There a Hebrew Term for “Apocalypse”? ....................................................................... Tommaso Leoni, The Text of Josephus’s Works: An Overview ..... David B. Levenson and Thomas R. Martin, Akairos or Eukairos? The Nickname of the Seleucid King Demetrius III in the Transmission of the Texts of Josephus’ War and Antiquities .............. Vered Noam, Stringency in Qumran: A Reassessment ................. Matthew V. Novenson, Why Does R. Akiba Acclaim Bar Kokhba as Messiah? .............................................................................. Annette Yoshiko Reed, The Construction and Subversion of Patriarchal Perfection: Abraham and Exemplarity in Philo, Josephus, and the Testament of Abraham ................................................... Jordan D. Rosenblum, Kosher Olive Oil in Antiquity Reconsidered Steven Weitzman, Warring against Terror: The War Scroll and the Mobilization of Emotion ........................................................... Yael Wilfand, Aramaic Tombstones from Zoar and Jewish Conceptions of the Afterlife ........................................................................... © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2009

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Contents Volume 40 (2009) / Journal for the Study of Judaism 40 (2009) 596-601

Book Reviews Samuel L. Adams, Wisdom in Transition: Act and Consequence in Second Temple Instructions (Benjamin G. Wright III) ............... Russell C. D. Arnold, The Social Role of Liturgy in the Religion of the Qumran Community (Eileen Schuller) .................................... Daniel Assefa, L’ Apocalypse des animaux (1 Hen 85-90) une propagande militaire? Approches narrative, historico-critique, perspectives théologiques (Daniel C. Olson) ................................................. Elias J. Bickerman, Studies in Jewish and Christian History: A New Edition in English Including The God of the Maccabees ( Jan Willem van Henten) ................................................................ Thomas R. Blanton, IV, Constructing a New Covenant: Discursive Strategies in the Damascus Document and Second Corinthians (Charlotte Hempel) .................................................................................... Joseph Blenkinsopp, Opening the Sealed Book: Interpretations of the Book of Isaiah in Late Antiquity (Antti Laato) ........................... Mareike Verena Blischke, Die Eschatologie der Sapientia Salomonis (Martina Kepper) ...................................................................... Gabriele Boccaccini and John J. Collins (eds.), The Early Enoch Literature (Matthew Goff ) ....................................................... Gideon Bohak, Ancient Jewish Magic: A History (Pieter W. van der Horst) ..................................................................................... Dagmar Börner-Klein, Gefährdete Braut und schöne Witwe: Hebräische Judit-Geschichten (P. C. Beentjes) ............................ Katharina Bracht and David S. du Toit (eds.), Die Geschichte der Daniel-Auslegung in Judentum, Christentum und Islam: Studien zur Kommentierung des Danielbuches in Literatur und Kunst (Matthias Henze) ..................................................................................... David Brodsky, A Bride without a Blessing: A Study in the Redaction and Content of Massekhet Kallah and its Gemara (Evyatar Marienberg) Caroline Carlier, La cité de Moïse: Le peuple juif chez Philon d’Alexandrie (Folker Siegert) .................................................... Michel Casevitz, Cécile Dogniez and Marguerite Harl, La Bible d’Alexandrie: Les douze prophètes. Aggée, Zacharie ( Jan Dochhorn) Andrew Chester, Messiah and Exaltation: Jewish Messianic and Visionary Traditions and New Testament Christology (Christfried Böttrich) ................................................................................

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Naomi G. Cohen, Philo’s Scriptures: Citations from the Prophets and Writings. Evidence for a Haftarah Cycle in Second Temple Judaism (Robert Hayward) ..................................................................... Shaye J. D. Cohen and Joshua J. Schwartz (eds.), Studies in Josephus and the Varieties of Ancient Judaism: Louis H. Feldman Jubilee Volume (Paul Spilsbury) ................................................. Henk Jan de Jonge and Johannes Tromp (eds.), The Book of Ezekiel and Its Influence (Beate Kowalski) .............................................. Estēe Dvorjetski, Leisure, Pleasure and Healing: Spa Culture and Medicine in Ancient Eastern Mediterranean (Zeev Weiss) ............ Werner Eck, Rom und Judaea: Fünf Vorträge zur römischen Herrschaft in Palestina (Stefan Beyerle) ..................................................... N. Fernández Marcos, V. Spottorno Díaz-Caro, J. M. Cañas Reíllo, Índice Griego-Hebreo del Texto Antioqueno en los Libros Históricos. Volumen I: Índice general. Volumen II: Índice de nombros propios (Michaël N. van der Meer) ........................................... David Flusser, Judaism of the Second Temple Period: Volume 1. Qumran and Apocalypticism (Mark Jason) ................................. David Flusser with R. Steven Notley, The Sage from Galilee: Rediscovering Jesus’ Genius (Alberdina Houtman) ....................... Charlotte Elisheva Fonrobert and Martin S. Jaffee (eds.), The Cambridge Companion to the Talmud and Rabbinic Literature (Günter Stemberger) ............................................................... Steven D. Fraade, Aharon Shemesh, and Ruth A. Clements (eds.), Rabbinic Perspectives: Rabbinic Literatures and the Dead Sea Scrolls (Mark Jason) ............................................................................. Jörg Frey, Daniel R. Schwartz, and Stephanie Gripentrog (eds.), Jewish Identity in the Greco-Roman World / Jüdische Identität in der griechisch-römischen Welt ( Jan Willem van Henten) ................. Emmanuel Friedheim, Rabbinisme et paganisme en Palestine romaine: étude historique des Realia talmudiques (Ier-IVème siècles) (Michael Helfield) ................................................................................. Michael E. Fuller, The Restoration of Israel: Israel’s Re-Gathering and the Fate of the Nations in Early Jewish Literature and Luke-Acts (Sean Freyne) .................................................................................... Florentino García Martínez and Mladen Popovi (eds.), Defining Identities: We, You, and the Other in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Proceedings of the Fifth Meeting of the IOQS in Groningen ( Joseph Baumgarten) ...........................................................................

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Albert Gerhards and Clemens Leonhard (eds.), Jewish and Christian Liturgy and Worship: New Insights into its History and Interaction (Paul Bradshaw) ..................................................... Matthew J. Goff, Discerning Wisdom: The Sapiential Literature of the Dead Sea Scrolls (Géza Xeravits) ............................................... Martin Goodman, Judaism in the Roman World: Collected Essays ( John M. G. Barclay) .............................................................. Robert P. Gordon, Hebrew Bible and Ancient Versions: Selected Essays of Robert P. Gordon (Alberdina Houtman) ................................ Mireille Hadas-Lebel, Jerusalem against Rome (Paul Spilsbury) ... Michaela Hallermayer, Text und Überlieferung des Buches Tobit (Naomi S. Jacobs) .................................................................... Paul Heger, Cult as the Catalyst for Division: Cult Disputes as the Motive for the Schism in the Pre-70 Pluralistic Environment (Russell C. D. Arnold) ............................................................ Desta Heliso, Pistis and the Righteous One ( James Dunn) ............ Martin Hengel and Anna Maria Schwemer, Jesus und das Judentum (Peter J. Tomson) ...................................................... Martha Himmelfarb, A Kingdom of Priests: Ancestry and Merit in Ancient Judaism (William Loader) ............................................ Leslie J. Hoppe, There Shall Be No Poor among You: Poverty in The Bible (Benjamin G. Wold) ........................................................ Richard A. Horsley, Scribes, Visionaries, and the Politics of Second Temple Judea ( Jeremy Corley) .................................................. Giovanni Ibba, Le ideologie del Rotolo della Guerra (1QM): Studio sulla genesi e la datazione dell’opera ( Jaime Vázquez Allegue) ... Tal Ilan, Massekhet Ta‘anit: Text, Translation, and Commentary (Dvora E. Weisberg) ................................................................ Tal Ilan, Tamara Or, Dorothea M. Salzer, Christiane Steuer and Irina Wandrey (eds.), A Feminist Commentary on the Babylonian Talmud: Introduction and Studies (Lieve Teugels) ...................... Sabrina Inowlocki, Eusebius and the Jewish Authors: His Citation Technique in an Apologetic Context ( Joan E. Taylor) ................... Jan Joosten and Jean-Sébastien Rey (eds.), Conservatism and Innovation in the Hebrew Language of the Hellenistic Period: Proceedings of a Fourth International Symposium on the Hebrew of the Dead Sea Scrolls & Ben Sira (Pancratius C. Beentjes) .......... Steven T. Katz (ed.), The Cambridge History of Judaism: Volume 4 (Lieve Teugels) .........................................................................

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Anders Klostergaard Petersen, Jesper Hyldahl and Kåre Sigvald Fuglseth (eds.), Perspektiver på Jødisk Apologetik (Gunnar Haaland) ................................................................... Anders Klostergaard Petersen, Jesper Hyldahl and Kåre Sigvald Fuglseth (eds.), Perspektiver på Jødisk Apologetik (Helge S. Kvanvig) ................................................................... Gary N. Knoppers and Bernard M. Levinson (eds.), The Pentateuch as Torah: New Models for Understanding Its Promulgation and Acceptance (Rainer Albertz) ..................................................... Antti Laato and Jacques van Ruiten (eds.), Rewritten Bible Reconsidered: Proceedings of the Conference in Karkku, Finland August 24-26, 2006 (Pancratius C. Beentjes) ........................... Alexis Léonas, L’aube des traducteurs: De l’hébreu au grec: traducteurs et lecteurs de la Bible des Septante (IIIe s. av. J.-C.—IV e s. apr. J.-C.) (Hans Ausloos) ........................................................................ Clemens Leonhard, The Jewish Pesach and the Origins of the Christian Easter: Open Questions in Current Research ( Judith H. Newman) .................................................................................. Robert J. Littman, Tobit: The Book of Tobit in Codex Sinaiticus (Tobias Nicklas) ...................................................................... Steve Mason (ed.), Flavius Josephus: Translation and Commentary. Volume 10: Against Apion (Francesca Calabi) ............................ Lee Martin McDonald, The Biblical Canon: Its Origin, Transmission, and Authority (Klaas Spronk) ............................................ Yuzuru Miura, David in Luke-Acts: His Portrayal in the Light of Early Judaism (Wim J. C. Weren) ..................................................... George W. E. Nickelsburg, Resurrection, Immortality, and Eternal Life in Intertestamental Judaism and Early Christianity. Expanded Edition ( Jan Willem van Henten) ............................................ Jacobine G. Oudshoorn, The Relationship between Roman and Local Law in the Babatha and Salome Komaise Archives: General Analysis and Three Case Studies on Law of Succession, Guardianship and Marriage (Friedrich Avemarie) .................................................. Leo G. Perdue, The Sword and the Stylus: An Introduction to Wisdom in the Age of Empires (Matthew Goff ) ....................................... Leo G. Perdue (ed.), Scribes, Sages, and Seers: The Sage in the Eastern Mediterranean World (Pancratius C. Beentjes) .......................... Mladen Popovi, Reading the Human Body: Physiognomics and Astrology in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Hellenistic-Early Roman Period Judaism (Barbara Böck) ............................................................

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Hanneke Reuling, After Eden: Church Fathers and Rabbis on Genesis 3:16-21 (Gary A. Anderson) ................................................... Nissan Rubin, Time and Life Cycle in Talmud and Midrash: Socioanthropological Perspectives (Wout van Bekkum) ........................ Anders Runesson, Donald D. Binder, and Birger Olsson, The Ancient Synagogue from its Origins to 200 C.E.: A Source Book (Kenneth Atkinson) ................................................................. Peter Schäfer, Jesus in the Talmud (Hanneke Reuling) ................ Michael Segal, The Book of Jubilees: Rewritten Bible, Redaction, Ideology and Theology (Anke Dorman) ...................................... Elizabeth Shanks Alexander, Transmitting Mishnah: The Shaping Influence of Oral Tradition (Yair Furstenberg) .......................... Shmuel Shepkaru, Jewish Martyrs in the Pagan and Christian World (Gottfried Reeg) ....................................................................... Emanuel Tov, Hebrew Bible, Greek Bible, and Qumran: Collected Essays (Theo van der Louw) ..................................................... R. M. M. Tuschling, Angels and Orthodoxy: A Study in their Development in Syria and Palestine from the Qumran Texts to Ephrem the Syrian (Charles A. Gieschen) ................................. Theo A. W. van der Louw, Transformations in the Septuagint: Towards an Interaction of Septuagint Studies and Translation Studies (Raija Sollamo) ........................................................................ George H. van Kooten and Jacques van Ruiten (eds.), The Prestige of the Pagan Prophet Balaam in Judaism, Early Christianity and Islam (Martin Rösel) ................................................................ Anssi Voitila and Jutta Jokiranta (eds.), Scripture in Transition: Essays on Septuagint, Hebrew Bible, and Dead Sea Scrolls in Honour of Raija Sollamo ( Johann Cook) ............................................... Ian C. Werrett, Ritual Purity and the Dead Sea Scrolls (Mark Jason) ....................................................................................... Géza G. Xeravits and József Zsengellér (eds.), The Books of the Maccabees: History, Theology, Ideology. Papers of the Second International Conference on the Deuterocanonical Books. Pápa, Hungary, 9-11 June 2005 (Michael Becker) .............................. Magnus Zetterholm (ed.), The Messiah in Early Judaism and Christianity (Géza Xeravits) .............................................................

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