Jjmjs 1 online

Issue 1 (2014)

Introducing JJMJS: A New Interdisciplinary Journal Eschatology and Messianism in the Gabriel Inscription TORLEIF ELGVIN Paul’s Non-Jews Do Not Become ‘Jews,’ But Do They Become ‘Jewish’?

MARK NANOS Shared Interpretive Traditions of Joseph’s ‘s w f r o s u /n h ’ and ‘Silence’ in De Iosepho and the Testament of Joseph DIETER ROTH The Epistle of James as a Witness to Broader Patterns of Jewish Exegetical Discourse SERGE RUZER Heresy Without Orthodoxy: Josephus and the Rabbis on the Dangers of Illegitimate Jewish Beliefs JONATHAN KLAWANS Alternative Visions of Judaism and Their Impact on the Formation of Rabbinic Judaism KARIN HEDNER ZETTERHOLM The Jewish Annotated New Testament: A Review Article CRAIG A. EVANS

ISSN 2374-7862

JOURNAL OF THE JESUS MOVEMENT IN ITS JEWISH SETTING: FROM THE FIRST TO THE SEVENTH CENTURY

Editorial Committee Torleif Elgvin (NLA University College, Norway) Paula Fredriksen (The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Israel) Anders Runesson (McMaster University, Canada) Alexei Sivertsev (DePaul University, USA) Managing Editor: Knut H. Høyland (managingeditor@jjmjs.org) Editorial Secretary: Andreas Johansson (edsecr@jjmjs.org) Forum Director: Ralph J. Korner Linguistic editing and layout: C. Osborne Cover design: Heidi Tohmola

The Journal of the Jesus Movement in Its Jewish Setting (JJMJS) is an independent open-access peer-reviewed journal. It is published online and in print in cooperation with Eisenbrauns, P.O.Box 275, Winona Lake, IN 46590, USA. All content in JJMJS is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution License. Correspondence and papers for submission should be directed to the managing editor, Knut H. Høyland, at managingeditor@jjmjs.org. For further information regarding copyright and submissions please visit our website.

ISSN 2374-7862 (Print) ISSN 2374-7870 (Online)

www.jjmjs.org

JOURNAL OF THE JESUS MOVEMENT IN ITS JEWISH SETTING: FROM THE FIRST TO THE SEVENTH CENTURY Issue 1 (2014)

www.jjmjs.org

Introducing JJMJS: A New Interdisciplinary Journal We are pleased to present the first issue of Journal of the Jesus Movement in Its Jewish Setting: From the First to the Seventh Century (JJMJS). JJMJS is a peerreviewed, open-access journal published in collaboration with Eisenbrauns, offering high quality research free of charge to a global audience. The journal aims to advance scholarship on this crucial period in the early history of the Jewish and Christian traditions when they developed into what are today known as two world religions, mutually shaping one another as they did so.

In recent years, scholars in various subfields within New Testament studies, Christian origins, early Jewish studies, the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha, Dead Sea Scrolls, rabbinics, patristics, and archaeology have increasingly focused on issues related to this development, the importance of which can hardly be overstated. However, while considerable progress and findings of great significance have been made, it has become clear that, to the detriment of the progression of knowledge, there is limited communication between these inter-related areas of research, even though developments in one field may have direct implications for findings in the others.

This situation is likely due to traditional divisions between academic disciplines, divisions with roots that go back centuries and reflect the distinct identities of contemporary forms of Judaism and Christianity. Recent research has, however, challenged assumptions about such distinct identities as applied to the ancient period, requiring scholars to rethink the way the source material is categorized and approached, as well as how undergraduate and graduate programs and courses are structured in academic institutions.

There have been several efforts within academic societies, such as the Society of Biblical Literature, to address this new situation through introducing new consultations and sections dealing with the many challenges that scholarship is now faced with, including revisions of the terminology used in historical analyses.1 As a consequence of these scholarly developments, we are currently experiencing what may be described as the early stages of a transformation of the study and teaching of the early histories of what became Judaism and Christianity.

Such a transformation brings with it the need to rethink the shape of scholarly communication and the sharing of research results between disciplines.

1

Note, e.g., the SBL Paul and Judaism and Jewish Christianity/Christian Judaism sections.

2 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

No forum exists today which focuses uniquely on these issues over an extended period of time and across disciplines, allowing for—and even emphasizing the importance of—diverse methodological approaches. This is so despite the fact that distinct Jewish and Christian identities took centuries to form, making the study of one of the traditions methodologically dependent on equal attention to the other. JJMJS wants to address this need, to facilitate and encourage scholarly communication across disciplinary boundaries, and to make the results of cutting-edge research available to a worldwide audience.

The purpose of JJMJS is, then, to publish research on any topic that directly addresses or has implications for the understanding of Judaism and the Jesus movement from the first to the seventh century. We welcome the submission of studies within any of the following fields: Christian origins, New Testament studies, early Jewish studies (including Philo and Josephus), the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha, rabbinic studies, patristics, history of ancient Christianity, reception history, and archaeology. Since methodological diversity is an important factor in interdisciplinary research, we encourage authors to apply any type of methodology that is effective for the task at hand, including but not limited to literary, rhetorical, linguistic, sociohistorical, intellectual-historical, social scientific, and archaeological approaches.

This aim of publishing leading research of interdisciplinary relevance to the fields of study mentioned, as well as the journal’s commitment to global communication of scholarship, made it necessary for us to carefully consider the venue through which the purpose of JJMJS could be realized most effectively.

We strongly believe that broad dissemination of research is not only central to the academic enterprise as it relates to the society which it serves, but will also benefit research itself, inspiring new thinking and insights within and between different academic settings around the globe.2 This is all the more important when the unavoidably interdisciplinary character of the study of the intertwined histories of Judaism and Christianity is taken into consideration.

2

Cf. the mission statement at the Berlin 11 Open Access Conference of the Max Planck Society, issued in 2013, ten years after the Berlin Declaration on Open Access to Knowledge in the Sciences and Humanities, which states that “a stable, competitive, and quality-assured O[pen] A[ccess] research publishing system offers immense benefits not only to scholarship but also to society as a whole” (http://openaccess.mpg.de/mission -statement_en; [accessed August 20, 2014]). For those who are new to open access publishing, see the widely acclaimed introduction by Peter Sauber, Open Access (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2012): www.cyber.law.harvard.edu/hoap/Open_Access_(the_book) [accessed August 20, 2014].

Introducing JJMJS 3

In light of this, the Internet presents itself as a very useful tool for the dissemination of knowledge. Recent years have seen the emergence of various innovative forms of open-access publishing across all academic fields, challenging more traditional ways of communicating scholarly discussions and results. The Berlin Declaration on Open Access to Knowledge in the Sciences and Humanities defines open access as “a comprehensive source of human knowledge and cultural heritage that has been approved by the scientific community.”3 The open-access movement has rightly been described as accelerating the pace of scientific discovery, encouraging innovation, and enriching education; it is evident that, while still developing, open-access publication has come to stay. This does not mean, however, that traditional print has disappeared; for many reasons, print publication is still—and will remain— important. Therefore, we have worked closely with Eisenbrauns to generate a form of publication that not only responds to present demands but also represents an innovative move in that it combines the advantages of open-access publishing (free, immediate, and global access to scholarship) with the benefits associated with traditional print publication by a well-established and highly regarded publisher. In addition to the online version of JJMJS, then, Eisenbrauns will publish hard copies of each issue of the journal.

Further, the JJMJS website forum provides an opportunity for readers and authors to interact with one another, a feature that will facilitate succinct informal discussion and exchange of ideas without each participant in the conversation having to produce article-length responses and submit them for peer review. The forum is monitored by JJMJS personnel, but we encourage authors to interact directly with reader queries and comments. This arrangement will, we hope, strike the right balance between shorter conversations and in-depth presentations of research results, accelerating the process of scholarly exchange in order to facilitate new discoveries and theoretical innovation in the field. We are grateful to Eisenbrauns for working with us to achieve this goal; their flexibility and dedication to the advancement of scholarship have been indispensable in the process of planning and launching the journal.

Over time, JJMJS will build an online archive with the goal of providing scholars and students with unrestricted and easily accessible cutting-edge 3

Berlin Declaration on Open Access to Knowledge in the Sciences and Humanities, the Max Planck Society, 2003 (http://openaccess.mpg.de/286432/Berlin-Declaration [accessed August 20, 2014]).

4 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

research. The journal publishes first and foremost new research, but it may also re-publish, to a limited degree, studies that the editors deem to be essential for the field. This may include translation of studies originally published in languages other than English in order to make them available for a wider English speaking audience. We encourage readers to submit suggestions for such articles to the managing editor. While JJMJS does not contain a review section, we accept longer review articles of major publications relevant to the purpose of the journal. Such articles will give the reader the benefit of more detailed discussions of new advances in the field than is possible in shorter reviews.

The editors would like to thank their co-workers on the editorial committee and the experts on the editorial board, who enthusiastically have made their skills available despite busy schedules. We would like to recognize the initiative and efforts of Dr. Eli Lizorkin-Eyzenberg, now at Hebrew University’s eTeacherBiblical, and Knut H. Høyland, the managing editor of JJMJS, as the journal first began to take form. In addition to his current position as a member of the editorial board, Professor Rainer Riesner, Dortmund University, has also played an important role in the shaping of the journal. Andreas Johansson, editorial secretary of JJMJS, and Heidi Tohmola and Cindy Osborne of Caspari Center have all provided technical assistance as the journal and the website were designed. Finally, Dale Askey, associate university librarian at McMaster University, has assisted us as we have worked with the details of the open-access format. JJMJS remains an independent academic journal and does not represent any particular theological school or religious organization.

We look forward to many years of academic discussion and debate as we work together with readers and contributors to take the study of the earliest histories of what developed into Judaism and Christianity to the next level.

Torleif Elgvin (NLA University College, Oslo) Paula Fredriksen (The Hebrew University of Jerusalem) Anders Runesson (McMaster University, Hamilton, ON) Alexei Sivertsev (DePaul University, Chicago) Co-editors

www.jjmjs.org

Eschatology and Messianism in the Gabriel Inscription1 Torleif Elgvin NLA University College, Oslo | torleif.elgvin@nla.no JJMJS No. 1 (2014): 5–25

Introduction The Gabriel Inscription (or Vision of Gabriel) is the only known text from the Dead Sea region written on stone. It was written with black ink on a roughly polished limestone that measures 96 by 37 centimeters. The text is written in Hebrew in two columns, and more or less fragmentary remains of 88 lines are preserved. The somewhat crude script can be dated to the second half of the first century B.C.E. Micromorphologic analysis of the stone and its coating suggests that it indeed is an ancient authentic text. The soil attached to the stone indicates it was found east of the Dead Sea, not far from the Lisan peninsula (Goren 2008).

The stone was probably located 15 years ago, and was bought soon after by David Jezelsohn, Zürich, from the Jordanian antiquities dealer Ghassan Rihani, in Irbid, Jordan.

Hazon Gabriel (as the text is called in Hebrew) was published in Hebrew in March 2007 (Yardeni and Elizur 2007). Two months later I headed a symposium on this text in Oslo and made a tentative English translation of it, which subsequently was accessible on the internet for a few years. Ada Yardeni’s initial deciphering and full-size drawing of the text provided the starting point for all subsequent interpreters. Subsequently, Elisha Qimron and Alexei Yuditsky suggested a number of new readings in a Hebrew article (Qimron and Yuditsky 2009). A collection of papers on this enigmatic text were published in a volume edited by Matthias Henze in 2011, which included English versions of Yardeni/ Elizur 2007 and Qimron/Yuditsky 2009 (Henze 2011).

In a number of publications Israel Knohl has argued that the Gabriel Inscription refers to a dying and rising messiah named Ephraim. Already on April 19, 2007, he argued in Haaretz that the text said “In three days, live!” (l. 80).

Even though he later conceded that this phrase should rather be read “On the third day—the sign” (first suggested by Hendel 2009), he still finds a preChristian suffering messiah in this text, perhaps modeled on Simon, one of the

1 This paper combines and reworks three articles of mine: “Notes on the Gabriel Inscription,” Semitica 54 (2012): 221–32; “The Gabriel Inscription, b. Sukkah 52a, and Psalm 2,” Semitica 55 (2013): 137–42; “Gabriel, Vision of ” (Encyclopedia of the Bible and Its Reception, vol. 9: 877–78). I am indebted to Cana Werman and Årstein Justnes for critical reading and valuable suggestions.

6 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

leaders of the uprisings following the death of Herod in 4 B.C.E., who was killed

by Herod’s troops in Transjordan. The blood of this slain messianic leader would, for his followers, pave the way for the final salvation (as is said in later rabbinic texts on the messiah son of Joseph/Ephraim, who will pave the way for the victorious son of David). Knohl argues that such messianic texts were formative for the shaping of the Jesus tradition,2 but remains relatively alone along this line of interpretation. The text is shaped as a long prophetic oracle, formed in dialogue between an anonymous Jewish prophet and the angel Gabriel. The mediating angel adopts the role of a human prophet, frequently repeating the formula “thus says the Lord.” Both in orthography and style the text is somewhat vulgar, conveying the impression of an immediate prophetic experience, not a crafted literary text. The text includes liturgical responses (lines 23–24, 72–74).

This element may reflect the background of the prophet (Levitic?) or demonstrate a secondary use of this text in a communal liturgical setting.3 The text describes a situation of crisis for a Jerusalem surrounded by enemy armies (ll. 13–14, 27, 32–36, 53–57). God promises to come to its aid with angelic armies and chariots, and the archangel Michael is particularly mentioned (ll. 26–28, 32–33, 65–67). A breakthrough is repeatedly promised “on the third day,” as promised in Scripture. Lines 16–22 contain a divine oracle directed to a Davidic messiah, “my servant David . . . my son,” who is promised “a new covenant” (or “a sacred covenant”) and a sign on the third day. Three divine envoys, designated as prophets and shepherds, are sent by God to scrutinize the people of Israel and are subsequently recalled (ll. 69–72, 75–76, 79). The Gabriel Inscription may reflect both prophetic experience and exegetical interaction with a number of biblical traditions, in particular with the prophetic books (Ezek 1; 38–39; Zech 1–8; 14; Dan 8–12; Hag 2:6; Isa 7:10–17; 66:15; Jer 31:31–34).

In the following I will present some textual notes that interact with Yardeni/Elizur and Qimron/Yuditsky, along with a transcription of the legible lines of the text and a structured English translation.4 Thereafter I will discuss 2 “The Christian myth of a Messiah who dies and is resurrected was shaped by a preexisting Jewish myth. From the ‘Gabriel Revelation’ we learn that the motif of the leader’s resurrection on the third day existed in Judaism prior to the birth of Christianity”: Knohl 2011b, 441.

3 According to David Hamidovic, the repetitions in lines 57–59 show that the inscription is no autograph, but copied from a Vorlage. He suggests that the stone could have been used as a liturgical object (2009, 149, 151–2). However, as it now stands, the text does not present itself as a liturgical document. For Yardeni and Elizur the “scroll style” with two columns suggests that the inscription was copied from a scroll (2011, 12). The incised vertical and horizontal guidelines have parallels in many scrolls from the Judean Desert.

4 Transcription, textual notes, and translation are indebted to Yardeni and Elizur 2007, and Qimron and Yuditsky 2011. Where I depart from these scholars and suggest alternative readings I have consulted Yardeni’s 2007 drawing as well as photographs made by Bruce Zuckerman and his team in 2009, available on Inscriptifact (ISF: www.inscriptifact.com).

In the translation italic font indicates tentative/uncertain readings and interpretations.

‫‪Elgvin, Gabriel Inscription 7‬‬

‫‪some main themes in the text, focusing on its prophetic-apocalyptic character,‬‬ ‫‪the nature of the divine envoys, the sign on the third day, and the characteristics‬‬ ‫‪of the messiah. Finally, I will compare the Gabriel text with a dialogue between‬‬ ‫‪God and the Davidic messiah in a talmudic text (b. Sukkah 52a) and with the‬‬ ‫‪medieval apocalypse Sefer Zerubbabel.‬‬ ‫‪Text‬‬ ‫‪Col. I‬‬

‫‪7‬‬ ‫‪9‬‬

‫]ל[בנ̊ י ישראל]‬ ‫̊‬ ‫] [דבר יהו]ה‬

‫‪10‬‬

‫]‬

‫‪11‬‬ ‫‪12‬‬ ‫‪13‬‬ ‫‪14‬‬ ‫‪15‬‬ ‫‪16‬‬ ‫‪17‬‬ ‫‪18‬‬ ‫‪19‬‬ ‫‪20‬‬ ‫‪21‬‬ ‫‪22‬‬ ‫‪23‬‬ ‫‪24‬‬ ‫‪25‬‬ ‫‪26‬‬ ‫‪27‬‬ ‫‪28‬‬ ‫‪29‬‬ ‫‪30‬‬ ‫‪31‬‬ ‫‪32‬‬ ‫‪33‬‬ ‫‪34‬‬ ‫‪35‬‬ ‫‪36‬‬ ‫‪37‬‬

‫י̊ ̊הוה אתה שאלני כו֗ אמר אלהים צבאות‬ ‫]ר[ח ̊מתי ̊על ̊כ ̊ה בית ישראל ואגדה בגדלות ירושלם‬ ‫̊‬ ‫כו אמר יהוה אלהי ישראל הנה כול הגאים‬ ‫ומתוכה ◦◦◦ל◦◦◦‬ ‫̊‬ ‫̊צו̊ ̊ב ̊אי̊ ̊ם ֗על ירושלם ◦][◦‬ ‫]א[חת שתין שלוש ארבע ̊הנביאין והשבין‬ ‫אמרים‬ ‫]ו[החסידים עבדי דוד בקש מן לפני ֗‬ ‫לפנך כן אמר‬ ‫֗‬ ‫]הש[י̊בני האות אני מבקש מן‬ ‫̊‬ ‫רית‬ ‫בידי ֗ב ̊‬ ‫]י[הוה צבאות אלהי ישראל ̊בנ̊ י ̊‬ ‫̊ח ֗דשה לישראל לשלשת ימין תדע כו אמר‬ ‫יהוה אלהים צבאות אלהי ישראל נשבר הרע‬ ‫̊מלפני הצדק שאלני ואגיד לכה מה הצמח‬ ‫֗ה ̊רע הזה לו בי̊ סד אתה אומד המלאך הוא‬ ‫בסמכך אל תירה ברוך כבוד יהוה אלהים מן֗‬ ‫֗‬ ‫֗מקומו עוד מעט קיטוט היא ואני מרעיש את‬ ‫השמים ו̊ את הארץ הנה כבוד יהוה אלהים‬ ‫֗‬ ‫̊ח ̊ל‬ ‫שמע‬ ‫צב ֗או֗ ת אלהי ישראל אלה המרכבות ֗‬ ‫֗‬ ‫ינחם למען‬ ‫֗‬ ‫ואת ערי יהודה‬ ‫̊קו̊ ל ̊שו̊ ֗ד ירושלם ֗‬ ‫]ה[מלאך מיכאל ולכול האהבין ֗בקשו‬ ‫֗‬ ‫̊צ ̊ב]א[ת‬ ‫צב ֗אות אלהי‬ ‫אל ̊הי̊ ם ֗‬ ‫מלפנ̊ י̊ ו̊ כו ֗אמר יהוה ̊‬ ‫]ישר[אל אחד שנין שלושה ארבעה חמשה ששה‬ ‫דרית ̊ה מהו֗ ואמרה עץ‬ ‫֗‬ ‫][ו̊ י̊ שאל מלאכה‬ ‫◦◦◦◦] ותהי ̊‬ ‫וא ֗ראה שני‬ ‫כימו̊ ̊ת עו̊ לם ֗‬ ‫י[רושלים ̊‬ ‫]ו[שמר עליך ירושלם שלו̊ ̊ש ̊ה שלושה בגדלות‬ ‫לוש ̊ה ◦] [◦◦◦◦◦ ◦◦◦◦‬ ‫] [◦◦◦◦◦◦◦ ̊ש ̊‬ ‫להן ו֗ ̊אראה איש ֗א]ח[ד עומד ◦◦◦‬ ‫[א ̊‬ ‫] ̊‬ ‫[שסמן את ירושלם‬ ‫שהוא ◦◦◦◦]‬ ‫]ו[אני על ◦◦◦◦ אמר זאות גלות ֗ר ̊ש]ונה[‬

‫[שאלת ̊ד ̊ב ̊ר‬

‫)‪8 JJMJS No. 1 (2014‬‬

‫‪38‬‬ ‫‪39‬‬ ‫‪40‬‬ ‫‪41‬‬ ‫‪42‬‬ ‫‪43‬‬

‫]וז[או̊ ̊ת גלות ̊שנ̊ י̊ ̊ה] ו[אלה העניאין ואראה‬ ‫[ירושלם ואמר יהוה‬ ‫◦]‬ ‫֗צ ֗ב ֗או֗ ֗ת ◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦‬ ‫נסים‬ ‫אראה ̊‬ ‫֗‬ ‫[הדרו ו֗‬ ‫̊‬ ‫]‬ ‫[◦◦◦◦◦◦◦ בכול‬ ‫]‬ ‫[◦◦◦◦◦ קירו̊ ֗ת ◦◦◦◦‬ ‫]‬

‫‪51‬‬ ‫‪52‬‬ ‫‪53‬‬ ‫‪54‬‬ ‫‪55‬‬ ‫‪56‬‬ ‫‪57‬‬ ‫‪58‬‬ ‫‪59‬‬ ‫‪60‬‬ ‫‪61‬‬ ‫‪65‬‬ ‫‪66‬‬ ‫‪67‬‬ ‫‪68‬‬ ‫‪69‬‬ ‫‪70‬‬ ‫‪71‬‬ ‫‪72‬‬ ‫‪73‬‬ ‫‪74‬‬ ‫‪75‬‬ ‫‪76‬‬ ‫‪77‬‬ ‫‪78‬‬ ‫‪79‬‬ ‫‪80‬‬ ‫‪81‬‬ ‫‪82‬‬ ‫‪83‬‬ ‫‪84‬‬

‫עמך רעוך] עמך‬ ‫[לה‬ ‫̊‬ ‫̊מן ֗המלאכים] ו[מן מעל]‬ ‫̊על עמו ומחר ◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦‬ ‫שאמר] הנביא [הוא‬ ‫̊‬ ‫]ל[שלשת ימין זה‬ ‫אל◦] [של◦◦] [הב]‬ ‫ראו נא] [◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦]‬ ‫סתום דמ טבחי ירושלם כו אמר יהוה צבא]ות[‬ ‫אלהי ישראל כו אמר יהוה צבאות אלהי‬ ‫אלהים] [◦◦◦◦◦◦‬ ‫̊‬ ‫מר‬ ‫ישראל מ◦◦◦ ̊א ֗‬ ‫]ירו[שלם רוח הנראי̊ ̊ם י̊ תן מא◦◦◦◦◦‬ ‫̊‬ ‫אתה ̊ב ̊ל ̊כתי̊ ך ◦◦◦◦‬ ‫̊‬ ‫◦◦] [ל אשרי‬ ‫מק ̊ד]ם‬ ‫שלושה קדושי העולם מן ֗‬ ‫לו̊‬ ‫]יר[ו̊ שלם אמר עליך אנחנו בטוחין ]על[‬ ‫גדלי̊ ]‬ ‫בשר לו על דם זו המרכבה שלהן ̊‬ ‫אוהבין רבים ליהוה צבאת אלי ישראל ◦◦‬ ‫מה◦◦‬ ‫כה אמר יהוה צבאת אלהי ישראל ̊ע ̊‬ ‫נביאים שלחתי אל עמי שלושה ואני אומר‬ ‫דברתי֗ ◦◦ב◦◦‬ ‫̊‬ ‫בד ֗ר ֗כו̊ לו ◦◦ך‬ ‫שראיתי ֗‬ ‫הנ[ה א]תה עש[י̊ ̊ת‬ ‫̊‬ ‫למ ֗ען דוד עבד יהוה]‬ ‫המקום ̊‬ ‫וחך הגדול ובזרועך‬ ‫בכ ̊‬ ‫את השמים ואת הארץ ̊‬ ‫מדו֗ ̊ר ]לדור[‬ ‫הנטוה עושה חסד לאלפים ̊‬ ‫שלושה רועין יצאו לישראל חסידין ]דרשו[‬ ‫אם יש ֗בהן אם יש ֗ב ֗ם קדושים ו̊ ̊טהו̊ ̊רי̊ ]ם[‬ ‫המלאך ◦◦◦] ואתה‬ ‫̊‬ ‫אתה אני גבריאל‬ ‫מי ̊‬ ‫מבק ̊ש‬ ‫̊‬ ‫ותך ]אני[‬ ‫ורועה י֗ צי̊ לו֗ ̊א ֗‬ ‫֗‬ ‫תצילם נביא‬ ‫שלושה ֗רו֗ ֗עים שלושה נביאי֗ ן֗‬ ‫֗‬ ‫מלפניך‬ ‫מל ̊ך מלכי̊ ן‬ ‫גב ֗רי֗ ֗א ֗ל ̊‬ ‫לשלושה ימין האו֗ ֗ת אני ֗‬ ‫שר השרין ̊‬ ‫דמן ̊קרובי̊ ֗חצרים ◦◦◦◦◦◦‬ ‫לך‬ ‫אה ̊בי ̊מ ֗‬ ‫מלפנ̊ י̊ ̊ך הנה ̊‬ ‫̊‬ ‫מ[ב ֗ק ̊שים‬ ‫הנה] ̊‬ ‫לו̊ האות ̊‬ ‫לקחתי֗ אני גברי אל‬ ‫֗‬ ‫לימין שלושה הקטן ֗ש‬ ‫יהוה צבאת אלי ל][ל◦◦◦]‬

‫‪Col. II‬‬

Elgvin, Gabriel Inscription 9

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦[ ]‫את ̊ם ̊כל ◦ל‬ ֗ ‫אז תעמדו‬ ]‫◦◦◦◦◦ ע]ו[לם‬

85 87

Textual Notes L. 12. The beginning of this line is read by Yardeni/Elizur as ‫] [◦◦ני מביתי̊ ישראל‬.

Qimron/Yuditsky observe that there are two words before “house of Israel” and ֗ . According to ISF 11423 the first word ends ‫תו‬- or ‫תי‬-: renders ‫◦◦טו֗ ◦◦◦◦ בית ישראל‬ The left leg and horizontal upper part of the first stroke of the taw is clear. Based on Yardeni’s full-sized drawing of the text (Yardeni/Elizur 2007) one could read this first word as ‫ ][קנתי‬or ‫]ר[ ̊ח ̊מתי‬. On her drawing one sees the right edge and lower corner of a square letter, possibly mem, and before this two or three strokes which may be interpreted as the left leg and top of khet, enabling the reading ‫]ר[ ̊ח ̊מתי‬. The next word perhaps opens with bet, kap, or ‘ayin (cf. ISF 11423). The two opening words of line 12 would contain a verbal clause referring to God’s action for Israel. ‫ ֗ב ̊כם‬or ‫ ֗ב ̊כ ̊ה‬may be the easiest material reading of the word before “house of Israel.” However, above the first two letters of this word a supralinear lamed can be discerned. Thus I tentatively suggest to read ‫ר[ח ̊מתי ̊על ̊כ ̊ה‬ ̊ ‫“—]בית ישראל‬I will have pity on you, house of Israel,” (‫ רחם‬takes direct object or object introduced by ‫)על‬.

L. 12. ‫ גדלות ירושלם‬may be interpreted not as “the greatness of Jerusalem” (as is commonly done), but as “great deeds (to be) done for Jerusalem,” referring to God’s deeds in the past or the close future, cf. 1 Chr 17:19–21. Acts of God are in focus in this text more than the glory of Zion.

Ll. 16–17. ‫ האות אני מבקש מן לפנך‬,‫אמרים ]הש[ ̊י̊בני‬ ֗ ‫עבדי דוד בקש מן לפני‬. The last word of line 16 can materially be read ‫“( אפרים‬Ephraim”) or ‫“( ֲא ָמ ִרים‬words”), as the second letter of this word equally can be read as pe or mem.5 Qimron/ Yuditsky argue for the reading ‫“ ֲא ָמ ִרים ] הש[יבני‬Give me words [in re]sponse,” referring to this expression in Prov 22:21.

Since his first publication in 2007, the reading “Ephraim” has been essential for Knohl’s interpretation. Based on the physical evidence he argues that the first word of line 17 cannot be ‫]הש[יבני‬, but is a word ending with final mem (2011a, 42, note 11). With Yardeni/Elizur he restores ‫ ]וי[שים‬and interprets the crucial words: “My servant David, ask of Ephraim [that he] place the sign; (this) I ask of you.” Such a reading represents a stretched interpretation of these two lines. In this text it would be artificial to bring in a dialogue between two messiahs, one of David’s seed and one of Ephraim’s. All through the text the speakers of the dialogue are the anonymous prophet and Gabriel. And it is God or the angel who brings forward the sign (l. 80), not a human agent (cf. Kim 2011, 167). The close context supports the interpretation of Qimron/Yuditsky: In 5

Thus Yardeni/Elizur 2011, 13. “[O]ne can perhaps restore the name Ephraim[?]” (ibid.: 19). Hendel (2009, 8) and Qimron/Yuditsky read ‫אמרים‬.

10 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

lines 10–11 the prophet asks the angel for a word from the Lord, and lines 17–21 provide the response to this request.6 David’s request is phrased as a synthetic parallellism: “Give me words [in re]sponse, the sign I ask from you.” In ISF 11425 the last letters of the first word of line 17 are clearly ‫ני‬. The third-to-last letter looks more like a pe, but bet is possible, so one should read ‫[י̊בני‬ ̊ or ‫[ל ̊פני‬ ̊ . So far ‫]הש[י̊בני‬ ̊ is the best suggested restoration, which points to ‫ אמרים‬and not ‫ אפרים‬at the end of line 16.

What is the relation between “my servant David” and the author of this revelatory text? Kim (2011, 158) sees this “David” as the recipient of the revelation. He argues that the text was addressed to the leader of a militant group in a time of crisis for Jerusalem, a group who had the warrior-king David as hero.

Kim does not specify if this “David” was the one who received this revelation, or if another prophet was mediating it. Since the text includes different scenes and visions (ll. 25–26, 31–35, 38, 41, 83), and David is referred to in the third person in line 72 (cf. Collins 2011, 111), a more probable scenario would be the prophet listening to a dialogue between God and the Davidic messiah.

Ll. 18–19. ‫רית ̊ח ֗דשה‬ ̊ ‫ ֗ב‬. Qimron/Yuditsky notes that the reading is doubtful, and annotates the first word ‫ ֗ב ֗רי֗ ̊ת‬. However, on ISF 11424 the first three letters are clearly drawn, although the first letter equally can be read as bet or kap.

The final taw is materially more doubtful, but it is difficult to come up with a better reading that fits with the next word, ‫ ̊ח ֗דשה‬. I concur with Qimron/Yuditsky that the digital photo favors the reading ‫ ̊ח ֗דשה‬for ‫( קדשה‬thus Yardeni/Elizur).

In a text from the first century B.C.E., the use of either term (“new covenant” or “holy covenant”) for an eschatological breakthrough would be significant. For “holy covenant,” cf. Dan 11:28, 30; for “new covenant,” cf. Jer 31:31: CD 6:19; 8:21; 19:33; 20:12; Luke 22:20par; Heb 9:15; 12:24.

L. 22. Read ‫“ לו בי̊ סד אתה עומד‬You do not stand on firm ground.” The “evil plant” of lines 20–22 may well be an anti-type to the Davidic messiah—‫ צמח‬is a Davidic/messianic designation from the Bible (Isa 4:2; Jer 23:5; 33:15; Ezek 29:21; Zech 3:8; 6:12; Ps 132:17, cf. Knohl 2011b, 444–45).

Ll. 24–25. In the beginning of line 25 there is space for a short word before ‫השמים‬, and a few traces of ink are preserved. I suggest to read ‫ ̊ח ̊ל השמים‬: “I will shake the powers of heaven and the earth.” Such a quotation or allusion to Hag 2:6 is also found in Heb 12:26.

Ll. 31–32. Based on ISF 11432 read ◦◦◦◦ ‫דרית ̊ה מהו֗ ואמרה עץ‬ ֗ ‫—וישאל מלאכה‬ “The angel asked, ‘The thing you saw, what was it?’ – I answered: ‘A mighty tree.’”

Our author is influenced by Aramaic, and could use both ‫( ש‬ll. 36, 67, 71) and ‫ד‬ as relative pronoun (‫דמן‬ ̊ , l. 81). A scribal error or irregular defective spelling of ‫ ראיתה‬should not be ruled out (cf. the spelling ‫ תירה‬for ‫ תירא‬in line 23), even if

6

The parallels between Ps 2 and the Gabriel Inscription demonstrated below support reading ‫ ֲא ָמרים‬and not ‫אפרים‬: in this psalm God instructs the Davidide to ask him for intervention.

Elgvin, Gabriel Inscription 11 ‫ שראיתה‬occurs in line 71. The first word of line 32 describes the tree seen in this

vision.

Ll. 35–36. With Qimron/Yuditsky read ‫ עומד‬and not ‫עובר‬. Line 36 contains the verb ‫סמן‬. A man communicating a sign may have been envisioned standing on the city wall, cf. Amos 7:7.

Ll. 37–38. Read with Qimron/Yuditsky: ‫ וז[אות גלות‬. . . ‫זאות גלות‬. They interpret it as “the first exile” and “the second exile,” referring to Jer 24:1–10.

Alternately, one could interpret ‫ גלות‬as a qal or pi‘el infinitive with the meaning “revelation.” Based on ISF 11426, one may possibly read ‫ וז[אות‬. . . [‫זאות גלות ֗ר ̊ש]ונה‬ ‫“—גלות ̊שנ̊ י̊ ̊ה‬this is the first revelation . . . and this is the second revelation.”

“Revelation” may fit the prophetic character of the text better than a reference to two periods of exile at this point in the text.

L. 41. With Qimron/Yuditsky the penultimate word should be read ‫אראה‬ ֗ ֗‫ו‬. With ISF 11427 one may read the end of the line ‫נסים‬ ̊ ‫“ הדרו ואראה‬. . . His glory, and I shall see wonders.” The letter here suggested as samek could equally be read bet or kap.

L. 43. The penultimate word seems to be ‫קירו̊ ֗ת‬, cf. ISF 11427. Only a trace is visible of the penultimate letter, but both legs of the taw can be discerned.

Alternatively one could read ‫ [קיר‬or ‫ [קור‬followed by a word space and taw.

L. 54. ‫שאמר‬ ̊ , “it is said,” would refer to a biblical text. The line could be reconstructed such as ‫שאמר] הנביא [הוא‬ ̊ ‫“ ל[שלשת ימין זה‬on] the third day it will be, as [the prophet] said. He . . .”

L. 60. The letters of line 60 are difficult to read. In the beginning of line 60 Qimron/Yuditsky restores ‫ירו[שלם‬, a suggestion confirmed by ISF 01395. The next words are read by Yardeni/Elizur as ‫רוח הנרא◦◦תן‬. I suggest the tentative reading and restoration ‫שלם רוח הנראי̊ ̊ם י̊ תן‬ ̊ [‫[“—]אשפוך על ירו‬I will pour out over Jeru]salem the spirit of the awesome ones. He will give . . .” ‫הנראי̊ ̊ם‬, “the awesome ones,” would refer to the angels.

L. 61. After ‫ אשרי‬one should read ‫אתה‬ ̊ or ‫אתם‬ ̊ . In the context ‫אתה‬ ̊ is preferable. One could perhaps restore a text such as ‫אתה ̊ב ̊ל ̊כתי̊ ך‬ ̊ ‫“ אשרי‬Blessed are you where you walk.”

L. 71. Yardini/Elizur read ◦‫שראיתי ברכ‬. Read ֗‫בד ̊ר ֗כו‬ ֗ ‫שראיתי‬, cf. ISF 11433. ̊‫בד ̊ר ֗כי‬ ֗ : The second letter is materially more easily read as reš, but dalet is possible.

The third letter is unclear, but kap and yod can be discerned.

L. 74. [‫מדו֗ ̊ר ]לדור‬ ̊ ‫לאלפים‬. On ISF 11441 three vertical strokes can be seen after the second mem, compatible with dalet, waw, and reš.

L. 77. The self-presentation “I am Gabriel” (repeated in lines 80 and 83) has its only parallell in Luke 1:19.

L. 81. ‫דמן ̊קרובי̊ ֗חצרים‬ ̊ . The third, fourth and fifth words of this line were read by Yardeni/Elizur ‫צרי̊ ם‬ ̊ ‫“ ד◦◦ן ארו̊ ̊בו̊ ̊ת‬narrow holes(?).” Knohl then connected this line with the slaughter of the zealot leader Simon in rocky crevices in Transjordan in 4 B.C.E. (2011a, 47). Taw may equally be read as khet, as no extending base line of this letter can be discerned. I tentatively suggest as a

12 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

possible reading of this line ‫דמן ̊קרובי̊ ֗חצרים‬ ̊ ‫“ שר השרין‬the prince of princes, of those who are close to the courts”—referring to the angels approaching God in the courts of the heavenly sanctuary. Qop for ’alep is only a tentative option, as no descender is visible. But the letters of the line below are worn, and the same could be the case for the descender of a qop.

Ll. 80–82. Yardeni’s 2007 drawing of the text may suggest reading, at the end of line 80, ‫מל ̊ך מלכי̊ ן‬ ̊ ‫אני גבריאל‬, and at the end of line 82, ‫לך‬ ֗ ‫אה ̊בי ̊מ‬ ̊ ‫( הנה‬for the latter, cf. ISF 1143), leading to the following self-presentation of Gabriel: “I am Gabriel, the king of the angels,7 the prince of princes, of those who are close to the courts.” A similar self-presentation is found in Luke 1:19, “I am Gabriel, who stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to speak to you and proclaim to you these good news.” If my reading of line 80 is correct, the title ‫( שר השרין‬l.

81), used more probably for Michael than for God in Dan 8:25 (cf. 8:11), is here applied to Gabriel. Elizur lists later Jewish usage of the term “prince of princes” (Yardeni/Elizur 2011, 20–21): In hekhalot literature it designates Metatron or the angelic Youth alongside the Lord, and Gabriel is positioned as the head of the princes (‫)בראש השרים‬. The hekhalot usage would support my reading of lines 80– 81. In later piyyutim “prince of princes” is a designation for Michael. A Babylonian incantation text names the two angels who destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah as Gabriel and Michael (Hamidovic 2009, 157). The role of two chief angels, Michael as leader of the heavenly host (l. 28) and Gabriel as angelus interpres, is probably inspired by Daniel 8–11.

Translation 7 [to ]the sons of Israel[ 9 ]word from the Lor[d 10 ]you asked for a word from11 the Lord, you asked me. – Thus says the Lord of Hosts: 12 I will have pity on you, house of Israel, I will shout about great deeds to be done for Jerusalem. 13 Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel: See, all peoples 14 will make war against Jerusalem, and deport from it 15 [o]ne, two, three, four of the prophets and the elders 16 [and] the pious men.

My servant David, ask me: 17 “Give me words [in re]sponse, the sign I ask from you!” Thus says 18 the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel: My son, in my hands I have 19 a new covenant for Israel, on the third day you will know it. Thus says 20 the Lord God of Hosts, the God of Israel: Evil will be broken before 21 righteousness. Ask me, and I will tell you what this 22 evil plant is. You do not stand on firm ground, but the angel 23 is your support, do not fear!

– Blessed be the glory of the Lord from 24 his dwelling! – In a little

7 Although ‫ מלאך‬elsewhere in the text is spelled with ’alep, the phrase ‫ מלך מלכין‬should be interpreted as “king of the angels,” rather than “king of kings”—a phrase appearing in Ezek 26:7; Ezr 7:12; Dan 2:37 (on human kings); 1 Tim 6:15; Rev 17:14; 19:16 (on Christ).

If my tentative reading ‫ מלך‬at the end of line 82 is correct (“those who love the king”), ‫מלך‬ could here refer to Gabriel or more likely to God.

Elgvin, Gabriel Inscription 13

while I will shake 25 the powers of heaven and the earth.

– See the glory of the Lord God 26 of Hosts, the God of Israel! The God of the chariots will listen to 27 the cry of Jerusalem and the cities of Judah and bring consolation for the sake of 28 the hos[t]s of [the] angel Michael, and for the sake of those who have loved 29 and asked him.

Thus says the Lord God of Hosts, the God of 30 [Isr]ael: One, two, three, four, five, six. 31 And the angel asked: “The thing you saw, what was it?” – I answered: “A mighty tree.” 32 – “Yes, [J]erusalem[ shall be ]as in former days.” – And I saw a second one 33 [who was] guarding you, Jerusalem, and three, yes, three who perform mighty deeds. 34 . . . three . . . 35 [ ]to them. See: a man standing and . . . [on the wall] 36 and he . . . who will give a sign for Jerusalem. 37 [And] I stand over . . . and he said: This is the fi[rst] revelation, 38 [and t]his is the second revelation, [and] these are the poor ones. And I saw 39 [. . .

I will take pity on] Jerusalem, says the Lord of 40 Hosts . . . 41 . . . his glory, and I shall see wonders 43 . . . walls . . . 50 [The Lord your God] 51 is with you, your Shepherd[ is with you . . . providing help] 52 from the angels and from on high.

[The enemy shall make war] 53 against his people, and the next day . . . [a sign will be given to them, 54 on] the third day it will be, as [the prophet] said.

He 55 . . . 56 Yea, see . . . [it shall be] 57 an end to the blood of the slaughtering in Jerusalem.

Thus says the Lord of Hos[ts,] 58 the God of Israel. Yes, thus says the Lord of Hosts, the God of 59 Israel, from . . . says the Lord: [I will pour out 60 over Jeru]salem the spirit of the awesome ones. He will give . . . 61 . . . Blessed are you where you walk . . .

[These are the] 65 three holy ones from days of old, from the begin[ning . .

66 . ] [Jer]usalem, say: “We trust in you, not [in] 67 flesh and blood.” This is their chariot, that of the great ones[ ֹof heaven.] 68 There are many who love the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel . . . 69 Thus says the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel . . . 70 Prophets I did send to my people, three of them. But I said 71 when I looked on its ways that were not . . . , I talked to them calling them back to 72 the place for the sake of David, the servant of the Lord.

– [Se]e, y[ou created] 73 the heavens and the earth by your great power and by your outstretched 74 arm. You show mercy toward thousands from generation [to generation.]

75 Three shepherds came to Israel [to search for] pious ones, {to see} 76 if there were among them, if there were among them holy ones and pure on[es.]

77 “Who are you?” – “I am Gabriel, the angel sent [by the Lord . . . and] 78 you shall rescue them. A prophet and a shepherd shall rescue you.” – [“Then I] ask 79 you for three shepherds, for three prophets.”

80 On the third day: the sign! I am Gabriel, king of the angels, 81 the prince of princes, of those who are close to the courts . . . 82 The sign is for him.

See, they[ a]sk you. See those who love the king! 83 On the third day, the small one that I took, I Gabriel. 84 The Lord of Hosts, the God of . . . 85 Then you will stand

14 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

firm for all[

87

. . . for e[v]er

Angelic Prophecy and Divine Envoys In the late Second Temple period we find prophets who foretell the future or actualize God’s will for their audience. Some of them share an apocalyptic worldview and produce apocalypses or apocalyptically inspired texts. While modern interpreters might discern between the phenomenon of prophecy and apocalyptic seers, such a distinction was hardly made in “prophetic-charismatic” or apocalyptic milieus in the centuries around the turn of the era.8 The Gabriel Inscription opens a window into the actual sayings of a prophet and/or apocalyptic seer more than a century after the shaping of the books of 1 Enoch and a century before this phenomenon would unfold also in the Jesus movement, as evidenced in the New Testament texts, Didache, and the Ascension of Isaiah. The relation between the heavenly realms and angels on one side and the fate of earthly Jerusalem on the other seems to locate this text with apocalyptic “relatives” such as the Revelation of John and the War Scroll.

In Hazon Gabriel the mediating angel adopts the role and terminology of a human prophet, frequently repeating the formula “thus says the Lord.” This is different from the interpreting angels we encounter in Dan 10–12, Jubilees or 1 Enoch, but similar to Zech 1–3. This feature may reflect the theology and angelology of our author, who perhaps needed a mediator less awesome than God himself.

In lines 70–72, 75–76, and 79 we encounter three divine envoys, designated as prophets and shepherds, sent by God and then recalled to heaven.

In Zech 11 the image of three shepherds designates human rulers with poor conduct. Elizur lists a number of rabbinic references to “three prophets,” identified as biblical prophets such as Isaiah, Ezekiel, Daniel, Amos, Qohelet, Elijah, Micah, Moses, Zephaniah, and Hulda (Yardeni/Elizur 2011, 18–19).

According to lines 75–76, the shepherds are sent to scrutinize the people of Israel to see if there are faithful ones among them. Rather than pointing to human rulers or prophets, such an assignment brings to mind angelic envoys with similar tasks, cf. Gen 18–19; Ezek 9; Zech 1:10–11; Rev 7:1–4.9 The three shepherds should be interpreted as angelic shepherds commissioned by

8

The apocalyptic Book of Revelation presents itself as a “prophetic book,” Rev 22:18, and the Yahad text 4QFlorilegium refers to biblical Daniel as “Daniel the prophet.” On Josephus’ understanding of prophecy (primarily foretelling the future), see Gray 1993, in particular pp. 6–34, 164–67. For Paul, prophecy is empowered speaking “in the spirit,” conveying “upbuilding, encouragement and consolation,” i.e. actualizing scriptures or the will of God for the community (1 Cor 14:3).

9 Cf. the “shepherds” of the Animal Apocalypse (1 En 89–90). These shepherds should be understood as angels of wrath interfering in the history of Israel, cf. the role of the “angels of Mastema” in 4QapocrJer C and Jubilees (4Q387 2 iii 4; 4Q390 1 11; 2 i 7; Jub. 48:2.12; 49:2).

Elgvin, Gabriel Inscription 15

God to test the ways of men, and may be identical with the three holy ones of line 65.10 A reference to three biblical prophets would not easily fit the setting of the Gabriel text, which points either to a historic situation of crisis in the first century B.C.E. or to an eschatological war.

These divine envoys may be compared with the two witnesses of Rev 11, who testify to the truth before they are killed by the beast, and after three and a half days resurrected and taken to heaven. David Flusser and Cana Werman have argued persuasively that Rev 11–13 reinterprets the Oracle of Hystaspes, an antiRoman Jewish apocalyptic text from the first century.11 In the Oracle (known through Lactantius, a third-century Christian writer), there is one prophet who is sent by God to preach and bring the people to repentance. He is subsequently killed by the antichrist, and then called back to heaven on the third day. The Gabriel text may reflect an earlier version of traditions later incorporated into the Oracle and Rev 11–13. Apoc. Elijah 4 reflects the same tradition, with three witnesses who preach against the antichrist. All three, the virgin Tabitha, Elijah, and Enoch, are killed and resurrected. The Apocalypse of Elijah contains both Jewish and Christian layers. The evidence of the Gabriel Inscription suggests that the core of Apoc. Elijah 4 is Jewish in origin (pace Wintermute 1983, 724–25, 746–49).

A Crisis Oracle?

The Gabriel text repeatedly promises a sign of redemption on the third day (lines 17–19, 54, 80). “The third day” could mean the third day after the actual time of revelation to this prophet (in the case of a real military threat to Zion), or refer to the third day after the beginning of the future siege of Jerusalem. If the first option was originally intended, these “three days” would be reinterpreted by later transmitters or interpreters who would have to interact with the delay of the eschatological breakthrough (some kind of Parusieverzögerung).

In either case the Gabriel Inscription shows that an eschatological hope

10

In the Bible “holy ones” refers to angels (Collins 1993, 313–17; Collins 2011, 105). In literature from Qumran and later periods this designation may be extended to human servants of God, as in line 76.

11 Flusser’s (1988) hypothesis was accepted by Aune in his commentary on Revelation (1998, 588–93, 726–8, 771). According to Werman (2009), the motif of the woman giving birth to the messiah (Rev 11) was also present in the Oracle; in a Christian text like Revelation it is strange that the messianic baby is taken to heaven after his birth, if this was not already an element in John’s source. Schäfer has recently discussed the Jewish traditions about a mother giving birth to the messiah, who is taken to heaven as a baby (y.

Berakhot 2,4/12–14; Lam. Rabba 1,16 $ 51; cf. also Sefer Zerubbabel), and concluded that they represent anti-Christian polemic: Schäfer 2010, 1–31; Schäfer 2012, 264–71. Schäfer does not mention Werman’s article. If Werman indeed is right (and I tend to agree with her), the later texts may represent anti-Christian polemic added to a tradition originating in the Second Temple period.

16 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

could be connected with a breakthrough on “the third day” already before Jesus.

Our text thus parallels the foresayings referring to the third day in the gospels (Matt 12:40; Luke 24:46; John 2:19; cf. 1 Cor 15:4). The hope for redemption with dawn or on the third day would find support in scriptures such as Hos 6:3; Ps 46:5; Exod 8:19; 19:11, 15; and Gen 22:4 (on the third day Abraham sees the place of offering and symbolically receives “his son back from the dead,” cf. Heb 11:17–19). As in Luke 24:46 and 1 Cor 15:4, the breakthrough on the third day is promised in the scriptures: “on] the third day it will be, as [the prophet] said” (l.

54), which could refer to Hos 6:3 as proof text.

Is there a specific historic situation of crisis behind this revelatory text, as argued by Israel Knohl and Daewoong Kim (Kim 2011)? Knohl has suggested the upheavals after the death of Herod. Other options would be Pompey’s invasion of Jerusalem in 63 B.C.E., the Parthian incursions into Judea in 40–39 B.C.E., or the civil war between Herod and the Hasmoneans in 39–37 B.C.E. that culminated in the siege and conquest of Jerusalem.12 But the author of the Gabriel text could engage in prophetic dialogue with biblical texts on wars about Jerusalem and the end-time fate of Zion (such as 2 Kg 19; Ezek 38–39; Zech 14; Ps 46; cf. Rev 20:9) without an acute situation of military crisis, similar to the setting of the Revelation of John. Our author is simultanously prophet and exegete, as Christopher Fletcher-Louis has argued about John of Patmos.13 Similar to the men of the Yahad and John of Patmos, our prophet sees himself as part of revelation history, he is given “new information” on the end-time war soon to come.

The eschatological scenario presented in this text—with angels, chariots, a Davidic messiah, and his anti-type “the evil branch”—would make sense as revelation about the end-time battle given to a group characterized by eschatological fervor. A “crisis oracle” given to the leaders of a Jerusalem under siege seems less probable. As a third alternative, this detailed revelation on the end-time could have been prompted by the author’s experience of a military crisis in Judea. Such a recipient group as suggested here is easily perceived in the upheavals of Judea in the first century B.C.E. With the setting I suggest it is easy to understand why the text was “recycled,” received liturgical responsae, and was inscribed in stone, a stone

12

David Hamidovic (2012) departs from mainstream interpretation. He dates the script after 50 C.E., suggests Titus’ siege of Jerusalem as its historic setting, and Vespasian as an anti-type for the Davidic messiah—for which cf. the evil branch of lines 20–22.

13 “What John encounters in his visionary experience is made sense of through the framework of understanding already present in his cognition. The interpretation of Ezek 1 . . . involved seeing again what Ezekiel had seen. It may well have involved the resort to cross-referencing, but this contributed to a dynamic imaginative activity in which the details of Ezekiel’s vision were understood by a complex interweaving of vision and textual networking”: Fletcher-Louis 2006, 45, 48; cf. Fletcher-Louis 2008.

Elgvin, Gabriel Inscription 17

perhaps intended to be raised as a memorial stelae.14 The well preserved state of the inscription could suggest that the stelae was found still standing upright in a cave east of the Dead Sea, a region under Jewish rule in the first century B.C.E. Following biblical tradition, the desert could be conceived as a place of divine revelation and eschatological preparation.

The Davidic Messiah What does the Vision of Gabriel teach us about the Davidic messiah? He is connected with a war scenario with enemies surrounding Jerusalem (cf. Pss 2; 110), has angelic hosts coming to his help, is addressed by God in the context of a dialogue, and is promised a sign—a breakthrough on the third day that is connected to “a new covenant” (or “holy covenant”). He is called by the biblical term ‫“—עבדי דוד‬my servant David” (2 Sam 3:18; 7:5, 8; 1 Kgs 11:13, 32, 34, 36, 38; 14:8; 19:34; 20:6; Isa 37:35; Jer 33:21, 26; 1 Chr 17:4, 7; Ps 89:3, 20; Ezek 34:23–24; 37:24).

The angelic envoys are recalled to heaven “for the sake of David, the servant of the Lord” (ll. 71–72). This could be a reference to the historic king of Israel. But the parallel with “my servant David” (l.16) rather suggests that the text also here refers to the eschatological Son of David, who has an important role in eschatological history.

If I am right in two assumptions—1) the text refers to a futuric end-time battle, not a present situation of war; and 2) the prophet listens to a dialogue between God and the Davidic messiah (the easiest reading of ll. 16–22)—I see two possible settings for such a dialogue: a) the prophet listens to what God will say to the Davidide in this future war situation; b) a heavenly dialogue between God and the messiah could suggest that the messiah is situated in heaven until he is sent to fulfill his task on earth. Such a scenario could explain why the three heavenly envoys are recalled for his sake.

The idea of a messiah in heaven recurs in later talmudic texts such as b.

Sanh. 98a (where he sits waiting at the gates of Rome until he is called for).15 But already some Second Temple texts may testify to this idea. The Son of Man in Dan 7:13–14 may be understood as a heavenly figure with functions similar to a Davidic messiah, perhaps in conjunction with a Davidide on earth (see Elgvin 2015). In the first century B.C.E., the Enochic Similitudes see the Son of Man as a messiah in heaven, and the latest addition to the Similitudes in chapter 71 reveals that Enoch himself is this enthroned Son of Man (i.e. an earthly sage

14

Knohl suggests that the lower part of the stone was left empty because it was intended to be set down in solid earth, and this part is indeed darker brown than the rest (2011b, 443).

15 Moshe Idel notes that in some rabbinic texts the messiah transcends earthly dimensions.

He can be preexistent and belong to the heavenly realms where we find the merkavah, the heavenly temple, and the souls of the righteous (1998, 42–47).

18 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

transformed to heavenly messiah, not a messiah residing in heaven before being sent to earth). Further, 4Q521 (4QMessianic Apocalypse) 1 i 1–2 (“Heaven and earth will obey his messiah”) may reflect an early interpretation of the Son of Man as a cosmic messiah residing in heaven (Elgvin 2015). Cf. further Werman’s suggestion that in the first century C.E. the Oracle of Hystaspes described a messianic child taken to heaven after his birth to be sent to earth in the end-time (see note 11).

Towards the end of the text we find the following dialogue between Gabriel and the prophet: 77

“Who are you?” – “I am Gabriel, the angel sent [by the Lord . . . and] 78 you shall rescue them. A prophet and a shepherd shall rescue you.” – [“Then I] ask 79 you for three shepherds, for three prophets.” 80 On the third day: the sign! I am Gabriel, king of the angels, 81 the prince of princes, of those who are close to the courts . . . 82 The sign is for him. See, they[ a]sk you.

The “you” addressed in line 78 and given the task of rescuing the people is either the prophet himself or the Davidic messiah, who could have been introduced in the end of line 77. The promise that “the sign is for him” (l. 82) probably refers to the messiah, so that lines 16–23 and 80–83 refer to the same sign promised on the third day.

The promise that “Jerusalem shall be as in former days” (l. 32), and the expectation of a Davidic messiah whose only hope to save Jerusalem is angelic intervention, show that the author was no supporter of the military might of Herod or the Roman/Hasmonean alliance that preceded him, and hint that the present leadership is illegitimate.

God’s Dialogue with the Son of David in b. Sukkah 52a A text in b. Sukkah 52a contains close parallels to some crucial lines in the Gabriel Inscription. Both texts represent a rereading of the dialogue between the Lord and the Davidic king in Ps 2:7–8. The conflict between enemy peoples and the elect Davidide in Zion, God’s dialogue with the son of David and intervention for his anointed—these elements in Ps 2 were read both by this talmudic text and Hazon Gabriel as prophetic information about the end-time battle.

Lines 16–19 in the Gabriel Inscription should probably be read as follows (cf.

Qimron and Yuditsky 2011, 31–34). .‫ האות אני מבקשׁ מן לפנך‬,‫ ֲא ָמרים ]השׁ[יבני‬,‫עבדי דוד ַב ֵקשׁ מן לפני‬ ,‫ בני ב]י[די ברית חדשׁה לישׂראל‬,‫כה אמר ]י[הוה צבאות אלהי ישׂראל‬ ‫ נשׁבר‬,‫ כו אמר יהוה אלהים צבאות אלהי ישׂראל‬.‫לשׁלשׁת ימין תדע‬ ‫ לו ביסד‬.‫ שׁאלני ואגיד לכה מה הצמח הרע הזה‬.‫הרע מלפני הצדק‬ .‫ אל תירא‬,‫ המלאך הוא בסמכך‬,‫אתה עומד‬

Elgvin, Gabriel Inscription 19

My servant David, ask me: 17 “Give me words [in re]sponse, the sign I ask from you!” Thus says 18 the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel: “My son, in my hands I have 19 a new covenant for Israel, on the third day you will know it. Thus says 20 the Lord God of Hosts, the God of Israel: Evil will be broken before 21 righteousness. Ask me, and I will tell you what this 22 evil plant is. You do not stand on firm ground, but the angel 23 is your support, do not fear!”

Both Israel Knohl and John Collins have in their discussion on Hazon Gabriel referred to a text in b. Sukkah 52a that deals with messiah son of David and messiah son of Joseph/Ephraim, without noting the close terminological parallels between this text and the Gabriel inscription (Knohl 2011a, 49; Collins 2011, 109).16 A closer study of text from the Bavli will sharpen our understanding of the Gabriel Inscription. The talmudic text runs as follows: ‫ אומר לו‬,(‫ משׁיח בן דוד )שׁעתיד להגלות במהרה בימינו‬,‫תנו רבנן‬ ‫ אמר‬,‫“ שׁנאמר ’אספרה אל חק יהוה‬,‫הקב’’ה ’’שׁאל ממני דבר ואתן לך‬ ‫‘ וכיון‬.‫ שׁאל ממני ואתנה גוים נחלתך‬.‫ בני אתה אני היום ילדתיך‬,‫אלי‬ ‫ ’’רבשׁ’’ע איני מבקשׁ ממך‬,‫ אומר לפניו‬,‫שׁראה משׁיח בן יוסף נהרג‬ ‫ ’’חיים עד שׁלא אמרת כבר התנבא עליך דוד‬,‫“ אומר לו‬.‫אלא חיים‬ ‘.‫ נתתה לו ארך ימים עולם ועד‬,‫“ שׁנאמר ’חיים שאל ממך‬,‫אביך‬ Our Rabbis taught, The Holy One, blessed be He, will say to the messiah son of David (May he reveal himself speedily in our days), “Ask of me anything, and I will give it to you,” as it is said, I will tell of the decree of the Lord. The Lord said to me, you are my son, today have I begotten you. Ask of me and I will give the nations for your inheritance (Ps 2:7–8). But when he will see that the messiah son of Joseph is slain, he will say to Him, “Lord of the Universe, I ask You for nothing but life’.’ “As to life,” He would answer him, “Your father David has already prophesied this concerning you,” as it is said, He asked life of You, You gave it to him, even length of days for ever and ever (Ps 21:5).

16

This talmudic text is discussed in Himmelfarb 2011. Knohl discusses the parallel between the Gabriel Inscription and Sefer Zerubbabel (see my discussion below), but does not note the same terminology in b. Sukkah 52a, which he also refers to: “To the best of my knowledge the only (other) place in ancient Jewish literature where terms of this sort (‘ask me, and I will tell you’) appears is in the Apocalypse of Zerubabel” (Knohl 2011b, 440–41).

20 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

This talmudic discussion opens with a reference to Zech 12:12, And the land shall mourn, every family apart; the family of the house of David apart, and their wives apart. Rav (= R. Abba, Babylon, d. 247 C.E.) asks for the cause of this mourning, and explains that Rabbi Dosa (Galilee, late second century) and the Rabbis differ on the issue. For Rabbi Dosa, Zechariah prophesied on the slaying of the messiah son of Joseph in the end-time battle.

Joseph Heinemann attributes the development of the idea of a fighting messiah from Joseph/Ephraim who is killed by Israel’s enemies, to rabbinic reflection after Bar Kokhba’s catastrophic defeat (Heinemann 1975). And Rabbi Dosa is indeed dated to two generations after this revolt. Three targumic texts contain contrasting traditions on this messianic figure (Fishbane 1998; Reeves 2005: 49–50; Schäfer 2010: 133–5). The “full story” of this messiah as a precursor to the Davidic messiah is preserved in the seventh-century Sefer Zerubbabel and the seventh- or eighth-century Secrets of R. Shimon bar Yohai (Reeves 2005: 40– 66, 76–89), but seems to be presupposed in Bereshit Rabbah (fifth century, Ber. R. 73.7, 75.5, 99.2), b. Sukkah 52a (sixth century), and in some later texts—a targumic tosefet to Zech 12:10, Midrash Tanhuma, and Midrash Tehillim.

Israel Yuval (2006, 35–38) suggests that the messiah son of Joseph is a Jewish internalization of the figure of Jesus as messiah (also he a son of Joseph, a northerner, and destined to die). Peter Schäfer finds such an internalization in the seventh century Pesikta Rabbati, the only Jewish text with a preexistent and suffering messiah who atones for mankind (2010, 135–178; idem 2012, 264–71).

In a recent article Martha Himmelfarb (2013) surveys the various theories about the messiah of Ephraim, and concludes that there is no clear evidence for a messiah descended from Joseph in literature from the Second Temple period.

And there are good reasons to see elements of this tradition, which has roots in the tannaitic period, as echoes and responses to Christian tradition.17 In the talmudic text Rav concludes that the Rabbis voted down Rabbi Dosa and decided that the mourning of Zech 12:12 is related to the end-time annihilation of the evil inclination. But Rav admits that Rabbi Dosa had a good cause since his interpretation would accord well with the preceding verse, “They shall look unto me whom they have pierced; and they shall mourn for him, as one mourns for his only son” (Zech 12:10).

The rabbis of the Bavli (third to seventh centuries) knew that Zech 12:10–12 could be read on the piercing of the messiah son of Joseph and the subsequent mourning for him. Not surprisingly they read Ps 2 as a dialogue between God and the messiah son of David. Somewhat more surprising to a modern reader, they found the cause of the dialogue in the slaying of the messiah 17

Cana Werman suggests (in personal communication) that the features of the messiah of Ephraim represent a recast of Second Temple traditions of Elijah: According to Rev 11 and Hystaspes, Elijah is sent from heaven to earth to preach, be killed, resurrected, and return to heaven. Both this Elijah and messiah of Ephraim are northerners sent on an unsuccessful mission on earth, killed, and taken up to heaven.

Elgvin, Gabriel Inscription 21

son of Joseph in the battle against the enemies of Israel.

– What did the Davidide ask his God for, . . . ‫( שׁאל ממני ואתנה‬Ps 2:7)?

– They answer by referring to another royal psalm (Ps 21), easily connected with a Davidic messiah, where they find the same words on David asking and God giving in response (‫שׁאל‬, ‫)נתן‬: ‫ נתתה לו‬,‫חיים שׁאל ממך‬. According to the Bavli, the Davidide asks God with the words ‫“ איני מבקשׁ ממך אלא חיים‬I ask You for nothing but life” (i.e. to not die as did the messiah son of Joseph). In response God grants him life everlasting, i.e. victory over the enemies and a portion in the world to come.

The words the Bavli attributes to the Davidic messiah are surprisingly close to God’s instructions to “David” in Hazon Gabriel: ,‫עבדי דוד ַב ֵקשׁ מן לפני‬ ‫ האות אני מבקשׁ מן‬,‫”א ָמרים ]השׁ[יבני‬ ֲ ‫ שׁאלני ואגיד לכה‬. . . “‫לפנך‬. Both the talmudic text and Hazon Gabriel read Ps 2 as a dialogue betweeen God and the Davidic messiah within the context of the end-time battle with Israel’s enemies, and present a new “recension” for their own times. In both texts the Davidide asks God for divine grace or intervention, and God responds to the benefit of his anointed and his people.18 Bavli uses the term ‫ בקשׁ‬where Ps 2 has ‫שאל‬, while Hazon Gabriel uses both ‫ בקשׁ‬and ‫שאל‬. The text of the Bavli is formed as a midrash of Ps 2 that interacts with Ps 21, while Hazon Gabriel integrates a dialogue inspired by Ps 2 into a larger oracle.

It seems difficult to postulate a literary or traditio-historical line between these two texts from respectively the first century B.C.E. and the sixth century C.E. More probably Hazon Gabriel and b. Sukkah 52a represent similar interpretations of royal biblical psalms that are reread on the role of the messiah in the end-times.

The seventh century apocalypse Sefer Zerubbabel presents a comparable dialogue between the Davidide Zerubbabel and the archangel Michael/Metatron, where Michael addresses Zerubbabel four times with the words ‫שאל )לי( ואגיד לך‬ “Ask (me), and I will tell you.” This terminology in Sefer Zerubbabel is likely indebted to b. Sukkah 52a, since both texts relate to the end-time war and the two messiahs, and Zerubbabel is a Davidide himself.19 Ps 2 deals with enemy peoples conspiring against the Davidide—the same setting that is presupposed in Hazon Gabriel. The promise ‫נשׁבר הרע מלפני‬ ‫“ הצדק‬evil will be broken before righteousness” (Hazon Gabriel lines 20–21),

18

Werman suggests (in personal communication) that b. Sukkah is more pacifistic in style: the Davidide only asks God to stay alive. In contrast, Hazon Gabriel looks forward to a full-fledged battle, although conducted by heavenly powers. The Yahad combined a pacifistic ethos with a violent hope for the end-time—with heavenly figures interacting to support the earthly forces in the Milhamah texts: Justnes 2013.

19 The dialogue between Zerubbabel and Michael in Sefer Zerubbabel can be compared with that between the anonymous prophet and Gabriel in Hazon Gabriel. Both “prophets” have a heavenly encounter with the messiah son of David.

22 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

terminologically close to 1Q27 (1QMysteries) 1 i 5–7,20 may be an actualization of Davidic texts such as Ps 2:8–9; 110:5–6; and Isa 11:4–5.

Thus, not only biblical prophets, but also royal psalms in the Psalter (and in particular Ps 2) were formative for the prophetic rereading of biblical texts in the Gabriel Inscription.

Other texts from roughly the same period, such as 1 Macc 3:3–9; 14:4– 15 and Ps. Sol. 17, represent messianic readings of royal psalms including Ps 2.

Texts of the Yahad present the same picture: The term used in the Rule of the Congregation for God’s sending the Davidic messiah, ‍[×?]ת [המ׊יח ×?ת×?‏ ĚŠ ‍×?×? יולי֗ ד ]×?×œâ€Ź “when [God ]begets the Messiah among themâ€? (1QSa II 11–12),21 refers to Ps 2:7.

And Ps 2 belongs to the reference texts of 4QFlorilegium in its reading of the end-time assault against God’s people and his messiah (4Q174 I 11, 18–19). The Isaiah pesher contains similar tradition on the Davidic messiah (“the prince of the congregation,� “the Shoot of David�) in the end-time wars (4Q161 frgs. 5–6 and 8–10).22 So Hazon Gabriel is concurrent with contemporary exegetical tradition when it conflates an actualizing reading of Ps 2 into a larger apocalyptic or eschatological text. A century later John of Patmos would do the same (cf. Rev 19:11–21).

Messianic texts from the last two centuries B.C.E. can have a quite dierent flavor. 1 Maccabees (cf. e.g. 3:3–9 and 14:4–15) represents a restorative messianism within the context of Hasmonean state ideology: The priestly rulers Judah and Simon have brought messianic and eschatological promises to a

20

The text runs ,‍ בהץגר מולדי ×˘×•×œ×” וגלה הר׊ע ×ž×¤× ×™ ה׌דק ×›×’×œ×•×Ş ]×—[ו׊ך ×ž×¤× ×™ ×?ור‏,‍וזה לכ×? ×”×?ות ×›×™ יהיה‏ ‍ וה׌דק‏,‍ ×›×&#x; ית×? הר׊ע ×œ×˘×“â€Ź,â€Ťâ€œâ€”×™×’×œ×” כ׊מ׊ תכו×&#x; ×Ş×‘×œ וכתו×? ע׊×&#x; ו×?×™× × ×• עוד‏This shall be to you the sign

that it shall come to pass: When the begotten of unrighteousness are delivered up, and wickedness is removed from before righteousness, as darkness is removed from before light and as smoke wholly ceases and is no more, so shall wickedness cease forever, and righteousness shall be revealed as the sun (throughout) the full measure of the world.â€? Cf. 4QTime of Righteousness (4Q215a) 1 ii 3–4 ‍ת]עבו[ר‏ Ö— â€Ťâ€œ ×›×™×? ׊ל×? ק׌ הר׊ע וכול ×˘×•×œ×”â€Źfor the period of wickedness has been completed and all injustice will ha[ve and en]dâ€? (translations mine). On the text from 1QMysteries and a parallel in the Amidah, see Flusser 1994.

21 Qimron’s reading ̊‍ יו֗ ̊ע ֗דו‏must be discarded (Qimron 2010, 237). Josef Milik has no doubt about â€Ť×™×•×œ×™Ö— ד‏, but suggests the scribe misread a ‍ ×™×•×œ×™×šâ€Źin his Vorlage (DJD 1, 117). IAA’s recent infrared photo B–284824 confirms Milik’s reading ‍( יולי֗ ד‏http://www.deadseascrolls.org.il/ explore-the-archive/manuscript/1Q-28-1 [accessed January 23, 2014]). Yod is awkwardly drawn, but there is no other material option. Stephen Pfann reads the perhaps parallel text preserved in 4Qpap cryptA Sai? [‍×?[×? ̊ת]ועד העדה והמ׊יח ×?ת×?‏ ĚŠ (DJD 36: 572–3). Texts such as Isa 7:14 (đ?”? and đ?”Š); 9:6–7; and Mic 5:2 may have also influenced the tradition of the begetting and presentation of the messiah.

22 On Ps. Sol. 17 and these sectarian texts, see Collins 2010, 52–78. 1 Maccabees was written around 100 B.C.E., Ps. Sol. 17 around 50 B.C.E. 1QSa is probably a text from the second century (but copied c.75–50 B.C.E., according to a recent dating by Michael Langlois [personal communication]), while 4QFlorilegium and 4QpIsa belong to the first half of the first century B.C.E.

Elgvin, Gabriel Inscription 23

preliminary fulfillment (Elgvin 2013, 55–56). Other texts expect a Davidide in the end-times, but with different connotations. Ps. Sol. 17 expects a Davidic ruler who does not excel in military power as did the Hasmoneans and Romans, but has his strength in God. In 4QpIsa the Shoot of David appears as a military leader in the war against the nations, angelic intervention is not mentioned. The more utopian War Scroll expects decisive angelic action that helps the warriors on earth—priests and pious ones, not trained men of war.

The preserved parts of Hazon Gabriel do not describe precisely how the enemy will be defeated, but angelic powers clearly play a major role (ll. 22–23, 25–28, 52, 65–68, 80–85), even more so than in the War Scroll. The importance of the heavenly hosts in Hazon Gabriel may be reflected in the repeated use of the appellation “YHWH of Hosts,” recurring ten times. Angelic chariots are mentioned twice (ll. 26, 67). The hope of Jerusalem is in God alone, not in human strength: “We trust in you, [not in] flesh and blood!” (ll. 66–67).

Again, does the Gabriel Inscription presuppose a specific historical situation of crisis, as Heinemann (1975) suggested for the idea of a slain messiah of Ephraim? Sefer Zerubbabel reflects the experience of wars between Persia, Byzantium, and the new Muslim empire in 614-638 C.E. (Reeves 2005, 47; Schäfer 2010, 134–5, 174–7). In contrast, the text from the Bavli hardly presupposes such a crisis. Thus, the Bavli adds weight to the possibility that Hazon Gabriel represents prophetic-eschatological exegesis of biblical texts disentangled from any acute situation of military crisis.

If the Vision of Gabriel is an apocalyptic vision of the end-time, what can we know about the intended audience and function of this text? Similar to the setting of the Revelation of John and Yahad texts on the end-time, the aim of such a text would be to strengthen and edify the community of the author, perhaps in a time of trials. The circle(s) of the author would have a strong sense of communion with the heavenly realms, similar to the Yahad and John of Patmos. We are probably dealing with a sectarian group in Judea of the first century B.C.E., different from the Yahad and at a distance from the ruling circles and the temple establishment.

Bibliography Aune, David. 1998. Revelation 6–16 (Dallas: Word).

Collins, John J. 1993. Daniel: A Commentary on the Book of Daniel (Minneapolis: Fortress).

—, 2010. The Scepter and the Star. Messianism in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls.

2nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans).

—, 2011. Gabriel and David: Some Reflections on an Enigmatic Text. Pages 99– 112 in Henze, Hazon Gabriel.

Elgvin, Torleif. 2013. Hasmonean State Ideology, Wars and Expansionism. Pages 52–67 in Encountering Violence in the Bible (M. Zehnder, H. Hagelia, eds.; Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press).

24 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

—, 2014. Gabriel, Vision of. Pages 877–78 in Encyclopedia of the Bible and Its Reception, vol. 9 (Berlin: de Gruyter).

—, 2015. Texts on Messianic Reign from the Hasmonean Period. Forthcoming in L. Grabbe (ed.), The Seleucid and Hasmonean Periods and the Apocalyptic Worldview (London: T&T Clark).

Fishbane, Michael. 1998. Midrash and Messianism: Some Theologies of Suffering and Salvation. Pages 57–71 in Towards the Millenium: Messianic Expectations from the Bible to Waco (P. Schäfer, M. Cohen, eds.; Leiden: Brill).

Fletcher-Louis, Christopher. 2006. Visionary Experience in Ancient Judaism and Christianity. Pages 41–56 in Paradise Now: Essays on Early Jewish and Christian Mysticism (A.D. DeConick, ed., Atlanta: SBL).

—, 2008. Religious Experience and the Apocalypses. Pages 125–44 in Experientia, vol. 1. Inquiry into Religious Experience in Early Judaism and Early Christianity (F. Flannery, C. Shantz, R.A. Werline, eds.; Atlanta: SBL).

Flusser, David. 1988. Hystaspes and John of Patmos. Pages 390–453 in Judaism and the Origins of Christianity (Jerusalem: Magnes).

—. 1994. ‘The Book of Mysteries’ and a Synagogal Prayer. Pages 3–20 in Knesset Ezra. Literature and Life in the Synagogue. Studies Presented to Ezra Fleischer (S. Elizur et al., eds.; Jerusalem: Ben Zvi [Hebrew]).

Goren, Yuval. 2008. Micromorphologic Examination of the Gabriel Revelation Stone. IEJ 58:220–29.

Gray, Rebecca. 1993. Prophetic Figures in Late Second Temple Jewish Palestine. The Evidence from Josephus (Oxford: Oxford University Press).

Hamidovic, David. 2009. La vision de Gabriel. Revue d’Histoire et de Philosphie Religieuses 89:147–68.

—, 2012. An Eschatological Drama in Hazon Gabriel: Fantasy or Historical Background? Semitica 54:233–50.

Heinemann, Joseph. 1975. The Messiah of Ephraim and the Premature Exodus of the Tribe of Ephraim. HTR 8: 1–15.

Hendel, Roland. 2009. The Messiah Son of Joseph: Simply ‘Sign.’ BAR 35/1: 8.

Henze, Matthias (ed.). 2011. Hazon Gabriel. New Readings of the Gabriel Revelation (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature).

Himmelfarb, Martha. 2011. Sefer Zerubbabel and Popular Religion. Pages 621–34 in A Teacher for All Generations: Essays in Honor of James C. VanderKam (E.F. Mason et al., eds.; Leiden: Brill), vol. 2.

—, 2013. The Messiah Son of Joseph in Ancient Judaism. Pages 771–90 in Envisioning Judaism. Studies in Honor of Peter Schäfer on the Occasion of his Seventieth Birthday (R.S. Boustan et al., eds.; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck).

Idel, Moshe. 1998. Messianic Mystics (New Haven: Yale University Press).

Justnes, Årstein. 2013. Divine Violence and the Dead Sea Scrolls. Pages 178–93 in Encountering Violence in the Bible (M. Zehnder, H. Hagelia, eds.; Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press).

Kim, Daewoong. 2011. The Use of Daniel in the Gabriel Revelation. Pages 153–71 in Henze, Hazon Gabriel.

Elgvin, Gabriel Inscription 25

Knohl, Israel. 2007. In Three Days, You Shall Live (Hebrew). Haaretz April 19, 2007.

—, 2011a. The Apocalyptic and Messianic Dimensions of the Gabriel Revelation in Their Historical Context. Pages 389–59 in Henze, Hazon Gabriel.

—, 2011b. The Gabriel Revelation. Pages 435–67 in The Dead Sea Scrolls and Contemporary Culture. Proceedings of the international conference held at the Israel Museum, Jerusalem (July 6–8, 2008) (A.D. Roitman et al., eds.; Leiden: Brill).

Qimron, Elisha. 2010. The Dead Sea Scrolls. The Hebrew Writings. Volume One (Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi).

Qimron, Elisha, and Alexey Yuditsky. 2009. Notes on the So-Called Gabriel Vision Inscription (Hebrew). Cathedra 133:133–44.

—, 2011. Notes on the So-Called Gabriel Vision Inscription. Pages 31–38 in Henze, Hazon Gabriel.

Reeves, John C. 2005. Trajectories in Near Eastern Apocalyptic. A Postrabbinic Jewish Apocalypse Reader (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature).

Schäfer, Peter. 2010. Die Geburt des Judentums aus dem Geist des Christentums (Tübingen: Mohr–Siebeck).

—, 2012. The Jewish Jesus: How Judaism and Christianity Shaped Each Other (Princeton: Princeton University Presss).

Werman, Cana. 2009. A Messiah in Heaven. Pages 281–99 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 (R.A. Clements, D.R. Schwartz, eds.; Leiden: Brill).

Wintermute, O.S. 1983. Apocalypse of Elijah. Pages 721–53 in Old Testament Pseudepigrapha (J. Charlesworth, ed.; New York: Doubleday), vol. 1.

Yardeni, Ada, and Benyamin Elizur. 2007. A Prophetic Text on Stone from the First Century BCE: First Publication (Hebrew). Cathedra 123:155–66.

—, 2011. A Hebrew Prophetic Text on Stone from the Early Herodian Period: A Preliminary Report. Pages 11–29 in Henze, Hazon Gabriel.

www.jjmjs.org

!.

Paul’s Non-Jews Do Not Become ‘Jews,’ But Do They Become ‘Jewish’?: Reading Romans 2:25–29 Within Judaism, Alongside Josephus Mark D. Nanos University of Kansas | mark@marknanos.com JJMJS No. 1 (2014): 26–53

Paul’s “Jewish Assemblies” rather than “Paul’s Gentile Churches”? “Paul’s Jewish non-Jews” instead of “Paul’s Christian Gentiles”? Paul bringing non-Jews into “Judaism” rather than into “Christianity”? Am I really going to argue that these are more accurate labels for discussing the non-Jews whom Paul brought to faith in Jesus Christ and the gatherings of them with Jews sharing that conviction, as well as the communal ways of life into which Paul sought to enculturate them?

Yes—and no.

Being and Becoming Jews and/or Jewish It is generally agreed that the term “Jew” is a noun that refers to people who claim to be such according to the norms for defining identity as a “Jew,” although the parameters have been and continue to be a moving target among and between different groups of Jews, and even from the perspectives of different groups of non-Jews.1 From Paul’s perspective, which parallels the views of most Jews of Paul’s time of whom we have evidence, being a Jew involved being born to parents who are Jews, being circumcised if a male (on the eighth day of life),2 and, ideally, behaving according to the standards that define that identity (Rom 2; 9–11; 2 Cor 11:22; Gal 1:13–14; 2:15–16; Phil 3:4–6).3

1

Defining who is a Jew and who is not is both simple and complex, just as it was during the first century C.E. There are countless studies of the topic. Likewise, defining what is Jewish and what is not is also both simple and complex. Here we are concerned specifically with these issues as they relate to Paul and his influence—not that this is without complexity, but it does provide some limits.

2 Phil 3:5; cf. Gen 17:9–14; Lev 12:3; David A. Bernat, Sign of the Covenant: Circumcision in the Priestly Tradition (Ancient Israel and Its Literature 3; Atlanta: Society of Biblical

Nanos, Paul’s Non-Jews 27

Being identified as a Jew and behaving like a Jew are readily recognized as two related yet not identical matters. The adjective “Jewish” is used both to refer to those who are Jews ethnically and to the behavior generally associated with the way that Jews live, albeit variously defined, such as by different interpretations of Scripture and related traditions, different views of who represents legitimate authority, and different conclusions about what is appropriate for any specific time and place. This behavior can be referred to by the adverb “jewishly,” and as the expression of “jewishness.” In colloquial terms, Literature, 2009); Matthew Theissen, Contesting Conversion: Genealogy, Circumcision, and Identity in Ancient Judaism and Christianity (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011).

3 For the appropriateness of the choice of “Jew/Judaism” and cognates over “Judean/Judeanism” and similar cognates when discussing Paul and the texts from Josephus referred to herein (Rom 2:17–29; Josephus, Ant. 20.17–96; War 2:463; 7.45; and see 2 Macc. 6:1–11; 9:13–17; cf. Philo, On the Special Laws 1.186), see Daniel R. Schwartz, “‘Judaean’ or ‘Jew’? How should we translate ioudaios in Josephus?,” in Jewish Identity in the Greco-Roman World = Jüdische Identität in der griechisch-römischen Welt, ed. Jörg Frey, Daniel R. Schwartz and Stephanie Gripentrog (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2007), 3– 27; Mark D. Nanos, “Paul and Judaism: Why Not Paul’s Judaism?,” in Paul Unbound: Other Perspectives on the Apostle, ed. Mark Douglas Given (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 2010), 117 n. 2 (117–60); Shaye J. D. Cohen, The Beginnings of Jewishness: Boundaries, Varieties, Uncertainties (HCS 31; Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999), 69–106.

Related to this matter is how to identify those who are not Jews; the terms “non-Jew/s” rather than “Gentile/s” are used herein to correspond to the way that Paul and Jews of his day generally used the terms, which involved seeing them as “ethnē,” literally, “nations” or “peoples,” and an individual ethnos would be “a member of the peoples other than Israel/people who are not Jews” (Paul uses Israel/Jews interchangeably; see e.g., Rom 9– 11). See Terence L. Donaldson, “‘Gentile Christianity’ as a Category in the Study of Christian Origins” HTR 106, no. 4 (2013): 433–58, although he concludes to use the term Gentile/s with qualification; in this essay and generally I conclude from the same evidence that it is better to use “non-Jew/s” (for problems Paul was encountering with this category as well as terminology, see Caroline Johnson Hodge, If Sons, Then Heirs: A Study of Kinship and Ethnicity in the Letters of Paul [New York: Oxford University Press, 2007], 55; idem, “The Question of Social Interaction: Gentiles as Gentiles—but also Not—in Pauline Communities,” in Paul Within Judaism, ed. Mark D. Nanos and Magnus Zetterholm [Minneapolis: Fortress Press, forthcoming]). “Christian” and “church” are also avoided herein as anachronistic, and, perhaps more importantly, as misrepresentative of the context for conceptualizing the concerns and viewpoints of Paul and his communities; see e.g., Anders Runesson, “Inventing Christian Identity: Paul, Ignatius, and Theodosius I,” in Exploring Early Christian Identity, ed. Bengt Holmberg (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 59–92; Pamela Michelle Eisenbaum, Paul Was Not a Christian: The Real Message of a Misunderstood Apostle (New York: HarperOne, 2009).

28 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

one who practices a Jewish way of life according to the ancestral customs of the Jews, which is also referred to as practicing “Judaism,” might be called a “good” Jew. But a Jew can also behave in ways that are not considered to be Jewish—unjewishly or gentilely, goyish or goyishly, or even to practice cult to other gods like a Greek—and thus perhaps be regarded as an “apostate” Jew, or worse, a Jew who destroys other Jews (such as Antiochus, who did these un-Jewish, even antiJewish things; Josephus, War 7.46–53), without thereby becoming something other than a Jew in the genealogical ethnic sense of the term.4 Circumcision raises an interesting element for defining identity as well as behavior. It is an identity marker for males that does not signify precisely the same thing as do other elements of Jewish behavior, such as observing days and diets, which, while ethnic, do not determine whether one is a Jew or not.5 Jewish males are circumcised as eight-day-old infants to mark them as Jews;6 whether

4

Cf. Sanhedrin 44a for the later rabbinic view to this effect; Sacha Stern, Jewish Identity in Early Rabbinic Writings (AGJU 23; Leiden and New York: Brill, 1994). See David Goodblatt, Elements of Ancient Jewish Nationalism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), esp. 11–27. Jews who willfully renounce their identity and apostatize completely are rarely referred to in the texts from Paul’s time, at most representing exceptions that prove the rule; see Louis H. Feldman, Jew and Gentile in the Ancient World: Attitudes and Interactions from Alexander to Justinian (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993), 79–83.

5 This is a distinction within Judaism between a rite marking identification (of males) and the behavioral practices incumbent upon those so marked that Pauline interpreters, and New Testament interpreters in general, do not seem to grasp, lumping them together.

They thus fail to see that, e.g., in Galatians, Paul is opposing the transformation of nonJews into Jews, signified by circumcision, but that is not the same thing as opposing the adoption of Jewish behavior by these non-Jews, which Paul’s letter assumes that they have begun to do and promotes that they should do, while adamantly upholding that they must nevertheless remain non-Jews (i.e., not be circumcised). In Galatians, Paul does not oppose Torah or Torah-defined behavior (i.e., Judaism) for Jews—or for non-Jews(!)— but only circumcision for non-Jews. In other words, opposing the transformation of nonJews into Jews does not equate to opposing the adopting of Jewish norms, thoughts, and behavior—it is not the same as opposing the observance of Judaism! See Mark D. Nanos, The Irony of Galatians: Paul’s Letter in First-Century Context (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2002); idem, “Paul and the Jewish Tradition: The Ideology of the Shema,” in Celebrating Paul. Festschrift in Honor of Jerome Murphy-O’Connor, O.P., and Joseph A. Fitzmyer, S.J., ed. Peter Spitaler (CBQMS 48; Washington D.C.: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 2012), 62–80.

6 However, a Jew does not (normally) decide to be circumcised; it is decided by his parents, thus it signifies that his parents practiced Jewish behavior.

Nanos, Paul’s Non-Jews 29

they will later decide to behave jewishly, including having their own sons circumcised, remains to be seen.7 We thus can distinguish, albeit not without overlap, between the genealogical or ethnic identity of Jews as Jewish people and behavior that characterizes Jews (and is thus ethnic), ideally at least, which is also referred to as behavior that is “Jewish,” i.e., behaving “jewishly,” in a way characteristic of “jewishness,” or as practicing “Judaism.”

Could non-Jews become Jews? According to some Jews, including Paul (Gal 2:11–14; 5:2–3, 11–12; 6:12–13), they could.8 There were also Jews who did not approve of or promote such policies and would not accept the identity transformation claimed, or at least that it was as complete as others supposed it to be.9 Some informed non-Jews also recognized that non-Jews could become Jews.10 In the texts from Paul’s time it is generally clear that circumcision

7

If one born to Jewish parents (in rabbinic terms, to a Jewish mother) is not circumcised but decides later in life to undertake the rite, that is closer to the question of choice discussed below for non-Jews.

8 In addition to the brief discussion of Izates below, for more detail see Mark D. Nanos, “The Question of Conceptualization: Qualifying Paul’s Position on Circumcision in Dialogue with Josephus’s Advisors to King Izates,” in Nanos and Zetterholm, Paul Within Judaism. For why ioudaïzein in Gal 2:11–14 indicates becoming a Jew, see Mark D. Nanos, “What Was at Stake in Peter’s ‘Eating with Gentiles’ at Antioch?,” in The Galatians Debate: Contemporary Issues in Rhetorical and Historical Interpretation, ed.

Mark D. Nanos, (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 2002), 306–12 (282–318). For somewhat different conclusions, see Cohen, Beginnings of Jewishness, 146–62, 175–97. For a later rabbinic statement affirming the change of ethnic identity, see b. Yeb. 47b; Cohen, Beginnings of Jewishness, 198–238, 342.

9 E.g., Jubilees 15:26 indicates that only those circumcised on the eighth day qualified as “the sons of the covenant which the Lord made with Abraham,” by definition ruling out the transformation of non-Jews into Jews as adults; see Matthew Theissen, Contesting Conversion, 67–86. E.g., there were mixed opinions about whether those who were constrained to be circumcised and observe Jewish customs under Hasmonean rule (like Idumeans, and thus Herod’s lineage), even if called thereafter Ioudaioi, were in fact fully or only partially Ioudaioi, or Ioudaioi of a different kind (Ant. 13.257–58; 14.403); see Cohen, Beginnings of Jewishness, 109–39; Theissen, Contesting Conversion, 87–110. For later rabbinic controversies, see Gary G. Porton, The Stranger Within Your Gates: Converts and Conversion in Rabbinic Literature (CSHJ; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994); Lawrence A. Hoffman, Covenant of Blood: Circumcision and Gender in Rabbinic Judaism (CSJH; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996).

10 Horace, Sat. 1.9.68–70; Petronius, Sat. 102.14; Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.13.137; Epictetus, Discourses. 2.9.19–21; Juvenal, Sat. 14.96–106; Tacitus, Hist. 5.5.1–2; Seutonius, Domitian 12.2; see Cohen, Beginnings of Jewishness, 29–49.

30 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

represents a decisive rite for a (male) non-Jew to undertake to become a proselyte, a Jew by choice rather than from their family of origin. Otherwise, a (male) non-Jew remains merely a non-Jew who is in some way affiliated with or attracted to Jews or Jewish beliefs and practices, such as those recognized as “fearers of God [theosebeis].”11 They may behave jewishly and even be considered “jewish,” but they are generally recognized as non-Jews, certainly if known to have been born non-Jews and not undertaken the transformative rites (circumcision usually most explicitly) involved in becoming Jews. The matter is far more ambiguous where non-Jewish women becoming Jews or not is concerned, but it does not seem to have been a topic of argument among Jews that a woman born to Jewish parents was a Jew.12 In other words, “Jewish” is an adjective used sometimes to refer to a Jew or group of Jews: he or she is Jewish, they are the Jewish people. But “Jewish” can also modify references to the thoughts, behavior, gatherings, and institutions of those who are “Jews,” a complex known as the practice of “Judaism,” and, as the texts discussed below indicate, it can also refer—on grammatical and logical grounds—to the thoughts, behavior, gatherings, and institutions of those who are “not Jews” when they think, behave, gather, or in other ways reflect norms and values that are generally associated with the thoughts, behavior, gatherings, and norms and values of Jews. In short, non-Jews can think and behave in ways described as “jewish” (for which I will use the lower case form to distinguish this from Jewish when describing those who are ethnically Jews); non-Jews can practice many of the elements of Judaism, the Jewish way of life developed by and for Jews; and they can do so without being or becoming Jews, just as Jews can choose not to think or behave in these ways.

Because ethnic identity (Jew/s) and ethnic thinking and behavior (Jewish/jewishly/jewishness/Judaism) are clearly related, but not synonymous, interchangeable terms, an interesting phenomenon arises when seeking to describe groups as Jewish. Although “Jewish” can be and is most often used to refer to Jews specifically, and thus gatherings of Jews—they are Jewish, the Jewish people, a Jewish service, and so on—as we will see, “Jewish” can also refer to groups or activities that include non-Jews among Jews: that group is Jewish, although it includes non-Jews who appear to think and behave like Jews. What if a group mostly made up of non-Jews with some Jews in leadership behaves jewishly? What if it is made up exclusively of non-Jews yet founded or advised

11

Discussion below of the case of King Izates; cf. Cohen, Beginnings of Jewishness, 156–74.

Cf. Shaye J. D. Cohen, Why Aren’t Jewish Women Circumcised?: Gender and Covenant in Judaism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005).

12

Nanos, Paul’s Non-Jews 31

by Jews? What if it consists of only non-Jews and functions independent of any Jews yet bases its thinking and behavior on Jewish Scriptures, traditions, and ways of life? Would any of these cases fall within the adjectival descriptive “Jewish,” or, as suggested above to distinguish this from ethnic Jews, “jewish”?

At this point there is an issue that arises especially for discussing Paul.

It is widely recognized that Paul opposed non-Jews becoming Jews after they became followers of Christ. He often referred to this as “circumcision,” the rite that signified completion of the process for males (Rom 4:9–12; 1 Cor 7:17–20; Gal 2:3; 3:3; 5:2–3, 11–12; 6:12–13). When writing to non-Jews to dissuade them from becoming Jews or to combat the otherwise obvious advantage of being a Jew when entering this movement within Judaism, Paul argued that these uncircumcised non-Jews were full and equal members of the family of God alongside of the Jewish members, indeed, equally children of Abraham and coheirs of the promises made to him and his seed, and not simply welcome guests.

This was based upon the chronometrical claim of the gospel that the day when all of the nations will join the Israelites to worship the One God of all humankind had dawned with the resurrection of Jesus as Messiah (Rom 3:29– 4:25; Gal 3:6–4:7, 28).13 When calling both Jews and non-Jews who believed in Jesus as Christ to respect each other as equals, he stated that “being circumcised or foreskinned” is not to serve as the basis for discrimination among themselves any more than should differences that remain in terms of gender and status as slave or free (Rom 3:29–4:12; 1 Cor 7:17–20; Gal 3:26–29; 5:2–6; 6:15). These highly contextualized arguments have often been interpreted to mean that Paul no longer regarded circumcision, and thus covenantal identity for Jews, to hold any significance, that he regarded these as adiaphora (indifferent things) for Christ-followers, including himself.

This deduction has led some Pauline scholars to conclude that he also abandoned even the identity of being a Jew, although most believe that Paul remained a Jew ethnically even if he no longer ascribed value to that identity.14 Few, however, uphold that Paul is best described within Judaism.15 It is instead widely held that Paul left behind the practice of Judaism, that he no longer 13

Nanos, “Paul and the Jewish Tradition.”

This is ubiquitous in traditional treatments of Paul, recently Love L. Sechrest, A Former Jew: Paul and the Dialectics of Race (LNTS; London and New York: T&T Clark, 2009); it is regularly expressed by New Perspective interpreters, albeit inconsistently; see James D. G. Dunn, “Who Did Paul Think He Was? A Study of Jewish-Christian Identity” NTS 45 (1999): 179 vs. 192 (174–93).

15 A new volume, Paul Within Judaism (ed. Nanos and Zetterholm), will challenge this legacy.

14

32 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

behaved jewishly or intentionally expressed jewishness (he remained Jewish ethnically but not religiously, if you will). Obviously, it follows that such a Paul would not promote Judaism or form Jewish communities, and one does not read Pauline scholars referring to Paul bringing non-Jews into a Jewish way of life, into Judaism, into Jewish synagogues or communities or even into Jewish subgroups. In fact, one often encounters descriptions of Paul opposing the conversion of non-Jews “into Judaism.” The discourse generally proceeds as if the terms “becoming a Jew” (being circumcised) and “becoming Jewish” or “practicing Judaism” are completely interchangeable—which, as just discussed, is not actually the case. The texts to which they refer seek to dissuade Christfollowing non-Jews “from becoming Jews” (i.e., undertaking the rite of circumcision), which is not the same thing as opposing non-Jews thinking or behaving in Jewish ways, jewishly, or practicing Judaism. An ironic twist is revealed when many of these same interpreters (joined by some of those who deny Paul remained a Jew, or at least that it no longer held value for him) maintain that he viewed non-Jews who believed in Jesus to have become “spiritual” or “true” Jews, usually by appealing to Rom 2:25–29,16 to which we will turn after a survey of a few texts from Josephus. These will help us discuss the ways to conceptualize and describe similar dynamics from the viewpoint of another first-century Jewish author who primarily addressed non-Jewish readers. We will look at several texts that describe the phenomenon of non-Jews who practice Jewish ways of life while remaining non-Jews, or who even became Jews, various levels of interaction they had with Jews and Jewish communities in the Diaspora, and different reactions to these decisions by both Jews and nonJews who constitute their non-Jewish family, neighbors, and civic authorities.

Josephus’s Report of ‘Judaizing’ Syrian Non-Jews Viewed with Ambivalence and Suspicion by Their Syrian Neighbors Josephus chronicles a series of events in Syria that took place in approximately 66 C.E. Groups of Syrian non-Jews attacked and massacred Syrian Jews, who retaliated similarly in partnership with certain Judean Jews. What is of interest

16

N. T. Wright, Paul and the Faithfulness of God (COQG 4; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2013), on 1436 writes, “Being a ‘Jew’ was no longer Paul’s basic identity” (emphasis his), just pages after writing, “Paul can refer to spirit-led, Messiah-believing Gentiles and Jews together as ‘the Jew’; ‘the circumcised’; and even on occasion as ‘Israel’ . . .” (1432).

Nanos, Paul’s Non-Jews 33

here is the way that Josephus refers to a group of Syrian non-Jews spared during these attacks as “judaized”:17 They [the majority population Syrian non-Jews] passed their days in blood, their nights, yet more dreadful, in terror. For though believing that they had rid themselves of the Jews, still each city had its Judaizers, who aroused suspicion [ἕκαστοι τοὺς ἰουδαΐζοντας εἶχον ἐν ὑποψίᾳ]; and while they shrunk from killing offhand each ambiguous one [ἑκάστοις ἀμφίβολον] in their midst, they feared those being mixed together as if really of another tribe [μεμιγμένον ὡς βεβαίως ἀλλόφυλον; or: aliens/foreigners]. (War 2:463; Loeb, trans. Thackeray, with alterations where the Greek is provided)18 The identity—and thus loyalty—of these Syrian non-Jews is captured by referring to them as “each ambiguous one in their [the majority Syrian nonJews’] midst.” They were spared, yet suspect.

Josephus’s description of these Syrian non-Jews is far from clear. He does not identify them as having become circumcised or (proselyte) Jews “really/certainly [βεβαίως],” such as he does identify some elsewhere (2.454; Ant. 3.318; 14.403; 20.38–43 [Izates]; Ag. Ap. 2.210; cf. Tobit 1:8). The level of distrust and concern about them could suggest that they were regarded as proselytes, or on the path to becoming such. It was as if they were not fully Syrians but “really of another tribe”; that is, they feared that the loyalties of these non-Jews were with the Syrian Jews (perhaps Syrian Judeans is helpful here) more so than would be expected of Syrians who were merely practicing some ways of life characteristic of Jews, including assembling with them to do so. Are they 17

This term was used to refer to the actions of non-Jews when they adopt Jewish behavior or become Jews; it is not used to describe Jews who seek to persuade non-Jews. See Cohen, Beginnings of Jewishness, 175–97; Nanos, Irony of Galatians, 115–19.

18 It is unclear to what the participle “being mixed” refers, but it seems here to connote the mixing of the non-Jewish identity of these Syrians with their practices of Judaism among Jews, who are of another tribe, i.e., with ancestry not from Syria but Judea and thus different ancestral customs and cult practices that Syrian non-Jews would not normally be expected to observe; hence, their ambiguous identity and uncertain loyalties arise because of religious practices and associations that are not natural or traditional for them from birth. Cf. Donaldson, Judaism and the Gentiles, 294–96. Cohen, Beginnings, 184, suggests the last clause read: “and it was feared as if it were truly foreign, although it was mixed.”

34 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

regarded as close friends of the Jews, or as if they are now family members?

Given the way that these violent riots and massacres by the mob were proceeding, the nuanced, reasoned restraint towards them makes it unlikely that they had become proselyte Jews and were no longer in any way celebrating family and civic cult. More likely, these Syrians were in some ways still identifiably observing normal Syrian practices in addition to mixing with Jews and observing certain Jewish customs, at least when among the Jewish communities, if not also in certain ways when among their non-Jewish families and neighbors. If they were suspected of having become Jews, it seems to follow that the same level of hostility and concomitant actions taken against Jews would have been taken against them—perhaps even more so, since they would be regarded as traitors by choice rather than birth.

The questions I want to pose are these: 1) Are they not “jewish non-Jews,” who are spared but nevertheless suspect, their ultimate loyalties “mixed” in such a way that they cannot be completely trusted? Is not their own level of Jewish behavior or jewishness a salient issue, as well as their close affiliation with Jews?

2) Would we expect Josephus to refer to the gatherings of these ambiguous ones with Jews as “Gentile assemblies” or as “Jewish assemblies” that included “judaizing non-Jews”? Does not their identification as “judaizers” suspected of being loyal to “another tribe” more than their own from birth indicate that they assembled with groups under the authority of Jewish leaders and conducted according to Jewish norms, thus that these were “Jewish” groups and that they participated in the practice of Judaism?

Another Account of Syrian Non-Jews Participating in Jewish Ceremonies and Jewish Communal Life by Josephus In War 7.41–62, when relating events shortly after the fall of Jerusalem in 70 C.E., Josephus refers back to earlier developments in Syria similar to those he related in the text just discussed (2.462–63; cf. 559–61). While engaged in explaining the good relations between and mixing (ἀναμείγνῡμι) of Judeans among Syrians for many years following the hostile events that took place under Antiochus Epiphanes (7.73–74),19 Josephus presents a number of Syrian non-Jews (which 19

In this case, Josephus refers to the geographical proximity of Judea and Syria and to the Judean nation (Ἰουδαίων γένος) being dispersed among the inhabitants of the earth, thus highlighting the judeanness of these Jews, which remains salient throughout this account of the hostilities that includes the dynamics resulting from the high level of integration as well as the incorporation of Syrians among the Jews/Judeans.

Nanos, Paul’s Non-Jews 35

he calls “a great multitude of Greeks [πολὺ πλῆθος Ἑλλήνων]”) in a way that suggests that they remained recognizably non-Jews who have been socialized into the religious life of the communities of Syrian Jews:20 Moreover, they [the Jews of Syria] were constantly attracting to their religious ceremonies [προσαγόμενοι ταῖς θρησκείαις: or: cult practices]21 multitudes of Greeks, and these they had in some measure incorporated with themselves [κἀκείνους τρόπῳ τινὶ μοῖραν αὐτῶν πεποίηντο: or: and also they had made them, in a way, a part of themselves]. (War 7.45, Loeb; trans.

Thackeray) Some interpreters have understood this to indicate active recruiting of non-Jews, yet Josephus’s language need not indicate more than that Jewish communities were welcomingly leading (προσαγόμενοι) interested non-Jews, whom they generously also “incorporated” with themselves, to participate in their communal life.22 The ambiguity in Josephus’s description allows for various levels of involvement, from attraction to Jewish customs and the ideals and actions attributed to their God and ancestors, to affiliation resulting from employment or marriage. Some may have become proselytes, but his language does not require this. Whatever the precise details, Josephus’s description suggests that the identity of more than a few Syrian non-Jews was intimately linked with that of the Jewish people, but they still remained distinguishable from Syrian Jews and Judeans.

It is unclear how many non-Jews he had in view, but even if many, the questions it poses for us remain similar to those of the text discussed above, although they might arise in the opposite order:

20

Goodman, Mission and Conversion: Proselytizing in the Religious History of the Roman Empire (Oxford and New York: Clarendon Press, 1994), 87, refers to them as God-fearers, which seems warranted here; so too Donaldson, Judaism and the Gentiles, 294–96, 305–7.

However, Cohen, Beginnings, 159, interprets them to be proselytes.

21 The Greek word thrēskeia can refer to religious worship, rituals, and cult. Josephus uses thrēskeia to refer to general religious observance (War 2.198, 391; 7.45), general temple worship (War 4.324; 5.198, 199; 6.100, 442), and particular observances (Sabbath in 1.146; 2.456; Passover in 2.10; Pentecost in 2.42; temple sacrifice in 1.148, 150; 4.275; 5.229; 6.427); from Donaldson, Judaism and the Gentiles, 298 n. 33; and see also 307 n. 46.

22 Cf. Donaldson, Judaism and the Gentiles, 306–7.

36 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

1) How likely is it that Josephus, or his readers, including us, would refer to these communities or their gatherings by the adjectives “Gentile” or “non-Jewish” rather than “Jewish”? Once again, would not what he describes almost certainly be better categorized as “Jewish groups” with non-Jews integrated to various degrees among them?

2) Does not the description of these non-Jews as “in some manner/measure/way” participating in Jewish communal life betray the fact that they remain distinguishable from Jews/Judeans in Syria? At the same time, they are distinguishable from other Syrian non-Jews by their jewishness, by their participation in Jewish communal religious activities; i.e., by behaving jewishly, practicing Judaism. Are they not jewish non-Jews?

Josephus’s Narrative of King Izates of Adiabene and His Mother Helena: Jewish Non-Jews Who Become Jews?

There are many striking elements in Josephus’s account about Izates, the king of the Parthian client territory of Adiabene, and his mother, Helena, who were not born Jews and ruled a non-Jewish/non-Judean people (Ant. 20.17–96). The events overlap with Paul’s ministry in the 40s and 50s C.E. (20.15–17), and include interesting parallels to elements of Paul’s approach to and instructions for non-Jews in the Roman Empire. Several scenes warrant discussion.

Before Izates was crowned king, his parents sent him to live in Charax Spasini for protection (20.22). While there, according to Josephus, a Jewish merchant, Ananias, taught several women of the royal family with whom Izates was staying “to worship God [the Deity] according to the Jewish ancestral traditions [ὡς Ἰουδαίοις πάτριον]” (20.34). When Izates learned of this, he too was successfully “persuaded/urged [συνανέπεισεν]” to do the same (20.35). Josephus specifically identifies them as women, and makes no mention of any other Jewish figures present, or of a Jewish community there. These non-Jews seem to have taken up several ideas and behaviors recognizably Jewish, presumably adding these to the practices of their other native customs. It seems unlikely that their gatherings represent Jews’ gatherings or would be properly called synagogues or Jewish assemblies; rather, they apparently represent the assembling of non-Jews to observe certain Jewish customs. It does seem likely that others in their family and from their people, as well as they themselves, would recognize that these meetings involve non-Jews behaving jewishly/practicing Judaism in some ways/at some times.

When Izates returned to the kingdom of Adiabene to assume the crown following the death of his father, he learned that his mother had simultaneously

Nanos, Paul’s Non-Jews 37

begun to observe certain Jewish customs under the direction of a different Jew, who remains unnamed (20.35–38). Izates is described as becoming aware of Helena’s “rejoicing in the Jews’ customs [τοῖς Ἰουδαίων ἔθεσιν]” (20.38), referred to also as “their laws/conventions [νόμους]” (20.35). Izates thus resolved to go beyond merely adopting the ancestral traditions observed in Charax while remaining a non-Jew; instead, he “hastened to also change/cross over/convert [μεταθέσθαι] into them [ἐκεῖνα] himself” (20.38). Izates is presented to reason that he would not be “definitively/genuinely a Jew [βεβαίως Ἰουδαῖος] if he has not been circumcised, which he was ready to do” (20.38).

It remains unclear whether Izates supposed heretofore that he had become a Jew, or if he was simply unaware of the distinction between adopting (some) Jewish behavior, most likely adding such behavior to the rest of the customs and cult practices of his people as well as those of the people among whom he was residing, and becoming a Jew. Since the matter of circumcision with its signification of identity transformation does not pertain to Helena, it is also unclear if she is still a non-Jew or is recognized to have become a Jew. Izates’s sudden interest in undertaking to be circumcised at this point might suggest that Helena’s teacher has raised this matter directly, or perhaps Izates just inferred it, maybe from the way that she articulated her commitment or experience.

Upon learning of Izates’s plan to become circumcised, Ananias, who has accompanied him to Adiabene, and his mother both vehemently oppose this step for him (20.39–42). They argue that his subjects, who are not Jews, will rebel against such a change of identity for their king. They did not, however, oppose him observing certain Jewish beliefs and behavior! But becoming a Jew by way of undertaking circumcision would send a very different message, one involving rejection of their native gods and customs, which they (correctly) anticipate will lead to rebellion against his rule.

Before we get to the introduction of the next Jewish figure, it is worth pausing to ask whether Helena and Izates at this point represent jewish nonJews. They are in some ways behaving jewishly, and their jewishness is observably different from that of other nobles and their subjects, except some other female members of the royal household of Helena. There is still no mention of any Jewish community in Adiabene,23 or of them participating in

23

Elsewhere Josephus mentions many Jews in Babylon and in the major cities of Parthia, and their collection, treasury, and transportation of the tax for the Jerusalem temple (Ant. 18.310–13, 314–79).

38 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

meetings with Jews other than the two Jews who have been instructing them in Jewish customs, which they have done independently of each other.

1) Thus, unless Helena is regarded to be a Jew, are not their gatherings to practice Jewish customs (whatever they were, and however often observed) still best described as gatherings of non-Jews/Gentiles?

2) Although they behave in and thus think in some ways associated with Jews, i.e., jewishly, practicing Judaism, do they not do so as non-Jews, hence, are they not jewish non-Jews?

The next development in Josephus’s story is of interest in many ways.

Here we will focus on the change of identity for Izates that the new Jewish person on the scene in Adiabene, Eleazar, explicitly promotes (20.43–45). In contrast to the opposition to circumcision upheld by Helena and Ananias, Eleazar argues that to piously conform to the teachings of Torah that Izates has been reading for guidance he must become circumcised; otherwise, he is guilty of impiety for failure to act according to what he has learned! Hearing this logic, Izates calls for the physician in order to be circumcised and “complete what was commanded [τὸ προσταχθὲν ἐτέλει],” thereby accomplishing “the act/rite” that will render him genuinely a Jew. The rest of the story develops around how God comes to Izates’s rescue, because of his “faithfulness alone” to do that which God instructed in Torah (20.48, 89–91) in the face of the negative reactions from his fellow nobles and the people of his kingdom, who seek to overthrow Izates’s rule because he rejected their gods and customs for those of a foreign people, just as Helena and Ananias anticipated (20.75–91). As you can see, there are many interesting dynamics to explore, not least for those interested in understanding Paul.24 Remaining on topic, and recognizing that there are no larger or even other Jewish communities explicitly mentioned, or any involvement in them by Izates and his mother (or after his death, by his brother, who follows his example and wants to practice Judaism),25 the taxonomical issues nevertheless become more taxing. They seem to be Jews behaving jewishly, known by others for their jewishness, for their Jewish beliefs and behavior, even at the cost of significant social pressure, rather than to have remained non-Jews who simply added Jewish customs and beliefs to those they already upheld according to Adiabene traditions. After Izates has undertaken circumcision in order to be completely faithful to what Torah prescribes according to Eleazar, is he not a Jew? In the case of Helena, there is no such marker to identify her transformation, yet she 24 25

See Nanos, “The Question of Conceptualization.”

The decision of his brother(s) and a few stories of their rule are related in 20.75–76, 92–96.

Nanos, Paul’s Non-Jews 39

may well be regarded to have become a Jew also. In either case, based on Izates’s change of identity, is he not a Jew after choosing to adopt the identity, beliefs, and practices of the Jews, i.e., Judaism? The salience of judeanness is also raised: Helena goes to Judea with alms (probably during the same famine that Paul reportedly responded to with alms), and she wants to be and is buried there (as also is Izates); moreover, several of Izates’s sons go to school in Jerusalem (Ant. 20.49–53, 71, 95).26 1) Rather than “jewish” non-Jews, is Izates (if not also Helena) now not a Jew, indeed, a Jewish Jew? Is he not a Jew practicing Judaism?

2) Once they are recognized as Jews, when they meet together, are their gatherings not Jewish assemblies or synagogues?27 Paul’s Non-Jews, with Special Attention to Romans 2:25–29 Paul prohibited non-Jews who turned to God in Christ from becoming Jews, yet at the same time he also instructed them not to practice one of the most basic ways of being non-Jews in the Roman world of Paul’s time, namely, family and civic cult (Rom 3:29–4:25; 6; 1 Cor 7:17–22; Gal 4:8–10; 1 Thess 1:9–10).28 Their turning to the worship of Israel’s God under the influence of a Jewish teacher of non-Jews would almost certainly suggest to many of their family members and neighbors that they were acting jewishly, practicing Judaism, the way of life developed by Jews—and that is indeed what Paul promoted that these non-Jews should do, although insisting they do so while remaining non-Jews. If they were attending subgroup meetings of local Jewish groups defined around allegiance to 26 Additional stories, including in the rabbinic material, are discussed in Tessa Rajak, “The Parthians in Josephus,” in Das Partherreich un seine Zeugnisse: Beiträge des internationalen Colloquiums, Eutin (27. - 30 Juni 1996), ed. J. Wiesehöfer (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1998), 309–24; Lawrence H. Schiffman, “The Conversion of the Royal House of Abiabene [sp] in Josephus and Rabbinic Sources,” in Josephus, Judaism, and Christianity, ed. Louis H. Feldman and Gohei Hata (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1987), 293–312; Feldman, Jew and Gentile in the Ancient World, 328–31.

27 Synagōgē was used during Paul’s period not only to refer to the space where assemblies took place, which included homes and other spaces adopted for certain activities, but also to the assembly or gathering itself, being in each of these uses synonymous with usage of the term ekklēsia; see Anders Runesson, The Origins of the Synagogue: A Socio-historical Study (CBNTS 37; Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International, 2001).

28 Cf. Paula Fredriksen, “Judaizing the Nations: The Ritual Demands of Paul’s Gospel,” New Testament Studies 56 (2010): 232–52; idem, “The Question of Worship: Gods, Pagans, and the Redemption of Israel,” in Nanos and Zetterholm, Paul Within Judaism; Nanos, Irony of Galatians, 257–71.

40 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

Jesus as Christ/Messiah, even if small and marginalized by some other Jews, that inner-group dynamic would probably be unrecognized among non-Jewish observers of this phenomenon: they would most likely (and correctly) perceive that these fellow non-Jews gathered within Jewish groups and practiced Jewish ways of life and cult. When they began to substantiate their ways of thinking and living by appeal to Jewish Scriptures and traditions—as does Paul, whom presumably they would imitate— they would almost certainly (and rightly) be considered to be behaving like Jews.29 Instead of a survey of the many ways that Paul instructed Christfollowing non-Jews to behave jewishly,30 I want to briefly look at a text that seems to most Pauline scholars to close the door to a Paul who continued to value his Jewish covenantal identity by behaving according to Torah-defined ways of life, and all the more to one promoting Judaism in the way he proclaimed the gospel and instructed the non-Jews attracted to his message.

That text is Rom 2:25–29.

Paul’s Message in Romans 2:25–29 The chapter within which this text appears begins with a challenge to anyone judging others, based on the argument that the very act of knowing there is a standard to which the other is held logically involves knowing that one has also failed to achieve it. Realizing that God is the judge who is fully aware of both one’s own intentions and actions as well as those of one’s neighbors, the message Paul drives home is to focus on one’s own responsibilities to do what is required of one, to judge oneself and leave the judging of others to the Judge, rejoicing in the knowledge that God is kind and forgiving toward those who err along the way when they make proper amends. Paul completes the argument of verses 1– 11 by asserting that God is impartial, both kind and just with the Jew first, and also with the non-Jew.31 In the next argument (vv. 12–16), Paul makes it plain that God judges according to faithful behavior, which is not expected to represent precisely the same standards for Jews and non-Jews; instead, each is held to the standard of what they know to be proper behavior. God knows both what they do and what

29

Cf. Kathy Ehrensperger, Paul at the Crossroads of Cultures: Theologizing in the SpaceBetween (London, et al: Bloomsbury, 2013).

30 This is available in various publications; see www.marknanos.com.

31 Additional details of this reading are provided in Mark D. Nanos, “Romans,” in The Jewish Annotated New Testament, ed. Amy-Jill Levine and Marc Zvi Brettler (New York, et al: Oxford University Press, 2011), 257–61 (253–86).

Nanos, Paul’s Non-Jews 41

they intended for that action to achieve, including when they have exploited the very laws and principles that were designed to guide them to do right rather than to justify the doing of wrong by, for example, legal loopholes. The real intentions behind one’s actions do not escape God’s notice anymore than actions that run contrary to the behavior publicly known. Each is judged by what they know to be right—a just God would have it no other way. That means Jews are judged first just as they are forgiven first, because they have been given the gift of God’s “Guidance” (Torah), but non-Jews will also be judged and can be forgiven according to that which the created order revealed and society’s nomos (laws/conventions) recognized to be proper and improper, which is not always the same as that of which one’s peers approve (a point that reaches back to the argument in 1:18–32, that there are conventions developed around improper behavior too).

This leads to the argument in verses 17–24, which introduce a fictive character: “But if you name yourself [or: are being named] a Jew, and . . .” (v.

17).32 The continuation of the sentence following “and” is paramount to following the critique Paul mounts to this one, but it is often not sufficiently appreciated by commentators. Paul’s critique is “if” he would announce his identity publicly [or is announced publicly to be such] “and rely on nomos [law/convention/Torah] and glory in God, and know the will and approve the things that matter, instructing (or: being instructed) from the nomos [Torah], so [that] you persuaded yourself to be a guide to the blind, a light to those in darkness, an instructor of foolish ones, a teacher of children, having the shape of the knowledge and the truth in the nomos [Torah]: You, therefore, teaching others, will you not teach yourself?” (vv. 17–21a).33

32

The verb can be passive. On the diatribal features throughout this section, see Stanley Kent Stowers, A Rereading of Romans: Justice, Jews, and Gentiles (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994); Neil Elliott, The Rhetoric of Romans: Argumentative Constraint and Strategy and Paul’s Dialogue with Judaism (JSNTSup 45; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1990). On 2:17ff. in particular, see Stowers, Rereading of Romans, 143– 58; Runar M. Thorsteinsson, Paul’s Interlocutor in Romans 2: Function and Identity in the Context of Ancient Epistolography (CBNTS 40; Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International, 2003).

33 Cf. m. Avot 1:12–17 (Neusner trans.): “Hillel says, ‘Be disciples of Aaron, loving peace and pursuing peace, loving people and drawing them near to Torah.’ He would say, ‘A name made great is a name destroyed. . . . If I am not for myself, who is for me? And when I am for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?’ Shammai says, ‘Make your learning of Torah a fixed obligation. Say little and do much. . . .’ Simeon his [Rabban Gamaliel’s] son says, ‘All my life I grew up among the sages, and I found nothing better

42 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

Paul proceeds to indict the one presuming to teach, but it is not for any of the motives listed, which are all praiseworthy, including the impulse to teach the nations, which Paul makes central to what it means to be a Jew and to be circumcised in 3:2—for the Jew is the one entrusted with the oracles of God! Moreover, the teaching of the nations as a spokesperson from Israel is precisely Paul’s own purpose, which he makes plain throughout the letter, and in several cases Paul specifically invokes his own credentials as a Jew, and related claims to authority with respect to those to whom he writes (Rom 11:1–14; 15:15–32; 2 Cor 11:21–12:21; Gal 3:14–16; Phil 3:3–6). The critique is for such a fictive teacher “if” he does not also first of all hold himself to the very standards that he promotes to others. The specific elements, including stealing, adultery, and robbing temples, represent behavior that any teacher of reputable laws, and all the more Torah, would agree are egregious sins; but for a teacher of the values they transgress, these are hypocritical. Verse 24 wraps up the accusation with a citation from Isaiah 52:5 (LXX; bearing witness to an ancient Israelite tradition concerned with this matter), that such failure to live according to the values that one proclaims others should adopt would give the nations cause to blaspheme the God to which such a teacher called attention!34 The criticism is not of boasting, as so often stated, or of bigotry;35 what is circumscribed is hypocrisy, claiming to represent norms that others should embrace that one has not internalized to guide their own aims and behavior.

There is nothing wrong with boasting (glorying) in God—Paul appeals to it later

for a person than silence. And not the learning is the main thing but the doing. And whoever talks too much causes sin.’” Also consider: “Abba Saul b. Nanos said: There are four types of scholars: . . . ‘He who taught others but did not teach himself’—how is this?

A man learnt an Order or two or three [of the Mishnah] several times and taught them to others, but he did not occupy himself with them so that he forgot them—he is one who taught others but did not teach himself. . . .”; Abot de-Rabbi Nathan (A) 29.3; A. Cohen, and Israel Brodie, The Minor Tractates of the Talmud: Massektoth Ketannoth (Vol. 1; London: Soncino Press, 1966), 140.

34 Although the original context for Isaiah concerned the state of Israel in captivity, the idea is similar in that instead of bearing witness to being indeed God’s chosen instrument, such a state of hypocrisy betrays that witness from the perspective of the outside observer.

35 Robert Jewett, Romans (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2006), 222–37; if presuming it is Israel’s role to declare these things to the nations constitutes “cultural exceptionalism” and “bigotry,” then Paul is equally guilty of these by his own argument here and throughout his letters—indeed, by the presumption of his ministry as a representative of God and Israel by definition.

Nanos, Paul’s Non-Jews 43

in this letter and he boasts/glories in Christ!36 There is something terribly wrong, however, “if” one would glory in God “and” then proceed to make himself God’s spokesperson without also making it his first order of business to behave in accordance with what he teaches. Instead of bringing glory to God, it creates disgust—for a God presumed to endorse such behavior is hardly to be praised.

Note, too, that it is not a list of the fictive teacher’s motives that are exposed as hypocrisy, but, importantly, it is his activities that are listed as selfcondemning. The way that he (hypothetically) behaves undermines the values that he should stand for based on what he teaches, and supposedly, the reasons that he teaches these values—specifically, if known to be a Jew. Paul’s appeal to the title of “Jew” is apparently based upon assuming awareness among his readers of a widely held stereotype that Jews by definition served as the model for practicing what one preaches.37 Paul thus develops a rhetorical gambit to illustrate a principle that he wants his readers as non-Jews to grasp for themselves by employing a fictive Jew, much like the prophet Nathan employed the example of a rich man exploiting the poor man to teach David what his own actions would look like if he could rightly see himself from a distance (2 Sam 12). Paul wants to censure hypocrisy among the non-Jews to whom he writes, not among Jews, in this case, the fictive Jew whom he constructs toward that end.38 (Unfortunately, after followers of Christ were no longer part of Judaism and the movement had no Jews, Paul’s original rhetorical character was subverted and served as a foil for negative Christian portrayals of and policies toward Jews and Judaism, seemingly in concert with Jesus’ critique of Pharisees as self-righteous hypocrites.39) This argument leads us up to verses 25–29, on which I wish to focus. But before we turn to that, it is also worthwhile to briefly mention the way that Paul’s argument continues thereafter, in chapter 3.

Following the argument at 2:29, the diatribe question raised in 3:1 is whether there is thus any value—in the literal sense—in being a Jew or 36

5:2, 3, 11; Phil 3:3.

Epictetus, Discourses 2.9.19–22; 2.19.19–28, provides an example from a non-Jew philosopher; Stowers, Rereading Romans, 144–48, lists several others.

38 Cf. Neil Elliott, The Arrogance of Nations: Reading Romans in the Shadow of Empire (Paul in Critical Contexts; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2008), 103–5.

39 The Gospels’ Jesus is critical but it is in terms of intra-Jewish group hyperbole with a close and feared rival, and its impact would only be successful if Pharisees actually decried hypocrisy also, and would, for example, agree with Jesus that doing things that are public if not also done for the right reasons are empty, although this contextual qualification has been largely overlooked in the history of interpretation. Cf. Stowers, Rereading of Romans, 143–44.

37

44 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

circumcised. The reply in verse 2 is an emphatic, “Much, in every way!” Why? Because “they have been entrusted with the oracles of God.” It is thus apparent that Paul means to undermine neither the value of literal circumcision nor genealogical descent for Jews, nor the impulse to teach those from the nations the words of God, yet he recognizes that these could be inferred from his argument, so he directly denies that they should be. That the question is raised about “them” (not “us” non-Jews) indicates that Paul did not anticipate the later interpretive tradition’s deduction that his argument in 2:29 meant that these non-Jews had become in fact Jews in some way, often labeled “spiritual” or “true” or “real” or “reconfigured Jews,” or that they had replaced ethnic Jews and the rite of circumcision in the flesh, rendering the literal Jews and circumcision superfluous. The way that the argument proceeds demonstrates that being a Jew and being circumcised remain literally of value for Jews, which sets them apart, as Jews, to be especially entrusted with God’s words among the nations. What Paul has found fault with is the failure “if” one so identified is inclined to speak to the nations but not concomitantly dedicated to live according to the ideals to which that person’s teaching points, but instead behaves contrary to that teaching.

Within this contextual frame, we can return to examine Paul’s argument in 2:25–29. The translation suggestions, including the explanatory phrases inserted, assume that Paul is still addressing the hypothetical one who would publicly declare himself (or: be declared) to be a Jew who teaches nonJews without first of all intentionally observing that which he teaches them.

In verse 25, Paul writes: “For indeed circumcision is valuable (or: helpful) if you would be observing Torah, but if you would be one who [is circumcised yet intentionally] sidesteps Torah, then your circumcision has become [of no more value than if you still had] foreskin.”40 The translation proposed does not differ much from that offered in the NRSV. The changes bring out the conditional element present in the verbs, in keeping with the hypothetical person constructed for the diatribe to do its inductive teaching. The phrases inserted seek to capture the thoughts between the lines. It is one who is circumcised that is in view if they would not live according to Torah, to which circumcised identity sets them apart from those of the other nations, who are not under Torah. Paul is playing circumcised and foreskinned identities against each other here; circumcised identity is only of value if the one so marked as set 40

Περιτομὴ μὲν γὰρ ὠφελεῖ ἐὰν νόμον πράσσῃς· ἐὰν δὲ παραβάτης νόμου ᾖς, ἡ περιτομή σου

ἀκροβυστία γέγονεν. NRSV: “Circumcision indeed is of value if you obey the law; but if you

break the law, your circumcision has become uncircumcision.”

Nanos, Paul’s Non-Jews 45

apart to God actually seeks to behave accordingly; otherwise, such a one is no different from the rest of humankind.41 The implied value is that by definition those who are circumcised should be different, set apart to behave according to the Guidelines (Torah) God has given to the people of the covenant God made with Israel that circumcision signifies. The value of circumcising flesh is not intrinsic but imputed, it is the value of setting apart one’s (usually, one’s male child’s) body, and thus whole being, to God, thereafter procreating within the family that God has chosen to bring blessing to all humankind. This is an argument with which any circumcised Jew, much less one proposing to enlighten non-Jews to the ideals of Jewish identity and Torah-defined behavior, would be expected to agree.42 The one Paul describes here could be labeled “an un-Jewish-like Jew.” In verse 26, Paul turns the point around: “Therefore, if the foreskinned one protects the righteous requirements of Torah, will his foreskin not be valued as [equivalent to] circumcision?”43 Paul works from the propositional premise that the requirements/claims/judgments of Torah are righteous/just (δικαιώματα: a detail that the NRSV translation “requirements” fails to communicate). Thus one who would seek to “watch out” that these are kept (hence: protect/guard/keep) would in effect be behaving as the circumcised should by definition behave. Circumcision sets the covenant people apart to God’s Guidance; it is thereafter their covenant obligation to protect it by living

41

Paul’s argument is not against this hypothetical Jew supposing that being circumcised “saves” him, as commentators regularly assert (e.g., C. E. B. Cranfield, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans [ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1975], 1.172), and moreover, the supposed error of “complacent reliance upon circumcision” hardly makes sense of the effort attributed to this hypothetical teacher; it is not an issue for the fictive Jew, or for Jews and Judaism generally, unlike for later Christian interpreters.

42 Daniel Boyarin, A Radical Jew: Paul and the Politics of Identity (Contraversions 1; Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 86–95, makes the same point—that Jews would have generally agreed with these values—although he follows Dunn in supposing that Paul is actually seeking to attack Jews who rely upon being Jews apart from proper actions, rather than that this is a fictive example Paul creates in order to show non-Jews what it would be like if they would not turn their focus to doing what is now right and leave justice up to God. Like most Pauline scholars, Boyarin understands Paul to be universalizing Jewish identity in verse 29, applying it to non-Jews as well.

43

ἐὰν οὖν ἡ ἀκροβυστία τὰ δικαιώματα τοῦ νόμου φυλάσσῃ, οὐχ ἡ ἀκροβυστία αὐτοῦ εἰς περιτομὴν

λογισθήσεται; NRSV: “So, if those who are uncircumcised keep the requirements of the law,

will not their uncircumcision be regarded as circumcision?”

46 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

accordingly. Within the contrast being developed, as well as the rest of the letter and Paul’s arguments against Christ-following non-Jews undertaking literal circumcision, it is illogical to suppose that Paul means that the non-Jew actually becomes circumcised. He has in view how his body is “valued/regarded [λογισθήσεται]” similarly, that it is dedicated to doing God’s will in the way that the person with a circumcised body should be.44 When such righteous concern to live in genuine faithfulness to God rather than hypocrisy is demonstrated by a non-Jew it represents the equivalent of acting like a Jew should—protecting the righteous ideal of Torah-defined behavior for the circumcised—and, indeed, it represents how all humans should behave. Paul appeals to the theoretical “jewish-like non-Jew” in contrast to the theoretical “un-Jewish-like Jew” of the previous verse.45 Verse 27 draws out an inference from the previous two verses: “And the one foreskinned from birth [i.e., the non-Jew] yet fulfilling Torah will judge you who through [or: notwithstanding (having)] letter and circumcision [or: literal circumcision] sidestep Torah.”46 It is unclear if Paul meant to appeal to the attendant circumstances of having these gifts yet disregarding the help or value they offered (“notwithstanding/in spite of [having]”),47 and also whether he meant to indicate the hendiadys, “literal circumcision,”48 or two different elements, “letter” and “circumcision.” By adding letter to circumcision he might be simply indicating the additional possession of Scripture or Torah. Paul could be implying the exploitation of these gifts (if διὰ is understood as causative: “by means of”), but the fictive Jew has been theoretically guilty of failing to act in keeping with what their knowledge of Scripture and marking as one set apart to God should guard above all, whereas if one not circumcised and without Torah 44 This is a scriptural value among the literally circumcised Israelites and later Jews to which Paul’s argument appeals (Deut 10:16; 30:6; Jer 4:4; 9:25–26; 38:33; Ezek 44:7; 1QS 5.5; Philo, Spec. Laws 1.6; QG 3.46–52).

45 Cf. Sifra 86b: “Also a Gentile, if he practices the Torah, is equal to the High Priest”; such rhetoric, like Paul’s, is not proposing that he becomes the High Priest, but is reckoned/valued as if equivalent in standing. Consider too that one might refer to someone exemplifying American values as more American than (some) Americans, without thereby inferring that they have thus become Americans (having U.S. citizenship).

46

καὶ κρινεῖ ἡ ἐκ φύσεως ἀκροβυστία τὸν νόμον τελοῦσα σὲ τὸν διὰ γράμματος καὶ περιτομῆς

παραβάτην νόμου. NRSV: “Then those who are physically uncircumcised but keep the law

will condemn you that have the written code and circumcision but break the law.”

47 Jewett, Romans, 234, approvingly notes many commentators who choose this option.

48 Cranfield, Romans, 1.174, recognizes this option.

Nanos, Paul’s Non-Jews 47

to guide them actually behaved in a manner that did protect the righteous aims of Torah, that one would naturally stand in judgment of such a Jew. The entire chapter has censured judging of others, so it seems that Paul means here that their behavior will naturally stand as a witness against the behavior of the other, rather than that he is endorsing judging them, or even the impulse to want to judge them at some future time. Paul’s approach veers close to playing on the temptation to envy (begrudge); in this case, to enjoy the fall of one’s social superiors, giving one the sense of increased self-worth at the expense of the other’s experience of being brought down (leveled). It is obvious from the way that criticisms of Jews and Judaism are indulged in the commentary tradition on this passage—often building implicitly when not explicitly on the trope of the self-righteous Pharisee, although apparently without recognizing that commentators themselves are probably “guilty” of seeking to practice the right way to please God—that Paul’s approach is a dangerous one. In spite of the impulse to judge that Paul’s argument has fueled for many commentators, it seems more likely that his conscious goal for this rhetorical gambit was not to encourage his audience to embrace the role of judging (which is so contrary to the message of 2:1 and the chapter overall), but to convince them to recoil from behaving in a similar way themselves (i.e., to judge themselves). Whatever the case might be, Paul argues that a non-Jew behaving jewishly (“a jewish nonJew”) would logically represent the righteous judgment (by God) of a Jew who did not behave jewishly (“a non-Jewish Jew”) in spite of having the help of Scripture and circumcision (or: in spite of being literally circumcised).

In verses 28–29 Paul completes this thought in the argument: “For the Jew is not [seeking validation] in the public acknowledgement49 [i.e., calling himself or being called the Jew], nor is [the validation by] circumcision in the visible display in the flesh,50 But the Jew [is validated] in that which is concealed,51 even as circumcision of heart is in spirit not letter [or: literal (in

49 50

Cf. Bultmann/Lürhmann, “φανερος,” TDNT 9.2.

οὐ γὰρ ὁ ἐν τῷ φανερῷ Ἰουδαῖός ἐστιν οὐδὲ ἡ ἐν τῷ φανερῷ ἐν σαρκὶ περιτομή; NRSV: “For a person is not a Jew who is one outwardly, nor is true circumcision something external and physical.” Note that “true” is not in the manuscripts.

51 Paul uses κρυπτός, an adjective usually referring to something “concealed,” hidden behind that which is seen (such as results when a rock is rolled over a cave opening), that which is behind the façade. Paul is probably seeking to contrast the public/visible credentials (of the Jew who teaches non-Jews) and that which remains impossible to see even in visible behavior (whether that Jew seeks to exemplify the values to which those credentials point).

48 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

flesh)]; the praise [valued] is not from humans, but from God.”52 The prevailing translations and interpretations of this passage proceed from the conviction that Paul devalues Jewish ethnic identity and the ritual of circumcision (as well as Jewish ritual identity and behavior overall, and Judaism). They give the reader the impression that Paul is here calling for inward spirituality and attributing both the identity “Jew” and the mark of circumcision, when idealized in spiritual terms, to Christ-followers in general, and non-Jews who follow Christ in particular (i.e., to “Christians” as the “real” or “true” or “spiritual Jews”), while also denying that they any longer belong to Jews (since they are deemed to be like the fictive Jewish hypocrite by definition if they have not become Christfollowers, and thus without circumcised hearts, faith, or spirituality, etc.). It is obviously possible to translate and interpret the passage in these ways, but that does not sit well with the message of the passages within which it is embedded.

Moreover, if Paul continued to value his Jewish identity and Jewish behavior, and if he presumed his audiences to know that, then such choices are unwarranted.

I have made several suggestions for the literal components here to try to capture what seems to be the spirit of the message. Based upon the preceding concern with what is valued, which is precisely what the question following in 3:1 poses as well, it seems appropriate to read this terse summary statement as an affirmation of what the one who is in fact a Jew ethnically by descent and circumcised in the flesh—which are indicated by reference to “letter/literal”— should be expected to value. He wants to be recognized by the conduct of his life, “of heart in/by spirit,” that is, motivated by faithful service to God and neighbor, per Torah, with God’s assistance. The jewishness a Jew values is the praise of God for a job faithfully performed rather than the accolades of fellow humans, particularly if gained, as Paul qualifies the alternatives here (although, obviously, they do not need to be bifurcated into contrary indicators), by gaming the system. The argument has not been to strip the literal (identity/ behavior/teaching) of Jews of their value, but to affirm that their value for a Jew is in that which they signify, a heart and thus actions set apart to God and the best interests of one’s neighbors, just as Torah describes what ought to occupy those in the covenants made with the fathers; these are the ideals of jewishness.

This is the ideal Jew who is teaching those from the nations because of his

52

ἀλλ ᾿ ὁ ἐν τῷ κρυπτῷ Ἰουδαῖος, καὶ περιτομὴ καρδίας ἐν πνεύματι οὐ γράμματι, οὗ ὁ ἔπαινος οὐκ ἐξ

ἀνθρώπων ἀλλ ᾿ ἐκ τοῦ θεοῦ. NRSV: “Rather, a person is a Jew who is one inwardly, and real

circumcision is a matter of the heart—it is spiritual and not literal. Such a person receives praise not from others but from God.” Note that “real” is not in the manuscripts.

Nanos, Paul’s Non-Jews 49

dedication to God’s words, which have been entrusted to him; he first of all seeks to obey them faithfully, in contrast to the atypical hypothetical Jew who theoretically would teach those from the nations but not practice what he preaches. Verses 25–29 champion the ideal of faithful service for empirical Jews in contrast to the fictive, uncharacteristic hypocritical Jew portrayed in verses 17–24. It makes little sense to suppose that Paul is thus seeking to inform nonJews that they are instead the ideal Jews, or circumcised in heart in contrast to Jews who are circumcised in flesh. One must be circumcised in flesh to be a Jew, and circumcised also in heart to represent the jewishness that being a Jew signifies, or should.53 Paul is appealing to a well-know trope in Greek and Roman as well as Jewish cultures, the difference between legal credentials and the spirit of the ideals to which those credentials should point. What I have tried to bring out is how this passage can be read to affirm the value of jewishness being raised for the audience of non-Jews, to whom Paul writes a letter to encourage dedication to “obedience of faithfulness.” The entire argument is about this Jewish ideal versus the example of a theoretically hypocritical (a-stereotypical!) Jewish teacher. Thus it makes sense for Paul to conclude that the ideal Jew is the ethnic Jew who understands the real purpose of the visible signs of being the historical people of God and teacher among the nations. The contrast is not between the outward and inward per se, but about the motive for undertaking the outward behavior, based upon the conviction that the one who undertakes to teach others these actions should conduct himself according to that which is taught as a matter of dedication to God, not simply the fulfilling of an office without the spirit of seeking to do so in order to serve the neighbor sincerely. One behaving from such motivation wins approval from God even if the neighbor might remain unaware of the level of dedication such service requires.54 The argument can be read as an expression of Judaism’s concern with faithful action rather than as a call to faith or an inner life or spirituality in contrast to action or service, with the latter negatively valued as representing merely the outward, 53

Cf. Joseph A. Fitzmyer, Romans: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (New York, et al.: Doubleday, 1993), 323: “the real Jew is an Israelite with a circumcised heart.”

54 This is attested among non-Jew philosophers too: e.g., Epictetus, Diss. 4.8.17–20: “. . . whatever I did well, I did so, not on account of the spectators, but on my own account . . . it was for myself and for God. . . . And what harm was there in having the philosopher that I was, recognized by what I did, rather than by outward signs?” Note that here too the outward actions express the unseen intentions, but are distinguished from outward credentials per se. See Stowers, Rereading of Romans, 146–49, for additional examples.

50 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

ritualistic, carnal, and so on. Paul is thus trying to portray the jewishness of the Jew so that the non-Jews will internalize this ideal for themselves, becoming non-Jews who exemplify jewishness although remaining non-Jews.

Paul’s argument is constructed to encourage non-Jews to avoid making the same mistake they are quick to recognize in this diatribal caricature. Paul calls them to concentrate on being faithful to what they are responsible to do in service of instead of judgment toward the other, including toward the one who may be judging them to be making inappropriate claims to have joined the righteous ones of God apart from becoming Jews, and if males, apart from completing the rite of circumcision. That is a marker for Jews, not for non-Jews.

But the ideals for which it stands—belonging to God and serving the other, leaving judgment of others to the God to which one belongs—should inspire and restrain everyone equally, whether Jew or non-Jew. Paul’s next point arises from making just that case about equal responsibility: this does not abrogate difference and therefore nullify that there are some different advantages and responsibilities for Jews than there are for non-Jews, even those who belong to God through Christ. But the general principle remains nevertheless true, that each is fully responsible to be completely devoted to that to which each is called, to behave “genuinely,” intentionally (from the heart) with their whole being (with their bodily behavior) both toward God and all others, at all times, convinced that God is aware, just, and merciful toward all, just as one hopes God is toward oneself.

Read this way, Rom 2 helps us to see that Paul wrote this letter to call Christ-following non-Jews to behave jewishly, to strive for the ideals of jewishness, to faithfully practice Judaism (as Christ-following non-Jews). They were, from Paul’s perspective, jewish non-Jews. Likewise, their groups were most likely seen by their peers as Jewish, at least Jewish-like, as behaving jewishly in ways associated with Jews and Judaism and jewishness. In fact, Paul’s arguments assume that they were non-Jews who gathered with Jews who shared their convictions about Jesus within the auspices of the larger Jewish community and gatherings, where many Jews and guests who were non-Jews did not understand or share those convictions.55 They assembled in what might best be referred to as Jesus or Christ-following Jewish subgroups rather than Gentile churches. Hence, we would be closer to the historical context to refer to Paul’s Jewish subgroups or

55

Mark D. Nanos, “The Jewish Context of the Gentile Audience Addressed in Paul’s Letter to the Romans,” CBQ 61 (1999): 283–304; idem, “To the Churches within the Synagogues of Rome,” in Reading Paul’s Letter to the Romans, ed. Jerry L. Sumney (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2012), 11–28.

Nanos, Paul’s Non-Jews 51

Paul’s Jewish assemblies. When seeking to refer specifically to the non-Jews therein, who were the target of Paul’s extant rhetorical addresses, it would be useful to refer to the non-Jews of the Christ-following Jewish gatherings or subgroups.

Conclusion What some Christians today refer to as “the Christian thing to do,” we see Paul in Rom 2 instead still calling “the Jewish thing to do.” In contrast to Käsemann’s negative valuation of Christians discovering “the hidden Jew” within themselves, which for him represents the temptation “to validate rights and demands over against God,”56 Paul was exhorting non-Jews turning to God in Christ to seek to discover within themselves the noble values of jewishness, what being a Jew ideally signifies. They should learn to internalize jewishness as the highest value for themselves, albeit remaining non-Jews because of the propositional claims of the gospel that members from the nations, which they represent, are now turning to the One God of the Jews, as expected at the arrival of the age to come.

Just as a Jew knows (or should know) that the highest value of the circumcised body is that it signifies being set apart to God, who by spirit circumcises the heart of the faithful, so too these non-Jews should dedicate their bodies and hearts to faithful service to God, even though the circumcision of body—and thus the circumcision of heart57—does not apply (literally, and thus figuratively) to themselves.

Paul’s opposition to these non-Jews undertaking proselyte conversion to become Jews ethnically (circumcision signifying the completion of that ethnic “conversion” rite) should not be mistaken as opposition to these non-Jews beginning to observe Judaism, which he actually promotes. His letters consist precisely of instruction in the Jewish way of life for non-Jews who turn to Israel’s God as the One God of all the nations; he enculturates them into God’s Guidance (Torah) without bringing them under Torah technically, since they do not become Jews/Israel. They are non-Jews who are learning, by way of Paul’s instructions, to practice Judaism!

56

Ernst Käsemann, “Paul and Israel,” in New Testament Questions of Today (Translated

by W. J. Montague, The New Testament Library; Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1969), 186; see discussion in Daniel Boyarin, A Radical Jew, 209–14.

57 The idea of cutting off part of the heart is itself strange if taken literally, and apart from the literal act of circumcision continuing to be practiced, does not seem to be a useful way to conceptualize the dedication of those who are not circumcised in body (which women have no doubt long recognized).

52 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

I have argued that it is logical and relevant to speak of Paul’s jewish non-Jews, just as it seemed appropriate to describe some of the non-Jews about whom Josephus wrote as jewish non-Jews in distinction from other non-Jews, such as Izates. He was a non-Jew who adopted some Jewish practices in the earliest part of the narrative but eventually undertook circumcision in obedience to Torah’s commandment for those who seek to be faithful to Israel’s God (as interpreted by Eleazar), which changed him into a Jew. Moreover, Josephus represents this step approvingly as an expression of faithfulness alone, at the same time acknowledging that there are other interpretations of what represents faithfulness for a non-Jew, given certain particular considerations. Developing this kind of specificity for discussing Paul and his communities is important if we are to avoid the long-standing tradition of referring to Paul’s audiences and others within these movements as Christians and Christian Gentiles or Gentile Christians, among other advantages, such as advancing the discussion of the different views on virtually any topic that arose between Jews and Jewish groups (including Paul and his groups) without supposing that any group was seeking to express something other than faithfulness to God within Judaism and thus according to Torah, variously interpreted. Nevertheless, applying the terms “Jewish” and “Judaism” and various other cognates to non-Jews can create a new set of problems, since these are generally reserved for describing Jews and the behavior of Jews. This strategy, therefore, could create confusion instead of introducing defamiliarization that informs, helping us to think, ask questions, and pursue historical accuracy in new ways. The use of the lowercase “j” is thus suggested, for example, to help raise awareness that the phenomenon is not best imagined as “Christian” in contrast to “Jewish,” and also to reflect that these non-Jews have not become Jews.

I do not have similar reservations about referring to “Jewish communities/assemblies,” “subgroups within the Jewish communities,” or “subgroup assemblies of the synagogues” to describe the groups to which Paul wrote, and besides Romans, for the groups that he founded. Again, just as was the case for discussing the groups of non-Jews about whom Josephus wrote, these descriptive phrases represent the communal situations of the non-Jews Paul addressed better than the anachronistic paradigm perpetuated in phrases like “Paul’s Christian churches” or even “Paul’s Gentile churches/assemblies,” and so on, which continue to characterize discussions even when it is explicitly recognized that this was not yet Christianity but a nascent movement within Judaism. This change in terminology can help facilitate the development of new approaches to familiar texts in ways more likely to discover and represent their

Nanos, Paul’s Non-Jews 53

original meaning, for the author and his audiences, within Greco-Roman Judaism.

From Paul’s perspective, Christ-following non-Jews were not to become Jews, and Rom 2:25–29 does not indicate that Paul wanted them to believe that they became Jews in some alternative sense because of their faith in Jesus. Yet they had been brought into the practice of Judaism, the way of life developed by and for Jews, which was taking place within Jewish subgroups formed around the conviction that Jesus was the awaited Messiah, just as was the case in the groups that Paul founded. It was precisely as non-Jews that they were to learn to live in the ways that being a Jew exemplified—or should exemplify, because God established this special identity in the service of reconciling all humankind to the Creator. In order to demonstrate the chronometrical-based propositional truth claims of these groups—that the awaited age had dawned within the midst of the present age through the resurrection of Christ—these non-Jews were to be “jewish” (“jewish-like” or “jewishish”) non-Jews; they were to behave “jewishly,” to exemplify “jewishness,” to practice “Judaism.” Paul’s bold reminder and intended trip to Rome were designed to “establish” their understanding of “obedient faithfulness” within this cultural milieu (Rom 1:5, 11–12).

www.jjmjs.org

Shared Interpretive Traditions of Joseph’s ‘swfrosu/nh’ and ‘Silence’ in De Iosepho and the Testament of Joseph Dieter Roth Johannes Gutenberg University, Mainz | dieter.roth@uni-mainz.de JJMJS No. 1 (2014): 54–68

Introduction Anyone who ventures into the writings of Philo is immediately struck by the sheer quantity of material that has come down to us from the pen of this ancient writer.1 In the broadest classification, Philo’s works contain writings dealing with biblical, philosophical, and historical-apologetic themes; however, in this article it is a biblically-themed work, De Iosepho, that is of particular interest.2 The purpose in considering this treatise is not to gain insight into Philo’s interpretive methodology or purposes in writing about Joseph more broadly,3 1

Philo lived from ca. 20 B.C.E. to 50 C.E., which means that his literary output overlaps with the beginnings of Christianity. The little that is known about him is extrapolated from his own writings and the comments of Josephus (Ant. 18.159–160). Due to the massive number of extant treatises of Philo and the relative paucity of other source material from this era, David Runia has offered the image of Philo’s works as a solitary skyscraper massively looming over other structures (see “How to Read Philo,” NedTT 40 [1986]: 185; repr. in Exegesis and Philosophy: Studies on Philo of Alexandria [Hampshire: Variorum, 1990], 19).

2 For an overview of Philo and his works see especially Peder Borgen, Philo of Alexandria: An Exegete for his Time (NovTSup 86. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1997); idem, “Philo of Alexandria” in Jewish Writings of the Second Temple Period: Apocrypha, Pseudepigrapha, Qumran Sectarian Writings, Philo, Josephus (ed. Michael E. Stone; CRINT 2/2; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1984), 233–82; Erwin R. Goodenough, An Introduction to Philo Judaeus (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1940); Samuel Sandmel, Philo of Alexandria: An Introduction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1979); and Emil Schürer, The History of the Jewish People in the Age of Jesus Christ (175 B.C.–A.D. 135) (rev. and ed. G. Vermes, F. Millar and M. Goodman; 3 vols.; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1973–1987), 3:809–90.

3 For discussions concerning Philo’s method of interpretation see, e.g., Yehoshua Amir, “Authority and Interpretation of Scripture in the Writings of Philo,” in Mikra: Text,

Roth, Shared Interpretive Traditions 55

nor is it to discuss the manner in which Philo’s presentation of the patriarch in this treatise seems to be quite different from his presentation of Joseph in De Somniis II,4 even though these issues are important and interesting. Rather, the point of the present study is to consider the way in which Philo shares common interpretative traditions regarding Joseph with the Testament of Joseph (hereafter T. Jos.), a text read and utilized by early Christian communities.5 In particular, Translation, Reading & Interpretation of the Hebrew Bible in Ancient Judaism & Early Christianity (ed. M. Mulder; CRINT 2/1; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1984; repr., Peabody: Hendrickson, 2004), 421–53; idem, Die hellenistische Gestalt des Judentums bei Philo von Alexandrien (Forschungen zum jüdisch-christlichen Dialog; Neukirchen: Neukirchner Verlag, 1983); Francesca Calabi, The Language and the Law of God: Interpretation and Politics in Philo of Alexandria (South Florida Studies in the History of Judaism; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1998); Irmgard Christiansen, Die Technik der allegorischen Auslegungswissenschaft bei Philon von Alexandrien (Beiträge zur Geschichte der Biblischen Hermeneutik 7; Tübingen: Mohr [Siebeck], 1969); Maren Niehoff, The Figure of Joseph in Post-Biblical Jewish Literature (AGJU 16; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1992), 54–83; Valentin Nikiprowetzky, Le Commentaire de l’Écriture chez Philon d’Alexandrie (ALGHJ 11; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1977); Christian Noack, Gottesbewußtsein: Exegetische Studien zur Soteriologie und Mystik bei Philo von Alexandria (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000); and Eckart Reinmuth, “Wunderbare Geburten: Zur Allegorese biblischer Erzählinhalte bei Philo von Alexandrien,” in Frühjudentum und Neues Testament im Horizont Biblischer Theologie (ed. Wolfgang Kraus und Karl-Wilhelm Niebuhr; WUNT 162; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 80–95.

4 The fact that De Iosepho presents a predominantly positive picture of Joseph whereas De Somniis II presents a primarily negative one has often been discussed in the scholarly literature. See, e.g., Jouette M. Bassler, “Philo on Joseph: The Basic Coherence of De Iosepho and De Somniis ii,” JSJ 16 (1986): 240–55; Jacques Cazeaux, “Nul n’est Prophète en son Pays: Contribution à l’Étude de Joseph d’après Philon,” in The School of Moses: Studies in Philo and Hellenistic Religion (ed. John Peter Kenny; Studia Philonica Monographs 1; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995), 41–81; Erwin R. Goodenough, The Politics of Philo Judaeus: Practice and Theory (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1938); and Earle Hilgert, “The Dual Image of Joseph in Hebrew and Early Jewish Literature,” in Papers of the Chicago Society of Biblical Research, vol. 30 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985), 5–21.

5 There is considerable debate concerning whether the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, of which T. Jos. is a part, is a Jewish writing interpolated by a Christian, an Essene writing with a few Christian interpolations, or a Christian writing drawing on Jewish sources. Though this issue is not unimportant, it is clear that in its final form the Testaments have distinctly Christian passages revealing the interest in and use of the text by early Christian communities. For discussion and bibliography on the issue see J. J. Collins, “Testaments,” in Jewish Writings of the Second Temple Period: Apocrypha,

56 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

this article will consider Joseph’s swfrosu/nh (“soundness of mind,” “selfcontrol,” or “chastity”)6 and his keeping silent about the misdeeds of others in De Iosepho and T. Jos. in order to highlight the shared interpretive context of Joseph traditions utilized in Second Temple Judaism and early Christianity. In the present examination I will seek to build on previous discussions of these interpretive traditions,7 and in the conclusion briefly comment on the importance of understanding Second Temple traditions as one of the historical contexts for interpretations of Joseph found in early Christianity.

Joseph’s swfrosu/nh The Use of the Term swfrosu/nh An important initial observation, demonstrated in the sections below, is that in both Philo and T. Jos. the issue of Joseph’s swfrosu/nh is directly connected to his confrontation with Potiphar’s wife.8 Interestingly, however, the LXX account Pseudepigrapha, Qumran Sectarian Writings, Philo, Josephus (ed. Michael E. Stone; CRINT 2/2; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1984), 342–43. See also 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 (SVTP 18; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2003), 71–83 and his important observation on p. 82: “We shall have to admit that there is much that we do not know, and will perhaps never know, about the previous history of the Testaments. What we can and should do, however, is to take them seriously in their present Christian form.”

6 For a full discussion of this term in Greek literature see Helen North, Sophrosyne: SelfKnowledge and Self-Restraint in Greek Literature (Cornell Studies in Classical Philology 35; Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1966).

7 See, e.g., Daniel J. Harrington, “Joseph in the Testament of Joseph, Pseudo-Philo, and Philo,” in Studies in the Testament of Joseph (ed. G. W. E. Nickelsburg; SBLSCS 5; Missoula: Scholars Press, 1975), 127–31; Harm W. Hollander, “The Ethical Character of the Patriarch Joseph,” in Studies in the Testament of Joseph (ed. G. W. E. Nickelsburg; SBLSCS 5; Missoula: Scholars Press, 1975), 64–65, 68–72; idem, Joseph as an Ethical Model in the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs (SVTP 6; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1981), 38– 39, 42–47; and idem, “The Portrayal of Joseph in Hellenistic Jewish and Early Christian Literature,” in Biblical Figures Outside the Bible (ed. Michael E. Stone and Theodore A. Bergern; Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 1998), 237–63.

8 Cf. Hollander, “Joseph in Hellenistic Jewish and Early Christian Literature,” 241: “In literary contexts where Joseph’s encounter with Potiphar’s wife is at issue, one virtue comes to the fore: Joseph’s ‘temperance’ or ‘chastity’ (swfrosu/nh).” James L. Kugel observes that “for various reasons, the encounter of Joseph and Potiphar’s wife eventually came to be seen by ancient interpreters as the central episode of his life [emphasis original]” (Traditions of the Bible [Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1998], 442; see

Roth, Shared Interpretive Traditions 57

of this confrontation (Gen 39:7–12) never utilizes this term. Even when considering the entire Joseph story as recorded in Gen 37–50 of the LXX, the term cannot be found. Indeed, the word does not appear anywhere in the LXX other than in the Apocrypha, though, significantly, it is applied to Joseph in 4 Maccabees.9 In the NT it appears in only three places,10 and only in the two occurrences in 1 Timothy is it used to describe a character trait.11 Given the relative paucity of the term, it is notable that this quality of Joseph’s character is of such paramount importance for Philo and the author of T. Jos.12 Joseph’s swfrosu/nh in De Iosepho In Ios. 40 Philo tells the reader that Potiphar’s wife, driven to madness because of the beauty of Joseph and without restraint in the frenzy of her passion, “made proposals of intercourse to him which he stoutly resisted and utterly refused to accept, so strong was the sense of decency and temperance [swfrosu/nhn] which nature and the exercise of control had implanted in him.”13 Joseph goes on to make a lengthy speech in which he extols the sexual chastity of the Hebrews and states, “To this day I have remained pure, and I will not take the first step in transgression by committing adultery, the greatest of crimes” (Ios. 44). also Kugel’s comments in In Potiphar’s House: The Interpretive Life of Biblical Texts [San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1990], 22–26). It is worth noting, however, that in Acts 7 and Heb 11 the NT does not mention Joseph’s encounter with Potiphar’s wife when discussing this patriarch.

9 There are three occurrences of the term in the Apocrypha, namely, Add Esth B:3, 2 Macc 4:37, and Wis 8:7. It figures prominently in 4 Macc where the term appears in 4 Macc 1:3, 6, 18, 30, 31; 5:23. The adjective swfrwn is used in 4 Macc 2:2 in a description of Joseph, and also appears in 4 Macc 1:35; 2:16, 18, 23; 3:17, 19; 15:10. It is this 4 Macc 2:2 passage that Hollander has in mind when he refers to swfrosu/nh as “a motif that is traditionally connected with Joseph” (Joseph as an Ethical Model, 38; cf. idem, “Joseph in Hellenistic Jewish and Early Christian Literature,” 241). References that Joseph restrained from committing sin (Wis 10:13–14) or kept the commandment (1 Macc 2:53) may also refer to this virtue though without specifically using the term swfrosu/nh.

10 Acts 26:25 and 1 Tim 2:9, 15. The adjective swfrwn is used in 1 Tim 3:2 and Titus 1:8; 2:2, 5.

11 In Acts 26 it is used to describe the “rational” nature of Paul’s words to Festus.

12 Though these two texts, and the interpretive traditions found therein, are of primary concern here, there are, of course, other texts that also highlight Joseph’s swfrosu/nh in extended discussions. Cf., e.g., Josephus, Ant. 2.39–59 and the reference in Jos. Asen. 4:9.

13 The Greek text and translation here and throughout is that of Philo: Volume VI: On Abraham, On Joseph, On Moses (trans. F. H. Colson; LCL 289; Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1935).

58 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

Furthermore, giving in to the advances of Potiphar’s wife would not only be adultery, but would be adultery with his master’s wife, and Joseph says that he is “called on to honour him not only as a master but further as a benefactor” (Ios. 46). Joseph, in no uncertain terms, protests even the thought of committing a sin that would be the “greatest crime” of adultery and a violation of his master’s honor.

Having introduced the idea of Joseph’s swfrosu/nh in the encounter with Potiphar’s wife, Philo mentions this virtue twice more in De Iosepho. First, in the allegorical interpretation of Joseph’s actions as related to the statesman,14 Philo writes, “If the results of licentiousness are civil strife and war, and ill upon ill without number, clearly the results of continence [swfrosu/nhj] are stability and peace and the acquisition and enjoyment of perfect blessing” (Ios. 57).

Second, having returned to the retelling of the narrative of Genesis, Philo writes that Joseph, while in jail, by setting before them his life of temperance [swfrosu/nhj] and every virtue, like an original picture of skilled workmanship, he converted even those who seemed to be quite incurable, who as long-standing distempers of their soul abated reproached themselves for their past and repented with such utterances as these: “Ah, where in old days was this great blessing which at first we failed to find? See, when it shines on us we behold as in a mirror our misbehaviour and are ashamed.” (Ios. 87) Notice particularly that Philo specifically mentions swfrosu/nh and then merely groups together all the other virtues displayed by Joseph. Clearly, it is the concept of self-control that has gripped Philo’s mind as one of the predominant characteristics of Joseph.

14

Philo views the account of Joseph as being an account of the statesman (Ios. 1), and therefore the allegorical sections of De Iosepho relate to the life of a statesman/politician.

In Ios. 28–36 Philo argues that Joseph was well-suited to be a politician because his name means “addition of the Lord” just as the political structure of states is something added to the law of nature. For discussion of the meaning of this phrase, see Valentin Nikiprowetzky, “KURIOU PROSQESIS: Note Critique sur Philon d’Alexandrie, De Iosepho, 28,” REJ 127 (1968): 387–92.

Roth, Shared Interpretive Traditions 59

Joseph’s swfrosu/nh in T. Jos. In the first section of T. Jos. (1:1–10:4), the author depicts Joseph’s struggle to avoid being seduced by Potiphar’s wife.15 Here again one finds a strong emphasis on Joseph’s self-control in the face of temptation.16 In T. Jos. 4:1–2 Joseph recounts, How often, then did she flatter me with words as a holy man, deceitfully praising my self-control [swfrosu/nhn] through her words in the presence of her husband, but when we were alone she sought to seduce me. Publicly she honored me for my selfcontrol [sw/frona], while privately she said to me, “Have no fear of my husband, for he is convinced of your chastity [swfrosu/nhj] so that even if someone were to tell him about you, he would not believe it.”17 When Potiphar’s wife tries to seduce him by “food mixed with enchantments” (T. Jos. 6:1), Joseph rebukes her saying, “In order for you to learn that the evil of the irreligious will not triumph over those who exercise self-control [swfrosu/nh|] in their worship of God, I will take this and eat it in your presence” 15

It is generally recognized that T. Jos. utilizes two separate sources in describing the life of Joseph, though whether the sources were brought together by a single redactor or reveal the presence of more than one stage of composition has been debated in the scholarly literature. Once again, the issue does not affect the present study’s focus on the text in its final form. A brief overview of the different views and those advocating them can be found in H. Dixon Singerland, “The Testament of Joseph: A Redaction-Critical Study,” JBL 96 (1977): 507–8.

16 The character trait is so prominent in T. Jos. that, as Hollander and de Jonge observe, “It is not surprising therefore that T.Jos. received the title peri\ swfrosu/nhj in bldmef [manuscripts of the text]” (The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs: A Commentary [SVTP 8; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1985], 364). Though the other testaments in The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs will not be discussed here, George W. E. Nickelsburg has rightly commented that the figure of Joseph “is also prominent throughout the Testaments as an example of virtue and the avoidance of vice” (Jewish Literature Between the Bible and the Mishnah [Philadelphia: Fortress, 1981], 233). Hollander similarly notes, “For the author of the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, it is Joseph above all who represents the ideal of moral behavior” (“The Portrayal of Joseph in Hellenistic Jewish and Early Christian Literature,” 254–55).

17 The English translation here and throughout is that of H. C. Kee, OTP 1:819–25. For the Greek text see M. de Jonge, The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs: A Critical Edition of the Greek Text (PVTG 1; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1978).

60 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

(T. Jos. 6:7). He then prays, eats, and remains unaffected. While in prison, Joseph recalls, Many times she sent messages to me saying, “Acquiesce in fulfilling my desire, and I will release you from the fetters and liberate you from the darkness.” Not even in my mind did I yield to her, for God loves more the one who is faithful in selfcontrol [swfrosu/nh|] in a dark cistern than the one who in royal chambers feast on delicacies with excess. If a man strives from self-control [swfrosu/nh|] and at the same time desires glory—and the Most High knows that it is appropriate for him—he brings it about for him, even as he did for me. (T. Jos. 9:1–3) Finally, when it comes time to exhort his children concerning the lessons learned from these experiences, Joseph admonishes them with the words, So you see, my children, how great are the things that patience and prayer with fasting accomplish. You also, if you pursue self-control [swfrosu/nhn] and purity with patience and prayer with fasting in humility of heart, the Lord will dwell among you, because he loves self-control [swfrosu/nhn]. And where the Most High dwells, even if envy befall someone, or slavery of false accusation, the Lord who dwells with him on account of his self-control [swfrosu/nhn] not only will rescue him from these evils, but will exalt him and glorify him and he did for me. (T. Jos. 10:1–3) Comparison of Philo and T. Jos. Given the fact that the biblical account of Joseph’s interaction with Potiphar’s wife never mentions his swfrosu/nh, nor, for that matter, is there a particularly great emphasis upon his “self-control” beyond the statement that he resisted her advances, it is quite interesting that both Philo and T. Jos. repeatedly use this word to describe Joseph’s prominent character trait. Quite clearly, this term at

Roth, Shared Interpretive Traditions 61

some point entered the interpretive tradition surrounding Joseph and thus made its way into both of these accounts.18 Although one cannot be certain, it is possible that a slight shift in emphasis in the Joseph story led to the subsequent prominence of Joseph’s swfrosu/nh in post-biblical tradition. In the Genesis account the reason that Joseph provides for not succumbing to the advances of Potiphar’s wife is, “Look, with me here, my master has no concern about anything in the house, and he has put everything that he has in my hand. He is not greater in this house than I am, nor has he kept back anything from me except yourself, because you are his wife. How then could I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?” (Gen 39:8–9 NRSV). Joseph does not here begin his response with any mention of the sexual immorality of giving in to the desires of Potiphar’s wife. In fact, though it is probable that some conception of the inherent wickedness of committing adultery is part of Joseph’s concluding question (“How then shall I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?”), the primary emphasis of Joseph’s words rests on his abhorrence of the idea of breaking his master’s trust through the ultimate act of disrespect in appropriating his master’s wife to himself.19 In Philo, however, as was noted above, Joseph’s speech begins with a lengthy exposition on sexual chastity and the evil of committing the “greatest crime” of adultery. It is only subsequently that Philo mentions any distress that Joseph had related to disrespecting Potiphar.20 In T. Jos. the contrast with Genesis is even stronger in that the only sin Joseph is concerned with is that of adultery—a concern with showing contempt for Potiphar is never even mentioned. Thus, in Philo, the primary concern of Joseph in the Genesis account has been relegated to a secondary consideration, and in T. Jos. it has entirely disappeared from the account. The shift from a primary concern of not disrespecting Potiphar to a primary concern of not committing sexual immorality may account for the fact that it is not Joseph’s “respect for a person

18

Harrington concludes that both Philo and T. Jos. are “transmitting some Alexandrian exegetical traditions” (“Joseph,” 130). As already noted above, these are not the only two Second Temple texts mentioning this virtue of Joseph.

19 So also Harrington, “Joseph,” 127.

20 It seems, therefore, that Deborah Sills’s comment that in Philo, “Joseph emerges as a youth who understands that his first responsibility is to his master” may place too much emphasis on the issue that appears only secondarily in the text (“Strange Bedfellows: Politics and Narrative in Philo,” in The Seductiveness of Jewish Myth: Challenge or Response? [ed. S. Daniel Breslauer; Albany: State University of New York Press, 1997], 177–78).

62 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

of authority” that is presented as his primary character trait, but rather his “control of his desires.”21 The Silence of Joseph Concerning the Misdeeds of Others Having considered a first point of contact between De Iosepho and T. Jos., I now turn to a second, and in some ways more surprising, common interpretive tradition found in these two works. In the first example, although the term swfrosu/nh does not appear in the biblical account of Joseph’s refusal of Potiphar’s wife, it is not difficult to see how such an emphasis could arise out a story in which, for whatever reason, Joseph snubbed a woman enticing him to commit adultery. However, a second example, involving the silence of Joseph concerning the misdeeds of others,22 is significantly more difficult to understand in the light of Gen 40:14–15. In these verses Joseph, in the dialogue with the cupbearer after Joseph had interpreted his dream, says, “But remember me when it is well with you; please do me the kindness to make mention of me to Pharaoh, and so get me out of this place. For in fact I was stolen out of the land of the Hebrews; and here also I have done nothing that they should have put me into the dungeon.” More will be said on this point below in the comparison between the theme of Joseph’s silence in Philo and T. Jos. At this point, however, in order to be able to make such a comparison and understand how the use of the theme relates to Gen 40:14–15, it is first necessary to consider the specific passages where the theme of Joseph keeping secret what others have done to him appears.

Joseph’s Silence in De Iosepho In De Iosepho, Joseph’s silence figures prominently just after Joseph reveals his true identity to his brothers.23 Philo writes that once they recovered from the shock of the revelation, “The brothers, letting their tongues run freely, ceased not to sound his praise point by point” (Ios. 246). A key component of this panegyric for Joseph is their praise for the “pre-eminent self-restraint of his modest reticence” (Ios. 246) as demonstrated by the fact that

21

It is interesting to note in passing that the idea that Joseph was concerned primarily about avoiding the sin of adultery is also highlighted in Jub. 39:5–7.

22 As will be seen, T. Jos. has Joseph keeping secret a variety of misdeeds, whereas Philo focuses on his not having revealed what his brothers did to him.

23 Philo foreshadows the issue of Joseph’s silence prior to Joseph’s revealing himself to his brothers by stating that Joseph thought it best that no Egyptian should be present at the first recognition so that no reproach might come upon his brothers (see Ios. 237).

Roth, Shared Interpretive Traditions 63

He had passed through all these vicissitudes, yet neither while in slavery did he denounce his brothers for selling him nor when he was haled to prison did he in his despondency disclose any secret, nor during his long stay there make any revelations of the usual kind, since prisoners are apt to descant upon their personal misfortunes. He behaved as though he knew nothing of his past experiences, and not even when he was interpreting their dreams, to the eunuchs of the king, though he had a suitable opportunity for disclosing the facts, did he say a word about his own high lineage. Nor yet, when he was appointed to be the king’s viceroy and was charged with the superintendence and headship over all Egypt, did he say anything to prevent the belief that he was of obscure and ignoble station. . . . (Ios. 247–248) It should be noted that Philo seems to indicate the reason why he insists that Joseph kept secret what his brothers had done to him by writing, “In fact the story of their [the brothers’] conspiracy and selling of him to slavery was so completely unknown and remained so secret that the chiefs of the Egyptians rejoiced to hear that the brothers of the governor had now for the first time come to visit him” (Ios. 250).

Joseph’s Silence in T. Jos. In the second section of T. Jos. (10:5–18:4), the primary focus is on Joseph’s silence, and the text even has Joseph introducing the description of all the circumstances in which he kept silent with the words, “I did not arouse myself with evil design, but honored my brothers, and out of regard for them even when they sold me I was silent rather than tell the Ishmaelites that I was the son of Jacob, a great and righteous man” (T. Jos. 10:6). This statement is followed by the recounting of Joseph’s experiences with the slave-traders and coming into Potiphar’s house, in which Joseph four times makes reference to keeping silent about the misdeeds of others.

First, immediately after having been sold into slavery, Joseph says, “As I was going with the Ishmaelites, they kept asking me, ‘Are you a slave?’ And I replied, ‘I am a slave out of a household,’ so as not to disgrace my brothers. The greatest of them said to me ‘You are not a slave; even your appearance discloses that.’ But I told them that I was a slave” (T. Jos. 11:2–3). Upon arriving in Egypt the Ishmaelites agree to leave Joseph with a trader, whose business prospers greatly during the three months that Joseph is there.

64 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

However, Potiphar’s wife becomes aware of Joseph’s presence in the household of the trader and tells Potiphar that a young Hebrew had been stolen from the land of Canaan. She entreats Potiphar to go and “work justice” concerning Joseph, which would result in the blessing of his own household. It is after Potiphar becomes involved that the second occurrence of Joseph’s silence is mentioned. The account reads: Pentephris24 said [to the trader] “Bring in the young man.”

When I entered I prostrated myself before Pentephris, for he was third in rank among Pharaoh’s officers. And taking me aside from the trader he said to me, “Are you a slave or a freeman?” I said to him, “A slave.” He said, “Of whom?” I replied, “Of the Ishmaelites.” He said, “How did you become a slave?” And I said, “They bought me out of the land of Canaan.” But he said to me, “You are really lying.” And immediately he ordered that I also be stripped and whipped.

(T. Jos. 13:5–9) Twenty-four days later the Ishmaelites returned to the trader, and having heard that Jacob was mourning over a lost son, inquire of Joseph why he told them that he was a slave, because they now know that he is the son of a great man25 and that his father is mourning for him in sackcloth and ashes. Joseph’s response is the third instance in which his silence is highlighted: “When I heard this my inner being was dissolved and my heart melted, and I wanted to weep very much, but I restrained myself so as not to bring disgrace on my brothers. So I said to them, ‘I know nothing; I am a slave.’ ” (T. Jos. 15:3–4).

The fourth, and final, incident in which Joseph keeps silent about the misdeeds of others is different from the first three in that up to this point Joseph’s silence has been about the actions of his brothers. However, when Potiphar’s wife sends a eunuch to buy Joseph at any price, “the eunuch went and gave them eighty pieces of gold and took me away, but he told the Egyptian

24

In T. Jos. Potiphar is called “Pentephris,” and his wife is referred to as “the Memphian woman” or “the Egyptian woman.”

25 Although it will not be discussed further here, it is noteworthy that both Philo and the author make reference to the idea that Joseph is the “son of a great man” (T. Jos. 15:2) or “of a high lineage” (Ios. 248). In their encomium of Joseph it is apparent that they desire not only to show forth Joseph’s own character by the manner in which he conducts himself, but also to present Joseph as hailing from noble lineage.

Roth, Shared Interpretive Traditions 65

woman he had paid a hundred” (T. Jos. 16:5). Joseph says, “Although I knew the facts, I kept quiet in order not to bring the eunuch under disgrace” (T. Jos. 16:5).

Here Joseph’s concern for the disgrace of others extends beyond his own family to a complete stranger who is a fellow-servant in Potiphar’s house.

Comparison of Philo and T. Jos. Once again both Philo and T. Jos. present a shared interpretive tradition, but the manner in which this tradition appears in the respective writings is quite different from the situation observed in the first case, where a particular character trait of Joseph appeared in a similar context and for a similar purpose.

In the case of Joseph’s silence, however, there are only minimal points in which the two narratives are in agreement, and these points are overshadowed by rather significant differences.26 Indeed, the only aspects which are common to the accounts in De Iosepho and T. Jos. are the fact that Joseph kept secret what had happened to him and that he did so out of respect for his brothers. Of greater interest are the ways in which the two accounts diverge.

First, in De Iosepho, Philo does not mention Joseph having kept secret what his brothers did to him until the brothers are in Egypt and are reunited with Joseph. In fact, it is the brothers themselves who praise Joseph for the manner in which he conducted himself by not denouncing them or revealing the secret of how he came to Egypt. It is interesting, though, that Philo writes that Joseph is praised for keeping silent while in slavery, while in jail, and while interpreting the dreams—though here it is said that he kept silent concerning his high lineage—as all of these are circumstances after the time when he came into Potiphar’s house.27 Thus, it is only at the conclusion of the Joseph story that, in retrospect, Joseph is praised for his silence. In T. Jos., on the other hand, Joseph is scarcely in the hands of the Ishmaelites before he begins hiding his true identity and all four occurrences of Joseph keeping silent are said to have occurred before Joseph arrives in Potiphar’s house.28 26

The different manner in which the tradition of Joseph’s silence is used in De Iosepho and T. Jos. may indicate that this tradition was not directly tied to any one specific event, as was the case with Joseph’s swfrosu/nh.

27 It is, of course, possible that the reference to the time while Joseph was “in slavery” begins as soon as he is sold to the Ishmaelites; however, it is still noteworthy that every other circumstance is clearly from the time after having been sold into Potiphar’s house.

28 Though often providing several helpful observations, Hollander also writes, “Philo and T. Joseph differ in that the latter connects the motif [of Joseph’s silence] much more obviously with Joseph’s silence before his kingship” (“The Ethical Character,” 70; restated in Joseph as an Ethical Model, 45). Philo’s comments in Ios. 247–248, quoted above, reveal

66 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

This differing focus on events before or after Joseph arrives in Potiphar’s house results in a second major difference. Philo comments that Joseph is praised for his silence only in circumstances that are known to the reader from the Genesis account (i.e., Joseph in slavery, in jail, and while interpreting dreams); however, in T. Jos. Joseph’s silence takes place within a narrative of events concerning which the biblical text is silent.29 Thus, Philo’s use of this interpretive tradition can be understood within the context of the Genesis narrative whereas the use of the tradition in T. Jos. necessitates a whole series of events not mentioned in the biblical account.30 A third significant difference between De Iosepho and T. Jos. is the reason why the issue of Joseph’s silence is introduced into the texts. As already mentioned above, for Philo, Joseph’s silence explains how it could be that Pharaoh and his officers were pleased to hear that Joseph’s brothers had come.

When reading the Joseph story, it is not difficult to imagine Philo, or a previous Second Temple interpreter, puzzling over Gen 45:16 and the account that Pharaoh and his officials were pleased at the report that Joseph’s brothers had come. A possible route to the interpretive tradition of Joseph’s silence could be as follows: “Why would Pharaoh and his officials be pleased that the men who had done this horrible deed of selling Joseph into slavery had come to Egypt?

Unless, of course, they were unaware of what Joseph’s brothers had done. But why would they be unaware of what had happened to Joseph? Of course! They did not know because Joseph never told them.” Thus, though Philo has the brothers praise Joseph for not having denounced them, it may very well be that the reason Joseph’s silence is even mentioned in the first place is to explain a difficulty found in the Genesis account. In T. Jos., however, there is no hint that the author knew about, or if he knew was concerned with, a potential interpretive link between Joseph’s silence and the difficulty perceived to be present in Gen 45:16. Rather, the reason Joseph’s silence is mentioned is in order to have Joseph say, that it is not subsequent to Joseph’s rising to the “kingship” that Joseph’s silence becomes important; rather, the difference lies in the primary connection of the motif to the time before or after Joseph’s arrival in Potiphar’s house.

29 In Gen 27:28, 36 the narrative simple states that Joseph went from the hands of the Ishmaelites to Potiphar. Between vv. 28 and 36 the narrative recounts what Reuben and Joseph’s brothers did (Reuben went back to get Joseph and sees that he is gone, the brothers tear and bloody Joseph’s coat, and they tell Jacob that Joseph had been mauled by wild animals).

30 It is also interesting that Philo seems to mention Joseph’s silence more in passing while the entire second half of T. Jos. is structured around this tradition.

Roth, Shared Interpretive Traditions 67

So you see, my children, how many things I endured in order not to bring my brothers into disgrace. You, therefore, love one another and in patient endurance conceal one another’s shortcomings. God is delighted by harmony among brothers and by the intention of a kind heart that takes pleasure in goodness. (T. Jos. 17:1–3)31 Therefore, T. Jos. views Joseph’s silence as a demonstration of a kind and good heart that exhibits love for others by concealing their misdeeds. Once again, the author of T. Jos. then uses Joseph’s example as the basis for exhortation.

Fourth, it is quite intriguing to find the story of Joseph having kept secret the eunuch’s dishonesty in T. Jos. Clearly, Philo is only concerned with mentioning Joseph’s silence as it relates to what his brothers had done, and up to 16:5, the same emphasis is present in T. Jos. The introduction of the eunuch, and Joseph not revealing his dishonesty, is curious, particularly in light of the fact that the exhortation immediately following involves loving one another in the context of “harmony among brothers.” Although the eunuch is clearly not Joseph’s brother, perhaps the account is present in order to expand the idea of “love for one another” in order to give the concept broader import.

Finally, before concluding this comparison, a few words need to be said about the relationship of the interpretive tradition of Joseph’s silence to Gen 40:15. Even though Philo technically only says that Joseph did not say a word “about his own high lineage” when interpreting the dreams of Pharaoh’s servants in jail, and T. Jos. only recounts that Joseph kept silent about others’ misdeeds before he came into Potiphar’s house, it is still surprising to find such a strong interpretive tradition about Joseph’s silence when the Genesis account clearly has Joseph telling the cupbearer that he had been “stolen by theft out of the land of the Hebrews” (Gen 40:15). That Joseph told no one else in Pharaoh’s household is quite possible, and since the cupbearer forgot about Joseph after being restored to his position, Joseph’s subsequent silence could still be used as the explanation for why Pharaoh was pleased when Joseph’s brothers arrived. It is more difficult, however, to understand the praise of Joseph enduring so many hardships just to avoid disgracing his brothers (as is the case in T. Jos.), when the

31

This theme is also found in the HB in passages such as Prov 10:12 (“Hatred stirs up strife, but love covers all offenses,” NRSV) and 17:9 (“Whoever covers an offense seeks love, but he who repeats a matter separates close friends,” ESV). In the NT one may be reminded of 1 Pet 4:8 (“Above all, maintain constant love for one another, for love covers a multitude of sins,” NRSV).

68 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

biblical account, in such a matter-of-fact manner, reveals that keeping complete silence about his circumstances was not first and foremost in Joseph’s mind. In fact, in an attempt to find a way out of jail, Joseph apparently has no qualms revealing to the cupbearer that he was brought unjustly to Egypt and now is imprisoned unjustly in Egypt.

Conclusion At this point, it is interesting to note that De Iosepho, a text written by an Alexandrian Jew, and T. Jos., a text used in early Christian communities, share two particular interpretive traditions concerning Joseph in their accounts of this patriarch. Though it has been seen that the utilization of the traditions in the two texts is not identical, it is noteworthy that in both their similarities and differences these texts highlight a phenomenon evident in numerous other texts as well, namely the shared interpretive context of texts utilized in Second Temple Judaism and early Christianity.32 Therefore, the foregoing discussion does not merely provide insight into interpretive traditions in two Second Temple texts, but also provides some of the context for understanding the figure of Joseph in early Christianity—a context that cannot be fully appreciated apart from an awareness of Second Temple literature.

www.jjmjs.org

32

Interestingly, there are only two explicit references to the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs in early patristic literature: one by Origen and one by Jerome (see Harm W. Hollander, “The Influence of the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs in the Early Church: Joseph as Model in Prochorus’ Acts of John,” OLP 9 [1978]: 75). At the same time, the idea of Joseph keeping himself chaste subsequently appears in the writings of several church fathers including Clement of Alexandria (Paed. 3.11), Origen (Cels. 4.46), Eusebius (Comm. Ps. 25:1), and Asterius of Amasea (Homily 6.4). See also, A. W. Argyle, “Joseph the Patriarch in Patristic Teaching,” ExpTim 67 (1955–1956): 199–201. Also worth perusing is de Jonge’s chapter “The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs as a Document Transmitted by Christians,” in Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament, 84–106, esp. pp. 102–5.

The Epistle of James as a Witness to Broader Patterns of Jewish Exegetical Discourse* Serge Ruzer The Hebrew University of Jerusalem JJMJS No. 1 (2014): 69–98

Introduction The authorship, addressees, and setting of the New Testament Epistle of James remain disputed. In church tradition, the dominant position is held by the attribution of the Letter to James, Jesus’ brother (or cousin)—the person mentioned in Matt 13:55–57 and Mark 6:3–4 (absent from the Lukan parallel in 4:16–30). It deserves notice that in both Matthew and Mark these occurrences are preceded with an indication of tension within the family.1 In recent research, arguments both for and against the traditional attribution have been advanced, and the jury is still out on this point.2 The setting of the epistle constitutes a separate topic, distinct from that of any

* An earlier version of this study, entitled “James on Faith and Righteousness in the Context of a Broader Jewish Exegetical Discourse,” appeared in New Approaches to the Study of Biblical Interpretation in Judaism of the Second Temple Period and in Early Christianity (ed. G. A. Anderson, R. A. Clements, and D. Satran; Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah 106; Leiden: Brill, 2013), 79–104.

1 Matt 12:46–50; Mark 3:31–35; cf. Luke 8:19–21. Cf. Gal 1:19, where James is called the Lord’s brother; and Acts 12:2–17; 15; and 21, where he is portrayed as the key figure in the Jerusalem community. See also Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 20.197–203, who reports on James’s execution at the instigation of the high priest in the year 62 (cf. Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History 2.23.3–4). See R. Bauckham, “For What Offense Was James Put to Death,” in James the Just and Christian Origins (ed. B. Chilton and C. A. Evans; NovTSup 98; Leiden: Brill, 1999), 199–232; and C. A. Evans, “Jesus and James: Martyrs of the Temple,” in Chilton and Evans, James the Just, 233–49. Other persons bearing this name are also mentioned in the New Testament, among them one of Jesus’ important disciples, James son of Zebedee (brother of John—Matt 10:3).

2 For a review of scholarly opinions, see M. Myllykoski, “James the Just in History and Tradition: Perspectives of Past and Present Scholarship (Part 1),” Currents in Biblical Research 5/1 (2006): 73–122.

70 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

specific link to the historical person of James, or lack thereof. Yet here again the matter is far from settled. While some scholars believe that the letter originated in an early Jewish–Christian milieu in the Land of Israel,3 others speak in terms of a later Diaspora provenance.4 The addressees are clearly people of the Diaspora,5 but the makeup of the intended audience remains a debated issue, with suggestions ranging from entirely Gentile Christian, to a mixed community, to one composed predominantly of Jewish Jesus-followers.

It is intriguing that the same data have been interpreted as pointing in opposite directions. The opening line’s appeal “to the twelve tribes in the Dispersion” (Jas 1:1);6 the total lack of reference to the issue of Gentile membership or of the applicability to them of the ritual demands of the Torah (themes so prominent in Paul’s writings and in the foundational report in Acts 3

See, for example, P. H. Davids, “Palestinian Traditions in the Epistle of James,” in Chilton and Evans, James the Just, 33–57, who analyzes, inter alia, linguistic evidence and occupational imagery. See also D. L. Bartlett, “The Epistle of James as a Jewish–Christian Document,” Society of Biblical Literature 1979 Seminar Papers (ed. P. J. Achtemeier; Missoula, Mont.: Scholars Press, 1979), 2:173–86.

4 Cited as possible indications are: the late first explicit reference to the letter (by Origen; it is not mentioned by Tertullian and is absent from the Muratorian Fragment); the fact that canonicity remained disputed even in the course of the fourth century (though accepted, with reservations, by Eusebius, it would be later doubted, for example, by Theodore of Mopsuestia); its reasonably good Greek style; the lack of references to the temple; and indications of a knowledge of Paul’s writings from the late 50s. These features, however, are far from providing conclusive proof and are, moreover, open to alternative interpretations. See the discussion in Davids, “Palestinian Traditions”; J. Kloppenborg, “Diaspora Discourse: The Construction of Ethos in James,” NTS 53 (2007): 242–70.

5 As parallels in genre (i.e., epistles sent to the Diaspora from the Land of Israel), one may invoke 2 Maccabees, the Letter of Jeremiah and the letter at the end of the Syriac Apocalypse of Baruch. See Davids, “Palestinian Traditions.”

6 Cf. War Scroll 1:1–2; Matt 19:28; Luke 22:30; Rev 7:2–8; 21:12. See also Acts 1–2, which ascribes importance to filling the “number” of twelve apostles, as eschatological representatives of the twelve tribes; and correspondingly, the description of the foundational event of the Jesus movement in Acts 2:5–11 as the eschatological ingathering of the dispersions of Israel. See S. Pines, “Notes on the Twelve Tribes in Qumran, Early Christianity, and Jewish Tradition,” in Messiah and Christos: Studies in the Jewish Origins of Christianity (ed. I. Gruenwald, S. Shaked, and G. G. Stroumsa; TSAJ 32; Tübingen: Mohr [Siebeck], 1992), 151–54; cf. J. Taylor, “The List of the Nations in Acts 2:9–11,” RB 106/3 (1999): 408–20. If the expression “the twelve tribes” generally signals scenarios of eschatological judgment, its use in James is particularly interesting in view of the very low-key eschatology that characterizes the rest of the epistle.

Ruzer, The Epistle of James 71

15); the lack of any references to the temple or of any “distinctively Christian” concepts—all these features have been interpreted as either reflecting the earliest stage in the development of Christianity, characterized by a traditionally Jewish pattern of messianic belief (and perhaps politely including Gentile fellow travelers in the community), or, alternatively, as reflecting a much later stage, when the “hot” issues, including those pertaining to the Jewish–Gentile conundrum and that of Jesus’ status, have already been settled. This later stage is seen as characterized by a full-blown “supersessionist” tendency that had by then won the day, so that, for example, the “twelve tribes” appellation might now incontrovertibly signify the Gentile church.7 The main message of the epistle—namely, that faith should be expressed in deeds—has likewise been interpreted in various ways: either as a pointed response to Pauline positions and thus as an expression of an intraChristian dispute8 or, alternatively, as a less specific development within broader Jewish thought of themes originating in wisdom literature.9 According to David

7

For an overview of existing opinions, see Myllykoski, “James the Just in History and Tradition”; Bartlett, “The Epistle of James.” See also M. Konradt, Christlische Existenz nach dem Jakobusbrief: eine Studie zu seiner soteriologischen und ethischen Konzepzion (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998).

8 See Bartlett, “The Epistle of James,” 173, 175, 178–79. See also P. J. Hartin, “Call to Be Perfect Through Suffering (James 1,2–4): The Concept of Perfection in the Epistle of James and the Sermon on the Mount,” Biblica 77/4 (1996): 477–92, who discerns in the epistle clear signs of literary dependence on the existing written Gospel traditions, e.g., the Sermon on the Mount. See also idem, James and the Q Sayings of Jesus (JSNTSup 47; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1991). But compare R. Bauckham, “James and Jesus,” in The Brother of Jesus: James the Just and His Mission (ed. B. Chilton and J. Neusner; Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001), 100–137, who sees James’s relation to the tradition of the sayings of Jesus in terms of “creative appropriation and re-expression.”

9 Davids, “Palestinian Traditions,” shows—in opposition to the suggestion of late dating and intra-Christian discourse—that despite some similarities, the epistle is not dependent on any written form of the gospel tradition. Moreover, the piety/poverty material in James echoes to some extent themes in Qumran literature and 1 Enoch (mediated through the Jesus tradition), while material on wisdom, tongue, and speech echoes Proverbs and Ben Sira. See also Hartin, “Call to Be Perfect.” It is worthy of note that, unlike similar passages in James (e.g., 1:5), the parallels in the Sermon on the Mount do not attest to any emphasis on wisdom. Wisdom language is replaced there by a call to follow God’s example: God is merciful—you should be merciful. The Dead Sea Scrolls bear witness to the notion that the “impossible demands” become feasible thanks to the predestined election of the sons of light and the gift of the Holy Spirit (see, e.g., 1QS 11,

72 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

Bartlett, a mixture of (general) Jewish and (particular) Jewish–Christian materials may be discerned in the epistle; in other words, general Jewish patterns are informed and colored here by an intra-Christian polemic.10 In his recent study, John Kloppenborg went so far as to suggest that the epistle was addressed to a general Diaspora Jewish community to which Jewish Christians still belonged; he believes that the intention of the author was to strengthen the position of the Christian minority as an integral part of that community—that is, as sharing that broader community’s religious concerns and patterns of discourse.11 In her recent study, Maren Niehoff sides instead with the perception of the letter as reflecting an intra-Christian problematique.12 This essay is a further attempt to revisit this conundrum via the discussion of some strategies of biblical exegesis characteristic of James—an avenue underrepresented in the existing research. I believe that this exegetical angle may be especially useful for probing the possibility of the epistle as a witness to contemporaneous Jewish discourse. I will attempt to determine whether the strategies of interpretation represented in the epistle reflect exclusively intra-Christian concerns or also broader tendencies of hermeneutics; and, in the latter case, whether they bear witness to Hellenistic, or alternatively to Palestinian Jewish, patterns of exegetical discourse. There is a certain overlap in the data discussed in my investigation and in that of Niehoff, but our conclusions concerning the setting of the epistle often differ. These differences, however, are secondary to my discussion which strives to demonstrate that sometimes, even when the precise Sitz im Leben of an exegetical motif employed by the epistle remains unclear, this motif can still be used in reconstructing the larger picture of ancient Jewish Bible exegesis.

As test cases I have chosen two motifs that are featured prominently in Jas 1 and 2: (1) Nomos (Torah) as a “perfect royal law of freedom”; and (2) Abraham as an outstanding example of a righteous man whose faith is expressed in the deed of the Akedah. I will touch on relevant exegetical patterns attested in Second Temple Jewish writings, but the bulk of the evidence will come from the 1QH 4). We may have here different developments of a shared underlying topic, which together bear witness to that common background.

10 See Bartlett, “The Epistle of James.”

11 J. Kloppenborg, “Diaspora Discourse.”

12 See M. R. Niehoff, “The Implied Audience of the Letter of James,” New Approaches to the Study of Biblical Interpretation in Judaism of the Second Temple Period and in Early Christianity (ed. G. A. Anderson, R. A. Clements, and D. Satran; Leiden: Brill, 2013), 57– 77. Niehoff’s article has further references to suggestions recently raised with regard to the setting of the epistle.

Ruzer, The Epistle of James 73

Palestinian Jewish traditions found in rabbinic sources. The later provenance of these sources constitutes an obvious problem when they are invoked as possible “background” to New Testament materials.13 In light of this difficulty, it is the opposite track—namely, the study of the Epistle of James as a possible early witness for certain Jewish tendencies further developed in later rabbinic Judaism—that may hold promise.

Torah as the Perfect Royal Law of Freedom “All the Torah” in the “Love Your Neighbor” Precept The opening section of James is characterized by highly charged descriptions of God’s law as the “perfect law of liberty” (1:25: νόμος τέλειος τῆς ἐλευτερίας; 2:12: νόμου . . . ἐλευτερίας), and the “royal law” (2:8: νόμος βασιλικός).14 The latter passage further advises the reader: “If you really fulfill the royal law according to the scripture, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself,’ you do well.”15 Naturally, these praises of the law as God’s kingly gift and the ultimate expression of human freedom invite comparison with Paul’s diatribe against “false brethren . . . who slipped in to spy out our freedom which we have in Jesus Christ” (Gal 2:4), freedom that Paul contrasts to the (ritual) demands of the Jewish law (Gal 2:15– 21). It should be noted that Paul’s argument here is addressed to a Gentile audience, a fact that might definitely have influenced his rhetoric.16 Whatever the case, we will tackle the question whether one should necessarily see in Jas 1:25 and 2:12 pointed polemic with Pauline-type views further on; but first, the possible general Jewish setting of James’s statements needs to be addressed.

The focus on Lev 19:18 (“You shall love your neighbor as yourself”) as the representative pillar of the divine law is well attested in Jewish tradition from Second Temple times on. Thus we read in Jubilees 36:4–8: And among yourselves, my sons, be loving of your brothers as a man loves himself, with each man seeking for his brother what is good for him, and acting together on earth, and loving each other as themselves. . . . Remember, my sons, the LORD, the God of Abraham, your father. . . . And now I will make you 13

On this problem with regard to discussion of the Epistle of James, see Niehoff, “The Implied Audience,” 61–64.

14 If not otherwise stated, English translations of biblical and New Testament passages are from the Revised Standard Version.

15 See also Jas 2:1–7, where an interpretation of Lev 19:18 seems to be elaborated.

16 See J. G. Gager, Reinventing Paul (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), esp. 77–100.

74 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

swear by the great oath17 . . . (that) each will love his brother with compassion.18 It has been argued that this focus reflects a core religious metamorphosis characteristic of the thought of the Jewish sages of that period—the appearance of what David Flusser called “a new sensitivity in Judaism.”19 It can be shown that this emphasis on Lev 19:18 was internalized in multiple Jewish milieus, including that of Qumran. Yet in the latter case, the love command received an idiosyncratic interpretation that restricted the loving attitude to the members of the elect community, whereas an attitude of hatred/enmity was prescribed toward outsiders (the “sons of darkness”).20 One should note that Philo identifies the core principle regulating interpersonal human relations not with Lev 19:18 but rather with the second part of the Decalogue; the first part, in contrast, represents the core principle (“head”) for the Torah commandments that treat a person’s relations with God.21 The focus on Lev 19:18, then, may have represented a hermeneutical tendency within Palestinian Jewry.

It is in later rabbinic sources, as well as in the Gospels (Matt 22:34–40; cf. Mark 12:28–31; Luke 10:25–28), that the clear identification of the command to love one’s neighbor as the foundational principle of the entire Torah is found.

In a Tannaitic midrash, Sifra Qedoshim 2:4 (cf. Gen. R. 24), this idea is ascribed to R. Akiva; whereas, according to the Babylonian Talmud (b. Sabb. 31a), Hillel 17

A clear reference to the ending of Lev 19:18 (“I am the Lord!”).

The English translation follows that of O. S. Wintermute in OTP 1:124.

19 See D. Flusser, “A New Sensitivity in Judaism and the Christian Message,” in idem, Judaism and the Origins of Christianity (Jerusalem: The Hebrew University Magnes Press, 1988), 469–89. It seems significant that in the passage from Jubilees the love command is programmatically linked to Abraham, the founding father of Israel as a religious entity.

20 See S. Ruzer, “From ‘Love Your Neighbor’ to ‘Love your Enemy,’” in idem, Mapping the New Testament: Early Christian Writings as a Witness for Jewish Biblical Interpretation (Jewish and Christian Perspectives 13; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 35–70; idem, “The Double Love Precept: Between Pharisees, Jesus, and Qumran Covenanters,” in idem, Mapping the New Testament, 71–100.

21 See Philo, Spec. 2.63. Cf. G. E. Sterling, “Was There a Common Ethic in Second Temple Judaism?” in Sapiential Perspectives: Wisdom Literature in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls.

Proceedings of the Sixth International Symposium of the Orion Center for the Study of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Associated Literature, 20–22 May, 2001 (STDJ 51; ed. J. J. Collins, G. E. Sterling, and R. A. Clements; Leiden: Brill, 2004), 171–94, where he highlights the centrality of Lev 19 in general (but not specifically Lev 19:18!) for a variety of patterns of Jewish ethical instruction attested in both Hellenistic Diaspora sources and the Qumran scrolls.

18

Ruzer, The Epistle of James 75

had made a similar claim even earlier.22 It should be emphasized that in these instances Lev 19:18 is not presented as detached from the other Torah regulations; quite the opposite, it is perceived as the Great Rule (‫ )הכלל הגדול‬from which these regulations are derived. Possible differences in the perception of the range of those “secondary obligations” notwithstanding, the same basic idea may be discerned in the verses immediately following the programmatic statement in Jas 2:8 and, as it seems, elaborating on it (Jas 2:8–11): If you really fulfill the royal law, according to the scripture, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself,” you do well. (9) But if you show partiality, you commit sin, and are convicted by the law as transgressors. (10) For whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become guilty of all of it. (11) For he who said, “Do not commit adultery,” said also, “Do not kill.” If you do not commit adultery but do kill, you have become a transgressor of the law.

In my opinion, the above evidence on the Lev 19:18–centered patterns of exegesis in early Jewish sources indicates that (a) in Jas 1:25 and 2:8, νόμος stands for the Torah of Moses; and (b) the saying in Jas 2:8, far from reflecting a peculiar Christian development, is but one more witness to the broader Jewish exegetical tendency starting, as noted, in the time of the Second Temple and continuing well into the rabbinic period.23 The alternative conclusion—much less probable in light of the Second Temple period evidence—would be that the notion of Lev 19:18 as the sum total of the Torah was first developed in the early Christian context and later reinvented or picked up by some rabbinic authorities, who ascribed it to Hillel and Akiva. Niehoff seems to prefer the latter model, based on the fact that no late Second Temple Jewish sources—that is, outside the New Testament—contain a perfect overlap with Jas 2:8’s exegetical elaboration on Lev 19:18.24 In my opinion, however, it is not necessary to find an

22

It has been convincingly argued that Hillel’s negatively formulated version of the Torah’s foundational principle (Golden Rule) represents, in fact, within the Jewish discourse an ancient interpretation of Lev 19:18. See D. Flusser, Jesus (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2001), 86–89.

23 But cf. J. H. Ropes, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Epistle of St. James (ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1916/1961), 198, according to whom νόμος here means “the law of God as known to the reader through the Christian interpretation.”

24 See Niehoff, “Implied Audience,” 69–73 and n.61.

76 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

overlap between various exegetical elaborations and establish their common Jewish setting, but rather to see their shared backdrop topic. In this case, I would search—possibly under the influence of certain philosophical trends in the Roman-Hellenistic world—for a concise set of principles that represents the whole Torah, with Lev 19:18 as a strong, but not only, candidate.25 The fact that Jas 2:8 contains no indication that positing Lev 19:18 as the “great commandment” is derived from the Jesus-centered Messianic outlook further supports the suggestion to view it as a witness for the aforementioned broader Jewish exegetical pattern.

The same argument for a general Jewish backdrop may be made with regard to Gal 5:14 (cf. Rom 13:8–10): “For the whole Torah (law) is fulfilled in one word: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’” It should be noted that no polemic can be discerned between Jas 2:8 and the ideas expressed in these Pauline passages. Moreover, neither in James nor in Paul is the appeal to this seemingly widely accepted exegetical pattern made for the sake of a polemic with the “formative” Jewish tradition. It is, rather, the expression of an intrinsic link to that tradition; once established, this link is further used to promote the author’s particular agenda, which only in Paul’s case is a Christ-centered one.

Since the explicit emphasis on Lev 19:18 as the core principle of the Torah is also attested in the Gospels (emphatically so in Matthew), one may alternatively claim that the formulation in Jas 2:8—and then also in the Pauline letters—is primarily derived from the Jesus tradition. Yet neither James nor Paul presents the tradition as going back to Jesus, and at least Paul is known to have been sensitive to this issue and keen on differentiating between revealed truths, truths transmitted by a tradition, and truths attained through his own contemplation.26 It also deserves notice that in a characteristic instance of Matt 19:16–22, where Lev 19:18 seems to be referred to as a sum total of (Decalogue) commandments, Jesus’ words are presented as reflecting broader understanding.

In addition to Lev 19:18, references to Deut 6:4–5 may also be discerned in James (Jas 2:5, 19; 4:12),27 and pairing of these two “love commands” is undeniably a salient feature of the Jesus tradition (see Matt 22:34–40; Mark 12:28–31; Luke 10:25–28). Yet the passage from Deuteronomy constitutes arguably one of the core references in the Jewish religious discourse; furthermore, as I have shown elsewhere on the basis of a Qumranic parallel, the

25

See Ruzer, “The Double Love Precept,” 71–72.

See, for example, 1 Cor 7; Gal 1.

27 For discussion, see D. H. Edgar, “The Use of the Love-Command and the Shema in the Epistle of James,” Proceedings of the Irish Biblical Association 23 (2003): 9–22.

26

Ruzer, The Epistle of James 77

exegetical coupling of Deut 6:4–5 and Lev 19:18 also had wide currency in late Second Temple Judaism—a tendency of which the Synoptic pericope mentioned above is but one example.28 One should also pay attention to the fact that the Gospel tradition itself presents Jesus’ ruling on the double love precept as coinciding with general (Pharisaic) opinion.29 Moreover, Matthew’s statement to the effect that the whole of the Torah and all the prophets are dependent on the core principles of Lev 19:18 and Deut 6:5 seems to be part of his general tendency to present Jesus’ teaching as being in accordance with the authoritative (Pharisaic) patterns of Jewish religious discourse.30 Thus, such a coupling is not in itself sufficient to establish a specific link with the Synoptic material—the more so as a clear two-pronged exegetical pattern, explicitly combining Lev 19:18 with Deut 6:5 as the twin core principles of the Torah, is conspicuously absent in James (the same applies to Gal 5:14 and Rom 13:8–10). I suggest, therefore, that what we are witnessing here is, rather, a linkage with the general topic of Jewish exegetical discourse outlined above.31 The Perfect Royal Torah Having established that in James the νόμος stands for the Torah of Moses, epitomized—in accordance with a contemporary Jewish tradition—in the loveyour-neighbor command, let us return to the description of this command as the “perfect royal law of freedom/liberty” (Jas 1:25; 2:8). It should be noted at the outset that neither “perfect” (τέλειος) nor “royal” (βασιλικός) is to be found in

28

Thus, according to my reading, a similar coupling is also attested in the Community Rule 1. See discussion in Ruzer, “The Double Love Precept,” 90–94.

29 See Ruzer, “The Double Love Precept,” 75.

30 On the problematic closeness of Matthew’s community to the Pharisees, see, for example, A. J. Saldarini, Matthew’s Christian–Jewish Community (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994). Cf. J. A. Fitzmyer, To Advance the Gospel (2d ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 83, where he suggests, with regard to another Matthean pericope (5:31– 32), that “Matthew . . . has modified it to make it better suit his Jewish–Christian concerns, casting it in terms of [the] Hillel–Shammai dispute.”

31 But see T. W. Leahy (“The Epistle of James,” in The New Jerome Biblical Commentary [ed. R. E. Brown, J. A. Fitzmyer, and R. E. Murphy; Herndon, Va.: Chapman, 1997], 912), who insists that James is here “alluding to the command of love of neighbor (Lev 19:18) cited in Jesus’ preaching of the kingdom (Matt 22:39). By fulfilling the command of love of neighbor one fulfills the whole law. This was made explicit in Rom 13:8–10; Gal 5:14.”

Cf. Edgar (“The Use of the Love-Command,” 11–12, 16–20), who believes that the reference to both Deut 6:5 and Lev 19:18 in James indicates specific proximity to the synoptic tradition.

78 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

Paul’s descriptions of the law. As a matter of fact, “royal” is totally absent from both the Gospels and the vocabulary of the authentic Pauline letters, whereas “perfect” does appear in the epistles but in a different context. Thus, the will of God in Rom 12:2, and the future prophetic revelation in 1 Cor 13:10, are both called perfect. Alternatively, in 1 Cor 2:6 and 14:20, “perfect” designates believers of mature religious stature who carry out God’s will.32 It is in this latter sense that τέλειος is invoked in the Gospel tradition—namely, in Matthew (5:48; 19:21); a similar, even if not identical, notion is also attested at Qumran (1QS 1:8; 3:9; 5:24; 11:2).33 There is no explicit link between any of these usages of τέλειος and that attested in Jas 1:25, and thus no particular reason to see in the τέλειος and βασιλικός wording of the James passage an indication of an intra-Christian discourse—polemical or otherwise.

An investigation of James’s possible points of reference in a broader Jewish tradition is therefore justified. In James, “perfect” and “royal/kingly” seem to be eternal attributes of the Torah; the author of the epistle makes no attempt whatsoever to link these terms to a an eschatological, Messiah-centered understanding of the divine law. The best analogy to the use of “perfect” in James, in fact, is Ps 19:8, which describes the Torah as “perfect” (‫ )תמימה‬and, in its perfection, as “reviving the soul” (‫)משיבת נפש‬.34 Even if this characterization of the Torah in James expresses a polemical stance vis-à-vis claims for the Torah’s dramatically new meaning/interpretation for the end of the ages, there is no indication that the polemic is directed specifically against Paul (see 2 Cor 3)— claims of this kind had a much broader circulation, as attested, for example, in 1QPesher Habakkuk 2 and 7, and Damascus Document 6 (4Q266 ii–iii; 4Q267 2; 4Q269 iv; 4Q270 ii).35 In the Hebrew Bible, God is perceived as the Eternal King of the Universe; such expressions as “King of the world/eternity” (‫ )מלך העולם‬or “King of the kings” (‫)מלך ]מלכי[ המלכים‬, routinely used in Jewish liturgy from early

32

Cf. Eph 4:13; Phil 3:15.

See also 1QS 2:1–4; 9:2–19; 10:21–23; 1Q28a 1:17; 1Q28b 1:2.

34 This verse, as well as its later midrashic elaborations, could be a starting point for further investigation of this term in James, but such an investigation is beyond the scope of the present study.

35 See the discussion in S. Ruzer, “The New Covenant, the Reinterpretation of Scripture, and Collective Messiahship,” in idem, Mapping the New Testament, 215–38, esp. 220–29.

Cf. the “conservative” stance, inclusive of the traditional understanding of the Torah, ascribed to James, the leader of the Jerusalem community in Acts 15, 21.

33

Ruzer, The Epistle of James 79

times, testify to the centrality of such a perception.36 It can thus be suggested that the predominance of this pattern of thought makes the use of “royal” language with regard to God’s Torah in Jas 1:25 and 2:8 completely logical. Or, as proposed by Leahy: “Since the Mosaic law comes from God, the universal king, it is rightly called royal.”37 But should this usage be seen as originating with the author of the epistle? The appearance of this appellation in James is clearly tailored to providing ammunition against lapses—whether connected to Pauline-type ideas or not—in fulfilling certain Torah commandments. This is the author’s peculiar polemical agenda; the epistle, however, gives no indication that the “royal” designation is derived from the author’s own innovative thinking: it is used in an offhand manner, without any further attempt at explanation or clarification. This in itself may indicate that the author is referring to an existing exegetical tradition, a tradition in which the kingly character of the Torah has already been made explicit and elaborated upon. Is there corroborating external evidence for such a tradition?

As noted, God is routinely called “king” in biblical and post-biblical Jewish sources.38 Yet, in addition to this general tendency, a relatively late tractate, Soferim, perceives God as king specifically in connection with the giving of the Torah to Israel.39 Even if the appearance of the motif here is clearly linked to the tractate’s main issue—that is, the rules for writing a Torah scroll—it seems to reflect an older motif of rabbinic elaboration. Thus, for example, this issue is addressed in m. Ber. 2:2, where the recitation of the Shema (“Hear, O Israel”) prayer is discussed: R. Joshua b. Korhah said: why was the section of “Hear” (Deut 6:4–9 starting with “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one”) placed (in recitation) before that of “And if you 36 For the former idea, see, for example, Exodus 15:18 and Mekhilta de-R. Ishmael ad loc. (ed. S. Horovitz and I. A. Rabin; Frankfurt: Kauffmann, 1928–1931), 150–51. For rabbinic evidence on liturgical usage of the expression “‫מלך העולם‬,” see Soferim 13:7–8; 14:1–2, 7; 20:1; b. Shabb. 137b; b. Meg. 21b; b. Menaḥ. 42b. For early evidence for the use of the latter expression, see m. Avot 3:1; 4:22; t. Sanh. 8:9.

37 See Leahy, “The Epistle of James,” 912. For a completely different appraisal, see B. Reicke (The Epistles of James, Peter, and Jude [AB 37; Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1964], 29), who interprets “kingly” as indicating that the law is the law of Christ (sic!), who is “superior to the Roman emperor.”

38 See Königsherrschaft Gottes und himmlischer Kult im Judentum, Urchristentum und in der hellenistischen Welt (ed. M. Hengel and A. M. Schwemer; Tübingen: Mohr, 1991).

39 Soferim 13:6–7. The composition is usually dated to the period of the geonim.

80 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

will obey my commandments” (Deut 11:13–17)? So that one should first accept upon himself [the yoke of]40 the kingdom of heaven (‫ )]עול[ מלכות שמים‬and then take upon himself the yoke of the commandments (‫)עול מצות‬.

Using the term “kingdom of heaven,” a characteristically rabbinic substitute for the “kingdom of God”—a tendency of which the Matthean usage is usually seen as an early proto-rabbinic example41—the Mishnah claims that the acceptance of/belief in God as the only true king should undergird (precede) Torah observance, with the common term “yoke” appearing or, at least, presupposed in both cases further highlighting the link between the two.

This very motif of Torah’s precepts as reflecting God’s kingdom is invoked, albeit in an indirect fashion, in m. Avot 3:5, the early Tanaitic provenance of which has been lately contested by some scholars.42 Through the use of the term “yoke,” appearing here twice in some manuscripts, the acceptance of the Torah’s demands/kingdom is counterposed to the rule of the worldly kingdom/authorities:43 R. Nehunia b. Hakannah said: whoever takes upon himself the yoke of the Torah (‫)עול התורה‬, the yoke of the [imperial, secular] kingdom (‫ )עול מלכות‬is removed from him, as well as the yoke of everyday concerns/earning a living (‫)עול דרך ארץ‬.

But whoever breaks off from himself the yoke of the Torah, the yoke of the [imperial, secular] kingdom is placed upon him, as well as the yoke of everyday concerns.44 Finally, another Tannaitic source not only combines the motifs found in the above passages from m. Berakhot and m. Avot but also links them to the core principle of the religiously sanctioned behavior outlined in Lev 19:18:

40

So in the Napoli edition, absent in Ms. Kaufman.

See D. Bivin, “Jesus and the Oral Torah: The Unutterable Name of God,” Jerusalem Perspective 5 (1988): 1–2; R. Lindsey, “The Kingdom of God: God’s Power among Believers,” Jerusalem Perspective 24 (1990): 6.

42 See discussion in G. Stemberber, “Mischna Avot. Frühe Weisheitsschrift, pharisäisches Erbe oder spätrabbinische Bildung?” ZNW 96 (2005), 243–258.

43 Cf. Rom 13:1–7.

44 English translations of rabbinic material are my own unless otherwise specified.

41

Ruzer, The Epistle of James 81

“If they were wise, they would understand this, [they would discern their latter end!]” (Deut 32:29) If Israel kept the words of the Torah given to them, no people or kingdom would rule over them. . . . If they only paid attention to what their father Jacob told them: Take upon you [the yoke of] the Kingdom of heaven and emulate one another in the fear of God and practice kindness to one another.45 Two observations are pertinent here: (1) In the rabbinic discussions the kingly status of the Torah is intrinsically connected to the notion of the kingdom of God/heaven, understood as the “existential space” of a person who has accepted God as his only ruler; the demands of God’s Torah are therefore absolutely obligatory.46 (2) It is not only Lev 19:18 but also, and maybe even more prominently, Deut 6:4 (faith in one God) that provide the exegetical foundation for the elaboration of the topic.

In fact, the link between God’s dominion (“Hear, O Israel”) and the obligation to fulfill the commandments is already hinted at in the biblical passage immediately preceding Deut 6:4, which presents the necessary connection between “hearing” and “doing”: “Hear therefore, O Israel, and be careful to do them; that it may go well with you, and that you may multiply greatly, as the LORD, the God of your fathers, has promised you, in a land flowing with milk and honey” (Deut 6:3, cf. Exod 24:7). The idea is further developed, albeit in a slightly different form, in early rabbinic sources.47 Addressing what he perceives as lapses in the observance of important Torah precepts derived from Lev 19:18, James seems to be fully aware of the exegetical connection between the notion of the kingly Torah and the “Hear, O Israel” proclamation in Deut 6:4, which he strives to properly reestablish. This is indicated by the fact that his reasoning is put forward in the same terms of the crucial link between “hearing” and “doing” or, alternatively, between the faith in one God and following his precepts:48

45

Sifre Deut., 323.

For an illuminating comparison with Jesus’ notion of the kingdom, see D. Flusser, “The Kingdom of Heaven,” in idem, Jesus, 104–12.

47 See, for example, m. Avot 1:17.

48 Unlike Rom 1:17, Gal 3:11, and Heb 10:38, the author of James does not employ the verse from Hab 2:4 (“He who through faith is righteous will live” or “The righteous will live thanks to his faith”). See discussion below.

46

82 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

But be doers of the word and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. . . . But some one will say, “You have faith and I have works.” Show me your faith apart from your works, and I by my works will show you my faith. You believe that God is one; you do well. Even the demons believe—and shudder. Do you want to be shown, you shallow man, that faith apart from works is barren? (Jas 1:22; 2:18–20) The lapses the epistle is explicitly reacting to are those of negligence—under the pretence of faith in God’s help—in keeping one’s commitment to the well-being of one’s fellow believer (Jas 2:14–17). Generally speaking, the author’s criticism might have had something to do with Pauline-type ideas undermining, as it were, the emphasis on concrete religious obligations derived from the Torah; but there are no specific indications of that. And, of course, one would not find in Paul’s writings anything like encouragement of the abovementioned negligence.

Whatever the particular setting of the discourse, James’s strategy is to emphasize the link between one’s professed belief in one God and one’s readiness to fulfill the Torah’s precepts; and in this, as we have seen, he anticipates the topical patterns of later rabbinic discussions. It is highly unlikely—as unlikely as in the case of his presentation of Lev 19:18 as the sum total of the Torah—that James was the first to discuss the topic, with later sages following his lead (or reinventing it independently). In light of the absence of the “royal” appellation for the Torah in the Gospel tradition—given all its extensive use of the kingdom of God/heaven language—it is also not probable that James here addresses intra-Christian concerns. It seems much more plausible that the epistle responds to, and thus bears witness to, an existing broader exegetical pattern, of which more fully developed offshoots are found later in rabbinic literature. One may suggest that the topical affinity between James’s noteworthy use of the “royal”/”kingly” appellation with regard to the Torah and the notion of accepting the “yoke” of God’s kingdom and that of the commandments, reflected in rabbinic traditions, turns the epistle into an early witness for this exegetical pattern.

Admittedly, there are in James similarities to the Jesus tradition reflected in the Sermon on the Mount, even if the “royal Torah” motif is not among them. The insistence that “hearing” is not enough, that there is a need to fulfill God’s will, characteristic of Matt 7:21–24, is usually mentioned in this context. It has also been observed that the Shema retains its centrality for

Ruzer, The Epistle of James 83

Matthew, as it does for James.49 However, in my opinion this is not enough to establish a general connection between the Sermon and James, let alone literary dependence. It should be emphasized that the exegetical frameworks differ substantially—the notion of Jesus as a messianic intermediary revealing the ultimate interpretation of God’s Torah, central to Matt 5–7, is completely absent from James’s argumentation. There is thus no particular reason to see James as proceeding—as Matthew seems to have done—vis-à-vis and reacting to an “original” version of the Sermon.50 It is more probable that in James here we rather have a reference to a common topic of early exegetical discourse (adopted

by Matthew also), promoting the proto-rabbinic insistence on the importance of practical—not hypocritical or “external”—expression of one’s faith.51 Torah as the Law of Freedom The presentation of the Torah as the law of freedom is arguably the most conspicuous motif in the first part of the epistle (Jas 1:25; 2:12). The notion of freedom (ἐλευθερία, libertas) was an important one in the Greco–Roman world, and the Jewish Hellenistic philosopher Philo wrote an entire treatise expounding that Every Good Man Is Free.52 However, clear evidence for perceiving the Torah as the law of freedom is lacking in Philo, whereas it is indicated in some rabbinic sources. Thus in m. Avot 3:5, quoted above, R. Nehunia b. Hakannah claims that a person who is ready to accept the yoke of the Torah is freed from enslavement both to political authorities and to the necessities of a mundane existence.

49

See B. Gerhardsson, The Shema in the New Testament (Lund: Novapress, 1996).

As against the evaluation suggested in P. Sigal, “The Halakhah of James,” Intergerini Parietis Septum (Eph. 2:14): Essays Presented to Markus Barth on his Sixty-Fifth Birthday (ed. D. Y. Hadidian; PTMS 33; Pittsburgh, Pa.: Pickwick, 1981), 338–39.

51 The intrinsic link between faith in one God and the commandment to love God “with all one’s heart, with all one’s soul and with all one’s might” is explicitly established in the Shema (Deut 6:4–5); this link was not overlooked by rabbinic tradition. See, e.g., m. Ber. 9:5, where the link is developed in the direction of trials and even martyrdom: “And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. With all your heart—with both of your inclinations, with the good inclination and with the evil inclination. With all your soul—even if he should take your soul (life). With all your might—with all your wealth. Another reading, with all your might—with every measure that he has measured for you, be exceedingly grateful to him.”

52 Philo, Quod omnis probus liber sit (Philo [tr. F. H. Colson and G. H. Whitaker; 10 vols.; LCL; London: Heinemann; Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1929–1962], 9:11–111).

50

84 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

This passage can be seen as one of the key corroborations of the Jewish tradition’s internalization of the concept of freedom, as reconstructed by Shlomo Pines.53 According to his analysis, the notion of freedom as a supreme religious value was foreign to ancient biblical tradition, and it took hold in Jewish thought only later—namely, under the influence of Greco–Roman culture. Jews, however, lacked both real-life experience of (political) freedom and earlier religious reflection on such experience. In consequence, the cultural emphasis on freedom as a fundamental and highly cherished human value was transformed into the aspiration for liberation. So, in m. Avot’s terms, emancipation from enslavement is clearly presented as an objective to strive for, though the Mishnah presupposes that even now there may be individuals who, having liberated themselves from earthly yokes, are, so to speak, living in the kingdom of God.54 This same motif is partially invoked again in Num. Rab. 19:26, this time with explicit reference to the freedom acquired via the Torah: And another reason why it (the Torah) was given in the wilderness is this: As the wilderness is neither sown nor tilled, so if one accepts the yoke of the Torah (‫ )עול התורה‬he is relieved of the yoke of everyday concerns/earning a living; and as the wilderness does not yield any taxes from crops, so (Torah) scholars are free men in this world (‫כך בני תורה בני‬ ‫)חורין‬.

Another rabbinic tradition, found in the last chapter of tractate Avot (generally considered to be a later addition), strives to provide this idea with a proper midrashic backing (m. Avot 6:2): Baraitha: R. Joshua b. Levi said: Every day a bath qol (heavenly voice) goes from Mount Horeb, and thus proclaims: “Woe unto men on account of [their] contempt towards the Torah, for whoever occupies himself not with the [study] of Torah is called ‘[the] rebuked [one]’” . . . and it says, “and the tables were the work of God, and the writing was the writing of God, graven upon the tables” (Exod 32:16). Read not haruth (‫ ָחרות‬, which means “graven”) but heruth (‫ ֵחרות‬, which means 53

See S. Pines, “‫[ על גלגולים של המונח חירות‬On the Metamorphoses of the Notion of Freedom],” Iyyun 33 (1984): 247–65.

54 See discussion in Flusser, Jesus, 106–107, 110.

Ruzer, The Epistle of James 85

“freedom”). For there is no free man for you, but he that occupies himself with the study of the Torah; and whoever regularly occupies himself with the study of the Torah, lo, he is exalted.55 One may say that a somewhat desperate, though undoubtedly resourceful, attempt to “uncover” freedom in the Decalogue core of the Torah aptly illustrates two important remarks made by Pines concerning (1) the desire of late antique Jewish tradition to “domesticate” the notion of freedom, and (2) the absence of clear precedents in the biblical sources. The issue of the exact nature of the freedom given by the Torah (freedom from what or whom?) addressed in the Mishnah is revisited—with a twist—in an early Amoraic midrash (Lev. Rab. 18:3): R. Yochanan said in the name of R. Eliezer the Galilean: When Israel stood at Mount Sinai and said, “All that the Lord had spoken will we do and obey” (Exod 24:7), the Holy One, blessed be He, called the angel of death and said to him: “Even though I made you a universal ruler over earthly creatures, you have nothing to do with this nation. Why?—Because they are My children”—as it is written, “You are the children of the Lord, your God” (Deut 14:1). . . . The same is [indicated in] the verse, “And the tables were the work of God, and the writing was the writing of God, graven (haruth) upon the tables” (Exod 32:16). Read not haruth (graven) but heruth (freedom).

R. Judah and R. Nehemiah and the rabbis [differed on the point]. R. Judah said: freedom from the angel of death; R. Nehemiah said: freedom from [hostile] governments; the rabbis said: freedom from sufferings.

Thus, in addition to the routine “hostile authorities,” liberation from suffering and ultimately death is also posited here. The passage from Leviticus Rabbah, then, marks a collation of motifs attested elsewhere in rabbinic literature; exegetically reading “freedom” into the description of the Decalogue covenant found in Exod 32:16 and elaborating on the nature of the emancipation achieved through succumbing to the rule of the Torah, which in turn is presented as the ultimate liberator. The link between the outlook reflected in m. Avot 3:5 and that 55

Cf. Kallah Rabbati 5:3.

86 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

of Lev. Rab. 18:3 becomes even more explicit if one supposes that both suffering and death could have been perceived by the propagators of the tradition as core aspects of mundane existence.56 Unlike later rabbinic sources, James presents no explicit midrashic elaboration of the Torah of freedom motif; this idea, presupposing the high value placed on freedom, is invoked here as an existing and established concept in no need of polemical defense. The situation thus differs considerably from Paul’s rhetoric in Gal 2:4. Paul’s attitude toward the νόμος is notoriously complicated and cannot be adequately discussed here. Suffice it to say that his evaluations of the Torah of Moses—either positive or negative—seem to undergo change, depending on the nature of the intended audience.57 The specific meanings ascribed to νόμος may also vary correspondingly: in addition to (and in differentiation from) the Torah of Moses, in Paul’s writings νόμος may also stand for a limited set of ritual observances distinguishing Jews from nonJews.

Seemingly, it is in this latter sense that νόμος is counterposed to freedom in Galatians 2. The apostle insists that the Gentile fellow-travelers of the Jesus movement are free from the “works of the law,” most pointedly from the need to undergo circumcision. Whatever place and importance should be ascribed to the passage within the overall picture of Paul’s religious outlook, in terms of his rhetorical strategy here, freedom is intrinsically linked to overcoming submission to the law. It is this thought pattern, combined with the above evidence from m. Avot, that informed Pines’s psychologically tinged explanation of the apostle’s stance. According to Pines, in fact Paul was a party to a general Jewish tendency to emphasize the need for liberation from the various mundane-existence-related “yokes” by means of total submission to the rule of Torah. Only, he did not stop there; he took the task of self-liberation one step further—namely, he called for liberation from enslavement to those (ritual) Torah regulations that were conditioned by the worldly setting.58

56

See discussion on m. Avot 3:5 above. Cf. Rom 5:14; 8:21–22.

See Gager, Reinventing Paul.

58 See Pines, “‫[ על גלגולים‬Metamorphoses].” For the association of the Torah’s ritual regulations with the constraints of mundane existence—namely, being “in body” and belonging to society—see Philo, Migr. Abr. 89–93. Philo’s operative conclusions, however, differ from those of Paul. For a recent discussion of Paul’s attitude toward the Torah’s “external” regulations, see S. Ruzer, “Paul’s Stance on the Torah Revisited: Gentile Addressees and the Jewish Setting,” in Paul’s Jewish Matrix (ed. T. G. Casey and J. Taylor; Rome: Gregorian & Biblical Press, 2011), 75–97.

57

Ruzer, The Epistle of James 87

In light of such an understanding of Paul’s thinking here, it is only natural that James’s definition of the Torah as the law of freedom has been interpreted as the polemical reverse of Paul’s stance. There are, however, strong arguments against such an interpretation: (1) as noted, the Torah of freedom theme is invoked in James as an existing and established one in no need of polemical defense; (2) the commandments that James insists it is necessary to fulfill under the law of freedom have nothing to do with the ritual observance that according to Paul one should be liberated from in order to move from law to freedom.59 These arguments are admittedly not decisive. In principle, it is possible that the epistle is reacting to a somewhat different variation of the motif attested in Galatians—a variation expressing either Paul’s own thought or that of certain “Paulinists.”60 This possibility seems unlikely to me, but it cannot be excluded. In any case, the fact that the Torah-as-liberator/Torah of freedom motif reappears in later rabbinic sources requires explanation. Although the commandments representing the divine law in these sources may differ from those in James, both bear witness to the basic “Torah of freedom pattern.” One possible interpretation would be that, even if James did intend to address some intraChristian tendency he found reproachable, his strategy relied on existing exegetical patterns of broader Jewish circulation. The epistle would then be our earliest witness for a motif otherwise attested only in later rabbinic sources.

Another possibility would be that both James and later the rabbis were responding here to Pauline-type ideas coming from within the Christian movement. This solution presupposes the rejection of Pines’s thesis that the early Jewish “liberation theology” responded to ideas widespread in Greco– Roman culture, and proposes, instead, that it was predicated completely on the Christian challenge.61 This is an intriguing suggestion but, again, in my opinion 59

This last feature has prompted some interpreters to suggest that James in his counterattack completely misunderstood Paul. See M. Dibelius, James: A Commentary on the Epistle of James (ed. H. Koester; trans. M. A. Williams; Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1976), 79–80; F. Hahn, “Genesis 15:6 im Neuen Testament,” in Probleme biblischer Theologie: Gerhard von Rad zum 70. Geburtstag (ed. H. W. Wolff; Munich; Kaiser, 1971), 97; Bartlett, “The Epistle of James,” 178.

60 See Bartlett, ibid. and n. 12 there.

61 An illuminating example of the presentation of some rabbinic developments as conditioned by Christian challenges may be found in I. Yuval, “Easter and Passover as Early Jewish–Christian Dialogue,” in Passover and Easter: Origin and History to Modern Times (eds. P. E. Bradshaw and L. A. Hoffman; Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1999), 98–124.

88 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

not very probable. Yet even if such a possibility is considered, the Epistle of James retains its importance as the first witness for a long Jewish exegetical trajectory, albeit in this case one engendered by Paul.

Abraham as Model of the Observant Believer In his argument favoring deeds as necessary for the validation of faith, the author of James invokes the example of Abraham, linking Gen 15:6 to the offering of Isaac in Gen 22:62 (21) Was not Abraham our father justified by works, when he offered63 his son Isaac upon the altar? (22) You see that faith was active along with his works, and faith was completed by works, (23) and the scripture was fulfilled which says, “Abraham believed God, and it [his deed] was reckoned to him as righteousness” (Gen 15:6); and he was called the friend of God. (24) You see that a man is justified by works and not by faith alone. (Jas 2:21–24) This invocation of Abraham has often been interpreted as meant to oppose Pauline ideas expressed, inter alia, in Rom 4:2–12 (cf. Gal 3:6):64 (4:2) For if Abraham was justified by works, he has something to boast about, but not before God. (3) For what does the scripture say? “Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness.” . . . (6) So also David pronounces a blessing upon the man to whom God reckons righteousness apart from works. . . . (9) Is this blessing pronounced only upon the circumcised, or also upon the uncircumcised? We say that faith was reckoned to Abraham as righteousness. (10) How then was it reckoned to him? Was it before or after he had been circumcised? It was not after, but before he was 62

In Jas 2:25–26, Rahab is mentioned as an additional example of faith expressed in deeds. For a discussion, see Bartlett, “The Epistle of James,” 176–78.

63 The word used here (ἀνενέγκας) has prompted some interpreters to suggest that the author of the epistle might have been aware of the exegetical tradition claiming that Abraham did actually offer Isaac as a sacrificial lamb.

64 See, for example, Bartlett, “The Epistle of James,” 175; and Niehoff, “Implied Audience,” 67–68.

Ruzer, The Epistle of James 89

circumcised. (11) He received circumcision as a sign or seal of the righteousness which he had by faith while he was still uncircumcised. The purpose was to make him the father of all who believe without being circumcised and who thus have righteousness reckoned to them, (12) and likewise the father of the circumcised who are not merely circumcised but also follow the example of the faith which our father Abraham had before he was circumcised.

To my mind, however, some internal features of the Jas 2:21–24 argument indicate that the author of the epistle was not at all “locked into” the specifics of Paul’s polemic as reflected in Romans and Galatians. The whole issue of Gentile members of the Jesus movement and Paul’s argument against their obligation to undergo circumcision—the central theme of the Pauline passages in question— appears nowhere in James. The example of Abraham’s deed-centered righteousness is employed here to promote the same basic demands of the Torah which are derived from the love-your-neighbor precept discussed above— nothing like the ritual demands of Judaism that Paul did not want Gentile believers to embrace. Correspondingly, circumcision does not feature in the description of Abraham’s righteous behavior (“deeds”), being substituted—as the “seal of righteousness”—by the offering of Isaac. In other words, it is not the Gen 15–Gen 17 polemical Pauline trajectory (faith/circumcision) that is elaborated here but rather that of Gen 15–Gen 22 (faith/Akedah).

These internal indications weaken the probability that James’s statement on Abraham is a polemical anti-Pauline move, but they do not completely annul the validity of such an evaluation. As in the cases discussed above, it is possible in principle that James dealt here—albeit in a different setting—with some distant “aftershocks” of Paul’s influence. Yet again, the fact that James, unlike Paul, applies the reasoning from Abraham’s example neither to Christology nor to the Gentile conundrum, but rather to a general topic of Jewish exegetic discourse—the core principles of the Torah and the specific precepts of behavior derived from them—needs to be accounted for. It is thus imperative to check the epistle’s possible points of reference in that discourse.65 In other words, even without reaching a definite conclusion on the question of whether or not the author was acquainted with and troubled by certain elements 65

For an analogous approach to some Pauline traditions, see discussion in M. Kister, “Romans 5:12–21 against the Background of Torah-Theology and Hebrew Usage,” HTR 100/4 (2007): 391–424.

90 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

of Pauline thought, one may still examine the epistle’s value as a witness to existing and developing broader patterns of Jewish exegesis.

Second Temple and early rabbinic sources testify to a clearly apologetic trend that aims to present Abraham, the father of the Israelite nation, as one who had fulfilled Torah obligations long before they were revealed to the people of Israel on Sinai. Ben Sira 44:19–21 provides a characteristic example:66 Abraham was the great father of a multitude of nations, and no one has been found like him in glory; (20) he kept the law of the Most High, and was taken into covenant with him; he established the covenant in his flesh, and when he was tested he was found faithful. (21) Therefore the Lord assured him by an oath that the nations would be blessed through his posterity; that he would multiply him like the dust of the earth, and exalt his posterity like the stars, and cause them to inherit from sea to sea and from the River to the ends of the earth.

The passage combines two important claims regarding Abraham: (1) he kept the Lord’s Torah (with reference to Gen 26:5),67 and (2) he was found faithful68 when he withstood God’s test. In Jubilees, characteristically, Abraham is portrayed as arranging his rites of thanksgiving along the lines of the sacrificial Torah ordinances and thus inaugurating the Feast of Tabernacles (Jub. 16:20–27);69

66

Cf. m. Qid. 4:14.

“Because Abraham obeyed my voice and kept my charge, my commandments, my statutes, and my laws.”

68 Abraham is described as “faithful” (‫ )נאמן‬already in Neh 9:8. His faith, highlighted in Gen 15:6, becomes a focus in Philo, Leg. All. 3.228 (cf. Mut. Nom. 177); Jub. 23:10; b. Meg. 11a. According to Mek. R. Ishmael Be-shalaḥ 3 and 6, it is by virtue of Abraham’s faith that he inherited both this world and the world to come and that God parted the sea for his descendants: ‫כן את מוצא שלא ירש אברהם אבינו העולם‬... ‫בזכות אברהם אביהם אני קורע להם את הים‬ ‫( הזה והעולם הבא אלא בזכות אמנה שהאמין בה‘ שנ‘ והאמין בה‘ ויחשבה לו צדקה‬Gen 15:6).

69 “And he built there an altar to the Lord who had delivered him, and who was making him rejoice in the land of his sojourning, and he celebrated a festival of joy in this month seven days, near the altar which he had built at the Well of the Oath. And he built booths for himself and for his servants on this festival, and he was the first to celebrate the feast of tabernacles on the earth. And during these seven days he brought each day to the altar a burnt offering to the Lord, two oxen, two rams, seven sheep, one he-goat, for a sin offering, that he might atone thereby for himself and for his seed. And, as a thankoffering, seven rams, seven kids, seven sheep, and seven he-goats, and their fruit offerings 67

Ruzer, The Epistle of James 91

moreover, even the Akedah of the Genesis narrative is transformed here into the foundational event of the observance of the Passover festival (Jub. 17:15; 18:3).70 In Jubilees 17:15–18, Abraham is also described as faithful when tested.71 The appellation “faithful”—seemingly an interpretation of Abraham as a man of faith, as stated in Gen 15:6—turns Abraham into a forerunner of Moses, the recipient of the Torah, whom God called “‫נאמן‬, faithful.”72 Deeds are presented in Ben Sira as the true expression/seal of faith, and the “test” clearly refers to the story of the offering of Isaac, which opens in the Bible with the key phrase, “After these things God tested Abraham, and said to him, ‘Abraham!’ And he said, ‘Here am I.’” (Gen 22:1).73 One may note parenthetically that the epistle (unlike Rom 1:17, Gal 3:11, and Heb 10:38) does not employ the verse from Hab 2:4 (‫)צדיק באמונתו יחיה‬, which can be rendered in English as either, “He who through faith is righteous will live,” or “The righteous will live through (thanks to) his faith.” In Qumran, the former interpretation is clearly preferred: (7:14) See, it is conceited and does not give way (15) [ . . . his soul within him]. Blank Its interpretation: they will double and their drink offerings; and he burnt all the fat thereof on the altar, a chosen offering unto the Lord for a sweet smelling savour. And morning and evening he burnt fragrant substances, frankincense and galbanum, and stackte, and nard, and myrrh, and spice, and costum; all these seven he offered, crushed, mixed together in equal parts (and) pure. And he celebrated this feast during seven days, rejoicing with all his heart and with all his soul, he and all those who were in his house. . . . And he blessed his Creator. . . . And he blessed and rejoiced, and he called the name of this festival the festival of the Lord, a joy acceptable to the Most High God.” 70 “And it came to pass in the seventh week, in the first year thereof, in the first month in this jubilee, on the twelfth of this month. . . . And he went to the place on the third day, and he saw the place afar off.”

71 Cf. Jub. 16:18; see also 1 Macc 2:52; 4QPseudo-Jubileesb [4Q226] 7:1; Josephus, Antiquities 1.223 and 233–234. See Bartlett, “The Epistle of James,” 174–75. I am also indebted here to Joshua Tilton; see J. N. Tilton, “The Approval of Abraham in Early Jewish and Christian Sources,” Jerusalem Perspective 2007 (March): www.jerusalemperspective.com/3843/ [accessed January 7, 2014].

72 Num 12:7. Moses is the only person to whom the Pentateuch applies the term.

73 Cf. Philo, Abr. 192, who, while likewise emphasizing Abraham’s faithfulness to the commandments, interprets the Akedah in a strictly allegorical way. For discussion of the Israel forefathers’ representation in Philo, see M. Böhm, Rezeption und Funktion der Vätererzählungen bei Philo von Alexandria: Zum Zusammenhang von Kontext, Hermeneutik und Exegese im Frühen Judentum (BZNW 128; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2005).

92 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

upon them (16) [ . . . and] find [no] mercy at being judged. [ . . . ] (17) [ . . . (Hab 2:4b) But he who through faith is righteous will live. (8:1) Its interpretation concerns all observing the Law in the House of Judah, whom (2) God will free from punishment on account of their deeds and of their faithfulness (3) to the Teacher of Righteousness. (1QpHab 7:14–8:2)74 Faith is thus presented as the underlying principle of Torah observance.75 As a matter of fact, apart from the specific issue of ritual precepts, the same is true with regard to early Christian usage. In addition to the New Testament instances mentioned above, 1 Clement 31:2 also points to such an interpretation: “Why was our father Abraham blessed? Was it not because he wrought righteousness and truth through faith?” Alternatively, Mekilta de R. Ishmael attests to a combination of the notion that if a person, out of faith, fulfills even a single commandment, he is worthy to receive the gift of the Holy Spirit,76 with a complementary motif: as a reward for his unwavering faith in God’s salvation in this world of darkness, he will inherit both this world and the world to come.

Abraham is singled out in the Mekilta as exemplifying the latter kind of faith, with Gen 15:6 quoted as the prooftext.77 It turns out that the faith mentioned in Hab 2:4 is generally perceived in our sources as either belief in salvation or as the right inner stance underlying the fulfillment of commandments. Of course, the two notions are not necessarily unrelated.

To return to the patterns emphasized in Ben Sira, Abraham’s trial/temptation is midrashically expanded in the Mishnah into the motif of ten trials, where the offering of Isaac seemingly provides the culmination.78 On the 74 Cf. 1QHa 8:24–26: “(24) And you, you are [a lenient] and compassionate [God,] slow to anger, full of favor and of truth, who forgives sin [ ] (25) and has pity on the [evil of those who love you] and keep your precepts, those who turn to you with faith (‫ )באמונה‬and a perfect heart [ ] (26) to serve you [and to do what] is good in your eyes.” The English translation of Qumranic material in this paper follows W. G. E. Watson in The Dead Sea Scrolls Translated: The Qumran Texts in English (Electronic Library ed. by F. García Martínez; Leiden: Brill, 1994).

75 See also 1QHa 8:24–26, which stresses the same idea without reference to the verse from Habakkuk; and cf. b. Mak. 24a.

76 See Mek. de-R. Ishmael Be-shalaḥ 6.

77 Ibid.; cf. Mek. de-R. Shimon b. Yoḥai 14.

78 See m. Avot 5:3. For a discussion of the Akedah narrative perception and function in antiquity, see L. Kundert, Die Opferung/Bindung Isaaks (2 vols.; WMANT; Neukirchen– Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1998).

Ruzer, The Epistle of James 93

other hand, Jubilees 17:15–18 already attests to the explicit exegetical link between Gen 15:6 (Abraham’s faith) and Gen 22 (his trials and afflictions): And it came to pass in the seventh week, in its first year, in the first month in that jubilee, on the twelfth of that month, that words came in heaven concerning Abraham that he was faithful in everything that was told him and he loved the Lord and was faithful in all affliction(s). And Prince Mastema came and he said before God, “Behold, Abraham loves Isaac his son.

And he is more pleased with him that everything. Tell him to offer him (as) a burnt-offering upon the altar. And you will see whether he will do this thing. And you will know whether he is faithful in everything in which you test him.” And the Lord was aware that Abraham was faithful in all his afflictions. . . .

And in everything in which he 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. 79 This exegetical link, presenting Abraham’s ability to withstand the trial of offering up his son as conditioned on his faith mentioned in Gen 15, would be further elaborated as witnessed by the Epistle to the Hebrews (11:17–19): “By faith Abraham, when he was tested, offered up Isaac. . . . He considered that God was able to raise men even from the dead; hence, figuratively speaking, he did receive him back.”

Jubilees, furthermore, attests to the early presence of another motif (also found in Philo80) highlighting Abraham as the one who established faith in the one God in Israel: And it came to pass in the sixth week, in the seventh year, that Abram spoke to Terah his father, saying, “O father!” 2 And he said, “Behold, here I am, my son.” And he said: “What help or advantage do we have from these idols before which you worship and bow down? 3 Because there is not any spirit in them, for they are mute, and they are the misleading of the

79

English quote is according to R. H. Charles, The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1913).

80 For Philo’s position, see Niehoff, “The Implied Audience,” n. 33 and the discussion there.

94 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

heart. Do not worship them. 4 Worship the God of heaven, who sends down rain and dew upon the earth, and who makes everything upon the earth, and created everything by his word, and all life is in his presence. 5 Why do you worship those who have no spirit in them? Because they are works of the hands, you are carrying them upon your shoulders, and there is no help from them for you, except great shame for those who made them and the misleading of the heart for those who worship them. Do not worship them.” (Jub 12:1–5) Reinvoking this motif, a Targumic tradition on Gen 49:1–2 that seems to go back to pre-Christian times intrinsically links that faith with deeds, as proclaimed in Deut 6:4–5. Portraying Abraham as the true founder of “monotheistic belief” (in connection with Gen 15?), the Targum also claims that this belief was later successfully transmitted from generation to generation to all of Jacob’s sons—notwithstanding intermittent failures, such as Ishmael and Esau: After the twelve tribes of Jacob had gathered together and surrounded the bed of gold on which our father Jacob were lying, they were hoping that he would reveal to them the order of the blessings, but it was hidden from him. Our father Jacob answered and said to them: “From Abraham, my father’s father, was born the blemished Ishmael and all the sons of Keturah. And from Isaac, my father, was born the blemished Esau, my brother. And I fear lest there should be among you one whose heart is divided against his brothers to go and worship before foreign idols.” The twelve sons of Jacob answered together and said: “Hear us, O Israel, our father; the Lord our God is one Lord.” Jacob answered [and blessed them, each according to his good works] and said: “Blessed be his name; may the glory of his kingdom be for ever and ever.” 81

81

Tg. Neof. to Gen 49:1–2; cf. Exod. Rab. 23:5. See discussion in G. Di Luccio, “An Examination of the Synoptic Problem in the Gospels of Luke and Matthew in Light of the Aramaic Targums to the Pentateuch” (PhD diss., Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 2006), 25–30.

Ruzer, The Epistle of James 95

Abraham as the Beloved of God (φίλος θεοῦ), and the Akedah While we have seen that already in Jubilees Abraham was presented as the founder of the monotheistic faith, we have noted that in the early Targumic tradition this long-standing motif is further elaborated, with Deut 6:4–5 explicitly singled out as the expression of that faith. Since the passage from Deut establishes an intrinsic link between the faith in one God and the commandment to love him “with all one’s heart, with all one’s soul and with all one’s might,” the portrayal of Abraham as the one who truly loves God is only natural. This portrayal is found in Jubilees 17 (quoted above) and is widely attested in rabbinic tradition, inter alia, explicitly in connection to Abraham’s trials, most prominently the Akedah. Thus already in the Mishnah we read: “With ten temptations was Abraham our father tempted, and he stood steadfast in them all, to show how great was the love of Abraham our father.”82 It is thus no wonder that scholars have perceived the application of the appellation “the friend of God/one who loves God” (φίλος θεοῦ) to Abraham in Jas 2:23 as being “within tradition.”83 The traditional connection of trials to faith and to love is likewise highlighted in Jas 1:2–8, 12.

In later rabbinic sources, a variation of the same pattern is found, where Abraham is defined as typifying a “Pharisee of love.” Thus in y. Sotah 5.5 [20c] we read:84 One verse of Scripture says, “And you shall love the Lord your God” (Deut 6:5). And another verse of Scripture says, “You shall fear the Lord your God; you shall serve him” (Deut 6:13). . . . “A Pharisee-out-of-fear,” like Job. “A Pharisee-out-oflove,” like Abraham. And the only one of them all who is truly beloved is the Pharisee-out-of-love, like Abraham. Abraham made the impulse to do evil into good. What is the Scriptural basis for that statement? “And thou didst find his heart faithful before thee” (Neh 9:8). . . . R. Aqiba was on trial before Tonosteropos [Turnus Rufus] the Wicked. The time for

82

M. Avot 5:3; see n. 78 above.; trans. H. Danby (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1933).

The command to love God in Deut 6:5 is interpreted in m. Ber. 9:5 as intrinsically connected to the readiness to stand steadfast in trials, albeit without mentioning Abraham; see n. 51 above.

83 See Sigal, “The Halakhah of James,” 347–48, who quotes Philo (Abr. 31 [170] and 45 [262]), Jub. 19:9, etc., as precedents.

84 Cf. y. Ber. 9.5 [14b]; b. Sotah 22b; t. Sotah 22b.

96 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

reciting the Shema came. He began to recite it and smiled.

[The wicked one] said to him, “Old man, old man! You are either a wizard or you have contempt for pain [that you smile].” He said to him . . . “For my whole life I have been reciting this verse: ‘And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might’ (Deut 5:6). I loved God with all my heart, and I loved him with all my might. But with all my soul until now was not demanded of me. And now that the time has come for me to love him with all my soul, as the time for reciting the Shema has arrived, I smile that the occasion has come to carry out the verse at that very moment at which I recite the Scripture.”

According to this tradition, Abraham is the prototype of a “Pharisee-of-love.”

For him, the fulfillment of the commandments is associated with the right disposition of the heart and complete trust in God—even in the face of imminent martyrdom. The parallel to R. Akiva’s “loving suffering” indicates that the fundamental connection to Abraham’s tests and trials, most prominently the Akedah, is also made here, as in the Mishnaic passage quoted earlier.

It may be observed that the Epistle of James, occupying with regard to its dating a position midway between Second Temple and rabbinic sources, collates most of the Abraham-centered motifs found before and/or after its time in the broader Jewish tradition. The only substantial component of the above thematic elements that is absent from the epistle (and indeed from the whole early spectrum of surviving Jewish writings) is the “Pharisee-of-love” motif. The epistle thus becomes an important witness for the history of this cluster of exegetical patterns.

Conclusion The analysis of the Epistle of James suggested in this paper exemplifies the insights that can be gleaned from viewing its exegetical strategies within the context of contemporaneous Jewish concerns. In fact, even if the question of the epistle’s setting, including the possible context of an anti-Pauline sentiment within the Jesus movement, should remain undecided, such a reframing has compelled a reevaluation of the letter and its objectives. The passages discussed here lack unambiguous indications of the above sentiment, and I am therefore inclined to see them as primarily addressing exegetical patterns of broader Jewish circulation. However, even if the solution of intra-Christian polemic is

Ruzer, The Epistle of James 97

preferred, it appears that James might have “grafted” existing motifs—while reworking them—into his exegetical design, as conditioned by the particular polemical situation. If these motifs can be isolated, they will provide evidence for certain general trajectories in the development of Jewish exegesis. Such input should be especially anticipated when the New Testament traditions in question are devoid of a Christological agenda.85 Two exegetical motifs, conspicuous in the first two chapters of the epistle, were chosen as test cases: (1) Torah as the “perfect royal law of freedom,” and (2) Abraham as an outstanding example of a righteous man whose faith is expressed in the deed of the Akedah. In both cases, James’s reasoning seems detached from Christological or explicitly eschatological concerns; and as noted, neither can any clearly polemical link to Paul’s ideas be discerned here. I have discussed relevant exegetical patterns from Second Temple Jewish writings, as well as traditions attested in rabbinic, mainly Palestinian, sources. With regard to the “royal” designation of the Torah and the perception of the Torah as the true liberator, I have pointed out a topical proximity to certain tendencies in rabbinic thought, which suggests that the epistle may be an early witness to an exegetical trajectory already existing in its day but otherwise attested only from the time of the Mishnah.

In its portrayal of Abraham, the epistle collates most of the motifs used by a variety of texts, of both Second Temple and rabbinic provenance, to cast the patriarch as the prototype of the truly just man, whose faith in and love of the One God find their expression in the ultimate deed—his readiness to offer Isaac as a sacrifice. On the other hand, the epistle does not introduce here any peculiar Jesus-centered sub-motifs unattested in these other sources. Together with the Targum, the Epistle of James provides important evidence for an early exegetical linkage between Abraham’s belief as expressed in Gen 15:6 and the expression of God’s unity in Deut 6:4.

The impressive “piling on” of various motifs may be seen as characteristic of the epistle’s composition. It should be emphasized, however, that in James the “collage” of exegetical motifs is mobilized to promote the fulfillment of commandments derived from Lev 19:18—with no eschatological/messianic reevaluation of their meaning. Even if the author of the epistle did react to some distant offshoots of Pauline ideas, in his response he seems to have relied completely on existing exegetical patterns of broader Jewish circulation and may thus be seen as a key witness to their early history.

85

But see Niehoff, “The Implied Audience of the Letter of James,” for a different take on the lack of Christological agenda.

98 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

A comparison with the study of the Dead Sea Scrolls is instructive here.

Scholars have aspired to develop methods that would make it possible to distinguish—even within an individual scroll—between belief patterns characteristic of the group that produced the text and those shared with “wider Judaism.” Thus the scrolls, remaining the most important source for the study of the peculiar phenomenon of Second Temple Jewry they seem to represent, are also recognized as a crucial resource for achieving better understanding of some characteristic Jewish trends of broader circulation. This important insight invites a parallel critical reassessment of the “witness value” of the traditions formed within the nascent Jesus movement. Whereas some of the motifs found in the texts produced within this movement clearly represent its peculiar outlook, others may possibly reflect Jewish religious patterns of broader circulation.

www.jjmjs.org

Heresy Without Orthodoxy: Josephus and the Rabbis on the Dangers of Illegitimate Jewish Beliefs Jonathan Klawans Boston University | jklawans@bu.edu JJMJS No. 1 (2014): 99–126

Introduction This paper presents two related arguments regarding the Jewish origins of later Christian heresiology.1 First, I suggest that an “incipient heresiology,”2 justifiably comparable to what we find in early Christian sources, can be discerned in Josephus’s works. Second, I put forward evidence—from Josephus and early rabbinic literature—suggesting that earliest Jewish instances of targeted theological condemnation appear independently of any drive toward theological orthodoxy. If either of these arguments proves to be at all compelling, the history of Jewish heresiology—only recently rewritten with an eye toward arguing for Christian influence on Judaism in this respect—may need to be re-rewritten.3 1

Earlier versions of this paper were presented at the World Congress of Jewish Studies, Jerusalem (August 2013); the Ancient Judaism Workshop, Yale University (November 2013); and the Religion Department Faculty Colloquium, Boston University (March 2014). I benefited from helpful questions, comments, and suggestions raised by those in attendance at each of these readings. I am also thankful for helpful and provocative feedback offered by an anonymous reviewer for this journal. The journal’s editors offered additional helpful advice.

2 This phrase is used in conscious dialogue with Daniel Boyarin, who speaks of an “incipient” form of orthodoxy among the rabbis: “Rethinking Jewish Christianity: An Argument for Dismantling a Dubious Category (to which is Appended a Correction of my Border Lines),” JQR 99.1 (2009): 7–36 (esp. 20). Boyarin is at this point of his article offering a brief summary of the thesis of his earlier book, Border Lines: The Partition of Judaeo-Christianity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004).

3 It is Boyarin who has argued most forcefully for Christian influence on Judaism in this respect, especially in Border Lines. More recently, Boyarin took one significant step back from his earlier, bolder claim, acknowledging the difficulties of supposing that the influence of Christian heresiology could be felt already in the Mishnah (“Rethinking Jewish Christianity,” esp. 33–36).

100 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

As we will see below, Josephus’s understanding of ancient Jewish theological diversity was bounded by his fears—not all unfounded—that certain religious beliefs could motivate or justify behavior he considered dangerous.

This dynamic emerges already in Jewish War, with Josephus’s recognition that dangerous behavior could be motivated by certain afterlife beliefs. In Antiquities, Josephus also expresses concerns about the Epicurean denial of divine providence. But the dynamic appears most pointedly in Josephus’s condemnatory description of Judas the Galilean’s rebellious “Fourth Philosophy” (Ant. 18.4–10, 23–25; cf. War 2.117).4 Without a doubt, Josephus’s account of the Fourth Philosophy has been unduly overlooked, particularly by those who are interested in the development of Jewish (and Christian) heresiology.5 For the present purposes, the following definition of “heresiology”6 is offered: the rhetorical/literary construction of a religious sub-group’s identity in order to isolate, condemn, and even demonize.7 4

Though problematic in many respects, the fullest general treatment of the “Fourth Philosophy” remains Martin Hengel, The Zealots: Investigations into the Jewish Freedom Movement in the Period from Herod I until 70 A.D. (trans. David Smith; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1989). For an early classic critique, see Morton Smith, “Zealots and Sicarii: Their Origins and Relations,” HTR 64.1 (1971): 1–19. One recent work provides an important (but only partial) reconsideration: Mark Andrew Brighton, The Sicarii in Josephus’s Judean War: Rhetorical Analysis and Historical Observations (EJL 27; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2009). Further literature cited below.

5 There are exceptions: Martin Goodman, “The Function of Minim in Early Rabbinic Judaism,” in Geschichte—Tradition—Reflexion: Festschrift für Martin Hengel zum 70 (ed.

H. Cancik, H. Lichtenberger, and P. Schäfer; 2 vols.; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996), 1:501–10; reprinted in Goodman, Judaism in the Roman World: Collected Essays (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 163–73; quote from 164–65: “The closest [Josephus] comes to condemning one type of Judaism as heresy was in his description of the so-called ‘Fourth Philosophy.’”

See also Robert M. Royalty, Jr., The Origin of Heresy: A History of Discourse in Second Temple Judaism and Early Christianity (New York: Routledge, 2013), esp. 86.

6 To be clear, the interest here is in the phenomenon of heresiology, not usages of the term αἵρεσις (whether in Josephus or elsewhere). For an analysis attuned to both concept and term, see Michel Desjardins, “Bauer and Beyond: On Recent Scholarly Discussions of αἵρεσις in the Early Christian Era,” The Second Century: A Journal of Early Christian Studies 8.2 (1991): 65–82, esp. 73–79. See also Marcel Simon’s classic (and oft-cited) study, “From Greek Hairesis to Christian Heresy,” in Early Christian Literature and the Classical Intellectual Tradition: In Honorem Robert M. Grant (ed. William R. Schoedel and Robert L. Wilken; Paris: Éditions Bauchesne, 1979), 101–16.

7 Admittedly, this definition may be broader or looser than that used by others. Some definitions of heresiology are distinctly Christian, though most speak of isolation,

Klawans, Heresy Without Orthodoxy 101

As we will see, by this definition, the earliest ancient Jewish evidence for this phenomenon is not to be found in the rabbinic condemnations of minim8 (or those who believe “two powers in heaven”9) nor even in m. Sanhedrin 10:1.10 The earliest verifiable Jewish instance of a heresiological impulse directed against a named sub-group is Josephus’ account of the Fourth Philosophy in Antiquities 18.4–10, 23–25.11

condemnation, and demonization. See, for example, Royalty, Origin of Heresy, esp. 3–4, and J. Rebecca Lyman, “Heresiology: The Invention of ‘Heresy’ and ‘Schism,’” in The Cambridge History of Christianity, Volume 2: Constantine to C. 600 (ed. Augustine Casiday and Frederick W. Norris; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 296– 313, esp. 296–97. Compare Boyarin, Border Lines, 66: “Both Justin and the Mishnah were engaged in the construction of the borders of orthodoxy via the production of others who are outside them.” I am aware that the word “theology” is absent from this brief working definition. Most discussions of heresy assume the significance of theology, and I do not disagree. But Christian heresiological discourse is also, albeit not equally, concerned with condemning illicit practices and transgressions (see, e.g., Epiphanius, Panarion, Proem, 1.2, 3; 2.3, etc.).

8 For a recent rethinking of minut in Judaism, see Adiel Schremer, Brothers Estranged: Heresy, Christianity, and Jewish Identity in Late Antiquity (New York: Oxford, 2010), and also “Wayward Jews: Minim in Early Rabbinic Literature,” JJS 64.2 (2013): 242–63. For a helpful general survey of some key sources, bibliography and issues, see Philip S. Alexander, “Jewish Believers in Early Rabbinic Literature (2d to 5th Centuries),” in Jewish Believers in Jesus: The Early Centuries (ed. Oskar Skarsaune and Reidar Hvalvik; Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 2007), 659–709.

9 The rabbinic condemnation of the belief in “Two Powers” has long been viewed as an early rabbinic heresiological discourse, though there is little agreement on what precisely is being condemned. A classic treatment remains Alan F. Segal, Two Powers in Heaven: Early Rabbinic Reports about Christianity and Gnosticism (Leiden: Brill, 1977). For more recent discussions, see Boyarin, Border Lines, 134–39, and “Beyond Judaisms: Metatron and the Divine Polymorphy of Ancient Judaism,” JSJ 41.3 (2010): 323–65, esp. 324–29; and Schremer, “Midrash, Theology, and History: Two Powers in Heaven Revisited,” JSJ 39.2 (2007): 1–25.

10 On m. Sanh. 10 in light of heresiology, see Boyarin, Border Lines, 58–63, and see further below.

11 I am not yet prepared to trace the full construct as defined here back any further, whether to earlier Second Temple Jewish literature (which I know rather well) or to Greco-Roman historiographic or philosophical literature (which I know less well). For one attempt to trace the ingredients of heresiology—but not the full construct—to earlier Jewish sources, see Royalty, Origin of Heresy, esp. 30–52. For an attempt to root Christian heresiology within Hellenistic philosophical discourse in a second century Roman setting, see Lyman, “2002 NAPS Presidential Address: Hellenism and Heresy,” JECS 11.2 (2003):

102 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

Once we identify and clarify these heresiological aspects of Josephus’s concerns, we will begin to see a number of ways in which Josephus’s approach can be compared with, and seen as a prefiguration of, the approaches taken by later Tannaim.12 These similarities include a general concern with the dangerous nature of certain afterlife beliefs (or disbeliefs), as well as the targeted effort to utilize heresiology (as understood above), in the absence of orthodoxy, for the purpose of establishing a looser, vaguer theological consensus.

At the same time, this comparison between Josephus and the Tannaim allows us, in turn, to sharpen the comparison (and contrast) between Josephus and the later Christian heresiologists. It will not be argued here that Josephus is comparable to, say, Hippolytus in any general sense. The suggestion, rather, is narrower: what we find full-blown in (and central to) Hippolytus can be found, 209–22. For an attempt to root Jewish and Christian heresiological discourse in earlier Greco-Roman philosophical discourse see Shaye J. D. Cohen, “A Virgin Defiled: Some Rabbinic and Christian Views on the Origin of Heresy,” USQR 36.1 (1980): 1–11 (esp. 6– 8). Scholars will continue to debate which of Josephus’s backgrounds and contexts (Greco-Roman or Jewish, Diaspora or Jerusalem) were more influential on him. It is safest to allow that Josephus (just like later Christian writers) was likely influenced by both Jewish and Greco-Roman discourses. Be this as it may, for the present purposes, what matters more is the fact that Josephus’s works (or at least portions of them) influenced various patristic writers (arch-heresiologist Hippolytus among them). For a survey, see Heinz Schreckenberg and Kurt Schubert, Jewish Historiography and Iconography in Early and Medieval Christianity (CRINT III.1; Assen: Van Gorcum 1992), esp. 1–85 (by Schreckenberg). On Hippolytus’s use of Josephus, see Klawans, Josephus and the Theologies of Ancient Judaism (New York: Oxford, 2012), 223–28, and the additional literature cited there. This verifiable stream of influence underscores the significance of grappling with whatever heresiological impulses and concerns we may find within Josephus’s works.

12 While I compare the approaches of Josephus and the Tannaim, I do not believe there is any discernible trace of direct influence of Josephus on the Mishnah or other early rabbinic sources. This is not to suggest that the comparisons are random; the similarities attest to the cultural contiguity between Josephus’s Jewish (and, quite possibly, Pharisaic) milieu and the rabbinic worldview that began to flourish a short while later. Even so, the possibility of Josephan influence (direct or indirect) on later rabbinic literature cannot be completely precluded; see Richard Kalmin, Jewish Babylonia between Persia and Roman Palestine (New York: Oxford, 2006), esp. 43–60, 75–80, 149–72. Vered Noam, on the other hand, argues that the discernible parallel traditions attest to common sources shared by both Josephus and the rabbis; see “Did the Rabbis Know Josephus’ Works?”

[Hebrew], Tarbiz 81 (2013): 367–95 (English abstract p. xviii). For arguments concerning Josephus’s (possibly Pharisaic) prefigurations of later rabbinic approaches, see Klawans, Josephus and the Theologies, esp. 137–209.

Klawans, Heresy Without Orthodoxy 103

here and there, and in a partial, targeted form in Josephus. But this argument for significance and influence ought not be misconstrued as direct, full-fledged comparison. The comparison being suggested here is between Josephus and the rabbis, for whom (it is here argued) heresiological concerns are present in incipient form, even if minimally (in relative comparison to Josephus’s overall historical and the rabbis’ overall legal concerns), and without orthodoxy (in contrast to, again for example, Hippolytus).

Josephus’s Concerns with Dangerous Doctrines The Afterlife: A Possibly Hazardous Hope We begin with what may be Josephus’s earliest quasi-heresiological foray: the recognition of a correlation between social behavior and afterlife beliefs that peppers Jewish War.13 Josephus leaves readers of the entire work with little doubt regarding the persuasive power of such beliefs. Early in War (in the golden eagle episode), the two teachers encourage revolt with the assertion that those who die for the sake of the ancestral laws will attain immortality (1.648– 650).14 Ostensibly recalling the commitment of Essenes martyred during the revolt, Josephus describes these heroes smiling in their agony, certain of their immortality (2.152–153).15 And later in War, Titus too charges his soldiers to fight to the death with such hopes of a guaranteed afterlife (6.46–49).16 And, perhaps most memorably, the leader of the Sicarii at Masada encourages his followers to kill their wives, children, and themselves by speaking of the afterlife (7.320–388).17 Clearly, Josephus is well aware of the motivating power of such beliefs, and is sensitive to the possibility that leaders could encourage—or even manipulate—their followers by speaking of such beliefs.18

13

For a recent thorough review, see C. D. Elledge, Life after Death in Early Judaism: The Evidence of Josephus (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006).

14 Ibid., 64–67.

15 Ibid., 57–59; see also Steve Mason (with Honora Chapman), Judean War 2: Translation and Commentary (BJP 1b; Leiden: Brill, 2008), 121–23.

16 Elledge, Life After Death, 73–75.

17 Ibid., 69–73; see also Brighton, The Sicarii, 105–31.

18 This theme is developed with regard to these texts and some others in Klawans, Josephus and the Theologies, 92–136. To be sure, none of the speeches here (the two teachers’, Titus’s or Eleazar’s) are historical facts, and we need not posit even kernels of historical truth here and there. It makes no difference whether or not Josephus is recording actual instances of such motivation or manipulation. What matters is that Josephus clearly believed such motivation and manipulation were possible.

104 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

Josephus, in his Jotapata speech against suicide (War 3.364–375), suggests that those who take their own lives will go to hell and calls on such fears to motivate his listeners to turn away from suicidal action:19 (3.374) Do you not know that they who depart this life in accordance with the law of nature and repay the loan which they received from God, when He who lent is pleased to reclaim it, win eternal renown? That their houses and families are secure; that their souls, remaining spotless and obedient are allotted the most holy place in heaven, whence, in the revolution of the ages [ἐκ περιτροπῆς αἰώνων] they return to find in sanctified bodies a new habitation [ἁγνοῖς πάλιν ἀντενοικίζονται σώμασιν]? (375) But as for those who have laid mad hands upon themselves, the darker regions of the nether world receive their souls, and God, their father, visits upon their posterity the outrageous acts of the parents.

Now in most respects, the views Josephus articulates in this passage are comparable to those he attributes to the Pharisees in War (2.163; cf. Ant. 18.16) or to the Jews in general in Apion (2.218): this is a beatific afterlife, reserved for the righteous, that involves a re-embodiment at the end of days.20 Yet in one important respect, Josephus’s speech at Jotapata also recalls what he has said about the Essene belief in immortality and post-mortem punishment: Just as the hope for immortality should encourage righteous behavior, so too the fear of hell should discourage evil behavior (e.g., War 2.156–157):21 (156) . . . their aim was first to establish the doctrine of immortality of the soul, and secondarily to promote virtue and to deter from vice; (157) for the good are made better in their lifetime by the hope of a reward after death, and the passions of the wicked are restrained by the fear that, even though they 19

Translations of Josephus here and below follow LCL (ed. H. St. J. Thackeray et al.), with modifications for style and content. The available volumes of the BJP translation and commentary (ed. Steve Mason) have been consulted both in print form and via the PACE website.

20 On these passages, see Klawans, Josephus and the Theologies, esp. 106–11; cf. Elledge, Life after Death, 59–63, 67–69.

21 Trans. LCL (Thackeray). On Josephus’s recognition of the utilitarian nature of these beliefs, see also Mason, Judean War 2, 127–128 nn. 972–973 ad loc., to War 2.156–157.

Klawans, Heresy Without Orthodoxy 105

escape detection while alive, they will undergo never-ending punishment after their decease.

It may be tempting to dismiss such statements as pithy pietisms; but we do so at the peril of our own analysis. The beliefs in heaven and hell matter for Josephus—just as for the later rabbis (see below)—and for this very reason: in a general sense, these beliefs encourage righteousness and discourage transgression. But dangers arise especially when demagogues manipulate these hopes and fears.

Now as noted already above, Eleazar, in his speech at Masada advocating suicide, similarly motivates his followers by an appeal to immortality (War 7.320–388; esp. 341–357). But there is an important, infrequently noted variable here: Eleazar presumes in his speech that the gifts of immortality are available to one and all who break bodily bonds. The award of immortality comes, apparently, irrespective of sins, for the group’s many transgressions have already been catalogued for us by Josephus (7.254–258), with the guilt being admitted by Eleazar himself (7.332–333).22 Of the various detailed descriptions of Jewish immortality beliefs that Josephus presents in War—regarding Essenes (War 2.154–157), Pharisees (2.163), or even Josephus himself (3.374–375)—Eleazar’s is striking in failing to balance the hope of heaven with a fear of hell. His is a vision of unconditional immortality.23 Josephus, of course, leaves us with no doubt of his evaluation of the Sicarii: they were the first to adopt kin-killing practices in pursuit of their rebellious ideology (7.254–258). In other words, the most pioneering and dangerous rebels are those without fear of post-mortem divine retribution.

So already in War, Josephus is keenly aware that afterlife beliefs can be manipulated to dangerous ends. Moreover, he fears that those who—like Eleazar—believe that death is better than life and who live without any fear of hell will be too quick to kill others and themselves. Quite possibly, Jewish readers24 are meant to understand that the sinful, murderous, and suicidal rebels

22

See the fuller treatment in Klawans, Josephus and the Theologies, 117–19, 129–36.

See Elledge, Life after Death, 64–67 for his discussion of what he terms “conditional immortality” (p. 66). Tellingly, Titus’s speech (War 6.46–49) also fails to balance a belief in immortality with a fear of hell.

24 I believe, along with what I perceive to be the current consensus position, that a Jewish readership is included in Josephus’s intended audience. See Klawans, Josephus and the Theologies, 4–5 and the literature cited there.

23

106 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

from Masada will end up suffering the hellish punishment they refuse to acknowledge; we will return to this notion later.

The Epicureans: A Dangerous Denial We turn next to the very end of Antiquities 10, which brings us closer to heresiology properly speaking. Toward the end of his discussion of the prophet Daniel, Josephus takes a moment to condemn the erroneous beliefs of the Epicureans (10.277–281):25 (277) All these things, as God revealed them to him [Daniel], he left behind in his writings, so that those who read them and observe how they have come to pass must wonder at Daniel’s having been so honored by God, and learn from these facts how mistaken are the Epicureans, (278) who exclude providence [πρόνοια] from human life and refuse to believe that God governs its affairs or that the universe is directed by a blessed and immortal being, to the end that the whole of it may endure, but they say that the world runs by its own movement [αὐτομάτως] without a knowing guide or another’s care. (279) If it were leaderless in this fashion, it would be shattered through taking a blind course {or: by unforeseen destruction} and so end in destruction, just as we see ships go down when they lose their helmsmen or chariots overturn when they have no drivers. (280) It therefore seems to me, in view of the things foretold by Daniel, that they are very far from holding a true opinion who declare that God takes no thought for human affairs. For if it were the case that the world goes on by some automatism, we should not have seen all these things happen in accordance with his prophecy.

(281) Now I have written about these matters as I have found them in my reading; if, however, anyone wishes to judge otherwise of them, I shall not object to his holding a different opinion.

Josephus here puts forward the claim that Daniel’s ability to predict precisely when certain events would occur disproves the contentions of the Epicureans.

25

Trans. LCL (Ralph Marcus). On this passage, see, esp. Christopher T. Begg and Paul Spilsbury, Judean Antiquities 8–10 (ed. Steve Mason; BJP 5; Leiden: Brill, 2005), 265–66, 313–17; see also Klawans, Josephus and the Theologies, esp. 81–89.

Klawans, Heresy Without Orthodoxy 107

They maintain: “the world runs by its own movement without knowing a guide or another’s care” (278). But such a world, like a pilotless ship, would inevitably end in destruction. God’s ability, however, to bring about Daniel’s prophecy at the proper time proves that the world is rightly guided, in real time, by a providential pilot.

We have here the explicit identification of an illegitimate belief, along with the implication that such a belief could be dangerous. The Epicureans, Josephus is suggesting, are not just wrong, but dead wrong. They fail to understand how the world really works, and therefore are likely to badly misjudge their surroundings—and even mislead those who would follow their guidance.

Even though Josephus continues in this passage to allow for disagreement on this key issue (Ant. 10.281), Josephus’s present politeness is mitigated elsewhere. Indeed, the introduction of Antiquities suggests (though without using the term “providence”) that belief in God’s caring justice is the main lesson of the book, and that such a belief should motivate proper behavior (1.14–15, 20):26 (14) Speaking generally, the main lesson to be learned from this history by any who care to peruse it is that people who conform to the will of God, and do not venture to transgress laws that have been excellently laid down, prosper in all things beyond belief, and for their reward are offered, by God, felicity; while, in proportion as they depart from the strict observance of these laws, things (otherwise) practicable become impracticable, and whatever imaginary good thing they strive to do ends in irretrievable disasters. (15) At the outset, then, I entreat those who will read these volumes to fix their thoughts on God. . . .

(20) . . . God, as the universal Father and Lord who beholds all things, grants to such as follow Him a life of bliss, but involves in dire calamities those who step outside the path of virtue.

26

Trans. LCL (Thackeray). On providence in Josephus, see Harold W. Attridge, The Interpretation of Biblical History in the Antiquitates Judaicae of Flavius Josephus (Harvard Dissertations in Religion 7; Missoula, Mont.: Scholars Press, 1976); on the prologue to Antiquities in particular, see 41–42, 51–54, 67–70.

108 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

Three general themes emerge here: divine guidance, personal responsibility, and divine justice (cf. 4.180–183; 8.125–129). These themes appear in various guises throughout Antiquities, and the correlation between providence and earthly punishment for the wicked is emphasized at various points (e.g., 8.314; 17.170; 17.354; 18.127; 19.16; cf. War 1.82; 1.593; 7.451–453). But what matters here in particular is the special connection between prophecy and providence. Toward the end of book 8, commenting in the doubly predicted, duly deserved death of Ahab, Josephus notes that “nothing is more beneficial than prophecy and the foreknowledge [πρόγνωσις] that it gives, for in this way God enables us to know what to guard against” (Ant. 8.419). In other words, prophecy and providence point in the direction of righteousness and reward.27 These are clues for reading beyond Josephus’s politeness in Antiquities 10.281: the proverbial (and pilotless) Epicurean boat is sailing in the wrong direction, risking destruction. Heresiology this is not, but some of its ingredients are present: an identifiable belief is condemned as wrong and aligned with danger.

Be this as it may, the passage is less heresiological in other respects than some assume. Several scholars believe that Josephus’s “Epicureans” are a cipher for the Sadducees.28 This understanding rests on interpreting Antiquities 10 in light of Apion 2.179–181, which speaks of a broad Jewish consensus to the effect that God guides the world providentially:29 (179) To this cause above all we owe our admirable harmony [ὁμόνοιαν]. Unity and identity of religious belief, perfect uniformity [συμφωνίαν] in habits and customs, produce a very beautiful concord in human character. (180) Among us alone will be heard no contradictory statements about God, such as are common among other nations, not only on the lips of ordinary individuals under the impulse of some passing mood, but even boldly propounded by philosophers; some putting 27

See Klawans, Josephus and the Theologies, 83–85.

So, e.g., Lawrence H. Schiffman, Who Was a Jew: Rabbinic and Halakhic Perspectives on the Jewish-Christian Schism (Hoboken, N.J.: Ktav, 1985), 44. See discussion in Klawans, Josephus and the Theologies, 53, and n. 76, where the following examples are cited: Begg and Spilsbury, Judean Antiquities 8–10, 315 nn. 1181–1182; Feldman, Josephus’s Interpretation of the Bible (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), 192; Mason, Judean War 2, 134 nn. 1014–1015; Mason, Life of Josephus: Translation and Commentary (BJP 9; Leiden: Brill, 2001), 16–17 n. 72; Mason, Josephus, Judea, and Christian Origins: Methods and Categories (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 2009), 225–26, 230.

29 Trans. LCL (Thackeray).

28

Klawans, Heresy Without Orthodoxy 109

forward crushing arguments against the very existence of God; others depriving Him of His providential care [πρόνοια] for humankind. (181) Among us alone will be seen no difference in the conduct of our lives. With us all act alike, all profess the same doctrine about God, one which is in harmony with our Law and affirms that all things are under His eye. . . .

Knowing that the Sadducees deny fate (Ant. 13.173), are we meant to read Antiquities 10.277–281 as an oblique exclusion of the Sadducean view?

We will get nowhere if we refuse to follow Josephus’s hints. Josephus, however, does not equate fate and providence (like the Stoics) but carefully distinguishes between them (like middle-Platonists and Gnostics).30 Therefore, the Sadducean denial of fate is not equivalent to the Epicurean denial of providence. To deny providence is to deny the fundamental point of Jewish scriptures, which Josephus’s Sadducees do uphold.31 So the Epicureans in Josephus are not Sadducees in disguise; the Epicureans are, simply enough, those who deny providence and fear no divine punishment whatsoever, whether earthly or other-worldly. And as we have seen, Josephus has already expressed his concern that those who are fearless of divine punishment may be wont to commit evil.

The Fourth Philosophy: An Early Jewish “Heresy” Heretofore we have established that concerns about dangers arising from certain theological tenets recur in Josephus’s writings. In Jewish War, Josephus is particularly concerned with the motivational powers of afterlife hopes. Those whose priorities are in the right place (such as the Essenes) can be properly motivated by such hopes. But others (such as the Sicarii) risk being led astray by motivational demagoguery. In Antiquities, Josephus is particularly concerned with the belief in divine providence. Here too the historian hopes his readers will believe in God and fear divine wrath (be it in this world or the next). The Epicureans stand out for condemnation for their refusal to accept this message.

With these observations behind us, we can now more clearly appreciate a

30

See Klawans, Josephus and the Theologies, 63–64.

When Josephus claims, in Ant. 16.398, that human responsibility has been discussed “philosophically” in the Law, this is likely referring to his general belief (as articulated in Ant. 1.14–15, 20–23) that biblical history proves that God is watching, and will reward the righteous and punish the wicked. Josephus’s Sadducees would have believed in this sort of providence and justice, by virtue of their acceptance of the Torah (Ant. 13.297).

31

110 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

number of the distinctively heresiological features of Josephus’s condemnatory description of the Fourth Philosophy in Antiquities 18.4–10, 23–25.

Heresiology, by our understanding, extends beyond any general concern with particular dangerous beliefs by (1) constructing a given subgroup’s identity around said dangerous beliefs; and (2) doing so in ways that facilitate isolation, condemnation, and even demonization. As we will see, these general characteristics are in evidence here, often in ways that surprisingly presage the rhetorical and even terminological features of later Christian heresiological discourse.

Josephus’s description of the Fourth Philosophy falls into two parts. In Antiquities 18.4–10, Josephus introduces the group’s founder, Judas,32 and his Pharisaic supporter Zadok (18.4). After describing their rebelliousness and the movement’s growth among the populace in generally unfavorable terms (18.5– 8), Josephus proceeds to lay the nation’s ruin at the feet of their “intrusive [ἐπείσακτον] fourth philosophy” (18.9). This group, or course, stands in contrast to the three schools that have characterized Jewish thought from ancient times (18.11): the Pharisees (18.12–15), Sadducees (18.16–17), and Essenes (18.18– 22).33 Following this review, Josephus returns to the Fourth Philosophy once again, and presents a cumulative description of this group’s beliefs (18.23–25):34 (23) As for the fourth of the philosophies, Judas the Galilean set himself up as leader of it. This school agrees in all other respects with the opinions of the Pharisees, except that they have a passion for liberty that is almost unconquerable, since they are convinced that God alone is their leader and master.

They think little of submitting to death in unusual forms and permitting vengeance to fall on kinsmen and friends if only they may avoid calling any man master. (24) Inasmuch as most people have seen the steadfastness of their resolution amid such circumstances, I may forgo any further account. For I have no fear that anything reported of them will be

32

In Antiquities 18.4 this Judas is identified as a Gaulanite; in Ant. 18.23, War 2.118 (and also Acts 5:37) this Judas is identified as a Galilean; the latter epithet is more commonly used to identify him.

33 On Josephus’s accounts of the three schools in Antiquities (and their parallels in War 2.111–166), see Klawans, Josephus and the Theologies.

34 Translation follows LCL (Feldman); edited in light of the translation and analysis in Hengel, The Zealots, 77–78.

Klawans, Heresy Without Orthodoxy 111

considered incredible. The danger is, rather, that report may minimize the indifference to the misery of suffering they have accepted. (25) By this folly [ἀνοίᾳ] the nation began to be afflicted [νοσεῖν] after Gessius Florus, who was governor, had by his overbearing and lawless actions provoked a rebellion against the Romans.

Here too Josephus leaves no doubt that the group was dangerously innovative, breaking with tradition in such a way as to sow the seeds of the nation’s destruction.

But what are this group’s dangerous innovations? In most matters, we are told, the Fourth Philosophy agrees with the Pharisees.35 But Josephus explicitly identifies two important ways in which their views are distinctive.

First, they believe that “God alone is their leader and master” (18.23).36 Second, their fearlessness of death leads to not only risking their own lives (this would be comparable to the Essenes and others, as we have seen), but permitting vengeful bloodshed on their own countrymen (18.23).37 But there is a third important difference relating to these: while the properly named three schools (Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes) have characterized Jewish religious thought from time immemorial (18.11), Josephus deems the Fourth Philosophy to be novel and innovative. Alone among the sects, this group has a single named founder, situated in the recent past, whose rebellious ways stem from neither scripture nor tradition. It is precisely this characteristic—dangerous innovation—that puts this group (but not the others) outside of the national/traditional consensus Josephus speaks of in Apion. It is not the Sadducean denial of fate that is excluded from the national consensus. What’s excluded is the Fourth Philosophers’ proclivity for innovation and their penchant for internecine strife.38

35

Contrast War 2.118, which suggests (implausibly) that the school was utterly unlike the others in all or most respects; this passage proceeds to briefly explain the group’s key distinctions: rebelliousness and a refusal to accept human masters.

36 On this aspect of their beliefs, see the exhaustive treatment in Hengel, Zealots, 90–110, as well as the more recent review in David Goodblatt, Elements of Ancient Jewish Nationalism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 88–99.

37 See Hengel, Zealots, 85–86.

38 Notably, in Apion, Josephus follows his celebration of Jewish unity with the assertion that Jews lack innovators—stability and continuity being celebrated as virtues (Apion 2.182–183).

112 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

Scholars are rightly skeptical of Josephus’s construction: only he uses the term “Fourth Philosophy.” And it is difficult even to find clear external verifications for the independent existence of coherent named sub-groups such as the Zealots or the Sicarii, let alone a singular “Fourth Philosophy.”39 What is more, Josephus’s own narrative of the revolt—which gives roles to Pharisaic and even (possibly) Essene leaders—militates against the veracity of Josephus’s claim that there was a distinct rebellious philosophy so easily separable from the others. As is widely suspected, the isolation of this group likely reflects Josephus’s effort to direct blame away from many and onto a few.40 But perhaps Josephus’s greatest prevarication involves his effort to establish the group’s distinctive novelty by denying their characteristic ideas any basis in scripture or tradition.41 Although we cannot be certain, it stands to reason that any historical fourth philosopher would have appealed to scripture for justification, citing passages such as Judg 8:22 and 1 Sam 12:12, which oppose monarchy on theological grounds: only God is rightly the king. Josephus, of course, does not allow for any such understanding of the group—both of these passages being elided in Josephus’s own biblical paraphrase (Ant. 5.232; 6.91).42 And as Hengel and Feldman both have noted already, Josephus carefully rewrites the Phinehas episode (Num 25:1–19) so as to downplay the role of zeal (Ant. 4.150–164) in his violent actions.43 Josephus also carefully revises 1 Maccabees’ account of the rise of Mattathias (Ant. 12.265–285 // 1 Macc. 2:1–70) so as to elide the references to Phinehas’s zeal, thereby once again undermining

39

See Smith, “Zealots.” It is in this important respect that Josephus’s account of the Fourth Philosophy is truly distinct from his descriptions of Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes. We can easily confirm these other groups’ existence; and the accuracy of Josephus’s descriptions of these groups can be tested (and, I believe, confirmed) by comparison with this other evidence. By these standards, Josephus’s account of the Fourth Philosophy compares poorly.

40 Smith, “Zealots,” 5; Cohen, Josephus in Galilee and Rome (Leiden: Brill, 1979), 181–83; cf. Cohen, From the Maccabees to the Mishnah (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1987), 157–59; Israel Ben-Shalom, The School of Shammai and the Zealots’ Struggle against Rome [Hebrew] (Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 1993), 19–20, 130–31; Goodblatt, Elements, 89.

41 In this respect, Hengel’s classic remains particularly useful, in so far as he collects various evidence for rooting these perspectives within the Jewish tradition; see The Zealots, esp. 90–110; Goodblatt also assembles evidence in favor of biblical (and Hasmonean) justifications for priestly rule and zeal (Elements, 87–107).

42 See Klawans, Josephus and the Theologies, 164.

43 Hengel, Zealots, 154–55; Louis H. Feldman, “The Portrayal of Phinehas by Philo, Pseudo-Philo, and Josephus,” JQR 92.3/4 (2002): 315–45, esp. 332–33.

Klawans, Heresy Without Orthodoxy 113

the likely claims of religiously motivated rebels to root their kin-killing vengeance in scripture and history.44 Josephus thereby furthers his own goals, which are to (mis-) characterize this group’s views and behavior as dangerously novel. Because they are the very enemies of the national/traditional consensus that Josephus holds dear, he therefore carefully denies them any scriptural or traditional legitimacy. The Fourth Philosophy, rather, remains an illegitimate actualization of the self-serving sophistry of its founder, Judas the Galilean.

Some will no doubt remain interested, first and foremost, in the task of figuring out how we can read behind Josephus’s elisions to reconstruct the views of the historical Fourth Philosophers.45 But such efforts are hampered by the case we are building here, to the effect that Josephus’s account displays a consistent desire to delegitimize the group by characterizing it as recent, innovative, and well-defined. On the other hand, and for all the same reasons, Josephus’s creatively hostile account of the Fourth Philosophers should be playing a greater role in discussions of Jewish heresiology. After all, Josephus appears to be following—or, as far as we can tell, establishing—the heresiology rule-book. Josephus is constructing an identifiable group, characterized by distinct, erroneous theological positions; he is providing a label for it, identifying a “Johnny come lately” putative founder, and carefully denying the group legitimate roots in scripture or tradition.46 Indeed, anticipating Epiphanius and Irenaeus, Josephus depicts the fourth philosophy as a contagious illness of folly.47 And while the group is not deemed “satanic” as some Christian heretics will be, Josephus nevertheless depicts the Fourth Philosophy as having brought

44

Hengel, Zealots, 154–55; Feldman, “The Portrayal of Phinehas,” 318–19, 327–28.

In addition to Hengel, Zealots, those interested in these questions can consult Goodblatt, Elements, and Ben-Shalom, School of Shammai.

46 It is in this respect that we can clarify the difference between a claim of supersession and the charge of heresy. Supersession asserts for one’s own group legitimate novelty (in the form of fulfillment), and criticizes the rejector(s) as old and outmoded. The charge of heresy, by contrast, attributes to other(s) illegitimate and incorrect innovation, reserving legitimate antiquity for one’s own group.

47 I do not want to push terminological or metaphorical coincidences too far, but it remains interesting to note that Irenaeus speaks of heresy as “madness” or “folly” (ἀνοίᾳ; Against Heresies, preface 2), just what Josephus says of the Fourth Philosophy (Ant. 18.25). And Epiphanius’s conception of the “medicine chest” (πανάριον) is presaged by Josephus’s speaking of the Fourth Philosophy as a contagious illness (18.6: ἀνεπλήσθη; 18.25: νοσεῖν).

45

114 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

the nation to ruin, which is about as demoniacal as things can get in Josephus.48 Those who view constructing and characterizing groups in order to deny legitimacy and highlight danger as having developed in Christian contexts and coming to Judaism only later will need to reconsider.49 Heresy and Consensus in Josephus Here we come to the other side of the coin. Having established that Josephus’s presentation of the Fourth Philosophy exhibits certain characteristic traits of later Christian heresiology, we now must grant that Josephus’s full description of ancient Jewish theological discourse—when we include all four groups— presents to us a vision of inclusion and exclusion that is different from the “orthodoxy/heresy” model that characterizes early Christian discourse on these matters. But the difference is not black-and-white: what we find in Josephus, importantly, is neither liberal nor pluralistic. Josephus’s Judaism is not an unbounded “tolerant” “polymorphy” of “multiform” sectarian options.50 What we find, rather, is a developed conception of heresy, but without a developed orthodoxy.51 There is a single condemned Jewish group, excluded for threatening the integrity of the people as a whole. But this threat is not purely social; the threat is, for Josephus, perceived to be theologically-driven. Yet not all theological diversity is seen as this dangerous. The Sadducees are treated differently: they are distinct, sorely mistaken, and disliked, but they pose no danger and so remain within the theological bounds. Other theological discretions (such as denying providence or post-mortem punishments for the wicked) are also singled out for condemnation, without attributing them to a 48

According to Royalty, the rhetoric of demonization is integral to the discourse of heresy (Origin of Heresy, 111–12; cf. 26, 174).

49 E.g., Boyarin, Border Lines, 49–54; see also Schremer, Brothers Estranged, 49–68.

Despite their various disagreements, Boyarin and Schremer agree, at least, that the prerabbinic Jewish evidence is largely devoid of heresiological discourse. As far as the rabbis are concerned, Boyarin finds more early evidence than Schremer allows, and argues for a stronger influence of Christianity on what is found.

50 For “tolerance” (and “liberal”) see Goodman, “Function of Minim,” 164–65; for “polymorphy,” “polyform,” and “multiform,” see Boyarin, “Beyond Judaisms,” 323, 325, 326 (etc.); for “pluralism” see Alexander, “Jewish Believers,” 666 (and esp. n. 15).

51 So Goodman (“Function of Minim,” 164–65) is partially correct: Josephus is somewhat accepting of difference, but there’s greater evidence of heresiology in Josephus than he allows, and therefore less tolerance or liberalism than he asserts. And therefore there is more to compare (and less contrast) between Josephus and the rabbis, as I have argued elsewhere (principally in Josephus and the Theologies), and will continue to suggest below.

Klawans, Heresy Without Orthodoxy 115

single well-defined group of Jews. So not all identified subgroups merit targeting; not all theological discretions can be tied to distinct sub-groups. Therefore, what we find with regard to Josephus’s critique of the Fourth Philosophy is heresy without orthodoxy. The condemnatory construct appears essentially in full, but without any clear “drive towards a single voice” that is, too often, believed to be the sine qua non for the appearance of heresy.52 To understand and appreciate this, we must return, again, to Apion 2.180–181 and Josephus’s celebration of Jewish consensus. While some scholars have endeavored to separate (and find contradictions between) Apion and Antiquities,53 a better approach is that taken by Apion’s recent commentator, John Barclay: there is more commonality than difference, and both passages can be understood to exclude the Fourth Philosophy, and it alone, from the larger Jewish consensus on those matters that are of supreme importance.54 To be clear: I do not believe Josephus’s description of the Jewish consensus is free of problems. Certainly, tensions remain: in Apion 2.217–219, Josephus writes of afterlife beliefs in terms that surely Sadducees would reject. In Apion 2.182–183, Josephus speaks of an innovator-free Jewish society, as if legal change had never taken place (this in apparent contradiction with the details provided throughout Antiquities).55 Nor do I believe that the consensus presumed in Apion 2 is historically accurate—it cannot be any more historically accurate than the historian’s problematic isolation of the Fourth Philosophy as

52

See Boyarin, “One Church; One Voice: The Drive Towards Homonoia in Orthodoxy,” Religion & Literature 33.2 (2001): 1–22, quoted favorably in Schremer, “Thinking about Belonging in Early Rabbinic Literature: Proselytes, Apostates, and ‘Children of Israel,’ or: Does It Make Sense to Speak of Early Rabbinic Orthodoxy?” JSJ 43.2 (2012): 249–75, esp. 274.

53 In addition to works cited above with regard to Antiquities 10 and the Sadducees, see also Boyarin, Border Lines, 53.

54 See Klawans, Josephus and the Theologies, 292–93 nn. 154–155; John M. G. Barclay, Against Apion: Translation and Commentary (ed. Steve Mason; BJP 10; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 270–71 nn. 704, 707, 711; cf. also Goodman, “Function of Minim,” 164.

55 On legal change in Josephus, see Klawans, Josephus and the Theologies, 137–79; on Apion in relation to this, see 173–77. The apparent contradiction can be resolved (as I argue there) by understanding the difference between illegitimate, individual legal innovation (rejected in Apion) and legitimate legal change put forward by rightful leaders and adopted by consensus (as accepted in Antiquities). For example, when the Maccabees decide to fight on the Sabbath, this new, reasonable ruling is accepted by the people; see Ant. 12.272–277 (cf. 1 Macc. 2:29–38); Josephus and the Theologies, 153–58.

116 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

the lone, singular, group outside of this consensus.56 Neither of these Josephan constructs—the Fourth Philosophy in Antiquities and the consensus in Apion— withstands the kind of scrutiny that relies on external verification. Indeed, just as we should continue to wonder if the Fourth Philosophy existed as such, so too we should not assume that there was necessarily any such common denominator consensus, however construed, whether recognized as such (as Josephus suggests) or waiting to be discerned by scholars, along the lines of Sanders’ “covenantal nomism.”57 But all of these concessions do not free us from the obligation to grapple with Josephus’s claim that there was—or, better, ought to have been—such a consensus. Even if the claim is historically invalid, we still need to appreciate the fact that Josephus was a firm believer in the idea of the fundamental unity of the Jewish people, which was manifest, in his view, by the consensus he describes in Apion.

For Josephus, Jewish unity could tolerate a limited range of diversity— and so he does spend a relatively small amount of his time explaining the important differences between the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes. But the consensus could only stretch so far. And it certainly cannot extend to include those who reject the legitimacy of broadly accepted leaders or exhibit a willingness to kill their own in the service of their distinctive ideology. These views are, Josephus believes, threatening to the integrity and security of the Jewish people. So the Fourth Philosophy is described in such a way as to suggest clear, coherent boundaries, internal cohesion, late origins, and illegitimate— indeed dangerous—beliefs. It stands alone, the one amalgamated Jewish “heresy” excluded from a somewhat vague—and equally constructed—Jewish consensus.

Heresy and Consensus in Rabbinic Literature Even if not historical, Josephus’s accounts are historically significant. The overall dynamic in evidence here—a targeted assault on a catch-all constructed subgroup, set apart from a loosely constructed broad “consensus”—is, I suggest, pretty much what we find among the Tannaim. Space will not permit listing, developing, and evaluating all of the possible parallels, but a few pertinent points can be raised to demonstrate the value of comparing Josephus with the later rabbis with respect to the emergence of “heresy” in the absence of “orthodoxy.”

56

Just as the “heresy” Josephus constructs is, it becomes clear, a “catch-all” category for all the rebels, so too the “consensus” he constructs is a “miss-much” construct for characterizing ancient Judaism.

57 E. P. Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism: A Comparison of Patterns of Religion (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1977).

Klawans, Heresy Without Orthodoxy 117

The Heretics of M. Sanhedrin Perhaps the most important Tannaitic text concerning rejected beliefs is m.

Sanhedrin 10:1. While the significance of this source for these questions has always been appreciated, the similarities with Josephus have not been fully (or accurately) recognized. This text too (especially when we consider the fuller content of m. Sanhedrin 10:1–3) can be understood as one that hovers between a theologically “pluriform” “orthopraxy” (on the one hand) and “incipient orthodoxy” (on the other).58 What we have in m. Sanhedrin 10:1 is a text that asserts general points of consensus, targeting as dangerous a few select (and, once again, falsely amalgamated) opponents of said consensus:59 (10:1) {All Israelites have a share in the world to come, for it is written, “Thy people also shall be all righteous, they shall inherit the land forever . . .” (Isa 60:21).}60 And these are they that have no share in the world to come: he that says that there is no resurrection of the dead {prescribed in the Law,}61 and 58

For the text as representative of “orthopraxy” see David M. Grossberg, “Orthopraxy in Tannaitic Literature,” JSJ 41.4/5 (2010): 517–61; as for “incipient orthodoxy,” see Boyarin, Border Lines, 58–63; cf. “Rethinking,” 20–21 (“incipient” used there). Though Grossberg disagrees with Boyarin in so far as the heresiological implications of m. Sanh. 10:1 are concerned, both agree that there is some rabbinic evidence of such concerns: what Grossberg does not find in m. Sanh. 10:1 he finds in other texts, preserved in the Tosefta and Seder Olam, which he claims were the more heresiological precursors of the rather “orthoprax” Mishnah.

“Multiformity” and “polymorphy” are, according to Boyarin, what we are supposed to find when we don’t find heresiology (“Beyond Judaisms,” 325–26; 359–60).

59 Translations here and below based on Herbert Danby, The Mishnah: Translated from the Hebrew with Introduction and Brief Explanatory Notes (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1933). I have used the Hebrew edition of Chanoch Albeck: Shishah Sidre Mishnah (6 vols.; Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1952–1958). This has been compared against extant manuscripts (esp. MS Kaufmann) via the Online Treasury of Talmudic Manuscripts, http://jnul.huji.ac.il/dl/talmud/index.htm [accessed August 20, 2014].

60 For a brief discussion of the text-critical problems see Grossberg, “Orthopraxy,” 520 n.

7. Almost all agree that the statement (included in all printed editions) “All Israel . . .” is a late addition to m. Sanh. 10:1, as it is lacking in MS Kaufmann and other early versions.

Louis Finkelstein nevertheless defended the Pharisaic antiquity of the tradition, speculating that it originally stemmed from an earlier recension of Avot; see Introduction to the Treatises Abot and Abot of Rabbi Nathan [Hebrew] (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1950), 104–7, 212–26 (esp. n. 2).

61 This phrase too is lacking in MS Kaufmann; see previous note, and, again, Grossberg, “Orthopraxy,” 520 n. 7.

118 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

[he that says] that the Law is not from Heaven, and an Epicurean. . . .

Granting the text-critical problems, we will for our purposes set aside the opening assertion that “all Israel has a place in the world to come.”62 As for what surely comes from m. Sanhedrin 10:1: by one reading, the concerns with resurrection, Torah from heaven, and Epicureanism are three prongs of a single effort to label Sadducees as schismatic heretics who currently are, and therefore eternally will remain, outside the bounds of the Jewish people.63 But doing so pushes this text further than it goes.

First, there is nothing distinctively Sadducean about denying resurrection.64 Second, Epicureans (who deny providence) are not Sadducees, whether for Josephus (as we have seen above) or for the rabbis.65 And as for those who deny that “Torah is from Heaven”—this too seems phrased in such a way as to exclude something other than the Sadducean position. What scripturesupporting Sadducee would deny the position as phrased?66 At the same time, the weakness of the stated threat for Sadducean (and other) resurrection-deniers in particular must be acknowledged:67 those who do not believe in this reward, the rabbis warn, will not get it. From the perspective of the resurrection-denier, this threat is pretty empty. There’s absolutely no 62

Even so, it is worth noting that this statement is, above all else, an assertion of the essential, eternal unity of the Jewish people. And even after we disregard the opening statement as a post-Tannaitic gloss, the overall effect of m. Sanh. 10:1 remains much the same: if the exclusions from the World to Come are so named (and so limited), then presumably, the rest are included.

63 E.g., Boyarin, Border Lines, 58–63; cf. Grossberg, “Orthorpaxy,” esp. 549. The influential treatment by Schiffman is also pertinent: Who Was a Jew, 41–46. Operating on a different plane, Aharon Shemesh has discerned an anti-Sadducean polemic in other portions of Mishnah Sanhedrin: “The Dispute Between the Pharisees and the Sadducees on the Death Penalty” [Hebrew], Tarbiz 70.1 (2000): 17–33 [English abstract, p. v].

64 In fact, elsewhere, minim deny resurrection: e.g. Gen. R. 14.7; see Stuart Miller, “The Minim of Sepphoris Reconsidered,” HTR 86.4 (1993): 377–402, esp. 386–92.

65 See, e.g., Sifre Numbers § 112, on Numbers 15.30 (ed. Horovitz, 121).

66 See Abraham Joshua Heschel, Heavenly Torah: As Refracted through the Generations (ed., trans. Gordon Tucker; New York: Continuum, 2007), 369–70, 376, cf. 403 (and cf.

Schiffman, Who Was a Jew, 43, who grants that in this case something other than the Sadducean view is countered); contra Boyarin, Border Lines, 58–60.

67 Cf. Schremer, “Thinking about Belonging,” 269–70, 274–75, and Grossberg, “Orthopraxy,” esp. 518–19 (who suggests that the concern here is not with belief, per se, but with the public statements they make).

Klawans, Heresy Without Orthodoxy 119

impact on the immediate social level, for no one is excommunicated in this world. And one can safely wonder what impact declaring other-worldly excommunication would have on those who deny the afterlife.68 So not only is m. Sanhedrin 10 not focused on Sadducees—who aren’t mentioned—the one exclusion that does pertain to them constitutes a very weak tool for condemning them, from their perspective. The exclusion is really more of a smug internal reassurance. Believers themselves are reassured not to worry, for those deniers of resurrection will, in the end, suffer the logical consequences of their non-belief.

So just like Josephus, m. Sanhedrin 10 is focused more on countering Epicureans than Sadducees. In both we find criticisms of the Sadducees, but these criticisms stop short of full exclusion. At the risk of stretching things too far, Josephus’s insinuations regarding the Sicarii strike me as prefiguring the rabbis’ insinuations regarding the Sadducees: Josephus suggests that Eleazar and his minions at Masada will suffer the hell they fail to fear; m. Sanhedrin warns that the Sadducees will not merit the reward they fail to anticipate. If this comparison seems forced, we can retreat to a clearer parallel: Tannaitic sources assert repeatedly that the belief in providence and the fear of retribution (earthly and post-mortem) will help motivate the performance of proper behaviors (e.g., m. Avot 1:3; 1:7; 2:1; 2:14–16; 3:1; etc.), just as Josephus too suggested (War 2.156–157; Ant. 10.277–281).

The parallels between Josephus and early Tannaitic material extend beyond their afterlife hopes and their similarly ambivalent non-exclusionary criticism of the Sadducees. Analyses that remain focused on m. Sanhedrin 10:1 miss the opportunity to recognize how Josephus’s excoriation of kin-killers is echoed in the very next passage (m. Sanh. 10:2): (2) Three kings and four commoners have no share in the world to come. The three kings are Jeroboam, Ahab and Manasseh. R. Judah says: Manasseh has a share in the world to come, for it is written, “And he prayed unto him . . .” (2 Chron 33:13). They said to him: He brought him again to his kingdom, but he did not bring him to the life of the world to come. The four commoners are Balaam, Doeg, Ahitophel and Gehazi.

68

According to Alan Segal, the empty threat here is “private ironic humor”: see Life After Death: A History of the Afterlife in the Religions of the West (New York: Doubleday, 2004), 606, 613.

120 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

Josephus was focused on the recent past, while the rabbis purport to be concerned with the distant past. Even so, it is notable that the three kings singled out for exclusion were monarchs who not only “caused Israel to sin” (1 Kgs 14:16; 15:30; 21:22; 2 Kgs 21:11) but also engaged in warfare and bloodshed against other Israelites: Jeroboam took Israel into rebellion (1 Kgs 12:2–33); Ahab’s queen Jezebel slaughtered prophets and Naboth (1 Kgs 18:4; 21:7–14); and Manasseh filled Jerusalem with blood (2 Kgs 21:16) and, according to later tradition, murdered the prophet Isaiah as well.69 Granted, this particular criterion cannot apply across the board in m. Sanhedrin, especially to the various commoners, like Balaam and Gehazi, doomed to perdition.70 Yet the three kings’ behaviors are quite like those of Josephus’s kin-killing “Fourth Philosophy”: leaders of civil strife, who threatened to bring the nation to ruin.

And we do well to look further as well (m. Sanh. 10:3): (3) The generation of the Flood have no share in the world to come, nor shall they stand in the judgment. . . . The generation of the Dispersion have no share in the world to come. . . . The men of Sodom have no share in the world to come. . . . The spies have no share in the world to come. . . . The generation of the wilderness have no share in the world to come. . . . The company of Korah shall not rise up again. . . . The Ten Tribes shall not return again. . . .

Again, no single behavioral or theological common denominator pertains throughout. Yet the concern to condemn consensus-breakers applies perhaps to the spies, certainly to the company of Korah, and perhaps also to the Ten Tribes (who followed the sinful rebellious Jeroboam excluded earlier). To be sure, by this point, the exegetical interests of the passage have shifted, and the exclusions mentioned are no longer focused on afterlife per se. For what it is worth, the theme of consensus breakers applies without a doubt to the group receiving sustained legal analysis through the remainder of the chapter: the people of the

69

On rabbinic traditions concerning these kings’ murderous (and other) transgressions, see b. Sanh. 102a–103b; cf. m. Avot 5:18 (on Jeroboam, citing 1 Kgs 15:30). On Isaiah’s martyrdom, see, e.g., b. Sanh. 103b, 2 Baruch 64:1–10, and Ascension of Isaiah.

70 I remain intrigued by R. Travers Herford’s suggestion that the named individuals in this chapter—Balaam, Doeg, Ahitophel, and Gehazi—are understood as ciphers for, respectively, Jesus, Judas, Peter, and Paul; see Herford, Christianity in the Talmud and Midrash (London: Williams & Norgate, 1903), 48, 61, 63–71, 97–103.

Klawans, Heresy Without Orthodoxy 121

rebellious city (m. Sanh. 10:4–6; Deut 13:14–19)—though by this point, the discussion has transitioned back to issues raised in m. Sanhedrin 9:1.71 Still, we find in m. Sanhedrin 10:1–3, as in Josephus, a focus on condemning those who have fostered or participated in rebellious behavior threatening the integrity of the people. And with regard to the kings and some others, crimes include internecine bloodshed as well.

So the Sadducees are disliked, but not fully condemned, by both Josephus and the Mishnaic sages. And both Josephus and the Tannaim direct their targeted exclusionary efforts elsewhere, on internecine warriors (within the Jewish ranks) and Epicureans (wherever they may be).

Of course the rabbis exhibited some interest in other targets as well.

Above all, we must acknowledge the evidence (which appears outside of m.

Sanhedrin 10:1–3) regarding the rabbinic effort to exclude the rather elusive category of minim.72 Efforts to narrowly identify the minim in general or the “Two-Powers” minim in particular have failed to take hold. Certainly, no group of people called themselves minim or professed faith in “Two Powers in Heaven” in so many words. Rather, it is clear that both the general category and the subgrouping are constructed catch-all referents, which may have included, at one time or another, varieties of (Jewish-) Christians, (Jewish-) Gnostics, Samaritans, Jewish skeptics—even Gentiles.73 Moreover, the rabbinic category appears to have shifted or developed over time,74 and the rabbis’ concerns include not just beliefs but practices as well.75 These difficulties regarding the rabbis’ minim highlight the fact that the category is rather analogous in this one important respect to Josephus’s “Fourth Philosophy”: these two rhetorically constructed groups are identifiable only in so far as they are excluded from the vaguely 71

The reference to “world to come” in the printed editions of 10:4 is widely recognized as an erroneous gloss (and does not appear in MS Kaufmann or other important early versions).

72 The literature on minim (and related terms) is vast. Many of the key sources are collected and analyzed in Segal, Two Powers, and (before that) Herford, Christianity. The key texts and academic debates are covered economically in Alexander, “Jewish Believers.” For a recent survey and reconsideration, see Schremer, “Wayward Jews.”

73 On the ambiguities/imprecisions in rabbinic usages of minim (and “Epicureans”) see (e.g.) Miller, “The Minim,” esp. 377–78, 386–92; and Goodman, “Function of Minim,” 166–71. Schremer, Brothers Estranged (esp. 49–86) associates the category with Jews who have lost faith in God altogether; Schremer, “Wayward Jews,” associates the term with Jews who have placed themselves outside of the rabbinic community.

74 See Richard Kalmin, “Christians and Heretics in Rabbinic Literature of Late Antiquity,” HTR 87.2 (1994): 155–69.

75 See Schremer, “Wayward Jews,” esp. 252–55.

122 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

defined consensus that is supposed, otherwise, to exist. Again, whatever is excluded, it’s heresy—meaning a de-legitimated excluded group characterized by suspicious and dangerous beliefs and practices. This heresy is constructed on the constructors’ terms, and named accordingly. And in both cases, the construction of a catch-all category of heresy does not go hand-in-hand with the definition of a narrow, unified orthodoxy.

The Consensus of m. Avot It remains now to suggest that there are also important similarities between Josephus and the later rabbis regarding consensus (as opposed to orthodoxy). To that effect, we can compare the vague, hopeful, and unhistorical assertion of unity in Apion with the rabbis’ curiously selective perusal of history in tractate Avot.76 The plain text of Avot presents the history of the Jewish tradition as one continuous consensus.77 Continuity over time is not interrupted by crisis (the two destructions go unmentioned) nor diluted by divergence (no sects or subgroups are mentioned). Contrary to popular opinion, Avot is neither antipriestly nor anti-Sadducean. For all that is often said about the alleged exclusion of priests from the transmission of Torah from Sinai to the sages,78 any such exclusion is both incomplete and potentially to the priesthood’s benefit. In fact, named priests are included in the complete chain of succession: Simeon the Righteous (Avot 1:2) is usually understood to have been a (high) priest. Yosi ben

76

On Avot in general, and in light of its third-century Greco-Roman and Christian contexts in particular, see especially Amram Tropper, Wisdom, Politics, and Historiography: Tractate Avot in the Context of the Graeco-Roman Near East (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004). Versifications of this tractate vary; references here follow Albeck.

77 Both Boyarin (Border Lines, 74–86) and Tropper (Wisdom, Politics, 208–40) compare Avot to Christian constructions of apostolic succession; Boyarin attributes to Avot a greater heresiological power than Tropper grants. The following analysis aligns more with Tropper’s. See also Cohen, “A Virgin Defiled,” 3–4.

78 E.g., Boyarin, Border Lines, 76–77; Moshe David Herr, “Continuum in the Chain of Torah Transmission” [Hebrew], Zion 44 (1979): 43–56 (esp. 48); Finkelstein, Introduction, 9–13; and Peter Schäfer, “Rabbis and Priests, or: How to Do Away with the Glorious Past of the Sons of Aaron,” in Antiquity in Antiquity: Jewish and Christian Pasts in the Greco-Roman World (ed. Gregg Gardner and Kevin Osterloh; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 155–72 (esp. 166–68). For a more moderate view, see Tropper, Wisdom, Politics, 213–14 n. 11. Curiously (and ambiguously) Boyarin asserts in this regard that “pre-rabbinic texts do include priests” (Border Lines, 77). Tropper (Wisdom, Politics, 225 n. 55) more precisely notes: “no pre-rabbinic source preserves a succession list or a concept of succession as found in Avot.”

Klawans, Heresy Without Orthodoxy 123

Yoezer (Avot 1:4) is elsewhere referred to as one of the “pious of the priesthood” (m. Hagigah 2:7), and Joshua ben Perahiah (Avot 1:6) is later remembered as having burned a red heifer (Sifre Zutta 19:3 [ed. Horovitz, 302]). In addition, the exclusion of priests as a class from the earlier part of the list is actually to later priests’ benefit: To be sure, by virtue of their inclusion, prophets, elders, and the men of the great assembly are given an important historical role in the transmission of “Torah.” But that same inclusion that bestows historical significance confers, at one and the same time, contemporary irrelevance. The judges, elders, prophets, and men of the great assembly are of the past, as deceased as the individual named sages who follow. The exclusion of priests from the first part of the list opens the possibility for inclusion in transmission later, and in the future. And all this is to say nothing of what is perhaps even more important: the content of the traditions themselves. From the world resting on temple service (Avot 1:1), to Hillel’s emphatic admonition to “be disciples of Aaron” (1:12), through R. Simeon’s reference to the “crown of the priesthood” (4:13), to the ten miracles that occurred in the temple (5:5), Avot is as priestly as Simeon the Righteous.

And as for the Sadducees: It is “Torah” (not Oral and Written Torah) that comes to Moses from Sinai and is passed on—so there is nothing affirmed in m. Avot 1:1 regarding Torah that a Sadducee would deny. Yes, there is a single tradition attributed to Eleazar ha-Moda’i excluding some (though not Sadducees) from the world to come (3:11)—but, as we have already asked, what effect would that exclusion have on those who deny this doctrine? We can better appreciate the stance of Avot by drawing a contrast with the fuller targeted condemnation of the Sadducees that appears in Avot de Rabbi Natan A 5 (ed.

Schechter, 13a–b). In the later text we find the Sadducees depicted as a recent group with a nameable, creative, and sorely mistaken founder who lived in the late Second Temple period (Antigonus of Socho’s disciple, Zadok). In all these respects, this construction of Sadducean origins employs the same heresiological strategies Josephus employed in his construction of the Fourth Philosophy.79 But a reader of Avot would hardly know that the Sadducees even exist, let alone be able to identify them as schismatics traceable to any given founder or datable to any particularly late period in history.

Without denying the tractate’s polemic for patriarchal power (particularly in Avot 1:1–2:4),80 it must be said that Avot as a whole is striking for 79

Avot de Rabbi Natan A 5 differs from Christian heresiological parallels as it does not demonize the Sadducees; see Cohen, “A Virgin Defiled,” esp. 4.

80 See, Tropper, Wisdom, Politics, esp. 117–35.

124 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

the sages who are included: right off the bat, we have not just Hillel, but Shammai (1:15). And looking further, we find traditions attributed to figures who are elsewhere banned, deposed, or otherwise anathematized, including Eliezer ben Hyrcanus (2:10), Akavia ben Mehalalel (3:1), Ben Zoma (4:1), Ben Azzai (4:2–3) and even, perhaps most surprisingly, Elisha ben Abuyah (4:20).81 And even after the patriarchal line of Judah the Prince (1:16–2:4) usurped the place of Ben Zakkai and his disciples in the line of transmission (2:8), the latter remain within the text (2:8–2:14). In a nod toward m. Sanhedrin, m. Avot 5:17– 19 does speak disparagingly (and vaguely) of Korah, Balaam, and Jeroboam. But Avot overall remains decidedly focused on continuity and consensus. Avot does this not by demonizing difference82 but by innocuously overlooking a great deal of it. Sects and subgroups may be important to mention elsewhere for a fuller understanding this or that. But in Avot (as in Apion) it is as if major disagreement never arose.

So the rabbis, like Josephus before them, operate in two different modes simultaneously: there’s an exclusionary tendency exhibited in Antiquities 10 and 18 and m. Sanhedrin 10; and there’s the consensus-constructing tendency (or mood) exhibited in Avot and Apion. And neither offers an unbounded multiformity or a clear drive toward a univocal orthodoxy.

Conclusion Just as Josephus is important for understanding ancient Jewish theology, so too are his writings critical for understanding the development of ancient Jewish heresiology. Already in War, Josephus seems keenly aware of potential dangers associated with certain illegitimate beliefs. And in Antiquities, an incipient heresiology is evident in the construction of the Fourth Philosophy as an isolated group that is characterized—and de-legitimated—as dangerous, novel, having a nameable founder, and lacking any justification in scripture or tradition. Even when scholars recognize the importance of Josephus’s evidence in a general sense, few have recognized the value of Josephus’s condemnation of the Fourth Philosophy for the understanding of early Jewish heresiology. Ironically, its significance lies precisely in its ahistorical nature, as an early verifiable instance of a group constructed rhetorically for the purpose of isolation and 81

Eliezer ben Hyrcanus is said to have been charged with minut: t. Hull. 2:24; Akavia ben Mehalalel is said to have been excommunicated: m. Ed. 5:6–7; Ben Zoma and Ben Azzai famously fell short in their mystical quests: t. Hag. 2:3; Elisha’s apostasy became legendary (b. Hag. 15a–b; y. Hag. 2:1, 77b–c).

82 Cohen, “Virgin Defiled,” 4, 8.

Klawans, Heresy Without Orthodoxy 125

condemnation—a century before the rabbis would construct their equally vague minim. Josephus’s constructed Fourth Philosophy also prefigures the patristic constructions of multifarious and ever-more precise heresies, assorted Gnostic sects among them.83 And yet, it is equally important to appreciate that Josephus’s heresiological efforts operate in the absence of a notion of orthodoxy. What we find, rather, is an equally constructed consensus, which for Josephus concerns God, providence, and Torah, though all is vaguely stated. And those few explicitly excluded from the consensus—primarily the Fourth Philosophy—are those who oppose the very idea of consensus by condoning internecine conflict.

In these respects, as in many others as well, Josephus can be understood as prefiguring the rabbis. For both the rabbis and Josephus, divine providence, hope of heaven, and fear of hell are meant to motivate and deter. They both presume that those who lack these beliefs, hopes, or fears will, ineluctably, fall into transgression. These fears highlight both the importance of theology as well as its interdependence with practice.

The rabbinic heresiological tendencies cohabit, as in Josephus, with neither an open “orthopraxy” nor an incipient orthodoxy, but with a vague yet bounded conception of consensus. In both cases, the constructed categories of the condemned (Epicureans, the Fourth Philosophy, minim) are excluded from a larger—and equally constructed—people of Israel, vaguely characterized for this purpose by an imagined continuous consensus (depicted in Avot by the rabbis, in Apion by Josephus).

While we can productively compare Josephus and the rabbis in terms of the overall significance of heresiology to their efforts, we must also grant some significant contrasts between Josephus’s (and the rabbis’) relatively meager efforts in this area and the sustained, systematic heresiological works of Irenaeus, Hippolytus, and Epiphanius. The general contrasts between the rabbis’ legal works and the patristic works of theology remain clear—though we ought not forget that the rabbis were interested in theology too (as discussed above) and that the patristic writers were not uninterested in regulating Christian ritual practices (or countering disapproved behaviors). Josephus’s relation to later

83

Scholars will continue to wonder whether “Gnosticism” (for instance) is a modern construct, an ancient construct, or a verifiably historical ancient phenomenon; see, e.g., Karen King, What is Gnosticism? (Cambridge: Belknap Press, 2003). Josephus’s account of the Fourth Philosophy may prove relevant to such debates, for here too we encounter an ancient, hostile construction of a group whose coherent independent existence proves difficult to confirm.

126 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

patristic writers is more complicated. On the one hand, the contrasts here may be even greater, given Josephus’s broad political and historiographic interests, which for some readers overshadow his religious concerns. Yet even while the contrasts are greater, the connections between Josephus and the later patristic writers are strong nevertheless—even stronger. After all, we need not wonder whether the fathers read (at least parts of) Josephus; we know they did. We need not speculate on whether they were influenced by Josephus’s accounts of Pharisees, Sadducees, Essenes, and Zealots; we know they were. So it matters indeed that the heresiological crescendo that climaxes with Epiphanius and Hippolytus opens quietly, hesitantly—but audibly—with Josephus. The fact that the rabbis’ tune was so similar to Josephus’s suggests that this melody may have been an originally Jewish one.

In short, we find incipient Jewish heresiology in Josephus and in the Mishnah, without an impulse toward orthodoxy and without the influence of Christianity.84 Therefore, this point bears repeating: theology matters to ancient Jews too.

www.jjmjs.org

84

Not only does Jewish heresiology develop independently of Christianity, it also cannot be seen only as prefiguring Christianity, since Jewish heresiology develops a condemnatory tendency without moving toward identifiable orthodoxy. In this respect, it may be helpful to view Josephus and the later rabbis as prefiguring not Christianity but Islam. In Sunni Islam, we also find that the claimed power of consensus (ijma) leads not necessarily to an eradication of difference but to a denial of a great deal of it (and the targeted condemnation of select sects, such as kharijis early on, and Shiites after that). For a recent survey of the current discussions on these questions, see Robert Langer and Udo Simonete, “The Dynamics of Orthodoxy and Heterodoxy: Dealing with Divergence in Muslim Discourses and Islamic Studies,” Die Welt des Islams 48.3/4 (2008): 273–88; on consensus in particular, see esp. 275–78 and the works cited there, including, esp., Devin J. Stewart, Islamic Legal Orthodoxy: Twelve Shiite Responses to the Sunni Legal System (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1998), 20–59. For a more introductory overview, see Jonathan P. Berkey, The Formation of Islam: Religion and Society in the Near East, 600–1800 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), esp. 128, 136, 141–51, 190, 248–49.

Alternate Visions of Judaism and Their Impact on the Formation of Rabbinic Judaism Karin Hedner Zetterholm Lund University | Karin.Zetterholm@teol.lu.se JJMJS No. 1 (2014): 127–153

As a consequence of the indications that rabbinic Judaism was not the only, or even the dominant, form of Judaism during the first centuries C.E.,1 a growing number of scholars have begun to recognize the likelihood of a continued diversity in post-70 Judaism and debate the possibility of recovering nonrabbinic forms of Judaism.2 The recent insight that Jewish self-identity in antiquity seems to have been fluid enough to have allowed for adherence to Jesus

1

C. Hezser, The Social Structure of the Rabbinic Movement (Tübingen, 1997); M. Himmelfarb, “The Parting of the Ways Reconsidered: Diversity in Judaism and Jewish– Christian Relations in the Roman Empire: ‘A Jewish Perspective,’” in Interwoven Destinies: Jews and Christians Through the Ages (ed. E. J. Fisher; New York: Paulist Press, 1993), 47–61.

2 M. Goodman, “Sadducees and Essenes After 70 CE,” in Crossing the Boundaries: Essays in Biblical Interpretation in Honour of Michael D. Goulder (ed. S. E. Porter, et al.; Leiden: Brill, 1994), 347–56; A. Y. Reed, “Rabbis, ‘Jewish Christians,’ and Other Late Antique Jews: Reflections on the Fate of Judaism(s) After 70 C.E.,” in The Changing Face of Judaism, Christianity, and Other Greco-Roman Religions in Antiquity (ed. I. H. Henderson and G. S. Oegma; München: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2006), 323–46.

Recently J. Magness has re-examined the idea of ancient Palestinian synagogues as evidence of non-rabbinic forms of Judaism, finding in the temple-oriented nature of the images indications of priestly and mystical oriented forms of Judaism; J. Magness, “Heaven on Earth: Helios and the Zodiac Cycle in Ancient Palestinian Synagogues,” Dumbarton Oaks 59 (2005): 1–52. As noted by Elior and others, the priestly traditions linking the Qumran texts with apocryphal, pseudepigraphic, and apocalyptic literature resurface in later hekhalot texts (Jewish mystic texts from the period of the Mishnah and the Talmud); R. Elior, The Three Temples: On the Emergence of Jewish Mysticism (Oxford: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2005), 7–20, 232–67; R. Elior, “From Earthly Temple to Heavenly Shrines: Prayer and Sacred Song in the Hekhalot Literature and Its Relation to Temple Traditions,” Jewish Studies Quarterly Review 4 (1997): 217–67. This may be another indication of an uninterrupted presence of a priestly-oriented Judaism.

128 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

as an option within Judaism3 has opened up new avenues for exploring the existence and nature of non-rabbinic varieties of Judaism by reading texts, previously considered the products of “heretical” Christians (or “Jewish Christians”), or as “Christian” appropriation of Jewish traditions, as Jewish texts and as evidence of diversity within Judaism.4 For instance, David Frankfurter has suggested that 5 and 6 Ezra (=2 Esdras 1–2 and 2 Esdras 15–16), Ascension of Isaiah (Ascension), and the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs (Testament) emerged in communities of halakhically observant prophecy-oriented Jews who at some point had come to embrace Jesus as the Messiah, while retaining a Jewish, or even priestly selfdefinition.5 In addition to their strong interest in prophecy and prophetic traditions, these texts are concerned with Torah observance, Israel’s past and future, the end-time salvation of a remnant of Israel, the inclusion of Gentiles into the covenant with Israel’s God, the fate of non-Jesus-oriented Jews, and in the case of the Ascension, with heavenly ascent.

While the inclusion of Gentiles and harsh statements about non-Jesusoriented Jews have been taken as evidence of non-Jewish authorship, both features can be readily understood within a Jewish framework. The inclusion of Gentiles seems to have been an issue of significant concern for Jews in the early centuries C.E.,6 and references to the rejection of Israel can be understood as an expression of a classic remnant theology with roots in the Hebrew Bible. As

3

D. Boyarin, The Jewish Gospels: The Story of the Jewish Christ (New York: New Press, 2012), 1–24; D. Frankfurter, “Beyond ‘Jewish Christianity’: Continuing Religious SubCultures of the Second and Third Centuries and Their Documents,” in The Ways That Never Parted: Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, eds. A. H. Becker and A. Y. Reed (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2007), 131–43.

4 C. E. Fonrobert, “The Didascalia Apostolorum: A Mishnah for the Disciples of Jesus,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 9 (2001): 483–50; Frankfurter, “Beyond ‘Jewish Christianity’: Continuing Religious Sub-Cultures of the Second and Third Centuries and Their Documents,” in The Ways That Never Parted, 131–43; Reed, “Reflections,”; A. Y. Reed, “‘Jewish Christianity’ after the ‘Parting of the Ways’: Approaches to Historiography and Self-Definition in the Pseudo-Clementines,” in The Ways That Never Parted, 189–231.

5 Frankfurter, “Beyond Jewish Christianity,” 131–43. See also R. G. Hall, “Isaiah’s Ascent to See the Beloved: An Ancient Jewish Source For the Ascension of Isaiah?,” Journal of Biblical Literature 113 (1994): 463–84, who also sees the Jesus-orientation of the Ascension as an orientation within Judaism.

6 A continuation of this universalistic trend within rabbinic Judaism can be seen in the R. Ishmael school in tannaitic literature, see M. Hirshman, “Rabbinic Universalism in the Second and Third Centuries,” Harvard Theological Review 93 (2000): 101–15.

Zetterholm, Alternate Visions of Judaism 129

pointed out by Martha Himmelfarb, emphasis on God’s anger with his people even to the point of rejection is a commonplace in prophetic literature, and does not preclude Jewish authorship.7 Fifth and 6 Ezra, with their strong sense of being a privileged elect, and references in 5 Ezra to “the people to come” to whom Israel’s privileges are being transferred, would seem to represent a continuation of a remnant theology present in the Bible and Qumran literature, and can be understood to reflect intra-Jewish polemics, in which the author is involved in a struggle to define his community against other forms of Judaism.8 Even in the fourth century, adherence to Jesus seems to have been an option within Judaism. Charlotte Fonrobert has argued that the Didascalia Apostolorum (DA) ought to be read as a Jewish text and as evidence of Jewish diversity, and Annette Y. Reed has suggested that the groups behind significant parts of the Homilies (Hom) and Recognitions (Rec), the main texts that make up the Pseudo-Clementine writings, represent a Jewish identity that includes adherence to Jesus.9 Below, I will argue that the theologies as a whole, not just particular ideas or interpretive practices, developed by the Homilies, Recognitions and the Didascalia represent coherent Jewish, although nonrabbinic, visions of the history and mission of biblical Israel, and that these rival visions, precisely because of their Jewish nature, prompted a response from rabbinic Jews. Not only did these non-rabbinic groups self-identity as Jews, their 7 Himmelfarb, “The Parting of the Ways,” 47–61, esp. 56–57. Bergren’s conclusion, T. A. Bergren, Fifth Ezra: The Text, Origin and Early History (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1990), 18–20 that 5 Ezra is likely an integral composition speaks against the theory of a “Christian” reworking of an original “Jewish” text, and might support the claim that it is a composition by a Jesus-oriented Jewish group.

8 Bergren, Fifth Ezra, 317–21 discusses this possibility, but in the end opts for “Christian,” in the sense of non-Jewish, authorship. However, he acknowledges the problem of applying the terms “Jewish “ and “Christian” to texts such as 5 Ezra when he writes: “[I]t is necessary to remain sensitive to the great diversity that characterized both ‘early Christianity’ and ‘early Judaism,’ and to the complex and sometimes subtle nature of the interface between the two. It is possible that 5 Ezra represents a document, or contains material, that is close to this often elusive interface between Judaism and Christianity.

Earliest Christianity was a form of Judaism in which some of the elements that one normally thinks of as typically ‘Jewish’ were absent, and in which some tendencies usually regarded as typically ‘Christian’ were embraced. . . . Some of these ideas formed the very basis of ‘Christian’ doctrine, yet many must also have been characteristic of forms of Judaism in the Hellenistic period. The fact that these ideas may not seem ‘Jewish’ to a modern observer is more a product of the triumph of rabbinic Judaism, and the loss of much evidence of ‘alternative’ forms of Judaism, than of historical reality” (p. 330 n. 13).

9 Fonrobert, “Didascalia Apostolorum,” 483–509; Reed, “Jewish Christianity,” 189–231.

130 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

theologies very likely made sense to other Jews, including rabbinic ones, and unless we regard adherence to Jesus as constituting a break with Judaism, there is nothing in these theologies that is inherently un-Jewish.10 In their approaches to prophecy, Torah observance, the inclusion of Gentiles, and the fate of nonJesus-oriented Jews, they stand in continuity with Jesus-oriented texts from the second and third centuries mentioned above.

Prophecy-Oriented Forms of Judaism—The Pseudo-Clementines Claims to prophetic authority in the Pseudo-Clementines raise the possibility that the groups behind the Homilies and Recognitions represent a continuation and development of a prophecy-oriented Judaism reflected in texts such as the Ascension of Isaiah, 5 and 6 Ezra and the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs.11 Recent studies suggest that the Ascension and 5 and 6 Ezra emerged in schools of prophets who modeled themselves along the lines of biblical prophets while also embracing Jesus as the Messiah,12 and a similar setting of circles of prophets has 10

The fact that these communities included Gentiles does not preclude a general sense of Jewish self-identity. I would assume that the Gentiles who joined these Torah observant Jewish-oriented Jesus-communities adopted a Jewish identity as it was envisioned by these groups. In view of Paul’s struggle to keep the Gentile members of the Jesus movement from observing the Torah in the same way as the Jewish members did, the adoption of a Jewish identity on the part of Gentile Jesus-adherents of a later period does not seem implausible. Naturally, their perception of Jewish identity was different than the rabbinic one and possibly also from other prevalent definitions of Jewishness during the third and fourth centuries. The Homilies’ definition of a Jew as someone who observes the law does not intrinsically privilege a Jew over a Gentile and might well have been appealing to non-Jewish adherents to Jesus. If we take seriously the idea that adherence to Jesus was an orientation within Judaism, we likely have to contend with multiple Jewish identities during the early centuries C.E. 11 On the relationship between text and community see for instance, S. C. Barton, “Can We Identify the Gospel Audiences?” in The Gospels for All Christians (ed. R. Bauckham; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 173–94. Although one should be cautious in always assuming a distinctive community behind each text, these texts at the very least served the needs of some sort of interpretive community, or set of communities, in which they were written down and transmitted, and some of them, such as the Homilies and Recognitions, reveal quite a lot of information about practices and hermeneutics shared by these interpretive communities.

12 R. G. Hall, “The Ascension of Isaiah: Community Situation. Date, and Place in Early Christianity,” Journal of Biblical Literature 109 (1990): 289–306, esp. 293–96; E. Norelli, Ascension d’Isaïe (Turnhout: Brepols, 1993), 87–99; Frankfurter, “Beyond Jewish Christianity,” 139. Syria/Palestine or Asia Minor has been proposed as the likely

Zetterholm, Alternate Visions of Judaism 131

been proposed for the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs, Lives of the Prophets and 4 Baruch.13 Jesus does not occupy a key place in these texts,14 and appears secondary to the major concerns of heavenly ascent and prophetic authority, leading Frankfurter to posit the existence of a multiform prophetic Judaism, which continued from a Jewish stage into a Jesus-oriented stage that was also Jewish.15 Thus, adherence to Jesus and the promotion of prophetic authority should not be seen as characteristics of “Christian” communities as opposed to Jewish ones, but rather as a trait distinguishing some Jewish groups.16 Ascension, whose final redaction is dated to the latter part of the first century or the early decades of the second century C.E.,17 seems to reflect a community in conflict with other prophetic groups, and its resemblance to the Book of Revelation, the Gospel of John, and the Odes of Solomon has led scholars to suggest an origin in a common milieu of rival prophetic schools for all these

provenance of all three works. Hall, “Ascension of Isaiah,” 296, and T. Elgvin, “Jewish Christian Editing of the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha,” in Jewish Believers in Jesus: The Early Centuries (ed. O. Skarsaune and R. Hvalvik; Peabody: Hendrickson, 2007), 278–304, esp. 293, place the Ascension in Syria/Palestine while Frankfurter, “Beyond Jewish Christianity,” 139, sees Asia Minor as the most likely place of origin. T. A. Bergren, Sixth Ezra: The Text and Origin (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), 18–31, places 6 Ezra in Asia Minor, and Frankfurter, “Beyond Jewish Christianity,” 139, places both 5 and 6 Ezra there.

13 Elgvin, “Jewish Christian Editing,” 301.

14 Hall, for instance, underscores that nothing indicates that Ascension was primarily written about Jesus. He is clearly secondary to the concern with heavenly ascent and the beauties and glories of heaven; Hall, “Isaiah’s Ascent,” 476–79. Fifth and 6 Ezra do not even make explicit mention of Jesus.

15 Himmelfarb, “Parting of the Ways,” 54–56 has made a similar argument for 3 Baruch, suggesting that it may provide evidence for the existence of non-rabbinic Jews whose reaction to the destruction of the temple had much in common with that of the author of the book of Revelation.

16 Frankfurter, “Beyond Jewish Christianity,” 131–43.

17 R. Bauckham, “The Ascension of Isaiah: Genre, Unity and Date,” in The Fate of the Dead: Studies on the Jewish and Christian Apocalypses (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 363–90, esp.

381–90; Hall, “Ascension of Isaiah,” 300–306. While the Ascension has traditionally been seen as a composite text, there is a tendency in recent scholarship to see the book as a composition of a single author, although drawing on older traditions; Bauckham, “Ascension of Isaiah,” 365–74; Hall, “Ascension of Isaiah,” 289–306.

132 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

texts.18 Fifth and 6 Ezra, dated somewhere between 130 and 250 and the midthird or early fourth century respectively,19 also resemble Revelation as well as the Gospel of Matthew, leading Graham Stanton to conclude that 5 Ezra together with the Apocalypse of Peter represent a continuation of the Matthean community, in which prophecy continued.20 This suggests that a Jesus and prophecy-oriented form of Judaism reflected in first-century texts, such as the Gospel of Matthew and Revelation,21 continued as an orientation within Judaism well into the third century.

Although the communities of the Homilies and Recognitions do not seem to have included circles of active prophets, they adhered to prophetic modes of authority as the only reliable source of knowledge about God. For both the Homilies and Recognitions, prophecy is the only source of true knowledge about God, and the most prominent figure in the third-century source that they both independently rework is the true Prophet, whom the Recognitions identify with Jesus and the Homilies with Jesus and Moses, seeing them as two different manifestations of the true Prophet (Hom 2.16–17). The Recognitions in particular sees the true Prophet, Jesus, as the only conduit for knowledge about God (Rec 1.44; 5.5.3; 5.10.3): “The true Prophet . . . alone can enlighten the souls of human beings, so that with their eyes they may plainly perceive the way of salvation. For otherwise it is impossible to understand divine and eternal things, unless one learns from the true Prophet” (Rec 1.16.1–2), and similarly, “it is

18

Hall, “Ascension of Isaiah,” 289–306. The Ascension also displays numerous parallels with Jewish apocalyptic texts and later hekhalot literature, Bauckham, “Ascension of Isaiah,” 38; Hall, “Isaiah’s Ascent,” 464–65.

19 Bergren, Fifth Ezra, 24–26; Bergren, Sixth Ezra, 16–17.

20 G. S. Stanton, A Gospel for a New People: Studies in Matthew (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1992), 264–77.

21 Texts, which by an increasing number of scholars, are seen as expressions of Judaism of which Jesus-orientation was a part, rather than “Christian” as opposed to Jewish. For the view of Revelation as a Jewish text, see D. Frankfurter, “Jews or Not? Reconstructing the ‘Other’ in Rev 2:9 and 3:9,” Harvard Theological Review 94 (2001): 403–42; J. W. Marshall, Parables of War: Reading John’s Jewish Apocalypse (Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier Press, 2001); for the Gospel of Matthew, A. J. Saldarini, Matthew’s Christian-Jewish Community (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994); D. C. Sim, The Gospel of Matthew and Christian Judaism: The History and Social Setting of the Matthean Community (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1998).

Zetterholm, Alternate Visions of Judaism 133

impossible, without the true Prophet, to know what is pleasing to God” (Rec 1.44.5).22 Prophetic knowledge is seen as superior to all other forms of knowledge, and those who have not received knowledge about God directly from Jesus cannot obtain it from any other source. By virtue of his personal relationship to Jesus, Peter embodies prophetic knowledge about God, a knowledge that is transmitted to the community through a line of succession from Jesus via Peter to the office of the bishop (Rec 19.14.4). As the bearer of prophetic knowledge transmitted from Jesus, Peter has interpretive authority far superior to all others.23 Thus, the Homilies and Recognitions, like the second- and third-century texts discussed above, maintain a tradition of prophecy and may reflect the continued existence of forms of prophetic Judaism from the Second Temple period,24 preserved and further developed mainly by Jewish adherents to Jesus.

Originally composed in Greek, probably in Syria,25 portions of the Homilies and Recognitions were translated into Syriac in the early fourth century, and in the case of the Recognitions also into Latin, indicating a widespread circulation. Citing emphasis on the importance of Moses, the Torah, halakhic observance, and assertions of the continued chosenness of the Jews as indications of a Jewish self-identity, Reed has persuasively argued that the Homilies and Recognitions in their extant redacted forms represent a Jewish identity that includes adherence to Jesus.26 For instance, Rec 1.27–71, a distinct

22

Cf. Hom 1.19.1–4; 2.4.3; 2.5.2–3; 2.8.2; 2.12.1–2; 3.11.1 and the end of Rec 1.16.8: “. . . thus it is beyond doubt that from none but Himself alone can it be known what is true,” N. Kelley, Knowledge and Religious Authority in the Pseudo-Clementines (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 140–41. Translations modified upon consultation with the original and Kelley’s translation.

23 Kelley, Knowledge, 138–46.

24 Some Jews may never have ceased to believe in prophecy in spite of the rabbinic insistence that prophecy ceased with the last biblical prophets (t. Sot. 13:3; y. Sot. 9:13; b.

Sot. 48b; b. B. Batra 14b; S. Olam Rab 30; cf. 1 Macc 9:27), or perhaps a revival of prophetic activity occurred during the first century due to the widespread belief that the end time was near, as suggested by B. Sommer, “Did Prophecy Cease? Evaluating a Reevaluation,” Journal of Biblical Literature 115 (1996): 31–47.

25 Edessa and Antioch are considered the most likely candidates; Kelley, Knowledge, 16 and n. 54. For a survey of scholarship on the Pseudo-Clementines, see S. F. Jones, “The Pseudo-Clementines: A History of Research,” Second Century 2 (1982): 1–33, 63–96. A brief overview is provided by Kelley, Knowledge, 17–27.

26 Reed, “Jewish Christianity,” 197–204.

134 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

source within the Recognitions,27 seems to regard orientation toward Jesus as a strictly inner-Jewish affair. The author sees Jesus’ teachings as a fulfillment and completion of those of Moses and depicts the Jesus community as one of a number of competing Jewish groups and the followers of Jesus as a group within Judaism. The distinction is not between “Christians” and “Jews” but between true Judaism and other Jewish groups.28 As observed by Stanley Jones, the author considers his interpretation of Judaism as the religion originally intended by Moses and that “[f]or him, Christianity (a term he does not use) is true Judaism (another term he does not employ).”29 The focus is on the Jews—Jesus is depicted as the Jewish Messiah, and the idea that Gentiles who have embraced Jesus are included into the covenant only after a majority of Jews refused to accept Jesus as the Messiah, is reminiscent of the view of the Testament that salvation is extended to the Gentiles through Israel’s temporary unbelief. According to the Testament, Israel has failed in its mission and is dispersed because of its rejection of Jesus, but this is only temporary and serves the purpose of bringing the Gentiles into the promises of Israel through Jesus. Eventually, Israel will return to God, who will save both Jews and Gentiles: “The twelve tribes shall be gathered there and all the nations, until such time as the Most High shall send forth his salvation through the ministration of the unique prophet” (T. Benj. 9.3).30 Jesus-oriented Gentiles do not replace Israel but are added to it.31 Recognitions 1.27–71 blames the failure of many Jews to embrace Jesus on Paul, who just when James had succeeded in persuading “all the people

27 S. F. Jones, An Ancient Jewish Christian Source on ther History of Christianity PseudoClementine Recognitions 1.27–71 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995), 159–63 argues that this source was written by a “Jewish Christian” living in Judaea ca 200 C. E. 28 Reed, “Jewish Christianity,” 204–205.

29 Jones, Ancient Jewish Christian Source, 160.

30 Cf. “. . . and all Israel will be gathered to the Lord” (T. Benj. 10.11), and “For the Lord will raise up from Levi someone as a high priest and someone as a king, God and man. He will save all the Gentiles and the tribe of Israel” (T. Sim. 7.2), translation from S. G. Wilson, Related Strangers: Jews and Christians 70–170 C. E. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995), 107.

31 Cf. Wilson, Related Strangers, 106–107; Frankfurter, “Beyond Jewish Christianity,” 140–42; Elgvin, “Jewish Christian Editing,” 286–92. The salvation of Israel sometimes comes through obedience to God’s commandments and sometimes through Jesus.

Perhaps the author believed that adherents to Jesus—Jews and Gentiles—would be saved through Jesus and the rest of the Jews through God’s original promise; Wilson, Related Strangers, 106–107.

Zetterholm, Alternate Visions of Judaism 135

together with the high priest” that Jesus was the Messiah (Rec 1.69.8), is said to have burst into the temple, accused James of being a magician, and incited the priests into joining him in killing James and many of his followers (1.70). This necessitated the mission to the Gentiles in order that the number of descendants promised to Abraham might be filled, but is referred to in the Syriac as “confusion,” indicating that the author viewed it as necessary but not ideal.32 This is somewhat similar to 5 Ezra, in which Ezra at God’s command goes to the Gentile nations to offer them the Torah only after Israel has rejected him and refused God’s commandments (2.33).33 The Homilies and other parts of the Recognitions are more concerned with the inclusion of Gentiles into the covenant with Israel’s God, but from a no less Jewish perspective: “What was therefore a special gift from God toward the nation of the Hebrews [Hebraeorum gentium], we see now to be given also to those who are called from among the nations/peoples to the faith [ex gentibus convocantur ad fidem].34 Israel’s covenant with God is now extended to include Jesus-oriented non-Jews, granting them the privileges that Jews had long enjoyed. As in the Testament, Gentiles do not replace Jews but are added into the people of God. Non-Jesus-oriented Jews remain in the covenant, as is evident from the assertion that the Torah and the teachings of Jesus are two equal paths to salvation.

Moses and Jesus are presented as two teachers of the same truth to two different peoples, Moses for Jews and Jesus for non-Jews (Rec 4.5; Hom 8.5),35

32

Jones, Ancient Jewish Christian Source, 160; Reed, “Jewish Christianity,” 207.

This appears to be a reversal of the widespread tannaitic midrash according to which God gave the Torah to Israel only after the “nations of the world” had refused it, see Mekh. R. Ishmael, Bahodesh 5; Sifre to Deuteronomy §343.

34 Rec 4.5. Hom 8.5 has: “both for the Hebrews and for those who are called from the nations” (᾽Εβραίοις τε καὶ τοῖς ἀπὸ ἐθνῶν κεκλημένοις), see Reed, “Jewish Christianity,” 213– 14. Translations of the Homilies and Recognitions follow The Ante-Nicene Fathers: Translations of the Writings of the Fathers down to A. D. 325 (ed. A. Roberts and J. Donaldson; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978), although sometimes modified upon consultation with the original in B. Rehm, Die Pseudoklementinen, vol. I: Homilien (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1969); B. Rehm, Die Pseudoklementinen, vol. 2, Rekognitionen in Rufinus Übersetzung (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1969). The division of the world into two groups of people, Jews and Gentiles, is an additional indication of the Jewish selfidentity of the authors/redactors.

35 “It is therefore the special gift bestowed by God upon the Hebrews, that they believe Moses, and the special gift bestowed upon the nations/peoples [gentibus] that they treasure Jesus” (Rec 4.5).

33

136 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

and although the ideal is to embrace both Jesus and Moses (Rec 4.5), “God accepts him who has believed either of these” (Hom 8.6). Thus, acceptance of Jesus as the Messiah, although desirable, is not a necessary precondition for salvation. While Rec 1.27–71 blames Paul for the failure of the mission to Jews, the Homilies explains that the reason why all Jews do not embrace Jesus is that God has chosen to conceal him from them in order to include the Gentiles in the covenant (Hom 8.6–7),36 a view that is very similar to the one embraced by the Testament.

Observing the commandments of the law is expected of Jews and Jesusoriented Gentiles alike and Torah observance is even made the criterion of Jewishness: For he is a worshipper of God, of whom I speak, who is truly pious, not one who is such only in name, but who really performs the deeds of the law that has been given him. If any one acts impiously, he is not pious; in like manners, if he who is of another tribe keeps the law, he is a Jew; but he who does not keep it is a Greek. For the Jew believes God and keeps the law. . . . But he who keeps not the law is manifestly a deserter through not believing God; and thus is no Jew, but a sinner.37 Here, the definition of a Jew is someone who is Torah observant, and the Homilies includes in the category of “Jews” Torah-observant Gentile “Godfearers” and condemns as sinners non-observant Jews along with non-observant Gentiles. By way of similar reasoning, the Recognitions dissolve the categories of “Jew” and “Gentile,” declaring that observance of the law is what distinguishes a “true worshipper of God” irrespective of ethnicity: For in God’s estimation he is not a Jew who is called a Jew among men (nor is he a Gentile [gentilis] who is called a Gentile), but he who, believing in God, fulfils his law and does his will, though he be not circumcised, he is the true

36

Reed, “Jewish Christianity,” 216. In contrast to the Homilies, some parts of the Recognitions assert the superiority of Jesus over Moses, an inconsistency which Reed attributes to a redaction of R towards consonance with proto-Orthodox Christian traditions. However, both positions are consistent with a Jewish self-identity.

37 Hom 11.16.

Zetterholm, Alternate Visions of Judaism 137

worshipper of God (verus dei cultor), who not only is himself free from passions but also sets others free from them.38 Thus, the covenant now includes Jesus-oriented Jews and Gentiles along with non-Jesus-oriented Jews. They are all are expected to be Torah-observant and through this common practice they become one entity, as reflected in the redefinition of Jewish identity. Like the Jesus-believing Pharisees in Acts 15:5, the Homilies and Recognitions insist on Torah observance, but unlike them they do not require turning Gentiles into Jews by circumcision (Acts 15:1), with the possible exception of Rec 1.27–71, which may agree with the Pharisees of Acts on this point also, although this is not altogether clear.39 Homilies and major parts of Recognitions focus on the Gentiles, but they do so from a profoundly Jewish perspective. As observed by Reed, Homilies even participate in a Jewish discourse about halakhah that reveals familiarity and respect for rabbinic purity practices (Hom 11.28, 30).40 Furthermore, the Homilies, like Rec 1.27–71, have a favorable view of the Pharisees and repeatedly cite Jesus’ assertion that they “sit in the seat of Moses” (cf. Matt 23:2) and affirm that the Pharisees, as Moses’ heirs, are entrusted with the keys to the kingdom of heaven (Hom 3.18).41 This favorable view of the Pharisees is extended to the members the rabbinic movement in a statement that reveals familiarity with the rabbinic chain of Torah transmission (m. Avot 1–2) and indicates acceptance of contemporary rabbinic authority claims: “The Law of God was given by Moses, without writing, to seventy wise men to be handed down, so that the

38

Rec 5.34. See Reed, “Jewish Christianity,” 221.

See the discussion in Reed, “Jewish Christianity,” 212, n. 83.

40 Reed, “Jewish Christianity,” 222–23.

41 Cf. Hom 3.18–19; 3.70; 11.29, where the Pharisees are also said to possess the key to the kingdom of heaven, A. I. Baumgarten, “Literary Evidence for Jewish Christianity in the Galilee,” in The Galilee in Late Antiquity (ed. L. I. Levine; New York: The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1992), 39–50, esp. 41–42. This raises the intriguing possibility that Homilies and/or Rec 1.27–71 in particular are in some way related to the Jesus-oriented Pharisees of Acts 15:5, perhaps representing a development of their position. Cf. Baumgarten, “Literary Evidence,” 49, who speculates that those behind the Pseudo-Clementine writings claimed to be the “true” Pharisees. See also A. Runesson, “Rethinking Early Jewish-Christian Relations: Matthean Community History as Pharisaic Intragroup Conflict,” Journal of Biblical Literature 127 (2008): 95–132, who argues that the original community behind the Gospel of Matthew were made up of Pharisees who believed that Jesus was Israel’s Messiah. Paul also self-identified as a Pharisee, according to Acts 23:6.

39

138 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

government might be carried on by succession” (Hom 3.47). In Hom 2.38, Peter asserts that the prophet Moses “delivered the Law, with the explanations, to certain chosen men, some seventy in number,” and Homilies seems to maintain that proper teaching and leadership were preserved among rabbinic Jews due to their faithful transmission of traditions from Moses.42 The idea that Moses is the teacher for Jews and Jesus the teacher of the same truth for Gentiles may reflect a Jewish way of coming to terms with the fact that not all Jews embraced Jesus, and it makes perfect sense from a Jewish perspective, in particular for a Jewish group focused on the inclusion of Gentiles.

The unreserved inclusion of non-Jesus-oriented Jews and attempts to accommodate rabbinic authority claims may indicate that the community behind the Homilies had a close relationship with rabbinic Jews,43 and is consistent with the recent insight that adherence to Jesus was an option within Judaism and not the demarcation line that distinguished “Christians” from Jews.

The groups behind some of the layers of the Homilies and Recognitions seem to have shared views and practices with rabbinic Jews that may have drawn them closer to them than to other Jesus-oriented Jews.44 An Alternate Vision of Judaism—the Didascalia Apostolorum Another text, which one might argue represents a kind of non-rabbinic Judaism, is the third century Didascalia Apostolorum (DA), also composed and redacted in Syria. Originally written in Greek, it was apparently popular enough to be translated, first into Syriac in the early fourth century, and subsequently into Latin, Ethiopian, and Arabic, indicating a wide circulation.45 Although commonly considered a “Christian” text, the author claims to be a Jew, calling

42

A. Y. Reed, “‘Jewish Christianity’ as Counter-history? The Apostolic Past in Eusebius’ Ecclesiastical History and the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies,” in Antiquity in Antiquity: Jewish and Christian Pasts in the Greco-Roman World (ed. G. Gardner and K. L. Osterloh; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 172–216, esp. 191–93. A further indication of an outlook shared with rabbinic Jews is the negative view of the Sadducees in Rec 1.27–71 (1.54.7) that is strikingly similar to that of the rabbinic one (ARN (A) 5), as observed by Baumgarten, “Literary Evidence,” 42–43.

43 Rec 1.27–71 even presents Rabban Gamliel as a secret adherent to Jesus (1.65.2–68.2).

44 Cf. Boyarin, Jewish Gospels, 21–24 and Baumgarten, “Literary Evidence,” 41–47.

45 A. Stewart-Sykes, The Didascalia Apostolorum: An English Version with Introduction and Annotation (Turnhout: Brepols, 2009); A. Vööbus, The Didascalia Apostolorum in Syriac (Louvain: 1979), 23–33.

Zetterholm, Alternate Visions of Judaism 139

himself a disciple “from among the Jews,”46 and based on the author’s/redactor’s detailed knowledge of Jewish customs and hermeneutics, Fonrobert has argued that the Didascalia ought to be read as a Jewish text and as evidence of a diversity within Judaism.47 Although a composite text that appears to have undergone several redactions,48 making it difficult to make claims about the work as a whole, seeing the Didascalia as a basically Jewish, although non-rabbinic composition seems convincing. The author/redactor is steeped in Jewish tradition, interpreting the Bible like a Jew, thinking like a Jew, and arguing like a Jew, and his ideas make sense within a Jewish world-view provided we allow for expressions of Judaism other than the rabbinic one. To the arguments adduced by Fonrobert, one could add that the author/redactor betrays a Jewish outlook in the distinction he makes between Jews and non-Jews, the two groups making up his community, whom he addresses as: “us who were called from the people” and “you, who were called from the peoples.”49 At the level of the audience, the Didascalia constitutes clear evidence of the existence of Jesus-oriented Jews with various degrees of attachment to rabbinic Judaism.50 Fonrobert concludes that while sharing 46

“Now we know, however, that our Savior did not say [this] to the gentiles [‫]לעממא‬, but he said it to us, his disciples from among the Jews [‫]לן לתלמידוה דמן בית יהודיא‬,” DA 26 CSCO 407:248 (Syriac) and 408:230 (English). Text citations from DA are taken from Vööbus’ edition in CSCO 401 and 407 (Syriac) and CSCO 402 and 408 (English).

Stewart-Sykes, Didascalia, 24 n. 45 dismisses this self-identification as merely being the voice of the implied author, but even if it were, there are good reasons to define the text as Jewish. I believe that the idea that he is not Jewish, prevalent in earlier scholarship, derives from the assumption that adherence to Jesus is irreconcilable with a Jewish identity.

47 Fonrobert, “Didascalia Apostolorum,” 485–86. A. Marmorstein, “Judaism and Christianity in the Middle of the Third Century,” Hebrew Union College Annual 10 (1935): 223–63, suggested that the author may have been born a Jew with a past as a disciple of the rabbis (p. 233).

48 Stewart-Sykes, Didascalia, 22–55.

49 DA 26 CSCO 407:249 (Syriac), 408:231 (English). In other places he addresses them as “dear brothers who have come to faith from among the people,” DA 26 CSCO 407:251 (Syriac), 408:233 (English), or “you, those who have turned [‫ ]אתפניו‬from the people to trust in God our Savior Jesus the Messiah” (DA 26 CSCO 407:241 (Syriac). My translation.

50 These members of the community argue that the Sabbath has priority over Sunday and are obviously concerned with food regulations and impurity issues and he pleads with them not to “remain in your former way of life, brethren, that you should keep vain bonds, purifications and sprinklings and baptisms and distinction of meats” DA 26 CSCO

140 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

interpretive techniques and a way of thinking with rabbinic Jews, the author/redactor of the Didascalia attempts to build a community for Jesusadherents—Jews and Gentiles—in distinction from the rabbinic movement.51 In what follows, I will argue that his entire theology can be understood as a Jewish, although non-rabbinic, vision of the purpose of Israelite history and God’s election of Israel.

The law (Syriac: ‫נמוסא‬/namosa) is central to the author/redactor of the Didascalia, and he emphasizes that his community of Jesus-adherents—Jews and non-Jews—is based on law, the law that was given to “the first people” (the Jews) and now also to “the present congregation of God” (Jewish and non-Jewish adherents to Jesus): The Law is said to be a yoke because, like a yoke used for ploughing, it is laid on the first people [‫ ]עמא קדמיא‬and also upon the present congregation of God [‫]עדתא דאלוא‬. And now it is upon us, upon those who were called from the people [‫ ]עממא‬and upon you and on those who are from the peoples [‫( בית עממא‬pl.)], who have received mercy. So it governs and unites us in a single accord.52 The law that was first given to the Jews (“the people”) now applies also to the Gentiles (“the peoples”), signifying the latter’s inclusion in the covenant.

407:241 (Syriac), 408:223 (English). “Way of life” seems to be a better translation of ‫ דובריכון‬than Vööbus’ “conversation.” See J. P. Smith, A Compendious Syriac Dictionary Founded Upon the Thesarus Syriacus of R. Payne Smith (Eugene, 1999 [1902]), 84, “custom, way, manner of life, manners”; and Stewart-Sykes, Didascalia, 238, “conduct.”

The women seem to observe rules of menstrual purity reminiscent of rabbinic practices (DA 26, 408:238–39), see C. E. Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity: Rabbinic and Christian Reconstructions of Biblical Gender (Stanford, 2000), 172–74. Since adherence to Jesus was not a demarcation line between “Christians” and Jews but rather an orientation within Judaism, one may expect a variety of different Jewish practices to be combined with Jesusadherence.

51 Fonrobert, “Didascalia Apostolorum,” 502.

52 DA 26 CSCO 407:249 (Syriac), 408:231 (English). Translation modified upon consultation with the original and with Stewart-Sykes, Didascalia, 245. To translate ‫עמא‬ ‫ קדמיא‬as “the former people” as do both Vööbus and Stewart-Sykes seems to reflect the assumption that the author embraces a replacement theology, and the rendering of ‫עדתא‬ ‫ דאלוא‬as “church” imposes associations of a later reality on the text. Cf. ‫נמוסא‬ ‫קדמיא‬/namosa kadmaya, which is not translated as “the former law.”

Zetterholm, Alternate Visions of Judaism 141

However, he makes a distinction within the different parts of the Torah and claims that only the “first law” (‫נמוסא קדמיא‬/namosa kadmaya), also called the “simple law” (‫נמוסא פשיטא‬/namosa peshitta),53 defined as the Decalogue and the Judgments, needs to be observed whereas the “second legislation” (‫תנין‬ ‫נמוסא‬/tinyan namosa), defined as the laws given after the Israelites worshipped the golden calf as related in Exod 32, should not be kept.54 The lack of trust in God that the Israelites demonstrate by declaring the golden calf to be their god and worshipping it after all that God had done for them is seen by the author/redactor as Israel’s sin par excellence and the watershed between the “first law,” which is eternal, and a set of secondary laws which were meant to be temporary and imposed in order to prevent the Israelites from falling into idolatry again.55 These laws, which include regulations for sacrifices, “distinction of meats,” impurity regulations and purifications were imposed “in the heat of [God’s] anger—yet with the mercy of his goodness,”56 which seems to indicate that they were not so much a punishment as a necessary means to make the Israelites focus their attention on Israel’s God and prevent them from worshipping foreign gods.

Seeing the worship of the golden calf as Israel’s cardinal sin is a view that the author/redactor shares with the rabbis,57 although he sees the consequences differently. Even the idea that the institution of sacrifices was a concession from God, introduced as a means to prevent the Israelites from sacrificing to foreign gods, seems to have been part of a common Jewish tradition, as it appears in rabbinic literature (Lev. Rab. 22.8) as well as in Rec 1.35.1. By making a distinction between laws given before the golden calf episode and those given after it, and by presenting the latter as given because of Israel’s inclination towards idolatry, the Ten Commandments—a short hand for the law originally received by Moses—are given a special position in both the

53

Perhaps better translated as the “common law.” Cf. Versio Vulgata, the commonly or universally used Latin Bible translation, and the Peshitta, the standard version of the Syriac Bible.

54 The Judgments likely refer to the section starting at Exod 21, titled mishpatim in the Hebrew Bible, which like the Decalogue appears before the sin of the golden calf in Exod 32; R. Kimelman, “Polemics and Rabbinic Liturgy,” in Discussing Cultural Influences: Text, Context and Non-Text in Rabbinic Judaism (ed. R. Ulmer; Lanham: University Press of America, 2007), 59–97, esp. 84.

55 DA 26 CSCO 408:226–27.

56 DA 26 CSCO 408:226.

57 T. Shabb. 1.16; t. Meg. 3.36–36, Fonrobert, “Didascalia Apostolorum,” 502.

142 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

Didascalia and Rec 1.27–71.58 Although the conclusions that these authors draw from the golden calf episode are different from those of the rabbis, there is nothing inherently un-Jewish about their understanding of the consequences for Israel’s history.59 The reason why all Jews have not embraced Jesus, according to the Didascalia, is that God caused a blindness to fall upon them and “hardened their hearts like that of Pharaoh,” so that they did not understand that Jesus marked a new era in their history. This blindness was imposed on them because of their failure to keep the laws of the second legislation: “However, in not one of them did they abide, but they again provoked the Lord to anger. On this account he yet added to them by the second legislation a blindness worthy of their works.”60 Although harsher, it bears some resemblance to the theory of concealment in the Homilies and is completely in line with what the biblical prophets accuse Israel of—indeed the Didascalia’s author appeals to Isaiah to prove his point about Israel’s blindness.61 Because of their failure to recognize Jesus as Israel’s Messiah, “all the activity of the Lord our God has passed from the people to the congregation through us the apostles” (‫)שליחא‬,62 a statement that appears to be in line with a 58

Cf. Jones, Ancient Jewish Christian Source, 16; Reed, “Jewish Christianity,” 208–209.

Assigning special status to the Decalogue over the rest of Scripture is known from rabbinic literature also where it is attributed to the minim (y. Ber. 1:5; b. Ber. 12a). P. S. Alexander, “Jewish Believers in Early Rabbinic Literature (2d to 5th Centuries),” in Jewish Believers in Jesus: The Early Centuries (ed. O. Skarsaune and R. Hvalvik; Peabody: Hendrickson, 2007), 659–709, esp. 675, suggests that behind the sharp distinction between the Decalogue and the rest of Scripture lies a very literal understanding of Deut 5:19, which would seem to imply that only the Decalogue was directly spoken by God. 59 The rabbis instead focus on God’s forgiveness of his people directly after the golden calf episode and emphasize that an abundance of laws, rather than being a necessary evil, is an expression of God’s love (m. Mak. 3:16; Sifre Deut §36; b. Men. 43b). In a comment on Exod 34:1 that seems to confirm the view of the minim that only the Decalogue was inscribed on the first stone tablets, it is declared that the second set of stone tablets given as a sign of God’s forgiveness are actually superior to the first set because they include more laws. God says to Moses: “Do not grieve about the first tablets. They only contained the Ten Commandments, but in the two tablets I am about to give you now, there will also be laws (halakhot), interpretation (midrash) and stories (aggadot),” Exod. Rab. 46.1; see M. Simon, Verus Israel: A Study of the Relations between Christians and Jews in the Roman Empire AD 135–425 (London: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 1996), 191.

60 DA 26 CSCO 408:227.

61 Isa 6:9f quoted in DA 26 CSCO 408:228.

62 DA 23 CSCO 408:209. Translation modified upon consultation with the original.

Zetterholm, Alternate Visions of Judaism 143

classic remnant theology. Even the continuation of the passage, according to which God has “abandoned the people of the Jews and the temple, and has come to the congregation of the peoples” is consistent with the idea of a righteous remnant to whom God‘s blessings have been transferred. Thus, along with 5 Ezra, the response of the Didascalia to the fact that not all Jews embraced Jesus falls in the “remnant theology” category, while the position of the Testament and the Homilies are better described as “addition theology.” Whereas the remnant theology position emphasizes that God’s promises and blessings have been transferred to a righteous remnant of Israel (Jesus-oriented Jews) to which Jesusoriented Gentiles have been joined, the “addition theology” position maintains that Jesus-oriented Gentiles have been included in the covenant but non-Jesusoriented Jews still retain their position as God’s chosen people.

Both positions make sense from a Jewish perspective and from within a Jewish worldview, and our instinct to see in the remnant theology position an expression of Christian supersessionism is the consequence of the projection of a later reality onto these texts. At the time the Didascalia was composed it may have been perceived as anti-rabbinic, but hardly un-Jewish or anti-Jewish. It is true that the author/redactor refers to the members of his community as “Christians”—not as opposed to “Jews” but in the sense of “Jesus-oriented,” that is, as a subgroup within Judaism, a certain kind of Judaism as opposed to “rabbinic” and other forms of Judaism. To avoid imposing the modern connotations of Judaism and Christianity as two mutually exclusive categories onto the early centuries C.E., it would be better not to use the term “Christianity” at all when discussing these texts and instead refer to them as “Jesus-oriented,” and the communities as representing forms of “Jesus-Judaism” or “non-rabbinic Judaism.”63 Although this has been pointed out many times before, the term still persists. We must also be careful not to let the rabbinic view define who and what was Jewish and instead widen the term to enable us to see Jesuscenteredness and prophecy-orientation as subgroups under the larger umbrella of Judaism.

The only difference between the remnant theology of the Didascalia and that of the Hebrew Bible and the Qumran literature is that the remnant here also includes Gentiles. The inclusion of Gentiles, however, is also a Jewish idea with roots in the Hebrew Bible. In Exod 19:5, for instance, God’s choice of Israel

63

The confusion caused by the use of the term “Christian” becomes particularly evident when textual parallels between 5 Ezra and the Gospel of Matthew are taken as evidence of “Christian,” in the sense of non-Jewish, authorship of 5 Ezra; see for instance Bergren, Fifth Ezra, 320–21.

144 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

as his special people is motivated by his concern for the whole world (“because all the earth is mine”), an idea that is present also in God’s promises to Abraham, which also concern the nations who will receive their share in God’s blessings through Abraham (Gen 12:3; 17:4–5; 18:18; 22:18). It is evident, then, that whoever authored these passages believed that Israel’s God was also the God of the non-Jews and would eventually have a relation also to them.

The idea of the inclusion of Gentiles in the covenant with Israel’s God seems to have been a concern of significant importance for first-century Jews, and common to the early Jesus-oriented communities with a Jewish self-identity and their heirs was their belief that Jesus had ushered in a new era in the history of Israel and that Gentiles could now share in God’s covenant with Israel through Jesus. Thus, the issues of the status of Gentiles and their relationship to the Torah and to the Jews within the movement were at the heart of the Jesus movement from its very beginning, and the debate continued for several centuries.

One faction within first-century Judaism (the Jesus-believing Pharisees of Acts 15:1, 5)—of which the Homilies and Rec 1.27–71 possibly represent a development—seems to have argued that Jesus-oriented Gentiles must become Torah-observant Jews, while others held that only a certain level of Torah observance was required of Gentiles (abstention from things polluted by idols, fornication and from strangled animals and from blood), a view attributed to Peter (Acts 15:6–12) and likely shared by Paul. The latter position meant that the Gentiles would remain Gentiles and not engage in all the practices of the Jews in the same Jesus-oriented community. This is exactly the kind of community with diverse practices the Didascalia seems to reflect and which the author/redactor is so unhappy about. In contrast to Paul, for whom upholding the distinction between (Jesus-oriented) Jews and Gentiles within the covenant was a necessary condition for the fulfillment of God’s promises to Abraham and therefore one of the foundations on which his whole theology seems to rest,64 the author/redactor of the Didascalia envisions a community of Jesus-adherents in which this distinction is dissolved and both groups keep the “simple law” and engage in the 64

See M. D. Nanos, The Mystery of Romans: The Jewish Context of Paul’s Letter (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996), 175–87 and K. H. Zetterholm, “A Jewish Theology on Jesus,” in Jesus the Jew (The Jewish Museum: Stockholm, 2013), 102–14. See also J. B. Tucker, “Remain in Your Calling”: Paul and the Continuation of Social Identities in I Corinthians (Eugene: Pickwick, 2011), 115–35. A growing number of scholars now consider Paul to have remained within Judaism throughout his life. For a survey of new perspectives on Paul see M. Zetterholm, Approaches to Paul: A Student’s Guide to Paul (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2009), 127–63.

Zetterholm, Alternate Visions of Judaism 145

same practices. In his view, Jews and Gentiles should both be Torah-observant and be so in the same way, but he rejects the idea that Gentiles must become Jews, favoring instead a common identity (“a third race”), the “congregation of God” in his words. This congregation of God consists of Jesus-oriented Jews and Gentiles who together represent the present-day extension of biblical Israel.

Jesus has released Israel from the second legislation, he argues, and since it is to this released community that Gentile Jesus-adherents are merged, they need not observe the laws of the second legislation either. Jesus-oriented Jews and Gentiles are one entity, those called from “the people” and those from “the peoples.” Those Jews who continue to observe laws based on the second legislation deny Jesus’ power to release them from them and by this lack of trust they are guilty of the same lack of trust in God as the Israelites when they worshipped the golden calf. Gentiles who observe the second legislation are likewise guilty of lack of trust in God and undermine the unity of the community as well as the author’s theology. As a result of this aspiration to create an identity common to Jews and Gentiles, the Gentiles who are included in the covenant are merged with Israel—a development to which Paul, for whom the distinction between Jews and Gentiles within the same covenant was not to be dissolved and according to whom the Gentiles never became part of Israel but were to be included in the covenant as Gentiles, would likely have been very strongly opposed.

The insistence by the Homilies and Recognitions on Torah observance for both Jews and Gentiles also results in the construction of a common identity, perceived by the Homilies as Jewish in nature while by the Recognitions rather understood as the dissolution of Jewish and Gentile identities in favor of a common identity of the “true worshipper.” Interestingly, the efforts by the Didascalia, Homilies, and Recognitions to construct a common identity for Jesusoriented Jews and Gentiles seems to indicate that the distinction between Jews and Gentiles still persisted in their communities.

Sadly and paradoxically, the idea of the inclusion of Gentiles carried within it the seed of later Gentile Christian persecution of Jews. Most Jesusoriented communities in antiquity seem to have been made up of a mixture of Jews and Gentiles and in those communities that embraced and developed the “remnant theology” position, emphasizing the continuity between biblical Israel and their own communities, the Gentile Jesus-adherents likely adopted this view from the Jews. As many of these communities became more and more dominated by Gentiles, and Jews increasingly identified with non-Jesus-oriented rabbinic Judaism, a formerly intra-Jewish debate turned into a conflict between Jews and non-Jews and an originally biblical/Jewish theology directed against the

146 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

Jewish people. This must have happened gradually, and over time the distinction between Jews and Gentiles in mixed Jesus-oriented communities likely became somewhat blurred, a circumstance that may account for the difficulties that modern scholars have in deciding whether a given text is Jewish or a product of “Christian” appropriation of a Jewish text.

Redefining ‘Israel’—A Rabbinic Response As a consequence of their conviction that Jesus marked the beginning of a new era of Jewish history, characterized by the inclusion of Gentiles, these Jesusoriented communities developed their respective visions of Israel’s history and destiny. Precisely because of the Jewish character of these rival visions, the rabbis perceived them as a challenge to their version of biblically based Judaism, prompting them to respond.

In a future study I hope to make the case that the Didascalia’s rejection of rabbinic tradition and the appeals by the Homilies and Recognitions to prophetic authority were perceived by the rabbis as a challenge to their interpretive authority, leading them to claim that rabbinic tradition down to its smallest detail was revealed to Moses at Sinai. Below, I will suggest that tractate Sanh. 10:1 of the Mishnah, introduced by the famous statement, “all Israel have a portion in the world to come,” represents a rabbinic redefinition of “Israel,” limiting the category “Israel” to include only those Jews who embraced the rabbinic version of Judaism, in response to Jesus-oriented Jews who claimed a Jewish self-identity but maintained that Jesus-oriented Jews and Gentiles together constituted the continuation and present-day embodiment of biblical Israel.

This argument is based on Israel Yuval’s observation that m. Sanh. 10:1 seems to contain at least two different layers, of which the later one consists of polemics against Jesus-oriented Jews.65 Below is Yuval’s translation of the mishnah with the later additions marked in italics: All Israel have a portion in the world to come, for it is written: And your people, all of the righteous, shall possess the land for all time; they are the shoot that I planted, my handiwork in which I glory [Isa 60:21]. The following have no portion in the world to come: He who denies resurrection as a biblical 65

I. J. Yuval, “All Israel Have a Portion in the World to Come,” in Redefining FirstCentury Jewish and Christian Identities (ed. F. E. Udoh, et al.; Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2008), 114–38.

Zetterholm, Alternate Visions of Judaism 147

doctrine,66 he who maintains that the Torah was not divinely revealed, and an apiqoros. Rabbi Aqiva added: One who reads external books. Also one who whispers [a charm] over a wound and says, I will not bring upon you any of the diseases that I brought upon the Egyptians, for I the Lord am your healer (Exod 15:26). Abba Shaul said: Also one who pronounces the Divine Name as it is spelled.67 The opening phrase, “All Israel have a portion in the world to come,” is missing in some manuscripts, as well as in the Mishnah used by Maimonides, and is absent from the parallel passage in the Tosefta (t. Sanh. 13), indicating that it is a later addition.68 If removed along with the second list of relatively minor sins added by R. Akiva and Abba Shaul, which do not seem to belong with the first list of serious offenses, we are left with a version of the mishnah that is more coherent and better fits the literary context with regard to both content and style.69 The second list of offenses contains rather clear allusions to Jesusoriented Jews. Reading “external books” seems to refer to books other than those of the Hebrew Bible, and likely alludes to the New Testament, and “one who whispers a charm over a wound” almost certainly refers to Jesus-oriented Jews, since this is a characteristic commonly attributed to Jesus-followers in rabbinic

66

Absent in some manuscripts, Yuval, “All Israel,” 120–25.

Yuval, “All Israel,” 114.

68 This was noted also by E. E. Urbach, The Sages: Their Concepts and Beliefs (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1987 [1975]), 991. The promise of salvation to all Israel also contradicts the basic premise of the rabbinic concept of reward and punishment that assigns critical significance to the observance of God’s commandments; Yuval, “All Israel,” 116–17, 131 n. 8.

69 Yuval, “All Israel,” 114–17. Without these additions, the mishnah reads: “The following have no portion in the world to come: He who denies resurrection, he who maintains that the Torah was not divinely revealed, and an apiqoros.” As pointed out by Yuval, the second list of sins makes one wonder why all Israel, including the worst sinners, will enjoy the world to come, while mere browsers of external books, charm whisperers, and magicians are doomed. The polemical character of the statements excluding people from the world to come is also evident from a comment on m. Sanh. 10:1 in the Babylonian Talmud, where scriptural interpretations that deviate from the halakhah are condemned: “He who gives an interpretation of the Torah not according to the halakhah . . . even if he has learning and good deeds to his credit has no portion in the world to come” (b. Sanh.

99a. Cf. m. Avot 3:11, 5:8).

67

148 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

literature.70 A story in the Tosefta with numerous parallels in other rabbinic sources tells about a certain Jacob of Kefar Sama, who came to heal R. Eleazar ben Dama “in the name of Jesus son of Pantera,”71 and in a similar story in the Palestinian Talmud and Ecclesiastes Rabbah, R. Joshua ben Levi’s grandson is healed by someone who “whispered to him in the name of Jesus son of Pandera.”72 That Jesus and his followers were associated with healing and magic is evident also from Christian and pagan sources,73 and belief in the magical power of his name goes back to the New Testament.74 Yuval suggests that the “one who pronounces the Divine Name as it is spelled”75 is also a reference to Jesus-oriented Jews, citing a tradition according to which Jesus performed miracles through the use of the divine name, which he stole from the Rock of Foundation in the temple.76 While this is a possibility, it may also simply be a more general reference to the circles inclined towards mysticism whose adherents engaged in the magical use of the divine name, known from the hekhalot literature.77 As many Jesus-oriented Jews were part of a mystically oriented tradition within Judaism, as evident from pseudepigraphic texts, they are likely included in the larger group of those who “pronounce the Divine Name as it is spelled.”

Since the polemic in this section is clearly aimed at Jesus-oriented Jews, Yuval concludes that the opening phrase, “All Israel have a portion in the world to come,” was likely also added in response to adherents of Jesus.78 By declaring 70

Yuval, “All Israel,” 118; R. Kimelman, “Identifying Jews and Christians in Roman SyriaPalestine,” in Galilee Through the Centuries: Confluence of Cultures (ed. E. M. Meyers; Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1999), 301–33, esp. 326; D. Boyarin, Dying for God: Martyrdom and the Making of Christianity and Judaism (Stanford: Sanford University Press, 1999), 34.

71 t. Hull. 2:22; y. Avod. Zar. 2:2; y. Shabb. 14:4; Eccl. Rab. 1:24; b. Avod. Zar. 27b. On Jesus son of Pantera/Pandera as a reference to the Jesus of the New Testament, see P. Schäfer, Jesus in the Talmud (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2007), 56–57.

72 y. Avod. Zar. 2:2; y. Shabb. 14:4; Eccl. Rab. 10.5; Schäfer, Jesus in the Talmud, 59–60.

73 See Boyarin, Dying for God, 159 n. 57; Kimelman, “Identifying Jews,” 32; Schäfer, Jesus in the Talmud, 102–106 and the references cited there.

74 Acts 3:6, 16; 4:7–10, 30; Mark 9:38–40; Luke 9:49–50.

75 Lit. “according to its letters” = one who pronounces the tetragrammaton; Schäfer, Jesus in the Talmud, 162 n. 7.

76 In Toldot Yeshu; Yuval, “All Israel,” 119.

77 See H. J. Becker, “The Magic of the Name and Palestinian Rabbinic Literature,” in The Talmud Yerushalmi and Graeco-Roman Culture (ed. P. Schäfer; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), 391–407.

78 Yuval, “All Israel,” 119–20.

Zetterholm, Alternate Visions of Judaism 149

“all Israel” to have a portion in the world to come while excluding Jesus-oriented Jews, this mishnah declares that they do not belong to Israel. “All Israel” means rabbinic Jews only, obviating any contradiction, since those listed as having no portion in the world to come are not part of Israel. As noted by Yuval, the phrase “All Israel have a portion in the world to come” seems to echo Paul’s statement in Rom 11:26, “and so all Israel will be saved,” but while “all Israel” for Paul seems to mean ethnic or carnal Israel, that is, the biological descendants of the Israelites present at Sinai,79 the rabbinic statement limits “Israel” to a particular group of Jews who embrace a specific version of Judaism, namely rabbinic Jews.

Thus, whereas Yuval suggests that the Mishnah promises salvation to carnal Israel in response to Paul’s spiritual Israel, it rather appears to be the Mishnah that is limiting salvation to a particular group of Jews.

We know from rabbinic sources also that the rabbis were involved in a struggle with Jesus-oriented Jews over who were the legitimate custodians and interpreters of the biblical promises concerning Israel. As argued by several scholars, rabbinic stories about encounters between rabbis and followers of Jesus, in which the latter engage in rabbinic-style biblical exegesis that pleases the rabbinic protagonists or heal rabbis by invoking the name of Jesus, ultimately concern authority.80 The issue in the healing stories is not the whispering of secret names over a wound per se—this is permitted according to

79

Contrary to Yuval, who following traditional Pauline scholarship understands the phrase to refer to “spiritual Israel,” that is to Jesus-believers. Such an understanding is problematic, however, considering the fact that Paul contrasts “Israel” with “Gentiles” in the immediate context (chapters 10–11). He further argues that the people of Israel indeed have an advantage over non-Jewish disciples of Jesus, since it was with them that God first made a covenant. The fact that all Jews have not accepted Jesus as the Messiah does not repeal God’s promises to them: “As regards the gospel they are enemies of God for your sake; but as regards election they are beloved, for the sake of their ancestors; for the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable” (Rom 11:28–29). It seems evident that Paul is speaking here of Jews who are not disciples of Jesus, promising salvation to “all Israel” in the sense of “carnal Israel,” as part of the divine plan, “I ask, then, has God rejected his people? By no means! I myself am an Israelite, a descendant of Abraham, a member of the tribe of Benjamin. God has not rejected his people whom he foreknew . . .”

(Rom 11:1–2). See K. Stendahl, Final Account: Paul’s Letter to the Romans (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995); M. D. Nanos, The Mystery of Romans (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996), 239–88.

80 Schäfer, Jesus in the Talmud; Boyarin, Dying for God; Kimelman, “Identifying Jews,”; Alexander, “Jewish Believers.”

150 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

the Tosefta and repeated in both Talmuds81—or the healing power of Jesus’ name, which is taken for granted, but the claim of power and authority that come with it. Healing by magic is perfectly all right if performed by a rabbinic Jew, but a serious offense when carried out by someone who does not belong to the community (or rather someone who ought not belong in the view of the rabbis), since the magical power of such a person threatens the authority of the rabbis and their claim to be the leaders of Israel.82 These stories reflect an intraJewish struggle between Jesus-oriented Jews and rabbis over whose version of Judaism is the authentic continuation of biblical tradition, and represent an attempt by the rabbis to establish boundaries by excluding Jesus-oriented Jews and shape Judaism in accordance with a rabbinic definition.83 It does not mean that the rabbis did not consider Jesus-oriented Jews to be Jews. Rather, they were making a deliberate effort to ostracize them precisely because they self-identified as Jews and were seen by others as Jews.84 The proximity and similarity of Jesus-oriented Jews to rabbinic Jews indicated in the Didascalia is implied in these rabbinic stories also and it should not surprise us. If for Jesus-oriented Jews, Jesus was not the singular focus of ideology but rather one concern among many others, and if Jesus-adherence was 81

“[It is permitted to] whisper over an eye, [and over a bite inflicted by] a serpent, and a scorpion and to pass [a remedy] over the eye on the Sabbath”; t. Shabb. 7:23 (translation from Schäfer, Jesus in the Talmud, 52); y. Shabb. 14:3; b. Sanh. 101a (as a baraita).

82 Schäfer, Jesus in the Talmud, 52–53, 105–106. See also Alexander, “Jewish Believers,” 696 and the story from y. Sanh. 7:13 about a competition of magical powers between a rabbi and a min, presumably a Jesus-oriented Jew. The severity of the challenge as perceived by the rabbis is clear from healing stories involving rabbis and Jesus-oriented Jews. In one incident R. Ishmael prevents the healing of his nephew, R. Eleazar ben Dama, and expresses his satisfaction that R. Eleazar died before he could “break down the fence,” that is, transgress the boundary of rabbinic authority (t. Hull. 2.22 and parallels); Schäfer, Jesus in the Talmud, 54–57; Boyarin, Dying for God, 34–35, 159–60 n. 62. In another story R. Joshua ben Levi deplores his grandson’s cure by a Jesus-oriented Jew, wishing that he had instead died (y. Avod. Zar. 2:2 and parallels); Schäfer, Jesus in the Talmud, 60–61. Cf. what Chrysostom writes about the Jews: “If they truly heal, it is better to die than to run to the enemies of God and be healed in this way” (Homilies against the Jews 8), cited by Kimelman, “Identifying Jews,” 325–26.

83 Cf. Schäfer, Jesus in the Talmud, 60.

84 A modern equivalent might be the polemic attempts to delegitimize some Jewish groups, such as R. Eleazar Shach’s declaration that Chabad is the religion theologically closest to Judaism, and the recent statement by R. Shalom Cohen, an influential member of the Israeli political party Shas, that national religious (non-haredi) Israelis are not Jews, but Amalek (The Times of Israel, July 14, 2013).

Zetterholm, Alternate Visions of Judaism 151

not the primary factor in determining which community one joined, this is to be expected. It is likely that initially Jews from a variety of different subgroups were drawn to Jesus, and only after some time were separate Jesus-oriented communities formed. Even after such communities were established, close contacts with rival groups obviously continued and, as pointed out by several scholars, precisely in this proximity lay the danger from the point of view of rabbis and church fathers. In the same way that the members of the Didascalia community who engaged in rabbinic practices threatened the authority and understanding of Judaism of the author of the Didascalia, Jesus-oriented Jews challenged the rabbis’ leadership and version of Judaism. Eventually, attempts by both sides converged to erect boundaries, but these boundaries were not yet there in the third and fourth centuries.85 Thus, the problem with Jesus-oriented Jews from a rabbinic perspective was not their belief that Jesus was the Messiah, or differences in practice or scriptural interpretation, but rather their adherence to an interpretive authority other than the rabbinic collectivity. Appeals to prophetic authority (Homilies and Recognitions) or promotion of an interpretive authority with Jesus as the hermeneutic key (Didascalia) undermine rabbinic authority, since they deny the rabbis’ claim to be the rightful interpreters and custodians of the divine word and the right to interpret and legislate given to them by God at Sinai, as articulated in tannaitic sources: “Rabbi says: This is to proclaim the excellence of the Israelites, for when they all stood before Mount Sinai to receive the Torah they interpreted the divine word as soon as they heard it.”86 The rabbis viewed themselves as part of an unbroken, living chain of Torah interpretation extending back to and deriving from Sinai. As the presentday extension of the biblical elders who accompanied Moses onto Mount Sinai (Exod 24:1, 9) and were appointed leaders and judges by him (Exod 18:23–26; Num 11:16–25; Deut 1:9–18), and as the successors of the prophets and the men of the Great Assembly (m. Avot 1:1–2:8), the rabbis claimed to be the legitimate leaders of Israel and entrusted with the authority to both transmit and interpret the Torah.87 Having been empowered with the authority to interpret and 85

See D. Boyarin, Border Lines: The Partition of Judaeo-Christianity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004); C. E. Fonrobert, “Jewish Christians, Judaizers, and Christian Anti-Judaism,” in Late Ancient Christianity (ed. V. Burrus; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2005), 234–25; Kimelman, “Identifying Jews,” 301–33.

86 Mekh. R. Ishmael Bahodesh 9 (Lauterbach 2:267). Cf. Sifre Deut §313.

87 S. D. Fraade, From Tradition to Commentary: Torah and Its Interpretation in the Midrash Sifre to Deuteronomy (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1991), 69–79.

Although the common dating of Avot, ranging from the early or mid-third to the early

152 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

legislate at the very moment of revelation, they saw their understanding of the Torah as part of divine revelation itself.

Adherence to an interpretive authority other than the collectivity of the rabbis, whether or nor it led to a different halakhic ruling, would be seen to pose a threat, since such an authority could not be assumed to embrace rabbinic authority claims, and thus potential threatened the legitimacy of the rabbinic version of Judaism. To follow rabbinic practice while at the same time being involved with a Jesus-oriented community would be problematic from a rabbinic perspective, not because of the belief that Jesus was the Messiah, but because of the rejection of rabbinic authority that such an involvement implied.

By excluding Jesus-oriented Jews from the category of Israel, the rabbis deprived them of any legitimacy, since they were no longer considered as belonging to the descendants of the Israelites who received the Torah at Sinai and to whom the exclusive right to interpret the Torah was given. The need to exclude them may have become particularly pressing given the redefinition by some Jesus-oriented Jews (Homilies and Recognitions) of a Jew as someone who observes the commandments of the Torah, whether Jew or Gentile by birth.

All this suggests that the inner-Jewish struggle over the correct interpretation of Judaism and what it meant to be God’s special people between rabbis and Jesus-oriented Jews contributed to the shaping of a rabbinic Jewish identity to a much larger extent than has hitherto been recognized. It is sometimes claimed that while the “Christians” had to define themselves over and against Judaism, the rabbis had no such need and largely ignored the

fourth century, has recently been challenged by G. Stemberger, “Mischna Avot: Frühe Weisheitsschrift, pharisäisches Erbe oder spätrabbinische Bildung?,” Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde det älteren Kirche 96 (2005): 243–58, who sees it primarily as an anti-Karaite response, the fact that the third-century Homilies, redacted in the early fourth century, is familiar with the main claims of the chain of Torah transmission (Hom 2.38, 3.47) speaks against the claim that this idea became widespread only in the sixth and seventh centuries (pp. 250, 255). On the contrary, the chain of Torah transmission fits well into the polemical climate that saw the production of apostolic succession lists by various Christian groups in order to prove the authenticity of their teachings; see A. Tropper, “Tractate Avot and Early Christian Succession Lists,” in The Ways That Never Parted, 159–88. This trend reached its peak in the late third and the early fourth century when various Jesus-oriented Jewish texts like the Didascalia, Homilies, and Recognitions were likewise preoccupied with apostolic succession; see DA CSCO 401:9–10; 408:7–8; Reed, “Counter-history,” 173–216; Kelley, Knowledge, 208–12.

In this context the chain of Torah transmission in Avot could be seen as a rabbinic polemic claim to authenticity.

Zetterholm, Alternate Visions of Judaism 153

“Christians,” who were not a significant factor in the early centuries C.E. anyway.88 But if these Jesus-oriented communities were not separate social entities representing a different religion, “Christianity,” but Torah-observant (although not necessarily in a rabbinic way) individuals and groups with a Jewish self-identity, their claims to represent the present-day extension of biblical Israel and thus authentic Judaism is much more likely to have been perceived by the rabbis as a challenge. The fact that these Jesus-oriented communities were made up of a mixture of Jews and Gentiles would not have made any difference. The inclusion of Gentiles in the covenant with Israel’s God was a Jewish concern in antiquity, and a vision of Judaism that made them part of the people of God would have been seen as legitimate and profoundly Jewish.

www.jjmjs.org

88

For instance, A. Schremer, Brothers Estranged: Heresy, Christianity, and Jewish Identity in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010).

The Jewish Annotated New Testament: A Review Article Craig A. Evans Acadia Divinity College | evansca@eastlink.ca JJMJS No. 1 (2014): 154–166

The Jewish Annotated New Testament (New Revised Standard Version), edited

by A.-J. Levine and M. Z. Brettler. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011. Pp. xxvii + 637. US $35.00. ISBN 978-0-19-529770-6 The Jewish Annotated New Testament (JANT) makes a wonderful contribution to Jewish appreciation of the New Testament, on the one hand, and Christian appreciation of the Jewish dimension of New Testament literature, Jesus, and his disciples, on the other. Editors Amy-Jill Levine and Marc Zvi Brettler and JANT’s many contributors are Jewish, and most are well known scholars of early Judaism and related movements and literatures. Some of these scholars include Alan Avery-Peck, Herbert Basser, Shaye Cohen, Michael Cook, Pamela Eisenbaum, Adam Gregerman, Tal Ilan, Adele Reinhartz, and Claudia Setzer.

This is the first time that something of this nature has been undertaken.

The principal components of JANT comprise an Editors’ Preface, introductions to and annotations on all 27 books of the New Testament, 18 essays at the end of the book, and a very helpful glossary. Most of the essays are written by yet another roster of distinguished Jewish scholars, including Daniel Boyarin, Martin Goodman, Lee Levine, Daniel Schwartz, and the late Geza Vermes, among others. The topics of these essays are well chosen, including “The Law,” “The Synagogue,” “Messianic Movements,” “Afterlife and Resurrection,” “Paul and Judaism,” and several other important subjects. JANT uses the New Revised Standard Version.

All of the New Testament writings are individually introduced with two or three (and sometimes more) pages that discuss authorship, date, setting, place in the New Testament, major themes, and relationship to Judaism. The introduction is followed by the New Testament writing with annotations gathered at the bottom of each page, linked to given passages. These annotations occupy anywhere from one quarter to one half of a given page. The annotations

Evans, The Jewish Annotated New Testament 155

emphasize the Jewish nature of the New Testament passage under review, though important non-Jewish background and parallels are also provided.

Several shaded text boxes, maps, and diagrams are included. The cover, the type face, the layout, and the aforementioned boxes, maps, and diagrams create a very attractive book.

Before reviewing a selection of the New Testament writings and the way they are treated, I should say a few things about the Editors’ Preface, which so helpfully lays out the goals of JANT. The first goal is to highlight “aspects of first- and second-century Judaism that enrich the understanding of the New Testament” (p. xi). These aspects include customs, literature, and interpretation of biblical (i.e., Old Testament) texts. The annotations and essays frequently appeal to extra-biblical Jewish works, such as the Dead Sea Scrolls, the writings of Philo and Josephus, the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha, the Targumim (i.e., Aramaic paraphrases of the Hebrew Bible), and early rabbinic literature, such as the Mishnah.

The editors point out what is obvious to scholars—but not always to non-experts—when they inform readers that Jesus and his earliest followers, such as his apostles and Paul, were Jews and that New Testament writings such as Matthew, John, James, Revelation, and others were in all probability composed by first-century Jews. Even the non-Jewish writer who composed Luke-Acts was heavily influenced by Jewish tradition and was steeped in the Greek translation of Hebrew Scripture, the Septuagint. The so-called “parting of the ways” between Jews who rejected Jesus and Jews and non-Jews who embraced Jesus had not yet occurred at the time of the writing of the New Testament books. Levine and Brettler rightly and helpfully remark that “understanding the diverse Jewish populations of the early Roman Empire— their habits, their conventions, their religious practices—is as crucial to understanding the New Testament writing as is general familiarity with the Roman world” (p. xi). Academics know this; the general public often does not.

The editors provide a second reason for the word “Jewish” in the title of JANT. They and their colleagues “highlight connections between the New Testament material and later Jewish (especially rabbinic) literature, so readers can track similar as well as distinct ideas across time” (p. xi). By doing this, Jewish and non-Jewish readers will discover how often New Testament literature bears witness to the development of Jewish ideas, bridging the gap, as it were, between the Hebrew Bible and the rabbinic tradition. New Testament literature, moreover, does not simply bear witness to this tradition, it often presupposes it and regards it as normative. (David’s close association with the Psalter is cited as an example.)

156 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

A third and very important goal of JANT is to address “problems that Jewish readers in particular find in reading the New Testament, especially in passages that have been used to perpetuate anti-Judaism and the stereotypes that non-Jewish readers sometimes bring to the texts” (p. xi). The editors explain that passages that seem to promote anti-Jewish polemic, such as we find in Matthew, John, and even in a passage or two in Paul, are given special attention. In some cases the contributors to JANT show that these polemical texts are typical of the rhetoric and hyperbole often employed in late antiquity, and in other cases the contributors show that polemical texts have been misunderstood and misapplied

by Christians and others in later times. (Below I shall look at some of these texts and consider how they are interpreted.) The editors generously remark that the “annotations and essays should provide guidance to Christian teachers and preachers, so that when they proclaim the ‘good news’ . . . of Jesus, they will not stain the good news by anti-Jewish stereotypes” (p. xii). Christian scholars will heartily agree.

There is little doubt that the annotations and essays fulfill the editors’ three stated purposes. But the Editors’ Preface has a lot more to say. “Indeed, for many Jews, including the editors of this volume, study of the New Testament also has made us better, more informed Jews” (p. xii). What a delightful statement. As a Christian scholar, I readily agree with it. But I also know that for many Jews such a statement will be difficult to accept. This is because many Jews hold to very negative stereotypes of Christians and Christian Scripture, just as many Christians hold to very negative stereotypes of Jews and, sometimes, even the Hebrew Bible itself.

The editors, of course, are fully aware of how controversial their statement about being made “better, more informed Jews” by careful study of the New Testament will be. They quickly go on to point out that “many of the passages in the New Testament provide an excellent encapsulation of basic, ongoing Jewish values” (p. xii), such as love of God and love of neighbor, righteousness, longing for the kingdom of God, and repair of the world. The editors remark that it is “very possible for the non-Christian to respect a great deal of the (very Jewish) message of much of the New Testament, without worshiping the messenger” (p. xii). There is much about the New Testament and the Christian tradition in general that can (and should) be respected and appreciated without necessarily embracing the Christian faith. The editors remind readers of the contributions that Christians have made to art, music, and literature, among many other things.

The editors hope, from a Jewish point of view, to remove the fear of reading the New Testament. Indeed, they “strongly believe that Jews should

Evans, The Jewish Annotated New Testament 157

understand the Christian Bible” (p. xii). The editors provide good reasons for this belief, asserting that “it is difficult for Jews to understand their neighbors, and the broader society of which Jewish citizens are a part, without familiarity with the New Testament” (p. xii). They point out the reciprocity in this thinking: “Just as we Jews wish our neighbors to understand our texts, beliefs, and practices, we should understand the basics of Christianity” (p. xii). How very true.

The editors provide yet more reasons that justify the production of JANT. They note that increasing numbers of Jews are undertaking serious academic study of the New Testament and the early Christian movement—and they are doing this from a sympathetic, not antagonistic, point of view. The mere fact of so many Jewish scholars with competence in New Testament studies makes a project like JANT possible. Only a generation ago scholars like David Daube and Samuel Sandmel were something of a rarity. Not so today. The editors further assert that “there is much in the New Testament that we find both beautiful and meaningful” (p. xiii). Paul’s definition and description of love (1 Cor 13:4–7) is then quoted.

The editors conclude by expressing their hope that readers “will learn to appreciate that significant sections of the New Testament derive from the heart of Judaism, and that they will be able to understand these texts without importing false notions of the tradition of Jesus and his earliest followers” (p. xiii). Every Christian scholar shares this hope. The editors add their “hope that this volume will make the New Testament more welcoming to Jewish readers” (p. xiii). This hope is noble and generous.

As might be expected, I begin my review of the respective introductions and annotations with the Gospel of Matthew, the most Jewish of the four New Testament Gospels. Aaron Gale has written the introduction and annotations.

The principal points of his introduction (pp. 1–2), if conventional, are concise and balanced. He dates the Gospel of Matthew to 80–90 C.E., which I think is unnecessarily late, but other scholars will agree with him. Gale finds a setting in Syria plausible, though he acknowledges the possibility of a Galilean setting. He rightly notes the five discourses of Matthew, each concluding with the Mosaic phrase, “when (Jesus) finished.” Gale further notes how extensively the Matthean evangelist engages with Scripture, citing or alluding to it some 50 times, and making a number of comparisons between Jesus and Moses.

Gale’s summary of Matthew’s Christology is as accurate and insightful as it is concise: “Matthew presents Jesus as the divine Son of God who will save his people. . . . The concept of Jesus as the shekhinah, the physical manifestation of the divine presence, frames Matthew’s entire Gospel . . . as the Son of God and

158 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

the incarnation of the divine on earth, Jesus thus replaces the Temple as the locus of the divine presence” (p. 2).

Gale treats the controversial “blood cry” in Matt 27:25 (“His blood be on us and on our children,” ESV, used throughout) with nuance, carefully considering the historical setting. Gale, along with virtually all Christian interpreters, does not see in this cry a condemnation of Jewish people for all time. In fact, it is not a condemnation at all. For the evangelist Matthew, the cry reflects the calamity of 70 C.E., when Roman troops captured Jerusalem, destroyed the temple, and killed or took prisoner thousands of Jews. Having rejected God’s Messiah, whose mission is to save God’s people (Matt 1:21), those who cried for Jesus’ death have chosen the very alternative of which Jesus warned: destruction. In no wise does this “blood cry” apply to all Jews for all time. Indeed, it probably alludes to Jer 26:15 (as Gale notes in his annotations), where Jeremiah warns the people of Jerusalem in his time: “Only know for certain that if you put me to death, you will bring innocent blood upon yourselves and upon this city and its inhabitants, for in truth the Lord sent me to you to speak all these words in your ears.” The prophet narrowly escapes death but the city of Jerusalem does not. Matthew, who is fond of typology, sees Jewish history repeating itself. Just as first-temple Jerusalem rejected God’s prophet and so suffered destruction, so second-temple Jerusalem has rejected God’s prophet and again has suffered destruction. Behind the words of Matt 27 is no antiSemitism and no categorical rejection and condemnation of the Jewish people.

Such an idea would have been abhorrent to the evangelist Matthew. Indeed, when the risen Jesus sends forth his apostles to “make disciples of all nations” (Matt 28:18–20), the mission to Israel is still very much in view. “The mission to Israel,” Gale rightly comments, “is never abrogated” (p. 54). The mission that had originally been limited to Israel (as in Matt 10:5–6) has been expanded to include Gentiles.

Adele Reinhartz’s introduction to and annotations of the Gospel of John are remarkably insightful and nuanced. At six pages (pp. 152–57) her introduction is one of the longest in JANT. Like most Johannine scholars, Reinhartz sees in John a complicated history of composition, completed c. 85–95 C.E. Like most scholars, again, she doubts the tradition that ascribes the Gospel to John the son of Zebedee, one of Jesus’ original apostles. More controversially, Reinhartz thinks it likely that the author was not one of Jesus’ original followers or an eyewitness. I think it is probable that the author was an eyewitness, though neither a Galilean nor one of the Twelve. The suggestion of Lazarus, which is made from time to time, is worth considering. After all, if I may appeal to Reinhartz herself, the “Gospel of John reflects deep and broad knowledge of

Evans, The Jewish Annotated New Testament 159

Jerusalem, Jewish practice, and methods of biblical interpretation” (p. 154). I fully agree. The best explanation for this “deep and broad knowledge of Jerusalem” in John is eyewitness tradition. This does not mean that the author of the final version that we have was an eyewitness—the conclusion of chapter 20, not to mention the appended chapter 21, suggests that the authority behind the Johannine tradition was in fact not the author of the Gospel—it only means that a core of eyewitness tradition lies at the heart of the material that in time came to be shaped as the Gospel we now have. This perspective is also consistent with the sensible conclusion Reinhartz reaches with regard to the question of John’s relationship to the Jewish people.

Of great importance in the study of the Gospel of John is the thorny question of the author’s relationship with and attitude toward the Jewish people.

This question is pressing, for several times the Gospel refers very negatively to the “Jews” (Ioudaioi). Are these negative references evidence of an anti-Jewish or anti-Semitic stance on the part of the author and his community? A number of scholars think so. The view taken by Reinhartz, however, is far more nuanced and qualified. She of course acknowledges that the “negative role played by ‘the Jews’ in the narrative suggests that the text was written in a context of overt conflict between Jews and the members of the Johannine community” (p. 154).

That there is sharp conflict, even bitter recriminations, there can be no doubt.

But does this conflict grow out of Gentile hatred of the Jewish people? Not at all.

Reinhartz reasonably surmises that the “Gospel of John reflects a stage in the process by which Johannine believers came to see themselves as separate from and, to some extent, over and against Jews and Judaism . . . the Gospel reflects an inner-Jewish controversy but not a widespread or even local parting of the ways” (p. 154).

In this connection one should recall the angry polemic found in the Hebrew Bible itself, where the prophets (who are Israelites!) castigate fellow Israelites. An angry Isaiah says of his own people: “Ah, sinful nation, a people laden with iniquity, offspring of evildoers, sons who deal corruptly” (Isa 1:4a).

Elsewhere the prophet describes Israel as “a rebellious people, lying children, children unwilling to hear the instruction of the Lord” (Isa 30:9a). The later Isaianic tradition adds to the invective: “But you, draw near, sons of the sorceress, offspring of the adulterer and the loose woman. . . . Are you not children of transgression, the offspring of deceit . . . ?” (Isa 57:3–5). A century later, Jeremiah declares: “All the house of Israel are uncircumcised in heart” (Jer 9:26). Isaiah is so angry at Israel’s sin that he petitions God not to forgive them (2:9). Similarly, Jeremiah declares that God commanded him not to pray for

160 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

Israel (7:16; 11:14). Jeremiah even asks God to hand Judah and Jerusalem over to destruction (18:21).

The prophets even speak of Israel’s rejection: “For you have rejected your people, the house of Jacob” (Isa 2:6); “The Lord rejected all the descendants of Israel” (2 Kgs 17:20); and, from Hosea: My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge; because you have rejected knowledge, I reject you from being priest to me.

And since you have forgotten the law of your God, I also will forget your children. (4:6) There are no statements in the New Testament that approximate these angry expressions. Unlike Isaiah and Jeremiah, Jesus commanded his disciples to forgive (Matt 6:14–15). Unlike Jeremiah, Jesus teaches his disciples to pray for their enemies (Matt 5:44). Indeed, according to Luke (23:34), Jesus prayed that those who called for his death be forgiven. Never does Jesus ask God to deliver up to death Israelites, or any people (cf. Luke 9:51–56). He warns of coming judgment, and weeps because of it (Luke 19:41–44; cf. 13:34; 23:28–31). Never do Jesus or any of the writers of the New Testament say that Israel has been rejected. Indeed, Paul proclaims the precise opposite: “I ask, then, has God rejected his people? By no means!” (Rom 11:1).

Criticisms and vilifications such as these are given even sharper and more insulting forms in the literature of Qumran. According to the Rule of the Community: And let him undertake by the Covenant to be separated from all perverse men who walk in the way of wickedness.

For they are not counted in His Covenant: For they have not inquired nor sought Him concerning His precepts in order to know the hidden matters in which they have guiltily strayed; and they have treated with insolence matters revealed that Wrath might rise unto judgment and vengeance be exercised by the curses of the Covenant, and solemn judgment be fulfilled against them unto eternal destruction, leaving no remnant. (1QS 5:10–13)

Evans, The Jewish Annotated New Testament 161

Harsh statements such as these are found elsewhere in the Rule of the Community and in other sectarian writings from Qumran (including the Hodayot, the Pesharim, and the Damascus Covenant).

The polemic found in the writings of Qumran surpasses in intensity that of the New Testament. In contrast to Qumran’s esoteric and exclusive posture, the early church proclaimed its message and invited all to join its fellowship. Never does the New Testament enjoin Christians to curse unbelievers or opponents. Never does the New Testament petition God to damn the enemies of the church. But Qumran did.

Very sharp polemic is also found in Josephus, who criticizes fellow Jews in very harsh ways. He calls Justus of Tiberias “a charlatan and a demagogue and a deceiver” (Life 40). Of the zealots who attempted to liberate Israel from Roman authority (66–70 C.E.), Josephus says: “What deed that (Moses) has cursed have you left undone? . . . In rapine and murder you vie with one another” (J.W. 5.400–402). The zealots and Sicarii are “imposters and brigands” (2.264), “slaves, the dregs of society, and the bastard scum of the nation” (5.443–444). (For a full discussion of this kind of polemic and vilification, see L. T. Johnson, “The New Testament’s Anti-Jewish Slander and the Conventions of Ancient Polemic,” Journal of Biblical Literature 108 [1989]: 419–41.)

The polemic that we find in Matthew, John, Paul, and the book of Revelation is mild stuff compared to the polemic of the classical prophets and the later literature that is approximately contemporary with Jesus and the early church. The polemic of the New Testament needs to be viewed in its context and its rhetorical and hyperbolic nature appreciated for what it is. Reinhartz does just that in her treatment of the Gospel of John.

Reinhartz views the polemic of John as localized, inner-Jewish polemic.

She rightly recognizes that references to “the Jews” (hoi Ioudaioi) usually are regional, that is, Judeans, as opposed to Galileans or Samaritans. But “the Jews” sometimes stand in contrast to those who follow Jesus. “The effect is to distance the reader from any group designated as hoi Ioudaioi, regardless of the specific referent” (p. 156). In this I think Reinhartz is correct.

Even the angry denunciation of the Pharisees in John 8:44, “You are of your father the devil, and your will is to do your father’s desires,” is not seen as anti-Semitic. It is reflective of the polemic and rhetoric we have observed in some of the examples found in the Hebrew Bible, in the Dead Sea Scrolls, and in Josephus. None of the writers of these literatures is anti-Semitic; neither is the Johannine evangelist. At most the Gospel of John is “‘anti-Jewish,’ insofar as it declares that Jews who do not believe in Jesus as the Christ and Son of God thereby relinquish their covenantal relationship with God” (p. 156). That is, John

162 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

opposes the Jews who reject Jesus, but the Gospel “is not anti-Semitic in a racial sense” (p. 156). Reinhartz’s distinction is an important one. The author of the Gospel of John in essence is saying, “I reject your theology, your understanding of God’s requirements, your understanding of salvation.” He is not saying that he rejects the Jewish people.

The pathos we find in Paul’s Letter to the Romans exemplifies in some ways what we have observed in the Gospels of Matthew and John. Paul the apostle, formerly Saul the Pharisee, zealous for the law of Moses, declares his love for his people Israel, the very people who have rejected Jesus the Messiah. He is willing to be lost that his fellow Israelites be saved (see Rom 9:1–5; 10:1–4). He warns Gentile Christians not to be arrogant with respect to Israel, affirming that Israel’s spiritual blindness is only temporary and that someday “all Israel will be saved” (11:17–27). God has certainly not rejected his people (11:1–2). Ethnic Israel remains “beloved” of God, “for the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable” (11:28–29). It is hard to make it much clearer.

At first glance Paul’s angry outburst in 1 Thessalonians seems inconsistent with his deeply expressed love for the Jewish people expressed in Romans. In 1 Thess 2:14–16, Paul angrily denounces the Jews, “who killed both the Lord Jesus and the prophets, and drove us out, and displease God and oppose all mankind by hindering us from speaking to the Gentiles so that they might be saved—so as always to fill up the measure of their sins. But wrath has come upon them at last!”

The suddenness and intensity of this passage have led some scholars to suspect that it is a non-Pauline interpolation. David Sandmel, who introduces and comments on 1 Thessalonians and who acknowledges the scholarly discussion concerning 1 Thess 2:14–16, rightly in my opinion accepts the passage as genuinely Pauline. Sandmel notes that Paul sometimes expressed sharp criticism and polemic and that in the present passage Paul likely is referring only to some of the Jews in Jerusalem and Judea who had opposed, at times violently, the young church. (See Sandmel’s shaded text box on p. 374.)

The passage is polemical to be sure, but it is not anti-Semitic.

Pamela Eisenbaum observes that the Letter to the Hebrews “is often perceived as the New Testament’s most anti-Jewish text” (p. 406). Some think this because Hebrews can easily be read as promoting supersessionism, that is, the idea that the Jewish people are no longer God’s people but have been replaced by Christians (an understanding, I might add, that is not consistent with what Paul states in Rom 11). Eisenbaum notes that recently, “scholars have made efforts to address the problem of anti-Judaism in Hebrews and have attempted to offer alternative understandings” (p. 407).

Evans, The Jewish Annotated New Testament 163

What lies at the heart of a supersessionist reading of Hebrews is not simply Christology, in which Jesus is declared superior to angels, Moses, the prophets, and the priesthood. It is the claim that the old covenant (i.e., the Sinai covenant) has faded away and has been replaced by the “new covenant” established in Jesus’ sacrificial death and continuing heavenly priestly intercession (see esp. Heb 8:13). But this theology is hardly anti-Jewish; it is simply the claim that the promised new covenant of Jer 31:31 has been fulfilled in Jesus. Even some of Qumran’s scrolls speak of a “new covenant” (e.g., CD 6:19; 19:33; 20:12; 1QpHab 2:3) or the covenant “renewed” (e.g., 1QSb 3:26; 5:5, 21). The men of Qumran believed that in their community and in their study of Scripture and the re-establishment of righteous law-based works, the new covenant was in the process of being brought about. This does not mean that the Jewish people were being “replaced”; it means the new covenant of which Jeremiah spoke is coming to fulfillment. To view Hebrews as anti-Jewish or antiSemitic in any kind of racial way is to foist an alien and anachronistic perspective on this book.

Lastly, I want to review briefly what David Frankfurter has to say about the book of Revelation, a book that has intrigued and baffled interpreters ever since it was first circulated. Because twice in Revelation we hear angry reference to a “synagogue of Satan” (Rev 2:9; 3:9), some interpreters think we have here evidence of anti-Semitism, as though we have Gentile Christians vilifying Jewish congregations as synagogues of Satan. Frankfurter completely disagrees with this line of interpretation. In his view, the “synagogue of Satan” of which the author of Revelation (whose Jewish name is John) speaks is made up of non-Jews, who falsely claim to be Jews or follow Jewish practices very inadequately: “John criticizes those who are not Jews but only label themselves so” (p. 464).

Frankfurter avers that “Revelation shows no sense of a Christianity, or even of a Jesus-devotion, unmoored from Judaism” (p. 464). He is surely correct, for this perspective explains the pervasive Jewish symbolism that runs throughout the book of Revelation. The chosen are said to be twelve thousand souls from each of the twelve tribes (Rev 7:4–8). The “names of the twelve tribes of the sons of Israel” will be inscribed on the twelve gates of the new city of Jerusalem (Rev 21:12). Taken at face value, such language presupposes a thoroughly Jewish community focused on Jesus and anticipating his return and the restoration of Jerusalem (perhaps in response to the destruction of Jerusalem and the temple in 70 C.E.).

Of the several essays that bring JANT to a close the first one, by editor A.-J. Levine, is probably the most important. The provocative title of this essay is sure to catch every reader’s attention: “Bearing False Witness: Common Errors

164 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

Made about Early Judaism” (pp. 501–4). This essay, more than all the others, primarily has in mind Christian readers of JANT. Levine rightly comments that often “out of ignorance many pastors and religious educators strip Jesus from his Jewish context and depict that context in false and noxious stereotypes” (p. 501).

She is quite correct; I myself have many, many times cringed at the distortions and caricatures in comments made by well-meaning and sincere Christians, by laity and clergy alike, and, alas, even by academics. Levine is not talking about technical aspects of scholarly discussion, where new discoveries can lead to new, more precise insights. All of us from time to time will have our understanding updated and modified. What Levine is talking about is gross ignorance of Jewish thought, beliefs, customs, practices, traditions, and history, about which anyone can read if one makes some effort and spends some time. So why the ignorance?

Levine offers five reasons.

First, Levine points out that few Christian seminaries and divinity schools educate their students about Judaism, whether from the time of Jesus or later. She notes that the Association of Theological Schools in the U.S. and Canada, the body that accredits divinity schools, does not require students to learn “how to avoid anti-Jewish preaching and teaching” (p. 501). I fully support her concern. In my view, teaching students about Judaism in the time of Jesus and in the early centuries of the Christian church will not only instruct students in how to avoid anti-Jewish teaching, it will also provide them with very positive and necessary context for appreciating the writings of the New Testament more fully. In other words, in addressing the problem Levine has identified, the actual goals of Christian divinity curriculum will be realized more fully. There is no downside here.

Second, Levine notes that although some church denominations and bodies do have guidelines relating to how to represent Jews and Judaism, their clergy do not always know these guidelines. Surely this problem can be addressed. Levine also calls our attention, thirdly, to the new challenges faced as Christianity grows in Africa, Asia, and in other contexts where Western education and its knowledge of the Holocaust are less pervasive. She scores a very important point here. In some of these settings there are present tribalism and ethnic hostilities, in which forms of racism, including anti-Semitism, could easily take root. Fourth, Levine worries that preaching, in which the Bible is applied to current social issues, is not always careful to distinguish past quarrels and controversies involving Judaism from contemporary Judaism, with which the church really has no quarrel. Fifth, Levine worries that ahistorical preaching and teaching often treat time-specific statements, like the blood cry in Matt 27 or the anti-Pharisaic polemic in John 8, as gnomic utterances that apply to all Jews

Evans, The Jewish Annotated New Testament 165

in all times. Careless preaching and teaching like this can unwittingly foster antiJewish thinking.

Levine also identifies a number of stereotypes that should be avoided.

These include above all the false dichotomy between law and grace (i.e., Judaism is all about law; Judaism has no grace). Growing out of this false dichotomy is a whole series of unfair generalizations. These include the ideas that Judaism is all about works; that the purity laws of Torah are unjust and burdensome; that Judaism was misogynist; that Jewish divorce law was unfair to women; that Jewish society was harsh and callous toward the marginal; that most Jews longed for a militant, violent Messiah; that God was transcendent and remote; that the temple system was hopelessly corrupt; and that Judaism was narrow, clannish, and exclusivistic. Levine’s catalogue offers a great deal of grist for the mill. I appreciate her generosity of spirit when she explains, in conclusion, that more careful study of the New Testament and the Jewish world of which it is a part should “prevent the false teaching that deforms the ‘good news’ of Jesus” (p. 504).

The remaining essays are informative and helpful. Early Jewish literature, the history between the Old and New Testaments, what Judaism is, the meaning of Ioudaioi, the law of Moses, food and table fellowship, and Jewish family life are some of the topics these essays address. JANT is so well conceived and written it could serve as a textbook in courses that introduce the New Testament, as well as in courses concerned with Jewish and Christian beginnings. Indeed, Christian teachers should consider using JANT as the recommended version of the New Testament for all New Testament courses, whether introductory or upper-level electives.

I could easily go on and on, but it’s time to bring this review to a close. I know editors Amy-Jill Levine personally and Marc Brettler by reputation, and have always found them to be careful, competent, fair scholars and very cordial and respected colleagues. We owe them and their many contributors our thanks for putting together such a useful and positive contribution to New Testament interpretation and to much better, more accurate, and fairer Jewish and Christian understanding. I recommend this book enthusiastically and without reservation.

Before concluding this review I should briefly mention a related book that is well worth consulting. I refer to The Jewish Jesus: Revelation, Reflection, Reclamation (Shofar Supplements in Jewish Studies; West Lafayette, IN: Purdue University Press, 2011), edited by Zev Garber. Some of the contributors to JANT appear in this book (e.g., Herbert Basser and Michael Cook). Many of the contributors are Jewish, though not all. All contributors are recognized scholars of either Judaica or the Judaic background of the early Christian movement and

166 JJMJS No. 1 (2014)

its literature. The purpose of The Jewish Jesus is basically the same as that of JANT: to improve Jewish understanding of Jesus and to make Christians more aware of the Jewish heritage of Jesus and his movement. As does JANT, The Jewish Jesus succeeds in its purpose.

www.jjmjs.org

Issue 1 (2014)

Introducing JJMJS: A New Interdisciplinary Journal Eschatology and Messianism in the Gabriel Inscription TORLEIF ELGVIN Paul’s Non-Jews Do Not Become ‘Jews,’ But Do They Become ‘Jewish’?

MARK NANOS Shared Interpretive Traditions of Joseph’s ‘s w f r o s u /n h ’ and ‘Silence’ in De Iosepho and the Testament of Joseph DIETER ROTH The Epistle of James as a Witness to Broader Patterns of Jewish Exegetical Discourse SERGE RUZER Heresy Without Orthodoxy: Josephus and the Rabbis on the Dangers of Illegitimate Jewish Beliefs JONATHAN KLAWANS Alternative Visions of Judaism and Their Impact on the Formation of Rabbinic Judaism KARIN HEDNER ZETTERHOLM The Jewish Annotated New Testament: A Review Article CRAIG A. EVANS

ISSN 2374-7870