An international publisher has commissioned me to produce a commentary on the Infancy Gospel of Thomas (IGT). Considering the kind of material IGT consists of, writing such a commentary poses special challenges. First, there is a problem with the text in question. As Biblical scholars we usually deal with reasonably well established texts. But what are we to do when there is – as is the case with IGT – no such text, i.e. when the preserved manuscripts differ greatly and make it virtually impossible to get at something like an original? And what if these variants reflect oral tradition rather than material primarily transmitted in written form? Should the commentary e.g. focus on a (highly hypothetical) reconstruction of this 2nd century story, on texts preserved in Syriac and Latin (4th-6th c.), or on central Greek manuscripts (11th-14th c.)? Second, we are confronted with a number of challenges as regards method. What kind of equipment from the scholar’s toolbox am I to use? Should the material primarily be dealt with from a historical-critical point of view – for instance (form-critically) with attention to individual pericopes or (redaction-critically) to similarities and differences among the variants of IGT? Or should I approach the material social-scientifically, e.g. with a view to cultural setting(s)? Or is a literary-narrative perspective more viable, for example to deal with the main plot of IGT – if such a common exists? Of course, not all (or just one of) these approaches can be applied – some decisions must be made. But which are the most viable? Finally, there are challenges as regards the overall interpretation of IGT. Within history of research IGT has often been considered theologically idiosyncratic or even heretical. But it can also be read differently. There are, for instance, good reasons to interpret IGT as a story having children as a main audience (cf. my monograph “The Childhood of Jesus: Decoding the Apocryphal Infancy Gospel of Thomas”, Wipf & Stock, 2009). Just as texts can be read from feminist or post-colonial point of view, they can also be read with an eye to children. What happens if a story like IGT is commented on from a “childist” perspective? Can this be done in a scholarly responsible way? If so, how? In the paper I shall reflect on these matters, not least through examples, and with a focus on potentials and profits rather than on problems. In my presentation I will be very open to suggestions on how to solve a challenge such as this. In addition to being important for my work on IGT, the reflections may also be relevant to issues such as exegesis, method or commentary writing in general.

This paper examines the new moon feast and the annual clan sacrifice as described in 1 Samuel 20 in order to ask whether women participated in either or both of these cultic meals. In the case of the former, the setting of the meal -- in a sanctuary, I will argue, and not (as usually interpreted) in Saul's royal dwelling -- provides the crucial clue. In the case of the latter, larger considerations of the role of women in the ancient Israelite ancestor cult will guide the discussion.

The encyclopedia “Religion Past and Present” covers numerous methodological aspects of biblical studies: source-critical, form-critical and historical considerations about individual books, entries about characters from the bible and specific topics. A sample of entries on biblical books and topics will be evaluated in order to consider the contribution of Religion Past and Present to the field of Biblical studies.

To most Euro-American biblical scholars the answer will probably be negative. But to most African biblical scholars who are knowledgeable in the meaning and purpose of African Biblical Hermeneutics, the answer will be positive. To this present researcher who has done some important works in African Biblical Hermeneutics, the answer is YES. The purpose of this paper therefore, is to further critically examine and bring to light, the actual distinctiveness of African Biblical Hermeneutics which is mainly found in African Religion, culture and tradition, and in the task of African Biblical Interpretation (according to his experience)in the age of globalization.

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I have recently introduced social reading tools into my classroom as a way of using technology to bridge a gap between the reading experience of early Christians and the experience my students have reading the New Testament. Ancient texts created reading groups, and Scripture reading was a social activity for the early Christians. Paul’s assumption in 1 Thess 5:27 that his letters will be read “to all the brethren” stands in stark contrast with the individualized experience of reading that my New Testament students face. Any social aspect to reading is limited to classroom discussion, possible only after the solitary act of “doing the reading.” I ask students to read primary texts, prepare notes, even perform detailed exegesis, and then I ask them to bring that preparation to bear on conversation in class. Reading and discussion function as discrete tasks, separated by the physical walls of the classroom. New reading technologies allow students to "share" a digital text, to read the version their colleagues read, and to have access to others' comments. These tools have the potential of re-creating the “social” aspect of reading and learning imagined by the Apostle. I have introduced social reading technologies into my classes not only to help my students more efficiently process assigned readings, but also to help prepare myself to be more efficient in class by creating a window into the students’ experience with the reading material before class begins. What happens when an individual’s “doing the reading” outside of class is not an individual activity at all? What happens when the marginalia of an assigned text include the live comments, questions, or confusions of colleagues in the class? What changes when I can see where students’ conversation or confusion naturally gravitates as they read for the first time? New social reading technologies create the potential for a student’s preparation for class to overlap with his or her participation in class. In this presentation I introduce and assess some recent tools that have come to market for computers, tablets, and smartphones that offer the potential to re-imagine reading as a social activity outside of the classroom. I briefly demonstrate and share experiences with social reading tools I have used, tools that range from file sharing platforms like Google Drive and Dropbox to advanced social reading engines like Inkling and Crocodoc. I discuss the benefits of allowing students to share their initial encounters with texts and ask questions immediately as they read. I will also share drawbacks of social reading in a classroom, such as the technical limitations of certain tools as well as the frustration students felt in not being able to “read by themselves.” I hope to suggest ways in which Biblical studies can be taught in a more social way and to invite consideration of the difficult question of how new reading tools might influence the practices of our students.

See online: http://www.ibr-bbr.org (Research Groups: Identity Formation in the Pauline Letters).

In a technical study, the “Psychopathology and Long-Term Adjustment after Crisis in Refugees from East Germany,” German psychiatrists and researchers Michael Bauer and Stefen Priebe describe the impact of traumatic experience of “displacement and resettlement” from East to West Germany. With careful interviews, observations, and reviews during key intervals, even after two and a half years, there were still noticeable “depressive disorders, anxiety disorders, and adjustment disorders.” All these syndromes were accompanied by “vegetative complaints.” In other words, embedded in the complaints were real traumatic experiences of sufferings and hardships. In the Hebrew Bible, there is a body of literature within the Wilderness Wandering Tradition called the “Murmuring (Complaint) Motif (lwn).” M. Noth, G. Coats, S. Devries, and B. Childs have shed some light on the form critical side. However, no true progress has been made in recent years. In a state of liminality or in-betweenness, or more concretely, for peoples forcibly on the geo-physical move with exposure to threats to their security and with lack of food and water, these may be marks of conscious social reflexivity embedded in the text.

This paper derives from a quote attributed to Jorge Luis Borges, from his story “The Gryphon.” The quote appears as an epigraph to Thomas Wharton’s book, The Logogryph. However, Borges never wrote such a story, although the words of the quote sound very “Borgesian,” and Borges himself often cites or quotes from non-existent books. The quote describes the book of desire, “magical and terrifying,” a book that is an unsolvable riddle, a hopeless puzzle: the one book that every reader longs for and never finds. Such a book (among others) is the Bible – not the ideological tool or weapon that we encounter in the hands of preachers and politicians and so many others every day, and not the actual, enigmatic biblical texts, but the virtual Bible that haunts and frustrates the diligent reader, and that leads endlessly to other texts, some of which do not exist. By parodying modernist conventions of literary study, Borges mocks standard values of historical-critical biblical scholarship: the intention of the author, the priority of the original, the tracing of sources, the reliability of narrators, etc. Read through a Borgesian lens, the Bible becomes at once an intricate web of puzzles, some of them unsolvable, and a magical card trick, divining the past and future. In addition to the writings of Borges, I draw upon Calvino, Barthes, and Deleuze.

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To study the exposition of imperial strategies in canonical gospels finds more and more interest (Carter, Horsley, Elliot, Aitken) and it is generally believed among biblical scholars that early Christian communities found themselves in a hybrid process of diverse power struggles. In regard to the Roman Empire the authors of New Testament texts did therefore not necessarily comment or protest violently against the Roman majority society but establish their own strategies of negotiation within their cultural setting. Hence studying imperial negotiations of 1st and 2nd century antiquity means to include this ambivalence and is challenged by the discussion of early Christian texts next to Jewish and Pagan texts that reflect power dynamics. This paper focuses on the imperial strategies that are exposed by the gospel of Luke and Lucans Pharsalia. It shows how Luke uses his critique on the imperial strategies of the Roman Empire to establish and illustrate the Jesus tradition within its political context (Evans 2011). It ventures to contextualize the Jesus tradition shown in Luke with the imperial negotiation of Marcus Annaeus Lucanus (39–65 AD), who illustrated his admiration and disgust of the experienced Neronian empire as a stoic poet in his magnificent Pharsalia (Habinek 1998, Quint 1993). Acknowledging that both authors situated their narrative in a historic context, interpreted religious traditions, where influenced by (Greek) philosophy gives reason to study how the authors exposed their desire for an alteration of the balance of power. Due to the wide range of interesting angles this paper concentrates on the re-imagination and personalization of imperial negotiations. The paper avoids a still common "for" or "against" argumentation and refers to Luke 24,1-12 and BC 5,65-236 to explore how Luke and Lucan personalized a debate within a prophetic framework and therefore allowed continuities and discontinuities of imperial negotiations simultaneously.

This paper will build on the author's earlier work by further developing an understanding of the formation of Deutero-Isaiah (Isa 40-55). The argument will be defended that the "book's" development took place in several redactional stages.

As part of the Textual History of the Ethiopic Old Testament Project, a team of colleagues at George Fox Evangelical Seminary have carried out a study on the Ethiopic book of Habakkuk. An electronic base text was produced from Oscar Löfgren’s edition of Habakkuk and transcriptions made of more than 20 manuscripts. A dataset of the texts was manipulated to obliterate orthographic variations. Then, the texts were analyzed with the aid of Juxta software to identify affiliations into families among the manuscripts. In this presentation we will describe the manuscripts used in the study, the methods involved in dating the manuscripts, in producing the electronic base text and the digital transcriptions of the manuscripts, and in identifying manuscript families. We will describe briefly the approximate date of origin of each family, the character of the recension each represents, and describe something of their internal relationships to one another.

As in many traditional societies, the inhabitants of Hittite Anatolia regarded dreams as potentially powerful portents. Although some of them were attributed to other sources, numerous dreams were seen as coming straight from the gods. As such, they were scrutinized and their content duly taken into account in order to avoid the gods’ wrath. Hittite cuneiform texts (historical records, oracular reports, accounts of vows, prayers, etc.) illustrate this phenomenon in great detail: the occurrence of such dreams either spontaneously or after an incubation ritual, the oracular inquiries performed in an attempt to better understand them and thus better satisfy the divine sender’s demand. Sometimes, the message-dream (after A.L. Oppenheim’s expression) alerts the dreamer about a particular issue which requires a whole ritual, be it defilement or/and illness. Thus, ancient Anatolians viewed dreams as a window between the human and the supernatural realms. The proposed paper will provide an overview of the Hittite sources dealing with message-dreams, of the contexts in which they occur and of the reactions provoked by them.

It is widely agreed among scholars that both Revelation 5.6b (in conjunction with the three preceding references to “seven spirits”) and 11.4 allude to Zechariah 4.10 and 4.14 respectively. The majority of scholars and commentators note these references and move directly to a theological interpretation of how the references relate to the central idea of this chapter from Zechariah: that the plans of God are accomplished “not by might nor by power, but by my spirit” (4.6). However, few pause to discuss the mechanics of the allusion. What version of Zechariah 4 is the author of Revelation working with and does he use it consistently throughout his composition? Also, how is this allusion crafted? What compositional mechanics or exegetical techniques does the author employ? How do they relate to the contemporary exegetical habits of Second Temple Judaism witnessed in compositions at Qumran, in inner-biblical allusions, and other early Jewish sources that reference Zechariah 4? This paper seeks to identify the source text for these allusions and to discuss the exegetical mechanics used in their employment. The primary purpose of this paper is to begin to understand the complex exegetical mind of the author of Revelation by laying the textual and contextual foundation of his use of Zechariah 4.

In Levantine and Mediterranean inscriptions, as well as in biblical texts, the divine name Baal is associated with several geographic epithets. Of these geographic epithets, the most famous is probably Mount ?apun, Baal’s mythical residence in the Baal Cycle. Though the divine name and geographic epithet do not appear together as a phrase in the Baal Cycle itself, the full name Baal-?apun does appear in ritual texts (e.g., KTU2 1.109) and letters (e.g., KTU2 2.42), which were found south of Mount ?apun in Ugarit. The full name also appears in the Akkadian treaty between Esarhaddon and King Baal of Tyre (SAA 2 5), further removed geographically from the mountain, and it even appears in a Phoenician inscription in Egypt (KAI 50) and in a Punic inscription as far from Mount ?apun as modern France (KAI 69). In each of these texts, the divine name and accompanying geographic epithet function together as a single unit, and they remind us just how strongly the deity and his mythical home were connected in the devotees’ minds. Moreover, the relationship between Baal and ?apun in this full name is fundamentally different from full names common to most Akkadian texts, in which geographic epithets typically highlight a deity’s connection a patron city (e.g., Ištar-of-Nineveh and Ištar-of-Arbela) rather than the mythic homeland. This paper explores the mythological subtext behind various geographic epithets associated with the divine name Baal and other Levantine deities in light of the full name Baal-?apun. Special consideration will be given to Baal-?aman, Baal-Pe‘or, and Anat-?apun, as well as the Israelite deity Yahweh-of-Teman, whose full name was uncovered at Kuntillet ‘Ajrûd and whose mythical homeland is alluded to in Habakkuk 3:3.

Nehemiah 5:14-19 describes the gubernatorial meals with various symbolically-laden markers. The provisions of Nehemiah’s feast contrast with those of former governors, who took bread, wine, and 40 shekels. Nehemiah instead gives meat and wine to 150 domestic and international diners. This paper will investigate the importance of these features of the text in light of Achaemenid meal traditions, considering both the reflections of Persian meals in Greek sources and the Persian administrative records themselves.

The paper examines the atonement of sins in Apollonius Rhodius’ Argonautica and Exodus. In the first and fourth book of the Argonautica the Greek heroes commit a number of devastating mistakes, at times willingly and at times in situations that are beyond their control. Hence, in the first book we read about their venture at Cyzicus where they received generous hospitality by the homonymous king of the city. When adverse winds force them to return to the coasts of Cyzicus in the middle of the night the Argonauts mistake the familiar shores for those of an enemy land and in the battle that ensues Jason kills king Cyzicus. Following an intense period of mourning during which the Cyziceans show little interest in consuming bread, Orpheus prescribes the initiation of the Argonauts in the mysteries of Cybele. Similar initiatory overtones are repeated in book four of the Argonautica, where the heroes reach the end of their adventure having, nevertheless, murdered Apsyrtus, the brother of Medea who followed the Argo in pursuit of the Golden Fleece and his treacherous sister alike. Crucially the atonement rites described in book four refer to a new homeland for the descendants of the Argonauts who, having witnessed so much bloodshed, are hardly able to re-join their previous communities. The paper argues that in describing the Argonauts’ adventures in the form of a catabasis, in investing their atonement rites with initiatory overtones in connection with bread, and in excluding the Argonauts from successfully re-joining their communities, Apollonius utilizes elements from the biblical episode of the Exodus. We argue that Apollonius was familiar with the episode in the context of the cultural interface between Greek and Jewish populations in Hellenistic Alexandria, especially at a time when the Jewish claims for their ancestral homeland resonated significantly with Ptolemaic foreign policy. Therefore, our paper adds an element to the interaction of Greeks and Jews in the Hellenistic East at a relatively early period and contributes to our understanding of cultural syncretism by exploring two texts that have rarely been associated hitherto in scholarship.

Natural hair has been in recent discussions among African-Americans, as there has been a large wave of women and men wearing and embracing their naturally curly, kinky hair textures. The recent natural hair boom is a response to the African-American’s denigration of self due to the lingering sting of slavery. In addition, in various experiences past and present, natural hair is often discounted as an issue of serious concern (even within the natural hair community). These instances beg the questions, ‘Why the influx of natural hair wearers?’, ‘What does it signify?’, and ‘What were its root causes?’ Biblical scholar Susan Niditch states in her book, "My Brother Esau Is a Hairy Man": Hair and Identity in Ancient Israel that, “Hair plays an integral role in the way human beings represent themselves. It is related to natural and cultural identity, to personal and group anxieties, and to public and private aspirations, aesthetics, and passages.” Bearing this in mind, I plan to discuss the impact of the natural hair movement as purveyor of a type of gospel (where natural hair is explained metaphorically as a sacred instrument in defining oneself as God’s unique creation, made in His image); as a means of spiritual liberation; and as a community. The natural hair experience is comparable to the Judeo-Christian experience of conviction and conversion. Scriptural and contemporary examples will be used to draw parallels between the terminology and expressions used in the natural hair and Judeo-Christian communities.

While the intentional fallacy has rightly given biblical scholars pause over claiming to know any author’s intention based on an analysis of a text, the Gospel of John is different. John 20:31 expresses the clearest statement of authorial intentionality anywhere in the canonical corpus, but questions orbit around the issue of what is meant by “believe.” Is the narrative produced as an apologetic, leading hearers and readers to come to faith in Jesus as the Messiah/Christ for the first time (D.A. Carson and others), or does it call for abiding faithfully within the community of the Beloved Disciple rather than seceding from it (R.E. Brown and others)? While some ancient manuscripts support the aorist subjunctive meaning of “believe” (p?ste?s?te—that you might come to believe), others support the present subjective meaning of “believe” (p?ste??te—that you might continue believing). In this case, an understanding of the Johannine tradition’s development poses an assist to inferring correctly the literary meaning of the text. In the light of what is considered by several scholars to be the most plausible view of John’s two editions (as outlined by Barnabas Lindars and followed by John Ashton and others), a striking set of features emerges. Most of the appeals to unity and abiding in Jesus and his community appear in material attributed to the supplementary material (John 1:1-18 and chapters 6, 15-17, 21); the a earlier material appears crafted to convince hearers/readers that Jesus is the Jewish Messiah/Christ (five books of Moses—five signs of Jesus, etc.). As the signs, the witnesses, and the fulfilled word function apologetically within in the Gospel’s first edition material, the way of the cross, Jesus’ final discourse and prayer, and his appearances call for solidarity with Jesus and his community—offsetting centrifugal tendencies of the Johannine situation as reflected within the Johannine epistles. Therefore, it cannot be said that the purpose of the Fourth Gospel is singular, forcing a wedge between its apologetic and pastoral thrusts. Rather, the Fourth Gospel invites coming to belief for the first time in its earlier rendition, while the later material calls for continuing in faith in the face of rising opposition—arguably reflecting the purposes of the Fourth Gospel.

Q 10:21-22 is the famous “Johannine Thunderbolt,” a passage whose precise meaning and role in Q have long been debated by New Testament scholars with seemingly no consensus reached to this date. This crux interpretum presents the readers with a thanksgiving prayer by Jesus that appears particularly puzzling in its present context in the reconstructed Q. In his prayer Jesus appears to express gratitude to God, whom he calls Father, for something that contradicts the very purpose of the immediately preceding mission discourse (Q 10:2-16). In a shocking turn of events, Jesus appears to rejoice over the selective disclosure of God to the group termed “children” and stresses his prerogative to reveal the Father to whom he wishes. The placement of Q 10:21-22 at the conclusion of the mission discourse betrays its secondary compositional origin. As presently positioned, the couplet appears to provide a commentary which renders the mission’s failure – a major redactional theme in Q – a part of God’s original intention. Yet nowhere else in the document is such a retrospective change of heart on display. What is more, it clashes sharply with the redaction’s more typical castigation of the opposition on the apparent assumption that the Q group’s message should have been understood. In the field of Q studies the work of John S. Kloppenborg constitutes the current Status Quaestionis on the document’s compositional history and redaction. Working with Kloppenborg’s stratification of the document, I make a literary-critical case to reassign Q 10:21-22 from its present location in the initial redactional layer (Q2) to the document’s latest stratum (Q3). In the process, I coordinate Q 10:21-22 with the Temptation Story to propose a new theological rationale for the Q3 stratum.

Given the sustained attention that has been given to issues of gender in the Hebrew Bible for the last forty years, it is remarkable that the prima facie presence of a female pronoun for God in Num 11:15 has received so little attention—despite the reference in v.12 to a maternal role for God that Moses is all-too-keen to avoid for himself. Although it was accepted by Rashi and Nachmanides, the arguments against a female pronoun today are many. Some assume that the final consonant of the standard male pronoun—aleph-taw-heh—has simply been lost, leaving us with what looks like the standard female form. Others point to the otherwise male grammar of the rest of the sentence as evidence that a female reading is unnatural in the extreme. The most common explanation, reflected in the lexica, is that the female-looking pronoun is actually a rare male form. Among the six or seven other examples of this alleged phenomenon is the use of the same pronoun to refer to Moses in Deut 5:27. But while it is true that the Masoretes suggest a vowel pointing to compensate for an apparently missing final consonant in most of these texts, the fact that they did not do so for Num 11:15 or Deut 5:27 should give pause for thought. This paper will argue for a coherent reading in which the female pronoun in Num 11:15 not only deliberately punctuates the male grammar of the sentence but provides us with a catchword that allows the people who are cited in Deut 5:27 to use Moses’ rhetoric against him. If both passages allude to the maternal role that Moses is initially determined to avoid, then the female pronoun for God in Num 11:15 may finally be given the attention it deserves.

The work of pastors and pastoral counselors involves caring for others, often at great emotional, physical, and spiritual cost to themselves. Many fail to adequately care for themselves through intentional spiritual, physical, and emotional renewal. Many more lack knowledge of the tools or spiritual disciplines that offer such renewal. The ancient spiritual practice of pilgrimage can be part of a plan for spiritual transformation and refreshment for modern pilgrim pastors and pastoral counselors. Interestingly, Victor Turner’s seminal work on pilgrimage and communitas resonates with ancient Hebrew pilgrimage practices depicted in the Exodus, wilderness wanderings, journey to the Temple (reflected in the Psalms of Ascent and Pilgrim festivals) as well as the return to Zion from Babylonian exile. This presentation explores the interdisciplinary intersections between the fields of pastoral counseling and Hebrew Bible around the practice of transformation through pilgrimage. It will outline many of our strategies, struggles, and best practices for teaching this subject as partner-teachers.

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The biblical account of the conquest of Canaan is troubling to many interpreters. R. D. Nelson lists historical problems with this topic which run the gamut from Marcion, Origen, and Rabbis, to American conquest and possession, to twentieth- century genocide ethical awareness. This paper surveys selected nineteenth-century women interpreters, some of whom were not only wrestling with the text for themselves, but also with how to teach the text to children. Writers of this period were well acquainted with ideological conflicts: revolutions, colonial expansions, civil wars, religious wars, and the informal casualties of rapid industrialization and the move to modernity. From the vantage point of our own historical/interpretive context, it is enlightening to observe how these women interacted with the challenges of the conquest story within their own historical context.

This paper will present an overview of the available data on the structure and function of association meeting spaces, focusing mostly on actual remains, but with some reference to meeting spaces known only from inscriptions, followed by some reflections on the impact(s) of physical location on group organization and identity. This in turn will shed some light on the social practices of early Christ groups as reflected in the texts gathered in the New Testament. By examining the data together interpreters can get a sense of both the social and the rhetorical functions meeting locales conveyed to group insiders and outsiders.

This paper offers a reading of Luke 11:5-10 through the eyes of the Torobo people of Kenya with discussion of how this parable is interpreted in Torobo world view. Three main characters are identified in the narrative: (a) Friend-Guest, (b) Friend-Host, and (c) Friend-Neighbor. The three characters in Luke’s narrative and their predicament are symbols of key values in Torobo world view. The Friend-Guest symbolizes the value placed on each person in that the guest arrives knowing a safe refuge and much needed nourishment will be offered. The Friend-Host extends friendship to maintain relational harmony, and he symbolizes notions of Torobo hospitality. The Friend-Neighbor is a powerful symbol of the forces of good and evil influencing a person. The Friend-Neighbor struggles to uphold the customary law of hospitality through reciprocal exchange. Exploring the Luke narrative from a Torobo perspective confirms hospitality is a validation of the worth of the Friend-Neighbor and reconfirms the commitment of the Friend-Host to the relationship. Thus, the moral ought for each Torobo is to exhibit loyalty to other community members and accept a measure of responsibility for their welfare through customary hospitality.

Psalm 129 depicts the distress of the people in exile. It contains no appeal to God for salvation or thanksgiving for an ameliorated situation. The anticipation of retribution against the adversaries is very limited in scope; it appears in verse 5 not as a petition to God but as a heartfelt desire. In this manner the psalmist contrasts the harsh present with an auspicious future. Verses 6-8 depict the transience of the people’s exilic existence. The psalmist likens the people to the rooftop grass that withers rapidly. In the psalmist’s mind, the rooftop grass evokes the poverty and the landlessness of the people that compel them to utilize their rooftops to grow crops that yield so little that there is almost nothing to harvest. This situation stands in contrast to God’s copious blessing of the agriculture in the Land of Israel that is alluded to at the psalm’s conclusion. The psalmist’s objective is to convey the harsh reality of the exile. He juxtaposes this situation against the much awaited future and against the abundant Divine blessing of the past.

Since Machinist’s 1983 study of “The Image of Assyria in the First Isaiah,” increasing attention has been devoted passages in Isaiah 1-39 that respond to Assyrian campaigns of the late eighth century. Each of these passages focuses on the theological challenge to the notion of Divine sovereignty represented by the Assyrian campaign. These passages include 10:5-15, which refer to Sargon’s campaign of 720 (as demonstrated by Younger, “The Fall of Samaria,” 1999), 10:28-32, which appear to describe an Assyrian campaign in the area north of Jerusalem, Isaiah 36-37, which re-envision Sennacherib’s campaign, 2:1-4, which subvert Assyrian notions of universal sovereignty and parsu (nomoi), and 2:5-22, which describe a Divine campaign modeled on Assyrian ones (Aster, “The Image of Assyria in Isaiah 2:5-22,” 2007). Most of these passages demonstrate knowledge not only of the campaigns themselves, but of the rhetoric used in Assyrian royal inscriptions to describe these. Thus, elements in them can be dated to the late eighth century BCE. Passages in Micah demonstrate a similar knowledge of the experience of the campaigns, and a more limited knowledge of Assyrian rhetoric. These include the geographic descriptions in Micah 1:10-15 (which correspond to the regions exhibiting destruction layers in strata from the late eighth century BCE) and the response to Assyrian attacks in 5:1-5 (which contain several calques on motifs known to us from Assyrian royal inscriptions). While the responses in Isaiah focus on the theological challenges and engage universal issues, those in Micah focus solely on the military challenge to Judeans. Since passages in both books originate in the late eighth-century, we can inquire as to a possible dialogue between the corpora. The radically diverging theological responses to the Assyrian campaigns that these books portray form the subject of this dialogue. One locus of such dialogue is the End of Days prophecy of Isaiah 2:1-4, whose universalist focus fits into into Isaiah’s theological view. Micah 4:4-7, which are appended to the End of Days prophecy, may form a commentary by Micah on Isaiah’s prophecy. Another locus of dialogue is between the campaign descriptions in Isaiah 10:28-32 and Micah 1:10-15, and the differing results described. This paper examines these passages, within the context of the larger theological differences they demonstrate, and examines the historical reasons for these differences.

Shelamzion Alexandra (76-67 B.C.E.) is the only Hasmonean Queen regnant. She reigned during one of the most turbulent periods of Hasmonean history just prior to the Roman conquest. During her reign she faced an invasion of her homeland by the Armenian monarch Tigranes the Great, internal rebellions, sectarian strife, potential threats from the Nabateans and the Itureans, and threatened Roman incursions in the Middle East. She also selected the high priest and restored the Pharisees to their former positions of authority. Although she led her nation during one of its most tumultuous periods, little is known about her reign or her accomplishments. Josephus, the only historian to document her time in power, devotes little space to her. Yet, over time Queen Shelamzion Alexandra became celebrated as the most successful of all the Hasmonean rulers: her reign was even heralded as a Golden Age. Later generations continued to expand upon her achievements, and transformed her into a heroine whose rule is sometimes described in messianic terms. This presentation seeks to explore the different images of Queen Shelamzion from the Dead Sea Scrolls to the sixteenth century C.E. It explores the conflicting presentations of her reign in the accounts of Josephus, suggesting that his contrasting portraits of her often reflect his source materials. The different perceptions of Queen Shelamzion in the mishmarot and the pesharim from the Dead Sea Scrolls present both positive and negative assessments of her reign, some of which support later rabbinic traditions about her. These Second Period sources will be contrasted with later writers such as George Syncellus, Moses of Khoren (5th century C.E.), Epiphanius of Salamis (4th century C.E.), and the Talmud. These writers often display a reworking of earlier Second Temple period sources to highlight Shelamzion’s piety and her leadership abilities. The presentation concludes with legends and perceptions about Shelamzion preserved in documents from the Italian Renaissance and beyond as preserved by Azariah dei Rossi (1513-1578 C.E.), Baldessar Castiglione (1478-1529 C.E.), and Guillaume Roville (16th century C.E.). This presentation suggests that some of our late sources concerning Shelamzion’s reign, despite their dates of composition, preserve ancient testimony about her that is not only reflected in Second Temple literature, but in the archaeological remains and literary evidence as well. It also suggests that many traditions attributed to her husband, Alexander Yannai, should be reassigned to her.

What should the links with Deut 9, Josh 24, and 1 Kgs 8 tell us about the drafting and role of 1 Samuel 12? Like much of Samuel, it develops out of earlier versions of the story; and its links with the Latter Prophets appear more significant than with the Former Prophets.

Children play a complex part of each society because they are necessary for the flourishing of society and can become a commodity in mercantile society. The views concerning abortion, infanticide, and illegitimacy have always been tied to the valuation of young life, and although Jewish and Christian moral codes strictly forbade infanticide, Romans practiced infanticide regularly. Through an analysis of where children are placed in the afterlife, what abilities or lack of abilities are attributed to them, as well as if their parents are present exposes tensions between religious, political, and social taboos. This analysis will focus on the Christian texts, Apocalypse of Peter and the Apocalypse of Paul, to demonstrate the development of strict consequences in afterlife for those who commit abortion or infanticide. A trend of the gradual lowering of the status of children can be extrapolated from the differences in the texts. The Apocalypse of Peter places children in heaven with power of their own, while the Apocalypse of Paul takes the power of retribution from the children and places them in a limbo-like state. The Apocalypse of Peter reveals an attempt to address and rectify the practice of abortion and infanticide by warning parents that those children will one day look into their eyes and enact justice on their own behalf. The Apocalypse of Paul shows children truly defenseless even in the underworld, and the loss of power leads to a greater reliance on angels and the status of their final resting place is demoted.

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I will investigate the portrayal of work in the Gospel of Mark to analyze how this text genders work and ascribes value to mission work. Mark portrays work as gendered: only fishermen are chosen to belong to the Twelve (although an inscription tells us of the presence of fisherwomen) while women perform service in anointing (Mark 14:3-9) and in provisioning (Mk. 15:40-41). It is not clear, however, to what degree work was gendered typically in this historical setting. Studies of agrarian economies show considerable overlap in the tasks of male and female subsistence agricultural workers. Cross-cultural studies of slave societies and studies of Roman slavery in the eastern Mediterranean both indicate that men and women slaves performed many of the same tasks. In addition to the deployment of gender, Mark contributes to further stratification in his depictions of work when he distinguishes between more usual occupations (fishermen, farmers) and that of those whom Jesus calls away to form the special group of disciples. Work then appears as a means to subsistence that lacks value in itself. In contrast, studies of inscriptions of workers from Rome and Ostia have argued that workers valued their occupations as an integral part of their identities. It seems that many contemporary interpreters of the gospel texts adopt uncritically Mark’s portrayal in the values they attribute to work with respect to gender and mission-status. While some view the work of the women in Mark 14 and 15 as mission work, others regard it as typical women’s service work. Neither of these groups investigates women’s socioeconomic status as workers. I propose to investigate more closely the situation for women’s work in first century Palestine.

This paper will survey the ways in which rabbinic sources depict Arabs. Special attention will be paid to the relationship between Ishmaelites, Midianites and the taya‘ae. In assessing statements about Arabs in the Talmud and in rabbinic literature on the whole previous scholars have concluded that the rabbis frequently express a low opinion of Arabs. While doubtless there are several statements that convey negative representations of them, rabbinic comments must not only be read in narrative context, but must be measured against other references to Arabs. Since references cannot be sufficiently located historically, or at least their historical location as of yet remains unconvincing, it might be more advantageous to consider which references reflect real encounters with Arabs, which are realistic, that is, have verisimilitude but are not factually true, or at least difficult to assess, and finally which reflect and refract stereotypes and as such are fictional. In this paper, I will examine three prevailing images: the licentious Arab, the Arab as thief, and the Arab as desert dweller.

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The question of the composition of Micah 6 and its relation to a possible exilic Book of the Four is important for the discussion of the composition of the Book of the Twelve. This chapter contains language that links back to Micah 1-3, as well as to Hosea and Amos. However, it also reflects post-Deuteronomistic elements, especially in vv. 4-5, as well as classic Deuteronomic formulations in vv. 10-15. Additionally, vv. 4-5, 16 directly reference the historical narratives in the Pentateuch and the Deuteronomistic History in a way that does not occur in Micah 1-3. Compositional theories for the chapter differ on the delimitations of earlier and later portions and their roles in an exilic Book of the Four, characterized by Deuteronomic language (Nogalski 1993; Schart 1998; Wohrle 2008). This paper will approach the question of the composition history of Micah 6 by analyzing the location and characteristics of the intertextual links with Hosea, Amos, the Pentateuch, and the Deuteronomistic History. I will argue that Mi 6:2-8, 16 form a frame around an earlier 6:9-15. The earlier portion consists of language that is linked through style and vocabulary to Hosea, Amos, and Deuteronomy, consistent with inclusion in an earlier Deuteronomistic corpus (Schart 1998). However, 6:2-8, 16 do not only share language with other texts. These verses use intertextuality differently, by explicit reference to other texts for the purposes of creating structure, meaning, and links to previous material. This frame references people and events in the Pentateuch and Deuteronomistic History, creating a structure for the chapter from a creative re-working of Deuteronomistic recitals of Israel’s history, such as are found in Joshua 24 and 1 Samuel 12. This frame assumes that the reader knows portions of the Pentateuch and Deuteronomistic History and can fill in gaps based on that knowledge. In addition, the frame links back to Hosea and Micah 1-3 through clear references to Hos 4:1;12:3 in 6:2 (Schart 1998). This frame assists the reader in placing the message of Micah into the broader narrative of Israel’s story, as told in the Pentateuch and Deuteronomistic History.

Open source grammar was pioneered within the context of a four-year undergraduate liberal arts college. The learning materials are freely available online using open source systems, facilitating their use especially by undergraduate students and users in developing countries. The learning materials are derived entirely from the Masoretic text, and student activities contribute to a collaboratively built analysis of the text. The framework of analysis is designed using a functional approach to grammar, in contrast to a formal approach. The paradigm of the functional approach is to view the Hebrew language as a tool of communication within its social context. Within this Hebrew learning management system learning is social too, as students work together in online exercises to absorb the language. Learning is blended, as it is a mix of online activities and live interactions with instructors. And learning is collaborative, as students do research with their instructor by analyzing biblical Hebrew texts. Their works contributes to the functional database of clauses that is built over the Biblical Hebrew corpus.

P.Ant.1.12 is a parchment fragment of a codex that contained 2 John. The dating of P.Ant. 12 by scholars varies greatly. Roberts, compared the hand to P.Lond. Lit.192, P.Oxy. 656 and P.Beatty 10 and dated the hand to III. Cavallo dated P.Ant 12 to first half or middle of fifth century but gave no basis for the dating. Aland listed P.Ant.12 as IV/V, again without giving a reason. M. Kruger has recently dated P.Ant.1.12 to the fifth century because of its size ( 8.8 x 7.3 cm); the script (proto Alexandrian Majuscule); a peculiar nomina sacra and its punctuation. This paper will seek to shift through the dating issues that relate to P.Ant.12 and provide an assessment of a reasonable time period for its production.

Law focuses on achieving prescribed predictable results. But what does the law do to the hapless persons caught within its slow-moving gears, whether as victim or perpetrator? There are many legal situations where the limitations of law make it come across as unjust and quixotic and where law fails to fulfill our need for justice. Law and its practitioners want to polish the system, move cases along, create a process that allows for rules to develop and precedents to evolve. But people look to the law to provide solutions to their grievances, to fulfill moral lessons, and to better themselves and their communities. This disjunction between law and justice has been explored in recent decades by law school faculty working in the areas of critical legal studies and human rights. This paper will critically apply the work of a number of these scholars (Martha Minow, Thane Rosenbaum, Nicholas Tavuchis, and Richard Weisberg) to biblical law in order to explore the issues of justice and legal rights and responsibilities.

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In recent discussions of hotly debated topic as the historical Jesus or the Sayings Gospel Q the “space” of first-century Galilee has assumed an increasingly relevant role. The present paper will examine a few authors from different epochs (from Renan through Sean Freyne and Richard Horsley) to shed light on the ways in which the scholarly imagination of this ancient space reveals and/or hides the ideological agendas embedded in these constructions of an ideal religious and socio-political environment. Such an analysis will rely on the critical insights of Henri Lefebvre and other theorists inspired by his understanding of “space” as a socio-cultural product. In this perspective, the critical analysis looks at the ideological and socio-political impulses that shape the production of space in order to understand how such construct in turn shapes social perceptions and political practices, in this case through the advancement of specific cultural and religious agendas.

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Translators treat the Aramaic word BHL in various ways. Most of the translations (CEB, ESV, NASB, NET, NKJV, and RSV) treat the second verb as a verb of emotion, denoting “stress”, “anxiousness”, or “worry.” While some verses carry a stronger meaning of “alarm” (ESV, NET), two of the translations, namely the NLT and NRSV, render BHL much more strongly, as a verb denoting “terror”. In this paper, I will argue that the traditional renderings of BHL, such as “disturbed” or “distressed,” fail to convey fully the intent of the writer. In order to demonstrate this, I will examine the passage in its larger historical and literary contexts, both canon-wide and particular to Daniel. First, I will examine historical evidence that lends insight to (in particular) Nebuchadnezzar, since elements of his character are demonstrated immediately prior to the passage at hand. Second, I will address the meaning of BHL relating to its literary context. It is important that we as readers consider the larger context of books as wholes. Even if Daniel or Belshazzar are not historical figures, the intent of the author can be ascertained simply by examining pericopai and diction surrounding the passage in question, specifically the king’s decree and the story of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego. Finally, I will explore linguistic parallels (if any, since KRH is a hapax), and observe that the two words KRH and BHL are parallel in meaning. This literary and historical evidence leads me to the conclusion that KRH should be translated more forcefully than traditionally thought, namely, that Daniel is not merely distressed by the situations where he is before the authority figures; rather, he is terrified at what might happen. Based on these data, I propose that BHL is a verb concerning fear rather than merely “distress”, and also contains an element of fear/panic where it is translated as “hastening”.

As African American and German-Turkish participants in a Wabash grant on partnered teaching, we will share our experience and perspective as scholars from two different fields, Hebrew Bible and Pastoral Theology and Psychology, in creating a partnered course bringing the two fields together for contemporary exegesis and readings of biblical texts in view of the pastoral care and counseling issue of God images. We will pay particular attention to how pastoral care and counseling needs to engage social location and power dynamics that are involved in the perception of biblical God images by mining Genesis 2-4 for an understanding of how God images may engender either trust, connectedness and shalom or fear, alienation and violence in self, others and community. This paper will present a work in progress.

Paul’s mention of the “the rock that followed Israel” (1 Cor 10:4) during its wilderness wanderings is considered by all to be one of Paul’s more perplexing uses of Scripture. Paul’s interpretive approach has been variously labelled as pesher, typology, allegory, and re-read Bible. Yet, none of the standard exegetical methodologies account for Paul’s bold assertion that that wilderness rock was in fact Christ (v. 4) or for his command “not to put Christ to the test, as some of them did, and were destroyed by serpents” (v. 9). While, a travelling rock can perhaps be deduced from the exodus-wilderness narrative, Christ as that rock is more problematic. This paper will explore the interpretive history of the exodus-wilderness "rock" narratives with a view to shedding light on Paul’s use of Scripture and his exegetical methodology in 1 Cor 10:1-11.

In the Deuteronomistic History there are a number of unnamed persons who function as prophets. In this paper I build upon the work of Adele Reinhartz who has highlighted the concept of anonymity in the Hebrew Bible. I examine 5 episodes in the DH where these anonymous prophets appear. These individuals speak to a king on one occasion (Ahab, King of Israel– 1 Kgs 20:13-43), to a future king on one occasion (Jehu, King of Israel – 2 Kgs 9:1-6), to a priest on one occasion (Eli – 1 Sam 2:27-36), to another unnamed prophet on one occasion (the old prophet from Bethel – 1 Kings 13) and finally to the people of Israel in still another (Judg 6:7-10). I argue that this particular grouping might suggest that these unnamed prophetic stories are programmatic for the redactor(s), addressing both leaders and people within Israel to emphasize YHWH’s concern for obedience. In these episodes either a rebuke is given to a prophet, a king and the tribes as a whole, or the end is proclaimed for a priestly house or a royal house. In addition, all five episodes appear in northern contexts. In the paper I argue for a relative chronology for theses episodes within the redactional shaping of the DH. I suggest that the thematic consistency points to these unnamed prophets as voices of Deuteronomistic ideology directed toward the northern tribes and their leaders – priestly, prophetic, and kingly.

The paper juxtaposes recent finds about large-scale text duplications (aka ‘harmonizations’) in the pre-Samaritan Pentateuch, together with new evidence about the production of text-editions of Homer during the Hellenistic period. The aim is to use what we know about Greek text editions as a point of leverage for understanding the production and circulation of early rewritten forms of the Torah. This effort was initially taken up by Saul Liebermann in 1950 and hardly revisited since then. Recent studies suggest that an early (pre-)pre-Samaritan version enacted a comprehensive reduplication of text-passages in order to smooth out the validity of speech-acts in the Torah (Zahn): commands and their fulfillments, events in the Sinai Account, and reduplication of the stories in Deut 1-3. These corrections were part of a deliberate attempt, academic in nature, to enhance the perfection of the Torah. This kind of act is not paralleled by Ancient Near Eastern ‘conflations’ as has been previously suggested. It finds an interesting parallel in the Aristotelian literary criticism and its offshoots in Hellenistic Alexandria. The pre-Samaritan text should thus be taken as an academic text, not a popular of vulgar one. The motivations for its reception or rejection by various early Jewish groups remain unnoted in the Hebrew environment, while on the other hand many important clues about this debate may be drawn from Jewish literature in Greek. The paper draws on a recent book by Maren Niehoff about Alexandrian scholarship in order to show that Hellenistic scholarship is relevant not only for biblical interpretation, nor for canonization only, but also for the standardization of the biblical text.

The aim of this paper is to determine the place that mimesis occupies in Johannine ethics. Johannine ethics has always been a problematic area for scholars but recently it received a new impetus: Jan G. van der Watt and Ruben Zimmermann (eds), Rethinking the Ethics of John (WUNT 1.291; Mohr Siebeck 2012). However, this volume contains no contribution on the topic of mimesis. And even though Richard Burridge uses the term “imitation” as a lens to explore New Testament ethics in his Imitating Jesus (Eerdmans 2007), he does not adequately unpack the (Johannine) concept. The central question of the paper is this: Is mimesis central, partial, or peripheral to Johannine ethics? I will first delineate the Johannine mimetic language in order to determine what exactly we will be looking for. Then, I will briefly outline the various forms of mimesis—the dominant Son-Father mimesis, a latent Spirit-Jesus mimesis, and the disciple-Jesus mimesis. I will then be in a position to determine the place of mimesis in Johannine ethics. Methodologically, there appears to be two main inroads into Johannine ethics: (i) we can look at people’s actions or behavior (cf. Jan van der Watt); (ii) we can look at the ethos that the Johannine narrative creates (cf. Richard Hays, Richard Burridge). Combining these two approaches, I suggest that the aim of Johannine mimesis is to shape and promote acceptable behavior that corresponds to the ethos (i.e. values and norms) of God’s family. With this in mind, I suggest a simple three-step procedure to determine the place of mimesis in Johannine ethics. First, considering the two most fruitful inroads into Johannine ethics—actions/behavior and ethos—I will identify a list of verbs that indicate moral actions in the Johannine corpus. Second, I will determine with which of these moral actions mimesis is connected. Third, I will ascertain the extent to which mimesis is both varied (in terms of mimetic expressions) and widespread (in terms of where mimesis occurs within the Johannine corpus). My findings lead me to conclude that mimesis is central to Johannine ethics.

While Spinoza, Astruc, Eichhorn, De Wete and Ewald all paid great attention to contradictions within Pentateuchal narrative, none paid attention to what today are evident contradictions within biblical law. This paper claims that the exercise of identifying seeming legal contradictions within the Pentateuch and assigning them to competing law codes—in short, what we call today the critical study of biblical law--is an invention of the late-nineteenth century. At root here is the distinction between two concpetions of what is meant by the word "law". Most modern expositors implicitly work with assumptions of law as *statutory* law, with the result that anachronistic notions about law continue to permeate discussions of biblical law. It is difficult to clear away intuitive assumptions without an alternate set of coordinates to assess the issue at hand in a new and different way. To move beyond a view of biblical law as statutory in nature, we need to identify a well-grounded empirical model that answers the fundamental questions: What is law? How is law determined? What is the role of sanctioned texts in determining that law? This paper seeks to re-appropriate the *common-law* tradition of jurisprudence as a heuristic aid for the study of ancient Near Eastern law generally and biblical law in particular. This approach to jurisprudence went largely out of favor in the mid-nineteenth century and we have lost touch with its basic assumptions. Re-engaging the common-law tradition will enable us to re-examine basic questions raised by the critical study of biblical law: What is the relationship between the genres of law and narrative? What are the mechanisms that governed the evolution of law in ancient Israel? How may we identify redactional layers in a text? What are the conditions that allowed for the formation of the Pentateuch?

In his Prescription Against the Heretics, Tertullian theorizes the theological function and repercussions of heresy within a broader discussion of the Christian desire to study, learn, and inquire assiduously. Nearly two centuries later, Jerome negotiates, in a series of commentaries (most notably those on Galatians and Titus), the necessity of Hebrew learning alongside an extended refutation of dialogical argumentation. This paper analyzes the intersection of pedagogical, scholastic, and exegetical techniques as they define and delimit the intellectual and theological function of heretics and Jews. I argue that Jerome and Tertullian use the Jews (and their elision with the heretics) not merely to evidence an outmoded, fallacious, and legalistic religious identity, but simultaneously to define epistemological boundaries, theorize human curiosity, and parse the validity of social (and theological) discourse. Tertullian champions dialogic and dialectic limitations in order to curtail the inquisitive ambitions among Christians. He begins with a contextual claim against the Jews, who had received Christ’s message and ignored it; the Jews become an exemplum around which he can parse the concomitant particularity and universality of the Gospel’s message. His second attack, a categorical proposition that the Christian era has heralded an epistemological closure, challenges both the process and teleological virtue of investigation. While Tertullian’s principal argument against inquiry reflects a fear of upending the certainty of apostolic tradition (and receding back toward an errant Jewish worldview or toward a heretical one), Jerome’s formulation of interpretation operates not out of fear of inquiry but from a position of scholastic potentiality: it is a question of defining the proper manner of inquisition. Harnessing the power of Hebraic scholasticism, Jerome uses his biblical commentaries (1) to articulate the technical process by which a text can be clarified, (2) to circumscribe a distinctly Christian interpretive method of the Hebrew Bible, (3) to negotiate the value of the scholastic enterprise—as an outgrowth of linguistic aptitude—(4) and to define the value of scriptural knowledge as both a process and result.

This paper examines how Isaiah bridges the major intersections of the book (Isa 12-13; 27-28; 39-40; and 55-56) through the development of the theme of Yhwh's reign on Mt. Zion.

The beasts from the sea in Dan. 7 and the monsters, like Leviathan and Behemoth in 1 Enoch (60: 7–10), 4 Ezra (6: 49–52) and 2 Baruch (29: 4), have in common that their appearance combines creation and the eschatological end-time—one could also speak of ‘mythic time.’ Compared to the sea monsters in 1 Enoch, 4 Ezra and 2 Baruch, the mythical background of Daniel 7 is much more complex and difficult to discern. The symbolic speeches about the sea and the beasts, including the ‘little horn’, on one hand and the epiphanies of the ‘Ancient of Days’ and the ‘Son of Man’ on the other give rise to the question whether the Chaoskampf mythology is related to a certain religio-historical background. The aim of this paper is to analyze different approaches toward the imagined mythology. But: The real world of the author(s) in Dan. 7 is the time of the Antiochan crisis (167–163 BCE). The system of symbols and metaphors in the Book of Daniel refers to this epoch. And the uttered resentment against foreign rule, which was widespread in eschatological prophecies in Hellenistic times (cf. Demotic Chronicle, Oracle of the Potter), uses language and motifs that emphasize the cosmological and universal aspect of the chaos that the foreign rule provoked. Therefore, the persecution of Antiochus, his desecration and rebellion against God as the Most High, is the heart of the matter. The cosmological dimension that is guaranteed by the examined mythical backgrounds calls for ‘solutions’ that are, analogously, cosmological.

Christian polemic in second-century Lyons included the notion of education. Irenaeus, the bishop of Lyons, for instance characterizes the Valentinians as untaught, uneducated in the liberal arts. In addition to this pejorative presentation of his opponents, he presents through illustration, questions, and citation, his own command of a liberal education. He knows the arts, literature, music and mosaics; he knows the basic questions of natural science; and he knows the philosophers. But there is more to his use of paideia as a device in his polemic. He does more than merely demonstrate the superior education of the catholic polemicist in contrast to the Valentinian heretic. There is also his view of the history of salvation. Redemption of humanity, for Irenaeus, is the historical process of education, the perfection of immature humanity by means of the Father’s two hands, Logos and Sophia personified, the Son and the Spirit. Through this progressive, historical ministry, the Father’s Word and Wisdom make humanity fit for the kingdom of God, as they train the fleshly to be spiritual and the Adamic to be like Christ.

This paper presents a survey of the Holtzmann-Gundry thesis of the Synoptic Problem (i.e., three source theory) noting its main proponents, and highlighting the relative weight of its arguments in relation to Two-Source, Griesbach, and Farrer-Goulder theories. It also offers a short study of Matt 8:5-13/Luke 7:1-10, 13:28-30 as evidence for its position in affirming both the existence Q and Lucan usage of Matthew.

This paper will investigate the resurgence of reception history in biblical studies and investigate charges by recent readers that what appears to be innovation and an interest in textual multivocity is not that at all, but rather, a hearkening back to traditional, essentialist readings. What, one wonders, is really at stake in such a tussle? The paper tests recent critical objections to the rise in reception history against an investigation of the interpretive history of the Song of Songs, in particular, certain texts that treat the ideas of presence and absence. These are read metaphorically against the “give and take” of reading and reception, in order to advance the possibility that the interest in reception history is interestingly and provocatively understood as part of a dialectic of readerly desire.

The Gospel of Mark emerged in a dominantly oral culture where such texts were performed and not read silently. What did these performances look like? Because we do not have direct access to first-century performances, we cannot offer categorical answers. Nevertheless, with the help of ancient texts that speak about the art of performance, scholars have offered tentative reconstructions. For example, Whitney Shiner, delving into such ancient authorities as Tacitus, Dio Chrysostom, Quintilian, Pliny the Younger, and Plato, has suggested a possible style of performance for Mark. The limitation of this approach, I will argue, is that it does not take the Jewish roots of the Jesus movement seriously enough. While these Hellenistic forces undoubtedly influenced the early Jesus movement, I will argue that Jewish performance practices are more of a primary influence. Because Mark was, in large part, patterned after the Elijah-Elisha cycles, it is only logical to assume that both Mark and the Elijah-Elisha cycle would have been performed in similar ways. If we can determine how the Elijah-Elisha cycles were performed, then we might have a sense of how Mark was performed. While there are less sources relating to Jewish performance compared to Hellenistic performance, there are nevertheless some hints that can be exploited. Looking to the Damascus Document, Philo, Josephus, Luke and Paul, I will create a sketch of what early Jewish (and early Christian) performances might have looked like. From this, I will argue that a performance of Mark would have likely been quite a bit less extravagant from what scholars such as Shiner have suggested.

Since the pioneering work of Marcel Mauss, a distinction has been made between gift and commodity. Gifts carry with them part of the personality of the giver, create lasting social ties, and imply an obligation to return a counter-gift; commodities are disassociated from particular persons and their exchange creates no lasting social bond. Paul’s letters to Corinth indicate that the classification of a transaction is itself a significant sociopolitical act in that it carries implications for the construction of social relations. In 1 Cor 9, Paul describes labor spent in evangelistic endeavors as remunerable, thus placing it into the category of the commodity. By pointing out that other apostles, such as Peter, accepted remuneration for their evangelistic labors, Paul portrays their labor as a commodity. Paul, however, claims to be entitled to remuneration, yet refuses to accept it (1 Cor 9:3–18). His refusal to commodify his evangelistic labor entails a reclassification of that labor as a gift. Under gift-giving norms, the “gift” of Paul’s labor would tie the Corinthians to Paul in a durable relationship of reciprocal interaction, whereas the commodified labor of Peter carried no such obligation for future interaction. Paul’s classification of his own labor as gift therefore lays the groundwork for future mutual interactions between himself and the Corinthian community; he hints at such an opportunity in 1 Cor 15:5–6, when he requests both lodging in the city and (implicitly) material support for his subsequent travels.

A pair of lines in the Aramaic Book of Ahiqar (TAD: 126 & 128) advises the listener against “bending the bow” or “mounting the arrow” against a righteous person. Metaphorically, the bow and arrow can indicate a variety of things, such as oppression or even virility, but how they are to be understood in these sayings is unclear. The issue seemingly has to do with humility or deference to authority, yet the question remains concerning the practical application of these sayings, i.e. what Ahiqar is specifically telling his audience not to do. I suggest that the answer can be found by comparing these sayings with passages in the biblical Psalms that exhibit similar imagery (Pss 11, 57, 64), wherein the bow and arrow are connected to harmful or dangerous words. In light of the biblical metaphors and Ahiqar’s emphasis on controlled speech, I argue that the arrow sayings in Ahiqar should be understood as exhortations against lying and slander. Reading Ahiqar beside some of the Psalms not only allows for further elucidation of the often fragmentary and enigmatic Aramaic instructions, but also provides the opportunity to put the biblical text into conversation with a contemporary extra-biblical source that draws on similar imagery to convey meaning.

Jewish-Hellenistic authors were aware of the importance of Greek myth as a symbolic marker of power and identity. Arguably in opposition to their fierce denial of Jewish myth and their caricatures of Greek myth, Jews repeatedly invented links between the Hebrew Bible and Greek mythology: Abraham’s granddaughter married Herakles, it is said, and the biblical Henoch is identified with Atlas. One important example of such a double strategy is the Jewish-Roman historian Flavius Josephus (Bloch, Moses und der Mythos, 2011). In this paper I will discuss a similar approach in the Hebrew Josippon, the most important work of reception of Josephus in the middle ages (10th century, Southern Italy). Like his role model Josephus in the Jewish War, the author of Josippon describes in great detail the history leading up to the Jewish-Roman war. But Josippon sets off even earlier, with the mythical prehistory. Chapter two is a long report on the early history of Italy and the whereabouts of the Jews at the time. The author of Josippon connects Jewish and Roman myth in a way which recalls Jewish-Hellenistic appropriations of pagan mythology: Thus, the story of the abduction of the Sabine women is intertwined with biblical genealogy. Zepho, grandson of Esau, slips into the role of Hercules and liberates Rome from a monster. And Romulus seeks the support of the much more powerful king David. I would like to suggest that by rewriting Roman and Jewish mythology, the author of Josippon attempts to clarify his relationship to Italy. With the help of myth, Josippon forges a relationship with Rome which is quite different from Rabbinic polemics, but has much in common with its predecessor Josephus.

The results of several radiocarbon dating projects that were conducted in Israel in the last decade brought about two revolutions: 1) Methodological, in the way we date archaeological strata; 2) Historical, in our ability to accurately connect between archaeological finds and historical events and processes. The lecture will demonstrate both developments. Methodologically, by using micro-archaeological tools, strict control on the archaeological context and laboratory prescreening methods, it is possible to obtain accurate and precise dates for a long sequence with very few outliers. This allows us to address chronological questions that need high precision in order to be resolved. Historically, the new data provide a skeleton for the dating of the entire sequence of the Iron Age in the Levant. They shed light on topics such as the demise of the "late-Canaanite" cities in the northern valleys during the 10th century, the Israel-Aram conflicts in the 9th century and the territorial expansion of Judah in the late 9th century BCE.

Designed as an orientation for this session, this paper will trace recent trends in ethical reflection as well as poetic analysis on the Hebrew Bible focusing on trajectories which show greater diversity in the strategies used for analyzing poetry and in the textual resources employed for ethics.

In his study of sacrificial ritual, Jonathan Z. Smith moves away from the location of sacrifice in a primal story or a quest for origins, and reorients attention to a "detailed examination of elaborations." In other words, the concept of sacrifice cannot be reduced to the dramatic moment, wherein the origin can be explained by a single act, but must instead have in view the total ritual ensemble. The elaboration that Smith identifies at the heart of the ritual practice of sacrifice is domestication, the socio-cultural process of becoming a people of one place. This study will employ Jonathan Z. Smith's theory of sacrifice as a lens for reading the diverse ritual concerns of the Holiness Code. When viewed through the lens of “the domestication of sacrifice,” the meditation on sacrifice presented as the opening injunction of H can illuminate the complex relationship between sacrifice, people, priests, and land that is crucial for the futurity of both the community and the land. This paper will proceed by first elaborating upon Smith’s ritual theory, and then will work through the text of the Holiness Code with the theory as a lens for interpretation.

Like many Middle Eastern manuscript traditions, that of the Syriac Life of Symeon the Stylite (the Elder) lacks comprehensive examination. At least fifteen manuscripts preserve the Syriac Life of Symeon, including Georgian and Arabic translations, but scholarship has overwhelmingly focused on two of the most remarkable manuscripts, the fifth-century Vatican Syriac Manuscript 160 ff. 1-80 (V) and the sixth-century British Library Add. 14484 ff. 48-133 (B1), each containing different versions of the Life. Scholars have, however, overlooked fragments of a third manuscript also dating to the sixth century. These fragments, originally separate, are also bound in British Library Add. 14484 (ff. 134-151, henceforth B2), comprising approximately thirty percent of the Life, but they relate a third recension of the Life which diverges substantially from both B1 and V. Together, these three manuscripts provide critical information regarding the earliest stratum of manuscript production of the Syriac Life of Symeon. This presentation compares the fragments of the hitherto overlooked B2 with equivalent sections in B1 and V, clarifying the relationship between the three manuscripts. It locates the Syrian town of Telneshe as a center of manuscript production, concretely linking Symeon’s monastery with the manuscripts of the Life. Finally, it provides recommendations for study of the later manuscripts of the Life, highlighting the significance of the tenth-century Georgian translation in Monastery of Saint Catherine at Mount Sinai Georgian Manuscript 6. A critical assessment of all three late antique manuscripts of the Syriac Life of Symeon is indispensable for scholars working with this text and lays the foundation for a full examination of the manuscript tradition. It also offers a compelling case study on late antique manuscript production, a topic for which relatively little direct manuscript evidence survives.

The conception of a lexicon as a semantic database is a new development in the lexicography of biblical languages. As a matter of necessity, dictionaries of Biblical Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek have traditionally been organized as print resources with a linear, alphabetic arrangement of independent entries, centered around headwords. Having been conceived of as a semantic database from the outset, the Bible Sense Lexicon (BSL) overcomes many limitations associated with print resources. Adapted from the work of the English WordNet project (http://wordnet.princeton.edu/), the BSL is organized around senses as the primary units, rather than lemmas or headwords. This inverts the traditional association between words and meaning, asking the question "what linguistic forms express this sense?", rather than "what meanings does this word have?". Meaning is also represented as a set of relationships between senses, not just a gloss or definition. For example, the synonymy relation groups words that can express the same sense. The hypernym/hyponym relation associates senses along the dimension of generality and specificity, indicating that, e.g., a "family" is a kind of "social group". This facilitates exploring related meanings (other kinds of "social groups" include "band", "clan", "tribe", etc.). The BSL also coordinates senses across all the biblical languages, allowing exploration of how meanings are expressed throughout the biblical text. The BSL is accompanied by a comprehensive annotation of the biblical text with contextually disambiguated senses, which enables semantic search and concordances, along with other meaning-based analysis of the corpus.

This paper argues that the biblical exegesis pursued by late second- and early third-century church teachers like Irenaeus, Tertullian and Clement of Alexandria is often closely related to the Christian reading strategy variously referred to as the Rule of Truth/Faith (regula fidei) or the Ecclesiastical Canon (kanon ekklesiastikos). Being both profoundly hermeneutical and theological, the Rule of Faith emerges as a powerful interpretive device through its capacity of linking pre-baptismal confessional language with conventional scriptural usage and first-/second-century Christian teaching-patterns. The Rule is the “agreement and unity of the Law and the Prophets and the Testament delivered at the coming of the Lord” (Clement); it is thought to have its origin “in Christ himself” (Clement, Tertullian), or “the apostles of Christ” (Irenaeus). Thus, to Tertullian the regula is necessary for scriptural exposition. In his two extant writings, Irenaeus likewise frequently structures his scriptural expositions around the regula fidei. Scripture and regula are here variously connected, together determining the “order” and “connection/sequence” of the Scriptures, as well as their unity as a corpus. Thus, the bishop of Lyons can say that the Gospels “all teach the same.” Beyond the recurring unity–diversity emphasis, the paper highlights references involving the regula to summaries (or short-forms) of Scripture and faith. Traditional themes commonly included in discussions on biblical theology that surface in these writers’ appeal to the Rule of Faith include: salvation-historical reading of Scripture, typical inclusion of traditional Christ-creed material (e.g., “proof-from-prophecy” exposition), standard references to christological monotheism, and dyadic or triadic organizing of the faith. Interestingly, the appeal to the regula also shows structural similarities to the developing scribal nomina-sacra practice, which, again, brings text, interpretation, exegesis and theology into close relationship. “Emergent biblical theology” here effectively captures what is happening on the written page of these patristic exegetes.

Despite the power of the Roman Empire in the Aramaic speaking world the intersection of Aramaic and Latin on inscriptions is minimal. The few Latin-Aramaic bilingual inscriptions that do exist can be found throughout the ancient world from Britain to Palmyra. The Altar to Sol and Malakbel (ILS 4337; PAT 0248) is one such piece. Previous scholars have concluded that neither the Latin or Palmyrene Aramaic text is a translation of the other. However, by reanalyzing the morphology and syntax of the Aramaic inscription, this study provides a new understanding of the Palmyrene Aramaic text as a translation of the Latin text. This reinterpretation is largely motivated by a new understanding of šlm, the final word in the Aramaic inscription. Previous scholars have read šlm as an acclamation closing the dedication to Malakbel and the gods of Palmyra; however, in light of the syntax of other dedicatory altars found at Palmyra and abroad, šlm should instead be understood as a verbal form parallel to the Latin inscription. Thus, the Palmyrene inscription almost directly follows the Latin text, which suggests that the Aramaic text is a translation of the Latin inscription. Additionally, the omission of regular Aramaic inscriptional formulae bolsters the theory that the Aramaic was secondary to the Latin and that the author of the Aramaic inscription used the Latin text as his source text.

Attempts to apply sociorhetorical interpretation’s “narrational texture” to the analysis of non-narrative texts raise a number of questions. For example, can non-narrative texts be said to have a “narrator,” “characters,” and “plot”? Or, if there are “voices” in non-narrative texts, what kind of voices are they? Finally, and perhaps most significantly, when analyzing narrative texts would sociorhetorical interpretation benefit from a more focused narratologically-informed understanding of narrative and its components? The paper seeks to shed light on these and related issues.

Josephus' presentation of Salome Alexandra is one of extremes. On one hand, she is an independent queen who is able to remain at the height of Judean society through three reigns, and exerts great influence throughout this process, even ending a civil war. On the other hand, every move made by Salome Alexandra seems to be controlled or undermined by male figures, whether her husband, her son, or the Pharisees. Unsurprisingly, Josephus himself has a hard time evaluating Salome Alexandra's reign. This paper will investigate three key points in her career (the freeing of Alexander, the usurpation of the throne, and her reaction to her son's coup) in an attempt to place Salome Alexandra's strategies in the context of Hellenistic females, particularly those in the ruling class. It is hoped that this will reveal Salome Alexandra to be far from the weak and bullied ruler she seems to be upon first consideration.

What is the most useful way of presenting the verb to a student of Biblical Hebrew? Traditionally, the verb is introduced in the order of suffixed verb (or perfect/qatal), prefixed verb (imperfect/yiqtol), imperative, infinitive, and participle. While there may be flexibility in those verbs at the end of the process, the initial ordering of suffixed verbs followed by prefixed verbs is fairly standard in the literature with some notable recent exceptions. The thesis of this paper is that for theoretical, pedagogical, and pragmatic reasons, the best verb form to introduce first to the student is the imperative. First, following on the work of research in morphology, I will show that the masculine singular imperative form is a much more informative base and works much better as a lexical item than either the bare, consonantal root or the Qal Perfect 3ms. Additionally, studies in language acquisition in children suggest that for children learning Hebrew, the first verb acquired is the imperative. Second, from a pedagogical perspective, it can be shown that working from the imperative to the prefixed verb is a much simpler presentation of the verb system, requiring less memorization on the part of the student. The simplicity of the system is true not only in the Qal strong patterns, but is even much more evident once weak verbs and derived stems are included in the discussion. This process of verb patterning is the crux of the material in this presentation. Finally, from the perspective of classroom pragmatics, it can be shown that the use of imperatives of the most common verbs, from all weak patterns and derived stems, creates a more active environment from the beginning of the learning process.

Usually translated as faithfulness or loving-kindness, the word hesed includes the concept of “mercy.” As an eminently divine quality hesed is at home in texts that contain the well-known refrain describing God’s nature (Exod. 34:6; Nbrs. 14:18; Jon. 4: 13 and related passages). There and elsewhere hesed occurs within a cluster of qualities, including rahum, hanun and emet. As the Hebrew Bible generally requires of the covenant community that it emulate certain penchants belonging to God, human beings are also required to exhibit hesed, particularly in human relationships, (Gen.21:23; Josh.2: 12; Ruth 3:10, for example). Humankind can thus be said to be under a mandate to pursue hesed, while at the same time this quality is according to Psalm 23:6 in pursuit of the believer. In final instance hesed may identify what it means to be God as well as godly.

The so-called ‘epic’ passions of the martyrs (as the Bollandist Delehaye calls them) are ambiguous texts. On the one hand, they present themselves as historical documents that play a part in the developing cult of the martyrs. On the other hand, in their efforts to meet the public’s need of entertainment, they use and adapt elements that can be linked to ancient fictional traditions. This paper focuses on one epic passion from the fifth century, the Latin Passio Caeciliae, and aims to demonstrate that in this passion intimate interconnections with such fictional traditions surface predominantly in the realm of character construction. The characters of the epic passions are generally considered to be stereotypes. Broadly speaking, to be sure, there is indeed a clear contrast between morally elevated (sancti or beati) martyrs and morally inferior (insani or sceleratissimi) persecutors. But I argue, firstly, that in the passio Caeciliae things are more complex: this text individuates the characters of Caecilia and others by documenting other-than-moral areas of their representation, such as rhetorical ability. Secondly, I connect this observation to the ancient Greek novel, where character individuation has also been suggested to operate alongside typification in the thematic area of rhetorical ability. I suggest that, not only in terms of topoi but also with respect to character individuation, this passio seems to have taken shape in close contact with the pagan novelistic tradition. As a ‘Christian novella’, I argue, it tailors the literary and rhetorical techniques of a common novelistic literary culture to its Christian environment.

Early Christian identity had its formative development in the urban households of the Mediterranean world. In this study of developing Christian presence in the Roman province of Bithynia, I look at this unfolding as an ambiguous, fissiparous process rather than a seamless cultural transformation. A scrutiny of domestic worship reveals not only hierarchical social structures, but also how meals, dress, and even greetings become ritualized behaviour, directing attention to control of bodies. These practices were essentially meaning-making behaviours, establishing insiders and “othering” non-participants. The Petrine Epistles reveal some aspects of interaction with such domestic religiosity. In these Letters a trajectory of disciplining especially women’s bodies can readily be detected within the late first-century Jesus movement.

In 2 Corinthians 10:3-6 Paul’s battle imagery presents his readers with a cosmology integrated with his epistemology and anthropology. Consequently, Paul’s arguments in chs.10-13 are about more than a defense of his apostleship as many commentators assume. He sees something more fundamental at stake—the very minds and lives of the Corinthians (11:3-6; 13-15). His struggle, therefore, is not just about the rivals at Corinth but about the power he perceives as located behind the rivals. This paper presents two related points. First, it presents the importance of the mind for Paul’s cosmic battle. Second, it demonstrates that Paul’s view participates in a wider cultural discourse in which connections between cosmology, epistemology, and anthropology exist. Therefore, although the integration of the mind, knowledge, and the spirit world in 2 Cor. 10-11 has not been sufficiently recognized, it warrants greater attention. The argument of this paper proceeds in three phases. The first section consists of an examination of Paul’s use of the term ???µa. The second phase entails an analysis of other Jewish texts roughly contemporaneous with Paul, specifically the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, the Hodayot, and the Prayer of Levi. And, the third and final section concludes with two important implications: (1) the link Paul makes between the mind and the cosmological realm is one that needs to be discussed in relation to 2 Corinthians 10-11, especially in light of other Jewish texts, which show similar patterns, and (2) Paul’s argument in 10-11 shifts from one predicated merely upon a defense of his apostleship to one with an apocalyptic framework.

According to Origen, Aquila was the preferred translation amongst those without Hebrew in third century Palestine. It seems likely, however, that the Septuagint continued to be used in Jewish circles. Paul Kahle was convinced that Origen himself used a Palestinian recension of this text for his edition of the Septuagint. Kahle's proposal has significant implications for Jewish reception history. I shall review the relevant evidence, including the text of a recently published Jewish manuscript of the Greek Psalter that Origen may have used as one of his sources.

The Targumim to the Megilloth have long been recognized as being quite distinct from rest of the Targumic corpus. Sperber's oft cited comment that the targumim to the Megillot “are not Targum-texts but Midrash-texts in the disguise of Targum" is but one example (A. Sperber, The Bible in Aramaic Vol. IV A, The Hagiographa, [Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1968], p. viii). It has also been noted that there are certain exegetical similarities shared between the Targumim to the Megilloth (Étan Levine, The Aramaic Version of Ruth, [Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1973], p. 13). It is my contention that this variances from other Targumim and similarities with one another are due to their use within the liturgical context. For example, they are festival scrolls, to be read or studied in a single setting and thus provided the Targumist with a unique opportunity to develop exegetical themes over the course of the entire work. This paper will explore this proposal and consider how the liturgical and festival context impacted the development of the Targumim of the Megilloth.

Deborah and Jael (Judges 4-5 and the death of Sisera), Esther (especially Esther 8 in which she pleads with Xerxes to allow her people to defend themselves), and Judith (Judith 8-16 in which she devises and carries out a plan to kill Holofernes, the besieging Assyrian general) are four heroines in biblical and Apocryphal literature with blood on their hands. However, the texts not only exonerate but also praise all four. Yet biblical scholarship at times questions their actions and raises concerns about the use of force in general. A study of ancient literature reveals interesting comparisons. This paper looks at ancient heroines in classical works by Herodotus, Virgil, and Tacitus. It includes character studies about the Amazons, who figure in stories from Africa to Asia and reportedly mutilated their sons by cutting off their arms and legs; Princess Dido, the founder of Carthage, the great rival of Rome; Tomyris, who won a battle against Cyrus and carried out her threat of dipping his head in a sack of human blood; Anchita, the Spartan queen who sealed her son alive in Minerva's temple; Artemisia I, the heroine of the Battle of Salamis who blinded a young man who declined her affections; and Boadicea, who led an uprising against Rome in what became Britain in which 70,000 Roman soldiers perished. This paper finds that, in contrast to the heroines of other cultures, Deborah and Jael, Esther, and Judith responded with violence only when their people were threatened. Their actions were focused on the perpetrators, limited to the aggressors, within a specific time limit, and arguably tempered with mercy.

Biblical reception history and ideology intersect in many different ways. Some scholars examine how readers throughout history appropriate the biblical text according to their own ideologies, while others use the premise of reception history to read the text according to their own ideological appropriations. Still others seek to understand the ideologies of particular biblical texts by observing how they emerge in different communities over time. In this paper, I explore another point of intersection: the potential for reception historians to critique the ideology that often undergirds the core practices of biblical scholarship. I have called this constellation of assumptions "historical criticalism," and its principal presupposition is the primacy of the original text and its original meaning, which is supposedly found only with reference to the original context. These putative original texts and meanings form the pinnacle of ontological hierarchies, while derivative translations, copies, corruptions and later meanings occupy lower rungs on the chain of Being. Perhaps reception history, drawing on the textual-critical discoveries and critical theories developed in the last century, can lead scholars to question the boundary between the "original" and "later" versions, contexts and meanings. Without a distinction between original and later texts and meanings, the "objective" and universally valid hierarchy dissolves. Instead of assuming that there is one correct "original" text that belongs in a particular context and issues original meanings, biblical scholars can affirm the originary pluriformity of biblical texts, contexts and meanings. There are no texts and meanings which are objectively, universally "better" than other texts. And yet this "flat ontology" of biblical texts does not eradicate ideology or offer a post-ideological space to work. On the contrary, biblical scholars will continue to arrange, select and adjudicate texts, contexts and meanings, and all of these judgments rely upon ideological presuppositions. Reception history can continue to assert that all arrangements are provisional, and furthermore, it can reflect the questions and presuppositions of those asking the questions. Instead of assuming that one searches for the original text, biblical scholars might offer their own criteria by which they have selected the texts, contexts and meanings which they have chosen to study. These might be historical, ethical, aesthetic, or theological criteria. For example, one might select to study a version of the book of Daniel without Bel and the Dragon or Susanna because it is the version of the book favored by one's religious community, or because it reflects a text available at a particular moment in time and space, or because of its aesthetic or narrative qualities relative to other versions. By enunciating the criteria by which one chooses texts, contexts and meanings, biblical scholars can then engage in more direct ideological criticism.

This study will attempt to demonstrate a link between an allegorical reading of the Samson cycle and the characters of Aseneth and Joseph in the pseudepigraphon bearing their names. An allegorical reading of the encounter of Samson with the lion sees the lion as a metaphor for the Philistines, specifically of Samson's foreign bride. The honey that Samson draws out of the lion symbolizes true Israel. This reading is encouraged by the Septuagint's interpretation of Judges 15, where the water Samson craves after killing a thousand men with a jawbone issues forth from the jawbone itself. From a polluted thing, in both his encounter with the lion and his battle with the jawbone, Samson draws forth something life-giving and sweet. In Joseph and Aseneth, Joseph is cast as the new Samson, only instead of defeating his enemy as represented by the foreign bride, he redeems Aseneth as foreign woman by feeding her honeycomb. The author reverses the meaning of the Samson cycle ironically. This makes sense of the elusive meaning of the honeycomb and the bees, and ties together seemingly disparate elements in the story.

Acknowledging the influence of conquest themes in the formation of settler colonial imaginaries, this essay re-examines the scholarly debates surrounding the composition of Joshua. Against expectations, the earliest expressions of the "ban" ideology appear to reflect intra-indigenous conflict. The subsequent influences of Deuteronomistic ideas in the Joshua narratives mimic Assyrian models, while affirming Judean national identity over against imperial impositions. Later Priestly editing in Josh 8:30-35 (MT) multiplies the paradoxes of how to read the “immigrant” discourses in Joshua.

In recent year there have been new attempts in reconstructing the metaphorical background of the interpretation of Christ's death in Pauline and Johannine tradition. There has also been several divergent proposals on how Mark understands the meaning of Jesus' crucifixion. The paper reviews current research and attempts to fit Mark's view on the meaning of the death of Jesus into the development of early Christian thought on the meaning of Christ's death.

This paper explores John’s use of Scripture from the standpoint of memory theory. Following the lead of Tom Thatcher, who posits that John crafted his Gospel by means of established Greco-Roman mnemotechniques, especially interior visualization, we attempt to further reconstruct John’s complex profile as a social memorian and practitioner of ancient memory arts. We give special attention to the way in which John skillfully launches his recollections of the Jesus event across the remembered landscape of Israel’s ancestral past. Thus John does not simply recount reminiscences based upon his personal participation, but shapes his portrayal of Jesus in relation to an underlying subtext (the Septuagint) deeply seated within the collective memory of ancient Judaism. We exploit the phenomenon of “sympathetic resonance” as a metaphor to express the rich interplay obtained by John’s dynamic superimposition of remembered traditions. We begin by examining John’s Farewell Discourse, Passion Narrative, and Epilogue in order to establish his role as a social memorian (particularly vis-à-vis that of Simon Peter). We then turn to the Prologue to determine the nature of John’s memorial project in relationship to Jewish Scripture. This investigation is followed by an analysis of selected semeia to ascertain how the mnemonist John tells his story via the employment of memory arts, principally the Latin place system of loci and images. One of our unique contributions is to suggest that John used the backdrop of the Jewish Scriptures as the primary locus upon which to place his memory images. The presentation draws on insights from theorists working in a variety of subdisciplines, including memory, performance criticism, sacred/social space, intertextuality, and narratology. We hope to demonstrate that by weaving together and applying research from such diverse areas we will discover a valuable tool for better understanding John’s sophisticated approach to Scripture.

This paper relies on the work of psychoanalytic literary theorist Leo Bersani to examine how the gospel of Mark necessarily generates desire through its narrative of Jesus’ body-in-crisis, and how this desire creates a psychical crisis for the gospel’s audience. In The Freudian Body, Bersani contends that the most interesting and significant feature of Freud’s Three Essays on Sexuality is its failure: its failure to arrive at a definition of sexuality. This failure depends, according to Bersani, on the nature of sexuality itself. For sexuality is, Bersani suggests, based on his reading of Freud’s failures, a tautology for masochism. Sexuality is a name for overwhelming, psychically disturbing, corporeally disorganizing experiences. In The Freudian Body and Arts of Impoverishment, Bersani traces how these corporeal and psychic excitations that bear the name sexuality are experienced through literature and visual art. Treating examples as different as the Marquis de Sade’s novels and Mark Rothko’s abstract expressionist canvases, Bersani underscores that their shared refusal of the audience’s attempt to enter the artwork, to find meaning, to make sense, to read, to see. By this very refusal, this very impossibility the work’s elicit the audience’s desire by enticing it along the work’s surface, as it desperately tries to penetrate, to enter, to know, to connect, to master. This movement, and its failures, of course, resemble the frantic movement over the body of the other and the (dis)pleasures associated with the other’s perpetual distance from desire’s desire to possess. This form of psychically unsettling excitation can be traced across the narrative trajectories of the gospel of Mark. First, Mark’s Jesus is a remarkably enigmatic figure. He is at the center of the story, but constantly refuses attempts to know, to understand, to identify. The story’s midpoint is built around a radical misunderstanding and a new articulation of mission that depends on self-loss, pain and violence. Second, Mark’s Jesus moves from the violent control of his environment to being violently controlled by it. Insofar as the audience is compelled to identify with Jesus initially, they are trapped in masochistic trauma eventually. The desire to know and to be Jesus is a dangerous, because endangering, desire. Third, Mark’s Jesus is absent at the narrative’s conclusion. After eliciting fascination and inducing trauma, the narrative suspends the desire it has generated, leaving it in motion as it permanently fails to find satisfaction. On this understanding of desire—desire as a violent interruption of the subject’s attempts to engage the world—the traumatic conclusion of Mark’s gospel signifies its essentially pornographic character, not based on its sexual explicitness, but on its affective machinations. This interruption of the subject’s stability, however, prevents the subject from occupying a position of mastering, control, superiority and agency, unsettling its relation to power—and power-over, thus performing a radical transformation that can be named as good news.

To clarify the context for 1 Corinthians’ use of scripture, this paper will look at the document’s genre, and will indicate some of the evidence that 1 Corinthians, while at one level following the genre of a spontaneous situational letter, at another has features of a studied essay suited for a widespread long-term audience. First, the paper examines 1 Corinthians’ structure, themes and sources. Regarding structure and themes, the document consists especially of five distinct blocks (chapters 1-4, 5-7, 8-11, 12-14, 15-16). Each block has one major unifying theme and is divided in half, each half having two parts or “sections”. The resulting twenty “sections” coincide largely with the traditional division into sixteen chapters, except that four of the chapters (7 and the final three) contain two “sections”. The paper indicates key aspects of each of the five blocks, and 1 Corinthians begins to emerge as a document planned with precision, virtually encyclopaedic in scope. Regarding sources, the paper gives initial indications of 1 Corinthians’ systematic synthesizing and adaptation of scripture, including the Pentateuch. This process of adaptation seems so comprehensive, complex and precise that it reinforces the evidence that 1 Corinthians is primarily a programmatic far-reaching epistle rather than a situational letter.

Most interpreters of the New Testament Household Codes (e.g., Eph 5:22–6:9) construe the separate elements as discrete, i.e., as if the wives, husbands, children, and parents were free, and as if the enslaved persons were not in families. This is in line with early patristic interpretation. In their commentaries on the Ephesians Household Code, John Chrysostom (4th C.) and Theodoret (5th C.) take the wives, husbands, children, and parents as free. Chrysostom explicitly defines enslaved husbands as having authority over their wives, thereby seeing enslaved families as subordinate, but intact. Such interpretation yields the image of a harmoniously managed, slaveholding Christian household, which is exactly what Chrysostom presents. Using the methods of social history and the frameworks of intersectionality theory and of ideological criticism, I challenge this view to reveal the moral dilemmas and contradictions that likely faced enslaved wives, husbands, children, and parents. I first review those Roman legal and papyrological sources that point to efforts to keep enslaved families intact, which would imply at least some recognition of a long-term sexual relationship between the parents and of parents’ authority over their children. In line with Chrysostom’s ideal, some early Christian masters and mistresses may have respected enslaved families as intact. The weight of the historical evidence, however, tends in the direction of the significant vulnerability of enslaved families to separation. Among papyrological sources, I discuss deeds of sale, which are nearly always of individual enslaved persons, sometimes of very young children; and wet-nurse contracts in which enslaved wet nurses were hired out to nurse in another household and separated from their own families, including being prohibited from sex with their infant’s father. A range of sources on enslaved sex work and on masters’ sexual access to their enslaved laborers illustrates another challenge to family life faced by enslaved persons. I also review legal sources on inheritance, which was a vulnerable circumstance for enslaved families, who, except with large estates that could afford to keep enslaved families intact, were at high risk of being inherited by different individuals. Against the backdrop of what were probably frequent scenarios of enslaved Christian families unsuccessfully struggling to keep their families—of whatever constellation—intact and of facing the dilemma how to maintain whatever ideal of sexual continence they saw as incumbent upon themselves as Christians, I will intersectionally analyze specific moral challenges facing members of early Christian enslaved families hearing the Household Codes. My intersectional feminist analysis takes account of legal status as enslaved or free, gender, and status as child or parent (categories that were not legally recognized under Roman law for enslaved persons, except that all children born to enslaved mothers were legally enslaved). Based on this analysis, I will show what is ideologically and theologically at stake in the early patristic view of early Christian enslaved families as inferior, but largely intact (as Chrysostom and Theodoret have it), rather than highly vulnerable to separation and seen as individual extensions of their masters or mistresses.

Paul’s relationship with the Corinthian church was unique among his relationships with the churches he founded. It was, at times, a trying and strained relationship: his work in Corinth necessitated an eighteen-month stay, multiple visits, and perhaps some five letters. At the same time, Paul clearly considered the Corinthians to have special status among his churches and unique significance for his apostleship (see 1 Cor 9:1). 2 Corinthians 7:5–16 represents a key moment in the history of Paul’s labor among the Corinthians. This paper will examine the significance of 2 Cor 7:5–16 for Paul’s relationship with the Corinthian church by comparing it the parallel account 1 Thess 2:17–3:10. In both passages Paul recounts 1) learning about the welfare of one of his churches 2) from one of his closest co-workers; in both cases 3) he expresses his relief (2 Cor 7:6–7; 1 Thess 3:6–8) and, more importantly, 4) his (eschatological) joy that his labor has not proved to be in vain (2 Cor 7:7, 9, 13, 16; 1 Thess 2:19–20; 3:9). The comparison between 2 Cor 7:5–16 and 1 Thess 2:17–3:10 highlights the centrality of Paul’s churches for the fulfilment of his apostolic task and, hopefully, will further discussion concerning the place of 2 Cor 7:5–16 in the sequence of Paul’s writings to the Corinthians.

In the Johannine passion narrative, the Fourth Evangelist is primarily concerned with the unfolding drama of the revelation of God’s love for humankind. The phenomenon of circumventing human expectation appears in both the presentation of the glory of God and the means by which Jesus is glorified (through crucifixion). The process of Jesus’ glorification is presented as a five act drama across as many geographical locations. In the third of these acts, Jesus faces “the Jews” and Pilate through seven scenes as his earthly destiny is determined. This central moment of the passion drama becomes the focus for the audience as Jesus turns the tables and challenges Pilate with the truth that is his gift to the world. This paper explores the performance features embedded in this text as they cross the dramatic axis into the theatrical axis in terms of the staging of these seven scenes as Pilate moves outside and inside the praetorium to speak with “the Jews” who refuse to enter and Jesus who has been handed over to him for crimes against the state. The surreal scenes of the Roman governor flitting back and forth between the accusers and the accused seemingly trying to assuage both parties emulates physically the wavering Pilate’s own mental ambivalence on the challenge of Jesus who stands before him discussing kingship and truth. Jesus’ passion turns on Pilate’s inexorable decision. This act is thus the core of the drama by way of this distinctive dialogue between Jesus, Pilate, and “the Jews.” As Pilate investigates the crime set before him and wavers between the accusers and accused, he is stopped momentarily by his own question on the nature of truth. Leaving this question unanswered seals both Jesus and Pilate’s fate. At the same time, the audience is incited to step in, stop the vacillating, and offer its own answer to thereby determine its own destiny in faith and the glory of God.

This investigation opens with a survey of the socio-economic spectrum of Christian culture in Oxyrhynchus in the early 3rd century. The city had a substantial, active, and diverse Christian population that ranged across the socio-economic spectrum as illustrated by representative 3rd century papyri. At the lower end of the spectrum, we find several scraps of texts and hymns on the back of accounting documents (JEA 11 [1925]; P.Oxy. XV 1786; P.Oxy LXXVII 5106). In the middle, we find lots of fragments, including decently written copies of the Shepherd of Hermas and biblical commentary (P.Oxy. XV 1783 and Van Haelst 0691). On the high end, we find fewer documents, perhaps exemplified in Christian treatises and homilies (P.Oxy. XVII 2070 and P.Oxy. III 406). Thus, the papyri evidence shows a wide range of socio-economic locations for Christians in the 3rd century but mostly weighted toward the middle and lower end of the spectrum. Taking quality as an indicator of cost, P39 (P.Oxy. XV 1780) stands out as an excellent and expensive manuscript. The paper will present a detailed description of this fragment of John 8:14-22 with its wide margins, refined handwriting, and well-spaced letters. As with the broader evidence discussed above, most New Testament papyri of this period appear to fall in the middle (e.g. P20=P.Oxy. IX 1171; P69=P.Oxy XXIV 2383; and many others) or lower (e.g. P13=P.Oxy. IV 657 and P18=P.Oxy. VIII 1911) range of the socio-economic spectrum. P39 is one of the few New Testament manuscripts (perhaps along with P1=P.Oxy. I 1; also compare a copy of Job in P.Oxy. IX 1166) that represents the higher socio-economic strata of Christian culture at Oxyrhynchus in the early 3rd century.

See online: http://www.ibr-bbr.org (Research Groups: Biblical Theology, Hermeneutics, and the Theological Disciplines).

Luke employs a variety of christological images to express the identity of Jesus. Often these images are placed in a kind of christological tension, with the scholar saddled with the task of judging the most dominant among them. As nuanced and helpful as these studies can be, the works of, e.g., Johnson, Bock, Strauss, Moessner, Buckwalter, and Rowe all, to some extent, attempt to adjudicate between competing christological portraits, whether messianic, royal, prophetic, or lordly, rather than attempting a synthesis. In this paper, we take a circumscribed selection of texts, mainly texts that feature christological titles (alas, for the sake of time constraints), and apply a single concept borrowed from the communication theory of identity (Hecht et. al., 2005). Namely, that identity is comprised of layers which include personal, enactment, relational, and communal layers of identity. Very simply, we will view the christological tension in the Gospel of Luke as an expression of the relational layer of Jesus’ identity. We will approach the text from a literary perspective, giving attention to what the narrator says of Jesus, what other characters say about Jesus, and what Jesus says of himself when addressing different parties. With a certain amount of variance and acknowledging a few exceptions, we argue the following: Luke employs, in order to express the relational layer of the identity of Jesus, (1) messianic language with respect to Israel, especially those who accept Jesus’ coming with the proper response of faith and/or joy (1:32; 1:69; 2:11; 2:26; 9:20; 18:38-39; cf., however, 20:41; 22:67; 23:2; 24:26, 46); (2) the image of the prophet with respect to Israel, especially those who reject and oppose Jesus and seek his death (7:16; 7:39; 9:8; 9:19; 13:33; cf., however, 24:19); (3) the language of sonship (i.e., Son of God, which is inherently relational) with respect to God (3:22; 9:35; 10:21-22; cf. 20:13) and the heavenly realm (1:32; 1:35; 4:3; 4:9; 4:41; 8:28). We must bracket out the Son of man title, partly for reasons of scope and partly because it figures less into recent discussions of Luke’s christology; (4) the language of lordship with respect to the readers of the Gospel. In the end, different layers of identity cannot be completely separate, which means that we can view Jesus' overall identity as infused with all of these aspects taken from the relational layer of identity. In providing a variety of christological images based on the various viewpoints of different characters, Luke is engaged in expressing primarily the relational layer of the identity of Jesus. Luke does this in order to depict Jesus as the one through whom God’s relationship to Israel, and, more broadly, to humanity, is brought to its ultimate fulfillment.

In the book of Chronicles, the good kings are not only faithful to YHWH but they are also depicted as great builders. Solomon, who built the temple, is considered as the greater king of Judah and a special chapter depicts David preparing materials for the temple to give him some role in its construction. The other "good kings" built new cities or fortifications. On the other hand, the good king is also presented as the supplier of animals for the sacrifices, while in other books of the Hebrew Bible each family brings their own animals to the temple. Both construction and the supplying of animals contribute to the portrait of the king as a benefactor for the people. These features are reminiscent of the Hellenist kings using gifts to oblige the people, a way of rule that differentiates them from the Persian rulers. This presentation of the kings of Judah could be a supplementary clue in favor of Hellenistic influence on the Chronicler's work.

This will be among the first academic presentations relating to a stone statue recently unearthed during construction activities in downtown Amman (2010). The statue portrays a standing human figure and is preserved to a height of more than two meters. Although its immediate archaeological context contained no pottery or other associated material evidence, the statue is clearly situated within Iron Age sculptural traditions well represented by Assyrian royal statuary and relief and by numerous, smaller Ammonite statues. It is the first Iron Age statue of monumental scale ever recovered east or west of the Jordan, and the largest of its kind from the southern Levant. On the basis of parallels in Assyrian, Egyptian, and Ammonite art, this presentation will offer a comparative art historical analysis of form and motif demonstrating that the statue portrayed an Iron Age king. It will also welcome dialogue with archaeologists, art historians, epigraphers, and biblical scholars regarding these issues and basic matters that remain elusive, such as the likely date of the statue, the identity of the ruler portrayed, and the statue's religious-ideological and functional aspects. (Special thanks to the Department of Antiquities of Jordan for access to the statue and for permission to publish it in collaboration with Mr. Romel Ghareeb.)

While ecstatic speech and invocation of foreign syllables were not uncommon in ancient ritual life, the cultural politics and metaphysical structures that informed their meaning and efficacy were controversial and contested. This was particularly the case in the schools of the Platonists, who debated the worth of “oriental” wisdom, and asked how to respect divine agency in ritual. The contours of these debates are brought into stark relief by of the “Platonizing” Sethian apocalypses from Nag Hammadi—Zostrianos, Allogenes, and Marsanes—which provide fascinating examples of Christian Gnostic texts that employ ecstatic speech and alphabet-mysticism in the context of instructional discourses about Neoplatonic metaphysics. While clearly educated in the highest tiers of Hellenic learning, they reject the Hellenocentric criticism of barbarian ecstatic speech proffered by Plotinus and Porphyry in Ennead 2.9 and the Letter to Anebo. Instead, like the Chaldean Oracles, the Corpus Hermeticum, and Iamblichus, they “auto-Orientalize,” intentionally blending their Greek metaphysics with exotic hymns and ululations. Moreover, Marsanes claims that its “syllables of power” which “name” angelic beings are potent in the heavenly realms, “separating” the Gnostic ascending the cosmos one from them. Zostrianos and a tradition about the prophets Marsanes and Nicotheus (preserved in the Bruce Codex) also consider the divinized, angelified Gnostic to normal angelic powers. For Iamblichus, such an irruption of power from below is impossible. At best, such attempts to gain power over divine beings—base magic—simply fail, as opposed to theurgy. Human beings, with their fallen, descended souls, owe the efficacy of theurgy to the downward flow of divine power through a hierarchy of gods, daimones, and divine souls. It is thus clear that divine speech in the “Platonizing” Sethian apocalypses is not “theurgy” at all, but reflects Jewish practices of divinization that were used in the context of the Greek philosophical circle to claim extra-Hellenic and even supra-angelic authority, even when discussing Neoplatonic metaphysics.

Central to Psalm 119, the 176 verse long acrostic poem, is the concept of Torah. However, despite its prominent role in the poem, Psalm 119's Torah continually resists definition. The text notoriously refuses to speak of Torah's legal content or narrative context. Further, it explicates Torah not by means of any fixed referent, nor by metaphor or even metonymy. Rather, Psalm 119's portrait of Torah unfolds by means of excessive synonymy, in which the poem employs one of seven related terms in virtually every verse. These terms do not fix Torah to any clear extra-textual referent. In other words, everything essential about Torah remains on the surface. Yet that surface is sufficient to create and satisfy desire, to press the reader to seek and find and seek once again. Psalm 119 directs the reader of the poem to Torah, but simultaneously directs the seeker of Torah to the poem. Engaging with Deleuze, and with Yirmiyahu Yovel and Daniel Colucciello Barber on Spinoza, this paper proposes that Psalm 119 can be a suggestive resource for thinking through immanence in the Hebrew Bible. To be sure, one cannot construe the world of this poem, in which Torah is "affixed in the heavens" (119:89), as a plane of pure immanence. Nevertheless, Psalm 119 presents, to borrow a term from Yovel, an "empty horizon" of transcendence. While its appeal to the "Instruction of YHWH" ostensibly evokes the idea of a single transcendent source of knowledge, the psalm's poetics, the proliferation of names, points back earthward to the productive, life-giving Torah that is both empty and full. In Psalm 119, Torah is always becoming and continually unfolding in unity and multiplicity.

Scholars from a variety of fields have paid renewed attention to the medieval quadriga as a way of deepening resources for approaching troublesome biblical texts. While that may solve some problems it also raises some others. How does the church heed the multiple levels of the text without obliterating the letter? In this paper I propose St. Augustine as a model for approaching the imprecatory psalms tropologically. He reads those curses as prayers to turn enemies into friends. This hermeneutic is determined by a Christological a priori—they cannot mean actual curses since Jesus forbids cursing enemies. They must then be read in some sense “extra” or “deeper” than the letter. The further questions that arise: does Augustine still heed the letter at all? Do these readings in his Enarrationes in psalmos satisfy as they attend to the particulars of the letter and to the grand scope of the narrative of scripture? Most importantly is this approach to reading one that the church can draw on today as a resource? The paper will offer examples of Augustine’s approach to reading and aim to weigh its strengths and weaknesses for biblical hermeneutics, historical theology, and contemporary homiletical practice.

One of the more peculiar oversights in the Genesis narrative is the failure to mention when and how Cain died. We are, of course, told how Abel died and the deaths of Adam and Seth are both recorded in Gen 5:3-8, yet we are never told about Cain’s death. Instead Cain goes on to marry, raise a family and build a city, but his death is never recorded. For some this created a theological problem. If Cain was allowed to live, what kind of judge was the almighty? Ancient exegetes sometimes solved this problem by inserting details about Cain’s death as well as elements of divine retribution for his murder of Abel. The most sophisticated of these interpretive expansions is the legend that Cain was killed by Lamech. By expanding Lamech’s speech in Gen 4:23-24, interpreters were able to fill in the story’s lacuna and thus guarantee Cain was justly punished. While this story is not as well-known today, it was familiar to many in the past. The story of Lamech killing Cain is visible in the architecture of churches, such as Saint-Lazare in Autun, France and the Modena Cathedral in Italy, and in the engravings of Lucas van Leyden, Jacques Legrand and the Egerton Genesis Picture Book. This paper will demonstrate how the theological questions raised by the text were answered not just with pen and parchment, but in the artwork that enhanced the life of the church. In a time when many couldn't or didn't read the Bible, illustrations of Cain’s death helped to answer the questions some would have raised about the circumstances surrounding the first recorded murder and the punishment of its perpetrator.

The story of The Miracle of St Michael of Chonai was remarkably popular in the Byzantine world, spawning at least three versions of the story and numerous iconographic retellings that extend from Moscow to Mt Sinai. The ubiquity of representation reflects how important the city of Chonai (ancient Colossae) had become in the early medieval period, not merely as one of the major healing springs inviting pilgrimage but as an acclaimed locus of the success of Christianity against external competitors and internal fratricides. The popular version of the story of St Michael of Chonai bristles with tensions between the virile power of the archangel Michael backed by the Triune God and the deceitful attacks of the Devil, manifest most disgustingly in three goddesses. Whilst the story reached a relatively settled form in the ninth century, following the restoration of Chonai to Orthodox control after the iconoclast insurgency, its layered traditions reach back into the fourth century when Julian the Apostate promoted the worship of Cybele, the Great Mother, as a key plank in his program to restore the gods. The struggles for ascendancy between pagan and Christian are reflected in the story but with a potent sub-text of the politicization of gender in the conflict. The result, not without a significant qualifier, is an expropriation of the features of the masculinity of pagan gods for the attributes of Michael and his superior and an excoriation of the feminine as characterizing the devil and his consorts.

The study of ancient Jewish and Christian mystical thought, writings, and practices has typically focused on divine visions and auditions, how seeing and hearing God is represented or the practical steps involved to see or hear God in a ritual context, whether esoteric or in broader liturgical contexts. While justified by many of the writings themselves, this focus nonetheless overlooks that much ancient Jewish and Christian mystical thought and practice engaged all five senses. In this paper, I propose to investigate how early Christian writings variously spoke of encountering God not only by sight and hearing, but also by smelling, tasting, and touching. Firstly, this paper will, in a programmatic manner, establish that the engagement of all five senses or senses other than just sight and hearing are used to represent the divine encounter, and that this usage was widespread. While found in Jewish sources from Philo of Alexandria to Hekhalot Rabbati, this paper will focus on early Christian works chosen to illustrate variety and widespread dissemination (e.g., the Gospel of Philip, Origen’s Homilies on the Song of Songs, and Augustine’s Confessions). Secondly, this paper will consider the implications of these engagements for how ancient Christians understood the relationship between God and humans, in terms of soteriology, transformation (angelification and deification), and the possibilities and limits of such divine-human encounters. Thirdly, this paper will consider what insight this might give into ancient Christian practices. These include esoteric practices, mystical interpretations of exoteric practices (e.g., baptism or the Eucharist), practices to induce such an encounter, and practices reinterpreted in light of such an encounter.

In the ancient Mediterranean the commonplace view that "body and soul react on each other" provided the basis for the physiognomic belief that moral character could be discerned by external physical characteristics, including how one comported one's body (Ps-Arist., On Physiognomy, 808b). Although formal guidelines for practicing this theory are contained in physiognomic manuals, a broader physiognomic consciousness is manifest in nearly all genres of literature from this period, from fictional narratives to political tracts directed at contemporaneous figures. Physiognomy was deemed a reliable indicator of a person's character, and was employed in both the political sphere as well as fiction to malign opponents and authoritative figures representative of an opposing group. Yet this widespread rhetorical device is rarely taken into account in scholarship of early Christianity. As such, scholarship on the rhetoric of so-called heresy and its related insider-outsider boundary negotiation in early Christianity has thus only addressed part of the picture, neglecting what was a significant component of this discourse of legitimization and de-legitimization for early Christians, both in their works of exhortation as well as their literary self-representations. This paper proposes that physiognomic polemic functioned as an important part of rhetorical discourse on "heretics," and examines a selection of texts which highlight this: Tertullian's use of the ethnological method in highlighting Pontus as Marcion's place of origin as well as the zoological method in his designation of him as a "mouse"; Athanasius' use of what can be called the anatomical method in his elaborate description of the (unflattering) physical appearance of Arius; and on the narrative level, the portrayal of the gestures and voice of the figure Simon Magus in the Acts of Peter (the "arch-heretic" of early Christianity) in a way that would have conveyed the much dreaded implication of effeminacy to an ancient audience. This examination sheds light on an important, but often neglected, form of rhetorical persuasion in early Christianity.

Counter-intuitive nomenclature notwithstanding, the usage of the Greek perfect is best explained by its imperfective aspect. While other accounts of its semantic constituency provide some power of explanation of the perfect's functionality, these are beset with the perennial problem of admitting various 'exceptions' to the rule. It will be argued in this paper that imperfective aspect best accounts for the evidence, while addressing some recent critiques of this position.

See online: http://www.ibr-bbr.org (Research Groups: Identity Formation in the Pauline Letters).

I will present the findings from my book Clothing the body of Christ at Colossae regarding statuary, funerary monuments and coins in the Lycus Valley contemporaneous with the letter to the Colossians to show how the letter incorporates and reconfigures contemporaneous clothing and body images. I will show how my study leads to what I call “visual exegesis”.

The paper makes what at first must appear to be a wildly improbable claim—that the canonical Gospel According to Mark reveals that Jesus and his Twelve reenacted the Twelve Tribes’ Crossing the Jordan under Joshua. The event takes place between Mark 10:34 and 10:35. There Jesus goes ahead and then James and John come up to him. A second stage can be located either in the middle of Mark 10:42 or between Mark 10:45 and 10:46. Either way the Ten join Jesus, James and John, and then together they come up out of the Jordan and proceed to Jericho. The event is hidden but can be revealed. It is discoverable as the solution to a puzzle. But the puzzle—unlike the puzzle of loaves, thousands and baskets—itself is not explicit. One route to revealing it looks at the successive positions ascribed to Jesus and the Twelve as they are “going up” to Jerusalem. At 10:32b Jesus called the Twelve aside and spoke with them. And then at 10:35 James and John came up to him. But they could not have come to him unless after calling them aside he had left them and gone ahead. Various help us recognize this puzzle and grasp its solution. Two of them concern Mark’s literary sources. First, Mark 10:1 puts Jesus and the 12 “beyond the Jordan.” Then much of Mark 10:2–31 refers to, quotes from, or alludes to teaching in the Book of Deuteronomy, teaching delivered “in the plains of Moab beyond the Jordan.” Second, Mark follows Joshua into the Book of Joshua. Or rather, according to Mark, Jesus first prophetically reenacted Joshua’s crossing and then, according to my argument, Mark cast the deed into a narrative puzzle on the model of the crossing in Joshua. The literary pointers to Joshua include “the going up,” the “amazement and fear” of the onlookers and followers, “the taking aside of twelve,” the separation of a twelve into a two and a ten, and a getting wet, a baptism—all these appear in the Joshua story. As, of course, do the Jordan river, the name Jesus, and the way. It is the whole of the Joshua event, however, that Mark has set like a rock in the flow of his narrative. The discovery has immediate consequences for the reading of Mark 10:32–46. Take for a quick example the approach of James and John to Jesus. Certainly, the staging owes much to the account of Elisha’s final importuning of Elijah in the Books of Kings (also, by the way, a Jordan crossing); but recognizing the Joshuanic background reveals that the question Jesus asks of the Two and their being baptized is being asked (and answered) while the three of them are standing in the midst of Jordan’s flowing waters and the ancient significance of the name Jesus is for the first time in Mark’s gospel, fully evident.

This presentation examines the University of Iowa's 3D, virtual reconstruction of Tel Azekah, located in the Elah Valley just west of Jerusalem after its initial two seasons of excavation. The presentation offers an overview of Azekah, visualizes the tel and excavated areas, and offers a methodology for the systematic digital cataloging, visualization, and reconstruction of archaeological excavations as they progress.

An increasing number of biblical studies have drawn on trauma scholarship to analyze Ezekiel (see esp. Garber), Jeremiah (O’Connor) and the suffering servant (e.g. Morrow). This paper builds on that work, focusing on how the literary depiction of individual prophetic (e.g. Jeremiah or Ezekiel) or other (e.g. suffering servant) figures provided an oblique way for the traumatized exilic/post-exilic Judean community to engage otherwise unspeakable communal suffering in a safe way. It is a distillate of research for a forthcoming book on The Traumatic Origins of the Bible: Judaism, Christianity and Survival. The paper’s starting point is the book of Ezekiel, long a playground for those applying psychoanalytic theory to biblical figures. Ezekiel seems crazy. His bizarre actions and visions have led scholars of various ages to diagnose him as hysteric, schizophrenic, and (now, more recently) suffering from PTSD. More helpful, in my view, is the approach of David Garber, whose 2005 dissertation uses work by Cathy Caruth and others to show how images in the book of Ezekiel helped exiles engage a traumatic experience they otherwise could not discuss directly. This paper shows how the book’s depiction of Ezekiel and his sign-actions represented a manageable way for the exile/post-exile community to envision their own suffering. I then offer a similar approach to the literary depiction of Jeremiah and the Deutero-Isaianic suffering servant. Again, the focus is on how literary depictions of these figures provide a way for Judean exiles to safely and yet indirectly engage suffering that was otherwise unspeakable for them. This approach helps with issues that have plagued past discussions of these figures, such as the question of whether the “suffering servant” represents an individual or community. Using trauma theory, I argue that it’s both, and irreducibly so.

A common approach has sought to identify historical information about the origins of Mark’s Gospel in the second-fourth century traditions (Irenaeus, Papias-Eusebius, Jerome). Abandoning this quest, this paper engages these second-fourth century traditions as ideology-bearing and performing texts, seeking to identify some of the means by which they perform this ideological work. The paper argues that the surviving ecclesiastical traditions attest four strategies that legitimated and empowered an anonymous and obscure gospel previously colonized by Matthean and Lucan redaction. These strategies identify the gospel with a masculine-imperial name Mark, associate it with an authoritative male ecclesial figure Peter, locate it in the imperial capital and ecclesial center of Rome, and symbolize it with the imperial and masculine animals of the lion and eagle. The ecclesial traditions thus imitate and reinscribe common imperializing and genderizing cultural practices to author-ize and legitimate the Gospel as that according to Mark.

The monotheistic identity of the emergent monotheistic culture in Zech 1-8 is portrayed through its emphasis upon the city of Jerusalem as both a physical and ideological object, the discernment of which Melanie Klein's take on object-relations theory will be fruitful. In particular, this article will focus on Klein's articulation of the "death instinct," with its emphasis on stability and change, as a mechanism for elucidating the qualities, those accessible by object-relations theory, of the emergent monotheistic position portrayed in the text. This work begins with the following initial hypothesis, Zechariah's monotheistic position began as a reaction to a persecutory fear of anomy that was produced by a lack of social-political authority held by the returning community, and subsequently its perceived oppression by a preexisting hegemonic system of power. As Klein argues, object-relations theory identifies the primary form of identity formation as one of reaction, meted out through introjection and projection, both of which are fundamentally reactions to a fear of death, to which all living things are naturally inclined. On the communal level, "death" is typically perceived as anomy, which can be defined as a state in which desired social-political actions occur outside perceived orderly limits, threatening the boundaries of the community. Klein's theory will help show that the emphasis upon the city in Zech 1-8 is less about the city itself and more about intimations of self-preservation made by an emergent monotheistic cultural identity against a preexisting hegemonic system of power. In short, the monotheistic identity of the returning community was a consequence of the community's lack of social-political authority.

This paper aims first to show the literary or thematic relationship among Ezek 44:1-14, Isa 56:1-8, Deut 23:1-8, and Ezra-Nehemiah, and second to propose hypothetically the interesting dynamic of socio-political conflict of postexilic Judean community in setting up the community boundary and temple hierarchy. While foreigners’ complaint for segregation in Isa 56:3 relates the oracle with the segregation policy of the reforms of Ezra and Nehemiah, YHWH’s response in Isa 56:6-7 relates the oracle with Ezek 44 since it deals with the exclusion of foreigners from working in the temple. By showing the priestly concerns for the temple hierarchy, Ezek 44 reveals a presumable internal conflict of the community between Zadokite priests and Levites in relation to the exclusion of foreigners. Focusing on drawing a line between the returnees and the peoples of the land, Ezra-Nehemiah mainly presents the external conflict of the community to maintain the ethnic identity while it presents a peaceful and harmonious co-working between priests and Levites. Responding to both of the exclusive policies in Ezek 44 and Ezra-Nehemiah, Isa 56 intends to attack the primary base-text behind the reforms and in the temple (Ezek 44) and the community (Ezra-Nehemiah), which is the law of assembly in Deut 23. It explains why Isa 56 and Deut 23 have no direct verbal connection although the two texts are unique places to deal with foreigners and eunuchs together. The relationship between the three texts, which are possibly contemporary, reveal the complexity of the identity negotiation in the post-exilic Judean community in relation to lively and heated issues of the exclusion of foreigners and of the priesthood.

The overarching purpose of the paper is to test Sørensen’s cognitive theory of magic (2007) by examining ancient Coptic texts of ritual power. Amongst Early Christianities (Mirecki & Meyer 2002; cf. Klauck 2000), Coptic Christianity is chosen for investigation, for her “magical” phenomena were quite prevailing and the extant Coptic texts of “magic” are relatively massive (Meyers et al. 1999). The Coptic Gospel of the Egyptians, Oxyrhynchus 1077, Berlin 9096 are some of the best illustrations. Sørensen’s asserts that the human cognition of magic is universal. However, “Sørensen draws from a very limited set of empirical examples” (Bever 2008), that is, classic ethnographic data derived from Frazer, Malinowski, Evans-Pritchard, Tambiah, etc. (cf. Yelle 2008). Hence, this paper tries to apply contagion, conceptual blending, indexical icons, tedium effect and other cognitive principles in explaining Coptic texts. Interestingly, ancient Christian users of Coptic “magical” texts did not perceive themselves “practitioners of ‘magic,’ which they regarded as a negative term” (Meyers et al. 1999). Thus, this paper must investigate to what extent are Sørensen’s cognitive categories applicable to Coptic Christianity. This belongs to the first part. Afterwards, it discusses ancient perceptions on different “magical” sources. Basically, magic has received “a bad press” in Early Christianities (Aune 2006) or even being labelled as “daemonic”. Two major competing interpretations of the actual praxis of daemonic magic prevailed, namely “Tatianic” and “Origenistic” (Thee 1984). In light of Sørensen’s theory, the paper analyzes whether one could distinguish cognitively a “Christian” magic from the so-called “daemonic”. Finally, it treats any discrepancy between Sørensen’s theory and the Coptic phenomena. Instead of viewing magic from neurocognitive approach (Sørensen 2010), Sørensen formulates his “cognitive theory of belief in magic” (Bever 2008) which explains how human cognition can think that magic works, but not how magic works through altered state of mind.

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The psalms labeled as imprecations are Christianly troubling because they seek punishment for those who have harmed the speaker when an offer of forgiveness and the reestablishment of relationship is thought to be Christianly warranted. Psalm 35 is one of the stronger imprecations in which the speaker spends six of the 28 verses of the poem asking God to bring down his enemies. The eminent social science researcher, Michael McCullough, argues that both revenge and forgiveness are adaptive mechanisms that evolved in human behavior to address specific problems. The desire for revenge seeks to deter interpersonal harm while forgiveness is effective in preserving valuable relationships despite those harms. In Psalm 35, like all the imprecatory psalms, God is invoked as the agent of justice for the humiliated speaker and it does enable the speaker to express his hurt in a safe way and not retaliate directly, thus as McCullough says, deters interpersonal harm. Of the eight verses that seek the undoing of the foes, most ask God to vindicate him and that entails the demise of the plans of the wicked. That is, the foiling of the wicked is not extrinsic to their behavior toward the speaker as a curse might be expected to be as punishment. Only two verses of this poem (8 and 26) appear to ask for extrinsic punishment quite apart from stopping their bad behavior which would carry with it their own shame and embarrassment.

This paper takes its cues from Nietzsche's famous description of philology as the art of reading slowly and Pollock's recent description of it as making sense of texts. It will apply to the books of Qohelet and Song of Songs insights developed in general literary theory about the different speakers and levels of speakers that structure a text as a medium of verbal communication, whether narrative or non-narrative, prose or poetry. It will argue that in the book of Qohelet the author does not present himself as Qohelet. Rather, a quoter quotes Qohelet and does so directly to his own student. Like Qohelet, this quoter is also a construct and cannot be taken as a direct representation of the author. Close analysis will flesh out the character of the quoter and his relationship to Qohelet and his ideas. The analysis will have implications for the final verses of the book, which nearly universally are seen as a disclaimer appended to the text. The paper will also argue that from the perspective of speakers in a text and framing it, the view of Song of Songs as a series of poetic fragments strung together through a variety of devices does not do justice to it. One can construct a single speaker who frames the entire text and a single scenario that explains its meandering and repetitive characteristics.

The Fourth Gospels follows the Synoptics in the consistent address of Jesus as "rabbi," utilizing the Aramaic term in transliteration. Although the Johannine range of usage is comparable to that of the Synoptic Gospels, John follows a more systematic presentation; the meaning of referring to Jesus as "rabbi" for both insiders and outsiders is developed. This pedagogy for what the term means contextually enables hearers or reader of the Gospel to frame a socially sensitive definition of “rabbi,” involving a teacher who attracts students, demonstrates unusual insight and knowledge, performs signs, defines a distinctive style of purity, interprets tradition as well as Scripture, and enters into controversy. Each of these categorical aspects of activity is instanced within Judaic literature in respect of figures also known as rabbis. Yet the Fourth Gospel is unusual in bringing these characteristics together in order to focus on a single figure. The Johannine focus on Jesus as rabbi enables the Gospel to coordinate different activities as all expressive of one identity. In every case, the activity introduced as that of Jesus in his role as rabbi develops into a major thematic statement within the Gospel. At the same time, elements within those presentations involve unexpected assertions that sometimes amount to aporiai. (The most discussed case is the statement that Jesus baptized more successfully than John the Baptist did; John 3:26.) Aporetic presentation in John is by no means limited to cases in which Jesus appears as rabbi, but it remains striking that aporiai are consistently involved when Jesus is so addressed. Two explanations of that phenomenon emerge: (1) that the source traditions connected with Rabbi Jesus present him in ways no longer current when the Gospel was produced, and (2) that John developed aporiai as a sign of mystery, so that the use of “rabbi” became an invitation to other identifications of Jesus.

The sea appears in the so-called Isaiah Apocalypse (Isaiah 24–27) in two distinct guises. First, it can be argued that the sea appears as God’s instrument for worldwide judgment. God unleashes the cosmic sea (Isa 24:18b; cf. Gen 7:11bß) and commands his people to hide behind closed doors (26:20a; cf. Gen 7:16b), as he did in the time of the Noahide flood, in order to punish the sinful inhabitants of the earth. Second, the sea appears in the guise of God’s cosmic enemy, Leviathan, whom he punishes in judgment (27:1). In other words, the sea as the flood is the waters of divine judgment, and the sea as Leviathan is God’s enemy, whose defeat ushers in the eschatological kingdom of God. The sea also appears in these seemingly contradictory guises in the Book of Watchers (1 Enoch 1–36). The flood waters are instruments of God’s punishment (1 Enoch 10:2; cf. chapters 66–67). And the dawning of the eschatological kingdom of God is signaled by the promise that the flood will be no more (10:22). This echoes other apocalyptic eschatologies where the sea is silenced (4Q541 [4QAhA = 4QTLevid] Frag. 7:3), dried up (Sib. Or. 5:447), retires (T. Moses 10:6), or is no more (Rev 21:1). This article will trace the tradition history behind the waters of judgment and the disappearing sea in visions of eschatological judgment and the kingdom of God, with reference to biblical (including Zech 14:8), ancient Near Eastern, early Jewish, and Greek traditions.

In recent decades of scholarship, there has been an increasing recognition that the early Jesus movement was neither immune to nor isolated from the influences of its social environment. Thus, attention has been given to the social institutions of the first-century C.E. Mediterranean for the light that they might shed on the interpretation of the writings of the early Jesus movement. Less attention, however, has been given to a more basic question: what did the members of the early Jesus movement think about the social institutions and practices of the society around them? A corollary to this question is: whether and to what degree should the early Jesus movement embrace and emulate those institutions and practices? What lie at stake are the identity of the early Jesus movement and the nature of its relationship with the surrounding society. Paul and James have frequently been compared and contrasted for their statements pertaining to faith and works. This study will also compare them, but will focus instead on their stances toward one social practice, namely patronage. As patronage is only one type of social exchange, it will also be necessary to consider two other ubiquitous forms of exchange, namely benefaction and friendship. It will be argued that Paul and James’ opposing views of patronage are reflected in the fabric of their relationship with their respective communities and in their depictions of God. Nevertheless, these opposing stances were, in fact, rooted in a common concern to preserve the values of their respective communities.

This paper (intended for the second project) takes as a case study two first-century CE stelae discovered on Roman quarry settlements in Egypt's eastern desert. Both are dedicated to the Graeco-Egyptian deity Pan-Min, who had been associated in local traditions with the discovery of mineral resources, especially gold. Through a discussion of the evidence and, in particular, its implications for understanding the relationship between 'religion' and 'the economy' in antiquity, this paper will offer insight into the acquisition of wealth as it is imagined in the gospels (e.g. Mt. 13.44-46).

In the prologue to his Expositio Psalmi CXVIII, Ambrose of Milan observes that “the prophet David” spread moral teachings widely throughout the psalter. Ambrose adds, however, that in comparison to all of the other psalms, Psalm 119 (118 Vulg.) stands out like the noon-day sun in terms of the luminosity and intense warmth of its tropological sense. Indeed, its placement in the psalter—after the half-light of the morning and before the waning light of the evening—signals the splendor of its teaching. Moreover, Ambrose adds, just as school children learn the alphabet, so too readers studying the successive stanzas of Psalm 119 receive an education in how to live. Consistent with this prologue, throughout his twenty-two homilies on Psalm 119, Ambrose offers his audience tropological readings of the text. Nonetheless, at the same time, he weaves into his verse-by-verse interpretation of the psalm a mystical (and Christological) reading of the Song of Songs. In this paper, I will explore the various dimensions of Ambrose’s moral interpretation of Psalm 119, examining in particular what Ambrose understands by the moral meaning, how this is related to the mystical meaning of the text, and how his interpretation of Song of Songs interacts with and shapes his reading of Psalm 119.

Neo-martyr accounts of the seventh through ninth centuries CE often depict Christians converting to Islam and back to Christianity. These vacillating neo-martyr narratives provide a glimpse into clerical and monastic responses to the threats posed by purportedly realistic situations which might trigger apostasy to Islam. This paper explores the depiction of the temptations of Islam in the seventh century vitae of Elias of Heliopolis, an apprentice to a Christian client of a Muslim, and Bakchos the Younger, whose mother finds herself expressing an outwardly Islamic identity while cultivating an inwardly Christian one; arguing that although they are primarily meant as devotional, the function of the martyr narratives was also instructional. The moments of temptation to convert to Islam are unique; only mimetic situations serve the didactic point of the narratives, which both warn against and generally explore, seemingly harmless social interactions that might cause Christians to be tempted by conversion.

Translation theory yields fruitful insights into the study of the use of the Old Testament in the New. The way the New Testament writers employ a passage from the Old Testament is similar to the translation process in which a translator provides a translation from a source text to a target text. Hence, the study of translation theory can produce new methodological insights into the analysis of the use of the Old Testament in the New Testament. The outline of this paper is twofold: theory and practice. First of all, I will define translation from a linguistics perspective, and explore one of the major models of translation study, which is the descriptive approach to translation. In the second part of this paper, I will apply the translation theory that I have laid out to the use of Hos 11:1 in Matt 2:15. The application will focus on the source text and the target text consecutively. Some of my insights and evaluation will be followed by my concluding remarks.

Inhabited, domestic spaces were the locus of meeting for many early Christians. These spaces necessarily facilitated both the daily life of the family and the ritual practices of the house-church Christians. Before the advent of Christian purpose-built structures, there was little material articulation of ritual or sacred space. The argument has therefore been made that the earliest Christians – those meeting in domestic spaces – did not worship in sacred space, but rather, in the “neutral” place of the home. Indeed, the earliest Christians have sometimes been understood to have rejected altogether the idea of sacred place, instead, forming a kind of utopic sanctity through the establishment of a “body of believers.” The idea of a utopic sanctity is attractive when considering the contested, messy, and impure spaces of domestic life. At the same time, conceiving of the use of space in this way negates both the preexistent place of the space itself (the domestic sphere) and the embodied practices of the worshippers meeting within it. Further, a rejection of emplaced sanctity does not recognize the power of ritual to both demand and create sacred space during its enactment. In this paper, I argue that the house-church Christians were indeed meeting in sacred space, despite the fact that this sanctity was not yet materially articulated. In order to demonstrate the validity of this claim, I will discuss first the attitudes of early Christians towards sacred spaces and places. Second, I will explore the fundamental relationship between ritual and sacred space. Third, I will present ways of overcoming the divisiveness of shared space (domestic/ritual) through theories of space and place (including those of Edward Soja, Jonathan Z. Smith, and Edward Casey). Finally, I will present a working model and definition of sacred space in house churches which honours the preexistent place of the domestic sphere, the rituals performed within it, and the embodied practices of the house-church Christians.

In this paper, I will read the narrative of Tamar’s rape by her half-brother Amnon in 2 Samuel 13 through the lens of trauma theory with special attention to the work of Judith Hermann. Hermann argues that an important step in recovering from trauma is the slow and exceedingly painful process of retrieving and facing memories of traumatic events, a process which involves mourning what has been lost. With this in mind, I propose that Tamar’s lament forms an important part of coming to terms with trauma—her act of grieving constituting an act of resistance against her perpetrator and an essential step in eventually moving on with life.

As is well known, Jonah is a recalcitrant, yet divinely commissioned messenger. His hesitation stems from his sense of retributive justice, i.e., there is right and there is wrong, and the latter should be punished. Thus, when he finally pronounces God’s message to the Ninevites and they repent, he is angry at God, angry enough to ask to die. In chapter four, God engages Jonah over his anger, and asks him a question about the limits of God’s forgiveness and concern. Some scholars understand Jonah as agreeing with this new emphasis on the universal scope of God’s care for humanity and love, yet Jonah never answers God’s question. In this presentation, I will argue that Jonah’s silence should not be taken as his acquiescence to God’s universal love. Rather, through an examination of the DC Comics series Jonah Hex (2005-2011), I will argue that Jonah’s fury with God never abated, that he never gave in to God’s new, larger conception of concern for all peoples. I will discuss the comic book character Jonah Hex as a kind of Jonah redivivus, an incarnation of his namesake, who works as a bounty hunter in the American Old West to punish the wicked. The comic book series, as well as the 2010 animated short film, frames Hex as a God-hating killer, but one who is fully immersed in the ideology of retributive justice endorsed by his eponymous ancestor. Through this mutually reciprocal reading in which both the biblical and the comic text(s) are read in light of one another, Hex’s displeasure with the divine becomes more comprehensible, and Jonah’s unwillingness to cooperate in God’s plan is given a fresh perspective.

The Gospel of Thomas is full of enigmatic and mysterious sayings, of which many scholars agree that Logion 7 is the hardest to interpret. In this paper, it is demonstrated that Logion 7 is best understood in light of Platonic imagery as argued by Howard M. Jackson. The remaining space is used to explore other ascetical tendencies and transformation motifs found in the larger Thomasine tradition and Codex 2 of the Nag Hammadi library. Finally, it is concluded that the very identity of the "monk" is directly tied into becoming "one being" in order to return to the divine source after death.

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Although the details of ancient Mediterranean funerals varied over time and across cultures, the same broad structure for funerary ritual was widely shared. Funerals began with the preparation of the corpse. Female family members bore responsibility for washing and adorning it. After a period of time, a procession of family and friends transported the corpse to the burial site, accompanied by women wailing in mourning. Lastly, after the corpse was laid to rest, the mourners participated in a meal in honor of the deceased. The author of the Gospel of Luke drew on these lived ritual experiences to weave an added dimension into his passion narrative, subtly casting the elements of the events from the last supper to the resurrection as a funeral that took place in reverse. As in the other gospels, the Passover meal that Jesus shares with his disciples is one of commemoration, eaten “in remembrance” (anamnesin) of Jesus (22:19). By means of imagery unique to the Gospel of Luke’s account, the description of Jesus’ approach to the crucifixion site evokes a funerary procession. A crowd walks with Jesus, including women who strike themselves in mourning (ekoptonto) and sing a dirge (ethrenoun) (23:27), both traditional actions of female mourners when the corpse is transported to the grave. The move from a commemorative meal to a funerary procession adds extra resonance to the plan of the women to bring spices (aromata) and perfume (mura) to Jesus’ tomb after the crucifixion (23:55-24:1; also Mark 16:1). In funerary ritual, while women traditionally brought gifts to the grave, as they prepare to do here, they were also responsible for bathing and beautifying the body immediately after death, using aromatic liquids like those mentioned here. This scene at the tomb thus simultaneously recalls the first stage of burial when women tended the corpse. With this narrative strategy, the end point of the Gospel expresses the logical culmination of a funeral carried out in reverse: the resurrection of Jesus from death to life.

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The Book of the Laws of Countries (hereafter BLC) is a dialogue between the Christian sage Bardai?an (Bardesanes) of Edessa (154 - 222 CE), the main speaker, and three of his disciples about fate and free will, good and evil, moral responsibility and astral determinism. In its Greek version in antiquity the book was called On Fate. Although it was composed by one Philip, it is generally assumed that the dialogue fairly represents the philosophy and teachings of Bardai?an, a position that is bolstered by the ancient testimonia which attribute this text to Bardai?an himself. The dialogue contains a detailed description of the Jewish observance of Shabbat, specifically what Jews refrain from doing on Shabbat. This is perhaps the most detailed list of Sabbath prohibitions found in any ancient non-Jewish source. In this paper I would like to assess this list of Shabbat prohibitions by focusing on two questions. First, is this list based on eye-witness testimony to actual Sabbath observance by the Jews of Edessa around the year 200 CE, or is it based on a literary source? In other words, is it based on what Bardai?an saw or on what Bardai?an read? Second, what connection, if any, does this list and these prohibitions have with Mishnah tractate Shabbat? In answer to the first question: while the context in BLC suggests that Bardai?an is presenting the result of his own knowledge and his own research, literary parallels, especially with Philo, suggest that Bardai?an derived this list from a Hellenistic Jewish source. This point is perhaps confirmed by the answer to the second question: Bardai?an’s list has remarkably little overlap with the Mishnah’s list of the labors prohibited on the Sabbath, suggesting that Bardai?an’s knowledge of the Jewish Sabbath has more in common with Hellenistic Judaism than with the rabbinic Judaism that was taking shape in Roman Palaestina. As to the Sabbath observance by the Jews of Edessa in the early third century, we have, alas, no information.

Is Codex Washingtonianus (GA–032) a strict copy of its exemplar(s) or a new literary creation? This question was recently posed in an SBL collection edited by Larry W. Hurtado titled *The Freer Biblical Manuscripts: Fresh Studies of an American Treasure Trove*—a publication marking a curious (though welcomed) resurgence of scholarly interest in Codex W. The relationship between a scribe and his or her exemplar(s) is an elusive subject, and it is especially interesting in the case of W because of the manuscript’s unique assortment of disparate text-types that essentially resemble a patchwork quilt. This study examines the scribal use of exemplar(s) in the production of Codex W by analyzing an overlooked scribal habit: number-writing techniques. It is well known that Greek NT manuscripts utilize two systems of number-writing: symbols and longhand numbers. It is not well known, however, that the Freer Gospels contain a startling pattern in the use and non-use of numeral abbreviations that actually coincides with the changes in text-types in this patchwork manuscript. In other words, at every place in the manuscript where there is a shift in the textual complexion, there is likewise a shift in the particular scribal habit of number-writing. This pattern, in addition to other notable scribal features, arguably reflects the modus operandi of a scribe who intended to produce an accurate copy of available exemplars rather than one who exercised extensive editorial liberties in the creation of the manuscript—despite claims to the contrary.

Recent well-publicised efforts to encourage biblical literacy have emerged as a direct response to its perceived “decline”. The assumed (or feared) gradual “loss” of the Bible to modern society at large has given rise to a renewed determination in some quarters to ensure an ongoing engagement and familiarity with what ex-Poet Laureate Sir Andrew Motion calls “an essential piece of cultural luggage”. The present examination addresses the question of biblical literacy from the perspective of mainstream television, problematising a straightforward assumption of its decline. Focusing on the popular U.S. television series "Lost" (2004–2010, ABC), it highlights the surprising prominence of biblical allusion (both implicit and explicit) throughout. This in turn raises questions about biblical literacy among the writers and, more crucially, the extent to which biblical literacy is assumed (or not) on the part of the audience. This paper, however, goes one step further by suggesting that, since the very nature of the programme deliberately encourages a close attention to detail on the part of its viewers and (over-)analysis of what is seen and heard, it may be that, whether or not “Lost” assumes continued familiarity with the biblical text, it would intriguingly appear to play a (perhaps unintentional) part in actively encouraging and promoting it.

This paper looks at Jesus traditions and ecclesial politics in the letters of Ignatius and reads them “flatly” alongside the material conditions of travel, movement, and communication in the eastern Mediterranean. Reading flatly follows the insights of Gilles Deleuze, Felix Guattari, Bruno Latour and others who examine the conceptual and the material, the human and the non-human, as ontologically equal parts of assemblages that give rise to emergent socialities. By following the insights of these philosophers and social theorists into the corpus of Ignatian letters, this paper recasts the role that traditions about Jesus, and theological ideas more generally, play in the ecclesial politics surrounding Ignatius’ letters. It does so by reframing the ways we talk about the Roman imperial context of second-century Christianity. Rather than assuming a stable empire with which early Christians either accommodated or resisted (or both), I argue that the empire is best figured as a series of shifting connectivities that constantly assemble the social fabric of the empire and around, through, and in which emerged early Christian communities and the broader regional networks that connected them together (like those along which Ignatius’ letters moved).

In the dark days of the early seventh century, Andrew, the esteemed bishop of Caesarea, Cappadocia, faced immense challenges. He and his congregation had witnessed plague, civil war, famine, and catastrophic barbarian invasions. Eschatological fervor ran high as people were convinced the end of the world was near. Within this climate, Andrew composed the first Greek patristic commentary on the Apocalypse. Andrew balanced the necessity to make the strange language of the Apocalypse understandable with the need to keep the prophecies relevant, all the while taking care to avoid fanning to the flames of apocalyptic anxiety that had gripped the empire. Revelation at first glance seems an unusual choice for teaching morality, however Andrew consistently drew out the moral lesson in Revelation and effectively interpreted the book as basic pedagogy about the Christian way of life, such as the importance of performing good deeds, despising death, pursuing virtue, etc. In his prologue to the commentary, Andrew wrote that he composed his commentary expressly for that purpose. A commentary on Revelation would benefit of the faithful, since it “contributes not a little to compunction through remembrance of both the rewards that will be bestowed on the righteous and the retribution of the wicked and sinful.” Eventually, Andrew’s interpretation of the Apocalypse would lead to its inclusion in the canon of the New Testament for the Orthodox Church after centuries of rejection, due in no small part to his effective application of the lessons of Revelation to spiritual improvement by his consistent tropological interpretation. Those who read his commentary were convinced by his exposition that the Apocalypse is indeed “holy and God-inspired, guiding those who read it to a blessed end.”

The figure of Jael has persisted in art and literature because an act of violence by a woman against a man unsettles the norms of heterosexual patriarchal culture. In some ways, biblical traditions of Judges 4-5 insist that Jael is a woman, indeed emphasizes the fact. But her act, murdering a man, has made at least some readers doubt this claim. In short, the figure of Jael challenges the category of “woman.” This paper puts into conversation two artistic constructions of the body of Jael that highlight the challenge this biblical story puts to conventional binary sex and gender categories. The first is a Dutch Renaissance print after a drawing by Maarten van Heermskerk. The print is one in a series illustrating the “power of women” topos, where Jael represents the threat posed to men by powerful women. Heermkerk is not unique in using Jael in this way, but his construction of her body is. He draws Jael not as dangerous seductress, but as gender-blurred warrior. Her body is “unrecognizable at a glance” (to adapt Judith Halberstram’s phrase), her sex, unintelligible (in the Butlerian sense). In this way, Heermskerk’s 16th century Jael anticipates 21st century readings of Jael through the lens of queer theory. Even less recognizable is the second body under consideration, the cyborg Jael in Johanna Russ’s science fiction novel, The Female Man. Claiming to be “an old-fashioned girl,” this body of Jael, which kills men with retractable claws and has sex with machines (handsome ones), suggests otherwise. This paper will explore the capacity of the biblical traditions of Jael to yield such heterodox bodies while also pointing to the limitations of representation evident in both of the later cultural productions of Jael.

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Prophecy in a time of exilic crisis produced radical understandings of the environment and fantastic visions of environmental transformation. Texts in Second Isaiah and Ezekiel, in particular, offer staggering visions of nature and land permanently altered for better or for ill. This presentation grapples with these prophetic visions and with potentials for dynamic exposition of their many dimensions.

This contribution takes a longue durée approach to the discourse of righteous violence in Roman Africa, considering how the link between suffering and witness established by Tertullian of Carthage evolved as Christians found themselves involved in successive frameworks for competition and boundary formation, and successive communities found themselves in the morally privileged position of the righteous outsider. Attention will be given to how modern research on cognition, pain and memory changes our understanding of the role played by imaginative violence in ancient rhetorical strategies.

Gaspar Noé’s 2009 film Enter the Void provides an interesting example of a representation of afterlife. The film situates its main character, the American Oscar who lives in Tokyo, on a spectrum of mortality: he is shot by the police after a drug bust in a club. The film follows his travels from this life to the next, inviting the spectator to also face the finality of death. It does so by presenting a radical depiction of character subjectivity which is expressed in the film’s mode of narration. The film’s cinematography is dominated by what David Bordwell and Kristin Thompson call a first-person camera. The first 40 minutes of Enter the Void are one of the rare examples of extensive subjective camera work in cinema. That is to say, the viewer is exclusively tied the point of view of Oscar. Theoretically, the subjective shot triggers a twofold discussion on the problem of spectatorship in general, and the corporeal notion of cinema spectatorship. In my presentation I will address the issue of the subjective camera through a brief discussion of Edward Branigan’s analysis of the classic example of subjective camera work, the 1946 Robert Montgomery film Lady in the Lake. Furthermore, I will argue that Enter the Void’s subjective camerawork also has implications for the viewing experience as such: it has an incontestable affective effect. The use of many complicated long takes and crane shots, not only directs and limits the viewer’s seeing, but even more importantly, arouses in viewers an unpleasant physical feeling. Taken together, Enter the Void’s representation of the hereafter, combined with its specific cinematic techniques and its affective effects is the main focus of my presentation.

Scholars continue to debate the significance of the references to wine in Romans 14. According to some, Paul brings up wine only hypothetically. Others argue that the “weak” at Rome do in fact abstain from wine, perhaps for ascetic reasons. A substantial number of interpreters maintain, plausibly enough, that these abstainers are Jewish members of the church who wish to avoid consuming wine that may be tainted in some way by association with pagan religion. A number of texts from Jewish literature are now commonly cited, but rarely discussed, as evidence that Jews in certain times and places avoided wine for reasons of piety. The texts are a diverse collection. Not all fit the situation addressed by Paul in Romans—co-religionists sharing communal meals. Some are vague about the reason for avoidance of wine; others state only the fact of abstinence, not the motivation. In an effort to shed further light on the subject, this paper takes a close look at abstinence from wine in ancient Judaism, correlating this examination with information about Roman religious rites connected with wine production and consumption.

Biblical Hebrew is a historically-situated language with a specific linguistic profile, and poetry in all periods and cultures typically uses words in novel ways. For these reasons, the study of Biblical Hebrew poetry is an unavoidably philological pursuit. The trajectory of modern research on Biblical Hebrew poetry confirms as much. It began in the eighteenth century with Robert Lowth, a classicist who can appropriately if anachronistically be labeled a philologist. Recent studies have adopted more broadly linguistic methods, but they continue to broach philological questions. Building upon these advances, this paper proposes a robust, self-consciously philological approach to Biblical Hebrew poetry, in conversation with recent developments in the study of Medieval English and Sanksrit texts, and it applies the approach to selected examples from the poetry of First Isaiah. Three concerns are paramount: first, to account adequately for diachronic issues that result from the ancient cultural origins of Biblical Hebrew poetry; second, to appreciate its distinctive literary artistry with appropriate sensitivity; and finally, to articulate an agenda that is not needlessly dismissive of, or incompatible with, other theoretical outlooks.

In his lectures at the Hebrew Union College, Logos and Mystical Theology in Philo of Alexandria, David Winston articulated and defended a position on Philo’s understanding of mystical vision of God that he entitled “light by light, God by God” (Praem. 46). Winston claims that for Philo, (1) only knowledge that God exists is possible—one cannot see his essence; and (2) the highest vision of God humanly attainable is the vision of the Logos. On Winston’s view, Philo’s position, which finds later corroboration in the writings of the Neoplatonist Plotinus, is rooted in Plato’s account of the vision of sunlight in Resp. 507c–509b. While Winston’s thesis accurately describes a prominent tradition present in Philo’s thought, several Philonic pericopae that he discusses, especially Leg. 3.97–103, fail to fit this model. In Leg. 3.101, for instance, Philo’s Moses requests to see God’s form (idea) in itself. Philo furthermore suggests that the most highly initiated soul seeks this vision of God not reflected by the divine Logos, who is at best God’s shadow, but sees God’s form directly. In this paper, then, I will argue that Leg. 3.97–103 should not be understood as another example of “light by light, God by God” but as an alternative pattern of Philonic mystical vision, one which draws not primarily on the Respublica but on Plato’s mythic account of the charioteer’s vision in Phaedr. 246a–257b. In particular, Plato’s argument in Phaedr. 253b5–7 that the mind sees the form (idea) of the god that it follows and that such vision facilitates human ethical mimesis should be seen as the primary Platonic intertext guiding Philo’s contemplative and ethical vision in this text. The naturalistic account of vision in Resp. 507c–509b and the mythic account of vision in Phaedr. 246a–257b thus stand as two rival Platonic models, contesting for authority in Philo’s oeuvre.

The mention of a people called Israel in the late 13th century BCE victory hymn of the Egyptian pharaoh Merneptah has long intrigued scholars seeking to reconstruct Israel’s earliest history. This paper seeks to review key issues related to the study of this victory hymn, with a focus on the question of locating Merneptah’s Israel. The focus then turns to the biblical text, where a suggestion is made regarding the historical referent of a vague mention of the Egyptians in Judges 10. Regarding the location of Merneptah's Israel, a consensus seems to have been forming in recent years, associating Merneptah’s Israel with the numerous Cisjordanian highland villages of the Iron I. This paper suggests, however, that if there is indeed an intentional geographic progression inherent within in the mention of Merneptah's defeated foes, and if Yanoam is to be located in the southern Bashan region, as Nadav Na'aman and Anson Rainey have argued, then Merneptah's Israel must also be located within a Transjordanian context. Early Israelite settlement in the Transjordan is suggested by various lines of evidence, which are briefly reviewed. Turning to the biblical text, Judges 10 references a past deliverance from the Egyptians in a list of seven such divine interventions in Israel's early history. The referent of this text has been traditionally understood to be the exodus. However, it is here argued that the ambiguous nature of the reference, together with the Transjordanian context of the oracle, creates the possibility that a Transjordanian encounter between Merneptah's forces and Israelite settlers could serve as the historical referent of the passage.

Social-scientific interpretation started more than thirty years ago based on the insight that the Bible was written by, for and about people in the ancient Mediterranean world whose culture, worldview, social patterns, and daily expectations differed sharply from those of the modern West. Therefore, insights from the social and human sciences are utilized in order to identify and apply the social and cultural scripts of ancient Mediterranean life to biblical texts. But in doing so metatheoretical assumptions about the aim of interpretation inadvertently play a role in characterizing the interpretive enterprise. The work of John Pilch on visions, heavenly journeys and other peak experiences in the biblical world, Flights of the soul, offers a useful example for examining such assumptions and their impact on interpretation. Based on this analysis the question whether social-scientific interpretation merely translates first-century Mediterranean practices and experiences into social scientific jargon or indeed offers new analytical tools for analyzing and understanding them cannot be avoided.

The Hebrew Bible is rich in metaphorical language. Detailed examination of specific texts, however, often engenders debate as to what can be regarded as metaphor. This paper demonstrates the importance of rigorous methodology in all areas of metaphor research and explains the need to choose appropriate methods to address specific research concerns. It outlines a method of metaphor identification which has been proposed by the Pragglejaz group and which has been well received within the discipline of cognitive linguistics. Its limitations and challenges are outlined. The use of the method is demonstrated by examination of a text from the Book of Proverbs. The method aims to identify metaphoric linguistic units by detecting differences between contextual meaning and a more basic meaning and by showing that the two meanings are related by a form of non-literal similarity. The possible application of this method to longer texts in the Hebrew Bible is considered.

This paper presents the issues involved in understanding the origin and development of the temple construction narrative in 1 Kings 6-7, situating the MT account in relation to other construction narratives and to other versions, especially the Septuagint. The paper then discusses these issues in light of past and present research and attempts to articulate new avenues for understanding the textual history of the passage.

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Acquired in the middle of the eighteenth century by the London physician Anthony Askew, the “Pistis Sophia” was the first direct source of Gnosticism known to scholars, yet it is today one of the most underused sources of this field of research. This is the reason why Steve Johnston and I have undertaken the task to breathe new life to the treatise. However, this kind of project brings its share of issues and difficulties, mostly raised by the quantity of text to be studied. The length of the “Pistis Sophia”, which is 356 pages of manuscript long, forces scholars who are interested in the treatise as a whole to identify the principal questions posed by the text, and on which such a project should focus on. What is in fact the state of the research on the “Pistis Sophia”? What is known of the manuscript and does it raise any material problems? Just how reliable is the Coptic text of Carl Schmidt (1925) and is it necessary to make a new critical edition? What is the precise relationship between the four different books of the treatise? Can we identify a system (a cosmogony and cosmology) in the text? How do the “Pistis Sophia” and the “Books of Ieou” relate to one another? What can we say of the milieu in which the treatise could have circulated? These are just a few examples of issues that deserve some attention from modern scholarship.

The study of memory and social memory is tremendously important for historical Jesus research, but not in a positive way. This paper will survey some strategies and mechanisms of memory distortion (e.g., selective omission of disagreeable facts; the outright invention of false memories; exaggeration and embellishment; linking vs. detachment; blaming the enemy; blaming circumstances; and contextual framing). Coming to terms with the nature of memory distortion and considering some examples of “memory” from the Gospel of Matthew make it difficult to emerge with optimism.

The origins of Deuteronomy and its raison d’être have been a centrepiece of Old Testament and Hebrew Bible research for much of the last two centuries. In an attempt to shed light on this question, this paper examines, in brief, the political and economic history of the long seventh century (the late eighth century to the fall of Jerusalem) and, having sketched out the history of the southern Levant during this period through reference to archaeological material in particular, considers the likely social implications of this history in light of anthropological theories of identity formation. It suggests that the experience of political, social and economic change which occurred in the long seventh century is likely to have provoked a process of identity definition aimed at differentiating the population of Judah from its neighbours, noting especially that this very phenomenon was occurring in several other of the southern Levantine territories at this time. Having presented a picture of the probable social situation developing in Judah during the long seventh century, the paper then turns to the book of Deuteronomy, the deuteronomic text in particular, asking whether the interests and objectives indicated by the text make sense in such a context.

It is widely accepted now that the Gospel of John is deeply rooted in Judaism and ancient Jewish traditions. Interpreters of the ethics of the Gospel of John have focused on Jesus as the fulfillment of the Torah (the Sinai tradition). They have not adequately reflected on the fact that Jewish ethical tradition is grounded in both the Sinai tradition and Creation. Creation ethics in the rabbinic tradition emphasize the significance of human dignity, the imago dei, and the ethical imperative of becoming the Image of God through imitation of God – the Human as project rather than ontological given. Following a synopsis of Creation ethics in rabbinic tradition, I will explore the significance of the Genesis traditions in the Prologue and the rest of the Gospel of Johannine ethics.

In the Aeneid, the Cumaean Sibyl brings Aeneas into Hades leading him to his father Anchises, and guiding him to the prophetic visions of the high destiny of the Latin race, and of Augustus, the founder of golden ages returned. Her prophetic status and the advent of the divine (Apollo) are guaranteed by the madness and fury that come upon her (VI.42-80). This paper explores the function of gender in claiming the authority of revelation in two later prose works, Dio Chrysostom’s Oration 1, On Kingship (ca. 100) and the Shepherd of Hermas (before 150). Both present their readers with a woman who like the Sibyl, guides narrator and readers through prophetic experience. In both cases, it seems that the woman both is and is not the Sibyl. In both, the woman’s hair is evidence of her prophetic status In both, the narrator meets the woman in outside the city, in a setting that is explicitly rustic. Both narrators encounter their revealers outside the city, in the consciousness of being rejected by the Roman order. Both are sent with a message conveyed in the narrative. Both works offer a moral choice in the alternative between moral and social qualities personified as female. In both cases, the women prophets are notably free of the fury and mania that causes the Sibyl’s breast to heave and her locks to come undone. The two texts differ significantly in genre and setting and each draws on multiple resources. Further, their Sibylline figures play a limited (though crucial) role in each. But taken together and in conjunction with other texts of the early second century, they suggest a demand for reason and reticence in the representation of prophetic women in that era, and a rejection of the platonic theory that identifies the mantic with mania.

This paper broaches identity profiles within first century Jesus groups by addressing a preliminary issue: the degree of diversity within Jewish groups from the beginning of the Roman period (63 BCE) to the beginning of the first war with Rome (66 CE). Its working assumption is that conversion into first century Jesus groups was so porous as to allow prior identities to be retained; and on that assumption it explores the kind of Jewish identities that would have rolled over into Jesus groups by engaging Martin Goodman’s 2007 'Rome and Jerusalem: The Clash of Ancient Civilizations'. Goodman argues (inter alia) that Jerusalem’s destruction by Rome came, not as the inevitable result of longstanding Jewish anti-Roman sentiment (as is often thought), but as the outcome of happenstance in Roman imperial politics. And as part of his case he offers as premises (1) that until 66 CE Jewish-Roman relations were amicable and (2) that the Jewish violence in this period was with few exceptions not anti-Roman but, in fact, intra-Jewish. With primary reference to Josephus this paper will (a) examine more closely the aspects of Jewish-Roman détente in this period, (b) explore the degree to which such détente fostered intra-Jewish diversity and (c) draw implications from that dynamic for identity profiles within nascent Jesus groups.

The translation of Qur’an 4:1 presents a number of difficulties that bear upon the concept of gender, and the task of sorting out gender hierarchies and relations in Qur’anic discourse. Two Arabic terms in the verse—nafs wa?idah (single soul) and ar?am (lit. “wombs”; idiomatically “family relations”)—have grammatical and semantic associations with the feminine. Here, as elsewhere in Islamic discourse, Divine creativity is subtly and symbolically, but unmistakeably, linked to the physically generative power of the female gender. Yet the attempt to translate these terms in a way that would retain their feminine resonance while also being true to the broader meaning of the verse is difficult, since the connections are facilitated primarily by the particularities of the Arabic language and multivalence of the Arabic terms. The translation process is further complicated by reading the traditional commentaries, which, almost without exception, make little mention of the feminine elements of these terms, or even downplay their significance, while in some cases, noting the profound message about the universal dignity and connection between all human beings latent in the verse. Translating these terms in English in ways that explicitly convey their feminine associations might have the effect of limiting the verse to these particular meanings (given the absence of similarly mulitvalent English terms), and obscure the equally important “universalist” message in the verse. In this presentation, I will discuss the translation choices made in the translation of this verse in the forthcoming HarperCollins Study Qur’an, and the role of that volume’s own commentary in elucidating both the feminine and universal threads that run through the verse.

In the reopening of the debate about Paul and Mark, Joel Marcus argues that the negative things Paul and the author of Mark write about Peter and about members of Jesus’ family is part of the ‘striking similarities’ between Paul’s letters and Mark. Though the figure of Peter is not the focus of Marcus’ article, he does, however, argue in his conclusion that a study of Paul’s and Mark’s attitudes to Peter would support his thesis of the gospel of Mark as being a Pauline gospel, since “not everyone was as negative as Paul about Peter and Jesus’ family – but Mark was” (“Mark – Interpreter of Paul”, NTS 46 [2000], 487). In my paper I shall pursue the basic question of how Mark portrays Peter and discuss the impact of my findings for the general question of the relationship between the Pauline tradition and the gospel of Mark. Since many of those scholars who argue for Mark’s literary dependence on Paul’s letters often assume that Mark’s negative portrait of Peter is influenced in one way or the other by Paul’s attitude to Peter, an examination of the specific relationship between their portrayals of Peter is needed. While interpreters usually have searched for parallels between the portrayals of Peter in Paul and Mark, I will, however, argue for another and to my mind far more interesting and significant parallel between the Markan Peter and Paul’s letters. Mark’s ambiguous portrayal of Peter does not reproduce Paul’s portrayal of Peter, but another effective ambiguous apostolic portrayal in Paul’s letters, namely that of Paul himself.

Most treatments of Judean Pillar Figurines (JPFs) apply one interpretation to the entire corpus, without considering the variety of archaeological contexts and individual sites where the figurines are found. Moreover, such inter¬pretations tend to associate figurine meaning/function with human sexuality or the products thereof, i.e. coitus, conception, birth, and child mortality. At the same time, the connection between the various archaeological contexts of figurines and these types of interpretations remain tenuous at best. Thus, the most oft-repeated positions are also those with the least amount of archaeological confirmation. In an attempt to model a site-specific archaeological approach to JPFs this paper uses archaeological data from Jerusalem to test dominant hypotheses and to suggest a more nuanced approach to figurine ritual in the Judean capital. The data from Jerusalem is ripe for such analysis, given the large numbers of figurines from the city, the quality of recent archaeological publications, and the centrality of Jerusalem in the eighth through sixth centuries, B.C.E. To that end, the paper begins by briefly summarizing the most common interpretations applied to the JPFs. It then explores various aspects of Jerusalem archaeology, including architectural context, archae¬ological assemblage, and petrographic data, to test the validity of current interpretations. The paper proceeds to outline those aspects of figurine production and use that might be unique to the Jerusalem area and closes by emphasizing the importance of site-specific archaeological context in inter¬preting the function and status of JPFs.

The past 20 years of excavation in northern Moab have opened a window on the religious practices of the Iron Age peoples of central Jordan. The discovery of two temple buildings, one at Khirbat al-Mudayna on the northern rim of the Dhiban plateau and the other at Atarus yielded two very distinct assemblages of cultic paraphernalia. A third repertoire in the form of dozens of female and male figurines and ceramic statues at WT-13, a shrine site 3 km west of Khirbat al-Mudayna, has links to sites in the Negev and Arabah, but tells us little about the deities worshiped by the devotees who visited the site. This paper will investigate the symbolism of a horse and rider depicted on an ivory scarab and the large number of horse figurines found at Khirbat al-Mudayna as evidence for the worship of Astarte in central Jordan.

Shenoute of Atripe is widely known as an advocate for the poor and as a preacher who delivered public sermons for the benefit of diverse audiences. As Ariel Lopez’s recent work on Shenoute has shown, he depicts himself as patron of the poor and speaks out against oppressive landlords. He also boasts of “crowds” that flock to his monastery, bolstering the impression that he caters to common people. Scholars have followed Shenoute’s lead by describing his church as public space and by interpreting Shenoute’s care for thousands of refugees during a barbarian raid as a sign of interaction with even the lowliest laypeople. However, based on my study of Shenoute’s sermons, Shenoute was less concerned with speaking to the poor than he was with speaking about them. He was not a regular preacher with a consistent congregation. At times, Shenoute went for extended periods without visiting his own monks, much less making himself available to a wider audience. And when Shenoute did preach to visitors, they were frequently very important ones, such as clergy or government officials. His discussions of “the poor” usually appear in sermons addressed to such elite visitors, whom Shenoute—just like other contemporary preachers—encourages to perform their social duties with justice and mercy. I argue that Shenoute’s interactions with the poor were actually fairly limited, and that his way of talking about them fits into more widely understood paradigms for preaching on poverty. Like John Chrysostom and Augustine, Shenoute often discusses the poor before an audience that does not necessarily include them. Rather than read Shenoute’s discourse on poverty as a sign of intimate engagement with the poor, we should, in the end, interpret it as one of the many strategies that Shenoute uses to criticize and direct the behavior of his higher-class conversation partners.

Interpreters have long recognized similarities between the books of Ruth and Esther. In addition to noting that they are the only two biblical books named after female characters, scholars have argued that the books share a similar genre (the novella) and explore similar themes (gender roles, divine providence, life in alien lands). Because these comparisons are often made without consideration of the books’ location in the Jewish canon, scholars have tended to overlook how these similarities provide a thematic frame for the Megilloth. As the beginning and ending of this five-book collection (at least in our earliest Hebrew manuscripts), the books of Ruth and Esther are the framework within which we read the Megilloth; their themes set the agenda for the entire collection. The purpose of this paper is to explore this dynamic, especially in terms of divine providence, a theme that is prominent (and not unambiguous) in Ruth and Esther but which also resonates in the books of Songs of Songs, Ecclesiastes, and Lamentations.

Recent archaeological work on Cyprus challenges the unified Romanitas model of first century Cyprus articulated by T. B. Mitford in 1980 which dominates most discussion of the Pauline mission recorded in Acts 13. Archaeological data suggests a complexity of identity in first century Cyprus that can be isolated physically. A new picture of the Roman province is emerging, as a complex multi-cultural entity looking both east to the Levant and west to Rome particularly in the first half of the first century AD. Recent studies of Roman ceramics in use on the island, both utilitarian and elite vessels, indicate significant differentiation in Cypriot trade routes and connections. This division is reinforced in both the circulation of coinage and in the ideology expressed in first century imperial coinage minted for use on Cyprus. Differences in the way mercantile space is shaped between Paphos and the rest of Roman Cyprus underscore the differences in cultural identity between the Roman provincial capital and the rest of the island. The internal cultural divisions of the province evidenced in the archaeology are most famously negotiated by Paul and Barnabas in the Lukan account in Acts 13. When Paul enters Nea Paphos, he has crossed a significant identity boundary, leaving behind his cultural/identity “comfort zone. “ The challenge presented by the new identity space in Paphos helps explain the change of Saul, the apostle to the Jews to Paul the apostle to the Gentiles.

Work on the Semantic Dictionary of Biblical Hebrew, a modern approach to Biblical Hebrew lexicography based on insights from cognitive linguistics, has been going on for ten years. Several Hebrew scholars affiliated with the United Bible Societies and several universities in different countries have contributed to this project. From the early beginning of the project the results have been made available via the web as it has always been the intention to develop and publish this dictionary as an electronic database. Even though this dictionary is structured as an alphabetical dictionary, its use of two classes of semantic groupings makes it easy to group words that are semantically related together. The dictionary also tries to chart how extensions of meanings take place by describing them as mappings from one domain to another. To date, around 50% of the dictionary is completed and accessible via its website www.sdbh.org. To celebrate this milestone, the website has been be totally renewed, with a new and more user-friendly interactive layout. In addition, we want to encourage other web initiatives to use the SDBH data. Scripts will be provided to allow other web projects access to the data and download SDBH entries using either the Hebrew lemma or the Strong’s index. It is also possible to provide a Scripture reference and SDBH will return all available entries with their meaning in that particular reference. This presentation will consist of (1) a concise summary of the theoretical framework underlying the dictionary, (2) an overview of the methodology used to gather lexicographical data, (3) an insight in the underlying structure of the data, (4) an explanation of the structure and layout of the new website, and (5) an invitation to other web projects to make use of these data.

This paper provides a brief orientation to the study of figurines and thus introduces the special session and its goals. It further provides a succinct outline of the comparative method and addresses the importance of iconographic analysis of these figurines.

Metaphor is charmingly simple: it is understanding one thing in terms of another. The present paper puts this definition and its usability for semantic studies of the Hebrew Bible to the test. Iconic examples as ‘life is a journey,’ ‘man is a wolf,’ and ‘argument is war,’ set a lot of tongues wagging in Biblical scholarship, but when applied to the Biblical text, it takes great skill to apply an easy definition. Lakoff and Johnson’s famous book deals with metaphors constantly, but has no chapter on how to identify metaphors. Indeed, how to do the latter is only rarely made explicit. Nonetheless, our field of study demands for systematic, verifiable approaches. However simple that might seem, it entails a great many quandaries. The available methodological frameworks include, for instance, componential semantics, cognitive semantics and MIP (Metaphor Identification Procedure). Do these theories agree on the practical steps that should be followed in order to identify a metaphor? To name but a few questions, how do we choose the right name for a metaphor? How do we distinguish between different levels of metaphors? Or between metaphors and their metaphoric entailments? In this paper, we examine a set of concrete, real life, Biblical examples in an attempt to simulate a research context in which an easy definition of metaphor is hard to apply. We suggest several strategies to find metaphors in a text and we outline the benefits of metaphor research for Biblical exegesis.

In most instances the study of ‘faith’ in early Christianity has been related to theological issues, particularly to its meaning in the daily devotion of Christian life. The aim of this paper is to revisit the concept of faith as an attitudinal practice, with the writings of John Chrysostom serving as a case study. If one reads Chrysostom’s homily 23 On Hebrews, it becomes clear that faith has social, cultural and political dimensions alongside its conventional religious dimension. Chrysostom especially relates faith to the communication, transmission and regulation of knowledge (especially, but not exclusively, by means of prophecy). Once knowledge is concerned, the dynamics of power are active. This would have very practical implications for the formation of virtue and identities in late ancient Christian communities. Through this lens, the paper will especially focus on Chrysostom’s discussions of faith in connection with reason (and knowledge), virtue (and discipline) and identity (and alterity).

Max Weber’s theory of the routinization of charisma has been widely adopted as an explanation of religious development. The initial phase of this process has typically been characterized as one of ‘primitive’ religious belief wherein the validity and veracity of claims to visionary experience remain wholly unchallenged, and the authority of such phenomena is deemed absolute. This hermeneutical framework implicitly underpins much of the research on these phenomena within the Acts of the Apostles, contributing to the prevailing interpretation of visionary experience within the text as little more than a means of illustrating the hand of God at work (E. Haenchen, 1971; R.I. Pervo, 1987). This has led to the corresponding accusation that these reports lack any critical awareness of the potential misuse and misinterpretation of such phenomena (J.D.G.Dunn, 1975). These apparent shortcomings within the Acts material are attributed to the naïveté of the author and his idealized view of the earlier charismatic communities depicted within the narrative, an argument in which the function of visionary experience within such communities has simply been assumed. This paper aims to demonstrate that such conclusions fail to offer a satisfactory account of the Acts material, suggesting that the unacknowledged dominance of Weber’s theory has limited the scope of research within this field. It will be argued that the socio-literary analysis of dream-vision reports within Acts offers an alternative hermeneutical possibility, which will be demonstrated by the use of Acts 12:6-19 as a case in point. This account problematizes existing interpretations and hints at a critical awareness of the potential pitfalls and challenges that accompany claims to visionary experience by narrating, without embarrassment, two instances wherein the characters are mistaken about their initial interpretations of visionary or quasi-visionary experience.

From a postcolonial perspective, the book of Joshua is arguably the most troubling book of Hebrew Scripture. All the more surprising then, to find in a small and often-overlooked detail of the closing ritual (24:25-27), similarities between the indicated use of the “Book of the Law of God” (sefer torath elohim) and a particular postcolonial use of Scripture. An examination of the role of the standing stone in Joshua 24 suggests some interesting parallels between the function of the sefer torath elohim in the sanctuary at Shechem and the function of the Bible in the hands of dingaka (diviner-healers) in African Indigenous Churches in modern-day Botswana. Referring to a) scholarship on the function of massebot (also known as betyls and stelae) in ancient Israel and the surrounding Near East, as well as b) postcolonial biblical literature (most notably the work of Musa Dube) which discusses the dingaka’s communication with the Badimo/Ancestors for the purposes of healing, this paper will offer a different slant on the much examined covenant in Joshua 24. The implications for current uses of Scripture will be briefly considered. How might this particular connection be of value for those religious practitioners around the world for whom Hebrew Scriptures are a sacred text, and whose consciousness has been raised by postcolonial biblical studies?

The book of Isaiah is rich in literary form and technique. One such technique used is the personification of nature. This paper explores how this technique contributes to the theological message of Isaiah, i.e., how the personification of nature helps to create a portrait of God and aids the poet in delivering an inspiring vision and message of hope. The paper also considers how the personification of nature invites readers today to ponder their ethical responsibility to the natural world whose existence is foundational to poetic expression and imagination. Passages and verses to be studied include Isa 24:4-5, 19-20; 35:1-4; 42:10-20; 44:23; 45:8; and 49:13.

The Myth of Conversion: Christian Adherence, Group, and Religious Identity in Second-Century Rome

To this day the Greek-Orthodox exegetical perspective retains a remarkable connection with the early Greek patristic exegesis. This connection was established during the early modern period as a reaction to Western attempts to propagate either Protestant or Roman-Catholic (scholastic) interpretations in the Orthodox world. In a time when the West, under the influence of the Reformation and the Enlightenment, began to approximate Scripture from an academic, historical and rational point of view the East reacted with an emphatic (re)turn to the early patristic commentaries. Therefore, I seek to outline the main tendencies and exegetical works concerning this reaction in the early modern Orthodox world, i.e. from 1450 to 1800. Of course one can also note some exceptions (cf. the example of Cyrill Lucaris 1572–1638) but the main stream of Eastern Orthodoxy defends the early Greek exegesis. This tendency culminates during the 18th and 19th century in the so-called byzantine and hesychast renaissance as well as in the large exegetical work of Nicodemus the Hagiorite (1748-1809). In my presentation I attempt to explain not only the theological but also the cultural reasons which caused this renaissance of patristic exegesis. I will also elaborate on the establishment of an independent mind-set that is characteristic of the modern Orthodox exegetes in relation to the patristic interpretation of Scripture. Similarly, I consider the reflections of some of the most renowned modern Orthodox theologians (e.g. Georges Florovsky) concerning the value of the patristic tradition for the Orthodox interpretation of Scripture as well as Western evaluations of the profile of Orthodox scriptural interpretation. Lastly, I present my own estimation concerning the special future potential of Orthodox exegesis and the possibility of combining patristic interpretation with modern exegetical methods.

Recent discoveries at Tell Tayinat.

Judean Pillar Figurines were first recorded in the 19th century and since then they are frequently found at almost all Iron Age II sites in Judea. They were the subject of many papers and monographs. The most comprehensive essay on this topic is Raz Kletter, The Judean pillar figurines and the archaeology of Asherah (Oxford, 1996; English edition of Hebrew PhD dissertation at Tel Aviv University, 1995). Today, 150 years later, many questions regarding their representation and function are still enigmatic. The present paper will deal with style and iconography used by the artists and new suggestions will be offered.

Vision is a key means of interaction between the human and the divine, in few places more so than in Mesopotamia, where people could come face to face with their gods in the form of cosmic bodies, cult statues, and even, in the context of myth, anthropomorphic incarnations. While some research has been conducted on the vocabulary of vision in the Sumerian and Akkadian languages and on gaze and frontality in Mesopotamian art, little attention has previously been paid to the role of vision as a vehicle for religious experience and as a means of divine intervention. This paper examines the theological implications of the subject-specific usage of vision vocabulary in Mesopotamian literature, based on the grammatical, statistical, and contextual analysis of over 1600 instances of verbs of vision compiled from the Mesopotamian literary corpus. Close scrutiny of the vocabulary reveals that Sumerian and Akkadian distinguish between sight and gaze, where “sight” denotes inward-moving perception and “gaze” signifies outward-moving visual action. The usage of verbs of sight and gaze in both languages falls out dramatically along divine and human lines, with gods being more than three times as likely to gaze as human beings in Sumerian-language texts and twice as likely in Akkadian texts. Moreover, each language includes a particular verb formulation designating gaze that has causative force; this type of influential gaze is under the almost exclusive purview of the gods. The unequal distribution of vision verbs indicates that the Mesopotamians conceived of their gods as essentially active, emanating power outward to affect the world, and of human beings as inherently passive, perceiving rather than performing. The paper argues that the unique operation of divine vision in the literature is part of a cohesive view of the gods as a source of outward-emanating powers that also include radiance and speech.

Both the text of 2 Samuel 6, and the representations of Opet festivals left by generations of Egyptian kings are statements of royal ideology. The ideologies are communicated through a variety of elements, many of which are unique to their specific contexts. Similarities between those contexts, and between some of the elements themselves allow for fruitful comparison between biblical text and Egyptian image and inscription. The people dance and process along with David as he “debases” himself before the Lord. During various celebrations of Opet the people line the Nile or gather at the Luxor portico to witness the king merge with the royal ka, and leave some of his particularity behind. The function of this access and the royal transformation is to garner and claim public support for the individual who is king at that moment as well as for the overall office of kingship in that context. This paper presents a constructive comparison of the biblical procession of the ark to the City of David and specific royal representations of the Opet festival in Egypt. It does so with comparative methodology informed by ritual studies but without an attempt to reconstruct exact accounts of historical events. As a study of rhetoric it asks how the shapers of the biblical text or the Egyptian Opet reliefs allow the events to be seen or read. The result is increased insight into the rhetorical function of both processions. The paper focuses on two of the more salient resulting insights. The first is the function of public access to the shared space of deity and king. The second is the king’s acts of self-effacement as cloaked acts of self-promotion. Though difference are to be noted between the two, the comparison allows for better understanding of the message and manner of communication of both the biblical ark procession and the Egyptian Opet festival as well as better understanding of royal ideology in both contexts.

The Aramaic texts from Qumran constitute a specific corpus with its own language, genres and concerns. It displays two focal interests: antediluvian events leading up to the flood and the lives of the patriarchs; and eschatological visions and legendary tales of later figures. Within this framework, the book of Daniel plays a special role. Its presence is noticeable equally in the foreground and background of various Aramaic texts. Since Daniel acquired its final form in 164 BCE and thus is more or less contemporary with many Aramaic texts from Qumran, the question arises regarding whether Daniel is the source of such similarities or whether it merely reflects older traditions shared by contemporary, or even earlier, Aramaic works.

Can visual imagery inform gendered analyses of biblical literature? What information do images provide about women’s (or men’s) lives? How does one identify gendered norms in ancient media, whether texts or images? Questions such as these arise when iconographic and gendered approaches to biblical interpretation intersect. This paper maps and describes some of these intersections to identify potential for fruitful collaboration and issues that may subsequently emerge. The paper suggests that previous gendered analyses of biblical literature incorporate images in at least three identifiable ways: 1) Images are treated as data alongside texts to reconstruct women’s history; 2) Images are analyzed to determine gendered norms as a basis for comparison in a passage; 3) Images are utilized to help clarify the source of imagery in a feminist engagement of a passage. While these previous intersections between iconographic and gendered approaches utilize images to inform a gendered analysis of biblical literature, this paper also seeks to identify ways that theories about gender may add nuance to existing discussions of visual imagery from the ancient Near East. Thus, the paper contends that interactions between these two approaches can be mutually enriching and a worthwhile collaborative pursuit for future research.

The question of whether Phoenicians employed aniconic (as opposed to iconic) representational techniques has significance not only for the many under-explored aspects of Phoenician religion, but also for the question of whether aniconism can be considered a broader trend among the Semitic populations of the ancient Near East. Indeed, past research on aniconic phenomena is often motivated by a desire to understand the larger context of the Hebrew Bible’s proscription of divine images—does this most famous of image-prohibitions represent a kind of religious or intellectual parthenogenesis, or is it one vigorous form of a broader West Semitic trend toward aniconic cultic expressions? In this paper, which focuses on Iron Age materials from mainland Phoenicia and the Mediterranean colonies, I argue that that the Phoenicians did participate in an iconographic program that moved toward divine symbols, abstract forms, and even purely aniconic expressions. However, I argue that previous treatments of Phoenician iconography have inappropriately downplayed many examples of native Phoenician anthropomorphic depiction, and a careful examination of the material record shows hitherto unappreciated nuances of Phoenician divine imagery. On a methodological level, I argue that the term “aniconism” needs to be rigorously defined. Indeed, with very few exceptions, “aniconism” is not defined at all in discussions of Phoenician or Near Eastern aniconic movements, and this lacunae of method represents a major problem for studying iconography. I draw on the work of art historians, classicists, and philosophers such as David Freedberg, Richard Shiff, Milette Gaifmann, and Hans-Georg Gadamer to approach the difficult questions of representation, abstraction, and empty space in religious depiction. I argue that aniconic representation can only be considered on a continuum, as the very notion of “aniconic representation” is an art-historical and religious paradox.

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When Paul addresses his converts as “Gentiles” (e.g., Rom 11:13), he was, of course, using an identity term that non-Jews would not readily use of themselves. As a Jewish designation for outsiders, the descriptor “Gentiles” (ethne: nations) would have had little more natural appeal for non-Jews than “barbarian” would have had for non-Greeks. In becoming part of Paul’s network of ekklesiai, however, non-Jews found themselves in a social world where ethne was a basic category and where the binary distinction between Jews and Gentiles functioned as a foundational element in the discourses of identity among the early Christ-believers. But what would Paul’s converts themselves have thought about this ascribed identity? The question is worth asking, even in the absence of any direct evidence. In this paper I will explore the question, looking at Paul’s uses of the term in conjunction with two other sets of data (denotations and connotations of the term in the Greco-Roman world, especially in imperial discourse; use and appropriation of the term by later Gentile Christians). With the aid of selected cross-cultural comparative studies (especially identity theory and models of conversion), I will attempt to identify the range of possible responses to the ascribed identity, to assess probabilities, and thus to say something about identity perceptions among Paul’s Gentile converts in relationship to the Jewish world of their apostle.

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Until this year, Daniel S. Mynatt’s 1994 monograph “The Sub Loco Notes in the Torah of Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia” was the only work that attempted to comprehensively explain why BHS’s Masorah editor Gérard E. Weil marked certain Masorah notes “sub loco.” The principal (and valuable) contribution that Mynatt’s research produced is a threefold taxonomy of the 297 sub loco notes featured in the Torah of BHS. While Mynatt recognized the importance of consulting the Masorah of A, he was only able to check 23 of the 297 notes against this manuscript, and this prevented him from comprehensively evaluating Weil’s emendations. My Ph.D. dissertation, “The Sub Loco Notes in the Former Prophets of Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia” builds upon Mynatt’s method by presenting for each entry the corresponding Mp notes of both A and C. In this paper I illustrate the strengths and weaknesses of Weil’s approach that recourse to these manuscripts has manifested, and I discuss the implications thereof for classification of this corpus’ sub loco notes.

Origen of Alexandria and Gregory of Nyssa—two early Christian readers of the Song of Songs—used the image of the veil to construct their theories of interpretation. The image of the veil as that which covers truth, and thus provokes its unveiling, has interested writers from antiquity (Paul, Origen) to today (Cixous, Derrida, Irigaray). In Veils (co-authored with Cixous), Derrida critiques the Christianized conception of truth as a “history of veils,” a history of “its folds, complications, explications of its revelations or unveilings” (38). This paper brings this late twentieth century critique of truth-as-veiled into conversation with Origen and Gregory’s readings of the Song of Songs. Origen conceives of the “letter” of scripture as a veil covering the spiritual meaning of the text, much as the “veil of flesh” covers the Word/Christ. The veiling and unveiling of the bride in the Song of Songs serves as a provocation for Origen to explore the (desirous) relationship between language and truth and between interpreter and text. Gregory builds on Origen’s understandings of text as veil and interpretation as unveiling. In his homilies on the Song, Gregory presents the “veil of flesh” as that which must be removed not only in the reader’s pursuit of the Word but also in the ascetic’s quest for bodily purification and union with Christ. The progress of desire for Christ (as Word, as Bridegroom) is marked by a series of unveilings. Considering the recent attention that Paul has received among continental theorists, this paper closes by asking a series of questions about the impact of Origen and Gregory’s conceptions of the veil on the development of a Western, Christian “logic of the veil.”

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In 2 Cor 3:6, Paul speaks of his ministry (diakonia) in connection with the new covenant (kaine diatheke), a covenant “not of letter but spirit,” for, the apostle insists, “the letter kills but the spirit gives life.” Shortly thereafter, in 3:14, Paul mentions the old covenant (palaia diatheke) in connection with Moses and his ministry. Typically, interpreters insist that Paul is intent here on pointing out that the old covenant (which brings death) has been superseded by the new (which brings life). Support for such a reading is marshaled from 2 Cor 3:7 (where Paul describes the Mosaic ministry as a “ministry of death”) and various passages from Romans (e. g., Rom 7:11; 8:2; and 8:6). Two serious problems underlie such a reading. One is the presumption that the two covenants, the old and the new, were intended by Paul as opposites, to be set over against one another. The second is the assumption that the terms diakonia (“ministry”) and diatheke (“covenant”) are synonymous. My paper will consist of two arguments. First, I will show that the terms diakonia and diatheke are not equivalent in this passage. The former term, diakonia, has to do with the mission of the deity’s envoy, whether that envoy be Moses or Paul. The latter term diatheke, however, points to a contract or agreement between the deity and a people. This distinction is significant because, in Paul’s eyes, the ministry (diakonia) of Moses had an impact on all of humanity but the old covenant (paliaia diatheke)—which I would translated as ancient covenant—was meant only for Israel. Second, I will argue that Paul did not intend to argue that the newer covenant was meant to replace the older one. Rather, the two covenants were meant for two different groups of people. The ancient covenant (palaia diatheke) was meant for Israel and the new covenant (kaine diatheke) was intended for the gentiles.

In recent decades, the rise of rhetorical criticism has spurred the production of numerous studies offering detailed analyses both of the rhetorical structure of individual speeches in Acts and of Luke’s overarching rhetorical aims and techniques. More recently, interpreters have begun to explore the possibility that Luke’s writings may hint at his facility with some of the rhetorical exercises outlined in the progymnasmata, ancient textbooks containing a series of progressively more complex exercises in rhetorical composition designed to prepare students for the more rigorous demands of declamation. The purpose of this paper is to enter into this ongoing conversation by examining the resurrection kerygma of Peter in Acts 2:14–40 and Paul in Acts 13:16–41 through the lenses of the progymnastic exercises of ethopoeia (speech-in-character), syncrisis (comparison), and paraphrasis (paraphrase). After providing a brief introduction to these exercises, I will demonstrate that the two speeches make similar use of comparison and paraphrase as means of appropriating Israel’s history and scriptures (particularly traditions concerning David) in the service of their proclamation of Jesus’ resurrection. Furthermore, I will contend that some of the two addresses’ key similarities and differences may be illuminated by interpreting them as speeches-in-character whose distinctive features are largely determined by the three-sided relationship among speaker, audience, and the events of Jesus’ death and resurrection. It is my hope that such a reading of these speeches will yield fresh insights into their rhetorical impact while also providing an impetus for the further investigation of the potential significance of the progymnasmata for Lukan interpretation.

In terms of erudition and scope, William Loader’s multiple volumes on ancient sexuality—and most recently, The New Testament on Sexuality (2012)—represent a monumental achievement. While appreciating the significant contribution that the latest volume makes to the study of the Bible, sexuality, and gender, this paper critically engages Loader’s work with a focus specifically on the notion of “perversion” and its function in his larger hermeneutical argument. Loader argues that “Paul’s anthropology in relation to sexual orientation needs supplementing with the reality that not all who engage in sexual intimacy with those of their own kind are engaging in perversion” (499). He thus concludes that those involved in such relationships (i.e., “non-perverse”) in the present day ought not to fall under the condemnation of Romans 1. Yet how are we to understand this concept of “perversion” and the theological and political work that it does in Loader’s argument? On the one hand, the book’s exegesis of Romans 1 follows a relatively traditional track, insofar as it fails to engage the text in terms of the radically different “logics of sexuality” (Martin 2006, 60) that numerous scholars have suggested undergird this passage, especially with respect to gender and desire. On the other hand, Loader’s treatment of Paul elsewhere consistently downplays the radicality of the apostle’s apocalyptic stance on the status of desire. In this way, Loader renders it far easier to draw straightforward lines of continuity between the Pauline text and contemporary theological concerns. Paul therefore emerges as a somewhat domesticated and decidedly “unqueer” apostle. The result, I suggest, is that Loader’s reading both problematically presupposes a basic transhistorical singularity (and/or conceptual stability) to so-called “same-sex intercourse” and at the same time seeks to disavow the ongoing authority of the apostle’s putative conclusions by ethical fiat. Accordingly, the latter move requires the category of “perversion” not so much to make sense of Paul in his first-century context, but rather to serve as an arbiter for legitimating certain kinds of relationships (and delegitimizing others) in the present.

In order to render a verb within the syntactic pattern in which it occurs, it is necessary to take into account different features like: the presence of a direct object – one, multiple, or none, the possibility of an idiomatic expression involving the direct object involved and the presence and particular function of prepositions in relation to the verb. Specific existing translations will be compared and evaluated for the discussed cases and concrete recommendations will be given for translation praxis.

Biblical passages that describe meals and domestic food preparation activities show that women were the primary cooks and bakers in ancient Israelite households. The archaeological data seem to corroborate this when evaluated in light of ethnographic and ethnoarchaeological studies of traditional household cooking practices in the Middle East, and recent studies in household archaeology in Iron Age Israel and Judah (ca. 1200-586 B.C.E.) have shed light on the gendered use of space, components of the ancient diet, aspects of cooking and baking technology and more. Less is known about meals and cooking activities outside the home by the settled (not nomadic) population, however. What was eaten on the road while traveling, in the fields in the middle of a day of agricultural work or on military campaigns, and who was responsible for preparing this fast food? In this presentation, I will consider biblical descriptions of meals prepared and eaten along the way and explore other sources of evidence, including ethnographic material and archaeological remains, for these practices in the Iron Age. I am particularly interested in examining the gender aspects of specific food preparation activities outside of household spaces, and I will suggest that certain foods and food technologies were gendered female or male regardless of spatial context.

Deciding on a text for an undergraduate course on biblical studies can be a very difficult challenge, in part due to the number of choices available and also because such textbooks very often seem deficient to the highly trained (and perhaps a bit fussy) professor in some way. Further exacerbating this problem is the requirement in some contexts for multiple professors teaching a single course to decide on a common textbook. Drawing from the example of introductory courses in biblical studies at Huntingdon College in Montgomery, Alabama, this paper explores two issues: 1) the advantages and disadvantages of eschewing a textbook altogether in favor of the biblical text alone and 2) the need to choose representative texts from the Bible when this approach is chosen and the criteria one might use in order to do so. By foregrounding the primary literature over secondary texts and by breaking out of dated models that require a complete survey of the Bible, teachers are freed to focus more intently on goals like better interpretive skill. Once the focus becomes careful, critical reading, the inclusion of biblical studies courses in a general education curriculum becomes easier to advocate for among colleagues suspicious of the Bible’s continued place of prominence in liberal arts education. The skill of reading carefully transfers easily across texts and fields, even if one believes special reading skills are necessary when reading texts perceived as sacred in particular reading communities.

The sparse information about Paul’s activities before his call have been the focus of numerous studies. It has been argued that he was ‘converted’ or ‘freed’ from a zeal for the law. Others have proposed that Paul was converted from a violent person who had replicated the imperial power strategy to a non-violent apostle. Although I have sympathies for the image of a non-violent Paul, I will argue that the problem, and the passion with which Paul pursued to solve it, were actually the same before and after his call. What changed was the means by which he saw a solution to the problem. The problem was people from the nations who were partly associated with Judaism, sympathizers who followed aspects of the Torah, but continued to be involved in polytheistic cult practices. Association with them would have imparted impurity o the community and thus endangered the holiness of the people Israel. The problem Paul thus tried to solve through persecution could well have been a perceived association of Jewish Christ-followers with sympathizers. Paul would have considered such a group which associated partly with the God of Israel and his people without dissociating themselves from polytheistic cult practices as problematic. But whilst before his call the only solution would have been conversion to Judaism, in Christ another way was now open: if the nations ‘turned away from idols’, they could attain a status of holiness through purification in Christ and as such could ‘come near,’ without converting to Judaism. Paul’s stance then concerning the exclusivity of belonging to the God of Israel did not change through his calling experience, he was still concerned with the holiness of God and his people, but there was now a way via which ‘Greeks and barbarians’ could join in the glorification of God.

Over the past decade or so I have been devoting my attention to the figure of Moses, not only as he appears in the Hebrew Bible but also as he has been reinterpreted over the course of the centuries within postbiblical culture. Although I have lectured on the subject and published a number of preliminary studies examining various motifs and themes that appear within the reception history of the Moses figure, my ultimate aim is to publish a cultural history of Moses in monograph form, a project that is already under contract. An important aspect of my research has been – and continues to be – an investigation into how works of representational art serve as part of the interpretative tradition, illustrating, interpreting, and rewriting their textual sources. Certainly this applies in the case of the oft-depicted Moses. According to its website, the Walters Art Museum in Baltimore possesses close to twenty depictions of Moses, most of them occurring as manuscript illustrations. In this presentation I would like to examine these artworks as examples of “midrash” on the biblical text and contextualize them both within the reception-historical tradition and within the development of artistic conventions relating to the depiction of Moses over the course of time. The aim of the presentation is not only to introduce the audience to these specific works of art but also to allow the auditors to gain insight into the interpretative worlds than may be accessed through a close intertextual reading of both image and word.

Performance criticism has provided an essential outlet that explores the rhetorical effect texts have on audiences. Investigating the performance of the text has answered exegetical puzzles and provided a number of insights into identity formation in Mark’s gospel. The messianic secret and the persistent failure of the disciples to recognize Jesus’ identity within the gospel have been surveyed from a performance critical perspective with significant results. This perspective has revealed that the implied reader in the narrative world and the implied audience in the performative world have a deeper and more secure knowledge of Jesus’ identity in the gospel than the characters within the narrative. In this paper I uncover how questions in Mark’s gospel both strengthen the audience’s presuppositions about the identity of Jesus and further the division between audience and character. On the one hand, a number of questions in Mark’s gospel are intentionally left unanswered in order that the audience might supply their own answer and reinforce their understanding of Jesus’ identity. On the other hand, there are questions in the gospel that are answered by a character in the narrative world. It is often the case that these questions are answered in a way that the audience would expect, in a manner that would confirm their preconceived notions about Jesus’ identity.

A late Herodian fragment in The Schøyen Collection, which will be presented in the paper, covers Deut 32:5-9. In two cases the fragment preserved a unique textual variant. One of these variants is extant, the other is reconstructed based on the material remains of the text. The variant in 32:9 is related to, but different from the reading of LXX and Smr, “Indeed, the portion of YHWH is his people Jacob, Israel is the lot of his inheritance.” To understand the textual development of 32:8-9, both the Qumran material and the witness of Targums Jonathan and Neofiti must be taken into account. Tg. Jonathan combines two competing readings of v. 8b, while Neofiti elaborates on two different readings of v. 9. The Schøyen variant to v. 9 adds weight to the Smr/LXX variant as a valid alternative to M, still known in first-century Judea. The text of Neofiti shows that this variant text was not forgotten well into the rabbinic period.

Based on prior work on Gregory of Nazianzus’s ideas regarding logoi (in Sons of Hellenism, 2012), I will look at debates in Antioch during the later part of the fourth century to see whether or not Gregory’s view were his own, or whether he stands for a broader consensus. I will focus on what we have of the writings of Theodore of Mopsuestia and those of Apollinaris, in addition to those of John Chrysostom to test whether or not they were influences by Gregory or present views that are similar – or not. At any rate, these three authors wrote as educated Christian leaders in Antioch while Gregory was still active. Theodore and John Chrysostom, moreover, were students of Libanius, Rafaella Cribiore’s focus, and a person for whom Gregory expressed great respect. For all, the issue of logoi, the traditional education, was a topic of crucial importance. But it would be important to know (albeit difficult to test) whether it was only persons such as Libanius and his view of logoi who was of interest to his Christian disciples such as Theodore and John Chrysostom, or whether there were other positions on paideia as well. This last question may be outside the scope of this paper; yet, it is important to posit.

With the rise of world Christianity, the need for intercultural hermeneutics is intensifying. However, methods which authentically synthesize different voices are lacking. Typically, after establishing a Western view, a non-Western view is compared to it. This approach seemingly measures the “other” against a Western “ruler” and continues to marginalize these other voices. In contrast, this paper appropriates Gadamer’s hermeneutical philosophy of “fusion of horizons” by engaging traditional exegetical methods through the lens of a contextual, conceptual paradigm. Exegesis of the Decalogue— with an emphasis on the generational curse—is integrated with a conceptual paradigm developed from fieldwork among Maasai theologians and pastors in Tanzania, East Africa. The safari (journey) results in a mutually-enriching engagement with the text which approaches a fusion of horizons, without marginalizing distinctive voices.

This paper focuses on the hermeneutic of retrieval outlined by Norman Habel (2008) as one of three ecological hermeneutics that complement and supplement the ecojustice principles set out by the Earth Bible Team (2000). It notes an intersection between this principle and the feminist hermeneutic of creative imagination described by Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza. The paper surveys considerations and uses of the ecojustice principle of voice and its relation to the hermeneutic of retrieval. In dialogue with Walsh, Karsh, and Ansell (1996) on the responsiveness of creation and with Eaton (2000) and Conradie (2010) on the principle of voice, I argue that the ecojustice principle of voice is not simply a metaphor enabling biblical readers to attend to an Earth community of which humans are but part, as if Earth had a voice like a human subject, but the principle of voice is also a biblical principle, evident in the psalms, which can be read as expressing a biblical animism, where Earth has subjecthood and agency. Much of the Second Testament, however, seems not to mention Earth directly and a question arises concerning the application of the principle of voice. I take the Magnificat as an example. How might the interpreter retrieve an Earth voice in a text such as the Magnificat that seems oriented toward inter-human concerns for social justice? The Magnificat has been understood variously as a song of praise, a song of prophetic response, a song of protest. Based on a close reading of the Magnificat, I suggest several ways in which the voice of Earth might be retrieved in this song in the mouth of a woman, Mary of Nazareth. First, the text itself is not simply words in koine Greek or in translation, but the words of the song and its rhythm, the voice of the speaker, the media in which the song comes to us across the centuries all have their own materiality, their Earthiness. To this extent, the song, like every human text, speaks in a more than human Earth voice. Second, the voice of the Earth can be retrieved through bringing to the fore the relationship between riches, poverty, a sustaining Earth, the dependence of imperial structures on land, the link between debt and loss of land. If these are protest songs, for example, is Earth part of the protest? Third, the promise to the ancestors recalls not only the promise of offspring (because of the context of the infancy narratives) but the promise of land, invoking the Hebrew Bible interrelationship between land, social justice, Torah, and God. How does the Earth speak in and through the promise? The paper offers two examples of the use of creative imagination in evoking the voice of Earth: the first suggests what it might mean for a human as an Earth creature to magnify; the second suggests what Earth might say in protest at human poverty. The overall intent of the paper is to situate creatively the human question of poverty as an Earth question.

2 Cor 7:5-16 is shot through with a set of paraenetic concepts such as parakl?sis, chara, lyp?, kauch?sis, shame and more. It also contains extensive lists describing the Corinthians’ reactions to Paul and his emissary, Titus: epipoth?sis, odyrmos, z?los (7:7), spoud?, apologia, aganakt?sis, phobos, epipoth?sis, z?los, ekdik?sis (7:11). The paper aims to develop all paraenetic concepts in the passage and show how they go together in a single node that gives a quite specific role to Paul and the Corinthians, respectively, within the ancient logic of paraenesis. The claim is not that Paul is ‘doing’ paraenesis in the passage. He is not (directly, at least), which may be one reason why the concept of paraenesis has not hitherto been brought squarely into the analysis of the passage. Instead, it is argued that Paul is telling a story about and reflecting conceptually on his own relationship with the Corinthians within the very conceptuality of ancient paraenesis. It is further suggested that Paul extends the node of paraenetic concepts between himself and the Corinthians by bringing in two more figures: God and Titus, thus at least creating a ‘triad’ of paraenetic relationships instead of the usual ‘dyad’. As part of the analysis, the paper will constantly relate Paul’s presentation in 7:5-16 of the paraenetic relationship between himself and the Corinthians, in particular, to three earlier, crucial passages in the canonical letter: 6:11-7:4, 2:1-13 and 1:3-11. In this way it will be argued that 2 Corinthians 1-7 (if nothing more) constitutes a single unit.

In the sacrificial instructions in Leviticus the notion of food and eating plays a core role. Different parties have a share in the sacrificial meal: God, Aaron sons and daughters and the person who is offering as well. In several chapters (Lev 6; Lev 10 and 22) a differentiation between the female and the male offspring of the Aaronite family is made. Does the share in the meal display a specific theological understanding of sacrifice and a specific social role? And in which sense is the sacrifice food (for God)? This paper aims at investigating the very notion of eating/food in the conception of the sacrifice and the role gender plays in it.

In this paper, I will demonstrate that literary theory is not just a tool for synchronic studies of biblical literature but is essential if we are to understand its transmission history and its rootedness in ancient culture. German reception theory (particularly the work of Wolfgang Iser) and New Historicism will be used to examine the transmission history of the manna-quail episode in Numbers 11 and its place in the transmission history of the wilderness narrative more broadly, as well as the methodological question of how we determine what does and does not constitute a fracture in the narrative that points to diachronic development. Against the usual view that the leadership and meat themes are tradition-historically distinct, I will show that the complaint motif is used to set up and develop a scenario which explores the themes of rejecting Yahweh and Moses’s role in shared versus heirarchical leadership. The paper will also revisit the intertextual relationships between Numbers 11 and the first manna-quail episode in Exodus 16, the texts related to the elders and Israelite bureaucratic structure in Exodus 18 and 24, and Moses’ role as intercessor in Exodus 32-34, exploring how elements of each is re-used and altered in Numbers 11 in order to construct the episode. We will then be able to consider how the episode sheds light on the ideology and literary goals of one particular stage in the composition history of the wilderness narrative.

Skopostheorie’s focus on function makes it potentially realistic, measurable, and transparent. To realize that potential not only can the brief be critiqued for its principles and methodology, but post publication the translation itself can be measured for its adequacy to the instructions laid out in its translation brief in two ways. First, the translation decisions in the new text can be compared with the instructions in the brief. Second, the actual function of the new translation in the host community is to be evaluated to see how realistically the translation initiators anticipated the actual usage of the translation in the host context. The paper attempts to measure the adequacy of the Lik??nl New Testament text to its intentions in order to set the stage for measuring the actual function among the Bik??m host community. It describes a measurement tool and its implementation. Translators reflected on the decisions they made in implementing the skopos (purpose) at the translation desk and throughout the translation process. Translators and certain observers critiqued the translation decisions in selected portions of the new translation according to the principles laid out in the brief, that is, the three skopoi, and the description of the selection and presentation of text signs. The analysis describes the author’s perceived successes and failures in the process of implementing skopostheorie as well as his cautious judgments regarding the translation’s adequacy based on the research. It also sets the stage for measuring the actual function of the translation in the Bik??m host community. It concludes with a reflection on the ethics of transparency in the skopostheorie framework.

Death is a central theme in Qoheleth. Many consider this portion of Qoheleth to be the most difficult of the book, especially ch.12:1-8 and particularly the images in vv. 2-6.This section has been understood in 3 ways: literal, allegorical, and eschatological. The picture is indeed very complicated. The structure is clear, especially the relation of chp. 12 to 11: 7 ff. but the images in vv. 2-6 are most elusive. Although death clearly comes to the foreground in 12:7, there is still wide ranging opinion on the real substance of vv. 2-6. This paper argues that the eschatological approach to the discourse on death in Qoheleth 12:1-8 has the most explanatory power for understanding the metaphors conveyed in this passage. The methodological approach of this paper combines a Relevance theory (RT) approach to metaphor with Hallidayan concepts of genre/register, by means of a model developed by Fairclough. RT has contributed significantly to metaphor identification and analysis. Nevertheless, it has been criticized in the following areas: further need for social-cultural dimension of utterances and genre identification, which allows one to determine the processing effort which in turn indexes processing time for metaphor analysis. Qoheleth seems to have been influenced by a wide-ranging awareness of external socio-cultural knowledge. The historical setting and possible influences on Qoheleth are debated. Qoheleth was probably indebted to Hellenistic influences as well as more longstanding traditions from Mesopotamia, Egypt and Ugarit, and especially Israel’s own wisdom heritage. For example, in the Mesopotamian theology of death, there were two distinct kinds of death: violent, sudden death and death associated with growing old and moving towards the end of one’s days. In the span of a few verses in the immediate context (11:7-12:8), Qoheleth seems to have conflated both of these concepts about death with an artful, and rich metaphorical integration describing the death of an individual mixed with sudden cosmological overtones. Other influences are discussed as well in this paper. Qoheleth 12:1-8 serves as an example of metaphor analysis for relating two theories: RT and Hallidayan concepts of genre/register.

New Testament scholarship has increasingly recognized the value of studying ancient texts as physical artifacts. One of the most widely discussed features of early Christian manuscripts is their distinctive use of nomina sacra. Recent work has tended to focus on the four earliest examples of this phenomenon - Jesus, Christ, Lord, and God - with comparatively little attention devoted to the term “spirit” (pneuma), even though it is also attested as a nomen sacrum in some of our earliest manuscripts. This paper seeks to extend the conversation by examining how pneuma is written in NT Papyrus 46 (P. Chester Beatty II / P. Mich. Inv. 6238). Close analysis of every reference to pneuma in P46 reveals considerable irregularity, both in form and meaning. Against expectations, at several points pneuma is written out in full to signify the divine Spirit, and in numerous places nomen sacrum forms of pneuma clearly reference something other than the divine Spirit. This discovery destabilizes the assumption that we can access the scribe’s interpretive decisions about the meaning of pneuma merely by identifying where nomina sacra do and do not occur. It also bears implications for how we might conceptualize the activity, function, and sociological context of early Christian scribes and readers. Moreover, since scribal practices are inextricably linked to larger socio-cultural realities, the idiosyncratic treatment of pneuma in P46 illustrates a wider ambiguity in early Christian communities about the person and work of the Holy Spirit.

For centuries before and after Paul, Jewish sages taught that almsgiving was one of the supreme acts of fidelity to God (e.g., Ben Sira; the author of Tobit; the rabbis). Many scholars have argued that Paul, in contrast, had little concern for charitable giving. Some have pointed to passages such as Gal 2:10 and 6:10 to argue that Paul did teach his churches to see to the material needs of others, but these arguments have not found wide acceptance because of the ambiguity and paucity of the evidence. This paper uses previously underappreciated evidence to demonstrate that Paul held to a traditional Jewish theology of charitable giving. Texts as diverse as Proverbs, Sirach, Tobit, and the Tosefta (among many others) claim that God is the unseen recipient of gifts given to those in need. The common features of this view of almsgiving are as follows: (A) Alms are a gift for (or sacrifice to) God; (B) God will repay the giver; (C) divine repayment frequently takes the form of heavenly treasure which yields dividends in the present and saves one from death in the future. Pauline scholarship has focused on Gentile customs of patronage and benefaction (e.g., Seneca’s De beneficiis), and has largely ignored the fact that Paul’s discussions of care for the poor follow the traditional Jewish pattern. This can be seen most clearly in Phil 4:10-20; 2 Cor 8-9; and 1 Tim 6:6-19. In Phil 4, Paul claims that the Philippians’ gifts to him fund an account that bears interest (v.17). It is not Paul who holds this account, but God, who looks on the gifts as sacrifices (v.18), and who will repay the Philippians (v.19). In 2 Cor 8-9 Paul explains that gifts for the saints are gifts to God (9:11-12), uses sacrificial language to describe the gifts, and explains that God will repay these gifts (9:6-10). 1 Timothy 6:6-19 shows that those who wished to speak in the voice of Paul did so by repeating the traditional Jewish schema (see esp. v.17-19; cf. Tob 4:9-11). This paper will conclude that careful analysis of these texts shows that Paul believed and taught a theology of almsgiving which echoed sages like Ben Sira and anticipated the rabbis.

The 'African Presence in the Bible' approach has had an enthusiastic reception in Afrocentric bible-reading communities. This approach proceeds by identifying and elaborating on certain biblical persons, places and values as African and teasing out their ethical and spiritual symbolism for people of African descent. The narrative presupposition of this approach is that, by and large, the geographical and cultural location of biblical narrative as well as the generality of actors in the narrative are not African, hence the focus on specific identifiable individuals. This paper argues that the 'African Presence in the Bible' approach, though useful, is nevertheless an understatement. Showing that the world of the Bible is essentially African, the paper argues for a bolder approach to biblical Afrocentrism based on systematic-historical and not random-symbolic appropriation of biblical narratives. In particular, the paper appeals to Afrocentric biblical scholars not to ignore or underrate the historical dimension of biblical exegesis, since the ideals of biblical Afrocentrism (putting Africa and Africans in the center) are best served by privileging history in the task of biblical interpretation.

At first blush, the attitudes toward physical difference in Exodus 4:10-17 and Leviticus 21:16-24 seem to differ from each other. In Exodus 4, God suggests humans who have physical differences are permitted to serve God. In Leviticus 21, however, God commands that priests who have physical blemishes be barred from serving at the altar. Drawing on theories of sovereignty (e.g. Schmitt, Foucault, and Butler), I read these two passages together to show that representations of physical difference are closely related to the claim to and exertion of sovereign power. The ambiguity in the attitudes toward physical difference discloses God’s sovereignty over the Children of Israel. In Leviticus 21, God dictates the norm to exclude priests with blemishes. God’s response to Moses’ speech impairment in Exodus 4 does not eliminate the ordinary exclusion of those deemed physically different from the service of God. Rather, by suspending the rule during the emergency situation (that is, the situation of the Hebrews in Egypt), God exerts divine sovereignty to decide the exception. In both cases, God’s sovereignty depends on deciding if physical differences result in a person being disqualified from serving a particular role for God or not.

Our earliest description of the Church of the Holy Apostles is an ekphrasis in Eusebius’ Vita Constantini (ca. 337–339 C.E.). Like the rest of the Vita, the ekphrasis on the church constructs Constantine as the exemplar of Christian virtue, generosity, and piety, but it also wrestles with what it means for an emperor, an individual traditionally treated as a god by the Roman state, to be interred within a structure expressly identified as Christian cult site. In this paper, I argue that Eusebius’ ekphrasis (Vit. Const. 4.58–60) dictates how his audience ought to experience Constantine’s shrine as a religious site and asserts the legitimacy of Christianity in the highly competitive landscape of Constantinople, which was still negotiating its ties to both traditional forms of cult and various factions of Christians. I first examine how Eusebius works within a pervasive system of rhetorical theory, in which ekphrasis is one of the rhetor’s most powerful tools to influence the perception of his audience. In particular, I consider the ways in which Eusebius’ ekphrasis on the shrine utilizes the tropes established by this tradition to impress a particular interpretation of the building upon his audience in order to assert the legitimacy of Christianity in the landscape of Constantinople. I conclude that Eusebius is not simply describing a building; rather, he relies on his audience’s prior experiences of religious and imperial architecture to dictate how they ought to engage with the Church of the Holy Apostles and understand the presence of the deceased emperor’s sarcophagus within. By subtly subverting the use of the building as an imperial mausoleum, Eusebius reorganizes the experience of the site on his own Christian terms, just as he uses Constantine to authorize “orthodoxy” throughout the rest of the Vita.

Alongside the attention paid in recent decades to the present and aorist aspects in ancient Greek, the perfect tense forms have been relatively neglected. But serious questions are increasingly being raised about the adequacy of the consensus view of the perfect found in traditional grammars (“expressing an action done with existing results”), and alternative descriptions have been offered. This paper will evaluate several alternatives and reassess the traditional view in light of the questions raised.

Modern scholarship has approached the question of Pharisees and the prehistory of Rabbinic Judaism from a number of different angles. Were the Pharisees a proto-Rabbinic group? What is the relationship between the Second Temple Pharisees and the post-destruction Rabbinic community? One thing that has been sorely lacking in researching these questions has been a text that derives from, or is at least representative of, the Pharisees. In this paper, I will propose the possibility that the Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum (L.A.B.), better known as Pseudo-Philo, may have originated in a post-Pharisaic or pre-Rabbinic community (the work seems to have been put together shortly after the destruction of the Temple). A number of passages and traditions in L.A.B. have strong resonance with later Rabbinic texts. Some examples are: the tradition that Moses broke the tablets on the 17th of Tammuz, the belief in resurrection, and the tradition that the well of water, the pillar of cloud and the manna were stopped upon the deaths of Miriam, Aaron and Moses respectively. The paper will explore this possibility, focusing primarily on midrashic or historiographic traditions. Although L.A.B. makes no reference to Jewish sects, nor does it attempt to position itself vis-à-vis any heretical groups, nevertheless, in my estimation a strong case can be made for seeing it as a proto-Rabbinic text, one that stands at a halfway point between Pharisaism and Judaism. In that sense, L.A.B. can be a valuable tool for understanding proto-rabbinic Judaism during this intermediate stage.

As part of their engagement with African scholarship, certain Western scholars have asked whether there is such a thing as African Scholarship. The aim of this paper is to explore the role of African Biblical Hermeneutics in a discourse controlled and dominated by Western scholarship. This will be done in the following three stages. The paper starts off by exploring some theories on what constitutes African Biblical Hermeneutics. Here we will focus on the definition of African Biblical Hermeneutics. Secondly, we would discuss who is an African and who should engage in the African Biblical Hermeneutics discourse. Second, the paper traces developments in Biblical interpretation in Africa. This section will survey current trends in the history of reading the Bible in Africa, highlighting both similarities and differences in these methodological approaches, before providing a critique of these trends. And, finally, the paper spells out what the role of African Biblical Hermeneutics should be in addressing challenges facing the African continent, in the current context where Western hermeneutics still dominates the discourse.

Western readers tend to assume a morally sinister connotation when they encounter the Hebrew lexeme evil (ra‘, ra‘ah, r'‘ ) in the biblical text. Yet, this root is translated with at least twenty words in the English and eight different lexemes in the Septuagint of Genesis alone. Are the translators correct in nuancing the Hebrew so broadly, and does this range impact our understanding of evil? Recognizing the importance of context to the meaning and use of a word, an inductive study was conducted to map every occurrence of this through the Hebrew text of Genesis. Paradigmatic and syntagmatic collocations were analyzed from the immediate clause level, to near contextual occurrences of the lexeme, and traced through widening circles of interlinking linguistic and literary units in narrative and direct discourse. The most frequent paradigmatic collocation is, not surprisingly, good. The most frequent syntagmatic collocations center upon words related to internal and external senses, such as to know, to eat, food, with the most frequent collocations pertaining to the word grouping related to sight. Evil was found to be a hypernym with a broad semantic range referring to anything bad: from lacking, deficient, and displeasing; to harmful, sinful and wicked. A taxonomy of evil was developed for comparative and contrasting domains of meaning. This lexeme contributes to the literary framework of the plot conflict between good and evil. Application of cognitive linguistics provides additional insights contributing to the concept and theology of evil that weave throughout the structure of Genesis.

This paper will explore the possibilities in the ways in which biblical methods, specifically the intersection of historical, literary and postmodern interpretation help to stabilize readings even as they work together to simultaneously allow for the opportunity of instability. Jeremiah’s lament in 15:10-21 offers a rich place to explore historical context and literary analysis as an imaginative locating place for meaning making. A concurrent postmodern reading of Jeremiah’s lament, with its focus upon decentering the place of the reader, can challenge imbedded assumptions inherent in the ways in which these more contextual methods may seek to stabilize or fix meaning. Jeremiah’s lament mirrors the kinds of opportunity in the utilization of these three methods or lens. Examining this text while keying into its abounding historical background, the reader is quickly confronted with the awareness that we work in realms of unintelligibility in relation to the ways in which the context of our present location bumps up against that of the past. This passage is also wrought with textual difficulties and incongruities. This paper will be attentive to these textual issues (as well as the discontinuity of the placing of this lament within the larger setting of the book) but these issues will remain of tertiary interest. With a focus upon these three methods of interpretation, I would like to try to hold apparent incongruities of the text together, rather than trying to separate them or remove the ways the text is in tension with itself. This also mirrors the assertions of this paper, which seeks to productively hold these types of tensions. We are, in addition, confronted with a world of variability when we read the literary content of Jeremiah’s lament. It is full of relational volatilities in the text between the deity, the prophet and the people that escape the capacity to be fixed or stable. This way of reading the text that simultaneously looks forward to the possibilities of reading both stabilities and instabilities in the text has a better chance not to undermine the reading of Jeremiah’s lament, where unpredictable movements abound.

This paper takes the position that the story of Nimrod is part of a supplement to the primeval J cycle for the purpose of extolling the Davidic dynasty and the Solomonic temple. Nimrod was neither an historical figure nor mythical person nor folktale fragment but the creation by conscious will by an author who sought to deliver this message on behalf of the dynasty and the temple. The paper will analyze Nimrod geographically, chronologically, genealogically, and by his attributes and will suggest other verses which were created by this author as part of this effort. It will be suggested that in particular through the use of proper nouns, this supplement intended to reorient the thinking of its audience from a wilderness-covenant origin to a temple-king identity.

This paper explores questions of the unity of the Megilloth, specifically by addressing issues of covenant and its appearance or non-appearance several of the scrolls - Esther, Ruth, and Song of Songs.

TBA

Various sources in the Hebrew Bible mention the use in ancient Israel of spices that could only have arrived from South Asia, such as cinnamon (Hebrew qinman/qinnamon). This raises questions regarding the beginnings and early (pre-classical) days of long-distance trade with the Far East. In this paper we present the results of residue analyses performed on several small clay flasks that were common in the 11th–10th centuries BCE in Phoenicia, other Levantine regions and Cyprus. Their shape, decoration and distribution suggest that they contained some precious liquid and that they were part of an extensive commercial trade network. The analysis indicates that the flasks inter alia contained cinnamaldehyde – a major component of cinnamon. These results are the first analytical indications for the existence of sustainable trade networks between the Near East and the Far East in the early Iron Age, about half a millennium earlier than previously assumed.

According to the Qur’an, God created the world in six days (Q.7:54; 10:3; 11:7, etc.), but nowhere does it suggest that God “rested” on the seventh day. In fact, God exclaims in Q.5:38, “We most certainly created the heavens and the earth and what is between them in six days, but weariness did not touch Us.” Nevertheless, in the Qur’an God raised the Mountain (=Sinai) over the Israelites and established with them a covenant with the words, “Do not transgress the Sabbath” (la ta`du fil-sabt) (Q.4:154). The Israelites (or Jews: al-ladhina hadu), however, failed to observe this requirement and are depicted repeatedly as breaking the law of Sabbath observance (Q.2:65, 4:47, and 7:163). Those who transgressed are transformed into “despised apes” (Q.2:65, 7:166; and perhaps also 5:60). Yet despite parallels with other biblical commandments whose rationale is not self-evident such as the prohibition against consuming swine, neither the Qu’ran nor the post-qur’anic Tradition literature requires Sabbath restrictions. And this, notwithstanding the fact that the Arabic sabata, like the Hebrew shabat, means “to rest” or “keep the Sabbath,” and the fact that the Arabic term for Saturday is yawm al-sabt – the “Sabbath Day” or “Day of Rest.” This presentation will parse out the seemingly contradictory Islamic perspectives regarding Sabbath observance and violation in reference to Jews and Muslims in order to suggest an explanation for the apparent inconsistency.

Written after the fall of the Second Temple as a means of explanation for that calamity, the story of Third Baruch is set in the aftermath of the destruction of Solomon’s temple. Yet, the narrator of the piece, Baruch the pious scribe, is not bound to his time and place in the ruins of Jerusalem; instead, Baruch receives visions of the mythic past and the glorious future, thereby learning the full extent of God’s plan for the creation of a new and perfect heavenly world. The righteous, such as Baruch, will become star like creatures and behold this world now invisible in that time now hidden to all but Baruch, who only sees bits of the place in angelic revelations. This future world is a recreation of the paradise in which Adam and Eve once dwelt, an opening of the now closed heavenly realm, and a world nearly inconceivable in its possibilities for Baruch and his contemporaries (and by extension, the pseudepigraphic author and his/her contemporaries). This paper uses spatial theory informed by the works of Gaston Bachelard, Henri Lefebvre, and, in particular, Edward Soja to explore Baruch’s and his angelic interlocutors’ many maps of the heavens and paradises in order to gain a clearer image of this past-present-future realm of the righteous, the angels, and the almighty God. This paper argues that the temporal impossibilities of this once and future place work in tandem with the place’s spatial complexities to demonstrate the unconquerable nature of the God of Israel, even when lacking an earthly temple in which to dwell. While the Romans may have destroyed the Second Temple, Third Baruch assures its readers that this act does not signal the defeat of their God. Rather than invoke a simple temporal comparison of the first Temple narrative with the current narrative, the author of Third Baruch plays with temporal and spatial dimensions, creating a world that Edward Soja would call a Thirdspace, a counter-space to the hegemonic discourse of Roman imperial time and place. This counter-space was before the Romans, exists outside of their world, and will welcome the righteous in a glorious future.

Of all the items of material culture that are associated with the Temple, the Ark has perhaps the longest and most intriguing biography. The Ark is constructed twice in the Hebrew Bible, once in the Book of Deuteronomy (10) and once in the Priestly stratum of Exodus (25 and 37). Both accounts date the Ark’s construction to the wilderness period, but offer dramatically different visions of its origins, physical characteristics, and importantly, different accounts of its significance. These diverging ways of understanding the Ark correlate with the authors’ ways of understanding the world, in dynamic relation to changing social, political, and ideological conditions, before and after the destruction of the First Temple. The account of the construction of the Ark in Deuteronomy was written before its loss and the Priestly account was written afterwards, constraining Deuteronomy and allowing a measure of freedom for the Priestly writer. Employing contrasting narratives of the Ark as a case study, this paper explores the ways in which items of material culture like the Ark have influenced the formation of cultural memories in both their presence and their absence. The paper explores the ways in which the Deuteronomic and Priestly writers construct contrasting visions of the past, present, and future in narratives about the construction of the Ark, creating the symbolic and mnemonic values of the Ark which are as much a part of it as its physical presence. What does the Ark bring to these constructions of the past, and is its utility affected by its loss? This paper considers what it is about the physicality of the Ark—its reality—that helps to communicate and, perhaps, prove, the writers’ ideas more effectively than other vehicles for creating and conveying collective memories.

The author of Q invented the gospel genre--a narrative account of the ministry of Jesus that raises two questions: Who is Jesus? and What does it mean to be Jesus' disciple? As a narrative Q has an identifiable plot which begins with John's Preaching and includes the entire ministry of Jesus up to the crucifixion. What happens then? In Q does God respond to the cross by raising Jesus as we find in Paul and the rest of the New Testament, or does Q presume that Jesus' vindication took the form of an assumption as some scholars have suggested? This paper will argue from the text of Q, the narrative structure of Q, and the theological structure of Q that the plot of Q leads from the cross to the resurrection.

The relationship between David and Jonathan as portrayed in the books of Samuel has received considerable scholarly attention in recent years. The details and vocabulary used to describe the interactions between David and Jonathan have led some scholars to view their relationship as erotic or even sexual in nature. On the other side, however, are those who understand the association between David in Jonathan in terms of ancient Near Eastern covenant language and interpret the connection between David and Jonathan primarily as a political alliance. Proponents of the latter view have relied significantly upon a 1963 article by William Moran in which he argues that the term “love” has a specialized political connotation within biblical and ancient Near Eastern covenant relationships. Following Moran’s argument, this paper will show that the Hebrew verbs, ?ape?, “delight” and na‘am, “pleasant,” also have political nuances indicating favor or partiality within an existing covenant relationship. In particular, both terms can indicate political favor either toward or from the royal sovereign. Supporting evidence for understanding ?ape? and na‘am as “favor” will be drawn from biblical as well as Assyrian and Ugaritic texts. A political understanding of ?ape? and na‘am has significant bearing on the interpretation of the relationship between David and Jonathan. An politicized understanding of these terms as “favor” supports a view of David and Jonathan as members of a covenant relationship at Saul’s court rather than an eroticized friendship. It is within this political affiliation that Jonathan shows favoritism toward David, and this partiality saves David’s life on more than one occasion after he has lost the favor of King Saul.

This paper explores the relationship between socio-cultural practices and Roman economies. Utilizing the recent work of classicists such as Clifford Ando, David Mattingly, and Henrik Mouritsen, along with recent demographic research on migration and urban life, the inquiry raises questions about the nature of slaves and freedpersons, and their participation in the Empire’s urban economies. More particularly, it investigates the discrepant experiences and socio-economic strategies of the ‘lower classes’–slaves, freedmen, and freedwomen–in Roman imperial contexts and administrative rubrics. Moreover, by applying this broader economic discussion to specific Pauline locales such as Corinth and Ephesus, the paper revisits the so-called “New Consensus” concerning the socio-economic levels, social statuses, and demographic makeup of early Christian groups. The analysis argues for a fresh understanding of the economic capacity of slaves and freedpersons in Paul’s communities. Specific topics the paper addresses include the diverse nature and experience of slavery, the incentives and disincentives for manumission, the economic position of slaves and freedpersons, and their involvement in Paul’s missionary activity.

The idea of the incarnation—how the divine could become embodied—appears to be a distinctly Christian phenomenon, and scholarship on the origins of the incarnation has traditionally been confined to narrow debates regarding when and how the idea developed in Christianity. However, the Jewish philosopher Philo of Alexandria poses a notion similar to the incarnation in his discussion of the human soul in De Opificio Mundi 135. While Philo portrays the body as corporeal, earthly, and created, in his interpretation of the creation of man in Genesis 2, he presents the soul as proceeding directly from God—as a begotten or uncreated thing—imparted into the human mind via a direct in breathing by God. Elsewhere he even goes on to describe man's intellect as but a fragment or ray of the divine reason. Accordingly, for Philo the human soul, much like the incarnate Jesus of Christianity, becomes immanent in the created world in order to play a significant soteriological role as the instrument or agent by which humanity, via a mystical ascent, can be saved from this world to partake in the divine one instead. In this paper I will examine Philo’s version of "divine embodiment," comparing it in particular to the Gospel of John's version of Jesus as God incarnate. I will argue that scholarship on incarnation has been limited by an acceptance of the particular teleological end in Christian theology, and propose a new reading that demonstrates how the incarnational formula of John 1:14 is just one of the wide variety of ways that Second Temple Jews, of which the early Jesus followers were just one part, were articulating how they understood the divine to be embodied.

This paper presents a reading of Victor Avigdor Hurowitz's commentary on Proverbs (2 vol. Mikra Leyisrael; Am Oved: Tel Aviv 2012) as a window to his cultural personality and scholarly identity. The unique combination of expertise in Semitic philology and Mesopotamian literature on the one hand, along with fluency in the traditional Jewish commentaries on the other hand, is what makes Hurowitz's commentary so creative and original.

This paper assesses the way memory studies are employed in the areas of cultural history and psychological research – the areas in which the approach was chiefly developed. It will be suggested that memory studies may assist in understanding some general aspects concerning the transmission of gospel traditions. However, it will be argued that either personal or social memory cannot be applied to the task of historical Jesus research, as that task has traditionally been understood. It will be suggested that a ‘category error’ is being committed, since the primary evidence that historical Jesus scholars work with is that of heavily redacted texts, not statements gleaned directly from memory. The paper will then briefly look at three types of tradition. First, the triple tradition of the mockery of Jesus (Mk 15.29-31//Matt 27.39-44//Lk 23.35-37); second, the double tradition parable of the wedding banquet (Matt 22.2-10//Lk 14.16-24); and third, the single tradition of the payment of the Temple Tax (Matt 17.24-27). In relation to each of these three traditions the discussion will briefly assess the merits of using either memory studies, or more traditional methods for answering the question of the relationship between the historical Jesus and each of these traditions that are attached to the Jesus of the gospels.

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It was Martin Noth who suggested that in its original form, the non-priestly story of the first of the plagues of Egypt did not speak of the turning of the Nile into blood. Rather, it related how the striking of the Nile brought about the death of the fish, and this, in turn, caused the water to become foul and undrinkable. Only later was this story supplemented with the motif of the conversion of water to blood. Noth posited that this change in the non-priestly story took place under the influence of the parallel, priestly version of the story, which adopted this motif from Exodus 4:9. While I concur with Noth’s basic thesis concerning the evolution of the first non-priestly plague story, I find his explanation for it wanting. I suggest that the addition of the motif of the water turning into blood reflects a phenomenon that I would call “mythic amplification,” that is, the tendency to intensify the mythic character of stories that already contain certain mythic resonances. The original non-priestly story related, in mythic language, how the Lord Himself struck the Nile (Exodus 7:25). For the supplementor, this depiction indicated that that the ultimate divine purpose in striking the Nile was not merely to prevent the Egyptians from having drinkable water, to make the Nile, thought of as an Egyptian “Judge River,” to bleed to death. Other examples of “mythic amplification” can be identified. This understanding of the process standing behind the non-priestly story allows us to appreciate certain elements of the priestly version of the plague (e.g., the waving of the staff instead of the striking; the failure to mention the Nile) as reflecting the opposite tendency – the concern to remove or contain the mythological resonances within the tradition.

There are demonic spaces, and there are spaces to preserve from demons: chiefly, the home and its capacity to symbolize marital harmony, procreative fecundity, and the safety of progeny. Among the most interesting apotropaic devices in antiquity for the protection of the home from demonic attack is the so-called incantation bowl of late antique Mesopotamia. A tradition crossing Jewish, Christian and Mandaean homes, the device involved a simple bowl whose interior is inscribed with formulaic adjurations against spirits named and unnamed, along with a crude image of the demon at the bottom. It is generally understood that the bowls were placed upside-down in specific rooms of the house, such that the adjurations faced downwards. The bowl became a kind of trap for demons, like the Roach Motel®: a space of demonic demise. But this apotropaic bowl tradition was quite unusual among domestic apotropaic devices in the Roman Mediterranean and Near Eastern worlds, for it did not radiate its efficacious symbols outward (like the Medusa head or Suffering Eye) but, rather, inwards and downwards. How did this unusual device evolve? This paper proposes a source in a domestic practice, customary in Roman Palestine, of using a bowl to cover a scorpion to protect children. The paper will also address theoretical issues in the migration and selection of such magical traditions, such that the incantion bowls would flourish in Mesopotamia (and ultimately appear in Egypt) but not in Palestine.

The Jezreel Expedition launched its inaugural excavation season in May/June 2013. The main focus of excavation was on the northern edge of a large level terrace that overlooks the Spring of Jezreel. This area had been surveyed by the regional archaeologist Nehemiah Zori as early as the 1940s but it was not excavated until now. There is no record of any historical settlement having been situated there and despite intense farming in the immediate vicinity this area has been left uncultivated (masha land). Yet our airborne LiDAR (laser) scan revealed walls and evidence of substantial buildings. The pottery mainly dates from the Neolithic through to the Iron Age. The preliminary results from this tantalizing area will be presented.

In an oracle of judgment addressed to “virgin daughter Babylon,” Isaiah 47 employs images of her humiliation, rape, and isolation, as well as the killing of her spouse and children, to describe the vengeance that YHWH will enact upon her. As a basis for this judgment, the passage interprets Babylon’s treatment of Judah in the sixth century, B.C.E. as merciless and as a failure to acknowledge her status as subordinate to that of YHWH. The paper follows U. Berges in dating Isaiah 47 after the return of the exiles (c. 539–521 B.C.E.). Drawing from psychological research on trauma and from the study of forced migrations, the paper argues that for the Judeans of the late sixth century to depict YHWH as engaging in this violent activity against Babylon had a symbolic function capable of fostering recovery from certain traumatic effects of the destruction of Jerusalem and of the exile in Babylon. The paper considers the intergenerational effects of communal trauma and recovery from these in light of the way in which a safe, symbolic expression of the intense anger that results from being traumatized can enhance reinterpretation of traumatic experiences. In particular, it draws on psychological theory that the injured moral compass and eroded sense of dignity experienced by victims of traumatic violence are deeply linked to the memory of the perpetrator. Distinct from revenge fantasy, the symbolic destruction of the perpetrator can serve as a dramatic way of affirming that the violation was wrong. Here, that this destruction is enacted by YHWH, who was understood to have orchestrated the violation in the first place, enhances the capacity of the imagery to be perceived as a reversal of prior meaning.

According to Julius Wellhausen’s Prolegomena zur Geschichte Israels, Chronicles is a monolithically ideological text written by Second Temple scribes to buttress priestly authority. In Chronicles, David is the founder of the Temple cult, and Wellhausen pointed to the book’s idealization of David as the prime example of Chronicles’ fabrication of history. Wellhausen thus distinguished between authentic biblical tradition and the account of Chronicles. Today, Wellhausen’s paradigm continues to reign, both in the academy and communities of faith. However much interpreters disagree on the theme of the book, virtually all accept Wellhausen’s premise that whoever wrote Chronicles had a free hand and a uniform agenda in retelling the story of Israel. For these latter-day Wellhausians, the Chronicler is incapable of being at odds with himself. The result is an exegetical Procrustean bed in which everything in the text must conform to the intention of a single author or scribal school. Wellhausen’s influence is most evident in the belabored effort to harmonize problematic passages in Chronicles that cast David in a negative light, notably: the tracing of David’s genealogy to Judah and Tamar; Michal’s contempt for him; and David’s self-designation as a bloodshedder. This paper offers an alternative interpretive framework for dealing with these verses. The textual evidence indicates that the author of Chronicles chooses to preserve important counter-traditions that challenge the idealization of David. Though Chronicles presents a favorable picture of David generally, he is by no means completely exonerated. Chronicles does not—and cannot—cover up the whole story. When these three passages are allowed to stand as points of resistance in the book’s reshaping of history, they shed important light on the Chronicler as a tradent. Contrary to prevailing opinion, Chronicles is no less true to tradition than many other biblical books, and does not exclusively promote a single agenda.

In the Septuagint Minor Prophets, forward-pointing devices (such as alla, men, houtos, and tade) and connectives other than kai (such as e and plen) often appear even when the underlying Hebrew Vorlage lacks a corresponding lexical equivalent, forcing one to question why the translator used them. Even in cases when there is a lexical equivalent in the Hebrew, particularly with regard to houtos and tade, the translator frequently had options for translation. The use of these devices and connectives, especially when not lexically motivated translations, required of the translator an awareness of the wider context and the ability, at times, to decide what inferences between propositions in the Hebrew Vorlage were accessible and intended. Unfortunately, in the study of translation technique, these devices and connectives are often overlooked. Forward-pointing devices are prominence markers, in that they have the discourse-pragmatic function of pointing and alerting the reader to something significant in the discourse that follows, whether by correcting or replacing the preceding proposition (alla), pointing to something not yet introduced (houtos and tade), or anticipating a related sentence that follows (men). The connectives e and plen, which are closely related to these devices, are used to inform the reader of how the following proposition ought to be understood in relation to the preceding proposition. Given the discourse awareness that the use of these devices and connectives require, I propose that their occurrences in the Septuagint Minor Prophets, when corresponding to a lexical equivalent in the Hebrew text and when not, provide valuable data for the study of translation technique, giving insight into the translator's understanding of his Vorlage and evidence for a translator who did not always feel constrained to exactly represent the source text and was able to make interpretive decisions based on his awareness and comprehension of it.

Sabbath oil lamps, created with specially attached areas for removable reserves are the subject of discussion in Shabbat, chapter 2, Mishnah 4, and fully investigated by the Babylonian Talmud (BT) of tractate Shabbat 29b. The anonymous Mishnah states that person should not purposely pierce an egg-shell to create such an oil reserve (so the oil lamp lasts through the night) for use on the Sabbath and Rabbi Yehudah permits it and then the anonymous Mishnah continues with a more permitted innovation of a very specific “carriage” attached to the opening for the egg shell to sit in. Hence and Sabbath oil lamp that looks different than the regular week-day oil lamps. Archaeologists have found this type of Sabbath oil lamp as one of many new important ethnic markers for sites identified as Jewish. In the Mishnah of Shabbat, 6.2, it states: “A man may not go out [on the Sabbath] with a nail-studded sandal.” This Mishnah is historically followed by a series of later writings that attempt to assess the reasons for the prohibition against wearing nail-studded sandals on the Sabbath. The later Babylonian sages in the BT, the Midrash Rabbah, and the PT associate remembrances of rebellions and events past that caused the Sabbath regulation against nail studded sandals to be implemented. The first century Jewish historian, Josephus Flavius, alludes to the use of the nail-studded sandal in Jerusalem as does the second century Church Father, Origen. The Caliga(e), a thick (or potentially double-soled) sandal that was worn by Roman soldiers (the soles were held together by nails) was known to make a sound on the dry pavement and was slippery on wet pavement. Archaeologists have used comparisons between non-studded sandals and nail-studded sandals (apparently based upon the discovery of small nails in close context) in archaeological contexts at Masada, Qumran and in caves along the Dead Sea. The Jewish sandals are also clearly identifiable in the illustrations found at the 3rd century Dura Europos synagogue in modern day Syria and a comparison with Roman period mosaics and artifacts helps to give us a description of the type of sandals in use by Roman soldiers and Jews. This paper will compare and contrast literary and archaeological evidence to assess what and how archaeological “realia” should be used in the assessment of literary sources and how literary sources should be used in the interpretation of material culture.

Though more than 300 items are known in the southern Levant, the so called cuboid incense burners of the Persian period are often neglected in iconographic studies because of their crude and sketchy design. The iconography of those small chest-formed burners made of limestone and standing on four legs does not form a homogenous program and they do not fit the Persian period patterns compared to other genres as coins, terracotta objects, figurines, seals etc. As a “widespread cult object in Palestine in the Persian period” – as E. Stern (Material Culture, 182) puts it – the cuboid incense burners became important within the discussion of the Persian period, insofar as they are (implicitly) integrated in his argumentation of a “religious revolution”. By interpreting them as cult objects and ascribing them to a foreign – namely the Assyrian – cult, Stern connects them to a certain paganism which was prominent outside of Persian period Yehûd. Thus he parallels the distribution of finds with the lack of figurines in Yehûd and explains this phenomenon by assuming a purification which all pagan-popular elements had undergone during the Persian period (cf. Stern 2006). Against this background the paper will introduce the distribution of finds and will deal with the provenance and function of the cuboid incense burners in order to question Stern’s attribution to a “pagan cult” and to highlight their multifunctionality which includes also their non-cultic usage. A focal point will be set on their iconographic decoration. Due to the fact that the parallels from South-Arabia, Mesopotamia, and Cyprus mostly lack figurative design, and those designs can be considered a Palestinian peculiarity the iconographical repertoire of the cuboid incense burners will be systematized and evaluated in religio-historical respect.

A wealth of artifacts and inscriptions attributed to the Punic goddess Tanit, have been discovered around the Western Mediterranean and the Levant. The finds consist of varying types of stone markers found at the tophet and depicting specific iconographic imagery, these are supplemented by––among other finds––dedicatory inscriptions, ivories, jewelry, terracotta figurines and seals. Tanit’s function, and the practices attributed to her however have remained shrouded in a veil of mystery and infamy. It is the purpose of this paper to shed light on this issue with the assistance of the available iconographic and archaeological evidence, in conjunction with inscriptions. It is telling that the biblical passages speaking of the molech offering in the tophet are to be found in the very same passages which so vehemently rage against Ashera. So much of the iconography associated with Tanit, as well as the inscriptions point to the goddess as being one and the same as Ashera, even if later, Tanit obtains new attributes with the evolution of the colonies. The relationship between the two deities will address not only the Phoenician deity but will clarify her role and function in the Western Mediterranean as well as in the Levant.

From his reading of the Christian gospels, Celsus concludes that Jesus’ condemnation at the hands of the Romans and failure to avenge himself against them provide decisive evidence against his divinity. This view is particularly foregrounded in his comparison of Jesus’ trial and execution with the myth of Dionysus and Pentheus (Cels. 2.34-35). Whereas Dionysus had overcome the Theban tyrant’s resistance by absconding from prison and instigating Pentheus’ dismemberment at the hands of his own mother, Jesus by contrast achieved neither escape nor vindication. He, rather than his foe, suffered the bloody death. Celsus’ literary juxtaposition of the gospel narratives with this Greek myth highlights several important aspects of the Greco-Roman reception of the gospels in the second century. In Celsus’ religious and political reading, Jesus’ suffering undermines Christian claims to his divinity for two distinct yet interrelated reasons. First, as a Platonist, Celsus rejects the possibility of divine suffering; second, as an advocate of state religion, he sees Jesus’ failure to obtain imperial sanction as a demonstration of his lack of divine favor. Jesus’ death, therefore, is incompatible both with Celsus’ Platonic theology and with his conception of the interdependence of religion and empire. At the same time, Celsus’ comparative reading reveals several ambivalences and inconsistencies in his own attitude toward Greek mythology. First, conspicuously absent from the fragments of Celsus is the acknowledgment that Dionysus, according to the Orphic myth, suffered and died. Thus, Celsus excludes Dionysus’ role as victim, the very function that becomes central in Christian conceptions of Jesus. Second, he overlooks the inherently subversive aspect of Dionysus’ arrivals, both in his mythological manifestation at Thebes and at several important moments in Roman history. In response to the gospels, therefore, Celsus employs a selective reading of the Greek mythological tradition aimed at undercutting the claims of the Christian narrative.

For Greco-Roman authors writing both in and on the early Principate, caution was of upmost importance when dealing with contemporary political issues. This hesitance could even result in works being published posthumously (e.g. Pliny the Elder in his continuation of a contemporary account by Aufidius Bassus) or after the death of the princeps portrayed therein (e.g. the last twenty-two books of Livy’s Ab Urbe Condita Libri covering the reign of Augustus). But what of the literary treatment by these authors of the more fundamental questions of the power of the princeps and the legitimacy of the Principate itself? For insights into these matters we might feel inclined to focus solely on the occasional remarks by influential Greco-Roman authors writing in the Flavian and Nerva-Antonine dynastic periods, such as Plutarch, Suetonius and Tacitus – but for profound comments on the pervading characteristics of absolutism and monarchy, we might also look elsewhere, namely to Josephus’ rendition in ‘The Jewish Antiquities’ of the monarchic reigns of Saul, David and Solomon. Through an analysis of his rather subtle portrayals of these kings, this paper will demonstrate how Josephus is able to fuse his representation of this regal period with im- and explicit assessments of the essential nature of monarchy as well as the very notion of ‘regal power’. A survey of Josephus’ treatment of these matters in comparison with those of his contemporaries will facilitate new insights into the perceptions by these authors of the legitimacy and power of any princeps, whether it be a Roman emperor in the works of Plutarch, Suetonius, and Tacitus, or a Jewish king in Josephus’ Antiquities.

In his famous Leviathan, Thomas Hobbes argued that political state is necessary because without it humans are allegedly engaged in bellum omnium contra omnes that renders their life “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” The paper demonstrates that in what we know as the Book of Judges, especially in its concluding chapters, the Hebrew Bible makes a similar argument by narrative means and thus uses elements of what later became known as political contract theory to prepare and justify Israel’s transformation into a monarchy recounted in the Book of Samuel.

This paper will present an analysis of the readings of 4QXII C (4Q78) in comparison to the Masoretic Text. 4QXII C preserves sections of Hosea, Joel, Amos, and Zephaniah. Some of the readings are harmonizing in nature. This will be compared to similar tendencies in MT. The paper will build on and complement the paper of Armin Lange on 4QXII G which will present and discuss similar phenomena. The implications for the study of the redaction history of the text will be discussed.

The Iron IIB in the late 8th and early 7th centuries BCE is characterized by the expansion of the Assyrian empire into the southern Levant. Scholars are divided over the nature of Assyrian rule, including its impact on the local economies. Within the framework of the Ancient Israel project we have studied long-term aspects of the Iron Age economy, including patterns of animal husbandry, horticulture and pottery production. We noted that the Iron IIB is characterized by trends of specialization, standardization and regional uniformity. These patterns represent the impact of Assyrian economic interests on the region. We compared the situation in the "Assyrian Century" to an earlier period of imperial rule in the Levant – that of Late Bronze II-III Egypt. The results of our investigation show that Egypt's impact on the local economies was minimal compared to the globalization patterns of the Assyrian period.

This paper will be part of a JFSR-sponsored panel on Comparative Feminist Studies of Scriptures. The panel and discussion aim to explore the hermeneutical methods used to read canonical texts, especially those which promote exclusion of and violence against wo/men, to compare the feminist hermeneutical approaches of scholars from/of different religions in order to identify commonalities and divergences in feminist interpretations of canonical texts and to assess the impact of such feminist interpretations for religious communities.

Though the narrative of God’s circumcision and inheritance covenant with Abraham and his descendants in Genesis 17 is entirely Priestly, scholars have long identified “seams” in the text that point to multiple compositional strata: the chapter is redundant, verbal and pronominal forms are inconsistent, and the grammar is sometimes illogical. I show that the text of Gen 17 divides into two style categories: lines that contain an abundance of poetic features (such as parallelism, marked diction and phrasing, chiasmus, and rhythm), and sentences or clauses that do not. Differentiating between the Priestly poetry and prose and separating the two reveals a self-contained poetic stratum; the prose supplements the poetry and is not complete itself. None of the widely observed textual inconsistencies or problems occur within the poetry; instead, they are only found between the poetry and the prose. I argue that two authors stand behind the two strata, which I label PPoetry and PProse, and that these works extend throughout the entirety of the Priestly Source. The poetry and prose have different focuses and viewpoints in Gen 17, as God’s promise granting the land of Canaan to Abraham and his children only occurs in the poetry, and the deity’s promise to “be God to you” is limited to the prose. Many commentators have noted that Gen 17 takes its structure and some of its vocabulary from Non-P/Yahwistic narratives in Gen 15 and 18. However, comparing the three chapters strikingly reveals that all points of contact between Gen 15, 18 and Gen 17 occur only in its poetry.

One of the stumbling blocks in the theological dialogue between Christians and Muslims is the concept of Jesus as Begotten of God. The Quran repeatedly denies that God either begets or is begotten, using terms derived from the roots “yld” or “wld.” In the passages where the Quran denies that Jesus is begotten (wld) of God, instead it reaffirms that whatever God wills, He but says “be” and it “is.” The term “be” used in the Qur’an is the Arabic “kn.” In John 1:14, the term “egeneto” is used to describe the Word becoming flesh. In John 1:18, the term “monogenes” is used for only-begotten. John 3:16 and 1 John 4:9 use “monogene” for only-begotten. John 3:18 uses “monogenous” for only-begotten. Acts 13:33, Hebrews 1:5, and 5:5 use “gegenneka” for begotten. The relationship in the Greek term for begotten is that it is rooted in the term “genno,” which literally means to generate. The term to be or to become in Greek is rooted in “genetheto,” as it is also used by the Septuagint in Genesis 1:3. In John 1:3, the term “egeneto” is used to mean “came to be” and “gegonen” is used to mean “has become.” The terms to be, to become, to beget, and begotten in Greek all share the same root. It is possible to understand the Quran as saying that God says to Jesus, “be” (kn) and so he becomes (yakun), and is therefore, in fact begotten (takawwan) of God. Apparently, the Quran is trying to emphasize that Jesus is not begotten (wld) of God in terms of being physically born of God, which the term “wld” is usually understood to connote, but rather is begotten (takawwan) of God through the Word of Being, “be,” which is “kn.” If that is the case, then perhaps the Quran is not necessarily contradicting the New Testament, but elaborating on how to understand the concept of Jesus as Begotten of God. The Qur’an may be portraying Jesus as begotten through the Word of Being, “be,” which is the source of all that which is made, coinciding with John 1:3. If the Word in the Gospel of St. John is understood to be related to the word “be,” then this sheds light of what St. John meant by the Word. In Genesis 1:3, the term “be” in Hebrew is “yhy.” When Moses asks God whom it is that he should tell his people as the one who sent him, the answer was “Ehiyeh asher Ehiyeh,” meaning “I am that I am,” which is possibly the root term for Yahweh. Hence, when St. John says that the Word, in itself, was God, then it is possible to understand that the Word “yhy” was God, since God is identified as “Ehiyeh” or “Yahweh” rooted in the word “be.” Perhaps the Quran is trying to elaborate on the mystery of the Logos when emphasizing that Jesus is begotten (takawwan) through the word “be” and not through physical birth (wld).

The darkness over the earth that is present at the crucifixion in the Gospel of Mark seems to echo the darkness motif that appears in many of the Day of the LORD passages of the Old Testament (most prominently Amos 8:9). This allusion in itself has often been the basis for the exegetical significance of this otherwise enigmatic and passing comment. Such an interpretive decision is unwarranted on its own, however, given that the darkness motif epitomized in the prophetic literature has morphed considerably through its tradition history in Jewish pseudepigraphical literature by the time it is taken up and appropriated by the author of Mark. This paper seeks to explore the meaning of the mention of the darkness in Mark 15:33 by its echo of the developing tradition through the pseudepigraphical literature rather than a single text. Ultimately, I seek to answer key exegetical questions about the meaning of 15:33. Who or what causes the darkness that spreads over the earth “at the sixth hour” of Jesus’ crucifixion? Who or what does the darkness affect, or at least, what is its intended narrative purpose? And what does it symbolize to Mark’s audience? The answers arrived at when we read this verse against a specific OT text or texts is considerably different than when we also take into account the way in which this concept evolved along with other conceptualities associated with the DL tradition in Jewish pseudepigraphical literature, for the understanding of eschatology inherent in those texts is fundamentally different than their earlier forebears. I conclude that given the apocalyptic eschatology inherent in many of the pseudepigraphical texts that appropriate the DL tradition, and Mark’s own inclination towards dualism, the darkness is best understood as being demonic in origin and meant to affect Jesus as he suffers on the cross, showing that the judgment of God has fallen on the Messiah.

Scholars have claimed that the material about David in 1 and 2 Samuel derives from two major sources – the Story of David’s Rise and the Succession Narrative. They cannot agree though on a number of issues concerning these sources including when they were written, what they included and where the limits of each of these are reflected in the Biblical books. Even the title the Story of David’s Rise has been questioned as has the purpose and other matters concerning the so-called Succession Narrative. As noted previously, a defence of David cuts across the “boundaries” of both putative sources and thus should be given serious consideration as the most important underlying factor in the books of Samuel. It has been suggested that David’s defence has similarities with the apologia of Hattusilis III, a thirteenth century Hittite King. While this is interesting, it poses difficulties of its own as to whether there was a historical link between Hattusilis’ apologia and the time of David. The present paper claims that to find such links it is necessary to consider the antecedent to Hattusilis’ apologia, Telepinu’s Law of Succession. There are indeed correlations between it and 1 and 2 Samuel. The questions are then posed as to possible channels of communication between the Hittite world and Jerusalem in the time of David and whether there would have been the capability to have written an apologia either in his reign or that of his son, Solomon.

Over the last two decades, a number of scholars have attempted to reconstruct the tradition that lies behind the Levitical priestly rights by triangulating the Blessing of Levi (Deut 33:8-11) with story of Massah-Meribah (Exod 17:1b-7) and the Levites punitive role in the Golden Calf narrative (Exod 32:25-29) (e.g., Baden, Dozeman, Johnstone, Van Seters). This paper begins by surveying the difficulties such a method of reconstruction encounters and then proceeds to propose what may be a more viable reading. Several features of the blessing evince a broad knowledge of the developing canon, rather than just non-P or “J” material as the above triangulation assumes. Deuteronomy 33:8 prescribes the Thummim and Urim be given to Levi’s “godly man” (le?îš ?asîdeka). Yet the lemme ?asîd elsewhere does not occur in the Pentateuch; it is overwhelmingly the property of psalmic material. Likewise, Deut 33:8 refers to both Massah and the “waters of Meribah” (m? merîb?), a phrase attested only in P related materials (Num 20:13; cf. Num 27:14; Deut 32:51) and not in the Exod 17:7. Finally, it is common to assume that the Levites’ refusal in Deut 33:9 to consider (ra?ah), acknowledge (nakar), or regard (yada?) their kinship is indicative of an act of zealous violence. Yet the priest who is to wear the garments (presumably including the Urim and Thumim) is also to disregard the dead bodies of his kin in order to avoid defilement (Lev. 21:10-11; cf. Lev 10:1-6). Together, these traditional reflections hold broad implications for the relative chronology of the Blessing of Levi in the formation of the Pentateuch as well as the early relationship of the Levites to Aaronides.

Building on the discussions initiated in 2011 in this paper I shall revisit critical special theory in an attempt to suggest additional gains for interpreting the Book of Hebrews.

This paper investigates the various texts in the book of Kings that attribute the exiles of the kingdoms of Israel and Judah to the sins of the king and/or to the sins of the people. It argues that while earlier versions of the book of Kings explained the exile(s) in terms of the king’s sin, the blame for the exile(s) was gradually shifted to the people as a whole as the book of Kings became incorporated into the larger Deuteronomistic History (or perhaps Enneateuch). It then situates this suggestion within the context of other biblical texts from the Persian period that share the notion of collective sin, focusing particularly on Jer 31:27-34 and Lam 5. On the basis of such analysis and comparison, this paper proposes that the notion of collective sin as the cause of exile perhaps first found expression outside the Deuteronomistic History in texts such as Jer 31:27-34 and was subsequently adopted as an explanation for the exile within the later redactions of the Deuteronomistic History and in other deuteronomistic texts.

The paper explores the value of Scripture memorization as a distinct approach to biblical and theological studies. While all forms of Scripture memorization are worthwhile, the particular manner advocated in this paper is memorization of entire books. Brief consideration is given to the ancient art of Scripture memorization as practiced in both Jewish and Christian circles, with further reflections on its declining usage today, not least among the guild of theologians. The main part of the paper will be devoted to examining the results of this type of activity as applied to the memorization of the epistle to the Hebrews. Attention will be given to several exegetical and theological highlights gleaned from this exercise. At various levels of analysis, be they simple (morphological, syntactical, or lexical), or more complex (motif, discourse analysis, structural, or theological), memorizing the epistle to the Hebrews enhances one’s capacity to understand and relate to the truths of this special canonical writing.

The final two chapters of the book of Revelation depict the new Jerusalem using a variety of images and metaphors from the Hebrew Scriptures. One prominent motif the author employs is that of Eden as evidenced by the presence of the tree of life in the center of the city. Consistent with this Edenic imagery, I wish to argue for two specific references to the curse of Adam in these chapters: first, Rev 21:4 and the elimination of "ponos"—often translated “pain” though better translated as “hard labor”; second, Rev 22:3 and the statement that the “curse will be no more”—sometimes translated as “the accursed will not be present.” In both instances, the majority of English translations obscure the reference to an Edenic curse making it difficult for modern interpreters to note the presence and significance of the curse’s removal in Revelation’s eschatological depiction. I wish to argue that both of these passages indicate that the author of Revelation stands squarely in a Jewish tradition that expects the eschaton to contain a reversal of the Edenic curse and that he is taking his cues from paradise traditions as found in Josephus, Philo, 2 Baruch, the Testament of Abraham, and ancient translations of Isaiah 65.

This paper argues that Genesis 11:1-9 follows the well attested structure of Mesopotamian building accounts polemically addressing the main themes and motifs presented therein. Motifs of name-making, universal hegemony and colossal building projects are found in both the Genesis account and the Mesopotamian inscriptions. The Hebrew author subverts the imperial hubris presented in Mesopotamian royal building ideology by creating a “mock” building-account based on components traditional to the building-account genre. Analysis of the Genesis pericope in light of the building-account genre helps explain some of the difficult interpretive contours of the text (e.g. the so-called “double descent” of YHWH) as well as highlights a main aspect of the offense inherent in the actions and attitude of the Babel builders—that building an entirely new city on virgin ground required divine consent—consent that YHWH does not give to such royal imperialistic pretensions.

Exegesis of 1 Tim. 2:8-15 has not taken into account the semantic constraints of the household code form on the way gender is in view in the passage. My paper briefly considers that form as dependent on the oikonomia tradition, following David Balch's assessment that the form was universally associated with peri politeia material in Greco-Roman antiquity and that the most important parallel to a household code like that of 1 Timothy is Aristotle's description of the component parts of the polis (Politics 1, 1253a 37). Given this context, I argue that 1 Tim. 2:8-15 cannot be concerned with the relation between males and females in general in “the household of God” but must deal with the relation between husbands and wives in particular in that household economy. After providing a brief reading of 1 Tim. 2:8-15 in light of the passage’s concern with the order of marriage, my paper draws on feminist criticism (e.g., Jennifer Bird) to offer a summary theological account of the problem with treating marriage as foundational to political/communal order in Aristotelian fashion in the church and society. My account exposes that problem in both the ancient Greco-Roman milieu and a contemporary national capitalist order like that of the United States, showing how 1 Tim. 2:8-15 engages the problem and has functioned to perpetuate it. My paper will close with some comments on where the text leaves us today.

It is 21 years ago since the first commercial version of Logos Bible software has entered the market. BibleWorks followed in 1992 and Accordance in 1994. Bible software production has become a business worth millions of dollars. The absence of Bible software on the workbench of today's biblical scholars has become unthinkable. At the same time biblical scholars have continued to express their critique of Bible software and its rather limited value for the specific exegetical task of textual analysis. There is a growing disillusionment found when unfulfilled expectations of biblical scholars are expressed in scholarly meetings. From the perspective of OT biblical scholars, today's Bible software functions more as a feature rich biblical e-library than as an exegetical e-laboratory that offers strong analytic tools assisting the scholar's reading of the text. The (post)modern exegete would like to be guided in his search for inter-subjective text-syntactical signals and his search for patterns on the diverse available linguistic levels (morphology, phraseology, syntax, text-grammar). In this paper the role Bible software presently plays for OT Biblical scholars will be assessed. In a further step the paper will present the type of questions OT Biblical scholars ask when analyzing OT texts with their diachronic and synchronic characteristics. Gen 20, 2 Kings 5:18 and Jeremiah 48:25-28 will function as case material. The paper will then illustrate how the process of exegetical analysis could be assisted by electronic tools not yet available in commercial Bible software products. Finally, concrete suggestions are made for developing Bible software that utilizes the full potential of the WIVU database giving more attention to the specific needs of Biblical scholars and facilitates an electronic environment in which Biblical language learners will learn to master grammar and vocabulary and will improve their reading skills.

Fox notes that in Proverbs food functions as a metaphor for absorbing wisdom (10.21a; 12.14a). In this paper, I explore gustation in Proverbs more broadly, and argue that taste frequently marks the reception, retention, and generation of wisdom and folly, thereby legitimating social distinctions. In general, sages sought to train their students' palates in binary terms, directing them toward sweet tastes and away from bitter ones. Of course gustation proved to be more complex than this binary reveals (5.3-4; 15.17; 17.1). Drawing on Bourdieu's analysis of the sense of taste and cultural aesthetics, I show how the conceptual metaphor "Words are Food" links the literal and figurative functions of taste in Proverbs. Words-as-food enter a person's mouth and are stored in the belly (18.8; 26.22). These food-words may then be reproduced as speech (22.18), whence they become food for another's consumption. This imagined cycle, I argue, results in two complementary models. First, "you are what you eat." Since food-words descend to the belly (Shupak), taste plays a crucial role in self-formation. Eating sweet words produces a wise self; consuming bitter words results in a foolish self. Second, "you eat what you are." In other words, the types of food-words a person eats correspond to the category to which he belongs: fools consume bitter food-words, while the wise adhere to a strict diet of sweets. Thus, by observing what people eat, what kinds of speech they consume, one can distinguish types of persons. Bourdieu notes that taste not only marks social distinctions; it is also bodily, since humans necessarily become mixed with what they taste. My investigation of the way sages inculcated wisdom through educating the sense of taste, therefore, points to the embodied, not merely cognitive, nature of wisdom in Proverbs.

Western Christians often assume that the NT’s ethical ideals are higher than the OT’s. The paper argues that levels of ethical ideal are mixed in the NT, as they are in the OT. The NT accepts slavery of a more virulent form than that of servitude in the OT and expects wives to submit to their husbands, which the OT does not do. Jesus chooses only men to be among his Twelve Disciples and calls no women to follow him, notwithstanding other positive aspects to his attitude to women. The key to an understanding of these phenomena is the one Jesus offers regarding the Torah, that the Bible's examples and instructions regarding human behavior make allowance for human sinfulness as well as for creation ideals. This is true in the NT as well as in the OT. Thus there is no “problem” about the relationship of the OT and the NT in connection with the level of their ethics. The study of biblical ethics involves dealing with the way OT and NT both expound creation ideals and such allowance for human sinfulness.

In his work "Fragments of Lost Targumim," M. Goshen-Gottstein demonstrated the value of quotations of the targumim that are preserved in the works of medieval rabbinic authors. Even though some of the quotations cited by Goshen-Gottstein are not unique and also exist in manuscript traditions that had not been published, the fundamental significance of his method cannot be overstated. An examination of one work, which Goshen-Gottstein did not include in his survey, the sixteenth-century Aramaic lexicon "Meturgeman" by Elijah Levita shows that, despite its late date, it preserves a variety of unique readings in the Targumim. This paper suggests that, based on "Meturgeman" as a test-case, a more systematically complete collection of targumic quotations than Goshen-Gottstein gathered is a desideratum that would greatly benefit the text-critical aspect of targumic studies.

This study reports the geographical distribution of personal names in the land of Israel and Transjordan during the Iron II (ca. 10th century BC to 586 BC). In contrast with previous onomastic studies, the emphasis here is geographical and therefore only names from archaeological excavations were used. 799 names from 66 sites were collected and grouped as theophoric names, hypocoristic (abbreviated) theophoric names or other. The theophoric names were further sorted into seven subgroups comprising: the five theophoric elements yhw, yh, yw, b‘l, ’l, divine appellatives and god names other than Yahweh. Finally, the data are presented in a series of maps showing the geographical distribution of name types and its evolution over time. This work shows how names can be used to track historical ethnic trends. yhw and yh are unique Judean elements. Furthermore, names from major Judean sites show a characteristic mixture of theophoric elements that is substantially unchanged across all Judean sites studied but different from that found in Samaria. Additionally, yw is a unique element of Israel and the b‘l element was also found there. ’l is a dominant but not unique Ammonite element. The use of god names other than Yahweh was very limited. The use of the three yahwistic theophoric elements, yhw, yw and yh, as a single group increased substantially from the early to the later centuries and may indicate the spreading of yahwism.

Scholars have long pointed out that the critique against “shepherds” in Zech 11:4–14 implies significant criticism of political and religious authorities. Among the various proposals that have been made regarding the identity of those shepherds, an important view since Wellhausen interprets the discourse of Zech 11 as reflecting conflicts with the groups controlling the Jerusalem temple (e.g., P. D. Hanson, R. Mason, C. Stuhlmueller). However, this reading does not account well for all the evidence in Zech 11 such as, e.g., the fact that the prophet donates his salary to the temple (Zech 11:13). In this paper, I will first offer an interpretation of the shepherd motif in Zech 11:4–14, arguing that they are represented not so much as political leaders than as hired workers in the service of the owners of the “flock”, the latter representing the people of Judah/Israel. Although the criticism of shepherds, as a topos, has parallels in the prophetic literature (e.g., Jer 23, Ezek 34), the way this motif is developed in Zech 11 is very specific. I will then argue that this discourse on shepherd should be interpreted against the background of the Ptolemaic period, and should be connected in particular with administrative changes and tax policy at that time. More specifically, the critique of Zech 11:4–14 appears to be directed against local elites working for the royal administration as tax farmers. Contrary to what has often been assumed, Zech 11 is not opposed to the Jerusalem temple but supports instead the latter, in a context where its traditional authority, and perhaps economic influence, were challenged by the new imperial power.

The final chapter of the Book of Leviticus (Lev 27) consists of a discrete document regulating several mechanisms for the donation of silver currency and other types of property to the cult of Yahweh. Among the donations considered are the usufruct of patrimonial land (vv. 16–21), the usufruct of purchased land (vv. 22–24), and the full ownership rights of patrimonial land by virtue of a ?erem decree (v. 28). The complexities of the specific case of land, as well as ambiguities in the verses relating to it, have led to a general sense of confusion in commentaries on the text. Misinterpretations of vv. 20 and 23 have suggested that the cult of Yahweh is given special privileges with regard to landholding. I argue precisely the opposite: the legislation is meant to place limitations on the cult and maintain the bond between land and family even when the land in question has been consecrated to Yahweh. The idea that consecrated property “gets the upper hand” in business transactions is a rabbinic notion that would not find support in Lev 27. A second argument is that the field consecrations of Lev 27 relate to a system of supplementing the regular perquisites of the priests and are not about funding the temple treasury, as the early rabbis and most modern exegetes would understand it. The regulations of the chapter -- field consecrations among them -- are then to be read through the lens of village-level relations between priests and their benefactors. My final argument is that the 20% supplement for redeeming a field (v. 19) was in its original conception not a punishment for redemption but a means of bringing the original appraisal price, which was quoted in the holy shekel, in line with regular market prices for agricultural products. The latter would have used a shekel standard that was about 20% heavier. This becomes clear upon consideration of the corpus of stone scale weights for measuring silver and other commodities in late Iron Age markets. There are implications here for dating the fundraising practices lying behind Lev 27.

Writings in both testaments present mercy as a significant moral category. However, similar moral values do not necessarily mean similar ethics. To foster comparison with an ethical perspective addressing mercy within the Hebrew Bible, this paper explores the ethics supporting mercy as portrayed in two different Gospels, Matthew and Luke, reading each as Greco-Roman bioi, as “lives” of Jesus. After describing salient features of the ethics of Jesus emerging from Matthew and Luke, the paper attempts to show how the sense of mercy each Gospel advances flows from those distinct, yet overlapping, ethical perspectives. Matthew’s sense aims more at fixing the broken while Luke's aims more at valuing the undervalued. Those would be reinforcing points within a basic understanding of the kingdom of God unique to each Gospel, not mutually exclusive, competing points.

Sanctuaries are a particularly meaningful space for human though it is conceived as the place where humans meet the divine. Inscribed in specific landscapes, their sensory configurations contribute to establishing an efficacious dialogue between individuals, or communities, and divinities, both in ancient Mesopotamia and in ancient Greece. The invisible realm is made tangible through visual effects, sounds and smells that fill the sacred space, producing its sensory setting. In the ritual context, the entire body of the participants is involved through their senses. The combination of all sensory processes, or synaesthesia, guarantees the sacred characteristic of the particular moment of communication with the divine. What objects act upon the senses? Through what mechanisms and ritual strategies are both divine and human bodies activated within the ritual scene? This paper will investigate these questions by comparing ancient Mesopotamia and Greece, and by focusing on two very different textual corpora: on the one hand, Akkadian cuneiform ritual material from the 1st millennium BCE, and, on the other hand, Greek texts concerned with "sacred laws" and the control of sacrificial procedures in the context of festivals honouring the city gods. Our aim is to contrast and compare ritual strategies that transform a sacred moment into a sensory space, in which light, colours, noises and smell eventually merge.

For biblical scholars one of the most interesting aspects of John Wansbrough’s work on the Quran is his extensive and thoughtful interaction with biblical scholarship. This paper seeks to describe some significant points of contact between Wansbrough’s methods and the corresponding methods as applied in biblical studies. For example, Wansbrough’s reading of the variant traditions represented in the Quran regarding the prophet Shuayb will be compared with similar treatments of the sister-wife stories in Genesis by biblical scholars such as G. Von Rad and Michael Fishbane. Other parallels in literary scholarship include the identification of glosses within the canonical text, finding literary seams by pointing to changes of person, etc., and showing how statements within the canonical text actually address situations posterior to the text’s dramatic setting. Special attention will be given to parallels between Wansbrough’s analysis of the Quran and modern biblical scholarship on Jeremiah. William McKane’s terminology of “kernel” texts that were developed over time through exegesis, together with Ernest Nicholson’s insights into the development of the proto-Masoretic text of Jeremiah in the post-exilic period through “preaching to the exiles,” will be compared with similar ideas found in Wansbrough’s work on the Quran. In each case, I will clarify what realities would need to stand behind the texts and what evidence we would ideally want to have in order for these methods to be most effective. I hope that this comparison of methods might help bring some additional clarity to the force of Wansbrough’s arguments and illuminate the underlying issues in our understanding of the biblical texts. Brief discussion of the current state of these questions in biblical studies will be compared with more recent reflections on Wansbrough’s scholarship by Andrew Rippin, Walid Saleh, Muhammad Abdel Haleem, and Gabriel Said Reynolds.

This paper considers the library – and the promise of the perfect text within it – as a site of desire, terror, and ideology in the work of Borges, Lovecraft, and the Deuteronomistic History. The discovery of the “book of the law” in 2 Kings 22 is a pivotal theological and ideological moment in the text. I read this narrative of discovery against the nightmarish libraries and fantastic texts in the short stories of Jorge Luis Borges and H.P. Lovecraft. Borges’ “The Library of Babel” describes a mythical and infinite library that contains all possible knowledge. This library is at once a metaphor, a fantasy, and a space of (and in) fiction. The Library represents a dream of plenitude and the architecture of perfect knowledge. As with Borges, H.P. Lovecraft’s many libraries traffic in infinities and fantasies, but his library is a much darker and more ominous space. In his short fiction, Lovecraft repeatedly uses the library as the scene for the revelation of dark and threatening knowledge. While Borges’ library is an intellectual abstraction and quixotic fantasy, Lovecraft’s library thematizes the danger of revelation. Yet there are also points of continuity. Like Borges, who imagines a single infinite book that contains within its pages the entirety of the library, Lovecraft’s stories return to a single, imaginary book whose secrets yield madness. Positioning the “discovery” of the lost scroll in 2 Kings among these deadly books and perfect libraries complicates a biblical narrative typically dismissed as a “pious fraud.” Instead, the infinite possibility and forgotten terror of Borges’ and Lovecraft’s texts problematize the “secret book” that is an ideological cornerstone of the Deuteronomistic History. Reading 2 Kings 22 through Borges and Lovecraft reveals the interplay of eldritch spaces, secret books, and serious play, destabilizing the very practice of biblical interpretation.

In their 2000 statement “Dabru Emet,” a group of Jewish scholars noted that “Jews and Christians seek authority from the same book – the Bible (what Jews call ‘Tanakh’ and Christians call the ‘Old Testament’).” However, as Jon Levenson pointed out, Jews and Christians do not use the same Bible (nor are all Christian Old Testaments the same). In addition to Christians having more books in their Bible than do Jews, even the shared contents are arranged differently, suggesting different understandings of their theological significance. In fact, the reality is more complex than that, since Jewish editions themselves do not agree as to the sequence of their contents. What is now considered the “official” Jewish arrangement did not emerge until at least the fifteenth century; moreover, it differs from that specified in the classic talmudic passage on the subject (b. Baba Batra 14b). Indeed, the very idea of a proper order would have had no meaning until the biblical books were incorporated into a single volume, something that didn’t happen until inexpensive editions became feasible with Jewish adoption of the codex and the invention of movable type. It was also at that time that the term “Tanakh” came to be used as a word and not just an acronym for three categories of sacred texts (paralleling the shift of “biblia” from a Greek plural to a Latin singular). The idea that the order of biblical books is significant and reflective of theological meaning is, therefore, a modern construct rather than something deeply rooted in either Judaism or Christianity.

For the most part, individuals and groups within the Hebrew Bible appear to communicate effortlessly with each other, despite there being ethnic, national and other markers that would indicate differences in language. In only a few passages is there explicit recognition that different languages require some form of translation to allow for effective communication. In Genesis 42:23 (and also, traditionally, Neh 8:8), it is a matter of interpreting; at 2 Kings 18:26-28, efforts at intimidation are involved; the narrative of the Tower of Babel (Gen 11) relates to the origins and existence of distinct languages at the international or global level. Why are these issues raised in only these contexts? What does this tell us about the genres, intended audience(s), and purposes of different parts of the Hebrew Bible? These are among the questions that will be raised and discussed in this proposed presentation.

Although there are many definitions of humor, there should be no doubt that there’s plenty of it in the Hebrew Bible. By consensus, the book of Esther is one of the most humorous books of the Bible. There is less consensus about the book of Ruth, although verse-for-verse it may display even more humor than Esther. In this presentation, I look at a variety of types of humor within these two books of Megilloth, making comparisons and charting differences that I highlight through references to Jewish midrashic elaboration.

The passage Prov 30:18-19 appears together with a number of other graded numerical sayings in which a number of items are presented together, and the reader must figure out the meaning of their juxtaposition. The fourfold saying under discussion has been interpreted variously, with the fourth ("the way of a man with [or: in] a woman") often understood to be different in kind. In the present analysis and interpretation, proper significance is attached to the anaphoric repetition of "the path/course," and the fourth item is not taken to be different in kind from the preceding three items. The unit as a whole is interpreted to reflect an important theme that is otherwise not well represented in ancient Near Eastern and biblical wisdom.

The very notion of a portion of a sacrificial offering granted to a cultic officiant as a way of support for his religious service is deeply rooted in some of the earliest evidence of ancient Israel’s cult and is hardly unique to Israel. The Hebrew Bible, however, contains a variety of traditions concerning the priestly portion. Complicating matters further, an examination of the Versions also yields differences among the traditions. This paper identifies the various strands of tradition represented in the MT and the Versions and endeavors to trace the historical development of the practice. What is new here is that in addition to incorporating traditional text-critical and source-critical methodologies, the paper develops its proposed chronology in light of archaeological evidence from the Levant. Within the broader context of a survey of animal bone remains from relevant cultic sites from the Late Bronze Age through the late Iron Age II, evidence from a recent analysis of animal bones from the sacred precinct at Tel Dan in northern Israel is described, highlighting a measurable preference for right-sided limb portions in the area designated for priests, and correlated with the trajectory of tradition. The resulting reconstruction is important for discussions of the historical (and regional) development of the priestly portion within ancient Israelite religion(s) and the representation of the practice in the various strata of the priestly literature in the Hebrew Bible.

Frederick William Goudy (1865-1947), in an essay entitled "The Type Speaks" commenting on the power of the social news media of his time, put these words into the mouth of the mechanical instrument of the press: "I am the voice of today, the herald of tomorrow.... I am the leaden army that conquers the world -- I am TYPE." Type and Typewriters took their name from a hermeneutical methodology that was prominent, not only during the nineteenth century, but throughout most of the history of literature, and nowhere more than in the Bible. Typological Exegesis or Figural Reading was a standard hermeneutical strategy for the writers of the books that became the Christian New Testament. For centuries this practice, imitated by poets and novelists, has been largely uncontroversial. More recently, in the wake of the horrible dehumanizing torture and mass executions of the Holocaust, there has been a stress on "the unsubstitutable particularity" of every human being. Hans Frei, for example, argued that there could be no such thing as a "Christ figure" in literature, since Jesus of Nazareth was unique. Emmanuel Levinas, in an essay entitled "Persons or Figures" in Difficult Freedom, criticized Paul Claudel's use of typology, which, he argued, failed to honor the details and uniqueness of the biblical text and its characters. The task of this paper is to reexamine the use of typology on the part of New Testament authors (and in much of subsequent Christian theology) and to assess particularly its use in biblical ethics, where literary characters and historical figures are placed in relation to others, for hermeneutical purposes. Should typology as a methodological practice be abandoned as a form of "violence" suggested by the Goudy quotation, or are there controls that could govern its appropriate use?

The New Testament Virtual Manuscript Room is a pilot project of a new community collaboration framework designed to facilitate teams working together to produce content. The framework uses technologies which allow easy creation of project-specific tools which mingle with a rich set of collaboration components already available. Specifically, the NTVMR project brings online the hitherto manual workflow used to create the Nestle-Aland Greek New Testament. CrossWire Bible Society has built a cross-platform content delivery and research framework with frontends which run on all current digital platforms. Many hundreds of Bibles, commentaries, encyclopedia, lexicons and other study tools are available though the framework. Content creators are encouraged to host their own data repositories which can be registered with a central discovery service, allowing their content to be available for use by any frontend.

Josephus’s Vita has received some mixed responses by scholars, unsure how to interpret one of antiquity’s few extant, pre-Christian, examples of autobiography. The problems of understanding the Vita are caused by a lack of the necessary interdisciplinary approach, which must combine knowledge of Josephus with ancient literary history and critical genre theory. This paper, therefore, will analyse the Vita in relation to its literary heritage, as the product of a tradition of writing about oneself which Josephus shared with his contemporaries. In order to provide the relevant groundwork, the first part of the paper will briefly introduce the pertinent aspects of genre theory. Subsequently, this paper will present the results of a detailed literary analysis of the Vita, which demonstrates Josephus’s sensitivity to his literary surroundings. By comparing the text with contemporary examples of autobiographic literature in terms of external and internal features and literary devices, this analysis will determine which elements Josephus adopted from the above-mentioned comparative material, and which elements he avoided. It will become evident that by applying critical genre theory to this corpus of ancient texts, it is possible to distinguish distinct – yet related – subgenres within ancient autobiography to which Josephus was actively responding in the composition of his Vita. Josephus shows familiarity with a range of contemporary authors of ancient autobiography such as Augustus, Nicolaus, Claudius and Herod and with this knowledge he ensures that he models his Vita according to the contemporary generic parameters. The application of genre theory also allows us to understand the Vita’s role in the life of the genre autobiography as a whole – Josephus was inspired by, and reacting to, the literary milieu he was writing in.

Two attributes that distinguish Nabatean-Aramaic as a Middle Aramaic dialect are (1) its retention of older features from Imperial Aramaic and (2) its Arabic substratum. Just as these particular attributes help to define Nabatean-Aramaic linguistically, we can find similar strata within the legal traditions from which Nabatean-Aramaic scribes drew. Nabatean-Aramaic legal materials include a fair number of terms, locutions, and phrases that distinguish them from contemporaneous Aramaic corpora. Some of these distinguishing features can be attributed to Nabatean-Aramaic’s Arabic substratum, while others may possibly be archaic retentions known from earlier legal traditions. In this paper, I will attempt to isolate some of these features and assess whether we can classify them as retentions or as innovations.

Hosea 4 and 9 both refer to the contention that in the 8th century BCE, in the course of pilgrimages to various sanctuaries (presumably including but not necessarily limited to Bethel, Beersheba, Gilgal, and Dan), Israelite men from Samaria, who left their wives at home to take care of household, family farm, cottage industries and children, engaged in extra-marital sex with prostitutes. Hosea 4 and 9 disapprove of this, and Hosea 4 even goes so far as to refer to a man who engages in extramarital sex in the course of a pilgrimage as zoneh. The latter usage is the only instance in the Bible of the masculine singular noun zoneh, which designates a man who cheats on his wife. Hosea 9:2 begins with the expression ahabta 'etnan - 'you (masculine) love a harlot's fee'; and it ends with a feminine pronoun [in Hebrew it is a pronominal suffix]. A Masoretic note there intimates that one might want to substitute a masculine plural or common plural for the feminine singular pronoun [in Hebrew it is a pronominal suffix]. However, that same note intimates, one should be aware that the feminine singular pronoun is not a mistake. Notwithstanding the Masoretic note and possibly inspired by it, a marginal note in the JPS Tanakh, inspired by Hosea 4, emends the noun object 'etnan of the verb 'ahabta in Hosea 9:2 to zenut. The emendation assumes that a woman would receive harlot's hire and possibly delight in receiving such payment for services rendered, but that a man would not receive such payment for services rendered. On the other hand, Micah 1, also referring to 8th century BCE Samaria, tells us that the entire economy of Samaria, including the calves of silver and gold employed in divine worship, was largely based upon harlot's fees for services rendered. Read in the light of the modern academic subject called Sex and Tourism, and a number of ancient texts, Hos. 9:2 informs us that married men, professional prostitutes, and male and female hoteliers all provoke the wrath of 8th century BCE prophets and the deity in whose name they speak.

The Book of Judges is filled with characters that share the common fate of mutilation and torture. Ehud, Sisera, and the Levite's Concubine are among those whose stories are well known and studied. There are others in Judges, however, who experience torture and whose stories are not yet told. This paper combines an investigation of a well-known minor character in Judges, the Levite's Concubine (Judg 19), and one not so well-known, Adoni-bezek (Judg 1:4–7). The juxtaposition of the two characters serves to highlight their differences and similarities with respect to the Book of Judges at large. Therefore, the methodological trajectory of this paper is two-fold. First, a combination of rhetorical criticism and character study examines the interconnections between Adoni-bezek and the Levite's Concubine through their: (1) parallel positions within the chiastic structure of Judges; (2) construction as minor characters in Judges; and (3) dismembered corporeal bodies. Second, the paper employs trauma theory à la Cathy Caruth, which emphasizes the capacity of literature to give voice to historical events where the wounds of the events are so severe that they cannot be spoken in the present time of the event, but later. The paper applies this theory as an interpretive lens to investigate the significance of the motif of dismemberment in order to address the following question: What does dismemberment add to the Book of Judges?

The single Manichaean work of art known today from West Asia, where Mani’s religion originated, is a rock crystal seal (INT. 1384 BIS) housed in the collection of the Département des Monnaies, Médailles et Antiques (informally known as the Cabinet des Médailles) of the Bibliothèque nationale de France in Paris. While the antiquity of this seal is not in question, its provenance remains a mystery. There are no records concerning where it was found and how it got to Paris. The only data about its origin in the Bibliothèque nationale is its purchase from a Paris dealer in 1896. The goal of this paper is two-fold. (1) Based on the assessment of the physical features, I argue that this small piece of clear quartz is a double-sided object that originally was enclosed in a metal frame to fulfill a dual function. Primarily, this crystal was designed as a hardstone seal, with an intaglio side made to function as a stamp used for authenticating documents. Its flat side fulfilled a secondary function, since on this side the carved content shows through from below as a positive image, with a legible Syriac inscription and the main figure facing to the right, confirming that this side was designed as an engraved gemstone. (2) Based on the examination of its inscription and iconography in light of late ancient Manichaean literature, as well as Parthian, Sassanian, and Kushan iconography and inscriptions on seals and coins, I suggest that this seal-medallion was made for the use of Mani (216-276 CE) as his official seal in the middle of the 3rd century CE, sometime during the era of his ministry (240-276). As customary on official seals from Mesopotamia and Iran at that time, the inscription provides the name and title, while the image pictures the owner of the seal most often as a bust. In this case, flanked by two of his elects, the main figure represents Mani, who routinely begins his epistles by identifying himself with the very title used on this crystal—“Mani, the apostle of Jesus Christ”— as on the seal in Paris.

This paper explores the origins and development of the Gospel of Mark in Syriac Christianity. After surveying the sparse accounts of the origins of the Syriac Gospels in general, we consider the character and features of Syriac Mark in the Old Syriac traditions. This is then compared with specific instances of citations of Mark of the Diatessaron. Finally, we consider the place of Syriac Mark in the exegeses, homilies, and liturgies of Syriac-speaking Christianity.

Throughout the Acts of Paul and Thecla, Thecla transgresses. Her strategic gender-bending opens the text for feminist interpretations of gender construction. And even more powerfully, her entire characterization is filled with ambiguities and liminalities, positioning her outside of extant power binaries in order to deconstruct and delegitimize the current social order. Thecla both embraces church practices and undermines them; she follows Paul but exceeds his efficacy at Christian witness; and she answers to civic authorities even as she shows greater justice than they. And while Thecla’s non-normative social performance deconstructs these individual authorities directly, it also serves as an indication of the greater threat posed by her character, that of boundary breaking and divinely sanctioned liminality. Read through a queer, feminist lens, the Acts of Thecla offers a subversive revelation of the fragility of social structures. The story defies and deconstructs dominant expectations more often than it explicitly reconstructs values for liberation. But the dynamism of Thecla’s character – as she variously adapts masculine and feminine traits, as she moves in and out of spaces of authority – creates possibilities of empowerment, as the fluidity of her identity is divinely authorized even as it is shown to be politically threatening. Ultimately, Thecla’s social de/construction allows audiences to see space for queer non-conformity and boundary breaking as a means to deliberate non-hierarchical relations and alternative kinship.

Job is portrayed by the narrator as blameless and upright, a man of great wisdom who therefore feared God and shunned evil. It is striking therefore that when this man of God experiences a range of horrendous unwarranted disasters at the hand of God his first response is to identify with his mother, Earth: ‘Naked I came from my mother’s womb.’ Job’s identification with Earth has been ignored by most scholars. What are the implications of Job’s opening response to his sufferings? Has the narrator set up more than a tension between a faithful human on Earth and a devious deity in heaven?

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The Johannine Jesus promises the gift of peace to his disciples in his farewell discourse. In this connection, Jesus explicitly distinguishes the peace he gives from the peace the world gives: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives” (John. 14:27; cf. also 16:33). This juxtaposition calls forth a comparison between two different kinds of peaces. How is Jesus’ peace different from the peace the world is able to give? Given the significance of peace in the Roman imperial ideology, it is surprising that this aspect has not figured more prominently in recent studies where John has been analyzed as a work of imperial negotiation. The Ara Pacis Augustae was consecrated in Rome in 9 BCE to celebrate the peace brought to the empire by Augustus’ successful military campaigns. Since then, various Augustus’ successors to the throne wanted to boast of their triumphs and cement their reputation using concepts and imagery related to the celebration of peace, personified as the goddess Pax. The paper traces the significance of the cult of Pax in the political ideology of the empire in literary texts and in material culture. Also contemporary non-imperial, philosophical discussions about peace are reviewed in order to illuminate how John’s seemingly otherworldly concept of peace negotiates the political realities of the time.

Most who speak of the “preferential option for the poor” recognize that this teaching is rooted in Jesus’ interactions with the poor as well as the final judgment scene from Matthew 25. What is often overlooked, however, is that the theology of the poor actually begins in biblical Hebrew poetry, especially in the book of Job and in the Psalms. Gustavo Gutierrez acknowledges as much in his own works, most notably in his commentary on Job. The poor are also significant in the Psalter to such an extent that it has been called the “prayer book of the poor.” In a recent article, Alphonso Groenewald shows that a “theology of the poor” is behind the final redaction of the Psalter, in his specific case in Ps 69:33-34. This emphasis on the poor is also apparent in psalms outside the Psalter, such as the prayer of Hannah in 1 Sam 2 and in the Magnificat, which seems to be inspired by it. Throughout the book of Psalms and even in the much later book of Ben Sira, Israel’s own self-identity seems bound in a special way to the poor (cf. Ps 14:4-6; Sir 35:14-26). Those who recognize this and who show kindness to the poor honor God, while those who oppress them blaspheme (cf. Prov 14:31; 17:5). In this paper, I explore why biblical poetry in particular gives the preferential option for the poor its rhetorical force in a way that prose is simply unable to.

In Israel, or in the Hebrew Bible, what is the sociology that preserved texts with reservations about kingship? Why have we NO texts advocating unshackled kingship, until I Esdras (related to Herodotus, and to quislings like Plato and Arrian)? Do approaches from the emerging field of Comparative Sanctimony promise new insight?

The paper presents the results of my Ph.D. thesis: Linguistic Manifestations of Divine Thought. An Investigation of the Use of Stoic and Platonic Dialectics in the Trimorphic Protennoia (NHC XIII,1) and the Thunder: Perfect Mind (NHC VI,2). The two Nag Hammadi texts employ language-related vocabulary in their descriptions of the descent of divine Thought. Thought manifests itself progressively in linguistic terms as Sound, Voice and Word. I suggest calling this kind of descent a Linguistic Manifestation. The main focus is how the two Nag Hammadi texts are clearly indebted to ancient philosophy of language as it appears in Platonic and Stoic dialectics. Firstly, the descents of divine Thought are analyzed against the background of the Stoic description of a verbal expression in which the levels go from inarticulate sound/voice over speech to the fully articulate and intelligible word/sentence (logos). I argue, that even if the progressive sequence of linguistic manifestations found in these texts are of Stoic origin, they turn the levels of semanticity “upside-down”. Thus, the highest semantic level in the Nag Hammadi texts is the Silence and not the logos as in the Stoic theory. Secondly, I suggest analyzing the enigmatic name of the revealer in Thunder: Perfect Mind in light of Platonic critique of names (words) and the Stoic notion of “primary sounds”. I show how her name, when uttered in the sensible world, sounds like the rumbling of thunder, even though “Thunder” is not her actual name. Finally, I argue that the Thunder: Perfect Mind draws on the Platonic method of diairesis which is a method of definition by division presenting one pair of opposites after the other. The revealer proclaims to be “the manifestation of division (diairesis)” which I regard as the key to understanding her identification with numerous opposite concepts.

While the Divine Warrior motif has been recognized many times over in the study of the Hebrew Bible, the connection between the Divine Warrior and the legal material has not been made apparent. This paper will attempt to identify the Divine Warrior’s role in the legal and covenant material in the Hebrew Bible, which will help to view the specific theological role of the Divine Warrior within the overarching framework of the legal material. Identifying and exegeting a number of occurrences of the Divine Warrior motif both in and out of the legal material, this paper will show that the Divine Warrior is intrinsically tied to the legal material, and that neither can stand without the other. This paper will briefly discuss the divine warrior motif in the mythic texts of cognate literature and the relation of the motif to legal texts in the surrounding cultures in an attempt to compare the Hebrew notion of the motif to the cognate notion. Finally, an overview of the motif in and relating to the legal material will be given, attempting to explicate the purpose of the Divine Warrior motif throughout the Hebrew Bible.

While gender roles in society have been debated by Muslim thinkers since the 19th century, the particular connection between gender and marriage has not always been at the forefront of such debate. It is in discourses on marriage, I argue, that conceptions of divinely ordained gender roles are constructed and negotiated. In this paper I analyze American Muslim approaches to the question of gender dynamics in Muslim marriages through a discussion of three distinct perspectives, positing gender equity, equality, and hierarchy respectively. Each of these three positions implicitly also engages prevalent American discourses and debates about gender and the peculiar position of American Muslims as a religious minority community. My discussion is based on textual sources offering advice to American Muslims, thereby both reflecting existing discourses and issues in American Muslim communities, and models presented to those communities as blueprints for Islamic marriage. I argue that references to particular Qur?anic passages reflect an ongoing communal and scholarly engagement with the Qur?an and simultaneously construct it as a source of authority in its own right.

At the heart of the exodus tradition is an interest in God's activity, particularly as represented in God’s saving acts on behalf of the people of Israel. In the poetry and prose accounts of the crossing of the sea (Exodus 13:17 – Exodus 15:18), the text is very explicit that it is God who effects salvation for the people. There is also, however, significant attention focused on what people say in response to God’s actions. To state this theologically, there is concern for the appropriate human verbal response to divine action. One of the clearest articulations of Israel’s vocal reaction to God’s activity is expressed in the Song of the Sea itself. Yet there are several hints in the text that it not only human speech that provides a clue for the interpretation of the sea traditions found in Exodus. Rather, speech functions together along with silence, as exercised by Israel, by the other nations, and by God, to shape the theological discourse.

William Loader’s encyclopedic work undoubtedly provides the most helpful current overview of questions regarding biblical texts on sexuality. Perhaps the major weakness, however, is the failure to change the question. Loader’s contribution would have been even greater had he more aggressively challenged the way traditional ideologies distort exegesis. Rather than following efforts to find a text that condemns all same-sex acts as sinful, a more revealing question would be to ask how heterosexist and homophobic presuppositions have distorted translations, exegesis and hermeneutics. An example would be F.W. Danker’s recognition that versions based on earlier editions of the BDAG lexicon erred when they proposed the now widely accepted translation of Paul’s arsenokoitai as “homosexuals.” A second weakness is the tendency to impose an “ethical” unity on the diversity of biblical exegetical perspectives regarding sexual matters, which Loader’s work abundantly documents. For instance, he writes: “The early Christian movement as it developed within Judaism was heavily influenced by Jewish assumptions . . . Statements by Jesus appeared as the very opposite of loosening the demands of biblical law. They enhanced their strictness even further—such as on divorce and remarriage”. But references to “Judaism” and “Jewish assumptions” encourage readers to forget the diversity characteristic of both the “Judaisms” and “Christianities” of the period. Judaism is identified with the “demands of biblical law” rather than its Wisdom literature.

The book of Jubilees is widely recognized as an important source for understanding the Festival of Weeks as it evolved in the Second Temple period. The idea that the Festival of Weeks is not merely a harvest festival but a commemoration or renewal related to the Sinai covenant resonates not only at Qumran but through parallels in Rabbinic and Christian literature. Yet scholars have underestimated the profound influence and originality of Jubilees, treating it either as reflecting a widespread development, or as making explicit an implication already long-attested in Chronicles. In fact, Jubilees interprets older sources to promote a legal innovation in understanding the Festival of Weeks as an annual covenant renewal. The idea of covenant renewal can be found in older sources, and it may seem inevitable that the Festival of Weeks would be linked to a major historical event in the same month and dated to the fifteenth like the other two pilgrimage festivals. Yet no source before Jubilees puts these pieces together. Indeed, the fact that Jubilees uses all of its rhetorical devices to explain and justify the connection indicates the originality of the innovation. The tremendous influence of this innovation is reflected in the literature found at Qumran. The Community Rule describes the annual covenant renewal ceremony most clearly, and the cave 4 fragments of the Damascus Document indicate that the document as a whole functioned in connection to the festival. The influence of Jubilees’ legal innovation can also be found in a variety of calendrical and liturgical texts. While we can establish that Jubilees is the original source, the influence of Jubilees is not acknowledged and its echoes fade in sources related to the ceremony.

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Vered Noam has written an insightful book, From Qumran to the Rabbinic Revolution: Concepts of Impurity [Heb.](2010) arguing that the Rabbis tried to reduce the effect of impurity by divorcing its rules for secular purity from their Scriptural moorings. Noam argues that the Tannaim did not consider secular purity grounded in Scripture, and she finds a “blatant partition between biblical exegesis and prevailing praxis” (JStJud 39, 2008:507-8). While I agree that the Rabbis sought to delimit the impurity laws of Scripture, I argue that in several major instances, the Rabbis use Scripture itself to do this. The particular cases I examine are: 1) following Lev. 11:38, the limitation of susceptible water to that which is “put on” an item by intentional human means (m. Makh.; Sifra); 2) following Lev. 11:32, the reduction of susceptible articles to a few usable vessels (m. Kelim; Sifra); 3) following Num 19:14, the focus on the “tent” as the vehicle of corpse impurity by overhang limits the matter to tents only (m. Ohalot; Sifre Num.). Houses, i.e. normal residences, are unaffected. Not all early exegetes delimited the power of impurity. Qumran authors understood Scripture to: 1) maintain the susceptibility of liquids to impurity, however, they do not add caveats for intentionality (1QS 6:16-17,20-21; 11Q19 48:11-13; 4Q284); 2) consider all items in the house of death subject to impurity, including the house itself, regardless of their intended purpose (11Q19 49:5-16; CD 12:15-18). The Rabbis, like other ancient Jews, do recognize Scriptural support for ordinary purity, cf. Leviticus 11 (Milgrom 1991) and Numbers 19, and hence they are forced to argue from Scripture in order to limit its own purity restrictions. The concept of intention, a biblical principle, was employed to the task. If at all possible, the innovation to reduce impurity must go through the text not around it.

‘Consolation’ as a topos has primarily been studied in relation to the epistle to the Philippians (Y.W. Smith [2003]; P.A. Holloway [2004]). Inexplicably, the motif of ‘consolation’ in 2 Corinthians has not commanded the same attention, apart from J. Kaplin’s study (HTR 104/4 [2011]: 433-455) of Paul’s understanding of grief and comfort from the perspective of Epictetus’ philosophy and Old Testament prophecy and laments (Isa 40:1-11; Lam 1-2). Paul’s terminology of ‘consolation’ (paraklêsis: 2 Cor 1:3, 4, 5, 6, 7; 2:7; 7:4, 7, 13), ‘affliction’ (thlipsis: 1:4, 8; 2:4; 7:4; cf. 4:17; 6:4) and ‘joy’ (chara: 1:24; 2:3; 7:4, 7, 9, 13) is woven throughout 2 Corinthians 1:1—2:13 and 7:4-13. Scholars who subscribe to a partition theory of 2 Corinthians 1-7 posit a conciliatory tone for the two previous passages, whereas 2:14—7:3/7:4, it is proposed, is polemical. While D.A. DeSilva has challenged this position (AUSS 34/1 [1996]: 5-22) from the viewpoint of rhetorical criticism, another viable approach is to consider each pericope (1:1—2:13; 7:4-13) against the backdrop of Graeco-Roman consolatory literature and the writings of Second Temple Judaism. Significantly, Cicero speaks of the role of consolation thus: ‘These therefore are the duties of comforters: to do away with distress root and branch, or allay it or diminish it as far as possible, or stop its progress and not allow it to extend further, or to divert it elsewhere’ (Tusc. 3.31.76). How did Paul, by means of his consolatory rhetoric, ensure reconciliation with the Corinthian church? Among many issues, the Corinthians were alienated by Paul’s failure to keep his promises (2 Cor 1:15—2:4), in one case publicly opposing the apostle (2:5-11; 7:12), with the result that some attached themselves to the interloping apostles (3:1-3). What distinctive rhetorical elements from Second Temple Judaism and Paul’s gospel further framed his response?

The Devil is commonly portrayed as the ultimate, “behind the scenes” adversary within early Christian martyrologies. While some scholars have interpreted the afflicter in Mart. Pol. 2.4 as a “tyrant” or human official, I will add to the arguments of those who identify this afflicter as the Devil (cf. various renditions of the flow of 2.4-3.1). The Devil’s role in the narrative climaxes in 17.1, as “the jealous and evil one” prohibits the proper burial of Polycarp’s body. This specific text demonstrates how the opposition of “the Adversary of the family of the righteous” plays a definite socio-rhetorical role—an adversarial “other” in the formation of communal social-identity. This paper will further argue that diabolic opposition may lie behind the “unrighteous ruler” of Mart. Pol. 19.2 (cf. Rev. 2:10-11; Mart. Lyons. V.1.42). The Letter of Lyons and Vienne references the Devil far more than the Martyrdom of Polycarp, mentioning “Satan” twice, the “Serpent” once, the “Beast” twice, the “Adversary” four times, and the “Devil” five times. The recurrence of such terminology throughout the Martyrs of Lyons points to the impact of apocalyptic imagery (cf. the direct influence of Rev. 1:5; 3:14; 14:4; 22:11 within Mart. Lyons). This fact (and the language of “the Beast” in the specific context) helps uncover overlooked echoes of Revelation within an underappreciated passage (Mart. Lyons V.1.57-63). Facets of this passage parallel the exposure of the two witnesses in Revelation 11, thus connecting the equivalent role of the Devil in three key texts (Rev. 11, Mart. Pol. 17, and Mart. Lyons V.1.57-63).

In the latter half of the nineteenth century, scholars begin to publish works recognizing and demonstrating the early beginnings of Modern Greek, finding features in Greek writings of the first century and earlier that continue to exist in the modern language. Despite such research, New Testament lexicographers fail to systematically consult this later stage of the language when analyzing word meanings. After establishing an important unity of the New Testament with Modern Greek and a deficiency in New Testament lexicons in exploiting this unity, I make use of insights gained from the modern phase of the language to advance the understanding of general word senses, the construction of definitions, and the presentation of lexical entries.

This paper will trace the theoretical and expressive undulations of island theory over the last four years. It will particularly reflect on most recent contributions to this emergent theory. It will also offer speculations on future trajectories as indicated by a variety of thinkers from various island locales.

In this paper, I seek to synthesize the data from the Hebrew Bible, archaeology, and ethnographic study into a coherent model of the emergence of early Israel in Canaan. While there have been many other studies of this subject, this paper proposes the adoption of culture-scale as a tool for reconstructing the early Israelite settlement. Using the culture-scale, a new social-scientific model for understanding the emergence of Israel in Canaan can be constructed. This Culture-Scale Model is comprehensive in that it explains Israel's emergence and rise to dominance in Canaan as a fluid progression through the culture-scale. It is also a relatively flexible model, in that it can incorporate both internal and external components, as well as military and peaceful processes, that constitute the settlement of early Israel in Canaan.

In this paper, I consider the forensic anthropological study of a gladiator graveyard on the outskirts of ancient Ephesos. A significant number of human remains were identified as most likely the bones of gladiators who lived in the range of the turn of the third century CE, and these bones were subjected to a variety of forensic and chemical analyses. I will argue that these analyses offer evidence of ancient gladiatorial askesis, regimens of exercise including the keeping of a prescribed diet and the maintenance of medical care of the self, aimed at transformation of the self. At the same time, the gladiator graveyard provides evidence of the scripting of the arena, as the gladiators apparently only rarely attempted possible killing blows during a bout. This concatenation of themes--the arena, personal askesis, and social scripting--has also been discussed widely in scholarly discussions of Christian and Jewish martyrdom. I will ask, should we think differently about the practices and performances of the martyrs given this analogy to gladiators? What sorts of constraints were put upon these performers in the deadly games?

The incommensurability of the various biblical claims about the extent of Solomon's empire is a widely-noted problem in both the historical reconstruction of the period and the composition of the historical books. Against claims that the huge territory described in 1 Kgs 5:1 (ET 4:21) is late and/or redactional, this paper shows that it is very much in keeping with inflated Egyptian rhetoric about the extent of their rule. This form of imperial ideology was particularly apparent in the late New Kingdom, but survived until the Neo-Babylonian conquest of Egypt. While this comparison cannot determine the provenance of such passages, it advances the possibility that Solomon absorbed certain traits of Egyptian imperial rhetoric, in keeping with the broader Egyptian influence on the United Monarchy.

In many colleges and universities, we have already reached the point where a student’s (or professor’s!) first impulse when confronted with a desire for new information is to “Google it.” With the increasing power of small mobile computing devices like smartphones and tablets, students are rarely more than a few taps away from whatever online information sources they choose to access. The ubiquity of Google searches poses at least two specific challenges for biblical studies courses: (i) it enables students to rely more heavily than ever on secondary sources rather than primary sources, and (ii) it conditions students to rely less on memory and more on quick access to indexed information. Using a digital Bible instead of a paper Bible can accommodate and even “redeem” the second challenge while somewhat counterbalancing the first. In this presentation, I will describe how I have leveraged the ubiquity of smart devices to teach and test digital Bible search skills in “Religion 101: The History and Religion of Israel.” I will share specific apps and exercises used to help students climb the “scaffold” from Bible search novices to more skilled navigators of digital Bibles.

Historically the parables attributed to Jesus have been analyzed for their religious value through a number of strategies: allegory, metaphor, and as narratives having a one-point moral. More recently they have been analyzed for what they express about human existence, and also described as codifications for social reform. In this paper parables are narratives, which are in form and content first-century fictions. Parables are secular stories about common life in first-century Palestine. They do not moralize, nor does the narrative voice of the parables condemn or commend the behavior of the characters in the stories. The stories reflect neither apocalyptic despair nor imminent cosmic destruction. They are patently a-religious—neither advocating nor critiquing any critical view. The narrator of the parables has no opinions, is completely self-effacing, and is silent on matters of faith, morals, and religion (Hedrick, Many things in Parables, ix). One story, most problematical for both ancient and modern interpreters, has been the so-called “Dishonest Steward” (Luke 16:1-7). The string of ancient interpretations appended to the narrative (Luke 16:8-13) is indicative of the difficulty that the parable created for the early church (Luke and the tradition). As a story for the church, the difficulty that immediately presents itself is the apparent dishonesty of the steward, and the fact that “the master” commends his actions (Luke 16:8). The story turns on the apparent dishonesty of the steward, which deserves to be taken seriously as an integral part of the plot. The speaker in Luke 16:8 is the Jesus character in Luke’s story about Jesus, and not the owner of the business in Jesus’ story. Luke places the statement on the lips of his character (Jesus) in order to salvage something positive from a negative story.

About one hundred years ago, Joseph Schäfers had made preparations for a critical edition of the Ethiopic Book of Jeremiah. Unfortunately, his manuscript disappeared during the First World War. What remains is Schäfers' introduction with the title "Die äthiopische Übersetzung des Propheten Jeremias". The most important conclusions of Schäfers' monograph will be presented, as well as principal considerations for a critical edition of the Ethiopic version of the Book of Jeremiah.

This paper focusses on Tertullian’s treatise “Scorpiace”, in which he rebukes supposed Gnostic critics who question that martyrdom is imperative. Until now this text has been read as a reliable source for the Gnostic opinion about martyrdom. A close look at the points of criticism mentioned in this text reveals, however, that those critics need not be Gnostics at all. Only one item, a discussion of Matt 10:32, has indeed a gnostic background (e.g., NHC IX 3 Testimonium Veritatis 31-34). Thus it seems to be a rhetoric strategy by Tertullian to link all those critics with Gnostic heretics, especially with the Valentinians, to defend his own quite radical opinion about true martyrdom. “Scorpiace” conceals that not all Gnostics criticized martyrdom (cf. Klaus Koschorke, Die Polemik der Gnostiker, 1978) and, vice versa, that not every critic of martyrdom is a Gnostic. The suggested new understanding of this text may suit better both the plurality of opinions about martyrdom in early Christianity (cf. Moss, Ancient Christian Martyrdom, 2012) and the new, more adequate view of the Gnostic attitude towards martyrdom (cf. the discussions regarding the “Gospel of Judas” in the journal “Early Christianity” 2012).

Partial lines in Hebrew poetry tend to be of equal or similar length. This helps us to understand many other poetic features, such as imprecise parallelism, terseness, and ellipsis. This paper will use representative examples from the psalms to demonstrate that these little understood features of Hebrew poetry are integrally connected. Some surprising features of poetry come to light when they are considered together: ellipsis and new information, ellipsis as wordplay, the value of ambiguity in poetry, and the role of aural signs in the performance of poetry to indicate delineation. Overall, the findings presented here suggest that the interpretation of poetry needs to proceed with imaginative, close attention to the unique features of each poetic expression in its own right.

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Taking its impetus from several recent studies on the question of “science” within early Judaism, the present paper discusses several examples from the Bavli, Yerushalmi, and Bereshit Rabbah that indicate or allude to scientific calculations and experimental discovery in the natural world. This study will address passages that do not seem to have been very much explored, both in order to query for “science” and to look for indications of broader cultural engagement. The paper will first discuss the earth’s dimensions as calculated in b. Pes 94a and y. Ber 2c, both of which rely upon related sets of underlying calculations. This comparison leads to insights into how these mathematical problems were conceived of and organized, how Hellenistic wisdom was apparently part of that engagement, and how the redactors of both documents chose to resolve these issues in completely different ways. Second, a number of passages in BerR describe knowledge attained by empirical observation, including accounts of experiments set up for the distinct purpose of garnering such information. These passages allow us to query how the rabbis knew of such experiments, to ask whether or not Jewish sages participated in such experimental activities, and to determine how accounts of this approach to the natural world were used in the service of exegesis. The conclusion will make note of several points that can be learned about early Rabbinic attitudes toward “science,” both in favor of and in opposition to such modes of thought.

In a world where students today are used to the soundbites of Twitter, the jump cuts of YouTube, and the imagery of Pinterest, PowerPoint slides no longer grab attention. A short animation or interesting picture no longer offer enough motion and visual engagement. This presentation will demonstrate how a combination of Prezi presentations and live polling can actively engage a generation of students who are using mobile devices as their primary communication tools.

1Tim 6:20 offers the only explicit reference to a religious group of Gnostic type in the New Testament. Within the Pastoral Epistles, however, the profile of these “heretics” is highly disputed, because the letters describe very different characteristics that include Jewish, Christian, and Gnostic aspects. The paper will first argue that it is inappropriate to suppose a mixed type of “heresy,” i.e. a Jewish-Christian Gnosis. Further, it will demonstrate that each of the Pastoral Epistles has its specific context, and that 1Tim refers to the church’s struggle with rising Gnostic movements in the first half of the second century. Facing this exigent situation, the letter significantly transforms Pauline Ecclesiology.

Based on Hayim Lapin's arguments concerning the Romanization of Palestine and rabbis as provincial subalterns this paper suggests that rabbinic Judaism after the destruction of the Second Temple catered to Jews who lived in a diasporized Land of Israel without central Jewish political and religious institutions and agencies. Rabbinic Judaism - and the eventual emergence of synagogues - were appropriate means of maintaining Jewish identity under foreign political and cultural dominion. Rabbis represented a notion of holiness which was highly adaptable to different circumstances, geographically dispersed and mobile, in contrast to the centralized and fixed Temple rituals of the pre-70 period which were linked to political sovereignty. The expansion of rabbinic Judaism to Babylonia in late antiquity and to Western Europe in the Middle Ages indicate the success of this innovative form of religious thinking and practice.

Various early Christian writers, such as Paul, were well educated in Greco-Roman rhetoric and maitained an ambivalent attitude towards it. These writers utilized various strategies of Greco-Roman rhetoric in their sermons but at the same time recognized its deceptive and false nature, echoing Plato's criticism of the Sophists. Christians then develop an anti-rhetoric in the form of the sermo humilis. This paper will show that the rabbis of the talmud and midrash were similarly knowledeable of Greco-Roman techniques and utilized them in formulating their hermeneutical rules and composing thier own sermons. At the same time, they recognized the power of rhetoric to prove opposite arguments and lead to false conclusions. They therefore took steps to limit the application of rhetorical methods in their exegetical activity.

This paper will be part of a JFSR-sponsored panel on Comparative Feminist Studies of Scriptures. The panel and discussion aim to explore the hermeneutical methods used to read canonical texts, especially those which promote exclusion of and violence against wo/men, to compare the feminist hermeneutical approaches of scholars from/of different religions in order to identify commonalities and divergences in feminist interpretations of canonical texts and to assess the impact of such feminist interpretations for religious communities.

The manuscript 27.1, or ?an?a? palimpsest, has a long history in terms of the attention it has received from various researchers. Since 1971, when Gerd Puin discovered the importance of the manuscript, the main questions continue to revolve around the problem of the Qur’anic variants. The aim of this paper is to show one aspect of the transformation process of the Qur’an. The manuscript not only contains information about the Qur’an text evolution but also about the correction and commentary procedure.

Students enrolled in university level religion courses tend to be instructed in and assessed on their course content knowledge. In some instances, a focus on spiritual growth would be completely inappropriate; in other cases it can be an important component of the course. Generally there is not an emphasis on religiosity/spirituality-related outcomes, perhaps in part due to a lack of assessment tools to determine the extent to which students are growing spiritually from the course. This study represents an attempt to develop an instrument that targets the impact university religion courses have on specific-student religiosity/spiritual outcomes. A survey of 20 items (four scales) was administered to 608 freshmen enrolled in eight sections of the same course. The results provided initial evidence to support claims of score reliability and validity. The survey showed that there was difference in spiritual outcomes reported by students depending on their instructor. This has important implications for religious educators who wish to help facilitate spiritual outcomes for their students. As a part of my presentation I will provide a copy of the assessment to conference participants.

One of the central ways that the Destruction of Jerusalem in 70 C.E. is addressed in 4 Ezra and 2 Baruch is through the personification of Zion as a bereaved mother, who is not to be identified with the earthly Jerusalem. This ideal “Mother Zion” figure, drawn primarily from Deutero-Isaiah, exists on a heavenly plane in the narrative present, but also has a promised earthly existence in the eschatological future. Yet both apocalypses blur the distinction between the heavenly Zion and the earthly Zion by drawing a strong connection between Zion and another feminine personification, Mother Earth. In both texts, the personified Earth shares Zion’s grief and in some way contributes to her consolation. In 4 Ezra, the children of Zion are also the children of Earth, who is holding their souls in her womb until the time of the general resurrection. A similar picture of the Earth’s gestation of souls is found in 2 Baruch, alongside a parallel motif of the Earth’s swallowing and holding in trust the sacred vessels of the Temple until the restoration of the Earthly Zion. Yet the biblical association of the earth with death and the underworld has a more menacing aspect as well, as in 2 Bar 70:10, in which a description of the eschatological woes concludes, “And the whole earth will devour its inhabitants.” In 4 Ezra 5:48-55, the Mother Earth concept is closely tied to the notion that the cosmos itself is aging, which explains the eschatological breakdown of the natural order. Thus, although the feminine personification in 4 Ezra and 2 Baruch is maternal, it is not used exclusively to idealize Zion or Earth. Instead, it is a symbolic expression of distress over the destruction of Zion and the feeling of inhabiting a world that is hastening to its end.

In this paper, I will employ Jasbir K. Puar’s concept of “homonationalism” in order to investigate how Paul’s use of imperial language in 1 Thess. 4:13-5:11 is closely related to his mapping of sexually pure space in 4:1-8. As Melanie Johnson-DeBaufre has pointed out in her work on the Thessalonian wo/men, scholarship on 1 Thess. 4:13-5:11 traditionally privileges issues of empire while ignoring the gendered and sexual language that is also present. In opposite fashion, discussions of 4:1-8 typically privileges discussions of sexuality while ignoring its connections to imperial ideology. It cannot be assumed that Paul’s use of imperial ideology is restricted to those passages in which such language is explicitly present, and the close proximity of Paul’s sexual and eschatological exhortations indicates that his thoughts regarding “sexual morality” should be considered in light of empire. Both passages appeal to elite imperial strategies that rely on the maintenance of group boundaries as well as sexual and ethnic others. Using Puar’s concept of homonationalism, which connects sexual exceptionalism and nation and marks collusion between gay/queer subjects and nationalist projects and rhetoric, I will attempt to integrate the interests in gender/sexuality and empire in these two (usually separated) passages. In so doing, I will draw from the work of scholars, such as Joseph A. Marchal and Davina C. Lopez, who have proposed more “intersectional” analyses of Paul’s letters in order to remain fully attentive to the interactions and layerings of gender, race, sexuality, and empire. By demonstrating how his rhetoric weds his communities’ values with those of the imperial elite, I will show how 1 Thessalonians risks engendering a brand of “homonationalism” via Paul’s sexual politics. Considering Puar’s work on assemblages and queer politics alongside debates about Paul’s view of empire and possible reconstructions of the Thessalonian ekklesia demonstrates the ways that counter-cultural sexual identity can easily become a space for empire.

The most important work on the genre of Fatimid-Ismaili ta'wil is a recent article by Meir Bar-Asher entitled “Outlines of early Ismaili-Fatimid Qur'an Exegesis” (Journal Asiatique 2008: 257-295). He argues that similar to the exegesis of pre-Buyid Imamis in the early tenth century, Fatimid-Ismaili ta'wil was intended to authorize the Fatimids’ Imams and doctrines by identifying them with past prophetic figures and themes in the Quran. Just as the Imami Furat ibn Ibrahim al-Kufi (d. 934) interpreted verses of the Quran to sanction the Imams, condemn their enemies, and confirm Imami Shi'ism’s doctrines, so too did Ismaili ta'wil authorize Ismaili heroes and themes. Similar to the Imamis, the Ismailis employed typology and allegory to confer legitimacy on the sect’s key figures and doctrines and polemicize against the heroes of their Sunni and caliphal enemies. Pace Bar-Asher, in this presentation I argue that typological exegesis, a term generally associated with scholastics, is inadequate for describing the role of ta'wil in Ismailism. Through close analysis of ta'wil of the stories of Adam and Noah in works ascribed to the Ismaili missionary Ja'far b. Mansur al-Yaman (d. before 969) and al-Qadi al-Nu'man (d. 974), I frame ta'wil as a genre missionaries employed to convert and train initiates. Through ta'wil, Ismaili missionaries engendered a symbolic world and mode of thinking conducive to communal allegiance and maintenance of the mission in the face of competing claims by other Shi'ite sectarians.

Nineveh and the 1st-mill. Assyrian rulers are featured in various Aramaic literary traditions, which extend from Egypt to Armenia and range from the mid-1st. mill. BCE to the end of the 1st. mill. CE. The stories of Tobit and Ahiqar portray Nineveh within the conflict between these characters and the kings Sennacherib and Esarhaddon. The “Tale of Two Brothers” (aka “The Revolt of Babylon”) from the Demotic Pap. Amherst 63 depicts the historical rivalry between the cities of Nineveh and Babylon and the two royal brothers, Assurbanipal and Shamash-shum-ukin. In later Christian Syriac traditions, Nineveh is both reviled and revered: it was the evil city from the days of Jonah, as well as the city of the great Assyrian ancestors, whose progeny converted to Christianity. Furthermore, reference to Nineveh in Syriac literature served as a device to bestow the legitimacy of antiquity onto the Eastern Church at a time when an even newer religion, Islam, was arriving on the scene.

Marcion of Smyrna, in the work commonly known as the Martyrdom of Polycarp, seeks to portray the death of Polycarp as a “martyrdom in accord with the Gospel” (1.1), in a context in which the relationship between Gospel and martyrdom appears to be a matter of dispute (cf. 4.2, “the gospel does not so teach”). The work, traditionally viewed as involving little more than a simplistic imitatio Christi, is in fact a sophisticated attempt to establish the authority of Polycarp as a charismatic and prophetic bishop, and then to conscript that authority in support of an understanding of martyrdom that interweaves elements of both imitatio Christi and imitatio Socratis together with Pauline themes and a positive appreciation of Greco-Roman virtues, in an effort to inculcate a particular vision of Christian identity as it relates to the increasingly contested and important topic of martyrdom.

The book of Esther is linguistically challenging, not due to any specific difficulty in reading or interpretation, but due to its elusive grammatical profile. Much of the text feels like one is reading Genesis or 2 Kings, yet strange features poke through in every chapter. It is due to these strange features—which can often be found in other books among the Ketuvim as well as the Mishnah—that the book has been characterized as “archaizing” (Polzin 1976). Much water has passed under the bridge since Polzin’s work, culminating in the last five years' heated debate about the historical stages of Hebrew and even the use of linguistic evidence in dating biblical texts. In this essay, we will provide a grammatical profile of the book of Esther, building upon and updating the valuable thesis by Robert Bergey (1983), and in the process offer a few methodological suggestions.

While biblical theology recognizes the centrality of Jesus in the inauguration and establishment of the kingdom, less attention has been paid to the fact that his accomplishment of this task as a human, as the image of God, becomes the key to the reestablishment of the kingdom of God (McCartney, “Ecce Homo,” WTJ 1994; Gunton, Christ and Creation). Even less attention is paid to the role that humans might have in the kingdom of God and its establishment. In response to the current imbalance, this essay will flesh out the NT’s anthropological approach to the kingdom of God. Humanity’s status as God’s royal images carries far-reaching implications for Christian identity, Christian praxis, and the present and future dimensions of the kingdom of God.

The primary role and title of Jesus in the Gospel of John is ‘Messiah.’ But the Gospel also portrays Jesus as (a) prophet at many points in the narrative, both explicitly and implicitly. It is increasingly clear to interpreters that the Gospels, including John, are stories, not collections of Christological statements or theological treatises. Our approach must be relational to fit both the dynamic interrelations and interaction in the Gospel story and those of the interactions of Jesus and his followers in which the story is grounded historically. After brief consideration of contemporary prophets who led movements of renewal, this presentation will survey key episodes in which Jesus acts and/ or is acknowledged as a prophet. Finally, comparisons with those contemporary prophets and with the portrayal of Jesus as prophet in Mark may suggest ways in which the episodes in John reflect basic memories of Jesus’ interaction with his followers and the rulers of “the Judeans.”

Over the last three years, a joint Anglo-German project has been working on an online environment which will support every stage of work on the new critical edition of the Greek New Testament, the Editio Critica Maior. From image display and XML transcription to collation, genealogical analysis and digital publication, the Workspace will provide a suite of tools for this “born digital” edition of the New Testament which may also be adapted for other textual traditions. The Workspace will be presented at two sessions in this Annual Meeting. As part of the Editio Critica Maior session there will be a walk-through demonstration of the various interfaces and processes. The present paper will consider some of the theoretical and editorial challenges which have arisen: whereas projects have previously tended to tailor existing software to meet a need, designing tools from scratch to match (and improve on) predefined standards has posed a different set of problems requiring significant editorial input. In addition, the development of the digital medium has led to new expectations of the process and outputs involved in making an edition, in order that editorial decisions may be transparent and that raw material may be available for future editions.

Unlike its Synoptic siblings, the Gospel of Mark pays scant attention to Mary the mother of Jesus. Where Mary does undeniably appear in Mark (3:31-35; 6:1-6a), it is not clear that the evangelist portrays her in a positive light. Examining 6:3 in particular, this paper argues that the majority of textual witnesses to 6:3 which names Jesus as the son of Mary (rather than the variant which identifies him as the son of the carpenter) should be preferred and that this reading, rather than suggesting an insult to Mary, may be seen as a subtle signal of the high esteem in which the evangelist holds the mother of Jesus and may provide a key for understanding her portrayal elsewhere in Mark. Explanations for the seeming oddity of identifying Jesus with a matronym in 6:3 have included an understanding of it as the Nazareth villagers casting doubt on the legitimacy of Jesus’ birth, a theological concern to preserve the idea of a virgin birth, a hint that Mary is a widow, or a suggestion that the evangelist is simply uninterested in the father of Jesus. Tal Ilan has already posited that the use of the matronym need not imply odium, and this paper builds upon that work in order to suggest that 6:3 may, in fact, provide a suggestion for how to understand Mark’s portrayal of Mary elsewhere. Despite contentions that Mark eschews the mother of Jesus or casts her in opposition to the real family who do the will of God (3:34-35), a reading of Mark 6:1-6 in light of other ancient uses of matronyms may reveal that the Gospel is more congenial to Mary than what its limited inclusion of her may imply.

The paper focuses on the relationship between Q 6:37-38 and the ancient concept of ‘psychostasia,’ which is the notion that a divine or supernatural figure weighs people’s souls when judging them. After introductory passages on both Q 6:37-38 and the concept of psychostasia, the paper continues to discuss intertexts from the Hebrew Scriptures, while paying particular attention to the occurrences therein of both the word ‘measure’ and the concept of ‘psychostasia.’ The implications of these results for our interpretation of Q 6:37-38 are briefly noted. The paper anticipates follow-up work which will focus on intertexts from apocryphal and pseudepigraphical writings that originated in second Temple Judaism and are dealing with psychostasia. The ultimate intent is to explain more comprehensively the implications of such intertextual investigations for the interpretation of Q 6:37-38 and the Sayings Gospel Q as a whole.

In the 1972 film Pink Flamingos, written and directed by John Waters, the character of Babs, played by drag queen Divine, fights to maintain her status as “the filthiest person alive.” The film ends with an infamous scene in which Babs, after demonstrating her filthiness through various transgressive acts, including sexual acts, eats a pile of dog feces. While Pink Flamingos is arguably one of Waters’ most controversial films, the linking of filth with queer identities is a recurring theme in his work. For Waters this connection provides opportunity for ideological interrogation and the unsettling cultural norms. Bad taste and the obscene function, moreover, as a tool for building queer communities that exist as both a site of support for the marginalized and of resistance to heterosexual hegemony. Like the films of Waters, the Book of Revelation links transgressive identity with images of filth, specifically in the image of the Great Whore. A metaphorical representation of Rome, the Whore fornicates with the kings of the earth, is drunk upon the blood of the saints, and carries a cup full of “unclean things” (Rev 17:4). By reading Revelation’s image of the Whore alongside of Waters’ works, we how this image, which draws upon an ancient association between filth and prostitution, challenges the authority of the Roman Empire. However, I will argue that by failing to fully embrace the possibility of bad taste, Revelation fails to reach the ideal offered queer existence by Waters.

Although the myth-and-ritual school of interpretation stood at the forefront of biblical and ancient Near Eastern studies for the first half of the twentieth century, the methodological presumptions of this approach have since been thoroughly critiqued. Such critiques have tended to contextualize the myth-and-ritual approach in terms of the thinkers whose work most immediately influenced it—men like Tylor, Frazer, and Robertson Smith. However, placing the myth-ritual school only within its immediate intellectual context does not go far enough. Many of the problematic methodological assumptions inherent in the myth-and-ritual approach can be traced further back, to the roots of the European Romantic movement. A better appreciation of this Romantic influence can make these methodological shortcomings more understandable to the modern commentator. This in turn will allow us to appreciate the positive contributions of the myth-ritual school, as well as to be mindful of the ways in which some of its fundamental assumptions may still be at play in the study of the Bible and the ancient Near East. This essay will briefly summarize the precepts of the myth-ritual school, outlining several interrelated methodological assumptions inherent in its approach to ancient myth and ritual. These assumptions include assertions about the scholar’s ability to surmise the essential characteristics of an ancient people from various cultural significata, the fundamental similarities of ancient peoples with regard to these essential characteristics, and the ease with which ritual and religious data from one culture could be assumed to apply to another. I will then examine the development of ideas which led to these assumptions, beginning with Romanticism and continuing to thinkers like Tylor, Smith, and Frazer, who are more widely noted as having influenced the myth-ritual school. Finally, I will engage the enthronement/New Year festival as a case study. As the ritual complex most closely associated with the myth-ritual school, examining it can show how the approach’s methodological assumptions influenced and continue to influence scholarly work on a putative cultic ceremony.

The ninth and eighth centuries BCE witnessed several polity changes in northern and central Trans-Jordan. The conquest, partial annexation and the continued presence of Imperial Assyria in the region, beginning with Tiglath-pileser III and lasting (with brief interruptions) until the reign of Ashurbanipal was by far the most significant and enduring of these polity shifts. The “footprints” of Assyrian influence and imperial control have been identified from the material cultural remains at various Trans-Jordanian sites. This archaeological evidence, coupled with information gleaned from historical sources will be presented and assessed in order to determine the cultural and geo-political impact of the Assyrian Empire upon one of Trans-Jordan’s most strategic and highly contested regions; the biblical hamishor (the modern Madaba Plains).

The study of divine revelations as attested in the Hebrew Bible and in the Mari texts of the Old Babylonian period illustrates the difficulty of actually discerning the experiences that underlie the reported divine communications and the process of distinguishing them from other experiences. Sleep laboratory research raises the issue that consciousness involves a “dynamic neuropsychological continuum” (J. A. Hobson). From the “brain-mind” base individuals can even voluntarily shift their “brain-mind” state in search of visions, hallucinations, dreams (Hobson) which then become contextually shaped by the recipient. In other words, revelations derive from non-specific neuropsychological experiences and acquire specificity through the contextual situation of the individual. In terms of revelatory messages from the divine world, secondary classifications arise that separate otherwise basically related phenomena. The Mari revelations have many points of contact between the reports of “dream” revelations and non-dream revelations, and their reception may be quite parallel, but no revelations reported as dreams are assigned to persons having a prophetic title (such as muhhûm/muhhûtum, “ecstatic”). Yet there are also many ways in which revelations assigned to dreams parallel the other revelations. Consequently, some scholars prefer to basically separate the two categories in the Mari texts--or in the Bible--whereas others group them together. In the Hebrew Bible some prophets claim exclusive connection with the deity and the divine council, the sod (e.g., 1 Kings 22; Jer 23:18, 22), thereby seeking to overrule other revelatory claims, whereas in other texts prophets are dismissive of “a vision of their mind/heart, (which is) not from the mouth of god” (Jer 23:16), which becomes a dismissal of dreams generally as “the deceit of their heart” (Jer 23:25-28, 32), as if their own prophecies derived from a neuropsychological base that is fundamentally different. Revelations that counter their own ideology are discredited as (common) dreams. The context of the Mari texts points to a higher status for communications through cult-centered “professionals” as opposed to “lay” persons appealing to the universal experience of dreams, whereas the prophetic traditions in Israel reflect a more ideological divide, separating “true” prophets--those claiming a special access to the divine--from rivals who disagreed, relegating the latter to “ordinary” experience of ecstasy or dreaming.

Both Oxford and Cambridge Universities named colleges after the body of Christ: Corpus Christi. Yet neither of the shields for two college’s shields display anything resembling Christ’s, nor for that matter, any other human person’s body. Instead, they both display an image of a pelican piercing its own breast to the point of shedding its blood. The image derives from an ancient belief that pelicans nourished, and sometimes even resurrected, their children with their own blood. The 4th/5th century theologian Augustine of Hippo relates the story as he'd heard it: "These birds are said to slay their young with blows of their beaks, and for three days to mourn them when slain by themselves in the nest: after which they say the mother wounds herself deeply, and pours forth her blood over her young, bathed in which they recover life. This may be true, it may be false: yet if it be true, see how it agrees with Him, who gave us life by His blood." (Augustine, Exposition on Psalms 102.8) In this paper I will trace the interpretation of the pelican in connection with the Cross of Christ in Christian theological texts dating back to the symbol’s probable origin in the Physiologus, a work sometimes attributed to the 4th century Greek theologian Epiphanius of Salamis, but which may date back earlier to the end of the 2nd century CE. In the process I will survey several examples of the pelican’s use in Christian art, as represented, for example, by fifteenth-century Italian processional crosses (such as those attributed to Alunno di Gozzoli and Neri di Bicci), Arma Christi images (scuh as Lorenzo Monaco’s "Man of Sorrows"[1404]), and Christ’s Cross as the Tree of Life images (such as is seen in the 13th/14th cent. manuscript from the West German Cistercian Abbey of Kamp, now in Yale’s Beinecke Library [MS 416, p. 1v]).

What difference does Jesus make for Matthew's understanding of the time he and his community inhabit?

2 Peter 1:1 introduces Peter as "Symeon Petros." The conjunction of this spelling of the apostle's given name ("Symeon" rather than "Simon") with the Greek version of his nickname ("Peter" rather than "Cephas") is unattested apart from this passage. Although this peculiarity has often been observed, its significance has not been clear. It has sometimes been proposed that this spelling of Symeon was meant to sound "Semitic" or "archaic." But a thorough survey of how Jewish and Christian authors spell the name shows this to be untenable. Careful attention to the various ways Peter's double name was represented in other texts, as well as a study of how Jewish texts written in Greek represented the Hebrew name "Shimon," reveals a far more complicated pattern than has previously been acknowledged. In fact, a few Jewish authors writing in Greek (or translating texts from Aramaic or Hebrew into Greek) alternate between the spelling "Simon" and "Symeon," sometimes even when referring to the same person or to members of the same family. Some of the instances when an author deviates from his standard spelling are especially suggestive for the interpretation of 2 Pet 1:1. In addition to isolating and comparing these antecedent examples, at least two other factors help explain the use of "Symeon Petros." One is the use of "Symeon" in Acts 15:14 (another case where the choice of names has often been poorly understood). The other is the growing notoriety, at the time 2 Peter was written, of Peter's great opponent, Simon Magus. As Syriac translations of the NT attest, there was careful effort to distinguish this Simon from Simon Peter by using different spellings for their names.

This paper investigates the transmission of literary traditions between Mesopotamia and China through the manuscript discoveries that were made at Turfan (Sinkiang Uighur Autonomous Province, China) between 1904-1907. Over 1000 fragments written in Syriac script were unearthed in the ruins of a former monastery of the Church of the East (Nestorian Church). This range of literature, written in Syriac and Christian Sogdian, highlights the monastery as a centre of learning. An especially rich repertoire of hagiographies and ascetical writings, including the Apothegmata Patrum, were translated from Syriac into Sogdian. These were made in response to the linguistic horizons of the monks as well as the wider community, since substantial Sogdian communities had settled in the Turfan oasis and China. By directly linking the monastery with the greater world of Christian monasticism, mysticism and asceticism in Mesopotamia and Egypt, they provide remarkable witness to the eastern transmission of key works. Much liturgical material, written in Syriac, was also found at Turfan. This conservative transmission was due to the fact that Syriac was (and still is) the liturgical language of the (Nestorian) Church of the East. It provided a cohesive thread in the ethno-linguistically diverse dioceses that stretched from Baghdad to Chang’an. Many early exemplars of the Hudra, the principal liturgical book of the Church of the East provide important insight into the development and transmission of the East Syrian liturgy during the medieval period, for which direct evidence is now scant. The Hudra was compiled in the seventh century, but underwent several revisions, the last being in the mid-13th century, the time of the Turfan monastery. With an overall dating between the 9th and 12th centuries, the manuscripts highlight the direct links that were maintained with the ‘mother church’ in Mesopotamia, yet simultaneously show assimilation of the rich ecclesiastical heritage within the ethno-linguistic matrix at Turfan. The monastery was just ‘one pearl’ in the dioceses dotting the Silk Route, but its remarkable yields give unparalleled insight into how Christian literature was transmitted ‘West’ to ‘East’.

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In the book of Numbers the Midianites have a bad image and are considered a dangerous enemy of Israel: a Midianite woman is said to be involved in the seduction of the Israelites by Moabite women in Peor (Num 25:6-18); this sin is looked upon so serious by Yhwh, that the deity demands a revenge war against the Midianites; this order is executed by the Israelites (31; cf. 25:16-18). Like in the story of Num 25 the Midianites are mentioned together with the Moabites in the preceding story of Balaam and play again the role of an enemy (cf. 22:4.7). As in the book of Exodus also in the book of Numbers Moses is said to have married a foreign wife. It is striking to see that in Numbers 12:1 this woman is not Midianate (as in Exodus) but Kushite. Midian’s image in Numbers strongly deviates from its positive depiction in the book of Exodus (cf. Exod 2:15-22; 3:1-5; 4:18-20; 18) which reports how Moses gets asylum in Midian, marries a wife from there and benefits from helpful political instruction from his father in law, the “priest of Midian”. How can this striking ideological shift from one book to the other be explained? The proposed paper strives to answer this question by a careful analysis of all concerned texts in Numbers.

Assumptions about marriage play an important role in feminist interpretations of 1 Timothy 5. We have often seen the encouragement of marriage in this passage (5:14) as part of a larger strategy to restrict women’s leadership in the church. Virginia Burrus’s book Chastity as Autonomy is a classic articulation of this perspective: women were under the authority of men when married and sought the ascetic life as a means of freedom. In this paper I reexamine marriage practices of the first and second centuries to argue against the easy equation of celibacy and freedom. Much of the evidence amassed by feminist historiographers of the past thirty years suggests that we need a more nuanced view of marriage and celibacy. I examine the abilities of married and unmarried women to own property, exert public influence, and to make basic decisions about their lives. I argue that, given the social structures and cultural norms of antiquity, women would not likely find increased independence in celibacy. In many cases, marriage offered women increased social status that could translate into forms of social power.

Martey E. (1993:44) and Manus C. (1998:4) have asserted that an expression of the African language and literature have certain implications for theological reflections in Africa. They argue that in any biblical passage, it is possible to find a message that addresses itself to an African audience, adding that African literary forms such as folklore, which is composed of traditional legends, beliefs, customs and fables, have functional relevance in the Bible. In locating the biblical discourse within the framework of African cultural expression, Ukpong advances the inculturation hermeneutics. This approach to biblical literary interpretation seeks to make the African, the subject of interpretation. He argues further that to make a specific socio-cultural context the central point of investigation means that the conceptual framework, its methodology and the personal import of the interpreter are consciously informed by the worldview of, and the life experience, within that culture. This paper is therefore, an attempt at broadening the conceptual frontiers.

Interpreters through the ages have suggested at least 23 distinct interpretations for the Name Command of the Decalogue (Exod 20:7; Deut 5:11). Most assume that the phrase “lift up the Name” is an elliptical expression. With the help of alleged parallel passages from the Bible or literature from surrounding cultures, scholars have attempted to fill in the missing information to make sense of the command (e.g. “lift up [your hand to] the Name,” or “lift up the Name [on your lips]”). However, none of the passages usually cited stands up under closer scrutiny. Few scholars have explored the possibility that the Name Command not elliptical at all, but a metaphor for bearing the Name of YHWH among the nations. This paper will situate each of the major elliptical interpretations of Exod 20:7 in relation to the others, highlighting the exegetical problems of each (including false oaths, pronunciation of YHWH’s Name, idolatry, magic, and false teaching), and demonstrating how the metaphorical reading of the command avoids each of these problems and provides a satisfying alternative that fits the covenant context. YHWH called upon Israel to bear his Name well so that the nations would bring him praise.

This paper will first analyze the role that the Secret Book of John (Ap. John) plays in the composition of the Nag Hammadi Codices II, III, and IV, and in Berlin Gnostic Codex (BG). That Ap. John occupies the first place among the writings included in the above-mentioned three Nag Hammadi codices testifies to its importance to fourth-century Egyptian readers. Often taken as the classical illustration of Sethian literature, Ap. John receives further interpretations and expositions in the Hypostasis of the Archons, and On the Origin of the World, two other texts of NHC II. Moreover, Ap. John is paired with the Holy Book of the Great Invisible Spirit (Gospel of the Egyptians) both in NHC III and NHC IV. Finally, Ap. John is associated with another text, the Wisdom of Jesus Christ, both in NHC III and BG. Second and conversely, the paper will consider the effects that the above codices as whole collections had over the reception of the Secret Book of John in fourth- and fifth-century Egypt. This paper will argue that the rest of the writings in these four codices were meant to unpack the multidimensional hermeneutic aspects of the Ap. John and explain them from a Christian ascetic perspective. It will also argue that the Secret Book of John derives its Christian features less from its superficial Christian narrative framework, and more from its association with Sethian and Christian documents. If we suppose that one of roles of the fourth-century biblical collections was to appropriate the Jewish material of the Septuagint and transform it into the Christian fulfillment of prophecies, while at the same time neutralizing it, one could also speculate that the Secret Book of John, the least Christian text in the above four collections met with a similar fate. It was added as a foundational myth to these four collections of texts, but it also became Christianized and domesticated by the other writings in the four codices.

As has often been noted, historical reconstruction of the Ebionites and Nazoraeans is significantly complicated by the fact that our central sources come from hostile outsiders. One of the primary challenges is the question of self-understanding. To what extent is it possible to recover, out of one group’s efforts to construct heretical ‘others’, evidence for how the rival groups themselves constructed ‘us’ and ‘other’? This paper will explore this problem by examining the role of naming strategies in the early reports about Ebionites and Nazoraeans, with special focus on “Jew” and “Christian” as terms of identity.

This paper explicates respects in which notions of ‘public reason,’ which have figured prominently in recent theorizing about the liberal polity, are unhelpfully and improperly restrictive with regard to the place and the role of religiously grounded considerations in public political discourse and deliberations. They are unhelpfully restrictive because religiously grounded ideas and commitments have been—both historically and conceptually—crucial supports of the liberal polity, and they can continue to be supports, especially because of how they can figure in persons’ moral education. They are improperly restrictive because they fail to recognize ways that religiously grounded considerations are amenable to rational justification. In at least one important understanding of Judaism, which I shall discuss, seeking a rational comprehension of the commandments is itself a fundamental commitment. That does not mean that all of the commandments do indeed have plausible rational justifications. But there are important respects in which Jewish thought is an excellent example of how the particularism of a tradition can be a source of rationally elaborated values and principles of the kind that well-serve the liberal political-legal order. A broadly Maimonidean conception of the ‘reasons of the commandments’ and its relevance to the modern liberal polity will be described. The discussion is a conceptual diagnosis of public reason’s failure to acknowledge the intelligibility of religiously grounded considerations in ways that deny the liberal polity significant and rationally appropriate supports.

From Johnny Cash resetting the Nine in Nails song “Hurt,” to Whitney Houston transforming Dolly Parton’s “I Will Always Love You,” the “cover song” (also called a “cover version”) has become a significant feature in popular music. This paper explores potential insights that the concept of the cover song has to contribute to those who work to understand the psalms in their biblical context, as well as to those who work to understand how the psalms function today in communities where they are still performed. Drawing on theoretical frameworks that are being developed by scholars who study popular music, this paper will explore how concepts such as “generic resetting,” “appreciation conditions,” “listener expectation,” and “artist appreciation” can contribute to interpretation and performance of the psalms.

Origen treats the parable of the sower (Mt 13:1-23 and parallels) as paradigmatic of Christ’s esoteric pedagogy. This view is puzzling, however, for two reasons. First, Quintillian derides a similar extended metaphor as a commonplace and tired cliche (Institutiones 8.3.75). Second, Jesus’ interpretation of the parable, though framed as a private conversation, is publicly recorded in the church’s scriptures. How could a possibly banal and certainly public parable have been read as esoteric? I argue that the answer to this question lies in Origen’s practice of harmonization. The harmony of the emerging canon was a hot issue in the 2nd and 3rd centuries CE. Scholars have often observed Origen’s general concern with harmony and his practice of using scriptural texts from one context to illuminate a text in another, calling it pejoratively ‘proof-texting’ or more neutrally ‘cross-referencing.’ But scholars have not sufficiently attended to the harmonizing character of this procedure, i.e. Origen’s attempt to show how texts that share a referent do not contradict one another. Because, as Frances Young has observed, Origen generally treats scriptural symbols as consistent in their spiritual referent, Origen’s allegory becomes a mode of harmonization. This helps make sense of Origen’s esotericism: scripture is esoteric because it is fragmentary, its deeper meanings revealed in the process of bringing fragmentary texts into a unity. I demonstrate this in the case of Origen’s comments on the parable of the sower in extant fragments of his Commentary on Matthew. First, I discuss two brief examples of Origen’s use of ancient grammatical criticism (to grammatikon) to show the literal harmony of Jesus’ words in the parallel synoptic versions. I then consider four examples in which Origen comments allegorically by introducing other scriptural texts. Origen assumes that these texts refer to the same seed, path, rocks, and thorns of which Jesus spoke. This allows him to use them to embellish or fill perceived gaps in Jesus’ explicit interpretation. Moreover, he uses these text to constitute an extended harmonized seed narrative that begins with plowing and ends with the burning of fruitless growth. By so doing, Origen treats the parable as a fragment of a larger harmonious story, analogous to the relation of particular gospels to Tatian’s Diatessaron. The esoteric sense of the parable is thus hidden in plain sight: it is constituted out of materials scattered throughout the scriptures, brought together and illuminated through the work of the Christian scholar.

This paper explores the role that Polydeukion and his mentor Herodes Atticus played in the decoration and use of a Roman Bath in the Sanctuary of Poseidon at the Isthmus of Greece. It will strive to show how the sanctuary transformed during the Hadrianic and Antonine periods into one that offered several avenues to salvation through the worship of handsome and heroic young men. A tantalizing group of sculptural fragments from the upper sanctuary suggests a cult of Antinoos that would have been instituted at the time of the construction of the Hadrianic Temple of Palaemon. The panhellenic Isthmian Games were founded in honor of Palaemon, a member of the royal family of Orchomenos who suffered the wrath of Hera and drowned at a young age. Antinoos was likely worshiped at the Isthmus in association with Palaemon, since both drowned tragically in their youth and were heroized, if not deified. Portraits of Polydeukion from the Roman Bath can be interpreted in light of a second-century CE revival of cults honoring dead youths at Poseidon’s Isthmian shrine. Like Antinoos and Palaemon, Polydeukion died in the prime of his youth, and as Hadrian did for Antinoos, Herodes Atticus mourned openly for his favorite student. Archaeological evidence from other sites in Greece will illuminate Herodes’ penchant for introducing hero cults of Polydeukion, frequently in the context of baths.

Writing in 570 CE, the Pilgrim of Piacenza recalled visiting the historical Cana of Galilee and detailed a ritual of veneration that included reenacting the Gospel of John’s description of the wedding feast and the transformation of the water into wine (Jn 2:1-11). Literary evidence from Christian pilgrims of the sixth century through the medieval era pointed to a physical site, Khirbet Qana, as the biblical Cana of Galilee mentioned by the Pilgrim of Piacenza. Pilgrim accounts such as this illustrate the importance of proximity to miracles of Jesus, as well as documenting the relevance of material culture and iconography. The Pilgrim of Piacenza states that he reclined on a couch at one point during the ritual (and also notes that he contributed to the existing graffiti by writing his mother and father’s names on the couch). Recent archaeological surveys of Khirbet Qana have uncovered plentiful evidence of human activity, particularly in Late Antiquity and continuing into the medieval era. A veneration cave complex has been recently excavated at Khirbet Qana that includes graffiti crosses, inscriptional evidence, as well as makeshift altars that are congruent with ritual descriptions in the pilgrim accounts. Our continuing dig at this site reveals the importance of Khirbet Qana as a pilgrimage destination for travelers on the way to Jerusalem. After briefly explaining the connection between Khirbet Qana and the Cana of John’s gospel, this paper intends to relate recent evidence from our excavation of the cave complex at Khirbet Qana. This paper will examine the iconography and material evidence at the site, exhibiting its connection to the pilgrim accounts, as well as introduce textual evidence from the fifth and sixth centuries that show the site’s relationship with neighboring Sepphoris and the bishopric in Jerusalem. The cave complex at the site holds great promise for deepening our understanding of the architectural, artistic, economic, and political impact of Christian pilgrimage on Galilee in Late Antiquity and beyond. This paper will argue that Khirbet Qana was a popular and important destination that contributed to the burgeoning devotional enterprise of Christian pilgrimage while having an immediate and tangible impact on Late Antique Galilee.

The popularity of pavement mosaics depicting gladiatorial bouts and bestiarii pitted against wild animals demonstrates the centrality of these violent entertainments in North African society. This paper discusses the parallels between the verbal and visual depictions of the games’ combatants and Christian martyrs, who were often similarly pitted against human or animal opponents. Although Christians were urged to eschew such spectacles, analogous presentations of heroic champions for the faith and their brave and bloody battles with supernatural as well as earthly foes characterized the accounts of martyrdom and, arguably, sustained a culture of “sacred violence.”

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In this paper I wish to consider the biblical conception of God as king in order to address some of the pitfalls inherent in identifying such a root notion of biblical religion as metaphor. In modern scholarship, monotheism, like any other religion, is more often than not regarded as a symbolic system through which biblical writers conceived and expressed the operation and meaning of the world and the self, as a cultural matrix through which they sought to communicate with members of their community. In this way, metaphor is considered as playing a crucial role in the formation of this symbolic system. For example, the royal metaphor, or biblical Basilemorphism, in which God is conceived of as king, the universe as his dominion, and humans as custodians of his dominion, is understood as giving structure to this system. Such an approach, despite its profundity and appealing sophistication, seems inadequate if one seeks to understand this religion from within. For the biblical God is thereby reduced to (just) a concept or an idea within this metaphorical model. However, the lived experience of God as reflected in biblical literature is clearly premised on the realness of this deity and his reign, not as a symbol or metaphor, but rather as a real living person with unparalleled authority who interacts with humans in all his fullness. I will use works by such scholars as Franz Rosenzweig, Abraham Heschel, and Yochanan Muffs to develop an alternative approach to the phenomenology of biblical religion.

Although ritual theory attempts to assess the beliefs that engender ritual participation, less attention has been paid to a constructive view of how ritual figures into a comprehensive epistemology. While ritual is not merely aimed at one goal—socio-political, metaphysical, transactional, etc.—a ritual as a complex of actions represents a nexus of outcomes, one of which is learning. But as Anne Porter has recently suggested, the knowledge that might be constructed through participation in ritual is not a "one-to-one relationship" between the action and a belief. Rituals are epistemologically rich and so the epistemic goals of participation cannot be reduced to discrete propositional beliefs. For instance, Leviticus states that one goal of celebrating Sukkot is epistemic, so that Israel's generations would know that YHWH made Israel to live in booths during their flight from Egypt (Lev 23:41). The bare fact of Israelite tent-living can be easily known merely by recounting the story to their children. However, there is a distinctly different epistemic goal of knowing something about the Exodus that can only be known through embodied participation in Sukkot. Because the final epistemological objective cannot always be clearly articulated (i.e., what precise knowledge is meant to be known by tent-living during Sukkot), we will not focus on a product called knowledge, but instead focus on the text's insistence that there is a logical gap between knowing and not knowing that can only be bridged by Israelite participation in the prescribed ritual. This paper makes a small but significant contribution to the idea that Israel's rituals function epistemologically, specifically intent to bring Israelites to know reality, themselves, their covenant with YHWH, and more. Further, I will sketch a more robust epistemological process (which is part of a larger project) within which rituals play a pivotal role and that can also account for other types of knowing described throughout the Tanakh.

James Barr once wrote, "The reader of the LXX gains the impression that, very generally speaking, the matter of verb tense was well handled." In many, if not most cases, the translators did not struggle with what tense to use in translating Hebrew verbs and proceeded along what Barr calls the "normal" patterns. For example, the Hebrew wayyiqtol is normally translated with a Greek aorist indicative. Barr argued that in most cases the translators were dependent upon context to determine tense. This paper discuses the interesting translational phenomenon of the varying use of verb tense in 1 Rgns. 17:34-37. In this passage the translator varies between the use of the imperfect and the use of the aorist without any justification from his source text. After an analysis of the possible reasons for this variation it is suggested that the best way to account for this is that translator's own narrative sensitivity led him to employ these verb forms in a manner that is consistent with verbal patterns found in compositional Greek literature, highlighting foregrounded and backgrounded action. The translator has thus faithfully rendered his Vorlage in terms of lexical choice, but in varying the verb tense of the action has added a level of narrative dynamism that would be appreciated by a Greek audience.

This presentation will reveal the results of my flipped classrooms in Biblical Hebrew. Teaching in a theological setting requires flexibility in giving students time to learn material at their own pace. By having the students review the lessons on their own, the classroom time will focus on the exercises, clarification of grammar, and reading Biblical Hebrew from the Hebrew script fluidly. I will use the textbook, Introducing Biblical Hebrew by Allen P. Ross (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Academic, 2001) and its companion website animatedhebrew.com, to instruct students in Biblical Hebrew grammar.

This paper will explore daily religious practices in households with both Christian and non-Christian members, with a focus on meals. I will consider in particular the positions of subordinate members of the household (mostly wives and slaves) who may have been incorporating Christian practices into their various household activities. One example of this is the reserved sacrament, or the practice of transporting bread from communal meals with other Christians into one’s own household and consuming it before a meal. I will explore how this and other practices influence social hierarchies in the household and establish Christianity as a household cult along with others.

This paper will trace the influence of apocryphal literature, in its apocalyptic strains, on the formation and polity of early Christian ascetic communities. It will argue that the conceptual residue of apocryphal visions of paradise, hell, and, crucially, the judgment which consigns souls to one or the other, is clearly discernible across a range of formative and popular monastic texts, such as the Vita Antonii, the Apophthegmata Patrum. These texts are peppered with references to the judgment of souls—some passing, some sustained—which draw apocryphal material into a new context and calling as part of the formation of a monastic lifestyle. Treatments, particularly of post-mortem judgment, delineate individuals’ identities through the particular vices and virtues emphasized but, in so doing, also contour the polity of the wider reading community in which these individuals lived. This paper will focus particularly on Dorotheus of Gaza, whose twelfth homily exhorts care in the monastic vocation through elaboration of a sustained vision of death and judgment. This vision draws heavily on the great hierarch John Chrysostom, the great heretic Evagrius Ponticus (in both cases drawing on apocalyptic literature) and the rather ambiguously received apocalyptic works such as the Visio Pauli and the Apocalypsis Sophronii. Thus, we can trace both direct and indirect influence in Dorotheus’ though, and, moreover, since he explicitly frames matters of death and judgment as quaestiones disputatae, Dorotheus also implicates the range of dogmatic assertion and so subtly articulates the place within which apocryphal and apocalyptic visions operate for the community. I shall show, then, that Dorotheus’ homily testifies to the lingering—and, indeed, formative—influence of apocryphal material into later centuries.

The marriage between Ruth and Boaz (Ruth 4) is a perennial problem in discussions of biblical law. Despite Boaz’s apparent portrayal of the marriage as a levirate marriage, the relationship clearly fails to adhere to key stipulations in Deut 25. Additionally, there is no direct association in the Pentateuchal codes relating land redemption with levirate marriage, but again, just such a connection appears to be foundational in Boaz’s transaction at the city gate. Scholars have proposed a number of solutions dealing with one or both of these issues, but as participants in the debate interpret the same data in different ways, no convincing solution has emerged. In an effort to take a new approach to this old problem, then, I will examine the marriage between Tobias and Sarah in the book of Tobit and its parallels with the marriage of Ruth and Boaz. I will argue that, as the text of Tobit deals with the implications of disparate law codes, so the book of Ruth also demonstrates the interaction of apparently unrelated laws in the lives of biblical characters.

Despite the many points of similarity between pagans and their Christian contemporaries, a major difference lay in their attitude towards sacrifice. For pagans animal-sacrifice was an essential part of religion, whereas Christians regarded such sacrifice as superseded by Christ’s self-sacrifice, commemorated in the central rite of the Eucharist. The debate on this subject revolved largely around the question of blood and its significance, and this paper explores the meaning of blood in the thought of pagans and Christians.

Psalm 1 attests to the continuous reinterpretation of torah in early Judaism. This introductory poem is a specimen of reception history, as it devotionalizes the Deuteronomic torah and “pentateuchizes” the Psalter. As a continuation of the psalm’s textual development, the early reception history of Ps 1 witnesses to the ongoing reinterpretation of torah and to the constancy of its transformation. This paper focuses on the theological transformation of torah in Psalm 1 and in the psalm’s reception history in Ben Sira, 1/4QInstruction, Justin’s Dialogue with Trypho, and Irenaus’s Against Heresies. The diversity of interpretations in these traditions highlights the flexibility of the term and its hermeneutical potential for early Jewish and Christian communities. In addition, it suggests that the wide diversity of interpretations of torah in Ps 1:2 by modern scholars need not be seen as a flaw to be resolved but as a natural continuation of the psalm’s own process of torah-reception.

The majority of Hebrew Bible studies dealing with the portrayal of intermarriage focus on Pentateuchal texts, as well as Ezra-Nehemiah. Knoppers is one of the few scholars who have investigated this phenomenon in the Books of Chronicles. In at least two studies he has focused on signs of intermarriage in the genealogy of Judah in 1 Chronicles 1-9. My contribution will look at the royal narratives of Chronicles in order to see whether another view on the phenomenon of intermarriage (compared to Ezra-Nehemiah) emerges there. Special attention will be given to the indication in the Solomon narrative that the king did not let his Egyptian wife live in David's palace.

It has almost become a truism to say that the ground in Gen. 1-11 is a character in its own right. While many scholars repeat this insight, few explore it in depth. What is gained by presenting the ground as a character, an agent capable of interacting with others? What motivates the writer of Genesis to make the ground a third party in the human-divine drama? In this paper I will address these question by looking at the story of Cain and Abel in Gen. 4:1-16, paying particular attention to vv. 9-12. My central claim is that Genesis 4:1-16 responds to an important question raised Genesis 1 and 2, namely: does the intimate connection between humans and the ground mean that the ground mirrors or aids human action, regardless of the nature of that action? More specifically, to what extent does the ground participate in human disobedience? By looking at the interactions between Cain, Abel, God and the ground in Gen. 4:1-16, I argue that Gen. 4 presents the ground as an agent responsive first and foremost to God’s will, thus resisting and frustrating human disobedience and violence. The first section of the paper compares Cain to Adam and Noah, as these three characters are unique in Genesis for their close associated with the ground, the second provides a close reading of Gen. 4:1-16, focusing on Cain’s relationship with the ground, and the third section compares Gen. 4 to Gen. 1, in particular v. 1:28 and the command to subdue the earth and rule over the creatures.

Vegetarianism and the rejection of animal sacrifice are prominent and distinctive features in a number of Jewish Christian texts and traditions. “Jewish Christianity” is, of course, a slippery term and phenomenon, but it seems reasonable to suppose that there is a causal link between these common features. Why did Jewish Christian authors claim that Jesus had “abolished” the sacrificial system? Why didn’t they take direction from the rabbinical tradition which continued to revere the Temple, now commemorated in the Mishnah, and hope for the restoration of the Temple? Conversely, why didn’t they adopt the Gentile Christian claim that Jesus’ death replaced the Temple sacrifices? In this paper I would like to take several soundings in the Jewish Christian tradition, probing for a cogent interpretive key that might unlock the reasons for these unusual perspectives. In particular, I propose that a hermeneutic of eschatological and messianic restoration - reminiscent of Jesus’ proscription of divorce in the early Jesus tradition (where “Jesus” does not allow what Mosaic law forbids but forbids what Mosaic law allows) - represents such a key, acknowledging divorce, animal sacrifice, and non-vegetarianism as temporary concessionary elements of the Mosaic law now corrected by the restored “law,” or Torah, of Creation.

Scholars of early Christianity have examined Christian identity as a place of malleability and negotiation. One way Christians identified themselves was as “other.” In his book, Sojourners and Aliens: Self as Other in Early Christianity, Ben Dunning writes: “alien status becomes itself a site of a compelling doubleness: it retains its negative connotations of social estrangement and marginality, while also, and at the same time being refigured as a ‘mark of excellence, a source of power’ – thus a double useful resource around which to figure the complexities of identity” (Dunning, 7). This kind of “rhetorical maneuvering” is found in Hebrews where dis/placed and strange bodies are employed in the imaginative construction of Christian identity. Indeed, Hebrews calls its audience to embrace an identity of liminality, describing the faithful ancestors as “strangers and foreigners” (11:13) for whom God prepared a “better country” (11:16), and promised a heavenly city (11:16). These exemplars of the faith go about “in sheep- and goat-skins, being destitute, afflicted, tormented…wandering in deserts, and mountains, and in caves and holes in the earth” (11:37-38). The audience is encouraged to imitate their forebearers and accept this liminal, spatially constructed identity. The author creates a Christian geography, ultimately exhorting the audience to go “outside the camp” (13:13) because they have “no lasting city.” As such, the question of place and placelessness is a significant feature of Christian identity in this text. “Placing” Christians outside of time and occupying strange spaces results in an identity that is not only mobile, but one that is also fragile. Drawing on social and literary theory concerning spatiality, empire studies, and scholarship on early Christian identity formation, I will examine how exploring space and place in Hebrews can further elucidate both the alien motif in early Christianity and how embracing alterity, blurring the boundaries between inside and out, remains a dangerous although at times necessary means of survival, particularly in an urbanized imperial context.

Without a doubt, the Temple building is the heart of Solomonic reign in the both histories, the Deuteronomistic as well as the Chronistic, and considered the most essential achievement of the king. Both historians spend the majority of their accounts on Solomon’s reign in detailing the preparations for the building, the construction of it, and its inauguration. This paper will point out the essential similarities and differences of the two accounts and the purpose(s) that let to them.

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Exod 32:9 is a verse that is present in the MT, SP and 4Q22, but not in the LXX. It is copied from Deut 9:13. Formally, the large expansions in the SP can be compared to this case, and this presentation will review relevant material that puts this MT-case of textual expansion into context. The expansions in MT-Jeremiah and other material are of interest. Does this expansion take us behind the pre-Samaritan and Samaritan texts?

It is generally thought that the expansions within the Greek recension of 3 Reigns revolve around Solomon’s wisdom and provide a white-washing of the Solomonic accounts. But why are the Solomonic accounts being white-washed, and what exactly is accomplished by reworking the biblical texts which revolve around Solomon’s wisdom? These are the questions which I would like to take up here. A number of significant expansions present themselves as one reads through the Greek text of Kings vis-à-vis the MT, but only four expansions occur specifically when the wisdom of Solomon is mentioned: 1 Kings 2:35, 46; 4:34; 10:22 (according to the English versification). Of these four passages, space only allows treatment of the first two, 1 Kgs 2:35 and 2:46. Each passage will be assessed in an exegetical manner, comparing the Greek with the Hebrew. I will argue that these two additions “revolve around Solomon’s wisdom” in an effort to broaden the kind of wisdom Solomon possessed by “whitewashing Solomon’s sins” and portraying him as one obedient to the Torah. By doing so, the editor of the Greek recension presents a text that holds up Solomon as a figure who had a kind of wisdom more in accord with the Sitz im Leben of the community in which the recension occurred, in that one who is wise obeys Torah. The results of this study have relevance for the date and provenance of the recension by providing a terminus ad quem, since the inclusion of following the Torah as requisite for wisdom likely dates to Hellenistic times.

This paper examines the use of metaphors of women’s bodies to discuss matters of time from the Hebrew Bible through second temple, rabbinic and early Christian sources. Metaphors of pregnancy, labor, and birth are often invoked in relation to the anticipation of a nearing eschatological time: early themes linking the suffering of labor to the chaos at the end of time found in biblical texts (including 2 Kings 19, Isaiah 26, 42, and 66, Jeremiah 13 and 49, Hosea 13, Micah 4-5 and Psalms 48) are further developed in evocative passages in 4 Ezra 4, Mark 13, Romans 8, and tractate Sanhedrin of the Babylonian Talmud. Metaphors of women’s bodies are also used when discussing calendrical time, including the observation of moons and the sanctification of new months, especially in early rabbinic texts. In all of these sources, the temporality of women’s bodies becomes a particularly apt metaphor for tapping the abstract and often fleeting idea of time - what is fascinating is the application of such embodied, physical metaphors to describe inherently intangible ideas about time, such as waiting, anticipating, delaying, accelerating and eventually fulfilling. Ironically, though, the particular instances in which women’s bodies are invoked – eschatological and calendrical time – are ones in which actual women usually do not participate (according to rabbinic law and theology, for example, women seem not to play an active role in hastening the redemption, nor are they permitted to serve as witnesses for a full moon), and the use of such metaphors of the female body might even contribute to the exclusion of real women from partaking in the processes described. This paper thus explores both the use and development of metaphors of female bodies to describe temporal processes and suggests a new way of understanding ancient conceptions of the calendar and the eschaton.

The verse 1 Kgs 11:34 is found in altogether eleven different forms in the Septuagint manuscripts – plus in yet another one in a quotation by Lucifer of Cagliari. There are numerous text-critical as well as literary critical problems in the verse. The paper presents an analysis of those problems with a special emphasis on the following issues: A. How does the subject matter (the division of the kingdom of Solomon) and the wider context (Solomon’s errors and Jeroboam’s rebellion) affect the textual changes? B. What are the special challenges in text-critical decision-making when the witnesses give exceptionally many different text forms? C. Why should both textual and literary critics be interested in Lucifer of Cagliari?

This paper explores possible influences from Persian (Zoroastrian) practices on biblical purity laws (Leviticus and Numbers). The latter are compared on the one hand to traces of pre-exilic purity practices in the Deuteronomistic History, and on the other hand to Zoroastrian practices as reflected primarily in the Vendidad. Special attention is given to those instances in which priestly purity law becomes detailed and specific. It is argued that these particular instances are pointers to recent developments and elaborations during the Achaemenid era, which go beyond previous practices in being influenced by Persian culture. Broad explanations for this process are indicated, including socio-political and religious factors, group identity concerns and postcolonial concepts, such as hybridity and mimicry.

Rhetorical narratology (RN, as I have envisioned it, insists on two fundamental distinctions: between story and discourse (content and presentation) and between the actual author and the person whom an audience infers to be speaking or writing (often termed the “implied author”). These distinctions in turn facilitate consideration of how a particular text invokes a particular type of reader (“implied reader”) whose attitude toward the text provides a standpoint for the actual audience. What I propose is to use RN to look at the letter of Jude in order to pose questions such as these. (1) What conventions would probably have constrained the writer of an encyclical letter at this time? (2) How might the intended audience have understood the writer’s description of his writing situation (verses 3-4)? (3) What purposes are served by reminding readers that they already know the history that he rehearses in verses 5-7? (4) How does the privileging of truthfulness that’s basic to an encyclical influence what this writer constructs (offers to implied readers) as “relevant”? The goal will be to see how RN may serve as a dialogue partner for sociorhetorical interpretation, especially at the level of "narrational texture".

Imperial rhetoric and imperial reality are always different things. The empire speaks of natural harmony; the reality is environmental rape. The empire speaks of sustainability; the reality is unsustainable “development.” Paul’s letter to the Romans takes on the imperial ideology of creational renewal under Nero in a rhetorically grand and sweeping manner. The question is, why? Why, in a letter to those who live in a city at the heart of the empire, does Paul feel a need to emphasize the groaning of creation and the hope for creational restoration and bodily resurrection? Rather than focusing primarily on Romans 8, this paper will engage texts on creational revelation and idolatry (1.19-25, 2.12-16; 10.18), covenantal promise (4.1-25, esp. 4.13), and creational groaning and redemption (8.18-25), together with an appeal to Paul’s character ethic (chapter 12) to demonstrate not only why creational renewal is at the heart of the gospel that Paul was proclaiming to the Romans, but also why the witness of creation is essential to that gospel. Throughout, Paul’s allusions to Genesis, the Psalms and Isaiah will provide a rich intertextual background for the creational ethic that Paul is nurturing at the heart of the empire. These allusions to the scriptures of Israel will also reveal the connection between economic injustice and creational abuse both in Israel’s story and in the history of Rome. Paul’s call to economic justice in chapters 12-15, therefore, also engenders an environmental ethic that is as important for those who live at the heart of empire today as it was for the first recipients of Paul’s letter.

This paper will address contributions of memory studies to Jesus research in the areas of the transmission of the Gospel tradition and questions of historicity. In both of these areas, memory studies insist upon a different role for interpretive categories in the scholarly edifice. I will argue that memory studies, in and of themselves, do not favor the reliability or unreliability of the Gospel tradition. Rather, they suggest that typical scholarly attempts to makes those types of decisions for the past century have failed to appreciate the complexity of the transmission of the Jesus tradition.

This paper will survey a range of recent discussions of Christian origins, paying particular attention to the rationales implicit in various scholars' demarcation of the temporal limits and historiographical boundaries of Christian origins. If "origins" is a useful heuristic concept, how and why do we distinguish between origins and the rest of early Christian history, and what is at stake in the creation of such distinctions?

The theme of obedience to God is by no means considered a marginal aspect of the ethics of the Hebrew Bible. Notwithstanding, it is remarkable how often obedience shows up in the margins of texts, particularly when the theme does not always play a fundamental role in developing the ethical perspectives within (e.g., Gen 2-3; Josh 1:7-8; 24:1-28; Psalm 1; Eccl 12:13; 2 Kgs 23:1-3, 21-25). What ethical role(s) does obedience play in the margins of biblical texts? How do these texts along the periphery shape the reading of the material within, and how might the material within shape our understanding of their place and function? Is the centrality that obedience has achieved in the ethics of the Hebrew Bible a fringe benefit? Beyond addressing these questions related to the Hebrew Bible, this paper will raise questions concerning the relationship between the Hebrew Bible's marginal (not negligible) focus on obedience and its function in New Testament ethics.

The conscious elements of religion have received significant academic attention. Yet formal definitions of religion, spirituality, and belief have escaped any attempt to codify unitary concepts. This work proposes that we accept that religion has an unconscious. Applying “Dream Logic” to religious material opens new possibilities for understanding the polysemantic complex nature of religion, spirituality, and beliefs beyond the boundaries of theologies. Freud opened the study of a personal unconscious within the therapeutic relationship. He needed the idea of the unconscious to understand the trauma victims who came for therapy and healing. Once he had opened the idea of the unconscious using the phenomenological tools he learned from Brentano, Freud began to look at society and noticed that culture also gave evidence of unconscious processes, specifically repression. Derrida extended Freud's insight by demonstrating that texts and ideas also have an unconscious. For Freud and Derrida the unconscious appears to be richer, more complex, and profound than conscious experience. What I am calling “Dream Logic” was first proposed by Freud as “Kettle Logic” in the Interpretation of Dreams (1900). For Freud consciousness is based on the distinction of “either/or” while the unconscious, Freud argued, is based on the synthesis of “and”. Derrida built on the Freud's kettle logic and began to use the word “logic” in a very non-Cartesian manner. In the essay, “Faith and Knowledge,” Derrida wrote: “it condenses two traditional titles, entering into a contract with them. We are committed to deforming them, dragging them elsewhere while developing if not their negative or their unconscious, at least the logic of what they might have let speak about religion independently of the meanings they want to say.” (Acts of religion, 2002, p. 76) Derridean deconstruction employees a dream logic to let the unconscious of texts speak. Dream logic, although it may be known by other names, connects what consciousness keeps separate.

Four previous studies argued that the attacks on the Judean community in Alexandria in 38 CE erupted during Alexandria's iustitium (period of public mourning) for Caligula's sister Drusilla, who died in Rome on June 10. In this view, the Alexandrian crowds tried to install images of Drusilla and other members of the imperial household in the city's synagogues early in the iustitium. The Judean resistance insulted the imperial family. At the end of the iustitium, the Roman prefect Flaccus issued an edict to announce the Judean punishment. The subsequent violence was an official Roman response to the Judean crime. This paper suggests that the sensory pageantry in the funerary rituals for Drusilla helped stimulate both the initial installation of images and the ferocity of the violence that followed. The exhilarating fanfare during the parades of the Judean King Agrippa exacerbated the inversion later felt in the theatrical wails of grief that followed the news of Drusilla's death. This grief was intensified by ritual redecoration of local statues of Drusilla and other tangible confirmations of her death. Masks, shrouds, and costumes disguising ritual participants transformed them into embodied symbols of the Roman rulers celebrated in the funerary rites and insulted by the Judean resistance. Colorful military displays provoked increased heart rates and other physiological responses that heightened feelings of loyalty to the emperor and outrage at the Judean crime. Drusilla's deified presence seemed ubiquitous in the burning incense, smoke from the flaming pyre used in the "funeral of images," and the wafting sweetness of pools of flavored wine poured around her statues. Inhalation of these smells assured that the Alexandrian crowds would embody the revenge of Drusilla with the same diligence as predecessors acting out the wrath of Isis in tales of Egyptian oracles.

Although the Jerusalem Temple constitutes an important element both in Haggai and Zechariah 1-8, and although these two texts are rooted in common theological traditions (Zion, Priestly, Deuteronomic) and share an interest in the roles of Zerubbabel, Joshua, and the community, each presents a distinctive ideology of temple reconstruction. Furthermore, various approaches to the literary criticism of these texts have attempted to trace developments in these ideologies, both within each text and between them as a larger literary unit. This paper will examine the distinctive ideology of each text, and assess various proposals regarding their growth and development. Particular attention will be given to the perspective of these two texts against the backdrop of the socio-political context of early Persian Yehud and the broader patterns of temple (re)construction current in the ANE.

This paper will survey evidence for the early roots of the reading tradition reflected by the Tiberian vocalization. It will be argued that differences between the phonology or morphology of the Tiberian reading tradition and those of traditions of Hebrew attested from earlier periods do not necessarily demonstrate that the Tiberian is a later development but rather reflect a diversity of traditions that existed in antiquity. This applies to the reading of some elements of morphology, such as the pronominal suffixes. The 2ms. pronominal suffix, for example, is written –? –k but read –?? -?å¯, with a final vowel. The verbal inflectional suffix of the 2ms. is written –? –t without a final vowel letter but is read -??? -tå¯ with a final vowel. The 3ms. pronominal suffix on plural nouns is written –?? –yw with a medial yod, presumably reflecting a pronunciation such as –ew, but is read –??? -å¯w without the medial yod. The most satisfactory explanation for this phenomenon is that the reading was a separate layer of tradition that was closely related to, but nevertheless independent from, the tradition of the consonantal text. The vocalization of some pronominal suffixes offers insight into the background of the linguistic form of the reading tradition. The spellings ??- -kh, ??- -th and ?- -w are found in Qumran manuscripts and Hebrew epigraphic texts from the first millennium B.C.E. The spelling of these suffixes with the normal Masoretic type of orthography is also found in the Qumran and epigraphic texts, suggesting that two different traditions of reading the suffixes existed. Since these texts come from periods when Hebrew was still a living language, these differences could also be regarded as dialectal variations of Hebrew. The Septuagint, datable to the Second Temple Period, contains transcriptions of Hebrew words, mainly proper names, which appear to reflect a pronunciation that is more archaic than that of the Tiberian tradition. These transcriptions, for example, often have an /a/ vowel in an unstressed closed syllable (e.g. ?a??aµ) where in Tiberian Hebrew it has developed into an /i/ (???????). This, however, need not be interpreted as demonstrating the chronological antecedence of the Septuagint reading tradition, although it may reflect a typologically earlier stage of development. In the medieval manuscripts with Babylonian vocalization the /a/ vowel is often retained in such syllables where Tiberian vocalization has /i/, demonstrating that these two variant types of pronunciation existed in the Middle Ages and the same could be assumed to be the case at an earlier period. Some features in the transcriptions of the Septuagint and other early sources that differ from Tiberian phonology can, in fact, be explained as the result of convergence with the Aramaic vernacular, which was resisted by the standard Tiberian tradition.

Hebrews’ description of Sinai—the place to which his audience has not come—draws from Israel’s experience there as described in both Exodus 19–20 and Deuteronomy 4–5. This paper explores the function of the various allusions and citations from these texts in Hebrews 12:18–29 in order to discern their function in Hebrews’ contrast between Israel at Sinai and his listeners at Zion. I first discuss points of continuity and discontinuity between the Sinai narratives and Hebrews’ interpretation of them. Then, I engage particular points of discontinuity by examining the three-way intersection of Hebrews as reader of OT texts, Hebrews as Second Temple Jewish reader of OT texts, and Hebrews as Christian reader of OT texts. In other words, the cultural encyclopedia from which Hebrews 12:18–29 arises includes not only the Sinai narratives themselves, but also Second Temple eschatological traditions about Sinai, Moses, and Zion, and especially his belief that the coming of Jesus represented a fundamental shift in Israel’s covenant narrative. These three dynamics are necessarily linked at every point; we cannot isolate them so as to say “here Hebrews is simply parroting common ideas about a Sinai-like eschatological shaking of creation,” or “here Hebrews is arbitrarily downplaying Moses so as to exalt Christ,” or “here Hebrews is merely expounding upon his OT irrespective of Jewish and Christian assumptions.” And of course a fourth dynamic, the hoped-for rhetorical effect of the Sinai-Zion comparison on Hebrews’ recipients, stands at the crossroads of the other three. In order to accomplish that effect, Hebrews takes up Exodus and Deuteronomy in ways that are faithful to those texts themselves, comprehensible (though perhaps controversial) within his Second Temple milieu, and ultimately governed by his belief that Jesus, the one like-yet-unlike Moses, has led Israel once more to the mountain of God.

The application of Teaching Proficiency through Reading and Storytelling (TPRS) to Koine Greek is an exciting development coming from modern language acquisition methodologies. It promises increased student interaction and attention during classroom time, both for comprehensible input and student production. This can result in significantly increased efficiency but it also places new challenges and responsibilities on a teacher. At an intermediate level TPRS can be applied effectively to the reading of (un-altered) ancient texts--the primary goal of Koine Greek instructors. In addition to classroom use, this method has also been used for two years in a web environment through Google Plus. The two and one-half hour session will interlace an overview of the methodology with live demonstrations and an opportunity for broad questions and answers.

While modern readers of the conquest narratives in the book of Joshua struggle with the ethical difficulties raised by their sanctioning of brutal violence on the part of ancient Israel, Jessie Penn-Lewis (1861–1927) found them an inspiring source for a charge to fellow Christian workers, first delivered as a series of addresses and later published as The Conquest of Canaan: Sidelights on the Spiritual Battlefield. Although she recognized the potential problems posed by these texts, her use of them was governed by two important exegetical principles: (1) Scripture interprets Scripture, and more particularly, the NT provides an interpretive grid for understanding the OT, and (2) all Scripture is useful for promoting spiritual growth. These principles led her to follow a long line of Christian interpreters in reading the conquest allegorically as a portrait of the spiritual battle laid out in Eph 6:10–17, but her approach is distinguished by the unusual prominence that the theme of spiritual warfare attained in her thinking. This paper will first take a brief look at Penn-Lewis’s life and thought, paying particular attention to her views on spiritual warfare, and then examine her treatment of the violent passages in Joshua against that background, noting how she drew encouragement from these texts to take an aggressive stance in her own ministry.

The history of interpretation on Judges 11-12 reveals that the character Jephthah has been construed by readers from different ages as “a heathen warrior,” “a wild soldier,” “ignorant,” “insecure,” “(theologically) ill-informed,” “superstitious,” who lived in “rude and imperfect” time (Gunn, Judges, 2005, p145). Within the character Jephthah appears not only an individual naiveté, but also a certain (racialized) stereotype of time/space into which the character is cast. In other words, Jephthah embodies certain traits of the non-Israelite (e.g. child sacrifice), whose identities were supposed to have been erased completely in the land by the writer of Joshua. Jephthah is an outsider within, who is located inside but debased as an outsider at the same time. In postcolonial terms, Jephthah and his daughter, as the Other, represent the past and local, the debased temporality and spatiality that the “history” tries to hide and erase. However, such a time/spatial-distortion does not only bring out the marginalization of the character; but it also creates a queer subjectivity that operates in non-normative temporality and geography, which challenge the rigid constructions of identities (i.e. ethnicity, gender, masculinity, etc.) in the story world. Drawing on Rebecca Fine Romanow’s idea of “the postcolonial” as “queer” space and time, this paper investigates how, and in what ways, multiple times/spaces run in the underground of the story-world in a highly convoluted way. Such “queer” time and space of the characters problematize the normativized system of binary—the hard borderline between the Israelites and Canaanites, which is the “identity discourse” of the Book of Judges that builds the footstool for the Israelites’ nationhood in the Deuteronomistic History.

This study intends to analyze the key linguistic and metaphorical theme of the dichotomous contrasts between the exalted/haughty/highs and the exiled/contrite/lows that connects and proceeds throughout the book of Isaiah. Recent Isaiah scholarship has made significant contributions to reading the unified themes of the book of Isaiah as a whole, as well as to reconstructing the redactional development in its composition history. This study is an attempt to build on those scholarly insights: so as to examine how this theme of contrasts portrays the ongoing sociopolitical tensions in monarchic and postmonarchic Israel; how this theme grows, evolves, and is redefined in key sections of the book of Isaiah; and how this theme ultimately shapes the formation of the book of Isaiah in holistic unity.

The Aramaic marriage contracts from the Jewish community of Elephantine in the fifth century BCE are valuable sources of information concerning the Jewish marriage and succession practices and their related social dynamics during the Persian period. Previous studies have illuminated how the Mesopotamian and Egyptian legal traditions of marriage and succession were conflated in these documents. Building upon the insights from previous studies, this paper attempts to identify the underlying mechanism of legal adaptations and transformations in these documents. The basic assumption of this study is that the provisions in the Aramaic marriage contracts are not a simple mixture of different legal traditions, but an ingenious system of law with its down dynamics and logic, which was designed to serve the particular social needs of this immigrant community. By examining the distinctive features of the Aramaic marriage documents in light of various ancient Near Eastern marriage and succession customs and their respective social contexts, the present study aims to understand what particular socio-economic concerns and strategies are reflected in this innovative marriage and succession system developed by the Jew of Elephantine.

Grammatical-historical interpretation is regarded as an absolute norm of biblical exegesis. Almost all commentary writers start by finding the original meaning of the text regardless of its literary genre. They assume that historical meaning always denotes a particular referent at the time of its composition. However, rigid use of grammatical-historical interpretation may inherit difficulties in interpreting a future-predictive prophecy, for example, the Second Coming of the Christ (e.g., 1Thess 4:15-17). The parousia of the Christ refers to the future event which will happen when he comes again. As linguistics develops, Bible exegetes begin to realize that there is a distinction between sense-making and referent-finding. In this paper, I will utilize Ogden-Richards’s renowned triangle, which has revolutionized the study of linguistic semantics. The triangle reveals the problem of the “word-and-thing” method. It distinguishes the meanings between ‘sense’ and ‘referent.’ Ogden-Richards’s study stresses the indirect relationship between ‘sense’ and ‘referent.’ Sense-making does not necessarily mean grasping the concrete object of the referent. This distinction will greatly contribute to one’s understanding of predictive prophecies such as Isa 52:13-53:12. As a test case, I will apply Ogden-Richards’s method to the interpretation of this text. If the referent of the servant in this text is not clear in its original, historical context, one may become complacent about the sense-making of the passage. As redemptive history unfolds, the interpreter will later realize who the real referent is.

In recent years, the Infancy Gospel of Thomas (IGT) has received increased interest from a few notable scholars, primarily Reidar Aasgaard and Tony Chartrand-Burke. While both Aasgaard and Chartrand-Burke recognize the influence of ancient childhood stories on the formation of IGT, they disagree in terms of how to understand the tale of Jesus' early childhood in IGT. Is Jesus portrayed as a true-to-life child who develops through the expected stages of Greco-Roman childhood on his way to adulthood (Aasgaard), or is Jesus cast as an idealized child in the form of a Jewish holy man with a static personality throughout the narrative (Chartrand-Burke)? The respective views of Aasgaard and Chartrand-Burke are of course mutually exclusive – is there any way to adjudicate between the two understandings of Jesus in IGT, or is a third view necessary? Adopting two of Aasgaard's suggested avenues for future IGT study (story / narrative criticism, and the theological message of the text), I offer a literary critical reading of IGT's narrative as a whole, keeping a special focus on the Christology communicated throughout. By examining the different ways in which other characters throughout IGT respond to Jesus, specifically noting whether or not they recognize Jesus' unique power and his divine nature, a coherent and consistent narrative Christology emerges in which Jesus is the static and stable pre-existent Lord, God the Creator, true Teacher, Son of God, and Savior who, from beginning to end, curses those who fail to recognize him but acts benevolently with those who begin to grasp his true nature and divine identity.

Jan Assmann has recently argued for the distinctively violent nature of monotheistic forms of religion. Yet one must ask whether Assmann has not offered too deterministic a picture of the relationship between monotheism and violence. A close examination of Jewish monotheistic violence from antiquity shows that they all give the lie to the idea of a necessary link between monotheism and violence. In these cases, the believers had recourse to violence only when the threat to the religious ordering of their community also entailed a threat to its social ordering. The relationship between monotheism and violence is neither necessary nor impossible, but contingent; it depends on the specific situation of the faith community.

This paper attempts to explore the global aspect of African biblical hermeneutics in light of Jürgen Moltmann’s theology. For centuries, Africa has experienced immense political and economic injustices. Consequently, the dignity of its people has been disfranchised. Western theologians and missionaries have long been theologizing from their own western socio-cultural point of views. This made their theology and biblical hermeneutics irrelevant to the African socio-cultural and political needs. Phase one of this paper will set the stage and delve into the biblical hermeneutics on the dignity of the poor. Here, the listener or reader will hear a discussion about the goals of the gospel of the kingdom to be the “poor” as espoused by the synoptic gospels (Luke 4.18ff.; Matt.11.5). The term “poor” has a sociological and theological dimensions. The Political, psychological and economic oppressions and in justices form the mechanisms that keep the poor poorer. This study will attempt to link this with a discussion on a theological and biblical hermeneutics of dialogue on Human Rights. Phase two of this paper will examine on Moltmann’s Biblical, political theology and hermeneutics in view of the African context. The criterion for political theology is praxis. It is a distance away from theological abstractions. “With this criterion, reflexive consciousness no longer has an intuitive contemplative relationship to reality but instead has won an operative and therefore self-critical relationship to reality.” Biblical hermeneutics and theology must therefore enter into a pragmatic sphere so it can be relevant to its context. This can only happen when it is able to “reflect constantly and critically upon its practical functions as well as its content.”

Form does lead to function in monastic literature. The Commentary on the Paradise of the Fathers by late seventh-century spiritual writer Dadisho Qatraya (Church of the East) is a lengthy collection of questions and answers directed by the brothers or monks to an elder (saba – “old man”) on various issues in the monastic and spiritual life. All the exchanges utilize the contents of the Syriac compilation of Desert Father stories by Ananisho, entitled The Paradise of the Fathers. Eventually, this work would be translated into Arabic, then into Ge‘ez/Ethiopic where it would serve for centuries as one of the basic manuals for novice Ethiopian monks. This is the only major work of Syriac provenance that utilizes this genre of question and answer, and there is no doubt about the originality of the work. But why did Dadisho employ this particular genre and does it reflect actual conversations and an apparent in-depth knowledge of The Paradise by the monks? Or is it a pedagogical device to enable the monks to absorb the transmitted wisdom, for which it was very successful in the Ethiopian church? Recent scholarship in Greek and Latin patristics has begun to study the genre of question and answer literature, especially by a contemporary of Dadisho, Anastasius of Sinai, as well as the Letters of Barsanuphius and John. These Letters and the Questions and Answers of Anastasius were likewise responses to religious individuals and groups with both pastoral and secular concerns. This study intends to correlate the observations on the texts of Anastasius and Barsanuphius and John that are both similar and contrasting to the content and social implications of Dadisho’s collection in order to understand how this genre meets the specific needs of its readership.

This paper has two focal points: In a first step the designation of God as father is examined shortly: God as father in the Old Testament, in the intertestamental writings, in the rabbinic literature and in the Sayings Source Q. In a very influential article Joachim Jeremias wrote that Jesus’ address of God as “my father” is unique, that “abba” means “my father” and that “abba” originates in the familiar and informal language of the Aramaic speaking family. Against this I will argue that Jesus never used the appellation “my father”, that “my father” is not unique in Palestinian Judaism and that “abba” means only “father”. A summary of the meaning of the designation of God as father and of its importance as a narrative character in Q follows. In a second step Q 11:9-13 is investigated. The line of reasoning and the meaning of the section are pointed out. Further the overall narrative and theological understanding of prayer to the Father in the Sayings Source Q is outlined. Thus, this paper offers some observations in dialogue with the narrative interpretations of Q by Harry T. Fleddermann and Michael Labahn.

This chapter begins with a legal process between Samuel and the people that establishes the innocence of Samuel (vv. 1-5). In vv. 6-12 Samuel demonstrates that the people's request for an earthly king was a rejection of the kingship of YHWH. By the end of. vv. 13-15 the innocence of both Samuel and YHWH has been demonstrated although a ways has been outlined by which kingship could be incorporated into God's plan for Israel. In vv. 16-19 the people acknowledge the correctness of the accusations against them. The concluding exhortation repeats and expands on the conditions under which kingship would be permissible (vv. 20-25). This paper is a defense of the Deuteronomistic interpretation of 1 Samuel 12 published thirty years ago.

Much of the past scholarly treatment of Pesher Nahum (4Q169) has been devoted to identifying the figures and reconstructing the events mentioned in this composition. The way that the book of Nahum is interpreted in 4Q169 has received less attention, however. In its interpretation of Nahum, the pesher often draws on other scriptural material. This paper is a study of the use of these secondary biblical texts in 4Q169. In this paper I will identify instances of the use of secondary biblical texts (this use is almost always implicit), and attempt to account for why and how these texts are being used. I will also explore the implications of the use of secondary texts for understanding the way the pesherist approached the book of Nahum and other biblical texts. An examination of the use of secondary biblical texts in 4Q169 demonstrates that there are significant lexical and contextual connections between the book of Nahum and the other texts used to interpret it. More significantly, many of these secondary texts are taken from prophetic oracles addressing the fate of Assyria. In its use of these texts, Pesher Nahum demonstrates an implicit awareness of the dynamic tradition of biblical prophecy concerning Assyria and locates itself as a continuation and development of that tradition. This conclusion has important implications for the study of the pesharim in general, especially regarding the question of how biblical prophetic texts are understood in pesher interpretation. The use of secondary biblical texts in Pesher Nahum suggests the possibility that the pesherists understood their interpretation not as the only true fulfillment of biblical prophecy, but as part of a continuing prophetic tradition.

Combining biblical and Egyptian evidence, scholars of the 19th and early 20th centuries regularly wrote of a “land of Qedem” in the Levant. In recent decades, however, discussion of this locale all but ceased—the biblical attestations of qdm have come to be almost universally translated without comment by the generic “east,” and the Egyptian references have been ignored by biblical scholars. But the toponym Qedem was never fully investigated; no consensus was ever reached as to whether such a place existed by that name, and if so, where one should expect to find it. This paper seeks to fill this lacuna. Through the examination of several biblical passages, I contend that several instances of qdm in the Hebrew Bible reflect not the compass point “east” but a specific area in the northern Transjordan. This corresponds precisely with two extrabiblical references to the land of Qedem, in the Egyptian tale of Sinuhe and in the Tel Dan Inscription. The biblical authors associated this land of Qedem with the Arameans, but over time the toponym—and especially the corresponding gentilic, the bny qdm ‘Qedemites’—came to refer more broadly to the nomadic peoples who inhabited the Syrian-Arabian desert to the east of Palestine.

The Samaritan Pentateuch (SP) is well-known for a number of traits: linguistic corrections, conflations on the basis of parallel texts, the addition of sources for a quotations, correlations between commands and their fulfillment, and the addition of a limited number of sectarian statements (e.g., the Samaritan tenth commandment). Although the SP is generally longer than the Masoretic Text (MT) and contains relatively few minuses over against the MT, there are some cases in which divergent readings between the MT, the Septuagint (LXX), and the SP may shed some light on the development of each of these major textual witnesses. One such case to be explored in this paper is the discrepancy between MT Deut 27:4 (Mt. Ebal) and SP (and OL) Deut 27:4 (Mt. Gerizim). Are both of these lemmata later additions to the two respective textual traditions or is one earlier than the other? Do the readings in MT Joshua, LXX Joshua, 4QJoshuaa (and Josephus, Antiquitates) relating to the altar(s) in the land shed any light on this larger question? This paper will engage important recent studies by Kartveit, van der Meer, Nihan, Noort, Pummer, De Troyer, and Ulrich on this question. The important variants in Deut 27:4 and in other relevant passages may help to problematize the issue as one involving only textual growth in the SP.

In 1689, Theirry Ruinart published a collection of martyr acts that continues to influence similar collections to this day. Designed to include those martyria with some claim to historicity, Ruinart’s Acta primorum martyrum sincera et selecta gathered martyr legends drawn from medieval menologia or excerpted from the writings of the church fathers, principally Eusebius of Caesarea. In this way, Ruinart was an important contributor to the modern discipline of hagiography, as he extracted early legends of the martyrs from their largely devotional contexts and sorted them on the basis of their purported authenticity. Yet it was not always so. Initially composed to praise specific saints, the martyr acts had a commemorative and liturgical function: many of these works explicitly invite fellow Christians to join in the veneration of the murdered hero or heroes, presumably on a feast day to be shared with the martyr’s home church. The decision to sort among martyria on the basis of the historicity of the account is a largely a modern preoccupation and dependence on these modern editions has come at a cost: what is excluded, relegated to a critical apparatus, or deemed secondary to a main body of witnesses holds important clues to the place of books and book culture in late antique and early medieval religious practice, which has in turn impacted what has survived at all. Focusing on three of the miscellany manuscripts found among the cache of codices now known as the Dishna papers, this paper revisits the question of the place of martyr stories in the emerging Christian cultus, illustrating the surprising breadth of the category “sacred scripture” among late antique Egyptian Christians.

The cult of the goddess was identified in modern scholarship long ago. The data from the second and first millennium BCE presented in this paper offers a reconstruction of the continuous worship of the goddess in the Judean Lowland and the southern Coastal Plain of Palestine. By a thorough investigation of various objects (such as the hundreds of figurines, scarabs and amulets) and buildings (such as the Fosse Temple in Late Bronze Lachish and the Late Iron Age Ekron temple) it is shown that, although the perception of the goddess was reshaped and adapted during the eras and numerous attributions (as Egyptian Hathor or Aegean-oriented Mother Goddess) were attached and later removed from her image, she remained almost the only deity worshiped in the entire region.

Interpreters sometimes speak of “the Johannine Jesus” in the singular, identifying Jesus as the divine Word who becomes flesh, speaks on a heavenly plane, and manifests divine glory in his own person. Yet one can also discern various layers within John’s presentation, so that it may be helpful to speak of multiple “Jesuses” in the Fourth Gospel. On one level he is identified as a Jewish rabbi, who engages in teaching, has a circle of disciples, and disputes questions of Sabbath observance. On another level he is called a prophet by others and uses that title for himself. As a prophet he speaks in the name of God and performs miraculous signs like those attributed to Moses, Elijah, and Elisha. He is sometimes called “Messiah” in contexts that suggest connections with the royal Davidic tradition. He also uses the title “Son of Man” in ways that may recall the apocalyptic traditions of Daniel and other Jewish sources. Each of these portraits reflects a way of remembering Jesus that has affinities with traditions about Jesus in other ancient sources. They also correspond to some of the recent portrayals of the historical Jesus as teacher, sage, and apocalyptic prophet. Although studies of Jesus have often focused on the transmission of traditions about particular sayings or incidents, it is also helpful to ask about the principal categories that were used to remember Jesus. Doing so provides a multidimensional perspective on John’s portrayal of Jesus, along with the traditions that inform the text.

Learning objects are often distributed in a static form that is unsuitable for modified reuse, and though certain Learning Management Systems such as LAMS do allow for repurposing, the authoring, adaptation and end user accessibility are all tied to the LAMS platform. The traditional model for reuse, furthermore, has been to focus on content at the expense of pedagogical design. With the generative learning objects (GLOs) authoring tool GLO-Maker, the primary focus of reuse is not the specific learning object itself but rather the pedagogical design that underpins the object. GLO-Maker, furthermore, makes these designs accessible to teachers and tutors for adaptation and saves them in packages that can be played from any location into which this package is moved – for example a computer desktop, a web server, a learning management system or an Android mobile phone. Building a repository of repurposable GLOs opens up a wide array of collaboration opportunities for teachers and tutors worldwide, not least in the Majority World. Examples will be given on the creation and repurposing of GLO’s on the use of historical method in Biblical exegesis as support for Scandinavian undergraduate and graduate education at the Fjellhaug International University College in Norway and Denmark and their reuse in a Majority World context.

In a short essay from 1947, Von Rad described “Das Jüdäische Königsritual” (TLZ 72:211-216), drawing attention to the aspects of the Judean “coronation” ritual which had close analogues in ancient Egypt. One detail which he did not emphasize is how slight a role any actual crown played in this “coronation.” This paper will focus on the evidence from Northwest Semitic texts of the Iron Age for the “regalia” of the monarchy. A discussion of the terminology for “crown” will also be included, as this turns out to be instructive. The central role of the crown in Mesopotamian kingship was argued by Hallo (1966; 1996:199-200), but denied by Civil (1980). As Hallo has also observed, however (1996:197), Mesopotamian conceptions of kingship differ deeply from their West Semitic counterparts.In fact, when the biblical evidence in situated within the broader Northwest Semitic data regarding kings and their ascensions to the throne, it becomes clear that the trappings of royalty in the region were not crowns, but thrones and “shoots,” or scepters. The regalia of the Levantine kingship has been studied regarding the second millennium by Ziffer (2002), and numerous studies have illuminated various aspects of the Israelite monarchy. Some of the relevant Aramaic texts were elucidated by JC Greenfield (1971; 1987), but there have been no synthetic studies focusing on the epigraphic materials from elsewhere in the Levant. In synthesizing this evidence, the paper will also pay attention to the data from the Bible and later ancient Judaism, to show both the commonalities and the differences between the Israelite/Jewish conceptions of kingship and those prevalent elsewhere in the Northwest Semitic world.

The paper will examine the Priestly war legislation reflected in Numbers 31. At the introduction, two methodological assumptions will be set out: First, descriptions of human behavior in situations with legal aspects are reflections of the author’s perceptions. They were meant to explain what were considered to be the relevant legal norms or customs and to express the author’s viewpoint concerning them. Second, the instructions set out in the chapter were not meant to be executed only at that specific war, but were meant to be valid for generations to come and to present the Priestly war legislation. The paper’s second part will discuss the place of the war story within the Priestly literature and will focus on two issues: (1) regarding the departure of the ‘Sacred Utensils’ to the battlefield in vs. 6, it will be suggested that the term ’Sacred Utensils’ denotes all the utensils that were in the inner precincts of the Tabernacle, as opposed to the copper Altar, and that the purpose of their departure was to guarantee the Divine presence within the camp. This description does not tally with the Priestly perception in Numbers 1–4. According to this perception, the departure of the Sacred Utensils out of the Tabernacle was possible only when it was dismantled in preparation for a journey. (2) regarding the commanders’ contribution in vss. 48-54 it will be suggested that this contribution was a ransom payed because of a census, and that the commanders’ action does not tally with the Priestly law that deals with this issue (Exodus 30:11-16). The suggested explanation to these contradictions is that P’s authors included in their composition scrolls they thought important in their immediate context, even if they created contradictions and incompatibilities in the general sequence of the large composition. The third and last part of the paper will discuss the strata of the war story and the redaction process it underwent. It will present the literary and exegetical considerations to discern between the strata such as the discrepancy between the description of the warriors action in killing only adult males as performed ”as the LORD commanded Moses” and Moses’ wrath told afterward; and will discuss the location and role of the redacted story within the Priestly narrative sequence. It will be suggested that the war story was part of a short Priestly scroll that encompassed the events of the apostasy at Baal-Peor and the war of vengeance that occurred because of it. During the insertion of this scroll into P, another stratum containing laws concerning war was added to it. Moreover, the war story it displays was planted in a new context, within a division of chapters that deal with the necessary preparations before entering Canaan. The redaction process turned the specific war story into a precedent for all wars to come and the basis for the Priestly legislation of war.

This paper will focus on the Genesis presentation of a child, Ishmael, as an ‘onager man’ (Gen. 16:12a), which is traditionally understood as pointing to his bellicosity, stupidity, marauding nomadism, savageness, and primitivism. This paper will attempt to demonstrate that conventional readings of Ishmael’s profile are fundamentally wrong about the direction in which aggression is channeled in his material – he is not the aggressor, he is on the receiving end of aggression. Prenatal oracles in the Hebrew Bible usually serve a very specific function - they provide a thematic outline to the narratives they preface. Therefore the oracle delivered in Gen. 16:12 is supposed to delineate the progression of Ishmael’s destiny within the ensuing material and to find its resolution by the end of the Abraham cycle. This paper will demonstrate that ‘an onager man’, the first statement of the oracle’s destiny unit, receives its resolution in the act of Abraham’s banishment of Ishmael in Gen. 21. This reading is predicated on the fact that animalization was a widely-used cultural tool of mediating violence (political, economic, and social) with onager representing a lowest register of the abused and disadvantaged segments of ancient societies (cf. Job 24, 30, Sir. 13). Therefore in Genesis it indicates and maintains uneven social locations of Abraham’s two sons. In addition, it will be shown that animals, equids in particular, are featured in contexts of socially inacceptable types of interments, and Ishmael’s designation as an onager will prove to augment his disinheritance coupled with anti-burial in Gen. 21. In short, the prenatal oracle in Gen 16:12 points to a nuanced social organization of Abraham’s sons and holds an annihilationist intent toward the oldest.

What does it mean to speak of "the Septuagint" before book technology made it possible to gather such a large anthology into a single physical entity in the 4th century ce? At the level of textual discussion, the period before the development of the "mega codices" (such as Sinaiticus and Vaticanus) would be expected to produce problems of variation and classification (e.g. what constitutes a "text type" in that world?). For the "parting of the ways" discussion, it has often been claimed that Christians adopted the codex format while Jews retained the scroll, but what sense does that make historically? This presentation questions the wisdom of speaking of “the Septuagint” in this early period, and attempts to reopen discussion of the transmission of those various Jewish texts into Christian hands.

In Palladius’s Lausiac History, a monk reports that Antony had a code by which he determined his treatment of visiting monks. If the monks were more “easy going” (apragoteros), they were “Egyptian” and given some food and a small prayer from Antony before he “bid them farewell.” If, however, they were more “pious” (eulabesteros) and “eloquent” (logioteros), they were “from Jerusalem” and Antony “would sit up all night talking to them about salvation” (LH 21.8-9). My paper explores the paradoxes of this anecdote in the context of monastic education in Palladius’s text as a whole. These markers of monastic distinction call attention to the role of literacy and speech as products of monastic education. It is a common trope in Palladius’s monastic vignettes that pursuing traditional paideia—grammar, philosophy, the liberal arts—is part of monastic renunciation. Yet life in Palladius’s Egyptian desert still required reading, both of Scripture and of biblical commentators. Indeed, Palladius uses knowledge of those texts to indicate levels of monastic commitment and virtue; all monks can memorize Scripture but some also commit to memory the commentators. A monk who did not know how to read nevertheless received the same knowledge of these texts through divine intervention. He had he “gift of divine knowledge of sacred scripture” and so could “explain” (hermeneuo) them without ever having read them (LH 47.3). These two educational paths, human and divine represent an enduring tension in Palladius’s construction of religious education. This education, as Antony’s code reveals, has its own markers of elite standing. The end result is that the two sets of monks—Egyptian and Jerusalem—represent the duality in Palladius’s monastic education between the monastic ideal of civic withdrawal and the continued reproduction of civic values that are inherent in that education. So too monks who are on par with each other can joke using puns and wordplay to create monastic speech (LH 35.10-11); and Palladius must address the question of how to treat Coptic-speaking monks as sources of monastic authority in a Greek text (LH 21.15). Finally, an account of a female ascetic’s claim to a literary relic, a book signed by Origen when she provided him with shelter from Roman persecution (LH 34), provides a symbolic expression for Palladius’s defense of this monastic education and the literary monasticism it produces: they are part of Palladius’s larger defense against attacks of Origenism. Monastic education in this text, and the monasticism it authorized, therefore was not simply reading, or being taught to read, the Bible but an arena for a contest about monastic identity.

The gospels give a rather short account of how Jesus was taken from the cross and buried (Mark 15:42–47 par.). Nevertheless, the wording of the Greek text is revealing about the social-historical background of funerals and the burial of Jesus, crucified as a criminal. In comparison with documentary evidence from the Greco-Roman World words and phrases like “asking for the body of Jesus” in Mark 15:43 par. (aitoumai) or “rich man” in Matth 27:58 (plousios) turn out to be of significance and much more than a random choice of words by the authors. Documentary material also provides information on ante-mortem arrangements, costs and legal procedures concerning funerals that cast new light on the biblical accounts and a burial “according to the burial custom of the Jews” (John 19:40). In addition this paper will discuss the role and figure of Joseph of Arimathea in the Passion Narratives as well as his possible social background that allowed him to transfer his own (access to a) tomb to Jesus (Matth 27:60).

Interpretation of Genesis 34 regularly revolves around several evaluative comments on the narrative level (vv. 5, 7, 13, 27). That these evaluative comments constitute a pivot point for interpretation reflects the hermeneutical inclination to read them as indicative of an authoritative narrator’s straightforward judgment. The narratological questions of voice and perspective (focalization), however, complicate such a reading of narratorial evaluation. Whose “voice” do these remarks represent? Whose thoughts do they express? What is their relation to the narrator’s perspective and voice? Attending to the distinction (advocated by narratologists such as Richard Aczel) between voice as narrating instance and voice as qualitative effect (i.e., tone, idiom, speech style, etc.) illuminates hitherto unexplored possibilities for interpretation in Genesis 34. The voice that resounds with judgment throughout the narrative is not necessarily the exclusive property of the narrator. In terms of its qualitative effect, the evaluative voice parroted throughout the narrative resonates with the voice of Simeon and Levi (heard at the story’s conclusion), and consequently its each instance becomes a candidate for free indirect discourse mediating the brothers’ speech. The brothers who dominate the story in terms of their direct discourse and actions may in fact dominate it on the level of narrative discourse as well. Exploring this possibility necessarily entails considering the comments as double-voiced discourse, which either accords or contrasts with the narrator’s perspective. While the narrator’s perspective ultimately remains indeterminate, the excessiveness of the brothers’ voice and viewpoint over against the absence of God’s character, Dinah’s voice, and the narrator’s voice (as a distinctive qualitative effect) lends itself invitingly to an ironic reading that juxtaposes what is said—namely, the brothers’ violent exclusivism—with what remains unsaid: a more inclusive relation with the inhabitants of the land.

Our understanding and appreciation of the book of Jubilees does not all rest on acceptance of the recent hypothesis that our present text is actually the work of two different writers, the original author and someone else, a scribe or copyist responsible for some 29 insertions that were stuck into the original text. There is certainly a lot more to Jubilees than those 29 passages! Still, an important argument in favor of the Interpolator’s existence remains to be made explicit; I wish to do so briefly here, and then to examine in its light a particularly curious passage, Jub 32:27-29,in the different text traditions represented by the Ethiopic and Latin versions.

Among the many things that the Judean politeuma papyri from second century BCE Herakleopolis, Egypt teach us is something of the position held by the women of Judean communities in the Hellenistic Egyptian world. Although we hear from them mostly through the voices of men, the women of the Judean community in Herakleopolis still testify revealingly to the opportunities and challenges they experienced in their hybrid cultural setting. From Nikaia who was won over by one man’s courtship but given by her father to another, to Philista whose Judean husband may have tried to use her as the bearer of a loan he made to fellow Judeans, to Berenike who in her own name sued a Judean man for failing to pay the purchase price of slave and the sum of a wet nurse contract, to still others with equally vivid stories to tell—they all reveal a wealth of insight on their daily lives and circumstances. Reading the women of the papyri in light of what scholars imagine to have been the prevailing gender ideologies of the place and time, we see how Judean women in second century BCE Egypt both lived within and tested the boundaries of those frameworks, and we are invited to adjust our judgment of them—the women and the frameworks—accordingly.

Many studies on the Son of Man title in Q were related to its history of tradition background, to its pre-history in the traditions of Q or its literary development (Vaage, Kloppenborg). By using a narrative interpretation of the Son of Man figure in Q I do not deny any diachronic approach to the title, but the focus is on the function of the figure in the document itself read as a literary unity. By analyzing the different sayings within a narrative approach it can be shown that the different sayings on the Son of Man with their different points complement each other in supporting the plot of the whole Q Document. The readers take part in the process of developing the plot in Q by combining the different accents of the Son of Man figure. The Son of Man as narrative figure is used to understand the presence of the addressees and their challenges by referring to the future return of the Son of Man. By this, the Son of Man figure is used to make sense from the past for the presence in the light of a better future. With the new narrative approach we may shed new light on the problem of the Son of Man in Q which is a “highly controversial one” (Christopher Tuckett).

In 1 Timothy 5:1a, the fictive Paul exhorts the fictive Timothy not to rebuke an older man, but "parakalei" him as a father (as well as younger men as brothers, older women as mothers and younger women as sisters; 5:1b-2). An understanding of the word parakaleo in this verse must take into account the cultural context of ancient Mediterranean gender and age hierarchy. The author does not indicate how Timothy should instruct his fellow group members in the “household of God” (1 Timothy 3:15), but how his audience should behave toward one another as fictive kin. In the face of challenges to traditional age-related behaviour in the community, the author promoted a conservative strategy that strongly encouraged submission to age hierarchy and the ideal of familial concord.

In the last century scholars such as John Knox, Edgar Goodspead, Charles Buck, and C. Leslie Mitton have concluded that the initial publication of the Pauline corpus was likely produced on two scrolls rather than on a single codex. Many of the scholars who have embraced this theory have speculated that the original arrangement of the Pauline letters was much different than what can be found in modern biblical translations as well as early witnesses such as P46 which arranged the epistles in the order of decreasing length. One common conclusion which has been made by these scholars is that the initial publication of Paul’s letters would have separated Romans from the Corinthian letters in order that both scrolls might contain a nearly equal amount of material. It was only after the codex was introduced, it has been suggested, that an arrangement of the letters based solely on length was first introduced. In recent decades, however, it has become increasingly apparent that Christian communities adopted the codex much earlier than was previously assumed. It would seem that not only did Christian communities begin to make use of the codex from an early time, but that they preferred it almost exclusively over the scroll. The fact that very few of the oldest extant New Testament papyri were written on scrolls stands in contrast to the preference for the scroll which may be observed in secular literature. In fact, it would appear that in Christian circles, the codex reached a preferred status several centuries before it did so elsewhere. This paper will discuss the possible basis for the early Christian acceptance of the codex as well as the implications the early use of the codex may have had on the initial publication and circulation of the Pauline corpus.

Current studies of diachrony in biblical Hebrew have focused on a range of phonological, morphological, syntactic, and lexical developments. This paper seeks to expand the range of lexical phenomena under consideration by pointing to the inherent instability of concepts that we often take to be universals. To put it one way, synchrony has a certain stake in denying diachrony. This is especially true with regard to matters pertaining to ideology, where past and present commitments can lead to a studied indifference to various forms of divergence, linguistic change included. As Voloshinov has written in Marxism and the Philosophy of Language, there is a constant attempt to provide a “supraclass, eternal character to the ideological sign,” “to make the sign uniaccentual.” This paper pursues these themes by examining evidence for diachronic change in so-called religious uses of šub in the Hebrew Bible. Often associated with the concept of “repentance,” we actually find a strong degree of variation, manifest in phraseology as well as through contextual forms of understanding. These divergences, for the most part, can be best explained through a theory of diachronic development. In particular, it is to be noted that, while the positive form of the phrase, “(re)turn to the LORD,” is to be found in all strata of the language, though concentrated in earlier forms, its negative formulation, “turn away from sin/evil/etc.,” is to be found only in LBH texts. It is suggested that this corresponds to a significant change as well in its underlying sense. Such variations have been obscured, in part, by the rabbinic concept of t?šubah, which appropriates and nominalizes the biblical term, thus supporting the current uniformitarian approach to its usage.

When interpreting 2 Corinthians, it is essential to keep in mind that Paul’s perspective differs significantly from that of his readers. Yet it is also important to avoid identifying his readership as “the church in Corinth,” because there were divisions within Paul’s community as well as other believers in Corinth outside of his community. Bringing all of these complexities to bear on 7:5–16, this paper will argue that these verses elaborate on 7:3–4 and that all of 7:3–16 is an attempt to placate Paul’s indignant readers, who have taken issue with his earlier letter and are thus likely to take issue with 6:1–7:2 as well. The readers of 6:1–7:16 are not, however, the only group of Corinthian believers who are upset with Paul. Rather, these indignant converts have just punished another group of Paul’s converts, whose flagrant opposition to Paul’s instructions lies at the root of Paul’s Corinthian troubles. Because this reconstruction runs counter to established presuppositions, two passages outside of 7:5–16 will be considered. It will be argued that 6:1–7:2 reaffirms Paul and Timothy’s earlier instructions concerning communal purity, which have been opposed by some of their converts. It will also be argued that 1:13b–2:13 discusses Paul’s decision not to punish his converts personally, defending this controversial decision while simultaneously calling for their restoration. In addition, a number of details within 7:5–16 will be addressed. It will be argued: that it is Paul’s ??p? rather than his readers’ ??p? which has produced repentance; that Paul’s readers are still quite upset with him; and that Paul mirrors his readers’ claim to be ????? t? p???µat? by insisting that, with regard to the affair of the impure converts recently punished, he has acted neither as ? ?d???sa?t?? nor as ? ?d??????t??.

In Isaiah 29.7-8 there is a strange double dream, embedded in a typical double simile, which evokes the double language of the book of Isaiah, as a discourse that is intended not to be understood (6.9-10), and the ambiguity of the word for vision (hazut), which refers both to prophetic experience and to a contract or covenant. In the simile, all the hosts who wage war against Ariel, an enigmatic name for a spectral Jerusalem, will be “like a vision or dream of the night”; the dream is then elucidated as one in which a hungry man dreams that he eats and wakes and finds that his stomach is empty, and a thirsty man drinks, and wakes, and his throat is parched. The dream provokes impossible difficulties of interpretation; the dreamers may be the inhabitants of Jerusalem, for whom the vanishing of the enemies is a disenchantment, or they may be the enemies, cheated of their prize. Do all interpretations of this dream assume, on some base level, that the point of comparison is that reality is utterly different from what is played out in the dream—regardless of who the dreamers might be? If so, what does this say about the entire book, which introduces itself as a “vision (hazon) of Isaiah” (1.1)? After reading Isaiah do we feel like one awakening from a (bad) dream, having hoped that our desires (whatever they may be) will be satisfied only to realize that they still remain? Exploring the interpretive possibilities of these verses then has repercussions for the entire book. Does the vision of Isaiah correspond at all to reality? Does it even purport to do so? Is there a type of (dream) interpretation which might allow for the possibility that one might dream of quenching hunger and thirst only to awake, and behold, the desires are satisfied?

This paper explores the history of the Rephaim in Northwest Semitic literature and examines the question of why they seem to disappear in Second Temple period Judaism. The only references to the Rephaim contemporary with post-exilic biblical literature are found in Phoenician sarcophagi inscriptions from Sidon, where they represent a continuation of earlier Canaanite/Amorite ideologies. Why is it that the Nephilim, along with other figures of the mythic past such as Gilgamesh, get conscripted into Enochic literature while the Rephaim are simply forgotten? The historical exploration of these questions will address the role of biblical polemics and the negative depiction of the Rephaim in the Hebrew Bible as either a defeated people of the past or the powerless dead. This paper will argue that strong biblical polemics would be preserved in the reception of biblical literature (as they are with Gilgamesh). However, the absence of this preserved polemic argues for a relatively muted critique in the biblical corpus. In addition, the dissemination of hopes for beatific afterlife in literature of the second temple period conflict with the preservation of a polemic against the rephaim in the literature of the Second Temple Period.

What difference does Jesus make for Paul's understanding of the time he and his community inhabit?

Cores that were obtained from the Dead Sea and the Sea of Galilee were used to reconstruct past climate conditions in the Levantine region during the Bronze and Iron Ages. The records were studied in high resolution for their lithological and palynological patterns. Their chronological framework is based on radiocarbon dating of short-lived organic material. The detailed paleo-climate reconstruction points to a dramatic dry event in the later phase of the Late Bronze Age, around the middle of the 13th century BCE. This pronounced dry phase lasted about 120 – 150 years, and was followed by much wetter climate conditions during the Iron I. The increasing humidity enabled the expanding of agricultural activities in the area. The Iron II was characterized by a slight decrease in humidity. This new high resolution paleo-climate reconstruction helps us to better understand the “Crisis Years” in the eastern Mediterranean at the end of the Bronze Age, as well as the quick recovery in the Iron I, including the emergence of new entities in the highlands regions of the Levant. It also sheds light on changing economic strategies in the region during the Iron II.

Despite nearly two centuries of modern textual work in rabbinic literature, we lack critical editions of the most significant texts. Recent contributions in this direction have been methodologically cautious, and often make presentation and publication decisions that make the final product expensive and unwieldy. With the increase in textual sources available digitally, and most importantly, the online publication of high resolution images of significant manuscripts and manuscript collections, the time is right to begin born-digital editions. This paper reports on preliminary work to create such an edition of the Mishnah (a legal compendium from ca. 200 CE), discusses how a dynamic edition might revise our understanding of the “critical edition” and its uses. The demo edition (dev.digitalmishnah.org, with a project description site at www.digitalmishah.org) takes Bava Qamma, Metsi’a, and Batra, originally a single long tractate, as a sample text. Individual witnesses are transcribed as separate documents in xml using the TEI standard. At this point three basic operations are possible using this data: (1) browsing individual witnesses; (2) viewing witnesses in parallel columns; and (3) viewing the results of automated collation (using CollateX, colletex.net), which are then reprocessed locally. In future, tools such as statistical measurements of relatedness between witnesses will assist with grouping and stemmatics. The differences between such an edition and conventional print editions relate principally to the user’s determination of what is to be compared and under what terms. This means, however, that in designing the edition, we need to be aware of users and their needs. In the case of the Mishnah, for instance, users might be historical linguists interested in orthography or morphology, or medievalists interested in the form(s) an ancient text took in its medieval context. The goal is to provide as flexible and adaptable tool as possible.

The Qumran text entitled "Rule of the Congregation" (1Q28a/1QSa) declares that all who desired membership in the community needed to be sufficiently worthy to be admitted, "For the holy angels are [a part of] their [congrega]tion" (1QSa II:8-9). Other Qumran texts such as the Hodayot (“Thanksgiving Psalms”), the related “Self-Glorification Hymn,” the “Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice,” and many other liturgical and poetical texts, imply a belief in liturgical communion with angelic beings and human access to the divine council in the celestial temple of God. My research has uncovered a pattern perceptible in these texts that, when pieced together, entails: a) an individual, often the speaker of the hymn/psalm, or leader of the community/congregation, speaks as if he has been taken up into heaven to stand in the divine council of God; b) in that setting, he is instructed in the praise of God and is taught the heavenly “mysteries,” often by God himself in a theophanic experience; c) the individual is appointed to be a teacher, often with the implication that he will teach the mysteries that he learned from God to others; d) those who follow his teachings are similarly enabled to participate in the heavenly vision and praise God together with the angels, often singing or shouting for joy; e) some texts indicate that these human worshippers are subsequently clothed with heavenly robes of righteousness in imitation of the heavenly beings. This paper will build on the work of scholars such as Bjorn Frennesson, Crispin Fletcher-Louis, James Davila, Carol Newsom, Eileen Schuller, Esther Chazon and others, and further demonstrate that these bold concepts were based primarily on the authors' interpretation of passages and themes from the biblical Psalms (e.g., Pss. 18, 63, 89, 132) and other scriptural writings (e.g., Isaiah's "Servant Songs") that borrow these motifs. The authors of these texts can be understood to be creating new poetic/liturgical works that more fully apply to their community and situation, putting themselves in the place of the biblical protagonists (e.g., king, priest, prophet, servant, congregation, Israel, Yahweh). Additionally, I will illustrate how these new compositions should be seen as inspired by cultic/temple practices prescribed in the biblical texts.

It is counterintuitive that GIS, a scientific system designed for close, exacting analysis, can be used to explore the ancient past, a fundamentally inexact, and shifting terrain, comprised of stories, encounters and variable visual details. In this paper, I argue that it is an inversion of its exacting character that makes GIS an effective tool for de-constructing ancient texts and re-imagining conceptual contexts. Because any knowledge of antiquity is fragmentary, narrative inconsistencies, fissures, and disjunctures abound. While traditional scholarship has historically treated such discontinuity as a riddle that through some series of mental gymnastics can be resolved; when viewed through a geographical lens, apparent gaps in the historical record evoke provocative questions that resist easy answers. Exposing rich lines of inquiry, such narrative and interpretive ‘cracks’ likewise signal undetected access points, inviting both students and scholars to view ancient landscape in new ways, and to engage emergent contours from alternate perspectives.

Without a doubt rabbinic Judaism was a highly textualized social movement. By textualized I mean that notions of self, subjectivity, and community were constructed in, between, and through texts. In this paper I propose to examine one aspect of this textualization, specifically the manner in which the Mishnah might have been used as a tool to teach halakhic thought. I will therefore argue that thinking through the literary structures of the Mishnah was likely crucial for instructing rabbinic Jews in the practice of halakhah. There are several aspects to this theory. First, by organizing topics according the thematic grouping of particular tractates, the Mishnah opens up discursive worlds concerning what might be considered halakhically relevant situations, objects, practices, times, seasons, and kinds of people. As such the thematization of the tractates can be seen as the identification of distinctive fields within the broader scope of the Mishnah’s halakhic program. Second, within the specific tractates the topical clusters that have now often been divided into chapters envision prototypical halakhic situations that require active halakhic thought. And finally, the specific mishnayot present insight into the specific situational nuances that construct the reasonability of halakhic decisions, as they simultaneously force the necessity of halakhic reasoning and decision-making upon rabbinic Jews. Thus, through this hierarchical structure, the Mishnah would have schooled its readers in the world and the processes of the halakhah. As such the literary parts and wholes of the Mishnah would simultaneously have influenced greatly the development of both the form and the content of halakhic thought in and beyond the time of the amoraim and the stammaim.

Some of our information concerning associations comes from Egyptian papyrus accounts. These documents provide detailed records of what associations did, what they ate, what they drank, where they met, and who paid for what when they met. Unlike honorific decrees, group bylaws, and membership lists, association accounts provide us with details of unspectacular features of typical collegium assemblies that Paul perhaps takes for granted while writing to his Christ-groups. P.Tebt 894 (Tebtunis, Egypt; 114 BCE) is our largest surviving association account. It contains information about over 40 meetings the group held. This paper gives a close reading of the papyrus, which has hitherto never been done, and argues that the Tebtunis club represents a financially-modest group rather than a type of "middling" association typically found in the epigraphical sources. The activities undertaken by the Tebtunis group suggest new ways to think about Paul's groups, especially procedure at meetings, financial support and accounting processes, and the social status of their members

Ancient Roman religion emphasized orthopraxy, the meticulously correct performance of ritual, at the expense of orthodoxy to such an extent that many scholars argue that the Romans could think whatever they wanted, so long as they did the right thing. Even the narration of mythology could be viewed as a mere appendage to ritual. Written philosophical theology was equally marginal, confined to a minor sub-section of Roman literary production. Nevertheless, judgments about the divine world were formed and performed to large audiences—not necessarily discursively, but ritually. For example, processions offered a kind of performative theology in which a select group of gods were organized hierarchically and represented in a variety of ways. In the pompa circensis—the procession that conducted the gods from the Capitoline temple to the Circus Maximus before the chariot races—the gods appeared as anthropomorphic statues borne on fercula (litters) and exuviae, symbols or attributes, borne in tensae (processional chariots). On the one hand, the statues presented the gods as fellow-citizens who came to view the games, while, on the other, the exuviae demonstrated divine alterity. This double image of the gods, as familiar and foreign, was itself doubled by the inclusion of the divi, deified emperors and empresses, on fercula and tensae, which were, nonetheless, subtly distinguished from the traditional gods. Lastly, the procession also offered a more theatrical means of divine representation—large wooden effigies (puppets), like Manducus, a devil who gnashed his large teeth. From this ritual, one can extract three different modes of divine representation, each of which seemingly corresponded to a particular sort of relationship to that god—a fellow-citizen, a powerful other, or a playful and/or terrifying companion. While written Roman theology may have been rather minimal, nevertheless, in ritual, the image and imagination of the gods was as rich, complex, and paradoxical as anywhere.

In light of the phrase nasa´ 'awôn ("he bears the guilt") in the Book of Ezekiel (4:4, 5; 14:10, 12; 18:20; 44:10, 12; cf. 44:27, 29), the Levites bear their guilt (44:10, 12; cf. Num 3:5-15) as a responsibility that both unites and distinguishes the Israelite people, the Levites, and the Zadokites in a system of graded holiness in the vision of Ezekiel 40–48. The moral nexus of act-consequence is contained within the symbolic priestly act of sanctifying the Lord’s name, in which the Lord is the primary actor (20:41; 28:22, 25; 36:23; 38:16; 39:27). The Book of Ezekiel draws upon both P and HC in shaping its understanding of holiness. The act of bearing guilt by all three strata of the rebellious house of Israel (44:6) is carried out in distinct, yet complementary ways in a system of practices designed to distinguish between the sacred and the profane and prevent syncretism through interiorization of the relationship with the Lord.

From an interpretive standpoint, Jonah presents as one of the more difficult books in the Old Testament. Is the book intended to critique the actions of God, of Israel, of the prophet, or of prophecy as a whole? The fantastic story of a prophet located in the middle of a collection that contains very little narrative, Jonah is unique among the writings of the Book of the Twelve (BT). With the rise of biblical criticism, particularly narrative analysis, biblical scholars have long left the idea that Jonah was ever intended to be understood as a historical account. However, the two separate orders of the BT (LXX and MT) position Jonah in a different canonical location. One possible reason for this discrepancy relates to the different readings of Jonah as “history.” Though the LXX makes the reasonable decision to place the two prophecies concerning Assyria (Jonah-Nahum) next to one another, the MT, followed by the English versions, has separated them. While it is impossible to state with certainty the interpretive viewpoint of the editors of the MT, I contend that the canonical location of Jonah within the BT is, in part, dependent on reading Jonah as a historical event. In other words, the MT editors, perhaps unlike the LXX editors, saw the historical results of Jonah actions as essential to the overall structure and theology of the BT. The book is positioned at a critical location within the Twelve, one that gives explanation to YHWH’s (historical) actions in the past, in order to give hope to his people in the future. Such a reading raises interpretive questions about God, his people, the nations, and the overall theology of the BT.

Several NT passages contain the primitive source, the killing prophet tradition, which is prevalent in the OT (Matt 23:31-39; Luke 11:47-51; Acts 7:52; 1 Thess 2:15-16; Heb 11:36-37). This tradition embedded in the NT passages has been generally defined as “(Pre)-Synoptic tradition,” but was challenged by C.M. Tuckett who suggested it to be named as “Jewish tradition” instead. Although there is a dispute for the definition of the tradition, there is a consensus on the view that each NT writers had accessed the tradition independently. This paper tackles both Tuckett and the scholarly consensus. The killing prophet tradition alluded to in most NT passages seems better to be referred to the synoptic tradition of the killing prophet rather than the Jewish, since the result of a careful examination of the NT passages shows that the original purpose of the killing prophet tradition disappears in the NT texts, and is reshaped and progressed gradually according to the need of each community, and finally is shared by Christian communities (except Heb 11:36-37). This leads to a conclusion that the scholarly consensus that the independent use of the synoptic tradition by the NT authors is also an implausible conjecture.

Roger Cowley in his seminal work on Ethiopian biblical commentary translated two full commentaries on Revelation into English, which are still used in the contemporary Ethiopian Orthodox Church. This paper will summarise interpretative highlights of these commentaries, and outline their background.

Through this learning activity students are able to understand the ritual use of the gohonzon scroll of Soka Gakkai International. The significance of the gohonzon is not the literal meanings of the characters and names written on it but their hierarchical arrangement and visual imagery.

In the early modern period, the study of Hebrew emerged as an academic discipline alongside history and classics. Like these disciplines, Hebrew philology took shape within contexts associated with humanism, the Reformation, the Enlightenment, and the rise of the modern university. This paper examines the entry of Hebrew study onto the agenda of sixteenth-century northern humanists in the time of Johannes Reuchlin (the so-called “Reuchlin Affair”) and traces the development of academic, confessional Hebrew study in the early modern period. As a kind of historical book-end to these developments, it turns, secondly, to the rise of Hebrew philology as a discipline at universities like Berlin, Halle, and Göttingen. In this way, the paper sets the emergence of scientific, disciplinary philology in a cultural and religious context with deep roots in the history of Jewish-Christian relations, confessional theology, and the Enlightenment quest for forms of knowledge appropriate to the modern state.

The theme of rival wives – one well loved, the other more fertile – is not new to Scripture by the time of Channah and Peninnah. Two similar relationships are recorded in the patriarchal narratives, between Rachel and Leah (Gn 29:31-30:24) and, more famously, between Sarai and Hagar (Gn 16:1-16; 21:8-21). In both of these cases, the better loved wife was incapable of bearing children only to have her womb opened by God later. Perhaps as a reaction to Jacob’s dueling wives problem, Levetical law speaks of a prohibition toward the taking of two sisters as “rival wives” (Lev 18:18). In Channah and Peninnah’s rivalry, the latter has been accused of bullying Channah for generations. The task of this study is to determine if the long standing translation of “rival wife” is adequate for the word ?aratâ. A more accurate translation exists which exonerates Peninnah completely. Traditional interpretations have assumed the base of ?aratâ to be ?arar, and on that base have built a case for Peninnah the bully. The better translation proposed here, is justified through a search of the use of the Hebrew root ?arâ, which is the more likely intended root. Additionally, the Septuagint proposes an interpretation which agrees with these conclusions. Third, a logical argument based on Channah’s actual problem and for what she seeks resolution in the House of YWHW at Shiloh finalizes the argument for a reading of ?aratâ no longer as “rival wife” but with the phrase, “her affliction.”

This paper will explore the relationship between physical violence and Israelite conceptions of personhood, with particular attention to whether or not biblical texts that call for or describe extreme violence against foreigners considered them to be "persons." I will briefly examine definitions of "personhood" before discussing two or three relevant cases. The paper will argue that violence against foreigners does not in fact result from Israelites' not considering them to be persons—human beings whose humanity is recognized as having social significance—but rather that Israelites perform these acts of violence in order to make them non-persons.

In an Old Babylonian letter, a young woman complains to her father that she has felt poorly ever since he dedicated her to Nergal. She pleads with her father to send her something lest she be seized and expelled onto the streets. She fears if this were to happen, she would "not acquire a god, who could restore" her. That is, the experience would have proven her lack of favor with her personal god. (See Frankena, AbB 6 140.) This young woman's potentially problematic situation well-illustrates the plight of the supplicants in shuila-prayers, the best-attested genre of Akkadian prayers. In this presentation, I will introduce shuila-prayers generally and discuss the position of the supplicant vis-à-vis two groups mentioned in the texts, the supplicant's personal gods and their enemies (human and demonic). As a survey of the prayers shows, the supplicant is often caught between the neglect of their personal gods, on the one hand, who were withholding health, success, and general well-being, and the unwanted attention of their human or demonic enemies, on the other, who had brought illness, misfortune, and malaise. As the formulaic prayers show, the supplicant appeals to a high god in the pantheon to restore the presence of the personal gods and to banish their enemies, thereby restoring the equilibrium to the supplicant's life. Although the shuilas may never mention physical displacement or exile, they strongly bear witness to the crisis of those who had lost divine presence as well as to the ritual process used by such people to dispel unwanted encumbrances.

Pharaoh Shoshenk I’s campaign against Israel (ca. 928 BCE) has long provided a chronological framework against which to measure the biblical account of a newly divided kingdom in 1 Kings 12. In this division, Jerusalem under Rehoboam is isolated from Israel ruled by Jeroboam, centered at Shechem and then Tirzah. The topographical list of Shoshenk’s invasion, however, mentions neither Israel nor Jerusalem by name, and it is thus impossible to verify the identities of political bodies beyond individually named sites. Yet the combination of regions attacked and avoided offers valuable historical information regarding tenth-century Israel. Moreover, the timing and geographical targets of the campaign suggest external confirmation of key elements in the biblical account: a moment of weakness explained by the recent political division and Israel’s return to decentralized power, and a looping route that suits the expansive Israelite geography associated with David and Solomon. According to Shoshenk’s list, Egypt invades Israel in a counter-clockwise fashion that moves through sites associated with Benjamin and Ephraim, the Transjordan, and the Jezreel Valley, then down to the deep south of the Negeb. Notably, the campaign entirely avoids Jerusalem and the area to its south. Thus, Shoshenk’s careful traversing of the land displays an extensive, highly decentralized Israel in the tenth century, while the deliberate sidestepping of Jerusalem and the highlands south to Beer-sheba, along with the southern shephelah, indicates a developed political area around Jerusalem. In this paper, I propose that Shoshenk’s campaign confirms the early political rupture between Israel and a Jerusalem-based polity, and provides indirect evidence for the existence of David, if the timing depends on the split recalled in 1 Kings 12.

While much discussion has been concerned with whether or not professional academics should blog there has been relatively less attention given to whether or not students should blog, especially students who want to become scholars themselves someday. The two main reasons a student might avoid blogging would be time management and online reputation. Should a student spend time maintaining something like a blog when that time could be used mastering Hebrew, Greek, and other ancient and modern research languages? Similarly, why write something to be placed on a blog when that time might be used preparing an article or book review for a journal? Alongside concerns related to time management, isn’t it possible that one’s public persona in the blogosphere may hinder their opportunities in the academy? What if a student writes something that potentially could offend a member of an admissions committee, a faculty supervisor, or even an employer someday? This paper will have a very specific focus: the primary dangers associated with blogging if one is a student who aims to be a scholar someday. The following subtopics will be explored: (1) ruining one’s public reputation; (2) offending potential educators and/or employers; (3) failing to blog on subjects related to your field of study; (4) the impact on time management; and (5) blogging rather than prioritizing other forms of writing. These points will be supported through a combination of real-life examples (provided with permission or found publically online) and academic insights into the nature of the blogosphere. This paper will not aim to discourage student blogging, but rather to raise awareness for students who are blogging or considering blogging in order to assist these students in making an informed decision.

Nearly forty years after Ze’ev Meshel excavated the caravansary in Kuntillet ?Ajrud with the famous inscriptions on plaster and on two pithoi, belonging to the most important epigraphic findings from state-period Israel, the eagerly awaited and long announced editio magna has been published at last (2012). This is all the more important, since the recovered sherds are lost again and unavailable for independent examination. Under these circumstances the present paper evaluates the new edition, focusing on the three religious pithos-inscriptions: (1) The photographs, to some extent published for the first time, on the one hand confirm clearly and verifiably several important readings – notably the phrases ›Yhwh and his Asherah‹ and ›Yhwh from Samaria/Te(y)man. These results substantiate central differentiations in the preexilic history of Yahweh that have been intensively discussed in religious-historical research. On the other hand, several readings resp. completions (proposed in recent research) now can be falsified. (2) But beyond that, the present edition features severe problems and limitations: The main deficiency consists in the mediocre and partially amateurish quality of the photographs (e.g. Inscr. 3.9, middle part). Even measured by contemporaneous standards, the photos could have been much more precise and accurate. (3) For further research this lamentable situation leaves, in my opinion, only one way to proceed: to work with the published photos. Using modern elec-tronic tools of image data processing, a few passages seem to be better de-cipherable (e.g. Inscr. 3.6, lines 5ff; Inscr. 3.8, line 1, Inscr. 3,9). Thereby, it’s crucial to refer constantly to the photographic material in order to be able to evaluate transparently the suggested understandings. Starting with secure readings, continuing with delimiting possible options (based on letter traces, lacunas etc.), and finally developing overall interpretations. Lastly, and trying to make a virtue out of necessity, we probably need to think much more in multiple scenarios than in exclusive alternatives: Based on the state of information currently (and probably for the time being) available, the preserved pithos-inscriptions in several cases allow for more than one hypothesis – whereof religious-historical research on preexilic Israel can and should profit.

The book of Ezra-Nehemiah depicts both of its main protagonists, Ezra the Scribe and Nehemiah the Pehah, as dealing with the “problem” of mixed marriages between the men of Yehud and women from neighboring nations. In the “Makkedah” ostraca published in recent years, several of the people mentioned have “Jewish” names with Yahwistic theophoric elements, while their descendants have “Edomite” names, including the theophoric element “QWS”. This has been seem as a sign of “low boundary maintenance” and relative flexibility of religious/ethnic identity under Persian rule. A similar situation can be seen in the Elephantine material. This paper will examine the literary and historical contexts of the “mixed marriage” episodes in Ezra and Nehemiah and attempt to understand their background in light of the reality of the Persian Period, as seen in the Makkedah and Elephantine inscriptions.

The so-called “reforms” of Josiah, or, to put it another way: The long term trend toward the elimination of local altars, bamot, and larger cult sites in Jerusalem and Judah, reported in II Kings, inevitably enhanced the singularity of the Temple of Jerusalem. The best explanation for this trend is to be found in the rising power of the prophetic movement in cooperation with Jerusalem priesthood, both of which promoted henotheism and then monotheism. Both viewed traditional, local cult sites as threats to their success. At issue was the older selective polytheism which never seemed to go away. This is the nationalist mentality that dominates core Deuteronomy. The decision to limit sacrificial worship to the Temple of Jerusalem was crucial to the later survival of the exilic community in Babylonia and motivated the Return to a considerable extent. Sacred space was henceforth to be limited to only one place on earth.

Expanding prayer to include Jewish worship, that is, Torah reading, sermon, targum, and piyyut this presentation deals with prayer and other forms of worship in Rabbinic Judaism.

This paper will examine the placement and displacement of monumental inscriptions in Israelite and Neo-Assyrian cultic contexts. It will review archaeological and literary evidence for the ritual deployment and manipulation of inscribed stelas in Mesopotamian and Levantine sanctuary settings (e.g. Tell Tayinat; Tell al Rima; Sefire; Deut 27:2-8; Josh 8:30-35). The paper will describe the West Asian ritual and political environment in which monumental inscriptions were publically engaged as textual and iconic representations of divine will and royal presence. It will focus on the installation, ritualization, and violation of inscriptions and will highlight Israelite variations on these practices, including those associated with the Ark of the Covenant. The paper will argue for the role of monumental inscriptions in the textualization of Iron II Levantine temple cult.

The aim of my paper will be to emphasize the exceptional interest of the Philonian corpus, in order to improve our knowledge of Hellenistic and Middle-Platonic doctrines of gnoseology. We will try to explore the following points: -How to define a methodology for the study of Philonic passages dealing with gnoseology and epistemology? Philo was not a "professional" philosopher; his erudite references are very often mixed, in a very intricate way, with a lot of theological reflections. It would be absurd not to consider such a rich source, but its use requires special care. In any case, the problem of methodology still requires to be deepened. -Philo is a "grand témoin" to the conversion of Neo-Academic scepticism, essentially an anti-Stoic structure, in a doctrine of knowledge founded on Platonic concepts. At the same time, he is the first to have heard about the Neo-Pyrrhonian tropes, coined by Aenesidemus. The powerful dynamic of the evolution and confrontation of doctrines is intensely present in his work. We will try to demonstrate that the concepts of "eclecticism" and "syncretism" are particularly inappropriate to account for this presence. -How are these philosophical concepts integrated in the negative theology that is the entire reason for Philo's writing his exegetical treatises?

Of all the “pilgrim arts” graffiti is by far the most common. Scratched onto shrine walls, doorposts, column bases, and stairs, such marks are rarely elaborate or decoratively fine. Archaeologist have catalogued many of these images and, in some cases, proposed meanings, but to date graffiti has received little sustained attention from scholars of pilgrimage. One 6th century pilgrim, the anonymous traveler from Piacenza, even recorded his own act of pious graffiti: that he wrote the names of his parents on the same bench on which Jesus purportedly reclined at Cana. Jonathan Z. Smith famously described this gesture as effecting a kind of lasting "Kilroy was here,” but like a passing glimpse of a sprayed underpass from a train window, his analysis moves on quickly. Certainly, a desire to transform the public and monumental into the private and to record a personal achievement — the conquest of space — often drives graffiti artists, but in this case, the written names are not those of the traveler, but rather of his parents. Here the impulse to inscribe presence seems more imperative, and suggests the fruitfulness of considering other kinds of bodily traces found at shrines. The fact that many graffiti have a strongly petitionary aspect also suggests a desire on the part of the pilgrim to enlist others in the on-going work of remembrance and intercession, and links these personal material traces to the monument itself, which was often figured as speaking to on-lookers. The undeniably physical aspect of graffiti (so unsettling in our own day) can, in fact, be seen as encapsulating the problem of the material dimension of language, which is the central problem of pilgrimage in general, and of devotional gestures in particular.

Over the years, scholars have dealt with the resurrection of Jesus in various ways. Two recent works, by Michael R. Licona (The Resurrection of Jesus. A New Historiographical Approach, 2010) and Markus Vinzent (Christ’s Resurrection in Early Christianity and the Making of the New Testament, 2011) seemingly take opposite positions with regard to the historical importance of the resurrection in the rise of the movement that later became known as ‘Christianity’. This paper will respond to the works mentioned, and focus on two questions: 1) how should the earliest language on the resurrection of Jesus be understood?, and 2) how did the discourse on resurrection contribute to the formation of the Christ movement as a separate religious identity? The first question intends to map the ideas on resurrection that our earliest sources appeal to. The second focuses on the historical importance of Jesus’ resurrection in the formation of the movement that came to carry his name. The wide range of literature involved will be narrowed down by concentrating on the earliest sources: the letters of Paul and the canonical gospels.

Thecla’s late ancient legacy is a mixed one. Her roles as exemplary virgin and willing martyr are extolled in many literary and artistic representations, while her more controversial activities in the Acts of Paul and Thecla—self-baptizing, cross-dressing, becoming an apostolic teacher like Paul—are often (but not always) omitted. In surviving Syriac translations of Severus of Antioch’s ninety-seventh Cathedral homily, we find an especially interesting instance of representing Thecla, her gender, and her place in history: characterization of Thecla as a highly masculine saint of the apostolic past. Severus directly addresses controversial aspects of her story and performs a balancing act as he seeks to affirm both Thecla’s exemplary status and the ecclesial laws she appears to have broken. My aim is to elucidate Severus’ portrayal of Thecla with attention to his efforts to resolve contradictions in his portraying, showing how classifications of gender and temporal period are made alternately fluid and rigid in his discourse. Thecla, though spoken of as a woman and held up for imitation by women, is linked to a series of biblical male contemporaries and forefathers; her virility moves beyond traditionally acceptable expectations for virtuous, “manly” women in ancient Christian society, and her depiction as a restored Adam contrasts with the restoration of Eve that Severus highlights in his other sermons and hymns on female saints. At the same time, Severus upholds restrictions on women’s activities, limiting the ways they might imitate such a model. In regard to Thecla’s location in time, we find Severus assigning her a place in the period of apostolic activity, prior to canon laws and prohibitions of women teaching. Severus thereby justifies her teaching and cross-dressing while defending church policies that prohibit them, drawing firm boundaries between past and present ages. Yet, true to his panegyric task, he folds time together to bring saints of the past near to Christians of the present, urging imitation and promoting a universal ideal of the renewed “inner human being” that constitutes the image of God. Thus Thecla’s inward virile character and its outer expressions become a prime site for witnessing the slippage of gender categories and periodization between a fluidity taken for granted and the rigidity of boundary-marking and its authority.

The majority of studies examining the unity of the Book of the Twelve (B12) have been on the Hebrew text since most scholars consider the sequence of books in this version to be original. Some have argued LXX Twelve Prophets (LXX TP) lacks the frequency of catchwords between books, a major feature in the Hebrew version of B12. The result is that scholars have not explored LXX TP as a unified collection to the degree they have done so with the Hebrew version of B12. In this paper I attempt to demonstrate that LXX TP possesses significant catchwords specific to the Greek text. Septuagint scholars have begun to read LXX books as distinct works in their own right, rather than merely as sources for text-critical inquiry. When this kind of analysis is applied to LXX TP, it can be demonstrated that the translator read the Twelve Prophets as a unity. In this paper I explore catchword connections between Hosea and Malachi, the book ends of both the Hebrew and Greek versions of B12. I argue that these Greek catchwords function beyond the scope of the books in which they are found, and contribute to understanding LXX TP as an integrated collection. Key unifying themes within B12 feature prominently within Hosea and Malachi, and the presence of catchwords suggest that the translator understood Malachi to be the conclusion to the Twelve. LXX TP possesses its own distinct theological emphases, and its Greek terminology highlights the fact that it was written to address needs particular to Diaspora Jews in the Hellenistic period.

From the 18th century to the present, NT textual critics have used biological metaphors and methodologies to reconstruct the history of NT manuscript transmission. Species classification, genealogy, evolutionary adaptation, and DNA sequences have all been useful for understanding and explaining text types, variants, and corruption. But analogies come with limitations - how has imagining the texts of the NT as biological beings influenced and limited the field of textual criticism?

This paper explores the poetic transposition of order, oblivion and potentiality in creation and geographical mythology in the prophetic corpus, concentrating on images of gardens, wilderness, and habitable, productive land. Myth is broadly conceived here as resulting from a creative play between different imagined (and experienced) worlds in order to create a new “word-world” in which disjunction and dissonance can be explored, resolved or even openly celebrated. The accent on mythic “play” develops from the thought of J.Z. Smith who also notes that scholarship tends to operate on similar exploration of differences. In this vein, select passages from Hosea, Isaiah, Habakkuk and other prophetic books will be examined in the light of a playful comparator: the transformative, liminal, and enchanted wood of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer’s Night Dream and Theseus’ speech that the poet, madman, and lover are, “of imagination all compact”. These three figures are useful tools to think through the conflicting images of the impassioned deity whose violence, mercy, and desire to be heard are the prophet’s muses, and the divine word becomes the seductive knowledge of good and evil. Prophetic/poetic exploration of this landscape that is both paradisiacal garden and killing field results in new word-worlds in which successive readers (and writers) can then see themselves. While taking an overtly playful, subjective, and literary approach some light can be shed on the literary worlds produced by ancient Israel’s scribes in which they must have seen themselves as somehow connected to the prophets who stood in the liminal space between the human and divine realms.

This paper argues for a form of deification in the Gospel of Thomas (NHC II,2). Deification in this document has a dual underpinning: (1) the fact that Thomasine Christians share many of the same divine predicates and traits as Jesus, and (2) the direct identification of the elect with Jesus. Like Paul, Thomas presents a soteriology of assimilation to Jesus’ character and nature. Unlike Paul, Jesus is not presented as a deliberate model, and assimilation to Jesus bleeds more readily into identification. Like John’s gospel, Thomas presents a Jesus who is fully divine. Unlike John, Jesus’ divine traits and predicates are shared by all the elect so that the Thomasine Christian functions very much like the Johannine Christ. The identification of Thomasine Christians with Jesus presents a soteriology of gemination—a scenario in which the elect become equal to Jesus, and even his “twin.” Since Jesus in the Gospel of Thomas is presented as a divine figure, Thomasine gemination is simultaneously a form of deification.

Composed in the second century B.C.E., the book of Jubilees retells the book of Genesis and the first section of Exodus, systematically dating the narrated events in units of weeks and jubilees. While the book does not refer directly to the theme of children or childhood, its reworking of the biblical stories reflects its author’s ideas regarding parents-child relations. According to Jubilees, the patriarchs fulfilled all their filial duties, being obedient to their parents, never abandoning them, and providing for them regularly and willingly. The book’s portrayal of parental love similarly suggests that it is closely linked to the moral conduct of their children, parents being prone to love children whom they know God has chosen—Shem, Isaac, and Jacob, for example. The detailed chronological data given in Jubilees also sheds light on what age the author viewed “adulthood” as referring to, the two variant interpretations of the statement “the child grew up” (cf. Gen 21:8; Exod 2:10-11) he provides demonstrating that he links it to one-year-old babies and twenty-one-year-old youths alike. In addition, the aggadic additions regarding Abraham, Jacob and Joseph indicate that a boy becomes an adult at fourteen—a number that, like others associated with the biblical protagonists, is quite probably dictated in Jubilees by its relation to the number seven—at which point he can be called upon to fight evil angels and/or human enemies on the battlefield.

This paper brings together ancient and modern discourses of motherhood and martyrdom to interrogate the taboo surrounding the threat children pose to women’s Christian identity. Recent literature on secularisation has noted feminisms’ challenge to the identification of piety with motifs of womanhood, which has arguably contributed to contemporary shifts in women’s Christian identity, such as their disaffiliation to Church and/or a departure to non-traditional forms of spirituality (Brown, 2009; Aune et al, 2008). Women's agency to make choices about their lives – work, reproductive rights, equitable sexual relationships – has contributed to women leaving or redefining Christianity (Woodhead 2008). One outcome of women’s changing gender roles is an appraisal of motherhood (Rich 1976) as a perceived choice, manifest in the increasing number of women expressing ambivalence towards, or rejecting biological motherhood (Gillespie 2000). In a recent qualitative study, ‘Motherhood, Voluntary Childlessness and Christianity’ (Llewellyn 2012), this theme emerges within contemporary Christianity, despite pro-natalist discourses that women are ‘supposed’ to be mothers; to be a Christian woman is to be a mother (cf. 1 Tim. 2.15). However, participants report that motherhood subsumes and threatens their Christian identity, employing the language of ‘martyrdom’ to describe feelings of self-sacrifice; but are aware that expressing negative feelings towards children, particularly in Church, is taboo. Nonetheless, children threatening mothers’ Christian identity is not a contemporary dilemma, but is anticipated in the earliest Christian martyr narratives. In stories of women martyrs (Perpetua, Felicitas, Agathonice), motherhood poses a threat to Christian identity: children are an obstacle to be overcome before they can undergo martyrdom. As Middleton (2012) has argued, in these martyrological dramas one cannot be a mother and a Christian. This papers examines the competing identities of ‘mother’ and ‘Christian', arguing that the contemporary voices articulating what initially appears taboo, is in fact located securely within Christian tradition.

The 'Shepherd of Hermas' includes, in the so-called 'mandata', the earliest example of a systematic development and foundation of moral teaching in Early Christian writings. The paper investigates the importance and function of the lexematic field and the theme of paideia for the writing (which is often labelled as an early Christian "apocalypse") within the broader context of early Christian literature.

See online: http://www.ibr-bbr.org (Research Groups: A Pneumatic Hermeneutic).

The book of Jeremiah has two distinct versions—one in Hebrew (H) and the other in Greek (OG). These two traditions have different orders, hermeneutical goals, and character portrayals. One of the most interesting variances of character is between Ebed-melech (H) and Abdemelech (OG). Ebed-melech is identified as “one of the eunuchs who was in the king’s house” (38.7), while Abdemelech receives no such title (45.7). This distinction plays a significant role in how the two speak and their relationship with the king. In H, the eunuch speaks respectfully to Zedekiah, his master, and never places blame on him for the maltreatment of the prophet Jeremiah (38.9). In contrast, Abdemelech bluntly accuses Sedekias of the attempted murder of Ieremias (45.9). My paper will argue—with support from the manuscript tradition—that the editors of H deliberately castrate Ebed-melech as well as his words. This was part of a greater redaction that desired to portray Zedekiah as a tragic anti-hero. To do so, the editors shifted Adbdemelech’s indictments toward the Judahite officials, tamed his tongue, and forced him into the subordinate role of a Cushite eunuch.

Discovered in 1813, the cross in a bakery of Pompeii’s Insula 6 was initially deemed by the chief archaeologist (François Mazios) to be an artifact indicating the presence of Jesus-followers in this Greco-Roman city. While Mazios’s view gained initial support, it has fallen out of fashion in the intervening years. One of the reasons for this is the inability to explain adequately the function of a cross of Jesus-devotion in its architectural location. In this paper, the consensus view will be reconsidered in light of the ancient sensitivities to liminal spaces – spaces in which the membrane is thin between the sensory world and the suprahuman forces of evil. Further, an inventory of apotropaic artifacts within the bakery allows us to recognize in this bakery a religious context in which devotion to a crucified god is not out of place. Further still, several aspects of the bakery’s character shed light on the economic location of the baker who sought protection from his crucified god and who may have sponsored a group of Pompeian Jesus-followers.

Sociologists have done significant work over the years on the nature of greetings and farewells and how they are often rooted in religious/superstitious consciousness to wish/pray health upon another. Also noted is the way secularization reduces characteristic phrases to mere formulas for social engagement and disengagement. Shifting from a highly secularized society in Australian to the southern United States has highlighted for the current author the possibility that religious/superstitious intent may still exist in greetings and farewells. This idea is brought to bear on Paul’s use of greetings and farewells, particularly in Philippians. Christian consciousness may have driven the apostle’s choice to change the traditional health wish (“joy”) to his characteristic “grace and peace.” This has implications in Philippians, but also for Pauline epistolography in general. It may serve to demonstrate that Paul’s opening “prayer” begins sooner than his so-called Thanksgiving. In the case of Galatians, where many argue there is no opening prayer, this may force reconsideration (Cf. ?µ?? in 1:5). More particularly for Philippians there are “farewell” implications. Paul’s repeated discussion of his own rejoicing and call for his audience to “rejoice in the Lord,” may be an attempt to Christianize a regular farewell of his day in light of fears they will never see him again.

It is often observed that Luke 2:41-52 contains the motif of the precocious child, particularly in v. 47 where “everyone” is said to be “amazed at [the child’s] understanding and his answers.” While scholars cite many parallels in their analysis of this pericope, the function of each referenced youth description within its own particular work is not often considered. This paper will examine the nature of precocious youth descriptions within the historiographical (and biographical) realm and the relevant conceptual framework as it relates to character (ethos). Part of this framework includes the rhetorical education; particularly, the exercise of encomium in the Progymnasmata simultaneously reveals and reinforces the relevant categories of basic information about a (significant) person. Against this backdrop I will summarize my analysis of certain youth descriptions within Pseudo-Herodotus’ Life of Homer, Philo’s Moses, Josephus’ Antiquities and Life, and Plutarch’s Themistocles, showing how each description corresponds to the larger narrative and the author’s purposes for the work. I will argue that the inclination to include a precocious youth episode may have been informed by a rhetorical education. Furthermore, despite the awareness of factors contributing to character development in the ancient world, historiographical and biographical accounts typically did not focus on this. Descriptions often correspond to later manifestations of ethos within the narrative (e.g., praxis, speech, manner of living, etc.), popular conceptions of that person, and/or recognizable character-types that are thematically significant to the author and his audience. It will be argued that precocious descriptions are carefully selected, adapted, or created by the author in order to introduce themes or aspects of the character (ethos) deemed especially relevant to the author’s own purpose for the work. Finally, I will suggest how this should inform the interpretation of Luke 2:41-52.

In conversation with Articles 23, 24, and 25 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR), this paper offers a theological-political-economic reading of biblical sabbath, especially as the theme appears in the Bible’s first creation story. The paper argues that the story’s dual climax -- the creation of human beings in the image of God and the sanctification of seventh-day rest -- offers a utopian critique of imperial political economy in the ancient world that remains theologically potent today. The authors draw from the Babylonian creation poem Enuma Elish and subvert its understanding of the nature and destiny of most people -- to be slaves to the gods (and their earthly representatives in the imperial court). Instead, Genesis says, human beings are born to share and exercise power in a flourishing world teeming with abundance. Seventh-day rest for God in the Genesis story mirrors the leisure the gods enjoy at the end of Enuma Elish when humans are created to do the gods’ grunt work. But, in contrast to the imperial story, Genesis implicitly invites women and men, created in the image of God and thus empowered to rule, to share divine rest as well, an implication picked up and made explicit in the sabbath regulation in the Exodus Decalogue (Exod 20:8-11). Human labor, in this view, is not endless toil in the service of a god-blessed elite. It is, rather, the shared work of empowered men and women, labor with limits and mandated periods of rest (cf. UDHR, Articles 23-24) that has broad implications for economics and ethics. The creation-based rationale for sabbath-keeping in Exodus 20 thus has more in common with the exodus-based rationale in the deuteronomic Decalogue (Deut 5:12-15) than initially meets the eye. Both are rooted in resistance to an (imperial) economic order built on impoverishment, debt, and debt servitude.

This paper argues that fire imagery functioned on multiple registers within late ancient monastic Christian discourse, capable of embodying divine favor as well as divine wrath. The classic biblical image of Moses and the burning bush, a depiction of the divine as physically manifest in fire, was appropriated by monastics as an image for portraying their intensely self-violent lifestyle. That is, a monastic who had proper orientation toward the divine was believed capable of religious experiences, such as being engulfed like the bush, burning but not hurt. Monastics also might be led by God’s pillar of fire, just as the Israelites had been. But such fire imagery served not only to highlight the monk’s intimate relationship to the divine; it also functioned to delineate orthodox identities through legitimated violence against “wrong-acting” others. This othering was tied to the rhetorical work fire performed in constructions of heresy. The ability of fire to spread rapidly served to invoke proper fear of heretical teachings. Monks as holy men thus acted as conduits through which divine fire and occasionally divine violence flowed. Sometimes that power resulted their own destruction, the flame being turned on them. For example, the suppression and hereticizing of Origenist monks was slotted into a larger narrative about divine justice and retribution. God was understood to punish these heretics through human agents of “divine justice,” bishops and other monks. The problem with the narrative of just, divine violence was precisely its objects were holy men, monks held to be imbued with the fiery divine spirit. Thus, Christians struggled to rectify the miraculous lives of these divine men with a God that could abruptly pivot to demand divine violence against God’s own holy monks.

Just as the Transfiguration occurs at the meeting of mediators heavenly (Moses and Elijah) and earthly (the disciples), so too do its narrative features evoke aspects of contemporary discourses within theopolitical thought and postcolonial studies. This paper uses Luke’s account to explore how the narrative serves interests of social change from both theoretical perspectives, confronting the notion of the state of exception with that of subaltern trauma and colonial mimicry. While aspects of the story such as glory, ministration, and voice resonate with the work of Giorgio Agamben, its inter- and intra-textual evocations are illuminated by recourse to postcolonial narrative in a way that helpfully complicates Agamben’s theories. Luke’s Transfiguration exemplifies Agamben’s observation concerning the link between ontology and ministration; while Jesus takes on a divine substance, his interlocutors are the prototypical envoys of Jewish tradition, and their topic of conversation is Jesus’s “departure” or exodos, indicating both his impending journey to Jerusalem (the plot from Luke 9:51-19:26) and the death he will experience upon his arrival. Jesus’s divine and ministerial aspects are here joined, as in Agamben, by the notion of “glory” (doxa), another unique Lukan feature. While Luke’s Gospel looks forward to God’s kingdom (the Transfiguration being its foretaste), such glory does not remain (despite Peter’s wishes) and is ultimately replaced by a voice—another concept Agamben links to death. Ultimately, the exception put forth in the earliest Christian story is not a matter of sovereign decision but one of subaltern proclamation despite trauma. Postcolonial attention to mimicry and ambivalence shows how, through narrative, oppressed subjects institute an exceptional logic of their own—an idea perhaps already present in Agamben’s emphasis on the political role of popular acclamation. Postcolonial theories of narrative explain how exception can be deployed from a position of dispossession through subversive glorification.

In the late fourth-century, the author of the Historia Monachorum in Aegypto, the main literary testimony of Christians at Oxyrhynchus, boasts that the city abounds with monasteries, both within its walls and outside. He even claims that almost as many monks as lay people inhabit the city, with “ten thousand monks and twenty thousand nuns” under the bishop’s jurisdiction. Scholars generally take this statement as an exaggeration. My paper investigates the documentary evidence for monasticism at Oxyrhynchus in relation to this passage.

The discoveries of the Nag Hammadi Codices in 1945 and the Dishna hoard in 1952, reportedly made only 12 kilometers apart, in close vicinity of several late antique monastic settlements, have had considerable impact on scholarship in various fields of Early Christian and Biblical Studies. With the notable exception of James M. Robinson’s pioneering work, however, these discoveries have largely been treated in isolation, within separate fields and scholarly subcommunities. Seldom have codices from the two discoveries been directly compared and their relationship discussed. This paper will contribute to such a study by comparing certain scribal features of the Nag Hammadi and Dishna codices with a view to illuminating the scribal culture(s) on display. The primary focus will be on paratextual features such as titles, layout, sigla, and marginalia.

It is often noted that imperial religious culture took a distinctive turn in the Achaemenid period. Most notably, great temples played almost no role in the central imperial system, despite rhetoric about sponsoring local temples. While cultic rituals certainly took place, the royal court with its “king in residence” became the primary object of what Margaret Cool Root calls “religiously imbued observances,” such as lavish ceremonial displays. It is perhaps surprising, therefore, that little attention has been paid to the relationship between the Chronicler’s emphases on the divine palace/temple (????) with its extravagant ceremonies, and similar emphases in the Achaemenid court, even though imitation and replication of the Persian palace and court at the local satrapial level appears likely. My paper explores several possible connections between Achaemenid symbolizations of supremacy focused on the king in his palace, and the Chronicler’s symbolizations of divine supremacy focused on Yhwh in his palace/temple. Through the medium of historical narrative, I suggest, Chronicles painted images of imperial power that rivaled and imitated Achaemenid ideologies of supremacy, and that cast a vision for Yehud’s eventual historical reemergence as a locus of power. My paper also discusses several possible channels of transmission for Achaemenid imperial ideology into Judah.

This paper gives a summary of the arguments in “Two Shipwrecked Gospels: The ‘Logoi of Jesus’ and Papias’s ‘Exposition of Logia about the Lord’” (SBL, 2012) and focuses on issues of intertextuality. In particular, Mark’s knowledge of Q/Q+, Papias’s knowledge of Q/Q+, and Luke’s knowledge of Q/Q+ and Mark, but also Matthew and Papias’s “Exposition”. If this perspective is correct, Papias made explicit reference to the lost Gospel and considered it an alternative “translation” of a hypothetical Hebrew Matthew.

In the past decade, there has been much attention given to constructions of gender in the Pastoral Epistles, including constructions of masculinity. The purpose of this paper is to contribute to the ongoing discussion with a particular focus on the role of education. The paper will begin with consideration of how emphasis on education throughout the life course and the preparation of the next generation becomes more pronounced in the Pastoral Epistles in comparison to the other disputed Pauline epistles. The paper will then draw upon recent research from Roman Family Studies to evaluate the endorsement of the role of women as educators of both daughters and sons (e.g., 2 Tim 1.5; Tit 2.3-5). But particular attention will be paid to the ideological emphasis on the education of sons by their fathers in the Greco-Roman, including knowledge of rites associated with ancestors’ traditions and ensuring family continuity. The widespread practice of surrogate fatherhood will also be examined. Depictions of teachers as a surrogate fathers will be compared to the metaphorical depiction of Timothy as Paul’s child (1 Tim 1:2; 2 Tim 1:2; 2:1), and to the fatherhood dimensions of the roles of overseer and deacon in household management and their relationship to educational expectations (1 Tim 3:1-13). Ultimately, it will be argued that the house church of this period was a space where educational and domestic priorities were in constant interaction and where contructions of gender were crucial to emerging identities.

The role of visionary experience in the development of New Testament Christology is increasingly attracting critical attention. Somewhat less attention, however, has been paid to the role and function of visions in the worshipping life of early Christian communities. This essay contends that visionary experience shapes and defines the Epistle to the Hebrews in both of these respects. The author’s personal visionary experience appears to be reflected in both the unique content and dramatized format of his portrayal of Jesus. His intent to inspire and evoke in the addressed community a vision of Jesus as the efficacious high priest and exalted Son of God is apparent in a number of rhetorical practices and hortatory strategies that appear throughout this self-professed “word of exhortation.” These visually oriented practices and strategies are expressed in three ways: (1) The author dramatizes his narrative, with speaking actors and carefully drawn characters, settings, and circumstances all serving to increase the production of visual imagery in the community’s imagination, and so encourage their substantive entry into the dramatic narrative. (2) Community is reinforced visually, as cues and commands to “behold” and “look closely at one another” are issued, solidifying their sense of family mutuality and belonging. (3) The vivid descriptions ultimately serve a mystical purpose, as the mental imagery they evoke functions as a springboard for an actual visual encounter, “setting the stage” for the community’s visual apprehension of the enthroned Son and his high priestly ministry in the heavenly sanctuary. The visual encounter is either elicited by an exhortation to “look at” or “gaze upon” Jesus, or signaled by the observation that he is “now” visible. A hortatory purpose is preeminent: conditions of suffering and marginalization have challenged the community’s commitment. The author wants them to see into the future, past their present, nearly engulfing experience of suffering, thus substantiating by sight the “now, but not yet” eschatological tension which constitutes a significant portion of his “doctrinal” presentation. Most significantly, a vision of Jesus “crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death” (2:9) will assure the community that their endurance of sufferings will issue also in divine vindication. Like Moses, they will “persevere by seeing him who is invisible” (11:27).

None

See online: http://www.ibr-bbr.org (Research Groups: Biblical Theology, Hermeneutics, and the Theological Disciplines).

Johns Hopkins University benefitted early from the archaeological interests of its first President, Daniel Coit Gilman, whose visions of scholarship and learning set the foundations for two academic departments of unusual distinction, and for a study collection that became the Johns Hopkins University Archaeological Museum. Gilman’s Baltimore friends, associates, and faculty joined him in acquiring important parts of that collection. In the twentieth century individual donors greatly increased the collection’s holdings. Currently the University, with much-needed new Museum facilities, enjoys renewed opportunities for access and research. Some of the collection’s artistic highlights, Greek, Cypriot, Etruscan, Roman, and Egyptian, are visible whenever the campus is open, in a lighted external ambulatory. Inside the Museum are additional theme cases and study drawers, as well as a seminar room where digital magnifications can be projected on a screen. Extending the history of Biblical art into objects of daily life brings to light a wide range of objects. Speaking for the Old Testament are a Nebuchadnezzor brick; a Psalm-like text written in Coptic on a wooden board; a plectrum such as David has been shown holding with his lyre, as Psalm-singer; and a Job-like terracotta figure with a Greek inscription that suggests a secular function. Corresponding to various New Testament texts as represented in works of art are such things as a glass trulla resembling the vessel used in an early Byzantine representation for pouring water over Pilate’s hands; an extensive series of lamps and lighting-fixtures, some of which are explicitly Christian; and examples of the kind of stylus used in the early Christian period for writing on wax tablets. Two of them are carved with the self-referential image of the hand extending the tablet. These and other objects vividly illustrate the environment and spread of Christian faith in the Mediterranean world.

This paper uses theories associated with social geography and post-colonial studies to analyse the Letter to the Ephesians as representative of an emergent urban religious identity of a group of Christ followers in the late first century. As such it offers a study of the letter that moves beyond strictly theological categories, debates over authorship, hypotheses about the relation of Ephesians to tensions between Jews and non-Jews, and instead invites a consideration of its ecclesiology, theology, and christology in an imperial urban context. The paper thus seeks to deploy a variety of methods of interpretation that help us raise new questions about the letter and its social location. The Letter to the Ephesians is paradoxical. On the one hand it defines ideal listeners who once in darkness now live as children of light. On the other hand, it uses imperial civic vocabulary to define its audience as citizens, and to celebrate its ideals with topoi and imagery associated with imperial concord. The paper analyses this paradox with the help of social geographer Edward Soja's notion of Thirdspace, a term he coined to describe culturally and geographically innovative uses of space and cultural meaning that invert traditional associations and contest normalizing uses of place. Thirdspace enables both recognition of Ephesians' uses of imperial motifs and images and its innovations of them. It offers a means of social analysis of Ephesians otherwise passed over by more traditional tools of historical-critical analysis. The paper begins by outlining Ephesians’ civic imaginary as both sharply differentiated from the world around it and configured by it through its adaptations of civic language and images. It continues by locating civic language and ideals against the backdrop of imperial imagery, especially that produced in Ephesus and environs to celebrate Flavian peace and its urban benefits, as well as imagery dedicated to concord/homonoia and urban well-being. It notes instances of imperial hybridity in Ephesians and then takes up that hybridity by relating it to the social world of Ephesians’ listeners – probably insulae. This enables a closer investigation of the social dimensions of Ephesians’ civic vocabulary and ecclesiology and the ways in which the urban multicultural context of the late first-century urban world of Asia Minor furnished an opportunity for the construction of religious identity. Putting all these elements together, the letter reveals the uses of available imperial and civic themes to outline religious ideals, but in a way that promotes those ideals through a series of striking Christological reversals. In doing so it manifests a form of hybridity described by Homi Bhabha in his discussion of colonial mimicry.

The accessibility of social media in general and blogging in particular has democratized media publishing in the twenty-first century. Though authorities or “gatekeepers” persist even in social media, power has shifted substantially from institutions, organizations, and traditional publishers to the content-creators, authors. This democratization, coupled with ever-advancing web technologies, provides bibliobloggers unique opportunities to further scholarship related to biblical studies (and other fields). This paper suggests specific ways bibliobloggers can and should pursue these opportunities. First, a number of media underutilized by bibliobloggers will be discussed, including podcasting, video production, webinars, and e-publication. It will be suggested that the ease of producing high quality content through these means provides bibliobloggers low- (or no-) cost solutions for more successfully distributing meaningful content related to biblical studies. Second, two positive outcomes of utilizing social media in ways outlined above (and some accompanying limitations) will be discussed: providing free or low-cost education to interested parties and advancing scholarship through web publication. Finally, opportunities for monetization will be considered and evaluated (e.g., paid-blogging, advertising, pay-walls, product creation, etc.). Although a few prominent bibliobloggers have pursued monetization, the concept has received mixed reactions within the community. It will be argued that bibliobloggers should consider certain means of monetizing their blogs, but only in a way fitting with the “open-source” mindset prevalent among blogging communities, including bibliobloggers.

Scholars have long debated as to what historical background might provide an adequate contextualization of Paul’s all too brief arguments in the letter to Philemon, particularly because they have held that this letter will properly provide an answer about slavery. Only recently have a very small group considered the relevance of the sexual use (chresis) of slaves in antiquity as providing some clues for understanding Paul’s letters. This use of slaves was both ubiquitous and unexceptional, but is seldom noted when evaluating Paul’s claims about Onesimus being “useful” in Phlm 11 (previously achreston, then euchreston). This is likely because sexual topics are still seen as inappropriate for scholarly projects in biblical studies, perhaps especially when one is already treating another ethically fraught and politically troublesome topic like slavery. Yet, it is imperative that one confronts the appalling ways Pauline arguments glibly repeat and even joke about the sexual use of slaves. Beyond identifying such arguments, then, this project suggests that one productive way to counter this worldview is to juxtapose it with an alternative erotic ethic that signals other ways to configure scripts of sexual submission safely, sanely, and consensually, that is, among BDSM communities. BDSM (bondage discipline, dominance submission, sadism masochism) has long been an important and illuminating subject within queer studies, but has only occasionally been considered in biblical studies and rarely (if ever) in the study of Paul’s letters. Because the letter so painfully evokes horrifying circumstances around the use of human beings, this project suggests that it would be better to be inappropriate to these circumstances, unlike them in re-appropriating this letter, only now in light of this aspect of queer contextual hermeneutics. Though it is patently improper, it is queerly relevant to juxtapose two non-identical figures of opprobrium and vilification: the ancient slave and the “slave” role played in some BDSM scenes. Such a reading of the chresis of Onesimus adapts postcolonial and queer strategies of catachresis (“improper use”) in order to highlight how certain practices within BDSM have the potential to acknowledge, rework, and even transform social imaginaries. Such restagings do not cover over or evade the horrors and atrocities of embodied violence against slaves (as most biblical scholarship is still prone to do), but negotiate with them explicitly, making visible traumatic histories and structures of domination. Rather than reinscribing the inequalities that accompany these histories, BDSM dynamics can show that pleasures in scripts of power and control, as intertwined with sexuality and embodied states, are not in and of themselves problematic, but ancient slavery’s coercion and lack of consent are. This ancient system still haunts our sexual ethics, but BDSM shows that this is not the only possible combination of these features; their strategic use can generate not domination, but pleasures across multiple bodily sites. Such a contextual strategy brings atypical conversation partners together, while challenging what might count as the proper method for contextual biblical interpretation.

Paul’s description of his ascent to paradise in 2 Cor 12:1-10 includes a puzzling double reference to his uncertainty about whether it was a bodily or non-bodily experience (vv. 2, 3). That Paul would reiterate his uncertainty about this matter in an overtly apologetic section of the letter is striking, especially in light of the allusive nature of this visionary description. Scholars have not arrived at any firm conclusions about this, and they often appeal to the overall rhetoric of 2 Corinthians for explanations. This paper moves in a different direction, proposing that descriptions of revelatory experiences in Jewish and Christian apocalypses clarify why Paul underscores his visionary uncertainty in 2 Cor 12:2-3. More specifically, there is a great deal of ambivalence in the extant apocalypses regarding the mode of visionary experiences in general – and particularly the visionary experiences of paradise – especially in apocalypses containing otherworldly journeys. After a survey of the early apocalypses, this paper will suggest that Paul highlights his uncertainty because he likely expects his opponents, at a minimum, to be familiar with the ambivalence documented in the extant apocalypses. In other words, he probably flags his uncertainty in order to acknowledge that this was a recognized issue for readers of apocalypses. If this is the case, it leads to the conclusion that Paul, in relating his own experience of paradise, assumed that his opponents held conceptions of paradise that were shaped by the descriptions found in the apocalypses.

In examples from the Babylonian Talmud young men enact ritual practices surrounding food that differ from, or even displease, their fathers. My current study considers these cases, whether they involve ignoring hierarchical aspects of birkat hamazon, the Grace after Meals; or choosing a less stringent practice regarding the amount of time needed to separate the eating of meat and milk. These cases reveal a tension between an autonomous son and ideals of transmission. In considering these tensions I ask what is it about rabbinic education concerning ritual that allows these sons/disciples not only to experiment with such practices but also to share with their parent that they have transformed this practice. This leads to the larger question: how did rabbinic movements construct the younger generation as “learners”? Pierre Bourdieu considers the possibility of such transformation: "To change the world, one has to change the ways of making the world, that is, the vision of the world and the practical operations by which groups are produced and reproduced" (In Other Words: Essays Towards a Reflexive Sociology (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1990), 137). My exploration of this ritual reproduction reveals a core ambivalence that must credit students with intelligence but wrestles with resulting implications concerning authority.

You know the one. She sits as far away from the professor as possible, sidles in and out of class without a word, and looks mortified when you ask her a question. You think she is bored, disengaged – even contemptuous. Then you read her paper, and it is AMAZING. The thought occurs: maybe it wasn’t her…maybe it was me. Blended learning strategies offer breakthrough opportunities to connect to the introverts in your class. Recent studies indicate that up to a third of all of our students, and a majority of our highest achievers, are introverts by nature. Many common teaching strategies reward in-the-moment participation over careful deliberation. Use of online mini-assessments, discussion forums, and electronically delivered projects offer introverted students the opportunity to take a moment to reflect and shape their response rather than blurting out an answer. This presentation will: 1. Review the current research on the “power of introverts;” 2. Describe a variety of blended-learning techniques which can be implemented in any class to engage introverted students; and 3. Detail strategies designed to make in-class small group work safe, productive, and even fun for the introverts in the room.

I argue that a holistic interpretation of biblical literature must include attention not only to the ideational/rational content of the text but also to its affective, emotive dimension. I suggest that one function of literature, and especially of biblical rhetoric, is to evoke (and provoke) the passions. That is, the ideological agenda of biblical texts includes not only what the readers should think (orthodoxy) and what they should do (orthopraxy) but also what they should desire (orthopathy). To say it another way, the text contributes to both intellectual and affective learning, which aims to develop emotional and moral sensitivities and to achieve a deep commitment to certain values. Every text includes an affective dimension, which may involve hope or despair, love or hate, trust or fear, admiration or scorn, pride or shame, joy or despondency, to mention but a few examples. The study of biblical literature, therefore, can benefit from an exegetical approach that appreciates the affective dimensions of the text. I posit that the affective dimension of the text has been overlooked and underutilized in the academic study of Scripture. It might be argued that the affective dimension is too ‘subjective’ to be included in academic study, and for this reason biblical scholarship has given little attention to this affective dimension of the biblical literature. I argue, however, that to understand the ideational/rational content of a text without also seeking to examine its emotive potential is to skew the text's message. After arguing on philosophical grounds for an exegetical approach that includes the examination of affective language, I will present case studies based upon interpretations of Genesis 22, Judges 10, Psalm 1, and the book of Revelation.

Slavery as a social institution was generally accepted by the early Christians (for instance 1 Cor 7:20-24 and Philemon). Slavery was, however, not only a social phenomena, it is frequently used in The New Testament as metaphor to describe the between humans and God (for instance Phil 1:1 and Rom 1:1) and to a lesser extent the relationship former gods and sin (Gal 4:8-9 and Rom 7:6). The paper investigates translations of the metaphorical use of doulos in English, German and Scandinavian bible translations. The paper provides first an overview of translations of doulos. Secondly, the paper points out patterns in the translations. The paper shows there is difference between English translations and German and Scandinavian translations; where the latter has a clear tendency to make invisible the metaphorical use of slavery. Lastly, I argue that studies of slavery in The New Testament and Early Christianity must not only deal with historical and textual research on slavery in Antiquity, but also the reception history of NT and slavery. Biblical translations are a part of a historicizing process of early Christianity. It is through translation ordinary (pre-critical) readers have access to the biblical world – i.e. the society and world that the texts produce. Translations establish what appears to be natural and normal for ordinary readers of the Bible. Therefore it is important to investigate how images of slavery are established (and instituted) in biblical translations.

In many of Porphry’s writings, he seeks to establish that the viewpoints and practices he advances have precedents in the wisdom of the ancient Greeks and various “barbarians.” In On the River Styx, Porphyry relies on information concerning Indian sages and their ritual practices reported by Bardaisan. This work is a figural exegesis of lines of Homer concerning the “geography” of Hades. On Porphyry’s interpretation, Homer is speaking poetically about the existence of different kinds of souls in the afterlife, and the rewards and punishments they undergo on account of their earthly lives. The main distinction he draws is between blessed souls who forget their earthly existence, being freed from images and ideas associated with perception and the faculty of phantasia, and souls who, in need of remediation and purification, still remember their life on earth. Porphyry notes that the souls of the blessed can be recalled from forgetfulness by necromantic rites involving blood. He writes at length about the nature of blood and its relation to the faculties of human perception, imagination, and thought, reflecting on parallels between blood and the vapors that nourish the celestial bodies, and on the characteristics associated with the element of water in ancient scientific discourse. It is here that he discusses Brahmanic water rituals recorded by Bardaisan. This paper explores the associations Porphyry makes between ancient Greek wisdom and the “barbarian” wisdom of Bardaisan’s Indians. It argues that Porphyry’s appropriation of this wisdom distinguishes his thought from Plotinus’ on the nature of matter. Although Porphyry maintains the usual Platonic preference for the spiritual over the material, his engagement with the wisdom of ancient sages, both Greek (Homer) and “barbarian” (Indian), forces him to theorize matter in more complex ways than Plotinus, and in ways that might have appealed to his critic, Iamblichus.

Whilst biblical narrative literature readily offers itself for performance analysis due to easily discernable plot structure, scenes, characterization, beginnings and endings, and the passage of time; prophetic literature must rely on other features for performance analysis. In Prophets, Performance and Power (2005), William Doan and Terry Giles presented a strong case for a discernible shift from the original ‘prophet as performer’ to the ‘scribe as script writer.’ Despite the lack of plot, prophetic literature can still be analysed as a script open to performance. A common characteristic of prophetic literature is that it is written in the first person, resulting in some ambiguity as to the identity of actors. Indeed, this ambiguity is central to the prophetic speech act, where a prophet speaks for God. The literature demands and expects an audience, both in its original transmission and in ongoing communities of faithful hearers and readers. Meaning is influenced by the setting of the speeches, and prophets often rely on props which enhance the setting. Finally, prophets frequently re-use established traditions in new ways, a process that may be described as improvisation, a key aspect of live performance. This paper will present the five performance features mentioned above, namely: script, actor, audience, setting, and improvisation. It will argue that these features are common to prophetic literature. Examples from the prophetic books will be given to support the claim that poetic prophetic literature is as inherently dramatic as narrative.

Analyzing Judges 6:25-32 as “narrational texture” in sociorhetorical interpretation and then narratologically, this paper will discuss the different results that can be achieved by the two methods, how narratology can help refine the analysis of narrational texture, and how a fruitful dialogue between these two approaches can produce new insights for exegetes in their reading of a Biblical text.

Many scholars have noted and catalogued the extensive and various links between the Gospels of Luke and John. A notable example is Lamar Cribbs, who has explored the connections in a series of articles. While the greatest number of similarities is found in the passion narratives, there is one notable connection found early in Luke’s gospel: the so-called anointing pericope. In an early monograph on the relationship of these two gospels, John Amedee Bailey used this pericope as his “clearest” means of demonstrating John’s dependence on Luke. Perhaps Bailey was too confident about the obvious literary relationship, but the set of passages in which a woman anoints either Jesus’ feet or head illustrates the complexities of the relationship between the gospels and suggests that a solution is not to be found in a simple, direct literary reliance.

The characterization of the false teachers in 2 Peter 2 parallels a Greco-Roman pattern of discourse identity which, according to Philip Harland (Associations, Synagogues, and Congregations:Claiming a Place in Ancient Mediterranean Society, and, Dynamics of Identity in the World of Early Christians), stereotypes and vilifies perceived opponents as sexual perverts, cannibals and murderers, all with the aim of shoring up one’s social identity at the expense of an opponent’s. Such language had earlier been used in anti-Jewish rhetoric (and also against other minority groups) within the Greco-Roman society. While the polemic in 2 Peter is between two minority groups, the author is intent on maintaining the stereotype pattern of argument by depicting the false teachers as those who invert that which is pious, right, and honoring to the gods and feasting with friends as outlined in such inscriptions as those by Lucian of Samosata, Iobakchoi, and IG II 1369 (while conceding the late dating of these documents), and thus portray them as unfit for membership in the civilized society. 2 Peter retains the sexual perversion category (1:4, etc) and re-assigns the last two categories of cannibalism and human sacrifice with polluting brutish lust and (1:9; 2:10, etc) and blasphemy – which inevitably results in death (1:10, 2:2, 10, etc), respectively, and thus retaining the purity focus of the Greco-Roman stereotype. On the same token, the author of 2 Peter is intent on the construction of its primary audience’s identity as that whose virtues affirm its rightful place among acceptable Greco-Roman associations, collegia and assemblies. Such a move, however, runs counter to the author’s own apocalyptic argument. These conflicting interests seem to inform the rhetoric of 2 Peter when read within the larger framework of group identity in Roman society, and reflect minority group struggles in negotiating identity within the Roman Empire.

The anthropological concept and theological doctrine of imago Dei, articulated in the Priestly material of the Pentateuch (Genesis 1:26-28, 5:1-3, and 9:6), is the claim that human beings in some way bear the image of God. Though Ezekiel lacks an explicit articulation of imago Dei comparable to those found in Genesis, nevertheless the concept is critical to the book’s theology and anthropology. As in the P material, imago Dei in Ezekiel can be understood on three categorical levels: physical, functional, and spiritual. However, Ezekiel holds two different spiritual interpretations of the concept in unresolved tension. In texts that imply that they are capable of choosing the moral good, human beings manifest the divine image in their capacity for moral choice – that is, the ability to accept or reject the moral good. Other texts in Ezekiel, however, suggest that humans lack the ability to choose the moral good until YHWH grants them that capacity. These locate the manifestation of imago Dei in the divinely imposed realignment of the human will in accordance with YHWH’s own – that is, only in the capacity to choose the moral good. Human moral autonomy is the principle characteristic that, for Ezekiel, makes human beings a viable medium for the divine image, as opposed to cult statues, which are lifeless and lack the capacity for relationship or interaction. But the only salvific path by which Ezekiel can be confident that human failure will never again threaten YHWH’s relationship with Israel comes precisely at the expense of the human capacity to choose. Ezekiel must therefore preserve unresolved the tension between human free will and the divine constraint thereof.

While increasing attention has been given to the role of national Christians within the missionary era, there is still much to be said about how Middle Easterners came to participate in the American academy. This paper focuses on the connections between American missions, seminaries and Middle Eastern national Christians, examining how these early Middle Eastern Christian scholars in the U.S. marked an important step in diversifying American higher education. It argues that these Middle Eastern Christians were often expected to play an intermediary role in teaching about Islam in American institutions of higher learning. This was a largely a product of Orientalism among American Missionaries, who limited the possibilities for participation of Middle Easterners. Still, it was through missionary schools and Christian seminaries and institutions in the U.S. that many Middle Easterners first found admittance into American academic life.

The speaker and genre of Job 28 have been hotly debated in the past few decades. In this debate the question of genre is often tied to an identification of the speaker in chapter 28. Yet, in a synchronic reading of the book of Job, ignoring the conventions by which the narrator introduces each speaker (e.g., Job 4:1) leads to the possibility that there are an infinite number of unidentified voices and/or that at any point the words assigned to one speaker may belong to another speaker. Accordingly, describing Job 28 as an interlude given by an unidentified voice (Newsom 1996) or assigning chapter 28 to Job’s interlocutors (Clines 1989; 2003) should be rejected in a synchronic reading because these reading practices inevitably destabilize our ability to identify who is speaking at any point in the text. In contrast, there remains a contingent of scholars who assign Job 28 to Job (Good 1990; van der Lugt 1995; Whybray 1998; Lo 2003). Following their lead, we should search for ways to understand Job 28 that square with what Job has articulated in the previous chapters. I will make a proposal for just such a reading arguing that: (1) Job 28 reflects the experiential wisdom Job has gleaned about God described in chapters 1-27; (2) Job 28:28 is not an echo of traditional wisdom, but instead an admission of terror. The ironic use of wisdom material has already been noted as characteristic of Job’s speeches (e.g., Job 3) and chapter 28 is but another instance of this style; (3) read in the light of Job’s terror of and frustration with God, chapter 28 can be understood as Job’s description of the way God hoards wisdom as if it were a precious treasure (28:1-11), keeping it from humankind.

Hamlet’s take on Psalm 8:5 (Act 2 Sc. 2) highlights the contradiction between the enormous potential of human beings and their mortality, ‘this quintessence of dust’. A biblical theology of humanity also moves between these poles. Human destiny is written in the Cross and Resurrection of Jesus. But what does this leave to be said about human potential in a fallen world, and related concepts such as creativity, excellence, professionalism, and power? The lecture explores what the divine ascription of ‘goodness’ might mean for the human being’s sense of purpose in the world (Gen. 1:31). It finds its resources mainly but not exclusively in the Old Testament, and aims to make a contribution to Christian thinking on the subject. Key words in the approach taken are ‘embodiment’ and ‘engagement’.

Interpreters of Revelation predominantly view the work as a counter-imperial text, a resource providing the coded promise of liberation for an oppressed minority in response to a crisis of persecution. Some have allowed for nuance within this dominant paradigm (e.g., by highlighting the lack of any early empirewide persecution of Christians). However, few have sought to highlight how the Apocalypse itself participates in Roman cultural discourse. While the ancient work does offer a scathing critique of particular Roman authority, this paper contends that Revelation nevertheless displays its own Romanness by participating in the violent discursive strategies of the empire. Furthermore, the crisis perceived by John is not primarily one of “persecution” (Thompson), but rather, what he sees as unstable boundaries in the Christ-communities of Asia Minor. Thus, John utilizes the Roman imperial discourse of violent spectacle (Frilingos) and the apocalyptic imagery of Judean scribal tradition in order to reify these porous communal boundaries. In so doing, the author constructs an alternative empire, with Christ and God as its ruler(s) and his followers as fellow imperial authorities (e.g., 20:4). Therefore, as with other Roman claims to authority, violence in Revelation is necessary and justified in order to legitimize the imperial rule of Christ. Building upon relevant insights from Frilingos and others, this paper examines how Revelation’s “spectacles of empire” relate to its strategies for social identity maintenance in the work. Thus, the simple boundaries violently constructed in the Apocalypse belie the complex and dynamic identities of the early Christ-movement. John testifies to such dynamism in his epistolary notes to the communities of Asia Minor, while simultaneously modeling identity complexity in his own (Roman/Judean) discursive practices.

Each of irony’s many types (situational irony, dramatic irony and irony of dilemma to name only a few) impacts its intended audience differently. Verbal irony, a less-often examined aspect of irony, finds its roots in early Greek rhetoric and yet effects the emotions of surprise and curiosity just as profoundly today. It is a type of linguistic game. In verbal irony, words and meaning stand in opposition and intentional meaning can be temporarily hidden creating a puzzle in the literary text that needs to be solved. There is a gap in understanding that needs to be filled. This gap inspires in the reader what contemporary psychological theory labels CFD (curiosity as a feeling of deprivation), a construct which has been supported by the research of Jordan Litman. In literary circles, similar theories of curiosity have also been proposed by Meir Sternberg. With literature, a reader can make assumptions regarding plot based on early narrative information. When the narrative later reveals events or information that counters these early assumptions, the reader experiences surprise. The acknowledged gap in understanding that accompanies this surprise inspires curiosity. This curiosity then prompts readers to return to the text’s beginning and to re-examine the narrative in order to determine the extent to which the unexpected outcome was previously foreshadowed. In the biblical text, Matthew 1:21 contains a prophecy with verbal irony concerning the question, “Who are the ‘people’ receiving the salvation?” In the passage’s original context, it seems that the Jews are the recipients. Yet, as the reader continues through the Gospel with this assumption, the narrative’s conclusion (Matthew 28:19-20) serves to surprise. The subsequently resulting curiosity then turns the reader back to Matthew 1 in an effort to determine whether the expansion of salvation to “all the nations” was foreshadowed in the narrative.

This paper will examine anew the terms selem and demut from Gen 1:26-27 in their biblical and ancient Near Eastern contexts in order to suggest that the author defined the divine-human relationship not only in royal terms, as is well known, but primarily in terms of kinship, specifically, royal sonship. Further, the use of selem and demut, as opposed to ben (son) or melek (king), allowed the author to make yet another significant comparison: that of human to cult statue. Hence, the term selem may have been chosen not only for its royal and kinship overtones, but as a subtle way to redefine the term: a true selem it is not a lifeless, man-made statue but a living, breathing, human being created by the only legitimate image-maker, God himself. If this interpretation is valid, the implications are profound, as are its potential applications in the fields of theological anthropology, ethics, psychology, counseling, etc.

The destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem forced memories of the Temple to be perpetuated in non-material form. The promise of 19th-century archaeology, however, was that the materiality of the Temple could be recovered either through direct investigation of the Temple Mount or comparative study. For esoteric groups, who had formulated their own traditions surrounding the Temple, archaeological investigations and ancient Near Eastern studies more broadly, provided a potential evidentiary basis for constructing/reconstructing “memories” of the Temple outside of the more normative Biblical model. Egyptological discoveries allowed the reconstruction of a material temple along Egyptian lines, in keeping with Hermetic traditions of a Solomonic-Egyptian connection that had fueled esoteric studies since late antiquity. For Freemasons, the direct exploration of the Temple Mount, under the auspices of the Palestine Exploration Fund and Charles Warren (himself a Mason) had the potential to shed light on their “masonic ancestors.” As these “discoveries” were implemented by esoteric societies, the materiality of the Temple was reconstructed in the ritual spaces of these organizations, allowing the physical performance of memory in the practices of the organization. This paper seeks to explore some examples of the intersection between memory, material culture, and the creation of new memory in various esoteric groups’ considerations of the archaeology of the Temple and temples in the late 19th century.

The passage in Philippians 2:6-11 has been subjected to detailed scrutiny from a number of perspectives, often focusing on distinct but not ultimately unrelated questions: Is it quoting an already-existing hymn? Is its Christology one of pre-existence? How does the exalted status it attributes to Jesus relate to Jewish monotheism? How do its echoes of Jewish scripture relate to its meaning? This paper seeks to bring these several perspectives on the passage together, asking how the oral delivery of ancient letters would affect hearers’ perception of the meaning of quotations and allusions embedded within them, and as a consequence, how this would impact the persuasiveness or otherwise of the epistle’s argument. The persuasive effect of utilizing authoritative Scripture depended on either agreeing with the meaning of the texts echoed as it would be perceived by the hearer, or otherwise clearly transforming and reinterpreting the texts’ meaning, so as to use them to persuade the audience to draw the new conclusions advocated. The paper seeks to demonstrate that the texts echoed in Philippians 2:6-11 are used in the former rather than the latter manner, and will discuss the implications for our understanding of Pauline Christology.

This paper is part of a broader study of the underlying sociological account of secularization in the West in Charles Taylor´s thought. Taylor’s work on the subject consists of a meta-narrative that blends together sociological, historical and philosophical approaches. Specifically, I want to delineate the respective elements of Taylor’s sociological view of social change and illustrate the manner in which these elements are influenced by his philosophical orientation and assumptions. In a nutshell, social change is seen as caused by multiple “material” and “non material” factors, whose analysis should avoid the generalizations of all-encompassing theories, and for which the notion of “social imaginary” is key in articulating social dynamics with individual motivation. Taylor’s philosophical views on the hermeneutic nature of the social sciences, on the moral sources of a fulfilled human life, and on a non-relativistic rational approach to knowledge constitute the theoretical framework of his views on social change.

Some feminist interpreters have critiqued Paul’s writings as androcentric and portrayed Paul as authoritarian and dominating. Other feminist scholars have taken a more positive view of Paul, highlighting elements in his writings that emphasize mutuality and collaboration. Few scholars on either side have considered Paul’s maternal metaphors as part of their analysis. The fact that a first century male portrays himself occasionally in a female role (Gal 4:19, 1 Thess 2:7, and 1 Cor 3:2) is something that ought to be of significant interest to those with feminist commitments. In particular, these metaphors should have a place in discussions of Paul’s role as an apostle and the power dynamics that existed between Paul and the communities he founded. Paul’s maternal metaphors resist characterization as either egalitarian or hierarchical images, because they simultaneously portray Paul as one with authority over his communities and as a “weaker” or low-status member of Roman society. This paper explores this tension by first placing the metaphors in conversation with those who view Paul as authoritarian and dominating, and then in conversation with those who view him as collaborative and empowering. The paper concludes that a balanced reading is called for, which incorporates some of the strengths of both views of Paul that have been promoted, while avoiding their pitfalls. In particular, Paul’s maternal metaphors can best be understood as destabilizing cultural gender and class hierarchies, while simultaneously promoting Paul’s authority in the communities.

Pig remains are abundant at archaeological sites throughout Israel. Their frequency varies greatly across sites and between periods. In the Iron Age, for example, pig frequency at archaeological sites depends on the region where the site is located and on the chronological phase within the period. In the Iron I, domestic pig (Sus scrofa dom.) bones are abundant at Philistine sites along the southern coastal plain. They are rare or absent at "proto-Israelite" sites in the central hills. The large number of pigs at Philistine sites raises the question of their origin: did the Sea Peoples exploit local pig breeds, or did they bring new pig breeds from the Aegean Basin and introduce them into their newly acquired homeland. In this study, we used modern and ancient DNA techniques in order to shed light on the origins of the modern wild boar populations, as well as the Iron Age domestic pigs. We collected pig remains from sites across Israel, ranging from the Neolithic period up to present, and analyzed part of the mitochondrial DNA in an attempt to track changes through time. The results indicate that all the modern Israeli wild boars that we analyzed belong, genetically, to the European wild boars. This is a unique pattern compared to other areas in the Middle East, where modern pigs have a distinct local Middle Eastern genetic signature. Ancient domestic pigs from the Bronze Age in Israel belonged genetically to this local Middle Eastern group, and the genetic signature of European pigs started to appear mainly in the early phases of the Iron Age. These results imply that domestic pig breeds may have been introduced to the southern Levant from Europe by the Sea Peoples in the Iron I. These pigs may have then introgressed into the local fauna, or perhaps ecologically displaced them, bringing about a population turnover – where today their descendants are the only living pigs (and wild boar) in the country.

In the light of recent discoveries, this paper compares the depiction of dream-interpretation in an ancient Sumerian prayer and its Hittite translation. A further comparison will be made to the practice of dream-interpretation in the Homeric poems, to which the Sumerian passage in question may ultimately be linked via Anatolian intermediaries. Hence the paper will seek to examine to what extent dream-interpretation may be seen as a translatable concept and practice across ancient cultures.

Kenites and Midianites occupied the Sinai peninsula, Negev, Edom, Moab & Israelite territories at various times. Nomads, they monopolizing mining and smithing. The Bible has them leading the Exodus through the wilderness, living sometimes within Israel. While there is no definitive identification of Israelites, outside the testimony of the Bible, Midianites left pottery, smithing, remnants of tent shrines and were recorded by other peoples. The Bible preserves some of their stories: such as the ancestor Cain Three neglected Biblical stories of Midianite women seem to indicate Midianites and Kenites had female priestly officiants as well as male. If there is some validity in the Middianite-Kenite Hypothesis, then the evolution of Israelite rites from the Midianites also involved anathematizing and forcefully suppressing female priesthood. The “Song of Deborah”—the Bible’s oldest text--opens equating Shamgar ben Anath (Deborah’s predecessor) and Yael, who bears two theophoric names: Ya and El. In their time, roads could not be traveled. Yael is a Kenite, a “Woman of the Congregation” (Chever), whose tent (ohel) is beneath a sacred tree (terebinth) outside the sacred city of Kedesh (Holy), in Naftali. Kadesh is also the home of Deborah’s General, Barak. Deborah calls Israel to war, allowing a sister officiant to hold religious ingatherings for her nomadic people. Ingatherings, such as Jerusalem’s “chags”, are essential for most religions. In Numbers 25:15 Phineas wins Israel’s priesthood when he slays Cosbi (“Falseness”) Daughter of Tzur (“Rock”, a name of Israel’s G-d). Phineas spears her through her domed womb in the qubbah, a domed tent, probably the Israelite Ohel Mo’ed. When YHVH tries to kill Moses, Zipporah circumcises her son with a flint, declaring YHVH to be her “bridegroom of blood, because of the circumcision”: a ceremonial act. Midianite women’s Biblically anathematized or neglected prominence in nomadic religion demands exploration.