Part I<\/p>\n
THE ANCIENT NEAR EASTERN CONTEXT OF PROPHECY<\/p>\n
COMPARING PROPHETIC SOURCES: PRINCIPLES AND A TEST CASE<\/p>\n
Martti Nissinen<\/p>\n
1. Ancient Near Eastern Prophecy as the Context of Biblical Prophecy<\/p>\n
1.1. Prophetic Studies in Transition<\/p>\n
Increasing knowledge of ancient Near Eastern prophetic texts has during the last couple of decades led to a growing awareness of prophecy in the ancient kingdoms of Israel and Judah as an integral rather than antagonistic factor in the Near Eastern socio-religious milieu. Thanks to the much-improved documentation, it can be seen today better than ever that the biblical text demonstrates the Near Eastern cultural roots of prophecy in Israel and Judah in multiple ways. On the other hand, however, the biblical text also introduces features of prophecy difficult to explain on the basis of the common Near Eastern background. Hence, the age-old question of comparability of the biblical text with other Near Eastern material inescapably raises itself, with high expectations. Given this propitious research situation, it is my purpose in this essay to outline some methodological principles of such comparison, as well as to present a test case which I hope to be helpful in clarifying these principles.
\nThe selection of ancient Near Eastern documents of prophecy that we have at our disposal at the beginning of the third millennium CE is well known already and need not be described here in detail; suffice it to repeat the common knowledge that there are two corpora of Mesopotamian prophetic documents, one found in the archives of the Old Babylonian state of Mari from the eighteenth century BCE (Durand 1988), and another in the archives of the Neo-Assyrian empire in Nineveh from the seventh century BCE (Parpola 1997), and so roughly contemporary with important biblical prophetic figures such as Isaiah and Jeremiah. In addition to these, there is scattered evidence of prophecy in different parts of Mesopotamia from the twenty-first to the second century BCE (Nissinen 2003: 181\u201399), as well as a few telling examples of prophecy in the West Semitic milieu, temporally and geographically close to the kingdoms of Israel and Judah (Seow 2003: 202\u201318). All this evidence comprises more than 140 individual texts which make up a literature well comparable in size to the biblical corpus of prophetic books.
\nThe ancient Near Eastern selection of prophetic documents, however, should not be viewed as a kind of extra-biblical prophetic canon. Its composition may vary according to different criteria of defining a text as \u2018prophetic\u2019, and it can quite realistically be expected to grow when new documents are found or previously known texts are recognized as evidence of prophecy. In fact, the Neo-Assyrian oracles, published by Simo Parpola in 1998, began to be seriously considered as prophecy only in the late 1960s, in spite of the fact that some of them were already recognized as such by the end of the nineteenth century. Even the documentation from Mari has been expanded by several important texts since Jean-Marie Durand\u2019s edition of 1988. The newest document mentioning a prophet was recently found in an archive excavated at Ziyaret Tepe (Parpola 2008). All this evidence justifies the statement that we are only beginning to recognize fully something that was suggested long ago by critical scholars but which was difficult to substantiate: that biblical prophecy is but a part\u2014though a distinctive and in many ways unique part\u2014of a larger picture. The next step following this observation is to ask why it is necessary. What do we know now that we did not know before? What kind of changes does this knowledge bring about in our view of biblical prophecy, or prophecy in general?<\/p>\n
1.2. The Perils and Advantages of Comparative Studies<\/p>\n
Comparative studies, with all their perils and advantages, are a natural consequence of asking the aforementioned questions. In most cases this means comparison between the Bible and extra-biblical documents, which is a worthwhile but dangerous enterprise\u2014worthwhile because it serves the purpose of viewing the biblical text in its cultural context, and dangerous because it easily leads to sweeping generalizations or to a goal-directed exploitation of ancient Near Eastern sources to justify Bible-based and sometimes questionable claims. If the prophets from Mesopotamia and Syria are seen primarily as forerunners of the biblical prophets and the ancient Near East as the \u2018context of Scripture\u2019, it is difficult to change the Bible-centred perspective into a more comprehensive view of prophecy as an ancient Near Eastern phenomenon, documented by sources, the general significance of which is not dependent on their applicability to biblical studies.
\nWe should never forget to ask: \u2018Why am I doing this?\u2019, \u2018What do I actually want to know?\u2019 Scholars are often blamed for importing hidden agendas into discussion\u2014both those labelled as \u2018revisionists\u2019 and others with a conspicuous predilection for early datings. Indeed, probably every scholar works under presuppositions that may be difficult to render explicit to the scholarly community, sometimes even to oneself.
\nLet me try to answer these questions for my own part. I am not particularly \u2018in search of pre-exilic Israel\u2019, even though I have learned a lot from a volume with this title that I am happy to quote in this essay (Day [ed.] 2004). I am keenly interested in the history of the kingdoms of Israel and Judah, and I would love to know more about prophecy as practised in those kingdoms. However, I do not think that the pre-exilic period has an intrinsic value, and I do not consider pre-exilic sources more valuable than post-exilic ones. I do not exclude the possibility that some texts of the Hebrew Bible can be best explained against pre-exilic circumstances, but I am also open to readings of prophetic passages from the point of view of post-monarchical concerns. Moreover, I would like to ask what kind of comparisons could be made without precise knowledge of the age and historical context of the texts and how this might enhance our understanding of ancient prophecy.
\nA further challenge to comparative studies is related to the diversity of the ancient Near Eastern sources for prophecy, including the Hebrew Bible. There are many ways of documenting prophecy; hence it must be carefully considered what kind of historical information is obtainable from each source, be it a written oracle, an entry appearing in a word-list, a legal document, a letter reporting a prophetic appearance, a paraphrase of prophetic words in a literary context, or a prophetic book, a genre known only from the Hebrew Bible. It is a major methodological challenge to determine how each individual piece of this multifarious documentation contributes to drawing the larger picture.
\nWhether biblical or extra-biblical, the available set of sources our knowledge is extracted from does not yield a full picture of the prophetic phenomenon at any historical moment. The selection of documents at our disposal, which are virtually always texts, is the result of a huge process, beginning sometimes with the spoken word of a prophet, sometimes with the pen or stylus of a scribe, and ending with a publication, whether a printed version of the Bible or a scholarly edition of an ancient text with an archaeological provenance. This process is random on one hand and systematic on the other. It is random because the discovery of ancient documents is unavoidably a matter of chance. Whether it is the result of sheer coincidence like Qumran or Nag Hammadi, or the result of responsible archaeological work, it is quite certain that not everything has been found so far, and so our picture remains incomplete. The systematic element comes into play with the fact that we are entirely dependent on the scribes who decided which prophecies were considered worth writing down, the archivists and librarians who selected the material they wanted to keep in their collections, and the editors of the biblical books who created the image and ideology of the prophets in the Hebrew Bible. What we see is the outcome of this process, the reconstruction of which is a matter of careful methodological consideration.
\nComparing ancient Near Eastern prophecy with ancient Hebrew prophecy is an especially demanding task. With the exception of two or three letters from Lachish which mention prophets, there is nothing outside the Hebrew Bible that informs us about the prophetic phenomenon in ancient Israel and Judah in the monarchical or even in the Persian period. The Hebrew Bible, again, is a literary composition unparalleled by any ancient Near Eastern document, and, therefore, presents a particular challenge to comparison, especially if it aims at historical reconstruction. Since this requires a fair amount of knowledge of the historical context of the sources, one of the most important tasks in historical comparison is the dating of the sources.<\/p>\n
1.3. The Problem of Dating<\/p>\n
Anyone familiar with the critical study of the Bible knows how arduous a task the dating of the prophetic texts (or any text) of the Hebrew Bible can be, and how many divergent opinions, based on different methodological approaches, have been introduced into the discussion. In practical terms, anyone who wants to compare biblical and extra-biblical prophetic sources must face a question akin to the following: \u2018How can one prove that anything comes from the eighth rather than, say, the fifth century BCE?\u2019 Hugh Williamson has recently discussed this question, admitting that \u2018in the case of texts which are demonstrably more than 2000 years old, nothing can be \u201cproved\u201d \u2019, and suggests some relevant methodical ways of establishing reasonable probabilities (Williamson 2004: 182\u201383). This is certainly true for biblical texts, but it must be added that the extra-biblical material which is even older, can, as will be demonstrated below, often be dated rather precisely. When it comes to the Bible, however, we can no longer choose from two alternatives regarding the authorship of a given verse in the prophetic books\u2014that is, the assumption of the authorship of the prophet to which the book is ascribed until the contrary is proved, or vice versa. The situation is far more complex than that. Every dating, early and late alike, has to be, if not \u2018proved\u2019, then at least corroborated with positive arguments, the more convincing the better.
\nIt goes without saying that one and the same biblical passage can be interpreted against the background of different periods of time. To use the book of Amos as an example of recent scholarship, there is an intriguing reading of it as a late post-exilic book reflecting the concerns of the pious poor, the \u02bfan\u0101w\u00eem, of the third century BCE (Levin 1997). On the other hand, there are also attempts to give an early date even to those passages of the book that are traditionally regarded as later additions, such as the last verses of the book in ch. 9 (Sweeney 2006). Both views are based on sophisticated argumentation, the validity of which is a matter of dispute. The worst we can do is to resort to the kind of circular reasoning which makes the social crisis of the eighth century BCE and the social criticism in the book of Amos dependent on each other. As Walter Houston puts it, \u2018we cannot date any specific text in these books [scil. Isaiah, Amos and Micah] to the eighth century simply on the grounds of its subject matter. But there was a social crisis in the eighth century\u2019 (Houston 2004: 147; emphasis original). It is up to scholarly insight to decide to what extent a given text originally has to do with this or another crisis.
\nIt is most fortunate that many of the ancient Near Eastern prophetic sources can rather easily be located in history. In fact, the two major corpora of prophetic texts, those from Mari and Assyria, can be dated fairly accurately without major problems. Almost all prophetic texts from Mari date from the time of King Zimri-Lim, who reigned a decade and a half from c. 1774 to c. 1760 BCE. Thanks to the efforts of Mari scholars, we are now able to reconstruct the events of this period with greater precision than ever, which often yields an individual prophetic document a more or less certain historical background. A good example of this are the letters of Nur-Sin to Zimri-Lim (FM 7 38 and 39) that are connected with Zimri-Lim\u2019s affairs in Alalakh in the mid-1760s BCE. The extant Assyrian prophecies, again, are all addressed to Kings Esarhaddon (681\u2013669 BCE) and Assurbanipal (668\u2013627 BCE). One of them has a date written in the colophon, and most of them are well understandable against the background of three historical events: the civil war preceding Esarhaddon\u2019s rise to power and his enthronement (681\u2013680 BCE); the appointment of Assurbanipal as the crown prince of Assyria (672 BCE); and the revolt of his brother, \u0160ama\u0161-\u0161umu-ukin (652\u2013648 BCE). Even other prophetic sources sometimes bear exact dates, as is the case with the astronomical diary reporting a prophetic appearance in Babylonia in the month of Tishri, 133 BCE.
\nWhen it comes to the Hebrew Bible, the situation is totally different. This difficulty is due to what the (Hebrew) Bible is: a canonized composition of texts of different age as the result of a centuries-long editorial process. Hard evidence of this process is available to us from a very late period only, and the earliest text-critical evidence shows that by the beginning of the Common Era the text of this composition was still not completely fixed. Since it is presumable that this composition includes a fair amount of text material that is older, the methodological question arises how to identify and date the textual evidence embedded in the late composition that in all likelihood dates from earlier periods. I repeat this common knowledge in order to demonstrate how different the sources are that we have at hand when we start comparing biblical texts with ancient Near Eastern documents.
\nWith regard to source criticism, the main difference between biblical and other ancient Near Eastern documents lies in the process of transmission. The chronological distance between the Near Eastern prophetic documents and their presumable origin in the oral performance of the prophets varies from a few days to a decade, whereas in the case of the biblical prophetic texts as we have them, we have to reckon with centuries. The editorial processes were probably similar in the beginning: there were scribes who wrote down their versions of the prophecies according to their own discretion, and archivists who decided what they wanted to file away in their archives. Moreover, the compilation of collections of oracles probably required taking some documents and leaving the others. All this creates a distance between the spoken and the written word, which cannot be presumed to be identical. The so-called ipsissima verba remain unreachable in both cases.
\nWhat makes the Hebrew Bible different from any other ancient Near Eastern source is the length, the depth and the purpose of the editorial activity that turned prophecy into literature. There is evidence of the beginnings of editorial activity in the Assyrian documents that reinterpret prophetic words to new audiences, transcending specific historical situations. However, the huge scribal prolongation of the prophetic process of communication in post-monarchical Yehud, triggered by the radical socio-religious and political crisis inflicted by the loss of the Temple and kingship and the change in demographic status and worldview, is without parallel in the Near East. Written prophetic documents from the Near East can usually be considered an interpretation of the spoken word of a prophet or of a previously written text. And yet, only in the Hebrew Bible do we have prophetic books which are \u2018by definition reinterpretive documents, whose writers reapply patterns of divine\u2014human interaction discerned in one particular historical context to another later historical context\u2019 in such a way that, \u2018in final analysis the prophetic viewpoint expressed in a prophetic book owes more to the writer than to the original prophet\u2019 (Floyd 2006: 290). The scribal activity producing literary prophecy may not be the \u2018proprium\u2019 of biblical prophecy as such, but the literary process that designed the genre of the prophetic book and gave the concept of prophecy a new meaning\u2014indeed, created the concept of prophecy as we have inherited it, whether as scholars, or as believing Jews, Christians or Muslims\u2014is certainly unparalleled in the ancient Near East, at least to the best of our present knowledge.<\/p>\n
1.4. What Is Being Compared?<\/p>\n
As a consequence of the above reflections, I would like to suggest that, whenever involved in comparative studies in prophecy, we should try to be consistent in comparing sources, not prophets. We cannot claim to be able to compare the prophet Amos of Tekoa with the prophet Bay\u00e2 of Arbela, since it is highly improbable that we have any access to historical personalities called by these names in a few particular texts. What can we do, then? Obviously, we can read the book bearing the name of the prophet Amos and the Assyrian oracle collections that include prophecies allegedly uttered by Bay\u00e2, and make all kinds of observations.
\nLet us take the biographical notes on each prophet as an example. Bay\u00e2 appears as the speaker of two oracles belonging to two different oracle collections, and all information available to us concerning this prophet is written in the standard colophons following the text of the oracle on each tablet. This prophet is said to come from Arbela, which doubtless refers to the prophet\u2019s affiliation with the temple of I\u0161tar in Arbela, the cradle of Neo-Assyrian prophecy. The oracle is said to be delivered \u2018by the mouth\u2019 of the prophet, referring to an oral performance probably written down by someone else. The gender of this prophet is ambiguous because the name is written with a female determinative (M\u00cd), even though the prophet is said to be a \u2018son\u2019 (DUMU) of Arbela. Unless this ambiguity is due to a slip of the scribe, the prophet may belong to those devotees of I\u0161tar who were considered neither men nor women, and represented a \u2018third\u2019 gender as a sign of the power of the goddess over human gender and as mythological reminiscences of the goddess\u2019s journey to the Netherworld. All this information\u2014the oral performance, the religious affiliation and even the ambiguous gender of the prophet\u2014makes perfect sense in view of what is known about the historical background of the sources in the early seventh-century Assyria; the original oracles probably date form the years 680\u2013679.
\nIn the case of Amos, we learn from the first verse of the book (Amos 1:1) that this man, who is said to be one of the sheep-farmers (n\u014dqed\u00eem) of Tekoa, a village in Judah, \u2018saw\u2019 (\u1e25zh) words (this probably implies that he was believed to have received them in visions) concerning Israel during the reigns of Uzziah, king of Judah, and Jeroboam, king of Israel, \u2018two years before the earthquake\u2019. In another context (Amos 7:10\u201317), in accordance with the introductory verse, he is called \u2018seer\u2019 (\u1e25\u014dzeh) by Amaziah, the priest of Bethel, who had written about him to King Jeroboam and now tells him to go back to Judah and prophesy (hinn\u0101b\u0113\u02be) there instead of Bethel, the king\u2019s sanctuary and a royal palace. Amos denies belonging to the prophetic guild: \u2018I am no prophet, nor am I a prophet\u2019s son\u2019, and claims to be \u2018a herdsman and a dresser of sycomore-figs\u2019, who was told by God to prophesy against Israel. The introductory verse (Amos 1:1) seemingly provides the reader with information similar to the colophons of the Assyrian oracles: name, provenance, the type of transmission of divine words and the date (which may originally have belonged to the Assyrian tablets, the ends of which, with the exception of one tablet, are broken away). However, the case of Amos is more problematic since there is a certain discrepancy between the beginning of the book, where Amos is presented as the one who \u2018sees\u2019 divine words, and in Amos 7:14, where he vehemently rejects the designation \u2018seer\u2019 given to him, not only by Amaziah the priest, but implicitly also by the introductory verse of the book. Moreover, unlike the case of Bay\u00e2, the social role of Amos is rather difficult to fathom, at least if we look at it from an ancient Near Eastern point of view: a farmer, presumably without any kind of literary education or affiliation to any religious institution, reciting, if not writing, sophisticated Hebrew poetry and confronting religious authorities outside his homeland. The built-in dissonance in the image of Amos as a non-prophet fulfilling divinatory functions may not surprise us if we look at it from the point of view of the biblical prophetic ideal refined by two centuries of biblical scholarship, according to which Amos, the free spirit and social critic, is the paragon of a true prophet. But Amos does appear as a curiousity when seen from the perspective of our present knowledge of prophetic social roles in the ancient Near East. Moreover, the dissonance between the information given by Amos 1:1 and 7:14 raises questions concerning the unity of the literary product we call the book of Amos.
\nTo be sure, the incongruities within the book of Amos have for a long time been subject to diachronic analyses of the editorial history of the book, attributing much if not all biographical material to the pre- or post-exilic editors of the book: hence the information given by it on the prophet Amos should be understood as part of a strategy by later writers to address their own ideas to their readers. Whether or not this is true in the case of Amos 7:10\u201317 (as I think it is), the case of the book of Amos as a whole serves as an example of the difference between the literary history of the prophetic books of the Bible and the remaining ancient Near Eastern documentation. The sources represent different genres. Comprising a variety of genres of literature\u2014divine words, poetry, narrative sections and so on\u2014as the result of a long editorial process, a prophetic book certainly can and should be used as a historical source, but it cannot be applied to historical reconstruction in the same way as the Assyrian oracle collections, the editorial process of which is considerably shorter. The genre of a prophetic book is only known from the Bible, where its function is to transcend the message of ancient prophets for new audiences, not to conserve the \u2018original\u2019 word of the prophet.
\nThis is not to say that the texts attributed to Amos and Bay\u00e2 cannot be compared with each other at all. \u2018Future shall be like the past\u2019, says the prophet Bay\u00e2 in both oracles attributed to him\/her (SAA 9 1.4 ii 37 and 2.2 i 17\u201318), meaning that there will always be divine support for the rule of King Esarhaddon. This is in apparent contradiction to Amos 5:2: \u2018She has fallen to rise no more, the virgin Israel\u2019, which proclaims the opposite to Israel. We can ask, however, whether both derive from the same Near Eastern prophetic tradition of proclaiming blessing to one\u2019s own king and destruction to the enemy, although in the case of Amos with reversed roles. A similar correspondence can be observed between Bay\u00e2\u2019s word\u2014\u2018Esarhaddon, king of Assyria! I will vanquish yo[ur enemies]\u2019 (SAA 2.2 i 22)\u2014and the prophecy (vaticinium ex eventu) of Amos to King Jeroboam\u2014\u2018Your land shall be divided by a measuringline, and you yourself shall die in an unclean country\u2019 (Amos 7:14). The two oracles seem to be two sides of the same coin, a coin which has the king\u2019s image on it.
\nWhenever two texts are compared, we can make obsevations of the vocabulary, literary form, ideology and theology of the texts, consider them from the point of view of their literary contexts and their editorial history, and examine what they inform us about various aspects of what we call prophecy. It deserves attention that the relationship between Amaziah, Amos and Jeroboam corresponds well with what we know about the relationship between priests, prophets and kings in the ancient Near Eastern documents in general, priests reporting prophetic messages to the king and exercising control over prophetic activity. Quite certainly, we can also attempt a sketching out of the historical background and \u2018geistige Heimat\u2019 of the texts. To take Amos and Bay\u00e2 again as examples, this is considerably easier in the oracle of Bay\u00e2, which can be dated rather firmly; in the case of the book of Amos, we must ponder several alternatives depending on the dating of each part of the book.
\nIn any case, placing the sources side by side for the sake of comparison requires a sense of what is being compared. As stated above, different texts yield different information. In some cases\u2014for instance, in administrative documents\u2014the sources inform us rather directly about prophets, while in others they tell more about the purposes of their writers than the prophetic phenomenon in its own right. Most often\u2014as is the case, for instance, in the letters reporting prophetic performances at Mari and in Assyria\u2014the sources must be read in both ways: the letters certainly give us some indispensable information about prophetic activities in their time, but this information is totally dependent on the point of view of the writers and their audiences.
\nTo be able to make a difference between different levels of the perception of prophecy in the Hebrew Bible, I have introduced the distinction between biblical prophecy, meaning prophecy as it is supposed to be understood by the readers of the biblical texts, and ancient Hebrew prophecy, referring to the historical phenomenon of prophecy in the kingdoms of Israel and Judah and in the Persian province of Yehud. Biblical prophecy we have in front of our eyes; ancient Hebrew prophecy can only be reconstructed from the biblical text with more or less probability with the help of exegetical methods\u2014including the comparative method. For comparative studies this means that the primary counterparts of comparison are extra-biblical documents and the biblical text, that is, ancient Near Eastern prophecy and biblical prophecy. To what extent it is possible to compare ancient Hebrew prophecy with ancient Near Eastern prophecy is another question that involves all the difficulties of historical reconstruction described above.
\nNot everything depends on dating when texts are compared. As the above example from Amos 7:10\u201317 shows, much of the comparison can be done without dating, assuming that both sources present themselves as authentic representatives of ancient Near Eastern literature and prophetic tradition, each in its own way. Dating becomes significant if we wish to establish literary or, at least, cultural dependencies between the documents\u2014for instance, between Neo-Assyrian prophecies and Second Isaiah. Such dependencies, however, are not the absolute prerequisite for drawing the larger picture of ancient Near Eastern prophecy. In most cases, dependencies between source materials from the ancient Near East cannot be demonstrated, but it is nevertheless possible to increase our understanding of prophecy by observing similarities and distinctive features in prophetic sources from different times and places. The result is not a tree-like diagram we may be used to striving for, but rather a pizzalike collage that shows different kinds of family resemblances between source materials which are more or less historically connected. All these sources belong to the Near Eastern cultural sphere, which unites them anyway, but the comparison can be extended to prophecy as a global phenomenon.
\nDespite all the caveats mentioned so far, the comparative study of ancient Near Eastern prophecy should not be regarded as a desperate attempt altogether. We do have at our disposal a sizable, even though uneven, source material that makes comparison possible, especially when supplemented by relevant non-prophetic extra-biblical and biblical sources that help to contextualize the prophetic documents. Hence, comparison between the biblical and extra-biblical sources is a worthwhile and legitimate enterprise if it is undertaken with steady awareness of what is being compared for what purpose. Personally\u2014and I am talking as a biblical scholar\u2014I have more or less eschewed this comparison, primarily because I have felt a need to study each set of sources independently of biblical concerns. Now I will venture to sketch out some commonalities and differences between the biblical and ancient Near Eastern sources, using divination as a test case.<\/p>\n
2. The Test Case: Prophecy as Divination<\/p>\n
2.1. The Role of Divination in the Ancient Near East<\/p>\n
In ancient Near Eastern studies, prophecy (if this word is used) is usually regarded as a sub-type of divination. In other words, prophets are seen as further representatives of the institution, the purpose of which is to make the people, the king in particular, conversant with the divine will in a variety of ways. I fully subscribe to this view, though I would like to emphasize the distinctive characteristics of different divinatory practices: in prophecy, the divine word is allegedly received intuitively, probably in an altered state of mind, and this clearly sets prophecy apart from astrology or extispicy, which are based on observations of physical objects and their scholarly interpretation. This difference is visible also in the social location of diviners of different kinds: at least in the Mesopotamian society, \u2018academics\u2019 such as haruspices, astrologers or exorcists assumed social roles clearly different from prophets, who were not affiliated with literary and scribal education but rather belonged to the context of worship.
\nWhat unites different divinatory practices is their function in guiding the decision-making in society by means of revealing the divine will. This is much more than mere fortune-telling or predicting the future. Prophets, like other diviners, act as instruments of divine encouragement and warning, and they are typically consulted in situations of war and political crises. A telling example of this is the newest available document of prophecy, an outlay of copper found in Ziyaret Tepe (ancient Tu\u0161\u1e2ban) and dating from the year 611 BCE, that is, from the very last days of the Assyrian empire after the fall of Nineveh (Parpola 2008). Just before the battle against the invading Babylonian army, both an augur (d\u0101gil i\u1e63\u1e63ur\u012b) and a prophet (raggimu) have been paid for their services. The substantial amount of six minas of copper given to the prophet is noteworthy regardless of whether he ever survived the fall of the city to be able to enjoy his riches. Furthermore, the use of two distinctive methods of divination deserves attention: the city in distress needed every divine instruction they could get.
\nEven though the king was not the only employer of diviners and prophets, the societal function of divination is fundamentally associated with the institution of kingship. The position of the ancient Near Eastern king as the link between the divine and human worlds also made him the prime recipient of prophetic and other oracles. Divination was the medium through which the king was kept informed of the divine favours and obligations and the origin and legitimacy of his rule; this is what Beate Pongratz-Leisten calls Herrschaftswissen in her important monograph Herrschaftswissen im alten Mesopotamien (Pongratz-Leisten 1999). It is especially through prophets that the \u2018the secrets of the gods\u2019, that is, the decisions of the heavenly council usually proclaimed by the goddess I\u0161tar, were revealed to the king. Hence the prophets function as intermediaries and channels of communication for the divine knowledge necessary for the king and country to live in safety and receive divine advice in times of crisis and uncertainty.<\/p>\n
2.2. Divination and Prophecy in the Hebrew Bible<\/p>\n
Much of this is easily observable in the Hebrew Bible, where prophets appear as proclaming the word of Yahweh to kings and authorities, often in political or religious crises; if not more, this shows that the authors and editors of the prophetic and historical books of the Hebrew Bible were well aware of the function of prophecy as Herrschaftswissen. A telling example of this is the decisive role of the prophetess Huldah in introducing the s\u0113per hatt\u00f4r\u00e2 as the constitution of the religious reform of King Josiah, as reported by the Deuteronomists in 2 Kgs 22:14\u201320. Moreover, prophets such as Isaiah and Jeremiah, as well as several prophets mentioned in the Deuteronomistic History, not to forget Chronicles, are repeatedly brought to a direct contact with the kings\u2014more than is observable in any prophetic document from Mesopotamia. Whether we have to do with a late reconstruction or description of actual events, all this points to the conclusion that (1) prophecy as an institution had a significant divinatory function in the politics of the Judaean kings when the kingdom still existed, and (2) this function of prophecy was remembered long after the collapse of the institution of kingship in Jerusalem.
\nWhen it comes to prophecy in relation to other forms of divination, the Hebrew Bible takes a different stance. That prophecy is understood as a sort of divination is acknowledged, for example, in 1 Samuel 28, where Saul tries to inquire of God by means of dreams, Urim and prophets (v. 6), and finally resorts to a necromancer. The existence of astrologers, necromancers and other people bearing somewhat unclear designations, including q\u014ds\u0113m, me\u02bf\u00f4n\u0113n, mena\u1e25\u0113\u0161, meka\u0161\u0161\u0113p, yidde\u02bf\u00f4n\u00ee, and so on, is also acknowledged, but their activities are either condemned or ridiculed. While prophecy is not presented in the Hebrew Bible as the only legitimate way of receiving knowledge of the divine will (dreams, for instance, are not rejected as such, and the Urim and Thummim belong to the priestly equipment without criticism of their use), the prophet clearly enjoys an elevated position. This is obviously the reason for the sharp distinction between prophecy and divination with the respective positive and negative value judgments in modern scholarship until recent days. Since the nineteenth century, scholars have appreciated the prophets as champions of \u2018ethical monotheism\u2019 (which is primarily a modern rather than biblical construction), while divination has been the paragon of a less-developed, irrational superstition. In the context of the Hebrew Bible, however, the distinction is not motivated by a universal ethical rule, but a particular, authoritative set of instructions, the Torah, governed by a particular idea of the relationship of God and his people mediated by Moses, the paragon of a prophet (Deut. 18:15\u201322). This is not to say that every prophetic text in the Hebrew Bible originally reflects this idea, but this is certainly how the \u2018Prophets\u2019 as a part of the composition (or \u2018canon\u2019, if we prefer) of the Hebrew Bible wishes to be read.<\/p>\n
2.3. Literary Prophecy as Scribal Divination<\/p>\n
With regard to prophecy and divination, it is interesting to observe what happened to prophecy when the kingdom of Judah collapsed and the people had to manage the consequences of this crisis\u2014first, the so-called exilic period or the \u2018Templeless age\u2019 when the ruling class was deported to Babylonia; and then, after a few decades, the attempts at building a new Temple and establishing a new community of worshippers of Yahweh. There was a fundamental change in the concept, practice and social context of prophecy during this long and troublesome period, extending from the first occupation of Jerusalem in 598 BCE well into the time of Nehemiah in mid-fifth century BCE. We may observe two parallel developments presupposing each other: on the one hand, the decline and marginalization (but not disappearance) of the traditional type of prophecy as oral delivery of divine messages; and on the other hand, the rise of the literary interpretation of written prophecies which becomes the preferred and authoritative sort of divination in the Second Temple community.
\nOne of the consequences of the destruction of the monarchy and social institutions in the early sixth century BCE was that prophecy became divorced from its socio-religious context as a royal institution, thereby losing its traditional function and setting. Prophecy did not disappear in the post-monarchical period; such figures as Haggai and Zechariah bear witness to the contrary, and enough traces of prophetic activity can be extracted from the text of the Hebrew Bible to demonstrate that prophecy of the traditional type never died away completely, even though it seems to have been driven into the margins of society. However, there was an alternative kind of prophetic practice, and this was assumed by the scribal circles who were responsible for transmitting the holy tradition in general and the prophetic tradition in particular. The management of the divination as Herrschaftswissen was now essentially a scribal enterprise. The scribes, in the words of Michael Floyd, \u2018kept records of prophetic activity, cultivating among themselves forms of prophecy that were expressed in writing and selectively recording forms of prophecy that were not\u2019 (Floyd 2006: 285). It should be noted that this was probably the role of the scribes even before the post-monarchical period. However, the way the scribes developed \u2018the theory and practice of prophetic divination as conducted with reference to the current worldview\u2019 (ibid.) was now different because of the changes in the worldview. To use a distinction introduced recently by Armin Lange, written prophecy, meaning written records of orally delivered prophetic messages, was largely, if not entirely, replaced by literary prophecy, that is, literature that reinterprets earlier written records of prophecy, transcending the original proclamation situations and recontextualizing them in other contexts (Lange 2006: 249\u201350).
\nThe authoritative concept of prophecy, separated from other forms of divination and elevated above them, was in the post-monarchical period inspired by the figures of the past and introduced by the scribes who took care of the intermediation of the prophetic tradition, producing prophetic books by relying on earlier written records and reinterpreting them, thereby assuming the personae of the past prophets. As Joachim Schaper has noticed with reference to Ezekiel, the textualization and \u2018sacerdotalization\u2019 of prophecy ultimately led to the \u2018death of the prophet\u2019 as the intermediary of divine knowledge. \u2018In Ezek 1:28b\u00df\u20133:15, writing is no longer the documentary medium of prophetic discourse but its material prerequisite\u2019 (Schaper 2006: 79; emphases original).
\nIt was only the formation and subsequent authorization of prophetic literature that led to a full appreciation of literary prophecy, that is, the prophetic books, as prophecy par excellence. This, again, highlighted the importance of the interpretation of the prophetic books in a way that gave the scholars and teachers of wisdom as authorized interpreters of the prophetic word a quasi-prophetic role. This can be seen very clearly, for instance, in Ben Sira (cf. Sir. 24:33; 39:6) and in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Interestingly, prophetic and scholarly roles merge together in a way that leads to a reconceptualization of prophecy.
\nReturning, in conclusion, to the comparative view, it is easy to note that none of the ancient Near Eastern documents reflects a development comparable to the one described above that took place in Yehud. This by no means prevents the comparison between the sources\u2014it only requires alertness to the critical points of the comparative analysis. The conceptual distinctions that have been made above might be helpful in acknowledging the nature of the sources being compared: that of biblical prophecy and ancient Hebrew prophecy on the one hand, and that of written prophecy and literary prophecy on the other. To use the example of Bay\u00e2 and Amos again, the oracles of Bay\u00e2 are an illustrative specimen of written prophecy, whereas the book of Amos, as a prophetic book, clearly belongs to the category of literary prophecy.
\nThe institution of divination offers itself as a particularly rewarding test case, because it highlights an aspect of Near Eastern prophecy that appears to be significant in the biblical texts regardless of their dating, demonstrating the function of prophecy as Herrschaftswissen in early and late texts alike. Moreover, the comparative view also helps us to see where Second Temple Judaism takes a course of its own with regard to the concept and practice of prophecy.<\/p>\n
Bibliography<\/p>\n
Barstad, H. M.
\n2000 \u2018Comparare necesse est? Ancient Israelite and Ancient Near Eastern Prophecy in a Comparative Perspective\u2019, in Nissinen (ed.) 2000: 3\u201311.
\n2002 \u2018Prophecy in the Book of Jeremiah and the Historical Prophet\u2019, in A. G. Hunter and P. R. Davies (ed.), Sense and Sensitivity: Essays on Reading the Bible in Memory of Robert Carroll (JSOTSup, 348; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press): 87\u2013100.
\nBeentjes, P. C.
\n2006 \u2018Prophets and Prophecy in the Book of Ben Sira\u2019, in Floyd and Haak (eds.) 2006: 135\u201350.
\nBen-Dov, J.
\n2008 \u2018Writing as Oracle and as Law: New Contexts for the Book-Find of King Josiah\u2019, JBL 127: 223\u201339.
\nBen Zvi, E.
\n2003 \u2018The Prophetic Book: A Key Form of Prophetic Literature\u201d, in E. Ben Zvi and M. A. Sweeney (eds.), The Changing Face of Form Criticism for the Twenty-First Century (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans): 276\u201397.
\nBlenkinsopp, J.
\n1995 Sage, Priest, Prophet: Religious and Intellectual Leadership in Ancient Israel (Library of Ancient Israel; Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox).
\nBorger, R.
\n1996 Beitr\u00e4ge zum Inschriftenwerk Assurbanipals: Die Prismenklassen A, B, C = K, D, E, F, G, H, J, und T sowie andere Inschriften (Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz).
\nBrooke, G. J.
\n2006 \u2018Prophecy and Prophets in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Looking Backwards and Forwards\u2019, in Floyd and Haak (eds.) 2006: 151\u201365.
\nCancik-Kirschbaum, E.
\n2003 \u2018Prophetismus und Divination: Ein Blick auf die keilschriftlichen Quellen\u2019, in K\u00f6ckert and Nissinen (ed.) 2003: 33\u201353.
\nCharpin, D.
\n2002 \u2018Proph\u00e8tes et rois dans le Proche-Orient amorrite: Nouvelles donn\u00e9es, nouvelles perspectives\u2019, in D. Charpin and J.-M. Durand (eds.), Recueil d\u2019\u00e9tudes \u00e0 la m\u00e9moire d\u2019Andr\u00e9 Parrot (Florilegium marianum, 6; M\u00e9moires de NABU, 7; Paris: SEPOA): 7\u201338.
\n2004 \u2018Histoire politique du Proche-Orient amorrite (2002\u20131595)\u2019, in D. Charpin, D. O. Edzard and M. Stol, Mesopotamien: Die altbabylonische Zeit (OBO, 160\/4; Fribourg: Academic Press; G\u00f6ttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht): 25\u2013480.
\nCharpin, D., F. Joann\u00e8s, S. Lackenbacher and B. Lafont
\n1988 Archives \u00e9pistolaires de Mari I.2 (ARM 26\/2; Paris: Editions Recherche sur les Civilisations).
\nCivil, M. et al.
\n1969 The Series l\u00fa = \u0161a and Related Texts (MSL 12; Rome: Pontificium Institutum Biblicum).
\nCouey, J. B.
\n2008 \u2018Amos vii 10\u201317 and Royal Attitudes toward Prophecy in the Ancient Near East\u2019, VT 53: 300\u2013314.
\nDay, J. (ed.)
\n2004 In Search of Pre-Exilic Israel (JSOTSup, 406; London: T&T Clark International).
\nDurand, J.-M.
\n1988 Archives \u00e9pistolaires de Mari I.1 (ARM, 26\/1; Paris: Editions Recherche sur les Civilisations).
\n2002 Le Culte d\u2019Addu d\u2019Alep et l\u2019affaire d\u2019Alahtum (Florilegium Marianum, 7; M\u00e9moires de NABU, 8; Paris: SEPOA).
\nFloyd, M. H.
\n2006 \u2018The Production of Prophetic Books in the Early Second Temple Period\u2019, in Floyd and Haak (eds.) 2006: 276\u201397.
\nFloyd, M. H., and R. D. Haak (eds.)
\n2006 Prophets, Prophecy, and Prophetic Texts in Second Temple Judaism (LHBOTS, 427; New York: T&T Clark International).
\nGrabbe, L. L.
\n2003 \u2018Poets, Scribes or Preachers? The Reality of Prophecy in the Second Temple Period\u2019, in L. L. Grabbe and R. D. Haak (eds.), Knowing the End from the Beginning: The Prophetic, the Apocalyptic and their Relationships (JSPSup, 46; London: T&T Clark International): 192\u2013215.
\nHouston, W.
\n2004 \u2018Was there a Social Crisis in the Eighth Century?\u2019, in Day (ed.) 2004: 130\u201349.
\nHuffmon, H. B.
\n1997 \u2018The Expansion of Prophecy in the Mari Archives: New Texts, New Readings, New Information\u2019, in Y. Gitay (ed.), Prophecy and Prophets: The Diversity of Contemporary Issues in Scholarship (SBL Semeia Studies; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature): 7\u201322.
\nJassen, A.
\n2008 \u2018The Presentation of Ancient Prophets as Lawgivers at Qumran\u2019, JBL 127: 307\u201337.
\nJeremias, J.
\n1994 \u2018Das Proprium der alttestamentlichen Prophetie\u2019, ThLZ 119: 483\u201394.
\nKitz, A. M.
\n2003 \u2018Prophecy as Divination\u2019, CBQ 65: 122\u201324.
\nK\u00f6ckert, M., and M. Nissinen (ed.)
\n2003 Propheten in Mari, Assyrien und Israel (FRLANT, 201; G\u00f6ttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht).
\nKratz, R. G.
\n2003 \u2018Das Neue in der Prophetie des Alten Testaments\u2019, in I. Fischer, K. Schmid and H. G. M. Williamson (eds.), Prophetie in Israel: Beitr\u00e4ge des Symposiums \u2018Das Alte Testament und die Kultur der Moderne\u2019 anl\u00e4\u00dflich des 100. Gebutstags Gerhard von Rads (1901\u20131971) Heidelberg, 18.\u201321. Oktober 2001 (Altes Testament und Moderne, 11; M\u00fcnster: LIT): 1\u201322.
\nLange, A.
\n2006 \u2018Literary Prophecy and Oracle Collection: A Comparison between Judah and Greece in Persian Times\u2019, in Floyd and Haak (eds.) 2006: 248\u201375.
\nLemaire, A. (ed.)
\n2001 Proph\u00e8tes et rois: Bible et Proche-Orient (Lectio divina, hors s\u00e9rie; Paris: Cerf).
\nLevin, C.
\n1997 \u2018Das Amosbuch der Anawim\u2019, ZTK 94: 407\u201336.
\n2004 \u2018Das Wort Jahwes an Jeremia: Zur \u00e4ltesten Redaktion der jeremianischen Sammlung\u2019, ZTK 101: 257\u201380.
\nLoretz, O.
\n1992 \u2018Die Entstehung des Amosbuches im Licht der Prophetien aus Mari, Assur, Ishchali und der Ugarit-Texte: Paradigmenwechsel in der Prophetenforschung\u2019, UF 24: 179\u2013215.
\nMiddlemas, J.
\n2007 The Templeless Age: An Introduction to the History, Literature, and Theology of the \u2018Exile\u2019 (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox).
\nNiesio\u0142owski-Span\u00f2, L.
\n2002 \u2018Biblical Prophet Amos: A Simple, Poor Shepherd from Judah?\u2019 in T. Derda, J. Urbanik and M. We?cowski (eds.), \u0395\u1f50\u03b5\u03c1\u03b3\u03b5\u03c3\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c7\u03ac\u03c1\u03b9\u03bd: Studies Presented to Benedetto Bravo and Ewa Wipszycka by their Disciples (The Journal of Juristic Papyrology, Supplement, 1; Warsaw: Sumptibus auctorum): 211\u201317.
\nNissinen, Martti
\n1998 References to Prophecy in Neo-Assyrian Sources (SAAS, 7; Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project).
\n2000 \u2018The Socioreligious Role of the Neo-Assyrian Prophets\u2019, in Nissinen (ed.) 2000: 89\u2013114.
\n2001 \u2018City as Lofty as Heaven: Arbela and Other Cities in Neo-Assyrian Prophecy\u2019, in L. L. Grabbe and R. D. Haak (eds.) \u2018Every City Shall Be Forsaken\u2019: Urbanism and Prophecy in Ancient Israel and the Near East (JSOTSup, 330; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press): 172\u2013209.
\n2002 \u2018A Prophetic Riot in Seleucid Babylonia\u2019, in H. Irsigler (ed.), \u2018Wer darf hinaufsteigen zum Berg JHWH\u2019s: Beitr\u00e4ge zu Prophetie und Poesie des Alten Testaments. Festschrift f\u00fcr Sigur\u00f0ur \u00d6rn Steingr\u00edmmson zum 70. Geburtstag (ATSAT, 72; St Ottilien: EOS): 63\u201374.
\n2003 Prophets and Prophecy in the Ancient Near East (with contributions by C. L. Seow and R. K. Ritner; SBLWAW, 12; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature).
\n2004 \u2018What Is Prophecy? An Ancient Near Eastern Perspective\u2019, in J. Kaltner and L. Stulman (eds.), Inspired Speech: Prophecy in the Ancient Near East, Essays in Honor of Herbert B. Huffmon (JSOTSup, 378; London: T&T Clark International): 17\u201337.
\n2005 \u2018How Prophecy Became Literature\u2019, SJOT 19: 153\u201372.
\n2006 \u2018The Dubious Image of Prophecy\u2019, in Floyd and Haak (eds.) 2006: 26\u201341.
\n2008 \u2018Transmitting Divine Mysteries: The Prophetic Role of Wisdom Teachers in the Dead Sea Scrolls\u2019, in A. Voitila and J. Jokiranta (eds.), Scripture in Transition: Essays on Septuagint, Hebrew Bible, and Dead Sea Scrolls in Honour of Raija Sollamo (JSJSup, 126; Leiden: Brill): 513\u201333.
\n2010 \u2018Biblical Prophecy from a Near Eastern Perspective: The Cases of Kingship and Divine Possession\u2019, in A. Lemaire (ed.), Congress Volume, Ljubljana 2007 (VTSup, 133; Leiden: Brill): 441\u201368.
\nNissinen, M. (ed.)
\n2000 Prophecy in Its Ancient Near Eastern Context: Mesopotamian, Biblical, and Arabian Perspectives (SBL Symposium Series, 13; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature).
\nParpola, S.
\n1993 Letters from Assyrian and Babylonian Scholars (SAA, 10; Helsinki: Helsinki University Press).
\n1997 Assyrian Prophecies (SAA, 9; Helsinki: Helsinki University Press).
\n2008 \u2018Cuneiform Texts from Ziyaret Tepe (Tu\u0161h?an) 2002\u20132003\u2019, SAAB 17: 1\u2013113.
\nPongratz-Leisten, B.
\n1999 Herrschaftswissen in Mesopotamien: Formen der Kommunikation zwischen Gott und K\u00f6nig im 2. und 1. Jahrtausend v. Chr. (SAAS 10; Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project).
\n2003 \u2018When the Gods Are Speaking: Toward Defining the Interface between Polytheism and Monotheism\u2019, in K\u00f6ckert and Nissinen (ed.) 2003: 132\u201368.
\nRoberts, J. J. M.
\n2002 The Bible and the Ancient Near East (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns).
\nRooke, D. W.
\n2006 \u2018Prophecy\u2019, in J. W. Rogerson and J. M. Lieu (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Biblical Studies (Oxford: Oxford University Press): 385\u201396.
\nSachs, A. J., and H. Hunger
\n1996 Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia. III. Diaries from 164 B. C. to 61 B. C. (\u00d6sterreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Philosophisch-historische Klasse, Denkschriften, 247. Vienna: \u00d6sterreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften).
\nSchaper, J.
\n2006 \u2018The Death of the Prophet: The Transition from the Spoken to the Written Word of God in the Book of Ezekiel\u2019, in Floyd and Haak (eds.) 2006: 63\u201379.
\nSchmidt, L.
\n2007 \u2018Die Amazja-Erz\u00e4hlung (Am 7, 10\u201317) und der historische Amos\u2019, ZAW 119: 221\u201335.
\nSeow, C.-L.
\n2003 \u2018West Semitic Sources\u2019, in Nissinen (ed.) 2003: 201\u201318.
\nSweeney, M. A.
\n2006 \u2018The Dystopianization of Utopian Prophetic Literature: The Case of Amos 9:11\u201315\u2019, in E. Ben Zvi (ed.), Utopia and Dystopia in Prophetic Literature (Publications of the Finnish Exegetical Society, 92; Helsinki: Finnish Exegetical Society): 175\u201385.
\nToorn, K. van der
\n2000 \u2018From the Oral to the Written: The Case of the Old Babylonian Prophecy\u2019, in E. Ben Zvi and M. H. Floyd (eds.), Writings and Speech in Israelite and Ancient Near Eastern Prophecy (SBL Symposium Series, 10; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature): 219\u201334.
\n2007 Scribal Culture and the Making of the Hebrew Bible (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press).
\nWerlitz, J.
\n2000 \u2018Amos und sein Biograph: Zur Entstehung und Intention der Prophetenerz\u00e4hlung Am 7, 10\u201317\u2019, BZ NF 44: 233\u201351.
\nWeippert, M.
\n2001 \u2018 \u201cIch bin Jahwe\u201d\u2014\u201cIch bin I\u0161tar von Arbela\u201d. Deuterojesaja im Lichte der neuassyrischen Prophetie\u2019, in B. Huwyler, H.-P. Mathys and B. Weber (eds.), Prophetie und Psalmen: Festschrift f\u00fcr Klaus Seybold (AOAT, 280; M\u00fcnster: Ugarit-Verlag): 31\u201359.
\n2002 \u2018 \u201cK\u00f6nig, f\u00fcrchte dich nicht!\u201d Assyrische Prophetie im 7. Jahrhundert v. Chr.\u2019, Or 71: 1\u201354.
\nWilliamson, H. G. M.
\n1995 \u2018The Prophet and the Plumb-Line: A Redaction-Critical Study of Amos 7\u2019, in R. P. Gordon (ed.), The Place Is Too Small for Us: The Israelite Prophets in Recent Scholarship (Sources for Biblical and Theological Study, 5; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns): 453\u201377.
\n2004 \u2018In Search of the Pre-Exilic Isaiah\u2019, in Day (ed.) 2004: 181\u2013206.<\/p>\n
PREDICTIVE AND PROPHETIC LITERATURE: CAN NEFERTI HELP US READ THE BIBLE?<\/p>\n
Stuart Weeks<\/p>\n
There can be no real doubt that prophecy was practised in Iron Age Palestine, and comparison with other ancient cultures in the region would probably lead us to presume its existence there, even without the many biblical attestations and the more limited inscriptional evidence. That at least some of the individuals named as prophets in biblical literature actually existed and prophesied is less certain, but is not inherently improbable\u2014even if the amount we can say about any one of them is difficult to determine. Matters are more complicated, however, when it comes to the biblical literature most directly associated with prophecy. Almost from the inception of modern critical scholarship, perceived inconsistencies of style or message, references to different periods, and evidence of redactional activity have all contributed to a general understanding that the prophetic books, or many of them at least, are the product of processes much more complicated than the simple dictation or recording of original speeches. In recent decades, moreover, there has been a recognition that there may be more to this than the simple insertion of later oracles, and that the presentation of prophetic figures in these works may itself be implicated in those processes.
\nThe prophetic literature, then, stands at some remove from actual prophecy, and few, if any, of the prophetic books can be regarded as simple documentary records of prophetic speech, at least in their current form. The same is not true of all the non-Israelite texts linked to prophecy, many of which are archived accounts of prophetic messages, and comparison with those accounts further underlines the need to draw a distinction between prophetic speech and prophetic literature. For a start, those foreign oracles which have been preserved are rarely more than a few lines long, and, if their language is sometimes colourful, they hardly aspire to the sophisticated poetry which characterizes much of the Hebrew literature. In this respect, they resemble most of the oracles described in biblical literature outside the prophetic corpus, and that fact might tend to tell against this being a simple matter of variation between local styles and habits. Not all the differences, moreover, are simply a matter of degree. The foreign prophecies, for instance, have no interest in the person of any given intermediary, beyond establishing their bona fides. Equally, although there are examples of Neo-Assyrian oracles being collected together, there are no apparent instances of oracles being delivered in series. Correspondingly, there is no equivalent either, say, to the opening chapters of Hosea, with their focus on the life of the prophet, or to the first two chapters of Amos, with their sequence of oracles in which order and juxtaposition convey the message. Whatever the extent to which individual Hebrew prophetic books may contain or imitate actual prophetic oracles, the actual oracles preserved from elsewhere tend only to emphasize how much more is going on in many of those books.
\nAny attempt to define the differences more precisely has to confront the problem that biblical prophetic literature lacks homogeneity in many key respects. Even if we exclude Jonah, it is difficult to formulate an adequate description for all the prophetic books except in terms of their self-presentation as products of prophecy. Accordingly, despite some recent efforts by Ben Zvi to contrive a more structural definition, it seems unlikely that the creators of these works felt themselves to be under any strong generic constraint in terms of overall form. As a corollary of their self-presentation, however, the prophetic books do generally revolve around direct speech, often accompanied by a greater or lesser narrative component, which establishes the context for the speech. It is this element of explicit or implicit narration which furnishes a basis for the wider involvement of the prophet as a character in many of the books, and while some of the literature barely exploits that possibility at all, the prophetic speech in every book is attributed to a named, individual prophet. Although some of the texts, as we have them, are certainly the work of many hands, none presents itself as a collaborative effort, or collection of speeches from different sources.
\nIt is hard to speak of a prophetic style, especially when the style varies so greatly even within some of the books, and our ability to judge such matters is limited. Much of the literature, however, would appear to have been composed in an elevated register, with a widespread use of figurative language and unusual vocabulary, even where the presentation is not formally poetic. Without going so far as to claim, on those grounds alone, that the books must necessarily be \u2018literary\u2019 compositions, in the sense of \u2018high literature\u2019, we can at least say that their style would not generally exclude such a description. This sits comfortably with other aspects of their presentation, since many of the literary compositions known from the ancient Near East, including some of those preserved in the Bible, make similar use of direct speech as a compositional device, with or without an explicit narrative setting. This is true of some of the earliest literature from Egypt and Mesopotamia, but it is also a feature of much later works, and is familiar within biblical studies as a typical component of apocalyptic and other literature. There are reasonably good grounds, then, for speaking of the prophetic books as \u2018literature\u2019, without prejudice to the question of how their contents originated: their language and general format conform to long-established traditions of literary composition.
\nWhen biblical scholars speak of reading prophecy as literature, however, they are usually bracing their audience either for a synchronic reading or for a study of poetics. It is widely supposed (or, more often, presupposed) that the conventional features of prophetic literature derive not from broader literary conventions, but essentially from the practice of prophecy. On such an understanding, there is nothing problematic about the presentation as speech, or the attribution to the prophet who made the speech; if the poetic style is harder to explain, it can at least be connected with the rhetorical purposes of the prophecy, or with a need to make it easily memorized. As a consequence, the relevance of other materials to the study of prophetic literature has tended to be assessed in terms of their own connection to prophetic activity. While the Mari letters have generated hundreds of articles, and the Neo-Assyrian texts from Nineveh promise to do the same, a number of other Mesopotamian and Egyptian works have almost entirely disappeared from discussion of the prophetic literature, on the grounds that they are \u2018literary\u2019 and not \u2018real\u2019 prophecy.
\nThe rejection of such texts is misguided, not least because a distinction has to be drawn between prophecy and prophetic books, however we account for the relationship between them. It is by no means inconceivable that some or all of the Hebrew prophetic books draw on oracles which were originally spoken, or maybe written, by actual, historical prophets, and that they are to some degree, therefore, compilations of prophetic speech. There are, to be sure, some serious questions to be asked about the means by which such oracles were preserved, and also about the motives which might have driven such preservation: most of the explanations traditionally offered are speculative and rather unsatisfying. The fact that they may contain records of prophecy, however, does not make those books prophecy themselves. When Amos tells Amaziah what Yahweh has declared about the future of his family and of his country (Amos 7:16\u201317), that is clearly prophecy. When the story of him doing so is transmitted in a book across subsequent centuries, however, something different is going on: Amaziah has already been told, so the message no longer needs delivery; even by the time the book of Amos was composed, moreover, Amaziah may have been dead, and the prophecy fulfilled. The delivery of a prophetic message is a transient action related to an immediate situation or forthcoming event\u2014the preservation of a prophetic message in a book is not. If only for that reason, it is important to make a distinction between prophecy and the prophetic literature which claims to report prophecy, and not to assume that one is wholly explicable in terms of the other.
\nThere are, however, other good reasons to disengage the texts from the phenomenon, and to pay more attention to their literary character. In the first place, a great deal of the material in some of the books is not oracular at all, and so can hardly be explained in terms of the preservation of oracles. To retain a connection with prophetic activity, commentators have resorted to such notions as the prophetic memoir\u2014a type of text which is convenient, but which is attested nowhere else and presents many problems. The many different types of material, indeed, and the explanations proposed for each, can rapidly lead us into a world of strange texts or memorized snippets without any parallel, and with no reason for their existence beyond the need to sustain certain suppositions. It is important to note, in this respect, that the Neo-Assyrian evidence for the literary collection and transmission of prophetic oracles, although it is admittedly confined to a very limited period and directed to a very specific end, shows no sign of this complexity, and bears little resemblance to the biblical literature.
\nWe should also note that some of the materials in the prophetic books, although presented as historical words or actions, depend essentially on publication of some sort. Whether or not Jeremiah (13:1\u201311) actually travelled to the Euphrates twice to bury and disinter his dirty underwear, for example, it seems unlikely that many of the audience he wished to reach came with him: his actions are presented as illustrative, not effective, and achieve nothing without publication of the accompanying oracle. As Philip Davies (1996: 57\u201358) puts it succinctly, \u2018it is the report that carries the message\u2019. Even in the case of oracles which lack anecdotes, moreover, we may be dealing often with materials that were never intended to be heard by their supposed recipients, and which would have been, without broader publication, little more than shouts in the wind: it seems unlikely, for instance, that the Prince of Tyre ever heard Ezekiel\u2019s prophecy against him, or that the cows came down from Bashan to hear Amos; if Micah really called on all the peoples and all the earth to listen, his message can hardly have reached more than a fraction of its purported audience. The portrayal of the prophet in such cases moves away from the classic idea of a messenger or mediator, and comes closer to the idea of a character, on a stage or in a book, whose words require not a recipient but an audience.
\nSuch considerations suggest, at least, that we need to look beyond the practice of prophecy if we are going to understand important features of the prophetic books: to whatever extent they are \u2018prophetic\u2019, they are also, more immediately \u2018books\u2019. We should not, therefore, exclude other texts from consideration as analogies simply because they are not themselves documentary records of oracular speech. Indeed, to the extent that some literary conventions may have influenced the composition of many different types of literature, there are potentially useful comparisons to be made with a wide range of texts. Since, however, we have to work largely from analogy, rather than on the basis of established links or a full understanding of literary influences, it makes sense to focus on those texts which most directly resemble prophetic literature. Under this heading we might include a certain amount of apocalyptic literature, as well as the Akkadian predictive texts, of which the best known, perhaps, is the prophecy attributed to \u0160ulgi. I want to focus in the first instance, however, on some similar Egyptian works, and in particular, as my title suggests, on the Sayings of Neferti.
\nNeferti has itself often been labelled as a \u2018prophetic\u2019 text, usually now just because it revolves around a predictive speech, rather than because it is taken to reflect some historical practice of prophecy in Egypt. Egyptologists also sometimes put it in the category of wisdom literature, a fact which is less significant than it sounds, since the designation carries less baggage (and is used even more promiscuously) in that discipline than in biblical studies. Formally, like most early Egyptian literature, it consists of a speech set within a narrative context, and it is probably best simply to think of it in those terms for the time being. The narrative context is the court of King Snefru of the Fourth Dynasty, so the story is set during the first half of the twenty-sixth century BCE. After his council has completed its daily meeting with the king and is leaving, Snefru recalls them, and asks them to find someone clever who can provide him with an entertaining speech. They nominate a chief lector priest called Neferti, who is brought into the royal presence, and asked to speak some fine words for the king. When he asks whether the king wants to hear about the past or future, Snefru chooses the future, and Neferti proceeds to paint a picture of Egypt fallen into a terrible decline, which the king himself records as Neferti speaks.
\nUnder attack from foreigners, with its government displaced, the country is destroyed, and in need of re-creation. The sun is obscured, and the Sun-god cut off, the winds locked in an impasse, the river and fishpools dried out. In the meantime, Asiatics stroll comfortably into all strongholds, while social protections and constraints have broken down, with every man struggling for himself, wealth going to those who have not earned it, and social roles reversed. Into this situation comes a king from the south, named Ameny (the \u2018hidden one\u2019), who restores order, and re-establishes protection for the land, building a fortress called \u2018The Walls of the Ruler\u2019. The poem, and the work, conclude with Neferti\u2019s forecast that posterity will offer him libations when they see the accuracy of his predictions. And well they might, indeed: if things were not quite as bad as all that before the rise of the Twelfth Dynasty, he does, with fair accuracy, foresee the coming of that dynasty\u2019s founder, Amenemhet I, who built \u2018The Walls of the Ruler\u2019. We might even describe the prediction as uncanny, were it not that this whole work was written no earlier than Amenemhet\u2019s reign, in the late twentieth century BCE, and merely set back in the distant past. Like much literature from the early Middle Kingdom, it is, in part at least, intended to promote the interests of the ruling dynasty.
\nIt would be a mistake, however, to limit the meaning and significance of Neferti to the particular historical context in which it was composed. This work, after all, was copied for hundreds of years afterwards, and Neferti\u2019s name features in a New Kingdom list of famous writers on Papyrus Chester Beatty IV (which comments, among other things, on the accuracy of predictions). It became, essentially, a classic of Egyptian literature, and it reflects not only important Egyptian ideas, but also certain compositional and thematic conventions familiar from other texts. Apart from its general similarity to the many Egyptian texts which present their ideas through the vehicle of direct speech, which have a strong interest in social order, or which set their content back in the Old Kingdom, Neferti can usefully be compared directly to several other Middle Kingdom compositions.
\nThe best known of these, perhaps, is the slightly later series of tales preserved on Papyrus Westcar, which similarly employs the entertainment of a bored king as a narrative framework. This time the king is Snefru\u2019s successor, Khufu (Cheops), but the initial stories are recounted as having happened in the time of his ancestors. Later on, a more complicated narrative involves Khufu himself, with an account of the predicted coming and subsequent birth of the kings who are to form the next dynasty. Where these stories offer a framework reminiscent of that in Neferti, and also a predictive element, two other texts apparently employ a different setting, but have a similar interest in portraying the collapse of social order. In one of these, attributed to Ipuwer, the initial description of the setting has been lost, nevertheless the work seems to present a dialogue between a certain Ipuwer and the king, in which the current state of chaos is acknowledged by both, but the responsibility debated. The other work describes itself as a collection of sayings by one Khakheperreseneb, but it takes the form of a connected monologue, addressed to his own heart and lamenting the state of the land.
\nTo the extent that Neferti can usefully be described as a prophetic text at all, it clearly does not belong to some exclusive genre of prophetic texts. On the contrary, it illustrates rather well the extent to which aspects of subject-matter and formal presentation can be shared across different types of literary composition. In terms of its origin, we cannot offer precise details, but it is not apparently the product of circles distinct from, or isolated within, the scribal context out of which most literature emerged in this period. Broadly speaking, it is a court composition, and the motives for its composition may have included a desire to inculcate key aspects of the elite\u2019s culture. That much can be said of almost every literary text from the Middle Kingdom. We should not, furthermore, waste too much time on the background to its predictive element. Neferti does not explicitly draw on divinatory or oracular sources, any more than does Djedi, the character who makes the predictions in Papyrus Westcar: these are simply men with extraordinary knowledge and quasi-magical powers. In short, then, the Sayings of Neferti is neither a product of some prophetic group in Egypt, nor a useful source for investigating the practice of prophecy or related phenomena. It is, however, a very useful starting-point for examining certain conventions which extended through Egyptian literature, and far beyond.
\nDespite his appearance as a famous writer on the Chester Beatty papyrus, Neferti is not the author of the work in which he appears. Indeed, it is unlikely that he ever existed at all, and the very name Neferti is apparently an intentional wordplay: mdt nfrt is the \u2018fine\u2019 or \u2018perfect\u2019, language central to the concerns of much Egyptian literature, and nfr is also a component of King Snefru\u2019s name. This is actually unusual, to the extent that attributions in Middle Kingdom literature were more commonly to individuals who were probably or certainly historical. Those attributions, however, are no less fictitious, and it is the norm in Egypt, as elsewhere in the ancient Near East, for books to bear the names not of their authors but of their protagonists. This is not unconnected with the presentation of literature as direct speech: a work like the well-known Instruction of Ptahhotep is being depicted as a record of words spoken by a famous vizier from the past, who appears as a character in the introductory narrative; even in those compositions where no such narrative appears in the text, the words are supposed to be heard in the voice of the character. In a very few cases the names given may genuinely be the names of the actual writers, but, as a rule, ancient Near Eastern literature is anonymous and what we are offered on the flyleaf, as it were, is not the name of the author or originator, as it would normally be in classical or modern literature. This habit persists into the apocalyptic literature, of course, and is generally described in terms of pseudonymity. That description is misleading, however, without qualification: this is not a matter of authors pretending to be someone else, but of authors speaking through and about their main character. This is particularly clear in the many cases where the author additionally uses the voice of a narrator to set the scene for his character. Unless prophetic literature constitutes a significant exception to this very common convention, it is a reasonable assumption that the original readership would have understood the attributions of the prophetic books in this way.
\nDetermining how this would have influenced the understanding and reception of the books is not an easy matter. The limited evidence of later Egyptian interpretation, in fact, suggests that a recognition of conventionally fictional attribution sat alongside a willingness to accept, at some level, the historicity of certain historically improbable attributions. We would certainly find such a co-existence uncomfortable, but it is not without parallel in other ancient cultures, including later Judaism, and we might discuss at length, although not perhaps very profitably, the extent to which our own distinctions between fact and fiction would really have been recognized by ancient readers. An understanding that those readers were less inclined than us to equate validity and authenticity with strict historicity may have some truth in it, but the issue, I suspect, is more closely to be associated with the reading of texts for different purposes, or against different sets of conventions. Be that as it may, the important point about attributions is not that they imply or exclude historical authenticity, but that they are potentially descriptive, whether drawing on the reputation of some ancient figure, exploiting the circumstances of a particular period, or as, with Neferti, creating a protagonist with symbolic characteristics. If the prophetic literature is not just drawing on the reputations of real prophets, then it is possible that the characterization of the speakers is similarly of some significance for the way in which their messages are to be understood. Malachi\u2019s name raises some interesting questions in this respect, of course, but we should not neglect the possibility that details offered about other prophets may be intended to convey meaning, rather than being incidental biographical information. Rather than worry about whether Amos really was a shepherd, for instance, it might be interesting to consider why the book is so keen to tell us that he was.
\nWe should also observe that the strong emphasis on literature as speech by a character probably influenced the way that texts were read. We are inclined, perhaps, to see essays where ancient readers heard voices, and so to neglect the narrative aspect of speech. Neferti actually draws in the voice of a narrator to engineer a transition from Neferti\u2019s dialogue with the king to the monologue in which he speaks to his heart, watched and recorded by the king. In an often complicated way, which can make us quite nostalgic for quotation marks, other texts develop dialogues, or even stories, through the interplay of voices. If this is self-evident in, say, the Song of Songs, it is also a crucial feature of some prophetic books, with Second Isaiah and the start of Hosea furnishing obvious instances, but even Joel gliding seamlessly between different speakers. It is a device, furthermore, which lends itself to some ingenuity when the prophet has, as it were, two voices. In the second chapter of Hosea, for example, what seems to be the prophet talking of his wife is revealed to be the god talking about his people. If ancient narrative literature so often revolves around speech, it is also important to recognize that speech can have a narrative dimension.
\nThe presentation of prophetic literature as speeches attributed to individual prophets, then, gives it a character and appearance similar to a lot of other ancient literature. To whatever extent that presentation is the result of its relationship with actual prophetic activity, it seems likely that readers would still have understood that literature in terms of the conventions which governed such texts over a long period. Correspondingly, then, if we do not pay attention to aspects of narration, characterization and attribution associated with those conventions, we risk missing or misunderstanding what is going on. These points are very general, however, and are not only applicable to some other biblical texts, but are of limited significance for understanding those prophetic books in which the characterization or narration is minimal. There may be more specific insights into the function and character of prophetic literature to be gained by comparing it with the relatively limited corpus of texts in which predictive speech plays a central role.
\nIt would be misleading, in fact, to speak of such texts as a corpus, were that taken to imply that historically they all belong together in some way. The extent to which the author of any was conscious of the others is uncertain, but there are strong similarities between them, and we may legitimately consider them broadly, at least, as analogous compositions. The Mesopotamian texts are not all easy to date, but are later than Neferti, with the earliest examples unlikely to have been composed before the twelfth century, and some of the material probably originating in the Seleucid period. The precise number of different compositions represented by the textual evidence is not absolutely certain, but we are probably dealing with no more than five or six distinct works. Typically, like Neferti, these seem to be interested in affirming the value of a particular ruler, through comparison with the situation which preceded him, although some are interested more specifically in the succession of previous rulers than in painting general pictures of chaos. It is worth observing that the short Neo-Assyrian collections, which may contain genuine oracles rather than the literary, if omen-like, compositions of these other texts, are also largely orientated toward affirmation of the king. In other words, the great majority of predictive literary texts outside Israel seem to have support for a king or dynasty among their primary purposes.
\nThat is patently not, in itself, a feature of the Hebrew prophetic books, even if they do often reflect an interest in matters of state. Looking beyond the immediate subject-matter, however, we can see in the foreign texts a very particular use of prediction, or at least of the recounting of predictions. However prestigious the characters who offer the predictions in the literary works, none of the texts is geared to the affirmation or validation of those figures themselves. Rather, their predictions are apparently used to depict the immediate past or present, from the point of view of the author, as the end-point of a historical situation or process. The fact that the past is commonly presented as highly stylized should make us cautious about calling these texts \u2018historiographical\u2019, but their approach is something analogous to historical analysis, and they have an interest in depicting the present against the background of the past, sometimes in connection with assertions of divine action. Predictive literary texts from outside Israel, then, are essentially orientated toward their own present time, which is depicted as the future time of the characters making the predictions. They are interested in the past, but the character of their interest is not antiquarian or memorial, and they are not concerned to validate the speakers who offer predictions.
\nIn comparing the Hebrew prophetic books, we need not get involved in complicated questions about the degree to which particular oracles must be regarded as ex eventu. Again, it is important to distinguish here between prophets and books: if an oracle was spoken in advance of the event, it may nevertheless have become part of a book many years afterwards. There are, to be sure, certain predictions (most obviously the eschatological ones) which could still not have been fulfilled by the time the books containing them were written. Modern scholars have generally accepted, however, that the prophetic books were not composed as predictive almanacs, but rather addressed issues and events which preceded, or were contemporary, with the time of their composition. Whatever the original nature of material within them, then, these books too were presenting predictions made in the past, about events which occurred closer to their time of composition.
\nScholars, however, have also often tended to assume that the writers or editors shared the modern preoccupation with the historical prophets themselves, and with validation of those prophets. Although the great majority of commentators offer no explanation at all for the existence of particular works, there seems to be a widespread perception that the prime purpose of a prophetic book is to preserve the remaining words and recollections of a historical prophet. Andersen and Freedman (1989:7) are more explicit than most, but probably not untypical when they say of the book of Amos that \u2018Amos and his words remain the central factor in the book, and we make our first assumption by arguing that the editor\u2019s purpose is to do precisely that\u2014to make and maintain the centrality of Amos, man and prophet, words and deeds\u2019. Other works, like Obadiah, Nahum or Habakkuk, have so little to say about the prophet that biography or memorialization could hardly be deemed a \u2018central factor\u2019 in the rise of prophetic literature more generally. We might wonder, in fact, whether the contents and arrangement support that claim even in the case of Amos. Like many commentators before and since, Andersen and Freedman have a great deal to say about the life and ministry of Amos, which they reconstruct in great detail. Little of their reconstruction, however, rests on actual statements in the book, which offers a one-verse description of Amos at the start, and a further two verses of self-description by the prophet in Amos 7:14\u201315. Even if we take the vision accounts as memoir and the Amaziah episode as biography, the book can hardly be said to focus much on \u2018man and prophet\u2019 or on \u2018deeds\u2019: it is almost entirely about Amos\u2019s words.
\nRobert Carroll (1981 and elsewhere) has put a strong case for supposing that even in the case of Jeremiah, where the book offers much biography, the historical figure of the prophet is not the real concern, but is essentially the medium through which aspects of the message are conveyed. Whether one accepts that case or not, it is difficult either to argue that the content of most prophetic books betrays a prime interest in the prophet, or to find parallels to such a phenomenon in other ancient literature. On the other hand, if we allow the possibility that we are, in this respect, simply projecting our own interests on to the original authors, then it becomes rather easier to see potential resemblances between the Hebrew prophetic literature and other predictive literary compositions and to suggest that much of the biblical literature may, like the foreign texts, be more concerned with the period in which it is written than with the period in which it is set.
\nWe do not, of course, have to resort to foreign literature in order to recognize that the interests of a prophetic book may relate to a context different from that of the book\u2019s protagonist. With regard to some of the prophecies depicted in other biblical literature, indeed, there can be little doubt that we are dealing with the retrojection of later circumstances and issues\u2014as when, for instance, the man of God in 1 Kings 13 predicts at Bethel the future actions of Josiah. The other predictive literature from the ancient world does, however, not only furnish a model for understanding texts in this way, but also indicates that we may need to reckon with something more important than simple prophecy ex eventu. If it is legitimate to understand some of the foreign material, at least, in terms of historical analysis, then we should be asking more seriously, perhaps, whether the book of Amos, say, is really perhaps intended to serve as an explanation for the fall of the Northern Kingdom, rather than as either an antiquarian memoir or a piece of \u2018told you so\u2019 propaganda. In any case, the uses of the past in predictive literature, combined with the broader issues of attribution and characterization in ancient literature more generally, must surely undercut traditional assumptions about the centrality of the historical prophets to the concerns of prophetic literature.
\nIf the use of the past in predictive literature is interesting, the way it sometimes depicts the past is no less so. I have referred generally to stylization, and a degree of schematization also can be discerned in some of the Mesopotamian material. The links between Neferti and other Egyptian texts, however, show that we are not dealing with something specific only to predictive literary texts, and it is usually recognized that descriptions of the land in chaos constitute a particular motif or topos in Middle Kingdom literature. This can be linked to the centrality of order in Egyptian thought, and also to related political concepts about the land, meaning that while the fact of reference to particular historical periods should not be neglected, the nature of that reference is less than straightforward. There is wide agreement now, at least, that the descriptions should not be used directly as a historical source: they amount to an understanding of the past reflected through a particular ideological prism, and include elements which are detailed enough to be plausible, but which are actually highly conventional. To put it another way, very specific problems described within the accounts are not there because they necessarily happened, but because they indicate the nature of what was taken to have been happening.
\nAlthough the Egyptian texts must be read in the context of the idiosyncratic Egyptian view of the cosmos, the literary predictions from Mesopotamia also include elements which appear to be stereotypes (and which have counterparts in other literature). Although it has precise historical elements as well, the Marduk Prophecy, for example, includes a description of brothers consuming each other, friends striking each other, and aristocrats begging from commoners, along with other things which are bad, but more symbolic than specific. Similarly, the \u0160ulgi prophecy has families breaking apart, children sold for cash and, again, brothers consuming one another. Despite the fact that we have brothers eating each other also in Isa. 9:18\u201319 (ET 19\u201320), the extent to which biblical accounts can be related to all this is complicated by considerations of date and cultural difference. Discerning what is conventional in such depictions is a very different matter from recognizing the use of more widely established and less nationally specific conventions of composition and presentation in literature. It is important to note here, however, some other material which would appear to be a form of literary composition related to prophecy, and which comes from a context rather closer to pre-exilic Israel.
\nThat material is, of course, the text or texts found near Deir \u2018All\u0101, in the Jordan Valley. At least part of this famously concerns a vision by the seer Balaam, but the condition of the texts, and the problem of relationships between the surviving fragments, make it difficult to pronounce with any certainty on the overall character of the composition. We can say, at least, that the vision appears to be recounted within a narrative context, where Balaam is the principal character, and the gods appear to be planning something terrible. We can also say that the text probably dates from the eighth century, and that a local origin is suggested by both its language and its position. Despite its many difficulties, then, this is a direct witness to Palestinian literature in the period, which makes it especially interesting for us to observe that the text seems to include a stylized account of disaster, analogous to the descriptions in the Egyptian and Mesopotamian compositions. This is very fragmentary and difficult to understand, but appears to include birds, animals and humans acting in uncharacteristic ways, probably alongside descriptions of social reversal. While it would be wrong to place too much weight on such material, then, it is nevertheless striking to find such an account of stylized natural and societal disorder in a predictive literary context so close to Israel.
\nTo some extent, this sort of imagery is simply a facet of the poetic language in works like Neferti or the Balaam text. Where it appears in predictive or prophetic literature, it may do so in accounts of future blessings, as well as in descriptions of disaster\u2014the behaviour of the animals in Isa. 11:6, for example, provides an interesting counterpart to that of the animals at Deir \u2018All\u0101. Once we move away from the more obviously symbolic world of birds and animals, however, it is often difficult to determine how far the use of imagery and metonymy extends. Neferti clearly includes certain historical details, such as the fort built by Amenemhet. And yet it has other specifics, such as the incursions by Asiatics, which are less a reference to particular events than the evocation of a common problem. When Neferti, furthermore, speaks of servants taking the place of their masters, the book does not have actual individuals in mind, but is illustrating the broader threat to social and cosmic order. The work uses detailed descriptions to represent a much greater problem, one which transcends the specific instances, and it would be a mistake, therefore, to take those instances either as actual occurrences or as the primary concern.
\nThe possibility that something similar may be happening in parts of the biblical literature should not be ignored. Making allowances for the different conceptualizations of proper social and religious order, we might reasonably wonder whether the author of Amos, for instance, was really convinced that Israel was full of fathers and sons sleeping with the same woman, or men drinking confiscated wine in the temple (Amos 2:7\u20138), or whether Micah truly believed that the land was riddled with women being rude to their mothers-in-law (Mic. 7:6). If these are being adduced poetically by the books as symptoms of the underlying malaise, then the usage in Neferti and elsewhere should warn us against taking them too literally. Neferti does not deduce the threat to order from observations of society, but depicts that threat through an account of societal malfunctions. Similarly, we should perhaps see the social and religious commentary in some prophetic literature not as the basis for condemnation, but as a way of speaking about the collapse of proper order, or the corrosion of the nation\u2019s relationship with Yahweh. This would not sit uncomfortably, of course, with the idea broached earlier, that prophetic literature may have an explanatory function. At the very least, however, we must be extremely cautious about trying to use the prophetic observations as historical data, and, for that matter, of assuming the prophets to have been acute observers of social and religious behaviour.
\nThere are other areas, perhaps, in which predictive literature from elsewhere might raise some interesting questions about the Hebrew prophetic literature. It is not my intention here, however, either to track down all the possibilities, or to suggest firm answers to any of the questions raised already. The comparison of literary works is rarely an exercise in certainties, even where the context and connections are understood well, and study of the Hebrew prophetic books is further complicated by their considerable diversity. If it would be inappropriate to draw general conclusions in each of the areas touched on above, however, it would also be inappropriate to ignore the questions raised by the predictive literature which we possess from elsewhere\u2014not least because some of those questions have already been raised in modern scholarship, on the basis of quite different considerations. The need to be cautious about specifics, furthermore, does not preclude making some general points rather more firmly.
\nIt may be difficult, but it is not illegitimate to seek historical information about prophecy from the prophetic books. Some of the materials which they contain may indeed be authentic oracles, and it seems likely that the literature often seeks to reflect the common forms of address and patterns of speech used by prophets. The function of prophetic literature, however, is not inherently the same as the function of prophecy, and the act even of preserving an oracle verbatim is functionally and qualitatively different from that of delivering an oracle. In fact, as I noted earlier, there are a number of factors which might lead us to see prophetic literature as something rather more than a simple record of speech, but it is, in any case, a phenomenon which requires its own explanation. That explanation is more likely to be found through consideration of other literature and uses of writing, than in the context of prophetic activity itself.
\nIn searching for an understanding of the prophetic books, furthermore, we should avoid presuming that their relationship to the historical phenomenon of prophecy must be a defining, determinative factor, one which links them together and excludes other texts from consideration. Unless we have some particular reason to suppose that Israel\u2019s literature emerged in a highly compartmentalized way, unparalleled elsewhere, then we must be willing to recognize not only that the prophetic books may sometimes be very different from each other, despite their subject-matter, but also that they may share important features with books which are not prophetic, just as Neferti has much in common with other Egyptian texts that are not predictive.
\nBy understanding the biblical prophetic literature principally in terms of Israelite prophetic activity, which may be as egregious a category confusion as anything ever done to Genesis, traditional scholarship on prophecy has justified the rejection as irrelevant of texts which could shed much light on that literature. We do not, in fact, have to assume any specific connection, direct or indirect, with Neferti or the Mesopotamian literary prophecies, in order to appreciate that those works may offer fresh insights into the biblical texts The questions, after all, might almost as readily be raised through analogy with the other texts, as on the basis of any claim to literary dependence or shared literary heritage. We will never ask those questions properly, however, if we fail to break the grip of historical prophecy on the interpretation of prophetic literature. Texts like the Sayings of Neferti can help us\u2014but only if we are willing to ask for their help in the first place.<\/p>\n
Bibliography<\/p>\n
Andersen, F. I., and D. N. Freedman
\n1989 Amos: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB, 24A; New York: Doubleday).
\nBarton, J.
\n1986 Oracles of God: Perceptions of Ancient Prophecy in Israel after the Exile (London: Darton, Longman & Todd).
\nBen Zvi, E.
\n2003 \u2018The Prophetic Book: A Key Form of Prophetic Literature\u2019, in Marvin A. Sweeney and Ehud Ben Zvi (eds.), The Changing Face of Form Criticism for the Twenty-First Century (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans): 276\u201397.
\nBen Zvi, E., and M. H. Floyd (eds.)
\n2000 Writings and Speech in Israelite and Ancient Near Eastern Prophecy (SBL Symposium Series, 10; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature).
\nBlackman, A. M.
\n1988 The Story of King Kheops and the Magicians: Transcribed from Papyrus Westcar (Berlin Papyrus 3033). Edited for Publication by W. V. Davies (Reading: J. V. Books).
\nCarr, D.
\n2005 Writing on the Tablet of the Heart: Origins of Scripture and Literature (New York: Oxford University Press).
\nCarroll, R. P.
\n1981 From Chaos to Covenant: Uses of Prophecy in the Book of Jeremiah (London: SCM Press).
\nCerny, J.
\n1962 \u2018Egyptian Oracles\u2019, in R. Parker, A Saite Oracle Papyrus from Thebes in the Brooklyn Museum (Papyrus Brooklyn 47.218.3) (Providence, RI: Brown University Press): 35\u201348.
\nClements, R. E.
\n2000 \u2018The Prophet as an Author: The Case of the Isaiah Memoir\u2019, in Ben Zvi and Floyd (eds.) 2000: 89\u2013101.
\nDavies, P. R.
\n1996 \u2018The Audiences of Prophetic Scrolls: Some Suggestions\u2019, in S. B. Reid (ed.), Prophets and Paradigms: Essays in Honor of Gene M. Tucker (JSOTSup, 229; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press): 48\u201362.
\ndeJong Ellis, M.
\n1987 \u2018The Goddess Kititum Speaks to King Ibalpiel: Oracle Texts from Ischali\u2019, MARI 5: 235\u201366.
\n1989 \u2018Observations on Mesopotamian Oracles and Prophetic Texts: Literary and Historiographic Considerations\u2019, JCS 41: 127\u201386.
\nEnmarch, R.
\n2005 The Dialogue of Ipuwer and the Lord of All (Oxford: Griffith Institute)
\nFloyd, M. H.
\n1993 \u2018Prophecy and Writing in Habakkuk 2, 1\u20135\u2019, ZAW 105: 462\u201369.
\nGardiner, A. H.
\n1909 The Admonitions of an Ancient Egyptian Sage, from a Hieratic Papyrus in Leiden (Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs).
\n1935 Hieratic Papyri in the British Museum. Third series, Chester Beatty Gift (London: British Museum).
\nGillam, R.
\n2005 Performance and Drama in Ancient Egypt (London: Duckworth).
\nGrabbe, L. L.
\n1995 Priests, Prophets, Diviners, Sages: A Socio-Historical Study of Religious Specialists in Ancient Israel (Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press International).
\nGrayson, A. K., and W. G. Lambert
\n1964 \u2018Akkadian Prophecies\u2019, JCS 18: 7\u201330.
\nHelck, W.
\n1970 Die Prophezeiungdes Nfr.tj (Kleine \u00c4gyptische Texte; Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz).
\nHoftijzer, J., and G. van der Kooij
\n1976 Aramaic Texts from Deir \u2018Alla (DMOA 19; Leiden: Brill).
\nLichtheim, M.
\n1973\u201380 Ancient Egyptian Literature (3 vols.; Berkeley: University of California Press).
\nLoprieno, A.
\n1996 \u2018Defining Egyptian Literature: Ancient Texts and Modern Literary Theory\u2019, in J. S. Cooper and G. M. Schwarz (eds.), The Study of the Ancient Near East in the Twenty-First Century. The William Foxwell Albright Centennial Conference (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns): 209\u201332.
\nLuria, S.
\n1929 \u2018Die Ersten werden die Letzten sein\u2019, Klio 22: 405\u2013431
\nMorenz, L. D.
\n2003 \u2018Literature as a Construction of the Past in the Middle Kingdom\u2019, in J. Tait (ed.), \u2018Never Had the Like Occurred\u2019: Egypt\u2019s View of Its Past (Encounters with Ancient Egypt; London: UCL Press): 101\u201317.
\nMorris, G.
\n1996 Prophecy, Poetry and Hosea (JSOTSup, 219; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press).
\nNissinen, M.
\n2000a \u2018Spoken, Written, Quoted, and Invented: Orality and Writtenness in Ancient Near Eastern Prophecy\u2019, in Ben Zvi and Floyd (eds.) 2000: 235\u201371.
\n2000b \u2018The Socio-religious Role of the Neo-Assyrian Prophets\u2019, in M. Nissinen (ed.), Prophecy in its Ancient Near Eastern Context: Mesopotamian, Biblical, and Arabian Perspectives (SBL Symposium Series, 13; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature): 89\u2013114.
\nNissinen, M.
\n2003 Prophets and Prophecy in the Ancient Near East: With Contributions by C. L. Seow and Robert K. Ritner (ed. Peter Machinist; SBLWAW, 12; Leiden: Brill).
\nParkinson, R. B.
\n1991 Voices from Ancient Egypt: An Anthology of Middle Kingdom Writings (London: British Museum).
\n1997 The Tale of Sinuhe and Other Ancient Egyptian Poems 1940\u20131640 BC (Oxford: Clarendon Press).
\n2002 Poetry and Culture in Middle Kingdom Egypt: A Dark Side to Perfection (Athlone Publications in Egyptology and Ancient Near Eastern Studies; London: Continuum).
\nParpola, S.
\n1997 Assyrian Prophecies (SAA, 9; Helsinki: Helsinki University Press).
\nPosener, G.
\n1956 Litt\u00e9rature et Politique dans l\u2019Egypte de la XIIe Dynastie (Biblioth\u00e8que de l\u2019Ecole des Hautes Etudes, IVe section, Sciences historiques et philologiques, 307; Paris: H. Champion).
\nQuirke, S.
\n2004 Egyptian Literature 1800 BC: Questions and Readings (London: Golden House Publications).
\nShupak, N.
\n1989\u201390 \u2018Egyptian \u201cProphecy\u201d and Biblical Prophecy: Did the Phenomenon of Prophecy, in the Biblical Sense, Exist in Ancient Egypt?\u2019, Jaarbericht van het Vooraziatisch-Egyptisch Genootschap, Ex Oriente Lux 31: 5\u201340.
\nToorn, K. van der
\n2000 \u2018From the Oral to the Written: The Case of Old Babylonian Prophecy\u2019, in Ben Zvi and Floyd (eds.) 2000: 219\u201334.
\n2004 \u2018From the Mouth of the Prophet: The Literary Fixation of Jeremiah\u2019s Prophecies in the Context of the Ancient Near East\u2019, in J. Kaltner and L. Stulman (eds.), Inspired Speech: Prophecy in the Ancient Near East. Essays in Honor of Herbert B. Huffmon (JSOTSup, 378; London: T&T Clark International): 191\u2013202.
\nWeeks, S.
\n1999 \u2018Whose Words? Qoheleth, Hosea, and Attribution in Biblical Literature\u2019, in Peter J. Harland and Robert Hayward (eds.), New Heaven and New Earth. Prophecy and the Millennium: Essays in Honour of Anthony Gelston (Leiden: Brill): 151\u201370.<\/p>\n
FEMALE PROPHETS IN THE ANCIENT NEAR EAST<\/p>\n
Jonathan St\u00f6kl<\/p>\n
The study of prophecy has a special place in religious studies, particularly the study of Judaism, Christianity and Islam, all of which understand their religion as based on prophetic revelation. As a consequence, the bibliography on prophets is vast. By contrast, the number of studies on female prophets is relatively small. This is partly related to the fact that evidence for female prophets in the Scriptures of Judaism, Christianity and Islam is relatively scarce. The evidence for female prophets in the ancient Near East is much fuller. Texts from Mari and the Neo-Assyrian empire provide information about female prophets in these two societies. Often, texts from Late Bronze Age Emar are cited in this context as well, but, as will be shown below, neither of the two specialists referred to in texts from that city are prophets.
\nFor the purposes of this study, a \u2018female prophet\u2019 is a woman who either (a) transmits a deity\u2019s message, which had not been requested by the addressee or any other human, to a human addressee, or (b) is referred to in a text as a \u2018female prophet\u2019. The term for professional female prophets in Old-Babylonian Akkadian is \u0101piltu, while raggintu is the term used in Neo-Assyrian texts. Both cultures also have a word for men and women who are \u2018ecstatic\u2019 and who also transmit divine messages. I do not, however, understand them as professional prophets, but rather as people who, because they would at times be ecstatic, are often chosen by a god as messengers. They are neither professional prophets nor lay prophets, but they occupy something of a middle ground. The terms used for them are mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btum (Old Babylonian) and ma\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btum (Neo-Assyrian).
\nAlthough the texts mentioning ancient Near Eastern women prophets are included in the modern collections of prophetic texts, I am not aware of any publication devoted exclusively to female prophets in the ancient Near Eastern, a lacuna which this article aims to close. Due to limitations of space, I will not engage here with recent feminist anthropological theories regarding gender and prophecy, or \u2018alterity\u2019 as it is sometimes called in the anthropological debate.
\nAmong the prophetic figures attested in the extra-biblical ancient Near Eastern sources we find considerably more women than in the Bible. However, the commonly drawn picture that women were prevalent among the prophets in the ancient Near East has to be modified. We have to distinguish very carefully between the Neo-Assyrian sources on the one hand and sources from Mari on the other. For Mari there is a fairly high number of prophets of various kinds. In the Neo-Assyrian texts, the number of individuals is far lower and the relative number of women much higher. Outside these two corpora, ancient Near Eastern sources that refer to prophecy are scarce, and no further woman prophets are attested. Before analysing the evidence from the two ancient Near Eastern corpora\u2014the royal archives from Mari and those from Nineveh\u2014it is necessary to assess the evidence for prophecy at Emar.
\nTo my knowledge, the first to suggest translating *munabbi\u0101tu as \u2018prophetesses\u2019 was Daniel Arnaud, the editor of most of the Emar texts, presumably because it contains the root nb\u02be. However, there is no indication in the text that these women prophesy.
\nThe verb nubb\u00fb is attested eight times in adoption documents at Emar. It always occurs as part of the standard expression which requires the adopted party to \u2018call my gods and my dead\u2019 in what is probably connected to some form of cultic provision for the adopted parent after their death. Prophecy, however, does not appear in this context at all. It is, therefore, somewhat surprising that these texts have been read as prophetic.<\/p>\n
1. Female Prophets in Mari<\/p>\n
The royal Archives of Mari contain in excess of 70 texts which contain references to prophecy; a relatively substantial number. At Mari, two titles are associated closely with prophecy: the \u0101piltum, who is a professional female prophet; and the mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btum, who is an ecstatic who sometimes prophesies. Normally, the mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btum is understood as a professional prophet in the scholarly literature. However, while the mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btum (plural) deliver divine messages to the king, they also seem to display raving behaviour which does not lead to prophecy, suggesting that prophecy might only have been one aspect of their role. There are also other individuals who prophesy, individuals who will be referred to as female \u2018lay-prophets\u2019 in this study. The fact that these people are not referred to as \u0101piltum (\u2018female prophet\u2019) in the texts, suggests that they were people of various professions and walks of life, including temple personnel who happen to prophesy.<\/p>\n
1.1. Female Lay-Prophets<\/p>\n
Only one of the names of the four female lay-prophets at Mari is known to us today. The qammatum of Dagan of Terqa remains nameless. Her title, qammatum, used to be read qabbatum (\u2018speaker\u2019), but the correct reading qammatum is now established beyond reasonable doubt. As this word only appears in three texts and nowhere else in the entire cuneiform record, it seems impossible to find a precise meaning for it. The title is related to the verb qam\u0101mu (\u2018to bind up [of hair]\u2019), and Heimpel translates it as \u2018shock head\u2019 (Heimpel 2003: 251\u201352). In most studies on prophecy at Mari, the qammatum is listed among the professional prophets. She is discussed only briefly since the amount of data on her is not sufficient to describe her role with a sufficient degree of confidence. She may have been a professional prophet, but it seems more likely that she fulfilled a similar role to the mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btum. Possibly she was a temple functionary whose prophecy was incidental.
\nThere are two other prophesying women whose names did not survive. The first gives the most violent of the prophetic oracles from Mari. She starts her oracle with Dagan i\u0161puranni (\u2018Dagan sent me\u2019), which, incidentally, is one of the few times that any of the prophesying figures from Mari claims to have been divinely \u2018sent\u2019 to report an oracle. The letter mentioning the second of these two lay-prophets is badly damaged and only parts of the oracle itself remain legible, so that we cannot glean any information from the text on who the prophesying woman was or what she did.
\nThe only Mari female lay-prophet whose name has survived is A\u1e2batum, a servant of a certain Dagan-Malik. A\u1e2batum pronounces her message in the temple of the goddess Annunitum inside the city. The priest A\u1e2b\u016bm brings A\u1e2batum\u2019s message to \u0160ibtu, the queen, who in turn relays these to her husband Zimri-Lim. In her letter, \u0160ibtu not only relates the oracle but also the fact that A\u1e2batum had been \u2018raving\u2019\u2014imma\u1e2b\u1e2bima\u2014a verb that is never used when describing the actions of a professional prophet. It might have been used here to assure the king that the message by the servant A\u1e2batum was a divine message.
\nThere is an additional text which is usually included as one of the prophetic texts from Mari. In this text, \u0160ibtu writes to her husband explaining that she had given two people, a man and a woman, something to drink and then questioned them on an ongoing war. This text is not only grammatically difficult but also badly damaged. Most interpreters think that the man and woman are referred to as itt\u0101tum \u2018signs\u2019 by \u0160ibtu. However, Wilcke has convincingly shown that itt\u0101tum should be understood as ominous \u2018signs\u2019 about which the queen asks \u2018the man and the woman\u2019. Therefore, this text is not treated as a case of prophecy here.<\/p>\n
1.2. The mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btum and the \u0101piltum<\/p>\n
As mentioned above, I understand the mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btum as a \u2018raver\u2019 who also prophesies, and not as a professional prophet. In contrast to this, the \u0101piltum is a professional prophet, meaning that sociologically speaking her main function is to prophesy. Both titles also appear in a masculine form: \u0101pilum and mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u00fbm, respectively. I concur with the assessment by Batto that there is no detectable functional difference between the \u0101piltum and the \u0101pilum; the same is true for the mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btum and the mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u00fbm (Batto 1974: 124). However, Batto did not notice any difference in the gender-distribution, which is remarkable in its unevenness, even if we allow for accidents of preservation.
\nA short discussion of the translation for the two terms is now necessary to help understand the different standing of the two groups. The mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btum is a woman who habitually \u2018raves\u2019. In other words, the usual interpretation of the mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btum as an \u2018ecstatic\u2019 is well-founded and we should not be too surprised to find evidence for unusual behaviour.
\nThe \u0101piltum is commonly translated as a \u2018female answerer\u2019, from the verb ap\u0101lu (\u2018to answer\u2019), in spite of the problem that no \u0101piltum or \u0101pilum is attested as answering a question. Recently, Merlo suggested a link between the OB term \u0101piltum\/\u0101pilum and a lexical list from twenty-fourth-century BCE Ebla, in which \u0101pilum is equated with Sumerian EME. BAL (\u2018translator\u2019). Because of the links between Ebla and Mari, both in the Early Bronze Age but also in the early Middle Bronze Age, I follow Merlo\u2019s lead and render \u0101piltum\/\u0101pilum as \u2018spokesperson\u2019. To be clear, this translation does not propose a different etymology, but relies on a different part of the semantic range of the verb ap\u0101lu.
\nThere are four individual male mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u00fbm and two individual female mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btum in the Mari texts. The two women are \u1e2aubatum and Annu-tabni. \u1e2aubatum gives an oracle against the Yaminites, a tribe that sometimes rebelled against Zimri-Lim\u2019s overlordship. Annu-tabni is listed as the recipient of a \u2018utuplum-garment\u2019 as part of the distribution of clothing by royal officials.
\nThere is one additional though anonymous mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btum who is mentioned in a letter written by the queen mother, Addu-Duri. Her name was evidently never included in this text, which is in a relatively good state of preservation. This nameless mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btum admonishes the king not to go on a military campaign but to stay put in Mari (Durand 1988: 479).
\nFinally, a group of mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u0101tu, probably the nominative plural of mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btum, is mentioned in one of the two ritual texts for E\u0161tar. In the other ritual text, one (male) mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u00fbm is described in similar but not quite identical circumstances: in case the ecstatics do not enter in a state of ecstasy, the musicians are sent away. Conversely, only if the ecstatics are ecstatic do the musicians sing their song.
\nI find no differences in the way that mu\u1e2b\u1e2bum and mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btum are portrayed in the texts. Further, taking into account that not all texts have survived, we have roughly equal numbers of mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u00fbm and mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btum, and both are involved in the important Ritual of E\u0161tar that was held at the end of the month.
\nThe case with the \u0101piltum is in some respects similar and in another very different from the situation just described: \u0101pilum and \u0101piltum are both portrayed in very similar ways. However, there is only one \u0101piltum attested in the texts, whereas the number of her male counterparts is much higher. Since the evidence suggests that there was no gendered difference between the \u0101piltum and the \u0101pilum, texts in which the male form is attested will be used to describe the \u0101piltum as well. Thus, an \u0101pilum could send letters to the king directly without having to go through a member of the royal family or a governor. Further, they could be sent out on missions, as the episode about Lupa\u1e2bum and his trips to D\u0113r and Tuttul shows. While these features are not present in the text involving Innibana, there is no indication that she could not have been sent on a mission to another city as well. Durand describes the \u0101piltum as a higher-level prophet than her counterpart the mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btum. The \u0101piltum was a kind of \u2018special agent in prophecy\u2019 who seems to have occupied a relatively high status in Mariote society\u2014though still considerably below that of some other religious specialists, such as the bar\u00fb (\u2018haruspex\u2019).
\nThe gender distribution between male and female prophets is striking: there are nine named \u0101pilum-prophets and six further texts mention \u0101pilum-prophets whose names were not preserved There is, however, only one single \u0101piltum, Innibana. When seen in conjunction with the fact that there are roughly even numbers of mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u00fbm and mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btum, I find myself drawn to the conclusion that the gender imbalance between these two groups is most easily explained as an expression of the difference in social standing between the professional \u0101piltum on the one hand and the mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btum on the other. This means that while there certainly were men and women involved in professional prophecy at Mari, women had mostly to content themselves with a lower-status position.<\/p>\n
2. Female Prophets in Neo-Assyrian Texts<\/p>\n
The Neo-Assyrian corpus of texts recording prophetic messages includes ten tablets relating oracles, some of them collecting more than one oracle, and some further twenty texts referring to prophecy. The professional title is raggintu and corresponding to the Old Babylonian mu\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btu there is the ma\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btu, the Assyrian dialect form. The word raggintu is a Neo-Assyrian feminine G-participle of the verb rag\u0101mu (\u2018to call\u2019).
\nThe Neo-Assyrian texts mention 13 female prophets, with an additional reference to the feminine plural ma\u1e2b\u1e2b\u0101tu in a text outlining provisions at the A\u0161\u0161ur temple in Assur. Among those prophets whose names have been included in the documents and which have survived, ten are female. The first eight are: A\u1e2b\u0101t-ab\u012b\u0161a, Dunna\u0161a-\u0101mur, Iss\u0101r-b\u0113l\u012bda\u2019 \u2019ini, Mullissu-abu-u\u1e63ri, Mullissu-kabtat, R\u0113m\u016bt-Allati, Sinq\u012b\u0161a-\u0101mur, and Urkittu-\u0161arrat. Further commentary is provided below regarding the remaining two. There are three cases in which the gender of the prophet is debated: (1) B\u0101ia, (2) Ilussa-\u0101mur, and (3) Iss\u0101r-la-ta\u0161\u012ba\u1e6d.
\nB\u0101ia\u2019s name is spelt with a female determinative in two of the three texts. In the third text, in which Parpola reconstructs almost her entire name, [TA* pi-i M\u00cd.ba-ia]-\u02f9a\u02fa, the person is described as an arba\u02be \u012blayya (\u2018son of Arbela\u2019). It is therefore not at all clear whether this text should be attributed to B\u0101ia the female prophet.
\nIlussa-\u0101mur\u2019s name is spelt with a female determinative in two texts. In one of these, Parpola restores a male gentilic. Weippert has pointed out that Parpola\u2019s reconstruction is not necessary or even preferable.
\nIn the text mentioning Iss\u0101r-l\u0101-ta\u0161\u012ba\u1e6d, the gender determinative in front of her name is under debate. Irrespective of that question, the biological gender of Iss\u0101r-l\u0101-ta\u0161\u012ba\u1e6d itself is probably male: Edzard has shown that the female form of the name would have been *Iss\u0101r-l\u0101-ta\u0161i\u1e6d\u1e6d\u012b\u2019 (Edzard 1962: 126). The easier explanation for the female gender determinative in front of an obviously male name is scribal error and not necessarily castration or cross-gender dress and\/or behaviour, as suggested by Parpola and Huffmon. The evidence is not strong enough to support such an interpretation and in view of that, it is better not to impose Western conceptions of gender on to the Neo-Assyrian data.
\nApart from the ten named female prophets, there are five additional texts which mention women prophets. However, one of these texts is so damaged that the name is lost, while the other four never mentioned the names of the female prophets. One of these texts is a letter relating an episode in which \u2018a slave-girl of B\u0113l-a\u1e2bu-u\u1e63ur\u2019 prophesied in the name of the male god Nusku in favour of Sas\u00ee, a high official and contender to the throne of Esarhaddon.
\nThis quick overview has shown that the vast majority of named prophets in the Neo-Assyrian texts are female, and that female prophecy, often in the name of some form of I\u0161tar, was well established in the Neo-Assyrian empire. As far as the sources tell us, female prophets fulfilled all the prophetic functions performed by their male colleagues. In the case of Neo-Assyrian prophecy, this caveat is quite important, since, of the 62 prophetic texts, ten are too damaged and do not preserve name or gender of the prophet, whereas 24 texts never mentioned their gender in the first place. This last group of texts, however, can also be interpreted in a different way, namely, that to the writers of these texts which mention prophecy but not the prophets\u2019 gender, the gender might not have been of major importance. Read in this way, these 24 texts actually strengthen the view that understands Neo-Assyrian female prophets as fulfilling the same function as their male counterparts.
\nIn this short survey of female prophets in the ancient Near East I have shown that no differences between men and women can be found with regard to their prophetic function. In Mari there is a correlation between the social status of a prophetic profession and the numerical distribution of gender\u2014the higher the status, the fewer women we find. Among the Neo-Assyrian prophets there is a roughly even distribution of male and female prophets with a slight majority of women. This finding applies equally to both prophetic titles and to prophets without titles.<\/p>\n
Bibliography<\/p>\n
Arnaud, D.
\n1986 Recherches au pays d\u2019A\u0161tata. Emar VI\/3. Textes sum\u00e9riens et accadiens. Texte (Paris: ERC).
\n1987 \u2018La Syrie du moyen-Euphrate sous le protectorat hittite: contrats de droit priv\u00e9\u2019, AuOr 5: 211\u201344.
\n1996 \u2018Mariage et remariage des femmes chez les Syriens du moyen-Euphrate, \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e2ge du bronze r\u00e9cent d\u2019apr\u00e8s deux nouveaux documents\u2019, Sem 46: 7\u201316.
\nBarr, J.
\n1961 The Semantics of Biblical Language (London: Oxford University Press).
\nBatto, B. F.
\n1974 Studies on Women at Mari (Johns Hopkins Near Eastern Studies, 5, Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press).
\nBeckman, G. M.
\n1996 Texts from the Vicinity of Emar in the Collection of Jonathan Rosen (HANE\/M, 2; Padova: Sargon).
\nBirot, M.
\n1960 Textes administratifs de la salle 5 du Palais (ARM, 9; Paris: Imprimerie nationale).
\nBorger, R.
\n2004 Mesopotamisches Zeichenlexikon (AOAT, 305; M\u00fcnster: Ugarit-Verlag).
\nCagni, L.
\n1995 Le profezie di Mari (Testi del Vicino Oriente antico, 2, Letterature mesopotamiche, 2; Brescia: Paideia).
\nCharpin, D.
\n1988 Archives \u00e9pistolaires de Mari, II (ARM 26\/II, Paris: ERC).
\n2002 \u2018Proph\u00e8tes et rois dans le Proche-Orient amorrite. Nouvelles donn\u00e9es, nouvelles perspectives\u2019, in D. Charpin and J.-M. Durand (eds.), Florilegium marianum VI. Recueil d\u2019\u00e9tudes \u00e0 la m\u00e9moire d\u2019Andr\u00e9 Parrot (M\u00e9moires de NABU., 7; Suppl\u00e9ment \u00e0 N. ABU. 2002, 3; Paris: SEPOA): 7\u201338.
\nChavalas, M. W. (ed.)
\n1996 Emar: The History, Religion, and Culture of a Syrian Town in the Late Bronze Age (Bethesda: CDL Press).
\nCohen, M. E.
\n1988 The Canonical Lamentations of Ancient Mesopotamia (Potomac: Capital Decisions).
\ndeJong Ellis, M.
\n1987 \u2018The Goddess Kititum Speaks to King Ibalpiel: Oracle Texts from Ishchali\u2019, Mari 5: 235\u201366.
\nDurand, J.-M.
\n1982 \u2018In Vino Veritas\u2019, RA 76: 43\u201350.
\n1988 Archives \u00e9pistolaires de Mari, I (ARM, 26.I; Paris: ERC).
\n1989 \u2018Tombes familiares et culte des Anc\u00eatres \u00e0 Em\u00e2r\u2019, NABU 1989 \u00a7 112.
\n1995 \u2018La religi\u00f3n en Siria durante la \u00e9poca de los reinos amorreos seg\u00fan la documentaci\u00f3n de Mari\u2019, in P. Mander and J.-M. Durand (eds.), Mitolog\u00eda y religi\u00f3n del Oriente Antiguo, 2\/1. Semitas occidentales (Sabadell: AUSA): 125\u2013533.
\n2002 Le culte d\u2019Addu d\u2019Alep et l\u2019affaire d\u2019Alahtum (Florilegium Marianum, 7; Paris: SEPOA).
\nDurand, J.-M., and M. Guichard
\n1997 \u2018Les rituels de Mari\u2019, in D. Charpin and J.-M. Durand (eds.), Florilegium marianum. III. Recueil d\u2019\u00e9tudes \u00e0 la m\u00e9moire de Marie-Th\u00e9r\u00e8se Barrelet (M\u00e9moires de N.A.B.U., 4; Suppl\u00e9ment \u00e0 N.A.B.U. 1997, 2; Paris: SEPOA), 19\u201378.
\nEdzard, D. O.
\n1962 \u2018mNingal-gamil, fI\u0161tar-damqat. Die Genuskongruenz im akkadischen theophoren Personennamen\u2019, ZA 55: 113\u201330.
\nFeliu, L.
\n2003 The God Dagan in Bronze Age Syria (CHANE, 19; Leiden: Brill).
\nFleming, D. E.
\n1993a \u2018The Etymological Origins of the Hebrew nab\u00ee\u2019: The One Who Invokes God\u2019, CBQ 55: 217\u201324.
\n1993b \u2018L\u00da and ME\u0160 in l\u00fana-bi-ime\u0161 and Its Mari Brethren\u2019, NABU 1993 \u00a74.
\n1993c \u2018Nab\u00fb and Munabbiatu. Two New Syrian Religious Personnel\u2019, JAOS 113: 175\u201383.
\n2004 \u2018Prophets and Temple Personnel in the Mari Archives\u2019, in L. L. Grabbe and A. O. Bellis (eds.), The Priests in the Prophets: The Portrayal of Priests, Prophets, and Other Religious Specialists in the Latter Prophets (JSOTSup, 408; London: T. & T. Clark): 44\u201364.
\nFrymer-Kensky, T. S.
\n2006 Studies in Bible and Feminist Criticism (JPS Scholar of Distinction Series; Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society).
\nGafney, W.
\n2008 Daughters of Miriam: Women Prophets in Ancient Israel (Minneapolis: Fortress Press).
\nGrabbe, L. L.
\n1995 Priests, Prophets, Diviners, Sages: A Socio-Historical Study of Religious Specialists in Ancient Israel (Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press International).
\nGurney, O. R.
\n1955 The Assyrian Tablets from Sultantepe (Proceedings of the British Academy; London: Oxford University Press).
\nGurney, O. R., and J. J. Finkelstein
\n1957 The Sultantepe Tablets, I (Occasional Publications of the British Institute of Archaeology at Ankara, 3\/7; London: British Institute of Archaeology at Ankara).
\nHeimpel, W.
\n2003 Letters to the King of Mari: A New Translation, With Historical Introduction, Notes, and Commentary (MC, 12; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns).
\nHeschel, S.
\n2004 \u2018Gender and Agency in the Feminist Historiography of Jewish Identity\u2019, Journal of Religion 84: 580\u201391.
\nHess, R. S.
\n2007 Israelite Religions: An Archaeological and Biblical Survey (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic; Nottingham: Apollos).
\nHuehnergard, J.
\n1983 \u2018Five Tablets from the Vicinity of Emar\u2019, RA 77: 11\u201343.
\n1999 \u2018On the Etymology and Meaning of Hebrew N\u0100B\u00ce\u02be\u2019, Eretz-Israel 26: 88*\u201393*.
\nHuffmon, H. B.
\n2004 \u2018The Assinnum as Prophet: Shamans at Mari?\u2019, in: C. Nicolle (ed.), Amurru 3. Nomades et s\u00e9dentaires dans le Proche-Orient ancien. Compte rendu de la XLVIe Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, (Paris, 10\u201313 juillet 2000) (CRRAI, 46; Paris: ERC): 241\u201347.
\nJong, M. J. de
\n2007 Isaiah Among the Ancient Near Eastern Prophets: A Comparative Study of the Earliest Stages of the Isaiah Tradition and the Neo-Assyrian Prophecies (VTSup, 117; Leiden: Brill).
\nKataja, L., and R. M. Whiting
\n1995 Grants, Decrees and Gifts of the Neo-Assyrian Period (SAA, 12; Helsinki: Helsinki University Press).
\nKeller, M.
\n2002 The Hammer and the Flute: Women, Power, and Spirit Possession (Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press).
\nKitchen, K. A.
\n2003 On the Reliability of the Old Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans).
\nLabat, R., and F. Malbran-Labat
\n1995 Manuel d\u2019\u00e9pigraphie akkadienne: Signes, syllabaire, id\u00e9ogrammes (Geuthner manuels; Paris: Geuthner).
\nLafont, B.
\n1984 \u2018Le roi de Mari et les proph\u00e8tes du dieu Adad\u2019, RA 78: 7\u201318.
\nMarsman, H. J.
\n2003 Women in Ugarit and Israel: Their Social and Religious Position in the Context of the Ancient Near East (OTS, 49; Leiden: Brill).
\nMerlo, P.
\n2004 \u2018apilum of Mari: A Reappraisal\u2019, UF 36: 323\u201332.
\nNissinen, M.
\n1998 References to Prophecy in Neo-Assyrian Sources (SAAS, 7; Helsinki: Neo-Assyrian Corpus Project).
\n2003 Prophets and Prophecy in the Ancient Near East (SBLWAW, 12; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature).
\n2004 \u2018What is Prophecy? An Ancient Near Eastern Perspective\u2019, in J. Kaltner and L. Stulman (eds.), Inspired Speech: Prophecy in the Ancient Near East: Essays in Honour of Herbert B. Huffmon (JSOTSup, 378; London: T&T Clark International): 17\u201337.
\nParpola, S.
\n1997 Assyrian Prophecies (SAA, 9; Helsinki: Helsinki University Press).
\nParpola, S., K. Radner, H. D. Baker and R. M. Whiting (eds.)
\n1998\u2013 The Prosopography of the Neo-Assyrian Empire (Helsinki: Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, University of Helsinki).
\nPettinato, G.
\n1976 \u2018The Royal Archives of Tell Mardikh-Ebla\u2019, BA 39: 44\u201352.
\n1981 The Archives of Ebla: An Empire Inscribed in Clay (Garden City, NY: Doubleday).
\nPitard, W. T.
\n1996 \u2018Care of the Dead at Emar\u2019, in Chavalas (ed.) 1996: 123\u201340.
\nRoberts, J. J. M.
\n2002 \u2018The Mari Prophetic Texts in Transliteration and English Translation\u2019, in The Bible and the Ancient Near East: Collected Essays (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns): 157\u2013253.
\nSasson, J. M.
\n1994 \u2018The Posting of Letters with Divine Messages\u2019, in D. Charpin and J.-M. Durand (eds.), Florilegium marianum II. Recueil d\u2019\u00e9tudes \u00e0 la m\u00e9moire de Maurice Birot (M\u00e9moires de N.A.B.U., 3; Suppl\u00e9ment \u00e0 N.A.B.U. 1994, 2; Paris: SEPOA): 299\u2013316.
\nSchmidt, B. B.
\n1996 \u2018The Gods and the Dead of the Domestic Cult at Emar\u2019, in Chavalas (ed.) 1996: 141\u201363.
\nSchroeder, O.
\n1920 Keilschrifttexte aus Assur verschiedenen Inhalts. Autographiert, mit Inhalts\u00fcbersicht und Namenliste versehen (WVDOG, 35; Ausgrabungen der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft in Assur. E, Inschriften 3. Keilschriftetexte verschiedenen Inhalts autographiert von Otto Schroeder; Leipzig: Hinrichs).
\nSoden, W. von
\n1989 \u2018Dolmetscher und Dolmetschen im Alten Orient\u2019, in L. Cagni and H.-P. M\u00fcller (eds.), Aus Sprache, Geschichte und Religion Babyloniens. Gesammelte Aufs\u00e4tze (Naples: Istituto Universitario Orientale Dipartimento di Studi e Ricerche su Africa e Paesi Arabi): 351\u201357.
\nSoden, W., von and W. R\u00f6llig
\n1991 Das akkadische Syllabar (AnOr, 42; Rome: Pontificium Istitutum Biblicum, 4th edn).
\nSt\u00f6kl, J.
\n2009 \u2018I\u0161tar\u2019s Women, YHWH\u2019s Men? A Curious Gender-Bias in Neo-Assyrian and Biblical Prophecy\u2019, ZAW 121: 87\u2013100.
\nforthcoming \u2018Where are All the Prophetesses Gone? Women and Prophetic Communication in Mari\u2019, in J. Silverman and L. Matassa (eds.), Text, Theology, and Trowel: New Investigations in the Biblical World (provisional title).
\nvan der Toorn, K.
\n1994 \u2018Gods and Ancestors in Emar and Nuzi\u2019, ZA 84: 38\u201359.
\n1998 \u2018Old Babylonian Prophecy between the Oral and the Written\u2019, JNSL 24: 55\u201370.
\nTsukimoto, A.
\n1989 \u2018Emar and the Old Testament\u2014Preliminary Remarks\u2019, Annual of the Japanese Biblical Institute 15: 3\u201324.
\nWatanabe, K.
\n1987 Die ad\u00ea-Vereidigung anl\u00e4sslich der Thronfolgeregelung Asarhaddons (Baghdader Mitteilungen, Beihefte, 3; Berlin: Mann).
\nWeippert, M.
\n1988 \u2018Aspekte israelitischer Prophetie im Lichte verwandter Erscheinungen des Alten Orients\u2019, in U. Magen and G. Mauer (eds.), Ad bene et fideliter seminandum. Festgabe f\u00fcr Karlheinz Deller zum 21. Februar 1987 (AOAT, 220; Kevelaer: Butzon & Bercker; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag): 287\u2013319.
\n2002 \u2018 \u201cK\u00f6nig, f\u00fcrchte dich nicht!\u201d Assyrische Prophetie im 7. Jahrhundert v. Chr.\u2019, Or 71: 1\u201354.
\nWestenholz, J. G.
\n2000 Cuneiform Inscriptions in the Collection of the Bible Lands Museum Jerusalem: The Emar Tablets (Cuneiform Monographs, 13; Groningen: Styx).
\nWilcke, C.
\n1983 \u2018ittatim a\u0161qi a\u0161tal: Medien in Mari?\u2019, RA 77: 93.
\nZiegler, N.
\n2007 Florilegium marianum. IX. Les Musiciens et la musique d\u2019apr\u00e8s les archives de Mari (M\u00e9moires de N.A.B.U., 10; Supplement \u00e0 N.A.B.U. 2007, 3; Paris: SEPOA).<\/p>\n
THE PROPHETS AND PSYCHOLOGICAL INTERPRETATION<\/p>\n
Paul M. Joyce<\/p>\n
Among the many so-called new methods that have played a part within biblical studies over recent decades has been the application of the insights of psychology to the task of reading the Bible (Miell 1990). This can involve drawing upon the range of psychoanalytic and other psychological approaches, including behavioural or cognitive therapies, and non-therapeutic kinds of psychology, such as experimental and social psychology, not least in the areas where these overlap with social anthropology. It is possible here only to illustrate a small part of this range, and to do so with reference to the prophets.
\nClines and Exum provide a programmatic statement of the potential range of psychological interpretation of the Bible:<\/p>\n
Just as psychoanalytic theory has shown the power of the unconscious in human beings, so literary critics search for the unconscious drives embedded within texts. We can view texts as symptoms of narrative neuroses, treat them as overdetermined, and speak of their repressions, displacements, conflicts and desires. Alternatively, we can uncover the psychology of characters and their relationships within the texts, and ask what it is about the human condition in general that these texts reflect, psychologically speaking. Or we can turn our focus upon empirical readers, and examine the non-cognitive effects that reading our texts have upon them, and construct theoretical models of the nature of the reading process (Clines and Exum 1993: 18; see also the related Select Bibliography on pp. 23\u201324).<\/p>\n
The prophets of the Hebrew Bible do indeed give much scope for such inquiry. Moses, presented as the greatest of the prophets (Deut. 34:10), provided the basis for one of the most famous contributions, namely, that of Freud himself on Moses and Monotheism (Freud 1939). And it is not difficult to read the experience of Elijah (another iconic representative of the prophetic tradition) after his encounter with the prophets of Baal in terms of depression (1 Kgs 19:4). In what follows I shall illustrate some possibilities of psychological reading in relation to selected books named after specific prophets.
\nIt was Paul Ricoeur who developed the now-familiar distinction between \u2018the world behind the text\u2019, \u2018the world of the text\u2019 and \u2018the world before the text\u2019 (Ricoeur 1976, 1980)\u2014a typology taken up by many, including Sandra Schneiders (1999). In this essay, I will use this for its heuristic and exploratory value, and will present my material within such a framework.<\/p>\n
1. The World behind the Text<\/p>\n
There have been many attempts to construct a picture of the psychological life of the prophet Ezekiel. Ezekiel was certainly a strange character. There is indeed much in the book of Ezekiel that demands explanation, whether it is Ezekiel\u2019s sitting \u2018overwhelmed\u2019 among the exiles for seven days (3:15), his perplexing dumbness (3:26\u201327; 24:27; 33:22), his not mourning the death of his wife (ch. 24) or his bizarre \u2018sign actions\u2019 (e.g. 4:4\u20138, where the prophet lies on his left side for three hundred and ninety days and then on his right side for forty days!)\u2014not to mention his famous vision of throne of God, with its \u2018wheels within wheels\u2019 and \u2018their rims full of eyes\u2019 (ch. 1).
\nOne interesting feature of the quest for the historical Ezekiel in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries (reflecting a preoccupation of the times) was the attempt to diagnose Ezekiel\u2019s condition in terms of a psychological illness that might explain his bizarre behaviour. There is a long tradition of attempts to explain some of the unusual features of Ezekiel and his book by reference to his mental state, the descriptions used ranging from mere \u2018eccentricity\u2019 right through to \u2018schizophrenia\u2019. The first clear articulation of such a theory is found in Klostermann (1877), while the classic presentation of the hypothesis is found in Broome (1946), which purports to be a real case-study. The most influential rebuttal of Broome\u2019s developed theory was presented by Howie (1950: 69\u201384). He argued that adequate explanations can be given for each of the odd features of Ezekiel\u2019s reported behaviour, explanations that accommodate him within the (in any case broad) range of the \u2018normal\u2019. For Howie, Ezekiel was a mystic but not a madman. In Germany, Jaspers (1947)\u2014independent of both Broome and Howie\u2014offered a judicious reflection on all these questions, also highlighting some important questions of method. Since the 1950s, the general consensus has been that the theory of Ezekiel\u2019s mental illness was a false trail in interpretation, which was rightly abandoned (Cassem 1973; Carley 1975). It was rather surprising, therefore, that in 1993 Halperin not only revived the hypothesis but deployed it at greater length than ever before. Halperin attempted to use the text of the book of Ezekiel as the basis for nothing less than a thoroughgoing Freudian psychoanalysis of the man Ezekiel, and to give an account of the whole text in these terms. He postulates a person dominated by a pathological dread and loathing of female sexuality. Discussing the problem of why the prophet\u2019s dumbness ends when the news reaches him of the fall of the Jerusalem Temple (Ezek. 24:27; 33:22), Halperin explains this on the basis of the theory that the city and Temple represent the feminine. God, as \u2018tyrannical parent\u2019, has, through the catastrophe of 587 BCE, destroyed these symbols of the feminine, thereby apparently vindicating Ezekiel\u2019s negative feelings towards the feminine and relieving him of the acute guilt feelings that had caused his dumbness. Close attention is given to the vivid, some would say pornographic, presentations of Israel as woman in chs. 16 and 23, and to Ezekiel\u2019s failure to mourn his wife\u2019s death in ch. 24. And a central place is given to the strange episode in Ezek. 8:7\u201312, in which Ezekiel digs through a wall to find portrayed on the wall of a chamber all kinds of creeping things and loathsome animals.
\nThe scant personal details found in this ancient text are an insufficient basis for a project as bold as psychoanalysis. And yet Halperin attempts to paint a very detailed picture of Ezekiel\u2019s inner life, venturing far beyond what, on any showing, the available data could justify (see, further, Joyce 1995). When approaching Ezekiel and his book, it is important to take account of a range of evidence and of methods. This is something Halperin singularly fails to do, taking, as he does, psychological issues in isolation from other important perspectives. Recent years have seen much fruitful application of the insights of sociology in biblical studies; more specifically, a good deal has been learned about the social roles performed by prophets in ancient Israel, and the ways in which they interacted with society as a whole (e.g. Wilson 1980; Petersen 1981). In contrast to this, Halperin\u2019s reading is (in spite of his own disclaimers) a strongly individualizing one, one which takes Ezekiel in isolation from his context. Smith-Christopher writes,<\/p>\n
Halperin mentions the exile two times in his entire book, and then only in passing. Such tendencies to read the psychological state of Ezekiel totally apart from the social and political experiences he suffered are symptoms of the same avoidance in other biblical scholarly analyses of the exile as a real event where human beings deeply suffered\u2019 (Smith-Christopher 2002: 89; cf. 1999).<\/p>\n
Smith-Christopher himself urges attention to the social, economic and traumatic factors, highlighting specifically the theme of Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (cf. Collicutt McGrath 2006; Birnbaum 2008).
\nAnother important area of insight is the influential wealth of literary perspectives in biblical studies. Halperin is, perhaps surprisingly, very \u2018literalistic\u2019 in his treatment of the text, which is used with much confidence as a historical source for Ezekiel\u2019s life, both outer and inner. His study is lacking in any real sense that the book of Ezekiel is a work of literature. However, it is now increasingly recognized that the books of the prophets are by no means straightforward reports by the prophets of their personal experiences. The presentation of Ezekiel must be seen as echoing certain features of the so-called pre-classical prophets of old, such as Elisha (Carley 1975). The images of women must be read in the light of earlier presentations, in Isaiah and especially in Hosea. And the bizarre visions that characterize the book of Ezekiel must be seen in the context of a developing tradition of imagery, which would later play a significant part in shaping the idioms of apocalyptic literature.
\nIt is also vital to take with full seriousness the theological nature of our source material (whether or not one is a religious believer). Halperin is quite frank in rejecting this\u2014for example, the wrath of God is to be interpreted reductionistically as a projection of Ezekiel\u2019s own rage. For someone who claims to be handling the literature on its own terms, as Halperin does, this lack of theological perspective is surely a serious shortcoming. For example, much is made of Ezekiel\u2019s failure to mourn his wife, as recounted in ch. 24. And yet it is vital to see that a theological point is being made in the paralleling of the wife\u2019s death with the fall of the Jerusalem Temple. The latter tragedy is presented as richly deserved by Israel, and the refusal to allow proper mourning is to be seen as compounding the punishment of sin.
\nSo there is much to be said in critique of Halperin\u2019s work. But more nuanced psychological readings of Ezekiel have been offered since, by Garber (2004), Jobling (2004), Schmitt (2004) and Stiebert (2005), and there is positive potential for discriminating reflection about what might be known of the psychological life of those behind the biblical text. However, Halperin\u2019s tendency towards reductionism and a single mode of discourse should be avoided. In presenting a positive vision of psychological interpretation, the present study will emphasize the need always to set this alongside other modes of interpretation.<\/p>\n
2. The World of the Text<\/p>\n
One could explore the prophet Ezekiel entirely as a literary character within the text, rather than as an historical person behind the text. Such a discussion would share some features with Halperin\u2019s enterprise, but would in other respects necessarily be very different. Leaving this issue behind but staying with the book of Ezekiel, it will be of value next to examine some specific examples where a psychological perspective might illumine features of the text itself.
\nEzekiel 18 famously starts with the people citing the proverb \u2018The parents have eaten sour grapes, and the children\u2019s teeth are set on edge\u2019 (18:2), which the prophet then sets about rejecting as a false proverb. In vv. 5\u201318, three cases are presented: those of a righteous man, his wicked son and his righteous grandson. Each test case concludes with a verdict, reached on the basis of the legal principle that had been enunciated in v. 4 (\u2018It is only the person who sins that shall die\u2019). Thus it is said that the righteous man shall live (v. 9), whereas his wicked son shall die, despite his parent\u2019s righteousness (v. 13). These first two cases establish a precedent for the third case, that of the righteous son of a wicked man in vv. 14\u201317, which is crucial because Ezekiel\u2019s audience imagine themselves to be the righteous descendants of wicked ancestors. When the legal principle of v. 4 (\u2018It is only the person who sins that shall die\u2019) is applied to the case of the righteous son of a wicked man, it is clear what the verdict must be: \u2018He shall surely live\u2019 (v. 17). Ezekiel is here asserting that if the present generation were righteous they would not be suffering; but since they are suffering, this must be because of their own sins. Thus Ezekiel\u2019s hearers cannot be the righteous sons of wicked men that they suppose themselves to be.
\nBut then in v. 19 we encounter a surprise, and this brings me to my point. Here in v. 19, Ezekiel\u2019s audience is presented as saying: \u2018Why should not the son suffer for the iniquity of the father?\u2019 They are indeed pictured as demanding that \u2018the son\u2019 should suffer for the iniquity of \u2018the father\u2019. The \u2018sour grapes\u2019 proverb of v. 2 expressed their complaint that they are suffering unjustly for the sins of their ancestors, and yet here in v. 19 the same people are pictured as demanding that \u2018the son\u2019 (with whom they identify themselves) should suffer for the iniquity of \u2018the father\u2019. This is indeed paradoxical and can only be explained on the hypothesis that Ezekiel is suggesting that such a demand is implied by his audience\u2019s position. Though they used the \u2018sour grapes\u2019 proverb to voice their complaint, they also have a vested interest in its validity; for unless it can be established that one generation suffers for the sins of previous generations, they will have to admit that they are to blame for the current situation. They complain about the injustice of events, but would prefer to go on believing in their own explanation for the disaster rather than admit responsibility. Hence the paradoxical plea of v. 19, in which Ezekiel\u2019s hearers are represented as in effect pleading that they be punished\u2014a reductio ad absurdum of their whole position. They would, it seems, prefer that Yahweh be unjust than to admit themselves unjust.
\nPerhaps this paradoxical verse can be further illumined by psychological reflection. The words of Ezekiel\u2019s audience at 18:19 can be read as an expression of a \u2018death wish\u2019. Alternatively, their clinging to a self-contradictory interpretation of their predicament could be said to be a manifest \u2018denial\u2019 of the reality of their situation. Such a phenomenon is well documented in the modern psychoanalysis of individuals. Ezekiel\u2019s strategy is to liberate his audience from a defence mechanism that is ultimately illusory and untenable. And indeed in the remainder of the chapter he succeeds brilliantly in showing a way beyond their impasse.
\nFor a further example from Ezekiel, we turn to ch. 23, where the prophet presents two sisters, Oholah and Oholibah. In v. 31, the \u2018cup\u2019 of judgment, a widespread motif in the Hebrew Bible, is given into the hand of Oholibah (Jerusalem), who is to down the potion of punishment already consumed by Oholah (Samaria) as recompense appropriate to her similar sins. In v. 34, we read \u2018You shall drink it and drain it out\u2019 and \u2018Gnaw its sherds\u2019. Not just drinking and draining but apparently biting into the cup itself! This sounds like obsessive masochistic behaviour; one is reminded of the perverse wish to be punished articulated by Ezekiel\u2019s audience in those paradoxical words of 18:19. Verse 34 continues, \u2018You shall tear out your breasts\u2019, which recalls the use of the motif of the breasts earlier in the chapter in relation to the alleged crimes of the sisters (v. 3). This desperately self-destructive action may fruitfully be read in the light of the now widely documented pathological behaviour of self-harming.
\nOther examples of psychological features within \u2018the world of the text\u2019 may be drawn from the book of Amos. D. Andrew Kille is the author of the Fortress Guide to psychological biblical criticism (Kille 2001) and co-editor of a recent volume on psychological insight into the Bible (Rollins and Kille [eds.] 2007). He brings to these matters the perspectives of Carl Gustav Jung. (Other noteworthy Jungian contributions to our general theme are found in Lieb 1989, a Jungian reading of Ezekiel\u2019s opening vision, and Edinger 2000, a Jungian treatment of the prophetic corpus as a whole.) Kille has presented a reading of the \u2018Day of the Lord\u2019 in Amos from a Jungian point of view (Kille 2004). This valuable essay is one of many in a four-volume collection that reflects the fruit of many sessions of the Psychology and Biblical Studies section of the Society of Biblical Literature (Ellens and Rollins [eds.] 2004). Kille focuses here on Amos 5:18\u201320, \u2018Alas for you who desire the day of the Lord! Why do you want the day of the Lord? It is darkness, not light \u2026\u2019, and he relates this to material in 6:3: \u2018\u2026 O you that put far away the evil day, and bring near a reign of violence\u2019. Kille highlights the delusional desiring of the \u2018Day of the Lord\u2019 in 5:18\u201320 and focuses on the defensive putting off of \u2018the evil day\u2019 in 6:3. Kille interprets both of these as a refusal to deal with the reality of the present:<\/p>\n
Acknowledgement of injustice and the recognition of God\u2019s presence are put off to an indeterminate future, and thus the possibility of responsible action in the present is diminished. Psychologists recognize several human mechanisms for denying or putting off present reality, including repression and projection. An individual or group unwilling to acknowledge negative, unacceptable and destructive tendencies in themselves \u2026 ignores or denies them (repression) and\/or attributes those qualities elsewhere\u2014that is, projects them onto another person, group or event, such as the Day of the LORD or the evil day (Kille 2004: 273 [original emphasis]).<\/p>\n
Kille is also helpful when reflecting on method. \u2018Does all of this suggest that Amos was an eighth-century analytical psychologist?\u2019, he writes. \u2018By no means. The human experience that we today observe and describe in psychological language, Amos described in prophetic language\u2019 (Kille 2004: 274). It is helpful here to draw on the distinction made by social anthropologists between \u2018emic\u2019 and \u2018etic\u2019 discourse. By the former is meant the language used by participants and by the latter the language used by observers. Such a distinction will hopefully preserve us from some confusion. In this context, prophetic language would be \u2018emic\u2019 and psychological discourse would be \u2018etic\u2019\u2014one does not have to claim that the ancients understood matters in a modern way in order to gain legitimate insight into what may have been going on in earlier times.
\nHowever, there may be more than mere disjunction between prophetic and psychological discourses. As H. Wheeler Robinson wrote, \u2018As Hebrew myth and legend often enshrine permanent truths about God, so the Hebrew ideas about man seem to have anticipated by intuition some of our modern science\u2019 (Robinson 1925: 382). In this connection it is interesting to reflect that, though he chose to name a range of psychological phenomena in terms borrowed from Greek myth, Freud was himself a Jew influenced by the Hebrew Bible.
\nAnother methodological observation may be made here, namely, to highlight the value in this context of Troeltsch\u2019s \u2018Principle of Analogy\u2019, which he employed to express the dialectic between difference and continuity between historical eras (Troeltsch 1922). He spoke of a commonality of human experience through time, in spite of massive cultural differences, as the necessary presupposition of the historian\u2019s art of sympathetic intuition. For him, understanding of the past presupposed at least some analogy with the present.
\nThe work of Robert Carroll drew upon psychological insight, and in particular on \u2018cognitive dissonance\u2019 theory (Carroll 1977), which had first been developed by Leon Festinger (1957). This theory seeks to describe how individuals and communities deal with the conflicts that might arise between the image constructed of self or the world, and the actual reality of external circumstances. When such conflicts arise, the person or group seeks to minimize them or avoid them through a variety of strategies or defence mechanisms, including (in Robert Carroll\u2019s words) \u2018behaviour changes, changes of cognition, and circumspect exposure to new information and new opinions\u2019 (Carroll 1979: 89). In When Prophecy Failed, Carroll applied cognitive dissonance theory specifically to the issue of the apparent failure of prophetic predictions, such as within the traditions of Isaiah or Haggai-Zechariah (Carroll 1979: 130\u201383). One of the strategies for coping with disappointment, Carroll writes, \u2018may take the form of modifications of the offending cognitions or interpretative shifts in the subject\u2019s cognitions\u2019 (Carroll 1979: 96). In short, where there is experienced dissonance (e.g. disappointment over predictions), individuals and communities may reinterpret authorities (e.g. prophetic texts) in such a way as to lessen the dissonance.
\nKille draws upon Carroll\u2019s work on cognitive dissonance when he finds traces of this process in the editorial placement of Amos 5:18\u201320 within the book of Amos\u2014the editors place it, he argues, in the context of Amos\u2019s condemnation of cultic worship in vv. 21\u201323, to limit the reference to the \u2018Day of the Lord\u2019 to a religious context rather than a social one, as part of a strategy for reshaping the prophetic oracles to lessen the conflict with the redactors\u2019 own views of the world (Kille 2004: 275\u201376). Whether or not one agrees with Kille\u2019s particular interpretation, this is a good example of his distinctive integration of psychological interpretation with more \u2018mainstream\u2019 methods, such as redaction criticism. This combination of a specialist knowledge of psychology with a formal training in historical-critical biblical studies is alas all too rare among those who work in the psychological interpretation of the Bible, which highlights a deficiency seen in many of the other contributions to the four-volume collection on psychology and the Bible edited by Ellens and Rollins, which tend on the whole (with notable exceptions\u2014another being Jobling 2004) to reflect more pastoral and clinical specialism than expertise in biblical criticism. One problematic example would be that of Dan Merkur (2004), who reviews the prophecies of Jeremiah through a psychoanalytic lens. His essay repays close reading, but I refer to it here primarily to make some critical points. Merkur finds much psychological plausibility in what he finds in the book of Jeremiah, and goes on to claim that \u2018because no one writing prior to Freud can have known what to counterfeit in order to deceive a modern psychoanalytical reader, the possibility of fraud is eliminated\u2019 (2004: 142). He declares that \u2018despite the skepticism of modern critics the authenticity of Jeremiah\u2019s prophecies is not in doubt\u2019 (p. 142). But this is unpersuasive, for psychological plausibility does not guarantee the primacy of prophetic material. There seems to be here something rather uncritical, even na\u00efve, about Merkur\u2019s approach. It is as though we were back in the days of Skinner in the 1920s, with an unjustified confidence about access to the inner life of the prophet Jeremiah (cf. Skinner 1922).
\nA final example of the need for more dialogue between psychological interpretation and so-called mainstream biblical criticism may be cited. Alice Miller (1991) wrote an important essay on \u2018The Mistreated Child in the Lamentations of Jeremiah\u2019. This is a brilliant integration of psychology with the reading of a biblical text, but throughout Miller assumes Jeremianic authorship of Lamentations, apparently unaware that this has ever been contested.<\/p>\n
3. The World before the Text<\/p>\n
We have considered \u2018the world behind the text\u2019 and \u2018the world of the text\u2019. Now we turn to \u2018the world before the text\u2019, that is, to ourselves as readers of the prophetic books. As noted earlier, Exum and Clines, reviewing the many things that can be done with a text in psychological terms, wrote \u2018\u2026 or we can turn our focus upon empirical readers, and examine the non-cognitive effects that reading our texts have upon them, and construct theoretical models of the nature of the reading process\u2019 (Clines and Exum 1993: 18).
\nMost of those active in historical criticism of the Bible were brought up on an objectifying paradigm within which the detachment of the reader and the definition of the text as \u2018other\u2019, historically located, were emphasized. But as readers we are also subjects, real human beings. Taking this seriously can pose quite a challenge to many within the historical-critical guild. Each of us in fact experiences a text in his or her own way. As readers we bring much to the task of interpretation, though paradoxically the more we can understand about who it is that is doing the reading the freer we shall be in relation to our own biases.
\nThere has been much work over recent times exploring the difference between personality types, much of it springing from Jung\u2019s personality typing. Examples include the Myers-Briggs Personality Test and the Enneagram. Among the polar distinctions made between personality traits on the Myers-Briggs Personality Test is that between \u2018perceivers\u2019 and \u2018judgers\u2019. \u2018Perceivers\u2019 tend to be those who are always aware of possibilities and issues and are typically inclined to negotiate towards truth consensually. \u2018Judgers\u2019 prefer clear-cut distinctions and clarity in discrimination. The historical-critical tradition of biblical studies (which has contributed massively to our understanding of the Bible over the past few centuries) has been shaped almost exclusively by \u2018judgers\u2019. However, it seems to me that biblical studies has been sadly impoverished by a failure to engage with the \u2018perceiving\u2019 side of human nature. There is much to be gained by correcting this deficiency, so that more exploratory and heuristic modes of reading can contribute more. My own primary orientation is to be a \u2018perceiver\u2019 and it was a real breakthrough for me when I first realized that this was one reason why a certain amount of the historical-critical approach, and especially its tendency to attempt to nail down a univocal meaning even within a poetic text, seemed alien to me. However, in line with Jung\u2019s insights, we can all develop additional aspects of our personality and I have learned to adopt a \u2018judging\u2019 mode in interpretation, albeit aware that I am often acting on my \u2018shadow side\u2019 (in Jung\u2019s phrase) when functioning as an historical critic.
\nThe personality differences between us as interpreters are instructive and can be illustrated briefly by an encounter between two distinguished former presidents of the Society for Old Testament Study, David Clines and Wilfred Lambert. The encounter went something like this: Professor Lambert had been instructing the Society on a fine point of Mesopotamian usage, and declared \u2018You can\u2019t be too careful!\u2019 Professor Clines retorted characteristically, \u2018Oh yes you can!\u2019 Well, which are you? A David or a Wilfred, a Lambert or a Clines?<\/p>\n
4. Issues of Method<\/p>\n
Some issues of method have been broached already in this essay. But others should be highlighted, albeit briefly. I opened a 1993 article on reading the book of Lamentations in the light of pastoral psychology with the words, \u2018The field of biblical studies is littered with cases of scholars who caught up late in the day with insights from various secular disciplines, and then, understanding them only partially, proceeded to apply these insights confidently to the study of the Bible\u2019 (Joyce 1993: 304; an extensive discussion of methodological issues is found there on pp. 314\u201320). It is, then, in a self-critical spirit that one should approach any such interdisciplinary enterprise.
\nThe work of both Freud and Jung is, of course, in many respects long-superseded, or rather transcended, in psychoanalytical circles. They must not be regarded as absolute authorities. While their theories were, in part, empirically based and have been very influential, their work and then in turn that of their successors has been subject to criticism and revision; and their contributions must all be regarded as provisional. It is important that one does not make biblical studies dependent on work that is outmoded within its own discipline; but on the other hand, we should avoid simply chasing the latest trend in psychoanalysis, or any other branch of psychology, in the hope that it will prove definitive\u2014a pursuit doomed to failure.
\nOne is acutely aware of one\u2019s own ignorance when encountering another discipline. And yet, if bridges are to be built and insights gained, we must individually and collectively be ready to risk the vulnerability involved in interdisciplinary work. One has heard many colleagues, in various subjects, say of anything outside a tiny territory \u2018that is beyond my competence\u2019. But while genuine specialist expertise is to be treasured, we should not be over-cautious at its margins\u2014or we shall all be impoverished.
\nWithin interdisciplinary work, much is to be gained from close collaboration, indeed co-authorship, involving real specialists. There is a trade-off to be negotiated here\u2014between integration within oneself and collaboration with another. But it is worth observing how reluctant scholars in biblical studies often are to collaborate. In contrast, many of us have distinguished colleagues in Science or Mathematics who have never published a single book or even an article under their solo names. This indeed provides another example of the way in which we should become self-aware of how we tend to be as critics, corporately as well as individually.
\nA final caveat may be entered here: in drawing upon the insights of psychology, one should be aware of the danger of theory-led observation\u2014in other words, finding what one is looking for and making it fit. If excessively stringent tests of falsifiability are inappropriate here, nonetheless it is important to ask oneself what would count against the value or legitimacy of a particular reading. Work that gives the impression that anything goes can only bring psychological interpretation into disrepute.<\/p>\n
5. Psychological Interpretation and So-Called Mainstream Biblical Study<\/p>\n
It often seems as though psychological insights are at best marginal in a good deal of biblical study. There have been notable exceptions, both within the biblical studies guild (e.g. Robinson 1925; Lindblom 1962: 105; Kaiser 1975) and also around it (e.g. Weber 1967; Povah 1925), but all too often psychological approaches in biblical studies seem to be disparaged as a recent trendy development. However, two things should be remembered. One is that, though we may think of this as in many respects a relatively new development, it is important to acknowledge features shared with commentators earlier in the history of interpretation, including Augustine and Ignatius Loyola, for whom psychological insights, albeit differently expressed, certainly had an important place. Secondly, modern historical criticism of the Bible flourished in the very age in which Freud was doing his groundbreaking work. Freud (1856\u20131939) published seminal studies on the unconscious mind in 1900 and 1901, while Hermann Gunkel (1862\u20131932), the father of biblical Form Criticism, published his Genesis commentary in 1901. And these developments happened in the same geographical and cultural context, namely, that of German-speaking central Europe. It is striking how many shared features these two enterprises have. For example, both speak of aetiology when addressing questions of origins and causation. And both apply a \u2018hermeneutic of suspicion\u2019\u2014the psychoanalyst looks for the real meaning of a slip of the tongue, while the biblical critic presses inconsistency or repetition for their deeper significance. The historical-critical method will posit multiple authors from different periods (such as J, E, D and P in the Pentateuch) and so attempts to reconstruct the \u2018real story\u2019 behind the biblical text, a history of the ideas and institutions of ancient Israel. This finds its parallel in the psychoanalyst\u2019s determination to find the \u2018real story\u2019 below the surface of the narrative presented by the client. In many respects, these are two remarkably similar modernist enterprises.
\nPsychology is indeed commonly perceived as a typically \u2018modernist\u2019 enterprise. Psychologists since Freud have, it is often said, worked with a grand \u2018metanarrative\u2019. However, postmodernism is often characterized by the abandonment of all \u2018metanarratives\u2019, so might one expect less influence from psychology in a so-called postmodern age? In fact, psychology has by no means stood still over recent decades, and it has not been immune from the influences of postmodernism. There is in fact a lively interaction between psychology and biblical studies in the postmodern context. It is interesting to note that in the influential volume The Postmodern Bible there is a chapter on psychoanalytic criticism (Bible and Culture Collective 1995: 187\u2013224). Elsewhere, Barton highlights and reflects upon the contemporary phenomenon of readers, working in a psychoanalytic mode, who would argue for hidden meanings of which the authors were themselves unaware (Barton 2007: 80\u201381). Psychoanalytic criticism, especially the kind that builds on Lacan, reads texts \u2018not so much for the main point \u2026 as for what reveals itself unintentionally through slips of the tongue or pen, subtle evasions, audible silences, logical digressions and other \u201caccidents\u201d of expression\u2019 (Bible and Culture Collective 1995: 199).
\nThis essay has attempted to give just a taste of the some of the many ways in which psychological factors may operate at various levels in a biblical text\u2014for example, in the experience of the biblical writer, or the redactor, or in ways that had long informed literary conventions upon which the biblical writer drew. And all of this long before the personality dispositions of any particular reader of the text come in to play. In conclusion, I contend that psychological insights are really not so newfangled or so detached from much that is generally taken as familiar and valuable in biblical criticism. If we approach such insights with an open mind and yet also a critical spirit (critical of others, but also critical of ourselves) we have potentially much to gain in our reading of the prophets.<\/p>\n
THE SIGN OF IMMANUEL<\/p>\n
John J. Collins<\/p>\n
It has been claimed, plausibly, that more has been written about Isa. 7:14 than about any other biblical verse (Kilian 1968; Wildberger 1991). I am not aware of new evidence that might shed new light on the subject, but so it is with many crucial biblical passages. In view of the pivotal role this passage plays in the presentation of Jesus as Son of God in the Gospel of Matthew, it behoves anyone with an interest in messianism or Christology to try to sort out its original intention and early interpretation. Specifically, there are four issues that I want to address: (1) the historical and literary context in which the passage should be read; (2) whether the offering of the sign should be viewed as reassurance or as threat; (3) the nature and identity of the child, which is an issue bound up with the preceding one, meaning that the discussion of the two issues will be interwoven. Finally, I will discuss (4) the messianic interpretation that prevailed in traditional Christianity and still prevails in some quarters.<\/p>\n
1. The Historical and Literary Context<\/p>\n
The study of prophetic literature in recent decades has moved away from the quest for the ipsissima verba of the prophets, and towards the redaction, if not the final form of the books that bear their names (Petersen 2002; Sweeney 2005; on the redactional turn in scholarship on Isaiah, see Wegner 1992: 13\u201362; Williamson 1994: 1\u201318; Tate 1996; Barthel 1997: 1\u201324; Childs 2001: 1\u20135). In the case of Isaiah 7, older scholarship tended to accept that the authenticity of the passage, as a record of Isaiah\u2019s activity, was established by Budde\u2019s theory of a Denkschrift (Budde 1928), comprising Isa. 6:1\u20139:6 (ET 7) or 6:1\u20138:18. This theory has been questioned, however, in recent years (Dietrich 1976; Kaiser 1983; Reventlow 1987; Irvine 1992; Williamson 1998a; 1998b; cf. Wagner 2006: 18\u201341). Unlike chs. 6 and 8, ch. 7 is presented in the third person, and suggestions that the third-person passages should be emended have the air of special pleading. Moreover, Isa. 7:1 corresponds closely to 2 Kgs 16:5, and several points of contact have been noted between this chapter and the narrative about Hezekiah in chs. 36\u201339. The conduit of the upper pool, on the highway to the Fuller\u2019s Field, is also the setting for speech of the Rabshakeh in Isa. 36:2 (Sweeney 1996: 151). In both stories, the king is reduced to near panic, and Isaiah tells him not to fear, and offers a sign (Williamson 1998a: 248). These correspondences invite a comparison, or rather a contrast between the two kings, Ahaz and Hezekiah. Since Isaiah 36\u201339 appears to be derived from 2 Kings, the correspondences raise a question about the provenance of the story in Isaiah 7.
\nIn the light of these observations, the unity of the so-called Denkschrift becomes problematic, and some allowance must be made for redactional activity. Stuart Irvine declares that \u2018Isaiah 7 forms a single unit, clearly separate from the vision report in chapter 6 and the prophetic memoir in Isaiah 8\u2019 (Irvine 1990: 133). Williamson suggests that the third-person account in ch. 7, which focuses on the king, was inserted into the first-person material in chs. 6 and 8, which are rather concerned with the fate of the people (Williamson 1998a: 250; 1998b: 99; compare Barthel 1997: 62\u201363). Yet there are close thematic associations between chs. 7 and 8, and there is reason to believe that some form of ch. 7 is presupposed in ch. 8.
\nIsaiah 8:16\u201318 would seem to be the end of a unit: \u2018Bind up the testimony, seal the teaching among my disciples. I will wait for the Lord, who is hiding his face from the house of Jacob, and I will hope in him. See, I and the children whom the Lord has given me are signs and portents in Israel from the Lord of hosts, who dwells in Mount Zion\u2019 (Barthel 1997: 60). Wildberger declares that \u2018there has never been any question that vv. 16\u201318 come from Isaiah\u2019 (Wildberger 1991: 365). Kaiser affirms that \u2018these verses were originally the culmination and end of the memorial\u2019, which he regards as a post-exilic composition, transposed fictitiously to the time of Isaiah (Kaiser 1983: 195). Paul Wegner is uncertain whether 7:16\u201318 \u2018provide a conclusion merely to the preceding oracle or were intended to conclude the whole \u201cIsaianic memoir\u201d \u2019 (Wegner 1992: 72). And yet, v. 18 presupposes mention of more than one child of Isaiah. If we bracket for the moment the identity of Immanuel, the reference is presumably to Shear-jashub as well as Maher-shalalhash-baz. Moreover, Isa. 8:8, 10 refers back to Immanuel. This reference implies that Immanuel has already been born, and so reflects a later point in time than 7:14. It seems to me, then, that Isa. 8:1\u201318 presupposes some form of the narrative in ch. 7. There is then something to be said for at least a modified form of the Denkschrift, including some form of 7:1\u20138:18, although ch. 7 must have subsequently undergone some modification (compare Barthel 1997: 61). As Ronald Clements has argued, \u2018it is much easier to understand why the form of such a memoir should have become distorted and partially obliterated in the course of subsequent editing, than that, as a construction of later editors, it should have been employed only in a very clumsy and limited fashion\u2019 (Clements 1996: 67). I think it likely that the first-person account in ch. 6 was also part of the original memoir, but that question lies outside the bounds of my present inquiry.
\nWithin 7:1\u20138:18 it is necessary to distinguish at least two layers. Marvin Sweeney distinguishes between the \u2018Isaianic\u2019 core and a redaction, which he labels \u2018Josianic\u2019. Sweeney notes: \u2018although the present form of 7:1\u201325 is the product of the Josianic redaction that produced the final form of chs. 5\u201312, the underlying form of the passage in 7:2\u20139:6 (RSV 7) stems from the prophet who produced this text in the aftermath of Ahaz\u2019s submission to Assyria in the Syro-Ephraimite war\u2019 (Sweeney 1996: 150). While any reconstruction of the literary history is necessarily speculative, it seems clear enough that the present form of the chapter is later than the time of Isaiah, and is related to the composition of Isaiah 36\u201339. Whether the redaction was necessarily Josianic might be disputed. It is possible that the original narrative of Kings found its culmination in the reign of Hezekiah (Weippert 1972: 301\u201339; Provan 1988; Halpern and Vanderhooft 1991: 179\u2013244), and some scholars have argued for redaction in the wake of Sennacherib\u2019s invasion in 701 BCE (Barthel 1997: 55, 64, 153). At the same time, it is difficult to believe that the story of an encounter between the prophet and Ahaz, and the oracle about the birth of the child, does not have an historical basis in the time of Isaiah (Steck 1972: 188\u2013206; Nielsen 1986: 1\u201316; H\u00f8genhaven 1988: 77\u201380; Wegner 1992: 70 n. 14). If the whole story had been composed de novo to provide a contrast with Hezekiah, we should expect that it would be simpler and be less ambiguous as to the meaning of the prophecy.
\nThe oracular speech is more likely to derive from the prophet than the narrative in which it is set. The series of utterances beginning with the phrase \u2018on that day\u2019 in 7:18 is very widely regarded as redactional (Blenkinsopp 2000: 35). Sweeney (1996: 150\u201355) attributes vv. 1, 3\u20134, 10 and 17, as well as vv. 18\u201325, to his \u2018Josianic redaction\u2019. But while suspicion reasonably falls on vv. 1 and 3, because of the parallels in Kings and Isaiah 36, the reassurance oracle in v. 4, \u2018do not fear\u2019, has good parallels in the Assyrian period, and is appropriate to the context (Wildberger 1991: 290; Wagner 2006: 130\u201335). Verse 10 is merely a connecting verse: \u2018Again the Lord spoke to Ahaz, saying\u2019. Verse 17 includes an obvious gloss in the phrase \u2018the king of Assyria\u2019, but the remainder of the verse is ambiguous, and not necessarily secondary.
\nIsaiah 8:1\u20134 provides a parallel to the Immanuel prophecy. The following passage, 8:5\u20138, is written from the perspective of a slightly later time. Even within the core Denkschrift there is a shift in perspectives, relating to different moments in Isaiah\u2019s relationship with Ahaz. Presumably some time elapsed between the events and the composition of the memoir. It seems to me simplest to suppose that Isaiah himself gave the order to \u2018bind up the testimony\u2019 in 8:16. Alternatively, we should have to suppose that one of his disciples spoke in his name. While there is some later editing, whether Josianic or not, the basic story of Isaiah and his signs is more likely to have originated in the Assyrian period than at a later time \u2018in the shade of Deuteronomistic theology\u2019, as Kaiser (1983: 114\u201315) supposes.
\nIf these remarks are on the right track, then we must at least take Isa. 8:1\u201318 into account in interpreting Isaiah 7. Many scholars have argued that the core of the memoir is structured by the three signs, each associated with a child: first Shear-jashub, then Immanuel, and finally Mahershalal-hash-baz (Steck 1973a; 1973b; overview by Wegner 1992: 80\u201386). So, for example, Ronald Clements writes:<\/p>\n
It is noteworthy, and decisively significant, that the pattern of an ambiguous sign-bearing name, followed by an interpretation which is quite unambiguous as to its intent, is found with all three of the Isaianic sign-names; Shear-jashub (7:3) is interpreted in 7:7\u20139; Immanuel is interpreted in 7:15\u201317; and Maher-shalal-hashbaz is interpreted in 8:4. (Clements 1996: 68)<\/p>\n
The pattern is not quite as clear as Clements claims (Wegner 1992: 84\u201385). Isaiah 7:7\u20139 are not presented as the interpretation of Shear-jashub, and in the case of Immanuel the interpretation is not free of ambiguity. Nonetheless, the signs associated with Isaiah\u2019s children provide a literary context that must be taken into account in any attempt to interpret the sign of Immanuel.<\/p>\n
2. An Oracle of Reassurance<\/p>\n
According to the text as we have it, Isaiah\u2019s initial message to Ahaz was one of reassurance: take heed, be quiet and do not fear. This seems entirely plausible in the context of the Syro-Ephraimite war. The oracle in vv. 7 and 8 (\u2018for the head of Aram is Damascus \u2026\u2019) confirms this message. If we exclude the reference to 65 years as a gloss, the point is that Rezin and the son of Remaliah are mere mortals, and nothing for Ahaz to be afraid of. (If the reference to 65 years is correct, it must be a gloss, added in confirmation of the eventual demise of Ephraim, but in fact Samaria was destroyed a mere 12 years after this incident; cf. Wildberger 1991: 301\u2013302.) The conclusion of this oracle\u2014\u2018If you do not stand firm in faith, you shall not be made firm\u2019\u2014implies a qualification of the Davidic covenant that is highly significant for the understanding of the history of the monarchy in ancient Judah.
\nThere are in the Bible different understandings of the nature of the promise to David (Schniedewind 1999). 2 Samuel 7 is very emphatic that while the king is subject to punishment for his offences: \u2018I will not take my steadfast love from him, as I took it from Saul \u2026 Your house and your kingdom shall be made sure (\u05e0\u05d0\u05de\u05df) forever before me; your throne shall be established forever\u2019 (vv. 15\u201316). In contrast, Solomon\u2019s prayer in 1 Kgs 8:25 formulates the promise as follows: \u2018There shall never fail you a successor before me to sit on the throne of Israel, if only your children look to their way, to walk before me as you have walked before me\u2019. The conditional view of the covenant is also found in Psalm 132. I would argue that the unconditional view of the promise found in 2 Samuel 7 represents the older tradition. The use of the root \u05d0\u05de\u05df in Isa. 7:9b may be a direct allusion to the tradition underlying 2 Samuel 7 (W\u00fcrthwein 1970: 127\u201343). But while the apparently conditional character of the covenant here might seem, prima facie, to lend some credence to Kaiser\u2019s view that Isaiah 7 is influenced by Deuteronomistic theology (Kaiser 1983: 114), we should note that what is required of Ahaz here is not observance of laws and ordinances in Deuteronomistic fashion, but faith in the promise. It is not clear exactly what is meant by the statement \u2018you shall not be made firm\u2019. It would seem to undermine the \u2018sure house\u2019 that had been promised to David, but it is not necessarily tantamount to saying \u2018you shall be cut off\u2019. Since the verbs are in the plural, they are presumably addressed to the house of David, not just to Ahaz (Williamson 1998a: 251).
\nIt is important to note, however, that Isaiah\u2019s statement, \u2018if you do not stand firm in faith, you shall not be made firm\u2019, functions here as a challenge rather than as a judgment. It supplements and reinforces the call to take heed, be quiet and fear not in v. 4 (H\u00f8genhaven 1988: 85). At this point in the narrative, Ahaz can still respond by believing.
\nThe prophecy of the birth of a child must also, in the natural order of things, be a sign of hope. In the words of Erling Hammershaimb, \u2018the prophecy to King Ahaz of the birth of a son, in this situation so critical for his dynasty, cannot \u2026 possibly mean anything else but encouragement\u2019 (Hammershaimb 1966: 20). Even though times are difficult for the present, life will go on, and God is with us. The name Immanuel also brings to mind the promise to David. In 2 Sam. 7:9, the Lord tells David that he has been with him wherever he went. In Ps. 89:22 (ET 21) he says of David \u2018my hand shall always remain with him\u2019, and three verses later \u2018my faithfulness and steadfast love shall be with him\u2019. The Zion theology expressed in Ps. 46:8 (ET 7) professes that \u2018the Lord of hosts is with us, the God of Jacob is our refuge\u2019. According to Mic. 3:11, the rulers of Judah say, \u2018Surely the Lord is with us!\u2019 In 1 Kgs 11:38 the prophet Ahijah tells Jeroboam that if he walks in the way of the Lord, \u2018keeping my statutes and my commandments as my servant David did, I will be with you, and I will build you an enduring house, as I built for David\u2019 (Wildberger 1991: 311). The Hebrew translated \u2018an enduring house\u2019 is \u05d1\u05d9\u05ea \u05e0\u05d0\u05de\u05df, echoing the promise to David in 2 Sam. 7:16: \u05d5\u05de\u05de\u05dc\u05db\u05ea\u05da \u05e2\u05d3 \u05e2\u05d5\u05dc\u05dd \u05e0\u05d0\u05de\u05df \u05d1\u05d9\u05ea\u05da (\u2018your house and your kingdom is made firm forever\u2019). The same root is used in Ps. 89:29 (ET 28) (\u2018my covenant is firm for him\u2019) and in and Ps. 132:11 (\u2018the Lord swore to David a sure oath\u2019, \u05d0\u05de\u05ea). The exhortation of Isaiah, \u05d0\u05dd \u05dc\u05d0 \u05ea\u05d0\u05de\u05d9\u05e0\u05d5 \u05db\u05d9 \u05dc\u05d0 \u05ea\u05d0\u05de\u05e0\u05d5 (\u2018if you are not firm in faith you will not be made firm\u2019), is playing on the same root (W\u00fcrthwein 1970; cf. Barthel 1997: 141; Wagner 2006: 165).
\nIn the light of these echoes of the royal ideology, it seems most natural to assume that the child is the king\u2019s son (so also Barthel 1997: 145, 174\u201375). It is sometimes argued on the basis of Ugaritic parallels that the \u05e2\u05dc\u05de\u05d4 is the bride of the king (H\u00f8genhaven 1988: 89\u201390; cf. Mowinckel 1956: 114). This is not necessarily so in Hebrew usage, but it is nonetheless likely from the context (so also Barthel 1997: 175). It is not unusual that the mother should name the child, but perhaps somewhat surprising in the case of a royal child. The consonantal MT text (\u05e7\u05e8\u05d0\u05ea), however, could be pointed as second person masculine, to read \u2018you will call\u2019. The LXX unambiguously reads \u2018you will call\u2019 (\u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03ad\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2). The Isaiah Scroll from Qumran, 1QIsaa, has the masculine \u05e7\u05e8\u05d0 (possibly to be read as an imperative) instead of \u05e7\u05e8\u05d0\u05ea.
\nSeveral scholars have argued that Immanuel is the prophet\u2019s son by pointing to Isa. 8:18: \u2018See, I and the children whom the Lord has given me are signs and portents in Israel from the Lord of hosts, who dwells on Mt. Zion\u2019 (Stamm 1943; 1960; Clements 1996: 71; Roberts 1985). There are three sign-bearing children in chs. 7 and 8: Shear-jashub, Immanuel and Maher-shalal-hash-baz. Ronald Clements infers, rightly, that Isa. 9:1\u20136 (ET 2\u20137) was not part of the Denkschrift. Then \u2018once the sequence of three sign-names belonging to the children is viewed in isolation from the accession prophecy of 9:1\u20136, we can see that, just as all three of the names bear a closely similar message content, so were all three children offspring of the prophet\u2019 (Clements 1996: 70). But this does not necessarily follow. While the other two children are explicitly acknowledged by the prophet as his sons, Immanuel is not. And while the prophecy attached to Maher-shalal-hash-baz is essentially the same as that attached to Immanuel, the very fact that the prophet begat Mahershalal-hash-baz at this time argues against the view that he was also the father of Immanuel (so also Wildberger 1991: 309). Neither of the other sons carries any associations with Davidic tradition.
\nThere is nothing miraculous about the birth of Immanuel (pace Gressmann 1929: 238). The fact that his mother is called an \u05e2\u05dc\u05de\u05d4 has been taken to mean that this was her first child (Wegner 1992: 106\u201315). Jewish tradition identified the child as Hezekiah (Rehm 1968: 83\u201384; Laato 1988: 139\u201344; 1997: 123\u201325; cf. Justin, Dialogue with Trypho 43; Exodus Rabbah 18.5). There are notorious chronological problems with this identification. According to 2 Kgs 18:10, the fall of Samaria (722\/721 BCE) was in the sixth year of Hezekiah, but according to v. 13 in the same chapter, the campaign of Sennacherib in 701 BCE was in his 14th year (Miller and Hayes 1986: 350\u201351). Accordingly, his date of accession is variously given as 728\/27 or 715 BCE. In 2 Kgs 18:1 we are told that he was 25 years old when he came to the throne, and if this is correct he would have been born too early on either date of accession. But the chronology is confused. Blenkinsopp says that \u2018a conclusion cannot be reached on chronological grounds alone either permitting or excluding identification of Immanuel with Hezekiah\u2019, but thinks that the identification is clearly implied in Isa. 8:8, 10, which refer to Judah as \u2018your land, O Immanuel\u2019 (Blenkinsopp 2000: 234). Moreover, 2 Kgs 18:7 says of Hezekiah, \u2018the Lord was with him\u2019. Nonetheless, the chronology is a problem. But the king may have had more than one wife, and so the identification with Hezekiah is not a necessary one. We are not told that Immanuel would become king. Rather, the significance of his birth is as a marker, \u2018for before the child knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good, the land before whose two kings you are in dread will be deserted\u2019 (Dietrich 1976: 219\u201320; Wagner 2006: 163). This prediction is almost exactly the same as the one attached to Maher-shalal-hash-baz: \u2018for before the child knows how to call \u201cmy father\u201d or \u201cmy mother\u201d, the wealth of Damascus and the spoil of Samaria will be carried away by the king of Assyria\u2019. This is clearly good news for Ahaz: God is with us to protect us, by bringing about the destruction of the two lands that are attacking us, within a short period of time.
\nThe significance of eating curds and honey has been widely debated (Rehm 1968: 66\u201373). Gressmann argued that this was the food of the gods, and appropriate food for the messiah in the end-time (Gressmann 1929: 241; cf. Wildberger 1991: 314; Laato 1988: 151). Wildberger cites a hymn of Lipit-Ishtar, who says of himself: \u2018the man of the field, who there (in the land of Sumer) is able to pile high the heaps of grain, the shepherd who increases the fat and milk given in the pen, who permits fish and birds to grow in the swamp, who brings in an overflowing steady stream of water in the aqueducts, who increases the abundant yield in the great mountains, that is me\u2019 (Wildberger 1991: 314). Wildberger infers that \u2018the sentence provides a reinterpretation of the Immanuel prediction. It wants to make the point that, with Immanuel, a ruler is coming who will be equipped with astonishing powers because, already during his youth, he will be fed with food which was out of the ordinary\u2019. \u2018For this reason\u2019, writes Wildberger, \u2018the sentence is located at the beginning of the interpretation of the passage along messianic-eschatological lines and is to be considered the work of a redactor\u2019 (Wildberger 1991: 315; cf. Barthel 1997: 142; Wagner 2006: 73). In the Sibylline Oracles, which are influenced by Greek traditions, milk and honey are among the \u2018excellent, unlimited fruit\u2019 that \u2018the all-bearing earth\u2019 will provide for humanity in the eschatological age (Sib. Or. 3.744\u201349; cf. Sib. Or. 5.282\u201383; see Rehm 1968: 71). Even without appeal to mythological traditions, milk and honey had very positive associations in biblical tradition (Exod. 3:8, 17; 33:3; Deut. 6:3; 9:9; 26:15; 32:13\u201314; see Rehm 1968: 66\u201373). Roberts claims that the curds and honey are \u2018the richest foods appropriate to his age\u2019 (Roberts 1985: 199; cf. Sweeney 1996: 162; Irvine 1990: 170\u201371). Yet in Isa. 7:21\u201325 we are given a very different explanation of the curds and honey:<\/p>\n
On that day one will keep alive a young cow and two sheep and will eat curds because of the abundance of milk that they give; for everyone that is left in the land will eat curds and honey. On that day every place where there used to be a thousand vines, worth a thousand shekels of silver, will become briers and thorns. With bow and arrows one will go there, for all the land will be briers and thorns, and as for all the hills that used to be hoed with a hoe, you will not go there for fear of briers and thorns; but they will become a place where cattle are let loose and where sheep tread.<\/p>\n
This latter passage is most probably the work of a redactor (Sweeney 1996: 162), but it reflects an early interpretation of the passage about curds and honey: the reason Immanuel would eat them is that there would be no cultivation. As J. J. Stamm observed, in the Hebrew Bible milk and honey are nothing but the produce of the uncultivated land (Stamm 1960: 447; cf. Dietrich 1976: 76; Laato 1988: 134; Wildberger 1991: 314). We may compare the sign given by Isaiah in the time of Sennacherib in Isa. 37:30:<\/p>\n
This year eat what grows of itself, and in the second year what springs from that, then in the third year sow, reap, plant vineyards and eat their fruit. The surviving remnant of the house of Judah shall again take root downward, and bear fruit upward, for from Jerusalem a remnant shall go out, and from Mount Zion a band of survivors.<\/p>\n
It is difficult to see how Wildberger can maintain that Isa. 7:22 shows that \u2018butter and honey were in no way thought to be sustenance for a time of distress\u2019 (Wildberger 1991: 314; cf. Laato 1988: 134). They clearly are thought to be such in that passage. If Wildberger is right, and the curds and honey are food of abundance, then it would seem that Isaiah originally prophesied simple deliverance for Jerusalem at the time of the Syro-Ephraimite war. If, on the other hand, the interpretation given in 7:22 reflects the prophet\u2019s intention, then it was not a matter of simple deliverance, but of persisting through a few difficult years in the faith that God would not abandon the Davidic line but would cause it to sprout again. Even on this interpretation, the curds and honey are ambivalent, as they hearken back to the vision of a land flowing with milk and honey. They imply the destruction of the vineyards, the symbol of luxury in eighth-century Judah, as can be seen in Isaiah 5, especially in vv. 8\u201310, and for that reason seem to cohere well with the message of Isaiah. A similar ambiguity attaches to the name of the prophet\u2019s first son, Shear-jashub, which combines the motifs of judgment (reduction to a remnant) and deliverance (the remnant shall return; Irvine 1990: 142\u201347). We might also compare the prophecy of Isaiah\u2019s contemporary Hosea, that Yahweh would strip the land bare, to make it a desert, as a prelude to a new Exodus.<\/p>\n
3. A Proclamation of Judgment?<\/p>\n
Many scholars, however, see the Immanuel prophecy as \u2018a proclamation of judgment to Ahaz\u2019 (Procksch 1930: 121; Dietrich 1976: 77\u201378; Kilian 1986: 58\u201359; Laato 1988: 144). Hartmut Gese had no doubt that the sign of Immanuel bespoke \u2018schlimmstes Unheil\u2019 for Ahaz (Gese 1974: 142). Wildberger writes that \u2018following the hesitation of the king to show the courage to believe on the basis of a sign that would be offered\u2014and thus to make the correct political-military decision\u2014the only message which could follow would be one which would threaten Ahaz with judgment\u2019 (Wildberger 1991: 312\u201313). Wildberger does not claim that there is any rejection of the Davidic line here: \u2018the sign means that the dynasty of the Davidic kings still has a future. But at the same time it is made very plain to Ahaz how heavily his doubt weighs him down \u2026 His actions cannot be without bitter consequences\u2019 (Wildberger 1991: 313; cf. Laato 1997: 127). He finds these consequences expressed in 7:18\u201325 and in ch. 8. Scholars who follow this line of interpretation often point to Micah 5 as a parallel, where the prophet looks for a new beginning for the Davidic line (Stamm 1960: 450). Williamson goes further, claiming that \u2018at this point Isaiah turns his back on the house of David\u2019 (Williamson 1998a: 252). For Williamson, Immanuel \u2018represents a radical discontinuity with the present heirs of the Davidic family\u2019, but \u2018represents continuity of a different sort, namely a continuity in terms of God\u2019s provision of effective leadership for his people\u2019 (Williamson 1998a: 253). He goes on to claim that \u2018nothing is said of the biologically Davidic nature of the child even while he takes the place that the ideal Davidide should hold\u2019 (Williamson 1998a: 254). He concludes: \u2018It therefore seems that God\u2019s commitment to his people overrides a specific concern for any particular historical dynasty\u2019 (Williamson 1998a: 253).
\nYet the attempt to separate Immanuel from the Davidic dynasty is problematic on several counts. As I have noted already, the name itself evokes the Davidic and Zion traditions. If we reject the view that the \u05e2\u05dc\u05de\u05d4 is the wife of the prophet, as Williamson rightly does, it is hard to avoid the conclusion that she is a wife of the king, and if she is, Immanuel comes from the Davidic line, whether or not he is heir to the throne. Williamson is also right that the prophet is concerned with the Davidic house, not just with Ahaz (cf. v. 13, \u2018hear then, O house of David\u2019, and the use of plural suffixes). But the birth of a child whose name is a slogan of the Davidic house by no means signifies the rejection of that house. Quite the opposite. Rather, as scholars such as Hammershaimb and H\u00f8genhaven have argued, Immanuel is a sign that God is with the house of David (Hammershaimb 1966: 19\u201320; H\u00f8genhaven 1988: 87\u201393; cf. Irvine 1990: 164\u201371; Barthel 1997: 141; Beuken 2003: 210; Wagner 2006: 165).
\nWilliamson objects that this line of interpretation \u2018fails to take seriously the conditional nature of v. 9b\u2019 (\u2018if you do not stand firm in faith, you will not be made firm\u2019). He argues, reasonably, that \u2018it must be the continuity of the Davidic dynasty itself\u2019 that is made conditional. \u2018It is this\u2019, he continues, \u2018which Ahaz has apparently forfeited by his demonstrable lack of faith, and will have further serious consequences in the form of Assyrian intervention in the affairs of Judah\u2019 (Williamson 1998a: 252). If we read the text in an Isaianic context, however, or in the literary context of Isa. 7:1\u201317, it is not yet apparent that Ahaz\u2019s lack of faith is final. As Hammershaimb put it, the sign \u2018must then be understood as a last, final attempt on the part of Yahweh to overcome the king\u2019s doubt and fear\u2019. The narrative focuses on the point when Isaiah spoke to Ahaz, while the threat from Syria and Ephraim still loomed. It does not offer any commentary on the eventual outcome. Such commentary is provided in Isa. 8:6\u20137: \u2018Because this people has refused the waters of Shiloah that flow gently, and melt in fear before Rezin and the son of Remaliah, therefore the Lord is bringing up against it the mighty flood waters of the River, the king of Assyria\u2019. Isaiah 8:8 goes on to say that this flood will fill \u2018the breadth of your land, O Immanuel\u2019. Whether or not this passage was once part of a Denkschrift that also included Isaiah 7, it is clearly a later prophecy that presupposes the birth of Immanuel. But the perspective of this slightly later situation cannot be read back into the original Immanuel prophecy. The catastrophic effects of Assyrian intervention will indeed be highlighted in ch. 8, but I see nothing in the text, in either Isaiah 7 or 8, to indicate that the covenant with David was annulled.
\nThe name Immanuel, and his probable identity as a son of Ahaz, weigh heavily in favour of the view that he is not radically discontinuous with the Davidic line, but continuous with it. The initial explanation of the sign of Immanuel, in Isa. 7:16, makes clear that his birth does not portend a judgment on Ahaz, but rather on the kings of Syria and Israel: \u2018For before the child knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good, the land before whose two kings you are in dread will be deserted\u2019. (The same significance is attached to symbolism of Maher-shalal-hash-baz in Isa. 8:4.) The picture is confused, however, by 7:17: \u2018The Lord will bring on you and your people and on your ancestral house such days as have not come since the day that Ephraim departed from Judah\u2014the king of Assyria\u2019. The mention of the king of Assyria, surely a gloss, indicates that what the Lord will bring on Judah is severe, and its severity is spelled out in the further redactional additions in 7:18ff. As Wildberger notes, without the gloss \u2018it does not seem impossible that the sentence could be taken as a promise of salvation: Days are coming which are full of salvation in a way which they have not been since the time when the kingdom was still united under David and Solomon. As far as Isaiah is concerned, that epoch is practically the ideal era\u2019 (Wildberger 1991: 315). Hammershaimb suggested that Isaiah may have sensed the possibility that Davidic rule would be extended over northern Israel after the Assyrians withdrew (Hammershaimb 1949\u201350: 137\u201338; 1966: 22; H\u00f8genhaven 1988: 91). Against this, the preposition \u05e2\u05dc has a negative connotation (Dietrich 1976: 78). The point of the verse may not be to say that things will be again as they were before Israel separated from Judah, but that what will happen will be worse than anything seen since then. Wildberger, accordingly, takes it in an adversative sense; in English we should supply a \u2018but\u2019 at the beginning. So, Immanuel is a sign of hope, because the two invading countries will be destroyed, but the Lord will bring a severe punishment on Judah because of Ahaz\u2019s lack of faith.
\nThe ambivalence of Isa. 7:17 may be due to redaction, reflecting \u2018this reinterpretation of Isaiah\u2019s signs to Ahaz from reassurance to threat\u2019 that Sweeney attributes to his \u2018Josianic\u2019 redaction. We may suppose that the reference to the separation of Israel from Judah was originally positive, anticipating a restoration of united Israel. After the effects of Assyrian intervention in Judah became clear, however, especially in the time of Sennacherib, this reference was reconfigured as negative, as a disaster that came upon Judah, and its catastrophic character was further elaborated in 7:18\u201325.
\nI would suggest, then, that the original prophecy of Isaiah to Ahaz was one of reassurance. The sign of Immanuel was offered to try to induce the king to have faith in the promise. The prophecy was not necessarily one of simple deliverance. The symbolism of the curds and honey may have been deliberately ambiguous: there would be hardship for a few years, but the food provided by the uncultivated land would still have an idyllic quality. The promise to David is not revoked.
\nEventually, of course, it became clear that the king would not heed the prophet\u2019s advice, and indeed, in the circumstances, it is difficult to blame him! As Blenkinsopp (2000: 230) remarks, his submission to Assyria \u2018afforded Judah an additional century or so of more or less independent existence\u2019. The extant text of Isa. 7:17\u201325 shifts the focus from the destruction of Syria and northern Israel to the destruction of Judah, and probably presupposes the invasion of Sennacherib. Assyria is the razor hired beyond the river that shaved Judah bare. Isaiah 8:5\u20138 is explicit in blaming this catastrophe on lack of faith and trust in the promises: \u2018because this people has refused the waters of Shiloah that flow gently, and melt in fear before Rezin and the son of Remaliah, therefore the Lord is bringing up against it the mighty flood waters of the River, the king of Assyria and all his glory\u2019. The birth of Immanuel, which is presupposed in Isaiah 8, does not prevent this disaster; Immanuel is not a deliverer. Whether the redactor identified Immanuel with Hezekiah, when he referred to \u2018your land, O Immanuel\u2019, as Blenkinsopp (2000: 234) assumes, seems less than certain. The point may be that the child born during the Syro-Ephraimite crisis did not see the deliverance originally promised, but rather the Assyrian invasion. A stronger case for the identification of Immanuel with Hezekiah can be based on 2 Kgs 18:7, which says of Hezekiah, \u2018the Lord was with him\u2019. In historical fact, the invasion of Sennacherib was brought about by the rebellion of Hezekiah (Miller and Hayes 1986: 354) but he receives no blame in the account in 2 Kings 18 and Isaiah 36. Rather, Hezekiah is praised because he turned to the Lord for help (Isa. 37:21; cf. 2 Kgs 19:20). It would seem that for the editors of Isaiah 7\u20138 and 36\u201337 the Assyrian invasion was punishment for Ahaz\u2019s lack of faith. Presumably, then, this was the fulfilment of Isaiah\u2019s warning: \u2018if you do not have faith, you will not be made firm\u2019. The Davidic line was not cut off because of Ahaz\u2019s lack of faith. Whatever the prophet may have originally meant, the Davidic covenant was understood in terms of 2 Samuel 7, which allows for punishment of an individual king but not rejection of the dynasty, rather than as fully conditional.<\/p>\n
4. The Messianic Interpretation<\/p>\n
Because of the use of the Immanuel prophecy in the Gospel of Matthew, it has traditionally been read as messianic in Christianity. This is not the case in Jewish tradition, where the passage is rather referred to Hezekiah, who is at most a prototype of the messiah (Laato 1997: 123\u201325; Strack and Billerbeck 1926: 75). I am not aware of any pre-Christian Jewish text that reflects a messianic understanding of this passage, unless one thinks that such an understanding is implied by the translation of \u05e2\u05dc\u05de\u05d4 as parthenos in the LXX of Isaiah. Nonetheless, messianic interpretation survives in modern scholarship in various forms. A century ago, the Religionsgeschichtliche Schule posited a widespread myth of the birth of a wonderful saviour child, also reflected in Virgil\u2019s Fourth Eclogue (Norden 1924; Gressmann 1929: 241; Mowinckel 1956: 114\u201315). But the methods of that school, which pieced together myths from disparate sources, have been widely discredited. The messianic character of Immanuel is often inferred from the supposed opposition between him and Ahaz. Gressmann (1929: 240) argued that Immanuel signified good fortune for Judah but misfortune for Ahaz, who would have to depart from the scene to make way for the messiah. Gese argued that in Isa. 7:10\u201317 the ruling Davidic house was rejected, although the messiah, Immanuel, would also be a Davidide (Gese 1977: 133; cf. Lescow 1967: 172\u2013207; Clements 1996: 77). The promise was not restricted to a particular branch of the family. In support of this position he pointed to Mic. 5:1\u20133 (ET 2\u20134), which looked for a new sprout from the root of Jesse, which would come from Bethlehem rather than Jerusalem, and which may allude to Isaiah 7 in v. 2 (\u2018he will give them up until she who is giving birth brings forth\u2019). Williamson (1998a: 254) recognizes that \u2018a long-range messianic interpretation is ruled out\u2019, but nonetheless contends that Isa. 7:14 has somewhat more of a messianic flavour than most recent commentators have been prepared to allow\u2019 (Williamson 1998a: 253; cf. Beuken 2003: 210). Williamson (1998a: 254) sees radical discontinuity with the Davidic line: \u2018nothing is said of the biologically Davidic nature of the child, even while he takes the place that the ideal Davidide should hold\u2019. But neither is anything said of the biologically non-Davidic nature of Immanuel, and it is not at all clear that he is a future king. On my own reading of the text, this whole line of reasoning is mistaken. Immanuel is not introduced in opposition to Ahaz, but as a sign of hope for the continuity of the Davidic line. As Stamm (1960: 452) argued, it is unlikely that the messiah would serve as a sign, since he should rather be the fulfilment.
\nA different line of reasoning finds evidence for the messianic interpretation in the redactional shaping of the text (whether this is thought to reflect the original meaning or not; see Wegner 1992: 131\u201335). Brevard Childs concludes his commentary on the chapter by asserting that \u2018notwithstanding the extraordinary mystery and indeterminacy surrounding the giving of the sign of Immanuel, there are many clear indications that it was understood messianically by the tradents of the Isaianic tradition, and shaped in such a way both to clarify and expand the messianic hope for every successive generation of the people of God\u2019 (Childs 2001: 68\u201369). Many scholars have seen such shaping in the close proximity of two other oracles involving a child, in chs. 9 and 11 (Coppens 1968: 74; Rehm 1968: 346). This proximity certainly influences the modern reader\u2019s perception of the text. But the three passages were not taken together in rabbinic tradition. Isaiah 7 and 9 were interpreted with reference to Hezekiah, while the interpretation of Isaiah 11 was consistently messianic, already in the Dead Sea Scrolls (Collins 1995: 49\u201373; Laato 1997: 124\u201325). There is an intriguing allusion to Isaiah 9 in the context of a woman giving birth in 1QHa 11.9\u201310: \u2018through the breakers of death she gives birth to a male, and through the pangs of Sheol there emerges from the crucible of the pregnant woman a wonderful counsellor (\u05e4\u05dc\u05d0 \u05d9\u05d5\u05e2\u05e5) with his strength\u2019. The context is an extended metaphor: \u2018I was in distress like a woman giving birth for the first time\u2019. The labour of the one who gives birth to the wonderful counsellor is contrasted with that of one who brings forth vanity or an asp\/serpent. There is broad agreement that the passage is indebted to the topos of \u2018the woes of the messiah\u2019, although it is not clear whether a particular messianic figure is in view (Dupont-Sommer 1955; Holm-Nielsen 1960: 61; cf. Collins 1981: 366\u201370). But in any case he is not called Immanuel, and his mother is not called an \u05e2\u05dc\u05de\u05d4. The turbulent nature of his birth is not reflected in Isaiah 7. So, while this passage may provide some evidence for the messianic interpretation of Isaiah 9 in the first century BCE, it lends no support to the messianic interpretation of Isaiah 7. It is possible (but by no means certain) that the obscure passage in Mic. 5:2 (ET 3) (\u2018until she who is in labour has brought forth\u2019) reflects a messianic interpretation of Isaiah 7, but I am not aware of any other pre-Christian Jewish text that supports such a view.
\nBlenkinsopp remarks that Isaiah 7 exemplifies the way in which biblical texts have generated \u2018new and multiple meanings in the course of the life cycle of the same texts\u2019 (Blenkinsopp 2000: 53; cf. Sawyer 1996). Recent study of the prophetic literature, and of Isaiah in particular, has shifted its focus away from the quest for original meaning towards the final form, and even towards traditional interpretation. For Childs, \u2018the true exegetical task does not lie in eliminating certain voices of the final form of the Hebrew text as nongenuine accretions, but rather in seeking to understand the effect of the text\u2019s own concerns on the subsequent editorial shaping\u2019 (Childs 2001: 67). The attention to the history of interpretation is salutary and indeed overdue. But especially in the case of a theologically laden text such as Isaiah 7, the historical-critical quest for the earliest form and meaning of the text still has its place. While the long history of messianic and Christological interpretation of this passage is rich and fruitful in its own right, it is also salutary to remember that in the beginning it was not so.<\/p>\n
EXCLUSIVELY YAHWEH: ANICONISM AND ANTHROPOMORPHISM IN EZEKIEL<\/p>\n
Jill Middlemas<\/p>\n
1. Introduction<\/p>\n
Discussions of aniconism or the lack of figuration of the deity in ancient Israel have tended towards material, historical and sociological analyses (Keel and Uehlinger 1992; Evans 1995; Schmidt 1995; Hendel 1998) and the Pentateuchal legal material has been used, by and large, in support of arguments about the development of an aniconic ideal (Zimmerli 1979; Dohmen 1987). The legal material represents a type of programmatic aniconism, whereby regulations were enacted in order to directly repudiate the use of images in worship. In his study of the material culture of the ancient Near East with a view towards understanding the expressions and pervasiveness of aniconic conceptualizations, Tryggve Mettinger suggested that regulations about aniconism were substantiated by ideological arguments as well (1979, 1990, 1995, 1997a, 1997b, 2005, 2006). The promulgation of like-minded ideas supported the institution of rules.
\nOne clear type of programmatic aniconism in this second sense can be found in the rhetorical strategies employed by the biblical writers to foreclose on a pantheon of gods and goddesses as real and viable additions or alternatives to Yahweh, particularly through their objectification. For example, the goddess Asherah appears as a symbol in the Hebrew Bible and nothing more (Middlemas 2005: 96), the polemical passages against idols in Jeremiah (10:1\u20136) and Deutero-Isaiah (Isa. 40:19\u201320; 41:5\u201314; 44:6\u201322) parodied the existence of other gods and goddesses (Dick 1999), and Ezekiel subtly denies other deities divine status by using foul terms to name them, reserving \u02beel\u014dh\u00eem, a term connoting divinity, for Yahweh alone (1:1; 8:3, 4; 9:3; 10:20; 11:20, etc.) (Kutsko 2000a, 2000b). Michael Dick provides a helpful summary of the three rhetorical strategies employed by the biblical prophets: they (1) identified the deity with the image used during rituals so that the foreign god was wrested of its power as a divine being, (2) challenged the divine status of an image produced by human hands, and (3) parodied the profane raw materials out of which the divine image had been constructed.
\nBut is a strict ban on all images a correct paradigm for this phenomenon? Brian Schmidt, for example, has argued that the terminology of programmatic aniconism and the concept of iconophobia that informs it do not represent the reality of cultic expressions in ancient Israel (1995). After considering the legal material in the Pentateuch, he suggests that flora and Mischwesen or a composite made up of anthropomorphic and theriomorphic (animal form) elements remained available as legitimate divine images in ancient Israel, thereby suggesting that aniconism was more fluid in practice. Since the legal material seems exhausted with respect to this question, it seems prudent to consider other literature that might shed light on conceptualizations of the divine. The book of Ezekiel envisions the destruction and re-establishment of the sanctuary and it contains some of the most graphic imagery in the Hebrew Bible. How it conceives of divine symbolism contributes to questions of iconism and aniconism in ancient Israel.<\/p>\n
2. Complete Aniconism in Ezekiel<\/p>\n
In certain periods of its history, ancient Israel evidenced empty-space aniconism, whereby symbols represented the presence of the deity, but did not imitate the form, as with the use of standing stones in pre-exilic Yahweh worship (de Moor 1995). Mettinger describes this as empty-space or material aniconism and shows how in some cults of the ancient Near East it gave way to complete aniconic expression, where no image could be used in worship. According to the biblical account, the First Temple in ancient Israel contained two features consistent with empty-space aniconism: the ark of the covenant and the cherubim throne. Careful attention to these symbols in the book of Ezekiel sheds light on the prophet\u2019s contribution to the establishment of an aniconic ideal.
\nA pair of gold-plated cherubim were set up in the holy of holies of the Solomonic Temple (1 Kgs 6:23\u201328; cf. 8:6\u20137) that stood 10 cubits high (1 Kgs 6:23) and had two sets of wings, one pair outstretched horizontally to form a seat for the presence of Yahweh (1 Kgs 6:27; 2 Chron. 3:12) and the others stretched vertically towards the heavens. The cherubim were also located on the walls, doors and thresholds of the Temple along with other images that were carved into the woodwork in the interior of the sanctuary (1 Kgs 6:29, 32, 35). Narrative accounts and liturgy of the monarchical period support the literary portrait of images associated with Yahweh in the First Temple. The deity is called \u2018the Lord of hosts who sits enthroned on the cherubim\u2019 (1 Sam. 4:4; 2 Sam. 6:2; 2 Kgs 19:15; Pss. 18:11, ET 10; 80:2, ET 1; 99:1) and the cherubim throne with the ark as its footstool served as symbols of Yahweh as king in the Temple (Haran 1959). Elsewhere in the ancient Near East, Mettinger found examples of cherubim thrones on which no statuettes of the deity could stand due to the sharp angle of the seat. These correlate well with the record of ancient Israelite tradition, which purports that no physical form of the deity appeared.
\nThe cherub throne itself represented the invisible and abiding presence of Yahweh. Ezekiel\u2019s equivalent of the cherub throne is the mobile throne chariot (Keel 1977), which appears twice in conjunction with the appearance of Yahweh\u2019s presence (chs. 1\u20133 and 8\u201311). In the first vision, the cherubim throne travels with the presence of Yahweh to Ezekiel in Babylon to commission him to be a prophet to the exiles (1:4\u201328). The prophet sees creatures bearing the throne chariot and describes them in graphic detail (1:5\u201314) along with the wheels (1:15\u201321), and subsequently speaks of the throne itself (vv. 22\u201328). Ezekiel 1:26 reads:<\/p>\n
And above the dome over the cherubim heads there was something like a throne, in appearance like sapphire; and seated above the likeness of a throne was something that seemed like a human form \u2026<\/p>\n
The cherubim throne appears again in conjunction with Ezekiel\u2019s vision of the desecrated Temple in chs. 8\u201311. Ezekiel witnesses a vision in which executioners are called forward to deliver the deity\u2019s judgment on the city of Jerusalem. He explores at great length a visionary scene that pays attention to depicting the cherub throne and the mobile presence of the deity (chs. 9\u201310). He notes the throne, \u2018Then I looked, and above the dome that was over the heads of the cherubim there appeared above them something like a sapphire, in form resembling a throne\u2019 (10:1). As in the first vision recounted in chs. 1\u20133, Ezekiel provides detail of the wheels and the cherubim themselves (10:9\u201314). The description of the cherubim employs language similar to that found in chs. 1\u20133 and is, in fact, referred to in that vision (10:20\u201322).
\nIn addition, Ezekiel describes the mobility of the deity\u2019s presence with reference to the throne chariot. The divine effulgence moves from the cherub \u2018on which it had rested\u2019 to the Temple (9:3; cf. 10:4) when the executioner approaches, and returns again (10:18) to sit enthroned on the cherubim (10:19) when the executioner had left. Moreover, the presence of Yahweh rises up with the cherubim throne and leaves the Temple of Jerusalem to hover on the outskirts of the city, thereby, sealing its fate (11:22). In the first part of Ezekiel, temporally located before the destruction of the Temple and the collapse of the city of Jerusalem in 587, the prophet depicts the presence of Yahweh on a throne chariot akin in some respects to what one might have expected based on the iconography of the First Temple as related in the biblical material.
\nSubsequent to the fall of the city and Temple, another vision of the presence of Yahweh occurs in which Ezekiel sees the Temple rebuilt in Judah (chs. 40\u201348). In his vision of the restored Temple complex, the divine effulgence appears to Ezekiel, but there is no depiction of Yahweh riding the throne chariot. Reference is made to the former theophanies, but without the graphic depiction and minute details known from them:<\/p>\n
And there, the glory of the God of Israel was coming from the east; the sound was like the sound of mighty waters; and the earth shone with his glory. The vision I saw was like the vision that I had seen when he came to destroy the city, and like the vision that I had seen by the river Chebar. (43:2\u20133)<\/p>\n
The prophet actually refers to the return of the glory of the deity two additional times without mentioning, much less portraying, the throne chariot (43:4, 5).
\nRather than a throne chariot, Ezekiel finds the cherubim on the walls and doors of the sanctuary (41:17\u201320, 25), which is consistent with one of their locations in the First Temple. They are artwork indicating guardianship and\/or holiness, but not an object through which worshippers might direct their attention to the deity. The loss of the chariot throne in the restored and purified Second Temple contrasts sharply to the detailed depiction of the cherubim in the Holy of Holies of the Temple in 1 Kings 6\u20138 and in the first two vision sequences in Ezekiel. In spite of the fact that elsewhere Ezekiel is clearly capable of launching into lengthy descriptions of the divine effulgence (see below), the throne chariot, its wheels and the cherubim themselves, no such accompanying symbols appear in the final vision. This is no coincidence. It is aniconism in its fullest expression: the purified Temple will have no representative figure of Yahweh.
\nAnother telling feature in Ezekiel is the complete lack of attention to the ark of the covenant\u2014the other significant symbol of Yahweh\u2019s presence associated with the First Temple. According to the biblical account (1 Kgs 6\u20138), the ark held a prominent position in the cult. It was located directly underneath the wings of the cherubim as the deity\u2019s footstool (1 Kgs 8:6\u20138; 1 Chron. 28:2) and it was used in festive rituals. Jeremiah\u2014thought to be contemporaneous with Ezekiel\u2014speaks of the ark: \u2018And when you have multiplied and increased in the land, in those days, says Yahweh, they shall no longer say, \u201cThe ark of the covenant of Yahweh.\u201d It shall not come to mind, or be remembered, or missed; nor shall another one be made\u2019 (Jer. 3:16). With the priestly background ascribed to Ezekiel, it would seem logical that the prophet would have been familiar with the ark and its ideology; nevertheless, he fails to mention it. In spite of this, Ezekiel exhibits awareness of the ideology by appropriating terminology of the ark for the Temple, \u2018He said to me: Son of Man, this is the place of my throne and the place for the soles of my feet, where I will reside among the people of Israel forever\u2019 (Ezek. 43:7a). The ark is conspicuous by its absence.
\nIn a classic study Gerhard von Rad argued that the ark lost its status as a symbol of Yahweh\u2019s presence and became a mere container in Deuteronomic thought (cf. Deut. 10:1\u20135; 1 Kgs 8:9; see von Rad 1953; cf. Mettinger 1982). In Ezekiel, it does not even deserve a mention. In line with Ezekiel\u2019s aniconic sentiment with respect to the cherub throne, he omits references to the ark even where they might have been expected. Effectively, Ezekiel shelves another symbol used in Yahweh worship in the First Temple.
\nIncreased concerns about the use of images as signifiers for the deity fit well within the overall argument of Ezekiel. In conjunction with his scathing attack on the population that remained in Judah following the Jehoiachin deportation in 598 (cf. Renz 1999), cultic malpractice, especially idol worship, provided the basis for divine judgment. Even more telling, Ezekiel is resoundingly anti-image. His message goes well beyond polemicizing or parodying the worship of other deities. The (in-)famous vision of the defiled Temple in chs. 8\u201311 resolutely rejects images by linking divine judgment to the use of icons in ritual practice. Although a significant amount of discussion has focused on identifying the four religious rituals Ezekiel encounters when he is led around the Temple complex by his heavenly guide (for an overview, see Middlemas 2005: 91\u201393, 110\u201317), what is crucial for Ezekiel is not the identity of the deities being worshipped, but the practices themselves. Each scene represents some form of worship in which iconography was employed\u2014the statue of jealousy (8:3, 5), the idols engraved in the walls (8:7\u201313), the worship of Tammuz, which included the parading of an idol, and the sun as a natural image (on the last, see Taylor 1993; Schmidt 1995: 82, 84\u201388). Even as Ezekiel is opposed to the worship of deities either in place of or in addition to Yahweh, he objected to the icons used in ritual practice. Throughout the book, the message about images (they are not gods in Ezekiel) is that a choice for them is a choice for death (note the fate of Pelatiah in 11:13). Even the return of divine rule is predicated on the cessation of idol worship, \u2018Now let them put away their idolatry and the corpses of their kings far from me and I will reside among them forever\u2019 (Ezek. 43:9).
\nConsideration of the abolition of symbolic representations in Ezekiel suggests that the concern throughout is with iconography. In support, it is worthwhile noting that Ezekiel\u2019s conception of Yahweh\u2019s presence was informed by k\u0101b\u00f4d ideology, rather than that associated with the Deuteronomic worldview, whereby the presence of Yahweh dwelt in heaven with a divine element present in the Temple via the Name. In contrast to Deuteronomic Name theology, k\u0101b\u00f4d theology was founded on the belief in a mobile presence (von Rad 1953: 37\u201344; Clements 1965; Keel 1977; Mettinger 1982), so that the deity could be present in the Temple while free to move about at will. The point about the purified Temple in Ezekiel 40\u201348 is that the sanctuary would be protected from polluting elements so that Yahweh could be present. Other prophets rhetorically fashioned gods and goddesses into the symbols used in their worship and showed those representations to be profane. By the time of the completion of the book of Ezekiel, no physical object could even hint at the presence of Yahweh, lest its appearance desecrate the sanctuary. Perhaps in the final verdict, it is better to speak not of aniconism in Ezekiel, but iconoclasm.<\/p>\n
3. Anthropomorphism in Ezekiel<\/p>\n
Frequent studies of the imagery in the book of Ezekiel have concentrated on language in which Yahweh is depicted in human form (anthropomorphism), because it is thought to contain the most anthropomorphic picture of the deity. If Ezekiel can be called the most anthropomorphic of the prophets, the question arises: How can he be aniconic? In the first place it is important to distinguish what is anthropomorphic and what is not.
\nIn a study of the final chapters of Ezekiel that is typical of the argument, Rimon Kasher draws on a common assumption made by many interpreters in order to assess the influence of the prophetic conceptions of God on the restored Temple and its cult (1998). He writes, \u2018There is perhaps no other biblical prophet whose God is so corporeal as Ezekiel\u2019 (1998: 192). He bases his judgment on language likening the deity to a human male in two visions (1:27 and 8:2) as well as on the occurrence of phrases in which Yahweh is figured with a human member, such as \u2018the hand of Yahweh\u2019 or does something a human would do, including such expressions as, \u2018to offer Me fat and blood\u2019 (44:15), \u2018when you offer up My food\u2019 (44:7), \u2018the priests that are near to the Lord\u2019 (42:13) [and so forth].
\nA consideration of this topic by James Barr should influence any assertions about anthropomorphic or theriomorphic language of the divine in Ezekiel (1960). Barr draws a distinction between expressions that actually portray the deity in a form and those that merely convey divine actions through the application of human physical features or attributes. He states helpfully, \u2018frequent expressions about God\u2019s ears or nose, his smelling or whistling, are not seriously anthropomorphisms in the sense of expressions trying to come to grips with the form, the morphe, of God\u2019 (1960: 31; cf. Carroll 1977: 54). Instead, they \u2018provide a rich vocabulary for the diversity of the divine activity\u2019 (Barr 1960: 31). Furthermore, he argues that the actual form of the deity occurs in theophanies during which Yahweh lets the godhead be seen (e.g. Isa. 6; Ezek. 1).
\nThe expressions noted by Kasher, such as \u2018sacrifice to Me\u2019 and \u2018prepare My table\u2019, do not portray the deity in any form. Similarly wanting is the appeal to the prophetic use of the deity\u2019s hand as anthropomorphic language. References to the deity\u2019s hand occur in four types of expressions in Ezekiel. The divine hand appears initially in conjunction with communication from the deity to Ezekiel where it occurs seven times as \u2018the hand of Yahweh (Yahweh God)\u2019 (1:3; 3:14, 22; 8:1; 33:22; 37:1; 40:1). When used in conjunction with prophetic figures, the expression conveys something of the ecstatic and visionary nature of the experience (1 Kgs 18:46; 2 Kgs 3:15; Isa. 8:11; Jer. 15:17), rather than conveying the divine form (Roberts 1971). Closely related to the above is the hand that stretches out to present the scroll to Ezekiel to eat (2:9) and \u2018the form of a hand\u2019 that transports Ezekiel by his hair to Jerusalem (8:3). Again, the context shows a description of Yahweh\u2019s interaction with the prophet rather than a depiction of the deity.
\nIn addition, the use of the term \u2018hand\u2019 with reference to Yahweh is used metaphorically for judgment (6:14; 7:21; 13:9; 14:9, 13; 16:27, etc.) and salvation (13:23; 20:33, 34). In the context of saving, the reference to the mighty hand and outstretched arm finds confirmation in the analysis of Walter Zimmerli, who traces the imagery of the idiom to the Exodus narrative where it depicts Yahwistic interaction (1979). Finally, hand is used in a particular type of formula (n\u0101\u015b\u0101\u02be y\u0101d le, \u2018swore to\u2019 [lit. \u2018raised the hand to\u2019]). The idiom is rare in the Old Testament and is linked in Ezekiel with the deity\u2019s action on behalf of or against the nation of ancient Israel: the nations will suffer insult (20:5, 6, 15, 23, 28, 42; 36:7), ancient Israel will be punished for worshipping idols (44:12), and the land is to be divided equally among the tribes (47:14). Although traditionally regarded as a type of oath formula, Johan Lust has provided an analysis with particular attention to Deuteronomy 32 that resonates with the use of the expression in Ezekiel as articulated here (1994). In Ezekiel, the uses of the divine hand do not support an argument in favour of the portrayal of the deity as a human being, much less a man. Instead, it speaks to divine interaction in the human realm.
\nAnother line of discussion followed by Kasher in his argument for anthropomorphic language in Ezekiel is based on the prophet\u2019s encounter with the divine glory (k\u0101b\u00f4d) (Ezek. 1:28; 3:12, 23; 8:4; 9:3; 10:4 [\u00d72], 18, 19; 11:22, 23; 43:2, 4, 5; 44:4). Imagery of Yahweh\u2019s presence appears in 1:26\u201328, and is thought to appear in 8:2. The relevant passages are:<\/p>\n
the form of the likeness (dem\u00fbt kemar\u02be\u0113h) of a human being (\u02be\u0101d\u0101m) was upon it. (1:26)<\/p>\n
like the likeness (kemar\u02be\u0113h) of the bow that will be in the cloud on a rainy day so is the likeness of the shining all around; it is the likeness of the appearance (h\u00fb\u02be mar\u02be\u0113h dem\u00fbt) of the glory of Yahweh. (1:28)<\/p>\n
I looked and there was the appearance as the likeness (dem\u00fbt kemar\u02be\u0113h) of fire. (8:2, \u02be\u0113\u0161, \u2018fire\u2019, frequently emended to \u02be\u00ee\u0161, \u2018a man\u2019, based on the LXX)<\/p>\n
Without emending the text, it is only in 1:26 that the prophet conveys the form of the deity as a human being. However, \u2018fire\u2019 in 8:2 has been emended almost unanimously to \u2018male\u2019 on the basis of the Septuagint andros (so even Greenberg who is loathe to emend the text elsewhere, 1983: 166).
\nThere are certain parallels between the description of the presence of Yahweh in 1:26\u201327 and 8:2 that would support the emendation. The deity in a human form is mentioned in 1:26, but the actual description appears in the following verse (v. 27): \u2018I saw as the likeness of glowing amber, like the appearance of fire enclosed all around (was the figure) from the appearance of its midsection and upwards; and from the appearance of its midsection and downwards I saw something that looked like fire, and there was a splendour all around\u2019. Compare 8:2, where the deity\u2019s presence is fire in the MT, \u2018I looked and saw the likeness of something like the appearance of fire, from the appearance of its midsection and downwards it was fire, and from the appearance of its midsection upwards it was like the appearance of brightness, like gleaming amber\u2019. In both images the upper section of the figure is gleaming amber and the lower section is fire.
\nNevertheless, the texts are not identical, which makes it difficult to judge whether the Greek tradition has a different Vorlage or that fire was supplied to downplay the idea of Yahweh as a human male (Joyce 2007: 97\u201398). What may help to adjudicate the matter is a closer look at both texts in comparison. First, it is noteworthy that the passages are not identical and, in fact, the description of the form is found inverted in the second. In 1:27, the upper section of the form is described first (as gleaming amber and fire), followed by the lower section (as fire and splendour, n\u014dgah). In 8:2, the lower section is described first (as fire), followed by the upper section (as brightness, z\u014dhar, and gleaming amber). What is clearly missing is 8:2 is the statement, \u2018like the appearance of fire enclosed all around\u2019. The emphasis in both passages is on the brightness of the form, but the likening of upper section to fire in 8:2 is missing. Moreover, in 1:27 the term for fire appears twice, but only once in 8:2 should the emendation be accepted. If the MT is retained, then the figuration of Yahweh as fire is represented consistently in both and would provide one example of the use of mixed forms for Yahweh as Schmidt has suggested.
\nA unique phrase\u2014dem\u00fbt kemar\u02be\u0113h \u2018the form like the appearance of\u2019\u2014appears in 1:26 and 8:2 that links them further. The term dem\u00fbt (\u2018form\u2019) is often used to denote the abstract, but it can be used to refer to a copy of something, as with the model of the altar in Damascus that Ahaz would like to imitate (2 Kgs 16:10; cf. Kutsko 2000a: 131\u201332), with reference to human beings in the likeness of God (Gen. 1:26), or Adam\u2019s son in his likeness (Gen. 5:3; cf. Schroer 1987: 322\u201332). Moreover, it is found used in parallel to \u1e63lm of the king\u2019s image\u2014without difference in meaning\u2014in an extra-biblical inscription from Tell Fakhariyeh (Garr 2000). Outside of Ezekiel it is never used in construct to mar\u02be\u0113h (\u2018appearance\u2019) as here. Citing the description of Yahweh in Ezekiel\u2019s call narrative, J. Maxwell Miller observes:<\/p>\n
Ezekiel\u2019s use of dem\u00fbt in the description of his vision of God is especially instructive. Although Ezekiel is extremely cautious and leaves us with the overall impression that the appearance of God\u2019s glory defies adequate description, he uses dem\u00fbt very effectively to suggest that this appearance was in a form more like that of a man than of any other creature. (1972: 292\u201392; cf. 298, 303)<\/p>\n
There is some truth to his statement, but the odd conflation of dem\u00fbt + ke (\u2018like\u2019 or \u2018as\u2019) + mar\u02be\u0113h is surely instructive. A consideration of the terms is helpful: (1) dem\u00fbt (1:5, 10, 13, 16, 22, 26, 27; 10:1, 10, 21, 22; 23:15) and (ke)mar\u02be\u0113h (1:14, 27; 10:9; 40:3; 42:11; 43:3) in construct describe something seen; (2) dem\u00fbt kemar\u02be\u0113h (1:26; 8:2) occurs only in Ezekiel and only with reference to the divine morphe; (3) (ke)mar\u02be\u0113h dem\u00fbt (1:15, 28; 10:1, 10) is used to describe objects seen; and (4) dem\u00fbt is used in the context of mar\u02be\u0113h to specify something more exactly (1:16, 26; 23:15). The final usage helps to clarify the meaning of both in Ezekiel, as exemplified in the following three texts:<\/p>\n
The appearance (mar\u02be\u0113h) of the wheels and their construction was like the gleaming of beryl; and the form (dem\u00fbt) of one was as their four \u2026 (1:16)<\/p>\n
And above the dome over their heads there was something like the appearance (mar\u02be\u0113h) of sapphire, (having) the form (dem\u00fbt) of a throne. And on the form (dem\u00fbt) of the throne \u2026 (1:26)<\/p>\n
\u2026 all of them had the appearance (mar\u02be\u0113h) of officers, (having) the form (dem\u00fbt) of the Babylonians. (23:15)<\/p>\n
In these examples, the term mar\u02be\u0113h is used to say something abstract having to do with the general appearance of something while dem\u00fbt is used to define the abstract form more closely. In Ezekiel, dem\u00fbt qualifies, indeed clarifies, mar\u02be\u0113h.
\nThis survey of the usage of the terms provides a clue to the distinctive usage of the expression about the divine form in 1:26 and 8:2. Literally, the verses should be translated, \u2018the form like the general appearance of a human being\u2019 and \u2018the form like the general appearance of fire\u2019. The unique combination of these two words and in the order in which they are found in these two verses suggests strongly that Ezekiel captures a sense of the image of the divine using a specific term, but moves away from describing the actual form of the deity by employing a more abstract and unspecific term, the prophetic emphasis being on the abstract rather than on an exact copy of the figure. This rhetorical strategy functions like a blurred photograph. The translation finds support from the portrayal in 1:28, notably, where the prophet first mentions that what he sees is \u2018the appearance (mar\u02be\u0113h) of the form (dem\u00fbt) of the glory of Yahweh\u2019. In 1:28, Ezekiel summarizes what he has seen up until this point and says that the deity\u2019s presence is more readily characterized as a rainbow. Ultimately, the divine form is elusive. The divine effulgence as a rainbow immediately deconstructs Yahweh in human form. The terminology used in conjunction with the figure in 1:26\u201328 and 8:2 suggests greater emphasis is placed on features that would connote obscurity, such as brightness, rather than a fixed, even human, form. When these arguments are considered together, it is difficult to substantiate an emendation in 8:2 that would posit the figure of the deity in a fixed and male form.
\nAlthough other objections to the emendation in 8:2 have been scanty, Keil wonders about the priority of the Greek translation given the use of fire and the rainbow in descriptions of the deity and the biblical writer\u2019s preference for \u02be\u0101d\u0101m rather than \u02be\u00ee\u0161 in ch. 1 (1876: 115). The following can be added in support of his arguments: (1) \u02be\u00ee\u0161 and \u02be\u0101d\u0101m are not the same\u2014\u02be\u00ee\u0161 is, in fact, more specific than \u02be\u0101d\u0101m, and we have seen already how Ezekiel favours the abstract with reference to the deity (on \u02be\u0101d\u0101m, see Trible 1992); (2) the summary of Ezekiel\u2019s first vision of the divine in 1:26\u201328 suggests that the image of the rainbow is the visual equivalent most consistent with the divine morphe; and (3) Yahweh\u2019s presence can be fire (Num. 9:15; cf. Exod. 3:3). This contradicts Schmidt\u2019s suggestion that flora and theriomorphic forms, but not natural images, were acceptable Yahwistic icons. It appears that certain natural images, fire and the rainbow, could represent Yahweh because they are relatively formless when considered alongside other natural phenomena.
\nMoreover, another strategy may be present here. Ezekiel draws from theophany traditions in one description of the deity (that of the \u02be\u0101d\u0101m), but reflects the tradition of Yahweh\u2019s appearance to Moses and to the Israelites in the Exodus by the use of \u02be\u0113\u0161. Through this rhetorical strategy Ezekiel is legitimated as a prophet. Like Moses he, too, sees the form of the deity, \u2018When there are prophets among you, I Yahweh make myself known to them in visions; I speak to them in dreams. Not so with my servant Moses; he is entrusted with all my house. With him I speak face to face\u2014clearly, not in riddles; and he beholds the form of Yahweh\u2019 (Num. 12:6\u20138a; for more on connections between Ezekiel and Moses, see Levenson 1976).
\nTruly, there is anthropomorphic language employed in the description of Yahweh in the book of Ezekiel, but it is not as pervasive as sometimes argued. Even when Ezekiel sees the form of the deity, the language employed conveys a sense of capturing and distancing. Secondly, the form of the deity is related to other images such as the rainbow and fire so that no one image is more prominent. In fact, the imagery used emphasizes the indefiniteness of the divine form. Finally, the actual form of Yahweh makes no appearance in the closing chapters of the book, even though the \u2018glory of the deity\u2019 returns to inhabit the Temple. In spite of the fact that the prophet was clearly capable of providing significant detail with respect to the cherubim and the divine presence in the first two visions, there is no graphic portrayal of the deity in the last vision. Even the theophanic elements are minimized. Notably, at the restoration of the Temple and society the emphasis falls on what is heard rather than what is seen\u2014in this case, the law. Hereby, Ezekiel stands in the tradition noted in Deuteronomy, \u2018You heard the sound of God, but saw no form; there was only a voice\u2019 (4:12; cf. vv. 15\u201319).<\/p>\n
4. Conclusions<\/p>\n
Temporally located before the destruction of the city and the Temple, Ezekiel is able to see the likeness of Yahweh and one representative symbol (the mobile throne chariot) alongside it. Even when Ezekiel sees the divine effulgence, however, no single or stable image emerges to represent Yahweh. After that event and in conjunction with the construction of the new, purified, and restored Temple, Ezekiel no longer sees any image\u2014not of the cherubim throne, not of the ark, and certainly not of the figure of the deity. Ezekiel had been aniconic and iconoclastic all along. Aniconism was not just a cultic phenomenon, it entailed a literary reformation as well. Because the biblical writers were masters of rhetoric and clearly understood the power of language to connote reality, they became ever more cautious in their use of language, especially in conjunction with the divine. The figuring of Yahweh became problematic in the Second Temple period because it implied a concreteness that could be understood as an icon. Ezekiel\u2019s concerns about imaging Yahweh serve as a challenge to regard more seriously the role of religious language in the conceptualizations of the divine.<\/p>\n
DEMOCRATIZING REVELATION? PROPHETS, SEERS AND VISIONARIES IN CHRONICLES<\/p>\n
Gary N. Knoppers<\/p>\n
1. Introduction<\/p>\n
In recent discussions of prophecy in the Neo-Assyrian realm, scholars have pointed to a variety of female and male figures connected with the temples or the royal court who are classified in one way or another as prophetic. These include the astrologer\/scribe (\u1e6dup\u0161arru\/\u1e6dup\u0161arratu), the female ecstatic (ma\u1e2b\u1e2b\u016btu), the male ecstatic (ma\u1e2b\u1e2b\u00fb), the diviner (b\u0101r\u00fb), the exorcist (a\u0161ipu), the oracle priestess (raggimtu), the oracle priest (raggimu), the physician (a\u1e63\u00fb), the dream interpreter (\u0161\u0101\u02beilu), and the lamentation singer (kal\u00fb; Parpola 1997; Cole and Machinist 1998; Pongratz-Leisten 1999). At first glance, one might be tempted to distance the Neo-Assyrian realm from the world of ancient Israel. But such a diverse world of prophetic figures is not unknown to some writers in ancient Judah. The author of Isa. 8:19\u201320a complains, for example, about those who say:<\/p>\n
Consult (\u05d3\u05e8\u05e9\u05d5) the spirits (\u05d4\u05d0\u05d1\u05d5\u05ea) and the mediums (\u05d4\u05d9\u05d3\u05e2\u05e0\u05d9\u05dd), who chirp and mutter. Will not a people consult its divine beings (\u05d0\u05dc\u05d4\u05d9\u05d5) on behalf of the living (\u05d4\u05d7\u05d9\u05d9\u05dd), (consult) the dead (\u05d4\u05de\u05ea\u05d9\u05dd) for instruction (\u05ea\u05d5\u05d3\u05d4) and a message (\u05ea\u05e2\u05d5\u05d3\u05d4)?<\/p>\n
A strong reaction against certain kinds of divination is also evident in Deuteronomy, which may be unique among Pentateuchal law collections in its detailed attempt to define and regulate the phenomenon of prophecy. Within the section dealing with Israelite office-holders (Deut. 16:18\u201318:22), the authors formulate specific legislation to govern the prophetic office, an institution deemed to be directly instituted by Yahweh. And yet, about as much space is devoted to cataloguing what prophecy should not be (18:9\u201314) as to defining what genuine prophecy is (18:15\u201322). Depicting consigning one\u2019s children to the fire, augury, soothsaying, divination, sorcery, spell casting, consulting a spirit or a medium and necromancy (\u05d3\u05e8\u05e9 \u05d0\u05dc\u05d4\u05d9 \u05de\u05ea\u05d9\u05dd) as practices of the pre-Israelite nations found in the land, the drafters declare such practices to be abhorrent to Yahweh (\u05ea\u05d5\u05e2\u05d1\u05ea \u05d9\u05d4\u05d5\u05d4) and thus forbidden to Israelites.
\nElsewhere, the writers warn of prophets and dream-diviners among the people who may promise an omen (\u05d0\u05d5\u05ea) or a sign (\u05de\u05d5\u05e4\u05ea), which comes true, and then say to their fellow kin, \u2018Let us follow other gods, which you have not known, and serve them\u2019 (Deut. 13:2\u20133). The authors make an important concession, acknowledging that omens and signs may actually work. Such prophets and dream-diviners are not to be heeded, however, in spite of their demonstrable success. Indeed, the efficacy of these signs and omens indicate that Yahweh is testing the community\u2019s allegiance to determine whether \u2018you are loving Yahweh your God with all of your heart and with all of your soul\u2019 (Deut. 13:4). The prospect of following those who perform such signs and omens is set over against the prospect of honouring Israel\u2019s mandate from on high: \u2018After Yahweh your God will you follow, him will you fear, his commandments will you observe, his voice will you heed, and to him will you cling\u2019 (Deut. 13:5). The stipulations of the torah trump the miracles and teachings of such sages.
\nIt is relevant that in both of the sections dealing with illicit prophecy, forbidden types of prophecy are associated with signs, omens, and the like. The writers do not deny that legitimate Yahwistic prophets might use omens and signs, but by the same token they do not mention such signs and omens in connection with the proper role and function of the prophetic office (Deut. 18:15\u201322). I shall return to the Deuteronomic definition of an authentic prophet, but for the present context I would like to propose that the Deuteronomic discussions of prophecy were a major influence on the Chronicler\u2019s depiction of prophecy during the monarchical period. To be sure, the Chronicler does not directly cite Deuteronomy\u2019s definition of prophecy and his work is, of course, quite indebted to Samuel-Kings. Yet the Chronistic presentation may also be considered to be a response to the portrayal of prophecy in the Deuteronomistic History. Finally, Chronicles bears clear witness to what some have called the textualization of the prophetic word (Nissinen 2005). Prophecy for the Chronicler takes both oral and written forms.
\nI shall argue that the Deuteronomic legislation was formative in shaping the Chronicler\u2019s view of the prophet\u2019s proper role, but also that the Chronicler goes beyond Deuteronomy\u2019s dictates in some other respects. Before delving into how the Chronicler innovates beyond Deuteronomy, it may be useful to observe his indebtedness to that earlier work. First, the Chronicler endorses the Deuteronomic reaction against some traditional forms of prophetic activity, which are deemed to be abhorrent to Yahweh. Secondly, he adopts the Deuteronomic definition of a prophet as a mouthpiece of God. Thirdly, he takes quite seriously the promise of Moses that Yahweh would raise up prophets like Moses to follow him. In other words, the Chronicler does not construe the prophetic legislation of Deuteronomy as simply negative in intent. Yahweh not only forbids a range of diviners and mantic behaviours, but he also ensures that there would be a succession of those who would proclaim his word.
\nIn what follows I wish to explore what prophecy is and is not in Chronicles. My discussion is divided into three parts. The first deals with prohibited forms of prophetic behaviour, while the second surveys the wide range of prophets and prophetic figures found in the book. The final section examines the different functions of prophets and prophetic figures in Chronicles.<\/p>\n
2. What They are Not<\/p>\n
Given the complexity of the prophetic phenomenon in the ancient Near East in general and in ancient Israel in particular, it may be easiest to begin with what prophecy is not. The initial exploration into the negative, which covers a wide range of prophetic types and behaviours, may elucidate the explication of the positive. At the outset, it may be said that the problems of divination, augury, necromancy and false prophecy do not animate the Chronicler\u2019s work in the way they do some earlier biblical writings (cf. Deut. 18:20\u201322; Jer. 27:2\u201328:17). The Chronicler\u2019s depiction of the monarchy includes only three negative incidents involving ill-fated royal attempts to procure supernatural counsel, each of which has been derived and adapted from the Chronicler\u2019s Vorlage. In his highly negative, but playful and brief, evaluation of Saul\u2019s reign, the Chronicler alludes to Saul\u2019s downfall (1 Sam. 28:1\u201319), mentioning that Saul (\u05e9\u05d0\u05d5\u05dc) \u2018sought out (\u05dc\u05e9\u05d0\u05d5\u05dc) a ghost for consultation (\u05dc\u05d3\u05e8\u05d5\u05e9)\u2019 (1 Chron. 10:13). Saul \u2018died in his transgression (\u05d1\u05de\u05e2\u05dc\u05d5) by which he transgressed (\u05de\u05e2\u05dc) against Yahweh\u2019 (1 Chron. 10:13). The end of Saul\u2019s tenure, the only part of Saul\u2019s life communicated, thus stands as a negative example of how not to comport oneself in a time of crisis.
\nThe second problematic attempt to procure a divine revelation occurs when the allied kings of Israel and Judah, Ahab and Jehoshaphat, seek out prophetic advice before marching forth in an (unsuccessful) attempt to retake Ramoth-gilead (1 Kgs 22:1\u201338\/\/2 Chron. 18:1\u201334; Str\u00fcbind 1991: 155\u201364; Auld 2000: 23\u201324). Even though the Chronicler includes this story (he includes virtually every northern\u2013southern contact during the divided monarchy), he frames it with his own material. In Kings, the Micaiah account raises profound questions as to what constitutes true prophecy and what Yahweh\u2019s role is in sanctioning, if not authoring, false prophecy, but the story is unique within Chronicles. The book does not include any other narratives about false prophets. Within its literary context, the story serves as a reminder that Judahite pacts with other regimes almost always do more harm than good to the very people the treaties are supposed to protect (Knoppers 1996).
\nThe third irregular attempt to receive a revelation occurs in Manasseh\u2019s reign. Basically following his source, the Chronicler writes that Manasseh practised \u2018soothsaying, divination, and sorcery\u2019 as well as the art of \u2018a ghost and a medium\u2019 (2 Chron. 33:6\/\/2 Kgs 21:6). No other occurrences of divination, sorcery, necromancy or omen seeking occur in Chronicles. It should be noted that the Chronicler neither includes one irregular attempt to procure divine favour found in Kings (2 Kgs 3:4\u201327) nor mentions one of Josiah\u2019s reforms that counters irregular prophecy (2 Kgs 23:24). The relative lack of attention to illicit forms of prophecy is telling. The Chronicler\u2019s interests lie elsewhere. Apart from the three exceptions listed above, the only attempts to procure guidance and divine revelation are conducted through normal means, such as appeals, prayers and supplications. It would seem that the Chronicler\u2019s focus is on the positive. But this does not mean that the Chronicler\u2019s prophets are a homogenous group.<\/p>\n
3. Who and What are They?<\/p>\n
The history of the monarchy is punctuated by an intriguing variety of prophets and prophetic figures. Some are well known from earlier biblical writings, while others, some of whom are anonymous, are unique to Chronicles. Yet others are known from biblical sources, but do not function in the same way as they do in their earlier literary contexts. The prophets are of various types. Many seem to be professional prophets, but some are temporary prophets, who prophesy in response to a certain challenge. To begin with, a number of prophets and one prophetess mentioned in the Deuteronomistic History also make appearances, including Nathan (1 Chron. 17:1\u201315\/\/2 Sam. 7:1\u201316; cf. 1 Kgs 1:22) and Gad (1 Chron. 21:9\u201313, 18\u201319\/\/2 Sam. 24:11\u201313, 18\u201319) in the time of David, Shemaiah (1 Kgs 12:21\u201324\/\/2 Chron. 11:2\u20134) in the time of Rehoboam, Micaiah (1 Kgs 22:8\u201328\/\/2 Chron. 18:4\u201327) in the time of Jehoshaphat, and Huldah (2 Kgs 22:14\u201320\/\/2 Chron. 34:22\u201328) in the time of Josiah. Other prominent figures, such as Samuel, Ahijah, Elijah and Isaiah are mentioned, even though the Deuteronomistic narratives about and the oracles by these sages do not appear in Chronicles. With Samuel, Elijah and Isaiah, new material is added that effectively reshapes their legacies. That there are virtually no prophets appearing in the Deuteronomistic account who do not also appear in Chronicles is one indication of the Chronicler\u2019s sustained interest in the prophetic phenomenon.
\nThere are two additional prophets attested in other biblical books: the archetypal \u2018man of God\u2019 (\u05d0\u05d9\u05e9 \u05d4\u05d0\u05dc\u05d4\u05d9\u05dd) Moses, if Moses is indeed to be considered as a prophet (1 Chron. 23:14; 2 Chron. 30:16), and Jeremiah (2 Chron. 36:12). Indeed, there are two features in the depiction of Judah\u2019s demise that highlight Jeremiah\u2019s contributions. First, Judah\u2019s exile \u2018fulfils the word of Yahweh (spoken) by the mouth of Jeremiah\u2019 (2 Chron. 36:21; cf. Jer. 25:11; 27:7; 29:10). Secondly, the exile\u2019s end announced by Cyrus \u2018completes the word of Yahweh (spoken) through the mouth of Jeremiah\u2019 (2 Chron. 36:22\/\/Ezra 1:1; see Kalimi 2005: 143\u201357). Jeremianic prophecies thus bracket the entire captivity. A time of heralded judgment becomes a time of heralded renewal for God\u2019s people. Other prophets appear as being active in Judah who are unattested elsewhere in biblical writings (Micheel 1983: 71\u201380). These include Azariah the prophet (\u05e0\u05d1\u05d9\u05d0) and Hanani the seer (\u05e8\u05d0\u05d4; 2 Chron. 15:1\u20137; 16:7\u201310), Jehu the visionary (\u05d7\u05d6\u05d4; 2 Chron. 19:2\u20133), various anonymous prophets and men of God (2 Chron. 24:19; 25:7\u20139, 15\u201316; 33:10; 36:15\u201316) and Oded the northern prophet (\u05e0\u05d1\u05d9\u05d0; 2 Chron. 28:9\u201311). There is also a very curious case of Levites functioning in a prophetic capacity within a Temple context. This is not one of the multiple cases of temporary prophecy, which we shall discuss later. Rather, it is an instance in which the members of three phratries of the Levites represented by Asaph, Heman and Jeduthun prophesy, while functioning as musicians under King David (Knoppers 2004b: 843\u201360). The range of prophets, seers and visionaries active during the monarchy is thus quite remarkable.
\nThe rich diversity of the prophetic phenomenon in Chronicles may be seen in another aspect of this composition. The work includes several instances of persons who function in a temporary prophetic capacity, including priests, Levites and evidently laypeople (Mason 1990: 7\u2013140). These include \u2018Zechariah son of Jehoiada the priest\u2019 (2 Chron. 24:20\u201322) and Jehaziel the Levite, a distant descendant of Asaph (2 Chron. 20:14\u201315). As with the prophetic speech of Zechariah, the prophetic speech of Jahaziel includes the messenger formula and is interlaced with quotations from earlier biblical texts (Micheel 1983: 50\u201359; Beentjes 1993; Knoppers 1999). An example of a layperson serving as an ad hoc prophet occurs during the last years of Jehoshaphat, when an otherwise unknown Eliezer ben Dodavahu declaims against the Judaean king (2 Chron. 20:37). From a number of vantage points it is clear that these messages function as genuine prophecies. The presence of the inspiration and messenger formulas in the instances of Zechariah and Jahaziel and the use of the hithpael of \u2018to prophesy\u2019 (\u05e0\u05d1\u05d0) in the instance of Eliezer (2 Chron. 20:37) all point to this conclusion. Moreover, in each case the prophecy proves true in the course of subsequent events (cf. Deut. 18:21\u201322). The point is not that priests, Levites and laypersons are all prophets. Rather, it is that characters who are not prophets may be employed by Yahweh to fulfil (temporarily) the role of prophet for the larger good of the people, if the occasion warrants it (Schniedewind 1995: 31\u2013129; Amit 2006: 84\u201387).
\nWhat all falls under the categories of prophecy and pro tem prophecy is difficult to resolve. If prophecy has to be marked by vocation, the use of a title (e.g. \u2018prophet\u2019, \u2018seer\u2019, \u2018visionary\u2019, \u2018man of God\u2019) would seem to be necessary. If temporary prophecy has to be marked by the use of a specific verb (e.g. \u2018to prophesy\u2019 in the niphal or hithpael), then certain communications cannot be labelled as prophetic. But if one takes a more open-ended approach and understands prophecy as speaking on behalf of the divine realm or communicating the will of God in a given setting, then a number of additional speakers, including some native kings, may be labelled as temporary prophets. Indeed, the category of temporary prophecy may include two foreign kings: Necho (2 Chron. 35:20\u201322) and Cyrus (2 Chron. 36:22\u201323). In each case, a non-Israelite interprets God\u2019s will and expounds the divine word to its intended audience. That the messages delivered by Necho and Cyrus prove efficacious provides one more important indication that the author(s) thought that Israel\u2019s God could work, on occasion, for the good of his people through alien leaders.
\nTo summarize, Chronicles depicts a wide variety of prophets, prophetesses, seers, men of God and visionaries at work in Israelite history. The prophetic work includes both delivering oracles and writing compositions. Many are prophets by vocation, but others are pro tem prophets, who speak on behalf of God to address a need on a certain occasion. These include priests, Levites, laypersons and even foreign monarchs. Professional prophets do not enjoy a monopoly on divine revelation.<\/p>\n
4. What Do They Do?<\/p>\n
The depiction of prophetic behaviour in Chronicles exhibits marks of careful construction and stylization. In serving as tradents of divine speech, seers do not speak by means of an enigmatic proverb or saying (\u05de\u05e9\u05dc; see Auld 2002). Chronistic oracles are usually terse, perfectly intelligible and direct. The medium is most often prose, rather than poetry. Prophets never give bad or ill-timed advice. The counsel may go unheeded or even be spurned, but the recipients cannot claim that the oracles delivered to them were couched in highly veiled, mysterious or ambiguous language. As in Deuteronomy (18:18), prophecy represents a divinely authorized independent institution. Because prophets do God\u2019s bidding, they normally are not summoned by monarchs, leaders, priests, Levites, or the people. Rather, they appear on the scene as the occasion warrants.
\nThere is virtually no criticism of prophets. Kings, priests, Levites and people all come under attack at one point or another, but prophets enjoy a hallowed status. A few monarchs do not like the prophecies they receive and blame the messenger for the message, but it is clear from the contexts in which such royal reactions occur that the monarchs are wrong to do so (e.g. 2 Chron. 16:10; 25:16). Occasionally, the prophets receive praise from unlikely sources\u2014Levitical singers (1 Chron. 16:22\u201323\/\/Ps. 105:15) and Judahite royalty (2 Chron. 20:20). The reworking and supplementation of Isa. 7:9 in 2 Chron. 20:20 highlights the importance of heeding the prophets in both oral and written form (Japhet 1989: 181\u201383; 1993: 796\u201397; Williamson 1982: 33, 299). When the people trust Yahweh\u2019s prophets, they trust Yahweh himself.
\nSince the Chronicler wrote probably some time in the late Persian or early Hellenistic period, it may be useful to compare his notions of prophecy with those found in earlier biblical literature. Most of the major prophetic functions follow the Mosaic pattern spelled out in Deuteronomy. Indeed, the presentation of prophecy is, in some respects, closer to Deuteronomy than is the presentation of Samuel-Kings. The resonance with Deuteronomy is all the more striking because the Chronicler draws heavily on Samuel-Kings.
\nWhen describing the prophetic phenomenon, Chronicles does not normally speak of schools of prophets, professional prophetic training, prophetic membership within a certain Israelite tribe or of prophetic bloodlines within a given tribal phratry. Information about the tribe to which a given prophet belongs is not furnished to the reader, unless that prophetic figure happens to be a Levite. There is one case in which both a father (Hanani) and a son (Jehu) prophesy in successive generations (2 Chron. 16:7\u201310; 19:1\u20133; 20:34), but otherwise prophets come and go. There are no prophetic commissioning narratives in the work.
\nThe biblical writer is not concerned with biography (cf. 1 Kgs 17\u20132 Kgs 8) and includes only scant details about his prophets. In line with Deuteronomy, prophets mediate God\u2019s word (Deut. 18:16), but bear the unusual title, \u2018His messengers\u2019 (\u05de\u05dc\u05d0\u05db\u05d9\u05d5, 2 Chron. 36:15). The point is the communications of the seers and not their private lives (Japhet 1989: 176\u201391). That there are so many anonymous prophets would seem to bear this out. The medium is not the message; the message is the message. One of the roles that Samuel, Elijah and Elisha play in Samuel-Kings is that of intercessor for the people, but this prophetic role is rare in Chronicles (2 Chron. 32:20). In Chronicles it is the task of kings as representatives of the body politic to intercede on behalf of the people. The prophet\u2019s mediatory relationship is basically unidirectional\u2014to deliver God\u2019s word to its intended addressees.
\nThe verbal nature of the prophetic task is evident in another way. Unlike Elijah and Elisha in the book of Kings, seers in Chronicles do not initiate any miracles. Their role is to communicate a message from the divine sphere to king or people. There are a couple of reported prophetic visions (1 Chron. 17:1\u201315; 2 Chron. 18:4\u201327), but both are borrowed from Samuel-Kings. There is a symbolic action performed by the prophet Zedekiah before Ahab and Jehoshaphat, but Zedekiah is a sycophant to the northern king (1 Kgs 22:11\/\/2 Chron. 18:10). The Chronicler\u2019s own prophets perform no signs, wonders, symbolic actions or portents. When Elijah prophesies in Chronicles, he writes a letter. When Isaiah appears in Chronicles, he does not perform a sign for Hezekiah (cf. 2 Kgs 20:1\u201311). Rather, God himself gives Hezekiah a sign (2 Chron. 32:24).
\nThat prophecy may involve charisma is evident in the narration of David\u2019s early rise, when \u2018a spirit enveloped Amasai, \u2018commander of the officers\u2019, who declared:<\/p>\n
We are yours, O David,
\nWe are with you, O Son of Jesse.
\nPeace, peace be to you,
\nAnd peace to the one who supports you,
\nFor your God supports you. (1 Chron. 12:19)<\/p>\n
The employment of the possession formula affords to Amasai\u2019s words a kind of prophetic status, but the spirit has a verbal, rather than a physical, effect. Amasai does not enter a state of divine madness or display any frenzied activity. He simply proclaims that David\u2019s ascent to power is divinely ordained and endorsed by all Israelites. The reference to spirit possession is not unique (e.g. 2 Chron. 20:15\u201317; 24:20), but in each case the inspiration leads to the proclamation of an oracle and not to any ecstatic or mantic behaviour.
\nProphecies reach two audiences: the monarch and the people. As in Samuel-Kings, prophets speak to sovereigns as rulers of the body politic. The emphasis on the critical role played by the monarch comports with ancient Near Eastern royal ideology in which monarchs are representatives, even personal embodiments, of the states they lead. Among the many prophecies directed toward potentates are blissful predictions about the future reign of a king, the construction of the Temple, and the establishment of David\u2019s royal dynasty (e.g. 1 Chron. 11:2, 3, 10; 12:19; 17:1\u201315). In other cases, the message is not so welcome. Seers refuse to sanction wars (2 Chron. 18:4\u201327), lambaste arrogance (2 Chron. 16:7\u201310) and assail idolatry (2 Chron. 25:15\u201316). As a divinely ordained institution, prophecy thus limits the excess and abuse of royal power, reminding monarchs that they reign \u2018to serve a greater will than their own\u2019 (Welch 1939: 52).
\nChronistic prophets generally hold monarchs to broader standards than Deuteronomistic prophets do. The authors of Exod. 23:32; 34:12\u201316 and Deut. 7:1\u20136 unequivocally oppose Israel\u2019s ratifying alliances with foreign nations. In line with such legal and prophetic (Hos. 7:10\u201313; 8:9\u201310; Isa. 20; 28:14\u201328; 30:1\u20135; Jer. 2:14\u201319, 33\u201337) concerns, the Chronicler\u2019s prophets protest against virtually any form of Realpolitik that involves compromising militarily, commercially and politically with Judah\u2019s neighbours (e.g. 2 Chron. 16:7\u201310; 18:1\u201319:3; 20:35\u201337; see Knoppers 1991; Str\u00fcbind 1991: 154\u201372). Even Judahite pacts with Israel are regarded as acts of infidelity (Knoppers 1996).
\nThe other audience for oracles is basically popular in nature. In line with the Deuteronomic focus on the prophet as a divinely ordained mouthpiece of Yahweh, prophets confront kings and people together or the people by themselves (e.g. 2 Chron. 24:19\u201322; 28:9\u201311). Chronicles rectifies the perceived discrepancy between the ideal in biblical law and the presentation in Samuel-Kings by holding both the people and their leaders accountable for their actions (Japhet 1989: 417\u201328). The Chronicler thereby attributes a significant responsibility to the people in determining the fate of their nation.
\nIn addressing king and people alike, the prophets sometimes draw from, explicate and reapply prestigious texts. So, for instance, Jehaziel\u2019s address to Jehoshaphat and the people quotes from and blends 1 Sam. 17:47 (2 Chron. 20:15) and Exod. 14:13 (2 Chron. 20:17). Willi (1972), Fishbane (1985), Day (1988), Mason (1990: 124\u201339) and others have commented on the intertextual nature of much post-exilic prophecy. Older texts are reinterpreted, supplemented and actualized in new settings. Many, but by no means all, of the oracles appearing in the Sondergut of Chronicles fit into this general pattern. The expository features of Chronistic prophecies have been studied in great detail, so the topic does not need to be revisited here. Suffice it to say that the Chronicler views both written texts and their inspired exegesis as formative in history.
\nConsistent with the portrayal of prophets in Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic History, one of the prophetic functions is to forecast the future. In Samuel-Kings, the prophecy\/fulfilment schema punctuates the era of the monarchy. So also in Chronicles, prophecy\/fulfilment is an important motif, demonstrating the efficacy of the divine word in history. In many cases, prophecies pronounce (or confirm) a divine judgment (e.g. 1 Chron. 21:9\u201312; 2 Chron. 12:5; 16:7\u20139; 18:16, 18\u201322; 19:2\u20133; 20:37; 21:12\u201315; 24:20; 25:16; 34:22\u201325), but prophecy does not operate, for the most part, mechanically. God is a strong actor in history, yet history is not deterministic because of such divine involvement. The Israelite people and their leaders, as well as other peoples and their leaders, are also players in the same historical arena.
\nProphets also play constructive and pedagogical roles. Seers encourage the populace in the face of a foreign invasion (2 Chron. 20:14\u201317), praise humility (2 Chron. 12:5\u20138) and provide instruction in the art of theopolitics (2 Chron. 16:7\u201310). The dispatch of a prophet to visit a monarch and his people has a beneficial effect on several occasions. The point of such encounters is to advise the monarch and the people and to steer them away from embarking on any self-destructive actions. One example will illustrate. During Asa\u2019s early reign, \u2018the spirit came upon Azariah son of Oded\u2019, who prophesied to the king \u2018and all Judah and Benjamin\u2019 (2 Chron. 15:1). At this point in his tenure, Asa had done no wrong. Quite the contrary, he had just routed Zerah the Cushite and his forces (2 Chron. 14:8\u201314). Azariah\u2019s point is, however, not to lambaste Asa, but to encourage humility and steadfastness in the wake of a most impressive military victory (2 Chron. 15:1\u20137): \u2018Hear me, O Asa and all Judah and Benjamin: Yahweh is with you when you are with him. And if you seek (\u05d3\u05e8\u05e9) him, he will be found by you. But if you abandon (\u05e2\u05d6\u05d1) him, he will abandon (\u05e2\u05d6\u05d1) you\u2019 (2 Chron. 15:2; see Beentjes 2001). Hence, Azariah\u2019s address may be categorized as well-timed, instructive advice meant to help the king and people make good decisions.
\nOther successful prophetic interventions include unnamed seers (e.g. 2 Chron. 25:6\u20139) and even northern prophets (2 Chron. 28:8\u201315). In some cases, the negative effects of a divine judgment are tempered or postponed in connection with the positive reaction of a monarch and his people (e.g. 2 Chron. 11:3\u20134; 12:7\u20138, 12; 19:1\u20133; 34:26\u201328). Perhaps the most famous example is the amelioration of the divine pestilence announced by Gad and implemented throughout Israel and Judah in response to David\u2019s census (1 Chron. 21:1\u201322:1; see Knoppers 1995). The abject repentance displayed by David and the elders in response to the plague is underscored by the Chronicler and may function paradigmatically to model how one should respond to disasters of one\u2019s own making (1 Chron. 21:13\u201317).
\nNot all offers of divine mercy meet with success. Before Yahweh unleashes the Assyrian commanders to capture and deport Manasseh to Babylon, \u2018Yahweh spoke to Manasseh and to his people, but they did not listen\u2019 (2 Chron. 33:10). The theme of Yahweh sending prophets to caution his errant people to mend their ways is prominent in the Chronistic comment on Judah\u2019s fall. There, one reads that although Yahweh sent his messengers to stir the people and priestly leaders to reform, because he felt compassion for them and for his dwelling-place, his prophets\u2019 admonitions were derided and disdained (2 Chron. 36:14\u201316). In stressing Yahweh\u2019s many efforts to warn his people, the writer only summarizes what he has already narrated in his portrayal of the past.<\/p>\n
5. Conclusions: The End of Prophecy or the Transformation of Prophecy?<\/p>\n
Some have spoken of the Persian period as the end of prophecy or as the beginning of the transition from prophecy to apocalyptic. One or the other may be true, but Chronicles does not offer positive confirmation of either proposition. The Chronicler\u2019s work is populated by a wide variety of prophetic figures and prophetic forms. Prophecy appears as a powerful cultural force in Israelite history. Accentuating the positive, the author affirms that a whole range of people\u2014professional and non-professional, native and foreign\u2014were employed by Yahweh to speak to Israel. The importance of the prophetic impact on society is enhanced, rather than diminished, by its diffusion through a variety of conduits. As messengers, the prophets are one means whereby Yahweh perpetuates the distinctive attributes of Israelite religion throughout the generations.
\nTo be sure, the question about the demise of prophecy is difficult to address, given that the Chronicler wrote about the monarchical age. Because of the heavily stylized nature of the Chronistic narrative, it is difficult to know how much his portrayal reflects the circumstances of the writer\u2019s own time and how much it reflects his own views of the past. To speak of contemporary prophecy in the Chronicler\u2019s own time, based on his portrayal of the past, is inevitably a speculative enterprise. Yet, one would think that the Chronicler would not place such a stress on the prophetic phenomenon in Judah in continuity with the promise of Yahweh to appoint successors to Moses in Deuteronomy, if he thought that such a phenomenon had come to a definitive end. What would be the point of positing so many prophets and prophetic voices in Judah\u2019s past, if the prophets had long disappeared from Yehud? It may be, therefore, more productive to think of new developments in and transformations of traditional prophecy, rather than of the downfall and termination of prophecy altogether.
\nThe different forms prophecy takes in the Chronistic depiction of the past may provide some clues about the kinds of prophetic activity that were occurring in his own time, as well as the types of prophecy he commends to his readers. The diversity is quite striking. There is a certain amount of democratization or diffusion in the means by which Yahweh speaks. The Levites prophesy while functioning as musicians, thus attesting to the phenomenon of cultic prophecy associated with the Jerusalem Temple. In addition to public speeches and Temple music, prophecy may take written form. Prophecy as written text is no less prophetic than is prophecy as oral declamation. The inspired exposition and explication of scripture also appears as a form of prophecy. God may speak through the exegesis and application of the written word by an authoritative interpreter. God continues to deliver his word, but does so employing a variety of speakers, contexts and forms. Indeed, the Chronicler may have thought of his own writing as participating in this larger interpretative prophetic tradition. In a work written many centuries after Chronicles, one reads a statement attributed to the apostles Barnabas and Paul that \u2018He [God] has not left himself without a witness\u2019 (Acts 14:17). When applied to the presentation of prophecy in Chronicles, one might want to emend this statement to: \u2018God does not leave himself without many witnesses.\u2019<\/p>\n
PROPHECY AND THE NEW TESTAMENT<\/p>\n
Christopher Rowland<\/p>\n
1. Introduction<\/p>\n
The New Testament is about prophecy from beginning to end, from the way in which Matthew looks back to the authoritative prophecy to authenticate Jesus\u2019 birth in Mt. 1:23, to the experience of John on an Aegean island, who spoke in the language of the prophets of old, and described how he was called to be a prophet to \u2018peoples, languages and nations\u2019 (Rev. 10; cf. Aune 1983). There are contrasting understandings of prophecy in these two passages. Though it is not as pervasive as is often alleged, the sense of obligation, which drove early Christian writers to relate ancient prophecy, and other scriptures, to their convictions about Jesus Christ and their own experience, is a feature of the New Testament. In this respect it has its analogues in contemporary Jewish writings. The Teacher of Righteousness in the Habakkuk Commentary from the Dead Sea Scrolls, for example, offered the definitive meaning of prophetic texts long shrouded in obscurity. John\u2019s prophetic text is rather different, however. It is full of allusions to the biblical prophets, but not to prove the authenticity of their prophecy. Those books offered him the language for his own prophecy as ancient words and images were reminted and indeed reformed in a new prophetic message. This is less an interpretation, therefore, than a word for his day, which needs no authorization other than its visionary authentication, in which the original words are transcended, perhaps even to be replaced, or at least supplemented, by the new prophecy.
\nWhere does prophecy in the New Testament fit into the picture offered by the Hebrew Bible? The one prophetic book\u2014the Apocalypse\u2014is a vision, and to that extent resembles the earlier biblical visionary texts, such as Isaiah 6 and Ezekiel 1, but only in the first chapter does it resemble biblical prophecy where the prophet is the medium of the divine words. Here the heavenly Son of Man, described in words similar to those used to describe the angel in Daniel 10, commands John to write what he hears and sees in a book and to send it to the seven churches of Asia. In so doing, John overhears the words directed to the angels of the churches before the book\u2019s more explicitly visionary passages, which are more akin to Ezekiel 40\u201348 and Daniel 7. In the New Testament, prophets are less communicators of divine words than divine agents, though words of warning and prediction are to be found (Acts 21:11). The New Testament picture focuses more on the prophets than the prophecy and is more akin to the stories told about the lives of the prophets such as Elijah and Jeremiah. The former is explicitly linked with John the Baptist (Mt. 14:5; 17:14) and the latter is cited in the answer given by Peter to Jesus to the question he puts about his identity (Mt. 16:14). Thus, we shall see that prophecy is different, or variegated, but like what we find in the Old Testament including words of warning, prediction, as well as critical critique, with that same enigmatic character of its biblical antecedents. But, the Apocalypse of John apart, which tells us little about the prophet, the actual lives of the prophets become a significant part of the medium of their message.
\nThe prophetic charisma imbued early Christianity with a sense (to use a phrase of Karl Mannheim) of being part of a \u2018propitious moment\u2019 in the divine economy. What the New Testament authors wrote about is the way ancient prophets relate to the present generation and how the key actors in the divine drama, to which they bear witness, are themselves imbued with a sense of vocation and special charisma imitating, and indeed transcending, the prophets of old. Something special was happening which both linked with the past and set apart the present. This may be discerned in the Gospel of Luke, which exhibits that sense of the present being a time of fulfilment, an auspicious time: \u2018Then turning to the disciples, Jesus said to them privately, \u201cBlessed are the eyes that see what you see! For I tell you that many prophets and kings desired to see what you see, but did not see it, and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it\u201d \u2019 (Lk. 10:23\u201324; cf. 1 Pet. 1:10\u201312).
\nOf all the texts in the New Testament relating to prophecy, Acts 2:17 as well as any encapsulates the view that prophecy is in some sense not just \u2018fulfilled\u2019 but actually renewed, and indeed, restarted. In the quotation from Joel in Peter\u2019s speech on the Day of Pentecost, Joel 3:1\u20135 (ET 2:28\u201332) is quoted. The introduction \u2018in the last days\u2019 sets the tone for the significance of what is happening and marks the moment as eschatological. Even if the speech is in foreign tongues, it is understood by the cosmopolitan audience and its theological import is explained by reference to the distinctive quotation of Joel. In rabbinic sources there is some evidence that the return of the Holy Spirit to the people of God was considered to be a mark that the new age had in fact dawned. In a passage such as t. So\u1e6dah 13.3, the prophetic Spirit had departed from Israel with the last of the prophets to return \u2018in the last days\u2019. Such a belief was probably based on such passages as Deut. 18:15 and Mal. 3:23 (ET 4:5; cf. Mk 8:28). Whether or not this was widespread, or represents the learned elite\u2019s attempt to confine the activity of the divine Spirit to the eschatological events and thereby implicitly undermines any claim to prophetic wisdom in this age, is a matter of debate. Some early Christians seem to have regarded prophecy as a mark of the return of the eschatological Spirit and as such a key element in what constituted their identity. The sources are varied. Indeed, in one text, the Gospel of Luke, we find the idea of an ongoing prophetic experience sitting alongside the belief in the climactic prophetic moment with John the Baptist and Jesus (cf. Lk. 7:28; 16:16).
\nProphecy and its effects are everywhere in the New Testament, so that it becomes very difficult to disentangle it from the other strands of early Christian experience. Yet to make this essay manageable it is essential to do that. The Synoptic witness to Jesus will be considered along with the, albeit muted, echoes of a sense of prophetic vocation in the Pauline understanding of his apostolate. The second part of this essay consists of a more detailed analysis of aspects of prophecy in the Johannine corpus, where the ambivalence towards prophecy sits alongside the clear enunciation of its importance and the actualization of that in a prophetic text, commanded to be seen and written about by the heavenly Christ. As with prophecy in the Old Testament, the New Testament Apocalypse is both part of, and is itself a fountainhead of, an important stream of political discourse in Christian theology and no account of it as a prophetic book would be complete without it. Like the prophetic words in the Old Testament its words have their effect, even though, more often than not, they are pictures in words, whether in the clarity of their demand or the bafflement at its enigmas. In this latter respect I will suggest the Gospel of John is similar.<\/p>\n
2. The Synoptic Gospels and Acts<\/p>\n
There are different strands of the Synoptic evidence which point different ways on this. Thus, the Synoptic eschatological discourses may be more foretelling than the forthtelling we find in Mt. 5:21\u201348. The complex of traditions associated with the prophet, rooted as it is in the Torah (Deut. 18:15\u201322; cf. Acts 3:22) and in prophetic pronouncements, is of great importance for understanding the figure of Jesus. The visionary revelation as the basis of authority, the tradition of rejection and suffering, the hints that this suffering might be vicarious, and above all the eschatological character of both Spirit and prophecy, indicate how many themes converge on prophecy.
\nThe Gospels record that Jesus saw a close link between himself and John in his understanding of his ministry. The two different approaches of God\u2019s messengers are both rejected (Lk. 7:32), and in their different ways indicate the importance of the baptism of John. Indeed, John is described as a prophet, the like of which there has not been among those \u2018born of women\u2019 (Lk. 7:28), and the baptism of John is evoked in a discussion about Jesus\u2019 authority (Mk 11:30). In Lk. 7:28 John is indeed a prophet but also \u2018more than a prophet\u2019. That is, there is something special about his eschatological role which sets him apart from those like Zechariah who prophesied (Lk. 1:67) and others before John (Lk. 16:16). Thereby John is set apart as the prophet like Elijah, of unique eschatological importance (Mt. 11:10; Lk. 7:26\u201327; Mal. 3:23, ET 4:5; cf. Lk. 1:17).
\nJesus\u2019 own call seems to have depended on heavenly acclamation (Mk 1:11; cf. 11:27\u201333). In this prophetic-type call there is an echo of Ezek. 1:1 in Mk 1:10, and he is presented as believing that he had been commissioned by God to speak and act in the way he did. The baptism accounts have affinities with the call-experiences of such prophets as Isaiah, Ezekiel and Second Isaiah (Isa. 6:1; 42:1; 61:1; Ezek. 1:1). Indeed, Mark\u2019s version presents it as a personal experience, in which a vision of the Spirit and a divine voice proclaim the nature of his relationship with God. His speech resembles the authoritative divine pronouncement of the prophets, \u2018Thus says the Lord\u2019, prefaced as it is with the solemn \u2018Truly, truly I say to you\u2019. While the methods of scribal interpretation of scripture as set out in Sirach 38 may be found in the Jesus tradition, that sense of one acting with authority, \u2018not as the scribes\u2019 (Mk 1:22), is prevalent throughout. There is a sense in which the authority claim attributed to Jesus goes beyond the \u2018prophetic\u2019 category. The \u2018thus says the Lord\u2019 of the prophets is almost an exact parallel to the authority claims of Jesus in the Gospels. Nevertheless, it is striking that one does not get the stereotyped formula in the Gospels.
\nElsewhere, inspiration by the Spirit is important (Mt. 12:28; Mk 3:28\u201329, though the Luke parallel in Lk. 11:20 does not mention the Spirit; cf. Acts 10:38). The account peculiar to Luke of Jesus\u2019 preaching in the synagogue in Capernaum (Lk. 4:16\u201330) is based on the fulfilment of Isaiah 61. Other material in the Gospels seems to indicate that Jesus thought of himself as a prophet, which lends greatest weight to the view that he was inspired by the Spirit (Mt. 12:39; 13:57; Lk. 13:33\u201334). He was thought to be a prophet by his contemporaries, as certain reports about reaction to Jesus indicate (Mt. 21:11; 26:68; Lk. 7:16; 24:19; Jn 1:45; 6:14; 7:40; 9:17). Indeed, it is significant that at his trial Jesus is asked to prophesy by the soldiers (Mk 14:65), though it should be pointed out that in Mt. 26:68\/Lk. 22:64, \u2018prophesy\u2019 seems to mean \u2018tell us who hit you\u2019.
\nLike the biblical prophets, Jesus challenges his generation and places himself in the long line of prophets who have done the same (Lk. 11:49\u201351), and, like Elijah and Jeremiah, he is rejected by his contemporaries (Mk 6:4; cf. Jer. 15:10; 20:7\u201318; Lk. 4:24; Jn 4:44). Indeed, arguably, the journey to Jerusalem represents the heart of a sense of prophetic vocation, if Luke is anything to go by: \u2018Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem. Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!\u2019 (Lk. 13:33\u201334). (On the suffering of the prophets see also Mt. 5:12; 23:29\u201338; Rom. 11:3; 1 Thess. 2:15.) The theme of the rejection of the prophets is important and is part of the oldest layers of the Gospel tradition, as Q scholarship has shown (Tuckett 1996). Whether Jesus regarded himself as fulfilling the role of the figure prophesied in Isaiah 53 is not as clear as might appear. With the exception of Lk. 22:37 (cf. Mt. 12:17\u201321), there is no explicit quotation from Isaiah on the lips of Jesus and the explicit quotations of it in the New Testament are notoriously few in number (Acts 8:32\u201333; 1 Pet. 2:22).
\nA theme that makes only an isolated appearance in the Synoptic Gospels, but which is very frequent in the Gospel of John (and as we shall see is important in the Pauline letters), is that of Jesus as the emissary of God (e.g. Jn 7:16; 12:44\u201345). In Lk. 10:16, Jesus speaks of himself as the one sent by God. The institution of agency in the Jewish sources concerns a situation where an individual is sent by another to act on the sender\u2019s behalf: an agent is like the sender with the latter\u2019s full authority (Mekilta Exod. 12:3; cf. m. Berakot 5.5; see Borgen 1997). Thus, to deal with the agent is to deal with the sender, as we see, for example, in Sifre on Num. 12:8: \u2018With what is the matter to be compared? With a king of flesh and blood who has an agent in the country. The inhabitants spoke before him. Then said the king to them, You have not spoken concerning my servant but concerning me.\u2019 This is a theme which is important in the Gospel of John and also may underlie Paul\u2019s sense of his vocation as an apostle.
\nA word or two needs to be said about the historical Jesus. In offering a summary in a survey essay of this kind my primary focus would be in terms of Mannheim\u2019s categories of the chiliastic mentality. By this he means the way \u2018the absolute interferes with the world and conditions actual events\u2019 (Mannheim 1960: 192; cf. 192\u201398). In theological terms, what Mannheim sets out is a description of a realized eschatology at work, in which hopes for a changed world are set in the context of the present, and are not just articles of faith to be asserted. Instead, they pervade thought and action and disrupt patterns of behaviour and relating, which is what we find in the ethos of earliest Christianity. It is a view epitomized by the saying, only extant in Luke\u2019s Gospel, in which Jesus says, \u2018I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem\u2019 (Lk. 13:33).
\nI touched on Acts briefly at the beginning of this essay. The programmatic promise in Acts about the prophetic Spirit inspiring men and women is an important theme of Acts. Prophets such as Agabus and the daughters of Philip are mentioned, but the prophetic experience of key players in the narrative is even more significant. The threefold telling of Paul\u2019s conversion (Acts 9; 22; 26) sets apocalyptic vision as a motor of divine providence. Also important is the account of the events leading up to Peter\u2019s preaching to Cornelius in Acts 10. Hidden in the story is a guide to the workings of the prophetic Spirit, and a reminder that throughout early Christianity there is a warning not to be misled by false prophets (cf. Mt. 7:22; 24:11; 1 Tim. 4:1; 1 Jn 4:1). Luke\u2019s account of Peter\u2019s vision differs from other apocalyptic visions, for example, the visions in the second half of the book of Daniel. There is no angelic interpretation of the meaning of the vision. Peter may initially be left at a loss as he is confronted with the need to make sense of what has appeared to him (Acts 10:19). Later in the chapter (Acts 10:28), however, he makes a link between clean and unclean food and clean and unclean persons. Thus Peter appears to have drawn the conclusion that if he is allowed in the heavenly vision to eat anything without discrimination he might also be obliged to regard all human persons in the same way (cf. Acts 10:34). Here a visionary applies his reason to the understanding of his prophetic experience. It was a test that was to become a criterion in the Pauline corpus, where the spirits of the prophets are subject to the prophets (1 Cor. 14:32), and where there was a growing suspicion of ecstasy, particularly in reaction to Montanism.
\nThe problematic character of resort to appeals to direct divine inspiration is a feature of both emerging Christianity and Judaism. There is a famous story in b. Baba Metzia 59a (Rowland 1982: 307; 2002: 208, 267; Alexander 1995), in which, despite the approbation of heaven, the teaching of the eccentric Eliezer ben Hyrcanus is persistently rejected in favour of the majority opinion:<\/p>\n
It has been taught: On that day R. Eliezer brought forward every imaginable argument, but they did not accept them. Said he to them: \u2018If the halakah [i.e. the correct interpretation of the Jewish law] agrees with me, let this carob-tree prove it\u2019. Thereupon the carob-tree was torn a hundred cubits out of its place \u2026 No proof can be brought from a carob-tree, they retorted. Again he said to them: \u2018If the halakah agrees with me, let the streams of water prove it\u2019. Whereupon the streams of water flowed backward. \u2018No proof can be brought from a stream of water\u2019, they rejoined. Again he urged: \u2018If the halakah agrees with me, let the walls of the school-house prove it\u2019, whereupon the walls inclined to fall. But R. Joshua rebuked them saying: \u2018When scholars are engaged in a halakic dispute, what have ye to interfere?\u2019 Hence they did not fall, in honour of R. Joshua, nor did they become upright, in honour of R. Eliezer; and they are still standing thus inclined. Again he said to them: \u2018If the halakah agrees with me, let it be proved from heaven\u2019. Whereupon a heavenly voice cried out: \u2018Why do ye dispute with R. Eliezer, seeing that in all matters the halakah agrees with him?\u2019 \u2026 But R. Joshua arose and exclaimed \u2018it is not in heaven\u2019. What did he mean by this?\u2014Said R. Jeremiah: That the Torah had already been given at Mount Sinai; we pay no attention to a Heavenly Voice, because Thou hast long since written in the Torah at Mount Sinai, After the majority must one incline. (b. Baba Metzia 59a)<\/p>\n
In this story (much embellished and whose historicity is not material to the point being discussed), even in those cases where a particular teacher could claim all kinds of miraculous vindications for the teaching which he adopted, that position must be viewed with considerable scepticism and indeed be rejected, if it did not coincide with the opinion of the majority of the rabbis.
\nDespite the importance of visions and dreams for earliest Christianity, the later Acts account of Christian origins subtly indicates that those, which deserve to be given attention, are those of apostles including Paul. The author has every confidence that the voice of God is to be heard in the experience of those heroes of Christian origins. This is not surprising, not only because the writer can, with the benefit of hindsight, have confidence that the movement is of God (cf. Acts 5:39) but also because his record of the significant role of the heavenly vision is used with discrimination.
\nThere are those, apart from apostles and other \u2018authorized\u2019 persons, who have dreams and visions as part of the providential work of God. Luke wants to demonstrate the divine approbation of the movement which he seeks to promote as Josephus did with the destruction of Jerusalem, which was predicted by supernatural signs (War 6.288). So, it is not just history which proves that Christianity is of God (cf. Acts 5:39) but supernatural validation. While the conversion of Cornelius shows that the divine Spirit cannot be controlled by human intervention, the pattern of its transmission has certain norms of expectation. Normally, therefore, it is not ordinary people who receive visions, and there is little sense that anyone could come along with an \u2018apocalypse\u2019 as contemplated by 1 Cor. 14:26, or claim to be an authoritative prophet like the Montanists in the mid-second century and claim the inspiration of the Spirit, without apostolic approval (notwithstanding the occasional reference to such prophets as Agabus and the prophet daughters of Philip). Indeed, the dialectic between Agabus\u2019s prophecy and Paul\u2019s interpretation over the latter\u2019s visit to Jerusalem (Acts 21:12\u201314) suggests that, notwithstanding the accuracy of the prophecy (as events subsequently proved), the implied warning that Paul should not go (which Paul had already heard through the Spirit in 21:4), which Paul\u2019s friends heard in the words, did not override the judgment (and the determination) of the apostle to maintain his conviction, thereby overriding the prophetic voice. After all, while Balaam could utter correct prophecy (Num. 24:17), he was above all remembered for leading Israel astray (Num. 25:1; cf. Jude 11; Rev. 2:14; on the struggle between prophets, see Rev. 2:20). As in Didache 11, the words of the prophets by themselves were never enough without the actions of the prophets and the effects of their words being regarded as leading to lives lived according to the will of God.
\nTo put it in the language of 1 Corinthians, the spirits of the prophets are always subject to the prophets. In this respect, Acts parallels the situation reflected in the Mishnah (m. \u1e24agigah 2.1), where it is assumed that many are engaged in visionary experience, but where there is a concerted attempt by the rabbis to ensure that, as far as possible, this involvement is restricted to those with the intellectual wherewithal to deal with it. The evidence of Acts is another form of the routinization of charisma that we shall see in 1 Corinthians 14.<\/p>\n
3. The Pauline Letters<\/p>\n
Paul\u2019s most outspoken letter, that to the Galatians, evinces the prophetic character of the apostle to the Gentiles most clearly. Not only is there the uncompromising assertion of the rejection of human tradition in favour of the commission from the divine at the very outset, but his own experience is the measure of hermeneutical judgment and the necessary context for the subsequent engagement with his ancestral scriptures (Gal. 3\u20134). In the language used to describe Paul\u2019s conversion in Galatians (Gal. 1:12\u201316; Acts 9; 22; 26), Paul draws on prophetic passages like Isa. 49:1 and Jer. 1:4\u20135. What is more, his sense of himself is an agent of God, a shalia\u1e25, with a distinctive role in the divine economy. \u2018Whom shall I send and who will go for us?\u2019, God had asked of the heavenly court as Isaiah in the Temple described his vocation to be an emissary. To be a prophetic emissary is key to Paul\u2019s self-understanding. Like Jeremiah, his sufferings are part of his lot as the divine agent (1 Cor. 4), though he relates this closely to identification with the suffering messiah (2 Cor. 4:10; cf. Col. 1:24).
\nWhat is lacking in Paul\u2019s writings is the distinctive \u2018Thus says the Lord\u2019 familiar from biblical prophecy. Rather, Paul looks back to another decisive figure, Christ, whose agent Paul is (Gal. 1:1\u20134), and, even more significantly, in whom Christ dwells (Gal. 2:20), though that indwelling of the divine is not only the prerogative of the prophet, as Romans 8 and 1 Corinthians 2 make clear. While there is no doubt about the importance attached to Paul\u2019s words and an expectation that they will have their effect (1 Cor. 5:3), there is a more apologetic tone in defence of his authority; for example, in 1 Cor. 7:25 he gives his opinion as one who by the Lord\u2019s mercy is to be trusted. There is less careful enunciation in what is probably Paul\u2019s earliest letter, Galatians, where Paul may suggest the portentous character of the words of a letter written in his own hand (Gal. 6:11), though these words are buttressed with defensive and exegetical argument.
\nPaul seems to have had the conviction that he had been set apart as the apostle to the Gentiles, commissioned by the Messiah himself to preach the good news to the nations (Gal. 1:16). This was part of Paul\u2019s eschatological belief, at the heart of which were the resurrection of Jesus and the presence of the Spirit, both of which are anticipations of the age to come. The present \u2018in-between\u2019 stage is itself marked as an eschatological time. Paul can tell the Corinthians that they are the ones \u2018upon whom the end of the age has come\u2019 (1 Cor. 10:11). One sign of this is that believers now taste of the Holy Spirit (1 Cor. 12:13; cf. Heb. 6:4). Paul regarded the Spirit as itself a mark of the presence of the new age. It is \u2018the first fruits\u2019, the seal placed in the hearts of believers as a guarantee (Rom. 8:23; cf. 2 Cor. 1:22; Eph. 1:14).
\nThe return of the Spirit coincided with an outburst of prophetic activity, and such activity was certainly characteristic of the Pauline communities (Rom. 12:6; 1 Cor. 12\u201314; 1 Thess. 5:19; cf. Eph. 4:11; Acts 11:28). Like the book of Revelation, which marks the breaking in of the last things with the presence of the prophetic witness (Rev. 10\u201311; 19:10), Paul and his churches experienced the revival of the gift of prophecy, a sign that the promises of God were being fulfilled (though a major theme of 1 Corinthians is to challenge the preoccupation with realized eschatological fulfilment [1 Cor. 4:8]).
\nThe emphasis in 1 Corinthians 13 is on the time of perfection as still future, when prophecy will be obsolete. Prophecy is a sign of the present \u2018in between stage\u2019 in which those on whom the end of the age has come (1 Cor. 10:11) find themselves. As such, prophecy marks a sign of a new age but is not itself the mark of perfection (that is what the language about \u2018down payment\u2019 [2 Cor. 1:22] in connection with the Spirit, implies). In 1 Cor. 13:12, perfection is seeing face to face. Words and hearing are replaced by vision and sight. The problem with words (and indeed biblical prophecy exemplifies this) is that they are obscure. The riddle of the prophetic oracle is nowhere better seen than in the Immanuel oracle in Isaiah 7. The contrast between words and vision is found also in the Apocalypse of John (cf. 1 Jn 3:2), where what is seen is preferred to what is heard (Rev. 5:5\u20136) and the ultimate is \u2018seeing God face to face\u2019 (Rev. 22:4). The meeting for worship is characterized by prophetic spontaneity (albeit constrained with the apostle\u2019s demand for ecclesial uniformity, 1 Cor. 14:34): prophecy, visions, revelations and hymns, all contributed by different members of the community (14:26). Even women, if properly attired, may participate in the prayer and prophecy of the meeting (11:5, 13). In a church such as that at Corinth, where glossolalia was particularly prized as a sign of participation in the language of the angels (cf. 1 Cor. 13:1), Paul stresses the importance of prophecy, particularly as the norm of communication between divine and human, for when someone speaks in the language of angels, another must interpret and thereby enable understanding of the deep things of God (cf. 1 Cor. 2:10\u201316). This is open to all in the Spirit-filled community and is a major means of comprehending the nature of the divine will, whose activity should never be inhibited (1 Thess. 5:19). But being inspired by the Spirit is no ecstatic activity (notwithstanding what Paul tells us about his own experience in 2 Cor. 12:2\u20134), as the spirits of the prophets are subject to the prophets themselves (1 Cor. 14:32). Understanding and reason trump the spontaneous action of the Spirit, therefore! Indeed, what we see in 1 Corinthians 14 is the charismatic leader himself \u2018routinizing the charisma\u2019 and enabling his fellow charismatics not only to attend to their relationship with those outsiders who may attend the Spirit-filled worship (14:22\u201325), but also to have regard for each other and their faith, which is both constraint and a guide of faith (if that is how we should construe \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u1f70 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03af\u03b1\u03bd \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03c0\u03af\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2 in Rom. 12:6). In the guidance that Paul gives, prophecy along with mutual affection are the criteria for the marks of the Sprit\u2019s activity, which are in many respects paralleled in the test for prophetic activity in Didache 11.<\/p>\n
4. Prophecy in the Book of Revelation and the Gospel of John<\/p>\n
4.1. Introduction<\/p>\n
The continuation of the prophetic tradition in Second Temple Judaism in apocalyptic literature has made a significant contribution to the Johannine corpus. The themes of prophecy, apocalyptic and eschatology come together most obviously in the book of Revelation and help us see how they might relate to one another. The word \u2018apocalypse\u2019 opens the Apocalypse of John, but the ethos of unveiling or unmasking pervades the book, even if \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03cd\u03c0\u03c4\u03c9 terminology is not used elsewhere. Following John Barton (1986), I think that what we have in this apocalyptic text is the form prophecy took at the end of the Second Temple period, infused with the realized eschatological convictions of early Christian belief. Like the later interpreters of the book, who located themselves in the divine purposes according to the conviction about the relationship of their times with the place in the (overlapping) sequences of seals, trumpet and bowls, John sees himself standing at a critical juncture in the unfolding of the messianic woes, the second of which is past (Rev. 11:14). This is not a text which simply predicts the future, for it also reads the signs of the times, which times are already in the midst of the tribulations leading to the coming of the messianic kingdom. To this extent, it is as much as anything an attempt to situate and explain one\u2019s place in eschatological history, just as one of its foremost expositors, Joachim of Fiore, understood so well (Kovacs and Rowland 2004).
\nThe Apocalypse of John is, self-confessedly, a book of prophecy whose main message is in large part eschatological. John reports his vision of the present and the future, and indeed, the climax of history in the coming of heaven on earth. The Apocalypse of John is an authoritative book of prophecy, whose status is described in words echoing Deuteronomy (Rev. 22:18; cf. Deut. 4:2; 22:10), perhaps even supplanting the ancient prophecy, with whose contents it is replete. By implication John is a prophet, whose role model is the vision of the two witnesses who prophesy and suffer for their prophetic witness (Rev. 11:3\u201312). John acts out typical prophetic experiences. Like Isaiah and Ezekiel he is vouchsafed visions of God (cf. Ezek. 1:1) and, echoing the experience of the latter (Ezek. 3:1\u20133), is commissioned to eat a scroll and perform as a prophet to the nations in the manner of Jeremiah (Jer. 1:4). John\u2019s prophetic ministry consists of the communication of his visions and the letters he has heard and written down at the dictation of the heavenly Christ to the angels of the churches.
\nIn the Apocalypse of John, in the midst of the unfolding eschatological drama, the centrality of the role of prophecy is enunciated. We see it in the involvement of the seer in ch. 10, when he is instructed to eat the scroll and commanded to prophesy. This is a direct call to participate actively as a prophet rather than merely be a passive spectator of it. Utilizing the figures of Moses and Elijah, that prophetic witness takes place in a social arena opposed to God where that witness must take place, even though it ends up with death in bearing witness. Elsewhere in the Johannine corpus, in 1 John, the claim to new teaching based on revelation (1 Jn 2:20, 27), which causes worry to the writer who prefers the appeal to the past, is no better exemplified than in the opening words (1 Jn 1:1). This retrospective emphasis contrasts with the Apocalypse of John where the spirit and prophecy have a central role, as they were to have in the Montanist movement nearly a century later (Trevett 1995). As a result of Montanism, however, prophecy was viewed with suspicion, so much so that the Apocalypse of John\u2019s place as part of the canon was challenged. The inspiration of this \u2018new prophecy\u2019 was in part the promise of the Paraclete in John 14\u201316, as well as heaven on earth in Revelation 21\u201322. Though the activity of the Spirit-Paraclete in the Gospel of John is largely retrospective (reminding of what Jesus had said, pointing to Jesus and continuing Jesus\u2019 critical activity), there is a prophetic, revelatory, function, especially in Jn 16:13, where the Paraclete leads the disciples into all truth. There is new revelation expected, even if any revelation is in continuity with what Jesus has said.
\nProphets make their occasional appearance in the Gospel of John. Reference to the biblical prophets aside (1:23, 45; 6:45; 8:52\u201353; 12:38), the High Priest has prophetic powers; questions are raised about the prophetic character of John the Baptist (1:21, 25) and also of Jesus (4:19, 44; 6:14; 7:40, 52; 9:17). In the case of Jesus (5:36; cf. 6:14), and to a lesser extent John the Baptist (1:31), the prophetic activity is seen in connection with the performance of deeds, whereas in the case of the High Priest it is his words that are indicative of their prophetic role.
\nThroughout the Gospel of John there is another important theme which links Jesus with the prophets, however. Jesus is a spokesman of the divine, a heavenly agent, akin to, but exceeding in authority and nature, the angelic agents. Jan B\u00fchner has argued for a blending of the angel motif and the prophet motif in the Jewish tradition and suggests that this may be a key to answering the background of Johannine Christology (B\u00fchner 1977: 271, 427). Like angels, prophets were regarded as speaking with the voice of God (e.g. Deut. 18:18\u201320; Jer. 1:9), and in later Jewish tradition we find the identity of the angel\/messenger (B\u00fchner 1977: 341\u201373). The Gospel of John is what John Ashton has called \u2018an apocalypse in reverse\u2019 (Ashton 1991: 371), in that the heavenly mysteries are not to be sought in heaven or through access to a body of written knowledge but primarily, and uniquely, in and through Jesus, the revelation of the hidden God (1:18; 14:9). At the same time, the Gospel of John also reveals the mysteries of God (6:46: \u2018Not that any one has seen the Father, except the one who is from God, he has seen the Father\u2019). What we find in the Gospel of John relates to the theme of the attainment of knowledge of the divine mysteries, and, supremely, the mysteries of God, though interpreted consistently christologically. One is tempted to suggest that when in 4QInstruction the reader is told to meditate on the raz nihyeh and study it always, we are encountering what John Collins describes as \u2018the entire divine plan embracing, past, present and future\u2019. That is now embodied in, and revealed by, Jesus (Collins 2004: 31; Harrington 1996: 49\u201353).<\/p>\n
4.2. Towards an Understanding of the Exercise of the Prophetic Imagination<\/p>\n
John\u2019s apocalyptic vision (Rev. 4\u20135) is one of the best examples we have of a vision based on Ezekiel\u2019s merkabah from Second Temple Judaism. It is a good example of what David Halperin has in mind when he writes: \u2018When the apocalyptic visionary \u201csees\u201d something that looks like Ezekiel\u2019 s merkabah, we may assume that he is seeing the merkabah vision as he has persuaded himself it really was, as Ezekiel would have seen it, had he been inspired wholly and not in part\u2019 (Halperin 1988: 71; for further on visionary experience in the apocalypses, see Stone 2003; MacDermot 1971).
\nThe adequacy of the evidence prevents us from being completely sure how visions took place among ancient Jews and Christians during the Second Temple period (Gruenwald 1978). The kaleidoscopic way in which passages and underlying themes from the Bible come together and merge in different ways in John\u2019s vision is reminiscent of what Mary Carruthers has written about memory in late antiquity and in the mediaeval period. She has shown how, in the process of memorization and the recall of memory, there is a creative process of interaction of images (Carruthers 1990; 1998: 68\u201369). The monastic practice of meditation notably involved making mental images or \u2018pictures\u2019. Carruthers describes mediaeval memoria as a craft of thinking, in which ancient readers and hearers of texts could seek to \u2018visualize\u2019 what they read (or heard, Carruthers 1998: 304). As a result, scriptural meditation opened up the gateway to a network of allusions together with personal context to effect an existentially addressed imaginative \u2018lectio\u2019. Meditation started from reading but is not at all bound by rules or precepts, for it can open up connections among a variety of biblical subjects (Hugh of St Victor, Didascalion 3.10). It is this kind of background that, I believe, may help us glimpse how the prophetic imagination worked in the case of John of Patmos. Indeed, Elliot Wolfson, among others, has rightly argued that it is impossible to isolate experience from its literary context (Wolfson 1994: 120). Thus, visionary experience, therefore, was supported by, and indeed initiated by, exegesis of their scriptures.
\nIn rabbinic tradition there is some evidence of the visualization of some of the various parts of the merkabah (e.g. b. Megillah 24a). Exegetically most obscure was the meaning of \u1e25a\u0161mal, the enigmatic word which occurs three times in the early chapters of Ezekiel (Ezek. 1:4, 27; 8:2). In the traditions about the meaning of \u1e25a\u0161mal in the collection of material about it in b. \u1e24agigah 13b, warnings are given by means of stories about the effects on the inexperienced, of what appears to be imaginative engagement with aspects of Ezekiel\u2019s text (Halperin 1988: 130\u201336). In this, the meaning of obscure parts of the text may have come about as a result of the creative, indeed imaginative, in Carruthers\u2019 sense, interpretation of the text, dangerous as it turned out to be in some cases.
\nJohn\u2019s prophetic vision, I would suggest, may have had its origin in this kind of imaginative exegesis of the scriptures, an exegesis which may have been part of the early merkabah tradition (Rowland 2005). According to John, however, what distinguishes his vision is that it is prophecy rather than merely a mystical meditation on the merkabah which enabled the adept to have access to the divine mysteries. John does not merely have access to the mysteries, therefore, but is also, to borrow Paul\u2019s description, a steward of the divine mysteries, like Enoch, and indeed a prophet whose words have the same authority as Isaiah, Ezekiel and Daniel. It is to be proclaimed in the public arena, whatever the consequences (Rev. 10\u201311).<\/p>\n
4.3. Prophecy and Politics<\/p>\n
That public, political character is evident from a glance at the history of the interpretation of the Apocalypse of John, indicating what a central role this book has played in the emergence of political theology, of whatever political hue. Its theology is at the heart of the Augustinian dualistic historical theology of The City of God, and the eschatological timetables of those engaged in eschatological prognostication going back to Joseph Mede and beyond into Joachite apocalyptic exegesis. In its own historical context, the Apocalypse of John represents a point on the development of the interpretation of the foundational political apocalyptic visions, Daniel 2 and 7. Like the contemporary 4 Ezra, the Apocalypse of John evinces a lively interest in Daniel as the foundation text of a prophetic, political critique, which unmasks the pretensions of empire before looking forward to a different kind of polity. In Revelation 13 and 17 we find the Beast of Daniel taken up and related to the experience of oppression and state power exercised by the Roman state of John\u2019s day. The beasts function synchronically rather than, as in Daniel 7, diachronically. They show the way in which the prophetic originals are moulded in the vision to accommodate the political experience of the visionary, in which the focus of state activity impinge upon his consciousness, one imperial and foreign, the other local.
\nLike the roughly contemporary 4 Ezra 6\u20137 and Syriac Apocalypse of Baruch 25\u201330, the Apocalypse of John has a complex eschatology. Woe paves the way for heaven on earth in a divinely determined series of disasters. This is outlined in the Apocalypse of John, where we find a series of sevens throughout the prophecy. H. H. Rowley may have been wrong to characterize apocalyptic as the future breaking into the present, but in this prophetic book the way in which the future arises out of the present is altogether more ordered and determined than in earlier prophecy. What is more, and in this respect it also resembles 4 Ezra, the Apocalypse of John has a two-stage eschatological climax in which the Kingdom of God on earth for a thousand years precedes the new heaven and earth promised by Isaiah (65:17; 66:22). 4 Ezra may have a temporary messianic kingdom lasting 400 years only, but the eschatological structure is the same.
\nBy contrast, a hope for the future society is notably absent in the Gospel of John, where the longing for a different kind of polity, God\u2019s Kingdom on Earth, has almost completely disappeared. Here \u2018going to be with Jesus in heaven\u2019 seems to be the heart of the promise for those who might gain eternal life (\u2018Father, I desire that those also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory, which you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world\u2019, Jn 17:24). Nevertheless, even if this wider hope has ebbed, there is in the Gospel of John, as David Rensberger has pointed out, an implicit political discourse in which the public demonstrations of an alternative politics are rooted in following the one whom God has sent (Rensberger 1988). It has always seemed to me that, formally speaking, one of the closest analogies to the trial of Jesus before Pilate is the martyrological literature, whether of the pre-Constantinian church or of later non-conformity (Musurillo 1972; Boyarin 1999).<\/p>\n
4.4. The Impact of the Prophetic Word: Enigma and Revelation<\/p>\n
We have considered ways in which a prophetic text, inspired in large part by earlier Scripture, might have emerged and the outline of its political character. I now want to look at the different ways in which the Johannine texts might have functioned and the sense in which, as books, they could be seen as prophetic.
\nThe closure of the two books tells us much about the kind of authority that their authors believed they had (Jn 21:24\u201325; Rev. 22:18\u201319). Both in different senses involve claims to be linked with eyewitnesses, both, it is true, of a heavenly vision, one of that heavenly Word made flesh; the other of the awesome consequences of the heavenly vision of the enthroned divinity and the terrible lamb in the midst of the throne. But there the similarity ends. It would appear that in the Gospel of John there is a separation between the Divine Word and the words recorded in the book. What the Gospel offers is a witness to the one who spoke to God face to face like Moses (cf. Jn 6:46), and the book is the medium of revelation pointing ultimately to the Word to which the words of John\u2019s story bear witness (Jn 21:24\u201325). Any new revelation, therefore, as we have seen, points back to, and has to interact with, that ultimate revelation. It is the words of Jesus to which the Spirit-Paraclete calls attention when teaching the disciples after Jesus\u2019 departure (Jn 16:13).
\nSo the Gospel of John contains the story about the Word. The words of Jesus, the Word made flesh, serve to elicit a response to the Eternal Word. In the Gospel of John, like Moses, who spoke to God face-to-face (Exod. 33:11), but explicitly exceeded him in authority and intimacy (Jn 1:17\u201318), Jesus is the intimate of God and speaks and embodies the divine mystery. He is not just an intermediary of the divine oracles, therefore, nor is he a mere channel or a lawgiver, as the different pictures of Moses suggest. He is the unique emissary of God who makes the invisible God known.
\nCompare that with the Apocalypse of John, which contains the words from the Son of Man and a report of what John has seen. These become a book of prophecy of and about the divine mysteries. These new prophetic words have the authority of the Torah itself: \u2018I warn every one who hears the words of the prophecy of this book: if any one adds to them, God will add to that person the plagues described in this book\u2019 (Rev. 22:18). In the Apocalypse of John, the face-to-face moment of meeting with the enthroned God is only eschatological. Until then, it is only John who can come face to face with the divine glory in heaven or \u2018on the Lord\u2019s Day\u2019 in the vision of the divine human figure (Rev. 1:13\u201316).
\nBoth books are alike and resemble the profound and enigmatic character of the oracular. They bewilder, challenge and even disorientate the reader, whether to wean Nicodemus from his role as leader of the Jews, or, in the Apocalypse of John, to move readers\/hearers from the culture of the Beast and Babylon. The Apocalypse of John\u2019s reformulation of earlier prophetic language might bring hearers to repentance (e.g. Rev. 2:5, 16). Both books are not to be sealed up for \u2018the time of the end\u2019 (Jn 20:31; Rev. 22:10), unlike earlier prophecy (e.g. Dan. 12:9), for they are words for the present moment. Like the prophetic oracles, neither text is transparent, therefore. Indeed, Wayne Meeks\u2019s description of the Gospel of John could equally well be applied to the Apocalypse of John:<\/p>\n
\u2026 the reader has an experience rather like that of the dialogue partners of Jesus: either he will find the whole business so convoluted, obscure, and maddeningly arrogant that he will reject it in anger, or he will find it so fascinating that he will stick with it until the progressive reiteration of themes brings, on some level of consciousness at least, a degree of clarity \u2026 The book functions for its readers in precisely the same way that the epiphany of its hero functions within the narratives and dialogues. (Meeks 1972: 68\u201369, emphasis added)<\/p>\n
Obscure language is necessary in the present age, for, to quote Paul\u2019s words, in this age one \u2018sees in a glass darkly\u2019 (1 Cor. 13:12). The mystery of the visions and the occasional call for divine wisdom (as with the number of the Beast in Rev. 13:18) are tokens of the obscurity of the apocalyptic imagery and the teasing Johannine aphorisms, whose allusiveness has offered such varied interpretative opportunities down the centuries. Luther rightly contrasted the Apocalypse of John with Daniel in his later introduction to the Apocalypse of John in his translation of the New Testament: \u2018there are many different kinds of prophecy in Christendom. One type does this with images, but alongside them it supplies their interpretation in specific words\u2014as \u2026 Daniel \u2026 [another] type does it without either words or interpretations, exclusively with images and figures, like this book of Revelation.\u2019
\nIn the Gospel of John, Jesus\u2019 words are often obscure, and only towards the end of the Gospel do his followers declare, \u2018Now you speak to us plainly not in any figure of speech\u2019 (16:29). Both the Apocalypse of John and the Gospel of John, like the prophetic texts before them, therefore offer, whether in visionary or narrative form, words which seek to bring about an epistemological and ethical transformation in readers\/hearers in preparation for that meeting \u2018face to face\u2019 in the New Jerusalem (Rev. 22:4) or in communion with the ascended Son of Man in heaven (Jn 17:24).
\nIf the Gospel of John is \u2018an apocalypse in reverse\u2019 and has at its heart the fact that the content of the revelation is not words but a person (following Bultmann\u2019s famous dictum), that means two things. First, when considering the Gospel of John one should not be dealing with abstractions such as truth, for truth, life, revelation and mystery all have their focus in \u2018the Word become flesh\u2019, or, to paraphrase what the opening verses of Hebrews say, God may have spoken through prophets in words but now God has \u2018spoken\u2019 through a person. This has two consequences: first, an understanding of what the mystery is cannot be reduced to neat linguistic summaries. This means, secondly, that this kind of \u2018apocalypse\u2019 is always going to remain mysterious because it is ambiguous. Of course, one could say that, short of seeing God \u2018face to face\u2019, any mystery or truth is going to be obscure in this age. Daniel, after all, needed to have what he \u2018saw\u2019 explained to him. One of the reasons that apocalypse terminology is not used in the Gospel of John may be that the revelation is never \u2018face-to-face\u2019 (as it would be, eschatologically, say, in Rev. 22:4), for it is through a person, and as such, without the veil being removed, as in the Transfiguration in the Synoptics, there is ambiguity, indeed doubt, whether Jesus is from God (cf. Jn 9:16). This resembles the ambiguity of the mystery of the cross in 1 Corinthians 1\u20132. It is folly to those perishing, but salvation to those who have faith. It is only when one discerns truth, mystery, etc. in the ambiguous event or person that one has discerned the divine reality, and apocalypse takes place. And yet, such moments are never compelling in the way a vision, say of the divine, is, rooted as it is in expectations of what might constitute a divine vision in the pages of the Bible (Isa. 6; Ezek. 1).<\/p>\n
4.5. Concluding Comments<\/p>\n
Prophecy is one of the most important features in the New Testament, historically, theologically and hermeneutically, and a way of comprehending the diversity contained in them. The sense of present communion with the divine, in which tradition and accepted channels of authority are relativized by the prophet\u2019s conviction that vision or word coming from the divine has to be spoken, or written, and has an authority at least as great as that of the authoritative texts from the past, typifies so much of what is central to the New Testament. Indeed, we cannot understand early Christianity as a movement in history without all the many facets of the prophetic. The theological stress on divine immanence and indwelling, whether applying to Christology, or the inspired person, is well summarized in the programmatic statement in Heb. 1:1\u20132: \u2018In many and various ways God spoke of old to our fathers by the prophets; but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son\u2019. Hermeneutically, the emphasis on the present rather than the past, the spirit, rather than the letter, are characteristic of the New Testament texts, which evince a belief in a God speaking through men and women about the present, as well as the future and the past. Whatever the attempts of those who have sought to police them, prophetic texts have for two thousand years been the inspiration for many who have seen prophecy not as a phenomenon read about in the pages of a book but one to be actualized and emulated. In this respect they imitate a text like the Apocalypse of John, where biblical prophecy was less a matter of study than a language to speak and whose claims, ironically, helped to turn the living prophetic voice into a thing of the past, into words to be studied rather than contemporary \u2018oracles of God\u2019.<\/p>\n
title Prophecy and Prophets in Ancient Israel: Proceedings of the Oxford Old Testament Seminar<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Part I THE ANCIENT NEAR EASTERN CONTEXT OF PROPHECY COMPARING PROPHETIC SOURCES: PRINCIPLES AND A TEST CASE Martti Nissinen 1. Ancient Near Eastern Prophecy as the Context of Biblical Prophecy 1.1. Prophetic Studies in Transition Increasing knowledge of ancient Near Eastern prophetic texts has during the last couple of decades led to a growing awareness … <\/p>\n