I’ve just been reading through Erlend D. MacGillivray’s article, “Re-evaluating Patronage and Reciprocity in Antiquity and New Testament Studies” Journal of Greco-Roman Christianity and Judaism 6 (2009) (free online right now).  I don’t have the time to respond fully to that article now, but I thought I’d jot down a few of my thoughts in reaction.  Although I find the article makes some good points, I find many aspects of MacGillivray’s claims problematic and incompatible with what I’ve found in studying inscriptions and benefaction.  I’ll be focussing on the latter here.

MacGillivray argues that the patron-client model developed for the study of ancient Mediterranean cultures has been too broadly applied without proper regard for the specifics of certain regions in that geographical scope.  I strongly agree with that overall point, but not with the specifics of how MacGillvray goes about his critique.  In this article, he offers two cultural cases which, he feels, demonstrate the inadequacy of assuming that patron-client relationships were standard across cultures in the Mediterraean.

His first example of practices that are not readily understood using a social scientifically informed patron-client model is Greek cultural reciprocity.  MacGillivray properly points out the differences between ROMAN patron-client relations and GREEK euergetism or benefaction.  The most important point is that Greek benefaction has to do mainly with groups or communities rather than individuals, and the acts of benefaction may be a one-time deal rather than part of an ongoing relationship.  MacGillivray does seem to underestimate cases where there are ongoing exchanges between a given benefactor and a particular group or community.  Euergetism is less short-term than he implies.  Also, he seems to draw too sharp a line between Roman and Greek practices, underestimating cultural exchanges or acculturation which took place in complicated ways.

But I think he is on track with regard to some of the differences between Roman and Greek cultural practices when it comes to exchanges.  I myself have consistently spoken of benefaction and honour in dealing with the Greek East and have avoided using the patron-client model which I feel fits most with Roman cultural contexts.

His second example of a cultural context where the patron-client model does not apply involves Jewish culture, as he calls it.  Here MacGillivray attempts to use certain passages in Philo and Josephus as representative of a general Jewish dislike for both Roman patron-client relations and Greek benefaction practices.  Here MacGillivray starts to sound like he’s making classic (read problematic) claims regarding the distinctiveness or uniqueness of Jewish (and he infers Christian) cultural practices when it comes to exchanges and giving / receiving.

The problems here are on several levels, which I cannot fully address right now.  For one, MacGillivray selects passages where Philo and Josephus sound like they are critiquing Roman and Greek practices of exchange.  Although not fully dealt with by MacGillivray, these passages are also passages in which Philo and Josephus are attempting, in part, to convince upper class Greek or Roman readers of the superiority (or at least the non-inferiority) of Judean ways within broader cultural contexts.  In light of Philo and Josephus’ own aims in these passages, no wonder an uncritical reading of them would suggest that Jews were unique, superior, and totally apart from these “foreign” practices.  MacGillivray seems to fall for the rhetoric, and too easily takes Philo and Josephus as widely representative of Judean views in many contexts, in my reading of his article.  Also, we need to remember that Greek and Roman moralistic authors likewise critiqued elements of the give and take system that dominated interactions (which MacGillivray acknowledges but does not fully engage), and yet we would not go on to argue that these views are representative of normal cultural practice in day-to-day life.

The main problem is, there are many other passages in both Philo and Josephus (not discussed by MacGillivray) where it becomes clear that Judeans and especially diaspora Judeans engaged in the give and take of benefaction.  There are also passages where both Philo and Josephus take such activities as standard and do not offer critique (see the extensive evidence presented in my books, for instance, to save me sounding like a broken record).

Although I was glad to see a New Testament scholar engaging with epigraphical evidence, I was a bit dismayed at how this was done.  Quite often, I was familiar with the inscriptions and found them being used out of context and to support positions that did not flow from the evidence, in my view.  Overall, the article did not come across as being written by someone who was fully conversant with epigraphy.  Deeper study of inscriptions is needed before moving to claims of cultural uniqueness, Jewish or otherwise.

That’s all for now, and I know I haven’t fully supported my own critiques of MacGillivray here, but that will have to wait for another time.  Generally, I feel like much of what I have already written in some articles and books offers a substantiated critique as well, and I hope that MacGillivray takes a look at that evidence before he continues along these lines.

In case you hadn’t noticed, my forthcoming book on Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians: Associations, Judeans, and Cultural Minorities is now available on Amazon.com for preorder (due November) at under $20.  I have also created a companion website (which may be expanded further in time) for the book.  As usual, that subsite can be found in the pull-down menu for “My Other Websites”.

The book considers early Christian identities in relation to other associations, Judean groups, and immigrants in the Roman empire.  Read more about it on the companion site.  Here’s a look at the book cover:

A while back David Instone-Brewer (of Tyndale Tech fame) and I co-wrote an article which has now appeared on the Journal of Greco-Roman Judaism and Christianity site in volume 5 (2008).

“Jewish Associations in Roman Palestine: Evidence from the Mishnah”.

Most of what is original there is by David, and I primarily provide associational context for his discussion of the Mishnaic evidence.

A reader of this blog (whose comment I by accident deleted rather than approved) recently reminded me that we can still access both earlychristianwritings.com and earlyjewishwritings.com using the Way Back Machine on Archive.org.  There are various snapshots of the sites to choose from, with the most successful and complete ones for me being:

http://web.archive.org:80/web/20060131092132/http://www.earlychristianwritings.com

http://web.archive.org/web/20070611063719/http://www.earlyjewishwritings.com/

This will certainly help since I included some readings from these sites in my course outline for the upcoming Winter term (assuming that the York U. strike gets solved before January!).

I finally got around to reading Elliott’s well-written piece on what terminology scholars should employ when identifying Jesus and his contemporaries in the land of Israel: “Jesus the Israelite was Neither A ‘Jew’ Nor a ‘Christian’: On Correcting Misleading Nomenclature,” Journal for the Study of the Historical Jesus 5 (2007) 119-154 (abstract).

Others such as Loren Rosson have commented positively on Elliott’s article. In another post, I have already discussed Steve Mason’s convincing argument that the term Ioudaioi should be translated as “Judean” with its geographical, ethnic, and cultural implications: see Was there such a thing as ancient “Judaism”? Namely, those in antiquity who identified others by their cultural center, place of origin, or ethnic group naturally assumed a way of life associated with that geographical area, including practices and beliefs that we as moderns tend to call “religious”. “Religion” was integrated within an overall perspective that was focussed more on ethnic groups and their different ways of life.

Elliott’s article rightly follows others such as Esler (Elliott didn’t have Mason’s piece) who see major problems in translating Ioudaioi as “Jews”, or ioudaismos as “Judaism”. Elliott’s focus is not on that point, which has been well argued by others. Instead, Elliott draws on ethnic identity theory and suggests that a person’s or group’s self-identification is best used in scholarly pursuits.

Elliott then pursues evidence for what Jesus and other contemporaries in the land of Israel called one another, surveying identifications in the New Testament, Apocrypha, and Pseudepigrapha. He touches on the inscriptions from Delos (involving “Israelites”) briefly but generally does not deal with epigraphical evidence (partly because his focus is on Jesus, perhaps). His answer based on literary evidence is that in the majority of cases, insiders identified one another using terms such as “Israelite” and “children of Israel” but that at times “Judeans” (Ioudaioi) was used to identify people associated with the region of Judea in a broad sense (encompassing adjacent regions such as Galilee). However, “Judeans” was primarily an outsiders’ perspective on identifying what insiders would call “Israelites”, in Elliott’s view. Gradually, diaspora “Israelites” adopted outsiders’ terminology and began identifying themselves as “Judeans” within a diaspora context.

I am largely convinced by many of Elliott’s points. However, my own area of research on immigrants in the diaspora, including Judean immigrants, would suggest that the main terminological focus of inscriptions in Asia Minor and elsewhere is Ioudaioi. People from the land of Israel who migrated and settled elsewhere tended to identify themselves as “Judeans” (as a quick survey of the indices of Inscriptiones Judaicae Orientis shows). “Israelites” rarely occurs as an identification of a specific group in the diaspora, with the exception of those on Delos.

Elliott may be right that Jesus (or his earliest followers) were most often designated “Israelite”, “Galilean”, or “Nazarean”. It may also be true that the term “Israelites” should be used in discussing specific writings that do indeed use that terminology. Yet in the case of scholars who are dealing with those from Israel within the broader context of the ancient Mediterranean, “Judeans” remains most appropriate, particularly in light of the preference for that term in the Greek inscriptions (as a self-designation) and in authors like Josephus (”Israelites” would need to be reserved for the exceptional cases when it is used as a self-designation on monuments, as at Delos). This is where the evidence of Paul’s use of “Judean”, which Elliott sees as exceptional, fits in as well.

We scholars are outsiders too. We need not always (and sometimes shouldn’t) adopt specific insider (emic) language to designate the groups we are studying, even though we always need to be attentive to, and descriptive of, what that insider language is. “Holy ones”, “brothers”, “the righteous” and such are examples of value-loaded insider language that we wouldn’t want to adopt as scholars as general designations of the early followers of Jesus (or Paul). We want to avoid value-loaded language whether it is the stereotyping labels of outsiders or the praising self-designations of insiders. Thankfully neither “Israelite” nor “Judean” fall into the value-loaded category. This may be where I differ from Elliott’s more specific point about the need for scholars to use the categories of insiders, but this does not detract from Elliott’s overall contribution here.

Steve Mason (a colleague of mine here at York U.) recently handed me an offprint of his new article that, in my mind, puts to rest a recent debate within scholarship regarding the appropriateness of using the term “Judaism” — as though it were an ancient, emic (insider) concept — to describe a whole system of practice and belief in the Greco-Roman world:

Steve Mason, “Jews, Judaeans, Judaizing, Judaism: Problems of Categorization in Ancient History,” Journal for the Study of Judaism 38 (2007) 457-512. (available online to subscribing institutions here).

Mason convincingly argues that Ioudaioi (traditionally translated “Jews”) and related terms should be understood in terms of ethnic groupings in antiquity. For the Hellenistic and Roman periods (at least until the third century CE) we should be speaking of “Judeans”, not “Jews”, and of “Judean customs” or practices, not “Judaism”. Mason is careful to point out that he is not arguing against the use of critically-employed, etic (outsider), scholarly categories in the interest of furthering scholarly knowledge (pp. 458-460). So while he is underlining the absence of the category “Judaism” as a system (i.e. the lack of an emic term such as this in ancient literature), on the one hand, he is also pointing to the ineffectiveness, scientifically, of the uncritical use of this specific modern scholarly (etic) category, “Judaism”, in connection with the ancient period.

Mason builds his argument in three stages. First (pp. 457-480), he deals with the relatively rare ancient terms ἰουδαίζω (verb) / Ἰουδαισμός (noun), which have often been erroneously translated as referring to “Judaism” as a system of belief and practice, rather than to the practice of adopting the ways of a particular ethnic group. Mason shows, that these “-ize” terms, like “barbarize”, “Spartanize”, “hellenize”, and “Romanize”, are used by the ancients to speak of those from one ethnic group going over to or adopting the practices of a people other than their own, adopting foreign ways. Christian uses of “Judaize”, as in Ignatius of Antioch, often occur in polemical materials pertaining precisely to this pull toward Judean ways among Greeks of western Asia Minor (”Gentiles”). Mason goes through the main cases of “Judaize”, including those in the Maccabean histories and in the inscription from Stobi, to show that there was no “static or systematic abstraction” known as “Judaism” in minds of those who used these Greek terms in antiquity.

Second (pp. 480-488), Mason goes on to show how some scholars continue to uncritically employ the concept of “religion” in studies of ancient Judean culture. In particular, theories by Shaye Cohen and others that propose a shift in the meaning of Ioudaioi from an originally ethnic-geographic category (i.e. “Judean”) to a religious category (”Jew”) are built on problematic notions regarding the category of “religion”. Mason emphasizes that what we as moderns think of as “religion” was, in fact, not known in antiquity and also intersects or envelopes at least six different categories that were familiar to the ancients (ethnos, cult, philosophy, familial rites of passage, associations, and astrology / magic).

Third (pp. 489-512), Mason argues that the Ioudaioi / Iudaei “of Graeco-Roman antiquity understood themselves, and were understood by outsiders, as an ἔθνος, a people comparable to and contrastable with other ἔθνη” (p. 489). Ancient authors including Strabo, Posidonius, Tacitus, Philo, and Josephus consistently speak of Ioudaioi in terms of them being an ethnos, a people or ethnic group. Here Mason also deals with common objections to the use of “Judeans” to translate Ioudaioi, most notably the objection raised by Cohen and others that “conversion” to Judean ways by non-Judean peoples in the Hasmonean period signals the shift to a “religious” understanding of the label Ioudaios. Mason effectively argues that we have no evidence from ancient authors that this proposed shift took place and that it is also problematic in regard to the notions of “religion” that lie behind it.

This article, in my mind, has put this question to rest. It is time to speak of “Judeans”, “Judean practices”, and “Judean culture” in the same way that we would speak of the identity and practices of the many other ethnic groups or peoples that existed in antiquity. The Judeans of antiquity are not a special case.

Among other things, my own recent research into immigrant groups of various kinds, including Judeans in the Greco-Roman cities, led me to speak of Judeans and Judean culture, Syrians and Syrian culture. Even in lectures I now speak of Paul, Philo, Josephus, and others primarily as “Judeans” and of the practices and beliefs they express as variations on Judean culture. At the moment and probably in the long-run, these are the most appropriate categories to work with.

One of the things that needs to be emphasized when approaching the study of early Christianity is the fact that the early Christians, and the writings they produced, were part of a real world (for my course outline and discussion notes for Christian origins go here). Writings such as those found in the New Testament were not floating up in heaven somewhere. Instead, they were written by real people in real places. As a result, they both reflected and were products of broader social and cultural contexts, both Greco-Roman (or Hellenistic) and Judean.

On the one hand, it is important to consider the complicated conglomeration of things we scholars simplify with labels such as “Hellenistic (Greek) world” or “Greco-Roman world”. There is far too much to cover under such terms, but among the issues are the ways in which Hellenistic (Greek) culture came to prominent position in the ancient Mediterranean, something that I have discussed in a post on Alexander the Great (d. 323 BCE) and Christian origins (NT 1.2). You might also get a taste, but only a mere taste, of how complicated this world was by reading some of the posts in my category Greco-Roman Religions and Culture.

There is a sense in which dividing the Judean world from the Hellenistic world is itself a problem, since the two cultures were in interaction for more than three centuries before the emergence of the Jesus movement in Judea. A similar thing could be said of interaction with Roman (better: Greco-Roman) culture once the Romans were in charge of things (beginning in the second century BCE but climaxing with the imperial period, beginning about 31 BCE). The so-called Maccabean revolt of the 170s BCE, which I discuss in ‘Tis the season . . . : Jewish and Roman holidays, involved a sustained war arising from conflicts with certain actions by Hellenistic rulers and those Judeans who adopted certain aspects of Hellenistic culture. However, the relation between Judaism and Hellenism was by no means entirely hostile, and there were varying reactions by Judean individuals and groups to particular facets of Greek culture both within Israel and in the dispersion (cities across the Mediterranean). The fact that the Hebrew Bible was translated into Greek (a translation known as the Septuagint = LXX) beginning in the third century BCE is indicative of the less antagonistic interactions that were going on in various places.

This discussion of varying Judean responses to Hellenistic culture segues well into the second main cultural sphere: Judean culture. To understand a movement that began within Judaism, such as the Jesus movement, one needs to consider Judean culture in its many forms in the first and following centuries. This is a tall order, since Judaism itself was marked by a variety which I have discussed in posts including Let’s talk about sects: Diversity in Second-Temple Judaism (NT 2.3). The Jesus movement was just one among many groups within second temple Judaism and it is important to consider how to plot out these followers of Jesus in relation to others. As we shall soon see in the case of Paul and the situation at Galatia, even early followers of Jesus could have different answers regarding the relation between the Jesus movement and certain aspects of Judean culture (circumcision among them).

There is a sense in which a course on the New Testament or early Christian literature is, through and through, a study of these two worlds and the interplay between them.  So we will continue to struggle with these issues for a while.

What was it like to be an immigrant in the Greco-Roman world? Well, the answer given by many scholars of the past has been that it was not very good at all for immigrants. Without necessarily actually looking at any archeological or inscriptional evidence, some scholars tend to assume that foreigners were faced with significant hardships and feelings of rootlessness. Robert Turcan is somewhat representative of common views when he speaks of a “troubled and drifting world” in which “uprooted people”, particularly immigrants, lived “on the fringes of a disintegrating world” in both the Hellenistic and Roman eras (Turcan, The Cults of the Roman Empire [A. Nevill trans.; Oxford: Blackwell, 1996], 16-17).

Often this view of immigrant hardship is coupled with overstated notions regarding the decline of the ancient city in the Hellenistic and following eras, which resulted in general feelings of detachment and a lack of social connection. I have dealt with such problematic theories of decline in a full article elsewhere (The Declining Polis? Religious Rivalries in Ancient Civic Context).

It is true that immigrants, foreigners or minorities could, at times, be faced with negative attitudes or treatment associated with xenophobia (fear of foreigners), so there were certainly negative sides to immigrant experience (see ‘Come! Plunge the knife into the baby’: Tertullian’s not-so-subtle retort). Nonetheless the all-encompassing scholarly picture of immigrants adrift in a disintegrating society does not fit with the actual evidence we have available, at least in the case of Syrian or Phoenician expatriots in the Hellenistic and Roman eras.

My recent research into inscriptions that involve Syrians who settled elsewhere and formed themselves into associations points rather to the ways in which such “foreigners” maintained connections with the cultural traditions of their homeland while also finding a home for themselves in the society of settlement. Syrian immigrants acculturated, to various degrees, to local customs while also sustaining a sense of distinctiveness. In particular, there is a consistency in Syrians’ attention to the “gods of the homeland”. I am developing these ideas further for a forthcoming publication, but you can also see an inscription or two in an earlier post: For the gods of the homeland: Immigrants from Beirut on a Greek island.

In this respect, there are significant commonalities between Syrians and Judeans (Jews) or Israelites (Samaritans) in the ways that they found a place for themselves in cities of the ancient Mediterranean world. See, for example my post ‘Tis the season . . . : Jewish and Roman holidays and my article Acculturation and Identity in the Diaspora: A Jewish Family and ‘Pagan’ Guilds at Hierapolis.

Apparently based on a report by Haaretz (”Researcher: We have found Herod’s tomb“, “Hebrew University: Herod’s tomb and grave found at Herodium“), certain news agencies (at least Reuters, as on abc.com’s site) are reporting that the archeologist Ehud Netzer has located the tomb of Herod the Great within the palace-fortress known as Herodium (see the aerial photo and description of Herodium here). We’ll have to wait and see what has actually happened but, if the initial reports are true, this will be quite the story.

Thanks to Steve Mason for giving me the heads up in an email.

UPDATE (Tues. May 8):

A more official press release is now available on the Hebrew University website: “Tomb of King Herod discovered at Herodium by Hebrew University archaeologist.”  The article claims that “The location and unique nature of the findings, as well as the historical record, leave no doubt that this was Herod’s burial site, said Prof. Netzer.”  As is to be expected in such an initial announcement, the article does not yet dispel possibilities of doubt.  Among the findings that are mentioned are: a “group of decorated urns” and  “pieces of a large, unique sarcophagus (close to 2.5 meters long), made of a Jerusalemite reddish limestone, which was decorated by rosettes” (they mention  that it was broken into hundreds of pieces).  No inscriptions were found.

It will be interesting to see what other interpretations of the archeological evidence, if any, come forward in the future, but at least it seems more likely now that this is indeed the tomb of Herod the Great.

The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha course blog has now been going for a while and includes a number of entries on apocalyptic literature:

Apocalypse of Abraham: Online Translations of the Apocalypse of Abraham, Apocalypse of Abraham Abstract, Summary of The Apocalypse of Abraham Seminar

Apocalypse of Elijah: Elijah Materials Online, Coptic Apocalypse of Elijah Abstract, Summary of Coptic Apocalypse of Elijah Seminar

“In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets” (attributed to Jesus in Matthew 7:12 [NRSV]; cf. Luke 6:31).

As you may know, rabbi Jesus was not alone among those in antiquity in advocating that ethics and treatment of others should be based on how one would like (or not like) to be treated. Thus, for instance, in a story involving another first century rabbi, rabbi Hillel, like Jesus, summarizes the ethical basis of the Torah in speaking to a Gentile convert:

“What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow neighbor. That is the whole Torah, while the rest is an elaborate commentary on it; go and learn” (Shabbat 31a; trans. by Moshe Gold, “Ethical Practice in Critical Discourse: Conversions and Disruptions in Legal, Religious Narratives,” Representations 64 [1998], 21).

And the book of Tobit in the apocrypha preserves a similar concept (Tobit 4:15). This was by no means a solely Jewish (or, later, Christian) way of thinking, however.

Despite what you may have heard about the “pagan” Greeks or Romans (a friend of mine — perhaps representative — thought they were all about wild orgies), “pagans” too were very concerned with proper behaviour as they defined it, and sometimes they defined it in similar ways. Educated philosophers, in particular, focussed their attention on questions of what behaviours were most fitting, desirable, or appropriate in particular circumstances. Such philosophers were often very concerned with “family values”, and so they spent considerable time thinking about what were the appropriate relationships among members of the household: husband-wife; parent-child; sibling-sibling; master-slave (the so called household codes which also appear in variant forms in Christian writings such as Colossians 3:18-4:1 and 1 Peter 2:18-3:7).

Among these “pagan” philosophers is Hierocles, who wrote a handbook in the second century that incorporated many ethical ideas from Stoicism (partially preserved in the works of Stobaeus). In the midst of discussing proper relations among members of the family and in society generally, Hierocles has this to say:

The first bit of advice, therefore, is very clear, easily obtained, and common to all people. For it is a sound word which everyone will recognize as clear: Treat anybody whatsoever as though you supposed that he were you and you he. For someone would treat even a servant well if he pondered how he would want to be treated if the slave were the master and he the slave. Something similar can also be said of parents with respect to their children, of children with respect to their parents, and, in short, of all people with respect to others” (Hierocles, On Duties 4.27.20; translated by Abraham J. Malherbe, Moral Exhortation: A Greco-Roman Sourcebook [Library of Early Christianity; Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1986], 93-94. ).

Think of that bit of Greco-Roman wisdom the next time you’re watching some modern film or show depicting those supposedly wild Roman “pagans” with their orgies and gladiatorial slaughter.

Want more on “pagan” ethics and family values?:  See my earlier post on Paul and Philemon, in which I discussed the views of Galen and Seneca, both philosophers, on the proper treatment of slaves.  Also see my articles on the use of familial language including  “brothers” and “mothers or fathers”, within associations.

I have now gained permission and uploaded my most recent article on the use of parental language in small group settings in antiquity:

Philip A. Harland, “Familial Dimensions of Group Identity (II): ‘Mothers’ and ‘Fathers’ in Associations and Synagogues of the Greek World,” Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic, and Roman Period 38 (2007) 57-79.

This article complements my earlier one on “brothers”:

Philip A. Harland, “Familial Dimensions of Group Identity: ‘Brothers’ (ΑΔΕΛΦΟΙ) in Associations of the Greek East,” Journal of Biblical Literature 124 (2005) 491-513.

These and other articles are also accessible from the publications page.

The difficulty in studying groups that lived two thousand or so years ago is that we often know very little about them, let alone knowing how they came to form in the first place. The discipline of “Christian origins” is a case in point regarding just how difficult it is to explain the origins of a movement. When it comes to the apocalyptic sect that left civilization to live out its life in the desert on the edge of the Dead Sea, we happen to get some hints as to the origins of this group at Qumran, which may or may not be a group of Essenes (see my earlier post on Josephus and the “sects” within Judaism).

The writing known as the Damascus Document (written around the early to mid first century BCE) begins precisely with a description, however loaded with metaphors, of the origins of a penitential group of Judeans, probably around the 190s BCE:

“[God] remembered the covenant of the very first, he saved a remnant for Israel and did not deliver them up to destruction. And at the moment of wrath, three hundred and ninety years after having delivered them up into the hands of Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, he visited them and caused to sprout from Israel and from Aaron a shoot of the planting, in order to possess his land and to become fat with the good things of the soil . And they realised their sin and knew that they were guilty men; but they were like blind persons and like those who grope for the path over twenty years. And God appraised their deeds, because they sought him with a perfect heart and raised up for them a Teacher of Righteousness in order to direct them in the path of his heart” (Damascus Document = CD 1.4-11; italics mine).

This little passage tells us quite a bit, even though we need to be careful in how literally we approach this. It speaks of a particular group among the Judeans as the remnant and goes on to speak of a penitential movement that emerged as a “sprout” (with the years mentioned roughly lining up with the turn of the second century, around the 190s BCE). It speaks of a time when these men who recognized their “guilt” felt a lack of direction until a special leader emerged just decades later (20 years), the “Teacher of Righteousness”. So far so good: we have a penitential movement among the Judean population around the 190s BCE and a leader emerging perhaps around the 170s BCE.

We hear more of this “Teacher of Righteousness”, who was evidently a central figure of the past in the view of the group that lived at Qumran, from other biblical commentaries (pesharim) found among the Dead Sea Scrolls (on pesher as a form of interpretation, see this post). In the commentary on Habbakuk we gain further glimpses into some aspects of the origins of this splinter group, as well as the centrality of apocalyptic expectation in connection with these origins. The author of this commentary interprets a passage in Habakkuk as referring to the Teacher of Righteousness himself:

Its interpretation concerns the Teacher of Righteousness, to whom God has disclosed all the mysteries of the words of his servants, the prophets. For the vision has an appointed time, it will have an end and not fail [Hab. 2:3]. Its interpretation: the final age will be extended and go beyond all that the prophets say, because the mysteries of God are wonderful (1QpHab 7.1-8).

Here we see the centrality of the expectation of an apocalyptic end among these particular Judeans. The Teacher of Righteousness, it is thought, had special access to interpreting the mysteries of God concerning the prophets and the coming end. Through this teacher, the Qumranites believed, they alone had access to secrets about how to interpret scripture and about how and when the final intervention of God would come.

Added to this scenario is the “Wicked Priest”. It seems that disagreements between this priest, likely a Hasmonean (Maccabean) high-priest of the temple in Jerusalem (in the 150s BCE), and the Teacher, who was also a priest, led to a fall-out that inspired members of the penitential movement to leave “wicked” society altogether and to found the community at Qumran. The sort of tensions and conflicts that led to this foundation are evident when the author interprets a passage in Habakkuk in terms of the “Wicked Priest who pursued the Teacher of Righteousness to consume him with the ferocity of his anger in the place of his banishment, in festival time, during the rest of the day of Atonement” (11.4-7). The language of consume here suggests violence, perhaps even an attempt to kill the “Teacher”. The Qumran group emerged out of contentions among priests in the temple of Jerusalem.

The negativity toward the Wicked Priest and the leadership of the temple generally which made these Judeans feel a need to abandon society altogether is further confirmed in the comment that the priest “did not circumcise the foreskin of his heart and has walked on paths of drunkenness to slake his thirst; but the cup of God’s anger will engulf him, heaping up [shame upon him]” (11.11-14).

Here we have, then, a sectarian group who felt the end of the world and the end of the evil leadership of the temple was coming soon. They went out to the desert to prepare and await the “visitation” of God that is spelled out most clearly in the “two spirits” material in the Community Rule. Soon, they thought, the “dominion of Belial” (Worthless one = Satan) or the Prince of Darkness would end with the destruction or eternal torment of evil and those who aligned themselves with the way of the wicked (”the sons of darkness”), including the current “wicked” leadership of the Jerusalem temple. The destiny of the “sons of light”, namely the members of the Qumran sect, was much better: “eternal enjoyment with endless life” (1QS 4.7).

For more on the Qumran community’s apocalyptic worldview, including their notions of where evil came from, see the post: Enter the serpent: Adam, Eve, and the Devil (Satan 8). For more on the sects within Judaism, including the Essenes, see the post: Let’s talk about sects: Diversity in Second-Temple Judaism (NT 2.3). Jim Davila’s blog on Qumranica provides useful links and discussion of various issues relating to Qumran. For photographs of Qumran and other information, including a tour of the caves, see the Orion Center for the Study of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Associated Literature.

All translations in this post are from Florentino García Martínez, trans., The Dead Sea Scrolls Translated: The Qumran Texts in English (2d ed.; trans. Wilfred G.E. Watson; Leiden/Grand Rapids: E.J. Brill/Eerdmans Publishing, 1996).

Jim Davila has been using the net for educational purposes for quite some time, including his ongoing blog on ancient Judaism (Paleojudaica) and a previous course-blog on the Dead Sea Scrolls. Now Jim has a course-blog on the Pseudepigrapha (Jewish writings of the Hellenistic and Roman periods that did not end up in the canon), which will no doubt need to deal with apocalyptic writings. So far, he has already posted his lecture notes for an “Introduction to the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha”. Keep an eye on that one.

As you may know, I always seek to gain permission from journals and others to reproduce my scholarly articles online, and you can read these articles on my publications page. I have now uploaded two of the most recent ones:

“Acculturation and Identity in the Diaspora: A Jewish Family and ‘Pagan’ Guilds at Hierapolis,” Journal of Jewish Studies 57 (2006) 222-244. (This article looks at the grave-inscriptions of Judeans at Hierapolis in Asia Minor).

“The Declining Polis? Religious Rivalries in Ancient Civic Context,” in Leif E. Vaage, ed., Religious Rivalries in the Early Roman Empire and the Rise of Christianity. Studies in Christianity and Judaism, vol. 18. Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2006, pp. 21-49. (This article discusses scholarly ideas regarding the decline of the ancient city and uses evidence for associations in Asia Minor to refute some common theories).

One thing that is difficult for modern students to get their minds around (and, perhaps, for modern lecturers to explain properly) is the range of methods or styles of interpretation employed by first century Jews like Paul (who was trained as a Pharisee, of course). When a person like Paul approached the Jewish scriptures, he had a variety of options on how to extract meaning from those writings. And these options go far beyond what a modern person would consider a “normal” method of interpretation, of getting the meaning out of certain passages in the Bible.

Among these styles or methods of interpretation were: 1) Midrash, 2) Pesher, 3) Allegory, and 4) Typology. There are times when a number of methods are employed at once, and the lines between these modes of interpretation can be blurry, I should add. It is the modern scholar that speaks in these clear-cut terms more so than the ancient intepreter; nonetheless there are times when, for instance, Paul explicitly says he is putting forward an “allegory” (Gal 4:24) or when an author of Daniel or of one of the Dead Sea scrolls repeatedly speaks of his “pesher” of a particular prophetic writing.

1) Midrash, which comes from the root “to study” or “to interpret”, comes closest to what we as moderns would call interpretation proper. But even so this involves going beyond what we would call a literal interpretation. Thus, for instance, Paul unpacks the story of Abraham in a somewhat literal way, focussing on the chronological sequence of Yahweh’s relations with and establishment of a covenant with Abraham (in Galatians, as discussed in my other post). Yet he also juxtaposes a variety of other scriptural sources in relation to his exposition of Abraham’s story in a way that goes beyond a literal interpretation and is also focussed on the somewhat hidden, spiritual significance of the scriptures in question. In the process he also employs typological thinking, as explained below, in presenting Gentiles as sons of Abraham, or new Abrahams. Like all forms of interpretation discussed here, the interpreter is almost always concerned with applying the meaning that is found to the current situation of the interpreter and his (or her) listeners.

2) Pesher (literally, “solution” or “interpretation”) likewise involves finding the meanings presumed to be hidden within the Torah and, especially, prophetic writings like Jeremiah, Isaiah, and Hosea. Pesher may be considered a type of Midrash in some ways, but there is more of a focus on one-to-one correspondences in the interpretation of specific details of the scripture in question. Pesher is very much focussed on the hidden meanings that cannot be readily detected by just anyone.

The author of Daniel frequently uses the term “pesher” to describe Daniel’s method of interpreting the details of dreams. Some members of the Dead Sea sect use the term pesher when they are doing very detailed, one-to-one intepretations regarding how details in the prophets (8th-6th centuries BCE) are in fact referring to specific powers or persons who can be identified in their own time (2nd-1st century BCE). By doing pesher, the interpreter is unlocking or decoding the “mystery” (raz). Pesher was (and still is) very important for apocalyptic thinkers who look for the veiled meaning behind details in the scriptures in order to find one-to-one correspondences with specific incidents or people in their own times, namely the end-times.

For a discussion of pesher in the context of the Dead Sea scroll known as the Isaiah Pesher, see the West Semitic Research Project site here.

3) Allegorical approaches involve extracting the deeply hidden but always spiritual meaning in a particular passage or story in the Bible. Allegorical interpretation, which is figurative, is very far removed from a literal interpretation and often seeks to find hidden and seemingly obscure meanings that noone else had or would find in a passage. When Paul uses the story of Sarah and Hagar from Genesis (in Galatians 4:21-31) and interprets these two women as two covenants, two mountains, and two cities, he is doing allegorical interpretation. There is also a sense in which Paul concludes this allegory with typological application, however, since he finishes by saying that the readers who follow Paul are “children of promise”, like Isaac (they are new Isaacs).

Philo of Alexandria, the first century Jewish philosopher, is well-known for his allegorical interpretations. For instance, as David Runia notes: “In the so-called Allegorical Commentary, which contains 21 books, Philo gives an elaborate commentary on the first 17 chapters of the book Genesis from a purely allegorical perspective. These chapters are not interpreted in terms of the primal history of man and God’s election of the people of Israel, but are read at a ‘deeper’ level as a profound account of the nature of the soul, her place in reality, and the experiences she undergoes as she searches for her divine origin and gains knowledge of her creator” (pp. 5-6 in article linked below). Runia provides an excellent introduction to Philo, including his allegorical methods: Philo, Alexandrian and Jew. Hindy Najman (U. Toronto) has an online article which discusses Philo’s typological and allegorical interpretation of the Cain and Abel stories in Genesis: Cain and Abel as Character Traits: A Study in the Allegorical Typology of Philo of Alexandria.

4) Typology involves viewing key figures or events in the stories of the Bible as ideal types that repeat themselves in subsequent history, particularly in the time of the interpreter. Paul is thinking typologically when he speaks of Jesus as the “second Adam”. Typological interpretation is evident throughout the Gospels, as when people in the story are presented as wondering whether Jesus is Elijah, Jeremiah, or one of the prophets (Mathew 16:14) or when Jesus is presented as seeing John the Baptist as the new Elijah (Mark 9:11-13). The Gospel of Matthew, in particular, provides a clear case of more thoroughgoing typological interpretation in the author’s presentation of Jesus as a new king David and a new Moses (see my post of Matthew’s portrait of Jesus here). For example, in the birth narrative Matthew juxtaposes particular stories about Moses’ birth with the birth of Jesus, and he sometimes quotes or alludes to specific passages or phrases relating to Moses’ story in the process of telling Jesus’ story.

In writing this post, my memory was refreshed by: J.D.G. Dunn, Unity and Diversity in the New Testament (2nd edition; Harrisburg: Trinity Press, 1990) and R. N. Longenecker, Biblical Exegesis in the Apostolic Period (2nd edition; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999). The four types outlined above are also those listed by Dunn.

Welcome to the tenth Biblical Studies Carnival. As usual, quite a lot is going on in the many blogs that deal with biblical studies and related areas, including the Ancient Near East and the Greco-Roman world.

HEBREW BIBLE AND THE ANCIENT NEAR EAST

Was there sex in Eden?: Both Stephen Cook (parts 1, 2, and 3) and Chris Heard have posts discussing the Genesis story of the garden of Eden (parental discretion is advised).

Exodus Decoded: Ever commented on what you thought about a flick (e.g. “I found the repetition of ‘nee’ particularly distracting from the plot-line”) and had the producer contact you directly in an attempt to refute your critique? Well, that’s what happened to Chris Heard over on his blog, Higgaion! Chris has a series of posts dealing with a controversial and slickly-produced documentary called The Exodus Decoded, by Simcha Jacobovici. The documentary claims to unearth “the true story of the Exodus” and Chris shows just how un-true key aspects of Jacobovici’s theory really are, despite how exciting it would be if they were true. (Part 1 is here, and then follow the links to following parts at the bottom of each post. There’s nine–make that eleven–so far!).

Listen to the tunes Abram heard before he listened to Yahweh: Francis Deblauwe discusses the success by a team of archeologists and others in reconstructing a playable Mesopotamian Lyre based on the so called Gold Lyre of Ur, dated to the third millenium BCE. If you watched Live 8, then you may have already seen and heard an unfinished version of the lyre. I wonder what the Edge would do with a Mesopotamian lyre?

Gathered to the ancestors: Stephen Cook has begun an interesting series on Israelite burial practices and conceptions of death, starting with Abraham’s burial of Sarah (part 1, part 2).

God’s crossword puzzle, or “cent, cent, quarter and dollars”: A post on דבר אחר (dawar akher, literally “another interpretation”) investigates and provides an interesting interpretation of the mysterious Writing on the Wall in the story of Daniel (chapter 5). The king won’t be too happy about the solution to this crossword puzzle.

Learning the a,b,c’s in Bronze Age Canaan: Duane Smith continues with his series of posts on evidence for scribal training and scribal schools in Canaan and the Ancient Near East: How to Recognize a Scribal School - Part 4: Evidence for the training of scribes in Late Bronze Age Canaan.

I do not like them (Hebrew and Greek, that is): For those learning Hebrew or Greek, Tyler Williams gathers together a couple of funny sketches in Abbott & Costello Learn Hebrew (written by Rabbi Jack Moline) and Dr. Seuss Learns Greek (written by someone).

SECOND-TEMPLE JUDAISM AND EARLY RABBINIC JUDAISM

Counterfeit prophecy: Torrey Seland discusses a recent article he has written on Philo of Alexandria’s views on “magic”.

Those elusive Essenes by the Dead Sea: Over on Rogueclassicism, David Meadows highlights an article concerning the theory of archaeologist Yizhar Hirschfeld. This archeologist claims that the place where the Dead Sea scrolls were found is not an Essene site and that the Essenes mentioned by Pliny the Elder can be found and, in fact, have been found (by this archeologist). Balancing things out, the article also cites solid scholars who plainly reject this suggested new site for the Essenes mentioned by Pliny the Elder (Natural History, 5.15.17) .

Sects and violence: I’ve recently offered a couple of posts dealing with the diversity of groups in Judaism in the first century and with the tensions that culminated with the destruction of the second temple in 70 CE. And, as the latter post shows, if you thought that the practice of exposing one’s posterior area for comic-affect or insult was a modern cultural convention, you’ve got something to learn.

Come blow your horn: Menachem Mendel discusses Mishnaic and Talmudic traditions associated with Blowing Shofar on Shabbat in connection with the Jewish New Year (Rosh Hashannah).

EARLY CHRISTIAN WRITINGS AND THE GRECO-ROMAN WORLD

Is Wright wrong? (and, yes, I came up with that brilliant play on words myself): Jim Davila challenges several aspects of N.T. Wright’s claims regarding the Gospel of Thomas, including the question of whether that Gospel was originally written in Aramaic and whether it reflects early material traceable to Jesus himself. (The Gospel of Thomas is available in many translations online here, for you to decide what you think about it).

Blogen-what?: Blogentary, like commentary but on a blog. Michael Pahl is continuing his interesting series of posts that will add up to an online commentary (blogentary) on Paul’s first letter to the Christians at Thessalonica (1 Thessalonians). Michael’s most recent post deals with what is absolutely essential for understanding this or any letter by Paul, namely, the real life cultural contexts in which the members of the earliest Jesus-groups found themselves (the Greco-Roman city of Thessalonica, in this case). He links to and discusses several photos of the ruins at Thessalonica. On a related note (and thanks to a note on Roman Archaeology), there are recent plans to engage in further excavation of Thessalonica: “Drill aids digs in Thessaloniki: Large-scale metro excavation could illuminate Hellenistic and Roman periods.”

What time did Paul arrive in Corinth (and was he late)?: The perrenial issue of when Paul wrote what is occupying a number of New Testament bloggers. The whole discussion of Pauline chronology was re-started by Mark Goodacre, whose first post was Does Galatians post-date 1 Corinthians?. Several others have responded and they list links to all the relevant posts, including Loren Rosson, Michael Pahl, and Stephen Carlson. Loren in particular offers a post focussing on the the difficulties in dating Galatians specifically.

What a difference an epsilon can make: In Textual Criticism and the Antioch Incident, Stephen Carlson discusses the textual variant which changes the “they [some from James] came” to “he [Peter?] came” in Paul’s run-in with Peter over eating with Gentiles.

Lists: Over on Thoughts on Antiquity, Ben C. Smith has a series of useful posts on early Christian canonical lists, including an introduction regarding the importance of these lists of early Christian works and discussions of the Marcionite canon, the Muratorian canon, and Origen’s discussion of what that church father considers valuable Christian writings.

Bart on the text of the Bible: “The Bible is corrupt, man” (no, the other Bart). The Evangelical Textual Criticism blog has an interview with Bart Ehrman regarding his views of textual corruption and the impact of his works on public perceptions of the Bible.

Do not get drunk with wine: Pliny the Elder joins the author of Ephesians (5:18) in warning of the evils of drinking, but from a more practical perspective. This ancient description of a hangover may be a timely warning in light of forthcoming Oktoberfest.

Cult of the severed head: Moving into religions in territories conquered by the Romans, where Christian groups were soon to be established, Troels Myrup Kristensen has a fascinating post on the cult of the severed head in Gaul (France). He cites the Greco-Roman geographer and ethnographer Strabo, who wrote in the time of Augustus.

Just a final comment on the online “Nerd Test” that several biblical studies types have been completing, some claiming low nerd-levels: Only complete nerds would fill out such a test, so this is redundant and, when it indicates low levels of nerdiness, entirely inaccurate.

The November edition of Biblical Studies Carnival (no. XI) will be hosted by Michael Pahl over at The Stuff of Earth. So submit to him your suggestions of posts to include for the next round.

The first century was marked by a series of tensions between certain Roman authorities and some Judeans that, in some ways, ultimately culminated in the Judean war and the destruction of the second temple by the Romans in 70 CE. While some Roman governors (procurators) of Judea seemed somewhat attentive to the peculiarities of Judean culture, including its monotheism and some of its laws, others were less so.

Thus, for instance, Josephus relates a story about how the procurator or prefect Pilate (who is also known for his execution of Jesus in about 30 CE) attempted to have Roman standards (decorative shields) with images of the emperor placed within the city walls of Jerusalem (War 2. 169-171 //Antiquities 18.55). (There is a useful online article about Pilate). According to Josephus, the result was a significant, non-violent sit-in by a large crowd of Judeans who were greatly offended by the abrogation of Jewish laws concerning images. When Pilate decided he would have his guards surround the crowds and prepare to threaten death, the response by the Judeans was the extension of their necks in Josephus telling: we’ll die for our God’s laws. Pilate gave in this time, but this sort of incident could not be good for Roman public relations in Jerusalem and Judea. In his histories, Josephus recounts a number of other incidents involving clashes, some more violent than this one with Pilate, between Romans and inhabitants in this Roman province.

Among these incidents is one involving a less than polite Roman soldier in the time of procurator Cumanus (c. 48 CE), whose moon and accompanying rude noises (William Whiston’s translation is somewhat more restrained) ended up resulting in a riot and the death of some Judeans in the crowds during the feast of Passover (Josephus may be exaggerating with his 10,000 dead, though):

“[W]hen the multitude were come together to Jerusalem, to the feast of unleavened bread, and a Roman cohort stood over the cloisters of the temple (for they always were armed, and kept guard at the festivals, to prevent any innovation which the multitude thus gathered together might make), one of the soldiers pulled back his garment, and cowering down after an indecent manner, turned his breech to the Jews, and spake such words as you might expect upon such a posture. At this the whole multitude had indignation, and made a clamor to Cumanus, that he would punish the soldier. The rasher part of the youth, and such as were naturally the most tumultuous, fell to fighting, and caught up stones, and threw them at the soldiers. Upon which Cumanus was afraid lest all the people should make an assault upon him, and sent to call for more armed men, who, when they came in great numbers into the cloisters, the Jews were in a very great consternation. Being beaten out of the temple, they ran into the city. The violence with which they crowded to get out was so great that they trod upon each other, and squeezed one another, till ten thousand of them were killed, insomuch that this feast became the cause of mourning to the whole nation, and every family lamented their own relations” (War 2.223-227; the translation here is William Whiston’s as cited on PACE (with punctuation slightly revised), which also supplies the parallel passage in Josephus’ Antiquities.

These are just two examples of what repeated itself at certain points, contributing to what would become a full revolt in 66 CE.

Judean culture in the second-temple period (c. 500 BCE-70 CE) was diverse. And it is important to remember that what we often call “early Christianity” or, perhaps better, the Jesus-movement was in fact one among many Judean groups or sects in first century Palestine and the Mediterranean diaspora (Jews also lived in Greek and Roman cities outside of Israel).

Among groups within Judaism or Judean culture, we happen to know most about the sects that the Jewish historian Josephus styles as three (or four) Judean “philosophies” (especially in War 2.119-166 and Antiquities 18.11-25, produced in the 70s and 90s CE). The works of Josephus, along with all kinds of supporting information, are available online on the PACE (Project on Ancient Cultural Engagement) site.

In more than one passage, Josephus speaks of the Pharisees, the Sadducees, and the Essenes. In one of them he tacks on the so-called “fourth philosophy,” a violent group stemming, Josephus’ claims, from the tax-related rebellion (c. 6 CE) associated with Judas of Galilee and including, in his view, the sicarii assassins of the mid-first century. The difficulty is that Josephus’ account of each of these groups is brief and sketchy, and he has certain axes to grind. It is from Josephus, for instance, that we hear some reliable information that the Pharisees were concerned with the exact interpretation of the law and that they believed in some form of future resurrection (”immortality of the soul”), while the Sadducees did not believe in such a resurrection (War 2.162). Josephus doesn’t hesitate to make value judgements in his descriptions, though. Thus he says that the Pharisees are friendly and nice to the public while the Sadducees treat one another badly and treat outsiders worse (War 2.162).

Our other sources for the groups mentioned by Josephus are likewise not unbiased. One could say that the gospels, especially Matthew, reverse the bias regarding Pharisees in that this Jewish author of Matthew would not feel bad if readers (or hearers) of his writing came away with the notion that “Pharisees” and “hypocrites” were synonyms (see Matthew 23). So we lack clear and detailed information concerning these groups. Discoveries such as the scrolls found on the edge of the Dead Sea since the 1940s may expand our picture of at least one of the groups that Josephus discusses, but the identification of the Dead Sea community as Essenes is uncertain (see Pliny the Elder’s description of the Essenes on the Dead Sea coast in his Natural History, 5.15.17). So our information is meager for even these best known groups, let alone the many other movements that were active in the first century.

Rather than go into the details of what Josephus says about each, what I want to emphasize here is that the ones he mentions in these substantial passages were by no means the only groups. In fact, it seems that Josephus has in mind only the more educated classes in his discussion (hence his use of the designation “philosophies” for his Greek-speaking audience). All four of these groups consisted primarily of the literate, probably less than ten percent of the population at the time. In fact, Josephus explicitly states that the Essenes numbered only in the thousands (he says four thousand in Ant. 18.1.5 [20]), and it is likely that each of the other three were likewise in the thousands at most. So what about the remaining population of Judea, Samaria, and Galilee, which would have been into the millions?

Once again, Josephus happens to give us hints in his incidental stories of this or that prophet or “king” (messiah), though he tends not to like these other popular movements within Judea, Samaria, or Galilee. He gathers together a number of cases in just one time period alone, in a collection of what he calls a sampling of “ten thousand disorders” (Antiquities 17.269-285). One example from another period will suffice here, this one involving a prophetic figure named Theudas who gained a following in the 40s CE:

Now it came to pass, while Fadus was procurator of Judea, that a certain magician, whose name was Theudas, persuaded a great part of the people to take their effects with them, and follow him to the river Jordan. For he told them he was a prophet, and that he would, by his own command, divide the river, and afford them an easy passage over it; and many were deluded by his words. However, Fadus did not permit them to make any advantage of his wild attempt, but sent a troop of horsemen out against them; who, falling upon them unexpectedly, slew many of them, and took many of them alive. They also took Theudas alive, and cut off his head, and carried it to Jerusalem. This was what befell the Jews in the time of Cuspius Fadus’s government (Antiquities 20.97; trans. by William Whiston cited from PACE).

The Jesus-movement (what we now call “early Christianity”) should be understood, in part, within the context of many popular and not-so-popular Jewish movements and sects in the first century. We need to remember that this was a movement within Judaism, not a separate religion.

In writing this post, my memory was refreshed by Lester L. Grabbe, Judaism from Cyrus to Hadrian. Volume Two: The Roman Period (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992), especially pp. 463-554.

A very important part of Satan’s identity within Christianity is the notion that Satan is the chief angel among a group that rebelled against God and fell from their original position in the heavenly realm. We first have clear signs of this critical component in Satan’s story around 200 BCE in a Jewish writing in the Pseudepigrapha known as 1 Enoch (text and introductions online here). 1 Enoch is an apocalypse in terms of genre and is a composite work, divided into five books, with book one (chapters 1-36) being among the earliest (on which go to my earlier post here for further clarification).

What is most important here is that book one of 1 Enoch presents a midrash (interpretation) and considerable expansion of a few mysterious verses in Genesis (6:1-8): the account of the “sons of God” (angelic figures) mating with human women that immediately precedes the story of God sending the flood. “Enoch’s” visions explain the origins of evil and sin among humanity, and in this case suggest that ultimately evil came from the divine realm by way of fallen angels. Issues regarding the degree to which humans, on the one hand, or divine beings (angels), on the other, were responsible for the introduction and continuation of evil and sin among humanity would continue to occupy those who told and re-told the story of Satan in subsequent centuries. Some would configure things differently than book one of 1 Enoch does.

In the process of explaining the origins of evil, this author seems to blend together two separate traditions that existed before his time concerning a conspiracy among certain angels (perhaps drawing on a lost work called the “Book of Noah”, mentioned in the book of Jubilees ch. 10, for one of these traditions). The reason we can detect these traditions is that, in 1 Enoch, there are inconsistencies in who was the leader of the rebel angels (see further John J. Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination). At times the author speaks of Semyaz (Semihazah) as the chief and at others of Azazel (Asa’el). Not only that, but the author seems to have preserved the different emphases of each tradition. The Semyaz material portrays the conspiracy against God as centred on the sexual act of union with humans and the Azazel tradition focusses on how the fallen angels subsequently reveal secrets of heaven to humanity, including skills that led to war and seduction, to the general chaos that brings the flood. For this author, the offspring of the mixing of divine and human are giants whose spirits after death are demons that continue to mislead humanity (15:8-12).

The result of this whole conspiracy is war and chaos on earth. God consults with his trusted angels, such as Michael and Raphael, to arrange punishment of both the humans and the fallen angels, referring to the end of days in the process:

“then spoke the Most High. . . ‘the earth and everything will be destroyed. And the deluge is about to come upon all the earth; and all that is in it will be destroyed.’ . . . And secondly the Lord said to Raphael, ‘Bind Azazel hand and foot and throw him into the darkness!’ And he (Raphael) made a hole in the desert. . . he threw on top of him (Azazel) rugged and sharp rocks. And he covered his face in order that he may not see light; and in order that he may be sent into the fire on the great day of judgment.” (1 Enoch 10:1-7; trans. by E. Isaac in James H. Charlesworth, ed. The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha [2 vols. New York: Doubleday, 1983-85], p. 17)

The imprisonment and end-time fate of this fallen angel here resembles the fate of “the ancient serpent, who is the Devil and Satan” in John’s Apocalypse (20:1-10), as we shall soon see. As in other apocalyptic writings, the flood of long ago becomes a precursor or foreshadow of God’s final intervention in the end times, the “great day of judgment”, when the angels who rebelled, along with the humans who sided with them by doing evil, will meet their end. The righteous ones, on the other hand, will go on to live in a new world cleansed “from all sin and from all iniquity” (see 10:17-22).

The name “Satan” itself does not appear here at all, but the fallen angels story was soon to be linked up with passages involving the angelic adversary (”satan”) in the Hebrew Bible, as we begin to see in the likes of Jubilees (chapters 10-11; c. 150-105 BCE). Still later (in the second and third centuries CE), this notion of fallen angels would also be linked up (by Christian authors) with a passage that originally referred to the Babylonian king as cosmic rebel in Isaiah 14, the “Day Star, Son of Dawn” who falls from heaven (where he imagines himself to belong). Part of the phrase just mentioned was translated into Latin by Jerome (in 410 CE) as “Lucifer”. Looking far ahead to the 1600s, it would be hard to imagine Milton’s Paradise Lost without the story of Satan or Lucifer as the chief rebel angel who fell from heaven’s height.

I am presently researching questions of cultural interactions in antiquity, particularly with regard to the ways in which immigrants (including Jews) both found a place for themselves within the cities of the Roman empire and maintained their own specific ties with the culture of their homeland. So I thought I’d write a brief post appropriate to the holiday season while addressing issues of acculturation (adopting and adapting to cultural practices of others) and the simultaneous maintenance of cultural or ethnic identities. And I’ll use two Jewish families to illustrate. (This is by no means meant to be a comprehensive discussion of the Maccabean revolt, Hanukkah, and New Year’s, by the way).

On the one hand is the story of a Jewish family who refused to adapt to foreign deities and led a revolt which successfully “cleansed” and re-dedicated the temple in Jerusalem in the 160s BCE. I am speaking of the Maccabees who are at the centre of the story of the festival of Hanukkah, or Chanukah (”Dedication”; for a brief online article go here). The years following Alexander the Great’s conquest of the Mediterranean (he died in 323 BCE) were a time of complicated cultural interactions as peoples living in various parts of the known world gradually adjusted to and/or reacted against the Hellenistic (Greek) customs that made their way through governmental, trade, and other social networks. As you can imagine there was a variety of reactions to Hellenistic ways and religions on the ground. Some, such as the Syrian soldiers who identified their own god — in this case Syrian Ba’al Shamem (”Lord of Heaven”) — with a Greek deity (Zeus Olympios), more readily adopted Hellenistic modes of expression. At the same time these same Syrians were also clearly maintaining certain aspects of their own specific religious practices and worldviews (it was Ba’al they worshipped under the guise of Zeus, so to speak).

We know from the story of the Maccabees itself that Judeans (Jews) were not universally agreed on what aspects of Greek culture should or should not be tolerated, adopted, or adapted. Some Judeans were willing to establish a Hellenistic-style city (polis) and gymnasium in Jerusalem, for instance. What the Maccabees and most other Judeans agreed on, however, was that their tradition of monotheistic worship in the Jerusalem temple not be compromised by identifying their God with any god of the Greeks (a “syncretistic” custom that was common in most other places where polytheism prevaled). So when the Syrian soldiers stationed in Jerusalem established an altar in the Jerusalem temple in order to offer sacrifices to Ba’al, this was normal for the soldiers but the last straw for the Maccabees and others like them (see First, Second, Third and Fourth Maccabees in the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha, available online by clicking on the numbers above). The Maccabean revolt resulted in the cleansing and re-dedication of the temple which are, essentially, the institution of the Hanukkah celebration (according to 1 Maccabees):

“Early in the morning on the twenty-fifth day of the ninth month, which is the month of Chislev. . . they rose and offered sacrifice, as the law directs, on the new altar of burnt offering that they had built. At the very season and on the very day that the Gentiles had profaned it, it was dedicated with songs and harps and lutes and cymbals. . . Then Judas [Maccabee] and his brothers and all the assembly of Israel determined that every year at that season the days of dedication of the altar should be observed with joy and gladness for eight days. . . ” (1 Maccabees 4:52-59 [NRSV]).

Grave of a Jewish family at Hierapolis (IJO II 196; photo by Phil)

On the other hand is a Jewish family settled in Hierapolis (a Greek city in Asia Minor) who apparently celebrated the Roman New Year’s festival (feast of Kalends), as well as customary Jewish festivals including Passover and Pentecost. Our evidence for this comes from a family grave dating to the third century CE, which happens to preserve for us the arrangements that a certain man made for himself and his family ( IJO II 196, revising CIJ 777). (I have a forthcoming article that deals at length with questions of acculturation and identity among Jews in Hierapolis which I will post, if possible, when it comes out. In the mean time, for more on Jews, Christians and guilds in Hierapolis and the Lycos valley, go here.)

It was customary for wealthier people in Asia Minor to make arrangements (leave money) for particular people or a group, such as a guild, to come to the family grave on a regular basis and to care for the grave itself. What stands out in this case is that Glykon and his wife, Amia, who were apparently Jews, arranged to have local guilds of purple-dyers and carpet-weavers (who likely included non-Jews in their membership) attend to the grave-ceremonies on both Jewish and Roman holidays. The Roman New Year festival, a precedessor of our New Year celebrations, took place in early January and, as Ovid emphasizes, centred on the exchange of “good wishes” and gifts, including “sweet” gifts (e.g. dates, figs, honey), as well as cash, indicating an omen of a sweet year to come (Fasti 1.171-194). The celebrations were also associated with the Roman god Janus (hence January). Here, then, is a family that clearly maintained Jewish aspects of its identity and arranged for others to continue to remember them on Jewish holy days, but also a family that adapted to some Roman practices, in this case the New Year celebration.

I’ll post again in the new year. Have a good one.

UPDATE (Dec 23): For two different media takes on the Maccabees and Hanukkah (mentioned by Jim Davila), see Hanukka and Hellenization (Jerusalem Post) and The Maccabees and the Hellenists (Slate).

(Dec. 27): Even more media reflections on the Hasmoneans a.k.a. Maccabees (thanks to Jim Davila’s keen eye) here and here.

When scholars of early Judaism and Christianity identify a writing as an “apocalypse” (in terms of genre), they usually have in mind a first-person visionary report that claims to narrate a “revelation” (apocalypsis) from God himself. Almost always the content of the visions that are narrated also presuppose or directly pertain to an apocalyptic worldview, namely, an ideology in which this present world is dominated by evil forces (headed by Satan, or Beliar, or what have you) which will ultimately and imminently be destroyed (or perpetually punished) in the final intervention of God and his angelic forces (there is a thoroughgoing dualism in this way of thinking).

One of the two main types of apocalyptic writing that have been identified is the so-called “historical apocalypse”. Here the focus of the visions relates to the unfolding of God’s historical plans (on this, see John J. Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination, which is browsable online here). The Book of Daniel in the Hebrew Bible (written about 160s BCE) and John’s Apocalypse or Revelation (written about 70-90 CE) in the New Testament are largely characterized by this historical focus: both relate the unfolding of God’s plan for history in relation to actual political powers (Hellenistic kings and Roman emperors, respectively), and these political powers are cast in the role of the ultimate evil opponents of God (on John’s Apocalypse see my earlier post on Worshiping the Beast / Honouring the Emperor or my article here).

The second main type of apocalypse is the “otherworldly journey”. Here the visionary is taken on a tour of the far reaches of the world and beyond, usually a tour of either the heavens or the underworld (hell). The earliest surviving example of this type is the first book (chs. 1-36) of 1 Enoch (online here) written about 200 BCE, in which the Enoch of Genesis is presented as the visionary who expounds the story of the fallen angels (Gen 6) and is guided by an angel in order to witness the workings of the universe.

In its present Christian form, the Ascension of Isaiah (reflecting materials ranging from the second century BCE to as late as the fourth century CE; online here) consists of the story of the prophet Isaiah’s martyrdom (who is sawn in half) and a report of Isaiah’s vision in which Isaiah is taken on a journey through the seven heavens with an angel as guide (chs. 1-5 and 6-11 respectively). The martyrdom and the vision are linked in their present form, since it is because Isaiah had gone on the tour, witnessing God’s plan to send his Beloved (Christ) to destroy the evil powers, that Beliar (Satan) seeks to have Isaiah killed (through the evil angel Sammael and king Mannaseh) (3:13).

Isaiah’s otherworldly journey begins as he ascends with the angel-guide to “the firmament” above the world, but below the heavens. Isaiah then proceeds through each of the seven heavens. In each heaven he witnesses a throne flanked by angels, and the glory of each heaven and its angels increases until he reaches the final, seventh heaven, the dwelling place of the Most High (God) and his “Beloved” (Lord Christ). There, says Isaiah,

“I saw all the righteous from Adam. And I saw there the holy Abel and all the righteous. And there I saw Enoch and all who were with him, stripped of the garment of the flesh, and I saw them in their higher garments, and they were like the angels who stand there in great glory” (Ascension of Isaiah 9:7-9; trans. by Müller in Schneemelcher)

Isaiah then gains a revelation of what will occur in the future, final intervention of God (the end times). Ascending and descending are important not only for Isaiah here, but also for other key figures in the apocalyptic visions. Isaiah hears the voice of the Most High himself calling on his Beloved (Lord Christ) to descend, to trace the steps that Isaiah had just traversed, in other words:

“Go and descend through all the heavens; descend to the firmament and to that world, even to the angel in the realm of the dead (on the descent to hell see my other posts on Satan) . . . that you may judge and destroy the prince and his angels and the gods of this world and the world which is ruled by them, for they have denied me and said ‘We alone are, and there is none beside us’. And afterwards you will ascend from the angels of death to your place, and you will not be transformed in each heaven [i.e. you will not be affected by the inferiority of each heaven in relation to the seventh heaven], but in glory you will ascend and sit on my right hand. And the princes and powers of this world will worship you” (Ascension of Isaiah 10.7-14).

Almost immediately, Isaiah then witnesses the descent and ascent of the Beloved (Christ). But there is more of this ascending and descending. Earlier in this writing we learn that, as part of the “consummation” of the world, an anti-Beloved (so to speak), Beliar himself, will be sent before the Beloved comes:

“And after it has come to its consummation, Beliar, the great prince, the king of this world who has ruled it since it came into being, shall descend; he will come down from his firmament in the form of a man, a lawless king, a slayer of his mother, who . . . will persecute the plant which the Twelve Apostles of the Beloved have planted; and one of the twelve will be delivered into his hand. . . All that he desires he will do in the world; he will act and speak in the name of the Beloved and say ‘I am God and before me there has been none else’. And all the people in the world will believe in him, and will sacrifice to him and serve him saying, ‘This is God and beside him there is none other’ . . . And after (one thousand) three hundred and thirty-two days the Lord will come with his angels and with the hosts of the saints from the seventh heaven with the glory of the seventh heaven, and will drag Beliar with his hosts into Gehenna” (4:1-14).

In a manner reminiscent of John’s Apocalypse (esp. ch. 13), the author is here presenting an end-time evil figure in the form of an actual king and, more specifically, a king modelled on a returning emperor Nero (Nero redivivus) who is worshipped as a god (alluding to the Roman imperial cult, on which go here for a brief discussion or here for an entire article). It is important to remember that the line between “otherworldly journey” apocalypses and “historical” apocalypses is by no means stark (as with the fluidity of genre as a whole), and there are some apocalypses with the characteristics of each, of course.

The ascending and descending theme is an important component in this apocalyptic author’s worldview, and the apocalyptic seer’s own guided tour gives him a first-hand experience of otherworldly travel himself.

UPDATE (Dec. 15): Now also see Alan S. Bandy’s collection of various scholarly definitions of the apocalyptic genre.

As Jim Davila points out, there is an article in the new issue of the American Journal of Archaeology which argues on numismatic (coin) evidence that the Sardis synagogue dates to the sixth century, about two centuries later than commonly suggested (Jodi Magness, “The Date of the Sardis Synagogue in Light of the Numismatic Evidence,” AJA 109 [2005] 443-47). The mosaic floors in the Sardis synagogue, which is located within the larger Greco-Roman bath-gymnasium complex, had previously been dated to the mid-fourth century based on coins found beneath the intact mosaics of the synagogue floor (primarily during the excavations of the 1960s).

(The main hall of the Sardis synagogue, showing the mosaic floors [ by Phil]).

However, Magness carefully re-evaluates all published reports and descriptions and throws into doubt this evaluation of the numismatic (coin) evidence. She points out how there are indeed coins found under the mosaic floors that date considerably later, including coins from the fifth and sixth centuries under both the forecourt and main hall floors (some of which were perhaps too easily dismissed as “contamination” or explained away in other ways once the fourth century dating was the working hypothesis). If this is indeed a correct revision, then many books and articles on the Sardis synagogue will become obsolete, so to speak. Certainly my discussion of the synagogue on my website (here) will need to be substantially revised if this newer view is true. I am somewhat convinced by Magness’ argument, but will need time to digest this further before deciding whether the suggested sixth century date for the mosaic floors is more likely.
(Right: Photo of the synagogue forecourt at Sardis).

At this point it is worth saying that even if the mosaic floors are sixth century, this does not rule out the possibility that the Jews were making use of the structure before that final, major overhaul. In fact, this is precisely what has been argued by the excavators, including Andrew R. Seager, who suggested that the Jews acquired and used this section of the bath-gymnasium (in so called stage 3) before making the final renovation with the mosaic floors (in stage 4). It is the mid-fourth century date for stage 4 that Magness is challenging.

It is worth briefly placing this discussion within other recent re-evaluations of the dates of other diaspora synagogue buildings and Jewish monuments. On pushing dates back, I have previously discussed Monika Trümper’s recent article which suggests an even earlier date for the synagogue on Delos. On pushing dates forward, Angelos Chaniotis convincingly argues that the donation inscription from Aphrodisias, which includes references to god-fearers, should now be dated to the fourth or fifth centuries, not the second or third (see Angelos Chaniotis, “The Jews of Aphrodisias: New Evidence and Old Problems.” Scripta Classica Israelica 21 [2002] 209-42). It will be intriguing to watch the reaction to Magness’ article and its impact on the study of diaspora Judaism, since the Sardis synagogue is often cited in broader discussions of the relations of diaspora Jews to Greco-Roman culture in the imperial (not later Byzantine) period.

Further to my earlier post on Greco-Roman paradoxography, there is another that I thought may be of interest. (See the earlier post two entries below). I talked about the second century author Phlegon. Another was Apollonios, who may have written in the second century BCE. One of his “marvels” (drawing on an author named Theopompos) comes across like a Twilight Zone episode:

It is said that Epimenides of Crete was sent by his father and uncles to their farm to bring a sheep back to town. When night overtook him he left the path and slept for fifty-seven years. . . In the meantime the members of Epimenides’s household died, and when he awoke from his sleep he looked for the sheep he had been sent to bring. . . he assumed that he had awoken on the same day on which he had fallen asleep–but he found that the farm was sold and the equipment was changed(Hansen, p. 6).

Now that’s a good long nap.

UPDATE: Ken Penner (McMaster U.) comments that there is an interesting parallel story in the OT Pseudepigrapha in 4 Baruch, chapter 5. There Abimelech, a contemporary of Jeremiah, gets tired while carrying figs, lies down for a nap, and doesn’t wake up for 66 years. He similarly is confused by all the changes when he returns to Jerusalem. In this case, God sent this “stupor” upon Abimelech so that he would not have to witness the Babylonian attack on Jerusalem and the exile of its people. After the 66 year nap, Abimelech wakes up and (with humorous effect) says, “I would like to nap a little longer, because my head is weighed down, but I’m afraid I might fall fast asleep and be late waking up” (trans. by S.E. Robinson in James H. Charlesworth, ed. The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha. 2 vols. New York: Doubleday, 1983-85). The Greek text is available at the Online Critical Pseudepigrapha (OCP) site.

Unofficial groups in the Greco-Roman world that I (and others) typically call “associations” used a variety of terms to describe themselves. Some of the favourite Greek terms were synodos (”synod”), koinon, synergasia (”guild”), thiasos (”cult-society”), and mystai (”initiates”). Today, when people (including many scholars) hear the term synagogue or head-of-the-synagogue (archisynagogos) they tend to assume some Jewish group (or building) is in mind. However, the term synagogue (stemming from the Greek synagō, meaning to gather or bring together) was also used by other “pagan” associations and was not necessarily a sign of Jewish connections.

Thus, for instance, one monument from Apamea in Bithynia (northern Asia Minor / Turkey), which involves a group of men and women devotees (thiasitai and thiastides) honouring a priestess of Cybele (the Great Mother), mentions that the inscription was set up in the “synagogue” of Zeus (IApamBith 35). Across the Propontis in Perinthos-Herakleia in Thracia, there was an occupationally-based “synagogue of oar (or small-ware) dealers” that shows no sign of Jewish connections (IPerinthos 59 [first or second century]). At both Beroia and Hagios Mamas in Macedonia there were associations (devoted to Poseidon and a hero-god respectively) whose main leader was known as the head-of-the-synagogue (archisynagogos) (IMakedD 747 [second century]; SEG 27 [1977] 267). And there are many other “pagan” cases where the chief leader of the group, as in some Jewish gatherings, was termed head-of-the-synagogue (e.g. NewDocs I 5; IG X.2 288-289; SEG 42 [1992] 625).

Diaspora Jewish groups (including Jesus-devotees) shared more in common with “run-of-the-mill” associations of the Greco-Roman world than often acknowledged, and their “gatherings” would have been viewed as such by outsiders in some important respects.

To read more about associations in the Greco-Roman world, as well as their relevance to early Judaism and Christianity, go here.

Until recently, the suggestion that members of the early Christian congregations may have simultaneously been members in other associations and guilds remained under-explored. In my book, I dealt with the question of multiple memberships in connection with the Christians at Corinth (addressed by Paul in 1 Cor 8 and 10) who were attending banquets alongside non-Christians (”pagans”). I also considered the possibility that the opponents addressed by John’s Apocalypse, especially those accused of eating idol-food (or idol-meat) with “Jezebel”, may have been encountering sacrificial food as members in the guilds of Thyatira (something that William Ramsay suggested, but did not explore, long ago). For all this, see pp. 205-10, 259-63 of Associations, Synagogues, and Congregations.

In a more recent article dealing with Sardis and Smyrna, which you can read on my site, I looked at the implications of multiple memberships for questions of rivalries and competition among different groups.

I have now just read a very interesting article on associations on the island of Rhodes by Vincent Gabrielson, which drew my attention to another interesting case of multiple memberships in associations (dealing with IG XII[1] 155). A man named Dionysodoros, who was an immigrant from Alexandria (in Egypt), was honoured by a number of associations (koina) at Rhodes in the second century BCE, including the “Haliasts and Haliads,” the “Paniasts,” and the “Dionysiasts” (devoted to the god Dionysos). A closer look at this lengthy inscription shows that he was not only honoured by these groups, but was also a member in at least four associations at Rhodes! (See Vincent Gabrielson, “The Rhodian Associations Honouring Dionysodoros from Alexandria, ” Classica et mediaevalia 45 [1994] 137-60.)

And these memberships were not fleeting. Dionysodoros was a member of the “Haliasts and Haliads” for 35 years, and he acted as their chief-of-banquets (archeranistas) for 23 years. Simultaneously he was a faithful member and benefactor of other associations, including the “Paniasts” whom he served as chief-of-banquets for at least 18 years. This is the sort of atmosphere of multiple affiliations and interactions in which the early Christians and diaspora Jews found themselves. So we should not be too surprised if we find some Jews or Christians going to synagogue or church one day, and hanging out with friends in the guild or association the next.

Two recent studies challenge L. Michael White’s suggestion that many synagogue buildings developed from earlier domestic buildings (that is, houses). In the case of the Greek island of Delos, Monika Trümper argues that the building variously identified as either a Samaritan or a Judean synagogue (known as GD80) shows no signs of having been a domestic dwelling. Furthermore, she also challenges those (such as Donald Binder, who also has a very good website) who suggest that the building was previously used by a “pagan” association and only later acquired by the Samaritans. Instead, her interpretation of the remains suggests that the building was used by the Judeans/Jews (or Samaritans) from as early as the second century B.C.E. If this is true, then this would represent the earliest known synagogue building in the dispersion. See the extensive article by Monika Trümper, “The Oldest Original Synagogue Building in the Diaspora: The Delos Synagogue Reconsidered,” Hesperia 73 (2004) 513-598. UPDATE: Article available free online (without original page numbers and without photos and figures) at find articles.

In the case of the port city of Rome, Ostia, Anders Runesson convincingly shows that the archeological evidence previously used to support the notion that the building was originally a house is incorrect. Instead, he argues that “the original edifice was public and monumental, containing a triclinium for common meals, and dated to the late Julio-Claudian period” (first century CE) (p. 171). See Anders Runesson, “A Monumental Synagogue from the First Century: The Case of Ostia,” Journal for the Study of Judaism 33 (2002) 171-220.

The photo to the right shows a menorah (seven-branched candle-holder) on the capital of a column of the Ostia synagogue. For a photographic tour of the various guild-buildings at Ostia, as well as more photos of the synagogue, go to another section of my website here.

It will be interesting to watch the debate develop now as these common notions (at least since the 1990s) concerning the origins of the synagogue are challenged.

Runesson’s excellent survey of research on the The Origins of the Synagogue: A Socio-Historical Study (2001) is among the recent works that convincingly argues that, both socially and architecturally, synagogues have much in common with associations or collegia in the Greco-Roman world. There is an interesting online article by Runesson, which summarizes some of his work, here.