Fountains of Wisdom in Conversation With James H. Charlesworth (Gerbern S. Oegema (Editor) Etc.) (Bibis - Ir)

FOUNTAINS OF WISDOM
FOUNTAINS
OF WISDOM
In Conversation with James H. Charlesworth
Edited by
Gerbern S. Oegema, Henry W. Morisada Rietz,
and Loren T. Stuckenbruck
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Names: Oegema, Gerbern S., 1958– editor. | Rietz, Henry W. Morisada (Henry Wolfgang Morisada), 1967– editor. |
Stuckenbruck, Loren T., editor. | Charlesworth, James H., honouree.
Title: Fountains of wisdom : in conversation with James H. Charlesworth /
edited by Gerbern S. Oegema, Henry Rietz, and Loren T. Stuckenbruck.
Description: London ; New York : T&T Clark, 2022. |
Includes bibliographical references and index. | Summary: “Essays on biblical
texts including the New Testament and the Dead Sea Scrolls, with a focus
on the history of interpretation and the work of James H. Charlesworth”– Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2021033474 (print) | LCCN 2021033475 (ebook) |
ISBN 9780567701275 (hb) | ISBN 9780567701312 (paperback) | ISBN 9780567701282 (pdf) |
ISBN 9780567701305 (epub)
Subjects: LCSH: Bible–Criticism, interpretation, etc. |
Apocryphal books–Criticism, interpretation, etc. | Bible. Apocrypha–Criticism, interpretation, etc. |
Dead Sea scrolls–Criticism, interpretation, etc.
Classification: LCC BS511.3 .F68 2022 (print) |
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CONTENTS
P reface xi
A S election of M ajor W orks by J ames H. C harlesworth xv
C ontributors xvii
Part 1 Hebrew Bible and New Testament
1 The Interpretation of Genesis 4:10 in Early Jewish Literature 3

John R. Levison
2 Abraham et l’abrahamisme: Mythe ou réalité? 15

Simon C. Mimouni
3 Hebrews, the Aqedah, and Early Scriptural Interpretation 29

C. D. Elledge
4 The Etymology of ‫ בליעל‬Once Again: A Case of Tabooistic Deformation? 43

Brent A. Strawn
5 Just What We Need: Another Allusion in Luke 1? 55

John B. F. Miller
6 Repentance and Turning as a Unified Motif in Luke-Acts 67

Kindalee Pfremmer De Long
7 Do Mark 16:9–20 and John 7:53–8:11 Belong in Our Bibles? A Case Study in
the Intersection of Textual Criticism and Canonical Considerations 83
Loren L. Johns
8 Reconsidering the Poor: A Fresh Translation of Matthew 5:3 107

Johan Ferreira
9 Christology in John’s Crucifixion Quotations 127

Michael A. Daise
10 Touching the Risen Jesus: Did Jesus Allow Thomas to Do What He Refused to Mary? 143
Lidija Novakovic
viiiContents
11 Who Is My brother? A Study of the Term ἀδελφὸς in the Acts of the Apostles 155
Claire Pfann
12 How Much of Israel Will Be Saved—A Remnant or All of Israel? A Fresh Look
at Romans 9–11 177
Stephen J. Pfann
13 Jesus Tradition, Christian Creeds, and the New Testament Canon 185
Lee Martin McDonald
Part 2 Greco-Roman and Jewish World
14 When Ontology Meets Eschatology: A Platonized Reading of Deuteronomy 28:1–14 201

Gregory E. Sterling
15 On John the Baptist at the Jordan River: Geohistorical and Archaeological

Considerations217
Shimon Gibson
16 Greco-Roman and Jewish Historiography as Backdrop for the Gospels 241

Darrell L. Bock
17 From, To, In, and Through Caesarea: Herod’s Imperial City as Significant
Narrative Setting and Literary Linking Device in the Acts of the Apostles 257
Jonathan E. Soyars
18 Metatron and Naar: Combining Titles and Revelation 3:21 as a Probable

Riddle-Solver281
Konstantinos Th. Zarras
19 Some Considerations on Ethics in Early Jewish Theologies and the New Testament 295
Gerbern S. Oegema
Part 3 Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha
20 The Pseudepigrapha and Second Temple Judaism 311

John J. Collins
21 Enoch’s Prayer for Rescue from the Flood: 1 Enoch 83–84, with a New
Translation and Notes 323
Loren T. Stuckenbruck
Contents ix
22 Cain and the Example of the Birds 339

Christfried Böttrich
23 Die Bedeutung der Assumptio Mosis für die Erforschung des frühen Christentums 353
Jan Dochhorn
24 Neither Deuteronomic nor Priestly: The Psalms of Solomon as the Original

Answer of Learned Scribes to the Wickedness of High Priests 363
Patrick Pouchelle
Part 4 Dead Sea Scrolls
25 Contextual Errors in 1QISaa: How the Scribe Was Impacted by His

Textual Environment 387
Donald W. Parry
26 Psalmenhandschriften in den Qumrantexten 403

Hermann Lichtenberger
27 “Luxury Scrolls” from the Judean Desert 421

Emanuel Tov
28 Qumran Readings in Agreement with the Septuagint against the Masoretic

Text. Part Four: 2 Samuel 433
Corrado Martone
29 When Prophecy Fails: Apocalyptic Schemes for Dating the “Appointed Time of
the End” in the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Jesus Movement 443
James D. Tabor
30 Science Fiction in the Dead Sea Scrolls: The Case of Mary Shelley’s
Frankenstein and the Nephilim 455
Helen R. Jacobus
Part 5 History of Scholarship
31 Of Moses, Mountains, and Models: Joseph Smith’s Book of Moses in Dialogue

with the Greek Life of Adam and Eve469
David Calabro
xContents
32 Paul Fiebig’s Reply to Arthur Drews on the Miracles of Jesus and Apollonius of Tyana 483
Craig A. Evans
33 Italian Scholarship on Second Temple Judaism and Christian Origins, from the
Renaissance to the Twentieth Century 501
Gabriele Boccaccini
I ndex on A uthors 515

With credit to Anja Hötschl
I ndex on P assages 527
With credit to Anja Hötschl
I ndex on S ubjects 561
PREFACE
Dear Jim,
It is a great honor and a personal pleasure to present this “Festschrift” to you on the occasion of your
eightieth birthday and the retirement from your professorship at Princeton Theological Seminary
both as the George L. Collord Professor of New Testament Language and Literature and as the
director of the Dead Sea Scrolls Project. We have decided to call the Festschrift a “Conversation”
as we want to highlight a central aspect of your scholarship and personality, namely that you have
always placed the academic exchange and dialogue with other scholars, whether junior or senior,
from past, present, and future generations in the center of all your work. More so, you have put
the dialogue between the very subdisciplines in Biblical Studies, whether New Testament Studies,
Qumran Studies, Pseudepigrapha Research, Archeology, Hermeneutics, and indeed also the global
Church, in the center of your life and work.
In everything you have done, you have always encouraged other colleagues, whether senior
professors or young and aspiring graduate students, in their own work and have offered them
multiple opportunities to join in a conversation and to contribute to a seminar, a conference, or
a publication. Allow us to give some examples from our own lives, which you have touched in so
many ways. After you had edited and published the two-volume Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, as
such already a monument of cooperation with over fifty colleagues from many different fields and
a lasting contribution to Biblical Studies that would change the discipline in so many ways, you
would promote the work and attend many international conferences.
On one of them, a Jewish Studies conference in 1987 in Berlin organized by Peter Schäfer, you
not only gave one of the main papers but also engaged and curiously asked about the research of
young graduate students, of which I was one, showing your interest in the work of scholars not only
from North America but also from East and West Europe and Israel. When I told you that I was
working on the “messianic expectations” during the Second Temple Period, you immediately sent
me the papers of a conference you had organized on the topic “The Messiah” before they were even
published, so that you could help me with my research.
Another example of your trailblazing research were your early efforts to fruitfully engage in
research into the Dead Sea Scrolls with New Testament Studies. Whereas you were not the first
one, as a previous generation of scholars had already started with it, you were one of the most
successful ones. You were not only successful in editing and translating the Dead Sea Scrolls in the
multivolume Princeton Theological Seminary Dead Sea Scrolls Project for many years but also, for
example, you have cochaired, together with Hermann Lichtenberger of the University of Tübingen,
the Societas Novi Testamenti Studiorum Seminar on “Qumran and Christian Origins” for many
years. By doing this you have initiated and invited many young scholars to find new paths in
research and engage in international exchange at the highest level.
xiiPreface
Equally successful were your contributions to the SNTS Seminar on “The Pseudepigrapha
and Christian Origins” and other venues of motivating and supporting exchange between
Pseudepigrapha Research and New Testament Studies, such as the Society of Biblical Literature
and the Enoch Seminar, since several decades. On top of that you would organize your own very
successful conferences, such as the Princeton–Prague Symposium on Jesus and The Dead Sea Scrolls
and the Bible.
A further example of your lasting contributions is found in your successful efforts to place the
study of the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Pseudepigrapha, and the New Testament in the broader context
of the study of Early Judaism and Christian Origins, a field that has radically changed from seeing
“Late Judaism” as only contributing to the Christian New Testament to being an independent area
of research that was crucial for the development of later Christianity and Rabbinic Judaism, the
post-Holocaust Jewish-Christian dialogue, indeed modern-day church and society. One outcome of
this approach was the 2003 conference on “The Changing Face of Judaism, Christianity and Other
Greco-Roman Religions” that was inspired by and dedicated to your contributions.
You have helped revolutionize the study of the Historical Jesus and the Gospel of John: in the
first case by offering a view on the Jewishness of Jesus firmly based on your vast expertise of the
archeology of the Land of Israel, and in the second case by offering an interpretation of the Gospel
of John that is informed by your study of the Qumran writings and the life and thought in first-
century Palestine. It was therefore only natural to invite you to give the opening address at a 2014
conference on “New Vistas on Early Judaism and Christianity,” where fifty young scholars were
invited to present their ideas for future research. Finally, you have also always communicated the
latest research to a church and lay audience, whether on the BBC or on tours to Israel and the
Middle East. And we could go on and on like this.
But let us now briefly introduce this collection of chapters honoring you. The Festschrift
and Conversation consist of many intertwined “axes” of research that have all benefited from
the research on the Pseudepigrapha, the Dead Sea Scrolls, and the Historical Jesus initiated and
supported by our Jubilee.
PART 1 HEBREW BIBLE AND NEW TESTAMENT

The (re)discovery and the subsequent study of the Pseudepigrapha and the discovery and publication
of the Dead Sea Scrolls have revolutionized Biblical Studies and led to a new field, that of Early
Judaism, as distinct from the religion of ancient Israel and early Christianity. From serving as
the “Jewish background” of the New Testament, Early Judaism is now front and center of every
scholar and student of the Bible. The importance of an ongoing and creative process of biblical
interpretation is one aspect of this tidal change initiated by the research and publications of Jim
Charlesworth. In honor and recognition of this the following contributions show examples of this
mutually fruitful process starting with a whole new perspective of biblical interpretation, if one
includes the early Jewish witnesses. John R. Levison in his chapter “The Interpretation of Genesis
4:10 in Early Jewish Literature” shows the various early Jewish interpretations of Cain killing Abel.
Simon C. Mimouni in his chapter “Abraham et l’abrahamisme: Mythe ou réalité?” shows aspects
of the growing importance of the figure of Abraham in Early Judaism and beyond. C. D. Elledge
in his chapter “Hebrews, the Aqedah, and Early Scriptural Interpretation” shows the many often
differing interpretations of Abraham binding his son Isaac. And Brent A. Strawn in his chapter
Preface xiii
“The Etymology of ‫ בליעל‬Once Again: A Case of Tabooistic Deformation?” analyzes the loaded
term “Belial.”
Moving on to the New Testament, we witness the lasting influence of taking the early Jewish
world into account, in which the Jesus movement started, a world in which there was so much
interaction and creativity going on that nowadays one cannot understand the New Testament
anymore without it, as every established or aspiring scholar agrees with. This has led to many new
linguistic observations, tradition-historical connections, as well as questions about text, canon, and
theology challenging past views. We find telling examples of this new perspective in John B. F.
Miller’s chapter on “Just What We Need: Another Allusion in Luke 1?,” and in Kindalee Pfremmer
De Long’s reflections on “Repentance and Turning as a Unified Motif in Luke-Acts.” Loren L. Johns
offers a fresh look at a much debated topic in his “Do Mark 16:9–20 and John 7:53–8:11 Belong in
Our Bibles? A Case Study in the Intersection of Textual Criticism and Canonical Considerations,”
whereas Johan Ferreira offers a new translation of Matt 5:3 in his “Reconsidering the Poor: A Fresh
Translation of Matthew 5:3.” These radical changes in research do not come without equally radical
changes in our theology and self-perception, when we look at the old text with a fresh look. Michael
A. Daise raises important issues in his chapter “Christology in John’s Crucifixion Quotations”; Lidija
Novakovic does the same in her chapter “Touching the Risen Jesus: Did Jesus Allow Thomas to
Do What He Refused to Mary?,” whereas Claire Pfann gives us an in-depth look into the term
“brother” in her chapter, “Who Is My brother? A Study of the Term ἀδελφὸς in the Acts of the
Apostles,” followed by Stephen J. Pfann offering an equally refreshing look at Romans 9–11 in his
“How Much of Israel Will Be Saved—A Remnant or All of Israel? A Fresh Look at Romans 9–11,”
which is completed by a far-reaching text-critical and theological study by canon-expert Lee Martin
McDonald in his chapter “Jesus Tradition, Christian Creeds, and the New Testament Canon.”
PART 2 GRECO-ROMAN AND JEWISH WORLD

Because of the interaction between early Judaism and the Greco-Roman world since Alexander
the Great, the whole matrix of early Christianity has changed, not only because of the many new
discoveries but also because of the new awareness of the full extent of the social and cultural
exchange that took place. We cannot read the New Testament anymore as a collection of books
following the Old Testament. Instead we have to look at every aspect of the complex world of
antiquity with great care and much attention for detail, as Jim has emphasized again and again in his
own research. Gregory E. Sterling does this in his chapter “When Ontology Meets Eschatology: A
Platonized Reading of Deuteronomy 28:1–14.” Shimon Gibson highlights another important aspect
of this world, namely that of archeology, in his chapter “On John the Baptist at the Jordan
River: Geohistorical and Archaeological Considerations.” Darrell L. Bock looks at different modes
of writing history in his chapter “Greco-Roman and Jewish Historiography as Backdrop for the
Gospels.” Jonathan E. Soyars looks at different connections between geography, architecture, and
narrative in his chapter “From, To, In, and Through Caesarea: Herod’s Imperial City as Significant
Narrative Setting and Literary Linking Device in the Acts of the Apostles.” Konstantinos Th. Zarras
does something similar with two intriguing terms in his chapter “Metatron and Naar: Combining
Titles and Revelation 3:21 as a Probable Riddle-Solver.” Finally Gerbern S. Oegema tries to find
red threads and some major trends in ethical reasoning from Early Judaism to the New Testament
in his chapter “Some Considerations on Ethics in Early Jewish Theologies and the New Testament.”
xivPreface
PART 3 APOCRYPHA AND PSEUDEPIGRAPHA

In order to honor one of the early and lasting research contributions of the Jubilee to the field of
Pseudepigrapha research, John J. Collins makes some sweeping observations and stimulating reflections
in his chapter “The Pseudepigrapha and Second Temple Judaism” whereas Loren T. Stuckenbruck
excels with his 1 Enoch and Ge’ez expertise in his chapter, “Enoch’s Prayer for Rescue from the
Flood: 1 Enoch 83–84, with a New Translation and Notes.” Further detailed studies on aspects of
the Pseudepigrapha are found in Christfried Böttrich’s chapter “Cain and the Example of the Birds,”
in Jan Dochhorn’s chapter, “Die Bedeutung der Assumptio Mosis für die Erforschung des frühen
Christentums,” and in Patrick Pouchelle’s chapter, “Neither Deuteronomic nor Priestly: The Psalms
of Solomon as the Original Answer of Learned Scribes to the Wickedness of High Priest.”
PART 4 DEAD SEA SCROLLS

No research in Biblical Studies can ever be done again without knowledge of the Dead Sea Scrolls,
both in terms of its importance for the study of Bible manuscripts and in terms of the access the scrolls
give us to the conceptual world of Early Judaism and one of its main spiritual movements. The former
aspect is discussed in four chapters. One by E. Parry on “Textual Errors in 1QIsaa: How the Scribe Was
Impacted by His Textual Environment,” one by Hermann Lichtenberger titled “Psalmenhandschriften
in den Qumrantexten,” one by Emanuel Tov on “ ‘Luxury Scrolls’ from the Judean Desert,” and one
by Corrado Martone titled “Qumran Readings in Agreement with the Septuagint against the Masoretic
Text. Part Four: 2 Samuel.” The latter aspect is discussed in detail by James D. Tabor in his chapter
“When Prophecy Fails: Apocalyptic Schemes for Dating the ‘Appointed Time of the End’ in the Dead
Sea Scrolls and the Jesus Movement,” as well as in the original contribution of Helen R. Jacobus titled
“Science Fiction in the Dead Sea Scrolls: The Case of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and the Nephilim,”
which marks the way into the later reception history of the Scrolls.
PART 5 HISTORY OF SCHOLARSHIP

The Festschrift is then completed by three chapters on the history of scholarship and reception of
different aspects of early Judaism, which throughout history have always played an important role
in Western culture but have especially done so during the past centuries. David Calabro discusses
important links between an ancient Pseudepigraphon and a modern author in his “Of Moses,
Mountains, and Models: Joseph Smith’s Book of Moses in Dialogue with the Greek Life of Adam
and Eve.” Craig A. Evans analyzes two modern scholars in his chapter “Paul Fiebig’s Reply to
Arthur Drews on the Miracles of Jesus and Apollonius of Tyana,” whereas Enoch Seminar founder
Gabriele Boccaccini talks about the important Italian connection to Pseudepigrapha research in his
“The Contribution of Italian Scholarship on Second Temple Judaism and Christian Origins, from
the Renaissance to the Twentieth Century.”
A SELECTION OF MAJOR WORKS BY
JAMES H. CHARLESWORTH
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1972). John and Qumran. London: Geoffrey Chapman.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1973). The Odes of Solomon. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1981). The Pseudepigrapha and Modern Research, with a Supplement. Septuagint
and Cognate Studies Series. 7. Chico, CA: Scholars Press for the Society of Biblical Literature.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1982). The History of the Rechabites. Chico, CA: Scholars Press.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1983–5). The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha. Vol. 1–2. New York: Double Day.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1985). The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha and the New Testament. Harrisburg,
PA. Trinity Press.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1990). John and the Dead Sea Scrolls. Chestnut Ridge, NY. Herder & Herder.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1991). Jesus’ Jewishness: Exploring the Place of Jesus within Early Judaism.
Crossroad: American Interfaith Institute.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1992). Jesus and the Dead Sea Scrolls. The Anchor Bible Reference Library.
New York: Doubleday.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1992). The Messiah. Developments in Earliest Judaism and Christianity.
Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1994–2021). The Dead Sea scrolls: Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek texts with the
English translations. Vol. 1–10. Louisville, KY/Tübingen: Westminster/John Knox/Mohr Siebeck.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1994). The Lord’s Prayer and Other Prayer Texts from the Greco-Roman
Era. UNKNO.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1995). The Beloved Disciple: Whose Witness Validates the Gospel of
John? UNKNO.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1996). The Dead Sea Scrolls: Rule of the Community. Louisville. KY: Westminster
John Knox Press.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1998). Authentic Apocrypha: False and Genuine Christian Apocrypha. North
Richland Hills, TX. D & F Scott.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1998). Critical Reflections on the Odes of Solomon. The Library of Second
Temple Studies. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1998). How Barisat Bellowed. Bibal Press.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (2000). The Bible and the Dead Sea Scrolls. Vol. 1: The Hebrew Bible and Qumran.
North Richland Hills, TX. D & F Scott.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (2006). Jesus and Archaeology. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (2006). The Bible and the Dead Sea Scrolls. Vols. 1–3. Waco, TX: Baylor
University Press.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (2008). The Historical Jesus: An Essential Guide. Nashville. TN. Abingdon Press.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (2010). The Good and Evil Serpent. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (2012). The Tomb of Jesus and His Family? Exploring Ancient Jewish Tombs Near
Jerusalem’s Walls. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (2014). Jesus and Temple: Textual and Archaeological Explorations. Minneapolis,
MN: Fortress Press.
xvi A SELECTION OF MAJOR WORKS
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1988). Jesus within Judaism: New Light from Exciting Archaeological Discoveries.
The Anchor Bible Reference Library. New York: Doubleday.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (2019). Jesus as Mirrored in John: The Genius in the New Testament. T&T Clark
Jewish and Christian Texts Series. London: T&T Clark.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (2019). The Unperceived Continuity of Isaiah. T&T Clark Jewish and Christian
Texts Series. London: T&T Clark.
Co-edited:
Charlesworth, James H.; Collins, John J., eds. (1991). Mysteries and Revelations: Apocalyptic Studies since the
Uppsala Colloquium. The Library of Second Temple Studies. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press.
Charlesworth, James H.; Evans, Craig, eds. (1993). The Pseudepigrapha and Early Biblical Interpretation. The
Library of Second Temple Studies. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press.
Charlesworth, James H.; Johns, Loren L., eds. (1997). Hillel and Jesus: Comparative Studies of Two Major
Religious Leaders. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press.
Charlesworth, James H.; Lichtenberger, Hermann; Oegema, Gerbern S., eds. (1998). Qumran-
Messianism: Studies on the Messianic Expectations in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr (Paul
Siebeck).
Charlesworth, James H.; Bock, Darrell L., eds. (2013). Parables of Enoch. A Paradigm Shift. London: T&T
Clark.
Charlesworth, James H.; McDonald, Lee; Jurgens, Blake A., eds. (2014). Sacra Scriptura: How “Non-
Canonical” Texts Functioned in Early Judaism and Early Christianity. T&T Clark Jewish and Christian
Texts Series. London: T&T Clark.
Charlesworth, James H., ed.; Medina, Michael (2014). Walking Through the Land of the Bible: Historical 3-D
Adventure. Jerusalem: Magnes Press.
Charlesworth, James H.; Oegema, Gerbern S., eds. (2008). The Pseudepigrapha and Christian Origins. T&T
Clark Jewish and Christian Texts Series. London: T&T Clark.
Charlesworth, James H.; Pokorný, Petr, eds. (2009). Jesus Research: An International Perspective. Grand
Rapids, MI: Eerdmans.
Charlesworth, James H.; Pruszinski, Jolyon G. R., eds. (2019). Jesus Research: The Gospel of John in Historical
Inquiry. T&T Clark Jewish and Christian Texts Series. London: T&T Clark.
Translations
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1990; with Gabriele Boccaccini; Italian ed.). Gli pseudepigrafi dell’Antico
Testamento e il Nuovo Testamento.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1994). Gesù nel giudaismo del suo tempo.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (1997). Gesù e la comunità di Qumran.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. (2002). L’ebraicità di Gesù (Italian ed.).
Charlesworth, James H., ed.; Ghirardi, P. trans., ed. (2007). Jésus et les nouvelles découvertes de l’archéologie.
Paris: Bayard (French ed.).
Gerbern S. Oegema, Henry W. Morisada Rietz,
and Loren T. Stuckenbruck
Montreal, Grinnell, and Munich
CONTRIBUTORS
Gabriele Boccaccini C. D. Elledge

University of Michigan Gustavus Adolphus College
Ann Arbor, Michigan Saint Peter, Minnesota
Darrell L. Bock Craig A. Evans

Dallas Theological Seminary Houston Theological Seminary
Dallas, Texas Houston, Texas
Christfried Böttrich Johan Ferreira

Greifswald University Melbourne School of Theology
Greifswald, Germany Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
David Calabro Shimon Gibson

Hill Museum and Manuscript Library University of North Carolina, Charlotte
Collegeville, Minnesota Charlotte, North Carolina
John J. Collins Helen R. Jacobus

Yale Divinity School University of Manchester
Yale University Manchester, United Kingdom
New Haven, Connecticut
Loren L. Johns
Michael A. Daise Anabaptist Mennonite Biblical Seminary
College of William and Mary Elkhart, Indiana
Williamsburg, Virginia
John R. Levison
Kindalee Pfremmer De Long Perkins School of Theology
Pepperdine University Southern Methodist University
Malibu, California Dallas, Texas
Jan Dochhorn Hermann Lichtenberger

Durham University Eberhard Karls University of Tübingen
Durham, United Kingdom Tübingen, Germany
xviiiContributors
Corrado Martone Henry W. Morisada Rietz

University of Turin Grinnell College
Turin, Italy Grinnell, Iowa
Lee Martin McDonald Jonathan E. Soyars

Acadia University Westminster College, University of Cambridge
Wolfville, Nova Scotia, Canada Cambridge, United Kingdom
John B. F. Miller Gregory E. Sterling

McMurry University Yale Divinity School
Abilene, Texas Yale University
New Haven, Connecticut
Simon C. Mimouni
École Pratique des Hautes Études Brent A. Strawn
Sorbonne, France Duke Divinity School
Duke University
Lidija Novakovic Durham, North Carolina
Baylor University
Waco, Texas Loren T. Stuckenbruck
Ludwig Maximilians University
Gerbern S. Oegema Munich, Germany
McGill University
Montreal, Quebec, Canada James D. Tabor
University of North Carolina, Charlotte
Donald W. Parry Charlotte, North Carolina
Brigham Young University
Provo, Utah Emanuel Tov
The Hebrew University of Jerusalem
Claire Pfann Jerusalem, Israel
University of the Holy Land
Jerusalem, Israel Konstantinos Th. Zarras
University of Athens
Stephen J. Pfann Athens, Greece
University of the Holy Land
Jerusalem, Israel
Patrick Pouchelle
Centre Sèvres – Facultés jésuites de Paris
Paris, France
PART ONE
Hebrew Bible and

New Testament
CHAPTER ONE
The Interpretation of Genesis

4:10 in Early Jewish Literature
JOHN R. LEVISON
Literary corpora from the Second Temple Period reveal a tendency to vilify Cain and to burnish
Abel.1 They become, as Judith Lieu has noted, the representatives of two seeds—two mutually
exclusive races. The impetus for this transformation of the primeval brothers, we shall see, stems
in part from an interpretation of Gen 4:10, in which Abel’s blood cries from the ground. The
purpose of this study, in honor of a scholar who brought so many ancient corpora into the
compass of our scope of knowledge, is to review early Jewish interpretations of Gen 4:10, as
well as to pay particular attention to the Greek Life of Adam and Eve (GLAE), which contains
an especially imaginative and gruesome iteration of Abel’s demise at the hand of his demagogic
brother.
1. GEN 4:10 IN EARLY JEWISH INTERPRETATION

While the Old Greek translation of Genesis 4, as Joel Lohr has shown, tends to underscore Cain’s
wickedness and Abel’s righteousness, its interpretation of Gen 4:10 is unremarkable.2 None of the
more inventive elements intended to resolve difficulties in the text is present in Gen 4:10.
One of the earliest extant iterations of Gen 4:10 occurs in 1 En. 22:5–7:
There I [Enoch] saw the spirit of a dead man making suit, and his lamentation went up to heaven
and cried and made suit. Then I asked Raphael, the watcher and holy one who was with me,
I wrote this chapter with the support of the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation while on research leave from Perkins
School of Theology, Southern Methodist University. My gracious host at Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität München was my
friend and colleague, Loren Stuckenbruck.
1
The most important studies include: V. Aptowitzer, Kain und Abel in der Agada, den Apokryphen, der hellenistischen,
christlichen und muhammedanischen Literature (Wien: R. Löwit, 1922); J. Byron, Cain and Abel: Jewish and Christian
Interpretations of the First Sibling Rivalry, TBN 14 (Leiden: Brill, 2011); and E. Grypeou and H. Spurling, The Book of
Genesis in Late Antiquity: Encounters Between Jewish and Christian Exegesis, JCP 24 (Leiden: Brill, 2013). J. Byron, “Cain
and Abel in Second Temple Literature and Beyond,” in The Book of Genesis: Composition, Reception, and Interpretation, ed.
C. Evans, J. Lohr, and D. Petersen, VTSup 152 (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 331–51, offers a summary, of sorts, of his monograph,
though without reference to the GLAE. In “Slaughter, Fratricide, and Sacrilege: Cain and Abel Traditions in 1 John 3,”
Biblica 88 (2007): 526–35, Byron looks more closely at Brudermord, and its ritual nuances, which he discerns in the word,
ἀνθρωποκτόνος, in 1 John 3:15.
2
See the excellent discussion by J. Lohr, “Righteous Abel, Wicked Cain: Genesis 4:1-16 in the Masoretic Text, the Septuagint,
and the New Testament,” CBQ 71 (2009): 485–96. See also T. Thatcher, “Cain and Abel in Early Christian Memory: A Case
Study in ‘The Use of the Old Testament in the New’,” CBQ 72 (2010): 732–51.
4 Fountains of Wisdom
and said to him, “This spirit that makes suit—whose is it—that thus his lamentation goes up and
makes suit unto heaven?” And he answered me and said, “This is the spirit that went forth from
Abel, whom Cain his brother murdered. And Abel makes accusation against him until his seed
perishes from the face of the earth, and his seed is obliterated from the seed of men.”3
In this metamorphosis, the crying of Abel’s blood has been replaced by the crying of Abel’s soul or
spirit. George Nickelsburg explains:
In this exegetical elaboration of Gen 4:10, Abel’s blood—in Genesis, inanimate but personified—
is understood as the seat of ‫“( נפשׁ‬life” or “soul;” cf. Gen 9:4), which in this author’s anthropology
is identified with ‫“( רוח‬spirit”). This spirit is in turn an active being, portrayed in terms familiar
to the Hellenistic world. It is like the restless spirit of the murdered Clytemnestra (Aeschylus
Eumenides 98), who cries out for revenge on the murderer.4
Abel is actually the representative of a larger ideology in which the spirits of those unjustly killed
appeal to God for vindication. In the next scene, the spirits are said to be separated, with the spirits
of sinners separated from “the spirits of them that make suit” (22:12). The vocabulary of 22:5–6
is similar to that of 1 En. 9:10, in which “the spirits of the souls of the men who have died make
suit; and their groan has come up to the gates of heaven; and it does not cease to come forth from
before the iniquities that have come upon the earth.”
Nickelsburg notes:
Both here and in 1 Enoch 6–11, the cry of the dead (and of the earth that has soaked up the
blood of the dead, 7:6; 9:2, 9; cf. Gen 4:11) continues to bring accusation until divine judgment
is executed against the murderer(s). Although 1 Enoch 22 was composed after chapters 6–11,
both may contain primitive elements of a common, earlier exegetical tradition on Gen 4:10.5
What divides 1 Enoch 6–11 from 1 Enoch 22 is not ideology but number; the former deals with
many souls, the latter with the soul exclusively of Abel.
Nickelsburg is wary of the view that Abel is here a “prototype of the martyred righteous.” This
may have been true in Christian texts, he cautions, but not in early pre-Christian Jewish texts,
which “emphasize not the righteousness of those who have been murdered, but the violence of
their murderers and the certain judgment that will befall them.”6
In another of the earliest iterations of Gen 4:10, Jub. 4:3 narrates, “When he killed him in a
field, his blood cried out from the ground to heaven—crying because he had been killed.” A few
elements are distinctive in this account. First, Abel’s death takes place in a field, presumably because
Cain earlier had told Abel to join him in the field (Gen 4:8); implicit in Genesis, this element is
explicit in Jubilees. Second, as James VanderKam notes, these words do not occur in a quotation of
God; Jubilees “entirely eliminates the quoted conversations between the Lord and Cain and settles
3
Translation from G. W. E. Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch 1: A Commentary on the Book of 1 Enoch, Chapters 1-36; 81-108,
Hermeneia (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2001), 300.
4
Ibid., 305.
5
Ibid., 305–6. We should add that there may be in 1 En. 22:5–7 an anticipation of a more developed view, in which not just
Abel but Abel’s seed died with the murder. Abel brings accusation until Cain’s seed is exterminated since Cain had brought
an end to Abel’s seed.
6
Ibid., 306.
Interpretation of Genesis 4:10 in Early Jewish Literature 5
for a third-person summary.”7 As a result, a third element emerges: the blood does not cry out to
God, “to me,” but “to heaven.” Fourth, Jubilees offers a rather redundant rationale for the blood’s
crying out: because Abel has been killed. Finally, later in the narrative, the author explains that Cain
died when “his house fell on him … He was killed by its stones for with a stone he had killed Abel
and, by a just punishment, he was killed with a stone” (Jub. 4.31). The surfeit of blood that cried
out, by implication, was due to Cain’s murdering Abel with stones.
Philo Judaeus offers his own take on Gen 4:10. In Det. 48–49, he paraphrases Gen 4:10 in order
to demonstrate that Abel, though dead, lived on—in the crying of his voice—so that “the wise
man, when seeming to die to the corruptible life, is alive to the incorruptible; but the worthless
man, while alive to the life of wickedness, is dead to the life happy.”8 Later, he cites the Old Greek
of Gen 4:10 verbatim and interprets it on a more literal level, when he states that the words “What
have you done?” “express as well indignation at an unrighteous act, as mockery of the man who
thought that his treachery had accomplished his brother’s death” (Det. 69). This brings him to the
point he made earlier, that Cain dies the death of the soul while Abel, whose voice cries out, lives
on. Cain is, like Balaam, one of the sophists, whom Philo vilifies (Det. 71–77). When Philo returns
to Gen 4:10, it is to the crying out of the blood, words which he considers a lovely interpretation
(Det. 79); “the loftiness of the phrasing,” muses Philo, “is patent to all who are conversant with
literature.”
Though he lauds it for its beauty of expression, Gen 4:10 poses a problem for Philo. Blood,
which represents the vital or physical part of a human being, should not be the portion that cries
out because the mind is the seat of reason and speech. After an extended encomium on the human
mind, Philo turns to his key heuristic point:
In the vital faculty, then, whose essence is blood, a portion has obtained, as a special prize, voice
and speech; I do not mean the stream flowing through the mouth and over the tongue, but the
fountain-head from which, by nature’s ordering, the cisterns of uttered speech are filled. This
fountain-head is the mind, through which, partly voluntarily, partly involuntarily, we utter aloud
entreaties and outcries to Him that IS. (Det. 92)
Philo sees the problem in having the blood cry out from the ground, but it is a problem easily
resolved by positing that speech resides in the realm of reason. Philo’s resolution, while inventive
with respect to the blood of Gen 4:10, is rooted in a common theme in Philo’s writings, in which
human beings are creatures composed of mind and body, reason and irrationality—though with
overlap between them. As is so often the case with Philo’s writings, his solution offers only modest
insight into the Greek text of Torah and much more into his own interests—in this case, the
allegedly vulgar culture of sophists and the elevated nature of the human mind. These digressions
give his interpretation of Gen 4:10 its peculiar Philonic hues.
Josephus takes up Gen 4:10 in Ant. 1.55–56 but fails to mention the crying of blood altogether.
Cain, he notes, tried to hide Abel’s corpse, “thinking to escape detection.” Not long after, “God,
aware of the deed, came to Cain, and asked him whither his brother had gone, since for many days
7
J. C. VanderKam, Jubilees: A Commentary on the Book of Jubilees, Hermeneia (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2018),
242. Translations of Jubilees are from this volume.
8
Philo makes a similar statement in QG 1.70. All translations of the works of Philo Judaeus and Flavius Josephus are from
the Loeb Classical Library.
He had not seen him, whom he had constantly before beheld in Cain’s company.” It is not, then,
the cry of blood that piques God’s curiosity but the noticeable absence of Abel from Cain’s side.
Later Jewish interpreters, unlike Josephus, would pay particular attention to the presence of
blood, especially the fact that the word blood, in the construct ‫דּמֵ י אָחִ יָך‬,ְ occurs in the plural rather
than singular. Though the plural in the biblical text, bloods, rather than blood, may simply underscore
the spilling of blood (e.g., 1 Kgs 2:5, 31; Isa 1:15), translators, in fact, tended to understand this
simply as blood (Old Greek, Peshitta, Samaritan Pentateuch). In a discussion of murder, by contrast,
m. Sanh. 4:5 preserves two interpretations of the plural construct noun: a witness is answerable
for the blood of a victim and his or her posterity; and the plural communicates the splattering of
blood over trees and stones. In the first, the difference between false witnesses in a property case
and a capital case is at issue. In a property case, a false witness can return money; in a capital case,
the blood of all those destined to be born from the accused cry out until the end of time. The text
cited to support this is Gen 4:10, with the following explanation: “It does not say, ‘The blood
of your brother,’ but, ‘The bloods of your brother’—his blood and the blood of all those who
were destined to be born from him.”9 The second explanation of the plural, ‫דּמֵ י‬,ְ is complementary
rather than contradictory; the plural is an indication that Abel’s blood was splattered on trees and
stones.10 Targums Onqelos and Neofiti also understand this as a reference to Abel’s descendants—
specifically righteous descendants in Neofiti—who would have, barring Abel’s premature death,
been born from him. Onqelos, for example, reads, blood, in the singular, but in an expanded
form, ‫קָ ל דַ ם זַר ֲעיָן דַ ע ֲִתידָ ן לְ ִמפַק ִמן אֲחוּך‬. The voice of those who would have come from Abel died when
Cain murdered him. Not just Abel but Abel’s seed was also lost on that fateful day of the first
murder.11 This emphasis upon Abel’s seed occurs as well in several rabbinic sayings in Gen. Rab. 22:9.
2. GENESIS 4:10 IN THE GREEK LIFE OF ADAM AND EVE

This brief analysis reveals how the crying of blood from the ground in Gen 4:10 took strikingly
different tacks in early Jewish imagination. In 1 Enoch, blood, the seat of life, is replaced by vitality,
by life, by spirit. In Jubilees, awareness that the blood cries out is not ascribed to God; it is simply
part of the narrative. Philo resolved the conundrum of why blood, in particular, cries out, through
an appeal to the two natures of humankind. Josephus ignored blood altogether, while the authors
of the Mishnah, Targum Onqelos, and Targum Neofiti focused upon the plural when they wrote
that Abel’s seed, his progeny, died on that day, along with Abel.
An alternative tack—arguably the most attentive and inventive in Antiquity—occurs in the Greek
Life of Adam and Eve, which preserves a horrific reinvention of Cain’s deed. In this scene, Cain’s
9
Translations of the Mishnah are from J. Neusner, The Mishnah: A New Translation (New Haven, CT: Yale University
Press, 1988).
10
For further discussion, see Gen. Rab. 22.9, where it is argued that Abel’s blood cried out because it had nowhere else to
go; Abel’s soul had not descended, and his body had not yet been buried, so the blood was splattered on trees and stones.
11
This, argues Judith Lieu, “What Was from the Beginning: Scripture and Tradition in the Johannine Epistles,” NTS 39
(1993): 458–77 at 469, is a pivotal point. The combination of the plural ‫ ְדּמֵ י אָחִ יָך‬in Gen 4:10 with Eve’s own claim that God
had given her “another seed” (my translation) in Gen 4:25, when understood in light of the woman’s and the serpent’s seeds
in Gen 3:15, “ ‘invited’ a continuing contrast and hostility between the seed of Cain or of the devil, and the seed stemming
from God’s creation of Adam which continues through Seth.” This perspective came to flower, claims Lieu, in Judaism—
already in Josephus (Ant. 65–69) but later, too, in Pirqe R. El. 21–22—and in Gnosticism, as well.
rising up against Abel becomes, through an inventive transformation of the crying of blood from
the earth, an instance of anthropophagy. Before discussing this riveting vignette, it is inevitable that
we discuss, even briefly, the date and composition of the Greek Life of Adam and Eve.
Given the difficult questions that attend the issue of the Jewish origin of GLAE, it may seem
injudicious to posit the possibility that it contains an early Jewish interpretation of Genesis
4. Yet, even apart from the detailed study of Jan Dochhorn, which posits a first- or second-
century date for GLAE as a Jewish composition, other considerations point to the significance
of GLAE.12 In terms of length, GLAE is the earliest extended narrative of Adam and Eve, Cain
and Abel, and Seth, outside of Genesis 1–5. This in itself is noteworthy. Further, the depth
of reflection represented in GLAE clusters around enduring theological foci, including the
character of sin (15–30), the nature of greed (1–2, 10–12), and immortality and resurrection
(31–42). Alongside these matters of significance may be included its profound engagement
with gritty human realities, such as pain and disease (6–8), and death and burial (38–43). It
is no surprise that GLAE exercised an extensive and expansive cultural influence, with related
versions extant in Latin, Ethiopian, Armenian, and Georgian.13 More to the point, as Dochhorn
has amply demonstrated, details in GLAE often arise from the Hebrew Bible, frequently as ways
of resolving difficulties; this draws Dochhorn to the likelihood of an early Jewish origin for
GLAE.14 Finally, I have argued elsewhere that GLAE preserves an interpretation of Adam and
Eve that more satisfactorily illuminates Rom 1:18-25 than the text of Genesis 1–5 itself; this
too suggests a relatively early date and Jewish origin for GLAE—at least for the traditions it
preserves.15 In light of these considerations, it may be injudicious not to include GLAE among
relatively early Jewish interpretations of Gen 4:10.
Still, a great deal distinguishes GLAE from other ancient interpretations of the Cain and Abel
story. The aporia in Genesis that spurred conversation, the issues that prompted dialogue, have
gone missing from GLAE. There is no interest in the relative ages of the brothers; it is not clear in
GLAE whether they were thought to be twins or brothers. There is certainly no interest in knowing
how old Abel was when he died, though this fired the imagination of many Jewish thinkers.16 There
is no interest in whether Abel was married17 or why God accepted Abel’s offering but not Cain’s;18
these questions, too, ancient Jewish thinkers raised. Not even their respective occupations and
the related nature of their offerings was of interest to the author of GLAE; there is no offering
whatsoever, in point of fact.19 GLAE does not expand upon the few words Cain said in Gen 4:8.20
GLAE does not proffer a motivation for murder, such as a heated discussion in the field over who
12
Jan Dochhorn, Apokalypse des Mose: Text, Übersetzung, Kommentar, TSAJ 106 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 149–72.
13
See M. E. Stone, A History of the Literature of Adam and Eve, SBLEJL 3 (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1992), 6–41 and
84–123.
14
Dochhorn, Apokalypse des Mose, 149–72.
15
J. R. Levison, “Adam and Eve in Romans 1.18-25 and the Greek Life of Adam and Eve,” NTS 50 (2004): 519–34.
16
See Aptowitzer, Kain und Abel, 1–6.
17
Ibid., 7–10.
18
Ibid., 28–43. Lohr, “Righteous Abel, Wicked Cain,” argues that Old Greek translators understood the inadequacy in
Cain’s offering to be ritual in nature. His article explains, in general terms, how the New Testament contrast of a wicked
Cain and righteous Abel is reliant upon the Greek translation rather than the Hebrew.
19
See Byron, Cain and Abel, 33–6, on their occupations, and 39–62 on their offerings.
20
Ibid., 63–72.
should inherit what, property or accouterments (e.g., Gen. Rab. 22:7), or who should possess the
land on which the offerings were given or whether there would be judgment (Targums Neofiti and
Ps-Jonathan on Gen 4:8). Other motivations, too, are left unexplored in GLAE: Cain’s desire for
Abel’s twin sister (e.g., Pirqe R. El. 21; see Gen. Rab. 22:7);21 or Cain’s desire to inherit the whole
world (e.g., Abot R. Nat. 45 [B]‌). Nor is there any interest in where the murder took place22 or
the belief that Abel threw Cain down first but was tricked into feeling pity (e.g., Gen. Rab. 22:8).
Absent as well is speculation about how Cain killed Abel, whether, as in Jewish discussion, with a
stone (e.g., Jub 4:31-32; Pirqe R. El. 21) or a rod (e.g., Gen. Rab. 22:8) or by slitting his throat, as
a sacrificial victim of sorts (Gen. Rab. 22:8).23 Nor is there interest in the so-called mark of Cain,
despite how alluring and elusive its meaning may have been to other ancient interpreters.24
All of the other elements that caught the attention of other ancient interpreters fall by the wayside
in the face of this gruesome scenario, which rises to the surface via a dream—a nightmare—that
Eve has one night:
Now after these things, Adam and Eve lived with one another. And while they were sleeping,
Eve said to her master, Adam, “My master, I—yes I—saw in a dream this very night the blood
of Abel, my son, being poured into the mouth of Cain his brother—and he drank it mercilessly!
And he kept on urging him to let up from it, on his behalf, if but for a moment. But he would
not listen to him. Instead he drank it whole! Yet it did not remain in his stomach but came out
of his mouth.” And Adam said, “Let’s get up to go and see what it is that has happened to them,
for fear that the enemy is waging some sort of battle against them. And as both went, they found
Abel murdered by the hand of Cain his brother.” (GLAE 2:1–3:1)25
In GLAE, Abel’s blood does not rest upon the ground; it enters Cain’s mouth and descends to his
stomach, from where it rises again. The descent and ascent of Abel’s blood in Gen 4:10, downward
onto the ground and then upward to God’s ears, is transformed in GLAE into a grisly instance of
anthropophagy.
The presence of blood is communicated by the participle βαλλόμενον. M.D. Johnson translates
this participle with “being thrust into,”26 Daniel Bertrand with “gicler dans,”27 Otto Merk and
Martin Meiser with “sich ergießen.”28 The simple translation, being poured, may be the most
appropriate. In LXX Judg 6:19, Gideon poured (ἔβαλεν) broth into a pot. In the gospels, new wine
21
See Aptowitzer, Kain und Abel, 10–28; and Byron, Cain and Abel, 28–9. Pirqe R. El. 21 explains Cain’s desire for
Abel’s twin sister: “in the field” refers to a woman, perhaps in reference to Deut 22:25. Aptowitzer points out differences
between Jewish and Christian speculation. For Jews, on the whole (there were exceptions, of course), Abel was married;
for Christians, he died a virgin. Christians tended to idealize Abel; Jews tended, contends Aptowitzer, to treat him with
indifference.
22
See Aptowitzer, Kain und Abel, 43–4.
23
Ibid., 44–52. The use of a rod or staff is based upon Lamech’s words in Gen 4:23; Lamech’s words allowed interpreters
to interject that mode of death into Cain’s story.
24
See Byron, Cain and Abel, 93–122, on the punishment of Cain.
25
Translations of GLAE are mine, based upon J. Tromp, The Life of Adam and Eve in Greek: A Critical Edition, PVTG 6
(Leiden: Brill, 2005).
26
M. D. Johnson, “Life of Adam and Eve,” in Expansions of the “Old Testament” and Legends, Wisdom and Philosophical
Literature, Prayers, Psalms, and Odes, Fragments of Lost Judeo-Hellenistic Works, vol. 2 of The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha,
ed. J. H. Charlesworth (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1985), 2:267.
27
D. Bertrand, La vie grecque d’Adam et Ève: introduction, texte, traduction et commentaire (Paris: Maisonneuve, 1987), 71.
28
O. Merk and M. Meiser, Das Leben Adams und Evas, JSHRZ 2.5 (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlag), 803.
is not to be poured into old wineskins (βάλλουσιν in Matt 9:17; βάλλει in Mark 2:22 and Luke
5:37; Matt 26:9–12 and parallels, in which the woman allegedly pours ointment on Jesus’ head,
is more ambiguous, as this could entail sprinkling). In John 13:5, Jesus pours water into a basin in
advance of washing his disciples’ feet. In Rev 12:15–16,
then from his mouth the serpent poured [ἔβαλεν] water like a river after the woman, to sweep
her away with the flood. But the earth came to the help of the woman; it opened its mouth and
swallowed the river that the dragon had poured [ἔβαλεν] from his mouth.
When the material that is cast is a fluid—broth or water or wine or, in GLAE, blood—then the
translation pour is appropriate.29 This is not, in short, a trickle of blood.
The overall treachery of combined anthropophagy and Brudermord finds its accent in the shape
of the narrative, which contains several elements that intensify the repugnance of Cain’s action. First
is the presence of relational terms, which provide an apt contrast to the hideousness of Brudermord.
Eve describes Abel as her son, according to manuscripts ds he al r v; manuscripts ni b qz c m read
our. In either case, Abel is depicted relationally.30 Throughout these initial narrative frames of the
Greek Life, in fact, there exists an emphasis upon kinship understood specifically as sonship. What
renders this emphasis upon sonship so significant is its narrative superfluity. The reader has already
been introduced to the family tree in the first opening scene. After Adam and Eve left paradise, the
couple remained together for eighteen years and two months, at which time Eve became pregnant
“and gave birth to two sons, Cain … and Abel” (GLAE 1:3). Nonetheless, the narrator continues
to adopt relational terms, such as “my son,” “your son,” and “their son.” Eve recounts a dream
in which she saw “the blood of my son, Abel, being poured into the mouth of Cain his brother”
(2:2). After Adam and Eve discover Abel dead, the archangel, Michael, instructs Adam not to tell
Cain, “your son,” the mystery Adam knows because Cain is a “son of wrath” (3:2). Michael then
promises Adam “another son instead of ” Abel (3:2). Nevertheless, Adam and Eve continue to grieve
over “Abel, their son” (3:3). In the subsequent narrative frame, with no apparent lapse of narrative
time, apart from the formulaic waw consecutive, “and after these things,” Adam says to Eve, “Look,
we have produced a son in place of Abel, whom Cain killed” (4:2). This emphasis upon sonship
provides a narrative cradle for a particular emphasis upon the brotherly relationship between Cain
29
Bertrand, La vie grecque, 113, thinks that the gnostic Hypostasis of the Archons 22.4 preserves a similar interpretation, in
which Abel’s blood cries out because Cain sinned with his mouth. It is possible that the sin of Cain’s mouth in the Hypostasis
has to do with swallowing Abel’s blood, but it is hardly the sole explanation. This may refer to his rejoinder to God about
not being his brother’s keeper in Gen 4:9. It may refer to the debate Cain has with Abel, in which Cain denies the reality of
judgment, according to Targums Pseudo-Jonathan and Neofiti. Farther afield, in Psalm 59, the sin of the mouth has to do
with the arrogant words of the nations. The psalmist prays, “For the sin of their mouths, the words of their lips, let them be
trapped in their pride” (Ps 59:12). For Job, the sin of the mouth is cursing one’s enemies. Job claims, “If I have rejoiced at
the ruin of those who hated me, or exulted when evil overtook them—I have not let my mouth sin by asking for their lives
with a curse” (Job 31:29–30). The point of this brief survey is to argue that the Hypostasis, at least with respect to the sin
of the mouth, need not be regarded as opting for the same interpretation of anthropophagy as in GLAE. Aptowitzer (Kain
und Abel, 5; 154, nn. 219, 219a.) identifies a tradition in the Zohar, according to which Cain did not know how he would
kill Abel, so he bit him. This, of course, is a much later tradition, but it is worth noting because it may provide a relatively
close parallel to GLAE.
30
In addition to the weight of various manuscripts to support the reading, her, it seems likely that scribes would have
changed her to the more natural reading, our, in this context.
and Abel.31 This accent is especially evident in the scenes and narrative expressions that have to
do with Brudermord. In the following narrative frame of the Greek Life, Adam and Eve set out to
find their sons. The fraternal relationship between Cain and Abel is once again underscored by the
relational epithet, “his brother,” in an otherwise laconic narrative depiction: “they went and found
Abel murdered by the hand of Cain his brother” (3:1). We are left with no doubt that a measure of
the horror of the first narrated act of human evil, according to the Greek Life, has specifically to do
with Brudermord, which robs the first couple of their son.
The second element that accentuates the horrific dimension of GLAE is the detail that Cain drank
Abel’s blood mercilessly. A cognate of this word occurs in Wis 12:5, in which Israel’s predecessors
in Palestine were the merciless murderers of children, whose entrails they ate in ceremonial feasts.
In GLAE, the word receives an actual embodiment in a primordial figure. In Rom 1:31, the cognate
adjective occurs in a list of vices.
Third, Abel “kept on urging him to let up from it, on his behalf, if but for a moment.” The
occurrence of the imperfect tense παρεκάλει underscores Abel’s insistence and Cain’s resistance.
What Abel begs for is expressed by the verb συγχωρῆσαι, the cognate noun of which occurs later
in GLAE. After the body of Adam is washed in the Acherusian Lake and left to lie for three hours,
God commands the archangel Michael, “Take him up into paradise, as far as the third heaven, and
leave him there until that intensely frightful day of cosmic ordering, which I will accomplish in the
world.” Michael, therefore, “took Adam up and left him where God had said to him and all the
angels were praising with an angelic hymn, marveling at the forgiving [τῇ συγχωρήσει] of Adam”
(GLAE 37:6). This marks the climax of an entire scene, in which a sinful Adam is pardoned. In
the context of Abel’s death, in contrast, the verb may mean little more than “to let up,” to keep
from doing something, but it may connote more, as if Abel had done something to prompt Cain’s
murderous onslaught. Abel, in short, begged Cain for forgiveness. More than this, however, cannot
be said, and I have chosen to translate the verb without the connotation of pardoning.32 That is
how I have taken it here, since Abel seems to be pleading with Cain to relent rather than forgive.
The fourth element that underscores the horror of this scene is straightforward: Cain “would
not listen to him.” Abel’s insistent pleading for respite fell on deaf ears.
In fact, here is the fifth element of this brief scene that underscores its horrific character: “Instead
he drank it whole!” Earlier, GLAE narrated how Cain had drunk (ἔπιεν) Abel’s blood mercilessly.
The simple verb ἔπιεν has now become κατέπιεν, which tends to connote not just drinking (ἔπιεν)
but devouring and destroying. This is the case in the Old Greek, both for καταπίνειν and the Hebrew
verb ‫בלע‬, which it typically translates. For example, the seven scrawny ears of corn swallowed up
the seven good ears in Joseph’s dream (Gen 41:7, 24), the earth swallowed the Egyptians at the
exodus (Exod 15:12), the earth opened to swallow the family of Korah (Num 16:30, 32, 34;
31
This point is made poignantly and pointedly already in the original Hebrew version. In the brief birth scene, it is said that,
after Eve bore Cain, she bore “his brother Abel” (Gen 4:2). The murder scene, too, is punctuated twice by the same phrase,
“his brother Abel” (4:8, 9). When God subsequently raises the specter of Abel’s whereabouts with the words, “Where is
your brother?” Cain retorts, in the infamous words, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” (4:9). These words elicit a further divine
response, “Your brother’s blood is crying out to me from the ground” (4:10). Finally, in divine reprisal, God says, “And now
you are cursed from the ground, which has opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand” (4:11).
32
It occurs in the sense of assent or allow, rather than forgiveness, in its occurrences in the Old Greek, in which a king grants
permission (2 Macc 11:15, 18, 24, 35; Bel 26). See also Josephus, Ant. 11.6.
26:10; see also Deut 11:6), and the psalmist prays, “Do not let a tempest of water overwhelm me or
a deep swallow me up or a cistern close its mouth over me” (LXX Ps 68:16). The image in GLAE is
not about merely Cain’s drinking Abel’s blood but his devouring it, his swallowing it up, his gulping
it down and, consequently, destroying Abel in the process.33
The sixth element underscoring Cain’s treachery is that Abel’s blood “did not remain in his
stomach but came out of his mouth.” In short, Cain vomited Abel’s blood. The biblical underpinning
of this detail may be, “And the Lord said, ‘What have you done? Listen; your brother’s blood is
crying out to me from the ground! And now you are cursed from the ground, which has opened its
mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand’ ” (Gen 4:10–11). GLAE is a far cry from its
Vorlage. Cain’s stomach receives Abel’s blood but—in a strained extension, if an extension at all, of
the earth’s crying out—the blood in GLAE leaves Cain’s stomach.34
The use of the preposition ἐπί, upon, is odd—the blood did not stay “upon the stomach,” but
was vomited. One would expect the preposition in—the blood did not stay in his stomach. In
the Old Greek, the phrase “upon the stomach” occurs frequently to describe the sacrificial fat
surrounding the stomach that is to be burned (e.g., Exod 29:13; Lev 3:3; 8:25; 9:19). This use
of the prepositional phrase undoubtedly bears no relationship to GLAE 2. However, the phrase is
used in Leviticus to describe forbidden food, including any animal that moves “upon [its] stomach”
(11:42). An allusion to Lev 11:42 in GLAE 2, of course, is unlikely. A more likely allusion is to
the curse of the serpent in Gen 3:14: ἐπὶ τῷ στήθει σου καὶ τῇ κοιλίᾳ πορεύσῃ. The phrasing of this
allusion may establish a correlation between Cain’s treachery and the curse of the serpent.
In summary, GLAE preserves what appears to be a unique and considered interpretation of Abel’s
blood, which, in Gen 4:10, cries from the ground. In GLAE, Abel’s blood sinks, not into the ground
but onto Cain’s stomach. Cain then vomits it. The transformation is striking, the metamorphosis
macabre. This is no ordinary murder. This is Brudermord. Nor is this a stoning or sacrificial slicing
of a victim’s neck. This is anthropophagy, pure and simple.
3. CONCLUSION
No single trajectory connects a variety of early Jewish interpretations of the crying out of Abel’s
blood in Gen 4:10. Jubilees preserves the element of blood—Cain had stoned Abel, after all—
but without emphasizing its horror. Philo was especially concerned with how the blood of a
33
Any effort to discover the headwaters of an interpretation is plagued by uncertainty. Still, one possible explanation of the
source of Cain’s drinking down Abel’s blood may lie in Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Gen 4:10, which reads, “What have you
done? The voice of the blood of the killing of your brother, which was swallowed up in red clay, cries out to Me from the
earth.” The Aramaic verb swallowed up, ‫איתבלעו‬, recalls the Hebrew root ‫בלע‬, which is often translated by the verb καταπίνειν
in the Old Greek. Perhaps the swallowing up of Abel’s blood in red clay has been transposed in GLAE to Cain’s swallowing
up of Abel’s blood. This is by no means certain, but it may provide an intermediate step between the Hebrew of Gen 4:10
and GLAE. Translation of Targum Pseudo-Jonathan is from E. Clem, Targum Pseudo-Jonathan (OakTree Software, 2015).
34
The word κοιλία, which I have translated as stomach, actually denotes any cavity in the body. In the Old Greek, it
frequently refers to the womb or uterus (e.g., LXX Gen 25:23; Num 5:21–22; Deut 7:13; 28:4; Judg 13:5; 16:17; and Job
1:21; 38:8), yet the word can be used for men’s bodies as well as the source from which a child or heir comes (e.g., LXX 2
Kgs [MT 2 Sam] 7:12). It can apparently refer to the contents of the stomach or intestines, such as when Joab’s “stomach
poured out upon the earth,” after he was stabbed (LXX 2 Kgs [MT 2 Sam] 20:10). In GLAE, the reference to drinking
makes clear that the cavity being referred to is the portion into which food enters.
dead man could be said to cry out; he answers the question by positing two natures in human
beings, rational and irrational, and locating the crying of blood, which belongs typically to the
vital or irrational portion of a human being, in the sphere of the rational. Josephus evinced far
less interest in Gen 4:10, from which he excised blood altogether. Later rabbinic authors of the
Mishnah and Bereshith Rabbah, as well as the authors of Targum Onqelos and Targum Neofiti,
found themselves preoccupied with the plural bloods, rather than blood, in Gen 4:10, from
which they spun various interpretations, most notably, that Abel’s seed or progeny died when he
died. Cain had murdered not just a brother but an entire race of potentially righteous people.
The author of the early lines in the Greek Life of Adam and Eve shows no less interest in Gen
4:10, which became, in his or her purview, a revolting example of primeval Brudermord and
anthropophagy.
Other ancient authors referred to the Cain and Abel tragedy, though with less intensity of
detail. Wis 10:3 brushes lightly against the story with the summary, “but when an unrighteous man
departed from her in his anger, he perished because in rage he killed his brother.” Surprisingly,
perhaps, Cain is the cause of the flood in the Wisdom of Solomon: “When the earth was flooded
because of him, wisdom again saved it, steering the righteous man by a paltry piece of wood” (Wis
10:3-4).
The mother of seven martyred sons recounts how their father, “while he was still with you, he
taught you the law and the prophets. He read to you about Abel slain by Cain, and Isaac who was
offered as a burnt offering, and about Joseph in prison” (4 Macc 18:10–11).
The author of the slender letter, Jude, portrays those who have snuck in to mislead the church
as “grumblers and malcontents,” who “indulge their own lusts” and are “bombastic in speech,
flattering people to their own advantage” (Jude 16). They have snuck in presumably through some
form of slander or blasphemy (9–10). These agitators the author compares to the watchers of
Gen 6:1–4 (Jude 6), the people of Sodom and Gomorrah (7–8), and, finally, to Cain, Balaam, and
Korah, who led a rebellion against Moses (Num 16). His letter crescendos,
Woe to them! For they go the way of Cain, and abandon themselves to Balaam’s error for the
sake of gain, and perish in Korah’s rebellion. These are blemishes on your love-feasts, while they
feast with you without fear, feeding themselves. They are waterless clouds carried along by the
winds; autumn trees without fruit, twice dead, uprooted; wild waves of the sea, casting up the
foam of their own shame; wandering stars, for whom the deepest darkness has been reserved
forever. (11–13)
There is little in this letter to identify precisely what is meant by “the way of Cain,” given the
sweeping invectives it contains.
In 1 John 3:12, the pastor urges those who have not left the church, “We must not be like Cain
who was from the evil one and murdered his brother. And why did he murder him? Because his
own deeds were evil and his brother’s righteous.” There is precious little here that defines how or
why Cain killed Abel, other than the patent observation that his deeds were evil and his brother’s
good. The pastor goes on to characterize all who hate as ἀνθρωποκτόνοι: “All who hate a brother
or sister are murderers, and you know that murderers do not have eternal life abiding in them” (1
John 3:15).
Abel—though not Cain—appears in three further New Testament texts, two of them representing
the same saying of Jesus. In his critique of the Pharisees, Jesus says,
Therefore I send you prophets, sages, and scribes, some of whom you will kill and crucify, and
some you will flog in your synagogues and pursue from town to town, so that upon you may
come all the righteous blood shed on earth, from the blood of righteous Abel to the blood of
Zechariah son of Barachiah, whom you murdered between the sanctuary and the altar. (Matt
23:34–35)
This indictment covers the entire sweep of Israelite history, from its first so-called martyr, Abel,
to its last, Zechariah—from Genesis 4 to 2 Chronicles 24.35
Finally, two references in the letter to the Hebrews appear to allude to Gen 4:10. In his or
her litany of Israel’s heroes, the author begins with Abel: “By faith Abel offered to God a more
acceptable sacrifice than Cain’s. Through this he received approval as righteous, God himself giving
approval to his gifts; he died, but through his faith he still speaks.” The author claims that Abel
still speaks, not through the crying out of his blood from the ground but through faith, though the
notion that Abel still speaks certainly suggests rather evocatively that Abel, like his blood from the
ground, speaks even after his death (Heb 11:4). This is so, it would seem, in light of Heb 12:24,
in which the author refers to Jesus as “the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood
that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.” Once again, lying in the background of this
ancient text is the story of Abel, whose blood cried out from the ground after his death. Yet the
preacher offers precious little insight except to say that Jesus’ sprinkled blood speaks a better word
than Abel’s blood.
For that elusive insight none of the New Testament texts or the brief glimpses in the Wisdom
of Solomon or 4 Maccabees will do. To gain a richer vision of a treacherous Cain and an innocent
Abel, to garner a more nuanced portrait of the world’s first homicide, to gather insight into
primeval murder and martyrdom, the attentive gaze of an array of early Jewish interpreters proves
indispensable.
4. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Aptowitzer, Victor. Kain Und Abel in Der Agada, Den Apokryphen, Der Hellenistischen, Christlichen Und
Muhammedanischen Literature. Wien: R. Löwit, 1922.
Bertrand, Daniel A. La Vie Grecque d’Adam et Ève: Introduction, Texte, Traduction et Commentaire.
Paris: Maisonneuve, 1987.
Byron, John. “Cain and Abel in Second Temple Literature and Beyond.” Pages 331–51 in The Book of
Genesis: Composition, Reception, and Interpretation. Edited by Craig A. Evans, Joel N. Lohr, and David L.
Petersen. VTSup 152. Leiden: Brill, 2012.
Byron, John. Cain and Abel in Text and Tradition: Jewish and Christian Interpretations of the First Sibling
Rivalry. TBN 14. Leiden: Brill, 2011.
Byron, John. “Slaughter, Fratricide and Sacrilege: Cain and Abel Traditions in 1 John 3.” Biblica 88.4
(2007): 526–35.
Dochhorn, Jan. Die Apokalypse Des Mose: Text, Übersetzung, Kommentar. TSAJ 106. Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 2005.
35
Zechariah in 2 Chr 24:20–21 is said to be the son of Jehoida rather than Barachiah, though, either way, it makes good
sense for him to be the prophet to whom Jesus refers, as he is the last one mentioned in the Jewish scriptures, and he is
stoned in the temple precincts. Luke 11:51 contains a version of the same saying without the reference to Barachiah.
Grypeou, Emmanouela, and Helen Spurling. The Book of Genesis in Late Antiquity: Encounters between
Jewish and Christian Exegesis. JCP 24. Boston, MA: Brill, 2013.
Johnson, M. D. “Life of Adam and Eve.” Pages 249–96 in Expansions of the “Old Testament” and Legends,
Wisdom and Philosophical Literature, Prayers Psalms, and Odes, Fragments of Lost Judaeo-Hellenistic
Works. Vol. 2 of The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha. Edited by James H. Charlesworth. Garden City,
NY: Doubleday, 1985.
Levison, John R. “Adam and Eve in Romans 1.18–25 and the Greek ‘Life of Adam and Eve’.” New Testament
Studies 50.4 (2004): 519–34.
Lieu, Judith M. “What Was from the Beginning: Scripture and Tradition in the Johannine Epistles 1.” New
Testament Studies 39.3 (1993): 458–77.
Lohr, Joel N. “Righteous Abel, Wicked Cain: Genesis 4:1–16 in the Masoretic Text, the Septuagint, and the
New Testament.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 71.3 (2009): 485–96.
Meiser, Martin, and Otto Merk. Das Leben Adams Und Evas. Vol. II of JSHRZ. Gütersloh: Gütersloher
Verlag, 2005.
Neusner, Jacob, ed. The Mishnah: A New Translation. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1988.
Nickelsburg, George W. E. 1 Enoch 1: A Commentary on the Book of 1 Enoch. Edited by Kaus Baltzer.
Hermeneia. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2001.
Stone, Michael E. A History of the Literature of Adam and Eve. SBLEJL 3. Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1992.
Thatcher, Tom. “Cain and Abel in Early Christian Memory: A Case Study in ‘The Use of the Old Testament in
the New’.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 72.4 (2010): 732–51.
Tromp, Johannes, ed. The Life of Adam and Eve in Greek: A Critical Edition. Pseudepigrapha Veteris Testamenti
Graece 6. Leiden: Brill, 2005.
VanderKam, James C. Jubilees: A Commentary on the Book of Jubilees. Edited by Sidnie White Crawford.
CHAPTER TWO
Abraham et l’abrahamisme:
Mythe ou réalité?
SIMON C. MIMOUNI
La figure d’Abraham est celle des prosélytes dans le judaïsme synagogal et dans le mouvement
chrétien, mais pas, du moins à ses débuts, dans le mouvement rabbinique. Cela semble expliquer
son utilisation interprétative dans le Targum Neofiti, relevant du judaïsme synagogal, et chez Paul
de Tarse, appartenant au mouvement chrétien.
On développe ici de manière succincte une problématique portant exclusivement sur cette figure
dans le judaïsme synagogal et dans le mouvement chrétien,1 non sans rapport avec le prosélytisme
judéen dont l’existence dans l’Antiquité gréco-romaine est supposée contrairement à l’avis de
certains critiques.2
En revanche, il ne va pas être question ici de la figure d’Abraham dans la mouvement rabbinique.3
Signalons cependant qu’on rencontre aussi cette éminente figure dans la littérature rabbinique,
mais seulement pour celle originaire de Babylonie, apparemment jamais pour celle originaire de
Palestine: en effet, la doctrine selon laquelle Abraham a été le premier des prosélytes paraît avoir
été formulée pour la première fois par Raba, un sage amoraïte du IVe siècle (voir TB Hagigah 3a
et TB Souccah 49b) – ce qui ne signifie pas pour autant que cette figure ne soit pas originaire de
Palestine, pour ensuite migrer en Babylonie.
On donne aussi dans un préliminaire quelques points de repère de la figure d’Abraham dans le
judaïsme en général.
Partant de la figure d’Abraham, comme prototype emblématique des prosélytes, a été créée, pour
diverses raisons idéologiques, par la recherche moderne un phénomène religieux que l’on appelle
“abrahamisme”: on examine aussi cette question extrêmement controversée dans un excursus.
D’emblée, observons que la figure d’Abraham n’est pas nécessairement, comme on le pense
souvent, d’origine judéenne, raison pour laquelle sans doute c’est la figure par excellence qui
représente symboliquement celui qui devient judéen. Cette figure semblerait provenir du Sud de
la Palestine et du Nord de l’Arabie, et ne serait arrivée que tardivement à Jérusalem – pas avant la
période perse ou la période grecque.4
1
Pour une première approche, voir R. Hayward, “Abraham as Proselytiser,” JJS 49 (1998): 24–37.
2
Voir par exemple E. Will et C. Orrieux, “Prosélytisme juif ”? Histoire d’une erreur (Paris, 1992).
3
À ce sujet, voir M. Lavee, “Converting the Missionary Image of Abraham: Rabbinic Traditions Migrating from the Land of
Israël to Babylon,” dans M. Goodman, G. H. van Kooten, et J. T. A. G. M. van Ruiten, éd., Abraham, the Nations, dans the
Hagarites. Jewish, Christian, and Islamic Perspectives on Kingship with Abraham (Leyde/Boston, 2010), 201–22.
4
À ce sujet, voir S. C. Mimouni, La circoncision dans le monde judéen aux époques grecque et romaine. Histoire d’un conflit
interne au judaïsme (Paris/Louvain, 2007), 13–45.
Albert de Pury, dans une ligne de pensée assez similaire, estime qu’Abraham a probablement
été “une figure à la fois folklorique et tutélaire, sorte de genius loci d’Hébron” que les populations
fréquentant le sanctuaire et le marché d’Hébron connaissent par les traditions orales de ce lieu.5
C’est ainsi que les récits aux sources du texte du Livre de la Genèse en ont ensuite fait l’ancêtre des
Judéens (par Isaac) et des Arabes (par Ismaël).
1. PRÉLIMINAIRE: LA FIGURE D’ABRAHAM DANS LE

JUDAÏSME EN GÉNÉRAL
L’introduction des traditions abrahamiques est attribuée par les biblistes à l’école deutéronomiste
qui pourrait dater selon la plupart d’entre eux de l’époque perse.6 La question est discutée et il
semblerait que la récupération de ces traditions ne soient pas antérieures à l’époque hasmonéenne.
On attribue à Abraham l’introduction de la circoncision dans le culte judéen, laquelle est mise en
relation avec l’abandon des idoles pour une divinité unique: autrement dit, pour le dieu Yahweh.
Cependant, dans la Bible judéenne, rien n’est dit des raisons pour lesquelles Abraham a rejeté les
idoles pour servir la divinité unique, ni pourquoi cette décision (alliance) est marquée (scellée) par
la circoncision.
Dans le Livre des Jubilés, qui date du milieu du IIe siècle avant notre ère, il est précisé, en Jub.
11:4–17 et en 12:1–14, qu’Abraham a adhéré à la divinité unique par raisonnement, après avoir
compris avec l’expérience l’inanité des idoles qui se laissent détruire sans se défendre.
On retrouve cette même idée dans l’Apocalypse d’Abraham (ou Testament d’Abraham), qui
date de la fin du Ier siècle de notre ère (du moins pour sa première partie), où, en I-VI, Abraham,
fabricant d’idoles, est pris de doutes intérieurs, et devient alors destructeur de ces mêmes
idoles.
Dans les L.A.B. (Liber antiquitatum biblicarum) du Pseudo-Philon, qui datent du Ier siècle de notre
ère, Abraham reçoit gratuitement en récompense du dieu d’Israël aux termes de la promesse ce que
ses contemporains idolâtres veulent conquérir sur la divinité.7 Pour l’auteur de ce commentaire de
la Genèse, le contraste entre Abraham et les idolâtres se manifeste essentiellement de deux points
de vue: (1) la migration, suivant l’échec de la Tour de Babel, qui est le début de l’élection pour
Abraham et les siens, et une dispersion pour les autres (L.A.B. 7:4–5; 32:1); (2) Abraham, refusant
de fuir le jugement par le feu que ses adversaires lui préparent, en appelle au jugement divin qui le
fait échapper à la fournaise, contrairement au sort attendant les idolâtres. Le contraste se manifeste
aussi, dans cette perspective, par un mélange de ressemblances et de différences, il concerne encore
le culte des astres, les sacrifices d’enfants, les pierres inscrites, la construction de la tour et de la
cité. Bref, dans les L.A.B., l’opposition entre Abraham et les idolâtres correspond à celle entre les
prosélytes dont Abraham est la figure emblématique et les idolâtres, entre ceux qui quittent les
idoles et ceux qui les conservent.
5
A. de Pury, “Genèse 12-36.” dans T. Römer et C. Nihan, éd., Introduction à l’Ancien Testament (Genève, 2009), 232–34.
6
Voir l’ouvrage récent de M. Warner, Re-Imagining Abraham. A Re-Assessment of the Influence of Deuteronomism in Genesis
(Leyde-Boston, 2018).
7
À ce sujet, voir P.-M. Bogaert, “La figure d’Abraham dans les Antiquités bibliques du Pseudo-Philon,” dans P.-M. Bogaert,
éd., Abraham dans la Bible et dans la tradition juive (Bruxelles, 1977), 40–61.
Abraham et l’abrahamisme: Mythe ou réalité? 17
Philon et Josèphe commentent cette prise de conscience avec certaines subtilités d’ordre
philosophique qu’ils essaient d’appliquer à la figure d’Abraham. Leurs discours paraissent s’adresser
présentement à des Gréco-Romains.8
Philon, originaire de la Diaspora, pense, de manière intéressante, qu’Abraham n’a été le disciple
de personne et n’a donc pas eu besoin d’observer la Loi de Moïse, étant lui-même la loi vivante
(Abr. 69) et qu’il a été celui qui, remontant les degrés de l’échelle des êtres, est parvenu au niveau
du créateur les dominant tous parce qu’il les a tous créés (Virt 2.212–215).9
Josèphe, originaire de la Palestine, estime qu’Abraham, à l’instar du fondateur d’une école
philosophique, ayant fui la Chaldée en raison de l’opposition à ses idées sur la divinité unique (Ant.
7.157 et 281), est descendu chez les Égyptiens pour écouter ce que leurs prêtres disent des dieux
et, n’apprenant rien de nouveau (Ant. 7.161–162), c’est lui qui a entrepris de leur enseigner en
revanche l’arithmétique et l’astronomie (Ant. 7.167).10
Josèphe a introduit l’idée selon laquelle la philosophie grecque comme la connaissance reflétée
par la Bible ont l’une et l’autre pour origine un savoir acquis par Abraham au temps où il a séjourné
en Égypte. Cette idée, souvent désignée sous le nom de translatio studiorum (ou transfert des
études),11 a été transmise aux auteurs médiévaux non seulement par les textes de Flavius Josèphe,
mais aussi par ceux d’Isidore de Séville, qui a considéré, pour sa part, que le latin, le grec et l’hébreu
ont la même origine puisque ces langues sont censées émanées d’Abraham.
Observons aussi que dans la Bible judéenne (notamment en Gen 14 et en Ps 110) mais aussi
ensuite, la figure d’Abraham est associée à celle de Melchisédech tant dans le judaïsme que dans le
christianisme.12 La figure de Melchisédech tout comme celle d’Abraham se retrouve dans l’islam,
vraisemblablement au contact du christianisme de langue syriaque.13
Il est aussi question de la figure d’Abraham, comme d’ailleurs aussi de celle de Melchisédech,
dans les manuscrits découverts près du Khirbet Qumrân.14
Bref, au Ier siècle de notre ère, Abraham, figure complexe, est compris d’une part, comme
le premier à avoir cru en une divinité unique, d’autre part, comme le premier à obéir à la Loi
avant que Moïse ne la donne à Israël.15 Il s’agit d’un indice important qui pourrait signifier une
8
A. Y. Reed, “The Construction and Subversion of Patriarchal Perfection: Abraham and Exemplarity in Philo, Josephus, and
the Testament of Abraham,” JSJ 40 (2009): 185–212.
9
S. Sandmel, “Philo’s Place in Judaism: A Study of Conceptions of Abraham in Jewish Literature II,” HUCA 26 (1955): 151–
332, spécialement 197–98.
10
L. H. Feldman, “Abraham the Greek Philosopher in Josephus,” TAPhA 99 (1968): 143–56.
11
Il s’agit du fameux phénomène du déplacement de la connaissance des textes grecs de l’Antiquité [particulièrement la
philosophie] du monde grec vers le Proche-Orient perse et syriaque, puis arabe oriental [Bagdad], enfin arabe occidental
[Cordoue, Tolède], jusqu’à la renaissance intellectuelle du XIIe siècle qui marque sa redécouverte par l’Europe latine – il
s’agit d’un long phénomène de déplacements successifs des textes (principalement ceux de Platon et d’Aristote) et des
centres d’études, occupant tout le Moyen Âge sur près de six siècles [de 529 avec la fermeture de l’école philosophique
d’Athènes à 1100 avec la renaissance du XIIe siècle et l’apparition des écoles de dialectique aristotélicienne à Paris].
12
G. Granerod, Abraham dans Melchizedek Scribal Activity of Second Temple Times in Genesis 14 and Psalm 110
(Berlin, 2010).
13
J. M. F. Van Reeth, “Melchisédech le Prophète éternel selon Jean d’Apamée et le monarchianisme musulman,” Oriens
Christianus 96 (2012): 8–46.
14
C. A. Craig, “Abraham in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” dans P. W. Flint, éd., The Bible at Qumrân (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,
2001), 149–58.
15
Reed, “Construction and Subversion.”
préséance d’Abraham sur la Loi de Moïse et orienter vers un judaïsme plutôt synagogal et non pas
rabbinique.16
On va maintenant examiner deux questions spécifiques en relation avec le prosélytisme: celle
d’Abraham dans le Targum qui relève du judaïsme synagogal et celle d’Abraham chez Paul qui
appartient au mouvement chrétien.
2. ABRAHAM DANS LE TARGUM

Abraham tient une place importante dans le Targum qui est, comme on le sait, un commentaire
paraphrastique de la Bible, notamment dans le Neofiti, l’un des plus anciens connus (de la fin du Ier
siècle ou du début du IIe siècle).17
Il convient, en effet, de préciser que ce Targum paraît, selon toute probabilité, antérieur à la
Mishnah, car il propose une Halakhah relativement différente, comme le montrent quelques rares
études sur la question.18 De fait, Targum et Mishnah pourraient bien renvoyer à deux traditions
différentes et relativement opposées, la synagogale et la rabbinique, qui ne sont pas à percevoir dans
un rapport diachronique, mais dans un rapport synchronique.
Le Targum Neofiti reflèterait une tradition synagogale en accord avec une autre tradition que
l’on trouve dans la Bible judéenne de langue hébraïque.
Il va être question ici du sens de ‫ גר‬et de ‫ גור‬dans le Targum19 afin de montrer qu’il est plus
proche de celui de la Bible que de celui de la Mishnah.20 Disons déjà que dans la Bible et dans le
Targum cette terminologie renvoie au sens d’“étranger” par rapport à la terre alors que dans la
Mishnah elle renvoie au sens de “proselyte” par rapport au peuple – dans la Bible et le Targum, elle
suppose la possession de la terre, dans la Mishnah, ce n’est pas le cas: autrement dit, le ‫ גר‬n’adhère
apparemment pas à une terre, mais à un peuple.21
Dans la Bible, il y a un rapport qui est établi entre deux catégories de personnes: celle du ‫גר‬
(ger) et celle du ‫( אזרח‬ezraḥ) – le premier terme peut être traduit par “étranger” et le second par
“indigene,” des traductions qui ne sont pas sans poser de problèmes, car elles ne donnent pas
nécessairement un sens précis.
Il s’agit d’une question importante, car elle touche à la situation de la Palestine après le retour
de la déportation en Babylonie à l’époque perse. Deux groupes de Judéens sont présents en
Palestine: ceux qui sont restés au pays et ceux qui ont été déportés et sont revenus. On peut alors
se demander si, dans les textes bibliques où il en est fait mention, les premiers ne sont pas qualifiés
d’‫ אזרחים‬et les second de ‫גרים‬.
16
À ce sujet, voir S. C. Mimouni, “Le ‘judaïsme sacerdotal et synagogal’ en Palestine et en Diaspora entre le IIe et le
VIe siècle: propositions pour un nouveau concept,” Comptes rendus de l’Académie des Inscriptions & Belles-Lettres 159
(2015): 113–47.
17
Pour une datation ancienne de ce targum, voir G. Boccaccini, “Targum Neofiti as a Proto-Rabbinic Document: A Systemic
Analysis,” dans D. R. G. Beattie et M. McNamara, éd., The Aramaic Bible: Targums in Their Historical Context (Sheffield,
1994), 260–69.
18
M. Ohana, “Agneau pascal et circoncision: le problème de la Halakha prémishnaïque dans le Targum palestinien,” VT 23
(1973): 385–99.
19
Cette étude complète et développe celle publiée dans Mimouni, La circoncision dans le monde judéen, 353–58.
20
M. Ohana, “Prosélytisme et targum palestinien: données nouvelles pour la datation de Néofiti 1,” Biblica 55 (1974): 317–32.
21
À ce sujet, voir A. Diez-Macho, El Targum (Barcelone, 1972), 54–60.
En Ezra 1:4, le ‫ גר‬est le Judéen déporté qui vit en Babylonie et souhaite revenir dans son pays
d’origine.
Pour ‫אזרח‬, c’est plus compliqué, mais sa présence dans le Ps 37:35 en parallèle avec ‫( רע‬ra`), qui
signifie “méchant,” montre qu’il s’agit aussi de Judéens comme l’a montré Henri Cazelles.22
Ces deux termes apparaissent ensemble en Exod 12:19 et en Num 9:14, et aussi de nombreuses
fois ailleurs. Ces deux péricopes appartiennent à un ensemble législatif ayant pour but d’unifier le
statut de deux catégories de personnes composant l’assemblée du peuple d’Israël, en même temps
que d’établir des droits et devoirs de Judéens de la Diaspora, que les Judéens de la Palestine doivent
traiter comme des compatriotes (Lev 19:34). Le passage de Num 9:14 montre que les ‫ גרים‬et les
‫ אזרחים‬ont un droit égal à la terre d’Israël et Exod 12:19 indique qu’ils participent à la même alliance.
À partir du “papyrus pascal” d’Éléphantine, qui est de 419 avant notre ère, Pierre Grelot a
montré que Exod 12:19 et Num 9:14 sont deux textes postérieurs à cette date.23
Il a été question d’Henri Cazelles et de Pierre Grelot, deux grands exégètes français, mais il n’a
pas été question de retenir leurs hypothèses trop conditionnées par les théories historico-critiques
de leur époque et notamment le document “P” et le Code Sacerdotal: le premier voyant dans les
‫ גרים‬des Judéens de retour de la déportation babylonienne et dans les ‫ אזרחים‬des Samaritains ; le
second estimant que les ‫ אזרחים‬représenteraient aussi bien des rapatriés judéens que les “gens du
pays” de vieille souche tandis que les ‫ גרים‬renverraient à des pèlerins judéens se rendant à Jérusalem
pour participer aux festivités religieuses.
Le Targum Neofiti est le seul à reprendre le sens du terme ‫( גר‬ger) de la Bible, contrairement
aux autres targumim (notamment Onqelos ou Jonathan) qui suivent plutôt celui de la Mishnah
et du Midrash. Autrement dit, dans le Targum Neofiti, l’hébreu ‫( גר‬ger) est traduit par l’araméen
‫( גיורא‬gywr’) (pour le substantif) et l’hébreu ‫( גור‬gwr) par l’araméen ‫( יתגייר‬ytgyyr) (pour le verbe).
Comme dans la Bible, dans le Targum Neofiti, il doit prendre le sens d’“étranger ” et non celui de
“proselyte” comme c’est le cas dans la Mishnah, le Midrash et les autres targumim.
La notion de ‫( גר תושב‬ger tošab) est absente du Targum Neofiti. Dans la Mishnah et le Midrash,
ce terme désigne l’étranger résidant au sein du peuple judéen en Palestine – à la différence du
‫( גר צדק‬ger ṣedeq), le ‫( גר תושב‬ger tošab) ne s’est pas converti, mais a seulement accepté d’observer
les lois noachiques permettant la convivialité entre lui et les Judéens.24 Les targumim, à l’exception
du Neofiti, traduisent le ‫( גר תושב‬ger tošab) comme étant celui qui est resté incirconcis, appelé
aussi ‫( גר ארל‬ger àrel). Le Targum Neofiti ne semble donc pas connaître de distinction entre
les différentes catégories d’étrangers résidant au sein du peuple judéen, sans faire mention pour
autant d’incirconcision.
Le Targum Neofiti, sur ce point mais aussi sur bien d’autres, renvoie à une tradition différente de
celle figurant dans la Mishnah. On peut la qualifier de pré-mishnaïque comme le fait Moïse Ohana,
mais on peut aussi l’identifier comme synagogale, d’autant que les targumim ont été composés pour
servir à la lecture dans les lieux de culte pour des Judéens ne sachant plus l’hébreu, car parlant
désormais l’araméen – ce qui n’est pas le cas des rabbins, qui eux ont continué l’usage de l’hébreu.
22
H. Cazelles, “La mission d’Esdras ,” VT 4 (1954): 113–40, spécialement 128–29.
23
P. Grelot, “La dernière étape de la rédaction sacerdotale,” VT 6 (1956): 174–89.
24
Au sujet des lois noachiques, voir S. C. Mimouni, “Le conflit inter-judéen (halakhique) entre Paul, Jacques et Pierre dans
la réception des Actes des Apôtres,” Judaïsme ancien / Ancient Judaism 7 (2019): 153–86.
Dans la Bible comme dans le Targum Neofiti (c’est aussi le cas dans le Targum Jonathan),
Abraham est un ‫( גר תושב‬ger tošab), c’est-à-dire un étranger résidant parmi les Judéens (voir Gen
23:4).
Dans le Targum Neofiti sur Gen 24:3, Abraham fait jurer son serviteur en l’obligeant de mettre
sa main sous sa cuisse, alors que dans le Targum Jonathan sur Gen 24:3, il est fait mention de la
coupure de la circoncision du patriarche.
La thématique de la « descendance d’Abraham » a permis de donner une certaine légitimité à
ceux qui sont considérés comme des ‫( גרים‬gerim) sur le territoire qu’ils occupent.
La figure d’Abraham est celle par excellence de celui qui devient judéen. Le personnage a une
fonction médiatrice en fonction de tous les étrangers au peuple judéen.
Dans le cas du ‫גר‬, le Targum Neofiti est le témoin d’une différence de perception entre ceux qui
font reposer leur Halakhah sur la Bible et ceux qui la font reposer aussi sur la Mishnah. En partant
de ce cas, on peut estimer que le Targum Neofiti pourrait être issu du judaïsme synagogal se fondant
sur la Bible et non pas du mouvement rabbinique se fondant aussi sur la Mishnah.
Les targumim reflètent des traditions de communautés particulières, ceci étant dit ils ne sont pas
si faciles à contextualiser historiquement.
3. ABRAHAM CHEZ PAUL

Dans le Nouveau Testament, Abraham est nommé 73 fois contre 80 pour Moïse et 59 pour David.
Abraham est une figure majeure dans le mouvement chrétien qui la reprend abondamment avec des
fonctions relativement diverses.25
Paul de Tarse, pour sa part, consacre deux longs développements dans lesquels il fait intervenir la
figure d’Abraham: l’un dans l’Épître aux Galates, l’autre dans l’Épître aux Romains. L’un et l’autre
s’appuient sur Gen 15:6 (“Il crut en Yahweh qui le considéra comme juste”).
Abraham tient donc une place importante dans les argumentations de Paul, surtout quand il
s’agit de l’intégration des non Judéens dans les communautés chrétiennes26 – autrement exprimé,
l’intégration des prosélytes sans soumission totale aux observances de la Loi de Moïse et notamment
la circoncision et les pratiques alimentaires.
3.1. Gal 3:6–29

C’est le cas dans les argumentations de Paul en faveur de la justification moyennant la croyance que
l’on trouve en Gal 3:6–29.27 Dans cette péricope, il sollicite Abraham comme preuve scripturaire,
pour aboutir à la conclusion qui fait des chrétiens, quelle que soit leur appartenance ethnique, la
descendance du patriarche – ce qui peut paraître contraire aux règles de l’appartenance ethnique
en cours à son époque, sauf si on les envisage d’un point de vue spirituel.
25
M. Quesnel, “Visages d’Abraham dans le Nouveau Testament,” Le Monde de la Bible 140 (2002): 32–36.
26
J. Lambrecht, “ ‘Abraham notre Père à tous.’ La figure d’Abraham dans les écrits pauliniens,” dans P.M. Bogaert, éd.,
Abraham dans la Bible et dans la tradition juive (Bruxelles, 1977), 118–59.
27
A. Gignac, “L’interprétation du récit d’Abraham en Galates 3, 6-4, 7, tour de force ou coup de force? Le travail narratif du
lecteur face à l’énonciation et é l’intertextualité pauliniennes,” dans R. Burnet, D. Luciani, et G. Van Oyen, éd., Le lecteur.
VIe Colloque international du RRENAB, Louvain-la-Neuve, 24-26 mai 2012 (Leuven, 2014), 309–30.
Paul ne retient aucun des deux aspects de la figure d’Abraham qui circulent à son époque, mais
en proposent deux autres qui sont connexes.
Le premier consiste à voir en Abraham la preuve que la divinité unique justifie l’homme en raison
de sa croyance, à l’exclusion de l’observance de la Loi de Moïse.
Le second consiste à voir que les chrétiens, à cause de leur croyance en la divinité unique qui
justifie et sauve dans le Messie Jésus, représentent la seule authentique descendance du patriarche.
Ces deux aspects sont exploités dans l’argumentation de Gal 4:21–31, où Paul, pour souligner
la liberté de la nouvelle descendance d’Abraham à l’égard de la Torah utilise l’épisode biblique
qui met en scène Sara, l’épouse “libre,” la Judéenne, et Agar, l’“esclave,” l’Égyptienne, ainsi que
leur descendance respective, Isaac et Ismaël – les deux descendances symbolisant l’ensemble des
chrétiens, les Judéens comme les Grecs.28
Mais c’est en Gal 3:6–29 que l’argumentation paulinienne faisant appel à Abraham entre vraiment
en action pour déterminer le rapport entre le Messie et la Torah (entre la foi et la loi) et son lien avec
les promesses pour les temps à venir. Paul dans sa longue argumentation montre à ses interlocuteurs
qu’il est inutile, voire coupable, de se laisser convaincre par les propagandistes judéens, peut-être
de la tendance se rattachant à Jacques le Justes, qui veulent soumettre les chrétiens galates d’origine
non judéenne aux observances judéennes et, en premier lieu, la circoncision. Pour ce faire, dans
sa démonstration, il fait appel à Abraham qui est la figure emblématique de la circoncision, mais
aussi celui qui a cru avant la Loi de Moïse, donc avant la mise en place de cette dernière avec ses
prescriptions.
Pour Jan Lambrecht, Paul a acquis sur le chemin de Damas la conviction que la divinité unique
justifie l’homme dans le Messie en dehors de la Torah, et que tout homme qui croit appartient
à la postérité d’Abraham. Aussi, selon ce critique, Paul s’est construit d’Abraham une image qui
lui est personnelle et qui lui permet de déterminer son herméneutique avec des règles spécifiques
d’interprétation.29
3.2. Rom 4:1–16

C’est le cas aussi en Rom 4:1–16, où Paul considère que, nonobstant la circoncision, le dieu d’Israël
a justifié Abraham sans l’observance préalable de la Torah: Abraham a cru en la divinité et cela lui
a été compté comme justice, bien avant d’être circoncis.30
Pour Paul, la figure d’Abraham est assez différente de celle des Judéens de la Palestine,
notamment en fonction de ces trois notions que sont la promesse, la croyance et la descendance.
Sa vision d’Abraham a dû sans doute scandaliser les Judéens de Palestine, peut-être pas tous ceux
de Diaspora: les œuvres sont absentes et le patriarche est reconnu comme le père des chrétiens
d’origine grecque, mais aussi des chrétiens d’origine judéenne.
Paul justifie l’incirconcision des chrétiens d’origine grecque en considérant que ce rite n’est
pas imposé à tous les prosélytes au judaïsme, pour ce faire il renvoie souvent à Abraham dont la
28
É. Cothenet, “À l’arrière-plan de l’allégorie d’Agar et de Sara (Ga 4, 21-31),” dans De la Torah au Messie. Études d’exégèse
et d’herméneutique bibliques offertes à Henri Cazelles pour ses 25 années d’enseignement à l’Institut catholique de Paris
(octobre 1979) (Paris, 1981), 457–65; et G. Wagner, “Les enfants d’Abraham ou les chemins de la promesse et de la liberté.
Exégèse de Galates 4, 21-21,” RHPR 71 (1991): 285–95.
29
Lambrecht, “ ‘Abraham notre Père à tous’,” 140–41.
30
À ce sujet, voir Mimouni, La circoncision dans le monde, 237–41.
circoncision a été tardive. Ce n’est pas l’observance de la Loi qui a fait de lui un croyant, mais c’est
la croyance qui a fait de lui un observant de la Loi.
3.3. Récapitulatif
Dans Galates comme dans Romains, Paul tient compte de l’enchaînement chronologique des
évènements: la Loi est venue après la promesse; la justice est déclarée avant que ne soit prescrite
la circoncision. Premières dans le temps, la promesse et la justice, toutes deux nées de la “foi,”
commandent les autres moments de l’économie du salut.
Au IIe siècle avant notre ère, Abraham est considéré comme un modèle de justice qui lui est
comptée parce qu’il a été fidèle dans l’épreuve (1 Macc 2:51–52). L’épreuve en question est la scène
d’Abraham sacrifiant, autrement dit la ligature (aqedah) d’Isaac rapportée en Gen 22. Une tradition
qui est reprise dans l’Épître de Jacques (Jas 3:21–23) et dans l’Épître aux Hébreux (Heb 11:17), des
œuvres d’avant 70 de notre ère et non pas d’après comme on le pense souvent, dont les auteurs
estiment que si Abraham a été justifié c’est par ses œuvres (l’aqedah d’Isaac) et non par sa “foi” –
comme le pense Paul.
Ces deux exégèses semblent renvoyer à la Palestine pour la première et à la Diaspora pour la
seconde – ce serait une hypothèse à explorer plus avant.
Ajoutons, comme on le va le voir plus loin, que la figure d’Abraham est perçue de manière
positive dans les milieux intellectuels gréco-romains, notamment dans les milieux philosophiques.
On comprend donc pourquoi Paul la reprend dans son argumentation pour le ralliement des Gréco-
Romains au mouvement chrétien, d’autant qu’elle semble déjà avoir été utilisée dans la Diaspora
romaine pour la diffusion des idées judéennes parmi ces mêmes Gréco-Romains devenant alors
sympathisants à défaut de prosélytes.
4. CONCLUSION
Les traditions autour de la figure d’Abraham paraissent pouvoir illustrer la conduite à tenir envers
les prosélytes, de par son rôle fédérateur.31
Comme le rapporte Gen. Rab. 48:8–9 sur Gen 18:1, un texte difficile à contextualiser mais
vraisemblablement du Ve ou du VIe siècle, Abraham est celui qui accueille les étrangers avec largesse,
celui qui ouvre des portes sur les deux côtés de sa tente – autrement dit, il pratique l’hospitalité à
l’égard de tous, Judéens ou non.
La figure d’Abraham récapitule symboliquement les termes des rapports entre les prosélytes et
les Judéens, elle devient même le prototype du prédicateur en mission chez les non Judéens.
Abraham est diversement utilisé par les traditions judéennes. Sa figure, interprétée différemment,
permet de construire un rapport à la Loi et à son observance qui est fonction des pratiques pouvant
varier d’un groupe à un autre.
Si Abraham a joué un rôle dans l’adhésion au judaïsme, cela a été aussi le cas dans la conversion
au christianisme et même dans la conversion à l’islam – une figure amphibolique qui a permis
aux musulmans d’attirer en leur sein les croyants du judaïsme et du christianisme, notamment en
31
Will et Orrieux, “Prosélytisme juif,” 144–47.
leur montrant qu’ils adorent le même ancêtre et donc le même dieu.32 L’œcuménisme de la figure
d’Abraham et la proclamation de son universalité a servi plus l’islam que le christianisme ou le
judaïsme, notamment en utilisant le concept occidental qu’est celui de monothéisme.33 D’autant
qu’Abraham est bien connu des Arabes, non seulement à cause de son fils Ismaël et de sa mère Agar,
mais surtout parce qu’elle leur est familière et ce à une époque antérieure à l’islam.
Quoi qu’il en soit, la figure d’Abraham est celle qui accueille le prosélyte ou le sympathisant,
l’invitant avec empressement à entrer pour prendre sa place dans la communauté d’Israël, ceci étant
il ne part pas selon toute apparence à sa recherche et ne s’organise pas pour cela.
Précisons que deux textes du Targum Neofiti – sur Gen 12:5 et Gen 21:33 – sont à
comprendre dans ce sens. C’est particulièrement exact pour Targum Neofiti sur Gen 21:33 qui
relève le fait d’adhésion au judaïsme à l’occasion d’une célébration de l’hospitalité d’Abraham.
Ainsi cette tradition de l’hospitalité d’Abraham pourrait être parfois comprise comme une
expression missionnaire.34 Comme l’affirme Robert Martin-Achard (1919–1999), théologien
protestant, “selon certaines traditions, Abraham aurait été le premier converti avant de devenir
missionnaire.”35
5. EXCURSUS: LE CONCEPT DE “RELIGION

ABRAHAMIQUE”: MYTHE OU RÉALITÉ ?
À partir d’un article de Michel Tardieu, qui est un rapide résumé d’un cours donné en 2006 au
Collège de France,36 il paraît possible de “prendre contact” avec ce qui pourrait être le concept de
“religion abrahamique” que l’on rencontre occasionnellement, surtout pour expliquer les origines
de l’islam par rapport au judaïsme et au christianisme. Pour ce critique, “L’idée de l’abrahamisme,
comme on l’appelle parfois, relève de la théologie naturelle, rationnelle, antérieure à la théologie
révélée des religions positives et d’une plus grande extension qu’elles.” Toujours selon ce même
critique, “Elle est récurrente dans la littérature classique et patristique.”
Ainsi, si Celse, le philosophe païen, dans les fragments subsistants de son Alethes Logos que l’on
connaît par Origène dans son Contre Celse, ne dit rien de la religion abrahamique, c’est probablement
qu’il en a été un adepte. En revanche, s’il concentre ses attaques sur la religion mosaïque qui, à ses
yeux, est une tromperie de gens incultes, c’est que pour lui, Moïse le magicien serait l’antithèse
d’Abraham le savant, l’observateur des astres, dont la narration biblique ne comporte ni récits de
miracles ni tours de sorcellerie.
Cette forme de pensée se retrouverait aussi dans le Contre les Galiléens de Julien qui “évite de
s’associer aux fêtes des Judéens,” mais qui “ne cesse de vénérer le dieu d’Abraham, d’Isaac et de
32
J. D. Levenson, “The Conversion of Abraham to Judaism, Christianity, and Islam,” dans H. Najman et J. H. Newman, éd.,
The Idea of Biblical Interpretation. Essays in Honor of James L. Kugel (Leyde/Boston, 2004), 3–40.
33
Au sujet du monothéisme, voir S. C. Mimouni, “Il Monoteismo: Una forma di totalitarismo attraverso i secoli,” Annali
di storia dell’esegesi 37 (2018): 7–22 (= S. C. Mimouni, Origines du christianisme. Recherche et enseignement à la Section
des sciences religieuses de l’École pratique des Hautes études, 1991–2017, Préface de P.-H. Poirier, membre de l’Institut,
Turnhout, 2018, 307–23).
34
Sandmel, “Philo’s Place in Judaism,” 197–98.
35
R. Martin-Achard, Actualité d’Abraham (Neuchâtel-Paris, 1969), 123.
36
M. Tardieu, “Le concept de religion abrahamique,” Annuaire du Collège de France 2005–2006 (Paris, 2007): 435–40.
Jacob, qui sont des Chaldéens, race sainte et théurgique” (voir Fragment 52 B-C, Fragment 69 B-D
et Fragment 354 B).
Une déclaration analogue se retrouve encore chez Marinus de Néapolis de la seconde moitié du
Ve siècle (Damascius, Vie d’Isidore, Test. 141) qui donne la description d’un processus de conversion
allant d’une forme déviante de mosaïsme (apparemment le samaritanisme) à un universalisme de
théologie naturelle (apparemment l’hellénisme).
On sait que les fouilles archéologiques ont mis au jour sur le Mont Garizim deux temples: un
premier (bâtiment B), samaritain, et un second (bâtiment A), consacré à Zeus Hypsistos (datant des
années 130)37 – ce dernier commémorant Abraham comme prêtre du dieu unique et supérieur de
la théologie naturelle.
Allant dans le même sens, une tradition herméneutique chez Héraclion considère la montagne
du Garizim comme “la création que vénèrent les Grecs” par opposition à la montagne de Jérusalem
comme “le démiurge à qui les Judéens rendent un culte” (Fragment 20).
Pour Michel Tardieu, “L’hénothéisme universalisant qui s’exprime dans les professions de foi
abrahamites du paganisme grec trouve son aboutissement dans les représentations coraniques de la
millat Ibrahim comme hanifiyya.”38
À ce sujet, observons qu’il est courant de parler des « religions d’Abraham » au pluriel. Il s’agit
d’un usage particulièrement chrétien qui vise à inclure le judaïsme à l’islam et à les associer au
christianisme au sein d’une vague fraternité, celle d’un ancêtre et d’une histoire qu’ils auraient en
commun, représentée par la figure du patriarche Abraham – les expressions “les trois monothéismes”
ou “les trois religions du Livre” jouent un rôle comparable et bien souvent tout aussi confus.39
Or l’expression “religion d’Abraham” (millat Ibrâhim), au singulier, se trouve cinq fois dans
le Qurʾan (Q 2:130.135; 4:125; 6:161; 16:123). Dans ce cas, l’idée principale correspondant à
cette expression n’est pas d’inclure, mais d’exclure le judaïsme et le christianisme, afin de s’en
différencier.
C’est ainsi qu’apparaît l’idée que l’islam est déjà la religion d’Abraham. Une religion d’Abraham,
qui est antérieure au judaïsme et au christianisme, tout en étant aussi celle de Noé, Moïse et Jésus,
comme cela est spécifié dans le Qurʾan (Q 4:163).
Ce n’est donc pas sans raison que le philosophe Rémi Brague relève: “grâce à l’invocation de la
figure d’Abraham, l’islam effectue de la sorte une opération paradoxale qui le fait se présenter tout
à la fois comme la dernière des religions et comme la première de toutes.”40
Conséquence: puisque le judaïsme et le christianisme ont reçu la même révélation que l’islam, et
que leurs disciples ne lui ont pas été fidèles, les véritables croyants du judaïsme et du christianisme,
les authentiques disciples de Moïse et de Jésus, ce ne sont pas ceux qui se disent issus du judaïsme
et du christianisme, ce sont les musulmans (Q 30:30).
37
Y. Magen, “Gerizim, Mount.” dans New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land II (1993), 484–92;
V (2008), 1742–48; et Y. Magen, “Mount Gerizim and the Samaritans,” dans F. Manns et E. Alliata, éd., Early Christianity
in Context. Monuments and Documents (Jérusalem, 1993), 91–147.
38
À ce sujet, voir U. Rubin, “Haniffiyya and Kaába: An Inquiry into the Arabian Pre-Islamic Background of din Ibrahim,”
Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam 13 (1990): 85–112.
39
R. Brague, Du Dieu des chrétiens, et d’un ou deux autres (Paris, 20061, 20082).
40
Ibid., 33.
L’islam se présente donc comme la première de toutes les religions monothéistes, suivant une
thématique chrétienne bien connue sur l’antériorité foncière de la vraie religion, du monothéisme
sur le polythéisme. Autrement dit, l’islam prétend être la religion naturelle de toute l’humanité (Q
7:172–173).
La présence de cette religion d’Abraham dans le Coran pourrait provenir d’une influence des
Judéens, du moins de ceux qui rattachent leur Torah non pas seulement à Moïse, mais aussi à
Abraham, à cause de son antériorité et de sa priorité qui sont supposées. On sait que ce sont les
Judéens synagogaux et non pas les Judéens rabbiniques qui ont exercé une certaine influence sur les
débuts de l’islam – c’est ce que montrent de plus en plus les recherches récentes.
Pour en revenir à l’article de Michel Tardieu, soulignons qu’en se fondant sur les importants
matériaux rassemblés par Christian J. Robin,41 son auteur estime pouvoir penser que le passage du
“polythéisme” au “monothéisme” dans une Arabie du Sud unifiée par la dynastie régnante pourrait
se situer vers 370 de notre ère. De la sorte, selon ce critique, “l’emploi d’une phraséologie judaïsante
dans les inscriptions du Ve siècle n’y est pas traduisible en termes de religion positive, ainsi que le
montrent par comparaison les professions de foi de Julien et de Marinus,” estimant que ce n’est
que de la théologie naturelle. Michel Tardieu s’appuie principalement sur le témoignage de Procope
qui distingue dans la société himyarite les “Judéens” proprement dits de “l’ancienne croyance
que les hommes de maintenant appellent hellénique”: ce qui lui permet de conclure que cette «
ancienne croyance » pourrait être ce que Marinus et Damascius appellent la religion d’Abraham ou
hellénisme – autrement dit, un paganisme hénothéisant qui est attesté sous sa forme savante dans
la philosophie grecque. Il est particulièrement difficile de suivre Michel Tardieu sur ce point qui
apparaît comme relativement confus, d’autant que parler de “polythéisme” et de “monothéisme,”
même avec des guillemets, n’est pas sans source de difficultés: les inscriptions qui emploient une
“phraséologie judaïsante” sont tout simplement judéennes, mais relevant d’un judaïsme synagogal et
non d’un judaïsme rabbinique, sans besoin de passer par une religion abrahamique dont le caractère
artificiel n’est que trop évident.42
On peut être, en effet, relativement sceptique dans une démarche générale consistant à
concevoir une religion abrahamique qui serait universalisante et engloberait des intellectuels (des
philosophes en l’occurrence) de toutes les ethnicités. On a l’impression qu’on veut y voir une sorte
d’internationale abrahamique comme le seront plus tard, à partir des XVIIe-XVIIIe siècles, le déisme
et la maçonnerie.
On peut penser qu’il y a une autre manière de comprendre la figure d’Abraham qui semble avoir
été une entité tutélaire originaire de l’Arabie septentrionale (y compris l’Idumée), comme on l’a
déjà laissé entendre, ayant été reprise par les Judéens au IIe siècle avant notre ère (les Hasmonéens),
41
C. J. Robin, “Le judaïsme de Himyar,” Arabia 1 (2003): 97–172; C. J. Robin, “Himyar et Israël,” dans Comptes rendus
de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres 148 (2004): 831–908; C. J. Robin, “Joseph, dernier roi de Himyar (de
522 à 525, ou une des années suivantes),” Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam 32 (2008): 1–124; C. J. Robin, “Les
religions pratiquées par les membres de la tribu de Kinda (Arabie) à la veille de l’Islam,” Judaïsme ancien / Ancient Judaism
1 (2013): 203–61; C. J. Robin, “Le roi himryarite Tha’ran Yuhanìm (v. 342-v. 375). Stabilisation politique et réforme
religieuse,” Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam 41 (2014): 1–96; et C. J. Robin, “Quel judaïsme en Arabie ?,” dans C. J.
Robin, éd., Le judaïsme de l’Arabie antique. Colloque de Jérusalem (février 2006) (Turnhout, 2015), 15–296.
42
Voir C. A. Segovia, “The Jews and Christians of Pre-Islamic Yemen (Himyar) and the Elusive Matrix of the Qur’an’s
Christology,” dans F. del Río Sánchez, éd, Jewish-Christianity and the Origins of Islam. Papers presented at the Colloquium
held in Washington DC, October 29-31, 2015 (8th ASMEA Conference) (Turnhout, 2018), 91–104.
puis par les Samaritains lorsqu’ils se sont séparés, emportant avec eux le Pentateuque. Il n’y aurait
alors rien d’étonnant que Marinus de Néapolis, un philosophe néoplatonicien, ayant appartenu au
culte samaritain du Mont Garizim, ait développé une forme d’hellénisme universalisant attesté par
le temple de Zeus Hypsistos, réalisant alors un syncrétisme en lui associant la figure d’Abraham bien
connue des Samaritains.
De même, il paraît difficile de comprendre en quoi Celse, le philosophe païen, aurait été un
adepte de cette pseudo religion abrahamique, même s’il oppose Abraham et Moïse – Abraham
étant une figure partagée par les Judéens et les Arabes, souvent utilisées on l’a vu par les apologies
judéennes à destination des Gréco-Romains.
Le concept de religion abrahamique devrait soulever de nombreuses réserves, d’autant qu’il paraît
être le résultat d’une idéologie issue de la Modernité, relativement proche de la maçonnerie, qui
veut se donner des lettres de noblesse comme semble le montrer le philosophe allemand Gottfried
Wilhelm Leibniz (1646–1716) dans son Discours sur la théologie naturelle des Chinois, 1716.
En effet, aux XVIIe-XVIIIe siècles, on discute de la question de savoir si le temps des patriarches
n’aurait pas été l’époque durant laquelle se seraient communiqué d’un bout à l’autre du monde
une connaissance naturelle du divin telle que celle d’Abraham: il s’agit là d’une idée selon laquelle
la religion abrahamique est une forme de connaissance naturelle ou philosophique du divin, qui
émerge en Abraham par son rapport au monde et non pas grâce à une révélation, et sans que cela
ne se traduise encore par des prescriptions rituelles bien déterminées.
Si jamais, cette idée remontait à l’Antiquité tardive, elle serait à rattacher à l’un des thèmes
du prosélytisme judéen à destination de la population gréco-romaine, hellénisée et cultivée de
l’Empire. Cette religion abrahamique serait alors une préparation à l’accueil de la révélation de la
Loi par Moïse: il s’agirait de faire valoir qu’une connaissance philosophique du divin, telle que celle
des Grecs, pourrait préparer à la conversion ou à l’accueil de la révélation comme est comprise la
“foi” d’Abraham dans la Bible.
Il conviendrait alors de rattacher cette idée au groupe syncrétiste pagano-judéen comme celui
des hypsistariens, attesté en Anatolie dans l’Antiquité classique et tardive.43
Ce même thème prosélyte est employé par Paul de Tarse lorsqu’il prêche aux Athéniens sur
l’Aréopage (voir Acts 17:16–34).
La figure d’Abraham a été recomposée de diverses manières par Philon d’Alexandrie et par Paul
de Tarse, devenant des motifs intellectuels de la propagande missionnaire judéenne aux époques
grecque et romaine et permettant une adhésion plus facilitée dans le judaïsme d’abord, dans le
christianisme ensuite.
Ces dernières années, on a assisté à la création d’un nouveau concept, comme celui de “religions
abrahamiques,” afin d’englober de manière positive les trois religions dites monothéistes (judaïsme,
christianisme et islam) autour de la figure d’Abraham.44 Ce concept ouvrirait les voies à un consensus
mutuel, afin en principe d’éviter les conflits ou du moins de les arbitrer.
43
À ce sujet, pour une première approche, voir S. C. Mimouni, Le judaïsme ancien du VIe siècle avant notre ère au IIIe siècle
de notre ère: des prêtres aux rabbins (Paris, 2012), 680–81.
44
G. G. Stroumsa, The Making of the Abrahamic Religions in Late Antiquity (Oxford, 2015). Voir aussi A. Silverstein et G.
G. Stroumsa, éd., The Oxford Handbook of the Abrahamic Religions (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), et voir encore
G. G. Stroumsa, Religions d’Abraham. Histoires croisées (Genève, 2017).
Quoi qu’il en soit de ces tentatives qui toutes partent d’un excellent sentiment, l’historien doit
se garder de concevoir ou de cautionner des religions reposant sur des concepts erronés qui ne
peuvent que conduire à des confusions, même si une religion abrahamique globalisant les trois
religions dites monothéistes et qui leur serait même antérieure est une idée séduisante pour des
esprits pacifiques et œcuméniques…
6. BIBLIOGRAPHIE
Boccaccini, G. “Targum Neofiti as a Proto-Rabbinic Document: A Systemic Analysis.” Pages 260–69 dans
The Aramaic Bible: Targums in Their Historical Context. Édité par D. R. G. Beattie et M. McNamara.
Sheffield, 1994.
Bogaert, P.-M. “La figure d’Abraham dans les Antiquités bibliques du Pseudo-Philon.” Pages 40–61 dans
Abraham dans la Bible et dans la tradition juive. Édité par P.-M. Bogaert. Bruxelles, 1977.
Brague, R. Du Dieu des chrétiens, et d’un ou deux autres. Paris, 20061, 20082.
Cazelles, H. “La mission d’Esdras.” VT 4 (1954): 113–40.
Cothenet, É. “À l’arrière-plan de l’allégorie d’Agar et de Sara (Ga 4, 21-31).” Pages 457–65 dans De la
Torah au Messie. Études d’exégèse et d’herméneutique bibliques offertes à Henri Cazelles pour ses 25 années
d’enseignement à l’Institut catholique de Paris (octobre 1979). Paris, 1981.
Craig, C. A. “Abraham in the Dead Sea Scrolls.” Pages 149–58 dans The Bible at Qumrân. Édité par P. W. Flint.
Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001.
de Pury, A. “Genèse 12-36.” Pages 232–34 dans Introduction à l’Ancien Testament. Édité par T. Römer et C.
Nihan. Genève, 2009.
Diez-Macho, A. El Targum. Barcelone, 1972.
Feldman, L. H. “Abraham the Greek Philosopher in Josephus.” TAPhA 99 (1968): 143–56.
Gignac, A. “L’interprétation du récit d’Abraham en Galates 3, 6-4, 7, tour de force ou coup de force? Le travail
narratif du lecteur face à l’énonciation et é l’intertextualité pauliniennes.” Pages 309–30 dans Le lecteur. VIe
Colloque international du RRENAB, Louvain-la-Neuve, 24-26 mai 2012. Édité par R. Burnet, D. Luciani,
et G. Van Oyen. Leuven, 2014.
Granerod, G. Abraham dans Melchizedek Scribal Activity of Second Temple Times in Genesis 14 and Psalm
110. Berlin, 2010.
Grelot, P. “La dernière étape de la rédaction sacerdotale.” VT 6 (1956): 174–89.
Hayward, R. “Abraham as Proselytiser.” JJS 49 (1998): 24–37.
Lambrecht, J. “ ‘Abraham notre Père à tous.’ La figure d’Abraham dans les écrits pauliniens.” 118–59 dans
Abraham dans la Bible et dans la tradition juive. Édité par P. M. Bogaert. Bruxelles, 1977.
Lavee, M. “Converting the Missionary Image of Abraham: Rabbinic Traditions Migrating from the Land of
Israël to Babylon.” Pages 201–22 dans Abraham, the Nations, dans the Hagarites. Jewish, Christian, and
Islamic Perspectives on Kingship with Abraham. Édité par M. Goodman, G. H. van Kooten, et J. T. A. G. M.
van Ruiten. Leyde/Boston, 2010.
Levenson, J. D. “The Conversion of Abraham to Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.” Pages 3–40 dans The Idea
of Biblical Interpretation. Essays in Honor of James L. Kugel. Édité par H. Najman et J. H. Newman. Leyde/
Boston, 2004.
Magen, Y. “Gerizim, Mount.” Dans New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land II
(1993), 484–92; V (2008), 1742–48.
Magen, Y. “Mount Gerizim and the Samaritans.” Pages 91–147 dans Early Christianity in Context. Monuments
and Documents. Édité par F. Manns et E. Alliata. Jérusalem, 1993.
Mimouni, S. C. “Il Monoteismo: Una forma di totalitarismo attraverso i secoli.” Annali di storia dell’esegesi 37
(2018): 7–22 (= Mimouni, S. C. “Conférence conclusive a l’École pratique des Hautes études-section des
sciences religieuses.” Pages 307–23 dans Origines du christianisme. Recherche et enseignement à la Section
des sciences religieuses de l’École pratique des Hautes études, 1991–2017. Préface de P.-H. Poirier, membre
de l’Institut. Turnhout, 2018.
Mimouni, S. C. “Le ‘judaïsme sacerdotal et synagogal’ en Palestine et en Diaspora entre le IIe et le VIe
siècle: propositions pour un nouveau concept.” Comptes rendus de l’Académie des Inscriptions & Belles-
Lettres 159 (2015): 113–47.
Mimouni, S. C. “Le conflit inter-judéen (halakhique) entre Paul, Jacques et Pierre dans la réception des Actes
des Apôtres.” Judaïsme ancien / Ancient Judaism 7 (2019): 153–86.
Mimouni, S. C. La circoncision dans le monde judéen aux époques grecque et romaine. Histoire d’un conflit
interne au judaïsme. Paris/Louvain, 2007.
Mimouni, S. C. Le judaïsme ancien du VIe siècle avant notre ère au IIIe siècle de notre ère: des prêtres aux
rabbins. Paris, 2012.
Ohana, M. “Agneau pascal et circoncision: le problème de la Halakha prémishnaïque dans le Targum
palestinien.” VT 23 (1973): 385–99.
Ohana, M. “Prosélytisme et targum palestinien: données nouvelles pour la datation de Néofiti 1.” Biblica 55
(1974): 317–32.
Quesnel, M. “Visages d’Abraham dans le Nouveau Testament.” Le Monde de la Bible 140 (2002): 32–36.
Reed, A. Y. “The Construction and Subversion of Patriarchal Perfection: Abraham and Exemplarity in Philo,
Josephus, and the Testament of Abraham.” JSJ 40 (2009): 185–212.
Robin, C. J. “Le judaïsme de Himyar.” Arabia 1 (2003): 97–172.
Robin, C. J. “Himyar et Israël.” Comptes rendus de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres 148
(2004): 831–908.
Robin, C. J. “Joseph, dernier roi de Himyar (de 522 à 525, ou une des années suivantes).” Jerusalem Studies
in Arabic and Islam 32 (2008): 1–124.
Robin, C. J. “Les religions pratiquées par les membres de la tribu de Kinda (Arabie) à la veille de l’Islam.”
Judaïsme ancien / Ancient Judaism 1 (2013): 203–61.
Robin, C. J. “Le roi himryarite Tha’ran Yuhanìm (v. 342-v. 375). Stabilisation politique et réforme religieuse.”
Robin, C. J. “Quel judaïsme en Arabie ?.” Pages 15–296 dans Le judaïsme de l’Arabie antique. Colloque de
Jérusalem (février 2006). Édité par C. J. Robin. Turnhout, 2015.
Rubin, U. “Haniffiyya and Kaába: An Inquiry into the Arabian Pre-Islamic Background of din Ibrahim.”
Sandmel, S. “Philo’s Place in Judaism: A Study of Conceptions of Abraham in Jewish Literature II.” HUCA 26
(1955): 151–332.
Segovia, C. A. “The Jews and Christians of Pre-Islamic Yemen (Himyar) and the Elusive Matrix of the Qur’an’s
Christology.” Pages 91–104 dans Jewish-Christianity and the Origins of Islam. Papers presented at the
Colloquium held in Washington DC, October 29-31, 2015 (8th ASMEA Conference). Édité par F. del Río
Sánchez. Turnhout, 2018.
Silverstein, A. et G. G. Stroumsa, éd. The Oxford Handbook of the Abrahamic Religions. Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2015.
Stroumsa, G. G. The Making of the Abrahamic Religions in Late Antiquity. Oxford, 2015.
Tardieu, M. “Le concept de religion abrahamique.” Annuaire du Collège de France 2005–2006 (Paris,
2007): 435–40.
Van Reeth, J. M. F. “Melchisédech le Prophète éternel selon Jean d’Apamée et le monarchianisme musulman.”
Oriens Christianus 96 (2012): 8–46.
Wagner, G. “Les enfants d’Abraham ou les chemins de la promesse et de la liberté. Exégèse de Galates 4,
21-21.” RHPR 71 (1991): 285–95.
Warner, M. Re-Imagining Abraham. A Re-Assessment of the Influence of Deuteronomism in Genesis. Leyde-
Boston, 2018.
Will, E. et C. Orrieux. “Prosélytisme juif ”? Histoire d’une erreur. Paris, 1992.
CHAPTER THREE
Hebrews, the Aqedah, and Early

Scriptural Interpretation
C. D. ELLEDGE
1. INTRODUCTION
Among the contributions of the study of the Apocrypha, Pseudepigrapha, Dead Sea Scrolls, Philo,
and Josephus has been an ever-deepening understanding of the underlying hermeneutical cultures
that shaped scriptural interpretation within the era of Christian origins. Jim Charlesworth and
colleagues recognized this contribution in their voluminous editing of the Pseudepigrapha.1 For
Charlesworth, exegetical practices formed “the crucible of the Pseudepigrapha,” as scriptural
interpretation fused together a vast range of ancient knowledges to produce new scripturally
inspired literary works.2 This recognition lives on within his extensive editorial work on the Dead
Sea Scrolls, which even more fully illuminate the variety and complexity of ancient interpretive
practices. An important implication of Charlesworth’s efforts remains that the New Testament
authors did not view scripture within a vacuum but through the rich interpretive culture of their
own time.
The value of these writings for understanding even a single instance of scriptural interpretation
in the New Testament is well-illustrated in Hebrews’ rendition of the trial of Abraham:
By faith, Abraham, when he was tested, brought forth Isaac. And he who received the promises
was bringing forth his only son, of whom it was said, “In Isaac shall your seed be called” [Gen
21:12], having reasoned that God was powerful to raise him even from the dead, whence he also
received him back in a parable. (Heb 11:17–19)
Hebrews’ brief rendition transpires within the book’s exhortation on faith (11:1–12:13), which
episodically reviews exempla of faithfulness from the creation of the world to the activities of
Israel’s kings, prophets, and martyrs. The exhortation serves as a positive counterpart to the negative
admonitions against unbelief, illustrated among the wilderness ancestors (Heb 3:7–4:14; cf. 10:19–39).3
1
J. H. Charlesworth, ed., Apocalyptic Literature and Testaments, vol. 1 of The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha (Garden City,
NY: Doubleday, 1983); J. H. Charlesworth, ed., Expansions of the “Old Testament” and Legends, Wisdom and Philosophical
Literature, Prayers, Psalms, and Odes, Fragments of Lost Judeo-Hellenistic Works, vol. 2 of The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha
(Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1985).
2
J. H. Charlesworth, “In the Crucible: The Pseudepigrapha as Biblical Interpretation,” in The Pseudepigrapha and Early
Biblical Interpretation, ed. J. H. Charlesworth and C. A. Evans, JSPSup 14 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993), 20–43.
3
R. E. Clements, “The Use of the Old Testament in Hebrews,” SJT 28 (1985): 42–4.
Here, however, the faithfulness of the ancestors is repeatedly praised. The literary style and exegetical
assumptions of these hortatory exempla have been compared with analogous compositions, in which
renditions of the trial also repeatedly feature.
The exhortation has been assessed among rhetorical “example lists”4 or “hero lists,”5 in which
a selective rendition of episodes from the past offers a model for the present. In the Wisdom of
Solomon, an enlightened poem enumerates the activities of “Wisdom” from creation to the exodus
(Wis 10:1–11:20), as she delivers the righteous and punishes the wicked. In the trial of Abraham,
it was “Wisdom,” who “preserved him strong against his compassion for his son” (Wis 10:5).
Hebrews’ exhortation offers a comparable historical review, one in which “faith” (and supportive
motifs, such as martyrdom and resurrection) now provides the unifying strand that runs through
the ancestors’ experience. Yet Hebrews focuses its exhortation not upon the divine operations of
transcendent Wisdom but rather upon the human faithfulness that should even now inspire the
author’s own generation.
In this regard, the exhortation may more fully resemble Ben Sira’s “Praise of the Ancestors”
(Sir 44–50), a poetic unit that extols the righteousness of earlier generations, from the primaeval
ancestors to the priesthood of Simon, son of Onias, in his own time. If Hebrews accentuated “faith”
and Pseudo-Solomon “Wisdom,” Ben Sira’s poem exemplifies kinship, the priesthood, and God’s
mercy throughout the ages. The review coalesces with present circumstances, which are powerfully
framed by the heritage of the past. In the estimation of Skehan and Dilella, the poem “is meant to
reinforce the conviction and courage of Ben Sira’s contemporaries.”6 Mattathias’ testamentary speech
in 1 Maccabees (2:49–70) offers another counterpart that teaches future ages to “be courageous and
grow strong in the law, for by it you will gain honor” (2:64; cf. 4 Macc 16:16–23). Judith likewise
exhorts her contemporaries to defend the sanctuary, knowing that God “tests us, even as he tested
our ancestors” (8:25–27). In Ben Sira, 1 Maccabees, and Judith, the review of the past converges
with the circumstances of the present, a rhetorical dynamic that Hebrews skillfully executes by
calling its own generation to “run the race that is set before us,” fully inspired by the witnesses of
the past (12:1).7
The exhortation operates primarily by retelling scriptural episodes.8 Hebrews, thus, utilizes
on a much smaller, concentrated scale the implicit interpretive techniques of compositions that
“rewrite” earlier scriptures. While their methods differ, Jubilees, Pseudo-Jubileesa (4Q225), the
LAB, and Josephus’s Jewish Antiquities offer their own retellings of the story of Genesis 22. These
works rewrite scriptural passages, while also abbreviating, conflating, harmonizing, and rearranging
materials.9 They further interweave new interpretive elements, as they address perceived exegetical
problems and advance their own conceptual agendas.
4
M. Cosby, The Rhetorical Composition and Function of Hebrews 11: In Light of Example Lists in Antiquity (Macon,
GA: Mercer, 1988).
5
P. Eisenbaum, The Jewish Heroes of Christian History: Hebrews 11 in Literary Context, SBLDS 156 (Atlanta, GA: Scholars
Press, 1997); cf. H. Windisch, Hebräerbrief, 2nd ed., HNT 14 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1931), 98.
6
P. W. Skehan and A. A. Dilella, The Wisdom of Ben Sira, AB 39 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1987), 500.
7
H. W. Attridge further compares Philo, Praem. 11–15, which offers a series of exempla on “hope” and concludes with
a flourish of athletic imagery; The Epistle to the Hebrews: A Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews, Hermeneia
(Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1989), 306; cf. also Windisch, Hebräerbrief, 98.
8
Eisenbaum, Jewish Heroes, 104.
9
S. Crawford, Rewriting Scripture in Second Temple Times (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2008).
HEBREWS, THE AQEDAH, AND EARLY SCRIPTURAL INTERPRETATION 31
Finally, the study of the Apocrypha, Pseudepigrapha, Dead Sea Scrolls, and Josephus has shown
that many interpretive traditions of early Judaism continued to flourish within the targums and
midrashim.10 Interpretations of the trial abound among these works. Such representations of
the Aqedah (the “binding” of Isaac), as well as their earlier formation in the Second Temple era,
constitute an area of intense inquiry and dispute. While scholars such as Davies and Chilton have
insisted that the fullest formation of the Aqedah as an atoning sacrifice occurred only in later
antiquity,11 others have argued that such an interpretation of the story was already underway within
the first century and may even have influenced the Christologies of the early church.12 Hebrews
appears to occupy its own distinct position within this larger development, as interpretive traditions
of the Second Temple era lived on within the nascent church. In Hebrews’ version of the story, one
finds interpretive maneuvers that continued to develop more fully among the targums and aggadic
midrashim.13
Understanding Hebrews’ treatment of the trial benefits from contextual comparisons within
each of these domains, offering a fuller appreciation for the author’s own distinct “crucible” of
interpretation. The brevity of the passage does not minimize its complexity. The rhetoric of the
exhortation heavily condenses the author’s sweeping judgments about scriptural narratives into a
proliferation of concise epitomes. As a result, the chapter draws a vast range of scriptural tradition
into a very narrow compass, thus creating “the impression of an overwhelming body of evidence.”14
The structure of the passage offers two parallel claims that surround a brief citation of the promise
found in Gen 21:12, one of the few explicit scriptural citations within the exhortation. The first
set of parallel claims describes Abraham himself as one whose faith in the divine promises is tested
(11:17); the second psychologizes his internal hope that God would even raise Isaac from the dead,
in order to keep the promise (11:19).
2. PROMISE
Hebrews’ incorporation of the promise from Gen 21:12 into the trial addresses a problem that is
handled in different ways among ancient interpreters. The Genesis story suddenly begins “After
these things” or “After these words” (22:1; MT: dbrym, LXX: rhēmata). After what things or what
words? The attempt to answer this question, and thus to reconcile the sudden, shocking demand
of the deity (Philo, Abr. 169) with the larger context of Genesis, takes different forms.15 Jubilees
10
G. Vermes, Scripture and Tradition in Judaism (Leiden: Brill, 1974), 3–10.
11
P. R. Davies and B. D. Chilton, “The Akedah: A Revised Tradition History,” CBQ 40 (1978): 514–46.
12
Vermes, Scripture and Tradition, 193–227; J. Swetnam, Jesus and Isaac: A Study of the Epistle to the Hebrews in the Light
of the Aqedah, AnBib 94 (Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1981); A. F. Segal, “ ‘He Who Did Not Spare His Own Son …’
Jesus, Paul, and the Akedah,” in From Jesus to Paul: Studies in Honour of Francis Wright Beare, ed. P. Richardson and J.
Hurd (Waterloo, ON: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1984), 169–84; and L. A. Huizenga, “The Aqedah at the End of the
First Century of the Common Era: Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum, 4 Maccabees, Josephus’ Antiquities, 1 Clement,” JSP 20
(2010): 105–33.
13
O. Michel, Der Brief an die Hebräer, Meyers Kommentar 13 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1966), 422.
14
A. D. Bulley, “Death and Rhetoric in the Hebrews ‘Hymn to Faith,’ ” Studies in Religion 25 (1996): 409–23 at 412.
15
M. Kister, “Observations on Aspects of Exegesis, Tradition, and Theology in Midrash, Pseudepigrapha, and Other
Jewish Writings,” in Tracing the Threads: Studies in the Vitality of Jewish Pseudepigrapha, ed. J. Reeves, SBLEJL 6 (Atlanta,
GA: Scholars Press, 1994), 7–15.
retells the story with a dualistic preface concerning the “words in heaven” that transpired between
God and Prince Mastema, leading to the Job-like test of Abraham (Jub. 17:15–18; cf. 4QPseudo-
Jubileesa [4Q225] frag 2 i 9–10; LAB 32:1–2; b. Sanh. 89b; Gen. Rab. 56:4; Num. Rab. 17:2, Midr.
Tanḥ. Shelaḥ 4:27, Mattot 9:1). Other interpreters drew upon an implied conflict (Gen 21:9), in
which Ishmael and Isaac disputed over who should become Abraham’s heir (Tg. Ps.-J. 22), a matter
resolved by Isaac’s obedience during the trial.
For Hebrews, however, the link between the trial and its larger scriptural context is to be found
in the promise of Gen 21:12, which is “spoken”16 directly to Abraham. The incorporation of this
specific promise as background to the trial is also attested among select midrashim (Gen. Rab.
56:8; Lev. Rab. 29:10; Tanḥ. Vayera 4:39, 46).17 In Hebrews, too, it is after these very words that
the faith of Abraham—“he who had received the promises”—is tested (Heb 11:17). Other ancient
interpreters preface the events with a variety of promises from Genesis that nevertheless also deal
with Abraham’s offspring.
4QPseudo-Jubileesa prefers Gen 15:2, 4–6 (frag. 2 i 3–7).18 The selection of these promises is
prompted by the reiteration of comparable phraseology at the conclusion of the trial story (Gen
22:17–18). Thus, 4QPseudo-Jubileesa associates the two versions of the promise (Gen 15:2, 4–6;
22:17–18), combining them into a fuller preface to the trial.19 All these passages concern Abraham’s
offspring, the very point with which 4QPseudo-Jubileesa also concludes the account, as Isaac’s
descendants are enumerated (frag. 2 ii 10–12).20 In reading the promise of offspring directly into the
context of the trial, 4QPseudo-Jubileesa exhibits an interpretive tendency that anticipates Hebrews.
Among the retellings of the story that echo through the Liber antiquitatum biblicarum, Gen
15:1–6 also presents immediate background (LAB 18:5). LAB reads Gen 15:1 (“in a vision”) as a
virtual cosmic apocalypse in which Abraham is taken up into the heavenly world and commanded
to sacrifice his son. Through the author’s daring recontextualization of the story, God’s own first-
person perspective of the trial is then revealed. The brief allusion to Abraham in 1 Maccabees
also recalls Gen 15:6, as his “faithful[ness] in trial” becomes the very moment in which “it was
accounted to him as righteousness” (1 Macc 2:52).
The explicit relationship between the promise of offspring and the arduous trial was, therefore,
shared in varying forms among contemporary interpreters. Hebrews reflects the tendency to
associate the story with the more immediate context of Genesis 21, even as other writings prefer
15:1–6. Yet the author of Hebrews joins other ancient interpreters by emphasizing the direct
association between the promise and the trial. The tension between promise and trial perfectly suits
Hebrews’ rhetorical purposes, encapsulating a major theme of the exhortation and of the book as
16
M. Barth, “The Old Testament in Hebrews: An Essay in Biblical Hermeneutics,” in Current Issues in New Testament
Interpretation: Essays in Honour of Otto A. Piper, ed. W. Klassen and G. Snyder (London: SCM, 1962), 58–61.
17
S. Buber, Midrash Tanḥuma, trans. J. Townsend (Jersey City, NJ: Ktav, 2003), 123.
18
J. T. Milik and J. C. VanderKam, Qumran Cave 4.VIII: Parabiblical Texts, Part I, DJD 13 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994),
141–55.
19
F. García Martínez further identifies the incorporation of Gen 13:16; “The Sacrifice of Isaac in 4Q225,” in The Sacrifice
of Isaac: The Aqedah (Genesis 22) and Its Interpretations, ed. E. Noort and E. J. C. Tigchelaar, TBN 4 (Leiden: Brill,
2002), 47–8.
20
J. C. VanderKam, “The Aqedah, Jubilees, and Pseudo-Jubilees,” in The Quest for Context and Meaning: Studies in Biblical
Intertextuality in Honor of James A. Sanders, ed. C. A. Evans and S. Talmon (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 241–61 at 253; on Levi
as a descendant, see also DJD 13:153.
a whole: Faith in the divine promises will demand patient endurance, obedience, and hope during
times of testing—even the possibility of “dying in faith” prior to their fulfillment (Heb 11:13) or
suffering martyrdom (Heb 11:35–39).
3. FAITH
What was the characteristic that defined Abraham in the trial? Ancient interpreters differ on this
question.21 The scriptural narrative emphasizes that Abraham “fears God,” since he has not spared
even his “own beloved son on account of me” (LXX Gen 22:12); moreover, the austere plotline of
the story describes Abraham’s active, practical obedience in carrying out even the smallest details
of the divine command (Gen 22:3–10).
For Hebrews, it was “by faith” that Abraham did these things. Since Hebrews applies “faith”
across the gamut of scriptural history, it may initially appear that the author has artificially
superimposed this quality upon the story. Indeed, “faith” is nowhere mentioned within Genesis 22.
As Harold W. Attridge observes,
One peculiarity of all these examples is that none of the original stories from which they are
drawn explicitly highlights faith. Conversely, biblical accounts where faith does play a role are
ignored. In some cases our author may have been inspired by haggadic traditions to ascribe faith
to the biblical heroes, but such traditions do not explain all the elements of the chapter. It is
clear that “faith” has not been chosen as an organizing rubric for these exempla on any inductive
principle. It is imposed on or read into a list of biblical heroes.22
Other scholars conclude that “having faith is not in and of itself a foundational principle of selection”23
among these episodes at all. One may compare Wisdom, where the presence of transcendent
Wisdom is likewise interpreted into scriptural episodes where it is not literally apparent. Hebrews
and Wisdom may even encourage a distinctive consciousness for interpreting scriptural episodes
precisely by emphasizing what is not literally there. Yet I would like to develop a point that is
acknowledged, if not fully exemplified, in Attridge’s assessment: The tradition of Abraham’s “faith”
had precedent within the larger context of Genesis (15:6); and other ancient interpreters insisted,
together with Hebrews, that “faith” was specifically demonstrated within the trial.
In Jubilees’ rendition of the story, Abraham was “faithful” (Eth., mə’əman) throughout the
earlier trials he experienced: “And in everything in which [God] tested him, he was found faithful.
And his soul was not impatient. And he was not slow to act because he was faithful and a lover of
the Lord” (17:18; trans. OTP). In the conclusion to the episode, Jubilees reiterates faithfulness by
interweaving this quality into the divine word to Abraham (Gen 22:15–18), even where it was not
explicitly found: “And I have made known to all that you are faithful to me in everything which
I say to you” (Jub. 18:16). Jubilees rewrites Gen 22:12, so that God already knows of Abraham’s
faithfulness before the outcome (Jub. 18:9–10). Such faithfulness consists of his obedience to
21
Beyond Abraham’s “faithfulness,” a wider range of attributes is explored. See Philo, Abr. 169; Josephus, Ant. 1.225; Wis
10:5; m. ʾAbot 5:3; Pirqe R. El. 31.
22
Attridge, Hebrews, 306.
23
Eisenbaum, Jewish Heroes, 140–1.
sacrifice and to keep the laws of the heavenly tablets, even when faced with affliction by Mastema.
Within Jubilees’ schema of ten trials, Abraham is repeatedly “found faithful” (19:9).24
The version of the story in Pseudo-Jubileesa likewise accentuates Abraham’s “faith.” By
immediately prefacing the episode with a version of Gen 15:2–6, Pseudo-Jubileesa emphasizes that
Abraham “believed” (wy’[myn]) God (Gen 15:6; cf. 1 Macc 2:52). With the outcome hanging in
the balance, the trial fundamentally concerns “[whether] he would be found false (or weak) and
whether he would not be found faithful (n’mn)” (4Q225 frag. 2 ii 7–8; cf. 4Q226 frag. 7 line 1).25
Yet again, “faithfulness” stands at the uttermost core of the trial.
Other writings briefly accentuate Abraham’s faithfulness, as though this characteristic had become
synonymous with the trial. Mattathias’ testament glorifies Abraham’s faith: “Was not Abraham
found faithful in trial?” (1 Macc 2:52). Ben Sira likewise remarks, “in trial, he was found faithful”
(Sir 44:20; cf. Neh 9:8).26 In these brief cases, it is as though Abraham’s “faith” has become a
virtually subliminal association with the trial (or trials), even though this quality is mentioned
nowhere within Genesis 22.
The letter to the Hebrews appears to share this interpretive stance. In this sense, Hebrews does
not arbitrarily superimpose “faith” externally upon the scriptural episode so much as it views the
story through interpretive preconceptions of its own time. Given the prominence of Abraham,
Sarah, and their immediate descendants within the exhortation (11:8–22), it is conceivable that
Abraham’s “faith,” so repeatedly praised among ancient interpreters, constituted a central core
for the larger exhortation, a lens through which the author reads the greater expanse of scriptural
history. This appears to be the case in 11:12, where the reiteration of the divine promises concluding
the trial (Gen 22:17) has been sequentially retrojected back into the very moment of Isaac’s birth, as
though Hebrews is already looking ahead to Abraham’s faithfulness in the trial. Earlier within the
book, the author even interprets this promise (Gen 22:17) as the clearest possible demonstration of
the deity’s “own immutable counsel to those who would inherit the promise” (Heb 6:17). Rather
than superimposition, Hebrews appears to work from the contemporary assumption that “faith”
was demonstrated in the trial of the paradigmatic ancestor, a faith that is exemplified throughout
the generations and remains a compelling model for the author’s own community.
4. AFTERLIFE
The psychologizing of Abraham (and Isaac) is a repeated technique among ancient interpreters of
the trial. The grim storyline of Genesis leaves behind only hints of Abraham’s obedient state of
mind (“Here am I”), his attentiveness to his son (“Here am I”), Isaac’s own innocence (“But where
is the lamb?”), and the hope of return (“We shall return”).27 Ancient interpreters remained only
further intrigued, psychologizing Abraham, Isaac, and even the deity. Such psychologizations took
24
On the passage, see further J. L. Kugel, A Walk through Jubilees: Studies in the Book of Jubilees and the World of Its Creation,
JSJSup 156 (Leiden: Brill, 2012); M. Segal, The Book of Jubilees: Rewritten Bible, Redaction, Ideology and Theology, JSJSup
117 (Leiden: Brill, 2007).
25
F. García Martínez reads this specific line as a possible reference to Isaac’s faithfulness; “The Sacrifice of Isaac in 4Q225,”
55. Yet the witness preserved in 4Q226 frag. 7 line 1 makes Abraham’s faithfulness explicit.
26
Michel, Hebräerbrief, 401.
27
E. Auerbach, Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature, fiftieth-anniversary ed., trans. W. Trask
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2003), 7–12.
a variety of forms. The LXX redundantly highlights Abraham’s love for Isaac: “Take your beloved
son, whom you love, Isaac” (LXX Gen 22:2). On this basis, Philo psychologizes Abraham’s internal
triumph over natural-familial love (Abr. 169; cf. Josephus, Ant. 2.228, 231). Such love is often
expressed as sorrow regarding the sacrifice. Midrash Tanḥuma utilizes a secondary citation from Ps
126:6 to explain how Abraham went forth to sacrifice, “weeping, bearing precious seed,” indeed his
very “seed” Isaac (Gen 21:12; Vayera 4:39). Perhaps most dramatically, Genesis Rabbah recounts
that as Abraham took the knife, “the tears streamed from his eyes, and these tears, prompted by a
father’s compassion, dropped into Isaac’s eyes” (56:8).28
Hebrews, too, psychologizes the interior dimension of Abraham’s “faith.” Abraham approaches
the great trial, having reasoned within himself (logisamenos). In this case, however, Hebrews
highlights neither love nor sorrow, but Abraham’s faith in God’s power to resurrect the dead.
Abraham had reasoned that God would ultimately keep the promise—even if only by the extreme
measure of raising Isaac from the dead. Such faith simultaneously encompasses trust in the promises
already given, present obedience to the divine command, and hope in the deity’s power to raise
the dead.
Hebrews reiterates that “in a similitude,” “in a parable,” “in a manner of speaking” (en parabolē),
Abraham did, in fact, “receive” Isaac back (ekomisato) from the dead, as the trial relented. This
“figurative” reading of the trial operates on multiple levels that span Isaac’s conception, the present
trial, and the eschatological future. In the most immediate sense, Isaac’s own conception from
Abraham’s “mortified” body (nenekrōmenou) already presented a triumph over death (11:12; cf.
Rom 4:19). Through the use of literary double entendre (ekomisato), Abraham had both “acquired”
a son from death at his birth and yet also “received him back again”29 from death at the resolution
of the trial. The language of “receiving” the dead back again, in fact, is an idiom for afterlife in a
variety of contemporary sources. Josephus’s Essenes release their souls cheerfully in martyrdom, “as
though expecting to receive them back again” (palin komioumenoi) in an afterlife (J.W. 2.153–154;
cf. Ag. Ap. 2.218). In 2 Maccabees the martyrs expect to “receive” their mutilated bodies “back again”
(komisasthai) from the creator through resurrection (2 Macc 7:11; cf. 2 Bar. 50:2–3, 51:3; Pseudo-
Ps.-Phoc. 108; Justin, 1 Apol. 311).30 Later the exhortation itself will describe how women “received
their dead (back again) through a resurrection” (2 Macc 11:35). In Hebrews, the trial itself, thus,
comes to constitute a journey from death to resurrection, as Isaac is figuratively restored to life.
At least “in a parable,” Hebrews shares with some ancient sources that it was as though death had
been encountered in the trial.31 LAB insists that God regarded the mutual obedience of Abraham and
Isaac, as though it were a genuine sacrifice, going so far as to claim, “for his blood did I choose them
[e.g., Israel]” (LAB 18:5; cf. Num. Rab. 17:2, Mekilta de Rabbi Ishmael 7:78–82).32 While literal
28
Trans. Freedman, in Midrash Rabbah, ed. H. Freedman and M. Simon, 10 vols. (London: Soncino, 1961).
29
Cf. Euripides, Suppl. 273; Bacch. 1225; Philo, Ios. 210, 231.
30
C. D. Elledge, Resurrection of the Dead in Early Judaism, 200 BCE–CE 200 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017),
258–61.
31
See further Vermes, Scripture and Tradition, 204–6; and S. Spiegel, The Last Trial (New York: Schocken, 1969), 4.
32
On the passage, see also Huizenga, “The Aqedah at the End of the First Century,” 113–15; R. A. Clements, “Parallel Lives
of Early Jewish and Christian Texts and Art: The Case of Isaac the Martyr,” in New Approaches to the Study of Biblical
Interpretation in Judaism of the Second Temple Period and in Early Christianity: Proceedings of the Eleventh International
Symposium of the Orion Center for the Study of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Associated Literature, Jointly Sponsored by the
Hebrew University Center for the Study of Christianity, 9–11 January, 2007, ed. G. Anderson, R. Clements, and D. Satran,
death did not occur, it was as though obedience in the offering had shed blood. Even as Abraham
had fully intended to give Isaac “into the hands that gave you to me” (32:3), God recounts, “I gave
him back to his father” (LAB 18:5; ego autem reddidi eum patri suo). In Hebrews, too, Abraham
receives his son back again, as though it were from death itself, a “parable” of resurrection.
Faith to keep the promises, even across the chasm of death, resonates throughout the
exhortation.33 Interpreters have emphasized the importance of the trial story within Jewish and
Christian martyrology.34 While martyrdom is not explicitly featured in Hebrews 11:17–19, the
broader exhortation repeatedly demonstrates how faith encounters and transcends the powers
of death. Through his own faithful sacrifice, Abel, though dead, “still speaks” (11:4). Enoch is
“translated, so that he did not see death” (11:5). Isaac’s conception transpired through Abraham’s
“mortified” body (11:12; cf. Rom 4:19). Moses endures the threat of death, “for he looked ahead
unto (his) reward” (11:26).35 Through the activity of the prophets, “women received their dead
(back again) through a resurrection,” even as the martyrs reject immediate deliverance, “in hope
of a better resurrection” (11:35). Summarizing the faith of the ancestors, the author emphasizes
that “these all died” without literally receiving the fulfilment of all the promises (11:13; cf. 11:21–
22), the very point at which the review of scriptural history converges with the author’s present
(11:39–40).
Thus, Abraham’s faith that God will keep the divine promises even beyond death is an important
secondary theme that resonates throughout the historical review. The vivid exempla will, indeed,
demonstrate that the righteous “shall live by faith” (Heb 10:38; Hab 2:4), the very “faith” that
preserves one’s “life”/“soul” from destruction (10:39). Such an exhortation is deeply relevant to
the implied audience of Hebrews, which suffers present opposition and fearfully considers the
prospect of martyrdom, even if it has “not yet resisted to the point of blood in contending against
sin” (12:3–4). By trusting in resurrection beyond the agony of trial, Abraham provides a compelling
example to the Hebrews community amid its own present fears and endangerments.
Other ancient interpreters found faith in the afterlife exemplified in the trial, although their
logic for identifying it within Genesis 22 ranges broadly. As Josephus recasts the episode, Abraham
reveals directly to Isaac that his sacrifice will guarantee an everlasting divine favor.36 Psychologically,
Abraham anticipates how God will receive Isaac as an acceptable sacrifice into immortality within
the divine presence: “Amid prayers and sacrifice, he shall favorably accept (prosdechesthai) your
soul and hold it fast unto himself ” (Ant. 1.231).37 Josephus’s language for Isaac’s soul or life as
a sacrifice is also reflected in LAB (32:2–3; cf. 18:5, 40:3),38 where Isaac expresses wonder that
“the Lord has made the soul of a man worthy to be a sacrifice” (32:3). Jacobson and Swetnam
STDJ 106 (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 207–40 at 212–14; and B. N. Fisk, “Offering Isaac Again and Again: Pseudo-Philo’s Use of
the Aqedah as an Intertext,” CBQ 62 (2000): 481–507.
33
Bulley, “Death and Rhetoric.”
34
See, for example, Vermes, Scripture and Tradition, 198–204; Segal, “Jesus, Paul, and the Akedah,” 169–84; Clements,
“Parallel Lives,” 212–14; and Windisch, Hebräerbrief, 98.
35
M. R. D’Angelo, Moses in the Letter to the Hebrews, SBLDS 42 (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1979), 17–64.
36
On the passage, see further, L. H. Feldman, “Josephus’ Version of the Binding of Isaac,” in SBL 1982 Seminar Papers,
ed. K. Richards (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1982), 113; and Judaean Antiquities 1-4, ed. S. Mason, Flavius Josephus
Translation and Commentary 3 (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 88–95.
37
Cf. prosdechesthai in Ant. 1.98, 181; 3.191; 4.54; 6.25; 7.334; and 8.118.
38
Feldman, Judaean Antiquities 1-4, 91.
are persuaded that LAB implies a hypothetical afterlife for Isaac, as the sacrifice will become his
entrance into “life without limit and time without measure” (32:3; securam vitam et inmensurabile
tempus).39 For Josephus, Isaac’s soul will secure divine favor upon Abraham as an exchange for
his own life. While God relents, this psychologization certainly accentuates Abraham’s hope in
the afterlife, a feature of Jewish piety recurrently emphasized among Josephus’s works (Ag. Ap.
2.218–219; J.W. 1.650; 2.153–158, 163, 165; 3.372–376; 6.46–49; 7.343–349, 351–357; Ant.
17.354; 18.14, 16, 18). Hebrews takes an analogous approach to psychologizing Abraham, who
faces the agony of the trial through hope in resurrection.
What was the exegetical rationale for expanding the Genesis story with hope in the afterlife?
In Hebrews and Josephus, the answer is not immediately clear. At the very least, Hebrews and
Josephus operate with the assumption that hope in the afterlife was to be found within the Torah
(cf. b. Sanh. 90a).40 In Against Apion, Josephus implies that hope in the afterlife was taught by “the
lawgiver” Moses himself (Ag. Ap. 2.218; cf. J.W. 7.343).41 Nor would Hebrews have needed to
be original in this assumption, as the presence of resurrection within the Torah is also implicitly
assumed in both Pauline (Rom 4:16–17) and Synoptic (Mark 12:26–27 and par.) traditions.
The correspondence between Isaac’s miraculous birth “from one as good as dead” (Heb 11:12)
may provide some warrant for resurrection.42 The God who miraculously formed Isaac was also
able to resurrect him, a logic found throughout 2 Maccabees’ treatment of resurrection and
especially attested by the mother of the martyrs (7:22–29).43 Abraham, too, like the matriarch of the
martyrs, reasons his way toward hope in resurrection on the basis of Isaac’s conception. The entire
exhortation, in fact, begins by extoling “the divine word” (rhēmati theou), which miraculously
frames the entire creation “from things that are not visible” (11:3). This same creative word has
“spoken” to Abraham the undying promise of Gen 21:12, perhaps forming a correspondence
between creation and resurrection, a path well-traveled in 2 Maccabees (7:9, 11, 22–29), as well as
other early Jewish attestations to resurrection.44
Faith in the resurrection remained strong in aggadic reflection upon the Aqedah.45 The portrait
of the soul of Isaac literally ascending to God appears in a saying attributed to Pirqe Rabbi Eliezer.
While Josephus and LAB portray the heavenly ascent of Isaac’s soul as psychological aspiration, the
saying in Pirqe R. El. casts the possibility as an actual occurrence:
When the blade touched his neck, the soul of Isaac fled and departed, (but) when he heard His
voice from between the two Cherubim, saying (to Abraham), “Lay not your hand upon the lad,”
39
H. Jacobson, A Commentary on Pseudo-Philo’s Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum, with Latin Text and English Translation,
2 vols., AGJU 31 (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 2:864; and Swetnam, on the basis of LAB 18:3; Jesus and Isaac, 51–5, 83. Yet
certainty in this case is more difficult than in Josephus’s account. On the difficulties of the passage, see Fisk, “Pseudo-Philo’s
Use of the Aqedah,” 494–7; and Vermes, Scripture and Tradition, 199–201.
40
See further J. F. A. Sawyer, “Hebrew Words for Resurrection of the Dead,” VT 23 (1973): 218–34 at 227–8; and H.
Sysling, Teḥiyyat Ha-Metim: The Resurrection of the Dead in the Palestinian Targums of the Pentateuch and Parallel Traditions
in Classical Rabbinic Literature, TSAJ 57 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996).
41
N. T. Wright, Resurrection of the Son of God (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2003), 176–7.
42
Swetnam, Jesus and Isaac, 120–1.
43
On the relationship between the mother of the martyrs and Abraham, see further Spiegel, Last Trial, 13–16; Vermes,
Scripture and Tradition, 203–4.
44
Elledge, Resurrection, 114–20.
45
Spiegel, Last Trial, 30. In addition to these examples, see W. G. Braude and I. J. Kapstein, trans., Pĕsiḳta dĕ-Raḇ Kahăna
(Philadelphia, PA: JPS, 1975), Sup. I., 20, 459.
his soul returned to his body, and (Abraham) set him free, and Isaac stood upon his feet. And
Isaac knew that in this manner the dead in the future will be quickened. He opened (his mouth),
and said: “Blessed art thou, O Lord, who makes the dead alive.” (31)46
Something of an actual resurrection occurs, as the departed soul of Isaac returns to his body upon
hearing the divine word (cf. b. Ber. 60b). He then “stood upon his feet” as a living witness to
the hope of resurrection and uttered the words of the Second Benediction of the Amidah. The
exegesis further emphasizes this through allusion to Ezek 37:1–14, a text frequently associated with
resurrection and afterlife among ancient interpreters.47 Even as the reconstituted host of Ezekiel’s
vision “stood upon their feet” (wy‘mdw ‘l rglyhm), the rejuvenated Isaac, too, “stood upon his feet”
(w‘md yṣḥq ‘l rglyw) to bless the Lord. Isaac himself has learned through the Aqedah of God’s power
to resurrect the dead.
Some midrashim are more conscientious about linking resurrection with a clearer textual warrant
in Genesis 22. Pesiqta de Rab Kahana links Isaac’s own willingness to be sacrificed with Ps 102:21,
where God looks down “from heaven” (Ps 102:20, cf. Gen 22:11) “to hear to hear the groaning
of the one bound (’syr; cf. Ps 79:11, Gen 22:9), to set loose those appointed unto death”; thus,
through the merit of Isaac, “God will one day enliven the dead.”48 Genesis Rabbah 56:1–2 focuses
upon the language of the “third day” (Gen 22:4), when Abraham saw the mountain. Through
this phrase, secondary citations enhance the possible meanings of the story (Hos 6:2; Gen 42:18;
Exod 19:16; Josh 2:16; Jonah 2:1; Ezra 8:32; Esther 5:1). The “third day” of the trial anticipates
resurrection, as it is written in Hos 6:2, “After two days He will revive us, on the third he shall raise
us up, that we may live in his presence.” On the “third day,” Joseph “tested”/“proved” (Gen 42:16,
18) his brothers, commanding them, “Do this and live” (42:18). Jonah’s emergence from the fish
after “three days and three nights” (Jonah 2:1) was also a popular metaphor for resurrection among
ancient interpreters (see esp. 2:7). The “third day,” thus, invites associations between the Aqedah,
Israel’s subsequent history, and resurrection.
Elsewhere, Genesis Rabbah develops the recurrent pattern of “worship and return” (Gen 22:5).
In the midrash attributed to Rabbi Isaac, “Everything happened as a reward for worship” (Gen.
Rab. 56:2)—Abraham and Isaac “returned”; Israel was redeemed from Egypt (Exod 4:31) and
given the Torah (24:1); Hannah’s prayer was heard (1 Sam 1:19); the exiles were reassembled (Isa
27:13) and the temple was rebuilt (Ps 99:9): “The dead will come to life again only as a reward for
worshipping: ‘O come, let us worship and bend the knee; let us kneel before the Lord our maker’ ”
(Ps 95:6).49 Worshipping before “our maker” in the Psalm further anticipates the resurrected
existence that the creator will give. By applying the structural pattern of “worship and return”
(Gen 22:5), the midrash works its way throughout Israel’s entire history even unto the resurrection
of the dead. Thus, indeed, “everything” happened as a reward for worship.
From more dramatic psychological projections, to more textually based correlations, ancient
interpreters did find resurrection/afterlife within the trial. By psychologizing Abraham’s faith in
46
G. Friedlander, trans., Pirke de Rabbi Eliezer (London: Kegan Paul, 1916). Cf. Midr. Ha-Gadol on Gen 22:19; see also
Spiegel, Last Trial, 5–7.
47
Elledge, Resurrection, 74–6, 80–4, and 164–9.
48
Braude and Kapstein, PRK, Sup. I:20, 459; also found as Piska 31/32 among other editions.
49
Trans. Freedman, in Midrash Rabbah.
the resurrection, Hebrews joins Josephus as two first-century witnesses that found hope in the
afterlife in the agony of the trial, a relationship more elaborately developed among later sources. As
Abraham faithfully endured the trial, he looked to the resurrection with trust in God’s power, both
to keep the immutable divine promise and even to raise the dead if necessary. Amid the grievous
test of faith, as any hope of deliverance perished amid the knife, the wood, and the fire, it was as
though Isaac had indeed died; yet Abraham’s faith endured to “receive” his son back, as though
translated from death to life.
Perhaps Hebrews’ rationale for associating the trial with resurrection is not to be found in
a specific textual trigger in Genesis 22, but rather in the author’s more general approach to
interpretation. Abraham had received Isaac back from the dead as though in “a parable,” “type,”50
or “symbol”51 of something greater. Fundamental to the author’s exegetical assumptions is the
conviction that even as God had spoken to the ancestors in times past through prophets, the divine
word was now revealed “in these last days” by the Son (1:1–2).52 At virtually every turn, this
hermeneutical assumption invites comparisons between the divine word spoken in the past and
its culmination in the Christ now revealed “in these last days” (1:5–2:9, 3:1–6, 4:1–11, 5:1–10,
6:13–8:13, 9:1–28). Scholars continue to explore the complex possibilities for understanding these
arts of hermeneutical correspondence, in which “the Holy Spirit testifies unto us” through the
utterances and examples of the past (10:15; cf. 3:7).53
Indeed, parabolē expresses an exegetical awareness elsewhere in Hebrews.54 The tabernacle
Moses built in the wilderness was the “pattern,” “shadow,” “type,” or “correspondence” of the
heavenly sanctuary which he was shown at Mount Sinai (8:5, 9:23, 24; cf. 10:1, 12:18–24).
The tabernacle served as a “parable for the present age” (9:8), the very term that describes the
“figurative” resurrection that transpired in the trial. Within the exegetical methods of Hebrews,
then, there remains the possibility that the trial “in a parable” foreshadowed future realities, namely
the eschatological resurrection, a hope earlier designated as one of the “first” teachings of faith
(6:1). Readers disagree over how far this “parable” stretches: whether it simply exemplifies faith
in resurrection or whether Hebrews actually found Christ’s own death and resurrection prefigured
within the story (Rom 8:32; John 3:16; Barn. 7:3; Irenaeus, Haer. 4.5.4; Tertullian, Pat. 6; Adv.
Jud. 10).55 The question is further interrelated with the underlying historical problem of how fully
developed the martyrdom theology of the Aqedah had become by the first century.56
At least in the present case, Hebrews emphasizes Abraham’s own faith in the promise and God’s
power to keep it by raising the dead, a hope that was doubly confirmed in the original birth of
50
F. F. Bruce, The Epistle to the Hebrews, NICNT (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1990), 302; and G. L. Cockerill, The
Epistle to the Hebrews, NICNT (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2012), 557.
51
Attridge, Hebrews, 333; cf. Michel, “ein geheimnisvolles Sinnbild”; Hebräerbrief, 402.
52
Cockerill, Epistle to the Hebrews, 52–7; and S. E. Docherty, The Use of the Old Testament in Hebrews, WUNT II/260
(Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009).
53
Swetnam, Jesus and Isaac, 90–118; G. H. Guthrie, “Hebrews’ Use of the Old Testament: Recent Trends in Research,” CBR
1 (2003): 271–94; Bruce, Epistle to the Hebrews, 304–5; Attridge, Hebrews, 335; Cockerill, Epistle to the Hebrews, 557–8;
Clements, “Parallel Lives,” 214–17; Eisenbaum, Jewish Heroes, 162–3; and Barth, “Old Testament in Hebrews,” 53–78.
54
Michel, Hebräerbrief, 402–3.
55
Bruce, Epistle to the Hebrews, 304–5; Attridge, Hebrews, 335; Cockerill, Epistle to the Hebrews, 557–8; Clements,
“Parallel Lives,” 214–17; Eisenbaum, Jewish Heroes, 162–3; and Swetnam, Jesus and Isaac; Michel, Hebräerbrief, 401–3.
56
On this problem, see Vermes, Scripture and Tradition; Davies and Chilton, “The Akedah,” 514–46; Segal, “Jesus, Paul, and
the Akedah,” 169–84; and Huizenga, “The Akedah at the End of the First Century,” 114–17.
Isaac (11:12) and in receiving him back again through the trial (11:19). There are, however, no
explicitly Christological elements within the passage, even if the author encourages one to seek
out the underlying “parable” hidden within scripture. The author of Hebrews, thus, leaves the
matter at a liminal point that is at once highly suggestive, yet unresolved. And that is precisely
where Abraham’s faith should rest, if indeed the ancestors died in faith, trusting in the promises,
yet only having seen them “from a distance” (Heb 11:13), if indeed faith is a “substance of things
hoped for” (11:1). In this sense, Abraham’s faith in the resurrection operates in a sequentially
intermediate domain, after the initial utterance of the immutable divine promise, yet prior to its
realization in Christ’s own triumph beyond death (12:2).
By reading the trial as a “parable” of future realities, however, Hebrews yet again reflects the
exegetical tendencies of its age. Jubilees takes pains to associate the trial calendrically with the future
Passover sacrifice (and the Festival of Unleavened Bread), as well as the exodus, in which the blood
of the Passover sacrifice will drive away Prince Mastema from Israel.57 Jubilees also joins Josephus
in identifying “the mountain of the Lord” (Gen 22:14) as Mount Zion in Jerusalem (Jub. 18:13),
where “King David later built the temple” (Josephus, Ant. 1.226; 7.333).58 In an interpretation
attributed to Hanina ben Dosa, the ram of the sacrifice (Gen 22:13), created upon the first Sabbath
eve of creation, left behind nothing useless. Its ashes would form the base of the temple altar; its
sinews, the harp of David; its skin, the girdle of Elijah; its left horn would be blown at Mount Sinai;
its right horn, blasted at the dawn of the world to come (Isa 27:13; Pirqe R. El. 31; cf. Lev. Rab.
29:10). Elsewhere, even the donkey of the Aqedah (Gen 22:3) was the same that Moses would ride
into Egypt (Exod 4:20) and that the Son of David would ride in the messianic era (Zech 9:9; Pirqe
R. El. 31). For these interpreters, history itself, in all its glory and suffering, could be prefigured in
the trial. The author of Hebrews, too, interprets the trial proleptically, as he recasts the story into
a “parable” of his own community’s present suffering and future hope.
Interpretation was, and remains, a “crucible” within which faith is continually refined from age
to age. We remain indebted to Charlesworth for instructing his generation in the riches that are
continually burning within it.
5. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Attridge, Harold W. The Epistle to the Hebrews: A Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews. Edited by H.
Koester. Hermeneia. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1989.
Attridge, Harold W., T. Elgvin, J. Milik, S. Olyan, J. Strugnell, E. Tov, J. VanderKam, and S. White, in
consultation with J. C. VanderKam. Qumran Cave 4.VIII: Parabiblical Texts, Part I. Discoveries in the
Judaean Desert 13. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994.
Auerbach, Erich. Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature. Fiftieth-anniversary ed.
Translated by W. Trask. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2003.
Barth, Markus. “The Old Testament in Hebrews: An Essay in Biblical Hermeneutics.” Pages 53–78 in Current
Issues in New Testament Interpretation: Essays in Honour of Otto A. Piper. Edited by W. Klassen and G.
Snyder. London: SCM, 1962.
Braude, William G., and Israel J. Kapstein, trans. Pĕsiḳta dĕ-Raḇ Kahăna. Philadelphia, PA: Jewish Publication
Society of America, 1975.
57
Cf. Mekilta de Rabbi Ishmael, Pisḥa 7:79–82, 11:96, Beshallaḥ 2:173, 4:30–35; and Clements, “Parallel Lives,” 217.
58
Feldman, “Josephus’ Version,” 119. Cf. Fragment Targum, Gen 22:14; and Vermes, Scripture and Tradition, 197.
Bruce, F. F. The Epistle to the Hebrews. New International Commentary on the New Testament. Eerdmans: Grand
Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1990.
Buber, Solomon. Midrash Tanḥuma. Translated by J. Townsend. Jersey City, NJ: Ktav, 2003.
Bulley, Alan D. “Death and Rhetoric in the Hebrews ‘Hymn to Faith’.” Studies in Religion 25 (1996): 409–23.
Charlesworth, J. H., ed. Apocalyptic Literature and Testaments. Vol. 1 of The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha.
Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1983.
Charlesworth, J. H., ed. Expansions of the “Old Testament” and Legends, Wisdom and Philosophical Literature,
Prayers Psalms, and Odes, Fragments of Lost Judaeo-Hellenistic Works. Vol. 2 of The Old Testament
Pseudepigrapha. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1985.
Charlesworth, J. H. “In the Crucible: The Pseudepigrapha as Biblical Interpretation.” Pages 20–43 in The
Pseudepigrapha and Early Biblical Interpretation. Edited by J. Charlesworth and C. Evans. Journal for
the Study of the Pseudepigrapha Supplement 14. Studies in Scripture in Early Judaism and Christianity
2. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993.
Clements, Ronald E. “The Use of the Old Testament in Hebrews.” Scottish Journal of Theology 28 (1985): 36–45.
Clements, Ruth A. “Parallel Lives of Early Jewish and Christian Texts and Art: The Case of Isaac the Martyr.”
Pages 207–40 in New Approaches to the Study of Biblical Interpretation in Judaism of the Second Temple
Period and in Early Christianity. Edited by G. Anderson, R. Clements, and D. Satran. Studies on the Texts
of the Desert of Judah 106. Leiden: Brill, 2013.
Cockerill, Gareth L. The Epistle to the Hebrews. New International Commentary on the New Testament.
Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2012.
Cosby, Michael. The Rhetorical Composition and Function of Hebrews 11: In light of Example Lists in
Antiquity. Macon, GA: Mercer, 1988.
Crawford, Sidney. Rewriting Scripture in Second Temple Times. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2008.
D’Angelo, Mary Rose. Moses in the Letter to the Hebrews. Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series 42.
Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1979.
Davies, Paul R., and Bruce D. Chilton. “The Akedah: A Revised Tradition History.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly
40 (1978): 514–46.
Docherty, Susan E. The Use of the Old Testament in Hebrews. Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen
Testament 2, 260. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009.
Eisenbaum, Pamela. The Jewish Heroes of Christian History: Hebrews 11 in Literary Context. Society of
Biblical Literature Dissertation Series 156. Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1997.
Elledge, C. D. Resurrection of the Dead in Early Judaism, 200 BCE–CE 200. Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2017.
Feldman, Louis H. “Josephus’ Version of the Binding of Isaac.” Pages 113–28 in Society of Biblical Literature
1982 Seminar Papers. Edited by K. Richards. Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1982.
Feldman, Louis H. Judaean Antiquities 1–4. Edited by S. Mason. Flavius Josephus Translation and Commentary
3. Leiden: Brill, 2000.
Fisk, Bruce N. “Offering Isaac Again and Again: Pseudo-Philo’s Use of the Aqedah as an Intertext.” Catholic
Biblical Quarterly 62 (2000): 481–507.
Freedman, H., and M. Simon, eds. Midrash Rabbah. 10 vols. London: Soncino, 1961.
Friedlander, Gerald. Pirke de Rabbi Eliezer. London: Kegan Paul, 1916.
Garíca Martínez, Florentino. “The Sacrifice of Isaac in 4Q225.” Pages 44–57 in The Sacrifice of Isaac: The
Aqedah (Genesis 22) and its Interpretations. Edited by E. Noort and E. Tigchelaar. Themes in Biblical
Narrative 4. Leiden: Brill, 2002.
Guthrie, George H. “Hebrews’ Use of the Old Testament: Recent Trends in Research.” Currents in Biblical
Research 1 (2003): 271–94.
Huizenga, Leroy A. “The Aqedah at the End of the First Century of the Common Era: Liber Antiquitatum
Biblicarum, 4 Maccabees, Josephus’ Antiquities, 1 Clement.” Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha
20 (2010): 105–33.
Jacobson, Howard. A Commentary on Pseudo-Philo’s Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum, with Latin Text and
English Translation. 2 vols. Arbeiten zur Geschichte des antiken Judentums und des Urchristentums 31.
Leiden: Brill, 1996.
Kister, Menahem. “Observations on Aspects of Exegesis, Tradition, and Theology in Midrash, Pseudepigrapha,
and Other Jewish Writings.” Pages 1–34 in Tracing the Threads: Studies in the Vitality of Jewish Pseudepigrapha.
Edited by J. Reeves. SBL Early Judaism and its Literature 6. Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1994.
Kugel, James L. A Walk through Jubilees: Studies in the Book of Jubilees and the World of Its Creation. Journal
for the Study of Judaism Supplement 156. Leiden: Brill, 2012.
Michel, Otto. Der Brief an die Hebräer. Meyers Kommentar 13. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1966.
Sawyer, John F. A. “Hebrew Words for Resurrection of the Dead.” Vetus Testamentum 23 (1973): 218–34.
Segal, Alan F. “ ‘He Who Did Not Spare His Own Son …’ Jesus, Paul, and the Akedah.” Pages 169–84 in From
Jesus to Paul: Studies in Honour of Francis Wright Beare. Edited by P. Richardson and J. Hurd. Waterloo,
ON: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1984.
Segal, Michael. The Book of Jubilees: Rewritten Bible, Redaction, Ideology and Theology. Journal for the Study
of Judaism Supplement 117. Leiden: Brill, 2007.
Skehan, Patrick W., and Alexander A. Dilella. The Wisdom of Ben Sira. Anchor Bible 39. Garden City,
Spiegel, Shalom. The Last Trial. New York: Schocken, 1969.
Swetnam, James. Jesus and Isaac: A Study of the Epistle to the Hebrews in the Light of the Aqedah. Analecta
biblica 94. Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1981.
Sysling, Harry. Teḥiyyat Ha-Metim: The Resurrection of the Dead in the Palestinian Targums of the Pentateuch
and Parallel Traditions in Classical Rabbinic Literature. Texte und Studien zum antiken Judentum 57.
Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996.
VanderKam, James C. “The Aqedah, Jubilees, and pseudo-Jubilees.” Pages 241–61 in The Quest for Context
and Meaning: Studies in Biblical Intertextuality in Honor of James A. Sanders. Edited by C. Evans and S.
Talmon. Leiden: Brill, 1997.
Vermes, Geza. Scripture and Tradition in Judaism. Leiden: Brill, 1974.Windisch, Hans. Hebräerbrief. 2nd ed.
Handbuch zum Neuen Testament 14. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1931.
Windisch, Hans. Hebräerbrief. 2nd ed. Handbuch zum Neuen Testament 14. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1931.
Wright, N. T. Resurrection of the Son of God. Christian Origins and the Question of God 3. Minneapolis,
MN: Fortress Press, 2003.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Etymology of ‫ בליעל‬Once

Again: A Case of Tabooistic
Deformation?
BRENT A. STRAWN
The word (and figure of) ‫בליעל‬/bĕlıyaʿal, “Belial,” features prominently in the Qumran literature and
beyond.1 This point is well known and uncontroversial. What is much less clear and far from certain,
however, is the precise etymology of the term.2 The present study returns to this issue so as to offer
a new possibility that has not, to my knowledge, been considered in prior publications: namely, that
I wish to say that it is a true pleasure to offer this study to one of my greatest teachers and friends, the Rev. Dr. James
Hamilton Charlesworth, George L. Collord Professor of New Testament Language and Literature Emeritus at Princeton
Theological Seminary. I first learned of Belial in his class on the Dead Sea Scrolls—and that was just one item from the vast
treasure trove of Second Temple Judaism that he opened up to me in a way that changed my life forever. The present essay
is thus a very small token of my gratitude for his kindness to, and influence upon, me for more than twenty-five years. I am
grateful to Justin Pannkuk and Collin Cornell for their comments on an earlier draft, and also thank Carl Holladay for his
assistance and the editors for their support. I thank John Huehnergard for first introducing me to tabooistic deformation
many years ago in an entirely different context and thank him once again for bibliographic assistance in the case of the
present study.
1
For Qumran, see the earlier treatments by H. W. Huppenbauer, “Belial in den Qumrantexten,” ThZ 15 (1959): 81–9; H.
Kosmala, “The Three Nets of Belial (A Study in the Terminology of Qumran and the New Testament),” ASTI 4 (1965): 90–
113; and P. von der Osten-Sacken, Gott und Belial: Traditionsgeschichtlich Untersuchungen zum Dualismus in den Texten aus
Qumran, SUNT 6 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1969). For more recent treatments, see S. Thomas, “‫ ּבְ לִ ַּיעַל‬belijjaʿal
‫ ּבָ לַע‬III bālaʿ,” ThWQ 1:452–7; M. Mach, “Demons,” in EDSS 1:189–92; C. Martone, “Evil or Devil? Belial between the
Bible and Qumran,” Hen 26 (2004): 115–27; D. Dimant, “Between Qumran Sectarian and Non-Sectarian Texts: The Case
of Belial and Mastema,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls and Contemporary Culture: Proceedings of the International Conference
Held in the Israel Museum, Jerusalem (July 6–8, 2008), ed. A. D. Roitman, L. H. Schiffman, and S. Tzoref, STDJ 93
(Leiden: Brill, 2011), 235–56; A. Steudel, “God and Belial,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls Fifty Years after Their Discovery, ed.
L. H. Schiffman, E. Tov, and J. C. VanderKam (Jerusalem: Israel Museum, 2000), 332–40; A. Steudel, “Der Teufel in den
Texten aus Qumran,” in Apokalyptic und Qumran, ed. J. Frey and M. Becker, Einblicke 10 (Paderborn: Bonifatius, 2007),
191–200; and M. T. Brand, Evil Within and Without: The Source of Sin and Its Nature as Portrayed in Second Temple
Literature, JAJSup 9 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2013), esp. 218–56. For the OTP, see, e.g., T. Reu. 4:7, 11;
6:3; T. Sim. 5:3; T. Levi 3:3; 18:12; 19:1; T. Jud. 25:3; T. Iss. 6:1; 7:7; T. Zeb. 9:8; T. Dan 1:7; 4:7; 5:1, 10–11; T. Naph.
2:6; 3:1; T. Ash. 1:8; 3:2; 6:4; T. Jos. 7:4; 20:2; T. Benj. 3:3–4, 8; 6:1, 7; 7:1–2; Mart. Ascen. Isa. 1:8–9; 2:4; 3:11, 13;
4:2, 4, 16, 18; 5:1, 15; Liv. Pro. 4:6, 20 (Daniel); 17:2 (Nathan); Jub. 1:20; 15:33; Sib. Or. 3:63–4. For the NT, see 2 Cor
6:15 (βελιάρ). For still later periods, see N. H. Ott, Rechtspraxis und Heilsgeschichte: Zu Überlieferung, Ikonographie und
Gebrauchssituation des deutschen “Belial” (München: Artemis Verlag, 1983).
2
See, e.g., HALOT 1:133: “etym[ology] unc[ertain]”; Steudel, “God and Belial,” 332 n.3: “The etymological origin of the
name Belial is still obscure”; and TDOT 2:131: “etymology … uncertain and debated.”
bĕlıyaʿal—whatever its specific derivation(s)—is the result of the linguistic phenomenon known as
tabooistic deformation. After a review of the main etymologies that have been offered in previous
literature (Section 1), I provide a brief overview of tabooistic deformation (Section 2). I then
entertain bĕlıyaʿal as a possible instance of such (Section 3) before considering, in conclusion, what
this explanation of bĕlıyaʿal might mean more generally for its various occurrences (Section 4).
1. PREVIOUS ETYMOLOGIES OF B Ĕ LI YAʿAL

In his article on bĕlıyaʿal for the Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible, S. David Sperling
has reviewed the main options for understanding the word’s etymology.3 The present discussion
depends heavily on Sperling’s treatment, though I round out some bits of his work here and there
and abbreviate still others.
We may begin with what is probably the first etymology of bĕlıyaʿal ever offered: that of the
rabbis in b. Sanh. 111b, who considered bĕlıyaʿal to be the equivalent of bĕlı ʿōl, “without a yoke.”
More specifically, then, bĕlıyaʿal referred to “children who have thrown off the Yoke of Heaven
from their necks.” Regardless of the wordplay or pun, it is quite common to see in bĕlıyaʿal some
form of the negative particle bal/bĕlı conjoined with some other term. This makes bĕlıyaʿal a
compound word—an otherwise rare phenomenon.4 Examples of this interpretation include that
of the medieval philosopher and poet Judah Halevi, who took bĕlıyaʿal to be bĕlı with the third-
person imperfect jussive of √ʿlh so as to understand the word as “a wish or prayer that malevolence
should not prosper.”5 Much later, in the twentieth century, Johannes Pedersen argued that the term
combined bĕlî with the root √yʿl, “one of the denominations of positive action: to carry through a
good, normal action,” which in this particular case, with the negative particle, would be denied.6
A few decades later, a duo of noted Hebrew Bible scholars, Frank Moore Cross and David Noel
Freedman, advocated a similar idea for the instance of bĕlıyaʿal that appears in 2 Sam 22:5 // Ps
18:5: namely, that the wicked are those that “do not ascend” (negation + an apocopated form of
the prefix-conjugation of √ʿlh)—which is to say, in the literary context (as Cross and Freedman
understood it), the wicked “do not ascend” from the underworld (‫)מות‬.7 But in J. A. Emerton’s
3
S. D. Sperling, “Belial,” in DDD2, 169–71. See also HALOT 1:133–4; T. J. Lewis, “Belial,” in ABD 1.654–6; and Steudel,
“God and Belial,” 332 n.3. For other studies, some quite thorough, see, e.g., W. Baudissin, “The Original Meaning of
‘Belial,’ ” ExpT 9/1 (1897): 40–5; T. Stenhouse, “Baal and Belial,” ZAW 33 (1913): 295–305; and esp. D. W. Thomas,
“‫ ּבְ לִ ַּיעַל‬in the Old Testament,” in Biblical and Patristic Studies: In Memory of Robert Pierce Casey, ed. J. N. Birdsall and R.
W. Thomson (Freiburg: Herder, 1963), 11–19.
4
J. Blau, Phonology and Morphology of Biblical Hebrew, LSAWS 2 (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2010), 158: the
only “real exceptions in the Semitic languages are proper nouns … and pronouns.” Blau does, however, mention ‫בליעל‬,
“ ‘worthlessness,’ presumably composed of ‫‘ ּבְ לִ י‬without’ and ‫‘ * ַיעַל‬worth’ ” (ibid.). Most recent commentators do not believe
‫ צלמות‬in Ps 23:4 is a compound, though Ugaritic blmt (“immortality”) is still often understood as such. Baudissin argues that
“the negative bĕlî was really present from the first, and was not … first found there as the consequence of the understanding
of a later age” (“Original Meaning,” 44).
5
Sperling, “Belial,” 169.
6
J. Pedersen, Israel: Its Life and Culture, vols. I–II, 2nd ed. (London: Oxford University Press, 1959), 430; see also the
associated note on ibid., 539 where he writes: “there is no reason to look for other explanations.” Cf. HALOT 1:133: “(b)
‫ ּבְ לִ י‬+ *‫‘ )עלה( ַיעַל‬without growth, without success.’ ”
7
F. M. Cross Jr. and D. N. Freedman, Studies in Ancient Yahwistic Poetry (1975; repr. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997 [the
idea was first published in JBL 72 (1953): 15–34, here 22 n.6]), 97 n.6: *bal(i) yaʿl(ê) = “(place from which) none arises.”
A variant is the theory that would take the verb as Hiphil with bĕlıyaʿal meaning “he who does not allow coming up (from
THE ETYMOLOGY OF ‫ בליעל‬ONCE AGAIN 45
opinion, no one rises from the underworld in ancient Israelite conceptions, including the righteous;
hence, such an interpretation of bĕlıyaʿal isn’t very helpful and is likely wrong.8 Recent scholarship
on notions of death and the afterlife, however, suggests that Emerton’s strong judgment may require
nuancing;9 perhaps Cross and Freedman’s idea is not without merit.
If one avoids the idea that bĕlıyaʿal combines bal/bĕlı with a verb, whether from √ʿlh or √yʿl,10
there are still other options for taking the term as a compound, just with a noun instead of a verb. So,
for example, N. H. Tur-Sinai thought bĕlıyaʿal meant “wickedness,” and was the negative particle
coupled with a noun cognate of Arabic waʿala, “honor.”11 Sperling states that “this ingenious solution
does not carry conviction because … waʿala … is not the common Arabic word for ‘honour.’ ”12
Sperling himself sides with Pedersen, believing that the “most likely explanation of the term derives
it from the negation bĕlı followed by a noun *yaʿal, related to the root YʿL ‘to be worthy, to be
of value.’ ”13 Sperling notes constructions such as bal-yȏʿılȗ, “they do no good,” and lĕbiltî hôʿîl,
“it does no good,” which are used of idols in Isa 44:9–10. Sperling also observes that “forms of
the verb YʿL preceded by the negation lōʾ synonymous with bal, are used regularly to characterize
foreign gods (1 Sam 12:21; Isa 44:9; Jer 2:8, 11; 16:19) as well as idol manufacturers (Isa 44:10;
cf. Hab 2:18) and false prophets (Jer 23:32).”14 While insightful, one problem that obtains for this
interpretation (and other nominal options) is that it must posit an otherwise unattested noun: the
hypothetical *yaʿal meaning “worth, use, profit.”15
There are still other explanations of bĕlıyaʿal, such as those that do not understand the term
as a compound, but derive it from one word only: typically √blʿ, “to swallow,” with the specific
morphology explained by appeal to the occasional use of afformative-lamed in words like karmel
(“Carmel,” from √krm), gibʿōl (“bud,” from √gbʿ), and ʿărāpel (“deep darkness,” from √ʿrp).16
the dead)”—presumably referring to a deity of some sort. So it is that some have argued for a relationship between bĕlıyaʿal
and “the Babylonian Bililu [or Belili], goddess of the underworld.” These two theories are rather incommensurate, of course,
since the verbal form (if it is that) is masculine and thus not applicable to a goddess. For a rebuttal of the goddess possibility,
see Baudissin, “Original Meaning,” 40–1.
8
J. A. Emerton, “Sheol and the Sons of Belial,” in Studies on the Language and Literature of the Bible: Selected Works of
J.A. Emerton, ed. G. Davies and R. Gordon; VTSup 165 (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 97–100 (originally published in VT 37
[1987]: 214–17). Cf. already and earlier, Thomas, “‫ּבְ לִ ַּיעַל‬,” 16 (citing still earlier literature).
9
J. D. Levenson, Resurrection and the Restoration of Israel: The Ultimate Victory of the God of Life (New Haven,
CT: Yale University Press, 2006); and C. B. Hays, Death in the Iron Age II and in First Isaiah, FAT 1/79 (Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 2011).
10
In Thomas’s opinion, “the use of belî as a negation of a verb is rare” (“‫ּבְ לִ ַּיעַל‬,” 16). See also G. R. Driver, “Hebrew Notes,”
ZAW 52 (1934): 51–6, esp. 52–3.
11
N. H. Tur-Sinai, “‫בליעל‬,” in EncMiqr 2.132–3; cited in Sperling, “Belial,” 170.
12
Sperling, “Belial,” 170. Another unlikely derivation links bĕlıyaʿal with Arabic balaǵa, “denounce,” for which see Lewis,
“Belial,” 655.
13
Sperling, “Belial,” 170. So also Steudel, “God and Belial,” 332 n.3 and HALOT 1:133: “‫ ּבְ לִ י‬+ ‫‘ … ַיעַל‬useless.’ ” Cf.
BDB 116.
14
15
No such term is attested in Hebrew “nor any other Semitic language” according to Thomas, “‫ּבְ לִ ַּיעַל‬,” 16. The comparable
nouns yaʿēl and yaʿălāh/yaʿălāʾ/yaʿlāh all mean “mountain goat,” which has led some to offer “lord of goats” (‫ יעל‬+ ‫ )בעל‬as a
possible etymology (see ibid.).
16
See HALOT 1:133–4: “swallower, abyss,” citing Thomas, “‫ּבְ לִ ַּיעַל‬,” esp. 18–19. But, this time citing Driver, “Hebrew
Notes,” 52–3, HALOT 1:133 also offers “*ַ‫( ּבָ לִ יע‬III ‫ )בלע‬+ afformative ‫‘ ל‬disorder.’ ” Stenhouse, “Baal and Belial,” 299,
posits that bĕlıyaʿal might be based on a diminutive form *bulıʿ, to which a ‫ ל‬was added: *bulıʿal then went through vowel
reduction to arrive at bĕlıyaʿal. He believes this vocalization dates to the sixth or seventh century ad, and entertains “an
intentional metathesis” from ‫ בעל‬to ‫( בלע‬300).
Sperling rejects any relationship with √blʿ because bĕlıyaʿal has consistently negative connotations
while some passages in the Hebrew Bible indicate that Yhwh himself can be a “swallower” (see
Ps 55:10; Job 2:3).17 Swallowing, in and of itself, that is, may not have negative connotations.
Regardless of that, a larger problem with this understanding—beyond the use of afformative lamed,
a not particularly common morpheme—is that the vocalization in the Masoretic Text (MT) is odd,
with doubled yod, indicating a long vowel and the presence of a consonant. The presumed nominal
pattern, *qĕṭıyal-al (?), is highly unusual and (again) otherwise unattested.18
These, then, are the main options for the etymology of bĕlıyaʿal. Before concluding this section,
it should be recalled that postbiblical literature often uses Belial as the proper name of the Devil
though the spelling can be varied.19 In the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, for example, the specific
form is usually Beliar or, once, Belior. The latter spelling may be a pun itself, this time bĕlı + ʾȏr,
“lacking light,” because “Belial’s is the way of darkness.”20 The former spelling is found in the one
instance of the term in the New Testament, in 2 Cor 6:15 (Βελιάρ)21 and in the Harklensian Syriac
version of the same verse. The usual explanation of either spelling with r as opposed to bĕlıyaʿal,
with l, is to appeal to the phonetic relationship between these two liquid consonants.22 There
is, however, another explanation: that the Greek and Syriac spellings are both possible cases of
tabooistic deformation of bĕlıyaʿal, which takes us directly to the topic of the next section.
But first to conclude the present one: there is no consensus as to the etymological derivation of
bĕlıyaʿal though there is some general agreement on at least the following two points:
(1) bĕlıyaʿal is likely a compound, the first part of which is the negative particle (‫ ;בל)י‬and
(2) bĕlıyaʿal may be a pun of some sort or, at least, seems to be used in punning ways.
To be sure, these two points do not always and need not necessarily go together. For example, one
may hold to the second and believe that the first is wrong, positing another (third) explanation
altogether:
(3) bĕlıyaʿal is not a compound term at all, but is instead derived from √blʿ with afformative l.
It is clear that (1) and (3) are mutually exclusive, though (2) is somewhat independent and could be
associated with either (1) or (3), or with neither. There is, however, another possible explanation—
not a new etymological derivation per se, so much as a kind of meta-explanation that might be able
17
18
Cf. J. Fox, Semitic Noun Patterns, HSM 52 (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2003); and J. L. Sagarin, Hebrew Noun
Patterns (Mishqalim): Morphology, Semantics, and Lexicon (Atlanta, GA: Scholars, 1987). The closest things get is Sagarin’s
last mishqal (no. 196): ‫קְ טַ לְ טָ ל‬, qĕṭalṭāl, which he defines as “a mishqal of quinquiliterals and diminutive nouns” (147; cf. note
16 above for Stenhouse’s opinion that bĕlıyaʿal is a diminutive). Hence: ‫ ְזנַבְ נָב‬, “small tail”; ‫זְקַ נְ קָ ן‬, “small beard”; and ‫ּכְ לַבְ לָב‬,
“puppy” (ibid.). Still, the internal –îy– in bĕlıyaʿal remains unexplained (but see further Section 3). For his part, Driver,
“Hebrew Notes,” 53, affirms a morphology with afformative lamed, and thinks the original vocalization might have been
belāʿal (qetālal) or belîʿal (qetîlal). Cf. Thomas, “‫ּבְ לִ ַּיעַל‬,” 17–18; Emerton, “Sheol,” 97.
19
Sperling, “Belial,” 170; and Lewis, “Belial,” 655.
20
Sperling, “Belial,” 170. For a recent study on Beliar in the Pseudepigrapha, see M. Kusio, “The Origin of Beliar in Sibylline
Oracle 3.63: A New Proposal,” JSP 29 (2020): 168–83.
21
But note the variants listed in NA28: Βελιαν, Βελιαβ, and Βελιαλ.
22
For the Greek, see BDAG 139. For the Syriac, note HALOT 1:133, which says it is “dissimilated,” citing C. Brockelmann,
Grundriss der vergliechenden Grammatik der semitischen Sprachen, 2 vols. (repr. Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1961), 1.229.
to account for all three of the above and yet still others. This fourth (4) meta-explanation is to see
in bĕlıyaʿal a case of tabooistic deformation.
2. TABOOISTIC DEFORMATION
Taboo words are a well-documented linguistic phenomenon wherein, for various social reasons,
a linguistic community stops uttering a particular word. P. H. Matthews defines a taboo term as
one “known to speakers but avoided in some, most, or all forms or contexts of speech, for reasons
of religion, decorum, politeness, etc.” Such words are “accordingly replaced … by a metaphor,
euphemism, or some other figurative or roundabout expression.”23 R. L. Trask lines out a list of
tabooed items: “terms pertaining to sex, excretion, death or parts of the body, names of divinities
and religious figures, names of deceased persons, names of animals regarded as sacred or awe-
inspiring, and indeed almost anything which a particular society comes to object to.”24
The taboo nature of the word in question means that it either disappears altogether (tabooistic
avoidance) or is changed—distorted somehow—so as to avoid pronouncing it (tabooistic
deformation).25 Trask describes the latter strategy as “an arbitrary alteration in the form of an
offensive word … [which is called] taboo deformation or hlonipha; examples are sheesh for ‘shit,’
gosh for ‘God’ and heck for ‘hell.’ ”26 Hans Heinrich Hock notes that this kind of change is not
just arbitrary, it is quite deliberate; in his terms, “a deliberate alteration of the segmental structure
of a tabooed word.”27 Not surprisingly, the changes that are made to the word’s structure “may
considerably alter the phonetic shape of tabooed lexical items.”28 And so, Hock continues, “since
this type of distortion is dependent on the nonphonetic, semantic notion of taboo, it cannot
possibly apply with the regularity of purely phonetically conditioned sound change.”29 That is to
say that, unlike most other types of linguistic change (phonological or otherwise), tabooistic change
of whatever kind is neither regular nor predictable. This fact is important as it complicates, if not
precludes, linguistic reconstruction of taboo terms—particularly of their possible or putative non-
tabooed originals.30
Even this very brief overview of tabooistic deformation is suggestive for bĕlıyaʿal, but before
describing some of the major points of contact (Section 3), it should be noted that tabooistic
deformation is attested in ancient and modern Semitic languages, from Akkadian to Ethiopic to Arabic
to Hebrew, as M. M. Bravmann, among others, has shown.31 As but one example from Classical
23
P. H. Matthews, The Oxford Concise Dictionary of Linguistics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 399.
24
R. L. Trask, The Dictionary of Historical and Comparative Linguistics (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2000),
338; he mentions English euphemisms like pass away for “die” and make love for “copulate.”
25
See A. Arlotto, Introduction to Historical Linguistics (Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin, 1972), 200–4, for the twin processes
of disappearance and distortion.
26
Trask, Dictionary, 338 (his emphases). For hlonipha, see ibid., 152.
27
H. H. Hock, Principles of Historical Linguistics, 2nd ed. (Berlin: Gruyter, 1991), 50–1.
28
Ibid., 303.
29
Ibid., 51.
30
Cf. ibid., 303: “Since linguistic reconstruction crucially depends on the establishment of lexical cognates, such tabooistic
replacement or distortion may considerably or even severely limit our ability to reconstruct.” See further ibid., 303–5, for
tabooistic distortion being the likely cause that prohibits a proper reconstruction of the Proto-Indo-European word for “tongue.”
31
M. M. Bravmann, “Semitic Instances of ‘Linguistic Taboo,’ ” in M. M. Bravmann, Studies in Semitic Philology, SSLL 6
(Leiden: Brill, 1977), 465–82. Many of the instances of taboo formulations Bravmann discusses have to do with serving
Hebrew, tabooistic deformation may be at work in some of the names used for “lion” (panthera leo
or panthera leo persicus) found in the Hebrew Bible, especially in the unexplained alteration between
ʾaryēh and ʾărî.32 One might compare more proximately, beyond Semitic, the German (Bär) and Slavic
(medvedi) terms for “bear,” which meant, respectively, “the brown one” and “the honey-eater.” Both
words appear to be the result of tabooistic deformation, presumably out of hunters’ respect or fear
of the animal, since the Proto-Indo-European term was probably originally something like *arktos.33
Obviously related to tabooistic deformation, therefore—if not simply alternative terms for the same
phenomenon—are euphemism and dysphemism, also well documented in the Bible.34 Whatever the
language and whichever the subject, the practice of tabooistic deformation is “extremely interesting
because it reflects the values of a particular speech community.”35
3. B Ĕ LI YAʿAL AS A CASE OF TABOOISTIC DEFORMATION

In light of the linguistic data pertaining to taboo, we may return to the particular problem of
bĕlıyaʿal in order to reexamine it as a possible case of tabooistic deformation.
1. We might begin with the point made earlier that tabooistic deformation greatly complicates
reconstructing the original term. This observation could nicely explain the considerable number of
different (and conflicting) etymologies that have been offered by scholars heretofore. I will return
to this matter below.
2. Next, it should be emphasized that religious topics are among those most frequently subjected
to tabooistic deformation. Linguists like Hock mention taboos against “taking the Lord’s name in
vain,” per the Third Commandment (in Christian numeration), noting deformational examples
like: “Goodness gracious! Doggone it! What in tarnation?!”—even “Good-bye (for older (may)
God be with you).”36 Marvin Pope puts the matter succinctly: “To nullify threats, oaths or
food or the sudden appearance of unexpected agents in a narrative description and thus they are somewhat different
than the other examples discussed above. I do not find them all equally compelling, at least with regard to Bravmann’s
“psychological” explanation for several of them (see, esp. 466, 471, 473, 475, 477, and 480). Still, it is enough to note his
documentation of linguistic taboo in multiple Semitic languages from early to late. The nearest example Bravmann cites
to the material at hand in the present essay is his discussion of intransitive verbal use in Num 6:5; 8:7; 19:2; Judg 16:17;
and 1 Sam 6:7 (ibid., 474–6). For Modern Hebrew, see M. Muchnik, “Taboos,” in Encyclopedia of Hebrew Language and
Linguistics, ed. G. Khan (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 3.723–4.
32
See B. A. Strawn, What Is Stronger Than a Lion? Leonine Image and Metaphor in the Hebrew Bible and the Ancient Near
East, OBO 212 (Fribourg: Academic Press, 2005), 294–304, esp. 294–5. Note that the vocalic pattern for ʾaryēh is attested
in the Hebrew Bible only with ʾabnēṭ (Exod 28:4; 29:9; etc.) and ʾabrēk (Gen 41:43), both usually thought to be Egyptian
loanwords (cf. also ʿeśrēh). See also ibid., 311–19 for lābîʾ and lĕbîyāʾ. The latter, apparently feminine singular form, is
attested only once (Ezek 19:2; cf. the plural construction lĕlibʾōtāyw in Nah 2:13) and highly unusual. One expects, instead,
*lĕbîʾāh (from *lebeʾ < *labʾu). The fact that the form in MT is different internally may suggest deformation (see above).
Note that the internal doubling of yod in lĕbîyāʾ is comparable to bĕlıyaʿal.
33
Arlotto, Historical Linguistics, 201, also 203. Cf. Trask, Dictionary, 338, who thinks the original name for bear “has been
completely lost.”
34
See, e.g., M. H. Pope, “Euphemism and Dysphemism in the Bible,” in M. H. Pope, Probative Pontificating in Ugaritic and
Biblical Literature, ed. M. S. Smith, UBL 10 (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 1994), 279–91. In Pope’s terms deformation is a case
of “cacophemism or dysphemism, the use of grossly disparaging terms rather than normal or neutral designations (esp. with
reference to enemies or despised activities)” (280, his emphases).
35
Arlotto, Historical Linguistics, 212.
36
Hock, Principles, 295–6; see also L. Campbell, Historical Linguistics: An Introduction, 3rd ed. (Edinburgh: Edinburgh
University Press, 2013), 5, 229–31; additionally 435 and 455–6; cf. 472.
self-imprecations, and blasphemy various alterations and substitutions were made in wording.”37
Such changes were to avoid affront to God, on the one hand, but, on the other hand, intentional
deformations of outsider terminology could function to disparage foreign entities such as the false
gods of the nations.38 These latter slurs, or to use Pope’s term cacophemisms, “were applied especially
to items and aspects of foreign worship.”39 Pope explicitly notes the word ʾĕlîl, which is “applied
disdainfully to foreign gods,” but which “may be related to the common Semitic generic term for
deity, ʾil(u) > ʾēl, as suggested by the reduplicated forms of Old South Arabic ʾlʾht and North Arabic
ʾalāʾila-t applied to deity.”40 Another example that Pope mentions is the apparently intentional
and strategic deployment of bōšet, “shame”: “a common biblical dysphemism pronounced in
place of proper names of pagan deities, as in the names Ishbaal, Meribaal, Jerubbaal, featuring the
theophoron Baʿal … but pronounced bōšet.”41 Many scholars believe this same kind of dysphemy
is at work with other words beyond only those that mention Baal: for example, ‫ > עׁשתרת‬ʿaštōret;
‫ > מלכם‬milkom; and ‫ > מלך‬mōlek.42
3. Such examples demonstrate a third point of contact—namely, that tabooistic deformation
often results in changes to “the segmental structure” (Hock) and internal phonology of the word
in question. This point is not unrelated to the first one above, but is a bit more specific with
regard to the phonological or morphological matters at hand. It is worth recalling here that
G. R. Driver, among others, supposed that “the present vocalization of the word [bĕlıyaʿal] is
secondary.”43
4. A fourth point: tabooistically deformed words are often subjected to subsequent deformation.
Hock explains:
The new expression, in turn, tends to become taboo, since it is likewise felt to be too closely
linked with the tabooed point of reference. The consequence may be a chain of ever-changing
replacements, a constant turnover in vocabulary.44
Alternative spellings of bĕlıyaʿal, in this light, may not be alternative spellings at all, but
evidence of still further deformation, which in turn may demonstrate the deformation of the
term bĕlıyaʿal itself farther back up the chain. Hence, the Greek form in 2 Cor 6:15 (βελιάρ) and
other instances with r rather than l, or those spellings that employ a final o vowel rather than
an a vowel in the word, may well be secondary (if not tertiary)—proof, that is, of subsequent
tabooistic deformation. Perhaps one could include at this point the Ethiopic variants Belchor
37
Pope, “Euphemism and Dysphemism,” 287.
38
Ibid., 288–90.
39
Ibid., 289.
40
Ibid.
41
Ibid., 290. For discussion of this phenomenon with Baalistic personal names (PNs), see P. K. McCarter, II Samuel: A New
Translation with Introduction, Notes and Commentary, AB 9 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1984), 85–7, who posits that
the “lord” (baʿal) in question may have originally been a reference to Yhwh. Cf. the PN bĕʿalyâ (< baʿalyāh?) in 1 Chr 12:6,
which may mean “Yhwh is Lord.” For a different view on the meaning of bšt in these names, see G. J. Hamilton, “New
Evidence for the Authenticity of bšt in Hebrew Personal Names and for Its Use as a Divine Epithet in Biblical Texts,” CBQ 60
(1998): 228–50; and, earlier, M. Tsevat, “Ishboshet and Congeners: The Names and Their Study,” HUCA 46 (1975): 71–87.
42
See, e.g., 1 Kgs 11:5, 7, and 33; and, inter alia, Pope, “Euphemism and Dysphemism,” 290.
43
So Emerton, “Sheol,” 100; see Driver, “Hebrew Notes,” 53.
44
Hock, Principles, 293. As examples he cites numerous English alternatives for “toilet”: “bathroom, john, ladies’/men’s
room, lavatory, loo, powder room, toilet, W.C., washroom.” See further ibid., 294–5.
vs. Belear/Biliar in Jub. 1:20 and 15:33, respectively.45 To be sure, all such instances might also
be understood through various processes of linguistic change or realization of a Hebrew term
in non-Hebrew languages. Furthermore, there is an admittedly great deal of flexibility when it
comes to terminology referring to evil entities, or the evil entity par excellence,46 but, in its own
way, this is just further proof of the taboo nature of the topic and the “chain of ever-changing
replacements, a constant turnover in vocabulary” that Hock speaks of. So it is that one finds use
of both “Satan” and “the Devil”—sometimes in the same verse (Rev 12:9)! Still further, these
two terms can occur sometimes with and sometimes without the article, indicating a certain
uncertainty about their precise grammatical function or part of speech. There are also numerous
titles (euphemisms of a sort) like “the tempter,” “the evil one,” “the enemy,” “the ruler of the
demons,” not to mention a collection of proper names (or titles) like “Beelzebub” (see 2 Kgs
1:2; common in Vulgate and KJV).47 The latter is almost certainly “a corruption of Beelzebul,
i.e., ‘Baal (the) Prince,’ ”48 but whether this latter form is correctly preserved in the Gospels (see
Matt 10:25; 12:24, and 27; Mark 3:22; and Luke 11:15, and 18–19), as Pope would have it,
may be doubted since, as Pope himself notes, “in postbiblical Hebrew … the root zbl also relates
to excrement, and thus there would be no need to change the spelling to zĕbûb in order to
derogate a deity whose ancient title could also be taken to mean ‘Lord (of) Excrement.’ ”49 Still
more proof of the general point at hand (i.e., subsequent deformation) may be found in the fact
that the constant turnover of vocabulary means that Belial has a limited shelf life: it disappears
in Talmudic literature.50
These points of contact are suggestive; in their light bĕlıyaʿal does indeed appear to be a likely
instance of tabooistic deformation. But deformation from what? It is, alas, hard to say. That is, of
course, the nature of deformation: it complicates if not precludes accurate reconstruction of the
(presumably lost) original (see above). Once again, this may be exactly why it has proven so hard
for scholars to reverse engineer bĕlıyaʿal. But rather than reside in a counsel of despair, perhaps a
few ideas may be offered in the quest for bĕlıyaʿal’s origin.
To begin with, it is noteworthy how many studies have connected bĕlıyaʿal to supernatural
powers of one sort or another (which in many instances must be done, obviously, on the basis of
the literary context alone), and that many scholars have referenced the divine name (DN) “Baal”
45
See Dimant, “Between,” 248 n.66; citing W. Leslau, Falasha Anthology (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1951),
160–1 n.20.
46
For flexibility in the terminology for the evil one, see P. C. Almond, The Devil: A New Biography (Ithaca, NY: Cornell
University Press, 2014), 23.
47
J. E. Hogg, “ ‘Belial’ in the Old Testament,” AJSL 44 (1927): 56–8, believes the (erroneous) rendering of bĕlıyaʿal as a PN
or DN (divine name) in the Old Testament is entirely due to the influence of the Vulgate. Hogg’s own position, however,
unfortunately begs the question (in the technical sense) with regard to the meaning of bĕlıyaʿal. Contrast the earlier study
by P. Joüon, “‫ ּבְ לִ ַּיעַל‬Bélial,” Bib 5 (1924): 178–83, who argues that Jerome’s translation is exactly right.
48
Cf. Ugaritic bʿl zbl, /baʿlu zabūlu/. See Pope, “Euphemism and Dysphemism,” 286; and, further, W. Herrmann, “Baal
Zebub,” in DDD2, 154–6; K. van der Toorn, “Baal-Zebub,” in NIDB 1:373–4; G. H. Twelftree, “Beelzebul,” in NIDB
1:417–8; and H. Gese, “Die Religionen Altsyriens,” in Die Religionen Altsyriens, Altarabians und der Mandäer, by H. Gese,
M. Höfner, and K. Rudolph (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1970), 122.
49
Pope, “Euphemism and Dysphemism,” 286, who also notes that “the rabbis ridiculed the cult of Baal Peor by connecting
pʿr with ritual defecation.”
50
See Hogg, “Belial,” 57; and cf. the standard dictionaries by M. Sokoloff and M. Jastrow (the latter lists only b. Sanh. 111b,
cited above). See also DSSC 1.2.927 for the singular (!) instance of ‫ שטן‬in the non-biblical scrolls (4Q213a i 17).
(‫ )ּבַ עַל‬specifically.51 There is, obviously, a good bit of similarity—graphically and phonologically—
between ‫ בעל‬and ‫בליעל‬,52 and when one considers the internal phonetic change and alteration of
word structure that is common in tabooistic deformation, it is not hard to imagine how bʿl, baʿal
became something like blyʿl, bĕlıyaʿal.53 There is precedent, moreover, in tinkering with (deforming)
or replacing (avoiding) the word Baal in the Hebrew Bible, as attested in the bōšet phenomenon.54
We might also return to those etymologies that connect bĕlıyaʿal to √blʿ and note that these, too,
could be accounted for via tabooistic deformation, even if the deformation in this case may have
something to do with distinguishing bĕlıyaʿal from the “swallowing” that Yhwh occasionally does in
the Hebrew Bible (e.g., Ps 21:10; Isa 25:8; Lam 2:2, 5, and 8; Job 2:3; 10:8; etc.).55 Alternatively,
the deformation may have less to do with Yhwh and more to do with Baal via “an intentional
metathesis”: bʿl → blʿ.56
In my judgment, the above considerations suggest not only that bĕlıyaʿal is a case of tabooistic
deformation but also that the deformation in question is likely related in some way to the DN
Baʿal.57 As one final datum to support this opinion we might note the low frequency of ‫ בעל‬in the
Dead Sea Scrolls. The masculine noun is found only twenty-seven times in the non-biblical scrolls.58
But even this low total is misleading since only one of these instances seems to invoke the DN Baal,
and even here it does so in the plural. The text is 4Q460 9 i 9: ‫] ̊ ובעלים כיא לוא לאחד באפרים ילקח חוק[יכה‬,
“[…] ̊ and Baalim because no one in Ephraim takes [your] precept[s…].” The broken context
inevitably raises problems for a fully accurate assessment. Be that as it may, this truly modest—
even singular—instance of the DN ‫( בעל‬again, in the plural) may be contrasted with no less than
eighty-eight occurrences of bĕlıyaʿal in the non-biblical scrolls.59 This variation in use between ‫בעל‬
and ‫ בליעל‬is itself indicative of tabooistic deformation. Anthony Arlotto notes that “when there are
two homonyms, or near homonyms, in a language, and one of them becomes tabued, the tabued
word will often live on in popular speech while the innocent homonym is distorted or dropped
form the language, at least in certain situations.”60 So, in terms of a possible deformation of Baʿal
51
See, e.g., HALOT 1:134 for a possible derivation from Ugaritic bʿl-ym, “Baal of the sea.” Cf. V. Maag, “Belījaʿal im Alten
Testament,” TZ 21 (1965): 287–99. Pertinent here is J. A. Thompson’s opinion that belôʾ yôʿil in Jer 2:11 is “evidently a
play on the name Baal”; The Book of Jeremiah, NICOT (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1980), 170.
52
The assonance between baʿal and -yaʿal is particularly noteworthy.
53
Cf. Driver’s passing remark, on the vocalization of bĕlıyaʿal, when he wonders if “a tendencious yôd [has been] inserted
subsequently in accordance with a Massoretic (?) interpretation” (“Hebrew Notes,” 53). Unfortunately, he does not specify
the nature of this Masoretic “interpretation.”
54
See above and also note 15 for assonance between Baal and various terms for “goat,” perhaps further proof of dysphemism.
55
Lewis, “Belial,” 654 has noted how “swallower” fits with descriptions of Sheol and Mot.
56
Stenhouse, “Baal and Belial,” 300; cf. TDOT 2.132.
57
Note already Stenhouse (writing in 1913): “Are the two words ‫ בעל‬and ‫ בליעל‬connected? Or is the latter a fragment of a
contemptuous phrase current in later times?” (“Baal and Belial,” 295). In my judgment both options are likely at work. Cf.
Stenhouse’s conclusion: “the old name of the supreme deity was in part dropped, in part turned into a name of contempt to
denote all that was opposed to God, and in this form was used as one of the designations for the principle of evil, continually
at war for the possession of the soul of man” (305). It is intriguing, as Collin Cornell has noted (personal communication),
that tabooistic deformation of Baal suggests that the DN Yhwh and the name of his chief rival were both avoided.
58
For the statistics and instances, see DSSC 1.1.155.
59
See DSSC 1.1.146–7. For the biblical scrolls, see DSSC 3.1.150–1: the masculine noun ‫ בעל‬occurs only thirteen times; only
two of these refer explicitly to the DN Baal (Hos 2:15, 19).
60
Arlotto, Historical Linguistics, 202–3. Arlotto’s example is arse and ass: the former came to be pronounced as /ass/ with
the latter, a by-form of donkey, falling out of general use.
→ bĕlıyaʿal—the specifics of which remain elusive61—the result is that the distorted term was used
widely (at least for a period of time, prior to subsequent deformation and lexical turnover), with
the not-so-innocent original dying out quickly. This left the truly innocent, theologically denuded
‫ בעל‬behind, with the innocuous meanings “owner, master, husband.” And so it is that these are the
meanings of ‫ בעל‬that predominate at Qumran.62
4. CONCLUSION: B Ĕ LI YAʿAL IN CONTEXT(S)

In conclusion, we might take a step back and wonder about what this understanding of bĕlıyaʿal
could mean for its various uses in the Hebrew Bible, Dead Sea Scrolls, and elsewhere. On the one
hand, one can say very little about the precise significance of the tabooistic deformation of bĕlıyaʿal
for particular instances of the term. Its use is varied, after all, as previous scholars have pointed
out—a point further underscored by how the versions variously interpreted the term whenever they
encountered it in their Vorlagen. On the other hand, understanding bĕlıyaʿal as a case of tabooistic
deformation nevertheless still says quite a lot about its meaning and use, at least at a general level.
For one thing, (again) the situation indicates that one need not find only one clever etymology for
bĕlıyaʿal since reconstructing said etymology may well be impossible—such is the nature of the
case when it comes to tabooistic deformation. All that one might be able to say is that bĕlıyaʿal is
likely some sort of deformation of the DN Baʿal.63 That deformation and its possible motivations
properly lie antecedent to—and long before—the instances of bĕlıyaʿal we encounter in the Bible
and beyond. For this reason, some sort of connection to the DN Baal need not be found for each
instance of bĕlıyaʿal, though in certain cases such a connection might make some degree of sense.64
Instead, it would be enough to say that, at some point long ago, for reasons that are not entirely
clear, through a process that is still uncertain, bĕlıyaʿal was created through a process of tabooistic
deformation.65 The rest is history, as the old saying goes … but it is also language and literature!
61
Cf. TDOT 2.133: “This much can be said …: it is based on some mythological term whose meaning we are no longer able
to recover or on some name, which has been ‘interpreted’ by popular etymology as a negative with the prefix beli.”
62
These meanings are, of course, also operative in Classical Hebrew ‫בעל‬, but even here the use in the scrolls is quite
attenuated vis-à-vis the use of ‫בליעל‬.
63
Perhaps even by punning with the negative particle ‫ בלי‬so as to achieve something like “Not Lord, Un-Lord, Anti-Lord.”
Such an understanding could also be reached, with even closer correspondence to MT’s vocalization, if bĕlıyaʿal were a
compound of bĕlı + ʿāl and if the latter is taken to mean “Sublime One” or “Almighty,” whether as an independent DN or
as an apocopated form of ‫( עליון‬see HALOT 2:824–5; B. Schmidt, “Al,” in DDD2, 14–17).
64
Here one thinks of Belial as the personification of evil in the Scrolls—a point that takes on even more weight, perhaps, if
that term goes back to Baal, the archrival of Yhwh in the Old Testament. Note the opinion of R. Rosenberg, “The Concept of
Biblical ‘Belial,’ ” in The Period of the Bible, vol. A of Proceedings of the World Congress of Jewish Studies (Jerusalem: World
Union of Jewish Studies, 1981), 35–40, who argued that bĕlıyaʿal designates “a transgression of a basic behavioural norm
which in Israel is seen in terms of the violation of the covenantal relationship between the individual, community and God”
(38). Such an interpretation nicely fits a context where other gods, too, might somehow be involved or invoked.
65
Contrast Emerton, “Sheol,” 99: “A theory that postulated a meaning directly, rather than indirectly, involving wickedness
of character would be preferable.” Perhaps so, but such “direction” is often not to be had. See, more generally, R. D. Janda
and B. D. Joseph, “On Language, Change, and Language Change—Or, Of History, Linguistics, and Historical Linguistics,”
in The Handbook of Historical Linguistics, ed. B. D. Joseph and R. D. Janda (Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2003), 3–180, who
note that, “despite all the philological care in the world, even something as seemingly fixed as date of first attestation is not
always a reliable indication of age” and so there is always the possibility of “accidental gap[s]‌in attestation,” though “oral
transmission … can preserve archaic forms” (15). While they make these remarks with reference to gaps in the historical
5. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Almond, P. C. The Devil: A New Biography. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2014.
Arlotto, A. Introduction to Historical Linguistics. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin, 1972.
Baudissin, W. “The Original Meaning of ‘Belial.’ ” ExpT 9.1 (1897): 40–5.
Blau, J. Phonology and Morphology of Biblical Hebrew. LSAWS 2. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2010.
Brand, M. T. Evil Within and Without: The Source of Sin and Its Nature as Portrayed in Second Temple
Literature. JAJSup 9. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2013.
Bravmann, M. M. “Semitic Instances of ‘Linguistic Taboo.’ ” Pages 465–82 in Studies in Semitic Philology.
SSLL 6. Leiden: Brill, 1977.
Brockelmann, C. Grundriss der vergliechenden Grammatik der semitischen Sprachen. 2 vols. Repr. ed.
Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1961.
Campbell, L. Historical Linguistics: An Introduction. 3rd ed. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2013.
Cross, F. M. Jr., and D. N. Freedman. Studies in Ancient Yahwistic Poetry. Repr. ed. Grand Rapids,
MI: Eerdmans, 1997.
Dimant, D. “Between Qumran Sectarian and Non-Sectarian Texts: The Case of Belial and Mastema.” Pages
235–56 in The Dead Sea Scrolls and Contemporary Culture: Proceedings of the International Conference
Held in the Israel Museum, Jerusalem (July 6-8, 2008). Edited by A. D. Roitman, L. H. Schiffman, and
S. Tzoref. STDJ 93. Leiden: Brill, 2011.
Driver, G. R. “Hebrew Notes.” ZAW 52 (1934): 51–6.
Emerton, J. A. “Sheol and the Sons of Belial.” Pages 97–100 in Studies on the Language and Literature
of the Bible: Selected Works of J.A. Emerton. Edited by G. Davies and R. Gordon. VTSup 165.
Fox, J. Semitic Noun Patterns. HSM 52. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2003.
Gese, H. “Die Religionen Altsyriens.” Pages 3–232 in Die Religionen Altsyriens, Altarabians und der Mandäer.
By H. Gese, M. Höfner, and K. Rudolph. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1970.
Hamilton, G. J. “New Evidence for the Authenticity of bšt in Hebrew Personal Names and for Its Use as a
Divine Epithet in Biblical Texts.” CBQ 60 (1998): 228–50.
Hays, C. B. Death in the Iron Age II and in First Isaiah. FAT 1/79. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011.
Herrmann, W. “Baal Zebub.” In DDD2 154–6.
Hock, H. H. Principles of Historical Linguistics. 2nd ed. Berlin: Gruyter, 1991.
Hogg, J. E. “ ‘Belial’ in the Old Testament.” AJSL 44 (1927): 56–8.
Huppenbauer, H. W. “Belial in den Qumrantexten.” ThZ 15 (1959): 81–9.
Janda, R. D., and B. D. Joseph. “On Language, Change, and Language Change—Or, Of History, Linguistics,
and Historical Linguistics.” Pages 3–180 in The Handbook of Historical Linguistics. Edited by B. D. Joseph
and R. D. Janda. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2003.
Joüon, P. “‫ ּבְ לִ ַּיעַל‬Bélial.” Bib 5 (1924): 178–83.
Kosmala, H. “The Three Nets of Belial (A Study in the Terminology of Qumran and the New Testament).”
ASTI 4 (1965): 90–113.
Kusio, M. “The Origin of Beliar in Sibylline Oracle 3.63: A New Proposal.” JSP 29 (2020): 168–83.
Leslau, W. Falasha Anthology. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1951.
Levenson, J. D. Resurrection and the Restoration of Israel: The Ultimate Victory of the God of Life. New
Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2006.
Lewis, T. J. “Belial.” In ABD 1.654–6.
Maag, V. “Belījaʿal im Alten Testament.” TZ 21 (1965): 287–99.
Mach, M. “Demons.” In EDSS 1:189–92.
Martone, C. “Evil or Devil? Belial between the Bible and Qumran.” Hen 26 (2004): 115–27.
record, they observe that “a similar issue arises with lexical items that have special affective or emotive value,” such as taboo
words, including expletives (16). At this point, they speak not of gaps in attestation but “delays in attestation,” despite the
fact that “there appears to be a panchronic and thoroughly human proclivity to employ lexical items with such meanings for
affective purposes” (16).
Matthews, P. H. The Oxford Concise Dictionary of Linguistics. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014.
McCarter, P. K. II Samuel: A New Translation with Introduction, Notes and Commentary. AB 9. Garden City,
Muchnik, M. “Taboos.” Pages 723–4 in vol. 3 of Encyclopedia of Hebrew Language and Linguistics. Edited by
G. Khan. Leiden: Brill, 2013.
Osten-Sacken, P. von der. Gott und Belial: Traditionsgeschichtlich Untersuchungen zum Dualismus in den
Texten aus Qumran. SUNT 6. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1969.
Ott, N. H. Rechtspraxis und Heilsgeschichte: Zu Überlieferung, Ikonographie und Gebrauchssituation des
deutschen “Belial.” München: Artemis Verlag, 1983.
Pedersen, J. Israel: Its Life and Culture. 2 vols. 2nd ed. London: Oxford University Press, 1959.
Pope, M. H. “Euphemism and Dysphemism in the Bible.” Pages 279–91 in Probative Pontificating in Ugaritic
and Biblical Literature. Edited by M. S. Smith. UBL 10. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag.
Rosenberg, R. “The Concept of Biblical ‘Belial.’ ” Pages 35–40 in The Period of the Bible. Vol. A of Proceedings
of the World Congress of Jewish Studies. Jerusalem: World Union of Jewish Studies, 1981.
Sagarin, J. L. Hebrew Noun Patterns (Mishqalim): Morphology, Semantics, and Lexicon. Atlanta, GA: Scholars
Press, 1987.
Schmidt, B. “Al.” In DDD2 14–17.
Sperling, S. D. “Belial.” In DDD2 169–71.
Stenhouse, T. “Baal and Belial.” ZAW 33 (1913): 295–305.
Steudel, A. “God and Belial.” Pages 332–400 in The Dead Sea Scrolls Fifty Years after Their Discovery. Edited
by L. H. Schiffman, E. Tov, and J. C. VanderKam. Jerusalem: Israel Museum, 2000.
Steudel, A. “Der Teufel in den Texten aus Qumran.” Pages 191–200 in Apokalyptic und Qumran. Edited by J.
Frey and M. Becker. Einblicke 10. Paderborn: Bonifatius, 2007.
Strawn, B. A. What Is Stronger Than a Lion? Leonine Image and Metaphor in the Hebrew Bible and the Ancient
Near East. OBO 212. Fribourg: Academic Press, 2005.
Thomas, D. W. “‫ ּבְ לִ ַּיעַל‬in the Old Testament.” Pages 11–19 in Biblical and Patristic Studies: In Memory of
Robert Pierce Casey. Edited by J. N. Birdsall and R. W. Thomson. Freiburg: Herder, 1963.
Thomas, S. “‫ ּבְ לִ ַּיעַל‬belijjaʿal ‫ ּבָ לַע‬III bālaʿ.” In ThWQ 1:452–7.
Thompson, J. A. The Book of Jeremiah. NICOT. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1980.
Trask, R. L. The Dictionary of Historical and Comparative Linguistics. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University
Press, 2000.
Tsevat, M. “Ishboshet and Congeners: The Names and Their Study.” HUCA 46 (1975): 71–87.
Tur-Sinai, N. H. “‫בליעל‬.” In EncMiqr 2:132–3.
Twelftree, G. H. “Beelzebul.” In NIDB 1:417–18.
Van der Toorn, K. “Baal-Zebub.” In NIDB 1:373–4.
CHAPTER FIVE
Just What We Need: Another

Allusion in Luke 1?
JOHN B. F. MILLER
Luke’s infancy narrative is replete with allusions to Jewish Scripture. In his discussion of Luke 1–2
as “a kind of echo chamber for the interplay of ‘the old stories’ with Luke’s own story,” Joel Green
summarizes the challenges inherent in identifying and interpreting these allusions: “we have much
less need to certify to the exclusion of other probable candidates the precise source of an allusion
in this Lukan material (which in any case is not always possible) than to appreciate the many voices
from the past given a fresh hearing, and thus to reflect on the significance of their interplay in this
new context.”1 In this study, I will look at an underexplored allusion in Luke 1 with the hope of
teasing out its “interplay” within the narrative of Luke-Acts.
At the end of her dialogue with the angel Gabriel, Mary declares: “Behold, I am the slave
of the Lord” (Luke 1:38).2 This statement has been interpreted in a variety of ways.3 Sitting at
the remote margins of more widely accepted and repeated interpretations is Richard Nelson’s
suggestion that v. 38 is part of a broader set of allusions connecting Mary with David.4 Resistance to
this suggestion seems to stem from larger questions about the way allusions function within Luke’s
story. After examining points of connection between Mary and David in Luke 1, I will discuss the
problematic issue of the way allusions function in this passage and then proceed to explore a way
of understanding this allusion to David that works organically within the narrative. I will argue
1
This narrative-critical study will focus on literary questions. Bound up with these questions, however, are historical issues
attending the complex and sometimes conflicting expectations of a Messiah within first-century Judaism. Those expectations,
like so many other aspects of early Jewish and Christian thought, have been illumined in the work of James Hamilton
Charlesworth (see, e.g., The Messiah: Developments in Earliest Judaism and Christianity and Qumran-Messianism: Studies
on the Messianic Expectations in the Dead Sea Scrolls). It is an honor to dedicate this essay to Jim, perhaps especially because
of the subjective nature of the present discussion. As a biblical scholar, Charlesworth has embodied what it means to be
rooted in texts and their history. Indeed, some of his significant contributions include groundbreaking critical editions (e.g.,
The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, along with the continuing work of the Princeton Theological Seminary Dead Sea Scrolls
Project). Alongside these works, however, stand monuments to Jim’s exegetical curiosity and creativity (e.g., The Beloved
Disciple and The Good & Evil Serpent). Those fortunate enough to have been his students will perhaps remember these
studies more because of Jim’s excitement while working on them—an excitement he brought both to his own work and
ours. I have lost count of the times I left a meeting with Jim more passionate about my own project than I was when the
meeting began. Jim’s work as a teacher and mentor has been marked by a special gift of inspiration—a gift for which I will
be forever grateful.
J. Green, The Gospel of Luke, NICNT (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997), 57.
2
Unless otherwise noted, all translations in this study are my own.
3
See the discussion of 1:38 in the following section and nn.10 and 11 below.
4
R. Nelson, “David: A Model for Mary in Luke?” BTB 18 (1988): 138–42.
that Mary’s identification of herself as “the slave of the Lord” fits within the broader scope of the
way Luke describes first-century expectations of a messianic deliverer and then reshapes those
expectations in the course of Luke-Acts.
1. ALLUSIONS TO DAVID IN LUKE’S PRESENTATION OF MARY

Reading Mary’s declaration “I am the slave of the Lord” (ἡ δούλη κυρίου) as an allusion to David
brings one immediately into the challenges that surround interpreting allusions in this or any
text. I will address these challenges in the next section. For now, it is important to sketch the
connections between the portrayal of Mary in Luke 1 and that of David in 2 Samuel 7.5 The explicit
connection between the two emerges in Luke 1:31–32, where Luke describes both Mary and David
as “parents” of Jesus. Mary “will conceive in her womb and bear a son” to whom God will give
the “throne of David, his father.” Clearly, the paternal description of David has an ancestral sense.
Nevertheless, the explicit link between Mary and David in these verses encourages readers not
only to think about David in relation to Mary and Jesus but also to think specifically of the scene
in which God promises David’s descendant a “throne” that “will be restored forever” (θρόνος …
ἔσται ἀνωρθωμένος εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα [LXX 2 Sam 7:16]).6 The explicit connection between Luke 1:32
and 2 Sam 7:16 invites the reader to consider other possible connections between the two passages.
Gabriel’s initial greeting to Mary in Luke 1:28 ends with the phrase “the Lord is with you”
(κύριος μετὰ σοῦ). At first glance, one might presume this to be a common expression,7 one not
worthy of a second look for allusive possibilities. It is interesting to note, however, that the exact
phrase κύριος μετὰ σοῦ occurs in the LXX only at Gen 26:28, Judg 6:12,8 and in Nathan’s assertion
to David in 2 Sam 7:3. Having already seen explicit references to David (Luke 1:27, 32) and a clear
verbal allusion9 to 2 Samuel 7 (Luke 1:32), it does not seem too great a stretch to see in v. 28 an
allusion to 2 Sam 7:3.
The next point of contact between Mary and David is found not in an allusion to Jewish Scripture
but in Luke’s own characterization of the two. Gabriel’s next words to Mary tell her that she should
not be afraid, for she “has found favor with God” (εὗρες γὰρ χάριν παρὰ τῷ θεῷ). In the entire
5
What follows is not a summary of Nelson’s argument in “A Model for Mary” but my own study of Luke’s allusions to David
in the story of Mary. I became aware of Nelson’s work relatively late in the course of my own investigation, finding a single
reference to it within a footnote in another text. Although we adduce some of the same connections between Luke 1 and
2 Samuel 7, our emphases are very different and our conclusions are even more so. Nelson’s discussion of David and Mary
describing themselves as “slave of the Lord,” for example, comprises only two sentences.
6
See also 2 Sam 7:13.
7
See Nelson, “A Model for Mary,” 139.
8
K. Stock emphasizes a connection between Luke 1:28 and Judg 6:12 in his argument that Luke 1:26–38 is a commissioning
scene, as opposed to an annunciation scene; “Die Berufung Marias [Lk 1, 26-38],” Bib 61 (1980): 461–2). For a summary of
scholarship on this issue, see R. E. Brown, The Birth of the Messiah: A Commentary on the Infancy Narratives in the Gospels
of Matthew and Luke, rev. ed. (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1993), 629–30.
9
Defining a spectrum of allusion is beyond the scope of the present examination. Peter Mallen has provided a concise
discussion of “explicit quotation,” “verbal allusion,” “conceptual allusion,” and “narrative pattern” in The Reading and
Transformation of Isaiah in Luke-Acts, LNTS 367 (London: T&T Clark, 2008), 24. I will use his definition of verbal
allusion (“an informal reference to an earlier text that repeats a distinctive word or phrase but without using an introductory
formula”) and conceptual allusion (which “evokes an earlier text through a distinctive similarity in the event or character
being described although expressed in different words”) in this study.
Another Allusion in Luke 1? 57
narrative of Luke-Acts, only one other figure is described with these words. In Acts 7:45–46, it is
“David, who found favor before God” (Δαυίδ, ὃς εὗρεν χάριν ἐνώπιον τοῦ θεοῦ).
It is not until Luke 1:38, however, that one finds the most intriguing possible allusion to
the story of David. Following Gabriel’s final words in the narrative, Mary concludes their
conversation: “Behold, I am the slave of the Lord; may it be for me according to your word” (ἰδοὺ ἡ
δούλη κυρίου· γένοιτό μοι κατὰ τὸ ῥῆμά σου). Interpreters routinely find in Mary’s identification as a
“slave of the Lord” both humility and a sense of obedience to Gabriel’s expression of God’s plan.10
Others have used Mary’s words as the basis for more far-reaching theological conclusions.11 Few,
however, have explored their allusive possibilities.12 The expression δούλη/δοῦλος κυρίου is applied
to several figures in the Septuagint, though usually only once or twice. Moses is mentioned as “slave
of the Lord” three times (LXX 1 Kgs 8:53, 56; LXX 2 Kgs 18:12). Joshua is called “slave of the
Lord” twice (LXX Josh 24:30; LXX Judg 2:8). Samuel and Saul each refer to themselves once as
“slave of the Lord” (LXX 1 Sam 3:9–10 and 14:41, respectively). It is David, however, who both
claims and receives this appellation far more than any other.13 Indeed, it is only slightly hyperbolic
to say that David is described as “slave of the Lord” more than all of the other figures in Jewish
Scripture combined. Notably, David is referred to as “slave of the Lord” eight times in LXX 2
Samuel 7, and in one of those references one finds yet another possible connection to Mary.
Mary’s final response to Gabriel’s description of how God will act in the birth of Jesus is to
say “may it be for me according to your word” (γένοιτό μοι κατὰ τὸ ῥῆμά σου [Luke 1:38]). After
hearing God’s promise in the oracle of Nathan, David offers a lengthy prayer in which he entreats
God to “confirm the word that you spoke concerning your slave and his house” (τὸ ῥῆμα ὃ ἐλάλησας
περὶ τοῦ δούλου σου καὶ τοῦ οἴκου αὐτοῦ πίστωσον [LXX 2 Sam 7:25]). Although Luke 1:38b could
10
C. Talbert’s concise summary is representative: “Her belief led to an absolute self-surrender to the divine purpose;” Reading
Luke: A Literary and Theological Commentary on the Third Gospel (New York: Crossroad, 1982), 23 (emphasis added). For
F. Bovon, “Mary places herself at God’s behest … she does not merely submit herself but demonstrates her agreement;” Luke
1: A Commentary on the Gospel of Luke 1:1–9:50, trans. C. Thomas, Hermeneia (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2002),
53. She not only “demonstrates her agreement,” but as Sharon Ringe points out: “Mary becomes the first to participate
knowingly and willingly in God’s future that has been announced to her;” Luke (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox
Press, 1995), 32.
11
Green, for example, has explored the implications of Mary’s declaration in light of first-century conceptions of slavery. By
declaring herself “slave of the Lord,” Mary “claims a place in God’s household,” thereby deriving her own status directly
from God; “The Social Status of Mary in Luke 1,5-2,52: A Plea for Methodological Integration,” Bib 73 (1992): 468.
On this understanding of ancient slavery, see also S. Bartchy, “Slavery (Greco-Roman),” ABD 6:70. However, that slavery
in antiquity was a more complex and complicated matter—especially for female slaves—is made clear in Jane Schaberg’s
interpretation of Mary’s declaration as a statement of consent by which Luke “aimed to defuse the inherited tradition of
[Jesus’s] illegitimacy;” The Illegitimacy of Jesus: A Feminist Theological Interpretation of the Infancy Narratives, expanded
twentieth anniversary ed. (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2006), 127; see also pp. 122–5. For an extensive summary of
scholars engaging Luke 1:38 from perspectives of feminist theology and feminist Mariology, see K. McDonnell, “Feminist
Mariologies: Heteronomy/Subordination and the Scandal of Christology,” TS 66 (2005): 527–67.
12
Nelson observes that ἡ δούλη κυρίου (Luke 1:38) connects Mary to David (2 Sam 7:19) but does not focus on the language
of δούλη/δούλος in the rest of his argument; “A Model for Mary,” 139. Although he disagrees with Nelson’s conclusions,
Y. Miura refers to Nelson’s article in his assertion that Luke’s portrayal of Mary fits within conceptions of a Davidic
ideal: “Thus the story of David in the past, the function of Jesus as the Davidic Messiah in the future, and the role of Mary
in the present seem to be fused in [Luke] 1:51-55;” David in Luke-Acts: His Portrayal in Light of Early Judaism, WUNT 232
(Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 207 n.38; cf. 127–8.
13
LXX 1 Sam 23:10–11; 25:39; LXX 2 Sam 3:18; 7:5, 8, 19, 20, 25, 27–29; 24:10; LXX 1 Kgs 8:25, 66; 11:13; LXX 2
Kgs 8:19; LXX 1 Chr 17:7, 26; and LXX Pss 35:1; 85:4.
be conceived as a verbal allusion to 2 Sam 7:25, it is at least a conceptual allusion:14 both passages
contain the term ῥῆμα and offer nearly identical sentiments.
To these connections between Mary and David, one can also add allusions in Mary’s Magnificat
to the Psalms—texts Luke associated with David.15 Mary’s description of her soul “magnifying the
Lord” (Luke 1:46) has been read as an allusion to LXX Ps 33:4. Likewise, the statement that her
spirit “rejoices in God [her] savior” (1:47) is a likely allusion to LXX Ps 34:9.16 There are a number
of other connections one might adduce between the Magnificat and the Psalms.17 For the purposes
of this discussion, however, it is necessary to focus more attention on what these connections do
within the framework of Luke’s narrative. It is to that subject that we now turn.
2. THE CHALLENGES OF LUKAN ALLUSIONS

Why is it so common for scholars to tread with caution around Luke’s allusions? One might argue
it is because they vary so widely in terms of how they function in the narrative. The complexity of
Luke’s allusions is apparent in Brown’s attempt to untangle the threads of Hannah’s and Samuel’s
stories woven into the background of the presentation of Jesus at the Temple (Luke 2:22–24):
I would contend that the Samuel background is drawn upon by Luke for the whole infancy
narrative .... the Magnificat of Mary is patterned on the canticle of Hannah .... while the
conception of JBap was patterned on the conception of Samuel, Luke now shifts the Samuel
imagery over to Jesus and patterns Joseph and Mary on Elkanah and Hannah, even as he earlier
patterned Zechariah and Elizabeth on the two parents of Samuel.18
It is in this context that Brown offered his often-quoted conclusion: “Luke’s method is not one of
identifying figures in the infancy narrative with OT characters; rather he uses pigments taken from
OT narratives to color in the infancy narrative.”19 Following in this vein, more recent commentators
have maintained the necessity of embracing a very fluid reading of Lukan allusions. C. Kavin Rowe,
for example, suggests: “For those who have ears to hear, the stories of Abraham and Sarah …
Hannah and Samuel … [and] King David … echo throughout the birth-infancy narrative, thereby
rendering direct citation of the LXX superfluous. The hallowed past extends into the hallowed
present even as this present reaches backward into the past.”20 Such conclusions may be tempting
when looking at the allusions in Luke’s infancy narrative as a whole. When looking at a specific
allusion, however, one has to give up that wide-angled lens and work with the ways in which the
allusion plays out—or fails to play out—within the framework of the Lukan narrative. One must
14
See n. 9 above.
15
That Luke understands the Psalms as a whole to be the writings of David is suggested by Acts 2:25–35. In this passage,
Peter draws liberally from the Psalms (e.g., LXX Pss 15, 109, and 131), using language like “David says” (Δαυὶδ γὰρ λέγει
[2:25]) whether the individual Psalm is ascribed to David or not.
16
Both of these connections are noted in the marginal references of Nestle-Aland, Novum Testamentum Graece, 28th ed.
17
See, e.g., Fitzmyer’s treatment of τῷ θεῷ τῷ σωτῆρί μου (1:47, cf. LXX Ps 24:5), ὁ δυνατός (1:49, cf. LXX Ps 88:9), ἅγιον
τὸ ὄνομα αὐτοῦ (1:49, cf. LXX Ps 110:9), etc.; The Gospel According to Luke: Introduction, Translation, and Notes, 2 vols.,
AB 28–28A (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1981–5), 1.367–8.
18
Brown, Birth of the Messiah, 451.
19
Ibid.
20
C. Kavin Rowe, Early Narrative Christology: The Lord in the Gospel of Luke, BZNW 139 (Berlin: Gruyter, 2006), 33–4.
examine “the interplay of ‘the old stories’ with Luke’s own story” even when it is impossible “to
certify to the exclusion of other probable candidates the precise source of an allusion.”21 Sometimes
that “interplay” seems fairly straightforward, enriching a character’s language and action. At other
times, though, it may leave even the most dedicated readers wondering how a particular reference
works within the flow of Luke’s story. A quick look at three of the allusions in Luke 1 illustrates
the problem nicely.
In 1:18, Zechariah begins his response to Gabriel with the awkward expression “according
to what will I know this?” (κατὰ τί γνώσομαι τοῦτο;). This phrase is an uncontestable allusion to
LXX Gen 15:8,22 in which Abram uses the same expression to respond to God’s promise that
Abram’s descendants will be like the stars of heaven. Although Brown was correct that Luke has not
“identified” Zechariah with Abram on any grand scale, this allusion fits easily within the narrative
and helps to clarify it. As Coleridge has observed, Zechariah’s use of Abram’s language reinforces
the supposition that he, as a “righteous” priest who “walk[s]‌blameless[ly] in all the commandments
and statutes of the Lord” (1:5) should know better than to doubt the divine promise of a child.23
Luke uses this allusion to guide the audience’s response to Zechariah’s incredulity, and to prepare
the audience for Gabriel’s frustration and punishment of Zechariah.24 Not all of Luke’s allusions,
however, are this straightforward.
Although I have argued that Luke 1:38 connects Mary to David, one can also read it as part of
a broader allusion to the story of Hannah in 1 Sam 1–2.25 As Hannah prays outside the sanctuary,
she entreats the Lord: “If you will look with concern upon the humiliation of your slave, remember
me, and give to your slave a son, I will give him back as an offering before you until the day of
his death” (ἐὰν ἐπιβλέπων ἐπιβλέψῃς ἐπὶ τὴν ταπείνωσιν τῆς δούλης σου καὶ μνησθῇς μου καὶ δῷς τῇ
δούλῃ σου σπέρμα ἀνδρῶν, καὶ δώσω αὐτὸν ἐνώπιόν σου δοτὸν ἕως ἡμέρας θανάτου αὐτοῦ [LXX 1
Sam 1:11]). Mary’s identification as ἡ δούλη κυρίου may evoke Hannah’s words in this verse, but
the third line of Mary’s Magnificat most certainly does: “because he has looked with care upon
the humiliation of his slave” (ὅτι ἐπέβλεψεν ἐπὶ τὴν ταπείνωσιν τῆς δούλης αὐτοῦ [Luke 1:48]).
This direct verbal allusion leads the reader to seek connections between Mary and Hannah—to
understand how Hannah’s story might deepen one’s appreciation for the scene in Luke 1. It is
at this point that things become a bit complicated. From a broad perspective, one can certainly
find loose connections between the two figures. Both women bear a child who is viewed as a
blessing and as evidence of God’s care for God’s people.26 Indeed, both interpret the coming of
their sons as evidence of God reversing misfortunes suffered by the mother—and, by extension, by
21
Green, Luke, 57 (quoted in full above).
22
The wording of the question, κατὰ τί γνώσομαι, is stylistically poor. This language, however, provides excellent evidence
for Luke’s use of a Greek translation of Genesis; see also Brown, Birth, 279. A search of the TLG indicates that this phrase
is found only in LXX Gen 15:8, Luke 1:18, and patristic quotations of these passages. There can be no question that Luke
is alluding here to Gen 15:8.
23
M. Coleridge, Birth of the Lukan Narrative: Narrative as Christology in Luke 1-2, JSNTSup 88 (Sheffield: Sheffield
Academic Press, 1993), 38–40.
24
For a discussion of Zechariah’s inability to speak as a punishment in Luke 1, see John Miller, Convinced that God had
Called Us: Dreams, Visions, and the Perception of God’s Will in Luke-Acts, BINS 85 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 116 n.15.
25
Fitzmyer, for example, sees Hannah as the focal point for Mary’s declaration that she is the “slave of the Lord;” Gospel
According to Luke, 1:352. However, as noted in the quotation from Joel Green above (Luke, 57), arguing for one “precise”
source of an allusion, to the exclusion of another possibility, can be a futile enterprise in Lukan studies.
26
1 Sam 1:20, 27–28, and 2:3; Luke 1:48–50.
Israel.27 Both of these sons are dedicated to the service of the Lord, and both are at the center of what
their respective texts regard as watershed moments in the history of God’s people.28 To get to these
deeper narrative connections, however, the reader has to get beyond the confusion that lies much
closer to the surface of the story. Specifically, Hannah’s plight of childlessness (1 Sam 1:2–8) couldn’t
be further from Mary’s situation (Luke 1:34) but instead mirrors the experience of Elizabeth (Luke
1:7). Likewise, Samuel is much closer to John as a precursor to God’s “anointed” than he is to Jesus.29
Thus, while this allusion connecting Mary with Hannah and Jesus with Samuel invites the reader to
consider Jesus’ birth within the wider scope of Israel’s plight and experience of oppression, it can do
so only for readers willing to look past the initial confusion caused by the dissimilarity of Mary’s and
Hannah’s circumstances. Some other allusions in Luke’s infancy narrative create even more confusion.
In the previous section, I argued that several aspects of Luke’s description of Mary hearken back
to David. The connections described, however, have not found widespread acknowledgment—or
even narrow acknowledgment30—in the work of scholars. Although it would be unwise to speculate
as to why scholars have been largely silent about possible allusions to David in the Lukan passages
noted above, it seems fair to suggest that one reason for this omission may be the jarring nature of
the allusion itself. That Luke may be alluding to David in his descriptions of Mary in 1:28, 30, and
38 is less problematic than trying to explain how the allusion works in the narrative. Whereas one
has to look past superficial problems to find deeper connections in the stories of Mary and Hannah,
one searches in vain for ways to connect Mary with David. This allusion does not clarify anything
immediate in the story, nor does it plumb a deeper resonance between these two figures. Certainly,
Nelson’s suggestion that Luke presents Mary as the “new David”—a new model of ideal faith—has
not been received favorably.31 As we will see below, the problem only becomes more complicated
when we look closely at what it meant for David and Mary to call themselves “slave of the Lord.”
Rather than identifying Mary with David in ways that are not consonant with the text of Luke’s
Gospel, I would like to look at this allusion from a different perspective: the way Luke uses language.
3. LUKE’S USE OF LANGUAGE TO RESHAPE UNDERSTANDING

AND EXPECTATION
In another study, I have engaged some of the challenges of expectation and fulfillment that arise in
Luke 1, especially relating to the language in Mary’s Magnificat and Zechariah’s Benedictus.32 In
short, both Mary and Zechariah understand the birth of their respective children as an indication
of the fulfillment of particular promises within Jewish Scripture—promises that focus on salvation
from oppression and God’s rescue of Israel from its enemies (e.g., 1:52–54 and 1:68–71, 74). The
narrative expectations created by the Magnificat and Benedictus, however, do not find fulfillment in
27
1 Sam 2:5; Luke 1:51–55.
28
Samuel is dedicated to the service of the Lord in 1 Sam 1:28, and 1 Samuel portrays him as the pivotal figure who
unwillingly ushers in a new era of kingship in Israel (8:22), and who anoints both Saul (9:16 and 10:1) and David (16:13).
Jesus’ dedication is found in Luke 2:22–32, in which Simeon describes Jesus as God’s “salvation” (2:30).
29
1 Sam 8:10–18, cf. Luke 3:2–17.
30
As an anecdotal example, Brown’s supplemental bibliography in the revised version of Birth of the Messiah, which includes
works published as late as 1992, does not include Nelson’s “A Model for Mary” (1988). See also n. 12 above.
31
Nelson, “A Model for Mary,” 140–2.
32
See Miller, Convinced, 133–46.
the story of Luke-Acts, at least not the fulfillment envisioned in these songs. A full rehearsal of my
argument is beyond the scope of the present discussion, but a summary will provide the necessary
foundation for the way I propose to read Luke’s description of Mary as ἡ δούλη κυρίου.
In the cited study, I explored how some of the language from the Magnificat and Benedictus is
used later in Luke-Acts in ways that help to reshape those narrative expectations. Luke uses words
like ἐπιβλέπω, ὑψόω, ταπείνωσις (along with ταπεινός and ταπεινόω), ἔλεος, and ἐπισκέπτομαι both
to describe first-century messianic expectations in Luke 1 and to reshape those expectations in light
of the actual ministry of Jesus and his disciples as the narrative progresses. Terms like ἐπιβλέπω
and ἐπισκέπτομαι, used to describe God “looking with care” in terms of grand scale reversals of
human power and authority in the Magnificat (1:48) and Benedictus (1:68, 78), are used later in
the narrative to describe God’s care in terms of Jesus’ raising of the widow’s son (7:14–16), Jesus’
healing of an afflicted child (Luke 9:38, 42–43), and God receiving “a people for his name” from
among the Gentiles (Acts 15:14). The language of exaltation (Luke 1:52) and humiliation (Luke
1:48, 52) describing spheres of political power33 in Luke 1 is reappropriated by the Lukan Jesus
to depict the way his followers should treat one another (Luke 14:11 and 18:14). The covenantal
mercy of God described in terms of deliverance from human oppression in the Magnificat (1:50,
54) and Benedictus (1:72, 78) is reshaped in a description of deliverance from spiritual oppression
and the attainment of eternal life by loving God with all one’s heart, soul, and strength, and by
loving one’s neighbor (Luke 10:27, 37; cf. Luke 10:17–24).34 In light of the way Luke uses key
terms to reshape other expectations expressed in Luke 1, I would like to explore how Luke’s
allusion to David in Mary’s claim to be “the slave of the Lord” (1:38) may establish expectations
that are subsequently reshaped in Luke-Acts.
3.1. “Slave of the Lord” in 1–2 Samuel

David first refers to himself as “slave of the Lord” when he inquires of the Lord at Keilah regarding
Saul’s intentions (LXX 1 Sam 23:10–11; see also LXX 1 Sam 25:39). The first time God is said to
refer to David in this way comes in the proclamation of Abner:
Abner spoke to the elders of Israel, saying, “in the past, you were seeking to make David king
over you. Do so now, because the Lord has spoken about David, saying, ‘by the hand of my slave
David I will save Israel from the hand of the Philistines and from the hand of all its enemies.’ ”
(LXX 2 Sam 3:17–18)
All further references to David as “slave of the Lord” come after he is recognized as king of Israel
and Judah in 2 Sam 5.35 In terms of understanding Luke’s allusion to David, it is important to
notice the ironic role that David plays as “slave of the Lord”: David is “slave”36 to the Lord and
no one else.37 God calls David the one who will be the ruler over God’s people Israel (LXX 2 Sam
33
Luke 1:52 describes God “casting down rulers from thrones” (καθεῖλεν δυνάστας ἀπὸ θρόνων).
34
Miller, Convinced, 138–45.
35
The phrase “slave of the Lord” is not found in the description of Samuel anointing David in 1 Samuel 16.
36
As Nelson observes, David uses “the humble courtly language” of a slave to describe his relationship to the Lord; “A Model
for Mary,” 139.
37
This distinction is important, especially since David has referred to himself as the “slave” of both Saul (e.g., LXX 1 Sam
17:32, 34, 36) and Achish (e.g., LXX 1 Sam 27:5) earlier in the narrative of 1 Samuel; Miura, David in Luke-Acts, 168 n.126.
7:8). God will make David’s name like that of the greatest people on earth (7:9). God will make a
“house” for David (7:11); David’s “house” and kingdom will be secured before God forever, and
David’s throne will be restored forever (7:16). David, the “slave of the Lord,” is a powerful ruler
who will become more powerful, the anointed king by whose hand God “will save Israel … from
the hand of all its enemies.”
3.2. “Slave of the Lord” in the Gospel of Luke

Mary’s declaration of herself as “slave of the Lord” takes on a different flavor when viewed as
an allusion to David. Images of the self-effacing, obedient servant often assigned to Mary in
commentaries on this passage fade into the background, replaced by an image of Mary as one who
will play a powerful role in the unfolding of God’s plan. Noting that slaves in antiquity derived
status from that of their masters, Joel Green has argued that Mary’s understanding of herself
as “slave of the Lord” is an indication that she has aligned herself with the household of God.38
Looking at Mary’s statement in Luke 1:38 as an allusion to David pushes the point further. Mary
portrays herself as an important instrument of God’s deliverance—a picture quite consonant with
the language of the Magnificat: “from now on all generations will bless me” (Luke 1:48, emphasis
added). Like David before her, Mary claims to be a “slave” to the Lord and no one else.39 However
difficult it may be to find further connections between Mary and David, this allusion draws the
reader back to a time when Israel was victorious over its enemies, when its leader was a “slave”
to no one but the Lord. As such, it helps the reader understand the expectations of a messianic
deliverer described in the first two chapters of the Gospel. Because that kind of military, political
deliverance from oppression did not come to pass, Luke had to reshape those expectations as his
narrative continued. The question is whether Luke’s specific use of δούλη/δοῦλος κυρίου is reshaped
later in the narrative. I would argue that it is.
The very next δοῦλος in the Gospel provides a proleptic hint of what it will mean eventually
in Luke’s narrative to be a “slave of the Lord.” Simeon becomes the first human in the narrative
to proclaim Jesus as God’s “salvation”: “Now you are dismissing your slave in peace, Master,
according to your word, because my eyes have seen your salvation” (νῦν ἀπολύεις τὸν δοῦλόν
σου, δέσποτα, κατὰ τὸ ῥῆμά σου ἐν εἰρήνῃ· ὅτι εἶδον οἱ ὀφθαλμοί μου τὸ σωτήριόν σου [Luke 2:29–
30]). For the remainder of the Gospel, references to δοῦλοι are generic (i.e., there are no specific
references to “slave(s) of the Lord”) and focus primarily on the proper disposition of slaves, rather
than on the role “slaves of the Lord” will play in God’s kingdom.40 It is not until the Acts of the
Apostles that one finds Luke reshaping the use of δοῦλαι/δοῦλοι κυρίου and highlighting the role
these are to play.
38
Green, “Social Status of Mary,” 468.
39
B. Gaventa makes a similar point for the purpose of refuting misinterpretations of “generations of Christians [who]
have seen Mary as a model or example for all women and have distorted her slavery to the Lord to mean the subjection of
women in general to men in general;” Mary: Glimpses of the Mother of Jesus (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press,
1995), 54.
40
See, e.g., Luke 17:7–10.
3.3. “Slave of the Lord” in the Acts of the Apostles

Luke uses δούλη/δοῦλος in only three passages within the narrative of Acts, but all three are references
to “slaves of the Lord,” and all three portray “slaves of the Lord” in a consistent role. That Luke is
highlighting the role that God’s δοῦλαι/δοῦλοι will play in the unfolding of God’s will is suggested
in the subtle alteration Luke makes to a quotation of Jewish Scripture in the first passage.
In Acts 2, Peter explains to those gathered how they are able to “hear [the disciples] declaring
in [the listeners’] own languages the great things of God” (2:11). “This,” Peter explains, “is that
which has been spoken through the prophet Joel” about the outpouring of God’s Spirit (2:16). In
LXX Joel 3:2, one finds the phrase “even upon male slaves and female slaves will I pour out my
Spirit in those days” (καὶ ἐπὶ τοὺς δούλους καὶ ἐπὶ τὰς δούλας ἐν ταῖς ἡμέραις ἐκείναις ἐκχεῶ ἀπὸ τοῦ
πνεύματός μου). Luke has Peter altering the prophetic reference by adding the possessive pronoun
μου to both the δοῦλοι and δοῦλαι, and by adding a description of what God’s slaves will do in
response to the outpouring of God’s Spirit: “Indeed, in those days I will pour out my Spirit upon
my male slaves and upon my female slaves and they will prophesy” (καί γε ἐπὶ τοὺς δούλους μου καὶ
ἐπὶ τὰς δούλας μου ἐν ταῖς ἡμέραις ἐκείναις ἐκχεῶ ἀπὸ τοῦ πνεύματός μου, καὶ προφητεύσουσιν [2:18,
emphasis added]). By adding μου to δοῦλοι and δοῦλαι Luke transforms what seems in Joel to be
an emphasis on inclusion41 into a statement of identification: the passage portrays God saying,
“These are my slaves upon whom I have poured out my Spirit, and they are prophesying to you.”
Luke’s addition of μου reminds the reader of the first δούλη κυρίου mentioned in the narrative. The
addition of προφητεύω and the repeated emphasis on God’s Spirit reminds the reader of the next
δοῦλος in Luke, Simeon. That the disciples come to understand themselves as δοῦλαι/δοῦλοι of the
Lord, charged specifically with proclaiming God’s word, becomes clear in the final two references
to δοῦλοι in Luke-Acts.
Following their imprisonment and trial (Acts 4:1–22), Peter and John report to the other believers
what has happened. The group responds by praying: “And now, behold their threats, Lord, and
allow your slaves to speak your word with boldness” (καὶ τὰ νῦν, κύριε, ἔπιδε ἐπὶ τὰς ἀπειλὰς αὐτῶν
καὶ δὸς τοῖς δούλοις σου μετὰ παρρησίας πάσης λαλεῖν τὸν λόγον σου [Acts 4:29]). The connection
drawn to the “prophesying” δοῦλοι/δοῦλαι of the Pentecost scene is abundantly clear from the two
verses that follow. Their prayer concludes: “while you stretch out your hand with healing, and
signs and wonders come about through the name of your holy servant, Jesus” (ἐν τῷ τὴν χεῖρά [σου]
ἐκτείνειν σε εἰς ἴασιν καὶ σημεῖα καὶ τέρατα γίνεσθαι διὰ τοῦ ὀνόματος τοῦ ἁγίου παιδός σου Ἰησοῦ [Acts
4:30]). The reference to signs (σημεῖα) and wonders (τέρατα) reminds the reader of the quotation
of Joel in Acts 2:19. Verse 31 then recalls the entire scene depicted in Acts 2:1–4: “And while they
were praying, the place where they had gathered was shaken. They were all filled with the Holy
Spirit and began to speak (λαλέω) the word of God with boldness (μετὰ παρρησίας)” (4:31). The use
of λαλέω and μετὰ παρρησίας ties this description back to the believers’ prayer in v. 29 and highlights
a shift in what it means to be called δούλη/δοῦλος κυρίου. The allusion to David in Luke 1:38 evokes
images of human power and authority. Roughly halfway through Luke’s narrative, those images are
transformed. Now, the role of the δοῦλαι/δοῦλοι κυρίου is very specific: empowered by the Spirit,
they are to proclaim God’s word, a point confirmed by the final reference to δοῦλοι in Luke-Acts.
41
That is, God is pouring out the Spirit on everyone, free and slave alike. As noted above, the text of Joel does not specify
any outcome of the pouring out of God’s Spirit on the slaves.
In Acts 16:16–17, a female slave possessed of a “spirit of divination” (πνεῦμα πύθωνα) follows
Paul and his companions around Philippi, screaming, “These people are slaves of the Most High
God, who proclaim to you the way of salvation” (οὗτοι οἱ ἄνθρωποι δοῦλοι τοῦ θεοῦ τοῦ ὑψίστου
εἰσίν, οἵτινες καταγγέλλουσιν ὑμῖν ὁδὸν σωτηρίας [16:17]). Much in the same way that Jesus was
identified as the Son of God by demons (e.g., Luke 4:41), this “Pythian spirit” acknowledges a
higher God42 and underscores what it means to be a “slave of the Lord”—it means to proclaim
God’s salvation.
Luke’s allusion to David in Mary’s declaration as “slave of the Lord” reveals some of the
specific expectations of the coming messiah in the time of Jesus. It helps Luke depict what people
were anticipating in terms of a leader whose rule would see Israel freed from its enemies. Luke’s
challenge was to portray both those expectations and the messianic reality of Jesus. Just as specific
expectations about God’s care, mercy, and deliverance would need to be reshaped in light of this
new reality, so also the image of the “slave of the Lord” would need to be recast. For David, and
briefly for Mary, this appellation could be understood as a position of personal power. In the course
of Luke’s narrative, “slave of the Lord” is transformed to highlight those who are called to proclaim
God’s power, even when that power is manifested in ways that elude expectations.
4. CONCLUSION
Alongside the explicit references to David in Luke 1 stand a number of allusions to David in Luke’s
presentation of Mary. The explicit references have long been the subject of scholarly commentary.
The allusions have been largely ignored. In part, this silence may reflect the relative obscurity of
the references themselves. A more pressing reason, I have argued, is the difficulty readers have
connecting two figures that seem so unconnected. Far from being the only problematic allusions
in Luke’s infancy narrative, these references to David fall into a complex array of allusions that
run the gamut from challenging to downright puzzling. Some scholars are content to keep Luke’s
allusions at arm’s length, viewing them as a collective by which Luke connects the story of Jesus to
the story of Israel. I have been more intrigued by the suggestion that each of these allusions creates
an interplay to be explored within the narrative.
Luke’s allusion to David in the description of Mary as “slave of the Lord” underscores first-century
expectations of a messianic deliverer by whose hand God would “save Israel … from the hand of
all its enemies” (LXX 2 Sam 3:18). This allusion works, not by contriving a deeper connection
between the figures of David and Mary, but by evoking images of a longed-for, victorious past—a
past in which the faithful are envisioned as slaves to the Lord alone. The allusions in Luke 1 do
connect the story of Jesus to the story of Israel. They do so, however, in a manner that is complex
and nuanced. Luke’s are not allusions that merely remind the reader whose history is at stake,
recalling a promise to David and then claiming its fulfillment. Rather, Luke’s allusions remind the
reader just how complicated the story is. They show the reader how people hoped certain promises
would be fulfilled in the coming of the Messiah. Then Luke uses the language of those hopeful
descriptions to explain the actual unfolding of God’s plan. Within this framework, the position of
42
L. T. Johnson, The Acts of the Apostles, SP 5 (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1992), 294.
power Mary claims as ἡ δούλη κυρίου—a “slave” to the Lord and no one else—is transformed. As
the narrative progresses, the δοῦλαι/δοῦλοι κυρίου become those who proclaim the power of God.
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Expanded twentieth anniversary ed. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2006.
Stock, Klemens. “Die Berufung Marias (Lk 1, 26–38).” Biblica 61 (1980): 457–91.
Talbert, Charles. Reading Luke: A Literary and Theological Commentary on the Third Gospel.
New York: Crossroad, 1982.
CHAPTER SIX
Repentance and Turning as a

Unified Motif in Luke-Acts
KINDALEE PFREMMER DE LONG
Multiple scholars have investigated the concept of repentance (μετανοέω) in the New Testament and
early Christianity, often in comparison with repentance in Hebrew, Hellenistic Jewish, Rabbinic,
and Greco-Roman traditions. Only a handful of studies have focused specifically on Luke’s
understanding of repentance, despite the fact that his two-volume narrative prominently features
repentance.1 Others have explored conversion in early Christianity, often focusing on the verb “to
turn” (ἐπιστρέφω).2 In much of this work, scholars have assumed that the Hebrew word for turn
(‫ )ׁשוב‬lies behind both repentance and conversion. By contrast, the only monograph on repentance
in Luke-Acts disputes this view, arguing that repentance does not derive its meaning from “turn”
in the Jewish scriptures. While contributing much, this previous work has not fully appreciated
the extent to which Luke-Acts unites the two concepts of turning and repentance by drawing upon
a fixed word pair in Jewish scripture. In fact, the narrative of Luke-Acts so closely aligns these
concepts that they ought to be understood together as a unified narrative motif.3 To make this case,
the current study revisits the use of ‫ נחם‬and ‫ ׁשוב‬in the MT and μετανοέω and στρέφω (with various
1
I am pleased to contribute this chapter in honor of James H. Charlesworth, whose prolific work has had an immeasurable
impact on historians’ understanding of second-temple Judaism and Christian origins. A version of this study was presented
in the Gospel of Luke session at the 2017 Annual Meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature, Boston, MA.
D. P. Moessner, “Paul in Acts: Preacher of Eschatological Repentance to Israel,” NTS 34 (1988): 96–104; J. N. Bailey,
“Repentance in Luke-Acts” (PhD diss., University of Notre Dame, 1994); G. D. Nave, The Role and Function of Repentance
in Luke-Acts (Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2002); and J. D. Chatraw, “Balancing out (W)Right: Jesus’ Theology of Individual and
Corporate Repentance and Forgiveness in the Gospel of Luke,” JETS 55 (2012): 299–321.
2
A. D. Nock, Conversion: The Old and the New in Religion from Alexander the Great to Augustine of Hippo
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1933); P. Aubin, Le Problème de la “conversion”: Étude sur un terme commun à l’hellénisme et
au christianisme des trois premiers siècles, TH 1 (Paris: Beauchesne, 1963); B. R. Gaventa, From Darkness to Light: Aspects
of Conversion in the New Testament (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1986); R. D. Witherup, Conversion in the New
Testament, Zacchaeus Studies. New Testament (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1994); R. V. Peace, Conversion in the
New Testament: Paul and the Twelve, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2001); Z. A. Crook, Reconceptualising
Conversion: Patronage, Loyalty, and Conversion in the Religions of the Ancient Mediterranean, BZNW 130 (Berlin: W. de
Gruyter, 2004); and G. E. Sterling, “Turning to God: Conversion in Greek-Speaking Judaism and Early Christianity,” in
Scripture and Traditions: Essays on Early Judaism and Christianity in Honor of Carl R. Holladay, edited by Patrick Gray and
Gail R. O’Day, NTS 129 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 69–95. Only a few studies have focused on conversion in Luke or Luke-Acts,
e.g., F. Méndez-Moratalla, The Paradigm of Conversion in Luke, JSNTSup 252 (New York: T&T Clark, 2004).
3
The intent of the current study is to provide a foundation for a full narrative analysis of the motif of turning-and-repentance,
to be published subsequently.
prefixes) in the LXX and Hellenistic Jewish literature; investigates Luke’s distinctive use of στρέφω
vocabulary; and considers three passages in Luke-Acts that set turning and repentance in parallel.
1. SCHOLARSHIP ON REPENTANCE IN LUKE AND ACTS

Research on repentance has largely understood that the use of the word μετανοέω in the New
Testament derives not from its wider use in non-Jewish Greek literature but from the Jewish
scriptures, specifically the word “turn” (‫)ׁשוב‬.4 In the New Testament and other Christian texts
repentance describes a comprehensive sort of change, such as a change of orientation or behavior.
By contrast, in traditional Greek, the word μετανοέω means “to change one’s mind,” in a more
intellectual sense. Thus, scholars conclude that its meaning comes from the Jewish concept of ‫ׁשוב‬.
However, Guy Nave, in the only narrative analysis of repentance in Luke-Acts, contests this
commonly accepted line of thinking.5 His argument has two primary foundations. First, disputing
the idea that μετανοέω means primarily a change of mind in Greek texts, he reexamines this
vocabulary (both the verb and noun) in a wide array of literature, offering evidence that μετανοέω
has a broader meaning, including a change of heart; feelings of regret and remorse; expressions
of lament; guilt in response to inappropriate actions (ἁμαρτία); a cure to those who are sick in
soul; and a means of reconciliation between people. He concludes that μετανοέω in the Christian
tradition corresponds closely with the Greek use of the word.6
Second, to argue against the assumed link between μετανοέω and ‫ׁשוב‬, Nave analyzes the
translation of ‫ ׁשוב‬in the Septuagint. He asserts that the Christian concept of μετανοέω cannot derive
from depictions of ‫ ׁשוב‬in the Jewish scriptures because the LXX always translates ‫ ׁשוב‬with στρέφω
(with various prefixes) and never with μετανοέω (or perhaps only once, depending upon how Isa
46:8 is understood).7 This pattern holds even though ‫ ׁשוב‬frequently describes what would be called
repentance in English: actions such as turning back to God, turning from sin to a right path, or
turning one’s heart. Instead, in the Septuagint, μετανοέω translates ‫נחם‬, which means to comfort or
show compassion and in some cases to convey a “genuine sense of remorse … regarding sin and
wrongdoing.”8
Based on these two points, Nave concludes that ‫ נחם‬not ‫ ׁשוב‬serves as the primary source for the
Christian concept of repentance and that studies of repentance in the early Christian period ought
to bring μετανοέω/μετάνοια out from behind the shadow of ‫ ׁשוב‬to be studied in its own light.9 From
these conclusions, he contends that Luke’s understanding of repentance relies on the Greco-Roman
concept of μετάνοια/μετανοέω (informed by the Jewish semantic field of ‫ )נחם‬and so brackets out
consideration of στρέφω in his subsequent narrative study of repentance in Luke-Acts.
4
Nave, Role and Function, 70–4.
5
Nave’s overall goal in the volume is to examine “how the theme of repentance functions in both the narrative structure of
Luke-Acts and in the social reality of the narrative world created by Luke-Acts” (ibid., 6).
6
Ibid., 70–1.
7
Ibid., 112. Nave acknowledges that the two words may have a symbiotic relationship in Jewish scriptures, but he does not
pursue this line of thought. My argument is that the two words comprise a fixed pair in Jewish scriptures and are so used in
Luke-Acts.
8
Ibid., 118. In later Jewish texts in Greek, the emphasis shifts to a change in thinking and behavior.
9
Ibid., 119.
REPENTANCE AND TURNING IN LUKE-ACTS 69
Nave’s work offers an important corrective to assumptions about the link between μετανοέω and
‫ׁשוב‬. However, it goes too far, as correctives often do, and overlooks a significant aspect of Luke’s
narrative depiction of repentance: in the narrative, the words στρέφω and μετανοέω depict turning-
and-repentance as a parallel word pair, as will be demonstrated below.
2. ‫ ׁשוב‬AND ‫ נחם‬IN THE HEBREW BIBLE

In response to Nave’s argument, it is necessary to revisit the concepts of turning and repentance
in the Hebrew Bible and Septuagint. While Nave’s observation about translation is accurate, the
picture is more complicated than he claims, particularly because when ‫ נחם‬describes what might be
called repentance, it primarily refers to divine activity, rather than human activity, and it is often
paired with ‫ׁשוב‬.
The word ‫ ׁשוב‬occurs frequently in the Jewish scriptures, describing both physical and metaphorical
turns. In about 900 hundred examples, the word portrays physical turns to go somewhere, as well
as the physical turning of one’s attention.10 In 164 instances, ‫ ׁשוב‬depicts metaphorical turning, all
in the context of the divine covenant with Israel.
This covenantal turning can be positive or negative. In twenty-one instances, God does the turning,
either toward the people in mercy or away from them in punishment. Far more often, 123 times,
people in Israel do the turning.11 Negatively, humans turn away from God, often in idolatry, and
toward sin or evil. Positively, humans turn back toward God or the path of righteousness.12 These
turns at times involve not only a change of outward attention or behavior but also an internal change
of mind or heart.13 Human and divine behaviors often mirror each other. When humans turn away
from God, God turns away, a metaphor for punishment or discipline. When humans turn back to God,
God turns to them or turns away from divine punishment, metaphors for restoration and blessing.14
By comparison, the word ‫ נחם‬occurs in the Jewish scriptures far less frequently, 102 times.
About half the time, it means “to comfort,” never translated by μετανοέω.15 There are thirty-seven
instances in which the root ‫ נחם‬means to change one’s mind, attitude, or actions.16 God is the most
frequent subject of the verb in this sense. Only four of the thirty-seven cases depict human activity
10
A comprehensive analysis of the 1,064 instances of ‫ ׁשוב‬in Jewish scripture defines the most basic, physical sense as
movement “in an opposite direction in which one was going with the assumption that one will arrive again at the initial point
of departure”; W. L. Holladay, The Root SǔB̂H in the Old Testament with Particular Reference to Its Usages in Covenantal
Contexts (Leiden: Brill, 1958), 53. To put this another way, it means “to return.” The word can also describe the physical
turning of attention, especially through the idiom of turning one’s face.
11
Most of the examples of Israel turning away or toward God occur in Deuteronomy and Jeremiah.
12
E.g., Ps 85:8; Jer 15:7.
13
For example, in Isa 6:10, the people’s ‫ ׁשוב‬involves changed attention and understanding, as well as healing/restoration.
See also 1 Kgs 8:48.
14
In exilic texts, turning back to God is also associated with return to the land.
15
In such cases, ‫ נחם‬depicts comfort experienced by humans or less frequently by God, particularly in piel but also in other
forms. It is most often—but not always—translated by παρακαλέω.
16
This second most common usage, to depict a change of mind or relenting about a direction one has taken, occurs almost
entirely in the niphal, with the exceptions of Num 23:19 and Deut 32:36. God repents/relents about creation (Gen 6:6–7)
or having made Saul king (1 Sam 15:11, 35). Most often, God relents about covenantal punishment/disaster (Exod 32:12,
14; Deut 32:36; Judg 2:18; 2 Sam 24:16; 1 Chron 21:15; Jer 18:8; 26:3, 13, 19 [LXX 33:3, 13, 19]; 42:10 [LXX 49:10];
Joel 2:13 and 14; Amos 7:3 and 6; and Jonah 3:9, 10 and 4:2) or does not do so (Num 23:19; 1 Sam 15:29; Ps 110:4 [LXX
109:4]; Jer 4:28; 15:6; and 20:16; Ezek 24:14; and Zech 8:14). God’s relenting about punishment is closely associated with
the word’s use in depicting God’s compassion (Pss 90:13 [LXX 89:13] and 106:45 [LXX 105:45]). One verse presents the
in relationship with God: what could be called human repentance.17 The LXX uses μετανοέω to
translate ‫ נחם‬in only fifteen of the thirty-seven instances (in a total of fourteen verses).18
Table 6.1 provides data about these fourteen verses. Most often, ‫ נחם‬describes God relenting,
changing the divine mind, or refusing to do so (lines 1–12). In only two instances does μετανοέω
describe human repentance (lines 13–14). As the table also shows, ten of these fourteen verses set
‫נחם‬/μετανοέω in parallel with ‫ ׁשוב‬and/or στρέφω (line 1 and lines 7–14) or do so in near context (line
6). In one case, the LXX contains a μετανοέω/στρέφω parallelism that is not present in Hebrew (line
1).19 Conversely, in two cases, the MT’s ‫ ׁשוב נחם‬pairing is not reflected in the LXX (lines 13–14).20
The ten examples of repent/turn pairing contain three types of parallelism. First, with God as
the subject of both verbs, the pairing depicts complimentary action in the same direction: God
relents and turns toward humans (lines 8–9) or refuses to do so (line 7). Second, with two subjects,
the pairing portrays complimentary action toward each other: humans turn and so God relents
(lines 10–12).21 Jonah 3:9–10 (lines 9 and 11) well illustrates both single-subject and two-subject
complimentary parallels:
‫מי־יודע יׁשוב ונחם האלהים‬
10
‫וׁשב מחרון אפו ולא נאבד‬
‫וירא האלהים את־מעׂשיהם כי־ׁשבו מדרכם הרעה‬
‫וינחם האלהים על־הרעה אׁשר־דבר לעׂשות־להם‬
‫ולא עׂשה‬
τίς οἶδεν εἰ μετανοήσει ὁ θεὸς22
καὶ ἀποστρέψει ἐξ ὀργῆς θυμοῦ αὐτοῦ καὶ οὐ μὴ ἀπολώμεθα
10
καὶ εἶδεν ὁ θεὸς τὰ ἔργα αὐτῶν ὅτι ἀπέστρεψαν ἀπὸ τῶν ὁδῶν αὐτῶν τῶν πονηρῶν
καὶ μετενόησεν ὁ θεὸς ἐπὶ τῇ κακίᾳ ᾗ ἐλάλησεν τοῦ ποιῆσαι αὐτοῖς
καὶ οὐκ ἐποίησεν
Who knows? God may turn and change his mind;23
he may turn from his fierce anger, so that we do not perish.
When God saw what they did, how they turned from their evil ways,
God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them;
and he did not do it.
possibility that God may relent about blessing (Jer 18:10). When referring to a change of plan, the LXX translates ‫ נחם‬most
often with μετανοέω or μεταμέλω/μεταμέλομαι, but also with παύω (with prefixes), παρακαλέω, and ἐλεέω.
17
The four instances of human changes of mind/repentance will be examined in more detail below. The LXX translates by
μεταμέλω (Exod 13:17), μετανοέω (Jer 8:6; 38:19), and, in one case, in a freer way (Job 42:6). There are two additional cases
in which ‫ נחם‬describes a change of mind about extending human compassion toward other humans (Judg 21:6, 15).
18
In 1 Sam 15:29, μετανοέω translates ‫ נחם‬twice.
19
In 1 Sam 15:29, the LXX uses the word pair ἀποστρέφω and μετανοέω to translate “the Glory of Israel will not lie (‫)ׁשקר‬
nor repent (‫( ”)נחם‬line 1). Translation is JPS.
20
An additional ‫נחם‬/ ‫ׁשוב‬parallel occurs in Exod 13:17. God thinks, “If the people face war, they may change their minds (‫)נחם‬
and return (‫ )ׁשוב‬to Egypt.” The LXX translates the word pair with ἀποστρέφω and μεταμέλω.
21
In Jer 18:8, if humans turn (‫ )ׁשוב‬God will relent (‫)נחם‬. In Jonah 3:10, humans turned (‫)ׁשוב‬, and God relented (‫)נחם‬. In Joel
2:13, humans are called to turn (‫ )ׁשוב‬for God will relent (‫)נחם‬.
22
The LXX eliminates the repetition of ‫ ׁשוב‬in the MT, translating the first ‫נחם‬/‫ ׁשוב‬pair with μετανοέω only.
23
Translation adapted from NRSV, which has “relent” for ‫ׁשוב‬.
TABLE 6.1 LXX Instances of ‫ נחם‬Translated with μετανοέω
Verse Subject of ‫נחם‬ Presence of ‫( ׁשוב‬MT) Type of ‫ׁשוב‬/‫ נחם‬Parallelism Presence of στρέφω Relationship to MT
in LXX
1 1 Sam 15:29 God None ἀποστρέφω Translates ‫ׁשקר‬
2 Amos 7:3 God None
3 Amos 7:6 God None
4 Jonah 4:2 God None
5 Zech 8:14 God None
6 Jer 18:10 God See Jer 18:8 Near context See Jer 18:8
7 Jer 4:28 God Parallels ‫נחם‬ Complimentary, same subject ἀποστρέφω Translates ‫ׁשוב‬
8 Joel 2:14 God Parallels ‫נחם‬ Complimentary, same subject ἐπιστρέφω Translates ‫ׁשוב‬
9 Jonah 3:9 God Parallels ‫נחם‬ Complimentary, same subject ἀποστρέφω Translates ‫ׁשוב‬
10 Jer 18:8 God Parallels ‫נחם‬ Complimentary, divine/human ἐπιστρέφω Translates ‫ׁשוב‬
subjects
11 Jonah 3:10 God Parallels ‫נחם‬ Complimentary, divine/human ἀποστρέφω Translates ‫ׁשוב‬
subjects
12 Joel 2:13 God Parallels ‫נחם‬ Complimentary, divine/human ἐπιστρέφω Translates ‫ׁשוב‬
subjects
13 Jer 8:6 Humans Parallels ‫נחם‬ Oppositional, same subject None
14 Jer 31:19 [LXX Human Parallels ‫נחם‬ Oppositional, same subject None
38:19]
In the first two lines in the MT, God’s turning (from his anger) and relenting are essentially the
same action of averting calamity for the people. The third and fourth lines describe both sides of the
relationship. Because the people turn from evil, God relents from the calamity planned. The parallelism
of the poetry creates a sense of balanced action: the people turn, and God turns/relents.
Third, with humans as the subject of ‫נחם‬, turn/repent pairings in the MT describe oppositional
parallels (lines 13–14): the action of humans in opposite directions. In Jer 8:6, humans refuse to repent
(toward God) and instead turn to their own course (away from God) (line 13). In Jer 31:19 [LXX
38:19], the speaker looks back on a turn (away from God) followed later by repentance (coming back
to God) (line 14). However, the LXX does not retain these pairings. In Jer 8:6, the LXX has “the
runner discontinues (διαλείπω) his course” for the MT’s “all turn (‫ )ׁשוב‬to their own course.” In Jer
31:19 [LXX 38:19], the LXX translates the MT’s “after I turned away (‫ ”)ׁשוב‬as “after my captivity
(αἰχμαλωσία).” The MT contains one additional example in which ‫ נחם‬connotes human repentance
before God, when Job repents in dust and ashes at the end of the book (42:6), but the LXX does not
retain the connotation of repentance; in Greek, Job considers (ἡγέομαι) himself dust and ashes.
Nave has argued that ‫ נחם‬provides the primary thought foundation for human repentance
(μετανοέω) in the Christian tradition. But the analysis above shows that (1) in the LXX, there are
only two instances of human repentance described with the word μετανοέω; (2) in both of these
cases, the MT sets ‫ נחם‬and ‫ ׁשוב‬in parallel; and (3) eight of the other twelve verses in which μετανοέω
appears pair this word with a στρέφω verb (or do so in near context).
Rather than showing that ‫ נחם‬provides the sole foundation for human μετανοέω, this evidence
suggests that in the Jewish scriptural tradition, repenting/relenting (‫נחם‬/μετανοέω) becomes
associated with covenantal turning (‫ׁשוב‬/στρέφω) through parallelism—both in the MT (rows 6–14)
and LXX (rows 1, 6–12)—so that the two words become nearly synonymous in such contexts. God
changes the divine mind about punishment, turning toward humans in mercy (or refuses to do so).
So, too, do humans change their plan/path and turn back toward God, receiving mercy (or they
refuse to do so).
Expanding beyond the fifteen instances in which μετανοέω translates ‫נחם‬, there are eight
additional biblical texts that also feature this turn/repent parallelism, in the MT, LXX, or both, as
depicted in Table 6.2.
These examples have turn/repent parallels similar to those in Table 6.1, but with a higher
percentage of human repentance (rows 5–8). With regard to the use of μετανοέω, this word twice
describes human repentance, paired with a στρέφω verb in both cases (lines 7–8).
The evidence above argues against Nave’s assertion that ‫ נחם‬alone lies behind μετανοέω in
Christian texts. Rather, it shows that “repent and turn” constitute a word pair: what scholars
of Hebrew poetry have called “fixed pairs” or “parallel pairs.”24 Word pairs appear together
frequently, in parallel lines or in the same line, often joined by “and.”25 They can be similar, such
as hand and palm, or opposite, such as day and night. In synonymous fixed pairs, the words need
not be precisely synonymous but are in “some sense equivalent.”26 Fixed pairs, writes James Kugel,
“strongly establish the feeling of correspondence between A and B … [W]‌ith the most frequently
24
A. Berlin, The Dynamics of Biblical Parallelism (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2008), 65–80; J. L. Kugel, The Idea of
Biblical Poetry: Parallelism and Its History (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1981), 27–35.
25
Kugel, Idea, 28.
26
Berlin, Dynamics, 71.
TABLE 6.2 Additional Turn/Repent Parallels in the MT or LXX
Verse Turn: Vocabulary Repent: Vocabulary Type of Turn/Repent Parallelism Content

and Subject and Subject
1Exod 32:12 ‫ׁשוב‬ ‫נחם‬ Complimentary, same subject Moses asks God to turn from fierce wrath and
παύω ὀργῆς γίνομαι ἵλεως relent from bringing disaster.
God God
21 Sam 15:11 ‫ׁשוב‬ ‫נחם‬ Complimentary, divine/human Saul has turned from God, so God regrets having
ἀποστρέφω παρακαλέω subjects made Saul king
Human God
3Ps 90:13 [LXX ‫ׁשוב‬ ‫נחם‬ Complimentary, same subject The speaker calls God to turn and have
89:13] ἐπιστρέφω παρακαλέω compassion.
God God
4Isa 12:1 ‫ׁשוב‬ ‫נחם‬ Complimentary, same subject God was angry but turned God’s face [toward
ἀποστρέφω ἐλεέω me], and comforted me.
God God
5Exod 13:17 ‫ׁשוב‬ ‫נחם‬ Complimentary, same subject God thinks that the people may change their
ἀποστρέφω μεταμέλω minds and return to Egypt.
Humans Humans
6Jer 26:3 [LXX ‫ׁשוב‬ ‫נחם‬ Complimentary, divine/human Humans may turn from their evil ways, and God
33:3] ἀποστρέφω παύω subjects may relent about punishment.
Humans God
7Isa 46:8 ‫ׁשוב‬ No Hebrew parallel Complimentary, same subject “Recall (‫ )ׁשוב‬it to mind, you transgressors.” (MT)
μετανοέω
ἀποστρέφω “Repent, you wanderers. Turn in your heart.”
Humans (LXX)
Humans
8Sir 17:24–25 No Hebrew No Hebrew Complimentary, same subject Those who repent will be comforted, so turn to
the Lord and pray.
ἐπιστρέφω μετανοέω
Humans Humans
used pairs, the appearance of the first in itself creates the anticipation of its fellow, and when the
latter comes it creates a harmonious feeling of completion and satisfaction.”27 Fixed pairs may
be identified, in part, by frequency of occurrence. Adele Berlin, drawing upon psycholinguistic
research, describes two types of word pairs in the Hebrew Bible: common pairs created through
easily produced word associations and less common pairs that are the “product of more careful
thought.”28
In total, combining the data in Tables 6.1 and 6.2, the MT contains fourteen examples of the
words ‫ ׁשוב‬and ‫ נחם‬occurring together.29 The LXX includes nine instances of the word pair στρέφω
and μετανοέω, including two verses in which the Greek translators introduce the word pair when
it is not present in Hebrew (1 Sam 15:29; Isa 46:8) and one case in which the Hebrew is not
extant (Sir 17:24–25).30 In all cases, these word pairs are joined by “and” or appear in single- or
multiline parallelism. This evidence suggests that they are a word pair of Berlin’s second type: not
an extremely common, traditional pair (such as voice and words), frequent throughout Hebrew
poetry, but a pair that emerges later, in the prophets, perhaps influenced by Exodus and 1 Samuel.
Over time, the more common concept of ‫ׁשוב‬, in its metaphorical sense of covenantal turning
toward (or away) from God, becomes associated with ‫( נחם‬and thus μετανοέω) in the sense of a
change of mind, plan, or behavior that results in a compassionate (on the part of God) or repentant
(on the part of humans) return to positive relationship.
3. TURN AND REPENT PARALLELS IN OTHER EARLY

JEWISH LITERATURE IN GREEK
In later Jewish literature in Greek, this word pair is infrequent, but it does appear. I have found
five examples. In J.W. 5.415–416, Josephus speaks to people in besieged Jerusalem, seeking to
convince them to surrender. He exhorts that God will be reconciled to those who confess their
faults and repent of them (μετανοέω). His next sentence urges them to turn (ἐπιστρέφω) from their
wicked ways.
In Ios. 1.87, Philo, describing Joseph’s time in prison, from the Genesis story, asserts that the
cruelty and inhumanity of jailors is well known. Even so, the virtue of Joseph transforms his jailor,
who gives over the running of the prison to Joseph. Instead of torturing the inmates, Joseph teaches
them philosophy. Joseph’s interventions turn (ἐπιστρέφω) even those who seemed morally incurable,
so that they repent (μετανοέω) of what they have previously done.
In other literature, two passages evidence complimentary, single-subject parallelism. In the
fragmentary Apocryphon of Ezekiel, God calls the house of Israel to repent (μετανοέω). Even if
their sins reach heaven, if they turn (ἐπιστρέφω) and say in their heart, “Father,” God will listen.31
27
Kugel, Idea, 29.
28
Berlin, Dynamics, 69.
29
Lam 1:16 could be added as a fifteenth example. In this verse, the speaker weeps because of the distance of a comforter
(‫ )נחם‬who could return (‫ )ׁשוב‬his soul. I have not counted it because ‫ נחם‬in piel in this verse means comfort, rather than
a changed plan, and “return my soul” is a Hebrew idiom meaning something along the same lines. LXX translates with
παρακαλέω/ἐπιστρέφω.
30
However, there are also nine instances in which the LXX does not translate ‫נחם‬/‫ ׁשוב‬with στρέφω/μετανοέω, if Lam 1:16 is
included.
31
Apocr. Ezek. 2:1, OTP 1:494.
Similarly, in the Testament of Abraham, God describes divine compassion on sinners in the hope
that they may “turn (ἐπιστρέφω) and live, repent (μετανοέω) of their sins and be saved.”32 In the
Testament of Zebulun, the word pair appears in complimentary, divine-human parallelism. Israel
will repent (μετανοέω), and the Lord will return (ἐπιστρέφω) to the people, for God is merciful and
compassionate (9:7).33 Such examples show that the word pair remained in use during the late
Second Temple period.
4. LUKE’S EMPHASIS ON TURNING

Before exploring how Luke uses the turn/repent word pair, it is useful to explore Luke’s overall
emphasis on turning, depicted through στρέφω with a variety of prefixes. Luke-Acts portrays both
literal and metaphorical turns in distinctive ways.
With regard to emphasis, μετάνοια and μετανοέω appear twenty-three times in Luke and Acts.
Verbs related to στρέφω (and on one occasion a noun) appear three times more often: sixty-nine
times across the two volumes, with a bit more emphasis in the Gospel.34 By comparison, στρέφω
verbs for turn appear only forty times in the rest of the New Testament. In other words, Luke’s
work contains 63 percent of the NT’s στρέφω-related vocabulary.
Many instances of this vocabulary (forty-six) describe physical turns.35 Characters’ movements
are of two sorts: they either turn to face another character or they turn toward a location in order
to relocate there, often returning to home or a place of familiarity, as depicted in Table 6.3.
Many interpreters have seen these physical uses of στρέφω as simple narrative technique, perhaps
modeled on the Septuagint. While style may comprise part of the explanation for Luke’s frequent
depictions of physical turning, it is not the whole story. Luke’s language of physical turning is
distinctive in other ways, both in the narrative’s use of the word ὑποστρέφω and its scenes in which
characters turn toward other characters.
Luke uses the word ὑποστρέφω almost exclusively to describe characters’ physical turns to return
to a previous location.36 By comparison, in the LXX, physical turns to go appear frequently, but
not typically with the word ὑποστρέφω, which occurs only sixteen times in the LXX and translates
‫ ׁשוב‬only nine times.37 Thus, even though Luke’s use of ὑποστρέφω may reflect the MT’s use of ‫ׁשוב‬
32
T. Ab. B 12:13; OTP 1:901.
33
T. Zeb. 9:7; OTP 1:807.
34
στρέφω verbs for turn and one noun appear thirty-nine times in Luke and thirty times in Acts. Luke is the only NT writer
to use the noun ἐπιστροφή (Acts 15:3).
35
In a few instances, στρέφω verbs have meanings other than “turn.”
36
The single exception is Acts 13:34, where Paul describes the resurrection as Jesus not returning to decay. In every other case,
the word ὑποστρέφω means a physical return to a physical place, accounting for thirty-two of thirty-six such turns in Luke-Acts.
At the beginning of the Gospel, Mary returns home after visiting Elizabeth (Luke 1:56). At the end of Acts, soldiers return to
Jerusalem after taking Paul to Antipatris (Acts 23:31). In between, a variety of characters return places, often home (Luke 2:20,
43; 7:10; 8:39; 11:24; 19:12; and 23:48; Acts 8:28 and 21:6) or a place from which they have recently departed (Luke 2:45;
4:1, 14; 8:40; 9:10; 10:17; 17:15, 18; 23:56; and 24:9, 33, and 52; Acts 1:12; 8:25; 12:25; 20:3; and 22:17). There are four
other “returns” in Luke’s narrative. Three are narrated with ἐπιστρέφω: Jesus’ family returns to Galilee (Luke 2:39), the spirit
of Jairus’s daughter returns (Luke 8:55), and Paul and Barnabas return to cities they have visited previously (Acts 15:36). In the
fourth instance, Luke uses ἀναστρέφω to describe the temple police returning to the council with a report (Acts 5:22).
37
Nor is ὑποστρέφω common in the NT, occurring only three times outside of Luke-Acts. It describes Paul’s return to
Damascus (Gal 1:17), the return of Abraham from defeating enemies (Heb 7:1), and the metaphorical turning back of
apostate followers of Christ (2 Pet 2:21).
TABLE 6.3 στρέφω and Physical Movement in Luke-Acts
Vocabulary Gospel of Luke Book of Acts Count

Turning to go or go back 25 times 1:56; 2:20, 39, 43, 12 times 1:12; 5:22; 8:25, 28; 37
ἀναστρέφω, ἐπιστρέφω, 45; 4:1, 14; 7:10; 8:37, 39, 11:30; 12:25; 13:13; 14:21;
ὑποστρέφω 40, 55; 9:10; 10:17; 11:24; 20:3; 21:6; 22:17; 23:32
17:15, 18, 31; 19:12, 15;
23:48, 56; 24:9, 33; 24:52
Turning toward someone 7 times 7:9, 44; 9:55; 10:23; 2 times 9:40; 16:18 9
ἐπιστρέφω, στρέφω 14:25; 22:61; 23:2
for physical turning to go somewhere, the difference in Greek vocabulary suggests that it is not a
simple reflection of Septuagint-style narration.
Luke’s narration of one character turning attention to another is also idiosyncratic. In the
Gospel, the narrator describes only Jesus turning his attention to other characters. Jesus does
so seven times—always with the verb στρέφω, without a prefix—once to look (Luke 22:61) and
six times to speak (Luke 7:9, 44; 9:55; 10:23; 14:25; 23:28). This way of telling Jesus’ story
stands out by comparison with the other Gospels.38 Five of the seven scenes of Jesus’ turns in
Luke can be compared with Synoptic parallels. In all five cases, Luke’s Gospel includes this
turning by Jesus when the other Gospels do not. While in Luke, only Jesus turns his attention
to other characters, in Matthew and John, a variety of characters other than Jesus turn their
attention.39
The distinctive consistency and frequency in Luke’s Gospel of Jesus as the one who turns to look
or speak suggests that these turns by Jesus are not simple descriptions of physical action. Rather,
the narrator is directing the attention of the audience to these moments of Jesus’s attention.40 In
Acts, Peter and Paul, like Jesus, each turn to speak to other characters, before a resuscitation and an
exorcism.41 This brief survey suggests that physical turns may be a meaningful part of Luke’s motif
of turning and deserve more exploration.42
38
In Mark and Matthew, Jesus turns only twice. In the scene of the hemorrhaging woman in Mark, Jesus turns about
(ἐπιστρέφω) in the crowd, to see who touched him (5:30), while in Matthew, he turns (στρέφω) directly to the woman and
speaks to her (9:22). Luke does not depict this turning. In the scene of Jesus’ rebuke of Peter, which Luke does not include,
Jesus turns (ἐπιστρέφω) to the disciples in Mark (8:33) and in Matthew, he turns (στρέφω) to Peter (16:23). John presents
Jesus turning (στρέφω) toward someone only one time (John 1:38).
39
In Matthew, people turn their cheeks (5:39) and pigs turn their attention to attack (7:6). In John, characters besides Jesus
turn their attention three times (1:38; 20:14, 16; and 21:20). In Mark, Jesus alone turns his attention in the two scenes
described in the previous footnote.
40
Jesus declares to a crowd the faith of a centurion (Luke 7:9); forgives the sins of the woman who has washed his feet
(7:44); rebukes James and John for wanting to destroy a Samaritan village (9:55); blesses the disciples because they see and
hear (10:23); calls his followers to carry the cross and give up their possessions (14:25); looks at Peter after his betrayal,
causing Peter to remember his words about the rooster’s crow (22:61); and warns the weeping daughters of Jerusalem about
coming travails (23:28).
41
In Acts, Peter and Paul also each turn to speak before miraculous interventions. Peter turns to the body of Tabitha and says,
“Tabitha, get up” (Acts 9:40). In Acts 16:18, Paul, annoyed by a young enslaved woman with a Pythian spirit, turns to her
and says to the Spirit, “I order you in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her.”
42
This feature of Luke’s narrative has been observed by a few scholars, e.g., J. B. Green, The Gospel of Luke, NIC (Grand
Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997), 788.
TABLE 6.4 στρέφω and Metaphorical Turns in Luke-Acts
Vocabulary Gospel of Luke Book of Acts Count

Positive turning 4 times 1:16, 17; 17:4; 12 times 3:19, 26; 7:39; 9:35; 11:21; 16
22:32 13:34; 14:15; 15:3, 19; 26:18, 20;
ἀποστρέφω, ἐπιστρέφω,
28:27
ἐπιστροφή, ὑποστρέφω
Negative turning 3 times 9:41; 23:2, 14 4 times 7:39; 13:8, 10; 20:30 7
ἀποστρέφω, διαστρέφω,
ἐπιστρέφω, στρέφω
Luke’s depiction of metaphorical turns is also unique. The narrative describes twenty-three
instances of metaphorical turning by humans: seven times in the Gospel and sixteen in Acts, as
depicted in Table 6.4.
These moments in the story depict people turning themselves to or away from God, truth,
forgiveness, or the correct path, or having this effect on others. Sixteen of these examples of
metaphorical turning are positive; seven are negative. One instance combines physical and
metaphorical turning (Acts 7:39). Metaphorical turning appears with almost the same frequency as
μετάνοια/μετανοέω: twenty-three instances compared with twenty-four. While metaphorical turning
includes negative turns, repentance is a consistently positive action. Even so, if one asserts that
Luke emphasizes repentance, one ought to recognize concurrently that the narrative focuses on
metaphorical turning to the same degree.
An audience familiar with the Septuagint, hearing Luke’s emphasis on both repentance and turning,
would naturally view these sixteen positive turns as roughly equivalent, if not synonymous with,
repentance (and the seven negative turns as the opposite). Characters in Luke-Acts turn toward and
away from God, and their turning toward God can also be called μετάνοια. To state this differently,
in Luke-Acts, the vocabulary of turning and repentance comprises a single narrative motif: in order
to appreciate fully Luke’s picture of repentance, we must also consider his portrayal of turning.
5. THREE TURN AND REPENT PARALLELS IN LUKE-ACTS

While a reader familiar with the Septuagint would likely recognize turning and repentance as
equivalent, Luke does not leave it to his audience to make this connection themselves. Rather, he
explicitly connects the words “turn” and “repent.” In other words, his narration reflects the turn/
repent word pair evident in the Jewish scriptures and a handful of other early Jewish texts. Luke
does this three times, and he is the only New Testament writer to link these words.43
Luke 17:3–4 includes turning and repentance together, in the context of relationships among
humans, when Jesus urges his disciples to offer generous forgiveness to a brother or sister who
repents. The parallelism of this saying can be presented in an ABAB pattern:44
43
Joseph Fitzmyer is the only commentator I have found who notes the pairing of turning and repentance in these three
passages, in his Gospel According to Luke, 2 vols., ABC 28a–28b (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1981–5), 238.
44
John Jebb’s book-length treatment of parallelism in the New Testament identifies numerous examples, including many
from Luke’s writing; see J. Jebb, Sacred Literature: Comprising a Review of the Principles of Composition Laid Down by the
A1 Ἐὰν ἁμάρτῃ ὁ ἀδελφός σου ἐπιτίμησον αὐτῷ,

B 1
καὶ ἐὰν μετανοήσῃ ἄφες αὐτῷ.
A 2
καὶ ἐὰν ἑπτάκις τῆς ἡμέρας ἁμαρτήσῃ εἰς σὲ
B2 καὶ ἑπτάκις ἐπιστρέψῃ πρὸς σὲ λέγων· μετανοῶ, ἀφήσεις αὐτῷ.
A1 If your brother against you sins, rebuke him,
B1 and if he repents, forgive him.
A2 If seven times in a day he sins against you,
B2 and seven times turns to you saying “I repent,” you will forgive him.
Lines A2 and B2 repeat the imagery of lines A1 and B1 but also expand and deepen it. Line A2 augments
the picture of the offender’s sin (ἁμαρτία) by a factor of seven, while dropping the victim’s rebuke.
In the same way, B2 depicts a corresponding sevenfold amplification of the offender’s repentance
(μετανοέω), adding the word picture of the offender turning (ἐπιστρέφω) to the victim with direct
speech of repentance.45 The phrase “he repents” is in parallel construction with “turns to you
saying ‘I repent.’ ”46 The metaphorical turn by the offender corresponds with his repentance.47 This
turn/repent pairing is unique to Luke; the parallel logion in Matthew includes only sin, forgiveness,
and the factor of seven.48
In Acts 3:19, turning and repentance occur together in the context of the divine–human
relationship. Peter addresses a crowd in Jerusalem, following the healing of a man at the temple
gate. After explaining that the Jewish scriptures anticipate the necessity of the Messiah’s suffering,
Peter tells his audience to “repent (μετανοέω) therefore and turn (ἐπιστρέφω),” with the result that
their sins may be wiped out. The speech goes on to describe the audience as the recipients of
Abraham’s blessing to all the families of the earth (3:25). It concludes with a description of Jesus as
a servant-prophet who will bless them first by turning (ἀποστρέφω) them from their wicked ways.
The word first (πρῶτος) here indicates that the blessing of turning comes first to Israel, resulting in
Late Robert Lowth in His Praelections and Isaiah; and an Application of the Principles So Reviewed, to the Illustration of the
New Testament; in a Series of Critical Observations on the Style and Structure of That Sacred Volume (London: J. Duncan,
1831). In 1975, K. Bailey, perhaps unaware of this earlier work, called for a “new Bishop Lowth” to study parallelism in
the New Testament, beyond quotations from the Jewish Bible, K. E. Bailey, “Parallelism in the New Testament—Needed: A
New Bishop Lowth,” BT 26 (1975): 333–8. His own short study identified parallelism in eight New Testament passages, six
of them in the Gospel of Luke. Tyson looks at parallelism in the Synoptic Gospels, J. B. Tyson, “Sequential Parallelism in
the Synoptic Gospels,” NTS 22 (1976): 276–308. Although one might wish to question individual instances of parallelism
identified by these scholars, together their work lays a foundation for recognizing that parallelism infuses the thinking and
writing of Luke, especially in the direct speech of characters. Recently, Plisch has argued, vis-à-vis a similar saying in the
Gospel of Thomas, for chiastic parallelism (ABBA) in Matt 7:6. When this parallelism is recognized, in his view the meaning
of this difficult saying becomes clear, Uwe-Karsten Plisch, “ ‘Perlen vor die Säue’– Mt 7,6 im Licht von EvThom 93,” ZAC
13 (2009): 55–61.
45
In B2, the victim’s forgiveness is anticipated not commanded, as in B1.
46
Berlin describes this kind of complex equivalency: “the second line substitutes something grammatically different, but
equivalent, for a grammatical feature in the first line” (Dynamics, 32).
47
One might object that the word “turn” in this logion depicts rather a simple physical turning to speak. However, both the
context and the parallelism indicate that this turn represents the offender’s intent to return to a relationship that has been
damaged.
48
Fitzmyer, Luke, 1139.
their turn from sin. As Carl Holladay notes, “Israel’s obedience is seen as the means through which
God’s promise will be extended to all the peoples of the earth.”49
Peter’s speech in Acts 3 parallels Luke 17:3–4 in two additional ways. First, the sinner is
challenged to change what is evil or defective: in Luke 17, this is the victim’s rebuke, and in Acts
3, it is the call to turn from wickedness in Acts 3:26. Second, the turn/repent actions result in sins
being forgiven (ἀφίημι) or wiped out (ἐξαλείφω). By my count, the link between turning and God’s
forgiveness, wiping out, or not remembering sin appears ten times in Jewish scriptural texts.50 For
example, LXX Isa 55:7 exhorts:
let the impious forsake his ways,
and the lawless man his plans,
and let him return to the Lord, and [the Lord] will have mercy
because [God] will abundantly forgive your sins51
ἀπολιπέτω ὁ ἀσεβὴς τὰς ὁδοὺς αὐτοῦ
καὶ ἀνὴρ ἄνομος τὰς βουλὰς αὐτοῦ
καὶ ἐπιστραφήτω ἐπὶ κύριον καὶ ἐλεηθήσεται
ὅτι ἐπὶ πολὺ ἀφήσει τὰς ἁμαρτίας ὑμῶν
By contrast, divine forgiveness (ἄφεσις or ἀφίημι) does not proceed from human repentance in
Jewish texts in Greek.52 Repentance for forgiveness of sins is, of course, a key theme in Luke-Acts,
appearing in the ministry of John (Luke 3:3); Jesus’ commission to the disciples (Luke 24:47) and
preaching to the people in Jerusalem (Acts 2:38; 5:31); and Peter’s dialogue with the magician
Simon (Acts 8:22). Do such scenes evoke the exhortations of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel to turn
and receive forgiveness? Luke’s narrative suggests that they do. By connecting forgiveness with the
word pair “turn and repent,” Peter’s speech signals to the audience that the multiple exhortations
to repent in the narrative are akin to the prophetic call to turn for forgiveness. In other words,
Peter’s speech indicates that the narrative’s important theme of repentance for forgiveness of sins
ought to be understood through the biblical imagery of turning to God.
Luke links turning and repentance a third time in Acts 26:20. There, Paul, speaking to Agrippa
II, describes how, in obedience to the Damascus road vision, he has traveled around declaring to
both Jews and Gentiles that they should “repent and turn to God and do deeds consistent with
repentance.” As in the Acts 3 passage, the pairing of turn and repent results in moral reform. This
call for changed behavior also echoes that of John the Baptist who, in Luke 3, exhorts his audience
to “bear fruits worthy of repentance” (v. 8).
49
C. R. Holladay, Acts: A Commentary (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2016), 121.
50
1 Kgs 8:33–36, 46–50; 2 Chr 6:24–27, 36–39; 7:14; Isa 44:22; 55:7; Jer 36:3 [LXX 43:3]; Ezek 33:14–16; and Pr Man
1:7–11. In Isa 44:22, divine forgiveness precedes the people’s turn. Isa 55:7 contains the word “forgive” but not “sin.”
51
Translation is NETS.
52
While I have found no example of human repentance followed by divine forgiveness in Jewish literature in Greek, there
are four examples that come close. Wis 11:23 portrays God as overlooking sin so that people will repent. Similarly, Wis
12:18–19 depicts God’s forbearance, which fills people with hope, because God gives repentance for sins. Sir 17:24–26
asserts that for those who repent, God will grant a return, going on to call the audience to turn back to God and forsake sins,
praying that God will lessen human offense. Referring to the time after Elisha, Sir 48:15 describes how the people neither
repented nor forsook their sins.
Immediately before making this statement, Paul recalls the words of Jesus in his vision; Jesus
has sent Paul to the Gentiles so that they may turn from darkness to light and from the power
of Satan to God, receiving forgiveness of sins (Acts 26:18). In Acts 3, Peter’s words focused on
the preparation of the people of Israel to extend Abraham’s blessing to the nations. Now, Paul
recollects Jesus’ words to describe the same turning and repentance for forgiveness as the goal for
the Gentiles. The word pair functions to connect two images from the prophets: the call to Israel
to turn to God and the “light to nations” passages.
The overall picture is that first, people within Israel receive the prophetic (and eschatological)
call to turn away from wicked actions to God in repentance and then that the Gentiles receive a
similar call to turn away from darkness and Satan (and by implication wicked actions) to God in
repentance. Both turnings result in moral reform: deeds worthy of or consistent with repentance.
6. CONCLUSION
Distinctively, Luke-Acts sets turning and repentance in parallel three times while evoking the
prophetic call to turn to God. These parallels continue a tradition in Jewish literature of pairing
the vocabulary of turning and repentance. As a result, these exhortations to “turn” call to mind for
the audience appeals to repent and vice versa. This picture challenges Nave’s assertion that turning
ought to be bracketed out when investigating repentance in Luke-Acts. Rather, because turning and
repentance comprise a unified narrative motif, interpreters should consider the narrative’s focus on
and distinctive depiction of turning when investigating the theme of repentance in Luke’s work.
7. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Aubin, Paul. Le problème de la “conversion”: étude sur un terme commun à l’hellénisme et au christianisme des
trois premiers siècles. ThH. Paris: Beauchesne, 1963.
Bailey, Jon Nelson. “Repentance in Luke-Acts.” PhD diss., University of Notre Dame, 1994.
Bailey, Kenneth E. “Parallelism in the New Testament—Needed: A New Bishop Lowth.” BT 26 (1975): 333–8.
Berlin, Adele. The Dynamics of Biblical Parallelism. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2008.
Chatraw, Joshua D. “Balancing out (W)Right: Jesus’ Theology of Individual and Corporate Repentance and
Forgiveness in the Gospel of Luke.” JETS 55 (2012): 299–321.
Crook, Zeba A. Reconceptualising Conversion: Patronage, Loyalty, and Conversion in the Religions of the
Ancient Mediterranean. BZNW 130. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2004.
Fitzmyer, Joseph A. The Gospel According to Luke. 2 vols. AB 28a–28b. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1981–5.
Gaventa, Beverly Roberts. From Darkness to Light: Aspects of Conversion in the New Testament. Philadelphia,
PA: Fortress Press, 1986.
Green, Joel B. The Gospel of Luke. NICNT. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997.
Holladay, Carl R. Acts: A Commentary. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2016.
Holladay, William Lee. The Root SǔB̂H in the Old Testament with Particular Reference to Its Usages in
Covenantal Contexts. Leiden: Brill, 1958.
Jebb, John. Sacred Literature: Comprising a Review of the Principles of Composition Laid Down by the Late
Robert Lowth in His Praelections and Isaiah; and an Application of the Principles So Reviewed, to the
Illustration of the New Testament; in a Series of Critical Observations on the Style and Structure of That
Sacred Volume. London: J. Duncan, 1831.
Kugel, James L. The Idea of Biblical Poetry: Parallelism and Its History. New Haven, CT: Yale University
Press, 1981.
Méndez-Moratalla, Fernando. The Paradigm of Conversion in Luke. JSNTSup. New York: T&T Clark, 2004.
Moessner, David P. “Paul in Acts: Preacher of Eschatological Repentance to Israel.” NTS 34 (1988): 96–104.
Nave, Guy D. The Role and Function of Repentance in Luke-Acts. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical
Literature, 2002.
Nock, Arthur Darby. Conversion: The Old and the New in Religion from Alexander the Great to Augustine of
Hippo. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1933.
Peace, Richard V. Conversion in the New Testament: Paul and the Twelve. 2nd ed. Grand Rapids,
MI: Eerdmans, 2001.
Plisch, Uwe-Karsten. “ ‘Perlen Vor Die Säue’—Mt 7,6 Im Licht Von EvThom 93.” ZAC 13 (2009): 55–61.
Sterling, Gregory E. “Turning to God: Conversion in Greek-Speaking Judaism and Early Christianity.” Pages
69–95 in Scripture and Traditions: Essays on Early Judaism and Christianity in Honor of Carl R. Holladay.
Edited by Patrick Gray and Gail R. O’Day. NTS 129. Leiden: Brill, 2008.
Tyson, Joseph B. “Sequential Parallelism in the Synoptic Gospels.” NTS 22 (1976): 276–308.
Witherup, Ronald D. Conversion in the New Testament. Zacchaeus Studies: New Testament. Collegeville,
MN: Liturgical Press, 1994.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Do Mark 16:9–20 and John

7:53–8:11 Belong in Our Bibles?
A Case Study in the Intersection
of Textual Criticism and
Canonical Considerations
LOREN L. JOHNS
1. STATING THE QUESTION

The focal question in the title of this essay is both simple and straightforward. From a textual-
critical perspective, the answer, if not simple, is clear: Neither of these readings belongs to the
best text of the gospels. From a canonical perspective, the answer is similarly clear: Both texts
have a long history in the life of the church and therefore deserve a place in the text. The problem
before us is what to do when the results of solid textual criticism conflict with those of canonical
considerations, as they do here.1
Despite the practical and pressing necessity of doing something with these texts every time a Bible
translation comes out or is revised, there is surprisingly little literature discussing the problem at the
theoretical level. The canonical boundaries of any community of faith cannot limit anyone doing
serious historical work. But since historical and theological inquiry can never be fully separated,
even theological work on canonical texts needs to take into consideration noncanonical texts.2
Dr. James H. Charlesworth has done significant work throughout his career in both “canonical”
and “noncanonical” texts, arguing that even apart from the substantial inherent value in studying
noncanonical literature, any serious Jesus Research or New Testament studies requires advanced
1
Canonical criticism focuses on the function of biblical texts in communities of faith. In the present essay, I use the phrase
“canonical considerations” to refer to the interrelated role of Wirkungsgeschichte (the history of a text’s effects) and canonical
criticism, broadly considered, in valuing any passage, based on the authority attributed to it by communities of faith over a
long period of time.
2
For a compelling argument to this effect, see G. W. E. Nickelsburg, “Why Study the Extra-Canonical Literature? A Historical
and Theological Essay,” Neotestamentica 28 (1994): 181–204.
knowledge in the history and literature of late Second Temple Judaism—a knowledge best acquired
through dedicated study of the primary documents.3
2. MARK 16:9–20: THE EVIDENCE

So what is the evidence with regard to Mark 16:9–20? It is a matter of strong consensus among
New Testament scholars that Mark 16:9–20 and John 7:53–8:11 were not original to those gospels.
Because this ground has been plowed at length, in what follows I am simply summarizing the results
of scholarship.4
I will admit here at the outset of a niggling misgiving about how textual criticism is normally
practiced in the field of New Testament. In general, scholars tend to treat textual transmission as a
linear phenomenon confined within the realm of “textualism” as distinct from oral tradition. Today
an increasing number of scholars are emphasizing the fluidity between textual and oral cultures in
the ancient world in ways that complicate the field of textual criticism as it is normally practiced.5
I expect that we will see in the coming years a rethinking of how orality/textuality studies can add
perspective to the traditional practice of textual criticism.
The last twelve verses of Mark are missing from the two oldest Greek manuscripts that we have
for this part of Mark, Codex Vaticanus (B) and Codex Sinaiticus (‫)א‬, both of which date from the
fourth century ce. They are missing from the fourth or fifth-century Old Latin Codex Bobiensis.6
They are missing from the old Syriac Codex Cyrus Sinaiticus. About one hundred early Armenian
manuscripts and the two oldest Georgian manuscripts7 do not have them. Neither Clement of
Alexandria (ca. 150–ca. 215 ce) nor Origen (ca. 185–254) shows any awareness of these verses.
A century or so later, Eusebius (ca. 260–340) and Jerome (ca. 345–420) are aware of these verses,
but they both note that almost all of the Greek manuscripts available to them—including the most
accurate ones—do not have the passage.8 These verses were not included in the earliest known
versification system, dating from the early third century.9 Most of the Greek manuscripts that come
3
Charlesworth and Lee McDonald rightly note that even the terminology of “canonical” and “noncanonical” is problematic,
since the definitions of the terms themselves depend on a given community of faith in a given time and setting that postdates
Second Temple Judaism. As a result, the terms are often used anachronistically when referring to the Scriptures of the
Jewish and “Christian” communities of the first century ce. For a helpful consideration of the issues, see L. M. McDonald
and J. H. Charlesworth, “Introduction: ‘Non-Canonical’ Religious Texts in Early Judaism and Early Christianity,” in “Non-
Canonical” Religious Texts in Early Judaism and Early Christianity, ed. L. M. McDonald and J. H. Charlesworth, Jewish
and Christian Texts in Contexts and Related Studies 14 (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2012), 1–8.
4
See esp. B. M. Metzger, A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament: A Companion Volume to the United Bible
Societies’ Greek New Testament, 3rd ed. (London: United Bible Societies, 1971), on behalf of and in cooperation with the
Editorial Committee of the United Bible Societies’ Greek New Testament.
5
For probative examples of this approach, see H. E. Hearon, “The Implications of ‘Orality’ for Studies of the Biblical Text,”
Oral Tradition 19 (2004): 96–107. See esp. her section on “Transmission of the Text,” 100–2. For a poignant illustration
of how these considerations impact our consideration of John 7:53–8:11, see C. Keith, “A Performance of the Text: The
Adulteress’s Entrance into John’s Gospel,” in The Fourth Gospel in First-Century Media Culture, ed. A. Le Donne and T.
Thatcher, LNTS (London: T&T Clark, 2011), 49–69. See also R. F. Person, Jr. “Formulas and Scribal Memory: A Case
Study of Text-Critical Variants as Examples of Category-Triggering,” in Weathered Words: Formulaic Language and Verbal
Art, ed. Frog and William Lamb (Washington, DC: Center for Hellenic Studies, forthcoming).
6
Codex Bobiensus does, however, contain the “shorter ending” of Mark.
7
897 and 913 ce.
8
For Jerome, see his epistle to Lady Hedibia, Jer. Ep. 120, 3; cf. PL 23, cols. 980–1006.
9
The “Eusebian canons,” drawn up by Ammonius Saccas (ca. 175–242 ce).
Do Mark 16:9–20 and John 7:53–8:11 Belong in Our Bibles? 85
after the fourth century do contain these verses, although some of them contain the special obeli
that scribes used to indicate verses that are of dubious origin.
The earliest witness for the longer ending comes in Irenaeus’s Against Heresies 3.10.6 and possibly
also in Tatian’s harmony of the four gospels, the Diatesseron, as attested in a few manuscripts,10
including the Arabic version.11 Irenaeus says, “Toward the conclusion of his Gospel, Mark says: ‘So
then, after the Lord Jesus had spoken to them, he was received up into heaven, and sits on the right
hand of God,’ ” which is a direct quotation from what we know as Mark 16:19.
This is all considered “external evidence”—cataloguing manuscripts in terms of age and quality,
and weighing the evidence.
Internal evidence is a matter of analyzing the vocabulary and style of the passage to compare
them with those of the rest of Mark. It also asks about the flow of the passage and how natural or
unnatural is the connection between vv. 8 and 9 with a view to determining which variants are more
likely the product of the author, given his vocabulary and style.
Here the evidence is even more overwhelming against the originality of these twelve verses. In
fact, Mark 16:9–20 is the best example in the entire New Testament of how internal evidence can
clarify the inauthenticity of a textual variant. About a dozen words or phrasings in these verses
appear nowhere else in Mark.12 The change of subject between vv. 8 and 9 is abrupt and awkward.
In v. 9 Mary Magdalene is reintroduced, as if she were not already part of the narrative in vv. 1–8.
As Metzger puts it, “The internal evidence for the shorter ending is decidedly against its being
genuine. Besides containing a high percentage of non-Markan words, its rhetorical tone differs
totally from the simple style of Mark’s Gospel.”13
Thus there are three primary possibilities regarding the ending of Mark:
(1) Verses 9–20 are original, so Mark ends with Mark 16:20.
(2) Verses 9–20 are not original:
(a) either the author intended to finish his Gospel, but never did, or
(b) the gospel had another ending that is now lost.14
(3) Verses 9–20 are not original; the Gospel originally ended with Mark 16:8.15
10
Notably Codex Fuldensis.
11
Justin Martyr’s witness is ambiguous, not clearly dependent upon Mark 16:9–20. See Metzger, A Textual
Commentary, 103–4.
12
These include ἀπιστέω, βλάπτω, βεβαιόω, ἐπακολουθέω, θεάομαι, μετὰ ταῦτα, πορεύομαι, συνεργέω, and ὕστερον. In addition,
distinct terminology used of the disciples appears only here in the New Testament. See Metzger, A Textual Commentary, 104.
13
Metzger, A Textual Commentary, 105. Metzger’s conclusion stands despite repeated feeble attempts by some to buttress the
pericope’s originality. An example of the latter is D. P. Kuskein, “Textual Criticism Brief: Mark 16:9-20,” Wisconsin Lutheran
Quarterly 102 (2005): 58–9. Sometimes the textual-critical argument takes on a desperate quality. For instance, S. M. Zwemer says
that the conclusion that the last twelve verses of Mark are inauthentic would, if accurate, “rob us of the Great Commission”; “The
Last Twelve Verses of the Gospel of Mark,” EvQ 17 (January 1945): 13–23. Zwemer takes comfort in the scores of translations
and hundreds of languages that treat Mark 16:9–20 no differently than the rest of Mark. I am admittedly more dismissive of these
attempts than is Chris Keith, “Recent and Previous Research on the Pericope Adulterae (John 7.53–8.11),” CBR 6 (2008): 377–404,
see 379. I agree with G. W. Trompf in his agreement with Metzger: “No amount of ratiocinative over-straining can convincingly
explain away the non-Markan characteristics of either” the shorter ending or the longer ending of Mark; “The Markusschluss
in Recent Research,” Australian Biblical Review 21 (1973): 15–16. Trompf is among those scholars who are convinced that the
original ending of Mark was somehow lost. He argues that the original ending is largely preserved, however, in Matt 28:9–10.
14
The distinction between these two subpossibilities might be significant logically, but in practical terms is insignificant, since
pursuing it would require speculation about the meaning of a lack of evidence: an argument from silence.
15
A few further remote possibilities are not worth serious consideration, even though many scholars note them for the sake
of being comprehensive: (1) The Freer Logion:
Sixty years ago, the strong consensus among New Testament scholars was that Mark could not
have intended to end his gospel with Mark 16:8, since that is so obviously such an inadequate
ending, and also that none of the endings we currently have available to us was original. That left
possibilities (2) and (3): either Mark never finished his gospel or his ending was lost.
In the past sixty years or so, commentators have continued to agree that vv. 9–20 were not
originally part of the gospel but are a later edition.16 However, an increasing number have challenged
the idea that Mark could not have meant to end his gospel with “So they went out and fled from
the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they
were afraid.”17
Despite the inherent value of Mark 16:9–20 in itself,18 treating it as part of the Gospel of
Mark reflects an insufficient appreciation for what Mark was doing in ending the Gospel as he
did.19
And they excused themselves, saying, “This age of lawlessness and unbelief is under Satan, who does not allow the
truth and power of God to prevail over the unclean things of the spirits [or, does not allow what lies under the unclean
spirits to understand the truth and power of God]. Therefore reveal your righteousness now”—thus they spoke to
Christ. And Christ replied to them, “The term of years of Satan’s power has been fulfilled, but other terrible things draw
near. And for those who have sinned I was handed over to death, that they may return to the truth and sin no more, in
order that they may inherit the spiritual and incorruptible glory of righteousness that is in heaven.” (Metzger, A Textual
Commentary, 104)
This variant appears in only one manuscript: Codex Washingtonianus, kept in the Freer Museum in Washington, DC,
though Jerome seems to have known about this logion (see his Dialogue against the Pelagians 2.15). (2) The unversed
“shorter ending” between vv. 8 and 9 in the King James Version by itself, without vv. 9–20. However, the Old Latin Codex
Bobiensis (itk) has only this shorter ending. (3) A final solution has slightly more support: the “shorter ending” mentioned
above and the “longer ending,” equivalent to vv. 9–20 in the King James Version. This form of the text appears in several of
the Coptic manuscripts, many of the Ethiopic manuscripts, and four Greek manuscripts from the seventh, eighth, and ninth
centuries (i.e., L, Y, 099, and 0112).
16
Important exceptions include W. R. Farmer, The Last Twelve Verses of Mark, SNTSMS 25 (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1974).
17
For a good summary of this shift in scholarly opinion, see N. C. Croy, “A Sea Change in Scholarly Opinion,” in
The Mutilation of Mark’s Gospel (Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 2003). Croy himself proceeds to argue that this shift is
mistaken and that the theory that the original ending has been lost has the most to commend it. For a good example of
the argument that some ancient manuscripts can and did end with γάρ, see J. L. Magness, Sense and Absence: Structure
and Suspension in the Ending of Mark’s Gospel (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1986). Defense of the appropriateness of
ending a narrative with γάρ is, however, at least as old as Wellhausen, Bousset, and Lightfoot. See F. F. Bruce, “The End
of the Second Gospel,” EvQ 17 (1945): 170 n.2. See also W. S. Vorster, “The Reader in the Text: Narrative Material,”
in Reader Perspectives on the New Testament, ed. E. V. McKnight (Atlanta, GA: SBL, 1989), 32–3. Among the many
writings on this topic, I especially appreciate the thoughtful and provocative challenge in D. Juel, “A Disquieting
Silence: The Matter of the Ending,” in The Ending of Mark and the Ends of God: Essays in Memory of Donald
Harrisville Juel, ed. B. R. Gaventa and P. D. Miller (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2005), 1–13; and
D. Rhoads, Mark as Story: An Introduction to the Narrative of a Gospel, 3rd ed. (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press,
2012), 142–4.
18
In addition to the theological/canonical value of the text, which is the main focus of the present essay, there is also the
historical evidence these pericopes may offer for the second-century context in which the Long Ending was appended
to the gospel. For a good example of this kind of historical pursuit, see J. A. Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission: The
Authentication of Missionaries and Their Message in the Longer Ending of Mark, WUNT II/112 (Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 2000).
19
The same is true of the “shorter ending,” the “Freer Logion,” and any combination of the above.
3. JOHN 7:53–8:11: THE EVIDENCE

So what is the evidence with regard to John?20 Here we must be even briefer. Here too, in
Metzger’s words, “the evidence for the non-Johannine origin of the pericope of the adulteress
is overwhelming.”21 Neither Codex Vaticanus nor Codex Sinaiticus has these verses. In the case
of John, we also have two earlier papyrus manuscripts—one that dates from ca. 200 (p. 66) and
one that dates from the mid-third century (p. 75). Neither manuscript has these verses. None
of the Greek22 church “fathers” prior to the twelfth century comments on this passage, and the
twelfth-century father who does comment on it says “that the accurate copies of the gospel do not
contain it.”23
The modifier Greek here is significant, since the Western church became familiar with this
pericope much earlier than did the Eastern church. Although St. Augustine did not consider it part
of the original Gospel of John, he knew about it and commented on it. The fifth-century Western
manuscript, Codex Bezae—known for its distinctive, even maverick variant readings—is the first
to contain this pericope.24
“The oldest and most important Greek, Syriac, Armenian, Georgian, Coptic and Latin
witness[es] to the new Testament text unanimously concur in not knowing the pericope of the
adulteress.”25 Even when the text did make its way into manuscripts of the New Testament, it did
so at different places. One group of manuscripts has it after Luke 21:38.26 Another manuscript
has it after 7:36 (minuscule 225) and yet another family of manuscripts has it after John
21:24.27 By one count, the pericope shows up in at least twelve different places (after John 7:52,
its traditional place; at the end of John; at the end of Luke; after Luke 21:38; after John 7:36;
20
One of the more exhaustive presentations of the textual data with regard to 7:53–8:11 is that of U. Becker, Jesus
und die Ehebrecherin: Untersuchungen zur Text- und Überlieferungsgeschichte von Joh. 7:53-8:11, BZNW (Berlin: Adolf
Töpelmann, 1963); cf. K. Aland, Studien zur Überlieferung das Neuen Testaments und seines Textes (Berlin: Gruyter,
1967), 39–46.
21
Metzger, A Textual Commentary, 187. Like Metzger, B. Ehrman also calls the evidence “overwhelming”; “Jesus and
the Adulteress,” NTA 34 (1988): 24, as does P. Comfort, “The Pericope of the Adulteress,” Bible Translator 40 (January
1989): 145.
22
See J. M. C. Scott, “On the Trail of a Good Story: John 7.53–8.11 in the Gospel Tradition,” in Ciphers in the
Sand: Interpretations of the Woman Taken in Adultery (John 7.53–8.11), ed. L. J. Kreitzer and D. Rooke (Sheffield: Sheffield
Academic Press, 2000), 53–82, esp. 56.
23
This person is Euthymius Zigabenus. The quotation is from Metzger, A Textual Commentary, 188. As Ehrman has pointed
out, Didymus the Blind (313–98) knew and commented on this story. However, it is not at all clear that Didymus connected
it with the Gospel of John. He says we find it “in some gospels” (see Ehrman). The quotation is from page 25. As both
Ehrman and Knust have pointed out (see the following footnote), έν τισιν εὐαγγελίοι could mean either “certain manuscripts
of John” or “certain [apocryphal] gospels.”
24
J. W. Knust suggests that Bezae’s tendency toward Christian anti-Judaism may account for both its inclusion in the Codex
and the ways in which it was read in the early and medieval church. See “Early Christian Re-Writing and the History of the
Pericope Adulterae,” JECS 14 (2006): 485–536. Her essay is an excellent survey of the interpretation of this pericope in the
early church and the early medieval church.
25
U. Becker, Jesus und die Ehebrecherin, as translated in Scott, “On the Trail of a Good Story,” 55.
26
This is the “Ferrar Group,” also known as “Family 13,” consisting of several manuscripts from the eleventh to fifteenth
centuries.
27
Family 1 of the Gospel minuscule manuscripts, consisting of 1, 118, 131, 209, 1582, et al., cf. K. Lake, Codex 1 of the
Gospels and Its Allies, Texts and Studies (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967), originally published in 1902.
These are mostly ninth- and tenth-century manuscripts.
7:44; 8:12; 8:12a; 8:13; 8:14a; 8:20; or after 10:36).28 Numerous commentators have wondered
whether its appearance in these varied locations indicates that this was a piece of authentic gospel
tradition in search of a canonical location. Even when it appears in its traditional location after
John 7:52, few sections of the New Testament display as wide a variety of variant readings as
this one.
Evidence of knowledge of this story in the early church must be carefully separated from evidence
of knowledge that this story was part of John’s Gospel. For instance, Papias (ca. 60–130 ce) seems
to know the story, but it is not clear that he knew it as part of the Gospel of John.29
Most of the advocates for the authenticity of John 7:53–8:11 pay little attention to the internal
evidence, with its criteria of style, vocabulary, and literary flow. One important exception to this
generalization is John Paul Heil, who argues on the basis of internal evidence that John 7:53–8:11
is authentic.30 However, Daniel B. Wallace of Dallas Theological Seminary has convincingly shown
that Heil’s arguments are flawed and that the “overwhelming scholarly consensus” regarding its
inauthenticity is justified.31
The story recounted in “John 7:53–8:11” appears to be an early Jesus tradition that was valued
early. Even though it clearly does not belong in the middle of John’s gospel, there are no obvious
alternative locations if we are to retain it in our Bibles.32
28
C. Keith, The Pericope Adulterae, the Gospel of John, and the Literacy of Jesus (Leiden: Brill, 2009) 120–1. See also C.
Keith, “The Initial Location of the Pericope Adulterae in Fourfold Tradition,” NovT 51 (2009): 209–31, a slightly modified
version of one chapter of the above.
29
See E. Haenchen, John 1: A Commentary on the Gospel of John, Chapters 1-6, Hermeneia (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress
Press, 1984), 13. J. Rius-Camps attempts to argue that the pericope was originally included in Mark’s gospel, from which it
made its way into Luke’s Gospel. However, “because of the moral strictness that prevailed at the end of the first century,”
the pericope was expunged from both Gospels and lived a nomadic existence for the next several decades until it finally
found a place in the Gospel of John. See “The Pericope of the Adulteress Reconsidered: The Nomadic Misfortunes of a Bold
Pericope,” NTS 53 (2007): 379–405.
30
See J. P. Heil, “The Story of Jesus and the Adulteress (John 7,53-8,11) Reconsidered,” Biblica 72 (1991): 182–91; and J.
P. Heil, “A Rejoinder to ‘Reconsidering ‘The Story of Jesus and the Adulteress Reconsidered’ (John 7:53-8:11),” Église et
théologie 25 (1994): 361–6.
31
D. B. Wallace, “Reconsidering ‘The Story of Jesus and the Adulteress Reconsidered,’ ” NTS 39 (1993): 290–6. Similarly
Keith, who concludes, “Some issues, such as the thesis that PA [the Pericope Adulterae] was not originally in the Gospel
of John, appear settled” (“Recent and Previous Research”). For explorations about the potential relationship between
patriarchy and the exclusion or inclusion of this pericope in the text, see Scott, “On the Trail of a Good Story,” 77–80,
and E. E. Green, “Making Her Case and Reading It Too: Feminist Readings of the Story of the Woman Taken in Adultery,”
in Ciphers in the Sand: Interpretations of the Woman Taken in Adultery (John 7.53–8.11), ed. L. J. Kreitzer and D. Rooke
(Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000), 240–67. Green’s article is a fascinating survey of the relatively few feminist
readings of this pericope. Scott asks why almost all male commentators assume that the woman is, in fact, guilty of the
adultery with which she is charged. Whether or not she was guilty, Green notes that commentators’ emphasis on the woman
and on the charge of adultery is “emblematic of the cornerstone of patriarchy: male control of female sexuality” (261). By
refusing to comply with the insistence of the scribes and Pharisees that the woman be stoned, Jesus “withdraws loyalty from
the social and symbolic dictates of patriarchy and invites his fellows to do likewise” (264). See also G. O’Day, “John 7:53-
8:11: A Study in Misreading,” JBL 111 (1992): 631–40.
32
According to E. McMillan, “the passage is neither Johannine nor should it be considered part of the original text.
However, because of its tradition, it needs to be retained somewhere. This place is as good as any, if one is familiar
with the problem involved”; “Textual Authority for John 7:53-8:11,” Restoration Quarterly 3 (1959): 22. Worth
noting, however, is the warning of P. Comfort that retaining the pericope in its traditional (dis)location makes it more
difficult to see how John 8:12 “provides a reproof to the Pharisees’ declaration in John 7.52”; “The Pericope of the
Adulteress,” 147.
4 PRECEDENT IN RESTORING THE TEXT

Canonical considerations do not typically carry any weight with regard to individual verses or
phrases. Eugene Ulrich says, “The textual form of most books of scripture was pluriform in antiquity.
… It is the book, not the textual form of the book, that is canonical.”33 So far as I know, no
early church leader ever commented on which form of Mark or which form of John is considered
canonical. There were discussions in the third century and later about whether these passages are
authentic, but the canonizing of biblical books was never linked to textual form of those books. It has
sometimes been claimed that the Council of Trent, which took place from 1545 to 1563, declared
these two passages canonical. However, the Council never addressed directly the canonical status
of these passages. The Fourth Session, April 1546, declared that of all the versions and translations
available, the Latin Vulgate is the only authentic version. Because these passages are included in the
Vulgate, we may have an indirect imprimatur on these passages as canonical, but not a direct one.
As an example of how it is that canonical considerations simply do not factor into the work of
modern translators, the centuries of tradition with regard to John 1:34 did not stop the translators
of the New International Version from concluding that the manuscript evidence for ὁ ἐκλεκτός τοῦ
θεοῦ is stronger than the evidence for ὁ υἱός τοῦ θεοῦ, and should therefore be translated “God’s
Chosen One”—and rightly so, in my opinion—despite the fact that most other translations have
“Son of God” at this point, based on their preference for the reading ὁ υἱός τοῦ θεοὐ.34 Bible
translators hold that the traditional canonical weight of “Son of God” plays no role in the textual-
critical consideration in John 1:34 and therefore ignore that tradition. What matters is simply the
textual evidence, both external and internal, not the weight of tradition.
Treating the Bible with respect and honor does not mean simply accepting the Bible in whatever
form it was handed down to us. If tradition and “canonical considerations” in this sense were
allowed to play a significant role in the consideration of every variant reading, we would be forced
to capitulate to the Byzantine text tradition, or perhaps revert to the Latin Vulgate. The exclusion
of verses not found in the best manuscripts is not an isolated phenomenon in the New Testament.
For the most part, modern translations of the Bible do not include these verses, since the probability
is that all of these verses were added later and were not penned by the authors of the biblical books
in which they appear (in some later manuscripts).
Scholars serve the church through textual criticism by weighing the evidence of multiple variant
readings. As a result, they often “take verses out of the Bible” when they recognize that they were
not written by the author of the book in question but were actually added to the text by later scribes.
Some well-meaning Christians are understandably appalled, horrified, and deeply offended when
“people take verses out of the Bible!” After all, when a particular verse is taken out, it is obvious
33
L. M. McDonald and J. A. Sanders, eds., The Canon Debate (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2002), 30.
34
Siding with the 2011 NIV in this textual decision is the New English Translation, the New Living Translation, the New
Jerusalem Bible, the Lexham English Bible, the Revised English Bible, and the SBL edition of the Greek New Testament.
Siding with the traditional “Son of God” are the King James Version, the New King James Version, the New International
Version of 1984, the English Standard Version, the Holman Christian Standard Bible, the Christian Standard Bible, the New
American Bible, the Revised Standard Version, the New American Standard Bible, the Message, the New Revised Standard
Version, and all other modern editions of the Greek New Testament other than the SBL. My point here is not which of these
readings is correct. Rather, translation choices are rightly made on the basis of the best text available, based solely on textual
criticism and not on traditional texts or translations.
from the verse numbering that something is missing. And the curses at the end of Revelation leveled
against anyone who adds to or takes away anything from the words of the prophecy of this scroll
surely suggest that we should avoid that practice!35
The issue, of course, is that we know that some things were added to the Bible between 100 and
1600 ce. Verse numbers were added to the New Testament in the sixteenth century, using a Greek
text that was based on late, inferior manuscripts. Therefore, when modern textual critics “take out”
verses that are clearly “there” in the King James Version, they are actually recognizing that these
verses were wrongly added by someone decades or even centuries after the book was written.
The New International Version is the best-selling translation in North America at present and is
often associated with conservative Evangelicalism. Even the theologically conservative translators
of the NIV “took out” Matt 17:21 because of their conviction that this verse was not original to
the book’s author but was added later on in the scribal process. If it weren’t for the “missing” verse
number, and perhaps the explanatory footnote, one would not realize anything was amiss. A similar
phenomenon occurs with Matt 18:11; 23:14; Mark 7:16; 9:44, 46; 11:26; 15:28; Luke 17:36;
23:17; John 5:3b–4; Acts 8:37; 15:34; 24:7–8a; 28:29; Rom 16:24; and 1 John 5:7b–8a. None
of these verses appears in the text of the conservative New International Version (2011 edition).
One of the more famous “omissions” is the Trinitarian formulation of 1 John 5:7b–8a, where the
King James Version reads, “For there are three that bear record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and
the Holy Ghost: and these three are one. And there are three that bear witness in earth, the spirit,
and the water, and the blood: and these three agree in one.” The NIV reads simply, “For there are
three that testify: the Spirit, the water and the blood; and the three are in agreement.” Notice the
additional words in the King James. The NIV footnote points out that only late manuscripts of
the Vulgate add these words, which are not found in any Greek manuscript before the sixteenth
century! Those charged with establishing the text for the NIV translators rightly determined that
these verses were wrongly added at a later time.
The 1946 edition of the RSV removed about forty verses that appear in the King James Version
for the same reason—including the twelve verses of Mark 16:9–20 and the twelve of John 7:53–
8:11. And this does not include the more than one hundred other places where portions of a
verse are removed. Thus, the work of textual criticism and its conclusions are valued highly by
most Christian traditions today, even the more conservative ones, and even when the result is the
excising of texts with centuries of tradition behind them.
5 THE CURIOUS STORY OF THE REVISED STANDARD VERSION

The story of the place of Mark 16:9–20 and John 7:53–8:11 in published Bibles today is most
fascinating with regard to the Revised Standard Version.36 Significant advances in the textual
criticism of the New Testament had occurred between 1850 and 1950. These advances found
expression in the 1946 first edition of the RSV New Testament, which relegated both Mark 16:9–
20 and John 7:53–8:11 to the footnotes, along with a few explanatory comments. Some of the
35
Cf. Rev 22:18–19.
36
For the story of the RSV, see the delightful and indispensable book by P. J. Thuesen, In Discordance with the
Scriptures: American Protestant Battles over Translating the Bible (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999). Thuesen’s
narrative focuses on the reception of the RSV in American Protestantism as a window on the history of religion in America.
protestations to the removal of the resurrection voiced by readers of the RSV were vitriolic. The
ongoing “Standard Bible Committee” received and studied them all.
From the beginning, the RSV had been an ecumenical project of the National Council of
Churches.37 When the Apocrypha was added in 1957, increasing numbers of Roman Catholics
began to use the RSV. Already in 1953, Catholic Bernard Orchard had contacted an editor at
Thomas Nelson about the possibility of developing a Catholic edition of the RSV. The overture was
unusual, since no previous Protestant translation of the Bible had ever been formally approved by
the Roman Catholic Church and “the 1917 code of canon law still technically forbade the general
use of non-Catholic Bibles.”38 But the Catholic encyclical Divino Afflante Spiritu of 1943 and the
further sweeping reforms of the Second Vatican Council (1962–5) were opening the way for a
level of cooperation not previously possible.39 In 1954 representatives from Thomas Nelson, the
publisher, and from the National Council of Churches met with a subcommittee of the Catholic
Biblical Association of Great Britain to explore the possibilities.
In June 1955 [Luther] Weigle distributed the Catholics’ list of New Testament preferences,
edited by Orchard and his colleague, Reginald C. Fuller, to the members of the RSV committee.
Most of the proposed changes involved terminology: “brethren” for “brothers” in more than a
dozen places; “full of grace” instead of “favored one” in Luke’s annunciation account; and “send
her away” instead of “divorce her” in Matthew’s narrative of Joseph and Mary. The major changes
requested were the restoration of three disputed passages to the main body of the text: (1) the
“Longer Ending” of Mark 16:9–20; (2) the pericope adulterae of John 7:53–8:11; and (3) a group
of less than a dozen verses, mostly in Luke, that the RSV had omitted or replaced with shorter
readings.40
The committee’s response to these requests is interesting. Some of the most overtly doctrinal
requests were received with some distaste. However, they reasoned that the requested changes
were, after all, less than fifty in number, and Weigle noted that the Catholics were “making a
much greater and more venturesome step than we.” With the approval of the Standard Bible
Committee, the Catholic edition of the New Testament appeared in 1965 and the complete
RSV–Catholic Edition appeared in 1966. Mark 16:9–20 and John 7:53–8:11 were both restored
to their traditional places in the text, along with footnotes that explain that “other ancient
authorities” omit these passages. After the publication of the Catholic edition, six Roman
Catholic scholars were added to the RSV committee in 1969 and later an Eastern Orthodox
scholar was added.41 Professor Harry Orlinsky, a Jewish scholar, had already been invited to join
the committee in 1945.
37
Technically, it was a project of the International Council of Religious Education, the predecessor of the National Council
of Churches, which was formed in 1950.
38
Thuesen, In Discordance with the Scriptures, 138–9.
39
Ibid., 80, 138–9. Theusen notes that Divino Afflante Spiritu had a significant role in paving the way for Catholic–Protestant
cooperation by allowing translations from the original Greek and Hebrew (not just from the Latin Vulgate).
40
Ibid., 139. These verses included Luke 22:19–20; 24:5, 12, 36, 40, and 51–2.
41
For documentation on the addition of these Roman Catholic scholars to the Standard Bible Committee, see the Minutes
of the Standard Bible Committee, held at Yale Divinity School June 22–27, 1970. Archives of the Revised Standard Version
of the Bible, filed under National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America, Princeton Theological
Seminary, Princeton, NJ.
After the initial publication of the New Testament in 1946, numerous “proposals for modification
had been submitted to the committee by individuals and [two by] denominational committees.”42
One such request came from the secretary of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union chapter in
California, which implored the committee to change “use a little wine for your stomach’s sake” in 1
Tim 5:23 to “use a little grape juice for your stomach’s sake.” After all, “St. Paul was the forerunner
of modern health enthusiasts who endorse the use of fresh juices.”43
The decision to restore our passages to the text for the Roman Catholic Church probably made
it easier for the Standard Bible Committee to concede to Protestant appeals to restore our passages
to the text in the second major edition of the RSV, published in 1971.44 All RSV Bibles published
between 1946 and 1971, apart from the Catholic edition, have Mark 16:9–20 and John 7:53–8:11
in the footnotes, while all Roman Catholic edition RSV Bibles, and all RSV Bibles published after
1971, have these passages restored to the text. Despite the explanation in the preface that the
second edition of 1971 “profits from textual and linguistic studies” published since the first RSV
New Testament of 1946, the decision to restore Mark 16:9–20 and John 7:53–8:11 to the text is
clearly an accommodation to tradition. Speaking of Mark 16:9–20: “If there was anything in the
first edition of the RSV that can be called a substantial improvement over past English versions
in the presentation of textual scholarship, it was the omission of this passage.”45 Philip Comfort
agrees:
The RSV translators made the daring move to relegate this pericope to a marginal note, but
then due to outside pressures they were forced to print the passage as part of the text in the
second edition. No other English translators have dared to follow the RSV’s original move.46
The decision of the RSV translation committee in 1946 to excise these passages from the biblical
text and relegate them to the footnotes was, as far as I am aware, unprecedented for a modern
translation of the New Testament. Twenty-three years later, one problem the Standard Bible
Committee faced in 1969 was what to do with these two 12-verse pericopes in the major revision
to be published in 1971. Should they continue to be excluded, as the RSV had done for twenty-five
years? Or should they be brought back into the text, as the Roman Catholic RSV New Testament
had done in 1965?
One of the Roman Catholic scholars proposed a solution that seemed like a good compromise to
the rest of the committee: Include the passages, but put brackets around them and mark them with
footnotes that indicate that the oldest manuscripts lack these passages. By 1988, as the next major
revision of both testaments was about to be released as the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV),
Bruce Manning Metzger had served for more than thirty-five years on the RSV/NRSV translation
committee, with responsibility for textual-critical issues. He wrote:
42
See B. M. Metzger, Reminiscences of an Octogenarian (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1997), 82.
43
Thuesen, In Discordance with the Scriptures, 82.
44
Major is an important qualifier here, since minor changes were made every few years with most of the new editions,
starting with several dozen changes in the New Testament when the whole Bible was published in 1952.
45
See “Bible Research: Internet Resources for Students of Scripture,” http://www.bible-researcher.com/rsv.html, accessed
December 13, 2018.
46
Comfort, “The Pericope of the Adulteress,” 147.
There seems to be good reason … to conclude that, though external and internal evidence is
conclusive against the authenticity of the last twelve verses as coming from the same pen as the
rest of the Gospel, the passage ought to be accepted as part of the canonical text of Mark.
What that “reason” is, and why it is “good,” Metzger does not specify. The implication is that the
passage had enjoyed such a long history in the church that taking it out at this point would not
be considered wise. Similarly, F. F. Bruce concluded that “while we cannot regard [these twelve
verses] as an integral part of the gospel to which they are now attached, no Christian need have any
hesitation in reading them as Holy Scripture.”47 Why this should be the case, Bruce does not say.
He simply insists that in denying the authenticity of these verses, he is “not necessarily calling in
question either their antiquity or their truth or their divine inspiration.”48
Earlier, Bruce Metzger had participated in the delegation that presented a specially bound
edition of the RSV Common Bible to Pope Paul VI in 1973. Also present was the Greek Orthodox
archbishop Athenagoras of Thyateira, who had endorsed the Common Bible. After the presentation,
Archbishop Athenagoras mentioned that the Common Bible, though worthy, did not quite live up
to its name, since a few of the books in the Greek Orthodox canon still were not represented. These
consisted of 3 and 4 Maccabees and Psalm 151. Finally in 1977, “The New Oxford Annotated Bible,
with the Apocrypha, Expanded Edition” appeared, including those scriptures, and a presentation of
the Bible was made to his All Holiness, Demetrios I, the ecumenical patriarch of Constantinople.
Metzger reports his response:
In accepting the gift, the ecumenical patriarch expressed his satisfaction at the availability of an
edition of the sacred / Scriptures that English readers belonging to all of the main branches of
the Christian church could use.49
Metzger continues in his own words:
The story of the making of the Revised Standard Version … is an account of the slow but steady
triumph of ecumenical concern over more limited sectarian interest. For the first time since the
Reformation, one edition of the Bible received the blessings of leaders of the Protestant, Roman
Catholic, and Eastern Orthodox churches alike.50
Perhaps the small number of English-speaking and -reading Coptic Orthodox Christians will
prevent publishers from publishing a truly ecumenical Bible that includes their even-further-
expanded canon.
These ecumenical considerations are not a detour. Canons can never be separated from the
communities that hold them canonical. Even today, the seemingly simple question, “Which books
belong to the biblical canon?” requires that one specify whether one is speaking for the Protestant
Church, the Roman Catholic Church, the Eastern Orthodox Church, or the Ethiopian Coptic
Church.
47
Bruce, “The End of the Second Gospel,” 181.
48
Ibid., 177.
49
Metzger, Reminiscences of an Octogenarian, 85–6.
50
Ibid., 86.
Furthermore, given the hard work of reaching out to brothers and sisters around the world
to develop a Bible that could be accepted by all of the major Christian traditions in the English-
speaking world, it would be unwise to ignore the global Christian community in making text-
critical decisions about our texts.
6. THOMAS AND ALEXANDER

One exception to the relative silence about how to weigh textual criticism against canonical
considerations is the 2003 article by John Christopher Thomas and Kimberly Ervin Alexander on
Mark 16:9–20 in Journal of Pentecostal Theology.51 In part, the article is a reconsideration of the
earlier 1983 article by Thomas published in the Journal for the Evangelical Theological Society. In
the earlier article, Thomas had argued why Mark 16:9–20 was a later addition to the gospel and
should therefore be excluded. Twenty years later, Thomas’s conclusion regarding the Long Ending
had not changed with regard to the textual-critical issue. Nevertheless, Thomas and Alexander now
argue that the text can and should be retained in Mark as an authoritatively canonical text.52
The most common way that scholars who serve the church have dealt with the tension between
textual criticism and canonical considerations has been to argue against the overwhelming textual
evidence. The reason for this misguided response is clear: no criteria have been available for
scholars to include or exclude texts from published Bibles other than textual-critical criteria.53 As
a result, scholars who intuitively value these texts have gone to extreme lengths to argue against
overwhelming evidence that our passages were indeed part of the best texts of Mark and John. It is
at this point that Thomas and Alexander attempt to offer a new and valuable word.
Thomas and Alexander begin by noting how central to the foundational documents of the
Pentecostal tradition is the language of “signs following,” which draws directly from Mark 16:17,
which reads in the King James Version, “These signs shall follow them that believe.”54 In fact, so
central to the Pentecostal tradition is the Long Ending of Mark that, along with the book of Acts, it
virtually serves as a “canon within a canon.”55 “Though often observed that the Acts narrative is the
51
J. C. Thomas and K. E. Alexander, “ ‘And the Signs Are Following’: Mark 16.9–20—A Journey into Pentecostal
Hermeneutics,” Journal of Pentecostal Theology 11 (2003): 147–70. Even the promising D. A. Black, ed., Perspectives on the
Ending of Mark: 4 Views (Nashville, TN: Broadman & Holman, 2008), is ultimately disappointing in that it offers no real
methodological alternative to the textual-critical (only) approach. See also K. M. Franco, “A Fitting End? The Text-Critical
Problems of Mark 16” (Lombard, IL: Northern Theological Seminary, 2009).
52
See also R. W. Wall, “A Response to Thomas/Alexander, ‘And the Signs Are Following’ (Mark 16.9–20),’ ” Journal of
Pentecostal Theology 11 (2003): 171–83; and C. B. Bridges, “The Canonical Status of the Longer Ending of Mark,” Stone-
Campbell Journal 9 (2006): 231–42.
53
I have seen two exceptions to this rule. One is that numerous scholars have suggested that John 7:53–8:11 should be
considered canonical on the basis that it is historical—that this incident actually happened in the ministry of Jesus. However,
despite the fact that this story seems almost universally to be liked by modern readers of the New Testament, few of these
scholars have explained why, exactly, this story should be accepted as historical (apart from its general believability) or
why other stories with a claim to historicity should not similarly be included in the Bible. A second exception is that some
scholars accept its canonicity based on its presumed inherent value. For instance, Michael Holmes apparently argues that
John 7:53–8:11 should be included in our Bibles because it offers us “deep insight into how Jesus dealt with questions
such as this, and in that sense is a great illustration to live by,” quoted by S. E. Zylstra, “Is ‘Go and Sin No More’ Biblical?”
Christianity Today (June 2008): 46. Neither of these exceptions stands up to scrutiny.
54
Cf. also Mark 16:20, which reads in the KJV: “And they went forth, and preached every where, the Lord working with
them, and confirming the word with signs following” (emphasis added).
55
Thomas and Alexander, “And the Signs Are Following,” 149.
defining paradigm for Pentecostal doctrine and practice, in point of fact Mark 16.9–20 functions
as the ‘litmus test’ of the early Pentecostal Movement’s fulfilling of the apostolic mandates given
by Jesus and carried out by the church.”56 Early Pentecostal writers clearly favored Mark’s version
of the Great Commission over Matthew’s or John’s. Some of these Pentecostal writers were aware
of the textual problems of the Long Ending, but they dealt with those problems in the same way
that scholars from outside the Pentecostal tradition did so: by arguing against or minimizing the
overwhelming textual-critical evidence.
A similar argument could be made with regard to the function of Mark’s Long Ending in
sixteenth-century Anabaptism. In 1969 Eldon T. Yoder and Monroe D. Hochstetler published an
index of references to the Bible by Dutch Anabaptists in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.
This 399-page index is a comprehensive index to biblical references in the writings of Menno
Simons, Dirk Philips, and Thieleman J. van Braght (in the Martyrs Mirror), a credible trio of
witnesses to the foundational documents of Dutch Anabaptism. In this index, nearly one-third
of all the references to the book of Mark are actually to the Long Ending of Mark—verses with
little claim to authenticity!57 The primary reason for this early Anabaptist appreciation of Mark’s
Long Ending appears to be that unlike Matthew’s version of the Great Commission, which was
also extensively quoted, Mark’s version has Jesus saying, “Whoever believes and is baptized will be
saved.” These Anabaptists perceived a sequence in this verse that suggested that believing comes
before baptism, thus providing a biblical basis for their convictions about believers (adult) baptism.
Unfortunately, Thomas and Alexander do not say how or why the centuries-long tradition in
the church of attributing authority to the Long Ending of Mark—or its special authoritative status
in the founding documents of the Pentecostal tradition—should give the Long Ending canonical
authority today in contrast to the dozens of other verses excised from the New Testament on the
basis of sound textual criticism. That is, why should their argument about how dear the Long
Ending of Mark is to Pentecostals not also apply to some person or group that finds dear the
Trinitarian formula of 1 John 5:7b–8a, a passage that notwithstanding its long history in the church
in Latin appears in no Greek manuscript prior to 1500?
7 PRESENTING THE TEXT IN PUBLISHED ENGLISH BIBLES

In 1946, the choice was considered a binary one. That is, these passages should either be put in
the text or they should be excluded—or at least relegated to the footnotes. Some scholars today
continue to insist that the choice must be binary. For instance, Ben Witherington argues that “text
determines canon.” That is, it is the original text that is inspired, and not later additions. And, since
Mark 16:9–20 and John 7:53–8:11 were added later, Witherington thinks they are not inspired
by the Holy Spirit and therefore Witherington himself should not preach on them. Today’s New
International Version has a warning right in the text that says “The earliest manuscripts and other
ancient witnesses do not have John 7:53–8:11,”58 Witherington thinks the translators should simply
56
Ibid., 170.
57
Apparently none of these sixteenth- and seventeenth-century authors, or the martyred Anabaptists they were quoting, was
aware of the textual-critical problems with Mark’s Long Ending.
58
Writing this article in 2008, Withering naturally quotes the 2001 TNIV. The more recent 2011 edition of the NIV handles
the textual-critical issue similarly by inserting within brackets, right in the text of Mark, “[The earliest manuscripts and some
other ancient witnesses do not have verses 9-20].”
have relegated these verses to the margin or footnote, as the RSV had done from 1946 to 1971.59
In other words, if Mark did not write these verses, they should not be presented in modern Bibles
as part of Mark. Introducing textual-critical comments within the biblical text itself just confuses
categories!
This argument appears to me to be based on a prior theological commitment to a certain view
of biblical inspiration. That is, if God “inspired” certain writers to write what we now consider
canonical, that means that what is not canonical is neither inspired nor canonical. However, it seems
clear that views of Scripture in the early church were not so binary. Even the modern categories of
“canonical” and “noncanonical,” which we all so easily use and accept, are extremely rare in the
literature of the first four centuries ce.
In 2012, François Bovon complained about the modern insistence that biblical books are either
“canonical” or “apocryphal.”60 This was not true of the early church, which seemed content for
centuries to have three categories: the accepted (which some today call canonical), the rejected
(which some today call apocryphal), and the disputed (Bovon seems to prefer a subset of the
disputed, which he calls “books useful for the soul”). For centuries the early and medieval church
held that although texts in the “rejected” category should not be read, “the text of books in the
third category, having their own destiny, was to be preserved, copied, and adapted to serve for the
soul’s benefit.”61
Although Bovon does not extend his proposed “third category” to disputed texts within the
accepted canon, it seems to me that his argument lends itself well to that application. Bovon
concludes his article with an intriguing example about how the Epistle to the Laodiceans was
presented in Elias Hutter’s 1599 polyglot Bible: Hutter includes the questionable epistle after
Colossians, but does not number the pages until 1 Thessalonians begins, thus demonstrating the
existence of a via media between the canonical and noncanonical.62
This leads naturally to the question about how disputed variant readings can and ought to be
presented in modern editions of the Bible. Not only can the presentation vary; the wording of the
footnotes admits to a great deal of variety. In 1971 the Standard Bible Committee restored the Long
Ending of Mark to the text, but they added a blank line between vv. 8 and 9, indicating some kind
of a break.63 In addition, they added a footnote after the Amen of v. 20, which reads:
Some of the most ancient authorities bring the book to a close at the end of verse 8. One
authority concludes the book by adding after verse 8 the following: [the short ending is then
cited]. Other authorities include the preceding passage and continue with verses 9–20. In most
authorities verses 9–20 follow immediately after verse 8; a few authorities insert additional
material after verse 14.
59
B. Witherington III, “A Text without a Home,” BAR 34.4 (July/August 2008): 28.
60
Bovon notes that the words apocrypha and apocryphal denote, for Roman Catholics, books that should be avoided, not
the (accepted) Deuterocanonical books; see “Beyond the Canonical and the Apocryphal Books, the Presence of a Third
Category: The Books Useful for the Soul,” HTR 105 (2012): 127–35 at 136.
61
Bovon, “Beyond the Canonical,” 134.
62
Bovon adds in a footnote that in the first edition of his German translation, Martin Luther left unnumbered the pages of
the letter of James, whose canonicity Luther would like to have challenged (“Beyond the Canonical,” 137).
63
This solution seems to have been offered by R. C. Fuller in a letter to the Standard Bible Committee. See “Suggested
Changes in the Revised Standard Version,” by Fuller in the RSV archives, Princeton Theological Seminary.
In 1989 the New Revised Version handled the textual-critical issue by adding a footnote after Mark
16:8 that reads:
Some of the most ancient authorities bring the book to a close at the end of verse 8. One authority
concludes the book with the shorter ending; others include the shorter ending and then continue
with verses 9–20. In most authorities verses 9–20 follow immediately after verse 8, though in some
of these authorities the passage is marked as being doubtful.
The primary difference in the NRSV compared to the 1971 RSV is that the NRSV inexplicably includes
the shorter ending in the text itself, despite the fact that its claim to authenticity is among the thinnest
of any textual variants in the whole New Testament! Both endings are, as the RSV did with the Long
Ending, enclosed within double brackets [[ϖ ω]], which are easily missed.
In 2001 both the English Standard Version and the Today’s New International Version took a
further step forward by inserting a textual-critical note of warning within the text itself. Between Mark
16:8 and 16:9 we read in the ESV “[Some of the earliest manuscripts do not include 16:9–20]” while
in the TNIV we read “[The earliest manuscripts and some other ancient witnesses do not have Mark
16:9–20].” In 2011 the Common English Bible took yet another step in adding large gray brackets
around the Long Ending, appearing in some additions above and below the ending and in some in
the left and right margins of the text. In addition, the CEB adds the subhead, “Endings Added Later.”
That same year the newly revised New International Version took yet another step by adding
the textual-critical warning in the text itself, “[The earliest manuscripts and some other ancient
witnesses do not have Mark 16:9–20]” while at the same time putting the Long Ending itself
in italics.
We thus have several emerging practices with regard to how these two passages are presented,
some of which are mutually exclusive and some of which can be used in combination:
1. Present the Long Ending as part of the canon without break or explanation, as in the King
James Version.
2. Add vertical spacing and/or a horizontal line above and/or below the text, separating it from
the rest of the biblical text.
3. Present the Long Ending within brackets (either single or double), which are easily read over
and missed—and certainly not easily interpreted!
4. Include a textual-critical comment or warning in the text itself that cannot easily be missed or
read over.
5. Include a textual-critical comment in a footnote that attempts to explain the issues.
6. Add a large graphic bracket or some other obvious graphic to the text in question.
7. Present the Long Ending in some visually distinct way, whether in a different font or italicized
or in a different size.
8. Relocate the passage to an appendix.64
64
This solution does not make much sense with regard to Mark 16:9–20, since it is already at the end of the book. With
regard to John 7:53–8:11, P. Comfort would likely prefer this option, since he insists that the story about the adulteress
In other words, the creative options facing modern publishers of the Bible are many. Among the
better practices are those of the NIV, which (a) adds a long solid horizontal line between Mark 16:8
and the Long Ending, (b) adds within the text itself the line “[The earliest manuscripts and some
other ancient witnesses do not have Mark 16:9–20.],” and (c) prints the Long Ending in italics.
In combination, this presentation clearly sets it off from the rest of Mark without excluding
it from the printed biblical text. Also helpful is the clear subhead of the Common English Bible,
“Endings Added Later,” in combination with their large graphic gray brackets. Less helpful,
especially for the average untrained Bible reader, are comments like “Some manuscripts do not
include …” or “Many manuscripts do not include …” or presentations of the biblical text that
imply that these passages are authentically part of Mark or John.
8 CONCLUSION
My conclusion has two parts: the theoretical/methodological and the practical. At the theoretical
level, I argue for the inclusion of these texts in our Bibles, even though they were clearly not part
of the best texts of Mark and John. The basis for doing so is my argument that these two texts are
inherently distinct from all other textual variants in the New Testament by virtue of being pericopes
in their own right and thus having their own independent histories in the life of the church. As a
result, they are eligible for the application of Wirkunsgeschichte in a way that the others are not.
Neither Wirkungsgeschichte nor appeals to tradition have any place in considerations of variant
readings apart from these two texts. Even though generations of scholars who knew that these
texts were added later continued to affirm their canonical authority,65 to my knowledge none have
attempted to explain why these two passages should be treated any differently from other variant
readings of the New Testament.
On the practical level, I believe that Bovon’s argument and his appeal to Hutter’s example leads
naturally to the proposal of a solution with regard to whether and how Mark 16:9–20 and John
7:53–8:11 should be presented in modern Bibles. In fact, this solution is already being demonstrated
in multiple ways by modern editions of the Bible. That is, in including these two passages in the
printed text, they should be presented in ways that clearly mark them as having been added later,
not authentically part of Mark and John. It is for this reason that I applaud the efforts of the (2011)
New International Version and the Contemporary English Bible to be faithful to both textual-
critical and canonical considerations in service to the church.
Other practical questions like “Should we be preaching from and teaching about these passages?”
can be answered in the affirmative. The more significant questions are how they should be preached
on and whether we can faithfully preach and teach these passages without mentioning their dubious
authenticity, although the wisdom of addressing textual-critical issues in the pulpit is dubious if
parishioners have not been introduced to even the basics of historical-critical scholarship.66 Certainly
unnecessarily and misleadingly interrupts the flow of John’s narrative, making it difficult to appreciate the connection
between John 7:40–52 and 8:12–20 (“The Pericope of the Adulteress,” 147). No amount of horizontal lines, font changes,
or explanatory footnotes can make up for the disruption if the story continues to appear between John 7:53 and 8:11.
65
For examples, see my comments above with regard to B. M. Metzger and F. F. Bruce.
66
C. E. Blair argues that the “lack of lay training [in historical-critical tools among the average Protestant believer in North
America] has undermined the foundational tenet of the Protestant Reformation, which insists on the right and duty of
in teaching, textual-critical issues are appropriate and necessary. I would suggest that persons with
responsibility for the care of believers in communities of faith have been “protecting” the average
Christian from historical-critical issues for far too long.
Finally, if theological commitments force scholars to treat the question of the Long Ending of
Mark and John 7:53–8:11 as a binary question—either in or out—answered on the basis of textual
criticism, then the answer is clear: neither the short ending nor the Long Ending of Mark should
be included in modern editions of the Bible, nor should there be comments in the footnotes about
them, nor should the verses appear in the text itself. However, if the church today can abide by a
slightly more ambiguous or flexible view of Scripture—one more akin to the views reflected in the
Early Church—then these texts can and should be included in modern editions of the Bible along
with explanatory and visual solutions that clearly mark these passages as added later, essentially
independent from the books in which they traditionally find their place.
every Christian to read and interpret the Bible”; The Art of Teaching the Bible: A Practical Guide for Adults (Louisville,
KY: Westminster John Knox Press), 91.
APPENDIX 7.1 Presentations of Mark 16:9–20 and John 7:53–8:11 in Recent English Translations
Mark 16:9–20 John 7:53–8:11

In the text In the footnotes In the text In the footnotes
1984 New Extra space and horizontal “The earliest manuscripts and other ancient 7:53–8:11 “The earliest manuscripts
International line; 16:9–20 included in witnesses do not have Mark 16:9–20.” included in the and other ancient
Version the text text with extra witnesses do not have John
space and a 7:53–8:11.”
horizontal line
before and after
2001 Today’s 16:9–20 is included, No additional comment appears in the 7:53–8:11 No comment
New International separated with extra vertical footnotes. is included,
Version spacing and horizontal separated with
lines. The text is italicized. extra vertical
The subhead reads, “[The spacing and
earliest manuscripts horizontal lines.
and some other ancient The text is
witnesses do not have Mark italicized. The
16:9–20.]” subhead reads:
“[The earliest
manuscripts
and many other
ancient witnesses
do not have John
7:53–8:11.]”
2011 New Extra space and horizontal “Some manuscripts have the following ending Extra space No comment
International line, with the explanation, between vv. 8 and 9, and one manuscript has and horizontal
Version “[The earliest manuscripts it after v. 8 (omitting vv. 9–20): Then they line, with the
and some other ancient quickly reported all these instructions to those explanation,
witnesses do not have vv. around Peter. After this, Jesus himself also sent “[The earliest
9–20.]” The text of vv. 9–20 out through them from east to west the sacred manuscripts
is then presented in italics. and imperishable proclamation of eternal and many other
salvation. Amen.” ancient witnesses
do not have
John 7:53–8:11.
A few manuscripts
include these
verses, wholly
or in part, after
John 7:36, John
21:25, Luke
21:38 or Luke
24:53].” The text
of John 7:53–8:11
is then presented
in italics.
King James 16:9–20 included in the text No comment 7:53–8:11 No comment
Version with no special treatment included in the
text with no
special treatment
New King James 16:9–20 included in the text No comment 7:53–8:11 No comment
Version with no special treatment Included in the
text with no
special treatment
New Living Adds subhead: “[Shorter The most reliable early manuscripts of 7:53–8:11 No comment
Translation Ending of Mark]” along the Gospel of Mark end at v. 8. Other included in
with the text of the shorter manuscripts include various endings to the the text with
ending; and then another Gospel. A few include both the ‘shorter space added
subhead: “[Longer Ending ending’ and the ‘longer ending.’ The majority and a subhead:
of Mark]” along with of manuscripts include the ‘longer ending’ “[The most
traditional text of vv. 9–20. immediately after v. 8.” ancient Greek
manuscripts
do not include
7:53–8:11.]”
English Standard Adds space and subhead: “Some manuscripts end the book with 16:8; 7:53–8:11 “Some manuscripts do not
Version “[Some of the earliest others include vv. 9–20 immediately after v. 8. included in the include 7:53–8:11; others
manuscripts do not include A few manuscripts insert additional material text with space add the passage here or
16:9–20.]” 16:9–20 after v. 14; one Latin manuscript adds after added and a after 7:36 or after 21:25
included in the text. v. 8 the following: But they reported briefly subhead: “[The or after Luke 21:38, with
to Peter and those with him all that they had earliestmanuscripts variations in the text”
been told. And after this, Jesus himself sent do not include
out by means of them, from east to west, 7:53–8:11.]”
the sacred and imperishable proclamation of
eternal salvation. Other manuscripts include
this same wording after v. 8, then continue
with vv. 9–20.”
(continued)
APPENDIX 7.1 Presentations of Mark 16:9–20 and John 7:53–8:11 in Recent English Translations (continued)
Mark 16:9–20 John 7:53–8:11

Reina Valera 16:9–20 included in the text No comment 7:53–8:11 No comment
with no special treatment included in the
text with no
special treatment
The Message 16:9–20 included in the text “Mark 16:9–20 [the portion in brackets] is 7:53–8:11 No comment
but placed in brackets contained only in later manuscripts.” included in the
text with no
special treatment
New American 16:9–20 included in the text “Some of the oldest mss. do not contain vv. 7:53–8:11 “John 7:53—8:11 is not
Standard Bible but placed in brackets 9–20.” included in the found in most of the old
text, placed in mss.”
brackets
Holman Christian 16:9–20 included in the text “16:9–20 Other mss omit bracketed text.” 7:53–8:11 “8:11 Other mss omit
Standard but placed in brackets included in the bracketed text”
text, placed in
brackets
2016 Christian Extra vertical spacing with “Other mss. include vv. 9–20 as a longer Extra vertical “Other mss include all or
Standard Bible the note “[Some of the ending. The following shorter ending is spacing with some of the passage after
earliest mss conclude with found in some mss between vv. 8 and 9 and the note “[The Jn 7:36,44,52; 21:25; or
16:8.]” The text of 16:9–20 in one ms after v. 8 (each of which omits vv. earliest mss Lk 21:38.”
then appears within 9–20): And all that had been commanded to do not include
brackets. them they quickly reported to those around 7:53–8:11.]”
Peter. After these things, Jesus himself sent
out through them from east to west, the holy
and imperishable proclamation of eternal
salvation. Amen.”
2011 Common 16:9–20 is included with “In most critical editions of the Gk New 7:53–8:11 is “Critical editions of the
English Bible extra vertical spacing, a Testament, the Gospel of Mark ends at 16:8.” included after Gk New Testament do not
gray bar, and small left and extra vertical contain 7:53–8:11.”
right indents. A subhead, spacing, along
“Endings added Later,” with a gray bar
is followed by the shorter and small left and
ending in single brackets and right indents. (No
the longer ending in double special subhead.)
brackets.
1946 (Pre-1971) vv. 9–20 are not printed in “Other texts and versions add as 16.9–20 the 7:53–8:11 are not “Other ancient authorities
Revised Standard the text following passage: 9 Now when he rose early printed in the text add 7:53–8:11 either here
Version on the first day of the week, he appeared first or at the end of this gospel
to Mary Magdalene, from whom.” or after Luke 21.38, with
variations of the text:
53
They went each to his
own house, 81but Jesus
went to the Mount of
Olives.”
1965 Catholic 16:9–20 included in the text “Other ancient authorities omit vv. 9–20. 7:53–8:11 “Some ancient authorities
Revised Standard with no special treatment Some ancient authorities conclude Mark included in the insert 7:53–8:11 either
Version instead with the following: But they reported text with no at the end of this gospel
briefly to Peter and those with him all that special treatment or after Luke 21.38, with
they had been told. And after this, Jesus variations of the text.
himself sent out by means of them, from Others omit it altogether.”
east to west, the sacred and imperishable
proclamation of eternal salvation”
1971 Revised 16:9–20 included with an “Some of the most ancient authorities bring 7:53–8:11 “The most ancient
Standard Version extra line of spacing above the book to a close at the end of v. 8. One included with authorities omit 7.53–8.11;
the passage authority concludes the book by adding after an extra line of other authorities add the
v. 8 the following: But they reported briefly spacing above and passage here or after 7.36
to Peter and those with him all that they had below the passage or after 21.25 or after
been told. And after this, Jesus himself sent Luke 21.38, with variations
out by means of them, from east to west, of text.”
the sacred and imperishable proclamation of
eternal salvation. Other authorities include
the preceding passage and continue with vv.
9–20. In most authorities vv. 9–20 follow
immediately after v. 8; a few authorities insert
additional material after v. 14.”
New Revised Adds subhead: “The Shorter “Some of the most ancient authorities bring 7:53–8:11 placed “The most ancient
Standard Version Ending of Mark” along the book to a close at the end of v. 8. One in double brackets authorities lack 7:53–8:11;
with the text of the shorter authority concludes the book with the shorter other authorities add
ending; and then another ending; others include the shorter ending the passage here or after
subhead: “The Longer and then continue with vv. 9–20. In most 7:36 or after 21:25 or
Ending of Mark” along with authorities vv. 9–20 follow immediately after after Luke 21:38, with
vv. 9–20. In addition, both v. 8, though in some of these authorities the variations of text; some
endings are placed in double passage is marked as being doubtful.” mark the passage as
brackets. doubtful.”
10. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Aland, Kurt. Studien zur Überlieferung das Neuen Testaments und Seines Textes. Berlin: De Gruyter, 1967.
Becker, Ulrich. Jesus und die Ehebrecherin: Untersuchungen zur Text- und Überlieferungsgeschichte von Joh.
7:53–8:11. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft. Berlin: Aolf Töpelmann, 1963.
Black, David Alan, ed. Perspectives on the Ending of Mark: 4 Views. Nashville, TN: Broadman & Holman, 2008.
Blair, Christine Eaton. The Art of Teaching the Bible: A Practical Guide for Adults. Louisville, KY: Westminster
John Knox Press, 2001.
Bovon, François. “Beyond the Canonical and the Apocryphal Books, the Presence of a Third Category: The
Books Useful for the Soul.” Harvard Theological Review 105.2 (2012): 125–37.
Bridges, Carl B. “The Canonical Status of the Longer Ending of Mark.” Stone-Campbell Journal 9 (Fall
2006): 231–42.
Bruce, F. F. “The End of the Second Gospel.” Evangelical Quarterly 17.3 (July 1945): 169–81.
Comfort, Philip. “The Pericope of the Adulteress.” Bible Translator 40.1 (January 1989): 145–47.
Croy, N. Clayton. The Mutilation of Mark’s Gospel. Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 2003.
Ehrman, Bart D. “Jesus and the Adulteress.” New Testament Studies 34 (1988): 24–44.
Franco, Kevin M. “A Fitting End? The Text-Critical Problems of Mark 16.” Lombard, IL: Northern Theological
Seminary, 2009.
Green, Elizabeth E. “Making Her Case and Reading It Too: Feminist Readings of the Story of the Woman Taken
in Adultery.” Pages 240–67 in Ciphers in the Sand: Interpretations of the Woman Taken in Adultery (John
7.53–8.11). Edited by Larry J. Kreitzer and Deborah W. Rooke. The Biblical Seminary. Sheffield: Sheffield
Academic Press, 2000.
Haenchen, Ernst. John 1: A Commentary on the Gospel of John, Chapters 1–6. Edited by Robert W. Funk.
Translated by Robert W. Funk with Ulrich Busse. Hermeneia: A Critical and Historical Commentary on the
Bible. Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1984.
Hearon, Holly E. “The Implications of ‘Orality’ for Studies of the Biblical Text.” Oral Tradition 19.1
(2004): 96–107.
Heil, John Paul. “A Rejoinder to ‘Reconsidering ‘The Story of Jesus and the Adulteress Reconsidered’’ (John
7:53–8:11).” Église et Théologie 25.3 (October 1994): 361–6.
Heil, John Paul. “The Story of Jesus and the Adulteress (John 7,53–8,11) Reconsidered.” Biblica 72
(1991): 182–91.
Juel, Donald. “A Disquieting Silence: The Matter of the Ending.” Pages 1–13 in The Ending of Mark and the
Ends of God: Essays in Memory of Donald Harrisville Juel. Edited by Beverly Roberts Gaventa and Patrick
D. Miller. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2005.
Keith, Chris. “The Initial Location of the Pericope Adulterae in Fourfold Tradition.” Novum Testamentum 51
(2009): 209–31.
Keith, Chris. The Pericope Adulterae, the Gospel of John, and the Literacy of Jesus. New Testament Tools,
Studies and Documents. Leiden: Brill, 2009.
Keith, Chris. “A Performance of the Text: The Adulteress’s Entrance into John’s Gospel.” Pages 49–69 in The
Fourth Gospel in First-Century Media Culture. Edited by Anthony Le Donne and Tom Thatcher. Library of
New Testament Studies. London: T&T Clark, 2011.
Keith, Chris. “Recent and Previous Research on the Pericope Adulterae (John 7.53–8.11).” Currents in Biblical
Research 6.3 (2008): 377–404.
Kelhoffer, James A. Miracle and Mission: The Authentication of Missionaries and Their Message in the Longer
Ending of Mark. Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000.
Knust, Jennifer Wright. “Early Christian Re-Writing and the History of the Pericope Adulterae.” Journal of
Early Christian Studies 14.4 (Winter 2006): 485–536.
Kuskein, David P. “Textual Criticism Brief: Mark 16:9–20.” Wisconsin Lutheran Quarterly 102.1 (2005): 58–9.
Lake, K. Codex 1 of the Gospels and Its Allies. Texts and Studies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967.
Magness, J. Lee. Sense and Absence: Structure and Suspension in the Ending of Mark’s Gospel. The Society of
Biblical Literature Semeia Studies. Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1986.
McDonald, Lee Martin, and James H. Charlesworth. “Introduction: ‘Non-Canonical’ Religious Texts in Early
Judaism and Early Christianity.” Pages 1–8 in “Non-Canonical” Religious Texts in Early Judaism and Early
Christianity. Edited by Lee M. McDonald and James H. Charlesworth. Jewish and Christian Texts in
Contexts and Related Studies 14. London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2012.
McDonald, Lee Martin, and James A. Sanders, eds. The Canon Debate. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2002.
McMillan, Earl. “Textual Authority for John 7:53–8:11.” Restoration Quarterly 3.1 (1959): 18–22.
Metzger, Bruce M. A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament: A Companion Volume to the United
Bible Societies’ Greek New Testament. 3rd ed. London: United Bible Societies, 1971.
Metzger, Bruce M. Reminiscences of an Octogenarian. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1997.
Nickelsburg, George W. E. “Why Study the Extra-Canonical Literature? A Historical and Theological Essay.”
Neotestamentica 28.3 (1994): 181–204.
O’Day, Gail. “John 7:53–8:11: A Study in Misreading.” Journal of Biblical Literature 111.4 (1992): 631–40.
Person, Jr., Raymond F. “Formulas and Scribal Memory: A Case Study of Text-Critical Variants as Examples of
Category-Triggering.” In Weathered Words: Formulaic Language and Verbal Art. Edited by Frog and William
Lamb. Washington, DC: Center for Hellenic Studies, forthcoming.
Rhoads, David, Joanna Dewey, and Donald Michie. Mark as Story: An Introduction to the Narrative of a
Gospel. 3rd ed. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2012.
Rius-Camps, Josep. “The Pericope of the Adulteress Reconsidered: The Nomadic Misfortunes of a Bold
Pericope.” New Testament Studies 53.3 (July 2007): 379–405.
Scott, J. Martin C. “On the Trail of a Good Story: John 7.53–8.11 in the Gospel Tradition.” Pages 53–82 in
Ciphers in the Sand: Interpretations of the Woman Taken in Adultery (John 7.53–8.11). Edited by Larry J.
Kreitzer and Deborah W. Rooke. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000.
Thomas, John Christopher, and Kimberly Ervin Alexander. “ ‘And the Signs Are Following’: Mark 16.9–20—A
Journey into Pentecostal Hermeneutics.” Journal of Pentecostal Theology 11.2 (2003): 147–70.
Thuesen, Peter Johannes. In Discordance with the Scriptures: American Protestant Battles Over Translating the
Bible. New York: Oxford University Press, 1999.
Trompf, G. W. “The Markusschluss in Recent Research.” Australian Biblical Review 21 (October 1973): 15–26.
Vorster, Willem S. “The Reader in the Text: Narrative Material.” Pages 21–39 in Reader Perspectives on the
New Testament. Edited by Edgar V. McKnight. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature, 1989.
Wall, Robert W. “A Response to Thomas/Alexander, ‘And the Signs Are Following’ (Mark 16.9–20).’ ” Journal
of Pentecostal Theology 11.2 (2003): 171–83.
Wallace, Daniel B. “Reconsidering ‘The Story of Jesus and the Adulteress Reconsidered.’ ” New Testament
Studies 39.2 (April 1993): 290–6.
Witherington III, Ben. “A Text without a Home.” Biblical Archaeology Review 34.4 (July/August 2008): 28.
Zwemer, S. M. “The Last Twelve Verses of the Gospel of Mark.” Evangelical Quarterly 17.1 (January
1945): 13–23.
Zylstra, Sarah Eekhoff. “Is ‘Go and Sin No More’ Biblical?” Christianity Today 52.6 (June 2008): 46.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Reconsidering the Poor: A Fresh

Translation of Matthew 5:3
JOHAN FERREIRA
After a brief introduction of Jesus’ message about the imminent arrival of the kingdom of heaven
in the Gospel of Matthew (4:17, 23), the beatitudes open the Sermon on the Mount, which is
the first detailed account of Jesus’ teaching.1 The Sermon describes the transformation that will
take place in the lives of those affected by the power of the coming kingdom and thus defines
the character of those belonging to the heavenly kingdom. In the later history of Christianity, the
beatitudes have determined, perhaps more than any other section of the New Testament, the tone
of Christian ethics and behavior. The beatitudes also raise several scholarly questions and exegetical
challenges. To what extent do the beatitudes reflect the ipsissima verba Jesu? How do they relate
to Jewish tradition and first-century Jewish thought? How do the beatitudes convey the message
of the Gospel of the kingdom? And how do we account for the similarities and the dissimilarities
of the beatitudes in Matthew and Luke? These are just a few of the issues presented to us by the
beatitudes.
Notwithstanding these larger questions, the aim of this short study is ambitious. It wants to
offer a new translation of the first beatitude in Matt 5:3, reflect on the authenticity of the text, and
then briefly comment on the social context of the early Jesus movement. The study will argue that
the meaning of Matt 5:3 has been obscured by the standard translations and that as a result the
significance of this text for understanding Jesus and the early Jesus movement’s attitude toward
wealth and poverty has been overlooked. Based on an analysis of the Greek grammar, the meaning
of key terms, the theology of Matthew, the early versions, and the context of the historical Jesus,
I want to argue that the usual translation of Matt 5:3 needs revision.
1. TRANSLATING MATTHEW 5:3

A review of the major English versions demonstrates a consistent rendering of the Greek text. We
may note the following examples from popular translations:
It is a pleasure to contribute this study to the Festschrift of an extraordinary scholar and gracious benefactor, James
Charlesworth, who taught a new generation of scholars not just to read the texts of early Christianity and Judaism but to
cherish them.
1
The Sermon on the Mount is the first of five major educational discourses within the Gospel of Matthew. These discourses
are the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5–7), the Mission of the Twelve (Matthew 10), the Parables of the Kingdom
(Matthew 13), the New Community of the Church (Matthew 18), and the Olivet Discourse (Matthew 23–25).
Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. (King James Version)
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. (New Revised Standard
Version)
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. (New American
Standard Bible)
How blessed are the poor in spirit: the kingdom of Heaven is theirs. (New Jerusalem Bible)
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. (New International Version)
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. (English Standard Version)
After reading these highly regarded and widely circulated translations, one would think that there
are no issues in our understanding of the underlying Greek text; they all agree. However, on closer
scrutiny one realizes that this is not the case and that the typical translation of Matt 5:3 is in fact a
theological reinterpretation or spiritualization of the Greek.2 The Greek text reads:
Μακάριοι οἱ πτωχοὶ τῷ πνεύματι, ὅτι αὐτῶν ἐστιν ἡ βασιλεία τῶν οὐρανῶν.3
A fairly literal translation reads as follows:
Blessed [are] the poor [by/in] the Spirit/spirit, because theirs is the kingdom of (the) heaven(s).
Syntactically, the beatitude consists of two clauses. The main clause pronounces the blessing whereas
the second subordinate clause explains the reason for the blessing. The omission of the verb in
the first clause follows the standard formulaic structure of the beatitude genre and highlights the
certainty of the pronouncement. The predicate adjective (μακάριοι; beati in Latin) is followed by an
articulated substantivized adjective (οἱ πτωχοὶ), which enjoys the emphasis. The predicate adjective
is placed in the first position for emphasis. In the subordinate causal clause, introduced by ὅτι, the
pronoun (αὐτῶν), which refers back to “the poor,” is placed before the verb since the author is
inclined to accentuate the subject of the complement sentence, the kingdom of heaven (ἡ βασιλεία
τῶν οὐρανῶν), it being also the main theme of the Sermon on the Mount. In terms of grammar and
semantics, the second clause of the beatitude does not cause any difficulty. The plural ἡ βασιλεία
τῶν οὐρανῶν is a Hebraism (‫ )מַ לְ כּות הַ ּׁשָ מַ יִ ם‬and is best translated with the singular in English, the
kingdom of heaven. The poor are blessed because they are in the kingdom of heaven.4 The present
tense ἐστιν of the first beatitude and the last beatitude (v. 10) indicates that the kingdom has already
become present in the experience of the disciples.5
The first clause, however, raises several interpretive questions. There are at least three questions
that the translator must answer, which are all critical for our understanding of this text. Who are
“the poor”? What is meant by “spirit”? And how does one interpret the use of the dative case
2
Every translation is of course an interpretation of the source text. However, translations often demand interpretative
decisions that may obfuscate ambiguity or may result in either a semantic expansion or reduction in the target language.
3
There are no significant textual variants.
4
It is debated whether or not the kingdom belongs to the poor or are made up of the poor. The pronoun αὐτῶν is probably
a partitive genitive, meaning the people of the kingdom are of such a kind. Also see William F. Albright and C. S. Mann,
Matthew, AB 26 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1981), 46, who state, “the best sense here is ‘the Kingdom will consist of
such as these’.” The background is probably the eschatological vision in Dan 7:18, 22 where the holy ones gain possession
of the kingdom.
5
I understand v. 11 to be a further explication or expansion of the eighth beatitude that deals with persecution.
Reconsidering the Poor: Matthew 5:3 109
(τῷ πνεύματι)? In classical Greek literature the adjective πτωχός, used substantively, is a strong word
and describes those who are destitute and who need to beg for food and clothing.6 In the New
Testament, however, the term, influenced by the Hebrew Bible and early Judaism, has acquired
a wider semantic range and is sometimes used in the broader sense of being in need of financial
resources, health, support, protection, and so on (cf. Luke 6:20; 2 Cor 6:10; Rev 3:17). In the
Septuagint, πτωχός is used to translate a range of Hebrew terms, including ‫עָנִ י‬, ‫ּדַ ל‬, ‫( ָרׁש‬participle of
‫)רּוׁש‬, and ‫אֶ בְ יֹון‬. These Hebrew terms cover a wide semantic range and are often used to describe
those who are in special need of God’s help and protection.7 This background serves to widen the
semantic range and softens the harshness of πτωχός in the Gospels. Consequently, many interpreters
have understood οἱ πτωχοί as referring to spiritual poverty rather than material poverty.8 However,
it is questionable whether any of these words used for the poor in the Hebrew Bible ever refer to
spiritual poverty or humility. They refer to those who are in need of physical or concrete assistance.
In any case, an interpretation in terms of spiritual poverty does not accord with the general meaning
of πτωχός in the New Testament.9
The term πτωχός occurs thirty-four times in the New Testament, five times in Matthew (5:3;
11:5; 19:21; 26:9, 11), five times in Mark (10:21; 12:42, 43; 14:5, 7), ten times in Luke (4:18;
6:20; 7:22; 14:13, 21; 16:20, 22; 18:22; 19:8; 21:3), four times in John (12:5, 6, 8; 13:29),
four times in Paul (Rom 15:26; 2 Cor 6:10; Gal 2:10; 4:9), four times in James (2:2, 3, 5, 6),
and twice in Revelation (3:17; 13:16). Apart from the metaphorical use of the term in Rev 3:17,
in all other occurrences the term refers to material poverty, describing those who experience lack
in terms of finances, clothing, health, protection, status, honor, and so on. In the Gospel of Luke,
Jesus’ message is particularly geared toward the poor, to bring them restoration and blessing (Luke
4:18–21). Hence, Luke singles out a range of people in this category and shows that Jesus is
very concerned about them, for example, the sick, the handicapped, slaves, lepers, shepherds,
prostitutes, the oppressed, Samaritans, Gentiles, widows, and women.
Although this concern or special focus on the poor is not so pronounced in the Gospel of
Matthew, in all instances πτωχός refers to those who are materially poor. In answer to John’s
question, whether he was the one foretold by the Scriptures, Jesus answers that “the blind receive
6
See I. Howard Marshall, The Gospel of Luke: A Commentary on the Greek Text (Exeter: Paternoster Press, 1978), 249: “The
Gk. word means ‘one who is so poor as to have to beg’, i.e. one who is completely destitute.”
7
For example, see 1 Sam 18:23; Job 36:15; Pss 34:6; 40:7; 70:5. In these texts, the poor person is not destitute needing
food and clothing for survival but stands in need of God’s help. Also see the comment by Rabbi Joseph in the Talmud: “Rav
Yosef said: We hold that a Torah scholar will not become poor. The Gemara challenges this statement: But we see that they
do become poor. The Gemara answers: Even so, if there is a Torah scholar who becomes poor, he will still never have to go
around asking for charity at people’s doors”; The William Davidson Talmud, b. Šabb. 151b.
8
For example, see Leon Morris, “The poor in spirit in the sense of this beatitude are those who recognize that they are
completely and utterly destitute in the realm of the spirit”, The Gospel According to Matthew (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans,
1992), 95; and R. T. France, “Poor in spirit warns us immediately that the thought here is not (as it is in Luke 6:20) of
material poverty”; Matthew: An Introduction and Commentary (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1985), 109.
9
We may also note here that “The Poor” is used as a technical term to describe the Qumran community in the sectarian
documents of the Dead Sea Scrolls (e.g., 1QpHab xii 3, 6a, 10a; 1QM xi 9, 3; xiii 14). The main idea is not that the
members of the community were destitute but that they stood in need of God’s help and protection amidst persecution.
Several scholars have seen a connection between Matthew’s beatitude and the Qumran community. For example, see David
Flusser, “Blessed Are the Poor in Spirit …,” IEJ 10 (1960): 1–13; and John Nolland, The Gospel of Matthew: A Commentary
on the Greek Text (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2005), 199–201.
their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up,
and the poor have good news preached to them” (Matt 11:5). Here, the poor belong to the same
category of people as the blind, the lame, and the sick. When the rich young man asked what he
lacked, Jesus says, “If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and
you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me” (Matt 19:21). The young man went away
sad because he could not sell his possessions to generate funds for the poor. And when the woman
anointed Jesus in Bethany, there was animosity among the disciples because the ointment could
have been sold and the money given to the poor (Matt 26:6–13). In all these instances, material
poverty is in view. The poor are those who have limited means or who are restricted in terms
of finances, health, freedom, opportunities, power, and status. The poor are sociologically and
economically defined. They stand over against those who are not restricted in terms of finances,
health, freedom, opportunities, power, and status.
Therefore, it is questionable whether we should understand the first beatitude as referring to
those who are spiritually poor or to those who are humble. This interpretation goes against the
general meaning of the term as used in the New Testament and in the Gospel of Matthew. In
addition, those who understand οἱ πτωχοί as referring to the spiritually poor or the humble find it
difficult to explain the distinction between being spiritually poor and the third beatitude referring
to the meek. So, Meier surmises that they “might almost be considered functional equivalents.”10
Hence, the third beatitude becomes redundant. There are other terms that could have been used
to indicate that the blessed ones are those who are humble before God, if the author wanted to
express that meaning. The Septuagint and the New Testament mostly use the adjectives ταπεινός or
πραΰς to refer to humility and meekness. In fact, it is hard to imagine that the author of Matthew
or Jesus would have commended those who are spiritually poor. One problem with the world is
that many are materially rich but spiritually poor, rather it is more blessed to be materially poor
but spiritually rich (cf. Luke 12:21; 2 Cor 6:3–10; Rev 3:17–18). Strictly speaking, to be spiritually
poor is the opposite of being humble and contrite before God. From a biblical perspective, those
who are remorseful for their shortcomings and are full of reverence for God are the spiritually
rich (cf. Rev 2:9; 3:17–18). If the common translation and understanding of the first beatitude in
English are correct, one would have expected the Greek to read, μακάριοι οἱ ταπεινοὶ τῇ καρδίᾳ, or
μακάριοι οἱ πραεῖς τῇ καρδίᾳ. The meaning of these readings is unambiguous.
The second question that we need to address relates to the meaning of πνεῦμα. All our modern
translations take the Greek πνεῦμα as referring to the human spirit and understand the dative as
a dative of reference or respect, hence the translation of “spirit” with lowercase “s.” However, in
light of Matthew’s use it is more likely that πνεῦμα refers to the Holy Spirit rather than the human
spirit. The term πνεῦμα occurs nineteen times in the Gospel of Matthew. It refers four times to
an evil spirit or evil spirits (8:16; 10:1; 12:43, 45), once to Jesus’ spirit (27:50), and once to the
human spirit (26:41), whereas it refers twelve times to the Holy Spirit (1:18, 20; 3:11, 16; 4:1;
10: 20; 12:18, 28, 31, 32; 22:43; 28:19).11 Within the context of the beatitudes, πνεῦμα certainly
10
John P. Meier, Mentor, Message, and Miracles, vol. 2 of A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus (Garden City,
NY: Doubleday, 1994), 334.
11
See Roland Deines, “The Holy Spirit in the Gospel of Matthew,” in The Earliest Perceptions of Jesus in Context: Essays in
Honor of John Nolland, ed. Aaron White, Craig A. Evans, and David Wenham (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2018),
214–15.
does not refer to an evil spirit, nor can it refer to Jesus’ spirit (i.e., his human spirit) since the
adjective is plural, so it either must refer to the human spirit or to the Holy Spirit. Since the term
refers in most instances to the Holy Spirit and only once to the human spirit, it is more likely than
not, all things being equal, that in the first beatitude the term also refers to the Holy Spirit.12
Consequently, with respect to our third question, we may well argue that it is more natural
to understand the dative τῷ πνεύματι as an instrumental dative or as expressing agent (dativus
auctoris), rather than as a dative of reference.13 There are many examples of the expression τῷ
πνεύματι used with instrumental meaning in the New Testament (cf. Matt 22:43; Mark 12:36;
Luke 2:27; 4:1; 10:21; Acts 6:10; 1 Cor 6:11; 14:15; Eph 1:13; 2 Thess 2:8). The instrumental
use of spirit ( ַ‫ )ּבְ רּוח‬is also common in the Hebrew Bible (cf. Exod 14:21; Job 15:30; Ps 48:8; Isa
4:4; Ezek 11:24; 37:1). As we have observed above, it would be odd to understand that those who
are poor with respect to their spirit are blessed. One would expect the opposite, in the kingdom
of heaven the blessed ones must be those who are rich with respect to their spirit (cf. Luke 12:21).
This sentiment is amply illustrated in the Epistle of Barnabas, which exhorts Christians to “be
simple in heart, and rich in spirit” (ἔσῃ ἁπλοῦς τῇ καρδίᾳ καὶ πλούσιος τῷ πνεύματι (Barn. 19:2). In
other words, I want to propose that one should translate πνεῦμα with an uppercase “S” in English
to indicate the Holy Spirit.14
Blessed are the poor by the Spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
This translation not only adheres perfectly well with the grammar of the original Greek and the
Matthean meaning of key terms, it is also consistent with the theology of Matthew.15 In the Gospel
of Matthew the Holy Spirit empowers the coming of the kingdom and brings the power of the
kingdom to bear upon the lives of those entering the kingdom. Mary is found to be with child
12
It is also interesting for our discussion to note the use of the nomen sacrum in a number of early New Testament Greek
manuscripts. The practice of abbreviating divine names—especially for Jesus, Christ, Lord, and God—with the addition of
a line above the abbreviation probably stems from the second century or perhaps even earlier. It was employed as an act of
reverence based on the Jewish practice of respect for the divine name in the Hebrew Bible. The contraction of πνεύματι to
πνι in Matt 5:3 in many New Testament manuscripts (e.g., ‫א‬, C, D) may indicate that the copyists believed that the reference
is to the Holy Spirit. However, copyists were not consistent in their use of the nomen sacrum for the term πνεῦμα, sometimes
the contraction was used, at other times πνεῦμα was written out in full, and often all references to πνεῦμα including evil
spirits are written as a contraction. See Joel D. Estes, “Reading for the Spirit of the Text: Nomina Sacra and πνεῦμα Language
in P46,” NTS 61 (2015): 566–94.
13
Grammarians usually prefer to interpret the dative with respect to πνεῦμα as a dative of instrument rather than of agency
since it involves theological questions regarding the personality of the Spirit. See Daniel B. Wallace’s discussion in Greek
beyond the Basics: An Exegetical Syntax of the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1996), 165–6. With the
dative of agency one usually expects the presence of a verb (cf. Matt 9:34, 12:24).
14
Our interpretation goes against almost all commentators who rarely consider the instrumental dative. The handful of
commentators who do consider it dismiss this possibility too prematurely. For example, Hans Dieter Betz states, “The
dative τῷ πνεύματι (‘in [the] spirit’) is almost certainly referential, not instrumental; the referential dative is not uncommon
elsewhere in the SM and in the New Testament as a whole. Although grammatically possible in Greek, the expression may
be a rendering of a corresponding Hebrew notion.” See his The Sermon on the Mount: A Commentary on the Sermon on
the Mount, Including the Sermon on the Plain (Matthew 5:3–7:27 and Luke 6:20–49) (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press,
1995), 112.
15
Ulrich Luz does not explain why he thinks that understanding πνεύμα to refer to the Holy Spirit is “philologically
impossible.” See his Matthew 1–7: A Commentary on Matthew 1–7, rev. ed. (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2007), 232.
So too Nolland discards this possibility without an explanation, “But a reference to God’s Spirit here seems quite unlikely;
the context supports reference rather to the human spirit”; The Gospel of Matthew: A Commentary on the Greek Text, 199.
through the agency of the Holy Spirit (εὑρέθη ἐν γαστρὶ ἔχουσα ἐκ πνεύματος ἁγίου … τὸ γὰρ ἐν αὐτῇ
γεννηθὲν ἐκ πνεύματός ἐστιν ἁγίου, Matt 1:18, 20). Here the preposition ἐκ denotes the cause of
Mary’s pregnancy. The Spirit enables the coming of the Messiah who will inaugurate the kingdom
of heaven. John the Baptist proclaims that the one after him will baptize with the Holy Spirit and
fire (αὐτὸς ὑμᾶς βαπτίσει ἐν πνεύματι ἁγίῳ καὶ πυρί, Matt 3:11). After Jesus’ baptism and receipt of
the Spirit, he is led up into the wilderness by the Spirit (τότε ὁ Ἰησοῦς ἀνήχθη εἰς τὴν ἔρημον ὑπὸ
τοῦ πνεύματος, Matt 4:1). Here the preposition ὑπὸ describes the efficient cause of Jesus’ entrance
into the wilderness for spiritual battle. In the discourse in Matthew 10, Jesus states that the Spirit
will provide the wisdom and words in apologetic contexts (τὸ πνεῦμα τοῦ πατρὸς ὑμῶν τὸ λαλοῦν
ἐν ὑμῖν, Matt 10:20).
Perhaps the most obvious passage in Matthew’s Gospel describing the role of the Spirit is the
parable of the strong man. Jesus interprets his power over demons as a demonstration that the
kingdom of God has become present in Galilee (εἰ δὲ ἐν πνεύματι θεοῦ ἐγὼ ἐκβάλλω τὰ δαιμόνια,
ἄρα ἔφθασεν ἐφ᾽ ὑμᾶς ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ, Matt 12:28). This passage is placed in the context of the
quote from the first Servant Song in Second Isaiah, which describes the anointing of the servant
by the Spirit in order to proclaim justice to the poor and the Gentiles (Isa 42:1–4). It is through
the Spirit that the kingdom becomes a present reality. The kingdom and the Spirit are corelative
concepts and are inseparably linked. The working of the Spirit does not just indicate that the
kingdom is present but also that the Spirit is the power behind the coming of the kingdom.16 In his
dispute with the Pharisees in Matt 22:45, Jesus attributes the words of Ps 110:1 to David speaking
by the Spirit (πῶς οὖν Δαυὶδ ἐν πνεύματι καλεῖ αὐτὸν κύριον λέγων, 22:43). The prepositional phrase
ἐν πνεύματι is one of manner with ἐν used instrumentally. All these instances have to do with
empowerment through the Spirit and in the Gospel of Matthew that empowerment enables the
advancement of the kingdom.
Therefore, consistent with the portrayal of the work of the Spirit in the Gospel of Matthew, we
may interpret the expression “the poor by the Spirit” (οἱ πτωχοὶ τῷ πνεύματι) as referring to those
who have become poor through the power of the Spirit for the sake of the kingdom or for the
sake of Jesus. We have many instances of that happening in Matthew. For the sake of the kingdom,
Joseph took Mary as his wife (Matt 1:24), despite the potential stigma. In order to protect the
child, Mary and Joseph fled to Egypt (2:13–14), exposing themselves to hardship and isolation.
In order to prepare the way for Jesus, John the Baptist lived an austere life of wandering in the
wilderness (3:1–4). When the disciples heard Jesus’ call, they left their occupations and homes and
followed him (5:18–22). For Matthew, the ability to repent and to believe is an indication that
the strong man of this world has been bound and that his house is now being plundered (12:29).
This power comes from the Spirit and is an indication of the Spirit baptism that John announced
(3:11). Theoretically, the dative τῷ πνεύματι may refer to the human spirit, that is, those who follow
Jesus became poor through their own voluntary decision, but this interpretation is strained and
unnecessary.17
16
Note the use of the aorist ἔφθασεν (Matt 12:28), stressing that the kingdom is an accomplished reality.
17
This is the interpretation of Adolf Schlatter, Der Evangelist Matthäus: Seine Sprache, sein Ziel, seine Selbständigkeit
(Stuttgart: Calwer, 1929), 133; Ernst Lohmeyer, Das Evangelium des Matthäus (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht,
1967), 83; and Kurt Schubert, “The Sermon on the Mount and the Qumran Texts,” in The Scrolls and the New Testament,
ed. Krister Stendahl with James H. Charlesworth (New York: Crossroad, 1992), 122.
Our interpretation does not spiritualize the meaning of οἱ πτωχοί; it is still material or social
poverty that is in view, but broadly understood. Many sociologists have pointed out that poverty
is a social construction with multidimensional connections, with aspects of economics, culture,
religion, status, identity, and politics.18 The poor in Matthew’s beatitude are not necessarily those
who for the sake of the kingdom have become destitute or beggars. We understand the poor as those
who have suffered physical or social loss for the sake of the kingdom, those who have left their
occupations and homes, those who are now dishonored because they follow Jesus, those who are
now oppressed or persecuted for the sake of the Gospel. In this way the first beatitude corresponds
to the final beatitude (Matt 5:10–11), which pronounces a blessing on those who are persecuted
for righteousness’ sake. The subordinate clause ὅτι αὐτῶν ἐστιν ἡ βασιλεία τῶν οὐρανῶν of the final
beatitude, which is exactly the same as the subordinate clause in the first beatitude, supports this
interpretation. This is also the interpretation that we find in Polycarp’s Epistle to the Philippians.
Polycarp summarizes Jesus’ beatitudes by combining the first and the last beatitude, “Blessed are
the poor, and those that are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of God”
(μακάριοι οἱ πτωχοὶ καὶ οἱ διωκόμενοι ἕνεκεν δικαιοσύνης ὅτι αὐτῶν ἐστὶν ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ, Pol.
Phil. 2:3). Or, perhaps a better understanding of Polycarp is that he interprets the first beatitude by
means of the last beatitude.
Therefore, a careful consideration of the terms οἱ πτωχοί and πνεύμα and the use of the dative
in the Gospel of Matthew support a new understanding of the first beatitude and justify a revised
translation of Matt 5:3.
2. LUKE 6:20 AND THE EARLY VERSIONS OF MATTHEW 5:3

In support of this new translation and interpretation of Matt 5:3, we now add several arguments
external to the Gospel of Matthew that may remove all doubt. First, if we adopt this new reading,
we solve the riddle with respect to the apparent contradiction or difference between Matthew and
Luke’s rendering of the first beatitude.19 In Luke’s version the beatitude reads as follows:
Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. (Luke 6:20)
Μακάριοι οἱ πτωχοί, ὅτι ὑμετέρα ἐστὶν ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ.
Here the meaning of οἱ πτωχοί is unambiguous, it is not qualified with any prepositional phrase
or relative clause. As many commentators have pointed out, “the poor” refers to those who
suffer material poverty, and there is no hint of a spiritualization of poverty in the Gospel of Luke.
18
For example, see Sakari Häkkinen, “Poverty in the First-Century Galilee,” Hervormde Teologiese Studies 72 (2016): 1–9
at 4–5.
19
The logion in the Coptic Gospel of Thomas, “Blessed are the poor, for yours is the kingdom of heaven” (54), is almost
certainly a conflation of Matthew and Luke. It is very unlikely that the historical Jesus would have said these words, since
the poor are not blessed. Note the words of Ahiqar, “there is nothing more bitter than poverty” (Ahiqar 105:22), and
Syriac Menander, “Hateful and dark is poverty, When accompanied by disease and loss, Riches are merely a step to honor,
Riches that will not reduce to poverty are a strong power, Wretched poverty means illness and disease, Health means joy
and rejoicing” (Sentences of the Syriac Menander, 427–33). We disagree with Funk and Hoover who wrote that Jesus
“announced that God’s domain belonged to the poor, not because they were righteous, but because they were poor,” in
The Five Gospels: The Search for the Authentic Words of Jesus, ed. Robert W. Funk, Roy W. Hoover, and the Jesus Seminar
(New York: Macmillan, 1993), 504.
However, it is important to observe that the pronouncement is not a blanket statement about the
poor in general. Luke’s introduction to the Sermon on the Plain, “and he lifted up his eyes on his
disciples, and said,” is crucial for a more nuanced understanding of the poor. Jesus’ declaration
that the poor are blessed is not an indiscriminate statement addressed to the poor in general, rather
the statement describes his disciples. Within the Lukan context they have left their homes and
occupations (cf. Luke 5:11, 28); they have become poor in order to follow Jesus. So, when the rich
ruler went away sad after Jesus commanded him to sell what he owned, Peter responded with the
testimony, “See, we have left our homes and followed you” (18:28). Peter is an example of those
who have become poor in order to follow Jesus. In other words, although expressed differently,
there is no contradiction between Luke’s version and Matthew’s version of the first beatitude. Jesus
is saying the same thing in Luke and Matthew, those who have accused Matthew of spiritualizing
Jesus’ beatitude in Luke have failed to understand Matthew’s version correctly.20 Matthew and
Luke are saying the same thing but in slightly different words.
The translations in our earliest versions of Matthew’s Gospel may also support our interpretation.
The earliest translations of the New Testament are always of interest to the exegete since they
often provide valuable insights into how the early translators understood the text. Of course, their
interpretation of the text is not an infallible guide to the intended meaning of the authors, but they
stood closer to the early Jesus movement and were more familiar with the original languages of
that movement than we are today. The earliest translations of the New Testament are represented
by the Syriac, Latin, and Coptic versions. It is hard to determine which translation was the earliest
and when they were translated, but at least we know that already by the end of the second century
all three translations were in circulation.
According to our current knowledge, the first Syriac translation of the New Testament was
Tatian’s Diatessaron, the Mixed Gospel, which was made ca. 170 ce in Rome. The full text is extant
in two Arabic manuscripts, dating to the twelfth and fourteenth centuries, and in a Latin version.
On the basis of Ephrem’s Syriac commentary on the Diatessaron (Dublin, Chester Beatty Library
Syriac 709) and other fragments, about 80 percent of the Syriac text has been recovered.21 Tatian’s
Diatessaron was very popular in the Syriac church until it was replaced around the fifth century by
the well-known Peshitta version. Its role in Syriac Christianity is similar to that of the Vulgate in the
West. The Syriac text of Matt 5:3 reads:22
‫ܛܘܒܝܗܘܢ ܠܡܤܟܢܐ ܒܪܘܚ ܕܕܝܠܗܘܢ ܗܝ ܡܠܟܘܬܐ ܕܫܡܝܐ ܀‬
James Murdock renders the Syriac as follows:23
20
Most commentators fall into this category. For example, according to Floyd V. Filson, Matthew added “in spirit”; see The
Gospel According to Matthew, 2nd ed. (London: Adam & Charles Black, 1977), 77. William D. Davies and Dale C. Allison
thought that “ ‘in spirit’ is probably redactional”; A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel According to Saint
Matthew (London: T&T Clark, 2004), 442. Joseph A. Fitzmyer inferred that, “By adding ‘in spirit,’ Matthew has adapted
the original beatitude to the ʿănāwîm among the early Jewish Christians”; The Gospel According to Luke I–IX: Introduction,
Translation, and Notes, AB 28 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2008), 632.
21
See Carmel McCarthy, Saint Ephrem’s Commentary on Tatian’s Diatessaron: An English Translation of Chester Beatty
Syriac MS 709 with Introduction and Notes (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993).
22
We may note here the curious translation in the Curetonian Gospels and the Sinaiticus Palimpsest, known as the Separated
Gospels in the Syriac Orthodox Church. “Blessed are the poor by their spirit, because theirs is the kingdom of heaven”
(‫ܠܡܣܟܢܐ ܒܪܘܚܗܘܢ ܕܕܝܠܗܘܢ ܗܝ ܡܠܟܘܬܐ ܕܫܡܝܐ‬ ̈ ‫)ܛܘܒܝܗܘܢ‬.
23
James Murdock, A Literal Translation from the Syriac Peshito Version (New York: Stanford and Swords, 1852).
Blessed are the poor in spirit for the kingdom of heaven is theirs!
The Syriac text does not cause any difficulties. The term ‫ܣܟܢܳ ܐ( ܡܤܟܢܐ‬ ܺ ‫)ܡ‬ܶ is the common Syriac
word for “poor.” The prepositional phrase ‫ܒܪܘܚ‬, which occurs frequently in the Hebrew Bible
( ַ‫)ּבְ רּוח‬, is a direct translation of the Greek.24 The preposition in Syriac (‫)ܒ‬, like Hebrew ( ְ‫)ּב‬, is
commonly used to express instrument or agent. Hence, the Syriac may also be translated as:
Blessed are the poor by the Spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
The earliest known Latin versions consist of a number of fragmentary translations known as the
Vetus Latina or Itala. There appear to be traces of Latin translations in the references of Tertullian
who wrote at the end of the second century and beginning of the third century.25 In Cyprian,
who wrote during the middle of the third century, the evidence for Latin translations is ample.26
Jerome’s Vulgate, whose initial assignment by Pope Damascus I in 382 was to revise the Gospel
translations of the Vetus Latina based on the best Greek manuscripts, became the standard Bible
of the West for the next thousand years. The modern printed Vulgate renders Matt 5:3 as follows:
Beati pauperes spiritu quoniam ipsorum est regnum caelorum.
This reading follows the text of the Vetus Latina exactly:27
Beati pauperes spū quoniam ipsorum est regnum caelorum.
Among other possibilities, the ablative spiritu expresses the instrumental case (or agent) in Latin,
hence we may translate the Latin as “Blessed are the poor by the Spirit.” Of course, the ablative
may also be used in a locative sense, meaning “in” or as an ablative of respect (corresponding to
the dative of reference in Greek) but as we have argued above the instrumental meaning expressing
agency may be preferred.28 Therefore, it is acceptable to translate the Latin in the same way as our
suggested translation of the Greek text, “Blessed are the poor by the Spirit, because theirs is the
kingdom of heaven.”
Finally, I may refer briefly to the Coptic Bible. The first translation of the New Testament into
Coptic appears to be around the latter half of the second century in Upper Egypt in the Sahidic
dialect. The more literal Bohairic version followed shortly after the Sahidic (in it the order of the
Gospels is: John, Matthew, Mark, Luke). In the Sahidic version, Matt 5:3 reads as follows:
24
The modern Hebrew translation of the text is: ‫אַ ְׁש ֵרי עֲנִ ּיֵי הָ רּוחַ ּכִ י לָהֶ ם מַ לְ כּות הַ ּׁשָ מָ יִ ם‬. Literally, “Blessed are the poor of spirit,
because theirs is the kingdom of the heavens.”
25
H. A. G. Houghton, The Latin New Testament: A Guide to Its Early History, Texts, and Manuscripts (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2016), 5–8.
26
Ibid., 9.
27
Codex Bezae (D), which provides a bilingual text with Greek on the left and Latin on the right, dating from the fifth
century, follows the same convention by rendering spirit as a nominem sacrum. Our oldest complete manuscript of the
Vulgate, Codex Amiatinus, which was produced ca. 700 ce, follows this early tradition. We may also note the fourth-
century Codex Vercellensis, our oldest extant copy of the Vetus Latina, in which the copyist made use of the nomina sacra
convention by rendering “spiritu” as “spū.” But as in the Greek manuscripts, the use of the contraction is indiscriminate.
See Tomas Bokedal, “The Nomina Sacra: Highlighting the Sacred Figures of the Text,” in The Formation and Significance of
the Christian Biblical Canon (New York: T&T Clark, 2014), 83–124.
28
There are many examples of the ablative spiritu expressing instrument or agency in the Vulgate with and without the
preposition “ab” or “in.” For example, see Mark 1:8, Luke 10:21; Acts 1:5; 2:4; 4:8, 25; 10:38; 11:16; 20:22; Rom
8:13–14; 1 Cor 14:15; 2 Cor 3:3; 12:18; Gal 5:5, 16, 18, 25; Eph 1:13.
ϫⲉ ⲛⲁⲓⲁⲧⲟⲩ ⲛⲛϩⲏⲕⲉ ϩⲙ ⲡⲉⲡⲛⲁ ϫⲉ ⲧⲱⲟⲩ ⲧⲉ ⲧⲙⲛⲧⲣⲣⲟ ⲛⲙⲡⲏⲩⲉ.

Horner translates the Coptic as follows:29
Blessed are the poor in the spirit, because theirs is the kingdom of the heavens.
The Bohairic version is different:
ⲱⲟⲩⲛⲓⲁⲧⲟⲩ ⲛⲛⲓϩⲏⲕⲓ ⲙⲡⲓⲡⲛⲁ ϫⲉ ⲑⲱⲟⲩ ⲧⲉ ϯⲙⲉⲧⲟⲩⲣⲟ ⲛⲧⲉ ⲛⲓⲫⲏⲟⲩⲓ.
Again, Horner’s translation is as follows:30
Blessed are the poor of spirit, because theirs is the kingdom of the heavens.
Like the Syriac and Latin translations above, it is natural to translate the first clause of the beatitude
as “Blessed are the poor by the Spirit.” The Sahidic preposition ϩⲙ is also used to express agent
(e.g., “with,” “by,” “through”). In the Bohairic version the “spirit” (ⲙⲡⲓⲡⲛⲁ) is in the genitive case,
in combination with the strong form of the article (ⲡⲓ), we may translate literally as “Blessed are
the poor of the Spirit.” Therefore, to conclude our observations on the early versions, there is
no attempt in the early translations to interpret the beatitude as referring to spiritual poverty or
humility; at least the ambiguity of the Greek text remains ambiguous in the early versions. These
early versions do not destabilize our translation and understanding of the Greek text.
How, then, do we explain the current translation and understanding of the text as referring to
spiritual poverty, since, as I have argued, that is not the most natural translation of the text within
the context of the Gospel of Matthew? By way of explanation I may make two observations.
First, the early Christian movement gained rapid success during the first centuries of our current
era, not only among the lower classes of Roman society but also among the upper classes of the
populace. Many prominent thinkers were drawn to the Christian faith and by the early fourth
century even the emperor of the Roman empire, Constantine, became a Christian. Christianity
became very popular and being a Christian became a mark of honor instead of shame as in earlier
times. As a result of this radical shift in the status and clientele of Christianity, the Gospels’ apparent
disparagement of wealth became problematic. Jesus’ command to many people in the Gospels to
leave their occupations, homes, and possessions—not to gather treasure on earth but in heaven—
would not have sat well with the affluent and wealthy church. In other words, in order to lessen
the somewhat radical and countercultural teaching of Jesus with respect to wealth, texts dealing
with the dangers of riches and the embrace of poverty were spiritualized to circumvent offense.
Therefore, despite the corollary of Luke 6:20, the prepositional phrase τῷ πνεύματι came to be
interpreted as poverty of soul or contrition before God, that is, Matt 5:3 was spiritualized.
For example, John Chrysostom (ca. 349–407), who was the bishop of Constantinople, comments
on the text as follows: “What is meant by the poor in spirit? The humble and contrite in mind. For
by spirit He has here designated the soul, and the faculty of choice” (Homily 15 on Matthew).31
29
George William Horner, The Coptic Version of the New Testament in the Southern Dialect Otherwise Called Sahidic and
Thebaic (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1911), 31.
30
George William Horner, The Coptic Version of the New Testament in the Northern Dialect (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1898), 25.
31
Chrysostom, Homilies on the Gospel of St. Matthew 15 (NPNF1 10:92).
Likewise Augustine (ca. 354–430) explains: “And the poor in spirit are rightly understood here, as
meaning the humble and God-fearing, i.e. those who have not the spirit which puffs up” (On the
Sermon on the Mount, Book 1).32 Although Leo the Great (ca. 400–461) spiritualizes the text, he
cannot avoid bringing out the material implications of the beatitude. He surmised:
It would perhaps be doubtful what poor He was speaking of, if in saying blessed are the poor
He had added nothing which would explain the sort of poor: and then that poverty by itself
would appear sufficient to win the kingdom of heaven which many suffer from hard and heavy
necessity. But when He says blessed are the poor in spirit, He shows that the kingdom of heaven
must be assigned to those who are recommended by the humility of their spirits rather than by
the smallness of their means. Yet it cannot be doubted that this possession of humility is more
easily acquired by the poor than the rich: for submissiveness is the companion of those that want,
while loftiness of mind dwells with riches. Notwithstanding, even in many of the rich is found
that spirit which uses its abundance not for the increasing of its pride but on works of kindness,
and counts that for the greatest gain which it expends in the relief of others’ hardships. It is given
to every kind and rank of men to share in this virtue, because men may be equal in will, though
unequal in fortune: and it does not matter how different they are in earthly means, who are
found equal in spiritual possessions. Blessed, therefore, is poverty which is not possessed with
a love of temporal things, and does not seek to be increased with the riches of the world, but is
eager to amass heavenly possessions. (Sermon 95)33
We notice the same ambivalence in Calvin as he struggled to combine the medieval tradition of
spiritual poverty and the palpable meaning of the text:
The metaphor in Luke is unadorned, but, as for many, poverty is accursed and to no good,
Matthew expresses Christ’s mind with more clarity. As many are caught up in troubles, but do
not cease their inward passion of pride and temper, Christ pronounces blessed those who are
humbled and subdued by their woes, to prostrate themselves at God’s feet, and with interior
submission to commend themselves to His protection. Others interpret poor in spirit as those
who claim nothing for themselves, with all confidence in the flesh dispelled, confess their own
lack of resource. But as the words of Luke and Matthew must have the same sense, there is no
doubt that poor describes those who are afflicted and brought low by adversity. The only point
is that Matthew, by adding the epithet, restricts blessedness to those who have learned humility
in the school of the cross.34
Second, we may observe the impact of Luther’s German translation of the New Testament upon
subsequent translations of the New Testament into European languages. When in 1522 Luther was
hiding in the Wartburg Castle he spent eleven weeks translating the New Testament from Erasmus’
edition of the Greek New Testament into German.35 It was received with great enthusiasm and
32
Augustine, On the Sermon on the Mount, Book 1 (NPNF1 6:4).
33
Leo the Great, Sermon 95 (NPNF2 12:203).
34
John Calvin, A Harmony of the Gospels: Matthew, Mark and Luke. Volume 1, trans. A. W. Morrison (Grand Rapids,
MI: Eerdmans, 1972), 169–70.
35
The translation went through eighty-five editions over the next decade.
inspired new efforts to translate the Bible into vernacular languages all across Europe. Luther’s
Bible renders Matt 5:3 as follows:
Selig sind, die da geistlich arm sind; denn das Himmelreich ist ihr.
In Luther’s translation the spiritualization of the text has become complete with changing the
prepositional phrase into an adjective. Luther appears to have been influenced by the interpretation
of the Church Fathers. Not only is the text spiritualized but the ambiguity of the Greek has also been
removed. Luther’s Bible exerted a great influence upon subsequent translators as can be seen in the
early Dutch translations. The Liesveltbijbel of 1542 (the sixth and final edition; first published in
1526) translated Matt 5:3 as:
Salich sijn die ghene die gheestelijcken arm sijn, wandt dat rijck der hemelen hoort hen toe.
The Statenbijbel of 1637 translated the text as:
Zalig zijn de armen van geest; want hunner is het Koninkrijk der hemelen.
William Tyndale’s English translation in 1526, which was extensively consulted by the translators
of the King James Version of 1611, was also probably influenced by Luther’s version.36 Note the
rendering of these versions below:
Blessed are the povre in sprete: for theirs is the kyngdome of heven. (Tyndale New Testament)
Blessed are the poore in spirit: for theirs is the kingdome of heauen. (KJV)
Hence, these translations, influenced by the traditional interpretation of Matt 5:3 and Luther’s
translation, serve to support the prevailing opinion: the wealthy, as long as they do not love their
wealth and are humble, may still be in possession of heaven.
3. THE AUTHENTICITY OF MATTHEW 5:3

Based on the analysis above, there is reason to believe that Matthew’s first beatitude is not a
spiritualization of Luke’s first beatitude. Although the contexts and the wording are different
in the two Gospels, the meaning of the beatitude is the same, which suggests that both authors
are transmitting an established saying within the early Jesus movement. This raises the question
whether we can trace the saying to the historical Jesus.37 Upon further investigation, using criteria
for assessing historical authenticity, I am confident that the teaching of the first beatitude may be
traced back to Jesus himself.
During the last two or three decades, scholars have developed rigorous methodologies and a
number of historical criteria by which the authenticity of the traditions and sayings in the Gospels
may be judged. By authenticity we mean whether or not events or logoi can be attributed to the
historical Jesus. According to John P. Meier, scholars may use five criteria to assess the historical
reliability of traditions: (1) the criterion of embarrassment (matters that create difficulties for the
36
Jacques Lefèvre d’Étaples produced a French translation (1530), a Czech translation appeared in 1549, a Polish translation
appeared in 1563, and Casiodoro de Reina translated the Bible into Spanish in 1569.
37
We will not attempt to reconstruct the original Aramaic or Hebrew—the ipsissima verba Jesu—that Jesus might have used
but rather try to discern to what extent we may be confident that the teaching of the beatitude stems from Jesus.
church); (2) the criterion of discontinuity (or dissimilarity, teachings of Jesus that do not derive
from Judaism); (3) the criterion of multiple attestation; (4) the criterion of coherence (matters
that are consistent with other aspects of Jesus’ teachings and life); (5) the criterion of rejection and
execution (teachings or deeds that create offence and may contribute to antagonize the religious and
political leaders).38 Charlesworth rearticulated these criteria but substituted Meier’s fifth criterion
with the criterion of a Palestinian Jewish setting.39 On the bases of these criteria, we may argue for
the authenticity of the logion.
The first criterion is that of embarrassment. If an action or saying of Jesus would have caused
embarrassment to the early Christians and to the evangelist it is unlikely that they would have created
it, more probably it would have originated with the historical Jesus. Being poor or becoming poor for
the sake of the Gospel is surely an uncomfortable and inconvenient teaching. It would have created
difficulties for the early church and individual Christians. In terms of Jewish tradition, wealth had
always been positively regarded as a blessing of the Lord.40 The idea that “becoming poor” should
entail blessing goes against traditional Jewish beliefs as well as the prevalent Greco-Roman culture in
which the display of wealth was associated with virtue, status, and power. According to Jeffers, “The
concept of the poor as ‘blessed’ (Matt 5:3; Luke 6:20) would have been incomprehensible to Greek
and Roman aristocrats.”41 In fact, the first beatitude has been problematic for the church throughout
its history, resulting in a reinterpretation of Jesus’ original words, and thus burying the authentic voice
of Jesus in forms of Christianity that veil the scandalon of cross-bearing. Therefore, since it is unlikely
that the disciples in the context of their wealth affirming social milieu would have related poverty with
blessing, and since this idea would have caused all sorts of problems with respect to the propagation of
the Gospel and the recruitment of more followers, we may conclude that the logion goes back to Jesus
himself. Jesus’ genius of linking poverty with blessing is of course determined by his conviction of the
imminent arrival of universal transformation through the kingdom of heaven.
The second criterion is that of discontinuity or dissimilarity. According to Charlesworth, “This
method assumes that what cannot be attributed to Jesus from Judaism or from Jesus’ followers
is most likely authentic to him.”42 With respect to the first beatitude, we may observe that the
beatitude genre was common in early Judaism.43 There was also much reflection on the plight
38
John P. Meier, The Roots of the Problem and the Person, vol. 1 of A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus (Garden
City, NY: Doubleday, 1991), 168–77; John P. Meier, Mentor, Message, and Miracles, vol. 2 of A Marginal Jew: Rethinking
the Historical Jesus (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1994), 6. Also see Stanley E. Porter, “How Do We Know What We Think
We Know? Methodological Reflections on Jesus Research,” in Jesus Research: New Methodologies and Perceptions: The
Second Princeton-Prague Symposium on Jesus Research, Princeton 2007, ed. James H. Charlesworth with Brian Rhea (Grand
Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2014), 82–99.
39
James H. Charlesworth, The Historical Jesus: An Essential Guide (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2008), 20–7.
40
See, e.g., Eric J. Gilchrest’s nuanced discussion of Jewish attitudes toward wealth in Revelation 21-22 in Light of Jewish
and Greco-Roman Utopianism (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 134–7.
41
James S. Jeffers, The Greco-Roman World of the New Testament Era: Exploring the Background of Early Christianity
(Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1999), 189.
42
Charlesworth, The Historical Jesus: An Essential Guide, 22.
43
Apart from the blessings in the Hebrew Bible, a vast number of beatitudes are preserved in the Pseudepigrapha and the
Talmud. Evidence from documents such as 1 Enoch, 2 Enoch, Ben Sira, and the Mishnah shows that the beatitude was a
popular form of teaching that Rabbis employed in pre-70 ce Israel. See W. Zimmerli, “Die Seligpreisungen der Bergpredigt
und das Alte Testament,” in Donum gentilicium: New Testament Studies in Honour of David Daube, ed. C. K. Barrett, E.
Bammel, and W. D. Davies (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978), 8–26; James H. Charlesworth, “The Qumran Beatitudes
of the poor and God’s concern for the poor, as well as an expectation among some circles that
the kingdom of heaven was imminent. However, it is only with the first beatitude of Jesus in the
Gospels that poverty and blessing are linked together. This is something new within the Judaism
of the first century. The pronouncement of blessing and God’s concern for the poor are frequently
found in the Hebrew Bible and Jewish sources but never together.44 Those who show benevolence
to the poor are blessed, not those who are poor (cf. Ps 41:1). According to Jewish tradition, to be
poor is not a blessing, and we would agree. However, Jesus combines blessing and poverty in a
unique way. The poor are not blessed, but those who are poor (or better, those who have become
poor) through the compulsion of the Spirit for the sake of the Gospel are blessed. As Jesus was led
by the Spirit into the wilderness, so too those of the kingdom experience the impulse of the Spirit
to forgo material or temporary advantages for the sake of the Gospel. Thus, Jesus asks, “For what
will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul?” (Matt 16:26). The yearnings
and prayers of those who deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow Jesus will be more
than compensated with the arrival of the kingdom of heaven. We cannot explain the connection
of blessing with poverty on the basis of our extant Jewish sources, therefore the beatitude most
probably originated with Jesus.
Under the criterion of multiple attestation, the evidence for authenticity appears to be weak.
Assuming that the sayings preserved in the Sermon of the Mount in Matthew (Matt 5:3–12) and
the Sermon on the Plain in Luke (Luke 6:20–22) come from Q and that the logion preserved in the
Gospel of Thomas is a conflation of Matthew and Luke, we have only one source for this saying of
Jesus.45 Yet, even though we may not be able to confirm more than one source for the first beatitude,
we may reflect on a similar mindset evident in the teaching and practice of early Christianity.
For example, Paul does not quote the first beatitude, but his words and lifestyle reflect a similar
sentiment (cf. 2 Cor 6:10; 8:9; Phil 3:7–8). So too, the Epistle of James asserts, “Listen, my beloved
brothers, has not God chosen those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the
kingdom, which he has promised to those who love him?” (Jas 2:5). In Revelation those who suffer
persecution will inherit the new heavens and earth and will be blessed (Rev 6:9–11; 7:14).
Although we cannot identify multiple sources, we do note that the concept of the poor being
blessed is transmitted in two different forms, which relates to the secondary criterion of multiple
forms. According to Charlesworth, “A tradition appearing in multiple literary forms most likely
derives from Jesus ultimately.”46 As we have observed above, although the wording of the first
(4Q525) and the New Testament (Mt 5:3-11, Lk 6:20-26),” RHPR 80 (2000): 13–35; and Oliver O. Nwachukwu, Beyond
Vengeance and Protest: A Reflection on the Macarisms in Revelation (New York: Peter Lang, 2005), 25–37.
44
Here we may note the reading in the eschatological hymn of praise in the War Scroll (1QM xiv 7) as translated by Géza
Vermes, “Among the poor in spirit …”; The Dead Sea Scrolls in English, 3rd ed. (London: Penguin, 1990), 120. However,
the word reconstructed as “spirit” (‫—)רוח‬the word immediately before the lacuna where the scroll has deteriorated—is
questionable. Just the first two consonants are clear, it is debatable whether or not the third letter is a ḥēth (‫ )ח‬and we do not
know if it was followed by additional letters ({}‫)ובענוי רו‬. The reading in the Messianic Apocalypse (4Q521 6) may provide
a better basis for reconstructing the missing word: “Over the poor his spirit will hover” (‫)יעל ענוים רוחו תרחף‬.
45
Of course, although most scholars affirm the existence of Q, some scholars still have reservations with the hypothesis.
See Austin M. Farrer, “On Dispensing with Q,” Studies in the Gospels: Essays in Memory of R. H. Lightfoot, ed. Dennis
Eric Nineham (Oxford: Blackwell, 1955), 55–88; Michael Goulder, “Is Q a Juggernaut?,” JBL 115 (1996): 667–81; and
Mark Goodacre, The Case against Q: Studies in Marcan Priority and the Synoptic Problem (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press
International, 2002).
46
Charlesworth, The Historical Jesus: An Essential Guide, 24.
beatitude in the Gospel of Matthew and the Gospel of Luke differs, the meaning is the same. The
poor in Matthew are the ones who are so through the Spirit, like Jesus they are led by the Spirit to
forsake worldly honor and endure suffering for the sake of the Gospel. The poor in Luke, whom
Jesus identifies with his gaze, are his disciples who have left everything to follow him. Of course,
it is conceivable, like most preachers, that Jesus would have preached numerous versions of the
sermon on several occasions with different wording yet expressing the same idea.
The fourth criterion is that of coherence. Charlesworth argues that if one can show that a saying
supported by the first three criteria of authenticity adheres with what we know about what is most
likely to be true of the historical Jesus, the probability that the saying is authentic is increased.47 The
connection of poverty with blessing through the lenses of the coming kingdom adheres with what
we know about Jesus’ general teaching and about his lifestyle. Jesus frequently exhorted people not
to trust in wealth but to be rich toward God. Even the ultra-critical members of The Jesus Seminar
traced the austere ethics in the Gospels back to Jesus himself (e.g., Mark 10:25; Matt 5:39, 40,
42; 8:20; 19:12; Luke 6:21, 29,30; 9:58; 12:6–7, 22–28) and, interestingly, they included in
their list of authentic sayings the Lukan version of the first beatitude.48 In the synoptic Gospels
Jesus often commands certain individuals to sell their possessions and give to the poor or leave
their occupations and follow him (e.g., Mark 8:34–38;10:21; Luke 9:57–61; 12:15, 33–34; Matt
19:16–22). Most scholars agree that Jesus himself left his native village of Nazareth and became an
itinerant preacher. Jesus also remained celibate throughout his life, which was not unheard of but
quite rare in pre-70 ce Judaism.
Finally, we may consider Meier’s fifth criterion of authenticity, the criterion of rejection and
execution. Under this criterion Meier reflects on the reasons why Jesus was arrested and crucified.
There must have been things in Jesus’ teaching and behavior that threatened the Jewish religious
leaders in Jerusalem. According to Meier, “A Jesus whose words and deeds would not alienate
people, especially powerful people, is not the historical Jesus.”49 Jesus’ pronouncement of blessing
upon the poor, those who forgo temporal advantage to join the Jesus movement, would have
offended the elite, especially the affluent and powerful priestly class, and hence contributed toward
their antagonism, which eventually led to Jesus’ murder. The Gospels portray the high priest Joseph
ben Caiaphas (14 bce–46 ce) as one of the figures involved in Jesus’ arrest. Caiaphas and the
priests (the Sadducees) would have had several reasons to silence Jesus. One reason would have
been to mitigate the risk of a Jewish insurrection during Passover, which would have incurred the
fury of the Romans (cf. John 11:45–50). However, Jesus’ cleansing of the temple, denouncing
the commercialization of religion and thereby threatening the prosperity of the priests, would
have increased the ire of the priestly class. Hence, Jesus’ action censuring the temple’s commercial
practices is consistent with his teaching on becoming poor for the sake of the kingdom and
contributed to the events that led to his arrest and death.
Charlesworth’s fifth criterion, which is about discerning a Palestinian Jewish setting for Jesus’
ministry and teaching, also leads us to deduce that Matthew’s first beatitude is an authentic saying
of Jesus. On the one hand, sayings or practices that do not find a precedent in early Judaism may
47
Ibid.
48
Robert W. Funk, Roy W. Hoover, and the Jesus Seminar, eds., The Five Gospels: The Search for the Authentic Words of Jesus
(New York: Macmillan, 1993).
49
John P. Meier, A Marginal Jew, 1.177.
be a unique insight or practice initiated by Jesus, yet on the other hand, the historical Jesus must
be identifiable against the backdrop of early Judaism. The historical Jesus must fit within his social
context, he must be historically plausible. The first beatitude, as I have interpreted it, does make
sense within Jesus’ Palestinian Jewish setting. The beatitude was a common form of teaching among
the Rabbis of Galilee. Also, poverty was a major issue within pre-70 ce Galilee. In particular the
idea that the poor would be vindicated with the coming of the kingdom of God is also prominent
in the Parables of Enoch. The persecution and exclusion that the righteous would experience would
be rewarded in heaven.50 Therefore, it is evident that the first beatitude does fit with first-century
Jewish rabbinic teaching.
4. EARLY CHRISTIANITY AND POVERTY

Our final reflections for this study concern the role of wealth and poverty in the early Jesus
movement. This is a complex issue and involves many questions on which scholars have expressed
a range of opinions. What did first-century Galilean society look like? To what extent are we able
to reconstruct an image of Israelite or Galilean society during the time of Jesus and the early Jesus
movement (pre-70 ce)? Where does Jesus and his followers fit in this picture? What were Jesus
and the early Jesus movement’s attitude with respect to class, wealth, and poverty? And so on.
With the rise of social-scientific criticism in the 1960s and 1970s, many scholars have used the
methodologies of the social sciences to construct a picture of first-century Galilee.51
Some scholars have painted a very bleak picture. Poverty was rampant, and most people lived
just above sustainability levels. There was a big divide between the elites and the peasants and
slaves. Education and literacy levels were low; only the elites could read and write. Society was
very tense and rebellion always simmered below the surface. Many Jesus Research scholars have
assumed this reconstruction for their assessment of Jesus and his early followers.52
50
See Leslie Walck, “The Parables of Enoch and the Synoptic Gospels,” in Parables of Enoch: A Paradigm Shift, ed. James H.
Charlesworth and Darrell L. Bock (New York: T&T Clark, 2013), 231–68 at 258–60. Also note the connection between
the poor and the coming resurrection in the second-century bce document, the Testament of Twelve Patriarchs: “And those
who died in sorrow shall be raised in joy; And those who died in poverty for the Lord’s sake shall be made rich; Those
who died on account of the Lord shall be wakened to life” (25:4); see H. C. Kee, “Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs,” in
Apocalyptic Literature and Testaments, vol. 1 of The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, ed. James H. Charlesworth (Garden
City, NY: Doubleday, 1983), 775–828 at 802.
51
The bibliography on this topic has become immense. See Séan Freyne, Galilee, Jesus and the Gospels: Literary Approaches
and Historical Investigations (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1988); Richard A. Horsley, Archaeology, History, and Society
in Galilee: The Social Context of Jesus and the Rabbis (Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press International, 1996); Eric M. Meyers,
“Jesus in His Galilean Context,” in Archaeology and the Galilee: Texts and Contexts in the Greco-Roman and Byzantine
Periods, ed. Douglas R. Edwards and C. Thomas McCullough (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1997), 57–66; Jonathan L. Reed,
Archaeology and the Galilean Jesus: A Re-examination of the Evidence (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2000),
93–6; Bradley W. Root, First Century Galilee: A Fresh Examination of the Sources (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014); and
Häkkinen, “Poverty in the First-Century Galilee.”
52
According to Gerhard Lenski and Steven Friesen, the majority of the people living in the Roman Empire struggled to make
ends meet. For Lenski, society was marked by inequality, 80 percent of the population struggled to survive. For Friessen,
90 percent of the population had issues with sustenance and more than two-thirds suffered extreme poverty. See Gerhard
E. Lenski, Power and Privilege: A Theory of Social Stratification (North Carolina: University of North Carolina Press,
1984); and Steven J. Friesen, “Injustice or God’s Will? Early Christian Explanations of Poverty,” in Wealth and Poverty in
Early Church and Society, ed. Susan R. Holman (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2008), 17–36. Bruce Longenecker
Other scholars, however, have questioned this bleak picture. Although poverty was an issue,
most people lived relatively comfortable lives. Education and literacy were not just confined to the
elite.53
Our interpretation of Matt 5:3 would support this more positive picture of first-century Galilee
and Jesus. We have argued that the first beatitude does not teach that the poor are blessed but rather
that those who have become poor for the sake of the Gospel are blessed. In other words, it assumes
that the audience of Jesus’ sermons or the readers of the Sermon on the Mount and the Sermon
on the Plain would have had some measure of wealth or status before they became followers of
Jesus. So too, the frequent injunction by Jesus to some people to sell their possessions assumes
that they have possessions to sell. The general picture that we get of the disciples and those among
whom Jesus moved is not one of abject poverty. They had boats and houses and were able to host
dinners and guests. These details argue that many people in first-century ce Galilee did not live in
poverty, or at least that Jesus did not move in those circles. In fact, three general truths about the
development, nature, and growth of early Christianity suggest that the early Jesus movement was,
to use our modern terminology, by and large middle class.
First, we have already observed above that Christianity did not gain adherents only from
the lower classes or slaves but was popular also among the upper classes who were mobile and
influential. Perhaps the most influential follower of Jesus in the first century was Paul. He was a
Roman citizen, educated, a person of rank, and one able to hold his own in debate with opponents.
He was followed by a number of eminent thinkers over the next two centuries, including Papias,
Clement of Rome, Ignatius, Justin Martyr, Tertullian, Origen, and so on.
Second, the remarkable collection of literature that came to be known as the New Testament
demonstrates that the leading teachers and evangelists of the early Jesus movement were not
illiterate and untrained but highly educated.54 The twenty-seven documents of the New Testament
represent at least twelve different authors, not counting redactors, editors, amanuenses, and
copyists. Although the quality of the individual documents varies from author to author, and the
New Testament was not written in refined literary Greek, its authors had complete mastery of
Greek and could communicate sophisticated ideas very well. In addition to their complete mastery
of Koine Greek, the New Testament authors excelled in their subject matter reflecting in-depth
knowledge of the Hebrew Bible, Jewish traditions, and Greek culture.
Third, the remarkable speed at which early Christianity spread throughout the Roman Empire
and beyond in the first and second century assumes the existence of elaborate social networks that
were exploited for the propagation of the Gospel. It is evident that the early Christian movement
contends that only 1 percent of the population in the Roman Empire was well-off, the rest endured poverty; see Bruce W.
Longenecker, Remember the Poor: Paul, Poverty, and the Greco-Roman World (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2010), 43.
53
See Edwin Judge, The Social Pattern of the Christian Groups in the First Century: Some Prolegomena to the Study of New
Testament Ideas of Social Obligation (London: Tyndale Press, 1960); John C. H. Laughlin, “Capernaum: From Jesus’ Time
and After,” BAR 19.5 (September/October 1993), 54–61, 90; Séan Freyne, The Jesus Movement and Its Expansion: Meaning
and Mission (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2014); and Lynn H. Cohick, “Poverty and Its Causes in the Early Church,” in
Poverty in the Early Church and Today: A Conversation, ed. Steve Walton and Hannah Swithinbank (London: Bloomsbury
T&T Clark, 2019), 16–27. Also note Bradley W. Root, “there is no indication that the gospel’s authors considered poverty
to be an unusually severe problem in Jesus’ environment”; First Century Galilee: A Fresh Examination of the Sources
(Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 62.
54
The comment of the Pharisees that the disciples were illiterate and untrained (cf. ὅτι ἄνθρωποι ἀγράμματοί εἰσιν καὶ ἰδιῶται,
Acts 4:13) must of course be taken with a grain of salt.
had many well-to-do patrons who served as benefactors across the Mediterranean world and
Mesopotamia. Therefore, our detailed study of Matt 5:3 and general observations on the context
and growth of early Christianity would support the observations of James H. Charlesworth and
Mordecai Aviam, speaking about Jesus and his disciples in Galilee:
Their houses in the city were simple, but not poor. Many Galileans were farmers. Most of them
owned land, and some could read portions of the Torah … One should thus cease talking about
Galilean peasants. It would also follow that Jesus should not be portrayed as a Galilean peasant.
He was a carpenter, according to Mark (6:3). He may never have lifted a plow to work a farm.
He was certainly not uneducated or enslaved by laboring in the fields, as the definition of peasant
demands or at least implies. The Evangelists indeed report that the crowds were amazed at the
high level of Jesus’ knowledge (wisdom) and skills with language and communication.55
To conclude, according to our analysis of the Greek grammar, key terms, the literary context, the
early versions, and the milieu of the historical Jesus, the traditional translation of Matt 5:3 requires
adjustment. The beatitude does not speak about spiritual poverty but about material poverty
experienced by the early followers of Jesus in terms of economic loss, physical hardship, social
derision, and persecution they suffered for the sake of the Gospel. However, by becoming poor
they gained the richer treasure of the kingdom of heaven.
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Research.” Pages 82–99 in Jesus Research: New Methodologies and Perceptions: The Second Princeton-
Prague Symposium on Jesus Research, Princeton 2007. Edited by James H. Charlesworth with Brian Rhea.
Reed, Jonathan L. Archaeology and the Galilean Jesus: A Re-examination of the Evidence. Harrisburg,
Root, Bradley W. First Century Galilee: A Fresh Examination of the Sources. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014.
Schlatter, Adolf. Der Evangelist Matthäus: Seine Sprache, sein Ziel, seine Selbständigkeit. Stuttgart: Calwer, 1929.
Schubert, Kurt. “The Sermon on the Mount and the Qumran Texts.” Pages 118–28 in The Scrolls and the New
Testament. Edited by Krister Stendahl with James H. Charlesworth. New York: Crossroad, 1992.
The William Davidson Talmud. Translated by Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz. Digital. https://www.sefaria.org/
william-davidson-talmud.
Vermes, G. The Dead Sea Scrolls in English. 3rd ed. London: Penguin, 1990.
Walck, Leslie. “The Parables of Enoch and the Synoptic Gospels.” Pages 231–68 in Parables of Enoch: A
Paradigm Shift. Edited by James H. Charlesworth and Darrell L. Bock. New York: T&T Clark, 2013.
Wallace, Daniel B. Greek beyond the Basics: An Exegetical Syntax of the New Testament. Grand Rapids,
MI: Zondervan, 1996.
Zimmerli, W. “Die Seligpreisungen der Bergpredigt und das Alte Testament,” Pages 8–26 in Donum
gentilicium: New Testament Studies in Honour of David Daube. Edited by C. K. Barrett, E. Bammel, and
W. D. Davies. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978.
CHAPTER NINE
Christology in John’s Crucifixion

Quotations
MICHAEL A. DAISE
1. THE CRUCIFIXION QUOTATIONS, APOLOGETIC OR

THEOLOGICAL?
A key question in the Fourth Gospel’s crucifixion quotations concerns the role they play in the
passion narrative, specifically, the degree to which they serve a distinctively Johannine christology.
The quotations, themselves, consist in four references to scripture being “fulfilled” or “completed”
as Jesus hangs on the cross.1 The first appears as the crucifixion begins. Upon placing Jesus on
the cross, the soldiers performing the execution begin dividing his garments among themselves.
Discovering one of those garments to be a “seamless tunic,” they cast lots to determine whose it
will be; and all this activity, we are told, “fulfilled” Ps 22(21):19.
Therefore, the soldiers, when they crucified Jesus, took his garments and made four parts, a
part to each soldier, and the tunic. But the tunic was seamless, woven throughout from the top.
Therefore they said to one another, “Let us not tear it, but let us cast lots as to whose it will be,”
in order that the scripture might be fulfilled (ἵνα ἡ γραφὴ πληρωθῇ), which says,
“They divided my garments among themselves,
and for my clothing they cast lots.”
Therefore, the soldiers did these things.2
The second reference occurs as Jesus speaks his last words and dies. Aware that all had now been
“finished,” and either because the scripture had been “completed” or in order that it might be so
(depending on the syntax), Jesus says “I thirst.” In response, those beneath the cross3 lift a sponge
It is my privilege and delight to contribute to this volume in honor of my Doktorvater, James H. Charlesworth. His seminar
on the Fourth Gospel launched my research life into the rich world of Johannine studies, and his deep commitment to
students has accompanied me over all the years since.
1
John 19:23–37.
2
John 19:23–24. The Vorlagen from which John drew his quotations are not primarily in view in this piece. For this
quotation, however, it can be noted that John follows LXX Ps 21:19 verbatim and his rendering will be treated as drawn
from that version below—this, notwithstanding that the correspondence between LXX and MT Ps 22(21):19 has, for some,
left the question open; see C. K. Barrett, The Gospel According to St. John, 2nd ed. (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster John
Knox Press, 1978), 28; Bruce G. Schuchard, Scripture within Scripture: The Interrelationship of Form and Function in the
Explicit Old Testament Citations in the Gospel of John, SBLDS 133 (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1992), 126–7.
3
Those who give Jesus the sour wine in this quotation may have been assumed by the evangelist to be the soldiers who
divided and cast lots for his clothing in the previous one; see R. H. Lightfoot, St. John’s Gospel: A Commentary, ed. C. F.
filled with sour wine to his mouth on hyssop; and after he has received it, Jesus declares, “It is
finished,” bows his head, and “gives over the spirit.”
After this, Jesus, knowing that all things had already been finished[,]‌in order that the scripture
might be completed (ἵνα τελειωθῇ ἡ γραφή), said, “I thirst.” A jar was lying there, full of sour
wine. Therefore, wrapping a sponge full of sour wine around hyssop, they brought it to his
mouth. When, therefore, he received the sour wine, Jesus said, “It is finished”; and bowing the
head, he gave over the spirit.4
The final two references, for their part, are made in the immediate aftermath of Jesus’ death.
To facilitate the removal of the crucified men before Sabbath, the soldiers begin crurifragium,
presumably to induce a quick death by asphyxiation.5 When they find that Jesus has already expired,
they refrain, and instead pierce his side—if not to confirm, then to ensure6 or denigrate7 his passing;
and these actions, we are told once again, “fulfilled” two more sets of biblical verses. For the check
on crurifragium, it is any one or several verses that (a) require keeping the bones of the paschal
lamb intact (Exod 12:10, 46; Num 9:12) or (b) promise the same from God for the passio iusti (Pss
22:18; 34:21);8 for the piercing of his side, it is Zech 12:10.
Therefore the soldiers came and broke the legs of the first and of the other man being crucified
with him. And coming upon Jesus, as they saw him already dead, they did not break his legs; but
one of the soldiers pricked his side with a spear, and immediately blood and water came forth.
… For these things occurred in order that the scripture might be fulfilled (ἵνα ἡ γραφὴ πληρωθῇ),
“His bone shall not be broken.” And again, another scripture says, “They will look unto him
whom they pierced.”9
The question at issue stems from the connection these references have to a larger sequence of
similar “fulfillment quotations.” Beginning at John 12:38, and without peer elsewhere in the
Fourth Gospel, these quotations are likewise introduced with formulae that claim they are
Evans (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1956), 318. The more generic term “those beneath the cross,” however, allows (a) that
they are not called such here and (b) that in Matt 27:47 and Mark 15:35 they are identified as “those standing there” or “by
the side.”
4
John 19:28–30.
5
John 19:31–32.
6
George R. Beasley-Murray, John, 2nd ed., WBC 36 (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 2000), 354.
7
Suggested by Barrett, Gospel According to St. John, 556.
8
The first of these has been suggested by Edwin D. Freed, Old Testament Quotations in the Gospel of John, NovTSup 11
(Leiden: Brill, 1965), 109.
9
John 19:32–37. The portion of Zech 12:10 cited by John (v. 10b) varies significantly between its Hebrew and LXX
versions: “and they will look upon me/the one whom they pierced” (MT); “and they will look to me opposite those over
whom they danced in triumph” (LXX). John’s rendering differs from both; but amid an array of hypotheses on the tradition
history by which it came to him, it is widely recognized to be closer to the Hebrew than to the Greek. Recent reviews of the
debate can particularly be found in Adam Kubiś, The Book of Zechariah in the Gospel of John, EBib, new series 64 (Pendé,
France: J. Gabalda, 2012), 171–81; and William Randolph Bynum, The Fourth Gospel and the Scriptures: Illuminating
the Form and Meaning of Scriptural Citation in John 19:37, NovTSup 144 (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 1–5, 139–68; but also in
William Randolph Bynum, “The Quotations of Zechariah in the Fourth Gospel,” in Abiding Words: The Use of Scripture in
the Gospel of John, ed. Alicia D. Myers and Bruce G. Schuchard, RBS 81 (Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2015), 66–9; and Maarten J. J.
Menken, “The Minor Prophets in John’s Gospel,” in The Minor Prophets in the New Testament, ed. Maarten J. J. Menken
and Steve Moyise, LNTS 377 (London: T&T Clark, 2009), 86–7.
Christology in John’s Crucifixion Quotations 129
“realized” (πληρωθῇ/τελειωθῇ) by the events to which they are attached: besides those noted above
(which close the sequence), Isa 53:1 (and perhaps Isa 6:10), by the Jews’ wholesale rejection
of Jesus;10 Ps 41:10, by Judas’ betrayal;11 and Pss 35:19; 69:5; or Pss. Sol. 7:1, by the Jews’
hatred of Jesus and the Father.12 Since such references only appear as Jesus is rejected, betrayed,
and crucified—and since early tradition among Jesus’ followers was keen to defend such events
as having occurred “according to the scriptures”13—it has been surmised that these “fulfillment
quotations” (the crucifixion quotations included) reflect a pre-Johannine apologetic tradition that
was adopted by the evangelist;14 and this, in turn, has raised a query about the degree to which
they may also have been assimilated into the evangelist’s own Tendenz. That is, for the matter at
issue here, do John’s crucifixion quotations simply defend a wider Christian claim that a dying
messiah was foretold in scripture? Or do they also convey a distinctly Johannine “take” on who
10
John 12:38, 40.
11
John 13:18.
12
John 15:25. On this sequence of quotations, for instance, see Wolfgang Kraus, “Die Vollendung der Schrift nach Joh
19,28: Überlegungen zum Umgang mit der Schrift im Johannesevangelium,” in The Scriptures in the Gospels, ed. C. M.
Tuckett, BETL 131 (Leuven: Leuven University Press/Uitgeverij Peeters, 1997), 629–30. Missing or debated among these
references are John 12:40/Isa 6:10; John 17:12; and John 19:37/Zech 12:10. John 17:12 is routinely omitted because,
though its “fulfillment” formula may link the epithet “son of perdition” to LXX Prov 24:22a, LXX Isa 34:5, or LXX Isa
57:4, it may rather refer back to the quotation of Ps 41:10 at John 13:18 or to Jesus’ own words at John 6:39, 70–71; see
Wendy E. Sproston, “ ‘The Scripture’ in John 17:12,” in Scripture: Meaning and Method. Essays Presented to Anthony Tyrrell
Hanson for his Seventieth Birthday, ed. Barry P. Thompson (Hull: Hull University Press, 1987), 24–5; Freed, Old Testament
Quotations in the Gospel of John, 96–8; John J. O’Rourke, “John’s Fulfillment Texts,” ScEccl 19 (1967): 434 n.4. As for
John 12:40/Isa 6:10 and John 19:37/Zech 12:10, though they are immediately preceded by quotations which do have
“fulfillment” formulae (John 12:38; 19:36), they, themselves, are introduced differently: respectively, “for again Isaiah said”
(John 12:39); “and again, another scripture says” (John 19:37). Some read the preceding formulae to carry over into these
two and, so, include them: Barnabas Lindars, New Testament Apologetic: The Doctrinal Significance of the Old Testament
Quotations (London: SCM Press, 1961), 267–9, for instance; and Craig A. Evans, “On the Quotation Formulas in the
Fourth Gospel,” BZ 26 (1982): 80 n.2. Others do not; so Alexander Faure, “Die alttestamentlichen Zitate im 4. Evangelium
und die Quellenscheidungshypothese,” ZNW 21 (1922): 99–100, 103–5 (who ascribed them to a later editor); and D.
Moody Smith, “The Setting and Shape of a Johannine Narrative Source,” JBL 95 (1976): 237 n.25.
13
1 Cor 15:3. The relevance of the early confession at 1 Cor 15:3–8 for the “fulfillment quotations” has been noted
by Roland Bergmeier, “ΤΕΤΕΛΕΣΤΑΙ Joh 1930,” ZNW 79 (1988): 284–5. Along a different line, C. H. Dodd saw the
tradition from which these quotations emerged in the “apostolic kerygma” reflected at Acts 2:23, where Jesus is preached
as being “given up by the determined purpose and foreknowledge of God”; Historical Tradition in the Fourth Gospel
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1963), 31, 46–7.
14
See, for instance, Anton Dauer, Die Passionsgeschichte im Johannesevangelium: Eine traditionsgeschichtliche und
theologische Untersuchung zu Joh. 18, 1-19, 30, SANT 30 (München: Kösel-Verlag, 1972), 295, 297–300. The apologetic
character of these quotations seems to have been first suggested by Friedrich Smend, in his rebuttal of Alexander Faure (who
had brought them to the attention of exegetes). Faure had noticed that these references carried “a different conception”
(eine verschiedene Auffassung) or “orientation” (eine stimmungsmäßige Verschiedenheit) to the Old Testament than those
in the first half of the Gospel; from this, however, he simply inferred a second authorial hand in the writing of the work;
“Die alttestamentlichen Zitate im 4. Evangelium und die Quellenscheidungshypothese,” 99–101, 105. In refuting Faure,
Smend observed further that these quotations, in fact, appear at junctures of Jesus’ suffering and failure that could
offend Christian faith; and, in his deliberations, he mused that they perhaps cite the Old Testament “solely for apologetic
purposes” (ausschließlich zu apologetischen Zwecken); “Die Behandlung alttestamentlicher Zitate als Ausgangspunkt der
Quellenscheidung im 4. Evangelium,” ZNW 24 (1925): 149. Smend did not subscribe to this thesis: he read the purpose
clause at John 19:28c, for instance, as an anomaly to the other formulae, which (for him) undermined such a view. He did,
however, raise the prospect that these quotations were designed to “defend” Jesus’ messiahship in the face of his suffering
and death, and so, anticipated the understanding that has been widely held since. For Wilhelm Rothfuchs, in fact (who
argues to the contrary), Smend is the progenitor of such a view; Die Erfüllungszitate des Matthäus-Evangeliums: Eine
biblisch-theologische Untersuchung, BWANT, fifth series 8 (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1969), 167–8, 170.
Jesus is? For C. K. Barrett, as an example, there has been no such assimilation: they (and all the
“fulfillment quotations”) “seem to have no close relation with specifically Johannine theology”
and “therefore give a distinctly primitive air to the story.”15 For Barnabas Lindars, by contrast,
revision is significant, being manifest in the sacerdotal symbolism of Jesus’ “seamless tunic” (first
quotation),16 the gift of living water (John 4:14) suggested by Jesus’ thirst (second quotation),
the paschal soteriology signaled by the restraint from breaking Jesus’ bones (third quotation),
and the sacrificial/sacramental connotations of blood and water flowing from Jesus’ side (fourth
quotation).17 Indeed, Anthony Hanson goes so far as to suggest that the last two crucifixion
quotations, themselves, represent the evangelist’s “own discoveries,” added to the earlier, original
sequence.18
This chapter supports the latter view, the assimilation of the crucifixion quotations into the
Fourth Gospel’s Tendenz. It will propose that a pattern of fulfillment operating within these
quotations shows each to be serving the very christological motif that drives John’s passion
narrative, that Jesus “lays down” his own life by engineering the forces that kill him. The hinge
on which this turns is a modification to a premise put forward for a more detailed issue among
them: the discussion of the “scripture” being referenced in the second quotation, at John 19:28–
30. To support the case for Ps 69:22 (enacted in John 19:29), it has been noticed that the
passages cited in the crucifixion quotations are fulfilled, not knowingly by Jesus but unwittingly
by those beneath the cross. Upon closer examination this pattern can be found to include a
further facet—that these passages are also fulfilled in response to (a) unanticipated conditions
(b) prompted by Jesus as he hangs on the cross; and when this is seen to be at work in all the
crucifixion quotations, it shows Jesus to be engineering the “fulfillment” of scripture during
his crucifixion in the same way he had been engineering his betrayal, arrest, and trial up till
that point. Put another way, it shows that in the crucifixion quotations the original (apologetic)
purpose of justifying a crucified messiah has been absorbed into the (theological) Johannine
Tendenz of Jesus’ self-determined death.
The full exegetical work required for such a thesis exceeds the limits of this piece. As a start
toward that end, however, the proposal here will sketch rather than argue the point, with exegetical
choices along the way being assumed rather than worked out. Discussion will proceed in three
steps: first, the pattern of fulfillment that serves as the point of departure will be set out in light of
15
C. K. Barrett, “The Old Testament in the Fourth Gospel,” JTS 48 (1947): 168. Similar to Barrett is Moody Smith,
“Setting and Shape of a Johannine Narrative Source,” 237–8; followed by Evans, “On the Quotation Formulas in the Fourth
Gospel,” 80–3.
16
By this Lindars speaks of the christological implication drawn from the observation by Josephus that the high priest’s robe
was woven as a single piece (Ant. 3.161); noticed as early as B. F. Westcott, The Gospel According to St. John: The Authorized
Version with Introduction and Notes (1882; repr., Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1981), 275 (albeit citing the wrong chapter
in Josephus); and F. C. Conybeare, “New Testament Notes,” Expositor (fourth series) 9 (1894): 458–60.
17
Lindars, New Testament Apologetic, 267–9; and similarly, Douglas J. Moo, The Old Testament in the Gospel Passion
Narratives (Sheffield: Almond Press, 1983), 361–2.
18
Anthony Tyrrell Hanson, The Prophetic Gospel: A Study on John and the Old Testament (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1991),
251–2. More extreme still is the contention of Rothfuchs that John’s “fulfillment quotations” carry no apologetic function
at all: John’s Jesus, he argues, is not a suffering messiah who needs justification but a prescient Christ who goes to his
death deliberately (bewußt); moreover, the fulfillment of these quotations by Jesus’ unbelieving enemies (rather than by
Jesus, himself, or the Father) suggests they are better classified as “a polemic against the ‘world’ ”; Die Erfüllungszitate des
Matthäus-Evangeliums, 170–2.
the issue it addresses; second, further dynamics in that pattern will be identified and traced through
all the crucifixion quotations; and last, the christological implications of those dynamics will be
brought to bear on the issue set out above, the role of the crucifixion quotations in the Fourth
Gospel’s narrative. It will be concluded that, by virtue of the manner in which they are fulfilled,
the crucifixion quotations embody a merger of broad “catholic” apologetics with a more refined
Johannine christology.
2. A PATTERN OF FULFILLMENT
The starting point is an observation made in discussion on the “scripture” being cited at John
19:28–30; and that issue, for its part, turns on two questions raised by the clause “in order that
the scripture might be completed” (ἵνα τελειωθῇ ἡ γραφή) at v. 28c: What precisely is meant by
“scripture” (ἡ γραφή)? And to what portion of John 19:28-29 is this clause syntactically linked? It
is possible that ἡ γραφή refers to the Bible in general (not to a specific verse in it) and that, as such,
the clause modifies the noun clause before it at v. 28b.19 It may rather, however, introduce a specific
passage, and this could be along three lines, the last two of which are compatible with each other: it
may refer back in the narrative to the biblical passage cited at John 7:37-39;20 it may be any one
or more of some six passages intimated in Jesus’ cry “I thirst” at v. 28d (in which case the clause
modifies the verb “[he] said” immediately after it);21 or it may be Ps 69:22 (perhaps including Jesus’
cry),22 enacted by those beneath the cross at v. 29 (in which case, again, the clause modifies the verb
“[he] said” immediately after it). The giving of sour wine (ὄξος) in v. 29 (especially with the “thirst”
of Jesus’ cry) is reminiscent of Ps 69:22, and this allows for the “scripture” in question to be that
verse, realized as the action beneath the cross unfolds.23
19
“Jesus, knowing that (ὅτι) all things had already been finished in order that the scripture might be completed (ἵνα τελειωθῇ
ἡ γραφή) ….” Significant for this reading has been the observation by Bergmeier that the same construct appears also at John
6:15 and 13:1, that is, a purpose clause (introduced with ἵνα) modifying an immediately preceding noun clause (introduced
with ὅτι); “ΤΕΤΕΛΕΣΤΑΙ Joh 1930,” 285–6.
20
G. Bampfylde, “John xix.28: A Case for a Different Translation,” NovT 11 (1969): 250–7, 260; anticipated by Edwyn
Clement Hoskyns, The Fourth Gospel, ed. Francis Noel Davey, 2nd ed. (London: Faber & Faber, 1947), 532. Though the
reference made at John 7:37–39 is open to debate, Bampfylde identifies it as Zech 14:8.
21
Primary candidates have been psalms in which the psalmist’s “thirst” (literal or metaphorical) is stated or implied (Pss
22:16; 42:2–3; 63:2; 69:4), with a pointed case for the second (Ps 42:2-3) made by Johannes Beutler, “Psalm 42/43
im Johannesevangelium,” NTS 25 (1978–9): 54–6. Added to these have been Exod 17:3, where, in accord with John’s
exodus typology, the Israelites “thirsted” for water at Rephidim; and 2 Sam 17:29; 23:13–17, where, with a possible
biographical connection to Ps 63:2, David is described as “thirsting” (or at least craving water). On Exod 17:3, Edwin
D. Freed, “Psalm 42/43 in John’s Gospel,” NTS 29 (1983): 71; on 2 Sam 17:29; 23:13–17, Margaret Daly-Denton,
David in the Fourth Gospel: The Johannine Reception of the Psalms, AGJU 47 (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 225–7; cf. Hans-Josef
Klauck, “Geschrieben, erfüllt, vollendet: Die Schriftzitate in der Johannespassion,” in Israel und seine Heilstraditionen im
Johannesevangelium: Festgabe für Johannes Beutler S.J. zum 70. Geburtstag, ed. Michael Labahn, Klaus Scholtissek, and
Angelika Strotmann (Paderborn: Schöningh, 2004), 153 n.45; and on the debate between Freed and Beutler, Raymond E.
Brown, The Death of the Messiah: From Gethsemane to the Grave. A Commentary on the Passion Narratives in the Four
Gospels, 2 vols., ABRL (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1994), 2:1453 n.25.
22
See U. P. McCaffrey, “Psalm Quotations in the Passion Narratives of the Gospels,” Neot 14 (1980): 86.
23
These choices are complicated further by the suggestion of Raymond Brown that the purpose clause at issue here (v. 28c)
might modify both the noun clause at v. 28b and the verb introducing direct speech at v. 28d; The Gospel According to John,
2 vols., AB 29–29A (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1966/1970), 2:908.
Ps 69(68):22 John 19:28–29

They put poison in my food; After this, Jesus, knowing that all things had already been
finished, in order that the scripture might be completed,
and for my thirst (‫ולצמאי‬/εἰς τὴν δίψαν μου)
said, “I thirst (διψῶ).” A jar was lying there, full of sour wine
they gave me sour wine (‫חמץ‬/ὄξος) to drink.24 (ὄξους). Therefore, wrapping a sponge full of the sour wine
(τοῦ ὄξους) around hyssop, they brought it to his mouth.
Among arguments for the last of these options leverage has been sought from the way “the scripture”
is realized in the other three crucifixion quotations. It has been noticed by L. Theodoor Witkamp
that the biblical passages cited in each of the other crucifixion scenes are fulfilled (a) unwittingly
(b) by the soldiers beneath the cross: LXX Ps 21:19, by their dividing of and gambling for Jesus’
clothing; Exod 12:10, 46; Num 9:12; Ps 22:18; or Ps 34:21, by their restraint from breaking
Jesus’ bones; and Zech 12:10, by their piercing of Jesus’ side. If the same is expected for John
19:28–30, he argues, the scripture being “completed” must be Ps 69:22 at v. 29 and the purpose
clause at v. 28c must function as an introductory formula having that verse in view. This is the only
option for John 19:28–30 in which those beneath the cross likewise act unwittingly in accord with
a biblical passage; and so this, rather than the other three alternatives, must reflect the mind of the
evangelist.25
After a manner, this same pattern was earlier distilled by Robert Brawley, as he perceived a more
elaborate, narrative-critical dynamic at work in the quotations. In all the crucifixion scenes, he
notes, the “matrix” that “senselessness becomes significant” is worked out in a fourfold dynamic
(1) trivia (“petty detail”) is rendered significant; (2) that significance thereafter drives the story;
(3) the absurdity and profundity of the cross are mirrored in the imagery that attends each act
going on beneath it; and (4) the scriptures in each case are as resonant with “what the soldiers
who crucify (Jesus) do” as they are with the words Jesus speaks.26 The second and third of these
do not coincide directly with Witkamp’s pattern. But if those two may be bracketed here, the
first and fourth do: in Witkamp’s schema (1) significance is certainly vested in “petty detail”—the
allocation of Jesus’ garments, the giving of sour wine, the restraint from breaking his legs, and the
piercing of his side; and (4) it is this trivia, not Jesus’ logion (“I thirst”), that realizes the biblical
texts being cited.
3. THREE CHRISTOLOGICAL PROMPTS

This observation is incisive but could be expanded. Those beneath the cross do, indeed, “fulfill”
these passages unawares. But further, their actions do so under conditions (a) that are unexpected
or would not otherwise have occurred in the narrative, which, in turn, (b) have in some way been
prompted by Jesus.
24
It is recognized that the drink described as ‫חמץ‬/ὄξος in Ps 69(68):22 may not have been the same as the ὄξος which those
beneath the cross would have given Jesus in John 19:29 (often speculated to be the posca drunk by Roman soldiers). Since
that difference is not at issue here, however, the term “sour wine” is used for both loci.
25
“Jesus’ Thirst in John 19:28–30: Literal or Figurative?” JBL 115 (1996): 503—this, over against Urban C. von Wahlde,
that “the fulfillment resides in the words of Jesus rather than in the action of offering wine”; The Gospel and Letters of John,
3 vols., ECC (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2010), 3:314.
26
Robert L. Brawley, “An Absent Complement and Intertextuality in John 19:28-29,” JBL 112 (1993): 434–5.
This is most salient in the final two quotations, at John 19:36-37. The actions of the soldiers
unwittingly coincide with (and, therefore, “fulfill”) Exod 12:10, 46; Num 9:12; Ps 22:18; or Ps
34:21 as they refrain from breaking Jesus’ bones; and those actions do the same with Zech 12:10
as they pierce Jesus’ side to confirm, ensure, or degrade his death. Neither of these deeds, however,
would have been done under the natural conditions anticipated in the narrative. The soldiers engage
in crurifragium because, according to the assumption of the Jews (not to mention what is known
about crucifixion), the men being crucified were expected to live at least into the following day’s
Sabbath.27 The only reason the soldiers act the way they do toward Jesus (and thereby match the
biblical passages being cited) is because, by deciding to “give over” his “spirit” prematurely at v. 30,
Jesus created a(n unnatural and unexpected) set of conditions that made such actions possible. The
soldiers “fulfill” scripture unawares, but do so under circumstances (a) prompted by Jesus (b) which
are unanticipated and would not have occurred otherwise in the story.28
The same occurs in the first two crucifixion quotations, and it especially comes into view when
those scenes are set against their Synoptic counterparts. In the second, at John 19:28-30 (read with
Ps 69:22 as the scripture being introduced), the actions of those beneath the cross similarly coincide
with (and, therefore, “complete”) Ps 69:22—this time, by giving Jesus sour wine to drink. As the
incident is told, however, they only do so because they are prompted by Jesus’ cry “I thirst.” As
commentators have noticed, this differs sharply from the Synoptics, where those beneath the cross
give the sour wine on their own initiative: in Luke, it is the soldiers who do so, as part of their
mockery;29 in Matthew and Mark, it is an unnamed individual, who (along with others) does so
27
John 19:31–32. Supporting the peculiarity of Jesus’ quick death has been Mark 15:44a, where, if θαυμάζειν is read to
mean “marvel,” Pilate is surprised to hear he has passed: “And Pilate marveled (ἐθαύμασεν) that he had already died”;
see, for instance, J. H. Bernard, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel According to St. John, 2 vols.,
ICC (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1928), 2:643; Barnabas Lindars, The Gospel of John, NCB (Greenwood, SC: Attic Press,
1972), 585–6.
28
The peculiarity of this dynamic in John is brought into further relief by cognate and Synoptic parallel accounts of the acts
performed in these third and fourth quotations. For the third, the Gospel of Peter likewise casts those crucifying Jesus (be
they soldiers or the Jewish populace in general [Gos. Pet. §5]) as being prompted to refrain from crurifragium, but not by
Jesus—and for overtly malicious motives. They are provoked to anger at Jesus through an accusation of injustice issued by
one of the criminals being crucified alongside him (similar to Luke 23:40–41); and in response they hold back from breaking
his legs so as to exacerbate his pain: “But a certain one of those criminals reproached them, saying, ‘We have suffered thus
for the evil things we did; but this one, being the savior of the people, what wrong did he do you?’ And being angry with him
(Jesus), they commanded that his legs not be broken, so that he might die tortured” (Gos. Pet. §§ 13–14). Text for the Gospel
of Peter, Bart D. Ehrman and Zlatko Pleše, The Apocryphal Gospels: Texts and Translations (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2011).
As for the fourth quotation, the most textually viable reference to Zech 12:10 in Synoptic crucifixion scenes appears
at Luke 23:27 and furnishes a relatively remote point of comparison: an allusion to the clause following the one cited by
John (Zech 12:10c) in the description of women “mourning” Jesus in procession to the place of crucifixion: “and they
will mourn (‫וספדו‬/κόψονται) over him a mourning (‫כמספד‬/κοπετόν) as over a beloved” (Zech 12:10c); “and a great throng
was following him, and of women who were mourning (ἐκόπτοντο) and wailing over him” (Luke 23:27). More apt is the
attestation in several manuscripts at Matt 27:49 that casts one of those standing beneath the cross as piercing Jesus’ side
while he is still alive, just after (and over against) the bid of others to pause from giving him sour wine, so as to see if Elijah
would answer his “cry of dereliction”: “but another, taking a spear, pricked his side, and water and blood (or blood and
water [Γ]) came forth” (‫ א‬B C L Γ). The reading is likely “an early intrusion derived” from John 19:34 (Bruce M. Metzger,
A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament, 2nd ed. [Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft/United Bible Societies,
1994], 59), but if taken as a peer witness nonetheless, it differs from John by depicting this act as the cause of Jesus’ death,
rather than an effect prompted by it.
29
Luke 23:36.
out of a mistaken notion that Jesus’ “cry of dereliction” is a call for Elijah.30 Here, however, the
narrative seems to assume that those beneath the cross would not have so acted had Jesus not first
articulated his thirst; and so, again, those figures “complete” scripture unwittingly, and do so as
they are (a) prompted by Jesus (b) into a circumstance (the need to answer his cry of “thirst”) that
would not otherwise have occurred in the story.31
As for the first quotation, at John 19:23-24, the differential between John’s reading of the
cited scripture (LXX Ps 21:19) and that of the Synoptics has, in fact, been central to exegetical
discussion. The variance turns on two factors: the clothing Jesus is described to have and the
rendering of the verbs in the two cola of the psalm verse. In the Synoptic Gospels Jesus’ clothing
is only identified with one term, “his garments” (τὰ ἱμάτια αὐτοῦ); and, except for the third-person
genitive pronoun (αὐτοῦ for μου), this term matches the one used for clothing in LXX Ps 21:19a.
Moreover, the first three words of the first colon of the psalm are conflated with the last two words
of the second colon, with either the finite verb from the second colon (Matthew, Mark) or the finite
verb from the first colon (Luke) being changed to a participle. If, then, those participles are taken
with instrumental or final force, the action from one colon is cast as the means or purpose for doing
the action of the other colon; and this has (rightly) been understood to reflect Synoptic sensitivity
to Semitic parallelismus membrorum:
LXX Psalm 21:19
διεμερίσαντο τὰ ἱματιά μου ἑαυτοῖς
καὶ ἐπὶ τὸν ἱματισμόν μου ἔβαλον κλῆρον.
They divided my garments among themselves,
and for my clothing they cast lots.
Matthew 27:35
And having crucified him,
“they divided his garments by casting lots … (διεμερίσαντο τὰ ἱμάτια αὐτοῦ βάλλοντες κλῆρον)”
Mark 15:24
And they were crucifying him and “were dividing his garments by casting lots for them
(διαμερίζονται τὰ ἱμάτια αὐτοῦ βάλλοντες κλῆρον ἐπ’ αὐτά),” as to who would take what.
Luke 23:34
And “to divide his garments they cast lots (διαμεριζόμενοι δὲ τὰ ἱμάτια αὐτοῦ ἔβαλον κλήρους).”32
30
Matt 27:46–48; Mark 15:34–36; cf. the “cry of dereliction” (Ps 22:2).
31
In the Gospel of Peter, as with some variants to John 19:29 [Θ f13 892], this action is conflated with the giving of wine
(οἶνος) with gall (χολή) in Matt 27:34 (even as in some variants to Matt 27:34 [A N W Γ Δ 0281 565 579 700 892 1241
1424 and the Majority text] the giving of wine and gall is conflated with the giving of “sour wine” [ὄξος] in John 19:29).
Moreover, the act is performed before Jesus’ “cry of dereliction” (not after, as in Matthew and Mark) and is said to have
both “fulfilled all things” and “completed the sins” of the people “upon their head” (Gos. Pet. §§ 16–17, 19); see Bernard,
Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel According to St. John, 2:639–40; Brown, The Gospel According to John,
2:909. As in Matthew and Mark, however, this deed is done at the urging of one of those crucifying Jesus (not by any
prompt issued by Jesus) and, as such, casts the Johannine pattern being observed here further into relief: “And a certain one
among them said, ‘Give him gall with sour wine (χολὴν μετὰ ὄξους) to drink.’ And mixing them, they gave him to drink.”
32
Sensitivity to the parallelism in LXX Ps 21:19 obtains even if the extended variant at Matt 27:35 is taken into account.
In it the modified rendering of the verse (set out above) is immediately followed by (a) a Matthean-like fulfillment formula
and, with some variation among the witnesses, (b) a verbatim quotation of the entirety of the LXX verse: “they divided his
garments by casting lots, in order that what was spoken through the prophet might be fulfilled, ‘They divided my garments
among themselves, and for my clothing they cast lots’ ” (Δ Θ 0250 f1 f13 1424 lectionary 844; see Schuchard, Scripture
In John, by contrast, are three differences. First, Jesus’ clothing is twofold: “his garments” (τὰ
ἱμάτια αὐτοῦ) and the “seamless tunic” (ὁ χιτὼν ἄραφος). Second, those two parts are allocated by
the soldiers in two distinct ways: for “his garments” they “made four parts” (ἐποίησαν τέσσαρα
μέρη); for the tunic they pause to deliberate, then decide not to “tear” it but to “cast lots (λάχωμεν)
as to whose it will be.” And third, the psalm is cited in full and verbatim (not conflated or modified),
with the “fulfillment” of the verbs in each colon corresponding to the two methods the soldiers use
to allocate each piece of Jesus’ clothing: the “dividing” (διεμερίσαντο) of LXX Ps 21:19a with their
making four piles of his garments; the “casting lots” (ἔβαλον κλῆρον) of v. 19b with their casting
lots for his tunic.33
LXX Ps 21:19 John 19:23–24

They divided my garments among Making four parts of his garments.
themselves,
and for my clothing they cast lots. Casting lots for his seamless tunic.
In exegetical discussion on this passage these distinctive features have been explored along two
major avenues: the “seamless tunic,” for the symbolism it may carry;34 the correlation between the
soldiers’ allocation of Jesus’ clothes and the psalm’s cola, for its hermeneutical legitimacy at the
within Scripture, 126 n.3). The UBSGNT committee deems this a copyist’s insertion, influenced by John 19:24; Metzger,
Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament, 57. Even if it is original, however—omitted in other manuscripts by
homoeoteleuton from the repeated κλῆρον (as the committee also allows)—or if it is considered a legitimate witness in itself
(regardless of its editorial provenance), it does not change the Matthean interpretation of the psalm, due to the conflated
paraphrase that precedes it. By identifying all of Jesus’ clothes with one term (τὰ ἱμάτια αὐτοῦ) and by changing the second
verb into a participle (βάλλοντες), it indicates that both cola of the verse are taken to describe a single process.
33
John’s reading of the verse is routinely compared with Matthew’s attempt to account for the parallelism in Zech 9:9ef by
having Jesus secure both a donkey and a foal for his ride into Jerusalem (Matt 21:1–7); Rudolf Bultmann, The Gospel of
John: A Commentary, trans. G. R. Beasley-Murray, R. W. N. Hoare and J. K. Riches (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster John
Knox Press, 1971), 670 n.8; trans. of Das Evangelium des Johannes: Ergänzungsheft, KEK 2 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck &
Ruprecht, 1964); Rudolf Schnackenburg, The Gospel According to St John, trans. Kevin Smyth, Cecily Hastings, Francis
McDonagh, David Smith, Richard Foley, and G.A. Kon, 3 vols. (New York: Crossroad, 1990), 3:273–74; trans. of Das
Johannesevangelium, HThKNT 4 (Freiburg: Herder, 1965–75); Brown, Gospel According to John, 2:920; von Wahlde,
Gospel and Letters of John, 2:804. Pertinent here perhaps is the observation that John’s addition of a singular “tunic”
(ὁ χιτών) to his plural “garments” (τὰ ἱμάτια) was likely facilitated by LXX Ps 21:19 itself: where the first colon describes the
psalmist’s clothing with the plural “garments” (τὰ ἱμάτια), the second does so with the singular “clothing” (τὸν ἱματισμόν); see
Hoskyns, Fourth Gospel, 529; cf. Selva Rathinam, SJ, “The Old Testament in John’s Passion Narrative,” Vid 66 (2002): 410.
Inasmuch as the second term was likely “intended as collective,” however, this does not exonerate the evangelist from
artificially applying the verse to his pericope; see Lindars, Gospel of John, 578.
34
The search for symbolism in the tunic has garnered an array of hypotheses, among them the (untorn) curtain in the new
sanctuary of Jesus’ body (John 2:19–21; cf. Mark 15:38); divine protection amid degradation; Adam or Moses typology;
and the garment made by Jacob for Joseph (Gen 37:3, 23). Foremost, however, have been its connotations for the high
priesthood of Jesus and for the unity of believers—among themselves and with Christ, as articulated, for instance, in John
10:15–16; 11:51–52; 17:20–23. Key for the first has been the aforementioned note by Josephus on the “seamlessness” of
the high priest’s garment (see note 16); key for the second have been the ecclesiastical reading of Jesus’ tunic by Cyprian
(Unit. eccl. 7) and the cosmological significance given the high priest’s garment by Philo Judaeus (Fug. 110–12; Spec. 1.84–
96; Mos. 2.117–35; cf. Lev 21:10)—see Bultmann, Gospel of John, 671 n.2; Brown, Gospel According to John, 2:920–22;
Schnackenburg, Gospel According to St John, 3:274; and the review by David E. Garland, “The Fulfillment Quotations in
John’s Account of the Crucifixion,” in Perspectives on John: Method and Interpretation in the Fourth Gospel, ed. Robert B.
Sloan and Mikeal C. Parsons, National Association of Baptist Professors of Religion Special Studies Series 11 (Lewiston,
NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 1993), 236–9.
time of writing,35 as well as for the window it may furnish into the Fourth Gospel’s composition
history.36 Without disparaging either, it is proposed here that also at work is the dynamic just traced
in the other three crucifixion quotations: that the soldiers “fulfill” LXX Ps 21:19 under otherwise
unexpected conditions that have been prompted by Jesus. If looked at on the assumption of John’s
(wooden) reading of the psalm (in which “dividing” and “casting lots” are two different processes),
the soldiers initially would only have “fulfilled” its first colon. They would have “divided his
garments” (LXX Ps 21:19a) by “making four piles” but would not otherwise have had occasion to
“cast lots for his clothing” (v. 19b). The only reason they do fulfill that second colon is that an item
of Jesus’ apparel effects unanticipated conditions for acting in accord with it: whether due to its
“seamlessness”37 or its number (as a fifth item for a quaternion),38 Jesus’ tunic creates a(n otherwise
unforeseen) need to “cast lots” for his clothing alongside the process of “dividing” them. Indeed,
the unexpected nature of the circumstance caused by the tunic is underscored by the narrative
pause in which the soldiers stop to deliberate over it. Whereas with the rest of Jesus’ garments the
soldiers make four piles as a matter of course (with no need to organize their actions), with the
tunic they come across something for which they had no protocol and, therefore, must devise one
ad hoc: “But the tunic was seamless, woven throughout from the top. Therefore they said to one
another, ‘Let us not tear it, but let us cast lots as to whose it will be,’ in order that the scripture
might be fulfilled.”39
35
On this matter, for instance, Barrett speculated that “Hebrew parallelism was little if at all understood at this time,” while
Menken has sought to show that taking parallel cola to indicate different referents “was considered as legitimate in early
Judaism and early Christianity” and employed elsewhere by John (e.g., John 12:38–40/Isa 53:1; 6:10) when such discrete
referents “suited his narrative”; Barrett, Gospel According to St. John, 550–1; Maarten J. J. Menken, “The Use of the
Septuagint in Three Quotations in John: Jn 10,34; 12,38; 19,24,” in The Scriptures in the Gospels, ed. C. M. Tuckett, BETL
131 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1997), 386–92; cf. 382–3.
36
Dodd and Schnackenburg, for instance, took the verbatim rendering of LXX Ps 21:19 (Dodd) and the stilted interpretation
it is given (Schnackenburg) to reflect the tradition from which John drew; Dodd, Historical Tradition in the Fourth Gospel,
40–1, 122–3; Schnackenburg, Gospel According to St John, 3:272. Brown ascribed the greater detail in John’s story to his
source, while Bernard saw it (along with its meticulous correlation to the psalm’s cola) as signaling “the fuller testimony
of an eye-witness”; Brown, Gospel According to John, 2:920; Bernard, Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel
According to St. John, 2:629. And, together with a similar “flawed understanding” elsewhere in the narrative (John 4:44;
12:3–8), von Wahlde considers the misconstrued parallelism to betray a third hand in the gospel’s writing; Gospel and
Letters of John, 2:804, 809–10; cf. 202–3, 532–6.
37
Schnackenburg, Gospel According to St John, 3:273; von Wahlde, Gospel and Letters of John, 2:804.
38
Leon Morris, The Gospel According to John: The English Text with Introduction, Exposition and Notes, NICNT (Grand
Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1971), 808 n.53.
39
In the Gospel of Peter the language for this incident at once resembles and differs from both John and the Synoptics. Like
the Synoptics (but unlike John), Jesus’ clothing is only identified with one term, “the garments” (τὰ ἐνδύματα); like John
(but unlike the Synoptics), however, the verbs from each of the psalm’s cola are retained in their finite forms: “divided”
(διεμερίσαντο) and “cast (ἔβαλον) lots.” As for the way it reads the psalm, its syntax allows two procedures by which the
soldiers allocate these garments, depending on the grammatical role of the καί that divides the two verbs. If it is epexegetic,
the two verbs (as in the Synoptics) represent two ways of speaking about a single action—that is, as in the Synoptics,
the psalm’s parallelism is carried over: “and laying the garments (τὰ ἐνδύματα) in front of him (Jesus), they divided
(διεμερίσαντο), that is (καί), they cast (ἔβαλον) lots for them” (for the καί as epexegetic, see Menken, “Use of the Septuagint
in Three Quotations in John,” 388, 388 n.65). If the καί is conjunctive, however, the two verbs represent two discrete steps
in a twofold process—and, like John, the parallelism is taken woodenly: “and laying the garments (τὰ ἐνδύματα) in front of
him (Jesus), they divided (διεμερίσαντο) and (καί) cast (ἔβαλον) lots for them” (Gos. Pet. §12). For the point at issue here,
in both cases the soldiers enact Ps 69:22 on their own initiative and so, as in the Synoptics, furnish a foil to the prompt of
Jesus’ tunic in John.
In short, as the soldiers would soon do again by giving Jesus sour wine, refraining from breaking
his legs and piercing his side, so here: they unwittingly take actions that coincide with the scripture
being cited, and they do so under conditions (a) prompted by (something associated with) Jesus
on the cross (b) that are otherwise unexpected (or would not have occurred) in the course of the
story. Indeed, the perception of such christocentric prompting in the crucifixion quotations seems
to have been latent in the thoughts of Rudolf Schnackenburg on the source behind the third one
(at John 19:36):
Taking account of the content, its object is to describe special features connected with the person
of Jesus. If, in the case of the sharing of the garments, it was Jesus’ seamless tunic which the
soldiers did not want to tear, so now it is that he is already dead, which keeps them from
breaking his legs.40
4. THE CRUCIFIXION QUOTATIONS AND JOHN’S

PASSION CHRISTOLOGY
At the very least, such a pattern reinforces the case for Ps 69:22 as the “scripture” being “completed”
in John 19:28-30. When applied to the role of all John’s crucifixion quotations, however, it also
suggests that their original apologetic purpose has been co-opted into John’s christology, particularly,
the christological motif that perhaps most drives his passion narrative: that Jesus controls the very
forces that bring about his death. That idea is epitomized in Jesus’ Good Shepherd assertion that
“no one takes” his life, but that he “lays it down of (his) own accord.”41 And it is worked out in
John’s farewell discourse and passion narrative as Jesus declares he will “drink the cup” his Father
had given him42 and acts to facilitate each step of his demise. Having chosen Judas to begin with,43
he initiates his betrayal,44 commands him to proceed “quickly,”45 then deliberately locates himself in
the garden with which he (Judas) was familiar.46 When arrested, he interrogates the detachment that
40
Schnackenburg, Gospel According to St John, 3:288–89. Drawing on the possible symbolism attached to various elements
in the crucifixion scenes, Garland proffers a similar pattern, in which the soldiers’ actions create irony by evoking “a
revelatory scene.” If the seamless tunic connotes a high priestly status, if Jesus’ thirst is taken against his earlier offers to
furnish “living water” (John 4:7-14; 7:37-39), and if the blood and water which flow from Jesus’ side signal “the fountain
of water and blood that gives life to believers,” then in each case, Garland suggests, Jesus’ “humanity and degradation”
serve as a counterpoint to his salvific mission; “Fulfillment Quotations in John’s Account of the Crucifixion,” 250 n.73. The
proposal here does not deny such a dynamic, but contends that christological import for these passages attends the literal
meaning of these elements—as advocated strongly, for instance, by Bernard, Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the
Gospel According to St. John, 2:630, 639, 647–8. And this also entails reading the “giving over” of Jesus’ “spirit” at John
19:30 as referring to his physical death, regardless of whether it may also have the “giving” of the “Holy Spirit” in view: the
beginnings of this latter idea are traced to Hoskyns, Fourth Gospel, 532; for reviews of the discussion (together with their
own theses), see David Crump, “Who Gets What?: God or Disciples, Human Spirit or Holy Spirit in John 19:30,” NovT
51 (2009): 78–89; and Peter-Ben Smit, “The Gift of the Spirit in John 19:30? A Reconsideration of παρέδωκεν τὸ πνεῦμα,”
CBQ 78 (2016): 447–62.
41
John 10:18.
42
John 18:11.
43
John 13:18; cf. 6:70–71.
44
John 13:26–27.
45
John 13:27.
46
John 18:1–2.
has come to take him,47 sends them to the ground when he identifies himself,48 commands them to
let his disciples go free,49 then exposes the illegitimacy of his trial before Annas.50 And upon being
convicted, he carries his own cross to Golgotha,51 assigns the care of his mother to his beloved
disciple,52 declares, “It is finished,” and finally, by his own decision, “gives over the spirit” and dies.53
At first blush this motif appears to run alongside (but independently of) the sequence of “fulfillment
quotations”; that is, in chs. 13–19 John’s portrayal of Jesus as “sovereign of his fate”54 seems to unfold
concurrently with (but separate from) the quotations’ “defense” of that fate as having occurred
“according to the scriptures.” If, while he hangs on the cross, however, Jesus’ “seamless tunic,” his
cry of “thirst,” and his “giving over” of the “spirit” serve as prompts to manipulate his handlers
beneath him into realizing those “scriptures,” these christological and apologetic threads seem to
relate more intimately. At this juncture, in fact, they appear to be interwoven. The “fulfillment” of
the passages cited in the crucifixion scenes is now, itself, an effect of Jesus’ self-engineered death;
and this, in turn, suggests that any apologetic purpose those passages once had in prior tradition
has been absorbed into the evangelist’s own Tendenz. Such a fusion does not eclipse the apologetic
aspect of these quotations: they still speak of a man stripped naked, begging for drink, whose bones
and flesh (when his body becomes a corpse) lie under the control of indifferent sentries; and, as
such, they labor to reconcile such humiliation with a claim that this man is “Christ.” The melding
does, however, add a theologically Johannine dimension to these loci. They now not only defend a
messiah who must suffer. They proclaim one who did so at his own behest.
5. CONCLUSION
As noted above, this proposal is no more than that. It rests on exegetical choices within highly
contested issues that, in turn, require more detailed attention than could be given here.55
47
John 18:4.
48
John 18:5–6.
49
John 18:7–9.
50
John 18:19–24.
51
John 19:17—this, over against the Synoptics (Matt 27:32; Mark 15:21; Luke 23:26), where the cross is carried for him.
52
John 19:25–27.
53
John 19:30. Most recently this motif has been framed by Jörg Frey within a conception of Jesus’ passion as a “noble death”;
The Glory of the Crucified One: Christology and Theology in the Gospel of John, trans. Wayne Coppins and Christoph
Heilig, Baylor-Mohr Siebeck Studies in Early Christianity (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2018), 179–80; trans. of Die
Herrlichkeit des Gekreuzigten: Studien zu den Johanneischen Schriften I, ed. Juliane Schlegel, WUNT 307 (Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 2013).
54
Frey, Glory of the Crucified One, 179.
55
One issue requiring further exploration is the degree to which Jesus was aware of any prompting from the cross. Such
awareness certainly marks his maneuvering through the passion narrative. As his suffering unfolds, he is altogether cognizant
of the metaphysical and social currents at work: that he had come from the Father, and that the hour had come for him to
pass from this world back to that Father (John 13:1, 3; 17:1, 11, 13); that he was about to prepare a place for his disciples
(John 14:2), and that, as such, he would only be with them a little while longer and they would not be able to follow (John
13:33, 36; 14:19; 16:16, 19–22); that among those disciples was his betrayer and that, by acting the way he did toward
Jesus, that figure had already perished (John 13:10–11, 18, 21; 17:12); that “the ruler of this world” was coming for him
and that, like his betrayer, that figure, too, had already been judged (John 14:30; 16:11); that his arrest, trial, and execution
were “coming upon him” (John 18:4) but that the Father had given all things into his hands (John 13:3); that Peter would
deny him, and his disciples abandon him (John 13:38 [cf. 18:15–18, 25–27]; 16:31–32); and, finally, that his kingdom was
“not of this world” (John 18:36), that Pilate’s power over him had been delegated from above (John 19:11), and that, upon
To the extent it can be further established, however, it reinforces Ps 69:22 as the scripture
“completed” before Jesus’ last words and, more importantly, shows the apologetic purpose of
the crucifixion quotations to have been integrated into the kerygmatic purpose of the Fourth
Gospel’s christology.
6. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Commentaries
Barrett, C. K. The Gospel According to St. John. 2nd ed. Philadelphia, PA: Westminster John Knox Press, 1978.
Beasley-Murray, George R. John. 2nd ed. WBC 36. Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 2000.
Bernard, J. H. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel According to St. John. 2 vols. ICC.
Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1928.
Brown, Raymond E. The Gospel According to John. 2 vols. AB 29–29A. Garden City, NY: Doubleday,
1966/1970.
Bultmann, Rudolf. The Gospel of John: A Commentary. Translated by G. R. Beasley–Murray, R. W. N. Hoare,
and J. K. Riches. Philadelphia, PA: Westminster John Knox Press, 1971. Translation of Das Evangelium des
Johannes: Ergänzungsheft. KEK 2. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1964.
Hoskyns, Edwyn Clement. The Fourth Gospel. Edited by Francis Noel Davey. 2nd ed. London: Faber &
Faber, 1947.
Lightfoot, R. H. St. John’s Gospel: A Commentary. Edited by C. F. Evans. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1956.
Lindars, Barnabas. The Gospel of John. NCB. Greenwood, SC: Attic Press, 1972.
Morris, Leon. The Gospel According to John: The English Text with Introduction, Exposition and Notes. Rev.
ed. NICNT. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995.
Schnackenburg, Rudolf. The Gospel According to St John. Translated by Kevin Smyth, Cecily Hastings, Francis
McDonagh, David Smith, Richard Foley, and G. A. Kon. 3 vols. New York: Crossroad, 1990. Translation
of Das Johannesevangelium. HThKNT 4. Freiburg: Herder, 1965–75.
Wahlde, Urban C. von. The Gospel and Letters of John. 3 vols. ECC. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2010.
Westcott, B. F. The Gospel According to St. John: The Authorized Version with Introduction and Notes. 1882.
Repr., Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1981.
Secondary Literature
Bampfylde, G. “John xix.28: A Case for a Different Translation.” NovT 11 (1969): 247–60.
Barrett, C. K. “The Old Testament in the Fourth Gospel.” JTS 48 (1947): 155–69.
Bergmeier, Roland. “ΤΕΤΕΛΕΣΤΑΙ Joh 1930.” ZNW 79 (1988): 282–90.
Beutler, Johannes. “Psalm 42/43 im Johannesevangelium.” NTS 25 (1978–9): 33–57.
Brawley, Robert L. “An Absent Complement and Intertextuality in John 19:28–29.” JBL 112 (1993): 427–43.
Brown, Raymond E. The Death of the Messiah: From Gethsemane to the Grave. A Commentary on
the Passion Narratives in the Four Gospels. 2 vols. Anchor Bible Reference Library. Garden City,
Bynum, William Randolph. The Fourth Gospel and the Scriptures: Illuminating the Form and Meaning of
Scriptural Citation in John 19:37. NovTSup 144. Leiden: Brill, 2012.
putting his mother under the care of the beloved disciple, “all things” had been “finished” (John 19:28–30). Can the same
be said, however, for his knowledge of the effects that his “prompts” would be having on those beneath the cross during his
crucifixion?
Bynum, William Randolph. “The Quotations of Zechariah in the Fourth Gospel.” Pages 47–74 in Abiding
Words: The Use of Scripture in the Gospel of John. Edited by Alicia D. Myers and Bruce G. Schuchard. RBS
81. Atlanta, GA: SBL Press, 2015.
Conybeare, F. C. “New Testament Notes.” Expositor (fourth series) 9 (1894): 451–62.
Crump, David. “Who Gets What? God or Disciples, Human Spirit or Holy Spirit in John 19:30.” NovT 51
(2009): 78–89.
Daly-Denton, Margaret. David in the Fourth Gospel: The Johannine Reception of the Psalms. AGJU 47.
Dauer, Anton. Die Passionsgeschichte im Johannesevangelium: Eine traditionsgeschichtliche und theologische
Untersuchung zu Joh. 18, 1–19, 30. SANT 30. München: Kösel-Verlag, 1972.
Dodd, C. H. Historical Tradition in the Fourth Gospel. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1963.
Ehrman, Bart D., and Zlatko Pleše. The Apocryphal Gospels: Texts and Translations. Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2011.
Evans, Craig A. “On the Quotation Formulas in the Fourth Gospel.” BZ 26 (1982): 79–83.
Faure, Alexander. “Die alttestamentlichen Zitate im 4. Evangelium und die Quellenscheidungshypothese.”
ZNW 21 (1922): 99–121.
Freed, Edwin D. Old Testament Quotations in the Gospel of John. NovTSup 11. Leiden: Brill, 1965.
Freed, Edwin D. “Psalm 42/43 in John’s Gospel.” NTS 29 (1983): 62–73.
Frey, Jörg. The Glory of the Crucified One: Christology and Theology in the Gospel of John. Translated by
Wayne Coppins and Christoph Heilig. Baylor-Mohr Siebeck Studies in Early Christianity. Waco, TX: Baylor
University Press, 2018. Translation of Die Herrlichkeit des Gekreuzigten: Studien zu den Johanneischen
Schriften I. Edited by Juliane Schlegel. WUNT 307. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013.
Garland, David E. “The Fulfillment Quotations in John’s Account of the Crucifixion.” Pages 229–50 in
Perspectives on John: Method and Interpretation in the Fourth Gospel. Edited by Robert B. Sloan and Mikeal
C. Parsons. National Association of Baptist Professors of Religion Special Studies Series 11. Lewiston,
NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 1993.
Hanson, Anthony Tyrrell. The Prophetic Gospel: A Study on John and the Old Testament. Edinburgh: T&T
Clark, 1991.
Klauck, Hans-Josef. “Geschrieben, erfüllt, vollendet: Die Schriftzitate in der Johannespassion.” Pages
140–57 in Israel und seine Heilstraditionen im Johannesevangelium: Festgabe für Johannes Beutler
S.J. zum 70. Geburtstag. Edited by Michael Labahn, Klaus Scholtissek, and Angelika Strotmann.
Paderborn: Schöningh, 2004.
Kraus, Wolfgang. “Die Vollendung der Schrift nach Joh 19,28: Überlegungen zum Umgang mit der Schrift im
Johannesevangelium.” Pages 629–36 in The Scriptures in the Gospels. Edited by C. M. Tuckett. BETL 131.
Leuven: Leuven University Press/Uitgeverij Peeters, 1997.
Kubiś, Adam. The Book of Zechariah in the Gospel of John. EBib, New series 64. Pendé, France: J.
Gabalda, 2012.
Lindars, Barnabas. New Testament Apologetic: The Doctrinal Significance of the Old Testament Quotations.
London: SCM Press, 1961.
McCaffrey, U. P. “Psalm Quotations in the Passion Narratives of the Gospels.” Neot 14 (1980): 73–89.
Menken, Maarten J. J. “The Minor Prophets in John’s Gospel.” Pages 79–96 in The Minor Prophets in the New
Testament. Edited by Maarten J. J. Menken and Steve Moyise. LNTS 377. London: T&T Clark, 2009.
Menken, Maarten J. J. “The Use of the Septuagint in Three Quotations in John: Jn 10,34; 12,38; 19,24.”
Pages 367–93 in The Scriptures in the Gospels. Edited by C. M. Tuckett. BETL 131. Leuven: Leuven
Metzger, Bruce M. A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament. 2nd ed. Stuttgart: Deutsche
Bibelgesellschaft/United Bible Societies, 1994.
Moo, Douglas J. The Old Testament in the Gospel Passion Narratives. Sheffield: Almond Press, 1983.
O’Rourke, John J. “John’s Fulfillment Texts.” ScEccl 19 (1967): 433–43.
Rathinam, Selva, SJ. “The Old Testament in John’s Passion Narrative.” Vid 66 (2002): 405–18.
Rothfuchs, Wilhelm. Die Erfüllungszitate des Matthäus-Evangeliums: Eine biblisch-theologische Untersuchung.
BWANT, fifth series 8. Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1969.
Schuchard, Bruce G. Scripture within Scripture: The Interrelationship of Form and Function in the Explicit Old
Testament Citations in the Gospel of John. SBLDS 133. Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1992.
Smend, Friedrich. “Die Behandlung alttestamentlicher Zitate als Ausgangspunkt der Quellenscheidung im
4. Evangelium.” ZNW 24 (1925): 147–50.
Smit, Peter-Ben. “The Gift of the Spirit in John 19:30? A Reconsideration of παρέδωκεν τὸ πνεῦμα.” CBQ 78
(2016): 447–62.
Smith, D. Moody. “The Setting and Shape of a Johannine Narrative Source.” JBL 95 (1976): 231–41.
Sproston, Wendy E. “ ‘The Scripture’ in John 17:12.” Pages 24–36 in Scripture: Meaning and Method. Essays
Presented to Anthony Tyrrell Hanson for His Seventieth Birthday. Edited by Barry P. Thompson. Hull: Hull
Witkamp, Leonard Theodoor. “Jesus’ Thirst in John 19:28–30: Literal or Figurative”? JBL 115 (1996): 489–510.
CHAPTER TEN
Touching the Risen Jesus: Did

Jesus Allow Thomas to Do What
He Refused to Mary?
LIDIJA NOVAKOVIC
Jesus’ appearance to Mary Magdalene (John 20:11-18) is frequently contrasted with his appearance
to Thomas (John 20:24-29) because, as Sandra Schneiders puts it, “the risen Jesus prohibits Mary
Magdalene from touching him,” whereas “he invites, even commands, Thomas the Twin to touch
him.”1 To use a contemporary analogy from the coronavirus pandemic, the risen Jesus seems to
practice social distancing from Mary but not from Thomas. This contrast is especially pronounced
in the Latin translation of Jesus’ prohibition to Mary, “Noli me tangere,” and its reception in
Christian literature and the visual arts.2 For example, Ambrose reasons that Jesus did not allow
Mary to touch him because she was less perfect than Jesus’ male disciples; hence, Jesus invited
her to make spiritual progress by learning from the brothers, who had been given the privilege of
experiencing the resurrection.3 In medieval art, Jesus is frequently portrayed as either withdrawing
from Mary’s touch or preventing her from touching him. By the same token, women were not
allowed to touch the body of the Lord through the administration of the sacraments, the reading of
the gospels, or the handling of sacred objects.4
The most common objection to this view is that in the Greek text, Jesus’ command to Mary, μή
μου ἅπτου, which involves the negated present imperative of ἅπτω, prohibits the continuation of
an action that has already started.5 In that case, the difference between Mary and Thomas is not
1
In this essay, I wish to honor James H. Charlesworth’s legacy in Johannine studies by revisiting the roles of Mary Magdalene
and Thomas in the Johannine resurrection narrative.
Sandra M. Schneiders, “Touching the Risen Jesus: Mary Magdalene and Thomas the Twin in John 20,” in The Resurrection of
Jesus in the Gospel of John, ed. Craig R. Koester and Reimund Bieringer, WUNT 222 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 154.
2
See various essays on this subject in Reimund Bieringer, Karlijn Demasure, and Barbara Baert, eds., To Touch or Not to
Touch? Interdisciplinary Perspectives on the Noli me tangere, ANL 67 (Leuven: Peeters, 2013).
3
Ambrose, Exp. Luc. 10.164–65.
4
Esther A. de Boer, “The Interpretation of John 20:17 in Early Christian Writings: Why Is Noli me tangere Absent in
‘Apocryphal’ Literature?” in To Touch or Not to Touch? Interdisciplinary Perspectives on the Noli me tangere, ed. Reimund
Bieringer, Karlijn Demasure, and Barbara Baert, ANL 67 (Leuven: Peeters, 2013), 99.
5
Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According to John, 2 vols., AB 29–29A (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1966–70), 2:992;
C. K. Barrett, The Gospel According to St. John: An Introduction with Commentary and Notes on the Greek Text, 2nd ed.
(Philadelphia, PA: Westminster John Knox Press, 1978), 565–6; Rudolf Schnackenburg, The Gospel According to St. John,
trans. Kevin Smyth et al., 3 vols. (New York: Crossroad, 1968, 1980, 1982), 3:318; Charles H. Talbert, Reading John: A
that the physical touch was forbidden to Mary and permitted to Thomas. Rather, as I will argue in
this essay, the difference between Mary and Thomas lies in the distinctive theological functions of
their respective actions. Jesus interrupts Mary’s physical contact, however defined, because her act
interferes with his movement toward the Father. The invitation to Thomas to touch the marks of
Jesus’ crucifixion, conversely, serves to establish the identity of the Risen One as the Crucified One,
with the focus on those who have come to this conviction without having seen Jesus. Within the
literary context of John 20, each act serves as a didactic tool, teaching the audience how to respond
to Jesus’ resurrection in the time of Jesus’ bodily absence.
1. MARY MAGDALENE’S ENCOUNTER WITH THE RISEN JESUS

In the Fourth Gospel, the risen Jesus appears to Mary Magdalene after her brief conversation with
two angels, whom she saw sitting in the tomb from which Jesus’ body disappeared (John 20:11-
13). Unlike the angelic figures in the synoptic Gospels (Mark 16:1–8; Matt 28:1-7; Luke 24:1-
12), the angels in John do not remove the ambiguity of the empty tomb. They only inquire about
the cause of Mary’s weeping, providing no information about the whereabouts of Jesus’ body, a
problem that so occupied Mary’s mind since her discovery of the bodiless tomb (John 20:2) that
she had to repeat it to the angels: “They have taken my Lord, and I do not know where they have
put him” (John 20:13b).6 She even expresses the same supposition to Jesus, whom she mistakes for
the gardener: “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will take
him away” (John 20:15b). Her confusion regarding Jesus’ identity comes to an end when Jesus
addresses her by her name: Μαριάμ (John 20:16), which functions as a “token”—an unambiguous
sign that proves a person’s true identity to someone who is acquainted with that particular identity
trait.7 The Johannine narrative sequence clearly suggests that Mary did not recognize the risen Jesus
by sight but by a familiar voice, epitomizing the sheep who follow the good shepherd because he
calls them by name and they know his voice (John 10:2-4).8 In that sense, she functions as a model
for John’s audience, downplaying the significance of sight, which is no longer available to them,
and showing to them “that in the spoken word of Jesus they have the means of recognizing his
presence.”9
Mary’s recognition of Jesus is expressed by a single word, ραββουνι, an indeclinable Aramaic
loanword with a first-person suffix. Its literal meaning, “my lord, my master,” could be taken as an
equivalent to the Greek expression κύριε μου. However, the evangelist’s translation of the vocative
ραββουνι with διδάσκαλε (“teacher”), the same one that he gives for ῥαββί in John 1:38, indicates
that he wants to show that Mary identifies Jesus through a role he had in his pre-Easter ministry.10
Literary and Theological Commentary on the Fourth Gospel and the Johannine Epistles, rev. ed. (Macon, GA: Smyth &
Helwys, 2005), 260. For a different opinion, see Frank Schleritt, Der vorjohanneische Passionsbericht: Eine historisch-
kritische und theologische Untersuchung zu Joh 2,13-22; 11,47-14,31 und 18,1-20,29, BZNW 154 (Berlin: Gruyter,
2007), 491–2.
6
All translations of the Greek text are mine.
7
Alicia D. Myers, Reading John and 1, 2, 3 John: A Literary and Theological Commentary (Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys,
2019), 200.
8
Harold W. Attridge, “ ‘Don’t Be Touching Me’: Recent Feminist Scholarship on Mary Magdalene,” in A Feminist Companion
to John: Volume II, ed. Amy-Jill Levine, FCNT 5 (London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003), 141.
9
Brown, The Gospel According to John, 2:1009.
10
In addition to John 1:38, Jesus is called ῥαββί in John 1:49; 3:2; 4:31; 6:25; 9:2; 11:8.
Touching the Risen Jesus 145
Mary’s application of this “old” title to the risen Jesus could therefore be interpreted as her failure to
perceive Jesus’ exalted state. Raymond Brown, for example, suggests that “the Johannine Magdalene
is showing her misunderstanding of the resurrection by thinking that she can now resume following
Jesus in the same manner as she had followed him during his earthly ministry.”11 But the use of this
“old” title could also be interpreted as a necessary link between the pre-Easter and post-Easter Jesus,
an indication of continuity within discontinuity so enthrallingly conveyed through Mary’s failure to
recognize the risen Jesus at first. Addressing him with the title that was used in his earthly ministry
conveys to the reader that the one standing before Mary is indeed the same person whom she knew
in the past.
Jesus’ reply to Mary’s recognition consists of three imperatival clauses, the first of which
represents the crux interpretum of this episode:
(1) μή μου ἅπτου, οὔπω γὰρ ἀναβέβηκα πρὸς τὸν πατέρα
(2) πορεύου δὲ πρὸς τοὺς ἀδελφούς μου
(3) εἰπὲ αὐτοῖς· ἀναβαίνω πρὸς τὸν πατέρα μου καὶ πατέρα ὑμῶν καὶ θεόν μου καὶ θεὸν ὑμῶν
Whether the negated present imperative μή μου ἅπτου in the first imperatival clause refers to the
cessation of an action that is already in progress or to the prohibition of an action that has not yet
started depends not only on the specific meaning of the verb ἅπτω in this context but also on the
relationship of Jesus’ request to the γάρ clause that follows. The imperfective aspect of the present
imperative ἅπτου indicates that the prohibited action is portrayed as a process without regard for
its beginning and end. The Aktionsart, that is, the kind of action expressed by the verb, depends on
the semantic range of ἅπτω, which includes “touch,” “take hold of,” “hold on to,” “fasten oneself
to,” and “cling to.”12 The specific meaning of the verb in John 20:17 is determined to a large
extent by one’s understanding of the type of contact this verb could express. If one shares Sandra
Schneiders’s view that ἅπτω is “an apt metonymy for the physically mediated historical experience
of two people relating ‘in the flesh,’ that is, as mortal human beings,”13 then μή μου ἅπτου prohibits
an action that is categorically impossible because Jesus is no longer “in the flesh” that characterizes
mortal human beings; hence, his risen body is not tangible.14 In that case, the prohibited action has
only been attempted but not really performed because this type of physical contact is not possible
11
Brown, The Gospel According to John, 2:1010. Schneiders, “Touching the Risen Jesus,” 171, concludes that Mary
Magdalene “erroneously thinks that the past dispensation has been reinstated. Things will be as they had always been.”
Barrett, The Gospel According to St. John, 565, says that “she is trying to recapture the past.” Francis Moloney, The Gospel
of John, SP 4 (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1998), 526, speaks of Mary’s “attempt to reestablish the relationship she
once had with him.”
12
According to C. H. Dodd, Interpretation of the Fourth Gospel, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1960),
443 n.2, the aorist tense of this verb means “touch,” while the present tense means “hold,” “grasp,” or “cling.”
13
Schneiders, “Touching the Risen Jesus,” 172.
14
To this group of scholars belong also those who think that ἅπτω refers to an embrace or to sexual consummation; on
the former, see Rudolf Bultmann, The Gospel of John: A Commentary, trans. George R. Beasley-Murray (Philadelphia,
PA: Westminster John Knox Press, 1971), 687; on the latter, see Adele Reinhartz, Befriending the Beloved Disciple: A
Jewish Reading of the Gospel of John (New York: Continuum, 2001), 111; Susanne Ruschmann, Maria von Magdala im
Johannesevangelium, NTAbh 40 (Münster: Aschendorf, 2002), 201–5. A different interpretation is proposed by Mary Rose
D’Angelo, “A Critical Note: John 20:18 and Apocalypse of Moses 31,” JTS 41 (1990): 529–36, who finds a parallel in the
Apoc. Mos. 31:3–4, on the basis of which she concludes that Mary is prohibited to touch Jesus’ resurrected body in order to
avoid ritual impurity.
in Jesus’ exalted state.15 On this reading, however, the explanatory clause that follows, “for I have
not yet ascended to the Father,” is not intelligible because the adverb οὔπω, along with the stative
aspect of the perfect tense ἀναβέβηκα, indicates that Jesus has not yet attained an exalted state in
which he could not be touched.16
A more compelling view, which takes into account the imperfective aspect of the present
imperative ἅπτου, is to understand the verb as a reference to an unfolding action that inhibits Jesus’
ascension, such as holding him back or clinging on to him, and thus preventing in some way his
transition to the Father.17 In that case, the explanatory clause that follows, οὔπω γὰρ ἀναβέβηκα
πρὸς τὸν πατέρα, indicates that the issue is not that Jesus’ resurrected body is intangible but that
holding or clinging on to him while he was ascending to the Father is objectionable because it
interferes with his upward movement.18 The chronological and spatial differentiation presumed
by the text, however, does not mean that the Fourth Evangelist makes a conceptual distinction
between Jesus’ resurrection and ascension. As Brown aptly explains, “ ‘ascension’ is merely the
use of spatial language to describe exaltation and glorification.”19 The risen Jesus conveys to Mary
that his ascension is in progress when he appears to her, while his subsequent appearances to his
disciples presume that his ascension has been completed, that is, that he appears from heaven. It
would be nonetheless erroneous to surmise that Jesus’ appearance to Mary was somehow inferior
to the appearances to the disciples because John makes no distinction between these experiences.
Mary uses the same language to describe her encounter with the risen Jesus, ἑώρακα τὸν κύριον (“I
15
Pace Schneiders, “Touching the Risen Jesus,” 171, who erroneously parses ἅπτου as “the imperative verb … in the imperfect
tense” and alleges that it reflects “an ongoing or continuous activity.”
16
Reimund Bieringer, “Touching Jesus? The Meaning of μή μου ἅπτου in Its Johannine Context,” in To Touch or Not to
Touch? Interdisciplinary Perspectives on the Noli me tangere, ed. Reimund Bieringer, Karlijn Demasure, and Barbara Baert,
ANL 67 (Leuven: Peeters, 2013), 65; Stanley E. Porter, Verbal Aspect in the Greek of the New Testament, with Reference
to Tense and Mood, SBG 1 (New York: Peter Lang, 1989), 356. Sandra Schneiders, “John 20.11-18: The Encounter of the
Easter Jesus with Mary Magdalene—A Transformative Feminist Reading,” in vol. 1 of “What Is John?” Readers and Readings
of the Fourth Gospel, ed. Fernando F. Segovia, 2 vols., SBLSymS (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1996), 1:165, proposes to
translate οὔπω γὰρ ἀναβέβηκα πρὸς τὸν πατέρα not as a declarative sentence, “I am not yet ascended to my Father,” as if this
supplied some reason why she should not or could not touch him, but as a rhetorical question expecting a negative reply,
that is, “Am I as yet (or still) not ascended?” The proper answer to the question is, “No, you are indeed ascended, that is,
glorified.” However, the interpretation of οὔπω as an interrogative particle is not sustainable because this adverb normally
means “not yet” and cannot be construed as a two-word term (οὐ πω) that is presumed by Schneiders’s hypothesis.
17
Brown, The Gospel According to John, 2:992, 1011; Frank J. Matera, “John 20:1-18,” Int 43 (1989): 405; Barrett, The
Gospel According to St. John, 565; Schnackenburg, The Gospel According to St. John, 3:318; Talbert, Reading John, 260;
Myers, Reading John and 1, 2, 3 John, 201. This interpretation is frequently based on a hypothesis of John’s dependence on
Matthew’s account about Jesus’ appearance to two Marys as they were departing from the place of Jesus’ burial; cf. Brown,
The Gospel According to John, 2:992; D. Moody Smith, John, ANTC (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1999), 376. For a
detailed comparison of John 20:14–17 and Matt 28:9–10, see Reimund Bieringer, “ ‘I Am Ascending to My Father and Your
Father, to My God and Your God’ (John 20:17): Resurrection and Ascension in the Gospel of John,” in The Resurrection
of Jesus in the Gospel of John, ed. Craig R. Koester and Reimund Bieringer, WUNT 222 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008),
222–32. Bieringer interprets μή μου ἅπτου in John 20:17 as a redactional reworking of Matthew’s αἱ δὲ προσελθοῦσαι
ἐκράτησαν αὐτοῦ τοὺς πόδας καὶ προσεκύνησαν αὐτῷ and concludes that the Fourth Evangelist corrects Matthew by stating
“that even the risen Christ is not someone to be worshipped. The γάρ clause that follows in 20:17c is then saying that by
ascending to God, Jesus will prepare the access to the Father, the one to be worshipped (together with the Son and the Holy
Spirit)” (ibid., 232).
18
Jörg Frey, The Glory of the Crucified One: Christology and Theology in the Gospel of John, trans. Wayne Coppins and
Christoph Heilig, BMSEC (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2018), 226.
19
have seen the Lord”; John 20:18), that the disciples use to describe theirs, ἑωράκαμεν τὸν κύριον
(“We have seen the Lord”; John 20:25).
The understanding of ascension in the Fourth Gospel is clearly different from the one in Luke-
Acts, where the ascension concludes the period of Jesus’ resurrection appearances (Luke 24:50-
53; Acts 1:1-11). John’s fusion of Jesus’ resurrection and ascension is consonant with other New
Testament passages that associate these two events. For example, in the Christ hymn (Phil 2:6-11),
an early Christian composition that describes Christ’s transition from being in the form of God to
becoming a human being, Jesus’ resurrection and exaltation are portrayed as an undifferentiated
event: “An when he was found in appearance as a human being, he humiliated himself by becoming
obedient to the point of death, that is, death on a cross. For this reason also God exalted him and
granted him the name that is above every name” (Phil 2:7b-9). Jesus’ resurrection, which is here
“tacitly assumed,” is “passed over in favor of a full emphasis upon the victory of Christ and His
installation in the seat of power in might.”20 In Matt 28:16-20, the risen Jesus, who appears to his
disciples on an unspecified mountain in Galilee several days after appearing to two Marys in the
vicinity of the empty tomb, declares that all authority in heaven and on earth has been given to him.
If, then, Jesus’ appearances in the Fourth Gospel and his ascension to the Father cannot be
conceptually differentiated, Jesus’ command to Mary Magdalene to stop holding him should not be
restricted to just the period of his transition to the Father’s presence. Rather, it serves to explain to
Mary, and to the audience, that Jesus’ resurrection is just one aspect of Jesus’ “hour,” which involves
his being lifted up on the cross, being raised from the dead, and returning to the Father.21 In John,
in contrast to the synoptic Gospels, the emphasis falls not on Jesus’ presence with his followers
through his post-resurrection appearances but on his absence.22 Jesus is brought back to life only to
return from whence he came. It could therefore be said that “Jesus’ mode of existence as the risen
one is only provisional and transitional.”23 His resurrection is thereby de-emphasized, as was the
case in his farewell discourse, in which Jesus repeatedly talked about his going to the Father (John
14:12, 28; 16:5, 10, 28) without ever predicting that he would be raised from the dead. Raymond
Brown suggests that “in telling [Mary] not to hold on to him, Jesus indicates that his permanent
presence is not by way of appearance, but by way of the gift of the Spirit that can come only after
he has ascended to the Father.”24 Narratively, this interpretation is quite compelling because the
next scene (John 21:19-23) describes the giving of the Holy Spirit, who will from now on function
as Jesus’ substitute on earth. This sequence corresponds to Jesus’ earlier explanation that only after
he has gone to the Father, he can send the Spirit of truth to his followers (John 14:15-21). But, in
the account itself about Mary’s encounter with the risen Jesus, the gift of the Holy Spirit, even if
implied, is not mentioned. Rather, Jesus tells Mary not to hold on to him because he is on his way
20
Ralph P. Martin, Carmen Christi: Philippians ii.5–11 in Recent Interpretation and in the Setting of Early Christian Worship,
SNTSMS 4 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967), 239.
21
Brown, The Gospel According to John, 2:1014; Schnackenburg, The Gospel According to St. John, 3:319.
22
J. Ramsey Michaels, The Gospel of John, NICNT (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2010), 1000.
23
Bieringer, “ ‘I Am Ascending to My Father and Your Father, to My God and Your God’ (John 20:17),” 210; Michael
Theobald, “Der johanneische Osterglaube und die Grenzen seiner narrative Vermittlung (Joh 20),” in Von Jesus zum
Christus: Christologische Studien. Festgabe für Paul Hoffmann zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. Rudolf Hoppe and Ulrich Busse,
BZNW 93 (Berlin: Gruyter, 1998), 111–12.
24
Brown, The Gospel According to John, 2:1012. Cf. Dorothy A. Lee, “Partnership in Easter Faith: The Role of Mary
Magdalene and Thomas in John 20,” JSNT 58 (1995): 42; Smith, John, 378.
to the Father, and he asks her to inform his disciples that he is ascending to his and their Father.
Strictly speaking, this is not a message about Jesus’ permanent presence but about Jesus’ permanent
absence. In the Johannine theological scheme, this absence is a necessary condition for the giving
of the Spirit: “For if I do not go away, the Paraclete will not come to you; but if I go, I will send
him to you” (John 16:7b). Hence, if μή μου ἅπτου, οὔπω γὰρ ἀναβέβηκα πρὸς τὸν πατέρα suggests
that Mary could not hold Jesus just yet but may be able to do so after he has ascended to God, this
“holding” will be of a different kind, the one that no longer involves physical contact with the risen
Jesus but is mediated through the Spirit.25
Mary Magdalene prefaces her report to the disciples about Jesus’ message to them by proclaiming,
“I have seen the Lord” (ἑώρακα τὸν κύριον). The stative aspect of the perfect tense of ὁράω gives
prominence to Mary’s status as a witness of the resurrection—the “apostle of the apostles” as she
would be later called by Hippolytus of Rome26—whose vision of the risen Jesus remains enduringly
before her eyes. In this way, Jesus’ departure to the Father, implied in the terse clause, καὶ ταῦτα
εἶπεν αὐτῇ (“and that he had said these things to her”), is assimilated into Mary’s memory of Jesus’
appearance, which she now shares with other disciples. Through her, the Fourth Evangelist teaches
the audience that Jesus’ permanent resurrected state is with his Father in heaven and not among his
followers on earth.
2. THOMAS’S ENCOUNTER WITH THE RISEN JESUS

The Fourth Evangelist portrays Thomas as one of the twelve who refused to believe the report
of other disciples that they had seen the risen Jesus until he verified Jesus’ identity by touching
the marks of his crucifixion (John 20:24-29). His request, “Unless I see in his hands the mark
of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side,
I will never believe” (John 20:25), is not the result of his misunderstanding of the nature of
Jesus’ presence, as some scholars suggest,27 but of his earnest desire to validate the testimony
of others. When one week later Jesus appeared to his disciples for the second time, he invited
Thomas to act upon his request. Whether Thomas actually touched Jesus’ hands and side is not
reported. Rather, the narrator immediately relates Thomas’s acknowledgment of Jesus’ identity,
which he expresses in the most profound terms, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus’ reply, “Because
you have seen me, have you believed?,” presumes that Thomas has come to faith as a result of
having seen the risen Jesus rather than having touched the marks of his crucifixion. The climax
of the entire scene is Jesus’ declaration of blessing upon future believers who will not have the
opportunity, like Thomas, to verify Jesus’ identity by sight: “Blessed [are] those who have not
seen and yet have believed!”
Known as “doubting Thomas,” Thomas the Twin is usually seen as a person whose faith demands
empirical verification. For Rudolf Bultmann, “the doubt of Thomas is representative of the common
25
De Boer, “The Interpretation of John 20:17 in Early Christian Writings,” 105, suggests that “through Mary Magdalene
the readers can find the way from the earthly relationship with Jesus towards the spiritual relationship with the risen one.”
Frey, The Glory of the Crucified One, 226, speaks about Mary’s “consent to his departure, which leads to a fundamentally
new, post-Easter relation of the female and male disciples to Jesus himself and to God.”
26
Hippolytus, In Cant. 67.
27
Cf. Lee, “Partnership in Easter Faith,” 43.
attitude of men, who cannot believe without seeing miracles.”28 Ernst Haenchen states, “Thomas
receives what was only accessible to the second generation and the generations to follow and what,
in the view of the Evangelist, was the only thing Jesus gave to the first disciples: the word. For, there
is not verifying experience (miracle!) by which we can be convinced of God’s reality with objective
certainty.”29 According to Rudolf Schnackenburg, “he is not a type of the unbeliever as such but of
one blind to faith and of one with a weak faith to whom belief in its wholeness will be granted as a
gift only by Jesus himself, and that, after the resurrection.”30
These characterizations of Thomas should be revisited by taking a closer look at the narratival
and theological functions of his desire to put his finger into the marks of the crucifixion on Jesus’
body. To start with, Thomas’s request is reasonable within the plot of John’s narrative and calls
attention to the unexpected character of Jesus’ resurrection. In the Fourth Gospel, Jesus does not
make clear predictions that he will be raised from the dead. Instead, he makes cryptic statements,
such as inviting the Jews to destroy “this temple” and then prophesying that he will raise it
up in three days, which his adversaries completely misunderstand and his disciples do not truly
understand (John 2:18-22). In the Johannine resurrection narrative, the angels at the tomb, unlike
their Synoptic counterparts, provide no clarity. According to John 20:9, Jesus’ disciples did not
yet possess the proper understanding of Scripture that could help them understand the Easter
events. Given these circumstances, Thomas’s request is not unreasonable. Mary recognized Jesus
only after he called her name. The disciples rejoiced only after Jesus “showed his hands and his
side to them” (John 20:20). Even the beloved disciple, who did not see Jesus himself, came to
faith after having seen the burial wrappings in the empty tomb (John 20:8). Thomas’s behavior fits
this pattern by stretching its boundaries. It is true that he “is asking more than was offered to the
other disciples,” as Brown alleges,31 but he has also been asked to base his faith on less. It seems
therefore fair to say with James Charlesworth that “Thomas … is the realist who stands firmly
against wishful believing.”32
Furthermore, when Jesus says to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands, and put your
hand and place [it] into my side. And do not be unbelieving but believing” (John 20:27), he invites
Thomas to establish the continuity between the Crucified and the Risen One, which is, like in the
previous scene with Mary Magdalene, a necessary step of validating Jesus’ identity.33 He, too, needs
a “token”—an unequivocal sign that proves to him, and to the audience, that the person in front of
him is really Jesus. For Thomas, this sign presumes his knowledge that Jesus has been nailed to the
28
Bultmann, The Gospel of John, 696.
29
Ernst Haenchen, John 2, trans. Robert W. Funk, Hermeneia (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1984), 211.
30
Schnackenburg, The Gospel According to St. John, 3:329.
31
32
James H. Charlesworth, The Beloved Disciple: Whose Witness Validates the Gospel of John? (Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press
International, 1995), 312 (original emphasis).
33
Stan Harstine, “Un-Doubting Thomas: Recognition Scenes in the Ancient World,” PRSt 33 (2006): 445–7, compares
the recognition of Jesus by Thomas to the recognition of Odysseus by Penelope in Homer’s Odyssey. Penelope becomes
fully convinced about her husband’s identity only upon receiving the proof known only to Odysseus and herself. Harstine
emphasizes that Penelope is not castigated as one who doubts Odysseus’s identity; rather, she is presented as the wise
and trustworthy wife (Od. 19.135–6). He concludes that “it is probable that Thomas’s presentation in the Fourth Gospel
would be understood by a first-century reader as that of a loyal and faithful servant, a servant who is waiting for a sign of
recognition that only his true master can provide” (ibid., 447).
cross and that his side has been pierced (John 19:31-37).34 Candida Moss argues that the presentation
of the marks of the crucifixion is a more powerful proof of Jesus’ identity than a recognition of his
voice.35 The marks of the nails as scars also prove that Jesus is alive because only living bodies could
heal.36 It is therefore slightly misleading to say that “Thomas is interested in probing the miraculous
as such.”37 Thomas is primarily interested in probing Jesus’ embodied identity, which involves two
senses—the sense of touch and the sense of sight. Both senses are mentioned in Thomas’s request
as well as in Jesus’ invitation to act upon this request, but in a reversed order. In Thomas’s request,
the sense of sight comes before the sense of touch (“Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails,
and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side”), while in Jesus’
invitation, the sense of touch comes first (“Put your finger here and see my hands, and put your
hand and place [it] into my side”).38 The actual touch—putting a finger into the mark of the nails
and placing a hand into Jesus’ side—is not narrated; rather, the emphasis falls on Thomas’s visual
experience, as Jesus’ response indicates (ὅτι ἑώρακάς με πεπίστευκας),39 prompting him to confess
that Jesus is his Lord and his God. The entire scene shows to the audience that the testimony of the
first generation of Jesus’ followers is trustworthy because they declare what they have heard, what
they have seen with their eyes, and what they have looked at and touched with their hands (1 John
1:1). This account does not involve an opposition between seeing and believing. Rather, it shows
that seeing and believing are mutually interdependent. “Although seeing is not believing, there is no
believing without seeing, that is, without somebody’s having seen.”40
Finally, the concluding beatitude, “Blessed [are] those who have not seen and yet have believed”
(John 20:29), functions not as a reproach of “doubting Thomas” but as a promise to the future
believers who will have to rely on the testimony of the first generation of Jesus’ followers. They are
thereby brought into the scene and compared to those who have been privileged to see and touch
Jesus. By pronouncing them blessed, Jesus declares, as Jörg Frey puts it, that “their situation in the
subsequent post-Easter period is by no means less favorable than the situation of the first witnesses,
34
According to the Johannine narrative, the beloved disciple is the only male disciple that witnessed the piercing of Jesus’
side. Thus, within the narrative plot, he is the only person for whom the pierced side could function as a sign of Jesus’
identity. Charlesworth, The Beloved Disciple, 231, perceptively asks, “How does he [Thomas] know about the wound in
Jesus’ side? Is it not odd that Thomas never meets and talks with the Beloved Disciple who alone could have informed him.
… The most viable explanation is to assume that Thomas had witnessed this aspect of the crucifixion, which is described
in c hapter 19.” From these observations Charlesworth draws the conclusion that “Thomas could have been present as the
Beloved Disciple” (ibid., 232). Smith, John, 383, notes that “the specificity of the request to examine the side as well as the
hands of Jesus is actually the strongest link in Charlesworth’s argument (1995) that Thomas is the Beloved Disciple, that is,
if one takes the integrity of the narrative seriously.”
35
Candida R. Moss, “The Marks of the Nails: Scars, Wounds and the Resurrection of Jesus in John,” EC 8 (2017): 58.
36
Moss, “The Marks of the Nails,” 63–5.
37
38
Pace Schneiders, “Touching the Risen Jesus,” 168, who alleges that ἴδε functions as a revelatory formula, as elsewhere in
the Fourth Gospel, and then concludes that Jesus’ “invitation is to see physically but to grasp what cannot be seen with the
eyes of flesh.” In John 20:27, ἴδε does not function as an interjection, that is, “revelatory formula,” that is used elsewhere
in John when that which is observed/revealed is in the nominative, but as a second-person singular imperative that requires
the direct object in the accusative; cf. Lidija Novakovic, John 11-21: A Handbook on the Greek Text, BHGNT (Waco,
TX: Baylor University Press, 2020), 307.
39
The Greek clause in John 20:29a could be understood either as a question (“Because you have seen me, have you
believed?”) or as a statement (“Because you have seen me, you have believed”); cf. Novakovic, John 11-21, 308.
40
Smith, John, 384.
even though Christ can no longer be directly seen (16.10, 17) and physically touched by them.”41
In this way, the scene that started with Thomas’s request for Jesus’ bodily presence ends with the
acknowledgment of Jesus’ permanent absence, which is portrayed as a blessed state because it
involves faith that is not based on seeing.
3. MARY AND THOMAS: A COMPARISON

Does the Fourth Evangelist invite a comparison between Mary Magdalene and Thomas? According
to Raymond Brown, he does not.
The basis of much of the difficulty lies in the comparison that many commentators have made
between Jesus’ instruction to Magdalene (often translated, “Don’t touch me”) and his later
invitation to Thomas to touch him. It is our conviction that the two attitudes of Jesus have
nothing to do with one another and that the evangelist intended no comparison between them, as
if Thomas were being invited to do what had been refused to Magdalene. It is the commentators
who have created the contrast by speaking as if Thomas was invited to “touch” Jesus; the verb
“to touch” used in the instruction to Magdalene does not appear in the Thomas episode. Jesus
told Magdalene not to cling to him; he invited Thomas to probe his wounds—what is there in
common between the two actions?42
Brown’s critique of contrived comparisons between Mary Magdalene and Thomas is certainly
well-taken, but his contention that the absence of the verb ἅπτω in the Thomas episode prevents
a fruitful comparison of Mary’s and Thomas’s conducts is far-fetched. Placing a finger on a scar
involves coming into physical contact with—that is, touching—someone’s body. Likewise, clinging
to or holding someone involves a physical contact with that person. I therefore suggest that a
comparison between Mary Magdalene and Thomas is not only possible but also instructive.
The preceding analysis shows that, on the one hand, Mary and Thomas do not engage in the
same type of physical contact with the risen Jesus and, on the other hand, their actions have
different functions. Mary was holding Jesus back or clinging on to him and thus hampering his
movement toward the Father. Thomas wanted to touch the marks of the crucifixion on Jesus’ hands
and side to verify his identity and thus get certainty that the Crucified One has been really raised
from the dead. While establishing the continuity between the pre-Easter and post-Easter Jesus plays
a significant role in the account about Mary’s experience, her recognition of the risen Jesus does
not occur through touch. Nor does she seek to verify Jesus’ identity. Rather, her identification of
the risen Jesus is presented as a consequence of Jesus’ initiative—when he called her by her name.
Did, then, Jesus allow Thomas to do what he refused to Mary? The answer must be a resounding
no because the identification of Jesus, which Thomas sought to accomplish through his action, was
not the purpose of Mary’s holding on to Jesus.
Yet at the same time, there is a theological motif discernible in both episodes, which brings them
together despite the aforementioned differences. Each account starts with Jesus’ post-resurrection
41
Frey, The Glory of the Crucified One, 232. See also Barrett, The Gospel According to St. John, 574–5. Brown, The Gospel
According to John, 2:1049, speaks of “a contrast between two situations: the situation of seeing Jesus and that of not seeing
Jesus.”
42
bodily presence and ends with an emphasis on Jesus’ bodily absence. The risen Jesus meets Mary
Magdalene only to tell her that he is ascending to the Father. Her holding on to him is objectionable
not only because it interferes with his upward movement but also because it conveys an erroneous
understanding of Jesus’ post-resurrection abode, which will now be with the Father rather than
with his followers on earth. Correspondingly, the Thomas episode closes with Jesus’ blessing upon
those who will come to believe that he has been raised from the dead without having seen him alive.
In this way, the risen Jesus indicates that the post-Easter period will be marked by his permanent
absence, which will nonetheless be spiritually rewarding because it will require faith that is not
based on sight.
4. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Attridge, Harold W. “ ‘Don’t Be Touching Me’: Recent Feminist Scholarship on Mary Magdalene.” Pages 140–
66 in A Feminist Companion to John: Volume II. Edited by Amy-Jill Levine. FCNT 5. London: Sheffield
Barrett, C. K. The Gospel According to St. John: An Introduction with Commentary and Notes on the Greek
Text. 2nd ed. Philadelphia, PA: Westminster John Knox Press, 1978.
Bieringer, Reimund. “ ‘I Am Ascending to My Father and Your Father, to My God and Your God’ (John
20:17): Resurrection and Ascension in the Gospel of John.” Pages 209–35 in The Resurrection of Jesus
in the Gospel of John. Edited by Craig R. Koester and Reimund Bieringer. WUNT 222. Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 2008.
Bieringer, Reimund. “Touching Jesus? The Meaning of μή μου ἅπτου in Its Johannine Context.” Pages 61–81
in To Touch or Not to Touch? Interdisciplinary Perspectives on the Noli me tangere. Edited by Reimund
Bieringer, Karlijn Demasure, and Barbara Baert. ANL 67. Leuven: Peeters, 2013.
Boer, Esther A. de. “The Interpretation of John 20:17 in Early Christian Writings: Why Is Noli me tangere
Absent in ‘Apocryphal’ Literature?” Pages 99–137 in To Touch or Not to Touch? Interdisciplinary Perspectives
on the Noli me tangere. Edited by Reimund Bieringer, Karlijn Demasure, and Barbara Baert. ANL 67.
Leuven: Peeters, 2013.
Brown, Raymond E. The Gospel According to John. 2 vols. AB 29–29A. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1966–70.
Bultmann, Rudolf. The Gospel of John: A Commentary. Translated by George R. Beasley-Murray. Philadelphia,
PA: Westminster John Knox Press, 1971.
Charlesworth, James H. The Beloved Disciple: Whose Witness Validates the Gospel of John? Valley Forge,
D’Angelo, Mary Rose. “A Critical Note: John 20:18 and Apocalypse of Moses 31.” Journal of Theological
Studies 41 (1990): 529–36.
Dodd, C. H. Interpretation of the Fourth Gospel. 2nd ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1960.
Frey, Jörg. The Glory of the Crucified One: Christology and Theology in the Gospel of John. Translated by
Wayne Coppins and Christoph Heilig. BMSEC. Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2018.
Haenchen, Ernst. John 2. Translated by Robert W. Funk. Hermeneia. Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1984.
Harstine, Stan. “Un-Doubting Thomas: Recognition Scenes in the Ancient World.” Perspectives in Religious
Studies 33 (2006): 435–47.
Lee, Dorothy A. “Partnership in Easter Faith: The Role of Mary Magdalene and Thomas in John 20.” Journal
for the Study of the New Testament 58 (1995): 37–49.
Martin, Ralph P. Carmen Christi: Philippians ii.5–11 in Recent Interpretation and in the Setting of Early
Christian Worship. SNTSMS 4. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967.
Matera, Frank J. “John 20:1–18.” Interpretation 43 (1989): 402–6.
Michaels, J. Ramsey. The Gospel of John. NICNT. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2010.
Moloney, Francis. The Gospel of John. SP 4. Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1998.
Moss, Candida R. “The Marks of the Nails: Scars, Wounds and the Resurrection of Jesus in John.” Early
Christianity 8 (2017): 48–68.
Myers, Alicia D. Reading John and 1, 2, 3 John: A Literary and Theological Commentary. Macon, GA: Smyth
& Helwys, 2019.
Novakovic, Lidija. John 11-21: A Handbook on the Greek Text. BHGNT. Waco, TX: Baylor University
Press, 2020.
Porter, Stanley E. Verbal Aspect in the Greek of the New Testament, with Reference to Tense and Mood. SBG
1. New York: Peter Lang, 1989.
Reinhartz, Adele. Befriending the Beloved Disciple: A Jewish Reading of the Gospel of John.
New York: Continuum, 2001.
Ruschmann, Susanne. Maria von Magdala im Johannesevangelium. NTAbh 40. Münster: Aschendorf, 2002.
Schleritt, Frank. Der vorjohanneische Passionsbericht: Eine historisch-kritische und theologische Untersuchung
zu Joh 2,13–22; 11,47–14,31 und 18,1–20,29. BZNW 154. Berlin: Gruyter, 2007.
Schnackenburg, Rudolf. The Gospel According to St. John. 3 vols. Translated by Kevin Smyth et al.
New York: Crossroad, 1968, 1980, 1982.
Schneiders, Sandra M. “John 20.11–18: The Encounter of the Easter Jesus with Mary Magdalene –
A Transformative Feminist Reading.” Pages 155–69 in vol. 1 of “What Is John?” Readers and Readings of
the Fourth Gospel. Edited by Fernando F. Segovia. 2 vols. SBLSymS. Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1996.
Schneiders, Sandra M. “Touching the Risen Jesus: Mary Magdalene and Thomas the Twin in John 20.” Pages
153–76 in The Resurrection of Jesus in the Gospel of John. Edited by Craig R. Koester and Reimund
Bieringer. WUNT 222. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008.
Smith, D. Moody. John. ANTC. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1999.
Talbert, Charles H. Reading John: A Literary and Theological Commentary on the Fourth Gospel and the
Johannine Epistles. Rev. ed. Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2005.
Theobald, Michael. “Der johanneische Osterglaube und die Grenzen seiner narrative Vermittlung (Joh 20).”
Pages 93–123 in Von Jesus zum Christus: Christologische Studien. Festgabe für Paul Hoffmann zum 65.
Geburtstag. Edited by Rudolf Hoppe and Ulrich Busse. BZNW 93. Berlin: Gruyter, 1998.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Who Is My Brother? A Study of

the Term ἀδελφὸς in the Acts of
the Apostles
CLAIRE PFANN
1. INTRODUCTION
The question “Who is my brother?” takes on particular meaning in light of the use of the term
ἀδελφὸς by the author of the Acts of the Apostles (hereafter, Luke, for the sake of convenience).
This chapter will demonstrate, by identifying the ethnic and/or religious affiliation of the referent(s)
in each occurrence, that Luke uses this kinship term consistently throughout the first fourteen
chapters of the book to lead up to a significant change in its application in ch. 15. This change
parallels Luke’s narrative of the dramatic expansion of the church from the original Jewish followers
of Jesus in Jerusalem to the Gentile world. This unexpected growth necessitated a meeting in
Jerusalem of the apostles and elders at the Apostolic Council (Acts 15) to decide the Gentile
question. There they made a radical and powerful decision to accept the Gentile disciples as kin,
without requiring conversion, and extended to them the title of “brethren,” in effect, redefining the
family of Abraham. While recent research has dealt with the sociolinguistic use of this term in the
Acts of the Apostles, it has yet to recognize Luke’s nuanced use of the term, which is unique among
New Testament authors.1
Ἀδελφὸς is a kinship term defining horizontal relationships, that is, relationships between
people. It can indicate immediate familial relations (“brothers”) or extended community relations,
for example, cousins, members of the same team or organization, or members of clans or tribes,
for example, the children of Abraham (“brethren”).2 In Acts, with one definite exception (15:1),
it always refers to Jews, whether by birth or conversion, until 15:23, at which point a definite
On the οccasion of the celebration of Professor James Charlesworth’s eightieth birthday, his manifold contributions to the
study of Judaism and Christianity in the late Second Temple period, and his furthering of Jewish–Christian dialogue, I am
very grateful to be able to present this distillation of my master’s thesis, undertaken at the Graduate Theological Union in
Berkeley, but written in Jerusalem in 1984.
1
See, e.g., Julie A. Snyder, Language and Identity in Ancient Narratives: The Relationship between Speech Patterns and Social
Context in the Acts of the Apostles, Acts of John, and Acts of Philip, WUNT 2 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014).
2
The two English plurals of brother distinguish between immediate relatives (sons of the same parents) who are “brothers”
and larger groups who recognize each other as kindred and are deemed “brethren.” Though Greek has but one word for
brother (ἀδελφὸς), context makes relationship clear. This chapter will use the traditional English plurals to distinguish
between immediate relations and broader kinship groups based on context and internal indicators in Acts.
change in its use occurs. From that point on, following the decision of the Apostolic Council to
admit Gentiles into the community of the followers of Jesus the Messiah, brother is used of Gentile
disciples, while also continuing to be used of Jews.
In order to make clear the precise use of this term by Luke, a contrast will be made with his use
of the term μαθητὴς (disciple). Μαθητὴς defines a vertical relationship between persons of higher
status and lower status, for example, teacher–student, master–apprentice, rabbi–talmid, or messiah/
savior–disciple. As such, it allows for two distinct groups of disciples of Jesus to coexist without
having to define their relationship to each other. In Acts, it always refers to followers of Jesus,
whether Jewish or Gentile, but never to Jews who do not believe in Jesus as Messiah3 and becomes
Luke’s preferred term for the Gentile Christians until the Apostolic Council.
2. THE DATA
Ἀδελφὸς occurs fifty-six times in this book, four times in the singular (Ananias addressing Saul,
Acts 9:17, 22:13; James the brother of John, 12:2; the Jerusalem church leaders addressing Paul,
21:20). All other occurrences are in the plural, referring to groups of individuals. Three times
it refers to immediate relatives (the brothers of Jesus, 1:14; Joseph’s brothers, 7:13; James the
brother of John, 12:2). The remaining fifty-three times it is used of and by individuals who are
not immediate relatives, yet who recognize each other as kindred. Any application of the term to a
person who is not an immediate family member, whether in the singular or plural, is of interest to
this study. It is from these occurrences that Luke’s particular use of the term, replete with ecclesio-
historical and theological implications, may be discerned.
In the pre-Apostolic Council era, the likelihood of Jews addressing Gentiles as brethren was
remote in the extreme, for at its core “brother” infers a shared ancestor, which for the Jews was
Abraham.4 Luke’s use of this term likely reflects the cultural and social norms of the period before
the integration of Jewish and Gentile Christians as a joint religious group. The change in use
following the Apostolic Council demarcates a pivotal transition in group definition, paving the
way to the broader use of brethren to refer to all Christians, a usage that became normative. The
decision of the Council and the articulation of its parameters were conveyed in a letter, which,
from its opening words (“The brethren, both the apostles and the elders, to the brethren who are
of the Gentiles in Antioch and Syria and Cilicia, greeting,” Acts 15:23), reflected immediately the
elevation in status of the Gentile Christians to family members by their now Jewish brethren.
An examination of the use of ἀδελφὸς in the Acts of the Apostles can be divided into four
sections: Acts 1–9 (the Jewish-Christians in Jerusalem-Judea-Samaria); Acts 10:1–14:27 (the
emergence of the Gentile disciples in Caesarea Maritima, Antioch, Cyprus, Pamphilia, Pisidia,
Lycaonia); Acts 14:28–15:29 (the Apostolic Council), and Acts 15:30–28:31 (Jerusalem, Syria,
Asia, Macedonia, Achaia, Rome), with 15:23 marking the pivotal transition in its use.
It is clear from the narrative that Luke presents Cornelius and his household as the first Gentiles
to become disciples of Jesus (Acts 10:45; 11:1, 18; 15:7). The multiple retellings of this event
3
A vertical outline of all the occurrences in Acts of ἀδελφὸς and μαθητὴς appears in Appendix 11.1 in order that the reader
may see at a glance Luke’s pattern of use of these terms.
4
See the section on “Comparative Use of ἀδελφὸς” below.
WHO IS MY BROTHER? ἈΔΕΛΦῸΣ IN ACTS 157
in Acts 10 and 11 highlight its importance, its unexpectedness, and how it ultimately impacted
the composition and identity of the group of disciples.5 Since Cornelius and his household are
emphatically marked as the first Gentiles to believe, the first opportunity for the narrative to
address or describe a Gentile Christian as a brother begins only from Acts 10 on. In the purview
of Luke, then, all the individuals who come to faith in Jesus before Cornelius’s conversion are part
of the greater family of Abraham (including the Samaritans and Ethiopian eunuch of chap. 8). It
is important to note that from Acts 10–14, when the opportunity to label Gentile Christians as
brethren actually exists, Luke refrains from doing so. Rather, he calls them disciples.
3. Ἀδελφὸς AND μαθητὴς IN ACTS 1–9

Acts Reference Immediate Extended Extended ἀδελφὸς μαθητὴς
Relatives Kinship: Narrative Kinship: Direct Brethren Disciples
Address
1:14 Jesus’ brothers JC
1:15 Post-ascension JC
community in
Jerusalem
1:16 Peter to the 120 JC to JC
2:29 Peter to int’l JC to J
Jewish audience
at Pentecost
2:37 Audience to J to JC
apostles
3:17 Peter to audience JC to J
at Temple
3:22 Deut 18:15 J
6:1 Hebrew and JC
Hellenist
Jewish-Christians
6:2 Same as 6:1 JC
6:3 Peter to the JC to JC
disciples (6:1)
6:7 Same as 6:1 JC
7:2 Stephen to the JC to J
Jewish leaders
7:13 Joseph’s J
brothers
7:23 Israelites J
7:25 Israelites J
7:26 Israelites J
7:37 Deut 18:15 J
9:1 Saul opposes Jesus’ JC
disciples
9:10 Ananias in Damascus JC
5
The entire incident is recounted twice with Cornelius’s vision receiving three retellings, and Peter’s vision, two.

Address
9:17 Ananias to Saul JC to JC
9:19 Jesus’ disciples in JC
Damascus
9:25 Damascus disciples JC
aid Saul’s escape
9:26 Jewish-Christians in JC
Jerusalem
9:26 Paul JC
9:30 Jerusalem Christians JC
aid Saul’s escape
9:36 Tabitha JC
9:38 Disciples in Joppa JC
Ἀδελφὸς is used sixteen times in Acts 1–9, in each case referring only to Jews. It twice refers to
immediate family members (Jesus’ brothers, 1:14; Joseph’s brothers, 7:13). Five times it is used
of the Israelite ancestors of the Jews, twice in quotations from the Old Testament (3:22 and 7:37,
both quoting Deut 18:15), and three times in Stephen’s speech referring to events in Israel’s history
(7:23, 25, 26). Twice it is used of the Jewish followers of Jesus (the post-ascension community of
“120” in 1:15, and the Jerusalem Jewish-Christian community who aided Saul’s escape in 9:30).6
Of greater interest is its use in direct speech where social relations are revealed. Ἀδελφὸς is used
seven times in the vocative in chs. 1–9 and provides examples of the three critical relational uses: a
Jewish-Christian addressing Jews who are not followers of Jesus (2:29; 3:17; 7:2), Jews addressing
Jewish-Christians (2:37), and Jewish-Christians addressing Jewish-Christians (1:16; 6:3, 9:17).
In every case, those addressed are Jews, whether by birth or conversion, and their attitude
toward Jesus is irrelevant to Jewish status. Descent from their shared ancestor Abraham makes them
brethren. The interchange between Peter and the audience at Pentecost, as the first conversation
between the Jewish followers of Jesus and the broader Jewish community, is especially valuable,
as they each freely address the other as “brethren.” On the basis of Acts 2:5–11, one might ask,
“But are there not any Gentiles included in the audience?” Indeed, Luke creates an illusion of
universality by providing a list of the international audience gathered at the feast in this passage.
Now there were dwelling in Jerusalem Jews, devout men from every nation under heaven.
And at this sound the multitude came together, and they were bewildered, because each one
heard them speaking in his own language. And they were amazed and wondered, saying, “Are
not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us in his own
native language? Parthians and Medes and Elamites and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and
Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging
to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabians, we hear
6
In the charts and Appendix 11.1, “J” indicates Jews who are not followers of Jesus, “JC” indicates Jews who are followers
of Jesus (Jewish-Christians), “G” indicates Gentile followers of Jesus (Gentile Christians), and “J-G” indicates mixed groups
of Jewish and Gentile Christians.
them telling in our own tongues the mighty works of God. (Acts 2:5–11 RSV 2d ed.; author’s
emphasis)
While it seems as though the known world is represented in this list and thus present in Jerusalem
at Pentecost, twice Luke explicitly delimits the group to Jews (vv. 5, 10). This sleight of hand
continues, in a broad stroke, the theme of the universality of salvation begun in his Gospel (e.g.,
Luke 2:29–32; 24:46–48), but in the detail maintains Luke’s narrative purpose to define the
brethren as Jews until after the Apostolic Council. As Peter’s speech progresses, this specificity is
reflected in the interchangeability of the addressees: ἄνδρες Ἰουδαῖοι (v. 14), ἄνδρες Ἰσραηλῖται (v.
22),7 ἄνδρες ἀδελφοί (v. 29),8 essentially, “Jews,” “Israelites,” “Brethren.”
Acts 6:1 presents the first uses of μαθητὴς in the context of the growing community of Jewish
followers of Jesus, both local (τοὺς Ἑβραίους) and international (τῶν ‘Ελληνιστῶν). This mixed
group of Jewish disciples, divided along linguistic, exegetical, and halakhic grounds, forms the
“body of disciples” (6:2) and is addressed collectively as brethren (6:3). Included among them are
both Jews and converts as the list of deacons appointed in Acts 6:5 includes one Nicolaus who is
“a proselyte of Antioch.”9
The final use of ἀδελφὸς in Acts 1–9 is when Ananias addresses Saul as Σαοὺλ ἀδελφέ in ch. 9.
Ananias is a member of the community of Jewish-Christian disciples at Damascus (9:10, 19, 25),
the community that Saul has set out to arrest (9:1–2). Although the designation of μαθητὴς does not
specify religious or ethnic identity, the context clearly points to Ananias as a Jewish-Christian: his
name (‫ ;)חנניה‬his idiomatic Hebrew response to the vision “Here I am, Lord” (‫ הנני אדוני‬9:10, cf.
1 Sam 3:4, 6, 8); and his recognition of the authority given to Saul by the chief priests (and
his resultant fear of Saul; 9:13–14). Most importantly, the fact that Luke has not yet introduced
the mission to the Gentiles and hence, presumably, all the believers addressed or using the term
ἀδελφὸς are thus Jewish, would indicate that Ananias, a Jewish believer in Christ, addresses Saul, a
fellow Jew and now a fellow Christian, as “brother.”10
The eight occurrences of μαθητὴς in ch. 9 (vv. 1, 10, 19, 25, 26 bis, 36, 38), spread among several
communities (Jerusalem, Damascus, Joppa), create a feeling of movement and growth among the
Jewish disciples of Jesus and prepare for the expansion of the disciples in ch. 10 to include Gentiles,
beginning with the God-fearer Cornelius and his household at Caesarea Maritima.
7
“Men of Israel” or “Israelites” (Ἰσραηλῖται) as opposed to “Jews” (Ἰουδαῖοι; now often translated “Judeans”) emphasizes the
religious identity of the referent, cf. H. G. Kuhn, “Ἰουδαῖος,” TDNT 3:360–2.
8
Ἄνδρες ἀδελφοί occurs thirteen times in the vocative in Acts (1:16; 2:29, 37; 7:2; 13:15, 26, 38; 15:7, 13; 22:1; 23:1, 6;
28:17). E. Haenchen dubs it a “compound Greek-OT expression”; E. Haenchen, The Acts of the Apostles (Oxford: Basil
Blackwell, 1971), 159. It corresponds to ‫ אחינו‬in rabbinic literature; cf. H. L. Strack and P. Billerbeck, Kommentar zum
Neuen Testament aus Talmud und Midrash (Munich: Beck, 1924), 2:765–6 and H. F. von Soden, “ἀδελφὸς,” TDNT 1:145.
In Acts the phrase is only used by Jews speaking to Jews. It occurs in later Christian literature in 1 Clem. 14:1; 37:1;
43:4; 62:1.
9
That “Hellenists” refers to Greek-speaking Jews while “Hebrews” refers to Hebrew- or Aramaic-speaking Jews is generally
held; cf. Haenchen, Acts, 260 n.3; or L. T. Johnson, The Acts of the Apostles, Sacra Pagina 5 (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical
Press, 2006), 105, among many others. Significant to our discussion is only that the individuals were Jewish followers
of Christ—regardless of their mother language or theological or halakic differences. On such differences, see, e.g., R. E.
Brown, “Not Jewish Christianity and Gentile Christianity but Types of Jewish/Gentile Christianity,” CBQ 45 (1983): 75;
and R. Brown and J. P. Meier, Antioch and Rome (New York: Paulist Press, 1983), 6–7 and 34 n.79.
10
Cf. also Acts 22:12, Paul’s later description of Ananias: “And one Ananias, a devout man according to the law, well spoken
of by all the Jews who lived there.”
4. Ἀδελφὸς AND μαθητὴς IN ACTS 10–14

Address
10:23 Six brethren from JC
Joppa (cf. 10:45,
11:12)
11:1 Apostles and JC
community in
Judea
11:12 Same as 10:23 JC
11:26 Syrian Antioch J-G
community
“Christians”
11:29 Syrian Antioch J-G
community
11:29 Apostles and JC
community in
Judea
12:2 James brother JC
of John
12:17 Jerusalem JC
community
leadership
13:15 Pisidian Antioch J to JC
synagogue
leaders to Paul
13:26 Paul to JC to J
synagogue
audience
13:38 Paul to JC to J
synagogue
audience
13:52 Iconium disciples J-G
14:2 Paul and Barnabas JC
14:20 Lystra disciples J-G
14:21 Derbe disciples J-G
14:22 Lystra, Antioch, J-G
Iconium
Ἀδελφὸς is used ten times in chs. 10–14. Once it refers to an immediate relative (James son of
Zebedee, brother of John, 12:2). Six times it refers to groups of Jewish-Christian disciples: a single
group from Joppa who accompany Peter to Caesarea (10:23 and 11:12), the apostles and Jewish-
Christian community in Judea (11:1, 29; 12:17), and Paul and Barnabas (14:2).
Three times it is used in the vocative, all within the synagogue setting in Antioch of Pisidia. In
13:15, the synagogue leaders address Paul and Barnabas as brethren (13:15). Twice in his sermon,
Paul likewise addresses the synagogue audience (13:26, 38). In all three cases, the referents are
Jewish. In fact, Luke, with precision similar to that used in 2:5–11, makes it a point to distinguish
between Paul’s Jewish listeners and any Gentile God-fearers who are present. This is seen in the
formal greetings heading two of the three subsections of Paul’s speech.
13:15 ἄνδρες Ἰσραηλῖται καὶ οἱ φοβούμενοι τὸν θεόν

Men of Israel and you that fear God
The opening section of the speech (13:16–25) is a very abridged retelling of Israel’s history from
God’s saving acts in delivering Israel from exile in Egypt, to his selection of David as king and the
promise of an heir, to the ministry of John the Baptist and the appearance of Jesus the Savior, the
promised descendant of David. Paul visualizes two groups in the synagogue setting, one Jewish
(“Men of Israel”) and one Gentile (“you that fear God”) and acknowledges both of them.
The second section (13:26–37) recounts the events of the immediate past, as Paul presents the
kerygma of Jesus’ passion, death, and resurrection, with biblical proof texts. He begins this section
as follows:
13:26 ἄνδρες ἀδελφοί, υἱοὶ γένους Ἀβραὰμ καὶ οἱ ἐν ὑμῖν φοβούμενοι τὸν θεόν
Brethren, sons of the family of Abraham and those among you that fear God
Here, brethren is clearly in apposition to “sons of the family of Abraham,” parallels “Men of Israel”
in 13:15, and is distinct from “you that fear God.” Again, this greeting acknowledges the bipartite
character of Paul’s audience comprising Jews and Gentiles.
The final occurrence of ἀδελφοί (13:38) at the close of the sermon (13:38–41) stands alone
without an acknowledgment of the God-fearers present. Indeed, as he closes, Paul sharpens the
focus of his appeal, with his eyes fixed solely on the Jews present: “Let it be known to you
therefore, brethren, that through this man forgiveness of sins is proclaimed to you, and by him
every one that believes is freed from everything from which you could not be freed by the law of
Moses” (Acts 13:38–39). Though Gentile God-fearers are in attendance at the synagogue, their
presence is now peripheral and they are not mentioned in the appeal of vv. 38–41. It is addressed
to those who are already living by “the law of Moses.” Paul is and will continue to be the apostle
to the Gentiles par excellence, giving priority to sharing the gospel with his Jewish brethren first
in any new setting.11
The remainder of Acts 13–14 provides a series of vignettes describing Paul and Barnabas’s
missionary activity in the cities of Asia Minor (Iconium, Lystra, and Derbe, in addition to Antioch
of Pisidia). Within this extended narrative, ἀδελφὸς is used just once, in 14:2, referring to Paul and
Barnabas. Luke describes successful evangelization in these cities, among both Jews and Gentiles
(14:1), though he and Barnabas are often met with resistance from the local Jewish authorities.
Despite having ample opportunity for the first time in the book to designate Gentile Christians
as brethren, Luke never once does so, choosing to call them disciples instead (13:52, 14:20, 21,
and 22). But the movement is gaining momentum, as Paul and Barnabas return to Antioch, leaving
behind a growing number of mixed communities of Jewish and Gentile disciples.
11
Paul’s well-known modus operandi is amply attested in Acts 13–14, 17–18, 28, and by Paul himself in passages including
Rom 1:16 and 1 Cor 9:19–23. Diaspora synagogues provided a fertile meeting place for Jews and God-fearers who, though
not full converts (i.e., proselytes), would be acquainted with Jewish scripture, practice, and teaching.
5. Ἀδελφὸς AND μαθητὴς USED

IN JUXTAPOSITION
Up to this point in Acts, Luke has used ἀδελφὸς exclusively of Jews, whether by birth or
conversion, and μαθητὴς exclusively of followers of Christ, whether Jewish or Gentile. A number
of occurrences, in which the terms are used in juxtaposition, are extremely helpful in highlighting
Luke’s intentional use.
Now in these days prophets came down from Jerusalem to Antioch. And one of them named
Agabus stood up and foretold by the Spirit that there would be a great famine over all the world;
and this took place in the days of Claudius. And the disciples determined, every one according
to his ability, to send relief to the brethren who lived in Judea; and they did so, sending it to the
elders by the hand of Barnabas and Saul. (Acts 11:27–30)
The setting is the mixed congregation of Jewish and Gentile Christians in Antioch of Syria. Luke
carefully demarcates the Antiochian Christian community as “the disciples.” The fellow-believers
to whom they are sending aid—the Jewish followers of Jesus in Judea—are “the brethren.” In
describing a gesture that sought to promote unity and solidarity between the Jewish and Gentile
branches of the church, one could assume that it would have been quite appropriate to refer to
both groups by the same designation, brethren—a designation that would only serve to affirm the
close ties of the two groups of believers. But Luke refrains from doing so. It may be that Luke’s use
of the distinct terms here to describe the two groups intentionally emphasizes their separateness,
not their unity.
But the Jews incited the devout women of high standing and the leading men of the city, and
stirred up persecution against Paul and Barnabas, and drove them out of their district. But they
shook off the dust from their feet against them, and went to Iconium. And the disciples were
filled with joy and with the Holy Spirit. Now at Iconium they entered together into the Jewish
synagogue, and so spoke that a great company believed, both of Jews and of Greeks. But the
unbelieving Jews stirred up the Gentiles and poisoned their minds against the brethren. (Acts
13:52–14:2)
Paul and Barnabas fled Antioch of Pisidia, following a successful period of ministry in Antioch and
the surrounding region (13:48-49), due to growing opposition. As Luke notes, they left behind a
group of disciples (not brethren) who were “filled with joy and the Holy Spirit.” Paul and Barnabas
continued to Iconium, entered the synagogue, and made converts among the Jews and Gentiles in
attendance but once again “the brethren” met with opposition. That brethren here speaks of Paul
and Barnabas is made clear in v. 4: “But the people of the city were divided; some sided with the
Jews, and some with the apostles,”12 that is, Paul and Barnabas.
12
In addition to these occurrences, the terms are used in close proximity in Acts 6:2–3 and 9:26–30 (both passages in which
they refer to the Jewish-Christian community in Jerusalem), 14:28–15:1 (the church at Antioch of Syria), 15:7–10 (at the
Apostolic Council), 16:1–2 (regarding Timothy), and 18:27 (Apollos, Ephesus, and Corinth), see below.
6. Ἀδελφὸς AND μαθητὴς IN ACTS 15:1–29

Acts Reference Extended Kinship: Extended Kinship: ἀδελφὸς μαθητὴς
Narrative Direct Address Brethren Disciples
14:28 Syrian Antioch community J-G
15:1 Gentile disciples at Antioch! G!
15:3 Jewish-Christians in JC
Phoenicia and Samaria (8:5,
14; 11:19)
15:7 Peter to Jerusalem JC to JC
apostles and elders
15:10 Peter re: Gentile Christians G
15:13 James to Jerusalem JC
apostles and elders
15:22 Judas and Silas JC
15:23 Jerusalem apostles and JC
elders
15:23 Gentile Christians of G!
Antioch, Syria, and
Cilicia
Ἀδελφὸς is used seven times in this section, which deals with the events leading up to the Apostolic
Council and the Council itself. Five times it refers to Jewish-Christians (three times in the narrative and
twice in speeches) and, for the first time, it refers twice to Gentile Christians (once in the narrative; once
in direct address). In addition, ἀδελφὸς and μαθητὴς are used once again in powerful juxtaposition.
The Apostolic Council is the turning point in Acts in which, to quote Luke Timothy Johnson,
“the human Church catches up with Divine initiative and formally declares itself on the side of
God’s plan to save ALL humanity” by formally legitimizing the Gentile mission.13 The parameters
of this decision will be elucidated in the letter from the Jerusalem Jewish-Christian leadership to
the Gentile Christians (15:23-29), but the pericope begins in Antioch, to which Paul and Barnabas
have returned following their ministry in Asia. Acts 14:27-28 serves as the bridge to the pericope.
And when they arrived, they gathered the church together and declared all that God had done
with them, and how he had opened a door of faith to the Gentiles.
And they remained no little time with the disciples. But some men came down from Judea and
were teaching the brethren, “Unless you are circumcised according to the custom of Moses, you
cannot be saved.” And when Paul and Barnabas had no small dissension and debate with them,
Paul and Barnabas and some of the others were appointed to go up to Jerusalem to the apostles
and the elders about this question. So, being sent on their way by the church, they passed
through both Phoenicia and Samaria, reporting the conversion of the Gentiles, and they gave
great joy to all the brethren. (Acts 14:27–15:3)
Individuals from Judea (who we later learn were actually closely associated with the Jerusalem
community, 15:24, though not official representatives) came to Antioch and taught the brethren(!)
that they must be circumcised to be saved. It seems apparent that the Gentile believers at Antioch
13
Johnson, Acts, 268.
are being addressed. The assertion by the Jewish-Christian visitors from Judea that circumcision is a
prerequisite to salvation, that is, that one must fully convert to Judaism in order to be able to accept
Jesus as Messiah and Lord, could logically be directed only to the Gentile members of the Antioch
community. For the first time, then, the Gentile disciples are called brethren. This single explicit
occurrence of ἀδελφὸς outside of Luke’s previous (and, as will be seen, subsequent) consistent and
precise use admittedly poses the greatest challenge to this study.14
What reason can be given for the change? Has Luke “slipped” into the common Christian
vernacular in which all fellow-disciples were called brethren? Such lack of care and precision at a
moment of intense importance would be very uncharacteristic of Luke.
Perhaps brethren actually refers to Paul and Barnabas and the Jewish leadership of the
congregation15 to whom the teaching was being submitted and whose responsibility it would be
to ensure that the Gentile believers were circumcised. In favor of this suggestion is the fact that it
is Paul and Barnabas who respond to the challenge in v. 2. However, the use of the second-person
plural περιτμηθῆτε and δύνασθε would indicate that the Gentile believers are being addressed
directly. And Paul and Barnabas, as the leaders of the congregation and the broader mission to the
Gentiles, would have responded to the Jewish-Christians from Judea in any case.
Perhaps Luke uses brethren here for dramatic effect, creating a frame within the chapter in which
ἀδελφὸς in 15:1 anticipates the dramatic turning point in its use at 15:23, where the Gentile disciples
will, for the first time, officially be called brethren but without the requirement of circumcision.
Ἀδελφὸς in 15:1 could then serve to capture the attention of the audience. Since Gentiles had not
yet been called brethren in the book, the surprise of calling them so at the beginning of the chapter
would have caused the listeners to sit up and take notice of the unfolding drama at the Apostolic
Council, especially since their status as disciples had just been reiterated in the preceding verse
(Acts 14:28). While the occurrence in 15:1 admittedly remains the single, stark exception to an
otherwise clear pattern, the suggestion that ἀδελφὸς in 15:1 is part of an attention-getting inclusio
does grant a degree of coherence and consistency to the passage.16
In Acts 15:3, Paul and Barnabas make their way to Jerusalem, visiting the Jewish-Christian
communities in Phoenicia and Samaria, reporting the conversion of the Gentiles, and bringing joy
to these brethren as they go. The Jewish background of the believers in Phoenicia is clear from Acts
11:19: “Now those who were scattered because of the persecution that arose over Stephen traveled
as far as Phoenicia and Cyprus and Antioch, speaking the word to none except Jews.”
But what of the Samaritans who heard the gospel from Philip in Acts 8 whom Luke refrained
from calling brethren? The difficult relationship between Jews and Samaritans in the late Second
Temple Period is well attested (cf., e.g., John 4:9–10, Matt 10:5).17 But for Luke’s purposes in Acts,
it is clear that the Samaritans fall within the larger category of “Jews.” Luke purposely divides the
14
There are no textual variants to 15:1.
15
The list of leaders at Antioch presented in Acts 13:1 indicates that they are all Jewish-Christians. In addition to Saul and
Barnabas, there is one Simeon (whose name is the Greek form of ‫ )שמעון‬from Niger; Manaen (whose name is the Greek form
of ‫)מנחם‬, a member of the court of Herod Antipas; and Lucius of Cyrene who is likely one of the Jewish-Christian founders
of the church at Antioch, as Acts 11:20 recounts: “But there were some of them, men of Cyprus and Cyrene, who on coming
to Antioch spoke to the Greeks also, preaching the Lord Jesus.”
16
My thanks are due to Jeff Staley for his suggestion that ἀδελφὸς in 15:1 has a surprise effect on those listening to the
reading of Acts.
17
Rabbinic attitudes toward the Samaritans were mixed, running the gamut from stark animosity to recognition as fellow (if
inferior) Jews; cf. A. Edersheim, The Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1971), 182–5 and
world into two camps: Abraham’s descendants and Gentiles. His primary criterion for defining
each group lies in its relationship to parent Abraham and its adherence to the law, especially in
the matter of circumcision, which is the sign of the Abrahamic covenant. The Samaritans, whose
descent went back to Abraham, who accepted the five Books of Moses as their torah, who observed
the feasts and kashrut, and who practiced circumcision, lay outside of the issue at stake in ch.
15—the need for the uncircumcised to be circumcised in order to be saved. On this basis, then, the
Samaritans legitimately fall within the category of brethren in Acts.
With the arrival in Jerusalem of Paul, Barnabas, and “some of the others” (15:2),18 the apostles
and elders recognized the importance of the matter and gathered for serious discussion. The
conservative Jewish-Christians (identified in 15:5 with those of Pharisaic background in the
Jerusalem Church and in 11:2 as “the circumcision party”)19 considered all Gentiles (indeed,
all uncircumcised individuals) to be unclean and unacceptable for table fellowship. The issue of
table fellowship had already been highlighted in the challenge to Peter following his meeting with
Cornelius: “Now the apostles and the brethren who were in Judea heard that the Gentiles also had
received the word of God. So when Peter went up to Jerusalem, the circumcision party criticized
him, saying, ‘Why did you go to uncircumcised men and eat with them?’ ” (Acts 11:1–3).20
For the conservative Jewish-Christians in Jerusalem, the solution could only be found in the full
conversion of the Gentile Christians: “But some believers who belonged to the party of the Pharisees
rose up, and said, ‘It is necessary to circumcise them, and to charge them to keep the law of Moses’ ”
(Acts 15:5).
As the apostles and elders deliberate, the key arguments are made by Peter (15:6–11), Paul and
Barnabas (15:12), and James (15:13–21). Peter addresses this esteemed body as ἄνδρες ἀδελφοί,
reminding them of the conversion of Cornelius and his household under his ministry (the first
Gentiles to believe) and how the Holy Spirit was given to them on the basis of faith without regard
to their status. But in referring to the Gentile believers in v. 10, he refers to them as disciples,
not brethren, yet another pointed juxtaposition of the two terms. Peter knows his audience. He
citations therein. That Luke in Acts regards the Samarians as Jews has been affirmed by R. J. Coggins, “The Samaritans and
Acts,” NTStud 28 (1982): 431–2.
18
Luke does not mention “the others” by name. Gal 2:1–10, Paul’s account of the Council, would indicate that Titus, a
Greek, was one of them. Paul reports that the Council did not compel Titus to be circumcised. The presence of a Gentile
believer at the Council may have posed a problem for Luke’s reconstruction of events and narrative purpose and he perhaps
intentionally avoids specifying who accompanied Paul and Barnabas. Most scholars feel Acts 15 recounts a historical event,
creatively presented by Luke to serve the greater purposes of Luke-Acts. Cf., e.g., Johnson, Acts, 258–81. Others feel that
it greatly misrepresents what happened and that Gal 2:1–10 is the only reliable source; cf. H. Koester, Introduction to the
New Testament, Vol. II: History and Literature of Early Christianity (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1982), 104–6.
19
ὁι ἐκ περιτομῆς refers in Acts and the Pauline epistles to the most conservative of the Jewish-Christian groups, that group
which demanded that the Gentile Christians fully convert to Judaism in order to be part of the church; cf. Acts 10:45; 11:2,
18; Gal 2:12; Col 4:11; Titus 1:10.
20
The uncleanness of the Gentiles is explained in tractate ‘Abodah Zarah. Jewish contact with Gentiles was prohibited—due
to the danger of contamination with idolaters—to the point that even aid to a Gentile woman in labor was forbidden (‘Abod.
Zar. 2:1). The situation was actually very complex and the rabbis held differing views on the degree to which contact could
be made. Proselytes (who corresponded to the ‫ גר‬in rabbinic literature) were considered clean since they had fully converted
to Judaism while God-fearers, since they were uncircumcised, remained unclean even though they observed a modicum of
the law. Cf. “Proselytes,” EncJud 13:1182–93 and “Strangers and Gentiles,” EncJud 15:419–21 (Jerusalem: Keter, 1972);
U. Becker, “Conversion,” NIDNTT 1:360; and K. Lake, “Proselytes and God-Fearers,” in The Beginnings of Christianity,
ed. F. J. Foakes-Jackson and K. Lake (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1966), 74–95.
is speaking to his family, his brethren, to help determine how they might relate to the growing
number of Gentile disciples of the Messiah Jesus.
And after there had been much debate, Peter rose and said to them, “Brethren, you know that in
the early days God made choice among you, that by my mouth the Gentiles should hear the word
of the gospel and believe. … Now therefore why do you make trial of God by putting a yoke upon
the neck of the disciples which neither our fathers nor we have been able to bear?” (Acts 15:7, 10)
Following Peter’s statement on the initial move of God among the Gentiles through his ministry to
Cornelius and his household, Paul and Barnabas are given the opportunity to address those present
regarding the miracles done through them among the Gentiles (15:12). At the conclusion of their
report, James, the brother of the Lord and the ascendant leader of the Jerusalem community, takes
the chair, offering the definitive assessment of the situation and his recommendation on what is to
be required of the Gentile believers. He addresses those present, the Jerusalem Jewish-Christians
and Paul and Barnabas, as brethren (15:13). Having reached a decision on the issue, the Jerusalem
community chooses to send Judas and Silas—leading men from among the brethren (15:22)—to
visit the congregation at Antioch with a letter delineating the decision of the council.
The letter, recorded in Acts 15:23–29, opens with the standard components of sender, recipient,
greeting. But even with just these opening words, the Gentile Christians realize there is very good
news within.
Acts 15:23 Οἱ ἀπόστολοι καὶ οἱ πρεσβύτεροι ἀδελποὶ τοῖς κατὰ τὴν Ἀντιόχειαν καὶ Συρίαν καὶ
Κιλικίαν ἀδελφοῖς τοῖς ἐξ ἐθνῶν χαἰρειω.
Acts 15:23 The brethren, both the apostles and the elders, to the brethren who are of the Gentiles
in Antioch and Syria and Cilicia, greeting.
The brethren sending this letter are the Jewish apostles and elders in Jerusalem. But the recipients
of the letter, formally addressed as “the brethren,” are clearly noted as Gentiles. For the first time
in the book, the uncircumcised Gentile Christians have been directly and officially addressed as
brethren by the Jewish disciples of Jesus. In a single sentence, the Gentile disciples have been
promoted in rank to a sphere of kinship with the Jewish-Christians previously not theirs. The
salutation of the letter alone heralds the positive outcome of the meeting—the acceptance of the
Gentiles as more than just coreligionists, as kindred, as family, by the Jewish-Christian community.
In his use of a simple but profound kinship term, Luke has emphasized a dramatic decision on
the part of the earliest Christians as to who constitutes the family of Abraham and, thus, the family
of God. Paul articulates this radical redefinition succinctly in theological terms in passages like
Romans 4, Ephesians 2, and Colossians 1.
7. Ἀδελφὸς AND μαθητὴς IN ACTS 15:32–28:31

Acts Reference Extended Kinship: Narrative Extended ἀδελφὸς μαθητὴς
Kinship: Direct Address Brethren Disciples
15:32 Christians at Antioch J-G
15:36 Christians in Asia Minor J-G
Acts Reference Extended Kinship: Narrative Extended ἀδελφὸς μαθητὴς

Kinship: Direct Address Brethren Disciples
16:1 Timothy J/G
16:2 Christians at Lystra and J-G
Iconium
16:40 Christians at Lydia’s G
(Philippi)
17:6 Christians at Thessalonica J-G
17:10 Christians at Thessalonica J-G
17:14 Christians at Beroea J-G
18:18 Christians at Corinth J-G
18:23 Disciples from Galatia and J-G
Phrygia
18:27 Christians at Ephesus J-G
18:27 Disciples at Corinth J-G
19:1 Disciples at Ephesus JC
19:30 Disciples at Ephesus J-G
21:4 Disciples at Tyre J-G
21:7 Christians at Ptolemais J-G
21:16 Disciples at Caesarea J-G
21:16 Mnason an early disciple JC
21:17 Jewish-Christians at JC
Jerusalem
21:20 Jerusalem Jewish- JC to JC
Christians to Paul
22:1 Paul to Jewish JC to J
audience in Jerusalem
22:5 Paul re: Jews in Damascus J
22:13 Ananias to Saul JC to JC
23:1 Paul to Sanhedrin JC to J
28:14 Puteoli Christians J-G?
28:15 Roman Christians J-G
28:17 Paul to Jewish leaders JC to J
in Rome
28:21 Roman Jews J
As we have seen, Luke’s use of ἀδελφὸς and μαθητὴς throughout the first fifteen chapters of Acts
leading up to the Apostolic Council is precise and consistent, with one exception (15:1). The final
proof of Luke’s intentional use of ἀδελφὸς to convey a historical and ecclesiological transition is
demonstrated in his subsequent use of the term. If he reverts to the limited application to Jews
alone, then its use in 15:23 was merely an epistolary nicety. If, however, he continues to apply it
to Gentile disciples after 15:23, then it would be apparent that he purposely refrained from calling
them brethren until the council had reached its decision.
Ἀδελφὸς is used twenty-four times in the second half of Acts, twice in the singular, referring
to Paul, and twenty-two times referring to groups. Fourteen times it is used of Gentile Christians
(thirteen times of mixed communities of Jewish and Gentile Christians and once of the Gentile
Christians at Philippi).21 Three times it is used of Jewish-Christians (once of the Jerusalem
community and twice of Paul). Seven times it is used of Jews who are not followers of Jesus.22
As previously in the book, Jews address each other as brother regardless of their belief, or lack
thereof, in Jesus.
As the data in the chart clearly indicates, Luke unrestrainedly calls the Gentile disciples
“brethren” from this point of the book onward, especially in the chapters immediately
following the Apostolic Council. Each community in each locality is deemed brethren. The
sudden proliferation of references to Gentile Christians as brethren in chs. 15–18 reinforces the
contention that in the first fourteen chapters Luke had purposefully refrained from designating
them such in order to heighten the impact of the decree by the Apostolic Council. Its use in these
chapters, as in the salutation of the letter itself (15:23), provides a verbal emphasis to the joy with
which the message of the acceptance of the Gentile Christians by their Jewish-Christian brethren
was shared.
Μαθητὴς is used eleven times in the second half of the book, all referring to followers of Jesus,
with a few cases of special note. The first is with regard to the disciple Timothy (Acts 16:1), son
of a Jewish mother who was a believer (πιστῆς) and a Gentile father. Timothy is well respected
by the brethren (Acts 16:2, i.e., the Jewish and Gentile Christians at Lystra and Iconium). This
juxtaposition of ἀδελφὸς and μαθητὴς delicately hints at the irregularity of Timothy’s identity, a
follower of Jesus born to a Jewish mother and a Gentile father. Paul circumcises Timothy in order
to regularize his identity, showing his loyalty to Judaism and its traditions and thereby providing
an anticipatory rebuttal to the charge levied against him in Acts 21:21: “They have been told about
you that you teach all the Jews who are among the Gentiles to forsake Moses, telling them not to
circumcise their children or observe the customs.”
Acts 18:27 provides another occurrence of ἀδελφὸς and μαθητὴς in juxtaposition in the story of
Apollos at Ephesus. Here the brethren (Priscilla, Aquila, and other leaders of the church at Ephesus)
send a letter of introduction on Apollos’s behalf to the disciples in Achaia (Corinth). These brethren
recognized early Apollos’s unique gifting as teacher and apologist (Acts 18:24–26). Perhaps the use
of disciple with regard to the Christians at Corinth hints at their need of sound instruction and the
role Apollos will play in providing it.
And when he wished to cross to Achaia, the brethren encouraged him, and wrote to the disciples
to receive him. When he arrived, he greatly helped those who through grace had believed, for
he powerfully confuted the Jews in public, showing by the scriptures that the Christ was Jesus.
(Acts 18:27–28)
21
Chapter 16 makes no explicit indication of the presence of Jewish members in the Christian community at Philippi,
though Lydia is a σεβομένη, a Gentile worshipper of God who is familiar with Jewish teaching and customs. The hospitality
shown to Paul by the communities of brethren in Puteoli and Rome (Acts 28:14, 15) would indicate that they are Christians
and, from what we know of the Roman community from Paul’s epistles, comprise both Jewish and Gentile believers.
22
Cf. Acts 22:1, the audience at the Temple Mount; 22:5, the Jews in Damascus; 23:1, 5, 6, the Sanhedrin; 28:17, 21, the
non-Christian Jews in Rome.
The group of disciples at Ephesus in Acts 19:1–7, who know of Jesus and the baptism of John, but
not of the Holy Spirit or baptism into Jesus, are called disciples, perhaps because they are clearly in
need of proper instruction and a regularization of their identity in Christ through baptism.
Likewise, in Acts 19:9, when Paul leaves the synagogue and moves to the hall of Tyrannus, he
takes the disciples with him, the focus of the activity being instruction. In these three cases (18:27;
19:1; 19:9), then, the pedagogic need of the disciples in various locations of ministry in Asia and
Europe is highlighted by the use of μαθητὴς.
8. COMPARATIVE USE OF ἀδελφὸς

At this juncture, a brief look at the use of ἀδελφὸς in Greek and Jewish literature might be of help
in addressing the questions of to whom Luke is writing and for whom the application of the term
ἀδελφὸς to the Gentiles would have had the most impact. Although a detailed examination of the
use of the term in Hellenistic literature is beyond the scope of this chapter, a brief review of its use
in contemporary and religious literature to designate nonfamilial relationships will help to answer
this question.
8.1. Ἀδελφὸς in Classical Literature

Plato (Menex. 239a), Philo (Spec. 2.79–80), and Josephus (Ant. 10.201; 7.371) use the term to
designate compatriots. Xenophon uses it of friends (Anab. 7.2.25; 38). It is used in the salutations
of letters (P.Par. 48), as a term of address between individuals of similar rank (OCI 138: 3; 168: 26;
Josephus, Ant. 13.45; 126), to designate colleagues and associates (PTeb 1.12) and fellow members
of a college (IG 14: 956). Finally, it is used of members of religious societies (Vet. Val. 4.11),
including the Mithras cult (P.Par. 42.1; cf. PTaur. 1.1.20; P.Par. 20) and the mystery religions (APF
13: 39, 212).
8.2. ‫ אח‬in the Hebrew Bible

In addition to designating physical brothers and kindred, Hebrew ‫ אח‬is used to designate fellow
tribesmen and, hence, Israelites (cf. Exod 2:11, 4:18; Num 20:3). It often occurs in apposition to
‫( בני ישראל‬cf. Lev 25:46; Deut 3:18) and in contrast to ‫( נכרי‬foreigner, a temporary resident in Israel,
Deut 17:15). While Deut 24:14 distinguishes between the ‫ אח‬and the ‫( גר‬the sojourner in Israel, a
permanent, non-Israelite resident in the land), the Israelite is required to treat the ‫ גר‬like a fellow
countryman. ‫ אח‬is often used interchangeably with ‫( רע‬neighbor, e.g., Lev 19:17; 2 Sam 3:8; Jer
9:3; Ps 35:15 and cf. Lev 19:18–19 with Exod 20:16). The LXX translates ‫ אח‬with ἀδελφὸς and ‫רע‬
with πλησιον; ‫ גר‬is rendered by προσήλυτος.
8.3. ‫ אח‬in the Dead Sea Scrolls

In the sectarian literature from Qumran, the members of the community are designated “brothers”
(e.g., The Rule of the Community, 1QS vi 10, 22). Brother and neighbor are used interchangeably
(e.g., The Damascus Document, CD xx 18) and love for the brother is constantly demanded.
However, the term is confined solely to the members of the ‫ יחד‬and is not applied to fellow Jews
outside of the community, since the ‫ יחד‬alone constitutes the “true Israel.”
8.4. ‫ אח‬in Rabbinic Literature

The rabbis departed from the Hebrew Bible’s use of ‫אח‬/ἀδελφὸς and ‫רע‬/πλησίον by distinguishing
between the brother and the neighbor, as W. Günther notes:
National and religious community were no longer considered as one as in the OT. Brother was
the adherent to Judaism in contrast to the stranger living in the land who did not belong to the
people of God. The full proselyte [OT: ‫ ]גר‬was also a brother. By contrast the neighbor was the
inhabitant who was a non-Israelite.23
8.5. Ἀδελφὸς in Acts 1–15

As we have seen, Luke uses the term ἀδελφὸς in Acts 1:1–15:22 to designate adherents to Judaism,
whether by birth or conversion, and apparently purposely refrains from following the NT
application of the term to Gentile Christians (in cases where it would be possible to do so) until
Acts 15:23. Since he does not confine the term to a single expression of Judaism, it is unlikely that
he is following the Essene use of the term. The use of the term in Greek religious literature does
not particularly inform its use in Acts.24 It does appear, however, that Luke is aware of the use of
the term in the Hebrew Bible and, perhaps, the subsequent rabbinic use. He knows that Jews are
brethren, that proselytes (who are presumed to be circumcised)25 are included in the designation,
but that God-fearers (who are uncircumcised) fall outside of it.
The conditions associated with the application of the term to the Gentiles in 15:23 shed
additional light on its use in Acts. The acceptance of the Gentiles as brethren by the Jerusalem
community was not a totally unqualified acceptance. While the Gentile brethren were not required
to be circumcised or observe the Sabbaths and feasts, they were required to observe certain dietary/
ritual purity laws:
For it has seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us to lay upon you no greater burden than these
necessary things: that you abstain from what has been sacrificed to idols and from blood and
from what is strangled and from unchastity. If you keep yourselves from these, you will do well.
Farewell. (Acts 15:28–29)
These requirements present a tantalizing paradox to the acceptance of the Gentiles as brethren
by the Jerusalem community. Three of the four stipulations hearken back to Leviticus 17 and 18
where the same prohibitions are given to the ‫גר‬, the stranger in the land, the sojourner in the
midst of Israel (i.e., those regarding blood, meat from strangled animals, and unchastity; Lev
23
Cf. W. Günther, “Brother,” NIDNTT 1:255, and, e.g., m. Demai 6:8–9.
24
Cadbury notes regarding the use of ἀδελφὸς in Greek literature:
“It is interesting that a like usage within Gentile religious communities seems to be evidenced by an increasing number of
documentary sources. It means that a usage indigenous in Jewish Christianity would seem entirely congenial in the Greek
lands as the gospel spread. It is unnecessary to regard it as a Gentile coinage and as, therefore, used anachronistically
in the earliest parts of Acts.” H. J. Cadbury, “Names for Christians in Acts,” in K. Lake and H. J. Cadbury, eds, The
Beginnings of Christianity: The Acts of the Apostles, Vol. V: Additional Notes to the Commentary. (1933: 379)
25
Cf. Becker, NIDNTT 1:360.
17:10–14; 18:6–18).26 Since ‫ גר‬was later translated προσήλυτος, it would appear that the decision
of the council promoted the Gentile believers to a category similar to that of the proselytes
but without the requirement of circumcision. They were deemed “clean” on the basis of their
acceptance by God as Peter states at the council: “And he [God] made no distinction between
us and them, but cleansed their hearts by faith” (Acts 15:9), not on the basis of circumcision.
Evidently, then, the acceptance of Christ by the Gentiles necessitated the creation of a new
category of brother. But what of the concurrent requirements to abstain from idolatry and
immorality and to partake only of ritually slaughtered meat? Still underlying this newly created
category of clean, uncircumcised Gentile brethren was the practical problem of how to be able
to have table fellowship with devout, ritually observant Jewish believers who, though they might
be able to accept the Gentile as their brother, observed the laws of kashrut. The solution lay in
requiring of the Gentile Christians those same things that enabled the ‫גר‬, the foreigner in the midst
of ancient Israel, to live there.
8.6. Ἀδελφὸς in the New Testament

Brother is freely applied to all members of the Christian community, whether Jewish or Gentile
(e.g., 1 Cor 15:58; Phil 4:1; 1 John 3:16; Heb 2:11), as well as to Jews by Jews (e.g., Rom 9:3)
in the rest of the New Testament. Jesus redefined who his brethren are—those who hear and do
God’s word (Mark 3:31–35 and parallels), and for Paul, Jesus ranks as the “firstborn among many
brethren” (Rom 8:29). In the New Testament’s use of ἀδελφὸς to designate believers in Christ,
“There can be no doubt that … ἀδελφὸς is one of the religious titles of the people of Israel taken
over by the Christian community.”27 Since the other New Testament documents were composed
after the Apostolic Council, we may say that the use of brethren in them is consistent with the use
of the term introduced by Luke at Acts 15:23.
9. CONCLUSION
This chapter has traced the use of the term ἀδελφὸς in Acts in an effort to determine the religious
and/or ethnic affiliation of the referent. Άδελφὸς is a term that denotes a horizontal relationship
between human beings. A parallel examination of the term μαθητὴς was undertaken. This term, in
contrast to ἀδελφὸς, reflects a vertical relationship between an individual and God. The two studies
together suggest the following conclusions:
1. Luke uses the term ἀδελφὸς in Acts 1:1–15:22 to refer to individuals who are Jews either by
birth or conversion. In Acts 1:1–15:22 Luke is following the contemporary Jewish use (which
was based on the Hebrew Bible, Septuagint and rabbinic usages).
26
Cf. Haenchen, Acts, 449. Scholars disagree as to whether these stipulations were actually advanced at the Council, since
Paul makes no mention of them in Gal 2:1–10. It has been suggested that they form part of a later pronouncement by James,
perhaps communicated by letters carried by emissaries from James, such as the men described in Gal 2:11–14; cf., e.g., H.
D. Betz, Galatians (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1979) and Haenchen, Acts, 464–71.
27
H. von Soden, “ἀδελφὸς,” TDNT 1:145.
2. Although Luke has ample opportunity to designate Gentile Christians as brethren from Acts
11:19 on, but for the definite exception at 15:1, he does not.
3. Instead, the Gentile Christians are most often designated μαθηταὶ, a term that denotes
adherence to a particular religious leader or movement and that, in Acts, always refers to
Christians, whether Jew or Gentile, and never to non-Christian Jews.
4. Beginning with Acts 15:23, the decision of the Apostolic Council to accept Gentiles into the
church without conversion to Judaism, Luke freely designates Gentile Christians as brethren,
thereby departing from contemporary Jewish usage.
5. The foregoing suggests that Luke uses the term ἀδελφὸς in the Acts of the Apostles with a
Jewish-Christian audience in mind. The application of the term to the Gentiles from 15:23
on, while good news for the Gentile Christians, would have been heard especially intently
by Jewish-Christian ears. Its use would have challenged the Jewish-Christian to reconsider
who his “family” was and to broaden its scope to include the Gentile Christians. Luke would
imply that while Jewish-Christians were previously willing to acknowledge that the Gentile
Christians as disciples had a similar, vertical relationship with God as the Jewish believers in
Jesus, the acceptance of them as brethren opened up the realm of relationship between Jewish
and Gentile Christians on a horizontal plane. The old barriers of clean and unclean were
removed and the way was opened for the most central type of fellowship to be pursued—the
celebration of the Lord’s supper around the table, as long as the food served was kosher.
Thus, through the use of the term ἀδελφὸς, Luke subtly and accurately highlights the
dramatic shift in kinship boundaries adopted by the earliest Jewish-Christians at the Apostolic
Council and expressed in kingship language: the bold redefinition of the family of Abraham
to include the Gentile believers in Christ.
APPENDIX 11.1 A Vertical Outline of Every Occurrence of the Terms ἀδελφὸς (“brother”) and
μαθητὴς (“disciple”) in the Acts of the Apostles
Key: J = Jewish nonbelievers in Jesus, JC = Jewish Christians
G = Gentile believers, J-G = Jewish and Gentile believers, < > = juxtaposition of the two terms
1:14 Jesus’ brothers— JC

physical relations
1:15 Post-ascension JC
community in
Jerusalem
1:16 Peter to the 120 in JC
Jerusalem
2:29 International Jewish J
audience at Pentecost
2:37 Audience to Peter and JC
the apostles
3:17 Peter’s audience at the J
Temple
3:22 Jewish audience of J 6:1 Hellenists vs. Hebrews JC
Deut 18:15 in Jerusalem
6:3 The “12” call the JC < > 6:2 The “12” address the JC
disciples “brethren” body of disciples
6:7 Number of disciples JC
increased
7:2 Stephen to Jewish J
leaders
7:13 Joseph to his family— J
physical relations
7:23 Moses’ “brethren”— J
“the sons of Israel”
fellow Israelites
fellow Israelites
7:37 Jewish audience of J
Deut 18:15
9:1 Saul opposes disciples JC
9:10 Ananias—a disciple at JC
Damascus
9:17 Ananias to Saul JC
9:19 Saul with disciples at JC
Damascus
9:25 Damascus disciples aid JC
Saul’s escape
9:26 Paul tries to join JC
disciples at Jerusalem
9:30 Jerusalem believers aid JC < > 9:26 Jerusalem does not JC
Saul’s escape believe Paul is disciple
9:36 Tabitha at Joppa JC
9:38 Disciples at Joppa send JC
for Peter
10:23 Joppa brethren JC
accompany Peter to
Cornelius
11:1 Apostles and brethren JC
in Judea heard
re: Cornelius
11:12 The six who JC
accompanied Peter to
Cornelius
11:26 Disciples first called J-G
“Christians”
11:29 Judean brethren to JC < > 11:29 Antioch disciples to J-G
receive aid send aid
12:2 James brother of JC
John—physical
relation
12:17 Peter: “Tell to James JC
and brethren”
(continued)
APPENDIX 11.1 A Vertical Outline of Every Occurrence of the Terms ἀδελφὸς (“brother”) and
μαθητὴς (“disciple”) in the Acts of the Apostles (continued)
13:15 Paul to synagogue J
leaders—Antioch of
Pisidia
audience
audience
14:2 Opposition to Paul and JC < > 13:52 Iconium “disciples” J-G
Barnabas filled with joy
14:20 Disciples at Lystra J-G
14:21 Disciples at Derbe J-G
14:22 Disciples at Lystra, J-G
Antioch, Iconium
15:1 Disciples at Syrian G! < > 14:28 Disciples at Syrian J-G
Antioch Antioch
15:3 Phoenician and JC
Samaritan brethren
15:7 Peter to Jerusalem JC < > 15:10 Peter re: Gentile G
assembly believers
15:13 James to Jerusalem JC
assembly
15:22 Judas and Silas from JC
among brethren
15:23 Jerusalem leadership JC
15:23 “Brethren among G!
Gentiles at Antioch”
15:32 Judas and Silas exhort J-G
brethren at Antioch
15:33 Antioch Brethren J-G
commend Judas and
Silas
15:36 Paul to visit brethren J-G
in Asia Minor
15:40 Brethren at Antioch J-G
commend Paul and
Silas
16:2 Brethren at Lystra and J-G < > 16:1 Timothy J/G
Iconium re: Timothy
16:40 Brethren at Lydia’s J-G
(Philippi)
17:6 Brethren at J-G
Thessalonica
17:10 Brethren at J-G
Thessalonica
17:14 Brethren at Beroea J-G
18:18 Brethren at Corinth J-G
18:23 Disciples from Galatia J-G
and Phrygia
18:27 Brethren at Ephesus J-G < > 18:27 Brethren write to J-G
encourage Apollos Achaia disciples
20:30 Future disciples in Asia J-G
Minor
21:4 Disciples at Tyre J-G
21:7 Brethren at Ptolemais J-G
21:16 Disciples at Caesarea J-G
21:16 Mnason of Cyprus JC
(probably)
21:17 Brethren at Jerusalem JC
21:20 Jerusalem Jewish JC
Christians to Paul
22:1 Paul to Jewish J
audience in Jerusalem
22:5 Paul re: Damascus J
Jews
22:13 Ananias to Saul JC
23:1 Paul to Sanhedrin J
28:14 Paul to brethren in J-G
Puteoli
28:15 Paul to brethren at J-G
Rome
28:17 Paul to Roman Jewish J
leaders
28:21 Roman Jews to Paul J
10. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Betz, H. D. Galatians. Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1979.
Brown, C., ed. New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology. 4 vols. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan,
1975–85.
Brown, R. E. “Not Jewish Christianity and Gentile Christianity but Types of Jewish/Gentile Christianity.” CBQ
45 (1983): 74–9.
Brown, R. E., and J. P. Meier. Antioch and Rome. New York: Paulist Press, 1983.
Cadbury, H. J. “Names for Christians in Acts.” Pages 383–6 in Additional Notes to the Commentary. Vol.
5 of The Beginnings of Christianity: The Acts of the Apostles. Edited by K. Lake and H. J. Cadbury.
London: Macmillan, 1933.
Coggins, R. J. “The Samaritans and Acts.” NTStud 28 (1982): 423–34.
Edersheim, A. The Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1971.
Encyclopedia Judaica Jerusalem. Jerusalem: Keter, 1972.
Haenchen, E. The Acts of the Apostles. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1971.
Johnson, L. T. The Acts of the Apostles. SP 5. Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2006.
Kittel, G., and G. Friedrich, eds. Theological Dictionary of the New Testament. Translated by G. W. Bromiley.
10 vols. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1964–76.
Koester, H. History and Literature of Early Christianity. Vol. 2 of Introduction to the New Testament.
Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1982.
Lake, K. “Proselytes and God-Fearers.” Pages 74–96 in The Beginnings of Christianity. Edited by F. J. Foakes-
Jackson and K. Lake. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1966.
Snyder, Julie A. Language and Identity in Ancient Narratives: The Relationship between Speech Patterns and
Social Context in the Acts of the Apostles, Acts of John, and Acts of Philip. WUNT 2. Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 2014.
Strack, H. L., and P. Billerbeck. Kommentar zum Neuen Testament aus Talmud und Midrash. Munich: Beck, 1924.
CHAPTER TWELVE
How Much of Israel Will Be

Saved—a Remnant or All
of Israel? A Fresh Look at
Romans 9–11
STEPHEN J. PFANN
1. THE QUESTIONS
This chapter will look at Paul’s view on the question whether “all” of Israel will be saved or only
a “remainder” by studying the relevant passages in Romans 9–11. It will focus on the word “only”
that modern translations have added to Isa 10:22, quoted in Rom 9:27, but which is absent in the
MT/LXX of the verse.
What does Paul mean in Rom 9:27 when he quotes Isa 10:22 from the Septuagint?
Rom. 9:27 Ἠσαΐας δὲ κράζει ὑπὲρ τοῦ Ἰσραήλ· ἐὰν ᾖ ὁ ἀριθμὸς τῶν υἱῶν Ἰσραὴλ ὡς ἡ ἄμμος τῆς
θαλάσσης, τὸ ὑπόλειμμα σωθήσεται·
Rom. 9:27 And Isaiah cries out concerning Israel: “Even though the number of the sons of Israel
will be as the sand of the sea, the remainder will be saved.” (author’s translation)
Isa. 10:22 καὶ ἐὰν γένηται ὁ λαὸς Ισραηλ ὡς ἡ ἄμμος τῆς θαλάσσης, τὸ κατάλειμμα αὐτῶν σωθήσεται
Isa 10:22 For if your people, Israel, will be as the sand of the sea, the remainder of them will be
preserved. (author’s translation)
What does Paul mean in Rom 11:26 when he says, “So all Israel will be saved”? Who comprises
“all Israel,” bearing in mind the fact that the LXX Greek of the second century bce had not fully
developed a theology around “salvation” other than that God would preserve his people and keep
them and their inheritance from harm if they followed his covenant?
Rom. 11:26 καὶ οὕτως πᾶς Ἰσραὴλ σωθήσεται
Rom. 11:26 and thus all Israel will be saved
2. THE ORIGINAL TEXT OF ISAIAH 10:22

The Hebrew of Isa 10:22 reads:
‫כִּ י ִאם־יִ ֽהיֶה ע ַּֽמָך יִ ֽשׂ ָראֵ ל כּֽ חֹול הַ ּיָם ֽשׁאָ ר יָשּׁוב‬
The transmission and translation of three terms— ‫כִּ י ִאם‬, ‫ ֽשׁאָ ר‬and ‫— יָשּׁוב‬deserve particular
attention in order to understand the meaning of this verse in its original context, in its later use by
Paul, and subsequently by post-Reformation Christianity. In its original context, the verse spoke of
the return of the survivors of Israel to God and to his land (cf. Lev 26:40–42) following the Assyrian
conquest in the eighth century bce. ‫ כִּ י ִאם‬should be read as a positive comparative, “surely, indeed,
just as, for if,” rather than a negative, which would be in tension with the promise to Abraham to
which it refers (Gen 22:17). ‫ ְשׁאָ ר‬is best translated in its original context as “remainder, rest, (or
survivors),” not as “remnant,” which one might more appropriately expect to be a translation of
the same word’s diminutive form ‫שׁאֵ ִריח‬. ְ 1 ‫ יָשּׁוב‬means “will return” and conveys two actions in this
text. The first is turning to God (v. 21), which leads to the second, the return to their land and
inheritance (v. 22). Thus, ‫ ְשׁאָ ר יָשּׁוב‬is best translated, “the rest will return.” In light of this, the verse
would function as a Hebraic qal vehomer (like the Latin a fortiori principle of logic), which is best
translated as: “For if your people,2 Israel, will be as the sand of the sea, [as God has promised, then
he will certainly, all the more, ensure that] the rest will return.”
Note that the word “only,” so prominent in all modern translations, is completely lacking in
the MT, LXX, and NT quotations of this verse. How did “only,” which has exerted such power
on the modern interpretations of this verse and Paul’s use of it, creep into the post-Reformation
translations? It first appears in Rom 9:27 in Martin Luther’s German translation of the New
Testament (1522) and later in his translation of Isaiah (1534). We might suggest that Luther,
disappointed with the lack of response by the Jews of his day to the Gospel, felt such a limitation
of the number of Jews who would return was, in fact, appropriate. The word continues to occur in
all editions of Luther’s translation until this very day.3
Remarkably, no other Bible translations of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries followed
Luther, not even the Geneva Bible (1598), which perhaps would have been the most likely to do so.
Rather, the Geneva Bible, which was translated from the original languages, uses the positive “yet”
in italic font to indicate an addition to the text, rather than the limiting “only”: “For though thy
people, O Israel, be as the sands of the sea, yet a remnant of them shall return.” The original King
James version (1611) follows the Geneva Bible, though not using italics for the inserted “yet”: “For
though thy people Israel be as the sand of the sea, yet a remnant of them shall return.”4 The English
1
This distinction was preferred already in 1903 by Marcus Jastrow, Hebrew, Aramaic, English Dictionary (Brooklyn, NY: P.
Shalom, 1967), 2:1509, s.v. ‫ ֽשׁאָ ר‬as “Remainder, rest” and ‫“ ְשׁאֵ ִריח‬Remnant.” Regrettably, although Koehler and Baumgartner
read ‫ ֽשׁאָ ר‬as does Jastrow, they make a sole exception, surely erroneous, for its translation in Isa 10:21 where they read
it as “remnant”! Cf. Ludwig Koehler, Walter Baumgartner, and Johann Stamm, Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon to the Old
Testament (Leiden: Brill, 2001), s.v. ‫שׁאָ ר‬.
ֽ
2
Cf. also Lev 26:40–42: “If you repent of your sins and the sins of your fathers, then I will remember my covenant with
Jacob and Isaac and with Abraham, and I will remember the land.”
3
The Coverdale Bible (1535), likely influenced by the Latin, translated: “For though thy people (o Israel) be as the sonde
of the see, yet shal but the remnaunt of them only conuerte vnto him,” as did the Bishop’s Bible (1568): “For though thy
people O Israel be as the sande of the sea, yet shal the remnaunt of them conuert vnto him.”
4
It is interesting to note that the NKJV (1982) follows its parent version translation by using “yet.”
HOW MUCH OF ISRAEL WILL BE SAVED? ROMANS 9–11 179
Revised Version (1881–5) and the American Standard Version are the last English Bibles to not
include “only,” translating Rom 9:27 as follows: “If the number of the children of Israel be as the
sand of the sea, it is the remnant that shall be saved.”
The addition of “only” in subsequent modern translations (remembering that it is not found in either
the Hebrew or the Greek) can next be traced to the German and French translations of John Nelson
Darby and his students (between 1867 and 1890) and their influence upon subsequent translators.5 It
was not until the last decade of the nineteenth century, following Darby’s death, that virtually every
new English edition from that time onward included the word “only” in both Isa 10:22 and Rom 9:27.
How can we account for such a widespread translation of a word that is not present in the text?
I would suggest that since the end of the nineteenth century the impact of Darby (and subsequently
Schofield) on the world of theology and Bible translation was so powerful that the rest of the
translators followed suit. Having been informed by Darby’s translation, they did not read and
understand the original Hebrew and Greek but let their theological tendencies and eschatological
preferences influence their translations.
3. WHO COMPRISES “ALL ISRAEL” IN ROMANS 11:26?

Three main possibilities generally are considered when trying to identify the constituents of “all
Israel” in Rom 11:26: (1) the physical descendants of Abraham, whether at the moment of Jesus’
return or throughout time, regardless of their belief in Jesus, (2) the “spiritual” Israel made up
solely of the Jewish and Gentile followers of Jesus, or (3) a combination of (1) and (2).
Paul is addressing a difficult situation at Rome, from which the Jewish-Christians had been
exiled by Claudius in 49 ce.6 At that time, there were between twenty thousand and thirty thousand
Jews in Rome. Scholars agree that the expulsion did not apply to the entire Jewish community but
was only partial and was limited mainly to Jews who were followers of one “Chrestus,” a name
commonly understood by New Testament scholars to refer to Christ Jesus.7 Whether these Jewish-
Christians were from a single synagogue or part of a larger movement containing many synagogues
is debated. However, it is assumed by many scholars that Jews and God-fearers from within the
synagogues came to hear about Jesus in a synagogue context.
The expulsion was rescinded upon the death of Claudius when his successor Nero invited the
Jewish-Christians to return to Rome. The presence of Prisca and Aquila in Rome at the time of the
writing of the Epistle to the Romans is an indication that the edict was nullified and that the members
of the Roman Jewish-Christian community had returned (Rom 16:3–4). It is also understood by
many scholars that prior to the expulsion, most of Rome’s Christians were connected with the
synagogue. Prior to the expulsion, both Jews and Gentile God-fearers kept the Jewish customs such
as Sabbath observance and kashrut, though not requiring circumcision of the Gentile Christians.
During the period that the Jewish-Christians were expelled from Rome, the zeal of the Gentile
5
For some unknown reason, unlike his French and German translations, Darby’s English translation of Rom 9:27 does not
include the word “only.” He does include the word “only” in Isa 10:22.
6
Cf. Suetonius, Life of Claudius 25, “Since the Jews constantly made disturbances at the instigation of Chrestus, he [the
Emperor Claudius] expelled them from Rome” (49 ce).
7
Cf., e.g., Jerome Murphy-O’Connor, Paul: A Critical Life (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), 147–8, and F. F. Bruce, Paul,
Apostle of the Heart Set Free (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2000), 132, and discussions therein.
Christians to preserve these Jewish customs and practices waned. This is reflected in Romans 14
and 15 where Paul addresses the debate over observing the Sabbath versus the Lord’s Day and
the question of eating non-kosher food versus refraining from it (“eat vegetables”), questions that
arose upon the return of the Jewish-Christians and the need to reintegrate the congregation and
its practice. In the Epistle to the Romans, Paul addressed both constituencies and endeavored to
restore unity with fresh approaches to their problems.
In Romans 9–11 we are faced with the need for Paul to build bridges between these groups whose
once congenial relations seemed to be strained. His visit, planned for ca. 56/7, follows shortly after
the return of the Roman Jewish-Christians from their “exile.” Sufficient time had elapsed for the
changes in leadership roles and congregational culture to have manifested themselves and caused
problems for the returnees in particular.
Paul’s letter builds up to this point, confirming in Romans 1–8 the universal appeal of God
to all humankind, especially in Romans 8 where the mystical experience of being “in Christ” is
emphasized. It is this that is a binding force among all Christians, both Jew and Gentile alike.
Paul wants to reaffirm, however, the central role of the Jews in God’s purposes. Thus he writes
Romans 9–11, not as an afterthought but rather as the climax of the letter. Here, he endeavors
to tackle the most difficult problem and mystery facing the early church: the rejection of Jesus
by the majority of the Jews, his acceptance by the Gentiles, and the faithfulness of God to his
promises.
In these chapters Paul defines the borders between the Jews and Gentiles in God’s economy. Although
all are beckoned by God to become his children, there remains an important role that Judaism plays in
spreading the message of God in Rome and the rest of the world. Paul outright challenges the idea that
Judaism now was no longer in itself able to tap into God’s salvation. This was falsely perceived because
the appearance of Jesus as the Christ was thought by some to replace the age-old Jewish calling and
its practices, established many centuries before. On the contrary, he affirms the ongoing value of the
unique gifts and privileges of the Jewish people, whom he calls his “brethren.”
For I could wish that I myself were anathema from Christ for my brethren’s sake, my kinsmen
according to the flesh: who are Israelites; whose is the adoption, and the glory, and the covenants,
and the giving of the law, and the service of God, and the promises; whose are the fathers, and of
whom is Christ as concerning the flesh, who is over all, God blessed for ever. Amen. (Rom 9:3–5)
Paul is challenging the increasing hubris of the Gentile leaders within the church in Romans 9–11.
In fact he states in Rom 11:29: “For the gifts and the call of God are irrevocable” (ἀμεταμέλητα γὰρ
τὰ χαρίσματα καὶ ἡ κλῆσις τοῦ θεοῦ). In its original context Paul was applying it exclusively to the
role, calling, gifts, and privileges of historic Israel and the Jewish people.
Paul presents the relationship between God and the rest of the world as being carried out through
Israel, which is presented as a tree from which the Gentiles may draw nourishment and into which
they can be grafted. This metaphor is linked to the promise of God to Abraham and his descendants
that they would become a blessing to all nations (Gen 22:18).
4. BUT HOW ARE THE JEWS THAT ARE BLIND SAVED?

Paul also uses this chapter to provide a reason as to why the Jewish people are not so quick to
embrace Jesus as the Messiah. They are depicted as being in a temporary blindness that has them
standing aside while the Gentiles are being grafted in. This blindness is not fatal nor is it permanent.
On the contrary, it is a blindness that allows the Gentiles to find salvation with their own eyes.
Because of this Paul must stress that not only are the gifts and the call of God irrevocable but also
that all Israel will be saved (but with some exceptions, see below).
Paul’s understanding of the world is, in many ways, rooted in his Pharisaic background, to
which he refers and affirms in a number of his epistles (e.g., Phil 3 and 2 Cor 11, and see Luke’s
depictions in Acts 23 and 26), and in which he consistently states that he is a Pharisee (Phil 3:5–6)
and knowledgeable in particular about the Law.
Though I myself have reason for confidence in the flesh also. If any other man thinks he has
reason for confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of
Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews; as to the law a Pharisee; as to zeal a
persecutor of the church, as to righteousness under the law blameless. (Phil 3:4–6)
It is in this vein that we need to understand many of Paul’s statements including that “all Israel will
be saved.” Our best parallel to that particular statement is found in Mishnah, Tractate Sanhedrin 10:
‫כָּל יִ ֽשׂ ָראֵ ל יֵשׁ לָהֶ ם חֵ לֶק לָעֹולָם הַ בָּ א‬
All Israelites have a share in the world to come, as it is said, “Your people also shall be all
righteous, they shall inherit the land forever; the branch of my planting, the work of my hands,
that I may be glorified” (Is. 60:21). (m. Sanh. 10.1.A-B)
The phrase “all Israel will be saved” found in Rom 11:26 parallels, or perhaps even draws on, a
rabbinic decision that reflects on the same question.8 Such a decision would be rendered by a group
of rabbis who debate and arrive at a final decision ex cathedra (seated on the seat of Moses; cf. Matt
23:2–3: “The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat; so practice and observe whatever they
tell you, but not what they do; for they preach, but do not practice”). The final decision becomes
a hoq (statute). To this are attached various contextual stipulations and exceptions, which together
are known as mishpatim. The hoq and the mishpatim are binding upon all Jews (cf. Matt 23:3
above).9
For rabbinic Judaism, the debate and decision on this very question of whether all Israel would
be saved was already enacted and settled by the late first to early second century as recorded in
m. Sanh. 10. While m. Sanh. 10.1.A–B preserves the hoq, the mishpatim that follow and fill out
the rest of the chapter provide the conditions that will preclude an Israelite individual or a family
from entering the afterlife. A brief sample of the list of exceptions shows the variety, intensity, and
thoroughness of the rabbis’ debate.
8
Malcolm Lowe, “And All Israel Shall Be Saved (Romans 11:26),” Inside Israel Newsletter 14.5 (1993): 3. The author of this
article has informed me that the connection was already noticed by Hugo Grotius (1583–1645) in his massive commentary
on the New Testament, Annotationes in Novum Testamentum. Grotius began his comments on “All Israel will be saved” with
the words “Alludit ad dictum Hebraeorum, omnem Israëlitam partem habiturum in futuro saeculo” (“It alludes to the saying
of the Hebrews, every Israelite will have a part in the future age”).
9
This method of law-making is similar to the process of law-making known from the Sanhedrin of Second Temple Judaism
and from the account of the practices of the Essenes from Qumran. The final decision is known as a din in Rabbinic Law.
A. All Israelites have a share in the world to come,

B. as it is said, Your people also shall be all righteous, they shall inherit the land forever; the
branch of my planting, the work of my hands, that I may be glorified (Isa 60:21).
C. And these are the ones who have no portion in the world to come:
D. (1) He who says, the resurrection of the dead is a teaching which does not derive from
the Torah, (2) and the Torah does not come from Heaven; and (3) an Epicurean.
E. R. Aqiba says, “Also: He who reads in heretical books,
F. and he who whispers over a wound and says, I will put none of the diseases upon you
which I have put on the Egyptians, for I am the Lord who heals you” (Exod 15:26).
G. Abba Saul says, “Also: he who pronounces the divine Name as it is spelled out.”
A. Three kings and four ordinary folk have no portion in the world to come.
B. Three kings: Jeroboam, Ahab, and Manasseh.
C. R. Judah says, “Manasseh has a portion in the world to come,10
D. since it is said, And he prayed to him and he was entreated of him and heard his
supplication and brought him again to Jerusalem into his kingdom”11 (m. Sanh. 10.1C–G,
2.A–D).
The practice of placing a general law or truth/truism before a list of stipulations is not unfamiliar
to Paul, who utilizes it, for example, in Galatians 5 where he writes:
But I say, walk by the Spirit, and do not gratify the desires of the flesh. For the desires of the flesh
are against the Spirit, and the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh; for these are opposed to
each other, to prevent you from doing what you would. But if you are led by the Spirit you are
not under the law. (Gal. 5:16–17)
This is followed immediately by the stipulations:
Now the works of the flesh are plain: fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery,
enmity, strife, jealousy, anger, selfishness, dissension, party spirit, envy, drunkenness, carousing,
and the like. I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things shall not inherit
the kingdom of God. (Gal. 5:19–21)12
Paul can envision a follower of Christ being separated from their eternal inheritance through
constant, practiced sin (“works of the flesh”). He, though, like m. Sanhedrin in the case of Manasseh,
can also envision a restoration from sin or separation (cf. 1 Cor 5:5 and more importantly, Rom
11:23–29) when true repentance has been made.
10
Rabbi Judah HaNasi, codifier of the Mishnah.
11
Cf. 2 Chr 33:13: “He prayed to him, and God received his entreaty and heard his supplication and brought him again
to Jerusalem into his kingdom. Then Manasseh knew that the Lord was God.” In other words, God heard and accepted
Manasseh’s repentance (in spite of the egregious nature of his offenses before God).
12
A parallel may be drawn between MSanhedrin’s “Epicurean” and Paul’s “drunkenness and carousing.”
5. CONCLUSION
I would suggest the following three conclusions. First, the phrase “only a remnant” has been read
in a limiting way for far too long. “Remainder” or “rest” is a better translation of ‫ ְשׁאָ ר‬and the word
“only” does not appear in the Hebrew or Greek texts. Rom 9:26 is better understood as a positive
proclamation of God’s faithfulness to keep his promise to Abraham that his seed will be as the sands
of the sea and, if so, God will certainly preserve the remainder of Israel.
Second, Paul’s Epistle to the Romans speaks to the delicate situation that arose in Rome upon the
return of the Jewish-Christian community following their expulsion by Claudius. A shift in power
roles and practices led to tension, resentment, and judgmental attitudes. Paul seeks to help restore
unity with a vision of Israel as a single tree comprised of Jews and into which Gentile believers are
grafted through Jesus the Messiah.
But if some of the branches were broken off, and you, a wild olive shoot, were grafted in
their place to share the rich root of the olive tree, do not boast over the branches. If you do
boast, remember that it is not you that support the root, but the root that supports you. You
will say, “Branches were broken off so that I might be grafted in.” That is true. They were
broken off because of their unbelief, but you stand only through faith. So do not become
proud, but stand in awe. For if God did not spare the natural branches, perhaps he will not
spare you. Note then the kindness and the severity of God: severity toward those who have
fallen, but God’s kindness toward you, provided you continue in his kindness; otherwise
you also will be cut off. And even those of Israel, if they do not persist in unbelief, will be
grafted in, for God has the power to graft them in again. For if you have been cut from what
is by nature a wild olive tree and grafted, contrary to nature, into a cultivated olive tree,
how much more will these natural branches be grafted back into their own olive tree. (Rom
11:17–24)
In order to avoid presenting the Gentiles as necessary replacements for the Jews cut off from the
tree, he presents the rejected Jews as far better candidates for being grafted back into the tree
(through repentance and by the power of God, v. 23) than for the Gentiles to ever to have been
grafted in through faith alone in Christ.
Third, Paul practices his Pharisaic training and methodology, in which decisions were modified
by exceptions and stipulations, within epistles such as Galatians. Furthermore in stating that “all
Israel will be saved” he may be reflecting upon discussions already long underway among the rabbis
in which Israel’s election is assured but with the recognition that some are not worthy to enter into
eternal life as reflected in m. Sanhedrin 10.
Thus, the statements of Paul in Rom 9:27 and 11:26 affirm that God’s calling to his people Israel
remains permanent. Both passages also affirm that for both Israelites and Gentiles alike turning
back to God by sincere repentance, like Manasseh’s, is the only way for a grievous, obstinate sinner
to be restored.
6. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Bruce, F. F. Paul, Apostle of the Heart Set Free. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2000.
Grotius, Hugo. Annotationes in Novum Testamentum. Amsterdam, 1641–50.
Jastrow, Marcus. Hebrew, Aramaic, English Dictionary. 2 vols. Brooklyn, NY: P. Shalom, 1967.
Koehler, Ludwig, Walter Baumgartner, and Johann Stamm. Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon to the Old Testament.
Lowe, Malcolm. “And All Israel Shall Be Saved (Romans 11:26).” Inside Israel Newsletter 14.5 (1993): 3.
Murphy-O’Connor, Jerome. Paul: A Critical Life. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996.
Neusner, Jacob. The Mishnah: A New Translation. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1988.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jesus Tradition, Christian Creeds,

and the New Testament Canon
LEE MARTIN MCDONALD
1. INTRODUCTION
Emerging Christianity initially had to deal with several important issues such as Jewish opposition
to their message and their own identity,1 but the most important issue had to do with agreeing on
the identity of Jesus and what he did that was relevant to those who heard the proclamation about
him. Who was he? The disciples of Jesus believed that he had a special relationship with God and
that he was the anticipated messianic figure who would free them from the bondage of Rome and
usher in God’s kingdom (e.g., Acts 1:6). After his death and resurrection, Jesus’ disciples began
to view his death and resurrection as God’s means of bringing forgiveness of sins in his name and
hope for the life to come. They also saw the death and resurrection of Jesus as a fulfillment of their
Scriptures (1 Cor 15:3–5; Luke 24:26–27, 44–47; Acts 2:23–39). In what follows I will argue that
there is a strong connection between the earliest traditions about Jesus’ identity, the early creeds of
the church, and the church’s New Testament (NT) canon.
2. JESUS’ IDENTITY AND ROLE IN SALVATION

It is clear in the NT that many in the early church acknowledged Jesus’ special divine identity. The
earliest NT creeds or confessions acknowledge that identity. Jesus’ identity as Lord (Rom 10:9),
Son of God (Rom 1:3–4), and Messiah or Christ (Luke 24:26; Rom 1:1; and especially in John
1:1–3, 14; 10:11–15, 29–30; 14:1–6; 20:31, passim) is regularly included in several early Christian
writings and inextricably connected to the early church’s proclamation about him. This can be
seen in various NT creedal traditions in early Christianity. The earliest creedal formulations about
Jesus as Lord can be seen in Rom 10:9, likely the earliest known Christian creed. For Paul, this
identity was demonstrated in Jesus’ resurrection from the dead (Rom 1:3–4). For him, those who
I am pleased to contribute this brief study to this volume that honors Jim Charlesworth, my friend and colleague. His many
contributions to the rest of us both in noncanonical and canonical writings have enriched all of us who have delved into that
field of inquiry. Those who have read my work are familiar with my many references to Jim’s work and I can only wish him
well as we celebrate his eightieth birthday. I trust that what we all offer here will demonstrate our appreciation for his many
foundational volumes and friendship over many years.
1
I have addressed this matter at length in “Anti-Judaism in the Early Church Fathers,” in Anti-Semitism and Early
Christianity: Issues of Polemic and Faith, ed. C. A. Evans and D. A. Hagner (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1993),
215–52.
were baptized in Jesus’ name were aware of his identity as Son of God who was sent from God
to bring God’s salvation to humanity. This identity was also seen as connected to Jesus’ death and
resurrection (Rom 6:3–4; Col 2:11–14). Jesus’ identity and divine activity on behalf of humanity
were connected from the church’s beginning (Acts 2:29–36) and is reflected in the early NT creeds
(1 Cor 15:3–8). Those who followed Jesus also acknowledged his special relationship with God and
his identity and salvation for humanity were inextricably connected to his death and resurrection
(Gal 1:1–4; cf. also 1 Cor 2:8; Eph 1:3–14; John 1:1, 14).2 Although the early hymn in Phil 2:6–11
(cf. 1 Tim 3:16) does not state that Jesus died for the forgiveness of sins, Paul acknowledges that
Jesus the Christ died “for our sins” and was raised from the dead or exalted by God (Gal 1:3–4; 1
Cor 15:3–8; cf. Phil 2:6–9). Although the divinity of Jesus was not acknowledged by all of those
who followed him, namely the Ebionites and their predecessors who were largely the Jewish-
Christian followers of Jesus, the proto-orthodox followers of Jesus exemplified in the teachings of
Paul carried the day and expressed Jesus’ divine identity.
Long ago Goppelt argued that the message or kerygma that identified the early church and its
mission was called “the gospel” and that it focused both on the death and resurrection of Jesus
that were regularly proclaimed in baptisms (Acts 16:29–34; Rom 6:3–4; cf. also Did. 7:1–4)
and in the celebration of the Lord’s supper (1 Cor 11:23–26). These formulations also included
the words of Jesus regarding ethical behavior (1 Cor 7:10; 14:37; 2 Thess 3:6), as well as
sacred traditions passed down in the churches (2 Thess 2:15; cf. possibly also 1 Thess 4:1).3
The significance of Jesus’ death is especially seen in summary form in the canonical Gospels
in the sharing of the bread and wine in the Eucharist (Mark 14:22–25; Matt 26:26–29; Luke
22:14–20; cf. John 6:48–51).
There are several important early traditions and creedal statements that focus on Jesus’ divine
identity, his role in salvation, Christian responsibility, and living. These include but are not limited
to Matt 16:16; 28:18–20; Mark 12:29–31 (likely also 10:45); John 1:1–3, 12–14; 1:49; 6:68–69;
20:28; Acts 2:22–36; 8:36–37; 16:31; Rom 1:3–4; 4:25; 1 Cor 8:6; 11:2; 11:23–29; 12:3; Eph
1:3–14; Phil 2:6–11; Col 1:12–20; 2:9–15; 2 Thess 2:15; 3:6; 1 Tim 2:6; 3:16; 2 Tim 2:8; 1
Pet 3:18; 1 John 4:2 (cf. also Ign. Trall. 9; and Pol., Phil 2).4 The elements of several early church
creedal formulations can also be seen in the sermons attributed to Peter and Paul in Acts.
Among the themes in later Christian creedal traditions is the regular reference to Jesus’ humanity
(1 John 4:2) along with his special relationship with God, but the most common and central elements
in most of those early creeds are the identity of Jesus and the emphasis on and significance of his
death and resurrection. From the end of the first century, most of the creeds of the church began
to include an emphasis on the humanity of Jesus, that he was born of a woman, crucified under
Pontius Pilate, raised from the dead, and will soon also be the judge of humanity. Jesus’ humanity is
also clear in the canonical Gospels in that he hungered, tired, thirsted, ate, slept, and had parents.
There can be no doubt, however, about the considerable diversity in early Christianity, especially
2
The death of Jesus for sins is not clear in Luke-Acts but only that his death and resurrection were in the plan of God and
foretold in the Scriptures (e.g., Luke 24:27, 44; Acts 2:23–32).
3
L. Goppelt, Apostolic and Post-Apostolic Times. A History of the Christian Church, trans. R. A. Guelich
(Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 1962; repr. London: Adam and Charles Black, 1970), 152–6.
4
L. T. Johnson, in his The Creed: What Christians Believe and Why It Matters (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 2003), 10–11,
has observed that several of these texts are similar to and functioned like Israel’s Shema (Deut 6:4, 5–8).
Jesus Tradition, Christian Creeds, and New Testament Canon 187
in the second and third centuries,5 but it is also nonetheless clear that the earliest surviving creedal
summaries of the “Gospel” included Jesus’ special relationship with God and the importance of his
death and resurrection for the forgiveness of sins. As can be seen from the structure and summary
elements in these early formulations, they were circulating orally from the earliest stages of the
church and decades before any NT texts were written.6
The NT creeds and traditions predate the NT writings themselves and focus generally on Jesus’
identity, activity, and commands, but mostly on his death and resurrection that was central to the
core message of the earliest churches. The affirmations in these creeds and traditions that emerge
from the middle to late 30s ce to roughly 60–70 ce reflect the earliest Christian beliefs and practices
and focus on Jesus’ ministry and teachings, death and resurrection.
Again, near the end of the first century, Jesus’ humanity began to be doubted by some Christian
docetics who claimed that Jesus only appeared to have a human body. As a result, the church leaders
began to emphasize his full humanity and this began to be included in early Christian confessions of
him (1 John 4:2; Ign. Trall. 9:1–2). It was especially seen in his crucifixion under Pontius Pilate. For
example, in his 1 Apol. 61, Justin (ca. 150–155 ce) affirms Jesus’ humanity during the confession at
baptism as follows: “And in the name of Jesus Christ, who was crucified under Pontius Pilate, and
in the name of the Holy Spirit, who through the prophets foretold all things about Jesus, he who is
illuminated is washed” (1 Apol. 61; ANF modified). See also his later Dialogue with Trypho 89–98
in which he argued at length that Jesus had to die and be buried.
Later Hippolytus (ca. 170–236), in his treatise, Against the Heresy of Noetus,7 when the
presbyters condemned Noetus, affirmed Jesus’ humanity saying that he “suffered, and died even as
he died, and rose again on the third day, and is at the right hand of the Father” (ANF; cf. Eusebius,
Hist. eccl. 2.20.2). Jesus’ humanity was regularly acknowledged in subsequent confessions of his
suffering and crucifixion under Pontius Pilate. See, for example, the Apostles’ Creed8 that combines
both the divine and human traits of Jesus by affirming his birth from the virgin Mary9 but goes
5
For a careful discussion of these differences in early Christianity, see W. Bauer, Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity
(Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1971); and H. Koester, “GNOMAI DIAPHOROI: The Origin and Diversification in the
History of Early Christianity,” in Trajectories through Early Christianity, ed. J. M. Robinson and H. Koester (Philadelphia,
PA: Fortress Press, 1971), 114–57.
6
Most of the NT creeds are found in the writings of Paul and most were likely passed along in the churches orally. For
example, this can be seen in the structure of 1 Cor 15:3–8 which is easily structured for memory and transmission orally.
The balance in this early creed can seen in the two 3–1 emphases in vv. 3–5 with each line beginning with the usual
introduction of a creedal statement, “that” (the Greek hoti = ὅτι, cf. Rom 10:9). Specifically, observe, “that—Christ died—
for our sins—according to the Scriptures” followed by “that he was buried” (= 3 emphases followed by 1). The next
line begins “that—he was raised—the third day—according to the Scriptures” followed by “that he appeared to Cephas”
(another 3–1 structure). Further, there is a rhythm in the two Greek words for “then” (eita—epeita; Greek = εἶτα—ἔπειτα)
that introduces the witnesses to the appearances and comes before the listing of the witnesses. Also, the witnesses are listed
as one and a group in the first and third listings and as a group or single in vv. 5–8 in the listing of Peter and the twelve, then
above five hundred, then James and the rest of the apostles, then Paul. This creedal formulation was phrased to make it easy
to remember and “handed on” (Greek: paredoka—παρέδωκα) in the churches (15:3).
7
Noetus did not distinguish between the Father and Jesus and even claimed that the Father was born, suffered, and died.
8
It is first mentioned by name ca. 390, but its current form dates from the eighth century and appears to be an expansion of
the earlier Old Roman Creed (perhaps ca. third century and cited in Epiphanius, Pan. 72.3) that is more reflective of Western
than Eastern Christianity and it was regularly cited and affirmed at Christian baptisms.
9
Outside of Matthew and Luke, it appears that the earliest reference to the importance of the virgin birth of Jesus is next
found in Ignatius (ca. 115) who describes Jesus’ virgin birth as an essential ingredient of Christian belief (Eph. 7:2; cf. 18:2)
and where he specifically mentions “the virginity of Mary [ἡ παρΘενία Μαρίας] and her giving birth” (19:1; cf. also Magn.
on to state the only historical (human) part of that creed: “He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was
crucified, died, and was buried.” Similarly, the Nicene Creed, after affirming Jesus as “one in being”
(homoousios) with the Father and “for our salvation” states that Jesus “came down and became
flesh, becoming human, he suffered, and rose on the third day.”10 The relationship of Jesus with
the Father, his birth in Judea and suffering and death, as well as triumph over death are regular
elements in various creedal formulations of early Christianity and are reflective of various NT texts
that later became the Christian Scriptures that formed the NT biblical canon of early Christianity.
3. AN EXPANSION OF THE EARLY CREEDS

By the end of the first century and following, several church fathers began expanding but not
changing the core elements of the earlier first-century creeds. Essentially, in their expansions they
reinforced the earlier traditions circulating in the churches. Clement of Rome, for example, appears
to have begun the argument of apostolic succession when he challenged the Corinthian church’s
decision to depose its bishops who had received their teachings from the Apostles. Speaking of the
Apostles, he writes:
Our apostles likewise knew, through our Lord Jesus Christ, that there would be strife over the
bishop’s office. For this reason, therefore, having received complete [perfect] foreknowledge,
they appointed the leaders mentioned earlier and afterwards they gave the offices a permanent
character; that is, if they should die, other approved men should succeed to their ministry.
These, therefore, who were appointed by them or later on by other reputable men with the
consent of the whole church, and who have ministered to the flock of Christ have been well-
spoken of by all—these we consider to be unjustly removed from their ministry. (1 Clem.
44:1–4)11
Irenaeus drew on Clement of Rome’s argument claiming that the church’s sacred traditions came
from the Apostles and were passed on by them to the leaders (bishops) in the churches. He writes:
Suppose there arose a dispute relative to some important question among us. Should we not be
obliged to turn to the most ancient Churches with which the apostles had dialogue and learn
from them what is certain and clear in regard to the present question? And what should we
do if the apostles themselves had not left us writings? Would it not be necessary in that case to
follow the course of the tradition that they handed down to those to whom they entrusted the
leadership of the Churches? (Haer. 3.4.1 adapted from ANF; for a more detailed description of
this, see his Haer. 3.3.3)
It is difficult to argue against his logic here and it had considerable value in his arguments against
so-called heretical writings.12
11). After him, Irenaeus (ca. 170–180) and subsequently others included the virgin birth in most of their creeds and core
Christian teachings (Haer. 1.10.1).
10
I have made use here of Johnson’s translation in The Creed, 54–5.
11
I have followed here the translation of M. W. Holmes, The Apostolic Fathers: Greek Texts and English Translations, 3rd ed.
(Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2007), 102–5.
12
See L. M. McDonald, The New Testament: Its Authority and Canonicity, vol. 2 of Formation of the Biblical Canon
(London: T&T Clark, 2017), 68–73.
4. THE RULE OF FAITH

The emergence of “proto-orthodoxy” that both affirmed and also expanded the earlier NT writings
and creedal formulations and preceded the later Nicene Creed affirmations is clearly seen in the
second- and third-century church fathers. In the following examples, there is faithfulness to the
apostolic deposit (the church’s traditions and “rule of faith”) circulating in the churches at that time.
Irenaeus, in his Against Heresies, says in an authoritative manner, “as the apostle says” (Preface 1),
and in citing Jesus’ words in Matt 7:15 in reference to wolves in sheep’s clothing, writes: “against
whom the Lord has enjoined us to be on our guard” (Preface 2, ANF). Tertullian, promoting the
“rule of faith” (regula fidei), urges readers to avoid darkness and seek rather to seek “our own.”
That is “only that which can become an object of inquiry without impairing the rule of faith” (On
Prescription Against Heretics 12, adapted from ANF), and later states: “For whenever it shall be
manifest that the true Christian rule and faith shall be, there will likewise be the true Scriptures
and expositions thereof, and all the Christian traditions” (ibid., 19, ANF). In his Against Marcion,
Tertullian speaks against those who subvert “the rule of faith” (3.1; ANF) and clearly identifies this
rule of faith with the apostolic deposit passed on in the churches saying that what is to be followed
comes from the apostles, such as that which Paul brought to the Galatians to correct them, namely
the “rule of faith” (4.5). Finally, Origen refers both to the rule of faith, like Irenaeus and Clement
of Rome before him (see relevant texts below), and affirms that the “teaching of the Church,
transmitted in orderly succession from the apostles, and remaining in the Churches to the present
day, is still preserved, and that alone is to be accepted as truth which differs in no respect from
ecclesiastical and apostolical tradition” (On First Principles, Preface 2; ANF).
Establishing the core identity of Jesus was essential before there could be a church or broad
agreement on the church’s earliest creeds. The creeds were the “rule of faith” (regula fidei) and have
their roots in the earliest history of the church as we saw above in the NT, but this is also true in
the early church fathers in the late first and second centuries. There could not have been a church
without some agreement on the core beliefs about Jesus. As we have seen above, his followers
agreed that he was in the form of God, took on human form, died on a cross, and was highly
exalted (Phil 2:6–11). This affirmation is both the primary explanation for the origin of the church
and the church’s NT canon.
The most central authorities of the early followers of Jesus and the subsequent church fathers
were the words of Jesus that were equivalent to a scriptural status (e.g., Acts 20:35; 1 Cor 7:10;
14:37; 1 Tim 5:18; see also 1 Clem. 13:1: “especially remembering the words of the Lord” and
also 46:7) and the church’s First Scriptures, the Jewish Scriptures, whose scope had not yet been
fully determined in the first century ce.13 By the middle of the second century, this also included
the apostolic witness, namely if a teaching was in writings or traditions and was believed to be
the words of Jesus or to have come from apostles, those traditions were also authoritative in
the churches. For example, in Justin’s Dialogue with Trypho 100.1 he writes: “it is written in
the Gospel” and a move toward the authority of the Gospels is in 2 Clem. 8:5 that cites Luke
16:10–12 with the introductory words: “For the Lord says in the Gospel.” See also the author of
the Didache (8:2) citing the Lord’s prayer in Matt 6:9–13 who introduces it as follows: “as the
13
I have addressed this at length in the Formation of the Biblical Canon, 1.296–335.
Lord commanded in his gospel.” Before Justin (ca. 150), it was the “words of the Lord” in the
apostolic writings (the Gospels) that were viewed as scripturally authoritative. Justin is the first
known early Christian writer to refer to the Gospels in a scriptural manner and refer to reading
them alongside of or instead of the “prophets” (Hebrew scriptures) and using the designation “it is
written” for the Gospels. However, Hippolytus of Rome claimed that Basilides of Alexandria cited
Luke, Matthew, and John as Scripture using the usual scriptural designations (see his Refutation of
Heresies 7.22.4). Also, the author of the Epistle of Barnabas 4:14 (ca. 135–150)14 cites the words of
Jesus in Matt 22:14 and introduces them with the scriptural designation: “as it is written [Greek =
ὡς γέγραπται] many called, but few chosen.” It is interesting to note in passing that the pseudonymous
writings attributed to the Apostles began to emerge after the middle of the second century when
apostolic authority for writings attributed to them became more prominent in the churches. This
was a way for pseudonymous authors to have recognized apostolic authority for their teachings.
5. THE REGULA FIDEI AND THE NT CANON

Long ago, Chadwick rightly observed: “Whatever differences there might be of race, class or
education, they [the early Christians] felt bound together by their focus of loyalty to the person
and teaching of Jesus. The pattern of worship derived all its meaning from its references to him.”15
However, at least by the end of the first century with the Docetic Christians and subsequently
the Marcionites and the Gnostic Christians in the second century, Jesus’ identity, the heart of
the regula fidei, became a hotly contested issue in the churches. That threatened the unity of the
Roman Empire and so Emperor Constantine ordered the bishops throughout the empire to gather
in Nicea (ca. 325) to find a way to have unity on this matter. Considerable, though never complete,
agreement was eventually reached during the Council of Nicea deliberations, no doubt in part
for political reasons and as a result of Constantine’s urging and insistence. After Nicea and the
broad agreement on the identity of Jesus, various lists or catalogues of the church’s New Testament
Scriptures began to appear. While differences over the identity of Jesus continued after Nicea,
there was greater unity in the churches on the scope of the church’s NT canon, but never complete
agreement until centuries later. Nevertheless, the broad agreement on the identity of Jesus made
it possible for considerably more agreement on the scope of the NT canon. Broad agreement on
the church’s core sacred traditions and creedal formulations made it possible for greater clarity in
regard to which books would be included in the church’s NT canon.
Some scholars argue strongly that the second century was essentially the defining period of
NT canon formation with only a subsequent “mopping up” or “finalizing” canon activity taking
place thereafter. They all depend heavily on a late-second-century dating of the Muratorian
Fragment (MF).16 I have argued at length that the MF is a late-fourth-century text both in terms
14
Scholars are well aware of the difficulty of dating the Epistle of Barnabas. Chapter 16 gives the only clue that could allow
a time just after the destruction of the temple in 70 ce or after 135 ce. It is common to date it around 135–150 ce. It was
highly valued in the early churches and was included in Codex Sinaiticus.
15
H. Chadwick, The Early Church (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1967), 32.
16
M. J. Kruger, The Question of Canon: Challenging the Status Quo in the New Testament Debate (Downers Grove,
IL: InterVarsity Press, 2013), and his Canon Revisited: Establishing the Origins and Authority of the New Testament Books
(Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2012); T. Bokedal, The Formation and Significance of the Christian Biblical Canon: A Study in
of influence and the way that the “heresies” addressed in it are more reflective of the late fourth
century.17
Earlier scholars have concluded that Marcion, who edited a collection of ten letters of Paul and
the Gospel of Luke, and the Gnostic Christians’ documents prompted the early church fathers to
establish a broader and more appropriate collection of the Christian Scriptures. They concluded
that by the end of the second century those who responded to these “heretical” threats established
the church’s New Testament canon with only minor adjustments to it later. Generally speaking,
these scholars, who followed the arguments of Adolf von Harnack, argued that the second-century
heresies of Marcion, Gnostic Christians, and Montanists led the church to establish its NT canon.18
Other scholars contend that the only canon that was widely discussed and debated in the second
century was the “canon of faith” (regula fidei) and not a scripture canon. The heresies were answered
by appeal to the “words of Lord” (Jesus), the church’s core traditions, its First Jewish Scriptures,
and various NT texts.19 The canon of faith that they were defending and seeking to establish on
firm grounds can be seen especially in Irenaeus whose summary of the Christian faith is most clearly
reflected in the second century. It reads:
The Church, though dispersed throughout the whole world, even to the ends of the earth,
has received from the apostles and their disciples this faith: It believes in one God, the Father
Almighty, Maker of heaven, and earth and the sea and all things that are in them and in one
Christ Jesus, the Son of God, who became incarnate for our salvation and in the Holy Spirit,
who proclaimed through the prophets the dispensations of God, the advents, the birth from a
virgin, the passion, the resurrection from the dead, and the ascension into heaven in the flesh
of the beloved Christ Jesus, our Lord. He also proclaimed through the prophets his future
manifestation from heaven in the glory of the Father “to gather all things in one,” and to raise up
anew all flesh of the whole human race. [This will take place] in order that to Christ Jesus, our
Lord, God, Saviour, and King, according to the will of the invisible Father, “every knee should
bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth, and that every tongue
should confess” him. And he will execute just judgment towards all sending into everlasting
fire “spiritual wickednesses,” and the angels who transgressed and became apostates, together
with the ungodly, and unrighteous, and wicked, and profane among men. But he will, in the
exercise of his grace, confer immortality on the righteous and holy, and those who have kept his
commandments, and have persevered in his love, some from the beginning of their Christian
Text, Ritual and Interpretation (London: T&T Clark, 2014); and S. E. Porter, How We Got the New Testament: Text,
Transmission, Translation, ASBT (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2013).
17
My arguments for a late-fourth- or early-fifth-century dating of the MF are listed in considerable detail in the Formation
of the Biblical Canon, 2.274–305. I am also indebted to Clare Rothschild’s recent investigation of the Fragmentist in her
forthcoming The Muratorian Fragment, WUNT (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck).
18
A. von Harnack, The Origin of the New Testament and the Most Important Consequences of the New Creation, trans. J.
R. Wilkinson (New York: Macmillan, 1925); see also H. von Campenhausen, The Formation of the Christian Bible, trans.
J. A. Baker (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1972); and B. M. Metzger, The Canon of the New Testament: Its Origin,
Development, and Significance (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1987).
19
For example, A. C. Sundberg, Jr., “The Bible Canon and the Christian Doctrine of Inspiration,” Interpretation 29
(1975): 352–71; and A. C. Sundberg, Jr., “Canon Muratori: A Fourth-Century List,” HTR 66 (1973): 1–41; G. M.
Hahnemann, The Muratorian Fragment and the Development of the Canon, OTM (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992); H.
Y. Gamble, “The New Testament Canon: Recent Research and the Status Quaestionis,” in The Canon Debate, ed. L. M.
McDonald and J. A. Sanders (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2002), 267–94; and McDonald, Formation of the Biblical Canon.
course, and others from the time of their repentance. He will surround them with everlasting
glory. (Haer. 1.10.1, ANF adapted; cf. 3.4.2)
The early church fathers did not deal with heresy by establishing a list of NT of Scriptures, but
rather by affirming its canon or rule of faith that they believed derived from and is reflected in the
earliest apostolic traditions as well as in the teachings of the NT. They affirmed that the apostolic
community passed on these sacred traditions to the leadership of the churches. The recognition
of these early sacred traditions is summarized in several second-century creeds that formed the
foundation for recognizing the later fixed collection of NT Scriptures. I have argued at length that
there is no evidence for a second-century fixed list of NT Scriptures, that is, a canon of NT Scriptures
apart from Irenaeus’ fixed four-gospel collection (Haer. 3.11.8–9) that was not representative of
all churches at that time, as we see in the story of Bishop Serapion at the end of the second century
(Hist. eccl. 6.12.3–6).20
Differences in the surviving catalogues of those scriptures continued for centuries after church
councils began deliberating and establishing a canon of the church’s Scriptures at the end of the
fourth and early fifth centuries (Hippo in 393, Carthage in 397 and 416), but the considerable
agreements and overlaps in those canons are rooted in the church’s earliest traditions and creeds.
However, differences on the identity of Jesus and some of the books that comprise the church’s
Scriptures continued. For example, 3 Corinthians continued in the Scripture collections of many
Christians for centuries especially for the Armenian Christians who welcomed that text and other
so-called noncanonical texts as Scripture well into the nineteenth century.21 For several centuries
the so-called Minor NT Epistles (2 Peter, 2–3 John and Jude) as well as Revelation were not
welcome or read in the Syrian Churches, but they did welcome for a time not only 3 Corinthians
but also Tatian’s Diatessaron. There never was universal agreement in the ancient churches on the
scope of their Scriptures or the full identity of Jesus, as in the case of Arius of Alexandria (325–336)
and his followers. However, there was considerable agreement in a majority of churches on both
of these issues.
While some elements in the later creeds are only found infrequently in the NT writings, for
example, the virgin birth of Jesus (noted above) is nonetheless in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke
and found in Ignatius as an essential part of the Christian proclamation. After Irenaeus the virgin
birth was included in most creeds that focused on the identity of Jesus, but again, the core focus of
the NT writings still remained Jesus’ relationship with God his Father, his humanity, death for sins,
and resurrection or exaltation. Jesus’ humanity is clearly acknowledged in the NT Gospels as we
see in references to his death through the NT. As noted above, the church’s response to the denial
of Jesus’ humanity was noted and subsequently seen in its creeds that regularly included reference
to his suffering and crucifixion under Pontius Pilate. By the sixth or seventh century, when the
Apostles’ Creed was finally penned, the humanity of Jesus does not appear to have been a point of
significant disagreement any longer in most churches.
The early churches existed before there was a NT Scripture, but they could not have existed
without considerable agreement on specific beliefs (their regula fidei) about Jesus. The church’s
teaching about Jesus was present from its beginning (Acts 2:29–36, 42; Rom 10:9–10; 1 Cor 15:3–9;
20
I discuss the relevance of this particular text in Formation of the Biblical Canon 2.67–68.
21
Ibid., 124–6 and 239 n.42.
1 Tim 3:16), and it could not have existed as a community of faith without some sense of Jesus’
identity, his authority, and an understanding of his death (a stumbling block as we see in 1 Cor 1:23)
and resurrection. Despite some growth and development in the later creeds that understandably
reflected current issues facing the churches, the early core sacred traditions remained stable and
central in the church’s subsequent creeds and were also influential in the selection of the books
that comprised the NT Scriptures. I should also draw attention to the fact that none of the earliest
creeds included a statement about the scope of the church’s Scriptures. Establishing a biblical canon
was simply not a concern of second-century Christianity. That notion emerges in the third century
with Origen, but it is not a major issue in churches until the fourth century.22 It is difficult to believe
that a fixed collection of NT Scriptures could have been adopted by a large number of churches
before there was considerable agreement on the identity of Jesus, the significance of his death and
resurrection, and his role in forgiveness of sins.
6. THE ROLE OF HERESY

The heretical issues the early churches faced in the second century doubtless affected the formation
of the church’s creeds, but they did not initially lead the churches to establish or form a NT Scripture
canon. The creeds formulated in the midst of doctrinal conflicts no doubt eventually affected the final
shape of the church’s NT canon, even if not initially. Goppelt contends that this was obvious in the
second century, but while I have argued at length against that conclusion, he is still generally correct
in concluding that “the development of [Christian] tradition, like the development of the canon, took
place in the continual struggle against a false Gospel.”23
Despite the use of several NT writings in the second century and the obvious function of some of
those texts as Scripture, they were generally not called “Scripture” until the latter half of the second
century. That does not detract from their function as Scripture earlier. Ancient texts always function
as Scripture before they are called Scripture. By the end of the second century only some NT writings
had received scriptural designations like “as the Scripture says” or “as it is written.” Goppelt correctly
observes that although some of the NT Epistles were likely read instead of a sermon in the early
churches, the term “scripture” was reserved initially only for the church’s Old Testament Scriptures
until well into the second century.24 While the NT writers regularly cite and anchor their teachings
in the “Scriptures,” that designation was almost always reserved for what they later called their “Old
Testament” Scriptures and only subsequently the NT Scriptures.25 The most important exception is the
words or teachings of Jesus that had a scriptural function and recognition from the church’s beginning
(1 Cor 7:10; 14:37; 1 Tim 5:18) noted above.
The authors of the second-century church’s creeds often show familiarity with several NT
writings, but they do not list them or include them in their creeds.26 Johnson claims that the
22
See McDonald, Formation of the Biblical Canon, 2:275–318.
23
Goppelt, Apostolic and Post-Apostolic Times, 165.
24
Ibid., 164.
25
The exception to this, is, of course, the reference to Paul’s letters as “scripture” in 2 Pet 3:16 which, I have argued
elsewhere, is a mid-second-century text. See my discussion of this text in Formation of the Biblical Canon, 2.259–60.
26
A useful “Syndogmaticon,” or listing of the most important ancient sources or reflections of the key elements in the
church’s early creedal statements, and dating from the second century ce is J. Pelikan, Credo: Historical and Theological
Guide to Creeds and Confessions of Faith in the Christian Tradition (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2003), 542–70.
church’s creeds have their origin and parallels in the Jewish Shema (Deut 6:4–9),27 and, as noted
above, they clarify the earliest traditions of the church (e.g., Rom 10:9–10; cf. 1 Cor 12:31; and
Cor 15:3–8). These traditions are at the heart of the early church beliefs and are found in the NT
writings, the Apostolic Fathers, and other second and third century church fathers who constructed
the church’s emerging creeds in the context of dealing with heresies and establishing the church’s
sacred teachings and traditions. The churches recognized as Scripture those texts that they believed
best reflected their oldest traditions, despite their expansions of those creeds to address later
challenges (heresies) facing the churches, as we later see in the Nicene Creed.
Although some scholars argue that the NT canon is more a reflection of the “orthodox”
churches after they had received power following the conversion of Constantine, that view does
not show awareness of the parallels between the later creedal developments and the earliest church
traditions, creeds, and the NT writings, all of which were written long before the conversion of
Constantine. Bart Ehrman and David Dungan contend that the NT canon was finally decided by
the orthodox Christians after they acquired power, money, and influence in the fourth century
following the conversion of Constantine,28 but their evidence is not convincing and it is more
likely that orthodoxy had won the day much earlier because it clearly reflected the earliest church
traditions, creeds, and Christian writings that later became its NT Scriptures. That is a more
powerful argument than Constantine’s fourth-century influence. Irenaeus’ argument for proto-
orthodoxy is supported by his appeal to apostolic succession in which the apostles passed on to
their successors an “apostolic deposit” (core tradition) and subsequently carried the day in the
fourth century. Proto-orthodox Christianity was the dominant expression of Christian faith in the
fourth century and that faith was rooted in those traditions, creeds, and writings closest to the
time of Jesus.
7. FINAL OBSERVATIONS
Those who suggest that other expressions of early Christianity were more popular prior to the time
of Constantine’s influence over the church in the fourth century ce do not show familiarity with
the earlier traditions and creeds circulating in churches in the first three centuries. Jenson rightly
contends that there is an obvious connection between the creeds of the early church and its eventual
NT canon.29 Von Campenhausen rightly concluded: “The development and advance that takes
place in the Church is never such that the origins in Christ and the original faith of the apostles are
fundamentally superseded and eliminated.” In reference to the significant changes in the history of
He acknowledges that none of the early creeds or the early church councils resolve the problem of the Apocrypha and it was
only finally resolved in the controversy in the confessions of the Reformation (139). I would add that this is also true of the
NT canon itself for the early churches well into the fourth century.
27
Johnson, The Creed, 11–30.
28
See B. D. Ehrman, Lost Christianities: The Battles for Scripture and the Faiths We Never Knew (New York: Oxford
University Press, 2003); and D. L. Dungan, Constantine’s Bible: Politics and the Making of the New Testament (Minneapolis,
MN: Fortress Press, 2007).
29
R. W. Jenson, Canon and Creed, Interpretation (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010). I reviewed favorably
this volume in the RBL (2011) http://www.bookreviews.org. While there are some challenges in his arguments, he clearly
acknowledges the often-overlooked relationship between creeds and the biblical canon of the church. The NT canon was
not a late development that somehow emerged in the fourth century after the church had power, money, and influence.
the church’s development, he also claims that for “all Christian Churches, the tradition of the New
Testament—understood and interpreted according to its spirit—always remains the standard.”30
I have argued that the church’s core sacred traditions existed decades before the emergence
of the New Testament writings and well before the major heresies that affected churches in the
second century and later. Generally, those traditions focus more on the identity of Jesus and his
relationship with the Father and only briefly and summarily on the Father and the Spirit. The later
church councils that addressed the scope of the church’s NT canon recognized those books that
most clearly reflected the church’s earliest traditions and those books that are not contrary to those
traditions. Again, unless there was a widely accepted core of teachings about Jesus, it is difficult
to see how a NT canon could have existed. It is important to remember that the Council of Nicea
in 325 reflected for most churches the identity of Jesus and only after that do the majority of NT
canon lists begin to emerge in church councils beginning with Laodicea in 360, Rome in 383, Hippo
in 393, and Carthage in 397 and 419. It is also true that the NT writings are not the only early
Christian documents that reflect those same sacred traditions that were pivotal in establishing a
collection of sacred Christian Scriptures. Clearly, other writings were initially also widely welcomed
and read in some churches that later were not included in the NT but nonetheless also reflected the
NT and early church sacred traditions and creeds, for example, 1 Clement, Shepherd of Hermas,
Didache, Epistle Barnabas, and others.
There is no doubt that some traditions were seldom mentioned in the NT and were likely less
known to post-Easter followers of Jesus, for example, the virgin birth and Jesus’ decent into “hell”
(1 Peter 3:19), but were included in some later canons of faith or creedal formulations. For instance,
by the late fourth century, Rufinus, and others after him, included some traditions in the Roman
Creed that were also included in its well-known successor, the Apostles’ Creed. Those additional
items were no doubt welcomed in some early churches, but not by all despite being included in the
later formulation of the orthodox creeds. It has often been observed that the Apostle’s Creed says
very little about Jesus’ humanity, except that he was “crucified under Pontius Pilate for our sins”
(e.g., Rom 5:8; 1 Cor 15:3; Gal 1:4) which is more reflective of Paul’s theology, but not clearly
stated in the Synoptic Gospels or Acts (except, for example, Jesus giving his life as a ransom for
many in Mark 10:45). Broadly speaking, however, the identity of Jesus seen in the NT designations
of him and the significance of his death, resurrection, glorification, and relation to God are all
prominent in the much later creeds of the church and no doubt this “proto-orthodoxy” played a
role in the recognition and acceptance of the writings that later comprised the church’s NT canon.
As suggested earlier, the logic or rationale for including all of the books of the NT canon is
difficult to establish and it is also difficult to know why some orthodox books were welcomed and
others were not. Timothy Lim’s discussion of the failure of the ancients leaving a clear set of criteria
for the formation of the Old Testament or Hebrew Bible is also true in regard to the NT canon.
He concludes that there is no “criterial logic” that clearly identifies the rationale for the literature
included in the biblical canon.31 He chooses instead “family resemblances,” that is, “resemblances
are shared among the books.” It is also true that there are exceptions to the usual criteria employed
30
H. von Campenhausen, Tradition and Life in the Church: Essays and Lectures in Church History (London: Collins,
1968), 17–18.
31
T. H. Lim, “An Indicative Definition of the Canon,” in When Texts Are Canonized, ed. T. H. Lim, BJS 359 (Providence,
RI: Brown Judaic Studies, 2017), 1–24, esp. 12–24.
to argue for the NT canon, namely apostolicity, antiquity, orthodoxy, and use, but what the NT
books do have in common are family resemblances, namely, they reflect similar early traditions and
the NT and later creeds. The later church’s NT canon reflects the early church’s sacred traditions
and creedal formulations seen first in the NT writings and the early church fathers, but they
clearly existed before that. There could have been no viable church without them. While there are
differences in emphases in the NT canon, at its core there is broad agreement in several of its many
affirmations. That core is broadly reflected in the Irenaeus creedal formulations (ca. 170–180)
included above, which is an early proto-orthodox position that obtained widespread approval well
before the conversion of Constantine. Those writings closest to the time of Jesus and his apostles
(antiquity) alone are insufficient to account for canonicity, but their primary overlapping emphases,
traditions, and message are central to their affirmation and welcome into the NT canon.
Elements of the early Christian and NT traditions, including the creedal statements, are reflected
in many writings from the first and second centuries, but all views about Jesus in that period do not
reflect the later proto-orthodox views that gained priority in the church long before Constantine.
For example, Hal Tausig’s The New New Testament includes ten other writings that were not later
included in the church’s NT canon. Those additional writings included in Taussig’s “new Bible”
simply do not reflect the beliefs of a majority of churches in the second to fourth centuries.32 No
suggested criteria makes completely clear the formation of the NT canon. It is seldom clear why the
Didache, 1–2 Clement, the Shepherd of Hermas, the Epistle of Barnabas, Letters of Ignatius, Letter
of Polycarp, and possibly others were excluded, or why 2 Peter, 2–3 John, Jude, and likely others
were included.33 There can be no doubt, however, that those early Christian writings included in
the church’s biblical canon had continuing relevance for the churches while others that did not were
either later excluded or were simply not passed on in the majority of churches (e.g., 1 Clement,
Didache, Epistle of Barnabas, and Shepherd of Hermas). It is also clear that initially few churches
possessed all of the NT writings for centuries as we see in the surviving NT manuscripts; only about
fifty of the surviving 5,750-plus NT manuscripts contain all of the NT writings and no manuscripts
before approximately 1000 ce contain all of the books of the NT and only those books. The early
churches did not universally recognize all of their sacred scriptures at the same time. While most
churches today welcome all of the NT writings as their NT canon of Scripture, that was not always
the case for centuries and variations in the welcomed books varied for many centuries and some
issues related to the accepted books continue to be debated to this day. In antiquity few churches
possessed all of the sacred texts now included in the church’s Bible and one can only wonder what
some of their creeds would have looked life if they did.
The earliest Christian traditions and creeds reflect the earliest stages of church development and
later those elements greatly influenced the creation and scope of a NT canon, but the boundaries
of that canon were not always clear for centuries and it is often unclear why some books were
included and others were not. What is clear, however, is the connection between the early church
traditions and creeds, especially those reflected in the NT canon, and the books that were finally
welcomed into the church’s NT.
32
For an extended critique of H. Taussig’s A New New Testament, see R. W. L. Moberley, “Canon and Religious Truth: An
Appraisal of A New New Testament,” in When Texts are Canonized, ed. T. H. Lim, BJS 359 (Providence, RI: Brown Judaic
Studies, 2017), 108–35.
33
I have addressed this issue in the Formation of the Biblical Canon, 2.325–47.
8. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Bauer, W. Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity. Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1971.
Bokedal, T. The Formation and Significance of the Christian Biblical Canon: A Study in Text, Ritual and
Interpretation. London: T&T Clark, 2014.
Campenhausen, Hans von. The Formation of the Christian Bible. Translated by J. A. Baker. Philadelphia,
Campenhausen, Hans von. Tradition and Life in the Church: Essays and Lectures in Church History.
London: Collins, 1968.
Chadwick, Henry. The Early Church. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1967.
Dungan, D. L. Constantine’s Bible: Politics and the Making of the New Testament. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress
Press, 2007.
Ehrman, B. D. Lost Christianities: The Battles for Scripture and the Faiths We Never Knew. New York: Oxford
Gamble, H. Y. “The New Testament Canon: Recent Research and the Status Quaestionis.” Pages 267–94 in
The Canon Debate. Edited by L. M. McDonald and J. A. Sanders. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2002.
Goppelt, Leonard. Apostolic and Post-Apostolic Times: A History of the Christian Church. Translated
by R. A. Guelich. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 1962. Repr. London: Adam and Charles
Black, 1970.
Hahnemann, G. M. The Muratorian Fragment and the Development of the Canon. OTM. Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1992.
Harnack, A. von. The Origin of the New Testament and the Most Important Consequences of the New Creation.
Translated by J. R. Wilkinson. New York: Macmillan, 1925.
Holmes, M. W. The Apostolic Fathers: Greek Texts and English Translations. 3rd ed. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker
Academic, 2007.
Jenson, R. W. Canon and Creed. Interpretation. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010. See
McDonald RBL review http://www.bookreviews.org, 2011.
Johnson, L. T. The Creed: What Christians Believe and Why It Matters. New York: Doubleday, 2003.
Koester, Helmut. “GNOMAI DIAPHOROI: The Origin and Diversification in the History of Early
Christianity.” Pages 114–57 in Trajectories through Early Christianity. Edited by J. M. Robinson and H.
Koester. Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1971.
Kruger, M. J. Canon Revisited: Establishing the Origins and Authority of the New Testament Books. Wheaton,
IL: Crossway, 2012.
Kruger, M. J. The Question of Canon: Challenging the Status Quo in the New Testament Debate. Downers
Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2013.
Lim, T. H. “An Indicative Definition of the Canon.” Pages 1–24 in When Texts Are Canonized. Edited by T. H.
Lim. BJS 359. Providence, RI: Brown Judaic Studies, 2017.
McDonald, L. M. “Anti-Judaism in the Early Church Fathers.” Pages 215–52 in Anti-Semitism and Early
Christianity: Issues of Polemic and Faith. Edited by C. A. Evans and D. A. Hagner. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress
Press, 1993.
McDonald, L. M. The New Testament: Its Authority and Canonicity. Vol. 2 of Formation of the Biblical
Canon. London: T&T Clark, 2017.
McDonald, L. M. The Old Testament: Its Authority and Canonicity. Vol. 1 of Formation of the Biblical Canon.
London: T&T Clark, 2017.
Metzger, B. M. The Canon of the New Testament: Its Origin, Development, and Significance. Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1987.
Moberley, R. W. L. “Canon and Religious Truth: An Appraisal of A New New Testament.” Pages 108–35 in
When Texts Are Canonized. Edited by T. H. Lim. BJS 359. Providence, RI: Brown Judaic Studies, 2017.
Pelikan, J. Credo: Historical and Theological Guide to Creeds and Confessions of Faith in the Christian
Tradition. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2003.
Porter, S. E., and A. Pitts. How We Got the New Testament: Text, Transmission, Translation. ASBT. Grand
Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2013.
Rothschild, Clare K. “The Muratorian Fragment as Roman Fake.” Novum Testamentum 60 (2018): 55–82.
Rothschild, Clare K. The Muratorian Fragment. WUNT. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, forthcoming.
Sundberg Jr., A. C. “Canon Muratori: A Fourth-Century List.” HTR 66 (1973): 1–41.
Sundberg Jr., A. C. “The Bible Canon and the Christian Doctrine of Inspiration.” Interpretation 29
(1975): 352–71.
PART TWO
Greco-Roman and Jewish World

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When Ontology Meets

Eschatology: A Platonized
Reading of Deuteronomy
28:1–14
GREGORY E. STERLING
One striking aspect of reading the two most expansive Second Temple authors is the relative
absence of apocalyptic thought in their writings. Each gives a famous nod to it, but only a nod. In
the case of Josephus, the nod comes in the retelling of Daniel in his magnum opus;1 in the case of
Philo, the nod comes in the retelling of Deuteronomy in the final treatise of the Exposition of the
Law and the parallel in De vita Moysis.2 The reasons why the historian and the philosopher tend
to elide apocalyptic thought vary. As a historian Josephus was oriented to the past and reluctant to
offer speculation about the future for political and personal reasons. As a Platonizing interpreter
of Moses, Philo had a vertical rather than a horizontal orientation and was more preoccupied with
ontological than temporal issues. Even so, both make the nod.
How should we understand Philo’s nod? By nod I do not mean that Philo was unconcerned
about the future of individuals or their immortal souls. He was, and addressed the future of the
individual soul on multiple occasions—although even here he is less straightforward than most of
us would prefer.3 What is clear is that he is concerned with the ascent of the soul; the axis is vertical
It is a privilege to contribute this essay in honor of my friend James H. Charlesworth. All of us in the guild are in his debt
for his multiple contributions.
1
Josephus, A.J. 10.276–77. Cf. also 10.280–81; 11.337; 12.322. For a helpful analysis of 10.276–77 see C. T. Begg and P.
Spilsbury, Flavius Josephus Judean Antiquities 8-10, FJTC 5 (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 313–14.
2
Philo, Praem. 79–126 and Mos. 1.285–91.
3
S. Yli-Karjanmaa, Reincarnation in Philo of Alexandria, SPhiloM 7 (Atlanta, GA: SBL Press, 2015), has set off a recent
debate by arguing that Philo accepted the Platonic understanding of reincarnation. For a critique of his argument see D.
T. Runia, “Is Philo Committed to the Doctrine of Reincarnation?” SPhiloA 31 (2019): 107–25. For Philo’s understanding
of the immortality of the soul, see E. R. Goodenough, “Philo on Immortality,” HTR 39 (1946): 85–108, who argues
that Philo vacillated between personal immortality and absorption into our Source but inclined to the latter; and J. von
Ehrenkrook, “The Afterlife in Philo and Josephus,” in Heaven, Hell, and the Afterlife: Eternity in Judaism, Christianity,
and Islam, Volume 1: End Time and Afterlife in Judaism, ed. J. H. Ellens (Santa Barbara, CA: Praeger, 2013), 97–118,
esp. 100–6.
or ontological not horizontal or temporal. In this contribution we are concerned with Philo’s vision
of the future of the people of God on a horizontal or temporal axis.
Philo’s primary vision of the future occurs in his retelling of the blessings and curses attached to
keeping or failing to keep the law. His treatment is part of the Exposition of the Law in which he
retold the entire Pentateuch, beginning with creation in De opificio mundi.4 He retold the stories of
four ancestors as living embodiments of the law in the lives of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph—
although the middle two have been lost. The first three represent different ways to cultivate virtue:5
Abraham through learning, Isaac through nature, and Jacob through practice—a commonplace
scheme in Hellenistic philosophy.6 The exegete next worked systematically through the laws
beginning with the Decalogue and then used the Ten Words as headings for other laws in De
specialibus legibus.7 His orientation to what we call virtue ethics led him to use virtues as headings
for other laws in De virtutibus. Finally, he turned to Deuteronomy and Moses’s exhortation to
keep the law in De praemiis et poeniis. He largely passed over the first two speeches (Deut 1:1–43
and 4:44–26:19) since they had already been covered in his treatments of the laws and dealt with
the final words of blessings and curses (27:1–28:68), a move that ensured coverage of the entire
Pentateuch.
We will examine Philo’s treatment of the blessings that begins after a lacuna in the manuscripts
in which the end of his treatment of the curses and the opening of his treatment of the blessings are
missing.8 We will examine the biblical bases for his eschatological vision, consider the philosophical
bases for it, and finally consider the relationship between the two in our conclusions.
1. THE BIBLICAL BASIS FOR THE VISION

We begin with the biblical basis. Philo introduced the vision with the statement, “Read first the
invocations (εὐχαί) that he is accustomed to call blessings (εὐλογίαι).”9 This is an echo of Deut
28:2: “all these blessings (πᾶσαι αἱ εὐλογίαι αὗται) will come upon you and will find you if you
4
Philo offered his own summary of the Exposition in Mos. 2.45–47; Abr. 1–6; and Praem. 1–3, although the details do not
agree. For an analysis, see G. E. Sterling, “ ‘Prolific in Expression and Broad in Thought’: Internal References to Philo’s
Allegorical Commentary and Exposition of the Law,” Euphrosyne 40 (2012): 55–76, esp. 67–9. M. Niehoff, Philo: An
Intellectual Biography, ABRL (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2017), has recently argued that Philo wrote his
Exposition in Rome. While I agree that it is later than the Allegorical Commentary, the place of composition was probably
more complex and included Alexandria as well as Rome.
5
For the ancestors as symbols of virtue in Philo see Sobr. 65; Congr. 34–38; Mut. 12, 88; Somn. 1.168; Abr. 52–54; Ios.
1; Mos. 1.76; Praem. 24–51, 57–66. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob are the second triad of virtues in Philo. See G. E. Sterling,
“Philo’s De Abrahamo: Introduction,” SPhiloA 20 (2008): 129–31.
6
E.g., Plato, Meno 70a; Aristotle, Eth. nic. 2.1.1103a; 10.9 1179b. Cf. also Isocrates, Antid. 186–8. On the use of this
tradition by Philo see E. Birnbaum, “Exegetical Building Blocks in Philo’s Interpretation of the Patriarchs,” in From Judaism
to Christianity: Tradition and Transition: A Festschrift for Thomas H. Tobin, S.J., on the Occasion of His Sixty-Fifth Birthday,
ed. P. Walters, NovTSup 136 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 69–92.
7
E.g., Philo, Spec. 1.1.
8
Thomas Mangey pointed out the lacuna. On the lacuna see L. Cohn, “Prolegomena,” in Philonis Alexandrini opera quae
supersunt, ed. L. Cohn and P. Wendland, 7 vols. (Berlin: Georg Reiter, 1896–1926), 5, xxviii–xxix; and F. H. Colson in Philo
in Ten Volumes and Two Supplementary Volumes, ed. F. H. Colson and G. H. Whitaker, LCL (Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press, 1929–62), 8.455.
9
Philo, Praem. 79. All translations are my own unless otherwise noted. He used εὐχαί again in §126 (cf. also §84 where it is
used for prayers).
When Ontology Meets Eschatology 203
genuinely hear the voice of the Lord your God.” In the biblical text, the noun blessing (εὐλογία) is
echoed in the blessings that follow10 along with verbal forms of εὐλογέω.11 It is clear that Philo is
working within the framework of Deut 28:1–14 (Table 14.1).12
However, as we will see, he is also aware that other texts in the Pentateuch contain lists of
blessings and curses and weaves them into his discussion, primarily Lev 26:3–13 and secondarily
Exod 23:23–33.13 While the ancient Alexandrian did not understand the critical place of blessings
and curses at the end of ANE legal codes,14 he knew the Greek text of the Pentateuch intimately
and wove statements from the two other major examples of blessings and curses in the Pentateuch
into his retelling of Deut 28:3–13.
I have set the specifics of Philo’s use of the biblical text into a chart for the sake of simplicity. Let
me offer a couple of preliminary explanations. In the left column I have listed the headings of the
blessings on the basis of the transitional markers that Philo provided. Philo is explicit in listing three
primary blessings: victory over enemies or peace, wealth accompanied by progeny and a long life,
and the body. He makes the primary character of these three blessings clear through his transitional
statements from one blessing to the next.15 As we noted above, the opening transitional statement
has been largely lost in the transmission of the text: we have only a fragment of it (§79). However,
the final transitional statement summarizing his treatment of the last blessings (§§118–125) and
10
Deut 28:8.
11
The participial form in Deut 28:3ab, 4, 5, 6ab; and the infinitive form in 28:12.
12
See also D. Lincicum, Paul and the Early Jewish Encounter with Deuteronomy, WUNT II/284 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck,
2010), 109–10; contra T. H. Tobin, “Philo and the Sibyl: Interpreting Philo’s Eschatology,” SPhiloA 9 (1997): 84–103, esp.
96–7. I do agree with Tobin that Leviticus 26 forms the structural framework for the larger discourse since it includes a
treatment of restoration that Deuteronomy lacks (Lev 26:40–45//Philo, Praem. 163–72).
13
Cf. also Josh 24:20 for an example outside the Pentateuch.
14
The Code of Hammurabi provides an excellent illustration:
If that man [king] has heeded my words, which I wrote on my stela, and did not rescind my law, has not distorted my
words, did not alter my statutes, may Shamash make that man reign as long as I, the king of justice; may he shepherd his
people in justice! If that man did not heed my words which I wrote on my stela, and disregarded my curses, and did not
fear the curses of the gods … may mighty Anum, the father of the gods, who proclaimed my reign, deprive him of the
glory of sovereignty, may he break his scepter, may he curse his fate. (reverse xxvi; see ANET 1:178–9)
15
Philo introduced the first blessing with these words: “the first gift you will have is victory over your enemies” (Praem.
79). He will later use the word “peace” when reflecting back on this initial blessing (§118). The transition between the first
blessing of victory/peace and the second of wealth is in Praem. 98, “he says that these are the first blessings that will come
to those who follow God and always, and in every place embrace his commandments and bring these into harmony with
each part of life so that nothing can change the pattern of life effected by disease. The second is wealth that by necessity
follows peace and secure rule.” There is a secondary transitional statement in the form of an objection within the second
blessing of wealth (Praem. 108), “But someone will say, ‘What profit is there from these things for one who does not leave
heirs and successors?” It would be possible to argue that this is a transition statement marking the shift from the second to
the third blessing, but the absence of progeny and long life in the subsequent summary leads me to consider it a secondary
transition within the second blessing. It also creates a symmetry in the structure of the first two blessings that both have two
major subunits. The transition from the second blessing of wealth accompanied by progeny and long life to the third blessing
related to the body is Praem. 118:
The external goods have now been discussed: victories over enemies, power in wars, the establishments of peace, the
abundance of good things in times of peace, honors, offices, and the encomia that accompany those who are successful,
who are praised by everyone mouth—both those of friends and those of opponents, some by fear and others by goodwill.
It is necessary to speak about a weightier matter than these, the affairs of the body.
TABLE 14.1 The Biblical Basis for Philo’s Vision of the Future
Content Praem. LXX
Introduction 79 Deut 28:2

Victory over enemies (Peace) 79–97 Deut 28:7
Introduction to blessings 79–84
Transition 79
If you listen 79a Deut 28:1–2; Lev 26:3
The command is near you 80b Deut 30:11–14
Thoughts/words/actions 81–84
A nation that calls on God 84c Deut 4:7
Beast peace 85–90 Lev 26:6, Isa 11:6–9
Human peace 91–97d Deut 28:7; Lev 26:6
Humans will follow beasts 91–92
War will not pass through 93 Lev 26:6
Attackers will flee 94e Lev 26:7–8; Deut 28:7
A man shall come forth 95f Num 24:7
Hornets 96–97 Exod 23:28; Deut 7:20
Wealth 98–117 Deut 28:8–14, 3–6
Transition 98
Wealth
Food and shelter 99–100 Deut 28:5
Divine promise 101–104
Season upon season 101–103 Lev 26:3–5; Deut 11:13–14
Barns 104g Deut 28:8; Lev 26:10
Impiety produces poverty 105
Oppression at present 106
Loans to nations 107h Deut 28:12; 15:6
Abundance in city and field 107 Deut 28:3, 11
Livestock abundant 107 Deut 28:4, 11; 7:13
Progeny and long life 108–117
Transition 108
Law of nature for procreation 108–109 Exod 23:26a
Long life 110–112 Exod 23:26b
Blessed in dealings 113–114 Deut 28:6
Restoration of exiles 115–117i Deut 30:4–5
The body and virtue 118–125
Transition 118
Freedom from disease 119 Deut 7:15
The house of the soul 120
The mind 121–122
God walks in palace 123j Lev 26:12
God broke the bonds 124 Lev 26:13
The virtuous as head 125 Deut 28:13
Summary and transition 126
a
Cf. also Philo, Virt. 47–48, which is a loose paraphrase of Deut 28:1–2, 7 and Lev 26:3, 6–8.
b
Cf. also Philo, Post. 84–88; Mut. 236–51; Somn. 2.179–80; Virt. 183–84; and Prob. 80. See below for details.
c
Cf. also Philo, Migr. 56.
d
Cf. also Philo, Virt. 47–48.
e
Cf. also Philo, Virt. 47–48.
f
Cf. also Philo, Mos. 1.285–91, esp. 289–91.
g
Cf. also Philo, Sacr. 79; Her. 279.
h
Cf. also Philo, Leg. 3.104; Deus 156; Her. 76, where he also treats Deut 28:12.
i
Cf. also Philo, Conf. 197–98 (Deut 30:4); Praem. 168 (Deut 30:5).
j
Cf. also Philo, Sacr. 87; Mut. 266; Somn. 1.148; 2.248.
setting up the curses is intact (§126). The use of transitional statements is relatively common in
Philo and helps the reader follow the line of argumentation.16 The basic structure and sequence
of the blessings are thus Philonic in design, an important point to which we will return. The
summaries of the contents beneath these headings are my attempts to provide a quick indication
of the basic contents Philo incorporated within each of the major blessings. I have indented these
subunits to reflect their subordinate nature to the primary blessings. The center column has the
Philonic references. When Philo cited the same biblical text elsewhere in his writings, I have added
a footnote with the reference(s). The absence of a note indicates that he has not cited the biblical
text under consideration beyond the summary of the blessings in Praem. In the right column I have
listed the biblical text from which Philo principally worked first and the parallel(s) second. I have
also put texts that may have inspired him but that he does not cite or echo verbally in italics to
indicate my tentative judgment about their use.
Several patterns emerge from this evidence. Philo is working principally from Deuteronomy.
When there are parallels between Deuteronomy 28 and Leviticus 26, Deuteronomy 28 is his base
with two exceptions: his description of the flight of the attackers in §94 and his discussion of God’s
continual blessing of season upon season at §§101–103.17 Nonetheless, he appears to have made
full use of both Deut 28:1–14 and Lev 26:3–13. The most notable exclusions are the covenant
language in Deut 29:9 and Lev 26:9 and 11. This is not a surprise: Philo understood διαθήκη as last
will and considered it a divine gift that applies primarily to the soul.18
Philo has expanded his treatment of the blessings in Deuteronomy 28 and Leviticus 26 by
incorporating blessings from other texts, most notably from the list of blessings in Exodus 23 at
the conclusion of the Book of the Covenant19 and from elsewhere in Deuteronomy. He added
16
E.g., Philo, Plant. 28, 73, 94, 139–40, 150, 156, 165, 173, are transitional statements or explicit markers that set out the
basic structure of the treatise. See A. Geljon and D. T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria On Planting: Introduction, Translation, and
Commentary, PACS 5 (Leiden: Brill, 2019), 10–16, esp. 16.
17
Tobin, “Philo and the Sibyl,” 84–103, esp. 96–7, emphasized the importance of Leviticus 26 for Philo (see above). He
published a second and expanded version of this contribution as “Reconfiguring Eschatological Imagery: The Examples of
Philo of Alexandria and Paul of Tarsus,” SPhiloA 28 (2016): 351–74.
18
On the concept of covenant in Philo see E. Birnbaum, The Place of Judaism in Philo’s Thought: Israel, Jews, and Proselytes,
BJS 290/SPhiloM 2 (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1996), 128–92; M. Vogel, Das Heil des Bundes: Bundestheologie im
Frühjudemtum und im Frühen Christentum, TANZ 18 (Tübingen: A. Francke, 1996), 210–19; L. L. Grabbe, “Did all
Jews Think Alike? ‘Covenant’ in Philo and Josephus in the Context of Second Temple Judaic Religion,” in The Concept of
Covenant in the Second Temple Period, ed. S. E. Porter and J. C. R. de Roo, JSJSup 71 (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 251–66; and
G. E. Sterling, “Thunderous Silence: The Omission of the Sinai Pericope in Philo of Alexandria,” JSJ 49 (2018): 449–74,
esp. 462–3.
19
Exod 20:22–23:19.
two texts from Exodus: the hornets that God would send to fight the enemies of Israel and the
promise of progeny and long life.20 He added four other texts from Deuteronomy: the famous
statement that the command is near you,21 the greatness of the nation that calls on God,22 the
restoration of exiles,23 and the promise of freedom from disease—a promise that Philo felt
compelled to qualify.24
There are two other texts that appear to have inspired Philo’s comments, although they may
have done so through traditions that also appear in the third Sibylline Oracle. Both occur in Philo’s
treatment of the first blessing, peace. Philo opened his discussion by distinguishing between two types
of enmity: the enmity that animals have as a result of natural antipathy (§§85–90) and the enmity
among humans produced by selfishness (§§91–97). In his discussion of the enmity of animals he
proceeded to envision a period when animals that are natural enemies are at peace with virtuous
humans. He might be drawing from the statement in Lev 26:6: “I will remove harmful animals from
your land.” However, the pairing of animals that are naturally enemies makes those familiar with the
biblical text think of Isa 11:6–9.25 Yet Philo makes a different point than the eighth-century prophet.
Rather than juxtaposing pairs that are natural enemies living together in peace, Philo listed animals
that are aggressive toward humans and suggests that they will be tame. This led Isaac Heinemann to
deny that Philo was drawing from Isaiah 11 and to suggest that he had drawn instead from the second
or first century bce Sibylline Oracle 3.26 The strength of Heinemann’s suggestion is that Sib. Or. 3
includes the statement that “he will make the beasts on earth harmless.”27 The weakness is that the
20
Exod 23:28 at §§96–97 is one of two references to hornets; the other is Deut 7:20. It is difficult to know which text Philo
had in mind or if he simply knew the tradition and did not have a specific reference in mind. I have placed Exodus as the
primary reference since he is clearly aware of the blessings in Exodus 23. We know this from his treatment of Exod 23:26
at §§108–112. He also treats Exod 23:26 in QE 2.19–20. QE 2.19 deals with Exod 23:26a just as Praem. 108–109 and QE
2.20 analyze Exod 23:26b in parallel with Praem. 110–112.
21
Deut 30:11–14 in Philo, Praem. 80. He also deals with this text in five other treatises (see n. b below chart). In all of these
texts Philo makes the same point about the necessity of bringing harmony to words, thoughts, and actions. On this text see
P. J. Bekken, The Word Is Near You: A Study of Deuteronomy 30:12-14 in Paul’s Letter to the Romans in a Jewish Context,
BZNW 144 (Berlin: Gruyter, 2007), who argues that Paul uses Deut 30:11–14 in a similar manner that Philo does. Cf. also
P. J. Bekken, “Paul’s Use of Deut. 20:12-14 in Jewish Context,” in The New Testament and Hellenistic Judaism, ed. P. Borgen
and S. Giversen (Aarhus: Aarhus University Press, 1995), 183–204.
22
Deut 4:7 in Philo, Praem. 84. Cf. also Migr. 56–59. Philo makes the same point in both texts.
23
Deut 30:4–5 in Philo, Praem. 115–117. This is the only reference to this text in Philo’s corpus.
24
Deut 7:15 in Philo, Praem. 119. This is the only reference to this text in Philo’s corpus.
25
See also Hos 2:18; Job 5:23. For Philo’s use of Isa 11 see F. H. Colson, PLCL, 8:455–456, who argued against Heinemann
(see n. 26 below). N. Cohen, Philo’s Scriptures: Citations from the Prophets and Writings. Evidence for a Haftarah Cycle
in Second Temple Judaism, JSJSup 123 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 77–8, questioned whether Philo used Isaiah 11 in this text.
Philo rarely used the prophets. For details see G. E. Sterling, “Jeremiah as Mystagogue: Jeremiah in Philo of Alexandria,” in
Jeremiah’s Scriptures, ed. K. Schmidt and H. Najman, JSJSup (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 417–30, esp. 417–18.
26
I. Heinemann, Philons griechische und jüdische Bildung: Kulturvergeichende Untersuchungen zu Philons Darstellung der
jüdischen Gesetze, Bericht des Jüdisch-theologischen Seminars Fraenckelscher Stiftung für das Jar 1929 (Breslau: M&H
Marcus, n.d.; repr. Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1962), 419. See Sib. Or. 3.788–95:
Wolves and lambs will eat grass together in the mountains. / Leopards will feed together with young goats. / Wandering
bears will spend the night with calves. / The flesh-eating lion will eat husks in the manger / like an ox, and children—even
infants—will lead them / with ropes. For he will make the beasts on earth harmless. / Serpents and asps will sleep together
with babies / and will not harm them, for the hand of God will rest upon them.
27
Sib. Or. 3.794.
Sibyl appears to have been influenced by Isa 11:6–9. In fact, Isaiah, Sib. Or. 3, and Philo all have one
pair in common: they all juxtapose wolves and lambs.28 Whether Philo drew directly from Isa 11:6–9
or knew Sib. Or. 3, it appears that the Isaianic vision of beast peace was known to Philo. Besides the
biblical tradition it is also worth remembering that Vergil employed the image of beast peace in his
Fourth Ecologue.29
The other text is the famous Messianic text from Num 24:7 and 17.30 The LXX that is
considerably different than the Hebrew reads: “A man will come from his seed and he will rule
over many nations; his kingdom will be exalted above Gog and his kingdom will be expanded
… a star will ascend from Jacob and a man will arise from Israel.” Philo’s treatment of Numbers
24 is similar to the heavenly Messianic figure in Sib. Or. 3 and 5 which may also be based on
Numbers 24.31 While the clearest evidence is from Sib. Or. 5 that is dated to the end of the first
century ce, the concurrence of exegetical treatments suggests that Philo and the Sibyl both knew a
common tradition. The similarities between Philo and the Sibylline Oracles suggest that Philo knew
exegetical traditions that circulated in apocalyptic circles and incorporated them in his own vision
of Israel’s future.32
28
Isa 11:6; Sib. Or. 3.788; Philo, Praem. 87.
29
Virgil, Ecl. 4.22–2, “cattle will not fear large lions/ and the serpent will disappear.” Cf. also Aristophanes, Pax 1075.
30
Num 24:7 in Philo, Praem. 95. Cf. also Mos. 1.290 and Sib. Or. 3.49. There has been an extensive debate on Philo’s
understanding of the Messiah. Some deny that Philo anticipated a Messiah, e.g., J. Drummond, Philo Judaeus; or, the Jewish
Alexandrian Philosophy in Its Development and Completion, 2 vols. (London: Williams and Norgate, 1888), 2.321–22,
who wrote: “Especially will the Israelites be blessed, being gathered together into their own land under the leadership of
a wonderful vision; but of a distinctly Messianic hope I still fail to discover any trace”; E. R. Goodenough, The Politics
of Philo Judaeus: Practice and Theory (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1938), 115–19, who thought that the
Messiah referred to the people of Israel; A. Jaubert, La notion de l’alliance dans le Judaïsme aux abords de lère chrétienne
(Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1983), 383–5, who recognized the place of Messianism but qualified it: “Cela ne signifie pas
que le messianisme soit absent de l’ œuvre de Philon. Mais le role du Messie y est singulièrement effacé”; B. L. Mack,
“Wisdom and Apocalyptic in Philo,” SPhiloA 3 (1991): 21–39, who countered Borgen’s view (see below) and spoke of a
restoration without a Messiah; G. S. Oegema, Der Gesalbte und sein Volk: Untersuchungen zum Konzeptualisierungsprozeß
der messianischen Erwartungen von den Makkabäern bis Bar Koziba, SIJD 2 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht,
1994), 115–22, who sees a development away from a military figure in Philo; L. L. Grabbe, “Eschatology in Philo
and Josephus,” in Death, Life-after-Death, Resurrection and the World-to-Come in the Judaisms of Antiquity, vol. 4
of Judaism in Late Antiquity, ed. A. J. Avery Peck and J. Neusner, HdO 1.51.4 (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 163–85, esp.
169–72, who offers a rejoinder to Borgen (below); Tobin, “Philo and the Sibyl,” 95, who argued that Philo recast the
Sibylline traditions; and J. Lust, Messianism and the Septuagint: Collected Essays, BETL 178 (Leuven: Leuven University
Press, 2004), 69–86, esp. 81–2. Others have argued that Philo held a view of Messiah, although they vary in their
assessments, e.g., F. Grégoire, “Le Messie chez Philon d’Alexandrie,” ETL 12 (1935): 28–50; G. Betram, “Philo also
politisch-theologischer Propagandist des spätantiken Judentums,” ThLZ 64 (1939): 193–9, esp. 197; J. de Savignac,
“Le messianisme de Philon d’Alexandrie,” NovT 4 (1960): 319–24; E. Schürer, The History of the Jewish People in the
Age of Jesus Christ, rev. G. Vermes, F. Millar, and M. Black, 3 vols. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1973–87), 2.507–10, who
compare Philo’s understanding of the figure in Num 24:4 with the Messianic figure at Qumran (509 n.28); P. Borgen,
“ ‘There Shall Come Forth a Man’: Reflections on Messianic Ideas in Philo,” in The Messiah: Developments in Earliest
Judaism and Christianity, ed. J. H. Charlesworth (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1992), 341–61; J. Kügler, Pharao
und Christus? Religionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zur Frage einer Verbindung zwischen altägyptischer Königstheologie
und neutestamentlicher Christologie im Lukasevangelium, BBB 113 (Bodenheim: PHILO, 1997), 229–33; and L. Miralles
Maciá, “La figura del mesías gegún los historiadores judeo-helenísticos Filón de Alejandría y Flavio Josefo,” Sefarad 64
(2004): 363–95, esp. 364–9.
31
See Tobin, “Philo and the Sibyl,” 90–1, 95. See esp. Sib. Or. 3.49; 5.108, 155, 256, 414.
32
Tobin, “Philo and the Sibyl,” 94–103, argued that Philo revised them to downplay potential social upheaval that apocalyptic
visions might inspire.
There is a final observation about Philo’s use of the biblical text. While the chart makes it clear
that Philo has taken his point d’appui from the biblical text and incorporated a range of texts
into his discussion, he has arranged his material in a way that is different than any of the biblical
accounts of blessings. His arrangement flows nicely, but it is not the biblical sequence. Further, he
has incorporated elements that are not biblical. These two facts lead us to consider other traditions
that may have influenced his view of Israel’s future.
2. THE PHILOSOPHICAL BASIS FOR THE VISION

How do we explain Philo’s arrangement of material and how do we account for the non-biblical
elements? I suggest that Philo drew from the philosophical tradition. We will begin with the clearest
evidence and then move to a more tenuous hypothesis.
2.1. Specific Content

The first is predictable and unsurprising. Philo augmented the blessings in the biblical text by
including philosophical elements. There are at least ten of these in the present vision, enough to
make us realize that Philo has not simply repeated the biblical text but has read it through a distinct
prism. For the sake of clarity, I will list the ten in the sequence in which they appear in Philo’s
presentation in Praem. 79–126.
2.1.1. Words/Thoughts/Deeds (λόγοι/διάνοιαι/πράξεις)

The first occurs in Philo’s customary interpretation of Deut 30:11–14. He consistently interpreted
the final statement, “the word is very close to you, in your mouth, in your heart, and in your hands
to do it,” to require the harmony of words/thoughts/deeds among humans.33 The Alexandrian
exegete wrote: “It is next to you, very near, established firmly in the three parts that are in each of
us, ‘in your mouth, in your heart, and in your hand,’ that are figures for word, thought, and deeds
(λόγῳ καὶ διανοίᾳ καὶ πράξεσιν).”34 While this has a clear basis in the biblical text, it is a standard
aphorism in philosophical circles—especially among Stoics. For example, Seneca wrote: “Let us say
what we feel, let us think what we say; let word be in harmony with life.”35
2.1.2. Conscience (τὸ συνειδός)

At the conclusion of his treatment of Deut 30:11–14, Philo cited Deut 4:7: “What great nation
is there for whom God is near them as the Lord our God is whenever we call on him?” Philo has
rewritten this as, “If someone should ask, ‘What type of nation is great?, some might appropriately
respond, ‘A nation for whom God is a responder to their pious prayers and draws near when they
call on him with a pure conscience (ἀπὸ καθαροῦ τοῦ συνειδότος).’ ”36 The reference to conscience
33
On Philo’s use of this motif, see N. G. Cohen, “The Greek Virtues and the Mosaic Laws in Philo,” SPhiloA 5 (1993): 9–23,
esp. 19–23; and N. G. Cohen, Philo Judaeus: His Universe of Discourse, BEATAJ 24 (Frankfurt am Main: Lang, 1995),
99–105.
34
Philo, Praem. 80.
35
Seneca, Ep. 75.4. See also 114.1 and Cicero, Tusc. 5.47, who credited the origin of this concept to Socrates.
36
Philo, Praem. 84.
is significant. Philo is the first witness that we have to this concept, although he probably did not
create it.37 He appears to have derived it from Stoic sources.38
2.1.3. The Wealth of Nature (ὁ πλοῦτος φύσεως)

As Philo began to unpack the second major blessing, wealth, he wrote: “The inexpensive wealth
of nature (πλοῦτος δὲ ὁ μὲν τῆς φύσεως εὐτελής) is food and shelter.”39 Philo referred to the wealth
of nature on at least three other occasions in his corpus.40 This is another concept found in
philosophical literature. Epicurus is reported to have said: “The wealth of nature is both limited
and easy to procure.”41
2.1.4. The Law of Nature (ὁ νόμος φύσεως)

The next expression is a famous concept. As Philo opens his discussion of the third blessing, he
turns his attention to the need to leave wealth to offspring and says that “no man will be without
offspring and no woman barren, but all the genuine servants of God will fulfill the law of nature
that relates to procreation (νόμον ἐκπληρώσουσι φύσεως τὸν ἐπὶ παιδοποιίᾳ).”42 The expression
“the law of nature” set off a well-known debate. Helmut Koester suggested that Philo made the
expression popular,43 but Richard Horsley pointed out that Cicero had already used the phrase.44
For example, the Roman wrote, “True law is right reason in agreement with nature.”45 The debate
extends back to Plato and the early Stoics.46 In the formulation that we find here, it appears to be a
Stoic concept that Cicero and Philo embraced.47
2.1.5. Immortality (ἀθανασία)

Philo based his understanding of procreation on the blessing in Exod 23:26a. He extended his
treatment to the second half of the verse that promised long days and suggested that long life was
another form of this blessing since it is at an advanced age that one can see a house full of descendants.
Philo explained that a long-lived individual passed through every stage of life until “he reaches the
last, the neighbor of death or rather immortality (ἀθανασία).”48 Philo believed in the immortality of
the soul.49 One of his fundamental anthropological views is the distinction between the body and the
37
On Philo’s use of conscience see P. R. Bosman, Conscience in Philo and Paul: A Conceptual History of the History of the
Synoideia Word Group, WUNT II/166 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003); and P. R. Bosman, “Conscience and Free Speech in
Philo,” SPhiloA 18 (2006): 33–47.
38
For the use of conscience in Epictetus see A. A. Long, “Stoicism in the Philosophical Tradition: Spinosa, Lipsius, Butler,” in
The Cambridge Companion to the Stoics, ed. B. Inwood (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 365–92, esp. 385–8.
39
Philo, Praem. 99. See §§99–100.
40
Philo, Somn. 1.126, bread and clothing; 2.40, self-control and frugality; Virt. 7, air, water, food.
41
Diogenes Laertius 10.144. Cf. also Plutarch, Adol. poet. aud. 37A.
42
Philo, Praem. 108.
43
H. Koester, “ΝΟΜΟΣ ΦΥΣΕΩΣ: The Concept of Natural Law in Greek Thought,” in Religions of Antiquity: Essays in
Memory of E. R. Goodenough, ed. J. Neusner, SHR 14 (Leiden: Brill, 1968), 521–41.
44
R. A. Horsley, “The Law of Nature in Philo and Cicero,” HTR 71 (1978): 35–59.
45
Cicero, Rep. 3.33.
46
E.g., for the view of Chrysippus see Plutarch, Stoic rep. 1035c; 1037–8; and Diogenes Laertius 7.128.
47
For the different Platonic and Stoic elements see the introduction and six essays in SPhiloA 14 (2003): 1–99.
48
Philo, Praem. 110.
49
For recent treatments, see C. D. Elledge, “Resurrection and Immortality in Hellenistic Judaism: Navigating the Conceptual
Boundaries,” in Christian Origins and Hellenistic Judaism: Social and Literary Contexts for the New Testament, ed. S. E.
soul. In his interpretation of Gen 2:7 he wrote, “For what he breathed in was nothing other than the
divine spirit (πνεῦμα), a colony sent here from that blessed and happy nature for the benefit of our
race so that even if it is mortal with respect to its visible part, it may become immortal with respect to
its invisible part.” He concluded: “For this reason someone may correctly say that a human is on the
borderline between the mortal and the immortal, having a share in each to the degree necessary; it is
mortal with respect to the body and immortal with respect to the mind.”50 While he was not alone
in accepting the immortality of the soul,51 he did so under the influence of Platonism.
2.1.6. Neither with Account nor with Number (οὔτ᾽ ἐν λόγῳ οὔτ᾽ ἀριθμῷ)
Philo offered a contrast to Exod 23:26b, “you will fulfill the number of your days,” by citing a well-
known saying: “For they say that the unlearned and lawless are neither with account nor with number
(οὔτ᾽ ἐν λόγῳ οὔτ᾽ ἀριθμῷ).”52 The aphorism circulated among several philosophical circles. Perhaps
the most notable is the statement some of Pythagoras’s students made when they said: “He considered
his companions equal to the blessed gods, but others he considered neither with account nor with
number (οὔτ᾽ ἐν λόγῳ οὔτ᾽ ἀριθμῷ).”53
2.1.7. Excellence of Character (καλοκἀγαθία)

Philo went on to comment on the fact that the Scripture did not use month or year but day as a way
to describe a person’s life. He understood this to suggest that a person must fill every day of life with
“excellence of character (καλοκἀγαθία).”54 This is a term that never occurs in the Pentateuch55 but that
Philo used seventy-seven times. He considered it to be the sum of the virtues. In his life of Abraham he
wrote: “The lover of moral excellence (καλοκἀγαθία) has the teachings of each virtue and the principles
of wisdom herself.”56 The virtue was developed in Greece and became a standard part of virtue ethics
in the Greek philosophical tradition. For example, the Pseudo-Aristotelian Magna Moralia has the
following: “The term moral excellence (ἡ καλοκἀγαθία) is not inappropriately used for the person of
perfect goodness (ἐπὶ τοῦ τελέως σπουδαίου). For they say that a person is morally excellent (καλὸς
κἀγαθός) when he is perfectly good (τελέως σπουδαῖος).”57
Porter and A. W. Pitts, TENTS 10 (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 101–33, esp. 104–7; von Ehrenkrook, “The Afterlife in Philo and
Josephus,” 1.100–6; and Yli-Karjanmaa, Reincarnation in Philo of Alexandria.
50
Philo, Opif. 135.
51
E.g., Wis 2:22–23; 8:19; 9:15. On immortality in Wisdom, see G. E. Sterling, “The Love of Wisdom: Middle Platonism
and Stoicism in the Wisdom of Solomon,” in From Stoicism to Platonism: The Development of Philosophy 100 BCE–100
CE, ed. T. Engberg-Pedersen (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017), 198–213.
52
Philo, Praem. 111.
53
Iamblichus, VP 208.
54
Philo, Praem. 112.
55
It appears in 4 Macc 1:8, 10; 3:18; 11:22; 13:25; 15:9 but nowhere else in the LXX.
56
Philo, Abr. 220.
57
Ps-Aristotle, Mag. mor. 2.9.2. See also Aristotle, Eth. nic. 4.3.16. Epictetus 4.1.164, traced the concept back to
Socrates: “Socrates did not save himself dishonorably, did not put it to the vote when the Athenians required, disdained
tyrants, and discoursed admirably about virtue and moral excellence (περὶ ἀρετῆς καὶ καλοκἀγαθίας); it was impossible to
save such a person dishonorably, instead he was saved by dying, not fleeing.”
2.1.8. House of the Soul (οἰκία ψυχῆς)

As Philo explained the final blessings that dealt with the body, he called the body “the house of
the soul (οἰκία δὲ ψυχῆς).”58 This is one of a series of metaphors that Philo used to describe the
relationship between the soul and the body: some are positive and some are more negative. On the
positive side Philo referred to the body as an οἰκία or οἶκος of the soul59 or the garment worn by the
soul.60 On the negative side he referred to the body as the soul’s grave61 or the soul’s prison.62 One
of Philo’s favorite metaphors is the river metaphor based on the Timaeus 43A–D.63 In all of these
examples, the distinction between the body and soul in Philo rests on a Platonic anthropology.64
2.1.9. The Mind (ὁ νοῦς)

Philo went on to specify that the “house of the soul” needed to be well built “especially for the sake
of the mind.”65 For Philo the mind is the imago Dei. In one of the most impressive passages in his
corpus, he explained his understanding: “Let no one compare the image to the character of a body.
For neither is God in human form nor is the human body godlike. The image refers to the mind,
the leader of the soul.”66 The statement in Praem. is a summary of Philo’s Platonic anthropology.
2.1.10. Likeness to God (ὁμοίωσις θεῷ)

The final reference to philosophical concepts occurs in his concluding summary. Philo wrote:
These are the blessings pronounced on good humans who fulfill the laws with their actions,
blessings that—he says—will be brought about by the grace of the generous God who honors
and rewards good things because of their likeness to himself (διὰ τὴν πρὸς αὑτὸν ὁμοιότητα).67
The final phrase appears to be an allusion to the telos of Middle Platonists taken from Plato’s
Theaetetus: the goal of human beings is “likeness to God.”68 Plato wrote, “So then it is necessary
to try to flee there as quickly as possible; flight is likeness to God (ὁμοίωσις θεῷ), to the extent
possible.”69 Philo quoted Plato in Fug. and alluded to this statement in Spec.70 In our text, the
Alexandrian suggested that humans who are like God will enjoy God’s blessings.
58
Philo, Praem. 120.
59
Philo, Opif. 137; Det. 33, 163; Deus 150; Conf. 27; Migr. 93; Praem. 120–21.
60
Philo, Leg. 2.22, 55; Gig. 53; Deus 56; Fug. 110; Somn. 1.43; QG 1.53; 4.1, 78.
61
Sometimes Philo used the famous σῶμα/σῆμα wordplay (Philo, Leg. 1.108; Spec. 4.188). At other times he used τύμβος
(Deus 150; Somn. 1.139). Cf. also Migr. 16; QG 1.70; 2.69; 4.75, 153.
62
Philo, Leg. 3.42; Ebr. 101; Migr. 9; Her. 68, 85; Somn. 1.139.
63
Philo, Gig. 13; Agr. 88–89; Somn. 1.147; 2.109.
64
See the discussion of Yli-Karjanmaa, Reincarnation in Philo of Alexandria, 31, 114–16, 119–20, for the Platonic nature of
these metaphors.
65
Philo, Praem. 121. See §§121–22.
66
Philo, Opif. 69–71. On the imago Dei in Philo see G. E. Sterling, “Different Traditions or Emphases: The Image of God
in Philo’s De opificio mundi,” in New Approaches to the Study of Biblical Interpretation in Judaism of the Second Temple
Period and in Early Christianity. Proceedings of the Eleventh International Symposium of the Orion Center for the Study of
the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature, January 2007, ed. G. Anderson et al., STDJ 106 (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 41–56.
67
Philo, Praem. 126.
68
J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, 80 B.C. to A.D. 220, rev. ed. (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1996), 9–10, 44, 114,
122–3 (Eudorus), 145–6 (Philo), 192–3 (Plutarch), 298–9 (Alcinous), 335 (Apuleius), 409.
69
Plato, Theaet. 176A–B.
70
Philo, Fug. 63 (cf. also §82) and Spec. 4.188. On the concept in Philo see G. van Kooten, Paul’s Anthropology in
Context: The Image of God, Assimilation to God, and Tripartite Man in Ancient Judaism, Ancient Philosophy and Early
Christianity, WUNT 232 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 181–99.
These ten concepts indicate that Philo has given a philosophical coloring to his eschatological
vision. Yet they are largely patina added to the blessings of the biblical text, a patina that can hardly
cause surprise to anyone familiar with Philo. Is there anything more substantial?
2.2. The Sequence of Blessings

As we noted above, the sequence in which Philo treats blessings is puzzling from the perspective
of the biblical text. Philo followed neither the sequence in Deut 28:1–14 nor the sequence in
Lev 26:3–13. Why arrange the blessings in the sequence that we have? One possibility might be
that they flow through a natural progression. Philo is able to mark the transitions from peace to
prosperity to progeny and long life and finally to the body in ways that make good sense. Peace is
often associated with wealth. An aspect of wealth is the size of a family that represents a blessing.
Good health enables someone to enjoy all of this, especially when good health is a sign of virtue.
But why start with peace?
I began to ask myself if I could think of a vision of an ideal state that opened with peace. The first
example that came to mind was Plato’s Republic. While we might argue about the structure of the
Republic, a number of ancients thought that it opened with a discussion of peace. So, for example,
Alcinous began his summary of Middle Platonic politics with this statement: “In this work (the
Republic) he (Plato) first sketched out the state of being free from war and then the state of being in
a fever and at war, investigating which are the best and how they can be established.”71
The statement that Plato began with peace and war made me wonder if Philo had been influenced
by Plato’s ideal state. However, one agreement does not indicate much. Then I thought about the
summary of Socrates’s previous discourse in the opening section of the Timaeus. As is well known
the dialogue begins with an exchange between Socrates and Timaeus in which Socrates summarized
the discussion they had the previous day. There is a debate over the identity of the speech. It
may be the Republic since Socrates was the narrator in the Republic and the correspondences
between Socrates’s summary in the Timaeus and the contents of the Republic are striking. There
are, however, problems with this identification since the summary only covers parts of the Republic
2–5 (§§369–471). Whether it was the Republic or not,72 the summary in the Timaeus resembles
the Republic and is what is most relevant for our purposes. Socrates suggested that the first topic
was the division of workers into classes, especially the separation between those who worked in
agriculture and crafts from the defenders or guardians who defend the city in a time of war.73 He
then turned to the training of the guardians. He expanded most on their relationship to money
and wealth.74 Socrates concluded his summary by speaking of women, procreation, and children.75
There is a noteworthy agreement between the basic sequence of the blessings in Philo’s
eschatological vision in Praem. and Socrates’s summary of the Republic in the Timaeus: the first
two blessings and some of their subunits in Philo’s discussion are mentioned explicitly and in the
71
Alcinous, Did. 34.1.
72
F. M. Cornford, Plato’s Cosmology: The Timaeus of Plato Translated with a Running Commentary (London: Routledge &
Kegan Paul, 1937), 4–5.
73
Plato, Tim. 17C–18A.
74
Plato, Tim. 18A–B.
75
Plato, Tim. 18C–19A.
same sequence. Both begin with peace, move to wealth, and then deal with families. But what about
the third blessing, the blessings for the body? Philo concluded in the same way that Plato had. They
both made the moral argument that it was necessary to be virtuous. It is true that Plato’s argument
in the Republic occurs in book 9 and there is a 10th book that addresses poetry and immortality,
but the basic moral argument of the Republic is completed in book 9.
Did Philo use this summary as a structure for his vision of Israel’s future? The Alexandrian
certainly knew Plato’s Republic and the Timaeus. He alluded to the Republic at least twenty-five
times in his corpus, although not openly in Praem.76 He knew and used the Timaeus even more
extensively. He cited or paraphrased the Timaeus sixteen times77 and alluded to it an additional
110 times, although again not openly in Prob.78 However, the debt is more profound than citations/
paraphrases or allusions suggest. David Runia has demonstrated that Plato’s Timaeus had a profound
influence on Philo.79 What about Socrates’s summary of the Republic in the Timaeus? Philo alluded
to the beginning of the account in his De vita Moysis.80 It is safe to conclude that Philo knew both
Plato’s Republic and Timaeus and knew them firsthand, including the summary of the Republic at
the beginning of the Timaeus.
I suggest that Philo used Socrates’s summary of the Republic as a framework for his description
of the future state of Israel—whether he used it consciously or subconsciously. His use is similar
to the ways in which he incorporated philosophical motifs into the specific blessings: he did not
cite philosophical sources but employed language that reminded readers of philosophical motifs.
Similarly, he did not call attention to Socrates’s summary, but followed it. There is at least one
reason why Philo may not have wanted to call explicit attention to Socrates’s summary: Socrates
reminded Timaeus that he had suggested that marriages and children should be held in common,
a proposition with which Philo would have disagreed.81 The use of the framework of Plato’s ideal
state posed no challenge to the explicit references to the biblical text and the parts of Plato’s ideal
that were problematic were ignored. The summary of the Republic simply became an organizing
76
D. Lincicum, “A Preliminary Index to Philo’s Non-Biblical Citations and Allusions,” SPhiloA 25 (2013): 139–67, esp.
157–8, lists the following: Plato, Resp. 328A in Philo, Opif. 148; Resp. 352C in Spec. 4.63; Resp. 379A–C in Agr. 128–129;
Resp. 379D in Leg. 3.105; Resp. 389B in Deus 65–69; Resp. 419–445E in Anim 30–65; Resp. 439D in Leg. 1.70; Resp.
468A in Virt. 23; Resp. 473D in Mos. 2.2; Resp. 488B–489C in Deus 129; Resp. 492C in Abr. 20; Resp. 507D–508 in Sacr.
36; Resp. 508–509 in Abr. 156; Resp. 508E in Migr. 40; Resp. 514–517 in Prob. 5; Resp. 519B in Prov. 2.17; Resp. 526E
in Legat. 211; Resp. 533d in Prob. 5 and Contempl. 10; Resp. 546b in Opif. 13; Resp. 554f in Deus 24; Resp. 557c in Ios.
32; Resp. 576B in Conf. 164; Resp. 588C in Somn. 2.14; and Resp. 617 in Somn. 1.138. For broad summaries of Philo’s
use of Plato see G. E. Sterling, “ ‘The Jewish Philosophy’: Reading Moses via Hellenistic Philosophy According to Philo,”
in Reading Philo: A Handbook to Philo of Alexandria, ed. T. Seland (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2014), 137–41; and E.
Koskenniemi, Greek Writers and Philosophers in Philo and Josephus: A Study of Their Secular Education and Educational
Ideals, SPhA 9 (Leiden: Brill, 2019), 102–6, who only deals with the explicit references to Plato.
77
Sterling, “ ‘The Jewish Philosophy,’ ” lists the following: Plato, Tim. 22B–23C in Philo, Aet. 146–159; Tim. 24E, 25C–D in
Aet. 141; Tim. 28B–C in Prov. 1.21; Tim. 28C in Opif. 21; Tim. 29A in Plant. 131; Tim. 29B in Opif. 21 and QG 1.6; Tim.
32C–33B in Aet. 25–26; Tim. 33C–D in Aet. 38; Tim. 35B in Num.; Tim. 37E, 39C in Aet. 52 (cf. also Spec. 1.90); Tim.
38B in Prov. 1.20; Tim. 41A–B in Aet. 13; Tim. 75D–E in Opif. 119 and QE 2.118; and Tim. 90A in Plant. 17.
78
Lincicum, “Preliminary Index,” 158–9.
79
D. T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato, PhilAntSup 44 (Leiden: Brill, 1986).
80
Compare Plato, Tim. 17B with Philo, Mos. 2.33. For details see Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato, 72
and 402. Lincicum, “Preliminary Index,” missed this allusion.
81
Plato, Tim. 18C.
principle for the biblical materials. In this way Philo joined Moses and Plato eschatologically even
as he had joined them ontologically in other texts.
3. CONCLUSIONS
There have been circles of scholarship that have attempted to drive a wedge between Platonic
ontology and Jewish eschatology. For those of us who work in the New Testament, studies in
the Fourth Gospel and Hebrews quickly come to mind.82 I suggest that the tension was not felt
as keenly by ancients. Whether we think of the mixture of sapiential and apocalyptic elements in
4QInstruction83 or of philosophical ontologies and Jewish/Christian eschatologies in New Testament
texts, we should not overplay the distinction. I do not want to suggest that the distinction did not
exist. The pesharim of Qumran are eschatological and contain no hint of Platonic ontology or even
an awareness that such a system of thought existed. In the nearly fifty treatises of Philo that we
have, Praem. and Mos. 1 are the only treatises that offer an eschatological vision of Israel. Philo’s
primary axis was ontological or vertical, not eschatological or horizontal. It should therefore not
be a surprise that when he moved to the eschatological, he brought a philosophical framework
with him. It shaped his eschatological vision in structure and in the hues of his explanations of the
blessings. Israel would realize not only the blessings written by Moses but also the blessings of the
ideal state described by Plato.
4. BIBLIOGRAPHY
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Bekken, Per Jarle. The Word Is Near You: A Study of Deuteronomy 30:12–14 in Paul’s Letter to the Romans in
a Jewish Context. BZNW 144. Berlin: Gruyter, 2007.
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Birnbaum, Ellen. The Place of Judaism in Philo’s Thought: Israel, Jews, and Proselytes. BJS 290/SPhiloM
2. Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1996.
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Bosman, Phillip R. Conscience in Philo and Paul: A Conceptual History of the History of the Synoideia Word
Group. WUNT II/166. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003.
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I attempted to address this in Hebrews in “Ontology versus Eschatology: Tensions between an Author and Community in
Hebrews,” SPhiloA 13 (2001): 190–211.
83
See the discussion in M. J. Goff, 4QInstruction, SBLWLAW 2 (Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2013), 19–23. Cf. also his earlier
monograph, The Worldly and Heavenly Wisdom of 4QInstruction, STDJ 50 (Leiden: Brill, 2003).
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in Second Temple Judaism. JSJSup 123. Leiden: Brill, 2007.
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Cornford, Francis M. Plato’s Cosmology: The Timaeus of Plato Translated with a Running Commentary.
London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1937.
Dillon, John. The Middle Platonists, 80 B.C. to A.D. 220. Rev. ed. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1996.
Drummond, James. Philo Judaeus; or, the Jewish Alexandrian Philosophy in its Development and Completion,
2 vols. London: Williams and Norgate, 1888.
Ehrenkrook, Jason von. “The Afterlife in Philo and Josephus.” Pages 97–118 in Heaven, Hell, and the
Afterlife: Eternity in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, Volume 1: End Time and Afterlife in Judaism. Edited
by J. Harold Ellens. Santa Barbara, CA: Praeger, 2013.
Elledge, Casey D. “Resurrection and Immortality in Hellenistic Judaism: Navigating the Conceptual
Boundaries.” Pages 101–33 in Christian Origins and Hellenistic Judaism: Social and Literary Contexts for
the New Testament. Edited by Stanley E. Porter and Andrew W. Pitts. TENTS 10. Leiden: Brill, 2013.
Geljon, Albert, and David T. Runia. Philo of Alexandria On Planting: Introduction, Translation, and
Commentary. PACS 5. Leiden: Brill, 2019.
Goff, Matthew J. The Worldly and Heavenly Wisdom of 4QInstruction. STDJ 50. Leiden: Brill, 2003.
Goff, Matthew J. 4QInstruction. SBLWLAW 2. Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2013.
Goodenough, Erwin R. The Politics of Philo Judaeus: Practice and Theory. New Haven, CT: Yale University
Press, 1938.
Goodenough, Erwin R. “Philo on Immortality.” HTR 39 (1946): 85–108.
Grabbe, Lester L. “Eschatology in Philo and Josephus.” Pages 163–85 in Death, Life-after-Death, Resurrection
and the World-to-Come in the Judaisms of Antiquity. Vol. 4 of Judaism in Late Antiquity. Edited by Alan A.
Peck and Jacob Neusner. HdO 1.51.4. Leiden: Brill, 2000.
Grabbe, Lester L. “Did All Jews Think Alike? ‘Covenant’ in Philo and Josephus in the Context of Second
Temple Judaic Religion.” Pages 251–66 in The Concept of Covenant in the Second Temple Period. Edited by
Stanley E. Porter and J. C. R. de Roo. JSJSup 71. Leiden: Brill, 2003.
Grégoire, François. “Le Messie chez Philon d’Alexandrie.” ETL 12 (1935): 28–50.
Heinemann, Isaac. Philons griechische und jüdische Bildung: Kulturvergeichende Untersuchungen zu Philons
Darstellung der jüdischen Gesetze. Bericht des Jüdisch-theologischen Seminars Fraenckelscher Stiftung für
das Jar 1929. Breslau: M&H Marcus, n.d.; repr. Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1962.
Horsley, Richard A. “The Law of Nature in Philo and Cicero.” HTR 71 (1978): 35–59.
Jaubert, Annie. La notion de l’alliance dans le Judaïsme aux abords de l’ère chrétienne. Paris: Éditions du
Seuil, 1983.
Koester, Helmut. “ΝΟΜΟΣ ΦΥΣΕΩΣ: The Concept of Natural Law in Greek Thought.” Pages 521–41
in Religions of Antiquity: Essays in Memory of E. R. Goodenough. Edited by Jacob Neusner. SHR 14.
Koskenniemi, Erkki. Greek Writers and Philosophers in Philo and Josephus: A Study of Their Secular Education
and Educational Ideal. SPhA 9. Leiden: Brill, 2019.
Kügler, Joachim. Pharao und Christus? Religionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zur Frage einer Verbindung
zwischen altägyptischer Königstheologie und neutestamentlicher Christologie im Lukasevangelium. BBB
113. Bodenheim: PHILO, 1997.
Lincicum, David. Paul and the Early Jewish Encounter with Deuteronomy. WUNT II/284. Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 2010.
Lincicum, David. “A Preliminary Index to Philo’s Non-Biblical Citations and Allusions.” SPhiloA 25
(2013): 139–67.
Long, A. A. “Stoicism in the Philosophical Tradition: Spinosa, Lipsius, Butler.” Pages 365–92 in The Cambridge
Companion to the Stoics. Edited by Brad Inwood. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003.
Lust, J. Messianism and the Septuagint: Collected Essays. BETL 178. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2004.
Mack, Burton L. “Wisdom and Apocalyptic in Philo.” SPhiloA 3 (1991): 21–39.
Miralles Maciá, Lorena. “La figura del mesías gegún los historiadores judeo-helenísticos Filón de Alejandría y
Flavio Josefo.” Sefarad 64 (2004): 363–95.
Niehoff, Maren. Philo: An Intellectual Biography. ABRL. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2017.
Oegema, Gerbern S. Der Gesalbte und sein Volk: Untersuchungen zu Konzeptualisierungsprozeß der
messianischen Erwartungen von den Makkabäern bis Bar Koziba. SIJD 2. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck &
Ruprecht, 1994.
Runia, David T. Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato. PhilAntSup 44. Leiden: Brill, 1986.
Runia, David T. “Is Philo committed to the Doctrine of Reincarnation?” SPhiloA 31 (2019): 107–25.
Savignac, Jean de. “Le messianisme de Philon d’Alexandrie.” NovT 4 (1960): 319–24.
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SPhiloA 13 (2001): 190–211.
Sterling, Gregory E. “Philo’s De Abrahamo: Introduction.” SPhiloA 20 (2008): 129–31.
Sterling, Gregory E. “ ‘Prolific in Expression and Broad in Thought’: Internal References to Philo’s Allegorical
Commentary and Exposition of the Law.” Euphrosyne 40 (2012): 55–76.
Sterling, Gregory E. “Different Traditions or Emphases: The Image of God in Philo’s De opificio mundi.”
Pages 41–56 in New Approaches to the Study of Biblical Interpretation in Judaism of the Second Temple
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Clements, and David Satran. STDJ 106. Leiden: Brill, 2013.
Sterling, Gregory E. “ ‘The Jewish Philosophy’: Reading Moses via Hellenistic Philosophy According to
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Tarsus.” SPhiloA 28 (2016): 351–74.
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18. Tübingen: A. Francke, 1996.
Yli-Karjanmaa, Sami. Reincarnation in Philo of Alexandria. SPhiloM 7. Atlanta, GA: SBL Press, 2015.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
On John the Baptist at the

Jordan River: Geohistorical and
Archaeological Considerations
SHIMON GIBSON
The question on every Christian pilgrim’s lips when visiting the Holy Land is: where was Jesus
baptized? This is usually followed by a question about the authenticity of the site. The simple
answer is that the immersion of Jesus took place at the Jordan River, though the synoptic gospels
are rather vague about the precise geographical location (Mark 1:5; Matt 3:5–6, 13; Luke 3:3).
Visitors are frequently taken to Yardenit on the river, just south of the Sea of Galilee, but there is
no historical or archaeological basis to this location whatsoever.1 However, the traditional site of
baptism is known and has been pointed out since antiquity at one very specific location on the river
in the lower Jordan Valley, east of Jericho and immediately north of the Dead Sea, and numerous
Eastern Christians flock to that place for their Epiphany celebrations in January of every year. This
place is identified as Bethabara/Bethany and it is assumed to be the same as the one referred to in
the Gospel of John (1:28; 3:26; 10:40). Archaeological remains are known on both sides of the
Jordan River at this location: at the monastery of Qasr al-Yehud on the west bank and at al-Maghtas
on the east bank, with additional sites further inland at Wadi al-Kharrar (notably Jabal Mar Elias).
In Late Antiquity this was a well-visited locale where multiple events of baptism and worship were
enacted, and it comprised the entire landscape extending to both sides of the river (west and east)
(Figure 15.1).
The purpose of this essay is to evaluate the geohistorical significance of the textual sources
concerning the early place of baptism at the Jordan River, and to examine the character of the
relevant archaeological remains from the Early Roman period (first century ce). While assuming a
measure of historicity for the background of the baptism narrative in the gospels,2 we examine the
This chapter is dedicated to Professor James Charlesworth who has been a loyal friend and colleague since I first met him in
1995. I am constantly amazed by his erudition and prolific academic productivity. We share an interest in the quest for the
historical John the Baptist. This chapter is an expansion of ideas and research first broached in a preliminary fashion in my
book, The Cave of John the Baptist (London: Random House, 2004).
1
For the official website of the Yardenit baptism site, see https://www.yardenit.com. While no historical or archaeological
claim has ever been made for this site, it is nevertheless confusing to the many thousands of visitors who are brought there
every year and many do not realize the site is actually a modern invention.
2
C. H. Kraeling, John the Baptist (New York: Scribners, 1951); C. H. H. Scobie, John the Baptist (London: SCM, 1964); W.
Wink, John the Baptist in the Gospel Tradition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968, repr., 2000); W. B. Tatum,
FIGURE 15.1 Location map, showing the places mentioned in this chapter. Drawing: Fadi Amirah.
very basic and practical aspects of the story in regard to the immersion of large groups of people
by John the Baptist at the Jordan River. Hence, our examination does not deal specifically with
the theology or literary/historical perspectives of the baptism story.3 We suggest that the southern
baptism site may have been one of a string of “baptism sites” existing in Early Roman times at places
along the middle Jordan Valley, extending between Bethabara/Bethany in the south to Aenon/Salem
in the north, and that these were populated by John the Baptist’s supporters in the first century and
perhaps as late as the mid-second century.
John the Baptist and Jesus: A Report of the Jesus Seminar (Sonoma: Polebridge, 1994); R. L. Webb, John the Baptizer and
Prophet: A Socio-Historical Study (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1991); and J. E. Taylor, The Immerser: John the
Baptist within Second Temple Judaism (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997).
3
For literature published since 2000 (though this list is not intended to be exhaustive), see R. L. Webb, “Jesus’ Baptism: Its
Historicity and Implications,” BBR 10 (2000): 261–309; B. D. Chilton, “John the Baptist: His Immersion and His
Death,” in Dimensions of Baptism: Biblical and Theological Studies, ed. S. E. Porter and A. R. Cross, JSNTSup 234
(London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), 25–42; D. S. Dapaah, The Relationship between John the Baptist and Jesus of
Nazareth: A Critical Study (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 2005); J. Murphy-O’Connor, “Sites Associated
with John the Baptist,” RB 112 (2005): 253–66; C. A. Evans, “Josephus on John the Baptist and Other Prophets of
Deliverance,” in The Historical Jesus in Context, ed. A.-J. Levine (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2006),
55; J. H. Charlesworth, “John the Baptizer and the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in The Scrolls and Christian Origins, vol. 3 of
The Bible and the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. J. H. Charlesworth (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2006), 1–35; G. H.
Twelftree, “Jesus the Baptist,” JSHJ (2009): 103–25; J. E. Taylor, “John the Baptist on the Jordan River: Localities and
Their Significance,” ARAM 29.1–2 (2017): 1–19; J. D. Tabor, “John the Baptizer: More Than a Prophet,” in Enemies
and Friends of the State: Ancient Prophecy in Context, ed. C. A. Rollston (Pennsylvania: Eisenbrauns, 2018), 513–22;
and M. Rotman, “The Call of the Wilderness. The Narrative Significance of John the Baptist’s Whereabouts” (PhD diss.,
University of Amsterdam, 2019).
On John the Baptist at the Jordan River 219
FIGURE 15.2 Qasr al-Yehud. Photo: Shimon Gibson.
1. A SUMMARY OF THE BAPTISM SITE IN LATE

ANTIQUE SOURCES
A review of the available textual sources suggests that the traditional baptism site at Qasr al-Yehud
(“Fort of the Jews”) situated on the west bank of the Jordan River, which is also known as the
Monastery of the Prodromos (Deir Mar Yuhanna; Deir Fakhur), was not built before the sixth
century.4 The earliest reference to the buildings at Qasr al-Yehud is provided by the Piacenza
pilgrim (ca. 570), followed by Adomnan’s account of Arculf ’s travels from 685, and descriptions
by Williband (724) and Epiphanius the Monk (dated to between 715 and 717) (Figure 15.2).5
On the east bank of the river, however, in the area of al-Maghtas, a church dedicated to St. John
(built on arches) was erected at the instigation of the emperor Anastasius, in the late fifth or early
sixth centuries (according to Theodosius ca. 530) (Figure 15.3).6
This church and the baptism site are also mentioned by the Piacenza pilgrim (ca. 570); the
monastery here may very well have been the same or at least was in the vicinity of the “Monastery
of the Eunuchs” referred to by John Moschus (ca. 575) (Figure 15.4). The baptism site is also
4
For a useful collection of these sources, see D. Baldi, Enchiridion locorum sanctorum: documenta S. Evangelii loca
respicientia (Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press, 1982), 211–36.
5
For a recent archaeological survey of Qasr al-Yehud, see O. Sion, “The Monasteries of the ‘Desert of the Jordan,’ ” LASBF
46 (1996): 249–50.
6
For the appearance of this church and the underlying arches, see R. Mkhjian and C. H. Kanellopoulos, “John the Baptist
Church Area: Architectural Evidence,” ADAJ 47 (2003): 9–18; and B. Hamarneh and A. Roncalli, “Wadi al-Kharrar: Sapsaphas.
Gli scavi archeologici nel luogo del battesimo,” in Giordani: Terrasanta di meditazione. Progetto del parco del battesimo, ed.
V. Sonzogni (Bergamo: Corponove, 2009), 194–212. For a review of the early exploration of the archaeological remains on
the east bank in the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries by Féderlin, Dalman, Buzy, Abel, and himself, see M. Piccirillo,
“The Sanctuaries of the Baptism on the East Bank of the Jordan River,” in Jesus and Archaeology, ed. J. H. Charlesworth
(Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2006). To the late Fr. Michele Piccirillo (1944–2008) goes the honor of publicizing the
significance of the baptism site at al-Maghtas in 1995 ahead of the archaeological excavations by M. Waheeb and others.
FIGURE 15.3 Remains of church at al-Maghtas. Photo: Shimon Gibson.
FIGURE 15.4 The Madaba Mosaic map showing the Jordan River sites. Photo: Shimon Gibson.
depicted on the mosaic map of Madaba, dated to the second half of the sixth century, which has the
Greek inscription: “Bethabara (Βεθαβαρα) [the sanctuary] of John the Baptist.”7
This church was mentioned once in the seventh century by Adomnan (as a church on great
vaults), twice in the eighth century by Epiphanus the Monk and Williband (as a church on vaults
and with a relic stone), and finally twice in the ninth century in the Commemoratorium de Casis
Dei (ca. 808) and in the writings of Bernard the Wise (870).
Thereafter, we do not hear of the church and we must assume that by the end of the ninth
century it had been abandoned and afterward remained in ruins, with most of the needs of the
pilgrims now facilitated by the Monastery of St. John at Qasr al-Yehud on the west bank.8 This is
confirmed by the writings of the Russian abbot Daniel (1106–8) and later sources from the time of
the Crusades.9
The earliest of the Christian sources are fairly ambiguous in regard to the precise location of
the site of Jesus’ baptism. Origen (ca. 248) suggests the baptism was made by John at Bethabara
“alongside the Jordan,” indicating his clear preference for this place-name instead of Bethany
(Comm. Joel. 6.40),10 and Eusebius (260–340) mentions that the place was located east of Jericho,
and that in his time “many believing brothers who, wishing to be reborn, are baptised in the living
current” (Onom. 58:18–20). Perhaps the earliest positive geographical reference to a visit made to
the Jordan River site is that of the Bordeaux Pilgrim (333). Approaching from the west bank, this
pilgrim wrote: “Five miles from there [the Dead Sea] in the Jordan is the place where the Lord was
baptized by John, and above the far [eastern] bank at the same place is the hillock from which Elijah
was taken up to heaven.”11
7
The name Bethabara is shown on the western bank but this is an artistic device, since we believe the locale Bethabara
refers to the entire landscape of the ford (west and east) and its vicinity. The mosaic map also depicts the site of Sapsaphas
on the eastern bank of the Jordan, which is probably to be identified with the springs situated in the Wadi al-Kharrar near
Elijah’s Hill: “Aenon where now is Sapsaphas (Σαπσαφας)”: M. Avi-Yonah, The Madaba Mosaic Map: With Introduction and
Commentary (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1964), 37–8 (Sapsaphas), 38–9 (Bethabara); H. Donner, The Mosaic
Map of Madaba: An Introductory Guide (Kampen: Kok Pharos, 1992), 14 (Bethabara), 38 (Sapsaphas). In excavations
conducted by Mohammad Waheeb at Elijah’s Hill in the vicinity of the springs, he uncovered a chapel with a Greek
inscription in its floor: “With the collaboration of the grace of Christ our god, under Rhetorius, the most god-loving
presbyter and abbot, all the work of the monastery was done. May God the Saviour grant him mercy.” See M. Waheeb,
“Wadi al-Kharrar Archaeological Project (Al-Maghtas),” ADAJ 42 (1998): 635–8, fig. 2; and M. Waheeb, “The Discovery
of Elijah’s Hill and John’s Site of Baptism, East of the Jordan River from the Description of Pilgrims and Travellers,” Asian
Social Science 8 (2012): 207. The present reading of the Greek inscription is one provided by Leah Di Segni (email message
of November 20, 2002) who pointed out that the great number and variety of abbreviations in the inscription point to a
date in the sixth century (or late fifth century at the earliest), which confirms Waheeb’s dating of the Byzantine remains
uncovered at the site.
8
A mass grave of approximately three hundred individuals, perhaps of pilgrims from Egypt, was found at the site in 1983,
dating from the eighth or ninth centuries. Many showed signs of having suffered from tuberculosis, leprosy, and facial
disfigurements. A total of 250 fragments of textiles were found; see O. Shamir, “Tunics from Kasr al-Yahud,” in The Clothed
Body in the Ancient World, ed. L. Cleland, M. Harlow, and L. Llewellyn-Jones (Oxford: Oxbow Books, 2005), 162–8; and
O. Shamir, “Cotton Textiles from the Byzantine Period to the Medieval Period in Ancient Palestine,” Revue d’ethnoécologie
15 (2019): 21–3, https://doi.org/10.4000/ethnoecologie.4176.
9
For the medieval sources relating to Qasr al-Yehud, see Gibson, The Cave of John the Baptist, 232.
10
On Origen’s preference for the name Bethabara instead of Bethany, see Murphy-O’Connor, “Sites Associated with John
the Baptist,” 260; and J. M. Hutton, “ ‘Bethany beyond the Jordan’ in Text, Tradition, and Historical Geography,” Biblica
89 (2008): 305–28.
11
J. Wilkinson, Egeria’s Travels to the Holy Land (Jerusalem: Ariel, 1981), 161.
Based on the new archaeological discoveries at al-Maghtas and in Wadi al-Kharrar, it has
been suggested that the “true” or original baptism site of Jesus was on the east bank rather
than on the west bank.12 We believe this argument is irrelevant—after all, everything took
place in the same overall landscape, and it is likely there was some fluidity in the use of the
name Bethabara for both sides of the Jordan River, with the name Bethany perhaps used more
specifically for the east bank or for one defined part of it. In any case, the presence or absence
of remains from the Byzantine period in one part of this landscape or in another does not have
any real bearing on the specific location of the actual baptism of Jesus that took place four or
five centuries earlier.
2. WHY WAS THE JORDAN RIVER THE TARGET FOR JOHN’S

BAPTISM ACTIVITIES?
In an important paper on John the Baptist published in 1990, Jerome Murphy-O’Connor posed a
fundamental question regarding the choice of the Jordan River for baptisms:
Why would the Baptist have chosen a place that was difficult for individuals, impossible for mass
baptisms, and virtually inaccessible during the one season in the year when he would expect
people to come to him, namely the relatively cool winter months.13
These are fair points, and one could argue that a more logical choice for ritual immersion and the
gathering of people to John would have been at the Sea of Galilee, or even at a perennial spring of
water, of which there are numerous examples in the Judaean Hills or in the Peraea, or if it was to
be in the Jordan Valley, then at a place such as Elisha’s spring in Jericho. Access to the meandering
Jordan River was undoubtedly difficult and inhospitable; its steep and muddy banks are overgrown
with dense vegetation and rich in wildlife, with some overflowing of the river in the winter months;
there are various fords along its length, and getting to the edge of the water would have been
extremely difficult and frequently treacherous (Figure 15.5).
This is still the case at the traditional site of Bethabara to the south, where wooden decks
were at times built into the water to facilitate the pilgrims wanting to immerse themselves;
today, more substantially built platforms have been provided to stimulate confidence in tourism
(Figure 15.6).
A need for religious isolation is also unlikely to have been the reason why John chose the site
and this is because the traditional site of Bethabara is situated only a short distance (6 km) from
Jericho, which was a very large and prosperous city at that time, with extensive palm groves and
balsam plantations, and close by was the Herodian palace complex at Talul Abu-Alayiq that was still
12
M. Waheeb, “The Discovery of Bethany beyond the Jordan River (Wadi al-Kharrar),” Dirasat, Human and Social Sciences
35 (2008): 115–25.
13
J. Murphy-O’Connor, “John the Baptist and Jesus: History and Hypotheses,” NTS 36 (1990): 359–74. There are a
number of assumptions in his paper (359): first, that the place of baptism was dependent upon John’s mission in Peraea,
which is definitely possible but not proven, and second, that baptism must have been conducted by John only in the winter
season. The Jordan Valley is indeed inhospitable and unbearably hot in the summer months, but this does not mean people
could not have lived in the region outside Jericho throughout the year, and a good example is the nomads and pastoralists
of that period. If John’s followers set up semi-permanent or temporary settlements in the Jordan Valley, as we believe they
did (see below), then Murphy-O’Connor’s statement on seasonality must be questioned.
FIGURE 15.5 The Jordan River toward the South. Photo: Shimon Gibson.
FIGURE 15.6 The Jordan River toward al-Maghtas, from the Western bank toward the Northeast.
Photo: Shimon Gibson.
functioning as a royal estate.14 Indeed the baptism site at Bethabara was a place of major connectivity
since it was not far from a main road linking Judaea with southwest Peraea. There were also roads
running to the north toward the Sea of Galilee, and a road leading westward toward Jerusalem.15
Many people used these roads to transfer goods such as dates, balsam oil, and lumps of asphalt (in
the shape of “loaves”) and sacks of salt from the Dead Sea. The overall connectivity of this region
would ultimately have made it easier to bring many hundreds of people to John, but it would also
have brought unnecessary passersby and onlookers, and inquisitive soldiers sent by Herod Antipas.
Bethabara was evidently not a place of isolation or secrecy where John’s baptism activities could
have been kept out of the public eye, nor does this appear to have been John’s original intention. It
was intended as an inclusive public event, and according to Josephus John called on all of Israel to
participate in the baptism;16 these are the “others” who ultimately joined the crowds surrounding
John (Ant. 18.116–119).17
The real reason this part of the Jordan River was chosen as the place of baptism was because
John and his followers were mindful of its strong biblical associations—it was a place of transition
and crossing.18 The fords are referred to as Bethabara (“house of crossing”: Josh 2:7; Judg 7:24).19
This is the place where Joshua Ben Nun crossed into the Promised Land with the Israelites (Joshua
3–4) after having received the leadership from Moses at Mount Nebo. This is where the prophet
Elijah and his disciple Elisha miraculously divided the waters of the Jordan by smiting it with a
mantle (2 Kgs 2:7–14). Eventually, Elijah ascended from this spot into heaven; he disappeared and
there was an eschatological expectation that he would return.20 John’s baptism was intended as a
rite of passage and Bethabara was a perfect location to serve this purpose.
3. WHERE WAS THE BAPTISM SITE OF THE EARLY ROMAN PERIOD?

While the synoptic gospels indicate that John the Baptist preached a baptism of repentance in the
general “wilderness” region of the Jordan, nothing more is said about the geographical location of
14
E. Netzer and R. Bar-Nathan, “Stratigraphy and Chronology of the Winter Palaces at Jericho,” in Hasmonean and Herodian
Palaces at Jericho: Final Reports of the 1973–1987 Excavations, Vol. III: The Pottery, ed. R. Bar-Nathan (Jerusalem: Israel
Exploration Society), 13–20.
15
J. E. Taylor and S. Gibson, “Qumran Connected: The Paths and Passes of the North-Western Dead Sea,” in Qumran und
Archäologie—wechselseitige Perspektiven, ed. J. Frey and C. Claussen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 1–51.
16
Josephus, trans. L. H. Feldman, LCL (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press). The credibility of the passage in
Josephus’ writings dealing with John the Baptist (Ant. 18.116–19) is widely accepted; see H. Lichtenberger,“The Dead Sea
Scrolls and John the Baptist: Reflections on Josephus’ Account of John the Baptist,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls: Forty Years of
Research, ed. D. Dimant and U. Rappaport, STDJ 10 (Leiden: Brill/Yad Ben-Zvi, 1992), 340–6; J. P. Meier, “John the Baptist
in Josephus: Philology and Exegesis,” JBL 111 (1992): 225–37; and C. A. Evans, “Josephus on John the Baptist and Other
Prophets of Deliverance,” in The Historical Jesus in Context, ed. A.-J. Levine et al. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University
Press, 2006), 55. Rivka Nir has recently suggested that this entire passage is a Christian or Jewish-Christian interpolation;
see “Josephus’ Account of John the Baptist: A Christian Interpolation?” JSHJ 10 (2012): 32–62. While this is an interesting
argument, her overall conclusion is unconvincing.
17
M. Rotman, “The ‘Others’ Coming to John the Baptist and the Text of Josephus,” JSJ 49 (2018): 68–83.
18
C. Brown, “What Was John the Baptist Doing?” BBR 7 (1997): 44.
19
Taylor points out that John would also have been aware of the tradition of Joshua’s encampment at Gilgal (Josh 4:19–24)
(“John the Baptist on the Jordan River,” 6–9).
20
In Murphy-O’Connor’s words, “John appeared exactly where Elijah had disappeared”; “John the Baptist and Jesus,”
360, n.7. Cf. C. E. Joynes, “The Returned Elijah? John the Baptist’s Angelic Identity in the Gospel of Mark,” SJT 58
(2005): 455–67.
the place, except that it was accessible to Jerusalemites (Mark 1:5; Matt 3:5–6, 13; Luke 3:3; cf.
4:1).21 More precise information is given in John (1:28; 3:26): it was at a place called “Bethabara
beyond Jordan.” This place is “where John had been baptizing earlier” (John 10:40 NRSV),
suggesting he went on to baptize at other places as well. Jesus lived there for a while following the
death of John (John 10:40). There is also a reference in John (1:28) to “Bethany across the Jordan
where John was baptizing.”22 This name may refer to another location east of the Jordan (e.g., Wadi
al-Kharrar),23 or it may have been an alternative name for a certain part of Bethabara—perhaps
settled by John’s followers.24 For later Christian pilgrims from the sixth century, there was absolute
certainty as to the exact spot of Jesus’ baptism: it was marked by a marble column surmounted by
an iron cross that was set up in the middle of the river and seen by all (Theodosius ca. 530).25
We will now examine the extent of the archaeological remains from the Early Roman period
(first century ce) in the area of the lower Jordan River and north of the Dead Sea, beginning first
with the region adjacent to the western bank of the river. The most recent archaeological survey
of this area in 1992–3 surprisingly revealed a lack of sites from this period in the area inspected
between Qasr al-Yehud and ‘Ain Hajla, and in the Jericho Plains.26 Indeed, this is in sharp contrast
21
C. C. McCown, “The Scene of John’s Ministry and Its Relation to the Purpose and Outcome of His Mission,” JBL 59
(1940): 113–31.
22
Murphy-O’Connor expressed the extreme view that the name Bethany beyond the Jordan must have been an invention
of a Johannine redactor who assumed that if John had an audience then there must have been a town close by; “John the
Baptist and Jesus,” 260, n.4. But there is nothing in the sources that would indicate that Bethany was a town, though it
may have been the name of a small encampment of Baptist followers in one sector of Bethabara. Incidentally, one should
point out that this Bethany at the Jordan River site should not be confused with the village of Bethany to the southeast of
Jerusalem, where Jesus stayed and where Lazarus lived (Mark 11:1; John 11). It has been suggested by P. Parker that the two
Bethanys are one and the same, but this is unlikely; “Bethany beyond Jordan,” JBL 74 (1955): 257–61. Riesner suggested a
scribal corruption derived from the name of the region Batanaea (Bashan) in southern Syria; “Bethany beyond the Jordan
(John 1:28): Topography, Theology and History in the Fourth Gospel,” Tyndale Bulletin 38 (1987): 34–43. On the location
of Bethany east or west of the Jordan, see B. F. Byron, “Bethany across the Jordan or Simply across the Jordan,” Australian
Biblical Review 46 (1998): 36–54; and Hutton, “Bethany beyond the Jordan.”
23
S.G. Brown, “Bethany beyond the Jordan: John 1:28 and the Longer Gospel of Mark,” RB 110 (2003): 497–516. One
should note that Brown considers the Wadi al-Kharrar site to be a first-century ce “village,” but as we will show in this
chapter the evidence for this is slim.
24
It is unclear whether Bethabara might also be the same as the walled village called Bethennabris (Вηθενναβρίν), which is
referred to by Josephus (War 4. 419–21). Murphy-O’Connor was certain that the two were not the same, and I now have to
concur (“Sites Associated with John the Baptist,” 261, n.13). Indeed, this similarly sounding place may have been situated
further north, perhaps close to the ford Abara near Beth Shean, taking into consideration that it was to that place that some
fugitives fled after their town Gadara had been captured by Vespasian in 68 ce. The fugitives were subsequently hunted
down by Placidus and he chased and eliminated them next to the banks of the River Jordan. Rotman has recently suggested
an alternative identification of Bethennabris with Tell Nimrin; “The Call of the Wilderness,” 57–8.
25
The Piacenza Pilgrim (570) states that the spot where Jesus was baptized was marked by a wooden cross. It is unclear
whether this is the same cross seen by Theodosius, though a cross made out of iron might conceivably have been mistaken
for wood if seen from a distance.
26
O. Sion, “Archaeological Survey of Israel: Kalia: 109/5” (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2013), http://www.
antiquities.org.il/survey. What emerges from Sion’s survey is that there are no sites of definite Early Roman date in the
entire area extending between the eastern outskirts of Jericho and Qasr al-Yahud. Therefore, Sion’s map of “Roman sites”
(his fig. 41) is misleading for this specific geographical zone, and Sites 42 and 49 that he lists as Roman are actually of Late
Roman/Byzantine, and Late Roman/Byzantine to Ayyubid date respectively, based on the pottery finds. The two sites listed
as Roman, situated closer to the Jordan River, namely Sites 32 and 52, are also of Late Roman/Byzantine, and Byzantine/
Early Islamic date respectively. The total absence of Early Roman pottery in this zone is borne out by Sion’s site database
that provides detailed site descriptions and lists of finds. The next map (83/13) adjacent (west of) to the Jordan River and
to the north of the map surveyed by Sion has not yet been investigated or published, so we do not have the corresponding
to the abundance of sites from the Byzantine period seen in the same area, notably churches, small
monastic dwellings, anchorite cells, and so forth.27 Ofer Sion, who conducted this survey, indicates
finding Early Roman sites but only in the proximity of Jericho, and not to the east near Qasr
al-Yehud. So, why are there no remains from this period at the Jordan River? It might be that the
sites from this period were exceptionally small and ephemeral, such as what one might expect of
temporary encampments, which resulted in them going unrecognized in the survey.28 Indeed, Sion
noted in his published text that in the ‘Ain Hajla area “presumably all of the important sites were
documented; however, small sites, for various reasons were not recorded.” Sion understandably left
unstated the fact that there are active military minefields in the areas round about Qasr al-Yehud,
and along the edges of the Jordan River; this is not at all conducive to those who might wish to
undertake systematic archaeological surveys there. Hence, it is perfectly conceivable that remains
from the Early Roman period do exist at Qasr al-Yehud and vicinity, but they are inaccessible at this
point in time.29
On the east bank of al-Maghtas, remains from the Early Roman period have been reported at
various locations in excavations conducted by Mohammed Waheeb and others since 1997, but
the precise contextual significance of these finds is not at all certain, which is disappointing.30
Apparently “related sites,” presumably of Early Roman date, have been identified in the area
extending for 4 km east of the Jordan River, but the character and appearance of these sites is not
at all clear.31 At the site known as Elijah’s Hill (Jabal Mar Elias; Tell Mar Liyas) in Wadi al-Kharrar,
Waheeb excavated three caves that began their use in the first century ce based on the pottery and
coins found inside them (Figure 15.7).32
He also identified a cistern at the site under the floor of the northeastern pool, which apparently
functioned in the Early Roman period.33 Elsewhere, he identified a large “baptismal” pool, with
archaeological data from further north for comparison. Hence, we do not know whether this phenomenon of negative Early
Roman sites is repeated along the western bank of the river northward.
27
Sion, “The Monasteries of the ‘Desert of the Jordan’,” 262–3.
28
Sion did recognize one Early Roman site (Site 82) consisting of a stone heap in the plain, at Rujm al-Qabila (East) to the
southeast of the Jericho (“Archaeological Survey of Israel: Kalia”).
29
My examination of the ground surface immediately east of the buildings at Qasr al-Yehud in 2001 revealed quantities of
Byzantine/Early Islamic and medieval potsherds, but not one potsherd of Early Roman date.
30
M. Waheeb, A. Mahmod, and E. al-Masri, “A Unique Byzantine Complex Near the Jordan River in Southern Levant and a
Tentative Interpretation,” Mediterranean Archaeology and Archaeometry 13.2 (2013): 128; and M. Waheeb, The Discovery
of Site of St. Mary of Egypt in Site of Jesus Baptism (Amman: Arabic Line Printing Press, 2004).
31
Out of twenty-one sites investigated during the survey of Wadi el-Kharrar in 1997, only one (No. 7) is dated to the “Early
to Late Roman” period (see n. 34, below), the rest are of other periods: M. Waheeb, “Wadi al-Kharrar Archaeological
Project (al-Maghtas),” ADAJ 42 (1998): 635–8; and M. Waheeb and A. Mahmoud, “The Holy Triangular along the Christian
Pilgrims Road, East of Jordan River (Baptism Site, Aenon Near to Saleem, and Tyrue Cave),” Journal of Philosophy, Culture
and Religion 34 (2017): 47.
32
M. Waheeb, F. Bala’awi, and Y. al-Shawabkeh, “The Hermit Caves in Bethany beyond the Jordan (Baptism Site),”
ANES 48 (2011): 187 and see the drawings of Early Roman (first century ce) pottery: figs. 7: 9–11 (pilgrim flasks),
8: 1–7 (juglets), 8–10, 14–15 (cooking wares), 11–13 (bowls). The coin identifications have not yet been published. For
photographs of additional pottery from the first century ce found at these sites, see M. Piccirillo, “I santuari visitati dai
pellegrino sulla sponda Orientale del fiume Giordano,” in Studi in memoria di Carlo Valeri (Ferentino: Casamari, 1998),
91–113, with artifacts on 98 (storage jars and/or jugs, and a stone cup/mug; mixed with some Byzantine pottery as
well) and 104 (cooking pot, juglet, and stone cup/mugs). I am grateful to the late Fr. Piccirillo for discussing these finds
with me.
33
Waheeb, “The Discovery of Elijah’s Hill,” 208.
FIGURE 15.7 A Byzantine period Hermit’s cave at Elijah’s Hill (Jabal Mar Elias) that had an earlier Early
Roman use. Photo: Shimon Gibson.
Byzantine pottery and a few Roman potsherds scattered around it.34 According to Waheeb, Jabal
Mar Elias is actually the site of Bethany and it was here that John the Baptist lived and baptized,
but one has to admit that the evidence to support these claims is extremely minimal.35 Michele
Piccirillo has also identified pottery from the first century ce at these Wadi al-Kharrar sites, including
fragments of a type of stone cup/mug.36
34
M. Waheeb, The Discovery of Bethany beyond the Jordan: Site of Jesus Baptism (Amman: Arabic Line Printing Press,
2003), 1.62–63, pls. 40–41. Whether Waheeb is referring to Early (first century ce) or Late (second/third/fourth century ce)
Roman pottery is unclear.
35
Waheeb, “The Holy Triangular,” 48; and M. Waheeb and R. Al Ghazawi, “Ancient Water System in Tel Mar Elyas during
the Byzantine Period: A Study,” Journal of Human Ecology 49 (2015): 327–33, doi: 10.1080/09709274.2015.11906852.
36
During a visit to the Wadi al-Kharrar site in May 2001, Mohammed Waheeb kindly showed me some of their Early Roman
period ceramic finds at their dig stores, and among these was a handle fragment of a hand-carved cylindrical stone mug. Fr.
Michele Piccirillo also found fragments of stone vessels during his visit to the site in 1995 (“I santuari visitati dai Pellegrino,”
98, 104). These finds are similar to Jewish stone mugs known from Jerusalem and at sites in Judaea dating from the first
century ce; cf. S. Gibson, “Stone Vessels of the Early Roman Period from Jerusalem and Palestine: A Reassessment,” in One
Land—Many Cultures: Archaeological Studies in Honour of Stanislao Lofredda OFM, ed. G. C. Bottini et al., SBF collectio
maior 41 (Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press, 2003), 287–308, and nn.80–2 on sites in Jordan with stone vessels. Another
collection of stone vessels from this period comes from Tall Zira‘a in northern Jordan; see J. Häser and D. Vieweger, “Die
Kalksteingefäße aus der frührömischen zeit- Religiöse uns sozio-ökonomische implikationen” (2015), https://publications.
dainst.org/journals/efb/1655/4561.
To sum up, very few archaeological remains from the first century ce have been identified on
either side of the Jordan River in the Bethabara region, unless one proceeds inland to the east
toward Wadi al-Kharrar, or to the west in the direction of the outskirts of Jericho. This supports
our suggestion that Bethabara was a locale and not a settlement as such, and that the baptism
sites were semi-permanent encampments that would not have left behind significant identifiable
remains, which is the reason they have not been found.
4. WHAT WOULD THE BAPTISM SITE HAVE LOOKED LIKE?

If the extent of John’s baptism activity at the Jordan River was brief and undertaken solely in the
winter of one specific year of his ministry (e.g., 28 ce), and cut short by his arrest by the soldiers
of Herod Antipas, then it is highly unlikely that archaeological remains relating to this time will
ever be found. The discipline of archaeology is at its best when dealing with the longue durée of
settlement history, rather than with fleeting short-term events, such as those connected to baptism.
However, it would appear that John’s sojourn in the area was of longer duration than has been
supposed. Josephus indicates that crowds of people came to John to be baptized, and that he “was
a good man and had exhorted the Jews to lead righteous lives, to practice justice towards their
fellows and piety towards God, and so doing to join in baptism (βάπτισιν)” (Ant. 18.116–119). The
fact that John had sufficient time to travel from one baptism location to another, from Bethabara
to Aenon (John 3:23), is perhaps a sign that John’s activity in the area was not a one-time or
seasonal event, but that it lasted for some time after the start of his ministry. Indeed, the baptizing
phenomenon drew large crowds of people around John—they are described in Matthew (3:5) as
“streaming forth” (έξεπορεύετο). This congregation of large crowds of people around John greatly
alarmed Herod Antipas, who thought they were there to plan an uprising, and that John had turned
himself into a major destabilizing factor in the region—this ultimately sealed his fate.
On the basic organizational level it would have been easier to arrange ceremonial locations
at the Jordan River, suitable for the baptism of small groups of devotees, as opposed to dealing
with large numbers of expectant travelers flocking to John for baptism, some of whom would
have reached the site from great distances, requiring in addition to religious support also shelter,
food, and protection. There would also have been many practicalities involved in the setting up of
encampments to house the large numbers of people, especially in a difficult and harsh environment
such as the Jordan Valley. We may surmise therefore that these encampments consisted of makeshift
structures, with those that were more permanent built out of local mud-brick, perhaps for the use
of the supervisors running the camps, and that tents were mainly used by those gathering there on a
short-term basis for the ceremony of baptism. While mud-brick walls crumble over time, their stone
foundations usually remain, but tents will hardly leave any tangible remains, except for a few rocks
to hold down the edges of tents on the ground, and of course one should also expect to find refuse,
usually represented by scatters of broken pottery. As mentioned above, the limited archaeological
surveys and excavations conducted hitherto on both sides of the Jordan River have not yet revealed
remains that might resemble the supposed encampments from this period.
The running of the baptism encampments would have required the organizational skills of more
than just one person. On the basis of John 3:26, we may assume that Jesus spent some time at the
Jordan, perhaps as one of John’s baptism attendants. The sole purpose of Jesus’ journey from the
Galilee was to be baptized by John, as is implied in Matthew (3:13). The fact that Jesus was later
seen baptizing (near Jerusalem) in parallel to John (at Aenon) suggests that John intentionally sent
his followers out to different parts of the country to help spread word of his teachings and to
baptize in his name; these followers may have been divided up into roving bands with their own
leaders (John 3:22; 4:2). Jesus’ stay at the Jordan River was sufficiently long enough for him to
leave a lasting impression upon some of John’s followers, resulting in two of them deciding to
follow Jesus, but perhaps initially only as the nominal leader of one of John’s bands. One of these
was Andrew, brother of Simon (later called Peter) (John 1:35, 40). His other disciples were Simon,
Philip, Nathanael, and a further unnamed individual (John 1:41, 44–45). It is quite possible that
at some point during his stay at the Jordan River, Jesus began asserting his own views and ideas
about matters of religious practice and purification (cf. John 3:25; cf. Mark 2:18), but there is no
certainty on the details.37 Jesus eventually went on to change and develop a distinctive ministry of
his own in Galilee with a message that was different from the one espoused by John, with him now
turning to combined healing with baptism and the proclamation of the kingdom.38
5. JOHN’S BAPTISM PROCEDURES

Any attempt to reconstruct the specifics of the baptism of repentance (βάπτισμα μετανοίας), as
performed by John at the Jordan River is forced to rely almost entirely on information extrapolated
from the description of the baptism of Jesus as it appears in the gospel accounts (Figure 15.8).39
The fact that John was known as the “Baptist” (or “Baptizer”: ό βαπτίζων) rather than “prophet”
may mean that he was better known for the lustrations he performed than for his preaching/
teaching and exhortation/instruction.40 So what were they? One can assume that John would have
adhered to the general concept of ritual cleansing with water going back to the time of the Israelite
prophets (e.g., Ezek 36:25: “I will sprinkle [‫ ]זרקתי‬clean water upon you, and you shall be clean
from all your uncleannesses, and from all your idols I cleanse you” NRSV), and especially he would
have identified with the symbolism of the waters of the deluge having rid the world of sin, and
37
J. W. Pryor, “John the Baptist and Jesus: Tradition and Text in John 3.25,” JSNT 19:66 (1997): 15–26.
38
Cullman stated that he doubted that Jesus administered baptism during his ministry: Oscar Cullman, Baptism in the New
Testament, SBT 1 (London: SCM Press, 1950), 9. However, recent research has a different view on this. There can be no
doubt that the continued mission of Jesus, following the death of John, was intrinsically linked to water purification one
way or another, even if it was not always implicitly stated, see Twelftree, “Jesus the Baptist,” 103–25. Indeed, the prominent
use by Jesus of the Bethesda and Siloam pools as settings for ritual bathing and healing while in Jerusalem in the Johannine
tradition goes a long way to strengthen this point of view; S. Gibson, The Final Days of Jesus: The Archaeological Evidence
(New York: HarperOne, 2009), 64–80. Hence the transformation of Jesus from baptizer to healer may not have been as
momentous a change as some have previously suggested, and perhaps it should be seen as a natural progression that was
to be expected in terms of the development of Jesus’ ideas and message. Taylor and Adinolfi (following Twelftree) argue
for continued baptizing activities by Jesus throughout his Galilean ministry, they also regard his healing and exorcisms
as consistent with the same “purity framework” that governed John’s immersions, and show this to be reflected in the
consistent narrative pattern of Mark’s gospel, where Jesus’ activities are characterized by the constant presence of water,
often in combination with wilderness places, crowds, and teaching (and healings); cf. J. E. Taylor and F. Adinolfi, “John the
Baptist and Jesus the Baptist: A Narrative Critical Approach,” JSHJ 10:3 (2012): 247–84. In my view, Jesus’ practical use
of medical healing and ritual exorcism while immersing in water was a radical departure from the original form of baptism
with repentance and forgiveness as practiced by John. Also, while there was definite continuity between John and Jesus, the
similarities between the two have been somewhat overstated, for example, F. Bermejo-Rubio, “Why Is John the Baptist Used
as a Foil for Jesus? Leaps of Faith and Oblique Anti-Judaism in Contemporary Scholarship,” JSHJ 11:2 (2013): 170–96.
39
E. Bammel, “The Baptist in Early Christian Tradition,” NTS 18 (1971–2): 95–128.
40
On John’s role as a “popular prophet,” see Webb, “Jesus’ Baptism,” 292–4, and Tabor, “John the Baptizer.”
FIGURE 15.8 Pilgrims immersing in the Jordan River near Qasr al-Yahud. Photo: Shimon Gibson.
with the concept of the “crossing” of the Israelites from Egyptian bondage across the Red Sea and
then later across the Jordan River into the Promised Land. Indeed, it is possible that John initially
modeled himself on the cleansing procedure advocated by the prophet Elisha at the Jordan River
for Na’aman the Leper (2 Kgs 5: 10–14). This procedure included three activities: first, standing on
the bank of the Jordan River and calling upon the Divine name; second, for the prophet to strike
his (right) hand over the place of the immersion; third, to help with the bathing process, with the
person being dipped seven times in the Jordan River.
As a Jew from a priestly background, John’s baptism procedures would have been rooted in the
common practice of Jewish ritual immersion in miqwa’ot, which was undertaken for the purpose
of the purification of the flesh of the body from ritual uncleanness. This practice developed owing
to Jewish concerns about contracting a state of ritual impurity, through contact with a corpse,
semen, menstrual blood, and so forth, which would have been abhorrent.41 By immersing in
natural flowing “living water” the pollutions of the flesh and external physical defilement might
be removed on a regular basis. The best possible way of achieving this state of ritual purity was by
immersing in various bodies of water, such as a spring, a river, or a lake, but the common practice
in towns, villages, and even in the countryside was for Jews to immerse themselves in purposefully
built stepped pools (miqwa’ot) in the basements of houses.42 In regard to the suitability of the
Jordan River for Jewish immersion, Rachel Havrelock suggests that a later rabbinical source (m.
41
For the ritual purification concerns of the first century ce, see J. Klawans, Impurity and Sin in Ancient Judaism
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000).
42
R. Reich, Miqwa’ot (Jewish Ritual Baths) in the Second Temple, Mishnaic and Talmudic Periods (Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi/
Israel Exploration Society, 2013), 25 (Hebrew); and S. Gibson, “The Pool of Bethesda in Jerusalem and Jewish Purification
Practices of the Second Temple Period,” Proche-Orient Chrétien 55 (2005): 270–93.
Parah 8:10) might be read as a disqualification of the use of the river as a place suitable for ritual
cleansing, owing to the intermingling of its waters with that of the River Yarmouk. I believe this is
unlikely to have been relevant for the first century ce, notwithstanding the known dispute between
the Pharisees and Sadducees on the intermingling of ritual water.43 It is more reasonable to suppose
that this is a reflection of the Jewish refutation and antagonism directed at that time toward the
baptism movement and its followers, some of whom were still located in the River Jordan region
in the mid-second century ce and perhaps even later than that.
John’s baptism procedures included much more than just bodily immersion to remove pollution
or defilement. As opposed to the mainstream Jewish immersion procedures current in the first
century ce, which by necessity needed to be repeated whenever a person was deemed as having been
contaminated by pollution or needing purification (i.e., before prayers), the procedure as advocated
by John, on the other hand, was a unique and singular event and those who participated in the
ceremony of his purification eventually returned home.44 John’s baptism was also a group activity
unlike individual immersions common at that time. Hence, John’s baptism was deemed distinctive,
and divisive, as is clear from John 3:25: “Now a discussion about purification arose between John’s
disciples and a Jew [μετά ‘Ιουδαίου περί καθαρισμού].”45 Furthermore, it would appear that John’s
baptism procedure was a rite of initiation by purification, but one that only occurred following
the person first undergoing repentance (with a confession of sins), seeking forgiveness, and thus
ultimately requiring regeneration.46 The goal was to combine the dualism of an inner (moral) and
outer (ritual) purity in preparation for the eschaton.47 In some ways, this procedure resembles the
order of events taken in the Jewish conversion process of that time: the proselyte was immersed in
a miqweh, but only after he had first accepted the Torah and had undergone circumcision.48
43
R. Havrelock, River Jordan: The Mythology of a Dividing Line (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2011), 198, n.51.
On the dispute between the Pharisees and Sadducees on the intermingling of waters in relation to constructed miqwa’ot
and large pools, see m. Miqwa’ot 6:1, 8; m. Yadaim 4:7; and H. Danby, The Mishnah: Translated from the Hebrew with
Introduction and Brief Explanatory Notes (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1983, repr.).
44
Among those baptized by John, either at the Jordan or elsewhere, one should add Apollos and his brethren at Ephesus
(Acts 18: 24–25; 19: 1–6); cf. Murphy-O’Connor, “John the Baptist and Jesus,” 367; and Gibson, The Cave of John the
Baptist, 182.
45
The reference in John 3:25 to the Jew is probably a reference to a “Judaean”; cf. J. Beutler, “Jesus in Judea,” die Skriflig
49.2 (2015): 1–6, http://www.indieskriflig.org.za, doi:10.4102/ids.v49i2.1926.
46
The distinctiveness of this outer bodily purification that had to be preceded by inner purification, with the latter serving
as a precondition for the former, is seen by Rivka Nir to be an alien concept in mainstream Judaism of the first century ce,
leading her to ascribe John’s method of baptism to the kind of immersions practiced by “marginal” sects in Judaism of that
time (“Josephus’ Account,” 45). One should note that Nir’s perception of a unified Judaism in the first century with groups
sharing fundamental principles, beliefs, and ideas, and having much more in common with each other than differences, is
unsustainable. Indeed, the divergent archaeological materials alone indicate the progressive heightening of internal cultural
differences during the course of the first century ce, with idealistic fragmentation occurring within many different levels
of society, and the emergence of individualism within Judaism; cf. E. Regev, “Pure Individualism: The Idea of One-Priestly
Purity in Ancient Judaism,” JSJ 31 (2000): 176–202.
47
Taylor, The Immerser, 88–100.
48
L. H. Schiffman, “Proselytism in the Writings of Josephus: Izates of Adiabene in Light of the Halakhah,” in Josephus
Flavius: Historian of Eretz-Israel in the Hellenistic-Roman Period, ed. U. Rappaport (Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 1982), 261–2
(Hebrew); H. H. Rowley, “Jewish Proselyte Baptism and the Baptism of John,” HUCA 15 (1940): 313–34; and M. Samet,
“Conversion in the First Centuries C.E.,” in Jews and Judaism in the Second Temple, Mishnah and Talmud Periods, ed. I. M.
Gafni, A. Oppenheimer, and M. Stern (Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 1993), 319–20 (Hebrew).
Another important source of information on John’s baptism procedure appears in Josephus

(Ant. 18.116–119). The passage is important because it confirms the uniqueness of John’s baptism
(βάπτισιν) in contrast to the common immersion practices of that time. People first gathered to
listen to John and subsequently he asked them to lead righteous lives, both toward each other
and toward God. This part of the ceremony included the purging of sins. Those who completed
this part of the procedure were then allowed to proceed to the next step, which was to immerse
in water in order to purify their flesh from pollutants in the normal fashion of that time. Webb
is probably right that the baptism was an initiation that signified membership in a new sectarian
movement under John’s overall leadership.49
The principal source of information regarding John’s baptism of Jesus is in Mark (1:9–11):
In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee, and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And
just as he was coming out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart, and the Spirit descending
like a dove [representing the Shekhina (‫—)שכינה‬the divine presence] on him: and a voice (Bat
Qol) came from heaven, “Thou art my beloved son.” (NRSV)
We may assume some authenticity to this passage simply because it was a source of embarrassment
for the later followers of Jesus.50 The assumption underlying this passage is that Jesus in accepting
baptism from John must have beforehand also repented of his sins (Mark 1:4).51 This concept was
so irksome to early redactors that a conversation between John and Jesus was inserted in Matthew
(3:13–17) and the material was heavily edited in Luke (3:21–22), to make it quite clear to the
reader that Jesus was obviously without sin and could not in any way have been a subordinate of
John. While these features of the story are specific to the baptism of Jesus, there may very well have
been an expectation among the crowds who gathered to be baptized by John that they too would
experience the descent of the Shekhina (‫ )שכינה‬upon them.
The following is a very tentative reconstruction of the process of baptism as perhaps was
practiced by John at the Jordan River: First, crowds of people gathered there to listen to his
teachings or exhortations. Fasting may have occurred before the ceremony (cf. Mark 2:3). The
whole procedure was presumably monitored and organized by John’s attendants. John then spoke
to those gathered there, exhorting them to lead righteous, virtuous, and pious lives, perhaps using
a set of proscribed prayers (cf. Luke 11:1). How this ceremony was practically done is not made
clear, but it may have been performed with the sprinkling of some water or perhaps even by calling
on the divine name. In any case, this stage of the ceremony took place immediately before the
immersion. Second, those who had completed the first part of the procedure were then allowed to
proceed to the Jordan River for the actual physical immersion in water. This second stage of the
baptism may have been inspired by the cleansing procedure conducted by the Prophet Elisha (2 Kgs
5:10–14, cf. Josephus, War, 4.460–465), with John perhaps raising his right hand in blessing over
the place of the immersion and pouring libations.
49
Webb, John the Baptizer and Prophet, 199–202.
50
On the theological dimension as to why Jesus was baptized, see M. Bockmuehl, “The Baptism of Jesus as ‘Super-Sacrament’
of Redemption,” Theology 115 (2012): 88–9. Webb has suggested that the theophany (the spirit’s descent and the divine
voice) was a “prophetic call-vision,” but one that only occurred at a later time than the actual baptism itself (“Jesus’
Baptism,” 261–309).
51
Webb, “Jesus’ Baptism,” 299.
Finally, might there have been some connection between John the Baptist and the sectarian
settlement at Qumran (identified by some as the home of the Essene sect during Period II) on the
northwest shore of the Dead Sea?52 The physical distance between Bethabara and Qumran, which is
only about 10 km or so, probably indicates that John and his followers were aware of the sectarian
community at Qumran, but this familiarity does not imply reciprocal interest or sympathetic
contact.53 Some scholars have postulated that John spent the early years of his life at Qumran and
that subsequently he was banished or left the community of his own accord.54 Others suggested he
was heavily influenced by the beliefs of the Dead Sea Scroll community, or conversely that some of
the texts in the caves were influenced by his teachings. The Community Rule, for example, allowed
for the initiate who wished to enter the covenant of God to be “cleansed by being sprinkled with
cleansing waters and being made holy with the waters of repentance” (1QS 3.6–12 par. 4QSa frag.
2; cf. 5.13–14).55 According to Luke 1:80, John the Baptist is said to have spent part of his youth
in the wilderness, but this does not imply that it was at the Jordan River or near the Dead Sea;
indeed there is no reason even to believe that John grew up in the Judean Desert region.56 The
fact that the Essenes—if they are the same as the Yahad group at Qumran—were in the habit of
adopting children into their community, as reported by Josephus (War 2.120), does it necessarily
signify that the juvenile John was among them?57 Moreover, they were separatists and believers
in predestination, with God omniscient and omnipotent, whereas John called on every pious Jew
to choose to be baptized and to become a penitent, to exercise free will so long as they were also
God-fearing.
6. ADDITIONAL BAPTISM SITES IN THE JORDAN VALLEY

At some point during his mission, John the Baptist moves his seat of operations from Bethabara in
the southern part of the Jordan Valley, a distance of some 65 km to another location altogether,
though whether this was intended to have been a temporary or permanent arrangement is left
unclear: “John also was baptizing at Aenon (Αίνών), near Salem, because water was abundant there;
and people kept coming and were being baptized” (John 3:23 NRSV).58 Why did John go to Aenon
instead of staying at Bethabara? The large quantity of water at this new location is given as the
reason for this shift of operations, but there was certainly more to it than this. It is more likely that
John was in the process of expanding his mission of baptism northward and was turning his eye
52
Webb, “Jesus’ Baptism,” 295; K. Atkinson and J, Magness, “Josephus’s Essenes and the Qumran Community,” JBL 129
(2010): 317–42.
53
Taylor, The Immerser, 42.
54
Lichtenberger, “The Dead Sea Scrolls and John the Baptist,” 341; O Betz, “Was John the Baptist an Essene?” in
Understanding the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. H. Shanks (New York: Random House, 1992), 205–14.
55
J. H. Charlesworth, “John the Baptizer and Qumran Barriers in Light of the Rule of the Community,” in The Provo
International Conference on the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. D. W. Parry and E. Ulrich, STDJ 30 (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 353–75; and
Charlesworth, “John the Baptizer,” 1–35. On the points of similarity between the initiation rites mentioned in the Dead Sea
Scrolls and the baptism of John, see S. J. Pfann, “The Essene Yearly Renewal Ceremony and the Baptism of Repentance,” in
The Provo International Conference, 337–52.
56
Tabor, “John the Baptizer,” 517–18.
57
Contra A. S. Geyser and H. B. Kossen, “The Youth of John the Baptist,” NovT 1 (1956): 71.
58
D. Baldi and B. Bagatti, Saint Jean-Baptiste: dans les souvenirs de sa patrie (Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press,
1980), 50–2.
FIGURE 15.9 General view of the Aenon landscape in a photograph taken from Tel Shalem toward the
East. Photo: Shimon Gibson.
toward the Galilee to attract supporters from that direction. Interestingly, at that same time Jesus
was baptizing with his disciples in the hill country near Jerusalem (John 3:22; contradicted slightly
by the redactor in 4:2).59 Indeed, it may be that John set up an entire string of places in the Jordan
Valley that were connected with baptism, extending between Bethabara/Bethany and Aenon/Salem,
but this is left unsaid in the gospel narratives and can only be surmised.
The location of Aenon as a place in the Jordan Valley to the south of Beth Shean has much to
commend it, historically and archaeologically (Figure 15.9).60
59
We have suggested in a number of publications that the baptism operations in John 3:22 may have been conducted at the
Suba cave (or at a site very much like it) west of Jerusalem and close to the traditional birthplace and hometown of John
the Baptist (Ain Karim). The archaeological excavation in this cave revealed evidence of complex immersion practices,
which also included stone installations for the anointing of feet and stone circles for containing intentionally shattered
jugs, all dating from the Early Roman period (the stratified deposits date from the late first century bce to mid-second
century ce): Gibson, The Cave of John the Baptist, 175; and S Gibson, R. Y. Lewis, E. H. E. Lass, and J. D. Tabor, “Notes
archéologiques: John the Baptist or Lazarus, the Patron Saint of Leprosy?—A Response,” RB 126 (2019): 457–63. The
archaeological evidence from the Suba Cave—a final monograph on the results from the site is now in preparation—should
be carefully considered by scholars. For a critical approach to the finds at the Suba cave, see Murphy-O’Connor, “Sites
Associated with John the Baptist,” 253–7. However, the suggestion by Taylor that the cave was from the Crusader period
is incompatible with the Early Roman and Byzantine finds at the cave (“John the Baptist on the Jordan River,” 18, n.78).
Moreover, the comments made by Rotman in his recent doctoral thesis are not at all helpful for honest and fair debate on
the significance of the cave and its possible connection to John the Baptist (“The Call of the Wilderness,” 29–30, n.160), and
especially when he references politicized gossip; cf. S. Scham, “Diplomacy and Desired Pasts,” Journal of Social Archaeology
9 (2009): 182.
60
Various attempts have been made to locate Aenon outside the Jordan Valley at locations near Jerusalem, Samaria, and
Hebron—these suggestions are not very convincing. Hence, Aenon was identified by Barclay at Wadi Farah to the northeast
of Jerusalem. Barclay was quite pleased to find that one of the wadis in the area was known as Wadi Salim; see J. T. Barclay,
The City of the Great King (Philadelphia, 1858), 558–70. Khirbet Ainoun, located close to Tubas, to the northeast of Nablus,
According to Eusebius: “the place is still shown today, eight miles [12 km.] south of Scythopolis
[Beth Shean], near Salem and the Jordan” (Onom. 40:1). The site is also shown on the Madaba
mosaic map, dating from the second half of the sixth century, situated in the upper reaches of the
Jordan Valley, and written next to it in Greek: “Ainon (Аίνών) near Salem (Σαλήμ).”61 This location
has numerous springs: at least thirteen in a small area of 4 km × 4 km. Interestingly, this almost
matches up with the number given by Ambrose in his writings (II, 1432) where he stated that there
were twelve springs at “Ennon,” but this may just be a coincidence. On the north side of this area
is Tel Shalem, which would fit with the name Salem/Salumias mentioned in the sources.62 The hill
has archaeological remains dating from the Early Bronze Age to medieval times, but significantly,
during a visit we made to the area of the springs, east of the site, we were able to identify scatters
of distinctive Early Roman potsherds from the first century ce (Figure 15.10).63
Abel suggested identifying Aenon at Khisas ed-Deir, located about 1.5 km to the southeast of
Tel Shalem.64 Alternatively, Aenon might have been much closer, for example, at Khirbet Hamed
el-Fakhur, only half a kilometer to the southwest of Tell Shalem.
During a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, Egeria visited the village of Salim (Shedima) in 384
and was told that the spring of Aenon was located very close to the village, only 200 yards away
(approximately 183 meters), which she then visited:
So I asked if it was far away. “There it is,” said the holy presbyter, “two hundred yards away.
If you like we can walk over there. It is from this spring that the village [of Sedima] has this
excellent supply of clean water you see.” Thanking him I asked him to take us, and we set off.
He led us along a well-kept valley to a very neat apple orchard, and there in the middle of it he
has also been proposed as the site of Aenon, but a strong argument against this identification—chiefly that there are no
springs of water at the site—has already been made by V. Guérin, Description geographique, historique et archéologique de
la Palestine. Samarie (Paris, 1868), 1.364–65; and Murphy-O’Connor, “John the Baptist and Jesus,” 359–74. There is also
nothing to recommend scores of other sites named Salim or Salem, either east of Nablus or close to Ta’anik, since it is more
likely that they derive their name from the local Palestinian clan in that part of the country, known as the Bani Salem; cf.
C. Ritter, The Comparative Geography of Palestine and the Sinaitic Peninsula, trans. W. L. Gage (Edinburgh: T&T Clark,
1866), 2.320, 350–1; and W. F. Albright, “Recent Discoveries in Palestine and the Gospel of John,” in The Background of
the New Testament and Its Eschatology, ed. W. D. Davies and D. Daube (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1956).
Another site near Hebron, Khirbet Abu Rish, comprises a small rural monastic complex dating from the Byzantine period
within lands belonging to the nearby village of Beit ‘Anun. Installations found at the site are said to have been used for
baptismal purposes. A Greek dedicatory inscription found in a mosaic floor refers to the excavated building as a holy place
to which worshippers and pilgrims came, but one must point out that no mention is made there of either John the Baptist
or his worship. It was apparently suggested to be the site of Aenon based solely on the superficial similarity of this name
with that of the nearby village of Beit ‘Anun; see Y. Magen and Y. Baruch, “Khirbet Abu Rish (Beit ‘Anun),” Liber Anuus 47
(1997): 339–58; and Y. Baruch, “Khirbet Beit ‘Anun in the Hebron Hills—A Site Connected to the Activities of John the
Baptist,” in Judea and Samaria Research Studies—Proceedings of the Seventh Annual Meeting 1997, ed. Y. Eshel (Ariel: Ariel
University, 1998), 169–79 (Hebrew).
61
Avi-Yonah, The Madaba Mosaic Map, 14; and Donner, The Mosaic Map of Madaba, 37.
62
Taylor has also accepted this identification of Aenon near Tel Shalem (“John the Baptist on the Jordan River,” 16).
63
The surface finds from the area to the east of the tel included the rim and handle of a cooking pot, and fragments of a red-
gloss Eastern Terra Sigillata platter. Since we were not undertaking an official licensed survey, these items were documented
and left at the site. In the first half of the second century ce, a Roman camp was set up immediately to the southwest of the
tel, and this probably ended the baptism operations at the site by John’s followers. On the Roman camp from the time of
the emperor Hadrian, see W. Eck and G. Foerster, “Ein Triumphbogen für Hadrian im Tal von Beth Shean bei Tel Shalem,”
Journal of Roman Archaeology 12 (1999): 294–313; and M. Mor, The Second Jewish Revolt: The Bar Kokhba War, 132–136
CE (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 173–9.
64
F.-M Abel, “Mélange I, Exploration de la vallée du Jourdain,” RB 10 (1913): 218.
FIGURE 15.10 Early Roman pottery. A cooking pot handle and fragments of an ETS platter. Photo: Shimon
Gibson.
showed us a good clean spring of water which flowed in a single stream. There was a kind of
pool in front of the spring at which it appears holy John Baptist administered baptism.65
The site seen by Egeria is perhaps to be identified with ‘Ain Ibrahim, which is situated next to a
Sheikh’s tomb not far from the ancient mound of Tel Shalem (Salem).
7. SUMMARY
The baptism site was most likely to have been at al-Maghtas (the locale Bethabara) close to the
fords at the Jordan River, just north of the Dead Sea. Bethany “beyond the Jordan” may have
been one specific part of this locale, presumably on the east bank or further inland (toward Wadi
al-Kharrar). Bethabara probably referred to both sides of the river; that is, the name actually refers
to a landscape. There were probably additional baptism sites in the middle Jordan Valley, scattered
at key locations to the north, and as far as Aenon/Salem. John the Baptist was at the center of
these operations and orchestrated the baptism procedures himself, even though he must have had
attendants. It appears that the efficacy of the bodily purification procedure that might be acquired in
the waters of the Jordan River could only become possible if the baptism candidates had previously
repented and were ready for regeneration. Hence, John’s baptism was focused on inner penitence
as the precondition for subsequent immersion, and this meant a ceremony for participants at two
very distinct “event locations”: one on the bank of the river or very close to it, and the other with
immersion in the waters of the river. The baptism effort was therefore a highly organized operation,
with the setting up of encampments, and requiring leadership at all levels, with John’s attendants,
including Jesus for a while, mostly in command. They would have dealt with everything from the
65
Wilkinson, Egeria’s Travels, 108–12.
arrangement of the encampments with supplies/provisions, to the organization of the actual place
of the ceremonial “event locations,” and to the order of the baptism procedures next to the Jordan
River. As we have shown, archaeological remains of the baptism encampments have not yet been
found, except for occasional finds, and this must indicate the very temporary nature of the sites
in question. Indeed, this is in keeping with the notion that Bethabara and Aenon were probably
locales, and not specific towns or villages as has sometimes been assumed.
John’s sway among those who came to him to be baptized and the overall effects of his preaching
were so persuasive that Herod Antipas, ruler of Galilee and Peraea, looked upon John as a person
who might be capable of inciting a rebellion and since John was a threat to stability he had to be
dealt with severely. According to Josephus,
Herod became alarmed. Eloquence that had so great an effect on mankind might lead to some
form of sedition [or revolt]. For it looked as if they would be guided by John in everything
that he did. Herod decided therefore that it would be much better to strike first and be rid of
him before his work led to an uprising, than to wait for an upheaval, get involved in a difficult
situation and see his mistake. (Ant., 18.116–119)
There are two matters that arise from this: first, John’s message may have been somewhat more
political than we are led to believe based on the information provided in the gospels, and, second, it
does not appear that Herod’s soldiers encountered any immediate resistance from John’s followers,
or at least Josephus does not report this. Hence, it was perhaps only John’s words that were seen
to be seditious and not any actions on the ground; his followers presumably scattered peacefully
and then regrouped. John was eventually brought in chains to Machaerus, a fortress town on the
southern borders of Peraea, and there he was executed by beheading.
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Repr., 2000.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Greco-Roman and Jewish

Historiography as Backdrop for
the Gospels
DARRELL L. BOCK
1. SETTING THE STAGE

To know the players you need to have a program. To appreciate the game, you need to know
its rules. Those clichés apply when we think of understanding writers and what they produce.
Knowing the game being played as writers write makes us better readers. Conventions allow for
things. They give room and frame discussions. We have conventions in how we write a report
today. Some of them are so transparent and underground, we almost never think about them. We
assume them because we are used to them. We know the rules of the game.
I often think about how to compare the writing of the gospels and their conventions to the
array of reporting that takes place today. My analogies for the way gospel stories worked are top
of the hour news reports on TV or radio, where a reporter or anchor has a limited amount of time
to present several stories in a concise but communicative manner. Media today possesses several
advantages over ancient reporting. They can record material and show pictures, at least on TV or
over the web. Quoting is a much tidier business today. Precision is possible because we have many
additional ways to preserve information. Still there are things that get done that we recognize
operate at a potentially, more murky level.
My favorite illustration to raise this issue is the news report on a president’s annual State of the
Union address. It often lasts for around an hour. The speech covers a wide array of topics. The
reporter comes on with a minute or two to report on it. When he begins with “The President said
tonight …” there are several modern choices that can be made. The reporter can run a clip that
has a direct citation on the topic. She can choose to quote a single sentence or so to summarize the
whole or to focus on the most controversial part of the speech. In many cases, the anchor chooses
to take a long segment and boil it down to such a summarized statement. As time is an issue for the
modern reporter, space was an issue for a gospel writer once the choice was made to cover many
incidents in Jesus’ career. Today as long as the reporter adequately summarizes what was said, no
one pulls their hair out and cries foul. This is true even when the reporter puts the speech’s point
in his own words rather than citing the president directly. We understand that when time and space
are issues, summarizing can work and is OK. We also understand that such reporting can still be
accurate and historical.
I begin here because in thinking about this topic, we need to recognize that the Bible has long
been understood to be popular writing, reflective of conventions and human style that had input
into it. Long gone are the days when appeal is made to Holy Spirit Greek. We recognize the language
of Koine. We see John the apocalyptic writer resorting to a kind of grammar and expression that
does not always play by the normal rules, but is rooted in ancient conventions of a certain kind of
writing we call apocalyptic. We search for the human and conventional style of the text that fits into
the world in which it was composed. The gospels are no different.
One of the things that raises much discussion about the gospels is how parallel accounts between
them differ. This similarity beside difference often perplexes readers of the synoptics, but these
differences also raise the question how we should assess such features in a first-century historical
context. A simple solution is simply to claim creation of detail and not make any real effort to
examine more carefully what may be going on in terms of options. After we overview how ancient
historians viewed their task, I’d like to examine two examples to ask if it may be too facile to simply
utter creative detail and move on.
In 2016 Mike Licona made a proposal that argues we should look at historiographic ways of
composing to understand what the possibilities are for the gospels, what people did who wrote such
works.1 His book focused in detail on the techniques of Plutarch. His proposal is simple enough. It
is just that few have actually undertaken to give this topic a careful look. In that comparison might
emerge things that look odd to us, but may not have bothered those of another time and place
whose conventions may be distinct from our practices. Of course, one needs to look at such things
and examine if they are present, but once such rules are identified or shown to be conventions, we
are helped in what our expectations should be as we read a text. All of a sudden what might seem
odd can become more comprehensible.
The complexity surfaces when we realize that there are different strokes for different folks. That
what one writer is inclined to do, another may shun or avoid. Here another initial example might
suffice. It is inspired by what Licona has called in his public discussions on gospel matters “guy and
gal telling” to describe differences. It is my variation of his point.
I regularly host interviews on a podcast called “The Table.” I have learned people to whom you
ask questions have different styles in answering. Some are crisp. As you face a “forty-seconds-to-go”
landing time to a broadcast break, you can ask a question confident they will give you time to land
the plane at the end of the segment.
Others you dare not ask such a question. They are more verbose. I call them footnote
communicators. They give you not only an answer to your core question but also the back story
that fills it in. Detail matters to them. If you ask this type a question, you may not even get the
beginning of an answer before time runs out. I often say if I ask my wife if I have to be at dinner at
6:00 p.m., she will start at 6:00 a.m. and list the rationale for the answer before finally answering
the question. If you ask me the same kind of question, you will get a simple yes or no. That is all.
But this is not a gender issue. It is a personality style choice.
I have a colleague at Dallas who is married to a German wife. If you ask her about dinner, you
will get a Ja or Nein. But if you ask her spouse, a friend I have nicknamed Dr. Google for telling
1
M. Licona, Why Are There Differences in the Gospels? What Can We Learn from Ancient Biography (Oxford: Oxford
GRECO-ROMAN AND JEWISH HISTORIOGRAPHY 243
things we never dreamed of knowing, you will start with the history of hospitality in the Greco-
Roman world as he works his way up methodically and quite logically to answer the question you
posed. Style is not a matter of guy or gal, it is just the way individuals tend to present things. And
the choices are endless. So the question becomes how do we know, given the array of cultural
options, that a given writer has taken a particular path in arrangement or composition choice? All
we can do is ask what may be possible and then try to see if that option might work. That is where
I place Licona’s very helpful study. The angel is in the details. And all angels are not the same.
One more point of prolegomena needs noting that also draws on analogy from current media
forms. I often encounter what is described as literary license in films that are said to be based on
real events. This license also has a spectrum that runs from summary to invention. I encountered
one just recently. One film, Hacksaw Ridge, portrays the life of Desmond Doss, a war hero who
chose never to wield a weapon in battle for religious reasons. In the movie, Desmond enlists in the
army in support of the Second World War effort even though he does not believe in killing and will
not bear arms in battle. In real life, he was drafted, as an article shows from the Washington Post
on March 25, 2006. Obviously this is a difference. A colleague disturbed by the movie’s change
pointed out this detail to me and asked what I thought of the move. When I checked this out, what
I found was intriguing. Desmond had been drafted but was offered a conscientious objector status
that would have allowed him out of the draft and out of the Army. He refused to take it arguing
he wanted to be a medic and serve in a way that could contribute to the war effort in light of his
convictions. The Army took him in on this basis. So now the question remains, in the movie’s
summarizing did portraying him as enlisting, that is, choosing to serve, actually fit well what he did?
I might contend this is an adequate summarizing of what took place, reflecting the state of choosing
to serve. The example shows the potential ambiguity of a “creative” detail when considered in light
of literary tendencies to summarize.
My opening remarks serve to set the stage for how I would like to think about the issue of
ancient historiography. A brief look at modern possibilities and analogies shows that many options
might exist, a spectrum of choices that we need to be aware of once they are put before us, some
of those kinds of choices we even see around us today. There may be more room for how history
works with authorial construction than initially meets the eye. The question is when we move back
in time, what were the expectations for how to present history?
2. WHAT DID ANCIENT AUTHORS CLAIM AS THEY

WROTE HISTORY?
In this section we overview the claims of ancient historical writers for what they pursue and how
they seek to accomplish it.2 In spots we will note what they actually do. This is how to acquire
our rules for the historical writing game. In concluding notes we will apply the results with some
observations relative to the gospels.
2
A nice introduction into this theme can be found in R. A. Derrenbacker, Jr., Ancient Compositional Practices and the Synoptic
Problem, BETL 86 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2005), esp. 51–117. Our survey supplements the earlier look at this topic
by A. W. Mosley, “Historical Reporting in the Ancient World,” NTS 12 (1965): 10–26. He treats Herodotus, Thucydides,
Polybius, Posidonius (but without any direct citation), Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Lucian, Cicero, Julius Caesar, Sallust, Livy,
Tacitus, and Josephus. Mosley concentrates more on how classicists have viewed such authors and discusses the use of sources
more than concentrating on how they saw their task. We focus on how the writers describe the goals of their task.
2.1. Herodotus (484–430 bce)

One of the two great original Greek historians with Thucydides, Herodotus wrote a chronicle
of the war between the Greek and Persians known as The Persian Wars.3 He opens his account
describing what he has done: “What Herodotus the Halicarnassian has learnt by inquiry is here set
forth: in order that the memory of the past may not be blotted out from among men by time, and
that great and marvelous deeds done by Greeks and foreigners and especially the reason why they
warred against each other may not lack renown” (Persian Wars 1.1).
Inquiry and preservation of heroic acts for posterity motivate Herodotus to write. Later he
notes the sources he used. In 2.99, he says, “So far all I have said is the outcome of my own sight,
judgment and inquiry.” Direct experience was a preferred way to narrate events. Sometimes there
is a mix of sources, including interviews, as next he notes, “Henceforth I will record Egyptian
chronicles, according to that which I have heard, adding thereto somewhat of what I myself have
seen” (2.99; see also for his efforts to interview or check out what he heard, 2.19, 32; 2.44).
Egyptian priests were key sources (2.113, 118). He describes his inquiry as including people from
a variety of sides, as he asked of Egyptians and Colchians (1.104).
Later another shift of sources gets the following notation: “Thus far I have recorded what the
Egyptians themselves say. I will now relate what is recorded alike by Egyptians and foreigners to
have happened in that land, and I will add thereto something of what I myself have seen” (2.147).
In places, he notes where he has made judgments about disputed things, while contending he shows
what is true (2.24–25). He underscores the depth of his inquiry by travel and sight when discussing
the origin of the Nile (2.29). When stories conflict, he attempted to run down the various accounts
and reported them (2.3). He was circumspect when it came to activity of the gods, saying “no man
knows about the gods more than another” (2.4).
Herodotus set a solid initial standard for historical inquiry. One is struck by the care he shows
in noting his sources along the way and in trying personally to verify what he had heard. His scope
of interviews across racial lines also is of interest. Mosley describes him as “doing as well as he
could” in observing his standards, concluding, “He does not give the impression of having set out
the standards and then of having ignored them in his writing.”4
2.2. Thucydides (Fifth Century bce)

In a much-discussed text, Thucydides in his History of the Peloponnesian War 1.22 treats how he
approached his task.5 He covers speeches first. He confesses he and his sources cannot recall what
was said with strict accuracy. So he gives the speeches in the language it seems to him the speakers
would have expressed, adhering as closely as possible to the general sense of what was said. In other
words, he writes providing what he regards as accurate summaries, if not precise transcripts. He did
the best he could. In an era of no tape recorders, what more could be expected?
3
Citations from Herodotus, The Persian Wars: Books 1-2, rev. ed., trans. A. D. Godley, LCL (Cambridge, MA: Harvard
4
Mosley, “Historical Reporting,” 12.
5
Citations from Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War: Books 1-2, trans. C. F. Smith, LCL (Cambridge, MA: Harvard
He turns to events next. He thought it his duty to give them not as received from a chance
informant or what seemed to him probable but only after careful investigation whether he was
involved in the event or only had sources. He said this task was laborious because his eyewitnesses
gave varying testimony depending on their championing “one side or the other.” The absence of
fabling from his account may disappoint some in terms of what is heard. However, whoever wishes
to have a clear view of events and their lessons, he hopes to have provided a model of history from
which to learn.
Two observations are to be made here. First, Thucydides gave greater care to getting events right
than the details of the speeches he recorded, though he tried to be faithful in both. Second, he
recognized the issues tied to perspective and bias. He tried to work his way through them.
2.3. 2 Maccabees (Second Century bce)

This work was composed immediately after the events they describe.6 It is an example of Jewish
historiography and represents a “digest” or epitomizing version of events that condenses the work
of Jason of Cyrene (2:28), a work we no longer possess. This introduces a problem we often will
face with ancient literature, a lack of access to written sources an author used. It is an important
point, showing how much reconstruction one must do in their work about the interaction between
sources and events when a new historical work is undertaken. In a literary and well-known preface in
2:19–32 the author says his goal is to reduce the mass of material from the other work with its array
of statistics. Such abbreviation he says causes “sweat and loss of sleep,” like preparing a banquet
for others. Exact detail is left to the original compiler preferring the “outlines of condensation.”
He compares himself to the painter of a house versus the architect. The architect has to know all
the detail. The painter is allowed “brevity of expression and to forgo exhaustive treatment.” I am
reminded of my two types of podcast interviewees here. The writer of 2 Maccabees has taken a
detailed work and sought to simplify it.
Here I think it fair to say the goal is an adequate summary of the events, something that gains
understanding for the reader without overwhelming someone with excessive detail. What we get
is a combination of excerpt, summary, and paraphrase in the abridgement. The author’s image is
the difference between a builder and a decorator, where we clearly have a selective presentation.
What motivates that selection is said to be for “pleasure,” “ease of memory,” and “profitability.”
The amount of the miraculous in the work has led many to charge the author with embellishment.7
2.4. Polybius (Second Century bce)

In his Histories 2.56, Polybius lays out his approach to history.8 He is critiquing the more emotional
work of Phylarchus who in vivid detail tries to sway his audience. Polybius contends the role of
history is not to thrill his audience with exaggerated pictures, or write like a tragic poet so as to
reckon with the probable incidental occurrences. It is “simply [a]‌record [of] what really happened
and what was really said however commonplace.” The historian’s task, in contrast to the poet’s, is
6
Citations from the NRSV.
7
Mosley, “Historical Reporting,” 22.
8
Citations from Polybius, The Histories: Books 1-2, rev. ed., trans. W. R. Paton, rev. F. W. Walbank and Christian Habicht,
LCL (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2010).
“to instruct and convince for all time serious students by the truth of the facts and the speeches he
narrates.” There is very little detail here, only the goal. Given the choice between entertaining and
working the emotions versus truth, Polybius, like Thucydides, aims for rendering the events and
speeches with care.
2.5. Dionysius of Halicarnassus (First Century bce)

In his preface to Roman Antiquities,9 Dionysius makes his observations about history and the use
of sources. Historians need the “proper equipment for the treatment of their subject” (1.1.2).
Historians need to be careful not to be “careless or indolent in compiling their narratives out of
such reports as chance to come in their ears” (1.1.4). In noting that there are numerous sources to
the topic he covers, Dionysius explains where material comes from that others did not mention.
He seeks to avert the charge of inventing events. He describes his research as involving twenty-two
years, learning the Roman language (Latin), getting acquainted with their writings, and focusing on
“matters bearing upon my subject” (1.7.2–4). His sources were a mix of oral testimony and data
gathered from an additional list of historians not named in the earlier list. In other words, he used
sources beyond those in wide circulation. Invention of events was not in his vocabulary.10
2.6. Cicero (106–43 bce)

This famous Roman orator makes one key remark on history in De Oratore 2.62. There he says,
“For who does not know history’s first law to be that an author must not dare to tell anything but
the truth? And its second that he must make bold to tell the whole truth? That there must be no
suggestion of partiality anywhere in his writings? Nor of malice?”11 The goal is to try and tell the
story as it was, without excessive bias. He contends this takes boldness.
2.7. Arrian (Early Second Century, Born 85–90 ce)

Arrian in his preface to Anabasis treats how he handles his sources (1, preface).12 Where Ptolemy and
Aristobulus agree, he records what they say as completely true. Where they disagree, he presents the
one he regards as most trustworthy and also better worth telling. He notes there are other sources
and no figure has as much contradictory information recorded about him as Alexander. He trusts
9
Citations from Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities: Books I–II, trans. Earnest Cary, LCL (Cambridge,
MA: Harvard University Press, 1937).
10
C. Kenner, “Otho: A Targeted Comparison of Suetonius’s Biography and Tacitus’s History, with Implications for the
Gospels’ Historical Reliability,” BBR 21 (2011): 331–56, makes the same point about Suetonius’s work in comparison to
Tacitus on Otho. He argues Suetonius was dependent on sources and did not seek to create events. He says, “Suetonius’s
understanding of biography involved not free composition but dependence on prior information; where we can test him,
this biographer mostly edited and adapted historical information rather than inventing new stories. Given its chronological
proximity to eyewitness sources, a large amount of Suetonius’s information about events (if not always the participants’
motives) is likely correct” (355).
11
Mosley, “Historical Reporting,” 18–22, notes Cicero is judged to have compromised his standards for the sake of literary
concerns, as is Sallust. Also Livy does not come out as well nor is he seen as being as careful as other historians because he
does not weigh his sources. By contrast, Tacitus comes out much better. He saw few of the events he relates, but used an
array of source and documents and weighed them with more care.
12
Citations from, Arrian, Anabasis of Alexander: Books 1–4, trans. P. A. Brunt, LCL (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press, 1976).
Ptolemy and Aristobulus because both participated in the king’s expeditions, with the former also
having become a king. Since both wrote after Alexander died, they had nothing to fear or gain from
Alexander in what they wrote. He notes that what comes from others he regards as trustworthy in
another sense, as tales about him.
Arrian is at a disadvantage, being far removed from the timing of the events he records. He is at the
mercy of his sources and their quality. He makes assessments of them as a result. Derrenbacker notes
that the additional sources tend to be clustered and Arrian keeps mostly to his two core sources.13 The
author has signaled his lesser regard for these sources. Again a concern for general accuracy is driving
this work.
2.8. Flavius Josephus (Late First Century ce)

Josephus also discusses his approach to history in a few places.14 In Against Apion 1.37–42, he discusses
the twenty-two books of the Hebrew Scripture, believing them to be inspired by God and arguing
they do not reflect “myriads of inconsistent books” (Apion 1.37–38). He notes that those to whom he
presented it accepted his work on Jewish War, which included witnesses such as Vespasian and Titus
(Apion 50). They recognized his “scrupulous safeguarding of the truth” (Apion 1.52). In the same
section he says, “They were not the men to conceal their sentiments or keep silent had I through
ignorance or partiality distorted or omitted any of the facts” (Apion 1.52). He concludes his historical
aside, declaring:
Surely they ought to recognize that it is the duty of one who promises to present his readers
with actual facts first to obtain an exact knowledge of them himself, either through having been
in close touch with the events, or by inquiry from those who knew them. That duty I consider
myself to have amply fulfilled in both of my works. (Apion 53, alluding to War and Antiquities,
while noting in Apion 56 that he had access to opinions in the opposite camp from the Roman
commanders)15
In describing the Antiquities in 1.17, he comments he will follow the narrative, “neither adding
or omitting anything.” In fact, when we read the account, he does in fact add and omit in relation
to what Scripture presents. This difference warns us that there is a difference between what authors
claim and what they do, unless we read Josephus as engaged in rhetorical hyperbole. Regardless,
we do get a glimpse of what the ideal standards were.
In discussing the events following the death of Queen Alexandra, Josephus notes that the
requirement of a historian extends beyond giving pleasure to a reader or possessing a charm of
exposition. Rather, “their chief aim is to be accurate and hold everything else of less importance
than speaking the truth to those who must rely upon them in matters of which they themselves
have no knowledge” (Antiquities 14.1). Earlier he noted his desire to correct Roman writings about
events in which Josephus had participated (Antiquities 1.4). As he does so he contends that he
13
Derrenbacker, Ancient Composition, 57–9.
14
Citations are from Josephus, trans. Henry St. Thackeray, Ralph Marcus, Alan Wikgren, Louis H. Feldman, 10 vols., LCL
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1926–65).
15
In Vita 361–366, Josephus notes he received testimony to his “accuracy” from the emperors themselves as well as from
Agrippa, with Titus and Agrippa testifying to them with endorsements.
speaks on “the matter of history, where veracity and laborious collection of facts are essential”
(Jewish War 1.16). He goes on to say that one should “hold historical truth in honor” (Jewish War
1.16), and so claims he has given “the whole story in full and accurate detail” when he concludes
his larger account of Israel’s history (Antiquities 20.260).
Josephus complains about earlier writers on Nero and declares his own historiographic standard.
I cite in full:
Nor can I be surprised at those who have lied about Nero, since even when writing about his
predecessors they have not kept to the facts of history. Surely they had no hatred for those
emperors, since they lived long after them. Nevertheless, we must let those who have no regard
for the truth write as they choose, for it is what they seem to delight in. But I, who have set as
my target the truth, see no reason to give more than brief mention to matters unconnected with
my proposed theme. On the other hand, my exposition of the fate of my own people, the Jews,
is not merely incidental; and in my treatment I do not hesitate to give a full account either of
our misfortunes or our mistakes. I shall accordingly return to the narrative of our own affairs.
(Antiquities 20.155–157)
When we compare what Josephus claims versus what he does, there is a gap. Numerous studies
have shown this. His own accounts are not even internally consistent with a variety of things going
on.16 Note how Josephus alternates between fullness of detail and being more concise, depending
on his subject. Choices abound. Still the goals of historical effort are well understood by ancient
writers, even if they sometimes fail to reach them.
2.9. Plutarch (ca. 45–120 ce)

Plutarch’s Lives were likely written early in the second century ce. It is a monumental collection
of comparative biography, pairing rulers tied to Greece and Athens next to great Romans. Plutarch
is one of the last of the classical Greek historians and is the model for Licona’s work on parallel
accounts.
Plutarch’s comments on his task are brief. Two specific notes dominate but are quite revealing.
One comes from Theseus 1. Here he notes his dilemma as he sought to reach back into the recesses
of what was ancient history for him and tried to determine what was likely to have taken place. He
compares his task to geographers, who reach the end of their knowledge about certain lands and
“crowd them into the margins of their maps with the explanation, ‘Beyond this lie sandy, waterless
deserts full of wild beasts.’ ”17 In the same section Plutarch continues as he turns to his own work
and says,
16
Among such studies are J. Henderson, “Josephus’s Life and Jewish War Compared to the Synoptic Gospels,” JGRChJ
10 (2014): 113–31; F. G. Downing, “Redaction Criticism: Josephus’ Antiquities and the Synoptic Gospels (I),” JSNT 8
(1980): 46–65, and F. G. Downing, “Redaction Criticism: Josephus’ Antiquities and the Synoptic Gospels (II),” JSNT 9
(1980): 29–48. The Downing studies show the array of things that Josephus employs between his accounts in omitting,
adding, rearranging, compiling, and conflating. The advantage of such analysis is we can compare extant sources and are
dealing with one author.
17
Plutarch, The Rise and Fall of Athens: Nine Greek Lives, trans. I. Scott-Kilvert (London: Penguin Books, 1960), 13.
Now that in writing my Parallel Lives I have reached the end of those periods in which theories
can be tested by argument or where history can find a solid foundation in fact, I might very well
follow their example and say of remoter ages, “All that lies beyond are prodigies and fables, the
province of poets and romancers, where nothing is certain or credible.”
What is interesting here is clear distinction between history and how it should be grounded. Fable-
romance is not history and reflects a genre that roams into the fog of the past with little to be able
to substantiate what took place.
Still Plutarch found it reasonable to pursue Romulus with a parallel involving the founder of
Athens, Theseus. He did so stating his hope this way:
Let us hope, then, that I shall succeed in purifying fable, and make her submit to reason and take
on the appearance of history. But when she obstinately defies probability and refuses to admit
any element of the credible, I shall throw myself on the indulgence of my readers and of those
who can listen with forbearance to the tales of antiquity.
As you read Plutarch, he often notes his sources, who reported what, and where agreement and
disagreement lie with his sources. He makes some attempt to sort things out as best as he can. He
does what he can to try and get as close to history as his temporal distance will permit. As with
other ancient historians, the issue of successful execution remains to be assessed, but the task is seen
clearly here.
A second text is found in Alexander 1.18 As it discusses his comparison of Alexander with Julius
Caesar, this citation is so vivid and revealing I cite it in full.
The careers of these men embrace such a multitude of events that my preamble shall consist
of nothing more than this one plea: if I do not record all their most celebrated achievements
or describe any of them exhaustively, but merely summarize for the most part what they
accomplished, I ask my readers not to regard this as a fault. For I am writing biography, not
history, and the truth is that the most brilliant exploits often tell us nothing of the virtues or vices
of the men who performed them, while on the other hand a chance remark or a joke may reveal
far more of a man’s character than the mere feat of winning battles in which thousands fall, or a
marshaling of great armies, or laying siege to cities. When a portrait painter sets out to create a
likeness, he relies above all upon the face and the expression of the eyes and pays less attention
to the other parts of the body; in the same way it is my task to dwell upon those actions which
illuminate the workings of the soul, and by this means to create a portrait of each man’s life.
I leave the story of his greatest struggles and achievements to be told by others.
This citation is fascinating because of two distinctions it makes: between history and biography
and between a detailed account, which is linked to history, versus a more selective and anecdotal
approach, which is tied to biography. The Gospels fit well into this characterization, although it
might be better said that biography is a certain kind of history writing in contrast to tracing a country
or a movement, which is more like an ethnography. Biography focuses on what great individuals
can teach us. The result is that achievements are summarized and events may be left less developed
18
Plutarch, The Age of Alexander, trans. I. Scott-Kilvert (London: Penguin Books, 1973), 252.
than they could be or given less context (or even sequencing) than would be the case if the larger
movement encased in a history was the main concern. This move to biography is Plutarch’s choice.
His remarks are something of a confessional. It means he chose to be selective and “creative” in
his packaging of the events and experiences he chronicles. Just as his choice of pairing is a literary
move to attempt to compare Athens and Rome, so also is his move to be biographical. He argues it
frees him up from certain other obligations in light of other more edifying goals.
The crucial reminder here is that there are kinds of creativity that run on a spectrum in ancient
historical portrayal. One type of creativity is structural or literary in moving things along topically
or in summarizing, collapsing, comparing, or paraphrasing. The other type of creativity is more
comprehensive. With it what did not happen or had not a possibility of happening is said to have
taken place. One type connects to history and may be impacted by the perspective brought to what
is described. The other is disconnected from history and is a work of the author really telling us
nothing about the author’s subject, being strictly a reflection of the author. It appears the authors
we have surveyed know this difference. They are comfortable with one type of creativity but are
less comfortable, as much as they are able, to avoid the second type.19
2.10. Lucian (Second Century ce)

The fullest ancient treatment of how to write history comes from an essay by Lucian with that very
title.20 We can only summarize key points in this longer work.
At the start, Lucian notes that writing history is not “easily organized or assembled without
effort.” It “takes careful thought” (How to Write 5). Next he notes that the goal is not praise of
the key figure but “recording events.” He goes on, “History, on the other hand, cannot tolerate
introducing a lie, even for a moment, any more than doctors say the windpipe can endure anything
swallowed in it” (7). Fable, eulogy, and exaggeration should be avoided (8). Later he complains
about historians who get localities wrong (24), omit or mishandle key events (27), or “contrive or
invent whatever comes to an ill-tamed tongue” (32).
Speaking positively, he argues for two qualities: “insight into statecraft and powers of expression”
(34). He notes not everyone has these skills. Then he says this: “The single task of a historian is to tell
things as they happened” (39). Truth is to be put over enmity in handling opponents (39). “You must
sacrifice to truth alone, ignoring everything else” (39). Thucydides and Herodotus are seen as examples
(42). He is to explain the “subject-matter as lucidly as he can” (44). “Careful, painstaking, and repeated
enquiry” are involved in gathering details about events (47). Ideal is that he is a witness himself but,
if not, rely on the “least biased informants and those least likely to suppress or add anything” (47).
He then puts together a credible account of things. There is to be no “distortion, false colours, or
alteration” (51). Their job is to give the account form like a sculptor working with his materials (51).
In the case of speeches, the language has to fit the character and subject, but one can “act the orator and
display your rhetorical powers” (58). On using myths, he says, “set it out for your audience to make
their own conjectures about it” (60). One writes for posterity (62). He closes with this summary: “Well,
19
Of course it is another question whether they actually are sufficiently aware of the difference as they seek to fill in gaps in
the first type of creative move so that the line they take is really carefully reflective of the roots of the events they portray.
Here the actual care and biases of the author may impact the results.
20
C. D. N. Costa, trans. Lucian: Selected Dialogues (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 181–202.
that is the spirit in which history should be written: with truthfulness and a regard for future hopes,
rather than with flattery aimed at getting pleasure out of present praise” (63).
What we see again is more care given to events than to speech, but truthfulness is still the goal
within all of this.
2.11. Cassius Dio (150–235 ce)

This historian argues he has read nearly everything about the Romans.21 He makes it clear that he
made a selection of materials as he writes in Roman History, saying, “I have not included it all in my
history, but only what I have seen fit to select” (fragment 1.2–3). In this, he sounds like 2 Maccabees
but unlike Arrian, whose accounts are more fulsome. Dio also notes in the same discussion that
although he has used fine style, that should not lead anyone to question the truthfulness of what
is presented. His goal has been to be “equally exact” in style and truthfulness. He also used the
“clearest accounts” (1.3). Later Dio changes direction. He notes he took ten years to collect
information and twelve years to compose (73.23). He notes he has set everything down, having
gathered it from reading, hearsay, and what he has seen (53.19.6). In his case he has reported on all
that has been given out, whether it be the truth or not (53.19.6).
So it appears Dio has not done much sifting. His account is more complete than those who seek
to summarize, but he still has made choices. Our spectrum of historical writing goes from full to
somewhat edited down to greatly summarized. Dio is in the middle group.
2.12. Apollonius/Philostratus (Late Second Century/Middle Third Century ce)

In some ways, much like Arrian, this work does not belong in this discussion as the writer is a
century plus from the events described.22 Yet he still sets forth how history should be done. The
sources for his work are cities where Apollonius was loved, from temples whose rites he restored,
accounts left by others, and some of his own letters (Life 1.2.2–3).23 His key source is Damis
who is said to have left notebooks that a member of his family gave to the empress Julia who
commissioned Apollonius’s work.24 Maximus of Aegeae was a second source, as was a will left by
Apollonius. There is no discussion of how these sources were handled in relationship to each other
besides assembling them.
2.13. Summary
Greco-Romans and, to some extent, Josephus discussed how to do history. They knew what was
required and also faced up to the hurdles such efforts involved. In general, they understood that
getting events right was important and was a priority, while more room seemed to be given to
speech for summary. Eyewitnesses and direct sources along with authors who could be trusted were
21
Citations from Cassius Dio, Roman History, 9 vols., trans. Earnest Cary, LCL (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press,
1914–27).
22
Derrenbacker (Ancient Composition, 70) appears to identify this work as from the first century. It is not. Philostratus
wrote this in the 220s or 230s. See C. Jones’s note on page 3 in his Loeb translation of this work; Philostratus, Apollonius
of Tyana: Books I–IV, ed. and trans. Christopher Jones, LCL (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2005).
23
The way the verses are numbered in this work can be confusing. So I note the Loeb page on which the citations are found,
on pages 37, 39.
24
More on this source appears in 1.19.1 (p. 77). Philostratus notes how full this scrapbook was.
preferred. Some works sifted their material. Others simply laid out all they knew. Now these texts
laid out the ideal. What historians do can be another matter, but at least the target and expectations
were clear. Whatever room there was for some summarizing and crafting of the material, the
expectation was that the historian was to seek to be careful about what they purported to be
historical.
3. A FEW EXAMPLES OF GOSPEL EXECUTION

What we have seen gives us some indication of what we might expect from ancient writings, including
the Gospels. Events are to be narrated with care. However, summarizing of speeches in more general
terms is likely. The core of the event is the focus. That something happened may be more important
than pinning down the exact sequence tied to it, because the key is the theme or lesson it portrays.
Fable, invention, and excessive bias are to be avoided. Some writers go for detail. Others summarize,
leaving the details to others. Everyone is making choices. So how might this work?
I take two of the sixteen examples Licona raises in chapter 4 on “Parallel Pericopes.”25 Obviously
one needs to work through all his examples, taking each on its own terms. Still the two I choose
show the range of what I think is possible in thinking through how the gospel texts work in an
ancient historical reporting context.
4. WHO IS THE GREATEST? [LICONA NO. 9] (MARK 9:33–37;

10:13–16, 35–45; MATTHEW 18:1–6; 19:13–15; 20:20–28; LUKE
9:46–48; 18:15–17; 22:24–30)
The listing here is already revealing.26 Multiple gospels raise the issue in multiple settings within
their own account. This would tell us the issue of who is the greatest is a theme of Jesus’ ministry
raised more than once, as Licona notes. It stands at the core of issues of character Jesus would have
regularly addressed. It warns us not to be too restrictive about how the tradition works, assuming
that a theme is recorded only once for one setting with one left to figure out which setting is the
original. Sometimes we can be too quick to limit the possibilities here.
Here are the possible moves Licona presents from this tradition:
● Matthew transfers by having the disciples initiate the discussion rather than Jesus.
● Matthew displaces a portion of Jesus’ teaching and transplants it in a different context.
● Mark transfers the mother’s request to her sons, since they were probably the initiators or
Matthew adds her in order to cast James and John in a better light.
● Matthew substitutes “kingdom” for “glory.”
● Luke probably paraphrased a teaching of Jesus before displacing and transplanting it in a
different context.
25
Licona, Why Are There Differences in the Gospels?
26
Ibid., 139–42.
● Luke either paraphrases and substitutes terms or uses a different source.

● Mark or Matthew substituted a term.
The moves Licona posits here are possible on the principle that themes can take precedence over
sequence. One of the ways literary compression can work and save space is to summarize a topic in
one setting or collapse a broad teaching of a theme into one setting. One interesting feature here
is that the issue of humility and service that Luke 22 highlights also connects nicely with the act of
foot washing in John 13, suggesting an overlap. Luke 22 has the look of a final summary on the
theme also taught elsewhere, which is exactly how John 13 also functions.
Now does all this potential rearrangement impact the historicity of the account when it comes
to what Jesus taught and emphasized? Do we lose anything in terms of the example Jesus sets?
How Jesus sets an example is the expressed concern and focus of the historiography we traced. In
the end, nothing at that level is impacted. What is uncertain in sequencing and in some detail27 is
consistent in what is being taught and the example set forth.
5. JESUS BEFORE THE SANHEDRIN AND PETER’S DENIAL [LICONA

14 (#332–33)] (MARK 14:53–72; MATTHEW 26:57–75; LUKE 22:55–71;
JOHN 18:13–27)
There is a lot going on in these parallels.28 It is full of choices. Most obvious is a decision when to
give the denials. Mark and Matthew opt to have the denials follow the Sanhedrin examination,
Luke reverses the order: opening with the denials. However we conceive of the synoptic gospels’
use of Mark (as first or last), it is clear one gospel writer made a distinct choice on sequence. This
proves that sequence sometimes is of lesser significance in making a choice than other factors.29
The other interesting feature in the denials is who did the accusing of Peter. In Matt 26:69–75,
it is a slave girl, another female, and then those standing there. The locales are in the courtyard,
outside, and unspecified. In Mark 14:66–72 we have one of the slave girls, the slave girl, and
bystanders. The locales are in the courtyard, out at the gateway, and unspecified. In Luke 22:54–62,
it is slave girl, another person—a man, and another. The locales are sat down in a courtyard, a little
later, and about an hour later. I note time instead of location because that is what Luke does here.
There is a note closing the account that Peter went outside after the rooster crowed but what is not
entirely clear is outside of what, the courtyard or leaving the locale as a whole? So the locale is not
as much of an issue as the questioners of Peter.
When it comes to the questioners, the one difference is on the second denial. Did the same slave girl
(Mark) or another female (Matthew) challenge Peter? Now here are other things the descriptions tell
27
Even an issue as to who initiates a discussion can be complex. Did the disciples put their mother up to it, so their request
came from them? If so, this is not unlike the fact that in Matthew 8, the centurion seeks Jesus out for a healing, while in
Luke 7, commissioned Jewish emissaries speak on his behalf. The point here is that the text as a whole plus the genuine
ancient possibilities within common rules of practice show us there can be more going on than a single, and potentially flat,
reading may indicate. What is important to observe in the differences is that the event’s core teaching, and thus the point of
presenting the account, is still consistently portrayed.
28
Licona, Why Are There Differences? 156–61.
29
It may well be the difference reflects a simultaneous action or events that overlapped to a degree, but note that none of the
writers chose to mix the events in a back-and-forth manner, probably for simplicity’s sake. They also made distinct choices.
Simply mentioning that something took place becomes more important than possessing any real intent about giving sequence.
us. There were several bystanders. There was drama about what was taking place. Peter’s first denial
introduced tension into the scene. Actually, Mark may be ambiguous here. He refers to “the” slave girl.
That refers back to the earlier slave girls from which one is now noted. That could be the same girl as
the first denial, which could be a natural way to take it, or simply one of the others. But let’s assume
it is a different female. The situation we may well have is that the first girl initiated the charge and
another, a new accuser to identify Peter, joined in, making a fresh bearer of the challenge. One writer
chooses one way to go, while another chooses the other. One writer is concerned to trace the sequence.
The other is concerned to show a stack of challengers. In the fog that was the group and eventually
a group challenge, the tradition tied to the scene and its summarization may be complex or go in
slightly distinct ways on detail. This suggestion strikes some as false harmonization, but it also reflects
the potential, complex realities an event can possess especially when we know it is being summarized.
In the examination scene, there are timing differences. It is clearly night in Matthew and Mark,
while Luke has the questions coming when it became day. The difference here may be a clue as to
why Luke reversed the order between the examination and denials. The key questions came late in
the sequence of time Jesus was with the leaders. It may even represent a later review of the gathered
evidence before they go to Pilate.30 The Jewish leadership had to get this right before Pilate. To take
Jesus before him and have the procurator release him would be a PR disaster for the leadership.
Here is Licona’s listing of issues that the parallels raise:
● Matthew substitutes by using a synonym.
● In all of the Synoptics, the accusations against Peter are offered as a statement. In John,
they are always offered in the form of a question.
● Luke may have translated the dialogue between Jesus and the Jewish leaders into terms that
would have been clearer to his Gentile readers.
● Luke reverses Mark’s order of Jesus being condemned and the abuse given him afterward,
placing the abuse prior to his condemnation. This is similar to his apparent reversal of the
order in which Matthew narrates the second and third temptations and when the veil of
the temple was torn from top to bottom.
● The discrepancies in details between Mark and Luke pertaining to who accused Peter of
being affiliated with Jesus and the specific locations where the accusations occurred suggest
the event itself was remembered while some of the peripheral details were not. Thus, one
or more of the evangelists reported the details as he or his sources recalled them, crafted,
or creatively reconstructed them as part of their literary artistry.
30
The italicized use of “may” here is intended. What I suggest here could be why we have the other difference. It is
something that cannot be shown one way or the other. In accounts we know are summarizing, options do remain, especially
when events of some duration are being overviewed. In yet another example and in another way, that something took place
is more important than sequence. However, if my suggestion is the case, then we have less prioritizing than we may think.
The difference may just reflect a difference in how to summarize. Also if this alternative is the case, where the gathered
evidence is being reviewed and summarized for presentation to Pilate, then the difference in the summarizing of the speech
may be tied to the review taking place. All of these possibilities are reminders that when we are piecing together this variety
of witnesses, we need to speak carefully and humbly about options taken and what we know took place or what may have
taken place. All of us are filling in blanks. But note again how the core of what took place is consistent between the accounts.
Where does our look at the texts and the ancient context leave us? Our survey of the ancients on
how speech is handled shows us that the core of the denials is historically in place, even as the
wording of challenge and response may vary.31 It is likely the challenges brought a give and take.
Peter is also moving around while hanging around, a sign he is nervous about being identified.
This also may explain the variation in peripheral detail in the tradition about a running, ongoing
dispute. A resulting mix of statements and questioning is possible. Summary has simplified in
distinct directions. All follow noted conventions of speech in such reporting. The evangelists are
playing by the rules of convention here.
Luke may well be summarizing or translating dialogue into Greek terms as Licona suggests.
Luke may also be presenting another facet of the hearing that was a resolution of a long process,
a resolution taken as all had arrived. If so, then we may be getting a supplement to Matthew and
Mark and less translating. There is no real way to decide between these options.
The sequencing of condemnation and abuse is another example of something taking place being
more important than sequence. In a tightly sequenced set of related events, distinct authors can
make distinct choices in ordering. Nothing of substance is impacted by the difference.
Licona probably overstates the options under the last category of discrepancies. Locations do
not seem to be in opposition. The choice of who objected may be related to the complexity of
the audience makeup, authorial or the tradition’s choices about how to relate the details, and an
exchange that took place in a context of summarizing reports feeding into the tradition. Rather than
having error of detail or memory in sources, we may have an abundance of it variously recalled and
reported. So recall is possibly at work here, as is choice in crafting. However, creative reconstruction
recedes in likelihood given the other options the sources raise. The testimony our sources as a whole
give us about the attitude toward invention also speaks skeptically in this direction.
5. CONCLUSION
The journey through ancient sources and two examples in the gospels has been revealing. Ancients
knew what history should try and do. They also knew what historical writing should try and avoid.
The task of summarizing meant choices. It raises options for us we must take into consideration when
thinking about the rules ancients played by in recording and presenting history. The gospels seem
to fit well into that world. It means there is greater room for options in how material gets handled
than some may have considered in the past. Yet the presence of additional options does not undercut
the core historicity of the texts that exercise such choices. Summary, the grouping of themes, and
the presence of potential multiple sources make our job of historical reconstruction complex but not
in a way that undercuts the fact we can still trust our gospel texts as historically reliable in the core
of what they claim, even in the midst of differences between parallel accounts. The way of ancient
historiography reveals such a take on these materials fits the setting of the gospels.
31
This fits with the verba/vox discussion that I have treated now for a long time. Both quotation and summary can be
historically accurate. D. L. Bock, “Precision and Accuracy: Making Distinctions in the Cultural Context That Give Us Pause
in Pitting the Gospels against Each Other,” in Do Historical Matters Matter to Faith? A Critical Appraisal of Modern and
Postmodern Approaches to Scripture, ed. J. K. Hoffmeier and D. R. Magary (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2012), 367–81; and
D. L. Bock, “The Words of Jesus in the Gospel: Live, Jive or Memorex,” in Jesus under Fire: Modern Scholarship Reinvents
the Historical Jesus, ed. M. J. Wilkins and J. P. Moreland (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1995), 73–99.
6. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Arrian. Anabasis of Alexander: Books 1–4. Translated by P. A. Brunt. LCL. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press, 1976.
Bock, D. L. “Precision and Accuracy: Making Distinctions in the Cultural Context That Give Us Pause in
Pitting the Gospels against Each Other.” Pages 367–81 in Do Historical Matters Matter to Faith? A Critical
Appraisal of Modern and Postmodern Approaches to Scripture. Edited by J. K. Hoffmeier and D. R. Magary,
Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2012.
Bock, D. L. “The Words of Jesus in the Gospel: Live, Jive or Memorex.” Pages 73–99 in Jesus under
Fire: Modern Scholarship Reinvents the Historical Jesus. Edited by M. J. Wilkins and J. P. Moreland. Grand
Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1995.
Cassius, Dio. Roman History. Translated by Earnest Cary. 9 vols. LCL. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press, 1914–27.
Costa, C. D. N., trans. Lucian: Selected Dialogues. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005.
Derrenbacker, R. A., Jr. Ancient Compositional Practices and the Synoptic Problem. BETL 86. Leuven: Leuven
Dionysius of Halicarnassus. Roman Antiquities: Books I–II. Translated by Earnest Cary. LCL. Cambridge,
MA: Harvard University Press, 1937.
Downing, F. G. “Redaction Criticism: Josephus’ Antiquities and the Synoptic Gospels (I).” JSNT 8
(1980): 46–65.
Downing, F. G. “Redaction Criticism: Josephus’ Antiquities and the Synoptic Gospels (II).” JSNT 9
(1980): 29–48.
Henderson, J. “Josephus’s Life and Jewish War Compared to the Synoptic Gospels.” JGRChJ 10 (2014): 113–31.
Herodotus. The Persian Wars: Books 1-2. Rev. ed. Translated by A. D. Godley. LCL. Cambridge, MA: Harvard
Josephus. The Life and against Apion. Translated by H. St. J. Thackeray. LCL. Cambridge, MA: Harvard
Josephus. The Jewish War: Book 1–III. Translated by H. St. J. Thackeray. LCL. Cambridge, MA: Harvard
Josephus. Jewish Antiquities: Books I–IV. Translated by H. St. J. Thackeray. LCL. Cambridge: Cambridge
Josephus. Jewish Antiquities: Books XI–XIV. Translated by Ralph Marcus. LCL. Cambridge, MA: Harvard
Josephus. Jewish Antiquities: Book XX General Index. Translated by L. H. Feldman. LCL. Cambridge,
Kenner, C. “Otho: A Targeted Comparison of Suetonius’s Biography and Tacitus’s History, with Implications
for the Gospels’ Historical Reliability.” BBR 21 (2011): 331–56.
Licona, Michael. Why Are There Differences in the Gospels? What Can We Learn from Ancient Biography.
Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016.
Mosley, A. W. “Historical Reporting in the Ancient World.” NTS 12 (1965): 10–26.
Philostratus. Apollonius of Tyana: Books I–IV. Edited and translated by Christopher Jones. LCL. Cambridge,
Plutarch. The Age of Alexander. Translated by I. Scott-Kilvert. London: Penguin Books, 1973.
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Books, 1960.
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Habicht. LCL. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2010.
Thucydides. History of the Peloponnesian War: Books 1–2. Rev. ed. Translated by C. F. Smith. LCL. Cambridge,
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
From, To, In, and Through

Caesarea: Herod’s Imperial City
as Significant Narrative Setting
and Literary Linking Device in
the Acts of the Apostles
JONATHAN E. SOYARS
1. INTRODUCTION
The Acts of the Apostles contains copious references to the geography of the Greco-Roman world.
Jerusalem might seem to take center stage.1 Nevertheless, Caesarea Maritima,2 a Herodian city on the
eastern shores of the Mediterranean Sea, is another “major geographical location and reference point
in Acts.”3 It is at least “the second most important city in Palestine” for the author.4 Caesarea was so
This chapter is dedicated to Professor James H. Charlesworth, who introduced me to the historical and symbolic geography
of the Levant during my studies at Princeton Theological Seminary. I first visited Caesarea Maritima with Professor
Charlesworth in 2006, and his fascination with the ancient city sparked my own. A previous version of this essay was
presented at the 2007 SBL International Meeting in Vienna. I am grateful to participants in the Methods in New Testament
Study Group for their constructive criticisms.
1
On the importance of Jerusalem for Luke-Acts, see, e.g., Mikeal C. Parsons, “The Place of Jerusalem on the Lukan
Landscape: An Exercise in Symbolic Cartography,” in Literary Studies in Luke-Acts: Essays in Honor of Joseph B. Tyson,
ed. Richard P. Thompson and Thomas E. Phillips (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1998), 155–71. More specifically,
the centrality of Jerusalem within Luke-Acts has been suggested via influence from Jubilees 8–9 by James M. Scott,
Geography in Early Judaism and Christianity: The Book of Jubilees, Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series
113 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), esp. 56. For critical analyses of Scott’s proposal, see Matthew
Sleeman, Geography and the Ascension Narrative in Acts, Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series 146
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 33–5; John M. Vonder Bruegge, Mapping Galilee in Josephus, Luke, and
John: Critical Geography and the Construction of an Ancient Space, ed. Cilliers Breytenbach and Martin Goodman, Ancient
Judaism and Early Christianity 93 (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 111–13.
2
The city was also known in antiquity as Caesarea Palestinae and should not be confused with Caesarea Philippi, which was
also known as Banias; in this essay, “Caesarea” refers solely to Caesarea Maritima.
3
Carl R. Holladay, Acts, New Testament Library (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2016), 201 n.71.
4
Martin Hengel, “Luke the Historian and the Geography of Palestine in the Acts of the Apostles,” in Between Jesus and
Paul: Studies in the Earliest History of Christianity, trans. John Bowden (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1983), 114;
Hengel is explicitly followed by Craig S. Keener, Acts: An Exegetical Commentary, 4 vols. (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker
important to Luke,5 and presumably so well-known to his ancient audience, that introducing it at length
was unnecessary.6 But its significance in Acts is not straightforward for many modern readers, so this
essay explores two aspects of how Luke’s “subtle but creative use of the lands and cities of Palestine and
the Mediterranean basin to set the scene for his story” extends to the city.7 I refute the notion that Luke
had no specific interest in deploying Caesarea strategically within his narrative or that his seemingly
cryptic mentions of it are essentially pointless or merely transferred from underlying sources.8 Luke
was not entirely ignorant of geography of the region or the cities within it.9 To the contrary, he was
very interested in Caesarea in particular and seems to have known quite a bit about it.10 In fact, the
city seems to have “held [his] attention” over the course of composing his narrative.11 Admittedly, a
comprehensive account of Luke’s symbolic geography is impossible to compile.12 But certain aspects of
the purported “mystery” of his narrative use of geography, particularly as it pertains to Caesarea, can be
solved.13
Academic, 2012), 1732. For an extensive discussion of the authorship and compositional chronology of Acts, which largely
adopts traditional positions, see Keener, Acts, 402–16; cf. Richard I. Pervo, Acts, ed. Harold W. Attridge, Hermeneia
(Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2009), 5–7.
5
I assume the common authorship of Luke-Acts and refer to its implied author as “Luke” throughout. Likewise, although
“Saul” only becomes “Paul” in Acts 13:9, for the sake of consistency I adopt the latter characterization.
6
Joan Taylor, “Paul’s Caesarea,” in The Urban World and the First Christians, ed. Steve Walton, Paul R. Trebilco, and David
W. J. Gill (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2017), 43; similarly, James D. G. Dunn, Beginning from Jerusalem, vol. 2 of
Christianity in the Making (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2009), 387–8.
7
Edward Mazich, “Geography as Narrative in Luke-Acts,” TBT 41:2 (2003): 95. A comparable assessment is offered by
Matthew L. Skinner, Locating Paul: Places of Custody as Narrative Settings in Acts 21-28, Academica Biblica 13 (Atlanta,
GA: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003), 27: “the settings of Acts are indispensable for a comprehensive understanding of
Acts as a narrative account.”
8
These suggestions are implicit in the discussion of Acts 18:22 by Jacob Jervell, Die Apostelgeschichte, Kritisch-exegetischer
Kommentar über das Neue Testament 3 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998), 467–8. Similarly, see Bruce J. Malina
and John J. Pilch, Social-Science Commentary on the Book of Acts (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 2008), 134.
9
Critical commentaries routinely assert Luke’s lack of familiarity with the geography of the province. See, among many
others, Gerhard Schneider on Paul’s trip under guard from Jerusalem to Caesarea in Acts 23:23: “Lukas hat von der
Entfernung kaum eine zutreffende Vorstellung”; Die Apostelgeschichte, 2 vols., Herders theologischer Kommentar zum
Neuen Testament 5 (Freiburg: Herder, 1980), 2:340. A far more positive assessment is attested throughout Colin J. Hemer,
The Book of Acts in the Setting of Hellenistic History, ed. Conrad H. Gempf, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen
Testament 49 (Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck), 1989).
10
C. K. Barrett, Preliminary Introduction and Commentary on Acts I-XIV, vol. 1 of The Acts of the Apostles, International
Critical Commentary (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994), 51 n.3. Barrett also claims, “The author so wrote as to claim contact
with Caesarea; he had been there” (51); similarly, Dunn, Beginning from Jerusalem, 388. Keener, Acts, 1732, develops a
more substantial version of this claim: “Caesarea was likely [Luke’s] home base.”
11
Daniel Marguerat, Les Actes des apôtres (1-12), Commentaire du Nouveau Testament 5a (Genève: Labor et Fides, 2007),
372 n.31.
12
For an excellent analysis of symbolic geography and Luke-Acts, which reflects the scholarly turn to discussions of
conceptual space, see John S. Kloppenborg, “Luke’s Geography: Knowledge, Ignorance, Sources, and Spatial Conception,”
in Luke on Jesus, Paul and Christianity: What Did He Really Know?, ed. Joseph Verheyden and John S. Kloppenborg,
Biblical Tools and Studies 29 (Leuven: Peeters, 2017), 101–43. Kloppenborg correctly observes that “topography is critical
to [Luke’s] project” (102).
13
For example, the reason for Paul’s landing at Caesarea only so that he could travel briefly to Jerusalem before heading
to Antioch, where he stayed for some time and therefore presumably intended to go all along (18:22–23), is labeled
a “Rätsel” by Klaus Haacker, Die Apostelgeschichte, Theologischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament 5, ed. Ekkehard
W. Stegemann, Angelika Strotmann, and Klaus Wengst (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 2019), 313. The same language was
used by Ernst Haenchen, Die Apostelgeschichte, 7th ed., Kritisch-exegetischer Kommentar über das Neue Testament 6
(Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1977), 525: “das Rätsel der geheimnisvollen Reise des Paulus.”
From, To, In, and Through Caesarea 259
This essay begins by surveying Luke’s references to Caesarea in Acts and summarizing key aspects
of the city’s history up through the first century ce14 Then, in coordination with that survey and
summary, it assesses previous scholarly analyses of Caesarea within the symbolic geography of Acts.
That geography is “complex, even jagged, and full of movement,”15 but it is also fundamentally
theological,16 a point rarely made in connection to Caesarea. I show that Caesarea is particularly
significant in the narrative of Acts for two major related reasons. First, because of the historical role
that the city played as a major seaport, seat of Roman civil and political power in the region, and center
of cultural engagement and economic exchange between its citizens, Judea, and the rest of the so-called
civilized world, in Acts it serves as an important narrative setting that reflects the city’s demographics
and history. This aspect of Caesarea’s significance has been recognized in scholarship, although it has
been explained in different (and often irreconcilable) ways. But it has not previously been associated
with another of Caesarea’s functions in Acts. In addition to serving as a narrative setting important
in its own right, in Acts Caesarea also serves as a literary linking device. Paul’s travels through the city
symbolically connect those communities that he encountered on his various journeys and by extension
the other communities that readers of Acts inhabit. They also symbolically connect such communities
and readers with the roots of the Jesus movement in Jerusalem and the significance and theological
implications of important events that Luke narrates in Caesarea itself, including the conversion of
Cornelius and Paul’s trial before he sails for Rome.
2. CAESAREA IN THE NARRATIVE OF ACTS

Acts attests nearly ninety specific geographical locations or regions, but certain locales
obviously appear more often than others.17 While Jerusalem may be the most prominent city
on Luke’s “geographical horizon”18 or “mental map,”19 Caesarea is indisputably significant
14
Even if the arguments by Richard I. Pervo, Dating Acts: Between the Evangelists and the Apologists (Santa Rosa,
CA: Polebridge Press, 2006), and others were to conclusively establish the composition of Acts in the early second century,
against the scholarly consensus that assigns it to the late first, this roughly bounded historical period would still be relevant.
15
Holladay, Acts, 47. For an exploration of the significance of movement in Luke-Acts, particularly as it pertains to hospitality
and migration in the present, see Eric D. Barreto, “A Gospel on the Move: Practice, Proclamation, and Place in Luke-Acts,”
Int 72 (2018): 175–87.
16
Marguerat, Actes (1-12), 20.
17
Twelve cities or regions are explicitly mentioned more than five times: Antioch, Asia, Caesarea, Cilicia, Damascus, Egypt,
Ephesus, Jerusalem, Joppa, Judea, Macedonia, and Samaria. Only Jerusalem, Caesarea, and Egypt are mentioned fifteen
times or more.
18
See esp. James M. Scott, “Luke’s Geographical Horizon,” in The Book of Acts in Its Graeco-Roman Setting, vol. 2 of The
Book of Acts in Its First Century Setting, ed. David W. J. Gill and Conrad Gempf (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1994),
483–544, esp. 522–44. Scott detects in Acts “a confluence of two worlds—the Graeco-Roman and the Jewish” (522), but he
does not explicitly reference Caesarea. Dean Philip Bechard, Paul Outside the Walls: A Study of Luke’s Socio-Geographical
Universalism in Acts 14:8-20, Analecta biblica 143 (Rome: Editrice Pontificio Istituto Biblico, 2000), 338, describes not
confluence but competition between “Jewish images of the world” and “Graeco-Roman concepts and traditions.” See his
summary of Luke’s “geographical horizon” on pp. 338–42, which only references Caesarea in passing (342), as well as his
broader discussion of putative Jewish and Graeco-Roman sources on pp. 171–231 and pp. 233–353, respectively.
19
Loveday C. A. Alexander has published an assessment of the narrative toponomy of Acts, with a comparison of the mental
maps of Luke, Paul, Chariton, and Xenophon and an emphasis on the travel narratives in Acts: “Narrative Maps: Reflections
on the Toponomy of Acts,” in Acts in Its Ancient Literary Context: A Classicist Looks at the Acts of the Apostles, Early
Christianity in Context; Library of New Testament Studies 289 (London: T&T Clark, 2005), 97–131. Alexander’s essay
too.20 Luke refers to it fifteen times, even though it is mentioned nowhere else in the New
Testament.21 The sheer numeric frequency of this use in Acts warrants narrative analysis alongside
the city of David.
Despite the city’s significance in Acts, the residents of Caesarea are not included in the extensive
Pentecost list of 2:9–11. The city eventually appears at 8:40, where it is mentioned as the evangelist
Philip’s ultimate destination after his encounter with the Ethiopian eunuch.22 From this point
forward in Acts, Caesarea and its inhabitants will repeatedly take center stage in the narrative,
particularly in reference to the gentile mission and confrontations with powerful Jewish and Roman
civil authorities. A number of passing references are made to Caesarea too. For example, upon his
return to Jerusalem from Damascus (9:26–30), Paul encounters certain “Hellenists” who intend to
kill him, and in order to escape, believers send him to Tarsus by way of Caesarea. Paul’s departure
from Caesarea in 9:30 foreshadows the other sea journeys that he will take throughout the book,
inaugurating an important Lukan leitmotif.23 Following Peter’s healing of Aeneas in Lydda (9:21–
35) and the raising of Tabitha in Joppa (9:36–43), the story shifts back to accounts of the gentile
mission’s initial successes in Caesarea for the next chapter and a half.
The account of the conversion of the Roman centurion Cornelius that follows in ch. 10 and Peter’s
defense of it in ch. 11 are important elements in the depiction of the Jerusalem community’s initial
mission to gentiles (10:1–48; cf. 11:1–18).24 Acts situates the first explicitly gentile conversions in
Caesarea, where Luke says that “the holy spirit fell upon all those who heard the word” (10:44),
presumably including others besides Cornelius, such as his family members and friends (10:24).
Such conversions would presumably have been somewhat common in the metropolis of Caesarea,
which as we will see was markedly diverse.25 Regardless, within the narrative of Acts, Cornelius’s
conversion explicitly signals that what began in Jerusalem at Pentecost has made its way down
from there to the Mediterranean coast. Interestingly, Acts presents numerous believers in Caesarea
does not include specific reference to the relationship of narrative toponomy to the overarching theological trajectory of
Acts. On Luke’s “mental map,” see also Kloppenborg, “Luke’s Geography,” 133.
20
See also the narrative surveys of Caesarea in Acts in Lee A. Johnson, “A Literary Guide to Caesarea Maritima,” in Religious
Rivalries and the Struggle for Success in Caesarea Maritima, ed. Terence L. Donaldson, Studies in Christianity and Judaism
8 (Waterloo, ON: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2000), 51–2; and Benjamin R. Wilson, “Jew-Gentile Relations and the
Geographic Movement of Acts 10:1-11:18,” CBQ 80 (2018): 88–96, which focuses on chs. 10–11. The most extensive is
Taylor, “Paul’s Caesarea,” 43–55.
21
Acts 8:40; 9:30; 10:1, 24; 11:11; 12:19; 18:22; 21:8, 16; 23:23, 33; 25:1, 4, 6, 13. The third most frequently named city
in Acts is Antioch in Syria (fourteen times: 6:5, 11:19, 20, 22, 26 [bis], 27, 13:1, 14:26, 15:22, 23, 30, 35, 18:22). Taylor,
“Paul’s Caesarea,” 43, mistakenly includes a reference to Syrian Antioch at 11:25 and omits the occurrence at 14:26.
22
Following a tradition of German-language scholarship, Rudolf Pesch, Die Apostelgeschichte, 2 vols., Evangelisch-
katholischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament 5 (Zürich: Benziger Verlag, 1986), 1:287, 289, attributes Acts 8:40b (and
thus the reference to Caesarea) to Lukan redaction, although he concedes that the putative pre-Lukan source might have
included a reference to Philip’s missionary activity near the coast (294); see esp. the bibliography at 287 n.6. Jürgen Roloff, Die
Apostelgeschichte, Das Neue Testament Deutsch 5, ed. Gerhard Friedrich and Peter Stuhlmacher (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck
& Ruprecht, 1981), 139, argues for the authenticity of v. 40, as noted by Pesch.
23
Taylor, “Paul’s Caesarea,” 46.
24
The literature on the characterization and significance of Cornelius in Acts is vast. In addition to the commentaries, see,
e.g., Bonnie J. Flessen, An Exemplary Man: Cornelius and Characterization in Acts 10 (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2011).
25
Kenneth G. Holum, Robert L. Hohlfelder, Robert L. Vann, and Roberta Blender Maltese, eds., King Herod’s
Dream: Caesarea on the Sea (New York: Norton, 1988), 157, suggests that “the crowded, alien, and intense social universe
of the city definitely encouraged [them].” The claim is not elaborated or defended.
before the Cornelius event (i.e., Philip and his family [8:40, 21:8]). Their presence before Peter’s
arrival anticipates the presence of believers in Rome before Paul’s arrival (28:15). In other words, as
Luke tells the story, the conversions of Cornelius and those present with him and Peter in Caesarea
(10:44, 11:15) do not inaugurate but add to a preexistent faithful community there.
One chapter later, Herod Agrippa I executes James and John (12:1–2) and arrests Peter (12:3–19a),
probably in Jerusalem, given the temporal reference to the festival of unleavened bread.26 Luke says
that Herod Agrippa then “went down from Judea and stayed at Caesarea” (12:19b), implying that
the former does not include the latter.27 A description of Herod Agrippa’s unusual death follows in
12:20–23.28 Because he neither gave glory to God nor prevented his subjects from glorifying himself,
Luke describes how an angel of the Lord struck him;29 he was then eaten by worms and died (v. 23),
presumably in Caesarea.30 Whether the details of Herod Agrippa’s death are historical does not seem
to be Luke’s primary concern. Instead, its significance should be understood in light of the transition
that links this passage with the one that follows: “The word of God spread and continued gaining
adherents” (v. 24). Simply put, in Acts the spread of God’s word cannot be stopped. Not even those
who try to usurp the place of God will hinder the coming of God’s spirit among all people.31
Following Herod’s death in ch. 12, Caesarea does not reappear until the end of Paul’s second
so-called missionary journey.32 Paul’s second journey begins in Antioch, like the first, and it ends
26
On Agrippa I, see Daniel R. Schwartz, Agrippa I: The Last King of Judaea, Texte und Studien zum Antiken Judentum 23
(Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1990).
27
Taylor, “Paul’s Caesarea,” 49, astutely observes that “in the narrative space of Acts Caesarea is configured as lying outside
Judea” (see also comparable statements on p. 57); similarly, Hengel, “Luke the Historian,” 114. For a potential explanation,
see Kloppenborg, “Luke’s Geography,” 118–19. According to Pervo, Acts, 312 n.113, “the narrator appears to equate
‘Judea’ with ‘Jerusalem,’ a kind of synecdoche.”
28
A similar account is famously given in Josephus, Ant. 19.343–50. For a comparison of the two, see Justin Taylor,
Commentaire Historique (Act. 9,1-18,22), vol. V of Les Actes des deux apôtres, Études bibliques. Nouvelle série 23
(Paris: Gabalda, 1994), 121–5; Keener, Acts, 1965–8. In light of the accounts’ coherence, Pervo, Acts, 312–13 argues that
“the hypothesis that Luke used Josephus is at least as strong as the alternatives.”
29
Hans-Josef Klauck, Magic and Paganism in Early Christianity, trans. Brian McNeil (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2000), 43–4,
suggests that the crowd’s acclamation of Herod’s voice as “of a god” (θεοῦ φωνὴ καὶ οὐκ ἀνθρώπου, 12:22) was intended by
Luke as a veiled criticism of Nero, whose high view of his own voice was well known and even referred to in the same way
by Dio Cassius. Klauck develops this idea at greater length in “Des Kaisers schöne Stimme: Herrscherkritik in Apg 12,20-
23,” in Religion und Gesellschaft im frühen Christentum: Neutestamentliche Studien, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen
zum Neuen Testament 152 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 251–67.
30
For a brief discussion of this and other so-called “punitive miracles,” see Pervo, Acts, 52–3. Holladay, Acts, 255, includes
Agrippa I among the “ ‘God-fighters’ who try to oppose the purposes of God but instead experience divine retribution”; see
the comparanda at n.185.
31
O. Wesley Allen, Jr. provides an extended discussion of Herod’s death with particular attention to the narrative relationship
between divine providence, retribution, apologetic, and exhortation in Luke-Acts. See The Death of Herod: The Narrative
and Theological Function of Retribution in Luke-Acts, Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series 158 (Atlanta,
GA: Scholars Press, 1997).
32
James D. G. Dunn has argued that we should abandon the language of Paul’s second and third “missionary journeys”
altogether and speak instead of his “Aegean mission”; The Acts of the Apostles, Epworth Commentaries (Peterborough: Epworth
Press, 1996), 212–13. Dunn repeats this idea in Beginning from Jerusalem, 660–61. For support, in the latter work Dunn
cites Johannes Weiss, Earliest Christianity: A History of the Period A.D. 30-150, ed. Frederick C. Grant (New York: Harper,
1959), 1:277; John Knox, Chapters in a Life of Paul, ed. Douglas R. A. Hare, rev. ed. (London: SCM Press, 1989), 25–6
(note esp. p. 26: “the visualization of Paul’s life as an apostle in terms of three great missionary tours represents a later
way of seeing and interpreting a career that originally did not appear so at all”); and L. Michael White, From Jesus to
Christianity (San Francisco, CA: Harper San Francisco, 2004), ch. 8. Compare Daniel Marguerat, Les Actes des Apôtres (13-
28), Commentaire du Nouveau Testament Deuxième série 5b (Genève: Labor et Fides, 2015), 179: “Luc relate deux voyages
in Caesarea (15:30–18:22). Caesarea is not mentioned again until the conclusion of Paul’s third
journey, which, like his second, also ends there (21:8). Thus, Caesarea serves as the explicit
geographical terminus to the last two of Paul’s three missionary journeys. (This is important and
enables Caesarea to function as a literary linking device, as will be discussed at greater length below.)
It also sets up the first journey, so, at least in the memory of the reader, it is closely associated with
that one as well. Furthermore, the city provides the starting point for Paul’s ultimate voyage to
Rome (27:1–28:14), where he will go “from Caesarea to Caesar himself.”33
In Acts, Herod’s city is also the place where important characters live. Luke suggests that certain
members of “the Way” were from Caesarea, including Philip the “evangelist, one of the seven,”
who with his four prophesying daughters had a home there (21:8–9).34 Luke’s mention of Philip’s
prophesying daughters sets up an interesting encounter—which also takes place in Caesarea—
between Paul and a prophet from Judea named Agabus. In Acts 21:10–14, Luke narrates how
Agabus took Paul’s belt and bound his feet and hands with it, thereby anticipating Paul’s being
bound and handed over in Jerusalem (v. 11b). In response, the narrator and the “locals” urge Paul
not to go to Jerusalem (v. 12). Paul’s reply to them is similarly urgent: “I am ready not only to be
bound but also to die in Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus” (v. 13). Agabus’s prophecy and
Paul’s response to it look forward to his arrest in Jerusalem, his subsequent trial in Caesarea, and
his ultimate journey to Rome from Caesarea (21:27–28:31), where Agabus’s prophecy took place.
According to the narrative of Acts, Philip and his daughters, as well as Cornelius and those
converted in chs. 10–11, were not the only believers who lived in Caesarea. Other unnamed
“disciples” did too (21:16). This group might have included a certain Mnason of Cyprus,
although the text is uncertain.35 Perhaps these believers in Caesarea were among the “friends”
or “companions” whom Felix did not bar from caring for Paul during his imprisonment (24:23),
although on this point the narrative is silent. One detail, however, remains clear. What in Acts
began as a movement in Jerusalem has grown to encompass Jews and gentiles alike, particularly
those who inhabit Caesarea and the other cities and coastal regions visited by Peter and Paul.
In addition to the gentile mission and the centrality of faithful community, in Acts Caesarea is
intimately connected with the politics and propaganda of Rome, as the city had been since its refounding
in honor of the emperor by Herod.36 The climax of the whole narrative of Acts—the account of Paul’s
trial before Felix (24:2–25), his appeal to the emperor before Festus (25:6–12), and his speech before
Agrippa II (26:1–32)—is entirely situated in Caesarea once Paul is transferred there from Jerusalem.
missionnaires de Paul séparés par le concile de Jérusalem, et non trois.” Although I grant Weiss’s point that the traditional
divisions are “hardly accurate,” they are descriptively “suitable enough,” as he admits, so for the sake of convention I still
use them.
33
34
Like those of Cornelius, studies of the character of Philip are extensive. See, among others, F. Scott Spencer, The Portrait
of Philip in Acts: A Study of Roles and Relations, Journal for the Study of the New Testament Supplement Series 67
(Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1992); and Axel von Dobbeler, Der Evangelist Philippus in der Geschichte des Urchristentums: Eine
prosopographische Skizze, Texte und Arbeiten zum neutestamentlichen Zeitalter 30 (Tübingen: Francke, 2000); Christopher
R. Matthews, Philip: Apostle and Evangelist: Configurations of a Tradition, Supplements to Novum Testamentum 105
(Leiden: Brill, 2002); and P. Fabien, Philippe “l’évangéliste” au tournant de la mission dans les Actes des apôtres: Philippe,
Simon le magicien et l’eunuque éthiopien, Lectio divina 232 (Paris: Cerf, 2010).
35
Pervo, Acts, 539, notes that “the syntax of vv. 15-16 is garbled.” Pervo then suggests that “it is not absolutely clear that the
narrator locates Mnason in Jerusalem” (539–40 n.68).
36
This is a key point stressed repeatedly, and in my judgment rightly, by Taylor, “Paul’s Caesarea,” as will be discussed below.
Ultimately, Caesarea becomes a stage for narrative conflict between Paul and imperial Rome, as well
as the articulation of Luke’s vision of the gospel’s ultimate vindication by God. And, although Acts
27:1–2 does not identify it as such, Caesarea must be the place where Paul finally sets sail for Rome
near the end of the book.
3. KEY ASPECTS OF CAESAREA’S HISTORY

Luke’s many references to geography and space contribute to the persuasive potential of Acts.37
Caesarea is no exception: the city’s history looms large in the narrative. That history can be written
from a variety of literary sources, particularly the works of Josephus, as might be expected.38 Over
the past few decades, professional excavations at Caesarea have uncovered material remains that
have supplemented—and in some cases supplanted—evidence from ancient authors like him.39
37
Skinner, Locating Paul, 27.
38
Surveys of Josephus’s references to Caesarea are given by Johnson, “Literary Guide,” 38–43; and Taylor, “Paul’s Caesarea,”
55–7. For an extensive analysis of the function of Caesarea as a setting in Josephus’s Antiquities and War and Acts, see
R. Jackson Painter, “East Meets West: Caesarea Maritima in Josephus and the Acts of the Apostles” (presented at the Book
of Acts Section, Society of Biblical Literature Annual Meeting, Washington DC, 2006). I am grateful to Professor Painter for
generously sharing a prepublication version of his forthcoming paper.
39
In addition to a number of important stand-alone articles and essays, substantial excavation reports published to date
include the following: Charles T. Fritsch, ed., Studies in the History of Caesarea Maritima, vol. 1 of The Joint Expedition
to Caesarea Maritima, Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Supplementary Studies 19, ed. David Noel
Freedman (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press for the American Schools of Oriental Research, 1975); Lee I. Levine and Ehud
Netzer, Excavations at Caesarea Maritima, 1975, 1976, 1979: Final Report, Qedem 21 (Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology,
Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 1986); Jeffrey A. Blakely, The Pottery and Dating of Vault 1: Horreum, Mithraeum, and
Later Uses, vol. 4 of The Joint Expedition to Caesarea Maritima Excavation Reports (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press,
1987); Avner Raban, The Site and the Excavations, vol. 1 of The Harbours of Caesarea Maritima: Results of the Caesarea
Ancient Harbour Excavation Project, 1980-1985, ed. John Peter Oleson, BAR International Series 491 (Oxford: British
Archaeological Reports, 1989); John P. Oleson, Michael A. Fitzgerald, Andrew N. Sherwood, and Steven E. Sidebotham,
The Finds and the Ship, vol. 2 of The Harbours of Caesarea Maritima: Results of the Caesarea Ancient Harbour Excavation
Project, 1980–1985, ed. John Peter Oleson, BAR International Series 594 (Oxford: Tempus Reparatum, 1994); Clayton Miles
Lehmann and Kenneth G. Holum, The Greek and Latin Inscriptions of Caesarea Maritima, vol. 5 of The Joint Expedition to
Caesarea Maritima Excavation Reports (Boston, MA: American Schools of Oriental Research, 2000); Jane DeRose Evans,
The Coins and the Hellenistic, Roman, and Byzantine Economy of Palestine, vol. 6 of The Joint Expedition to Caesarea
Maritima Excavation Reports, American Schools of Oriental Research Archaeological Reports 10 (Boston, MA: American
Schools of Oriental Research, 2006); Joseph Patrich, The Objects, vol. 1 of Archaeological Excavations at Caesarea Maritima
Areas CC, KK, and NN: Final Report (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2008); Kenneth G. Holum, Jennifer A. Stabler,
and Eduard G. Reinhardt, eds., Caesarea Reports and Studies: Excavations 1995–2007 within the Old City and the Ancient
Harbor, BAR International Series 1784 (Oxford: Archaeopress, 2008); Marylinda Govaars, Marie Spiro, and L. Michael
White, Field O: The “Synagogue” Site, vol. 9 of The Joint Expedition to Caesarea Maritima Excavation Reports, American
Schools of Oriental Research Archaeological Reports 13 (Boston, MA: American Schools of Oriental Research, 2009);
Avner Raban, The Harbour of Sebastos (Caesarea Maritima) in Its Roman Mediterranean Context, ed. Michal Artzy, Beverly
Goodman, and Zvi Gal, BAR International Series 1930 (Oxford: Archaeopress, 2009); Yosef Porath, Herod’s Circus and
Related Buildings Part 1: Architecture and Stratigraphy, vol. 1 of Caesarea Maritima, IAA Reports 53 (Jerusalem: Israel
Antiquities Authority, 2013); and Robert Jehu Bull, The Mithraeum at Caesarea Maritima, vol. 2 of The Joint Expedition
to Caesarea Maritima Excavation Reports, American Schools of Oriental Research Archaeological Reports 25 (Boston,
MA: American Schools of Oriental Research, 2017). See also Robert Lindley Vann, ed., Caesarea Papers: Straton’s Tower,
Herod’s Harbour, and Roman and Byzantine Caesarea, Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplementary Series 5 (Ann Arbor,
MI: Journal of Roman Archaeology, 1992); Avner Raban and Kenneth G. Holum, eds., Caesarea Maritima: A Retrospective
after Two Millenia, Documenta et monumenta Orientis antiqui 21 (Leiden: Brill, 1996); Kenneth G. Holum, Avner Raban,
and J. Patrich, Caesarea Papers 2: Herod’s Temple, the Provincial Governor’s Praetorium and Granaries, the Later Harbor, a
Gold Coin Hoard, and Other Studies, Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplementary Series 35 (Portsmouth, RI: JRA, 1999);
Taken together, ancient sources and the results of modern inquiry have much to teach us about
Caesarea in antiquity.40 Due to the constraints of space, a mere fraction of their key contributions
will be surveyed here.41
In the fourth century bce, a Sidonian king named Strato founded a small settlement at a
Phoenician port that would eventually be named for him on an important trade route near the
sea.42 Later the Hasmonean Alexander Jannaeus took control of Strato’s Tower, and Pompey
subsequently transferred it to the province of Syria in 63 bce. Octavian then granted it to Herod
the Great in 30 bce, and he refounded, expanded, and renamed it Caesarea—in honor of his
Roman patron, Augustus Caesar.43 Motivated in part by his political aspirations, Herod led a
substantial building project at the site over the course of roughly a decade (ca. 22–10/9 bce).
This project included the construction of an enormous harbor, which Herod named Sebastos,44
a hippodrome, an amphitheater, a system of sewers and an aqueduct to Mount Carmel, and
public spaces for the games, including those of the Olympiad. These massive undertakings at
Caesarea demonstrated Herod’s commitment to and dependence on Rome, even as Caesarea
and particularly its port proved politically and strategically useful to Roman governance of
the eastern provinces.45 Their construction also signaled Herod’s desire to win the loyalty and
confidence of the city’s non-Jewish inhabitants, to which he appealed by building a magnificent
temple to Augustus.46
Eventually, Caesarea became the seat of the Roman prefect and the capital of the newly established
province of Judea (6 ce). Thereafter the city enjoyed prominence in the sociopolitical life of the
region. Roman troops, and possibly entire cohorts, were stationed in the city (cf. Acts 10:1, 27:1).47 It
played an important strategic role in the first Jewish revolt (66–70 ce) that resulted in the destruction
Joseph Patrich, Studies in the Archaeology and History of Caesarea Maritima: Caput Judaeae, Metropolis Palaestinae, Ancient
Judaism and Early Christianity 77 (Leiden: Brill, 2011).
40
For studies on the history of Caesarea without extended reference to biblical texts in general or the narrative of Luke-
Acts in particular, consult, among others, Lee I. Levine, Caesarea under Roman Rule, Studies in Judaism in Late Antiquity
7 (Leiden: Brill, 1975); 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, and Matthew Black, rev. ed. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1979), 2:115–18; Joseph Ringel, Césarée
de Palestine: étude historique et archéologique (Paris: Éditions Ophrys, 1975); Baruch Lifshitz, “Césarée de Palestine, son
histoire et ses institutions,” in ANRW, ed. Hildegard Temporini and Wolfgang Haase, Part 2, Principat, 8 (Berlin: Gruyter,
1977), 490–518; Holum et al., Herod’s Dream.
41
An excellent synthesis of the ancient literary sources pertaining to Caesarea and the city’s archaeological remains with
accompanying bibliography has been provided by Taylor, “Paul’s Caesarea,” 55–66.
42
For a more extensive overview, see Gideon Foerster, “The Early History of Caesarea,” in Studies in the History of Caesarea
Maritima, vol. 1 of The Joint Expedition to Caesarea Maritima, ed. Charles T. Fritsch, Bulletin of the American Schools of
Oriental Research Supplementary Studies 19, ed. David Noel Freedman (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1975), 23–42.
43
Josephus, War 1.408–15, 3.409–13; Ant. 14.76, 15.331–41.
44
According to Josephus, War 1.410, Sebastos was even larger than Piraeus, the port of Athens. On the difficulty of comparing
the two, see Holum et al., Herod’s Dream, 100.
45
H. Keith Beebe, “Caesarea Maritima: Its Strategic and Political Significance to Rome,” JNES 42.3 (1983): 195–207.
46
Lee I. Levine, “The Jewish Community at Caesarea in Late Antiquity,” in Caesarea Papers: Straton’s Tower, Herod’s
Harbour, and Roman and Byzantine Caesarea, ed. Robert Lindley Vann, Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplementary
Series 5 (Ann Arbor, MI: Journal of Roman Archaeology, 1992), 268. In other words, according to Hohlfelder, “this
ambitious building program was a gentile counterpoint to [Herod’s] rebuilding of the Jewish temple”; “Caesarea,” in Anchor
Bible Dictionary (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1992), 1:799.
47
For a sober analysis of the relevant chronological and referential debates, see Christopher B. Zeichmann, “Military
Forces in Judaea 6–130 CE: The Status Quaestionis and Relevance for New Testament Studies,” CBR 17 (2018): 86–120,
esp. 107–12.
of the Jerusalem Temple.48 In fact, numerous outbursts of violence between Jews, Greeks, and their
Roman rulers in Caesarea probably led in no small part to the beginning of war with Rome.49
Despite what else is known about the history of Caesarea in the first century ce, the city’s religious
composition has been contested. In scholarship, the debate—to the extent that there is one—
largely pits biblical scholars against non-biblical scholars. Few commentaries on or studies of Acts
acknowledge the existence of a sizable or even significant population of Jews in Caesarea. The claim
by C. K. Barrett that “there were many Jews in the city” is unusual in this regard (and, as will shortly
become clear, probably right).50 Even the more tentative statement by Justin Taylor, namely that there
was at Caesarea “une importante population juive,” is more suggestive than what is found in many
commentaries.51 By contrast, Martin Hengel variously claimed that most of Caesarea’s residents were
gentile or “Greek” and that it was “predominantly pagan.”52 This suggestion is by no means original
to him, but his articulation of it has exerted significant influence in subsequent biblical scholarship.53
Hengel’s claims were based on a straightforward reading of the testimony of Josephus, who posited
“a population consisting chiefly of Greeks” (War 3.410; cf. 2.266–70; Thackeray, LCL).54
Crucially, though, Lee I. Levine points out the imprecision of ancient population figures available
for Caesarea and, more importantly, argues for the presence of a “flourishing Jewish community”
there.55 He is not alone in this judgment. Irving M. Levey, whose work seems to have been largely
overlooked by commentators on Acts, makes an even more pointed one: “When we first read about
the Jews in their Caesarea setting, we discover that they are already a well established community
with synagogues and elders and wealth and organized strength.”56 Ultimately, in Levine’s judgment,
48
Hohlfelder, “Caesarea,” 800.
49
For an extended analysis, consult Lee I. Levine, “The Jewish-Greek Conflict in First-Century Caesarea,” JJS 25
(1974): 381–97.
50
Barrett, Acts (Vol. I), 498 (emphasis added).
51
Taylor, Actes 9,1-18,22, 42. If the adjective “importante” is translated in a numeric sense, Taylor’s point could even be the
same as Barrett’s.
52
Compare the descriptions in Hengel, “Luke the Historian,” 112, esp. n.91, and 114. Similarly, Roloff, Apostelgeschichte,
168: “überwiegend heidnisch”; Alfons Weiser, Kapitel 1-12, vol. 1 of Die Apostelgeschichte, Ökumenischer
Taschenbuchkommentar zum Neuen Testament 5/1, ed. Erich Gräßer and Karl Kertelge (Gütersloh: Gütersloher
Verlagshaus Gerd Mohn, 1981), 253: “das heidnische Cäsarea”; Pesch, Apostelgeschichte, 1:335; F. F. Bruce, The Acts of the
Apostles: The Greek Text with Introduction and Commentary, 3rd rev. ed. (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1990), 287: “as
a predominantly Gentile city it was not in ‘the land of the Jews’ ”; Dean Philip Bechard, “The Theological Significance
of Judaea in Luke-Acts,” in The Unity of Luke-Acts, ed. Joseph Verheyden, Bibliotheca ephemeridum theologicarum
lovaniensium 142 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1999), 687: a “fully Hellenized city” and 688: a “non-Jewish sphere
of Christian evangelism”; Dunn, Beginning from Jerusalem, 388: “its population and ethos were chiefly Gentile, and … it
had a sizeable Jewish population”; Keener, Acts, 1733: “Gentiles dominated the city.” By contrast, Kloppenborg, “Luke’s
Geography,” 118, simply refers to Caesarea as “culturally distinct.”
53
The scholarly description of Caesarea as “predominantly pagan” goes at least as far back as Emil Schürer, A History of
the Jewish People in the Time of Jesus Christ Div. 1: Political History of Palestine, from B.C. 175 to A.D. 135, trans. John
Macpherson, 2 vols. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1891), 1:439.
54
Hengel was not the first Acts commentator to uncritically accept Josephus’s description. See, e.g., the roughly
contemporaneous claim by Gottfried Schille, Die Apostelgeschichte des Lukas, Theologischer Handkommentar zum Neuen
Testament 5, ed. Erich Fascher, Joachim Rohde, and Christian Wolff (Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1983), 241: “Die
Einwohnerschaft bestand zum größeren Teil aus Heiden.”
55
Levine, “Jewish Community,” 268.
56
Irving M. Levey, “Caesarea and the Jews,” in Studies in the History of Caesarea Maritima, vol. 1 of The Joint Expedition
to Caesarea Maritima, ed. Charles T. Fritsch, Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Supplementary Studies
19, ed. David Noel Freedman (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1975), 43.
“from the city’s beginning, Jews constituted a significant part of its population, possibly over half …
After Jerusalem, Alexandria, Rome and perhaps Antioch, Caesarea may have contained the largest
Jewish population in the first century Empire.”57 Assuming Levine and Levey are correct, the impact of
Jewish life in ancient Caesarea was pronounced and would have extended far beyond the one possible
synagogue that has been excavated there to date.58 In time, though, this impact diminished drastically.
According to Josephus, following a massacre of Jewish inhabitants purportedly numbering over twenty
thousand by their fellow city-dwellers, Caesarea “was completely emptied of Jews” when Florus was
the Roman procurator, at his command (66 ce).59
Members of non-Jewish religious traditions also inhabited Caesarea in the first century. Greco-
Roman temples built by Herod to Roma and Augustus attracted a sizable contingent of participants
in the traditional cults to the city. The economic advantages of life in it, such as opportunities
for employment and trade, attracted people of all backgrounds from the surrounding regions
too.60 A mithraeum has been discovered in the city.61 In addition to the one associated with
the emperor and Mithras, evidence for the practice of many other cults there exists as well.62
According to Levine, “This unusual demographic configuration and the resultant dynamic
interplay of social and cultural forces set the stage for the particular character of late antique
society there.”63 As the movement within Judaism that generations if not centuries later became
recognizable as Christianity spread, beginning in the 30s ce, Caesarea emerged as a hotbed for
religious, ethnic, and political struggle that endured for nearly a millennium.64 The communities of
Christ-believers65 who inhabited the city over the first few centuries of the Common Era were
themselves not immune from such conflicts, an enduring reality that would seem to have been
prefigured by events described in Acts.66
57
Levine, Caesarea, 22. Note the roughly equivalent statement by Levey, “Caesarea and the Jews,” 43, only a year
prior: “[Jews] constitute a fairly large segment of the city’s population, possibly as much as one half of it.”
58
Govaars, Spiro, and White, Field O: The “Synagogue” Site.
59
Josephus, War 2.457 (Thackeray, LCL). On relations between Jews and gentiles in first-century ce Caesarea, see Wilson,
“Jew-Gentile Relations,” 83–8, which draws heavily on Josephus.
60
Holum et al., Herod’s Dream, 74.
61
Bull, Mithraeum at Caesarea Maritima.
62
For an analysis of cultic material culture at Caesarea, see Rivka Gersht, “Deities at the Services of Cities and People: Sculpted
Images from Caesarea Maritima,” in Expressions of Cult in the Southern Levant in the Greco-Roman Period: Manifestations
in Text and Material Culture, ed. Oren Tal and Zeev Weiss, Contextualizing the Sacred 6 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2017), 69–93.
63
Levine, “Jewish Community,” 268.
64
See, among others, the helpful essays on Greco-Roman, Jewish, and Christian religion, as well as ethnic and political
conflict, in Caesarea by R. Painter, M. Murray, R. Ascough, and J. Kloppenborg, respectively, which are collected in Terence
L. Donaldson, ed., Religious Rivalries and the Struggle for Success in Caesarea Maritima, Studies in Christianity and Judaism
8 (Waterloo, ON: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2000). For a thorough discussion of Christian and Muslim rule of
Caesarea in the later Byzantine and Crusader periods, see Holum et al., Herod’s Dream, 201–36.
65
To avoid anachronism, I use the label “Christ-believer,” not “Christian,” to refer to characters in Acts. Pervo, Acts, 294
n.46, argues that this concern is unwarranted (cf. Acts 11:26, 26:28).
66
On the history of early Christians in Caesarea, see Glanville Downey, “Caesarea and the Christian Church,” in Studies in
the History of Caesarea Maritima, vol. 1 of The Joint Expedition to Caesarea Maritima, ed. Glanville Downey, Bulletin of the
American Schools of Oriental Research Supplementary Studies 19, ed. David Noel Freedman (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press,
1975), 23–42; and Edgar Krentz, “Caesarea and Early Christianity,” in Caesarea Papers: Straton’s Tower, Herod’s Harbour,
and Roman and Byzantine Caesarea, ed. Robert Lindley Vann, Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplementary Series 5 (Ann
Arbor, MI: Journal of Roman Archaeology, 1992), 261–7.
4. CAESAREA’S SIGNIFICANCE IN ACTS: PREVIOUS PROPOSALS

Rote historical-criticism can fail to show how biblical texts and the geographies they present are,
as Philip Alexander has noted, essentially “exercises in cognitive mapping.”67 Acts is, of course,
quite different from the Geography of Strabo or that of Ptolemy. But Luke’s “mental map” or
“geographical horizon” is still fundamentally important, because it is part of what undergirds the
rhetorical points he is trying to make.68 Specifically, Caesarea as narrative setting performs a complex
role within the wider narrative that contributes to the persuasive potential of Acts.69 Numerous
exegetes and commentators have addressed this complex role, but to date no comparative analysis
of their proposals has appeared. This is a scholarly desideratum, since their suggestions diverge
in significant ways. Although more focused studies of the city within specific passages of Acts
do exist,70 the following discussion largely engages extended scholarly investigations of Caesarea
within the geography of Acts as a whole, proceeding in rough chronological order.
Perhaps the first to postulate a symbolic function of Caesarea in Acts was Hans Conzelmann.
In his enormously influential commentary, he made a pointed, provocative claim that, as far
as I know, was not developed elsewhere. Within a wider discussion of Cornelius’s name and
cohort, Conzelmann suggested in passing that “for Luke, Caesarea is the station midway between
Jerusalem and Antioch.”71 In other words, at least part of the city’s narrative function, maybe its
entire narrative function, is to point forward and to set up Paul’s subsequent ministry in Antioch
(11:19–26), thereby connecting it with what took place previously in Jerusalem.72 A few decades
later, Joseph Fitzmyer adopted this viewpoint. Following Conzelmann, he contended that “it is
not surprising that Luke chooses this important town as the site of the inauguration of the mission
to the Gentiles. It is the station midway between Jerusalem and Antioch in Syria.”73 Nearly half a
century after Conzelmann’s suggestion first appeared, Richard Pervo concurred, following him as
well.74 The “midway station” idea obviously has had much staying power.
Conzelmann’s engagement with Caesarea was brief. By contrast, Martin Hengel was, to my
knowledge, the first scholar to engage the city’s significance in Acts at length.75 He contended that it
67
Philip S. Alexander, “Geography and the Bible (Early Jewish),” in Anchor Bible Dictionary (Garden City, NY: Doubleday,
1992), 2.978. On what he terms the problem of “reductionistic outworkings of historicism” in scholarship on Acts, see
Sleeman, Geography, 30–6. The quote is from p. 36.
68
On the relationship(s) between implied author, mental map, reader, and rhetorical effect, see Alexander, Acts, 110.
69
Skinner, Locating Paul, 49–53, outlines the fivefold narrative functions of settings in Acts: they limit the number of
possible actions, inform mood, create archetypes and contrasts “based upon recognizable sociocultural understandings,”
develop oppositions with other settings, and anticipate new plot horizons. The quote is from p. 51.
70
See, e.g., Wilson, “Jew-Gentile Relations.”
71
Hans Conzelmann, Acts of the Apostles, ed. Eldon Jay Epp and Christopher R. Matthews, trans. James Limburg, A. Thomas
Kraabel, and Donald H. Juel, Hermeneia (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1987), 81. Conzelmann’s Hermeneia commentary
was based on the second German edition, but the statement was already present in the first: Die Apostelgeschichte, Handbuch
zum Neuen Testament 7 (Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck), 1963), 63.
72
A thoroughgoing criticism of Conzelmann’s historicist engagement with the geography of Luke-Acts is offered by Sleeman,
Geography, 30–3, who argues that it “illustrates the enduring hold of now out-of-date notions of geography within Lukan
studies” (33).
73
Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Acts of the Apostles: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, Anchor Bible 31
(Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1998), 448.
74
Pervo, Acts, 268. Pervo analogously describes Ptolemais in Acts 21:7 as “but a place on the road to Caesarea”; Acts,
535–36.
75
Hengel, “Luke the Historian,” esp. 110–21.
is an important locale for multiple reasons. First, it was the seat of Roman civil, political, and military
power in the region. Second, the city was home to the evangelist Philip and his daughters, which
enables Luke to distinguish him from early Christ-believing leaders and communities elsewhere
in Judea, including those based in Jerusalem (i.e., Peter and Paul). And, finally, and perhaps most
importantly, Caesarea’s harbor provided access to the wider Greco-Roman world; thus, for Hengel
Caesarea functions in Acts as a “gateway to the ecumene, i.e. to the ‘world mission.’ ”76 As a gateway,
it also serves as a boundary—in terms of both geography and history of mission—between what
he calls “ ‘Jewish’ Palestine” and “the ends of the earth.”77 C. K. Barrett subsequently staked out a
related view, particularly with reference to one of the most significant events to occur at Caesarea in
Acts, namely, the conversion of Cornelius. For Barrett, it represents “a notable step in the progress
of the Gospel into the non-Jewish world.”78 In a similar vein, Malina and Pilch repeatedly refer to
Caesarea as “at land’s end” in their commentary, construing it as an overt geographic, and perhaps
implicit missional, boundary marker, although they do not cite Hengel.79 A less strongly worded
reading is offered by Pervo. He contends that the account of Philip’s travels north from Azotus
to Caesarea in Acts 8:40 represents “a typical Lucan summary that serves to expand the range of
mission,” although, as Pervo later adds, “it stands outside the sequential development of the gentile
mission.”80
Luke Timothy Johnson has articulated a threefold description of geographical movement in
Acts that, although it does not explicitly engage Caesarea, can clearly accommodate the events
narrated there by Luke. Johnson suggests that movement is connected to (1) the gentile mission,
(2) the conquering of evil powers, and (3) the city of Jerusalem.81 A review of events narrated
in (or including reference to) Caesarea does not disconfirm this vision. First, the conversion of
Cornelius illustrates elements of the success of the gentile mission. Second, in the accounts of his
death in Caesarea and his persecution of Christ-believers that preceded it, Herod Agrippa is arguably
depicted as an evil power who ultimately was undone because he did not give glory to God. Third,
Caesarea is repeatedly connected with going up to or coming down from Jerusalem or its environs.82
In a presently unpublished but important conference paper, R. Jackson Painter argued that, much
as it does in Josephus, Caesarea functions “as the liminal intersection between the Jewish world
and the Gentile world” in Acts.83 This suggestion, although presumably not yet widely known,
76
Hengel, “Luke the Historian,” 114; similarly, Weiser, Apostelgeschichte (Kap. 1-12), 253, albeit without the notion of
“gateway.” Although he also does not use that language, Dunn, Beginning from Jerusalem, 388, suggests that because of the
harbor that Herod had built at Caesarea, “the possibility became immediately real of the message of the gospel being carried
across the Mediterranean.” Taylor, “Paul’s Caesarea,” 56, perceptively observes that the reverse is the case in Josephus, for
whom Caesarea serves as “the gateway to the eastern reaches of [Caesar’s] empire.”
77
Hengel, “Luke the Historian,” 117. Hengel’s historical distinction of missional targets depends on his classification
of Caesarea and its inhabitants as thoroughly non-Jewish, which, in light of research by Levine and others, is arguably
overstated, as discussed above; see also pp. 118–19.
78
C. K. Barrett, The Acts of the Apostles: A Shorter Commentary (London: T&T Clark, 2002), 152.
79
Malina and Pilch, Social-Science Commentary on the Book of Acts, 65, 74, 75, 86.
80
Pervo, Acts, 227.
81
Luke Timothy Johnson, The Acts of the Apostles, Sacra pagina 5 (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1992), 11.
82
Note the narrator’s descriptive use of ἀναβαίνειν (11:2; 18:22; 21:12, 15; 24:11; 25:1, 9), καταβαίνειν (24:1, 22; 25:6, 7),
and κατέρχεσθαι (12:19; 21:10) in reference to travel between Caesarea and Jerusalem. See also the implied descent from
Jerusalem in 9:30, which is briefly discussed by Taylor, “Paul’s Caesarea,” 46.
83
Painter, “East Meets West.” If the arguments by Pervo, Dating Acts, and others regarding the dependence of Acts upon
Josephus are judged to be persuasive, then it could be argued that the former’s depiction of Caesarea as intersection is
has already attracted scholarly support.84 Caesarea has previously been recognized as one node
in an effective communication network of “eastern Mediterranean cities and statelets”85 and as a
place of transregional human encounter and cultural exchange.86 But Painter’s suggestion arguably
represents a developed version of an idea also apparent in Hengel’s construal. Recall that for
Hengel in Acts Caesarea symbolizes a geographical and missional boundary. It would be at such an
imagined boundary that the intersection between Jewish and gentile worlds posited by Painter, or
the possibility of crossover from one to the other, would occur.
A fundamentally different interpretation of Caesarea within the symbolic geography of Acts is
offered by Daniel Marguerat. To be sure, his comment on Acts 8:40—“with Caesarea, symbolically
the Roman world is looming”—echoes Hengel’s boundary framing.87 Nevertheless, building upon
structuralist readings of Acts 10–11 by Roland Barthes and Louis Marin,88 Marguerat also develops
what he calls two spatial “lines of meaning” running through this portion of Acts: the horizontal
and the vertical.89 The horizontal line connects the cities of Joppa, Caesarea, and Jerusalem and the
human activities narrated within them; the vertical line connects earth and sky.90 Specifically, for
Marguerat the vertical line, presumably symbolizing connection with or revelation from the Divine
and perhaps even divine action itself, enables the possibility of “transgressing religious [i.e., Jewish]
regulation of human relationships.”91
As have some of the other interpretations of Caesarea in Acts, this idea has also received explicit
affirmation in subsequent scholarship.92 One version of it was worked out at some length by Ute
modeled upon that of the latter, but to my knowledge Painter does not make this claim; Taylor, “Paul’s Caesarea,” 66–7,
argues that the “discrepancies” between the two preclude any determination. For an extensive treatment of the broader
problem of influence, see Steve Mason, Josephus and the New Testament, 2nd ed. (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2003),
251–96.
84
Painter’s construal is explicitly affirmed by Keener, Acts, 1734 n.62.
85
Dunn, Acts, 166.
86
Levine, “Jewish Community,” 268, describes “Caesarea’s role as a bridge between the Roman and Judaean worlds”; cf.
Peter Richardson, Herod: King of the Jews and Friend of the Romans, Studies on Personalities of the New Testament, ed.
D. Moody Smith (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1996), 178: “[Caesarea] rearranged trade patterns in the
area. Produce, trade, and people flowed in both directions; it was a city where Hellenistic and Roman ideals jostled with
Jewish convictions.”
87
Marguerat, Actes (1-12), 313. Similarly, Bechard, “Theological Significance,” 687–8, suggests that “by explicitly locating
[the] first conversion of Gentiles in the city of Caesarea … Luke effectively signals that the Christian mission has now
reached the threshold of its last stage of expansion ‘to the end of the earth.’ ” Bechard’s contention might appear to overlook
that Acts concludes with Paul not at the “ends of the earth” but in what the Roman imperial imagination considered the
earth’s, or at least the purportedly civilized world’s, center. However, elsewhere Bechard rightly recognizes that in Acts Paul
ends up reaching “the very omphalos of the Roman Empire” (Paul Outside the Walls, 341).
88
Marguerat cites Roland Barthes, “L’analyse structurale du récit. A propos d’Actes 10-11,” in Exégèse et herméneutique, ed.
Xavier Léon-Dufour, Parole de Dieu (Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1971), 191–6; and Louis Marin, “Essai d’analyse structurale
d’Actes 10,1-11,18,” in Exégèse et herméneutique, ed. Xavier Léon-Dufour, Parole de Dieu (Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1971),
228–37. Both essays were reprints of articles in RSR.
89
Marguerat, Actes (1-12), 371–2.
90
A fuller and somewhat different explication of these two lines was previously published in Daniel Marguerat and Yvan
Bourquin, How to Read Bible Stories: An Introduction to Narrative Criticism, trans. John Bowden (London: SCM Press,
1999), 80–1.
91
92
David G. Peterson, The Acts of the Apostles, ed. D. A. Carson, Pillar New Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids,
MI: Eerdmans, 2009), 324. Peterson quotes Marguerat and Bourquin, How to Read Bible Stories, 81, at length but not
Marguerat’s commentary.
E. Eisen prior to the appearance of Marguerat’s commentary.93 Eisen similarly refers to “two
striking axes, vertical and horizontal.”94 As did Hengel, Eisen also reads Caesarea as a boundary
marker in Acts, but she develops the idea in a creatively different manner.95 Eisen argues that “the
depicted world [of ch. 10-11] is divided into the space of the Jews, the Jews who believe in Christ
in Joppa and Jerusalem, and the (different) Gentiles in Caesarea and in the house of Cornelius.”96
She differentiates between “the Jewish initial space” of Joppa and “the counterspace of [Gentile]
Caesarea,” which in her view is presented in Acts purportedly “in accordance with the geographical
and geopolitical order.”97 On Eisen’s reading, the Jewish-gentile boundary that is Caesarea can be
focused further: Cornelius’s house is what she terms the city’s “extreme point.”98 In Acts 10:27,
Peter somehow crosses this “impermeable boundary” at Caesarea, violating what Eisen labels a
“rigid norm” presumably against Jews visiting or even associating with gentiles, as is claimed by
Peter’s statement in v. 28.99
Most recently, Joan Taylor has persuasively demonstrated that one of the key characteristics of
Caesarea (i.e., “Caesar’s City”) in Acts as in antiquity is what she terms “performing Rome.”100
According to Taylor, within Luke’s narrative at Caesarea “we are in a locus of Romanitas, ‘Roman-
ness,’ ” that spans imperial ideology and law.101 This notion of Romanitas connects back with the
ancient city’s built environment. Taylor fruitfully surveys the results of archaeological excavations
that, she argues, have uncovered “a city performing Rome in its physical structures and spaces …
[that] coheres perfectly with the representation of the city in the narrative of Acts.”102 Caesarea has
other, somewhat less significant, functions too. For Luke it serves as a “transit city” when people,
particularly Paul, pass through it.103 For the apostle it becomes “a city of detention … at the heart
93
Ute E. Eisen, “Boundary Transgression and the Extreme Point in Acts 10:1-11:18,” in On the Cutting Edge: The Study of
Women in Biblical Worlds: Essays in Honor of Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, ed. Jane Schaberg, Alice Bach, and Esther Fuchs
(New York: Continuum, 2004), 154–70, esp. 160–6.
94
Eisen, “Boundary Transgression,” 161. See also the references to the horizontal and/or vertical axes on pp. 164, 165, and
169 n.25.
95
Eisen cites Marguerat and Bourquin, How to Read Bible Stories, 80 on p. 169 n.17, but does not otherwise explicitly
engage Marguerat’s work in her essay.
96
Eisen, “Boundary Transgression,” 162.
97
Ibid.
98
Ibid.
99
The two brief quotations are drawn from Eisen, “Boundary Transgression,” 162 and 163, respectively. As support for
this “rigid norm,” Eisen cites 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, and Matthew Black, rev. ed., 4 vols. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1973); and Martin Hengel,
Judaism and Hellenism: Studies in Their Encounter in Palestine During the Early Hellenistic Period, trans. John Bowden
(Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1974). The “rigid norm” may well be constructed on the narrative level in this part of Acts,
but it does not seem to have been historical, at least according to Pervo, Acts, 274: “There was no specific commandment
against [social] intercourse with gentiles. Observance of purity codes prevented the strictly observant from such activities as
eating in gentile homes.” Moreover, Pervo notes, “The verbs κολλάω and προσέρχομαι (‘associate intimately with’ and ‘visit’)
are those used, in the opposite order, in 8:29 (direction for Philip to approach official)” (Acts, 274 n.106). In other words,
the use of the same language within the wider text of Acts itself would seem to challenge Eisen’s reading of Cornelius’s house
as “extreme point” and “impermeable boundary.”
100
Taylor, “Paul’s Caesarea.” References to Caesarea’s performative function are found throughout, but see esp. pp. 46, 47
n.12, 48, 66–7. The reference to Caesarea as “Caesar’s City” appears in p. 45.
101
Taylor, “Paul’s Caesarea,” 48; similarly, see pp. 54, 67.
102
Ibid., 67.
103
Ibid., 46, 48, 50, 52, 67. See esp. p. 47: “All roads lead to Caesarea.”
of Roman civil and military administration.”104 And it is a “locus of divine action,” particularly
apparent in the death of Herod Agrippa, and of the holy spirit more broadly.105 Interestingly,
there are faint echoes of Conzelmann in Taylor’s description, although she does not appeal to
him: Conzelmann thought Caesarea pointed forward to Antioch, but for Taylor “[Caesarea] points
forward to the activity of the Holy Spirit continuing to move Paul to Rome.”106 Perhaps more than
any other to date, Taylor’s wide-ranging essay illuminates the centrality of Caesarea to the book of
Acts and the manifold ways that Luke has woven the city into his narrative.
Despite scholarly support for the midway station hypothesis, in Acts the city of Caesarea does
not function simply as a preliminary setting for events leading up to the ministry of Barnabas and
Paul among the first “Christians” at Antioch (11:26). So many other important things happen in
Herod’s city by the sea, particularly in the last third of the book, that one cannot convincingly
argue that the city’s sole function in Acts is to point forward to another one further north. Likewise,
Hengel’s classification of Caesarea as a thoroughly “pagan” city led him and those influenced by
him to overly emphasize its significance as a geographical and sociological boundary marker in Acts.
As we have already seen, Caesarea’s population in the first century may actually have been more
Jewish than gentile, despite what commentators routinely suggest.107 This complicates simplistic
mappings of Jewish-gentile difference onto the city and its inhabitants. Despite its accuracy, even
the Caesarea-as-intersection hypothesis is not fully illustrative. As I shall explain, Luke aims not
simply to show that, from the perspective of those who inhabit the province, Caesarea is situated
at the beginning of the geographic end of the world to the west. The reverse is true too: in Acts,
Caesarea symbolically connects the ends of the world and the communities of Christ-believers
scattered around them with each other and with the significance of what happens in the city, largely
via Paul’s movement through it. This idea develops Taylor’s recognition of Caesarea as a “transit
city” by explaining how and to what effects the city serves as a literary linking device in Acts.
5. CAESAREA AS LITERARY LINKING DEVICE IN ACTS

Largely missing from scholarly considerations of Caesarea in Acts is the recognition that Christ-
believers go from, travel to, live and are active in, and pass through the city with regularity. Taylor’s
description of Caesarea as a “transit city” in Luke’s narrative is a commendable exception to this
unfortunate pattern. In what follows, I briefly develop Taylor’s important observation by exploring
the rhetorical and theological effects of Caesarea being a transit city, particularly in the case of Paul,
upon readers of Acts.
As we have seen, Caesarea plays an important role in Paul’s missionary activity. Three of his four
major, extended sea voyages in Acts begin or end in Caesarea. Only his first missionary journey
104
105
Ibid., 49.
106
Ibid., 48. A similar but more generalized description of Paul’s geographic movement from one city to another and
ultimately to Rome is given by Keener, Acts, 589. For Keener’s fuller treatment of geography in Acts, which does not focus
on Caesarea, see pp. 582–96.
107
Although he does not explicitly reference Caesarea, in discussing Acts 8:26–40 Walter Schmithals, Die Apostelgeschichte
des Lukas, Zürcher Bibelkommentare NT 3,2, ed. Hans Heinrich Schmid and Siegfried Schulz (Zürich: Theologischer
Verlag, 1982), 86, argues that “Lukas hält Palästina einschließlich Samariens anscheinend für ein zur Zeit der Apostel im
wesentlichen jüdisches Gebiet.”
does not pass through it: strictly speaking, Paul’s first journey begins and ends at Antioch (13:4–
14:28). Crucially, though, prior to arriving there from Tarsus in 11:26, Paul departs from Caesarea
to Tarsus itself in 9:30. Although somewhat removed from Paul’s flight out of Caesarea on the
narrative level, within the unfolding drama of Acts Paul’s presence in and departure from Antioch
on his first missionary journey depend upon his relatively recently having passed through Caesar’s
city. That first journey is therefore implicitly connected with it as well. On a basic level, then,
Hengel’s contention that Caesarea functions in Acts as a “gateway to the ecumene” is accurate.
Luke does describe how what began as a movement within first-century Judaism goes forth from
Jerusalem and encounters the “ends of the earth” (1:8), very often through the port at Caesarea.
But what Hengel did not observe is equally if not more important. Just as believers go out through
Caesarea, so too they frequently return through the same city.
Beverly Roberts Gaventa has observed how Luke’s account of Paul’s travels connects the
communities of believers scattered around the Mediterranean. With particular reference to Paul’s
third journey, she argues that in crafting his narrative Luke “knit[s]‌the disparate communities
together.”108 Marguerat has made a similar point on an historical level: among Paul’s other
goals in traveling was his aim “to maintain unity in a Christianity that was already diverse.”109
If that historical explanation is accepted, then, following Gaventa, it would seem subsequently
reflected in the text of Acts.110 I argue that Luke accomplishes this narrative feat of constructed
unity among Christ-believers in significant part via the use of Caesarea as linking device.111 Put
differently, Gaventa’s proposal regarding the unifying narrative function of Paul’s third journey can
be extended to include at least his second one as well, because both end in the same place;112 his first
journey is implicitly in view too, as discussed above. By concluding the second and third missionary
journeys—each of which begins in a different location (Jerusalem and Antioch, respectively) and
includes visits to different places—in Caesarea Luke links Paul’s travels together and by extension,
following Gaventa, links the communities through which Paul traveled on them together as well.113
This is the first of two ways that Caesarea functions as linking device in Acts: it symbolically connects
Christ-followers around the Mediterranean with each other.114 Paul’s travels through Caesarea also
108
Beverly Roberts Gaventa, “Theology and Ecclesiology in the Miletus Speech: Reflections on Content and Context,” NTS
50 (2004): 42.
109
Marguerat, Actes (13-28), 182: “Paul, en pasteur exemplaire, visite ses communautés pour consolider la foi, cultiver les
liens et maintenir l’unité dans une chrétienté déjà diverse.”
110
Hemer, Book of Acts, 257, makes a similar point in connection with Paul’s journey from Corinth to Ephesus to Jerusalem
through Caesarea in Acts 18:18–22, which Hemer suggests is evidence of his being “deeply concerned with preserving the
unity of Jewish and Gentile congregations.”
111
The significance of Caesarea in relation to Paul’s various journeys is anticipated, although not explored, by Keener,
Acts, 2794.
112
Granted, Paul’s arrival in Caesarea at the end of his second journey is immediately followed by his ascent to Jerusalem
(18:22); he does not remain in Caesarea for a time, as he will at the end of his third journey (21:8–14). However, the point is
clear: the narrative explicitly describes how, at the conclusion of two of his three major journeys in Acts, Paul passes through
Caesarea.
113
There is significant overlap among the cities visited by Paul on his second and third journeys. According to Acts, the
following were visited on journeys that ended in Caesarea: Antioch, Beroea, Corinth, Derbe, Ephesus, Philippi, Thessalonica,
and Troas.
114
Kloppenborg, “Luke’s Geography,” 139, concludes that “Luke’s representation of space stresses connectivity,” although
without mentioning Caesarea. Shortly thereafter Kloppenborg adds, “Luke’s ‘map’ renders credible through its very realism
and transparency the notion of an interconnected, harmonious, and translocal church” (140).
connect audiences in geographically (but not symbolically) disconnected communities of believers

to both the events that Luke narrates in the city and their significance. What significant events and
ideas, then, would Caesarea symbolically connect believers to?
First, Caesarea as linking device connects readers of Acts with the activity of God’s spirit in relation
to Cornelius, his relatives, and his closest friends (10:24). His is the first explicit description of a gentile
conversion in Acts. Without debating Caesarea as the historical location of the Cornelius event,115 it
clearly is a “turning point” in the narrative,116 even though the religious demographics of the ancient
city should not be inferred from it, as seems to have happened in scholarship on Acts. It demonstrates
the initial fulfillment of God’s promise to Jews and to all who are far off (2:39), a promise first expressed
by Peter in Jerusalem at Pentecost. And it signals to readers that, just as the spirit-led Jesus movement
radiated from Jerusalem to Caesarea and throughout the province and region, so too that same spirit
will ripple out to wherever they are, falling upon people of all sorts and backgrounds, drawing them in.
Second, scattered as they may be, Caesarea links Luke’s readers with Jerusalem and the
Jesus movement’s historic roots in Jewish experience there. This linkage is established by
Philip’s “going down” from the city of David in 8:5 and ultimately arriving at Caesarea in 8:40
following his missionary activity at places between. It is also established by Paul’s “going up” to
Jerusalem from Caesarea in 18:22. I stress that these are narrative observations, not historical
claims. The latter journey to Jerusalem in particular has frequently been explained away in the
scholarly literature as historically accidental117 or embarrassingly unavoidable.118 It is sometimes
disconnected from Caesarea altogether,119 labeled an awkward accommodation to underlying
tradition,120 and rejected as historically improbable.121 Such hypotheses risk overlooking how
Paul’s trip up to Jerusalem coheres with a wider Lukan pattern of depicting the apostle frequently
returning to historically and pastorally significant places.122 Even if Paul’s ascent is purely “a Lucan
contribution to the narrative,”123 by passing through Caesarea on the way its symbolic effect is to
more closely link believers around the Mediterranean with the community of Christ-followers
at Jerusalem. That connective symbolism and implied solidarity resonate with the purpose of
115
For a discussion of the possibility that Caesarea is not the “original” setting for this story, see Pervo, Acts, 266.
116
117
For example, commenting upon the journey that reaches land at Caesarea in Acts 18:22, Jervell, Apostelgeschichte, 467,
offers wind conditions as a tentative explanation. This suggestion has been influential (see, e.g., Bruce, Acts, 399). In support
of his hypothesis, Jervell cites Haenchen, Apostelgeschichte, 525; and Roloff, Apostelgeschichte, 276. The latter is explicitly
affirmed by Pesch, Apostelgeschichte, 2:156. A good overview of the various historical and redactional hypotheses is given by
Alfons Weiser, Kapitel 13-28, vol. 2 of Die Apostelgeschichte, Ökumenischer Taschenbuchkommentar zum Neuen Testament
5/2, ed. Erich Gräßer and Karl Kertelge (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus Gerd Mohn, 1985), 500–3.
118
Dunn, Acts, 247.
119
Johannes Munck, The Acts of the Apostles: Introduction, Translation and Notes, Anchor Bible 31 (Garden City,
NY: Doubleday, 1967), 181: “The goal of [Paul’s] journey was Caesarea in Palestine though in all likelihood it actually was
the Jerusalem church—but nothing is said at this point about the purpose of this visit.”
120
Gerd Lüdemann, Early Christianity According to the Traditions in Acts: A Commentary, trans. John Bowden (London: SCM,
1989), 206.
121
While recognizing the danger of “historiciz[ing] the problem to the neglect of the literary character of the account,”
Conzelmann, Acts, 156, nevertheless implicitly rejects the Jerusalem journey in Acts 18:22 as historically improbable; the
quote is from n.6.
122
Marguerat, Actes (13-28), 182 n.15. Marguerat’s reading challenges the claim by Dunn, Acts, 248, that Paul’s trip up to
and short visit in Jerusalem (18:22) is, like his subsequent one to Antioch (18:23), “of little importance” to Luke.
123
Pervo, Acts, 455.
the collection for the saints there stated by Paul in his letters, even though it lacks an economic
dimension.124
Finally, the account of Paul on trial at Caesarea connects readers with the gospel’s public
proclamation to and confrontation of powerful people in the Roman empire.125 This is one of the
many ways that the narrative map of Acts “remains firmly rooted in the contemporary political
world.”126 At Caesarea, Paul presents a cogent defense of his Jewish heritage and faithfulness, as
well as his calling and ministry to gentiles. But the Caesarean judicial scenes provide much more
than a justification of Paul’s background, piety, and embrace of his (supposedly God-given) gentile
mission. As Matthew Skinner notes, “Paul’s custody settings reflect the triumph … of the gospel
and of Paul’s vocation over the most concentrated attempts of his enemies to squelch and discredit
him.”127 In this way, the narrative accounts of Paul on trial before the authorities in Caesarea focus
not on what Paul has done (or on what Paul must argue in order to be acquitted) per se. Rather,
they focus on what God’s spirit is doing and has done through those who bear faithful witness
to Jesus in the face of authoritative earthly opponents.128 Alongside Taylor’s recognition of how
Caesarea performs Rome in Acts we might add that so too at Caesarea God is active against that
imperial performance in the specific activities of Peter, Paul, and others. Paul’s witness in particular
also serves a hortatory function, encouraging readers of Acts to make their own witness, regardless
of the rank of those who hear it.129 In doing so, they can be confident that their actions, like Paul’s
in Acts, will not be considered a legal or political liability, nor will their mission be hampered by
human activity in the end;130 the death of Herod Agrippa offers proof of that. Moreover, Paul’s
final speech before Agrippa (26:1–23) at Caesarea serves as “a virtual synopsis of Lukan theology,”
as Gaventa has shown, performing a didactic function for readers.131 Although Paul ultimately does
not defend himself while giving that particular speech, in it his “defense becomes an occasion for
proclamation of the gospel,” which serves as yet another model for—and encouragement to—
audience of Acts.132 In other words, the constructed ideal content and confidence of the collective
124
Gal 2:10; 1 Cor 16:1–4; 2 Cor 8:1–9:15; Rom 15:25–29; cf. Acts 11:29–30, 24:17.
125
Skinner, Locating Paul, 132, explains Paul’s contact with powerful players on the world stage while in custody: “this new
gentile setting in Caesarea allows Paul to meet and interact with more powerful political figures from the gentile world”;
similarly, pp. 137, 144–5, 149, 186. Note also Skinner’s linking of Peter’s proclamation to Cornelius and Paul’s defense
before Felix and Festus (132 n.54).
126
Alexander, Acts, 111. Alexander suggests these political roots are revealed, in part, by the inclusion in Acts of older Greek
designations for political regions that remained in use during the Roman period (111). More specifically, Skinner, Locating
Paul, 6, argues that the settings of custody in chs. 21–8 “reveal the implicit and subtle, yet very real, challenges that the
gospel movement poses to the most concentrated attempts to thwart its influence in society and, indeed, also to the Roman
political order itself.”
127
Skinner, Locating Paul, 109.
128
Citing the work of Robert C. Tannehill, Skinner offers a similar reading: “These events of Paul’s custody thus accomplish
more than offering Paul a forum for self-defense or for apologies to distinctively Jewish concerns (although they do this,
too). They illustrate the presentation and relevance of the gospel to and for the Roman world, represented by those who
control it”; Locating Paul, 138; cf. Tannehill, The Narrative Unity of Luke-Acts: A Literary Interpretation (Philadelphia,
PA: Fortress Press, 1994), 2:301. Essentially, according to Skinner, these contexts “provide points of contact between the
power of the gospel and the powers of the religious and political spheres depicted in Acts” (186).
129
Tannehill, Narrative Unity, 2:302.
130
Dunn, Acts, xiii; similarly, Dunn, Beginning from Jerusalem, 82 and n.114.
131
Beverly Roberts Gaventa, The Acts of the Apostles, Abingdon New Testament Commentaries (Nashville, TN: Abingdon
Press, 2003), 347.
132
Gaventa, Acts, 348.
defense of the faith come to Luke’s audience via Paul at Caesarea, with which they are symbolically
linked by Paul’s travels through the city and around the Mediterranean. According to Acts, though,
Paul’s proclamation and witness to power will not be limited to those in Caesarea, just as it was not
limited to those in Jerusalem before that.133 Paul famously appeals to the emperor (25:10–11), and
so Luke’s previous narrative hints regarding Paul’s future travel to Rome are now developed in full
(cf. 19:21; 23:11).134 Paul will transit the seaport at Caesarea, as he has so often done before, and
through him the gospel will presumably confront another powerful audience, namely the emperor
himself. By implication, like Herod Agrippa I before him, the emperor will also be challenged to
open his eyes, to turn from darkness to light, from the authority of Satan to God (26:18). In the
connective logic of Acts, so too will all those whom the audience engages, for in the symbol of
Caesarea they are linked to the spirit’s prior activity and the confirmation of what God is doing and
will continue to do, in their corner of the world and beyond.
6. CONCLUSION
The city of Caesarea exhibits a twofold function in the book of Acts. It serves as an important
narrative setting that reflects the ancient city’s diverse demography and history, particularly as a
seaport, crucible and projector of imperial power, and place of human encounter both local and
regional. In association with Paul’s travels through the city and around the Mediterranean, Caesarea
also serves as a literary linking device. It symbolically connects scattered communities of Christ-
believers, as well as the book’s readers, with each other, with Jerusalem, and with the significance
of events narrated in Caesarea itself, thereby accomplishing both a hortatory and didactic purpose.
Clearly, Caesarea is of central importance to the symbolic geography of Acts, indeed in new and
remarkable ways.
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134
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Haenchen, Ernst. Die Apostelgeschichte. 7th ed. Kritisch-exegetischer Kommentar über das Neue Testament
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Holum, Kenneth G., Robert L. Hohlfelder, Robert L. Vann, and Roberta Blender Maltese, eds. King Herod’s
Dream: Caesarea on the Sea. New York: Norton, 1988.
Holum, Kenneth G., Avner Raban, and J. Patrich. Caesarea Papers 2: Herod’s Temple, the Provincial Governor’s
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Klauck, Hans-Josef. “Des Kaisers schöne Stimme: Herrscherkritik in Apg 12,20-23.” Pages 251–67 in Religion
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Levey, Irving M. “Caesarea and the Jews.” Pages 43–78 in Studies in the History of Caesarea Maritima. Vol.
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Levine, Lee I. “The Jewish Community at Caesarea in Late Antiquity.” Pages 268–73 in Caesarea Papers: Straton’s
Tower, Herod’s Harbour, and Roman and Byzantine Caesarea. Edited by Robert Lindley Vann. Journal of
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Hildegard Temporini and Wolfgang Haase. Part 2, Principat, 8. Berlin: Gruyter, 1977.
Lüdemann, Gerd. Early Christianity According to the Traditions in Acts: A Commentary. Translated by John
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Malina, Bruce J., and John J. Pilch. Social-Science Commentary on the Book of Acts. Philadelphia,
PA: Fortress, 2008.
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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Metatron and Naar: Combining

Titles and Revelation 3:21 as a
Probable Riddle-Solver
KONSTANTINOS TH. ZARRAS
Over the years there has been a lot of discussion on the etymology of the name Metatron
and its possible meanings. Given that the specific celestial entity refers to a once upon a time
human, the antediluvian patriarch Enoch, who was transferred to heaven, where his spectacular
metamorphosis and enthronement took place, and the phenomenon of “Enochic Judaism,” the
issue is very important. Actually, except for Jesus Christ, Enoch/Metatron is the only human who
received such a high status,1 almost godlike, and who was even named as a god. The description of
his metamorphosis and his investment with angelic (even divine) qualities has no equal in relevant
or parallel literature. Of course, as is known, in antiquity a name meant a lot more than it does in
our days, especially when it referred to a heavenly being and/or to complex traditions and rituals.
Contra Scholem’s thesis, who disregarded the probability without delving into it,2 this brief
essay aims to show that this name is but a title and a composite term, coming from a synthesis of
the Greek words μετά- and θρόνος. It is quite probable that the relevant entity was born from the
“marriage” of earlier Adamic and Enochic material in circulation during the Second Temple period
and even later. It is equally probable that Christian material on the person of Jesus Christ played a
role in the formation of Metatron’s final composite identity as a kind of an “answer” from Jewish
mystical circles to the claimed divinity of the Galilean master. Needless to say, we are deeply aware
that certainty is but a rarity on these perilous grounds, so any steps should be taken with caution.
Due to the brevity of this essay, all previous scholarship on this issue has to be taken for granted.
Andrei Orlov, among others, has done excellent work here and he has actually brought it back to
the fore after Gershom G. Scholem,3 Saul Lieberman,4 Philip Alexander,5 Guy Stroumsa,6 Daniel
1
Of course, in other apocalyptic and mystical texts other heroes of the distant past share similar characteristics, yet the
Enoch/Metatron case is unique in many of its aspects.
2
See Gershom G. Scholem, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism, 3rd ed. (New York: Schocken, 1995 [1st ed. 1941]), 69–70.
3
See previous note.
4
Saul Lieberman, “Metatron, The Meaning of His Name and His Functions,” Appendix 1 in Apocalyptic and Merkavah
Mysticism, by I. Gruenwald, 2nd ed. (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 291–7.
5
Philip Alexander, “3 (Hebrew Apocalypse of) Enoch,” in Apocalyptic Literature and Testaments, vol. 1 of The Old Testament
Pseudepigrapha, ed. J. H. Charlesworth (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1983), 223–315.
6
Guy G. Stroumsa, “Form(s) of God: Some Notes on Meṭaṭron and Christ: For Shlomo Pines,” HTR 76 (1983): 269–88.
Boyarin,7 and many others. Therefore, for the reader who wants to see a good presentation of
the research so far, we have to refer to Orlov’s The Enoch-Metatron Tradition and the detailed
parenthesis there.8 It is only a few elements we should be touching upon here for serving both
justice and our purpose.
As is known, the name Metatron is found written mostly in two ways, with six letters (‫)מטטרון‬,
with seven letters (‫)מיטטרון‬, and even with twenty-four (in Siddur Rabbah 24–26). Initially, it was
J. Fr. von Meyer in his Blätter für höhere Wahrheit (vol. iv, 1823) who interpreted “Metatron as ‘der
Mitthroner Gottes’ (ὁ μέτοχος τοῦ θρόνου) who is seated at the right hand of God.” In our view,
von Meyer’s thesis,9 that “the Jewish conception of Metatron forms an exact counterpart of the
Christian conception of the Son of God,” thus pointing to Rev 3:21 “as a parallel,”10 deserves closer
attention and merit, especially when seen together with the other data we present here. Thus, while
adding source information concerning this hypothesis, our effort aims to call for more attention to
this approach and for a reconsideration of all the relevant material.11
Based on the well-known throne incident with Elisha ben Avuyah and Metatron’s proximity to
God, both central aspects of the Metatronology, as well as on other facets of his persona, from all
of the probable solutions to the etymology of his name, the one from the Greek we find the most
likely. Other options (discussed in another paragraph here) seem improbable or utterly impossible.
Now, if there were a Greek term like μετάθρονος or μεταθρόνιος, what would it mean? That would
be a composite word from the preposition μετά and the noun θρόνος12 and it would mean the one
who comes with the throne, or the one who comes next to the throne, or the one who sits either
on the same throne or on a throne that lies next to this one. Therefore, μεταθρόνιος or μετάθρονος
is very similar and very close to σύνθρονος.
As is widely accepted, while ties and relations may run deeper, almost all of Judaism during
and—mostly—after the Hellenistic period is a more or less Hellenized Judaism. Even more, with
an unprecedented religious and cultural syncretism and the Greek koine as the lingua franca of
many peoples around the Mediterranean at that time, language loans and constructs were not the
exception but rather the norm. Thence, before introducing the core of this protasis, it is essential
to present some of the material concerning the wide use of this term (concept and image, too)
in Greek sources. According to the lexicographer Hesychius, σύνθρονος is the one who sits on
the same throne, sometimes also called πάρεδρον, παρακαθήμενον, and παραμένον.13 In a wider
scope, σύνθρονος means the one who shares the same throne or the one who shares the same
characteristic of being enthroned. Numerous kings, heroes, and/or gods are mentioned as being
σύνθρονοι.
7
Daniel Boyarin, “Beyond Judaisms: Meṭaṭron and the Divine Polymorphy of Ancient Judaism,” JSJ 41 (2010): 323–65.
8
See especially Andrei Orlov, The Enoch-Metatron Tradition, TSAJ 107 (Tübingen: Möhr Siebeck, 2005), esp. see the
chapter “The etymology of the name ‘Metatron’.”
9
Similarly, by Stroumsa, “Form(s) of God”; also, Peter Schäfer, The Origins of Jewish Mysticism (Tübingen: Möhr
Siebeck, 2009).
10
Hugo Odeberg, 3 Enoch or the Hebrew Book of Enoch (London: Cambridge University Press, 1928), 136.
11
Here I would like to extend my thanks to Professor of Linguistics Georgios Babiniotis for sharing useful information on
some ancient Greek terms and to Rabbi Gabriel Negrin on some of the material in Hebrew.
12
Notice that a term like μετάφρενον is also found. See Deut 32:11, where God, like an eagle, carries Israel, ἐπὶ τῶν
μεταφρένων αὐτοῦ (LXX; also, in Ps 90:4 and Isa 51:23 with another meaning).
13
Hesychius Lexicographer, Lexicon (Π-Ω), entry 756.1.
Metatron and Naar 283
Concerning Alexander the Great, it is asked if he could be σύνθρονος to Zeus, and his wife, Roxanne,
is referred to as σύνθρονος to her husband, ἐγράψαμεν δὲ τῷ Περσῶν ἔθνει, ὅπως ἐρωτήσωσι τοὺς ἐν
Περσίδι θεούς σε συνθρονισθῆναι τῷ Διὶ καὶ προσκυνεῖσθαι. Ῥωξάνην δέ, ἣν ἔκρινας σύνθρονον εἶναί σοι.14
The Persian king Darius is also mentioned as being a “god” who is σύνθρονος to “Mithras” and rising
together with the “sun,” σύνθρονός τε θεῷ Μίθρᾳ καὶ συνανατέλλων ἡλίῳ, ἐγὼ αὐτὸς θεὸς Δαρεῖος.15
Alexander’s father, Philip, had his statue honored like he was σύνθρονος to Zeus, too.16 In the Orphic
hymns god Pan is sitting on the same throne with the Hours (σύνθρονε Ὥραις).17 Still, in a commentary
to Hesiodean material, Zeus is called “son of god” (υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ) and he is referred to as ὁμοούσιον
καὶ σύνθρονον (of the same essence and cothroned) to his father, god Κρόνος.18 It is also interesting that
in another text19 god Hephaestus, Hercules, and a hero are mentioned as sitting on the same throne,20
and elsewhere a hero sits on the same throne with Apollo (σύνθρονος Ἀπόλλωνι).21
To the Jewish philosopher Philo, as for the philosopher Chrysippus,22 too, “virtues” are
σύνθρονοι.23 Clement of Alexandria in his Stromata refers to “gods” as being σύνθρονοι to “other
gods,” καὶ θεοὶ τὴν προσηγορίαν κέκληνται, οἱ σύνθρονοι τῶν ἄλλων θεῶν, τῶν ὑπὸ τῷ σωτῆρι πρώτων
τεταγμένων, γενησόμενοι.24 The emperor Julianus, in his Hymn to the mother of gods, hails her as
sitting on the same throne with Zeus (Ὦ θεῶν καὶ ἀνθρώπων Μῆτερ, ὦ τοῦ μεγάλου Σύνθωκε καὶ
Σύνθρονε Διός, ὦ Πηγὴ τῶν νοερῶν θεῶν).25 And of course, Athanasius the Theologian writes about
14
Historia Alexandri Magni: Recensio α sive Recensio vetusta 2.22.10. Elsewhere, the Persian king Darius is mentioned
as sitting on the same throne with gods (see Historia Alexandri Magni: Recensio α sive Recensio vetusta 1.38.3.3); for
Roxanne, see also 2.22.3 and 9. References to the above-mentioned are to be found in almost all recensions. Other
references to women, a goddess Artemis and the mortal Semele, are found sitting on the throne in Nonnus, Dionysiaca
8.415. Elsewhere, it is Nature that is σύνθρονος to man (see Photius, Bibliotheca Codex 277, Bekker page 517b.24) or even
“violence” (βία) as σύνθρονος to Zeus (see Moschion, Fragment 6.15); also, in Joannes Stobaeus, Anthologium 1.8.38.16.
Elsewhere (Origen, Contra Celsum 3.50.13[19]), “piety” has other “virtues” as συνθρόνους. Interestingly enough, to
John Chrysostom, Love is σύνθρονος to God (Ἀγάπη τοῦ Πατρὸς σύνθρονός ἐστιν, Caritatem secundum deum rem esse deo
dignam [Sp.], 61.681, l. 8).
15
Historia Alexandri Magni: Recensio α sive Recensio vetusta 1.36.2.3. Also, Historia Alexandri Magni: Recensio β
2.16.42–43 (θεῶν σύνθρονος) and 16.64. Still, Historia Alexandri Magni: Recensio Byzantina poetica (cod. Marcianus
408), line 3663. Historia Alexandri Magni: Recensio poetica (recensio R), ll 697, 736, and 1238. Also, συνθρόνῳ ἡλίου
θεοῦ μεγίστου Historia Alexandri Magni: Recensio α sive Recensio vetusta 1.38.2.2. Of course, this θεός μέγιστος is none
other than Mithras (Ἡλίῳ Μίθρᾳ, in Historia Alexandri Magni: Recensio Byzantina poetica, cod. Marcianus 408, ll.
1809–11).
16
See Diodorus Siculus, Bibliotheca historica (lib. 1–20) 16.92.5.10.
17
Orphica, Hymn 11.4.
18
Joannes Galenus, Allegoriae in Hesiodi theogoniam, 342.26 and 31.
19
See σύνθρονον in Lucianus, De morte Peregrini 29.9. Also, Anthologiae Graecae Appendix: Oracula, Epigram 297.5.
20
For mortals sitting on the same throne, see Salaminius Hermias Sozomenus, Historia ecclesiastica 7.3.1.3. Also, Socrates
Scholasticus, Historia ecclesiastica 5.5.8. Sextus Julius Africanus, Epistula ad Origenem, 80, l. 1. Georgius Syncellus, Ecloga
chronographica, 274, l. 25. Michael Glycas, Annales 611, l. 3. Pseudo-Codinus, De officiis (e codd Vat. gr. 162 + 975) 134,
l. 25 (ἰσοστάσιον καὶ σύνθρονον τῷ καίσαρι). Testamenta xii patriarcharum: Testamentum 3.13.9.1. For the expression σ[ύ]
νθρονος ἡρώων εἵν[ε]κα σωφροσ[ύ]ν[η]ς, meaning that sitting on a throne with heroes has been won due to wisdom, see
Anthologiae Graecae Appendix: Epigrammata sepulcralia, Epigram 208.5.
21
Nonnus, Dionysiaca 48.978. For other instances, see Lieberman, “Metatron,” 291–3.
22
Chrysippus, Fragmenta moralia, 671.2.
23
Philo, Legum allegoriarum libri i-iii, 3.247.8.
24
Clement, Stromata, 7.10.56, §7.1.
25
Flavius Claudius Julianus, Εἰς τὴν μητέρα τῶν θεῶν 20.2 (and 7.2); Flavius Claudius Julianus, Εἰς τὸν βασιλέα Ἥλιον πρὸς
Σαλούστιον 22.22.
the Son sitting on the same throne with the Father, τῷ Πατρὶ συνθρονεύοντα καὶ συγκαθεζόμενον,26
while to Cyril, the Son is σύνθρονός τε καὶ σύνεδρος.27
To Cyril, He “became σύνθρονος to the Father,” σύνθρονος γεγονὼς;28 that is, the notional
connection with Rev 3:21 (ὡς κἀγὼ ἐνίκησα καὶ ἐκάθισα) is even stronger here. According to
the sixth article of faith in the Nicene Creed, Jesus Christ, the incarnated Logos, returns to
heaven, where he sits at the right side of the Father and similarly is taught by John Chrysostom.29
To Gregorius from Nazianzus, the Son is mentioned as ἀρχιερέα, καὶ σύνθρονον.30 To Cyril,
again, in another instance the Son is compared to the angels and He is found to be superior
by far, ὁ δὲ ὑμνολογεῖται μετὰ Πατρὸς, σύνθρονός τε ὢν καὶ συμβασιλεύων αὐτῷ, καὶ ὑπὸ τῶν
ἀγγέλων διακονούμενος.31 To Eusebius, the Son was also “the great angel,” ὡς καὶ «μεγάλης βουλῆς
ἄγγελος».32
26
Athanasius, Sermo in nativitatem Christi [Sp.], 28.972, line 11. Similarly, as σύνθρονοι are mentioned the Son, the
Holy Spirit (σύνθρονον), and King David; see Eusebius, Demonstratio evangelica 4.15.33–35; 5.3.2, 5, 6 and 8, De
ecclesiastica theologia, 1.11.5 l. 2, Commentaria in Psalmos, 23.1149, l. 19, and Fragmenta in Lucam, vol. 24, 549, l. 29.
Still, Epiphanius, Homilia in laudes Mariae deiparae [Sp.] 43.493, ll. 34 and 52. Also, Athanasius, Commentarius de
templo Athenarum [Sp.], 111, l. 12 (similarly in his Commentarius de templo Athenarum according to codex Bodleianus
Roe 5 [Sp.], fol. 155r, l. 5). Basilius, De spiritu sancto 6.15.71. Basilius, Adversus Eunomium (libri 5) 29.760, l. 27.
Cyrillus, Additamentum ad catechesis illuminandorum sextae decimae caput tertium: Catechesis 16.2.8. Marcellus,
Fragmenta 110.3. Romanus Melodus, Cantica 13.17.3; 44.11.3; 56.1.11; 83.17.4; and 84.1.1. Ephraem, Chronicon
647. Cyrillus, Epistulae paschales sive Homiliae paschales (epist. 1–30), 77.601, l. 6. Cyrillus, Expositio in Psalmos,
69.997, l. 16 and 1241, l. 16. Catenae (Novum Testamentum): Catena in epistulam ad Romanos (typus Monacensis) (e
cod. Monac. gr. 412), 287.1; Catenae (Novum Testamentum): Catena in epistulam ad Hebraeos (e cod. Paris. Coislin.
204), 146.6; Catenae (Novum Testamentum): Catena in epistulam ad Hebraeos (catena Nicetae) (e cod. Paris. gr. 238),
310.12 and 577.19. Still, Concilia Oecumenica (ACO): Concilium universale Ephesenum anno 431, tom. 1.1.2.95.11
and 1.1.6.71.10. Eusebius, Demonstratio evangelica 4.15.39.8; 4.15.42.2; 4.15.64.1; and 5.3.5.6. Epiphanius, Ancoratus
19.1.3. Catenae (Novum Testamentum): Catena in Lucam (typus B) (e codd. Paris. Coislin. 23 + Oxon. Bodl. Misc.
182), 156.24; Catenae (Novum Testamentum): Catena in epistulam i ad Corinthios (typus Vaticanus) (e cod. Paris.
gr. 227) 308.9; Catenae (Novum Testamentum): Catena in epistulam ad Hebraeos (catena Nicetae) (e cod. Paris. gr.
238), 320.24. Also, Concilia Oecumenica (ACO): Concilium universale Ephesenum anno 431, tom. 1.1.5.54.21 and
1.1.5.54.21.
27
Cyrillus, Commentarii in Joannem 1.374.6; also in the same commentary, 2.17.27. Cyrillus, Quod unus sit Christus
(Aubert page), 771.2.
28
Cyrillus, Quod unus sit Christus (Aubert page), 730.16. Also, Cyrillus, Quod unus sit Christus (Aubert page), 742.29; see
that in this second text there is word about the question of many gods, too, thus relating to the “two powers” theme: Εἰ
γὰρ καὶ εἰσὶ θεοὶ πολλοὶ <καὶ κύριοι πολλοὶ> ἔν τε οὐρανῷ καὶ ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς, ἀλλ’ ἡμῖν εἷς Θεὸς ὁ Πατὴρ ἐξ οὗ τὰ πάντα, καὶ
ἡμεῖς ἐξ αὐτοῦ, καὶ εἷς Κύριος Ἰησοῦς Χριστὸς δι’ οὗ τὰ πάντα, καὶ ἡμεῖς δι’ αὐτοῦ (Quod unus sit Christus [Aubert page],
742.37). Also, Cyrillus, Epistulae paschales sive Homiliae paschales (epist. 1–30), 77.840.38; 852.37; 880.52; and 937.3.
Cyrillus, Expositio in Psalmos 69.1065.42; and 1252.37. Idem, Commentarii in Lucam (in catenis) 72.672.31; 913.4. Also,
Eustathius, In inscriptione titulorum, Fragment 9.1.
29
John Chrysostom, In epistulam i ad Corinthios (homiliae 1–44) 61.341, l. 26. John Chrysostom, In pharisaeum et
meretricem [Sp.], 61.728, l. 53.
30
Gregory from Nazianzus, Contra Julianum imperatorem 1 (orat. 4), 35.604, l. 26. Gregory from Nazianzus, De
moderatione in disputando (orat. 32), 36.180, l. 18. John Chrysostom, In Joannem (homiliae 1-88), 59.358, l. 34. Gregory
from Nazianzus, In Psalmum 50 [Sp.]: 55.529, l. 10. Gregory from Nazianzus, In Psalmum 50 (homilia 2) [Sp.], 55.583,
l. 43. Gregory from Nazianzus, In assumptionem domini nostri Jesu Christi [Sp.], 61.712, l. 28. Gregory from Nazianzus,
Oratio de hypapante [Sp.], 60, l. 7. Also, Cyril, Fragmenta in sancti Pauli epistulam ad Hebraeos, 384, l. 11. Still, Lexicon
Suda, Alphabetic letter pi, entry 1650, l. 17.
31
Cyril, Thesaurus de sancta consubstantiali trinitate, 75.493, l. 9. Also, Catenae (Novum Testamentum): Catena in
epistulam ad Hebraeos (catena Nicetae) (e cod. Paris. gr. 238), 389, l. 20.
32
Eusebius, Demonstratio evangelica, 5.19.3.11.
John from Damascus mentions the Logos not only as σύνθρονος33 but also as sitting on the
throne of cherubim.34 Actually, to John Chrysostom, Jesus Christ, Logos incarnate, is the master of
all the angels and σύνθρονος to the Father, ὁ τῶν ἀγγέλων δεσπότης, Θεὸς ὁ σύνθρονος τοῦ πατρός.35
Strikingly, to John Chrysostom, the “only begotten Son” is not only σύνθρονος but the “authentic
Child,” too, τοῦ γνησίου Παιδὸς, τοῦ συνθρόνου.36 Now, “child” is not the same term as “Son” and
it is very close to one of Metatron’s adnouns, 37,‫ נער‬meaning the young person; this is important and
we will have to dig a bit here. From this point of view, the fact that Enoch-Metatron is sometimes
referred to as a youth, a ‫נער‬, could bear some special importance.38 Though the youngest of the
angels (in 3 En. 4:10), Metatron the ‫ נער‬was privileged and raised higher than all of them (3 En. 4:8,
8:2, and 9:1–15:2), just like Joseph in the Biblical story. And like Joseph and his brothers, Enoch/
Metatron faced the enmity of other angels.39
According to the teaching on the Christian Holy Trinity, the Second Person is Logos incarnated
to Jesus Christ, who is the Son of the Father. Now, even though the Son is the only begotten One
and He is born from the Father before all the ages, true God from true God, as the Nicene Creed
has it, the whole terminology seems to refer to a “younger” person;40 that is, to a Son and—
akin enough—to a ‫נער‬. It is interesting that along with σύνθρονος, Epiphanius uses the term παῖδα
(“child”), too, for Him, τὸν ἅγιον παῖδά σου, τὸν σύνθρονον τῆς βασιλείας σου, τὸν συναΐδιόν σου
υἱόν, τὸν Θεὸν λόγον.41 Again, the concept is very old. Young κοῦρος Ganymedes is also mentioned as
σύνθρονος (Γανυμήδην σύνθρονον)42 and as having been received “as god” (τὸν Γανυμήδην παρέλαβεν
ὡς θεὸν).43 In Plato’s dialogue Euthydemos, when the philosopher speaks about the initiation by
the Corybantes in their mysteries, he uses the term θρόνωσιν (enthronement).44 Again, Cleinias
here in the Platonic dialogue, who is initiated to the proper use of language, is a young one, while
in those mysteries children and young men are all around, forming a chorus. Of course, in ancient
Greek κοῦρος came from the Ionian κόρος (Doric κῶρος), whence the Κουρῆτας and (perhaps) the
33
John of Damascus, Commentarii in epistulas Pauli [Dub.], 95.940, l. 32. Also, Acta Philippi 79.17. Theodoretus, Eranistes,
157, l. 17.
34
John of Damascus, Epistula de hymno trisagio, 9.5. Of course, the imagery stems from Ezekiel 1 and Revelation 4.
35
Chrysostom, In illud: Apparuit gratia dei omnibus hominibus, 22.4. Also, in Cyrillus, Catecheses ad illuminandos 1–18,
15.22.17.
36
Chrysostom, In Acta apostolorum (homiliae 1–55), 60.262, l. 6.
37
Perhaps, like Metatron, the Hebrew term ‫ נער‬is but a transcription of the Greek νεαρός, that is, a youth. It is more obvious
in the plural, νεαροί—‫נערים‬.
38
It is God Himself who calls Metatron “youth” (3 En. 2:2. 3:2). Also, see Sefer HaQomah 157, where this youth has the
“ark of the youth.” Metatron in b.Yevamoth 16b is a young one who became old (‫)זקנתי גם הייתי נער‬. Yet, he is still called ‫נער‬.
Thus, though old, he is an eternal youth, the very image of a puer aeternus.
39
See 3 Enoch 6.
40
Of course, according to the Church Fathers, the Son supersedes time and creation and though born, He has no beginning
or end and there was no time that He was not. He is αΐδιος. See ὁμόχρονος καὶ σύνθρονος in Romanus Melodus, Cantica
40.11.12. Romanus Melodus, Cantica dubia 61.23.1. On a similar line, see some interesting remarks in James R. Davila,
“Melchizedek, the ‘Youth,’ and Jesus,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls as Background to Postbiblical Judaism and Early Christianity,
ed. James R. Davila (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 248–74.
41
Epiphanius Scr., Anaphora Graeca (fragmenta) [Sp.], 298, l. 28.
42
Scholia in Theocritum, Prolegomenon-anecdote-poem 12.35–37a.4.
43
Scholia in Theocritum, Prolegomenon-anecdote-poem 12.35–37a.2.
44
Plato, Euthydemus 277d, 7. This initiation was like a new birth. See also Hesychius Lexicographer, Lexicon (Α-Ο),
entry 778.1.
Κορύβαντας,45 too, the young companions and guardians of newborn Zeus. The fact that Corybants
were sons and young ones we know from Diodorus Siculus and others.46 The actual meaning of
κοῦρος/κῶρος is the son and/or the child, the adolescent; that is, the νεαρός/ ‫נער‬. Still, in some of
those secret rituals, where one was initiated, enthronement was a part of the whole procedure.47
Back to John Chrysostom’s “child,” the adjective γνησίου in John Chrysostom is a real eyebrow
raiser, too, since it may insinuate a question about “who is the authentic Child,” something very
useful to this approach. Then, perhaps the question of an “authentic Child” was more pressing than
we thought before? We know that in Exod 4:22–23 Israel is named God’s “firstborn son,” but now,
for the Christian view, this title is applied to the Son.
Moving on, the term σύνθρονος is also applied to other humans. To Gregorius from Nazianzus,
the perfectly faithful are σύνθρονοι καὶ ὁμόδοξοι to the Son,48 while John Chrysostom mentions
the possibility of suddenly being seated on the same throne with God, γεγόνασιν ἐξαίφνης καὶ
σύνθρονοι τοῦ Θεοῦ.49 The use of ἐξαίφνης (“suddenly”) here betrays a similar element to the surprise
insinuated in Gen 5:24 about the translation of Enoch as all of a sudden.50 Similarly to Rev 3:21,
where the victorious one is deemed worthy for sitting on the same throne with Christ, the same is
said by Pseudo-Macarius for the Apostles, too, συνδικασταὶ καὶ σύνθρονοι κατηξιώθησαν γενέσθαι.51
Efraim the Syrian maintains the same for the Apostles, Νομοθέται Ἀπόστολοι, φοβεροί καθεζόμενοι
σύνθρονοι τῷ Κριτῇ.52 According to the deacon Olympiodorus, the same goes for the “poor and the
righteous,” οἱ κατὰ θεὸν πτωχοὶ καὶ δίκαιοι μετὰ τῶν κατ’ ἀρετὴν μεγάλων σύνθρονοι τῷ βασιλεῖ τῶν
οὐρανῶν ἔσονται νικήσαντες τοὺς νοητοὺς ἐχθροὺς καὶ ὑψωθέντες.53
The same term (participle νικήσαντες, from νικῶ) is used exactly like in the relevant verses in
Rev 3:21. In a similar spirit, after his repentance, Cyprian became σύνθρονος τοῖς ἐπισκόποις καὶ
λειτουργὸς τοῦ θεοῦ.54 Cyril the theologian, too, refers to the saints as being equal to angels, living
in the same tents and sitting on the same throne as the Apostles, τῶν προφητῶν σύσκηνοι, καὶ τῶν
45
Strabo Geographer, Geogr. 10.3.21.18. As is mentioned, they were healers, too (χορευτὰς καὶ θεραπευτὰς; see, Strabo
Geographer, Geogr. 10.3.15.5). In all probability, the English word “cure” comes from the healers around Zeus, the
Κουρῆτας.
46
Diodorus Siculus, Bibliotheca historica (lib. 1–20), 3.55.9.5. Also, Dionysius Scytobrachion, Fragmenta (Volume-Jacoby-F
1a,32,F, fragment), 7.141. Nonnus, Dion. 46.14–16. In Etymologicum Magnum (Kallierges page 534, line 19), Τουτέστιν οἱ
νεανίαι.
47
Dio Chrysostom, Orat., 12.33.7, σχεδὸν οὖν ὅμοιον ὥσπερ εἴ τις ἄνδρα Ἕλληνα ἢ βάρβαρον μυοίη παραδοὺς εἰς μυστικόν
τινα οἶκον ὑπερφυῆ κάλλει καὶ μεγέθει, πολλὰ μὲν ὁρῶντα μυστικὰ θεάματα, πολλῶν δὲ ἀκούοντα τοιούτων φωνῶν, σκότους
τε καὶ φωτὸς ἐναλλὰξ αὐτῷ φαινομένων, ἄλλων τε μυρίων γιγνομένων, ἔτι δὲ [εἰ] καθάπερ εἰώθασιν ἐν τῷ καλουμένῳ θρονισμῷ
καθίσαντες τοὺς μυουμένους οἱ τελοῦντες κύκλῳ περιχορεύειν (emphasis added). Also, in Posidonius Phil., Fr. 368.46.
48
Gregory of Nazianzus, Supremum vale (orat. 42), 36.484, l. 29; Gregory of Nazianzus, Liturgia sancti Gregorii [Sp.],
36.704, l. 48; Athanasius, Homilia in sanctos patres et prophetas [Sp.], 28.1065, l. 21. Also, Historia Monachorum in
Aegypto, Vita 8.112; Pseudo-Macarius, Sermones 64 (collectio B), Homily 26.1.16.4; Photius, Bibliotheca, Codex 222,
Bekker page 185b.3. Catenae (Novum Testamentum: Catena in Acta (catena Andreae) (e cod. Oxon. coll. nov. 58), 310, l. 28.
49
John Chrysostom, In epistulam ad Colossenses (homiliae 1–12), 62.332, l. 35.
50
Especially in the MT of Gen 5:24 this element of surprise is seen more clearly, as the event seemed to be totally unforeseen
(‫)וְ אֵ י ֶ֕נּנּו‬.
51
Pseudo-Macarius, Homiliae spirituales 50 (collectio H) 28.79.
52
Ephraem Syrus, Precationes e sacris scripturis collectae, quarum pleraequae sunt Sancti Ephraim, pro iis qui uolunt suam
ipsorum, Prayer 8, 351, l. 12.
53
Olympiodorus Diaconus, Commentarii in Job, 307, l. 20. Also, Synesius Phil., Hymni 1.600 (where “Father” is called
upon to “enthrone” him: θρόνισόν με, πάτερ).
54
Apocalypsis Joannis: Apocalypsis apocrypha Joannis (versio tertia), 321, l. 27.
ἀποστόλων σύνθρονοι.55 Even the “Shining one” (LXX: ἑωσφόρος, MT: ‫)הֵ ילֵ ֣ל‬, based on the material
in Isa 14:12–14, is referred to as attempting to be σύνθρονος to God.56 And then, Michael Psellus
in his Opuscula logica, physica, allegorica, alia, when referring to the three Persons of the Christian
Holy Trinity, says that they sit on the same throne (ὅτι σύνθρονα καὶ ὁμόδοξα).57
From all the evidence presented above we may feel safe to conclude that the idea (or, the
concept, the imago) of sitting together on the same throne or on thrones standing side by side is
very old and certainly pre-Christian. It is not only gods who were sitting on the same throne, but
heroes, the victorious faithful, and even virtues. Of course, σύνθρονος is not the same as σύνναος58
or σύμβωμος. Therefore, the idea or the symbol of sitting on a throne with someone else or sitting
to a throne next to another was very well known. What’s more, many a time sitting together on a
throne or in thrones seems like an achievement, something one has to strive and aspire for. Again,
if our route of thought is correct, then, concerning the etymology of the name Metatron, the most
probable place that such a composition could originate from is Rev 3:21.
It is only in Rev 3:21 that it is stated, Ὁ νικῶν, δώσω αὐτῷ καθίσαι μετ’ ἐμοῦ ἐν τῷ θρόνῳ μου, ὡς
κἀγὼ ἐνίκησα καὶ ἐκάθισα μετὰ τοῦ πατρός μου ἐν τῷ θρόνῳ αὐτοῦ (“To the one who is victorious,
I will give the right to sit with me on my throne, just as I was victorious and sat down with my Father
on his throne”—NIV; of course, emphasis added).59 In this single verse both the preposition μετά
(μετ’ and μετὰ) and the noun θρόνος are to be found. The context is quite relevant and perfectly
germane. Actually, the whole narrative in Revelation 3–5 is about a human being who is (or, will
be) translated to heaven and invested with supra-mundane qualities and powers. This is exactly
the issue with Enoch-Metatron in the texts of 1 Enoch, 2 Enoch, 3 Enoch (or, Hebrew Enoch;
or, Sefer Hekhalot), Shiur Qomah, and (probably, underlying in) the relevant references in the
Talmud. Of course, ascension through heavens is one of the main elements in Jewish and Christian
apocalyptic material, too (also in 2 Cor 12:1–4). We should not fail to pay attention to all of the
other related occurrences in the book of Revelation, forming a narrative where heavenly ascent
and enthronement next to God form the peak. As a constellation of clues, all of them point to and
amplify the probability of this approach. It sounds familiar that in Revelation 3–5 one finds the
promise for heavenly translation and a heavenly ascent to the celestial temple, where a vision of the
throne of God and of the thrones of the “elders” is mentioned.60
55
Cyril, Encomium in sanctam Mariam deiparam (homilia diversa 11), 77.1029, l. 42.
56
Cyril Theol., Commentarii in Joannem, 2.17, l. 7 and 651, l. 22.
57
Michael Psellus, Opuscula logica, physica, allegorica, alia, 36.376. The term occurs also in an epigram in the Anthologia
Greaca (Σύνθρονε, in 1.24.p1).
58
Some gods were σύνναοι, that is, they were worshipped in the same temple. In Plutarch, συννάοις καὶ συμβώμοις
(Quaestiones convivales (612c–748d): Stephanus page 679A.4). Elsewhere, goddess Demeter was σύνναος to god Poseidon;
Δήμητρος σύνναος ὁ Ποσειδῶν (Quaestiones convivales (612c–748d): Stephanus page 668B.10. On the same use of the
term, see Isidor Hymn., Hymni 3.34. Also, Preisendanz, Papyri magicae 31c2 and 73.1. Aelius Dionysius, Ἀττικὰ ὀνόματα,
Alphabetic letter omicron, entry 20.1.
59
In Matt 19:28 Jesus states that the Apostles will sit on twelve thrones and that they will judge the twelve tribes. This, too,
will come as an achievement, since they have left their homes and families, having sacrificed everything in order to follow
him (see Matt 19:27 and 29). Yet, the terminological “affinities” to the term Metatron are not present there. The whole
image might echo Dan 12:3 and other apocalyptic material.
60
See that in the work of Dionysius of Areopagita On the Heavenly Hierarchy (41.14), the θρόνοι are a specific order of
angelic beings, Σεραφὶμ δὲ καὶ θρόνοι καὶ κυριότητες.
More specifically, in Rev 2:7 the victorious one will eat from the tree of life, while in Rev 2:17 he
will eat the manna and he will receive a new name; since Enoch was given a new name, Metatron,
this last detail is very important to our case. Even more, in Rev 2:28 he will receive the title
“morning star”; in Rev 3:5 white garments are promised to be given; in Rev 3:12 the victorious one
will become a pillar in the heavenly temple of God, while the names of God, of the New Jerusalem,
and the “new name” of Christ will be inscribed on him; in Rev 3:21 the victorious one will sit with
Him as He sat with His Father in the latter’s throne (the reader tends to suppose here the existence
of one throne with two occupants; first, the victorious one with Jesus Christ and then, Jesus Christ
with the Father); that is why the noun θρόνος is in singular.
Revelation 4 forms one of the apocalyptic crescendi in the book, where an open door in heaven,
the invitation for a heavenly journey, the vision of a celestial enthroned luminous being (God) in
the middle of one square or circle formed by four holy singing creatures and of another, larger
one, formed by twenty-four enthroned and crowned elders; what is more, the throne has a strong
fiery nature. Another even vaster circle formed by myriads of angels is insinuated in 5:11; next to
this throne and at its right side there was a book that was given to the Lamb of God in 5:7–8. This
Lamb of God, Jesus Christ, is portrayed as sitting in the center of the throne of God,61 ἐν μέσῳ τοῦ
θρόνου καὶ τῶν τεσσάρων ζῴων καὶ ἐν μέσῳ τῶν πρεσβυτέρων (Rev 5:6); though it may seem that the
Lamb stood with the throne and the living creatures and the elders, Rev 3:21 may point to standing
on the throne. To the pious Christian mind of that time, it is this very verse that depicts the peak
of achievement in the heavenly ascent: to be enthroned with Jesus Christ, next to him, to καθίσαι
μετ’ ἐμοῦ ἐν τῷ θρόνῳ μου, ὡς κἀγὼ ἐνίκησα καὶ ἐκάθισα μετὰ τοῦ πατρός μου ἐν τῷ θρόνῳ αὐτοῦ. If
someone would like to name that person, who sits next on the throne (or to another throne next
to the first), he would have to use either σύνθρονος or μετάθρονος. According to this source, all the
composite parts of the title/name Metatron (μετά, θρόνος) are found only in Rev 3:21. Still, the fact
that to the Jewish sources there is only one throne in highest heaven makes the use of the idea of
σύνθρονος more probable.62 In the Talmudic tractate, where Aḥer saw Metatron sitting in heaven,
one may conceive that only the throne of God could be meant there.63
Therefore, Metatron was punished not only because he was sitting but also because he was
sitting on the only place one could sit in highest heaven: on God’s throne.64 This view makes him
ipso facto a σύνθρονος to God (Was God absent at the time? Did He not know?). Now, according
to the (other) sources who refer to a σύνθρονος (see previous paragraphs), they also use terms like
πάρεδρος and συγκαθεζόμενος, yet the point is the same: there is one more occupant on the throne.
61
See that in Hekhalot Zutarti the “youth” Metatron stands in the center of the “innermost centre around God” (Schäfer,
The Origins of Jewish Mysticism, 296).
62
On the other hand, it is also mentioned that Metatron sits on a throne in the gate entrance to the seventh palace (see 3
Enoch 16).
63
The fact that in the Aḥer story Metatron is punished because he is sitting in a throne in heaven proves that his punishment
had to do with claims concerning the existence of another power, that is, another divine being; something unacceptable to
the thought and the theology of the rabbis. It was the Christians who preached that Jesus Christ was “son of God,” Kurios
and enthroned.
64
In 3 Enoch other thrones are mentioned, too, where angels are seated; yet, no such reaction and punishment is mentioned
concerning another angel. Still, Metatron’s throne is similar to God’s throne (3 En. 12), thus making it possible for the
confusion to happen. Also, in Hekhalot Zutarti God’s and Metatron’s names become almost interchangeable (see Schäfer,
The Origins of Jewish Mysticism, 296–7).
Again, in our view, σύνθρονος is quite close to μετάθρονος and Lieberman is right.65 As he points
out, “[Synthronos] was used by the Christians as a title for Jesus, and it is not surprising that the
Jews shunned this term as an appellation of the Angel.”66 The term πρόθρονον is also found in an
epigram.67
All this taken into consideration, the formation of the title μετάθρονος/Metatron is only one
moment away. And it is only in and around Rev 3:21 that all the other adjacent thematic elements
are to be found, too. Therefore, according to this approach, this specific verse might be a most
suitable starting point for the formation of the term-title Metatron. At the same time, it should
be noted that perhaps it is not one single trait in the book of Revelation that may be absolutely
persuasive about this approach, but when all of the existing elements are seen synergistically or in
a holistic way, with Rev 3:21 as their spearhead, the conclusion might seem quite probable. What’s
more, it should not escape attention that many of the characteristics of the archangel Metatron
are to be found in the Lamb/Christ in the book of Revelation.68 Which brings us to the next
question: Why would the Jewish mystics (or, the exegetes) invent such a term?
As is known, during the first centuries of the Common Era, there was a heated debate between
Jews, Christians, and Gnostics concerning the nature and the theology of the Godhead. Christians
taught about a Trinity of Persons, instead of the strict Jewish monotheism, while Gnostics felt free
to invent an even more composite and pleromatic image of the divinity by reversing roles and
characters. According to a very fast-evolving Christology, Jesus Christ was the preexistent Logos
and Son of God that came down and tabernacled among men (John 1:1–14) and at the end of his
mission he ascended bodily in heaven (like Enoch, perhaps the Righteous Teacher—though not
after death—and apostle Paul) to be enthroned next to the Father. Now, the idea of the Son sitting
on the same throne with the Father must have stirred a lot of opposition from the Jewish side.69 It is
not only Israel who is mentioned as God’s “firstborn son,” but the whole idea that Jesus Christ was
God and equal to the Father must have brought about reactions not only on the verbal level but also
on a theological or angelogical one. That was the main part of the “two powers” battlefield.70 How
would a Jew fight this? How would a Jewish mystic react when former brothers—and others—
demanded that God had a partner in creation, one who was sitting on a heavenly throne? One
way would be that of absolute rejection: no way. Then a hermeneutical marathon would follow,
one woven around Genesis 1, Isaiah 6, Ezekiel 1, and Daniel 7, to name but a few. Another way
would be not only the angelization of Jesus Christ, thus rendering him less dangerous, but also his
naming after one of the most annoying characteristics of his office. That is probably how the term
Metatron/μετάθρονος might have come about from Rev 3:21, as a response coming from Jewish
mystics to Jesus Christ sitting on the throne, next to the Father.
65
For the possible connection of the two terms, see Lieberman, “Metatron,” 291–2, 294, and 296.
66
Ibid., 297.
67
Gregory of Nazianzus, Epigrammata 8.116.2 (or, similarly, in Anthologia Graeca 8.116.1).
68
Schäfer has proposed that “we try to understand the figure of Metatron as an answer to the New Testament’s message of
Jesus Christ” (The Origins of Jewish Mysticism, 324; emphasis original).
69
Daniel Boyarin has contributed greatly on the issue of the existence of some kind of Jewish binitarianism; see his “The
Gospel of the Memra: Jewish Binitarianism and the Prologue to John,” HTR 94 (2001): 243–84. See also Schäfer’s approach
in his The Origins of Jewish Mysticism, 323–4.
70
Alan F. Segal, Two Powers in Heaven: Early Rabbinic Reports about Christianity and Gnosticism, SJLA 25 (Leiden: Brill,
1977), is now a classic.
To be sure, the name Metatron has no pre-Christian witness. Yet, figures that present some
similar characteristics are there, like Enoch, who is metamorphosed to an angel, and Melchizedek,
who in 11QMelch bears some angelic and messianic traits. Is it improbable that circles of early
Jewish mystics received the material on the already angelized Enoch, so dear to many from the
apocalyptic milieu, and projected on him some of the most “annoying” characteristics of Jesus
Christ? In such a way they could explain away some of the basic claims of the Christians and at the
same time retain intact their old approach on the Godhead. Then, the one seen in the visions and
the traditions of the Christians was not God or a so-called Person, “the Son,” but an angel, one of
the highest angels or even the highest one. After all, apocalyptic, mythical, and mystical material
was replete with similar angelic beings, gods, or heroes who shared akin characteristics; why not
this one, too?
If this view is valid, then, to those mystics, the divine being on the throne in many Christian texts
and traditions was not God but his closest angel: one invested with light or solar traits,71 deeply
connected to the cosmos, a macranthropus similar to Adam haRishon72 or Adam Qadmon,73 who
sat crowned on a heavenly throne and bore the Name itself,74 actually, a “smaller god,”75 yes, a
younger one, but not the God. According to this approach, that is Metatron.
Perhaps it is of relevance to our discussion that in b.Sanhedrin 38b, when the rabbis converse
about the creation of man (and angels), they might actually answer to Christian claims concerning
the use of verbs in plural in the relevant passages in Genesis 1. For the Christian part, plural meant
71
In 3 Enoch 15, Enoch is transformed into a fire and light being. Earlier angels prostrated themselves in front of him. One
cannot help but remember Moses’ radiant face when descending Sinai (Exod 34:29–35) and Jesus’ transfiguration on the
mount (Matt 17:1–8). In both cases solar/divine characteristics are present, while the elders are afraid to approach Moses
and the disciples fall prostrate.
72
It is not without meaning that in 3 Enoch and in Sefer Razi’el 255–256 Metatron has the same size as the “first man” (‫אדם‬
‫ )הראשון‬in b.Sanhedrin 38b. There the “first man” is reduced in size because of his sin, that is, due to his ill will to become
God. Similarly, Metatron is reduced because of an analogous lapse: he sat and he gave the impression that he was God. It is
in the same tractate, the same chapter and page (b.Sanhedrin 38b) that the measurements of the first man are addressed.
73
Adam Qadmon is the cosmic Tree-Man in the later Kabbalah, especially of the Zohar, constituted by the organism of the
sefiroth.
74
Superiority on the angels and the bearing of “the name” is mentioned concerning Jesus in Heb 1:3–4; see below and
Schäfer, The Origins of Jewish Mysticism, 325–6. Alexander presents the probability of Metatron’s name being devised for
magical purposes; see Alexander, “The Historical Settings of the Hebrew Book of Enoch,” 162, and his contribution in
OTP, 243.
75
The whole procedure through which Enoch becomes Metatron and is given the name “Lesser YHWH” reminds the ritual
of the chrism of the high priest. What’s more, the letters of creation are inscribed on his crown, all angels fall prostrate
before him, and he becomes God’s viceroy. Schäfer’s description is accurate: “he is enthroned (almost) like God, he looks
(almost) like God, he has (almost) the same name as God, he knows all heavenly and earthly secrets, … and he is worshipped
(almost) like God” (The Origins of Jewish Mysticism, 320–1); and again, “There is only one other figure on whom similar
qualities are lavished: Jesus Christ” (The Origins of Jewish Mysticism, 322). It should also be noted that here we see all the
elements of a rite of passage or initiation, where the old self/person “dies” and a new one is born. Interestingly enough, in
John 3:3–8, Jesus teaches Nicodemus that ἐὰν μή τις γεννηθῇ ἄνωθεν, οὐ δύναται ἰδεῖν τὴν βασιλείαν τοῦ θεου (“no one can
see the kingdom of God without being born from above” 3:3—NRS). Also, in the hymn in Phil 2:6–11 elements of “death”
and new “birth” are present, ἑαυτὸν ἐκένωσεν μορφὴν δούλου λαβών, ἐν ὁμοιώματι ἀνθρώπων γενόμενος. Attention to this
hymn was paid by Stroumsa (see previous note), while Schäfer brings it back to the fore again (Schäfer, The Origins of Jewish
Mysticism, 324–5). In the Dead Sea Scrolls the Righteous Teacher or the presumed author of the Hodayot sits in the edah of
the heavenly beings, the elim. Not only does he claim to be the only one to have ascended on high, to be enthroned, to have
supramundane knowledge and wisdom, but also to have his abode there, with them, the elim (“gods,” from el, or “angels”).
Jesus Christ and Enoch-Metatron may fall in the same category of contenders.
the existence of more than one person in heaven, thus pointing to the divinity of Jesus Christ
and to his participation to the creation of the world (to the Holy Spirit, too). For the rabbis, the
plural in Gen 1:26 (also in 3:22 and 11:7) referred to the angels. Still, it is here that the need to be
able to deal with heretics (‫ אפיקורוס‬and/or ‫ )מינים‬is raised, whether they are of Gentile or of Jewish
origin.76 Yet, the issue goes a lot more interesting, since they soon come (twice) to the hot reference
of “thrones” (‫ )כרסון‬in Dan 7:9 and to the ancient one who sat there (‫;)יתיב יומין ועתיק רמיו כרסון די עד‬
again, the plural had to be explained. Now, various explanations are offered, with the last one
downplaying the plural altogether: actually, the second “throne” is not a throne at all, it is only a
footstool. In such a way the issue of key terms in plural was rendered theologically secure from the
part of the rabbis.
It is in this very same spot, where the discussion is on “thrones,” that the rabbis bring about a
teaching concerning Metatron. To their view, in the passage concerning the invitation to Moses
and the others to ascend “to the Lord” in Exod 24:177 it is Metatron speaking and not one or
the other Person in the Christian Trinity.78 Then, interestingly enough and up to our point, the
rabbis continue, there is a danger of exchanging God for Metatron,79 for his name is similar to his
Master,80 and—what’s more—His name “is in him.”81 Then, they wonder, should we “worship”
Metatron? And the answer goes in the negative of course, since God is only one. If one would
worship someone else than God, although that one might have been invested with many heavenly
qualities, that would be a serious rebellious act not to be pardoned.
A final, albeit distant, possibility should be mentioned. Could Metatron be the one who measures
the guf haShekinah (or, the body of the Presence) in the Shiur Qomah traditions (texts full of names,
letters, and measurements)?82 In Greek the verb “to measure” is μετρῶ, while the noun would be
76
In the same context (b.Sanhedrin 38b), the first Adam is deemed a min, a heretic (‫)אדם היה הראשון מין‬, due to his sin. Yet, in
the “two powers” incident Metatron cannot be deemed as a min, but Elisha ben Avuyah is; he is named Aḥer (“other,” one
who cut his ties with his kin).
77
LXX: ἀνάβηθι πρὸς κύριον, MT: ‫עֲלֵ ֣ה אֶ ל־יְ ה ֗ ָוה‬.
78
Notice that Jesus in John 3:12 adopts a rather polemical tone in his speech to Nicodemus, claiming that no other has ever
ascended to heaven than the one who descended from there; that is, him, the “son of man.” In the same context, Moses is
mentioned, though, as Charlesworth has shown, a possibility of the figure of Enoch lurking among the lines of John 3 is not
unthinkable; see “Did the Fourth Evangelist Know the Enoch Tradition?” in Testimony and Interpretation: Early Christology
and Its Judeo-Hellenistic Milieu, Studies in Honor of Petr Pokorný, ed. Jiri Mrázek and Jan Roskovec (London: T&T Clark,
2004), 223–39; and James H. Charlesworth, Jesus as Mirrored in John: The Genius in the New Testament (London: T&T
Clark, 2018), c hapters 10–11.
79
What has been greatly overlooked here is the ancient belief of identifying or recognizing an entity not on morphical
grounds (on his shape or looks) but on lexarithmetic; that is, by the numerical value of the letters constituting his name.
In all probability, the numerical value had to do with the placement of the letters on a magical square and/or with the
construction of a hierarchy. Herein one might find one key for solving some of the Shiur Qomah measurement riddles.
80
The name Metatron had the same numerical value (314) with Shadday, one of God’s names.
81
Reflecting on Exod 23:21, LXX: τὸ γὰρ ὄνομά μού ἐστιν ἐπ᾽ αὐτῷ, MT: ‫כי שמי בקרבו‬. It is not quite clear which one exactly
of God’s names is meant here, though it is often taken to be the Tetragrammaton. On the other hand, many angelic names
are theophoric. See, for example, Michael, Yahoel, and Uriel. Apart from the numerical value of Metatron’s name (see
above), it is not easily comprehensible how His name is in (or, on) the angel. Still, in our mind, there is a great difference
between the MT and the LXX due to the rendering of the preposition ἐπί / ִ ְ‫ּב‬. It is very interesting that Jesus receives the
Name above all names. See that in Phil 2:9–10 Jesus is exalted by God in the highest place and he receives “the name above
every name” (ἐχαρίσατο αὐτῷ τὸ ὄνομα τὸ ὑπὲρ πᾶν ὄνομα); as a consequence, now “every knee” shall “bow” to him, in
heaven, on earth, and below (see also Matt 28:18; John 17:11–12; Eph 1:21; and 3 John 1:7).
82
See Martin S. Cohen, The Shi’ur Qomah: Liturgy and Theurgy in Pre-Kabbalistic Jewish Mysticism (Lanham, MD: University
Press of America, 1983), 125–6.
μέτρον.83 One possible rendering of the phrase “I measure the being” would be μετρῶ-το-όν. Let
us remember that the LXX translate God’s answer in Exod 3:14 ‫ֲׁשר ֶ ֽאהְ יֶ ֖ה‬֣ ֶ ‫ ֶ ֽאהְ יֶ ֑ה א‬as ἐγώ εἰμι ὁ ὤν
(emphasis added). What’s more, μητάτωρ (metator)84 is the measurer of spaces and places, the
χωρομέτρης, and more significantly, the μητατώριον is the place of the deacon inside the adytum.85
Therefore, given his proximity to God and his high priestly duties in the heavenly temple, could
Metatron be the measurer (μητάτωρ, μέτρον) who had his place in the holiest place (μητατώριον or
μιτατώριον)?
Given that many a time angelic names are difficult to etymologize, a number of approaches
could be possible concerning the name of Metatron. Yet, not all of them are equally probable,
too. Taking into consideration a large part of the available data, the brief outline presented in the
preceding pages amplifies older suggestions and calls for a reevaluation. Though some differences
are acute, it is the very nature of this archangel, as much as his human past, too,86 that challenges
for a comparison to Jesus Christ.
In a similar way that some Gnostic sects reversed the role of persons and symbols in the Hebrew
Bible, perhaps some Jewish mystics or rabbis projected on this entity some of Jesus Christ’s titles
and characteristics and by degrading or knocking—the one way or the other not so very fond to
the rabbis—Enoch, they tried to offer an indirect, though meaningful answer to the claims of the
Christians. The whole issue could be easily classified among the many endeavors by apocalypticists
and others to enrich (or to lower) biblical heroes and to fashion them according to their views.
Though this approach presents some serious positive points, still it is not free of lacunae, too. Then,
let us examine what happens to Jacob/Israel in the Prayer of Joseph.
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Schäfer, Peter. The Origins of Jewish Mysticism. Tübingen: Möhr Siebeck, 2009.
Scholem, Gershom G. Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism. 3rd ed. New York: Schocken, 1995.
Segal, Alan F. Two Powers in Heaven: Early Rabbinic Reports about Christianity and Gnosticism. Studies in
Judaism in Late Antiquity 25. Leiden: Brill, 1977.
Stroumsa, Guy G. “Form(s) of God: Some Notes on Meṭaṭron and Christ: For Shlomo Pines.” Harvard
Theological Review 76 (1983): 269–88.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Some Considerations on Ethics in

Early Jewish Theologies and the
New Testament
GERBERN S. OEGEMA
1. INTRODUCTION
Antiquity, with its rich and diverse Greco-Roman and Judeo-Christian religious, ethical, and legal
traditions, is at the root of much of the fabric of the Western mindset and societal structures. A study
of its roots has mostly been understood as beneficial for a better understanding of both the past and
of many a present-day issue. In light of this it rather is surprising that a comprehensive study of ethics
in antiquity covering all available texts is lacking. Whereas later legal and philosophical trends and
developments have picked up most of the Greco-Roman legal and philosophical heritage, and the
Jewish and Christian biblical canons have been a continuous source of later Jewish and Christian
theological and moral practices and beliefs, albeit in an often controversial way, almost nothing in
this respect has happened with the many noncanonical writings. Admittedly, not all writings have
been known to many people, and many of them only have been discovered during the past fifty to
seventy years, and one can even detect several biases toward them. But the literature we are talking
here about, the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Apocrypha and the Pseudepigrapha, the Christian and Gnostic
Apocrypha, and the writings of Philo and Josephus, merit all of our attention.1
Ethics is here understood as a branch of philosophy that involves systematizing, defending,
and recommending concepts of right and wrong conduct and seeks to resolve questions of human
morality by defining concepts such as good and evil, right and wrong, virtue and vice, justice and
crime. Obviously, many noncanonical writings take moral reasoning found in the canonical books
as their starting point and guideline, but at the same time they also expand argumentations or raise
new questions. Where possible, one needs to differentiate between passages, which imply meta-
ethics, normative ethics, and applied ethics, although the relevant passages are often too short or
unspecific to be categorized and systematized accordingly.
1
For a general introduction in some of the problems see F. García Martínez and M. Popović, Defining Identities: We, You,
and the Other in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Proceedings of the Fifth Meeting of the IOQS in Groningen (Leiden: Brill, 2008). See
the older work S. Belkin, Philo and the Oral Law; the Philonic Interpretation of Biblical Law in Relation to the Palestinian
Halakah (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1940). On the particular problem of suicide, which occupies an
important role in Josephus deliberations and speeches (cf. Masada), see the articles on Josephus in L. D. Hankoff and B.
Einsidler, Suicide: Theory and Clinical Aspects (Littleton: PSG, 1979).
2. CONTEXT
Once Judaism and Hellenism in the third and second centuries bce had fruitfully engaged, new
ideas and mergers of different concepts started to blossom in the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha.
In quite a few of these writings, for example, Jesus Sirach and the Wisdom of Solomon, we find
evidence that the Thora is philosophically equated with the Greek concept of Wisdom and that
divine teaching is identified with the law of nature or of the cosmos. In both cases, Thora/Wisdom
functions as the foundation of all of the laws of society and consists of many moral teachings
for humanity. Furthermore, in connection with the philosophical concept of sophia, we find the
frequent employment of practical wisdom, specifically in the form of practical wisdom sayings,
sententiae or gnomoi, most notably narrated within the framework of the pedagogical teachings of
parents to their children or in general of an older generation to a newer one. A popular example
here is the employment of the Golden Rule, as it best exemplifies the philosophical equation of
Thora and Wisdom and at the same time is the epitome of practical wisdom.2
Another current of the period was that of apocalypticism, a worldview that would influence
ethics in a very specific way. Crucial to this worldview was that humanity was seen as caught in a
cosmic battle, humanity would be mostly the victim of a cosmic battle. A war between good and
evil (either personified or seen as abstract powers): a clash between God and his angels and the
fallen angels and their leaders. Although there was some room for human action and responsibility
within this battle, the course of history was in principal predetermined, namely as a sequence of
good and bad periods heading toward a catastrophic climax. Even in the end, God would not
intervene directly, but send an Anointed or Messiah together with a host of angels to speak and
execute the final judgment. With this concept in mind, human responsibility was by nature limited
and ethical teaching consisted mainly of a call to follow the laws of the course of history and of
the cosmos. Within the microcosmos of the individual’s place in the family, clan, or smaller society,
various wisdom sayings and collections of teaching that had been growing throughout history and
that had come from the whole of the Ancient Near Eastern environment to enter Judaism during
its postexilic period as Wisdom theology would give someone meaning and direction in life. The
authors of the apocalyptic writings would see man’s ethics being limited in time and subject: they
therefore developed a so-called “interim ethics” for a minority.
Human responsibility, the need to act morally wise, and the necessity of developing moral
teaching begin with accepting that there is at least some space for human action. This space depends
on the answers given to the question on the origin of evil and death and whether and how to deal
with it. The Prophets of Israel predominantly considered the wicked human heart to be the origin
of evil, and with little interruption called people to return to the moral teaching of the God of
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. However, in the Persian period, the apocalyptic authors (beginning
with those of the early parts of 1 Enoch, some of the Dead Sea Scrolls, and then continuing with
those of 4 Ezra and 2 Baruch around 100 ce) blamed the fallen angels for having brought about
2
See more general on wisdom in the Bible, T. A. Perry, God’s Twilight Zone: Wisdom in the Hebrew Bible (Peabody,
MA: Hendrickson, 2008). Compare here A. W. Kenworthy, The Nature and Authority of Old Testament Wisdom Family
Ethics: With Special Reference to Proverbs and Sirach (PhD diss., University of Melbourne, 1974). See S. Burkes, “Wisdom
and Law: Choosing Life in Ben Sira and Baruch,” JSJ 30 (1999): 253–76; and J. J. Collins, “Ben Sira’s Ethics.” Pages 62–79
in Jewish Wisdom in the Hellenistic Age. Edited by John J. Collins. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1997.
ETHICS IN EARLY JEWISH THEOLOGIES 297
evil and death on earth. They divided mankind into two groups: those under influence of these
fallen angels, who were acting accordingly in a wicked manner, and those under the influence of
the angels of God acting righteously. Wisdom was to possess enough knowledge of where mankind
came from and belonged to and acted accordingly righteous that one could avoid being pulled into
the maelstrom of the evil powers.
In the Hellenistic period, under the influence of both Stoic philosophy and apocalyptic thinking,
the various Jewish groups in society (especially after the Maccabean revolt of 164 bce) were
increasingly divided on questions of the interaction between fate and human responsibility. As
Flavius Josephus later reports, the Sadducees thought everything to be dependent on fate and left
no room for human action. As they also didn’t believe in a life after death, a novel belief since
the second century bce, their maxim was to enjoy life as long as possible, as there was nothing
one could do to change one’s fate. Also according to Josephus the Essenes and the Pharisees tried
different balances between fate and human responsibility.3
Contrary to the Sadducees, the Essenes and Pharisees believed in the possibility of different
degrees of interaction between fate and one’s own action and responsibility, with the Pharisees
giving somewhat more room to free will and independent human action than the Essenes. For the
latter, it was important that one could know one’s fate by studying Scripture and reading it through
the lens of their eschatological and apocalyptic worldview: there was a cosmic battle going on
between the good and evil angels, who were able to influence humankind in both directions. For
the Pharisees, more than for the Essenes, it was more important to develop a strategy for making
the best of one’s place in society and acting politically prudent.
For both the Essenes and the Pharisees it was clear that one can decide which direction to take by
acting either foolishly or wisely, wickedly or righteously. Knowledge of one’s fate and one’s destiny
and teaching the right kind of action were therefore of the utmost importance. Again, for the
Pharisees there was more room for human acting than for the Essenes, who believed that, through
predestination, every man had a given portion of good and evil parts in him, and it was difficult,
though not impossible, to change one’s course in life.
Therefore, the Pharisees were best prepared to develop a more advanced ethics and moral teaching
for society at large, which they were also able to adjust to the needs of an ever-changing society
and politics by constantly updating their interpretation and adaptation of the Mosaic Law. It was the
Pharisees, then, who laid the foundations of the Oral Thora and later rabbinic Judaism, whereas the
Essenes developed only a group ethic with an emphasis on inner social values, and the Sadducees
produced an ethic, if at all, that served only themselves and was meant to allow their own party to
survive as best as possible.
Between the fifth and fourth centuries bce and the Maccabean revolt in 164 bce the ethical values
of Judaism in the Persian and Hellenistic period developed from a Prophetic acceptance, through
3
See on the “male” virtues of endurance of the Maccabees themselves according to 1 and 2 Maccabees and other writings
from the Greco-Roman period, T. A. Adamopoulo, Endurance, Greek and Early Christian: The Moral Transformation of the
Greek Idea of Endurance, from the Homeric Battlefield to the Apostle Paul (PhD diss., Brown University, 1996); and on the
sociopolitical aspects of the Maccabean Revolt, G. G. Stroumsa and G. Stanton, eds., Tolerance and Intolerance in Early
Judaism and Christianity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008). See further G. G. Xeravits and J. Zsengellér, The
Books of the Maccabees: History, Theology, Ideology: Papers of the Second International Conference on the Deuteronomical
Books, Pápa, Hungary, 9-11 June, 2005 (Leiden: Brill, 2007).
a post-Prophetic and apocalyptically inspired denial of human responsibility to a more balanced

approach between the need for human action. This call for religious freedom, and the fight for what
by then would be called “Judaismos,” that is, a set of Jewish values simply called the traditions of
the ancestors and, as such, consisting of the essence of Mosaic teachings, would continue during the
following period. It would last from the independent Jewish state ruled by the Hasmoneans until
the coming of the Romans and the Herodian rule at the end of the first century bce, and afterward
also influence New Testament and early Christian ethics. From then on, man’s principal obligation in
society was to defend these traditions against anyone endangering them, whether from the outside or
the inside. In other words, ethics often functioned to define and defend Jewish identity with or against
the definitions of other groups within Jewish society.
It is this period in history during which most of the known noncanonical writings were written.
The ethics expressed in them will be the subject of this investigation. For sure, the ethics found in
the early Jewish literature is as diverse as the noncanonical Jewish writings are themselves. They all
witness a many-sided Early Judaism, in which many groups with sometimes very differing opinions
existed next to each other. The hermeneutical background and practical application of ethics in their
writings express not only the vividness of their dialogue between themselves and with society at large
but also the diversity of Thora interpretation in the Second Temple. In most if not all cases ethics
functions within the realm of the “religion” or “theology” of Early Judaism and its many branches
and is interconnected with the various conceptions of Thora as teaching and/or derived from the
theological concepts, wisdom, divine revelation, divine intervention, evil, human responsibility,
and love.
The topic “Ethics in Antiquity” and the question belonging to it, namely, whether the “Ethics of
the non-canonical literature” does represent a specific response to moral issues, and therefore does
presuppose a theological perspective on it, clearly merit our attention. Even more so, and within
the context of the more recent history of research of a truly novel approach to Early Judaism and
Early Christianity in their Greco-Roman setting, they are a most valuable collection of writings,
when approached theologically and not merely literarily, historically, and comparatively; they can
offer important clues not only to their own ancient setting but also to modern-day questions. More
importantly, it presupposes looking at Judaism and Christianity in antiquity as an independent area of
research (as part of “Religions in Antiquity”), and not one serving the needs of the more traditional
disciplines of Old or New Testament Studies.
A look at the state of research reveals the lack of concise studies on our topic and at the same
time a need for a more systematic approach.4 The Review of Biblical Literature website (accessed on
August 25, 2017) lists seventy-three book reviews on aspects of ethics, of which the overwhelming
majority deal with ethics in both the Old and New Testament, some in rabbinic Judaism and the
Greco-Roman world, but none with ethics in the noncanonical literature.5
4
I myself have argued for a much broader and inclusive approach. See my “Non-Canonical Writings and Biblical Theology,”
in The Changing Face of Judaism, Christianity and Other Religions in Greco-Roman Antiquity, ed. I. Henderson and G. S.
Oegema, Studien zu den JSHRZ 2 (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus 2006), 491–512; G. S. Oegema, “Ethics in the
Noncanonical Jewish Writings,” New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2007), 2:321–8,
and G. S. Oegema, Early Judaism and Modern Culture: Essays on Early Jewish Literature and Theology (Grand Rapids,
MI: Eerdmans, 2011).
5
When looking at two examples, D. Marguerat, La nouvelle eschatology dans les bas-judaïsme palestinien et dans l’evangile
selon Matthieu. Une approche de la relation entre l’eschatologie et l’ethique (PhD diss., University of Lausanne, 1975), and
3. ETHICS IN EARLY JUDAISM

The writings of Early Judaism—that is, not only the Pseudepigrapha but also the Apocrypha, the
Qumran Scrolls, Philo, and Josephus—neither represent a specific religious group or a sociological
movement nor do they all originate from the same geographical area and period in history, nor do
they present a uniform theology or set of religious views, let alone a common tradition they would
have in common.6 Instead they come to us from different life settings and represent many different,
often unknown, groups and socioreligious traditions in Second Temple Judaism (538 bce to 70/135
ce). Furthermore, equally unlike the Jewish or Christian Bible, the Pseudepigrapha and the other
early Jewish writings of Early Judaism don’t have a present-day faith community to represent them.
In this essay we will try to draw a more complete picture of ethics in Early Judaism, of which
the noncanonical or early Jewish writings are indeed the main witness.7 Whereas the organizing
principle of both the Jüdische Schriften aus hellenistisch-römischer Zeit (JSHRZ) and the Old
Testament Pseudepigrapha (OTP) will be known to most of you—and has been chosen here for
practical reasons, although the logic behind it is admittedly imperfect—in the latter case, it will
be important to mention the five theological themes or red threads with which I try to cover the
different aspects of ethics within its larger context, namely, (1) Thora and wisdom; (2) Divine
revelation and intervention; (3) The origin of and ways to deal with evil; (4) Human responsibility
and one’s role in society; and (5) Practical ethics between the “love command” and the “golden
rule.”8
T. B. Maston, Biblical Ethics: A Guide to the Ethical Message of the Scriptures from Genesis through Revelation (Cleveland,
OH: World, 1967), one sees immediately the center of the interest in early Judaism: it is the Biblical canon.
Other studies though do give attention to our topic, but very much from the perspective of the Apocrypha, which by many
traditions were and are considered to be deuterocanonical. See, e.g., A. P. Bloch, A Book of Jewish Ethical Concepts: Biblical
and Postbiblical (New York: KTAV, 1984); E. J. Schnabel, Law and Wisdom from Ben Sira to Paul: A Tradition Historical
Enquiry into the Relation of Law, Wisdom, and Ethics, WUNT II/16 (Tübingen: Mohr, 1985); G. M. Zerbe, Non-Retaliation
in Early Jewish and New Testament Texts: Ethical Themes in Social Contexts, JSPSup 13 (Leiden: Brill, 1993), and already
A. Cronbach, “The Social Ideals of the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha,” HUCA 18 (1944): 119–56; H. C. Kee, “Models of
Community in the Literature of Postexilic Judaism,” in Who Are the People of God? Early Christian Models of Community
(New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1995), 17–54; E. Schürer, The History of the Jewish People in the Age of Jesus Christ
(175 B.C.–A.D. 135), ed. F. Millar; G. Vermes, rev. ed., 4 vols (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1973–87).
6
See A. P. Bloch, Book of Jewish Ethical Concepts; Schnabel, Law and Wisdom from Ben Sira to Paul; and Zerbe,
Non-Retaliation.
7
Some of the older works to be mentioned here are: R. Travers Herford, Talmud and Apocrypha; a Comparative Study of
the Jewish Ethical Teaching in the Rabbinical and Non-Rabbinical Sources in the Early Centuries (New York: KTAV, 1971);
H. Maldwyn Hughes, The Ethics of Jewish Apocryphal Literature (London: Robert Culley, 1909); J. J. Lewis, The Ethics of
Judaism in the Hellenistic Period, from the Apocrypha and the Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament (PhD diss., University
of London, 1958); P. Chatelion Counet, “Pseudepigraphy and the Petrine School: Spirit and Tradition in 1 and 2 Peter and
Jude,” HTS Theological Studies 62.2 (2006): 403–24; K. H. V. Merguet, Die Glaubens- und Sittenlehre des Buches Jesus
Sirach, vol. 1 (Königsberg: Ostpreussische Zeitungs- und Verlags-Druckerei, 1874).
8
See W. Harrelson, “The Significance of ‘Last Words’ for Intertestamental Ethics,” in L. Crenshaw and J. T. Willis, eds.,
Essays in Old Testament Ethics: J. Philip Hyatt, in Memoriam (New York: KTAV, 1974), 203–14; M. de Jonge. “The Two
Great Commandments in the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs,” NovT 44 (2002): 371–92; and H. D. Slingerland, “The
Nature of Nomos (Law) within the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs,” JBL 105 (1986): 39–48. See further P. Gray, “Points
and Lines: Thematic Parallelism in the Letter of James and the Testament of Job,” NTS 50 (2004): 406–24; J. J. Collins,
“Jewish Ethics in Hellenistic Dress: The Sentences of Pseudo-Phocylides,” Jewish Wisdom in the Hellenistic Age (Louisville,
KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1997), 158–77; R. Bauckham, “The Conflict of Justice and Mercy: Attitudes to the
Damned in Apocalyptic Literature,” Apoc 1 (1990): 181–96; J. G. Gammie, “Spatial and Ethical Dualism in Jewish Wisdom
and Apocalyptic Literature,” JBL 93 (1974): 356–85.
4. THEOLOGICAL THEMES
Let us now come to the five theological themes we have identified, in order to place the ethics in
the Pseudepigrapha in particular and in Early Judaism in general in its broader context, namely,
(1) Thora and Wisdom, (2) Divine Revelation and Intervention, (3) the Origin of Evil and How to
Deal with it, (4), Human Responsibility and Society, and (5) The Love Command and the Golden
Rule. These broad axes will later allow for a more detailed overview, such as abortion, alcohol,
divorce, sexuality, celibacy, homosexuality, slavery, violence, wealth, and poverty.
4.1. Thora and Wisdom

In a number of noncanonical Jewish writings, especially in the Wisdom literature from the
Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha, we find evidence that the Thora is philosophically equated with
the Greek concept of Wisdom and that divine teaching is identified with the law of nature or of the
cosmos. In both cases, Thora/Wisdom functions as the foundation of all of the laws of society and
consists of many moral teachings for humanity. Furthermore, in connection with the philosophical
concept of sophia, we find the frequent employment of practical wisdom, specifically in the form
of practical wisdom sayings, sententiae or gnomoi, most notably narrated within the framework
of the pedagogical teachings of parents to their children or in general of an older generation to a
newer one.9 Moreover, it is also repeatedly stated that it is never enough to simply have knowledge
of what is wise, but that one should also act wisely, that is to say, approach one’s neighbor with
mercy and righteousness. This brings us to the heart of Judaism of the Hellenistic-Roman period
(and beyond that as well), namely, the centrality of piety and righteousness, nurtured by the Torah
and its later interpretations, but different from the cultic and ritual or covenantal and legal aspects
of it, and more easily translated into the Greek ethical concept of the virtues (see already Josephus,
Ag.Ap. 2 §§173–175). A popular example here is the employment of the Golden Rule, as it best
exemplifies the philosophical equation of Thora and Wisdom and at the same time is the epitome
of practical wisdom. Ethics is thus embedded in a philosophical and theological system.10
The ethical passages in a number of wisdom writings cover a whole range of principles and
injunctions, from charity (Tob 4:5–21) and the importance of studying the Torah (Ben Sira 39:1–
11); the righteousness of Israel (4 Ezra 14:28–35); the importance of keeping of the commandments
(Jub. 20:1–10) and avoiding sin (1 En. 99:11–16); the virtue of the wise (TestLevi 13:1–13); the
wisdom, righteousness, and charity of the Jews (Sibylline Oracles 3:218–47); the blessings of those
who fear the Lord (2 En. B 42:6–1); the rationality for observing the Law (4 Macc. 5:16–17; Philo,
On Dreams, 1.124–125); the Way of the Spirit of Truth (1QS 4:2–6); early Christian virtues (Luke
6:20–26; Gal 5:16–24; Jas 1:19–27); and other Jewish-Christian moral virtues (TestLevi 13:1–6;
TestJud 14:1–4; TestIs 4:1–5:3; TesDan 5:1–3; TestBen 3:1–5; TestIsaac 64), as well as rabbinic
moral values (Pirqe de Rabbi Nathan A19, bBer 61b, mAvot 2:5–8).11
9
See on this also J. M. Zurawski, “Mosaic Paideia: The Law of Moses within Philo of Aelxandria’s Model of Jewish
Education,” JSJ 48 (2017): 480–505.
10
For an introduction to the world of Biblical wisdom literature, see L. G. Perdue, Wisdom Literature: A Theological History
(Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2007).
11
See further G. W. E. Nickelsburg and M. E. Stone, eds., Early Judaism. Texts and Documents on Faith and Piety
(Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2009), 93–119.
4.2. Divine Revelation and Intervention

For most Jews in antiquity it was unquestionably true that all knowledge comes from God and that
revelation is therefore divine. However, that God would still actively intervene in history was a
view held mostly by the Prophets and their followers; for the apocalyptic thinkers and in a way also
for the Essene community there exists a second power in heaven, which was capable of influencing
mankind in a negative way: God’s adversary together with his helpers, the fallen angels. Although
few doubted that God would prevail in the end, it was indeed only at the end that God would
intervene through a Messiah. Until then, humanity would be mostly the victim of a cosmic battle,
a war between good and evil (either personified or seen as abstract powers): a clash between God
and his angels and the fallen angels and their leaders.
Although there was some room for human action and responsibility within this battle, the course
of history was in principle predetermined, namely, as a sequence of good and bad periods heading
toward a catastrophic climax. Even in the end, God would not intervene directly but send an
Anointed or Messiah together with a host of angels to speak and execute the final judgment.
With this concept in mind, human responsibility is by nature limited and ethical teaching
consists mainly of a call to follow the laws of the course of history and of the cosmos. Within
the microcosmos of the individual’s place in the family, clan, or smaller society, various wisdom
sayings and collections of teaching that had been growing throughout history and that had come
from the whole of the Ancient Near Eastern environment to enter Judaism during its postexilic
period as Wisdom theology would give someone meaning and direction in life. The authors of
the apocalyptic writings would see man’s ethics being limited in time and subject: they therefore
developed an interim ethics for a minority.12
How this apocalyptic ethics works out in detail can according to Dale Allison be illustrated
as follows.13 Whereas there may not be a specific “apocalyptic” ethic, the expectation of a near
end and a final judgment can motivate, amplify, or revise existing morality in the way Rabbi
Eliezer says in bShabbat 153a: “repent one day before your death,” and because no one knows
of the day of one’s death, it is better to always repent (see also Josephus in J.W. 2 § 157). On
the other hand, the expectation of a new world and even a new creation relativizes the existing
one considerably.
4.3. The Origin of Evil and How to Deal with It

Intrinsically connected with the preceding is the question about human responsibility, the need
to act morally wise, and the necessity of developing moral teaching, which begins with accepting
that there is at least some space for human action. This space depends on the answers given to the
question on the origin of evil and death and whether and how to deal with it.14 The Prophets of
12
As for one aspect of the much wider question of the “religion” or “theology” of Early Judaism and its various branches,
which follows from the belief in divine revelation and intervention, see G. W. E. Nickelsburg, Resurrection, Immortality, and
Eternal Life in Intertestamental Judaism and Early Christianity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2006).
13
D. C. Allison, “Apocalyptic Ethics and Behavior,” in The Oxford Handbook of Apocalyptic Literature, ed. J. J. Collins
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 295–311.
14
See as introduction to the problem the texts quoted in M. J. Larrimore, The Problem of Evil: A Reader
(Oxford: Blackwell, 2001).
Israel considered the wicked human heart to be the origin of evil, and without interruption called
people to return to the moral teaching of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. However, in the
Persian period, the apocalyptic authors, beginning with those of the early parts of 1 Enoch and
then continuing with those of 4 Ezra and 2 Baruch, blamed the fallen angels for having brought
about evil and death on earth and divided mankind into two groups: those under the influence
of these fallen angels, who were acting accordingly in a wicked manner, and those under the
influence of the angels of God acting righteously. Wise was the one who had the knowledge of
where mankind came from and belonged to and acted accordingly righteous; wicked was the one
who had no knowledge of his or her origin and acted like a marionette in the hands of the evil
powers. In all of this, the possibility of human action was seen as principally limited due to a lack
of own responsibility.
In the Hellenistic period, under the influence of both Stoic philosophy and apocalyptic thinking,
the various Jewish groups in society (especially after the Maccabean revolt of 164 bce) were
divided on questions of the interaction of fate and human responsibility. As Flavius Josephus later
reports, the Sadducees thought everything to be dependent on fate and left no room for human
action. As they also didn’t believe in a life after death, a novel belief since the second century bce,
their maxim was to enjoy life as long as possible, as there was nothing one could do to change
one’s fate.
Contrary to the Sadducees, the Essenes and Pharisees believed in the possibility of different
degrees of interaction between fate and one’s own action and responsibility, with the Pharisees
giving somewhat more room to free will and independent human action than the Essenes. For the
latter, it was important that one could know one’s fate by studying Scripture and reading it through
the lens of their eschatological and apocalyptic worldview: there was a cosmic battle going on
between the good and evil angels, who were able to influence humankind in both directions. For
the Pharisees, more than for the Essenes, it was more important to develop a strategy for making
the best of one’s place in society and acting politically prudent.
For both the Essenes and the Pharisees it was clear that one can decide which direction to take by
acting either foolishly or wisely, wickedly or righteously. Knowledge of one’s fate and one’s destiny
and teaching the right kind of action were therefore of the utmost importance. Again, for the
Pharisees there was more room for human acting than for the Essenes, who believed that, through
predestination, every man had a given portion of good and evil parts in him, and it was difficult,
though not impossible, to change one’s course in life.
4.4. Human Responsibility and Society

The idea of human responsibility, at least for the world of Ancient Israel, goes back to the authors of
the books of Moses and the Prophets and especially their Deuteronomistic editors during and after the
Babylonian exile. Ezra and Nehemiah would renew and implement this concept in postexilic Jewish
society and base every moral teaching on the Laws of Moses. The authors of 1 Enoch would question
this idea of human responsibility and point to the fallen angels as the cause of all evil, until, much later,
the Maccabees, prepared by the authors of the book of Daniel, would take a reverse turn, and again
stress the need for human action in order to defend divine teachings and especially the freedom to live
according to one’s own religion.
4.5. The Love Command and the Golden Rule

The concept of love in the Hebrew Bible (love as God’s love, love for God, love for others, erotic
love) is distinct from that of Greek thought (agape as passionate love, love of people/friends,
honor, etc.). However, in Hellenistic Judaism, efforts were made to combine the two, in that it
stresses the love of or for God and the love for others both as the faithful fulfillment of the biblical
commandments, even if this required suffering and unconditional martyrdom, as human love is the
ultimate response to God’s love.15
Furthermore, the importance of the commandment to love one’s neighbor, often linked with
philanthropy, is stressed again and again and often combined with or understood as an example
of the originally Greek Golden Rule. Finally, authors like Philo underline the importance of both
commandments for the well-being of humanity. Here it should also be noted that wisdom as such or
God’s teaching can be the object of love. However, eros is typically downplayed as being important
only to the “unchaste” Greeks.
Theologically, the ethical maxim of either the Love Command or the Golden Rule or both can be
founded on three arguments: (1) equality (because everyone as God’s creature is equal, everyone,
even the slave, deserves the same treatment and respect); (2) the importance of doing good and
being merciful (this is especially expected from those in a higher position); and (3) the call for
Imitatio Dei (as God is good and does good, one should follow this).
The Love Command, because of its universal appeal and applicability (arguments 1 and 2), would
become an important element in Jewish universalism in the late Second Temple Period. This is
witnessed for example by Philo of Alexandria, the Sententiae of Pseudo-Phocylides, and the Third
Sibylline Oracle as well as other writings. The universal interpretation of the Love Command—
together with some other more general ethical principles that were derived from a much more
detailed and specific Torah of Moses—could possibly have been influenced by the universalist ideas
of the Stoic thinkers, who were very active in Alexandria form the first century bce onward.16
In the later rabbinic literature, the first and third aspect are also found to be based on the biblical
teaching that humanity is created in the image of God (and for that reason everyone is equal) and
that one should be holy, because God is holy (Leviticus 17–26; t. Sanhedrin 9:11; Sifra, Qedushim
4:12; Genesis Rabbah 24:7), whereas the second aspect becomes a cornerstone of rabbinic ethics (see
especially Talmud Sotah 14a). Both rabbinic Judaism and early Christianity would employ all three
reasons to stress the importance of the commandments to love God and the neighbor at the same time.
In conclusion, the relation of ethics in the early Jewish writings is as diverse as the noncanonical
Jewish writings are themselves. They all witness a many-sided Early Judaism, in which many groups
with sometimes very differing opinions existed next to each other. The hermeneutical background
and practical application of ethics in their writings express not only the vividness of their dialogue
15
H.-J. Klauck, “Brotherly Love In Plutarch and in 4 Maccabees,” in Greeks, Romans, and Christians: Essays in Honor of
Abraham J. Malherbe, ed. D. L. Balch et al. (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1990), 144–56; A. Malamat, “You Shall Love Your
Neighbor as Yourself: A Case of Misinterpretation?” in Die Hebräische Bibel und ihre zweifache Nachgeschichte: Festschrift
R. Rendtorff, ed. R. Rendtorff, E. Blum, Chr. Macholz, and E. Stegemann (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1990),
111–17; and G. S. Oegema, “Love Your Neighbour as Yourself: Jesuanic or Mosaic?” Biblische Notizen: Beiträge zur
exegetischen Diskussion (Festschrift für Johann Maier zum 70 Geburtstag), BN 116, ed. M. Görg (München, 2003), 77–86.
16
M. Z. Simkovich, The Making of Jewish Universalism: From Exile to Alexandria (Lanham, MD: Lexington, 2017), 95–137.
between themselves and with society at large but also the diversity of Thora interpretation in
the Second Temple. In most if not all cases ethics functions within the realm of the “religion”
or “theology” of Early Judaism and its many branches and is interconnected with the various
conceptions of Thora as teaching and/or derived from the theological concepts Thora, wisdom,
divine revelation, divine intervention, evil, human responsibility, and love.
5. COMPARING EARLY JEWISH ETHICS WITH NEW

TESTAMENT ETHICS
New Testament and/or early Christian Ethics has a number of entry points, which would allow a
comparison with early Jewish Ethics, but they are not all equally suitable.
First of all, and rather broadly spoken, New Testament or early Christian Ethics has been
influenced by both Greek and Jewish ethics, with Greek ethics going back for an important part to
Aristotle, and Jewish ethics going back for an important part to the Bible. Between both one will
find the intermediaries of Hellenistic and Roman ethics and the ethics of Greco-Roman Judaism
respectively. To a certain extent every text is written as an adaptation and reinterpretation of
previous ethical material and discourses, but much depends on the genre, life setting, audience as
well as the innovations of the author(s).
Second, in the New Testament and Early Christian literature one can distinguish between
ethical discourses and passages with ethical contents (such as the Sermon on the Mount, the
“Sündenkataloge” in the Epistles, parables, gnomoi, adhortations, etc.) as well as older and
tradition-historically relevant ethical material (philosophical principles, worldview, examples) in
individual verses or chapters. Whereas many times there will be overlaps between genres, in which
one finds ethical discourse and ethical contents, one can also observe quite a few differences.
Third, one can distinguish between several themes and principles that characterize early Christian
ethics, such as the Double Love Commandment (Mark 12:28–34) and the Command to love your
neighbor (Matt 5:44; Luke 27–28), both in the way they developed in the early Church and in
the way they were possibly connected to the historical Jesus. An important theme is that of the
coming Kingdom of God in Matthew, which can change the principles of ethics radically: is early
Christian ethics “interim ethics” until the coming of Christ or the beginning of a new ethics of
“better righteousness” (Matt 5:20)? Luke-Acts on the other hand focuses on themes like richness and
poverty and the life of the Church, whereas Paul links the ethics of sanctification with the principle
of justification (Romans; Galatians). Obviously, to a certain extent early Christian ethics differs from
other ethics because of its thematic directions, in that it is universal (although this is also true of
some early Jewish ethics), sacrificial (true for some Greek and Jewish ethics as well), and redemptive.
Fourth, there is the level of practical ethics, that is, ethics applied to the life settings of Christian
communities, both ancient and modern, which can be applied to a whole range of life situations,
such as abortion, alcohol, divorce, sexuality, celibacy, homosexuality, slavery, violence, wealth, and
poverty. Obviously and contrary to Christian and rabbinic ethics, a present-day relevance of early
Jewish ethics is lacking due to the lack of a faith community behind its texts.
This brings us to a fifth dimension of ethics, namely its connection with a faith community, which
sees itself called to follow the ethical principles of its foundational texts. This faith community
used to exist in connection with the early Jewish texts, but ceased to exist afterward. Well-known
examples are the Jewish community in Alexandria and the Qumran community.
6. SOME THOUGHTS ON THE GREEK AND JEWISH BACKGROUND

OF NEW TESTAMENT ETHICS
As for the background of Greek ethics, Aristotle first used the term “ethics” as part of the field of
philosophy, which examines the good of the individual, and which is closely related to politics, which
examines the good of the city-state. Central to Aristotelian ethics is the importance of developing
excellence (virtue) of character (Greek ēthikē aretē) in order to achieve excellent conduct (Greek
energeia). With the right character, a man will do the right thing at the right time, and in the right
way. The highest aims of man are or ought to be living well and achieving eudaimonia, a Greek
word often translated as well-being, happiness, or “human flourishing.” There are four cardinal
virtues: prudence, temperance, fortitude, and justice, and they are all meant to be practiced and not
just known; the latter is called “prudence” or “practical wisdom” (Greek phronesis), as opposed to
the wisdom of a theoretical philosopher (Greek sophia).
As for early Christian ethics, much of Christian ethics derives from Greek and later also from
Roman ethics as well as from biblical sources. As for the latter, Christians have always considered
the Bible profitable to teach, reprove, correct, and train in righteousness. To the four cardinal
virtues of Aristotelian ethics, Christianity added the three heavenly graces: faith, hope, and charity.
As for its biblical roots, the New Testament derives all morality from the Great Commandment,
to love God with all one’s heart, mind, strength, and soul and to love one’s neighbor as oneself.
In this, Jesus was reaffirming a teaching of Deut 6:4–9 and Lev 19:18, and became himself an
example of this double commandment, with his later followers even replacing or complementing
the principle of Imitatio Dei with Imitatio Christi (see John 13:12 and the New Commandment).17
As for Jesus and the Gospels, the dominant factor in the ethical teachings of Jesus is the coming
Kingdom of God, which already now dominates the presence.18 In this sense, it differs from an
apocalyptic interim ethics but instead calls for an immediate repentance and a following of Jesus. In
his teaching Jesus critically interprets the biblical commandments and ethics with a concentration on
the Love command, often sharpening biblical teachings with a social touch but never questioning it.
In this sense it is obvious that the Hebrew Bible and its reinterpretation during the Second Temple
Period form the basis and starting point for Jesus’ own ethics.
In the Gospels we encounter the call for a “better righteousness” (Matt 5:20), which is translated
into the Golden Rule and the Double Love Command, again on the basis of biblical and Hellenistic-
Jewish examples, but with a clearly parenetic goal, as it is the community of the first followers of
Jesus, who need to be motivated. This life setting is most apparent in Luke-Acts, in which the life
of the early Church is ideally depicted as one of solidarity, common property, and caring for those
in need. The Gospel of John intrinsically ties ethics and Christology: true love is to give one’s life
for someone else, as Jesus has done for us.19
As for Paul and the Deutero-Pauline epistles the close connection between dogmatic and ethical
saying immediately draws one’s attention, especially in the dominant twin terms of justification
17
See my “Das Nächstenliebegebot im lukanischen Doppelwerk,” in The Unity of Luke Acts. Colloquium Biblicum Lovaniense
XLVII, Leuven, 29.-31. July 1998, ed. J. Verheyden, BETL 142 (Leuven: Peeters, 1999), 507–16; and G. S. Oegema, “Love
Your Neighbor as Yourself ’: Jesuanic or Mosaic?” in BN 116 (2003), 77–86.
18
F. W. Horn, “Ethik: Neues Testament,” in RGG4 (Tubingen: Mohr, 1998), 1606–10. Cf. F. J. Matera, “Ethics in the NT,”
in NIDB (Nashville, TN: Abington, 2007), vol. 2.
19
Ibid.
and sanctification with different further connections to calling, the sacrament, pneumatology,
ecclesiology, and eschatology, with a balanced tension between the presence and the future. Within
that context Paul argues for a Christian ethics in dialogue and comparison with Jewish and pagan
ethics with the command to love each other clearly in the center.
For that Paul uses the phrase “Law of Christ,” though its exact meaning and the relationship
has long been disputed. In addition to this, one finds in the letters of Paul the so-called New
Testament household codes. Furthermore, the Council of Jerusalem (see Acts 15) is traditionally
associated with the Apostolic Decree, which has been held as binding for several centuries, even
until today by the Greek Orthodox. Another aspect of early Christian ethics, which it partly
had in common with early Judaism, referred to the question how one should relate to Roman
authority and to the empire. These practical issues clearly point to the life setting of the early
Church, of which Paul was a main missionary and theologian. One can add to them questions
about slavery, marriage and sexuality, equal (or unequal) rights between men and women in the
Church, and so on.
In the Deutero-Pauline Epistles the eschatological element has made space for an
institutionalization of the life of the early church in its formulations of ethical principles in the
so-called “Haustafeln.” However, much of Christian ethics has been shaped by later authors and
theologians, starting with the Pastoral and Catholic letters and ending with such theologians as
Augustine, and much of their later thoughts are not directly found in the early Christian literature.
One important element in these writings is the decreasing expectation of the end of days and the
increasing institutionalization of the church with clear ethical consequences. There is an increased
focus on the eusebeia or the pious life of the church embedded in a civic and political context. This
could lead to a distancing itself from this world through ascetism and a focus on sacrament and the
eschaton, and on the other hand to an adaption to this world through adaption of gender roles and
customs, obedience to the state, and the acceptance of social-ethical obligations.
7. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Adamopoulo, T. A. Endurance, Greek and Early Christian: The Moral Transformation of the Greek Idea of
Endurance, from the Homeric Battlefield to the Apostle Paul. PhD diss., Brown University, 1996.
Allison, D. C. “Apocalyptic Ethics and Behavior.” Pages 295–311 in The Oxford Handbook of Apocalyptic
Literature. Edited by J. J. Collins. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014.
Bauckham, R. “The Conflict of Justice and Mercy: Attitudes to the Damned in Apocalyptic Literature.” Apoc
1 (1990): 181–96.
Belkin, S. Philo and the Oral Law; the Philonic Interpretation of Biblical Law in Relation to the Palestinian
Halakah. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1940.
Bloch, A. P. A Book of Jewish Ethical Concepts: Biblical and Postbiblical. New York: KTAV, 1984.
Burkes, S. “Wisdom and Law: Choosing Life in Ben Sira and Baruch.” JSJ 30 (1999): 253–76.
Chatelion Counet, Patrick. “Pseudepigraphy and the Petrine School: Spirit and Tradition in 1 and 2 Peter and
Jude.” HTS Theological Studies 62.2 (2006): 403–24.
Collins, J. J. “Ben Sira’s Ethics.” Pages 62–79 in Jewish Wisdom in the Hellenistic Age. Edited by John J. Collins.
Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1997.
Collins, J. J. “Jewish Ethics in Hellenistic Dress: The Sentences of Pseudo-Phocylides.” Pages 158–77 in Jewish
Wisdom in the Hellenistic Age. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1997.
Cronbach, A. “The Social Ideals of the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha.” HUCA 18 (1944): 119–56.
Gammie, J. G. “Spatial and Ethical Dualism in Jewish Wisdom and Apocalyptic Literature.” JBL 93 (1974): 356–85.
García Martínez, F., and M. Popović. Defining Identities: We, You, and the Other in the Dead Sea
Scrolls: Proceedings of the Fifth Meeting of the IOQS in Groningen. Leiden: Brill, 2008.
Gray, P. “Points and Lines: Thematic Parallelism in the Letter of James and the Testament of Job.” NTS 50
(2004): 406–24.
Hankoff, L. D., and B. Einsidler. Suicide: Theory and Clinical Aspects. Littleton: PSG, 1979.
Harrelson, W. “The Significance of ‘Last Words’ for Intertestamental Ethics.” Pages 203–14 in Essays in Old
Testament Ethics: J. Philip Hyatt, in Memoriam. Edited by L. Crenshaw and J. T. Willis. New York: KTAV, 1974.
Horn, F. W. “Ethik: Neues Testament.” RGG4 1606–10.
Hughes, H. Maldwyn. The Ethics of Jewish Apocryphal Literature. London: Robert Culley, 1909.
Jonge, M. de. “The Two Great Commandments in the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs.” NovT 44
(2002): 371–92.
Kee, H. C. “Models of Community in the Literature of Postexilic Judaism.” Pages 17–54 in Who Are the People
of God? Early Christian Models of Community. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1995.
Kenworthy, A. W. The Nature and Authority of Old Testament Wisdom Family Ethics: With Special Reference
to Proverbs and Sirach. PhD diss., University of Melbourne, 1974.
Klauck, H.-J. “Brotherly Love in Plutarch and in 4 Maccabees.” Pages 144–56 in Greeks, Romans, and
Christians; Essays in Honor of Abraham J. Malherbe. Edited by D. A. Balch, E. Ferguson, and W. A. Meeks.
Larrimore, M. J. The Problem of Evil: A Reader. Oxford: Blackwell, 2001.
Lewis, J. J. The Ethics of Judaism in the Hellenistic Period, from the Apocrypha and the Pseudepigrapha of the
Old Testament. PhD diss., University of London, 1958.
Malamat, A. “You Shall Love Your Neighbor as Yourself: A Case of Misinterpretation?” Pages 111–17 in Die
Hebräische Bibel und ihre zweifache Nachgeschichte: Festschrift R. Rendtorff. Edited by R. Rendtorff, E.
Blum, Chr. Macholz, and E. Stegemann, Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1990.
Marguerat, D. La nouvelle eschatology dans les bas-judaïsme palestinien et dans l’evangile selon Matthieu. Une
approche de la relation entre l’eschatologie et l’ethique. PhD diss., University of Lausanne, 1975.
Maston, T. B. Biblical Ethics: A Guide to the Ethical Message of the Scriptures from Genesis through Revelation.
Cleveland, OH: World, 1967.
Matera, F. J. “Ethics in the NT.” NIDB 2:328–38.
Merguet, K. H. V. Die Glaubens- und Sittenlehre des Buches Jesus Sirach. Vol. 1. Königsberg: Ostpreussische
Zeitungs- und Verlags-Druckerei, 1874.
Nickelsburg, G. W. E. Resurrection, Immortality, and Eternal Life in Intertestamental Judaism and Early
Christianity. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2006.
Nickelsburg, G. W. E., and M. E. Stone, eds. Early Judaism: Texts and Documents on Faith and Piety.
Oegema, G. S. “Das Nächstenliebegebot im lukanischen Doppelwerk.” Pages 507–16 in The Unity of Luke
Acts: Colloquium Biblicum Lovaniense XLVII, Leuven, 29.-31. July 1998. Edited by J. Verheyden. BETL
142. Leuven: Peeters, 1999.
Oegema, G. S. Early Judaism and Modern Culture: Essays on Early Jewish Literature and Theology. Grand
Oegema, G. S. “Ethics in the Noncanonical Jewish Writings.” New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible
2:321–8.
Oegema, G. S. “ ‘Love Your Neighbor as Yourself ’: Jesuanic or Mosaic?” Pages 77–86 in Biblische
Notizen: Beiträge zur exegetischen Diskussion, vol. 116: Festschrift für Johann Maier zum 70 Geburtstag.
Edited by M. Görg. München, 2003.
Oegema, G. S. “Non-Canonical Writings and Biblical Theology.” Pages 491–512 in The Changing Face of
Judaism, Christianity and Other Religions in Greco-Roman Antiquity. Edited by I. Henderson and G. S.
Oegema. Studien zu den JSHRZ 2. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2006.
Perdue, L. G. Wisdom Literature: A Theological History. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2007.
Perry, T. A. God’s Twilight Zone: Wisdom in the Hebrew Bible. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2008.
Schnabel, E. J. Law and Wisdom from Ben Sira to Paul: A Tradition Historical Enquiry into the Relation of Law,
Wisdom, and Ethics. WUNT II/16. Tübingen: Mohr, 1985.
Schürer, E. The History of the Jewish People in the Age of Jesus Christ (175 B.C.-A.D. 135). Edited by Geza
Vermes, Fergus Millar, and Matthew Black. Rev. ed. 4 vols. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1973–87.
Simkovich, M. Z. The Making of Jewish Universalism: From Exile to Alexandria. Lanham, MD: Lexington, 2017.
Slingerland, H. D. “The Nature of Nomos (Law) within the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs.” JBL 105
(1986): 39–48.
Stroumsa, G. G., and G. Stanton, eds. Tolerance and Intolerance in Early Judaism and Christianity.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008.
Travers Herford, R. Talmud and Apocrypha; a Comparative Study of the Jewish Ethical Teaching in the
Rabbinical and Non-Rabbinical Sources in the Early Centuries. New York: KTAV, 1971.
Xeravits, G. G., and J. Zsengellér. The Books of the Maccabees: History, Theology, Ideology: Papers of
the Second International Conference on the Deuteronomical Books, Pápa, Hungary, 9-11 June, 2005.
Zerbe, G. M. Non–Retaliation in Early Jewish and New Testament Texts: Ethical Themes in Social Contexts.
JSPSup 13. Leiden: Brill, 1993.
Zurawski, J. M. “Mosaic Paideia: The Law of Moses within Philo of Alexandria’s Model of Jewish Education.”
JSJ 48 (2017): 480–505.
PART THREE
Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha

CHAPTER TWENTY
The Pseudepigrapha and Second

Temple Judaism
JOHN J. COLLINS
Jim Charlesworth’s place in the history of scholarship rests securely on his accomplishment of
editing the two-volume Old Testament Pseudepigrapha.1 These volumes effectively replaced the
classic Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament by R. H. Charles,2 as the standard
collection of Jewish noncanonical literature, preserved in languages other than Hebrew and Aramaic
(and excluding the writings of Philo and Josephus). It also effectively eclipsed the useful Apocryphal
Old Testament edited by H. F. D. Sparks, which appeared about the same time.3 The more
comprehensive collection, Outside the Bible, edited by L. H. Feldman, J. Kugel, and L. Schiffman,
supplements the Charlesworth collection in many ways but does not replace it,4 while the ongoing
Old Testament Pseudepigrapha. More Noncanonical Scriptures, edited by R. Bauckham and J. R.
Davila, was conceived as a supplement and not as a competitor.5 Charlesworth’s achievement, then,
is considerable and deserves the plaudits it has received.
1. PSEUDEPIGRAPHA AS A CATEGORY
It is not difficult, of course, to cavil with various aspects of the enterprise.6 Charlesworth defined
“Pseudepigrapha” broadly, “so as to include all documents that conceivably belong to the Old
Testament Pseudepigrapha.”7 He specified:
1
J. H. Charlesworth, ed., Apocalyptic Literature and Testaments, vol. 1 of The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha (Garden
City, NY: Doubleday, 1983); and J. H. Charlesworth, ed., Expansions of the “Old Testament” and Legends, Wisdom and
Philosophical Literature, Prayers, Psalms, and Odes, Fragments of Lost Judeo-Hellenistic Works, vol. 2 of The Old Testament
Pseudepigrapha (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1985).
2
R. H. Charles, ed., The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament, 2 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1913).
3
H. F. D. Sparks, ed., The Apocryphal Old Testament (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984).
4
L. H. Feldman, J. L. Kugel, and L. H. Schiffman, eds., Outside the Bible: Ancient Jewish Writings Related to Scripture
(Philadelphia, PA: JPS, 2013).
5
R. Bauckham, J. R. Davila, and A. Panayotov, eds., Old Testament Pseudepigrapha: More Noncanonical Scriptures. Volume
1 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2013).
6
E.g., R. A. Kraft, “Combined Review: The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, Edited by James H. Charlesworth; The
Apocryphal Old Testament, Edited by H. F. D. Sparks,” in R. A. Kraft, Exploring the Scripturesque: Jewish Texts and Their
Christian Contexts, JSJSup 137 (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 93–106.
7
Charlesworth, Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, 1:xxv.
Those writings 1) that, with the exception of Ahiqar, are Jewish or Christian; 2) that are often
attributed to ideal figures in Israel’s past; 3) that customarily claim to contain God’s word or
message; 4) that frequently build upon ideas and narratives present in the Old Testament; 5) and
that almost always were composed either during the period 200 B.C. to A.D. 200 or, though
late, apparently preserve, albeit in an edited form, Jewish traditions that date from that period.8
He readily granted that this was an ad hoc description, not a definition of Pseudepigrapha as such.
Several items included are not pseudepigrapha in any sense of the word (e.g., the fragments of
Hellenistic Jewish writers); others are not attributed to Old Testament figures (the Sibylline Oracles,
Pseudo-Phocylides). But if the principles of inclusion were somewhat arbitrary, the unclarity was
offset by the practical advantage of having all these texts available.
Two criticisms, however, are worth some reflection. One is whether “Pseudepigrapha” is a
helpful category for grouping texts.9 Pseudepigraphy was widespread in the ancient world.10 The
fact that two texts are pseudepigraphic does not require that they are similar kinds of texts or
serve similar purposes. Even within the Charlesworth collection, what does the Letter of Aristeas
have in common with 1 Enoch? The range, both generic and chronological, of pseudepigraphic
material attributed to Old Testament figures, or related to the Old Testament in some way, is
greatly expanded when we consider Bauckham and Davila’s collection. What holds these corpora
together is simply that they are not part of the biblical canon. The point here is not that there is
some qualitative difference between canonical and noncanonical, or that the noncanonical material
is somehow derived from the canonical, but simply that the noncanonical material has historically
been neglected and is not so readily available. The fact that much of this material is pseudepigraphic
is incidental, and both Charlesworth and Bauckham–Davila tacitly acknowledge that by including
material that is not pseudepigraphic. In that sense, the title of the Sparks volume, the Apocryphal
Old Testament, or that of the Feldman–Kugel–Schiffman volumes, Outside the Bible, is a better
indication of the content of the collections. This does not detract from the value of collections
of lesser-known texts, whatever the title. We should hope, however, that future study will lead to
a more differentiated appreciation of the vast amount of material gathered under the heading of
Pseudepigrapha.
2. JEWISH OR CHRISTIAN?
The other criticism that has been leveled against the category Old Testament Pseudepigrapha is
more complex and far-reaching. This concerns Charlesworth’s claim that the texts in his collection
“almost always were composed either during the period 200 B.C. to A.D. 200 or, though late,
apparently preserve, albeit in an edited form, Jewish traditions that date from that period.” This
issue is complicated by two factors. One concerns the fact that all these writings were preserved by
8
Ibid.
9
On the history of the category, see A. Y. Reed, “The Modern Invention of ‘Old Testament Pseudepigrapha’,” JTS 60
(2009): 403–36; and L. DiTommaso, “The ‘Old Testament Pseudepigrapha’ as Category and Corpus,” in The Oxford Guide
to Early Jewish Texts and Traditions in Christian Transmission, ed. A. Kulik (New York: Oxford University Press, 2019),
253–79.
10
See the wide range of material reviewed in J. Frey, J. Herzer, M. Janssen, C. K. Rothschild, eds., with the cooperation of M.
Engelmann, Pseudepigraphie und Verfasserfiktion in frühchristlichen Briefen, WUNT 246 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009).
The Pseudepigrapha and Second Temple Judaism 313
Christians, often in translation, and are only found in manuscripts many centuries later than their
supposed time of origin. Many of them contain explicit Christian references, which have often been
viewed as interpolations. The other factor concerns the nature and character of Judaism in the late
Second Temple period.
Robert Kraft has argued repeatedly that texts that were preserved by Christians should be studied
first in their Christian contexts.11 “They are, first of all, ‘Christian’ materials, and recognition
of that fact is a necessary step in using them appropriately in the quest to throw light on early
Judaism. I call this the ‘default’ position—sources transmitted by way of Christian communities are
‘Christian,’ whatever else they may also prove to be.”12 There have indeed been several cases where
scholars have argued convincingly that texts that had often been taken as Jewish with interpolations
should rather be understood as Christian compositions. The showcase example is the Testaments of
the Twelve Patriarchs, where the argument for Christian provenance was made by Marinus de Jonge
already in 1953.13 Other plausible cases are The Lives of the Prophets,14 The Ascension of Isaiah,15
and The Life of Adam and Eve.16 Other arguments along these lines, concerning 2 Baruch17 and
Joseph and Aseneth,18 have been unpersuasive.
Kraft himself has done little to document his default position by case studies. While Kraft’s
student, Martha Himmelfarb, has claimed that Kraft’s observations “have come to seem obvious
and commonsensical,”19 not all scholars agree. Richard Bauckham has argued cogently that the
oldest manuscripts of a given work are still likely to be far removed from the original time and place
of composition, and has also questioned the value of having a default position at all.20 If Kraft’s
default position were to be adopted, the Bible in its Greek versions would be regarded first of all
as Christian. Whether such works are Christian or Jewish must be decided on the merits of each
individual case. Some Pseudepigrapha in the name of figures known from the Hebrew Bible are
demonstrably Jewish (e.g., several sections of 1 Enoch). Some are better understood as Christian
compositions, even if they incorporate Jewish traditions (The Testaments). But the provenance of
many texts remains open to dispute. The case for Christian composition of the Testaments of the
11
R. A. Kraft, “The Pseudepigrapha in Christianity,” in R. A. Karft, Exploring the Scripturesque: Jewish Texts and Their
Christian Contexts, JSJSup 137 (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 3–33; and “The Pseudepigrapha in Christianity Revisited,” in R. A.
Kraft, Exploring the Scripturesque: Jewish Texts and Their Christian Contexts, JSJSup 137 (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 35–60.
12
Kraft, “The Pseudepigrapha and Christianity, Revisited,” 36.
13
M. de Jonge, The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs: A Study of Their Text, Composition, and Origin (Assen: van Gorcum,
1953); and M. de Jonge, Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament as Part of Christian Literature: The Case of the Testaments of
the Twelve Patriarchs and the Greek Life of Adam and Eve (Leiden: Brill, 2003).
14
D. Satran, Biblical Prophets in Byzantine Palestine: Reassessing the Lives of the Prophets, SVTP 11 (Leiden: Brill, 1995).
15
E. Norelli, Ascension du Prophète Isaïe (Turnhout: Brepols, 1993).
16
M. de Jonge and J. Tromp, The Life of Adam and Eve and Related Literature (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997).
17
R. Nir, The Destruction of Jerusalem and the Idea of Redemption in the Syriac Apocalypse of Baruch (Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2003).
18
R. S. Kraemer, When Aseneth Met Joseph: A Late Antique Tale of the Biblical Patriarch and His Egyptian Wife, Reconsidered
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998); and R. Nir, Joseph and Aseneth: A Christian Book (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix,
2012). See my critique of Kraemer, “Joseph and Aseneth: Jewish or Christian?” in Jewish Cult and Hellenistic Culture: Essays
on the Jewish Encounter with Hellenism and Roman Rule, JSJSup 100 (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 112–27, and the criticism of
Kraemer by M. Vogel, “Einfuhrung in die Schrift,” in Joseph und Aseneth, ed. E. Reinmuth, Scripta Antiquitatis Posterioris
ad Ethicam Religionemque Pertinentia XV (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009), 11–19.
19
M. Himmelfarb, “3 Baruch Revisited: Jewish or Christian Composition, and Why It Matters,” ZAC/JAC 20 (2016): 41–
62 at 44.
20
R. J. Bauckham, “The Continuing Quest for the Provenance of Old Testament Pseudepigrapha,” in The Pseudepigrapha
and Christian Origins, ed. G. S. Oegema and J. H. Charlesworth (London: T&T Clark, 2008), 9–29, esp. 23.
Twelve Patriarchs has been persuasive because the explicitly Christian elements in that work are
very extensive. Much more difficult to judge is whether a composition that lacks any distinctively
Christian features may nonetheless be Christian. The task of distinguishing Jewish and Christian
compositions has been further complicated in recent decades by the recognition that the parting of
the ways was neither as absolute nor as early as had previously been supposed.21 Some followers
of Jesus remained attached to Jewish traditions and may have thought of themselves as Jewish.
Nonetheless, the acknowledgment of Jesus as the Christ or Messiah remains a decisive point of
difference. Since most Christian literature refers explicitly to Christ, the traditional tendency has
been to assume that any text that does not refer to Christ explicitly is Jewish, by default. Since
many scholars now object to that tendency, however, the focus has shifted to looking for positive
indications of Jewish authorship.
The difficulty of formulating positive criteria of Jewish authorship lies in the fact that such
criteria require us to posit norms for authentic Judaism, when there do not seem to have been any
such norms that were universally accepted. To be sure, there is plenty of evidence that some Jews
regarded others as inauthentic, or falling outside the pale. For Daniel and 1–2 Maccabees, the
Hellenizers, led by Jason and Menelaos, were “violators of the covenant” (Dan 11:30), but it is not
apparent that they considered themselves anything but Jewish. The covenanters known from the
Scrolls thought that most Jews of their time were led astray by Belial (CD iv 15–160).
The most thorough attempt to date to formulate positive criteria for Jewish authorship is that
of James R. Davila. Davila grants that “no satisfactory definition of Judaism based on a sine qua
non or core essence can be formulated.”22 Instead, he favors a “polythetic approach.” Rather
than attempting to find an essence common to every member, it is based on a broad grouping
of characteristics or properties. A member of the class being defined must have many of these
characteristics, but no single characteristic is necessarily possessed by every member.23
He offers a list of “signature features,” which need not all be present but which provide reason
to see a work as Jewish:24
● Substantial Jewish content, and evidence of a pre-Christian date
● Compelling evidence that a work was translated from Hebrew
● Sympathetic concern with the Jewish ritual cult
● Sympathetic concern with Jewish Law and Halakah
● Concern with Jewish national interests
These “signature features” are helpful, but it is important to keep in mind that no single characteristic
is decisive. Some Christians were surely Torah-observant, while a lack of concern for Halakah
21
A. H. Becker and A. Y. Reed, eds., The Ways That Never Parted: Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle
Ages (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003); and D. Boyarin, Border Lines: The Partition of Judeo-Christianity (Berkeley: University
of California Press, 2004).
22
J. R. Davila, The Provenance of the Pseudepigrapha: Jewish, Christian, or Other?, JSJSup 105 (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 19.
23
Ibid.
24
Ibid., 65.
would disqualify most of the Enoch literature from being regarded as Jewish, even in cases where
manuscripts were found at Qumran.25
The main controversy involving the Pseudepigrapha, however, has concerned the relative lack
of signature features of Jewish authorship, such as those outlined by Davila. With few exceptions,
the writings transmitted by Christians provide a picture of late Second Temple Judaism that is very
different from the Judaism of the rabbis, with much less emphasis on the ritual and purity laws. The
first scholar to offer a reconstruction of Jewish religion based primarily on the Pseudepigrapha was
Wilhelm Bousset, whose Religion des Judentums im neutestamentlichen Zeitalter first appeared in
1903.26 It was greeted by a storm of criticism from Jewish scholars.27 Felix Perles praised Bousset’s
treatment of the piety of apocalyptic and Hellenistic Judaism but objected to the prominence
accorded to this material and the lack of a systematic description of “normative Judaism,” as
represented by rabbinic literature. Bousset, he claimed, had missed the “center of the Jewish
religion.”28 Others objected to “this dogmatic reduction of Judaism to a ‘praeparatio evangelica’.”29
Bousset’s critics received weighty support from the Christian scholar George Foot Moore, whose
own account of ancient Judaism accorded primacy to the rabbinic writings.30
The censure which Jewish scholars have unanimously passed on Die Religion des Judentums
is that the author uses as his primary sources almost exclusively the writings commonly called
Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha, with an especial penchant for the apocalypses; and only
secondarily, and almost casually the writings which represent the acknowledged and authoritative
teachings of the school and the more popular instruction of the synagogue.31
Moore’s position encountered criticism of its own, first from his contemporary F. C. Porter,32
who questioned whether the rabbinic sources could be projected back to the New Testament era,
and later from no less a figure than Jacob Neusner, who could hardly be accused of Christian
bias. Neusner, with all due appreciation for Moore’s goodwill, commented: “Moore’s is to begin
with not really a work in the history of religions at all. … His research is into theology. It is
organized in theological categories, not differentiated by historical periods at all.”33 The debate as
to the validity of a portrait of (a segment of) Judaism based on writings transmitted by Christians
has, however, persisted. There have always been some Jewish scholars who refuse to accept the
Pseudepigrapha as “really Jewish,” for reasons similar to those advanced by Moore,34 or insisted
25
J. J. Collins, The Invention of Judaism: Torah and Jewish Identity from Deuteronomy to Paul (Oakland: University of
California Press, 2017), 70–6.
26
W. Bousset, Die Religion des Judentums im neutestamentlichen Zeitalter (Berlin: Reuther und Reichard, 1903).
27
See my essay, “Early Judaism in Modern Scholarship,” in Early Judaism. A Comprehensive Overview, ed. J. J. Collins and
D. C. Harlow (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2012), 1–29.
28
F. Perles, Bousset’s “Religion des Judentums im neutestamentlichen Zeitalter” kritisch untersucht (Berlin: Peiser,
1903), 22–3.
29
C. Wiese, Challenging Colonial Discourse: Jewish Studies and Protestant Theology in Wilhelmine Germany (Leiden: Brill,
2005), 180.
30
G. F. Moore, Judaism in the First Centuries of the Christian Era, 3 vols. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press,
1927–30; repr. New York: Schocken, 1971).
31
G. F. Moore, “Christian Writers on Judaism,” HTR 14 (1921): 197–254 at 243.
32
F. C. Porter, review of Judaism in the First Centuries of the Christian Era: The Age of the Tannaim, by G. F. Moore, Journal
of Religion 8 (1928): 30–62.
33
J. Neusner, Judaism: The Evidence of the Mishnah (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981), 7.
34
E.g., J. Efron, Studies on the Hasmonean Period (Leiden: Brill, 1987).
that they be interpreted in conformity with “essential biblical doctrines.”35 Recently, Martha
Himmelfarb has declared herself “suspicious of a picture of diaspora Judaism or even a major
strand of diaspora Judaism as lacking in concern for the markers of Jewish particularism.”36 She
suspects that scholars are motivated by “the search for a usable past for Christianity, whether in
purely scholarly or theological terms,”37 and accuses them of construing Hellenistic Judaism, in
particular, as praeparatio evangelii.38
3. WRITINGS FROM THE GREEK DIASPORA

The debate is most acute about writings composed in Greek, mostly, but not exclusively, from the
Egyptian Diaspora. Most of those writings address questions of ethics and usually refer in some
way to the Torah. They thus satisfy Davila’s criterion of “sympathetic concern with Jewish Law.”
With few exceptions, however, they tend to bypass the distinctive Jewish laws and dwell on the
importance of monotheism and matters of social and sexual morality.39 We do not find in the
Diaspora the kind of detailed halakic discussions that are characteristic of the Dead Sea Scrolls in
4QMMT or the Damascus Document.40
A few examples may suffice. Sibylline Oracle 3 criticizes the Romans for “unjust haughtiness,”
homosexuality, and greed (3:182–190).41 The Greeks are condemned for idolatry (3:545–555) and
several people are denounced for homosexuality and idolatry, and for “transgressing the law of the
immortal God, which they transgressed” (3:599–600). The positive requirements of the Sibyl are
stated in 3:762–766:
But urge on your minds in your breasts and shun unlawful worship. Worship the Living One.
Avoid adultery and indiscriminate intercourse with males. Rear your own offspring, and do not
kill it, for the Immortal is angry at whoever commits these sins.
This passage is ostensibly addressed to Gentiles, and this may account for the lack of reference
to distinctive Jewish practices such as Sabbath and circumcision. Nonetheless, the passage shows
what the author regarded as the significant differences between Jews and Gentiles. The sibyl
refers explicitly to the Law. She praises the Jews for their righteousness and concern for the poor,
“fulfilling the word of the great God, the hymn of the Law” (3:246). This is explicitly identified
with the Law given to Moses on Mount Sinai (3:255–258). Only the Jews observe the Law (3:597–
598). They are subject to punishment if they fail to observe it, as seen from the Babylonian Exile.
Yet the Law also applies to Gentiles. The sibyl seems to assume that the basic requirements of the
35
P. Heger, Challenges to Conventional Opinions on Qumran and Enoch Issues, STDJ 100 (Leiden: Brill, 2012).
36
Himmelfarb, “3 Baruch Revisited,” 52.
37
Ibid., 51.
38
M. Himmelfarb, “Second Temple Literature Outside the Canon,” in Early Judaism: New Insights and Scholarship, ed. F.
E. Greenspahn (New York: New York University Press, 2018), 29–51 at 46.
39
J. J. Collins, Between Athens and Jerusalem: Jewish Identity in the Hellenistic Diaspora, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids,
MI: Eerdmans, 2000), 155–85 (“The Common Ethic”).
40
Collins, The Invention of Judaism, 135–42.
41
J. J. Collins (trans.), “Sibylline Oracles,” in Apocalyptic Literature and Testaments, vol. 1 of The Old Testament
Pseudepigrapha, ed. J. H. Charlesworth (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1983), 354–80.
Law are known to everyone by nature. This assumption is also found in Wisdom of Solomon 13 and
Romans 1.42 The basic sins are idolatry and deviant sexual practices. While the sibyl insists that the
Law of Moses is the true law, she treats it in practice as natural law. Eventually, God “will put in
effect a common law for men throughout the whole earth” (Sib. Or. 3:757–758). The vision of the
ideal eschatological state is Judeocentric. The other nations are called on to send their offerings to
the temple and to ponder the Law of the Most High God (Sib. Or. 3:718–719). It is not apparent,
however, that they are expected to convert to Judaism or to observe the ritual commandments.
Another illustration is provided by the Sentences of Pseudo-Phocylides.43 As in the case of the Sibylline
Oracles, this work is presented as that of a pagan author. Its Jewish origin is betrayed only by a few
sayings that clearly reflect the Septuagint (e.g., v. 140: “If a beast of your enemy falls on the way, help
it to rise” cf. Exod 23:5). Verses 3–8 have been construed as a summary of the Decalogue.44 There are
exhortations to justice in vv. 9–21, with strong biblical overtones. But there is no mention of sabbath or
circumcision, and the Law of Moses is not explicitly acknowledged. Again, we might suppose that the
omissions are required by the pseudonymous attribution to a Greek poet. Yet the sayings have much in
common with the summaries of the Law in the Hypothetica 7.1–9 (= Eusebius, Praep. ev. 8.6.1–7.20),
which is usually attributed to Philo,45 and Josephus’s Ag. Ap. 2.190–219.46 In addition to monotheism,
all three emphasize sexual matters (adultery, homosexuality, rape of a virgin, abortion). Philo and
Pseudo-Phocylides forbid emasculation. Josephus and Pseudo-Phocylides forbid sexual relations with a
pregnant woman. The common material extends to the duties of parents and children, husband and
wife, the young and their elders, and the burial of the dead. Conspicuously lacking are discussions of
the most distinctive practices of Judaism such as circumcision and Sabbath. There is a discussion of the
Sabbath in Hypoth. 7.10, after the epitome of the laws. But if these three authors shared a common
source, as seems likely, the discussion of the Sabbath does not seem to have been part of it.
Not everything in these summaries of the Law is actually derived from the Torah.47 Non-biblical
injunctions include the obligation to give fire and running water to those who need them, not to
deny burial or disturb the place of the dead. Some of these laws correspond to unwritten laws
attributed to Buzyges, a legendary Attic hero.48 Some prohibitions, such as abortion and exposure
of children, are quite typical of Hellenistic Jewish literature. Some items, such as the concern for
nesting birds, have a clear biblical basis.49
42
Wis 13:5 says that God can be known by analogy from the greatness and beauty of creation. See my essay, “Natural Theology
and Biblical Tradition: The Case of Hellenistic Judaism,” in my book, Encounters with Biblical Theology (Minneapolis,
MN: Fortress Press, 2005), 117–26. On Romans 1, see J. A. Fitzmyer, Romans, AB 33 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1992),
269–90.
43
P. W. van der Horst, The Sentences of Pseudo-Phocylides (Leiden: Brill, 1978); W. T. Wilson, The Sentences of Pseudo-
Phocylides, CEJL (Berlin: Gruyter, 2005).
44
Van der Horst, Sentences, 89.
45
The attribution is challenged by J. M. G. Barclay, Against Apion: Translation and Commentary, Flavius Josephus.
Translation and Commentary 10 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 354.
46
K.-W. Niebuhr, Gesetz und Paränese: Katechismusartige Weisungreihen in der frühjüdischen Literatur, WUNT 2/28
(Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987), 6–72; Barclay, Against Apion, 353–58; and G. E. Sterling, “Universalizing the Particular.
Natural Law in Second Temple Jewish Ethics,” SPA 15 (2003): 64–80, esp. 69–73.
47
Barclay, Against Apion, 358.
48
On Buzyges, see L. Schmidt, Die Ethik der alten Griechen (Berlin: Hertz, 1882), 2:278–79; and H. Bolkenstein,
Wohltätigkeit im vorchristlichen Altertum (Utrecht: Oosthoek, 1939), 69–70.
49
Pseudo-Phocylides 84–85 and Deut 22:6.
Gregory Sterling has offered an interesting comparison between the ways the Law is construed
in the literature from the Diaspora and in the Dead Sea Scrolls.50 On the one hand, he finds
that some of the same texts figure prominently in both corpora, especially Leviticus 19–20 and
Deuteronomy 22, all of which deal with sexual issues. He also notes some shared laws that do
not have a direct biblical base, such as restrictions on lawful sexual intercourse, although it is
clear that the rationale for the restriction was not always the same. Despite these shared features,
however, the understanding of the Law in the two corpora was very different. While both found
ways to extend the Law to address new situations, they did so differently. The sectarians of the
Scrolls relied on authoritative interpretations or inspired exegesis. Some things were revealed to
the community that were hidden even from the rest of Israel. The Diaspora authors, in contrast,
are at pains to show that distinctive Jewish laws are reasonable. Philo explains that circumcision
symbolizes the excision of pleasure and the rejection of conceit.51 The Letter of Aristeas insists that
the food laws are not due to obsessive concern with particular animals but rather with what they
symbolize.52
We might add another notable difference. The sectarian authors were greatly concerned with
the details of the Law, most conspicuously in 4QMMT. The writers from the Diaspora, in contrast,
focus on broader issues. “Among the vast number of particular truths and principles,” writes Philo,
“there stand out practically high above the others two main heads: one of duty to God as shown
by piety and holiness, one of duty to men as shown by humanity and justice.”53 The distinction of
underlying principles was not necessarily peculiar to Diaspora Judaism, but it stands in contrast to
the kind of detailed halakic exegesis that we find in the Dead Sea Scrolls.
We should not, of course, conclude that the Sabbath and circumcision were not important in
the Hellenistic Diaspora. Philo was critical of those “who regarding laws in their literal sense
in the light of symbols belonging to the intellect, are over punctilious about the latter, while
treating the former with easy-going neglect,”54 and he expounds the laws in detail in four books
in the Special Laws. The Letter of Aristeas clearly presupposes the practice of the food laws,
although it explains them in allegorical terms. Joseph and Aseneth celebrates the possibility of
rapprochement between Jew and Gentile, but Joseph does not compromise on kashrut.55 Even
Josephus boasts:
The masses have long since shown a keen desire to adopt our religious observances; and there
is not one city, Greek or barbarian, not a single nation, to which our custom of abstaining from
work on the seventh day has not spread, and where fasts and the lighting of lamps and many of
our prohibitions in the matter of food are not observed.56
50
G. E. Sterling, “Was There a Common Ethic in Second Temple Judaism?” in Sapiential Perspectives: Wisdom Literature in
Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. J. J. Collins, G. E. Sterling, and R. Clements, STDJ 51 (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 171–94.
51
Spec Leg 1.4–8.
52
B. G. Wright, The Letter of Aristeas: “Aristeas to Philocrates” or “On the Translation of the Law of the Jews”, CEJL
(Berlin: Gruyter, 2015), 246–313.
53
Spec. 2.62–63 (282). Cf. Mos 2.216 (168). Cf. K. Berger, Die Gesetzauslegung Jesu, WMANT 40 (Neukirchen-
Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1972), 137–76.
54
Philo, Migr. 89–93.
55
See Collins, The Invention of Judaism, 150–8.
56
Ag. Ap. 2.282.
Nonetheless, the tendency in the literature to emphasize the broader concerns of the Law, and to
focus on matters that might also be of concern to Gentiles, is noteworthy.
The suspicion lingers that this literature provides a picture of Judaism for non-Jews.57 Some
of it ostensibly addresses Greeks. For a long time it was regarded as missionary or apologetic
literature. Victor Tcherikover overturned that view of the literature in a famous article published
in 1956, in which he argued that this literature was addressed to Jews rather than to Gentiles.58
Subsequent scholarship has discredited the notion that there was any sustained Jewish proselytism
in the Hellenistic or early Roman period.59 The question of apologetics is somewhat more subtle.
Much of the Diaspora literature has an apologetic quality insofar as it tries to show that Judaism
was really in accordance with the best of Greek culture.60 This need not imply any neglect of
particular commandments, but it undeniably presents a very different image of Judaism from what
we find in the contemporary literature from the land of Israel.
Himmelfarb protests that our picture of Diaspora Judaism depends on the texts we attribute to
it, and that several works that have been used to construct this profile of Jewish ethical monotheism,
such as the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, Testament of Job, and Testament of Abraham, are of
disputed provenance.61 But even if we leave these works aside, the picture is not greatly altered. It
holds true for such works as the Wisdom of Solomon, the Third Sibylline Oracle, and the Letter of
Aristeas, and for the summaries of the Law in Pseudo-Phocylides, Hypothetica 7.1–9, and Josephus’s
Ag. Ap. 2.190–219, and indeed for Philo, even though his allegiance to literal observance and to
Jewish particularism is not in doubt.62
We have no way of measuring how widely or well the Law was observed in the Egyptian Diaspora.
I would assume that observance was the norm in Jewish communities. But there were evidently
some Jews in Alexandria who did not feel bound by literal observance. In a famous passage in his
treatise on The Migration of Abraham, Philo writes:
There are some who, regarding laws in their literal sense in the light of symbols of matters
belonging to the intellect, are overpunctilious about the latter, while treating the former with
easygoing neglect. Such men I for my part should blame for handling the matter in too easy and
off-hand a manner: they ought to have given careful attention to both aims, to a more full and
exact investigation of what is not seen and in what is seen to be stewards without reproach.63
57
See, e.g., C. Gerber, Ein Bild des Judentums für Nichtjuden von Flavius Josephus: Untersuchungen zu seiner Schrift Contra
Apionem, AGJU 40 (Leiden: Brill, 1997).
58
V. Tcherikover, “Jewish Apologetic Literature Reconsidered,” Eos 48 (1950): 169–93.
59
M. Goodman, Mission and Conversion: Proselytizing in the Religious History of the Roman Empire (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1994). L. H. Feldman, Jew and Gentile in the Ancient World (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993),
288–341, is exceptional among recent scholars in arguing for extensive proselytism.
60
J. J. Collins, “Hellenistic Judaism in Recent Scholarship,” in Jewish Cult and Hellenistic Culture: Essays on the Jewish
Encounter with Hellenism and Roman Rule, JSJSup 100 (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 1–20. See also J. M. G. Barclay, “Apologetics
in the Jewish Diaspora,” in Jews in the Hellenistic and Roman Cities, ed. J. R. Bartlett (London: Routledge, 2002), 129–48.
61
Himmelfarb, “3 Baruch Revisited,” 52.
62
Davila, The Provenance of the Pseudepigrapha, 225, finds nothing in the Wisdom of Solomon that prohibits or even renders
unlikely its having been written by a gentile Christian in the second half of the first century ce. This position can only be
described as eccentric.
63
Philo, Migr. 89.
Philo himself was observant, but he does not say that those he would blame were not Jews, or
not “real Jews.” There was evidently some range of opinion and practice in the Jewish communities
in Egypt.
4. PRAEPARATIO EVANGELII?
Christianity, especially Pauline Christianity, turned away from strict observance of the Law,
especially its ritual aspects. It has been argued with some plausibility that the issue between Paul
and his opponents was to a large degree a difference between two Jewish ways of looking at the
Law.64 When Paul gives his instructions to the Thessalonians (1 Thess 4:2–12), he focuses on a few
ethical issues (avoiding sexual immorality, loving the brethren, behaving properly toward outsiders)
in a way that resembles the common ethic of Hellenistic Judaism. But Paul also claimed to have a
higher revelation, based on the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. In that respect his gospel was
radically discontinuous with the ethic of Hellenistic Judaism.65 But Paul did not develop his teaching
in a vacuum. He was a Diaspora Jew, and we should expect that his teaching was continuous with
that of his contemporary coreligionists to some degree. The attempt to disqualify an aspect of
Hellenistic Judaism that appealed to Christians on the grounds that praeparatio evangelica must be
a Christian construct is just as historically unrealistic as would be an attempt to deny that rabbinic
Judaism had deep roots in the Second Temple period, as we now see from the writings found at
Qumran.
And herein, I submit, lies the importance of the Pseudepigrapha or, more accurately, of the writings
related to the Old Testament that were preserved not by Jews but by Christians. They enable us to
retrieve an aspect of Judaism in the Second Temple period that was not preserved by the rabbis, and
that some latter-day apologists would still deny. Second Temple Judaism was the common ground
from which both rabbinic Judaism and Christianity developed. The Pseudepigrapha must be used
with caution, with an eye on the impact of Christian transmission, and some Pseudepigrapha cannot
be used to reconstruct Second Temple Judaism at all. But many of them can, and they can serve as
a rich source of insight into the common roots of Judaism and Christianity.
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Davila, J. R. The Provenance of the Pseudepigrapha: Jewish, Christian, or Other? JSJSup 105. Leiden: Brill, 2005.
DiTommaso, L. “The ‘Old Testament Pseudepigrapha’ as Category and Corpus.” Pages 253–79 in The Oxford
Guide to Early Jewish Texts and Traditions in Christian Transmission. Edited by A. Kulik. New York: Oxford
Efron, J. Studies on the Hasmonean Period. Leiden: Brill, 1987.
Feldman, L. H. Jew and Gentile in the Ancient World. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993.
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Scripture. Philadelphia, PA: JPS, 2013.
Fitzmyer, J. A. Romans. AB 33. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1992.
Frey, J., et al., eds., with the cooperation of M. Engelmann. Pseudepigraphie und Verfasserfiktion in
frühchristlichen Briefen. WUNT 246. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009.
Gerber, C. Ein Bild des Judentums für Nichtjuden von Flavius Josephus: Untersuchungen zu seiner Schrift
Contra Apionem. AGJU 40. Leiden: Brill, 1997.
Goodman, M. Mission and Conversion: Proselytizing in the Religious History of the Roman Empire.
Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994.
Heger, P. Challenges to Conventional Opinions on Qumran and Enoch Issues. STDJ 100. Leiden: Brill, 2012.
Himmelfarb, M. “3 Baruch Revisited: Jewish or Christian Composition, and Why It Matters.” ZAC/JAC 20
(2016): 41–62.
Himmelfarb, M. “Second Temple Literature Outside the Canon.” Pages 29–51 in Early Judaism: New Insights
and Scholarship. Edited by F. E. Greenspahn. New York: New York University Press, 2018.
Jonge, M. de. Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament as Part of Christian Literature: The Case of the Testaments
of the Twelve Patriarchs and the Greek Life of Adam and Eve. Leiden: Brill, 2003.
Jonge, M. de. The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs: A Study of their Text, Composition, and Origin.
Assen: van Gorcum, 1953.
Jonge, M. de, and J. Tromp. The Life of Adam and Eve and Related Literature. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic
Press, 1997.
Kraemer, R. S. When Aseneth Met Joseph: A Late Antique Tale of the Biblical Patriarch and His Egyptian Wife,
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Moore, G. F. “Christian Writers on Judaism.” HTR 14 (1921): 197–254.
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GA: SBL, 2003.
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CEJL. Berlin: Gruyter, 2015.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Enoch’s Prayer for Rescue from

the Flood: 1 Enoch 83–84, with
a New Translation and Notes
LOREN T. STUCKENBRUCK
PART A
1. INTRODUCTION
A much-overlooked part of the early Enoch tradition is found in the first part of the Book of
Dreams (1 Enoch 83–84). It is one of several parts of what Western scholars call “1 Enoch” that has
only survived in Ge‘ez (along with 1 Enoch 108 and, more famously, chs. 37–71). The character
of the prayer in this section constitutes the focus of the present essay, which shall also furnish a
critical translation that incorporates several of the most important manuscript witnesses that have
more recently come to light. Frequently referred to merely as the “first dream vision,” 1 Enoch
chs. 83–84 have received comparatively little scholarly attention, especially given the overriding
interest in the “second dream vision” or Animal Apocalypse (chs. 85–90) that it precedes.1
In its present form, the text of 1 Enoch links both visions in the Book of Dreams to one another.
Already at the beginning of 1 Enoch 83 the writer (assumed to be Enoch, as he is speaking to his
son Methuselah) announces that he will recount “two visions,” the one of them “not like the other”
(83:1). While both visions are set in a time before Enoch took a wife, the text tradition specifies
that Enoch’s first vision occurred during the time he was learning to write, while the second came
“before I took your mother” (83:2). Likewise, at the beginning of the second vision, the text has
Enoch repeat that it occurred “before I took your mother” (85:3).
I am grateful to James H. Charlesworth, who in 1984 first introduced me to the importance of studying the early Enoch
tradition and inspired me to devote research on it in its various forms.
1
A number of monograph-length studies have been devoted to 1 Enoch 85–90; cf. P. A. Tiller, A Commentary on the Animal
Apocalypse of 1 Enoch, SBLEJL 4 (Atlanta, GA: SBL Press, 1993); D. Bryan, Cosmos, Chaos, and the Kosher Mentality,
JSPSS 12 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995); D. Assefa, L’Apocalypse des animaux (1 Hen 85–90): une propaganda
militaire? JSJSS 120 (Leiden: Brill, 2007); D. C. Olson, A New Reading of the Animal Apocalypse of 1 Enoch: “All Nations
Shall Be Blessed,” SVTP 24 (Leiden: Brill, 2013). See also G. Dibley’s dissertation, “Abraham’s Uncircumcised Children: The
Enochic Precedent for Paul’s Paradoxical Claim in Galatians 3:29” (PhD diss., University of California at Berkeley and
Graduate Theological Union, 2013).
Despite the narrative interlinking of the two visions, it is not clear that they were originally
written together by the same author or even at the same time. Thus the statement that the one
is “not like the other” stems from the attempt by a redactor to explain the combination of these
two visions, which are so very different from one another in character, into a shared literary
context. Whereas the second vision, as is well known, consists of a review of sacred history from
the beginning to the imminent future drawing on animal images to depict most of the protagonists
in the story, the first largely takes the form of a vision of the cosmos followed by a prayer. Beyond
the difference in focus and form, the visions are distinguishable in terms of textual attestation. In
addition to being fully preserved in Ge‘ez, the Animal Vision is also extant in several small Greek
fragments,2 as well as in four Aramaic manuscripts from the Dead Sea Scrolls.3
The textual attestation is different for the first dream vision, for which, as mentioned, our only
evidence comes from the Ge‘ez manuscript tradition. Before adopting this stance as a point of
departure, we should note Michael A. Knibb’s suggestion that the prayer in 1 En. 84:3–6 could
overlap with and perhaps belong to the text of two Aramaic fragments in Herodian script assigned
to the Book of Giants (at 4Q203 9 and 10).4 There are indeed several small correspondences—these
are, for completeness sake, included in the translation in “Part B” below—that could be compared
between these fragments and 84:3–6:
84:2: “[ble]ssed”—4Q203 9.3;
84:2: “the rule of your greatness”—4Q203 9.6;
84:3: “all mysteries [you] kno[w]‌”—4Q203 9.3, v. 3 “you know everything”;
84:3: “nothing has defeated/is too strong for you”—4Q203 9.4; and
84:4 (cf. v. 5): “and now” (bis)—4Q203 9.5, 10.1: “and now, [the] h[oly ones of heaven(?)”
The evidence, however, does not support a literary identification of these texts. As the listing of
shared phrases above indicates, the similarities between the Aramaic fragments and the Ge‘ez do
not occur in the same sequence. Unless a number of adjustments are made in one or the other
version, one is better left to note the parallels and to consider these as based on an underlying
common tradition or as reflecting a widely circulating prayer tradition composed of stockmotifs.
Thus, in terms of accessing an earliest reconstructable text, we are in no other position than to
depend on the extant Ge‘ez materials, even though the earliest evidence stems from as late as the
end of the fourteenth century (see further below). With the nature of the text-tradition in focus, we
are in a position to consider the special character of 1 Enoch chs. 83 and 84.5
2
See the publications by M. Gitlbauer, “Die Überreste griechischer Tychygraphie im Codex Vaticanus Graecus 1809, I,”
in Denkschriften der kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien, Philosophisch-Historische Classe 28 (Wien: Aus
der Kaiserlich-Königlichen Hof- und Staatsdruckerei, 1878), 1–110 (1 En. 89:42–49); J. T. Milik, “Fragments grec du
livre d’Hénoch (P. Oxy. and xvii 2069),” ChrÉgy 46 (1971): 321–43; R. Chesnutt, “Oxyrhynchus Papyrus 2069 and the
Compositional History of 1 Enoch,” JBL 129 (2010): 485–505 (to 1 En. 85:10–86:2; 87:1–3).
3
So 4Q204 (4QEnc), 4Q205 (4QEnd), 4Q206 (4QEne), and 4Q207 (4QEnf); cf. J. T. Milik, The Books of Enoch: Aramaic
Fragments from Qumrân Cave 4 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1976), 178–245.
4
M. A. Knibb, The Ethiopic Book of Enoch, 2 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1978), 2.10, and 193–5; cf. further L. T.
Stuckenbruck, 1 Enoch 91-108, CEJL (Berlin: Gruyter, 2007), 11–12.
5
The comments below cannot offer a thoroughgoing study of the text as a whole in its tradition-historical context. At the
same time, they may be taken as indicative of the need for a full commentary-length treatment that analyzes 1 Enoch 83–84
in its right, that is, apart from the Animal Apocalypse.
Enoch’s Prayer for Rescue from the Flood 325
Within 1 Enoch as a whole, the first part of the Book of Dreams stands out in two main ways. First,
we know that it does not simply consist of a vision framed by the briefest of narrative. Unlike the
Animal Apocalypse, which—except for its frame—is wholly presented as a vision, in chs. 83 and 84
Enoch’s vision is limited to 83:3–4, followed by an initial interpretation and instruction on what to
do in response by Enoch’s grandfather Malal’el in 83:7–8. Following his brief night vision, the text
narrates that Enoch goes outside, where he has another vision, though this time it is one based on
observation: under the heavens Enoch looks at the heavenly bodies and how they move in obedience
to the God’s instruction (especially the sun, 83:11).6 This second visionary experience leads Enoch to
utter a prayer (84:1–6), which serves as the high point for the section as a whole. Unlike the Animal
Apocalypse, then, relatively little of 1 Enoch 83–84 transmits a vision in narrative form.
A second difference distinguishes chs. 83–84 not only from the Animal Apocalypse but also from
the remainder of 1 Enoch. Significantly, this is the only part of 1 Enoch in which the visionary is
actually made to utter a prayer, the text of which is given.7 Here we shall pay particular attention
to this aspect of the text.
2. THE PRAYER OF ENOCH

Enoch’s prayer in 1 En. 84:1–6 is formulated as a petition of a particular kind. To be sure, in the
Book of Watchers at 1 En. 12:1–14:8, Enoch is asked by the rebellious angelic beings to intercede to
God on their behalf; and while Enoch does travel to the heavenly throne (14:9–15:1), he does not
in the text actually utter a petition but rather is given a divine pronouncement against the angels,
one which emphasizes that their culpability can not be forgiven (15:2–16:3).
The closest analogies to what Enoch prays in chs. 83–84 are instead to be found in
the Aramaic Levi Document (a prayer of Levi on behalf of his progeny)8 and the Book of
Jubilees,9 which contains several prayers uttered by other patriarchal figures, such as Moses, Noah,
and Abraham. Like Enoch, who requests that God grant him a posterity on the earth (which is further
described in 84:6 as “the flesh of righteousness and uprightness as a seed-plant for ever”), these
patriarchs are made to utter petitions that have the well-being of their offspring (or at least those who
figuratively come after them) in mind. The most significant examples of this are the following (with
italics for emphasis, and parallels underlined), each followed by brief description and comment.10
6
The vision in ch. 83 draws together a number of cosmological motifs known in Enochic tradition and elsewhere that, in
turn, should become the focus of future study. G. W. E. Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch 1: A Commentary on the Book of 1 Enoch,
Chapters 1-36; 81-108, Hermeneia (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2001), 347, rightly observes that “the first dream
vision was shaped from traditional material (the Book of the Watchers [esp. chaps. 1–11], an archetype of chaps. 106–7,
and chap. 65)” and goes on to suggest that this material had “the purpose of providing a companion pieces to what is now
the second dream vision.” The derivative character of 1 Enoch 83–84, however, should not distract from the significance of
this section and the conceptual distinctiveness it occupies in the early Enoch tradition.
7
Of course, “Enoch” is elsewhere narratively said to speak with God and to be in dialogue with angelic interlocutors (cf. chs.
18:1–36:4; 37–71; 81:1–10; and 90:40); however, only here is the text of his prayer itself formally provided.
8
J. C. Greenfield, M. E. Stone, and E. Eshel, An Aramaic Levi Document: Edition, Translation, Commentary, SVTP 19
(Leiden: Brill, 2004); H. Drawnel, An Aramaic Wisdom Text from Qumran, JSJSS 86 (Leiden: Brill, 2004).
9
C. Werman, The Book of Jubilees: Introduction, Translation, and Interpretation (Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 2016), in Hebrew;
and J. C. VanderKam, Jubilees: A Commentary, 2 vols., Hermeneia (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2018). The citations
below are based on VanderKam’s translation.
10
For previous study on the petitionary prayers mentioned below, see, e.g., L. T. Stuckenbruck, “The Need for Protection
from the Evil One and John’s Gospel,” in L. T. Stuckenbruck, The Myth of Rebellious Angels, WUNT 335 (Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 2014), 187–215, esp. 203–11.
2.1. Jubilees 1:19–20

Moses pleads that God not deliver Israel “into the control of the nations with the result that they
rule over them lest they make them sin against you” and that “the spirit of Beliar not rule them so
as to bring charges against them before you and to trap them away from every proper path so that
they may be destroyed from your presence.” Here Moses prays that Israel not sin and come under
Beliar’s rule.
2.2. Jubilees 10:1–6

The prayer of Noah, in which we can note a few parallels to Enoch’s petition:
(v. 3) God … who has acted mercifully with me and saved me and my sons from the water of the
Flood. … Let your grace be lifted up upon my sons, and do not let the evil spirits rule over them,
lest they destroy them from the earth.
(v. 4) But bless me and my sons. …
(v. 5) And you know that which your Watchers, the fathers of these spirits, did in my days. …
(cf. 1 En. 84:4) Shut them up and take them to the place of judgment. And do not let them cause
corruption among the sons of your servant, O my God (1 En. 84:6), because they are cruel and
were created to destroy.
(v. 6) And let them not rule over the spirits of the living because you alone know (1 En. 84:3)
their judgement. And do not let them have power over the children of the righteous now and
forever.
Again, as Moses, Noah asks for God to protect his offspring (indeed, children of the righteous)
in the future. Like Enoch, whose prayer refers to what the rebellious angels have done and who
appeals to God’s omniscience, Noah is concerned with his offspring. While Enoch is asking that a
righteous posterity be left after God has punished evil in the Great Flood, Noah’s prayer assumes
that such offspring will exist and requests that they be protected from the rule of evil spirits.
2.3. Jubilees 12:16–20

The prayer of Abraham (similar to 1 En. 83–84, coming after he goes outside and beholds the
heavens and stars):
(v. 19) My God, my God, God most High, you alone are my God. You have created everything;
everything that was and has been is the product of your hands. You and your lordship I have
chosen.
(v. 20) Save me from the power of the evil spirits, who rule the thoughts of people’s minds. May
they not mislead me from following you, my God. Do establish me and my posterity for ever.
May we not go astray from now until eternity.
As mentioned, the prayer occurs while Abram is gazing at the stars by night (12:16), these spirits
must be the stars linked with “astrology.” Abram recognizes, however, that it is wrong to predict on
the basis of stars; this even includes the weather—for example, whether or not it will rain—as such
predictions distract from the conviction that only God should control meteorological events. Alone
at night, Abram resists the temptation to adopt the instruction about “the omens of the sun and
moon and stars within all the signs of heaven,” which in the story was attributed to the fallen angels
and rediscovered after the Flood. Enoch’s prayer also follows his observation of the stars at night,
and he too, like Abraham, declares God to be the one and only creator of all things. In addition,
like Abraham, Enoch requests that God give him a posterity for ever. However, as the prayers of
Moses and Noah, Abraham’s prayer focuses on protection from the personified evil, while Enoch’s
prayer does not specifically mention such protection, but rather requests destruction of one kind of
(wicked) flesh so that another, a righteous flesh, can be established.
2.4. Jubilees 19:28

A prayer of Abraham as he pronounces a blessing over Jacob:“may the spirit of Mastema not rule
over you or over your seed in order to remove you from following the Lord who is your God
henceforth and forever” Abraham’s story shows how his prayers for rescue from the rule of “evil
spirits” in chs. 12 and 19 is answered: His obedience to God thwarts Mastema’s plan to test his
character; and the constitution of Israel as the elect people is God’s response to Abram’s prayer
of deliverance. Enoch’s prayer is not followed by a narrative that exemplifies how his prayer is
answered. Rather the text assumes that the prayer has been answered; readers and recipients of 1
En. 83–84 are to understand themselves as heirs to and beneficiaries of a request uttered by Enoch
before the Flood.
2.5. Aramaic Levi Document (4Q213a i 6–10 and Grk; cf. a parallel in T. Levi 2:5–4:6)
A prayer—the text is summarized here—spoken by Levi just before he is granted a vision of heaven
(cf. 4Q213a ii 14–18) and is commissioned to become a priest (cf. the later T. Levi 2:5–4:6). After
Levi makes preparations through cleansing and various gestures (4Q213a i 6–10), he utters a prayer
(Grk. vv. 5–19; Aram. 1.10–2.10). According to Robert Kugler,11 this prayer may be structured as
follows: (i) Levi prays that God purify him from evil and wickedness, that God show him the holy
spirit, and that God endow him with counsel, wisdom, knowledge, and strength, in order that he
might find favor before God and give God praise (Grk. vv. 6–9; Aram. 1.10–16); (ii) he prays that
God protect him from evil (Grk. v. 10; Aram. 1.17); and (iii) he requests that God shelter him from
evil, that wickedness be destroyed from the earth, and that he and his descendants will serve God
for all generations to come (Grk. vv. 11–19; Aram. 1.18–2.10).
There is less immediately in common between 1 En. 83–84 and Levi’s prayer. Though it is
possible that Enoch takes on a priestly role in praying on behalf of those coming after him, it is not
clear that his intercession is specifically priestly in character. Nonetheless, Enoch’s prayer, like that
of Levi (and those of patriarchs in the Book of Jubilees), culminates in the request for righteous
descendants.
These examples from the Book of Jubilees and the Aramaic Levi Document, along with parallels
found in 1 Enoch 83–84, provide evidence for a lively tradition of patriarchs’ prayers for those
coming after them (i.e., recipients of these texts who understood themselves to be their legitimate
heirs during the second century bce. Though the first dream vision was originally a separate
R. Kugler, From Patriarch to Priest: The Levi-Priestly Tradition from Aramaic Levi to Testament of Levi, SBLEJL 9 (Atlanta,
11

composition from the Animal Apocalypse, the editorial combination of the two works at an early
stage suggests a date of composition around the mid-second century bce, a date that makes it
roughtly contemporary with Jubilees and the petitionary prayers it preserves (though the latter may
go back to even earlier traditions12). This tradition, which embeds petitions for progeny within a
sacred narrative, arguably resurfaces in the Gospel of John, in which Jesus, just before his death,
prays for his disciples (John 17:6–19), asking God to “keep them from the evil one” (v. 15), as
well as for those who come to faith through what they proclaim (vv. 20–24). As in the other texts
reviewed above, those receiving the text in the Gospel are assumed to be understanding themselves
as covered by Jesus’ effective prayer on their behalf.13
In 1 Enoch 84, the writer has the patriarch Enoch utter a prayer that entreats God to rescue
humanity from the coming destruction of the Great Flood. As noted in the introduction above,
however, the first part of the Book of Dreams does not simply contain a prayer; Enoch’s words are
placed in a narrative, according to which he is given a vision in which “heaven” is thrown down
upon the earth, resulting in the earth’s annihilation. Enoch is so troubled that he recounts the vision
to his grandfather Malal’el (the only extant text from Second Temple literature that gives Malalel
an active role in a narrative), with the text containing a faint echo of Eli’s advice to Samuel (1 Sam
3:15–18). Malalel tells Enoch to supplicate God that the destruction will not be complete and that
a remnant among humanity will be left upon the earth. Simply put, the content of Enoch’s prayer
is prescribed by his grandfather.
Directed at God, the petition is twofold. First, Enoch prays that God’s wrath rest upon those
who have perpetrated evil upon the earth; these evil-doers include the angels who have rebelled
against God and those of human flesh who have presumably come under their influence (1 En.
84:4). Thus the passage reflects an effort to make more explicit than the early part of the Book of
Watchers (cf. 1 En. 8:1–3) that humanity is included alongside demonic powers as those to be held
responsible for wickedness on the earth. Second, the main emphasis of the petition, however, lies
elsewhere. Enoch asks God to “leave me a posterity upon the earth,” so that the coming destruction
will neither be complete nor last for ever (84:5).
Readers and hearers of Enoch’s prayer will obviously have been aware, on the basis of the
storylines in Genesis 6–9 and 1 Enoch 6–11, that both parts of these petitions were answered.
We have already noted that they will have understood themselves as the heirs of those whom
God rescued from the destructive Flood. They are “the flesh of righteousness and uprightness”
mentioned in 84:6 and thus are those whose very existence is the outcome of Enoch’s prayer. To
them, the petition uttered by Enoch resulted in deliverance from both the evil of the rebellious
12
Cf. bibliographical references on the tradition-historical location of Jubilees in relation to Aramaic traditions in
Stuckenbruck, The Myth of Rebellious Angels, 58–9, n.3.
13
Nickelsburg, 1 En. 1:347, 351–2, emphasizes the parallels and differences between the prayer in 84:1–6 and that of the
four angelic beings in 9:4–11. He rightly points out parallels in three respects: both prayers (1) have an address, which
express praise to God, who is given several comparable titles; (2) contain a description of God’s power, referring to God’s
activity as creator, God’s sovereignty (rule), and God’s unequalled omniscience; and (3) close with petitions (following the
introductory “and now”). However, the differentiating comparison drawn by Nickelsburg between these passages does not
take into account that these formal elements are more widespread in contemporary literature and that they are associated
with prayers spoken by patriarchs. Thus, the comparison with ch. 9, which does not consider the appropriation of such
elements in Jubilees, does not do justice to Enoch’s petition in 84:1–6, especially with respect to its (efficacious) function
among its recipients. Nickelsburg (1 En. 1:352) can only conclude that “Chapter 9 is humanity’s anguished indictment of
God. Here Enoch foresees the possibility of salvation beyond the flood.”
angels and the just judgment of God against wrongs committed by humanity. It is likely that those
receiving the text would have thought themselves as that very “seed-bearing plant” (84:6) founded
and shaped through what Enoch has said during the pre-diluvian period.14 The passage accords
Enoch an importance that is unmistakeable; in sacred tradition, he becomes the earliest figure
through whose agency God’s purposes for humanity have been secured.
3. CONCLUSION
With this understanding of Enoch’s petitionary prayer in 1 Enoch 83–84 in mind, we may offer
three further observations. First, the first “dream vision” demonstrates little explicit interest in
eschatology. A recognition of this differs from George Nickelsburg’s emphasis that “The relevance
of this narrative lies in its typology between the flood and the final judgment.”15 With such a typology
at best only implicit, the prayer is less concerned with the end time, as it is with “historicizing”
the Enoch tradition in order to exhort and encourage a community of the faithful who, as Enoch’s
heirs, live in the present. In this respect, the text differs in emphasis from the Animal Apocalypse,
the Apocalypse of Weeks, the Epistle of Enoch, the Eschatological Admonition in 1 Enoch 108, the
Parables, the Exhortation of ch. 91, the Book of Watchers (except for parts of chs. 21–36), and
the Birth of Noah, in which images from the time of the Great Flood present an Urzeit that lends
confidence for anticipating an Endzeit (esp. 1 Enoch 91 and 106–107). To be sure, chapters 83
and 84 draw heavily on other, earlier parts of 1 Enoch; however, the attribution of a new function
to Enoch not found elsewhere in the early Enochic collection provides a more essential point of
departure for an interpretation of how this part of the tradition may have functioned.
Second, we should state the obvious, though it is something easily overlooked: how different this
pre-Flood account is from that which meets us through Genesis chs. 5 and 6. According to Genesis,
it is God who reaches the decision to destroy the earth due to human sin; in Genesis 6 God’s
“wrath” is not at all mentioned, in contrast to 1 En. 84:4. Instead, Gen 6:6 states that “the Lord
was sorry that he had made humankind on the earth, and it troubled him (‫ )יתעצב‬to his heart,” with
the Septuagint tradition weakening the sense of the verb to διενοήθη (“he considered [the matter]).”
In our Enochic account, the patriarch is given some agency in how things transpire in the sacred
story. Though we cannot speak of cause (prayer) and effect (in the manner that God responds to
and heeds Enoch’s requests), the texts lends Enoch a prominence, so that, by praying in accordance
with his grandfather Malal’el’s interpretation of his night vision, he foresees the divine judgment
to come, on the one hand, and the deliverance of those who are righteous from that judgment and
destruction, on the other.
Third and finally, the emphases observed above have emerged through new textual work that
has been carried out to secure the text of 1 Enoch 83–84. To illustrate this, I provide a translation
14
On the widespread use of “plant” or “planting” as a metaphor for an ideal community of the righteous, see P. A. Tiller,
“The ‘Eternal Planting’ in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” DSD 4 (1997): 312–35; L. T. Stuckenbruck, “4QInstruction and the
Possible Influence of Early Enochic Traditions: An Evaluation,” in Wisdom Texts from Qumran and the Development of
Sapiential Thought, ed. C. Hempel, A. Lange, and H. Lichtenberger, BETL 159 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2002),
245–61; and Stuckenbruck, 1 Enoch 91-108, 100–2 and 123–4.
15
Nickelsburg, 1 En. 1:346. While one cannot maintain that eschatology plays no role in the narrative, it remains conspicuous
that, unlike c hapters 10:16–11:2, 91:5–10 and 106:13–107:2 (and the later chs. 65–7), a typology with the end time in
view is not developed at all.
that takes into account some of the most significant Ge‘ez witnesses, including manuscripts that
more recently have become accessible, with further verse-by-verse commentary to follow in future
publications.
PART B
A NEW TRANSLATION OF 1 ENOCH CHAPTERS 83 AND 84

The translation offered here, though preliminary, is based on a sample of manuscript witnesses
that, except for three (EMML 8347, Ryl, and Ullendorff16), reflect the Ge‘ez textual tradition for
1 Enoch before it reached a standardized form.17 Furthermore, brief notes to the translated text
are given in footnotes that are designed to serve as a catalyst for further research. The manuscripts
on which the translation is critically derived include the following, given in roughly chronological
order (with estimated dates, where no specific one is given, and abbreviations if used):18
EMML 8400 (ca. 1400)—abbr. 8400
EMML 8292 (also known as Tana 9; 15th cent.)—abbr. 8292
EMML 9009 (15th cent.)—abbr. 9009
Abb55 (15th cent.)
Gunda Gunde 151 (late 15th/early 16th cent.)—abbr. GG 151
Remnant Trust (late 15th/early 16th cent.)—abbr. RT
BL485 (early 16th cent.)
Petermann II Nachtrag 24 (early 16th cent.—palimpsest, with only parts of chs. 83–84
legible)—abbr. P II N 24
Petermann II Nachtrag 29 (early 16th cent.)—abbr. P II N 29
Parma 3843 (16th cent.)—abbr. Parma
Cambridge 1570 (d. 1588)—abbr. Camb
Abb35 (17th cent.)
16
The readings of Ryl and Ullendorff follow their reading and collation by Knibb, The Ethiopic Book of Enoch, vol. 1. On
these manuscripts, see Knibb, The Ethiopic Book of Enoch, 2.25–26.
17
A more thorough accounting of the manuscripts preserving this part of 1 Enoch and that include at least six late copies
of the pre-standardized recension (dated to the nineteenth and twentieth centuries), will be published in the forthcoming
edition for 1 Enoch being prepared by Ted M. Erho and myself, with the further assistance of James Hamrick and Ralph
Lee. In particular, I am indebted to Erho for many conversations from which many insights on the Ge‘ez tradition continue
to emerge.
18
For a description of most of these manuscripts, with explanations for the abbreviations used, see T. M. Erho and L. T.
Stuckenbruck, “A Manuscript History of Ethiopic Enoch,” JSP 23 (2013): 87–133; in addition, on the recovery of Enochic
text from the palimpsest Petermann II Nachtrag 24, initially detected by Ted Erho, see L. T. Stuckenbruck and I. Rabin, “Die
Entdeckung verlorener Texte: Foto- und Textarbeiten am Untertext einer altäthiopischen Handschrift,” Biblioitheksmagazin
13.2 (2018): 72–6.

BL491 (17th cent.)
From the standardizing recension:
Ullendorff (18th cent.)—abbr. Ull
Rylands 23 (18th cent.)—abbr. Ryl
Further abbreviations used are: hmt. (homoiteleuton); sg. (singular); pl. (plural); suff. (suffix); ptc.
(participle); pron. (pronominal). Finally, the use of bold typeface indicates the parallels between the
Ge‘ez text and fragments 4Q203 (4QEnGiantsa) 9 and 10 from the Book of Giants. The variants
listed reflect differences in content (not orthography) and are given in italics next to manuscript
witnesses that preserve them.
Chapter 83
83:1
And now aI will show youa, Methuselah my son,19 ball the visions of mineb cthatc I have seen. dIn
your presence, I will recount (them)d.
a-a
2436: I have shown you
b-b
Abb35, 2436, 8347: every vision (sg.)
c-c
2436: omits
d-d
2436: I will recount (them) in your presence. 8400, 9009, 2080*?, BL485, BL491: In
your presence, I will recount (them) before you.
83:2
I saw two avisionsa before I took a wifeb,
and one of them is cnot like the otherc:
The first (happened) dwhend I was learning to write,
and the second (occurred) before I took eyour mothere.
f
I saw compelling visionsf, and gconcerning themg I made petition to God.

a-a
8292: omits
b
RT: adding rel. pron. before “I saw”, reads as an extension of v. 1: In your presence I will
recount two visions that I saw before I took a wife.
c-c
GG151: and is like; 8400, 8437, 8703, 7584, 6281, 1768, 2080, RT, Parma, Camb,
2436, 8292, BL485, Abb35: and is not like the other.
19
Methuselah is significant elsewhere in 1 Enoch; cf. 1 En. 82:1–4; 85:1; 91:1–2; 92:1; 93:1; 105:1–2; 106–107; and
108:1; see, e.g., Stuckenbruck, 1 En. 91–108, 10–12.
d-d
1768: omits
e-e
7584: our mother; 20801: your mother Edna
f-f
8292: first I saw a compelling vision; 2080: I saw a compelling vision; for the sg. see g-g.
g-g
2080, 8292: concerning it
83:3
I wasa lying down in the house of Malal’el my grandfather.
a
I sawb cin a vision:

b
Heavenc was being thrown down dand removedd;

eand it was falling upon the earthe.
a-a
BL491, BL485—you were lying down
b-b
BL485—you saw; 8292—and I saw
c-c
8400, GG151, Parma1—in a vision of heaven (cf. 1 En. 1); Abb55—I saw: Heaven;
9009—I saw in a vision: Heaven which
d-d
BL491—and punished
e-e
9009, P II N 29—omit and it was falling upon the earth
83:4
a
And when it fell upon the eartha,
I saw the earth as it was being devoured into a bgreatb abyss;
and mountains were being suspended con mountainsc,
d
and hillsd were sinking eon hillse;
f
and tall treesf were being ripped out at their trunks,
and they were thrown away gand sank into the abyssg.
a-a
Abb55—omits (hmt.)
b-b
Abb55—omits
c-c
Camb—omits (hmt.); BL491—in mountains
d-d
9009—and even hills
e-e
P II N 29—omits (hmt.)
f-f
2436—and high hills
g-g
Abb55—omits and sank into the abyss
83:5
a
Anda bafterwardsb a message fell into my mouth;
cand I raisedc (my voice), cried out, and said:
“The earth has been destroyed!”
a-a
Parma—omits
b-b
8400—truly? (’emun); 1768, 7584, 9009, RT, GG151, Parma, BL485, P II N 29,
Abb55—then; BL491—after these things (pl. suff.); 8292, 8703, 8347, 6281, 2426,
2080, Camb, Abb35—for and then: afterwards
c-c
Abb35—and I seized (my voice)
83:6
And Malal’el amy grandfathera woke me up basb cI was lying near himc, and dhed said to me,
“e.e1Whate fare you crying out about like thisf, gmy song,
and why are you moaning like thise1?”
a-a
1768—omits
b-b
8437—and
c-c
8400—I was sleeping with him
d-d
6281—they
e-e
8347, 20801, Ull, Ryl—why are you crying out
e1-e1
9009—what are you moaning about like this
f-f
8292—what have you been crying about like this
g-g
BL491—O my son; P II N 29—omits
83:7
And I told him athe entire visiona bthat I had seenb.
And he said to me,
“cYou have seen something compelling, my sonc!
dAnd the vision of your dream weighs heavily on the sin ofd the whole eearthe;
fandf gitg will sink into the habyssesh
and ibe destroyed withi a great destruction.
a-a
GG151, Parma, Ull—all the visions (pl.); Abb55—omits
b-b
2436—omits
c-c
RT—how compelling is the force (of what) you have seen; 2080mg—next to you have
seen … my son: make known the dream
d-d
8347, 7584, 1768, 2080, RT, GG151, Parma, 2436, Abb35, Abb55—and the vision of
your dream is weighty, the secrets of all the sins of
e-e
2080—world
f-f
BL485, Ull—omits
g-g
2080—the whole earth
h-h
8292, 9009, 2436, Abb35, Ryl—abyss
i-i
Abb55—omits
83:8
And now, my son, rise up and make petition to athe Lord of Glorya,
—for you are faithful—
so that a remnant will remain on the earthb.c.
a-a
Ull—God
b
8347, 6281, 2436, 2080, Abb35, Ull, Ryl—add: and that he might not destroy the whole
earth (6281 omits not)
c
8400—adds: my son (while the other mss. begin v. 9 with the address)
83:9
My son, all this will happen from heaven on the eartha;
a.c.
band upon the earth there will be great destructionb.c.”

a-a
Ryl—my son, from heaven everything will happen upon the earth; 8400—for waters will
all come upon the earth; P II N 29—omits
b-b
9009, 6281, P II N 29—and there will be great destruction (P II N 29—omits and)
c-c
Abb55—my son, from heaven there will be a great destruction
83:10
Anda afterwardsb cI arosec dand prayedd and made petition.
a.b
And I wrote emy prayere for the generations of eternity.

f
And everything I will show you, my son, Methuselahf.
a-a
6281, 1768, 2080, 8292, BL491—omit
b-b
Abb55—omits
c-c
Abb55—and I arose
d-d
9009, Camb, P II N 29—omit
e-e
2080mg; Abb55—omit; BL485—and I prayed; 8292—their prayer
f-f
Abb55—omits
83:11
a
Anda bthenb I went out cbelowc
d
and saw heaven and the sund egoing up from the easte,
f
and the sunf and the moon descending gfromg the west,
and hsomeh stars iand the whole earthi,
j
and everything kthatk lhel had made manifest m.natm firstj.n.
And I praisedo the Lord of judgment,
and I ascribed to him majesty.
For phe has madep the sun to go out from the windows of the east,
and qit ascends and risesq above the face of the heaven;
and rhe raises (it) and it proceeds (on) the paths that it has been shownr.
a-a
8400—omits
b-b
2080, 2436, BL491, Abb35, Ull, Ryl—when
c-c
9009—to
d-d
9009—and saw the sun; BL491—and saw the sun and heaven
e-e
Abb55—omits
f-f
83471, 20801, 2436, 8292, P II N 24, Abb35, Abb55, Ull, Ryl—omit
g-g
8400, 9009, 2080, 8292, BL491, P II N 29—in; Abb55—to
h-h
6281, 8292, BL485, P II N 29—some of
i-i
20801, 2436, Abb35, Abb55—omit
j-j
Abb55—omits
k-k
8292, P II N 29*, Ull—omit
l-l
P II N 29—the Holy One
m-m
2080, 8292—on it
n-n
P II N 29—omits
o-o
BL485—adds concerning it
p-p
Abb55—they have made
q-q
2436—and he has made it ascend and rise; P II N 29—and its foundation rises
r-r
7584, 1768, RT, GG151, Parma, Abb35—and it rises and proceeds (on) paths which are
shown it; 8292—he raises the paths (on which) it proceeds, which it has been shown;
2436—and he raises (it) and proceeds (on) the paths which it has been shown (mg.: which
were ordained for it) Abb55—and it proceeds to it
Chapter 84
84:1
And I lifted up amy handsa in righteousness,
and blessed the Holy One and the Great One,
and I spoke with the spirit of my mouth and bwithb the tongue of cthec flesh,
which the Lord dhas made ford the children of ehuman fleshe,
fso that they might converse with itf
[[- gandg he gave them a spirit hand tongueh and mouth,
so that they might converse with it.]]
a-a
GG151, Parma—my hand
b-b
Abb35—omits
c-c
8347*, P II N 29—my
d-d
Parma—has given to
e-e
Abb55—humanity
f-f
Abb55—omits
g-g
Parma—omits
h-h
8292—omits
84:2
“aBlessed20 are you, bLordb, cGreat Kingc,
and mighty din your majestyd, eO Lord of all creation of heavene,
King of Kings, and Lord of the fwholef world!
g
And your royal authority and your kingdomg hand your greatnessh21
iwill remain for everi jand for everj and ever,
kand your authority for all generationsk.
And all the heavens are your throne for ever;
landl the whole earth is your footstool for ever, mand for ever and everm.
20
4Q203 9.3—“[ble]ssed …”.
21
4Q203 9.6—“the rule of your greatness.”
a
RT, 8292—add and
b-b
9009 – God, Lord; BL491—omits
c-c
Camb—King and Great One
d-d
Parma—and majestic
e-e
Abb55—omits; 9009, 8347—O Lord of all creation
f-f
Abb55—omits
g-g
2080—and your kingdom and royal authority
h-h
8292—omits
i-i
9009—omits; Parma, 2436—will remain
j-j
8292—omits
k-k
9009—and for every generation; BL491—and for all your authority for generations
l-l
RT—omits
m-m
GG151—and unto eternity
84:3
For you have madea and brule overb everything;
and cnoc deed at all is too strong for you;22
dwisdom does not elude you.
And eyour throne does not depart from its seate, norf from your presence.
And gyou knowh and seeg and hear ieverythingi,23
and nothing is hidden from you, for you jsee allj.
a
2436—adds everything
b-b
GG151, Parma—have planted; 6 mss. (Eth. II)—fill
c-c
8400, 8703, 8347, 7584, 6281, 1768, 2080, RT, GG151, Parma, Camb, 2436—omit
emphatic all with the negative
d
8292, Abb55—add and
e-e
8400, 6281, Camb, BL491, BL485—its (wisdom’s) seat does not depart from you, from
your throne; P II N 29—it (wisdom) will not depart from you, from your throne
f
2080mg—adds and wisdom
g-g
8400—you see and know
h
Camb, BL485—add and you are invisible
i-i
8400, RT—omit
j-j
8292—make everything visible
84:4
And now24 the angels of your heavens are doing wrong,
and your wrath is against human flesh auntila bthe great day of judgmentb.
22
4Q203 9.4—“nothing has defeated you / is too strong for you.”
23
4Q203 9.3—“[you] kn[ow] all mysteries.”
24
4Q203 9.5—“and now [the] h[oly ones?”
a-a
BL491—omits
b-b
1768—your great day, your judgment
84:5
a
And now, O God, Lord, King, Great Onea,25
I make petition and I ask
that you establish for me my request,
b
that you leave for me cposterityc on the earth,
and that you do not wipe away all human flesh,
and dleave the earth empty,
eso that the destruction willf last for ever.
a-a
9009—omits; 8703, 8347, 7584, 6281, 1768,—O Lord and God and Great King;
2080—O Lord and God and King and Great One; GG151—O Lord and God, Great
One and King; Parma—O Lord, God, Great King; 2436—O Lord, God, Great King
b
BL491, Ull—adds and
c-c
P II N 29 – those who come after me (ptc. + pron. suff.)
d
20801, RT, Ull, Ryl—and that you do not (i.e. with the negative particle)
e
8400, 9009, 2436—add and
f
8400, 2436—add not (i.e. in order that the destruction not last for ever)
84:6
And now, my Godb,26 wipe away cfrom uponc the earth the flesh that has made you
a
angry,
dbut establishe the flesh fof righteousnessf and uprightness gasg a seed-plantd for
ever.a
And do not cover hyour faceh ifrom the request of your servanti, jO Godj.”
a-a
P II N 29—omits
b
9009—God
c-c
1768—omits (i.e. the earth, the flesh)
d-d
9009—but the flesh of righteousness and uprightness, and establish every seed-plant
e
2080—adds for me
f-f
8703—omits
g-g
2080*—omits
h-h
P II N 29—omits (i.e. do not hide)
i-i
GG151, Parma—from your servant and from my request
j-j
1768—O my God
25
Cf. 4Q203 9.6—“the rule of your greatness.”
26
4Q203 10.1—“now, my Lord.”
4. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Assefa, Daniel. L’Apocalypse des animaux (1 Hen 85–90): une propaganda militaire? JSJSS 120.
Bryan, David. Cosmos, Chaos, and the Kosher Mentality. JSPSS 12. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995.
Chesnutt, Randall. “Oxyrhynchus Papyrus 2069 and the Compositional History of 1 Enoch.” JBL 129
(2010): 485–505.
Dibley, Genevive. “Abraham’s Uncircumcised Children: The Enochic Precedent for Paul’s Paradoxical Claim
in Galatians 3:29.” PhD diss., University of California at Berkeley and Graduate Theological Union, 2013.
Drawnel, Henryk. An Aramaic Wisdom Text from Qumran. JSJSS 86. Leiden: Brill, 2004.
Erho, Ted M., and Loren T. Stuckenbruck. “A Manuscript History of Ethiopic Enoch.” JSP 23 (2013): 87–133.
Gitlbauer, M. Die Überreste griechischer Tachygraphie im Codex Vaticanus Graecus 1809, I. Denkschriften der
kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien, Philosophisch-Historische Classe 28. Vienna: Aus der
Kaiserlich-Königlichen Hof- und Staatsdruckerei, 1878.
Greenfield, Jonas C., Michael E. Stone, and Esther Eshel. An Aramaic Levi Document: Edition, Translation,
Commentary. SVTP 19. Leiden: Brill, 2004.
Knibb, Michael A. The Ethiopic Book of Enoch. 2 vols. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1978.
Kugler, Robert. From Patriarch to Priest: The Levi-Priestly Tradition from Aramaic Levi to Testament of Levi.
EJL 9. Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1996.
Milik, J. T. “Fragments grec du livre d’Hénoch (P. Oxy. and xvii 2069).” ChrÉgy 46 (1971): 321–43.
Milik, J. T. The Books of Enoch: Aramaic Fragments from Qumrân Cave 4. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1976.
Nickelsburg, George W. E. 1 Enoch 1: A Commentary on the Book of 1 Enoch, Chapters 1–36; 81–108.
Olson, Daniel C. A New Reading of the Animal Apocalypse of 1 Enoch: “All Nations Shall be Blessed.” SVTP
Stuckenbruck, Loren T. “4QInstruction and the Possible Influence of Early Enochic Traditions: An Evaluation.”
Pages 245–61 in Wisdom Texts from Qumran and the Development of Sapiential Thought. Edited by
Charlotte Hempel, Armin Lange, and Hermann Lichtenberger. BETL 159. Leuven: Leuven University
Press, 2002.
Stuckenbruck, Loren T. 1 Enoch 91-108. CEJL. Berlin: Gruyter, 2007.
Stuckenbruck, Loren T. “The Need for Protection from the Evil One and John’s Gospel.” Pages 187–215 in
Loren T. Stuckenbruck, The Myth of Rebellious Angels. WUNT 335. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014.
Stuckenbruck, Loren T., and Ira Rabin, “Die Entdeckung verlorener Texte: Foto- und Textarbeiten am
Untertext einer altäthiopischen Handschrift.” Bibliotheksmagazin 13.2 (2018): 72–6.
Tiller, Patrick A. A Commentary on the Animal Apocalypse of 1 Enoch. EJL 4. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical
Literature, 1993.
Tiller, Patrick A. “The ‘Eternal Planting’ in the Dead Sea Scrolls.” Dead Sea Discoveries 4 (1997): 312–35.
VanderKam, James C. Jubilees: A Commentary. Hermeneia. 2 vols. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2018.
Werman, Cana. The Book of Jubilees: Introduction, Translation, and Interpretation. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi,
2016 (Hebrew).
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Cain and the Example of

the Birds
CHRISTFRIED BÖTTRICH
One of the minor apocryphal stories, embedded in many different contexts and widespread
throughout all three Abrahamic religions, is that of Abel’s burial by his brother Cain, following the
example of two birds.1 Traces of this story are found in Rabbinic Aggadah; in Christian exegesis,
chronography, and folklore; and in the Qurʾan and subsequent Islamic legends. The story first
emerged in the fourth century ce and is still popular in modern times. Its fascination seems to be
due to the idea of cultural inventions from the beginning of mankind, which is well known from
the first chapters of the biblical narration.
1. BIBLICAL IMPULSES AND GAPS IN GENESIS 4

Primeval history begins with learning processes. Expelled from Eden, man has to find out how to
keep flocks, till the ground, make textiles, and so on. All these things are presupposed from Genesis 3
onward, but only a few outstanding inventions are mentioned explicitly: Enoch, the son of Cain, builds
the first city; Jabal institutes nomadic life; Jubal creates instruments for making music; and Tubal-Cain
is the first who makes things out of bronze and iron.2 Later on, such a list of inventions is developed in 1
En. 7:1 and 8:1–3, here as betrayal of heavenly secrets by the fallen “watchers” to their human wives.3
But what is the situation with such an elementary problem as dealing with the dead? Gen 3:19
only reflects on the general fact of death: man is taken from the dust and shall return to dust.
“Returning to dust” is associated first of all with something like inhumation. But there is surprisingly
no hint about how to manage this. Usually, funeral customs are the most important indicators for
archaeologists and ethnologists to determine a people’s religion.4 Nevertheless, the book of Genesis
does not touch upon this question in any fundamental way. Burial is mentioned only en passant,
mostly with the unspecific phrase “he buried him/her” (‫ קבר‬/ ἔθαψεν).5
1
C. Böttrich, “Die Vögel des Himmels haben ihn begraben:” Überlieferungen zu Abels Bestattung und zur Ätiologie des
Grabes, SIJD 3 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1995).
2
Cf. Gen 4:17 and 4:20–22.
3
Here it includes knowledge of sorcery, charms, incantations, astronomy and astrology, weapons, metallurgy, jewelry and
cosmetics, and astonishingly even ink and writing.
4
H. Wißmann, P. Welten, M. Brocke, and F. Merkel, “Bestattung I-V,” Theologische Realenzyklopädie 5 (1980): 730–57.
5
E. Zenger, “Das alttestamentliche Israel und seine Toten,” in Der Umgang mit den Toten: Tod und Bestattung in der
christlichen Gemeinde, ed. K. Richter, QD 123 (Freiburg: Herder, 1990), 132–52.
In Genesis 23, after Sarah’s death, Abraham purchases the cave of Machpelah as a burial site for
his family; in Gen 35:19–20, Jacob buries Rachel on the way to Ephrat and sets up a pillar on her
grave.6 Staying unburied as prey for birds and other animals is considered to be the most serious
desecration a man can suffer.7 Otherwise, the “normal” custom is simply presupposed. Only in
some scattered and random references can one learn about regulations for how to deal with a dead
body8 and, most of all, how to avoid impurity.9 Digging a grave in the ground or burying the dead
in a cave seems to have been the only accepted custom. Cremation, for example, was rejected.10 But
nowhere do we find any instruction or theological explanation to legitimize this one form of burial.
It is no wonder that interpreters of the Bible noticed this gap—and hastened to fill it with a little
story. Who was the first dead person in biblical chronology? It was Abel, long before his time and
long before Adam, his father. His violent end raised a question hitherto unasked. For the first time
in the narration, man had to consider what to do with a lifeless corpse. So Abel’s body showed an
appropriate way to solve the problem.
2. POSTBIBLICAL INTERPRETATIONS OF GENESIS 4

Surprisingly, the early Jewish (or “primary”) Adam literature11 is not yet interested in Abel’s burial.
Focused on the figure of Adam, the case of Abel receives no special attention. So what about Adam’s
funeral? The protoplast is such an extraordinary being that the texts claim something special for him,
not suitable to be a model for his children: angels carry his body and keep it, and his burial place is in
heaven.12 It remains the preserve of the Rabbinic Aggadah to discover and fill in the gap concerning Abel’s
burial.13
The earliest text narrating Abel’s burial is found in Tanh�. Ber. 10 §10 (fifth century ce). Its
content is in short the following: after slaying Abel, Cain does not know what to do. So God sends
6
The “architectural” design of important tombs is proven explicitly in 2 En. 71:22 and on numerous occasions in Liv. Pro.;
cf. D. R. A. Hare, “The Lives of the Prophets (First Century A.D.),” in Expansions of the “Old Testament” and Legends,
Wisdom and Philosophical Literature, Prayers, Psalms, and Odes, Fragments of Lost Judeo-Hellenistic Works, vol. 2 of The
Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, ed. J. H. Charlesworth (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1985), 379–99; and A.-M. Schwemer,
Vitae Prophetarum, JSHRZ 1/7 (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 1997), 548–50. Jewish tombs from ancient times are
still preserved; cf. J. Jeremias, Heiligengräber in Jesu Umwelt (Mt. 23, 29; Lk. 11, 47). Eine Untersuchung zur Volksreligion
der Zeit Jesu (Göttingen: Vandenheock & Ruprecht, 1958).
7
Cf. Deut 28:26; 2 Sam 21:10–14; 1 Kgs 14:11; 2 Kgs 9:30–37.
8
For example, to close the eyes of the dead (Gen 46:4; Tob 14:15; m. Šabb. 23:5); to embalm (Gen 50:2–3, 26) and to
dress the body (1 Sam 28:14; Ezek 32:27); to carry the corpse on a bier (2 Sam 3:31); to use aromata (2 Chr 16:14; 21:19;
Jer 34:5); and to have a meal sometime later (Jer 16:7; Tob 4:18); cf. M. Joseph, “Leichenbestattung,” Jüdisches Lexikon 3
(1927): 1027–31.
9
Cf. Num 19:16 and Deut 21:22–23.
10
In Amos 2:1 cremation is called wickedness; burning as a form of punishment is found in Gen 38:24; Lev 20:14 and 21:9;
and Jos 7:25.
11
Cf. M. E. Stone, A History of the Literature of Adam and Eve, SBLEJL 3 (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1992); and M. de
Jonge and J. Tromp, The Life of Adam and Eve and Related Literature, GAP (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997).
12
Later on, in the Christian (or “secondary”) Adam literature, this burial place returns to earth again, now related to the
omphalos idea: Adam is buried in the middle of the earth, where Christ will be crucified. The rabbinic tradition produces a
side shoot of this idea: Adam is buried where God took the dust for his creation.
13
Cf. the following texts and their detailed discussion in Böttrich, Vögel, 33–64. A classic study in this field is: V.
Aptowitzer, Kain und Abel in der Agada, den Apokryphen, der hellenistischen, christlichen und muhammedanischen Literatur
(Wien: Löwit, 1922).
Cain and the Example of the Birds 341
him two clean birds; one bird kills the other, scratches a hole in the ground with his claws, and
covers up the dead fellow. Observing this, Cain also learns how to bury Abel. The story ends with
a remark shifting the interest from the human participants to the acts of the birds. Because of their
helpful example, the birds are honored that in the future their blood will be covered up. This end
becomes characteristic for all the following aggadic versions reflecting on a divine reward for the
birds. Gen. Rab. 22:8 (fifth century) mentions neither Cain nor God as protagonists but only “the
birds of heaven and the clean animals” who buried Abel autonomously,14 rewarded by God now
with two benedictions (one related to slaughter, and one to covering up their blood). In Tosefta
Geniza Ms X on Gen 4:8 Cain again performs the burial, but the kind of bird is not specified; they
give Cain the double example of both murder and burial; nothing is said about any reward; and
only Cain’s fear of Adam is mentioned.
Pirke de Rabbi Eliezer 21 (ca. eighth–ninth century) embroiders and modifies the setting
further: now it is Adam and Eve mourning over Abel, unaware what to do. They learn from a raven,
who appears to be their fellow sufferer: when this raven’s mate dies accidentally, the surviving
dependent buries the dead one before Adam’s and Eve’s eyes. Thereafter, the raven is rewarded by
God caring for its offspring (explaining Ps 147:9): as newborns, the little ravens look white and the
parents flee assuming them to be a brood of snakes, but God answers their cries and feeds them.
Later on, in Jacob ben Asher’s (1270–1340) Perush al ha-Tora, the birds are called ravens again,
possibly influenced by Pirqe R. El. 21 or by the already existing Islamic tradition; again, the ravens
exemplify both murder and burial; only God is not mentioned in this context.
The Jewish-Persian author Shahin (fourteenth century) gives an identical version in his book of
Genesis 28:14–27. The Jalkut on Gen § 38 (thirteenth century) repeats the version of Gen. Rab.
22:8 and in § 925 uses the interpretation of Ps 147:9 from Pirqe R. El. 21. Midrash ha-Gadol
IV:16 (thirteenth century) combines Tanh�. Ber. 10 with Pirqe R. El. 21 (in the version of JalkGen §
925) with one modification: the raven itself decides to teach Adam.
Besides the Aggadah, the Islamic tradition was most successful in popularizing the bird’s
example.15 Without any doubt, the Qurʾan borrowed the story from an early stage of aggadic
discussion.16 In Sura 5:31–32, the archaic dilemma is again that of Cain; his teacher is a single
raven, sent by God and only scratching the ground (which is enough for Cain to have an “aha”
experience); the example concentrates on the burial alone—the murder is not mentioned. But
similar to the haggadic tradition, the Koranic version now also adds some further reflections. They
are not dedicated to the topic of reward for the birds but to the responsibility of men: to murder
one single person is like killing all humankind, and to save one single life is like preserving all
people.17
The ensuing Islamic tradition follows Sura 5 closely, bound by the Koran’s authority. Ibn Hisham
(ninth century), al-Tabari (ninth–tenth century), al-Kisa’i (tenth century), and al-Baidawi (thirteenth
14
They are doing this against their animal-like desires to consume the dead corpse.
15
Cf. for the following, Böttrich, Vögel, 65–77.
16
A. Geiger, Was hat Mohammed aus dem Judenthume aufgenommen? (Bonn: Selbstverlag, 1833; repr. Leipzig: Kaufmann,
1902); W. Rudolph, Die Abhängigkeit des Qorans von Judentum und Christentum (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1922); H. A. R.
Gibb and J. H. Kramers, “Habil and Kabil,” Shorter Encyclopaedia of Islam 1 (1953): 115; and H. P. Rüger, “Das Begräbnis
Abels: Zur Vorlage von Sure 5,31,” Biblische Notizen 14 (1981): 37–45.
17
This idea is of Jewish origin as well; cf. m. Sanh. 4:5.
century) only replace the one raven by two, now again fighting each other. Al-Thal‘abi (tenth–
eleventh century) offers the most maverick version: Cain carries Abel around in a sack on his
shoulders because of the wild beast’s desire to devour the dead; after one year, God has mercy
on him and sends the ravens. An ingenious reception of Sura 5 is found in Ibn Tufail’s (twelfth
century) novel Haij ibn Jaqzan:18 it is something like a Robinson Crusoe story, telling about a
male baby exposed on a lonely island where it is nurtured by a gazelle. When the boy grows up,
he observes his world very carefully, learning how to lead his life from the simplest activities to
sophisticated language and complex philosophical thought. When the gazelle dies, he opens her
body for anatomic studies. But soon the body begins to smell and the young man learns how to
bury it by observing two ravens.
Christian chronography as well as folkloristic tradition have used the little story in many different
contexts.19 Unfortunately, no Greek example has been preserved, but some texts in Oriental
languages hint at a lost Greek tradition. One context is that of riddles and erotapokriseis. Cain (or
Adam and Eve) learning from two birds was a limited story with a simple plot, flexible and open for
slight variations, easy to use as a building block for many purposes. A widespread Georgian fairy
tale tells about a princess who challenges her suitors to a riddle competition.20 Among the questions
one can also find the bird’s example: the birds are ravens or crows, addressing Adam and doing
both—killing and burying. A manuscript with questions and answers on the Pentateuch by a certain
emperor Leo, preserved in Turkish translation, contains the story in condensed form, asking who
was the first to die on earth; the example is given by a wild turtledove burying its young.
The story commenced its most prominent Christian career among the literature of Slavic
Orthodoxy.21 The earliest example is found in the Nestor Chronicle (eleventh–twelfth century).
An important textual segment of this chronicle, called the “speech of the philosopher,” depicts the
great drama of salvation. It tells also about Abel’s burial, embedded in the story of the fall of man.
Adam and Eve mourn Abel for thirty years until two birds, sent by God, come and offer the needed
example. In the Tolkovaja Paleja, the great repository of ancient apocryphal traditions,22 we find the
same version, but now the birds are turtledoves (like in the Greek-Turkish erotapokriseis mentioned
above). The story became well known also in the Slavonic Apocalypse of Pseudo-Methodius,23
widely identical with the Chronicle and the Paleja; what is different is only the unidentified birds,
and the combination of murder and burial. As a specific item, in Pseudo-Methodius the idea also
18
S. Schreiner, ed., Ibn Tufail: Hajj ibn Jaqzan der Naturmensch. Ein philosophischer Robinson-Roman aus dem arabischen
Mittelalter (Leipzig: Kiepenheuer, 1983); O. F. Best, ed., Ibn Tufail: Der Ur-Robinson, das ist Der Lebende, Sohn des Wachenden
oder Philosophus autodidactus—Der von sich selbst gelehrte Philosoph. Ein philosophischer Roman (München: Matthes
& Seitz, 1987); and A. Ben-Zaken, Reading Hayy Ibn-Yaqzān: A Cross-Cultural History of Autodidacticism (Baltimore,
MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2011).
19
Cf. the texts in Böttrich, Vögel, 78–85.
20
C. Böttrich, “Turandot in Georgien: Ein Beitrag zur Tradition biblischer Rätselfragen,” Georgica 17 (1994): 54–65.
21
Cf. in detail Böttrich, Vögel, 86–101.
22
A. de Santos Otero, “Alttestamentliche Pseudepigrapha und die sogenannte ‘Tolkovaja Paleja’ [TP],” in Oecumenica et
Patristica, ed. D. Papandreou, W. A. Bienert, and K. Schäferdiek (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1989), 107–22; and C. Böttrich,
“Palaea / Paleja. Ein byzantinisch-slavischer Beitrag zu den europäischen Historienbibeln,” in Fragmentarisches Wörterbuch.
Beiträge zur biblischen Exegese und christlichen Theologie, ed. K. Schiffner et al. (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2007), 304–13.
23
It has a place only in the Slavonic translation; all the other manuscripts lack it; for the transmission of that text, see L.
DiTommaso, “The Apocalypse of Pseudo-Methodius: Notes on a Recent Edition,” MEG 17 (2017): 311–21.
appears of a “chirographum” demanded by the devil from Adam: as the “Lord of the earth” the
devil asserts his claim on all the dead buried in the ground.
Some further folkloristic erotapokriseis prove how widespread the story was: again Adam is
operating, and the bird is a turtledove; one version interestingly calls the bird “Rakuil,” which
seems to suggest an angel incognito. 2 En 71:36 (in the longer recension) also deserves major
attention.24 The passage is clearly part of a Christian interpolation dealing with events located at
the “center of the earth.”25 Again, Adam is the main protagonist caring for Abel who is unburied
for three years, observing the behavior of a bird now called a Jackdaw. The version not only shares
some details with the other Slavonic texts but also offers its own peculiarities. If the interpolation
came into the text already before the translation from Greek into Slavonic (for which there is
strong evidence), we would have here the oldest known Christian adaptation of the story, dating to
perhaps anytime between fourth and seventh centuries ce.
Closer to modern times, the story emerges in Finnish and Estonian oral traditions.26 At the
end of the nineteenth century, the famous folklorist Kaarle Krohn (1863–1963) collected a large
number of tales and legends from rural areas in the north, also containing some instances of the
bird’s example. As would be expected, the plot of these tales is less stable than in the literary
tradition. Of course, we find Adam and Eve, and the raven (or falcon), but now there is also much
interest in the place, mainly a big tree; the raven’s example addresses not only humans but also all
the other animals; in one version, the protoplasts learn not visually but audibly from the raven’s
croaking (“bury! bury!”) and invent, by the way, the tombstone as well. In Estonia, at the same
period, the theologian Jakob Hurt (1839–1907) gathered a huge collection of popular tales. Among
his handwritten materials, one also finds a version of the bird’s example close to the form it has in
Pseudo-Methodius. Very likely, these Finnish and Estonian traditions derive from the widespread
Russian texts that inaugurated a new, secondary form of oral tradition—mediated perhaps by
learned clerics, via almanacs, poems, or fables.
All these postbiblical examples of the little story speculate about the same question. The problem
of having a dead body emerges unexpectedly because Abel is slain in the prime of his life. There
was no time or reason to prepare for such a situation. Outside paradise, man is helpless in many
respects, dependent on God’s support and advice to master all the troubles of daily existence. But
God no longer speaks directly. He only gives an impulse, opens the eyes of man, and offers him
an idea.
3. FURTHER INSTANCES OF THE STORY

All the traditions and examples reported here briefly constitute only the tip of the iceberg. When
I collected the material in 1995, I had limited access only to some parts of the literature and based
24
Cf. F. I. Andersen, “2 (Slavonic Apocalypse of) Enoch. (Late First Century A.D.): Appendix: 2 Enoch in Merilo Pravednoe.
A New Translation and Introduction,” in Apocalyptic Literature and Testaments, vol. 1 of The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha,
ed. J. H. Charlesworth (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1983), 91–221; and C. Böttrich, Das slavische Henochbuch, JSHRZ
V/7 (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 1995).
25
It is in this case mainly the burial site of Melchizedek as told in the Syrian “Cave of Treasures”; cf. C. Böttrich, Geschichte
Melchisedeks, JSHRZ.NF II/1 (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2010), 30–5.
26
Cf. in detail Böttrich, Vögel, 102–9.
my study mainly on printed sources. I am convinced that there are still many more traces in the oral
tradition of the kind Florentina Badalanova-Geller has published recently.27 All the languages of the
Christian East must surely contain further material. And the Western, Latin literature may have at least
some knowledge of it as well.
Two proofs from Slavonic literature have caught my eye in the meantime. The first is part of the
so-called See of Tiberias, a text usually attributed to the Bogomils (because of its dualistic creation
myth) and perhaps emerging between the eleventh and thirteenth centuries ce. Following Florentina
Badalanova-Geller’s exhaustive study on this text,28 Alexander Kulik and Sergey Minov recently
published it again in their collection of “Biblical Pseudepigrapha in Slavonic Tradition.”29
So we are now in a much better position to evaluate the little passage concerning Abel’s burial
located in the latter part of the narrative. Kulik and Minov offer two recensions, a short and a long one.
The short recension has the version in a form well known from all the other Slavonic texts. The story
begins with Satan (a major figure in this context) showing Cain the stone with which to kill his brother.
Later on the parents find Abel’s body. Moved by their tears, God sends two turtledoves flying over the
body of Abel. As one dies and falls down, the other digs in the earth and buries his mate. Adam and Eve
follow his example and stop crying. The long recension sounds totally different. Blind Lamech (known
from the Palaea Historica tradition) has killed Cain erroneously with his arrow. Now it is Cain who lies
dead on the earth for three years30 and the obligation to act is Adam’s. The Lord sends two turtledoves
(like in most Slavonic texts), but now one kills the other, digs in the earth, and buries its mate. Adam,
observing the procedure, buries Cain. Perhaps the text is corrupt at that point; nothing is said in the
long recension about Abel’s fate but only about Cain’s penalty. What happened with Abel if Adam did
not learn from the turtledoves before Cain’s death how to bury a corpse? This variant shows yet again
how flexibly the bird paradigm, once established, could be used.
The second proof is the version included in the Kratkaja Chronografičeskaja Paleja. In 1995
I had access to it only via quotation.31 Meanwhile, our critical edition and translation of the whole
“monument” is already completed32 and allows one now to study the text more precisely. The
burial scene is part of the conflict story in general, introduced by the birth of the two brothers and
their two sisters. God accepts only Abel’s offering. Cain kills his brother with a stone because of
envy, instructed by the devil verbatim. The parents mourn 30 days long, until God sends two birds;
one bird dies, the other gives the example; Adam and Eve do the same thing. Here we find all the
27
F. Badalanova-Geller, Kniga suščaja v ustach. Folklornaja Biblija Bessarabskich i Tavričeskich Bolgar (Moskva: Russkij
fond sodejstvija obrazovaniju i nauke, 2017); the book has some traditions about Cain and Abel, but not about the bird’s
example.
28
F. Badalanova-Geller, “The Sea of Tiberias: Between Apocryphal Literature and Oral Tradition,” in The Old Testament
Apocrypha in Slavonic Tradition: Continuity and Diversity, ed. L. DiTommaso and C. Böttrich, TSAJ 140 (Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 2011), 13–157.
29
A. Kulik and S. Minov, Biblical Pseudepigrapha in Slavonic Tradition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 188–234.
30
Interestingly, Cain now suffers the same fate as his brother Abel: he is slain violently and lacks a proper burial for a certain
period.
31
That was A. A. Šachmatov, Povest’ vremennych let i ee istočniki, Trudy Otdela Drevnerusskoj Literatury 4 (Moskva: Akademija
Nauk, 1940), 140.
32
S. Fahl and D. Fahl, with the collaboration of E. G. Vodolazkin and T. Rudi, Kritische Edition mit deutscher Übersetzung,
vol. 1 of Die Kurze Chronographische Paleja, ed. C. Böttrich and E. G. Vodolazkin (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus,
2019); and D. Fahl, S. Fahl, and C. Böttrich, with the collaboration of M. Šibaev and I. Christov, in Einführung, Kommentar,
Indices, vol. 2 of Die Kurze Chronographische Paleja, ed. C. Böttrich and E. G. Vodolazkin (Gütersloh: Gütersloher
Verlagshaus, 2019).
main elements of the Slavonic tradition in their most condensed form. Some knowledge of the
broader story (as in the Tolkovaja Paleja) perhaps could be presupposed. But further information is
not necessary to understand the plot.
From these two further proofs one can learn something about the growing popularity, dissemination,
and modification of the little story in the Slavic countries. The bird’s example is well known and
widespread in texts of the elite as well as in folkloristic contexts. It exists in embroidered and in
condensed form, as part of a greater narration and as a simple epitomē. Most interesting is the fluid
exchange between ancient Jewish textual tradition and much later folkloristic creativity. The Slavonic
texts are good examples of this situation. Presumably, the Scandinavian versions are based on a stratum
of tradition depending on Russian collections like the Nestor chronicle, the Paleja literature, Pseudo-
Methodius, the field of erotapokriseis, and the Sea of Tiberias. Northern Europe became a special area
of interchange for traditions like that of Cain and the birds. Could it also have become a transit zone
in the direction of Western countries?
4. LOCAL TRACES ON GOTLAND: THE CHURCH IN HABLINGBO

An exciting example of such a cultural exchange is found on Gotland. Already at the beginning of the
Hanseatic League (since the twelfth century), Gotland was an important station on the route between
northern Germany and Russia.33 The flowering of Visby took place shortly before Lübeck became the
queen of the Baltic cities.34 In the middle of the thirteenth century, in many German places one can
find companies of so-called “Gotland travelers,”35 associations specialized in trade with Gotland. On
the other hand, merchants from Gotland had their own settlement in Novgorod and played the role of
intermediaries. Located “along the way,” the island of Gotland was an ideal place not only to handle
goods but also for cultural news or ideas.
The church in Hablingbo on Gotland36 clearly reveals such influence from eastern culture
(Figure 22.1). It contains a tympanon above the northern entrance presenting a remarkable
scene.37 In the middle, centrally and dominant, there is a figure sitting on a throne—obviously a
“maiestas Domini,”38 characterized by a cross-nimbus, clothed with imperial garb, the right hand
33
K. Friedland, “Gotland. Handelszentrum—Hanseursprung,” in Gotland: Tausend Jahre Kultur- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte
im Ostseeraum, ed. R. Bohn (Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke, 1988), 57–64; and M. North, The Baltic: A History, trans.
K. Kronenberg (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2015); trans. of Geschichte der Ostsee: Handel und Kulturen
(München: Beck, 2011).
34
R. Bohn, “Wisby—Die Keimzelle des hansischen Ostseehandels,” in Die Hanse—Lebenswirklichkeit und Mythos, ed. J.
Bracker (Lübeck: Schmidt-Römhild, 2006), 269–82.
35
They called themselves “universi mercatores imperii Romani Gotlandiam frequentantes”; cf. D. Kattinger, Die Gotländische
Genossenschaft: Der frühhansisch-gotländische Handel in Nord- und Westeuropa, Quellen und Darstellungen zur hansischen
Geschichte NF 47 (Köln: Böhlau, 1999).
36
Hablingbo is located near the southwest coast of the island. The church is one of the biggest on Gotland; its Gothic choir
and nave were added in the fourteenth century to the older tower, the relic of a Romanesque ensemble from twelfth to
thirteenth centuries. The amazing number of churches on Gotland (about ninety-two), all from the time of Romanesque
architecture, testifies to the wealth the residents of Gotland earned at that time from trade. Cf. E. Lagerlöf and G. Svahnström,
Die Kirchen Gotlands (Kiel: Conrad Stein Verlag, 1991), 152–6.
37
Possibly this is not its original location, which is presumed to have been at the southern main entrance; cf. Lagerlöf and
Svahnström, Kirchen Gotlands, 152.
38
Cf. F. van der Meer, “Maiestas Domini,” Lexikon der christlichen Ikonographie 3 (1974): 136–42. The motif is based on
Isa 6:1–4 and Ezek 1:4–28; mirrored in Rev 4:2–9; so it could better be called “the theophany of the Trishagion.” The Lord
FIGURE 22.1 Hablingbo Church, Gotland, Tympanon (second half of twelfth century), above the northern
entrance. The photograph was taken by my daughter Eva Böttrich during our summer vacation to Gotland
in August 2012.
raised in a gesture of blessing or admonition, and holding a book in his left hand. The surrounding
figures tell the story of Cain and Abel in three scenes. Next to the enthroned figure in the middle,
two men39 are approaching: the left one presents a sheaf of corn, the right one holds a lamb in his
arms.40 Behind Cain on the left one can see the devil in the form of a horned little monster, with
wings and claws,41 touching or pushing Cain forward and perhaps whispering something from
behind. Is Cain offering his gift already with diabolic intentions? The second scene in the left
corner, to the right of the throne by Abel’s side, depicts the murder: Cain, standing, attacks Abel,
already falling down, with a hoe; Cain performs his deed turned away from the throne, whereas
Abel is facing it. The third scene in the right-hand corner behind Cain and to the left of the throne
fills the space below the devil’s claws: two birds, doves rather than ravens,42 are standing face to
face, with the one pecking at the other on the head with his beak—apparently the moment of
murder corresponding to the scene in the opposite corner.
The tympanon in the Hablingbo church is a fascinating example of the apocryphal story
concerning Cain and the birds. Concentrated on the murder, it indicates a double influence on
is usually enthroned on the bow of heaven, often enclosed in a mandorla or in a circle. The simple seating in Hablingbo is
something special.
39
They wear a plait like men in the north used to have; their garments (especially the seam with a kind of hole pattern) could
betray French influence.
40
In Genesis 4, Cain and Abel present their offerings in front of an altar; similarly, the Hablingbo tympanon depicts the
throne in the form of a table hinting at an altar in a church. Thus, this object represents the place of encounter with the
preexistent as well as the exalted Christ.
41
In this form the devil has some similarities with the birds in the story.
42
The two birds are of different appearance; the active one seems to be a little bigger than the other.
Cain: indoctrinated by the devil and stimulated by the birds, Cain executes his deed. The devil seems
to stir up the evil plan while the birds bring about its realization. Nothing is depicted concerning the
burial, which plays a crucial role in the textual tradition. In the context of the whole scene telling
Genesis 4, the figure in the middle should be God, but the “maiestas Domini” model and all the
attributes point to Christ. Seen from a Christian perspective, Christ (as part of the Holy Trinity) is
already present in the Old Testament narration.43 With his raised fingers and holding a book (possibly
the book of life or deeds) he appears also in the habitus of a teacher warning the churchgoers against
fratricide and the insinuations of evil. War, violence, and murder were a bitter reality on Gotland in
the High Middle Ages. The Danish forces of King Waldemar IV Atterdag (1321–75) conquered the
island in 1361 and left behind extensive devastation. In addition, there was a conflict between the
trader-peasants on the island and the citizens of Visby. Congregants in Hablingbo were well aware
of what it means to raise one’s hand against one’s brother. The message of the Cain and Abel story,
quite popular in sacral art of this time,44 was understandable without any doubt.
But could the people in Hablingbo have also known the whole story behind the picture,
including that of Abel’s burial? The church is surrounded by a graveyard, like all the churches
of that time. A connection between the scenario above the door and the burial site in front of
it would be plausible. Of course, a question like “What could they have known?” is difficult to
answer. It is more reasonable to look for the possible influence on the artist. Which type of textual
tradition is mirrored in the Hablingbo relief? It is no far cry to seek for the Russian texts that were
evidently influential in the Scandinavian countries as well. But because of limited space, the three
scenes have too few details to identify a direct link. The Trinitarian God is the central figure—so
he should also be the orderer of the bird’s example. But the birds seem to belong more to the
devil’s party. God’s opponent, the devil, is directly present in the picture. He apparently has some
power, as in many dualistic traditions and folkloristic stories present in Slavic culture. But he looks
clearly inferior, mingy, and merely reliant on intrigue. Without the devil and the birds, the biblical
text of Genesis 4 would already be sufficient to understand the tympanon. Nevertheless, the devil
also needs no special explanation. Only the two birds refer to the apocryphal story. Whether
these birds are doves or not—Russia was undoubtedly the closest point of origin for the artist’s
inspiration.
Gotland was in the middle between East and West, on the route of traders. The masons’ guilds
on the island came from the Swedish mainland, in the case of Hablingbo probably from Tryde
in Schonen.45 They will have been acquainted with the Western Romanesque and Gothic style.
Art historians speak of influences from Westphalia and the Rhineland.46 Johnny Roosval, the
pioneer among the investigators of churches on Gotland, has named the anonymous master of
43
Famous examples are 1 Corinthians 1–4 (already in the New Testament), or the philoxenia scene of Genesis 18 according
to patristic interpretation; the Paleja tradition, in particular, is full of Christological readings of OT stories.
44
Cf. G. Henderson, “Abel und Kain,” Lexikon der christlichen Ikonographie 1 (1974): 5–10; and H. M. von Erffa, Ikonologie
der Genesis: Die christlichen Bildthemen aus dem Alten Testament und ihre Quellen 1 (München: Deutscher Kunstverlag,
1989), 246–385 (= 1.3.4 Kain und Abel).
45
Cf. H. Ost, “Mittelalterliches Kunstschaffen auf Gotland,” in Gotland: Tausend Jahre Kultur- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte
im Ostseeraum, ed. R. Bohn (Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke, 1988), 65–84, esp. 66; J. Roosval, Die Kirchen Gotlands: Ein
Beitrag zur mittelalterlichen Kunstgeschichte Schwedens (Leipzig: E.A. Seemann, 1912).
46
Cf. as well Ost, “Mittelalterliches Kunstschaffen,” 67 and 71, who identifies traces of Byzantine forms also for the
Hablingbo tympanon.
the Hablingbo tympanon “magister majestatis” because of his predilection for this motif,47 deeply
rooted in Western Romanesque symbolic language. But where does the element of the birds come
from? There is no prototype in Western culture, neither in art nor in literature.
If the stonemason in Hablingbo, the “master majestatis,” had knowledge of the Russian literary
tradition, it must have been of its earliest stratum. The Nestor chronicle can be dated to the eleventh–
twelfth centuries; the compilation of the Tolkovaja Paleja, already using translated texts, took place at the
end of the thirteenth century. The Hablingbo relief is one of the few late Romanesque masterpieces on
Gotland and belongs to the end of the twelfth century. So there is good reason to imagine a stonemason
from Sweden, working on the island where he became acquainted with informants (traders, travelers,
scholars, artists) from Russia, maybe Novgorod, who told him the apocryphal story from the newest
literature they just had read at home. In the absence of preexisting iconographic patterns and endowed
only with knowledge of a new story, the artist found his own way to embody this idea.
Presumably, the Hablingbo tympanon remained an isolated case. As far as I know, it has not
been copied or adapted elsewhere. Without a living, accompanying literary tradition, nobody could
understand the role and function of these two strange birds. Down to modern times, art historians
have not commented on or identified the birds in Hablingbo. They seem to regard them merely
as decorative elements. So it was perhaps the fate of “master majestatis” not to reach his viewers,
at least in this case. His bird’s scene did not encourage a further transfer of the motif from East to
West. It fell into oblivion again, hidden in the south of Gotland and far removed from the emerging
cultural life of the Western Hanseatic cities.
5. CONCLUSION: TEXT AND ICONOGRAPHY

Apocryphal traditions have spread not only via texts but also visually in the form of pictures. To
follow their traces, one has to be aware of both. But unfortunately we do not know enough about
apocryphal traditions in Christian iconography. Most of the material scholars have collected is
devoted to the deuterocanonical texts.48 Illustrations of apocryphal (noncanonical) texts still are
chance hits found here and there in a particular context49 but not really embedded in a broader
context of research.50 This is especially true concerning Old Testament texts and traditions.51
47
Cf. his profound opus, J. Roosval, Die Steinmeister Gotlands: Eine Geschichte der führenden Taufsteinwerkstätte des
schwedischen Mittelalters, ihre Voraussetzungen und Begleit-Erscheinungen (Stockholm: C.E. Fritzes K. Hofbokhandel,
1918), 145–68 (= X. Anonymous Majestatis).
48
Cf. E. Philpot, Old Testament Apocryphal Images in European Art (Göteborg: University of Gothenburg, 2009); the book
deals with Tobit, Judith, and the Additions to Esther and Daniel.
49
Cf. Böttrich, Geschichte Melchisedeks, 47–51 and 145–54, based on the lucky discovery of an abundantly illustrated
manuscript from Sinai; and T. N. Protaseva, “Pskovskaja Paleja 1477 goda,” in Drevnerusskoe iskusstvo: Chudožestvennaja
kultura Pskova (Moskva: Akademija Nauk SSSR, 1968), 97–108, who comments on a series of fifty-one illustrations in a
manuscript of the Paleja.
50
Exceptions are: H. M. von Erffa, Ikonologie der Genesis: Die christlichen Bildthemen aus dem Alten Testament und ihre
Quellen 1/2 (München: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 1989/95), who also carefully includes a lot of apocryphal traditions; and
M. Bernabò, Pseudepigraphical Images in Early Art, The Dead Sea Scrolls & Christian Origins Library 6 (North Richland
Hills: Bibal Press, 2001).
51
Well investigated are the iconographic traditions concerning NT apocrypha like the Protoevangelium of James (in the
Christmas icon and in the many cycles of the life of Mary) or the Gospel of Nicodemus (in the Anastasis, the Easter icon).
The field of sources appears to be manifold and complex, comprising wall paintings, stone or
wood cuttings, book illustrations, sculptures, and so on. Only in very few cases does one encounter
a direct correspondence between text and picture, as in illustrated manuscripts or in pictures
provided with inscriptions.52 Examples are problematic when totally isolated from their literary
basis like the tympanon relief in Hablingbo. If they have only a single element beyond the biblical
text they are in danger of being completely overlooked. So it is necessary to seek depictions not
only of whole stories but also of smaller segments, or features, or details. Iconographic traces of
apocryphal texts can also be found in modifications of otherwise well-established patterns. Or the
other way around, an illustration of an apocryphal text may avoid additional details and remain
faithful to the traditional type of depiction.
In the Eastern as well as in the Western tradition, there are many iconographic treasures still
waiting to be discovered. It seems to be a great task for specialists on both sides, theologians
and art historians, to explore this vast and stony field systematically together.53 To learn more
about the iconography of the Apocrypha could deepen our knowledge about its dissemination
and modification significantly. Images are not only decorative but also a constitutive part of the
reception history of texts, and an important part of their tradition. The little story of Cain and the
birds is an example of how revealing such tracking can be.54
6. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Andersen, F. I. “2 (Slavonic Apocalypse of) Enoch. (Late First Century A.D.): Appendix: 2 Enoch in
Merilo Pravednoe. A New Translation and Introduction.” Pages 91–221 in Apocalyptic Literature and
Aptowitzer, V. Kain und Abel in der Agada, den Apokryphen, der hellenistischen, christlichen und
muhammedanischen Literatur. Wien: Löwit, 1922.
Badalanova-Geller, F. Kniga suščaja v ustach: Folklornaja Biblija Bessarabskich i Tavričeskich Bolgar.
Moskva: Russkij fond sodejstvija obrazovaniju i nauke, 2017.
Badalanova-Geller, F. “The Sea of Tiberias: Between Apocryphal Literature and Oral Tradition.” Pages 13–157
in The Old Testament Apocrypha in Slavonic Tradition. Continuity and Diversity. Edited by L. DiTommaso
and C. Böttrich. TSAJ 140. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011.
Ben-Zaken, A. Reading Hayy Ibn-Yaqzān: A Cross-Cultural History of Autodidacticism. Baltimore, MD: Johns
Hopkins University Press, 2011.
Bernabò, M. Pseudepigraphical Images in Early Art. The Dead Sea Scrolls & Christian Origins Library 6. North
Richland Hills: Bibal Press, 2001.
Best, O. F., ed. Ibn Tufail: Der Ur-Robinson, das ist Der Lebende, Sohn des Wachenden oder Philosophus
autodidactus—Der von sich selbst gelehrte Philosoph. Ein philosophischer Roman. München: Matthes &
Seitz, 1987.
Bohn, R. “Wisby—Die Keimzelle des hansischen Ostseehandels.” Pages 269–82 in Die Hanse—
Lebenswirklichkeit und Mythos. Edited by J. Bracker. Lübeck: Schmidt-Römhild, 2006.
52
Illustrations in manuscripts are sometimes independent of the accompanying text and follow their own iconographic
tradition.
53
There was a session for the International Medieval Congress in July 2019 at the University of Leeds on the topic of
“Apocryphal Iconography: Integration and Adaptation.” This is the kind of research required to reach a more comprehensive
synthesis.
54
Thanks are due to my colleague Daniel Stein Kokin, who reviewed this article and improved its English.
Böttrich, C. Das slavische Henochbuch. JSHRZ V/7. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlag, 1995.
Böttrich, C. “Die Vögel des Himmels haben ihn begraben:” Überlieferungen zu Abels Bestattung und zur
Ätiologie des Grabes. SIJD 3. Göttingen: V&R, 1995.
Böttrich, C. Geschichte Melchisedeks. JSHRZ.NF II/1. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlag, 2010.
Böttrich, C. “Palaea / Paleja: Ein byzantinisch-slavischer Beitrag zu den europäischen Historienbibeln.” Pages
304–13 in Fragmentarisches Wörterbuch. Beiträge zur biblischen Exegese und christlichen Theologie. Edited
by K. Schiffner, K. Wengst, and W. Zager. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2007.
Böttrich, C. “Turandot in Georgien: Ein Beitrag zur Tradition biblischer Rätselfragen.” Georgica 17
(1994): 54–65.
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unter Mitarbeit von E. Vodolazkin and T. Rudi, Kritische Edition mit deutscher Übersetzung. Volume 2: D.
Fahl, S. Fahl and C. Böttrich unter Mitarbeit von M. Šibaev and I. Christov, Einführung, Kommentar,
Indices. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2019.
DiTommaso, L. “The Apocalypse of Pseudo-Methodius: Notes on a Recent Edition.” MEG 17 (2017): 311–21.
Erffa, H.-M. von. Ikonologie der Genesis. Die christlichen Bildthemen aus dem Alten Testament und ihre
Quellen 1/2. München: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 1989/95.
Fahl, D., S. Fahl, and C. Böttrich with the collaboration of M. Šibaev and I. Christov. Einführung, Kommentar,
Indices. Volume 2 of Die Kurze Chronographische Paleja. Edited by C. Böttrich and E. G. Vodolazkin.
Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2019.
Fahl, S., and D. Fahl with the collaboration of E. Vodolazkin and T. Rudi. Kritische Edition mit deutscher
Übersetzung. Volume 1 of Die Kurze Chronographische Paleja. Edited by C. Böttrich and E. G. Vodolazkin.
Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2019.
Friedland, K. “Gotland. Handelszentrum—Hanseursprung.” Pages 57–64 in Gotland. Tausend Jahre Kultur-
und Wirtschaftsgeschichte im Ostseeraum. Edited by R. Bohn. Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke, 1988.
Geiger, A. Was hat Mohammed aus dem Judenthume aufgenommen? Bonn: Selbstverlag, 1833. Repr.
Leipzig: Kaufmann, 1902.
Gibb, H. A. R., and J. H. Kramers. Shorter Encyclopaedia of Islam. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University
Press, 1953.
Hare, D. R. A. “The Lives of the Prophets (First Century A.D.),” Pages 379–99 in Expansions of the “Old
Testament” and Legends, Wisdom and Philosophical Literature, Prayers Psalms, and Odes, Fragments of
Lost Judaeo-Hellenistic Works. Vol. 2 of The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha. Edited by J. H. Charlesworth.
Henderson, G. “Abel und Kain.” Lexikon der christlichen Ikonographie 1 (1974): 5–10.
Jeremias, J. Heiligengräber in Jesu Umwelt (Mt. 23, 29; Lk. 11, 47): Eine Untersuchung zur Volksreligion der
Zeit Jesu. Göttingen: Vandenheock & Ruprecht, 1958.
Jonge, M. de, and J. Tromp. The Life of Adam and Eve and Related Literature. GAP. Sheffield: Academic
Press, 1997.
Joseph, M. “Leichenbestattung.” Jüdisches Lexikon 3 (1927): 1027–31.
Kattinger, D. Die Gotländische Genossenschaft: Der frühhansisch-gotländische Handel in Nord- und
Westeuropa. Quellen und Darstellungen zur hansischen Geschichte NF 47. Köln: Böhlau, 1999.
Kulik, A., and S. Minov. Biblical Pseudepigrapha in Slavonic Tradition. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016.
Lagerlöf, E., and G. Svahnström. Die Kirchen Gotlands. Kiel: Conrad Stein Verlag, 1991.
Meer, F. van der. “Maiestas Domini.” Lexikon der christlichen Ikonographie 3 (1974): 136–42.
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2015. Translation of Geschichte der Ostsee: Handel und Kulturen. München: Beck, 2011.
Ost, H. “Mittelalterliches Kunstschaffen auf Gotland.” Pages 65–84 in Gotland: Tausend Jahre Kultur- und
Wirtschaftsgeschichte im Ostseeraum. Edited by R. Bohn. Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke, 1988.
Philpot, E. Old Testament Apocryphal Images in European Art. Göteborg: University of Gothenburg, 2009.
Protaseva, T. N. “Pskovskaja Paleja 1477 goda.” Pages 97–108 in Drevnerusskoe iskusstvo: Chudožestvennaja
kultura Pskova. Moskva: Akademija Nauk SSSR, 1968.
Roosval, J. Die Kirchen Gotlands. Ein Beitrag zur mittelalterlichen Kunstgeschichte Schwedens. Leipzig: E.A.
Seemann, 1912.
Roosval, J. Die Steinmeister Gotlands: Eine Geschichte der führenden Taufsteinwerkstätte des schwedischen
Mittelalters, ihre Voraussetzungen und Begleit-Erscheinungen. Stockholm: C.E. Fritzes K. Hofbokhandel, 1918.
Rudolph, W. Die Abhängigkeit des Qorans von Judentum und Christentum. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1922.
Rüger, H. P. “Das Begräbnis Abels. Zur Vorlage von Sure 5,31.” Biblische Notizen 14 (1981): 37–45.
Šachmatov, A. A. Povest’ vremennych let i ee istočniki. Trudy Otdela Drevnerusskoj Literatury
4. Moskva: Rossijskaja Akademija Nauk, 1940.
Santos Otero, A. de. “Alttestamentliche Pseudepigrapha und die sogenannte ‘Tolkovaja Paleja’ [TP].” Pages
107–22 in Oecumenica et Patristica. Edited by D. Papandreou, W. A. Bienert, and K. Schäferdiek.
Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1989.
Schreiner, S., ed. Ibn Tufail: Hajj ibn Jaqzan der Naturmensch: Ein philosophischer Robinson-Roman aus dem
arabischen Mittelalter. Leipzig: Kiepenheuer, 1983.
Schwemer, A.-M. Vitae Prophetarum. JSHRZ 1/7. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlag, 1997.
Stone, M. E. A History of the Literature of Adam and Eve. SBLEJL 3. Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press 1992.
Wißmann, H., P. Welten, M. Brocke, and H. Merkel. “Bestattung I-V.” Theologische Realenzyklopädie 5
(1980): 730–57.
Zenger, E. “Das alttestamentliche Israel und seine Toten.” Pages 132–52 in Der Umgang mit den Toten: Tod
und Bestattung in der christlichen Gemeinde. Edited by K. Richter. QD 123. Freiburg: Herder, 1990.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Die Bedeutung der Assumptio

Mosis für die Erforschung des
frühen Christentums
JAN DOCHHORN
1. EINLEITUNG
Thema dieses Beitrags zur Ehrung eines für die Parabiblica-/Pseudepigraphenforschung und ihre
Anbindung an die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft in hohem Maße bedeutenden Gelehrten ist
ein leider nicht vollständig erhaltener Text, der in der Forschung zum antiken Judentum und
zum Neuen Testament seit nunmehr ca. 150 Jahren diskutiert wird, in seinem Potential für die
religionsgeschichtliche Erklärung des Judentums und Christentums im ersten Jahrhundert nach
Christus aber trotzdem noch etwas mehr gewürdigt werden kann als bisher. Es handelt sich um
die Assumptio Mosis,1 die Himmelfahrt des Moses; in der Forschung ist auch der Titel Testament
des Mose in Gebrauch (nicht mit guten Gründen, vgl. §2). Ich möchte im Folgenden zunächst den
Inhalt der Assumptio Mosis skizzieren (§2), danach in Kürze meine Sicht zur historischen Verortung
dieser Schrift präsentieren (§3) und anschließend anhand von einigen Beispielen darlegen, was die
Assumptio Mosis zur Erforschung des frühen Christentums beitragen kann (§4).
2. DER ÜBERLIEFERUNGSBESTAND DER ASSUMPTIO MOSIS

Wir haben, was wir von der Assumptio Mosis haben, aus christlicher Hand; im Judentum aus der
Zeit nach der Tempelzerstörung haben sich keine für uns wahrnehmbaren Reste dieses Werkes
erhalten. Das wichtigste Fragment entstammt einem in der Bibliotheca Ambrosiana in Mailand
aufbewahrten lateinischen Textzeugen aus dem 6. Jahrhundert. Der Text umfaßt 16 Seiten eines
1
Entscheidend für Erforschung der Assumptio Mosis war die Erstedition des wichtigsten Fragments bei Ceriani, vgl. Anm.
2. Als Textausgaben lege ich hier zugrunde C. Clemen, ed., The Assumptio Mosis (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1904); und J. Tromp: The Assumption of Moses. A Critical Edition with Commentary (SVTP 10; Leiden: Brill, 1993). Der
Text von Tromp repräsentiert im Vergleich mit dem bei Clemen einen fortgeschrittenen Stand der dringend erforderlichen
Konjekturalkritik am wichtigsten Fragment der Assumptio Mosis, während Clemen anders als Tromp (und andere) ein
zutreffendes Dossier der Fragmente bietet, vgl. hierzu die Begründung bei J. Dochhorn, „Der Tod des Mose in der Assumptio
Mosis,“ in M. Sommer et al., Hrsgg., Mosebilder. Gedanken zur Rezeption einer literarischen Figur im Frühjudentum, frühen
Christentum und der römisch-hellenistischen Literatur (WUNT 390; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017), 167–85, sp. 167–74.
Als weitere Textausgaben vgl. etwa O.F. Fritzsche, ed., Libri Veteris Testamenti apocryphi graece (Leipzig, 1871), 700–30;
und R. H. Charles, The Assumption of Moses (London, 1897).
Palimpsests, einer Handschrift, die im 8. Jahrhundert ausgelöscht und neu beschriftet wurde, so
daß der ursprüngliche Text aus dem 6. Jahrhundert nur noch unter Mühen entziffert werden kann.2
Dieser Text ist in den ersten Zeilen unleserlich; es ist damit gerade die Überschrift, die nicht mehr
zu erkennen ist. Dennoch können wir uns—trotz gegenteiliger Auffassungen in der Forschung—
einigermaßen sicher sein, daß unser Text zu einem Werk gehört, dem der Titel „Assumptio Mosis“
gebührt, denn unter dem Titel Ἀνάληψις Μωσέως zitiert eine anonyme Kirchengeschichte aus dem
5. Jahrhundert, die später unter dem Namen Gelasius umherlief, ein Stück griechischen Textes,
der Kap. 1,6.14 des Mailänder Textes entspricht.3 Am Schluß der 16. Seite bricht der Mailänder
Text unvermittelt ab; wie viele Seiten fehlen, läßt sich nicht ermessen.4 Geschrieben ist er in einem
stark mit Vulgarismen durchsetzten Latein; zahlreiche Gräzismen lassen—wie schon die Paralelle
bei Ps-Gelasius—auf eine griechische Vorlage schließen;5 ob diese wiederum aus einem hebräischen
oder aramäischen Original übersetzt wurde, soll hier offen gelassen werden.
Was uns in dem Mailänder Text erhalten ist, erscheint einigermaßen aufsehenerregend: Wir
haben es mit einer Abschiedsrede des Mose vor Josua zu tun, in der Moses hauptsächlich einen
prophetischen Überblick über die—aus seiner Warte—kommende Geschichte Israels gibt.
Er erzählt in knapper Form, ohne Klarnamen zu nennen und unter Verwendung rätselhafter
Zahlenangaben, die Geschichte Israels von der Landnahme über das Exil bis zu den Makkabäern
(As. Mos. 2:1–6:1). Es folgt ein relativ detaillierter Abschnitt über Herodes (6:2–6), der über eine
ungewöhnlich leicht verständliche Information zu seiner Regierungszeit besonders hervorgehoben
wird: Wir erfahren, daß der auch hier anonym bleibende König 34 Jahre lang regierte (6:4),
und so lange regierte Herodes tatsächlich. Danach werden dessen Nachkommen erwähnt, die—
so der Text—nicht so lange regieren würden wie Herodes selbst (6:7). Anschließend erfahren
wir von einen Tempelbrand und der Kreuzigung jüdischer Rebellen (6:8–9), und daraufhin
wird eine—durch Schadstellen in der Handschrift unverständlich gewordene—Berechnung der
Endzeit geboten (7:1–2). Danach wird ein endzeitliches Szenario präsentiert, das folgendermaßen
aussieht: Zuerst wird eine Gruppe von Leuten herrschen, die sich für gerecht halten, dabei jedoch
auf unredliche Weise ihren Besitz vermehren und über unverhältnismäßig gute Ressourcen für
üppige Gastmähler verfügen (7:3–9). Danach wird der König der Könige der Erde über Israel
herrschen und alle verfolgen, die sich zur Religion Israels, unter anderem zur Beschneidung
bekennen (As. Mos. 8). In dieser Zeit wird sich ein Mann mit dem rätselhaften Namen Taxo, ein
Levit mit religiös untadeligen Vorfahren, zusammen mit seinen sieben Söhnen in eine Höhle auf
dem Felde zurückziehen und dort um des jüdischen Glaubens willen den Tod erleiden (As. Mos.
9). Daraufhin ereignet sich nicht gerade Unbeträchtliches: Es wird das Königreich Gottes manifest
(10:1a), der Teufel und mit ihm die Trübsal werden abgeführt (10:1b), und ein himmlischer
2
Vgl. A. M. Ceriani: Monumenta Sacra et Profana ex Codicibus praesertim Bibliothecae Ambrosianae, Tomus I (Milano,
1861), 10–13 (Einleitung; Beschreibung der Handschrift); 55–62 (Text); 64 (Anmerkungen). Neben der Assumptio
Mosis überliefert der Palimpsest Teile der lateinischen Version des Jubiläenbuchs, vgl. den Text bei Ceriani 15–54 und die
Anmerkungen dort auf S. 63–64.
3
Vgl. Pseudo-Gelasius, Commentarius Actorum Nicenae Synodi II,17,17 nach G.C. Hansen, ed., Anonyme Kirchengeschichte
(Gelasius Cyzicenus, CPG 6034) (GCS, Neue Folge 9; Berlin, 2002), 58. Zum Titel der Assumptio Mosis vgl. die Diskussion
bei Dochhorn, „Tod des Mose,“ 167–74.
4
Zur Handschrift vgl. E.-M. Laperrousaz, Le Testament du Moïse (généralement appelé ‘Assomption de Moïse’), Traduction
avec introduction et notes (Semitica 19; Paris 1970), 8–12.
5
Zum Latein des Mailänder Fragments vgl. Tromp, Assumption, 27–77.
DIE BEDEUTUNG DER ASSUMPTIO MOSIS
Bote, der Israel repräsentiert, wird im Himmel erhöht werden (10:2a); dieser wird Israel an
seinen Feinden rächen (10:2a), und Israel kann sich, auf dem Rücken eines mächtigen Adlers
gen Himmel erhoben und zum Erbe des Sternenhimmels eingesetzt, aus souveräner Höhenlage
das Ergehen seiner Feinde in der durch das endzeitliche Sichtbarwerden Gottes ausgelösten
kosmischen Katastrophe betrachten (10:2b–10). Es folgt eine Unterhaltung zwischen Moses und
Josua (10:11ff.), in der Josua unter anderem den Tod des Mose bedauert, und inmitten dieser
Unterhaltung bricht unser Text ab (12:13).
Es wäre gut, wenn wir wüßten, wie es weitergeht, aber dies muß uns jetzt nicht bekümmern,
denn für das hier verfolgte Anliegen werde ich mich auf die Geschichtsprophetie des Mose in
As. Mos. 2–10 beschränken. Nur so viel sei gesagt: Wie ich an anderer Stelle ausführlich und
im Einklang mit älterer Forschung dargelegt habe, lassen Testimonien und Zitate bei Clemens
Alexandrinus, Origenes, Didymus von Alexandrien und Ps-Gelasius den Schluß zu, daß in den
verlorengegangenen Partien von einem Streitgespräch des Erzengels Michael mit dem Teufel über
der Leiche des Mose erzählt wurde, welches den drei erstgenannten Kirchenschriftstellern zufolge
auch im Judasbrief (Jude 9) aufgenommen wurde.6 Wir haben damit den Judasbrief als einen—
allerdings etwas unklaren—Terminus ante quem für die Datierung der Assumptio Mosis.
3. HISTORISCHE VERORTUNG DER ASSUMPTIO MOSIS

Aber eine genauere Verortung der Assumptio Mosis ist möglich, und sie ergibt sich—wie bei vielen
prophetischen Geschichtsüberblicken aus dem frühen Judentum—daraus, in welchem geschichtlichen
Kontext der Erzähler-Prophet die Endzeit ansetzt. Dieser Kontext aber ist in der Assumptio Mosis,
wie sich bereits angedeutet hat, die Zeit nach Herodes dem Großen. Über diese Zeit erfahren
wir, daß nach 34 Regierungsjahren des Herodes seine Söhne kürzer als ihr Vater regieren würden
(6,7), und wir erfahren weiterhin von Truppen eines Königs aus dem Westen, einem Tempelbrand
und der Kreuzigung von Juden (6:8–9).7 Direkt im Anschluß an diese Vorkommnisse folgen—
wie bereits mitgeteilt—Endzeitberechnungen (7:1–2) sowie die Voraussage einer Herrschaft von
sogenannten Gerechten (7:3–9), abgelöst von der Herrschaft des Königs der Könige der Erde (8),
dem Martyrium des Taxo (9) und der Sichtbarwerdung von Gottes Königsherrschaft (10). Nichts
in Ass Mos 7–10 läßt sich mit tatsächlichen Ereignissen der Geschichte verbinden, und genau darin
verrät sich der reale Verfasser der Assumptio Mosis. Schon die Angabe über die Regierungszeit der
Söhne des Herodes ist nicht richtig; sowohl Philippus als auch Antipas regierten länger als ihr Vater
(Philippus: 4 v. Chr. – 34 n. Chr.; Antipas: 4 v. Chr. – 39 n. Chr.); nur für Archelaos, der von 4
v. Chr. bis 6 n. Chr. in Judäa, Idumäa und Samaria herrschte, gilt dies nicht.8 Irgendwann nach dem
Tod des Herodes, und zwar nicht allzu lange danach, ist unser Verfasser also anzusetzen, und so
6
Vgl. Dochhorn, „Tod des Mose.“
7
Der lateinische Text liest sich an der betreffenden Stelle indes—wie auch sonst—nicht gerade flüssig; im Ambrosianus
steht: in pares eorum mortis uenient et occidentes rex potens quia expugnabit eos et ducent captiuos et partem aedis ipsorum
igni incendit aliquos crucifigit circa coloniam eorum; zu lesen ist wohl in par<t>es eorum <coh>ort<e>s uenient et
occident<i>s rex potens qui{a} expugnabit eos et duce{n}t captiuos et partem aedis ipsorum igni incend<e>t aliquos
crucifig<e>t circa coloniam eorum. Viele dieser Konjekturen finden sich bei Clemen, Assumptio Mosis, 9, alle bei Fritzsche,
Libri Apocryphi, 713. Nicht zu klären ist hier, welche Soloezismen schon auf den Übersetzer zurückgehen.
8
Vgl. die Angaben bei Martin Noth, Geschichte Israels (Göttingen, 1954), 376–9.
wird es in der Forschung—wenn auch nicht einhellig—schon seit längerem gesehen.9 Läßt sich über
diesen Forschungsstand hinaus eine präzisere historische Verortung vornehmen?
Ich habe anderenorts versucht, genau dies zu tun,10 und ich kann hier die von mir favorisierte
Sicht nur kurz skizzieren: Am plausibelsten erscheint es mir, den Tempelbrand—wie 1904 schon Carl
Clemen—mit den Ereignissen im Interregnum nach dem Tod des Herodes zu assoziieren,11 als Unruhen
Palästina erschütterten,12 wobei Römer auch, um Aufständische zu bekämpfen, einen Brand am Tempel
verursachten13 und schließlich Varus nach Beendigung der Auseinandersetzungen 2000 Rebellen
kreuzigte.14 Weiterhin sehe es ich als ein wichtiges Indiz, daß direkt im Anschluß an dieses Ereignis in
der Assumptio Mosis Endzeitberechnungen einsetzen. Dies legt die für meine These kennzeichnende
Annahme nahe, daß alles, was darauf erfolgt, echte Endzeitprophetie ist, einschließlich der Herrschaft
der sogenannten Gerechten und der endzeitlichen Verfolgung der Religion Israels durch den König der
Könige. Der Verfasser erwartet also zuerst die Herrschaft von Leuten, die sich als gerecht bezeichnen
und erkennbar der Religion Israels angehören, bevor ein endzeitlicher Weltherrscher über Israel
regieren wird.
Ein solches Szenario lag meines Erachtens während der Regierungszeit des Archelaos in den
Jahren 4 v. Chr. bis 6. n. Chr. ohne weiteres nahe: Zu Beginn seiner Herrschaft haben Josephus
zufolge jüdische Notabeln gegen die Dynastie des Herodes erfolglos Beschwerde eingelegt, und
zwar mit dem Ziel, eine römische Direktherrschaft zu erreichen, die mehr jüdische Autonomierechte
ermöglichen sollte.15 Gegen Ende seiner Herrschaft unternahmen jüdische und dazu noch
samaritanische Notabeln laut Josephus ähnliches noch einmal—und diesmal mit dem Erfolg, der
schon zuvor angestrebt worden war: Archelaos wurde abgesetzt und eine römische Direktherrschaft
errichtet.16 Allerdings erfüllte diese Direktherrschaft dann nicht die Hoffnung auf mehr jüdische
Autonomie; jedenfalls sieht es bei Josephus danach nicht aus: Schon die Steuerschätzung des
Quirinius, mit dem die neue Regierung gewissermaßen ihren Einstand gab, erfreute sich kaum
allgemeiner Beliebtheit.17
Wichtig ist hier vor allem: Es hat den Anschein, daß Archelaos mit Widerständen aus der jüdischen
Oberschicht konfrontiert war, die auch nach zehn Regierungsjahren noch durchaus virulent
erschienen. Dies könnte eine Situation gewesen sein, in welcher der Verfasser der Assumptio Mosis
mit einer Machtübernahme durch eine jüdische Elite in Palästina rechnen konnte, von der er freilich
wenig Gutes erwartete. Unser Verfasser wußte zudem das römische Imperium im Hintergrund
und konnte daher ahnen, daß eine solche Periode jüdischer Autonomie nur vorübergehend sein
9
Zur Datierung der Assumptio Mosis vgl. schon die Diskussion diverser Forschungsmeinungen bei E. Schürer, Geschichte des
jüdischen Volkes im Zeitalter Jesu Christi (3 Bände; Leipzig 1901-09; Nachdruck: Hildesheim 1964), 3.294-305, sp. 298-
300; für ihn hat der Verfasser bald nach dem Varuskriege geschrieben (299).
10
J. Dochhorn, „Zur Krise der Gerechtigkeit im frühen Judentum. Reflexionen über das Entstehungsmilieu des frühen
Christentums,“ BN 155 (2012): 77–111, sp. 88–100.
11
Clemen, Assumptio Mosis, 9 (im Apparat).
12
Josephus, Ant. 17.206–298, nach B. Niese, ed., Flavii Iosephi Opera (7 Bände; Berlin, 1887–95; Nachdruck: Berlin 1955),
4.108–26.
13
Josephus, Ant. 17.261–264 (Niese, 4.119–20).
14
Josephus, Ant. 17.295 (Niese, 4.126).
15
16
17
würde und durch etwas abgelöst werden sollte, das ihm noch schrecklicher erscheinen mußte, nicht
zuletzt aufgrund der Vorgehensweise des Varus, die bei ihm offenbar einen besonderen Eindruck
hinterließ.18 Ich halte es daher für plausibel, die Assumptio Mosis in der Zeit des Archelaos zu
verorten, und zwar am ehesten im Herrschaftsbereich des Archelaos selbst, da der Verfasser offenbar
ein aufmerksamer und teilhabender Beobachter der politischen Vorgänge in diesem Gebiet ist.
4. DIE BEDEUTUNG DER ASSUMPTIO MOSIS FÜR DIE

ERFORSCHUNG DES FRÜHEN CHRISTENTUMS
Es steht zu vermuten, daß eine Schrift des palästinischen Judentums, die sich in unmittelbarer Nähe
zur Zeitenwende datieren läßt, für die religionsgeschichtliche Erklärung des frühen Christentums
von Bedeutung sein kann. Dieser Erwartung entspricht die Assumptio Mosis in der Tat, und zwar
nicht zuletzt aufgrund ihres eschatologischen Szenarios, wie im Folgenden anhand von einigen
Beispielen gezeigt werden soll:
(1) Die Assumptio Mosis erwartet für die Zukunft eine Herrschaft von Leuten, die sich für
gerecht halten, in der Sicht der Assumptio Mosis aber wegen ihres Sozialverhaltens zu kritisieren
sind 7:3–9). Sie verzehren die Güter, vermutlich von anderen Menschen (der Text ist an dieser Stelle
partiell unleserlich), und behaupten, dies um der Armenfürsorge willen zu tun (7:6); sie lassen ein
Interesse an Reinheitsvorschriften erkennen (7:9) und gleichzeitig eine Vorliebe für Gastmähler
(7:4, 8), und offensichtlich schreibt unser Verfasser ihnen auch ein Interesse an der Ausübung
von Macht zu (7:8). Interessant erscheint hier vor allem, daß es eine sich anscheinend religiös
definierende und zugleich wohlhabende Elite ist. Es handelt sich um gesellschaftlich Privilegierte,
die ein religiös bestimmtes Selbstverständnis haben, das ihnen auch einer ihrer Gegner, der Verfasser
der Assumptio Mosis, konzedieren muß: Sie halten sich für „Gerechte” (7:3: docentes se esse
iustos). In diesem Zusammenhang aber wird genau das fraglich, worauf sie sich berufen, nämlich
der Begriff der Gerechtigkeit: Sie nennen sich gerecht, aber das wird ihnen abgesprochen. Das Ideal
der Gerechtigkeit wird damit zum Gegenstand der Diskussion; was sich hier abzeichnet, ist eine
Krise der Gerechtigkeit im Judentum Palästinas. Eine solche Krise der Gerechtigkeit läßt sich auch
in der Jesusüberlieferung aufzeigen: So wird etwa in Q-Überlieferung den Pharisäern, typischen
Repräsentanten dieses Ideals, vorgeworfen, daß sie an Reinheitsvorschriften mehr interessiert seien
als an einem Sozialverhalten, das die Interessen schwächerer Glieder der Gesellschaft berücksichtige
(vgl. Luke 11:39–41, 42 par.), und das Markusevangelium hält den Schriftgelehrten—vielleicht mit
einer Parallele in As. Mos. 7:6—vor, daß sie die Häuser der Witwen verzehrten (Mark 12:40).19
Aufgrund der Assumptio Mosis können wir vermuten, daß die Jesusbewegung hier eine bereits
18
Der Krieg des Varus wurde offenbar auch sonst als einschneidendes Ereignis empfunden: Josephus erwähnt ihn in Ag. Ap.
1.34–35 (Niese, 6.8) in einer Reihe von vier Kriegen, die „unser Land“ betrafen (genannt werde der Krieg des Antiochus
Epiphanes, des Pompejus Magnus, des Quintilius Varus und der jüdische Krieg).
19
Vgl. οἱ κατεσθίοντες τὰς οἰκίας τῶν χηρῶν in Mark 12:40 und uidua](r)(u)(m) bonorum com(e)stores in As. Mos. 7:6. Die
in runde Klammern gesetzten Buchstaben sind schwer lesbar, die Buchstaben außerhalb der eckigen Klammer sind ergänzt.
Clemen (Assumptio Mosis, 10) nimmt die Ergänzung noch nicht vor, verzeichnet aber vor (r)(u)(m) eine Lücke von fünf
Buchstaben, die eine solche Ergänzung erlaubt. Vorgeschlagen wurde die Ergänzung von W.J. Deane, Pseudepigrapha: An
Account of Certain Apocryphal Sacred Writings of the Jews and Early Christians (Edinburgh, 1891), 115 (dort Anm. 2). Ich
wage den Hinweis, daß auch nicht viel geschehen muß, damit *domorum zu bonorum wird. Die Editoren Fritzsche, Libri
apocryphi, 715, und Charles, Assumption of Moses, 78–-79 lesen paupe]rum.
bestehende Kritik an gesellschaftlich gut gestellten Repräsentanten des Ideals der Gerechtigkeit
aufnimmt. Und es läßt sich vermuten, daß dieser Trend nach Aufkommen der Jesusbewegung im
Judentum nicht verschwunden ist: Noch im zweiten Jahrhundert soll Rabbi Aqiba gesagt haben,
daß er in der Zeit, da er noch dem Am Ha-Aretz angehörte, dem „Volk des Landes“ (was auch
immer das bedeutet), einen „Gelehrtenschüler“ (‫ )הכם תלמיד‬habe beißen wollen wie ein Esel (vgl. b.
Pesah�. 49b).20
(2) Die Assumptio Mosis erwartet für die Zeit direkt vor dem Ende, daß der „König der Könige
der Erde“ eine Religionsverfolgung über die Juden hereinbrechen lassen werde. Vielfach wird in
der Forschung bemerkt, daß diese Religionsverfolgung an die Politik des Antiochus Epiphanes
erinnert, wie sie im ersten Makkabäerbuch wahrgenommen wird (vgl. 1 Macc 1:10–64).21 Hier
wie dort etwa betrifft die Verfolgung unter anderem diejenigen, die ihre Söhne beschneiden (As.
Mos. 8:1 // 1 Macc 1:48). Auch das bereits erwähnte Martyrium des Taxo gehört, wie ich meine,
in diesen Zusammenhang: Ein Levit mit sieben Söhnen, der um der jüdischen Religion willen den
Tod erleidet, kann als Überbietung der ausweislich des zweiten und vierten Makkabäerbuchs im
antiken Judentum prominenten Geschichte vom Märtyrertod der sieben Söhne einer jüdischen
Mutter zur Zeit des Antiochus Epiphanes verstanden werden (vgl. 2 Macc 7; 4 Macc). Mit der
Erwartung eines solchen Gewaltherrschers läßt die Assumptio Mosis ein apokalyptisches Szenario
erkennen, das in der nachfolgenden eschatologischen Literatur des antiken Christentums zahlreiche
Parallelen finden wird: Bevor die endgültige Heilswende kommt, so das Szenario, wird ein
endzeitlicher Weltherrscher das Gottesvolk bedrängen. In der Apokalypse des Johannes nimmt
diese Rolle das Tier aus dem Meere wahr, das für Nero redivivus stehen dürfte und vor der Parusie
Christi die Christen verfolgt (Rev 13:1–8), und bei den Kirchenschriftstellern Irenäus und Hippolyt
findet sich gegen Ende des zweiten und am Anfang des dritten Jahrhunderts die Erwartung eines
jüdischen Antichrists,22 die vielleicht schon in John 5:43 angedeutet ist. Die Assumptio Mosis zeigt
uns, daß die christliche Endtyrannenmotivik eine jüdische Vorgeschichte hat, und sie zeigt auch,
20
Vgl. hierzu A. Oppenheimer, The ’Am Ha-Aretz. A Study in the Social History of the Jewish People in the Hellenistic-Roman
Period (ALGHJ 8; Leiden: Brill, 1977), 176–7. Es heißt in b. Pesah�. 49b: »Es ist überliefert: Rabbi Aqiba sagte: „Als ich Am
Haaretz war, sagte ich:,Wer gibt mir einen Gelehrtenschüler, daß ich ihn beiße wie ein Esel (‫ “ ‘?)חמור‬Seine Schüler sagten
zu ihm: „Rabbi, sage,wie ein Hund‘ “! Er sagte zu ihnen: „Der beißt und zermalmt Knochen, und der beißt und zermalmt
keine Knochen.“« Der Kontext der Geschichte zeigt, daß eine solche Abneigung des Aqiba vor seiner Rabbinenzeit durchaus
berechtigt scheint: Es finden sich dort lauter gehässige Aussprüche über den Am Ha-Aretz. Esel können im Übrigen, wie eine
kurze Internetrecherche ergibt, zuweilen tatsächlich aggressiv werden. Dem Hund scheint Aqiba aber größere Gefährlichkeit
zu attestieren. Wahrscheinlich hält Aqiba seine einstige Wut für vergleichsweise harmlos und nicht wesensbedingt.
21
Clemen, Assumptio Mosis, notiert im Apparat zu As. Mos. 8:1–2, daß der Verfasser mit dem dort erwähnten Verfolger den
Antichrist meine, für den Antiochus Epiphanes Modell stehe. Passender ist der Begriff »Endtyrann«; der Begriff Antichrist
sollte auf die christliche Vorstellung von einem jüdischen (Pseudo-) Messias als Endtyrannen reserviert bleiben, wie er etwa bei
Irenäus und Hippolyt belegt ist. Die Antiochus-Reminiszenzen nahm Charles, Assumption of Moses, 29-30, als historischen
Bericht (bzw. Vaticinium ex eventu) und postulierte, As. Mos. 8–9 hätten einmal zwischen As. Mos. 5–6 gestanden, wo Charles
Referenzen auf die Makkabäerzeit vermißt. Nickelsburg nimmt aufgrund dieser Kapitel eine Entstehung der As. Mos. zur
Zeit der makkabäischen Revolte an; As. Mos. 6 und vielleicht auch 7 sei ein späterer Einschub, mit dem die Endzeitprophetie
des Mose nachträglich auf Herodes bezogen würde, vgl. G.W.E. Nickelsburg, „An Antiochan Date for the Testament of
Moses,“ in Nickelsburg, Hrsg., Studies on the Testament of Moses (SCS 4; Cambridge, 1973), 33–7. Zur Kritik dieser These
vgl. K. Atkinson, “Taxo’s Martyrdom and the Role of the Nuntius in the Testament of Moses,” JBL 125 (2006): 453–76,
sp. 457–67. Ich halte literarkritische Operationen für weniger plausibel als die oben vorgetragene Erklärung.
22
Vgl. die Aussagen des Irenäus über den Antichrist in Haer. 5.25–30 sowie Hippolytus, Antichr., insbes. 20–29 (Auslegung
von Dan 7 in Zusammenschau mit Dan 2).
warum die Idee von einem Endtyrannen im Judentum Platz greifen konnte: Die Assumptio Mosis
sieht die Zeit vor dem Ende als eine Rekapitulation der Zeit vor dem Makkabäeraufstand und
rechnet eben deshalb mit einem Endtyrannen, der wie Antiochus das Gottesvolk bedrängen wird.
Konstitutiv für diese Endtyrannenkonzeption ist also die Vorstellung von einer Rekapitulation der
Vormakkabäerzeit vor der Heilswende.
(3) Das bereits erwähnte Martyrium des Taxo ist in mehrfacher Hinsicht aufsehenerregend: Die
Diskussion über Taxo fokussierte bisher auf den rätselhaften Namen dieser Gestalt. Hier komme
ich, wie ich zugeben muß, genauso wenig weiter wie es der Forschung anscheinend bisher gelungen
ist; der Überblick über die Forschungsdiskussion, den Tromp 1993 in seinem gelehrten Kommentar
gegeben hat, wirkt ein wenig entmutigend.23 Gleichwohl kann Relevantes über Taxo gesagt werden,
und zwar vor allem über seine Funktion: Offensichtlich ist mit ihm die Heilswende verbunden.
Damit ist es aber nicht ein Messias, also jemand, der königliche Macht beansprucht, der für die
Heilswende auf menschlicher Seite wichtig erscheint, sondern ein religiös untadeliger Levit, der—
zusammen mit seinen sieben Söhnen—ein Martyrium erleidet. Man kann sich fragen, ob er damit
einen Kontrast abgeben soll zu den vermutlich an die Messiastradition anknüpfenden Rebellen, die
den Berichten des Josephus zufolge nach dem Tod des Herodes die Königswürde beanspruchten und
sämtlich nach zum Teil erbittertem Kampf von den Römern besiegt wurden.24 Vielleicht bezeugt die
Assumptio Mosis damit eine Ernüchterung in Bezug auf Messiasprätendenten, die möglicherweise
auch in der Zeit nach Archelaos anhielt. Es fällt zumindest auf, daß sowohl Judas von Gamala
alias Judas Galilaios, der gegen die Steuerschätzung des Quirinius nach dem Ende des Archelaos
rebellierte,25 als auch andere bei Josephus genannte religiös-politische Führer, etwa Johannes
der Täufer26 und nach ihm etwa der Zeichenprophet Theudas,27 nicht erkennbar messianisches
Gepräge tragen; wie es sich mit einem Messiasanspruch des Jesus von Nazareth verhält und ob
Josephus Jesus überhaupt zur Kenntnis nimmt, lassen wir jetzt einmal dahingestellt.28 Wichtig für
die Jesusforschung erscheint etwas anderes: Die Bedeutung des Taxo für die Heilswende besteht
vor allem darin, daß er stirbt. Einem Christen ist ein solches Phänomen nicht ganz unbekannt. Auch
Jesus stirbt. Für die in der sogenannten Third Quest wieder neu verhandelte Frage, ob vielleicht
schon der historische Jesus seinen Tod theologisch konzeptualisierte,29 wird daher die Assumptio
Mosis nicht ganz unbedeutend sein. Doch auch abgesehen von der Frage nach dem historischen
Jesus wird man erörtern können, ob die Assumptio Mosis helfen kann, den Traditionshintergrund
von Überlieferungen zum Tod Jesu zu rekonstruieren: Erwartet Jesus, ob nun der historische oder
23
Tromp, Assumption of Moses, 124–-28.
24
Vgl. Josephus, Ant. 17.271–272 (Niese, 4.121-22) // J.W. 2.56 (Niese, 6.165): Judas, Sohn des Hesekias; Ant. 17.273–277
(Niese, 4.122) // J.W. 57–59 (Niese 6.165-66): Simon, ein Knecht des Herodes; Josephus, Ant. 17.278–284 (Niese, 4.123–
24) // J.W. 60–65 (Niese 6.166–67): Athronges.
25
Josephus, Ant. 18.1–10 (Niese 4.140–41); 23–25 (Niese, 4.144); 20.102 (Niese, 4.293); J.W. 2.118 (Niese, VI.176); 433
(Niese, 6.234); 7.253 (Niese, 6.603).
26
27
Josephus, Ant. 20.97–99 (Niese, 4.292).
28
Bei Josephus gibt es bekanntlich zwei Referenzen auf Jesus, vgl. das Testimonium Flavianum in Ant. 18.63–64 (Niese,
4.151–52) und die Erwähnung Jesu im Zusammenhang mit der Hinrichtung des Jakobus in Ant. 20.200 (Niese, 4.310). Vor
allem das Testimonium Flavianum ist umstritten.
29
C.A. Evans, “Assessing Progress in the Third Quest of the Historical Jesus,” JSHJ 4 (2006): 35–54, sp. 48–-49; M.R.
Licona, “Did Jesus Predict his Death and Vindication / Resurrection? JSHJ 8 (2010): 47–66; und M.V. Zolondek, “The
Authenticity of the First Passion Prediction and the Origin of Mark 8.31-33,” JSHJ 8 (2010), 237–53.
der markinische, laut Mark 14:25 während seines letzten Mahles etwa deshalb, daß er nach seinem
Tod Wein im Gottesreich trinken werde, weil er das Gottesreich als Folge seines Todes ansieht,
ähnlich wie in der Assumptio Mosis das Gottesreich auf Taxos Tod folgt?
(4) Überhaupt ist es schon einmal von großer Bedeutung, daß die Assumptio Mosis im
Zusammenhang mit der Heilswende vom Reich Gottes spricht. Sie stellt sich das Reich Gottes als etwas
vor, das endzeitlich manifest wird (also prinzipiell schon vorher existierte; in As. Mos. 10:1 steht tunc
parebit regnum illius) und verbunden ist mit einer Entmachtung des Teufels sowie der Erhöhung eines
himmlischen Repräsentanten Israels, das dementsprechend über seine Feinde erhöht wird. Eine ganz
ähnliche Konstellation liegt, wie ich in meiner Untersuchung zu Rev 12 gezeigt habe, in der Vision der
Johannesoffenbarung vom Sturz des Drachen vor, wo das Inkrafttreten der Königsherrschaft Gottes
assoziiert erscheint mit einem endzeitlichen Teufelsfall (Rev 12:9–10).30
Doch vermutlich ist die in der Assumptio Mosis bezeugte Konzeptualisierung des Gottesreiches
schon relevant für Jesusüberlieferung, die wesentlich älter ist als die Apokalypse des Johannes (die
ja ausweislich ihres Präskripts ebenfalls Jesusüberlieferung ist): Laut Luke 10:18, das freilich nur bei
Lukas bezeugt ist, berichtet Jesus angesichts der exorzistischen Erfolge seiner Jünger, er habe den Satan
wie einen Blitz vom Himmel fallen sehen. Dämonenaustreibungen, die typisch sind für das Wirken
Jesu und seiner Jünger, werden hier also begründet mit einer Entmachtung des Teufels. Dasselbe
ist in der durch Markus und Q doppelt bezeugten und daher wohl überlieferungsgeschichtlich
alten Beelzebulperikope der Fall, wenn Jesus dort seine exorzistischen Erfolge mit der Bindung des
Starken und damit der Entmachtung des Teufels bzw. Beelzebuls begründet (vgl. Mark 3:22–30;
Luke 11:14–23; Matt 12:22–32).
In der Q-Version dieser Perikope identifiziert Jesus seine Dämonenaustreibungen zudem mit dem
Gegenwärtigsein des Gottesreiches (Luke 11:20 par.). Es sieht so aus, als korrelierten zumindest in der
Q-Version der Beelzebul-Perikope und in Luke 10:18 Gottesreich und Teufelsfall ähnlich miteinander
wie in der Assumptio Mosis, wobei das Spezifikum der Evangelienüberlieferungen darin besteht,
daß Dämonenaustreibungen als Konsequenz und damit Indiz für beide Hintergrundtatbestände
angesehen werden. Es wäre zu überprüfen, ob vielleicht Jesus aufgrund erfolgreicher Exorzismen zu
der Überzeugung kam (vielleicht auch auf visionärem Wege),31 daß der Teufel entmachtet und daß
damit auch das Reich Gottes gekommen sei. Mit dem von der Assumptio Mosis bezeugten Bild vom
Königreich Gottes wäre ein solches Szenario durchaus plausibel. Es erscheint in deutscher Tradition
ungewöhnlich, bei Jesus nicht nur eine theologische Idee, sondern auch noch die Entwicklung
oder gar auch Veränderung einer solchen Idee nachzuzeichnen. Das kann sich in der überwiegend
amerikanisch inspirierten „Third Quest“ anders verhalten, wie sich etwa an einem Aufsatz von
Joel Marcus zur Beelzebul-Perikope zeigt.32 Mit einer gewissen Vorsicht wird man sich von dieser
Forschungstendenz inspirieren lassen dürfen.
30
Vgl. J. Dochhorn, Schriftgelehrte Prophetie. Der eschatologische Teufelsfall in Apc Joh 12 und seine Bedeutung für das
Verständnis der Johannesoffenbarung (WUNT 258; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), sp. 260–307 (über den eschatologischen
Teufelsfall).
31
Vgl. hierzu J. Dochhorn, „Die Versuchung Jesu bei Lukas und Matthäus: Eine Geschichte von der Selbstfindung des
Dämonenbezwingers und neuen Salomo,“ in J. Bockmann und J. Gold, Hrsgg., Turpiloquium. Kommunikation mit Teufeln
und Dämonen in Mittelalter und früher Neuzeit (WDBP 41; Würzburg 2017), 233–57.
32
Vgl. J. Marcus, “The Beelzebul Controversy and the Eschatologies of Jesus,” in B. Chilton und C. A. Evans, Hrsgg.,
Authenticating the Activities of Jesus (NTTS 28,3; Leiden: Brill, 1999), 247–77.
(5) Das Sichtbarwerden der Königsherrschaft Gottes führt in der Assumptio Mosis dazu, daß
Israel auf einem Adler in den Himmel steigt und Erbe des Sternenhimmels wird, während seine
Feinde in einer kosmischen Katastrophe untergehen (As. Mos. 10:2b–10); in 10:9 heißt es: Et
altauit te deus et faciet te herere caelo stellarum („Und Gott wird dich erhöhen und dich den
Sternenhimmel erben lassen“). Es sieht so aus, als verorte die Assumptio Mosis die Zukunft Israels
im Himmel und nicht auf der Erde. Eine derartige Sicht, die das künftige Heil im Himmel sieht, ist
für das frühe Christentum möglicherweise gar nicht so untypisch: Wo wird Jesus, der historische
oder der markinische, eigentlich seinen Wein trinken, wenn er in Mark 14:25 das offenbar nach
seinem Tod statthabende Gottesreich mit eben dieser Tätigkeit assoziiert, im Himmel oder auf der
Erde? Der Text sagt es nicht. Und wo ist wohl das Land zu verorten, das den Seligpreisungen bei
Matthäus zufolge die Sanftmütigen erben sollen (Matt 5:5)? In dem wohl antik-jüdischen Testament
Hiobs sagt Hiob, der gerade auf einem Wurmhügel hockt und nicht sehr herrschaftlich wirkt, sein
heiliges Land befinde sich im Himmel, wo er zur Rechten Gottes sitze (T. Job 33); wahrscheinlich ist
hier Auferstehungshoffnung und Wissen um das andere, eigentliche Leben im Himmel miteinander
verbunden.33
Und wo werden die Christen nach der Sicht des Paulus ihren Aufenthalt haben, nachdem sie laut
1 Thess 4:17 mit der Auferstehung der Toten entrückt werden, um Jesus entgegenzugehen? Werden
sie in Richtung Himmel entrückt, um dann mit Jesus zur Erde zurückzukehren? Besonders logisch
erscheint eine solche Szenerie nicht; vielleicht ist doch eher an den Himmel als eine Stätte künftigen
Heils gedacht? In der Ascensio Isaiae, einer christlichen Schrift, die wohl der ersten Hälfte des
zweiten Jahrhunderts angehört, ist das zukünftige Heil jedenfalls im siebten Himmel angesiedelt
(vgl. Ascen. Isa 2:9; 4:16–17; 8:14–15; 9:17–18, 24–26), wohingegen „dieser“ Himmel, „dieses“
Festland, die Berge, Hügel, Bäume und Städte am Ende von Christus verflucht und die Sünder von
den Flammen seines Mundes verbrannt werden (Ascen. Isa 4:18). Es wird zu überprüfen sein, ob
nicht die Apokalypse des Johannes, wenn sie von einem neuen Himmel und einer neuen Erde als
heilvoller Zukunft spricht (Rev 21:1), wenn sie also die Erde in ihre Hoffnung einbezieht, einen eher
untypischen Weg geht. Der Seher Johannes liebt anscheinend die Erde; im Zusammenhang mit dem
Inkrafttreten der Gottesherrschaft spricht er von der Zerstörung derer, welche die Erde zerstören
(11:18), und bei der Rettung des endzeitlichen Gottesvolkes vor der Verfolgung durch den Drachen
hilft die Erde tatkräftig mit (12:16). Nicht alle Christen haben der Erde diese Aufmerksamkeit
gewidmet, und schon die Assumptio Mosis sieht das Heil offenbar im Himmel.
5. BIBLIOGRAPHIE
Atkinson, K. “Taxo’s Martyrdom and the Role of the Nuntius in the Testament of Moses.” JBL 125
(2006): 453–76.
Ceriani, A. M. Monumenta Sacra et Profana ex Codicibus praesertim Bibliothecae Ambrosianae, Tomus I.
Milano, 1861.
33
Das Testament Hiobs nimmt die auf Hiob bezogene Auferstehungsaussage aus Job 42:17a LXX auf (T. Job 4:9),
aber was wir sehen, sind Anzeichen eines Lebens nach dem Tode, vgl. T. Job 52, die stark verschränkt sind mit den
Himmelwelt-Erfahrungen der Töchter Hiobs in T. Job 46–52. Auferstehung scheint primär manifest zu werden als das
individuelle Fortleben der Seele des Frommen und nicht so sehr mit dem Ende der Geschichte assoziiert, und sie hat
etwas mit Zugehörigkeit zur Himmelwelt zu tun. In diesem Sinne ist wohl auch T. Job 33 ein mit Aufersterstehung
assoziierter Text.
Charles, R. H. The Assumption of Moses. London, 1897.

Clemen, C. ed. The Assumptio Mosis. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1904.
Deane, W. J. Pseudepigrapha: An Account of Certain Apocryphal Sacred Writings of the Jews and Early
Christians. Edinburgh, 1891.
Dochhorn, J. Schriftgelehrte Prophetie. Der eschatologische Teufelsfall in Apc Joh 12 und seine Bedeutung für
das Verständnis der Johannesoffenbarung. WUNT 258. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010.
Dochhorn, J. “Zur Krise der Gerechtigkeit im frühen Judentum. Reflexionen über das Entstehungsmilieu des
frühen Christentums.” BN 155 (2012): 77–111.
Dochhorn, J. “Der Tod des Mose in der Assumptio Mosis.” Pages 167–85 in Mosebilder. Gedanken zur Rezeption
einer literarischen Figur im Frühjudentum, frühen Christentum und der römisch-hellenistischen Literatur.
Edited by M. Sommer, E. Eynikel, V. Niederhofer, and E. Hernitscheck. WUNT 390. Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 2017.
Dochhorn, J. “Die Versuchung Jesu bei Lukas und Matthäus: Eine Geschichte von der Selbstfindung des
Dämonenbezwingers und neuen Salomo.” Pages 233–57 in Turpiloquium. Kommunikation mit Teufeln und
Dämonen in Mittelalter und früher Neuzeit. Edited by J. Bockmann and J. Gold. WDBP 41. Würzburg 2017.
Evans, C. A. “Assessing Progress in the Third Quest of the Historical Jesus.” JSHJ 4 (2006): 35–54.
Fritzsche, O. F. ed. Libri Veteris Testamenti apocryphi graece. Leipzig. 1871.
Hansen, G. C. ed. Anonyme Kirchengeschichte (Gelasius Cyzicenus, CPG 6034). GCS, Neue Folge 9.
Berlin, 2002.
Laperrousaz, E.-M. Le Testament du Moïse (généralement appelé ‘Assomption de Moïse’), Traduction avec
introduction et notes. Semitica 19. Paris 1970.
Licona, M. R. “Did Jesus Predict his Death and Vindication / Resurrection? JSHJ 8 (2010): 47–66.
Marcus, J. “The Beelzebul Controversy and the Eschatologies of Jesus.” Pages 247–77 in Authenticating the
Activities of Jesus. Edited by B. D. Chilton and C. A. Evans NTTS 28,3. Leiden: Brill, 1999.
Nickelsburg, G. W. E. “An Antiochan Date for the Testament of Moses.” Pages 33–37 in Studies on the
Testament of Moses. Edited by G. W. E. Nickelsburg. SCS 4. Cambridge, 1973.
Niese, B. ed. Flavii Iosephi Opera. 7 Bände. Berlin, 1887–95; Nachdruck: Berlin, 1955.
Noth, M. Geschichte Israels. Göttingen, 1954.
Oppenheimer, A. The ’Am Ha-Aretz. A Study in the Social History of the Jewish People in the Hellenistic-
Roman Period. ALGHJ 8. Leiden: Brill, 1977.
Schürer, E. Geschichte des jüdischen Volkes im Zeitalter Jesu Christi. 3 Bände. Leipzig 1901–09;
Nachdruck: Hildesheim, 1964.
Tromp, J. The Assumption of Moses. A Critical Edition with Commentary. SVTP 10. Leiden: Brill, 1993.
Zolondek, M. V. “The Authenticity of the First Passion Prediction and the Origin of Mark 8.31–33.” JSHJ 8
(2010), 237–53.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Neither Deuteronomic nor

Priestly: The Psalms of Solomon
as the Original Answer
of Learned Scribes to the
Wickedness of High Priests
PATRICK POUCHELLE
The contribution of James H. Charlesworth to the research on early Judaism is invaluable. The
explosion of the studies on the genre of penitential prayers in 1998–9 would have probably been
impossible without his work.1 No less than four monographs were published in these years,2 to
which Richard Bautch’s book was added a few years later.3 The explosion of interest in a genre that
had been largely neglected apart from German scholarship4 led to the publication of three volumes
of collected essays.5
I am indebted to Brad Embry for meaningful suggestions at an early stage of this chapter. I also thank the editors of this
volume for their editorial work that improved my essay. All remaining errors are mine alone.
1
Beyond his Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, see also James H. Charlesworth, “Jewish Hymns, Odes and Prayers (ca 167
B.C.E.–135 C.E.),” in Early Judaism and Its Modern Interpreters, ed. Robert A. Kraft and George W. E. Nickelsburg (Atlanta,
2
Rodney A. Werline, Penitential Prayer in Second Temple Judaism: The Development of a Religious Institution, EJL 13
(Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1998); Mark J. Boda, Praying the Tradition: The Origin and Use of Tradition in Nehemiah 9,
BZAW 277 (Berlin: Gruyter, 1999); Judith Newman, Praying by the Book: The Scripturalization of Prayer in Second Temple
Judaism, EJL 14 (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1999); and Daniel K. Falk, Daily, Sabbath and Festival Prayers in the Dead
Sea Scrolls, STDJ 27 (Leiden: Brill, 1998).
3
Richard J. Bautch, Developments in Genre between Post-Exilic Penitential Prayers and the Psalms of Communal Lament,
SBLAcBib 7 (Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2003).
4
See Otto H. Steck, Israel und das gewaltsame Geschick der Propheten. Untersuchungen zur Überlieferung des deutero-
nomistischen Geschichtsbildes im Alten Testament, Spätjudentum und Urchristentum, WMANT 23 (Neukirchen:
Neukirchener Verlag, 1967), and the fifth edition of the book of Claus Westermann, Das Loben Gottes in den Psalmen,
published in 1977 and translated in English a few years later: Claus Westermann, Praise and Lament in the Psalm, trans. K.
R. Crim and R. N. Soulen (Atlanta, GA: John Knox, 1981).
5
Mark J. Boda, Daniel K. Falk, and Rodney A. Werline, eds., Seeking the Favor of God, EJL 21–3 (Atlanta, GA: SBL,
2006–8).
Among these recent works, the Psalms of Solomon (Pss. Sol.) as penitential prayers has been
mainly studied by Rodney Werline.6 Werline asserts that the Pss. Sol. belong to the literary genre of
penitential prayers that are composed as a response to a situation of crisis, in this case the decline of
the Hasmonean kingdom on the occasion of the coming of the Roman general Pompey. According
to Werline, penitential prayers, and the Pss. Sol. in particular, are rooted in Deuteronomic ideology.7
Of course, Werline acknowledges that the Pss. Sol. do not convey a simple Deuteronomic ideology;
one of their aims is to explain why the righteous suffer while they should have been blessed. The
response lays on the concept of divine discipline: the suffering is pedagogical. A second concern is
why a foreign leader has caused such troubles in Jerusalem. The answer here is that, in his pride,
the foreign leader punished Israel beyond what God allowed and therefore also will be punished.
Werline returned to these matters in a later article.8 He noticed that even if Pss. Sol. 1 is a “slight
twist” on the Deuteronomic ideology,9 its terminology and theology are close to Deuteronomy.10
Pss. Sol. 2 finishes with the confession of God’s righteousness.11 Pss. Sol. 8 depicts the fall of
Jerusalem resulting from the sins of her leaders, and Pss. Sol. 17 conveys similar views, “typically
in Deuteronomic thought,”12 describing how the reign of the Hasmoneans is due to the sin of
the people, also alluding to the Davidic covenant in 2 Sam 7. Hence, for Werline, the use of
“Deuteronomistic theology” means the “articulation of History and God’s role in it” in which
the responsibility of people is what is given the priority.13 If the people are suffering, this is not
on account of a heavenly conflict between suprahuman entities but a result of everyone’s sin.14
6
Werline, Penitential Prayer, 185–8. But see also Daniel K. Falk, “Psalms and Prayers,” in The Complexities of Second
Temple Judaism, vol. 1 of Justification and Variegated Nomism, ed. D. A. Carson, P. T. O’Brien and M. A. Seifrid, WUNT
2/140 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001), 35–52; and William Morrow, “The Affirmation of Divine Righteousness in Early
Penitential Prayers: A Sign of Judaism’s Entry into the Axial Age,” in The Origins of Penitential Prayer in Second Temple
Judaism, vol. 1 of Seeking the Favor of God, ed. Mark J. Boda, Daniel K. Falk, and Rodney A. Werline, EJL 21 (Atlanta,
GA: SBL, 2006), 101–17.
7
See also the contribution of his supervisor, George W. E. Nickelsburg, Jewish Literature between the Bible and the Mishnah: A
Historical and Literary Introduction (Philadelphia, PA: Augsburg Fortress, 1981), 204–7. He asserts this view again, writing
that “Psalms 1–2, 8 and 17 employ the Deuteronomic scheme to argue that these events are divine punishment”; see
George W. E. Nickelsburg, “Judgment, Life-After-Death, and Resurrection in the Apocrypha and the non-Apocalyptic
Pseudepigrapha,” in Death, Life-After-Death, Resurrection & the World-to-Come in the Judaisms of Antiquity, vol. 4 of
Judaism in Late Antiquity, ed. A. J. Avery-Peck and J. Neusner, HdO (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 156.
8
See Rodney A. Werline, “The Psalm of Solomon and the Ideology of Rule,” in Conflicted Boundaries in Wisdom and
Apocalypticism, ed. B. G. Wright and L. M. Wills (Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2005), 69–87.
9
Ibid., 72. Indeed, Jerusalem thought that she was “prosperous” (Pss. Sol. 1:1–3) but this belief is only an illusion, because
the sinners sinned in secret so that Jerusalem was not able to understand (1:4–8). Yet the syntagma expressing the prosperity
of Jerusalem are not to be found in Deuteronomy. Hence, “to be full of righteousness” (Pss. Sol. 1:2–3) could be found in
Isa 33:5; for “to be prosperous” (εὐθηνέω) see Zech 7:7; for “to be full of children” see 1 Kgs [= MT 1 Sam] 2:5. Pss. Sol.
1 may have a “Deuteronomical” flavor but could not be found literally in Deuteronomy.
10
The author notes the frequency of “to listen” but nuances by stating that “this interpretation is quite probable, if, as most
scholars think, the Psalms of Solomon has a Hebrew Vorlage” (p. 72). In fact, this is also true even if there is no Hebrew
Vorlage, as they may have used the Terminology of the Septuagint of the Deuteronomy. However, it seems to me that “to
listen” is not so present, see below.
11
See notably Werline, Penitential Prayer, 52.
12
Werline, “The Psalm of Solomon and the Ideology of Rule,” 74.
13
As summarized by G. Anthony Keddie, Revelations of Ideology: Apocalyptic Class Politics in Early Roman Palestine,
JSJSupp 189 (Leiden: Brill, 2018), 96.
14
Werline, “The Psalm of Solomon and the Ideology of Rule,” 84–5.
Neither Deuteronomic nor Priestly 365
Conversely, benedictions are due to the righteousness. Therefore “Deuteronomic ideology” is

conceived as opposed to “apocalyptic ideology.”
Werline’s assertion that Penitential prayers in general, and Pss. Sol. in particular, develop or
deploy Deuteronomic traditions has gone largely unquestioned.15 The only challenge has been
raised by Mark J. Boda.16 Werline regards the priestly influence on the Deuteronomic frame as
minimal,17 whereas Boda sees in Neh 9:5–37 a clear influence of priestly traditions.18 But even here
the Pss. Sol. play no role in their debate.
Two small points, however, suggest grounds for questioning Werline’s claim for the Deuteronomic
character of the Pss. Sol. First, William Morrow19 links the Psalms of Solomon to the penitential
prayers in matters of divine sovereignty, mercy and justice, influences of Deuteronomic theology,
and confession and contrition. According to Morrow, the emergence of penitential prayers marks
an evolution, related to Jaspers’s concept of Axial age, to a transcendent God whose righteousness is
beyond doubt. Morrow points out the importance of “historical retrospectives” and “confessions”
of sin, but does not cite examples from the Pss. Sol. in this regard. However, the Psalms surface
in Morrow’s treatment when he argues about the link between penitential prayers and holiness
theology, notably with the issue of uncleanness and pollution. Morrow then addresses the debate
between Werline and Boda. The lack of reference to the Pss. Sol. when Morrow speaks of the
influence of Deuteronomic theology contrasts with his reference to them when he discusses the
subject of holiness.
Second, in his impressive survey of the Psalms of Solomon,20 Falk clearly sees in Pss. Sol. 9
a classical prayer of penitence with confession of sin, the acknowledgment of God’s justice,
recollection of God’s mercies, and petition for mercy.21 Yet, he notices some specificities: the saving
activity of God is nearly absent,22 the forgiving is present once only,23 the absence of sacrifice is
curious regarding the interest of the psalmist on the temple,24 both Lev 26:40–45 and Deut 30:1–5
seem to be at stake in the Pss. Sol.25 Covenant is rarely mentioned but its theology is covenantal.26
15
For instance, C. Marvin Pate, The Reverse of the Curse: Paul, Wisdom, and the Law, WUNT 2/114 (Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 2000), 38–9, agrees with Nickelsburg that the Psalms of Solomon convey several motives with a “deuteronomic
ring to them.” He noticed, as Werline, that Pss. Sol. 1:1–3 expresses Deuteronomic blessing but fails to note the irony. The
Davidic dynasty is evoked with the Deuteronomic blessing of 2 Sam 7. The Deuteronomic curses are due to the fact that the
people sinned and that God raised tyrants to judge Israel and send them into exile (see also James M. Scott, “Paul’s Use of
Deuteronomic Tradition,” JBL 112 (1993), 645–65). The notion of repentance/restoration is also linked with Deuteronomic
blessing.
16
See Mark J. Boda, “Confession as Theological Expression: Ideological Origins of Penitential Prayer,” in The Origins of
Penitential Prayer in Second Temple Judaism, vol. 1 of Seeking the Favor of God, ed. Mark J. Boda, Daniel K. Falk, and
Rodney A. Werline, EJL 21 (Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2006), 21–50, especially 22–4.
17
Werline, Penitential Prayer, 193–4.
18
Boda, Praying the Traditions, 186–7.
19
Morrow, “The Affirmation of Divine Righteousness.”
20
Falk, “Psalms and Prayers,” 35–51.
21
Without explicitly referring to the Deuteronomic scheme (ibid., 42).
22
Ibid., 39.
23
Ibid., 49, in Ps 9:7 but see below.
24
Ibid., 49, although he thinks that this is due to the literary genre.
25
Ibid., 50.
26
Ibid.
The same could be noticed for the law.27 These tiny details are in line with the assertation of
Sprinkle to see in Pss. Sol. 9:4–5, 14:2–3, and 15:1–4 an influence from Lev 18:5.28
Hence, the Deuteronomic scheme may not be the best or only model for analyzing the Pss.
Sol. An alternative is the influence of priestly tradition. Jonathan Klawans, for example, uses the
Pss. Sol. as examples of expression of moral impurities that defile the Temple.29 Bradley Embry,
in turn, analyzes the presentation of sins and purity in the Pss. Sol. and compares it to the system
as presented in Leviticus.30 He reasserts the difference between ritual and moral impurity: ritual
impurity is “passive” in that a person is impure, while moral impurity is “active” in that one’s
conduct renders the Temple or the Land impure, which leads to the notion that all the people are
guilty if moral impurity is not redressed.31 Embry suggests that the two systems remain operative
in the LXX and asserts that if the system of purification and atonement be considered inoperative,
another solution becomes messianism.32 In the Pss. Sol., where the Temple remains of paramount
importance, sins are related to the impurity of the Temple, whereas the Messiah offers an ideal
state where Jerusalem and the people are holy.33 In the same vein, Kenneth Atkinson offers an
analysis of the portrayal of priests in the Pss. Sol.34 In his view, the community that wrote the Pss.
Sol. condemned the priests because their conduct led to the profanation of the Temple. Atkinson
suggests that the “harsh and vicious” polemic against the priests shows that “at least some of the
authors of the Psalms of Solomon were once connected with the Temple, and likely priests, and
members of the upper class.”35
The goal of my chapter is to extend the work of Embry and Atkinson. In my opinion, as penitential
prayers, the Pss. Sol. have more to do with the priestly traditions than previously asserted. Yet, even
the priestly traditions are not so important to the Pss. Sol. because the desecration of the Temple,
which was perceived as a catastrophe, led them to another solution for atonement.
The first part of my chapter demonstrates that even if Pss. Sol. were influenced by Deuteronomy,
they lack the notion of repentance and that of petition for forgiveness; the author does not feel
guilty as an “active” sinner. The second part examines the influence of priestly traditions in the Pss.
Sol., confirming the importance of the Temple and its purity system. However, even if the general
frame is priestly, the sacrifices are absent. In the third part, I argue that the aim of the Pss. Sol. is
to suggest an answer to a legal case that is not taken into account in the Pentateuch, which is the
fact that the high priest could not perform the legitimate sacrifices requested notably in Leviticus
27
Ibid., 51.
28
Preston M. Sprinkle, Law and Life: The Interpretation of Leviticus 18:5 in Early Judaism and in Paul, WUNT 2/241
(Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 91–9.
29
Jonathan Klawans, Impurity and Sin in Ancient Judaism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 59, 185–6.
30
Bradley J. Embry, “Prayers in Psalms of Solomon or the Temple, Covenantal Fidelity, and Hope,” in Studies in Jewish
Prayer, ed. R. Hayward and B. Embry, JSSSupp 17 (Oxford: University Press, 2005), 81–99; Bradley J. Embry “Psalms
of Assurance: An Analysis of the Formation and Function of Psalms of Solomon in Second Temple Judaism” (PhD diss.,
Durham University, 2005), especially 152–206, as the first part of his thesis aims at showing the presence of a prophetic
paradigm (the “Deuteronomic” term is avoided by Embry) in the Pss. Sol. close to that conveyed by Deuteronomy 32.
31
Embry, “Psalms of Assurance,” 152–70.
32
Ibid., 181–2.
33
Ibid., 182–206.
34
Kenneth Atkinson, “Perceptions of the Temple Priests in the Psalms of Solomon,” in The Psalms of Solomon: Language,
History, Theology, ed. E. Bons and P. Pouchelle, EJL 40 (Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2015), 79–96.
35
Ibid., 84.
4 and 16. As we shall see, the dissociation of forgiveness and sacrifice may be rooted in tradition
of prayers, like 3 Kgs [= MT 1 Kings] 8 or Psalm 50[51] which may have been a model for the
Solomonic psalmist as a response to the inability of the high priests to perform in this regard.36
Some preliminary methodological remarks are in order. First, Jan Joosten’s article on the original
language of the Pss. Sol. has challenged the long-standing consensus of a Hebrew original.37 His
thesis has been followed by Felix Albrecht,38 but remains debated, notably by Atkinson.39 I will deal
with the Pss. Sol. as if they were composed in Greek, acknowledging that should they be proven
to be a translation, our conclusion will remain valid for the Greek text but may point toward the
translator rather than the author. Second, I assume that all the Psalms belong to the same tradition
and make no attempt to detect an evolution in their theology.40 Finally, this survey does not claim to
be exhaustive. My main goal is to open new approaches on the Pss. Sol. and convince more scholars
to take this corpus into account during their research on early Jewish history and literature.
1. NEITHER FULLY DEUTERONOMIC …

When Werline analyzes the “Deuteronomic critique of rule in the Psalm of Solomon,”41 he regularly
speaks about the “sin-punishment ideology.”42 But is such a theology really Deuteronomic? Indeed,
Leviticus 26 also offers similar ideas. People are castigated (Heb ‫יסר‬, Gr. παιδεύω) according to
their sins.43 Although he does not deal with the Pss. Sol., David Lincicum raises the question of
the definition of what could be a “Deuteronomic pattern,”44 but simply recalls the position of
Nickelsburg. For him, such a pattern is derived from Deuteronomy 28–32: (1) the gift of the law to
Israel, joined with the announcement of benedictions and maledictions; (2) Israel sins; (3) the curses
are put by God on Israel; (4) Israel repents; (5) God restores Israel. Formally, when we compare
Deuteronomy 28–30 to Leviticus 26, the main difference rests on the fact that in Deuteronomy,
people repent, while in Leviticus, people confess their sins.45 Compare Deut 30:1–3:
When all these things have happened to you, the blessings and the curses that I have set before
you, if you call them to mind among all the nations where the Lord your God has driven you, 2
and return (‫ ׁשוב‬qal) to the Lord your God, and you and your children obey (‫ ׁשמע‬qal) him with
36
I introduce this term for denoting the author of the Psalms of Solomon, without assuming that this author was unique.
37
Jan Joosten, “Reflections on the Original Language of the Psalms of Solomon,” in The Psalms of Solomon: Language,
History, Theology, ed. E. Bons and P. Pouchelle, EJL 40 (Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2015), 31–47, see also Eberhard Bons,
“Philosophical Vocabulary in the Psalms of Solomon: The Case of Ps. Sol. 9:4,” in The Psalms of Solomon: Language,
History, Theology, ed. E. Bons, and P. Pouchelle, EJL 40 (Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2015), 49–58.
38
Felix Albrecht, Psalmi Salomonis, Septuaginta vetus testamentum graecum XII,3 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht,
2018), 181–2.
39
Kenneth Atkinson, “Responses,” in The Psalms of Solomon: Language, History, Theology, ed. E. Bons and P. Pouchelle,
EJL 40 (Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2015), 177–9.
40
For a discussion of the question of dealing with the Psalms of Solomon as if they were one voice, see Falk, “Psalms and
Prayers,” 37–9.
41
42
Ibid., 72–4.
43
Lev 46:18, 23, 28.
44
David Lincicum, Paul and the Early Jewish Encounter with Deuteronomy, WUNT 2/284 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck,
2010), 86–7.
45
See Boda, “Confession,” 23.
all your heart and with all your soul, just as I am commanding you today, 3 then the Lord your
God will restore (‫ ׁשוב‬qal) your fortunes and have compassion on you, gathering you again from
all the peoples among whom the Lord your God has scattered you (NRSV).
with Lev 26:40–42:
40
But if they confess (‫ ידה‬hit.) their iniquity and the iniquity of their ancestors, in that they
committed treachery against me and, moreover, that they continued hostile to me—41 so that I,
in turn, continued hostile to them and brought them into the land of their enemies; if then their
uncircumcised heart is humbled (‫ כנע‬nif.) and they make amends (‫ רצה‬qal.) for their iniquity, 42
then will I remember (‫ זכר‬qal) my covenant with Jacob; I will remember also my covenant with
Isaac and also my covenant with Abraham, and I will remember the land. (NRSV)
Both texts accept the “sin-punishment ideology,” but each describes the “restoration” differently.
In the Deuteronomic scheme, a double movement is expressed by the same Hebrew verb ‫ׁשוב‬,
the repentance involving a movement of the people to God and a restoration involving an
implicit movement from God to the people. In the Leviticus passage, the people undertake three
actions: confession,46 humbling, and making amends.47 This is followed by God’s remembering.
The fact that confession presupposes repentance is not mentioned by Leviticus.48
Similarly, the Deuteronomic repentance may be done through confession, but this is not written
as such in Deuteronomy. Deut 4:29–31 is another text that puts the emphasis on the repentance:
29
From there you will seek (‫ בקׁש‬pi.) the Lord your God, and you will find (‫ מצא‬qal) him if you
search after (‫ דרׁש‬qal) him with all your heart and soul. 30 In your distress, when all these things
have happened to you in time to come, you will return (‫ ׁשוב‬qal) to the Lord your God and heed
(‫ ׁשמע‬qal) him. 31 Because the Lord your God is a merciful God, he will neither abandon you nor
destroy you; he will not forget the covenant with your ancestors that he swore to them.
As in Leviticus 26, Deuteronomy 30 deals with the situation of the Exile. The two Deuteronomic
texts request from the people to return to God (‫ׁשוב‬, ἐπιστρέφω) and obey or heed him (‫ ׁשמע‬qal,
ὑπακούω or εἰσακούω). Deuteronomy 4 introduces the nuance of seeking the Lord (‫ בקׁש‬pi. and ‫דרׁש‬
qal) and finding him (‫ מצא‬qal, εὑρίσκω).
This is part of Werline’s thesis, who considers 1 Kings 8 as the link between Deuteronomy and
the Penitential prayers, since it introduces the prayer in the Temple as the expression of repentance.
In 1 Kings 8,49 Solomon utters a prayer at the occasion of the dedication of the Temple he has built.
The prayer begins in v. 22 and ends in v. 53. After a petition for God to attend to their prayers, it
46
The impact of confession on penitential prayers is conceded by Werline, Penitential Prayer, 48–50.
47
That is, “to make amend,” literally, “to pay,” or “to be pleased,” a meaning conveyed by the LXX with the verb εὐδοκέω
“to accept.”
48
I acknowledge that confession may implicitly require repentance and some scholars associated the two words “repentance”
and “confession” as if one necessarily derives from the other, see the interpretation of Milgrom made by Samuel E. Balentine
“ ‘I Was Ready to Be Sought Out by Those Who Did Not Ask,’ ” in The Origins of Penitential Prayer in Second Temple
Judaism, vol. 1 of Seeking the Favor of God, ed. Mark J. Boda, Daniel K. Falk, and Rodney A. Werline, EJL 21 (Atlanta,
GA: SBL, 2006), 1–20 at 18: “In Milgrom’s view, the priests postulated, for the first time in history, that repentance is both
desired and required by God for the mitigation of divine retribution. In support of this argument, he notes that four priestly
texts (Lev 5:5; 16:21; 26:40; Num 5:7), explicitly require confession.” But I would like to note that I never found a biblical
text explicitly joining these two notions lexicographically. I would be happy to be contradicted.
49
And its parallel in 2 Chronicles 6.
surprisingly contains some regulations about atonement—a person who has sinned against another
has to utter a vow in front of the altar, God will decide who is guilty and who is innocent (31–32).
This is followed by regulations concerning the people: after a defeat (33–34), when rains are lacking
(35–36), during various plagues (including besiegement, 37–43), during a military campaign (44–
45), at the occasion of the Exile (46–53). This last regulation uses the Deuteronomic scheme but
adds to the conversion the act of pleading:
Yet if they come to their senses in the land to which they have been taken captive, and repent (‫ׁשוב‬
hip.), and plead (‫ חנן‬hit.) with you in the land of their captors, saying, “We have sinned, and have
done wrong; we have acted wickedly”; If they repent (‫ ׁשוב‬qal) with all their heart and soul in
the land of their enemies, who took them captive, and pray to you toward their land, which you
gave to their ancestors, the city that you have chosen, and the house that I have built for your
name; then hear in heaven your dwelling place their prayer and their plea, maintain their cause
and forgive your people who have sinned against you, and all their transgressions that they have
committed against you; and grant them compassion in the sight of their captors, so that they may
have compassion on them (for they are your people and heritage.
Applying this Deuteronomic pattern with Pss. Sol. is not as simple as it might at first appear. We
could observe that Pss. Sol. 1 ends just before the punishment, and Pss. Sol. 2 immediate thereafter.
There is no mention of repentance and restoration. Of course, Pss. Sol. 8 hopes for a restoration
expressed in Deuteronomic way, to be compared to Deut 30:3:50
ἐπίστρεψον, ὁ θεός, τὸ ἔλεός σου ἐφʼ ἡμᾶς καὶ οἰκτίρησον ἡμᾶς
συνάγαγε τὴν διασπορὰν Ισραηλ μετὰ ἐλέους καὶ χρηστότητος,
Bring back, God, your mercy upon us and have us in pity!
Gather the diaspora of Israel with mercy and goodness
But again, there is no repentance. The same is true for Pss. Sol. 17, where the salvation is attributed
to the messianic era with a certain emphasis on holiness.51
Generally speaking, then, the Pss. Sol. lacks the theme of repentance. Hence, ἐπιστρέφω is used
twice in Pss. Sol. 5:7, 8:27 with God as subject. The cognate substantive ἐπιστροφή is used in the
title of Pss. Sol. 7, with no clear context allowing us to assess whether it is conversion or restoration,
and in Pss. Sol. 9:10 and 16:11. At a first sight, Pss. Sol. 9:10 seems clearly Deuteronomic:
ἐν διαθήκῃ διέθου τοῖς πατράσιν ἡμῶν περὶ ἡμῶν,
καὶ ἡμεῖς ἐλπιοῦμεν ἐπὶ σὲ ἐν ἐπιστροφῇ ψυχῆς ἡμῶν
you made a covenant with our fathers concerning us,
and we shall hope in you for the restoration of our life.52
50
καὶ ἰάσεται (‫ׁשוב‬, ἐπιστρέφω in Aquila or Theodotion) κύριος τὰς ἁμαρτίας σου καὶ ἐλεήσει σε καὶ πάλιν συνάξει σε ἐκ πάντων
τῶν ἐθνῶν, εἰς οὓς διεσκόρπισέν σε κύριος ἐκεῖ.
51
For a survey of the issue of the messianism as expressed by the Pss. Sol., see Joseph Trafton, “What Would David Do?,” in The
Psalms of Solomon: Language, History, Theology, ed. E. Bons and P. Pouchelle, EJL 40 (Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2015), 155–74; and
Patrick Pouchelle, “Les Psaumes de Salomon: Le point sur les questions posées par un ‘messie’ trop étudié,” in Encyclopédie
des messianismes juifs dans l’Antiquité, ed. D. Hamidović, X. Levieils and C. Mézange (Leuven: Peeters, 2018), 153–203.
52
Translation is mine.
Pss. Sol. 9:6 explains that a covenant concluded with the father applies to the sons (i.e., the descendants)
as though inspired directly by Deut 29:23.53 The second hemistich marks the hope the psalmist places
in God (collocation with ἐπί, a typically psalmic expression; see for instance Pss 5:12; 9:11). The double
collocation with ἐπὶ and ἐν is unusual but it is possible that it denotes a complement of cause: “we hope
in you owing to (or during) the restoration of our life.”54 Indeed, the collocation ἐπιστροφή ψυχῆς is a
hapax of the Septuagint, but the collocation ἐπιστρέφω ψυχήν always means “to restore the life.”55 In
Pss. Sol. 16:11, moreover, I would argue that it is not so clear that ἐπιστροφή means “conversion” here:
γογγυσμὸν καὶ ὀλιγοψυχίαν ἐν θλίψει μάκρυνον ἀπʼ ἐμοῦ, ἐὰν ἁμαρτήσω ἐν τῷ σε παιδεύειν εἰς ἐπιστροφήν
Grumbling and faint-heartedness in affliction keep far from me, when, if I sin, you discipline me
for a return.
The issue is whether ἐπιστροφή should be attributed to “me”—which would imply a conversion56—
or to God—which would imply a restoration or a return.57 This verse may refer in an opposite way
to the situation described by Jeremiah58 where the people did not want to accept the discipline and
convert. Pss. Sol. 16:11, rather, builds a typology between the situation of the Solomonic psalmist and
the people in wilderness. Indeed, the grumbling (γογγυσμός) is what the people experienced in the
wilderness,59 the discouragement (ὀλιγοψυχία) what they felt in Egypt (Exod 6:9), but this could also
refer to the episode of the Bronze Serpent (Num 21:4) where the usual discouragement of the people
is expressed by the verb ὀλιγοψυχέω.
Yet, according to MT Deut 8:5, the people have been disciplined in the wilderness in preparation
to enter the promised land.60 The Solomonic psalmists do not want to reproduce the errors of their
fathers. Should the typology work, the return from Exile61 could also be understood as the result
53
Ὅτι κατελίποσαν τὴν διαθήκην κυρίου τοῦ θεοῦ τῶν πατέρων αὐτῶν, ἃ διέθετο τοῖς πατράσιν αὐτῶν “Because they abandoned
the covenant of the Lord, the God of their fathers, which he made with their fathers (NETS).”
54
I acknowledge that my translation is against virtually all the main modern translations. See NETS (Atkinson): “in you
when we return our souls toward you.” See also Kenneth Atkinson, I Cried to the Lord: A Study of the Psalms of Solomon’s
Historical Background and Social Setting, JSJSupp 84 (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 190; and Kenneth Atkinson, An Intertextual
Study of the Psalms of Solomon, Studies in the Bible and Early Christianity 49 (Lewiston: Edwin Mellen, 2001), 206. Similarly
Robert B. Wright, The Psalms of Solomon: A Critical Edition of the Greek Text, Jewish and Christian Texts in Contexts and
Related Studies 1 (London: T&T Clark, 2007), 133, and his former translation (OTP 2:661); Mikael Winninge, Sinners and
the Righteous: A Comparative Study of the Psalms of Solomon and Paul’s Letters, CBNT 26 (Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell,
1995), 70; and Herbert E. Ryle and Montague R. James, Psalms of the Pharisees (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1891), 95. See also “in der Bekehrung unserer Seele” in Svend Holm-Nielsen, Die Psalmen Salomos, Jüdische Schriften
aus hellenistisch-römischer Zeit 4/2 (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlaghaus, 1977), 84; “et nous nous convertirons” in Pierre
Prigent, “Psaumes de Salomon,” La Bible: Ecrits intertestamentaires, La bibliothèque de la Pléiade (Paris: Gallimard,
1987), 974.
55
3 Kgs [= MT 1 Kings] 17:21; Pss 18[19]:8; 22[23]:2, Ruth 4:15, and 1 Macc 9:9. See also Ps 6:4. Of course, in NT, this
substantive always means something related to conversion (according to BDAG), but in the LXX it could convey the whole
semantic field of ἐπιστρέφω. See, e.g., Ezek 47:7, 11. See also Jer 51[44]:14 for the association of ἐλπίζω and ἐπιστρέφω.
56
So Holm-Nielsen, Die Psalmen Salomos, 96.
57
Viz., “to return me” (NETS); see also Wright, The Psalms of Solomon, 173. “Pour me ramener (à toi),” so Prigent, “Psaumes
de Salomon,” 983.
58
E.g., Jer 5:3 καὶ οὐκ ἠθέλησαν δέξασθαι παιδείαν· ἐστερέωσαν τὰ πρόσωπα αὐτῶν ὑπὲρ πέτραν καὶ οὐκ ἠθέλησαν ἐπιστραφῆναι.
59
See Exod 16:9–12 and Num 17:20 and 25.
60
“Know then in your heart that as a parent disciplines a child so the LORD your God disciplines you” (NRSV). On that
matter, see also Patrick Pouchelle, “Prayers for Being Disciplined: Notes on παιδεύω and παιδεία in the Psalms of Solomon,”
in The Psalms of Solomon: Language, History, Theology, ed. E. Bons and P. Pouchelle, EJL 40 (Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2015), 128.
61
See also Tob 14:4 for denoting the return to the land with the verb ἐπιστρέφω.
of the divine discipline, in agreement with the argument of the divine discipline in Lev 26:18, 23,
and 28. In this case, Pss. Sol. 16:11 may resonate with Sir 18:13:62
ἔλεος ἀνθρώπου ἐπὶ τὸν πλησίον αὐτοῦ,
ἔλεος δὲ κυρίου ἐπὶ πᾶσαν σάρκα·
ἐλέγχων καὶ παιδεύων καὶ διδάσκων
καὶ ἐπιστρέφων ὡς ποιμὴν τὸ ποίμνιον αὐτοῦ.
τοὺς ἐκδεχομένους παιδείαν ἐλεᾷ
καὶ τοὺς κατασπεύδοντας ἐπὶ τὰ κρίματα αὐτοῦ.
The compassion of human beings is for their neighbors,
but the compassion of the Lord is for every living thing.
He rebukes and trains and teaches them,
and turns them back, as a shepherd his flock.
He has compassion on those who accept his discipline
and who are eager for his precepts.
Therefore, in my view, there are very few if any iterations of conversion in the Pss. Sol. expressed by
the family of ἐπιστρέφω. Moreover, μετανοέω and its derivatives are completely absent. The unique
μεταμέλεια63 may well refer to the more frequent μεταμελέομαι/μεταμέλομαι. This verb denotes the
regret or repentance of God but is attributed to the righteous once in Prov 5:11, where such
a person regrets not having paid attention to the discipline. Hence, it is debatable whether its
appearance in Pss. Sol. 9:7 belongs to the semantic field of repentance or of that of regret linked
with shame.64
Associated with repentance and expressed by the same wordings as in Deut 30:1–3, is the
petition for forgiveness as uttered in 1 Kings 8, joined to prayer and confession. In the prayer of
Solomon, the atonement is not given through a sacrifice and is conditioned by its setting in the
Temple. According to Embry,65 the use of the verb δέομαι in the Pss. Sol. shows that some of these
texts were also considered as prayers for the Temple. But a significant difference could be found
with prayers like 1 Kings 8; there is no petition for forgiveness in Pss. Sol. In fact, the two Greek
terms for prayer, δέησις and προσευχή, are found in the Pss. Sol. in contexts relatively close to the
prayer of Solomon, but Pss. Sol. affirm that God is actually listening the prayer: τὰ ὦτά σου ἐπακούει
εἰς δέησιν πτωχοῦ ἐν ἐλπίδι (Ps 18:2).66 In Pss. Sol. 18, the Solomonic psalmist seems confident on
the results of the prayer (see also Pss. Sol. 6:5) when the author of 1 Kings 8 wrote a petition (1 Kgs
8:29, 44, 52). The same certitude is expressed by Pss. Sol. 5:5:
62
In Pouchelle, “Prayers for Being Disciplined,” 125–6, I underscored the connection made by Winninge between Sir 23:2–3
and Pss. Sol. 13. This is another case of shared ideas between Sirach and Pss. Sol., which tends to confirm that the divine
discipline is exerted so as to bring the righteous back to God.
63
Pss. Sol. 9:7. For the unique use of this substantive in the other text of the LXX (Hos 11:8), see Eberhard Bons, Les douze
prophètes: Osée, La Bible d’Alexandrie 23/1 (Paris: Cerf, 2002), 145–6.
64
Expressed with αἰσχύνη in Pss. Sol. 9:6.
65
For a study of the verb in the Pss. Sol., see Embry, “Prayer in Psalms of Solomon,” 92–5.
66
“Your ears listen to the prayer of the poor (who is) in hope.”
καὶ σὺ οὐκ ἀποστρέψῃ τὴν δέησιν ἡμῶν,67 ὅτι σὺ ὁ θεὸς ἡμῶν εἶ

And you will not reject our prayer because you are our God.
Pss. Sol. 2:22–25 is an example of such divine efficiency. The Solomonic psalmist wished that the
Dragon (Pompey?) would be punished by God, and God hears his prayer! This is marvelously
expressed by the repetition of the verb χρονίζω.68 Therefore, the prayer is uttered with the clear
certitude that God has heard the petitioner. It is striking how the imperative (and the subjunctive
in a negative way) is not really used in the Pss. Sol. for denoting a petition to God. As seen before,
Pss. Sol. 2:22–25 are false examples as the psalm continues by explaining the efficacy of the
prayer. The examples of petitions are hope for salvation,69 for the pity of God,70 for softening the
discipline.71 Pss. Sol. 16, the most petitionary text of the collection, requests God to remain close
to the psalmists (Pss. Sol. 16:6), to not leave them to the sins (Pss. Sol. 16:7–8, 11), and to guide or
strengthen them (Pss. Sol. 16:10 and 12). There is no trace of petition for atonement, only the fear
of being abandoned by God.
While it is not possible to prove that the repentance is completely absent from the corpus, it
remains that it is not a central concept. Even if the equivocal expression in Pss. Sol. 16:10 could be
interpreted as denoting “repentance,” this notion is not of crucial importance for the Solomonic
Psalmist. Moreover, the two specific verbs found in Deut 4, “to seek” and “to find,” are absent from
the Pss Sol.72 Even ἀκούω, so frequently encountered in the Deuteronomic ideology, seems to be
used in the Pss. Sol. in ways other than in Deuteronomy: (i) to hear the noise of wars;73 (ii) for God
to hear the prayer of the people;74 and only once (iii) to hear or obey God.75 The disobedience of
the people regarding the words of the Lord is only expressed once in Pss. Sol. 2:8, and God or the
voice of God is only implicit:
ὅτι πονηρὰ ἐποίησαν εἰς ἅπαξ τοῦ μὴ ἀκούειν
Because they made evil things at once for not listening
Other usual Deuteronomic vocabulary is absent or used in uncommon ways. For instance, φυλάσσω
(‫ )ׁשמר‬in the Pss. Sol. always has God as subject76 and never denotes the obedience of the people
regarding the law.
67
The collocation ἀποστρέφω τὴν δέησιν is unique to the Septuagint, but could refer to Ps 21[21]:24: ὅτι οὐκ ἐξουδένωσεν
οὐδὲ προσώχθισεν τῇ δεήσει τοῦ πτωχοῦ οὐδὲ ἀπέστρεψεν τὸ πρόσωπον αὐτοῦ ἀπʼ ἐμοῦ καὶ ἐν τῷ κεκραγέναι με πρὸς αὐτὸν
εἰσήκουσέν μου.
68
μὴ χρονίσῃς, ὁ θεός, τοῦ ἀποδοῦναι αὐτοῖς εἰς κεφαλάς (cf. 3 Kings [= MT 1 Kings] 8:32) τοῦ εἰπεῖν τὴν ὑπερηφανίαν τοῦ
δράκοντος ἐν ἀτιμίᾳ (v. 25) followed by Καὶ οὐκ ἐχρόνισα ἕως ἔδειξέν μοι ὁ θεὸς τὴν ὕβριν αὐτοῦ (26).
69
Pss. Sol. 8:27–28, in Deuteronomic terms (see above) or Pss. Sol. 12:1, from the evil people (close to expression found in
canonical psalms, see, e.g., Pss 6:5; 7:2; 16[17]:13).
70
Pss. Sol. 9:8.
71
Pss. Sol. 5:6.
72
The verb “to find” εὑρίσκω occurs three times in the negative form to denote the inexistence (Pss. Sol. 13:11; 14:9; 15:11)
and once to express the fact that God will retribute sinners according to their work (Pss. Sol. 17:8).
73
Pss. Sol. 8:1.4 (see also Pss. Sol. 8:5 with ἀκοή).
74
Pss. Sol. 1:2; 5:12; 7:7; 18:2 (ἐπακούω, see Embry, “Prayer in Psalms of Solomon,” 95–6); 6:5 (εἰσακούω).
75
Pss. Sol. 2:8 (cf. Jer 18:10).
76
Pss. Sol. 6:2, 12:5.
In conclusion, the tenuous links with Deuteronomy 4 and 30 and 1 Kings 8 offer little support
to characterize the Pss. Sol. as Deuteronomic. The sin–punishment ideology may be clear but the
repentance–restoration hope is imperceptible.
2. … NOR FULLY PRIESTLY

The absence of the Deuteronomic themes of penitence and petition for forgiveness in the Pss. Sol.
may indicate a reliance on the sin–punishment–confession–remembrance schema of Leviticus 26.
The evidence, however, indicates otherwise. The verb ἐξαγορεύω is not present, although the derived
substantive ἐξαγορία is mentioned once as an indication for atonement in Pss. Sol. 9:6. The same could
be said about remembrance. The verb μιμνῄσκω is more used for denoting the fact that the sinners will
never be remembered,77 than with God as subject.78
Yet, the influence of priestly traditions is obvious. The punishment is meted out “according to the
sins of the sinners” (Pss. Sol. 2:7, 16), which is to be compared to Lev 26:28: καὶ παιδεύσω ὑμᾶς ἐγὼ
ἑπτάκις κατὰ τὰς ἁμαρτίας ὑμῶν. Hence, the notion of discipline, so important for the Pss. Sol.,79 may be
rooted in Leviticus 26 and not only Deut 8:5. Moreover, retribution according to the sins is rendered
explicit with the punishment described by the psalmist: the defilement of the altar by the foreigner is
possible only because the temple has been defiled before (Pss. Sol. 2:2–3). Otherwise said, this is the
punishment received, understood, and accepted, which reveals that the one who was punished is in a
state of sin, and how the system of purity and holiness was neglected. The temple has been profaned
(Pss. Sol. 1:8) and polluted (2:3). The offerings have been profaned (Pss. Sol. 2:3) and the sacrifice meal
polluted (Pss. Sol. 8:12). A little bit more surprisingly, Jerusalem and all that has been sanctified to the
name of God (Pss. Sol. 8:22) have also been polluted. This corresponds to the hope that the Messiah
will sanctify Jerusalem as it was in the beginning (Pss. Sol. 17:22, 30).80
Pollution and profanation of what is holy is one of the issues of the sacerdotal tradition. One may
make a difference between profanation (i.e., to deal with a holy thing as if it was not holy) and pollution
(i.e., to transform a holy thing into an impure one).81 This corresponds to the classic distinction made
by Milgrom between what is holy and what is profane, and between what is pure and what is impure.82
As for profanation, the Solomonic psalmist has probably in mind the certain unacceptable
conduct of priests, according to the book of Leviticus,83 even if this is also a prophetic concern.84
The expression ἐβεβηλοῦσαν τὰ δῶρα τοῦ θεοῦ is unique to the Psalms of Solomon.85 In Leviticus,
there are some regulations concerning specifically τὰ δῶρα τοῦ θεοῦ: it shall be salted.86 The high
77
Pss. Sol. 3:11, 4:21, 14:7.
78
Pss. Sol. 10:1, 4.
79
Pouchelle, “Prayers for Being Disciplined,” 115–32.
80
See Trafton, “What Would David Do?” 166–8.
81
See especially Embry, “Psalms of Assurance,” 173, who reminds that μιαίνω is rather used for denoting the effect of moral
impurity.
82
Jacob Milgrom, Leviticus 1–16: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 3A (Garden City,
NY: Doubleday, 1991), 616.
83
See, for instance, Lev 19:4; 22:12.
84
See, for instance, especially Ezek 22:26, but also Zech 3:4; Mal 2:11.
85
One may wonder if the expression ἐβεβηλοῦσαν τὰ δῶρα τοῦ θεοῦ is not the abbreviation of οὐ βεβηλώσουσιν τὸ ὄνομα τοῦ
θεοῦ αὐτῶν· τὰς γὰρ θυσίας κυρίου δῶρα τοῦ θεοῦ αὐτῶν (Lev 21:6).
86
Lev 2:3.
priest who offers it should be in a state of holiness.87 Neither he88 nor the offerings should have a
defect.89 Finally, one could not have eaten a meal before the offering of the first fruits.90 It is not
clear what the Solomonic Psalmist had in mind in this regard, but the expression used may well
refer to the acts of the high priest91 that affect his holiness and the holiness of the offering.
The mention of pollution is even more polemical. In Leviticus, the pollution of “the sacred
things” is mentioned once in the context with the sacrifice to Moloch.92 The pollution of the sacrifice
is never mentioned. But the expression ἐν ἀφέδρῳ αἵματος ἐμίαναν τὰς θυσίας ὡς κρέα βέβηλα93 (Pss.
Sol. 8:12) seems to point to the inappropriate sexual conduct of the priests. Becoming impure,94
they would pollute the sanctuary as well as the sacrifice.95 Another sexual polemic occurs in Pss. Sol.
2:13: ἐμιαίωσαν αὑτὰς ἐν φυρμῷ ἀναμείξεως. The expression ἐν φυρμῷ ἀναμείξεως is unique. Outside
the Pss. Sol., the word φυρμός occurs only in Ezek 7:23, where it corresponds to a difficult Hebrew
word ‫“ ַרתֹ ּוק‬chain.”96 Whereas the MT develops an uncertain meaning by asking Ezekiel to make “a
chain,” the Septuagint is more logical by carrying on the image of the people who act perversely
by “disorderly conduct.”97 The Pss. Sol. uses this image and makes it more precise with the noun
ἀνάμιξις, a hapax of the LXX. This is the nomen actionis of the verb ἀναμίγνυμι that occurs nine
times in the LXX. In Ezek 22:18, it describes Israel as an alloy that is impure.98 In Dan 2:41, it
describes the foot of the statue in the king’s dream that is composed of a mixture of clay and iron.
There, it corresponds to the root ‫ערב‬, which is used in the MT to denote illegal or illicit union99
and especially in Esd 9:2 dealing with intermarriage.100 Other important sexual matters in the Pss.
Sol. are incest101 and adultery.102
Even so, some details link the sins specified in the Pss. Sol. to Deuteronomy. Some punishments
are expressed in a Deuteronomistic manner; compare here, for instance, Pss. Sol. 2:6 with Deut
28:41.103 Surprisingly, the question of profanation and defilement is absent from the Pss. Sol. 17,
even if one of the tasks of the Messiah is to make Jerusalem holy again. Perhaps the conflation of
the kingship and high priesthood might have been an issue if this text denounces the Hasmonean
87
Lev 21:5–8.
88
Lev 21:16–23.
89
Lev 22:21–25.
90
Lev 23:9–14.
91
See, for instance, 2 Esd 9:7 and 1 Esd 8:87 = (Esd 9:15), or Ezek 20:30.
92
Lev 20:3 LXX: ἄρχων.
93
For this expression, see Ezek 4:14 in its Lucianic version: οὐδὲ εἰσελήλυθεν εἰς τὸ στόμα μου πᾶν κρέας βέβηλον (instead of
ἕωλον attested in the Vaticanus) where the prophet asserts that he never eats such meals.
94
Cf. Lev 15:33.
95
See, e.g., Num 19:20.
96
3 Kgs [= MT 1 Kings] 6:21.
97
See LSJ.
98
MT ‫ סיג‬for “dregs.”
99
See, for instance, Ps 106:35 LXX: μίγνυμι.
100
In Greek, 2 Esd 9:2, παράγω, but 1 Esd 8:67, ἐπιμίγνυμι; see also 1 Esd 8:84 and Ezek 16:37.
101
Pss. Sol. 8:9. See the analysis of Jan Joosten, “The Accusation of Incest in Psalms of Solomon 8:9: Apologetics, Halakha,
and Exegesis,” in Tempel, Lehrhaus, Synagoge: Orte jüdischen Lernens und Lebens: Festschrift für Wolfgang Krause, ed. C.
Eberhardt, M. Karrer, S. Kreuzer, and M. Meiser (Leiden: Schöningh, 2020), 205–15.
102
Pss. Sol. 8:10 with ἐμοιχῶντο ἕκαστος τὴν γυναῖκα τοῦ πλησίον αὐτοῦ as a clear transgression of the seventh and tenth
commandment, as well as the law established in Lev 20:9. See also Ezek 18:6.
103
οἱ υἱοὶ καὶ αἱ θυγατέρες ἐν αἰχμαλωσίᾳ πονηρᾷ and υἱοὺς καὶ θυγατέρας γεννήσεις, καὶ οὐκ ἔσονταί σοι· ἀπελεύσονται γὰρ ἐν
αἰχμαλωσίᾳ. See also Pss. Sol. 2:1 and Deut 28:52, or Pss. Sol. 4:19–20 and Deut 28:26.
dynasty (Pss. Sol. 17:5–6), as it is usually thought. In fact, the text alludes to the oath that God made
to David and his dynasty (Pss. Sol. 17:4), claiming that some people have illegally taken the power.
Moreover, in Pss. Sol. 1, the sins are explained by the fact that the sinners were exalted up to the
stars, an issue also found in Deuteronomy.104 Such improper exaltation is the cause for forgetting
the good things God has done for his people. Their good things of which they boast (Pss. Sol. 1:6)
may well be an ironic allusion to the good things that God has done for his people.105 The emphasis
on the fact that the sinners have committed more sins than the nations (Pss. Sol. 1:8 and 8:13) may
be alluded to also in Pss. Sol. 2:9 and 17:14. All this seems to refer to the sin of Manasseh106 and
is expressed in Deuteronomic terms. In 1 Macc 7:23, however, this is what characterizes the acts
of Alcimus who tried to become High Priest.107 The importance of the sins made in secret108 could
refer to the syntagma 109,‫ בסתר‬a conduct that is clearly inappropriate for the king.110 However, this
is also a prophetic concern,111 and also one that is found in the Psalms.112 Curiously, this important
notion is not present in the sacerdotal tradition with such wordings.
To conclude this section, the Pss. Sol. does not offer a “priestly” scheme as opposed to the
Deuteronomic one. The sins highlighted by the Pss. Sol. are related to holiness yet are also eclectic.
It combines sins related to purity, profanation, and defilement with notions that are more specifically
Deuteronomic, including the sins of the king, the sins done in secret, and the sin of hubris. How did
the Solomonic psalmist manage to merge such notions?
3. AN ORIGINAL ANSWER ROOTED IN SCRIPTURE

If there is no petition for atonement in the Pss. Sol., this is because the Solomonic psalmist takes
seriously the priestly system of atonement, even if the altar or the temple is defiled. The verbs used
by Pss. Sol. for denoting atonement are always related to the priestly traditions. For instance, LevLXX
5:13, which deals with unintentional sins, uses ἐξιλάσκομαι (Pss. Sol. 3:8) and ἀφίημι (Pss. Sol. 9:6).
The concern to be purified from sins is a reference to the Day of Atonement.113 Itis found many times
in Pss. Sol.,114 and may refer to moral impurities. If we come back to the sins committed in secret,
discussed above, it is possible that the key for the interpretation is the substantive ἄγνοια.115 In Pss.
Sol. 3:8, the Solomonic Psalmist offers a substitute to the sacrifices: ἐξιλάσατο περὶ ἀγνοίας ἐν νηστείᾳ
104
See, for instance, Deut 8:14; 17:20.
105
Deut 6:11; 26:11; 28:11; 30:9 but see also Num 10:32 and Mic 7:3.
106
3 Kgs [= MT 2 Kings] 21:9.
107
1 Macc 7:13–16.
108
E.g., Pss. Sol. 1:7.
109
Deut 13:7; 27:15, 24; 28:57.
110
Cf. 2 Kgs [= MT 2 Sam] 12:12.
111
See, e.g., Isa 45:19; 48:16.
112
Ps 101:5, also expressed with ‫במסתר‬, see Pss. Sol. 10:9, 17:12, 64:5. In Greek, the syntagma ἐν ἀποκρύφοις (Pss. Sol. 1:7;
4:5) with ἀπόκρυφος in plural is found in psalms only (Ps 9:29[10:8]; 16[17]:12; 63[64]:5) with such meaning (see also Sir
16:21, speaking of God).
113
Lev 16:30, the sole mention in Leviticus of purification from sin. Otherwise, one is purified from leprosy (Lev 13–14) or
from a discharge (22:4), and for a woman from having giving birth or after her period (e.g., Lev 12:8). See also the LXX of
Exod 34:7 and Num 14:18.
114
Pss. Sol. 3:8; 9:6; 10:1–2; 17:22, 30; 18:5 and the adjective καθαρός (17:36).
115
Pss. Sol. 3:8; 13:7; 18:4. In Pss. Sol. 18:4 the vocabulary is sapiential: ἡ παιδεία σου ἐφʼ ἡμᾶς ὡς υἱὸν πρωτότοκον μονογενῆ
ἀποστρέψαι ψυχὴν εὐήκοον ἀπὸ ἀμαθίας ἐν ἀγνοίᾳ. The fact that a son should be obedient to the discipline of his father is
καὶ ταπεινώσει ψυχῆς αὐτοῦ, which is a clear reference to the Day of Atonement116 and atonement for
unintentional117 sins in Lev 5:33.118 Should it be the case, the tradition of interpretation conveyed
by the Pss. Sol. may well have developed the idea that sinners sin in secret, as denounced mainly by
Deuteronomy, whereas the righteous sin unwillingly.119 The question is how could such a person
know? Pss. Sol. 3, which features a sharp comparison between the righteous and the sinner, offers
an answer: the divine discipline. Both righteous and sinner committed sins (or are sinners) and thus
both deserve discipline,120 but only the righteous praise the Lord and can examine their life to avoid
any sins made in ignorance.121 If we accept the idea that the sins are a community matter rather
than purely individual, then sins committed by sinners in secret cause the righteous to be in a state
of sin. This is precisely what occurs to Jerusalem in Pss. Sol. 1,122 which may refer to the regulations
concerning unwillingly sins:
3
Or when you touch human uncleanness—any uncleanness by which one can become unclean—
and are unaware of it, when you come to know it, you shall be guilty. …5 When you realize your
guilt in any of these, you shall confess the sin that you have committed. (Lev 5:3, 5)
Where Leviticus 5:5 describes how to be purified of impurities, in Pss. Sol. the issue is with moral
impurities, enacted out of ignorance. When people come to realize this by reading Leviticus, they
shall confess and then they will be atoned through the sacrifice made by the priest. In Pss. Sol., there
is no mention of sacrifice. Moreover, in Pss. Sol. 9:6, the purification is made through praise and
confessions (ἐν ἐξομολογήσει, ἐν ἐξαγορίαις). This idea is unusual. If ἐξομολόγησις is a psalmic term,
it is never said that the purification of sins comes through a praise. The merging of such a cultic
terminology with a psalmic term never occurs as such in the psalms. Yet, the fact that atonement is
given after a praise could be found in the prayer of Solomon (1 Kgs 8:33):
33
When your people Israel are defeated before enemies because they have sinned against you
and they turn and confess (ἐξομολογέω) your name and pray and are bound at this house, 34 then
may you listen from heaven and be merciful toward the sins of your servant Israel and may you
bring them back to the land that you gave to their fathers.
a topos of the Proverbs. The substantive ἀμαθία means literary “not taught” and is a hapax of the Septuagint. Symmachus
used it in Prov 14:24 and Qoh 2:13 for denouncing the fools. Then the mention “ἐν ἀγνοίᾳ” seems relatively redundant
in Pss. Sol. 18:4. Pss. Sol. 13:7–8 follows this idea, particularly in his Syriac version. In Syriac, the difficult, ἐν περιστολῇ,
is rendered by ‫“ ܕܒܝܕܥܬܐ‬who is in knowledge.” For the Syriac translator, the righteous are disciplined for the sins they
made unknowingly, whereas sinners are punished for the sins they made in conscience. The Greek version does not support
this idea completely. See also Patrick Pouchelle, “Critique textuelle et traduction du treizième Psaume de Salomon,” JSJ 42
(2011): 508–30; Embry, “Psalms of Assurance,” 199–200.
116
See Atkinson, “Perceptions of the Temple Priests,” 92–3, and Embry, “Psalms of Assurance,” 199–200.
117
For the relationship with ‫ׁשגגה‬, see below.
118
καὶ ἐξιλάσεται περὶ αὐτοῦ ὁ ἱερεὺς περὶ τῆς ἀγνοίας αὐτοῦ, ἧς ἠγνόησεν καὶ αὐτὸς οὐκ ᾔδει, καὶ ἀφεθήσεται αὐτῷ.
119
Should it be the case, then ἐν περιστολῇ could well refer to the secret sins of the sinners and be attached to Pss. Sol. 13:7
rather than to Pss. Sol. 13:8.
120
Pss. Sol. 3:5.9.
121
Pss. Sol. 3:5–8. Of course, a way to avoid committing sins without being able to know clearly them is to make a safety
fence around the Torah (Pirqe ʾAbot 1).
122
See also Embry, “Psalms of Assurance,” 194.
Moreover, Pss. Sol. 9:6 also contains “ἐν ἐξαγορίαις,” a hapax of the Septuagint. This means
“confessions” and is also a substantive derived from the verb ἐξαγορεύω (usually corresponding to
hit. ‫)ידה‬. This is possibly a reference to Lev 5:5123 (see above), where when one becomes aware of
one’s sin, this sin shall be confessed before the sacrifice. Hence, Pss. Sol. 1 may well be an example
of confession: αἱ ἁμαρτίαι αὐτῶν ἐν ἀποκρύφοις, καὶ ἐγὼ οὐκ ᾔδειν (v. 7), that is, “their sins were in
secret and I did not know.”
Other parts of the scriptures are convocated. One should also notice that in Pss. Sol. 10:1, the
purification is done so that the sins of the righteous do not become too numerous.124 Still in Pss. Sol.
10 the purification is made through the whips (μάστιξ) of the discipline (παιδεία in vv. 2–3). This is
also in accordance with the assertation made in Pss. Sol. 13:10: τὰ παραπτώματα125 αὐτῶν ἐξαλείψει
ἐν παιδείᾳ. The verb ἐξαλείφω is another verb used in Pss. Sol. to denote forgiveness. It means “to
erase,”126 but it is also used to refer to the removal of sins in Ps 50[51]:3, 10.127 The same Psalm
also employs the concept of being purified of sins (Ps 50[51]:4). Moreover, it is striking to notice
that Pss. Sol. 3:8 joins together fasting and humbling for atonement, which is also implicitly linked
to the same canonical psalm. Indeed, the verb ταπεινόω occurs in Ps 50[51]:17 “The sacrifice to
God … is a humiliated heart.” Psalm 50[51] is attributed to the repentant David, who fasted after
his sin (2 Sam 12:16), which suggests an interesting interpretation: When the son of David became
ill, David did not go to the House of the Lord but fasted and humiliated himself. Only following
his son’s death did David go to the House of the Lord, implicitly to justify the decision of God (Ps
50[51]:6), after which Bathsheba gave birth to Solomon. In Ps 50[51], the psalmist asserts that God
did not want any sacrifice apart from a broken heart (18–19), as for the Psalmist, he only requested
from God that he do good to Zion and rebuild the walls of Jerusalem, and then sacrifice would
again become possible.128
Three main objections could be raised against the argument above about the significance of
proximity between the concept of sin in Pss. Sol. and the sin of David: (1) the psalmist asks for
atonement (Ps 50[51]:4, 9, 11), whereas the Solomonic psalmist does not; (2) the Solomonic
psalmist does not hope in a return to sacrifice; (3) the sin of David was not a sin made “ἐν
ἀγνοίᾳ.”129 To answer to the first objection, we could consider Ps 31[32] as this psalm expresses
the fact that the psalmist is actually forgiven, and that this atonement has been made after a
confession:
I said, “I will confess (ἐξαγορεύω) my transgressions to the Lord,”
and you forgave (ἀφίημι) the guilt of my sin (Ps 31[32]:5).
123
The verb also occurs unexpectedly in 3 Kgs [= MT 1 Sam] 8:31: καὶ ἔλθῃ καὶ ἐξαγορεύσῃ (heb: ‫אלה‬, the usual correspondent
of ἀράομαι) κατὰ πρόσωπον τοῦ θυσιαστηρίου σου ἐν τῷ οἴκῳ τούτῳ. These verses deal with an individual who has sinned and
has to confess before the altar of the Lord.
124
See also Pss. Sol. 3:6–8 for the same idea.
125
For this word, see Pouchelle, “Critique textuelle,” 541.
126
In the Pentateuch it rather means “to erase” the memory of someone (e.g., Exod 32:32, for such a usage see also Pss.
Sol. 2:17).
127
Cf. also Ps 108[109]:14.
128
See also Embry, “Psalms of Assurance,” 200. He regards “fasting” and “humiliation” as two different categories, while
I would deal with them as essentially synonyms.
129
That is to say, this is not a ritual impurity but a moral one.
Even if, in the Pss. Sol., the righteous never actually confess their own sins by saying “we have
sinned,” the analysis of the phrase ἐν ἐξαγορίαις above shows the Pss. Sol. could express such
confessions of being in a state of sin. Confession would be a substitute for sacrifice so that if
the confession is made, through the act of uttering the Solomonic psalms, then the atonement is
granted, as the sins were made (or received) ἐν ἀγνοίᾳ.
Second, it is striking that although the profanation of the Temple seems to be the issue in Pss.
Sol. 1, 2 and 8, it is never stated that the Temple will be dedicated another time; in other words, the
theme of the purification and restoration of the Temple is not part of Pss. Sol. 130 This is particularly
curious in light of 2 Macc 6:12, which claims that the harsh events are divine discipline and occurred
specifically after the fall of Jerusalem and the profanation of the Temple. The rededication then
follows in ch. 10. This is not the case in the Pss. Sol. The hope for restoration expressed in Pss. Sol.
17 is for the sanctification of Jerusalem and not just the Temple.131 Is this due to a sort of headlong
rush where, after the Antiochian crisis, the dedication of the Temple and the disastrous cultic
mingling between high-priesthood and kingship by the Hasmonean, nothing is expected except the
restoration to the state where the whole people is holy, as it was before the golden calf?
Third, the sin of David is not unintentional. The absence of the notion of repentance seems to
confirm a kind of predestination. The righteous has been chosen by God as such by pure grace,132
so that it is simply not possible for them to sin willingly. It is perhaps possible that Pss. Sol. develops
a more subtle point. The psalmist seems to allow a sinner who has sinned to be forgiven. This may
be expressed specifically by Pss. Sol. 9:7: καὶ τίνι ἀφήσεις ἁμαρτίας εἰ μὴ τοῖς ἡμαρτηκόσιν. Moreover,
the experience of David seems to correspond to that of Lev 4:23:
When a ruler sins, doing unintentionally (‫)ש ָגגָה‬
ׁ ְ any one of all the things that by commandments
of the Lord his God ought not to be done and incurs guilt, once the sin that he has committed
is made known to him
The Hebrew ‫ש ָגגָה‬ ׁ ְ (corresponding to ἄγνοια in Lev 5:18; 22:14) does not necessarily infer that a
person does not know he or she has violated a divine commandment. This could also denote a sin
done willingly but without an unawareness of the wrongness of one’s action.133 An example is the
sin of Saul against David: Then Saul said, “I have done wrong; come back, my son David, for I will
never harm you again, because my life was precious in your sight today; I have been a fool, and have
made a great mistake.” This is why a “revelation” is necessary. Of course, the sin of David is not
qualified as an “error” (‫)ש ָגגָה‬,
ׁ ְ but the revelatory utterance of Nathan makes David aware of his sin.
Another interpretation would be to assert that, in fact, for moral impurities, sacrifice could not be
efficient, since they pertain only to ritual impurities or inadvertent sins. For moral sins, forgiveness
had to come from God.
In fact, the Levitical regulation on the sins made ‫ּש ָגגָה‬
ׁ ְ ִ‫ ב‬could allow us to delve a little bit deeper.
The first regulations concern the sins of the high priests who lead the people to err. According
130
For the issue of the Temple in the Pss. Sol., see V. Babota, “The Temple in the Psalms of Solomon,” in Psalms
of Solomon: Collected Essays, ed. F. Albrecht, K. Atkinson, and P. Pouchelle, Parabiblica 1 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck,
forthcoming).
131
A surprising fact noticed by Trafton, “What Would David Do?” 167.
132
For the question of the relationship between grace and works in the Pss. Sol., see Falk, “Psalms,” 37–8.
133
See Milgrom, Leviticus, 228.
to Milgrom134 vv. 3–21 form in fact a single case. The people err because the high priest sinned,
perhaps even willingly. Indeed, what is striking is that the sin of the high priest is not qualified as
having been made ‫ּש ָגגָה‬
ׁ ְ ִ‫ב‬. The people are obviously not responsible for the sins made by the high
priest but are considered sinners by association. The sins of the high priest are not made known
to him, but the fact that the people are now in a state of sin becomes known, as if there is “no
uninvolved outsider.”135 Applied to the Pss. Sol., this would be through the response of God in
initiating a foreign attack on Jerusalem. This message of this action, so to speak, is to make Israel
aware that something is wrong, owing to the sin of the high priest. Pss. Sol. 1 may mark an awareness
of this reciprocal process by personifying Jerusalem as a metaphoric witness. The unforgivable sin
would be to refuse the divine warning (Pss. Sol. 3:9–11), which also might explain why Pss. Sol.
always confesses the sins of others only. The Solomonic psalmists feel guilty owing to the action
of the high priests and wish to acknowledge the response/judgment of God and confess the sins of
others by which they are now in a state of impurity. They do not have to justify themselves, only to
understand history. When the righteous correctly interpret history as the just judgment of God and
the judgment is accepted, atonement is granted, even if the salvation/restoration could be delayed.
That would be the reason why there is some petition for salvation/restoration in the Pss. Sol. but
not for atonement.
To conclude, although the atonement of sins is expressed in a “priestly” manner, there is no
mention of valid sacrifice. For this absence, it could be a solution to the profanation of the Temple,136
or the simple fact that this was not the aim of the Pss. Sol. to express the validity of sacrifice as it
is best done by Leviticus,137 but it could also be rooted in the traditions of praying, praising, and
confessing witnessed in 1 Kings 8, Psalm 50[51], and Psalm 31[32]. In this way, the Solomonic
psalmist may well refer to these prayers, creating a close connection between the praise and the
confession on the one hand and the forgiveness on the other hand. After the desecration of the
Temple, acknowledged as justified by the Solomonic psalmist,138 the sin of the high priests has been
revealed, and the sacrifice has been proved inoperative.139 The example of David, or the reception
of Psalm 50[51], may give strength to the Solomonic psalmist for understanding what God was
trying to tell his people. The suffering of the righteous, understood as discipline,140 or humbling, as
well as uttering the Pss. Sol., was conceived as what could replace the sacrifice, at least temporarily
and for the impurities caused by the moral impurity of the priests.
134
Ibid., 242.
135
Ibid., 243.
136
See Atkinson, “Perceptions of the Temple Priests,” 91–5.
137
See Embry, “Psalms of assurance,” 211. This interpretation is very subtle and could lead us to think that what is at
stake is not the defilement of the Temple but the nature of the sins of the high priests. As their sins were considered moral
impurities they cannot be forgiven through sacrifice. Should we follow this line fully, the author of the Pss. Sol. could not be
qualified as “dissident” (see Werline, “The Psalms of Solomon and the Ideology of Rule,” 85–6), but would only fulfill the
scriptures: How does the system of atonement work after the fact that history has proved the high priest is guilty of moral
impurities? This does not necessarily mean that the Temple was neglected, but once the atonement for such moral sins is
given, the system of sacrifice offered by the Leviticus is sufficient. In this case, a text like Pss. Sol. 3 does not deal with any
righteousness but offers a contrast between a righteous high priest and a wicked one and the “house” described is really the
Temple (see Embry, “Psalms of Assurance,” 190–2).
138
Pss. Sol. 2:15; 3:5; 4:8; 8:7, 23, 26; and 9:2.
139
The profanation of the altar by foreigners is the punishment of the sinners who themselves profane the temple.
140
See Pouchelle, “Prayers for being Disciplined,” 115–32 and its bibliography.
4. CONCLUSION
This short survey deserves more detailed research. But we have detected in the Psalms of Solomon
influence of many parts of the scripture. No pattern identified fits completely our texts. Therefore,
we fully agree with Werline when he nuances his own position, “The categories prove to be more
a scholarly invention than the actual manner in which Ancient Jewish authors operated.”141 There
are some Deuteronomic influences, but one of the main elements of this theology, the repentance,
is almost absent. There is instead a clear priestly influence. The sins deal mainly with the question
of holiness and probably point toward the conduct of the wicked high priest. The vocabulary for
forgiveness is related to the Levitical rules. Yet, the sacrifice is completely absent, having been
replaced by fasting, humiliation, discipline, prayers, and confessions. This is probably owing to
some influence of prayers, like that of Solomon, or the psalms. However, the petition for forgiveness
is completely absent from the Pss. Sol.
Werline defined the penitential prayer as follows: “Penitential prayer is a direct address to God
in which an individual, group, or an individual on behalf of a group confesses sins and petitions
for forgiveness as an act of repentance.”142 But the Psalms of Solomon is not a penitential prayer.
It does not contain petition for forgiveness, confession of sins, or acts of repentance. Moreover,
the Deuteronomic scheme of sin–punishment–repentance–salvation is not particularly prominent.
A better scheme would be: punishment-awareness of sins–prayers–hope for restoration.143 These
are the punishments that are the revelatory means by which the righteous know the sins of the high
priest, which has caused the people to be a state of sin.144 Such a scheme is something between
psalmic traditions of petition for forgiveness and atonement/purification of the people in the
Leviticus.
The priestly allusions are important and numerous.145 When the people experience that the altar
has been profaned, and that the high priest is wicked and therefore not able to perform the correct
rituals for atoning, the originating community of the Pss. Sol. may become aware that there is no
way to deal with the inadvertent sins in the Pentateuch alone. They may have found a solution in
other traditions, for instance, the prayer of Solomon in 1 Kings 8.
The use of these psalms in the synagogue thus cannot be taken for granted. If we are correct to
assume the influence of 1 Kings 8, and taking the priestly influence into account, we could confirm
the approach initiated by Embry.146 These psalms were conceived to be uttered publicly in the
Temple. Whether this goal was actually achieved or not is debatable, and all the more so if the texts
were composed in Greek. However, even if the sacrifices may have been inoperative, either because
the altar was defiled or because the sins were moral and not ritual, prayers in the Temple could still
be conceived as efficacious.
141
142
Werline, Penitential Prayer, 2.
143
This is close to what Embry discerns: “In short, the metaphysical reaction (divine punishment) is contingent upon
historical activities (disregard for Temple purity, arrogance of the Gentiles)”; Embry, “Psalms of Assurance,” 266.
144
For this, see also Joosten, “The Accusation of Incest,” 213.
145
Pace Werline, who writes: “The author’s main concern is about Hasmonean, and then Roman, oppressive rule, not about
priests”; “The Psalms of Solomon and the Ideology of Rule,” 82.
146
Embry, “Prayer in Psalms of Solomon,” 99; and “Psalms of Assurance,” 183–92.
Therefore, I would position the Solomonic psalmists close to a sacerdotal movement,147 but
hesitate to identify them as priests. The argument of Pss. Sol. 17 suggests that the building of a
kingdom, rather than a priestly order, seems convincing.148 Werline recalls the position of Horsley
who sees in the Solomonic psalmist a community of scribes.149 Ben Sira is a good example of a
scribe with priestly concerns, without being himself a priest.150 After all, ὁ τιμῶν πατέρα ἐξιλάσκεται
ἁμαρτίας (Sir 3:3) “Those who honor their father atone for sins” resonates with Pss. Sol. 10:1–2 in
which honoring one’s father also indicates accepting his (divine) discipline and therefore becoming
purified of sins. The proximity of Sir 18:13 with Pss. Sol. noted above may be an impetus to study
further the relationship between the two texts and to explore the possibility that the Pss. Sol. may
belong to a tradition of scribe that derives from Ben Sira.
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of Penitential Prayer in Second Temple Judaism. Vol. 1 of Seeking the Favor of God. Edited by Mark J. Boda,
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in The Origins of Penitential Prayer in Second Temple Judaism. Vol. 1 of Seeking the Favor of God. Edited
by Mark J. Boda, Daniel K. Falk, and Rodney A. Werline. EJL 21. Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2006.
Boda, Mark J. Praying the Tradition: The Origin and Use of Tradition in Nehemiah 9. BZAW 277.
Bons, Eberhard. Les douze prophètes: Osée. La Bible d’Alexandrie 23/1. Paris: Cerf, 2002.
Bons, Eberhard. “Philosophical Vocabulary in the Psalms of Solomon: The Case of Ps. Sol. 9:4.” Pages 49–58
in The Psalms of Solomon: Language, History, Theology. Edited by E. Bons and P. Pouchelle. EJL 40.
Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2015.
Charlesworth, James H. “Jewish Hymns, Odes and Prayers (ca 167 B.C.E.–135 C.E.).” Pages 411–36 in Early
Judaism and Its Modern Interpreters. Edited by Robert A. Kraft and George W. E. Nickelsburg. Atlanta,
GA: Scholars Press, 1986.
147
As stated before by Atkinson, “Perceptions of the Temple priests,” 93.
148
Werline, “The Psalms of Solomon and the Ideology of Rule,” 82.
149
Ibid., 82. See especially Richard A. Horsley, Jesus and the Spiral of Violence: Popular Jewish Resistance in Roman Palestine
(Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1993), 203–6; Whoever Hears You Hears Me (London: T&T Clark, 1999), 69, 106–7.
150
Or at least, he did not have this claim.
Embry, Bradley J. “Prayers in Psalms of Solomon or the Temple, Covenantal Fidelity, and Hope.” Pages 81–99
in Studies in Jewish Prayer. Edited by R. Hayward and B. Embry. JSSSupp 17. Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2005.
Embry, Bradley J. “Psalms of Assurance: An Analysis of the Formation and Function of Psalms of Solomon in
Second Temple Judaism.” PhD diss., Durham University, 2005.
Falk, Daniel K. Daily, Sabbath and Festival Prayers in the Dead Sea Scrolls. STDJ 27. Leiden: Brill, 1998.
Falk, Daniel K. “Psalms and Prayers.” Pages 7–56 in The Complexities of Second Temple Judaism. Vol.1 of
Justification and Variegated Nomism. Edited by D. A. Carson, P. T. O’Brien, and M. A. Seifrid. WUNT
Holm-Nielsen, Svend. Die Psalmen Salomos. Jüdische Schriften aus hellenistisch-römischer Zeit 4/2.
Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlaghaus, 1977.
Horsley, Richard A. Jesus and the Spiral of Violence: Popular Jewish Resistance in Roman Palestine. Minneapolis,
Horsley, Richard A. Whoever Hears You Hears Me. London: T&T Clark, 1999.
Joosten, Jan. “The Accusation of Incest in Psalms of Solomon 8:9 Apologetics, Halakha, and Exegesis.” Pages
205–15 in Tempel, Lehrhaus, Synagoge: Orte jüdischen Lernens und Lebens Festschrift für Wolfgang Kraus.
Edited by C. Eberhardt, M. Karrer, S. Kreuzer and M. Meiser. Leiden: Schöningh, 2020.
Joosten, Jan. “Reflections on the Original Language of the Psalms of Solomon.” Pages 31–47 in The
Psalms of Solomon: Language, History, Theology. Edited by E. Bons and P. Pouchelle. EJL 40. Atlanta,
GA: SBL, 2015.
Keddie, G. Anthony. Revelations of Ideology: Apocalyptic Class Politics in Early Roman Palestine. JSJSupp
Klawans, Jonathan. Impurity and Sin in Ancient Judaism. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000.
Lincicum, David. Paul and the Early Jewish Encounter with Deuteronomy. WUNT 2/284. Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 2010.
Milgrom, Jacob. Leviticus 1–16: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. AB 3A. Garden City,
Morrow, William. “The Affirmation of Divine Righteousness in Early Penitential Prayers: A Sign of Judaism’s
Entry into the Axial Age.” Pages 101–17 in The Origins of Penitential Prayer in Second Temple Judaism.
Vol. 1 of Seeking the Favor of God. Edited by Mark J. Boda, Daniel K. Falk, and Rodney A. Werline. EJL
21. Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2006.
Newman, Judith. Praying by the Book: The Scripturalization of Prayer in Second Temple Judaism. EJL 14.
Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1999.
Nickelsburg, George W. E. Jewish Literature between the Bible and the Mishnah: A Historical and Literary
Introduction. Philadelphia, PA: Augsburg Fortress, 1981.
Nickelsburg, George W. E. “6. Judgment, Life-After-Death, and Resurrection in the Apocrypha and the non
Apocalyptic Pseudepigrapha.” Pages 141–62 in Death, Life-After-Death, Resurrection and the World-to-
Come in the Judaisms of Antiquity. Vol. 4 of Judaism in Late Antiquity. Edited by A. J. Avery-Peck and J.
Neusner. HdO. Leiden: Brill, 2000.
Pate, C. Marvin. The Reverse of the Curse: Paul, Wisdom, and the Law. WUNT 2/114. Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 2000.
Pouchelle, Patrick. “Critique textuelle et traduction du treizième Psaume de Salomon.” JSJ 42 (2011): 508–30.
Pouchelle, Patrick. “Prayers for Being Disciplined: Notes on παιδεύω and παιδεία in the Psalms of Solomon.”
Pages 115–32 in The Psalms of Solomon: Language, History, Theology. Edited by E. Bons and P. Pouchelle.
EJL 40. Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2015.
Pouchelle, Patrick. “Les Psaumes de Salomon : Le point sur les questions posées par un ‘messie’ trop étudié.”
Pages 153–203 in Encyclopédie des messianismes juifs dans l’Antiquité. Edited by D. Hamidović, X. Levieils,
and C. Mézange. Leuven: Peeters, 2018.
Prigent, Pierre. “Psaumes de Salomon.” Pages 945–92 in La Bible: Ecrits intertestamentaires. La bibliothèque
de la Pléiade. Paris: Gallimard, 1987.
Ryle, Herbert E., and Montague R. James. Psalms of the Pharisees. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1891.
Scott, James M. “Paul’s Use of Deuteronomic Tradition.” JBL 112 (1993), 645–65.
Sprinkle, Preston M. Law and Life: The Interpretation of Leviticus 18:5 in Early Judaism and in Paul. WUNT
Trafton, Joseph. “What Would David Do?” Pages 155–74 in The Psalms of Solomon: Language, History,
Theology. Edited by E. Bons and P. Pouchelle. EJL 40. Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2015.
Werline, Rodney A. Penitential Prayer in Second Temple Judaism: The Development of a Religious Institution.
EJL 13. Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1998.
Werline, Rodney A. “The Psalm of Solomon and the Ideology of Rule.” Pages 69–87 in Conflicted Boundaries
in Wisdom and Apocalypticism. Edited by B. G. Wright and L. M. Wills. Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2005.
Westermann, Claus. Praise and Lament in the Psalm. Translated by K. R. Crim and R. N. Soulen. Atlanta,
GA: John Knox, 1981.
Winninge, Mikael. Sinners and the Righteous: A Comparative Study of the Psalms of Solomon and Paul’s
Letters. CBNT 26. Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1995.
Wright, Robert B. The Psalms of Solomon: A Critical Edition of the Greek Text. Jewish and Christian Texts in
Contexts and Related Studies 1. London: T&T Clark, 2007.
PART FOUR
Dead Sea Scrolls

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Contextual Errors in
1QIsaa: How the Scribe Was
Impacted by His Textual
Environment*
DONALD W. PARRY
1. INTRODUCTION
Determining a theory or theories regarding why textual deviations exist in 1QIsaa versus the
Masoretic Text (hereafter MT) Isaiah requires multiple levels of examination and several
approaches.1 One level of examination is associated with the biblical Hebrew manuscripts during
the last centuries before the Common Era, which presented distinct challenges for copyists and
translators of the time. These challenges included rare words (e.g., hapax legomena, dislegomena,
and trislegomena), difficult-to-read book hands and unreadable letters and words, graphically
similar characters (the graphical sets wāw/yôd, dālet/rêš, hê/ḥêt, gîmel/kāp, and others), irregular or
inconsistent orthography, incomprehensible scribal notations, inconsistent use of matres lectionis,
lack of vocalization, and more. Additionally, there are considerations concerning scribal school
conventions, stylistic approaches and methods, possible theological changes, exegetical procedures
and techniques, phonological considerations, Aramaic influence on the Hebrew language,2
paleographic features, paragraphing and text divisions, marginal and interlinear notations, and a
multitude of categories of copyists’ accidents that occurred when the text was copied onto a new
leather scroll. These and other factors caused scribes and copyists to make various mechanical
* This chapter is dedicated to Professor James H. Charlesworth, our friend, colleague, and a scholar of great distinction!
His knowledge of the ancient world is celebrated and his writings are held in high regard by worldwide audiences. He
has heightened my own appreciation for the Hebrew Bible and Dead Sea Scrolls in remarkable ways and I personally
acknowledge his scholarship on this occasion.
1
The most complete and up-to-date study of Biblical Hebrew textual criticism is Emanuel Tov’s Textual Criticism of the
Hebrew Bible, 3rd ed. (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2012). See also Christian D. Ginsburg, Introduction to the
Massoretico-Critical Edition (New York: Ktav, 1966); and Jacob Weingreen, Introduction to the Critical Study of the Text
of the Hebrew Bible (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1982). Compare also the brief treatments of the subject by Julio T. Barrera,
Jewish Bible and the Christian Bible (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 367–421; and Ernst Würthwein, Text of the Old Testament (Grand
Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995), 107–20.
2
Edward Y. Kutscher, A History of the Hebrew Language (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1982), 104, maintains that “the Aramaic
influence is all pervasive” in the DSS and “The Isaiah Scroll especially is permeated by Aramaic elements.”
and unintentional errors when making new copies of the text (and the translators when creating
translations from their Hebrew Vorlage made similar mistakes).
As Ulrich/Flint 2:89 explain,
Occasionally, all witnesses display erroneous or implausible readings, showing that the problem
entered the text prior to any of the preserved witnesses. The JPS Hebrew English Tanakh in its
translation of Isaiah lists “Meaning of Heb. uncertain” or “Meaning of verse uncertain” almost
one hundred times, and suggests “Emendation yields …” approximately as often. If a committee of
eminent specialists with a neatly printed Hebrew text and with all the scholarly tools available today
finds the text “uncertain” at multiple places, we should not be surprised that ancient scribes as well
as the Greek translator also felt challenged by the text they were copying. They often had to choose
between copying a form which they may not have recognized or may have thought erroneous and
replacing it with their lectio facilior to achieve a sentence that made sense. (Quotation marks added)
The objective of this chapter, therefore, is to demonstrate that a significant number of errors that
exist in 1QIsaa are contextual mishaps, or errors that pertain to the copyist’s3 immediate textual
environment. By the copyist’s immediate textual environment, I refer to the copyist’s writing line
or a line or two above the writing line. The copyist’s immediate textual environment also includes
the reading line of the copyist’s Vorlage. We categorize the contextual mishaps into eight different
categories as follows:
I. Errors Pertaining to Graphically Similar Letters
II. Errors Pertaining to Metathesis or an Interchange of Letters
III. Errors Pertaining to the Transposition of Words (Syntactical Variations)
IV. Errors Pertaining to the Misdivision of Letters or Words
V. Errors Due to the Confusion of a Ligature
VI. Letters or Words That Constitute a Dittogram
VII. Letters or Words That Constitute a Haplograph
VIII. Assimilation of a Letter or Letters That Are in Proximity to the Copyist’s Writing
2. METHODOLOGICAL MATTERS
For the purposes of this chapter, please note the following items:
(1) Because there are literally hundreds of contextual errors in 1QIsaa, I will discuss
representative examples, rather than comprehensively examining each of the eight categories.
3
As Tov argues, there were actually two 1QIsaª copyists. He labels them Scribe A and Scribe B, and demonstrates that
they exhibited two different scribal procedures that pertain to orthography, morphology, scribal marks, interlinear and
intercolumnal corrections, plus more; see Emanuel Tov’s Scribal Practices and Approaches Reflected in the Texts Found in
the Judean Desert, STDJ 54 (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 19–20, plus the bibliographic references in notes 36–7. For the purposes
of this chapter, I will not attempt to identify each copyist, rather, I will simply refer to 1QIsaª’s “copyist.”
CONTextual Errors in 1QISa 389
Perhaps future studies (via a thesis, a dissertation, a monograph, or another form) will
constitute exhaustive studies of any one of the eight categories.
(2) Much of the information in this study may be added to or refined by future inquiries that
suggest additional theories regarding why MT deviates from 1QIsaa, or vice versa. Also, a
new discovery of an early text of Isaiah—be it in Hebrew, Greek, or another language—
could completely change our understanding of a reading. Consequently, in this chapter
I occasionally present two or more theories regarding certain deviations. See, for example,
the cases in Isa 25:12; 28:17; 32:19; and 63:2.
(3) For each of the eight categories, I present the Isaianic chapter and verse of the passage under
discussion (in bold letters) followed by the lemma. In some cases, I briefly annotate the
lemma to clarify the topic at hand.4
3. CATEGORIZED ERRORS
3.1. Errors Pertaining to Graphically Similar Letters
The first category pertains to graphically similar letters. On a number of occasions, the 1QIsaa
copyist apparently misread one or more letters on the reading line of his Vorlage and then copied
them incorrectly. Many of the cases listed below clearly illustrate these errors caused by graphically
similar letters; others cases, however, are not illustrated so clearly. For example, the interchanges
with the graphical sets hê/ḥêt (shown below) appear to be the 1QIsaa copyist’s errors, but they may
actually be phonological errors, or examples of “weakening of the gutturals.”5 Likewise, there are
sometimes multiple legitimate explanations for deviances of graphical-set interchanges in the scroll
versus MT. The following catalog sets forth possible errors in a variety of graphical sets in 1QIsaa
versus MT.
(1) Possible instances of errors in 1QIsaª in the graphical set hê/ḥêt.
3:24 ‫ֲגֹורה‬
‫ ח ׇ‬MT LXX | ‫ הגורה‬1QIsaª.
21:4 ‫ חִ ְׁשקִ י‬MT | ‫ השקי‬1QIsaª.
21:15 ‫ ח ֲׇרבֹות‬MT | ‫ הרבות‬1QIsaª | τὸ πλῆθος LXX (via √ ‫)?רבב‬.
30:23 ‫ נִ ְרחׇ ב‬MT | ‫ נרהב‬1QIsaª.
42:16 ‫ מַ חְ ׁשׇ ְך‬MT | ‫ מהשוכים‬1QIsaa.
51:9 ‫ ַרהַ ב‬MT 1QIsac (‫ רחוב | )רהׂ[ב‬1QIsaª.
51:18 ‫ ְמנַהֵ ל‬MT | ‫ מנחל‬1QIsaª | ὁ παρακαλῶν LXX (via √ ‫)?נחם‬.
4
For additional notes and comments of each lemma, consult Donald W. Parry, Exploring the Isaiah Scrolls and Their
Textual Variants, STHB 3 (Leiden: Brill, 2020), passim. Elisha Qimron, A Grammar of the Hebrew of the Dead Sea Scrolls
(Jerusalem: Yad Yizhak Ben-Zvi, 2018), passim, and Eric D. Reymond, Qumran Hebrew: An Overview of Orthography,
Phonology, and Morphology (Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2014), passim.
5
Takamitsu Muraoka, “Isaiah Scroll (iQIsaa),” in Encyclopedia of Hebrew Language and Linguistics, ed. Geoffrey Khan
(Leiden: Brill, 2013), 3.
(2) Possible instances of errors in 1QIsaª pertaining to the graphical set dālet/rêš.
16:14 ‫ כַּבִ יר‬MT | ‫ כבוד‬1QIsaa LXX. A case of dālet/rêš confusion; or, alternatively, the scribe
was influenced by ‫כבוד‬, located nine words previously.
17:12 ‫ ּכַּבִ ִירים‬MT | ‫ כבדים‬1QIsaa | > LXX.
21:10 ‫ ּג ְׇרנִ י‬MT | ‫ גדרי‬1QIsaª | καὶ οἱ ὀδυνώμενοι LXX. 1QIsaª’s ‫ ׇגּדֵ ר( גדרי‬, “dry-stone wall,”
HALOT, 181) does not match ‫ ְמדֻׁשׇ ִתי‬in the parallelism.
22:5 ‫ קִ ר וְ ׁשֹו ַע‬MT | ‫ קדשו‬1QIsaª. An example of graphic similarity, ‫?קדשו = קר וׁשוע‬
27:2 ‫ חֶ מֶ ד‬MT | ‫ חוםר‬1QIsaa MTmss (‫ | )חמר‬καλός· ἐπιθύμημα LXX.
29:3 ‫ ְמצֻרֹ ת‬MT | ‫ מצודות‬1QIsaª | ‫ מצֹור‬4QIsaf | πύργους LXX. MT has ‫“( ְמצֻרֹ ת‬fortified cities,”
HALOT, 623) and 1QIsaª sets forth ‫“( מצודות‬mountain strongholds,” HALOT, 622).
Compare 29:7.
29:5 ‫ ז ׇׇריִ ְך‬MT | ‫ זדיך‬1QIsaª. We note also that a single MTms (K, HUB–Isaiah) reads
‫ = זדיך‬1QIsaª.
29:7 ‫ּומצֹ דׇ תׇ ה‬
ְ MT | ‫ ומצרתה‬1QIsaª | καὶ πάντες οἱ συνηγμένοι ἐπ᾽ αὐτὴν LXX. Compare 29:3.
LXX’s translator apparently misread the ṣādê for the ʿayin, thus reading ‫ומעדתה‬.
33:3 ‫רֹוממֻתֶ ָך‬ְ ֵ‫ מ‬MT | ‫ מדממתך‬1QIsaª | ‫ מרממתיך‬MTmss | ἀπὸ τοῦ φόβου σου LXX. Critics are
divided as to the primary reading, MT or 1QIsaª.
47:8 ‫ אֵ דַ ע‬MT 4QIsad ( ‫)[אד]ע‬
ׄ LXX | ‫ אראה‬1QIsaa.
(3) Possible instances of errors in 1QIsaª pertaining to the graphical set wāw/yôd.
5:29 ‫ וְ ׁשׇ אַ ג‬MTket | ‫ יִ ְׁשאַ ג‬MTqere MTmss 1QIsaª 4QpapIsap | καὶ παρέστηκαν LXX.
11:4 ‫ לְ עַנְ וֵי‬MT | ‫ לענֹ יֹ י‬1QIsaa σ′ (πτωχους) | τοὺς ταπεινοὺς LXX.
14:19 ‫יֹורדֵ י‬ ְ MT | ‫ יורדו‬1QIsaa.
17:5 ‫ יִ קְ צֹור‬MT LXX | ‫ וקציר‬1QIsaa.
23:7 ‫ יֹ בִ לּוהׇ‬MT | ‫ ובליה‬1QIsaa | LXX ἢ παραδοθῆναι αὐτήν.
37:27 ‫ קִ צְ ֵרי‬MT 2 Kgs 19:26 | ‫ קצרו‬1QIsaa.
41:29 ‫ אׇ וֶן‬MT | ‫ אין‬1QIsaa. Graphical confusion? Or the scroll’s copyist was impacted by ‫אין‬,
which is twice attested in the previous verse (see the photo, Plate XXXV, lines 7–8).
44:4 ‫ וְ צׇ ְמחּו‬MT | ‫ יצמחו‬1QIsaa.
44:7 ‫ּׂשּומי‬
ִ ‫ ִמ‬MT | ‫ משימו‬1QIsaa. But compare √ ‫ שים‬in 10:6.
51:5 ‫ זְרֹ עִ י‬. . . ‫ ּוזְרֹ עַי‬MT 1QIsab LXX | ‫ זרועו‬. . . ‫ וזרועו‬1QIsaª. “my arm” (‫ )זְרֹ עִ י‬versus “his arm”
(‫)זרועו‬.
54:2 ‫ יַּטּו‬MT | ‫ יטי‬1QIsaª LXX (πῆξον).
(4) Possible instances of errors in 1QIsaª pertaining to other graphical sets.
4:4 ‫ ּבׇ עֵר‬MT LXX | ‫ סער‬1QIsaª. Graphic set bêt/sāmek.
5:11 ‫ ְמאַ ח ֲֵרי‬MT 4QpIsab | ‫ מאחזי‬1QIsaª. Graphic set zayin/rêš.
6:9 ‫וְ אַ ל‬1,2 MT LXX | ‫ועל‬1,2 1QIsaª. Graphic sets ʿayin/ʾālep. The interchange between and ‫אֶ ל‬
and ‫ עַל‬in MT and 1QIsaª is common. Are the interchanges associated with phonology or
graphic similarity or were they impacted by Aramaic?
13:9 ‫ אַ כְ ז ִׇרי‬MT | ‫ אגזרי‬1QIsaa | ἀνίατος LXX. Graphic set gîmel/kāp.
16:9 ‫ א ֲַר ׇּיוְֶך‬MT | ‫ ארזיך‬1QIsaa LXX (τὰ δένδρα σου). Graphic set zayin/wāw.
26:7 ‫ ְּת ַפּלֵס‬MT LXX (παρεσκευασμένη) | ‫ תפלט‬1QIsaa. Graphic set ṭêt/sāmek.
28:22 ‫ וְ עַּתׇ ה‬MT | ‫ ואתה‬1QIsaª LXX (καὶ ὑμεῖς). Possibly an error pertaining to the graphic set
ʿayin/ʾālep, or a phonetic error. Cf. similar errors in 41:8 and 64:7[8]‌.
30:23 ‫ יִ ְרעֶה‬MT LXX | ‫ ז̇ רעה‬1QIsaª. A 1QIsaª scribe corrected the first character, possible
from wāw (or yôd?) to zayin,6 but perhaps from zayin to wāw,7 ultimately reading ‫ז̇ רעה‬. In
any case, the reading is in error, either due to yôd/zayin graphic similarity or impacted by
‫זרעך‬, which is located in the manuscript immediately above the word under discussion (a
case of a vertical appropriation; see col. XXV, line 5).
31:5 ‫ וְ הִ ְמלִ יט‬MT | ‫ והפליט‬1QIsaª | LXX καὶ σώσει. The graphical set pê/mêm. Both Hebrew
readings are possible in the verse.
34:15 ‫ קִ ּפֹוז‬MT | ‫ קופד‬1QIsaª. Graphic set dālet/zayin; compare 14:23, where MT reads ‫קִ ּפֹ ד‬
and 1QIsaa has ‫קפז‬, the exact opposite that exists here in 34:15.
42:11 ‫ יִ צְ וׇחּו‬MT | ‫ יצריחו‬1QIsaa LXX(vid). Graphic set wāw/rêš.
43:19 ‫ נְ הׇ רֹות‬MT LXX | ‫ נתיבות‬1QIsaa. Graphically similar letters—hê and tāw; bêt and rêš—
differentiate the readings of MT and 1QIsaa.
44:4 ‫ ּבְ בֵ ין‬MT | ‫ כבין‬1QIsaa. Graphic set bêt/kāp.
65:4 ‫ ּופְ ַרק‬MTket | ‫ ומרק‬MTqere 1QIsaa LXX Tg Vulg. The scroll likely produces the primary
reading.
65:5 ‫ ִּתּגַׁש‬MT | ‫ תגע‬1QIsaa | ἐγγίσῃς LXX. Graphic set ‘ayin/šîn.
66:15 ‫ וְ כַּסּופׇה‬MT | ‫ ובסופה‬1QIsaa. Graphic set bêt/kāp.
3.2. Errors Pertaining to Metathesis or an Interchange of Letters

In a handful of cases in 1QIsaª, the copyist created an error in the form of metathesis,8 or an
interchange of letters. These errors need to be accounted for, but doing so is challenging because it
is sometimes difficult to decipher which of the two Hebrew witnesses contains the primary reading;
such is the case with ‫ שלמה‬and ‫ ִׂש ְמלׇה‬in Isa 3:7. Both words are regularly attested in the Hebrew
Bible— ‫( ׂשמלה‬attested thirty-one times) is attested approximately twice as often as ‫( שלמה‬attested
sixteen times)—and both carry the same meaning (see HALOT, 1332, 1337). But because the
previous verse (Isa 3:6) is part of the same pericope, and because that verse attests ‫ שמלה‬for both
MT and 1QIsaª, then ‫ שלמה‬in 1QIsaª 3:7 may signify an error, which is an example of metathesis
of the mêm and lāmed.
3:7 ‫ ִׂש ְמלׇה‬MT | ‫ שלמה‬1QIsaª. Metathesis of the mêm and lāmed.
5:27 ‫ ׇעיֵף‬MT 4QIsab | ‫ יעף‬1QIsaª | οὐ πεινάσουσιν οὐδὲ κοπιάσουσιν LXX. 1QIsaª’s copyist may
have read ‫ יעף‬on his Vorlage, or, perhaps he erred by means of metathesis. Cf. also 28:12
‫( ֶל ׇעיֵף‬MT) and ‫( ליעוף‬1QIsaª).
8:6 ַ‫ הַ ִּׁשֹלח‬MT Tg Syr | ‫ השולח‬1QIsaª | ׂ‫ השיֹ לה‬4QIsae | τοῦ Σιλωαμ LXX. 1QIsaª either conveys
an error of metathesis (‫ )השולח‬or demonstrates the so-called Canaanite Shift from /a/ to /o/.9
9:18[19] ‫ נֶעְ ּתַ ם‬MT | ‫ נתעם‬1QIsaª | συγκέκαυται LXX. Metathesis of the tāw and ‘ayin in
the Qumran text resulted in an unintelligible reading. Or, the unpronounced ‘ayin may
have caused the error, because the pronunciation of both ‫ נעתם‬and ‫ נתעם‬would have been
6
Eugene C. Ulrich and Peter W. Flint, eds., Qumran Cave 1.II: The Isaiah Scrolls, DJD 32 (Oxford: Clarendon Press), 2:107.
7
Donald W. Parry and Elisha Qimron, Great Isaiah Scroll (1QIsaa): A New Edition, STDJ 32 (Leiden: Brill, 1999).
8
For a brief study of metathesis in the Hebrew witnesses of the HB, see Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 232–3.
9
For a discussion and examples of the Canaanite Shift, see Reymond, Qumran Hebrew, 180–1.
comparable. Or, as Horgan proposes, the reading of 1QIsaa is a Nithpael perfect third
masculine singular via √‫“ עמם‬to be darkened/black.”10
13:19 ‫ ִּתפְ אֶ ֶרת‬MT | ‫ תפראת‬1QIsaa. Metathesis of the ’ālep and rêš in 1QIsaa (‫ )תפראת‬resulted in
an unintelligible reading. The unpronounced ’ālep may have caused the error, because the
pronunciation of both ‫ ִּתפְ אֶ ֶרת‬and ‫ תפראת‬would have been similar.
15:5 ‫ צֹ עַר‬MT | ‫ צעור‬1QIsaa. 1QIsaa (‫)צעור‬, an error of metathesis? Or, evidence of an
Aramaism?
29:9 ‫ הִ ְׁשּתַ ע ְַׁשעּו‬MT | ‫ התשתעשעו‬1QIsaª | > LXX. The scribe of 1QIsaª erred by writing the non-
metathesized ‫התשעשעו‬, and then he or a subsequent copyist corrected the manuscript by
writing the interlinear tāw (‫)התשתעשעו‬, but failed to erase the tav that follows the hê. It is
possible that the scroll’s scribe who wrote ‫ התשעשעו‬was impacted by Aramaic dialects that set
forth non-metathesized forms.11
32:19 ‫ הׇ עִ יר‬MT | ‫היער‬2 1QIsaª | > LXX. Two chief possibilities explain the error of 1QIsaª:
(a) the scribe accidentally transposed the letters, changing ‫ העיר‬to read ‫ ;היער‬or (b) the scribe
assimilated ‫היער‬, which is found three words earlier in the verse.
35:8 ‫ מַ ְסלּול‬MT | ‫ מסולל‬1QIsaa. An error of metathesis of the lāmed and the wāw?
40:20 ‫ יִ ְרקַ ב‬MT | ‫ ירבק‬1QIsaa. The 1QIsaa copyist who wrote ‫ ידבק‬created two errors: a dālet/rêš
confusion and a transposition of letters, writing bêt/qôp rather than qôp/bêt. The same or a
subsequent scribe corrected the dālet to read rêš (see PQ 67, note 19a) but failed to repair
the transposition of letters. In association with these errors of 1QIsaa, we note that a single
medieval HB manuscript (K, HUB–Isaiah) reads ‫( יקרב‬transposition of the qôp and rêš?).
3.3. Errors Pertaining to the Transposition of Words (Syntactical Variations)

In addition to word variations (caused by metathesis errors), MT and 1QIsaa also vary syntactically
(e.g., see 1:30; 23:9; 36:12; 37:1, 7, 32–33; 43:3; 49:6, 25; 52:7; 55:13; 60:7; 61:7; 62:8; and
63:9, 17). The syntactical variations were possibly created as 1QIsaa’s copyist was copying the text—
while the copyist’s eyes were moving back and forth from the Vorlage to the writing line. Though
the two versions of text clearly differ, these differences do not necessarily constitute errors in either
MT or 1QIsaa. Because of the multiple variations, Talmon writes that “the widely encountered
textual phenomenon of inter-Version variations in the form of syntactical inversion cannot be judged
to be merely an indication of ordinary scribal laxity.” Instead, Talmon sees many examples of such
variations as “evidence for the existence of equally valid text-traditions which cannot be reduced
to one common archetype, and/or scribal manifestations of stylistic conventions.”12 With Talmon’s
words in mind, I have not selected to deal with only the following examples of transposition of
words (found in 1QIsaª), which likely represents an error.
10
See Maurya P. Horgan, Pesharim: Qumran Interpretation of Biblical Books, CBQMS 8 (Washington, DC: Catholic Biblical
Association of America, 1979), 109.
11
On non-metathesized forms, see Elisha Qimron, Hebrew of the Dead Sea Scrolls (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1986), 55–6.
12
Shemaryahu Talmon, “Textual Study of the Bible: A New Outlook,” in Qumran and the History of the Biblical Text, ed.
Frank Moore Cross and Shemaryahu Talmon (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1975), 370–1. See also Fassberg’s
views of word order in Isaiah and other biblical texts in Steven E. Fassberg, “The Syntax of the Biblical Documents from
the Judean Desert as Reflected in a Comparison of Multiple Copies of Biblical Texts,” in Diggers at the Well: Proceedings of
37:32 ‫ ִמירּוׁשׇ ַל ִם‬MT 4QIsab 2 Kgs 19:31 LXX | ‫ מציון‬1QIsaa • ‫ מֵ הַ ר צִ ּיֹון‬MT 2 Kgs 19:31 LXX |
‫ מירושלים‬1QIsaa. In this verse, 1QIsaa has two deviations from the majority of witnesses—it
transposes ‫ מציון‬and ‫ מירושלים‬and omits the word ‫הר‬. With these departures, a copyist or
scribe has apparently harmonized the verse to agree with Isa 2:3: ‫כי מציון תצא תורה ודבר יהוה‬
‫מירושלם‬. The great majority of other Isaianic passages that present Zion and Jerusalem within
the same parallelistic pattern or within the same verse, too, consign Zion before Jerusalem
(see 2:3; 4:3; 4:4; 10:12; 10:32; 24:23; 30:19; 31:9; 33:20; 37:22 = 2 Kgs 19:21; 40:9;
41:27; 52:1; 62:1; 64:10). This indicates that the scribe of 1QIsaa may have harmonized
the verse under discussion according to these other passages that first attest Zion followed
by Jerusalem. An exception, beyond the one in MT Isa 37:32, is Isa 52:2, where Jerusalem
precedes Zion.
3.4. Errors Pertaining to the Misdivision of Letters or Words

A few of the readings in 1QIsaª also demonstrate a simple mechanical error, in which the scribe
failed to properly divide words. Mechanical errors often demonstrate the laxity of the copyist
in copying the text onto the writing line. The five cases below may or may not represent errors
because they may pertain to scribal school approaches or stylistic differences.
18:1 ‫ צִ לְ צַ ל‬MT | ‫ צל צל‬1QIsaª | πλοίων LXX. 1QIsaª’s ‫ צל צל‬may be an instance of an improper
misdivision of the word; but compare also umbra umbra in α′.
40:20 ‫ יְ בַ ּקֶ ׁש־לֹו‬MT | ‫ ובשקלו‬1QIsaa. The 1QIsaa copyist wrote ‫ ובשקלו‬as one word (note the
qôp/lāmed ligature on the leather); the copyist also transposed the letters šîn and qôp,
creating ‫ בשק‬instead of ‫בקש‬, a simple mechanical error.
42:13 ַ‫ אַ ף־יַצְ ִריח‬MT | ‫ אפיצריח‬1QIsaa. Possibly an improper division of words.
43:2 ‫ ּבְ מֹו־אֵ ׁש‬MT 1QIsaa | ‫ [ב]מואש‬1QIsab. Improper division of words? Stylistic difference?
51:6 ‫ ּכְ מֹו־כֵן‬MT 1QIsaª | ‫ כ̇ מוכן‬1QIsab. Improper division of words? Stylistic difference?
66:1 ‫ אֵ י־זֶה‬. . . ‫ וְ אֵ י־זֶה‬MT | ‫ איזה‬. . . ‫ ואיזה‬1QIsaa 1QIsab MTmss. Likely a stylistic difference.
3.5. Errors Due to the Confusion of a Ligature

Another element that may have caused some of the errors in 1QIsaª is the ligatured letters in the
copyist’s Vorlage; these letters look similar to other Hebrew letters. For example, a ligatured kāp and
wāw may resemble a final mêm; therefore, an unmindful scribe may read these letters on the Vorlage
and copy a final mêm on the writing line instead of the correct letter. The copying of an incorrect,
though similar-looking, letter sometimes creates a word that is meaningless or unintelligible. The
following three cases serve to demonstrate the phenomenon of a confused ligature.
20:6 ‫ נ ְַסנּו‬MT LXX | ‫ נסמך‬1QIsaª. It is probable, owing to the graphic similarities of ‫נסנו‬
and ‫( נסמך‬both forms begin with nûn and sāmek, plus a ligatured nûn and wāw share the
a Third International Symposium on the Hebrew of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Ben Sira, ed. Takamitsu Muraoka and John F.
Elwolde, STDJ 36 (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 97, 101.
appearance of a mêm), that the scribe simply misread or miscopied the verb that was in his
Vorlage.
40:20 ‫ יְ בַ ּקֶ ׁש־לֹו‬MT | ‫ ובשקלו‬1QIsaa. A 1QIsaa copyist wrote ‫ ובשקלו‬as one word (note the
qôp/lāmed ligature on the leather); he also transposed the letters šîn and qôp, creating ‫בשק‬
instead of ‫בקש‬, a simple mechanical error.
44:20 ‫ יַּצִ יל‬MT 4QIsab | ‫ יוכיל‬1QIsaa | δύναται ἐξελέσθαι LXX. Kutscher points out that the
deviation of ‫( יוכיל‬1QIsaa) is the result of a “graphical” error based on ‫ י‬+ ‫צ = כ‬.13 Perhaps
the scribe thought he was seeing a ligatured yôd-kāp and wrote ‫ יכיל‬instead of ‫יציל‬. But this
theory does not explain when or why the wāw was inserted into ‫יוכיל‬.
3.6. Letters or Words That Constitute a Dittogram

The error of dittography, which is found frequently throughout 1QIsaª, generally exists in the same
textual environment as the copyist’s writing line. Although the errors exist in 1QIsaª, such errors
do not certify the presence of a dittogram in the scroll. As mentioned previously, many factors
may explain deviations between MT and 1QIsaª. One example of this is found in 28:17 (‫ מַ חְ סֵ ה‬MT
| ‫ ממחסה‬1QIsaª), which may have three explanations for the deviation: MT reads ‫“( מַ חְ סֵ ה‬refuge,”
HALOT, 571), but 1QIsaª presents an extra mêm (‫)ממחסה‬. This deviation may be no more than (a) a
simple dittography of the mêm in 1QIsaª, (b) a haplography in MT, or (c) the extra mêm in the
scroll signifies the preposition min (thus reading ‫ממחסה‬, “from a refuge”). If this deviation is in fact
a varia lectio, then the scroll has altered the meaning of the passage with its reading of “And hail
will sweep lies from a refuge.”
(1) Dittography of an entire word, which is adjacent to the word the copyist is writing:
5:24 ‫ ַוחֲׁשַ ׁש לֶהׇ בׇ ה‬MT 4QIsab (‫להב ֯ה‬
֯ ‫ ואש לוהבת | )וחשש‬1QIsaª. The scribe erred by writing ‫אש ואש‬
in place of ‫( אש וחשש‬MT, 4QIsab), thus creating a dittogram.
12:2 ‫ אֵ ל‬MT | ‫ אל אל‬1QIsaa. Does the reading ‫ אל אל‬constitute a dittography in 1QIsaa or a
haplography in MT?
30:30 ‫ וְ הִ ְׁש ִמי ַע‬MT LXX | ‫ השמיע השמיע‬1QIsaa. 1QIsaa’s duplication of ‫ השמיע‬serves no
rhetorical purpose; rather, it is a dittography.
30:6 ‫ צׇ ׇרה‬MT LXX | ‫ צרה וציה‬1QIsaa. A dittography combined with graphic confusion of a
yôd and rêš: ‫ציה > צרה‬.
31:6 ‫ ַלאֲׁשֶ ר‬MT | ‫ לאשר לאשר‬1QIsaa.
34:15 ‫ אַ ְך‬MT | ‫ אכ אכ‬1QIsaa.
35:8 ‫ ׁשׇ ם‬MT | ‫ שמה שמה‬1QIsaa.
44:19 ‫ לֵאמֹ ר‬MT | ‫ לאמור לאמור‬1QIsaa | ὅτι LXX.
(2) Dittography of a word that appears at the end of one line and the beginning of the next line:
37:27 ‫ קמה‬MT 2 Kgs 19:27 LXX | ‫ קדימ קומכה‬1QIsaa. ‫( קדימ קומכה‬the final word of
v. 27 and the first word of v. 28) constitutes a dittography in 1QIsaa; or, is this a
haplography in MT?
13
Edward Y. Kutscher, The Language and Linguistic Background of the Isaiah Scroll (1QIsaa), STDJ 6 (Leiden: Brill,
1974), 242.
66:15 ‫ אַ ּפֹו‬MT LXX | ‫ אפו אפו‬1QIsaa. 1QIsaa’s first ‫ אפו‬appears at the end of the line and the
other at the beginning of the next line.
66:20 ‫ ּכׇל‬MT 1QIsab (‫ כֹול כול | )כ֯ [ל‬1QIsaa. 1QIsaa’s first ‫ כול‬appears at the end of the line and
the other at the beginning of the next line (see col. LIV, lines 9–10).
(3) Dittography of a letter within the same word:
28:20 ‫ וְ הַ ּמַ ּסֵ כׇה‬MT | ‫ והמסכסכה‬1QIsaª. Apparently a repetition of the letters sāmek and kāp, that
is, ‫מסכסכה‬.
33:1 ‫ ַּכה ֲִת ְמָך‬MT σ′ | ‫ כהתמכך‬1QIsaª | ἁλώσονται LXX. The duplication of the kāp at the end
of the word, that is, ‫כהתמכך‬, is a simple dittograph.
34:3 ‫ הׇ ִרים‬MT | ‫ ההרים‬1QIsaª. A dittography in 1QIsaª ( ‫ )ההרים‬or haplography in MT?
57:19 ‫ּבֹורא‬
ֵ MT 4QIsad (‫ בבורה | )בורה‬1QIsaa | > LXX. 1QIsaa’s bêt attached to the qal ptc.
‫ בבורה‬is unprecedented, plausibly the result of a dittography.
60:8 ‫ ְּתעּופֶינׇה‬MT 1QIsab (‫ תעופפנה | )תעפינה‬1QIsaª. The double pê (in ‫ )תעופפנה‬signifies a
dittography; or, 1QIsaª’s polel is a harmonization with three other polel verbal forms with
the same verbal root in Isaiah (6:2 ‫יְ עֹופֵף‬, 14:29 ‫מעֹופֵף‬,
ְ 30:6 ‫)מעֹופֵף‬.
ְ
66:11 ‫ ִמּזִיז‬MT 1QIsab | ‫ ממזוז‬1QIsaa | ἀπὸ εἰσόδου LXX. 1QIsaa has the double preposition ‫מן‬, ִ
in all probability a dittogram.
(4) A dittography prompted by the first letter of the following word (in the copyist’s Vorlage):
5:3 ‫ יֹוׁשֵ ב‬MT | ‫ יושבי‬1QIsaª LXX. Perhaps a dittography, that is, ‫יושבי ירושלם‬, but compare
LXX’s reading.
6:10 ‫ יִ ְׁשמׇ ע‬MT 4QIsaf σ′ Syr(vid) Vulg | ‫ ישמעו‬1QIsaª LXX Tg Vulgmss. A copyist created an
error by means of a dittogram, ‫ישמעו ובלבבו‬, but compare the versions.
7:20 ‫אֶ ת‬2 MT | ‫ אתה‬1QIsaª. 1QIsaª errs by creating a dittography, ‫אתה הזקן‬.
18:7 ‫ ּבׇ עֵת‬MT 4QIsab ( [‫ בעתה | )בע]ת‬1QIsaª. The preposition bêt is never attached to the
adverbial particle ‫ ;עתה‬an instance of a dittography, ‫בעתה ההיא‬.
21:6 ‫ יַּגִ יד‬MT LXX | ‫ ויגיד‬1QIsaª | ἀνάγγειλον LXX. A dittography, that is, ‫ויגיד וראה‬.
25:12 ‫ הֵ ׁשַ ח‬MT 4QIsac | ‫ השחה‬1QIsaa. (a) A possible dittography, that is, ‫( השחה השפיל‬but highly
improbable because the superscripted hê is secondary); (b) more likely, the scribe confused
‫ √ׁשחח‬with ‫ √ׁשחה‬and thus wrote ‫)ׁשחה√( השחה‬.
27:4 ‫ ׁשׇ ִמיר‬MT | ‫ שימיר‬1QIsaa | φυλάσσειν LXX. A simple dittography, that is, ‫שימיר ושית‬, but
subsequently corrected with cancellation dots above and below the first yôd of ‫שימיר‬.
42:5 ‫ יְ הוׇה‬MT | ‫ ̇האלוהים‬1QIsaa, that is, ‫האל האלוהים‬.
45:24 ‫ יׇבֹוא וְ יֵבׁשּו‬MT | ‫ יבואו יבושו‬1QIsaa MTmss. The difference between MT and 1QIsaa may be
a misplaced wāw: ‫ יבוא ויבושו‬or ‫ יבואו יבושו‬in either MT or the scroll.
49:7 ‫ לִ ְמתׇ עֵב‬MT | ‫ למתעבי‬1QIsaa, that is, ‫למתעבי גוי‬.
59:13 ‫ ּפׇׁשֹ ע‬MT | ‫ פשועו‬1QIsaª | ἠσεβήσαμεν LXX, that is, ‫פשועו וכחש‬, but later corrected to
read with a textual type similar to MT, that is, ‫פשוע‬.
60:18 ‫ וְ קׇ ׇראת‬MT 1QIsab | ‫ וקראתה‬1QIsaª, that is, ‫וקראתה הישועה‬.
(5) A dittography prompted by the previous word(s):
9:19[20] ‫ י̇ אכֵלּו‬MT 4QIsae Tg (‫ ויאכל | )יִ בְ זּון‬1QIsaª LXX (φάγεται γὰρ), that is, ‫זרועו ויאכל‬.
30:11 ‫ סּורּו‬MT 4QIsac σ′ Vulg | ‫ תסירו‬1QIsaª | καὶ ἀποστρέψατε ἡμᾶς LXX. A dittograph of
the tāw, that is, ‫;מתלות תסירו‬
33:10 ‫ אֶ ּנׇׂשֵ א‬MT | ‫ הנשא‬1QIsaª. A dittography, ‫עתה הנשא‬.

34:11 ‫ תֹ הּו‬MT | ‫ ותהו‬1QIsaª. The scribe of 1QIsaª created a dittograph, that is, ‫קו ותהו‬.
38:8 ‫בְ מַ עֲלֹות‬1 MT | ‫ במעלות עלית‬1QIsaa. ‫ עלית‬is the result of dittography, based on the multiple
attestations of √‫ עלה‬in the verse; or ‫ עלית‬dropped out of MT because of the multiple
attestations of √‫עלה‬.
38:16 ‫ רּוחִ י‬MT | ‫ רוחו‬1QIsaa, that is, ‫ ;חיו רוחו‬or, possibly an error of the graphically similar
wāw/yôd.
38:20 ‫הֹוׁשי ֵענִ י‬
ִ ְ‫ ל‬MT 1QIsab (‫ | )להשיעני‬+ ‫חי חי יודך כמוני היום אב לבנים יהודיע אלוה אמתך יהוה‬
‫ להושיעני‬1QIsaa | σωσον με σ′ Vulg Syr. A copyist created a dittography of a block of
words from v. 19; then, at a later stage a second copyist altered elements of the text
based on a second text type to create the orthographic and lectio variants that now exist
in v. 20.
45:24 ‫ לִ י אׇ מַ ר‬MT | ‫ ליא יאמר‬1QIsaa | λέγων LXX, that is, a misplaced yôd, that is, haplography
‫ לי אמר‬or dittography ‫לי יאמר‬.
46:10 ‫ אֶ עֱׂשֶ ה‬MT 1QIsab 4QIsac LXX | ‫ יעשה‬1QIsaa, that is, ‫חפצי יעשה‬.
51:23 > MT | + ‫ ומעניך‬1QIsaª. For example, because of the graphic similarity of the two
words ‫ מ–ניך( מוגיך ומעניך‬and ‫)מ–גיך‬, or possibly haplography in MT?
55:2 ‫ שמעו שמוע‬MT 1QIsab | ‫ שמעו שמעוא‬1QIsaa, that is, a dittography of the previous word,
with an ’ālep added at the end.
55:9 ‫גׇבְ הּו‬1 MT 1QIsab | ‫ כגובה‬1QIsaa | ὡς ἀπέχει LXX. That is, ‫כיא כגובה‬, or 1QIsaa has
facilitated the text (i.e., made the comparative explicit).
54:10 ‫ ְּתמּוטֶ נׇה‬MT | ‫ תתמוטינה‬1QIsaª, e.g., ‫והגבעות תתמוטינה‬.
62:5 ‫ יִ בְ עַל‬MT 1QIsab (‫ כבעול | )יבע[ל‬1QIsaª LXX, that is, ‫כיא כבעל‬, or, possibly a
haplography in MT?
(6) A dittography located two or more words away from the copyist’s writing word:
2:4 ‫ לְ ע ִַּמים‬MT LXX Syr Vulg | ‫ בין לעמים‬1QIsaª (pm) ‫ לְ גֹויִ ם | לעמים‬Mic 4:3. Duplication of ‫בין‬,
impacted by ‫ בין‬located three words earlier, but subsequently corrected.
17:12 ‫ יִ ּׁשׇ אּון‬. . . ‫ּוׁשאֹון‬
ְ MT | ‫ ושאון‬. . . ‫ ושאון‬1QIsaa. A dittography in 1QIsaa or wāw/yôd
confusion, writing ‫ ושאון‬for ‫?ישאון‬
31:4 ‫ל ֹא‬2 MT | ‫לוא יחת‬2 1QIsaª. The dittogram consists of ‫ לוא יחת‬. . . ‫ ;לוא יחת‬note that a
copyist subsequently crossed out the second ‫יחת‬.
48:8 ‫ ּכִ י יׇדַ עְ ִּתי‬MT | ‫ כיא ידעתי כיא‬1QIsaa. 1QIsaa’s second ‫ כיא‬is a dittograph; note that a scribe
subsequently wrote cancellation dots above the second ‫כיא‬.
61:4 ‫ וׇדֹור‬MT LXX | ‫יקוממו‬2 ‫ ודור‬1QIsaª. 1QIsaª repeats the same polel verb ‫ יקוממו‬in the
second line of the second bicolon, a dittogram of the first attestation of this verb.
64:1[2]‌‫ לְ צׇ ֶריָך‬MT | ‫לצריכה‬2 . . . ‫לצריכה‬1 1QIsaa. The second ‫ לצריכה‬may have dropped out of
MT, but more likely it appeared twice in 1QIsaa as a dittography.
(7) A word located in the line directly above the writing line (vertical dittography):
39:2 > MT LXX | ‫ כול‬1QIsaa 2 Kgs 20:13. Possibly vertical dittography, because ‫ את כול‬is
written exactly above the other (see plate XXXII, lines 17–18).
45:9 > MT LXX | ‫ אדם‬1QIsaa. Possibly a vertical dittography from ‫( אדמה‬see 1QIsaa col.
XXXVIII, lines 15–16).
3.7. Letters or Words That Constitute a Haplograph

In addition to containing instances of accidentally repeated letters, the Isaiah scroll contains a
handful of instances of haplography, which probably occurred when the scribe’s eyes moved back
and forth from the reading line of his Vorlage to the writing line of the manuscript; or, some
haplographs materialize when the scribe views words or letters in the line(s) above the writing line
of the working manuscript.
(1) This first example presents a vertical haplography:
59:21 ‫ אׇ מַ ר יְ הוׇה‬MT 1QIsab LXX (εἶπεν γὰρ κύριος) | > 1QIsaª. A possible case of vertical
haplography, where the copyist’s eyes read ‫ אמר יהוה‬on the first line (see 1QIsaª col. XLIX
line 4) and failed to write the expression on the line below (line 5).
(2) The following four instances are considered to be probable haplographies in 1QIsaª:
3:22 ‫ וְ הַ ִּמ ְטּפׇחֹות‬MT 4QIsab (‫טפ ̇ח ̇ת‬ ̇ ‫)ֹוהמ‬
̇ | > 1QIsaª. The plus in MT and 4QIsab may indicate a
dittogram, that is, ‫ ;והמעטפות והמטפחות‬or more likely the minus in 1QIsaª was caused by
haplography.
48:20 ‫ הֹוצִ יאּוהׇ‬MT 1QIsab (‫)הוצא[וה‬ ֯ 4QIsad LXX | > 1QIsaa. A haplography, owing to two
hipʿil verbs in close proximity, ‫ הוציאוה‬. . . ‫והשמיעו‬.
48:19 ‫ וְ צֶ אֱצׇ אֵ י מֵ עֶיָך‬MT LXX | ‫ וצאצאיכה‬1QIsaa. 1QIsaa erred when it dropped ‫ מעיכה‬via
haplography, ‫זרעכה וצאצאי מעיכה‬, or, possibly, by the repeated yôd, ‫וצאצאי מעיכה‬.
55:1 ‫ ִׁשבְ רּו ֶואֱכלּו ּולְ כּו ִׁשבְ רּו‬MT 4QIsac (‫;)[שב]ורו ואכלו ולכו שברו‬
֯ ἀγοράσατε καὶ πίετε LXX | ‫שבורו‬
1QIsaa. Possibly a haplograph in the scroll, precipitated by the word ‫שבורו‬, that is,
‫ שבורו‬. . . ‫שבורו‬.
(3) With regard to the following cases, scholars are divided as to whether they constitute a
haplography in 1QIsaa or a dittography in MT.
8:9 ‫ הִ ְתאַ ּזְרּו וׇחֹ ּתּו הִ ְתאַ ּזְרּו וׇחֹ ּתּו‬MT LXX γ′ | ‫ התאזרו וחותו‬1QIsaª 4QIsae(vid) (‫)התאז[רו‬. That is, the
twofold attestation of ‫ הִ ְתאַ ּזְרּו וׇחֹ ּתּו‬in MT.
26:6 ‫ ׇרגֶל ַרגְ לֵי‬MT | ‫ רגלי‬1QIsaa LXX (πόδες).
26:8 ‫ קִ ּוִ ינּוָך‬MT | ‫ קוינו‬1QIsaa LXX Tg Syr. The multiple attestation of this suffix (‫ )‑ך‬in this
verse (four times in MT; three times in the scroll) can account for the deviation, that is,
haplography in the scroll or dittography in MT.
32:10 ‫ ּבְ לִ י‬MT | ‫ בל‬1QIsaª. Although a haplography in 1QIsaª remains a possibility, a
dittography in MT (‫ )בלי יבוא‬is also conceivable.
37:29 ‫ ַיעַן הִ ְת ַר ֶּגזְָך אֵ לַי‬MT 2 Kgs 19:28 | > 1QIsaa. 1QIsaa lost ‫ יען התרגזך אלי‬through
haplography, triggered by the final word of the previous verse, that is, ‫ ;אלי יען התרגזך אלי‬or
MT possesses a dittography, ‫( וְ אֵ ת הִ ְת ַר ֶּגזְָך אֵ לׇי ַיעַן הִ ְת ַר ֶּגזְָך אֵ לַי‬see vv. 28–29).
38:11 ‫ יׇּה יׇּה‬MT | ‫ יה‬1QIsaa | ‫ יהוה‬MTmss | τὸ σωτήριον τοῦ θεοῦ LXX. An instance of a
dittography in MT; or, a haplography in 1QIsaa. ‫ יה יה‬may have originally read ‫יהוה‬.
52:6 ‫ ׇלכֵן‬2 MT | > 1QIsaª LXX. MT attests ‫ ׇלכֵן‬twice in this verse (separated by three words);
1QIsaª has it once.
59:13 ‫ הֹ רֹו וְ הֹ גֹו‬MT | ‫ והגוא‬1QIsaª | ἐκύομεν καὶ ἐμελετήσαμεν LXX. A haplography in 1QIsaª
as a consequence of graphic similarity, ‫ ?הרו והגו‬Or, a dittography in MT?
62:10 ‫ עִ בְ רּו עִ בְ רּו‬MT 1QIsab (‫)עב]רו֯ עברו‬ ֯ | ‫ עבורו‬1QIsaª LXX.
3.8. Assimilation of a Letter or Letters That Are in Proximity to the Copyist’s Writing
The final way (as far as this discussion goes) that the 1QIsaª copyist recurrently created errors in the
manuscript is by sometimes inadvertently assimilating a letter, letters, or words from the copyist’s
immediate environment (e.g., from the writing line, from the line or two above the writing line, or
from the Vorlage). The following examples are representative of the errors, but not comprehensive.
As is the case with all the errors mentioned previously, the explanation of errors below are not
definitive. There may be other reasons that explain the scroll’s reading.
5:5 ‫ וְ עַּתׇ ה‬MT LXX | ‫ ואתה‬1QIsaª. Was a copyist influenced by the forms ‫( אתכמה את‬thus,
‫ אתכמה את‬. . . ‫ )ואתה‬located three words away? Or, was the copyist impacted by the multiple
ʾāleps that begin the opening words of the verse (‫?)ואתה אודיע נא אתכמה אשר עושא‬
5:7 ‫ ִמ ְׂשּפׇח‬MT | ‫ למשפח‬1QIsaª. The copyist inadvertently added the superfluous preposition
lāmed to ‫משפח‬, an assimilation from the two prepositions in the wordplay.
5:18 ‫ הַ ּׁשׇ וְ א‬MT | ‫ השי‬1QIsaª. The scribe intended to write a wāw, but he accidentally copied
a yôd on the leather. Perhaps this error came about when his eyes saw the yôd, which
terminated the previous word (‫)בחבלי‬.
6:7 ‫אתָך‬ְ ‫ וְ חַ ּטׇ‬MT | ‫ וחטאותיך‬1QIsaª LXX. An assimilation of the plural form ‫ׂשפׇתֶ יָך‬,
ְ a word that is
located in the first bicolon of v. 7.
10:13 ‫ אׇ מַ ר‬MT LXX | ‫ יואמר‬1QIsaª. 1QIsaª’s imperfect verb perhaps originated by means of
assimilation from the imperfects of v. 12.
10:29 ‫ עׇבְ רּו‬MT | ‫ עבר‬1QIsaª. The scroll has assimilated ‫ עבר‬from v. 28, which refers to the king
of Assyria (compare other referents to the king in 10:12–13, 32). Verse 29 is concerned
with the king’s army, hence the pl. ‫עׇבְ רּו‬.
11:4 ‫ ּפִ יו‬MT | ‫ פיו יומת רשע‬1QIsaa. The scribe assimilated ‫ יומת רשע‬from the same expression
found three words later. The same or a subsequent scribe encircled the two words with
deletion dots.
16:6–7 ‫ ל ֹא־כֵן‬MT 1QIsab (‫ לכן | )[לא‬1QIsaa. The scroll’s ‫ לכן‬for ‫ לא כן‬may be impacted by
Aramaic, ‫ ל ֹא־כֵן‬is pronounced ‫ לׇא כֵן‬in Aramaic, hence ‫ ׇלכֵן‬. Or, the scribe accidentally wrote
‫לכן‬, an assimilation from ‫לכן‬, located two words away.
23:13 ‫ בְ חִ ינׇיו‬MTket | ‫ בחוניו‬MTqere | ‫ בחיניה‬1QIsaa. 1QIsaa’s hê, terminating ‫ הקימוה‬is an error;
perhaps the scribe inadvertently borrowed the hê of ‫הנה‬, ‫יסדה‬, ‫ארמנותיה‬, or ‫שמה‬, all located in
the vicinity of ‫הקימוה‬.
25:9 > MT LXX | ‫ יהוה‬1QIsaa. 1QIsaa adds ‫ יהוה‬before ‫אלוהינו‬, perhaps an assimilation of the
Divine Name, which appears later in the verse.
30:23 ‫ יִ ְרעֶה‬MT LXX | ‫ זׂרעה‬1QIsaª. The scroll’s reading is in error, either due to yôd/zayin
graphic similarity or impacted by ‫זרעך‬, which is located in the manuscript immediately
above the word under discussion (a case of a vertical appropriation; see col. XXV, line 5).
32:11 ‫ֲגֹורה‬ ‫ ַוח ׇ‬MT | ‫ חגרנה וספדנה‬1QIsaª | περιζώσασθε σάκκους LXX. For 1QIsaª’s odd reading,
did the scribe assimilate √‫ ספד‬from v. 12, as the scribe looked at his Vorlage?
33:21 ‫ ּתֵ לְֶך‬MT LXX | ‫ תלב‬1QIsaª. Perhaps 1QIsaª’s error (the added bêt) was caused by the
threefold repetition of the bêt in the environment of the word under discussion, that is, ‫בל‬
‫תלב בו‬.
35:9 ‫ ּבַ ל‬MT 4QIsab | ‫ בל לוא‬1QIsaa. The double negative in 1QIsaa (‫)בל לוא‬, unknown in the
HB, is the result of an error. The scribe first wrote ‫בל‬, which is the primary reading, and
then duplicated the ‫ לוא‬from v. 8, vertically located on the line above on the scroll (see col.
xxviii, line 25).
36:14 ‫ הַ ּמֶ לְֶך‬MT 2 Kgs 18:29 LXX | ‫ מלך אשור‬1QIsaa. Versus MT Isaiah and the parallel 2
Kgs 18:29, 1QIsaa has the explicatory (‫“ מלך אשור‬the king of Assyria”), an assimilation
(harmonization) from ‫ מלך אשור‬located three words earlier (in v. 13).
40:17 ‫ מֵ אֶ פֶס‬MT | ‫ וכאפס‬1QIsaa | καὶ εἰς οὐθὲν LXX. Scholars cannot agree on the primary
reading, but perhaps the scroll’s kāp is an assimilation from 41:12, which attests ‫ ;וכאפס‬or
the scribe assimilated the kāp from ‫כאין‬, located two words earlier.
41:7 ‫ אֹ מֵ ר‬MT 1QIsab ( ׂ‫)א[ומ]ר‬ ֯ | ‫ יואמר‬1QIsaa. 1QIsaa’s ‫ יואמר‬may be an assimilation of ‫ יואמר‬in
v. 6; or, 1QIsa ’s scribe added the preformative yôd to √‫ אמר‬to align it with the other verbs
a
in vv. 6–7 that have the same preformative, that is, ‫יעזורו‬, ‫יואמר‬, ‫ויחזק‬, ‫ויחזקהו‬, and ‫ימוט‬.
41:11 ‫ וְ י ֹאבְ דּו‬MT | ‫ יובדו כול‬1QIsaa | ‫ ויבשו‬1QIsab. 1QIsa’s deviation of ‫ יובדו כול‬likely originated
from ‫( ויכלמו כול‬imperfect plural verb), which occurs earlier in the verse, an assimilation; but
cf. LXX.
41:17 ‫ וְ הׇ אֶ בְ יֹונִ ים ְמבַ קְ ִׁשים‬MT LXX(vid) | ‫ האביונים המבקשים‬1QIsaa. 1QIsaa’s reading with the article
attached to the participle is unnecessary. This small plus may be an example of assimilation,
‫העניים האביונים המבקשים‬.
41:22 ‫ אַ ח ֲִריתׇ ן‬MT | ‫ או אחרונות‬1QIsaa. 1QIsaa’s plus of ‫ או‬is likely an instance of an assimilation
from the other ‫או‬.
42:11 ‫ יִ צְ וׇחּו‬MT | ‫ יצריחו‬1QIsaa LXX(vid). Did the scroll’s reading arise via assimilation from
the same verbal root that appears two verses later, in v. 13 (‫)יצריח‬, which the scribe viewed
in his Vorlage?
42:16 ‫ מַ חְ ׁשׇ ְך‬MT | ‫ מהשוכים‬1QIsaa. 1QIsaa deviates from MT’s reading with ‫מהשוכים‬, a confusion
of the letters hê/ḥêt. The plural of the scroll is an assimilation from the plural of ‫ומעקשים‬, the
corresponding term in this bicolon.
46:5 ‫ וְ תַ ְׁשוּו‬MT | ‫ ותשוי‬1QIsaa 1QIsab | ἴδετε LXX. The four words in close proximity to ‫ותשוי‬
that end in yôd, that is, ‫למי תדמיוני ותשוי ותמׁשלוני‬, may have impacted the scribe (for either
Qumran scroll).
48:7 ‫ ְׁשמַ עְ ּתׇ ם‬MT | ‫ שמעתים‬1QIsaa. With its reading of ‫שמעתים‬, the 1QIsaa scribe has inadvertently
assimilated the qal pf. first common sg. ending of ‫ידעתים‬, located four words away.
48:14 ‫ ּוׁשֲ מׇ עּו‬. . . ‫ הִ ּקׇ בְ צּו‬MT | ‫ וישמעו‬. . . ‫ יקבצו‬1QIsaa. 1QIsaa’s impf. verbs ‫ וישמעו‬. . . ‫ יקבצו‬may
signify an assimilation of the impf. ‫ ויעמודו‬that is located two words earlier (see v. 13).
49:18 ‫ ְׂש ִאי‬MT | ‫ סאי‬1QIsaa. 1QIsaa’s ‫ סאי‬is an error of homophony, or the copyist was influence
by the sāmek in the following word, that is, ‫סאי סביב‬.
63:2 ‫ ּבְ גַת‬MT 1QIsab LXX | ‫ בגד‬1QIsaa. 1QIsaa’s error may have occurred (a) when the scribe
borrowed ‫ בגד‬from ‫ובגדיך‬, located two words away (see also ‫בגדים‬, located in the previous
verse); or (b) a scribe changed the tāw to dālet because “the voiced dālet at the end of a
word sounded the same as a voiceless taw.”14
14
Kutscher, Language and Linguistic Background, 227.
4. CONCLUSION
As this essay has illustrated, ancient Hebrew copyists faced many challenges while copying text
from their Vorlages to their new leather sheets. These challenges included difficult-to-read book
hands, unreadable letters and words, graphically similar characters, and other difficulties. Indeed,
the ancient master copies were decidedly unlike the Masoretic Text as we have it now in the form
of Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia, with its consonantal and vocalization framework, and with its
system of notes, accents, and versification. Additionally, the copyists’ Vorlages may have contained
interlinear or marginal corrections, scribal marks and notations, a different paragraphing system,
and special morphological and orthographic features.
Because of these many factors, and perhaps owing to the 1QIsaa copyist’s inexperience, laxity,
or carelessness, he created a number of contextual errors in his manuscript. These included (as
described previously in this essay) instances of dittography, haplography, and misdivision of letters
or words; additionally, there are errors pertaining to graphically similar letters, interchanges of
letters, syntactical variations, confusions of the Vorlage’s ligatures, and the assimilation of a letter
or letters that were in proximity to the copyist’s writing.
Throughout this chapter, I make numerous statements that a copyist of 1QIsaa made the errors
listed above and other possible changes to Isaiah’s text. However, I am fully aware that the copyist
may have copied those errors from the Vorlage or from another text or source that already contained
the error. We do not always know who made the correction in the text—first copyist, second
copyist, or even perhaps a common reader made a correction. As Tov explains, “Upon completing
the copying, and often while still in the process, scribes frequently intervened in the text; by the
same token, correctors and users often inserted their corrections in the text.”15
In conclusion, this essay clearly illustrates that many categories of deviations exist due to the
scribal activity of one or multiple witnesses through a long historical timeframe. Most scribal errors
may be categorized according to the rules of textual criticism, and this chapter demonstrates that
a single category of deviation does not dominate the contextual deviations between MT Isaiah
and 1QIsaa. Future studies may garner additional insights regarding categories of error in ancient
Hebrew texts and enable us to better understand the transmission of ancient scripture.
5. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Barrera, Julio T. The Jewish Bible and the Christian Bible. Translated by W. G. E. Watson. Leiden: Brill, 1998.
Fassberg, Steven E. “The Syntax of the Biblical Documents from the Judean Desert as Reflected in a
Comparison of Multiple Copies of Biblical Texts.” Pages 94–109 in Diggers at the Well: Proceedings of a
Third International Symposium on the Hebrew of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Ben Sira. Edited by Takamitsu
Muraoka and John F. Elwolde. STDJ 36. Leiden: Brill, 2000.
Ginsburg, Christian D. Introduction to the Massoretico-Critical Edition of the Hebrew Bible.
New York: Ktav, 1966.
Horgan, Maurya P. Pesharim: Qumran Interpretation of Biblical Books. CBQMS 8. Washington, DC: Catholic
Biblical Association of America, 1979.
Kutscher, Edward Y. A History of the Hebrew Language. Jerusalem: Magnes, 1982.
15
Tov, Scribal Practices, 222.
Kutscher, Edward Y. The Language and Linguistic Background of the Isaiah Scroll (1QIsaa). STDJ
Muraoka, Takamitsu. “Isaiah Scroll (iQIsaa).” In Encyclopedia of Hebrew Language and Linguistics. Edited by
Geoffrey Khan. Leiden: Brill, 2013.
Parry, Donald W. Exploring the Isaiah Scrolls and Their Textual Variants. STHB 3. Leiden: Brill, 2020.
Parry, Donald W., and Elisha Qimron, The Great Isaiah Scroll (1QIsaa): A New Edition. STDJ 32.
Qimron, Elisha. Hebrew of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1986.
Qimron, Elisha. A Grammar of the Hebrew of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Jerusalem: Yad Yizhak Ben-Zvi, 2018.
Reymond, Eric D. Qumran Hebrew: An Overview of Orthography, Phonology, and Morphology. Atlanta,
GA: SBL, 2014.
Talmon, Shemaryahu. “Textual Study of the Bible: A New Outlook.” Pages 321–400 in Qumran and the History
of the Biblical Text. Edited by Frank Moore Cross and Shemaryahu Talmon. Cambridge, MA: Harvard
Tov, Emanuel. Scribal Practices and Approaches Reflected in the Texts Found in the Judean Desert. STDJ 54.
Tov, Emanuel. Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible. 3rd ed. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2012.
Ulrich, Eugene C., Martin G. Abegg, Jr., and Peter W. Flint, eds. Qumran Cave 1.II: The Isaiah Scrolls.
Part 1: Plates and Transcriptions; Part 2: Introductions, Commentary, and Textual Variants. DJD 32.
Weingreen, Jacob. Introduction to the Critical Study of the Text of the Hebrew Bible. Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1982.
Würthwein, Ernst. The Text of the Old Testament. Translated by Erroll F. Rhodes. Grand Rapids,
MI: Eerdmans, 1995.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Psalmenhandschriften in den
Qumrantexten
HERMANN LICHTENBERGER
1. VORBEMERKUNG
Ja du wirst auch dich selbs drinnen

und das rechte Gnotiseauton finden
Da zu Gott selbs und alle Creaturn.
M. Luther, Vorrede auff den Psalter, 15451
In der Weltliteratur vielleicht einmalig oder nur mit wenigem vergleichbar ist dieser Schatz von 150
Psalmen, Gebeten und Liedern der alttestamentlich-jüdischen Tradition, der auch in die christliche
eingegangen ist.
Es ist eine Sammlung, der schon frühere und kleinere Sammlungen zugrunde lagen. Die
Psalmenüberschriften bzw. -zuschreibungen machen einige kenntlich: Davidpsalmen, Asaphpsalmen,
Korachpsalmen, Wallfahrtspsalmen und andere. Schon in der Psalmenforschung des 19. Jh.s ist bewusst
geworden, dass diese Teilsammlungen je ihr eigenes Gepräge haben, aber erst in den letzten Jahrzehnten
fragte man intensiver danach, in welcher Weise und mit welcher Absicht diese Teilsammlungen zum
Psalter der 150 Psalmen unserer hebräischen Bibel vereinigt wurden als ein theologisch und literarisch
kunstvolles Gebilde, dessen Architektur wir nur langsam und nach und nach verstehen.
2. PSALMENHANDSCHRIFTEN IN DEN QUMRANTEXTEN

2.1. Hinführung zu „biblischen“ Psalmenhandschriften
Mit den Funden am Toten Meer (Qumran) von 1947 bis 1956 hat sich unsere Vorstellung dessen,
was jüdische Literatur der biblischen und nachbiblischen Zeit ist, grundlegend verändert. Ich kann
das hier nicht im Einzelnen ausführen und will mich auf die Psalmen beschränken. Unter den ca.
1000 Handschriften (HSS) von Qumran befinden sich 174 sichere und ca. 35 unsichere „biblische“
Handschriften,2 und darunter 36 (+2 Masada, + 1 Hev) der Psalmen.3 Nun ist diese Zahl insofern
1
Biblia: Das ist: Die gantze Heilige Schrifft Deutsch Auffs new zugericht. D. Mart. Luth. Begnadet mit Kurfürstlicher
zu Sachsen Freiheit. Gedruckt zu Witte mberg Durch Hans Lufft. MDXLV (Nachdruck Stuttgart: Württembergische
Bibelanstalt, 1967).
2
Armin Lange, Handbuch der Textfunde vom Toten Meer I (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009), 16–17.
3
Lange, Handbuch, 373.
ungenau, als sie nur jene HSS zählt, die „biblische“ Psalmen enthalten. Daneben gibt es Sammlungen,
oft in verschiedenen HSS vertreten, die ausschließlich „nichtbiblische“ Psalmen überliefern.
Eine Vorbemerkung zu „nichtbiblisch“ ist notwendig. „Nichtbiblisch“ ist ungenau, denn gemeint
ist „nichtmasoretisch“. Die Fassung des Psalters, wie er uns in der Hebräischen Bibel heute vorliegt,
stammt nach Umfang und Konsonatenbestand aus vorchristlicher Zeit („protomasoretischer
Psalter“), hat aber seinen gültigen Vokalbestand, d.h. das festgelegte Verständnis, erst später,
im frühen MA, erhalten. Voraus gehen unterschiedliche Verständnisformen, wie sie uns z.B. in
der Übersetzung der LXX begegnen, die einen unvokalisierten hebräischen Text voraussetzen,
und entsprechend vom später festgesetzten Wortlaut differieren können. Daneben gibt es zwei
grundlegend verschiedene Arten von Psalmenhandschriften: Die eine—und ihr werden wir uns
besonders zuwenden—kombiniert „biblische“ und nichtbiblische Psalmen wie 11QPsa, andere
Sammlungen und Handschriften enthalten nur bisher unbekannte Psalmen.
Ein Sonderfall besteht darin, dass anderwärts bekannte Psalmen in HSS aus Qumran
auftauchen: Dies gilt für Ps 151 der LXX (und der Syrischen Psalmen) und zweier weiterer Syrischer
Psalmen, die ebenfalls in der HS 11QPsa erhalten sind; für 11QPsa trifft dies auch auf Sir 51:13–20
[…] 30 sowie 2 Sam 23:[1–7a]7b (letzte Worte Davids) zu.
Die Präsenz der „biblischen“ Psalmen bezeugen auch die Psalmenzitate. Allein in den
Qumrantexten finden sich (ca.) 233 Psalmenzitate, die eine Bandbreite von Anspielung bis zur
vollen Zitation eines ganzen Psalms haben, wie Ps 91 in 11Q11 vi 3–13 (11QPsapoc) und Ps 122
in 4Q522 22–26, 1–6 (apocr Joshc); nicht eigens gezählt sind Zitationen bestimmter Psalmverse in
mehreren Handschriften.4
Eine Besonderheit stellen Psalmenkommentare dar, die nach Zitat („Lemma“) des entsprechenden
Verses eine Auslegung folgen lassen. Dieser Kommentar ist auf die eschatologisch gedeutete
Gegenwart der Gemeinde (‫ )יחד‬bezogen, bietet also eine gegenwärtig eschatologische Realisation
eines Psalmverses.
● 4Q171: Ps 37:7–40; 45:1–2; 60:8–9 (108:8–9)
● 4Q173: Ps 127:2–3, 3b, 5; 129:7–8; 118 (?)
● 4Q174: 1–2 i 18–19 Zitat und Auslegung von Ps 2:1
2.2. Übersicht über „nichtbiblische“ Psalmenhandschriften

In einer knappen Darstellung sollen Sammlungen der bisher unbekannten Psalmen genannt werden:
An erster Stelle sind die Hodayot zu nennen, und nicht nur wegen ihres frühesten Bekanntwerdens
als Liedersammlung, sondern auch wegen ihres einzigartigen dichterischen und theologischen
Charakters. An dieser Stelle ist insbesondere Hartmut Stegemann zu nennen, auf den die
maßgebliche Edition zurückgeht.5
4
Armin Lange und Matthias Weigold, Biblical Quotations and Allusions in Second Temple Literature (JAJSup 5;
Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2011), 163–78.
5
Hartmut Stegemann, Eileen Schuller und Carol Newsom, 1QHodayota (DJD 40; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009);
siehe James H. Charlesworth, The Qumran Psalter ‫לאל הדעות ברכות‬. The Thanksgiving Hymns among the Dead Sea Scrolls
(Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2014) und Ulrich Dahmen, Die Loblieder (Hodayot) aus Qumran. Hebräisch mit masoretischer
Punktation und deutscher Übersetzung, Einführung und Anmerkungen (Stuttgart: Verlag W. Kohlhammer, 2019).
Psalmenhandschriften in den Qumrantexten 405
● 1QHa undb und die sechs 4Q-HSS 4Q427-432: nach Stegemann6 ca. 35 Lieder.
● 1QS Schlusspsalm und 4Q-HSS: eigentlich eine Anweisung an den Maskil (column 9?
1QS ix 12, 21), die in eine Gebetsanweisung ix 26 über Gebetszeiten übergeht und ab x
6 zu Ichrede wechselt. Dabei werden wieder, nun in Ichrede, Gebetszeiten genannt: Den
Niedrigkeitsdoxologien von 1QH vergleichbare Aussagen werden gemacht. Der Einsatz
eines neuen Liedes könnte in xi 15 gegeben sein („Gepriesen bist du, mein Gott,“
‫)ברוך אתה אלי‬, so dass wir in dem Schlusspsalm der HS 1QS wohl zwei Psalmen/Lieder
vorliegen haben.
● Psalmen in Kriegsregel (nach 1QM): x 8–xii 5 (oder bis xii 18); bzw. xii 7–18 eigener
Psalm; xiii 7–18; xiv 4–15 (oder bis 18) bzw. eigener Psalm xiv 16–18; xviii 6–xix 8.: d.h.
fünf bis sieben Psalmen.
● 4Q380 und 381: mindestens zehn Psalmen.
● 4Q400-407/11Q17/Mas1k Sabbatopferlieder: 13 Lieder.
● 4Q504-506 ‫דברי המארות‬: sieben Lieder je für die Tage der Woche.
● 4Q434-438 ‫ברכי נפשי‬: mindestens fünf Psalmen.
● 4Q448-454 Apocryphal Psalm: Reste von mindestens fünf Psalmen.
● 4Q456-457b: Reste von mindestens drei Psalmen.
● 4Q460 Gebet: ein Psalm.
● 4Q481c: Prayer for Mercy.
● 4Q505 frag. 125: Prayer for the Night.
● 4Q510-511: Songs of the Sage: Reste von zehn(?) Psalmen.
● Prayers for Festivals: 1Q34 und 34bis und 4Q507-509: geschätzt wohl Reste von ca. 30
Psalmen (Neumonde, Festtage; siehe 11Q5: David’s Compositions).
● Tägliche Gebete 4Q503: Abend- und Morgengebete für jeden Tag eines Monats: Reste von
58 Gebeten.
Diese Übersicht ist nicht vollständig, erfasst aber im Wesentlichen den erhaltenen Bestand, der
z.T. sehr fragmentarisch ist. Zusammen mit den zehn „außerkanonischen“ Texten von 11Q5
(11QPsa) und 11Q6 (11QPsb) sowie 4Q88 (4QPsf) kommen wir auf ca.196, d.h. rund 200 Psalmen
über den MT-Bestand hinaus. Dies ausreichend zu würdigen, ist auf die Kürze unmöglich. Darum
nur wenige Hinweise. Zunächst ist einzuschränken, dass die meisten dieser ca. 200 Psalmen nicht
vollständig vorliegen. Vielfach sind es nur Fragmente, die uns zu dieser Zahl bringen. Das ist die
eine Seite. Die andere ist, dass wir angesichts des fragmentarischen Charakters des Erhaltenen
davon ausgehen müssen, dass uns—ich glaube nicht zu übertreiben—das Meiste verloren gegangen
ist. Auch wenn wir nur von dem Erhaltenen ausgehen, so finden wir eine unglaubliche theologische
6
Hartmut Stegemann, Die Essener, Qumran, Johannes der Täufer und Jesus (Freiburg: Herder, 1993), 151.
und literarische Produktivität in den Jahrhunderten um die Zeitenwende, und zwar nicht nur im
Genre der Psalmen. Die 150 biblischen Psalmen sind in jedem Fall nur ein kleiner Teil dessen,
was in Judäa seit der Perserzeit an Psalmendichtung entstanden ist. Wer diese späte(re) Dichtung
verfolgt, erkennt, in welchem Maße sie auf der vorhergehenden, meist „biblischen,“ Dichtung
beruht. Gewiss hat sie unterschiedliches Niveau. In einem Text wie 11QPsa “Hymn to the Creator”
begegnen wir fast nur „vorgefertigter“ Sprache, in den sog. Lehrerliedern der Hodayot in Aufnahme
vorgegebener Terminologie eigener dichterischer Innovation. So kann die Bindung an „biblische
Sprache“ ganz unterschiedlich ausfallen.
Diese ist, so kann abschließend konstatiert werden, in einer Weise bestimmend, die vielleicht nur
mit dem Einfluss von Luthers Bibelübersetzung aufs Deutsche verglichen werden kann. Zudem muss
bedacht werden, dass das Hebräische nicht mehr alltägliche Umgangssprache war, aber, wie wir
gerade der fast vollständigen literarischen Dominanz des Hebräischen gegenüber dem Aramäischen
vor allem in poetischen Texten entnehmen können, auch aktiv lebendig war. Die Produktion derart
vieler hebräischer Texte bliebe sonst unerklärlich.
2.3. „Biblische“ Psalmenhandschriften7

Erhalten sind 39 HSS aus der Wüste Juda, davon 36 aus Qumran. Von den 5 HSS aus den Höhlen
1-3 sind nur wenige Reste erhalten. Die Hauptmenge der HSS stammt aus Höhle 4.
Bei den „biblischen“ Psalmenhandschriften lassen sich drei Kategorien unterscheiden:
(a) Sammlungen von „Bibelpsaltern,“ d.h. Sammlungen von Psalmen entsprechend MT
(“protomasoretischer Psalter”)8
(b) Psalmenhandschriften mit von MT abweichender Textfolge9: 10 HSS
(4Q83.84.86.87.88.92.95.98; 11Q5.6)
(c) Psalmenhandschriften, die Texte enthalten, die nicht in MT vorhanden sind: 8 bzw. nach
Flint: 9 (1Q16; 4Q88.171.173.173 fragm. 5.522;11Q5.6.11)
Von den 36 HSS aus Qumran (+2 Masada, + 1 Hev) weichen 12 in Textfolge und/oder Umfang
von MT ab. Dabei gibt es in den Abweichungen Übereinstimmungen einzelner HSS untereinander
wie im Fall von 11QPsa (11Q5), 11QPsb (11Q6) und 4QPse (4Q87). Einzelne Psalmenhandschriften
enthalten nur einzelne Psalmen (wie 11Q11: Ps 91; 5QPs: Ps 119) oder Teile des Psalters (wie 11Q5).
Diese 3 Gruppen stehen noch im 1. Jh. n.Chr. nebeneinander, kanonische Geltung im strengen
Sinn kann keine beanspruchen, auch wenn sich das Pendel zu MT hin neigt, der ja auch im
Wesentlichen zur Grundlage der Übersetzung der LXX wurde. Vor der Tempelzerstörung gibt
es keinen standardisierten Text und schon gar nicht im 2. Jh. v.Chr., als die Psalmensammlungen
entstehen. Wir können also mit Lange10 von „mehreren Psalmensammlungen“ in den Qumrantexten
7
Siehe mit Literatur Lange, Handbuch, 373–450; und Peter W. Flint, “Psalms Scrolls from the Judaean Desert,” in The Dead
Sea Scrolls. Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek Texts with English Translations, vol. 4A, Pseudepigraphic and Non-Masoretic Psalms
and Prayers (J.H. Charlesworth, Hg.; PTSDSSP; Tübingen/Louisville, KY: Mohr Siebeck/John Knox, 1997), 287–90.
8
Siehe Lange, Handbuch, 373–450.
9
Flint, Psalms Scrolls, 287–9.
10
Lange, Handbuch, 416.
sprechen. Eine Gegenüberstellung von „kanonischem“ und „liturgischem“ Text kann die
Problematik nicht lösen, da alle Psalmensammlungen liturgischen Charakter haben und sich durch
den Gebrauch und die Akzeptanz Prioritäten bilden, die dann in eine kanonische Verbindlichkeit
übergehen können.
Von den 150 MT-Psalmen sind 126 in Psalmen-HSS bzw. anderen relevanten Texten wie
Pesharim (Kommentare) bezeugt.11 Die fehlenden 24 Psalmen sind mit größter Sicherheit ebenfalls
vertreten gewesen, aber durch Textverlust nicht erhalten. Vom 4. und 5. Teil des Psalters (Ps 90-150)
fehlen lediglich fünf Psalmen (Ps 90.108?.110.111.117).12 In fünf HSS (11Q5; 4Q88; 4Q522;
11Q6; 11Q11) sind insgesamt 15 nicht dem MT-Psalter zugehörige Texte erhalten, von denen
neun bisher unbekannt waren (Apostrophe to Judah; Apostrophe to Zion; David’s Compositions;
Eschatological Hymn; Hymn to the Creator; Plea for Deliverance; Ps 1-3 von 11Q11 [apocrPs]).13
Die handschriftliche Überlieferung reicht vom 2. Jh. v.Chr. bis zur Mitte des 1. Jh.s n.Chr.
Das hat wichtige Implikationen für die Entstehung der Psalmensammlungen. Nun bieten die
Datierungen der HSS noch keine Aussage über die Entstehung der „Vorlage,“ d.h. einer bestimmten
Sammlung, sie geben aber einen Anhaltspunkt für den spätesten Entstehungszeitpunkt. So weist
eine der beiden ältesten HSS aus dem 2. Jh. v.Chr., 4Q83, eine von MT abweichende Textfolge auf.
Dies mag nicht unbedingt erstaunen, ist es in dieser frühen Zeit doch durchaus verständlich, dass
von MT verschiedene Sammlungen im Umlauf sind. Erstaunen aber muss die Tatsache erwecken,
dass auch in der 1. Hälfte und der Mitte des 1. Jh.s n.Chr. von MT in Reihenfolge und Textbestand
abweichende Fassungen kopiert wurden—prominentestes Zeugnis ist 11QPsa.
Dies führt zu Überlegungen, auf die wir später im Einzelnen eingehen werden. Soviel sei
hier angedeutet: Wir haben in den beiden Jahrhunderten vor und im Jahrhundert nach der
Zeitenwende neben dem MT-(genauer protomasoretischer) Psalter mit mindestens einer weiteren
Psalmensammlung zu rechnen, vertreten durch 11Q5 (11QPsa) und 6 (11QPsb) (und 4Q87
[4QPse]). Daneben konnten kleinere Sammlungen entstehen wie 11Q11 (11apocrPs), das drei
nichtmasoretische und einen masoretischen Psalm (Ps 91) in eigener Gestalt vereinigt. Soviel lässt
sich aber bereits hier erkennen, dass die auf den MT-Psalter hinauslaufende Sammlung bereits um
die Zeitenwende eine Dominanz entfaltet, die ihn zum maßgeblichen Psalter werden lässt.
3. DIE THEOLOGISCHE AUSRICHTUNG VERSCHIEDENER

PSALMENSAMMLUNGEN (“PSALTER”)
3.1. Vorbemerkung: Zur theologischen Ausrichtung des masoretischen Psalters
In der jüngeren Psalmenforschung gibt es einen bedeutenden Wandel von der Exegese der
Einzelpsalmen hin zur Frage nach dem Werden und der Bedeutung des biblischen Psalmbuches, des
Psalters, oder mit den Worten Erich Zengers, Matthias Millards Programm „Von der Psalmenexegese
zur Psalterexegese“14 variierend, „Psalmenexegese und Psalterexegese“.15 Dieser Aufgabe haben
11
Flint, Psalms Scrolls, 287.
12
Ibid.
13
Ibid.
14
M. Millard, “Von der Psalmenexegese zur Psalterexegese,” in: Biblical Interpretation 4 (1996), 311–28.
15
Erich Zenger, „Psalmenexegese und Psalterexegese. Eine Forschungsskizze,“ in The Composition of the Book of Psalms
(Erich Zenger, Hg.; BETL 238; Leuven: Peeters, 2010), 17–65 (24); dort in Anm. 19 mit ausführlicher Bibliographie;
sich in besonderer Weise Erich Zenger und Frank-Lothar Hossfeld16 sowie Bernd Janowski17 und
Friedhelm Hartenstein18 gestellt. Programmatisch Erich Zenger: „Die neuere Psalterexegese will
den Psalter als Buchkomposition und dementsprechend die Einzelpsalmen in ihrem jeweiligen
Textzusammenhang lesen.“19 Dabei werden einerseits die Einzelsammlungen (Davidpsalmen,
Asafpsalmen, Korachiterpsalmen, Wallfahrtspsalmen) in ihrer jeweiligen Struktur und theologischen
Intention erfasst, andererseits in ihrer Funktion im Gesamtgebäude des biblischen Psalters als eines
theologischen Gesamtkunstwerks. Von besonderem Interesse im Blick auf Psalmensammlungen in
Qumran sind die Davidpsalter (I Ps 3-41; II Ps 51-72; III Ps 101-103; IV Ps 108-110; V Ps 138-
145). Es ist hier nicht der Ort, die reichen Ergebnisse der biblischen Psalterexegese darzustellen, es
sei lediglich verwiesen auf den genannten Sammelband Erich Zengers von 2010 mit 45 Beiträgen.20
3.2. Die theologische Ausrichtung von 11QPsa21
3.2.1. Hinführung
In der Handschrift 11QPsa folgt auf 150:1–6 (MT-Zählung) xxvi 2–8 der Schöpfungshymnus
“Hymn to the Creator” xxvi 9–16 (nur bis Zeile 15 erhalten). Ihm schließen sich die „Letzten
Worte Davids“ 2 Sam 23:1–7 an, die xxvii 1 enden. In xxvii 2–11 “David’s Compositions” wird
David zunächst als Weiser, Frommer und mit göttlichem Geist Begabter geschildert, dann wird eine
Aufstellung der von ihm gedichteten Psalmen (‫ )תהילים‬und Lieder (‫ )שיר‬gegeben, wobei die Lieder
eindeutig dem Tempelkult zugeordnet sind. Die durch die „Letzten Worte Davids“ verbundenen
Texte des Schöpfungshymnus und der für den Tempelkult gedichteten Lieder Davids erschließen
sich gegenseitig.22 Den Zusammenhang zwischen Schöpfung und (kultischem) Heilshandeln Gottes
am Menschen in 11QPsa herauszuarbeiten, wäre ein reizvolles und lohnendes Unterfangen, dabei
würde vor allem die Gestalt Davids eine wichtige Rolle spielen.23 Hier soll eine andere Verknüpfung
vgl. den Beitrag von Bernd Janowski, „Ein Tempel aus Worten. Zur theologischen Architektur des Psalters,“ in Zenger,
Composition, 279–306, Nachdruck in Zenger, Der nahe und der ferne Gott. Beiträge zur Theologie des Alten Testaments 5
(Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlagsgesellschaft, 2014), 287–314; einen guten Überblick geben Erich Zenger und Frank-L.
Hossfeld, „Das Buch der Psalmen,“ in Einleitung in das Alte Testament (E. Zenger, Hg.; Kohlhammer Studienbücher
Theologie 1,1; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 81995), 428–52.
16
Siehe Christoph Dohmen und Thomas Hieke, Hg., Frank-Lothar Hossfeld, Erich Zenger „Neigt euer Ohr den Worten
meines Mundes“ (Ps 78,1). Studien zu Psalmen und Psalter (Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 2015).
17
Janowski, Tempel, 279–306.
18
Friedhelm Hartenstein, „‚Schaffe mir Recht, JHWH!‘ (Ps 7,9): Zum theologischen und anthropologischen Profil der
Teilkomposition Psalm 3-14,“ in: Zenger, Composition, 229–58.
19
Zenger, Psalmenexegese, 29.
20
Zenger, Composition.
21
Ausführlicher habe ich mich damit in der Festschrift für Bernd Janowski befasst: Alexandra Grund, Annette Krüger und
Florian Lippke, Hg., Ich will dir danken unter den Völkern. Studien zur israelitischen und altorientalischen Gebetsliteratur.
Festschrift für Bernd Janowski zum 70. Geburtstag (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2013), 645–57: „Die
Jerusalemorientierung von 11QPsa.“ Siehe weiter Christoph A. Gasser, Apokryphe Psalmen aus Qumran. Ihr Beitrag zur
Frage nach dem Kanon (Zürich: Theologischer Verlag Zürich, 2010).
22
Siehe dazu Bernd Janowski in Friedhelm Hartenstein und Bernd Janowski, Psalmen (BK XV/1; Neukirchen: Neukirchener
Verlagsgesellschaft, 2012), 46: „Was die Schaffung von Zusammenhängen zwischen benachbarten Psalmen angeht, so kommt
es durch die Nebeneinanderstellung (iuxtapositio) und die Verkettung (concatenatio) zu einer Überlagerung der Bilder und
Motive.“
23
Ansätze dazu bei Ulrich Dahmen, Psalmen- und Psalter-Rezeption im Frühjudentum. Rekonstruktion, Textbestand, Struktur
und Pragmatik der Psalmenrolle 11QPsa aus Qumran (STDJ 49; Leiden/Boston, MA: Brill, 2003).
untersucht werden, nämlich die schon lange beobachtete „Davidisierung“24 in 11QPsa mit einer,
wie mir scheint, zu wenig beachteten „Jerusalemorientierung.“
3.2.2. Die „Davidisierung“ des Psalters

Die Psalmenhandschrift 11QPsa25 trägt im Vergleich zu MT eine deutlich stärkere Ausrichtung
auf David. Diese „Davidisierung“26 wurde vielfältig beschrieben und wird von Armin Lange27
zusammengefasst und weitergeführt. Dabei spielen die “Letzten Worte Davids” (2 Sam 23:1–7; davon
erhalten in 11QPsa xxvii 1 der Schluss von V. 7) und “David’s Compositions” direkt im Anschluss
daran in 11QPsa xxvii 2–11 eine zentrale Rolle. Die Geistgewirktheit des Redens Davids von 2 Sam
23:2 wird in diesem Text in Z. 2-4 und 11 ausdrücklich aufgenommen. Der direkt anschließende
Psalm 140 ist ein Davidpsalm (140:1; 11QPsa xxvii 12), vom folgenden Ps 134 (in 11QPsa xxviii
1–2) sind Teile von Vers 1 und die Verse 2 und 3 erhalten, nicht aber eine Zuschreibung. Die Psalmen
151A und B (11QPsa xxviii 3–12 und 13–14), die die letzte beschriebene Kolumne der Handschrift
ausmachen, sind wieder Davidpsalmen. Ps 151 A und B führen die in MT ansatzweise vorhandene
Biographisierung der Davidpsalmen (vgl. Ps 51 u.ö.) weiter. 11QPsa bietet eine Zuschreibung an David
gegenüber MT in Ps 123:1 (11QPsa iii 15). Als zentralen Gedanken des Abschlusses der Handschrift
stellt Lange28 den davidischen Bund und dessen Schutz durch Gott heraus. Der Gottesbund mit David
realisiert sich aber nicht in der politischen Herrschaft, sondern in der geistgewirkten davidischen
Dichtung. Nach “David’s Compositions” ist sie mit insgesamt 4050 Dichtungen allumfassend.
Dies ist nur ein Aspekt der Davidisierung. Die Verbindungen von Ps 51 zu 11QPsa xix (“Plea
for Deliverance”; siehe Ps 51:4 und 11QPsa xix 13) lassen David als den Prototyp des Sünders, der
Erbarmen erlangt hat, erscheinen. Dies hat Bezüge zum Davidbild von Sir 47:11, worauf Martin
Kleer m.R. hingewiesen hat.29
Die Davidisierung besteht also darin: Das Bild des idealen Königs wird abgelöst durch das Bild
des geisterfüllten Poeten. Dieses wird überformt durch das des Vergebung erlangenden Sünders.
Ist sich die Forschung in dieser “Davidisierung” des Psalters—und im Blick auf 11QPsa konkret
des vierten und fünften Buches des Psalters—grundsätzlich einig, so bleibt m.R. strittig, ob das
24
Zu diesem Begriff siehe Zenger, Psalter als Buch, 40–1.
25
Die Kolumnen- und Zeilenzählung folgt entgegen der Rekonstruktion von Dahmen, Rezeption, 62–100 der Ausgabe
Sanders, Psalms Scroll.
26
Zur neueren Diskussion siehe Martin Kleer, „Der liebliche Sänger der Psalmen Israels.“ Untersuchungen zu David als Dichter
und Beter der Psalmen (BBB 108; Bodenheim: Philo-Verlag, 1996), 289–317; Peter W. Flint, The Dead Sea Psalms Scrolls
and the Book of Psalms (STDJ 17; Leiden: Brill, 1997); Dahmen, Rezeption; Heinz-Josef Fabry, „Der Psalter in Qumran“,
in Der Psalter in Judentum und Christentum (Erich Zenger, Hg.; HBS 18; Freiburg: Herder 1998), 137–63; Ulrich Dahmen,
„Die Psalter-Versionen aus den Qumranfunden. Ein Gespräch mit P.W. Flint“, in Qumran kontrovers. Beiträge zu den
Textfunden vom Toten Meer (Jörg Frey und Hartmut Stegemann, Hg.; Einblicke 6; Paderborn: Bonifatius, 2003); Martin
Leuenberger, „Aufbau und Pragmatik des 11QPSa-Psalters: Der historisierte Dichter und Beter David als Vorbild und
Identifikationsfigur: 11QPsa als eschatologisches Lese- und Meditationsbuch des qumranischen ‫יחד‬,“in RevQ 22 (2005):
165-–11; und Klaus Seybold, „Dimensionen und Intentionen der Davidisierung der Psalmen. Die Rolle Davids nach den
Psalmenüberschriften und nach dem Septuagintapsalm 151“, in Zenger, Composition, 125–140 (= idem, Studien zu Sprache
und Stil der Psalmen [BZAW 415; Berlin/New York, NY: de Gruyter, 2010], 309–328).
27
Lange, Handbuch, 439–43.
28
29
Kleer, Sänger, 304: „In Sir 47,1–11 steht David in der Spannung von Sünde und Vergebung (...). Der Autor der DavComp
dagegen behauptet, David sei fehlerfrei in all seinen Wegen.“ Ob dieser Widerspruch durch die eschatologische Interpretation
von DavComp aufgelöst werden kann, erscheint mir sprachlich und inhaltlich mehr als zweifelhaft.
von Martin Kleer30 erneuerte eschatologische Verständnis von 11QPsa xxvii 2–11 (DavComp)
sachgerecht ist. Gegenüber der Annahme der Dichtung der 4050 Psalmen bzw. Liedern eines
eschatologischen David ist mit Armin Lange lapidar festzuhalten: „Der Verfasser von David’s
Compositions artikuliert keine eschatologische Hoffnung, sondern verweist auf einen existierenden
Liedpool.“31 Eine eschatologische Komponente der „Davidisierung“ ergibt sich jedoch aus der
Pragmatik von 11QPsa her, wie sie Martin Leuenberger zusammenfassend formuliert:
Der kompositionell und konzeptionell vom historischen David als geistbegabtem, prophetischen
Dichter und von seiner vollkommenen Rechtsordnung geprägte 11QPsa-Psalter wird als
eschatologisches Lese- und Meditationsbuch des qumranischen ‫ יחד‬verwendet, der sich mit dem
davidischen Vorbild identifiziert, sich an dessen gemeinschaftlicher Lebens- und Rechtsordnung
orientiert und daran partizipiert.32
Die Frage der Eschatologisierung Davids könnte auf sich beruhen, wenn sie nicht mit der hier
behandelten Thematik in enger Verbindung stünde, nämlich der Orientierung von 11QPsa am Zion
und an Jerusalem und seinem Tempel.
3.2.3. Die Jerusalemorientierung von 11QPsa

Dieses Bild wird ergänzt durch einen zentralen Aspekt: der Orientierung an Zion, an Jerusalem und
seinem Tempel. In “biblischen” Psalmen wird über MT hinaus in 11QPsa Jerusalem bzw. der Zion
genannt: Ps 135:2 MT in 11QPsa xiv 9 Zusatz ‫ובתוכך ירושלים‬. Darüber hinaus weisen apokryphe
Psalmen in 11QPsa Bezüge zu Jerusalem, zum Zion und zum Tempel auf (z.B. “Apostrophe to Zion”
11QPsa xxii 1–15). Und schließlich bieten “David’s Compositions” (11QPsa xxvii 2–11) Lieder für
den Tempelgottesdienst. Die Gesamtzahl von 4050 der Dichtungen Davids ergibt sich aus:
● 3600 ‫תהלים‬
● für das tägliche Tamidopfer 364 ‫ושיר לשורר‬
● für Qorban am Sabbat 52 ‫שיר‬
● für Qorban der Neumonde 12 ‫שיר‬
● für die Tage der Versammlung und den Versöhnungstag 30 ‫שיר‬, gibt zusammen 446 ‫שיר‬
● über die “Geschlagenen” 4 ‫שיר‬
Klar an den Tempel gebunden sind die 446 Lieder (‫)שיר‬, die Opfer begleiten.
Dieser Text hat m.R. eine wichtige Rolle im Zusammenhang der “Davidisierung” des Psalters
gespielt. Er zeigt ein Davidbild des vollkommenen Gerechten, des Weisen und Erleuchteten, des mit
prophetischem Geist Begabten. Das Bild des Königs oder des messianischen Herrschers tritt dabei
in den Hintergrund. Wichtig ist ein anderer Gesichtspunkt: David ist der Dichter sämtlicher mit
dem Jerusalemer Tempelkult zusammenhängender Kultlieder, der Psalmen und Lieder. Die Zahl der
3600 Psalmen mag sich als 24 Liederzyklen von jeweils 150 Psalmen für die 24 Standmannschaften
30
Kleer, Sänger, 301.
31
32
Leuenberger, “Aufbau,” 199–200 (dort kursiv).
ergeben.33 Insofern wäre David nicht nur der Verfasser des Psalters von 150 Psalmen wie in MT,
sondern er hätte für jede Standmannschaft einen eigenen Psalter von 150 Psalmen gedichtet. Die
364 Lieder für das tägliche Tamidopfer spiegeln den qumran-essenischen Sonnenkalender mit seinen
364 Tagen wider. Die 52 Lieder für die sabbatlichen Qorbanopfer gehen von einem gleichbleibend
52-wöchigen Jahr aus. Nicht sicher können die 30 Lieder für die Neumonde (12), die Feste (?) und
den Versöhnungstag (?) zugeordnet werden, aber alle genannten ergeben zusätzlich zu den 3600
Psalmen weitere 446 Lieder. Diese haben alle einen eindeutigen kultischen Zusammenhang und
Bezug zum Jerusalemer Tempel. Dies wird auch für die letztgenannte Gruppe von vier Liedern
über die “Geschlagenen” zutreffen, wird doch der Zusammenhang dieser Lieder mit Ps 91 aus
11QapocrPs hinreichend deutlich.34
3.2.4. 11QPsa und die Qumran-Essener

Bevor wir in die Entfaltung dieser These eintreten können, sind grundsätzliche Überlegungen zu
11QPsa insbesondere im Blick auf Tempel und Jerusalem notwendig.35 Oder die Frage zugespitzt: Wie
verhält sich die überragende Bedeutung von Jerusalem, des Zion und des Tempels in 11QPsa zur
Tempel- und Jerusalemkritischen Haltung des ‫ ?יחד‬Stellt die “Davidisierung” angesichts der qumran-
essenischen Messiaserwartungen36 kein wirkliches Problem dar,37 so verhält es sich anders im Verhältnis
zu Jerusalem und seinem Tempel.
33
So die plausible Überlegung von Patrick W. Skehan, “Qumran and Old Testament Criticism,” in Qumrân. Sa piété, sa
théologie et son milieu (Matthias Delcor, Hg.; BETL 46; Paris/Leuven: Gembloux, Éditions Duculot/University Press, 1978),
163–82 (169); demgegenüber erscheint die gematrische Deutung (‫ דויד‬hat den Zahlenwert von 24) durch Ben Z. Wacholder,
“David’s Eschatological Psalter 11Q Psalmsa,” HUCA 59 (1988): 23–72 (35), der Kleer, Sänger, 300 zustimmt, sehr gesucht.
34
Siehe Philipp S. Alexander, “The Demonology of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls After Fifty Years.
A Comprehensive Assessment (Peter W. Flint und James C. VanderKam, Hg.; Leiden: Brill, 1999), 2:331–53; Esther Eshel,
“Genres of Magical Texts in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Die Dämonen. The Demons. Die Dämonologie der israelitisch-jüdischen
und frühchristlichen Literatur im Kontext ihrer Umwelt (Armin Lange, Hermann Lichtenberger und Diethard Römheld, Hg.;
Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 395–415; Hermann Lichtenberger, “Ps 91 und die Exorzismen in 11QPsa,” op cit., 416–
21; und Licthtenberger, “Demonology in the Dead Sea Scrolls and the New Testament,” in Text, Thought, and Practice in
Qumran and Early Christianity. Proceedings of the Ninth International Symposium of the Orion Center for the Study of the
Dead Sea Scrolls and Associated Literature, Jointly Sponsored by the Hebrew University Center for the Study of Christianity,
11-13 January, 2004 (Ruth A. Clements und Daniel R. Schwartz, Hg.; STDJ 84; Leiden: Brill, 2009), 267–80; vgl. Lange,
Handbuch, 407–10. Siehe aber den Vorschlag “Thirty Holy Seasons Based on 11QPsa XXVII David’s Compositions,” bei
Shemaryahu Talmon, Jonathan Ben-Dov und Uwe Glessmer, Qumran Cave 4 XVI (DJD 21; Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2001), 15; dort werden die vier Lieder auf “Epagomenal Days” bezogen.
35
Wir können hier die Kanonfrage übergehen; 11QPsa freilich, wie Fabry, “Psalter,” 154, vehement vertritt, “endgültig aus
der Kanondebatte herauszunehmen,” ist unbegründet; siehe dazu die umsichtigen Ausführungen von Lange, Handbuch,
416–30.
36
John J. Collins, The Scepter and the Star: The Messiahs of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Other Ancient Literature (ABRL;
New York, NY: Doubleday, 1995); James H. Charlesworth, Hg., The Messiah: Developments in Earliest Judaism and
Christianity (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1992); Johannes Zimmermann, Messianische Texte aus Qumran. Königliche,
priesterliche und prophetische Messiasvorstellungen in den Schriften von Qumran (WUNT II/104; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck,
1998); James H. Charlesworth, Hermann Lichtenberger und Gerbern S. Oegema, Hg., Qumran-Messianism. Studies on the
Messianic Expectations in the Dead Sea Scrolls (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1998); Stefan Schreiber, Gesalbter und König.
Titel und Konzeptionen der königlichen Gesalbtenerwartung in frühjüdischen und urchristlichen Schriften (BZNW 105;
Berlin/New York, NY: W. de Gruyter, 2000) und Hermann Lichtenberger, “Qumran-Messianism,” in Emanuel. Studies
in Hebrew Bible, Septuagint, and Dead Sea Scrolls in Honor of Emanuel Tov (Shalom M. Paul, Robert A. Kraft, Lawrence
H. Schiffman und Weston W. Fields, Hg.; VT.S 94; Leiden/Boston, MA: Brill, 2003), 323–33.
37
Siehe oben das Zitat von Leuenberger, “Aufbau,” 199–200; freilich konnte der davidische Messias dem priesterlichen
nachgeordnet werden; zu Stellen und Literatur siehe vorhergehende Anmerkung.
Zwar stammen alle Handschriften der von 11QPsa vertretenen Psalmensammlung aus dem 1. Jh.
n.Chr.,38 doch spricht der freie Gebrauch des Tetragramms in der Aufzählung der Psalmen und
Lieder Davids xxvii 2–11 für eine Entstehung vor der Mitte des 2. Jh.s v.Chr.39 und in jedem
Fall nicht in der qumran-essenischen Gemeinde (vom Toten Meer). Die Jerusalemorientierung
und die Spezifizierung der “Israeliten, des Volks seiner Heiligkeit” von Ps 149:9 in 11QPsa xxvi 3
durch “alle seine Frommen” legen eine Datierung in die Zeit der Gefährdung und des zeitweiligen
Verlustes des Tempels und der Rolle der Hasidim 175-164 v.Chr. nahe.40 In diesem Kontext
spielt die “Davidisierung” eine besondere Rolle. Zwar verband sich zunächst die Hoffnung der
Hasidim mit den Hasmonäern und ihrer Erhebung, doch wich diese bald der Enttäuschung (Dan
11:34). Den die Macht an sich reißenden Hasmonäern stehen die in die essenische Gemeinschaft
einmündenden Hasidim strikt ablehnend gegenüber:41 Ihre messianisch-eschatologische Erwartung
richtet sich u.a. auf einen legitimen Aaroniden, andererseits auf einen Davididen.42 “Davidisierung”
und “Jerusalemisierung” konnten sich für die qumran-essenische Gemeinschaft miteinander
verbinden: David bereits hat für die Zeit, in der (wieder) ein legitimer Kult am Jerusalemer Tempel
möglich sein wird, für alle kultischen Begehungen die Psalmen und Lieder gedichtet (11QPsa xxvii
2–11), und zwar aus göttlicher prophetischer Eingebung (xxvii 11). Dann wird auch wieder der
legitime Sonnenkalender von 364 Tagen in Gebrauch sein (xxvii 6–7). Dabei ist David in dem Sinn
durchaus als “historische” Person zu verstehen, als er König und Psalmendichter der Vergangenheit
ist, dessen liturgische Dichtungen jedoch erst dann, wenn wieder ein legitimer Jerusalemer Kult
stattfinden kann, zur Geltung kommt. Bis dahin werden seine Traditionen in einer Gemeinschaft
gepflegt, die diesen Kult nicht in Jerusalem ausüben kann.
3.2.5. Die Jerusalemorientierung von 11QPsa im Rahmen des 4. und 5. Buches des masoretischen
Psalters
Eine Jerusalemorientierung ist im 4. und 5. Buch des Psalters bereits vorgegeben.43 Diese wird
verstärkt durch zwei explizite Texte, die auf unterschiedliche Art einen Bezug zum Zion bzw. zum
Tempel herstellen. Es handelt sich dabei um den im masoretischen Psalter nicht enthaltenen Psalm
“Apostrophe to Zion” (11QPsa xxii 1–15) und den dort ebenfalls nicht überlieferten Prosatext
“David’s Compositions” (11QPsa xxvii 2–11). Es handelt sich in beiden Fällen um vollständig
38
Dazu und zum folgenden Lange, Handbuch, 433–34.
39
Siehe dazu Hartmut Stegemann, “ΚΥΡΙΟΣ Ο ΘΕΟΣ und ΚΥΡΙΟΣ ΙΕΗΣΟΥΣ. Aufkommen und Ausbreitung des
religiösen Gebrauchs von ΚΥΡΙΟΣ und seine Verwendung im Neuen Testament” (Diss. Habil., Bonn, 1969); Stegemann,
“Religionsgeschichtliche Erwägungen zu den Gottesbezeichnungen in den Qumrantexten,” in Delcor, Qumrân, 195–217;
Hermann Lichtenberger, “Eine weisheitliche Mahnrede in den Qumranfunden (4Q185),” op. cit., 151–62; Lichtenberger,
“Der Weisheitstext 4Q185 – Eine neue Edition,” in The Wisdom Texts From Qumran and the Development of Sapiential
Thought (Charlotte Hempel, Armin Lange und Hermann Lichtenberger, Hg.; BETL 159; Leuven/Paris/Sterling, VA: Leuven
University Press/Peeters, 2002), 127–50; und Lichtenberger, “JHWH,” ThWQ 2:101–6.
40
Siehe Lange, Handbuch, 433–34.
41
Hartmut Stegemann, Die Entstehung der Qumrangemeinde (Diss. theol., Bonn, 1971).
42
Siehe die Bibliographie zu den messianischen Vorstellungen von Qumran und verwandter Literaturen bei Martin
G. Abegg, Craig A. Evans und Gerbern S. Oegema, “Bibliography of Messianism and the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Charlesworth,
Lichtenberger, Oegema, Hg., Qumran-Messianism, 204–14.
43
Die folgenden Angaben berücksichtigen die in der Handschrift erhaltenen Bezüge.
erhaltene Texte, 11QPsa xxii 11–15 hat eine Parallele in 4QPsf (4Q88) vii–viii,44 Einzelwörter sind
auch 11QPsb (11Q6) frag. 6 belegt.45
Bei 11QPsa xxii 2–11 “Apostrophe to Zion” ist die Stellung in der Sammlung zu bedenken.
Sie fügt sich ein in die Zion- bzw. Jerusalemorientierung von 11QPsa. Sie hat einen konkreten
Ort in der Gefährdung, dem Verlust, der Hoffnung und schließlich der Wiedergewinnung Zions
im Makkabäeraufstand. Jedoch nicht der militärische Kampf wird Zion wiedergewinnen, sondern
das Hoffen und Sehnen der Frommen. Dies hat ein deutliches Pendant in der Rolle, die David in
11QPsa xxvii 2–11 zugeschrieben wird: Er ist nicht der königliche Herrscher oder der messianische
endzeitliche Retter, sondern der Weise und Fromme, der prophetisch Begabte, der in seinen Psalmen
und Liedern den Jerusalemer Kult begründet hat.
3.2.6. Zusammenfassende Überlegungen

Die Zentrierung auf den Zion, Jerusalem und seinen Tempel ist schon im 4. und 5. Buch des
Psalters angelegt wie auch die “Davidisierung” des Psalters. Sie wird verstärkt in der Psalterversion,
die in 11QPsa erhalten ist.46 Zwischen dieser Davidisierung und Jerusalemzentrierung besteht ein
innerer Zusammenhang, wie er sich in 11QPsa xxvii 2–11 (“David’s Compositions”) zeigt: David
stellt die Texte des Kultes kraft prophetischer Eingabe bereit. In 11QPsa xxii 1–15 (“Apostrophe
to Zion”) begegnet nicht der ursprüngliche Begründer des Jerusalemer Tempels als erster Psalmen-
und Liederdichter, sondern wir werden in eine zeitgeschichtliche Not- und Hoffnungszeit geführt,
eben in die Zeit der Entstehung von 11QPsa. Sie wurde oben charakterisiert als eine Zeit der
Gefährdung, des zeitweiligen Verlustes, der Hoffnung und der Wiedergewinnung des Jerusalemer
Tempels. 11QPsa xxii 1–15 erwähnt David nicht. Die Integration aber dieses Psalms in den 11QPsa-
Psalter mit seiner Davidorientierung bringt deutlich die Kritik hasidischer Kreise an der Usurpation
und Ausübung priesterlicher und herrscherlicher, schließlich königlicher Herrschaft durch die
Hasmonäer zur Sprache.
Die Akzeptanz und Weiterüberlieferung des Psalters 11QPsa in den Qumranfunden hat darum eben
diese beiden Gründe: Die Hoffnung auf einen messianischen Herrscher aus dem Hause David (dem
ein priesterlicher durchaus vorgeordnet sein kann) gegenüber und in Opposition zur hasmonäischen
Herrschaft, die sich nach dem gemeinsamen Widerstand und Erfolg gegen die Fremdbestimmung
als eine für die Frommen illegitime Priesterherrschaft entpuppte, und die Hoffnung auf einen
Jerusalemer Tempel und einen Kult, der die damals von David geschenkten Psalmen und Lieder
im Gottesdienst verwendet und dem richtigen und allein legitimen Sonnenkalender folgt. Bis dies
so weit sein wird, stellt die Gemeinde selbst den Tempel dar, und ihre Opfer bestehen im Lobpreis
und dem vollkommenen Wandel47—wie von David in 11QPsa xxvii 2–11 bezeugt. Und so entbehrt
es nicht der Ironie der Geschichte, dass uns in der Bibliothek der extrem Jerusalemkritischen
44
Eugene Ulrich, Qumran Cave 4, XI, Psalms to Chronicles (DJD 16, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 85–106.
45
Florentino García Martínez, Eibert J.C. Tigchelaar und Adam S. van der Woude, Incorporating Earlier Editions by
Johannes P.M. van der Ploeg, O.P. with a Contribution by Edward Herbert, Qumran Cave 11, II, 11Q2-18, 11Q20-31 (DJD
23; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), 36, Plate IV; insgesamt Dahmen, Rezeption, 244–-48.
46
Wir können in diesem Zusammenhang auf eine Diskussion der Prioritäts- oder Unabhängigkeitsfragen von 11QPsa vom
protomasoretischen Psalter verzichten; siehe dazu jüngst Leuenberger, “Aufbau,” und zusammenfassend Lange, Handbuch,
433–43.
47
Georg Klinzing, Die Umdeutung des Kultus in der Qumrangemeinde und im NT (SUNT 7; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck &
Ruprecht, 1971).
Gemeinschaft vom Toten Meer das sprachlich und theologisch wunderschöne Zionslied 11QPsa
xxii 1–15 erhalten geblieben ist.48
4. DIE THEOLOGISCHE AUSRICHTUNG VON 11QPSAPOC49

11Q11 bietet insgesamt vier Davidpsalmen, deren erste drei bisher unbekannt waren. Eine eindeutige
Zuschreibung an David findet sich lediglich beim 3. Lied (11Q11 v 4). Ein Zusammenhang mit
11Q5 xxvii 9–10 (“vier Lieder über den Geschlagenen”) erscheint zwingend.50 Somit wäre 11Q11
eine Einlösung der in 11Q5 genannten vier Lieder.
4.1. Lied 1
Vom 1. Lied (Kol. i) sind leider nur Einzelwörter erhalten, darunter aber ≅ψντ (Zeile 4) (Ps 91:13)
und [ψβ̅μ (Zeile 6) (“beschwören”), das noch häufiger in der Handschrift Verwendung findet.
Ebenso Zeile 9: !ψδ̅ (“Dämonen”).
4.2. Lied 2
Kol. ii 1–v 3
Im 2. Lied findet sich Zeile 1 die Wendung !̅β (“im Namen”), was deutlich auf eine Beschwörung
hinweist. Zeile 2 spricht von der “Tat Salomos,” womit gewiss auf die Rolle Salomos als
Beschwörer der Dämonen Bezug genommen wird (siehe Josephus, Ant. 8.45–47). In Zeile 3 ist die
Nebeneinanderstellung von τωϕωρ (“Geistern”) und !ψδ̅ (“Dämonen”) erhalten. Zeile 4 könnte
auf den ρ̅ (“Fürsten”) der Dämonen verweisen. Zeile 7 spricht von αωπρ (“Heilung”) und Zeile
8 vom “sich stützen auf deinen Namen”. Die Fortsetzung in Kol. iii greift das “Beschwören” auf,
möglicherweise bezogen auf Engel. Kol. iv nennt einen “starken Engel” (IV,5 ‫)מלאך תקיף‬. Dieser ist
verbunden mit dem “Schlagen YHWHs” mit [einem gewaltigen Schlag?], jedenfalls wird der Zorn
Gottes jemanden (einen Dämon?) vernichten, wozu er den “starken Engel” aussendet. Zeile 7
spricht vom Werfen in die große Tehom und in die tiefste [Scheol], in der Finsternis ist. Dort treffen
ihn die Flüche des Abgrunds. Die “Glut des Zorns” Gottes findet sich Zeile 5 und Zeile 11.
4.3. Lied 3
Kol. v 4–vi 3
Das 3. Lied ist explizit David zugeschrieben und wird bestimmt als “Beschwörung” im Namen
YHWHs. Diese Beschwörung wird sogleich ausgearbeitet in Aufnahme der nächtlichen Gefahr aus
Ps 91: “[Wenn] er kommt zu dir in der Nacht, dann sollst du zu ihm sprechen: ‘Wer bist du? […]
Ein Mensch und vom Samen der Heiligen? Dein Angesicht ist ein Angesicht des Trugs, und deine
Hörner sind Hörner des Traums, Finsternis bist du und nicht Licht, Frevel und nicht Gerechtigkeit’ ”
(Zeile 5-8). Der Dämon wird einerseits nach seinem Namen gefragt, um dadurch Macht über ihn
zu gewinnen, andererseits wird er als völlig kraft- und machtlos lächerlich gemacht. Was folgt, ist
48
Wie die Parallelhandschrift 4Q88 bezeugt, handelt es sich um bewusste Überlieferung des Textes.
49
Siehe Corinna Körting, “Text and Context – Ps 91 and 11QPsApa,” in Zenger, Composition, 567–77.
50
Vgl. aber oben Anmerkung 34.
dann wohl die Verbannung in die Unterwelt durch den “Fürsten des Heeres YHWHs” (Zeile 8).
Die tiefste Scheol hat eherne Tore, die ihn auf Dauer verwahren werden (Zeile 9). Der Psalm wird
abgeschlossen durch einen Hinweis auf die “Söhne Belials” und Sela (vi 3).
4.4. Lied 4
Als 4. Lied schließt Ps 91 die Sammlung der vier Psalmen “über den Zerschlagenen” ab. Dabei nehmen
die drei vorhergehenden Psalmen Einzelbegriffe aus Ps 91 bereits auf, wie z.B. ≅ψντ, ⊥αλμ. Motive aus
Ps 91 werden z.B. im 3. Psalm ausgearbeitet. Gegenüber MT weist 11QPsapoc eine unterschiedliche
Fassung auf. Dies bezieht sich zunächst auf Einzelwörter, die entweder hinzugefügt (Zeile 4) oder ersetzt
(Zeile 6) sind. Dazu gehört auch die Einfügung von “Sela” in Zeile 6, und in Zeile 14 der responsorische
Abschluss mit “Amen, Amen. Sela.” In Zeile 7 und 8 sind zwei Versglieder umgestellt, um die Tageszeiten
in Reihenfolge zu bringen (MT: Nacht, Tag, Dämmerung, Mittag—Qumran: Nacht, Tag, Mittag,
Dämmerung). Eine kleine Wortumstellung findet sich in Zeile 9. Der wichtigste Unterschied betrifft
die Weglassung der Gottesrede in Vers 14 und 15 MT, Vers 16 ist in Qumran wieder aufgenommen,
setzt aber wohl die Rede von Gott in 3. Person fort. Die Qumranfassung des Psalms hat gegenüber MT
ein responsorisches “Amen, Amen” und schließt mit “Sela” ab.
Kol. vi 3–14
3 [Wer sitzt] im Schutz des [Allmächtigen], [im Schat]ten Schadais
4 [nächtigt], der spricht [zu YHWH: Meine Festung] und [meine] Burg, [mein Gott] (ist) [mein]
Vertrauen, [ich vertraue] auf ihn.
5 [Denn e]r wird dich erretten von [der Falle des Vogelfän]gers, von der [bösar]tigen Pest,
[unter] seinem Gefieder wird er [dich] beschützen, und unter
6 seinen [Flügeln] wirst du wohnen. [Seine] Gnade ist [üb]er dir ein Schild und ein Schirm ist
seine Wahrheit. Sela. Du fürchtest dich nicht
7 vor dem Schrecken der Nacht, vor dem Pfeil, der tagsüber fliegt, vor der Seuche, die am
Mittag wütet, vor der Pest, die in der Dämmerung
8 einhergeht. Es fallen tausend zu deiner Seite und zehn[tausend zu deiner Re]chten, [dich] aber
wird es ni[cht] treffen. Nur, [du blickst]
9 mit deinen Augen, du [wirst sehen] die Vergeltung an den Frevle[rn]. Du hast ge[rufen] um
[deine] Rettung, du hast (ihn) gemacht zu deiner Lust. [Nicht]
10 fürchtest du dich, [und] nicht (ist) Plage in deinen [Zelten]. Denn [seinen Engeln] befiehlt er
deinetwegen,
11 [dich] zu behüten auf deinen [Wegen], auf Händen [werden sie] dich [tragen], damit [du nicht
stoßest an einen Ste]in [deinen] Fuß.
12 Eine Schlange [wirst du zer]treten, du zertrittst […] und Drache. Du hast festgehalten […]
13 […] [er wird] dir zei[gen] [seine] Rettung,
14 und sie sollen antw[orten: Amen, Amen]. Sela. […]

Da es kaum denkbar ist, dass der Verfasser der Sammlung aus Ps 91 ausgerechnet das Heilsorakel in
Gestalt der Gottesrede weggelassen hat, ist mit Sicherheit mit zwei unterschiedlichen Fassungen bzw.
Rezensionen von Ps 91 zu rechnen. Ob in dieser die Wortänderungen und Umstellungen gegenüber
dem MT-Text schon bestanden, oder ob sie durch den Verfasser der Sammlung vorgenommen
wurden, lässt sich nicht mit Sicherheit sagen.
Die Verbindungen der drei vorhergehenden Lieder mit Ps 91 zeigen sich in einigen zentralen
Punkten:
(a) Die Gefahr in der Nacht (v 4: “Wenn er zu dir kommt in der Nacht” vgl. Ps 91:5)
(b) Die Frage nach dem Namen (v 6: “Wer bist du?” vgl. Ps 91:2)
(c) Die Frevelhaftigkeit des Dämons (v 6–8: “Dein Angesicht ist ein Angesicht der Nichtigkeit
und deine Hörner sind Hörner des Traums, Finsternis bist du und nicht Licht, Frevel und
nicht Gerechtigkeit” vgl. Ps 91:3–8, 10, 13)
(d) Das Heer YHWHs (v 8: “Der Fürst des Heeres YHWHs”; vgl. IV,5: “ein mächtiger Engel”;
d.h. Aktivierung der göttlichen Engel bzw. des göttlichen Heeres zugunsten der Bedrohten
vgl. Ps 91:11f.)
Ps 91 hat auf die ihm vorangestellten Psalmen weniger terminologisch als inhaltlich eingewirkt. Ps
91 schließt die Sammlung von Beschwörungspsalmen mit der Gewissheit der göttlichen Rettung ab
und wirkt damit wie ein Schlussstein. Durch die Einbeziehung in die Sammlung von Exorzismen
wird Ps 91 selbst zu einem solchen Beschwörungstext. Das ist vor allem auch daran zu sehen, dass er,
abweichend von MT, liturgisch durch “Amen, Amen, Sela” in die Sammlung integriert wird. Indem
Ps 91 die Sammlung der Beschwörungen beschließt, macht er deutlich, dass am wirkungsvollsten
die Anrufung Gottes selbst ist.
5. SCHLUSSÜBERLEGUNGEN
Konnten wir im ersten Teil die Vielfalt in Qumran überlieferter Psalmensammlungen erkennen, so
sollte im zweiten Teil auf einen bereits in der biblischen Überlieferung angelegten Zug aufmerksam
gemacht werden, nämlich die Orientierung an David. Der erste Teil zeigte die Vielfalt und große
Zahl der Psalmenhandschriften in Qumran, unter denen einige wenige neben biblischen Psalmen
entweder bisher unbekannte oder andernorts überlieferte Psalmen bieten. Daneben finden sich
Sammlungen von Psalmen und Liedern, die bisher völlig unbekannte Texte überliefern. Sie umfassen
eine ganze Bandbreite, nämlich von zwei Psalmen bis zu 50. Unter ihnen ragt die Sammlung
der Hodayot heraus. Diese gehen entweder auf einen individuellen Verfasser, den Lehrer der
Gerechtigkeit (“Lehrerlieder”), oder auf einzelne Fromme (“Gemeindelieder”) zurück. Andere
Handschriften bieten Sammlungen zu täglichen Gebeten oder zu Festtagen. In ihnen spielt David
keine besondere Rolle.
Die Ausrichtung auf David ist freilich ein entscheidender Zug in 11QPsa und 11QPsapoc. Im
erstgenannten Text wird David faktisch zum Dichter sämtlicher kultischer Dichtungen und einer
Sammlung von Exorzismen, die dann in 11QPsapoc wiederzufinden ist. Hier wird das Davidbild
über das des geistbegabten Sängers und messianischen Wiederbringers des Kultes mit einem Zug
versehen, der sich in der frühjüdischen Überlieferung eher bei seinem Sohn Salomo angeheftet
hat, nämlich dem des Exorzisten. Freilich ist biblisch diese für David bereits fest vorgegeben: Die
ηωηψ ϕωρ hatte Saul verlassen und eine η[ρ ϕωρ hat ihn überfallen. David wird gerufen, der vor
Saul auf seinem Instrument (ρωνκ) spielt, und jedes Mal, wenn er es tut, “wich von ihm die η[ρη
ϕωρ” (1 Sam 16:14–23). 11QPsapoc greift diesen Zug auf und führt ihn weiter. Die Sammlung
der vier Lieder Davids dient dem Vertreiben des bösen Geistes bzw. der Dämonen und füllt eine
traditionsgeschichtliche Lücke. Welche Bedeutung dies für die Heilungen und Exorzismen des
Davidsohns Jesus von Nazareth hat, müssen Neutestamentler erst noch entdecken.
6. BIBLIOGRAPHIE
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204–14 in Qumran-Messianism: Studies on the Messianic Expectations in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Edited by
James H. Charlesworth, Hermann Lichtenberger and G. S. Oegema. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1998.
Alexander, P. S. “The Demonology of the Dead Sea Scrolls.” Pages 331–53 in The Dead Sea Scrolls After Fifty
Years: A Comprehensive Assessment. Edited by P. W. Flint and James C. VanderKam 2. Leiden, Boston, MA,
Köln: Brill, 1999.
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Charlesworth, J. H., ed. The Messiah. Developments in Earliest Judaism and Christianity. Minneapolis,
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Flint, P. W. The Dead Sea Psalms Scrolls and the Book of Psalms. STDJ 17. Leiden, Köln: Brill, 1997.
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and Other Early Jewish Studies in Honour of Florentino García Martínez. Edited by A. Hilhorst. JSJSup.
Leiden, Boston, MA: Brill, 2007.
García M., Florentino, E. J.C. Tigchelaar, and van der Woude, A. S. Incorporating Earlier Editions by Johannes
P.M. van der Ploeg, O.P. with a Contribution by Edward Herbert. Qumran Cave 11, II, 11Q2-18, 11Q20-
31. DJD 23. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998.
Hartenstein, F. “Schaffe mir Recht, JHWH!‘ (Ps 7,9). Zum theologischen und anthropologischen Profil der
Teilkomposition Psalm 3–14.” Pages 229–58 in The Composition of the Book of Psalms. Edited by E.
Zenger. BETL 238. Leuven, MA: Peeters, 2010.
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E. Zenger. Kohlhammer Studienbücher Theologie 1,1. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1995.
Janowski, B. Sühne als Heilsgeschehen. Studien zur Sühnetheologie der Priesterschrift und zur Wurzel KPR im
Alten Orient und im Alten Testament. 2nd ed. WMANT 55. Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag, 2000.
Janowski, B. “Das biblische Weltbild. Eine methodologische Skizze.” Pages 3–26 in Der Gott des Lebens. Edited
by B. Janowski. Beiträge zur Theologie des Alten Testaments 3. Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag, 2003.
Janowski, B. “Die heilige Wohnung des Höchsten. Kosmologische Implikationen der Jerusalemer
Tempeltheologie.” Pages 27–71 in Der Gott des Lebens. Edited by B. Janowski. Beiträge zur Theologie des
Alten Testaments 3. Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag, 2003.
Janowski, B. “Ein Tempel aus Worten. Zur theologischen Architektur des Psalters.” Pages 279–306 in The
Composition of the Book of Psalms. Edited by E. Zenger. BETL 238. Leuven, MA: Peeters, 2010.
Janowski, B. “Psalm 1.” Pages 7–54 in Psalmen. Edited by F. Hartenstein and B. Janowski. BK XV/1.
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Kleer, M. “Der liebliche Sänger der Psalmen Israels”. Untersuchungen zu David als Dichter und Beter der
Psalmen. BBB 108. Bodenheim: Philo-Verlag, 1996.
Klinzing, G. Die Umdeutung des Kultus in der Qumrangemeinde und im NT. SUNT 7. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck
& Ruprecht, 1971.
Körting, C. “Text and Context—Ps 91 and 11QPsApa.” Pages 567–77 in The Composition of the Book of
Psalms. Edited by E. Zenger. BETL 238. Leuven, MA: Peeters, 2010.
Lange, A. Handbuch der Textfunde vom Toten Meer. Band 1: Die Handschriften biblischer Bücher von Qumran
und den anderen Fundorten. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009.
Leuenberger, M. “Aufbau und Pragmatik des 11QPSa-Psalters. Der historisierte Dichter und Beter David als
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‫יחד‬.” RdQ 22 (2005): 165–211.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Luxury Scrolls” from the

Judean Desert
EMANUEL TOV
1. BACKGROUND
In my book Scribal Practices,1 I first suggested the existence of a special type of scrolls characterized
as deluxe scrolls,2 illustrating an important aspect of the writing culture known from Greek sources.
It is important to recognize which compositions were chosen to be included in this category.
The main argument for the existence of luxury scrolls is the presence of large top and bottom
margins of more than 3.0 cm above and below the writing block. Writing material was expensive and
the fact that scroll manufacturers left writing surface unused had a special meaning in ancient times.
Leaving a large area uninscribed accorded that scroll a special elegance as it accentuated the
writing block. In a book culture in which top and bottom margins averaged 1.0–1.5 cm, there must
have been a special reason to leave a larger area uninscribed throughout the scroll. At a certain
point, I realized that this practice was accompanied by other features, among which is the fact that
a larger than usual percentage of the presumed luxury scrolls contained Scripture texts.
Scrolls were usually prepared in such a way that the writing block of all columns was more or less
identical. Various devices were used to guarantee that the lines had the same length, the distance
between the lines was more or less identical, and that lines in adjacent columns would be written at
the same height. The most frequently used device for this purpose was guide dots positioned before
and after the lines, which ensured that the lines were drawn at fixed intervals.3
This chapter is dedicated to Jim Charlesworth, a scholar of many accomplishments and a dear friend.
1
E. Tov, Scribal Practices and Approaches Reflected in the Texts Found in the Judean Desert, STDJ 54 (Leiden: Brill,
2004), 125–9.
2
I adopted this term from the analysis of the Greek writing culture. K. Davis, “High Quality Scrolls from the Post-Herodian
Period,” in Gleanings from the Caves: Dead Sea Scrolls and Artefacts from The Schøyen Collection, ed. T. Elgvin, K. Davis,
and M. Langlois, LSTS 71 (London: T&T Clark, 2016), 129–38, uses the term “high-quality” scrolls in his valuable analysis
of the fragments found in the Schøyen Collection.
3
The ruling was performed for the sheet as a whole, so that the slight deviations always recur at the same place in each
column within a sheet or in several sheets. See the data relating to two scrolls: 4QpsEzekc (4Q385b) 1 i–iii: The space
between lines 2 and 3 in the three adjacent columns is larger than that between the other lines. In the case of 11QTa (11Q19),
three sheets containing cols. XLV–LX were ruled with identical spaces between the lines, while two subsequent sheets (cols.
LXI–LXVI) were ruled differently, leaving more space between the lines. For details, see Y. Yadin, The Temple Scroll, 3 vols.
(Jerusalem: The Israel Exploration Society/The Institute of Archaeology of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem/The Shrine
of the Book, 1983), 1.11–12.
The purpose of the present chapter is to develop further the assumption of luxury scrolls, to
incorporate new evidence, and to pay attention to some reactions to my initial thoughts.
The suggestion of the existence of luxury scrolls in Hebrew and Aramaic is supported by
practices in the Greek writing culture applied to literary papyrus scrolls. According to Schubart,4
the major criterion for recognizing deluxe editions among the papyrus scrolls is the margin size,
such as in the case of the Thucydides papyri P.Oxy. 61.4103–4112 with margins of 4.0–8.0 cm
(four texts from the second century ce) as well as various Herculaneum papyri with margins of
5.0–6.0 cm.5 Johnson described in detail which of Schubart’s arguments for the existence of luxury
scrolls had been accepted by scholars and which had not, but the size of the margins remained
a stable criterion.6 Johnson himself provided detailed data regarding these margins, and he also
turned to additional criteria.7
Our discussion turns first to the size of the margins and subsequently to other parameters of
luxury scrolls. Most of the relevant data are included in Table 27.1.
2. LARGE TOP AND BOTTOM MARGINS

IN LEATHER SCROLLS
Table 27.1 presents all the Judean Desert texts with large-sized top and bottom margins (more
than 3.0 cm).8 The table includes scrolls in which at least one of the two margins exceeds 3.0 cm,
although usually both exceed that size. The purpose of the table is to establish that these parameters
were used especially for deluxe editions, in this case mainly of biblical texts. Other parameters
are also recorded for these texts; we will return to them below (number of lines, height, size
of intercolumnar margin, date, textual character of the biblical texts, and the degree of scribal
intervention expressed by the average number of lines between corrections in the text). In this
table, “r” signifies “reconstructed.” In some cases (“—”), the relevant evidence is lacking. Since
top and bottom margins usually measure 1.0–2.0 cm in the texts from the Judean Desert, margins
such as those in MurNum (7.5 cm), 2QNuma (5.7+ cm), 4QDeutg (5.7+ cm), and XḤev/SeNumb
(7.2–7.5 cm) are very unusual. The dates of the texts listed below are quoted from Brian Webster.9
Underlined names of texts have ce dates.10
4
W. Schubart, Das Buch bei den Griechen und Römern, 2nd ed. (Berlin: Gruyter, 1921), 58–9.
5
G. Cavallo, Libri scritture scribi a Ercolano (Napoli: Macchiaroli, 1983).
6
W. A. Johnson, Bookrolls and Scribes in Oxyrhynchus (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2004), 132–41.
7
Reduced height of the column, large script, wide line spacing (leading), excessive length of the scroll (Johnson, Bookrolls,
155–6). However, other scholars consider tall columns a criterion for a deluxe scroll (ibid., 123).
8
The table is adapted and corrected from Table 27 in Tov, Scribal Practices, 126–7. Johnson, Bookrolls, 132–41, gives
detailed data on the margins in Greek literary papyrus scrolls.
9
B. Webster, “Chronological Index,” in The Texts from the Judaean Desert: Indices and an Introduction to the Discoveries
in the Judaean Desert Series, ed. E. Tov, DJD 39 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2002), 351–446.
10
The list includes three texts from the Schøyen Collection that have been published in Gleanings from the Caves; see nn. c,
d, e in Table 27.1.
TABLE 27.1 Hebrew/Aramaic Deluxe Texts Found in the Judean Desert (Main Criterion: Large Top/Bottom Margins)
a. Biblical Texts (27)

Name Top Margin Bottom No. of Lines Height (cm) Intercol. Date Textual Aver. Lines
(cm) Margin (cm) Space (cm) Character b/w Corrs.
1QIsaa 2.0–2.8 2.5–3.3 28–32 24.5–27 0.5–1.3 125–100 bce ind. 4
2QNuma – 5.7+ – – – 30–68 ce – 17+
4QGenb 3.3 – 40 r 35 r 1.2–1.5 30–100 ce MT 62
4QExodc 4.0–4.4 3.6 ca. 43 r 38 r 1.0–1.8 50–25 bce MT-like 17
4QpaleoGen-Exodl – 4.0 55–60 r 38 r 1.8–2.2 100–25 bce MT-like 105
4QpaleoExodm 3.0–3.5 4.3–4.5 32, 33 35+ 1.5–2.2 100–25 bce SP 197
4QDeutg frg. 11 – 5.7+ – – – 1–25 ce MT-like/SP 43
4QJudgb frg. 3 – 5.3 – – – 30–1 bce MT-like 8
4QSama 2.2–2.7 2.9–3.1 42–44 r 30.1 1.3 50–25 bce ind./LXX 110
4QJerc – 2.5–4.5 18 25.3–26.3 1.5–2.0 30–1 bce MT-like 25
4QEzeka 3.0+ – 42 r 29.5 r 0.7–1.7 50–25 bce ind. 50
4QPsc 1.5+ 3.2+ 33 ca. 26 1.5–2.1 1–50 ce MT-like 52
MurGen frg 1 5.2 – 50 r 46.5 r 1.7 ca. 115 ce MT 23+
MurNum frg 6 – 7.5 50 r 46.5 r – ca. 115 ce MT –
MurDeut frg 2 3.8 – 30–31 r – 1.8–2.0 20–50 ce – –
MurIsa – 3.0+ – – – 20–84 ce MT –
MurXII 2.6–4.0 4.5–5.0 39 35.5 2.0–2.2 ca. 115 ce MT 75
XḤev/SeNumb – 7.2–7.5 44 r 39.5 r 1.4–2.5 50–68 ce MT 28+
34SeNum 5.0 – – – 2.0 – – –
MasLevb 2.2 2.7 25 21 2.0–3.0 30 bce–30 ce MT 24
MasDeutA 3.4 – 42 33 1.0 50–1 bce (or 50 – 17
ce?)
MasEzek 3.0 – 42 29.5 1.5 50–1 bce (or MT 18
30–68 ce?)
MasPsa 2.4 3.0 29 25.5 1.0–3.0B 25–1 bce (or MT 74+
25–50 ce?)
SdeirGen – – 40 r 27–33 r 1.7–2.0 50–100 ce – –
XQLevc = Mur/ḤevLevC 3.5 – 46 r 29 r 1.8–2.1 50–100 ce MT –
Ḥev(?)JoelD 3.5 – – – – 50–100 ce – –
Mur/ḤevJoshE – 4.0 27–28 ca. 24 1.8 100 ce MT –
A
MasDeut together with MasEzek and MasPsa were assigned later dates subsequent to the publication. For MasDeut, see F. García Martínez, “Les manuscripts des
Désert de Juda et le Deutéronome,” in Studies in Deuteronomy in Honour of C.J. Labuschagne on the Occasion of His 65th Birthday, ed. F. García Martínez et al.,
VTSup 53 (Leiden: Brill, 1994), 63–91 at 75 [approximately 50 ce]; E. J. C. Tigchelaar, “Notes on the Ezekiel Scroll from Masada (MasEzek),” RevQ 22 (2005–
6): 269–75 at 273–5 [30–68 ce]; G. W. Nebe, “Die Masada-Psalmen-Handschrift M1039-160 nach einem jüngst veröffentlichten Photo mit Text von Psalm 81,2-
85,6,” RevQ 14 (1989–90): 89–97 at 94 [25–50 ce]; and A. Lange, Handbuch der Textfunde vom Toten Meer (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009), 403–4 [25 bce–25
ce]. These views have been accepted by Davis, “High Quality Scrolls.”
B
Because of the stichometric arrangement, the intercolumnar margin cannot be measured easily. The average space is 2.1 cm, while in several cases it is 3.0 cm, and
once 1.0 cm.
C
MS 4611 in the Schøyen Collection; see Gleanings from the Caves, 159–67.
D
MS 4612/1 in the Schøyen Collection; see ibid., 223–32.
E
MS 2713 in the Schøyen Collection; ibid., 185–92.
b. Nonbiblical Texts (8)

Name Top Margin Bottom No. of Lines Height (cm) Intercolumnar Date Aver. Lines b/w
(cm) Margin (cm) Space (cm) Corrs.
1QM 2.7–3.5 – 20 or 23–25 – 1.5–2.0 30–1 bce 17
r
1QapGen ar 2.2–3.1 2.6–3.0 34 30.5–31 1.8–2.0 30 bce–68 ce 17
4QCommGen C (4Q254) frg. 16 – 3.8 – – – 25–1 bce 40
4QcryptA Lunisolar Cal. (4Q317) – 2.9–3.1 33 r – 2.3 150–100 bce –
4Qpap paraKings et al. (4Q382), 3.5? 2.6 – – – 75–70 bce –
frg. 110
4QpapRitPur B (4Q512) 3.0 – – – 1.5 ca. 85 bce 32
4QapocrLevib? ar (4Q541) 1.1+ 3.0 – – 1.0 ca. 100 bce 35
11QTa (11Q19) – 2.8–3.6 22–29 r – 1.8–2.4 1–30 ce 16
“Luxury Scrolls” from the Judean Desert 425
TABLE 27.2 Hebrew/Aramaic Deluxe Texts Found in the Judean Desert
Biblical Texts Nonbiblical Texts

Qumran 12 8
Other sites 15 0
The data in Table 27.1 pertain mainly to texts written on skins (leather). With one possible
exception, 4Qpap paraKings et al. (4Q382), luxury papyrus scrolls with large margins have not
been preserved. The reason for the lack of such papyrus scrolls is probably that most luxury texts
contain Scripture and other authoritative texts (see below) and it was not customary to write
Scripture on papyrus.11 For the data, see Appendix 27.2.
Some remarkable facts about the distribution of texts with large top and bottom margins come
to light in the analysis of Table 27.1. Altogether we identified thirty-five such texts among the
Judean Desert texts, twenty at Qumran and fifteen at the other sites (see Table 27.2).12
The internal division of these texts is of interest, since the large-margin texts are statistically much
more frequent at the Judean Desert sites (Masada, Murabba‘at, Naḥal Ḥever, Naḥal Mishmar, Naḥal
Ṣe’elim, Wadi Sdeir) than at Qumran. A mere twenty such texts (of which eight are nonbiblical)
are found among the approximately six hundred Qumran texts relevant for this analysis.13 On the
other hand, the proportion of such texts among the non-Qumran texts is much larger, fifteen out
of seventy literary texts.14 This disparity between the texts found at Qumran and those from other
Judean Desert sites may have been caused by the differences in date since the texts from the latter
are usually later than those from Qumran. There are eight non-Scripture texts among the Qumran
texts, while there are none from the Judean Desert sites. In other words, among the twenty luxury
Qumran texts, 60 percent are biblical, which implies that a large format was used especially for the
books of Hebrew Scripture.
This percentage grows if we characterize the group as authoritative texts rather than as Scripture
texts, and then include at least the Temple Scroll and possibly also 1QapGen ar. In that case, we
have to reckon with fourteen authoritative scrolls forming 67 percent of the Qumran evidence.
Since only some 150 (or 25%) of the approximately 600 relevant Qumran texts are biblical, the
percentage of biblical scrolls with large margins is striking.
The percentage of biblical scrolls among the texts found in the Judean Desert outside Qumran is
larger than that at Qumran, namely 100 percent (fifteen texts). In fact, only three Scripture scrolls
with smaller margin sizes are known from the Judean Desert sites: MasLeva (bottom: 2.7 cm);
MasLevb (1.8 and 2.7 cm); 5/6ḤevPs = 5/6Ḥev 1b (1.7+ and 2.1 cm). No margins have
been preserved or the margin is unclear (ArugLev) in all other fragments from these sites.15
11
The writing of Scripture on papyrus was forbidden according to the rabbinic texts (m. Meg. 2.2; y. Meg.1.71d). See Tov,
Scribal Practices, 252.
12
When the provenance is unclear, we record the text as not deriving from Qumran.
13
The analysis includes some very fragmentary texts that contain information about the margins even if little of the text itself
has been preserved.
14
Masada: 25, Murabba‘at: 10, Sdeir: 1, Ḥever: 9, Ṣe’elim: 1, unknown provenance: 8, Schøyen Collection: 16 (not
including fragments from known works).
15
The full list of the published fragments is provided in E. Tov, Revised Lists of the Texts from the Judaean Desert (Leiden: Brill,
2010), 126–9.
In other words, we can express this parameter now with more force than in the past: the great
majority of the Scripture fragments found outside Qumran have large top and bottom margins.
In most cases, the combined size of the top and bottom margins equals some 20 percent of
the total height of the leather, while in the case of MurXII the margins amount to 25 percent.
These high percentages emphasize the great importance attached to the space around the text.
These proportions conform to the data of the Oxyrhynchus and other Greek papyri analyzed by
Johnson.16
3. OTHER PARAMETERS OF LUXURY SCROLLS

Luxury scrolls cannot be characterized only by the employment of large margins. Additional criteria
are: large intercolumnar margins, the use of a large writing block, careful scribal transmission, a late
date, and MT content in the Scripture scrolls. In many cases, these parameters appear together, but
sometimes they do not. In other words, large writing blocks do not always demonstrate the luxury
character of a scroll, not all carefully written scrolls point to deluxe editions, and so on.
3.1. Large Intercolumnar Margins

It is natural for scrolls with large top and bottom margins to also have larger than usual intercolumnar
margins since the esthetic aspects of both dimensions go together. The data for the size of these
intercolumnar margins have not been summarized in research, and therefore we need to resort
to impressions. It seems to me that the average width between columns is 1.0–1.5 cm.17 Larger
intercolumnar margins of 1.5–3.0 cm very often appear together with large top and bottom margins
(see Table 27.1), although large intercolumnar margins are also found in other scrolls.18
3.2. Large Writing Blocks

In the mentioned examples of deluxe editions, large margins usually accompany a large writing
block. Tall columns together with large margins create an aesthetically pleasing writing surface.
Indeed, almost all scrolls recorded in Table 27.1 contain more than 25 lines, while many of them
contain 35–60 lines. However, conversely, in the majority of the tall scrolls containing 25–34 lines
(starting with 15 cm, but often measuring 20–35 cm) or very tall scrolls containing 35–60 lines
(starting with 18 cm, but usually measuring between 30 and 51 cm),19 no such large margins are
found. In other words, most of the tall scrolls do not point to a deluxe character.
3.3. Careful Scribal Transmission

Most deluxe scrolls are written in an elegant scribal handwriting and display a careful scribal
transmission. Neither of these parameters can be defined objectively, but one aspect can be expressed
with precise terms, namely the level of scribal intervention. Scribal intervention pertains to the
visible correction of mistakes and to the insertion of changes in the text (supralinear corrections,
16
Johnson, Bookrolls, 132–3.
17
See Tov, Scribal Practices, 103.
18
Ibid.
19
The data are recorded in Tov, Scribal Practices, 87–9.
deletions, erasures, reshaping of letters, and linear and supralinear scribal signs). All these techniques
were acceptable in early scrolls, including carefully copied scrolls. I measure the amount of scribal
intervention by dividing the total number of lines by the number of scribal interventions. In this
way, I calculate the average number of lines between any two instances of scribal intervention, listed
in the last column of Table 27.1 (in this column, “—” indicates the lack of data when the text sample
is small). The lower the average number of lines between any two corrections, the higher the rate
of scribal intervention.20 One correction per twenty or more lines should probably be considered
a low degree of scribal correction, but most scrolls in Table 27.1 have (far) fewer corrections. As a
rule, there is less scribal intervention in the deluxe biblical scrolls than in the nonbiblical scrolls, and
the two paleo-Hebrew scrolls (4QpaleoGen-Exodl and 4QpaleoExodm) as well as 4QSama stand out
with a very low level of scribal intervention. Most deluxe scrolls have less scribal intervention than
is permissible according to the criteria that were formulated subsequently in rabbinic sources (see
n. 30). A relatively high level of scribal intervention is evidenced in 4QExodc and a very high level
is evidenced in 1QIsaa, which displays an average of one correction in every four lines. Therefore,
1QIsaa should not be considered a luxury scroll and the same probably pertains to 4QExodc.
Other scrolls from Qumran that were not written in deluxe format sometimes also reflect a
minimal amount of scribal intervention, both MT-like scrolls and scrolls beyond the Masoretic
family.21 This fact shows that the criteria for luxury scrolls should be analyzed together.
3.4. Late Date

Possibly the use of wide margins was closely related to the late date of the documents. Eleven of
the fifteen Judean Desert scrolls that derive from sites other than Qumran and that contain large
margins have been given ce dates in their editio princeps. Three additional Masada texts that
were dated to the second half of the first century bce in their first publications were subsequently
given a ce date (see n. 9). As a result, all fifteen Judean Desert texts from sites other than Qumran
may plausibly be given ce dates. At Qumran, the picture is different: eight biblical texts that have
large margins are dated before the Common Era, while only four texts have a ce date (2QNuma,
4QGenb, 4QDeutg, 4QPsc). Therefore, in the case of the Qumran scrolls, large margins are not
necessarily associated with a late date. At the same time, the evidence from the non-Qumran texts
is unmistakable: probably all these texts (all being Scripture texts) were produced with large top
and bottom margins.
3.5. Masoretic Character of Scripture Scrolls

The great majority of scrolls written in deluxe format contain Scripture (twelve from Qumran and
fifteen from the other sites). Most of the biblical texts reflect the MT group, either “MT-like” texts
from Qumran or proto-Masoretic texts, which are virtually identical to the medieval Masoretic
manuscripts, from the other sites.22 The proto-Masoretic text is contained in all ten of the Scripture
20
This number merely provides an impression of the extent of scribal intervention since lines that have only survived in part
are included among the data (for the full data, see Tov, Scribal Practices, Appendix 27.1).
21
See the data in Tov, Scribal Practices, 331–43.
22
For a discussion of the nature of these two groups, see the analysis in my Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 3rd rev.
and exp. ed. (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2012), 29–31.
scrolls from non-Qumran sites and one scroll from Qumran (4QGenb) that contain enough material
for analysis23 (see Table 27.1).24
The deluxe format was used for authoritative scrolls, especially those containing Scripture of
Masoretic content, and this format may have been preferred by the circles that transmitted this text
(see the conclusions below). At the same time, the deluxe format was also used for other Scripture
texts that scribes wished to present in a special way. Thus, 4QpaleoExodm resembles the SP and
4QSama and 4QEzeka are textually independent (non-aligned). Furthermore, scroll manufacturers
and scribes decided to prepare in this way also several nonbiblical scrolls, as listed in Table 27.1.
4. CONCLUSIONS
The aforementioned data and analysis show that we should posit among late scrolls especially a
group written in deluxe format, mainly Scripture texts, that are characterized by large top and
bottom margins, large intercolumnar margins, tall columns, a low incidence of scribal intervention,
and a high degree of proximity to or even identity with MT. In fact, all the Judean Desert scrolls
for which the margins are known25 are of this type, while three texts come very close: MasLeva
(2.8 cm), MasLevb (2.7 cm),26 and 5/6HevPs (2.5–2.7 cm).
It appears that the use of large top and bottom margins is the major criterion for establishing
that a scroll was prepared as a deluxe edition, together with other features as listed above.
MasPsa and MurXII probably serve as good examples of such choice texts. In antiquity, Scripture
scrolls in particular were written as luxury scrolls and, more generally, authoritative scrolls (thus
including 11QTa and 1QapGen ar) and others that were deemed important in the eyes of their
scribes. All these criteria also apply to a Greek scroll, 8ḤevXIIgr, assigned to the end of the first
century bce.27
No data are available regarding the milieu in which luxury scrolls were manufactured, and they
may have been produced in more than one center. The only certain fact is that the great majority of
the Judean Desert scrolls except for those from Qumran are of the luxury type. It would be an easy
solution to assume that luxury production is inherent with a late date, at least for the non-Qumran
23
This scroll probably did not derive from Qumran, but from one of the other Judean Desert sites; see J. R. Davila in
Qumran Cave 4.VII: Genesis to Numbers, ed. E. Ulrich and F. M. Cross, DJD 12 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994; repr.,
1999), 31.
24
D. A. Teeter, Scribal Laws: Exegetical Variation in the Textual Transmission of Biblical Law in the Late Second Temple
Period, FAT 92 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 233–7 at 234, casts doubt on the close connection between the luxury
scrolls and MT, claiming that this connection pertains only to five Qumran texts. However, Teeter’s analysis focuses only on
Qumran, while disregarding the non-Qumran scrolls in which the connection with MT is much stronger. At the same time,
Teeter rightly points out that I should not have continued my analysis with a discussion of the place of origin of these scrolls
in Tov, Scribal Practices, 128. Writing about MurXII, P. B. Hartog agrees with Teeter: “Reading and Copying the Minor
Prophets in the Late Second Temple Period,” in The Books of the Twelve Prophets, Minor Prophets—Major Theologies, ed.
H.-J. Fabry, BETL 295 (Leuven: Peeters, 2018), 411–23 at 419.
25
All the biblical scrolls found at these sites attest to the medieval text of MT.
26
Because of its other features, this scroll is included in Table 27.1.
27
Thus P. J. Parsons, “The Scripts and Their Date,” in The Greek Minor Prophets Scroll from Naḥal Ḥever (8HevXIIgr), DJD
8 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990), 26. This elegant scroll was written by two scribes, who intervened very little in the text.
Its top margins (4.2–4.5 cm), bottom margins (3.8 cm), and intercolumnar margins (2.0–2.2 cm) are wide, the scroll was
written in a large format (forty-two lines), and it closely reflects MT (revision of the Old Greek translation to MT).
scrolls. This is not the case for the Qumran scrolls since Appendix 27.1 shows that several dated to
the Common Era do not fit the criteria for deluxe scrolls.
It is not impossible that the deluxe Scripture scrolls were of the so-called sefarim mugahim
(“corrected scrolls”) type that had been corrected according to the copy in the temple, as mentioned
in rabbinic literature.28 This would provide an answer to the question posed by George Brooke29
regarding the use of deluxe editions, illustrating an important aspect of writing culture.
Some characteristics of the luxury scrolls reflect the concerns of the rabbis and therefore they may
have derived from protorabbinic circles: a low level of scribal intervention,30 large top and bottom
margins, and intercolumnar margins as large as in some of the Judean Desert scrolls (excluding
Qumran) but usually larger.31
In sum, in this study I continue the analysis of the presumed deluxe scrolls, illustrating an
important aspect of the writing culture known from Greek sources. The main argument for the
existence of such scrolls is the presence of large top and bottom margins of more than 3.0 cm above
and below the writing block. Writing material was expensive and the fact that scroll manufacturers
left writing surface unused had a special significance in ancient times. Some remarkable facts
about the distribution of texts with large top and bottom margins come to light in the analysis of
Table 27.1.
Altogether, we identified thirty-five such texts among the Judean Desert texts, twenty at
Qumran and fifteen at the other sites. The large-margin texts are statistically much more frequent
at the Judean Desert sites (Masada, Murabba‘at”?>, Naḥal Ḥever, Naḥal Mishmar, Naḥal Ṣe’elim,
Wadi Sdeir) than at Qumran. Additional criteria for the recognition of deluxe scrolls are: large
intercolumnar margins, the use of a large writing block, careful scribal transmission, a late date,
and MT content in the Scripture scrolls. In many cases, all of these parameters are present, but
sometimes they are not. The deluxe format was used for authoritative scrolls, especially those
containing Scripture of Masoretic content, and this format may have been preferred by the circles
that transmitted this text.
28
See Tov, Textual Criticism, 30–1.
29
G. J. Brooke, “Scripture and Scriptural Tradition in Transmission: Light from the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in The Scrolls
and Biblical Traditions: Proceedings of the Seventh Meeting of the IOQS in Helsinki, ed. G. J. Brooke, D. K. Falk, E. J.
C. Tigchelaar, and M. M. Zahn (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 1–17 at 5–6.
30
According to Talmudic sources, the sacred character of the text allows for only a minimal number of corrections. The
opinions quoted in b. Menaḥ. 29b and y. Meg. 1.71c allow for two or three corrections per column (but not four), while the
opinions in Sop. 3.10 allow for one to three corrections. According to these opinions, scrolls containing a greater number
of corrections in a single column could not be used by the public, but b. Menaḥ. 29b states that there is a certain leniency
regarding superfluous letters, which were less disturbing when erased or deleted than were added letters.
31
Large bottom margins enabled easy handling of the scroll and, as such, they were prescribed for Scripture by rabbinic
sources; see b. Menaḥ. 30a (cf. Sefer Torah 2.4): The width of the bottom margin shall be one handbreadth <7.62 cm>
of the top margin, three fingerbreadths <4.56 cm> of the intercolumnar margin, and two fingerbreadths <3.04 cm> <in
all the books of Scripture>. In the books of the Torah, the bottom margin shall be three fingerbreadths <4.56 cm>, the
top margin two fingerbreadths <3.04 cm>, and the intercolumnar margin a thumbbreadth <2.0 cm>. Likewise, y. Meg.
1.71d and Sof. 2.5 prescribe two fingerbreadths <3.04 cm> above the text and three below <4.56 cm> for all the books
of Scripture, except the Torah.
APPENDIX 27.1 Qumran scrolls with margins less than 3.0 cm
This appendix shows that several ce scrolls were not in the nature of deluxe scrolls.
Top Margin Bottom Margin

a. Biblical Texts
4QPsq 2.0 – 30 bce–30 ce
4QProvb 1.6 – 30 bce–50 ce
11QPsa 1.7 – 1–50 ce
4QGenk – 2.0 1–30 ce
4QDanb 2.1 1.9 20–50 ce
8QPs 1.8 – 1–100 ce
4QIsac – 2.1+ 30–68 ce
4QPsh – 1.5 30 bce–70 ce
4QExodk 1.8 – 30–135 ce
b. Nonbiblical Texts
3QpIsa 2.2 – 30 bce–68 ce
4QPrayer of Enosh 1.4 – 30 bce–68 ce
4QComposition concerning Divine Providence 0.7 – 30 bce–68 ce
4QBarkhi Nafshid 1.2 1.2 30 bce–68 ce
5QNJ ar 1.6 1.6 30 bce–68 ce
1QpHab 2.0–2.6 – 1–50 ce
4QCommGen D 2.0 – 20–50 ce
4QMysta – 1.9–2.1 20–50 ce
4QapocrJosha 1.5 – 20–50 ce
11QSefer ha-Milḥamah – 3.0 30–50 ce
8QPs 1.8 – 1–100 ce
6QAllegory of the Vine – 1.4 1–100 ce
6QD – 1.0 1–100 ce
4QMystb 1.2 1.2 30–68 ce
4QBera 2.0 – 50 ce
APPENDIX 27.2 Top and bottom margins in literary papyrus texts
Top Margin Bottom Margin

4QpapToba ar (4Q196) 1.7 2.5
4QpapJubb? (4Q217) 1.3 –
4QpapSa (4Q255) 2.0–2.3 –
4QpapSc (4Q257) 2.0 –
4Qpap paraKings et al. (4Q382), frg. 110 3.5? (frg. 110) 2.6
4QpapHf (4Q432) 1.8–2.2+ –
4QpapHodayot-like Text B (4Q433a) 2.3+ –
4QpapBenedictions (4Q500) 1 2.1 –
4QpapRitMar (4Q502) 1.6
4QpapPrQuot (4Q503) 1.0–1.2 2.9
4QpapPrFêtesc (4Q509) 13 2.1 –
4QpapRitPur B (4Q512) 39 2.8 –
6QpapHymn (6Q18) 1.7 –
APPENDIX 27.3 Hebrew/aramaic scrolls of large dimensions that may have been deluxe editions
The purpose of this appendix is to record a control group for the data adduced above. The scrolls
listed here contain tall columns, but the other parameters of these scrolls are not characteristic of
deluxe scrolls regarding the size of their top and bottom margins. The data for scribal intervention
are indecisive.
Name No. of Lines Height (cm) Top Margin Bottom Aver. Lines b/w
(cm) Margin (cm) Corrs.
4QEnb ar (4Q202) 28, 29 30 – – –
4QInstrd (4Q418) ca. 29 – – – 30
1QSa 29 23.5 1.2-1.7 1.7+ –
4QPsq 29 23.6 2.0 – 22+
4QEnc ar (4Q204) 30 24 – 2.3 –
4QDeuth ca. 30 – – 2.0 16
4QNumb 30–32 30 1.9 2.6 38
11QPsd 32–34 – 1.8+ – 64+
4QNarr and Poetic 32+ 18.0+ – 1.0 –
Compb (4Q372) 1
1QIsab 35 23 1.7 – 55
4QIsae 35–40 – 2.0 2.6 58+
4QGen-Exoda ca. 36 – 1.7+ – 30
4QJubd (4Q219) 38 r – – 1.7 37
4QRPb (4Q364) 39–41 35.6–37.2 – 2.1 53
4QIsac ca. 40 30 – 2.1 28
4QIsag 40 35 1.6 – 26
4QEnastrb ar (4Q209) 40 (38–43?) – – 2.7 –
11QpaleoLeva 42 26–27+ – 2.0+ 66
4QLev-Numa ca. 43 35.2–37.2 1.8 2.2 36
4QIsab 45 29 2.3 – 13
4QExod-Levf ca. 60 30 1.3 1.2+ 57
5. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Cavallo, Guglielmo. Libri scritture scribi a Ercolano. Naples: Macchiaroli, 1983.
Davila, James R. Qumran Cave 4.VII: Genesis to Numbers. Edited by Eugene Ulrich and Frank Moore Cross.
DJD XII. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994. Repr., 1999.
Davis, Kipp. “High Quality Scrolls from the Post-Herodian Period.” Pages 129–38 in Gleanings from the
Caves: Dead Sea Scrolls and Artefacts from the Schøyen Collection. Edited by Torleif Elgvin, Kipp Davis,
and Michael Langlois. LSTS 71. London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2016.
García Martínez, Florentino. “Les manuscrits du Désert de Juda et le Deutéronome.” Pages 63–91 in Studies
in Deuteronomy, In Honour of C. J. Labuschagne on the Occasion of His 65th Birthday. Edited by
Florentino García Martínez, A. Hilhorst, J. T. A. G. M. van Ruiten, and A. S. van der Woude. VTSup 53.
Hartog. Pieter B. “Reading and Copying the Minor Prophets in the Late Second Temple Period.” Pages 411–
23 in The Books of the Twelve Prophets, Minor Prophets—Major Theologies. Edited by Heinz-Josef Fabry.
BETL 295. Leuven: Peeters, 2018.
Johnson, William Allen. Bookrolls and Scribes in Oxyrhynchus. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2004.
Lange, Armin. Handbuch der Textfunde vom Toten Meer. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009.
Nebe, G. Wilhelm. “Die Masada-Psalmen-Handschrift M1039-160 nach einem jüngst veröffentlichten Photo
mit Text von Psalm 81,2–85,6.” RevQ 14 (1989–90): 89–97.
Parsons, Peter J. “The Scripts and Their Date.” Pages 19–26 in The Greek Minor Prophets Scroll from Naḥal
Ḥever (8HevXIIgr). DJD VIII. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990.
Schubart, Wilhelm. Das Buch bei den Griechen und Römern. 2nd ed. Berlin: Gruyter, 1921.
Teeter, David Andrew. Scribal Laws: Exegetical Variation in the Textual Transmission of Biblical Law in the
Late Second Temple Period. FAT 92. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014.
Tigchelaar, Eibert J. C. “Notes on the Ezekiel Scroll from Masada (MasEzek).” RevQ 22 (2005–6): 269–75.
Tov, Emanuel. Revised Lists of the Texts from the Judaean Desert. Leiden: Brill, 2010.
Tov, Emanuel. Scribal Practices and Approaches Reflected in the Texts Found in the Judean Desert. STDJ 54.
Tov, Emanuel. Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible. 3rd ed., rev. and exp. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress
Press, 2012.
Webster, Brian. “Chronological Index.” Pages 351–446 in The Texts from the Judaean Desert: Indices and
an Introduction to the Discoveries in the Judaean Desert Series. Edited by Emanuel Tov. DJD XXXIX.
Yadin, Yigael. The Temple Scroll. 3 vols. Jerusalem: The Israel Exploration Society/The Institute of Archaeology
of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem/The Shrine of the Book, 1983.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Qumran Readings in Agreement

with the Septuagint against
the Masoretic Text. Part
Four: 2 Samuel
CORRADO MARTONE
As a follow-up to my previous contributions devoted to the Pentateuch, Joshua-Judges, and 1

Samuel,1 the present study aims to provide scholars with a tool that will allow for easy consultation
of the verses of 2 Samuel in agreement with the Septuagint against the Masoretic text as attested in
the manuscripts from Qumran. As noted,2 the list will hopefully cover the entire Bible in the (near)
future.
As in the previous studies,3 at the end of this contribution the reader will find the bibliographic
reference of the editiones principes of all of the quoted manuscripts as well as a brief
palaeographical description and the link to the PAM photo of each text in the Leon Levy DSS
Digital Library.4 On the other hand, the reader will need to refer to Henoch’s article for more
detailed bibliographic information5 as well as for the methodological assumptions underlying this
project.6
It is an honor and a pleasure to dedicate this chapter to James Charlesworth in gratitude for his contribution to Jewish
Studies, no less than for his friendship over the years.
1
C. Martone, “Qumran Readings in Agreement with the Septuagint against the Masoretic Text. Part One: The Pentateuch,”
Hen 27 (2005): 53–113; C. Martone, “Qumran Readings in Agreement with the Septuagint against the Masoretic Text. Part
Two: Joshua-Judges,” in Flores Florentino: Dead Sea Scrolls and Other Early Jewish Studies in Honour of Florentino García
Martínez, ed. Anthony Hilhorst, Emile Puech, and Eibert Tigchelaar; SJSJ 122 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 141–5; C. Martone,
“Qumran Readings In Agreement with the Septuagint against the Masoretic Text: Part Three: 1 Samuel,” RevQ 25.4 (100)
(2012): 557–73.
2
Martone, “Qumran Readings One,” 54.
3
Ibid., 108–13.
4
See https://www.deadseascrolls.org.il/home. All links checked on January 9, 2020.
5
As an addendum it is worth noting that a Biblia Qumranica series has been launched by Brill. The volume devoted to the
Minor Prophets has appeared so far: B. Ego, Armin Lange, Hermann Lichtenberger, and Kristin De Troyer, eds., Minor
Prophets, Biblia Qumranica 3 (Leiden: Brill, 2005). Moreover, Eugene Ulrich published a comprehensive transcription of
the evidence for each book of the Hebrew Bible in the Dead Sea Scrolls along with an apparatus for each variant reading: E.
C. Ulrich, The Biblical Qumran Scrolls: Transcriptions and Textual Variants, VTSup 134 (Leiden: Brill, 2010).
6
It should be recalled, however, that only the variant readings regarding the LXX are registered in the Textual Notes: other
variant readings, if any, though at the reader’s disposal, are not indicated in the Notes.
1. 2 SAMUEL 2:5
4Q51 f52a–b+537
‫ [עשיתם חסד האלוהים הז]ה על אדניכ[ם עם שאול‬2 ]‫אלי]הם ברוכים [אתם ליהוה אשר‬
֯ ‫ [אנשי יביש גלעד ויאמר‬5 2 1
‫ [ותקברו אתו‬3 ]‫משיח יהוה‬
καὶ ἀπέστειλεν Δαυιδ ἀγγέλους πρὸς τοὺς ἡγουμένους Ιαβις τῆς Γαλααδίτιδος καὶ εἶπεν πρὸς αὐτούς
εὐλογημένοι ὑμεῖς τῷ κυρίῳ ὅτι πεποιήκατε τὸ ἔλεος τοῦτο ἐπὶ τὸν κύριον ὑμῶν ἐπὶ Σαουλ τὸν
χριστὸν κυρίου καὶ ἐθάψατε αὐτὸν καὶ Ιωναθαν τὸν υἱὸν αὐτοῦ
‫יתם הַ ֶח֣סֶ ד הַ ֶּ֗זה עִ ם־אֲדֹֽ נֵיכֶם֙ עִ ם־ׁשָ ֔אּול‬
ֶ ֜ ‫ֲׁשר ע ֲִׂש‬ ֶ ֗ ‫וַּיִ ְׁשלַ ֤ח ּדָ וִ ד֙ מַ לְ אָ ֔ ִכים אֶ ל־אַ נְ ֵ ׁ֖שי י ֵָב֣יׁש ּגִ לְ עָ ֑ד ַו ּ֣י ֹאמֶ ר ֲאל‬
ֶ֙ ‫ֵיהם ּבְ רֻ ִ ֤כים אַ ּתֶ ם֙ ַ ֽליה ֔ ָוה א‬
‫ַו ִּֽתקְ ּבְ ֖רּו אֹ ֽתֹו‬
Textual Notes
‫ ⫽ על אדניכ[ם‬ἐπὶ τὸν κύριον ⟧ 𝔐 ֙‫עִ ם־אֲדֹֽ נֵיכֶם‬
2. 2 SAMUEL 2:7
4Q51 f52a–b+538
‫ [וגם אתי משחו בית יהודה ]עׂליהםׂ ל[מלך‬6 ]‫ [ועתה תחזקנה ידיכם ו]הׂיו לבני חילׂ[ כי מת אדניכם שאול‬7 5
καὶ νῦν κραταιούσθωσαν αἱ χεῖρες ὑμῶν καὶ γίνεσθε εἰς υἱοὺς δυνατούς ὅτι τέθνηκεν ὁ κύριος ὑμῶν
Σαουλ καί γε ἐμὲ κέχρικεν ὁ οἶκος Ιουδα ἐφ᾽ ἑαυτοὺς εἰς βασιλέα
‫ֵיהם‬
ֽ ֶ ‫הּודה לְ ֶ ֖מלְֶך ֲעל‬
֛ ָ ְ‫י־מת אֲדֹ נֵיכֶ ֣ם ׁשָ ֑אּול וְ גַם־אֹ ֗ ִתי מָ ְׁש ֧חּו בֵ ית־י‬
֖ ֵ ִ‫ֵי־חיִ לּכ‬
ַ ֔ ‫וְ ע ָ ַּ֣תה׀ּתֶ חֱזַ �֣קְ נָה יְ דֵ י ֶ֗כם ִ ֽוהְ יּו֙ לִ בְ נ‬
Textual Notes
‫ ⫽ עׂליהםׂ ל[מלך‬ἐϕ᾽ ἑαυτοὺς εἰς βασιλέα ⟧ 𝔐 ‫ֵיהם‬
ֽ ֶ ‫הּודהלְ ֶ ֖מלְֶך ֲעל‬
֛ ָ ְ‫⫽ בֵ ית־י‬
3. 2 SAMUEL 3:3
4Q51 f55–57a–b+589
‫בת תלמי מלך ג֯ שור‬
֯ ‫ בן מעכה‬9 ‫ו]השלישי אבשלום‬
֯ ‫ ו֯ ֯משנה ודלי֯ [ה] לאביגיל ֯ה[כרמלית‬3 ‫ היזרעלית‬2 8
καὶ ὁ δεύτερος αὐτοῦ Δαλουια τῆς Αβιγαιας τῆς Καρμηλίας καὶ ὁ τρίτος Αβεσσαλωμ υἱὸς Μααχα
θυγατρὸς Θολμι βασιλέως Γεσιρ
‫ּומ ְׁשנֵ ֣ה ּוכִ לְ ֔ ָאב ַלאֲֽבִ י ֕ ַגיִל ֵ ֖אׁשֶ ת נ ָָב֣ל ַ ֽהּכ ְַר ְמ ִל֑י וְ הַ ְּׁשלִ ִׁשי֙ אַ בְ ׁשָ ל֣ ֹום ֶ ּֽבן־מַ ֲע ָ֔כה ּבַ ת־ּתַ לְ ַמ֖י ֶ ֥מלְֶך ּגְ ֽׁשּור‬
ִ
Textual Notes
‫ ⫽ ]דלי֯ [ה‬Δαλουια ⟧ 𝔐 ‫כִ לְ ֔ ָאב‬
7
DJD 17:104; PAM 43.125 (https://www.deadseascrolls.org.il/explore-the-archive/image/B-284929).
8
Ibid.
9
Qumran Readings in Agreement with Septuagint 435
4. 2 SAMUEL 3:7
4Q51 f55–57a–b+5810
‫מדוע ֯ב ֯א ֯ת ֯ה אׂל פי[לגש אבי‬
֯ ׂ‫ שאׂול אׂלׂ אבׂנ֯ ר‬14 ]‫ ולשאול פילגש רׂצפהׂ[ בת איה ויאמר מפיבשת בן‬7 ‫ בׂבית שאוׂל‬6 13
καὶ τῷ Σαουλ παλλακὴ Ρεσφα θυγάτηρ Ιαλ καὶ εἶπεν Μεμφιβοσθε υἱὸς Σαουλ πρὸς Αβεννηρ τί ὅτι
εἰσῆλθες πρὸς τὴν παλλακὴν τοῦ πατρός μου
‫ּוׁש ָמּ֖ה ִרצְ ּפָ ֣ה בַ ת־אַ ּיָ ֑ה ַו ּ֙י ֹאמֶ ר֙ אֶ ל־אַ בְ ֵ֔נר מַ ּ֥דּו ַע ָּב֖אתָ ה אֶ ל־ּפִ ילֶ ֥ גֶׁש אָ ִ ֽבי‬
ְ ‫ּולְ ׁשָ ֣אּולּפִ ֶל גֶׁש‬
Textual Notes
ׂ‫ ⫽ פילגש רׂצפה‬παλλακὴ Ρεσφα ⟧ 𝔐 ‫ּוׁש ָ ֖מּה ִרצְ ּפָ ֣ה‬
ְ ‫⫽ ּפִ ֶ֔לגֶׁש‬
‫ ⫽ שאׂול‬Σαουλ ⟧ > 𝔐 ⫽
5. 2 SAMUEL 3:8
4Q51 f55–57a–b+5811
‫ [חסד עם בית שאול‬16 ]‫ [מפיבשת ]וׂיאמׂר לו ֯ה[ראש כלב אנכי אשר ליהודה היום אעשה‬15 ]‫ ויחר לאבנר מאד על דבר‬8 14
‫ [דויד ותפקד עלי עון האשה היום‬17 ]‫אביך אל אחיו ואל מרעהו ולוא המציתך ביד‬
καὶ ἐθυμώθη σφόδρα Αβεννηρ περὶ τοῦ λόγου Μεμφιβοσθε καὶ εἶπεν Αβεννηρ πρὸς αὐτόν μὴ κεφαλὴ
κυνὸς ἐγώ εἰμι ἐποίησα ἔλεος σήμερον μετὰ τοῦ οἴκου Σαουλ τοῦ πατρός σου καὶ περὶ ἀδελφῶν καὶ
γνωρίμων καὶ οὐκ ηὐτομόλησα εἰς τὸν οἶκον Δαυιδ καὶ ἐπιζητεῖς ἐπ᾽ ἐμὲ ὑπὲρ ἀδικίας γυναικὸς σήμερον
֙‫ם־ּב֣ית׀ׁשָ ֣אּול אָ ִ֗ביָךאֶ ל־אֶ חָ יו‬
ֵ ִ‫ה־חסֶ ד ע‬
ֶ ֜ ֶ‫ֲׁשר ִ ֽליהּודָ ֒ה הַ ּי֙ ֹום ֶ ֽאעֱׂש‬
֣ ֶ ‫יׁש־ּבׁשֶ ת ַו ּ֙י ֹאמֶ ר֙ ֲה ֙ר ֹאש ּׁכֶ ֥ לֶב אָ ֹ֨נכִ י֘ א‬ ִ ‫וַּיִ חַ ר לְ אַ בְ ֵ֙נר ְמ ֜ ֹאד ע‬
ֹ ֗ ‫ַל־ּדבְ ֵ ֣רי ִ ֽא‬
‫יתָך ּבְ יַד־ּדָ ִ ֑וד ו ִַּתפְ קֹ֥ ד עָלַ ֛י עֲֹו֥ ן הָ ִא ָ ּׁ֖שה הַ ּיֽ ֹום‬
֖ ִ ִ‫ל־מ ֵר ֵ֔עהּו וְ ֥ל ֹא הִ ְמצ‬
֣ ֵ ֶ‫וְ א‬
Textual Notes
‫ ⫽ לו‬πρὸς αὐτόν ⟧ > 𝔐
6. 2 SAMUEL 3:23
4Q51 f61i+6212
‫ בן נר אל דויד וישלחהו וילךך [בשלום‬23 1
καὶ Ιωαβ καὶ πᾶσα ἡ στρατιὰ αὐτοῦ ἤχθησαν καὶ ἀπηγγέλη τῷ Ιωαβ λέγοντες ἥκει Αβεννηρ υἱὸς Νηρ
πρὸς Δαυιδ καὶ ἀπέσταλκεν αὐτὸν καὶ ἀπῆλθεν ἐν εἰρήνῃ
‫ר־א ּ֖תֹו ָּב֑אּו ַוּי ִַּג֤דּו לְ יֹואָ ב֙ לֵאמֹ֔ ר ָ ּֽבא־אַ בְ נֵ ֤ר ּבֶ ן־נֵר֙ אֶ ל־הַ ֔ ֶּמלְֶך וַ�ֽיְ ׁשַ ּלְ ֵח֖הּו וַּיֵ ֥לְֶך ּבְ ׁשָ לֽ ֹום‬
ִ ֶ‫יֹואב וְ כָל־הַ ּצָ ָב֥א אֲׁש‬
֛ ָ ְ‫ו‬
Textual Notes
‫ ⫽ אל דויד‬πρὸς Δαυιδ ⟧ > 𝔐
10
Ibid.
11
Ibid.
12
7. 2 SAMUEL 3:29
4Q51 f61i+6213
‫מבית יואב זב וׂמצרעו‬
֯ ‫ בית יואב ו֯ ֯לו֯ ֯א יכרת‬10 ]‫יואב ועל כׂ[ול‬
֯ ‫על [ר]אש‬
֯ ‫י]חול‬
֯ 29 ‫ מעם יהוה עד עולם ודם [אבנר‬28 9
‫ בחרב ו֯ ֯חסר לחם‬11 ‫֯מ ֯חז֯ [יק ב]פלך ונופל‬
καταντησάτωσαν ἐπὶ κεφαλὴν Ιωαβ καὶ ἐπὶ πάντα τὸν οἶκον τοῦ πατρὸς αὐτοῦ καὶ μὴ ἐκλίποι ἐκ τοῦ
οἴκου Ιωαβ γονορρυὴς καὶ λεπρὸς καὶ κρατῶν σκυτάλης καὶ πίπτων ἐν ῥομφαίᾳ καὶ ἐλασσούμενος ἄρτοις
‫ר־לחֶ ם‬
ֽ ָ ַ‫ּומצֹ ָ ֞רע ּומַ חֲזִ ֥יק ּבַ ּפֶ ֛ לְֶך וְ נֹ פֵ ֥ל ּבַ ֶח ֶ֖רב ַוחֲס‬
ְ ‫יֹואב ֠ ָזב‬
ָ ֡ ‫ָל־ּב֣ית אָ ִ ֑ביו ְ ֽואַ ל־יִ ּכ ֵ ָ֣רת ִמ ֵּב֣ית‬
ֵ ‫יֹואבוְ ֶ ֖אל ּכ‬
ָ ֔ ‫ָי ֻחלּ֙ו֙ עַל־ ֣ר ֹאׁש‬
Textual Notes
‫ ⫽ ועל‬καὶ ἐπὶ ⟧ 𝔐 ‫וְ ֶ ֖אל‬
8. 2 SAMUEL 3:33
4Q51 f61i+6214
‫נ]בל ימות אבנר‬
֯ ‫ ֯הכׂמו֯ [ת‬17 ‫ [ויקנן המלך] עׂל אבנר ויאמר‬33 ‫ [על קבר א]בׂנר ויבכו כל העם‬32 16
καὶ ἐθρήνησεν ὁ βασιλεὺς ἐπὶ Αβεννηρ καὶ εἶπεν εἰ κατὰ τὸν θάνατον Ναβαλ ἀποθανεῖται Αβεννηρ
‫ֹאמר הַ ּכְ ֥מֹות נ ָָב֖ל י ָ֥מּות אַ בְ ֵנֽר‬
֑ ַ ‫וַיְ קֹ נֵ �֥ן הַ ֶ ּ֛מלְֶך אֶ ל־אַ בְ נֵ ֖ר ַוּי‬
Textual Notes
‫ ⫽ עׂל‬ἐπὶ ⟧ 𝔐 ‫אֶ ל‬
9. 2 SAMUEL 4:1
4Q51 f61i+6215
‫ [וכו]ל י֯ ֯ש[ראל נבהלו‬28 ‫מ]ת א[ב]נר בחברון ו֯ י֯ ֯ר ֯פו֯ ידיו‬
֯ ‫מפיב[ש]ת ֯ב[ן שאול כי‬
֯ ‫ [וי]שמע‬1 4 27
καὶ ἤκουσεν Μεμφιβοσθε υἱὸς Σαουλ ὅτι τέθνηκεν Αβεννηρ ἐν Χεβρων καὶ ἐξελύθησαν αἱ χεῖρες
αὐτοῦ καὶ πάντες οἱ ἄνδρες Ισραηλ παρείθησαν
‫וַּיִ ְׁש ַ ֣מע ּבֶ ן־ׁשָ ֗אּול ִ ּ֣כי ֵ ֤מת אַ בְ נֵר֙ ּבְ חֶ בְ ֔רֹון וַּיִ ְר ּ֖פּו י ָ ָ֑דיו וְ כָל־יִ ְׂש ָר ֵ ֖אל נִ בְ ָ ֽהלּו‬
Textual Notes
‫מפיב[ש]ת‬
֯ ⫽ Μεμφιβοσθε ⟧> 𝔐
13
Ibid.
14
Ibid.
15
10. 2 SAMUEL 4:2

4Q51 f61i+6216
]‫בנימ[ין‬
֯ ‫הבארתי מבני‬
֯ ‫ [בענה ושם השני רכב] בני רמון‬30 ‫ [ושני אנשים שרי גדודי]ם למפיבשת ֯בן֯ שאול ׂש[ם הא]חד‬2 29
‫ [בארות תחשב] ֯ע ֯ל בנימי[ן‬31 ‫כ֯ י֯ גם‬
καὶ δύο ἄνδρες ἡγούμενοι συστρεμμάτων τῷ Μεμφιβοσθε υἱῷ Σαουλ ὄνομα τῷ ἑνὶ Βαανα καὶ ὄνομα
τῷ δευτέρῳ Ρηχαβ υἱοὶ Ρεμμων τοῦ Βηρωθαίου ἐκ τῶν υἱῶν Βενιαμιν ὅτι Βηρωθ ἐλογίζετο τοῖς υἱοῖς
Βενιαμιν
‫דּודים הָ י֪ ּו בֶ ן־ׁשָ ֟אּול ׁשֵ ֩ם הָ אֶ ָ֙חד ַ ּֽב ֲע ָ֜נה וְ ֵ ׁ֧שם הַ ּׁשֵ ִנ֣י ֵר ָ֗כב ּבְ נֵ ֛י ִר ּ֥מֹון הַ ּבְ ֶ ֽארֹ ִ ֖תי ִמּבְ נֵ ֣י בִ נְ י ִ ָ֑מן ֚ ִּכי ּגַם־ּבְ אֵ ֔רֹות ּתֵ חָ ֵ ׁ֖שב‬
֣ ִ ְ‫ּוׁשנֵ ֣י ֲאנ ִ ָׁ֣שים ׂשָ ֵ ֽרי־ג‬
ְ
‫עַל־ּבִ נְ י ִ ָֽמן‬
Textual Notes
‫ ⫽ למפיבשת‬τῷ Μεμφιβοσθε ⟧ > 𝔐 ⫽
11. 2 SAMUEL 4:12

4Q51 f61ii+63–64a–b+65–67
‫ר]אש מפיבשת‬
֯ ‫ [ויתלום על הב]רכה בחבׂ[רון ואת‬7 ]‫ויק]צצו את ידיהם ואתׂ[ רגליהם‬
֯ ‫ ו֯ י֯ [צו דויד את] ֯הנערים[ ויהרגום‬12 6
‫ [בקבר אבנר בן ]נר בח[ברון‬8 ]‫לקח וׂ[יקבר‬
καὶ ἐνετείλατο Δαυιδ τοῖς παιδαρίοις αὐτοῦ καὶ ἀποκτέννουσιν αὐτοὺς καὶ κολοβοῦσιν τὰς χεῖρας
αὐτῶν καὶ τοὺς πόδας αὐτῶν καὶ ἐκρέμασαν αὐτοὺς ἐπὶ τῆς κρήνης ἐν Χεβρων καὶ τὴν κεφαλὴν
Μεμφιβοσθε ἔθαψαν ἐν τῷ τάφῳ Αβεννηρ υἱοῦ Νηρ
‫ֵיהם וַּיִ ְתל֥ ּו עַל־הַ ּבְ ֵרכָ ֖ה ּבְ חֶ בְ ֑רֹון וְ ֵ֙את ֤ר ֹאׁש ִ ֽאיׁש־ּבֹׁ֙שֶ ת֙ לָקָ֔ חּו וַּיִ קְ ּבְ ֥רּו‬
ֶ ֔ ‫ת־רגְ ל‬
ַ ֶ‫וַיְ צַ ֩ו ּדָ ִ֙וד אֶ ת־הַ ּנְ ע ִ ָ֜רים ַוּיַהַ ְרג֗ ּום וַ�ֽיְ קַ ּצְ ֤צּו אֶ ת־יְ דֵ יהֶ ם֙ וְ א‬
‫בְ ֶ ֽקבֶ ר־אַ בְ נֵ ֖ר ּבְ חֶ בְ ֽרֹון‬
Textual Notes
‫ ⫽ מפיבשת‬Μεμφιβοσθε ⟧ 𝔐 ֙‫ִ ֽאיׁש־ּבֹׁ֙שֶ ת‬
12. 2 SAMUEL 5:8

4Q51 f61ii+63–64a–b+65–67
]‫ׂ[פסחי]ם שנאה נפש דוׂיׂד [על‬
֯ ‫ ה‬19 ]‫[י]בו֯ סי יגע בצנור ו֯ ֯את הע[ורים ואת‬
֯ ‫]ביום ההוא כו֯ ֯ל[ מ]כה‬
֯ ‫ ד[ויד‬18 ]‫ ויאמר‬8 17
]‫כן יאמרו עור ופסח לוא [יבוא אל הבית‬
καὶ εἶπεν Δαυιδ τῇ ἡμέρᾳ ἐκείνῃ πᾶς τύπτων Ιεβουσαῖον ἁπτέσθω ἐν παραξιφίδι καὶ τοὺς χωλοὺς
καὶ τοὺς τυφλοὺς καὶ τοὺς μισοῦντας τὴν ψυχὴν Δαυιδ διὰ τοῦτο ἐροῦσιν τυφλοὶ καὶ χωλοὶ οὐκ
εἰσελεύσονται εἰς οἶκον κυρίου
‫אמ ֔רּו עִ ּוֵ ֣ר ּופִ ֔ ֵּסחַ ֥ל ֹא י ָ֖בֹוא‬
ְ ֹ ‫ת־ה֣עִ וְ ִ ֔רים ְׂשנ ֵ ֻ֖אי נֶ ֣פֶׁש ּדָ ִ ֑וד עַל־ּכֵן֙ ֽי‬
ַ ֶ‫ַו ּ֙י ֹאמֶ ר ּדָ ִ֜ו דּבַ ּי֣ ֹום הַ ֗הּוא ּכָל־מַ ּכֵ ֤ה יְ ב ִֻסי֙ וְ יִ ּגַ ֣ע ּבַ ּצִ ּנ֔ ֹור וְ אֶ ת־הַ ּפִ ְסחִ ים֙ וְ א‬
‫אֶ ל־הַ ָ ּֽביִ ת‬
16
Ibid.
Textual Notes
‫ׂ[פסחי]ם‬
֯ ‫ ⫽ ו֯ ֯את הע[ורים ואת] ה‬τυφλοὶ καὶ χωλοὶ ⟧ 𝔐 ‫ת־ה֣עִ וְ ִ ֔רים‬
ַ ֶ‫וְ אֶ ת־הַ ּפִ ְסחִ ים֙ וְ א‬
13. 2 SAMUEL 5:9

4Q51 f61ii+63–64a–b+65–6717
ׂ‫ המלוא וביתה‬21 ]‫]לה עיר דויד ויבנה עיר [סביב מן‬
֯ ‫ויקר[א‬
֯ ‫ וי ׂ֯שב דויד ֯במצדה‬9 20
καὶ ἐκάθισεν Δαυιδ ἐν τῇ περιοχῇ καὶ ἐκλήθη αὕτη ἡ πόλις Δαυιδ καὶ ᾠκοδόμησεν τὴν πόλιν κύκλῳ
ἀπὸ τῆς ἄκρας καὶ τὸν οἶκον αὐτοῦ
‫ּדָ וִ ד֙ ּבַ ְּמצ ֔ ָֻדה וַּיִ קְ ָרא־לָ ּ֖ה ִ ֣עיר ּדָ ִ ֑וד ו ִַּי֤בֶ ן ּדָ וִ ד֙ סָ ִ֔ביב ִמן־הַ ִּמּל֖ ֹוא ו ָ ָֽביְ תָ ה‬
Textual Notes
‫ ⫽ ויבנה עיר‬καὶ ᾠκοδόμησεν τὴν πόλιν ⟧ 𝔐 ֙‫ו ִַּי֤בֶ ןּדָ וִ ד‬
14. 2 SAMUEL 5:10

4Q51 f61ii+63–64a–b+65–6718
‫ [ו]י֯ לךדויד֯ [ הלוך וג]דל ויהוה צבאׂות עמׂו‬10 ׂ‫ המלוא וביתה‬9 21
καὶ ἐπορεύετο Δαυιδ πορευόμενος καὶ μεγαλυνόμενος καὶ κύριος παντοκράτωρ μετ᾽ αὐτοῦ
‫ֱֹלה֥י צְ בָ ֖אֹות עִ ּֽמֹו‬
ֵ ‫וַּיֵ ֥לְֶך ּדָ ִ ֖וד הָ ל֣ ֹוְך וְ ג ָ֑דֹול וַיהוָ ֛ה א‬
Textual Notes
‫ ⫽ ויהוה צבאׂות‬καὶ κύριος παντοκράτωρ ⟧ 𝔐 ‫ֱֹלה֥י צְ בָ ֖אֹות‬
ֵ ‫וַיהוָ ֛ה א‬
15. 2 SAMUEL 6:5

4Q51 f68–7619
‫שירים ובכנורות‬
֯ ‫[ו]ב‬
֯ ‫ [יהוה ב]כ֯ ו֯ ֯ל עז‬6 ]‫ו]בני ישראל ֯מ ֯ש[חקים] ל[פני‬
֯ ‫ ודויד‬5 ‫]ארון [יהוה‬
֯ ‫ [יהוה ואחיו הלך לפני‬4 5
‫ [ובנבלי]ם‬7 ‫[נענ]עים‬
֯ ‫ובמ‬
֯ ‫ו[בחללים] ובתפים‬
καὶ Δαυιδ καὶ οἱ υἱοὶ Ισραηλ παίζοντες ἐνώπιον κυρίου ἐν ὀργάνοις ἡρμοσμένοις ἐν ἰσχύι καὶ ἐν ᾠδαῖς
καὶ ἐν κινύραις καὶ ἐν νάβλαις καὶ ἐν τυμπάνοις καὶ ἐν κυμβάλοις καὶ ἐν αὐλοῖς
‫רֹוׁשים ּובְ כִ ּנֹ ֤רֹות ּובִ נְ בָ לִ ים֙ ּובְ תֻ ֔ ִּפים ּובִ ְמ ַ ֽנעַנְ ִ ֖עים ּוֽ בְ צֶ לְ צֶ ִ ֽלים‬
֑ ִ ְ‫ָל־ּב֣ית יִ ְׂש ָר ֗ ֵאל ְמ ַ ֽׂשחֲקִ ים֙ לִ פְ נֵ ֣י יְ ה ֔ ָוה ּבְ ֖ ֹכל ע ֲֵצ֣י ב‬
ֵ ‫וְ דָ ִ ֣וד׀וְ כ‬
Textual Notes
֯ ⫽ καὶ οἱ υἱοὶ Ισραηλ ⟧ 𝔐 ‫ָל־ּב֣יתיִ ְׂש ָר ֗ ֵאל‬
‫ו]בני ישראל‬ ֵ ‫וְ כ‬
17
18
Ibid.
19
16. 2 SAMUEL 6:6

4Q51 f68–7620
‫ש]מטו ֯הבקר‬
֯ ‫ [בו ]כ֯ [י‬8 ]‫ׂיבאו֯ עד ג[רן] נודן וישלחׂ עזא [את] י֯ דו אל ארון ֯ה ֯אל[וה]י֯ ם[ לאחז‬
֯ ‫ ו‬6 ‫ [ובנבלי]ם‬5 7
καὶ παραγίνονται ἕως ἅλω Νωδαβ καὶ ἐξέτεινεν Οζα τὴν χεῖρα αὐτοῦ ἐπὶ τὴν κιβωτὸν τοῦ θεοῦ
κατασχεῖν αὐτὴν καὶ ἐκράτησεν αὐτήν ὅτι περιέσπασεν αὐτὴν ὁ μόσχος τοῦ κατασχεῖν αὐτήν
‫ַד־ּג ֶרן נָכ֑ ֹון וַּיִ ְׁש ַ֙לח ֻע ָּ֜זא אֶ ל־א ֲ֤רֹון ָ ֽהאֱֹלהִ ים֙ ַו ּ֣י ֹאחֶ ז ּ֔בֹו ִ ּ֥כי ׁשָ ְמ ֖טּו הַ ּבָ ָ ֽקר‬
ֹ ֣ ‫ַוּיָבֹ֖ אּו ע‬
Textual Notes
‫ ⫽ נודן‬Νωδαβ ⟧ 𝔐 ‫נָכ֑ ֹון‬
‫ ⫽ י֯ דו‬τὴν χεῖρα αὐτοῦ ⟧ > 𝔐
17. 2 SAMUEL 7:23

4Q51 f78–7921
]‫ אלו[הים לפדות לו לעם לשום לך שם ולע‬2 ]‫ ומי כעמך כישראל גוי אחר בארץ אשר הוליך אתו‬23 ‫ ׂש[מענו באזנינו‬22 1
‫ מפנ[י עמך אשר פדית לך ממצרים גויםם] ואהלים‬3 ]‫שות ג֯ [דלות ונוראות לגרש‬
καὶ τίς ὡς ὁ λαός σου Ισραηλ ἔθνος ἄλλο ἐν τῇ γῇ ὡς ὡδήγησεν αὐτὸν ὁ θεὸς τοῦ λυτρώσασθαι αὐτῷ
λαὸν τοῦ θέσθαι σε ὄνομα τοῦ ποιῆσαι μεγαλωσύνην καὶ ἐπιφάνειαν τοῦ ἐκβαλεῖν σε ἐκ προσώπου
τοῦ λαοῦ σου οὗ ἐλυτρώσω σεαυτῷ ἐξ Αἰγύπτου ἔθνη καὶ σκηνώματα
‫ֲׁשר הָ לְ כֽ ּו־ ֠ ֱאֹלהִ ים לִ פְ ּֽדֹות־לֹ֙ו לְ ָ֜עם וְ ל ָׂ֧שּום ל֣ ֹו ׁשֵ֗ ם וְ ַלע ֲׂ֙שֹות ָל ֶ֜כם הַ ּגְ דּוּלָ ֤ה וְ ֽ ֹנ ָראֹות֙ לְ אַ ְר ֔ ֶצָך ִמּפְ נֵ ֣י‬
֣ ֶ ‫ּומי כְ ע ְַּמָך֙ ּכְ יִ ְׂש ָר ֔ ֵאל ּג֥ ֹוי אֶ ָח֖ד ּבָ ָ ֑א ֶרץ א‬
ִ֤
‫ֵאֹלהיו׃‬
ֽ ָ ‫ּגֹוי֖ם ו‬
ִ ‫ֲׁשר ּפ ִ ָ֤דיתָ ּלְ ָך֙ ִמ ִּמצְ ַ ֔ריִ ם‬ ֶ֙ ‫ע ְַּמ ָ֗ך א‬
Textual Notes
‫ ⫽ ואהלים‬καὶ σκηνώματα ⟧ 𝔐 ‫ֵאֹלהיו‬
ָֽ ‫ו‬
18. 2 SAMUEL 8:7

4Q51 f80–8322
] [‫ירוש]ל[י]ם גם‬
֯ ‫ [על עבדי הדדעזר ויביאם‬11 ]‫ וי]קׂחדוידׂ אׂ[ת שלטי הזהב אשר היו‬7 ‫ [את דויד בכול אשר הלך׃‬6 10
‫יר[ושלים] בימי רחבעם בן שלו[מה‬
֯ ‫ב]ע ֯לותו אל‬
֯ ‫ [מלך מצרים‬12 ]‫אׂותם ל[קח אחר שושק‬
καὶ ἔλαβεν Δαυιδ τοὺς χλιδῶνας τοὺς χρυσοῦς οἳ ἦσαν ἐπὶ τῶν παίδων τῶν Αδρααζαρ βασιλέως Σουβα
καὶ ἤνεγκεν αὐτὰ εἰς Ιερουσαλημ καὶ ἔλαβεν αὐτὰ Σουσακιμ βασιλεὺς Αἰγύπτου ἐν τῷ ἀναβῆναι
αὐτὸν εἰς Ιερουσαλημ ἐν ἡμέραις Ροβοαμ υἱοῦ Σολομῶντος
‫יאם יְ רּוׁשָ ָ ֽל ִם‬ ֣ ֶ ‫וַּיִ ַ ּ֣קחּדָ ִ֗וד אֵ֚ ת ִׁשלְ ֵ ֣טי הַ ּז ֔ ָָהב א‬
֖ ֵ ִ‫ֲׁשר הָ י֔ ּו ֶ ֖אל עַבְ ֵ ֣די הֲדַ ְדעָ ֑ זֶר וַיְ ב‬
20
Ibid.
21
22
Textual Notes
‫יר[ושלים] בימי רחבעם בן שלו[מה‬
֯ ‫ב]ע ֯לותו אל‬
֯ ‫ ⫽ גם[ ]‌אׂותם ל[קח אחר שושק מלך מצרים‬καὶ ἔλαβεν αὐτὰ Σουσακιμ
βασιλεὺς Αἰγύπτου ἐν τῷ ἀναβῆναι αὐτὸν εἰς Ιερουσαλημ ἐν ἡμέραις Ροβοαμ υἱοῦ Σολομῶντος ⟧ > 𝔐
19. 2 SAMUEL 12:16

4Q51 f100–10123
‫ [דוי]ד מן האלוהים בעד֯ הנער‬3 ‫ויבקש‬
֯ 16
‫ [נתן ]אל בי֯ ֯תו ויגוף אלוהים את [הילד א]שר ילד[ה אש]ת אוריה לדויד׃‬15 2
‫ויב[ו]א וישכב בשק ארצה‬
֯ ֯‫ויׂ[צם דוי]ד‬
καὶ ἐζήτησεν Δαυιδ τὸν θεὸν περὶ τοῦ παιδαρίου καὶ ἐνήστευσεν Δαυιδ νηστείαν καὶ εἰσῆλθεν καὶ
ηὐλίσθη ἐν σάκκῳ ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς
‫ּוב֥א וְ לָ ֖ן וְ ׁשָ כַ ֥ב ָ ֽא ְרצָ ה‬
ָ ‫ֱֹלהים ּבְ עַ ֣ד הַ ּנָ ֑עַר וַּיָ ֤צָ ם ּדָ וִ ד֙ ֔צֹום‬
֖ ִ ‫וַיְ בַ ֵ ּ֥קׁש ּדָ ִ ֛וד אֶ ת־הָ א‬
Textual Notes
‫ ⫽ וישכב בשק ארצה‬καὶ ηὐλίσθη ἐν σάκκῳ ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς ⟧ 𝔐 ‫וְ לָ ֖ן וְ ׁשָ כַ ֥ב ָ ֽא ְרצָ ה‬
20. 2 SAMUEL 13:21

4Q51 f102ii+103–106i+107–109a–b24
‫ [הדברים האלה ויחר לו מאד‬13 ]‫ והמלך דויד] שמע אתׂ [כול‬21 ‫ [לדבר הזה ותשב תמר שוממה בית אבשלום אחיה׃‬20 12
‫ [הוא‬14 ]‫ולוא עצב את רוח אמנון בנו כי אה]בו כי בכור[ו‬
καὶ ἤκουσεν ὁ βασιλεὺς Δαυιδ πάντας τοὺς λόγους τούτους καὶ ἐθυμώθη σφόδρα καὶ οὐκ ἐλύπησεν
τὸ πνεῦμα Αμνων τοῦ υἱοῦ αὐτοῦ ὅτι ἠγάπα αὐτόν ὅτι πρωτότοκος αὐτοῦ ἦν
‫וְ הַ ֶ ּ֣מלְֶך ּדָ ִ֔וד ׁשָ ֕ ַמע ֵ ֥את ּכָל־הַ ְּדבָ ִ ֖רים הָ ֵ ֑אּלֶה ו ִַּי֥חַ ר ל֖ ֹו ְמאֹֽ ד‬
Textual Notes
‫ ⫽ בכור[ו‬πρωτότοκος αὐτοῦ ⟧ > 𝔐
21. 2 SAMUEL 13:39

4Q51 f102ii+103–106i+107–109a–b25
]‫[נ]ח ֯ם א[ל אמנון בנו כי מת‬
֯ ‫לצ[את אל אב]שלום כי‬
֯ ‫ [ותכל רו]ח המלך‬39 40
καὶ ἐκόπασεν τὸ πνεῦμα τοῦ βασιλέως τοῦ ἐξελθεῖν ὀπίσω Αβεσσαλωμ ὅτι παρεκλήθη ἐπὶ Αμνων ὅτι
ἀπέθανεν
‫י־מת‬
ֽ ֵ ‫ו ְַּת ַכ ֙ל ּדָ ִ ֣וד הַ ֔ ֶּמלְֶך ל ֵָצ֖את אֶ ל־אַ בְ ׁשָ ל֑ ֹום ִ ּֽכי־נִ ַח֥ם עַל־אַ ְמנ֖ ֹון ִ ּֽכ‬
23
24
25
Ibid.
Textual Notes
‫ ⫽ רו]ח המלך‬τὸ πνεῦμα τοῦ βασιλέως ⟧ 𝔐 ‫ּדָ ִ ֣וד הַ ֔ ֶּמלְֶך‬
22. 2 SAMUEL 14:30

4Q53 f5ii–7i26
‫ו]הציתוה באש‬
֯ ‫ׂשערים [לכו‬֯ 13 ‫ ^וי^אומר על עבדי[ו ראו חלקת יואב ]על יׂ[די ו]לוא שם‬30 ‫ ו֯ לׂ[וא] אׂב ׂ֯ה[ לבו]א‬29 12
15 ‫ [ויבואו י]לדי יואב אלו קרוׂעי ב[גדיהם ויאומרו הציתו עב]ד֯ י אבשלום‬14 ‫ויצי[תו עבדי אבשל]ו֯ ם[ את החלקה בא]ש‬
‫ה]חלקה באש‬
֯ [‫֯א ֯ת‬
καὶ εἶπεν Αβεσσαλωμ πρὸς τοὺς παῖδας αὐτοῦ ἴδετε ἡ μερὶς ἐν ἀγρῷ τοῦ Ιωαβ ἐχόμενά μου καὶ αὐτῷ
κριθαὶ ἐκεῖ πορεύεσθε καὶ ἐμπρήσατε αὐτὴν ἐν πυρί καὶ ἐνέπρησαν αὐτὰς οἱ παῖδες Αβεσσαλωμ καὶ
παραγίνονται οἱ δοῦλοι Ιωαβ πρὸς αὐτὸν διερρηχότες τὰ ἱμάτια αὐτῶν καὶ εἶπαν ἐνεπύρισαν οἱ δοῦλοι
Αβεσσαλωμ τὴν μερίδα ἐν πυρί
‫לֹו־ׁשם ְׂשעֹ ִ ֔רים לְ כ֖ ּו וְ הַ ּצִ ֣יתּוהָ בָ ֵ ֑אׁש ַוּי ֜ ִַּצתּו עַבְ ֵ ֧די אַ בְ ׁשָ ל֛ ֹום אֶ ת־הַ חֶ לְ ָ ֖קה ּבָ ֵ ֽאׁש‬
ָ֣ ְ‫יֹואב אֶ ל־י ִָדי֙ ו‬
֤ ָ ‫ַו ּ֙י ֹאמֶ ר אֶ ל־עֲבָ ֜ ָדיו ְרא ּ֩ו חֶ לְ ַ֙קת‬
Textual Notes
‫ה]חלקה באש‬
֯ [‫ ⫽ ויבואו י]לדי יואב אלו קרוׂעי ב[גדיהם ויאומרו הציתו עב]ד֯ י אבשלום ֯א ֯ת‬καὶ ἐνέπρησαν αὐτὰς οἱ
παῖδες Αβεσσαλωμ καὶ παραγίνονται οἱ δοῦλοι Ιωαβ πρὸς αὐτὸν διερρηχότες τὰ ἱμάτια αὐτῶν καὶ
εἶπαν ἐνεπύρισαν οἱ δοῦλοι Αβεσσαλωμ τὴν μερίδα ἐν πυρί ⟧> 𝔐
23. 2 SAMUEL 21:17

1Q7 f327
‫ אתנו למלחמה‬3 ]‫לש[תי ו]ימיתהו אז נש[בעו א]נשי דויד [לא]מר לא תצא ע[וד‬
֯ ‫הפ‬
֯ ]‫ וי[עזר ]לו אבשי בן צ[רויה ויך את‬2
⟧ ⟦ ‫ולא ֯ת[כבה את נר י]שראל‬
καὶ ἐβοήθησεν αὐτῷ Αβεσσα υἱὸς Σαρουιας καὶ ἐπάταξεν τὸν ἀλλόφυλον καὶ ἐθανάτωσεν αὐτόν τότε
ὤμοσαν οἱ ἄνδρες Δαυιδ λέγοντες οὐκ ἐξελεύσῃ ἔτι μεθ᾽ ἡμῶν εἰς πόλεμον καὶ οὐ μὴ σβέσῃς τὸν
λύχνον Ισραηλ
‫יתהּו ָ ֣אז נִ ְׁשּבְ ע ּ֩ו אַ נְ ׁשֵ י־דָ ִ֙וד ֜לֹו לֵאמֹ֗ ר ל ֹא־תֵ ֵ֙צא ע֤ ֹוד ִאּתָ נ֙ ּו֙ ל ִַּמלְ חָ ֔ ָמה וְ ֥ל ֹא ְתכ ֶַּב֖ה‬
֑ ֵ ‫יׁשי ּבֶ ן־צְ רּו ָ֔יה וַּיַ �ְ֥ך אֶ ת־הַ ּפְ לִ ְׁש ִ ּ֖תי וַיְ ִמ‬
֣ ַ ִ‫ו ַ ַּֽי ֲעזָר־לֹו֙ אֲב‬
‫אֶ ת־נֵ ֥ר יִ ְׂש ָר ֵ ֽאל‬
Textual Notes
‫ ⫽ נש[בעו א]נשי דויד [לא]מר‬ὤμοσαν οἱ ἄνδρες Δαυιδ λέγοντες ⟧ 𝔐 ‫נִ ְׁשּבְ ע ּ֩ו אַ נְ ׁשֵ י־דָ ִ֙וד ֜לֹו לֵאמֹ֗ ר‬
26
27
24. 2 SAMUEL 23:1

4Q51 f155–15828
‫יע[קב ונעים זמרות ישראל‬
֯ ‫ הגבר הקי֯ םׂ אל משיח [אלו]הי‬24 ]‫ ואלה ד֯ ֯ברי דויד האחרׂ[ונים נאם דויד בן ישי ונאם‬1 23 23
καὶ οὗτοι οἱ λόγοι Δαυιδ οἱ ἔσχατοι πιστὸς Δαυιδ υἱὸς Ιεσσαι καὶ πιστὸς ἀνήρ ὃν ἀνέστησεν κύριος
ἐπὶ χριστὸν θεοῦ Ιακωβ καὶ εὐπρεπεῖς ψαλμοὶ Ισραηλ
‫ֱֹלה֣י ַ ֽיעֲקֹ֔ ב ּונְ ִ ֖עים ז ְִמ ֥רֹות יִ ְׂש ָר ֵ ֽאל‬
ֵ ‫וְ ֵ ֛אּלֶה ִּדבְ ֵ ֥רי דָ ִ ֖וד הָ ַ ֽאחֲרֹ ִנ֑ים נְ אֻ ֧ם ּדָ ִ ֣וד ּבֶ ן־יִ ׁשַ֗ י ּונְ אֻ ֤ם הַ ֙ ֶּגבֶ ר֙ הֻ ֣קַ ם ָ֔על ְמ ִׁשי֙ ַ֙ח א‬
Textual Notes
‫ ⫽ הקי֯ םׂ אל משיח‬ἀνήρ ὃν ἀνέστησεν κύριος ἐπὶ χριστὸν ⟧ 𝔐 ‫הַ ֙ ֶּגבֶ ר֙ הֻ ֣קַ ם ָ֔על ְמ ִׁשי֙ ַ֙ח‬
25. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Texts
1Q7: Barthélemy, Dominique, and J. T. Milik, eds. Qumran Cave I. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert
1. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1955, 64–5. Palaeography: Late Hasmonean (or Early Herodian) formal
script: (c. 50—25 bce).
4Q51: Cross, Frank Moore, Donald W. Parry, Richard J. Saley, and Eugene Ulrich. Qumran Cave 4. XII. 1-2
Samuel. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 17. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2005, 1–216. Palaeography: Late
Hasmonean (or Early Herodian) formal script: (c. 50—25 bce).
4Q53: Cross, Frank Moore, Donald W. Parry, Richard J. Saley, and Eugene Ulrich. Qumran Cave
4. XII. 1-2 Samuel. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 17. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2005, 247–67.
Palaeography: semiformal, 1st quarter of the 1st century bce.
Secondary Literature
Barthélemy, Dominique, and J. T. Milik, eds. Qumran Cave I. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert
1. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1955.
Cross, Frank Moore, Donald W. Parry, Richard J. Saley, and Eugene Ulrich. Qumran Cave 4. XII. 1-2 Samuel.
Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 17. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2005.
Martone, Corrado. “Qumran Readings in Agreement with the Septuagint Against the Masoretic Text : Part
One: The Pentateuch.” Henoch. Studies in Judaism and Christianity from Second Temple to Late Antiquity
27.1–2 (2005): 53–113.
Martone, Corrado. “Qumran Readings in Agreement with the Septuagint against the Masoretic Text : Part
Two: Joshua-Judges.” Pages 141–5 in Flores Florentino : Dead Sea Scrolls and Other Early Jewish Studies
in Honour of Florentino García Martínez. Edited by Anthony Hilhorst, Émile Puech, and Eibert Tigchelaar.
Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 122. Leiden: Brill, 2007.
Martone, Corrado. “Qumran Readings In Agreement with the Septuagint against the Masoretic Text: Part
Three: 1 Samuel.” Revue de Qumrân 25.4 (100) (2012): 557–73.
Ulrich, Eugene C. The Biblical Qumran Scrolls: Transcriptions and Textual Variants. Supplements to Vetus
Testamentum v. 134. Leiden: Brill, 2010.
28
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
When Prophecy
Fails: Apocalyptic Schemes for
Dating the “Appointed Time of
the End” in the Dead Sea Scrolls
and the Jesus Movement
JAMES D. TABOR
Since the full release of the entire Dead Sea Scrolls corpus in 1992, it is now possible to sketch
out what I would characterize as a rather comprehensive and reliable portrait of the sectarian
Community (i.e., Yachad) that produced the scrolls. We can now fill out to a much greater extent
the “life and times” of their unnamed leader or Prophet, most commonly referred to as the “Teacher
of Righteousness.”1 I take this descriptive title to mean the “Right” or “True” Teacher.2 This pivotal
figure, mentioned approximately thirty times in the DSS corpus, is also referred to as “the Teacher,”
It is a pleasure to offer this modest contribution to James H. Charlesworth on his eightieth birthday. Jim and I have
spent countless hours together trekking through the Judean Desert, whether exploring Herodian fortresses (Alexandrium,
Masada, Hyrcania, and Machaerus) or the caves from Wadi Qelt to Qumran. Whether digging, lecturing, or studying texts
together, at home or in the Holy Land, we have carried on a continuous dialogue for over twenty-five years, focused on
our first love—the relationship of the Dead Sea Scrolls and the emerging Jesus movement in the late Second Temple period.
Charlesworth’s contributions to this area of scholarship are as indispensable as they are abundant. I am honored to know
him as my friend and colleague.
1
Throughout this chapter, I will use the capitalized word “Community” to designate the specific apocalyptic group that lies
behind the Dead Sea Scrolls that are usually judged to be “sectarian,” that is, composed by the group itself, about itself, thus
reflecting its history, beliefs, and expectations.
2
The phrase ‫ מורה צדך‬was translated “Teacher of Righteousness” as early as S. Schechter, Documents of Jewish
Sectaries: Fragments of a Zadokite Work, vol. 1 (Cambridge: Cambridge: University Press, 1910), echoed in German
(“Lehrer der Gerechtigkeit”) and French (“Maître/Docteur de Justice”), most often thought to derive from Hos 10:12(19)
or Joel 2:23(20), and understood as the “Prophet like Moses” figure who “reveals right Torah” (4Q165 f1-2:3), without the
Protestant theological connotations of “justification” by faith in contrast to the so-called “righteousness of the Law.” John
Reeves has suggested the idea of the “True Lawgiver” who both definitively reveals and interprets the Torah in the last days,
“The Meaning of Moreh Ṣedeq in the Light of 11QTorah,” RevQ 13.1/4 (1988): 287–98.
or “the unique” Teacher (‫)מורה היחיד‬. The idea is not so much that of a teacher known for his
wisdom or interpretive brilliance, like a revered rabbinic chakamin or a Greek philosopher. Instead,
the designation has specific apocalyptic and eschatological associations related to the sectarian
Community and its self-understanding as the chosen ones of the Last Days who will usher in the
Redemption. More important, as we will see, it is the Teacher’s death that becomes the fundamental
determining factor in the prophetic timetable that defined the Community’s expectations.
Here I agree with Michael Wise. As students of late Second Temple Judaism and Christian
origins we have the extraordinary good fortune of having in our hands the fragmentary library
of what was perhaps the first such movement in Western history—and thus the career of the first
Messiah.3 This chapter does not explore the fascinating “autobiographical” aspects of the life of
the Teacher. However, I am convinced that given the new evaluations of the Hodayot, including
the fragments and Cave 4 materials now associated therewith, we can in fact “hear” the Voice of
the Teacher and get a sense of his personal mindset and inner psychology—a phenomenon only
paralleled in this period by the early letters of Paul.4
I use the term “Messiah” in the most generic sense—not merely to refer to an ideal Davidic King
but one who is understood to function as a central figure or chief agent in ushering in and mediating
the expected arrival of the Last Days (Dan 2:44; Isaiah 11; Mic 5:2–4; Zech 6:12–13; Mal 3:1–2).
As John the Baptist was so famously asked by his Jewish contemporaries in the gospel of John,
“Are you the Messiah? Are you Elijah? Are you the Prophet?” (John 1:19–23). The followers of
the Teacher at Qumran expected a variety of categories and potential candidates to fulfill a set of
diverse prophetic roles based on their understanding of how the Last Days would unfold.5 The
complicated terminology related to understanding the apocalypticism in the Scrolls, in particular
3
M. O. Wise, The First Messiah: Investigating the Savior Before Christ (San Francisco, CA: HarperCollins, 1999), and more
specifically, M. O. Wise, “Dating the Teacher of Righteousness and the Floruit of His Movement,” JBL 122 (2003): 53–87
and “The Origins and History of the Teacher’s Movement,” in The Oxford Handbook of the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. T. H.
Lim and J. J. Collins (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010), 92–122. For a more traditional view of the dating and
possible identity of the Teacher and other figures in the scrolls (i.e., “Wicked Priest,” “Man of Lies”), see W. H. Brownlee,
“The Wicked Priest, the Man of Lies, and the Righteous Teacher: The Problem of Identity,” JQR 73 (1982): 1–37. M. V.
Novenson, The Grammar of Messianism: An Ancient Jewish Political Idiom and Its Users (New York: Oxford University
Press, 2017), has questioned Wise’s assumptions and dating. Although I find Novenson’s critique of Wise’s “quest for the
first messiah” useful as a cautionary note (i.e., there are never any “absolute” beginnings), I find Wise’s work nonetheless
insightful and valuable. Disputes about antecedents and derivative “borrowings” by Jesus or his followers are irrelevant.
Wise’s point is that we have in the DSS corpus the life and teachings of Moses-like prophet that antedates the John the
Baptist/Jesus movement by as much as one hundred years.
4
See J. D. Tabor, Things Unutterable: Paul’s Ascent to Paradise in Its Greco-Roman, Judaic, and Early Christian Contexts
(Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1986); M. C. Douglas, “The Teacher Hymn Hypothesis Revisited: New Data
for an Old Crux,” DSD 6 (1999): 239–66; and A. K. Harkins, Reading with an “I” to the Heavens Looking at the Qumran
Hodayot through the Lens of Visionary Traditions (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2018). The Teacher Hymn Hypothesis experienced
a resurgence of interest in the 1990s after the publication of six fragmentary copies from Cave 4 (4Q427–32, 4QHa-e, and
4QpapHf) that had overlapping material with passages in 1QHa. For several years, Hartmut Stegemann and Émile Puech
worked on 1QH independently of each other to produce a definitive reconstruction of the Hodayot that would restore the
original arrangement of the scroll. Remarkably, their conclusions were the same. Stegemann and Eileen Schuller, along with
a translation by Carol Newsom, published these results in the definitive edition of DJD 40 (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2009). For a reader’s edition, see E. M. Schuller and C. A. Newsom, The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms): A Study
Edition of 1QHa (Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2012).
5
See J. D. Tabor, “Are You the One? The Textual Dynamics of Messianic Self-Identity,” in Knowing the End from
the Beginning: The Prophetic, the Apocalyptic, and Their Relationships, ed. L. L. Grabbe and R. D. Haak, JSPSup 46
(Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2004), 180–91.
When Prophecy Fails 445
the expectation, appearance, function, or even “nonappearance,” of various “Redemptive Figures”

that are referred to by a variety of overlapping terms, has received careful attention by scholars
over the past seventy years.6 These designations arise, for the most part, directly from the Hebrew
Scriptures—Prophet, Priest, Messiahs, Stone, Branch, Prince, Messenger, Servant, Star, Scepter,
and so forth. In other words, the Scrolls, as a corpus, do not refer to just one figure but reflect a
developing and shifting, even speculative, application of the complexity categories drawn primarily
from the Hebrew Bible.
This chapter focuses on one fascinating aspect of the history of this most seminal of millenarian
movements: the demise or death of its beloved Teacher and the subsequent failure of the central
prophetic expectations that he had instilled in the Community by both his presence and his
teachings. After all, he is the one to whom “God made known all the mysteries of the words of His
servants the Prophets” (1QpHab vii 4). One might call this our first grand case of “When Prophecy
Fails.”7
I begin with the Community Rule (1QS), where we find no indication that any messianic figures
have appeared on the scene. This includes the revered Teacher who is subsequently to play such
a significant role as a type of “second Moses” figure whose career is to usher in the End of Days.
The Damascus Document (CD) offers us a chronology on this period, namely, that 390 years after
Nebuchadnezzar carried away the Jews to Babylon, God caused a “plant root” to spring up. The
image, of a root in the desert spring out of the dry ground, is, in fact, messianic, drawn from a
prophecy in Isaiah about the arrival of the David Messiah (Isa 53:2). The remnant Community
perceived their iniquity and recognized they were guilty men, “yet for twenty years they were
like blind men groping for the Way” (CD i 9). God observed their piety and “raised up for them a
Teacher of Righteousness to guide them in the way of His heart” (CD i 10). It is difficult to put a
precise date on the appearance of the Teacher since our modern historical chronology, which has
586 bce as the Exile under Nebuchadnezzar, is unlikely to correspond with that of the Community,
which had its own system of dating the length of the Babylonian and Persian periods. This period
of 390 years was apparently based on Ezek 4:4–8 where the duration of punishment for Jerusalem
and Judah is represented by Ezekiel “lying on his side” before a model of the siege of the city for
390 days—thus a day for a year. As we will see, this period was then rather ingeniously placed
within Daniel’s “Seventy Weeks” prophecy that specified a total of 490 years (70 “weeks” of years)
countdown leading to the End (Dan 9:24–27). This was then understood as ten Jubilees of forty-
nine years. This dividing of the “final days” into Jubilee cycles of forty-nine years became critical
to the Community’s calculations and expectations.8 The remaining eighty years, following this
390-year period, left two periods of forty years. For twenty years thereafter, they are “like blind
men groping for the Way,” leading up to the appearance of their Teacher. As we will see, after the
6
The literature is too vast to cite here but see J. J. Collins, The Scepter and the Star: Messianism in Light of the Dead
Sea Scrolls (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2010), for an excellent overview, as well as J. H. Charlesworth, ed., The
Messiah: Developments in Earliest Judaism and Christianity (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1992), and M. A. Knibb,
“Apocalypticism and Messianism,” in The Oxford Handbook of the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. Timothy H. Lim and John J. Collins
(New York: Oxford University Press, 2010), 403–32.
7
The phrase comes from the classic anthropological study of L. Festinger, H. W. Riecken, and S. Schachter, When Prophecy
Fails: A Social and Psychological Study of a Modern Group That Predicted the Destruction of the World (Minneapolis: University
of Minnesota Press, 1956).
8
A. Laato, “The Chronology in the ‘Damascus Document’ of Qumran,” RevQ 15.4 (1992): 605–7.
Teacher’s death, the final forty-year period unfolded that was expected to bring the End—allowing
for a twenty-year career for the Teacher.
Even though we can’t impose our modern dating of the Exile to interpret these texts, what is
clear is that the Community is calculating the arrival rather precisely, year by year, based on their
own understanding of the passing of years since Jerusalem’s destruction. What we can say is that
within the Community Rule (1QS) there is no indication that either the Teacher or any other
anticipated messianic figures have appeared on the scene. This point is of enormous significance.
It means that we can “capture” the outlook of this apocalyptic sectarian group before the arrival of
the Teacher, and then contrast their perceptions of the Last Days in the light of his teachings. We
can also investigate how they shaped their ideas after the Teacher’s death as well.
Thus, simply put, we have three stages of their history that should be distinguished: The
Community: Before the Teacher || Shaped by the Teacher || After the Teacher’s Death. It is not
always possible to assign our extant texts to one of these three periods, since our manuscripts
were regularly being copied, updated, and revised. As a result, we have various versions of the
same documents—especially in the hundreds of Cave 4 fragments. It is, nonetheless, insightful, to
make such an attempt as our sources permit. In the case of the Damascus Document, we have the
good fortune to possess two clear recensions, A and B, which allow us to capture and track the
Community, both before and after the loss of their leader.
In the earlier recension, text A, the Community reflects its self-understanding as the New
Covenant community of the Last Days. Notice the following three passages:9
1QS vii 12b-14: And when these become members of the Community in Israel according to
all these rules, they shall separate from the habitation of ungodly men and shall go into the
wilderness to prepare the way of Him, as it is written, “Prepare in the wilderness the way …
make straight in the desert a path for our God” (Isa 40:3). This (path) is the study of the Law
which He commanded by the hand of Moses, that they may do according to all that has been
revealed from age to age, an as the Prophets have revealed by his Holy Spirit.
1QS ix 19b-20: This is the time for the preparation of the way in the wilderness, and he [i.e.,
the Master/‫ ]משכיל‬shall teach them to do all that is required at that time and to separate from all
those who have not turned aside from all injustice.
1QS ix 9b-11: They shall depart from none of the counsels of the Torah to walk in all the
stubbornness of their hearts, but shall be ruled by the primitive precepts in which the men of the
Community were first instructed until there shall come the Prophet and the Messiahs (‫עד בוא נביא‬
‫ )ומשיחי‬of Aaron and Israel.
Here we have the core self-understanding of the Community. Its role is to fulfill the prophecy
of Isa 40:3 involving a separated people who will devote themselves to “preparing the Way in
the wilderness.” This preparation consists of the study and obedience of the Torah based on the
primitive instructions handed down by the founders of the movement. Clearly, “Preparing the
Way” then leads to the coming of the Prophet and the Messiahs of Aaron and Israel. I read this
as three separate figures—a Prophet and two Messiahs, although the phrase in the singular—“the
9
Quotations are from the English edition of G. Vermes, The Complete Dead Sea Scrolls in English (London: Penguin, 2011),
for ease of access.
messiah of Aaron and Israel” occurs four times in the Damascus Document with a singular verb (cf.
CD xii 23–xiii 1; xiv 18–19; xix 10–11; xx 1).10
The Prophet is clearly the “Prophet like Moses,” based on Deut 18:18–19, which is quoted
explicitly in 4QTestimonia (4Q175). I take this as the same figure identified as the “Star” of Num
24:17, who is described as the “Interpreter of the Torah” (CD vii 19; 4QFlor xi). A second figure,
the “Scepter” of Num 24:17, is the Branch of David or “the Prince of the whole Congregation”
(CD vii 20; 4QFlor xi), who arises with the Interpreter of the Torah. This is clearly the Davidic
or royal Messiah (2 Sam 7:13; Isa 11:1). Associated with him is Priestly/Aaronic Messiah or the
anointed one, described in 1QSa 2, 11–20 (4Q28a), who presides over the Messianic banquet along
with the “Messiah of Israel,” whom I take to be the Davidic figure. Two very similar figures are
referred to in Zech 4:14 as the two “sons of fresh oil” (‫“ )שני בני היצהר‬who stand before the ‘Lord’
(Adon) of the whole earth.”11
Although we can document the appearance of the Prophet or Teacher of Righteousness with
explicit references in various core sectarian scrolls, I find no evidence anywhere in the entire DSS
corpus of the appearance of the messiah/s of Aaron and Israel. The Damascus Document (CD) is
absolutely crucial in this regard. Two manuscripts (A and B) were found in the Cairo Genizah by
S. Schechter in 1897. Also, significant fragments of the document showed up in Caves 4, 5, and 6
at Qumran. The first lines of column i clearly refer to the appearance of the Teacher 390 years after
the Babylonian Exile (our 586 bce date) and twenty years after the origin of the New Covenant
movement:
He visited them and He caused a plant root to spring from Israel and Aaron to inherit His Land
and to prosper on the good things of His earth. And they perceived their iniquity and recognized
that they were guilty men, yet for twenty years they were like blind men groping for the way.
And God observed their deeds, that they sought Him with a whole heart, and He raised up for
them a Teacher of Righteousness to guide them in the way of His heart. (CD i 9–11)
What I find rather striking is that in CD manuscript A, other than in this introduction, there is no
direct reference to the arrival and career of this Teacher. Indeed, in column vii we find a reference
to the “Star and Scepter” promise of Numbers 24 with a decidedly “future” cast to it—as if neither
figure had appeared. And in vi 2 and 10 we read: “He raised up from Aaron men of discernment
and from Israel men of wisdom … until he comes who shall teach righteousness at the end of days.”
In the critical fragment we call manuscript B we have two additional references to the community
holding fast to its mission “until the coming of the Messiah of Aaron and Israel,” as mentioned
above (CD xix 10–11; xx 1). However, in sharp contrast to the opening of manuscript A, we find
direct references to the “gathering in” (i.e., death) of the Teacher of the Community:
CD B xix 33a-35, xx 1: None of the men who enter the New Covenant in the land of Damascus
and who again betray it and depart from the fountain of living waters, shall be reckoned with the
10
M. G. Abegg, “The Messiah at Qumran: Are We Still Seeing Double?” DSD 2 (1995): 125–44.
11
The book of Revelation builds directly upon this passage, perhaps influenced by the same currents of thought reflected in
the Dead Sea Scrolls, predicting “two witnesses” who “stand before the Lord of the earth” whose appearance ushers in the
“seventh Trumpet” that heralds the resurrection of the dead and the judgment of the nations (Rev 11:1–13).
Council of the people or inscribed in its Book, from the day of gathering in of the [unique/‫]היחיד‬
Teacher of the Community until the comings of the Messiah out of Aaron and Israel.12
CD B xx 13b-15: From the day of the gathering in of the [unique/‫ ]היחיד‬Teacher of the
Community until the end of all the men of war who deserted to the Liar, there shall pass about
forty years.
What is even more striking is that CD manuscript B recasts manuscript A column vii and quotes
Zech 13:7: “Awake O Sword against my Shepherd, against the man who is my fellow, says God—
smite the shepherd and the sheep shall be scattered, and I will turn my hand upon the little ones”
(CD B xix 7–9).
This “smiting” of the Shepherd, whom I take to be the Teacher, appears parallel in this fragment
to his “gathering in.” At this very point in the text, fragment B edits out the reference in A to the
Numbers 24 “Star and Scepter” prophecy—obviously seeing it as in the past. It is seldom we have
such a clear example of the kind of updating or “redating” of the apocalyptic expectations of the
Community. Like the early Jesus followers, following his unanticipated crucifixion, the Dead Sea
Scroll group has searched the Prophetic scriptures and found the Zechariah text that for them
explains the death of the Teacher. I think the implication here is that they had no expectation that
he would die before the Last Days were fulfilled. However, given the recent research of M. Wise,
I. Knohl, M. Fishbane, and others, it is entirely possible that the Teacher himself might have
anticipated his suffering and death as part of his prophetic role, drawing upon “Suffering Servant”
imagery from Isaiah. I have argued that such is the case, drawing upon the gospel of Mark in the
case of Jesus, where one finds a proleptic anticipation of Jesus’ death, but with application to the
Teacher in the scrolls.13 What is all the more striking is that the gospel of Mark cites the same text
from Zechariah in what purports to be a proleptic anticipation of Jesus’ death:
And when they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives. And Jesus said to
them, “You will all fall away; for it is written, ‘I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be
scattered.’ ” (Mark 14:26–27)14
That these two communities, separated by perhaps one hundred years or more, would draw upon
a very similar explanation for the suffering and death of their respective Teachers is remarkable.
But there is more. We also find a period of “about 40 years” tied to the demise of the Teacher.
There is a fragment from Cave 4 (4Q171 Psalms Pesher) that refers to the same period:
“A little while and the wicked shall be no more; I will look towards his place, but he shall not be
there” (Psa 37:10), emphasis in original. Interpreted, this concerns all the wicked. At the end of
the forty years they shall be blotted out and not a man shall be found on earth. (4Q171 ii 5b–8)
Here things get a bit complicated. The chronological scheme that the group had worked out is
based on the “Seventy Weeks” prophecy of Dan 9:24–27. In their understanding, a “week” (the
12
Here, and in the next passage, Vermes omits the word “unique,” or beloved, so I have added it in brackets.
13
Building upon the work of these scholars I have argued that Jesus and the Teacher likely anticipated acute suffering as part
of their messianic roles in bringing about the Redemption. This might include drawing near to the threshold of death but
with faith in God’s rescue in whatever form it might take. In that sense, I do not think the dire circumstances of either were
a complete surprise to their followers. See Tabor, “Are You the One?” 185–9.
14
Quotations from the Bible are from the RSV (1952, 1971). Emphases are mine.
Hebrew word is generic, meaning “heptad”) was equivalent to seven years, so that seventy weeks
totals 490 years. This corresponds precisely to ten Jubilee periods of forty-nine years each (Lev
25:8–12). The Jubilee signified the “proclamation of liberty throughout the land” (Lev 25:8).15
In the view of the Community, the “Last Days” were a final 490-year period “countdown” (70 ×
7 years) that would neatly divide into ten Jubilees of forty-nine years each.16
This final period of forty years, preceded by the 390 years since the Exile, the twenty years of
wandering between the establishment of the Community and the rise of the Teacher, and what
appears to be his forty-year career before his death, one can fill out the full 490 years of Daniel
rather neatly (390+20+40+40). It is this sort of precise periodization that was of immense appeal
to a variety of Jewish groups in the late Second Temple period.
This all comes together in the most extraordinary text, 11QMelch (11Q13), referring to the
heavenly priest Melchizedek, who will inaugurate “the Year of Grace for Melchizedek” during a
final forty-nine-year Jubilee period:
And this thing [i.e., proclaiming liberty to the captives] will [occur] in the first week of the
Jubilee that follows the nine Jubilees. And the Day of Atonement is the e[nd of the]tenth [Ju]
bilee, when all the Sons of [Light] and the men of the lot of Mel[chi]zedek will be atoned for …
For this is the moment of the Year of Grace for Melchizedek. (11QMelch ii 6b-9a)
This is the day of [Peace/Salvation] concern which [God] spoke [through Isa]iah the prophet,
who said, [How] beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of the messenger who proclaims peace,
who brings good news, who proclaims salvation, who says to Zion: Your ELOHIM [reigns] (Isa
52:7). Its interpretation; the mountains are the prophets … and the messenger is the Anointed
one of the spirit, concerning whom Dani[iel] said.
Here we have reference to the first week—or seven years into the final Jubilee of forty-nine years—
when this heavenly decree was presumably made, as “Elohim takes his place in the divine council”
inaugurating the process of judgment, referencing Ps 83:1. This proclamation, presumably by the
Teacher himself shortly before his death, then ushers in the final forty-years of the 490-year total.
This final Jubilee is clearly probationary, a kind of last call for the “Sons of Light” to distinguish
themselves from the wicked who are to be blotted out at the end of the tenth Jubilee. The text
refers to the “anointed of the spirit” alluding to Isa 61:1-2, who inaugurates this period of Grace by
proclaiming “good news of salvation,” while at the same time proclaiming the “day of vengeance of
our God.” The text unfortunately breaks off but clearly references Dan 9:25 where the “anointed
one, a prince” is cut off. Accordingly, this anointed “proclaimer” is the same as the one who is soon
to die.
15
In Jewish tradition, a Jubilee is understood as either fifty years or forty-nine years. Those who supported the forty-nine-
year cycle considered the next year, the fiftieth, as the first year of the new forty-nine-year cycle—and simultaneously, the
first of the new seven-year Sabbath cycle. See S. B. Hoenig, “Sabbatical Years and the Year of Jubilee,” JQR 59 (1969): 222–
36; J. S. Bergsma, “Once again, the Jubilee, Every 49 or 50 Years?” VT 55 (2005): 121–5; and Y. H. Kim, “The Jubilee: Its
Reckoning and Inception Day,” VT 60 (2010): 147–51.
16
This 490-year prophetic scheme was applied in a variety of ways in texts surviving from the Second Temple period. See
J. VanderKam, “Sabbatical Chronologies in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls in Their
Historical Context, ed. T. H. Lim (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2000): 159–78 and C. Werman, “Epochs and End-Time: The
490-Year Scheme in Second Temple Literature,” DSD 13.2 (2006): 229–55.
Once again, the parallels with the Jesus movement are striking. According to Luke, Jesus
proclaimed the “acceptable year of the Lord” based on his own claim to be the “anointed of the
Spirit” spoken of in Isa 61:1–2, similarly ushering the “acceptable year of the Lord” while warning
of the day of vengeance (Luke 4:16–19). Luke, in particular, is keen to emphasize that the Christ
or Anointed one is to fulfill everything written about his sufferings in the Torah, the Prophets, and
the Writings, and that his death ushers in the final generation prior to the arrival of the Kingdom
of God (Luke 24:44–46; 21:28–33; 13:34–35).
We then move to the next stage of interpretation—the period after the death of the Teacher. The
most important text to consider in this regard is the Pesher in the book of Habakkuk (1QpHab).
Here we have the most extended references to the Teacher—past, present, and future, reflecting
how the Community viewed their situation after his death.
First, the Community has clearly lived past the final forty-year “countdown” period following
the Teacher’s death that was supposed to usher in the final Day of Redemption, with grace for the
elect and destruction for the wicked. This period is called “the last generation” (1QpMic frags.
17–18, 5). A generation is considered to be about forty years (Num 14:33; Mark 13:30). The
Habakkuk commentary speaks clearly about the “chastisement of the Teacher of Righteousness”
by the Liar (1QpHab v 10–11). It also focuses on the “Teacher of Righteousness, to who God has
made known all the mysteries of the words of His servants the Prophets” (1QpHab vii 4–5).
The text opens with the cry of the prophet Habakkuk in a vision: “For how long, O Lord,
shall I cry for help and Thou wilt not [hear]? The writer then interprets this cry of desperation
as the ‘beginning of the final generation’ ” (1QpHab i 1–2). Clearly the Community is looking
past the death of the Teacher, which was to usher in the final forty-year period, and that has now
passed—not with the Redemption expected, but with further oppression and rule of the Land by
the Kittim—first the Greeks, followed by the Romans.
The references are explicit in this text with the writer taking the words of the prophet Habakkuk
(shown in italics in the translation) and then interpreting them line by line—explicitly applying
them to that last generation. This is clearly one of the most extraordinary texts in the entire Dead
Sea corpus in terms of understanding the faith and hope of the Community as it lived past the
predicted time of the End:
And God told Habakkuk to write down that which would happen to the final generation,
but He did not make known to him when time would come to an end. As for that which
He said, That he who reads may read it speedily: interpreted, this concerns the Teacher of
Righteousness, to whom God made known all the mysteries of the words of His servants the
Prophets.
For there shall be yet another vision concerning the appointed time. It shall tell of the end and
shall not lie. Interpreted, this means that the final age shall be prolonged, and shall exceed all
that the Prophets have said; for the mysteries of God are astounding.
If it tarries, wait for it, for it shall surely come and shall not be late. Interpreted, this concerns
the men of truth who keep the Torah, whose hands shall not slacked in the service of truth when
the final age is prolonged. For all the ages of God reach their appointed end as he determines for
them in the mysteries of His wisdom.
Behold, his soul is puffed up and is not upright. Interpreted, this means that the wicked shall
double their guilt upon themselves and it shall not be forgiven when they are judged …
But the righteous shall live by his faith. Interpreted, this concerns all those who observe the
Torah in the House of Judah, whom God will deliver from the House of Judgment because of
their suffering and because of their faith in the Teacher of Righteousness. (1QpHab vii 1–viii 3a)
Whether one dates the floruit of the Teacher and his movement in the early to mid-second century
bce, or as I prefer, the early first century bce, the fundamental issue is the same. As the text clearly
says, “the final age is prolonged and shall exceed all that the Prophets have said; for the mysteries of
God are astounding.”17 The community is struggling with a perennial apocalyptic challenge, whether
focused on events or predicted periods. What is most expected to happen never comes about, and
what is least anticipated, in fact, holds sway. In the case of the Dead Sea Scroll community, the forces
of Belial/Satan, including the Greeks and Romans who occupied the Land, and their “Ephraimite”
religious opponents—which they applied to all Jews who rejected their New Covenant—grew
stronger, not weaker. It was as if the “Sons of Darkness” had triumphed and the “Sons of Light” were
left hopeless. With the Teacher dead and the final forty years of the “last” generation passed, the
group could well face a crisis of faith. Ironically, the Habakkuk pesher pins its hopes and confidence
on a verse that the apostle Paul was later to put as the center of his theology—but with an entirely
different interpretation, namely, “He who is righteous will live by faith.” But in this case, the faith
is that despite the “prolonging” of the Last Times beyond anything the Prophets had predicted—
namely, Daniel’s “Seventy Weeks”—one is to maintain faith in what the Teacher had taught them.
A hundred years later, the Jesus movement experienced a very similar crisis, struggling with
some of the same prophetic texts and a strikingly similar set of interpretations. In Paul’s earlier
letters, particularly 1 Thessalonians and 1 Corinthians, both dating in the early 50s ce, he seems
to be very conscious of a calculated “time of the end.” He expects to live to see the Parousia, or
the “Arrival” of Jesus the Messiah in the clouds of heaven (1 Thess 1:9–10; 2:19; 3:13; 4:13–18;
5:1–10, 23). He advises the Jesus followers at Corinth to forgo marriage, business entanglements,
or involvements with the world and to be content with their state in life—whether married, single,
Jewish, Gentile, slave, or free (1 Cor 7:17–31). He argues that in “view of impending crisis” it is
best to remain as one is, since “the form of this world (σχῆμα τοῦ κόσμου) is passing away” (1 Cor
7:31). He declares clearly that “the appointed time has grown very short” (1 Cor 7:29). Although
we do not know what precise chronological scheme Paul had in mind here, we do recognize that
this phrase, the “appointed time of the end,” comes mainly from the prophecies of Daniel, who is
the only prophet of the Hebrew Bible who includes chronological calculations in his predictions
(Dan 8:14, 17, 19, 23; 9:24–27; 11:35, 40; 12:7–13).
The Synoptic gospels likewise expect the Parousia or return of the Messiah in the clouds of
heaven to come approximately one generation—or forty years—after the death of their Teacher,
Jesus of Nazareth:
From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves,
you know that summer is near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that
17
On dating the community see Brownlee, “The Wicked Priest,” and Wise, “Dating the Teacher of Righteousness.” It
remains the case that the core sectarian writings, namely 1QS, CD, 1QH, 1QpHab, other pesharim, and 1QM, date to the
first century bce on both paleographic and archaeological grounds. See the reassessment of Phase I to somewhere between
100 and 50 bce, by J. Magness, The Archaeology of Qumran and the Dead Sea Scrolls (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2015).
he/it is near, even at the very gates. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all
these things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away
(Mark 13:28–31).
So also, when you see these things taking place you know that the kingdom of God is near. Truly
I say to you, this generation will not pass away until all has taken place. (Luke 21: 31–32)
Paul falls right in the middle of that period, from 30 ce to 70 ce. That is apparently why the first
Jewish revolt against the Romans and the subsequent destruction of Jerusalem and its Temple, as
well as the devastation of the entire Land, from 66 to 73 ce was such an apocalyptic time. This was
the case not only for Jesus followers but for many other Jews as well. Josephus, who lived through
this period, makes the extraordinary claim:
But what more than all else incited them to the war as an ambiguous oracle, likewise found in
their sacred scriptures, to the effect that at that time one from their country would become ruler
of the world. (Jewish War 6.312)18
I am convinced that the “oracle” here is referring to Daniel 9 and the “Seventy Weeks” prophecy—
now applied to the generation leading up to 70 ce. All the elements Josephus mentions fit the
specific aspects of that prophecy—including the devastation of Jerusalem by the Roman general
Titus and the emperor Vespasian in 70 ce, something to which Josephus was an eyewitness.
When prophetic expectations fail, various interpretive strategies are common among “Scripture-
based” apocalyptic groups. We see one of them at work in the first and second generations of both
the Dead Sea Community and the Jesus movement. An attempt is made to simply “prolong the time”
beyond predicted expectations, without any significant reinterpretations. Since both these groups
have tied their timetable for the “appointed time of the end,” to their reading of Daniel’s Seventy
Weeks prophecy, that includes the idea of a messiah or anointed one being “cut off,” followed then
by the events of the End within a generation—there is really little capacity for adjustment. If a
movement survives such a failure of expectations—which the Jesus followers did, and the followers
of the Teacher apparently did not—there is always the possibility of a complete recasting of things.
This interpretive strategy could take any number of directions. One of the most common is to
allegorize the texts and claim that in fact, the expected events did happen—just not in the literal
way that the community had first believed. A second is to redo the numbers in such a way that
there is a hidden “gap” in the prophetic timetable. In the twentieth century, for example, it was
common for those espousing a form of Dispensationalism to claim that sixty-nine (483 years) of
Daniel’s seventy weeks was fulfilled down to 70 ce, but the final week of seven years is only to come
at the end of the age. That gap could be of any length, in this case over 1,900 years. Or one might
determine that Daniel’s 490-year period refers to seventy “weeks” of Jubilee years—giving a total
of 3,430 years (49 × 70)! The terminus ad quo is then stretched back accordingly—perhaps to the
Exodus in the time of Moses or some other such benchmark.
What is perhaps more significant about this phenomenon of “delayed” or “failed” prophetic
expectations is understanding how a movement that begins with intense apocalyptic fervor can
18
Josephus, Josephus: The Jewish War, Books IV–VII, trans. H. St. J. Thackeray, LCL (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press, 1928), vol. 3.
survive for many generations beyond its dashed hopes and expectations. That leaves us with the
questions: What are the enduring aspects of the group, either drawn from its teacher/founder
or from its fundamental core perceptions, that enable it to survive for many future generations?
What sort of changes, shifts, and transformations are necessary? How are the clear statements of
an imminent End subsequently understood or reinterpreted? In the case of the Dead Sea Scroll
Community and the Jesus movement we are fortunate to have an abundance of texts, written both
before and after the time of definitive disappointment, so that we can study and observe these
dynamics of persistence and change and compare patterns of interpretation and response.
1. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Abegg, Martin G. “The Messiah at Qumran: Are We Still Seeing Double?” Dead Sea Discoveries 2.2
(1995): 125–44.
Bergsma, John S. “Once again, the Jubilee, Every 49 or 50 Years?” Vetus Testamentum 55.1 (2005): 121–5.
Brownlee, William H. “The Wicked Priest, the Man of Lies, and the Righteous Teacher: The Problem of
Identity.” Jewish Quarterly Review 73.1 (1982): 1–37.
Charlesworth, James H., ed. The Messiah: Developments in Earliest Judaism and Christianity. Princeton
Symposium on Judaism and Christian Origins. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1992.
Collins, John J. The Scepter and the Star: Messianism in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Grand Rapids,
MI: Eerdmans, 2010.
Douglas, Michael C. “The Teacher Hymn Hypothesis Revisited: New Data for an Old Crux.” Dead Sea
Discoveries 6.3 (1999): 239–66.
Festinger, Leon, Henry W. Riecken, and Stanley Schachter. When Prophecy Fails: A Social and Psychological
Study of a Modern Group that Predicted the Destruction of the World. Mansfield Centre, CT: Martino, 2012.
Harkins, Angela Kim. Reading with an “I” to the Heavens Looking at the Qumran Hodayot through the Lens
of Visionary Traditions. Berlin: Gruyter, 2018.
Hoenig, Sidney B. “Sabbatical Years and the Year of Jubilee.” Jewish Quarterly Review 59.3 (1969): 222–36.
Josephus. Josephus: The Jewish War, Books IV-VII. Translated by H. St. J. Thackeray. Vol. 3. Cambridge,
Kawashima, Robert S. “The Jubilee, Every 49 or 50 Years?” Vetus Testamentum 53.1 (2003): 117–20.
Kim, Young Hye. “The Jubilee: Its Reckoning and Inception Day.” Vetus Testamentum 60.1 (2010): 147–51.
Knibb, M. A. “Apocalypticism and Messianism.” Pages 403–32, in The Oxford Handbook of the Dead Sea
Scrolls. Edited by Timothy H. Lim and John J. Collins. New York: Oxford University Press, 2010.
Laato, Antti. “The Chronology in the ‘Damascus Document’ Of Qumran.” Revue de Qumrân 15.4
(1992): 605–7.
Magness, Jodi. The Archaeology of Qumran and the Dead Sea Scrolls. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2015.
Novenson, Matthew V. The Grammar of Messianism: An Ancient Jewish Political Idiom and Its Users.
New York: Oxford University Press, 2017.
Reeves, John C. “The Meaning of Moreh Ṣedeq in the Light of 11QTorah.” Revue de Qumrân 13.1/4
(1988): 287–98.
Schechter, S. Documents of Jewish Sectaries: Fragments of a Zadokite Work. Vol. 1. Cambridge: Cambridge
Schuller, Eileen M., and Carol Ann Newsom. The Hodayot (Thanksgiving Psalms): A Study Edition of 1QHa.
Early Judaism and Its Literature. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature, 2012.
Tabor, James D. “Are You the One? The Textual Dynamics of Messianic Self-Identity.” Pages 180–91 in
Knowing the End from the Beginning: The Prophetic, the Apocalyptic, and Their Relationships. Edited by
Lester L. Grabbe and Robert D. Haak. Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha Supplement Series 46.
Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2004.
Tabor, James D. Things Unutterable: Paul’s ascent to Paradise in Its Greco-Roman, Judaic, and early Christian
Contexts. Studies in Judaism. Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1986.
VanderKam, James C. “Sabbatical Chronologies in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature.” Pages 159–
78 in The Dead Sea Scrolls in Their Historical Context. Edited by Timothy H. Lim. Edinburgh: T&T
Clark, 2000.
Vermes, Geza. The Complete Dead Sea Scrolls in English. London: Penguin, 2011.
Werman, Cana. “Epochs and End-Time: The 490-Year Scheme in Second Temple Literature.” Dead Sea
Discoveries 13.2 (2006): 229–55.
Wise, Michael Owen. The First Messiah: Investigating the Savior Before Christ. San Francisco,
CA: HarperSanFrancisco, 1999.
Wise, Michael Owen. “Dating the Teacher of Righteousness and the Floruit of His Movement.” Journal of
Biblical Literature 122.1 (2003): 53–87.
Wise, Michael Owen. “The Origins and History of the Teacher’s Movement.” Pages 92–112 in The Oxford
Handbook of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Edited by Timothy H. Lim and John J. Collins. New York: Oxford
CHAPTER THIRTY
Science Fiction in the Dead

Sea Scrolls: The Case of Mary
Shelley’s Frankenstein and the
Nephilim
HELEN R. JACOBUS
The proposal that there is a subgenre of ancient science fiction, or proto-science fiction, that can
be retrospectively applied to writers from the archaic and classical worlds who used fantasy or
actual—what we might call “scientific”—tropes in their fiction is a subject of active discussion
among modern SF writers and academics alike.1
Although the contribution of the Bible and some very well-known early Jewish literature
preserved in Christianity or early Christian literature is also acknowledged in the discourse, it is
rare and only en passant. This includes Revelation, Daniel, and 1 Enoch.2 As far as I am aware
reception from the Dead Sea Scrolls is completely absent from any studies on ancient science fiction
by those who write about the genre itself. This may be because this material is known mainly to
specialists, and much of it is obscure and fragmentary.
Similarly, for scholars of biblical studies the question of identifying anachronistic literary genres
in detail such as “ancient science fiction” within the classifications of types of early Jewish literature
has yet to find a place on the radar of reception history. This may be because we have not developed
1
B. M. Rogers and B. Eldon, “The Past Is an Undiscovered Country,” in Classical Traditions in Science Fiction, ed. B. M.
Rogers and B. Eldon (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 1–26, the authors state that they “seek to explore modern
science fiction for complex points of contact with classical traditions,” 4; A. Roberts, “SF and the Ancient Novel,” in The
History of Science Fiction, Palgrave Histories of Literature (London: Palgrave Macmillan and Online, 2016), 25–35, writing
on “The Ancient Cosmos,” Roberts comments: “eschatological fantasy might be considered a work of speculative religion
rather than science fiction but the juxtaposition of science and fiction creates a whole that works on the boundaries of
established science in a speculative fashion. Neither is this mixture of scientific enquiry and fantastical extrapolation an
uncomfortable one”; B. Stableford, Historical Dictionary of Fantasy Literature, Historical Dictionaries of Literature and
the Arts 5 (Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press, 2005), see under, “The Bible and Fantasy,” 107–8. “The Bible and Fantasy,”
107–8; however, the author solely lists key Greek and Roman classic works from the archaic to the Roman period in
his Chronology: Homer, Aesop’s fables, Aristophanes, Virgil, then Ovid, p. xiii. Note that scholars of science fiction use
the abbreviation “SF,” not “sci-fi,” which is regarded as referring to work that is commercial and includes novels at the
populist end of the spectrum, see N. Spinrad, Science Fiction in the Real World (Carbondale: South Illinois University Press,
1990), 20.
2
J. Clute and J. Grant, eds., The Encyclopedia of Fantasy (London: Orbit, 1997), see under, “Jewish Religious Literature,” 520–1.
relevant and detailed forms of literary theory using modern and contemporaneous perspectives.
However, within the history of SF, popular ancient novels (outside early Jewish legends) are
regarded by most scholars as part of the genre’s heritage.3
In this tribute to the scholarship of James H. Charlesworth, this article proposes that within
the body of extracanonical Jewish writings, a vast corpus with which he is indelibly associated
and to which we owe much of its accessibility, there are works that may be considered part of the
history, and lost history, of modern science fiction in all its guises. Arguably, should retrospective
definitions be accepted, elements of Second Temple fiction contain what may have been regarded
as imaginative and universalized stories in their own right.
These include writings that found their way into early Christian works and from thence into
Western literature from the early modern period. Our texts include those whose possible Vorlagen
are now known from the Dead Sea Scrolls that slipped into an SF-like black hole time-gap for
two thousand years. In particular, I would like to focus this discussion with an examination of
the reception of Enoch traditions on Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley’s Frankenstein; or, The Modern
Prometheus (1818), second ed. 1823, rev. 1831 (Mary Shelley, 1797–1851), which is generally
identified as the first science fiction novel.4
Although Frankenstein is the eponymous title of the book, arguably Dr. Victor Frankenstein’s
Creature (he has no name in the novella), who is the narrator, is a joint protagonist, rather
than an antagonist. He is so sensitively portrayed, despite the fact that he murders those whom
Dr. Frankenstein loves in revenge for being uncared for and abandoned by the scientist, that
the reader feels they can understand his pain. Shelley’s “hideous progeny”5 owes much to the
intense interest and sympathetic valorization of the fallen angels and the figure of Satan among the
intellectual and radical, Non-Conformist and Dissenter circles in which Mary grew up at the end
of the eighteenth century and early nineteenth century.
Her father William Godwin (1756–1836), novelist, writer, and political philosopher, the author
of Enquiry Concerning Political Justice and Its Influence on Morals and Happiness (1793), and her
mother the pioneer-feminist and novelist Mary Wollstonecraft (1759–97), author of A Vindication
of the Rights of Woman (1792) (she died eleven days after giving birth to Mary), valorized the
fallen angels as symbols of rebellion in the cause of social justice and the position of women.6
3
Of interest, see the popular The Halstead Treasury of Ancient Science Fiction, ed. M. Richardson (Ultimo, NSW: Halstead
Press, 2001), extracts from Western literature include Plato’s Timeous and Critias (the myth of Atlantis) (360 bce), and the
satires Cicero’s “The Dream of Scipio” (51 bce) and Lucian Samosata’s A True Story or True Histories (second century ce).
4
B. M. Rogers B. E. Stevens, eds., “Introduction,” in Classical Traditions in Science Fiction (Oxford: Oxford University
Press), 1–5; B. Stableford, “Frankenstein and the Origins of Science Fiction,” in Anticipations: Essays on Early Science
Fiction and Precursors, ed. D. Seed (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1995), 46–57. The page numbers in this essay
are taken from Mary Shelley, Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus, ed. M. Hindle (London: Penguin Classics, 1986)
[1831 edition, the third and final version]. The 1831 edition is published without an editor’s introduction in Mary Shelley,
Frankenstein, Or, The Modern Prometheus (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015). The 1818 edition in three volumes
was published anonymously. Shelley’s name first appeared on the second edition published in 1923, edited by her father
William Godwin; for comprehensive online critical editions and background publications, see Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley,
Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus, ed. Stuart Curran, http://knarf.english.upenn.edu/index.html.
5
Mary Shelley’s introduction to the 1831 edition, Frankenstein, 56.
6
In Political Justice, Godwin wrote, “Why did Satan rebel against his maker? It was, as he himself informs us, because he
saw no sufficient reason for that extreme inequality of rank and power which the creator assumed”; W. Godwin, Enquiry
Concerning Political Justice and Its Influence on Morals and Happiness, ed. Isaac Kramnick (Harmondsworth: Penguin,
Science Fiction in the Dead Sea Scrolls 457
Godwin and Wollstonecraft are credited with refashioning “Milton’s Satan into a mythic vehicle
for controversial writing.”7
The later group of Romantics to which Mary Shelley’s husband Percy Bysshe Shelley, William
Blake, and Lord Byron were a part further subverted the Christian reception of the fallen angels
and magnified the trope by using the concept as a metaphor for the transgression of social and
moral boundaries. The group were labeled the Satanic School by the Romantic poet Robert Southey
as a term of approbation, which they adopted.8
The interest in the fallen angels, stripped of their moralistic Christian veneer in the radical and
the Satanic Romantic movements, postdated the discovery of the 1 Enoch manuscripts in Abyssinia,
by James Bruce, in 1773. Although not translated into English for some forty years, until 1821 by
Richard Laurence (1760–1838),9 its publication would have been anticipated, particularly by the
religious outliers, radicals, and poets alike in the late modern period10 and certainly by Western
scholars since the book’s existence was well-known.11
For example, no sooner had the ink dried on Laurence’s English translation of The Book of
Enoch than artists, including William Blake, who, like Mary Wollstonecraft was also was part
of the Non-Conformist movement, produced sketches to illustrate the apocryphal book. Among
these are two sexualized images of the union between the sons of god and the daughters of men.
Blake depicted the erotic transgression of sexual boundaries between heavenly and earthly beings,
including an image that depicted one of the Nephilim as a giant in flames. They are among the very
first images to portray the actual myth of the Watchers (dated ca. 1822).12
The publication of the translation of The Book of Enoch just three years after the publication
of Frankenstein thus ended the mystery of what 1 Enoch contained. There is no evidence from
Godwin’s diaries, in which he named every person that he met over 48 years,13 that he ever
1976), 309; N. Forsyth, The Satanic Epic (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2003), 2; and R. Sharrock, “Godwin
on Milton’s Satan,” Notes and Queries n.s. 9 (1962): 463–5. On Wollstonecraft, see S. Blakemore, “Rebellious Reading: The
Doubleness of Wollstonecraft’s Subversion of Paradise Lost,” Texas Studies in Literature and Language 34 (1992): 451–80
at 462–6. A reference point on this subject is: Mary Wollstonecraft, A Vindication of the Rights of Woman with Strictures on
Moral Subjects, new ed. (London: Unwin, 1891), 75 n.1, on Milton’s “paradisaical” Adam and Eve in Paradise Lost, “I have,
with conscious dignity, or Satanic pride, turned to hell for sublimer objects”; A. Cracium, “Romantic Satanism and the Rise
of Nineteenth-Century Women’s Poetry,” New Literary History 34 (2003): 699–721.
7
P. A. Schock, Romantic Satanism: Myth and the Historical Moment in Blake, Shelley, and Byron (Houndmills,
Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003), 25–34 at 34.
8
Shock, Romantic Satanism, 18, 81, 101.
9
R. Laurence, The Book of Enoch the Prophet (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1821).
10
For a summary of the reception history of Enoch traditions in the early modern period, see A. Hessayon, “Og King of
Bashan, Enoch and the Books of Enoch: Extra-Canonical Texts and Interpretations of Genesis 6: 1-4,” in Scripture and
Scholarship in Early Modern England, ed. A. Hessayon and N. Keene (London: Ashgate, 2006), 4–40.
11
T. M. Ehro and L. T. Stuckenbruck, “A Manuscript History of Ethiopic Enoch,” JSP 23 (2013): 87–133.
12
“Two Angels Descending to a Daughter of Man,” and “An Angel Telling the Daughter of Man the Secrets of Sin,” in the
National Gallery of Art, Rosenwald Collection, Library of Congress, Washington, DC; G. E. Bentley Jr, “Blake and the
Antients (sic): A Prophet with Honour among the Sons of God,” Huntington Library Quarterly (1983): 46: 1–17; G. E.
Bentley Jr, “A Jewel in an Ethiop’s Ear: The Book of Enoch as Inspiration for William Blake, John Flaxman, Thomas Moore,
and Richard Westall,” in Blake in His Time, ed. R. N. Essick and D. Pearce (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1978),
213–15 at 232; and A. R. Brown, “Blake’s Drawings for the Book of Enoch,” Burlington Magazine for Connoisseurs 77.450
(1940): 80–1, 83–5, pls. I–II.
13
V. Myers, D. O’Shaughnessy, and M. Philip, ed., The Diary of William Godwin, 2010, http://godwindiary.bodleian.ox.ac.
uk/.
entertained Laurence, although the latter was the Regius Professor of Hebrew in Oxford (1814–22)
during this period and the former wrote and published classic biblical stories for children.14
It is evident from Frankenstein, which is, unquestionably, a dark mirror reflecting a hell version
of the creation of Adam in Gen 1:26–27, and his dramatic persona in Paradise Lost15 that Mary
grew up well-versed in biblical literature and within nonestablishment Christianity. The emotional
heart of the novel, the Creature’s pain, which she explicitly developed, so piercingly, from Adam’s
cry in Paradise Lost, is quoted on the title page of the 1818 edition of Frankenstein:
Did I request thee, Maker, from my Clay
To mould me Man? Did I solicit thee
From darkness to promote me?16
The novel equally strongly references the reception of the myth of the fallen angels as it appears
as a source in John Milton’s Paradise Lost (1667, rev. 1674) and Paradise Regained (1671), both of
which she had read, at times together with her husband.17 She was to reuse and develop Milton’s
humanized, antihero character of Satan to question traditional religious ideas about the nature of
evil, freewill, and redemption in her descriptions of the Creature’s suffering and fate. Mary Shelley
also differed in her use of Wollstonecraft’s Satanism by showing that the metaphorical rebel angel
may not be able to effect change and transformation of the establishment for the good, or for
emancipation.
However, the reason the novel became a classic was because she introduced the fictionalized use
of plausible modern science (galvanism)18 to produce a composite sentient being, overshadowing
the elements of extrabiblical reception in her monster which have been lost in the dramatizations of
the work for a mass audience. Shelley’s use of earthly science lifted the narrative from the category
of fantasy, or Gothic horror, which it is as well, into the new category of science fiction. The novel
14
W. Scolfield (pseudonym for William Godwin), Bible Stories: Memorable Acts of the Ancient Patriarchs, Judges and Kings;
Extracted from Their Original Histories, for the Use of Children, 1st ed. (London: R. Phillips, 1802). There are two volumes.
The histories begin with Abraham. Godwin does not appear to have written a story about the fallen angels.
15
J. B. Lamb, “Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and Milton’s Monstrous Myth,” Nineteenth-Century Literature 47 (1992): 303–
19, discusses the dual construct of Adam and Satan between whom the Creature must identify.
16
Milton, Paradise Lost, X 743–5; H. Darbishire, ed., Paradise Lost, vol. 1 of The Poetical Works of John Milton
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1952), 232; and R. Bentley, Milton’s Paradise Lost. A New Edition (London: Tonson, 1732),
334–5. Bentley comments, “ ‘Darkness’ is but metaphorical here, and can signify nothing but inexistence”; note v, 335.
17
J. C. Oates, “Frankenstein’s Fallen Angel,” Critical Inquiry 10 (1984): 543–54 at 553 n.1, writes:
The influence of John Milton on Frankenstein is so general as to figure on nearly every page; and certainly the very
conception of the monumental Paradise Lost stands behind the conception of Mary Shelley’s “ghost story.” According
to Christopher Small’s excellent Ariel Like a Harpy: Shelley, Mary, and Frankenstein (London: Gollancz, 1972), Mary
Shelley’s book list notes Paradise Regained as read in 1815, and in 1816 she and Shelley were both reading Paradise Lost
at intervals during the year. At one point Shelley read the long poem aloud to her, finishing it in a week in November
of 1816.
The book lists are based on P. R. Feldman and D. Scott-Kilvert, eds., The Journals of Mary Shelley, 1814–1844
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1987), see the online links to the books in Shelley’s reading lists: http://knarf.english.upenn.edu/
MShelley/reading.html.
18
See the British Library’s website with contemporaneous book illustrations, S. Rushton, “The Science
of Life and Death in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein,” https://www.bl.uk/romantics-and-victorians/articles/
the-science-of-life-and-death-in-mary-shelleys-frankenstein.
has no classical SF features such as heavenly journeys (space travel), teleportation, magic, or contact
with alien beings (such as angel guides); however, the Enoch traditions embodied in the Creature
are visible.
The monster who has no personal name in the novel but is variously called by Frankenstein,
“Devil,” “monster,” “fiend,” “wretch,” and “daemon” draws on biblical and apocryphal literature
to describe his sense of exile and estrangement from the world. He is forced to identify with Satan
but longs to be, in his eyes, the fallen angel’s parallel, Adam. The first man has an ideal body
and an earthly life after his expulsion from Eden. The nameless Creature laments that his own
creation by Frankenstein, who rejects him and to whom he refers throughout as his “creator,”
is the antithesis of the purpose of God’s creation in Gen 1:26–27. He addresses Frankenstein in
a soliloquy that parallels Adam’s monologue in Paradise Lost, and which is the novel’s running
theme: “I should have been thine Adam but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from
joy for no misdeed.”19
Milton’s epic poem itself is explicitly referenced in the story, as the Creature reads it when he
finds some books in the woods: Johann van Goethe’s The Sorrows of [Young] Werther, Plutarch’s
Parallel Lives, and Milton’s Paradise Lost (it is possible that the titles of these books sum up the
Creature’s narrative), the last “excited different and far deeper emotions.”20 He then realizes his
ontological resemblance and polar opposite state to Adam:
Like Adam, I was apparently united by no link to any other being in existence; but his state
was far different from mine in every other respect. He had come forth from the hands of
God a perfect creature, happy and prosperous, guarded by the especial care of his Creator;
he was allowed to converse with and acquire knowledge from beings of a superior nature, but
I was wretched, helpless and alone. Many times I considered Satan as the fitter emblem of my
condition.21
The Creature’s despair is reinforced when he steals Frankenstein’s papers from the scientist’s
laboratory and discovers the depth of the doctor’s deleterious feelings toward him, again using
biblical references:
Hateful day when I received life! … Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous
that even you turned from me in disgust? God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring, after his
own image; but my form is a filthy type of yours, more horrid even from the very resemblance.
Satan had his companions, fellow devils, to admire and encourage him, but I am solitary and
abhorred.22
Like Satan in Paradise Lost who progressively changes his physical incarnation until he becomes
the snake that seduces Eve in Christian mythology, the Creature also gradually transforms into a
serpent, albeit linguistically and psychologically within the context of being denied by Frankenstein
his own “Eve” and soulmate for whom he longs:
19
Shelley, Frankenstein, 142.
20
21
22
Shelley, Frankenstein, 171–2.
But it was all a dream; no Eve soothed my sorrows nor shared my thoughts; I was alone.
I remembered Adam’s supplication to his Creator. But where was mine? He had abandoned me,
and in the bitterness of my heart I cursed him.23 …
Shall each man … find a wife for his bosom, each beast have his mate, and I be alone?… I may
die, but first you, my tyrant and tormentor, shall curse the sun that gazes on your misery. Beware,
for I am fearless and therefore powerful. I will watch with the wiliness of a snake, that I may
sting with its venom. Man, you shall repent of the injuries you inflict.24
Some Frankenstein scholars suggest that physically the Creature represents the embodiment of
Milton’s Satan.25 Although it is unclear whether Satan is ugly in mythology—he is not deformed
in Paradise Lost26—the inference in Dante’s Divine Comedy, which was a key source for Milton,27
is that the giants were terrible to behold and as tall as towers.28 I would like to propose another
reason for the Creature’s misshapen, repulsive, and huge body (“about eight feet in height and
proportionably large”).29 Rather than principally for literary impact, Mary Shelley could well have
modeled his body narrative not only on Satan but also on the Enochian tradition of the offspring
of the fallen angels and the daughters of men: the Nephilim of Gen 6:4 and the giants of LXX
Gen 6:4. The motif of the fallen angels as rebels against oppression by society’s elites was deeply
familiar to her as was the expanded antediluvian legend within the dramatic arc of Paradise Lost
and Paradise Regain’d.
However, Edward Ericson observed that there is what he calls an “anomaly”: Milton used two
different reception histories of Gen 6:1–4 in separate passages of his poetry.30 One legend is that the
sons of Seth were seduced by the daughters of Cain, a myth known from St. Augustine of Hippo,31
Ephrem the Syrian, and other ancient sources32 (Paradise Lost XI 575–92, 607–9). The other is the
sons of God descended to earth and produced a race of giants with human women. These beings
transgressed the boundaries between heaven and earth; the resultant progeny misused their strength
and their wickedness and caused God to bring about the Flood (Paradise Lost XI 621–4, Paradise
23
24
Shelley, Frankenstein, 208–9.
25
Oates, “Frankenstein’s Fallen Angel,” 551, she comments, “A demon of mere human size would not have been nearly so
compelling.”
26
Forsyth, Satanic Epic, 3, “This Satan was a Romantic hero, politically admirable—and good to look at.”
27
G. F. Butler, “Fallen Angels in Dante and Milton: The ‘Commedia’ and the Gigantomachy in ‘Paradise Lost,’ ” Modern
Philology 95 (1998): 352–63.
28
Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy, trans. J. Ciardi (London: Penguin, 2003), 239–45.
29
30
E. E. Ericson Jr, “The Sons of God in Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained,” Milton Quarterly 25 (1991): 79–89 (80).
31
Augustine of Hippo, City of God (Civ. 16), cited in Thomas Aquinas, The “Summa Theologica” of St Thomas Aquinas. Part
I QQ L-LXXIV. Literally Translated by Fathers of the English Dominican Province, 2nd and rev. ed. (London: Burns Oates
and Washbourne, 1922), vol. 3.
32
Milton may also have known passages from Ephrem the Syrian (ca. 306–73): “The beautiful daughters of men whom
they saw were the daughters of Cain who adorned themselves and became a snare to the eyes of the sons of Seth.” See
E. G. Mathews Jr. and J. P. Amar, St. Ephrem the Syrian. Selected Prose Works. Commentary on Genesis, Commentary on
Exodus, Homily in Our Lord, Letter to Publius, FC 91 (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1994),
135–6; A. Y. Reed, Fallen Angels and the History of Judaism and Christianity: The Reception of Enochic Literature
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 76, 221–6; and G. W. E. Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch 1: A Commentary on the
Book of 1 Enoch, Chapters 1-36; 81-108, Hermeneia (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2001), 372–3.
Regain’d II 178–81). This is the interpretation portrayed in the early trajectory of the Book of the
Watchers, extant in Ethiopic and at Qumran (1 En. 1–36 // 4Q201–202, 4Q204–206).33 Milton could
have extracted this narrative from Josephus (Ant. 1.72–73), Justin Martyr,34 Eusebius (Praep. ev.
186c), who preserved parts of George Syncellus’ Extract of Chronography (eighth to ninth century),
and who himself used several earlier chronological sources,35 and possibly Philo (Gig. 6–8).36
Loren Stuckenbruck observes: “The reason for specifying this union as especially loathsome
is expressed: the sexual intermingling between spiritual, heavenly beings and earthly beings
of flesh and blood violates, by definition, the natural order (1 En. 15:4, 9–10). The giants are
misfits; the progeny of an illegitimate union, they are neither fully angelic nor fully human.” As
the “embodiment of the violation of the created order” they kill and devour humans and animals
and drink their blood, causing human souls to plea for divine intercession (1 En. 7:3–5, 9:1, 9b,
10:15).37 (In contrast to the Book of Watchers, the “humanity” of the giants is also expressed in
the Book of Giants from Qumran.38 The Jewish writers in the late Second Temple period did not
stereotype the giants either but made them intelligent.)39
The relevant passages in Milton’s poems reflecting different sources are as follows:
Paradise Lost XI. 575–92:
From the high neighbouring Hills, which was thir Seat
Down to the plain descended: …
Just men they seeme, and all their study bent to God aright, and know his works
Not hid, nor those things last which might preserve
33
H. Drawnel, Qumran Cave 4: The Aramaic Books of Enoch: 4Q201, 4Q202, 4Q204, 4Q205, 4Q206, 4Q207, 4Q212
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019); J. T. Milik, ed., with the collaboration of M. Black, The Books of Enoch: The
Aramaic Fragments of Qumrân Cave 4 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1976), (4Q201): 139–63, 340–3; L. Stuckenbruck,
“(4Q201:2-8), 201 frgs. 2-8. 4QEnocha ar,” in Qumran Cave 4:26 Miscellaneous Texts from Qumran, ed. S. Pfann and P.
Alexander, DJD 36 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2000), 3–7; Milik, Books of Enoch (4Q202): 164–78, 344–6; Milik, Books
of Enoch (4Q204): 178–217; Milik, Books of Enoch (4Q205): 217–25; and idem, op. cit., (4Q206): 225–44. For the list of
the correspondences in 1 Enoch, see J. A. Fitzmyer, A Guide to the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature (Grand Rapids,
MI: Eerdmans, 2008), 52–3; and F. García Martínez and E. J. C. Tigchelaar, The Dead Sea Scrolls Study Edition, 2 vols
(Leiden: Brill, 1997–8), 1:398–409, 412–27.
34
Reed, Fallen Angels, 160–76; Allen, “Milton and the Sons of God,” 74.
35
Milik, Books of Enoch, 20, 58, 72, 77, 240, and 318–19. Milik states that Syncellus cited passages from the Book of Watchers
in Greek: see under, Abbreviations, xiv, through chroniclers Panodorus of Alexandria (early fifth century) and Annianus
of Alexandria (early fifth century): 1 En. 6:1–9:4; 8:4–10:14; 15:8–16:1; Reed, Fallen Angels, 229–30, 257. She includes
Julius Africanus (third century), 118, n.89, 219, 222, n.72, 223–5. See also W. A. Adler, Time Immemorial: Archaic History
and Its Sources in Christian Chronography from Julius Africanus to George Syncellus, DOS 26 (Washington, DC: Dumbarton
Oaks Research library and Collection, 1989), 229–31; and M. Tuval, “Συναγωγὴ γιγάντων” (Prov 21:16): The Giants in the
Jewish Literature in Greek,” in Ancient Tales of Giants from Qumran and Turfan: Contexts, Traditions and Influences, ed.
M. Goff, L. T. Stuckenbruck, and E. Morano, WUNT 360 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 42 n.4; George Syncellus, The
Chronography of George Synkellos: A Byzantine Chronicle of Universal History from the Creation, trans. W. A. Adler and P.
Tuffin (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002).
36
See Tuval, “Giants,” 41–57.
37
L. T. Stuckenbruck, The Myth of the Rebellious Angels: Studies in Second Temple Judaism and New Testament Texts
(Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 14–15.
38
M. Goff, “The Sons of the Watchers in the Book of Watchers and the Qumran Book of Giants: Contexts and Prospects,”
in Ancient Tales of Giants from Qumran and Turfan: Contexts, Traditions and Influences, ed. M. Goff, L. T. Stuckenbruck,
and E. Morano, WUNT 360 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 115–28.
39
Tuval, “Giants,” 57.
Freedom and Peace to men: they on the Plain

Long had not walkt, when from the Tents behold
A Beavie of fair Women, richly gay
In Gems and wanton dress; to the Harp they sung
Soft amorous Ditties, and in dance came on:
The men though grave, ey’d them, and let thir eyes
Rove without rein, till the amorous Net
Fast caught, they lik’d, and each his liking chose; (cf. Gen 6:2; ‫)בחר‬40
Those tents thou sawest so pleasant, were the Tents of wickedness, wherein shall dwell his Race
Who slew his Brother;41
To these that sober Race of Men, who lives
Religious titl’d them the Sons of God,
Shall yield up all thir virtue, all thir fame
Ignobly,42
Paradise Lost XI. 627:
The World erelong a world of tears must weepe.43
Paradise Lost XI. 683–94: The Archangel Michael shows Adam his third vision:
These are the product
Of those ill-mated Marriages thou saw’st;
Where good with bad were matcht, who of themselves
Abhor to join; and by imprudence mixt,
Produce prodigious Births of bodie or mind.
Such were these Giants, men of high renown;
For in those dayes Might onely shall be admir’d,
And Valour and Heroic Vertu call’d;
To overcome in Battel, and subdue
Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite
Man-slaughter, shall be held the highest pitch
Of human Glorie,44
Paradise Lost XI. 700–703: Enoch is shown to Adam (line number 700 is unlikely to be a
coincidence):
40
Darbishire, Poetical Works, 1:256.
41
42
43
44
But hee the sev’nth from thee, whom thou beheldst

The onely righteous in a World perverse,
And therefore hated,45
Exempt from Death; to shew thee what reward
Awaits the good, the rest what punishment;46
The book concludes with Adam being shown a vision of the Flood. The legend is echoed in Paradise
Regain’d II. 178–81, where Satan addresses Belial in Paradise:
Before the Flood thou with thy lusty Crew,
False titl’d Sons of God, roaming the Earth
Cast wanton eyes on the daughters of men,
And coupl’d with them, and begot a race.47
Interestingly, in Paradise Regain’d II. 178–81, the Sons of God are “lusty,” rather than the daughters
of men, a reversal of the sexual appetites represented in Paradise Lost. Milton also uses a reference to
“giant angels” (Paradise Lost VII. 605), who some scholars identify as a parallel between Satan’s angels
and the Titians of Greek mythology;48 however, there is no reference to Gen 6:1–4 in these verses.
Incidentally, although modern literary scholars have not traced this story of the origins of the
sons of God back to the Dead Sea Scrolls, there has been a debate about whether Milton used an
unknown source. Before the discovery and publication of the Qumran scrolls, Grant McColley
argued that Milton must have accessed an unidentified manuscript. McColley cited a passage from
the Book of Luminaries (1 En. 72–82), which, unknown to him, is also similar to a fragment in
the Aramaic Astronomical Book.49 His theory that Milton had used an unpublished manuscript
was rejected; however, no evidence was cited in return to repudiate or find an explanation for his
hypothesis.50
45
46
47
H. Darbishire, ed., Paradise Regain’d, Samson Agonistes, Poems upon Several Occasions, both English and Latin, vol. 2 of
The Poetical Works of John Milton (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1963), 20.
48
R. H. West, “Milton’s ‘Giant Angels’,” MLN 67 (1952): 21–3; and J. Steadman, “Milton’s ‘Giant Angels’: An Additional
Parallel,” MLN 75 (1960): 551–3.
49
G. McColley, “The Book of Enoch and Paradise Lost,” HTR 31 (1938): 21–39. In Paradise Lost III 729–31, Uriel informs
Satan: [the moon] “Still ending, still renewing / with borrowed light her countenance triform / Hence fills and empties to
enlighten the earth/”; “countenance triform” refers to the moon’s three faces: first crescent, full moon, and waning crescent;
see S. Orgel and J. Goldberg, eds., Paradise Lost, Oxford World Classics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), n. to
line 730, p. 83. McColley argues that the moon which empties itself of light [McColley’s italics, p. 38] is similar to 1 En.
78:11–14. Here Uriel describes to Enoch the moon’s three phases and contains a reference to the moon’s waning until “its
disc remains empty, without light” (line 14), trans. G. W. E. Nickelsburg and J. C. VanderKam, 1 Enoch 2: A Commentary on
the Book of 1 Enoch Chapters 37–82 (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2012), 500. The passage in the Book of Luminaries
may also arguably be compared to the Aramaic fragment from Qumran, 4QAstronomical Enocha (4Q209) frag 6, line 9. The
fragment contains a day-by-day description of the waning moon until it is hidden by the sun on the last day of the month
(the conjunction), “and its disc rises empty of all light hidden with the s[un]”; so H. Drawnel, The Aramaic Astronomical
Book (4Q208-4Q211) from Qumran (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 156–9; cf. Milik, Books of Enoch, 284.
50
A. Williams, “Milton and the Book of Enoch: An Alternative Hypothesis,” HTR 33 (1940): 291–9, does not offer a
solution to the problem; cf. D. C. Allen, “Milton and the Sons of God,” MLN 61 (1946): 73–9.
Ericson suggested that Milton “double borrowed” from his sources, incorporating two
versions of the legend.51 This proposal may also apply to Mary Shelley’s creation: it is understood
by Frankenstein scholars that the Adam/Satan parallel was taken from Milton but not that the
Creature’s gigantic form came from LXX Gen 6:4, although that “race” is represented in Milton’s
poetry. Since the Creature has also been unnaturally created, the Nephilim/Giants are an appropriate
parallel with Frankenstein’s eight-foot monster. His ugliness reflects the antidivine nature of his
origins, which gigantism alone does not achieve. Since the body imagery in Frankenstein is such a
key feature of the narrative, it is possible that Shelley composited the Enoch traditions of the giants
born from “ill-mated marriages” (of the Sethite/Sons of God and Cainite line that produced mighty
Giants) in Paradise Lost XI, and the offspring of the “false titl’d sons of God” in Paradise Regain’d
II to physically symbolize the unnatural origins of her creation that contravened and offended the
divine order.
Like Mary Shelley’s “hideous progeny,” the Giants defied the biblical laws of natural creation;
like Frankenstein’s Creature, the Giants did not ask to be born, and like the lonely, murderous
monster who finally walked into oblivion on the sea of frozen ice and darkness in the mountains, the
wicked Giants of the Book of Watchers perished in the Flood (more or less).52 Thus, I would suggest
that not only is the polarized construct of the exiled Adam and Satan acknowledged in the Creature’s
conflicted and tormented psyche but that Mary Shelley gave him a physique to resemble the gigantic
offspring of the Sons of God—the fallen angels being a major symbolic theme among those closest to
her. She thereby gave her everlasting monstrous invention a form that embodied the eternal outsider,
outcast, and misfit, the perfect dramatic antihero. By reviving and giving the ancient Jewish legend a
new spark of life, Mary Shelley produced the first work of modern science fiction.
1. BIBLIOGRAPHY
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Bentley, Gerald E., Jr. “A Jewel in an Ethiop’s Ear: The Book of Enoch as Inspiration for William Blake, John
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Latin. Vol. 2 of The Poetical Works of John Milton. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1963. First published 1955.
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Ehro, Ted M., and Loren T. Stuckenbruck. “A Manuscript History of Ethiopic Enoch.” JSP 23 (2013): 87–133.
Ericson, Edward E., Jr. “The Sons of God in Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained.” Milton Quarterly 25
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PART FIVE
History of Scholarship
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Of Moses, Mountains, and

Models: Joseph Smith’s Book of
Moses in Dialogue with the Greek
Life of Adam and Eve
DAVID CALABRO
1. INTRODUCTION
Many today readily associate Joseph Smith (1805–1844), the American prophet who founded The
Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, with the Book of Mormon, a revealed history of a
branch of the house of Israel in ancient America. Less well-known are Joseph Smith’s revelations of
para-biblical texts. These include scattered quotations of biblical passages in the Book of Mormon,
many of which differ from the received biblical text or belong to books that are not in our Bibles;
the Book of Moses and other portions of Joseph Smith’s “New Translation” of the Bible; the Book
of Abraham; and portions of the Doctrine and Covenants.
Even a cursory comparison of these texts with the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha
demonstrates striking similarities. We find among Joseph Smith’s para-biblical texts several
different narratives of Adam’s repentance and redemption,1 a summary of a testament of Adam
that is said to have been written in “the book of Enoch,”2 an apocalyptic heavenly ascent of
Enoch,3 an account of Noah’s revelations and preaching,4 expansive references to Melchizedek,5
a first-person record of Abraham including an account of his near-sacrifice at the hands of his
idolatrous father as well as a vision of the cosmos,6 and an account of a mountaintop vision by
1
Alma 12:22–35; Moses 5:1–15 and 58–59; and 6:48–68. The temple endowment revealed by Joseph Smith also included
“a recital of … the condition of our first parents in the Garden of Eden, their disobedience and consequent expulsion from
that blissful abode, their condition in the lone and dreary world when doomed to live by labor and sweat” and “the plan of
redemption by which the great transgression may be atoned.” See J. E. Talmage, The House of the Lord: A Study of Holy
Sanctuaries, Ancient and Modern (Salt Lake City, UT: Deseret Book, 1974), 83–4.
2
Doctrine and Covenants 107:41–57.
3
Moses 7.
4
Moses 8.
5
Alma 13:10–20 and JST Gen 14:25–40.
6
Abraham 1:1–20 and 3:1–21. On this book’s controversial connection with the Joseph Smith Egyptian Papyri, see John
Gee, A Guide to the Joseph Smith Papyri (Provo, UT: Foundation for Ancient Research and Mormon Studies, 2000); H. M.
Moses.7 Hugh Nibley has documented extensive parallels between Joseph Smith’s texts and the
pseudepigrapha of Enoch and Abraham.8 Others, including the honoree of this volume, have
furthered Nibley’s observations.9
Compared to most textual productions of the ancient world, the manner in which Joseph Smith
produced his revelations is very well documented, at least with regard to the outward process. We
know from eyewitness accounts as well as from the original manuscripts that Joseph Smith dictated
his revelations to scribes. In the case of the Book of Mormon, he used instruments that he called
the “seer stone” and the “Urim and Thummim.” Eyewitnesses to moments of the revelatory process
report that Joseph Smith had no book at hand (not even the gold plates he was translating from),
yet it is not clear if this was the case throughout the work—thus we do not know if he referred to a
Bible as he dictated biblical passages such as the long quotation of Isaiah 2–14 in 2 Nephi 12–24.10
In the case of his “New Translation” of the Bible, Joseph used a copy of the King James version that
contained the Old and New Testaments and the Apocrypha. Reading aloud from that Bible, Joseph
dictated the text, including the inspired changes, to his scribes.11 This process of dictating to scribes
also applies to most of the revelations in the Doctrine and Covenants.
The abundant parallels between Joseph Smith’s revelations and ancient literature, combined
with the documentation of his work, bode well for comparative study. Typological comparisons of
Joseph Smith with religious figures of antiquity have been advanced before; prominent among these
comparisons is that of Joseph Smith and Muhammad.12 But these comparisons focus on the historical
typology of prophethood and neglect, for the most part, the details of the texts that these prophets
revealed. Detailed comparisons between texts have been done, including some that deal with the
Pseudepigrapha, but these have appeared mainly in the apologetic arena. These studies focus on
substantiating Joseph Smith’s claims of translating ancient texts through divine power. The main
argument is that Joseph Smith, being a relatively uneducated man, lacked access to ancient texts and
Marquardt, “Joseph Smith’s Egyptian Papers: A History,” in The Joseph Smith Egyptian Papyri: A Complete Edition, by R.
K. Ritner (Salt Lake City, UT: Signature Books, 2013), 11–68.
7
Moses 1.
8
H. Nibley, Enoch the Prophet (Salt Lake City, UT: Deseret Book, 1986), 23–40, 138–281; H. Nibley, Abraham in Egypt,
2nd ed. (Salt Lake City, UT: Deseret Book, 2000), 11–26.
9
See J. H. Charlesworth, “Messianism in the Pseudepigrapha and the Book of Mormon,” in Reflections on Mormonism: Judaeo-
Christian Parallels, ed. T. G. Madsen (Provo, UT: BYU Religious Studies Center, 1978), 99–137. Subsequent studies have not
only added to the comparisons but also addressed problems raised by the comparative enterprise. For a recent contribution
to the dialogue, see J. M. Bradshaw and R. Dahle, “Could Joseph Smith Have Drawn on Ancient Manuscripts When He
Translated the Story of Enoch?: Recent Updates on a Persistent Question,” Interpreter: A Journal of Latter-day Saint Faith
and Scholarship 33 (2019): 305–74.
10
Some mention that Joseph saw through the seer stone the English words he was to dictate, although this is questionable,
since those who report it could not have had direct knowledge of what Joseph saw. See D. C. Peterson, “A Response: ‘What
the Manuscripts and the Eyewitnesses Tell Us about the Translation of the Book of Mormon,’ ” in Uncovering the Original
Text of the Book of Mormon: History and Findings of the Critical Text Project, ed. M. G. Bradford and A. V. P. Coutts (Provo,
UT: Foundation for Ancient Research and Mormon Studies, 2002), 67–71.
11
During the latter portion of the work, Joseph dictated only the passages that differed from the King James version, and
deletions and insertion marks were added to the Bible copy. See S. H. Faulring, K. P. Jackson, and R. J. Matthews, eds.,
Joseph Smith’s New Translation of the Bible: Original Manuscripts (Provo, UT: BYU Religious Studies Center, 2004), 3–8.
12
A. H. Green and L. P. Goldrup, “Joseph Smith, an American Muhammad? An Essay on the Perils of Historical Analogy,”
Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought 6 (Spring 1971): 46–58; and A. H. Green, “The Muhammad-Joseph Smith
Comparison: Subjective Metaphor or a Sociology of Prophethood?” in Mormons and Muslims: Spiritual Foundations and
Modern Manifestations, ed. S. J. Palmer (Provo, UT: BYU Religious Studies Center, 2002), 111–33.
Of Moses, Mountains, and Models 471
therefore could not have derived his revelations from them, so the great quantity of parallels points
to the revealed scriptures being authentic ancient texts restored by revelation.13 Although these
studies break important comparative ground, they have unfortunately tended to shape the subject
into a Boolean question of authenticity, thus guaranteeing a confessionally limited readership.
It seems to me that a careful comparison between Joseph Smith’s revealed ancient texts and the
Pseudepigrapha could yield significant insights that have not been realized before. Smith, as an
exceptionally well-documented revealer of ancient sacred texts, could provide a heuristic model
informing our understanding of the far lesser-known writers of the Pseudepigrapha. The modus
operandi of the writers of the Pseudepigrapha has been a matter of controversy since R. H. Charles
advanced his famous theory that the writers of the Pseudepigrapha put their works under the
names of ancient prophets in order to advance new doctrines in a world in which the Law was
regarded as supreme and the scriptural canon as closed.14 More recently, D. S. Russell has argued
that the Pseudepigrapha reflect actual revelatory experiences in which “the apocalyptic visionary
saw the ancient patriarch or prophet being introduced to these mysteries and in so doing he was
introduced to them himself,” a view that suggests interesting points of comparison with Joseph
Smith.15 Supplying a heuristic model based on Joseph Smith would raise many new questions. For
instance, we might wonder whether a textual rather than a visionary idea of revelation could apply
to the creation of the Pseudepigrapha—that is, contrary to Russell’s theory, perhaps it was the text
rather than a vision of the patriarch that was revealed. But the validity of such a model depends on
a careful comparison of the texts themselves. Not only are the texts the only concrete evidence we
have for the production of the Pseudepigrapha, but as we shall see below, some features of the texts
carry implications for the contexts in which the texts were produced.
My purpose in this essay is to present a comparison of two texts: Joseph Smith’s Book of Moses
and the Greek Life of Adam and Eve (henceforth GLAE).16 My focus is not only on the content
of the narratives but also on structural aspects such as discourse frames and narrative flow. The
similarities between these texts have to be viewed typologically, since the historical circumstances
preclude any question of direct borrowing.17 This comparison shows that the Book of Moses and
13
The works by Hugh Nibley cited above are classic examples of this approach.
14
R. H. Charles, The Book of Enoch (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1912), x; R. H. Charles, Eschatology (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1913), 196–205; and R. H. Charles, ed., The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament, 2 vols.
(Oxford: Clarendon, 1913), 2:viii–ix. S. E. Robinson, “Lying for God: the Uses of Apocrypha,” in Apocryphal Writings
and the Latter-day Saints, ed. C. W. Griggs (Salt Lake City, UT: Greg Kofford Books, 2007), 133–54, accepts this thesis
and contrasts the revealed nature of Latter-day Saint scripture. For a critique of this approach, see D. Calabro, “An Inviting
Exploration,” review of Exploring the Apocrypha from a Latter-day Saint Perspective, by J. W. Ludlow, Interpreter: A Journal
of Latter-day Saint Faith and Scholarship 30 (2018): 49–51.
15
D. S. Russell, The Method and Message of Jewish Apocalyptic (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster John Knox Press, 1964), 127–
39, 158–77; and D. S. Russell, The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha: Patriarchs and Prophets in Early Judaism (Philadelphia,
PA: Fortress Press, 1987), 8–12. For some points of comparison, see Calabro, “Inviting Exploration,” 51.
16
Recent scholarship has rejected the traditional designation “Apocalypse of Moses” on the grounds that this is based solely
on the Prologue and has nothing to do with the content of the text. Both titles are found in the manuscripts, and each has
merit. See M. de Jonge and J. Tromp, The Life of Adam and Eve and Related Literature (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press,
1997), 12, and the section on “Revelatory Framing” in the present article.
17
GLAE was first published by Tischendorf over three decades after the Book of Moses was completed. E. C. Baldwin,
“Paradise Lost and the Apocalypse of Moses,” Journal of English and Germanic Philology 24 (1925): 383–6, argues that
Milton borrowed from GLAE in his work Paradise Lost; the argument relies on Milton’s knowledge of Latin, Greek, and
Syriac and the circulation of copies of GLAE in Europe, all factors that do not apply to Joseph Smith. It is also unlikely that
GLAE both belong to the same category of revelatory literature, namely, that of revealed ritual
narrative. The specific aspects of this category of literature, aspects that these two texts have in
common, are informative as to the manner and purposes of the production of the texts.
2. THE BOOK OF MOSES

The Book of Moses is the first part of Joseph Smith’s “New Translation” of the Bible. He dictated this
part between June 1830 and February 1831. The original manuscript, called OT1, is wholly extant.
It consists of portions written by five different scribes at Joseph Smith’s dictation. Additional sources
for the early history of the text include a copy of OT1, called OT2 (which is also fully extant), and
the original publications of portions of the text in the periodicals Times and Seasons and Evening
and Morning Star.18 The Book of Moses is now part of the Pearl of Great Price, one of the canonical
books of scripture of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Based on manuscript sources
and markers within the narrative, the Book of Moses is easily divisible into six discrete sections:19
Moses 1: Prologue describing Moses’ encounter with God on an unnamed mountain and framing
what follows as a revelation to Moses
Moses 2–4: Account of the creation and events in the garden of Eden, corresponding (although
with significant differences) to Genesis 1–3
Moses 5: Events after the expulsion from the garden: Adam and Eve have posterity; Adam offers
sacrifice and an angel reveals its purpose; Cain murders Abel
Moses 6: Birth of Seth, genealogy from Seth to Enoch, account of Enoch’s preaching; Enoch
gives an account of Adam’s baptism
Moses 7: Enoch’s heavenly ascent and vision
Moses 8: Revelations and preaching of Noah
I have argued elsewhere, based on an internal analysis of the text and on Joseph Smith’s revelation
of temple ordinances linked to the text, that the Book of Moses is ritual literature. Specifically, it
is the script of a ritual drama ostensibly performed in ancient times, reenacting the events of the
creation, the fall, and the redemption of Adam and Eve.20 Thus the book not only represents a
stage in Joseph Smith’s developing theology, but it is also a performance of the past, allowing one
to place latter-day temple ordinances in the context of an ancient tradition.
3. THE GREEK LIFE OF ADAM AND EVE

There are thirty known manuscript witnesses to GLAE, some complete and some fragmentary,
ranging in date from the eleventh to the seventeenth centuries.21 The original date, language, and
Joseph Smith borrowed indirectly via Paradise Lost, as none of the similarities that Baldwin notes are found in the Book
of Moses.
18
See Faulring, Jackson, and Matthews, eds., Joseph Smith’s New Translation, 3–8.
19
For the rationale behind the following breakdown, see D. Calabro, “Joseph Smith and the Architecture of Genesis,” in The
Temple: Ancient and Restored, ed. S. D. Ricks and D. W. Parry (Salt Lake City, UT: Eborn Books, 2016), 165–7.
20
See Calabro, “Joseph Smith and the Architecture of Genesis,” 165–81.
21
De Jonge and Tromp, Life of Adam and Eve, 31; and M. D. Johnson, “Life of Adam and Eve (First Century A.D.): A New
Translation and Introduction,” in Expansions of the “Old Testament” and Legends, Wisdom and Philosophical Literature,
religious context of the narrative are a matter of controversy. With Johnson and others, I think
it likely that the Greek text derives from a now-lost Hebrew original produced around the first
century ce.22 The earliest manuscript witnesses would thus postdate the original composition of
the work by about 1,000 years. Other versions derived from the Greek, most of which differ
substantially from it, are found in Latin, Armenian, Slavonic, Georgian, and Coptic.23 Tromp has
recently produced an eclectic critical text based on a careful textual stemma of the manuscripts and
versions.24 The structure of the Greek text, which is reasonably well established despite variation
in some witnesses, is as follows:
GLAE Prologue: Prologue attributing the text to a revelation by God to Moses on Mount Sinai
GLAE 1: Birth of Cain and Abel after the expulsion from Paradise
GLAE 2–3: Cain’s murder of Abel
GLAE 4:1–5:1: Birth of Seth and other children to Adam and Eve
GLAE 5:2–3: Adam becomes ill and gathers his posterity
GLAE 5:4–8:2: Seth enquires about illness, and Adam explains about the fall and God’s curse
of seventy plagues
GLAE 9–13: Seth and Eve try to obtain oil from the tree of Paradise, but Michael tells them that
they cannot obtain it until the day of resurrection
GLAE 14–30: Seth and Eve return to the tent where Adam is lying; Eve tells their posterity the
complete story of the fall and events immediately after the expulsion from Paradise
GLAE 31–43: Death and burial of Adam and Eve
4. THE BOOK OF MOSES AND GLAE

The Book of Moses and GLAE are very similar in terms of their content. On a basic level, both deal
with Adam and Eve in paradise and after their expulsion. Both texts also expand on the biblical
account in similar ways. For instance, both texts describe the devil and the serpent as two separate
beings, and the devil first persuades the serpent and then uses it as his “vessel.”25
Despite these similarities in content, the closest parallels between the Book of Moses and GLAE
are found in the deeper, structural aspects, such as the organization of frames of discourse, the
Prayers, Psalms, and Odes, Fragments of Lost Judeo-Hellenistic Works, vol. 2 of The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, ed. J. H.
Charlesworth (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1985), 249–50.
22
Johnson, “Life of Adam and Eve,” 251. De Jonge and Tromp, Life of Adam and Eve, 65–78, argue that the text was
composed originally in Greek, in a Christian environment, and between the second and fourth centuries. This view is
based in part on the work of Stone and Bohak, who attempt to explain previously recognized signs of a Hebrew original
as typical Greek features. See Michael E. Stone, A History of the Literature of Adam and Eve (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press,
1992), 42–53. However, some of the evidence for a Hebrew origin remains persuasive to me. For example, in GLAE 9:3, ἐκ
τοῦ δένδρου ἐν ᾧ ῥέει τὸ ἔλαιον ἐξ αὐτοῦ “from the tree from which oil flows out of it” clearly reflects the Hebrew use of a
resumptive pronoun in a relative clause; Stone and Bohak (History of the Literature, 49) cite this passage along with GLAE
13:2, but they quote only the latter passage, which uses good idiomatic Greek: περὶ τοῦ ξύλου ἐν ᾧ ῥέει τὸ ἔλαιον “about the
tree from which oil flows.”
23
De Jonge and Tromp, Life of Adam and Eve, 18–27 and 40–1.
24
J. Tromp, The Life of Adam and Eve in Greek: A Critical Edition (Leiden: Brill, 2005).
25
GLAE 16; Moses 4:5–6. This motif is a mainstay of later Jewish, Christian, and Islamic lore. For a general overview of
GLAE and its Latin version in terms of its similarities to Latter-day Saint scripture, see S. E. Robinson, “The Book of Adam
implicit invocation of ritual contexts, and the specific ways in which the texts construct distant past
milieux. These deeper similarities suggest that GLAE, like the Book of Moses, is best understood as a
revealed ritual narrative. In the remainder of this study, I will detail the specifics of this comparison
and explain how it points to a common genre.
4.1. Revelatory Framing

The first chapter of the Book of Moses is a lengthy prologue that frames the following chapters (on
the creation, the garden of Eden, and events after the expulsion, corresponding to Genesis 1–5) as
a revelation given by God to Moses. The opening words of this chapter are indicative:
The words of God which he spake unto Moses at a time when Moses was caught up into an
exceeding high Mountain & he saw God face to face & he talked with him (Moses 1:1–2)26
Moses 2 (corresponding to Genesis 1) continues the frame introduced in Moses 1, beginning as
follows:
And it came to pass that the Lord spake unto Moses saying Behold I reveal unto you concerning
this Heaven & this Earth write the words which I speak I am the beginning & the end the Almighty
God by mine only begotten I created these things yea in the beginning I created the Heaven &
the Earth upon which thou standest & the Earth was without form & void (Moses 2:1–2)
This framing with God as the narrator is not carried through consistently. As soon as Adam and Eve
are driven from the garden (Moses 5:1), there is a shift in the framing of the narrative; after this
point, God is referred to in the third person:
& Adam called upon the name of the Lord & Eve also his wife & they heard the voice of the
Lord from the way towards the garden of Eden speaking unto them & they saw him not for they
were shut out from his presence & he gave unto them commandment that they should worship
the Lord their God & should offer the firstlings of their flocks for an offering unto the Lord &
Adam was obediant unto the commandments of the Lord & after many days an angel of the Lord
appeared unto Adam (Moses 5:4)
In remarkably similar fashion, GLAE begins with a prologue that frames the following text as a
revelation by God to Moses on Mount Sinai. The eclectic text given by Tromp reads as follows:
Διήγησις καὶ πολιτεία Ἀδὰμ καὶ Εὕας τῶν πρωτοπλάστων ἀποκαλυφθεῖσα παρὰ θεοῦ Μωϋσῇ τῷ θεράποντι
αὐτοῦ ὅτε τὰς πλάκας τοῦ νόμου ἐδέξατο ἐκ χειρὸς αὐτοῦ διδαχθεὶς ὑπὸ τοῦ ἀρχαγγέλου Μιχαήλ.
Narrative and life of Adam and Eve the first-formed, revealed by God to Moses his servant
when he received the tablets of the Law from his hand, having been instructed by the archangel
Michael.27
in Judaism and Early Christianity,” in The Man Adam, ed. J. F. McConkie and R. L. Millet (Salt Lake City, UT: Bookcraft,
1990), 141–3.
26
In this and all following quotations from the Book of Moses, I give the text according to the original manuscript, OT1,
including the idiosyncratic capitalization, spelling, and lack of punctuation.
27
The text here quoted follows the eclectic edition of Tromp, Life of Adam and Eve in Greek. All translations of Greek and
Hebrew herein are my own.
Some modern scholars are uncomfortable with this prologue, as it does not seem related to the
text that follows. M. D. Johnson goes so far as to say that it is “certainly a later addition to
the Greek text.”28 Yet there is no textual basis for this assertion. The prologue is attested in the
earliest and most conservative manuscript sources.29 One can also challenge the frequently stated
but subjective claim that the prologue has no thematic relationship to the rest of the text. The
prologue’s mention of Moses receiving the revelation at the time when he received the “tablets of
the law of the covenant” provides an authoritative context for GLAE’s commandment concerning
a six-day mourning period followed by a day of rejoicing (43:2–3), a commandment not found in
the Pentateuch.30 There is also a thematic inclusio in the “teaching by the archangel Michael” with
Moses in the prologue and with Seth at the end of the narrative (43:1–3).
The beginning of GLAE, from 1:1 to 3:1, can be read either from the viewpoint of a third-
person narrator or, in light of the prologue, from God’s viewpoint. However, as with the Book of
Moses, shortly after Adam and Eve have been expelled from Paradise, a clear third-person narrative
voice emerges:
καὶ λέγει ὁ θεὸς Μιχαὴλ τῷ ἀρχαγγέλῳ· εἰπὲ τῷ Ἀδὰμ ὅτι τὸ μυστήριον ὃ οἶδας μὴ ἀναγγείλῃς Κάϊν
τῷ υἱῷ σου, ὅτι ὀργῆς υἱός ἐστιν. ἀλλὰ μὴ λυποῦ· δώσω σοι γὰρ ἀντ’ αὐτοῦ ἕτερον υἱόν. οὗτος
δηλώσει πάντα ὅσα ποιήσεις. σὺ δὲ μὴ εἴπῃς αὐτῷ μηδέν. ταῦτα εἶπεν ὁ θεὸς τῷ ἀρχαγγέλῳ αὐτοῦ.
Ἀδὰμ δὲ ἐφύλαξεν τὸ ῥῆμα ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτοῦ, μετ’ αὐτοῦ δὲ καὶ ἡ Εὕα, ἔχοντες τὴν λύπην περὶ
Ἅβελ τοῦ υἱοῦ αὐτῶν.
And God said to Michael the archangel, “Say to Adam, ‘Do not report the mystery which you
know to Cain, your son, as he is a son of wrath. But do not grieve, for I will give you another
son in his stead. This one will reveal all that you should do, but as for you, do not say anything
to him.’ ” Thus said God to his archangel. But Adam kept the word in his heart, and Eve with
him, grieving concerning Abel their son. (GLAE 3:2–3)
In both texts, it is precisely at the point when God begins speaking to Adam and Eve invisibly or
through angelic intermediaries (since they are shut out from the divine presence) that God’s first-
person narrative voice becomes silent.31
4.2. Content Dealing with Rituals

The Book of Moses deals extensively with ritual, the middle two sections of the book focusing
on two different ritual practices. Three major scenes in Moses 5 deal with sacrifice. First, God
commands Adam and Eve to “offer the firstlings of their flocks for an offering unto the Lord.”
After this, an angel appears to Adam and explains that animal sacrifice “is a similitude of the
28
Johnson, “Life of Adam and Eve,” 259, note in Preface a.
29
De Jonge and Tromp, Life of Adam and Eve, 12; Tromp, Life of Adam and Eve in Greek, 122–3.
30
This provides a parallel to the rabbinic concept of the “oral Torah” going back ultimately to Moses on Mount Sinai, as
expressed in Mishnah Pirqe ʾAbot 1:1.
31
Interestingly, in Eve’s account of events in Paradise later in the narrative, Eve makes a speech that would be equally
appropriate in God’s voice: καὶ ἐβόησα αὐτῇ τῇ ὥρᾳ λέγουσα· Ἀδάμ, Ἀδάμ, ποῦ εἶ; ἀνάστα, ἐλθὲ πρός με, καὶ δείξω σοι μέγα
μυστήριον (“And at that time I cried out, saying, ‘Adam, Adam, where are you? Rise, come to me and I will show you a great
mystery’ ”—21:1). Compare LXX Gen 3:9: καὶ ἐκάλεσεν κύριος ὁ θεὸς τὸν Ἀδὰμ καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ· Ἀδάμ, ποῦ εἶ (“And the Lord
God called out to Adam and said to him, ‘Adam, where are you?’ ”). The narrative in GLAE 3:2, quoted above, assumes that
God has actually taught Adam a “mystery,” but there is no clear account of this in the text as it currently stands.
sacrifice of the Only Begotten of the Father, who is full of grace and truth.” Finally, Cain and
Abel offer sacrifices—Cain a plant sacrifice, and Abel the required animal sacrifice—and Cain,
having been rejected, slays Abel and is punished. Moses 6 deals extensively with baptism, as
Enoch recites a divine commandment to be baptized and tells the story of Adam’s baptism after
his expulsion from the garden. In The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the ancient
ordinance of sacrifice and the ordinance of baptism are linked, both being associated with the
Aaronic Priesthood.32
As mentioned above, GLAE is preoccupied to a great extent with rituals of burial and mourning.
This begins near the end of the text, immediately following the death of Adam in section 32, with
Eve covering her face in mourning (33:1). A seraph washes Adam’s corpse three times in the river
Acheron (37:3), then the corpse lies for three hours (37:4), after which the body is carried in a
procession of heavenly beings (38).33 The preparation of the body consists of wrapping it in linen
and silk and anointing it with fragrant oil (40:1–2).34 Then the body is buried (40:6). God places
a seal over the tomb so that the body can lie undisturbed for six days, a period that is explicitly
prescribed for mourning over the deceased (42:1; 43:2–3).35 The text puts these rituals in the
context of a return to paradise (the destination of the procession and the place where Adam’s body
is buried). In keeping with its revelatory nature, the text also describes what happens to Adam’s
spirit while the body undergoes the physical rituals: God takes the spirit, hands it over to the
archangel Michael, and commands Michael to bring the spirit to the third heaven until the day of
the resurrection.
The preoccupation with ritual in both the Book of Moses and GLAE indicates that these texts
are not just revelatory, but they belong more specifically in the genre of revealed ritual narrative.
The revelatory frame justifies a particular type of ritual, or at least performs a historical paradigm
in which such a ritual was instituted in the distant past. Further, the text itself could function as a
script for the ritual, which reinforces the text’s performative function. How exactly it does so will
become clearer as we continue with the comparison between these texts.
4.3. Audience-Inclusive Directives

In both the Book of Moses and GLAE, the text includes exhortations that implicitly include the
audience of the text. The exhortations instruct the audience how to properly observe the ritual for
which the narrative establishes the mythological precedent. An example of this in the Book of Moses
is found in the angel’s words to Adam concerning sacrifice:
32
See Doctrine and Covenants 84:26–27 and 107:20.
33
A procession in which the body was carried out through the city gate was a known practice in Jewish funerals during the
first century ce; on this custom, see Luke 7:12–15; m. Ber. 3:1; m. Sanh. 2:1; and Josephus, J.W. 1.670–73.
34
The wrapping of the body in linen, followed by anointing, is mentioned in the New Testament in the context of Jesus’s
burial; see Mark 15:46; 16:16; John 19:39–40.
35
The Pentateuch does not prescribe a specific length of mourning, but narrative passages in the Pentateuch describe
mourning periods of various lengths. Jacob mourned for his son Joseph “many days” (Gen 37:34); Joseph mourned for his
father Jacob for seven days (Gen 50:10); and the Israelites mourned for Aaron and for Moses for thirty days (Num 20:29
and Deut 34:8).
this thing is a similitude of the sacrifice of the only begotten of the Father which is full of grace
and truth wherefore thou shalt do all that thou doest in the name of the Son and thou shalt
repent and call upon God in the name of the Son forever more and in that day the Holy Ghost
fell upon Adam which bore record of the Father and the Son saying I am Jesus Christ from
the beginning henceforth and forever that as thou hast fallen thou mayest be redeemed and all
mankind even as many as will (Moses 5:7–9)
The last phrase, “and all mankind, even as many as will,” widens the directive to include not only
Adam but also the audience.
Later in the Book of Moses, God gives Adam a commandment concerning baptism:
I give unto you a commandment to teach these things freely unto your children saying that in
as much as they were born in to the world by the fall which bringeth death by water and blood
and the spirit which I have made and so became of dust a living soul even so ye must be born
again of water and the spirit and cleansed by blood even the blood of mine only begotten into
the mysteries of the kingdom of Heaven that ye may be Sanctified from all sin and enjoy the
words of eternal life in this world and eternal life in the world to come even immortal glory
(Moses 6:58–59)
This commandment is specifically given to Adam, although presumably it would apply to Adam’s
posterity when he teaches them. Later in the same pericope, however, there is a clearer widening
to include the audience:
and thou art after the order of him who was without beginning of days or end of years from all
eternity to all eternity behold thou art one in me a son of God and thus may all become my sons
amen (Moses 6:67–68)
The widening clause, “and thus may all become my sons,” is very similar to that in Moses 5:7–9;
one includes the audience in the commandment to offer sacrifice in similitude of the sacrifice of the
Son of God, while the other includes the audience in the invitation to receive baptism.
GLAE also contains a very prominent audience-inclusive directive at the conclusion of the text,
after the elaborate description of the burial ritual performed for Adam:
καὶ μετὰ ταῦτα ἐλάλησεν Μιχαὴλ τῷ Σὴθ λέγων· οὕτως κήδευσον πάντα ἄνθρωπον ἀποθνήσκοντα
ἕως ἡμέρας τῆς ἀναστάσεως. μετὰ δὲ τὸ δοῦναι αὐτὸν νόμον εἶπεν πρὸς αυτόν· παρ’ ἓξ ἡμερῶν μὴ
πενθήσητε. τῇ δὲ ἑβδόμῃ ἡμέρᾳ κατάπαυσον καὶ εὐφράνθητι ἐπ’ αὐτῇ, ὅτι ἐν αὐτῇ ὁ θεὸς καὶ οἱ
ἄγγελοι ἡμεῖς εὐφραινόμεθα μετὰ τῆς δικαίας ψυχῆς τῆς μεταστάσης ἀπὸ γῆς.
And the archangel Michael said to Seth, “Thus you shall prepare for burial each man who dies
until the day of resurrection.” After giving him this law, he said to him, “Do not mourn more
than six days; but on the seventh day rest and be glad in it, for on that day God and we angels
rejoice with a righteous soul that migrates from the earth.” (GLAE 43:2–4)
The archangel’s directive is to be followed “until the day of resurrection,” which means that it
applies not only to Seth but also to any future audience that accepts the truth of the text. This
audience-inclusive directive is similar to those in Moses 5 and 6. In each case, the preceding narrative
becomes a mythological precedent for a ritual to be performed in the present: animal sacrifice in
Moses 5, baptism in Moses 6, and burial in GLAE.
4.4. Indicators of Ritual Setting

The Book of Moses is organized with each ritual at the center of a pericope, so that an audience
could move from one ritual context to another as the narrative progresses. Elements of the text
correspond to architectural features of the Israelite temple, the implicit setting for the ritual.
Chapters 2–4, which take place in the garden of Eden, correspond to the interior of the temple,
guarded by cherubim on the east doors (1 Kgs 6:31–35; compare Moses 4:31); being driven out
entails being “shut out from [God’s] presence” (Moses 5:4). Chapter 5, with its focus on sacrifice,
would naturally center around the altar of sacrifice in the temple court. Joseph Smith later directed
the construction of a round baptismal font resting on twelve oxen for the Nauvoo Temple, which
suggests a correspondence between the baptismal ritual in ch. 6 and the giant laver or “sea” of the
Israelite temple.36
Most of GLAE takes place in the “tent” (σκηνή) in which Adam and then Eve speak to their
posterity, and in which Adam dies (14:1). This setting is significant in light of the focus on burial
and mourning. In rabbinic discourse during the first century, “tent” was a technical term applying
to any man-made structure in which a person dies. Thus the tractate of the Mishnah dealing with
corpse impurity is entitled Ohaloth, literally “tents.” The association of the tent with death and
corpse impurity comes from Num 19:14:
This is the law: When a man dies in a tent, all who enter the tent, and all that is in the tent, shall
be unclean for seven days.37
By analogy, the law was applied not only to actual tents but also to more permanent structures.38
Thus an addition to GLAE, attested in several manuscripts, mentioning Adam’s posterity gathering
to “the door of the house into which he would enter to pray to God” (5:3) is not incongruent.39
The term “tent” in GLAE 14:1 could therefore function as an indicator of the setting in which the
ritual narrative was to be acted out.40
4.5. Narrative Displacement

In the Book of Moses, there are two instances of what I have called “narrative displacement,” in which
parts of the narrative do not occur in their logical or chronological place, but instead are grouped
together with other parts that share the same ritual theme, in a way that is optimal for a ritual
performance. This happens first with God’s commandment to Adam to offer sacrifice, which occurs in
ch. 5, after Adam has been shut out from God’s presence—an awkward placement for the narrative,
but appropriate for the focus on sacrifice in this chapter.41 Likewise, Adam’s baptism is recounted only
36
Calabro, “Joseph Smith and the Architecture of Genesis,” 171–2.
37
Interestingly, in the Hebrew, the word for “a man” is ‫אדם‬, which can also be the proper name “Adam”; read out of context
(according to common practice in ancient exegesis), the verse could be interpreted as a reference to Adam dying in a tent,
as he does in GLAE.
38
m. ʾOhal. 3:7 and 5:6–7; compare LXX οἰκία “house” in Num 19:14 for Hebrew ‫“ אהל‬tent.”
39
On this sentence as an addition, see De Jonge and Tromp, Life of Adam and Eve, 33.
40
Tents also played a role in the Andanian mysteries in Messenia, Greece, in the first century bce, although the nature of that
role is uncertain. See M. W. Meyer, ed., The Ancient Mysteries: A Sourcebook (Cambridge: Harper and Row, 1987), 54.
41
The placement after Adam’s having been “shut out” is also necessary in view of the outdoor location of the altar of
sacrifice in the Israelite temple. See Calabro, “Joseph Smith and the Architecture of Genesis,” 172–3.
in the mouth of Enoch in ch. 6, after Adam has died, which is appropriate for the focus on baptism
in this chapter.42 In both cases, the events pertaining to each ritual are grouped together, providing a
mythological precedent after which there is an audience-inclusive directive.
GLAE contains two accounts of the fall, one narrated by Adam (7–8) and a longer one told by Eve
(15–29). Both accounts are presented to the posterity of Adam and Eve long after the fact, as Adam
rests in the tent in which he is about to die. Thus GLAE is by no means a simple chronological narrative;
it begins after the fall and recounts the events of the Fall itself only later in the narrative, through the
voice of characters within the narrative. This complicated chronological organization subordinates the
events in Paradise as explanatory background to the central ritual of the text, the burial of Adam. This
is therefore a fine example of narrative displacement.
5. CONCLUSION AND PROSPECTS

The similarities in narrative content, revelatory framing, ritual focus, audience-inclusive directives,
indicators of ritual setting, and narrative displacement are sufficient to place the Book of Moses and
GLAE in the same category of literature, despite their difference in historical context. Because of this
affinity, the two texts are mutually informative. Ritual elements of the Book of Moses, which are readily
apparent because of the book’s role in Joseph Smith’s restoration of Priesthood ordinances in the
1830s and 1840s, prepare us to recognize the same elements in GLAE. The comparison of both texts
allows us to refine the description of these elements.
An understanding of GLAE as a ritual narrative accords with the fact that most of the text, from
immediately after the introduction of the posterity of Adam and Eve in 5:1 to at least 30:1, takes place
in the oratorial context of a gathering of Adam’s posterity to hear the words of Adam and Eve.43 For
instance, ritual specialists might narrate the story and simultaneously play the parts of Adam and Eve,
while a group of initiates might also participate in the drama, playing the part of the posterity of Adam
and Eve (whose role in the narrative is purely that of receiving instruction).
Such a scenario would explain some peculiar features of the narrative, such as the appearance
in 35:4 of “two Ethiopians,” who, Seth immediately explains to Eve, “are the sun and the moon”
which “prostrate themselves and pray for my father Adam” (36:1). Seth goes on to explain that they
are dark because “they are not able to shine before the Light of All, the Father of Lights” (36:2–3).44
This passage makes little sense if the text is simply a literary narrative, but it makes perfect sense as
the script of a ritual performance. It is impossible for the sun and moon themselves to feature at the
same time in a ritual, particularly in the act of prostrating themselves, but a pair of performers can
easily represent them, and Seth’s words to Eve provide an exegesis for the benefit of the audience.
The category of revealed ritual narrative has not been widely studied as such. I have written
elsewhere on another of Joseph Smith’s revealed ancient scriptures that belong in this category,
42
Ibid., 173.
43
In sections 33 and 34, there is ambiguity between the expected third-person narrative voice and the first-person voice of
Eve (for the latter, see 33:3–4 and 34:1–2).
44
The Greek text reads as follows: τίνες δέ εἰσιν, υἱέ μου Σήθ, οἱ δύο Αἰθίοπες οἱ παριστάμενοι επὶ τὴν προσευχὴν τοῦ πατρός σου;
λέγει δὲ Σὴθ τῇ μητρὶ αὐτοῦ· οὗτοι εἰσιν ὁ ἥλιος καὶ ἡ σελήνη, καὶ αὐτοὶ προσπίπτοντες καὶ εὐχόμενοι ὑπὲρ τοῦ πατρός μου Ἀδάμ.
λέγει αυτῷ ἡ Εὕα· καὶ ποῦ ἐστιν τὸ φῶς αὐτῶν, καὶ διὰ τί γεγόνασιν μελανοειδεῖς; καὶ λέγει αὐτῇ Σήθ· οὐκ ἀπέστη τὸ φῶς αὐτῶν, ἀλλʼ
οὐ δύνανται φαίνειν ἐνώπιον τοῦ φωτὸς τῶν ὅλων, τοῦ πατρὸς τῶν φώτων, καὶ διὰ τοῦτο ἐκρύβη τὸ φῶς ἀπʼ αὐτῶν.
namely the Book of Abraham.45 Additional examples include the biblical book of Leviticus and the
words of institution in the Eucharist. It remains an open question to what degree other members of
this category, including perhaps other Pseudepigrapha, share the elements described here. Studies
addressing this question would help to clarify whether the Book of Moses and GLAE are especially
close kin within the larger category or are simply typical examples.
Another issue that remains to be clarified is the historical context of the ritual that the text
performs. Since both the Book of Moses and GLAE may function on their own as performances of
the past, it is not necessarily the case that the rituals they describe and prescribe were ever actually
carried out. This is true not only for the past as performed by the text but also for the text’s
immediate readership. In the case of the Book of Moses, the church that adopted the text as scripture
never institutionalized a ritual precisely like that which the text assumes. The book was understood
as ancient background for latter-day doctrine and ordinances, different as would be expected for an
ancient text, and yet similar enough to confirm that the ancient and modern revelations came from
the same God.46 GLAE belongs to a much lesser-known historical context. Was it produced and
read within a particular sect? Did it support current ritual practices or condemn them as corrupt?
Careful investigation of early Jewish and Christian sources may offer some further illumination.
However, for now, it is enough that the comparison instructs us about the possibilities.
6. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Baldwin, Edward C. “Paradise Lost and the Apocalypse of Moses.” Journal of English and Germanic Philology
24 (1925): 383–6.
Bradshaw, Jeffrey M., and Ryan Dahle. “Could Joseph Smith Have Drawn on Ancient Manuscripts When He
Translated the Story of Enoch?: Recent Updates on a Persistent Question.” Interpreter: A Journal of Latter-
day Saint Faith and Scholarship 33 (2019): 305–74.
Calabro, David M. “Joseph Smith and the Architecture of Genesis.” Pages 165–81 in The Temple: Ancient and
Restored. Edited by Stephen D. Ricks and Donald W. Parry. Salt Lake City, UT: Eborn Books, 2016.
Calabro, David M. “An Inviting Exploration,” review of Exploring the Apocrypha from a Latter-day Saint
Perspective, by Jared W. Ludlow. Interpreter: A Journal of Latter-day Saint Faith and Scholarship 30
(2018): 49–51.
Calabro, David M. “The Choreography of Genesis: The Book of Abraham as a Ritual Text.” Pages 241–61 in
Sacred Time, Sacred Space, and Sacred Meaning. Edited by Stephen D. Ricks and Jeffrey M. Bradshaw. Salt
Lake City, UT: Eborn Books, 2020.
Charles, Robert H., ed. The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament. 2 vols. Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1913.
Charles, Robert H. The Book of Enoch. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1912.
Charles, Robert H. Eschatology. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1913.
Charlesworth, James H. “Messianism in the Pseudepigrapha and the Book of Mormon.” Pages 99–137
in Reflections on Mormonism: Judaeo-Christian Parallels. Edited by Truman G. Madsen. Provo, UT: BYU
Religious Studies Center, 1978.
45
D. Calabro, “The Choreography of Genesis: The Book of Abraham as a Ritual Text,” in Sacred Time, Sacred Space, and
Sacred Meaning, ed. S. D. Ricks and J. M. Bradshaw (Salt Lake City, UT: Eborn Books, 2020), 241–61.
46
The account of the revelation of Moses 1 in History of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, ed. B. H. Roberts
(Salt Lake City, UT: Deseret News, 1902), 1:98, describes it thus: “the Lord, who well knew our infantile and delicate
situation, vouchsafed for us a supply of strength, and granted us ‘line upon line of knowledge—here a little and there a
little,’ of which the following was a precious morsel” (the text of Moses 1 follows). This account presents the book as a direct
source of spiritual strength by virtue of the knowledge it imparts.
Faulring, Scott H., Kent P. Jackson, and Robert J. Matthews, eds. Joseph Smith’s New Translation of the
Bible: Original Manuscripts. Provo, UT: BYU Religious Studies Center, 2004.
Gee, John. A Guide to the Joseph Smith Papyri. Provo, UT: Foundation for Ancient Research and Mormon
Studies, 2000.
Green, Arnold H. “The Muhammad-Joseph Smith Comparison: Subjective Metaphor or a Sociology of
Prophethood?” Pages 111–33 in Mormons and Muslims: Spiritual Foundations and Modern Manifestations.
Edited by Spencer J. Palmer. Provo, UT: BYU Religious Studies Center, 2002.
Green, Arnold H., and Lawrence P. Goldrup. “Joseph Smith, an American Muhammad? An Essay on the Perils
of Historical Analogy.” Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought 6 (Spring 1971): 46–58.
Johnson, M. D. “Life of Adam and Eve (First Century A.D.): A New Translation and Introduction.” Pages
249–95 in Expansions of the “Old Testament” and Legends, Wisdom and Philosophical Literature, Prayers
Psalms, and Odes, Fragments of Lost Judaeo-Hellenistic Works. Vol. 2 of The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha.
Edited by J. H. Charlesworth. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1985.
Jonge, Marinus de, and Johannes Tromp. The Life of Adam and Eve and Related Literature. Sheffield: Sheffield
Marquardt, H. Michael. “Joseph Smith’s Egyptian Papers: A History.” Pages 11–68 in The Joseph Smith
Egyptian Papyri: A Complete Edition, by Robert K. Ritner. Salt Lake City, UT: Signature Books, 2013.
Meyer, Marvin W., ed. The Ancient Mysteries: A Sourcebook. Cambridge: Harper and Row, 1987.
Nibley, Hugh W. Abraham in Egypt. 2nd ed. Salt Lake City, UT: Deseret Book, 2000.
Nibley, Hugh W. Enoch the Prophet. Salt Lake City, UT: Deseret Book, 1986.
Peterson, Daniel C. “A Response: ‘What the Manuscripts and the Eyewitnesses Tell Us about the Translation
of the Book of Mormon’.” Pages 67–71 in Uncovering the Original Text of the Book of Mormon: History
and Findings of the Critical Text Project. Edited by M. Gerald Bradford and Alison V. P. Coutts. Provo,
UT: Foundation for Ancient Research and Mormon Studies, 2002.
Roberts, B. H., ed. History of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Salt Lake City, UT: Deseret
News, 1902.
Robinson, Stephen E. “The Book of Adam in Judaism and Early Christianity.” Pages 141–3 in The Man Adam.
Edited by Joseph Fielding McConkie and Robert L. Millet. Salt Lake City, UT: Bookcraft, 1990.
Robinson, Stephen E. “Lying for God: The Uses of Apocrypha.” Pages 133–54 in Apocryphal Writings and the
Latter-day Saints. Edited by C. Wilfred Griggs. Salt Lake City, UT: Greg Kofford Books, 2007.
Russell, David S. The Method and Message of Jewish Apocalyptic. Philadelphia, PA: Westminster John Knox
Press, 1964.
Russell, David S. The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha: Patriarchs and Prophets in Early Judaism. Philadelphia,
Talmage, James E. The House of the Lord: A Study of Holy Sanctuaries, Ancient and Modern. Salt Lake City,
UT: Deseret Book, 1974.
Tromp, Johannes. The Life of Adam and Eve in Greek: A Critical Edition. Leiden: Brill, 2005.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Paul Fiebig’s Reply to Arthur

Drews on the Miracles of Jesus
and Apollonius of Tyana
CRAIG A. EVANS
James H. Charlesworth will forever be linked to the publication of the literature that has traditionally
been called Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha. This is not only because of his publication of the
magisterial two-volume The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha1 but also because of his advocacy of the
value of this literature in its own right. Although it is hard to imagine this now, there was a time
when it was necessary to make the case that critical study of this extracanonical literature was well
worth the time and effort. In a collection of studies edited by Charlesworth more than twenty-five
years ago veteran scholar of sacred Scripture James Sanders penned an essay entitled, “Why the
Pseudepigrapha?”2
Charlesworth has himself published a number of works in which he too shows how important this
literature is for understanding Jewish and Christian origins and the emergence of their respective
canons of sacred Scripture.3 Today no one needs to make the case; the value of the literature is
widely recognized and more of this literature—relating to both Testaments—is being sought out
and published,4 including critical editions of the literature recovered from the Judean desert.5
1
J. H. Charlesworth, ed., Apocalyptic Literature and Testaments, vol. 1 of The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha (Garden City,
NY: Doubleday, 1983); J. H. Charlesworth, ed., Expansions of the “Old Testament” and Legends, Wisdom and Philosophical
Literature, Prayers, Psalms, and Odes, Fragments of Lost Judeo-Hellenistic Works, vol. 2 of The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha
(Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1985).
2
J. A. Sanders, “Introduction: Why the Pseudepigrapha?” in The Pseudepigrapha and Early Biblical Interpretation, ed. J. H.
Charlesworth and C. A. Evans, JSPSup 14 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1993), 13–19.
3
E.g., J. H. Charlesworth, The Pseudepigrapha and Modern Research, with a Supplement, 2nd ed., SBLSCS 7 (Chico: Scholars
Press, 1981); and J. H. Charlesworth, The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha and the New Testament, SNTSMS 54
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985); revised and reprinted as The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha and the New
Testament: Prolegomena for the Study of Christian Origins (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 1998).
4
E.g., R. Bauckham, J. R. Davila, and A. Panayotov, eds., Old Testament Pseudepigrapha: More Noncanonical Scriptures,
vol. 1 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2013); B. Landau and T. Burke, eds., New Testament Apocrypha: More Noncanonical
Scriptures, vol. 1 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2016); and T. Burke, ed., New Testament Apocrypha: More Noncanonical
Scriptures, vol. 2 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2020). It is only appropriate that in the volume edited by Bauckham
et al., Charlesworth wrote the foreword, “The Fundamental Importance of an Expansive Collection of ‘Old Testament
Pseudepigrapha’,” xi–xvi.
5
I refer here to the numerous volumes published in the Princeton Theological Seminary Dead Sea Scrolls Project, edited by
J. H. Charlesworth and published by Mohr Siebeck/Westminster John Knox Press.
The publication and critical study of the extracanonical literature have provided interpreters and
historians of Jewish and Christian beginnings with more “dots” that they can connect in the task of
constructing a history or story of the past. One of the reasons much of the work undertaken during
the nineteenth-century “quest” of the historical Jesus was so unsatisfactory was the lack of data.
Assertions about what Jesus could or could not have said have been found to be simply false. There
were not enough dots to connect. Ongoing archaeology and publication of late antique literature
have gone a long way in addressing this problem. A better understanding of what history is and
what the task of the historian is has played a very important role as well.6 But even the possibilities
and limits of historiography are closely tied to the surviving data of the past.
One of the oddest ideas that emerged in nineteenth-century German scholarship was the
hypothesis that Jesus of Nazareth was not an historical figure but rather a mythological creation.
Although proponents of this view claimed to be doing historical research, most today will probably
agree that it was philosophy not history. It should also be pointed out that the idea that Jesus did
not exist is a modern idea, not an ancient one. No one in antiquity, including early Christianity’s
harshest critics, such as Celsus and Porphyry, doubted that Jesus lived. What they doubted was what
Christians said and believed about him.
Although some philosophers, including individuals who were hardly more than dilettantes,
suggested that Jesus did not exist (almost always as part of an agenda to discredit the Christian
Church and to undermine the validity of Christian morals), it was not until David Friedrich Strauss
(1808–1874) published in 1835–6 his two-volume Das Leben Jesu7 that radical mythicism found
its place in the academy. Of course, Strauss did not doubt that Jesus was a person of history;
he only doubted we could know much about him because of the mythological character of the
New Testament Gospels. His critique of the highly subjective rationalist attempts to find a non-
supernatural Jesus in the Gospels was largely successful, even if not always well informed.
It was Bruno Bauer (1809–82), Karl Marx’s drinking companion,8 who pushed the mythological
approach to its limits by arguing that the Jesus story had been invented by Mark as a response to
the Roman cult of the divine Caesar.9 Bauer’s theses were debated in the universities of Europe, but
they did not become mainstream, either among historians or among philosophers.
One of the reasons the radical skepticism of the mythicists like Bauer did not carry the day was
the discovery of new sources. The discovery of Codex Sinaiticus and the rediscovery of Codex
Vaticanus increased scholarly confidence in the transmission of the Greek text of the New Testament.
The discovery of vast quantities of ancient papyri in Egypt began to support the traditional dates
6
Such as the critique of historical positivism and its unnuanced understanding of what constitutes “authenticity.” See J. H.
Charlesworth and P. Pokorny, eds., Jesus Research: An International Perspective (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2009); and
J. H. Charlesworth, with B. Rhea and P. Pokorny, eds., Jesus Research: New Methodologies and Perceptions (Grand Rapids,
MI: Eerdmans, 2014).
7
D. F. Strauss, Das Leben Jesu kritisch bearbeitet, 2 vols. (Tübingen: C.F. Osiander, 1835–6; 3rd ed., 1838–9; 4th ed.,
1840); translated into English as The Life of Jesus, Critically Examined, 3 vols. (London: Chapman, 1846; 5th ed., 1906;
repr., Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1972; repr., Lives of Jesus Series; London: SCM Press, 1973).
8
Bauer and Marx (1818–83) for a time were close friends. Both were atheists. During their university days they often
amused themselves by disrupting church services.
9
For the argument that Jesus was not an historical person, see B. Bauer, Kritik der evangelischen Geschichte der Synoptiker,
3 vols. (Leipzig: Wigand, 1841–2; 2nd ed., 1846); and B. Bauer, Kritik der Evangelien und Geschichte ihres Ursprungs,
4 vols. (Berlin: Hempel, 1850–1). For the argument that the evangelist Mark invented the Jesus story, see B. Bauer, Christus
und die Cäsaren: Der Ursprung des Christentums aus dem römischen Griechentum (Berlin: Grosser, 1877; 2nd ed., 1879).
Fiebig’s Reply to Drews on the Miracles of Jesus 485
of the composition of the New Testament literature, as well as clarify aspects of koine Greek, the
Greek in which the New Testament literature was composed.
Literature related to Christian Scripture was also beginning to come to light. Some of the
writings that would eventually be classified as the “Apostolic Fathers” and the “Old Testament
Pseudepigrapha” were being discovered and published. R. H. Charles and his colleagues began
publishing critical editions and translations of works such as Enoch and the Testaments of the
Twelve Patriarchs, culminating in the eventual publication of The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of
the Old Testament,10 a work that became a classic and served the academy well for many decades.
Very few historians and philosophers embraced Bauer’s hypothesis of the mythical Jesus. But
one who did was Christian Heinrich Arthur Drews (1865–1935). Drews was a philosopher with
interest in monism, metaphysics, and epistemology. Why he took an interest in the question of Jesus
is not clear, at least not professionally. When one reviews Drews’s scholarly work it is not obvious
exactly how his work on Jesus, which was not insignificant, reflects his training and expertise. He
was raised in a family of clergy and theologians, so there may have been a personal interest.11 In
any event, Arthur Drews made a name for himself when in 1909 he published Die Christusmythe.12
The following year he published a small book in which he tried to show that the apostle Peter was a
legendary figure.13 Drews published at least three more significant books in which he attempted to
make the case that Jesus of Nazareth was not a person of history but a creation of early Christianity.14
Many scholars responded negatively to Drews and his attempt to revive Bauer’s mythicism. Some
of the response was ecclesiastical, as we would expect. Some of the criticism came from biblical
scholars, some of it came from historians, and some of it came from philosophers.15 Although he
argued the hypothesis much better than Bruno Bauer did, Drews could not in the end capture a
following among academics trained in history; neither did he capture much of a following among
philosophers. Why was that? The relevant historical data had by the twentieth century become
too extensive. A handful of philosophers and dilettantes could theorize if they wanted to; serious
historians and biblical critics, however, were satisfied that the Christian Church had its origins in
the provocative life and teaching of Jesus of Nazareth, a real figure of history. Ongoing work in
archaeology in the land of Israel and ongoing discovery of and publication of late antique literature
have only added to the evidence that the New Testament Gospels, however free and interpretive
they may be with respect to the dominical tradition, do indeed describe the historical founder
10
R. H. Charles, ed., The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament, 2 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1913).
11
For biographical information, see H. Lübbe, “Drews, Christian Heinrich Arthur,” Neue Deutsche Biographie, Band
4 (Berlin: Duncker & Humboldt, 1959), 117; and F. W. Bautz, “Drews, Arthur,” in Biographisch-Bibliographisches
Kirchenlexikon, Band 1 (Nordhausen: Traugott Bautz, 1975; repr. 1990), 1381–2.
12
A. Drews, Die Christusmythe (Jena: Diederichs, 1909; 3rd ed., 1924); translated into English as The Christ Myth
(London: Unwin, 1910).
13
A. Drews, Die Petruslegende: Ein Beitrag zur Mythologie des Christentums (Frankfurt am Main: Neuer Frankfurther
Verlag, 1910).
14
A. Drews, Die Christusmythe. Zweiter Teil. Die Zeugnisse für die Geschichtlichkeit Jesu: Eine Antwort an die Schriftgelehrten
mit besonderer Berücksichtigung der theologischen Methode (Jena: Diederichs, 1911); A. Drews, Das Markusevangelium als
Zeugnis gegen die Geschichtlichkeit Jesu (Jena: Diederichs, 1921); and A. Drews, Die Leugnung der Geschichtlichkeit Jesu in
Vergangenheit und Gegenwart (Karlsruhe: G. Braun, 1926).
15
E.g., K. Dunkmann, “Die Christusmythe,” Der Geisteskampf der Gegenwart (March 1910): 85–94; C. Gröber, Christus
lebte: eine Kritik der “Christusmythe” Arthur Drews (Konstanz: Oberbadische Verlagsanstalt, 1923); K. Staab, “Wege zur
‘Christusmythe’ von A. Drews,” Bib 5 (1924): 26–38; M. Goguel, Jésus de Nazareth, mythe ou histoire? (Paris: Payot, 1925);
and H. Windisch, “Das Problem der Geschichtlichkeit Jesu: die Christusmythe,” ThRu 2 (1930): 207–52.
of Christianity. This is why Rudolf Bultmann could speak of Jesus and his proclamation as the
“presupposition” of Christian theology without mounting a defense of his historical existence.16
Indeed, in his little book on Jesus in the popular German “Immortals” series, Bultmann gives
no quarter to the mythicists, asserting: “Of course the doubt as to whether Jesus really existed
is unfounded and not worth refutation. No sane person can doubt that Jesus stands as founder
behind the historical movement whose first distinct stage is represented by the oldest Palestinian
community.”17
One of those who believed that the mythicism of Arthur Drews was “worth refutation” was
Paul Wilhelm Julius Fiebig (1876–1949). To be sure, Fiebig was very much a creature of his time.
He was, among other things, a rationalist and historical positivist.18 But he also knew the ancient
sources very well and was frustrated that biblical scholars by and large did not. Fiebig’s first
significant scholarly publication was in response to Adolf Jülicher’s groundbreaking but flawed
Die Gleichnisreden Jesu.19 Jülicher argued that allegorical and allegorizing parables in the Gospels
derived from the Church, not from Jesus. In his Altjüdische Gleichnisse und die Gleichnisse Jesu
Fiebig showed that Jülicher failed to take into account the nature and diversity of early Jewish
parables and that he drew a false and unhistorical dichotomy between the Hellenistic and Jewish
worlds.20 Fiebig shows persuasively that Jesus’ parables—allegorical features and all—are right at
home in the world of Judaism of his time.21
But it was the appearance of Arthur Drews’s Die Christusmythe in 1909 that brought about in
Fiebig’s work a shift in emphasis but not in expertise. In 1912 Fiebig published a new work on
the parables of Jesus and the parables and similes of the rabbis, in which he not only renewed his
criticism of Jülicher’s older work but took on the radical skepticism of Drews as well.22 The focus of
Fiebig’s criticism of these two men, one a biblical scholar and the other a philosopher, centered on
their inadequate grasp of the relevant source material. Neither understood ancient Jewish parables,
which led to their skepticism. For Jülicher this meant that many of the parables in the Gospels did
16
R. Bultmann, Theology of the New Testament, 2 vols. (New York: Scribner’s, 1951–5), 1:3.
17
From R. Bultmann, Jesus and the Word, trans. L. Pettibone Smith and E. Huntress Lantero (New York: Scribner’s, 1934),
13. The translation, which I have quoted, is a bit interpretive. For the original German, see R. Bultmann, Jesus, Die
Unsterblichen: Die geistigen Heroen der Menschheit in ihrem Leben und Wirken 1 (Berlin: Deutsche Bibliothek, 1926),
16–17: “Zwar ist der Zweifel, ob Jesus wirklich existiert hat, unbegründet und keines Wortes der Widerlegung wert. Daß er
als Urheber hinter der geschichtlichen Bewegung steht, deren erstes greifbares Stadium die älteste palästinensiche Gemeinde
darstellt, is völlig deutlich.”
18
In 1902 Fiebig came to the Institutum Judaicum Delitzschianum in Leipzig as acting director and in 1903 he became
supervisor of studies in the Preacher Seminar in Wittenberg. In 1904 he was appointed head master at the Gymnasium
Ernestinum in Gotha. During the First World War Fiebig served as the pastor in the Peterskirche in Leipzig. In 1924 he
was habilitated in New Testament at the University of Leipzig and in 1930 was made adjunct professor of theology. Fiebig
also served on the faculty at the University of Wittenberg. Unfortunately Fiebig, like so many academics in this time,
embraced the antisemitic doctrines of the Nazi party and in 1935 published Neues Testament und Nationalsozialismus.
For biographical information, see H. P. Rüger, “Fiebig, Paul,” in Neue Deutsche Biographie, Band 5 (Berlin: Duncker &
Humboldt, 1961), 139.
19
A. Jülicher, Die Gleichnisreden Jesu (Freiburg: Mohr Siebeck, 1888; 2nd ed., 2 vols., 1899).
20
P. Fiebig, Altjüdische Gleichnisse und die Gleichnisse Jesu (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1904).
21
For a helpful resource in which the Hebrew and Aramaic texts of the rabbinic parables are written out, see P. Fiebig,
Rabbinische Gleichnisse: Vokalisierte hebräisceh und aramäische Texte dargeboten für das Studium der Gleichnisse Jesu mit
Verzeichnis der nichtbiblischen Wörter (Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs, 1929).
22
P. Fiebig, Die Gleichnisreden Jesu im Lichte der rabbinischen Gleichnisse des neutestamentlichen Zeitalters (Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 1912).
not originate with Jesus. For Drews the inauthenticity of the parables simply confirmed his view
that Jesus was a myth not a figure of history.
Drews’s Die Christusmythe also led Fiebig to an investigation of the miracle stories of the Gospels.
Drews argued that the miracle stories in the Gospels constituted additional evidence that the Jesus
story was a fiction. Drews believes that these stories were derived from the myths and legends of
the Greco-Roman world. The putative parallels accordingly suggest that the Gospel stories do not
derive from an historical person but from the environment of late antiquity. Fiebig again argues
that inadequate acquaintance with the relevant data allows for such a skeptical conclusion. But
knowledge and critical assessment of the relevant parallels, he believes, will lead to the conclusion
that these stories, even if embellished in places and sometimes perhaps entirely fictional, do go back
to an historical person.
Fiebig makes his case in a small book entitled Jüdische Wundergeschichten des neutestamentlichen
Zeitalters.23 Fiebig’s argument against Drews and the miracle stories is analogous to his argument
against Jülicher and the parables. Drews thinks that because miracle stories are found in myths about
Greco-Roman gods and other legendary figures, the presence of miracles in the New Testament
Gospels places Jesus in the category of myth. Fiebig counters this logic by noting that miracle
accounts are found in stories about the rabbis, yet no one would argue, not even Drews, that
these rabbis did not exist. Fiebig reasons that “to reduce all traditions of Jesus to mythology, even
to explain all of Jesus’ miracles as myth … is spoken against by the previously presented Jewish
miracle stories.24 Mythical material is not present in this tradition, although there are legendary
embellishments.”25
Fiebig also takes into account the miracle stories attributed to the mysterious Apollonius of
Tyana, a figure that remains of great interest in modern scholarship.26 In the remainder of the
present essay I will allow Fiebig to speak for himself. In the translation that follows I have edited
very little. I have added full bibliographical data to Fiebig’s footnotes and in a few places it was
necessary to add footnotes. When I do this the footnote is placed within square brackets. I have
placed the page numbers to Fiebig’s text in square brackets.
Under the heading of Gechichtliches und Ungeschichtliches in den neutestamentlichen Wundern
(“Historical and Unhistorical Material in the New Testament Miracles”) Fiebig writes as follows:27
23
P. Fiebig, Jüdische Wundergeschichten des neutestamentlichen Zeitalters (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1911).
24
In Jüdische Wundergeschichten, 9–68, Fiebig discusses some two dozen stories about the rabbis, in which miracles are said
to have occurred. It is to this previous discussion that he refers.
25
Fiebig, Jüdische Wundergeschichten, 76.
26
J. Hahn, “Weiser, göttlicher Mensch oder Scharlatan? Das Bild des Apollonius von Tyana bei Heiden und Christen,”
in Literarische Konstituierung von Identifikationsfiguren in der Antike, ed. B. Aland, J. Hahn, and C. Ronning, STAC 16
(Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 87–109; C. P. Jones, “Apollonius of Tyana, Hero and Holy Man,” in Philostratus’s
Heroikos: Religion and Cultural Identity in the Third Century C.E., ed. E. B. Aitken and J. K. B. Maclean, WGRW 6 (Atlanta,
GA: SBL, 2004), 75–84; E. Koskenniemi, Apollonios von Tyana in der neutestamentlichen Exegese: Forschungsbericht
und Weiterführung der Diskussion, WUNT II/61 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1994); and E. Koskenniemi, “Apollonius of
Tyana, the Greek Miracle Workers in the Time of Jesus and the New Testament,” in Hermeneutik der frühchristlichen
Wundererzählungen: Geschichtliche, literarische und rezeptionsorientierte Perspektiven, ed. B. Kollmann and R. Zimmermann,
WUNT 339 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 165–81.
27
Fiebig, Jüdische Wundergeschichten des neutestamentlichen Zeitalters, 81–98.
When one reads the life of Apollonius of Tyana and when one thinks that traditions regarding
Buddha led, for the longest time, to the denial of the historicity of this religious founder, when
one considers that the Gospel of Mark, for example, consists almost exclusively of miracle stories,
and that the reliability of the Gospel of John has long been shattered beyond restoration, then
Drews’s claim that Jesus did not live no longer appears to be as outrageous as generally portrayed.
On the other hand, Arthur Drews should have, in my opinion, both in his judgment of Jesus’
historicity, as in his judgment of the theological method, especially of Johannes Weiss’ method,
questioned his approach to Jesus’ miracles for the following considerations:
Have not the scholars of Indology and Sanskrit recently changed their judgment regarding Buddha
in favor of his historicity? Since [82] 1898, when authentic Buddha relics and inscriptions were
found in the location which, according to legend, was described as Buddha’s birthplace, one is
convinced of Buddha’s historicity. One can now research the Buddha legend, be it with caution,
but still with greater confidence in historical memories than was possible before. Obviously we
are not—as Drews rightfully emphasizes—in the same position with the life of Jesus as we are,
since this find, with the life of Buddha; we do not have documented proof of Jesus’ life. In spite
of that, the progress in the field of East Indian philology should, even with all necessary caution,
lead one to believe that it is not impossible that an actual historical person stands behind the
New Testament traditions.
Furthermore: the life of Apollonius of Tyana28 consists of legend through and through. For
Apollonius historical researchers also lack documented proof, just as for many rabbis of the
Tannaitic and Amoraic eras. In answering the question of Apollonius’ historicity, one has to rely
mainly on a single book, as the older Philostratus (c. 207 CE) has written it. That is very similar
to the question of Jesus’ historicity. Any accounts about Apollonius outside of that book are
comparatively very weak, and any historian who relies in principle on suspicion and scepticism
would consider them highly suspect. Nevertheless, historical research, as far as I know, has not
accepted the thesis that Apollonius of Tyana is completely non-historical. Rather, it is convinced
of his historicity in spite of the [83] difficulties. Obviously, the way things are here, research
cannot exclude possibilities and probabilities in their judgments. That is just the way it is—even
Drews knows that. When it comes to historical matters, one can not always meet the conditions
he expects to have met in the field of New Testament research: one cannot always prove that it
had to have been a certain way. One rather has to be sometimes satisfied with the speculation
that it could have been a certain way. As sceptical as one has to be of the sources mentioned
by Philostratus, as well as of that which he tells, Drews should not blame the philologians and
historians who researched Apollonius for trying to determine from this biography those things
which could and could not be historical, in other words, for attempting to peel down to the
“historical core.” Drews calls it a “childish procedure,”29 the attempt to extract an historical core
out of New Testament miracle stories. Historians and philologians, as well as theologians, would
28
[Fiebig (Jüdische Wundergeschichten, 82) suggests a birth date of ca. 3 bce, but scholars now suggest ca. 15 ce, or even later.
For a scholarly overview of the life of Apollonius, see C. P. Jones, Philostratus I: Apollonius of Tyana I. Books I–IV, LCL 16
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2005), 7–17.]
29
Drews, Die Christusmythe. Zweiter Teil, 259.
probably consider that verdict to be too extreme, although, the way some methods of peeling
down to the core have sometimes been handled, justifies Drew’s harsh judgment.30
Let us illustrate what has been said with several examples from the life of Apollonius. We will
limit ourselves to those miracle stories which he told. No philologian or historian would believe
that the Egyptian Porteus’ appearance to the mother of Apollonius was historical. One would
also be skeptical of many comments about Apollonius’ miraculous foreknowledge. On the other
hand one should think about the following “raising of the dead,” which is said to have been
performed by Apollonius in Rome [84]:
Apollonius performed another miracle. There was a girl who appeared to have died just at
the time of her wedding. The betrothed followed the bier, with all the lamentations of an
unconsummated marriage, and Rome mourned with him, since the girl belonged to a consular
family. Meeting with this scene of sorrow, Apollonius said, “Put the bier down, for I will end
your crying over the girl.” At the same time he asked her name, which made most people
think he was going to declaim a speech of the kind delivered at funerals to raise lamentation.
But Apollonius, after merely touching her and saying something secretly, woke the bride from
her apparent death. The girl spoke, and went back to her father’s house like Alcestis revived
by Heracles.31
Her kinsmen wanted to give Apollonius a hundred and fifty thousand drachmas, but he said he
gave it as an extra dowry for the girl. He may have seen a spark of life in her which the doctors
had not noticed, since apparently the sky was drizzling and steam was coming from her face, or
he may have revived and restored her life when it was extinguished, but the explanation of this
has proved unfathomable, not just to me but to the bystanders. (Philostratus, Vit. Apoll. 4.45)32
The writer himself explains this so-called raising of the dead as a reviving of the seemingly
dead. It is clear that this story was already available to Philostratus. That this story, as told here,
does not contain anything impossible, should be conceded. That one cannot prove that this
incident had to have happened, is also obvious. Nevertheless, even strictly scientific historians
themselves would not consider this story to be completely snatched out of thin air: because
of the concrete details it contains, and because there is no doubt that magicians of that time
attempted such things. The story vividly reminds one of the reviving of the young man at Nain
(Luke 7:11–17). That the biblical story was copied, cannot, in my opinion, [85] be proven,33
nor can it be disproven. For the reviving of the young man at Nain, Johannes Weiss refers to the
30
Wrede’s skepticism toward such “cores,” though exaggerated, is not completely unjustified. See W. Wrede, Das
Messiasgeheimnis in den Evangelien: Zugleich ein Beitrag zum Verständnis des Markusevangeliums (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck
& Ruprecht, 1901).
31
The daughter of king Pelias of Jolkos. She dies for her beloved Admetos, but is then sent back to the living, rescued from
hades by Heracles.
32
[Fiebig uses the old German translation by F. Jacobs, Flavius Philostratus des Ältern (Stuttgart: J. B. Metsler, 1828), 408–9.
For the English translation above I have followed Jones, Philostratus I, 419.]
33
R. Reitzenstein, Hellenistische Wundererzählungen (Leipzig: Teubner, 1906), 41, n.3, in reference to this miracle
by Apollonius: “surely not borrowed from the Gospels; the magical papyri give the chanter (Goëten) instructions
corresponding miracles by Elijah and Elisha.34 He indicates that he considers the story to be a
complete myth. Drews does not mention this work of Weiss. He must not be familiar with it. If
he were, he would scarcely have mocked the method Weiss uses for explaining Jesus’ miracles.
Inspite of what Weiss and Drews say, there is at least a possibility that the young man from
Nain was in a state of suspended animation. On the other hand, the fact that during the time
of the Tannaim, and in remembrance of Elijah and Elisha, rabbis were credited with raising the
dead (cf. Mek. Amalek §1 (on Exod 17:8–13))35 raises the suspicion that the story is completely
unhistorical. But that that, as Drews argues, speaks against the historicity of Jesus, is not right. It
is only right when Drews says that “according to the views of all ancients, extraordinary people
were capable of performing such miracles.”36 One must add here that this view was shared by
the Palestinians during the time of Jesus. From that, though, we could only conclude that Jesus’
contemporaries considered him an extraordinary individual (a prophet, as in Luke 7:16!). In
other words, such miracle stories are a reflection of the greatness of such a man, an expression of
the admiration he received. They are not proof against the historicity of the person concerned.37
The following should also be added here: Drews might read in the above mentioned book
how Weiss judges [86] the reviving of Jairus’ daughter and the healing of the woman with the
issue of blood.38 How critical and careful Weiss is here! That this method of treating miracles
should be called “childish” cannot be maintained by Drews.
In the life of Apollonius of Tyana one also finds a whole list of exorcisms. Drews hurries by
the question of historical content in such stories much too quickly. He too knows that in ancient
times exorcists were common, as well as even today in Roman Catholicism such exorcisms are
practised. One cannot conclude that it is all myth, and that the “possessed” as well as the exorcist
are non-historical figures. When today’s critical theology (compare both Johannes Weiss and
Gottfried Traub) understands such healings as the effects of suggestion, it is not proof of their
bias and foolishness, rather it should find the approval of philologians and historians, just as it
has, for example, found the approval of a medical doctor like Wilhelm Ebstein.39 In the life of
Apollonius of Tyana the following exorcisms, among others, are found, which are informative in
comparison to the New Testament:
The first one reads as follows:
Once he was lecturing on the subject of libations, and there happened to be present at the talk
a foppish youth with such a reputation for shamelessness that he had once been the subject of
bawdy songs.40 Corcyra was his place of origin, and he claimed descent from Alcinous, Odysseus’
on raising the dead.” Regarding very similar stories in which the dead are raised, compare also O. Weinreich, Antike
Heilungswunder: Untersuchungen zum Wunderglauben der Griechen und Römer, RVV 8/1 (Giessen: Töpelmann, 1909), 173.
34
J. Weiss, Die Schriften des Neuen Testaments, 2 vols. (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1907), 1:449.
35
[Discussed in Fiebig, Jüdische Wundergeschichten, 36–8.]
36
37
One should also take note that miracles reported by Apollonius contain similar features of compassion as the story in the
New Testament. Jesus, unlike Apollonius, does not use magical words.
38
Weiss, Die Schriften des Neuen Testaments, 1:120–24.
39
Compare his informative book: Die Medizin im Neuen Testament und im Talmud (Stuttgart: F. Enke, 1903).
40
A form of common songs. [Jones, Philostratus I, 361 n.30, notes that the text literally reads “ ‘song of the carts,’ since carts
were used at the Eleusinian mysteries as a place for bawdy repartee.”]
host on Phaeacia. Apollonius was explaining how to pour libations, and advising not to drink
from this kind of cup, but to keep it for the gods, undefiled and untouched by human lips. He
also advised that the cup should have handles, and that one should pour libations over the
handle, [87] the part from which humans are least likely to drink. The youth greeted his remark
with a loud, licentious laugh, at which Apollonius looked up at him and said, “It is not you that
are committing this outrage, but the demon who controls you without your knowledge.”
In fact without knowing it the youth was possessed by a demon. He laughed at things that
nobody else did and went to weeping without any reason, and he talked and sang to himself.
Most people thought that the exuberance of youth produced these effects, but he was being
prompted by the demon, and only seemed to be playing the tricks that were being played on
him. When Apollonius looked at the spirit, it uttered sounds of fear and fury, such as people
being burned alive or tortured do, and it swore to keep away from the youth and not enter into
any human. But Apollonius spoke to it as an angry householder does to a slave who is wily,
crafty, shameless, and so on, and told it to give proof of his departure. It replied, “I will knock
that statue over,” indicating one of the statues around the Royal Colonnade, where all this was
taking place.
When the statue first moved slightly, then fell, the outcry at this and the way people clapped
in amazement were past description. The youth, as if waking up, rubbed his eyes, looked at the
sun’s beams, and won the respect of all the people gazing at him. From then on he no longer
seemed dissolute, or had unsteady gaze, but returned to his own nature no worse off than if he
had taken a course of medicine. He got rid of his capes, cloaks, and other fripperies, and fell in
love with deprivation and the philosopher’s cloak, and stripped down to Apollonius’s style.41
(Philostratus, Vit. Apoll. 4.20.1–3)
This miracle story is easily understood as the effect of suggestion. Several concrete details raise
one’s confidence in the story’s historicity. Only the toppling on the statue makes one skeptical.
In the New Testament it is Mark which contains many exorcisms, both individual and grouped.
After such stories in the New Testament, the amazement of the observers is also highlighted,
without always referring to [88] Jesus’ messiahship (compare, for example, Mark 1:27; also
Mark 3:22–27, which says nothing of Jesus’ messiahship; Mark 5:42; and so on). That a
demon42 was threatened, that a demon felt tortured, that he verbalized a plea and spoke with
the exorcist, and the condition of the healed is all found in the New Testament, for example
in Mark 5:1–12 and parallels, Mark 1:23–26. Such stories in the New Testament also contain
several concrete details which raises confidence in its historicity. Drews wants to understand
the story of the possessed at Gerasa or Gadara with Samuel Lublinski43 as symbolic. “Only the
extremely dull,” he says in the above work, “would conclude from the description of the scene,
from the presense of pigs and so on, that it is dealing with a historic place or that the story is
historically accurate. It is so obvious that it is dealing with the underworld, with a symbolic
41
[Trans. Jones, Philostratus I, 361, 363; cf. Jacobs, Flavius Philostratus des Ältern, 370–2.]
42
When in the above exorcism Apollonius is called “Lord” and the demon “servant,” it should be compared to Matt 8:9 and
parallels.
43
S. Lublinski, Das werdende Dogma vom Leben Jesu, Urchristliche Erdkreis und sein Mythos 2 (Jena: E. Diederichs,
1910), 131–3.
visualization of the Savior’s power over the demons, and the pigs are only included because they
were avoided and unclean, and as such completed the picture of the underworld scene.”44 Pigs
were already considered to be connected with the demonic by the Babylonians, which made
them their preferred animals.45 That they are in closer relationship with the underworld is never
mentioned in Mark. In Luke 8:31–33 the demons would rather go into pigs than back into the
underworld. Therefore this story isn’t really dealing with the underworld, as Drews argues. The
story could likely be a “visualization of the Savior’s power over demons,” which in those days
was gladly told. I nevertheless believe with Weiss and Traub46 that there are no pressing grounds
here to conclude that the story is completely fictitious [89], even though Matt 8:28 speaks of
two instead of one demon possessed which Jesus encountered in Gadara. There are several other
discrepancies in comparison with the parallel passages in Mark 5:1–14, Matt 8:28–33, and Luke
8:26–34. The individual descriptions in these texts do not allow the incident to be seen as purely
symbolic and completely unhistorical. The possibility that the story rests on mere fabrication and
the building of a legend has to be admitted. Historical science cannot prove, just as it cannot
with Apollonius of Tyana and many others, that it had to be like that. It can only speculate what
might have happened. When Drews claims that he has the only possible explanation for the
story, then that is a confidence to which he, as a historical researcher, does not have the right.
One cannot go beyond possibilities and probabilities in this case.
Several additional—and for the New Testament important—miracle stories from the life of
Apollonius of Tyana follow. In my opinion these show that one goes too far in judging all miracle
stories as unhistorical, such as Arthur Drews thinks he can do with respect to the miracle stories
of the New Testament.
The second exorcism story reads as follows:
In the middle of this conversation, the Wise Men were interrupted by the messenger
bringing some Indians in need of cures. He brought forward a woman praying to them on
her son’s behalf. He was sixteen years old, she said, but had been possessed by a spirit for
two years, and the spirit had a sly, deceitful character. When one of the Wise Men asked on
what evidence she said this, she replied, “This boy of mine is rather handsome to look at,
and the spirit is in love with him. He will not allow him to be rational, or go to school or
to archery lessons, or to stay at home either, but carries him off into deserted places. My
boy no longer has his natural voice but speaks in deep, ringing tones as men do, and his
eyes, too, are more someone else’s than his own. All this makes me weep and tear my hair,
and I naturally scold my son, but he does not recognize me.
[90] “But when I decided to come here, as I did a year ago, the spirit confessed who he
was, using my son as a medium. He said he was the ghost of a man who formerly died in
war, and died still in love with his wife; but the woman broke their marriage bond three
days after his death by marrying another man, and from that time, he said, he had loathed
44
45
Compare M. Jastrow, Die Religion Babyloniens und Assyriens, Erster Band (Giessen: J. Töpelmann, 1905), 334–7.
46
Weiss, Die Schriften des Neuen Testaments, 1:118–20; G. Traub, Die Wunder im Neuen Testament, 2nd ed.,
Religionsgeschichtlichen Volksbücher V/2 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1907), 42.
the love of women and had transferred his affection to the boy. And he promised that if
I did not accuse him before you, he would give the boy many wonderful presents. This
made some impression on me, but has kept me waiting for a long time now, and acts as sole
master of my house, deaf to moderation and to truth.”
The Wise Man then asked her if the boy was nearby, but she said, “No: I did everything to
make him come, but that spirit threatened me with ‘cliffs’ and ‘precipices,’ and with killing
my son if I brought my complaint here.” “Take courage,” said the Wise Man, “he will not kill
him when has read this,” and producing a letter from his pocket he gave it to the woman. It
was addressed to the spirit with threats and rebuke.47 (Philostratus, Vit. Apoll. 3.38)
That such accounts rest largely on actual events, the likes of which were common practice for
miracle doctors, exorcists and magicians during the days of the Roman emperors, should not be
unthinkable; especially since it is not mentioned if “the demon” was impressed by the “terrible
threats.”
Immediately after come the following healings of a lame man, a blind man, and a man with
a lame hand:
There also came a lame man of about thirty. He had been an expert lion hunter, but when a
lion had attacked him his hip had been dislocated and he was lame in one leg. But the Wise
Man massaged his hip with his hands, the young man recovered his proper gait. Someone
else who had lost the use of his eyes went with his sight fully restored, and another man
with a withered arm made strong again.48 (Philostratus, Vit. Apoll. 3.39)
This story should also not lie beyond the realm of what is possible. When Drews [91] traces the
healing by Jesus of the lame, blind, and deaf back to Isa 35:4–5,49 where it says: “He himself
(God) will save you. Then the eyes of the blind will be opened, and the ears of the deaf will be
unstopped. Then the lame will leap like a deer, and the tongue of the dumb will shout for joy,”
this might have some support in Matt 11:4–5 and the parallel in Luke 7:22–23, but it is not
sufficient to explain all healings of the lame, blind, and deaf mentioned in the New Testament.
In Mark no reference is made to Isaiah in regards to the miracles. Moreover, when it comes to
healings of the lame, blind, and even the deaf and dumb,50 it lies close at hand that the effect
was caused by suggestion. I therefore agree with the way in which Weiss explains the healing of
the paralytic (Mark 2:1–12 and parallels). He says there, in my opinion rightly: “The healing
procedure belongs to those miracle accounts which are the easiest for us to understand and
believe.”51 He is also right in emphasizing that this story, with Jesus’ surprising announcement
of forgiven sins and with the other details, “is not found on the same path as typical miracle
stories.” Obviously Drews has another reason for being suspicious of the paralytic’s healing. He
47
[Trans. Jones, Philostratus I, 299, 301, 303; cf. Jacobs, Flavius Philostratus des Ältern, 331–3.]
48
[Trans. Jones, Philostratus I, 303; cf. Jacobs, Flavius Philostratus des Ältern, 333.]
49
Drews, Die Christusmythe. Zweiter Teil, 257–8.
50
See Ebstein above, n.39.
51
says: “The historian knows that the miracle worker’s command to the sick to get up, take his
bed and go, is a common phrase in such stories.”52 Drews gained this insight from Reitzenstein
and Weinreich.53
Reitzenstein plays on the following story from Lucian:
“Never mind him [the skeptic in the present dialogue],” said Ion (a Platonist), “and I will
tell you [92] a wonderful story. I was still a young lad, about fourteen years old, when
someone came and told my father that Midas the vine-dresser, ordinarily a strong and
industrious servant, had been bitten by a viper toward midday and was lying down, with
his leg already in a state of mortification. While he was tying up the runners and twining
them about the poles, the creature had crawled up and bitten him on the great toe; then it
had quickly gone down into its hole, and he was groaning in mortal anguish.
“As this report was being made, we saw Midas himself being brought up on a litter by
his fellow-slaves, all swollen and livid, with a clammy skin and but little breath left in him.
Naturally my father was distressed, but a friend who was there said to him, ‘Cheer up: I
will at once go and get you a Babylonian, one of the so-called Chaldeans, who will cure the
fellow.’ Not to make a long story of it, the Babylonian came and brought Midas back to
life, driving the poison out of his body by a spell, and also binding upon his foot a fragment
which he broke from the tombstone of a dead maiden.
“Perhaps his is nothing out of the common: although Midas himself picked up the
litter on which he had been carried and went to the farm, so potent was the spell and the
fragment of the tombstone.”54 (Lucian, Philops. 11)
To this Reitzenstein makes the following comment: “for theologians I emphasize the obviously
typical formula: ‘Midas himself took up the bed on which he had been brought, and left.’ ”
Weinreich copies Reitzenstein’s words in commenting on the same story: “The end of this story,
‘Midas took up his bed and left’ is obviously a typical formula.” He adds: “To me there seems to
be an increasing development in the motive. The sick person is brought on a bed, a litter, and can
walk home after [93] the successful miraculous healing.” He then goes on to list several proofs
for this “ability to walk home after the healing.” Here the following is to be observed: (1) Midas
is not commanded to take his bed. It is merely recorded that he did. Jesus, on the other hand,
commanded the paralytic to take up his bed. (2) Stories of a sick person that had to be carried
before his healing would naturally include that after the healing he could walk, just like stories of
a blind person that was healed naturally tell us that he could see. I do not find that one has to see
this as a typical formula or characteristic. (3) That the healed man was able to carry his own bed
is definitely a step beyond being “able to walk,” but to call this an “obvious typical characteristic”
is not so obvious to me. That the healed man would take his litter—which seems to have been
quite light—home is just as natural as a healed paralytic walking, or a healed blind person seeing.
52
53
Reitzenstein, Hellenistische Wundererzählungen, 3 n.2; Weinreich, Antike Heilungswunder, 174.
54
[The English translation is adapted from A. M. Harmon, Lucian III, LCL 130 (London: Heinemann; Cambridge,
MA: Harvard University Press, 1921), 335, 337. Fiebig makes use of A. Pauly’s German translation in Griechische Prosaiker
in neuen Uebersetzungen, Band 76, ed. G. L. F. Tafel, C. N. Osiander, and G. Schwab (Stuttgart: Metzler, 1830), 1363–5.]
Reitzenstein does not give any convincing proof that this is a typical characteristic. Therefore
I see no reason to question the previous Hellenistic miracle story of the paralytic on the basis of
this characteristic. I would only like to include this comment:
When one reads through the dialog of Lucian’s Philopseudes, one is involuntarily infected
by his skepticism of all miracle stories from that time period. This skepticism can become so
strong that one might lean towards thinking nothing whatsoever historical or factual is left in
those stories, without even examining if some actual facts might be contained in them. The
same skepticism is transmitted to the readers of Reitzenstein and Weinreich, who discuss literary
forms of such stories without ever asking the question what historical facts they might contain.
Towards historical elements [94], which might be contained in the life story of Apollonius,
Reitzenstein seems to be very skeptical. I freely admit that in this entire field, including the
Gospels, careful skepticism is not just our right, but our urgent obligation. We are dealing with
a type of literature that makes it very difficult to determine which elements are the solid rocks
of historical facts. That Drews is right in warning us not to put our trust in every detail of the
stories makes sense. After all, we all know how vivid the imaginations of both people and poets
are. On the other hand, such general and all-encompassing skepticism seems to overlook two
things: (1) Even poetry can contain elements of reality and history, such as Schiller’s historical
dramas. (2) Just because an era is rich with belief in miracles does not mean miracle stories of
that time cannot be based on actual events, touched up with the miraculous aspects; compare
with the historical components found in the Jewish miracle stories above. One cannot measure
all miracle stories with the same yardstick. One must observe the differences which lie at hand.
That I do not lack in the necessary skepticism to criticize miracle stories should become apparent
in the following comments. I will mainly deal with those miracles of Jesus which, in my opinion,
are not based on any historical facts, which are pure legends: the miraculous feedings of the
multitudes and the miraculous stories of the sea.
The miraculous feedings have parallels in the Elisha stories and in the Rabbis (cf. b. Taʿan.
24b–25a).55 That such miracle stories should not be rationalized, as Karl Weiser does,56 is
today obvious. If, as Weiss believes,57 the miraculous feeding is based on a memory of an
actual meal Jesus shared with the multitudes, seems to me, as well as to Traub,58 questionable.
To tell [95] of such a miracle one does not require a memory of such a meal, rather it suffices
to remember that Jesus was repeatedly surrounded by great masses of people by the Sea of
Gennesaret. My view on this is strengthened by the exact correspondence of the details with
2 Kgs 4:42–44 and by the connection of these miracles with Jesus’ walking on the Sea of
Gennesaret.
That the stories of the sea lack any historical content, especially concerning their miraculous
aspects, should be quite obvious. Regarding the walking on water, Traub refers to the Old
Testament and Buddhist parallels.59 One could also refer to Friedrich von Spiegel’s life of
55
[This is the story of the bread miracle worked by Hanina ben Dosa, which Fiebig discusses in Jüdische Wundergeschichten,
22–4 (no. 5).]
56
[Fiebig here refers to a theatrical play by K. Weiser, called Jesus-Tetralogie, published in 1906.]
57
58
Traub, Die Wunder im Neuen Testament, 63.
59
Ibid., 57–60.
Zarathustra,60 according to which Zarathustra’s prayer parts the sea and allows him and his
disciples to walk through.61 Just as legendary is Peter’s miraculous catch of fish, which, still
missing in Mark and Matthew, first appears in Luke 5:1–11 and John 21:3–14. For Jesus to have
such influence on fish is just as impossible as the story in Matt 17:24–27 or the story of the pearl
in the fish in rabbinic literature (cf. b. Šabb. 119a).62 Weiss also clearly expresses his skepticism
towards this story.63 For the calming of the storm we have a parallel in Ps 107:23, as well as
exact parallels in rabbinic literature (cf. b. B. Meṣ. 59b; y. Ber. 9:1, 13b),64 and Jonah 1:3, 5,
to which Drews refers.65 In this situation, similar to the rain magic, the prayer could have been
answered through a coincidental act of nature. On the other hand, it should be considered that
for Asklepios and Serapis the “power to heal the suffering of mankind came with the ability to
command wind and waves.”66 At least I would be more willing to recognize [96] that a sea story
like this could be based on a historical event, naturally without seeing a miracle in it.67
Conclusion
Summary and Religious Value of the Miracle Stories
Whoever considers all the presented facts will, in my opinion, have to agree with the following
statements:
1. It is already clear, and will become even clearer in the future, that the New Testament,
especially because of the miracle stories it contains, proves to be an ancient book, a book
displaying the literature and thought processes of the Roman imperial era. Today’s historically
uneducated Christian wonders about the miracles of the New Testament and believes he can
discover in Jesus’ miracles proof of his uniqueness, while the historically educated Christian
would wonder if the New Testament did not contain miracle stories and does not believe that
they are unique to the person of Jesus.
2. It would be wrong to agree with Drews that the miracles of the New Testament prove that
Jesus is not a historical figure. One has to differentiate between miracle stories. Reitzenstein,
for example, also emphasizes this, which is an excellent testimony to Drews since it comes
from a philologian rather than a theologian. In regards to the walking on water miracles
Reitzenstein says: “To speak of a cultural mindset, or of a widespread belief in magic which
impacts life as directly as the casting out of demons, is not possible.”68 What he is saying is
that in those days some actual events were given miraculous explanations, events for which
we today have natural explanations, while other miracle stories, void of any factual basis,
were also told.
3. As all miracle stories told of historical personalities, especially the rabbinical miracle stories,
prove the admiration [97] offered to those individuals, the craving for the miraculous during
60
F. Spiegel, “Ueber das Leben Zarathustra’s,” Sitzungsberichte der königl. bayer. Akademie der Wissenschaften (1867): 50.
61
See also Reitzenstein, Hellenistische Wundererzählungen, 125.
62
[Discussed in Fiebig, Jüdische Wundergeschichten, 62–3 (no. 20).]
63
64
[Discussed in Fiebig, Jüdische Wundergeschichten, 31–5, 61–2 (nos. 10 and 19).]
65
66
Weinreich, Antike Heilungswunder, 14.
67
[The main body of Fiebig’s text ends here. His conclusion and summary follow.]
68
Reitzenstein, Hellenistische Wundererzählungen, 125.
that era, and prove that real faith still desires a massive, visible display of God’s working, so
also the New Testament miracle stories involving Jesus and the apostles prove Jesus’ greatness,
the admiration offered to him, and the craving for miracles in his time.
4. The religious power of those who have faith in miracles, who have unlimited confidence in
God’s omnipotence and the might of prayer is unmistakable. When it comes to Jesus, especially
his confidence in the miraculous impact of prayer, we feel an unmistakable distance from him
and his piety. We in the field of scientific theology have long ago become accustomed to this
feeling of distance, arising from the gap between our piety and Jesus’ apocalyptic69 ideas. For
the sake of truth we must emphasize that Jesus’ confidence in his ability to perform miracles
demonstrates a very strong religious faith. This faith of Jesus is the starting point for modern
prayer-healing, and other similar practises, which does not correspond with the normal piety
of our day. In this case we consciously step back from Jesus and his era.
5. One cannot deny that Jesus’ originality surfaces in the miracle stories: magical formulas are
not in his vocabulary, and his only magical means being spittle or the laying on of hands.
Traub is justified in saying: “The simple dignity, which despises performances relying on the
senses of the masses, remains the unique mark of Jesus’ healing method.”70
The gospels’ value for today [98] is not found in the miracle stories, but rather in Jesus’ words.
Obviously Drews questions those as well, mainly because of the many undeniable parallels to
Jesus’ words in rabbinical literature. To prove Drews right or wrong in that opinion demands
another book, which I soon hope to write, if God gives me life, strength and time. It will be
even more apparent than in this present work how important and indispensable rabbinical
studies are for New Testament research. I do not believe I can bring my comments on Jewish
miracle stories and their relationship to the New Testament to a better conclusion than with
the following quote from Traub’s book on New Testament miracles:
… the history of the essence of miracle is no trivial study. One should not see in them God’s
revelation, but the confused, muddled letters, with which the human soul first tried to spell
the name of God. The whole story then becomes somewhat venerable … There is something
touching in the attempts to prove Jesus’ honor with that material of veneration which was
known and at hand. We ridicule the old miracles, we seek to understand them inwardly and
to communicate with the people of days gone by.
Only there, where one tries to bring it down to the old level, will we energetically defend
the right of our piety. God remains the God of order, who desires to be known in his laws …
Jesus is no miracle man for us, but the Savior. As such we honor him, by allowing him freely
to give us strength and peace, and not burdening him with a heavy, glamorous robe … He is
the leader of all who allow their souls to be led to God. That is where they experience the
miracle.71
69
Meaning Jesus’ ideas about the imminence of his return and of the world’s end. For an elementary introduction to this
subject, see P. Fiebig, Weltanschauungsfragen: Das geschichtliche Material zum Verständnis Jesu. Konfessionskunde für die
Schüler und Schülerinnen höherer Lehranstalten (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1911).
70
Traub, Die Wunder im Neuen Testament, 45.
71
Traub, Die Wunder im Neuen Testament, 67–8.
1. BIBLIOGRAPHY
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Scriptures. Vol. 1. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2013.
Bauer, B. Christus und die Cäsaren: Der Ursprung des Christentums aus dem römischen Griechentum.
Berlin: Grosser, 1877. 2nd ed., 1879.
Bauer, B. Kritik der evangelischen Geschichte der Synoptiker. 3 vols. Leipzig: Wigand, 1841–2. 2nd ed., 1846.
Bauer, B. Kritik der Evangelien und Geschichte ihres Ursprungs. 4 vols. Berlin: Hempel, 1850–1.
Bautz, F. W. “Drews, Arthur.” Pages 1381–2 in band 1 of Biographisch-Bibliographisches Kirchenlexikon.
Nordhausen: Traugott Bautz, 1975. Repr. 1990.
Bultmann, R. Jesus and the Word. Translated by L. Pettibone Smith and E. Huntress Lantero. New York: Scribner’s,
1934. Translation of R. Bultmann, Jesus. Die Unsterblichen: Die geistigen Heroen der Menschheit in ihrem
Leben und Wirken 1. Berlin: Deutsche Bibliothek, 1926.
Bultmann, R. Theology of the New Testament. 2 vols. New York: Scribner’s, 1951–5.
Burke, T. ed. New Testament Apocrypha: More Noncanonical Scriptures. Vol. 2. Grand Rapids,
MI: Eerdmans, 2020.
Charles, R. H., ed. The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament. 2 vols. Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1913.
Charlesworth, J. H.. “The Fundamental Importance of an Expansive Collection of ‘Old Testament
Pseudepigrapha’.” Pages xi–xvi in Old Testament Pseudepigrapha: More Noncanonical Scriptures. Vol.
1. Edited by R. Bauckham, J. R. Davila, and A. Panayotov. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2013.
Charlesworth, J. H. The Pseudepigrapha and Modern Research, with a Supplement. 2nd ed. SBLSCS
7. Chico: Scholars Press, 1981; and Charlesworth, J. H., The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha and the New
Testament, SNTSMS 54. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985; revised and reprinted as The
Old Testament Pseudepigrapha and the New Testament: Prolegomena for the Study of Christian Origins.
Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 1998.
Charlesworth, J. H., and P. Pokorny, eds. Jesus Research: An International Perspective. Grand Rapids,
MI: Eerdmans, 2009.
Charlesworth, J. H., with B. Rhea and P. Pokorny, eds. Jesus Research: New Methodologies and Perceptions.
Drews, A. Das Markusevangelium als Zeugnis gegen die Geschichtlichkeit Jesu. Jena: Diederichs, 1921.
Drews, A. Die Christusmythe. Jena: Diederichs, 1909. 3rd ed., 1924. Translated into English as The Christ
Myth. London: Unwin, 1910.
Drews, A. Die Christusmythe. Zweiter Teil. Die Zeugnisse für die Geschichtlichkeit Jesu: Eine Antwort an die
Schriftgelehrten mit besonderer Berücksichtigung der theologischen Methode. Jena: Diederichs, 1911.
Drews, A. Die Leugnung der Geschichtlichkeit Jesu in Vergangenheit und Gegenwart. Karlsruhe: G.
Braun, 1926.
Drews, A. Die Petruslegende: Ein Beitrag zur Mythologie des Christentums. Frankfurt am Main: Neuer
Frankfurther Verlag, 1910.
Dunkmann, K. “Die Christusmythe.” Der Geisteskampf der Gegenwart (March 1910): 85–94.
Ebstein, W. Die Medizin im Neuen Testament und im Talmud. Stuttgart: F. Enke, 1903.
Fiebig, P. Altjüdische Gleichnisse und die Gleichnisse Jesu. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1904.
Fiebig, P. Die Gleichnisreden Jesu im Lichte der rabbinischen Gleichnisse des neutestamentlichen Zeitalters.
Fiebig, P. Jüdische Wundergeschichten des neutestamentlichen Zeitalters. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1911.
Fiebig, P. Rabbinische Gleichnisse: Vokalisierte hebräisceh und aramäische Texte dargeboten für das Studium
der Gleichnisse Jesu mit Verzeichnis der nichtbiblischen Wörter. Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs, 1929.
Fiebig, P. Weltanschauungsfragen: Das geschichtliche Material zum Verständnis Jesu. Konfessionskunde für die
Schüler und Schülerinnen höherer Lehranstalten. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1911.
Goguel, M. Jésus de Nazareth, mythe ou histoire? Paris: Payot, 1925.
Gröber, C. Christus lebte: eine Kritik der “Christusmythe” Arthur Drews. Konstanz: Oberbadische
Verlagsanstalt, 1923.
Hahn, J. “Weiser, göttlicher Mensch oder Scharlatan? Das Bild des Apollonius von Tyana bei Heiden und
Christen.” Pages 87–109 in Literarische Konstituierung von Identifikationsfiguren in der Antike. Edited by
B. Aland, J. Hahn, and C. Ronning. STAC 16. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003.
Harmon, A. M. Lucian III. LCL 130. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1921.
Jacobs, F. Flavius Philostratus des Ältern. Stuttgart: J. B. Metsler, 1828.
Jastrow, M. Die Religion Babyloniens und Assyriens. Erster Band. Giessen: J. Töpelmann, 1905.
Jones, C. P. “Apollonius of Tyana, Hero and Holy Man.” Pages 75–84 in Philostratus’s Heroikos: Religion and
Cultural Identity in the Third Century C.E. Edited by E. B. Aitken and J. K. B. Maclean. WGRW 6. Atlanta,
GA: SBL, 2004.
Jones, C. P. Philostratus I: Apollonius of Tyana I. Books I–IV. LCL 16. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press, 2005.
Jülicher, A. Die Gleichnisreden Jesu. Freiburg: Mohr Siebeck, 1888. 2nd ed., 1899.
Koskenniemi, E. Apollonios von Tyana in der neutestamentlichen Exegese: Forschungsbericht und Weiterführung
der Diskussion. WUNT II/61. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1994.
Koskenniemi, E. “Apollonius of Tyana, the Greek Miracle Workers in the Time of Jesus and the New
Testament.” Pages 165–81 in Hermeneutik der frühchristlichen Wundererzählungen: Geschichtliche,
literarische und rezeptionsorientierte Perspektiven. Edited by B. Kollmann and R. Zimmermann. WUNT
339. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014.
Landau, B., and T. Burke, eds. New Testament Apocrypha: More Noncanonical Scriptures. Vol. 1. Grand
Lübbe, H. “Drews, Christian Heinrich Arthur.” Page 117 in Neue Deutsche Biographie. Band 4. Berlin: Duncker
& Humboldt, 1959.
Lublinski, S. Das werdende Dogma vom Leben Jesu. Urchristliche Erdkreis und sein Mythos 2. Jena: E.
Diederichs, 1910.
Pauly, A. Lucian Werke 11. Band 76 of Griechische Prosaiker in neuen Uebersetzungen. Edited by G. L. F. Tafel,
C. N. Osiander, and G. Schwab. Stuttgart: Metzler, 1830.
Reitzenstein, R. Hellenistische Wundererzählungen. Leipzig: Teubner, 1906.
Rüger, H. P. “Fiebig, Paul.” Page 139 in band 5 of Neue Deutsche Biographie. Berlin: Duncker & Humboldt, 1961.
Sanders, J. A. “Introduction: Why the Pseudepigrapha?” Pages 13–19 in The Pseudepigrapha and Early Biblical
Interpretation. Edited by J. H. Charlesworth and C. A. Evans. JSPSup 14. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1993.
Spiegel, F. “Ueber das Leben Zarathustra’s.” Sitzungsberichte der königl. bayer. Akademie der Wissenschaften
(1867): 1–92.
Staab, K. “Wege zur ‘Christusmythe’ von A. Drews.” Bib 5 (1924): 26–38.
Strauss, D. F. Das Leben Jesu kritisch bearbeitet. 2 vols. Tübingen: C.F. Osiander, 1835–6. 3rd ed., 1838–9.
4th ed., 1840. Translated into English as The Life of Jesus, Critically Examined. 3 vols. London: Chapman,
1846. 5th ed., 1906. Repr. Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1972. Repr., Lives of Jesus Series; London: SCM
Press, 1973.
Traub, G. Die Wunder im Neuen Testament. 2nd ed. Religionsgeschichtlichen Volksbücher V/2. Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 1907.
Weinreich, O. Antike Heilungswunder: Untersuchungen zum Wunderglauben der Griechen und Römer. RVV
8/1. Giessen: Töpelmann, 1909.
Weiss, J. Die Schriften des Neuen Testaments. 2 vols. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1907.
Windisch, H. “Das Problem der Geschichtlichkeit Jesu: die Christusmythe.” ThRu 2 (1930): 207–52.
Wrede, W. Das Messiasgeheimnis in den Evangelien: Zugleich ein Beitrag zum Verständnis des Markusevangeliums.
Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1901.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Italian Scholarship on Second

Temple Judaism and Christian
Origins, from the Renaissance to
the Twentieth Century
GABRIELE BOCCACCINI
1. THE CRITICAL APPROACH TO THE BIBLE IN

THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE
We may have forgotten it, but everything started in Italy, in the mid-fifteenth century, when in
the years 1452–53 the humanists Lorenzo Valla and Poggio Bracciolini engaged in one of the
virulent scholarly controversies typical of the time. Both were among the protagonists of the critical
rediscovery of ancient classical texts in Europe. In a series of five Orationes in Laurentium Valla, the
more conservative papal secretary Poggio maintained that humanism and theology should remain
two separate fields of inquiry and labeled Valla’s radical application of textual criticism to Scriptures
as mordacitas and dementia. Valla reacted with equal strength by countering Poggio’s arguments,
line by line, in his Antidota in Pogium. His point was that biblical religious texts also had to be
treated critically, that is, the same way as any other ancient classical texts—as simple as that.
In January 1989 I arrived at Princeton Theological Seminary as a visiting scholar. It was my first time in the United States.
In the 1980s the choice to visit PTS (instead of a European institution) was still a little nonconformist for a young Italian
scholar in biblical studies. But James H. Charlesworth was reason enough to break the rule. His work as editor-in-chief of
the new collection of the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha in English had made him the leading international authority in the
field. I was completing my Ph.D. at the University of Turin and my supervisor Paolo Sacchi had me join the editorial team
that was publishing the OT Pseudepigrapha into Italian (Apocrifi dell’Antico Testamento, vol. 2 (Torino: UTET, 1989)).
Charlesworth welcomed me with great generosity as one of his students. I was not alone. With Loren Stuckenbruck we
immediately established a close working relationship and friendship that has lasted for our entire professional careers. One
of the tasks of my American mission was to translate Charlesworth’s critical work on the Pseudepigrapha into Italian (Gli
pseudedegrafi dell’Antico Testamento e il Nuovo Testamento (Brescia: Paideia, 1990)). I soon discovered that the interest
we Italians had in Charlesworth was mutual. For the Italian edition of The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha and the New
Testament (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), Charlesworth had added a foreword and revised the text and
the bibliography to include references to, and enter in dialogue with, the work of Italian scholars. He had realized the
potential of the “Italian school” in the study of the Enoch tradition and was as curious to learn more about our experience.
Lorenzo Valla was indeed “the first significant biblical scholar of the Renaissance.”1 Since 1443
he had been writing some critical notes in which he compared the traditional Latin text of the
Vulgate to the original Greek of the New Testament. He first presented his work to Pope Nicholas
V in 1453 (Collatio Novi Testamenti). Following the same path, Giannozzo Manetti dared produce
in 1454 a new Latin translation of the New Testament from the original Greek, the first ever
accomplished after Jerome’s.2 Lorenzo Valla continued to revise his notes in the following years.
At his death in 1457 he left a clearly more sophisticated, though shorter, version of his work
(Adnotationes in Novum Testamentum).
Lorenzo Valla’s and Gianozzo Manetti’s works circulated in manuscript form (the press was still in its
infancy) and had at the beginning only a limited impact. The first printed Italian Bible in 1471 was based
on the Latin text of the Vulgate.3 The author was Nicolò Malermi, a member of the Camaldolese Order.
It is the second known translation of the Bible in any modern language, after the German edition by
Johannes Mentelin in 1466. Malermi used and adapted previous fourteenth-century translations, even
if at the expense of literary quality, and was not much concerned about philological and textual issues.
It was only a matter of time, however, before the seminal work of Valla and Manetti would
produce abundant fruit. In the summer of 1504 Erasmus saw a copy of Valla’s Adnotationes in
the Abbey of Parc near Leuven. He immediately realized the value of the work. He published it in
1505,4 and made it the foundation of his revolutionary approach to Scripture, publishing in 1516
the editio princeps of the Greek New Testament with a new Latin translation and notes.5
In 1527 Sante Pagnini accomplished what neither Manetti in 1454 nor Erasmus in 1516 had
achieved; he translated the entire Bible (not only the New Testament) into Latin from the original
languages,6 the first time after Jerome. Pagnini was also the first to divide the text of the Bible into
chapters and verses. Ever since, his division of the Old Testament has become standard; we still use
it today. That of the New Testament instead was modified by the French scholar Robert Estienne
in his edition of the Greek text in 1551.7 Pagnini’s division was not always respectful of the logical
development of the texts, but proved to be very useful to identify accurately and succinctly the biblical
passages.
He invited me to write an article on the contribution of Italian scholars to apocalypticism, which became my first article in
English (“Jewish Apocalyptic Tradition: The Contribution of Italian Scholarship,” in Mysteries and Revelations: Apocalyptic
Studies since the Uppsala Colloquium, ed. J. J. Collins and J. H. Charlesworth (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1991),
33–50). Charlesworth also encouraged me to complete my dissertation in English, and not in Italian as originally planned
(Middle Judaism: Jewish Thought, 300 BCE to 200 CE (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1991)). He asked me to arrange his
first meeting with Sacchi in March 1992 in Rome and guided me step-by-step in my American career, in that long journey
that would lead me to the University of Michigan in 1992 and to the establishment of the Enoch Seminar in 2001. I cannot
think of a better way to honor James H. Charlesworth’s work than to offer him this chapter on the contribution of Italian
scholarship to the study of Second Temple Judaism and Christian Origins.
1
J. Monfasani, “Criticism of Biblical Humanists in Quattrocento Italy,” in Biblical Humanism and Scholasticism in the Age
of Erasmus, ed. E. Rummel (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 21.
2
A. den Haan, “Giannozzo Manetti’s New Testament: New Evidence on Sources, Translation Process and the Use of Valla’s
Annotationes,” Renaissance Studies 28.5 (2013): 731–47.
3
N. Malermi, Bibbia (Venezia: Adam de Ambergau, 1471).
4
D. Erasmus, Laurentii Vallensis viri tam gr[a]‌ ec[a]e q[uam] latin[a]e linguæ peritissimi in Latinam Noui testamenti
interpretationem ex collatione Gr[a]ecorum exemplarium Adnotationes apprime vtiles (Paris: Le Petit, 1505).
5
D. Erasmus, Novum Instrumentum omne (Basel: Johann Froben, 1516).
6
S. Pagnini, Veteris and Novi Testamenti nova translatio (Lyon: Antoine du Ry, 1527).
7
R. Estienne, Nouum Iesu Christi D.N. Testamentum (Genève: Ex officina Roberti Stephani, 1551).
ITALIAN SCHOLARSHIP ON SECOND TEMPLE JUDAISM AND CHRISTIAN ORIGINS 503
Pagnini’s Latin version produced a new generation of Italian translations “from the original
texts.” In 1530–2, two years before the publication of the German Bible by Martin Luther, Antonio
Brucioli completed the first translation of the Bible in any modern language to openly reject the
authority of the Vulgate.8 Brucioli claimed he translated the entire Bible into Italian from the
original languages (Hebrew and Greek), and in Venice was assisted by the Jewish scholar Elias
Levita. In reality, his version of the Old Testament followed more closely the Latin translation by
Sante Pagnini than the Hebrew text, and his version of the New Testament was largely based on the
Latin translation by Erasmus (1516).
Brucioli’s work was printed in Venice by Lucantonio Giunta. The publisher produced two
new editions of the Brucioli Bible in the 1530s. He first asked Zaccaria da Firenze, a follower
of Savonarola, to revise Brucioli’s translation of the New Testament in 1536.9 Then he had
Santi Marmochino, also a follower of Savonarola, revise the Old Testament, with some stylistic
modifications, and printed his work in one volume together with Zaccaria’s revision of the New
Testament.10
The first editions of the Hebrew Bible were also printed in Italy. Jewish printer Abraham ben
Hayyim de’ Tintori completed the first edition of the Torah in 1482 in Bologna, corrected by Joseph
Hayyim ben Aaron Strasbourg Zarfati.11 The entire Tanak appeared in a 1488 edition at Soncino by
Joshua Solomon ben Israel Nathan Soncino (corrected by Abraham ben Hayyim de’ Tintori), and
then in 1494 at Brescia by Gerson ben Moses Soncino.12 The first edition of the so-called rabbinic
Bible (Mikraot Gedolot), including Masoretic notes, targum, and commentary, appeared in Venice
by Daniel Bomberg, edited by Jewish convert Felice da Prato (Felix Pratenses) in 1517–19. It was
then revised in a second edition by Jacob ben Hayyim ben Isaac ibn Adonijah in 1524–5 and in a
third edition by Israel Cornelius Adelkind in 1546–8.13
The new critical spirit of Humanism also affected Judaic Studies. In 1537 Elias Levita openly
challenged the antiquity ascribed to the vowel-points in the Hebrew Bible by the orthodox tradition,
arguing that they were invented by the Masoretes only in the fifth century ce to facilitate the reading
of the text.14 In 1573–75 Azariah de’ Rossi discussed the relationship between the Septuagint and
the Masoretic text of the Hebrew Bible, making extensive use of non-rabbinic sources, from the
Letter of Aristeas (which he translated into Hebrew) to Philo, Josephus, the New Testament, and
the Church Fathers.15
The Italian biblical Renaissance did not remain confined to academic circles. Italian intellectuals
composed poems and plays of biblical subject, from Feo Belcari, to Antonio Cornazzaro, Lucrezia
Tornabuoni and her son Lorenzo de’ Medici, Antonio Alamanni, and Giovan Battista dell’Ottonaio.
Raphael in the School of Athens and Michelangelo in the frescoes in the Sistine Chapel gave a
triumphal representation of the liberal spirit of the age.
8
A. Brucioli, Il Nuovo Testamento (Venezia: Giunta, 1530), and La Biblia (Venezia: Giunta, 1532).
9
Z. da Firenze, Il Nuovo Testamento (Venezia: Giunta, 1536).
10
S. Marmochino, La Biblia (Venezia: Giunta, 1538).
11
Torah (Bologna: Abraham ben Hayyim de’ Tintori, 1482).
12
Tanak (Soncino: Joshua Soncino, 1488); Tanak (Brescia: Gershom Soncino, 1494).
13
Mikraot Gedolot (Venezia: Daniel Bomberg, 1517–19; 2nd ed., 1524–5; 3rd ed., 1546–8).
14
E. Levita, Sefer Massoret ha-Massoret (Venezia: Daniel Bomberg, 1537).
15
Azariah de’ Rossi, Me’or Enayim (Mantova: 1573–78).
The interests of Italian scholars were not limited to the Bible. During the Middle Ages, Josephus
was the most widely read ancient author in Europe; the number of manuscripts of his works
was second only to the Bible. Josephus was known mainly through the medium of ancient Latin
versions (attributed to Rufinus and Cassodorius) as well as in two retellings of the Jewish War, the
“Christian” Hegesippus and the “Jewish” Josippon, both of which were attributed to Josephus.
Some of the earliest editions of Josephus’s works were published in Italy. The editio princeps
of the Hebrew Josippon by Abraham Conat appeared in Mantua in 1474–6,16 followed by two
editions of the Latin text, by Bartolomeo Sacchi in 1475 and Girolamo Squarciafico in 1481.17 An
anonymous Italian translation of the Jewish war appeared as early as 1473, one of the first in any
modern language.18 It was followed by the translation of the Jewish Antiquities and the Hegesippus
by Pietro Lauro in 1544.19 In Italy there also appeared the work of the Portuguese Jewish refugee
Samuel Usque, the first Jewish work after Josephus (and Josippon) to revisit the Second Temple
period and the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple by the Romans.20
While Valla was the forefather of biblical scholarship, Pico della Mirandola began the study of
what we would now call the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha. A “Christian cabalist” Pico believed
that traces of the original wisdom were preserved far beyond the boundaries of the “canon.” He
collected and studied Jewish and Islamic texts and searched for the lost seventy “hidden” texts
mentioned in 4 Ezra. He was particularly fascinated by the possibility of recovering the book(s) of
Enoch, as evidence of the ancient, prediluvian wisdom of humankind.21
The presence of Ethiopian pilgrims is attested in Rome since 1315 and a delegation of Ethiopian
monks from Jerusalem attended the Council of Florence in 1441. In 1481 they got permission
from Pope Sixtus IV to establish a monastery (Hospitium Fratrum Indianorum) in the Vatican, just
behind the apse of St. Peter’s. The church is still today known as St. Stephen of the Abyssinians.
Rome became the center of Ethiopic studies in Europe with the publication of the first book in
Ge’ez.22 Pico visited Rome in 1486, and so did Johannes Reuchlin several times, but no information
about Enoch surfaced, yet.
According to the sixteenth-century writer Serafino Razzi, the first report of a special connection
between Enoch and Ethiopia came in 1516 when two Ethiopian monks from Rome stopped at
the Dominican monastery of Saint Catherine in Pisa on their way to Santiago de Compostela and
entertained the local friars on the customs and beliefs of the Ethiopic church.23 In order to exalt
the virtue of an Ethiopic sage one of the monks said that “like Enoch redivivus, he was revealed the
entire order of the heavens.”24
16
A. Conat, Sefer Yosipon (Mantova: Conat, 1474–76).
17
B. Sacchi, De bello judaico (Roma: Pannartz, 1475); G. Squarciafico, Josephi opera (Venezia: Raynaldus de Novimagio, 1481).
18
Guerra dei Giudei (Firenze: Bartolommeo di Libri, 1493).
19
P. Lauro, De l’antichita giudaiche (Venezia: Vincenzo Vaugris, 1544); P. Lauro, Historia d’Egesippo (Venezia: Michele
Tramezino, 1544).
20
S. Usque, Consolaçam ás tribulaçoens de Israel (Ferrara: Abraham Usque, 1553).
21
G. Boccaccini, “Enochic Traditions,” in A Guide to Early Jewish Texts and Traditions in Christian Transmission, ed. A.
Kulik (New York: Oxford University Press, 2019), 383–416.
22
J. Potken and T. W. Samuel, Alphabetum seu potius syllabarium literarum Chaldaerarum (Roma: Marcellus Silber, 1513).
23
P. Piovanelli, “La redécouverte du Livre d’Hénoch éthiopien en Occident,” La Règle d’Abraham 41 (2019): 103–36.
24
S. Razzi, Vite dei santi, e beati cosi uomini, come donne del sacro ordine de’ Frati Predicatori (Firenze: Bartolomeo
Sermantelli, 1577), 134.
In 1520 diplomatic relations were established between Ethiopia and Portugal. The first monks
began to arrive in Rome directly from Ethiopia and with them came more precise news about the
presence of the book of Enoch in that region. In 1551 the French Christian Cabalist Guillaume
Postel declared that the Enoch prophesies made before the Flood were preserved in the archives of
the Queen of Sheba and that to this day they were believed to be canonical scripture in Ethiopia.25
In 1553 he disclosed his source of information; in Rome (most likely, in 1545–6) he had met
an Abyssinian priest (apparently, Tasfa Seyon) who illustrated him the content of 1 Enoch.26
Postel’s information was included in 1559 by British playwright John Bale in his popular work
on Scriptorum Illustrium maioris Brytanniae posterior pars. From Italy news quickly spread in all
Europe that Enoch’s “work is still today held as canonical scripture in Ethiopia and in the archives
of the church of the Queen of Sheba (Eius opus etiamnum supersest pro canonica scriptura, in
Aethiopia: & in ecclesiae reginae Sabbaeorum archiuis).”27
2. THE COUNTER-REFORMATION: THE DEMISE OF ITALIAN

RENAISSANCE SCHOLARSHIP
In the first half of the sixteenth century Italy seemed to be destined for a leading role in the critical
study of Second Temple Judaism and Christian Origins. The Council of Trento and the Counter-
Reformation put an end to this season.
The controversy about the canon in particular had devastating consequences.28 The Reformation
insisted that the principle of Hebraica veritas enunciated by Jerome in the fourth century should be
strictly interpreted with the exclusion from the canon of all Old Testament writings not included
in the Hebrew Bible. The Church of Rome defended the position of Augustine who against Jerome
had argued that the canon had to follow the Septuagint, which already in the Hellenistic Jewish
communities had acquired a status equal to the Biblia Hebraica.
The council of Trento, however, was not a rematch of Jerome versus Augustine. Whereas the
center of the ancient Christian debate was the Hebraica veritas versus the Graeca veritas, the question
now concerned the relevance of the Latina veritas. The discussion had shifted from the question
of what was authoritative, to the question of who had the authority. By denying the Latina veritas,
the Reformation intended to challenge the authority of the Roman Catholic Church to define the
canon in the name of its tradition, while the Catholics pursued the opposite view, having perfectly
understood what was behind an apparent philological problem. At stake was the present and
future authority of the Church. From the Reformers’ point of view, the Old Testament documents
translated into Latin from the Greek by Jerome without the support of the Hebrew texts came to
symbolize the Roman Catholic abuse of authority. From the opposite perspective of the Roman
Catholic Church, the refusal of the Latin veritas and the translation of the Bible “from the original
texts” was an intolerable rebellion against the foundations of ecclesiastical authority.
25
G. Postel, De Etruriae regionis originibus (Firenze: Giovanni Cipriani, 1551).
26
G. Postel, De originibus (Basel: Joannes Oporinus, 1553); see M. L. Kuntz, Guillaume Postel, Prophet of the Restitution of
All Things: His Life and Thought (Den Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1981), 65.
27
J. Bale, Scriptorum illustrium maioris Brytanniae posterior pars (Basel: Joannes Oporinus, 1559), 3.
28
G. Boccaccini, “Some Brief Notes on the Early History of the Deuterocanonici,” in Canonicity, Setting, Wisdom in the
Deuterocanonicals, ed. G. G. Xeravits, X. Szabó, and J. Zsengellér (Berlin: Gruyter, 2014), 19–28.
In 1549, three years after the conclusion of the Council of Trent, the crisis erupted. In England
Richard Taverner removed Jerome’s “apocryphal” books from its Bible and published them as an
autonomous book. The corpus of the OT Apocrypha was born.29
The reaction of the Roman Catholic Church was extreme. The establishment of the ghettoes in 1555
and the condemnation of Pagnini’s translation in 1559 were two sides of the same coin in the fight
against the Hebraica veritas to reaffirm with the Latina veritas the centrality of ecclesiastical authority
according to the principles of the Council of Trent. The enunciation of the new Tridentine orthodoxy
in biblical interpretation was entrusted to the work of a brilliant Italian scholar, Sixtus of Siena.
Sixtus was born in Siena in 1520 to a Jewish family and as a boy he worshiped in the local
Synagogue and learned Hebrew. He converted to Christianity in his youth and entered the
Franciscan order, where he distinguished himself as a theologian and preacher. In 1551, for his
sympathies for the Reformation, he was accused of heresy and sentenced to the stake. He later
recanted and was pardoned by the Inquisitor, the Dominican Antonio Michele Ghislieri, who had
him transferred to the Dominican order and employed him in Cremona as a member of the Tribunal
of the Inquisition. Sixtus’s Bibliotheca sacra was completed in 1566, the same year in which his
former accuser and now protector Ghislieri became Pope Pius V.30 Published at Venice with papal
patronage, Sixtus’s work was the first main commentary on the Bible after the Council of Trent,
a monumental encyclopedia aimed at defining the orthodox criteria for the interpretation of the
biblical text and the definitive reading of its most controversial passages against the falsehood of
the heretics. It was Sixtus who, in rejecting the Lutheran label of “apocryphal,” coined the term
“deuterocanonical” in recognition of Jerome’s doubts but also to stress that the particular status of
that body of literature did not diminish in any way its canonicity.
That the recognition of the superiority of the Latina veritas over the Hebraica veritas came
from a Jewish convert and a former sympathizer of the Reformation enhanced the Catholic view
of complete submission of the faithful to the authority of the Church and sealed the end of any
freedom in biblical research.
To conform or to leave became the question many had to face. Some of the best biblical scholars
and theologians left Italy, such as Bernardino Ochino, Pietro Martire Vermigli, and Girolamo Zanchi.
They went to Switzerland, England, or Germany, where they contributed to the development of the
Reformation. In Geneva, the son of Italian refugees, Giovanni Diodati translated the Bible into
Italian in 1603 for the first time without the help of any Latin versions, directly from the Hebrew and
Greek texts.31 His translation became the standard version used for centuries by Italian Protestants.
The scholars who remained in Italy had to conform. They quickly learned how to approach
the biblical texts indirectly, with literary narratives where history and erudition could be displayed
without questioning the Latin canon and Tridentine orthodoxy, an art in which both Bartolomeo
Dionigi and Filippo Picinelli excelled.32 Also carefully avoiding theological controversies, Carlo
Sigonio and the Jewish scholar Leone Modena concentrated on the study of the legal institutions
29
R. Taverner, The Volume of the Bokes called Apocrypha (London: John Day and William Seres, 1549).
30
S. da Siena, Bibliotheca sancta, 8 vols. (Venezia: Griffio, 1566).
31
G. Diodati, La Bibbia (Genève: Jean de Tournes, 1603; 2nd ed., with annotations, 1607).
32
B. Dionigi, Compendio historico del Vecchio, e del Nuouo Testamento, cauato dalla sacra Bibbia (Venezia: Valerio
Bonelli, 1586); F. Picinelli, The Lumi riflessi; or dir vogliam, Concetti della Sacra Bibbia osseruati ne i volumi non sacri
(Milano: Francesco Vigone, 1667).
and cultic practices of ancient (and modern) Israel.33 Although restricted to canonical subjects,
Italian artists such as Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio and Artemisia Gentileschi defied the
canons of triumphant Counter-Reformation, revisiting biblical themes with great freedom and
unprecedented realistic sensitivity.34
Italian scholars found more freedom outside the Bible. Between 1560 and 1575 Giulio Ballino,
Agostino Ferentilli, and Pier Francesco Zini for the first time translated and divulged some of Philo’s
treatises.35 In 1580–1 Francesco Baldelli produced another translation of the works of Josephus.36
Some successfully explored new fields. Cesare Baronio devoted his life to the study of Church
history.37 Antonio Bosio’s Roma sotterranea offered in 1632 a first survey of the ancient catacombs of
Rome, establishing the new field of Christian archaeology.38 The Biblioteca magna rabbinica (1675–
93) by Giulio Bartolocci and Carlo Giuseppe Imbonati laid the foundations for the study of Jewish
post-biblical literature.39 Yet despite all these achievements, the critical study of ancient sources never
regained the centrality it had between 1450 and 1550, when Italy was at the forefront of biblical
studies.
3. THE ITALIAN ENLIGHTENMENT

The revival of biblical studies in Italy in the eighteenth century was prompted by the influence of the
French Enlightenment. It was in France that a Catholic biblical scholarship first emerged, eager to
compete with their Protestant colleagues. Three monks, the Carmelite Arcangelo Agostini in Venice,
the Benedictine Lamberto Gaetano Ponsampieri in Lucca, and the Benedictine Prospero Dell’Aquila in
Naples, played a pivotal role not so much for their original research but as translators and interpreters
of the French scholarship in Italy.
A prolific and accomplished author, Agostini, who wrote under the pseudonym of Selvaggio
Canturani, translated several philosophical and historical works from French authors, including
Augustin Calmet and Claude Fleury.40 Lamberto Gaetano Ponsanpieri, dean of the Collegiate
Church of Saint Michael in Lucca, translated the exegetical work of Augustin Calmet on the Bible.41
A well-respected professor at the University of Naples, Prospero Dell’Aquila turned a rather minor
33
C. Sigonio, De republica Hebraeorum (Bologna: Rossi, 1582); L. Modena, Historia de’ riti hebraici (Paris: 1637; and
Venezia: Calleoni, 1638).
34
A. Graham-Dixon, Caravaggio: A Life Sacred and Profane (New York: Norton, 2011); M. D. Garrard, Artemisia
Gentileschi: The Image of the Female Hero in Italian Baroque Art (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989).
35
G. Ballino, La vita di Mose (Venezia: Bevilacqua, 1560); A. Ferentilli, La creatione del mondo (Venezia: Gabriel Giolito Di
Ferrari, 1570); P. F. Zini, Il ritratto del vero et perfetto gentilhuomo (Venezia: Rampazetto, 1575).
36
F. Baldelli, Flavio Giuseppe: Dell’Antichità de’ Giudei (Venezia: Gio. et Gio. Paolo Gioliti de’ Ferrari, 1580); and F.
Baldelli, Flavio Giuseppe: Della guerra dei Giudei, Contra Apione, Dell’imperio della ragione (Venezia: Gio. et Gio. Paolo
Gioliti de’ Ferrari, 1581); see S. Castelli, “Josephus in Renaissance Italy,” in A Companion to Josephus, ed. H. H. Chapman
and Z. Rodgers (Chichester: Wiley, 2016), 402–13.
37
C. Baronio, Annales ecclesiastici, 12 vols. (Roma: Typographia Vaticana, 1588–1607).
38
A. Bosio, Roma sotterranea (Roma: Facciotti, 1632).
39
G. Bartolocci and C. G. Imbonati, Biblioteca magna rabbinica, 4 vols. (Roma: Sacrae Congregationis de Propaganda Fide,
1675–93).
40
A. Calmet, La storia dell’Antico e Nuovo Testamento, trans. S. Canturani (Venezia: Pezzana, 1725); C. Fleury, Costumi
degl’Israeliti, e de’ cristiani, trans. S. Canturani (Venezia: Pezzana, 1728).
41
A. Calmet, Il tesoro delle antichità sacre e profane, 7 vols., trans. L.G. Ponsampieri (Lucca: Sebastiano Domenico Cappuri,
1729–42; 2nd ed., 6 vols., Verona: Dionisio Ramanzini; and Venezia: Francesco Pitteri, 1741–50).
product of French scholarship by Pierre Barral into the most popular Bible dictionary in Italy; for
almost one century, the work would remained unrivaled, being reprinted several times throughout
Italy.42
The French connection helped Italian scholars overcome the gap that for almost two centuries
had kept them isolated from the international debate. Thanks to Agostini, Ponsampieri, and
Dell’Aquila, a new generation of Enlightenment scholars emerged in Italy in the second half of
the eighteenth century. Among them were Alessio Simmaco Mazzocchi, Antonio Martini, and
Francesco Angiolini.
Mazzocchi, as many other Italian scholars educated in the seventeenth century, had made a
name for himself safely in the field of Christian archaeology,43 but his acquaintance with Prospero
Dell’Aquila in Capua and Naples led him to the study of the Bible. Two years after the appearance
of Dell’Aquila’s dictionary he completed the first volume of a comprehensive critical commentary
of Scriptures, something that no Italian scholar had accomplished since the sixteenth century.44
In the same years the Tuscan Antonio Martini began the project of translating the entire Bible
from the Latin into Italian, the first time after Nicolò Malermi in 1471. First, he translated the New
Testament and then with the help of a Florentine rabbi he approached the Old Testament. While
following the texts of the Vulgate, in the notes he discussed at length the variants with the original
Greek and Hebrew texts. For his massive display of erudition Martini gained universal acclaim
and was appointed archbishop of Florence.45 His translation was approved by Pope Pious VI and
remained the official Catholic Italian version of the Bible until 1971.46
Francesco Angiolini was a Jesuit priest. A precocious polyglot, he traveled extensively in Europe
and composed poems and hymns in various languages. He translated into Italian works of ancient
authors written in Greek. Among them was the entire corpus of Flavius Josephus, which in 1779–80
he published in Verona in four volumes with notes, two centuries after the translation by Francesco
Baldelli.47
The eighteenth century was also a significant age for Jewish studies. Two Italian Jewish emigrants
became ambassadors of Italian scholarship in the world. David Nieto in 1702 moved from Venice
and Livorno to lead the Sephardic community of London,48 and Judah Monis settled in the English
Colonies in North America to become the first college instructor of Hebrew language at Harvard in
1722.49 In his monumental Thesaurus antiquitatum sacrarum (1744–69), Christian Hebraist Biagio
Ugolini relentlessly accumulated all the texts he could find relating to Judaism.50
42
P. Barral, Dizionario portatile della Bibbia, 4 vols., trans. P. Dell’Aquila (Napoli: Benedetto Gessari, 1758–60).
43
G. Ceserani, “The Antiquary Alessio Simmaco Mazzocchi: Oriental Origins and the Rediscovery of Magna Graecia in
Eighteenth-Century Naples,” Journal for the History of Collections 19.2 (2007): 249–59.
44
A. S. Mazzocchi, Spicilegium Biblicum, 3 vols. (Napoli: Stamperia Reale, 1762–78); see A. Perconte Licatese, Alessio
Simmaco Mazzocchi (S. Maria C.V.: Edizioni Spartaco, 2001).
45
P. D. Giovannoni, Fra trono e cattedra di Pietro: Antonio Martini arcivescovo di Firenze nella Toscana di Pietro Leopoldo,
1781–1790 (Florence: Pagnini, 2010).
46
A. Martini, La sacra Bibbia (Torino: Stamperia Reale, 1769–71).
47
F. Angiolini, Delle opere di Giuseppe Flavio, 4 vols. (Verona: Eredi di Marco Moroni, 1779–80).
48
D. Nieto, Matteh Dan; or, Kuzari Heleq Sheni (London: Ilive, 1714).
49
J. Monis, A Grammar of the Hebrew Tongue (Boston: Jonas Green, 1735).
50
B. Ugolini, Thesaurus antiquitatum sacrarum, 33 vols. (Venezia: Herthz, 1744–69).
The richness of the Italian Enlightenment is also apparent in the arts, where Apostolo Zeno, Pietro
Metastasio, and Pietro Chiari were among the most illustrious librettists of biblical oratorios in Europe,
and Francesca Manzoni Giusti and Alfonso Varano composed celebrated dramas on Second Temple
Jewish history.51
Italy’s greatest opportunity, however, came in the field of Enochic studies.52 It started with the
posthumous publication in 1703 of Archiuorum Veteris Testamenti, a massive collection of canonical
and noncanonical materials attributed to biblical figures of the Old Testament, by the Neapolitan
Jesuit Scipione Sgambati.53 Johann Albert Fabricius acknowledged Sgambati’s work as one of the major
sources of inspiration for his Codex pseudepigraphicus Veteris Testamenti (1713).54 Among the materials
collected by Sgambati were the Greek fragments of the book of Enoch, edited by Scaliger in 1606.55
In 1710 the Bishop of Bisceglie Pompeo Sarnelli authored the first commentary on the surviving
portions of the book of the Watchers.56 Bisceglie in Apulia was the ancient Vigiliae of Roman foundation.
As the bishop of the Vigilantes (=Watchers) Sarnelli took special pride in writing a commentary on
those angels who bore the same name as the people under his pastoral care. Sarnelli took a quite liberal
and sympathetic approach. His goal was to show that the book conformed to, and confirmed, the
orthodox Catholic doctrine. He staunchly defended the “authenticity” of Enoch’s prophecies from
any misunderstanding, which he attributed to heretics, Jews, and Muslims, never to the book itself.
The interest in the recovery of the book of Enoch was as strong in Italy as in the rest of Europe.
Since the mid-sixteenth century it was well known that the book of Enoch was preserved in Ethiopia
but any attempt to recover it had failed, until James Bruce’s momentous trip to Ethiopia in 1769–
73. In his official reports Bruce would always claim to have brought back from Ethiopia only three
copies of the book of Enoch, now preserved in Paris and Oxford.57 However, after returning to
France and before his coming back to England, Bruce spent several months in Italy,58 went to Rome
in December 1773, and as confirmed by the correspondence between Pietro and Alessandro Verri,59
donated a “fourth” copy of 1 Enoch to the pope.60 The manuscript was entrusted to the care of the
library of Leonardo Antonelli; the orientalist Agostino Antonio Giorgi examined it immediately
and confirmed in a letter to Antonelli that it was the same book from which the fragments of
Syncellus had been extracted.
For a while it seemed that Italy could regain its status among the most advanced European
nations and have a new beginning after the Renaissance. The turbulent events of the Napoleonic
51
F. M. Giusti, L’Ester (Verona: Tumermani, 1733); A. Varano, Giovanni di Giscala, tiranno del tempio di Gerusalemme
(Venezia: Valvasense, 1754).
52
G. Boccaccini, “Earliest Commentaries on 1 Enoch before Laurence: Pompeo Sarnelli (1710) and Daniele Manin (1820),”
in Rediscovering Enoch? The Ancient Jewish Past from the 15th to 19th Century, ed. A. Hessayon, A. Yoshiko Reed, and
G. Boccaccini (Boston: Academic Studies Press, forthcoming).
53
S. Sgambati, Archivorum veteris testamenti (Napoli: Michele Luigi Muzio, 1703).
54
J. A. Fabricius, Codes pseudepigraphus Veteris Testamenti (Hamburg: Liebezeit, 1713).
55
J. J. Scaliger, Theusaurus temporum (Leiden: Thomas Basson, 1606; 2nd ed., Amsterdam: Joannis Janssen, 1658).
56
P. Sarnelli, Annotazioni sopra il libro degli Egregori del s. profeta Henoch (Venezia: Antonio Bortoli, 1710).
57
J. Bruce, Travels to Discover the Source of the Nile, 1768–73, 5 vols. (London: Robinsons, 1790).
58
A. Murray, Account of the Life and Writings of James Bruce, of Kinnaird, Esq. F.R.S. (Edinburgh: George Ramsay, 1808).
59
E. Greppi and A. Giulini, eds., Carteggio di Pietro e Alessandro Verri. Vol.6: gennaio 1773 – giugno 1774 (Milano: Casa
Editrice L.F. Cogliati, 1928).
60
G. Boccaccini, “James Bruce’s ‘Fourth’ Manuscript: Solving the Mystery of the Provenance of the Roman Enoch
Manuscript (Vat. et. 71),” JSP 27 (2018): 237–63.
age and of the Restoration blocked the development of the Italian Catholic scholarship. In 1820
a decree by Pope Pious VII once again prohibited all Italian translations of the Bible, including
the Martini Bible. The Enoch ms. was never translated and languished forgotten in the Antonelli
library.61
4. THE ITALIAN “RISORGIMENTO”

All biblical scholars of the Italian Enlightenment were priests or members of religious orders.
But times were changing. The Italian “Risorgimento” was not only the movement that led to the
political unification of Italy as one nation but also marked the struggle for the emancipation of
Italian society and the laity from ecclesiastical control.
It began with the arts, where events from the Second Temple Period and the cry of oppressed
Jews were freely used by authors and patriots like Gioachino Rossini, Silvio Pellico, and Giuseppe
Verdi to support the political struggle for Italian independence.62
A new kind of scholar began to emerge, figures like Daniele Manin, who, before becoming one
of the leaders of the Italian Risorgimento, at the age of sixteen in 1820 produced a commentary
on the Greek fragments of the Book of Watchers.63 The proud scion of the Jewish-Venetian family
of conversi, he declared his submission to the Church and dedicated his book to his teacher, a
priest, but boldly claimed that his knowledge came from his father’s teachings, showing a spirit of
independence that would have been inconceivable in previous generations.
With Aurelio Bianchi-Giovini, by far the most brilliant and non-conformist Italian biblical
scholar of the nineteenth century, any residual formal submission to the Church disappeared. His
1844 introduction to Second Temple Judaism was a groundbreaking work for its strictly historical
approach, the usage of all available sources, the emphasis on religious diversity, and the inclusion of
Jesus and Christian origins.64 It was one of the first books by an European scholar not only to enter
in conversation with the work of Jewish scholars, such as Isaak Markus Jost and Peter Beer, but also
to solicit, and host as a thirty-page appendix, the response by the leading Italian Jewish scholar of
his time, Samuel David Luzzatto, who in 1830–1 had taught a pioneering course on Second Temple
Judaism at the Collegio Rabbinico di Padova.65 Equally innovative was Bianchi-Giovini’s 1853
treatise on New Testament criticism and the search for the historical Jesus.66
Bianchi-Giovini’s books were banned by the Catholic Church, but this did not prevent their
circulation in the new Italy. The ultimate victory of the revolution and the birth of Italy as a unified
61
The manuscript was eventually purchased by Angelo Mai for the Vatican Library in 1825 and its presence disclosed in
1831. It was too late for having any significant impact in Enochic studies, since Laurence had already published the English
translation of the Oxford manuscript in 1821 and other manuscripts had in the meantime reached Europe from Ethiopia.
See Boccaccini, “James Bruce’s ‘Fourth’ Manuscript.”
62
G. Rossini, Ciro in Babilonia (1812); S. Pellico, Esther of Engaddi (1821); G. Verdi, Nabucco (1842); see P. Stefani, ed.,
Dalla Bibbia al Nabucco (Brescia: Morcelliana, 2014), and F. Piperno, La Bibbia all’opera: drammi sacri in Italia dal tardo
Settecento al Nabucco (Rome: Neoclassica, 2018).
63
D. Manin, Degli Egregori (Venezia: Francesco Andreola, 1820).
64
A. Bianchi-Giovini, Storia degli Ebrei e delle loro sette e dottrine religiose durante il secondo tempio (Milano: Pirotta, 1844).
65
The twenty-one Lezioni di storia giudaica were published by Luzzatto in 1852 as the second volume of his Il giudaismo
illustrato nella sua teorica, nella sua storia e nella sua letteratura (Padua: Bianchi, 1852).
66
A. Bianchi-Giovini, Critica degli Evangeli (Zürich: C. Fuesslin, 1853).
and independent nation in 1861 created a new climate of freedom. The new liberal constitution
recognized the separation between Church and State and made all religions equal before the Law.
For the first time in Italian history, Jews, Protestants, and liberal Catholics occupied important
government positions in the administration of the new Kingdom.
The beginning of a new era in Italy is symbolically marked by the translation of the works of
David Friedrich Strauss and Ernest Renan in 1863.67 The Church had lost his monopoly over the
press and the educational system. Jewish scholars (Giuseppe Rafaele Levi, Elia Benamozegh, Davide
Castelli)68 and university professors (Alessandro Chiappelli, Baldassare Labanca)69 introduced
into Italy the principles of the European Liberal School that promoted a rationalistic approach to
Scriptures.
The Catholic hierarchy felt under siege and the best Catholic scholars of the nineteenth century,
Angelo Mai and Antonio Maria Ceriani, were philologists who worked as librarians and collectors
of manuscripts. But not even the Vatican could escape the new times if a layman like Giovanni
Battista de Rossi was appointed director of the Christian Museum and president of the Pontifical
Academy of Archaeology, and began the modern study of the Roman catacombs.70
Soon, the French Modernist movement penetrated Italy and made its official appearance on
the Italian cultural scene with the journals Studi Religiosi (Florence, 1901–7) and Rivista storico-
critica delle scienze religiose (Rome, 1905–10).71 In a 1919 report the American Journal of Theology
concluded that all conditions were now in place for the birth and development also in Italy of “a
school of religions that could emulate the section of religious sciences of the famous Ecole des
Hautes-Etudes de Paris.”72 In fact, all the ingredients for a successful mix were present: the laity
(Adolfo Omodeo, Luigi Salvatorelli, Raimondo Bacchisio Motzo, Panfilo Gentile, Piero Martinetti),
the Protestants (Piero Chiminelli, Giovanni Luzzi), the “orthodox” biblical scholars (Leone Tondelli,
Giuseppe Ricciotti), the Jews (Felice and Arnoldo Momigliano, Aldo Lattes, Umberto Cassuto,
Israel Zolli), and the “modernists” (Giuseppe Bonaccorsi, Ernesto Buonaiuti, Salvatore Minocchi).
Even the arts contributed with the popularity of Lorenzo Perosi’s oratorios and the success of the
movie Christus (1916) directed by Giulio Antamoro.73
Among the most original accomplishments of this generation were works on the New Testament
and the historical Jesus by Ernesto Buonaiuti, Adolfo Omodeo, and Salvatore Minocchi;74 studies on
67
D. F. Strauss, La vita di Gesù; o, Esame critico della sua storia, 2 vols. (Milano: F. Sanvito, 1863–5); E. Renan, La vita di
Gesù (Milano: Daelli, 1863).
68
G. R. Levi, Parabole, leggende e pensieri: raccolti dal talmudici dei primi cinque secoli dell’e.v. (Firenze: Le Monnier,
1861); E. Benamozegh, Storia degli esseni (Firenze: Le Monnier, 1865); D. Castelli, Ammaestramenti del Vecchio e del
Nuovo Testamento, Raccolti e Tradotti (Firenze, G. Barbera, 1896).
69
A. Chiappelli, “Gesù Cristo e i suoi recenti biografi,” Nuova Antologia 32 (1891): 427–56, 689–719; and 33 (1892): 246–
61; B. Labanca, Gesù Cristo nella letteratura contemporanea straniera e italiana (Torino: Bocca, 1903).
70
G. B. de Rossi, La Roma sotterranea Cristiana, 3 vols. (Roma: Cromo-litografia pontificia, 1864–77).
71
M. Ranchetti, The Catholic Modernists: A Study of the Religious Reform Movement, 1864–1907, trans. Isabel Quigly
(London: Oxford University Press, 1967).
72
L. H. Jordan, “The Study of the History of Religions in the Italian Universities,” American Journal of Theology 23
(1919): 41–60; cf. W. F. Badè, “Italian Modernism, Social and Religious,” HTR 4 (1911): 147–74.
73
G. Boccaccini, “Gesù ebreo e cristiano: sviluppi e prospettive di ricerca sul Gesù storico in Italia, dall’Ottocento a oggi
(with an appendix of works available in translation),” Henoch 29.1 (2007): 105–54.
74
E. Buonaiuti, Saggi di filologia e storia del Nuovo Testamento (Roma: Ferrari, 1910); E. Buonaiuti, Gesù il Cristo
(Roma: Formiggini, 1926); A. Omodeo, Gesù e le origini del cristianesimo (Messina: Principato, 1913); S. Minocchi, Il
Panteon. Origini del cristianesimo (Firenze: Seeber, 1914).
Hellenistic Judaism by Raimondo Bacchisio Motzo and Arnoldo Momigliano;75 the translation of
the Bible into Italian by Giovanni Luzzi;76 the introduction to Second Temple Judaism by Giuseppe
Ricciotti along with his translation of Josephus;77 and the survey of post-biblical Jewish literature
by Umberto Cassuto.78 Although none of these works were made available in translation to the
international community,79 they are a testament to the high level of quality reached in those years
by the Italian scholarship and to its potential for future research.
The condemnation of Modernism by Pope Pius X in 1907 and, even more decisively, the rise
of Fascism in the 1920s, the Concordat of 1929, and the anti-Jewish racial laws in 1938 caused a
progressive and dramatic decline in freedom of research and put an end to this creative experience.
The common sentiment has changed; the most popular work of the 1920s was La storia di Cristo
by Giovanni Papini, an international bestseller that was translated in twenty-three languages but in
which Italy showed its most conservative face.80 One after another the most original voices were
silenced. Salvatore Minocchi and Ernesto Buonaiuti survived the excommunication in 1907 by
becoming professors in Italian universities but lost their positions as a consequence of the 1929
concordat between Fascist Italy and the Vatican, which reestablished Catholicism as the State
religion and marginalized Protestants and dissidents.81 Luigi Salvatorelli, Pietro Martinetti, and
Giorgio Della Vida were persecuted because of their militant anti-fascism. The last to give up were
Arnaldo Momigliano and Umberto Cassuto, who left Italy immediately after the 1938 racial laws, to
continue their careers in England and Israel, respectively. In the end only Ricciotti survived, capable
of producing significant works on Jesus and Paul still in the 1940s but at the cost of becoming more
and more apologetic in his approach.82 The generation of Modernism would have no heirs.
5. CONCLUSION
Since its rise in the mid-fifteenth century, Italian biblical scholarship has experienced a dramatic
series of ups and downs, reaching its heights during the Renaissance and the Enlightenment, and in
the aftermath of the Risorgimento. Following the devasting experience of Fascism, the Holocaust,
and the Second World War, it took several decades to see a new beginning and blossoming of an
Italian school. In the 1960s the Vatican II Council laid the foundations for a renewed interest in
historical research, fostered a new climate of freedom and ecumenical dialogue, and inspired the
international success of Pier Paolo Pasolini’s The Gospel according to Matthew (1964). The study of
75
R. B. Motzo, La condizione giuridica dei giudei di Alessandria sotto i Lagida e i Romani (Torino: Bocca, 1913); R. B.
Motzo, Aristea (Torino: Bocca, 1915); R. B. Motzo, Saggi di storia e letteratura giudeo-ellenistica (Firenze: Le Monnier,
1925); A. Momigliano, Prime linee di storia della tradizione maccabaica (Roma: Foro italiano, 1930).
76
G. Luzzi, La Bibbia (Firenze: Fiedes et Amor, 1921–30).
77
G. Ricciotti, Storia d’Israele, 2 vols. (Torino: SEI, 1932); and Flavio Giuseppe tradotto e commentato (Torino: SEI, 1937).
78
U. Cassuto, Storia della letteratura ebraica postbiblica (Firenze: Israel, 1938).
79
The only exception is the lengthy survey of the research on the historical Jesus published in English by L. Salvatorelli,
“From Locke to Reitzenstein: The Historical Investigation of the Origins of Christianity,” HTR 22 (1929): 263–369.
80
G. Papini, La storia di Cristo (Firenze: Vallecchi, 1921).
81
V. Vinay, Ernesto Buonaiuti e l’Italia religiosa del suo tempo (Torre Pellice: Claudiana, 1956); B. Greco, Ketzer oder
Prophet?: Evangelium und Kirche bei dem Modernisten Ernesto Buonaiuti, 1881–1946 (Zürich: Benziger, 1979); C. D.
Nelson and W. N. Pittenger, eds., Pilgrim of Rome: An Introduction to the Life and Work of Ernesto Buonaiuti (Welwyn: James
Nisbet, 1969).
82
G. Ricciotti, Vita di Gesù Cristo (Milano: Rizzoli, 1941), and G. Ricciotti, Paolo apostolo (Roma: Coletti, 1946).
Second Temple Judaism and Christian Origins in Italy was revived in the 1980s and the 1990s by
scholars such as Giuseppe Barbaglio, Rinaldo Fabris, Giovanni Garbini, Giorgio Jossa, Clara Kraus
Reggiani, Bruno Maggioni, Carlo Maria Martini, Luigi Moraldi, Romano Penna, Mauro Pesce,
Paolo Sacchi, Giuseppe Segalla, Lea Sestieri, and Jan Alberto Soggin. The translation of works
by Soggin, Garbini, Sacchi, Penna, and Pesce in particular highly contributed to the international
reputation of Italian scholarship.83
The future is difficult to predict. Italian biblical scholarship has consolidated institutions, such
as the Italian Biblical Association and the Italian Association for the Study of Judaism, and research
tools, from the journals Henoch to the Rivista Biblica and Materia giudaica. Italian scholars now active
in the field are no longer insulated but fully engaged and integrated in international ventures (Luca
Arcari, Francesca Calabi, Piero Capelli, Giovanni Ibba, Corrado Martone, Luca Mazzinghi).84 Some
of them teach outside of Italy, including Giovanni Bazzana, Gabriele Boccaccini, Sandra Gambetti,
Edmondo Lupieri, and Pierluigi Piovanelli. Yet Italy has not solved all its structural problems: the
situation of studies in religion in Italian universities and seminaries remains precarious and makes
it difficult for younger researchers and scholars to find academic positions.85 What will follow the
generation of the Vatican Council is yet to be seen.
6. BIBLIOGRAPHY
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Boccaccini, G. “Earliest Commentaries on 1 Enoch before Laurence: Pompeo Sarnelli (1710) and Daniele
Manin (1820).” In Rediscovering Enoch? The Ancient Jewish Past from the 15th to 19th Century. Edited by
A. Hessayon, A, Yoshiko Reed, and G. Boccaccini. Boston: Academic Studies Press, forthcoming.
Boccaccini, G. “Enochic Traditions.” Pages 383–416 in A Guide to Early Jewish Texts and Traditions in
Christian Transmission. Edited by A. Kulik. New York: Oxford University Press, 2019.
Boccaccini, G. “Gesù ebreo e cristiano: sviluppi e prospettive di ricerca sul Gesù storico in Italia, dall’Ottocento
a oggi (with an appendix of works available in translation).” Henoch 29.1 (2007): 105–54.
Boccaccini, G. “James Bruce’s ‘Fourth’ Manuscript: Solving the Mystery of the Provenance of the Roman
Enoch Manuscript (Vat. et. 71).” JSP 27 (2018): 237–63.
Boccaccini, G. “Jewish Apocalyptic Tradition: The Contribution of Italian Scholarship.” Pages 33–50 in
Mysteries and Revelations: Apocalyptic Studies since the Uppsala Colloquium. Edited by J. J. Collins and J.
H. Charlesworth. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1991.
Boccaccini, G. “Some Brief Notes on the Early History of the Deuterocanonici.” Pages 19–28 in Canonicity,
Setting, Wisdom in the Deuterocanonicals. Edited by G. G. Xeravits, X. Szabó, and J. Zsengellér.
83
J. A. Soggin, Introduction to the Old Testament (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1976) and J. A. Soggin, A History of Israel
(London: SCM, 1984); G. Garbini, History & Ideology in Ancient Judaism (London: SCM, 1988) and G. Garbini, Myth
and History in the Bible (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003); P. Sacchi, The History of the Second Temple Period
(Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994); and P. Sacchi, Jewish Apocalyptic and Its History (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic
Press, 1996); R. Penna, Paul the Apostle (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1996); and A. Destro and M. Pesce, Encounters with
Jesus (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2012).
84
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Revelations: Apocalyptic Studies since the Uppsala Colloquium ed. J. J. Collins and J. H. Charlesworth (Sheffield: Sheffield
Academic Press, 1991), 33–50; F. Calabi, ed., Italian Studies on Philo of Alexandria (Leiden: Brill, 2003); C. Martone,
“Qumran Research in Italy,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls in Scholarly Perspective: A History of Research, ed. D. Dimant, STDJ
99 (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 601–10.
85
M. Perani, “Gli studi giudaici negli ambienti accademici e scientifici italiani dal Novecento ad oggi,” Materia giudaica 10.1
(2005): 9–32.
Calabi, F., ed. Italian Studies on Philo of Alexandria. Leiden: Brill, 2003.
Castelli, S. “Josephus in Renaissance Italy.” Page 402–13 in A Companion to Josephus. Edited by H. H.
Chapman and Z. Rodgers. Chichester: Wiley, 2016.
Celenza, C. “Lorenzo Valla’s Radical Philology: The Preface to the Annotations to the New Testament in
Context.” Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 42 (2012): 365–94.
Celenza, C. “Renaissance Humanism and the New Testament: Lorenzo Valla’s Annotations to the Vulgata.”
Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies 24 (1994): 33–52.
Gaeta, F. Lorenzo Valla: filologia e storia nell’umanesimo italiano. Naples: Istituto storico italiano per gli studi
storici in Napoli, 1955.
Garavaglia, G. “Traduzioni bibliche a stampa fra Quattrocento e Settecento.” Mélanges de l’école française de
Rome 105.2 (1993): 857–62.
Garofalo, S. “Gli umanisti italiani del secolo XV e la Bibbia.” Biblica 27 (1946): 338–75.
Garofalo, S. “Gli studi biblici in Italia da Leone XIII a Pio XII.” Pages 107–26 in Problemi di storia della
Chiesa. Dal Vaticano I al Vaticano II. Bologna: Dehoniane, 1988.
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INDEX ON AUTHORS
Abegg, Martin G. 412, 417, 447, 453 Babota, Vasile 378, 381
Abegg, Martin G., Jr. 401 Bach, Alice 270, 276
Abel, Félix-Marie 219, 235, 237 Badalanova-Geller, Florentina 344, 349
Adamopoulo, T. A. 297, 307 Badè, W. F. 511, 513
Adler, Ada 292 Beattie, D. R. G. 18, 27
Adler, William A. 461, 464, 466 Bailey, Jon Nelson 67, 80
Aitken, E. B. 487, 499 Bailey, Kenneth E. 77, 80
Aland, B. 487, 499 Bala’awi, Fadi 226, 240
Aland, Kurt 87, 99 Balch, D. A. 303, 307
Albrecht, Felix 367, 378, 381 Baldi, Donato 219, 233, 237
Albright, William F. 108, 124, 235, 237 Baldwin, Edward C. 471, 472, 480
Alexander, Kimberly Ervin 94, 95, 104 Balentine, Samuel E. 368, 381
Alexander, Loveday C. A. 259, 267, 274, 275 Bammel, Ernst 119, 126, 229, 237
Alexander, Philip S. 267, 275, 292, 294, 411, 417, Bampfylde, G. 131, 139
461, 466 Barclay, Joseph M. G. 234, 237, 317, 319, 320
Al-Ghazawi, Raed 227, 240 Bar-Nathan, Rachel 224, 239
Allen, Don Cameron 461, 463, 464 Barrera, Julio T. 387, 400
Allen, O. Wesley, Jr. 261, 275 Barreto, Eric D. 259, 275
Alliata, E. 24, 27 Barrett, C. K. 119, 126, 127, 128, 130, 136, 139, 143,
Allison, Dale C. 114, 125, 301, 307 145, 146, 151, 152, 258, 265, 268, 275
Allison, Dale C., Jr. 238 Bartchy, S. Scott 57, 65
al-Masri, Eyad 226, 240 Barth, Markus 32, 39, 40
Almond, P.C. 50, 53 Barthélemy, Dominique 442
Al-Shawabkeh, Yahya 226, 240 Barthes, Roland 269, 276
Amar, Joseph P. 460, 465 Bartlett, J. R. 319, 320
Andersen, F. I. 343, 349 Baruch, Yuval 235, 237, 239
Anderson, G. 35, 41 Bauckham, R. 299, 307, 311, 312, 313, 320, 321,
Anzouli, Lena 294 483, 498
Aptowitzer, Victor 3, 7, 8, 9, 13, 340, 349 Baudissin, W. 44, 45, 53
Arlotto, Anthony 47, 48, 51, 53 Bauer, Bruno 484, 485, 498
Armin, Hans von 293 Bauer, W. 187, 197
Assefa, Daniel 323, 338 Baumgartner, Walter 178, 184
Athanassakis, Apostolos N. 292 Bautch, Richard J. 363, 381
Atkinson, Kenneth 233, 237, 358, 361, 366, 367, 370, Bautz, F. W. 485, 498
376, 378, 379, 381 Beasley-Murray, George R. 128, 135, 139
Attridge, Harold W. 30, 33, 39, 40, 144, Bechard, Dean Philip 259, 265, 269, 276
152 Becker, A. H. 314, 321
Aubin, Paul 67, 80 Becker, Ulrich 87, 99
Auerbach, Erich 34, 40 Beebe, H. Keith 264, 276
Auffarth, Christoph 464, 466 Begg, Christopher T. 201, 214
Avery-Peck, J. 364, 382 Bekken, Per Jarle 206, 214
Avi-Yonah, Michael 221, 235, 237 Bekker, Immanuel 283, 286, 293
516 Index on Authors
Belkin, S. 295, 307 Bovon, François 57, 65, 96, 98, 99

Ben-Dov, J. 411, 419 Boyarin, Daniel 282, 289, 294, 314, 321
Bentley, Gerald E., Jr. 457, 464 Bradford, M. Gerald 470, 481
Bentley, Richard 458, 464 Bradshaw, Jeffrey M. 470, 480
Ben-Zaken, A. 342, 249 Brague, Rémi 24, 27
Berger, K. 318, 321 Brand, M. T. 43, 53
Bergmeier, Roland 129, 131, 139 Braude, William G. 37, 38, 40
Bergren, T. A. 292, 294 Bravmann, M. M. 47, 48, 53
Bergsma, John S. 449, 453 Brawley, Robert L. 132, 139
Bergson, Leif 292 Bridges, Carl B. 94, 99
Berlin, Adele 72, 74, 78, 80 Brocke, M. 339, 351
Bermejo-Rubio, Fernando 229, 237 Brockelmann, C. 46, 53
Bernabò, M. 348, 349 Brown, Allan R. 457, 465
Bernard, J. H. 133, 134, 136, 137 Brown, Colin 172, 224, 238
Bertrand, Daniel 8, 9, 13 Brown, Raymond E. 56, 58, 59, 60, 65, 131, 134,
Best, O. F. 342, 349 135, 136, 139, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147, 149, 150,
Betram, Georg 207, 214 151, 152, 159, 172
Betz, Hans Dieter 111, 124, 171, 172 Brown, Scott G. 225, 238
Betz, Otto 233, 237 Brownlee, William H. 444, 451, 453
Beutler, Johannes 131, 139, 231, 238 Bruce, F. F. 39, 41, 86, 93, 98, 99, 179, 183, 265,
Bienert, W. A. 342, 351 273, 276
Bieringer, Reimund 143, 146, 147, 152 Bryan, David 323, 338
Billerbeck, P. 159, 176 Buber, Solomon 32, 41
Birdsall, J. N. 44, 54 Bull, Robert Jehu 263, 266, 276
Birnbaum, Ellen 202, 205, 214 Bulley, Alan D. 31, 36, 41
Black, David Alan 94, 99 Bultmann, Rudolf 135, 139, 145, 148, 149, 152,
Black, Matthew 207, 216, 292, 294, 308, 461, 465 486, 498
Blair, Christine Eaton 98, 99 Burke, T. 483, 498, 499
Blakely, Jeffrey 263, 276 Burkes, S. 296, 307
Blakemore, Steven 457, 465 Burnet, R. 20, 27
Blau, J. 44, 53 Butler, George F. 460, 465
Bloch, A. P. 299, 307 Butler, Marilyn 466
Blum, E. 303, 307 Bynum, William Randolph 128, 139, 140
Boccaccini, Gabriele xiv, 18, 27, 504, 505, 509, 510, Byron, Brian F. 225, 238
511, 513 Byron, John 3, 7, 8, 13
Bock, Darrell L. xiii, 122, 126, 255, 256
Bockmann, J. 360, 362 Cadbury, H. J. 170, 172
Bockmuehl, Markus 232, 238 Calabi, Francesca 513, 514
Boda, Mark J. 363, 364, 365, 367, 368, 381, 382 Calabro, David M. xiv, 471, 472, 478, 480
Boer, Esther A. de 143, 148, 152 Calvin, John 117, 124
Bogaert, P.-M. 16, 20, 27 Campbell, L. 48, 53
Bohn, R. 345, 347, 349, 350 Campenhausen, Hans von 191, 194, 195,
Bokedal, Tomas 115, 124, 190, 197 197
Bolkenstein, H. 317, 321 Castelli, S. 507, 514
Bons, Eberhard 366, 367, 369, 370, 371, 381, Cavallo, Guglielmo 422, 431
382, 383 Cazelles, H. 19, 27
Borgen, Peder 206, 207, 214 Celenza, C. 514
Bosman, Phillip R. 209, 214 Ceriani, A. M. 353, 354, 362
Böttrich, Christfried xiv, 339, 340, 341, 342, 343, Chadwick, Henry 190, 197
344, 348, 349, 350 Chapman, H. H. 507, 514
Bourquin, Yvan 269, 270, 278 Charles, Robert H. 311, 321, 358, 362, 471, 480,
Bousset, W. 315, 321 485, 498
Index on Authors 517
Charlesworth, James H. xii, 8, 14, 29, 40, 41, 43, 55, D’Angelo, Mary Rose 36, 41, 145, 152
67, 80, 83, 84, 104, 107, 112, 119, 120, 121, 122, Dahle, Ryan 470, 480
124, 125, 126, 149, 150, 152, 201, 207, 214, 217, Dahmen, U. 404, 408, 409, 413, 417
218, 219, 233, 238, 239, 281, 291, 292, 294, 311, Daise, Michael A. xiii
312, 313, 316, 320, 321, 322, 340, 343, 349, 350, Daly-Denton, Margaret 131, 140
363, 381, 406, 411, 412, 417, 418, 445, 453, 470, Danby, Herbert 231, 238
473, 480, 481, 501, 502, 513 Dapaah, Daniel S. 218, 238
Chatelion Counet, Patrick 299, 307 Darbishire, Helen 458, 462, 463, 465
Chatraw, Joshua D. 67, 80 Daube, D. 235, 237
Chesnutt, Randall 324, 338 Dauer, Anton 129, 140
Chilton, Bruce D. 218, 238, 360, 362 Davies, Paul R. 31, 39, 41
Chilton, D. 31, 39, 41 Davies, William D. 114, 119, 125, 126, 235, 237
Claussen, Carsten 224, 240 Davila, James, R. 285, 294, 311, 312, 314, 315, 316,
Clem, E. 11 319, 321, 428, 431, 483, 498
Clemen, Carl 353, 355, 356, 357, 358, 362 Davis, Kipp 421, 424, 431
Clements, Ronald E. 29, 41 de Pury, Albert 16, 27
Clements, Ruth A. 35, 36, 39, 40, 41, 411, 418 Deane, W. J. 357, 362
Clute, John 455, 465 Deines, Roland 110, 125
Cockerill, Gareth L. 39, 41 del Río Sánchez, F. 25, 28
Coggins, R. J. 165, 172 Delcor, M. 410, 411, 418, 419
Cohen, Martin S. 291, 294 Derrenbacker, R. A., Jr. 251, 256
Cohen, Naomi G. 206, 208, 214, 215 Dewey, Joanna 104
Cohick, Lynn H. 123, 125 Dibley, Genevive 323, 338
Cohn, Leopold 202, 215 Dieu, Parole de 269, 276, 278
Cohn, Leopolde 293 Diez-Macho, A. 18, 27
Coleridge, Mark 59, 65 Dilella, Alexander A. 30, 42
Collins, John J. xiv, 296, 299, 301, 307, 315, 316, Dillon, John 211, 215
318, 319, 320, 321, 411, 417, 444, 445, 453, 454, Dimant, D. 43, 50, 53
502, 513 DiTommaso, L. 312, 321, 342, 344, 349
Colson, Frederick H. 202, 206, 215 Dobbeler, Axel von 262, 276
Comfort, Philip 87, 88, 92, 97, 99 Docherty, Susan E. 39, 41
Conybeare, F. C. 130, 140 Dochhorn, Jan xiv, 7, 13, 353, 354, 355, 356,
Conzelmann, Hans 267, 271, 273, 276 360, 362
Cornell, Collin 51 Dodd, C. H. 129, 136, 140, 145, 152
Cornford, Francis M. 212, 215 Donaldson, Terence L. 260, 266, 276, 277
Cosby, Michael 30, 41 Donner, Herbert 221, 235, 238
Costa, C. D. N. 250, 256 Douglas, Michael C. 444, 453
Cothenet, É . 21, 27 Downey, Glanville 260, 276
Coutts, Alison V. P. 470, 481 Downing, F. G. 248, 256
Cracium, Adriana 457, 465 Drawnel, Henryk 325, 338, 461, 463, 465
Craig, C. A. 17, 27 Drews, Arthur xiv, 485, 486, 487, 488, 490, 491, 492,
Cramer, J. A. 293 493, 494, 495, 496, 497, 498
Crawford, Sidney 30, 41 Driver, G. R. 45, 46, 49, 51, 53
Crenshaw, L. 299, 307 Drummond, James 207, 215
Cronbach, A. 299, 307 Dungan, D. L. 194, 197
Crook, Zeba A. 67, 80 Dunkmann, K. 485, 498
Cross, Frank Moore 392, 401, 428, 431, 442 Dunn, James D. G. 258, 261, 265, 268, 269, 273,
Cross, Frank Moore, Jr. 44, 45, 53 274, 276
Crossan, John Dominic 238
Croy, N. Clayton 86, 99 E. Phillips, Thomas 257, 278
Crump, David 137, 140 Eberhardt, C. 374, 382
Cullman, Oscar 229, 238 Ebstein, W. 490, 493, 498
Eck, Werner 235, 238 Fiebig, Paul xiv, 486, 487, 488, 489, 490, 494, 495,
Edelstein, Ludwig 293 496, 497, 498, 499
Edersheim, A. 164, 172 Filson, Floyd V. 114, 125
Edwards, Douglas R. 122, 126 Fisk, Bruce N. 36, 37, 41
Efron, J. 315, 321 Fitzgerald, Michael A. 263, 278
Ego, B. 418 Fitzmyer, Joseph A. 58, 59, 65, 77, 78, 80, 114, 125,
Ehrenkrook, Jason von 201, 210, 215 267, 276, 317, 321
Ehrman, Bart D. 87, 99, 133, 140, 194, 197 Flessen, Bonnie J. 260, 276
Einsidler, B. 295, 307 Flint, Peter W. 17, 27, 388, 391, 401, 406, 407,
Eisen, Ute E. 270, 276 411, 417
Eisenbaum, Pamela 30, 33, 39, 41 Flusser, David 109, 125
Eldon, Benjamin 455, 466 Foakes-Jackson, F. J. 165, 176
Elgvin, T. 40, 421, 431 Foerster, Gideon 235, 238, 264, 276
Elledge, Casey D. xii, 35, 37, 38, 41, 209, 215 Forsyth, Neil 457, 460, 465
Ellens, Harold 201, 215 Fox, J. 46, 53
Elwolde, John F. 393, 400 France, R. T. 109, 125
Embry, Bradley J. 363, 366, 371, 372, 373, 376, 377, Franco, Kevin M. 94, 99
379, 380, 382 Freed, Edwin D. 128, 129, 131, 140
Emerton, J. A. 44, 45, 46, 49, 53 Freedman, David Noel 44, 45, 53, 65, 263, 264, 265,
Engberg-Pedersen, Troels 210, 216 266, 276, 278
Engelmann, M. 312, 321 Freedman, H. 35, 38, 41
Epstein, Isidore 293 Frey, Jörg 138, 140, 146, 148, 150, 151, 152, 224,
Erbse, Hartmut 292 240, 312, 321, 417
Erffa, H.-M. von 347, 348, 350 Freyne, Séan 122, 123, 125
Erho, Ted M. 330, 338, 457, 465 Friedland, K. 345, 350
Ericson, Edward E., Jr. 460, 464, 465 Friedlander, Gerald 38, 41
Eshel, Esther 325, 338, 411, 417 Friedrich, G. 172
Eshel, Ya’acov 235, 237 Friesen, Steven J. 122, 125
Essick, Robert N. 457, 464 Fritsch, Charles T. 263, 264, 276, 278
Estes, Joel D. 111, 125 Fritzsche, O. F. 355, 357, 362
Evans, Craig A. xiv, 3, 13, 29, 32, 41, 42, 110, 125, Fuchs, Esther 270, 276
128, 129, 130, 139, 140, 218, 224, 238, 359, 360, Funk, Robert W. 113, 121, 125
362, 412, 417
Evans, Jane DeRose 263, 276 Gaeta, F. 514
Eynikel, E. 362 Gafni, Isaiah M. 231, 239
Gaisford, Thomas 293
Fabien, P. Philippe 262, 276 Gamble, H. Y. 191, 197
Fabry, Heinz-Josef 411, 417, 428, 432 Gammie, J. G. 299, 307
Fahl, D. 344, 350 Garavaglia, G. 514
Fahl, S. 344, 350 García Martínez, Florentino 32, 34, 41, 295, 307,
Falk, Daniel K. 363, 364, 365, 367, 368, 378, 381, 412, 417, 424, 431, 432
382, 418 Garland, David E. 135, 137, 140
Farrer, Austin M. 120, 125 Garofalo, S. 514
Fassberg, Steven E. 392, 400 Gaventa, Beverly Roberts 62, 65, 67, 80, 86, 104, 272,
Faulring, Scott H. 470, 472, 480 274, 276, 277
Faure, Alexander 129, 140 Gee, John 469, 481
Feldman, Louis H. 17, 27, 36, 40, 41, 311, 312, Geiger, A. 341, 350
319, 321 Geljon, Albert 205, 215
Feldman, Paula R. 458, 465 Gerber, Christine 318, 321
Ferguson, E. 307 Gersht, Rivka 266, 277
Ferreira, Johan Ferreira xiii Gese, H. 50, 53
Festinger, Leon 445, 453 Geyser, Albert S. 233, 238
Gibb, H. A. R. 341, 350 Hahnemann, G. M. 191, 197

Gibellini, P. 514 Häkkinen, Sakari 113, 122, 125
Gibson, Shimon xiii, 219, 220, 221, 223, 224, 227, Hamarneh, Basema 219, 238
229, 230, 231, 234, 236, 238, 240 Hamilton, G. J. 49, 53
Gignac, A. 20, 27 Hankoff, L. D. 295, 307
Gilchrest, Eric J. 119, 125 Hansen, G. C. 354, 362
Ginsburg, Christian D. 387, 400 Hanson, Anthony Tyrrell 129, 130, 140
Giovannoni, P. D. 514 Hare, D. R. A. 340, 350
Gitlbauer, M. 324, 338 Harkins, Angela Kim 444, 453
Giversen, Søren 206, 214 Harmon, A. M. 494, 499
Glessmer, U. 411, 419 Harnack, A. von 191, 197
Godwin, William 456, 457, 458, 465, 466 Harrelson, W. 299, 307
Goff, Matthew J. 214, 215, 461, 465, 466 Harstine, Stan 149, 152
Goguel, M. 485, 499 Hartenstein, Friedhelm 408, 417, 418
Gold, J. 360, 362 Hartog, Pieter B. 428, 432
Goldberg, Jonathan 463, 465 Häser, Jutta 227, 238
Goldrup, Lawrence P. 470, 481 Havrelock, Rachel 230, 231, 238
Goodacre, Mark 120, 125 Hays, C. B. 45, 53
Goodenough, Erwin R. 201, 207, 215 Hayward, R. 15, 27
Goodman, M. 15, 27, 319, 321 Hearon, Holly E. 84, 99
Goppelt, Leonard 186, 193, 197 Heger, P. 316, 321
Görg, M. 303, 308 Heil, John Paul 88, 99
Goulder, Michael 120, 125 Heinemann, Isaac 206, 215
Govaars, Marylinda 263, 266, 277 Hemer, Colin J. 258, 272, 277
Grabbe, Lester L. 205, 207, 215, 444, 453 Hempel, Charlotte 329, 338, 412, 418
Granerod, G. 17, 27 Henderson, G. 347, 350
Grant, John 455, 465 Henderson, J. 248, 256
Gray, P. 299, 307 Hengel, Martin 257, 261, 265, 267, 268, 269, 270,
Greco, B. 512, 514 272, 277
Green, Arnold H. 470, 481 Henrichs, Albert 293
Green, Elizabeth E. 88, 99 Hense, Otto 294
Green, Joel B. 55, 57, 59, 62, 65, 76, 80 Herbert, Edward 412, 417
Greenfield, Jonas C. 325, 338 Hernitscheck, E. 362
Grégoire, François 207, 215 Herrmann, W. 50, 53
Grelot, P. 19, 27 Hessayon, Ariel 457, 465, 509, 513
Griggs, C. Wilfred 471, 481 Hieke, T. 408, 417
Gröber, C. 485, 499 Hilhorst, Anthony 417, 432, 433, 442
Grotius, Hugo 181, 183 Himmelfarb, M. 313, 316, 319, 321
Gruenwald, Ithamar 281, 294 Hock, Hans Heinrich 47, 48, 49, 50, 53
Grund, A. 408, 418 Hoenig, Sidney B. 449, 453
Grypeou, Emmanouela 3, 14 Hoffmeier, J. K. 255, 256
Guérin, Victor 235, 238 Höfner, M. 50, 53
Guetta, A. 514 Hogg, J. E. 50, 53
Guthrie, George H. 39, 41 Hohlfelder, Robert L. 260, 264, 265, 277
Holladay, Carl R. 67, 79, 80, 257, 259, 261, 277
Haacker, Klaus 258, 277 Holladay, William Lee 69, 80
Haak, Robert D. 444, 453 Holman, Susan R. 122, 125
Haan, A. den. 502, 514 Holmes, M. W. 188, 197
Hacker, J. R. 514 Holm-Nielsen, Svend 370, 382
Haenchen, Ernst 88, 99, 149, 152, 159, 171, 172, Holton, David 293
258, 273, 277 Holum, Kenneth G. 260, 263, 264, 266, 277,
Hahn, J. 487, 499 278, 279
Hoover, Roy W. 113, 121, 125 Karrer, M. 374, 382

Horgan, Maurya P. 392, 400 Kattinger, D. 345, 350
Horn, F. W. 306, 307 Kawashima, Robert S. 453
Horner, George William 116, 125 Keddie, G. Anthony 364, 382
Horsley, Richard A. 122, 125, 209, 215, 381, 382 Kee, Howard C. 122, 125, 293, 299, 307
Hoskyns, Edwyn Clement 131, 135, 137, 139 Keene, Nicholas 457, 465
Hossfeld, F.-L. 408, 417 Keener, Craig S. 257, 258, 261, 265, 269, 271,
Houghton, H. A. G. 115, 125 272, 277
Hughes, H. Maldwyn 299, 307 Keith, Chris 84, 85, 88, 104
Huizenga, Leroy A. 31, 35, 39, 41 Kelhoffer, James A. 86, 104
Huppenbauer, H. W. 43, 53 Kenner, C. 246, 256
Hurd, J. 31, 42 Kenworthy, A. W. 296, 307
Hutton, Jeremy M. 221, 225, 238 Khan, G. 48, 54
Kidd, Ian G. 293
Inwood, Brad 209, 215 Kim, Young Hye 449, 453
Kister, Menahem 31, 42
Jackson, Kent P. 470, 472, 480 Kittel, G. 172
Jacobs, F. 491, 493, 499 Klassen, W. 32, 40
Jacobson, Howard 36, 37, 41 Klauck, Hans-Josef 131, 140, 261, 277, 303, 307
Jacobus, Helen R. xiv Klawans, Jonathan 230, 239, 366, 382
James, Montague R. 370, 382 Kleer, M. 409, 410, 411, 418
Janda, R. D. 52, 53 Klinzing, G. 413, 418
Janowski, B. 408, 417, 418 Kloppenborg, John S. 258, 260, 261, 265, 266,
Jastrow, Marcus 50, 178, 183, 492, 499 272, 277
Jaubert, Annie 207, 215 Knibb, Michael A. 330, 334, 338, 445, 453
Jebb, John 77, 80 Knox, John 257, 261, 277
Jeffers, James S. 119, 125 Knust, Jennifer Wright 87, 104
Jenson, R. W. 194, 197 Koehler, Ludwig 178, 184
Jeremias, G. 418 Koester, Helmut 165, 172, 187, 197, 209, 215
Jeremias, J. 340, 350 Kollmann, B. 487, 499
Jervell, Jacob 258, 273, 277 Kooten, George H. van 15, 27, 211, 216
Johns, Loren L. xiii Körting, C. 413, 418
Johnson, Lee A. 260, 263, 277 Koskenniemi, Erkki 213, 215, 487, 499
Johnson, Luke Timothy 64, 65, 159, 163, 165, 172, Kosmala, H. 43, 53
186, 188, 193, 194, 197, 268, 277 Kossen, H. B. 233, 238
Johnson, M. D. 8, 14, 472, 473, 475, 481 Kraeling, Carl H. 217, 239
Johnson, William Allen 422, 426, 432 Kraemer, R. S. 313, 322
Jones, C. P. 487, 488, 489, 490, 491, 493, 499 Kraft, Robert A. 311, 313, 322, 363, 381
Jonge, Marinus de 299, 307, 313, 321, 322, 340, 350, Kramers, J. H. 341, 350
471, 472, 473, 475, 478, 481 Kramnick, Isaac 456, 465
Joosten, Jan. 367, 374, 380, 382 Kraus, Wolfgang 129, 140
Jordan, L. H. 511, 514 Kreitzer, Larry J. 87, 88, 99, 104
Joseph, B. D. 52, 53 Krentz, Edgar 266, 277
Joseph, M. 340, 350 Kreuzer, S. 374, 382
Joüon, P. 50, 53 Kritseli, Giota 294
Joynes, Christine E. 224, 238 Kroll, Wilhelm 293
Judge, Edwin 123, 125 Krüger, A. 408, 418
Juel, Donald 86, 104 Kruger, M. J. 190, 197
Jülicher, A. 486, 487, 499 Kubiś, Adam 128, 140
Kugel, James L. 34, 42, 72, 74, 81, 311, 312, 321
Kanellopoulos, Chrysanthos. H. 219, 239 Kügler, Joachim 207, 215
Kapstein, Israel J. 37, 38, 40 Kugler, Robert 327, 338
Kulik, Alexander 312, 321, 344, 350, 504, 513 Lowe, Malcolm 181, 184
Kusio, M. 46, 53 Lübbe, H. 485, 499
Kuskein, David P. 85, 104 Lublinski, Samuel 491, 499
Kutscher, Edward Y. 387, 394, 399, 400, 401 Luciani, D. 20, 27
Lüdemann, Gerd 273, 278
Laato, Antti 445, 453 Lust, J. 207, 216
Labahn, Michael 131, 140 Luz, Ulrich 111, 126
Lagerlöf, E. 345, 350
Lake, K. 87, 104, 165, 170, 172, 176 Maag, V. 51, 53
Lamb, John B. 458, 465 Mach, M. 43, 53, 418
Lambrecht, Jan 20, 21, 27 Macholz, Chr. 303, 307
Lampe, Geoffrey W. H. 292, 293 Mack, Burton L. 207, 216
Landau, B. 483, 499 Maclean, J. K. B. 487, 499
Lange, Armin 329, 338, 403, 404, 406, 409, 410, 411, Madsen, Truman G. 470, 480
412, 413, 417, 418, 424, 431 Magary, D. R. 255, 256
Langlois, Michael 421, 431 Magen, Yitzhak 24, 27, 235, 239
Laperrousaz, E.-M. 354, 362 Magness, J. Lee 86, 104
Larrimore, M. J. 301, 307 Magness, Jodi 233, 237, 451, 453
Lass, Egon H. E. 234, 238 Mahmod, Abdelaziz 226, 240
Laughlin, John C. H. 123, 125 Malamat, A. 303, 307
Laurence, Richard 457, 458, 465 Malina, Bruce J. 258, 268, 278
Lavee, M. 15, 27 Mallen, Peter 56, 65
Lee, Dorothy A. 147, 148, 152 Maltese, Roberta Blender 260, 277
Lehmann, Clayton Miles 263, 278 Mann, C. S. 108, 124
Lenski, Gerhard E. 122, 125 Manns, F. 24, 27
Léon-Dufour, Xavier 269, 276, 278 Marcus, Joel 360, 362
Leslau, W. 50, 53 Marguerat, Daniel 258, 259, 261, 269, 270, 272, 273,
Leuenberger, M. 409, 410, 411, 413, 418 278, 298, 307
Levenson, J. D. 23, 27, 45, 53 Marin, Louis 269, 278
Levey, Irving M. 265, 266, 278 Marquardt, H. Michael 470, 481
Levine, Amy-Jill 144, 152, 218, 224, 238 Marshall, I. Howard 109, 126
Levine, Lee I. 263, 264, 265, 266, 268, 269, 278 Martin, Ralph P. 147, 152
Levison, John R. xii, 7, 14 Martin-Achard, Robert 23
Lewis, J. J. 299, 307 Martone, Corrado xiv, 43, 53, 433, 442, 513, 514
Lewis, Rafael Y. 234, 238 Mason, Steve 36, 41, 269, 278
Lewis, T. J. 44, 45, 46, 51, 53 Maston, T. B. 299, 307
Lichtenberger, Hermann xi, xiv, 224, 233, 239, 329, Matera, Frank J. 146, 152, 306, 308
338, 411, 412, 417, 418 Mathews, Edward G., Jr. 460, 465
Licona, Michael R. 242, 252, 253, 255, 256, 359, 362 Matthews, Christopher R. 262, 267, 276, 278
Lieberman, Saul 281, 283, 289, 294 Matthews, P. H. 47, 54
Lieu, Judith M. 3, 6, 14 Matthews, Robert J. 470, 472, 480
Lifshitz, Baruch 264, 278 Mazich, Edward 258, 278
Lightfoot, R. H. 127, 139 McCaffrey, U. P. 131, 140
Lim, Timothy H. 195, 196, 197, 444, 445, 449, McCarter, P. K. 49, 54
453, 454 McCarthy, Carmel 114, 126
Lincicum, David 203, 213, 215, 367, 382 McColley, Grant 463, 465
Lindars, Barnabas 129, 130, 133, 135, 139, 140 McCown, Chester Charlton 225, 239
Lippke, F. 408, 418 McCullough, C. Thomas 122, 126
Lohmeyer, Ernst 112, 126 McDonald, Lee Martin xiii, 84, 89, 104, 188, 191,
Lohr, Joel N. 3, 7, 13, 14 193, 197
Long, A. A. 209, 215 McDonnell, Kilian 57, 65
Longenecker, Bruce W. 122, 123, 126 McMillan, Earl 88, 104
McNamara, M. 18, 27 Myers, Alicia D. 144, 146, 153

McVey, Kathleen 465 Myers, Victoria 457, 465
Meeks, W. A. 307
Meer, F. van der 345, 350 Najman, H. 23, 27
Meier, John P. 110, 118, 119, 121, 126, 224, 239 Nave, Guy D. 67, 68, 69, 72, 80, 81
Meineke, Augustus 294 Nebe, G. Wilhelm 424, 432
Meiser, Martin 8, 14, 374, 382 Nelson, C. D. 512, 514
Méndez-Moratalla, Fernando 67, 81 Nelson, Richard 55, 56, 57, 60, 61, 65
Menken, Maarten J. J. 128, 136, 140 Nesselrath, Heinz–Günther 293
Merguet, K. H. 299, 308 Netzer, Ehud 224, 239, 263, 278
Merk, Otto 8, 14 Neusner, Jacob 6, 14, 184, 315, 322, 364, 382
Merkel, F. 339, 351 Newman, Judith H. 23, 27, 363, 382
Metzger, Bruce M. 84, 85, 86, 87, 92, 93, 98, 104, Newsom, Carol Ann 444, 453
133, 135, 140, 191, 197 Nibley, Hugh W. 470, 471, 481
Meyer, Marvin W. 478, 481 Nickelsburg, George W. E. 4, 14, 83, 104, 300, 301,
Meyers, Eric M. 122, 126 308, 325, 328, 329, 338, 358, 362, 363, 364, 365,
Michaels, J. Ramsey 147, 152 367, 381, 382, 460, 463, 465
Michel, Otto 31, 34, 39, 42 Niebuhr, K.-W. 317, 322
Michie, Donald 104 Niederhofer, V. 362
Migne, J.-P 293 Niehoff, Maren 202, 216
Milgrom, Jacob 368, 373, 378, 382 Niese, B. 356, 357, 359, 362
Milik, J. T. 32, 40, 324, 338, 442, 461, 463, 465 Nihan C. 16,27
Millar, Fergus 207, 216, 299, 308 Nineham, Dennis Eric 120, 125
Millard, M. 408, 418 Nir, Rivka 224, 231, 239, 313, 322
Miller, John xiii, 59, 60, 61, 65 Nock, Arthur Darby 67, 81
Miller, Patrick D. 86, 104 Nolland, John 109, 110, 111, 126
Mimouni, Simon C. xii, 15, 18, 19, 21, 23, 26, 27, 28 Norelli, E. 313, 322
Minov, Sergey 344, 350 Noth, Martin 345, 350, 355, 362
Miralles Maciá, Lorena 207, 216 Novakovic, Lidija xiii, 150, 153
Mittmann, U. 418 Novenson, Matthew V. 444, 453
Miura, Yuzuru 57, 61, 65 Nwachukwu, Oliver O. 120, 126
Mkhjian, Rustom 219, 239
Moberley, R. W. L. 196, 197 O’Day, Gail 88, 104
Moessner, David P. 67, 81 O’Rourke, John J. 129, 140
Moloney, Francis 145, 152 O’Shaughnessy, David 457, 465
Monfasani, J. 502, 514 Oates, Joyce Carol 458, 460, 465
Moo, Douglas J. 130, 140 Odeberg, Hugo 282, 293
Moore, G. F. 315, 322 Oegema, Gerbern S. xiii, xvi, 207, 216, 298, 303, 305,
Mor, Menahem 235, 239 307, 313, 320, 411, 412, 417
Morano, Enrico 461, 465, 466 Ohana, Moïse 18, 19, 28
Moreland, J. P. 255, 256 Oleson, John P. 263, 278
Morris, Leon 109, 126, 136, 139 Olson, Daniel C. 323, 338
Morrow, William 364, 365, 382 Olyan, S. 40
Mosley, A. W. 243, 244, 245, 246, 256 Oppenheimer, Aharon 231, 239, 358, 362
Moss, Candida R. 150, 152 Orgel, Stephen 463, 465
Mrázek, Jiri 291, 294 Orlov, Andrei 281, 282, 294
Muchnik, M. 48, 54 Orrieux, C. 15, 22, 28
Munck, Johannes 273, 278 Osiander, C. N. 494, 499
Muraoka, Takamitsu 389, 393, 400, 401 Ost, H. 347, 350
Murdock, James 114, 126 Osten-Sacken, P. von der 43, 54
Murphy-O’Connor, Jerome 179, 184, 218, 221, 222, Ott, N. H. 43, 54
224, 225, 231, 234, 235, 239 Oyen, G., van 20, 27
Painter, R. Jackson. 263, 266, 268, 269, 278 Pouchelle, Patrick xiv, 366, 367, 369, 370, 371, 373,
Palmer, Spencer J. 470, 481 376, 377, 378, 379, 381, 382
Panayotov, A. 311, 321, 483, 498 Preisendanz, Karl 287, 293
Papandreou, D. 342, 351 Prigent, Pierre 370, 382
Parker, Pierson 225, 239 Protaseva, T. N. 348, 350
Parry, Donald W. 389, 391, 401, 442, 472, Pryor, John W. 229, 239
480 Puech, É. 418, 433, 442
Parry, E. xiv
Parsons, Mikeal C. 258, 278 Qimron, Elisha 391, 392, 401
Parsons, Peter J. 438, 432 Quesnel, M. 20, 28
Pate, C. Marvin 365, 382
Patrich, Joseph 263, 264, 277, 278 Raban, Avner 263, 277, 278
Paul, Sh. M. 411, 418 Rabin, Ira 330, 338
Pauly, A. 494, 499 Ranchetti, M. 511, 514
Peace, Richard V. 67, 81 Rathinam, Selva, SJ 135, 140
Pearce, Donald 457, 464 Reed, Annette Yoshiko 17, 28, 312, 314, 321, 322,
Pedersen, Johannes 44, 45, 54 460, 461, 465, 509, 513
Pelikan, J. 193, 197 Reed, Jonathan L. 122, 126
Perani, M. 513, 514 Reeth, J. M. F., van 17, 28
Perconte Licatese, A. 508, 514 Reeves, John C. 443, 453
Perdue, L. G. 300, 308 Regev, Eyal 231, 239
Perles, Felix 315, 322 Reich, Ronny 230, 239
Perry, T. A. 296, 308 Reichmann, Siegfried von 293
Person, Raymond F. Jr. 84, 104 Reinhardt, Eduard G. 263, 277
Pervo, Richard I. 258, 259, 261, 262, 266, 267, 268, Reinhartz, Adele 145, 153
270, 273, 278 Reitzenstein, R. 489, 494, 495, 496, 499
Pesch, Rudolf 260, 265, 273, 278 Rendtorff, R. 303, 307
Petersen, David L. 3, 13 Reymond, Eric D. 389, 391, 401
Peterson, Daniel C. 470, 481 Rhea, Brian 119, 124, 126, 484, 498
Peterson, David G. 269, 279 Rhoads, David 86, 104
Pfann, Claire xiii Richards, K. 36, 41
Pfann, Stephen J. xiii , 233, 239, 461, 466 Richardson, Matthew 456, 465
Pfremmer De Long, Kindalee xiii Richardson, Peter 31, 42, 269, 279
Philip, Mark 457, 465 Ricks, Stephen D. 472, 480
Philpot, E. 348, 350 Riecken, Henry W. 445, 453
Piccirillo, Michele 219, 226, 227, 239 Riesner, Rainer 225, 239
Pilch, John J. 258, 268, 278 Rietz, H. W. L. 418
Piovanelli, Perluigi 504, 513, 514 Ringe, Sharon 57, 65
Piperno, F. 510, 514 Ringel, Joseph 264, 279
Pittenger, W. N. 512, 514 Ritschelio, Friderico 293
Pitts, A. 197 Ritter, Carl 235, 239
Pleše, Zlatko 133, 140 Rius-Camps, Josep 88, 104
Plisch, Uwe-Karsten 77, 81 Rizzi, G. 514
Ploeg, Johannes P.M, van der 412, 417, 418 Roberts, Adam 455, 466
Poirier, P.-H. 23, 27 Roberts, B. H. 480, 481
Pokorny, P. 484, 498 Robin, Christian J. 25, 28
Pope, Marvin H. 48, 49, 50, 54 Robinson, J. M. 187, 197
Popović, M. 295, 307 Robinson, Stephen E. 471, 473, 481
Porath, Yosef 263, 279 Rodgers, Z. 507, 514
Porter, F. C. 315, 322 Rogers, Brett M. 455, 456, 466
Porter, S. E. 191, 197 Rollston, Christopher A. 218, 240
Porter, Stanley E. 119, 126, 146, 153 Roloff, Jürgen 260, 265, 273, 279
Römer, T. 16, 27 Schnabel, E. J. 299, 308

Römheld, K. F. D. 411, 417, 418 Schnackenburg, Rudolf 135, 136, 137, 139, 146, 147,
Roncalli, A. 219, 238 149, 153
Ronning, C. 487, 499 Schneider, Gerhard 258, 279
Rooke, Deborah W. 87, 88, 99, 104 Schneiders, Sandra M. 143, 145, 146, 150, 153
Roosval, Johnny 347, 348, 350, 351 Schock, Peter A. 457, 466
Root, Bradley W. 122, 123, 126 Scholem, Gershom G. 281, 294
Rosenberg, R. 52, 54 Scholtissek, Klaus 131, 140
Roskovec, Jan 291, 294 Schreiber, S. 411, 419
Rothfuchs, Wilhelm 129, 130, 140 Schreiner, S. 342, 351
Rothschild, Clare K. 191, 198 Schubart, Wilhelm 422, 432
Rotman, Marco 218, 224, 225, 234, 239 Schubert, Kurt 112, 126
Rowe, C. Kavin 58, 65 Schuchard, Bruce G. 134, 140, 141
Rowley, Harold Henry 231, 239 Schuller, Eileen M. 444, 453
Rubin, U. 24, 28 Schürer, Emil 207, 216, 264, 265, 270, 279, 299, 208,
Rudolph, K. 50, 53 356, 362
Rudolph, W. 341, 351 Schwab, G. 494, 499
Rüger, H. P. 341, 351, 486, 499 Schwartz, D. A. 411, 418
Ruiten, J. T. A. G. M., van 15, 27, 432 Schwartz, Daniel R. 261, 279
Runia, David T. 205, 213, 215, 216 Schwartz, Edward 293
Ruschmann, Susanne 145, 153 Schwemer, A.-M. 340, 351
Rushton, Sharon 458, 466 Scobie, Charles H. H. 217, 239
Russell, David S. 471, 481 Scolfield, William 458, 466
Rusten, Jeffry S. 294 Scott, J. Martin C. 87, 88, 104
Ryle, Herbert E. 370, 382 Scott, James M. 257, 259, 279, 365, 383
Scott-Kilvert, Diana 458, 465
Šachmatov, A. A. 344, 351 Segal, Alan F. 31, 36, 39, 42, 289, 294
Sagarin, J. L. 46, 54 Segal, Michael 34, 42
Saley, Richard J. 442 Segovia, C. A. 25, 28
Samet, M. 231, 239 Seland, Torrey 213, 216
Sanders, James A. 89, 104, 409, 418, 483, 499 Seybold, K. 419
Sandmel, S. 17, 23, 28 Shamir, Orit 221, 239
Santos Otero, A. de 342, 351 Shanks, H. 233, 237
Satran, D. 35, 41, 313, 322 Sharrock, Roger 457, 466
Savignac, Jean de 207, 216 Shear, A. 514
Sawyer, John F. A. 37, 42 Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft 456, 457, 458, 459, 460,
Schaberg, Jane 57, 65, 270, 276 464, 466
Schachter, Stanley 445, 453 Sherwood, Andrew N. 263, 278
Schäfer, Peter xi, 282, 293, 294 Sidebotham, Steven E. 263, 278
Schäferdiek, K. 342, 351 Silverstein, A. 26, 28
Schaff, Philip 124, 126 Simkovich, M. Z. 304, 308
Scham, Sandra 234, 239 Simon, M. 35, 41
Schechter, S. 443, 447, 453 Sion, Ofer 219, 225, 226, 239
Schiffman, Lawrence H. 43, 54, 231, 239, 311, 312, Skehan, Patrick W. 30, 42, 410, 419
321, 411, 418 Skinner, Matthew L. 263, 267, 274, 279
Schiffner, K. 342, 350 Sleeman, Matthew 257, 267, 279
Schille, Gottfried 265, 279 Slingerland, H. D. 299, 308
Schlatter, Adolf 112, 126 Small, Christopher 458, 466
Schleritt, Frank 144, 153 Smend, Friedrich 129, 141
Schmidt, B. 52, 54 Smit, Peter-Ben 137, 141
Schmidt, L. 317, 322 Smith, D. Moody 129, 130, 141, 146, 147, 150, 153
Schmithals, Walter 271, 279 Smith, Jonathan Z. 294
Snyder, G. 32, 40 Swetnam, James 31, 36, 37, 39, 42

Snyder, Julie A. 155, 176 Swithinbank, Hannah 123, 125
Sokoloff, M. 50 Sysling, Harry 37, 42
Sommer, M. 353, 362 Szabó, X. 505, 513
Sonzogni, V. 219, 238
Sophocles, Evangelinus A. 292, 294 Tabor, James D. xiv, 218, 229, 233, 234, 238, 240,
Soyars, Jonathan E. xiii 444, 448, 453
Sparks, H. F. D. 311, 312, 322 Tafel, G. L. F. 494, 499
Spencer, F. Scott 262, 275, 279 Talbert, Charles H. 57, 65, 143, 146, 153
Sperling, S. David 44, 45, 46, 54 Talmage, James E. 469, 481
Spiegel, F. 496, 499 Talmon, S. 32, 42
Spiegel, Shalom 35, 37, 38, 42 Talmon, Shemaryahu 392, 401, 411, 419
Spilsbury, Paul 201, 214 Tannehill, Robert C. 274, 275, 279
Spini, G. 514 Tardieu, Michel 23, 24, 25, 28
Spinrad, Norman 455, 466 Tatum, W. Barnes 217, 240
Spiro, Marie 263, 266, 277 Taylor, Joan E. 218, 224, 229, 231, 233, 234, 235,
Sprinkle, Preston M. 366, 383 240, 258, 260, 261, 262, 263, 264, 268, 269, 270,
Sproston, Wendy E. 129, 141 271, 274, 279
Spurling, Helen 3, 14 Taylor, Justin 261, 265, 279
Staab, K. 485, 499 Tcherikover, V. 319, 322
Stableford, Brian 455, 456, 466 Teeter, David Andrew 428, 432
Stabler, Jennifer A. 263, 277 Thatcher, Tom 3, 14
Stamm, Johann 178, 184 Theobald, Michael 147, 153
Stanton, G. 297, 308 Thielman, F. 320, 322
Stanton, N. 320 Thomas, D. W. 44, 45, 46, 54
Steadman, John 463, 466 Thomas, John Christopher 94, 95, 104
Stefani, P. 514 Thomas, S. 43, 54
Stegemann, E. 303, 307 Thompson, Barry P. 129, 141
Stegemann, H. 404, 405, 411, 412, 417, 418, Thompson, J. A. 51, 54
419 Thompson, Richard P. 257, 278
Stendahl, Krister 112, 126 Thomson, R. W. 44, 54
Stenhouse, T. 44, 45, 46, 51, 54 Thuesen, Peter Johannes 90, 91, 92, 104
Stephanopoulos, Theodoros K. 294 Tigchelaar, Eibert J. C. 412, 417, 424, 429, 432,
Sterling, Gregory E. xiii, 67, 81, 202, 205, 206, 210, 433, 442
211, 213, 216, 317, 318, 322 Tiller, Patrick A. 323, 329, 338
Stern, Menahem 231, 239 Tobin, Thomas H. 203, 205, 207, 216
Steudel, A. 43, 44, 45, 54 Toorn, K., van der 50, 54
Stock, Klemens 56, 65 Tov, Emanuel xiv, 40, 43, 54, 388, 391, 400, 401, 411,
Stone, Michael E. 7, 14, 292, 294, 300, 308, 325, 419, 421, 422, 425, 426, 427, 428, 429, 432
338, 340, 351 Townsend, J. 32, 41
Strack, H. L. 159, 176 Trafton, Joseph 369, 373, 378, 383
Strauss, David Friedrich 484, 499 Trask, R. L. 47, 48, 54
Strawn, Brent A. xii, 48, 54 Trask, W. 34, 40
Strotmann, Angelika 131, 140 Traub, Gottfried 490, 492, 495, 497, 499
Stroumsa, Guy G. 26, 28, 281, 282, 290, 294, 297, Travers Herford, R. 299, 308
308, 320 Tromp, Johannes 8, 14, 313, 322, 340, 350, 353, 354,
Strugnell, J. 40 359, 362, 471, 472, 473, 474, 475, 481
Stuckenbruck, Loren T. xiv, 324, 325, 328, 329, 330, Trompf, G. W. 85, 104
331, 338, 457, 461, 464, 465, 466 Tsevat, M. 49, 54
Sukenik, E. L. 419 Tsitsiridis, Stavros 294
Sundberg, A. C., Jr. 191, 198 Tur-Sinai, N. H. 45, 54
Svahnström, G. 345, 350 Tuval, Michael 461, 466
Twelftree, Graham H. 50, 54, 218, 229, 240 Westermann, Claus 363, 383
Tyson, Joseph B. 77, 81 Whitaker, G. H. 202, 215
White, Aaron 110, 125
Ulrich, Eugene C. 399, 391, 401, 412, 419, 428, 431, White, L. Michael 261, 263, 266, 277, 280
433, 442 White, S. 40
Wiese, C. 315, 322
Van der Horst, P. W. 317, 322 Wilkins, M. J. 255, 256
VanderKam, James C. 4, 5, 14, 32, 40, 42, 43, 54, Wilkinson, John 221, 236, 240
325, 338, 411, 417, 418, 449, 454, 463, 465 Will, E. 15, 22, 28
Vann, Robert L. 260, 263, 266, 277, 278, 279 Williams, Arnold 463, 466
Verheyden, J. 305, 308 Willis, J. T. 299, 307
Vermes, Geza 31, 35, 36, 37, 39, 40, 42, 120, 126, Wilson, Benjamin R. 260, 266, 267, 280
207, 216, 299, 308, 446, 448, 454 Wilson, W. T. 317, 322
Vieweger, Dieter 227, 238 Windisch, Hans 30, 36, 42, 485, 499
Vinay, V. 512, 514 Wink, Walter 217, 240
Vodolazkin, E. G. 344, 350 Winninge, Mikael 370, 371, 383
Vogel, Manuel 205, 216, 313, 322 Wise, Michael Owen 444, 448, 451, 454
Vonder Bruegge, John M. 257, 279 Wißmann, H. 339, 351
Vorster, Willem S. 86, 104 Witherington III, Ben 95, 96, 105
Witherup, Ronald D. 67, 81
Wace, Henry 126 Witkamp, Leonard Theodoor 132, 141
Wacholder, B. Z. 410, 419 Wollstonecraft, Mary 456, 457, 466
Wachsmuth, Curtius 294 Woude, A. S. van der 412, 417, 432
Wagner, G. 21, 28 Wrede, W. 489, 499
Waheeb, Mohammad 219, 221, 222, 226, 227, 240 Wright, B. G. 318, 322
Wahlde, Urban C. von 132, 135, 136, 139 Wright, N. T. 37, 42
Walck, Leslie 122, 126 Wright, Robert B. 370, 383
Wall, Robert W. 94, 104 Würthwein, Ernst 387, 401
Wallace, Daniel B. 88, 105, 111, 126
Walton, Steve 123, 125 Xeravits, G. G. 297, 308, 505, 513
Warner, M. 16, 28
Webb, Robert L. 229, 232, 233, 240 Yadin, Yigael 421, 432
Webster, Brian 422, 432 Yli-Karjanmaa, Sami 201, 210, 211, 216
Weingreen, Jacob 387, 401
Weinreich, O. 490, 494, 495, 496, 499 Zager, W. 350
Weiser, Alfons 265, 268, 273, 280 Zarras, Konstantinos Th. xiii
Weiss, Johannes 261, 266, 280, 488, 489, 490, 492, Zeichmann, Christopher B. 264, 280
493, 495, 496, 499 Zenger, Erich 339, 351, 407, 408, 413, 417, 418, 419
Welten, P. 339, 351 Zerbe, G. M. 299, 308
Wendel, Carl 294 Zimmerli, W. 119, 126
Wendland, Paul 202, 215 Zimmermann, J. 411, 419
Wengst, K. 350 Zimmermann, R. 487, 499
Wenham, David 110, 125 Zolondek, M. V. 359, 362
Werline, Rodney A. 363, 364, 365, 367, 368, 379, Zsengellér, J. 297, 308, 505, 513
380, 381, 382, 383 Zurawski, J. M. 300, 308
Werman, Cana 325, 338, 449, 454 Zwemer, S. M. 85, 105
West, R. H. 463, 466 Zylstra, Sarah Eekhoff 94, 105
Westcott, B. F. 130, 139
INDEX ON PASSAGES
HB/MT (+ LXX) 15:2, 4–6 32

Gen 1 289 15:6 20, 32, 33, 34
1–5 7, 474 LXX 15:8 59
1:26–27 458, 459 18 347
1:26 291 18:1 22
2:7 210 21 32
3 339 21:9 32
3:9 475 21:12 29, 31, 32, 35, 37
3:14 11 21:33 23
3:15 6 22 22, 30, 33, 34,
3:19 339 36, 38, 39
3:22 291 22:1 31
4 3, 7, 13, 346, 347 LXX 22:2 35
4:2 10 22:3 40
4:8 4, 7, 8, 10, 341 22:4 38
4:9 9, 10 22:5 38
4:10 xii, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10, 22:9 38
11, 12, 13 22:3–10 33
4:10–11 11 22:11 38
4:11 4, 10 22:12 33
4:17 339 LXX 22:12 33
4:20–22 339 22:13 40
4:23 8 22:14 40
4:25 6 22:15–18 33
5 329 22:17 34, 178
5:24 286 22:17–18 32
6 329 22:18 180
6–9 328 23 340
6:1–4 12, 460 23:4 20
6:2 462 24:3 20
6:4 460, 464 LXX 25:23 11
6:6–7 69 LXX 26:28 56
6:6 329 35:19–20 340
9:4 4 37:3, 23 135
11:17 31, 291 37:34 476
11:19 31 38:24 340
12:5 23 41:7, 24 10
13:16 32 41:43 48
14 17 42:16 38
15:1 32 42:18 38
15:1–6 32 46:4 340
15:2–6 34 50:2–3 340
528 Index on Passages
50:10 476 15:33 374

50:26 340 16 367
16:21 368
Exod 2:11 169 16:30 375
3:14 292 17 170
4:18 169 17–26 304
4:20 40 17:10–14 171
4:22–23 286 18 170
4:31 38 18:5 366
6:9 370 18:6–18 171
12:10 128, 132, 133 19–20 318
12:19 19 19:4 373
12:46 128, 132, 133 19:17 169
13:17 70, 73 19:18 305
14:21 111 19:18–19 169
15:12 10 19:34 19
15:26 182 20:3, 9 374
16:9–12 370 20:14 340
17:3 131 21:5–8 374
17:8–13 490 21:6 373
19:16 38 21:9 340
20:16 169 21:10 135
20:22–23:19 205 21:16–23 374
23 205, 206 22:4 375
23:5 317 22:12 373
23:21 291 22:14 378
23:23–33 203 22:21–25 374
23:26 204, 206, 209, 210 23:9–14 374
23:28 204 25:8–12 449
24:1 38, 291 25:8 449
28:4 48 25:46 169
29:9 38 26 203, 205, 367, 368, 373
29:13 11 26:3–5 204
32:12, 14 69, 73 26:3–13 203, 205, 212
32:32 377 26:3 204, 205
34:7 375 26:6–8 205
34:29–35 290 26:6 204, 206
26:7–8 204
Lev 2:3 373 26:9 205
3:3 11 26:11 205
4 367 26:12 204
4:23 378 26:13 204
5:3 376 26:18, 23 371
5:5 368, 376, 377 26:28 371, 373
LXX 5:13 375 26:40–42 178, 368
5:18 378 26:40–45 203, 365
5:33 376 26:40 368
8:25 11
9:19 11 Num 5:7 368
11:42 11 5:21–22 11
12:8 375 6:5 48
13–14 375 8:7 48
Index on Passages 529
9:12 128, 132, 133 27:15, 24 375

9:14 19 28 205
10:32 375 28–30 367
14:18 375 28–32 367
14:33 450 28:1–2 204
16 12 28:1–2 205
16:30, 32, 34 10 28:1–14 xiii, 203, 205, 212
17:20, 25 370 28:2 202, 204
19:2 48 28:3–6 204
19:14 478 28:3–13 203
19:16 340 28:3 203, 204
19:20 374 28:4 11, 203, 204
20:3 169 28:5 203, 204
20:29 476 28:6 203, 204
21:4 370 28:7 204, 205
23:19 69 28:8–14 204
24 207, 447, 448 28:8 203, 204
24:4 207 28:11 204, 375
24:7 204, 207 28:12 203, 204, 205
24:17 207, 447 28:13 204
26:10 11 28:26 340, 374
28:41, 52 374
Deut 1:1–43 202 28:57 375
3:18 169 29:9 205
4 368, 372, 373 29:23 370
4:29–31 368 30 368, 373
4:44–26:19 202 30:1–3 367, 371
4:7 204, 206, 208 30:1–5 365
6:4 186 30:3 369
6:4–9 194, 305 30:4–5 204, 206
6:5–8 186 30:4 205
6:11 375 30:5 205
7:13 11, 204 30:9 375
7:15 206 30:11–14 204, 206, 208
7:20 204, 206 32 366
8:5 370, 373 32:11 282
8:14 375 32:36 69
11:6 11 34:8 476
11:13–14 204
13:7 375 Josh 2:7 224
17:15 169, 204 2:16 38
17:20 375 3–4 224
18:15 157, 158 4:19–24 224
18:18–19 447 7:25 340
20:12–14 206 24:20 203
21:22–23 340 LXX Josh 24:30 57
22 318
22:6 317 Judg 2:18 69
22:25 8 21:6, 15 70
24:14 169 LXX 2:8 57
26:11 375 LXX 6:12 56
27:1–28:68 202 LXX 6:19 8
7:24 224 5:8 437

13:5 11 5:9, 10 438
16:17 11, 48 6:5 438
6:6 439
Ruth 4:15 370 7 364, 365
LXX 7 56, 57
1 Sam 1–2 59 LXX 7:3 56
1:2–8 60 LXX 7:5 57
LXX 1:11 59 LXX 7:8 57, 62
1:19 38 LXX 7:9 62
1:20, 27–28 59 LXX 7:11 62
1:28 60 7:13 447
2:3 59 LXX 7:13 56
2:5 60 LXX 7:16 56, 62
3:4, 6, 8 159 LXX 7:19 57
LXX 3:9–10 57 LXX 7:20 57
3:15–18 328 7:23 439
6:7 48 LXX 7:25 57, 58
8:10–18 60 LXX 7:27–29 57
8:22 60 8:7 439
9:16 60 12:16 377, 440
10:1 60 13:21, 39 440
12:21 45 14:30 441
LXX 14:41 57 17:29 131
15:11 69, 73 21:10–14 340
15:29 69, 70, 71, 74 21:17 441
15:35 69 23:1–7 404, 408, 409
16 61 23:1 442
16:13 60 23:2 409
16:14–23 416 22:5 44
LXX 17:32, 34, 36 61 23:13–17 131
18:23 109 LXX 24:10 57
LXX 23:10–11 57, 61 24:16 69
LXX 25:39 57, 61
LXX 27:5 61 1 Kgs 2:5 6
28:14 340 LXX [MT 1 Sam] 2:5 364
2:31 6
2 Sam 2 433 6:31–35 478
2:5, 7 434 8 368, 371, 373, 279,
3:3 434 380
3:7 435 8:22 368
3:8 169, 435 LXX 8:25 57
4:1 436 8:29 371
LXX 3:17–18 61 8:31–32 369
LXX 3:18 57, 64 8:33–34 369
3:23 435 8:33–36 79
3:29 436 8:33 376
3:31 340 8:35–36, 37–43 369
3:33 436 8:44–45 369
4:1 436 8:44 371
4:2, 12 437 8:46–50 79
5 61 8:46–53 369
8:48 69 Neh 9:5–37 365

8:52 371 9:8 34
8:53 368
LXX 8:53 57 Esth 5:1 38
LXX 8:56 57
LXX 8:66 57 Job 1:21 11
11:5, 7 49 2:3 46, 51
LXX 11:13 57 5:23 206
11:33 49 10:8 51
14:11 340 15:30 111
31:29–30 9
2 Kgs 1:2 50 36:15 109
2:7–14 224 38:8 11
4:42–44 495 42:6 70, 72
5:10–14 230, 232 42:17a 361
LXX [MT 2 Sam] 7:12 11
LXX 8:19 57 Ps 1–3 407
9:30–37 340 2:1 404
LXX [MT 2 Sam] 12:12 375 3–41 408
LXX 18:12 57 5:12 370
18:29 399 6:4 370
19:21 393 6:5 372
19:26 390 7:2 372
19:27 394 9:7 365
19:28 397 9:11 370
19:31 393 9:29[10:8] 375
LXX [MT 2 Sam] 20:10 11 LXX 15 58
20:13 396 16[17]:12 375
16[17]:13 372
3 Kgs [MT 1 Kgs] 6:21 374 18:2 371
[MT 1 Kgs] 8 367 18:5 44
[MT 1 Kgs] 8:31 377 18[19]:8 370
[MT 1 Kgs] 8:32 372 LXX 21:19 127, 132, 134, 135, 136
[MT 1 Kgs] 17:21 370 21:10 51
[MT 1 Kgs] 21:9 375 21:24 372
22:2 134
1 Chr 12:6 49 22[23]:2 370
LXX 17:7, 26 57 22:16 131
21:15 69 22:18 128, 132, 133
22:19 127
2 Chr 6 368 23:4 44
6:24–27, 36–39 79 LXX 24:5 58
7:14 79 31[32] 379
16:14, 21:19 340 31[32]:5 377
24 13 LXX 33:4 58
24:20–21 13 34:6 109
33:13 182 LXX 34:9 58
34:21 128, 132, 133
Ezra 1:4 19 LXX 35:1 57
8:32 38 35:15 169
9:2 374 35:19 129
37:7–40 404
37:10 448 108 407

37:35 19 108–110 408
40:7 109 108:8–9 404
41:1 120 108[109]:14 377
41:10 129 LXX 109 58
42:2–3 131 LXX 109:4 69
45:1–2 404 110 17, 407
48:8 111 110:1 112
50[51] 367, 377, 379 110:4 69
50[51]:3, 4, 6, 9, 10, 17 377 LXX 110:9 58
50[51]:18–19 377 111 407
51–72 408 117 407
51 409 118 404
51:4 409 119 406
55:10 46 122 404
59:12 9 123:1 409
60:8–9 404 126:6 35
63:2 131 127:2–3, 3b, 5 404
63[64]:5 375 129:7–8 404
LXX 68:16 11 LXX 131 58
LXX 68:22 132 134 409
69:4 131 135:2 410
69:5 129 138–145 408
69:22 130, 131, 132, 133, 136, 140 409
137, 139 140:1 409
70:5 109 147:9 341
79:11 38 149:9 412
83:1 449 150:1–6 408
LXX 85:4 57 LXX 151 93, 404, 409
85:8 69
LXX 88:9 58 Prov 5:11 371
LXX 89:13 69, 73 14:24 376
90–150 407 LXX 24:22 129
90 407
LXX 90:4 282 Qoh 2:13 376
90:13 69, 73
91 404, 406, 407, 411, 414, Isa 1:15 6
415, 416 1:30 392
91:2 416 2–14 470
91:3–8 416 2:3 393
91:5, 10, 11–12 416 2:4 396
91:13 414, 416 3:6 391
95:6 38 3:7 391
99:9 38 3:22 397
101–103 408 3:24 389
101:5 375 4:3 393
102:20 38 4:4 111, 390, 393
102:21 38 5:3 395
LXX 105:45 69 5:5 398
LXX 106:35 374 5:7 398
106:45 69 5:18 398
107:23 496 5:24 394
5:27 391 25:9 398

5:29 390 25:12 389, 395
5:11 390 26:6 397
6 289 26:7 390
6:1–4 345 26:8 397
6:7 398 27:2 390
6:9 390 27:4 395
6:10 69, 129, 136, 395 27:13 38, 40
7:20 395 28:12 391
8:6 391 28:17 389, 394
8:9 397 28:20 395
9:18 391 28:22 390
9:19[20] 395 29:3 390
10:6 390 29:5 390
10:12 393, 398 29:7 390
10:13 398, 398 29:9 392
10:21 178 30:6 394
10:22 177, 178, 179 30:11 395
10:29 398 30:19 393
10:32 393 30:23 389, 391, 398
11 206, 444 30:30 394
11:1 447 31:4 396
11:6–9 204, 206, 207 31:5 391
11:4 390, 398 31:6 394
11:6 207 31:9 393
12:1 73 32:10 397
12:2 394 32:11 398
13:9 390 32:19 389, 392
13:19 392 33:1 395
14:12–14 287 33:3 390
14:19 390 33:5 364
14:23 391 33:10 396
14:29 395 33:20 393
15:5 392 33:21 398
16:6–7 398 34:3 395
16:9 390 LXX 34:5 129
16:14 390 34:11 396
17:5 390 34:15 391, 394
17:12 390, 396 35:4–5 493
18:1 393 35:8 392, 394
18:7 395 35:9 398
20:6 393 36:12 392
21:4 389 36:14 399
21:6 395 37:1, 7 392
21:10 390 37:22 393
21:15 389 37:27 390, 394
22:5 390 37:29 397
23:7 390 37:32–33 392
23:9 392 37:32 393
23:13 398 38:8 396
24:23 393 38:11 397
25:8 51 38:16 396
38:20 396 53:2 445

39:2 396 54:2 390
40:3 446 54:10 396
40:9 393 55:1 397
40:17 399 55:2 396
40:20 392, 393, 394 LXX 55:7 79
41:7 399 55:9 396
41:8 390 55:13 392
41:11, 17, 22 399 LXX 57:4 129
41:27 393 57:19 395
41:29 390 59:13 395, 397
42:1–4 112 59:21 397
42:5 395 60:7 392
42:11 391, 399 60:8 395
42:13 393 60:18 395
42:16 389, 399 60:21 181, 182
43:2 393 61:1[2]‌ 396
43:3 392 61:1–2 450
43:19 391 61:4 396
44:4 390, 391 61:7 392
44:7 390 62:1 393
44:9 45 62:5 396
44:9–10 45 62:8 392
44:10 45 62:10 397
44:19, 20 394 63:2 389, 399
44:22 79 63:9, 17 392
45:9 396 64:7[8]‌ 390
45:19 375 64:10 393
45:24 395, 396 65:5 391
46:5 399 66:1 393
46:8 68, 73, 74 66:11 395
46:10 396 66:15 391, 395
47:8 390 66:20 395
48:7 399
48:8 396 Jer 2:8 45
48:14 399 2:11 45, 51
48:16 375 4:28 69, 71
48:19 397 5:3 370
48:20 397 8:6 70, 71, 72
49:6 392 9:3 169
49:7 395 15:6 69
49:18 399 15:7 69
49:25 392 16:7 340
51:5 390 16:19 45
51:6 393 18:8 69, 70, 71
51:9 389 18:10 70, 71, 372
51:18 389 20:16 69
LXX 51:23 282, 396 23:32 45
52:1, 3 393 26:3, 13, 19 69, 73
52:6 397 31:19 71, 72
52:7 392, 449 LXX 33:3, 13, 19 69, 73
53:1 129, 136 34:5 340
36:3 79 Joel 2:13 69, 70, 71

LXX 38:19 71, 72 2:14 69, 71
38:19 70 2:23(20) 443
42:10 69 LXX 3:2 63
LXX 43:3 79
LXX 49:10 69 Amos 2:1 340
51[44]:14 370 7:3, 6 69, 71
Lam 1:16 74 Jonah 1:3, 5 496

2:3, 5, 8 51 2:1 38
2:7 38
Ezek 1 289 3:9, 10 69, 70, 71
1:4–28 345 4:2 69, 71
4:4–8 445
4:14 374
Mic 5:2–4 444
7:23 374
7:3 375
11:24 111
16:37 374
Nah 2:13 48
18:6 374
19:2 48
20:30 374 Hab 2:4 36
22:18 374 2:18 45
22:26 373
24:14 69 Zech 3:4 373
32:27 340 4:14 447
33:14–16 79 6:12–13 444
36:25 229 7:7 364
37:1 111 8:14 69, 71
37:1–14 38 9:9 40, 135
47:7, 11 370 12:10 128, 129, 132,
133
Dan 2 358 13:7 448
2:41 374 14:8 131
2:44 444
7 289, 358 Mal 2:11 373
7:9 291 3:1–2 444
7:18, 22 108
8:14 17, 19, 23, 451 NT
9 452 Matt 1:18, 20 110, 112
9:24–27 445, 448, 451
9:25 449 1:24 112
11:30 314 2:13–14 112
11:34 412 3:1–4 112
11:35, 40 451 3:5–6 217, 225
12:3 287 3:5 228
12:7–13 451 3:11 110, 112
3:13 225, 228
Hos 2:18 206 3:16 110
6:2 38 3:13–17 232
10:12(19) 443 4:1 110, 112
11:8 371 4:17, 23 107
5–7 107
5:3 xiii, 107, 108, 109, 111, 20:20–28 252

113, 114, 115, 116, 118, 21:1–7 136
119, 123, 124 22:14 190
5:3–12 120 22:43 110, 111, 112
5:5 361 22:45 112
5:10–11 113 23–25 107
5:10, 11 108 23:2–3 181
5:18–22 112 23:3 181
5:20 305, 306 23:14 90
5:39 76, 121 23:34–35 13
5:40, 42 121 26:6–13 110
5:44 305 26:9, 11 109
6:9–13 189 26:9–12 9
7:6 76, 77 26:26–29 186
7:15 189 26:41 110
8 253 26:57–75 253
8:16 110 26:69–75 253
8:20 121 27:32 138
8:28–33 492 27:34, 35 134
8:28 492 27:46–48 134
9:17 9 27:47 128
9:22 76 27:49 133
9:34 111 27:50 110
10 107, 112 28:1–7 144
10:1 110 28:9–10 85, 146
10:5 164 28:16–20 147
10:20 110, 112 28:18–20 186
10:25 50 28:18 291
11:4–5 493 28:19 110
11:5 109, 110
12:18 110 Mark 1:4 232
12:22–32 360 1:5 217, 225
12:24 50, 111 1:8 115
12:27 50 1:9–11 232
12:28 110, 112 1:23–26 491
12:29 112 1:27 491
12:31, 32 110 2:1–12 (par.) 493
12:43, 45 110 2:3 232
13 107 2:18 229
16:16 186 2:22 9
16:23 76 3:22–27 491
16:26 120 3:22–30 360
17:1–8 290 3:22 50
17:21 90 3:31–35 (par.) 171
17:24–27 496 5:1–12 491
18 107 5:1–14 492
18:1–6 252 5:30 76
18:11 90 5:42 491
19:13–15 252 6:3 124
19:16–22 121 7:16 90
19:21 109, 110, 121 8:33 76
19:27, 28, 29 287 8:34–38 121
9:33–37 252 1:32 56

9:44, 46 90 1:34 60
10:13–16 252 1:38 55, 57, 59, 60,
10:21 109, 121 61, 62, 63
10:25 121 1:38b 57
10:35–45 252 1:46 58
10:45 186, 195 1:47 58
11:1 225 1:48–50 59
11:26 90 1:48 59, 61, 62
12:26–27 (par.) 37 1:49 58
12:28–34 304 1:50 61
12:29–31 186 1:51–55 57, 60
12:36 111 1:52–54 61
12:40 357 1:52 61
12:42, 43 109 1:54 61
13:28–31 452 1:56 75, 76
13:30 450 1:68–71, 74 61
14:5, 7 109 1:68 61
14:22–25 186 1:72, 78 61
14:25 360, 361 1:78 61
14:26–27 448 1:80 233
14:53–72 253 2:20 75, 76
14:66–72 253 2:22–24 58
15:21 138 2:22–32 60
15:24 134 2:27 111
15:28 90 2:29–30 62
15:34–36 134 2:29–32 159
15:35 128 2:30 60
15:38 135 2:39 75, 76
15:44 133 2:43 75, 76
15:46 476 2:45 75, 76
16:1–8 85, 144 3:2–17 60
16:8, 9 85, 86, 96, 97, 98, 3:3 79, 217, 225
100, 101 3:8 79
16:9–20 xiii, 84, 85, 86, 90, 91, 3:21–22 232
92, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 4:1 75, 76, 111, 225
100, 101, 102, 103 4:14 75, 76
16:16 476 4:16–19 450
16:17 94 4:18 109
16:20 85, 96 4:18–21 109
4:41 64
Luke 1 xiii, 55, 56, 59, 60, 64 5:1–11 496
1–2 55 5:11, 28 114
1:5 59 5:37 9
1:7 60 6:20 109, 113, 116, 119
1:16, 17 78 6:20–22 120
1:18 59 6:20–26 300
1:26–38 56 6:21, 29, 30 121
1:27 56 7 253
1:28 56, 60 7:9 76
1:30 60 7:10 75, 76
1:31–32 56 7:11–17 489
7:12–15 476 18:15–17 252

7:14–16 61 18:22 109
7:16 490 18:28 114
7:22–23 493 19:8 109
7:22 109 19:12 75, 76
7:36 87 19:15 76
7:44 76 21:3 109
8:26–34 492 21:28–33 450
8:31–33 492 21:31–32 452
8:37 76 21:38 87, 101, 102, 103
8:39 75, 76 22 253
8:40 75, 76 22:14–20 186
8:55 75, 76 22:19–20 91
9:10 75, 76 22:24–30 252
9:38 61 22:32 78
9:41 78 22:54–62 253
9:42–43 61 22:55–71 253
9:46–48 252 22:61 76
9:55 76 23:2 76, 78
9:57–61 121 23:14 78
9:58 121 23:17 90
10:17–24 61 23:26 138
10:17 75, 76 23:27 133
10:18 360 23:28 76
10:21 111, 115 23:34 134
10:23 76 23:36 133
10:27, 37 61 23:40–41 133
11:1 232 23:48 75, 76
11:14–32 360 23:56 75, 76
11:15, 18–19 50 24:1–12 144
11:20 (par.) 360 24:5, 12 91
11:24 75, 76 24:9 75, 76
11:39–41, 42 (par.) 357 24:26–27 185
11:51 13 24:26 185
12:6–7 121 24:27 186
12:15 121 24:33 75, 76
12:21 110, 111 24:36, 40 91
12:22–28, 33–34 121 24:44–46 450
13:34–35 450 24:44–47 185
14:11 61 24:44 186
14:13, 21 109 24:46–48 159
14:25 76 24:47 79
16:10–12 189 24:50–53 147
16:20, 22 109 24:51–52 91
17 79 24:52 75, 76
17:3–4 77, 79 24:53 101
17:4 78 27–28 305
17:7–10 62
17:15, 18 75, 76 John 1:1 186
17:31 76 1:1–3 185, 186
17:36 90 1:1–14 289
18:14 61 1:12–14 186
1:14 185, 186 11 225

1:19–23 444 11:8 144
1:28 217, 225 11:45–50 121
1:34 89 12:3–8 136
1:35 229 11:51–52 135
1:38 76, 144 12:5, 6, 8 109
1:40, 41, 44–45 229 12:38–40 136
1:49 144, 186 12:38 128, 129
2:18–22 149 12:39 129
2:19–21 135 12:40 129
3 291 13–19 138
3:2 144 13 253
3:3–8 290 13:1 131, 138
3:3 290 13:3 138
3:12 291 13:5 9
3:16 39 13:10–11 138
3:22 229, 234 13:12 305
3:23 228, 233 13:18 129, 137, 138
3:25 229, 231 13:21 138
3:26 217, 225, 228 13:26–27 137
4:2 229, 234 13:27 137
4:7–14 137 13:29 109
4:9–10 164 13:33, 36, 38 138
4:14 130 14,1–6 185
4:31 144 14:2 138
4:44 136 14:12 147
5:3b–4 90 14:15–21 147
5:43 358 14:19 138
6:15 131 14:28 147
6:25 144 14:30 138
6:39 129 15:25 129
6:48–51 186 16:5 147
6:68–69 186 16:7 148
6:70–71 129, 137 16:10 147, 151
7:36 87, 101, 102, 103 16:11, 16 138
7:37–39 131, 137 16:17 138, 151
7:40–52 98 16:19–22 138
7:44 88, 102 16:28 147
7:52 87, 88, 102 16:31–32 138
7:53–8:11 xiii, 84, 87, 88, 90, 91, 17:1 138
92, 94, 95, 97, 98, 99, 17:6–19 328
100, 101, 102 17:11 138
8:12, 12a, 13, 14a, 20 88 17:11–12 291
8:12–20 98 17:12 129, 138
9:2 144 17:13 138
10:2–4 144 17:15 328
10:11–15 185 17:20–23 135
10:15–16 135 17:20–24 328
10:18 137 18:1–2 137
10:29–30 185 18:4 138
10:36 88 18:5–6 138
10:40 217, 225 18:7–9 138
18:11 137 1:8 272

18:13–27 253 1:12 75, 76
18:15–18, 19–24, 25–27, 36 138 1:14 156, 157, 158
19:11 138 1:15 157, 158
19:23–24 127, 134, 135 1:16 157, 158, 159
19:23–27 127 2 63
19:24 135 2:1–4 63
19:25–27 138 2:4 115
19:28–29 131, 132 2:5–11 158, 159, 160
19:28–30 128, 130, 131, 132, 133, 2:9–11 260
137, 139 2:10 159
19:28 129, 131 2:11 63
19:29 130, 131, 132, 134 2:14 159
19:30 137, 138 2:16 63
19:31–32 128, 133 2:18 63
19:31–37 150 2:19 63
19:32–37 128 2:22 159
19:34 133 2:22–36 186
19:36–37 133 2:23 129
19:36 129, 137 2:23–32 186
19:37 129 2:23–39 185
19:39–40 476 2:29 157, 158, 159
20 144, 147 2:29–36 186, 192
20:2 144 2:25–35 58
20:8, 9 149 2:37 157, 158, 159
20:11–13 144 2:38 79
20:11–18 143 2:39 273
20:13 144 2:42 192
20:14 76 3 79, 80
20:14–17 146 3:17 157, 158
20:15 144 3:19 78
20:16 76, 144 3:22 157, 158
20:17 145, 146, 147 3:25 78
20:18 147 3:26 78, 79
20:20 149 4:1–22 63
20:24–29 143, 148 4:8 115
20:25 147, 148 4:13 123
20:27 149, 150 4:25 115
20:28 186 4:29 63
20:29 150 4:30 63
20:31 185 4:31 63
21:3–14 496 5:22 75, 76
21:19–23 147 5:31 79
21:20 76 6:1 157, 159
21:24 87 6:2 157, 159
21:25 101, 102, 103 6:2–3 162
6:3 157, 158, 159
Acts 1–9 156, 158, 159 6:5 159, 260
1:1–11 147 6:7 157
1:1–15:22 170, 171 6:10 111
1:5 115 7:2 157, 158, 159
1:6 185 7:13 156, 157, 158
7:23 157 11:15 261

7:25 158 11:16 115
7:26 157, 158 11:18 156, 165
7:37 157, 158 11:19 163, 164, 172, 260
7:39 77, 78 11:19–26 267
7:45–46 57 11:20 164, 260
8 157 11:21 78
8:5 163, 273 11:22 260
8:14 163 11:25 260
8:22 79 11:26 160, 266, 271, 272
8:25 75, 76 11:27 260
8:26–40 271 11:27–30 162
8:28 75, 76 11:29 160
8:29 270 11:29–30 274
8:36–37 186 11:30 76
8:37 90 12 261
8:40 260, 261, 268, 269 12:1–2 261
9:1–2 159 12:2 156, 160
9:1 157 12:3–19a 261
9:10 157, 159 12:17 160
9:13–14 159 12:19 260, 261, 268
9:17 156, 158 12:20–23 261
9:19 158, 159 12:22 261
9:21–35 260 12:23, 24 261
9:25 158, 159 12:25 75, 76
9:26–30 162, 260 13–14 161
9:26 158 13:1 164, 260
9:30 158, 260, 268, 272 13:4–14:28 272
9:35 78 13:8 78
9:36 158, 159 13:9 258
9:36–43 260 13:10 78
9:38 158, 159 13:13 76
9:40 76 13:15, 26 159, 160, 161
10 157, 159, 260 13:16–25 161
10–11 262, 269, 270 13:26–37 161
10–14 157, 160 13:34 75, 78
10:1–48 260 13:38 159, 160, 161
10:1–14:27 156 13:38–39 161
10:1 260, 264 13:38–41 161
10:23 160 13:48–49 162
10:24 260, 273 13:52 160, 161
10:27, 28 270 13:52–14:2 162
10:38 115 14:2 160, 161
10:44 260, 261 14:15 78
10:45 156, 160, 165 14:20 160, 161
11 157, 260 14:21 76, 160, 161
11:1 156, 160 14:22 160, 161
11:1–3 165 14:26 260
11:1–18 260 14:27–28 163
11:2 165, 268 14:27–15:3 163
11:11 260 14:28 163, 164
11:12 160 14:28–15:1 162
14:28–15:29 156 19:1 167, 169

15 155, 165, 306 19:1–6 231
15–18 168 19:1–7 169
15:1 155, 163, 164, 167, 172 19:9 167, 169
15:2 165 19:21 275
15:3 75, 78, 163, 164 19:30 167
15:5 165 20:1 167
15:6–11 165 20:3 75, 76
15:7 156, 159, 163, 166 10:22 115
15:7–10 162 20:30 78, 167
15:9 171 20:35 189
15:10 163, 165, 166 21:4 167
15:12 165, 166 21:6 75, 76
15:13 159, 163, 166 21:7 167
15:13–21 165 21:8 260, 261, 262
15:14 61 21:8–9 262
15:19 78 21:8–14 272
15:22 163, 166, 260 21:10 268
15:23 155, 156, 163, 164, 166, 21:10–14 262
167, 168, 170, 171, 21:11b 262
172, 260 21:12 262, 268
15:23–29 163, 166 21:13 262
15:24 163 21:15 268
15:28–29 170 21:16 167, 260, 262
15:30 260 21:17 167
15:30–18:22 262 21:20 156, 167
15:30–28:31 156 21:21 168
15:32, 33 166 21:27–28:31 262
15:34 90 22:1 159, 167, 168
15:35 260 22:5 167, 168
15:36 75, 166 22:12 159
15:40 167 22:13 156, 167
16 168 22:17 75, 76
16:1 167 23 181
16:2 167, 168 23:1 159, 167, 168
16:1–2 162 23:5 167, 168
16:16–17 64 23:6 159, 167, 168
16:17 64 23:11 275
16:18 76 23:23 258, 260
16:29–34 186 23:31 75
16:31 186 23:32 76
16:40 167 23:33 260
17–18 161 24:1 268
17:6, 10, 14 167 24:7–8a 90
17:16–34 26 24:2–25 262
18:18 167 24:11 268
18:22 258, 260, 268, 272, 273 24:17 274
18:22–23 258 24:22 268
18:23 167, 273 24:23 262
18:24–25 231 25:1 260, 268
18:24–26 168 25:4 260
18:27 162, 167, 168, 169 25:6 260, 268
25:7 268 14 180

25:6–12 262 15 180
25:9 268 15:3 187
25:10–11 275 15:25–29 274
25:13 260 15:26 109
26 181 16:3–4 179
26:1–23 274 16:24 90
26:1–32 262
26:18 78, 80, 275 1 Cor 1–4 347
26:20 78, 79 1:23 193
26:28 266 2:8 186
27:1 264 5:5 182
27:1–2 263 6:11 111
27:1–28:14 262 7:10 186, 189, 193
27:24 275 7:17–31 451
28 161 7:29 451
28:14 167, 168 7:31 451
28:15 167, 168, 261 8:6 186
28:17 159, 167, 168 9:19–23 161
28:21 167, 168 11:2 186
28:27 78 11:23–26 186
28:29 90 11:23–29 186
12:3 186
Rom 20, 22 12:31 194
1 317 14:15 111, 115
1–8 180 14:37 186, 189, 193
1:1 185 15:3 129, 195
1:3–4 185, 186 15:3–5 185
1:16 161 15:3–8 129, 186, 187, 194
1:18–25 7 15:3–9 192
1:31 10 15:58 171
4 166 16:1–4 274
4:1–16 21
4:16–17 37 2 Cor 3:3 115
4:19 35, 36 6:3–10 110
4:25 186 6:10 109, 120
5:8 195 6:15 43, 46, 49
6:3–4 186 8:1–9:15 274
8:13–14 115 8:9 120
8:29 171 11 181
8:32 39 12:1–4 287
9–11 xiii, 177, 180 12:18 115
9:3 171
9:3–5 180 Gal 20, 22
9:26 183 1:1–4 186
9:27 177, 178, 179, 183 1:3–4 186
10:9 185, 187 1:4 195
10:9–10 192, 194 1:17 75
11:17–24 183 2:1–10 165, 171
11:23–29 182 2:10 109, 274
11:26 177, 179, 181, 183 2:11–14 171
11:29 180 2:12 165
3:6–29 20, 21 Heb 1:1–2 39

4:9 109 1:3–4 290
4:21–31 21 1:5–2:9 39
5:5, 16 115 2:11 171
5:16–17 182 3:1–6 39
5:16–24 300 3:7 39
5:18 115 3:7–4:14 29
5:19–21 182 4:1–11 39
5:25 115 5:1–10 39
6:1 39
Eph 1:3–14 186 6:13–8:13 39
1:13 111, 115 7:1 75
1:21 291 8:5 39
2 166 9:1–28 39
9:8 39
Phil 2:6–9 186 9:23, 24 39
2:6–11 147, 186, 189, 290 6:17 34
2:7b–9 147 10:1 39
2:9–10 291 10:15 39
3 181 10:19–39 29
3:4–6 181 10:38 36
3:5–6 181 10:39 36
3:7–8 120 11:1–12:13 29
4:1 171 11:1 40
11:4 13, 36
Col 1 166 11:5 36
1:12–20 186 11:8–22 34
2:9–15 186 11:12 34, 35, 36, 37, 40
2:11–14 186 11:13 33, 36, 40
4:11 165 11:17 22, 32
11:17–19 29, 36
1 Thess 1:9–10 451 11:19 40
2:19 451 11:21–22 36
3:13 451 11:26 36
4:1 186 11:35 36
4:2–12 320 11:35–39 33
4:13–18 451 11:39–40 36
4:17 361 12:1 30
5:23 451 12:2 40
12:3–4 36
2 Thess 2:8 111 12:18–24 39
2:15 186 12:24 13
3:6 186
Jas 1:19–27 300
1 Tim 2:6 186 2:2, 3 109
3:16 186, 193 2:5 109, 120
5:18 189, 193 2:6 109
5:23 92 3:21–23 22
2 Tim 2:8 186 1 Pet 3:18 186

Titus 1:10 165 3:19 195
2 Pet 192, 196 Wis 13, 33, 319

2:21 75 2:22–23; 8:19; 9:15 210
3:16 193 10:1–11:20 30
10:3 12
1 John 1:1 150 10:3–4 12
3:12 12 10:5 30; 33
3:15 3, 12 11:23 79
3:16 171 12:5 10
4:2 186, 187 12:18–19 79
5:7b–8a 90, 95 13 317
13:5 317
2–3 John 192, 196
Sir 119
3 John 1:7 291 3:3 381
16:21 375
Jude 192, 196 17:24–25 73, 74
6 12 17:24–26 79
7–8 12 18:13 371
9–10 12 18:133 381
9 355 23:2–3 371
11–13 12 39:1–11 300
16 12 44–50 30
44:20 34
Rev 192 47:11 409
2:5, 7 288 48:15 79
2:9 110 51:13–20, 30 404
2:17, 28 288
3–5 287 Bel 26 10
3:5, 12 288
3:17 109 1 Macc 314
3:17–18 110 1:10–64 358
3:21 xiv, 282, 284, 286, 287, 1:48 358
288, 289 2:49–70 30
4 288 2:51–52 22
4:2–9 345 2:52 32, 34
5:6, 7–8, 11 288 2:64 30
6:9–11 120 7:13–16 375
7:14 120 7:23 375
11:1–13 447 9:9 370
12 360
12:9–10 360 2 Macc 251, 314
12:9 50 2:19–32 245
12:15–16 9 2:28 245
13:1–8 358 6:12 378
13:16 109 7 358
7:11 35
(LXX and) Deuterocanonical 7:9, 11, 22–29 37
Tob 4:5–21 300 11:3 37
14:4 370 11:15 10
14:15, 18 340 11:18 10
11:24 10
Jdt 8:25–27 30 11:35 10, 35
1 Esd 8:67, 84 374 2 Bar. 296, 302, 313

8:87 [Ezra 9:15] 374 50:2–3 35
51:3 35
Pr Man 1:7–11 79 57:1–2 37
3 Macc 93
1 En. xiii, xiv, 6, 119, 287,
2 Esd 9:2, 7 374 296, 302, 312, 313, 455,
457, 505, 509
4 Macc 13, 93, 358 1–36 (Book of Watchers) 461, 510
1:8, 10; 3:18 210 1–11 325
5:16–17 300 1 332
11:22; 13:25; 15:9 210 6–11 4, 328
16:16–23 30 6:1–9:4 461
18:10–11 12 7:1 339
7:3–5 461
OT PSEUDEPIGRAPHA 7:6 4
Ahiqar 312 8:1–3 328, 339
105:22 113 8:4–10:14 461
Apoc. Ab. 16 9 4, 328
9:1 461
Apoc. Mos. 31:3–4 145 9:2 4
9:4–11 328
Apocr. Ezek. 2:1 74 9:9b 461
9:10 4
As. Mos. xiv
10:15 461
2–10 355
10:16–11:2 329
2:1–6:1 354
12:1–14:8 325
5–6 358
14:9–15:1 325
6 358
15:2–16:3 325
6:2–6 354
15:4, 9–10 461
6:4, 7 354
15:8–16:1 461
6:8–9 354, 355
18:1–36:4 325
7:1–2 354, 355
21–36 329
7:3–9 354, 355, 357
22 4
7:3, 4, 6, 8, 9 357
22:5–7 3, 4
8 354, 355
22:12 4
8–9 358
37–71 (Parables of Enoch) 122, 323, 325, 329
8:1–2 358
65 325
8:1 358
65–67 329
9 354, 355
72–82 (Book of Luminaries) 463
10 355
78:11–14 463
10:1 360
81:1–10 325
10:1a, 1b 354
82:1–4 331
10:2a 355
83–84 (Book of Dreams) xiv,
10:2b–10 355, 361
323, 324, 325, 326, 327,
10:9 361
328, 329
10:11 355
83 323, 324, 325
12:13 355
83:1–11 331–335
Ascen. Isa 313 83:1 323
2:9; 4:16–17, 18; 8:14–15; 361 83:2 323
9:17–18, 24–26 83:3–4 325
83:7–8, 11 325
84 324, 328 Greek Life of Adam and xiv, 3, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10,

84:1–6 325, 328, 335–337 Eve (GLAE) 11, 12, 313, 471,
84:2 324 472–475
84:3–6 324 1 473
84:3 324, 326 1:1–3:1 475
84:4 324, 326, 328, 329 1–2 7
84:5 324, 328 1:3 9
84:6 325, 326, 328, 329 2–3 473
85–90 (Animal Apocalypse) xiii, 323, 324, 325, 2 11
328, 329 2:1–3:1 8
85:1 331 2:2 9
85:3 323 3:1 10
85:10–86:2; 87:1–3 324 3:2–3 475
89:42–49 324 3:2 9, 475
90:40 325 3:3 9
93:1–10; 91:11–17 329 4:1–5:1 473
(Apocalypse of Weeks) 4:2 9
93:1 331 5:1–30:1 479
91:1–10; 91:18–19 329 5:2–3 473
(Exhortation) 5:3 478
91:1–2 331
5:4–8:2 473
91:5–10 329
6–8 7
92:1–5; 93:11–105:2 329
7–8 479
(Epistle)
9–13 473
92:1 331
9:3 473
99:11–16 300
10–12 7
105:1–2 331
13:2 473
106–107 (Birth of Noah) 325, 329, 331
14–30 473
106:13–107:2 329
14:1 478
108 323, 329
15–29 479
108:1 331
15–30 7
16 473
2 En. 119, 287
21:1 475
B 42:6–1 300
31–42 7
71:22 340
31–43 473
71:36 343
32 476
33:1 476
3 En. 287, 288, 290
33:3–4 479
2:2 285
34:1–2 479
3:2 285
35:4 479
4:8 285
36:1 479
4:10 285
36:2–3 479
6 285
37:3, 4 476
8:2 285
37:6 10
9:1–15:2 285
38–43 7
12 288
38 476
15 290
40:1–2 476
16 288
40:6 476
42:1 476
4 Ezra 296, 302, 504
43:1–3 475
14:28–35 300
43:2–3 475, 476 3–8 317

43:2–4 477 9–21 317
84–85 317
Jos. Asen. 313, 318 108 35
140 317
Jub. 6, 11, 16, 30, 31, 325,
327, 328 Pss. Sol. xiv
1:19–20 326 1 364, 369, 375, 376, 377,
1:20 43, 50 378, 379
4:3 4 1:1–3 364, 365
4:31 5 1:2–3 364
4:31–32 8 1:2 372
10:1–6 326 1:4–8 364
10:3, 4, 5, 6 326 1:6 375
11:4–17 16 1:7 375, 377
12 327 1:8 373, 375
12:1–14 16 2 364, 369, 378
12:16–20 326 2:1 374
12:19, 20 326 2:2–3 373
15:33 43, 50 2:3 373
17:15–18 32 2:6 374
17:18 33 2:7 373
18:9–10 33 2:8 372
18:13 40 2:9 375
18:16 33 2:13 374
19 327 2:15 379
19:9 34 2:16 373
19:28 327 2:17 377
20:1–10 300 2:22–25, 26 372
3 376, 379
LAB 16, 30 3:5–8 376
7:4–5 16 3:5 376, 379
18:3 37 3:6–8 377
18:5 32, 35, 36 3:8 375, 377
32:1 16 3:9–11 379
32:1–2 32 3:9 376
32:2–3 36 3:11 373
32:3 36, 37 4:5 375
40:3 36 4:8 379
4:19–20 374
Let. Aris. 312, 318, 319, 503 4:21 373
5:5 371
Liv. Pro. 313, 340 5:6 372
4:6, 20 43 5:7 369
17:2 43 5:12 372
6:2 372
Mart. Ascen. Isa. 1:8–9; 2:4; 3:11, 13; 4:2, 6:5 371, 372
4, 16, 18; 5:1, 15, 43 7 369
7:1 129
Pr.Jos. 292 7:7 372
8 364, 369, 378
Ps.-Phoc. 312, 317, 319 8:1, 4, 5 372
8:7 379 Sib. Or. 312

8:9, 10 374 2:255–258 316
8:12 373, 374 3 206, 207, 316,
8:13 375 319
8:22 373 3:49 207
8:23, 26 379 3:63–4 43
8:27–28 372 3:182–190 316
8:27 369 3:218–247 300
9 365 3:246 316
9:2 379 3:545–555 316
9:4–5 366 3:597–598 316
9:6 370, 371, 373, 375, 3:599–600 316
376, 377 3:718–719 317
9:7 371, 378 3:757–758 317
9:8 372 3:762–766 316
9:10 369 3:788–795 206
10 377 3:788 207
10:1–2 375, 381 3:794 206
10:1 373, 377 5 207
10:2–3 377 5:108, 155, 256, 414 207
10:4 373
10:9 375 Syr. Men. 427–433 113
12:1, 5 372
13 371 T. 12 Patr. 313–314, 319
13:7–8 376 T. Ash.
13:7 375, 376 1:8; 3:2; 6:4 43
13:8 376 T. Benj.
13:10 377 3:1–5 300
13:11 372 3:3–4, 8; 6:1, 7; 7:1–2 43
14:2–3 366 T. Dan
14:7 373 1:7; 4:7; 5:1 43
14:9 372 5:1–3 300
15:1–4 366 5:10–11 43
15:11 372 T. Iss.
16 372 4:1–5:3 300
16:6 372 6:1; 7:7 43
16:7–8 372 T. Jos.
16:10 372 7:4; 20:2 43
16:11 369, 370, 371, 372 T. Jud.
16:12 372 14:1–4 300
17 364, 369, 374, 381 25:3 43
17:4 375 T. Levi
17:5–6 375 2:5–4:6 327
17:8 372 3:3 43
17:12, 14 375 13:1–6 300
17:22, 30 373, 375 13:1–13 300
17:36 375 18:12; 19:1 43
18 371 T. Naph.
18:2 372 2:6; 3:1 43
18:4 375, 376 T. Reu.
18:5 375 4:7, 11; 6:3 43
64:5 375 T. Sim.
5:3 43 xiii 14 109

T. Zeb. xiv 4–15, 18 405
9:7 75 xiv 7 120
9:8 43 xiv 16–18 405
xviii 16–xix 8 405
T. 3 Patr.
T. Ab. 16, 75, 319 1Q34 405
B 12:13 75 1Q34bis 405
T. Isaac 64 300 1QHa 405, 444, 451
1QHb (1Q35) 405
T. Job 319
4:9 361 2QNuma (2Q6) 422, 423, 427
33 361 4QGenb (4Q2) 427, 423, 428
46–52 361 4QpaleoGen–Exodl (4Q11) 423, 427
52 361 4QExodc (4Q14) 423, 427
4QpaleoExodm (4Q22) 423, 427, 428
DSS AND RELATED TEXTS 4Q28a 447
1QSam (1Q7) 441 4QDeut 422
1QIsaa xiv, 387–400, 423, 427 4QDeutg (4Q34) 423, 427
1QIsab (1Q8) 390, 393, 395, 396, 397, 4QJudgb (4Q50) 423
398, 399 4QSama (4Q51) 423, 428, 434–40, 442
1QpMic (1Q14) 450 4QSamc (4Q53) 441
4QIsab (4Q56) 390, 391, 393, 394, 395,
1QpHab i 1–2 450 397, 398
v 10–11 450 4QIsac (4Q57) 395, 396, 397
vii 1–viii 3a 451 4QIsad (4Q58) 390, 395
vii 4 445 4QIsae (4Q59) 391, 395, 397
vii 4–5 450 4QIsaf (4Q60) 395
xii 3, 6a, 10a 109 4QpapIsap (4Q69) 390
4QJerc (4Q72) 423
1Q16 406 4QEzeka (4Q73) 423, 328
1QapGen ar (1Q20) 425, 428
1QSa (1Q28a) 447 4Q83 406, 407
4Q84.86.87.88.92.95.98 406
1QS 445, 446, 451 4QPsc (4Q85) 423, 427
iii 6–12 233 4QPse (4Q87) 406, 407
iv 2–6 300 4QPsf (4Q88) 405, 407, 412
vi 10, 22 169
vii 12b–14 446 4Q165 443
ix 9b–11 446 4QpPsa (4Q171) 404, 406, 448
ix 12 405 4Q172 406
ix 19b–20 446 4QpPsb (4Q173) 404, 406
ix 21, 26 405 4QFlor (4Q174) 404, 447
x6 405 4QTestimonia (4Q175) 447
xi 15 405
4Q201–202 461
1QM (1Q33) 451, 425 4Q203 (EnGiantsa ar) frag. 324, 331
x 8–xii 5 405 9.2 324
xi 9, 3 109 9.3 335, 336
xii 7–18 405 9.4 324, 336
xii 18 405 9.5 324, 336
xiii 7–18 405
9.6 324, 335, 337 xix 409

10.1 324, 337 xix 13 409
4Q204–206 (4QEnc–e) 324, 461 xxii 1–15 410, 412, 413
4Q207 (4QEnf) 324 xxii 2–11 412
4QAstronomical Enocha (4Q209) 463 xxvi 2–8, 9–16 408
xxvi 3 412
4Q213a (Levib ar) i 6–10 327 xxvii 1 408, 409
4Q213a i 17 50 xxvii 2–11 408, 409, 410, 411,
4Q213a ii 14–18 327 412, 413
xxvii 6–7 412
4Q225 (4QPseudo-Jubileesa) 30 xxvii 9–10 414
4Q225 frag. 2 i 3–7 32 xxvii 11 412
4Q225 frag. 2 i 9–10 32 xxvii 12 409
4Q225 frag. 2 ii 7–8 34 xxviii 1–2 409
4Q225 frag. 2 ii 10–12 32 xxviii 3–12, 13–14 409
4Q226 frag. 7 line 1 34
11QPsb (11Q6) 405, 406, 407, 412
4QCommGen C (4Q254) 424
4QSa frag. 2 233 11QapocrPs (11Q11) 406, 407, 411, 413, 416
4QcryptA Lunisolar Cal. (4Q317) 424 ii 1–v 3 414
4Q380–381 405 v 4–vi 3 414
4Qpap paraKings (4Q382) 424, 425 vi 3–14 415–16
4QpsEzekc (4Q385b) 1 i–iii 421
4QMMT 316, 318 11Q11 vi 3–13 404
4Q400–407 405
4QInstruction 214 11QMelch (11Q13) 290, 449
4Q427–432 405, 444 ii 6b–9a 449
4QHa–e (4Q427–431) 444 11Q17 405
4QpapHf (4Q432) 444 11QTa (11Q19) 421, 424, 428
4Q434–438 405 xlv–lx; lxi–lxvi 421
4Q448–454 405
4Q456–457b 405 CD 316, 445
4Q460 405 i 9, 10 445
4Q460 9 i 9 51 i 9–11 447
4Q481c 405 iv 15–160 314
4Q503 405 vi 2, 10 447
4Q504–506 405 vii 19, 20 447
4Q505 frag. 125 405 xii 23–xiii 1 447
4Q507–509 405 xiv 18–19 447
4Q510–511 405 xix 10–11 447
4QpapRitPur B (4Q512) 424 xx 1 447
4Q521 6 120 xx 18 169
4Q522 407 B xix 7–9 448
4Q522 22–26, 1–6 (apocr Joshc) 404 B xix 33a–35, xx 1 447
4QapocrLebib? ar (4Q541) 424 B xx 13b–15 448
5QPs (5Q5) 406 XQLevc = Mur/ḤevLevc 423

Ḥev(?)JoelD 423
11QPsa (11Q5) 404, 405, 406, Mur/ḤevJoshE 423
407, 416
iii 15 409 Mas1a (Leva) 425, 428
xiv 9 410 Mas1b (Levb) 423, 425, 428
Mas1c (DeutA) 423, 424 m. Sanh. 10 183

Mas1d (Ezek) 423, 424 m. Sanh. 10.1.A–B 181
Mas1e (Psa) 423, 424 m. Sanh. 10.1.C–G, 2.A–D 182
Mas1k (ShirShabb) 405 m. Yad. 4:7 231
MurGen (Mur 1 frag. 1) 423 t. Sanh. 9:11 304
MurNum (Mur 1 frag. 6) 422, 423
MurDeut (Mur 2 frag. 2) 423 b. B. Meṣ. 59b 496
MurIsa (Mur 3) 423 b. Ber. 60b 38
MurXII (Mur 88) 423, 426, 428 b. Ber. 61b 300
Sdeir 1 (Gen) 423 b. H�ag. 3a 15
5/6Ḥev 1b (Ps) 425, 428 b. Menaḥ. 29b, 30a 429
8Ḥev 1 (8ḤevXII gr) 428 b. Pesaḥ. 49b 358
XḤev/Se 1 (Numb) 422, 423 b. Sanh. 38b 290, 291
34Ṣe 2 (Num) 423 b. Sanh. 89b 32
b. Sanh. 90a 37
Mishna, Talmud, Targumic Texts, and Rabbinic Works b. Sanh. 111b 44, 50
Gen. Rab. 12 b. Šabb. 151b 109
22:7 8 b. Šabb. 119a 496
22:8 8, 341 b. Šabb. 153a 301
22:9 6 b. Sot �ah 14a 15
24:7 304 b. Sukkah 49b 304
48:8–9 22 b. Taʿan. 24b–25a 495
56:1–2 38 b. Yebam. 16b 285
56:2 38
56:4 32 y. Ber. 9:1, 13b 496
56:8 32, 35 y. Meg. 1:71d 425, 429
y. Meg. 1:71c 429
Lev. Rab. 29:10 32, 40
Sop. 2:5 429
Num. Rab. 17:2 32, 35 Sop. 3:10 429
Sefer Torah 2:4 429
Mekilta de Rabbi Ishmael 7:78–82 35 Pesiqta de Rab Kahana 38
Pisḥa 7:79–82, 11:96 40 (Pesiq. Rab. Kah.)
Beshallaḥ 2:173, 4:30–35 40
Mek. Amalek Targum Onqelos (Tg. Onq.) 6, 12, 19
§1 (on Exod 17:8–13) 490 Targum Neofiti (Tg. Neof.) 6, 8, 9, 12, 15, 18,
19, 20, 23
Midr. Tanḥ. Shelaḥ 4:27 32 Targum Jonathan 19, 20
Midr. Tanḥ. Mattot 9:1 32 Targum Pseudo-Jonathan (Tg. Ps.-J.) 8, 9, 11
Midr. Tanḥ. Vayera 4:39, 46 32, 35 Tg. Ps.-J. 22 32
m. ʿAbod. Zar. 2:1 165
m. Ber. 3:1 476 ʾAbot R. Nat. 45 (B) 8
m. ʾAbot 2:5–8 300 Pirqe ʾAbot 1 376
m. ʾAbot 5:3 33 Pirqe ʾAbot 1:1 475
m. Demai 6:8–9 170
m. Meg. 2:2 425 Pirqe R. El. [PRE] 37
m. Miqw. 6:18 231 21 8, 341
m. ʾOhal. 3:7; 5:6–7 478 21–22 6
m. Parah 8:10 230–1 31 33, 38, 40
m. Š abb. 23:5 340
m. Sanh. 2:1 476 Pirqe R. Nathan A19 300
m. Sanh. 4:5 6, 341 Sifra Qidd. 4:12 304
Tanḥ. Ber. 10 340, 341 220 210

Apostolic Fathers
Barn. 195, 196 Aet. 13 213
4:14 190 25–26 213
7:3 39 38 213
16 190 52 213
19:2 111 141 213
146–149 213
1 Clem. 195, 196
13:1 189 Agr. 128–129 213
14:1; 37:1; 43:4 159 88–89 211
44:1–4 188
46:7 189 Anim. 30–65 213
62:1 159
Conf. 27 211
2 Clem. 196 164 213
8:5 189 197–198 205
Did. 195, 196 Congr. 34–38 202

7:1–4 186
8:2 189 Contempl. 10 213
Herm. 195, 196 Deus 24 213

56 211
Ign. 196 65–69 213
Ign. Eph. 7:2; 18:2; 19:1 187 129 213
Ign. Magn. 11 187 150 211
Ign. Trall. 9 186 156 205
Ign. Trall. 9:1–2 187
Det. 33 211
Pol. 196 48–49 5
Pol. Phil. 2 186 69 5
Pol. Phil. 2:3 113 71–77 5
79 5
NT Apocrypha and 92 5
Pseudepigrapha 163 211
3 Cor 192
Ebr. 101 211
Gos. Pet. 5 133
12 136 Fug. 63 211
13–14 133 82 211
16–17, 19 134 110 211
110–112 135
Gos. Thom. 54 113
Gig. 6–8 461
Philo 13 211
Abr. 1–6 202 53 211
20 213
42–54 202 Her. 68 211
69 17 76 205
156 213 85 211
169 31, 33, 35 279 205
Hypoth. 7.1–9 317, 319 139–140, 150, 156, 165, 173 205
7.10 317
Post. 84–88 205
Ios. 1 202 Praem. 1–3 202
1.87 74 11–15 30
32 213 24–51, 57–66 202
210, 231 35 79–84 204
79–97 204
Leg. 1.70 211, 213 79–126 201, 208
1.108 211 79 203, 204
2.22, 55 211 80 204, 206, 208
3.42 211 81–84 204
3.104 205 84 204, 206, 208
3.105 213 85–90 204, 206
3.247.8 283 87 207
91–92 204
Legat. 211 213 91–97 204, 206
93 204
Migr. 9 211 94 204, 205
16 211 95 204, 207
40 213 96–97 204, 206
56 205 98–117 204
56–59 206 98 203, 204
89–93 318 99 209
89 319 99–100 204, 209
93 211 101–103 204, 205
101–104 204
Mos. 1 214 105 204
1.76 202 106 204
1.285–291 201, 205 107 204
1.290 207 108 203, 204, 209
2.2 213 108–109 204, 206
2.33 213 108–112 206
2.45–47 202 108–117 204
2.117–135 135 110 209
2.216 318 110–112 204, 206
111 210
Mut. 12, 88 202 112 210
236–251 205 113–114 204
266 205 115–117 204, 206
118–125 203, 204
Opif. 13 213 118 203
21 213 119 204, 206
69–71 211 120 204, 211
119 213 120–121 211
120 211 121 211
135 210 121–122 204, 211
148 213 123 204
124 204
Plant. 17 213 125 204
28, 73, 94 205 126 204, 205, 211
131 213 163–172 203
168 205 126 202
Prob. 5 213 Virt. 2.212–215 17

80 205 7 209
23 213
Prov. 1.20 213 47–48 205
1.21 213 183–184 205
2.17 213
Josephus
QE 2.19–20 206 Ag. Ap.
2.19 206 1.34–35 357
2.20 206 1.37–28 247
2.118 213 1.37–42 247
1.52 247
QG 1.6 213 2.173–175 300
1.17 5 2.190–219 317, 319
1.53 211 2.218 35, 37
1.70 211 2.218–219 37
2.69 211 2.282 318
4.1 211 8.45–47 414
4.78 211 50; 53; 56 247
4.75 211
4.153 211 Ant. 30, 504
1.4 247
Sacr. 36 213 1.17 247
87 205 1.55–56 5
79 205 1.72–73 461
1.98 36
Sobr. 65 202 1.181 36
1.225 33
Somn. 1.43 211 1.226 40
1.124–125 300 1.231 36
1.126 209 2.228, 231 35
1.138 213 3.161 130
1.139 211 3.191 36
1.147 211 4.54 36
1.148 205 6.25 36
1.168 202 7.157 17
1.179–180 205 7.161–162 17
2.14 213 7.167 17
2.40 209 7.281 17
2.109 211 7.333 40
2.248 205 7.334 36
7.371 169
Spec. 1.1 202 8.118 36
1.84–96 135 10.201 169
1.90 213 10.276–277 201
2.62–63 318 10.280–281 201
2.79–80 169 11.6 10
4.63 213 11.337 201
4.188 211 12.322 201
79, 84 202 13.45; 126 169
14.1 247 6.46–49 37

14.76 264 6.312 452
15.331–341 264 7.253 359
17.206–298 356 7.343 377.343–349 37
17.261–264 356 7.351–357 37
17.271–272 359
17.273–277 359 Greek/Latin
17.278–284 359 Aeschylus, Eum. 98 4
17.295 356
17.300–317 356 Acta Philippi 79.17 285
17.342–344 356
17.354 37 Aelius Dionysius, Ἀττικὰ ὀνόματα, Alphabetic letter
18.1–10 356, 359 omicron, entry 20.1 287
18.14, 16, 18 37
18.23–25 359 Alcinous, Did. 34.1 212
18.63–64 359
18.116–119 224, 228, 232, Ambrose, Exp. Luc. 10.165–165 143
237, 359
19.343–350 261 Anthologia Graeca 8.116.1 289
20.97–99 259 Anthologia Graeca ( Σύνθρονε, in 1.24.p1)
20.102 359 287
20.155–157 248 Anthologiae Graecae Appendix: Epigrammata
20.200 359 sepulcralia, Epigram 208.5 283
20.260 248 Anthologiae Graecae Appendix: Oracula, Epigram
65–69 6 297.5 283
Life 316–366 247 Apocalypsis Joannis: Apocalypsis apocrypha Joannis

(versio tertia), 321, l. 27 286
J.W. 504
1.16 248 Aristophanes, Pax 1075 207
1.408–415 264
1.410 264 Aristotle, Eth. nic. 2.1.1103a 202
1.650 37 Eth. nic. 4.3.16 210
1.670–673 476 Eth. nic. 10.9 1179b 202
2.56 359
2.57–59 359 Ps-Aristotle, Mag. Mor. 2.9.2 210
2.60–65 359 Arrian, Anab. 1, preface 246
2.118 359
2.120 233 Athanasius, Commentarius de templo Athenarum
2.153–154 35 [Sp.], 111, l. 12 284
2.153–158 37 Athanasius, Commentarius de templo Athenarum
2.157 301 [Sp.], fol. 155r, l. 5 284
2.163 37 Athanasius, Homilia in sanctos patres et prophetas
2.165 37 [Sp.], 28.1065, l. 21 286
2.266–270 265 Athanasius, Sermo in nativitatem Christi [Sp.], 28.972,
2.433 359 line 11 284
3.372–376 37
3.409–413 264 Augustine, Civ. 16 460
3.410 265 Serm. Dom. 1 117
4.419–421 225
4.460–465 232 Basilius, Adversus Eunomium (libri 5) 29.760, l. 27 284
5.415–416 74 Basilius, De spiritu sancto 6.15.71 284
Cassius Dio, Roman History frag. 1.2–3; 1.3; Cyril, Fragmenta in sancti Pauli epistulam ad
53.19.66; 73.23 151 Hebraeos, 384, l. 11 284
Cyril, Thesaurus de sancta consubstantiali trinitate,
Catenae (Novum Testamentum): Catena in epistulam 75.493, l. 9 284
ad Hebraeos (catena Nicetae) (e cod. Paris. gr. 238),
310.12 and 577.19 284 Cyrillus, Additamentum ad catechesis illuminandorum
Catenae (Novum Testamentum): Catena in epistulam sextae decimae caput tertium: Catechesis 16.2.8 284
ad Hebraeos (catena Nicetae) (e cod. Paris. gr. 238), Cyrillus, Catecheses ad illuminandos 1–18, 15.22.17
320.24 284 285
Catenae (Novum Testamentum): Catena in epistulam Cyrillus, Commentarii in Joannem 1.374.6 and
ad Hebraeos (catena Nicetae) (e cod. Paris. gr. 238), 2.17.27 284
389, l. 20 284 Cyrillus, Commentarii in Lucam (in catenis)
Catenae (Novum Testamentum): Catena in epistulam 72.672.31; 913.4 284
ad Hebraeos (e cod. Paris. Coislin. 204), 146.6 284 Cyrillus, Epistulae paschales sive Homiliae paschales
Catenae (Novum Testamentum): Catena in epistulam (epist. 1– 30), 77.601, l. 6 284
ad Romanos (typus Monacensis) (e cod. Monac. gr. Cyrillus, Epistulae paschales sive Homiliae paschales
412), 287.1 284 (epist. 1–30), 77.840.38; 852.37; 880.52; and 937.3
Catenae (Novum Testamentum): Catena in epistulam 284
i ad Corinthios (typus Vaticanus) (e cod. Paris. gr. Cyrillus, Expositio in Psalmos 69.1065.42; and
227) 308.9 284 1252.37 284
Catenae (Novum Testamentum): Catena in Lucam Cyrillus, Expositio in Psalmos, 69.997, l. 16 and 1241,
(typus B) (e codd. Paris. Coislin. 23 + Oxon. Bodl. l. 16 284
Misc. 182), 156.24 284 Cyrillus, Quod unus sit Christus (Aubert page), 730.16
Catenae (Novum Testamentum: Catena in Acta 284
(catena Andreae) (e cod. Oxon. coll. nov. 58), 310, Cyrillus, Quod unus sit Christus (Aubert page), 742.29
l. 28 286 and Aubert page], 742.37 284
Cyrillus, Quod unus sit Christus (Aubert page), 771.2
Celsus, Alethes Logos 23 284
Chrysippus, Fragmenta moralia, 671.2 283 Dio Chrysostom, Orat., 12.33.7 286
Chrysostom, In Acta apostolorum (homiliae 1–55), Diodorus Siculus, Bibliotheca historica (lib. 1–20)
60.262, l. 6 285 16.92.5.10 283
Chrysostom, In illud: Apparuit gratia dei omnibus Diodorus Siculus, Bibliotheca historica (lib. 1–20),
hominibus, 22.4 285 3.55.9.5 286
Cicero, De or. 2.62 246 Diogenes Laertius 7.128 209

Rep. 3.33 209 10.144 209
Tusc. 5.47 208
Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Ant. rom. 1.1.2, 4; 1.7.2–4
Clement of Alexandria, Strom. 7.1; 7.10.56 283 146
Dionysius Scytobrachion, Fragmenta (Volume-Jacoby-F
Concilia Oecumenica (ACO): Concilium universale 1a,32,F, fragment), 7.141 286
Ephesenum anno 431, tom. 1.1.2.95.11 and
1.1.6.71.10 284 Ephraem Syrus , Precationes e sacris scripturis
collectae, quarum pleraequae sunt Sancti Ephraim, pro
Cyprian, Unit. eccl. 7 135 iis qui uolunt suam ipsorum, Prayer 8, 351, l. 12
286
Cyril Theol., Commentarii in Joannem, 2.17, l. 7 and Ephraem, Chronicon 647 284
651, l. 22 287
Cyril, Encomium in sanctam Mariam deiparam Epiphanius Scr., Anaphora Graeca (fragmenta) [Sp.],
(homilia diversa 11), 77.1029, l. 42 287 298, l. 28 285
Epiphanius, Ancoratus 19.1.3 284 Gregory of Nazianzus, Liturgia sancti Gregorii [Sp.],
Epiphanius, Homilia in laudes Mariae deiparae [Sp.] 36.704, l. 48 286
43.493, ll. 34 and 52 284 Gregory of Nazianzus, Supremum vale (orat. 42),
Epiphanius, Pan. 72.3 187 36.484, l. 29 286
Epictetus 4.1.164 210 Herodotus, Persian Wars 1.1; 2.3, 4, 19, 24–25, 29,
Etymologicum Magnum (Kallierges page 534, line 19) 32, 44, 99, 104, 113, 118, 147 244
286
Hippolytus, Antichr. 20–29 358
Euripides, Bacch. 1225 35 Haer. 7.22.4 190
Suppl. 273 35 In Cant. 67 148
Noet. 187
Eusebius, Commentaria in Psalmos, 23.1149, l. 19 284
De ecclesiastica theologia, 1.11.5 l. 2 284 Historia Alexandri Magni: Recensio Byzantina poetica,
Demonstratio evangelica 4.15.33–35; 5.3.2, 5, 6 and 8 cod. Marcianus 408, line 3663 283
284 Historia Alexandri Magni: Recensio Byzantina poetica,
Demonstratio evangelica 4.15.39.8; 4.15.42.2; cod. Marcianus 408, ll. 1809–11 283
4.15.64.1; and 5.3.5.6 284 Historia Alexandri Magni: Recensio poetica (recensio
Demonstratio evangelica, 5.19.3.11 284 R), ll 697, 736, and 1238 283
Fragmenta in Lucam, vol. 24, 549, l. 29 284 Historia Alexandri Magni: Recensio α sive Recensio
Hist. eccl. 2.20.2 187 vetusta 1.36.2.3 283
Hist. eccl. 6.12.3–6 192 Historia Alexandri Magni: Recensio α sive Recensio
Onom. 40.1 235 vetusta 1.38.2.2 283
Onom. 58.18–20 221 Historia Alexandri Magni: Recensio α sive Recensio
Praep. ev. 186c 461 vetusta 1.38.3.3 283
Praep. ev. 8.6.1–7.20 317 Historia Alexandri Magni: Recensio α sive Recensio
vetusta 2.22.10 283
Eustathius, In inscriptione titulorum, Fragment 9.1 Historia Alexandri Magni: Recensio α sive Recensio
284 vetusta 2.22.3 and 9 283
Historia Alexandri Magni: Recensio β 2.16.42–43 and
Flavius Claudius Julianus, Εἰς τὴν μητέρα τῶν θεῶν 20.2 16.64 283
(and 7.2) 283
Flavius Claudius Julianus, Εἰς τὸν βασιλέα Ἥλιον πρὸς Historia Monachorum in Aegypto, Vita 8.112 286
Σαλούστιον 22.22 283 Homer, Od. 19.135–136 149
Georgius Syncellus, Ecloga chronographica, 274, l. 25 Irenaeus, Haer. Preface 1 189

283 Haer. Preface 2 189
Haer. 1.10.1 188, 191–2
Gregory from Nazianzus, Contra Julianum Haer 3.3.3 188
imperatorem 1 (orat. 4), 35.604, l. 26 284 Haer 3.4.1 188
Gregory from Nazianzus, De moderatione in Haer 3.4.2 192
disputando (orat. 32), 36.180, l. 18 284 Haer. 3.10.6 85
Gregory from Nazianzus, In assumptionem domini Haer 3.11.8–9 192
nostri Jesu Christi [Sp.], 61.712, l. 28 284 Haer. 4.5.4 39
Gregory from Nazianzus, In Psalmum 50 Haer. 5.25–30 358
[Sp.]: 55.529, l. 10 284
Gregory from Nazianzus, In Psalmum 50 (homilia Isocrates, Antid. 186–8 202
2) [Sp.], 55.583, l. 43 284 Isidor Hymn., Hymni 3.3 287
Gregory from Nazianzus, Oratio de hypapante [Sp.],
60, l. 7 284 Jerome, Jer. Ep. 120, 3 84
Gregory of Nazianzus, Epigrammata 8.116.2 289 Pelag. 2.15 86
Joannes Galenus, Allegoriae in Hesiodi theogoniam, Olympiodorus Diaconus, Commentarii in Job, 307, l.
342.26 and 31 283 20 286
John Chrysostom, Hom. Matt. 15 116 Origen, Cels. 23

John Chrysostom, [Sp.], 61.681, l. 8) Cels. 3.50.13[19] 283
John Chrysostom, In epistulam ad Colossenses Comm. Joel. 6.40 221
(homiliae 1–12), 62.332, l. 35 286 Princ. Preface 2 189
John Chrysostom, In epistulam i ad Corinthios Orphica, Hymn 11.4 283
(homiliae 1–44) 61.341, l. 26 284
John Chrysostom, In Joannem (homiliae 1-88), Philostratus, Vit. Apoll. 1.2.2–3; 1.19.1
59.358, l. 34 284 251
John Chrysostom, In pharisaeum et meretricem [Sp.], Vit. Apoll. 3.38, 39 493
61.728, l. 53 284 Vit. Apoll. 4.20.1–3 491
Vit. Apoll. 4.45 489
John of Damascus, Commentarii in epistulas Pauli
[Dub.], 95.940, l. 32 285 Photius, Bibliotheca Codex 222 286
John of Damascus, Epistula de hymno trisagio, 9.5 285 Bibliotheca Codex 277 283
Julien, Against the Galileans (Contre les Galiléens) 23 Plato, Euthydemus 277d, 7 285
(frag. 52 B–C; frag. 69 B–D; frag. 354 B) Menex. 239a 169
Meno 70a 202
Justin, 1 Apol. 61 187 Resp. 2–5 212
1 Apol. 311 35 9; 328A; 352c 213
Dial. 89–98 187 369–471 212
Dial. 100 189 379b–c, d; 389b; 419–445e; 439d; 468a; 473d;
488B–489c; 492c; 507d–508; 533d; 546b; 554f;
Leo the Great, Sermon 95 117 557c; 576b; 588c; 617 213
Thaet. 176A–B 211
Lexicon Suda, Alphabetic letter pi, entry 1650, l. 17. Tim. 17C–18A 212
31 284 17b 213
18A–B 212
Lucian, How to Write History 5, 7, 8, 24, 27, 32, 34, 18C–19A 212
39, 42, 44, 47, 51, 58, 60, 62, 63 250–1 18c; 22b–23c; 24e, 25c–d; 28b–c; 29a, b; 32c–33b;
Philops. 11 494 33c–d; 35b; 37e, 38b; 39c; 41a–b 213
Peregr. 29.9 283 43A–D 211
75d–e; 90a 213
Marcellus, Fragmenta 110.3 284
Plutarch, Adol. poet. aud. 37A 209
Marinus des Neapolis (Damascius, Vie d’Isidore, Test. Alex. 1 149
141) 24 (frag. 20) Lives 248–9
Quaestiones convivales (612c–748d): Stephanus
Michael Glycas, Annales 611, l. 3 283 page 668B.10 287
Quaestiones convivales (612c–748d): Stephanus
Michael Psellus, Opuscula logica, physica, allegorica, page 679A.4 287
alia, 36.376 287 Stoic rep. 1035c; 1037–8 209
Thes. 1 248
Moschion, Fragment 6.15; also, in Joannes Stobaeus,
Anthologium 1.8.38.16 283 Polybius, Histories 2.56 245
Nonnus, Dion. 46.14–16 286 Posidonius Phil., Fr. 368.46 286

Nonnus, Dionysiaca 48.978 283
Nonnus, Dionysiaca 8.415 283 Preisendanz, Papyri magicae 31c2 and 73.1 287
Pseudo-Codinus, De officiis (e codd Vat. gr. 162 + Tatian, Diatesseron 85, 114, 192
975) 134, l. 25 283
Tertullian, Adv. Jud. 10 39
Pseudo-Macarius, Homiliae spirituales 50 (collectio H) Marc. 3.1; 4.5 189
28.79 286 Pat. 6 39
Pseudo-Macarius, Sermones 64 (collectio B), Homily Praescr. 12, 19 189
26.1.16.4 286
Theodoretus, Eranistes, 157, l. 17 285
Romanus Melodus, Cantica 13.17.3; 44.11.3; 56.1.11;
83.17.4; and 84.1.1 284 Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War 1.113
Romanus Melodus, Cantica 40.11.12 285 35
Romanus Melodus, Cantica dubia 61.23.1 285 History of the Peloponnesian War 1.22 244
Salaminius Hermias Sozomenus, Historia ecclesiastica Virgil, Ecl. 4.22–2 207

7.3.1.3 283
Xenophon, Anab. 7.2.25; 38 169
Scholia in Theocritum, Prolegomenon-anecdote-poem
12.35–37a.2 285 P.Par. 20; 42.1; 48 169
Scholia in Theocritum, Prolegomenon-anecdote-poem PTaur 1.1.20 169
12.35–37a.4 285 PTeb 1.12 169
OCI 138:3; 168:26 169
Seneca, Ep. 75.4; 114.1 208 IG 14:956 169
APF 13:39, 212 169
Sextus Julius Africanus, Epistula ad Origenem, 80, l. 1
Qurʾan
Socrates Scholasticus, Historia ecclesiastica 5.5.8 283 2:130.135 24
4:125 24
Synesius Phil., Hymni 1.600 286 4:163 24
5 341, 342
Stobaeus, Anthologium 1.3.38.16 283 5:31–32 341
6:161 24
Strabo Geographer, Geogr. 10.3.15.5 286
7:172–173 25
Strabo Geographer, Geogr. 10.3.21.18 286
16:123 24
Strabo, Geogr. 267
30:30 24
Suetonius, Claud. 25 179
INDEX ON SUBJECTS
Abel 3–13, 36, 339–44, 346–7, 472–3, 475–6 Aqedah 22, 31, 37–40
Abraham 15–27, 29–40, 58, 78, 80, 155–8, 161, 165– Arabic 45, 47, 49, 85, 114
6, 172, 178–80, 183, 202, 210, 296, 302, 325–7, Aramaic 11, 118, 144, 159, 311, 324–5, 327–8, 387,
339–40, 368, 458, 469–70 390, 392, 398, 422–3, 425, 431, 463, 486
Achaia 156, 168, 175 Aramaic Levi Document 325, 327
Acts of the Apostles 62–3, 75–7, 94, 155–6, 159–60, arch(angel)/Erzengel 9–10, 144, 191, 243, 281, 284–
162–75, 186, 195, 257–75 92, 296–7, 301–2, 325–9, 336, 340, 343, 355,
Adam 7–10, 135, 291, 340–4, 458–60, 462–4, 456–64, 472, 474–7, 509
469, 472–9 archaeology 228, 484–5, 507–8, 511
Additions to Esther 348 Aristeas, Letter of 312, 318–19, 503
Aenon 218, 228–9, 233–7 Aristotle/Aristote 17, 304–5
afterlife 34–9, 45, 181 Armenian 7, 84, 87, 192, 473
Aggadah 339–41 Arrian 246–7, 251
Ahab 182 Asaphpsalmen 403, 408
Akkadian 47 ascension 146–7, 157–8, 173, 191, 287
Alexander Jannaeus 264 Ascension of Isaiah/Ascensio Isaiae 313, 361
Alexander the Great 283 Asia, Roman province 156, 158, 161, 163, 166, 169,
Alexandria 202–3, 266, 305, 319 175, 259
angel of the Lord 261, 275, 474 Assumptio Mosis 353–61
Animal Apocalypse 323–5, 328–9 Assyria 178, 398–9
Animal Vision 324 Athens/Athenians 17, 26, 210, 249–50, 264, 503
anointing 61, 112, 234, 476 atonement 366, 369, 371–3, 375–80
Antioch audience 36, 59, 76–80, 123, 144, 147–50, 157–8,
Pisidia 156, 160–2, 174 160–1, 164–5, 167–8, 172–5, 225, 245, 250,
Syria 156, 159–64, 166–7, 174–5, 258–61, 266– 255, 258, 273–5, 304, 387, 458, 476–9
7, 271–3 Augustine 87, 117, 306, 460, 505
antisemitic 486 Augustus Caesar 264
apocalypse 32
Apocalypse of Weeks 329 Baal 49–52
Apocrypha 29, 31, 91, 93, 194, 295–6, 299–300, 315, Babel, Tour de 16
470, 483, 506 Babylon/Babylonie 15, 18–19, 302, 316, 445, 447,
apocryphal texts 87, 96, 339, 342, 346–9, 405, 457, 492, 494
459, 506 Balaam 5, 12
Apocryphon of Ezekiel 74 baptism 95, 112, 169, 186–7, 217–37, 472, 476–9
Apollo 283 Barnabas 75, 160–6, 174, 271
Apollonius of Tyana 251, 487–92, 495 Barnabas, Epistle of 111, 195–6
apostle(s) 148, 155–7, 160–3, 165–6, 173–4, 188–91, 2 Baruch 296, 302, 313
194, 196, 261, 270, 273, 286–7, 289, 451, Basilides of Alexandria 190
485, 497 Bauer, Bruno 484–5
Apostolic Council 155–6, 159, 162–4, 167–8, 171–2 beatitude(s) 107–24, 150
Apostrophe to Judah 407 Beelzebul 50, 360
Apostrophe to Zion 407, 410, 412–13 Belial 43, 46, 50, 52, 314, 414, 451, 463
562 Index on Subjects
Ben Sira, Book of (or Jesus Sirach) 30, 34, 119, circumcision/circoncision/Beschneidung 16, 19–22,
296, 381 163–71, 179, 181, 231, 316–18, 354, 368
Biblia Hebraica 400, 505 class 122–3, 190, 314, 366
birds 317, 339–49 1 Clement 195–6
Blake, William 457 2 Clement 196
blessing 59, 69–70, 78–80, 108–9, 113, 119–21, 148, Clement of Alexandria/Clemens Alexandrinus 84,
152, 180, 202–14, 232, 300, 327, 346, 365, 367 283, 355
blind 109–10, 149, 180–1, 344, 445, 447, 493–4 Clement of Rome 123, 188–9
Book of Abraham 469, 480 Code of Hammurabi 203
Book of Dreams 325, 328 Codex
Book of Enoch 457 Amiatinus 115
Book of Giants 324, 331, 461 Bezae 87, 115
Book of Mormon 469–70 Fuldensis 85
Book of Moses 469–80 Old Latin Bobiensis 84, 86
Book of Watchers 325, 328–9, 461, 464, 510 Sinaiticus 84, 87, 190, 484
Bronze Serpent 370 Syriac Cyrus Sinaiticus 84
Bruce, James 457, 509 Vaticanus 84, 87, 484
Buddha 488 Vercellensis 115
burial 7, 146, 149, 317, 339–44, 347, 473, 476–9 Washingtonianus 86
Byzantine period 221–2, 225–7, 234–5, 266 Community Rule (1QS) 233, 445–6
Byzantine text tradition 89 confession of sin 231, 365, 368, 371, 373, 376–80
Confession(s) 129, 185, 187, 194, 364
caesar 262, 268, 272, 484 Constantine 116, 190, 194, 196
Caesarea Maritima 156, 159–60, 167, 175, 257–75 Constantinople 93, 116
Caiaphas, high priest 121 Coptic 86–7, 93, 113–16, 473
Cain 3–13, 339–49, 460, 472–3, 475–6 Corinth 162, 167–8, 175, 188, 272, 451
Calvin, John 117 1 Corinthians 451
canon formation 185–96, 312, 471, 483, 504–6 3 Corinthians 192
canon law 91 Council of Trent 89, 506
canonical criticism 83 Counter-Reformation 505, 507
Cappadocia 158 covenant 52, 61, 69, 72, 74, 177–8, 180, 205, 233,
Cassodorius 504 300, 314, 365, 368–70, 475
Celsus/Celse 23, 26, 484 Abrahamic 165, 178, 368
charity 109, 300, 305 Davidic 364
children 10, 44, 60, 155, 168, 179–80, 206, 212–13, New 13, 446–7, 451
233, 285, 296, 300, 317, 326, 335, 340, 364, creator 35, 38, 327–8, 456, 459–60
367, 458, 473, 477 Creed(s) 185–96
Christ (see also Messiah) 39–40, 75–6, 86, 111, 117, Apostles’ 187, 192, 195
130, 135, 138, 146–7, 151, 159, 162, 168–9, Nicene 188–9, 194, 284–5
171–2, 179–80, 182–3, 185–8, 191, 194, 221, Roman 195
266, 268, 270–3, 275, 281, 284–6, 288–92, Cyprian 115, 135, 286
305–6, 314, 320, 340, 346–7, 450, 477 Cyprus 156, 164, 175, 262
Christ hymn 147 Cyrene 158, 164, 245
Christian origins 29, 67, 444, 483, 502, 505, 510, 513 Cyril of Alexandria 284, 286
christology 127, 131, 137, 139, 289, 306
chronography 339, 342 Damascus Document (CD) 169, 316, 445–8, 451, 453
Chrysippus 209, 283 Damascus/Damas 21, 75, 79, 157–9, 167–8, 173, 175,
Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints 469, 259–60, 447
472, 476 Daniel 43, 201, 303, 314, 348, 445, 449, 451–2, 455
Church of Rome 505 David 20, 40, 56–64, 112, 131, 161, 284, 377–9
Cicero 209, 243, 246 city of 260, 273
Cilicia 156, 163, 166, 259 covenant 364
Index on Subjects 563
dynasty 365, 375 Eschatological Admonition 329

David’s Compositions 405, 407–13 Eschatological Hymn 407
Davidisierung 409–13 Essene/Essener 35, 170, 181, 233, 297, 301–
Davidpsalmen 403, 408–9, 413 2, 411–12
Day of Atonement 376, 449 ethic(s) 107, 121, 186, 202, 210, 295–307,
Dead Sea Scrolls (see also Qumran) 29, 31, 43, 51–2, 316, 319–20
109, 169, 290, 295–6, 299, 314, 316, 318, Ethiopic 47, 49, 86, 461, 504
324, 387, 360, 414, 416, 427–31, 433, 443–8, Eusebius 84, 221, 235, 284, 461
455–6, 463 Eve 7–10, 341–4, 459–60, 472–9
demon/Dämon 44, 50, 64, 112, 328, 460, 491–3, 496 evil 9–12, 50–2, 69–73, 79, 110–11, 133, 268, 295–
Derbe 160–1, 174, 272 304, 326–8, 347, 372, 458, 464
Deutero-Pauline epistles 306 exile/Exil 38, 161, 179–80, 204, 206, 302, 316, 354,
Deuteronomist 16, 302, 364–80 365, 368–70, 445–7, 449, 459, 464
Deuteronomy, Book of 69, 201–3, 205, 364, 366–8, exodus 10, 30, 40, 131, 452
372, 374–6 Exodus, Book of 74, 206
devil/Teufel 6, 46, 50, 343–7, 354–5, 360, 459, 473 exorcism/Exorzismus 76, 229, 360, 416, 490–2
diaspora 17–22, 218, 316, 318–20, 369 Ezekiel, Book of 38, 79, 374, 445
Diatessaron 85, 114, 192 4 Ezra 296, 302, 504
Didache 189, 195–6 Ezra 302
Didymus the Blind 87
Diodorus Siculus 286 fasting 232, 377, 380
Dionysius of Halicarnassus 243, 246 fathers
disciple(s) 9, 24, 61, 63, 76–7, 79, 85, 108, 110, 112, apostolic 485
114, 119, 121, 123–4, 138, 143, 146–9, 155–69, church 87, 118, 188–96, 285, 503
172–5, 185, 191, 229, 231, 234, 252–3, 262, firstborn 171, 286, 289
290, 328, 496 Flood, the (diluvian) 9, 12, 281, 326–9, 460, 463–
discipline 69, 364, 370–81 4, 504–5
divine intervention 298–301, 304 forgiveness 10, 77–80, 161, 185–7, 193, 229, 231,
Divino Afflante Spiritu 91 366–7, 371, 373, 377–80
dove(s) 232, 342–4, 346–7 Frankenstein 456–60, 464
dream(s) 8–10, 323–5, 327, 329, 333, 374, 460 Freer Logion 85–6
Drews, Arthur 485–97 freewill 458
education 107, 122–3, 190, 511 Gabriel, angel 55–9

Egypt(ians) 10, 38, 40, 48, 70, 73, 112, 115, 158, Galatians/Galates, epistle 20–2, 183, 189, 305
161, 182, 221, 230, 244, 259, 316, 319–20, 370, Galilee 75, 112, 122–4, 147, 228–9, 232, 234,
484, 489 237
elder(s) 61, 155–6, 162–3, 165–6, 265, 287–8, Ge‘ez 323–4, 330–1
290, 317 Gemara 109
Elijah 40, 133–4, 221, 224, 226–7, 444, 490 Gemeindelieder 416
Elisha 79, 222, 224, 230, 232, 490, 495 Genesis Rabbah 35, 38
Elizabeth (Luke’s Gospel) 58, 60, 75 gentile(s) 61, 79–80, 109, 112, 155–72, 174, 179–83,
Enlightenment 507–12 254, 260, 262, 264–74, 291, 316, 318–19,
1 Enoch 6, 119, 287, 296, 302, 312–13, 323, 325, 380, 451
329–31, 455, 457, 505, 509 geography 257–9, 263, 267–9, 271, 275
2 Enoch 119, 287 Georgian 7, 84, 87, 342, 473
3 Enoch 287–8, 290 ger (or sojourner) 18–20, 169–70
Enoch 3, 36, 281–2, 285–6 Giants 460–4
Enoch, Epistle of 329 gnostic(ism) 6, 9, 190–1, 289, 292, 295
Enochic Judaism 281 God-fearers 161, 165, 170, 179
Ephesus 162, 167–9, 175, 231, 259, 272 Godwin, William 456–8
Erasmus 117, 502–3 Golden Rule 296, 299–300, 303, 306
Good Shepherd 137, 144 Iconium 160–2, 167–8, 174–5

Gospel of John 76, 87–9, 94, 98, 109, 115, 127–8, iconography 348–9
133, 135–6, 144, 146–7, 190, 217, 225, 254, Ignatius of Antioch 123, 187, 192
306, 328, 444, 488 Ignatius, Letters of 196
Gotland 345–8 immortality 7, 36, 44, 191, 201, 209–10, 213
Great Commission 85, 95 Irenaeus 85, 188–96
Greco-Roman/Gréco-Romain 15, 22, 26, 251 Isaac 12, 16, 21–3, 29, 31–2, 34–40, 178, 202,
Greek New Testament 89, 117, 502 296, 368
Gregorius of Nazianzus 284, 286 Isaiah Scroll 397
Isaiah, Book of 79, 129, 177–8, 207, 387–9, 395,
halakha/halakhic 18, 20 399–400, 445, 448, 493
Hannah, Samuel’s mother 38, 58–60 Ishmael/Ismaël 16, 21, 23, 32
Harnack, Adolf von 191 Israel(ite) 10, 13, 29, 35, 38, 40, 45, 52, 60–4, 69–70,
Hasidim 412 74–5, 79–80, 119, 122, 131, 157–61, 169–73,
Hasmoneans/Hasmonéens/Hasmonäer 25, 264, 298, 177–83, 186, 206–8, 213–14, 224, 229–30, 248,
303, 364, 374, 378, 380, 412–13 282, 286, 289, 296, 300–2, 312, 318–19, 326–7,
Hebrew Bible/Hebräische Bibel (see also Old 354–6, 360–1, 364–9, 374, 376, 379, 412, 446–
Testament) 7, 44, 46, 48, 51–2, 69, 74, 109, 111, 8, 469, 476, 478, 485, 507
115, 119–20, 123, 169–71, 190, 195, 247, 292, modern 507, 512
303, 306, 313, 387, 391, 403–4, 406, 433, 445, Italian scholarship 501–13
451, 503, 505
Hebrew/hébraïque language 10–11, 18, 47–8, 50, 52, Jacob 24, 135, 178, 202, 207, 292, 296, 302, 327,
67, 70, 72–4, 91, 109, 111, 115, 118, 128, 136, 340, 368, 476
159, 169, 178–9, 183, 207, 282, 285, 287, 311, James, brother of Jesus/Jacques le Justes 21, 163,
314, 364, 367–8, 374, 378, 387–9, 391, 393, 165–6, 171, 174, 187
400, 422–3, 425, 427, 431, 449, 458, 473–4, James, son of Zebedee 76, 156, 160, 174, 252, 261
478, 486, 503–8 James/Jacques, epistle 22, 96, 109, 120
Hebrews, people 157, 159, 173, 181 Jason of Cyrene 245
Hebrews/Hébreux, epistle 13, 22, 29–40, 214 Jeremiah, Book of 69, 79, 370
Hebron 16, 234–5 Jeroboam 182
Hellenism/-izer 296, 314 Jerome 50, 84, 86, 115, 502, 505–6
Hellenists 159, 173, 260 Jerusalem 15, 19, 24, 40, 74–6, 78–9, 121, 135, 155–
Herod Agrippa I 261, 268, 271, 274–5 70, 173–5, 182, 224–5, 227, 229, 234, 257–61,
Herod Agrippa II 79, 247, 262, 274 265–75, 364, 366, 373, 374, 376–9, 393, 410–
Herod Antipas 164, 224, 228, 237, 355 13, 445–6, 452, 504
Herod the Great 264, 266, 354–9 church in 160, 162–3, 165–70, 173–5, 273
Herodotus 243–4, 250 Council of 306
Hesychius 282 Fall of 353, 364, 378, 406, 446, 452, 504
Himmelfahrt des Moses 353 New 288
Hippolytus of Rome 148, 187, 190 Jesus
Historical Positivism 484 historical/historischer 107, 113, 118–19, 121–2,
historiography 241–55, 484 124, 305, 359, 484, 510–12
Holy Spirit 39, 63, 90, 95, 108, 110–12, 115–16, movement 107, 114, 118, 121–3, 259, 273, 443–
120–1, 137, 146–8, 162, 165, 169–70, 182, 187, 4, 450–3
191, 195, 232, 242, 260, 271, 273, 275, 284, of Nazareth 359, 416, 451, 484, 485
291, 327, 446 research 83, 122
Holy Spirit Greek 242 Jesus Seminar 121
human responsibility 296–304 Jewish mystics 289–92
Humanism 501, 503 Job, Book of 9, 32, 72
humility/humiliation 57, 59, 61, 109–10, 116–17, Joel, Book of 63
253, 377, 380 Johannine material 87–8, 127, 129–31, 134, 138,
Hymn to the Creator 406–8 143–50, 225, 229
2 John 192, 196 of Christ 306

3 John 192, 196 of Moses (Loi de Moïse) 12, 17–26, 30, 159, 161,
John Chrysostom 116, 283–6 165, 180–2, 201–4, 209, 297, 300, 302, 314,
John of Damascus 285 316–20, 366–7, 372, 374, 443, 446, 471,
John the Baptist/Johannes der Täufer 60, 79, 112, 161, 474–5
169, 217–37, 359, 444 of nature 204, 209, 296, 300
John, author of Revelation 242 Lehrer der Gerechtigkeit 416
John, son of Zebedee 63, 252 Lehrerlieder 406, 416
Joppa 158–60, 173–4, 259–60, 269–70 Leo the Great 117
Jordan River 217–37 leper(s) 109–10, 230
Valley 217–18, 222, 228, 233–6 Leviticus, Book of 11, 366–8, 373–6, 379–80, 480
Joseph and Aseneth 313, 318 Libya 158
Joseph, husband of Mary 58, 91, 112 Liesveltbijbel 118
Joseph, son of Jacob 10, 12, 38, 74, 135, 156–8, 173, Life of Adam and Eve 3, 6–7, 12, 313, 471
202, 285, 318, 476 linguistics 44, 47–8, 50, 74, 92, 155, 159, 282, 459
Josephus/Josèphe 5–6, 12, 17, 29–31, 35–7, 39–40, literacy 122–3
74, 130, 135, 169, 201, 224–5, 228, 232–3, 237, Lives of the Prophets 313
243, 247–8, 251, 261, 263, 265–6, 268, 295, Livy 243, 246
297, 299–302, 311, 317–19, 356–7, 359, 452, Logos 284–5, 289
461, 503–4, 507–8, 512 Lord’s Day 180
Joshua, Book of 433 Love Command 299–300, 303–4, 306
Joshua/Josua 57, 354–5 Lucian of Samosata 494–5
jubilee periods 445, 449, 452 Lucianic version 374
Jubilees/Jubilés, Book of 4–6, 11, 16, 30–4, 40, 325–8 Luke-Acts 55–63, 67– 80, 147, 165, 186, 257–9, 261,
Judah, kingdom/region 61, 445, 451 264, 267, 305–6
Jude, epistle/Judasbrief 12, 192, 196, 355 Luke, Gospel of 56, 58–64, 67–80, 87–8, 91, 107,
Judea(n)/Judéen/Judäa 16–26, 156, 158–65, 174, 188, 109, 113–15, 117–21, 133–4, 159, 187, 190–2,
259, 261–2, 264, 268, 355, 406 232, 252–5, 450
Desert 233, 422, 425, 427–9, 443, 483 Luther, Martin 86, 96, 117–18, 178, 403, 406,
Judges, Book of 433 503, 506
Judith, Book of 30, 348 Luther’s Bible 118
Jülicher, Adolf 486–7 Lycaonia 156
Julius Caesar 243, 249 Lystra 160–1, 167–8, 174–5
Justin Martyr 123, 187, 189–90, 461
1 Maccabees 30, 32, 297, 314
kashrut 165, 171, 179, 318 2 Maccabees 35, 37, 245, 251, 297, 314
King James Version 86, 89–90, 94, 97, 101, 108, 118, 3 Maccabees 93
178, 470 4 Maccabees 13, 93
kingdom of God/Königreich Gottes 112–13, 122, 182, Maccabees/Makkabäer 297, 303, 354
290, 305–6, 354, 360–1, 450, 452 Macedonia 156, 259
kingdom of heaven 107–8, 111–15, 117, 119–20, macranthropus 290
124, 477 Magnificat, Mary’s 58–62
kinship 9, 30, 155, 157–8, 160, 163, 166–7, 172 Mailänder Text 354
Koine Greek 123, 242, 282, 485 Manasseh, king 182–83, 375
Korachpsalmen 403, 408 Marcion(ites) 189–91
Korah’s rebellion 10, 12 Mark, Gospel of 76, 84, 88–9, 93–9, 101–3, 109,
Koran/Coran 24–5, 339, 341 115, 124, 133–4, 232, 252–5, 448, 484, 488,
491–3, 496
Latin 7, 17, 87, 95, 101, 108, 114–16, 143, 178, 246, martyr(dom)/Martyrium 4, 12–13, 29–30, 33, 35–7,
344, 471, 473, 502–8 39, 303, 355, 358–9
Laurence, Richard 457–8, 510 Marx, Karl 484
law 182, 203, 246, 270, 477–8, 511 Mary Magdalene 85, 103, 143–52
Mary, mother of Jesus 55–65, 75, 91, 111–12, mythicism 484–6

187, 348
Masada 295, 425, 427, 429, 443 Nathan 56–7, 378
Masoretic Text (MT) (masoretisch/nichtmasoretisch/ Nazareth 121, 232
protomasoretisch) 46, 387, 400, 404, 406–7, 427, Nebo, Mount 224
433, 503 Nehemiah 302
Mastema 32, 34, 40, 327 Nephilim (see also Giants) 457, 460, 464
Matthew, Gospel of 76, 78, 91, 95, 107, 109–21, Nicodemus 290–1
133–5, 146, 187, 190, 192, 228, 232, 252–5, Nicodemus, Gospel of 348
305, 496, 512 Noah/Noé 19, 24, 3259, 469, 472
meal 340, 373–4, 495 noble death 138
Mediterranean coast 260 nomen sacrum 111
Sea 257
world 124, 258, 269, 272–3, 275, 282 Octavian 264
Melchizedek/Melchisédech 17, 290, 343, 449, 469 Old Greek (OG) 3, 5–7, 10–11, 428
mercy 30, 61, 64, 69, 72, 79, 221, 247, 300, 342, Olympiodorus, deacon 286
365, 369, 405 oppression 60–2, 109, 113, 204, 380, 450, 460, 510
Mesopotamia 124, 158 oral tradition(s) 84, 343
Messiah/Messie (see also Christ) 444–52 Origen/Origène 23, 84, 123, 189, 193, 221, 355
of Aaron 446–8 Orphic Hymns 283
Davidic 57, 445
era 40, 366, 369, 373–4 Paleja 342, 344–5, 347–8
expectations 55–6, 61–4, 112, 185, 296, 301, 451 Palestine 10, 15–22, 119, 121–2, 257–8, 268, 273,
of Israel 446–8 486, 490
Jesus 21, 156, 164, 166, 180, 183, 185, 207, 314, Pamphylia (or Pamphilia) 156, 158
451, 491 Pan 283
suffering 78, 129–30, 138, 452 Papias 88, 123
text(s) 207, 445 parable(s) 29, 35–6, 39–40, 107, 112, 304, 486–7
trait(s) 290 Parables of Enoch 122
Messianic Apocalypse 120 Paradise Lost 458–64, 472
metaphor 38, 47, 69, 74–5, 77–8, 109, 117, 131, 180, Parousia 451
211, 329, 379, 457 passion narrative(s) 127, 130, 137–8, 161, 191
Metatron 281–92 Passover 40, 121
Michael, archangel/Erzengel 9–10, 355, 462, 473–7 Paul/Paulus 15, 18, 20–2, 26, 64, 75–6, 79–80, 92,
midrash(im) 19, 31–2, 38 109, 120, 123, 156, 158–71, 173–5, 177–83,
Milton, John 457–64, 471 185–7, 189, 191, 193, 195, 206, 258–63, 267–
miracle(s) 23, 149, 166, 261, 487–97 75, 289, 305–6, 320, 361, 444, 451–2, 512
Mishnah 119 peace 62, 203–7, 212–13, 237, 449, 462, 497
Mithras cult 169, 266, 283 peasant(s) 122, 124, 347
Modernism 512 Pentateuch/Pentateuque (see also Torah; law of Moses)
monotheism/monothéisme 23–5, 289, 316–19 26, 202–3, 210, 342, 366, 377, 380, 433, 475–6
Montanists 191 Pentecost, festival 63, 157–9, 173, 260, 273
morality 74, 79–80, 88, 210, 213, 231, 295–305, 316, Pentecostalism 94–5
366, 373, 375–80, 456–7, 484 Peraea 222, 224, 237
Moses/Moïse 12, 17–26, 36–40, 57, 73, 135, 161, pesharim 214, 407, 451
163, 165, 168, 173, 201–2, 214, 224, 290–1, Pesher Habakkuk (1QpHab) 450–1
302, 304, 316–17, 325–7, 354–5, 444–7, 452, Peshitta 6, 114
470, 473–80 2 Peter 192, 196
seat of 181 Peter 58, 63, 76, 78–80, 100–103, 114, 138, 157–60,
murder 4–13, 121, 341–2, 346–7, 456, 464, 472–3 163, 165–6, 171, 173–4, 186–7, 229, 253–5,
myth 52, 250, 290, 344, 456–61, 463, 476–7, 479, 261–2, 268, 270, 273–4, 485, 496
484–7, 490 Peter, Gospel of 133–4, 136
Pharisees 12, 88, 112, 123, 165, 181, 183, 231, 297, 296–8, 301–3, 366, 373–75, 433, 443–52,
302, 357 469–71, 490
Philippians, Epistle to the (Polycarp) 113 false 45
Philo of Alexandria 5–6, 11, 17, 29, 35, 74, 135, 169, proselyte(s) 15–16, 18–23, 26, 158–59, 161, 165,
201–14, 283, 295, 299, 303, 311, 317–20, 461, 170–1, 231
503, 507 prostitutes 109
Philostratus, the Athenian 251, 488–9 Protestant Reformation 93, 98, 178, 194, 505–6
Phoenicia 163–4, 174, 264 Protoevangelium of James 348
Phrygia 158, 167, 175 Psalmenhandschriften 403–16
Pisidia 156 Psalmensammlungen 406–8, 416
Plato(nism) 17, 169, 201, 209–14, 456, 494 Psalms of Solomon 364–6, 373, 378, 380
Plea for Deliverance 407, 409 Psalms, Book of 58, 131, 375–6, 403–16, 415
Plutarch 242, 249–50, 287, 459 Psalter (see also Psalms) 403–13
pneumatology 306 Pseudepigrapha 29, 31, 46, 119, 295–6, 299–300,
Polybius 243, 245–6 311–13, 315, 320, 344, 469–71, 480, 483, 485,
Polycarp 113 501, 504
Polycarp, Letter of 196 Pseudo-Philo 16
Pontius Pilate 186–8, 192, 195 punishment 5, 8, 59, 69, 72–3, 288, 316, 340, 364,
Pontus 158 367–9, 373–4, 379–80, 445, 463
poor, the 108–24, 286, 316, 371 purification 229–31, 236, 366, 375–80
Popes purity/impurity 145, 170, 182, 229–31, 270, 315,
Clement XIV 509 340, 366, 373, 375, 377, 379–80, 478
Damascus I 115
Nicholas 502 Quirinius 356, 359
Paul VI 93 Qumran 17, 43, 52, 109, 169, 181, 207, 214, 233,
Pious VI 508 299, 305, 315, 320, 391, 399, 403–4, 406, 410–
Pius V 506 16, 425–30, 433, 443–4, 447, 461, 463
Sixtus IV 504
Porphyry 484 rabbi(nic)/rabbinique 6, 12, 15, 18–20, 25, 44, 50,
poverty (material and spiritual) 107, 109–10, 113, 67, 119, 122, 156, 159, 164–5, 170–1, 181, 183,
116–17, 119–24, 204, 300, 305 230, 288, 290–2, 297–8, 300, 302, 304–5, 315,
Prayer of Joseph 292 320, 339–40, 425, 427, 429, 444, 475, 478,
prayer(s) 36, 38, 44, 57, 63, 120, 202, 208, 231–2, 486–8, 490, 495–7, 503, 507
323–9, 334, 367, 369, 371–2, 376, 379–80, race 3, 12, 190–1, 210, 460, 462–3
405, 496–7 Rachel 340
Lord’s 189 raven(s) 341–3, 346
penitential 363–6, 368, 380 reception history 349, 455, 457
priest(s) 30, 59, 121, 159, 230 244, 327, 365–6, 368, redemption 444, 448, 450, 458, 469, 472
373–6, 379–81, 411, 413, 445, 476, 479 Reitzenstein, Richard 494–6
Abyssinian 505 remnant 178–9, 183, 328, 333, 445
heavenly 449 Renaissance 502–3, 509, 512
high priest 121, 130, 135, 137, 290, 292, 367, repentance 67–80, 182–3, 192, 224, 229, 231, 233,
374–5, 378–80 286, 306, 365–6, 368–9, 371–3, 378, 380, 469
Italian 510 restoration 69, 109, 182, 203–4, 206–7, 365, 368–70,
Jesuit 508 373, 378–80, 479
Latter-day Saint 479 resurrection 7, 30, 35–40, 75, 91, 122, 143–52, 161,
Messianic 447 182, 185–7, 191–3, 195, 320, 447, 473,
wicked high priest 380, 444 476–77
procreation 204, 209, 212 Revelation, Book of/Johannesoffenbarung 90, 109,
prophecy 90, 262, 445–8, 452 120, 192, 289, 360, 447, 455
prophet(s) 12–13, 29, 36, 39, 63, 74, 78–80, 134, revelation(s) 24, 26, 269, 287, 298–301, 304, 320,
162, 187, 190–1, 206, 224, 229–30, 232, 262, 378, 469–75, 480, 497
righteousness 3–4, 30, 32, 69, 86, 113, 181, 300, Sermon on the Plain 114, 120, 123
305–6, 316, 325, 328, 335, 337, 364–5, 379, 447 serpent(s) 6, 9, 11, 206–7, 459, 473
ritual/rituel 3, 7, 26, 50, 145, 170, 222, 229–31, Servant Song 112
290, 300, 314–15, 317, 320, 366, 377–8, 380, Seth 6–7, 460, 464, 472–3, 475, 477, 479
472, 474–80 Seventy Weeks 445, 448–9, 451–2
Roman Catholic Church 91–3, 505–6 Shelley, Mary 456–8, 460, 464
Roman empire 116, 122–3, 190, 274 Shepherd of Hermas 195–6
Romans 121, 248, 251, 298, 303, 316, 450–2, 504 shepherd(s) 109, 203, 371, 448
Romans/Romains, epistle 17, 20, 22, 179–80, Shiur Qomah 287, 291
183, 305 Sibylline Oracle (III) 206, 304, 316, 319
Rome 114, 156, 158, 167–8, 175, 179–80, 183, 185, sick 68, 109–10, 494
202, 250, 259, 261–6, 270–1, 274–5, 489, 502, Simeon (Luke’s Gospel) 60, 62–3
504–5, 507, 509, 511 sin 7, 9, 36, 68–9, 78–9, 86, 182, 229, 232, 290–1,
Rufinus, translator 195, 504 300, 326, 329, 333, 364–5, 367–8, 370, 373,
375–80, 477
sabbath 40, 128, 133, 170, 179–80, 316–18, 449 sin-punishment ideology 367–68
sacrament(s) 130, 143, 306 Sinai, Mount 39–40, 290, 316, 473–5
sacrifice 8, 11, 13, 16, 31–2, 34–40, 130, 170, 250, slave(s) 55–65, 76 109, 122–4, 253–4, 300, 303,
287, 305, 365–7, 371, 373–80, 469, 472, 475–8 305–6, 451, 491, 494
Sadducees 121, 231, 297, 302 Smith, Joseph 469–80
Sahidic 115–16 Socrates 208, 210, 212–13
Sallust 243, 246 Solomon/Salomo 368, 371, 376–7, 414, 416
salvation 60, 62, 64, 100–3, 159, 164, 177, 180–1, Son of David 40
186, 188, 191, 328, 342, 369, 372, 379–80, 449 Son of God 64, 89, 185–6, 191, 282–3, 288–9,
Samaria 156, 163–4, 234, 259, 355 477
Samaritan Pentateuch 6 Son of Man 291
Samaritan/Samaritain 19, 24, 26, 76, 109, 157, 164– soul 4–6, 33, 36–8, 51, 58, 61, 68, 74, 96, 116, 120,
5, 174 201, 204–5, 209–11, 249, 305, 368–9, 450,
1 Samuel 60, 433 477, 497
2 Samuel 433–42 spirit(s) 3–4, 6, 58, 63–4, 75–6, 86, 90, 108–24, 128,
Samuel 57–61, 328 133, 137–8, 210, 232, 326–7, 335, 449–50, 464,
Sanhedrin 167, 175, 253 476–7, 491–3
Sarah 34, 58, 340 spiritualization 108, 113–18
Satan (see also devil) 50, 80, 86, 275, 344, 360, 451, Stoics 208–9
456–60, 463–4 substitute 147, 375, 378
Satanic School 457 Suffering Servant 448
Saul (Paul) 156–9, 162, 164, 167 173, 175, 258 symbol(s) 39, 130, 135, 137, 202, 229, 257–9, 267,
Saul, king 57, 60–1, 69, 73, 378, 416 269, 271–3, 275, 287, 292, 318–19, 348, 456,
science fiction 455–64 464, 491–2, 505, 511
scribe(s) 9, 13, 85, 88–9, 181, 381, 387–8, 400, 428, synagogue(s) 13, 15, 18–20, 25, 160–2, 169, 174,
470, 472 179, 265–6, 315, 380, 506
Sea of Galilee 217, 222, 224 Synoptic Gospels 37, 76–7, 121, 133–4, 136, 138,
Second Isaiah 112 144, 147, 149, 195, 217, 224, 242, 253–4, 451
Second Vatican Council 91, 512–13 Syria 156, 162–3, 166, 225, 260, 264, 267
Sefer Hekhalot 287 Syriac Orthodox Church 114
Semitic 44–9, 134 Syriac/syriaque 17, 46, 84, 87, 113–16, 376, 471
Separated Gospels 114
Septuagint (LXX) 35, 56–8, 68–77, 109–10, 128, 169, taboo 43–4, 46–52
171, 177–8, 204, 207, 210, 287, 291–2, 317, Tacitus 243, 246
329, 364, 366, 370, 364, 368, 370, 372, 374, talmid 156
376–7, 404, 406, 423, 433, 478, 503, 505 Talmud 50, 109, 119, 287–8, 429
Sermon on the Mount 107–8, 123, 304 Tatian 85, 114, 192
Teacher of Righteousness 289–90, 443, 445, type 4, 15, 22, 39, 149, 445
447, 450–1
Temple Scroll 425 Unleavened Bread, Festival of 40, 261
temple(s) 251
heavenly 287–8, 292 Vatican 504, 510–12
Greco-Roman 266 Vespasian 225, 247, 452
Jerusalem 38, 40, 58, 78, 121, 149, 157, 173, 190, Vetus Latina 115
254, 264–5, 292, 317, 365–6, 368, 371, 373, Vulgate 50, 89–91, 114–15, 502–3, 508
375, 378–80, 408, 410–13, 429, 452, 504
Latter-day Saint 469, 472, 478 Wallfahrtspsalmen 403, 408
Tertullian 115, 123, 189 War Scroll (1QM) 120
Testament of Abraham 16, 75, 319 wealth 107, 116, 118–19, 121–3, 203–4, 209, 212–
Testament of Job 319 13, 265, 300, 305, 345
Testaments of Twelve Patriarchs 122, 313–14, 319, 485 Weiss, Johannes 261–2, 488–96
Tetragrammaton (see also YHWH) 291 wisdom 12, 30, 33, 112, 124, 210, 283, 296–305,
textual criticism 83–4, 89–90, 94–6, 99, 387, 400, 501 327, 336, 444, 447, 450, 504
textualism 84 Wisdom of Solomon 12–13, 30, 296, 319
1 Thessalonians 96, 320, 451 women 35–6, 59, 62, 92, 109, 133, 143, 162, 212,
Thomas 143–4, 148–52 283, 306, 456, 460, 462, 493
Thomas, Gospel of 77, 113, 120
Thucydides 243–6, 250, 422 Yachad 443
Titus, emperor 247, 452 YHWH (see also Tetragrammaton) 16, 20, 46, 49,
Titus, Paul’s companion 165 51–2, 290, 414–16
Tobit, Book 348
Torah (see also Old Testament) 5, 21, 25, 37–38, 109, Zechariah, Book 448
124, 165, 182, 231, 300, 304, 314, 316–17, 443, Zechariah, father of John the Baptist 58–60
446–7, 450–1, 475, 503 Zeus 24, 26, 283, 286
Tyndale, William 118 Zion 40, 377, 393, 410–13, 449

Fountains of Wisdom in Conversation With James H. Charlesworth (Gerbern S. Oegema (Editor) Etc.) (Bibis - Ir)

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FOUNTAINS OF WISDOM

First published in Great Britain 2022

Cover design: Charlotte James

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

ISBN: HB: 978-0-5677-0127-5

Typeset by Newgen KnowledgeWorks Pvt. Ltd., Chennai, India

Part 1 Hebrew Bible and New Testament

1 The Interpretation of Genesis 4:10 in Early Jewish Literature 3

2 Abraham et l’abrahamisme: Mythe ou réalité? 15

3 Hebrews, the Aqedah, and Early Scriptural Interpretation 29

4 The Etymology of ‫ בליעל‬Once Again: A Case of Tabooistic Deformation?  43

5 Just What We Need: Another Allusion in Luke 1? 55

6 Repentance and Turning as a Unified Motif in Luke-Acts 67

8 Reconsidering the Poor: A Fresh Translation of Matthew 5:3 107

9 Christology in John’s Crucifixion Quotations 127

Part 2 Greco-Roman and Jewish World

14 When Ontology Meets Eschatology: A Platonized Reading of Deuteronomy 28:1–14 201

15 On John the Baptist at the Jordan River: Geohistorical and Archaeological

16 Greco-Roman and Jewish Historiography as Backdrop for the Gospels 241

18 Metatron and Naar: Combining Titles and Revelation 3:21 as a Probable

Part 3 Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha

20 The Pseudepigrapha and Second Temple Judaism 311

22 Cain and the Example of the Birds 339

24 Neither Deuteronomic nor Priestly: The Psalms of Solomon as the Original

Part 4 Dead Sea Scrolls

25 Contextual Errors in 1QISaa: How the Scribe Was Impacted by His

26 Psalmenhandschriften in den Qumrantexten 403

27 “Luxury Scrolls” from the Judean Desert 421

28 Qumran Readings in Agreement with the Septuagint against the Masoretic

Part 5 History of Scholarship

31 Of Moses, Mountains, and Models: Joseph Smith’s Book of Moses in Dialogue

I ndex on A uthors  515

PART 1 HEBREW BIBLE AND NEW TESTAMENT

PART 2 GRECO-ROMAN AND JEWISH WORLD

PART 3 APOCRYPHA AND PSEUDEPIGRAPHA

PART 4 DEAD SEA SCROLLS

PART 5 HISTORY OF SCHOLARSHIP

Gabriele Boccaccini C. D. Elledge

Darrell L. Bock Craig A. Evans

Christfried Böttrich Johan Ferreira

David Calabro Shimon Gibson

John J. Collins Helen R. Jacobus

Jan Dochhorn Hermann Lichtenberger

Corrado Martone Henry W. Morisada Rietz

Lee Martin McDonald Jonathan E. Soyars

John B. F. Miller Gregory E. Sterling

Hebrew Bible and

The Interpretation of Genesis

1. GEN 4:10 IN EARLY JEWISH INTERPRETATION

2. GENESIS 4:10 IN THE GREEK LIFE OF ADAM AND EVE

1. PRÉLIMINAIRE: LA FIGURE D’ABRAHAM DANS LE

2. ABRAHAM DANS LE TARGUM

3. ABRAHAM CHEZ PAUL

3.1. Gal 3:6–29

3.2. Rom 4:1–16

5. EXCURSUS: LE CONCEPT DE “RELIGION

Hebrews, the Aqedah, and Early

The Etymology of ‫ בליעל‬Once

1 The Interpretation of Genesis 4:10 in Early Jewish Literature 3

2 Abraham et l’abrahamisme: Mythe ou réalité? 15

3 Hebrews, the Aqedah, and Early Scriptural Interpretation 29

4 The Etymology of ‫ בליעל‬Once Again: A Case of Tabooistic Deformation? 43

5 Just What We Need: Another Allusion in Luke 1? 55

6 Repentance and Turning as a Unified Motif in Luke-Acts 67

8 Reconsidering the Poor: A Fresh Translation of Matthew 5:3 107

9 Christology in John’s Crucifixion Quotations 127

14 When Ontology Meets Eschatology: A Platonized Reading of Deuteronomy 28:1–14 201

16 Greco-Roman and Jewish Historiography as Backdrop for the Gospels 241

20 The Pseudepigrapha and Second Temple Judaism 311

22 Cain and the Example of the Birds 339

26 Psalmenhandschriften in den Qumrantexten 403

27 “Luxury Scrolls” from the Judean Desert 421

I ndex on A uthors 515