In the context of the build up towards the Islamic Revolution of 1979, Ali Shariati's critique against both outsider imperialist colonizers and insider authoritarian leaders, in addition to his strong gnostic tendencies, helped him to revitalize and awaken Muslim consciousness towards viewing the Qur’an as a revelation of revolution. The purpose of this paper is to analyse and discuss Shariati’s approach to the Qur’an, which I argue was both political and liberationist in nature. I focus on his liberationist perspective, particularly in terms of the following topics: 1) the way in which Shariati’s usage of Islamic figures relates to the Qur’an 2) the way he transforms qur’anic words and language 3) Shariati’s view of the Qur’an as a revolutionary platform 4) and the Qur’an as a gnostic platform. Overall, Shariati’s approach towards and engagement with the Qur’an can be inferred by the ways in which he reinterpreted the place of Islamic figures. He argued that the Shi'i clergy wasted their time by blindly promoting such taqlid (tradition) as “the love of Ali” and “shedding tears for Hossein,” and spending most of their time writing on “trivial rituals” or “compiling reports on the imams.” For Shariati, there was much value to the lives of Muhammad, Abraham, Ali, and other Qur’anic and Islamic figures, especially in fighting for justice. Shariati lamented the depolitization of both well and lesser-known figures as he felt “personalities like Abu Dharr, Salman, Ammar and Hujr were the true followers of Mohammad’s struggle against idolatory, the nobility, despotism, ignorance, and capitalism” (Rahnema 1998: 200). For Ali Shariati the Qur’an unites all Muslims and is the model to build on for resistance. Shariati lambasts the hegemony within the Shi'i clerical class for only teaching the general population to recite the Holy Book and to be attracted to the beauty of its cover, but not to let it live through interpretation. Shariati focuses on reintroducing the Qur’an into Muslim society, and mentions the need for such initiatives as establishing general public Qur’anic studies centers, in addition to centers for studying the Hadith of the Prophet (Shariati 1986: 73). For Shariati the Qur’an is a revolutionary platform and basis for his progressive Islamic ideology.

This paper investigates whether and how one can determine a Western influence of meal traditions in selected texts of the Hebrew Bible from the Persian period. It presents two lines of argument. First, it considers the evidence for one selected borrowed word in Hebrew, liska, ‘temple chamber’. Of Greek origin, liska is used in 1 Sam, Jer, Ezek, Neh, and Ezra. The paper seeks to illuminate its meaning in temple architecture as a designation for a chamber adjacent to the temple. Some traditions presuppose that in these cultic rooms wine was drunk, Jer 35:4-5, and meals were hold, 1 Sam 9:22; cf. 1 Sam 1:3-5; other passages suggest the chamber functioned as storage place for cultic vessels Ezra 8:29; 10:38; 10:40. The paper evaluates the relevance of the fact that a borrowed term designates a temple chamber that was used for communal drinking and eating. It considers whether culturally specific food practices were associated with this term. The second line of argument considers meal and offering scenes in selected narratives in 1 Sam 1-2; 9*; 16:1-13; 28:21-25. It asks whether one can ascertain Western influence in these descriptions of meal practices and on which methodological grounds this might be possible.

Genesis 41:41-45 indicated that Pharaoh gave his ring, his garment of fine linen, a new name, (Zaphenath-parreah), a wife, and a royal authority. He made him ride on a chariot. He also made his people to shout and pay obeisance for him. What could be the reason for this action? What appears to be the main reason is to reward Joseph with African royal citizenship because of what he has done for the land. It is also probably to make Joseph’s authority more acceptable by Africans/ Egyptians. The purpose of this paper is to examine Genesis 41 critically and especially, each of Pharaoh’s actions in the light of African/Egyptian and biblical culture. Egypt as an African country not only geographically but also ethnically will be examined. The implication to ancient Israel and Africa will also be examined.

Much of early Christian belief about Jesus in the second century and thereafter was the product of harmonization. Using historical-critical methods, we can train ourselves to see where the Pauline Jesus was harmonized with the Jesus of Mark, Matthew, Luke, John, etc. But as useful as those methods are, they do not provide sufficient theoretical framework for analyzing the harmonization process in detail and going beyond the inputs (Paul, Mark, Matthew, Luke, John, etc.) to the new structure and meaning that emerge when two or more inputs are combined. Blending theory, from the field of cognitive science and the subfield of cognitive linguistics, does. It allows us to recognize the creativity of early Christian thought such as in the harmonization process and the development of christology. I apply blending theory as a supplement to historical-critical methods and demonstrate its utility for christological studies in my analysis of a passage from the Letter of the Apostles dealing with the incarnation. There the Johannine prologue is combined with the Lukan infancy narrative so that the two heavenly descents of the divine Logos (input: John) and the angel Gabriel (input: Luke) occur as a single descent, and so that the virgin Mary conceives aurally while she listens to the word/Word of God that is simultaneously both spoken to her and speaking to her at the annunciation. Though this may be an elaborate instance of novelty, blending theory is no less useful for studying the general development of early Christian belief in the incarnation of a pre-existent Jesus through virgin birth, which is creatively Christian even without angelic transformation of Jesus into Gabriel or aural conception by the virgin Mary.

LXX and MT Jeremiah 1:1 famously differ in their introduction to the book. LXX 1:1’s plus of “the speech of God upon Jeremiah” presents the Vorlage’s special claim to a divine oracle in contrast to MT’s simple phrase of “the words of Jeremiah.” Our analysis of the divine name variation in MT and LXX gives confirmation of P.M. Bogaert’s theory of LXX representing an edition which emphasizes scribal transmission of God’s words rather than necessarily Jeremiah’s words. When Jeremiah’s divine name references are compared in LXX and MT, both texts demonstrate similar variation with the result that it is often difficult to distinguish whether the translator or the LXX Vorlage was responsible for the name differences. Pietersma has described LXX Jeremiah’s translation technique as the most complex in the LXX corpus. Our study of the divine names profoundly demonstrate Pietersma’s claims. It is very likely that some abbreviation of divine titles has taken place at the hand of the translator, since even MT’s longest divine title survives in LXX (e.g. LXX 51:7). But, where one finds the rare LXX plus material of divine titles, such names probably represent the LXX Vorlage’s edition’s special emphasis or theology. We find little Qumran confirmation for divine names in LXX, save only in 4Q70’s Proto-MT text’s confirmation of one LXX title (12:4). Thus, one must rely upon translation technique analysis with lack of much external controls, unless one assumes an unlikely hypothesis of a damaged Vorlage manuscript for moments of free renditions (e.g. LXX 39:8, 19). No Qumran documents support LXX’s shorter divine titles, so that it is difficult to dismiss translation abbreviation as a frequent phenomenon. Thus, LXX Jeremiah’s translation technique proves to be more complicated than simply a strictly literal one, since the lengthy book has sections of different trends.

This paper engages in a close textual analysis of the dynamic analogies between the Joseph and Esther narratives, drawing on the methods of feminist hermeneutics and rabbinic midrash. While many scholars (Adele Berlin, Sandra Berg, and Michael Fox to name a few) have noted the parallels between these stories of the Hebrew/Jew who rises to prominence in a foreign court – I focus on the gendered aspect of their character development. As beautiful orphans, who “find favor in the eyes” of those who see them, both Esther and Joseph are feminine figures, tailored for their diplomatic roles precisely because they master the art of discretion. Though seemingly passive victims of their placement within the palace precincts, they rise to prominence through the combination of wile and concealed identity. The conventional reading suggests that Esther was planted within the Imperial court as a kind of mole, only later to reveal herself as a Jewess to undermine Haman’s decree of genocide against her people. Yet why does the Queen delay the revelation of her identity until the second feast? Joseph, too, conceals his identity from his brothers, behind the mask of ‘Egyptian’ viceroy within Pharaoh’s court. After a twenty-two-year absence, why does he further delay the reconciliation with his brothers and reunion with his aged father? The unmasking only occurs after the brothers’ second descent down to Egypt. The rabbinic tradition suggests that both Joseph and Esther inherit the trait of discretion, dubbed the “distaff of silence,” from Rachel, the matriarch (Gen. Rab. 71:5). What is the nature of this distinctly feminine metaphor? How does it play itself out in the narratives of deceit or discretion? And why is it linked back, in a kind of genetic essentialism, to the matriarch? Drawing on psychoanalytic/literary approach of Avivah Zornberg and Julia Kristeva, I explore the legacy that the matriarch as a marginalized figure bequeaths her children. Buried on the border, she calls to her children “who are not” to return from exile (cf. Jer 31:14). Over the arc of their stories, both Esther and Joseph are transformed from “object”, seen and acted upon by others, to “subject,” agents of their own narrative, through a stage of being “abject”, one “who is not,” outside of the purview of the eye of the beholder. They rise to prominence, endure and die in exile, and become emblematic of the power of discretion for the Jew in the Diaspora. I argue that the nexus between Hebrew/Jew and masculine/feminine are inversely related in the two narratives. And in the final revelation, for both Esther and Joseph, there is a complete break-down of essentialist gender categories. Esther writes. Joseph weeps. This paper represents a condensed version of the final chapter in my forthcoming book: The Female Ruse: Women’s Deception and the Divine Sanction in the Hebrew Bible (Sheffield Phoenix Press).

Epigraphic data from the formative period of Islam has been increasing exponentially over the last two decades thanks to the efforts of scholars like Frederic Imbert, Solange Ory, Robert Hoyland and Saudi archaeologists like al-Ghaban, Kilabi and al-Rašhid. It is thanks to these endeavours that a number of significant studies have examined the literary content and context of the Quran in this material genre, yet, as Robert Hoyland adumbrated in 1997: "... There are almost no studies… which consider...who wrote them and why…." (Hoyland 1997) Contrary to the idea that inscriptions contain “only proper names…of obscure persons who have left no trace of their existence…”(van Berchem 1915) this type of data could potentially provide a rich source of prosopographic information that could be of significant value to even the most sceptical of early Islamic historians. As part of my ongoing research into this dimension, I will aim to combine both approaches (literary and prosopographical) to see how such identified individuals, at least in a Hijazi setting, fit into a Quranic literary context. In addition to dating of the Quranic inscriptions, knowing the social and historical backgrounds of such individuals provides valuable information about how the Quran was viewed, how the Quran was cited and how this process evolved during the first two centuries of Islam. The data presented will include a number of edited and highlighted inscriptions that have been previously published and several unpublished inscriptions from sites such as Gabal al-Safinah. Examples provided may include figures of high standing, early narrators of hadiths and even the occasional not so famous son or grandson of a prominent scholar or companion. Analysis of this pool of data will hopefully highlight the rich potential of this undeveloped avenue and may provide insights into the geographical context in which the Quran was formed.

Recent "empire studies" of the the Apostle Paul reflect on him "as apostle to the nations," confronting or conforming to the Roman imperial order, depending on who one reads. Centuries later in another hemisphere, in a territory of the United States "empire," the Caribbean island of Puerto Rico sought to resist encroaching U.S. colonization in the first half of the 20th century under the vigorous leadership of its "apostle of independence," Pedro Albizu Campos. This paper explores these two "colonized apostles" as they confront their Empires both as impassioned missionaries for their communities and as martyred political prisoners.

The historical philology and hermeneutical interpretation of the Qur'an, should be based on a triangular field: (1) view of the Qur’an’s emergence in Late Antiquity (as an interpreted Bible), (2) the historical development of the Qur'an (the Qur'an emergence from a real historical event); and (3) the historical development of the Quran Exegesis. The third one -which the paper will discuss- is often ignored by scholars in the Qur'anic scholarship today. What I mean by that is: the scholarship preconceptions of the Qur'an in its continuous developing process. Rather than imagine the emergence of the Qur'an isolated from historical development of Exegesis, we have to imagine a sort of twin birth of scripture and its exegesis. The Quran - Unlike other divine books – has emerged as an interpreted text by the prophet (16:44). This track was followed by The Muslim exegetes later on and gradually developed during past centuries. Thus scholars have to deal not only with the text of Qur'an but with its developing exegesis as its late subtexts. Both the rethinking of the Muslim exegetes -as it mirrors the contextual meaning of the text- like investigation into the Text's traditional understanding can complete -together- the philological meaning. If the text itself can disclose the logic behind the historical progression then the exegetical texts can disclose the philological meaning of the Qur'anic text. If there is a close relationship between the Qur'anic text and the community, then there is such a close relationship between text and exegesis from the very beginning centuries. Then the resulting separation of the Qur'an from its historical development of Exegesis is no academic trifle from a philological perspective. More ever one might claim that the modern discipline of philology has developed by classical Muslim exegetes of the Qur'an too.

Scholars tend to assume that late antique ritual practitioners could only have been male. The assumption has been that only men were literate and that therefore, scribal magic could only have been a man’s line of work. This is treated as self-evident despite the fact that there are known and published examples of ancient Jewish Aramaic incantations written in the first person feminine. In this paper, I argue that there is good reason to take the feminine authorship of these incantation texts seriously. Furthermore, I explain how recognizing the feminine perspective of these texts can help us understand the logic and religious vocabulary of the incantations. In this presentation, I will focus on one fascinating Jewish incantation from Babylonia and place it into its ancient Jewish Babylonian context. Previous scholars have focused on its philological background and have provided the foundation for contextualizing this incantation further. This incantation is one of the few incantations written in Talmudic Aramaic and is also written in the first person singular feminine. Although this practitioner appeals to Babylonian goddesses alongside the Jewish God, I argue that it must be understand in the context of the limitations and possibility afforded Jewish women in the late antique religious imagination. When one considers the general patterns of adaptation of ritual techniques in late antiquity, I will argue that the choices made by this female Jewish practitioner come into view.

A close examination of the narrative portrayals of the Samaritan woman in John 4:1-42 and the Syrophoenician woman in Mark 5:25-30 reveal symmetric and diametric characterizations that advance the narrative and theological strategies of the gospel writers. The aim of this presentation is to show how the gospels of John and Mark accomplish a similar narrative strategy by using the conversations these two women have with Jesus. Using principles of symbol theory, this paper explores the significance of the symbolic characterizations of the two similar yet dissimilar women. The Samaritan woman, intentionally sought out by Jesus, is initially reserved but eventually engages in a theological conversation laden with symbolism that leads to Christological self-revelation, thus opening the door for the inclusion of the Samaritans in the Messianic mission. On the other hand, the Syrophonecian woman intentionally seeks Jesus out but is initially rejected; she argues with him and overturns his symbolic terminology to receive her request, thus opening the door for Gentile inclusion in the Jewish Messianic blessings. Both women are symbolically positioned in their geographical locations and engage in symbolic conversations that contain similar themes such as water/bread/food, personal rejection/reception, family/relational crisis, and ethnic exclusivity/inclusivity. Although the two narratives vary in length, plot, socio-historical context, and setting, a close reading of both texts reveals a common underlying purpose. As sociocultural outcasts on many levels, the vivid characterizations of these two women create suspense and defy hearer-reader expectations. As symbols of individual and communal inclusion the Samaritan woman and the Syrophonecian woman respectively enhance the narrative plots and theological agendas of the gospels of John and Mark.

As Glancy argues, New Testament scholars have downplayed the issue of slavery in the Roman Empire (2010). They have also been slow to address enslavement in Jesus’ parables (2000). Her insights may be extended to slavery in other New Testament contexts, and in particular Matthew 19, a chapter embedded in Matthew’s larger narrative context of households and discipleship. While Glancy helpfully directs attention to the problematic issue of slavery in the first gospel, and though she does address eunuchs in other contexts (2006), she neglects Matthew’s man-made eunuchs of 19:12b. Glancy is not alone in this regard. Even those scholars who have devoted studies to Matthew’s distinctive verse about eunuchs or have treated Mt 19:12 in commentaries, have done little more than offer a one- or two-line declaration to the effect that “eunuchs who were eunuchized by people” were typically slaves (cf. Kartzow and Moxnes). Some commentaries fail to do even this much (e.g., Talbert, Evans, Senior). The focus of inquiry remains squarely on Matthew’s third group of eunuchs: “those who eunuchized themselves for the sake of the kingdom of the heavens” (19:12c). To date and to the best of my knowledge, no scholar has devoted a study exclusively either to Matthew’s first group of eunuchs (“those who were engendered thus in mother’s womb”) or to the second. For the Slavery, Resistance, and Freedom Section, I propose to focus exclusively on the latter by situating these eunuchs in broader narrative and historical context. A careful comparison of this second group, including conceptions of their status, gender, and kinship connections, will be made with their counterparts in the LXX and other Greco-Roman texts. I focus especially on eunuchs who worked in high-level positions for powerful kings and elite landowners/householders like those Matthew presents. In such positions, eunuchs enhanced the social standing of sovereigns. They often exhibited a high degree of autonomy as they served and protected the interests and bodies of their slavemasters and, in some cases, gained an intimate knowledge—whether they desired it or not—from mundane personal activities (e.g., sleeping, eating, bathing), to desired lovers and marriage partners, to military and political activities. This also sheds light on Matthew's placement of 19:12 in its immediate narrative context which, I will argue, is not coincidental. The Matthean Jesus speaks about eunuchs immediately before he instructs his disciples about children and just after he challenges Pharisees about God’s will concerning marriage, divorce, and remarriage. Here I explore Matthew's connection between non- procreative children and enslaved eunuchs, both of which groups the evangelist associated with the kingdom of the heavens. This paper will demonstrate that Matthew’s eunuchs of 19:12b advance the evangelist’s larger program of disrupting earthly households and a traditional cycle of human reproduction to prioritize and glorify God’s household and God's masculine status as the ultimate pater familias.

It has long been observed that the textual history of the book of Revelation is anomalous in comparison to other NT works in numerous ways. Instead of a condition to be lamented, this situation offers a unique opportunity to explore the early reception of this work within its own manuscript tradition, a tradition that is particularly amenable to reflection on the relationship between textual history and reception history. This study investigates Revelation’s early reception by examining the ways in which textual variation and paratextual features in its manuscript tradition constitute acts of reception. This discussion requires three steps. First, I outline trends in the studies of the textual culture of the late Second Temple period, a period in which scribal intervention is manifest, and argue that a similar, yet muted phenomenon remained an undercurrent in the development of the Greek tradition of Revelation. Second, I examine this theory using concrete examples of textual variation in Rev 4-5 preserved in witnesses dating before the 7th century CE. These test cases highlight the various factors that motivated and regulated textual change and suggest that many of these changes reflect interpretive or explicative intent, a desire to preserve Revelation’s relevance and increase its clarity. Finally, the study concludes with some reflection on what this data means for the on-going production of the Editio Critica Maior of Revelation.

In 2001, Brendan Powell Smith posted his retelling of six stories from Genesis using only LEGO bricks on his website (thebricktestament.com) and biblical texts. By 2015, his website included more than 400 biblical stories and over 4500 photographs, boasting that this project is “the world’s largest, most comprehensive illustrated Bible.” Smith has also published several critically-acclaimed picture books, including 2011’s A New Spin on the Old Testament, 2012’s A New Spin on the Story of Jesus, and five short children’s books. Smith’s success stems from a mix of the visual playfulness that permeates his work and the revival of the LEGO brand, which now includes clothing, several amusement parks, video games, animated series, and 2014’s wildly popular The LEGO Movie. Despite Smith’ successes, his Brick Bible project has not been without controversy. In many ways, this controversy resembles some of the criticism that surrounded R. Crumb’s 2009’s The Book of Genesis Illustrated: All 50 Chapters. Specifically, too many people expect a Bible picture book to be a children’s book; they do not imagine it as a graphic novel intended for adult audiences. Whereas Crumb’s cover cautions its audience with visual and verbal cues, Smith’s New Spin volumes offer no such warning, and its cover art is as inviting to children as an official LEGO box. Although thebricktestament.com notifies its readers that it is a “sprawling website best suited for those with the maturity to read the entire Bible,” and identifies stories containing (plastic toy) nudity, sexual content, and violence, Smith’s New Spin volumes lack the sexually explicit poses found on the website. However, his self-editing for publication did not prevent his detractors from complaining that his books are too sexually graphic, and Sam’s Club refused to carry the Old Testament volume in 2011 for precisely this reason after receiving complaints from the public. Another reason that Smith’s work has been condemned by various faith communities is his avowed atheism. Because of his nonbelief, Smith has been labeled as an outsider. One Catholic writer argued that his “skewed perspective on matters of faith...makes a pretty good case against faith,” and several evangelicals have written similar responses. Others complain that Smith’s interpretation of scriptural chronology or theology differs from their own, or as one blogger noted, “most stories are (literally) accurate, but missing the heart of Jesus.” In response, Smith dismisses these critics, claiming that he only desires to increase people’s knowledge of the Bible and not to change anyone’s beliefs. This paper examines Smith’s Brick Bible as graphic novels geared for educating adults and evaluates his claim that he has let “the Bible speak for itself.” It also considers the criticisms leveled against his work by evangelical writers, who also argue that their readings or interpretations let “the Bible speak for itself,” and by Catholic writers, who come from a tradition wary of (over) literal interpretation. The paper concludes with a brief overview of Smith’s children’s books and how they stack up against his detractors’ concerns.

The treatment of persons classed as foreign and the issue of intermarriage in Ezra-Nehemiah has received much attention recently, especially because these themes are seen to be integral to how the authors of these texts navigated the construction of a postexilic Israelite community. This paper builds on the work of scholars such as Saul Olyan by focusing on the types of purity ideologies utilized in Ezra-Nehemiah, especially those relating to intermarriage and alien persons. The paper argues that the ways in which purity rhetoric is applied in these texts can be better understood if one takes into account the postcolonial perspective of the authors of these texts. After briefly exploring the difficulties involved in a postcolonial examination of the purity discourse in Ezra-Nehemiah, this study suggests that the ways in which the authors of these texts utilized purity traditions allowed them to couch the issue of “Self” and “Other” in specifically Israelite terms, even though the situation is negotiated in a colonized environment, possibly even through the lens of imperial authorization. In this way, Ezra-Nehemiah’s strategic implementation of purity traditions reflects the situation of colonialism, which, as David Chidester summarized, “represents a complex intercultural encounter between alien intruders and indigenous people.” Because the protagonists of Ezra-Nehemiah are the quintessential arbiters of what is “insider” while they themselves arrive from a foreign land, authorized to do the work of “indigenous” social formation as the agents of the colonizer’s imperial apparatus, the nature of how insider/outsider and native/foreign play out in these books is unusual and complex. This speaks to the kind of negotiated power dynamics and cultural give-and-take observed by Homi K. Bhabha and Gayatri Spivak to erode the dichotomies of Self/Other and imperialism/resistance in order to form a third space where “culture” actually happens. The purity ideologies employed in Ezra-Nehemiah speak to a larger intra-Israelite discourse on the ramifications of a colonial existence, articulated in this case through a specifically Israelite lens (priestly purity traditions), and negotiated with an awareness that “Us” and “Them” were fluid categories in a postcolonial situation.

More than on source criticism, this paper will focus on the important place that the stories about Hagar and Ishmael – coming after the Covenant between the Parts and before the Binding of Isaac – have in the final editing of the book of Genesis. Moreover, there are aspects of quantity and quality. The quantitative aspect shows that two whole stories are dedicated to Hagar and Ishmael, who are not mentioned in grammatical singular anywhere in the Bible, differently for example from figures like Ammon or Moab. The qualitative aspect shows that the Hagar and Ishmael stories are a continued effort to present them positively. Therefore this paper will trace the varied poetic means used to shape these characters in a positive way. Finally, the most interesting question is why or what was the author-editor's purpose, and this paper will try to suggest the answer.

'Let Us Celebrate the Festival’: Paul’s Placement of Jewish Ritual Language in 1 Corinthians 5:1-8

In 1 Corinthians, Paul deploys the kind of biblical rhetoric that simultaneously affirms and denies the reality of “idols”: they are both nothing in the world (8:4) and yet are conduits to demons (10:20). When we look slightly later, however, the apparent “metaphysical contradiction,” recently analyzed by Emma Wasserman, seems to disappear. Virtually all ancient Christian apologists claim that demons dwell in or around pagan statuary, and that demons are the reason Christians should shun such imagery. By contrast, rabbinic literature, most notably tractate Avodah Zarah, lacks any association of idols with demons. This is striking given the otherwise conventional demonology of rabbinic texts: demons look frightening, they make people sick, and the world is filled with them. It is also striking given the association of idolatry with demons in Jewish apocalyptic literature such as Jubilees. How should the difference between rabbinic and Christian (and other Jewish) texts on this issue be understood? My paper will suggest that demons filled an apologetic need felt by gentile Christian communities and that the rabbinic silence on demons and idolatry was a component of the so-called parting of the ways.

Reading the Bible through the lens of trauma studies highlights the presence of both victims and perpetrators in biblical texts. This awareness is heightened when one reads the texts with a group of which many members are at once traumatized and traumatizers. One such gathering is the religious studies class I teach inside a maximum-security prison. The trauma of the crucifixion and its ongoing effects on the earliest Christians resemble the circumstances endured by the incarcerated and the condemned inside US prisons, as well as the loved ones they leave behind. This paper applies trauma theory to a comparative reading of the Gospel accounts of the trial, torture, execution, and death of Jesus with particular attention to ways these texts are appropriated by contemporary prisoners living through similar experiences. This approach provides insight into the horror of crucifixion and the US justice system while also suggesting indications of Post-Traumatic Growth in the early Christian communities behind the texts and in contemporary communities affected by incarceration.

For a long time, the “free” character of the translation of the Septuagint of Isaiah has been considered to represent a reinterpretation, in the sense of an actualization of older prophecies as historically fulfilled in the time of the translator. Since Seeligman’s work (1948), scholars have underlined the fact that a “contemporizing” interpretation of oracles offers an explanation for the divergences between the Greek and the Hebrew, as well as a better understanding of the Greek itself (Hanhart 1983; Koenig 1982; Van der Kooij 1998). Troxel (2008) has recently criticized this “contemporizing” (Erfüllungsinterpretation) theory. He explains divergences between the translation and the source-text by linguistic and contextual reasons, and claims that they are motivated by the translator’s interest in offering an understanding of Isaiah’s text to his Greek readers. In my paper, I will explore the Septuagint version of Isaiah 34 as a test case, through a systematic comparison between the Greek and the Hebrew text. This chapter deals with Edom’s destruction and the description of a landscape of ruins, peopled by strange animals with demonic features, among whom the mention of Lilith constitutes the strongest mark. Important changes occur in the translation from Hebrew to Greek, increasing in the second part of the oracle (vv. 11-17): they considerably transform the animal scenario, the nature and the function of the described landscape. I will explore these differences in the broader context of the chapter. Against this background, I will argue that some of the divergences between LXX and MT can be explained by the fact that in the LXX, unlike in the MT, part of the oracle of Isaiah 34 is addressed against Zion, and not against Edom (v. 8). Such a modification implies a shift in the final meaning of the text, making it an unique case among other oracles about ruins in the Hebrew Bible (cf. especially Isaiah 13), and creating a link to the beginning of chapter 35, which is focused on Zion’s restoration (see Van der Kooij 2011). I will conclude by evaluating to what extent and in which measure we are dealing here with an exegesis that can be defined as “actualizing”, or if the divergences are due to the “alexandrian” features and method of the translator, as highlighted by Troxel.

This presentation will demonstrate the use of a digital pen and tablet to write Hebrew script for online learning. Three uses will be demonstrated: (1) permanent online lectures recorded with Adobe Captivate; (2) live online lectures with online students connecting with Adobe Connect; and (3) personalised video responses to specific student questions. Guidelines will be provided to show how this technology can be best utilised, and made compatible for both desktop and mobile access. This technology revolutionizes online learning as it allows the presenter to "write" Hebrew for students as if using a whiteboard. An example of (3) can be seen at https://vimeo.com/120536790

In many passages, the Qur?an tells us that after making the cosmos in six days, God took to His throne. This act of divine sitting is a powerful reformulation of the well-known narrative of Genesis 2:2-3: “On the seventh day He rested from all His work […] and made it holy.” While the Qur?an often cites the creation in six days, it never includes the biblical lore’s account of the seventh. This paper will argue that the Qur?anic rejection of the day of rest is a consequence of the Qur?anic affirmation of soul-sleep. Like many Syriac Christian sources, the Qur?an posits the dead in a sleep-state as they await the final Resurrection. However, unlike those sources, the Qur?an uses soul-sleep as a way of rejecting the cults of the dead: saints and the divine Christ most especially. If the dead are sleeping, they cannot hear prayers or intercede with the living — they are out cold. The opposite trend to this claim about the dead is that God never sleeps or dies. God is always active, alive, aware, and powerful. However, how can this be reconciled with that claim that God’s work as the Creator required a day of rest (yawm al-sabt)? Simply put, the Qur?an fixes the tension by putting God into the most powerful kind of rest possible: sitting in state on a throne. God’s rest in the Qur?an inverts the connotations of the biblical lore, while keeping the traditional cosmogony in place. Unlike the Jewish sabbath which suggests that God grows tired, or the Christian sabbath that suggests that God passes into the sleep of death, the rest of God in the Qur?an proves that He never grows weary, and unlike false objects of worship, He never succumbs to death.

For most of the history of interpretation of the Colossian “philosophy,” scholars have suggested that the author of the NT letter to the Colossians was polemicizing against some form of syncretistic teaching. This was often thought to be Gnosticism or a proto-Gnostic teaching with substantially Hellenistic contours. In the past forty years, however, the pendulum swung in the direction of Judaism as the source of the rival teaching. The change was stimulated by the 1973 work of Fred Francis who argued that “worship of angels” (Col 2:18) did not mean that angels were objects of worship, but that the leaders of the factional teaching at Colossae were advocating a Jewish-oriented visionary experience of worshipping with the angels around the heavenly throne. He, and many who were to follow him, began arguing that the other aspects of the teaching that were once thought to reflect Hellenistic (or local) religious features could be explained purely on the basis of Jewish texts. This trend in the interpretation of the problem at Colossae has been particularly popular in American and British scholarship. In this paper, I will argue that there is one aspect of the rival teaching that remains an insurmountable obstacle for the view that the Colossian “philosophy” is an entirely Jewish issue. That is the presence of the rare term embateuo in Col 2:18 where it occurs in a context expressive of visionary experience. The direct relevance of the repeated appearance of this term in a handful of inscriptions at an Apollo sanctuary cannot be easily dismissed. The term is used there in a technical sense for the higher stage of mystery initiation ritual (for “entering” the oracle grotto) for people who came to consult the oracle. The fact that there is also inscription evidence of delegations from the Lycus Valley coming to consult this famous oracle further underlines the relevance of the embateuo inscriptions. This crux text along with other aspects of the rival teaching are best seen as reflecting Hellenistic religious influence. Nevertheless, one cannot dismiss some of the Jewish aspects of the problem at Colossae. It is my contention that these variegated elements represent a syncretism that best coheres around an interest in spiritual power of a shamanistic kind.

Although the great majority of papyri and ostraca have been excavated in Egypt, finds from Palestine, Libya, Jordan, Syria, Bactria, Crete, Italy, Dacia, Britannia and even Switzerland show that the material from Egypt allows for reconstructing the general private, business and administrational life throughout the Roman Empire, left aside that local and regional differences can be found everywhere. Thus, what we, generally, find about marriage and family, slavery, taxes, business relationships etc. in papyri and ostraca from Egypt, can be transferred to the average city life in Asia Minor. This paper aims at drawing a picture about what everyday life might have looked like in the Lycus Valley, namely in Colossae, and at taking the household and house church of Philemon, as described by Paul in his letter, as the entity that is to be compared with, no matter if this household has to be located in Colossae or elsewhere.

This method can be used to encourage students to practice close reading and to understand text by acting it out. I have used it in my Islam courses, but it can be used for any course accompanied by a text that tells the story of a specific event. The professor assigns five short chapters/episodes that each narrate a short part of a longer historical narrative. This activity allows students to engage more deeply with and develop empathy for historical figures from their readings. Students get to know one another better through improvised drama, gain a better understanding of the reading, and connect with a topic which would normally be alien and strange for them. Students use their creativity and imagination to teach their classmates about the contents of the narrative.

Most scholars of the Book of Jonah believe that the poem in 2:3-10 is a late interpolation to the book and is not an integral part of it. This opinion is based on various points, the main and strongest being that the poem is a prayer of thanksgiving and not a lament. A prayer of lament is what is expected when Jonah is trapped in the belly of the large fish. Even scholars who interpret the book synchronically often agree that the psalm is a latter addition. Yet, according to this consensus, it is unclear why the editor did not select a poem better suited to the context of the narrative. The question of the origins of the poem will be investigated in the context of the book as a whole. An analysis of the aim of the Book will shed new light on the form of the poem and its place in the composition as a whole. In this paper, I will claim that poem is an integral part the Jonah story, and that there is no reason to attribute it to a separate author, and that only such an approach adequately explains the unique features of the poem. An analysis of the rhetoric of the poem will reinforce this conclusion.

The Dead Sea Scrolls contain many interpretations of biblical “Land” texts that use Moses’ wilderness experience and the promise of land to emphasize strict separation from the temple priests. Moses is invoked as an authority in these documents to urge Jews to remain faithful to God’s commandments (CD 5:21-6:1; 1QS 1:3). They particularly highlight Moses’ denunciations of transgressions committed by the priests and the people (i.e., 4Q390 2 I, 2-3; 2Q21 I, 1-2; 4Q504 1-2 II, 7-11a). What is unique is that the Dead Sea Scrolls use these biblical texts from the Exodus sojourn to portray their current situation as a modern-day wilderness experience to urge pious Jews to move to the desert. Like Moses and the Israelites of the Exodus period, the Qumran community too lived in camps (1QM 3:13-4:17) where they sought to fulfill the Torah (4QMMT C 6-32). But what is unique for the Qumran community is that their literal interpretation of the biblical land texts required them not only to isolate themselves from the temple priests to maintain ritual purity, but to construct an actual altar at Qumran to fulfill Moses’ commands regarding the proper treatment of the land. The first portion will explore the biblical “Land” texts from Qumran to highlight how they emphasize the wilderness tradition. It will show how the Qumran community envisioned themselves living in the wilderness on the verge of entering the Promised Land. As such, they were not obligated to observe those laws that were to be implemented upon entering the Promised Land, especially those connected with the temple sacrifices. Part two briefly highlights the archaeological evidence put forth by Jean-Baptiste Humbert and Jodi Magness that the enclosure to the north in the Qumran settlement (loci 130-135), which contained numerous animal bone deposits and ash, was a sacrificial courtyard in the late first century B.C.E. However, this section will propose that the interpretation of the biblical land texts reflected in the Dead Sea Scrolls suggest that the Qumran sectarians did not use this altar for sacrificial offerings since they believed that the Israelites had made none when they lived the wilderness (Jer 7:22; Amos 5:25). Rather, the Qumran sectarians revived the biblical laws pertaining to “desired meat,” whose blood must be returned to the land (=ground). This theory perhaps best explains the archaeological evidence, as well as the content of such texts as the Temple Scroll (LIII 1-6) that describe laws pertaining to the eating of “desired meat” in the wilderness.

Much of Philo's philosophical exegesis of Jewish scripture revolves around the issue of how mortal man can encounter God. He argues that the sacred text both describes and enables the quest for that One Who Is. His treatment of the theme involves classical images of the movement of the soul to God as well as references to his own personal experience. Evocative imagery and erudite argument combine to foster an philosophical "mysticsm" in the receptive reader.

Gideon Toury points out that metaphors cannot always be translated literally due to difficulties both in the source text and the target language, and describes six methods that could be used to translate metaphors. (Toury, Descriptive Translation Studies and Beyond, 82-83.) This paper will discuss examples of these six methods (and some more subcategories) as found in LXX-Isaiah’s translation of plant metaphors. It will also attempt to explain why each method is adopted. The first method examined is translating metaphors with the same metaphor. The expectation for the LXX, generally, is to render literally, but this category is rarely used in LXX-Isa. Where it is used, sometimes a metaphor is rendered literally but the context is changed. In some places the metaphor is preserved in translation but is adjusted to help with its interpretation. When LXX-Isa translates a metaphor with a different metaphor, it is sometimes due to lexical or textual reasons. Other times the metaphor is changed by a metonymic shift. Sometimes a unique metaphor is changed into a more conventional metaphor that occurs more often in the OT. Some metaphors are exchanged for more vivid metaphors. Sometimes the translator change the tenor but the vehicle is maintained. The LXX-Isa translator will sometimes translate metaphors with non-metaphors. Some Hebrew idioms, dead metaphors, and metonymies are rendered non-metaphorically. Some puns or homonyms are rendered also in ways that remove a possible metaphor. The most drastic way of rendering a metaphor with a non-metaphor is to interpret the meaning of the metaphor and so to translate what the metaphor is thought to express. In a few places a non-metaphor is translated as a metaphor, usually by way of substituting one word or because of the perceived meaning of an individual word. In a few places multiple metaphors are merged, to better suit Greek rhetorical sensibilities. Similarly, some metaphors are omitted completely, to cut down the amount of imagery in a passage. Sometimes metaphors are translated with similes. This is often done when a simile is implied in the Hebrew, or where there is some Hebrew particle which may have been confused for a comparative marker. In a few places it seems to be done due to specific exegetical considerations related to the passage in which they occur. Cataloging metaphor translation methods helps demonstrate the versatility of a translator, but can by no means give us a full picture by itself. It is important to attempt to understand the issues related to each individual metaphor in the passage in which it occurs, since sometimes the same problem is dealt with differently and since the context may have produced translation issues more important than issues related to the metaphor. It is noteworthy that dead and conventional metaphors, which should be the hardest to translate, are often rendered literally. Original metaphors, on the other hand, should have been easiest to translate literally, but are often rendered in unexpected ways by LXX-Isa.

The biblical Book of Esther presents a tale driven by conflict, secrecy, rivalry, and violence, and God is nowhere to be found. Despite the sense of joy, charity and security in exile the Book of Esther has often brought to Jews, this book has also been a springboard for animosity and hatred. Indeed, God is not present in the book; the violence is abominable; and the characters are unsavory. Jews and Christians alike have questioned its inclusion in their religious life. The theory of Rene Girard provides a different way of understanding this scripture and why it might have been included in the canon. This paper shows that the book of Esther reveals Girard’s “scapegoating mechanism,” which unfolds through the basic structure of the “persecution text” in three stages: 1) the onset of crisis; 2) aggressive rivalry and lynching; and 3) an interdiction or ritual to memorialize the violence. This paper details how the Book of Esther plays out this pattern in cycles, gradually “revealing” the pattern by moving from silent to redeemed victim. In this way, the Book of Esther brings the reader from what Girard would call “the pagan to the biblical.”

TBD

The emergence of Alexandria as a center of intellectual activity, supported by the Ptolemaic court, created a sense of scholarly competition. Timon of Phlius describes the competitive environment: “In Egypt of the many tribes, many bookish scribblers are being fed, endlessly wrangling in the Muses’ birdcage.” Recent studies have revealed the complexity of Hellenistic literature by acknowledging that authors were participating in an intellectual milieu that encouraged displays of traditional material such as Homer and Hesiod in innovative yet often subtle and sometimes obscure ways. The practice of intertextual reference would be a battleground of wits, a platform on which to demonstrate to fellow intellectuals how clever and well read their poetry was in comparison to others. The author of Book III of the Sibylline Oracles was participating in this competition of wits, demonstrating his knowledge of Greek tradition by creatively inverting references to present his own unique voice. This paper will address three previously unnoticed subtle allusions to the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, Callimachus’ Hymn to Zeus, and the Homeric Hymn to Apollo in Book III. The Jewish author used these references to demonstrate his familiarity of traditional hexameter models as well as acknowledge current trends in Hellenistic poetry. The author proves that he can play on the highest level and use his Jewish monotheistic tradition for creative inspiration. The Jewish author confidently inverted and subordinated allusions to Greek religious tradition to align the tradition with his own theological sensibilities. The creativity of the Jewish author reflects a complex hybrid identity that draws inspiration from both Greek and Jewish tradition to form innovative poetry that could hold up to any of the other scribes in the Muses’ birdcage.

Mary, the mother of Jesus, is among the disciples in the upper room according to Luke (Acts 1:14), but she does not have any further narrative role in Acts. As well, the birth narratives have no part in the theology or themes of Acts; in the words of Richard Pervo, the “Christology of Acts is based on the resurrection, without reference to the events and empowerment of Luke 1-2” (Hermeneia, 2009, page 19). When historical critics consider the upper room account, if they notice Mary at all, they are concerned about Luke’s accuracy when he represents the events of the early church. From all these perspectives, Mary is incidental to Acts. In this paper, I argue that Mary’s presence in the upper room is not incidental to Luke’s overall story. The upper room account, part of Luke’s introductory material to his second volume, provides perspective for the reader of Luke’s gospel account—his first volume. That is, Mary’s presence in the upper room—after the resurrection, waiting with the faithful disciples for the promised Spirit—provides a point of view point for Luke’s readers of the infancy story. Without the Acts reference, the story of Mary in the gospel account is dissonant; the willing servant of the birth story cannot even reach her son (Luke 8:19). With the Acts reference, Mary’s story becomes a paradigm of the agenda Luke announced at the beginning of his first volume: to set down an orderly account of the events that have been fulfilled to produce confidence in his reader (Luke 1:1-4). I argue that Mary’s presence in Acts makes sense of Luke’s patterns of redacting the Mary material from Mark’s gospel, which scholars have long observed, and of the tradition of double paternity which is a more recent discussion.

The two visions in Zechariah 4:1–5:4 participate with Amos and Jeremiah in a formal dialogue pattern initiated by mâ ’attâ ro’ê “What do you see?”, but they transform this visionary tradition in accordance with the post-exilic prophet’s distinctive style. As a number of scholars have noted, the verbal exchange between the prophet and the divine messenger in Zech 4:1–14 diverges sharply from the traditional question-answer-explanation sequence (Amos 7:7–9, 8:1–3; Jer 1:11–19, 24:1–10). Even Zech 5:1–4, while conforming to the expected three-part structure, shows a marked difference in how the explanation relates to the prophet’s description of what he sees. In this presentation, I will apply the tools of conversation analysis to the dialogues of Zechariah 4–5 and their predecessors in Amos and Jeremiah. While most conversation analysts focus on naturally-occurring speech, either in “institutional” (formal) or informal contexts, some have recognized that written texts—particularly those grounded in an oral tradition—are a specific type of institutional context in which conversation analysis can prove fruitful. A close examination of the adjacency pairs (e.g., question-answer sets) in these dialogues will demonstrate how conversation analysis can give us a more precise linguistic tool for describing the strategies and rhetorical effect of Zechariah’s unique revision of a traditional prophetic form.

From earliest childhood we are taught not to handle, not to taste, not to touch things that are unclean. Whereas in biblical tradition this reflected the fear of sacred or ritual contagion, contemporary cultural discourse warns us for reasons of hygiene and health against the microbial world. Yet the boundaries of the self are inseparable from the miniature cosmos of living creatures for which we provide a home: some 100 trillion microbes. Most microbes are commensals (literally, one who eats at the same table), some of which assist in digestion of food and defense against pathogens, and are indeed essential to our health and well-being, yet these organisms have been presented to our thinking as a threat, linked to notions of purity, pollution and danger. Just as the early Christians needed to learn to re-conceptualize purity and pollution in an interconnected world whose Creator had declared everything good, we too need to befriend our bodies – including the unseen, internal reality -- and learn to recognize ourselves not just as individuals but as thriving, diverse microbial communities. Against a background of changing biblical attitudes to purity, pollution and contagion, this paper develops a theology in which all things, visible and invisible to the human eye, are recognized as being created and sustained in Christ (Col 1:15-20). The method of suspicion, identification and retrieval will be utilized, given the challenge of perceiving microbiota as worthy of theological discourse. As we begin to think of ourselves as part of a great community of being, we can conceptualize on a personal level what it means to live as community – not just with other humans or other creatures we encounter – but with our selves, including our constituent members. Scientists are just beginning to understand the role of microbes in human health. So also do we need to engage in spiritual and cultural discourse which leads to greater interconnectedness, and thus to greater wholeness. If we can begin to grasp the significance of the lives we share with our own internal community, we may be better able to grasp our interconnectedness with our biology, our humanity, and the Earth as a whole.

An argument can be made that all forms of divinized ethics – ethics based on transcendent sources – have been effectively dismissed in the modern world. What is required instead, according to some legal scholars, is “humanized ethics” – ethics rooted in human needs and values (e.g., J. Glover, Humanity: A Moral History of the Twentieth Century, 2000). This of course is not a new thesis; its roots can be traced through Schopenhauer (On the Basis of Morality) to Homer, who scorned the justice of the gods because they can be influenced by humans (Illiad, IX, 497-501). This paper argues that a similar tension between divinized ethics and human ethics is present in first person divine speech in prophetic texts such as Isaiah 55:8-11, Hosea 6:4-6 and Hosea 11:8-11 (cf. Num 23:19; I Sam 15:29; Isa 31:3), where the decision to be either merciful or wrathful involves a collision within God between the moral claims of external commandments and internal imperatives. Why does God want or need to distinguish between divine and human compassion? What are the assumptions about the moral character of a God who may or may not choose to act like humans, who may or may not choose to act like God? Do God and humans share a basic moral norm (O. Kaiser, "Einfache Sittlichkeit und theonome Ethik in der alttestamentlichen Weisheit," in Gottes und der Menschen Weisheit, 1998)? Put differently, if Hosea 11:9 is the “answer” to a divine dilemma – “I am God [or `a god’] and not a human” – then what were the metaethical “questions” about divinity and morality assumed by both the ancient “author” and the readers of the text?

When biblical authors label particular practices such as child sacrifice and goddess veneration “foreign,” this is a rhetorical move whereby the particular author negatively categorizes phenomena that he rejects. Nonetheless, many passages feature Judeans doing such “foreign” practices for Yhwh, in Jerusalem, at the temple, as genuinely Judean things to do. While many scholars have recognized this tension within the primary sources, others tend to reproduce ancient authors’ vested stances, taking polemical portrayals at face value, overlooking the rhetorical work biblical authors accomplish with the categories “foreign”, “Canaanite”, and “other gods.” I term strategic use of the label “foreign” in primary texts: “foreignization.” We may then critique scholarly misunderstanding of “foreignization” as well as misguided use of “foreign” when attempting to explain difference among cultic preferences as “mis-foreignization.” Consider Jeremiah 44, where Jeremiah (and Deuteronomistic editors) incorporates the Judean women’s statement about honoring the Queen of Heaven (Jer 44:15-19) into Jeremiah’s threats against them, as an admission of guilt. However, the passage preserves an alternative explanation for destruction that resembles broadly attested ancient West Asian theological apologies for political defeat, as exhibited in the Moabite Mesha Stele, the Babylonian Cyrus Cylinder, as well as biblical explanations for the destructions of Israel and Judah. These frame communal calamity as the result of the patron deity’s disfavor regarding actions that his people purportedly have done or failed to do. Attributing destruction to the patron deity guards divine reputation, precluding the alternative conclusion that destruction resulted from a rival god defeating the patron deity. This shared theological logic is one of many examples of continuity between biblical and non-biblical theo-political phenomena. Such continuities were previously de-emphasized in line with claims that Israel and Judah were utterly distinct from their neighbors. One biblical explanation for calamity is that Judeans honored “foreign” and “other” gods, unacceptable according to requirements of exclusive covenant loyalty to their deity as suzerain. Jeremiah 44’s Judean women credit the Queen of Heaven for communal calamity, explaining that Judean misfortune and destruction occurred only when they stopped honoring her, as Jeremiah prefers. If one invokes the concept of “foreignness” (or similarly “monotheism”) to explain the debate in Jeremiah 44, this distances Jeremiah from his fellow Judean interlocutors within the narrative and distances the conceptual world of this text from its ancient cultural milieu. We must recognize that the “foreignness” of veneration of the Queen of Heaven is contested within the text. The Judean women state that they and their husbands have honored the Queen of Heaven for generations. Even if these characters are “unreliable witnesses,” their testimony would remain verisimilar for Jeremiah’s imagined audience. Veneration of the Queen of Heaven would then be a long-held, traditional, even mainstream Judean cultic practice, not “foreign.” The rhetorical practice evident in primary texts that utilize labels such as “foreign,” Canaanite, “other,” barbaric, heretical, etc. warrants critical analysis. Moreover, in revising problematic category-based explanations, we facilitate comparative analysis and attain fuller reconstructions of what potential social and religious dynamics the biblical anthology preserves.

Recent explorations in Jesus research have given much attention to the implications of what might broadly be described as “social memory theory” (e.g., A. Kirk, T. Thatcher, A. Le Donne, C. Keith). Yet P. Foster and Z. Crook have criticized the way such approaches have been applied. This paper enters into this debate by revisiting the question of whether or not Jesus anticipated his demise, building upon the method and arguments of Allison’s, Constructing Jesus (2010). This paper will respond to recent criticisms of Allison’s method by showing that his argument relies on more than a mere appeal to the general trustworthiness of early memories about Jesus via “recurrent attestation”. Although rightly critical of the standard “criteria of authenticity”, Allison actually makes his case for the eschatological character of Jesus’ message by highlighting other indicators of historical plausibility. Among other things, Allison holds that the impression that Jesus was motivated by eschatological concerns is believable because (1) it is plausible within a Jewish setting (e.g., pp. 76–78); (2) it makes sense of the effects of his ministry (e.g., pp. 48–53), and (3) because it provides a helpful hermeneutical framework for understanding various other elements of the Jesus tradition (e.g., traditions regarding the twelve; cf. pp. 67–76). Following Allison’s method, this paper argues that there are good reasons to believe the passion predictions found in the Gospels likely reflect Jesus’ own expectations. Of course, that Jesus believed he would meet a violent end is affirmed throughout our sources. An appeal to social memory theory could suggest that such views did not originate ex nihilo but in some way convey impressions left by Jesus. Yet there are further reasons for tracing their origin back to Jesus: they are plausible within a Jewish setting, make sense of the effects of his ministry, and explain other aspects of the Jesus tradition. In particular, such predictions are consistent with Jewish eschatological texts that envision a period of eschatological tribulation during which the righteous will suffer (e.g., Jer 30:1–9; 12:1–3; Zech 13:8–9; 4Q171 II, 9–12; 1Q33 I, 11–12; cf., e.g., B. Pitre) as well as traditions that link the death of Jewish martyrs to hopes for the eschatological vindication of Israel (e.g., 2 Macc. 7:32–33, 37–38; 4 Macc. 1:11; 17:22; 1 En. 47; T. Moses 9–10). That such perspectives inform early Christian texts seems clear (e.g., the work of C. Pate and D. Kenard). Notably, while also holding an eschatological outlook, Paul seems to have anticipated his own sufferings (1 Thess. 3:4), interpreting himself as a sacrificial offering (Phil 2:17). In particular, Allison has shown how he relates Christian suffering to eschatological tribulation traditions (Rom 8:19–25; cf. Col 1:24). The most plausible account of the data is that Jesus “keyed” his coming death to such traditions as well. In sum, this paper demonstrates that recent memory research has much to offer Jesus studies, though its application must be carefully supplemented with other considerations.

P.Oxy. 7.1007 (British Library, inv. 2047) is one of only two fragments of the LXX on parchment dated to before the fourth century (with P.Oxy. 11.1351) This page from the codex presents a unique combination of Jewish and Christian abbreviations of the sacred name. The treatment of kurios suggests the text was copied by a Jewish scribe, the use of the nomen sacrum for Theos suggest a Christian context. This paper will explore the various options and possibilities for the social context of the codex.

Where Does My Hope Come From? The Rhetorical Significance of Exod 34:6–7 in the Book of the Twelve

Paul’s use of the “heavenly mother Jerusalem/Zion” image and citation of Isa 54:1 in Gal 4:26-27 has provoked a variety of explanations in the history of the interpretation, but many interpreters have ignored the role of Isaiah 40-66 in explaining the “heavenly Jerusalem” as “our Mother” imagery. By reading Isaiah 40-66 with the question “Who are Mother Zion’s children?” in mind, the implicit inclusive relationship of Mother Zion to the nations becomes more explicit. An exclusively Jewish conception of the children of Zion transforms through the course of Isaiah 40-66 into an inclusive conception of the children, redefined around the “servants of Yahweh” (Isaiah 56-66), who are spiritually conceived and redefined around an ethic of faithful obedience rather than ethnicity. These ideas form the background of Paul’s employment of Mother Zion, as he redefines the people of God on the basis of faith and spirit in Galatians, not Jew and Gentile. The apocalyptic categories found in Galatians indicate that Paul’s view of the people of Yahweh has been transformed in line with the implicit eschatological vision found in Isaiah 40-66, which makes the nations into legitimate children of Yahweh. These ideas come to a climax in 4:21-31, where Paul uses allegory to redefine the children of Yahweh as spiritually conceived and participants in the new creation. Through reading of Isaiah with the concerns of Paul in mind (its apocalyptic and eschatological themes) and considering the intertextual relationship between these two texts, one can see why the Zion narrative and the expansion of Mother Zion’s offspring to include Gentiles is the background for Paul’s use of Isa 54:1 in Gal 4:27, as well as how Paul uses Isaiah to speak about his own contemporary situation.

In a 2014 SBL session devoted to “Poverty in the Biblical World,” I argued (1) that traditional readings of Matthew 5–7 have generally overlooked its rather concrete economic context and dynamics and (2) that in light of such issues, the Sermon seeks to form not only the concrete economic behavior of the Christian community, but also, and perhaps most importantly, the kinds of economic reasoning characteristic of those faithfully gathered around Jesus. This paper extends that work, focusing on the formative function of Matthew 6 (and 6:19–34, in particular), reading it specifically from the perspective of a consciously missional hermeneutic. Attending to the argumentative connections between 6:19–24 and 6:25–34, the paper argues that 6:24 serves a critical function relative to the concrete missional witness of the Christian community. In several ways, the concerns of this paper dovetail well with the theme, “Biblical Formation of the Congregation for Missional Witness.” First, the argument focuses upon the formative dynamics of Matthew 6, emphasizing—unlike individualistic readings of the Sermon—the need for communities to embody concretely the implications of Jesus’ teaching. Second, the paper exemplifies the benefits of attending to the hermeneutical nexus of a missional reading. It highlights two of the fundamental “streams” described by Hunsberger (2008) as characteristic of a “robust” missional hermeneutic, namely, streams two and three. While many understand “missional hermeneutics” primarily in terms of a grand, salvation-historical arc or missional meta-narrative evident on the ‘surface’ of biblical texts—and across the canon as a whole (stream one), the current paper seeks to demonstrate the interpretive force of the formative or equipping function of biblical texts (stream two) and of contemporary, missionally located readings of such formative texts (stream three). In other words, the present paper seeks to highlight the formative function of Matthew 6 both from an historical, exegetical perspective (i.e., the equipping function of the text) as well as from the hermeneutical vantage point of North American Christianity today (i.e., some of the implications of the text for contemporary, located readers). In this sense, paper moves decidedly beyond the descriptive task of stream one to the hermeneutical task that begins to emerge in stream three. Third, Matthew 6 would not be found on most lists of traditional “mission” texts (e.g., Matthew 28:16–20; Acts; 2 Corinthians 4–5; 1 Peter) to which those predisposed to finding “mission” in the Bible might instinctively turn. For that reason, it provides a useful ‘test case’ for the hermeneutical legitimacy and value of a missional reading. Fourth, the paper will also incorporate brief reflections on formation for mission from the author’s experience in leading a yearlong adult study of biblical texts oriented toward economic discipleship and justice, such as Matthew 6:19–34, in the context of a learning community at First Presbyterian Church, Berkeley, California. In short, the paper will argue that Matthew 6 functioned—and should continue to function—as critically important missional formation for the Christian community in trying economic times.

According to the Acts of the Apostles, the pre-66CE Christ-followers in Jerusalem rejected private ownership in favor of holding their possessions in common--as an essential witness to their conviction that Israel's God had raised Jesus from the dead. This Lukan claim is analyzed: (1) in light of biblical anticipations of a good life in an economy characterized by general reciprocity (koinonia) and the sharing of limited goods (including honor) in a sibling-based society ruled by Israel's God; (2) in view of Paul's both urging his converts to practice isotes (redistributive exchange) and his collection for the famine-stressed Christ-community in Jerusalem.

Issachar is hardly the most memorable of Jacob’s children in the popular imagination, yet the quiet reception of this character throughout the centuries stands as testimony to a continued interest in Leah’s fifth son. However, when the biblical Issachar is received in literature, it is not through the quirky account of his conception and naming, but rather primarily through the description in Jacob’s blessing of Issachar as “a strong donkey, lying down between the sheepfolds” who “bowed his shoulder to bear burdens, and became a slave at forced labour” (Gen 49.14-15) and the claim of the Chronicler that the sons of Issachar were “men who understood the times, with knowledge of what Israel should do” (1 Chron 12.33 [32]). This paper explores this phenomenon in selected novels, plays, and poetry from 1691 to 2013, and assesses its impact on our reading of the biblical Issachar. Recurring themes in the use of the character and name include connections between Issachar and messianism and linking biblical descriptions of Issachar and his tribe to contemporary political events, including in satire.

I will respond to Gericke's proposal that philosophical criticism ought to be a form of biblical criticism.

The last several decades of scholarship on homiletics have seen preachers emphasizing, to varying degrees, the importance of preaching the form of the text. The inclination to match sermon form to text genre has served as a catalyst to revolutionize preaching in many aspects. Fred Craddock’s inductive approach, which uses the exegetical process of interpretation as a schematic for sermon preparation, grows out of this concern. Thomas G. Long delves even deeper into this interest when he encourages preachers to ask, “How can people best hear the material in this sermon?,” rather than, “What is the most orderly way for this material to fit together?” (The Witness of Preaching, 96). Although Long and Craddock’s approaches build upon a commitment to be faithful to the form of the text, the focus on hermeneutics and communication that they both display undermines a strict adherence to matching sermon form to text genre. The epistolary genre, for example, is reflective and propositional in nature, but is not strictly deductive. Paul’s letters are an intersection of several plots—Paul’s narrative, the narrative of the church to which he writes, and God’s narrative. In this paper, I suggest a form in which to preach Paul’s letters that both encompasses solid hermeneutics (à la Craddock) and shapes the material in a way that people can best hear it (à la Long). It does not adhere to a strict separation of narrative and epistle but instead immerses hearers in the narrative world of Paul and presents his epistles in the way his original hearers would have experienced them. This method involves empathetic imagination, reconstructing the city and situation of an epistle’s recipients and creating an identity for the sermon hearers to adopt. It leads the congregation to put themselves in the shoes of an ancient Christian and imagine what a passage might have meant to that original hearer. After describing this sermon form, I will briefly illustrate how it works in a sermon series on Philippians by presenting an introduction to the series.

In the study of Christian origins Richard Bauckham and N. T. Wright (among others) have adopted the terminology “Christology of Divine Identity” as a way of speaking about how Jesus correlates with the God of Israel in NT and early Christian texts. This paper will problematize the identity category by analyzing assumptions about person and time in NT and early Christian interpretations of “divine dialogues” in the Septuagint. It will be argued that there was continuity between first-century and third- and fourth-century practices of Christian scriptural interpretation that compelled the developing church to prefer “person” language in speaking about how God is differentiable. As such the notion of divine persons in fellowship beyond the ordinary boundaries of time is not alien to the first-century, but exegetically presupposed. Accordingly, it is suggested that the category “Christology of Divine Persons” is to be preferred over “Christology of Divine Identity.”

An area of ancient written culture from the first millennium bce, the Ethiopian highlands have been home to a complex literary tradition (predominantly in Ge?ez) that has no parallel in sub-Saharan Africa. Its emergence was determined by late antique culture (Byzantium including Egypt, Palestine, Syria, and the Red Sea), Mediterranean cultural encounters, and the African background. The earliest known texts were translations from Greek, later works were adopted from Christian Arabic (esp. Copto-Arabic) literary tradition, in addition to a rich local written production. The complexity of literary history is fully reflected in the changes in grammar, lexicon and stylistic means of the Ge?ez language. During the years 2014-2019, the ERC-Advanced Grant TraCES project intends for the first time to analyze in detail the lexical, morphological and stylistic features of texts depending on their origins using the achievements of linguistics, philology, and digital humanities. An annotated digital text corpus of critically established texts is being created. Frequency and collocation analysis will reveal changes in grammatical and lexical choices across centuries. Novel ways of visualization of textual features and intertextual relationships will be offered to provide insights into the structure, history and evolution of texts. The resulting new understanding of the history of the Ge?ez language and of the Ethiopian creativity and literary activity will help establish features and criteria that may be helpful in determining the origins of texts when the direct ‘Vorlage’ is missing. The literary transmission and dissemination processes will be analyzed by contrasting and connecting Ethiopian late antique and medieval heritage with its parallels and antecedents in Near East and Mediterranean, contributing to our understanding of the cultural networks of the Christian Orient. A number of valuable research tools will emerge as by-products of the project. (S. https://www.traces.uni-hamburg.de/en.html)

Invited panelist

The paper will take into consideration "violent" behaviors that are ascribed to God and to human beings towards the establishment of the Kingdom of God in the Sayings Gospel Q. By comparing selected Q passages with the phrasing of documentary papyri, the paper will show how such violent imagery depends on the legal terminology with which the village scribes who composed and circulated the text where acquainted. Moreover, the paper will consider how violence is employed by Q to construct both divine and human agencies in the process of bringing about divine sovereignty. In conclusion and with specific reference to the rather enigmatic Q 16:16, the paper will show that violent imagery is deployed in Q as a means to convey a specific articulation of human participation in a theological political scenario that is consistent with the bureaucratic ethos of the local administrators that stood behind the document.

The philosopher Porphyry tell us that the shrine and meeting place of the Roman cult of Mithras (now called a "mithraeum") was designed and furnished as an "image of the universe" in order to "induct the initiate into a mystery of the soul's descent and exit back out again" ("On the Cave" 6). Despite good archaeological evidence that some mithraea were indeed designed symbolically as microcosms, Porphyry's statement about the mithraeum's function in enabling a "mystery of the soul's descent and exit back out again" has generally been discounted. My paper will argue, to the contrary, that a cognitive approach to the apprehension of symbols in a context of this sort validates Porphyry's assertion.

Ridley Scott’s 2014 film Exodus: Gods and Kings lightly marketed itself as “sensitive” to the issue of race, yet the result falls in line with Hollywood’s corporate racism while maintaining historical inaccuracy. Most of the racial controversy around Scott’s film focuses on the unfair job opportunities within Hollywood and film creators’ acquiescence to fulfill American cultural, racist norms rather than challenge them from a standpoint of industry power. Yet, two aspects of the film that have received too little attention are the historical context of debates about the racial categorization of ancient Egyptians and the specific ways in which the White, male perspective of the film imposes itself on "other" viewers. This paper will begin with a contextualization of the irony of 19th century constructions of ancient Egyptian racial categorization and transition to how Scott reifies White supremacist ideologies in Exodus (2014). By analyzing the white male lens through which Exodus (2014) portrays history, this paper will delve into the emotional and religious displacement experienced by the "other" viewers, who do not ascribe to the normative position of white masculinity in the film.

In Biblical Hebrew the grammatical object is variably marked by the specialized preposition ’t. Old Aramaic featured a similar system using the cognate form ’yt but a new system emerged in Imperial Aramaic in which the dative preposition l was reanalyzed as an object marker alongside its regular use as a dative. This development was paralleled to some extent in Biblical Hebrew, but it is not clear how wide the phenomenon was as it is often difficult to differentiate cases of lamed objecti from true dative arguments. The diagnosis is often based on distribution—if there are arguments realized elsewhere as accusatives, then an equivalent argument marked by l is generally considered to be an accusative as well—but this method does not account for the possibility that case marking may vary in certain contexts. This is compounded by the fact that we often do not have a large or diverse enough set of examples to recognize such patterns with any particular verb. This paper will discuss the relationship between transitivity and argument realization from a functional-typological perspective, outline common uses of the dative to mark verbal arguments in Biblical Hebrew, and explore some of the semantic and pragmatic factors that may trigger variations between accusative and dative marking.

This paper sets out to interpret the events surrounding the ritual feast of weeks (or Pentecost/Shavuoth) according to Acts 2 using critical post-colonial theory. These worshipers have traveled from coastal and island regions across Asia Minor and the Mediterranean Sea to memorialize this authentically Jewish feast that marks their identity. I will compare the significance of the anomalous event that transpires in Acts 2, the so called “Day of Pentecost” to similar ritual and cultural experiences Caribbean islanders, more appropriately, diasporic Jamaicans, might experience. While the more traditional historiographical approach may have some benefit in suggesting what the redactor might have had in mind at the time the text was written, such a dialogue with the text has historically had only one kind of reader in mind, coming from one kind of demographic, which continues to empower a homogeneous, Eurocentric epistemology. My approach through a post-colonial reading bears in mind coastal and island people whose identity has been formed by diasporic movements, as in Acts 2. How can Acts 2 be understood from the perspective of the subaltern individual who identifies with both island and inland geographic spaces? The cultural description the late Stuart Hall provides is helpful here. As a Jamaican islander, I have been first shaped by the amalgam of Présence Africaine and a Présence Européenne in addition to a handful of other cultures that colonialism has formed in me. Secondly, as a naturalized American in-lander, the Présence Americaine progressively re-frames me.[1] As a product of this ambivalent hybridity, I speak and subconsciously relate to a blend of English dialects, American, British and Jamaican in addition to what linguists call Jamaican Creole, or Patois. I am fluent in Spanish fluently and understand other languages for research purposes. Living in the United States as a child, I would look forward to returning home every year during the celebration of Jamaica’s independence. August is a High Holiday season that is felt strongly in the island as an ingathering of expatriates return largely from England, Canada, the United States, and other Caribbean nations. Likewise, the text of Acts 2 is located in a complex cultural network. The variety of languages we learn about in the text, from pantos ethnous (every nation) gather together in a prescribed geographical space hearing each other speak in idia dialecto (each one’s own dialect). The text, in v. 9 informs us that this diasporic ingathering, although transient for the purposes of the annual Feast of Weeks, largely find its origins in island and coastal regions. Out of the events of Acts 2, a unique new cultural identity is formed, to again migrate. Using space theories of Philip Sheldrake and Edward Soja’s thirdspacing, how might we understand the location of this ingathering as well as the participation of the pantos ethnous in the dramatic events narrated in Acts 2?

Though it may be tempting to see LDS scholarship as a monolithic structure, the truth is it is more a spectrum, and within that spectrum is the Church’s Educational programs, and even specific, Religious Education at Brigham Young University. For those so employed, the distinction between Religious Education and Religious Studies may be subtle, but an important one. Yet finding the balance between our place within the academy and our responsibilities as religious educators can be challenging. In this presentation I’ll seek to explore this dynamic while suggesting that the time may be right to present good, critical studies that present the unique contribution that LDS approaches to scripture and ancient history have in the greater realm of the academy.

Traditionally, Ephesians and Colossians have been read in support of each other as letters written by Paul. Nonetheless, a naïve reading of these two epistles alongside each other blurs some significant differences between them. Examining the earliest text of Eph. 5:21-6:9, this paper highlights the carefully nuanced revisions which the author of Ephesians makes to Col. 3:18-4:1, demonstrating both the author’s resistance to the imperial household relationships in view in Colossians and the author’s insistence that relationships in a Christian home conform to Paul’s own instructions, as found in his genuine letters, on how the baptized must treat each other.

While dealing with Roman policy towards the Jews of Rome, Philo states that Augustus "was aware that the great section of Rome on the other side of the Tiber was occupied and inhabited by Jews, most of whom were Roman citizens emancipated. For having been brought as captives to Italy, they were liberated by their owners and were not forced to violate any of their native institutions" (Philo Leg. 155). The question is whether this passage, which is often taken at face value, may be taken as historically reliable. While Philo's positive evaluation of Augustus' policy towards the Jews is corroborated by literary and epigraphical material, the other statements of this passage raise a number of questions: when and in which circumstances Jewish prisoners of war reached Rome; whether they constituted the first bulk of the Jewish settlement; whether all or most of them were liberated by their owners and whether this means that they automatically became Roman citizens. A survey of contemporary Roman sources suggests that Philo’s statement depicts a reality much more rosy than it probably was and cannot be taken at face value. However, this does not mean that Philo consciously lied to his readers, as some scholars assume. After all, he was not a historian but rather a politician, whose political agenda was more important for him than factual accuracy. His statement on the beginning of the Jewish settlement at Rome, therefore, is probably to be seen as an example of factual inaccuracy that betrays political and apologetic aims.

The Hebrew Bible refers to the Egyptian king in many different units and references. The references are not uniform in their terminology or in their treatment of the Egyptian royal institution. The most common term in use is “Pharaoh,” appearing on its own or with the additions “king of Egypt” and sometimes the Pharaoh’s proper name. The term “Pharaoh” is therefore employed as a substitute for the proper Egyptian name (e.g. Og king of Bashan, Pharaoh king of Egypt). This evolvement of the Egyptian term pr-’A from a title to a proper name, can be traced to ancient Egyptian texts from the late 22nd Dynasty and onwards. This study will therefore present the Egyptian etymology of the term pr-’A followed by a survey of the different biblical occurrences with special regard to the variations in the terminology. Finally this study will suggest that different terms can be ascribed to different phases of the biblical text, reflecting different attitudes towards Egyptian kingship.

At the heart of early Jewish Apocalypticism lie two fundamental temporal schemes: the astronomical-calendrical template of the Book of Luminaries and the plan of history in the Apocalypse of Weeks. While the former pays meticulous attention to the minute particles of time, the latter is concerned with large and not necessarily accurate year cycles. Two additional paradigms dominate the early apocalyptic scene, both of them deeply historical but only vaguely temporal: the Animal Apocalypse and the Four Kingdoms Model (Daniel 2, 7). The present paper interrogates whether there was ever an attempt to compromise these conflicting temporalities. The Qumran texts 4QOtot and 11QMelchizedek, as well as passages from the Hebrew part of Daniel, will be considered in that respect. If the answer is negative, the question remains whether and how the followers of the great apocalyptic seers explained the gaps to themselves. In a way, it is the ancient Greek philosophical question of Unity and Plurality again: how do the smallest components of reality correspond to the large-scale blocks which construct the same reality? Answering this question is prone to disclose several unusual insights about Time in Jewish apocalyptic literature.

Justin Ukpong posited that a “concern to link the biblical text with the realities of African contexts, and the methodological implications that this entails” constitutes one of the distinctive features of African Biblical Hermeneutics. Critical studies on the Primeval History (Genesis 1-11) spearheaded by Herman Gunkel, had concluded that Israel appropriated it from myths, derived from shared cultural milieu of the Ancient Near East, circulated in oral form but later preserved in ancient texts, like the Gilgamesh Epic. Consequently, majority of works on Gen.1-11 focused on its Ancient Near Eastern context, and Ancient Near Eastern texts; to the neglect of its correlations with oral traditions from other regions of the world like West Africa, probably because of cultural divergence, and lack of ancient written text from those regions. This necessitates a theoretical basis for utilising resources from distant cultures, and employing oral texts as hermeneutic tools in analysing the Biblical text. Nigel Nicholson proffers intertextuality as a critical tool that “can provide a model for articulating the relations between fixed texts and informal oral traditions”. Cross-cultural intertextuality therefore, is applicable in articulating the relations between the Biblical text and ancient West African oral traditions, if adequate consideration is given to the fundamental orality underlying both the Biblical text and the extant forms of ancient West African myths. In this paper, I analysed the cross-cultural intertextuality between Gen.8:6-17 and an oral text from ancient Yoruba culture of South-Western Nigeria with the axioms of orality. The analysis reveals that the motifs of deluge, birds, and expanding dry land are shared heritage among the Hebrew and the Yoruba, implying either that their ancestors must have experienced the same event, or they descended from a common ancestral source which directly experienced the event. Keywords: Cross-cultural Intertextuality; Deluge; Orality; Primeval History; West African Oral Traditions.

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Scholars have struggled for more than two centuries to parse the texts of the Hebrew Scriptures and to identify the different authors, genres, and editorial layers of the text. While the issue is foundational to nearly all aspects of the critical study of the Hebrew Bible, the field as a whole lacks a consensus concerning a methodology to tackle these critical questions. Many have tried to parse the texts on the basis of different styles. The quest, though, for any quantifiable, controllable measure of what "style" is, remains elusive. As a result, most of the proposed authorial and editorial divisions of the biblical texts are made on the basis of content, even as scholars sense that different biblical writers employed different styles. Meanwhile, over the last decade, a handful of computational linguists have achieved unprecedented results working in the sub-field of text-categorization, also known as authorship attribution. Results published in 2011 by a team of scholars led by Moshe Koppel demonstrate that it is possible to apply these algorithms to the Hebrew Bible and to achieve highly significant, controllable, verifiable results. We are in the beta stage of producing a web-based application for the categorization and analysis of Hebrew Scriptures along lexical, morphographic, and syntactic lines. In this presentation we will demonstrate Tiberias’ capacity to provide scholars the full panoply of measurable textual features and state-of-the-art machine learning methods to provide reliable statistical evidence confirming (or falsifying) user-provided hypotheses about distinct stylistic threads in the entire biblical corpus. The tool goes far beyond anything available to biblical scholars today. The tools available today, at best, can provide statistical analysis about a single word or phrase, but nothing about the statistical significance of a variety of elements when found in a given text. The tool will give biblical scholars new capabilities with which to consider a range of critical questions: How many authors may have produced this text? Are two disparate texts written by the same author? Does this text reflect an earlier stage of ancient Hebrew or a later one? Does this psalm more closely resemble the linguistic profile of one genre or another? Note: A 3-minute “trailer” video on the Tiberias Project is now available at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MDjx99KTMto

The Hebrew word for “yoke,” ol, often takes a concrete or literal usage, referring to the device that binds pack animals and chariot horses (eg Num 19:2). However, the term is also used metaphorically, in political or theological contexts, to connote submission to, or dominance by, a king, nation, or deity (eg 1 Kg 12:4ff; Is 9:3; Jer 5:5). The submissive entity is portrayed as a pack animal while the dominant power is analogous to the human master. The animal who accepts the yoke accepts the mastery. In like manner, Israel is seen to accept the mastery of the conquering Assyrians, or of God and the divine commands and statutes. The use of the ol metaphor is greatly expanded in Rabbinic literature and Jewish liturgy, where it becomes a core theolegomenon. The Akkadian semantic equivalent, nir, and less commonly, synonyms such as absanu, have identical usage patterns, on the literal and metaphorical levels. In an example of the latter, Tiglath Pileser I (Annals) asserts “I imposed the heavy yoke of my lordship (nir belutiya) upon him in for all time.” In a theological context “The Babylonian Theodicy” contains the epigram, “he who bears the yoke of his God (nir ili ) never lacks food, however sparse.” Note also that the Aramaic cognate of Akkadian nir is typically found in the Targumim when translating Biblical ol. However, in an anomalous and happy linguistic coincidence, nir in Mesopotamian writings is also used metonymically to represent dominance and submission in political and theological spheres. The nir is the yoke found on the king’s battle chariot, and stands, by way of synecdoche, for his military might. Thus, Sennacherib’s campaign accounts typically display narrative patterns such as “I turned my yoke to NN.” As he directs his chariot, so are directed the totality of his forces. In the same vein, we find the expression, “NN submitted to my yoke.” Here, the readers is meant to envision the conquered king, in a gesture of abject submission, bowing down directly in front of the Sennacherib’s chariot. Occasionally, the metonym is used with one remove. The enemy is said to submit to the yoke of Ashur – The Assyrian king’s triumph is, by extension, the victory of his patron deity. Applying contemporary theoretical frameworks, the proposed paper will flesh out the connection between the Akkadian nir metaphors and metonyms, and in turn, their relationship to the Biblical and later Jewish usage of the ol metaphors. This research is an outgrowth of my work on circumcision metaphor and metonymy the the Bible and Jewish literature, in their Ancient Near Eastern contexts.

In the case of a text such as the Genesis Apocryphon, which has been classified and read in so many different ways since its initial publication, and whose textual remains were not all published simultaneously, the history of its interpretation can and often does become a virtual and vital part of its interpretation. Although it was one of the first seven scrolls to be discovered in Cave 1, it was not published until almost a decade after its discovery, a decade during which Qumran studies began to develop and during which the other six scrolls were published and began to be analyzed. But the Apocryphon was quite different from the other six scrolls. To begin with, it was written in Aramaic, whereas the others were all written in Hebrew, and it clearly belonged to a genre different from all of the others. Only five of its twenty-two (later realized to be twenty-three) columns were published because of its poor physical condition. So it offered a challenge to its early readers and interpreters, perhaps beyond the ones presented by the other “new” scrolls discovered in Cave 1, the Hodayot, the War Scroll, the Community Rule and the Habakkuk pesher. This paper will trace the ways in which the Genesis Apocryphon was read and interpreted from its initial publication by Nahman Avigad and Yigael Yadin in late 1956 until the appearance of the first edition of Joseph A. Fitzmyer’s now standard commentary in 1967. We shall see how the initial hypotheses and presuppositions of those early readers of the Apocryphon affected how they interpreted it. What did they call the work? In what context and against what historical and literary background did they read it? To what literary genre did they assign it? To what degree did scholars’ religious orientation, Jewish or Christian, affect their approaches to it? All of these elements and others played a role in the stance that scholars adopted toward this new text. We shall see that the attempts to classify the Apocryphon proceeded from somewhat unsophisticated initial attempts to more subtle and complex ones. As we trace the paths that earlier scholars walked down in attempting to understand the text, the processes and strategies which they employed in reading the Apocryphon, and the lenses through which they examined it, we actually begin to understand the work more fully. Even some of the false starts made by those readers of the Apocryphon in the 1950s and 1960s can sometimes aid in our attempt to read and interpret the Apocryphon today.

The narrative of the sinful woman anointing Jesus’ feet is for many the paradigmatic story of repentance and forgiveness, highlighting in particular the woman’s tears as a sign of contrition. For others, particularly socio-historical contributors, the emphasis is the radical inclusiveness of Jesus’ fellowship meal with ‘sinners’, an offensive gesture to many contemporaries (cf. the studies of Dunn, Neyrey, Bloomberg and others). Both rightly perceive Jesus as the dominant actor of the scene in Luke 7:36-50, offering salvific goods to the woman, but they somehow underemphasize Jesus’ reinterpretation of the woman’s actions as the laudable gestures of a host. Exploring ancient and anthropological notions of interactions between guests and hosts (Pitt-River, Arterbury), this paper argues that her hospitality is at the heart of the narrative, controlling any notions of gracious forgiveness or care for the marginalized. The Pharisee establishes an initial exchange of hospitality with Jesus, which is put at risk by the appearance of the woman. The woman’s provocative behaviour threatens to dishonor Jesus and indirectly his host. Jesus, however, does nothing to mend the initial cycle of hospitality. Instead he opens an alternative cycle, transferring the key function of the host from Simon to the woman. This rearranging of relationships is strangely and widely overlooked by exegetes, even while the activities of the woman are correctly read as hospitable actions. This paper will argue that far from being merely at the receiving end, the unknown woman is imaginatively and provocatively reconstructed as the powerful giving actor, who does not endanger the hospitality setting but actually upholds it. Though the woman is mute (cf. Corley’s criticism) her actions speak loudly and make her the central character, who becomes paradigmatic for the proper hosting of God’s messenger.

“O foolish Galatians, who has ensnared you?” Nearly three and a half centuries after Paul had reproached the Galatians for their spiritual regression and their apparent return to the works of the law, Jerome, writing in Bethlehem ca. 390 C.E., examined anew the underlying cause of Paul’s anger. Galatians 3:1a, Jerome explains, “can be understood in two ways: either that the Galatians…are called foolish because they have started in the spirit yet have finished in the flesh,” or that they are called foolish because of their ethnicity, since “each and every provincia possesses its own character.” To prove the latter point, Jerome unfurls a winding, digressive ethno-history of the Galatians, which he constructs in order to explain the underlying reasons for their arrogance, stupidity, and senselessness. By his reckoning, then, the error and obstinacy of the Galatians was as much a result of their own blood as it was an affirmative choice of the flesh over and against the spirit. This paper analyzes a series of late antique commentaries on Galatians (by Jerome, Augustine, Marius Victorinus, and Ambrosiaster) with a view to investigating the connection between theological disobedience and ethnic constitutions or national dispositions. Through the interpretive history of Galatians, I attempt to trace the exegetical connection between Christian heresy and genealogical diversity. For Jerome and other late antique interpreters, the Galatians were an ethnographic plaything—a canvas upon which they could propose a correlation between Christian error, on the one hand, and ethnic mentalities, on the other. The differences (haereseis) that Paul naturalized in 1 Corinthians 11.19 were reimagined in late antiquity both as heresies and as heresies of ethnological origin. On the reading of these Paul interpreters, Paul was transformed from an apostle for Christ into a theological ethnographer and heresiologist.

Undergraduate students often have only a rudimentary understanding of why there are so many Bible versions. An instructor using biblical software can quickly reveal the many important differences in translation, but it is also important to help students understand why translations are different, i.e., what theoretical and practical factors have shaped each version. This presentation will demonstrate techniques developed in a course titled, "The Digital Bible," in which students use Accordance and free online tools to explore the underlying methods and assumptions behind particular translation decisions. One common motif in treatments of introductory exegesis is the contrast between "formal correspondance" and "dynamic equivalence" approaches to translation, popularized by Eugene Nida and now usually presented as a spectrum between two poles. Students are taught, for instance, that the NASB is one of the most "literal" Bibles and the Message is the most "dynamic," and they are asked to decide which version is "correct." However, translation theory in recent decades has moved beyond these two categories in order to emphasize that all translation is interpretation. Translators participate in power-laden interpretive frameworks, and all translations function within a web of reader expectations and needs. Students should recognize, for instance, that every translation of controversial passages related to gender (e.g., Ezekiel 23, 1 Timothy 2) is constrained by particular social, political, and theological goals and assumptions. By using tagged texts, lexicons, translators' notes, etc., students can gain a richer understanding of the translation process and why it matters to interpretation. Rather than casting one translation as more "accurate" or "faithful," this exercise shows how translation is always already an interpretive act.

The Hebrew phrase mille yad is commonly understood to refer to the ordination of priests. However, of the eighteen occurrences of the phrase, only thirteen occur in contexts explicitly mentioning priests. The remaining five, which comprise over one-quarter of occurrences, are devoid of explicit connection to priests, thus requiring scholars to nuance the idiom to fit these contexts. Additionally, even in Exodus 29, whose prescription for the ordination of priests preserves four occurrences of the phrase, the standard meaning of the phrase mille yad complicates the image of ordination by requiring Aaron and his sons to be ordained multiple times. Thus half of the occurrences of the phrase are infelicitous to the standard meaning of priestly ordination. The goal of this paper is to hang in front of each of those eighteen occurrences a metaphorical sign saying, “Caution: Road Work Ahead.” Ideally such a sign would cause readers to slow down and further evaluate the context of each occurrence of the phrase. In order to do so, this paper seeks to elucidate the complications surrounding the commonly accepted interpretation of the phrase mille yad. This will be accomplished by an examination of the occurrences of the phrase outside ordination contexts and then proceed to Exodus 29. As the Akkadian phrase qatam mullu has often been adduced in support of the standard interpretation, I will also briefly evaluate its relevance. I then conclude with a suggested interpretation of the phrase that clarifies three of the previously problematized passages.

Scholars have long been interested in Irenaeus’s understanding of the authority of Hermas due to his introducing it as ??af?. Opinions have been diverse, ranging from his seeing it as Scripture, on the same level as the Prophets and Apostles, to his counting it as merely an edifying writing. A recent article by Steenberg has brought the question to the forefront again. Steenberg renews the argument for its status as Scripture in the thought of the bishop of Lyons. However, there has never been a full accounting of how we are to understand the authority, not only Hermas, but also of other early Christian texts referred to by Irenaeus as ??af? and those authored by Christians he believed were associated with the apostles, particularly 1 Clement, Papias’s Exposition, and Polycarp’s Epistle. This article, attempts to set forth such an accounting. It argues that Irenaeus has an understanding of the term ‘Scripture’ that includes the Prophets and the Apostles, in first, foundational place, but also includes those writings of Clement, Papias, Polycarp in second, derivative place. For Irenaeus, then, ‘Scripture’ was a term of broad meaning, but his prejudice for the foundational nature of the Prophets and Apostles remains clear. It is this bias which he passes on and which guides future principles of canonical definition.

The Ethiopic Biblical canon, broadly conceived, does not include the four books of Maccabees that are traditionally present in the so-called deuterocanonical lists of the Catholic and Eastern Orthodox traditions. There is, however, a completely different text known as Mäqabeyan that exists in several manuscripts. Aside from Josef Horowitz’s 1906 article entitled “Das äthiopische Maccabäerbuch,” and the article by Alessandro Bausi in the Enclyclopaedia Aethiopica, very little work has been done on this important text. In this presentation, I attempt to provide an introductory survey to the Mäqabeyan. First, I present a survey of the known manuscripts of the Ethiopic Maccabees, which today are located in various places including Bibliothèque nationale de France in Paris, British Library in London, Staatsbibliothek Preussischer Kulturbesitz in Berlin, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana in Vatican City, National Library of Israel in Jerusalem, University Library in Cambridge, Hill Museum and Manuscript Library in Collegeville, Ethiopian Manuscript Imaging Project in Oregon, and the Ethio-SPARE project in Hamburg. Secondly, I highlight the uniqueness of the Ethiopic Maccabees, which is the only native Ethiopian biblical text of which we know. It is also unique for not being translated from Greek in the Aksumite period, and for its relationship to the Hebrew Yosippon via an Arabic intermediary. Additionally, I discuss the brief history of research on the text and also provide some details about the canonicity of the text within the Ethiopian tradition.

The initial nasal of primae nun verbs in the Qal imperative and infinitive construct in Biblical Hebrew is manifest in some verbs, e.g., ntôš (Prov 17:14), but absent in others, e.g. sa? (Gen 13:14). This has been attributed to either the thematic vowel of the verb, or the imperative being clipped from the prefix conjugation. In this paper I will argue that there is no basis for the association of this phenomenon with the thematic vowel, and that the clipping hypothesis is untenable. There is rather a phonetic condition that can account for the loss of /n/ in these forms. A voiceless fricative following the /n/ disconnects the nasality from the consonant and ultimately deletes it. The phenomenon is brought about by speakers reanalyzing the [+nasal] feature as the common spurious nasalization that occurs in vowels preceding voiceless fricatives. The same phenomenon can be seen in English five, goose from Proto-Germanic *fimf, *gans. This process is reconstructed to Proto-Northwest-Semitic, and its outcome can therefore be seen in Ugaritic and Aramaic, in addition to Biblical Hebrew.

While there has been a concern for method and criteria within the study of the Historical Jesus, there has not been an equal interest in its “metahistorical” aspects. Working with the theory of Hayden White, this paper will explore the historiography lying behind the various Historical Jesus’s. The histories of Jesus, like all history, follow certain rules of formation, which determine the shape, ideology, and mode of the history. Hayden White considers four basic elements of history that I will argue are immediately relevant to current representations of the historical Jesus. They are emplotment (the narrative shape given the history), ideology (the attitude the historical narrative holds towards the social status quo), argument (the structure of logic used to explain what the historical narrative means), and trope (the structural form that guides the historical narrative). After explaining these four elements, I will use them to analyze modern (re)constructions of the historical Jesus. Primarily, I will compare and contrast how the cynic/sage Jesus and the apocalyptic Jesus are emplotted, what their ideological orientations are, the general nature of the argument used to explain their respective relevance, and the tropes informing their respective narratives. In brief, I will argue that the “cynic/sage Jesus” is typically emplotted as a romance or satire; its ideological orientation is anarchism; its argument is contextualist; and its trope is irony. I will argue that the “apocalyptic Jesus” is emplotted as a tragedy; its ideological orientation is radicalism; its argument is typically mechanistic or contextualist; and its trope is metonymy. While all of this may not help us get any closer to the actual historical Jesus, it will help us better understand the major historical Jesus proposals in front of us. History is typically not merely an exercise in that which is archaic; typically it possesses a latent agenda. This model can help us discern what ideological preoccupations are embedded within the various proposals concerning Jesus.

While the Hanbalî scholar Najm al-Dîn al-Tûfî has often been cited in modern scholarship for his rationalistic contributions to usûl al-fiqh, his exegetical theory laid out in his book al-Iksîr fî ‘ilm al-tafsîr does not appear to have been so widely recognized. While many earlier Qur’ân commentators and some other scholars wrote methodological introductions to tafsîr (exegesis), including al-Tabarî, al-Râghib al-Isfahânî, Ibn ‘Atiyyah, Fakhr al-Dîn al-Râzî, and al-Qurtubî, and exegetical principles were also extensively elaborated in usûl al-fiqh works, al-Tûfî nevertheless made a unique contribution by emphasizing the rhetorical features of the Qur’ân’s language, including figures of speech, similes, and metaphors. He was preceded in this mainly by the famous rhetorician ‘Abd al-Qâhir al-Jurjânî, whose contribution has been highlighted by Margaret Larkin in her book The Theology of Meaning and even more in her article “The Inimitability of the Qur’ân: Two Perspectives,” but it is al-Tûfî who systematically applies the rhetorical categories, which he rearranges in his own way, to the Qur’ân. In applying rhetorical categories as major tools for interpreting and understanding the Qur’ân, al-Tûfî moves far away from the common, popular impression that the Qur’ân only has one meaning, an idea strongly supported by Ibn Hazm of the Zâhirî school, and one which has reappeared in strength in recent times. This idea is based on an unstated and often unrecognized underlying theory of language that there is a one-to-one correspondence between words and meanings, that a text necessarily means only what it says, no more, no less. While most medieval exegetes recognized categories of ambiguity, such as mushtarik, mujmal, and mutashabih (rendered by Muhammad Hashim Kamali as difficult, ambivalent, and intricate), they nevertheless strove always to limit their impact on varying interpretation. By introducing rhetorical categories and structures, al-Tûfî greatly widens the interpretive possibilities.

The book of Daniel is one of the top-represented works among the Dead Sea Scrolls. If one correlates attestation with the popularity a work enjoyed, then this is especially remarkable in that these manuscripts come very soon after its estimated date of composition (within about 50 years). In this paper, I will examine the current status of research on the Dead Sea Daniel manuscripts. I begin by discussing the form of Daniel attested in these fragments and how the evidence problematizes earlier text critical methods applied to their reconstruction. I consider two aspects of this question: (1) the presence of a “Book of Daniel” at Qumran; (2) the relation of the manuscripts to the different editions of the book (MT, OG, Th). I offer several examples where the earlier publications of these fragments were incorrectly presented in order to align with the Masoretic version of the book when the proposed reconstructions clearly do not fit in the allowed space. I conclude by looking at the status of Daniel at Qumran and its relation to other works of the Dead Sea Scrolls (dependence, influence, reception), and show that the actual picture is quite different than previously thought.

Femineity, meaning womanliness, is here used to express both the presence of the female in the gospel and the female aspect of the Deity portrayed by John. Jung and others have maintained that every person has both a male and a female aspect; we propose that we use this principle as a lens through which to interpret John. Doing this, we find just as important as the male theology of Son and Father is Jesus' attention to the women one on one, the female aspect of the disciples, the female aspect of the story as a whole, and in particular the female aspect of Jesus himself. When Jesus, from the cross, says Behold your mother, followed by the issue of blood and water from his own body, it is Jesus himself who is named (by Jesus and by the Evangelist) as Mother. We might also speak of the Holy Spirit (or the creator) as midwife to the new creation. This is the point of the image of the new birth that is so prominent in John. Along the way to making that point there are several other themes, including: the one to one conversations between Jesus and women will be seen to develop an image of the true believer (one who delivers children for God); and after the resurrection appearances, the disciples' hearts become the womb into which the Spirit must enter and grow for the new creation to be born into the world. These images would have been clear to the First Century hearer of the story and deserve to be articulated for the reader of today. The Femineity is as significant for the gospel message as is the Son of God. Note: this presentation will expand upon a previous paper and hope to stimulate discussion toward further publications.

This paper presents an examination and analysis of an unpublished Greek epitaph from Egypt. The epitaph commemorates a woman who is identified as a “Jew” (Ioudaia) and who was remembered for showing love to orphans. Yet, while the deceased is identified as a “Jew,” she is also styled as an “Ama,” a title that otherwise only occurs for Christian holy women in late antique Egypt. Thus, this epitaph resists a straightforward classification as it employs terminology that seemingly straddles religious categories.

To be human is to be embodied, and to be embodied is to be emplaced. The experience of being embodied and the experience of being emplaced are inseparable – to be is to be in place. Within the book of Jeremiah, there is an interpenetration of body and place that blurs the boundaries between human, city and land. The prophetic body is fortified (1:18-19) and the fortified city is embodied. The land calls out in groaning and lament. Drawing on insights from cultural geography and trauma theory, this paper seeks to explore the power of mis-placed bodies for a community whose place of knowing and meaning making has been decimated and destroyed.

The paper will compare the list of builders in Neh ch. 3 with a Neo-Babylonian cuneiform text, dating from the time of Cyrus II (539-530 BCE). The latter has been described as the “Craftsmen’s Charter” by its first editor. It represents a contract between the representatives of the Persian administration and several groups of artisans designated under the generic term ummânu “experts.” The text enumerates the artisans by groups, which may indicate the existence of corporations: “carpenters” (nagaru); “metal engravers” (kubšaru); “jewelers” (kutimu). Among the jewelers one finds sons of “oblates” (širku). Limits were imposed to their works and punishments entailed if the artisans did not respect them. The biblical texts found in Neh 3 lists “jewelers” (Neh 3:8,31), “perfumers” (Neh 3:8), “merchants” (Neh 3:31-32), “corporation of snake-charmers” (Neh 3:12) and “oblates” (Neh 3:32; 11:21). Both texts describe projects of building and reparation. Moreover, both enterprises were carried out under the auspices of the Persian administration. While the Neo-Babylonian contract regarding the reparation of Eanna, a cultic complex in Uruk/Warka comprising several sanctuaries, may be precisely dated to 534 BCE, the list in Neh 3 stems from ca. 445, and deals with the reparation of the citadel, the temple complex and the walls of Jerusalem, called “the Holy City” in Neh 11:1. C. Schultz compared this Neo-Babylonian text with lists found in Neh 7 and Ezra 2. These latter two lists, however, deal with the people who came back from exile and do not mention artisans. Therefore, I argue that the list in Neh 3 represents a better analogy to the Neo-Babylonian contract allowing a fruitful comparison.

In late antiquity, the Syriac Life of Symeon the Stylite (for which our earliest extant version dates to 473 CE) did not exist as a single, stable text; rather, it displays a complex process of textual transmission, in which scribes produced manuscripts for and within specific communal contexts and revised the contents of texts in conjunction with cult practices related to Symeon. This is demonstrated by three different versions of the Syriac Life of Symeon which survive from the fifth and sixth centuries. Each of these versions presents diverging accounts of events, narrative arrangements, and descriptions of the saint. This presentation focuses on the unique narrative organization of a previously unstudied version of the Syriac Life of Symeon found in British Library Additional Manuscript 14484, ff. 134-152 (sixth-century). I propose that this version of the text was composed for an intended audience of pilgrims and was meant to be read within the context of pilgrimage performance at Symeon’s shrine. In this version of the Syriac Life of Symeon, groups of miracles are punctuated by increasingly intense visions and ascetic renunciations. This intensification of visions and renunciations prepares Symeon to complete acts of intercession more difficult than his previous miracles. In this way, ascetic performance and visionary experience underlie the gradual development of Symeon’s intercessory abilities as a holy man. At the same time, this unique, and ultimately teleological, ordering of the narrative mimics the pilgrim’s progression through the saint’s shrine. Just as each prayer practice transformed Symeon, so also the pilgrim is transformed by his prayer and punctuated movement through the site, ultimately culminating in seeing the column and partaking in Eucharistic liturgy. The scribe’s presentation of Symeon’s life is intricately connected with the performance of devotion to the posthumous saint.

One of Philo of Alexandria’s better-known statements on the Sabbath comes from his treatise On the Migration of Abraham. Philo condemns those Jews who investigate the symbolic nature of the laws but neglect the observance of the command when “they ought to have given careful attention to both aims” (89). Though Philo agrees with the interpretations of these extreme allegorists, as they have been styled by modern scholars, he argues for the necessity of Sabbath observance, claiming that those who neglect the command act as though they are “disembodied souls” (90) rather than part of the Jewish community. For Philo, Sabbath observance is one way in which the Jewish community is defined and distinguished from other peoples. For example, Philo notes that unlike other nations, the Jews know all their laws because they devote one day each week to studying them. While it is certain that for Philo the Law of Moses is given to the Jewish nation in particular, what the Sabbath teaches is advisable for all peoples. Throughout his corpus, Philo explains various benefits of Sabbath observance, benefits which are presented as desirable not only for Jews, but for others as well. When the Jews cease from work one day each week, not only is their energy restored so that they might work harder the other six days, but they are also able to devote time to learning the virtues which their ancestral Law teaches; therefore, they emulate the perfect balance of the active and the contemplative lives. This paper will examine the ways in which Philo constructs Jewish identity through his articulation of the benefits of Sabbath observance, giving attention to his vision of Judaism as both particular and universal. On the one hand, Sabbath observance distinguishes the Jewish ethnos from their neighbors in that they alone abstain from work on this day to devote themselves to the study of wisdom. On the other hand, Philo uses his descriptions of the benefits of Sabbath observance to convince his Hellenistic Jewish audience that through this ethnically particular practice, they are both acquiring and exhibiting universally lauded virtues. Such a claim requires understanding the Jews’ ancestral laws as in accord with the law of nature, and thus universally applicable.

Learning about ancient worldview and cultural practices is an essential component of understanding biblical literature. The Lexham Cultural Ontology (LCO) is a novel classification of concepts relevant to the cultural world of the Bible. Using a model similar to Yale's Outline of Cultural Materials ([OCM]) but adapted to biblical studies, the LCO identifies, describes, and organizes over 1100 different concepts. We have annotated passages throughout the entire Hebrew Bible and New Testament with concepts from the LCO to make it easy to find information on the cultural background of thousands of different biblical passages. Additionally, we have annotated more than 20 important secondary sources like the Amarna Letters, the Context of Scripture, Dead Sea Scrolls, Philo, Josephus, etc. (millions of words in total) with the same concepts. This links biblical passages to relevant examples from the historical context of the Bible. These resources are integrated for search, reading, and study as part of Logos Bible Software's digital library for biblical studies. This new and unique resource can be used in classroom teaching to aid understanding the scope and structure of cultural practices across the biblical text and other ANE literature. For example, a discussion on "interpersonal relations" could begin in a top-down fashion by displaying and defining more specific concepts in the hierarchy (age roles, family relationships, tribal relationships, inter-ethnic relations, etc.). This could be followed by drilling into biblical examples of a particular concept like "age roles" and discussing their significance in a bottom-up fashion, then broadening into other examples in Philo or Josephus. After demonstrating this process, students could then work on their own to explore the secondary literature on another concept under interpersonal relationships, and comment on the related texts. This presentation will demonstrate how the Cultural Ontology in Logos Bible Software could be used in a classroom setting to: * find relevant cultural concepts for a biblical text * discover other examples (both in biblical and secondary texts) of the same concepts * find reference information to help understand more about the cultural concepts * show the relationships between concepts (more general or specific, or domain relationships like ), other topics in biblical studies, and lexical senses of specific terms [OCM]: http://hraf.yale.edu/online-databases/ehraf-world-cultures/outline-of-cultural-materials/

A common prop in espionage thrillers is the hideaway where the agent keeps multiple passports under different names for any needed quick identity-change. The authorial voice in Qohelet offers an equally slippery identity which has always challenged readers. In conversation with Brennan Breed's new study on reception history (2014) this paper discusses a variety of the partially revealed and constructed identities in Qohelet.

Among prefatory writings in the scriptures and parascriptures of the peoples of Ancient Israel and Judah, the translator's prologue to the book of Sirach has probably been studied more than any other. Frequently, research has focused upon the process of scripturalization/canonization, or alternatively upon the attitude toward translation displayed in the text. This paper sets out where these previous directions of research have ended by focusing on the prologue's ideas concerning the relationship between the translation of Sirach and the texts of ancient Israel. The paper will argue that the author of the prologue understands his work to be a link in a chain of "auxiliary texts" extending from the Torah through the work of his ostensible grandfather Ben Sira. In order to prove its thesis the paper will place the prologue to Sirach in the context of a genre of prefatory writings most extensively investigated by classicist Markus Dubischar, which introduce what Dubischar has termed "auxiliary texts", building upon Wienold's idea of Verarbeitungstext and Foucault's idea of texte second. Dubischar observes that these auxiliary texts are meant to preserve a valued tradition by correcting problems encountered throughout the process of transmission. This paper will show that the translator's prologue understands the Greek Sirach to be just such a text, and further sees the other texts within Israel's literary tradition in a similar vein.

This paper will explore the possibility of “iconographic illiteracy” in the Hebrew Bible. Several observations have been made in iconographic studies and related literary studies: 1) There is evidence that the biblical writers share much of the larger conceptual world of the ancient Near East, as reflected in the many iconographic studies that seek to illuminate biblical texts with close readings of iconographic materials in their historical context, and 2) There is evidence for possible re-writings of ancient Near Eastern myths that offer uniquely Israelite interpretations, and may even offer anti-Mesopotamian / Egyptian interpretations (e.g. Genesis 1-3). Both of these assume iconographic/mythic “literacy” of the biblical writer. An additional observation that I would like to explore with this paper is evidence for “iconographic illiteracy” in some biblical texts. I will discuss examples (as time allows) of biblical texts that fill foreign iconographic "constellations" with new content. One example is the so-called "Adam and Eve" seal. It is clear that 19th century scholars were iconographically illiterate when they suggested that Mesopotamia had an “Adam and Eve” myth based on the almost identical constellations of the Mesopotamian image and biblical narrative. Is it possible that the composer of Genesis 2-3 was similarly illiterate, being exposed to the visual motif of the “Adam and Eve seal,” but oblivious to its native conceptual context? A few factors will certainly arise. First, there is the historical matter of what foreign images could have been widely known in Israel, and therefore have reasonable odds of inspiring the biblical author, detached from any awareness of the image's conceptual context. Second, how would one determine “iconographic illiteracy” rather than the intentional re-writings described above? Answering this question will require close readings of both the text and the visual data. For example, interpreters of the biblical Adam and Eve narrative have often been puzzled by the role of the tree of life in Genesis 2-3. It both introduces and concludes the narrative, yet the central portion of the narrative with its singular focus on the tree of knowledge leaves many commentators with the impression that the inner narrative thinks there is only one tree. An iconographic interpretation is aware of the images available to the author of Genesis 2-3, offering the possible explanation that the tree of knowledge narrative was inspired by the visual Mesopotamian motif that has only one tree. Space restrictions for this proposal prohibit a fuller discussion, but a second possible text to be discussed in the paper is what I call the “death shepherd” in Psalm 49, which may be a similar iconographically illiterate interpretation of Egyptian Osiris iconography. I am currently a PhD candidate, and this paper could fit both the text/image interface in a unique way and the PhD dissertation section. As of now, this topic has not been developed into a formal dissertation proposal, but may be by the end of the summer. Thank you for considering my paper.

Scholars in biblical studies and theology have long been interested in God as a parental figure (father and/or mother). Remarkably, this research has not been informed by attachment theory. Attachment theory is well-established scientific theory that describes the child-parent relationship across multiple species that is thoroughly integrated into evolutionary theory and provides an excellent example of evolutionary psychology. Many species have an innate attachment system, or set of behaviors that facilitate the survival of the young through parental caregiving. Attachment theory has been expanded to describe the human-divine relationship within the psychology of religion (e.g., Lee A. Kirkpatrick, Attachment, Evolution, and the Psychology of Religion), but these insights have not yet been applied to biblical studies. The present paper will briefly describe attachment theory and its role in the psychology of religion, then illustrate how these insights can be applied to reading ancient texts. Prior research on deities as parents has been limited to texts in which explicit parental imagery appears and has ignored attachment theory in favor of no theory or poor theory (e.g., Freud’s ‘oral fixation’). However, the dynamics of child-parent relationship are thoroughly described by attachment theory and these dynamics are present beyond the narrow limits of explicit parental imagery. The paper will focus on method and how attachment theory illuminates the relational dynamics encoded in Hebrew and Akkadian prayers and prophetic texts and how these texts speak about relationship with deities. The paper will include attentiveness to gender. In Akkadian and Hebrew, deities may be described as paternal or maternal independent of their gender (e.g., Shamash as mother, Ishtar as father). However, child-parent dynamics persist across gender lines because the attachment system in humans informs how people think about and relate to deities.

This paper examines the role invention played in the development of John Muir’s ecological hermeneutic, and its continued applicability in our technological economy. The son of a Campbellite frontiersman, Muir grew up clearing land and growing crops and learned from an early age how poor agricultural practices impoverished both land and laborer. He was also a gifted inventor, finding success early in his career increasing efficiency and improving productivity in large machine shops. After a factory accident nearly left him blind, however, Muir experienced a “conversion.” Declining a position as a partner of the shop, Muir “bade adieu to all [his] mechanical inventions, determined to devote the rest of [his] life to the study of the inventions of God.” Muir’s repentance from technological invention and subsequent turn toward the beholding of the divine inventions of nature represent both a pivotal moment in his life and a hermeneutical imprint on Muir’s meditations on nature. After his conversion experience, Muir’s latent suspicions toward anthropocentric understandings of nature and his growing identification with the Earth and the non-human world cast a shadow over his writings and letters. Muir’s use of Scripture is anchored in principles of suspicion, identification, and retrieval to develop his “Godful” ecological hermeneutic. Muir wants to correct the impoverishment of the mechanical and rediscover the wonder of divine invention. This identification is most clearly on display through his use of Scripture in the description of and reflection upon natural phenomena. Finally, through Muir’s retrieval of “Godful” ecology the impoverishment of the non-human world is understood as the result of a previous impoverishment – that of human invention dulling the senses of humanity. Human invention is doubly impoverishing, starving our bodies of the “pure air” through which we were made to thrive, and perhaps more important for Muir, desecrating the holy temple of divine invention. Through Muir’s life and writings the contrast between human and divine invention play a critical role in the principles of suspicion, identification, and retrieval clearly present in the development of his “Godful” ecological hermeneutic.

In New Testament studies, as well as in discussions of Jewish apocalyptic discourse, distinctions exist between apocalyptic, apocalypticism, and apocalyptic eschatology. Apocalyptic is generally used to denote a type of literature, apocalypticism refers to a pattern of thought or movement which endorses the “conceptual structure” of apocalypses, and apocalyptic eschatology emphasizes the end of history. Apocalyptic literature itself has been designated as “crisis literature” and as a “form of protest against society.” Although the New Testament contains only one example of the apocalypse genre, i.e. Revelation, it is commonly recognized that an apocalyptic worldview permeates the New Testament documents. This paper will explore Martin Luther King’s use of apocalyptic in his sermons and writings. It will, therefore, examine his relationship to the various distinctions mentioned above and analyze whether or not these distinctions hold for his exegetical and hermeneutical lenses. In addition, this paper will investigate how King uses apocalyptic imagery and language to depict the crisis of the African American in the United States and to protest the status quo.

Pinkhos Churgin argued over a hundred years ago that Tg. Isa. 10:32 has a midrashic addition based on b. Sanh. 95b. More recently, Leivy Smolar and Moses Aberbach have argued that Sennacherib in this addition is framed in the Targumic account, if not also in the Sanhedrin material, in a manner evoking Titus and his attack on Jerusalem. These studies have shown that there are many peculiarities concerning the addition in the Targum. In fact, this addition itself has many versions, at least one of which, mentioning Abraham, was based on the Targum Yerushalmi as seen in Codex Reuchlianus and has been examined by Bruce Chilton. While many of the variations in details are minor between these two texts and while their relationship to each other remains unclear, the framing of the reference to Abraham in the Targumic addition differs from that in b. Sanh. 95b, a difference that has gone unexplored and yet is significant. In this paper, I review the evidence for seeing the story of Sennacherib in Tg. Isa. 10:32 and b. Sanh. 95b in light of Titus and the Roman attack against Jerusalem. Further, I explore the additional material regarding Abraham in Tg. Isa. 10:32 as present in manuscript B. M. 2211 and Codex Reuchlianus on the basis of this implicit reference to Titus. This information in the Targumic material creates an allusion to another nefarious king, Nimrod. The significance of Nimrod in this context is heightened by the connection between the death of Nimrod and the death of Titus in b. Gi?. 56b. This examination, therefore, adds another basis through an intertextual link for reading this common midrashic material in light of Titus and the Roman attack on Jerusalem. By making reference to the story of Abraham and the fiery furnace in Tg. Isa. 10:32 in B. M. 2211 and in Codex Reuchlianus, the Targumic story not only positions Sennacherib, Nimrod, and Titus as archetypal evil kings, but also calls to mind their inevitable destruction in eschatological terms through evoking Gog and Magog.

When I began blogging over 12 years ago I initially tried to create a focused blog, two actually, one for my university administrative related posts and the other for biblical and rabbinic studies posts. (I even briefly had an anonymous blog, but abandoned that rather quickly.) While I still maintain a “work” blog as dean of our college, within a year “Targuman” became a blog that was more eclectic. I wrote then that I had decided “to simply post that which is of interest to me. Sometimes scholarly and theological at other times Mac related or political. Who knows?” Now as I look back over a dozen years much has happened: the birth of our son, Katrina, a major shift in my career and location, ordination(s), and the death of our son. Along the way I have published over 2,800 posts ranging from SBL announcements to comics to technology podcasts to text criticism and theological musings. In this session I would like to reflect on the development of a very personal blog, the impact of this virtual community on my own growth academically and theologically, and the importance of transparency in maintaining an online presence.

Drama teaches biblical texts, I have found. Some of my most successful teaching sessions in introductory, undergraduate Old Testament classes have involved direct student involvement. I have written several plays that engage the students dramatically. One concerns Genesis 3, the chapter taking place in the Garden of Eden and known to Christians as The Fall. Using the NIV text verbatim, I have broken down the chapter to six speaking parts and numerous silent ones. The speaking parts include the narrator, the Lord God, the walking serpent, the woman, and the man. The sixth part reads my italicized directions for blocking and emotions. Non-speaking parts include the plants used for covering; the tree of knowledge of good and evil; the tree of life; the animals that present themselves for slaughter; the cherubim; and the flaming sword. The entire class—often 30 students—is engaged. The non-speaking parts have plenty of personality; for example the trees flap their leaves, and the animals come willingly to the Lord God to be killed. A favorite episode is when the Lord God curses the serpent and it falls to its belly and slithers away between the plants. A flaming sword flashes around at the end, closing the show. I group those students left without a speaking or acting part in a loose category called wind and bird sounds. These sounds herald joy, concern, warning, sorrow, and other emotions associated with the chapter; students enjoy whistling, puffing, moaning, and chirping. The drama and discussion questions take a class period. The students are invited to act out their parts according to their own interpretations. A memorable dog once jumped into the Lord God’s arms! The class session, although different with each group, always combines much laughter and a sober reflection on what humankind has lost. Pausing on the text and requiring physical involvement in it enable the students to remember it. This paper will demonstrate the teaching tool of dramatization by using Genesis 3. Surely the Bible presents a plethora of Old Testament and New Testament passages inviting similar dramatic re-enactments and encouraging imagination within the bounds of the text.

(Re)Signifying Creation: Viewpoint in Job as a Basis for a Christian Environmental Ethics

No abstract is provided for the presidential address.

The ethnocentric tendencies in Ezra-Nehemiah have been frequently condemned in biblical scholarship, even in studies that present themselves as generally descriptive and historical in scope. Postcolonial studies, on the other hand, have sometimes defended the legitimacy of defensive social postures among minority and subaltern groups when their cultural survival is at stake. In conversation with the work of Tamara Cohn Eskenazi and Daniel Smith-Christopher, this paper explores the issues from a postcolonial perspective, and asks whether native administrators in Yehud adopted the rhetoric of imperial authorization in defending an ethnocentrism “from below,” and/or whether their nativism created new social divisions within the Yahwist polities at the time.

This paper uses Hans Frei's famous image of the "eclipse" of biblical narrative to explore the question of how far it is true that we either do (or do not) need to situate the book historically in order to grasp its theological point(s). While historical-critical discernment plays an inevitable part in any disciplined imaginative engagement with the text, the difference this makes to theological reading varies from case to case according to the ways in which specific texts interact with history. A range of such cases is considered, including attention to the unusual complexities of Daniel 11's complicated relationship to what did and did not happen to Antiochus Epiphanes.

to be supplied later

Discussions of James customarily begin with Luther’s indication that James is an “Epistle of Straw.” The image of the reformer tormented by works-based righteousness and his anti-Pauline reading of James are well noted and oft-rehearsed. Many interpret Luther’s sharp quotes in his preface to the New Testament as reflective of reformer’s disdain of works-based righteousness, which is among his favorite polemics. The tendency to focus on these components of Luther’s thought and writing fail to take into account his understanding of the Christian in society, particularly as revealed in Luther’s sermons, in which we find his thought is not as opposed to James as we – or perhaps he – thought. It is here we find that Luther’s biblical interpretation in his “Preface to the New Testament” diverges from his hermeneutics in preaching. Whereas Luther’s emphasis and polemics on “justification by faith alone through grace apart from works of the law” are myriad, Luther’s sermons and concern for the Christian in society echo the words of James. By focusing on Luther’s quote from his “Preface to the New Testament,” scholarship has overlooked some key convergences in Luther and James’ thought and the ways in which Luther’s homiletics mitigate – or perhaps challenge – his indications of James’ role within the New Testament canon. This paper will place James and Luther into conversation, considering the ways in which their thoughts cohere with one another despite the assertion that James is a “Gospel of Straw.” This presents a problem both for those who might want to ascribe to Luther an antinomian or anti-works position and those who might want to hold that Luther thought that faith – by itself – is an indication of reception of the Gospel and Christ.

Mark contains material of different ages. It treats the Gentile Mission as both an irrelevance (The Syrophoenician Woman, Mk 7:24-31) and as a prerequisite for the Last Days (Mk 13:10). It treats Jesus as both a healer (The Leper, Mk 1:40-45) and as God (the forgiving of sins, Mk 2:5-10). Why? Either Mark was combined on one occasion from diverse material, or it was compiled over a period of time, and continually updated itself by adding material to reflect the latest ideas about Jesus (his increasing divinization) and the continually receding date of the Return. The latter can be shown to be the case, since the more advanced passages show the standard signs of interpolation. Then Mark is not an integral, but an accretional text. If so, then its earlier layers were available to its later layers as literary sources capable of further development. I here note three examples of seeming internal development: (1) TheWoman with a Flow of Blood (Mk 5:24-34, a development of Mk 6:56); (2) The Feeding of Four Thousand (Mk 8:1-9, a development of the Five Thousand in Mk 6:34-44), and (3) The Ambition of James and John (Mk 10:35-44, a development of the anonymous dispute over priority in Mk 9:33-34). It is easily shown that in each case, the more developed form is an interpolation. The third has the further advantage that, as a prophecy ex eventu, its terminus a quo is the year 44. This gives us one firm date within the span over which Mark was composed, and that date correlates well with references to Paul in Mark, the fact (Koester Ancient Christian Gospels, 52f) that much of Paul’s knowledge of early Christian tradition seems to come from Mark, and with everything Acts tells us about the real life relation between Mark and Paul. Clarification of the nature of Mark thus helps us locate it within the chronology of Christian writings, a chronology in which Mark, or its earliest layers, seem to occupy the very first place.

This paper will investigate why the meturgeman intentionally added the word “Messiah” to Isaiah Targum Jonathan (ITJ) 4:2, 9:5, 10:27, 11:1, 11:6, 14:29, 16:1, 16:5, 28:5, 43:10, 52:13, and 53:10. The thesis of this paper is that the insertion of “Messiah of YWY” originated in ITJ 4:2 as a literal interpretation for the metaphorical use of “branch of YHWH” in Isa 4:2 of the MT. Once this interpretive move was made a series of interpretive decisions in the proceeding verses followed. We can track and chart the relationship between all of these verses in this order: 4:2; 11:1; 14:29; (9:5, 16:1, 16:5, 28:5); 10:27; 43:10; (52:13, 53:10); and 11:6. Isaiah 4:2, 11:1, and 14:29 are linked by the Hebrew words “branch,” “branch”, and “root.” The meturgeman then interpreted “staff” in 14:29 to metaphorically mean “ruler”. Isaiah 9:5, 16:1, 16:5, and 28:5 are all linked thematically with Isa 14:29 because of their use of “prince of peace,” “ruler of the land,” “judge,” and “crown of beauty and a diadem of glory” respectively. Together, these first seven verses congeal an understanding of Messiah as eschatological leader. The meturgeman then returned to Isa 10:27, having seen in this verse a perfect consolidation of eschatological messianic power. The victory of the Messiah then became, in the mind of the meturgeman, the validating witness to the eternal sovereignty of God in Isa 43:10. Therefore, the Messiah naturally fills the role of “my Servant” in Isa 43:10, 52:13, and 53:10. The only remaining verse is Isa 11:6. It is difficult to know where to place this verse in this overall schematic and it seems at first that this one verse might sink the entire hypothesis. However, the theme of ITJ 52:13 and 53:10 is the prosperity of the Messiah and the prosperity of those who will see the kingdom of their Messiah. Isaiah 11:6 captures this theme by illustrating what this prosperity will be like.

Jonah 2:3-10 was not only transmitted in Minor Prophets manuscripts in the Ethiopic manuscript tradition. This passage also was copied as the Seventh Biblical Canticle within the Ethiopic Psalter. For this study, we have transcribed more than 60 transcriptions of the canticle from codices that span the extant manuscript tradition and we will employ these to examine the textual development of the Prayer of Jonah across the centuries. We will identify manuscript families and their date ranges. We will then compare the textual history of the Seventh Biblical Canticle with the development of the text within Old Testament manuscripts. We will utilize the fifty manuscripts of Jonah that have been transcribed for the Textual History of the Ethiopic Old Testament Project and examine if similar revisions and alterations occurred in both the Psalters and the Minor Prophet manuscripts. We will also consider possible influence from the Psalter upon later revisions of the Minor Prophets. Lastly, we will compare the data from the Ethiopic manuscripts with the canticles tradition in Syriac and Arabic.

Asia Minor is likely the formative center for Johannine Christianity in the decades following the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem in 70 CE. Traditionally, Ephesus has been identified as the locus of its developing social and religious life and relationships in this new diaspora setting. Although the Johannine community would have sought fellowship in the Jewish synagogue, they also would have found themselves in dialogue and, soon, conflict with these same kinspeople about not only their belief in Jesus as Messiah but also their developing high Christology. This same sort of good news would not have been a problem in the nascent Gentile churches of the region. This distancing from mainstream traditional Judaism and simultaneous pull toward the Hellenistic Gentile mission through the shared memory of Jesus who is the messiah who is both divine and human is a strong undercurrent of the Gospel of John. This paper explores how this undercurrent rises to the surface in the Fourth Evangelist’s shaping of traditions about Jesus’s actions and teaching on the Sabbath. The sign and discourse of John 5 focus on the feast of the Sabbath and John’s understanding of Jesus’ authority to work as God works on the Sabbath. The Evangelist’s composition of the sign, the ensuing trial process, and Jesus’ response in John 9 is more subtle: the spotlight shines elsewhere—on the response of those he encounters to Jesus—yet he is careful to set the entirety of the scene on the Sabbath. John and his community live in this memory of the Jewish Messiah and his revelation of God on the Sabbath, but, like Jesus before them, find themselves at odds with their own people, now in the diaspora. The implications of this marginalization through belief in the Word of God in Jesus are far reaching for both the Johannine community and developing Christianity.

Literary critics dispute the integrity of Leviticus 8-9, not only on synchronic but also on diachronic grounds. While it is widely recognized that Leviticus 8 reports the seven-day ordination of Aaron and his sons as priests in the newly established Tabernacle, rites commanded (Exodus 29) along with the instructions for the Tabernacle's manufacture and assembly (Exodus 25-31), at least three points lead to diverging analyses: (1) the contents of Leviticus 8 do not all match Exodus 29 but incorporate material that corresponds also to Exodus 40, (2) the sometimes exact, sometimes varied repetition of the formula "as Yhvh commanded (Moses)" can be found seven times (or more, depending on the counting and the textual witnesses), suggesting a literary structure in Leviticus 8, and (3) there are questions about the relationship of Leviticus 8 to Leviticus 9, which describes the "eighth day" not explicitly so called in Exodus 29 in which Aaron and his sons also perform some of the rituals of Leviticus 1-7 and at least two more exact iterations of the fulfillment formula appear. Curiously, on this last point, the relationship of Leviticus 9 to 8, the report of the first truly Aaronid priestly sacrifices concludes with the appearance of divine fire, just as Exodus 29 promises a theophany in the regular ministration of the fully-functioning, legitimately staffed cultus. (a) Setting aside the anointing of the sancta in Leviticus 8 that recalls Exodus 40, not Exodus 29, and (b) considering that the repertoire of sacrifices in Leviticus 9 incorporates more elaborate instructions from Leviticus 1-7 just where Exodus 29 would have required only the daily sacrifices, Leviticus 8-9 taken together serve as a more complete report of the execution of the commands in Exodus 29 than is often recognized. The aim of the commands (Exodus 29) and their execution (Leviticus 8-9) alike is not merely the seven-day ordination of the priests and purification of the altar, but a fully functioning, legitimately staffed cultus as the means by which the divine presence is manifest to Israel. Not only content, but structure of Lev 8-9 may retain more integrity than often recognized: across MT Lev 8-9 there are seven exact repetitions of the fulfillment formula ("as Yhvh commanded Moses"). There are also seven inexact repetitions of it that cluster together at the end of Leviticus 8 and the beginning of Leviticus 9--that is, between the first five and the last two exact iterations. This disruption in the form corresponds to the point where Moses fully transfers authority for the priesthood to Aaron. Do these observations justify reading Leviticus 8-9 as a unit? The claim becomes more convincing when compared to the structure of Exodus 35-39 in the LXX and its Hebrew Vorlage. There the manufacture of the Tabernacle subdivides into seven sections, each marked by a variation of the fulfillment formula. After the second, thus at the beginning of the next five, comes a section with seven exact iterations: these mark the making of the priestly vestments, commanded in Exodus 28 (and introduced by 28:1 as if they were part of the inauguration of the priestly service, rather than the manufacture of the sancta). Thus in LXX Exodus 35-39 the division 2/5 with seven exact iterations within seven inexact is the inverse of the structure of Leviticus 8-9, with its division 5/2 with seven variations within seven exact iterations. The point of division in LXX Exodus' report of the manufacture also comes at the point where Moses transfers authority for the manufacture of the Mishkan to Bezalel and Oholiab and their workshop, just as the division in Leviticus' report of the inauguration comes at the point where Moses transfers authority for the priestly service of the Mishkan to the Aaronid priesthood at the conclusion of their seven-day inauguration/ordination. Moreover the cluster of exact repetitions of the formulae within Exodus concerns the making of the priestly garments (per Exodus 28), just as the exact repetition throughout Leviticus 8-9 concerns the inauguration of the Mishkan's priestly service (per Exodus 29). This exact repetition distinguishes the execution of the instructions for the operation of the Mishkan (Exodus 28-29, as set off by Exod 28:1) from the execution of instructions for its manufacture (in Exodus 25-27, 30-31). Thus the Hebrew text translated by LXX Exodus 35-40 helps identify a skillful and intricate literary pattern in the execution report of the manufacture-and-inauguration of the Mishkan that spans (LXX*) Exodus 35-39 (manufacture) and Lev 8-9 (inauguration); these two sections are (or were?) two symmetrical halves of a single execution report that corresponds to the commands for manufacture (Exodus 25-27) and inauguration (28-29) of the Mishkan (followed by 30-31). This structure is summarized even better, not coincidentally, by the Hebrew underlying LXX Exod 25:7 than MT 25:8: "Make me a sanctuary

This presentation focuses on the reception history of Daniel 7 in early Christian literature and later Byzantine hymnography. Two broad strands of interpretation—Christological and Trinitarian—can be discerned in this material. The same holds true for the reception history of the Song of the Three Youths and of theophanic texts such as Genesis 18, Isaiah 6, and Habakkuk 3:2, all of which patristic exegesis often connects with Daniel 7. My paper proposes (1) a survey of the exegetical, doctrinal, and hymnographic productions illustrating the rich reception history of Daniel 7 in early Christianity; (2) an attempt at categorizing this material; and (3), finally, a discussion of the ways in which today’s interpreters can make sense of this multi-layered exegetical tradition, characterized by diverse modes of symbolization and diverse ways of appropriating the Hebrew Bible as Christian Scripture.

In his defense of Egyptian theurgy, The Response of Abammon to Porphyry (De mysteriis), Iamblichus provides an account of creation that he attributes to the Egyptian Hermes. In this cosmogony the first principle is the pre-noetic Kmeph, who conceives himself as the noetic Ikton. From this first nous derives the demiurgic nous, which is called Ammon, Ptah or Osiris according to its activities, and the demiurge derives matter from materiality, which has been separated from God’s essentiality. This emanatory protology bears strong structural similarities with that found in the Poimandres, where the myth of creation is presented as a revelation. Here the enigmatic figure Poimandres is seen as the primal, luminous nous of authentia, “the sovereign power,” and a second, demiurgic nous derives the elements from dark and moist Nature, which has broken away from the first luminous nous. A third Hermetic account of creation can be found in a Greco-Egyptian magical papyrus, the so-called Leiden kosmopoiia (PGM XIII), where God laughs the universe into being in seven consecutive laughs. Especially the hypostases that result from the first four laughs correspond to the scheme of creation found in Iamblichus and the Poimandres. The present contribution aims to demonstrate the common dependence of these Hermetic accounts of creation on a Neopythagorean numerological scheme, possibly from the Pythagorean Hypomnemata, known from the first century BCE, or a similar source. However, we shall also see that the protologies of Iamblichus and the Leiden kosmopoiia substantially correspond respectively to Roman-era inscriptions found in the temples of the god Amun in Thebes and the goddess Neith in Esna. This supports the hypothesis that there was a real connection between Hermetism and the Egyptian temples, and that the Egyptian elements in the Hermetica were not merely orientalizing décor, as earlier scholarship would have it.

Over the centuries, New Testament textual criticism has often been operating in the dark, relying on outdated apparatuses that only display a limited number of variants, cite a limited number of witnesses, lack the context of where manuscripts start and stop, conceal the state of the manuscripts’ conditions, do not distinguish between the importance of witnesses, and on top of that, they contain errors! The Center for New Testament Restoration (CNTR) attempts to address these concerns by providing all known references to the Greek New Testament on extant manuscripts dated before 400 AD. In addition to the major continuous texts, a second category containing quotations, amulets, inscriptions, etc. has also been included. Individual electronic transcriptions of each manuscript have been made, along with a complete collation showing the word-by-word alignment. Associated metadata including the description, contents, date, provenance, location, and publication has also been collected for each artifact. This corpus of data is significant because it reveals the most complete picture of the early New Testament sources to the general public and enables new types of advanced statistical data analysis, including the algorithmic computer generation of a base text. This data is currently hosted on the CNTR website and will be made available for free download using the TEI XML format.

The present paper addresses the question of whether Mark’s Jesus is in some sense divine or identified with God. Interpreters of Mark’s gospel commonly see Mark as representing a “low” christology, in which Jesus is a human being, not a divine being. This perspective, however, continues to be challenged by interpreters who find in Mark a “high” christology, in which Jesus is a divine being or in some way identified with God. The present paper examines this issue. It supports the thesis that Mark’s Jesus is a human being to whom God grants divine power and prerogatives. It supports this thesis by paying attention not only to the narrative world of Mark’s gospel but also to its cultural and religious context in Second-Temple Judaism, the Greco-Roman world, and early Christianity. The examination proceeds diachronically in the order of Mark’s narrative, so that Mark’s christology is unfolded in the order in which Mark presents it as well as the order in which a reader encounters it. In the process, the paper examines aspects of the story in which some interpreters have found Jesus identified with God--such as Jesus’ claim to forgive sins, his ability to calm a storm, and his power to raise the dead--and it finds this identification unjustified. It concludes that two moments in Jesus’ story are key for understanding his relation to God. The first is his baptism, at which he receives the Spirit of God. This event must be understood in the context of Jewish traditions about the Messiah and early Christian traditions about baptism. At this point, the man Jesus is anointed as the Messiah, adopted as God’s son, and imbued with the power and prerogatives of God. The second is his ascension, at which he sits at the right hand of God. This event must be understood in the context of Greco-Roman traditions concerning apotheosis. At this point, God bestows on Jesus a place of authority in the divine realm and shares with him his own name. In Mark’s christology, a god does not become a man, but a man becomes a god.

The “two swords” passage of Luke 22:35-38 has plagued interpreters for centuries. Scholars have attempted to explain this passage by suggesting that Jesus was either not speaking literally of buying swords, alluding to future persecution of the disciples, preparing them for bandits along the way, preparing them for the time of trial to come when he is gone, etc. Many of these interpretive positions seem to be out of step from Luke’s narrative portrayal of the mission and ethic of Jesus and his disciples. In recent scholarship the dominant approaches to solving the interpretative issues associated with this enigmatic text have tended to focus myopically on the pericope itself apart from a thorough treatment of passage within its narrative context. This study will provide an explanation of Jesus’ command to buy a sword within the immediate context of the narrative as a prophetic announcement of the disciples’ denial in the same way he announces Peter’s denial in the previous section. This will be demonstrated in two ways: 1) arguing for Luke’s positioning of the unique “two swords” pericope (Lk 22:35-38) within a wider chiastic structure of Lk 22:31-62 and 2) demonstrating that in Luke’s employment of Isaiah 53:12 in the immediate narrative context, he understands the transgressors that Jesus is to be counted with are not the criminals that he is crucified next to, as traditionally understood, but with his disciples who brandish the sword. This reading is consistent with the non-violent martyrological ethic of the Jesus movement in Luke-Acts and has profound implications for early Christian ethics in the context of Roman imperial domination in the first-century as well as for contemporary Christian ethics today.

Among the most difficult—and fascinating—of the Nag Hammadi texts is the Paraphrase of Shem (NHC VII,1). Particularly mysterious are its opening pages, which describe the repeated descents and ascents of a savior-figure, who liberates spiritual light from the darkness with which it was once mixed. This liberation is described as, among other things, a series of obscure reactions between light, darkness, fire, heat, and weight—images whose meaning and motivation have yet to be explained by modern research. This paper seeks to demonstrate that the metaphors used in this and other parts of NHC VII,1 derive from the contemporary metallurgical practice of tincturing, a practice which occupied a central role in the development of Greco-Egyptian alchemy. The talk will also address the greater question of framing research into Gnosticism, alchemy, Egyptian magic, and esotericism.

A number of ancient Roman authors expressed the belief that Jews fasted on the Sabbath day. Modern commentators have yet to offer a convincing explanation of this apparent misconception. Most have simply attributed it to ignorance. Some have inferred confusion with the traditional prohibition against cooking on the Sabbath. Others have posited that Roman Jews actually did fast on the Sabbath. Assessing the empirical advantages and disadvantages of these theories, I propose an alternative explanation. Specifically, I contend that the belief that Jews did not eat on the Sabbath was born of the fact that Jews did not shop for food on the Sabbath. At a time when most food was prepared for consumption on the day of its purchase, the weekly disappearance of Jews from the Roman marketplace signaled to observers outside their community their abstinence from eating. I therefore conclude that the perception that Jews routinely fasted on the Sabbath, though likely mistaken, was the result of a benign cultural misunderstanding. I shall base my thesis on two arguments: 1) Roman Jews, like other Jews, avoided conducting financial transactions on the Sabbath, 2) Roman Jews, like other Romans, normally obtained their foodstuffs from vendors in the macellum, or market, where they would have interacted with non-Jews as a matter of course. My evidence for the former will draw upon comments by Philo (Legat. 158) and Josephus (Ant. 16.163, 168), among other data drawn from the Old and New Testaments and rabbinic literature. My evidence for the latter draw upon the treatment of Claire Holleran, Shopping in Ancient Rome (2012), with data specific to Jewish participation in Roman marketplace culture culled from a catacomb inscription (ILS 9432).

The blessedness inherent in holy places, in the bodies of holy men, and in the relics of their bodies, was understood in late antiquity as a portable commodity that could be moved from place to place via physical contact, as we see for example in the phenomenon of pilgrims’ eulogiai. This portability of blessedness was even transferable to new spaces through a relic sacralizing the space of its new resting place, physically separated from the original holy man, shrine, or even the original relic. In sanctifying spaces, the placement of relics could be used not only to add holiness to an otherwise neutral space, but also to symbolically (and, in all likelihood, literally in the minds of many late ancient observers) cleanse a space perceived to contain a pagan or heretical past. For example, the first attested translatio of relics—the movement of a Decian-era martyr named Babylas from Antioch to a sanctuary in the Antiochene suburb of Daphne—is associated with the repelling from Daphne of a previously powerful oracle of Apollo. The placement of relics became a mandated component of church dedications at the Second Council of Nicaea in 787 and the Venerable Bede’s eighth-century Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum cites a letter from Pope Gregory the Great describing the installation of relics as an official part of the ritual process for converting pagan temples into Christian church spaces. In these descriptions, the installation of holy water, altars, and relics serves to symbolically remove the pagan past and to repurpose such spaces for Christian usage. This paper will examine a similar ritual for the conversion of religious space described in an early Islamic hadith that deals with the conversion of Jewish/Christian biya’ (“churches, prayer spaces”) into Muslim masajid (mosques). Specifically, this hadith narrates the usage of an Islamic contact relic—the Prophet Muhammad’s used ablution water—for the cleansing and repurposing of heterodox religious space, a Christian prayer space. This “Islamification” of religious space displays an interest in using religiously powerful objects for the transformation of space similar to what see in the “Christianization” of pagan temples through saints’ relics. Like Christian relics, divided and translated to new spaces for the sanctification of new spaces, Muhammad’s used ablution water offers a transportable embodiment of his authority to be brought to a distant location for the establishment of a new Muslim religious space. Instead of a Christian martyr’s relic sanctifying a church, a contact relic from the Muslim prophet allows this religious space to become a masjid. Christian space becomes Islamic space through the presence of a specifically Islamic relic and Mu?ammad’s body itself serves as a boundary marker, distinguishing Christian from Muslim space and identity.

The category of Scripture cannot be limited to authoritative writings, but must also incorporate the conventional hermeneutical practices uniquely (at least in degree) associated with the writings that these practices, in fact, canonize: a combination of exhaustive editorial activity, consistently rehabilitative interpretation, frequent literary transposition into innovative contexts, etc. By this account, Homeric epic is no less “scriptural” than the Hebrew Bible in Greco-Roman antiquity—for polytheists, especially, but in a sense, for Christians and Jews as well. Dennis MacDonald’s analysis of New Testament narrative’s employment of Homer in its own way confirms this observation, challenging biblical scholars to work with a broader understanding of canonically authoritative writings than they normally employ. I embrace that challenge by arguing that early Christians acknowledged and negotiated Homeric epic’s status as Scripture in various ways—not merely by rewriting Homer, as MacDonald demonstrates, but also by adopting conventional strategies for interpreting Homeric myth to the interpretation of the Hebrew Bible. As a case study, I will demonstrate that Gnostic interpretations of Genesis, which have long troubled scholars of ancient Christianity, quite straightforwardly adapt interpretive models from Second-Sophistic readings of Homer. Analogously, I will argue that certain Second-Sophistic readings of Homer adopt models from early Christian interpretations of the Gospels. My study ultimately suggests that scholars of the New Testament and early Christianity would be better served by acknowledging that the category of “Scripture” was more fluid and porous in antiquity than today, and that it as frequently served strategies of religious appropriation as it did those of religious exclusion.

Ernest Bormann (1972) has analyzed the phenomenon of group communication by means of Robert Bales’ account of the dynamic process of group fantasizing. Bales’ research provides an account of how dramatizing communication creates social reality for people. Analysis of these group fantasies provides insight into the group’s culture, motivation, emotional style, and cohesion. While we do not have access to the audience reaction of Ezra or Nehemiah’s provocative public prayers, we do possess the tools to analyze the respective fantasy themes of each presentation. These are the themes of language that, once accepted by the group, become self-perpetuating, characterizing the drama which the group understands itself to be enacting. In my paper I identify and analyze at least four fantasy themes present in the penitential prayers of Ezra-Nehemiah: 1) the chosenness of the community; 2) the promise of land; 3) divine provision in times of difficulty; 4) obedience to divine commandments. The speakers of the prayer effectively provide a motivation for the community to get on the bandwagon, to “chain out” on the Deuteronomic fantasy. The result is just such a commitment, as demonstrated in Nehemiah 9: “Because of all this we make a firm covenant in writing; on the sealed document are the names of our princes, our Levites, and our priests” (Neh 9:38).

Symbolic Blackness and Ethnic Difference in Early Christian Literature was one of several books published during the first decade of the twenty-first century charting a new direction in New Testament interpretation that foregrounded questions of ethnic identity, literary theory, rhetorical strategy, and theological meaning. Whether scholars called it “ethno-political rhetoric” or “ethnic reasoning” or color-coded language,” there was consensus that ethnicity matters and reading for ethnicity opened a new window onto the world of the early Christians. While Paul claims there is “no Jew or Greek,” Luke and several of his contemporaries demonstrate in their writings that Judeans, Egyptians, Ethiopians, Canaanites, Cretans, and other ethnic “others” are central for the creation of a type of Christianity that advances the interests of those who resonated with the dominant discourses and values of the empire. After providing an overview of how New Testament critics have already explored the terrain of ethnicity, this paper will outline some new directions for interpreting ethnicity in Luke-Acts that move beyond minoritized perspectives and invite a broad spectrum of hermeneutical entry points.

Abstract: Although Brockelmann’s Lexicon Syriacum (2nd ed., 1928) and Sokoloff’s revision of the Lexicon Syriacum (2009) include etymologies, and the Thesaurus Syriacus of Payne Smith (1879-1927) includes some information related to etymology, Syriac scholarship still awaits an in-depth etymological dictionary that makes use of the resources available to modern Semitists. In this presentation, I will point out some advantages of a digital dictionary and text corpus in producing an in-depth etymological dictionary. For example, digital technology makes possible the interlinking of the lexicon and corpus, ultimately allowing etymological options to be relatively easily compared with geographical, chronological, and dialectal data. In addition, a digital lexicon in which etymologies are tagged by category of semantic change allows research on the typology of semantic shifts. An etymological lexicon of Syriac that makes use of digital technology will also be useful in related Semitic and Afroasiatic fields, since tagged comparanda can be instantly sorted to generate partial etymological lexicons of whatever languages are included in the Syriac lexicon’s comparative scope. I will show how a typical etymological entry that optimizes these possibilities would look, using examples from the in-progress Oxford-BYU digital corpus and lexicon project.

In general, scholars have divided themselves among those who study space and those who study time, treating them as discrete, yet complementary categories. This is true in the academe broadly, in biblical studies, and in the study of Hebrews specifically. Concerning Hebrews, scholars focusing on the spatial cosmology tend to prefer a Platonic or Philonic reading, while those with a temporal perspective prefer a more apocalyptic/eschatological stance. More recently, however, a handful of scholars have begun to note the sophisticated spatiotemporal interactions that occur throughout Hebrews. Applying insights by critical theorists such as Henri Lefebvre and M.M. Bakhtin among others, this paper will explore some of the sophisticated relationships of space and time that extend throughout Hebrews with special attention to traditions of rest/land, tabernacle, and the camp, and how these spatial categories map in complex ways onto temporal categories of Sabbath, present, and future ages. This paper will provide a differential reading of the spatiotemporality of Hebrews by drawing in roughly contemporary apocalyptic works, particularly 4 Ezra and Revelation, which also have strong interests in the relationship between past, present, and future ages and the spatial categories of land/rest and temple/tabernacle, but map these relationships in different ways. This analysis, therefore, will take some initial steps to show what distinctive contribution Hebrews gives, while also seeing how it participates in spatiotemporal speculation of its own historical time and place.

In ancient physiognomic consciousness there was almost a universal consensus that a person of good moral character would have an attractive appearance that testified his or her virtues. Moreover, it was understood that figures who were either divine themselves or favoured by the divine would have a corresponding impressive physique. Some early Christian authors who operated with an otherwise typical physiognomic mind frame in other works nonetheless do not object to - and sometimes actively promote - the lacklustre physical form of the “Suffering Servant” as applied literally to Jesus to describe his physical appearance. This is a rather curious tension, and at odds with their contemporaries such as Philo and Josephus who demonstrate discomfort with and an attempt to refute traditions about the physical shortcoming of Moses. In view of this a reason why these early Christian authors deviate from the practices of their contemporaries requires a potential explanation. In this paper I suggest that these early Christian authors utilized the idea of a physically unimpressive Jesus for particular rhetorical gains that they thought trumped the stigma of an unattractive authority figure.

This paper will explore key issues and complexities for understanding prepositions in the exegesis of Greek text.

*

Happiness, understood as a state or process of human flourishing, has reemerged as a prevailing interest in North American philosophy and psychology. A participant in the Pursuit of Happiness project hosted by Emory University’s Center for the Study of Law and Religion (see Brent A. Strawn, ed., The Bible and the Pursuit of Happiness), the author draws upon Phil 3:2-4:1 as a case study for investigating the insights and limitations of happiness as construed in a Western postindustrial society. In this textual unit Paul reflects on his disavowal of one set of values and relationships for the sake of the gospel, and he invites his hearers to follow him on the path. Polemical in nature, Paul’s project aims to dissuade hearers from adopting an alternative set of values. Although joy constitutes a major theme in Philippians, Paul appeals to that value only indirectly in this unit, and he never invokes language that corresponds to happiness, yet he promotes one life path over another and reflects upon its rewards. Contemporary psychology would underscore the role of progress, community, and even afterlife hope in Paul’s argument, but it would struggle to account for the mystical language heavenly participation and that of knowing and being known by Christ. The paper also examines the relationship of suffering to happiness.

Many receptions of the Exodus story (including a well-known passage from the Passover liturgy) seek to project Pharaoh as a “type” beyond the framework of his narrative and group him with other villains in Jewish history. The hearer is thus reassured that the God who acted to save in the past, will do so again, even in the face of total annihilation. This is more than a pastoral message of assured deliverance. This view also charts an arc through time, linking those who seek the destruction of God’s people on a phenomenological plane. Pharaoh’s evil is not entirely his own. This essay explores constructions of evil in two receptions of the Exodus story: the Wisdom of Solomon and the Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael. I argue that both works express the phenomenological view of evil stated above while at the same time intentionally try to avoid specific personifications of cosmic evil. This latter emphasis is at odds with the chaoskampf and apocalyptic traditions both works are heir to and must occasionally make use of. Rather, the problem of overwhelming evil is solved through God's just punishment. In many cases, interpretive impulses present in Wisdom can also be identified in a more mature form in the Mekhilta. The essay outlines these two themes broadly in both works. First, it explores cosmogonic issues, showing first how Wisdom accommodates certain features of ANE chaoskampf traditions, latent in the biblical texts, into its Hellenistic worldview. Of special interest is Wisdom’s view of death as invasive to creation and whether or not diabolou is to be understood as a person in 2:23-24 (cf. 1:16). Similarly, the Mekhilta receives traditions of supernatural evil both from the Bible and interpretive tradition, but redirects their efficacy as most manifest in human behavior. Thus Baal Zaphon is seen as an idol that inspires Pharaoh (Beshalla? III:10-15; Pisc?a XIII:25-27) and God is envisioned as punishing the guardian angels because of the evil of their assigned kingdoms (Shirata II:111-119). Likewise God personally strikes down the firstborn in the tenth plague rather than using an agent (Pis?a XIII.9-11). Second, both works hyperbolize Egypt’s evil actions (e.g. Wisd 12:4-6; Wisd 19:13-16; Beshalla? II.221-30; Beshalla? VI.76-105) as well as God’s corresponding excessive punishment (e.g. Wisd 17; Beshalla? VII.109-21; Pis?a XIII.28-38; Pis?a XIII.98-106) and thus operate out of a tight causal understanding of lex talionis (e.g. Wisd 12:23; Beshalla? I.109). While Wisdom is more sensitive to skepticism regarding the justice of God’s actions (Wisd 12:15; 18:19b) the Mekhilta is unrelenting (Beshalla? II.195). Thus, God’s vengeance is its own justification: The God of the Universe would not be so consistently merciless were it not justified. The essay concludes by outlining some implications of the study for the study of wisdom literature more broadly, including the possibility of a genetic relationship between these works (a shared Sitz im Leben of persecution is the more likely explanation for most of these parallels) and the ways that apocalyptic traditions were received and transformed in later wisdom and midrashic literature.

Polysemy presents a particular challenge for lexicographers because polysemous words have a number of distinct but related senses. Though having antecedents in Wittgenstein, polysemy as a specific field of research within lexical semantics did not come into its own until the contributions of Lakoff and Langacker in the late 1980s. By contrast, the major dictionaries for Hellenistic Greek, especially the Bauer lexica, date back to a time before polysemy was better understood. As a result, they do not structure their lexical entries based on prototypical meanings and their cognitively motivated extensions. The iterative adverb pálin is a case in point. The Bauer lexica subdivide the semantic field for this word, primarily based on its glosses into German and English. Their first entry corresponds to the glosses back/zurück; their second entry corresponds to again/wieder; their third entry to various discourse glosses such as on the contrary; and their fourth entry pertains to two problem cases. This paper explores the polysemy of pálin based on modern linguistic literature and identifies six distinct but related senses for pálin: 1. counter-directional, in the direction opposite from which one came (Mark 7:24, 2 Cor 1:16, Gal 4:9a); 2. restitutive, returning to a position or state in which one had been in before (Mark 11:3, John 10:17, Rom 11:23, 1 Cor 7:5, Gal 1:17); 3. repetitive, repeating a previous action (John 10:31, 20:19, Acts 27:38); 4. contrastive focus (Luke 6:43, 1 Cor 12:21); 5. scene-shifting (Mark 2:1, John 4:3); 6. argumentative listing (Rom 15:10-12, 1 Cor 3:20, Heb 1:5). This paper concludes with a brief examination of some problematic instances of pálin within this framework (Mark 15:13, John 18:40, 2 Cor 2:1, and 1 John 2:8).

Invited panelist

This paper will explore some of the interactions between John’s Gospel and the Roman Empire. How does the world view of John’s Gospel construct the Roman Empire (imperial structures and personnel)? How does it construct Jesus? How do these constructions interact?

The past two years have seen an explosion of controversy surrounding how institutions of higher learning handle cases of sexual violence on their campuses. Many colleges and universities have been investigated for Title IX violations or have failed to report campus violence under the Clery Act in a timely manner. Public inquisitions of rape survivors, seen through the pervasive practice of victim-blaming made even more ubiquitous through social media, indicate that we live and work in a rape culture. In this paper, I investigate how rape stories in the Hebrew Bible help us respond to this environment which simultaneously romanticizes a hypothetical “perfect” rape victim and vilifies actual victims of sexual violence in the real world. Looking specifically at the rapes of Dinah (Genesis 34), the Levite’s pîlegeš (Judges 19), and Tamar (2 Samuel 13), I explore how these narratives both problematize and support this myth of the good victim, the standard against which contemporary rape survivors are judged. Rather than ignore these stories which may be unpleasant to read, they can help us address campus climate and cultural attitudes toward sexual violence in a real and meaningful way.

Abu?l-?akam Ibn Barrajan was hailed as the “al-Ghazali of al-Andalus” for good reason. He authored the most extensive Andalusian works of Sufi Qur?an commentary and theology during the intellectually formative 12th century. A true pioneer, Ibn Barrajan is likely the earliest qur?anic exegete to use the Arabic Bible extensively and non-polemically in his quest to understand the Qur?an. He freely incorporated biblical materials, especially from Genesis and Matthew, into his works to explain the Qur?an and fill gaps in his understanding of biblical figures and narratives. This paper assesses Ibn Barrajan’s mode of engagement with the Bible on the basis of my recently completed critical Arabic edition of the author’s 1000-page Qur’an exegesis (A Qur?an Commentary by Ibn Barrajan of Seville: I?a? al-?ikma bi-a?kam al-?ibra, “Wisdom Deciphered, The Unseen Discovered,” Brill, June 2015). I examine the different strategies Ibn Barrajan employed to resolve perceived incongruities between narratives of the Qur?an and the Bible. I argue, (1) That the Bible enjoys the same degree of interpretive authority in his works as Prophetic reports (?adith), and that there are instances where the Bible not only complements but also challenges his understanding of the Qur?an. (2) Ibn Barrajan’s openness to the Bible rests on his hermeneutical principle of ‘Qur?anic hegemony;’ that is to say, his reasoning that since the Qur?an is God’s final and untampered divine revelation, it can serve as the ultimate litmus test with which all other scriptural passages, including Bible, are to be judged and mined for wisdom. His far-reaching hermeneutical principle of qur?anic hegemony was probably partly inspired by the scripturalist-literalist writings of the ?ahiri scholar Ibn ?azm (d. 456/1064). (3) I demonstrate, on the basis of a close examination of Ibn Barrajan’s biblical quotations, that Ibn Barrajan’s Arabic Bible translation was a Mozarab text that was translated into Arabic directly from Jerome’s Latin Vulgate. When culled together, the biblical passages in Ibn Barrajan’s extant works occupy approximately twenty full pages in modern print, and a close examination of these passages confirms beyond reasonable doubt that Ibn Barrajan had a copy of a Latin-to-Arabic Andalusi translation of the Bible.

Using recent trends in ritual and prejudice studies as an optic for analyzing Zechariah, this paper will focus in particular on Joshua as a fraught literary symbol of restoration. Joshua, the embodiment of salvation, is an archetypal figure that embodies the semblance of the minority community's (remnant) collective prejudice. This understanding of Joshua, we will show, is consistent with Zechariah's emphasis upon the restoration of the remnant. This investigatory avenue helps better expose the anxieties that shaped the early monotheistic community: the community's prejudice against the "other" helped shape its own monotheistic ideals.

While there were a number of inquiries into the origin, development, ancient practice of the Sabbath and its relationship with creation, temple, and tabernacle during the 20th century, only a few researches argued for a special connection between the Sabbath and the Holiness Code (HC; Lev 17-26). Israel Knohl was among the first to recognize that the Sabbath is greatly emphasized in the HC. The special concern of the HC for holy time has received relatively less attention than the holy land. In the HC, however, the holy time is greatly elevated and the special concern for the holy time is developed by their elevation of the Sabbath and its juxtaposition with the sanctuary. In this paper, I will develop Knohl’s observation that H emphasizes the Sabbath by focusing on the Sabbath regulations within the HC and the most significant Sabbath texts outside the HC: Exod 31:12-17 and 35:1-3. The literary analysis of Exod 31:12-17 and 35:1-3 will not only show that H wrote these two texts, but it also shows how H greatly elevated the Sabbath to the level of the sanctuary by juxtaposing the Sabbath regulation with the commandments of the tabernacle. The elevation of the weekly Sabbath also shows H’s expansion of the holy time as the holy place is expanded from the tabernacle to the entire land of Jerusalem and the holy people from the priestly classes to all residents of the land. In particular, Lev 25-26 shows H’s further developments of the Sabbath (holy time) in relation to holy land and holy people as a proper way of worshiping YHWH.

In Numbers 25, God promises a “covenant of perpetual priesthood” (Num 25:13). Intriguingly, the promise is not given to Levi or Aaron, who might occupy the pinnacle of the list of priestly nominees.1 No one else but Phinehas received the promise, which was offered as a reward for his zeal for the LORD. Phinehas’ zeal and the subsequent reward seem to have become significant motifs for priestly covenant accounts in some of the late Second Temple period’s Jewish texts.2 In this short paper, first, I want to demonstrate that the Phinehas tradition is widely used by many Second Temple period Jewish documents in regard to building particular priestly traditions (or claims). The Phinehas tradition is used sometimes directly (e.g. 1 Maccabees and Ben Sira) and other times indirectly (e.g. Jubilees and Aramaic Levi Document). Moreover, the Phinehas tradition seems to have been used at times in relation to a “father” motif and in other instances in relation to a patriarchal covenant—the “covenant of Jacob.” The developments of the “father” motif or patriarchal aspect based on Phinehas’ priestly covenant tradition are probably linked to possible priestly disputes among Levitical, Aaronic, and Zadokite priesthood institutions in the late Second Temple period (as Olyan has argued). Therefore, by reading the father motif and patriarchal characteristics of particular priestly traditions, I also want to present the way in which some Second Temple Jewish writers composed priestly claims based on the Phinehas tradition and how their compositions shed light on the possible priestly disputes in late Second Temple Judaism.

"The people worshiped the Lord all the days of Joshua" (Judg 2:7). This sentence does not necessarily assume Israel's exclusive worship of YHWH. Israel did not know YHWH (v.10); the Israelites worshiped the Baals (v.11) and the Astartes (v.13); they abandoned YHWH (v.12, 13); they did not listen even to their judges (v.17); they lusted after other gods and bowed down to them (v.17). Othniel defeated Cushan-rishathaim and the land had rest forty years and he died (Judg 3:11). The change of Israel's attitude in serving YHWH is not even mentioned: from idolatry to monolatry. What would be the purpose of YHWH's raising up a deliverer for the Israelites? It is certainly to defeat the enemies but it cannot be the main reason. It should be to make Israel worship YHWH alone. Why isn’t there any mention of Israel’s exclusive worship of YHWH? In the case of Ehud, so many verses were allotted to describe how many Moabites he killed (v. 29) and the land had rest eighty years (v. 30). Not a word about Israel's serving of YHWH is in the text. It seems to me that the writer is more interested in the condition of the land, that is, whether the land had rest for some years. He does not even care about Israel's exclusive worship of YHWH. The invasion of other nations was ignited by Israel's serving other gods. Is the expression of the land's rest the sign for Israel's exclusive worship of YHWH in the land? The writer might use this expression instead of describing Israel's attitude of worshipping YHWH. This paper will deal with this expression relating to Israel's YHWH worship throughout the Book of Judges.

Women play an important role in conquest strategies both in the ancient and in the modern world. This paper will illustrate that reality through the stories of Aseneth and the Samaritan Woman. I will argue that through the trope of travel these ancient women are made to be the mouthpiece of particular theological agendas. In Joseph and Aseneth the mythical uniqueness of Israel is reinforced through the conversion of Aseneth. Her conversion, it can be proposed, has implications that go beyond the individual. She is “a prototype and representative of a whole company of proselytes.” In Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan Woman at the well (John 4:4-42), the nameless Samaritan Woman is confronted with the savior of the world (4:42), who told her everything she ever did. Through proselyting her neighbors she opens up her whole village to Jesus’ grand theological discourse.

To address the impact of the “big tent” on secular studies of religion and sacred texts, we want to consider evidence regarding the status of the field in Howard’s “Citation by Citation, New Maps Chart Hot Research and Scholarship's Hidden Terrain.” In the first graphic, http://chronicle.com/article/Maps-of-Citations-Uncover-New/128938/, Biblical Studies cites Classics and does so enough to map, Religion, or the Big Tent does not. While the data can be contested for various reasons, we do identify as interdisciplinary and should discuss our subfield’s “brand.” Beyond this graphic, social scientists articulating qualitative research standards identified religion as “a new frontier,” as if analytical scholarship on religion did not exist. As analysts, our issues are paralleled across the social sciences specifically the problematically formulated binary between activist and empirical scholarship. With recent examples, I will outline how people in the tent have talked about or are structurally allowed to ignore “us” while reasserting a notion of the big tent; arguably this is part of a dynamic identified by Lincoln. We want to articulate how we have long aligned with the wider social sciences. Social scientists advocated critical theory informed, historically attenuated, empirically grounded practice long before a recent reassertion. That consensus maps with J.Z. Smith, Riesebrodt, Lincoln, Taves, Lynch and others and has manifested in theory-attentive, descriptive historical scholarship that has grown to address research design more explicitly. We want to clearly articulate how we use theory and method in research design: accountability to representation, falsifiability and existing secondary literatures; the use of theory to denaturalize dominant narratives and our research questions; how we define, acquire, delimit and make claims about data; scale and the purpose of our communications with the people we understand to be our potential audiences.

Recent discussion of Paul has moved beyond a simply binary opposition between 'New Perspective' and 'Lutheran' approaches with new scholarly voices asserting that the 'New Perspective' is not radical enough in rejecting previous approaches. It remains too dependent upon Christian theology in general and Augustinian/Lutheran approaches in particular, and so fails accurately to reflect Paul in his first century context. This paper explores that contention in relation to Paul's anthropology, especially his use of the term 'the flesh' and its relationship to his use of the term 'sin'. Their treatment in both early Protestant and New Perspective exegesis of key texts in Romans and Galatians is explored. Despite some differences in detail, 'New Perspective' exegesis does continue to depend in very significant ways upon the exegetical conclusions of the Reformers. Yet precisely this dependence upon the exegesis of the Reformers leaves 'New Perspective' accounts of Paul's anthropology in disagreement with other significant figures in the history of interpretation, most notably Augustine. While correct in their assertion of continuity between the 'Lutheran' approach and the 'New Perspective', those advocating a more radical perspective underestimate the complexity of the relationship between contemporary exegesis of Paul and that of previous eras. The rhetoric of conflicting or dependent perspectives masks a more complicated reality.

The exile to Babylon is a crucial element in the book of Jeremiah that illustrates diverse and conflicting ideological perspectives. On the surface Jeremiah 29 and 42 delineate two supposedly incompatible exilic ideologies. However, these exilic perspectives contain crucial parallels that reconcile the conflicting differences in these texts. This paper demonstrates how the contrasting pro-golah and pro-Judah elements in Jeremiah 29 and 42 do not render these chapters as incompatible, rather similar concepts of estrangement from the homeland serve as the foundational ideology of both chapters. A critical analysis of Jeremiah 29 and 42 through diasporic notions of "space" and "place" illustrate that exile from one’s homeland is not merely a physical ordeal that requires a geographical relocation, but a group can undergo an exilic experience even if they remain in the same territory. "Space" is the representation of a specific geographical location, while "place" is established through the cultural, political, and religious perspectives that groups formulate and sustain in order to develop their collective identity within a particular space. Even though the golah and the remnant in Judah reside in different "spaces," they mutually experience exile through the loss of sovereignty over their "place," and as a result they are faced with the difficult task of reconstructing their group identities in the midst of alienation. Examining Jeremiah 29 and 42 through the lenses of "space" and "place" demonstrates that whether the Judeans live in the land or relocate to Babylon, both groups undergo the same inevitable fates: both groups become the subaltern “other,” lose authority and power over Judah, and must exist as a collective without the stability of their territory.

Versions of the curious saying, "be approved moneychangers," circulated widely among early Christian writers, who identified their own interpretive practices with the ability to discern true from counterfeit coin. This paper, intended for the third project, first explores the saying's economic context by examining evidence for those figures (e.g. dokimastai, nummularii, trapezitai) entrusted with controlling and testing currency in the Roman world. It then discusses how this specific economic activity became a suggestive analogy for interpretation by considering its cultural status as an art or techne, that is, a trade requiring specialized knowledge and skill.

Matthew’s use of Scripture in his infancy story of Jesus raises a host of questions. Not only his enigmatic employments of citations that R. T. France calls a “minefield littered with exegetical corpses,” but also the sources of his non-Septuagintal quotations, are notoriously difficult to locate. However, the discussion of the origin of Scriptural citations can yield insights to the sources that Matthew may have used, which also throws light on further examination of F. Watson’s recent proposal. Breaking with the current scholarly consensus that Matthew and Luke independently wrote their Gospels without having knowledge of each other’s work, Watson argues that Luke composed his infancy story of Jesus based on Matthew’s narrative in a creative way. This fresh approach, however, is dealt with a laconic manner that eventually undermines the significance of the distinctive features and exegetical strategies of Matthew and Luke. Especially, the origin of the citations as well as the way Matthew uses Scripture in his infancy narrative are radically different from Luke that it is hard to conclude that Luke’s story was secondary to Matthew’s. In this paper, I will trace the origin of Matthew’s formula quotations with a critical assessment of the contributions of K. Stendahl, R. H. Gundry, G. M. Soares-Prabhu, and other contemporary scholars such as M. J. J. Menken and A. M. O’Leary, and perform a comparative analysis of the Scriptural citations and allusions of Matthew and Luke in order to demonstrate that Watson’s recent proposal is unsatisfactory.

As part of larger project on female resistance in the Old Testament, this paper will focus on the fascinating account of Abigail resisting the very real threat of violence that threatens her household when David vows to kill all the male members of Nabal’s household because he and his men had been refused sustenance. I propose that what is particularly interesting about this narrative account of female agency that is told in 1 Samuel 25 is that Abigail’s act of resisting violence comes through acts of hospitality, by her decision to offer a feast of food to the hungry, to the landless, to the marginalized (cf. 1 Sam 22:2 that describes the men who gathered around David as “everyone who was in distress and everyone who was in debt, and everyone who was discontented”). Engaging Judith Butler’s work in Frames of War, this paper will investigate the nature and the extent of Abigail’s resistance, inquiring about the factors that make it possible for this woman to step outside of her predetermined societal role and to resist the reality of violence that permeates her world. Moreover, this paper will reflect on the ongoing significance of narratives that outline acts of (female) resistance. I propose that the narrative of Abigail’s hospitality that saved her whole household, offered the community of 1 Samuel, as well as later generations who find themselves in situations of violence themselves, hovering on the brink of annihilation, the opportunity to reflect on questions such as: How does one survive in a hostile world? How may one go about transcending violence?

Bibles were not the only, or even the primary way, that medieval people engaged Scripture. One striking Scriptural medium is a twelfth-century prayer book that portrayed salvation history and personalized it for its reader, by a carefully designed program of paired pictures and prayers. This book (Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek CLM 935), was created for a woman, as indicated by the noun and adjective endings in the Latin prayers and by the comprehensive use of images, a means of devotional engagement increasingly associated with women’s spiritual practices. On almost every opening in the book, there is a full-page painting on the verso and a full-page prayer on the recto. The sequence begins with creation and includes major scenes from Genesis, then shifts quickly to the focus on Gospel events in the life of Jesus. The book is unusual for its extensive portrayal of scenes in the public career of Jesus, with much attention to women as recipients of his miracles. This paper examines the ways that the paired texts and images were designed to evoke a multi-sensory devotional experience for the user of the book. Some of these dynamics were common to the personal use of any book in this period: the feel of the parchment with its tactile reminder of flesh or the kinetic engagement of turning pages. Other dynamics were more peculiar to the devotional purpose of this particular book: the portrayal of angels singing in heaven as a trigger to shift from physical hearing to spiritual hearing; the prayers that reposition words with specific sensory correlates from Jesus’ passion (wound, spear, vinegar, etc.), into the life of the reader. This paper also incorporates recent neurological research that reveals a subliminal level of empathic response to art. Thus in some cases, the pictures in the Munich prayer book can be seen to work in tandem with the words of the prayers to push the reader to see herself in the biblical roles depicted and described. Yet sometimes the pictures and the prayers seem to diverge in their messages, leaving the reader perhaps to wonder which senses to trust. The issue of gender will run throughout this analysis, with attention to medieval ideas about the particularly sensual nature of women, and the types of religious practice most suitable for women.

Nicetas of Heraclea’s catena of the Gospel of John remains unedited and unpublished in its entirety, and largely unexamined. The current paper presents a text-critical study of the Gospel of John as it is preserved in all known extant manuscripts of the catena (Gregory-Aland 249 317 333 423 430 743 869). Using genetically significant readings, overall levels of agreement between witnesses, and, in the case 333 423, paleographic evidence, I propose that the witnesses of the catena are related as follows: 1) 249 333 423 are descendants of a lost common ancestor, ß; 2) 333 was the exemplar used by the copyist of 423; 3) 317 869 are descended from a lost common ancestor, ?; 4) 430 is an independent witness with an idiosyncratic text; 5) 743 has a high degree of contamination from the majority text and an unclear relationship with the other witnesses.

The North French Hebrew Miscellany (NFHM) (Brit. Lib. Add. Ms. 11659) is a Hebrew manuscript dating to the late thirteenth century; it includes a treasury of diverse texts ranging from liturgy to legal texts to poetry, and an extensive program of artistic decoration. The manuscript was written and decorated at a time of increasing persecution for the Jews of France, framed by the burning of the Talmud in Paris in 1242 and the expulsion of the Jews from France in 1306. Among the full-page miniatures is a representation of the judgment of Solomon (1 Kgs 3:16–28). The two mothers, positioned to the left of Solomon, are interestingly differentiated. One stands, clothed in red, wearing the headgear of a well-to-do woman, gesticulating with a knowing smile; the other, blue-robed and wearing a simple snood, kneels with troubled expression and hands up in supplication. The painting is placed near the beginning of the manuscript’s third series of images, between portrayals of fantastic beasts and seemingly out of sequence with the representations of biblical scenes that follow later in the series. Recent research on the NFHM has highlighted the connections between the artistic program and the anti-Christian polemic in some of the texts; I suggest that in this case, attention to one particular text can provide clues to the enigmatic features of the image. One of the many piyyutim included in the collection is a well-known poem, Tzama Nafshi (My soul thirsts), written by the twelfth-century Spanish commentator and philosopher R. Abraham ibn Ezra. One stanza of the poem opposes “the true mistress” to “the handmaid,” and puts in the mouth of the handmaid the assertion of the (deceitful) mother in 1 Kgs 3:22: “Your son is the dead one and my son is the living one!” This verse is generally interpreted as a rather obvious symbolic mapping of Sarah and Hagar (as Judaism and Islam), onto the judgment scenario, with the vindication of Judaism in view. Such a reading is not impossible; however, verses added to the poem (found in the NFHM), one very early in its circulation and one which may have come from the pen of the scribe of the NFHM, suggest that the Church is actually the object of this polemic. I argue that in fact, ibn Ezra’s imagery inverts the Christian appropriation of Sarah as the “true mistress,” rooted in turn in Paul’s allegorical deployment of Sarah and Hagar in Galatians 4. Language in some of the piyyut commentary included in the Miscellany seems to reflect the same association. I argue that both the miniature’s portrayal of the two women in the judgment scene and the placement of the image in relation to the overall program reflect the same midrashic and anti-Christian deployment of the story as that found in ibn Ezra’s poem. Both image and text thus participate in the NFHM’s subversive message that the true children of the “true mistress” will ultimately be vindicated against the claims of the false one.

This paper is situated within a larger project that analyzes Justin's First and Second Apology (hereafter, simply the Apologies) in light of their subjective appropriation of the forms and practices of the Roman administrative system of petition and response. In this wider project, I argue that the Apologies perform the genre of the administrative petition, but they perform it multiply, as complex and many-faceted literary creations, manipulating generic conventions and weaving together multiple discourses in a way that both points to and transcends the conventions of administrative petitions. This simultaneous invocation, hybridization, and, at times, subversion of the petition form lies at the heart of Justin's literary project. Taking its start from the essentially eclectic nature of the Apologies, the present paper focuses specifically on hybridity as a crucially important aspect of Justin's persuasive program, and one that situates him firmly within the wider currents of Greek literary culture in the second century (i.e., the Second Sophistic). Justin's eclecticism--far from a personal idiosyncrasy, a sign of inferior style, or the result of a simple lack of mastery--is, upon further examination, integral to his literary self-fashioning, which performatively elaborates cultural and literary codes in a way perfectly intelligible in the context of second century literary culture. This paper demonstrates the nature of the Apologies' generic promiscuity, especially their interweaving of administrative, apologetic, and protreptic discourses; it examines Justin's performance of these various generic modes as a philosopher, paying special attention to the relationship he constructs between himself as petitioner, his addressees as supplicandi, and his various opponents; and it provides a broader contextualization of his hybridizing strategy within the Greek literary world. It will conclude by suggesting a reading of the Apologies as a kind of monumentalizing performance of voiced injustice and Christian transparency, understandable against the backdrop of the publicness of the petition system and the public performance spaces of the ancient city. It therefore contributes to our understanding of the Apologies as sophisticated literary creations that participate in and manipulate both the Roman imperial system of petition and response and the hybridizing self-fashioning current in contemporary Greek literary culture.

The Bible is a male book, written by men, to be read by men. That means that it is permeated by characteristically male values and ideals, some overt, others rarely noticed. Among these values are: the glorification of strength; the valorization of strength in action, which is violence and killing; the importance of size; the quest for honour; exclusionary holiness; womanlessness; totality thinking; binary thinking. (Among the biblical examples of male thinking I will show how Mary’s Magnificat is almost entirely composed of male language.) These embedded values continue to influence Bible readers, often subconsciously. They are most potent when they affect the language of religion, and shape the picture of the Bible’s deity. The scandal is twofold: it is that the Bible is deeply compromised by its ubiquitous adherence to specifically male values, and that its masculinity is rarely assessed, noticed, or mentioned, even in our much more egalitarian world.

Every intellectual adventure has a starting point. Digital Humanities are today well anchoraged in the Swiss academic landscape, but when I started to focus my attention on this growing research trend and involved an interdisciplinary team of colleagues in this adventure, I started from papyrological evidences and research. Six years later, I would like in this paper come back to this apparently surprising starting point. In a masterful small essay, the French writer Pascal Quignard has drawn the praise and the complexity of the “fragment”, inspired by the work of La Bruyère (Une gêne technique à l’égard des fragments, 1986). In our emerging digital culture, the “fragment” sounds again to be a quite usual form of textuality, a form so well known in papyrology. Indeed, by its so often fragmentary aspect, a papyrus is an object proper to disrupt and deconstruct the careful categories established by the Modern Age. Papyrology has always lead researchers to «visualization», beyond a textual perception of it: it has always mattered to see the papyrus, to compare its writing with another one, in order to date it. Such elements draw the general background that has lead papyrology to get the digital country before other Ancient fields, as I begun to argue it in a 2011 article. I will develop this general background and observe in which ways some DH projects are dealing with the notion and perception of the «fragment», such as SAWS for example. Finally, I will considering the specific case of the small P126 (PSI 1497). It challenges our common modern and pre-digital notion of the “text” of the Epistle according to the Hebrews (see Clivaz 2010): to “take the digital risk” of the fragment impacts what we know about and read in Hebrews.

This paper examines extant Greek versions and manuscript traditions of the Book of the Watchers, a work esteemed by many early Christians. The focus of the study concerns the nature and significance of the Greek witnesses, with attention to the textual history of the Book of the Watchers (BW). Building on the work of William Adler, Erik Larson and Luca Arcari, variants, tendencies in the translation and relation to other translations are explored through examination of two principal Greek versions preserved among Christians. The first and most extensive recension is from the Akhmim Codex, a collection of texts buried in the grave of Coptic monk. This Greek manuscript contains BW 19:3-31:9 and then BW 1:1-32:6, which follow the incomplete texts of the Gospel of Peter and Apocalypse of Peter. Of special interest to this study is the translation found in the Akhmim manuscript, which makes reference to “titans,” “Tartarus,” and “sirens”; a question we take up is whether the translation, in which some observe Septuagintal conventions, is pre-Christian. The second Greek version is preserved in excerpts conveyed by Byzantine chronographer, George Synkellos. These correspond to BW 6:1-9:4; 8:4-10:14; 15:8-16:1. Synkellos apparently derives his information concerning Enoch from fifth century CE chronographers Panodorus and Annianus. While the text of Synkellos exhibits revisions or interpolations that could fit Byzantine ethos of the chronographer, at times the textual evidence from Synkellos agrees with the fragmentary Aramaic text recovered in Cave 4 at Qumran. Additional witnesses, while not as extensive, also contribute to the study of Greek recensions. The Epistle of Jude (verse 14) includes a citation of BW 1:9, that differs somewhat from the Akhmim copy. Further, a recently rediscovered Greek manuscript P.Gen. inv. 187 shares language reminiscent of BW 17:2-5. Paleography dates the papyrus to the third century CE. While some of the Greek agrees with the Akhmim manuscript, there is also agreement with an Ethiopic recension of BW. In sum, examination of these four textual traditions sheds light on the translation of BW and its transmission among diverse Christians.

The Lukan Beatitudes in the Canonical Choir

Using Narrative Critical methods I will argue that the "Hellenes" in John 12 are Gentiles, not Greek-speaking Jews. I will give strong consideration to the narrative context particularly the OT citations in this passage from Zephaniah and Zechariah. These citations correct the crowd’s acclamation that Jesus is the King of Israel and extend Jesus’ significance to the entire cosmos. The cosmic dimension engages Jesus in a final struggle with ‘the ruler of this world’ which will draw all things/people (panta/s) to him.

On his third visit to Corinth in the early second century, Favorinus of Arelate found himself confronted by a quandary. On an earlier visit, the Corinthians honored the famous sophist and philosopher by erecting a bronze statue of him in front of the city’s library (possibly the building modern archaeologists call the Southeast Building of the Corinthian Forum). For reasons that remain unclear, the Corinthians later decided to take the statue down. Confronted by this affront to his honor, Favorinus delivered (or, at least, fantasized about delivering) the stinging rebuke of the Corinthians that has come down to us as his Corinthian Oration, found among the collection of Dio Chrysostom’s speeches. In the oration, Favorinus stands in front of the library alongside his fallen statue and conjures it back into existence to defend it in a mock trial before his Corinthian audience, gathered in the Forum. Switching between characters, Favorinus defends his statue and (by extension) himself by lampooning the Corinthians, their city, and the very practice of representing honor in statues. Statues are not safe repositories of honor because they can be destroyed, desecrated, and even misidentified. Ultimately, Favorinus suggests that it is the fallen statue conjured in the sophist’s own speech that transcends the vagaries of history and remains forever a true symbol of Favorinus’ paideia, honor, and virtue.

The Caleb-Achsah narrative is virtually identical in Joshua 15:13-19 and Judges 1:9-14; however, the pericope differs significantly in its co-textual and contextual placement. Its position in Joshua is relatively isolated—an intimate family anecdote which is linked to the surrounding allocations of tribal territory only by the announcement of Caleb’s portion—but in Judges it forms an integral part of the complex structure of the first introduction and contributes significantly to the book’s themes. Incorporating methodologies such as discourse analysis and literary analysis, this paper will argue that the first introduction of Judges is structured by the source of Israel’s strength and moves through four stages: 1. Yahweh’s strength gives the land to Israel, 2. Yahweh is with Israel, his strength available to them, 3. Israel grows in its own strength and disobeys Yahweh, and 4. Yahweh rebukes Israel and withdraws his strength. The Achsah-Caleb narrative fits between stages 1 and 2 when Judah’s campaign is stalling. Caleb is anxious for victory and makes a vow to give his daughter to the warrior who conquers Debir. In spite of the fact that Caleb is a competent and successful leader, this vignette serves as a negative comment on Caleb’s vow and his lack of trust in Yahweh’s strength. In spite of Israel’s covenant with its God, he did not trust Yahweh to give him success but, like Jephthah, took inappropriate steps to obtain it. Achsah, on the other hand, acts in a way that implicitly reproves her father’s actions. As early as the first introduction, this pericope suggests the incipient inadequacy of Israel’s leadership which will escalate in the judge cycles that follow.

The distinctions among ambiguous lexemes – whether they are examples of homonymy, polysemy, or vagueness – can often be hard to spell out, and the existing tests for polysemy (such as those outlined in e.g., Geeraerts 1993) sometimes give conflicting results. This presents special problems for lexical semantics, and especially for lexicography. Some different approaches to these problems, especially as they bear on the composition of a dictionary of Qumran Aramaic, are here explored in some detail, particularly with reference to words for human physical (e.g., yd, r' š) or mental (e.g, rwh., npš) features.

Cosmic geography alters dramatically in the concluding visionary chapters of Ezekiel’s book. The cosmic structure in Ezek 38-48 morphs. There occurs a sharp severing of the temple’s old interconnections with the netherworld and a radical intensification of the shrine’s nexus with heaven. The new cosmic map is unique, differing substantially, for example, from reality’s structure in Third Isaiah. Isaiah 56:3-5 retains mortuary memorials in the temple, assuring eunuchs that they will not lose their ongoing membership among the living after death. Ezek 43:6–9, by contrast, insists that all temple precincts be completely untainted by death’s defiling uncleanness (cf. Ezek 44:25, etc.). So too, the cosmic deep is present in Zech 1:8, but its iconography, the bronze sea, has no place whatsoever in Ezekiel (see 40:28-47). Only fresh, living waters now flow from its old locale south of the altar (Ezek 47:1). According to Ezek 39:11, the passage to the netherworld is now clogged with the crush of enemy departed souls. On the other hand, Ezekiel’s utopia greatly strengthens the shrine’s nexus with Heaven. It provides earth with a powerful and perpetual interconnection with living divine reality. The temple of Ezek 40-48 is something entirely new in Israel, not a return to an ideal past but a veritable experience of transfiguration on earth.

The epistemology of scribes in the ancient Near East was fundamentally traditional. Physical documents handed down by previous generations of scribes, copied and recopied, were the primary means of knowing not only the past, but the contemporaneous world as well. The stream of tradition was the font of knowing all things at all times. Nonetheless, scribes were not statically unresponsive to changing cultural needs. Ancient documentary traditions could be adapted to new contexts and concerns. Recent scholarship has shown that Babylonian scribes asserted the validity of ancient documents as a way of knowing their world, but they also recontextualized that ancient knowledge by means of translation and commentary (Gabbay, “Deciphering Cuneiform Texts through Ancient and Modern Conceptions of Literal Meaning,” 2009). In Mesopotamia, old documents in a dead language were translated into a living one, and they were re-envisioned in the process. They were also hermeneutically manhandled into contemporary linguistic and cultural relevance. In contrast, Judah’s invention of vernacular documentation in the Iron Age (Sanders, The Invention of Hebrew) meant that Judean scribes dealt with opaquely novel documents and documentary styles. It also marked the loss of older, venerable, but ultimately foreign writing traditions. Nonetheless, they, too, asserted that older was better, and drew from a native stream of tradition like their Mesopotamian counterparts. One course of that stream was the remembrance and veneration of the (written) names of eponymous ancestors (Radner, Die Macht des Namens, 2005). Judean scribes employed their philological training to adapt the ancient and commensurately valid data of names to invent meaningful and contemporaneously relevant documents. Thus, like their Babylonian contemporaries, they both conceded to the font of the stream of tradition, while at the same time managed its course and, indeed, capitalized on its epistemic momentum.

This paper will trace Plotinus’ explorations of eros and ascent in the Enneads (primarily, because of time restrictions, in such “middle” works as 3 8 (30) and 6 7 (38)), in relation to two issues in the thought of Plato and Aristotle: first, with reference to Plato’s and Aristotle’s treatments of love and friendship primarily in the Lysis, Alcibiades I (which I think is genuinely by Plato), Republic, Symposium, Phaedrus and Nicomachean Ethics/Eudemian Ethics; and, second, with reference to the paradeigmatic ascents of Republic 7, Symposium (“greater mysteries”) and (much less noticed) Metaphysics 12, 7. I will argue for a striking, if often overlooked hermeneutical resonance between Plato and Aristotle, on the one hand, and Plotinus and later Neoplatonism, on the other.

In discussions of the Hebrew Bible’s response to traumatic events, the sixth-century BCE Babylonian invasion of Jerusalem and subsequent exile appropriately receive considerable attention. It should not be forgotten, however, that biblical texts contain memories of earlier experiences of collective trauma, including the various Neo-Assyrian incursions in the late eighth century BCE that resulted in the conquest of Israel and the political subjugation of Judah. Pre-exilic texts from Isaiah 1-33 represent some of the earliest attempts to process and interpret these experiences. This paper will examine Isaianic depictions of Assyria (e.g., Isa 5:25-29; 10:5-15) in conversation with trauma studies, with special attention to the use of language typically associated with YHWH to describe Assyria, and the oft-discussed reappropriation of motifs from Assyrian propaganda for YHWH. Typically, these features are understood as part of a rhetorical strategy to assert YHWH’s superiority over Assyria and thereby discredit Assyrian claims of preeminence. While this explanation has merit, matters become more complicated when these texts are interpreted as “trauma narratives,” that is, as symbolic representations of traumatic events that allow their victims to negotiate their meaning at a safe distance. From this perspective, the slippage between Assyria and YHWH in these texts reveals the community’s struggle to determine responsibly for its suffering, which it attributes simultaneously to Assyria and to YHWH. The notion of a divine plan by which YHWH uses Assyria to punish Judah for its offenses (e.g., Isa 10:5-15; 14:24-27) partially reconciles these multiple impulses to assign blame, but Isaiah’s emphasis upon the incomprehensibility of the divine plan (e.g., Isa 28:21) also preserves some of the tension and ambivalence that necessarily remain in the community’s understanding of its trauma.

In Deutero-Isaiah, divine glory (doxa) and the divine Name, i.e. onoma used in reference to YHWH, are featured together as the central issue at stake in the trial speeches, and are summative of divine eschatological revelation. The significance of these concepts is likely to have generated the emphasis placed on glory and the divine Name in John’s Gospel. Yet in this paper, I wish to draw attention to a third aspect of glory and Name language in the Greek LXX of Deutero-Isaiah: It’s function to associate God with a distinguishable “servant” figure. Through a survey of Name and glory language in the “Servant songs,” I will propose that this language itself functions as the locus of the most explicit association between YHWH and the Servant, which may well have facilitated John’s christological interpretation of Jesus as the one who is uniquely given the divine Name to reveal it (John 17.6, 11-12).

The systematic development of medieval theology has long been recognized as one of the distinguish marks of the emerging scholasticism of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Peter Lombard’s Sentences and Thomas Aquinas’ Summa Theologiae are prime examples of how scholasticism influenced the very form of medieval theology. Less recognized, though, is the impact that scholasticism had on the form of biblical commentaries. This paper proposes to examine one particular way in which scholasticism introduced a new form within the composition of biblical commentaries: the divisio textus. Using Thomas Aquinas’ Lectura ad Ephesios as a test-case, we will examine the way in which some scholastic commentators divided and subdivided every passage of a biblical text in order to demonstrate its relationship to a single, unifying theme. Influenced by a renewed philosophical vigor in the High Middle Ages, these divisions were then used to communicate the commentator’s particular interpretation of the logic and theological significance of the multivalent and inexhaustible sacred scripture. In Ephesians, for example, Aquinas suggests the main theme of the letter is the origination of church unity and then sees two main subdivisions contributing to this theme: confirming the church in good habits (Chaps 1–3) and strengthening the church to a higher good (Chaps 4–6). Both of these sections are further subdivided, illustrating how each aspect of the letter contributes to the single unifying theme. In the conclusion, we suggest that the scholastic movement introduced a new form for biblical commentary that, though quite distinct from the grammatical-syntactical and discourse analyses of modern commentaries, would become something of a precursor for the continued orderly analysis of the biblical texts in academic commentary.

In modern times, the flood narrative in Genesis 6-9 has been a proof-text for the methodological value of source criticism in studying the Hebrew Bible, just as it has been a lightning rod for heated debate about the integrity of the narrative. While it is not the intention of this paper to offer a new source-critical investigation of this often-studied passage, it aims to show that the text’s integrity (or lack thereof) has been a prime issue for biblical interpreters since the beginning. In particular, it aims to demonstrate that the translator of LXX-Genesis employed a handful of translation-technical strategies to smooth over contradictions and redundancies in his Vorlage (esp. lexical collapse, lexical differentiation, and variation in verb tenses), and that he often deviated from his normal translation practices in order to do so.

This paper attempts to access the mind of the translator of Job by examining those instances the OG has no correspondence in the source text. Since these pieces of text cannot really be called “translation,” they belong uniquely to the translator. In the LXX corpus this is a rare phenomenon and, as such, provides an unusual opportunity to examine what is, in effect, non-translation Greek in a translated document. If this foray is successful, the examination should allow us to access the translator’s mind with respect to vocabulary, grammar, rhetorical features, and religious thought.

The argument of this paper is that Jesus and Paul were not shamans but if you want to grasp what they were up to and understand the dynamics of their lives, there is probably no better cross-cultural model available than shamanism or the shamanic complex. In the first part of the paper shamanism is presented as an biopsychosocial phenomenon which appear in identifiable patterns of human experiences, behaviour and conduct across cultures. As such it is presented as a neurophenomenological entity. That means, it links phenomenal experiences found cross-culturally with neurological functions. Put differently, it treats shamanism as a (neuro)biologically based phenomenon that finds expression in world-wide manifestations of culturally diverse but recognisable patterns. Alternate states of consciousness (ASCs), or what Winkelman calls “a biologically based integrative mode of consciousness” lie at the root of shamanism as identifiable world-wide pattern of human experience and conduct. Shamanism as a biopsychosocial phenomenon offers an interpretive tool for analysing a whole range of embodied experiences often associated with figures such as Jesus of Nazareth and Paul. In the second part of the paper the interpretive potential of shamanism defined in this way is utilised in order to show how central features attributed to Jesus of Nazareth and the apostle Paul are illuminated when seen through this lens. Shamanism offers one way of understanding and describing many of the extraordinary, if not unbelievable, aspects of the early Christian tradition as embodied experiences and neurocultural phenomena. This include visionary and soul travel experiences, spirit possession or fulfilment, dying and rising experiences and healing and exorcism activities.

The canonical fourfold gospel that spread throughout the Mediterranean basin and beyond during late antiquity was not usually transmitted as a bare text, but typically included various paratextual features, including most prominently the Eusebian Canon Tables. This apparatus represents a sophisticated cross-referencing system invented by Eusebius of Caesarea in the fourth century, though building upon the earlier work of Ammonius of Alexandria. Eusebius’ system proved to be astonishingly successful and was soon being copied in gospel codices from Ireland to Ethiopia, and from Ravenna to Armenia. Indeed, one could say that it was not just the fourfold gospel, but specifically Eusebius’ edition of the fourfold gospel that became central to the diverse Christian traditions that emerged from the fourth century onwards. The significance of this observation lies in the potential of the Eusebian apparatus to function as a hermeneutical key to the fourfold gospel by guiding the reader to an intertextual reading of the four. This paper will explore the way this intertextual approach ties the Gospel of John more closely to the other three gospels by highlighting points of comparison between John and the Synoptics. The Eusebian Canons thus enable a canonical exegesis which respects the irreducible diversity of the four accounts, while also highlighting their underlying unity as a witness to the single Jesus presented therein.

The work to describe and map out the varieties of Christianities in the first and second centuries is beset by numerous thorny methodological questions. This paper seeks to lay out some of the problems with talking about “religion” or “religious identities” as descriptive categories in the Roman Empire. Drawing on the work of J.Z. Smith as applied by students of early Christianities such as William Arnal and Karen King, the contemporary, political nature of the categories will be underscored. In short, the paper asks: Is our work describing ancient identities as much about describing contemporary identities as it is about reconstructing the past? What questions should we ask and what controls can we put in place to avoid reifying categories that did not exist?

This will be a response to Jaco Gericke's argument for philosophical criticism as a form of biblical criticism.

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In the past fifty years, the issue of anti-Judaism in the New Testament has been a growing concern. While all the gospels and various letters in the New Testament have content that fuels debate in the area of anti-Judaism, the Gospel of John is especially problematic, because of its devotional nature and prominence in the daily life of the Church and because of its blanket use of the term ?? ???da??? for the enemies of Jesus. While best translated “the Jews,” in order to avoid fostering a modern anti-Jewish sentiment that could be picked up from the text, many modern commentators/interpreters of the Fourth Gospel avoid the general use of the term “the Jews” and instead translate ?? ???da??? as “Jewish leaders,” “Jewish Authorities,” “Judeans,” or in other substitute terms. This transfers as well into the realm of homiletics as preachers knowingly and unknowingly give sermons based on such translations and commentaries. As a result, the hearers of these homilies may never know the interfaith controversy and the persecution history at stake in their beloved texts. The texts come to them "pre-sanitized," fostering an unfortunate ignorance among the laity and even some ministers. New Testament scholar Raymond Brown, who wrote on the Gospel of John for 38 years, slowly came to an awareness of the potential anti-Judaism in the text. While an active member of the academy, Brown was also a Catholic priest, meaning that he could not simply dismiss unsavory portions of the Gospel of John as invented claims of a first-century Jew-hater. Instead, he had to navigate between his religious convictions that held the text as authoritative with historical merit, and his modern sensibilities that over time could not ignore the grave possibilities available when a religiously authoritative text could be read as fostering anti-Judaism. Opposed to deliberately softening translations, Brown instead advocated that scholars should translate accurately, protecting neither the text nor those who would hear/read it, but then ministers should explain the text and preach forcefully against the adoption of anti-Jewish attitudes that one might find in the text. Using the Gospel of John and the issue of anti-Judaism, this paper will explore the relationship between biblical interpretation and homiletics, and focus particularly on Raymond Brown’s understanding of this problem and the validity of his proposed solution.

This paper identifies several broad shifts in the character of Israelite identity during the exilic period by focusing on the rhetoric used by the deuteronomistic framework of Deuteronomy. The paper's primary objective is to contribute to our understanding of the development of Israelite identity, thought and theology, particularly with regard to the book of Deuteronomy. It aims also to offer a more sophisticated perspective on the question of whether Israelite identity during this period merits the term 'nationalist'.

Jesus’ encounter with his hometown in Luke 4:16–30 is widely held to play a programmatic role in Luke’s double-volume work. In particular, the conflict described in the second part of pericope seems to anticipate the rejection of Jesus by his own people and his forthcoming death, just as the allusion to the ministries of Elijah and Elisha beyond Israel seems to foreshadow the extension of the Christian movement to the Gentiles which becomes so important in Acts. The passage has thus played an important role in assessing Luke’s view of the Jewish people. Despite the hermeneutical importance of this episode, however, its narrative logic continues to perplex interpreters. Indeed, as is well-known, the passage depicts a crowd apparently appreciative of Jesus’ “words of grace” suddenly turning into a murderous mob against him apparently as a reaction to his mention that a prophet is no welcomed in his hometown and his allusion to the ministries of Elijah and Elisha. A common explanation of the pericope is that it is the clarification of the focus or the scope of Jesus’ ministry which greatly offends the population. According to this interpretation, Jesus refuses to give in to his hometown’s narrow and parochial understanding of his mission when they press him to benefit his own people with the proverb “Physician, heal yourself!.” Rather, Jesus answers with a statement asserting that his ministry must focus, or at least be extended to, others, just like the ministries of Elijah and Elisha were addressed to Gentiles. It is thus the narrow-mindedness or parochialism of Nazareth which is exacerbated by Jesus’ allusion to Elijah and Elisha’s blessing of Gentiles and causes their anger. Alternatively, some exegetes argue that the rage of Jesus’ hometown was caused by Jesus’ self-claims and their unwillingness to believe in them. The present paper challenges those common interpretations of the pericope and makes an alternative proposal to explain the conflict in Nazareth. To do so, it is divided into three parts. The first part re-examine the common explanations of this passage and demonstrates that they fail to offer a coherent reading of this pericope. The second part then re-examines the meaning of the proverb “Physician, Heal Yourself” in the context of ancient parallels, and shows that—unlike what has been asserted—its usage in antiquity does not support the common interpretations of this passage. Finally, in light of the preceding analysis, the last part of the essay offers a new interpretation of the sequence of thought in Luke 4:22–30, highlighting the function of the proverb in the narrative, and showing how it coheres with Jesus’ allusion to the ministry of Elijah and Elisha. It then concludes by tentatively suggesting another explanation for the offense taken by the crowds in Nazareth. It shall be argued that the proverb “Physician, heal yourself”—while not reflecting the parochialism or scepticism of the inhabitants of Nazareth—nonetheless captures the very essence of the dilemma between Jesus and his own people.

Interpreters who read the book of Proverbs observe tensions in the ways statements within it characterize wealth and poverty and the rich and the poor. Many conclude that these statements are inconsistent, some that they are incoherent. The most common strategy of accounting for the apparent tensions has been to determine that different sayings originated in different social locations. A less common approach has been to identify either sub-discourses or lexical fields that have different things to say about wealth and poverty and the rich and the poor because each sub-discourse or lexical field is concerned with, and geared toward, different matters. I suggest in this paper that a conceptual approach leads to greater clarity regarding statements in the book of Proverbs that mention wealth and poverty and the rich and the poor. I use the interpretive framework developed by Ronald Langacker to arrive at greater clarity in this discussion. Axiomatic in his approach is that linguistic meaning is more than what is said (or written): “an expression’s meaning is not to be found ‘in its words’” (Langacker 2010: 97). It “involves both conceptual content and a particular way of construing that content” (Langacker 2008: 44). Words are prompts for the elaborate processes of meaning construction (conceptualization) we undertake whenever we hear or read something expressed in human language. In order to make sense of words, conceptualizers must access relevant background knowledge, properly construe conceptual content, and implicitly apprehend the context in all its dimensions (linguistic, physical, social, cultural). Importantly, relevant context includes the discourse surrounding an expression and the speech event itself. I characterize the sayings in Proverbs as literary speech events and argue that conceptions evoked throughout the book are factors in the ways that wealth, poverty, the rich, and the poor are construed in its collections. These other conceptions figure critically in determining which cognitive domains the producers of Proverbs most probably intended to activate and thereby use to shape and render their sayings coherent. The speech-event nature of Proverbs is equally important because, as Langacker explains, “the speaker and hearer are always part of the conceptual substrate supporting an expression’s meaning” (2008: 78). The speech event itself, in other words, and certain conceptions associated with it, are each a cognitive domain and, as such, also figure critically in the meanings of expressions. We gain insight into sayings in Proverbs by keeping in mind the schematic conception of the speaker and hearer as teacher and learner, and then theorizing about the nature and intent of their interaction. I submit that the teacher, schematically conceived, intended for the hearer, also schematically conceived, to learn from the examples of onstage saying-participants by objectively construing himself (the learner) as either one of the focal participants or as a bystander who is supposed to come to a right judgment about onstage actions and events.

This paper surveys current trends in the cognitive and neuroscientific study of empathy and considers how they inform the understanding of the role of empathy in biblical literature. Inspired by the work of Frans de Waal, the pioneering monograph of Thomas Kazen (2011) examined the role of empathy in the ethical dimension of biblical law. The first part of this paper will extend Kazen’s approach, exploring how multi-layered (de Waal) and multi-dimensional (Decety) models of empathy stand up against empirical evidence and how the complexities of textual transmission and readers’ perspectives factor into the use of empathy in the creation and application of biblical laws. Examples from the New Testament (Golden Rule, Good Samaritan) will be added to the previously discussed Pentateuchal materials. The second part of the paper looks at the limitations of empathy as a basis of moral behavior and considers recent arguments against the universalistic approach advocated by de Waal and evolutionary science. (1) Recent developments in the study of the Theory of Mind (Goldman/Shanton 2015) suggest that our understanding of other people’s thoughts and emotions (as well as our understanding of the past) is largely determined by our momentary cognitive and emotional state. (2) Social relationships (between organisms) can be analyzed as opportunities for exploitation rather than altruism (Jones 2007) and empathy in this framework is part of Machiavellian intelligence. (3) Morality as understood in the Western world is possibly a fairly recent cultural phenomenon, related to the spread of literacy (Decety & Cowell 2014). These challenges to the conventionally assumed connection between empathy and morality will be illustrated using selected examples from the Gospels and Pauline epistles. Finally, the question will be raised as to how far biblical literature can be considered a source of moral values in light of the foregoing analysis.

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Feminist and conventional readings alike have compared Susanna to other heroines and even heroes from antiquity; Judith, Esther, Joseph and David are especially prominent in the list, but Ruth, Persephone and still more exotic figures have also been invoked. This paper suggests another heroine for comparison: Lucretia, hailed by Valerius Maximus as dux Romanae pudicitiae. The two narratives offer some striking similarities. Both appear in multiple versions; both are stories about rape and especially the threat of rape; both focus on the dilemma presented to the heroine and the choice she must make; both women are matronae and married; both rapists (the judges, Sextus,) possess social and political power; both husbands are rather exiguous (Joakim, Collatinus); both fathers (Helkiah, Lucretius) play at least as important a role as the women’s husbands; in both stories, sexual predation is an index of political corruption; both women become exempla of chastity. Both stories affirm political change; in both that change constitutes an internal shift of power; both women are championed by a hitherto untried youth (Daniel, Brutus) who is not the woman’s husband; both endorse the youth’s emerging career and signal (or imply) the passing of leadership to a new generation. There is of course a radical contrast between them as well; for Lucretia, the only solution requires her death; Susanna triumphs over the fate she herself expected. Yet from the perspective of most interpreters Susanna does not emerge as a feminist heroine. This paper accepts that judgment, but also argues that, if Lucretia’s role is to affirm the patriarchal control of female fertility as the internal other, Susanna’s gender functions not to assert the sexual status quo (though it is assumed), but to represent the vulnerable yet victorious self, and the conviction that all Jews, including women, children and slaves, should know the law and practice the virtue it teaches.

Contemporary interpretations of Gen. 2: 22-24 are often done from Western individualistic perspective, with no attention paid to the African concept of kinship and family. The consequence of this is marital conflict between spouses and their relatives which, some of the times, leads to divorce. Among the Yoruba, like most other Africans, marriage goes beyond the union of two individuals; it is a union of families and also a means of extending the frontiers of kinship. A man, for example, is said to marry into the family instead of leaving the family to start an independent family unit. Therefore, this paper explores how this text can better be interpreted in the light of the African (Yoruba) understanding of kinship and family. Two principal words in the selected text -leaving and cleaving- are often interpreted to mean a total break from the extended family kinship. Does the text actually advocate a break from the extended family tradition as being promoted in some interpretations? What are the real life consequences of the interpretations that neglected the traditional African (Yoruba) concept of marriage? How can the text be interpreted using African cultural and epistemological resources to address the problems arising from the misinterpretations and misapplications of the selected text? Finding answers to these questions will be the focus of this paper. It must however, be noted that the paper is premised on the African cultural hermeneutics which reads the Bible from a premeditated Africentric perspective.

In the last decade, several scholarly and journalistic works have emerged concerning religion’s role in society, with studies demonstrating religion’s social benefits neck and neck with those detailing its detrimental effects and delusional premises. In this paper, I examine how situating religion as a significant component in cultural evolution can elucidate its role in social development, particularly for periods of significant social, political, and economic transformations. I demonstrate my argument through presenting a long-term analysis of the myths and rituals surrounding deities worshiped across the Near Eastern and Mediterranean worlds as the Queen of Heaven. I focus in particular on the Queen of Heaven’s specific manifestations in the Iron Age Mediterranean (ca. 1000-500 BCE), contextualized against her broader evolution as a deity connected to political power and economic prosperity. I adopt two major theoretical orientations from social psychology and sociology to apply to the evolution of the Queen of Heaven and her role in social development: 1) theories put forth, most recently, by Ara Norenzayan (Big Gods: How Religion Transformed Cooperation and Conflict; 2013), that see religions focused on “big gods” as integral to growing social complexity through their ability to engender social cooperation and cohesion; and 2) the seminal study by Robert Bellah (Religion in Human Evolution; 2011) that situates religion as a powerful medium through which societies across Eurasia articulated novel worldviews with far-reaching socio-political implications in the Axial Age (ca. 800-200 BCE). The Queen of Heaven, worshiped over several millennia from Mesopotamia to Spain, took numerous names – notably Aphrodite and Hera among the Greeks – and was connected to multiple domains, particularly kingship and divine sovereignty, but also warfare, seafaring, sexuality, and prosperity. I begin my paper with an overview of the evolution of the Queen of Heaven’s socio-political associations through her manifestations in Bronze Age literary (Akkadian, Ugaritic, and Linear B) and iconographic sources. I use this overview to contextualize her appearance in the Iron Age, focusing on votive iconography from the sanctuary of Aphrodite at Naukratis, a trading port in the Nile Delta given to the Greeks by the Egyptian pharaoh in the sixth century BCE (Herodotus 2.178-179). Through relating the cross-cultural associations apparent in the worship of Aphrodite at Naukratis to her epithet at this site, "pandemos" (“All the People”), I argue that the cultural evolution of the Queen of Heaven reveals a medium through which increasingly complex Mediterranean societies articulated and enacted ideas of sovereignty in the Axial Age while simultaneously fostering social cohesion with one another across cultural, ethnic, and political boundaries. The application of models from sociology and social psychology as outlined above can thus allow us to articulate specific mechanisms in the evolution of religious worship that both reflected and structured growing social complexity. Finally, such approaches can help us move away from treating religion as an isolated category of analysis and instead move us towards approaches that consider how the evolution of religious systems factored into broader social, economic, and political shifts in human history.

This paper examines kinship framework and language in the directives for leadership in early Christianity communities of Ephesus, aiming to curb the influence of false teachers and bolster mutual support in the membership. It investigates direct appeal to responsible household management, portraits of natural and fictive kinship, and group dynamics couched in filial parlance in the leadership correspondence (1 Timothy). The Greek text will be examined carefully against the background of Greco-Roman conventions on kinship and use of kinship lexemes in relation to leadership. The study of the household code alongside other references to kinship in the prism of Christian leadership will lead to new and perhaps alternate insights regarding how we read the institutional structure of the house churches, even the notion of monarchical leadership. The manner in which fictive and natural kinship are utilized will receive critical attention in the quest also to answer the question: Does fictive kinship override natural kinship or are there interface of the two to harness group identity and group dynamics?

Numerous scholars—such as Rolf Rendtorff and Baruch Levine—have compared the priestly legal texts in the Pentateuch to ancient Near Eastern ritual texts. However, rather than being belong to the genre of descriptive or prescriptive ritual texts, the priestly legal material more generally corresponds to the casuistic law codes, which was dedicated in the ancient Near East to civil law. In this paper, I would like to adduce some of the affinities these biblical passages exhibit in form, genre, and content to some of the casuistic Greek “Sacred Laws” inscribed on stone and other materials throughout the eastern Mediterranean basin from the sixth century B.C.E. onwards. An examination of related Northwest-Semitic and Punic texts, as well as potential precedents from the Hittite world further contributes to our understanding of the Sitz im Leben of the Pentateuchal priestly law.

Diversity in the religious practices of the peoples of ancient Israel and Judah has been exhaustively documented by Ziony Zevit. Yet with each site excavated in the region, more elements of that complexity are revealed. The same is true of Israel’s neighbors, especially Ammon, Moab and Edom to the east. This paper is an investigation of the iconographic traditions represented in plastic art, with a focus on anthropomorphic and zoomorphic images and their distribution across the social landscape. Both the representation of deities and their attribute animals and the concentrations of these images in one or more town, temple and shine sites point to shared religious beliefs and ethnic cohesion. Like Israel, a considerable amount of variety is seen in and among what we consider to have been individual yet related kingdoms, revealing cultural complexity in religious belief systems. A certain amount of shared imagery between sites in Moab and Judah, especially with Jerusalem, Horvat Qitmit and ‘En Haseva, adds to this complexity.

Toni Morrison’s Beloved and the book of Judges in their own way both represent failed or at best stalled nationalist narratives of liberation. Morrison uses the house “124" as a signifier of black nationalist aspirations. As a way station on the Under Ground Railway, “124" provides a site for black struggles from slavery and the freedom to thrive. In the novel that same site of liberation witnesses the deformation of black women’s bodies whether through infanticide, remembered physical traumas, mental instability, or spectral body transformations; all part of the legacies of slavery. The novel Beloved ruptures the black nationalist discourse to focus attention on black women’s bodies and the way the violence that attends those bodies interrupts liberation. In Judges the quest to achieve possession of the land from the Canaanites advances slowly with spotty military victories. The vision of liberation hardly materializes in the book, especially for women. That the book ends with the abduction of women from Jabesh-Gilead/Shiloh to ensure the territorial integrity of Benjamin and by extension ancient Israel indicates the limits of liberation particularly as it relates to women’s bodies. This paper uses the notion of the failed nationalist liberative discourse present in Beloved to interrogate the nationalist discourse present in the book of Judges or the one customarily thought to exist in the book. This examination takes place in the context of the scholarly framing of Judges as a part of the historical narrative of the Deuteronomistic History that either provides justification or criticism of the monarchy in general or the Davidic monarchy more specifically. By attending to the fate of women’s bodies in the book of Judges in the way that Morrison forces readers to do with black women’s bodies in Beloved, this paper shows how Judges may not serve the authenticating function for a particular national formulation for the monarchy. Rather women’s bodies in Judges - whether as killers, seducers, sacrificed, dismembered, or abducted - disrupts the notion of the nation founded upon the ideal of liberation. The paper goes further to draw insights from various critiques of black nationalist liberative discourse from thinkers such as bell hooks to explore alternative conceptions of community discourses that may be present in the book of Judges.

In 2001 my monograph Descenders to the Chariot: The People Behind the Hekhalot Literature was publish by Brill. The Hekhalot literature is a corpus of Jewish mystical texts composed mainly in Babylonia and Palestine in the Geonic era, but which drew on traditions from late antiquity and perhaps earlier, and which continued to be shaped when transmitted to Europe in the Middle Ages. The texts present Tannaitic rabbis as practitioners of a form of mysticism (“Merkavah mysticism”) in which they undertook ritual and ascetic practices that led them into visionary states in which they could ascend to heaven to see and participate in the angelic liturgy around God’s throne-chariot (the Merkavah) or call down angels from heaven who could reveal the secrets of Torah and other mysteries to the practitioners. The meaning of this literature was and is debated, with some taking it as entirely fictional exercises in scriptural exegesis and others arguing that it (also) described an actual visionary praxis. Descenders to the Chariot presented a case for the latter viewpoint. In this volume I drew on anthropological data concerning Siberian, Inuit, Native American, and Japanese shamans, as well as the anthropological theoretical literature on shamanism, to argue that the descenders to the chariot — the practitioners described in the Hekhalot literature — displayed significant parallels to the shamans of other cultures and could be profitably compared to them. I argued that like shamans, the descenders to the chariot (1) were elected at least partly through their heredity; (2) engaged in a recognizable complex of ascetic and ritual techniques that promoted altered states of consciousness; (3) endured an experience of initiatory disintegration and reintegration; (4) traveled to a multi-tiered otherworld via a world tree or world ladder; (5) focused much of their efforts on the control of helping spirits; and (6) served their human community by various means. I found an especially useful typology of practitioners in the work of Michael Winkelman and concluded that the descenders to the chariot were very similar to his “shaman/healer,” a type of shamanic practitioner found in complex agricultural and pastoral societies. My central conclusion was that the instructions and rituals in the Hekhalot literature were recognizably of the type used by shamans to generate visionary experiences and that the visions described in the Hekhalot literature were of the type reported by shamans. Although the literature is pseudepigraphic and the illustrative stories it tells are fictional, it is a literature of instruction that preserves rituals that were used by actual magico-religious practitioners. In the fourteen years since the publication of this volume a number of scholars have engaged with the arguments and conclusions of Descenders to the Chariot. The purpose of this paper is to review the responses, along with my own reflections, and evaluate where the case for the Hekhalot literature as the literary residue of a quasi-shamanic intermediary movement stands today.

Malachi 2.10-13 is often interpreted as a complaint against idolatry. The passage, however, may also contain an atypical form of the prophetic marriage metaphor, in which God is male and Israel is female. In honor of the work of Dr. Randall Bailey and placing African American biblical hermeneutics in conversation with queer theory and masculinity studies, I propose to read the passage in Malachi 2 as an example of the queering of the heterosexual marriage metaphor. God's personification as male and the lack of Judah's personification as female suggests a same-sex marriage metaphor. My argumentation will be based on the Hebrew text and the application of theory and conclude with implications for the text's use in marginalized communities. If this passage in Malachi 2 need not be read in heteronormative terms, then more opportunities for religious discourse about broader views of marriage and intimacy that are not limited to a gender binary become possible.

The Yale Monastic Archaeology Project (YMAP) currently sponsors work at two monastic centers in Egypt: the White Monastery near Sohag in the south, and Wadi al-Na?run (ancient Scetis) in the north. The study of manuscripts at these sites has presented exciting possibilities—and has raised complex challenges—related to digital access and cultural heritage. Accordingly, this paper will consist of two main parts and two areas of focus. First, I will report on our work at the White Monastery, where excavations in December 2011 yielded the discovery of manuscript fragments in the monumental Church of St. Shenoute. This discovery served as a catalyst for a series of research steps that began with archaeological analysis and photo-documentation supported by the local inspectors (mufattishin) representing the Egyptian Supreme Council of Antiquities, and that culminated with the digitization of the fragments and their publication online at Yale’s Egyptological Institute website. Second, I will report on my work cataloguing the Coptic and Arabic manuscripts in the library at the Monastery of the Syrians in Wadi al-Na?run, a project started in December 2013. In the case of the Monastery of the Syrians, the goal of digitization has been complicated by monastic concerns related to cultural heritage and the control of manuscript content in the digital age.

Some commentators (e.g., Hagner, Harrington, and Davies and Allison) stress the parallelism between the centurion’s request for his paralyzed servant (Matt 8:5-13) and the Canaanite woman’s request for her demonized daughter (Matt 15:21-28). Thus, Matthew upholds God’s election of and faithfulness to Israel while simultaneously praising the great faith of the two Gentiles, a faith that results in Jesus granting the Gentiles’ requests and authorizing the Gentile mission. However, recent works have challenged such a limited reading (e.g., Glenna Jackson maintains that the story describes the acceptance of the woman as a proselyte in the synagogue, and Musa Dube reads the story as an example of imperialist values and women’s oppression). I propose that each Matthean alteration to the Markan story contributes to the meaning of the whole. The identification of the woman as a Canaanite should be understood in conjunction with the woman’s verbal plea: “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David” (v.22; cf. Mark 7:25). In contrast to equating the woman’s cry with the centurion’s request for healing solely on the basis that the two characters are Gentiles, her words, unique for a Gentile in Matthew, should be understood as the exact opposite of the Deuteronomist’s stipulation that the Israelites must not show mercy to the Canaanites (Deut 7:2). By deleting “Let the children first be fed” (Mark 7:27), the Matthean Jesus gives no indication that the Gentile “dogs” might be fed subsequent to the children. Finally, in Matthew the woman’s return home is not described (cf. Mark 7:30); we are simply told that the daughter is instantly healed at Jesus’s command (v.28). In Matthew the Gentile mother is a “Canaanite” because, as Niels Lemche has demonstrated, the term is representative of Israel’s enemy in the Deuteronomistic History and the rest of the Pentateuch. The demon-possessed daughter in the Matthean account is an allusion to the rationale behind the Deuteronomistic command to utterly destroy the indigenous peoples during the Israelite conquest of the land. The Deuteronomist warrants such genocide on the basis that Israelite intermarriage with the daughters and sons of pagans would result in the worship of foreign gods. The mere existence of the Canaanite mother and daughter is representative of Israel’s failure to obey the Deuteronomistic command as the story is described in the biblical tradition. The Matthean Jesus initially ignores and then rejects the woman’s plea because, in keeping with the tradition, his mission is solely for “the lost sheep of Israel” (15:24). Jesus’s hesitation highlights the community’s fear of religious defilement. However, Jesus reforms the tradition by highlighting personal intention and faithfulness and goes far beyond merely authorizing a Gentile mission. The woman is not to remain as she was with the exception that her daughter is now demon-free (cf. Mark 7:29-30). Rather, the Canaanite woman can now eat from the master’s table without becoming a proselyte to Judaism (contra Jackson). The primary message is the destruction of previous differences that included or excluded one from the Kingdom of God.

In her recent study of the Garden of Eden story, Ellen A. Robin argues that the serpent should not be seen as a villain as the history of interpretation has made him to be (105-109). She further claims that, differently from the perspective of modern readers, the ancients did not view snakes in a negative light, citing Num 21; 2 Kings 18 in support (111). The present paper will tackle the question as to whether the na?aš in the Garden story was meant to be taken as malevolent or benevolent. The paper will be divided into three main sections. The first will show that the serpent had, indeed, become a villain in the history of its reception in both Jewish and Christian sources. However, even here, in some sources, the serpent can be seen in a positive light (see gnostic texts). The second part will also briefly show that, in the mythology and iconography of the Ancient Near East, the serpent can be seen either in a positive or negative way. As such, Robin’s claim would be partially correct. This mix representation of the symbol of the serpent shows how complex the presence of the na?aš in the Garden was for the ancient audience, while also testifying to the literary skills of the ancient author. The third section will show that, despite the ambiguity of the symbolism of the serpent, the ancient author did cast the na?aš in a negative way: (a) through what Eve says: “the serpent deceived me” and (b) in the punishment of the serpent: “you will strike his heel.” With another recent study (see Ziony Zevit, What Really Happened in the Garden?), this paper will show that to “strike the heel” points to the serpent malevolent motivations.

No lexicographer can write entries without a proper semantic analysis of the available data. This is a fact that few people will dispute. Ideally, all passages where a given lexeme is found should be studied in context in an effort to determine its lexical and contextual meanings, which are then rendered in some form in the language used by the intended audience of the dictionary. The key question that will be addressed in this paper is the following: How important is the semantic structure of the language of the audience for the semantic analysis presented in a dictionary? This question never received much attention in traditional lexicography of Biblical languages until David J. Clines addressed it in his introduction to the first volume of the Dictionary of Classical Hebrew, where he claimed that “our perception of senses is often dependent on the semantic structure of the English language.” This paper wants to discuss this issue in detail, and the author wants to use examples from the Semantic Dictionary of Biblical Hebrew -- for which he is the editor -- to illustrate how too much attention to the structure of the target language can blur important semantic distinctions in the source language. Special attention in this discussion will be given to the Hebrew particle 'akh.

Strategic references to the Qur’an in rhetorical argument is a vital way for politicians to construct analogies between paradigmatic characters in the Qur’an and people in their own social milieu in order to persuade an audience of the moral value of particular political attitudes and actions. My paper examines Qur’anic referencing in letters attributed to the Caliph al-Ma’mun (r. 813-33) promulgating his famous reform policy known as the mihna (test), ostensibly to enforce the doctrine of the createdness of the Qur’an. The letters, most fully preserved in al-Tabari’s History, are rich with Qur’anic references, not only verbatim quotations of doctrinal proof-texts, but also paraphrastic allusions to scriptural characters and themes that situate the mihna policy as a whole in the salvific worldview of the Qur’an. In the course of my presentation, I will argue that Qur’anic referencing in political rhetoric essentially functions as analogical (qiyasi) exegesis by establishing likeness between referents in the Qur?anic text-context and referents in the political-rhetorical context. The goal is to secure the audience’s assent, if not to any literal likeness, then to the imaginative relationship established in the analogical figure and to the conclusion that emerges from it. Working from classical Arabo-Islamic rhetorical theories (e.g. al-Farabi and Ibn Rushd), I explain the two basic classes of rhetorical analogy—the example (mithal) and the enthymeme (?amir)—and their structure and significance in Qur’anicized rhetoric. An example implies that if two particular subjects are alike in one respect, then they should be alike in other respects as well. By confirming a particular with another particular via a universal common to both, a rhetorical example using the Qur’an can give us insight into perceived “universal principles” in the Qur’an, a crucial—if elusive—hermeneutical category for many Qur’an exegetes. Examples are basically validated through the logic of enthymeme. An enthymeme is an abridged syllogism in which one of the two premises (usually the more “universal” major premise) is omitted. Most grammatical techniques for integrating Qur’anic references into political speech, especially meddling with the internal grammar of a Qur’anic verse, result in condensed forms of enthymeme, because of the linguistic interweaving within a single utterance of major premises (with referents from the Qur’an text) and minor premises (with referents from the political circumstance). The effective meaning of the Qur’anic reference is thus inextricably bound up with circumstance in which it is uttered. In the mihna letters, Qur’anic proof-texts are given to demonstrate al-Ma’mun’s knowledge in interpreting the scripture, while more allusive references are made to analogize his role as caliph with the Qur’anic paradigm of the rightly guided leader, the deviance of those targeted in his test with the errors of the Qur’anic disbelievers, and the mi?na itself with the prophetic mission to correct error and enforce right guidance.

This 'theory-framed' paper takes its starting point in the concept of 'rereading', as developed within literature studies, seminally so by Matei Calinescu ("Rereading", 1993). This concept of 'rereading' (not to be confused with the historical-critical concept of 'rélecture') has hardly been employed in biblical studies (maybe the only true example is Karolin Lewis, "Rereading the 'Shepherd discourse'", 2008). Biblical studies' use of 'rereading' seems to have been developed against the background of the hermeneutics of liberation theology. Nevertheless, the most common use of 'rereading' is simply linked to its dictionary meaning, maybe with the exception of the work of Ehud Ben Zvi who has developed his own use. After surveying the use of 'rereading' in literature studies and biblical studies, this paper contours a hermeneutics of rereading contributing to contextual theology with emphases on the prevailing actuality of Scripture, the aspect of community in biblical interpretation, and the attitude of attentive (slow) reading.

The present paper seeks to explore the role of the Isaianic visions of a peaceful future in the composition of the Isaiah scroll. The main argument of the paper is that the reality of war was one of the most influential factors in the formation of Isaiah, and thus the relationship between visions of war and peace provides significant clues for the interpretation of the book and fresh insights regarding the history of its reception. The Book of Isaiah is well known for its awe-inspiring images of a future of lasting peace. They have been instrumental in the construction of eschatologies, apocalyptic visions and political utopias. A survey of these images will reveal that they represent different historical moments in the growth of the Isaianic tradition. Yet, their form, content and placement in the book indicate that there are unifying themes, motifs and ideological underpinnings that bring them together. The paper will present a broad synopsis of the visions of future peace in the different sections of the book, suggesting a rationale for their placement. Closer attention will be given to elements of chapters 33-34; 59:15b-63:16; and 65-66. The analysis will take into account and evaluate recent proposals as to the significance of these sections for the composition of the book, such as those of Beuken (1989), Gosse (1990; 1994; 2001, 2008), Gregory (2007), Lynch (2008), Stromberg (2009), and Schuele (2014). Visions of future peace in Isaiah have often been described as “eschatological”, and much work has been devoted to ascertaining whether this is an adequate category to designate some or all of these texts. An important element of our proposal is to offer a different angle to approach the imagery of peace. Rather than starting with the question of eschatology, we begin with the basic observation that all the visions of future peace in Isaiah appear in contrast to equally powerful visions of wartime violence. The imagery of war is here taken as part of the cultural memory shared by the different Isaianic authors, who may or may not have lived through actual conflicts, but who have a perception of the reality of war derived from their cultural milieu. Whereas the visions of peace represent imagined scenarios, the images of violence represent ever impending possibilities, and are closely linked with the actual social experiences of the authors and redactors. The Isaianic visions of peace are “hopeful responses” to concrete experiences and cultural perceptions of violence in contexts of war. The volatile and violent contexts of those responsible for the growth and transmission of the Isaiah tradition led to the ascription of great significance to the hope of a peaceful future and led to the placement of the peace visions at key junctures of the scroll. It is expected that this study will contribute to a renewed understanding of the formation of the Isaiah scroll and of the origins and development of eschatology.

The portrayal of the righteous king in LXX Isa 32:1-8 displays some noteworthy differences from the Masoretic version of the same passage. In this paper, I attempt to highlight and explain these differences. My starting point is a comparative analysis between the Greek and Hebrew versions of the oracle, having established that the Hebrew is similar to a proto-Masoretic text form. The analysis will deal with lexical and syntactical choices, reading strategies of the translator, and intertextual relationships between LXX Isaiah 32 and the LXX of the Pentateuch, Psalms, and Amos. After the analysis, the paper deals briefly with shifting perceptions of kingship from biblical times to the Second Temple period, in order to identify notions that might have influenced the translation. It is our contention that the deviating rendering of LXX Isa 32:1-8 has been shaped in line with theological and political tendencies which can be perceived in different strands of early Judaism. This study also serves as a contribution to an ongoing debate in the field of LXX Isaiah, namely, the proper understanding of what “actualizing” interpretation means. It is well known that two diametrically opposing views have become standard. On the one hand, the approach of authors such as Arie van der Kooij, who sees a high degree of theological and ideological transformation and an effective attempt to recreate independent oracles in Greek. On the other, the view championed by authors such as Ronald Troxel and J. Ross Wagner, who eschew the idea of actualizing interpretation altogether. The present analysis of Isaiah 32:1-8 indicates that both extreme views have problems that need to be addressed. In fact, it shows that an alternative model for understanding the phenomenon of actualizing interpretation needs to be developed. This model flows from the exegetical work with the passage, but also takes into account some recent developments in literary theory, critical studies and anthropology.

The reception history of the letter to the Romans indicates how often readers of the letter are preoccupied with its theme of justification by faith. As a result its pronouncements on love are treated as a subsidiary motif and then mostly approached from an ethical perspective. The focal point of this approach is the practical exhortations in the last chapters, and, especially, Romans 13:8-10 about love as fulfillment of the law. Dunn’s theology of the Pauline letters, for example, extensively discusses the role of love in Pauline ethics, but otherwise hardly refers to other important dimensions of love. This relative lack of attention to love in the letter as a whole is also affected by equally limited attention in scholarly research to love in the New Testament. The paper will investigate love as a central motif in Romans as background for his comments on love as fulfillment of the law. The paper will, firstly, research its references to love (Rom.1:1-7; 5:5, 8; 8:28, 35, 37, 39; 9:13; 12:9-10; 13:8, 10; 14:15; 15:30), taking into account other words from the semantic field of love, affection and compassion (as found in Louw & Nida’s Lexicon). It will, secondly, investigate the divine nature of love, analyzing love as a foundational aspect of the divine character, but also as divine action that has an originary character which qualifies and drives God’s salvific actions (Rom.1:7; 5:5; 8:37; 15:30). This will include an investigation of the Christological nature of love (Rom. 5:8, 8:39, cf. 8:32, 34 and 35). In a third section, the relational nature of love, flowing from its divine nature, will be investigated, revealing how love is about the divine outreach to and bond with humanity. The intimate, reciprocal nature of love (Rom.8:28), is a formative factor on Christian identity. In its transformative power (Rom.8:39) it has major implications for the lived experience of believers. The indestructible, powerful presence of love with its resting, secure and irrevocable nature brings about an experience of peace, of joy and of celebration (Rom. 11:25-36), but also represents, complements and completes the law as covenant of love (Rom.13:8-10). The relationship of love and law will be discussed in the final part of the paper. It will investigate how comprehensively and radically Paul portrays the law and its commandments in terms of love (Rom.12-13) and how his ethical instructions about love as fulfillment of the law is to be understood in terms of the seminal place of love in the letter as a whole. This analysis will apply recent scholarly criticism of the distinction between indicative and imperative, with its tendency towards moralizing love. The commandment to love does not merely follow upon and is based upon love, but is the necessary reflection of being conformed to the likeness of God’s character and actions in the divine Son (Rom. 8:29), that is, to having been renewed into a self-giving love to one’s community, but also to enemies (Rom. 12:10; cf. 1-2, 9, 13, 14-21).

The aim of this paper is to explore the fourth-century bishop John Chrysostom’s recommendations on dietary regimen, which, in turn, have implications for the sexuality and masculinity of his audience. I am specifically interested in masculine self-fashioning by means of regimen, as a subset of a larger project on the formation of masculinity in Chrysostom’s works. In the presentation, I firstly aim to highlight, albeit briefly, how Greek and Roman medicine informed the preacher’s dietary prescriptions. Secondly, I will examine more closely the diet Chrysostom gives to men (and women) in his congregation, by looking at the topos of the true Christian symposium ever-present in Chrysostom’s works. Finally, I will investigate the issue of fasting and gluttony as strategies for affirming or denying masculinity, particularly with a focus on the effect of both on the soul, whose state had very real and material effects on the health of the body – in both sections the link between eating and sexuality will be extrapolated. Thus, the first section of the paper highlights the influences on Chrysostom’s thought regarding dietary regimen, the second section of the paper focuses of the qualities of food (as related to sexual desire and/or self-control), while the third part looks at the quantities.

Gnostic rituals developed to as ceremonies to (1) awaken the spirit from unconsciousness, (2) to purge the soul of its demons, (3) to mature the fledgling spirit into an adult divinity, and (4) to integrate the mature spirit with its transcendent root. All in all, Gnostic groups were offering therapy for the separated spirit or divided self, a psycho-religious cure. In this paper, Gnostic therapeutic rituals of ascent and demonic purge will be examined in light of what we know about shamanic practices in the Mediterranean world.

At the 2014 annual SBL meeting, Delamarter and Jarod Jacobs presented a study of the textual history of the Ethiopic Song of Songs, performed as part of the work of the Textual History of the Ethiopic Old Testament (THEOT) project. That work was based on the knowledge that there was a longer and a shorter recension of the Ethiopic Song of Songs and that the Song was copied in at least three different types of manuscripts (Psalters, biblical manuscripts containing the Solomon corpus, and Lectionary for Passion Week, Gabra Haymamat). Thirty-two manuscripts were transcribed with some representatives from each of the recensions and types of manuscripts. A picture emerged that was clear enough to discern the general contours of the textual history and to clarify some general trends. At that point we could confirm the existence of the longer and shorter recensions and the transmission of those recensions in the three types of manuscripts. But through the process we became aware of the development of the second recension across time. Further, we became aware of the transmission of the Ethiopic Song in forms of manuscripts beyond the three we had known, and it became clear that in order to sort out the rest of the story about the developments in the various strands of the transmission history across time, we would have to increase our sample sizes nearer to thirty manuscripts for each manuscript type in the study. So we designed a follow up study with the goal to produce the data that would clarify with some precision the individual lines of transmission for the two recensions and also that would clarify in precise chronological terms the differentiation between the recensions and the patterns of usage of each in the Ethiopian tradition. In this presentation we will tell the story of our research on more than 100 manuscript, the methods by which we proceeded, and the results achieved.

There are number of similarities between Paul's vision of ethical living and that of the late Stoics. These include: the sinfulness of all humanity, the instantaneous change from sinner to saint or sage, the impossibility, or near impossibility of living ethically through one's own efforts, the necessity of actions, the insufficiency of actions, and the need for precepts and repeated admonitions rather than written laws. This paper explores how these individual similarities function within Pauline and Stoic ethical systems, and concludes that while Paul and the Stoics worked with a similar pool of assumptions, they arrived at different, but equally idiosyncratic, understandings of the ethical life.

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Child sacrifice in ancient Israel is a topic that has produced an enormous amount of scholarly literature. Most of this work has understandably been devoted to exploring the alleged practice of child sacrifice itself. Numerous articles and monographs have been devoted to the questions of whether children were ever sacrificed in ancient Israel; if so, whether they were sacrificed to Yahweh or to some other deity; how often such sacrifices would have occurred; what purpose they might have served; and so on. Less attention has been paid to the rhetoric of those Israelites who opposed the practice. While a blanket opposition to child sacrifice might seem natural and even obvious to modern readers, such condemnations in a society which had a history of practicing such rites, at least in some circumstances, calls for our attention. This paper examines the strategies employed in the oracles of both Ezekiel and Jeremiah, which unequivocally reject any legitimacy for the practice of child sacrifice. It will demonstrate that, although both collections of oracles condemn child sacrifice, their rhetoric differs significantly. In particular, the question of whether Yahweh ever commanded that children be sacrificed is addressed in both Ezekiel (Ezek 20:25-26) and Jeremiah (Jer 7:31; 19:5; 32:35). Interestingly, although both prophets agree that Yahweh has no desire for child sacrifice, they disagree as to whether he ever commanded it. This paper will show that their differences can be attributed to the different streams of tradition in which the Jeremiah and Ezekiel material participate, and at root spring from different conceptions of what constitutes authentic Yahwistic law. In this way, the lives of Israelite children came to hang on questions of biblical interpretation.

One of the critical challenges in teaching biblical and pseudepigraphical literature is how to help students, particularly undergraduates, become aware of their own interpretive biases. Often such self-awareness is difficult to achieve as students raised in biblically based religious traditions feel themselves to be thoroughly familiar with the text as they have heard countless sermons and teachings on the Bible. They are further, unwittingly hamstrung in literary-critical studies by inherited systems of theology causing them to alternately read into passages what is not there, anticipate and insert the arguments of much later authors or miss altogether critical interpretive details of a passage. On this account, such students have little inherent ability to appreciate the midrashic genius of the early Jewish apocalypticists who so adroitly exploited the textual gaps inevitably left by the biblical authors. They are slow to grasp the methodologies of the apocalypticists and therefore miss the significance of their import for the composition and reception of the New Testament. In an attempt to speed the process of self-discovery I have experimented with having students compose graphic novels on key biblical passages. In surfacing their own midrashic interpretations, this experiment has resulted in a much deeper engagement with the text and earlier, more profound appreciation for the contribution of the apocalypticists.

In “Destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah,” which is part of the permanent collection at Atlanta’s High Museum of Art, Henry Ossawa Tanner permits us to see with him what Lot’s wife saw. The painting depicts Genesis 19:23–26 as Lot and his family are entering Zoar in the early morning as God rains destruction upon the plain. The canvas is filled with a tumultuous and dark greenish-blue sky over a rolling terrain of neutral earth tones. Human figures appear small and indistinctly in the right corner. Great expanses of sky and land suggest the artist’s vantage point is far from the destruction, yet the perspective and tones convey a sense of awe rather than terror. In contrast to many other renderings of this moment, which use the warm and hot tones of fire and brimstone, the artist’s cool palette creates a strikingly somber and reflective scene. Henry Ossawa Tanner was the first African-American artist to be recognized internationally after moving to Paris to, in part, escape the racist climate in the United States. Born in Pittsburgh, PA, to an AME minister, he spent most of his formative years in the Philadelphia area, where he studied with Thomas Eakins, and later moved to Georgia. In this paper I will be using W. E. B. Du Bois’s concept of double consciousness and his findings on the role of religion in the African American experience to better understand Tanner’s devotion to biblical themes and his sensitive portrayal of them.

The court tales of Daniel are often overlooked in feminist biblical scholarship. With the exception of the brief appearance of the queen in Daniel 5, these short stories portray an all-male environment. Given the tendency of feminist biblical scholarship to focus on narrative texts with female characters, the absence of research on gender in the court tales of Daniel is partly explainable. In this paper, I address this gap in scholarship by answering this question: How are Daniel and his colleagues represented with respect to assumptions about masculinity in the socio-historical context in which the stories were composed? They have been defeated in war and exiled to serve in the court of a foreign king. Moreover, none of them marry or produce sons that could perpetuate their name. Thus, Daniel and his companions appear to deviate from a culturally pervasive construction of masculinity that entailed martial prowess and producing sons. However, I argue that scribal masculinity, which is attested in the ancient Near East and other portions of the Hebrew Bible, is crucial for understanding gender and the court tales of Daniel. I show that a scribal masculinity is produced in a negotiation with a culturally pervasive construction of masculinity in a way that reproduces widespread gendered ideologies. So, for example, whereas a more common construction of masculinity entailed displays of power through martial prowess or physical violence, a scribal masculinity was produced through powerful displays of knowledge. This exchange accepts an equation of masculinity with power and reproduces unequal categories of gender in the process. Thus, even as it deviates from a common cultural construction of masculinity, it is not necessarily subversive. Quite to the contrary, it is differently invested in the reproduction of gendered inequality. From this perspective, I contend that Daniel and his colleagues are differently masculine rather than non-masculine.

It may be a hackneyed misconception that the “Old Testament God” is wrathful while the “New Testament God” is loving, but the notion subtly persists even in scholarship. While many have been quick to highlight the love of God in the Old Testament, fewer have addressed the prevalence of the wrath of God in the New Testament. This problem is particularly relevant to the study of Romans, in which the term ???? appears more times than in any other NT book. C. H. Dodd famously argued that Paul’s concept of God’s wrath describes “an inevitable process of cause and effect in a moral universe” (Romans, 23). The punitive measures in Rom 1:18-32, e.g., are not God’s direct actions but rather God’s permission of sin’s natural consequences. Others have functionally followed suit, distancing Paul’s God from any semblance of personal punishment, a picture which stands in conflict with many accounts of God’s judgment in the Old Testament. But are there only two options: either Paul abandons the God of his Jewish scriptures for a more removed and therefore merciful God, or he uses wrath to describe the merciless belligerence of a “stormy Jehovah”? This paper argues that both pictures are distortions – both of Paul and of his Jewish scriptures. On the one hand, God’s wrath in Paul does indeed resemble many depictions of the “Old Testament God”; on the other hand, this wrath is not merciless in either case. This essay examines selected portions of Isaiah and the Psalms to explore how, both in these texts and in Romans, the wrath with which God punishes often promotes a greater goal of mercy: God’s wrath is not devoid of mercy but, somehow, consonant with it. A proper understanding of wrath in Romans then sheds light elsewhere, not least on Paul’s apparently enigmatic discussion of vessels of wrath and mercy in Romans 9-11.

Literary texts commonly invite affective responses in readers, which, in turn, influence their construal of meaning and shape their worldview. Using affective stylistics, a form of reader-response criticism developed by Stanley Fish, I propose to examine the emotional aspects of the complex intertextual appeal to Rachel’s tears in Matthew’s story of the massacre of the children of Bethlehem (Mt 2.16-18). Matthew’s fulfilment citation makes intertextual links with different emotionally charged situations. Matthew quotes Jeremiah (31.15) who comments on the Babylonian exile by evoking the memory of Rachel, a matriarch whose death during childbirth on the road to Bethlehem is narrated in the book of Genesis (35.16-20). In addition, there is a strong resonance with the book of Exodus (1.15-22) which narrates Pharaoh’s massacre of Hebrew boys. Each of these inter-texts emerges from contexts of suffering under foreign empires. What effects do these inter-texts produce in Matthew's readers? How is this affective appeal to Rachel’s tears meant to impact the reader’s response to Matthew’s story? One hypothesis is that the story of the Bethlehem massacre uses many levels of intertextuality as a rhetorical device to solicit an emotional response powerful enough to influence the reader’s world view. This narrative would, then, be an implicit critique of the abuse of imperial power. The complete barbarity of the situation invites the reader to seek justice elsewhere than from the negatively portrayed king. The reader of Matthew’s gospel eventually sees that like the other children of Bethlehem, Jesus was executed by the religious and political leaders in Jerusalem. In the end, there is an astonishing reversal. A new and unexpected life comes from a situation where there was nothing but certain death. Through the use of intertextual echoes, Matthew harnesses the affective punch which earlier narratives had produced in his audience in an effort to transform their worldview.

Childhood mortality rates in the biblical -- and, more generally, the pre-modern -- world were notoriously high: as many as half of all children did not live to see their tenth birthday. Yet, perhaps surprisingly, there are few explicit testimonies concerning parental grief over such deaths: ancient burial grounds offer at best ambiguous evidence for children's commemoration, and letters and speeches directed at those who had suffered bereavement encourage stoic self-possession in the face of tragedy. The latter was the case for ancient Christians as much as for their Jewish and Greco-Roman counterparts; indeed, the developing understanding of God as all-knowing and wholly just urged the further suppression of mourning in the face of divine wisdom, as sermons and treatises by, e.g., Gregory of Nyssa and Jacob of Serugh attest. In sharp contrast to such discourses of parental equanimity, however, stood homilists' treatment of bereavement or anticipated bereavement experienced by biblical characters. The stories of Eve and Adam, parents to the first prematurely deceased child as well as his murderer, of Job and David, and of the mothers of those infants killed by Herod in Matthew 2:16-18, reverberate through ancient Christian homily and hymn as the stories of parents' grief, outrage, and wrestling with divine providence. In the process, the biblical characters in question served as vehicles for expressing and, at times, appeasing the affective experience of bereaved parents in their exponents' communities. This paper examines one of the most productive and provocative accounts of the (near) death of a child: the Akedah, the "binding of Isaac" in Genesis 22, and the concomitant experiences of Abraham and Sarah. Early Jewish and Christian interpreters midrashically expounded themes of parental grief only incipient, or, in Sarah's case, entirely absent in the biblical text; in the process, their narratives came to legitimize and on occasionally liturgically subsume those of families confronting the death of a child in antiquity and subsequent eras.

This presentation will be a demonstration of the electronic version of the Keter and its application for research in the Masorah.

In 1814, a 63 year-old self-styled prophet scandalised London society by proclaiming that she was to give birth to miraculous child, and fulfil the enigmatic promise of Genesis 49:10. In the KJV, this text promises the emergence of a figure called “Shiloh” who shall bring about the “gathering of the people”. It subsequently became an important apocalyptic proof-text for the prophetic communities which make up the movement known as the Southcottian Visitation, whose geographical reach extended to America and Australasia in the 19th century. The exposition of Genesis 49:10's promises by prophetic claimants within the group's history formed the basis for individual and community identity, and provided a focal point for groups' praxis, their view of history, and eschatology. This paper explores how reflections on this text by successive communities in this religious sub-culture can show us how messianic and apocalyptic interpretations of biblical texts adapt to shifting historical contexts. By examining the interpretation of Genesis 49:10 in three distinct stages of the movement – from its founder, through prophets that emerged in the mid-19th century, to early 20th century readings of the text – I demonstrate how a sacred text within a prophetic movement becomes a palimpsest, with successive and competing interpretations becoming layered onto the text over the course of the movement's history. In the case of the Southcottian Visitation's interpretation of Genesis's “Shiloh” prophecy, this raises important hermeneutical questions: the gender identity of the messianic figure; the negotiation of rival translations of the text; the interaction between competing interpretations within a single movement. I argue that prophetic movements such as the Southcottians use the apparently “failed” interpretations of previous authoritative readers to creatively re-engage with apocalyptic promises to forge new readings and new prophetic identities. This has important ramifications for understanding how texts can become “apocalyptic”, and how they can continually invite and engender interpretations throughout their history, and how this interpretative activity – often within religious subcultures – is a vitiating force in their textual and cultural afterlife.

Even if according to Basil words do not contain the whole content of perceptions or thoughts, the biblical wording is the decisive instrument of the Holy Spirit for the education of the believers. The paper aims to deal with this pedagogical impact of the Bible, in which Basil is heavily dependent upon Origen's hermeneutics. Basil adapts not only philological methods of Origen's exegesis, but also inherits the persuasion from Origen that no detail in the biblical text is meaningless. Therefore he looks for the sometimes hidden hints to theological, anthropological and ethical teachings in the biblical text. He does not simply assume a verbal inspiration, but a direct influence of the Holy Spirit on the mind of the human authors, thus taking into account the historical context and the variety of language in the diverse biblical books. This makes Basil an important forerunner of an exegetical methodology that deals with the verbal sense of the biblical texts (subsumed later under the label „Antiochene exegesis“ – but, of course, this category has to be questioned). Behind the language use of the individual biblical authors, however, Basil recognizes a complex language use of the Holy Spirit and a plan of God that can be observed by the diverse readers and listeners of the Bible and its exegesis (in homilies and theological works). Only the subjugation of oneself to this intention of the Holy Spirit in a methodologically controled manner avoids using Scripture as base for arbitrary own assumptions (that result in being heretical). That’s why Basil rejects allegorical interpretations, but aims to detect a deeper sense that makes the biblical text fruitful for the listeners viz. readers of his works. This can be compared with the methodology of Origen who was more confident of a spiritual layer of Scripture that leads to the highest topics of theology. Thus, the interesting relationship of Basil's exegesis to Origen on the one side, to the so-called "Antiochene exegesis" on the other side can be elucidated more precisely. Within Basil’s work, the deep link between antiheretical and exegetical works can be focused.

During the 2010 excavation season of the 4th century CE Roman fort at ‘Ayn Gharandal (ancient Arieldela) in southern Jordan, work uncovered a large number of graffiti and dipinti on the walls of the fort’s associated bathhouse. Among them, to our surprise, was a crudely sketched chi-rho. The discovery of this symbol immediately raised the question of whether our fort, and the Roman military in southern Jordan, served as a social location for Christians in the 4th century. The fort and bathhouse at Gharandal were built some time between 293 and 305 CE, just at the time of Diocletian’s purported purge of Christians from the army and the last great persecution of Christian civilians, and occupied for a single century. The formal inscriptions in the officers’ headquarters of the fort itself speak to Gharandal as a location of official Roman religiosity, with references to Rome, Jupiter Ammon, and a priestess or other traditional religious official. Does the difference between the fort’s formal inscriptions and the bathhouse’s chi-rho graffito reflect the slippage between state sanctioned and individual religiosity? Or does this difference stem from the tumultuous religious changes witnessed during the 4th century, with the fort’s official inscriptions reflecting the proclivities of Diocletian at the time of its founding and the chi-rho signifying the opportunities made possible by Constantine’s Edict of Milan scant decades later? Surveys of Roman military sites on the Kerak plateau, north and east of Gharandal’s location in the Arabah valley, conclude that there is little evidence for significant Christianization of the army until the 5th or even 6th centuries. The situation in the Arabah appears to differ. Evidence from tombstones indicates that the local population, from among which the soldiers at Gharandal were likely recruited, were already converting to Christianity in significant numbers by the 4th century. The cities of Petra and Aila (modern Aqaba) were Gharandal’s primary trading partners, and each was the see of a 4th century Christian bishop. Finally, the accounts of Diocletian’s purge of the army and associated military martyr texts, regardless of their historical accuracy, testify to the compatibility of military service and Christian identity – at least for some. This paper argues that the Gharandal chi-rho, in conjunction with other archaeological, historical, and literary evidence, signals that the Roman army in southern Jordan was a viable social location of early Christians. The Roman military’s one hundred year occupation of Gharandal offers a unique opportunity to witness the changing religious landscapes of a turbulent century.

With the discovery of a new homily in Erfurt in 2007, the number of homilies Augustine preached on the feast of Cyprian now numbers 12 (Serm. 309, 310, 311, 312, 313, 313A, 313B, 313C, 313D, 313E, 313F, and 313G). Cyprian is a figure of great importance for Augustine as someone who, in Augustine’s De baptismo contra Donatistas, needed to be rescued from the Donatists’ claims that they were the living embodiment of his legacy rather than Caecilianists like Augustine. This focus is not evident in these homilies, where Cyprian himself could be little more than a launching pad for preaching on any topic at all, or where the Carthaginian bishop’s conversion and martyrdom could be presented as of imitative value for the local community. This paper will examine the images of Cyprian presented in Augustine’s homily, particularly 313E, where the Donatists are the object of Augustine’s preaching and where something more akin to what is found in De baptism could have been expected.

The account of the martyrdom of seven Jewish brothers, their mother, and teacher Eleazer before the Greek king Antiochus IV was a powerful narrative that circulated in the Second Temple period and was recorded in the literature of that time (2 and 4 Maccabees). Early Christians undoubtedly knew the tradition and presented the martyrs as exemplars of dying for one’s faith in a world that was hostile against them. The author of Hebrews clearly refers to this tradition and one can trace its influence on other New Testament writers. The goal of this paper is to argue for the Maccabean Martyr Tradition as a plausible background for the author of the Epistle to James’ comment in 5:10–11a: “As an example of suffering and patience, beloved, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord. Indeed we call blessed those who showed endurance” (NRSV). To do so, this paper offers a linguistically informed approach to identifying an allusion in a text. The result of this paper places the Epistle of James squarely within its first-century Jewish context and the tradition of using the Maccabean martyrs as exemplars of endurance and suffering.

This paper focuses on the reception of Ignatius as a "New Paul" by the fourth-century redactor and expander of the Ignatian epistles. The analysis will highlight the ways in which this pseudo-Ignatius employs Pauline imagery, language, and themes in constructing a version of Ignatius that looks even more like the apostle than the vision that had been cast by the bishop himself.

When Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote a series of biographical sketches of women of the Old and New Testament for the Christian Union her work became part of the growing body of women’s exegesis. While Stowe’s weaving of religion into her novels has long been noted and discussed, her earlier non-fiction work in evangelical presses and later work on the Bible has been largely ignored. What makes her a particularly interesting nineteenth-century exegete is that her work stands at the intersection of what male biblical scholars were producing for the academy and what male and female popular exegetes were producing for consumer audiences. Consequently, the first part of this paper analyzes how Stowe adapted and popularized a range of hermeneutic tools such as historical criticism, anthropology, and typology as well as how she weaved in popular nineteenth-century scientific theories and rhetoric to enhance rather than detract from the Bible’s divinity. Perhaps most intriguing about Stowe’s biblical portraits is that we can see in them Stowe’s plan for the advancement of women. As one of the most prominent women in nineteenth-century America, Stowe’s views on the woman question were highly sought after by the press and those intimately involved in the various woman’s movements of the day. Since Stowe never aligned herself with or became a spokesperson for any of these movements, her answers to the woman question are best ascertained through her 1870s publications, such as My Wife and I and Woman in Sacred History. This conference paper examines how Stowe re-interprets biblical women to raise the status of wives, mothers, and housekeepers, while simultaneously extending the boundaries of traditional domesticity and establishing multiple paths of progressive womanhood. Her exegesis, as my paper argues, is an interesting mix of biblical women’s narratives and nineteenth-century gender norms and cultures, which can only be understood within the context of the nineteenth-century woman question and growing concerns about the relevancy and veracity of the Bible. Through a close analysis of her biblical interpretations, we learn much more about Stowe’s world and the use she found in the Bible than we do the biblical women she tried to bring new relevancy and life to in Woman in Sacred History.

The emergence of private, voluntary forms of corporate organization (thiasoi, hetaireiai, etc.) can be seen as a characteristic feature of Mediterranean cities in the late Classical and Early Hellenistic period. It was also one of the elements of civic life that survived the Roman conquests. The relationship of this Graeco-Roman phenomenon to ancient Near Eastern forms of corporate organization has often been discussed, including the possibility of Greek influence. One of the concepts developed in this debate is the “Semitic thiasos” (“thiase semitique”). Information about this particular type of social formation includes formal aspects such as leadership and ideal size, but more importantly extends towards conclusions about the groups’ general character. It has been argued that Semitic thiasoi are marked by a “theocratic” form of organization that sets them apart from their Greek counterparts: according to this model, they were brought together by gods, not men, and their internal jurisdiction was based on religious instead of secular norms. The “Semitic thiasos” as a type is thus characterized (and distinguished from Greek and Roman associations) by the individual’s submission not to man-made statutes voluntarily agreed upon by members, but to a God-given social order. However, in contrast to Greek and Roman clubs, no “Semitic thiasos” has left a nomos thiasoton or lex collegii. The basic sources used for modeling the “Semitic thiasos” are honorific decrees issued by Syrian merchants on Delos, evidence relating to the Palmyrean marze?a, and very ambiguous lists of names from Dura Europos. To fill the gaps, important information has been taken from Jewish sources. The Qumran scrolls give important insights into the rules and regulations of the ya?ad, a late-Hellenistic Jewish movement that has often been compared to Greek and Roman associations. Rabbinic literature contains information about “fellowships” (?avurot) that have also been explained against the backdrop of non-Jewish associations. In a synthetic reading of Hellenistic and Roman evidence from the Aegean islands, Syria and Judea, all deviations of this material from Graeco-Roman patterns could be explained with the common Semitic background of all the groups in question. Based on a collection of all the data on private associations in the Hellenistic and Roman Near East carried out for the Copenhagen Associations Project Inventory, the paper presents a re-evaluation of this model. Faced with problems of taxonomy and postulates of historical interrelations, it is necessary to properly contextualize the epigraphic evidence, without a priori assuming a coherent Semitic, un-Greek type of associations. At the same time, the case for a more or less unified world of “Graeco-Roman associations” that reaches from Spain to Syria, recently put forward by a number of scholars, is also weak. If we take into account not only the formal structure of the groups, but also the question of group-society relations, differences between the Judean ya?ad, the Palmyrean marze?a and the Greek thiasos cannot be overlooked.

No Abstract

The Greek tradition presents a number of curious stories of the hopeless passion of an individual who attempts to sexually assault a statue, and, in the Phaedrus, Plato provides a curious description of how the dark horse of the soul tries to sexually assault the image of the beautiful beloved, only to be restrained by the reverent awe of the soul’s charioteer, who falls back, stunned by the vision of the beloved as by a divine image. Plato uses this image of two ways of treating an image as an illustration of how – and how not – to treat images in general, whether they be the image of beauty presented by the beautiful beloved or even images of wisdom and justice presented by the writings of a philosopher. In every case, the image must serve as a reminder, a stimulus to recollection and a track that marks the path that memory and reason must follow to arrive at truth, rather than something to be enjoyed as an end in itself. The proper treatment of an image is thus itself an image of the process of recollection, and the ritual actions of adornment, sacrifice, and following in a procession that are appropriate to the treatment of statues of gods become images, not just of how the lover should treat the beautiful beloved, but of how the orator should compose a speech and of the way the philosopher should treat all the images of divine truth that appear in the world. The graphic image of the horse sexually assaulting the boy is likewise an image of what can go wrong when an image is used not as a reminder but as a source of pleasure in itself. In the Phaedrus, then, Plato plays with the problematic status of images, employing some of his most vivid and memorable images to illustrate how images may be used philosophically in the process of recollection. Both the worship paid to the beloved icon and good speeches employ images and mnemonic associations to lead the follower, step by step, toward the truth. While Phaedrus fixes his desire upon the images, both the beloved boy and the speeches, Socrates uses these images as signs on his philosophic path, reminders of whence he has come and whither he is going.

This paper will survey Christian interpretations of the biblical verse, let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth (Song of Songs 1.1), from Origen (who takes the kiss to mean the direct communication of the true sense of scripture by the Logos) to Thomas Gallus (for whom it signifies intimate communion between the soul and the Word in a state of concentrated suspense). Other commentators will include Gregory of Nyssa, Gregory of Elvira, Honorius of Autun, Bernard of Clairvaux and Rupert of Deutz. The shift in understanding of the song will be shown to exemplify a more general shift from an Origenistic or Dionysian concept of the “mystical” as the true sense of the scriptures to the mediaeval concept of “mystical states” which may be cultivated by ascetic discipline and subjected to philosophic introspection. The paper will conclude with some remarks on the relation between the erotic and sexual in Platonism and in Christianity.

The purpose of this communication is to discuss a martyr tradition from the early eighth century, the stories of sixty martyrs executed by the Muslims in Palestine. The various version of this story share several important features - the martyrs are singled out for execution due to their particular role (as either soldiers or Byzantine citizens on pilgrimage), marking them out as different from the general Christian population of the Near East; their allegiance to Byzantium is stressed, but the stories remain otherwise silent regarding their sectarian identity, and their Muslim persecutors remain relatively neutral characters, apparently requiring their conversion for legal reasons, rather than due to personal or spiritual conviction. In this way, these stories present an important perspective on how the Christian Near East of Late Antiquity adapted to the rise of Islam and the emergence of Muslim rule.

This paper posits the “long seventh century” (570-705) as an incubation period, within late antiquity, for the articulation of later Islamic law and tradition in the 9th century. 570 CE marks the approximate birth date of the prophet Muhammad, the articulator of the first Near Eastern scripture in Arabic—the Qur’an. 705 CE marks the death of the Umayyad Caliph ‘Abd al-Malik b. Marwan, under whom Arabic language becomes the official language of administration in the region, and under whom Islamic identity begins to crystalize. This paper demonstrates that during this period the Qur’an is one among a handful of other interconnected sources of Near Eastern law and tradition, what I broadly dub “church canon.” This paper will explore about a dozen qur’anic terms and phrases, especially references to bodies of law and tradition in the long seventh century. These include discussing ‘ilm and dars (Q 3:79) and its relationship to ta’wil al-ahadith (Q 12:6; 101); discussing al-nubuwwa wa al-kitab and rahbaniyyah (Q 57:26-27); and discussing the relationship between al-kitab wa al-hukm wa al-nubuwwah (Q 3:75-79; 6:74-93; 57:26-27; 45:16-18) and shari‘ah (Q 15:18). I will argue that these references are part of a larger discourse on family law, the center of which are women (widows?) and orphans. I will also argue that these references are extremely precise and may point to Syriac or Greek texts, including the Didascalia Apostolorum, Syro-Roman Law Book (SRLB) and memre and madrashe of Syriac Christian authors. This paper also builds on the theories of Holger Zellentin, Garth Fowden, Fred Donner, Patriacia Crone and Ali Mabrouk. Assuming later Islamic law and tradition build upon Christian and Roman (as well as Arabian) legal discourse, then it is integral to understanding the Qur’an’s masterful reference to and typology of church canon in the long seventh century.

Because writing/reading and speaking/hearing are fundamentally different linguistic and social affairs, socio-linguists have noted that these acts produce markedly different syntax, grammar, and meta-aspects in any given narrative. From this socio-linguistic perspective, narrative and performance critics have developed criteria for determining whether a text is (more) orally or literally conceived. These criteria have been used to demonstrate the performative and folkloristic nature of variegated texts in different times, languages, and cultures. This perspective, however, has not been consistently applied to pseudepigrapha studies. This paper, then, interprets the Jewish narrative Joseph and Aseneth using this oral-performative methodology. It demonstrates that certain syntactical elements of the narrative, such as the paratactic and additive use of the coordinating conjunction, the presence of only one new idea in each clause – usually accomplished by using variegated forms of the ‘to be’ verb, – and the visible and descriptive nature of the text, all point to its oral origins. Based on these observations, this paper suggests that Joseph and Aseneth had an oral tradition that preceded, and likely also proceeded, the written versions that are now extant. Approaching the text from this oral hermeneutic solves a number of the text's enigmas, which are explored in the second half of the paper: the question of which manuscript recension is original; whether or not the narrative is written in the vein of the Hellenistic romance novels; the presence of Semitisms in the text, despite the general consensus that the text was originally composed in Greek; and the lack of wordplay on Aseneth’s name in 15.7 in the extant Greek witnesses.

The image of Adam and Eve, popular in early Christian iconography, appears in a variant form on about thirty fourth-century sarcophagus reliefs: Adam and Eve stand to either side of Christ-Logos, who hands them symbols of their labor (typically a sheaf of grain for Adam and a sheep for Eve). Though this image differs from the more popular portrayal of Adam and Eve on either side of a tree, covering their nakedness and looking ashamed, it has been interpreted along the same theological lines as a reference to sin and the Fall; the assigned labors symbolize punishments for transgression, a view based on patristic commentary on Genesis 3:16–19. This paper questions that interpretation, which fails to consider discontinuities between text and image and assumes that patristic literature represents (completely) the intentions and perceptions of sarcophagus patrons and viewers. Re-reading the sarcophagi in light of the patronage of aristocratic, married Christians enables an appreciation of how the image of Adam and Eve’s labors could represent and evoke marital ideals such as partnership in the division of labors and divine formation of the married relationship. Visual and literary evidence supporting this interpretation includes: (1) comparable iconography in images of Christ extending power or blessing to figures on either side of him; (2) early Christian texts and art using Adam and Eve as exemplars for married Christians; (3) the division of labors between spouses as a traditional ideal of marriage in Greco-Roman literature and art and in early Christian texts. The image of Adam and Eve’s labors was new visual vocabulary serving traditional aims of funerary display; it presented sarcophagi patrons as upholders of the social and spiritual order, and as spouses joined and defined by divine action at the center of their relationship.

This paper examines how Philo and Plutarch, two main representatives of Middle Platonism in the 1st century, envisaged the processes taking place at the end of man’s life on earth. The question is not only, whether and how the concept of a tripartite anthropology (body, soul and mind) shapes the transition from life to death and afterlife, but also, if and how God or divine intermediates are involved in this process of seperation. Comparing their views on the „mechanics of death“ might contribute to a more accurate picture of the intersection of anthropology and theology in 1st century Platonism. Finally, some considerations will be given to the question how this discusssion may enlighten Paul’s thoughts on the transition from life to afterlife.

Old Testament Worldview and Early Christian Apocalypses

The majority of scholars, especially Western Scholars’ reading of Genesis 39 is that of condemnation of Mrs Potiphar’s actions of seducing the young handsome Joseph and sending him to prison. This writer believes that such condemnation is due to lack of understanding of Mrs Potiphar’s vision in the light of African cultural values. The purpose of this paper is to examine critically Mrs Potiphar’s action in light of African cultural and religious values, especially when a woman is childless because of impotence of her husband and her duty is to protect her husband’s shame. Could this be the spirit behind Mrs. Potiphar’s so called seductive action? After discussing the Africanness of the ancient Egyptians this paper will also examine the probable justification of Mrs Potiphar’s action in light of African culture and tradition and her contribution to ancient Israel.

In debates about the underlining principle of an Ethics in the Old Testament those who stress ethical rules are grounded in the obedience to God´s will oppose those who stress that the motive clauses of the laws refer to God´s deeds and human experiences. Love as a virtue does not seem to have a central place in these motivations. However, prominent texts in the Tora, due to their compositional place, their rhetoric and their reception history, engage with the concept of love (esp. Dtn 6:5 and Lev 19). The paper shall investigate the role love plays within ethics - especially ethics as expressed in the genre of law texts in different literary layers. Along the classical text Dtn 6:5 the very notion of love implied in this exhortation to love God shall be highlighted. Love has to be experienced with the heart (ratio), the nefesch (desire, inner person) and the physical or creative power. Different aspects of the concept of love shall thus come to the core, as well as the role that the senses play in this specific moral action (motive) according to the legislative texts. Finally the relevance of the concept of love within the larger frame of an Ethics of the Old Testament shall be pointed out.

Ancient Smyrna, a major port city on the west coast of Asia Minor, had an important Jewish population during the Imperial period. It also hosted a nascent Christian community mentioned in the book of Revelation as one of the Seven Churches. Polycarp, the bishop of Smyrna, was martyred in the city’s stadium in 156 CE. This presentation will review the excavations at the civic agora that I have led since 2007. First, the city’s history and its archaeological excavations to date will be reviewed briefly. A map of major archaeological monuments still extant in modern Izmir will be shown. Then the major monuments revealed in the agora excavations will be discussed such as the basilica and bouleterion. The restoration and conservation of the agora finds will likewise be covered. I will close by discussing the challenges of preserving and presenting an archaeological site situated in a major urban environment. Smyrna emerged as a major Christian center in the Late Roman period, and our excavations have brought to light interesting aspects of the material world of this community.

Jer. 3:17 is one of the most frequently cited passage from the book of Jeremiah in aggadic Midrashim. By linking Jer. 3:17 and Isa. 54:2 with Gen 1:9, GenR 5, LevR 10 and PRK 20 discuss the functioning of the sanctuary in light of the order of creation, and the order of creation as reflected in the sanctuary. While using an almost identical traditional piece of interpretation that links the above mentioned intertexts, these Midrashim contextualize this tradition in fundamentally different ways. This different contextualization of the passage in these Midrashim touches the potential tension created by the linking of the gathering of the nations in Jerusalem according to Jer 3:17 and the stretching out of the sanctuary as well as Israel’s descendants possessing or inheriting the nations according to Isa 54:2-3. The Midrashim differ regarding the definition of the relation between Israel and the nations. The paper analyses the function of an exemplary exegetical tradition in the contexts of different Midrashim and argues for the meaningfulness of its broader context.

A torrent of current research into biblical and extra-biblical texts construes them as reactions against, or even subversions of, the Ptolemaic, Seleucid, or Roman “empire.” In Apocalypse Against Empire Anathea Portier-Young has interpreted 1 Maccabees along these lines. It is submitted, however, that inadequate attention has been given to modeling what the putative group entity “empire” means in such scholarship. Such inattention runs counter to another, and far more credible, interest in biblical studies at present—that which focuses on identities, group and personal, and employs social-scientific ideas to sharpen our understanding of them. I will argue that 1 Maccabees does not present the Maccabean revolt as a victory against the Seleucid “empire.” Rather, the text is plausibly interpreted as the narrative of an ethnic group’s triumph against an onslaught by other ethnic groups that threatened its survival. As in many ethnic conflicts, moreover, indivisible possession of the ethnic homeland was central to the struggle and victory meant the creation of an “ethnic state,” where an ethnic group establishes a polity in its homeland.

Nils Dal (“The Atonement: An Adequate Reward for the Akedah?” in Jesus the Christ, 1991, 137–151) argues that the ‘Aqedah served as a strong foundation for understanding Christ’s sacrifice in Rom 8:32 and other New Testament texts. In this paper, I argue that various themes found in Second Temple texts concerning Isaac’s near-sacrifice have their parallel in the Fourth Gospel. Within this developed tradition surrounding Isaac, he became a willing sacrifice (Jth 8:26–27; 4 Macc 13:12; 16:20; Ps. Philo, Biblical Antiquities 32:2–3; Josephus, Ant. 1:232). Jesus, too, announces routinely how he alone has the authority to hand over his life (John 2:21-22; 3:14-15; 18:21-30; 10:11-21; 12:7; 12:27-36). The atoning sacrifice of Christ had already been noted in the Apostolic period, “…He was in His own person about to offer the vessel of His Spirit a sacrifice for our sins, that the type also which was given in Isaac who was offered upon the alter should be fulfilled” (Barn. 7.3). This is logical since an Isaac typology is the only means by which an adequate theology of atonement could arise within Christianity. The Suffering Servant of Deutero-Isaiah could serve as a backdrop, but this figure also developed associations with Isaac. The only legend in Jewish literature that has a father sacrifice an only son is Abraham and Isaac, which is similar to how John describes the Father’s sending of his only Son into the world (John 1:14, 18; 3:16; 1 John 4:9–10). Lastly, both Isaac (Jub. 17:15–18:19; Palestinian Targum on Exod 12) and Jesus’ (John 13:1; 19:14) Passions both occur during Passover, which is 14 Nisan. The connections between Jesus and Isaac are considerable, and I will systematically lay out these associations in order to reveal that John’s theology of atonement is partially dependent upon an Isaac typology.

William Blake’s "The Everlasting Gospel" is an exercise in contradictions. As he works out an alternative vision of the nature of Christ in this iconoclastic and fragmented poem, it becomes less and less clear what kind of a messiah Blake has in mind. His Jesus is at once forgiving and vengeful, meek and unapologetically proud, chaste and impure, violent and gentle, fully in the flesh and fully transcendent. Furthermore, Blake’s dependence on, and hostility toward, his biblical heritage confuses his final message. Even where he is obviously ironic “it is hard to see how the irony is supposed to work,” as one scholar laments. While Blake’s Gospel is dissonant and at times lighthearted it is by no means unserious. His concerns are ultimate ones, his message urgent. This is made evident by the poem’s dependence on the imagery and language of the biblical book of Revelation: the promised final judgment on humanity. By drawing out the apocalyptic allusions in "The Everlasting Gospel," this paper will attempt to illuminate something of Blake’s convictions as expressed in this poem. These convictions, while contrary in many respects to the religious norms of his day, are no less religious in their concern for ultimate things. The paper will respond to and build on the scholarship of scholars Morton Paley, Karen Shabetai, Randel Helms, Jeanne Moskal, and others in interpreting the poem in light of Blake’s context and unique aesthetic. It will consider the particular temperament of eighteenth and nineteenth-century Christian eschatology, the discursive use of figures such as Rome and the Jew, and Blake’s anti-authoritarian position regarding the Church of England. Blake is a product of English utopianism, critically judging the church itself, and envisioning the possibility of a post-biblical/pre-biblical new age. His work does not describe the end of time, or any literally chronological scheme of events. Rather, his “end” is in the present tense. His Last Judgment is the event of being awakened from a deep sleep, entering a new age and a new consciousness. "The Everlasting Gospel" is a trickster gospel; it follows a literary path to truth rather than a linear one. Blake finds in the book of Revelation both the narrative absurdity and the vivid imagery needed to retell the gospels in apocalypse terms. Inspired by the everlasting gospel mentioned in the book of Revelation, which is preached to everyman, his is the sacred text for the ritually impure: the leapers, the prostitutes, the poets. His messiah is about serious business. He is neither humble nor gentle in persecuting injustice. His followers are kept from their sleep. His mission is a revolution of consciousness. The gospel according to William Blake is an apocalypse, ushering in the age of the liberated, enlightened spirit. That he attempts to liberate himself from the very biblical tradition that brings him such a vision is an irony that only such a gospel can celebrate.

In the 3rd century AD, Cyprian of Carthage played an essential role in the development of the hierarchical structure within the Church in Roman North Africa, as well as the Roman Empire at large. His principal model for this was urban life in the cities of the African provinces. In analysing the language that Cyprian used, in combination with the archaeology of the cities of Roman Africa, one can clearly detect a cross-fertilisation. The question arises, whether Cyprian was providing a blueprint of his own construction towards the organisation of the Church, or whether he was merely consolidating existing practices – his work a consequence of earlier developments.

Panel presentation on the theme "Teaching the Bible and the Arts in the Undergraduate Classroom."

In this paper, I explore the different divine identities (e.g. God and the Lord) and agents (i.e., the various angelic beings) found in the narrative of the Sahidic Testament of Isaac. I posit that their usage reflects a late ancient Egyptian monastic context. First, I argue that the Lord’s identity, while somewhat ambiguous in the narrative, would be understood as the Son of God/Christ figure throughout Testament of Isaac while God’s identity would be understood most often as the Father God/God of Abraham figure. The narrative’s identification of God and the Lord would be familiar for readers an Egyptian monastic context of the fourth and fifth centuries and their reading of scripture. Isaac was intimate with the divine, including the Lord/Son of God/Christ in his time which makes him an appropriate exemplar for the monastic readers in their context. Second, I argue in its representation of the relationship between the angels and Isaac, Testament of Isaac reflects an Egyptian monastic context in which angels participate in a monastic’s ascetic practices. Finally, in Testament of Isaac’s portrayal of Isaac in relation to God, the Lord and angels, Egyptian monastic readers would discover an Isaac who would be a relevant model for their ascetic lives. I suggest that the deployment of divine identities and divine agents in the Sahidic Testament of Isaac is crucial to the narrative and is apt for the Egyptian monastic context in the fourth and fifth centuries. Any future discussions of an earlier context than Egyptian monasticism for Testament of Isaac as a narrative whole would need to account for these divine figures.

The vast majority of surviving evidence for ancient prayer is textual of some kind, such as descriptions of prayer and prayers embedded in literary works; dedicatory and funerary inscriptions; graffiti; collections of hymns; sealed texts; and so on. For the most part, scholarship on prayer focuses on disembodied prayer texts, with little regard to the significance of the different media, and so it is frequently the case that completely unequal phenomena are brought into comparison, and more apt analogues are ignored. Emphasizing that prayer--as a set of phenomena--is not a “text,” and that the textual component is only part of what constitutes prayer (and not necessarily the most important part), this paper turns attention to the material culture related to prayer in antiquity as an understudied source of data. In theory, there is a very significant difference between a textualized prayer, and a liturgical manuscript that constitutes a material artifact of prayer practice. Is it possible to distinguish between these in practice? This paper will survey the range of material culture of prayer practice in the ancient Mediterranean world, and attempt an initial taxonomy for the purposes of cross-cultural comparison.

Douglas Farrow Hebrews Section SBL x David Moffitt Mar 23 (1 day ago) to me, amy.peeler Dear Amy and Craig, Douglas Farrow just sent me the abstract for his paper in the Hebrews section entitled "The Gift of Fear" (see below). He will have to leave SBL on Monday afternoon and has asked that the session not be scheduled later than Monday morning. Hope all is well! Best, David The Gift of Fear Post-Copernican man peers into the heavens and sees grandeur and mystery but no throne of God. Neither does he recognize any purification of ta epourania. Consequently he does not understand the shaking of either earth or heaven. There is no fear of God before his eyes. He lacks the gift of fear, which (as Thomas says) exists preeminently in Christ. The kind of fear he knows is rather the kind that leads to despair, that belongs to what Kierkegaard called the sickness unto death. The lack of the former and the presence of the latter are transforming western law and culture in its own pursuit of a better country. Hebrews, then, is a tract for our times. The paper explores the theme of godly fear that is fundamental to its ethos and ethics, as counterpoint to the confidence motif, the two being mediated by the document’s ascension theology.

Early Qur’anic manuscripts are mere fragments without the additional information concerning the historical context in which they were copied, about the conventions of their writing process, or the conditions of their later use. Nevertheless, in a few cases it is possible to propose conjectures about the mechanism behind both the writing process and elements added by later users, i.e. the later scribal hands. Thus, inks, erasures, and later corrections/additions can reveal the process of copying from written exemplars as well as elements of the tradition of reading the manuscripts themselves. This paper aims at presenting an interesting case in which an additional ink can reveal the perspective of a reader who added his notes to a copy of the Qur’anic text. A manuscript scattered in Birmingham, Saint Petersburg and Doha shows traces of corrections and later interventions by readers. Sometimes, it is evident that corrections were done by the original scribe cancelling or adding letters and words immediately as he worked. A second stage in the process of writing is the result of correction activity seen in the additions made in black ink. A third stage is seen in further additions in red ink. The red ink has been used not only for adding letters to the consonantal skeleton, but also for indicating vocalization by means of dots. Did the third hand make his additions in red ink with the purpose of correcting the text and its subdivisions? Was he decoding them? Was he reading/reciting the text? These are questions that will be explored as these additions are examined.

The aim of this paper is to examine the role of disgust and notions of pollution in shaping the moral discourse of the Hebrew Bible. Modern psychological research has devoted considerable attention to both “physical”/“bodily” disgust and “moral” disgust, finding both similarities and significant differences between them. Of particular interest is the plausible evolutionary hypothesis that physiological disgust provides the phylogenetic basis for social or moral disgust. To a considerable extent, these distinctions are comparable to the different categories of pollution which have been identified in the Hebrew Bible, specifically the distinction between so-called “ritual” and “moral” impurities. It will be argued that the evolutionary framework employed for the study of disgust can shed light on the role of pollution beliefs in shaping moral discourse in ancient Israel. Some key questions to be addressed include: Is moral disgust/ pollution “metaphorical” (and what are the implications of such a designation)? How do biological constraints serve as motivating forces governing this role of pollution beliefs in moral discourse? In other words, how are we to explain the phenomenon characterized by Louis Dumont as “the eruption of the biological into social life”? Finally, what are the limitations of the evolutionary framework? These considerations will then be applied to a test-case: the narrative describing the “defilement” of Dinah (Genesis 34) and the violent response of her brothers in decimating the village of Shechem. In previous research, the different views of intermarriage reflected in the text have been interpreted as reflecting an ambivalent author or multiple literary sources or layers. In many cases, these interpretations are more indicative of the moral and political biases of the reader than the ideology reflected by the text. These issues can be elucidated by the Moral Foundations Theory of Jonathan Haidt and his colleagues. As will be shown, this theory can clarify the divergent moral voices expressed in the story as well as the correlation between pollution, ethnicity and violence reflected in it. It can also shed light on the moral dispositions of modern readers of this disputed text.

This paper seeks to understand the history of Israel from its origins in the time of Rames II to the withdrawal of Egypt from the land of Canaan in the time of Ramses VI. It seeks to bring together the archaeological evidence which would contribute to the story even if the Bible did not exist combined with the biblical texts about the same events. To do so, it draws on the works of: 1. Nadav Na’aman who commented on the 350 years of Egyptian imperialism in the land of Canaan an wondered about the Israelite reference to it 2. Donald Redford who stated that after the Battle of Kadesh, Canaanites knew that Ramses II could be beaten but ignored the Canaanites in Egypt. 3. Richard Friedman who suggested that the violent Levites participated in an exodus from Egypt but ignored the warriors from the beyond the river who were in Egypt. 4. Mark Leuchter who posited the Songs of Deborah and Sea derive from early Israelite history. 5. Adam Zertal who identified Mount Ebal as a place where early Israel met. 6. Jacob Wright who stressed the importance of songs of commemoration but ignored the early history of Israel and Ebal. The intention is to propose an historical reconstruction for the emergence of Israel in history consistent with the archaeological information in the 13th and 12th centuries BCE.

New Testament scholars have only begun to investigate the impact of Enlightenment rationalists and Deists on the so-called Quest of the Historical Jesus. But it is being increasingly realized that the modern Quest did not exactly begin with Herman Reimarus in 1778, as Albert Schweitzer had proposed. Instead, Reimarus and other early questers were shaped in important ways by earlier discussions, and sometimes unwittingly. This paper contends that that is perhaps nowhere more evident than in their reception of an earlier disdain for certain apocalyptic or eschatological traditions in the New Testament, such as the notion of the Second Advent of Christ. In their polemic against orthodox Christianity, thinkers such as Charles Blount, Anthony Collins, Thomas Woolston, Matthew Tindal, Thomas Morgan, and Peter Annett, among others, all had disparaging things to say about the Second Advent idea. And they all voiced their opinion with a similar interpretive technique: they attributed the Second Advent traditions in the New Testament to the disciples of Jesus, who either misunderstood or blatantly misrepresented their master’s true intentions. Moreover, these thinkers would often link the doctrine of the Second Advent with what they called “carnal Jewish messianism,” politicism, and violence—all things that they believed were far from Jesus’ ethical message of the Kingdom of God. I submit that the 19th century Quest, knowingly or not, simply repeated these arguments, and even in current scholarship, I argue, it is common to find descriptions of the Second Advent idea that highlight the violent or militant nature of it. This paper also discloses a palpable irony to this history of interpretation: many of these pre-Reimarus rationalists and Deists were interested primarily in the Christian doctrine of the Second Advent. That is, they were not interested, as later critics were, in the reconstruction of Christian origins for its own sake. Thus, most understood and criticized the Second Advent “doctrine” as it had been constructed via harmonizing various New Testament witnesses. It is precisely this harmonization that makes sense of the common characterization of the violent or militant return of Christ: a notion which is not found in the Synoptics, but rather Revelation, where Christ, with his robe dipped in blood, returns to earth on a white horse to strike down the nations and tread the winepress of God’s wrath (Rev. 19:11-16). Thus, the later Quest for Jesus, which expressly forbid (at least in word) uncritical “harmonies” of New Testament texts, was nevertheless influenced in its understanding of the Second Advent by a prior harmonistic interpretation.

Several recent studies evidence a renewed interest in the Euthalian apparatus of the Pauline letters. The goal of this paper is to contextualize the emergence and ideological function of these paratextual materials. Building off the recent work of Eric Scherbenske, who argues that Pauline paratexts contribute to direct the interpretation of a canonized Paul, I propose that a canonized Paul is best considered as a particular moment of what I call Paul’s letter archive, a category benefitting from some recent and important shifts in archival theory and textual scholarship. Paul’s letters as an archive provides a material and conceptual site to evaluate the dynamics of three archival moments: collection, corpus, and canon, which have formerly received insufficient articulation. I argue that each of these archival moments comprise differing construals of authorship, authority, and textual unity. Euthalian paratexts perform a canonical function for the interpretation and use of the Pauline letter archive and my analysis attempts to foreground this canonical function in relation to the dynamics of collection and corpus.

My paper explores how historical-critical approaches to the Qur'an are tied to a liberal secular political vision for society. As a case study, I will focus on the Lebanese thinker Wajih Qansu whose recent work al-Na?? al-dini fi'l-Islam offers a rigorous critique of the interpretative framework in which traditional Qur'an interpreters operate. By partially deconstructing the Qur'an, Qansu hopes to develop a fruitful reformed interpretation of the text. Based on print media, interviews, and broadcast media, I will situate his work in the broader framework of contemporary discussions about applying historical critique to the Qur'an among Muslim thinkers, principally among traditionally trained Shi'ite clerics. Qansu’s view that the Qur'an is a “drama of revelation” posits the Qur'an “as text,” a claim that has become particularly in vogue in (Western) Qur'an scholarship. My paper seeks to question this hermeneutical turn. What would be the “text” of the Qur'an? Its linguistic structure, its material constitution, a kind of meta-text which refers to its overall meaning? What is implied in reading the Qur'an as text, and, moreover, as a historical text? For Qansu, the deconstruction of the Qur'an serves to arrive at a more authentically Islamic Qur'anic meaning; the tool for liberating the Qur'an is history. Simultaneously, his approach implicitly challenges the monopoly of the traditional clerical establishment over Qur'anic interpretation who react accordingly. I will demonstrate that the political implications of Qansu's hermeneutics are the main reason for traditionally trained clerics to reject such a reading of the Qur'an. I suggest that to read the Qur'an as literature or historical document presupposes not only a change in epistemology and method, but a change in how language and speech are viewed, and how subject and object relate to each other in that process.

The only two prophets who are explicitly said to have lived through the fall of Jerusalem in 586 BCE are Ezekiel and Jeremiah. They present this event, however, in two markedly different ways, taking very distinct viewpoints. Ezekiel, who is informed about it only about five months after the event, describes the capture of Jerusalem from afar, as if through binoculars. Jeremiah, an actual participant in the events, scrutinizes the reasons for them, and the background to them, in great and precise detail, as if through a microscope, extensively relating the various positions and happenings. These diverse presentations mirror the respective characteristics of the Books of Ezekiel and Jeremiah, and they reveal much about their theologies, too.

Beginning with Homer and Hesiod, various authors offer insights into early Greek economic practice and thought. This paper provides an overview of the major findings regarding early Greek economic performance and theory.

The biblical book of Proverbs contains the admonition to do good to one’s enemies. Proverbs 25:21-22 says, “If your enemy hungers, feed him bread, and if he is thirsty, give him water to drink. For you will heap coals on his head, and the Lord will reward you.” As commentators often note, a strikingly similar proverb is found in the Egyptian text The Instruction of Amenemope. In §2 5.1-6 it is advised that if an evil person is drowning, the one witnessing it should help him; “Raise him up, give him your hand; leave him in the hands of God. Fill his belly with your own bread, that he may be sated and ashamed.” It is generally accepted that the book of Proverbs has in some way been influenced by Amenemope and this passage provides an example. However, the motif of returning good for evil is not exclusive to these two texts. It is found elsewhere in both the Bible (e.g. Lev 19:18; Ex 23:4; Matt 5:44-48; Rom 12:17-21) and Egyptian wisdom literature (e.g. Papyrus Insinger 23.6 and The Instruction of Ptahhotep 74-77). Furthermore, outside of the biblical and Egyptian texts, a lengthy admonition to return good for evil is found in an Akkadian wisdom text, a text which merits more attention than it has thus far received. The “Counsels of Wisdom” is one of a few number of preserved Mesopotamian collections of proverbial instruction and admonition. It is written in Akkadian and may date to the Kassite period (16th – 12th century BCE). In it, the author exhorts the hearer (“my son”), “Do not return evil to the man who disputes with you; Requite with kindness your evil-doer, maintain justice to your enemy, Smile on your adversary,” (lines 41-44). Unlike in Proverbs and Amenemope, however, the motivation given for such an action is not revenge; the hearer should do good and not evil to his enemy simply because “(Evil) is not agreeable to the gods, Evil is an abomination to Marduk,” (lines 47-48). This paper closely examines the motivation given in “Counsels of Wisdom” for doing good to one’s enemy and engages it in a comparison with the reason given for the same action in Proverbs 25:22. Additionally, it investigates the reasons provided by the author for doing anything which is advised in “Counsels of Wisdom.”

Although much Mesopotamian writing has been found in palaces and temples, it has become clear that training in the scribal craft often took place in private houses, where the skill was transmitted in an intimate circle of family and apprenticeship. The household setting of cuneiform schooling is especially visible in the Old Babylonian edubba or “tablet house,” but similar situations are found elsewhere, as with the diviner’s archive at Emar in Late Bronze Syria. The house as location for schooling and the production of texts by master scribes has not drawn the attention it merits in discussion of biblical composition and transmission. In particular, this social framework could help explain the peculiar phenomenon of books defined by the name and work of individual prophets while displaying evidence of work by different hands across considerable time, maintaining the importance of coherence in a single document. This character is most striking in the long books of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel, where both the complexity and the unified result are equally present. My goal is to offer a first elaboration of this hypothesis, with particular reference to Isaiah and Jeremiah. Both books are the products of learned scribes, sophisticated in their application of language and literary form, launching projects of social and religious opinion-making through an innovative written vehicle. We find in them repeated reference to teaching and learning, once in Isaiah 8:16 with explicit reference to the prophet’s students. It may be that early production and reproduction of the Bible’s long prophet books took place in individual house-based schools that maintained identification with the founding figure – and identified their work with the maintenance and constant renovation of the house book.

Three times in the David narrative a person is accused of a sexual, or sexually-charged, offense: Ishba‘al, king of Israel, accuses his military commander Abner of having sexual relations with Rizpah, his father Saul’s former consort (2 Sam 3:6-11); David’s wife Michal publicly denigrates David after he leads a cultic procession, implying that he has exposed himself indecently (2 Sam 6:16; 20-23); and King Solomon accuses his half-brother Adonijah of attempting to usurp the throne when Adonijah requests marriage to David’s former “attendant” Abishag (1 Kgs 2:13-25). In each episode, the accusation is initially presented in sexual language but responded to in political terms. That these situations are inherently political is not lost on any of the characters within the narratives, and in each case the accusation arguably represents an attempted power check against the (supposedly) offending party. Moreover, each accusation is set shortly after a significant shift in power has occurred, and the outcome of each accusation has considerable political consequences within the David narrative. This paper will argue that these three episodes about accusations of sexual misconduct serve the strategic literary purposes of the David narrative by providing explanations for political fallout between particular characters while simultaneously defending the moral stature of the kings David and Solomon. Through stories of sexual accusations, the writers of the David narrative choose to represent the past in a particular manner, and a literary analysis of these texts provides a better understanding of the historiographical nature of certain portions of the overall David narrative. An examination of accusations of sexual misconduct in the David narrative elucidates conceptions of political hegemony and royal ideology in ancient Israel and Judah as preserved in the historical-cultural remembering of the most celebrated biblical king.

What new insights into the Apocalypse can be gained by interdisciplinary collaboration? This paper discusses the outcome of a collaborative project which focused on uniting biblical scholarship and cutting edge artistic practices to re-present the Book of Revelation for the digital age. "De/coding the Apocalypse" was the result, an art exhibition which visual artist Michael Takeo Magruder produced in in dialogue with King’s College London’s Theology and Religious Studies department. Displayed in London’s Somerset House, the exhibition presented five installations exploring Revelation through leading edge technology including virtual reality, real-time data, 3D printing, computer-generated barcodes and video games. However, this was not a predictable ‘visions of the future’ exhibition, but something far more slippery, described by the artist not as “destruction” but as “an unveiling” of the text. Each room was based upon a scholarly essay on an aspect of the Book: its reception history, cultural heritage, use of HB texts and theology. The insights into the text offered from this were ground-breaking, as Takeo’s artistic creations fused advanced technological systems with traditional artistic forms ranging from painting and sculpture to engraving and weaving, creating a tension between the past of the text and the future it looks into. One of the five scholars involved in the realisation of the exhibition will present the paper, giving a ‘hands on’ reflection of the academic and artistic processes. Each room and the scholarship behind it will be discussed. The paper will then move onto the interpretative insights which this experience has provided for scholarship on Revelation, and how such visual re-imaginings can alter how we view the Apocalypse. Finally, a review of the importance of such collaborative projects will be offered, outlining the tensions and the creative processes behind the end result. An introduction to the exhibition can be viewed here: http://www.crane.tv/apocalypse-now.

In 2005, Dale Allison used reception history and intertextuality to propose that Matthew 5:21-24 is an allusion to Genesis 4:1-16, the Cain and Abel pericope. Allison’s reading of Matthew 5:21-24 identifies Cain as the person at the altar who needs to reconcile with his brother. Allison concludes that the allusion provides rhetorical support for Jesus’s enlarging of the penalty for anger, causes the reader revulsion from what Jesus condemns through an association with Cain, and identifies the person at the altar as the guilty party. Unfortunately, Allison’s proposal for the allusion has not received apt consideration. The paper seeks to revive and augment Allison’s proposal through an analysis of point-of-view in Matthew 5:23-24. The paper maintains Allison’s claim that the text is an allusion to Genesis 4, but reorients the perspective and purpose of the allusion. Reading the allusion from the perspective of Abel, and not Cain, renders the point-of-view of the account more intelligible and suggests a more significant outcome. Jesus’s expansion of the prohibition of murder to include anger does not only indict Cain for murder and for anger. In addition, Matthew portrays Jesus as charging Abel to make peace proactively with Cain, his angry brother. This reading suggests that Matthew 5:23-24 exemplifies the characteristic of a heightened ethic throughout the Sermon on the Mount.

In the so-called Testimonium Flavianum Josephus makes several interesting statements about Jesus, among which is: “He was the Christ.” This statement is usually seen as an interpolation by a later Christian copyist. After all, Josephus nowhere else indicates that he regarded Jesus as the Messiah. In fact, this statement has led some to dismiss the entire passage as a Christian interpolation. Yet there are good reasons for seeing the Testimonium as being at least largely Josephan in origin. It occurs in all extant manuscripts and is quoted as early as Eusebius. Several of Josephus’ idiosyncrasies come through in its style and vocabulary. One would also be quite surprised if Josephus, writing from Rome in about 94 C.E., had written nothing about Jesus or Christianity (aside from the passing remark about James in Ant. 20.200). Finally, an Arabic version omits many of the most patently Christian words and phrases, suggesting that the original Testimonium had suffered from Christian editing. Origen claims that Josephus “did not accept Jesus as the Christ” (Comm. in Matth. 10.17). This has often been taken as proof that the phrase “He was the Christ” was not original to Josephus. But the question should be asked what prompted Origen to say this in the first place. He would have hardly said it if he thought Josephus’ writings contained no references to Christ at all. Silence would have been interpreted as silence, not outright rejection. Nor is it likely that Origen and others would have refused to quote the Testimonium because it only contained neutral historical data about Jesus and Christianity. A neutral Testimonium would have still been apologetically useful (or at least interesting enough to quote) and would not have necessarily been interpreted to mean that Josephus “did not accept Jesus as the Christ”. I propose that Origen knew the Testimonium in a relatively neutral form similar to the Arabic version, except that it contained the following statement: “He was NOT the Christ.” This would explain why Origen says that Josephus “did not accept Jesus as the Christ” and why he and other early authors avoid quoting from the Testimonium. It would explain the abrupt reference to “Jesus, who was called Christ” at Ant. 20.200, a statement which seems to recall a previous use of the word “Christ” in connection with Jesus. It would explain the alternative readings in Jerome, Agapius, and Michael the Syrian. Finally, it would explain how such an obviously Christian statement could make its way into the textual tradition; for it was not a complete fabrication but only a slight modification of something that already existed. The alteration would have naturally led to a further Christianizing of the Testimonium, probably by the same scribe. Its propagation would have been ensured by the fact that it was so serviceable to early Christian apologists and so agreeable to the Christian copyists responsible for preserving Josephus’ writings.

The versions of the New Testament are translations from the Greek text. The text is translated from the language of origin into the target language. Thus, in principle, there is – or at least should be – no versional influence on the Greek text. However, the question has to be raised under which conditions such an influence might be at least thinkable or even possible. The intention of the paper is to describe an instance where versional influence on the Greek text of one specific passage of the New Testament is actually beyond any reasonable doubt. This example will be used in order to describe the linguistic and perceptional environment in which such an influence can arise. This might help to identify other areas where influence is detectable. The main versions to be used in this context are Latin and Coptic, however, these observations might also be pertinent to other versions.

Traditional approaches to the linguistic dating of Biblical Hebrew (“BH”) have produced many innovative results. In part because of inattention to the deleterious effects of textual noise and to the attendant problem of the overfitting of textual features to restricted texts, the results have unfortunately exhibited limited generalizability. Nonetheless, traditional research has led to useful—and improvable—contributions. Among these are Hurvitz’s set of constraints determining the admissibility of evidence (especially “accumulation”) and several detailed studies of “pilot corpora.” In recent years, approaches to strengthening and/or illuminating the results of traditional studies of diachrony in BH have been suggested. There have been proposals to consider, in addition to dates, other independent parameters in analyses, including “text type and genre, poeticality, orality, dialect, writer demographics, scribal influence, cultural status, and whether a text is a translation from another language” (Herring, van Reenen, and Schøsler, 2001, 1). Consideration of proposed conditioning variables has typically involved only marginal analyses, wherein a candidate parameter is assessed solely in its own right. Recently, a stalwart from innovation theory, the s-curve, has been taken up by a few BH diachrony aficionados. Concurrently, the methods, results, and inferences associated with traditional analyses have been questioned at length, principally by Young, Rezetko (and Ehrensvärd). In their recent opus, Rezetko and Young assert that “trying to date biblical writings…is not a legitimate objective of historical linguistics” (Rezetko & Young, 2014, 249, n. 10). As readers evaluate the arguments in their book leading to this conclusion, it is critical to understand the methods involved in their work. In the remainder of this paper, I address their methods as simply as possible. First, I consider Rezetko’s and Young’s stance regarding historical linguistics in BH and the place of linguistic dating therein. Next, I examine Rezetko’s and Young’s methods vis-à-vis the proper execution of historical linguistic investigations. Finally, as time allows, I suggest some possible ways ahead based on statistical methods designed to deal with signals embedded in noise.

Over the years the term “Jewish-Christianity” has been employed to encompass a wide and often conflicting set of beliefs, practices, persons, and ideologies, underscoring the inherent subjectivity of the term. This paper considers how attending to early Christian exegetical practices might help to better illumine the notion of Jewish Christianity. In particular, I contrast how two fourth century CE Christian compositions, the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies (PsCl H) and John Chrystostom, made sense of Jesus’ troubling actions as told in Mark 7:24–30 and parallels. In the passage, when a distraught gentile mother approaches Jesus to solicit his aid in alleviating the torments of her demon-possessed daughter, Jesus first ignores but then ultimately humiliates here, insinuating that she was less than a human, no better than a dog. My analysis reveals that John Chrysostom and the author(s)/redactor(s) of PsCl H interpret this passage in quite different ways. While the exegesis of the prominent Gentile church leader, Chrystostom, distances Jesus’s actions from the subsequent Jews who live after him, the interpretation of the author(s)/redactor(s) of PsCl H reveals the opposite effect. Namely, for PsCl H, the gentile woman receives Jesus’s aid only after she has “converted” to a form of Judaism. I argue that these different hermeneutical responses reflect not only the concerns of the two respective authors, helping to underscore the Jewish nature of PsCl H, but also, and more significantly, that they provide a unique window into the specific way that certain Jews, in the 4th century CE, expressed their faith in Jesus. Since this expression is different than the modern construction of Jews being saved through Moses and gentile through Jesus, I further reflect upon how the PsCl H expression of Jewish Christian might inform contemporary Jewish-Christian dialogue related to the interpretation of sacred texts.

The fifth and sixth centuries witnessed the flowering of Syriac homilies. Syriac stylists composed large corpora of homilies, and translation efforts led to an influx of homiletical materials from Greek authors. They remain key texts for understanding late antique biblical exegesis, the spread of complex ideas to wide audiences, and cultural exchange between Greek and Syriac communities. This presentation will address two questions about this genre: (1) How did late antique Syriac communities understand homilies? (2) Why were homilies preserved in such great numbers? Research on the sociology of reading in antiquity guides the approach taken to these questions, by focusing on the perspectives of the producers and readers of late antique manuscripts. Over fifty homiletical collections survive from the years between 400 and 700. The organization of these collections and their colophons serve as evidence for how producers of manuscripts thought about homilies and how readers encountered them. This analysis reveals categories that suggest common understandings of the value and purpose of homilies which led to their careful preservation. After presenting the findings on the manuscripts, the presentation turns to topics that apply more broadly to understanding readership in late antiquity. First, it examines differences and similarities between the organization of translated homilies and homilies written in Syriac. Second, it considers diachronic developments in reading practices of Syriac homilies. This final section has implications for understanding the transfer of knowledge from Greek to Syriac and the development of a unique, yet interdependent Syriac tradition in late antiquity.

This is an invited main paper, reviewing recent trends in historical Jesus research with regard to historiography, methods, and the use of criteria. The paper challenges current tendencies and suggests possible ways forward.

Interacting with previous scholarship on Roman imprisonment and Paul’s letters (Cassidy 2001; Wansink 1996; Rapske 1994), this paper uses a feminist decentering approach to consider the ways discourses of freedom and captivity function within Paul’s letters. This approach to Paul’s constructions of himself and others as both apostle and prisoner challenges common binaries in the American criminal justice system that focuses on individuals rather than understanding crimes within a context of complex socio-political dynamics. In several places throughout the letters of Paul, Paul identifies himself or other apostles as a prisoner (Philem 1:1, Ph 1:12-18, 2 Cor 6:5, 11:23, Col 4:3, 18, Eph 3:1, 4:1). In one example from Romans 16:7, Paul sends greetings to his kinsfolk in the Roman community, Andronicus and Junia. This male and female pair is identified as a set of prominent apostles who spent time in prison with Paul. What happens when we think these factors together? How does an identification as a “prisoner” relate to the identification as a “prominent apostle”? Prisons construct boundaries, and are designed to separate certain individuals from the rest of society. Prisons separate criminals from the innocent, and captives from the free. They separate men from women, and adults from the young. There is no third space in the eyes of the criminal justice system. Because of these divisions, forming partnerships with inmates is an unusual experience. In Drew Theological School’s Partnership for Religion and Education in Prisons (PREP) program, theological school students cross the boundaries and create a third space in the classroom. My experiences with this complex partnership challenge the assumptions society holds about prisoners and prisons. The women in these classes are not merely criminals, but are thoughtful, caring, and creative individuals. Most of them were victims of crimes before they became perpetrators. Seeing the humanity of these women in such a dehumanizing place can be constructive for interpreting Paul’s prisoner rhetoric. How might the multiplicity of identity markers, as both prisoner and apostle, mentioned in Romans 16:7 and throughout Paul’s letters, challenge assumptions about prisons and their boundaries? Feminist scholarship has challenged scholars of Paul’s letters to decenter Paul and turn the focus onto early Christ communities as sites of complex debate and perspectival difference (Schüssler Fiorenza, 2007; Johnson-DeBaufre and Nasrallah 2010). Rather than being treated as either a hero or a villain, Paul must be placed within a network of others who are negotiating various discourses of empire, race, gender, class, etc. Such an approach can also be constructive for reconceptualizing captive prisoners today. As the complex problem of mass incarceration continues to devastate American lives and society, the individuals who are caught committing crimes are vilified or, in particular moments, idealized. This paper’s interpretation of Paul’s imprisonment rhetoric asserts that the boundaries upon which the current criminal justice system is based should be re-examined. In particular, rather than vilifying or idealizing particular individuals in the wake of crimes, these individuals and their actions should be placed in broader social systems and power dynamics.

This paper will argue that Wisdom Literature (including Egyptian) does not include revelation as a source of knowledge prior to Ben Sira. By “Wisdom Literature” I mean, first of all, didactic texts, such as Proverbs, Qohelet, and Amenemope, a genre which is well titled “Ethical Instructions” in New Kingdom Egyptian texts. Even when the Wisdom is broadened to include Job, revelation is not a source of knowledge. The absence of revelation is not due to an ideology held by authors of Wisdom but not others, but only to the constraints of the genre and its uses.

The Jezreel Expedition was founded in 2012 with the aim of surveying, excavating and documenting the site of greater Jezreel in the longue duree. A LiDAR scan was commissioned and a three-four square kilometer area to the west, north, and east of the tel was surveyed. More than 360 features were documented and amongst them there were 57 agricultural installations, several of which were tentatively identified as oil and wine presses. One particularly impressive installation was recently excavated and recognised as an early winery. is there a connection between it and the story of Naboth in 1 Kings 21?

At three points in his Gospel, Luke makes apparent intertextual allusions to Ezekiel 20:45-47 (LXX 21:1-3). These include Jesus’ setting his face towards Jerusalem (9:51); his desire that the fire he came to cast on earth would already be kindled (12:49); and his words regarding the green tree and the dry tree (23:31). Each of these evokes the imagery of judgment by fire, while the first and the last roughly frame Luke’s travel narrative, concluding in Jerusalem as Jesus goes to the cross. As such they contribute to a better understanding of Luke’s theology of judgment as it relates to the destruction of Jerusalem as well as to Jesus’ death there. This paper analyzes the ways in which these intertextual allusions function within Luke’s narrative movement towards Jerusalem.

Scholarship has reached remarkable consensus regarding Genesis 17, concluding not only that it derives from Priestly origins but also that it is central to the Priestly work. At the same time, however, two fundamental problems have been observed in the chapter, suggesting its lack of uniformity. First, Genesis 17:1-8 appears to present an unconditional covenant, yet these verses are followed by the imposition of a circumcision stipulation upon its human recipients in 17:9-14. Second, Genesis 17:23-27 emphasizes Ishmael’s circumcision in fulfillment of his covenantal responsibilities, even though he appears to be denied membership in the covenant immediately beforehand in 17:15-21. Thus Genesis 17 presents an inconsistent perspective on both the nature of the covenant (conditional versus unconditional) and the extent of its participants (inclusive versus exclusive). Because the circumcision requirement and fulfillment are implicated in both conflicts, the most common scholarly determination is that Genesis 17:9-14 and 17:23-27 represent foreign intrusions. In that case, an originally unconditional covenant that was initially limited solely to Isaac’s line was expanded to become more embracing of other Abrahamic peoples while simultaneously demanding more of its participants’ ritual performance. In this paper, I assert that this solution to the chapter’s incongruities, despite its popularity, misconstrues the text’s development and consequently misinterprets the Priestly writers’ developing views on both the Abrahamic covenant and Ishmael’s status therein. Removal of the circumcision aspects of the chapter, I will demonstrate, leaves a core text that still contains the same inconsistencies whose goal it was to avoid. Moreover, a reconstructed base text consisting of Genesis 17:1-8, 15-22 yields an unbalanced and incoherent presentation of the covenant. Rather than relegating the circumcision aspects to a secondary position, I propose that it is instead Genesis 17:15-21 that comprises the later addition to the chapter. I will argue that it is in fact these verses that create the problems in the covenant’s exposition and in its scope, directly contradicting not only Genesis 17:9-14 and 17:23-27 but also 17:1-8. The Abrahamic covenant from its very foundation entailed human responsibilities in addition to divine promises, and it initially encompassed all of the nations that would descend from Abraham, including Ishmael. It is the secondary insertion of Genesis 17:15-21, with its reference to Sarah and prediction of Isaac’s birth, that deliberately undermines that original presentation. By introducing a matrilineal requirement to the covenant’s recipients through Sarah in addition to Abraham, this passage excludes Ishmael and restricts the covenant’s inheritance entirely to Isaac and his descendants. This new exclusive outlook on the participants in the Abrahamic covenant contrasts sharply with the view expressed in the remainder of the chapter. But it also stands in opposition to the more positive and embracing perspective on Ishmael seen in multiple other loci in the Priestly passages of Genesis, demonstrating a distinct shift in Priestly tradents’ stance toward foreigners as the Priestly work was updated over time.

Herod the Great’s massive building projects featured a distinctive style of stone framing which is associated with the Temple of Jerusalem but now has been found in other sites that include Rhodes. Where and why Herod chose this type of framing for some of his building stones is a matter of some debate. The issue that I will explore has implications for the direction of cultural influences in the decorations used in and around the Temple of Jerusalem. Was Herod adding an element that was distinctly imperial for his building or was he having his builders innovate a new decoration style to make his building distinctive? The issue is important for a variety of reasons not the least of which is an unusual reference in Josephus Flavius’ writings regarding one of the buildings attributed to Herod in Rhodes: the Temple of Apollo. In the Antiquities 16.5.3, Josephus writes of Herod: “But what [was] the greatest and most illustrious of all his [Herod’s] works; he erected Apollo’s Temple at Rhodes, at a great expense and gave them a great number of talents of silver to rebuild their fleet.” Indeed, at the Acropolis of Rhodes sits the Temple of Apollo and it has a series of framed Herodian stones around the outside of the enclosures of the Temple. The paper will explore this and other buildings in the region which are associated with Herod the Great.

As is well-known, John labels his miracle stories 'semeia'. Although it is difficult or even questionable to define a genre 'miracle story', we can observe that John's 'semeia narratives' are not simply tales of past events but deliberately narrated in a manner that points readers to other elements in John's story, esp. the passion and resurrection story, to various symbolic dimensions, and in general to an understanding of the episodes in the light of the entire Jesus story, or in the post-Easter retrospective. From that point of view, they can be characterized as a revelation of his glory, of his true Christological identity, and of his life-giving power. These interpretive links are embedded into the narratives or added in lengthy discourses or dialogues. They all contribute to a reading of the Johannine miracle stories in steady consideration of their Christological and soteriological significance, not merely as episodes of the time and ministry of the earthly Jesus. From John 20:30-1, the question raises whether the term 'semeia' only refers to the miracle stories in John 2-11 or whether other narratives such as the resurrection stories, are also included. A brief look at other Johannine narratives, e.g. the entry in Jerusalem or the footwashing, can show that they are also designed as significant stories that point to the whole of Jesus' ministry or its salvific and ethical meaning. This fits into John's epistemology that urges readers to perceive the whole of Jesus' ministry in the light of its final soteriological meaning, or in the perspective of the post-Easter insights. The semeia narratives as significant narratives are part of the literary strategy that shapes the gospel in its entirety.

Invited paper

In the treatise That Every Good Person is Free, Philo compiles an extensive and diverse list of individuals as exempla in support of the thesis that the virtuous person is free even if enslaved. Among these, he includes the tragic heroine Polyxena who, in Euripides’ Hecuba, dies willingly rather than go into slavery. For Philo, this female tragic death functions as an a fortiori demonstration that all the more unassailable must be the freedom of the masculine subject. This mode of argument relates to Philo’s so-called “gender gradient,” whereby he depicts advancement in virtue as a move from the feminine to the masculine. This presentation employs Philo’s appropriation of the exemplum of Polyxena as a means of interrogating his gendered construction of virtue. On the one hand, Philo’s reading of Euripides anticipates the thesis of Nicole Loraux’s Tragic Ways of Killing a Woman (org. 1985) that suicide on stage blurs the distinction between masculine and feminine by moving the agency of women beyond its conventional limitations and passivity into the realm of male kleos. On the other hand, Philo’s argument participates in a wider interpretative tradition of this tragedy. Several other ancient authors—e.g., Pliny the Younger, Galen, Lucian, and Clement of Alexandria—also evoke the dramatic death of Polyxena. A survey of these literary appropriations reveals that Philo’s is not a unique application, but rather reflects conventional reading strategies. What emerges, then, is that Philo’s engagement with Greek literature proceeds from within an intellectual tradition that had pre-established moralizing applications of classical texts.

Building on the insights of affect theory, queer theory, and literary-rhetorical analysis, this paper explores two contrasting /ekphraseis/ about anonymous young boys in the martyrological poetry of Prudentius (fl. 405). In one, a child is martyred, suffering graphic violence at the hands of Roman persecutors; in the other, Roman children are the persecutors, viciously (and gleefully) attacking their Christian teacher Cassian with their wax tablets and styli. The passages are parallel: they share imagery, vocabulary, and distinctive narrative elements (including striking moments where the martyr uncharacteristically expresses the extent of his pain); both simultaneously presume and manufacture the reader’s emotional attachment to the children, using what the reader is assumed and encouraged to feel about children to heighten the affective drama of the scene playing before their eyes; both explore the effect of an educational model on a child’s character; and both draw from traditional accounts of childhood to offer the reader models with which to compare the victimized or victimizing children. But these parallels in fact highlight the distances between the narratives, showing, as would a mirror image, the inversion of the two and providing common ground for comparison. The literary elements leave the reader with contrasting lessons about children as religious actors. The cultivated emotional attachment to childhood is used to different effect—in one case to generate sympathy, in the other revulsion. The educational models are gendered differently, with a domestic and maternal education in the case of the martyr and a schoolroom-centered, male-dominated education in the case of the persecutors. And the accounts of childhood draw from different traditions: the child martyr story draws from and re-invents biblical models of childhood, including stories about Isaac and the Maccabean martyrs, while the story in which the children are the aggressors draws from and re-invents Roman educational commonplaces about disgruntled students and the role of corporal punishment in the schoolroom. These two contrasting visualizations thus show Prudentius using representations of childhood violence to delineate Christian values. Exploring these two poles of representation will not only give us a departure point to explore the imaginal limits of violence toward and by children in Latin Christian late antiquity, it will also provide a window into the type of Roman Christian community identity that Prudentius sought to cultivate through his poetry.

This paper will analyze quotations of and allusions to the Hebrew text of the Twelve Minor Prophets found in the War Scroll (1QM). In addition to issues surrounding the identification of biblical quotations and allusions, the paper will also consider the use of quotations and allusions for the textual criticism of the Hebrew Bible.

Contemporary rhetorical theory has demonstrated the propensity for contradiction within metaphor. Rather than disable constructive discourse, metaphor’s generative matrix of perpetual contradiction can facilitate social concord through the union of oppositions. Because this rhetorical tactic can effectively unify two seemingly opposing claims, contemporary politicians often use this strategy to resolve class conflict. Modern speakers and authors did not invent this tactic, but ancient authors typically employed this rhetorical strategy to quell class conflict. This paper argues that Paul in particular used this rhetorical tactic in his metaphor of the body politic in an effort to resolve class conflict in Corinth. While Paul’s body metaphor has been at the center of New Testament scholarship, previous work on the topic neglected the important role that contradiction plays in his metaphor. While scholarship typically argues that his body metaphor in 1 Corinthians 12 is intended to subvert social asymmetries, I contest this claim and argue that the purpose of the metaphor is to justify existing social asymmetries and thereby resolve social unrest in Corinth. Drawing on Bruce Lincoln’s theory of symbolic inversion, I demonstrate how his body metaphor uses contradiction to unify two contradictory claims. I argue further that this union of oppositions has the intended effect of mystifying and naturalizing the existing status hierarchy. Naturalizing the existing status hierarchy ultimately enables Paul to blunt growing concerns over social inequities between members. Examining Paul’s metaphor through the lens of Bruce Lincoln’s theory of symbolic inversion, I conclude that Paul’s body metaphor in 1 Corinthians 12 does not subvert the existing hierarchy, but the underlying intent of the metaphor is to legitimate and naturalize the existing status hierarchy.

The Editio Critica Maior includes versional and patristic material in addition to the Greek evidence. It is not, however, a comprehensive multilingual edition. While all available versional and patristic evidence is made use of, that evidence is carefully sifted and examined in order to find potentially relevant material. The resulting pool of versional and patristic variants is then subjected to rigorous scrutiny in accordance with criteria developed specifically for this edition. This paper will describe the process which leads to the inclusion of versional and patristic evidence in the critical apparatus (or exclusion from it). This will include specific conditions and challenges of individual versions, the criteria for inclusion in the apparatus, different ways of representing versional and patristic information in different parts of the apparatus, and the importance of similarities between versions such as Old Latin, Syriac, Coptic, and Ethiopic for the question of the (formerly) so-called „Western“ text.

In the final redaction of the Book of Isaiah (Jes 56:1-8.65f) the main theological ideas of Isaiah meet and thereby enable us to retrospectively describe the composition of the Book of Isaiah. This is due to the fact that the final redaction takes up already existing lines of composition within the Book of Isaiah and raises their profile regarding a Großjesajabuch. This is particularly notable in the use of the word kabod, which is introduced as early as in chapter 6 and then significantly shapes the whole concept of the theology of Isaiah (Is 8; 30; 40; 60). The unique point concerning Isaiah – for example, in comparison with processes of redaction in the Twelve Minor Prophets – can be found in the fact that the tradents of Isaiah operate from the beginning to the end of the book with one word in order to reformulate central aspects of their respective ideas of God. In the paper this process of the composition of the Book will be presented from the end of the book Is 66:12 to exemplarily demonstrate the techniques, aims and requirements regarding the literary formation of the Book of Isaiah.

In a short line of striking simplicity and beauty, the prophet Micah tells us what God expects from mortals: “Only to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8). The poetic nature of this line is beyond serious question. In comparison, the preamble to the sexual purity laws in Leviticus reads, “My rules you shall observe, and my laws you shall keep, walking by them: I am YHWH your God” (Lev 18:4). If this verse occurred in another context, readers might identify grammatical parallelism, poetic word-pairs, marked diction, and even a “what’s more” heightening literary construction. Situated in a law collection, though, few would call this verse poetic. This paper will examine the compositional style of the Holiness Legislation (HL) in Leviticus 17–26, arguing that it contains many significant examples of literary devices usually associated with poetry. Specifically, HL’s use of parallelism and sentence-level chiasmus will be discussed. Types of parallelism in HL to be explored include correlative (“You shall not insult the deaf, and before the blind you shall not put a stumbling block” [19:14a]), euphemistic (“I will set my face against the person who eats the blood, I will cut him off from among his people,” [17:10b]), explanatory (“You shall fear your God; I am YHWH” [19:32b]), and reformulating (“The nakedness of your father, that is, the nakedness of your mother, you shall not expose. She is your mother! Do not expose her nakedness” [18:7]). Other ancient Near Eastern law collections will also be discussed, showing that the compositional style of HL is unusual in its repeated use of poetic devices. Identifying a characteristic compositional style for HL can help answer whether Holiness material exists outside of Leviticus 17–26, adding another element to the criteria of vocabulary and ideology commonly used to identify Holiness additions outside of HL.

One of the most enduring and controversial questions in Semantics and Linguistics of the New Testament is still, beyond all doubt, the meaning of the Greek lexeme pistis. Indeed, the last and current decades have seen how a good number of researchers have dealt deeply and successfully with such an issue like that, as, for example, Desta Heliso (2007), G. Van Kooten (2012), and the numerous members of his research group, namely "Overcoming the Faith-Reason Opposition: Pauline Pistis in Contemporary Philosophy". However, in my view, by delimiting the problem excessively in the philosophical and rhetorical milieus of these ages, the works have been tending to ponder only the differences between the fideistic and the philosophical meanings of the term and, consequently, forgetting the need for a previous semantic analysis as unavoidable step. In order to fill this gap, my paper will try to elucidate the meaning of pistis by using the categories and analysis’ method of the Greek-Spanish Dictionary of the New Testament. Therefore, to begin with, I will offer an overview of the appearance of the lexeme pistis in context; secondly, I will try to trace the basic meaning and the secondary or contextual meanings of the lexeme; thirdly, the contextual causes of this change of meaning will try to be established. The final section will draw the emerging conclusions.

As explorations of the exilic literature through the lens of trauma theory have continued to emerge, questions regarding the nature of hope and/or recovery from the trauma of Jerusalem's destruction have arisen. Moreover, the complex composition history of the exilic and post-exilic prophets lead to questions of how the traumatic event leaves its imprint on succeeding generations. This paper will investigate how the late exilic and post-exilic material in the Isaiah tradition informs our understanding on the preservation and nature of traumatic memory and its implications for generations of a community that did not initially experience the traumatic events.

Ancient interpreters were so keenly aware of the divergent qualities of Genesis’ creation narratives (1-2:3; 2:4-25) that topoi—the “image of God” and “from the ground”—developed in the Second Temple period and were utilized to describe unique human characteristics either innate or given by God. These literary threads were also employed to acknowledge a unique relationship between God and humanity. In particular, the unique language of Gen 2:7, “of the dust from the ground” (????? ?????????????), was expanded with synonymous phraseology, “out of/from earth” and from “dust/clay.” While the use of the “image of God” in Second Temple, early Rabbinic, and early Christian texts has garnered some attention, Rabbinic literature and the New Testament have received the lion’s share. Additionally, neither the second topos, “out of/from earth” or from “dust/clay,” nor the interplay of both to characterize humanity have gained no attention. Moreover, this study contends that the importance of these topoi were so compelling that they were rhetorically used in the Hodayot to emphasize the lowly state humanity. There-fore, the purpose of this study is to examine their employment in several Second Temple texts (Ben Sira, Wisdom of Solomon, Testament of Naphtali [TNaph], 4 Ezra ) with the additional objective of exploring the manner in which they highlight and intensify the baseness of humanity exhibited in the one of the closing hymns of the Hodayot (20:7-22:42).

Artefacts, relics, and other forms of material culture play important, but often overlooked, roles in religious traditions. They concretize religious expression and foster connections with people and events from long ago and far away. This can likewise be seen among late-antique (third-seventh centuries C.E.) Jews, who connected to their biblical past (1000 B.C.E.–70 C.E.) by depicting the objects used in the Jerusalem Temples in material form and authoring narratives about them. This paper explores how the material culture of the Israelite and Jewish pasts were treated by late-antique Jewish sources. It examines depictions of cultic vessels (e.g. menorah), in mosaics, funerary art, architectural features, and other archaeological finds. Of particular interest are depictions of the menorah on household ceramic oil lamps – themselves repositories and producers of light. These artefacts will be read together with discussions of the Temple vessels in classical rabbinic texts (Talmud, Midrashim). I find that late-antique Jews domesticated and democratized the holy objects that were once the exclusive domain of the Jerusalem priests. They did so in reaction to and competition with the rising interest in religious relics among Christians. Challenging disciplinary boundaries between textual and material studies, this paper contributes to our understanding of ancient Judaism and scholarship on the roles of material culture in religion traditions.

In Rom 3:9b, Paul claims that he “previously charged that all, both Jew and Greek, are under sin.” But where? Theretofore Paul has not said anything at all about sin, much less that everyone is under it. Interpreters assume that Paul is referring to the arguments in 1:18-2:29, even if nothing as yet has been couched in terms of sin. This already problematic view is further challenged by recent scholarship suggesting that Paul’s indictment in 1:18-2:29 is directed primarily, perhaps even exclusively, at Gentiles. This study aims to unfasten the tenuous connection between Rom. 3:9b and Paul’s preceding argumentation by proposing that proaitiaomai need not refer to a charge levied beforehand in the selfsame letter. Paul’s own usage of the pro- prefix with verbs of communication--and other Greek usage--demonstrates as much. In 2 Cor 7:3, 2 Cor 13:2, 1 Thess 3:4, and Gal 5:21, such prefixed verbs refer to advice given not previously in the letter, but on previous occasions. Likewise in Eph 3:3, pseudo-Paul probably refers to something he (or Paul) wrote in a previous epistle. One need not look far to find a previous occasion on which Paul charged that all humanity is under sin, for in Gal 3:22 he says exactly that: “scripture has imprisoned everything under sin.” Thus, when he says in Rom 3:9b that neither Jew nor Gentile has an advantage because he has previously charged both with being under sin, Paul refers either to the charge levied in Galatians—a letter with which some Romans may have been familiar—or, as is more likely, to a charge Paul levied numerous times in numerous places during his preaching career. Then Paul buttresses that claim--introduced in Romans for the first time here--with a scriptural catena, indeed possibly the very "scripture" to which he alluded in Gal 3:22.

In this paper we will explore the contributions the Luwian versions make in better understanding the Phoenician verbal system, as well as how Phoenician syntax can help us better understand the Luwian verbal system and its categorization of the Imperative and Indicative moods. We will examine the use of subordinating and volitional verb forms in both the Phoenician and Luwian versions of the inscription, and look at several examples taken from the Luwian corpus which support our claims. We will describe syntactic constructions and morphologically marked verbal forms which are used to convey non-indicative moods, and we will define the function of subordinating forms used in connection with volitive moods in the inscriptional material. We will demonstrate that rather than variant forms of the Luwian Present Indicative, that subordinating and volitional verb forms were marked and employed, and that Phoenician supported the same type of volitive expressions used to convey elements of wishes and modality. We will also highlight how these elements help define syntactic boundaries within the Phoenician expressions of blessings within the inscription.

The night visions (Zech 1:8–6:8*) form the core of Zechariah’s writing, before being combined with Hag 1-2* and then being included in the nascent Book of the Twelve (Schart, Woehrle). Within this basic layer Zechariah is not communicating immediately with God, but the "messenger who talks with me" acts as intermediary between God and prophet: He allows the prophet to see the visionary scenes and interprets them. Regarding the prophetic literature as a whole this mediation process marks a decisive turning point. Zech 1:8–6:8* is the oldest record introducing a prophet who requires the mediation of a mal'ak to receive the divine message. Given the commotion of faith in the exilic period the night visions are groping towards a new relationship with God in an "interplay of veiling and unveiling" (Lux) which holds a future for Jerusalem and Judah. The different messenger figures simultaneously draw attention to the distance between heaven and earth, protect the prophet resp. Jerusalem and Judah from God's wrath (Zech 1:12.15; 6:8) and gradually overcome the separation from God. Some later texts refer to this distribution of roles between the prophet and the mal'ak (Num 22:22-35; 1Ki 19:3-8; 2Ki 1:1-18; 1Ch 21:18 as well as Dan 8:15-26; 9:20-27; 10:4-21), unlike the subsequent redactional layers of the Book of the Twelve. Within Zechariah especially the "word redaction" (Woehrle), also responsible for the composition of the Hag-Zech-corpus, emphasizes the immediate contact between God and prophet by introducing the “Wortereignisformel” (“the word Yhwh’s came to Zechariah“; Zech 1:1.7; 7:1; 8:1 etc.). Also Haggai and Malachi revise the idea of a mediated prophetic contact to God by calling the prophet Haggai himself "mal’ak yhwh" (Hag 1:13), whereas Malachi („my messenger“; Mal 1:1) carries the description of his role even within his name. The encounter between mal’ak and prophet in Zechariah’s night visions mark a turning point in the portray of the prophet and, as I will specify in my habilitation, also in the development of the mal'ak yhwh.

Wealth in the Qur'an is a fickle substance. Gold is not an adequate currency to cover thevcost of one's redemption at the judgment (Q ‘Ali ‘Imran 3:91), and the possession of wealth is itself a sort of "test" (Q Taghabun 64:15). Usury (riba), the principle purpose of which is the increase of wealth, has "no increase with God" (see, e.g., Q Rum 30:38–39; Q Baqarah 2:276). Conversely it is charity (?adaqa and zakat) that produces a real profit: ?adaqa and zakat are called a "loan" (qar?) to God, in whose hands the funds multiply (see, e.g., Q ?adid 57:11, 18). One of the surprising effects of such a loan to God is that it atones (kaffara) for sins (Q Ma’ida 5:12; cf. Q 2:271). How may we understand the relation of these concepts to one another, and what might this say about the traditions with which they are in conversation? The concepts of wealth, charity, and usury in the Qur'an are embedded in the worldviews of the Bible, early Judaism, and Christianity. Wealth's inability to save from death makes it unworthy of trust (Psa 49:6–7; cf. Prov 10:2, 11:4, 28). One can, however, through charity, loan to God with the hope of repayment (Prov 19:17). Almsgiving likewise funds a heavenly treasury in the New Testament (Luke 12). Where the Qur'anic passages draw from the Bible, however, it is likely through Christian and Jewish mediators of that tradition: Jacob of Serugh's homilies proclaim wealth a "trap and snare," but also recommend being "rich toward God" through charity. Likewise, several of Ephrem's hymns praise the charitable for sending their wealth ahead to heaven, a deed by which saints have incredibly become God's creditors. Jewish sources likewise define the significance of almsgiving as an investment with an enduring principle in heaven and interest that pays in this world. In other cases the Hebrew zakah ("to be pure"), like Qur'anic zakat, appears in reference to almsgiving. In this broad linguistic and religious context, we can also understand the peculiar statement in the Qur'an, that charity––as a loan to God––has an expiatory, atoning (kaffara) function. Q Tawbah 9:102–103 notably employs verbs of cleansing (?ahhara and zakka) to talk about the benefits of charity. It seems probable that this draws upon a linguistic and religious development in the Second-Temple period wherein expiation in the Hebrew Bible began to reflect language of the clearing and satisfaction of debt claims. ?adaqa and zakat, then, should be understood as developments of Jewish and Christian theologies of wealth.

In Plant. 46–58 Philo offers an allegorical exegesis of Exod 15:17–18, in which Moses prays that God may plant his people in the mountain of his inheritance. In these verses God is presented as planter and the notion of ‘planting’ is the connection with the main biblical lemma of Plant., Gen 6:9, where Noah is said to plant a vineyard. Philo interprets the mountain of God’s inheritance (klèronomia) as the cosmos because what comes into being is the allotment (klèros) of its maker. He also refers to an interpretation of others allegorists who say that God’s allotment is the good. In Philo’s exegesis the noun klèros, which has several meanings (‘lot’, ‘inheritance’ or ‘part’), plays a key role. All the several meanings are involved. The tribe of the Levites is called God’s klèros, and later on Philo discusses the portion of the Levites at considerable length (§§62–72). In the commentary the structure of this section is laid out. Attention is paid to theological and philosophical ideas, for instance the doctrine of the divine powers and aspects of Stoic ethics to which Philo refers. Furthermore, linguistic aspects are discussed, since Philo often employs words that are rarely used.

On Easter 1992, in the midst of the AIDS crisis, Jim Mitulski, senior pastor of the Metropolitan Community Church of San Francisco (MCCSF), preached a sermon about resurrection power. He drew on John 20, a traditional Easter text, but his second source was decidedly more contemporary: an except from Cancer in Two Voices by lesbian writers Sandra Butler and Barbara Rosenblum. Mitulski used the pairing of sacred Christian text and emergent LGBT literature to urge the largely gay congregation to see the Christian resurrection story as their own, a story specific to gay and lesbian people living through AIDS. MCCSF is a significant site where sexual and religious identities intersected. Located in the Castro neighborhood, ground zero of the AIDS crisis in San Francisco, the church became an important community center in that seemingly secular community, hosting community forums and organizing responses to the AIDS crisis, housing dozens of recovery meetings, and conducting hundreds of AIDS funerals. It also became a congregational laboratory for the development of gay liberation and queer theology by its clerical staff and the many gay-positive leaders and theologians that preached from its pulpit. The church is a rich historical case for studying efforts at mutually constructing sexual and religious identities, liturgies, and canons in a time when Christianity and homosexuality were widely viewed as irreconcilable. Drawing upon a newly available archive of sermon transcripts, this paper will analyze Jim Mitulski’s construction of a queer Christian canon consisting of both biblical texts and lesbian and gay literature in sermons delivered at MCCSF between 1986 and 2001. It will pay particular attention to how the pairing of Christian and LGB texts was used to maintain a gay- and sex-positive position in the face of AIDS while using AIDS as an opportunity to both draw upon the Christian tradition for spiritual sustenance and to challenge its adequacy in the face of the crisis. It will demonstrate how Mitulski tried to build a queer canon, not just by queering biblical texts but by sacralizing queer ones through the juxtaposition with traditional biblical materials.

Over thirty years ago, Norbert Lohfink proposed the existence of a Deuteronomistic conquest narrative spanning from Deut 1 to Josh 22 (DtrL, “deuteronomistische Landeroberungserzählung”) that was composed during the time of Josiah and thus preceded the formation of the larger, exilic Deuteronomistic History (DtrG). According to Lohfink, the use of the verb “yarash” (Qal and Hiphil) is a characteristic element of DtrL and most likely reflects Josiah’s expansionist policies in the late 7th century. While Lohfink’s notion of an originally independent DtrL composition has not found widespread acceptance (though it has recently had a limited revival among some scholars), subsequent research has continued to assume that the verb “yarash” reflects Deuteronomistic usage, broadly understood. This paper will demonstrate, in contrast, that most of the occurrences of this verb in Deuteronomy and Joshua are in fact found in post-priestly compositional contexts, suggesting that the characterization of the verb “yarash” as Deuteronomistic only addresses part of a larger picture. It will argue, furthermore, that the concepts of the possession of the land and the dispossession of its former inhabitants expressed by the verb “yarash” should be associated not with Josiah’s expansionist efforts in the 7th century but rather with the circumstances of the Persian period following the return from exile—a possibility that Lohfink in fact raised but dismissed prematurely. Finally, on a broader methodological level, this paper seeks to reiterate the insufficiency of investigating the books of Deuteronomy and Joshua solely or primarily within the context of the so-called Deuteronomistic History, for in doing so, the degree to which these books also developed within the horizon of a Hexateuch (both pre- and post-priestly) risks being overlooked.

Is the Trinity materially present in the Old Testament’s textual witness? Answering this question remains an enduring challenge for hermeneutical instincts shaped by modernity’s heightened historical consciousness. Certainly Moses was not a Trinitarian, was he? This paper affirms Brevard Childs’s claim that the early church’s struggle to come to terms with Trinitarian logic was not a battle against the Old Testament but was a battle for it. Or in other terms, the characterization of Yhwh in the Old Testament in relation to his Word, Wisdom, Spirit, and Angel (mal’akh) is a narratival dynamic necessitating an external hermeneutical grammar. The Trinitarian distinctions derived from the church’s speculative theology, distinctions such as person and substance or names pertaining to essence and relation, provide a hermeneutical rationale for the Old Testament’s own internal logic regarding the singularity of Yhwh and the sharing of his singular identity in differentiated personae. Drawing on such diverse figures as Augustine, Aquinas, John Owen, and Benjamin Sommer, this paper will argue for the insoluble relationship between Trinitarian doctrine and Old Testament exegesis regarding the divine name and identity.

Lacunae in the slave law of 4Q159 frustrate attempts to reconstruct its commands, logic, and purpose. I argue that the best clue to its purpose and contents comes in an analogous slave law in 4QDf, which focuses on the redemption (????) of an enslaved Israelite. Assuming ???? to be the theme of the law of 4Q159 brings an external control to bear on its interpretation and allows a greater degree of confidence in the restoration of crucial lacunae in its first line. The reading that results seems superior to previous proposals insofar as it shows consistency with other sectarian halakhic and eschatological texts, e.g., MMT and the Eschatological Midrash and repeats the ancient habit of interpreting the slave laws of Deut 15 through those of Lev 25. Further, my proposal affirms Moshe Weinfeld's longstanding speculation that the presentation of laws in 4Q159 is at least partially governed by the order of laws in Deuteronomy.

Parallelism usually focuses on one fact, action or message, which is presented it in two different ways. Thereby the contiguous lines of parallelism superimpose an at least slightly divergent view of the same event or message. Adele Berlin calls the effect of such a perception a “binocular vision”. Such emphasis on the point of view goes beyond a mere description of parallelism as a poetic phenomenon and includes its cognitive dimension. Recently, various studies on biblical anthropology also address the cognitive-noetic dimension of parallelism emphasising the multidimensional aspects of perception and thinking it initiates. In this way, parallelism opens a space were dynamic insights might unfold. Following this approach my paper will focus on one specific form of change between perspectives, were, on the one hand, an event is presented as a result of an action, and, on the other hand, the same event is shown from the perspective of someone who experiences this action. Because many of such examples express “cause” and “effect”, they are usually subsumed under the category “subordination”. Yet, the explicit change between an event or a causal agent and the perspective of the affected yields more than an assessment of a causal or consecutive argument may provide. If an event is presented from two distinctly different perspectives, the diverging estimations, explicit emotional responses, or new conjunctions (may) challenge the anticipated images evoked by the first or second part alone. In this way the recipients are presented two distinct sides of the same coin, and it is their task to correlate these images. Based on psalms 90–106 I will describe the performance of this specific variety of presenting diverging perspectives through parallelism. For this purpose, I will first analyse the syntactic and semantic structures of the examples whereby special attention will be given to evaluations, emotions and also metaphorical images. Subsequently, I will focus on the interaction of the different perspectives. For that the theory of “blending” will be applied to outline the interaction and consolidation of the distinct perspectives.

This paper analyses the significance of the juxtaposition of episodes/stores in the Book of Joshua and proposes that this is an interpretative key both for the final form of the book, and for its earlier stages when redactors brought the various episodes together. It argues that pericopes in the narrative are re-evaluated and given a new interpretation based on their new contexts. The literary features that promote this reinterpretation will also be examined. The primary examples I will focus upon are the allusions to the exodus story in Joshua 3-5 which are brought to the fore by juxtaposition; the undermining of Joshua 6 by juxtaposition with Joshua 7; the interpretive effect of repetition in Joshua 7:26 and 8:29; and plot reversal in Joshua 9-11. I will conclude by showing how disparate stories are brought into dialogue with one another by juxtaposition, resulting in a comprehensible, if complex, message in the final form of the book.

Acts of Thomas is structured around narrative disruption of identity, in multiple senses of the word. Most fundamentally, identity refers to selfhood or personal identity—what makes a person unique. Concern with identity extends beyond questions about selfhood to include questions about both spatiotemporal continuity and the relationship between individual and group identity. Exposition of Christian identity in Acts of Thomas implicates these multiple senses of identity. Supplanting corporate identification according to geography, language, and race/ethnicity, Acts of Thomas constructs an alienated, exilic identity dependent on relationship with Jesus and expressed through polymorphy of various kinds, identity epitomized, not without ambiguity, as radical twinning with Christ. What do I mean by an alienated, exilic identity? In Acts of Thomas, we confront "those differences that make us more than we are, recognizable perhaps for a moment in our path of becoming and self-overcoming but never fixed in terms of how we can be read (by others), or how we classify ourselves, never the basis of an identity or a position, ever a fractured identity and multiple positions" (Elizabeth Grosz, Becoming Undone: Darwinian Reflections of Life, Politics, and Art, p. 91).

On the basis EU funded EuroPLOT project an open-source and open-access web-based platform “Bible Online Learner”/Bible OL (http://bibleol.3bmoodle.dk/) was developed. Bible OL allows for corpus-based teaching and learning of Biblical Languages. In lated 2014 the Eep Talstra Centre for Bible and Coumputer at VU University gave open access to its feature-rich database. Any language instructor can now for the Biblical Hebrew class quickly construct exercises that focus on any chosen linguistic level (alphabet, vocabulary, morphology, phrase analysis [subject, object, predicate, etc.], clause types, clause relations [attributive, adjunctive, etc.]). Nicolai Winther-Nielsen will describe the latest achievements by the Global Learning Initiative (http://global-learning.org/) which supports collaboraton among developers, partners and teachers. He will present three new or updated features are being developed during 2015 in collaboration with programmers Claus Tøndering and Judith Gottschalk. First, the learning outcomes of students are documented in a skill optimizing application called Learning Journey; teachers can monitor the learning curve of students and give informed feedback on performance on regular bases, and students can compete with each other. Second, a new application will help students determine lexical meaning in context. Third, In early 2015 the syntactically analyzed Greek Text of the Global Bible Initiative was implemented for the open source Nestle 1904, and he will invite colleagues to join in the development of new courses for Greek. He emphasize the need to join forces in supporting settings where poverty or persecution restricts language learning and he will invite students to participate in a competition to support global learning. Oliver Glanz will show how the architecture of Bible OL allows to partner with scholars, resaerch teams and institutions to further improve corpus based learning. A good example is the cooperation with shebanq.ancient-data.org (receiver of the Digital Humanity Awards 2014) and Andrews University. Oliver Glanz will demonstrate three major results of this collaboration. First, due to the same database implemented in the query site SHEBANQ and the learning site Bible OL the user can compose very detailed exercises. Second, due to SHEBANQ enabled queries all different verbal classes (e.g. i-nun, iii-he, etc.) were detected and integrated in Bible OL. This allows Hebrew instructors to filter out any verbal class that student are not yet prepared to analyze. At the same time the instructor can select those classes that have been covered in the teachings so far and present them as exercises to students. Third, through the implementation of the Bible OL in several Hebrew courses at Andrews critical data can be generated that allows for measuring learning efficiency. Statistical analyses show that the average student performance has significantly increased through Bible OL. The subjective experience of more than 100 students that joined Bible OL based Hebrew classes supports the statistics. The great majority of students regards the combination of the Bible OL, a corpus-based approach and a Hebrew Reference Grammar as clearly outperforming the pedagogical efficiency of textbook-based, classical teaching methods. A short overview on how the BOL can be integrated in a Hebrew course will given.

This paper will take note of three aspects of historiographic periodization that permeate the genealogy lists in Chronicles. The first is the tendency of the lists to compress past and present - a phenomenon that corresponds well with the Chronicler's desire to emphasize the timeless dimension of certain ideals, among them his view of Israelite identity as encompassing all of its ancient constituent elements. The second is the mention of particular kings in the genealogy lists (Saul, David, Solomon, Jotham, and Hezekiah) in connection with events or actions that suit the positive tenor of their reigns, as reported in or alluded to later on in the Chronicler's continuous historical narrative. The third is the chronological centrality of the Davidic period in the genealogical lists of priests and levites - a phenomenon that implicitly underscores David's key role in the history of the cult, as spelled out on numerous occasions throughout the Chronicler's historiography. When taken together, the above three points demonstrate the value of probing the Chronicler's genealogy lists in terms of how they can contribute to appreciating the Chronicler's unique historical outlook.

J.T. Milik in his justly famous The Books of Enoch (1976) published the editio princeps of the Book of Giants fragments from Qumran. In the same book he also published an edition of a late rabbinic text known as the “Midrash of Shem?azai and Azael.” He discerned that this midrashic work has a significant amount of material in common with the Book of Giants fragments. In this paper I explore this under-utilized midrashic resource for understanding the Book of Giants. I examine the rabbinic sources for the “Midrash of Shem?azai and Azael,” which are not fully represented in Milik’s edition. Milik, though his opinions on these two texts and the relationship between them are at times unpersuasive, was fully correct that this midrashic text can help us better understand key details of the Qumranic text, which are often unclear, due to the highly fragmentary condition of the text. In my paper I discuss the major instances in which this is the case. My chief conclusion is that the “Midrash of Shem?azai and Azael” suggests that in Book of Giants at least some of the giants do not perish in the flood, whereas a leading view today holds that in this work all the giants die in the flood.

Qoheleth’s Gospel in Ecclesiastes: Eccl 3:1-15, 7:15-22 and 11:1-6 Considered

The paper will attempt to deal (by close reading of diverse passages) with some examples of the place of small collections and compilations within the composition of the book of Isaiah, and especially with the dislocation and relocation of sources, as part of the different redaction phases of Isaiah 1-39.

Francis Watson's Gospel Writing fills the void left by the absence of Q with a sayings gospel genre instantiated by Thomas. But does the absence of Q require an appeal to Thomas? If Thomas is a second century work familiar with the Synoptics, how far can it help with reflections on first century Christian origins? In the aftermath of Watson's work, is there still a future for Sayings Gospels?

Lev 22:24 is found in a passage enumerating various physical blemishes which exclude an animal from being offered as a sacrifice. Lev 22:24A lists four kinds of genital mutilation which are prohibited for sacrificial animals. However, the second half of the verse adds, "And in your land you shall not do [thus]," which is understood by most modern commentaries as a reiteration for emphasis of the first half of the verse. In contrast, ancient commentaries and some moderns understand the clause as a general prohibition on castration for domesticated animals in the land of Israel. This issue has several important ramifications for life in ancient Israel. First, the prohibition of castration would have led to an excessive number of intact males, which cannot be utilized for the purposes of plowing and pulling because they are unmanageable. (For the purpose of insemination, one male can supply the needs of tens of females.) As a consequence, more (male) animals would have available for sacrifice and consumption. Therefore, while most scholars assume that ancient Israelites rarely ate meat, this may not have been the case. This interpretation is also relevant for understanding the Israelite attitude to animals, especially those of the flock and herd. Further, an examination of the terminology for bovines in Biblical Hebrew is important for understanding Exodus 21's legislation on “the goring ox” (or is that “the goring bull”?). This paper, after careful examination of biblical law in general and H in particular, will confirm the interpretation of ancient exegetes that Lev 22:24B served as a ban on animal castration.

A number of patristics scholars, including Frances Young, Eric Osborn, Paul Blowers, Prosper Grech, Lewis Ayres, and others have recently drawn attention to the functions and features of the regula fidei/kanon tes pistes, or "rule(s)" of faith, in early Christian hermeneutical reflection on and engagement with scripture. Osborn, in particular, has demonstrated the similarities between the Christian employment of the "rule(s)" and the epistemological functions of kanoni/regulae in antecedent Greco-Roman philosophy. Starting especially from Osborn's work on the potential philosophical context of the "rule(s)," the present essay will provide a historical examination of the functions and features of the "rule(s)" in the writings of Irenaeus, Origen, and Augustine, to identify commonalities and developments in the use of the rule as a hermeneutical criterion for Christian engagement with scripture. Through my examination of the use of the "rule(s)" in these figures I will argue that the "rule(s)" represent accounts of 1.) ecclesially received judgments constitutive of Christian faith which are born in worship and employed for catechetical and polemical needs, 2.) which insist upon the synthetic and sequential relationships of divine and human actors in the redemptive activity of the Son and Holy Spirit in history, 3.) have a consistently realist cast--that is, they are not merely grammatical guidelines for Christian speech but refer to the actuality of God's action in history--and 4.) exhibit and remain open to further development and specification as specific theological questions arose in the Christian communities' ongoing reflection on the relationships between the Father, Son, and Spirit and the constitution and nature of the Son and the Holy Spirit. The "rule(s)" then, bear witness to Christian self-understanding on the move which are antecedent to the two-Testament Bible and which specify the actual content of scripture--to quote Augustine, the rule provides in concise fashion the res to which scripture refers. A number of contemporary theologians have proposed the utility of the "rule(s)" or of creedal affirmations for Christian engagement with scripture today. My presentation will conclude with a critique of some of these recent approaches and will suggest principles for responsibly and adequately understanding the actual historical employment of the "rule(s)" in the early church and for appropriating the "rule(s)" in the service of Christian hermeneutics and exegesis of scripture in our own time.

John Kloppenborg’s analysis of the stratigraphy of Q stands as one of the most comprehensive and consistent approaches to the composition and genre of Q as we are able to reconstruct it. His work, along with that of Ronald Piper and others, have highlighted the integrity of independent collections of aphoristic sayings within the “formative stratum” of Q. Each collection, or “cluster,” contains “hortatory sayings, topically arranged,” some being “prefaced with programmatic pronouncements” and concluding with warnings or sanctions “that underscore the gravity of the discourse” (Kloppenborg-Verbin, Excavating Q, 145-55). Within one of these clusters, delineated by Kloppenborg as Q 12:2-7, 11-12, sits the saying about the necessity of appropriate fear: “And do not be afraid of those who kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul; rather, be afraid of the one who is able to destroy both body and soul in Gehenna” (Q 12:4-5). In Kloppenborg’s analysis of this cluster, he concludes that 12:4-5 is the “kernel” around which other sayings have been added. Piper argues that the saying of 12:4-5 is the beginning of a collection of sayings, stretching at least as far as verse 9. Christopher Tuckett suggests that these verses are themselves a later interpolation into another collection of sayings. This paper reexamines the saying of Q 12:4-5 within its immediate context. I agree with Kloppenborg’s delineation of the original cluster, but I do not find 12:4-5 to be key to the cluster’s composition. Instead, I argue that the saying of Q 12:4-5 is included within this cluster in order to bolster the significance of the cluster’s programmatic statement in 12:2-3: “Nothing is hidden that will not be exposed, and hidden that will not be known. What I say to you in the dark, speak in the light; and what you hear whispered in the ear, proclaim on the housetops.” This “bolstering” accomplished by Q 12:4-5’s two-fold function: first, it quells inappropriate fear of humans, epitomized in the synagogue of Q 12:11-12; second, it instills in the listeners an appropriate fear of God, the one who has, though his envoy, called his audience to participate in the revealing of things once hidden and cryptic (12:2-3). The listeners are to take seriously the mission with which they have been tasked, and the double-saying on fear admonishes them not to allow their fear of humans (inappropriate fear) to outweigh their fidelity to God or their devotion to their task (appropriate fear).

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It is considered weakness for leaders to express emotion. Crying is a sign of breaking down and therefore not acceptable. David's advisers criticize his all too human sorrow on the death of his son Absalom (2 Samuel 19:2-8). Like David, Jacob is inconsolable and weeps and mourns and rents his clothes and goes into deep mourning when he hears of his beloved son Joseph's death (Gen. 37:34-35). Both David and Jacob refuse to be comforted. In contrast Aaron is silent (va-yidom Aharon) on hearing of the death of his two sons Nadav and Avihu (Lev. 10:3). Moreover, Moses orders him not to show outward signs of mourning and to carry on normal work, for not to do so, would lead to his death. Aaron seemingly follows these orders. It is his wife, Elisheba the daughter of Amminadab, who is allowed to mourn in rabbinic literature: "when her sons entered to offer incense and were burnt, her joy was changed to mourning" (Leviticus Rabbah 20:2). One of the few commentators to address Aaron's emotions is Nachmanides, the 13th century medieval Jewish scholar. His comment on Numbers 10, states that the verse “And Aaron was silent” actually "means that he had cried aloud, but then became silent." Nachmanides uses as a prooftext the verse from Lamentations 2:18: “Give yourself no respite, your eyes no rest (tidom)” to show that Aaron did express normal emotions. Was Aaron affected in any way by "bottling up" his emotions? This paper will first compare the emotional reaction of David and Jacob to their sons' deaths and then will contrast and examine Aaron's stoic behavior by looking at the psychological and midrashic literature on the efficacy of crying as an expression of emotion.

In Rom 3:4, Paul offers a citation from Ps 51:4 (Ps 50:6 LXX) that poses an interpretive difficulty for scholars. The problem centers on how Paul uses Ps 51:4 within the argument found in Rom 3:1-8. Scholars propose two views. The first view holds that Paul is affirming God’s right to judge the Jews (Thomas R. Schreiner, Douglas J. Moo, Mark Seifrid, William Sanday and Arthur C. Headlam), while the second maintains that Paul is affirming God’s faithfulness despite Israel’s unfaithfulness (N. T. Wright, Robert Jewett, James D. G. Dunn, Joseph A. Fitzmyer). In this paper, I propose a third option. I will argue that Paul is alluding to the Davidic Covenant when citing Ps 51:4 in order to account for the judging and saving features of God’s faithfulness in his current dealings with Israel and the Gentiles. I will defend my thesis by demonstrating that first, Paul has a covenantal context in mind in Rom 3:1–8. Second, his selection of the Psalms as the means through which he alludes to the Davidic covenant further strengthens his argument. Third, seeing this allusion best answers the three questions posed by the interlocutor in vv. 1, 3, and 5.

The paper discusses the thesis proposed by Bezalel Porten about the orientation of the temple of YHW in Elephantine. According to Porten, the temple was intentionally oriented toward Jerusalem. Moreover, according to Porten, the physical orientation of the temple of YHW toward Jerusalem also reflected the “sacred orientation” of the Judaean community in Elephantine. To the knowledge of the author of the paper, Porten’s theory has never really been discussed in the history of research on Elephantine. The present paper attempts to scrutinise Porten’s theory under three rubrics: 1. The concept of sacred direction in biblical texts (texts from the Hebrew Bible/Old Testament and the Apocrypha), 2. The Elephantine Judaean temple theology (based on the documents of the Judaeans in Elephantine), and 3. The longitudinal orientation of the temple in the light of the general orientation of the ancient town (the archaeology of the ancient town of Elephantine). The present author’s conclusion is that Porten’s theory about the orientation of the temple of YHW being intentionally oriented toward Jerusalem is unlikely from the perspective of all three rubrics mentioned above.

A major concern of biblical studies and western Qur'anic studies in the 19th century was to reconstruct the process by which the texts were written and to assign dates to the various units of text. One important criterion for establishing a chronology of textual development was literary style. It was thought that differences in style could be used to identify different authors, and that it was possible to separate earlier from later material by describing how style evolved over time. Such thinking was employed in 19th century studies of the Pentateuch and Isaiah, and it was also employed in the seminal work of Nöldeke-Schwally, The History of the Qur'an (Geschichte des Qorans). Many modern Qur'anic scholars (e.g., A. Neuwirth, C. Ernst, N. Robinson, R. Farrin) continue to regard Nöldeke-Schwally as a viable framework for understanding the chronology of the suras of the Qur'an. Similarly, biblical scholarship continues to operate with conceptions of the composition of the Pentateuch and Isaiah that bear genetic similarities with the 19th century theories of Wellhausen and Duhm (despite some major paradigm shifts in Pentateuchal studies). This paper will reconsider the specifically stylistic criteria used by Nöldeke-Schwally in reconstructing the chronology of the Qur'an, and will compare this analysis with related studies from the same period on the Pentateuch and Isaiah. The main questions will be: What are considered to be characteristics of early style rather than late style? What is the basis for thinking that we can recognize early stylistic features and how style evolved over time? Which styles are evaluated positively? Which are viewed negatively? How does the evaluation of styles impact judgments about chronology? How are stylistic criteria used to identify interpolations? This paper will attempt to describe some key assumptions common among 19th century oriental scholars about religion, aesthetics, and history that underlie important elements of the literary theories of Nöldeke-Schwally and 19th century biblical criticism. In the end, these assumptions may not be entirely suitable for understanding the Pentateuch, Isaiah, or the Qur'an; rather, they are distinctively 19th century ideas that reflect the situated nature of this scholarship. It will not be argued that 19th century scholarship was without merit. On the contrary, these studies made great contributions, even in the midst of their comments about style. It will be suggested, however, that it is not advisable to adopt 19th century literary chronologies of these biblical and Qur'anic texts without seriously rethinking their appeal to style in identifying early and late material.

In C.S. Lewis’ Screwtape Letters, the demon Wormwood discusses the usefulness of “the Quest for the Historical Jesus” for accomplishing his nefarious purposes. The Quest’s usefulness for him amounts to a critique of sorts on the part of the author. This paper gives a close reading of this particular “letter,” situates it in the context of mid-century New Testament scholarship, and examines its relation to themes found in Lewis’ broader corpus.

Whose Justice Is It Anyway? Analyzing a Matrix of Identity Geopolitics in the Parable of the Widow and the Judge (Luke 18:1-8)

The long history of ancient Near Eastern laws limiting women's access to marital property offers a new perspective on Abigail's bold actions in 1Sam 25:4–42. These restrictive laws, attested over many centuries, evidently represented deeply rooted customs. Examples are to be found among the Old Babylonian and Middle Assyrian laws; and the later continuity of these restrictions is attested in formal law statements preserved in the Mishnah (for Palestine), Talmud (for Babylonia), and Syriac-Roman lawbooks (Syria). We are looking particularly at laws limiting women's legal rights to dispose of marital property in commercial activity, specifically, sale and deposit. While similarly explicit restrictions are not preserved among the extant biblical laws, we nevertheless believe that these restrictive norms were likewise operative in Israelite society and look to find them in the narrative describing the interactions between Abigail, her husband Nabal, and David. Assuming the presence of such norms may provide a deeper understanding of Abigail's story and why it was retold in the Hebrew Bible.

The middle chapters of the book of Joshua are filled, for the most part, with place names, many of which are found nowhere else in the biblical text. It is tempting to skip over those chapters, as many readers do. However, textual critics, among others, are not allowed such latitude. What sorts of aids are available to help us navigate through this territory? And what types of results are we likely to come up with? These are among the issues we discuss, centering our analysis on specific examples and sites.

First Kings 22 appears to depict two opposing conclusions to Ahab’s life. According to 1 Kgs 22:33–37, the “king of Israel” was lethally struck by an Aramean’s arrow. Upon his death the “the king” was subsequently buried in Samaria. Three verses later, however, Ahab “slept with his fathers.” The discrepancy in the manner of death for Israel’s king has led commentators to assume that the Deuteronomistic Historian conflated two separate narratives, and assigned a non-Ahabite tradition to the unnamed king in 1 Kgs 22. According to J. M. Miller, this phrase “appears elsewhere in his history only in the cases of those kings who died a natural death” (J. M. Miller, 1966; M. White, 1994). Simon DeVries presses the implications by stating that the phrase “has to mean that he died in peace and honor, and therefore cannot apply to the king of v. 37” (1985). It is thus argued that verses 37 and 40 cannot refer to the same king. In reassessing the prevailing thought regarding the identity of the unnamed king in 1 Kgs 22, this paper will consider three specific areas of inquiry. First, it will consider other examples within the Deuteronomistic History in which unnamed kings play a prominent role in the narrative. Second, it will reexamine the lexical evidence within the Deuteronomistic History regarding the usage of the phrase “slept with his fathers.” Third, it will reckon with the historian’s portrait of Jehosphaphat, particularly as it pertains to his alliance with this king. Ultimately, this paper will argue that since Ahab did not die as a result of a palace coup, and because he was an ally with the pious Jehoshaphat, the historian, in fact, identifies the “king of Israel” throughout 1 Kgs 22 as Ahab.

Traditionally, scholarship on early Judaism has assumed that the socio-religious influence of priests was largely restricted to the cultic sphere of the Jerusalem temple, while other groups (including scribes, Pharisees, and proto-Rabbis) were popular leaders of Jewish communities and institutions in areas outside of Jerusalem. However, a growing corpus of epigraphic, literary, and archaeological evidence suggests that, before 70 C.E., the socio-religious influence of Jewish priests extended well beyond the Jerusalem temple cult and that, after 70, much of that priestly influence persevered within some circles of the Jewish community. In particular, priests seem to have been much more involved in early synagogue leadership and liturgy than was previously assumed. This paper will consider the evidence for priestly leadership in some synagogues and the role priests played in facilitating divine worship in synagogue settings during the Second Temple (pre-70) and late Roman (post-70) periods. Evidence for priestly involvement in synagogues can be found in funerary and dedicatory inscriptions, in the writings of Philo, Josephus, the Dead Sea Scrolls, and the Mishnah, and in the surviving features of some early synagogue buildings. This confluence of evidence suggests that, in many Jewish communities, priests presided over synagogue activities and provided divine mediation in synagogue liturgy through their offering of prayers, the exercising of their legal rights to read and teach the Torah, and their bestowing divine beneficence upon congregations in the form of the priestly blessing. Such activities reflect the extra-temple functions of priests before 70 C.E. and the continuation of those functions for centuries after the temple’s destruction. They also show that, while some Jewish circles after 70 shifted their religious focus to the leadership of lay Torah scholars (such as the early Rabbis), others continued to view hereditary priests as the mediating link between God and the Jewish community.

Students today are digital natives. Most have spent significant time immersed in video games, smart phones, tablets, and countless computer technologies. These students are inherently comfortable and capable of navigating complex visual and spatial environments while processing vast amounts of information. Most academic teaching today, however, relies heavily (and at times, exclusively) on textual and logical argument to engage the learners. This can lead to an inordinate focus on what we are teaching while disregarding who we are teaching. Much more could be done to bridge this technological gap between academic teaching styles and current learning preferences. Immersive technologies can be used in academic settings to increase a “sense of time and space” for the students. These tools make it easier for the students to visualize what they are reading about. For instance, we could show students a 2D map of ancient Jerusalem with arrows proposing a route that Jesus followed during his final 24 hours or we could show them a virtual fly-over of the various sites in a 3D immersive environment. We could show them a diagram of Herod’s Second Temple or let them walk through it much like they would navigate a video game. If a teacher today wants to engage learners at a deeper level in ancient stories, these immersive technologies become an inviting portal for them. This presentation will “practice what it preaches” by showing many examples of how various forms of interactive tools and apps can be used to enhance the teaching of a variety of pericopes in the New and Old Testaments. While some of the tools demonstrated are available for sharing, others are available for purchase as an app, and others are not yet accessible for distribution. This will also be an opportunity to find other academics who have the interest and means to help contribute in designing and developing similar teaching tools to be shared. The goal of the presentation is not to minimize non-visual teaching practices that have proven effective. The presentation will (1) demonstrate a vision of how new immersive technologies can be used to engage our learners at deeper levels with ancient texts, (2) show how these tools can be used for teaching a variety of passages from any number of theological or academic contexts, (3) help highly verbal teachers learn how to better connect with more visual students in their classes without having to become a computer expert, (4) show where many of these helpful resources can be found, and (5) find others who are willing and able to contribute in efforts to develop and effectively use such teaching tools to increase our effectiveness in bridging the many gaps that exist between our students and the ancient world they read about in the pages of the Bible.

Intertextuality as a theoretical framework for describing the relationship between texts in the Hebrew Bible and their ongoing interpretation has both common and different interests with canonical criticism. On the one hand, the concept of intertextuality enables the inclusion of the different Jewish and Christian contexts of reading and the perspectives of different canons. In addition to the historic analysis of echoes, allusions and citations, it adds the mutuality of the reading process. Different canons make different intertextual links possible. On the other hand, the concept of intertextuality, especially in its wide sense, stands in tension with the notion of a canon. By calling into question the borders between canonical texts and their interpretations, it undermines the concept of canonical boundaries and challenges the distinction between text and commentary. This paper addresses basic theoretical questions in the intersection between intertextuality and canonical criticism. It reads texts from the book of lamentations in intertextual relationship to other parts of the Hebrew Bible canon and post-biblical interpretation. It focuses on examples of rabbinic intertextuality which finds a balance in this tension between canonical criticism and intertextuality: Having a special interest in and sensitivity for the interconnectedness of texts, the rabbies use texts from different parts of the Hebrew canon and bring them together in a new text.

Was James truly a work of anti-Pauline polemic? Scholarly assessments diverge widely. Those who uphold the claim that James is a work of anti-Pauline polemic cite especially James 2:14-26 as a clear example of the letter’s refutation of Pauline teachings. Those who deny that James is (directly, at least) an example of anti-Pauline polemic highlight the apparent difference in meaning the key terms “faith” and “works” convey in Paul and in James. The difference some interpreters highlight between Paul’s construal of faith and works and that of James can been attributed to reconstructions of an apocalyptic Paul and a sapiential James. This paper seeks to problematize that schema, arguing that the neat division between the soteriologies of Paul and James collapses under the recognition that the neat division between apocalypticism and wisdom does not hold. The apocalyptic soteriology of Paul (esp. in the letters to the Galatians and Romans) is not without sapiential elements, and the wisdom influence in the letter of James (including its discussion of faith and works) is not without apocalyptic coloring. Thus the tension between the letters of Paul and the letter of James should not be conceived as a fault line between soteriologies funded by, respectively, apocalyptic and wisdom traditions. The paper further suggests, with special reference to Adamic and Enochic models of theodicy, that the tension between Paul and James in fact reflects a tension within apocalyptic-wisdom traditions themselves.

It is well known that the majority in the Corinthian ekklesia belonged to the poorer echelon of Hellenistic society (cf. 1 Cor. 1:26). Further, it is well-known that expensive meat was consumed only on special occasions (weddings, birthdays, funerals, and celebrations in honor of a god) by most inhabitants of the Roman Empire. We can thus infer that the majority in the Corinthian church consumed meat only on special occasions, and that at least in some of these cases, participation in pagan sacrificial meals in an idol’s temple would have been implied. Paul’s discussion in 1 Corinthians 8 of participation in such meals – which he prohibits on the ground that it demonstrates lack of love for the “brother” with a “weak” conscience – can thus be interrogated for its implications about the life of poor in the Pauline communities. Scholarship has neglected this economic dimension of Paul’s discussion in 1 Corinthians 8, however. In this paper, I will explore how poor, former polytheists may have been dependent on participation in pagan sacrificial meals to have meat in their diet, and seen such participation to be innocuous in the light of their monotheistic belief that “there is no idol in the world” and “there is but one God” and “there is but one Lord” (1 Cor. 8:4, 6). I will also explore the economic implications of Paul’s objection that this “knowledge” – leading to the consumption of meat in pagan sacrificial meals – causes the “brother” to “stumble” and “be ruined” (1 Cor. 8:9-11). Does Paul suggest that the poor Corinthian Christ-followers put the avoiding the “ruin” of the one without knowledge above their own carnivorous desires? And if so, is the body of Christ to provide an alternative communal meal for these poor with food and drink to overcome the shame of poverty (cf. 1 Cor. 11:17-34)?

In this paper, I will explore a subversive view of disability and illness in sacred texts from two different religious and cultural traditions, namely, the Judeo-Christian tradition and the East Asian Daoist tradition. For this cross-cultural study, I have selected some texts from the book of Job and from the Zhuangzi because both sacred texts address not only socioeconomic and political contexts of disability and illness but also ideological conflicts surrounding these issues. Like other minority issues, such as gender, class, and race, the issues of disability and illness are a point of conflict, in which other minority issues intersect. Like other minority issues, these have a long history of religious, cultural, and social prejudices and discriminations. One of the most common myths about disability and illness is that they are the result and the mark of God’s/Heaven’s punishment or curse. Thus, how major religions and sacred texts read disability and illness and how we reread religious traditions and sacred texts in this regard have a tremendous significance in destroying the oppressive myth that undergirds discriminations. In the Bible, Job is the figure who struggled and protested most thoroughly against the myth that his illness and disabled body were the result and the mark of God’s punishment. Hence, I will explore how the issues of disability and illness are closely connected to socioeconomic and political structures of poverty and social injustice, undergirded by religious and cultural ideologies and traditions, in the book of Job. While Job’s physical illness has explicit textual references, the symptoms of his mental illness caused by the shock of the horrible disaster are implied by his own confessions of his mental status as being fraught with stress, fear, hallucinations and nightmares. It is commonly witnessed that extreme poverty can cause one’s physical or mental crisis and illness/disability, and vice versa. Poverty and disability/illness intersect and reinforce each other, forming a vicious circle. Zhuangzi portrays a diversity of mutilated or deformed characters as having high virtue in chapter five, The Sign of Virtue Complete (???). Zhuangzi’s view of disability has a sociopolitical implication as he finds true humanity in a number of mutilated criminals punished by the state. According to Zhuangzi, the very mutilation of the outer form is a sign that there is something unique about that person, namely the uniqueness engendered by the life of Heaven (Zhuangzi, ch. 3). Therefore, disability in Zhuangzi, far from being defective, opens a crack in the sociopolitical and ethical order through which we can see the real. The mutilated or deformed characters in Zhuangzi share some commonality with Job in that they are rejected by the realm of humans but are affirmed by Heaven/God. Hence, I will explore how the ideology of “difference” that undergirds religious, cultural, and social prejudices and discriminations against disability and illness as well as other minorities is subverted by the concept of “uniqueness” in both Zhuangzi and the divine speech in the book of Job.

C.S. Lewis’s articulation of a doctrine of theosis is often asserted but has rarely been examined for its biblical and theological sources, coherence, and promise. This paper offers a survey of the way Lewis constructs and articulates theosis within his works of theology and fiction, highlighting how he articulates this doctrine using the theme of Transposition. This discussion follows Lewis’s articulation of the art of Transposition, through the concept of the ‘grand miracle’, to finally wrestle with the ‘weight of glory’ we currently experience. Applying the concept of ‘Transposition’ to Lewis’s doctrine of theosis allows an investigation into possible ways in which a discussion of theosis may be extended. Lewis’s use of Scripture will be a key focus of the discussion.

While the bulk of scholarly attention to Hosea has focused on female embodiment in the form of the wife in the marriage metaphor, references to masculinity and male embodiment take up much more space and attention in the text as a whole. Within the marriage metaphor of the first three chapters, the prophet’s body figures strongly, representing not only himself, but also standing in for that of YHWH. The prophet performs a range of masculinities. At times, he is potent, fathering children, detaining and stripping the wife, providing grain and wine, pursuing legal action. At other times the prophet is impotent and cuckolded in the face of the wife’s straying, refraining from sexual intercourse. In the remainder of the text, the prophet himself remains behind the words, though hints about prophetic sentinels who hew with words peek through. In contrast the male audience is imagined and embodied in a variety of ways. The male bodies in Hosea lust, fornicate, drink to excess, eat, and sacrifice. They move landmarks, commit adultery, and assassinate kings. They also stumble around in sickness and impotence, and waver between helpless infancy and old age. There is tension in the text between the masculinities that the men in the implied audience want and attempt to perform and those that the prophet imposes upon them. This paper will apply concepts from cognitive anthropology, specifically the work of James Fernandez, to explore how the prophet uses metaphors to reconfigure the implied audience’s masculinity and thus to move them in social space. Cognitive rhetorical analysis shows that metaphors drawn from many different image fields serve to flesh out the potential masculinities within Hosea. The masculinities of the implied audience are contrasted with that of YHWH, who is placed in the most favorable sector of social space, and consistently, but not exclusively, portrayed as supremely masculine. I argue that the rhetoric of the text intentionally challenges the masculinity of the elite rulers as part of its critique of Israel’s domestic and international political intrigue.

Eve, the primordial woman, is generally perceived as the paradigmatical mother. But what sort of a model does she suggest? The Qur‘an and its commentaries offer more than one answer to that question. Through an examination of Eve‘s parenthood and relationship with five of her sons, this paper will demonstrate the ambivalent construction of Eve‘s motherhood, and hence (due to Eve‘s role as the archetypal woman) of women in general. Although Eve is not mentioned by name in the Qur’an, her presence there has been assessed already by the earliest other Islamic sources available to us, such as Ibn Is?aq (d. 767 CE), who identified Adam‘s spouse with Eve. Whereas the Bible derives Eve’s name from the etymology “mother of all living”, it is notable that a Muslim etymology explains the name in that Eve was created from a living being. This latter etymology reflects on the perception of Eve’s role as a mother and a giver of life. The current paper will aim at demonstrating how Eve’s image as a mother has been constructed within the context of the Qur’an and extra-Qura’nic literature. Tafsir and Muslim traditon tells us of Eve’s numerous children. The discussion will focus on five of Eve’s (biological and adopted) sons, who have their own narratives: Cain, Abel, Seth, ‘Abd al-?arith and Khannas. These narratives are detailed either in the Qur’an itself, or in the tafsir and additional extra-Qur’anic literature. Each son will be presented within their Qur’anic (and/ or Qur’anic exegetical) context (e.g., Q 5:27, 7:189–190, Q 114); and the implicatin of each such case on the construction of Eve‘s motherhood will be analysed. The paper will conclude by a summary of how the image of Eve’s motherhood (and hence, motherhood in general) is portrayed through these narratives.

The paper will take another look at the (possible) cultural background of the Song of Songs. Taking M.V. Fox’s observation that “[t]his Song is … post-exilic and probably Hellenistic, and we have no way of even speculating reasonably about the earlier forms from which it supposedly evolved” (Song of Songs and the Ancient Egyptian Love Songs [1985], 190) as a starting point we will consider the interpretative value as well as the possible modes of literary transmission of the comparative material. It will be argued that the growing internationalism of the late Persian and Early Hellenistic period provides the best background for the origin of such a collage like the Song of Songs. Like Qoheleth, then, the Song of Songs represents a distinctly Jewish attempt to participate in the international intellectual life of the time.

Within the arenas of ancient oratory, praise and mockery often surfaced as soon as a performer opened his or her mouth to speak. This is because the topic of pronunciation, specifically regard to orthoepy (i.e. proper pronunciation—or a lack thereof—was an important component of delivery. Yet, even beyond the formal realms of rhetorical practice and into the venues of everyday speech, pronunciation was still judged to be significant. While this paper will touch briefly on the latter, its focal point is on the former and, as such, seeks to offer insights on the role and function of pronunciation in ancient performances.

“What do you teach?” is a common question in the halls of Higher Education. Typical responses run the breadth of topics in human learning. However, a better response is “I teach students” or even better yet, “I help students to learn.” This presentation will explain and demonstrate core principles of co-agentive design. Co-agentive design is a process of teaching and learning design whereby the teacher and learner constructively create the learning experience. Participants will then actively explore how these principles can be meaningfully applied to Bible Survey courses where neither content coverage or student-focused learning are sacrificed.

Rents, debt payments, and taxes played a crucial role in the re-allocation of the product of land-based labor in ancient agrarian societies. This paper looks at three aspects of this allocation in the Hellenistic and Roman period. First, it examines land tenure as an organized system of household-based labor done by seasonal workers, some slaves, sharecroppers, fixed-rent tenants, and petty landowners. Second, it revisits the question of the evolution of tenancy versus small and large landownership on the basis of selected textual and archaeological evidence. In this regard, particular attention is given to the function of debt and reciprocity ethos. Finally, consideration is given briefly to three ideological aspects: the role of temple and torah in enforcing contracts, the vocabulary of faith and fidelity, and the theme of the son and absent father.

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For many attempts to read the book of Qohelet as a whole, Qoh 4:17-5:6 (Eng. 5:1-7) is a central passage. It tends to frustrate readings that emphasize the irreligious character of the book, as it mentions sacrifice, vows, and speech to God; for those that describe Qohelet’s God as transcendent and, especially, as transcending any moral principle, this text says both that God is in heaven and that God can respond to an offense with punitive action. According to most readings, this text responds primarily to a sense of the fundamental incommensurability between human and divine zones. Verse 1c seems to state plainly that this is the issue: “God is in the heavens and you are on the earth.” Beyond this, the general portrayal of human ineptitude (unknowing, earth-bound, afflicted, foolish, mistaken, the object of God's anger) serves, so the argument goes, to underline the contrary hugeness of God. Yet our reading reveals a surprising alternative. Qohelet’s response tries to steer a course that neither achieves its orientation through reference to some transcendent God, nor pretends that it has overcome such fantasies by acknowledging the limitations of humans to ever know or approach something like the divine. Vows and sacrifices can efface the distance between word and deed by acknowledging it or, even worse, determining it as a distance separating human beings from some God beyond them. Qohelet counsels instead to fear, to keep one’s eyes looking down and one’s ears to the ground, aware that dangerous fantasies and costly sacrifices often emerge in the gap between words and deeds. Our paper concludes with a brief survey of the reception history of Qoh 4:17-5:6, highlighting various ways in which readers seek to close this very gap that Qohelet insists is always open.

The symbolic violence of what Pierre Bourdieu called masculine domination (cf. Bourdieu 2001 [1998]) is everywhere in evidence in the biblical texts, which bear the scars, unconsciously inflicted, of this violence by virtue of their genesis and transmission in societies in which masculine domination was taken as natural. These scars have been, and continue to be, examined in the works that constitute the Jewish and Christian scriptures, thanks to the important advances made by various forms of feminist exegesis. Important work has also been, and continues to be, done on the way a largely unrecognised and unexamined androcentric epistemology governs much biblical commentary, both ancient and modern. How, though, is the commentator constituted as a subject, and how is this process marked in respect of gender? In this paper, my concern is with one ancient instance of how the scriptural commentator was constituted as a subject, that of Philo of Alexandria. It is not simply a matter of how Philo’s exegetical work reflects the assumptions of a patriarchal society, or of an individual exegete who is the product of that society, still less of the brute fact (as if there could even be such a thing) that Philo happened to be a man: it is a matter, rather, of the relationship between how Philo understood the nature of male and female, and how he understood the nature of scriptural exegesis. In particular, it is a matter of the relationship between, on the one hand, Philo’s symbolic interpretation of “mind” (nous) as corresponding to man and “sense perception” (aisthesis) as corresponding to “woman” (Opif. 165; cf. QG 1.25), and, on the other hand, his understanding of scriptural exegesis as accommodating literal and allegorical senses. Philo’s predominant preference for the allegorical over the literal sense, especially in QG, reflects a concomitant preference for soul and mind over body and the senses, and, by extension, entails a tacit assumption about the commentator: he must be constructed as male.

This paper examines the role of drawing on others’ bodies as an expression of violence and domination in the ancient Roman context. Tattooing was used as a way to mark runaway slaves and was a violent display of ownership in Greece and Rome. This contrasts with the use of tattoos as self-identifying cultural marks in other ancient cultures (ancient Britons, Thracians, and Scythians were known by their tattoos). In the paper, I survey examples of the tattoo as a label of ownership on the bodies of slaves in Greece and Rome (e.g., Diogenes Laertius, Xenophon, etc.) and theorize the inscription of owned bodies as an enactment of permanent violence against the personhood of the Other. I also examine instances where tattooing expressed the dominance of a ruler over free people, as in Suetonius and 3 Maccabees, to discuss the ancient Hellenistic and Roman tattoo as creating alterity and subordination in the act itself. In these situations, the tattoo functioned as a symbol of the ruler’s absolute power. Both of these typical aspects of ancient tattoos tie into how tattoos expressed ownership in cultic settings, as seen in examples from Egypt, in Revelation, and in Paul’s writing.

In Roman art, a strong tradition of the public depiction of battle had existed from the third century BCE, wherein symbolic and allegorical compositions were used to depict and proclaim Roman victory. As this practice evolved, the vanquished were the recipients of increasing attention: represented as captives, bound, humiliated, and brought to servitude at the feet of Roman trophies they became ‘abstract symbols’ of Roman power. Within the frame of imperial art, prominent representations of the beheadings of captives (or the decollated heads themselves) functioned to glorify the peace-making efforts of the Roman army; they asserted the glory not only of the Emperor, but of the army itself, and of the Empire. This paper will argue that while early Christian art made use of the idioms developed in Roman imperial depictions, there had to be a fundamental shift in the viewer’s perception of the vanquished for Christians to be able to visualize situations where suffering was integral to a story. The body of the enemy-captive (de-humanized, defeated, and held in contempt), had to be transformed into the body of the sacred-hero (humanized, victorious and celebrated) for the iconography of the victim to have a new purpose. Through examination of the iconography of beheading, the paper will propose that in effecting a reversal of the iconography’s meaning, image-makers in the fourth century realized the creation not only of a new image for Christian patrons, but an entirely new genre of imagery: Christian suffering. This genre would come to dominate Western visual culture, and at its centre would be nailed the dead Christ, as the central and defining image of the Christian faith.

Cyprian gave his name to the pandemic disease that sporadically ravaged the Roman Empire from at least 249-270. Yet, until recently, this disease event has received relatively little attention from historians of the third century. The author has recently published a study (forthcoming, Journal of Roman Archaeology) for the first time bringing together the testimony for the Plague of Cyprian. Despite the famously poor evidentiary base for the mid-third century, there is an astonishingly thick and detailed record of an empire-wide pandemic, possibly of hemorrhagic fever, sweeping across the empire, with major demographic effects. Comparative evidence suggests that severe demographic shocks can have major spiritual and cultural effects. This paper will look more closely at the leadership of Cyprian and ask what a hypothetically significant empire-wide disease event would mean for his leadership and the expansion of Christianity during his tenure as bishop.

Augustine was not opposed to the institution of slavery; he used the language of slavery when engaging scripture and advocated for proper relations between masters and slaves. When confronted with the reality of rampant human trafficking in North Africa, he turned to Roman law to defend personal freedom against trafficking that he believed exceeded the limits of acceptability. In Letter 10* to his friend Alypius (428 CE), Augustine did not abide situations that would reduce or erase one's free status and bodily integrity (Glancy 2006). Yet his argument for limits hinged on the fact that there must be those who do not qualify, for example, the so-called “true slaves” or those whose services are sold by their parents for up to twenty-five years (2,7). This paper examines Augustine's confrontation with the “disease” of trafficking in Letter 10* as a legal issue in order to explore who benefits or loses within his logic of acceptable trafficking. I focus upon two categories of people: A. the traffickers (mangones) and B. those who remain tolerable figures of trafficking. I argue that Augustine's attentiveness to the humanity and citizenship of the traffickers (5) and his desire to shield them from the full extent of the law (4) means that the mangones ultimately benefit as figures within the law even as they break it in pursuit of immoderate gain. However, the traces of those who are not within the law and therefore cannot be illegally trafficked—“true slaves,” legal child labor, even barbarians—populate the text in resistance to Augustine's emphasis on the rights of free people. This focus calls us to consider the ways in which contemporary narratives about human trafficking exclude people from being considered within the law and how we hold perpetrators of violence accountable within and beyond national borders.

A prominent trend in recent scholarship on rabbinic biblical interpretation is to trace the development of individual exegetical motifs and traditions. However, when focusing on isolated traditions, scholars rarely place rabbinic midrashim within their broader literary and rhetorical frameworks. Thus, the new meanings created by the redactors of rabbinic compilations through their juxtaposition of different traditions are often underappreciated. My paper examines the midrashim on Genesis 22, commonly referred to as the Aqedah, which are found in Bavli Sanhedrin 89b. I show how the editors of the Talmudic sugya presented a unique picture of the Aqedah by juxtaposing specific midrashim within a particular halakhic context. Through strategic changes to received Palestinian traditions, the Bavli’s redactors direct the reader’s attention to the heavenly struggle between God and Satan, and to Abraham’s role as God’s soldier in this battle. Satan is about to emerge victorious, when Abraham remembers the rabbinic halakhah that is under discussion: One may only accept the prophecy of someone who is an established prophet. Since Satan does not fall into this category, his arguments, while convincing, must be disregarded. In this way, Abraham is presented as the model rabbinic Jew, who follows the dictates of the rabbis even in the most trying of circumstances. Additionally, the foundational status of the Aqedah now supports the legitimacy, and indeed indispensability, of the rabbinic project. The midrashim, while originally devoid of legal content, thus become an essential component of the sugya’s halakhic discourse.

no abstract

Evangelical exegesis has been broadly configured by the grammatical-historical method, which locates the meaning of a passage in the author’s intention and seeks to discern the intended meaning through a close reading of the text within its historical context. Postcolonial reading strategies expose the method’s instantiation of the Western intellectual tradition (e.g. objective analysis, a single meaning, principle and application, exegesis as exploration and discovery) but also open new trajectories for re/forming evangelical exegetical practices toward a diverse, global discourse. The potential of this enterprise can be illustrated via an interrogation of evangelical commentaries on the book of Ruth.

Commentators have puzzled over Job 30:1-8 on account of the apparent discontinuity between the disparaging tone of 30:1-8 and Job’s sympathetic attitude toward the poor in other Joban texts (Job 24:1-12; 29:12-17; 30:24-25; 31:16-22). With seeming unanimity, commentators interpret Job 30:1-8 as a portrayal of Job’s enemies, those who mock his suffering, as extremely impoverished people who live in the desert. The corresponding claim is then, as Newsom says, “What makes these people so contemptible is their abject poverty” (“The Book of Job,” in The New Interpreter’s Bible, 544). However, if the text is understood as an extended animal metaphor, human poverty is not the issue at all. My argument is that Job evokes the conceptual metaphor JOB’S MOCKERS ARE DESERT ANIMALS, projecting features of the source domain DESERT ANIMALS onto the target JOB’S MOCKERS in order to portray these cruel people as desperate scavengers who are despised by civilization. It is not that Job’s mockers actually live in holes the desert, survive off of roots of broom root, or make braying sounds among the desert weeds, but that the author excessively makes a simple point that these low-life mockers are completely uncivilized. The text makes best sense as a collage of desert animal conceptual domains including WILD DONKEY and, perhaps, WILD DOG or JACKAL. Besides providing a new interpretation of Job 30:1-8 on the basis of Conceptual Metaphor Theory and observational studies of animal behavior and plant life, this paper comments on the issue of “mixed metaphor.” Combining features of various animals may strike one as imprecise, but metaphor binding and mixing within metaphor clusters is typical. Extended metaphor is often expressed without complete intentionality, inner-consistency, or exactitude, especially with regard to the source domain. Mixed metaphor “works” when the binding is external to the single clause. In other words, conceptual metaphors may shift as arguments progress and meaning planes switch from one clause to the next. Moreover, while the multiple expressions in Job 30:1-8 may vary with respect to the specific signified animal, they share a “cognitive root” in DESERT ANIMALS, providing perceptible coherence to the metaphor cluster. The crucial point is not the identification of specific animals or even their particular behaviors, but the more general character of desert animals as wild, uncivilized, and bothersome. The particular animals that I suggest serve for source imagery in Job 30:1-8, the wild donkey and wild dog, are prototypical desert animals that epitomize destitution, wildness, and marginalization. In the book of Job, DESERT ANIMALS serves as a source for portraying MARGINALIZATION, whether the intended evocation is sympathy, as in Job 24:4-8, or scorn, as in Job 30:1-8.

Although the designation of Isaiah 24-27 as a “Little Apocalypse” has largely been abandoned, it has long and widely been accepted that the chapters display ‘proto-apocalyptic’ features, notably eschatological and universal perspectives. This has been one of the pillars supporting the dating of some or all the section as late as the Hellenistic period. However, recent studies of apocalyptic(ism) suggest that there is, increasingly, uncertainty about Isa 24-27’s place in that conversation. Since other pillars of the chapters’ dating have been shown to be quite unstable, this paper now explicitly re-opens the question of the section’s relationship to apocalyptic and eschatology. Surveying the history of the conversation, especially from Plöger to Hanson to Cook, it also assesses the viability and future of the category of “proto-apocalyptic” itself.

Despite a growing scholarly consensus that Lady Zion in Isa 54 literarily contrasts with Lady Babylon in Isa 47 (Spykerboer, Steck, Biddle), scholars have not noticed the role that Yahweh’s teaching of Zion’s children plays in this rhetoric of antithesis throughout Isa 47–54. Isaiah 54:13 contrasts Zion’s children instructed by Yahweh with the educated elite of Babylon from Isa 47. Yahweh’s instruction ensures that Zion’s children will never again go astray and thereby guarantees the permanency of Zion’s restoration. By contrast, Lady Babylon places her confidence in the instruction of Mesopotamia’s educated cadre of enchanters and diviners, but their instruction proves ineffectual and even contributes to Babylon’s inevitable fall (47:9–15). Lady Babylon’s reliance upon her educated elite is thus misplaced, but Isa 54:13 encourages Lady Zion to understand that the education of her inhabitants will bolster Zion’s stability. In this way, Isa 54:13 contributes to the motif of the permanency of Zion’s restoration that pervades and unifies Isa 54 and highlights the central place of Yahwistic education in the polemic against the Neo-Babylonian Empire throughout Deutero-Isaiah.

This paper proposes to examine the relationship between the corpus of Syriac narrative poems on Joseph and the text of the Syriac Bible. It will do so by tackling three questions: What is the function of particles and phrases suggesting quotation in these poems? Are these poems textually significant for scholars primarily concerned with establishing a critical text of the Peshitta of Genesis? What do these poems tell us about attitudes to the text of Syriac Bible?

Robert M. Royalty’s recent book The Origin of Heresy examined Jewish and early Christian materials in attempt to account for precursors to the later patristic discourse known as heresiology, a worldview of religious truth and falsehood that disallowed others from claiming a particular identity and separated “orthodoxy” from “heresies.” Though Royalty observed that Christian heresiology might have also imitated Roman ideology (156), his study did not endeavor to explore Roman political writings—even those that prominent Christian heresiographers, such as Tertullian, can be shown to have known—for further clues that could elucidate the genre. From a survey of the use of the Latin terms religio and superstitio in Cicero, Tacitus, Pliny, and several others, this research indicates that elite Roman discourse increasingly began to use superstitio, a term well-established to indicate religious oddities circulating in Roman society, against foreigners, and particularly against those foreigners perceived to pose a threat to its sociopolitical life. This Roman rhetoric of difference bears an important telic similarity to Christian heresiology: both demarcated the boundary between an in-group and various out-groups, marking the latter as insufficient in thought or deed while bolstering a dominant identity rooted in righteousness, virtue, and absolute truth. By examining Roman writings diachronically from the 1st century BCE to the early 2nd century CE, this research identifies an emerging discursive trend among philosophers and historians of the Roman imperium while simultaneously proposing a wider cultural basis for the origin of Christian heresiology than is normally permitted. It also explores whether we can posit a definitive “genealogy” for heresiology, given the manifold influences upon the numerous early Christian theologians setting out to define orthodoxy.

This presentation is a demonstration of the new Dotan/Reich Thesaurus of the Masorah of the Leningrad Codex.

In contrast to the New Testament (e.g., J. Frey et al. [eds.], Pseudepigraphie und Verfasserfiktion in frühchristlichen Briefen, Tübingen 2009; S. E. Porter/G. P. Fewster [eds.], Paul and Pseudepigraphy, Leiden 2013), research on pseudepigraphy among the writings of the “Church Fathers” is not very intensive. Although many non-authentic ancient Christian writings are known, these texts are more or less ignored in most cases. In general only rediscovered “lost writings” of “heretics” (e.g., the writings of Marcellus of Ancyra and Apollinaris of Laodicaea handed down under the name of Athanasius of Alexandria) have been taken into consideration, but more with the aim to get an authentic voice of those persons and not with an interest in the problem of pseudepigraphy itself. The history of research by Martina Janßen (Unter falschem Namen, Frankfurt am Main 2003) also concludes that the main questions are still unanswered. The overview of Wolfgang Speyer (Handbuch der Altertumswissenschaft I/2, 1971) is only a first step as well as the miscellany edited by Javier Martínez García (Mundus vult decipi, 2012). This paper tries to widen the horizon regarding ancient Christian pseudepigrapha. A starting-point is the book by Bart D. Ehrman (Forgery and Counterforgery, Oxford 2013) who insists on describing pseudepigraphy as forgery and deceit. However, he also mentions some other categories: plagiarism, falsifications, fabriciations, false attributions, problems of anonymity and of homonymity, and fiction. Are those categories adequate and sufficient for describing the emergence of pseudepigraphic writings attributed to “Church Fathers”? Is it convincing that pseudepigraphic writings are in most cases polemical and apologetic forgeries? To put Ehrman’s categories to a test, a special look will be taken at the pseudepigraphic writings attributed to Athanasius of Alexandria. In addition, the interdependence between author and authority will be taken into consideration for a better understanding of these pseudepigraphic writings.

The meaning of transitive thriambeuein has puzzled interpreters of the New Testament for a long time. Although, surprisingly, there has not been any detailed work on the lexical semantics of this verb, there are many suggestions in the literature including some that do not see any connection to the rite of the Roman triumphus. These proposals include the neutral meaning ‘to make sb./sth. known’ (Field/Egan), the broad ‘to lead sb. in a religious procession’ (Findley/Duff), and the more negative ‘to expose sb. to shame’ (Marshall/Gruber). However, these proposals cannot offer the necessary lexical support. A clear connection to the Roman triumph is maintained by Hafemann, who thinks the meaning is ‘to lead sb. to death’, namely captives to their execution. However, Hafemann does not offer an analysis of the usage of the verb either but only analyses the concept of the triumphus. Breytenbach was the first to take into account the actual usage of transitive thriambeuein to a significant extent. He concludes that the meaning is: ‘to celebrate a triumph over sb.’ - without including the actual presentation of that person in the procession. However, there are occurrences of the word documented in the TLG that Breytenbach has not taken into account. More importantly, Breytenbach did not pay any attention to paradigmatic relations of transitive thriambeuein. Hence, his analysis of the components of the semantic range of this verb remains deficient. This strange situation of a multitude of suggested “meanings” and the clear lack of detailed lexical analyses is reflected in all the dictionaries of Ancient Greek. In this paper, I will present the results of an in-depth analysis of a) the usage of thriambeuein up until the 3rd century CE as well as b) an analysis of its semantic components in light of semantically related paradigmatic options in the same corpus. As a result, for the first time a definition of transitive thriambeuein can be offered that is actually rooted in an appropriate lexical analysis. I will close with an outlook on its discourse meaning in 2 Cor 2:14 and Col 2:15.

Libations can be seen as forgotten rituals in the texts of the New Testament. In the last decades, New Testament scholarship has drawn only little attention to this topic. It is significant for instance that there is no entry “libation” in the relevant encyclopedias such as the Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum and the Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart, 4th edition. References to libation rituals in the Greek text of the New Testament are often concealed by the translations – not only in German and English translations but also in the Latin Vulgata. Moreover, depending on the completeness of my overview survey of the literature in Classics there are currently no comprehensive studies analyz-ing the complex and diverse practice of pouring out libations on the one hand and describing the ex-act relation to the ancient concept of “sacrifice” on the other hand. From this perspective, it seems to be appropriate to give an overview of the relevant passages in the NT that refer to a libation ritual. A short draft for systematizing libation rituals in the Greco-Roman world obtained on the basis of an-cient sources should serve as heuristic tool for the analysis of the New Testament data. The paper includes some methodological reflections on the relation of texts and the specific ritual of pouring out libations during meals as well as considerations on theological implications of libations in New Tes-tament texts. In this regard, the question has to be asked if the particular liquid (e. g. wine or water) is given a specific significance. In sum, the paper has three main goals: 1) to explain why references to libations in the New Testament texts were often ignored by scholarship as well as in the history of reception; 2) to outline perspectives for the interpretation of the references to libations in the New Testament and to determine the relation to early Christian meal practice; 3) to name questions for further research.

The Firstborn Among Many Brothers and Sisters: Identity Formation and the uiothesia Metaphors in Romans 8

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There is little reason to doubt that the comedic skewering provided by Lucian of Samosata in his Alexander the False Prophet played a pivotal role in the sharp decline of Alexander of Abonoteichus’s nascent religious movement, much in the same way that the gospels contributed to the rise of the early Jesus movement. A modern comparison between Jesus and Alexander would likely draw little attention. Yet few (if any) modern scholars have bothered to examine the influence ancient author/narrators wielded in the success or failure of the movements surrounding ancient miracle workers. Authors of mundane non-fiction, such as Lucian, are faced with the hurdle of convincing their readers (ancient or modern) that the events contained within their narratives occurred exactly as described. This hurdle increases exponentially for authors attempting to recount events considered by both reader and author as miraculous or supernatural, as is the case with the gospels. If the narrative is too realistic, miraculous events become implausible, and vice versa. Resolution of this paradox is achieved through a set of narrative techniques referred to in this paper as the “dialectic of the miraculous.” The purpose of this paper, then, is to illustrate how the author of a gospel, namely Luke, employs this dialectic. This goal is accomplished by contrasting Luke’s gospel with the work of another author who is skeptical of his purportedly miraculous subject matter, in this case Lucian. The Gospel of Luke, with its prologue addressed to a named reader, as well as its reputation as the most culturally and stylistically Greek of the gospels, is a perfect gospel representative against Lucian’s Alexander. This paper examines the ways each author, serving double-duty as narrator, interacts with both his audience and his subject to affect the reader’s opinion of his subject. Among other literary methods, special attention is paid to the way each author employs narrative voice to build trust with his audience and further convince them that his interpretation of the miraculous deeds performed by his subject is the only interpretation (whether it be debunking or confirming). This comparison reveals that it is indeed an uphill battle for authors of miraculous non-fiction such as Luke. These authors skirt a fine line between the impossible and the possible. If they are to foster and maintain in their readers a sense of belief regarding their subjects, they must accordingly utilize a set of literary tools quite different than, and with far more precision, the tools employed by authors of non-miraculous non-fiction.

Recent publications about the writings of Šubhalmaran of Kirkuk have begun to illuminate the theology, exegesis, and ideals of this obscure 7th century metropolitan bishop. At a time and place in which Jewish, Byzantine, and other unique apocalyptic texts and traditions circulated, Šubhalmaran’s extant sermons yield a number of rich insights into the preservation and use of traditions such as these. In particular, the current paper queries Šubhalmaran’s characterization of the Man of Sin and his virgin mother in a homily that employs an intriguing array of sources. I seek to show that Šubhalmaran does not rely upon Revelation, but rather upon pseudo-Daniel and pseudo-apostolic traditions, many now missing, but some preserved for us both in Greek and Syriac texts. In showing the relationship between Šu??almaran and these other texts, I will note a number of intriguing trends that parallel ideas found in Sefer Zerubbabel and Sefer Eliyyahu, both Jewish apocalyptic works from a similar time and place. All of this gives us additional understanding about the library and eschatological concepts of a regionally-influential bishop just before the rise of Islam, after which the apocalyptic landscape would largely change.

One of the challenges of any course that covers the Christian gospels is getting students to read them as individual narratives. Only by doing so can the students start to think about compositional, redaction, and narrative criticism in meaningful ways. For example, if the gospels all tell exactly the same story, then there is no reason to study how they were created or how their authors shaped source material. Professors can just repeat that each gospel needs to be read on its own terms, but this presentation will demonstrate that a more potent method is to use the computer game The Stanley Parable to show the power an author has in shaping a narrative, making students more aware of how authorial choices have shaped each gospel. The Stanley Parable was created to be a commentary on the tropes and assumptions of video games, but it can easily be adapted to teach narrative theory more generally. During the game, the player is presented with a series of choices, for example, walking through the door on the right or the left. An ever-present narrator guides the player to the “correct” choices. Immediately it is clear, however, that the player has the agency to ignore the narrator’s instructions, upsetting the fixed narrative and forcing the narrator to adjust the story on the fly to incorporate new sets of circumstances. Although the surface commentary is about blindly following instructions and living within the rules of video games, it parallels similar characteristics of narratives. For example, the individual gospel accounts can be thought of as individual narrators guiding the reader through the “correct” story that they desire to tell about the life of Jesus. They force the reader’s attention to certain times and locations in the life of Jesus, ignoring other times and places that could have been included, and sometimes are, in other gospels. Some readers will not realize that the story is being guided and shaped by authorial choice. The Stanley Parable, however, highlights the hand of the narrator/author by making clear that other choices could have been made; another story could have been told by weaving together different events into a different whole. The Stanley Parable makes this shaping apparent, and does so with humor and in an engaging modality, leading students to see the power authors have in shaping stories. As they appreciate how stories are shaped by authors, they are more interested in learning what is unique about each gospel story so they can better see where it has been shaped by the author. Students are no longer walking through the narrative unaware, but search for the places where choices have been made, where the author has taken them through the left door rather than the right, and wonder why that choice was made.

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This paper will explore the Othering of the Jewish community in three narratives from medieval England that deal in the supposed crime of Blood Libel: Thomas of Monmouth’s The Life of William of Norwich, Matthew Paris’ The Life of Little St. Hugh of Lincoln, and Geoffrey Chaucer’s “The Prioress’ Tale.” In particular, I am interested in the way that the Jews and their motives are depicted in each of the narratives: in William’s Life, as perpetrators of a depraved Passover ritual to reclaim their “fatherland;” in The Life of Little St. Hugh of Lincoln, as ritual reenactors of Christ’s death for the purposes of insulting Jesus and performing magical operations; and in Chaucer, as the murderers of the infant Christ who are driven by demonic lusts. These depictions will be placed against the backdrop of historical events to further inform the development of anti-Semitic sentiment in pre- and post-expulsion England.

This paper offers a fresh analysis of the literary function of Jesus’ signs in the gospel of John by reading them in conversation with the anagnorisis microgenre found frequently in ancient narratives and in light of the gospel’s rhetorical goal of cultivating belief through signs (20:30-31). Arguing against the common notion in Johannine scholarship that the gospel disparages belief based on signs, I show that scholarly paradigms that devise hierarchies of belief-types inaccurately impose a classificatory system that is foreign to the genre of anagnorisis and its grammar in antiquity. In the gospel of John, I argue, signs receive affirmation, and seeing signs is a legitimate and welcome means of recognizing Jesus and of believing. Taking seriously the Johannine connection between anagnorisis and belief thus offers a more accurate paradigm for understanding the function of the signs in the gospel’s final form.

The Society of Biblical Literature Commentary on the Septuagint series (SBLCS) seeks to elucidate the meaning of Old Greek texts as they would have been understood by the original translators (and presumably their first readers/hearers) at their point of production, as distinct from how they may have come to be construed throughout the course of their reception history. Septuagint Genesis evinces a diverse range of interesting decisions by its translator in the representation of the meaning of its underlying Semitic source text. Sometimes those meanings overlap, sometimes there are divergences. This paper will explore a number of representative examples.

Wisdom and the Building of the Tabernacle: Hokmah and Hakam in Exodus 25–40

Revelatory settings described in diverse Egyptian texts, including binary oracles, dream reports, communication with the dead, narratives, seer consultation, wisdom contests, and funerary rituals, offer evidence of the socio-religious prerequisite for prophecy; however they do not qualify as messenger speech. On the other hand, first-person, divine speech delivered by human agents in rituals of the Egyptian royal cult (coronations, building inscriptions, and victory celebrations) qualify as prophecy. Drawing on ritual theory, this paper explores the relationship between these rituals and prophetic speech performance.

Solomon's Temple Prayer (1 Kgs 8)

Recent discussion of Pauline God-talk (e.g., F. Watson; D. Campbell; R. Bauckham) has focused on the inability of traditional theological categories of "substance" and "nature" to do justice to the dynamics of Paul's discourse, in which divine action and agency, particularly as displayed in the Christ event, are more determinative for Paul's portrait of God. Focusing on Paul's use of *kyrios* with reference to God the Father and not only Jesus Christ, against the backdrop of the Septuagint, this paper will suggest that Paul's narration of God's agency prepared the way for subsequent theological treatments of "substance" and "nature," while also requiring those categories to be understood in light of the story of Jesus' death and resurrection. This paper will seek to demonstrate that Paul's understanding of God is both "narratable" and "metaphysical," insofar as the so-called immanent Trinity and the economic Trinity are held fruitfully together in Paul's language about God.

Book review of Mira Balberg's Purity, Body, and Self in Early Rabbinic Literature (Berkeley: UC Press, 2014)

By assuming that the singular readings of a New Testament manuscript represent the tendencies of its copyist, a popular method used for determining scribal habits suffers from two flaws: it wrongly includes singular readings copied from the parent text, and it wrongly excludes non-singular readings created by the scribe. Codex Sinopensis (Paris, BNF, supp. gr. 1286; O 023) is one of three sixth-century purple codices copied from a common exemplar; the other two manuscripts are Codex Rossanensis (S 042) and Codex Purpureus Petropolitanus (N 022). These three manuscripts are in a unique position to test the singular readings method of determining scribal habits against a control. Because of this rare relationship, the actual scribal activity in Codex Sinopensis can be determined by observing the total number and type(s) of deviations the scribe made from the parent text, which is ascertained from the readings of all three manuscripts where Sinopensis is extant. The singular readings method itself can be tested by comparing the actual scribal activity to the results of a modified singular readings method, in which both the singular readings of Sinopensis and those sub-singular readings found only in Sinopensis and its two siblings are included in the data pool. This modification enables the method to include rare readings copied from the exemplar that would be normally included as singular readings for manuscripts that, unlike Sinopensis, do not have two extant siblings. Thus, with Sinopensis, one can detect both real scribal habits—all the places where the scribe did not follow his or her exemplar, and perceived scribal habits—those as measured by the singular readings method. When one compares real and perceived scribal habits, it becomes clear that in the case of Codex Sinopensis, the singular readings method fails to provide an accurate picture of scribal activity.

The figure of Mother Zion is developed in the apocryphal book of Baruch (1 Baruch 4:5-5:9) by consolidating scattered references in Isaiah 40-66 to Jerusalem as the mother of the exiled Judeans (esp. Isa 49:18-23, 54:1-3, 60:1-4 and 66:8-12). A significant number of early Jewish and early Christian texts appropriate and use the Mother Zion figure to different ends; examples include Ps Sol 11, 4 Ezra, 2 Baruch, and Gal 4:21-5:1. In the second century, a few early Christian exegetes interpret Isa 54:1 as referring to the Church, and Origen connects Paul’s “Jerusalem that is above” (Gal 4:26) with the preexistent heavenly Church. It is not until the third century, however, that the figure of Mother Church (Mater Ecclesia) becomes commonplace, first in North Africa. This paper argues that 5 Ezra (1 Esdras 1-2), a Jewish-Christian prophetic text, precedes and anticipates the development of the Mater Ecclesia figure, rather than being influenced by it. Despite 5 Ezra’s supersessionist tendency, the “mother” figure remains identified throughout 5 Ezra with the city of Jerusalem and Mt. Zion, as in Baruch. Theodore A. Bergren has recently argued that “5 Ezra seems to have originated as a radically revisionist, Christian supersessionist reading of the apocryphal book of Baruch.” He believes that the structure of 5 Ezra comes from superimposing the dualisms of Paul’s allegory in Gal 4:21-5:1 upon the structure of the entire book of Baruch. I think that 5 Ezra’s dependence on Baruch is limited to the use of the Mother Zion figure from Bar 4:5-5:9 and that the Galatians allegory was a much less significant influence on the author of 5 Ezra than Bergren believes. Instead, the author of 5 Ezra combines allusions to the New Jerusalem of Revelation 21-22 with Baruch’s Mother Zion figure, while claiming that God has taken away the “kingdom of Jerusalem” from Israel and has given it to a new people, presumably the Christians (5 Ezra 2:10-11). Yet 5 Ezra for the most part avoids explicitly Christian vocabulary, cloaking its supersessionism in the language of the Israelite prophetic tradition. I do not think there is enough evidence to place the composition of 5 Ezra in North Africa in the third century, as Bergren tentatively does, based on the presumed influence of the Mater Ecclesia figure in Tertullian and Cyprian. I think it is more likely to have been composed in the second century, although the character of the Latin text is consistent with either composition in Latin or translation from Greek in a North African context. It is possible, therefore, that 5 Ezra’s limited “christianizing” of the Mother Zion figure may have influenced the development of the Mater Ecclesia figure in North Africa in the third century.

This paper explores how the term “Christians” (Acts 11:26) and other nomenclature used in Acts to characterize followers of Jesus fits within Harnack’s famous excursus “Christians as a Third Race” (Mission and Expansion, 266-78). Some questions addressed: To what extent does Acts envision Jesus’s disciples as distinct from Jews and pagans? How does Luke’s language of differentiation, e.g., church and synagogue, function in Acts? Is Acts correctly depicted as standing midway on the arc between early Christian preaching and early Christian apologetic? And how useful is the language of “race,” e.g., genus tertium, in describing Luke’s conception of early Christianity?

At least since the publication of William Wrede’s Das Messiasgeheimnis in den Evangelien in 1901 Markan scholarship has been puzzling over the meaning, boundaries, and significance of the messianic secret. Wrede’s assessment of the theological origins of the messianic secret is at once both too narrow and too broad. The content of the secret is too narrow because it is a messianic secret, only concerned with Jesus’ identity as the Messiah. Wrede’s work is also too broad because he finds many places in the Gospel where secrecy is a theological theme, but the issue is not Jesus’ messiahship (e.g., 10:46-52). Stemming from this thematic legacy (highlighted by Juel and others), this paper argues that hiddenness and secrecy are broad themes in the Gospel of Mark that cannot be separated from their opposites, revelation and proclamation. Considering two episodes where all four of these concepts are present (14:26-52 and 16:1-8), this paper contends that uniting hiddenness and secrecy with revelation and proclamation produces not a Gospel of scattered “secret epiphanies” (Dibelius) but instead a Gospel where both secrecy and proclamation are at the heart of Christology and discipleship. Concealment and revelation in Gethsemane and at the empty tomb occur in three ways: through Jesus’ words, Jesus’ actions, and the actions of other characters. When Jesus proclaims that all will fall away (14:27), it appears that his words are fulfilled when he is arrested (14:50). Yet, Mark’s Gospel hides Jesus’ female followers from his audience, and they do not fall away until 16:8, when they keep the secret they should proclaim. The neaniskos’s proclamation collides with the women’s silence, revealing the fulfillment of Jesus’ words (16:4-8). In both of these episodes, however, Jesus himself withdraws from others (14:35-36) or is absent entirely (16:1-8), emphasizing that hiddenness has as much to do with presence as it does with (messianic) identity. Finally, characters like the two neaniskoi, one shamefully streaking and one angelically proclaiming, indicate the interplay between hiddenness and revelation in these texts. Mark’s Gospel not only surprises its audience in secrecy, but also sparks proclamation.

At the “Inventing Christianity” section meeting in Baltimore (2013), I suggested that Marcion of Smyrna, in the work commonly known as the Martyrdom of Polycarp, sought to inculcate a particular vision of Christian identity as it related to the increasingly contested topic of martyrdom. In arguing that case, it proved necessary to give attention to the hotly-disputed question of the date of the composition of MartPol. In the present paper I propose to revisit that foundational topic in light of subsequent discussion. This is a topic particularly appropriate for consideration in a section whose foci include the analysis “of early Christian texts in dialogue with Hellenistic materials,” inasmuch as one of the central methodological questions re the date of MartPol involves the evidentiary weight to be given to the document’s Hellenistic context vis-a-vis intra-Christian trajectories and developments.

One account of the semantic history of the Hebrew word ???? posits a development from the meaning "plea (before an adjudicator)" to the meaning "prayer." Biblical evidence points in this direction, and Y. Feder has recently confirmed it based on a parallel semantic development in Hittite. The occurrence of the word ???? in Psalm 109:7 figures prominently in the discussion. Here, the word apparently refers to a plea or petition directed towards a human, rather than divine, authority. Studies of biblical prayer, such as those S. Blank and M. Greenberg, have drawn on this usage to advance an essentially legal interpretation of prayer in the Hebrew Bible. For the most part, however, scholarship has focused on the word ???? itself, rather than on wider context, including the remainder of the verse. This presentation adopts the legal meaning of ???? and situates it within the broader context of Psalm 109. It points to contextual factors that support this interpretation of the term. At the same time, it considers the implications of this interpretation for the exegesis of other parts of the verses in which the word occurs (109:4, 7), as well as for the understanding of the entire psalm.

Apocalyptic texts employ visual language. Typically, a celestial character discloses a transcendent reality to a human recipient while subjected to otherworldly journeys. Grasping the nature of the apocalyptic elements while identifying key characters, events, and plot movement proves difficult for students who are generally unfamiliar with the genre. Connecting visual imagery with forms of musical or cinematographic expressions enables students to analyze the text and follow the flow of the narrative. In this presentation, I will give examples from my classroom of students using sequences of music pieces and music videos, and line-ups of movie clips to express responses that apocalyptic scenes evoke. Audience participation in this session will consist of a brief discussion time and an opportunity to use visual and auditory media samples to engage select scenes from the Apocalypse of John.

A striking feature of Frend's work on 'martyrdom and persecution in the early church' (to quote the title of his 1965 book on the subject) was what might be called, from a traditional ecclesiastical standpoint, his view from the margins; he gave what was at the time unaccustomed prominence to 'heretical' as well as 'orthodox' suffering and persecution, and, again in an unusual way, he set all these aspects of early church history within the history of Jewish martyrdom and persecution. This broad scope was highlighted in the last words of his subtitle: 'from the Maccabees to Donatus.' Yet the attempt to sketch Jewish martyrdom and persecution in relation to early Christianity attracted some of the sharpest criticism levelled at his work. In this paper his approach is reconsidered against the background of trends in study when he wrote, and subsequent treatments of early Christianity in the setting of Jewish history.

In their 2014 monograph, Historical Linguistics & Biblical Hebrew: Steps Towards an Integrated Approach, Robert Rezetko and Ian Young articulate a thoroughgoing critique of the accepted historical linguistic approach to ancient Hebrew, criticizing Hebraists for (a) a failure to take seriously the problematic textual nature of the extant sources; (b) routinely privileging the medieval Tiberian Masoretic evidence over other, often earlier sources thereof; and (c) relying on statistics reflecting groups of books rather than individual compositions. Among other things, they propose the use of cross-textual variable analysis, according to which multiple versions of an individual composition are compared linguistically. Based on such an examination of MT Samuel vis-à-vis the relevant DSS manuscripts they conclude that “biblical manuscripts are reliable as evidence for the basic and common linguistic forms of ancient Hebrew, because these are quite stable in the textual witnesses, but do not provide evidence of the distribution of less common linguistic items in the biblical writings, because these were highly fluid during the editing and copying of the writings” (406–7). They then ambitiously declare: “[t]his conclusion undermines much of the work that has been done on the history of ancient Hebrew” (407). Their study of MT and DSS Samuel, with its detailed application of potentially fruitful methodologies to the analysis of ancient Hebrew corpora, constitutes a valuable contribution to the field of Hebrew historical linguistics. It seems premature, however, to construe their results as necessitating the radical shift in our understanding of Hebrew linguistic history that they propose. Critically, it is questionable whether the characterization of the linguistic relationship between MT Samuel and the book’s DSS manuscripts (like the one previously explored by Kutscher between MT Isaiah and 1QIsa a) should be taken as generally representative of the relationships between Masoretic and DSS versions of biblical compositions. On the basis of a comparison of the biblical material found in 4QReworked Pentateuch a–e (4Q158, 364–367) and parallel MT passages (with reference to other pertinent DSS manuscripts and the Samaritan Pentateuch), the current study presents the results of a cross-textual variable analysis of a not insignificant cross-section of the Torah, presenting clear evidence of non-coincidental distributional patterns of diachronically meaningful linguistic features against the background of more general linguistic stability. Crucially, when versions of biblical passages differ with regard to diachronically significant features, it is most frequently the later Masoretic version that preserves the classical features, the DSS versions the characteristically post-exilic alternants. Though these results may or may not typify the relationships between the respective versions of other MT and DSS biblical texts, they call into question the extreme pessimism often voiced concerning the feasibility of obtaining reliable results in the face of the transmitted nature of the sources in historical linguistic studies of ancient Hebrew. Arguably, they also demonstrate the relative reliability of the Masoretic versions of biblical texts as linguistic artifacts that reliably preserve both the general contours of First- and Second-Temple Hebrew as well as much in the way of linguistic detail.

This presentation will offer some methodological reflections on approaches to NT Ethics, assessing what kinds of perspectives are possible, how these might be similar and different for NT texts as opposed to those from the OT/Hebrew Bible, and how the approach taken depends on the kinds of questions we are interested in asking and the agenda and location of our inquiry. The publication of a new edition of my work on Pauline ethics, Solidarity and Difference, provides a point of reference for these reflections, which will therefore probe the rationale for the particular approach taken in this work, including the role of the OT/Hebrew Bible in relation to the NT, as well as considering what alternative approaches might have been possible.

Should the label “synoptic” only be applied to Matthew, Mark, and Luke? Or might the author of the Gospel of John also know Mark and Matthew’s gospels, at least in part? This paper argues that John’s author did know Mark and Matthew, by tracing the editorial trajectories of two stories: Jesus’ encounter with a foreign woman (Mk 7:24-30//Mt 15:21-28//Jn 4:4-42), and the woman who anoints Jesus (Mk 14:3-9//Mt 26:6-13//Jn 12:1-8). Using a mix of rhetorical and literary analyses, and applying a model of the social imagination, the paper examines how John follows in the footsteps of Matthew by adapting these stories for his own purpose to tell his audience something about who Jesus is, and something about what the community which gathers in his name is like. Comparisons to relevant passages in Luke’s gospel (e.g., Lk 13:10-17; Luke 7:36-50) are also made to show how these women stories are used to imagine new social identities for the communities of Jesus.

Panel presentation on the theme "Teaching the Bible and the Arts in the Undergraduate Classroom."

Last year, I presented a paper on “a day in the life of an ancient farm worker.” This year, I would like to continue down the same dirt road by presenting a paper on the same general topic as part of the second project of this program unit. The paper will look at a parable of Jesus that deals specifically with agricultural slaves in the ancient world. The parable of the wise slave is attributed to the Sayings Gospel Q by most New Testament scholars, appearing in both Matthew 24:45-51 and Luke 12:42-46 (e.g. Dodd 1958:158; Luz 2005:221). The parable assumes specific knowledge of the ancient institution of agricultural slavery on the part of its audience. Yet, biblical scholars and exegetes typically ignore the contextual background of agricultural slavery when interpreting this parable. This happens despite the insistent warnings by parable scholars that individual parables should first be understood on their literal levels of meaning, before any attempts are made to jump to their metaphorical levels of meaning (e.g. Crossan 1974:86-87; Van Eck 2015:5-9). The current intent is not to unearth the metaphorical message of the parable, but rather to contribute to our understanding of the parable on its literal level by taking its contextual references seriously. The examination draws upon papyrical (Roman Egypt) and classical (Jewish, Greek, Roman) sources.

The lack of agreement on Micah’s structure is well documented. Scholars are often divided on the division between oracles and even the purposes of the oracles. In an effort to solve Micah’s structural riddles, this paper analyzes Micah based on discourse types. Building on Longacre’s approach to discourse analysis, this study employs an analysis of discourse types founded upon the underlying syntax and utilizes Cook’s aspect-prominent approach to the verbal system. Such an approach to the prophetic discourse types brings a new perspective to the structure of Micah. For example, Micah 1:10-16 is largely considered a woe oracle and the wordplays on cities’ names are alternatively seen as either the route of Sennacherib’s attack on Judah, or as simply a literary device to express general lament over their situation. Yet, a syntactical discourse approach to the passage reveals that the structure does not fit a woe oracle, but rather fits the structure of a covenant lawsuit and presents a crescendo-ing list of judgments against the nation of Judah. In a similar way a discourse analysis of the hope (salvation) oracles in Micah 4-5 reveals a chiasm built on discourse structure. While others have proposed chiasms for these two chapters, this syntactical discourse approach to the chiasm provides improvements to previous proposals and offers new insights, such as the integration of elements of hortatory discourse at the pinnacle of the chiasm.

A number of biblical texts witness a complex interplay between human agency and divine empowerment. In Psalm 18, for example, the locus of agency shifts dramatically between Yahweh’s action and that of the human king. At one point in the psalm, the king is powerless and must be rescued by the divine warrior. At another point, the king singlehandedly puts entire armies to flight. Clearly, Yahweh plays a crucial role in the king’s eventual success, but the grammar of divine empowerment in this psalm also reflects deep tensions about the king’s strength vis-à-vis that of the deity. The complexity of the relationship between human and divine power also appears in iconographic depictions of the king in the Ancient Near East. For example, numerous Egyptian sources depict the pharaoh victorious in battle. In virtually all of these images, the presence of a deity (or deities) undergirds a notion of divine empowerment. Yet, the different constellations of royal and divine images variously highlight or downplay the role of the deity in the king’s victory. Like the royal psalms, such iconographic representations were part of a sophisticated program of royal self-representation and display. They communicated the king’s glory and inculcated obedience in those who encountered the divinely empowered king. This paper explores the various modes of representing divine empowerment of the king in ancient Near Eastern art and biblical texts. Comparing pictorial and textual representations of divine empowerment reveals several distinct ways of answering the fundamental question of how divine favor inflects or determines human action.

With revolutionary theology one anticipates revolutionary concepts of sacred space, and this expectation is realized in the sun temples built under Akhenaten (ca. 1348-1331 BCE) and in the concept and design of early Israel’s portable shrine, the tent/tabernacle, supposedly dating back to the 13th century. The basic concepts for these constructions are quite different, and the contrast with the standard sacred architecture of the latter part of the Second Millennium BCE is quite striking. What is similar is the independent attempt to give architectural expression to the revolutionary theologies in question. For the architecture of Akhenaten there is considerable archaeological evidence, but for the Israelite tabernacle there is only chronologically and conceptually elusive information in the Biblical tradition, with few parallels. A key statement is Nathan’s response to David in 2 Sam 7:5-7, “Thus says the Lord: ‘Is it you who would build a house for me as my residence? I have not resided in a house since the time I brought up the Bene-Yisrael from Egypt until the present. I have been going about in a tent and a tabernacle.’” God adds a comment about never having requested of any of those to whom he had entrusted the shepherding of his people, Israel, “Why have you all not built me a cedar house?” And the “Short Hymn to the Aten,” as an example, affirms of the Aten, “Your rays light up all faces, your bright hue gives life to hearts, when you fill the Two Lands with your love……When you dawn their eyes observe you, As your rays light the whole earth; Every heart acclaims your sight.” Israel’s tent/tabernacle and Akhenaten’s temples in Akhet-Aten reflect these respective theologies, departing from contemporary standards for religious architecture. With changes in theology, Akhenaten’s temples soon emptied and the tent became a “cedar” house.

The Epistle of Barnabas provides one of the earliest examples of Christian reception of biblical apocalyptic material. Though scholarly debate about the eschatology of Barnabas has focused on Barn. 15, this paper suggests that there are clues within the document’s epistolary frame that have the potential to resolve the puzzle concerning how the author of Barnabas wishes us to understand the eschatological views of the traditional material preserved in Barn. 15. In particular, this paper analyzes the use of “Spirit-language” in chapters 1 and 21 in order to shed light on how the author of Barnabas is alluding to apocalyptic texts such as Joel 3 and Revelation 20 to make his claim. This paper argues that the author of Barnabas, as is consistent with the larger purposes of his work, is concerned to transform the Jewish conception of an earthly millennium into a distinctively Christian eschatology. Comparisons with how biblical apocalyptic material is used in the contemporaneous document 2 Clement, which appears to share some eschatological ideas with Barnabas, are then analyzed in order to support this thesis. In so doing, this paper provides a window into not only the development of early Christian eschatology but also the second-century interpretation of biblical apocalyptic material.

Narrative can be used as a powerful vehicle for the communication of the difficult and the mysterious; it can also be an objet d’art, a “joy forever.” The work of C. S. Lewis is a stunning example of writing that meets Keat’s criterion for beauty, even while it engages controverted areas of thought. We will consider two of Lewis’s most difficult and evocative works, Till We Have Face and The Great Divorce, demonstrating both the aptness of his fictive worlds for reflecting upon atonement and judgment, and the astonishing creativity of these pieces. To use Lewis’s own description of fiction, such writing can both “check the demon” of compulsive explanation, and say in the best way “what’s to be said” concerning significant and debated matters. With this dual focus, it neither devolves into pedestrian dogmatics nor abandons meaning for bare aesthetics.

Pilate: Am I a Jew?

In Early Christianity in the Lycus Valley, Ulrich Huttner explores the way Christians established communities and defined their position within their surroundings from the first to the fifth centuries. He shows that since the time of Paul the apostle, the cities Colossae, Hierapolis and Laodicea allowed Christians to expand and develop in their own way. Huttner uses a wide variety of sources, not only Christian texts - from Pauline letters to Byzantine hagiographies - but also inscriptions and archeological remains, to reconstruct the religious conflicts as well as cooperation between Christians, Jews and Pagans. The book reveals the importance of local conditions in the development of Early Christianity

Drawing from my earlier work on religious traditions in Transjordan during the Iron Age IIB, I survey briefly a few of the ‘microreligions’ that have left epigraphic and/or archaeological residue in modern-day Jordan. I focus first on interpretive issues such as religious enclaves vs. religious patchwork patterns; to a large extent, this distinction may have to do with the scope of investigation, and not with the facts on the ground. I then move to examination of four instances of textual-archaeological intersection: (1) the Deir ‘Alla text and some short Ammonite onomastic inscriptions provide some evidence for the distinctness of El-worship from YHWH-worship in the Zarqa River basin and environs; (2) the Mesha stela provides extra-biblical evidence for the institution of the herem—and specifically for its application in cases of so-called “holy war”; (3) Mesha’s application of the herem against Nebo is suggestive of larger correlations between biblical texts concerning the ‘Levites’ and the archaeological situation obtaining in Transjordan; and (4) I propose an interpretation of some archaeological data from Kh. Mudayna, recently investigated by J. H. Boertian (in FS Steiner), which intersect with textual descriptions of certain rituals carried out by cultic specialists in the biblical text. These four snapshots of ‘microreligions’ in Transjordan allow some corroboration of social and religious institutions known from the biblical text, but also introduce reminders that, as Margreet Steiner has elegantly stated, “The situation is more complicated” (Van Bekkum, FS Steiner).

The Message of Qoheleth and Pentecostal-Charismatic Spirituality

The Gerasene Demoniac may be experiencing post traumatic stress from an encounter with Roman-occupying forces or not; my point is not to look so much to the cause of possession of this Gerasene by Legion but to consider the community's distance from him over the hospitality he receives with the Jesus encounter. The Gerasene presents at least three conditions, each traumatizing and disabling in their own ways: the first is isolation; the second is emotional/psychological/psychiatric distress; and the third is internalized oppression/self loathing. To unpack a disability interpretation of Mark 5:1-20 that points to liberation through hospitality, I examine the stigma associated with PTSD and mental disability, the social construction and medical models of mental disabilities, and from psychology studies reports of self suspicion by people with mental disabilities and/or PTSD. This and other scriptural passages that report healing miracles continue to vex people with disabilities, their caregivers, and their advocates in terms of the continuing presence of disabling conditions. These texts need to be redeemed from the suggestions of unworthiness or some other failure on the part of the person with disabilities or an associate so as to raise calls for justice to undo the artificial yet palpably real violence imposed on pwd who are not "healed" and to extend the welcoming hospitality and internally reconciling peace that Jesus gave.

It is well known that Paul made significant use of Isaiah in his Epistle to the Romans. Depending on the criteria, there are about 21 marked or unmarked quotations of Isaiah in Romans. Several major monographs have explored Paul’s use of Isaiah in Romans in depth, especially those by Florian Wilk and J. Ross Wagner. Wagner especially has shown that Paul’s use of Isaiah is particularly based on Greek Isaiah. While there are a number of Isaianic themes of importance to Paul (e.g., the language of “good news,” the inclusion of the Gentiles), my interest in this paper is the theme of Israel’s justification. “Righteousness” words (dikaiosyne, dikaios, adikos, adikia, dikaioo, to dikaion, and dikaios) occur 94 times in Greek Isaiah, and many of the occurrences are in connection with the theme of the eschatological restoration and justification of Israel. It was Israel’s lack of righteousness that triggered the Babylonian captivity. As a result, Israel was put to shame in the sight of the nations. But God promises that he will comfort his people, remove their disgrace, restore them to the land, and cause them to become again a righteous people. The vindication or justification of Israel will take place by a judicial act that includes both God’s judgment upon the nations that oppressed them and God’s causing the righteousness of his people to shine forth. Then shame will be turned into glory. In this paper, I survey that theme, and show that it is the backdrop of several passages in Greek Isaiah quoted by Paul in Romans in connection with his teaching on the justification of the ungodly: Isa 28:16 + 8:14 (Rom 9:33; 10:11); Isa 45:23 (Rom 14:11); Isa 50:8 (Rom 8:33-34); Isa 53:11-12 (Rom 4:25); Isa 59:7-8 (Rom 3:15-17); Isa 59:20-21 + 27:9 (Rom 11:26-27). This suggests that Paul’s reading of Greek Isaiah informed his doctrine of justification in Romans.

Joseph Smith, the founder of Mormonism, never wrote a biblical commentary. But, like many of his Christian contemporaries, he preached out of the Bible. His sermons, indeed, are packed with allusions to and quotations from biblical texts, and the same is true of his published articles and private correspondence. Altogether, the biblical explanations gleaned from these sources provide a sizable corpus to examine his thought regarding the Old and New Testaments. But, as historian Philip L. Barlow has pointed out, Smith’s objective was “rarely to interpret and defer to the Bible for its own sake.” Nor did he “preach strictly from the Bible in Protestant fashion.” Indeed, if what attracted early converts to Mormonism was the familiar voice of the Bible in it, what they heard in their prophet’s teachings was a biblical message unlike anything they had heard before. This paper will examine several biblical texts, Joseph Smith’s interpretation of those texts, and the contemporary context that produced his interpretation of them. The passages will include those that he used to teach his doctrine regarding the nature God and humans, particularly Genesis 1:1, 26–28; 2:7; 1 Corinthians 8:5–6; Revelation 1:6. “We teach nothing but what the Bible teaches,” Smith said. And yet many of his interpretations are esoteric and very creative. As will be seen, the primary context from which he interpreted was his own sense of prophetic calling. And for him, that context empowered him to see things in the text that others did not observe.

Recent years have brought about a plethora of linguistic studies on Hebrew. Many of the conclusions of those studies have been based heavily upon large datasets. Navigating such large linguistic sets of data is generally the realm of corpus linguistics (CL) and often times involves inferential statistics. Yet, a number of recent papers, articles, and monographs, have underutilised statistical tools. We often times find ourselves with a large amount of data and some descriptive statistical tools such as graphs and charts, but fail to truly engage the potential benefits of inferential statistics that CL requires. In this paper I will discuss two main statistical tools that I have found to be fundamental to linguistic studies involving large datasets: the Guassian Curve and significance tests. I will present a brief description of these tools and their general uses. Then, I will apply them to an analysis of the variations between the “biblical” DSS and our other witnesses, focusing upon variations involving particles with special attention to the he-locale. This paper will serve a dual function. First, it will present statistical tools that are useful for many linguistic studies. Second, it will develop a comprehensive analysis of the he-locale. I will argue that statistical analysis demonstrates that pluses of the he-locale are charactoristic of the plene “biblical” DSS and that the increased use of shammah in particular likely developed alongside fuller orthographic styles.

Theophilus from Antioch wrote his treatises during the second part of the second century when he was a bishop of Antioch. The most important of his work which has survived is his apologetic treatise directed against a certain Autolycus. The treatise against Autolycus contains a long passage where Theophilus interprets the creation story from Genesis chapter 1. This paper will present a new reading of Theophilus’ interpretation of Genesis chapter one and compare Theophilus’ understanding of Genesis chapter 1 with the shorter remarks on Genesis 1 which can be found in other early apologetic texts.

Psalm 65 is a meditation of the value of poetry. It is a poem framed by a paradoxical claim: “silence is praise.” The Psalms generally delight in recommending praise, prayer, thanksgiving, and lament, while silence is described as the opposite of praise: “so that my soul may praise you and not be silent” (Ps 30:13). There is an inherent tension is the poetry of Psalm 65, which juxtaposes the “silence” of human response with the “loudness” of the created world. This can be traced through its poetic features, including the prominent rhetorical movement from human ritual practices (vv. 3-5) to the features of the established cosmos (vv. 7-9) and finally to the depiction of God as a farmer (vv. 10-14). Through this movement, it is the earth and its various creatures that “sing,” “shout,” and “roar” (vv. 6, 9). To the perception of the world’s “loudness,” the only appropriate human response is silence. Silence is thus not the cessation of lament, or even “an attitude of confident expectation,” as scholars have previously argued. Silence is rather a necessary posture that acknowledges the insignificance of human speech in the face of the abundant goodness of the created order. At the same time, these claims are made in the form of a poem of praise, so the “loudness” of the created world must be acknowledged and matched by efforts of the artistry of poetry.

Recent studies have shown that Paul’s argument can be understood before the backdrop of ancient Greek philosophy. Troels Engberg-Pedersen argued that Paul’s argument in Romans should be explained on the basis of Stoic influence. Emma Wasserman asserted that Paul’s deliberation in Rom 7 can best be understood against the backdrop of Platonic language and thoughts. Other scholars, e.g. F. Gerald Downing, claimed that there are similarities between Paul and Cynic motifs. This paper will take up the latter thesis. It will show significant similarities between Paul’s argument in Rom 1:18-32; 2:14-15, 17-29 and the Cynic tradition. This is a neglected aspect in scholarly discussion. This paper will outline points of contact by a comparison of Rom 1:18-32; 2:14-15, 17-29 and the Cynic epistle Ps.-Diogenes, Epistula 28. We do not argue that Paul is dependent on this Cynic letter, but we will show that both texts have decisive assumptions and argumentative patterns in common. In a first section, we will outline structure and argument of Rom 1:18-3:20. History of research will show that particularly Old Testament and Stoic motifs are debated as backdrop of Rom 1–2, but not Cynic motifs. Then we will introduce Ps.-Diogenes, Epistula 28 as part of the corpus of Cynic Epistles. In a further section we will give a detailed outline of structure and argument of Ps.-Diogenes, Epistula 28. We will then show that many aspects of this pseudepigraphic letter are typical for the Cynic tradition. As a next step, we will show differences between Ps.-Diogenes, Epistula 28 and Rom 1–2 that can be explained by the different provenance of these writings. The most decisive part will show significant similarities between Ps.-Diogenes, Epistula 28 and Rom 1–2. The first similarity is that both texts are accusations, another one is the topic of true and false knowledge, a third and decisive one is the motif of moral perversion that leads to punishment which is seen as death. The vices that are criticized are very similar in both texts. Both writings share the argumentative pattern that a group of “outsiders” is deemed to be morally superior. In Ps.-Diogenes, Ep. 28, the accused group are the Greeks, in Romans 2:1-16, 17-29 the Jews, whereas the “outsiders” are the Barbarians and the Gentiles, respectively. This argumentative pattern implies that the accused group is not what it seems to be, but that the “outsiders”, Barbarians or Gentiles, are better exemplars of Greeks or Jews, respectively.

The biblical texts are visible to our eyes, but they were not often, as we well know, read by their first audiences in the way that we usually read them, that is, with our eyes, silently, individually, for personal study and analysis. They were composed, transmitted, and received primarily through the media of speech and hearing. The physical, written documents were the conveyances employed to move the spoken and heard words to and among audiences. Sounds arouse perception in the human mind that identifies and organizes what is heard so that understanding can occur. Understanding is conveyed and perceived not only in rational, deductive ways, but through bodily sensations that have intellectual, emotional, and behavioral effects. Humans are creatures who perceive subtle differences of sound, receiving some and filtering out others in order to find the most meaningful. They learn to do this without being conscious of it. Different sounds are perceived to have different meanings, but sound seems to be primary, perhaps not “beyond sight,” but before sight. The sounds can evoke other bodily senses such as vision, smell, taste, touch, location, and position. There is an essential orchestration of sound that by itself makes argumentation and conveys meaning. The Letter to the Colossians, like nearly all texts, orchestrates sound to have rhetorical force. This essay analyzes selections from Colossians to see the sense of sound at work.

An early Christian artistic motif that is utilized to support the well-entrenched theory that Christian images prior to Constantine were relatively humble while post-Constantinian images exude glory is the traditio legis. Thomas Mathews challenged this theory in his book The Clash of Gods, calling such a theory the “emperor mystique.” Art historians fiercely rejected Mathews’ challenge. But examining his theory through the lens of the traditio legis illuminates the logic behind Mathews’ argument. The “handing of the law” is an image of Jesus seated giving a scroll representing the law to Peter, or Peter and Paul. An image of an enthroned Jesus seemingly represents a triumphal Jesus, and exhibits a strong influence of the imperial cult. This paper will argue, however, that the traditio legis is misrepresented by this entrenched theory. The focus of the traditio legis is not the enthroned Jesus at all, but rather the action that Jesus is performing. In giving the law, the image represents and reflects ecclesial authority, an interpretation that can be illuminated by the historical context of fourth and fifth century Rome. By examining several examples of the traditio legis the interpretation of the traditio legis as an image suggesting church hierarchy and authority can be realized.

An apocryphal Christian epistle entitled The Letter of Peter to Philip has been known since 1945 in a single manuscript from Nag Hammadi Codex VIII. In 2007, sections from another manuscript witness of this Letter became available from Codex Tchacos, and in 2010 even more fragments from this codex were made available in photograph form, which constitute nearly half the text. So far, however, these new fragments have not been published. In this presentation, I will present a transcription of the full text of the Letter of Peter to Philip from Codex Tchacos in synopsis with the text from NHC VIII and discuss the significance of variant readings between the two witnesses.

The religious beliefs and practices of Iron Age Transjordan still remain much terra incognita. Ongoing excavations at Khirbat Ataruz, however, may add significantly to our knowledge of the issue where the excavations have uncovered a large Iron Age temple and other building remains dated to the late Iron I and early Iron II periods. The temple most likely came to an end due to the Moabite conquest of the site, as recorded in the Mesha Inscription. The evidence indicates that the temple was a multi-chambered sanctuary with three parallel rooms containing various cultic installations and a copious number of cultic objects. To the east and west of this main sanctuary area were two possible high places equipped with stairs and auxiliary cultic installations attached to the high places. The temple was also equipped with a “holy cistern” with a bull relief inside the wall. The temple and its courtyard contain at least several altars with remains of burnt animals bones and more than 300 cultic objects. Some noticeable artifacts from Ataruz include a “bull” storage jar, a terracotta bull statue, terracotta shrine models, a Moabite inscription column, several incense burners, a snake-motif decoration bowl, a bronze belt, and cup-and-saucers among many other cultic objects. Given the site’s potential ties with the Mesha Inscription, the discovery of a temple at Ataruz is likely to shed important light on the religion and history of Iron I-II Transjordan society, particularly in relation to the Iron Age kingdoms in the region.

In his important work The Christian Imagination: Theology and the Origins of Race, Willie James Jennings argues for “the emergence of spaces of communion that announce the healing of the nations through the story of Israel bound up in Jesus” as one necessary step toward facilitating a healed Christian social imagination (p. 293). In this paper, I suggest that a reading of the book of Acts that attends to the narrative’s use of ethnic reasoning may help to recover a more compelling, embracing, and welcoming Christian social imagination. In particular, I examine the narrative’s use of ethnic reasoning in Acts 28:1-10 in order to show how Luke: a) uses the designation “barbarian” to raise the trope of the inhospitable, uncultured, and superstitious barbarian only in order to subvert the ethnic stereotype of the Malta islanders; b) employs the social-cultural ritual of xenia (“ritualized hospitality/friendship”) to show the creation of fictive kinship relationship between those who worship Paul’s God (the God of Israel) and the Maltese; and c) respects the cultural and geographical spaces of those peoples who are incorporated into the this new people-group. Finally, I suggest briefly that these three components of Lukan ethnic reasoning are not isolated to Acts 28:1-10 alone but are, rather, confirmed through Luke’s narration of the ‘Christian’ movement’s expansion into non-Judean territory. His reversal of ethnic stereotyping, use of the ritual of ritualized friendship, and respect for the spaces of non-Jewish peoples suggests a broader Lukan strategy of ethnic reasoning that may hold some promise for healing a racially diseased Christian social imagination.

Exodus 4:24-26 is one of the most puzzling texts in the Pentateuch. A large part of this is due to the textual silences and resounding actions. One manner of interpreting this incident is through the anthropological concept of liminality. Drawing on Arnold Van Gennep’s description of the tripartite structure of a ‘rite of passage’ and Victor Turner’s analysis of the ‘betwixt and between’, Exodus 4:24-26 can be understood as a synthesis of a ‘ritual of status elevation’ and a ‘ritual of status reversal’. As Moses wrestles with the deity, Moses transitions out of death into life through Zipporah’s heroic act in her son’s circumcision. When viewing Exodus 4:24-26 as a portrait of both rituals of status elevation and status reversal, the text in its present narratival position forms the hinge for the identity of Moses. What appears to be a narratival pause or brief break in Moses’ journey undoubtedly alters his course. In this brief scene, opposing elements such as speech and silence, structure and fluidity, action and passivity and life and death are intricately interwoven in the unpredictable, undefinable moment of liminality. Having just been commissioned to deliver the people of Israel from Egyptian oppression and reassured that all those who sought to kill Moses have died, the life of Moses is in jeopardy once again. This time, however, YHWH seeks to kill Moses. The vulnerability of Moses expressed through the narrator’s use of ‘him’ and juxtaposed to the rather blunt naming of ‘YHWH’ as the attacker vividly depicts the subservience of Moses. During this period of liminality, Moses stands at the brink of mortal danger. Past promises are obscured by silence, and hope for Moses, and consequently the people of Israel, remains in question. Uncertainty pervades this moment. Although the Hebrew text does not give reason for YHWH’s violent encounter, Zipporah’s immediate act of circumcising her son saves Moses’ life. Here, blood is the catalyst. Transition embodied by the blood results in transformation. On the one side, YHWH enters the scene and seeks to kill Moses, and on the other side, Zipporah circumcises her son. Moses lies in the middle. Moses traverses the boundary between death and life through the shedding of blood. Though Moses is indisputably a central character in this rather difficult text, portraying Moses through status elevation and status reversal draws attention to the complexity of his liminal experience and accentuates the centrality of blood.

Much work in the missional congregation formation has dwelt on the New Testament. This paper seeks to explore the theology of the Torah- more specifically the Book of Numbers, and its contribution to the development of a missional society.

We respond to the papers presented with philosophical (Johnson) and biblical (Jones) perspectives.

Paul is a central, even paradigmatic, character in both popular and scholarly versions of Christian origins and the development of Christian thought. However, the result is not a singular Paul; indeed, the history of interpretation suggests the opposite: Pauls abound. This paper explores the historical, ethical, and theological value of the multiplicity of stories within and around the Pauline letters. Considering how characters, plots, and intertexts become local and translocal places for diverse identifications and significations opens up an alternative approach to the largely orthodox and universalizing Paul that predominates among both Christian and non-theist narrations of the mind of Paul. The narrative character of social identity and values engenders a theological and philosophical orientation to biblical text—even letters—that embraces multiplicity and calls for an articulation and adjudication of complex, intersecting, and competing values and ideals.

In this essay, I argue that the authors of Ezra-Nehemiah are vernacular cosmopolitans, and that their use of embedded written documents constitutes a form of colonial mimicry. I use both terms (“vernacular cosmopolitan,” “colonial mimicry”) as articulated by Homi K. Bhabha. Bhabha describes minorities in contemporary Britain as “vernacular cosmopolitans,” people caught up in a globalized world that they themselves have little power to control. Bhabha uses the term “vernacular” to highlight the enforced particularity of minorities, in contrast to the cosmopolitanism of white British liberals who experience little tension between their idealized conceptions of universal human rights and their own horizons of potentiality. The subjectivities of vernacular cosmopolitans is necessarily hybridized and is constituted through acts of colonial mimicry, the attempted imitation of dominant cultural forms by marginalized people. Colonial mimicry, because it never fully displaces the forms of the subordinate colonized culture, is always incomplete, ambivalent, “almost but not quite.” My analysis of colonial mimicry in Ezra-Nehemiah focuses on two textual units: Ezra 7-10 (the narrative of Ezra’s mission to Yehud) and Neh 8-10 (the covenant renewal ceremony). Specifically, I study the role of embedded written documents in these texts. As vernacular cosmopolitans living on the geographical fringes of successive Persian and Hellenistic empires, the Judean authors of Ezra-Nehemiah would have experienced royal power through the medium of written imperial documents like edicts, inscriptions, and epistles and through the activity of the imperially-imposed court system. The Artaxerxes rescript in Ezra 7-10 mimics the form of an imperial edict to claim royal legitimation for the Judean Torah. It invokes a strategically literal “misreading” of propagandistic documents like the Cyrus cylinder that assert Persia’s generous support for local cultways. In so doing, it implicitly questions the universalistic pretentions of the Pax Persica. The covenant renewal document (Neh 10:1-40) is more directly subversive in its colonial mimicry. It follows a lengthy penitential prayer (Neh 9:5b-37) that treats Persian domination as Yahweh’s punishment for Israel’s disobedience to Torah. The embedded document in Neh 10 uses writing, a medium of official control, to assert local autonomy. It mimics the basic form of a binding legal document produced under the auspices of the imperially-sanctioned court system, but it lacks any reference to Persian imperial authority, and it binds the community to the conditions of its ultimate release from imperial domination (i.e., obedience to Torah). I conclude that Ezra 7-10 and Neh 8-10 both reflect the work of vernacular cosmopolitans using colonial forms of mimicry to legitimate Torah as the binding law of the Judean community, but in so doing they express very different relationships between empire and Torah: in Ezra 7-10, Persia sponsors Torah; in Neh 8-10, Torah overcomes empire.

Research has long noted the presence of elements corresponding to various versions of the Greek Bible in the Matthean fulfilment citations, even if the most distinctive characteristic of these citations was seen in their apparently direct usage of the Hebrew text. Recent studies have taken up advances in the study of the Greek Bible to postulate that it is no longer necessary to suppose that Matthew’s citations reflect direct work with the Hebrew texts; instead, Matthew’s citations are to be explained simply on the basis of usage of the various versions of the Greek Bible or, more provocatively, on the basis of Matthew’s own particular version (Matthew’s Bible). This paper asks if this evolving consensus is justified. In the light of new knowledge regarding ancient versions of the Greek Bible, it re-sifts the evidence that the Fulfilment Citations constitute a unique corpus within the Gospel of Matthew and asks whether these citations display a unique textual basis and even a general outlook that differs from the author of the gospel. The paper concludes by drawing out the implications the Fulfilment Citations provide for the textual history of the Greek Bible at the end of the first century.

Robert Rollinger argues the following (in Rollinger, R., 2014. Thinking and Writing about History in Teispid and Achaemenid Persia. In K. A. Raaflaub, ed. Thinking, Recording, and Writing History in the Ancient World. Oxford: John Wiley & Sons, pp. 187–212, here p. 187):"It is often assumed that with Cyrus’s conquest of Babylon in 539 Mesopotamian history came to an end and a new “Persian” epoch began ... . Yet this opinion causes difficulties because continuity and change appear side-by-side during this time ... Since the Persian Empire was a multiethnic and multicultural conglomerate ..., it is hard to define what may be regarded as genuinely “Persian”; any ethnic interpretation of the extant data seems problematic and anachronistic." Rollinger captures in this quote the present state of insight in the Persian Empire. Although the Persian Empire carried numerous unique features, one should not ignore the continuities with customs and peoples of former imperial regimes, as well as its incorporation of a diversity of ethnic and cultural identities. These insights warn against an “over-interpretation” of the uniqueness of the Persian period, a tendency which often emerges in biblical scholarship. It is, however, understandable that biblical scholars tend to overemphasize the novelty of the Persian period, and see a dramatic break with past conditions in this transfer of imperial power. Biblical writings like Deutero-Isaiah, Haggai, Ezra-Nehemia, as well as the ending of Chronicles indicate how dramatic an experience the transfer to the Persian period must have been for those who were exiled before by the Neo-Babylonians, as well as for those who remained in the land. What stood in the sign of continuity with the past when viewed from the imperial centre signified dramatic discontinuity from the perspective of those on the periphery who were uprooted by the imperial forces. This contribution will examine the implications of these views on Chronicles studies, and studies on related Old Testament historiographies.

More than eighty years after the publication of Walter Bauer’s magnum opus Rechtgla¨ubigkeit und Ketzerei im a¨ltesten Christentum (Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity), we are still struggling with how to responsibly and meaningfully write and speak about Christian orthodoxy and heresy in the period before the great ecumenical councils of the fourth and fifth centuries. One of the most salient features of Bauer’s legacy has been to complicate any discussion of “orthodoxy” and “heresy” as reified historical essences or theological parties. It is now widely (although not universally) recognized that “orthodox” and “heretical” are doctrinally-informed labels rather than neutral descriptors, and so may not be used to describe the various actors, texts, or doctrines in any history that aspires to conform to modern historiographic standards. Despite this awareness, it has proven difficult to speak of subsets of ancient Christianity (or ancient Christians) for which “heretical” and “orthodox” previously served as handy labels. Moreover, isn’t it the case that, as historians, we need to account not only for the diversity of early Christianity, but also the rise of orthodoxy – even in spite of its diachronic mutability? This paper surveys four current methodological strategies for recovering a vocabulary for these phenomena: (1) the notion of “proto-orthodoxy”; (2) the discourse analysis approach, a.k.a. the study of “heresiological representations” or “the rhetoric of heresy”; (3) the contrasting of “heresy” not with “orthodoxy” per se but with legitimate ecclesiastical authority, drawing on the sociology of deviance; and (4) the aggressive repudiation of the Bauer thesis, grounded in disputes with Bauer’s methodology and that of his interpreters. I assess the strengths, weaknesses, and limitations of these approaches, and consider whether the pre-Nicene (or pre-Chalcedonian) period differs sufficiently from other periods in Christian history to warrant its own methodological framework for discussing unity and diversity.

Was there a “Q community?” There are many who think that any Quest for a “Q community” is a fool’s errand. To what extent are we justified in extracting a distinctive community or group from a hypothetical text? While the consensus among Q specialists is that Q was composed by Galilean “village scribes,” it remains unclear whether these scribes can (or should) be identified as belonging to any particular social location, group, or community. In this paper, I wish to revisit this vexing question, focusing on several soundings in Q that might allow us to better understand Q’s rhetorical-discursive and symbolic-religious interests vis a vis the central institutions of Early Judaism: the Torah, the Temple, and messianism. In this paper, I intend to identify several distinctive textual coordinates with which we can map Q’s authors, readers, and redactors within the social, textual, and theological landscape(s) of Second Temple Judaism.

The Textual History of the Ethiopic Old Testament Project (THEOT) has carried out studies on the textual history of a number of Ethiopic Old Testament books. These studies have normalized the following sets of sound-alike letters: hoi, haut, harm (h sounds); alph, ayn; saut, sat (s sounds) ; and tsaday, dsappa (ts sounds). Generally also considered the same are first and fourth order vowels for alph, and first and fourth order vowels for ayn. In order to investigate the orthographic history of the Ethiopic Old Testament, this paper focuses on those sound-alike letters, which have been previously set aside. The goal of this paper is to contribute to the larger discussion concerning the orthographic character of the Ethiopic Old Testament. For this study, we used Ethiopic Obadiah as a test case to develop the necessary methodology by extending the computer scripts used in other THEOT studies. We created an algorithm to generate three databases that specified the variants: one that contains only orthographic variants, another where the Ge`ez text is normalized, and a final one where it is not. At this point we used existing THEOT computer scripts to generate dendrograms (a statistical tool based on hierarchical clustering) for each database to identify the families of manuscripts. We then programmatically compared the three dendrograms to determine what connections there are between the orthographic character of the manuscripts and their textual history. The methodology was then adjusted to study orthographic change chronologically by comparing earlier manuscripts with later manuscripts. This study contributes to THEOT’s goal of telling the textual history of the Ethiopic Old Testament. A brief discussion on future directions for our research will conclude the presentation.

A number of the minor agreements occur in Lk 8:9-10 and its parallel passage in Mt 13:10-11,13 against the Markan parallel in 4:10-12. To enlist them, 1) the noun maqhtai,;(disciples) 2) the absence of ‘circular’ language, i.e., the expression which ‘puts Jesus or his disciples at the center of a circle.’; 3) O` de (avpokriqei,j) ei=pen;(and he said) 4) the infinitive form ????a? (to know); 5) plural form of ‘mysteries’; 6) participle + negative particle + verb in v. 10 in the i[na clause (purpose clause). This study investigates the minor agreements and the differences between Lk 8:9-10 and the parallel passages in Mark and Matthew and attempt to determine whether Luke was dependent of Mark and the so-called Q or another source. The study demonstrates that the minor agreements in this passage are too significant to be ignored or regarded as happening by coincidence. Accumulated evidence of minor agreements evidences that Luke and Matthew did not consult Mark as a source for the composition of the passage in Lk 8:9-10.

Paul’s rhetorical strategy in Romans 2:25-29 appears to be to denigrate his implied Judean interlocutor, and thereby to elevate the status of Christ-believing gentiles. To succeed in making his case, Paul tries to destabilize the distinction between Judeans and non-Judeans around the issue of circumcision: he refers to “uncircumcised” people who “keep the requirements of the law” (v. 26; cf. Rom 8:4). But this creates tension in his argument: how can an uncircumcised person be reckoned as a law keeper when circumcision is itself a precept of Judean law (so Stowers)? Interpreters have done their best to ease this tension. Some have argued that Paul is accentuating the primacy of the law’s spirit or true intent over the law’s letter; gentiles keep the former by faith (e.g., Wolter, Barrett, Cranfield). Others have suggested that Romans 2 has in view righteous gentiles who observe part of Judean law (e.g., Nanos, Leenhardt). More extreme proposals include dismissing the passage as not Pauline (e.g., Sanders), arguing that it envisions a merely hypothetical scenario (e.g., Kuss, Wilckens), or suggesting that Paul has reduced the law to a set of moral provisions (e.g., Schreiner). Each proposal tries to evade the fact that Paul is speaking of full law observance by gentiles without circumcision (cf. Donaldson, Boyarin). But such observance is, strictly speaking, impossible (so Käsemann). Paul’s assertion that an uncircumcised person can be reckoned as a law keeper is problematic for many scholars primarily because the point of comparison is Paul’s relationship to his contemporaries in early Judaism. Paul’s views seem anomalous (e.g., Barclay) or even sui generis (e.g., Wright) when compared with this setting. This paper proposes a shift in focus away from examining Paul vis-à-vis Judaism, and toward a comparative reading of Paul that examines his treatment of law as part of a well documented, cross-cultural process in the study of religion known as rectifying incongruity (e.g., J.Z. Smith). The incongruity for Paul is the reckoning of gentiles as members of Abraham’s family apart from law, while still maintaining the importance of law for his Christ groups. When Paul asserts in Romans 2:26 that an uncircumcised person who keeps the precepts of the law will have his uncircumcision looked upon as if it were circumcision, he asserts what scholars of Roman legal history might refer to as a legal fiction (e.g., Ando); that is, gentiles are reckoned as if they were fully law observant without actually being so. This fictive observance accomplishes analogously what Roman jurists sought to accomplish by means of their use of the fictio, namely, to accommodate Roman law to the incongruities generated by conquest by treating litigants in newly acquired territories as if they were citizens (so Ando). The point of the comparison is not to suggest that Paul deployed legal fiction like a Roman jurist, but rather to argue that Paul’s accommodation of Judean law is not unique; it can be seen as part of a recognized cultural pattern known as rectifying incongruity.

OBSERVATION IN RABBINIC LITERATURE OF LATE ANTIQUITY The rabbis of late antiquity certainly drew conclusions based on observation, even if their conclusions were often faulty and based on what would today be considered pseudo-scientific proofs. For the purposes of this study I am interested in cases where observations, even faulty observations, trumped or were quoted in opposition to biblical or rabbinic traditions, for example promises of reward, as well as instances where observations of reality are depicted as forcing a change in halakhah, medical practice, Jewish astrological assertions, theological conceptions, and the like. It is hoped that this will give us a window into changing rabbinic evaluations of reality-based observations, especially compared to the authority that rabbis conferred upon scriptural exegesis and rabbinic tradition. Finally, I am interested in cases where halakhot, aggadot, or medical cures are rejected because they are found to be based on a faulty foundation. That is, the earlier medical cure does not work, a promise of reward fails, or the halakhah depends on human or animal behavior or physiology, the nature of the cosmos, and the like, which prove to be false and are therefore rejected. We concluded that reality based objections and cures based on observation achieve literary expression in the Babylonian Talmud almost exclusively from the late-third and early-fourth century CE until the final editing of the Talmud. Subsequent studies will hopefully reveal whether or not these developments are part of a larger change in Babylonian rabbinic appreciation of the importance of the evidence of one’s senses and the observation of reality, and whether we find evidence of a comparable change in surrounding cultures. In addition, we concluded that the rabbis recognized that medical cures and halakhah belonged to different categories since they had unique futures that distinguished one from the other. For example, rabbis were willing to transmit multiple versions of cures, acknowledging that they did not always work and therefore supplying alternative cures in the event of failure. This was virtually never the case with regard to halakhah, with only one exception. Recent studies that have emphasized the inextricability of halakhah and aggadah need to take this conclusion into account and further nuance their claims, since at least in one area we find objective criteria by which to distinguish between the two realms, as well as proof that the rabbi

It has long been acknowledged that the comparative method can provide us with valuable insight into the book of Proverbs. Other ancient Near Eastern (ANE) wisdom literature in Egypt (e.g., Amenemope), Mesopotamia (e.g., Shuruppak), and Syria (e.g., A?iqar) dominated the scholarly conversation for some time. Eventually, the discussion expanded to include proverbs in modern oral cultures (e.g., African proverbs). However, what is largely lacking in the comparative approach to Proverbs is a wisdom tradition which far exceeds the ANE wisdom literature in quantity, namely Arabic proverbs (amthal) and maxims (?ikam). While the field should be grateful for Riad Aziz Kassis's relatively recent work, The Book of Proverbs and Arabic Proverbial Works (1999), there is certainly more to be gleaned from the Arabic literary tradition. In fact, the sheer vastness of the corpus not only provides a wealth of comparative material, but also contains a greater depth of discussion regarding proverbs themselves. This provides us with a clearer window into the ideology, role, and social function of proverbs in a language and society which does not vastly differ from that of ancient Israel. Accordingly, in this paper I will focus particularly on the ideology of proverbs in the Arabic literary tradition in comparison with the biblical book of Proverbs. By describing the ideology regarding proverbs (amthal) and maxims (?ikam) as expressed in a wide array of texts (proverb compilations, advice literature, poetry, letters, etc.) we can gain insight into the motivation for compiling and collecting proverbs (compare Prov 25:1), their didactic relevance, and most distinctly their actual role and status in the society. In these regards, the Arabic literary tradition can help us broaden our perspective and deepen our understanding of the ideology and status of proverbs in ancient Israel as well.

The origin of the interpretation of Song of Songs as a description of God’s relationship with his beloved community, either Israel or the church, has been an ongoing problem in the study of this short biblical work and its history of interpretation. Some have argued that it is inherent to the work’s composition. Others have located its transformation from secular love song to divine love song in the socio-political transformations that occurred in Jewish society during the Second Temple period. Still others have situated its development in the process of incorporating Song of Songs into the canon of ancient Israelite scripture. This paper examines the deficiencies of these earlier proposals and offers another option: the language and imagery of the Northwest Semitic combat myth in Song 8:6b-8:7a, which identifies love with YHWH as the victorious divine warrior, triggers the interpretation of Song of Songs as a divine love song. This argument receives additional support from the earliest interpretations of Song of Songs in 4 Ezra and Revelation, which interpret Song of Songs in the context of apocalyptic discourses that likewise draw heavily on the combat myth.

In 2007 K.C. Innemée and Y.N. Youssef published a tenth-century wall painting of the Dormition of the Virgin Mary in the monastery church of Deir al-Surian. This painting depicts Mary on her deathbed as seen in later Dormition iconography, but it contains unexpected variants. First, the central figure in the usual place of Christ is a great angel with large red-tipped wings. Second, instead of the twelve male apostles, six women with censers surround Mary’s deathbed. This early iconography thus combines key elements found in two ancient Dormition traditions; the oldest so-called “palm” Dormition narrative depicted Christ as a Great Angel and the oldest “censers” Dormition manuscript (published by Agnes Smith Lewis) depicted women bringing Mary censers. No published Dormition manuscript contains both the Great Angel and the women with censers, but I propose this painting may reflect an Urtext that did. Certain literary artifacts suggest that both traditions could have emerged from a single older tradition. For example, Stephen J. Shoemaker has shown that originally women were depicted with Mary when she died, but that later scribes replaced the women with men. In another example, the oldest “palm” narrative depicted the Great Angel giving Mary a secret book and telling her to give it to the apostles – and the oldest “censers” narrative depicted Mary giving books to women to carry to their homes around the Mediterranean. Later scribes, however, typically redacted the books. Finally, the oldest “censers” narrative said Mary set out the censer of incense to God, taught, disputed, exorcised, healed, sealed, sprinkled water, and led the prayer – but later scribes independently redacted these markers, diminishing the depiction of her church authority. The trajectory of this censorship could account for two Dormition text traditions rising from a single Urtext such as depicted in this wall painting.

Yahweh’s promise of an eternal kingdom for David (2 Sam 7:11b–16) contains a number of differences between the textual witnesses: Will Yahweh make a house for David or the other way round? Will the temple be built for Yahweh’s name or for Yahweh himself? Will Yahweh establish forever the throne of David’s offspring or the throne of the kingdom? Should Saul be mentioned in v. 15 or not? Finally, is the question of David’s kingdom or the kingdom of David’s offspring - and does it make any difference? The paper provides an analysis of the problems in light of all the attainable and, as yet, unpublished textual data in order to see how textual criticism contributes to the literary and redaction critical theories about the origin of the passage.

As Wellhausen noted long ago, the Priestly Code has generally furnished “the normative scheme for modern accounts of” biblical sacrifice. Relatedly, scholars have tended to search for the common or central function of Israelite sacrifice, which is thought to constitute or belong to a single coherent system. What has been neglected as a result is the diversity of sacrificial forms, and their corresponding theologies, espoused by the Pentateuchal sources. Four in particular merit discussion. P’s sacrificial system, epitomized by the rituals performed on the Day of Atonement (Lev 16), maintained the purity of the tabernacle and, more generally, of the camp or nation. If sacrifice according to the Priestly Torah is, as Israel Knohl has argued, unilaterally commanded by YHWH, without any reciprocal expectation of divine blessing, the so-called Yahwist views sacrifice as a human invention, an improvised response to God’s disappearance. Thus, Cain and Abel, YHWH’s neighbors to the east of Eden, spontaneously “bring offerings” to their parents’ former landlord (Gen 4:3-5); later, when YHWH has forsaken earth for heaven, Noah will similarly offer the first “burnt offerings” (Gen 8:20-22). In both cases, sacrifice constitutes what anthropologists call “gift exchange”: Abel’s offering wins YHWH’s “regard”; the smoke of Noah’s burnt offerings “pleases” YHWH, who in exchange vows never again to destroy all life. “The Binding of Isaac” (Gen 22) suggests yet another view. As in P, this sacrifice is demanded by God, but now it takes the form of a substitution, thanks to which human life is ransomed from an implacable divine negation. Finally, Deuteronomic law disenchants sacrifice altogether. It no longer functions as a metaphysical transaction — as purification, as ransom — nor as a reciprocal exchange — as though humans were capable of offering a gift that God might somehow benefit from or enjoy. It is merely and purely an expression of thanksgiving, a ritual of “rejoicing” (Deut 12).

If the Q source did not repeatedly name the Pharisees in its most sustained invective (11:39b-44, 46-52), one could safely suppose that its specific criticisms were waged against priestly elites. With its focus on the Pharisees’ preoccupation with tithing, purity of tableware, burial practices, and prestigious positions at banquets, synagogues, and marketplaces, Q’s indictment smacks of polemics against priestly elites like those in the Testament of Moses (7:3-10) and Tosefta (Mena?ot 13.21; cf. b. Pesa?im 57a). Moreover, archaeological evidence increasingly reveals the existence of galvanizing class distinctions in the first century CE that separated elites (including priestly elites) and non-elites along precisely these lines. While the elite Jewish material imprint evinces Eastern Terra Sigillata A tableware, varied oil lamps, domestic architecture with banqueting spaces, and ossuaries and monumental tombs for burial, non-elite Jews largely eschewed Eastern Terra Sigillata A, almost exclusively used Jerusalem-imported “Herodian” oil lamps, had much more modest houses, and buried their dead in trench graves. This corroboration of textual and archaeological data provides a substantial foundation for analyzing class distinctions in late Second Temple Judaea, in spite of the general distaste for class analysis among ancient historians in recent decades. In this paper, I follow an emergent group of scholars by adapting Pierre Bourdieu’s understanding of class distinctions as subjective and socially habituated, but economically overdetermined, for sociohistorical analysis of first century Judaea. In situating Q’s anti-Pharisaic polemic in its mid-first century Galilean setting, I contend that it testifies to a pre-Destruction local view of Pharisees as a contingent of the ruling classes. Whereas scholars often depict the Sadducees as economically and politically powerful, but the Pharisees as only religiously and socially influential, I maintain that Q and the archaeological record do not allow for such a neat bifurcation of power. After addressing several issues in textual reconstruction, I demonstrate that scholarship concerned with redescribing the Pharisees simply as a “sect” (i.a., Overman) or “retainer class” (i.a., Saldarini) cannot make sense of the socioeconomic critique in these woes. Rather, material evidence demonstrates that the class habitus Q objectifies is that of elites, thereby cautioning against a rigid separation between Pharisees and the aristocracy. The problem, however, is that there is no specific archaeological record of Galilean Pharisees before 70, and the sources of their wealth are difficult to determine. This paper proposes on the basis of Q, Josephus, and recent archaeological evidence that Galilean Pharisees were elites who lived in cities and in village mansions like those at Yodefat. I argue that most of their wealth must have derived from land tenancy. Through a critical analysis of Q’s description of Pharisaic tithing, I further suggest that Q alludes to collaboration and fluidity between the priestly elites and Pharisaic elites in the political-economic promotion of tithing from crop yields. Thus, Q’s depiction of the Galilean Pharisaic class habitus indicates a socioeconomic situation proximate to the priestly elites and implies Pharisaic concern with tithing and land tenure—two structures that facilitated the socioeconomic asymmetry from which the Pharisees benefited.

Pirqei deRabbi Eliezer (PRE) has long been regarded as a curious appendix to classical Midrashim, different in form and content from earlier Rabbinic works. The text has been related to a range of intertexts, including classic Rabbinic literature, the Pseudepigrapha, and Targum Pseudo-Jonathan. This paper will argue that the Hebrew Bible is by far the most important of PRE’s intertexts, for several reasons. It is the only text that PRE explicitly acknowledges as a written text. It explicitly quotes from Hebrew Bible over 600 times, in ways that suggest it regards it as the supreme authority in religious life, and these quotations permeate the work. PRE structures itself in part on an exposition of topics and themes in Genesis and Exodus, which form the subtext of the work, though every other book of the Bible is quoted by it at least once, with spikes of interest in Ezekiel, Isaiah, and Proverbs. There are also numerous quotations from the Psalms, a fact that is consonant with later interest in that book as evidenced by Midrash Psalms and Targum Psalms. PRE keys thematic discourses into its Biblical exposition, a number of which concern the Torah itself. Given its centrality in Rabbinic theology, it is hardly surprising that Torah should be a major theme of a work such as PRE, and much of its teaching of the subject is traditional. However, PRE’s choice of traditions about the Torah and its treatment of these are instructive, and reflect the originality and creativity of the work. This paper will analyse three thematic discourses on Torah in PRE, concerning: (i) the role of Torah in the creation of the world; (ii) the conversation between God and Torah that took place prior to the creation of Adam; and (iii) the revelation of the Torah at Sinai. An analysis of these discourses will provide new insight into the breadth of PRE’s intertextual relationship with Bible, and will throw light on the dialectic within PRE between tradition and innovation.

The notion of moral injury has recently emerged as a diagnostic and interpretive category within contemporary psychology, military studies, and clinical literature. Moral injury refers to the deleterious effects of war participation on moral conscience and ethical conceptions—the wrecking of a person’s fundamental assumptions about “what’s right” and how things should work in the world that may result from a sense of having violated one’s core moral identity and lost any reliable, meaningful world in which to live. Work on moral injury has applied the category to the interpretation of various kinds of literary texts and war-related practices, with a special eye toward how this injury is experienced and what practices might lead to its healing. This paper explores how, if at all, the emerging category of moral injury may provide a new heuristic lens for interpreting biblical warfare texts. The paper will consider the different aspects of moral injury and how they can illuminate the responses to warfare and violence that appear in texts related to Iron Age Israel and Hellenistic Judaea. Moral injury may especially provide a new way to understand the portrayals of particular warriors and their actions, as well as the functions of various rituals related to warfare in the biblical texts.

Biblical scholars have noted the presence of juridical diction and legal images within the prophetic corpus of the Hebrew Bible, including the book of Ezekiel. In recent years, scholars increasingly recognize that Ezekiel is a valuable resource for understanding how Judahite identity evolved under Babylonian, and later Persian, hegemony. Although scholars acknowledge the presence of legal elements in Ezekiel and that the book is a valuable source for investigating Judahite identity, few have examined the relationship between the two subjects. Specifically, how these legal elements inform the rhetorical logic of Ezekiel’s project of identity formation has not been investigated fully. The purpose of this paper is to address this question through an examination of Ezekiel 16. Building upon the insights of scholars like Meir Malul, I contend that Ezekiel 16 uses juridical diction and legally significant imagery as part of its rhetorical strategy to make a case for a specific conceptualization of Judahite identity. Ezekiel 16 argues that the severe punishment of the ???? community is neither the result of divine abandonment nor evidence of the nullification of the covenant between YHWH and his people. Rather, it responds to those who may have argued that the punishment is evidence that the covenant was revoked with a review of Israel’s “legal history” to demonstrate the continuing validity and enforceability of the covenant. This covenant was and, in the aftermath of Babylon’s conquest of Judah, can be the mechanism by which Judahites could affirm an identity that was not a tenuous, fragile, and legally unprotected status on the margins of ancient Near Eastern society. Instead, this covenant is the means by which Judahite identity can be secure, prosperous, and even exalted under YHWH’s legal custodianship. Lastly, I assert that the legal framework of this chapter illumines from a different angle some of the troubling elements that have (rightly) disturbed many scholars. In particular, I argue that this legal framework provides a rationale for this chapter’s insistence that “the punishment fits the crime” and conceives Jerusalem’s silence as the legal response to the veracity of the charges delineated in Ezekiel 16.

This paper will discuss the key theological motifs articulated in the Book of Haggai through an evaluation of various historical, exegetical, and redactional issues critical to its interpretation, yet still the object of ongoing scholarly debate. Illustrations will be given as to how one’s position on one or another of these disputed issues changes one’s perspective on the theology and intention of the book. In our analysis, special attention will be given to the recent major commentary by Martin Leuenberger.

This paper employs theories of haunting to read the Gospel of Mark alongside a variety of materials relating to the Roman Emperor. In so doing, I argue that the relationships between the figures of Jesus and the emperor are both more subtle and complex than is typically seen by empire-critical New Testament scholarship. Haunting names the ways that absences can be felt as presences, and how distinctions between life and death are not as clear as they may seem. The Roman Emperor was a figure frequently situated at the interstices of life and death. Their achievement of apotheosis colluded with the diverse practices of the Imperial Cult, which rendered the absent emperors present throughout the ancient Mediterranean. These transgressions of life and death are matched by countless stories of emperors driven mad by the ghosts of their slain enemies, or appearing as ghosts themselves to trouble the living. The exceptional figure of the Roman emperor embodied the very limits of the human, as his affective presence molded the shape of cities and daily life across the empire. The emperor and his image were thus an inescapable, haunting presence in the Roman Empire. Jesus’ death via crucifixion (Mark 15:24-37) is an obvious evocation of the spectral logic of imperial power, occurring in Judea but authorized by the emperor in Rome. The empty tomb story (Mk 16:1-8) likewise evokes comparisons with apotheosis tales of Romulus or the emperors. Scholars like Peter Bolt and N.T. Wright have argued against such comparisons, while Richard Miller more recently claims they are categorically the same. However, such categorical comparisons (relying on problematic cultural binaries like “Jewish” vs. “Greco-Roman”) do not capture the complexities at play. Indeed, an empty tomb is but one way in which questions of life and death surround figures like Jesus or the emperor. After all, scenes like Jesus’ walking on the sea where his disciples see him as a ghost (Mk 6:45-53) and his transfiguration (9:1-10) have been read my many scholars as post-resurrection stories inserted into the story of Jesus’ life by Mark. Given the remarkable absence of post-resurrection appearances at the end of Mark’s gospel, such potential glimpses earlier in the narrative are all the more striking. Haunting helps articulate these sorts of disruptions in linear time, as past and present mingle in the figure of Jesus. The resurrected Jesus thus haunts Mark’s gospel, while also signaling the subtle ways in which he mimics the emperor. The emperor was a constantly felt supra-human presence in the ancient world, embodying the porous boundaries between life and death. The representation of Jesus in the gospel of Mark bears the spectral marks of the emperor in this way. Both Mark's Jesus and representations of the Roman Emperor are thus haunted by the ultimately undecideable relationship between life and death.

In Revelation’s depiction of the created order, the earth, sea, and sky—and all the creatures therein—are caught up in an eschatological drama. This eschatology has proved detrimental to the ecological imagination inherited by the modern world. John’s scenario, in which the earth is destroyed and God creates a new heaven and a new earth, obviates any need to care for the ecosphere. Such an attitude is not just a vestigial inheritance: it persists today in our politics and moral actions. My paper aims to ask: how did we get from there to here? To understand how Revelation shapes modern attitudes toward the environment, its history of interpretation becomes paramount. One way to begin to answer such a question is in the world of art. In the tenth through fifteenth centuries, illuminated manuscripts of Revelation became increasingly popular, often created as stand-alone documents for wealthy individuals. Manuscripts such as the Trier Apocalypse and the Bamburg Apocalypse will provide insight into how the ecological perspective in Revelation was interpreted in particular times and places. Another example, the opening image in the Douce Apocalypse (c. 1255 – 1270), shows the angel’s appearance to John on the island of Patmos. The Island is understandably surrounded by the sea, in which we find fish, a boat with a dog, and an island with a man hunting a rabbit. Understanding the kind of “visual exegesis” (Berdini 1997) in such a depiction will explicate the nexus of text, interpretation, and understanding of the environment. In the upcoming Fall semester (2015) I will be a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute in Minnesota, where I will be working closely with the Hill Monastic and Manuscript Library (HMML) in order to gain access to many of these manuscripts. Building on the work of scholars such as C. Rowland and I. Boxall (and others), I will examine key manuscripts in various times and locations. Some of these illuminated manuscripts, like those mentioned above, are ancient. Others, like the St. John’s Bible, will be quite modern. These artistic representations of Revelation will be explored in order to understand the use and impact of Revelation in terms of ecology. Such a perspective on its impact is inherently political. This is particularly true today, when overtly uncritical Biblicism shrouds the purview of our political leaders creating an inability to articulate a supple understanding and interpretation of the Bible as it relates to ecology. Exploring these manuscripts—thus accessing the use and impact of the Bible in various times and places—will situate us to be able to give an estimate about what Revelation can “do,” not just what it has “done.” Here I am eager to incorporate the work of B. Breed, whose book “The Nomadic Text: A Theory of Biblical Reception History” aims to ask not just what a text meant, but what it “means” and what it “can do.”

Did the redactor of Luke know and use Matthew? An important piece in the argument for Luke's direct use of Matthew is the similar way each Gospel closes the sermon on the mount/plain. Champions of both the Farrer Hypothesis and the Griesbach Hypothesis for solving the Synoptic Problem cite the parallel transitional phrase (Matt 7.28 // Luke 7.1) as a decisive aspect for answering the question of direct literary dependence. In Matthew not only are characteristic vocabulary and phraseology employed, but also the phenomenon in question constitutes the first of five such transitional phrases, which bring the five major discourses of Jesus to their conclusions. Therefore, the case for Luke's direct literary dependence seems so strong to some scholars that Mark Goodacre, for example, claims “We could hardly ask for a clearer indication of the way the wind is blowing....” Yet, despite the data's importance in the argument for Luke's direct use of Matthew, to date there has been no focussed, detailed investigation of the parallel phenomena. The paper, therefore, offers the first analysis of a wide variety of features. Linguistic elements such as word order, syntax, word choice, inflection, use of connectives, sub-unit division and prominence in the discourse are considered. At the same time the location and function of the transitional phrase within the larger narrative of each Gospel is analysed. Attention is given not merely to common turns of phrase in the two Gospels, but also to such issues as transitions between episodes and also larger sections in the narrative, characterisation and the development of plot lines. Are there commonalities of a significant qualitative and quantitative nature to make the case for direct literary dependence probable? Alternatively, how might the phenomena be explained on the supposition that both Matthew and Luke have access to a source that is no longer extant? The investigation has all the more significance as the Farrer Hypothesis, increasingly gaining support over the past two decades, has for many become the principal alternative to the Two Document Hypothesis.

In the HB Egypt functions both as the paradigmatic symbol of Israelite oppression, provoking YHWH’s miraculous deliverance, and as an on-again-off-again political ally to Israel and Judah in the face of threats from superpowers to the east. Since the Israelite prophets view alliances with Egypt as a threat to the people’s sole dependence on YHWH, they thus present a predominantly negative perspective on Egypt. Ezekiel is no exception, implicating that nation in Israel’s rejection of YHWH (e.g., 16:26; 20:7–8) and pronouncing devastating judgments on both the land and its people (e.g., 30:1–19). Nevertheless, the oracles against Egypt in Ezek 29–32 reveal a surprisingly complex portrait of that nation and its Pharaoh, offering a window into Israel’s attempts to make sense of national and ethnic otherness. This paper will first examine the depictions of Egypt in Ezek 29–32 against their backgrounds in the book of Ezekiel, the Hebrew Bible as a whole, and Egyptian literature and iconography, giving particular attention to the metaphorical portrayals of Egypt or Pharaoh as a dragon (29:3; 32:2), a reed staff (29:6), and a towering cedar in Eden (31:2–9). It will then discuss the significance and rhetorical aims of these portrayals, considering what they would have conveyed both to Egypt and to Israel.

The Jewish Origin of Glossolalia

In responding to our 2014 paper entitled, “Cultic Theosis in Paul and Second Temple Judaism,” N.T. Wright inquired about the implications of Paul’s cultic language in Rom 3:25 for understanding justification. In this paper, we would like to take the opportunity to respond to Wright’s question, namely, how does Paul’s teaching that Christ’s blood serves as a hilasterion relate to his view of justification? In order to accomplish this, we will first examine the multi-faceted nature of the place of hilasterion language in the faith of Israel, including its relationship to both atonement (e.g., Lev 16:13–14) and martyrdom (e.g., 4 Macc. 17:22). As for the former, we will draw on the work of J. Milgrom, R. Gane, and J. Sklar to suggest that atoning sacrifice should be seen as having both juridical and purifying dimensions. Moreover, as Gane demonstrates, the Day of Atonement serves to uniquely vindicate the justice of God. In terms of the latter, drawing on the recent work of D. Campbell, we will suggest that the martyrdom traditions are best understood against the backdrop of these cultic traditions. From there, we will turn our attention to Paul’s use of hilasterion in Rom 3:25. In particular, we will examine the it within the larger context of Paul’s argument in Rom 3:21-26. In addition, we will look at the hilasterion passage in view of Paul’s account of Christ’s death in the other undisputed letters, focusing on 2 Cor 5:21. Lastly, building on the work of S. Finlan, we will conclude by arguing that Paul’s manner of linking Christ’s atoning death to justification suggests that the juridical and participatory aspects of Pauline justification are able to be unified by means of viewing justification itself as cultic.

Despite the dearth of information about the religious communities that would have read the Apocryphon of John in antiquity, each of the four surviving copies are preserved in codices whose construction, contents, and concerns provide strong evidence that the tractate was popular among Egyptian monastic communities of the fourth—and probably fifth—centuries. Of further interest, these four copies attest to two versions of the text, one of which represents an extensive redaction of the other. Aside from extensive additions to the redacted version, the contents of all four copies are similar enough to infer that the redacted version is the product of an editorial program that adapted the tractate’s contents to the editors’ socio-religious ideals. Beginning with this premise, this paper demonstrates that the redacted version’s reconfiguration of the Adam and Eve narrative reflects a significant reconceptualization of the text’s approach to sex, gender, and marriage and, moreover, that this reconceptualization reflects an ongoing conflict over the status of women and marriage at the end of the fourth and beginning of the fifth century. More specifically, I argue that the editors of the Apocryphon of John’s redacted version recast the relationship between Adam, Eve, and divinity in order to shift the earlier version’s more egalitarian social contract toward an androcentric model that (aside from its mythological underpinnings) would not have been out of place in a contemporary episcopal community.

This paper will discuss recent updates and tools that are provided through sedra.bethmardutho.org.

Mark begins his Gospel with clear indications that the character and story of Jesus are to be interpreted in light of scriptural precedents. This cue to his readers provides strong reasons for assessing Mark’s Christology against early Jewish understandings of God and how God’s work might or might not be shared with other agents. In light of this, proposals by Larry Hurtado and Richard Bauckham have isolated key markers of God’s unique identity, recognized ways that such markers are ascribed to Jesus, and concluded in favor of an early divine Christology that might well be called proto-Nicene. In sustained conversation with these proposals (and the work of those who have followed them), this paper will engage in a narratological approach to Mark’s Jesus from the perspective of an informed Jewish reader in order to argue that Mark’s high Christology is best captured under the rubric of “idealized human figure.” First, the study will show how the crucial titles son of God and son of man develop in concert with each other and with the disclosure of Jesus’s mission to the reader. Together these key markers of Jesus’s identity show him to be a representative, suffering, and to-be-glorified ruler. Second, it will demonstrate how Jesus’s mighty deeds, including his power over the waters, work together to demonstrate that Jesus is the man specially empowered by God to rule the world on God’s behalf. Third, it will assess the possible divine connotations entailed in Mark’s allusions to the scriptures of Israel. In each instance, Jesus is in some sense identified with God; however, the paper will make the case that the significance of this conjunction is not to identify Jesus as God, but to identify Jesus as the idealized human figure through whom God is enacting dominion over the world.

Feminist readings of the Epistle to the Hebrews span the past decades and illustrate significant shifts in method and approach in the discipline of feminist biblical studies. The work of Ruth Hoppin (1969), Mary Rose D’Angelo (1992, 2012) and Cynthia Briggs Kittredge (1994) has brought critical theological questions to the text of Hebrews about suffering, and punishment, obedience, priesthood, perfection, solidarity, and community. A book length study in the Wisdom Commentary series by Mary Ann Beavis with Hye Ran Kim-Cragg (2015) excavates the submerged sophialogy of Hebrews from the vantage points of multiple disciplines for theological construction and critique. This paper will explore the most urgent theological questions that are addressed in recent feminist reading of Hebrews and will evaluate the impact of feminist biblical interpretation of Hebrews on constructive feminist theology.

In a first step it will be argued that Q 11:9c “search and you will find” is a common proverb which was used by Jesus in the independent logion Q 11:9-10. This explains why in Gos. Thom. 92:1 only Q 11:9c is found although the Gospel of Thomas knows the whole aphorism Q 11:9 (Gos. Thom. 94). It will be suggested that the object of the act of searching was the kingdom of God (Q 12:31). In a second step the history of religion background of the sentence about searching and finding will be explored. (Old Testament, Qumran, Hellenistic philosophy, especially Epictetus [Diss IV 1,51] and Philo). The word “searching” is never used in connection with prayer in the Old Testament. This means that the application of the proverb Q 11:9c in Q 11:2b-13 to prayer is an innovation. The theological use of “searching” in the older parts of the Old Testament does not include the usual understanding of searching in the sense of asking for something unknown, but means to turn to God as an act (e.g., Ex 33:7; 2 Chr 20:4; Hos 5:6) or to search for God as a status (e.g., Ps 40:17; 105,4; Jer 29:23; 50,4). Searching for wisdom means to receive the traditions of the past (Prov 18,15). Only in the younger parts of Old Testament wisdom is something to be explored (e.g., Qoh 7:23-29; 8:16-18). The question to be addressed is to which tradition does the gnomic verse Q 11:9-10 belong. “Searching” is not an intellectual matter but embraces the whole existence and the kingdom is not a hidden reality but, according to the message of Jesus, open for everyone. In a third step the reception of Q 11:9-10 in Q and in the Gospel of Thomas will be explained.

This paper discusses the spatial dimension of rabbinic impurity laws as expressed in Talmudic narratives of conflict in the late antique city. Rabbinic Judaism understands places wherein impurity collects as posing an especially severe threat to priests. The rabbis, however, also developed the principle that engagement with the Torah and the sages who embody it trumps the restrictions of ritual impurity and that priests may, therefore, be contaminated with impurity for the sake of Torah and its scholars. Not surprisingly, this principle was highly contested in rabbinic circles and often utterly rejected by rabbis of priestly origin. The Palestinian Talmud, for instance (y. Ber. 3:1, 6a), describes conflicts between priestly and non-priestly rabbis in the city of Sepphoris on occasions when the body of an important sage was placed in synagogues for eulogy. Another narrative from the same Talmudic passage recounts a conflict in a monumental archway, which has been contaminated by corpses transported in the city street. Priestly rabbis in these accounts are attacked both physically and rhetorically for challenging the superiority of Torah by refusing to enter the impure spaces. My analysis of such accounts in view of Sepphorean buildings highlights the liminality of entrances and passageways, pointing to the political dimension of transitional sites. As I argue, it is precisely on the threshold of the synagogue (a site imbued with priestly and cultic symbolism) and the archway (a monument that manifests imperial power and Roman religion) where the superiority of Torah over impurity must be asserted and a religious choice must be made. I conclude by suggesting that the rabbis mapped ritual impurity onto the urban topography as part of their effort to position themselves and their Torah in the city.

How can we read the Bible in the face of today's many environmental crises? This question is as timely as ever. It also prompts a related question: how can biblical interpretation fruitfully engage current environmental studies approaches that seek to mitigate these crises? The aim of this paper is to uncover biblical attitudes and virtues conducive to practical social-ecological measures addressing climate change, fishery collapse, salinization, etc. By introducing the concept of resilience thinking, a scientific model to understand and govern human-nature interactions, the paper highlights biblical tropes suited to promote a specific ecological management practice. This practice offers constructive ways out of one of today's biggest environmental challenges: the loss of resilience, i.e. the ability of complex social-ecological systems to absorb multi-scalar environmental change.

In autocracies throughout history, and in ancient Near Eastern monarchies specifically, rulers have tended to remain in power due to some perception of their right to the throne (usually a divine and/or hereditary right). This makes usurpation difficult ideologically as well as practically—to gain the throne, a usurper must unseat the sitting monarch, whose legitimacy has already been established, then somehow persuade the members of the polity that the right to the throne has been transferred. Failure to do so could lead to further coups and a rapid demise of the new regime. In this paper I examine the rhetorical strategies employed by disparate ancient Near Eastern usurpers. I will show how usurpers from widely divergent areas of the ancient Near East, from the Hittite Old Kingdom to Persia, tended to justify their coups in the same ways: they claimed a divine mandate, asserted that a former ruler wished them to take over, showed how their predecessors had forfeited the right to throne, and more. Interpreting this rhetoric in concert both allows us to better interpret individual instantiations of such justificatory claims and provides important insights into ancient Near Eastern royal ideology. Additionally, this investigation allows for an interesting comparative study with the biblical narratives describing the accessions of the two rulers of the so-called United Monarchy—the David narrative coheres well with its ANE comparands, but the Solomonic Succession Narrative is almost completely devoid of the expected rhetoric.

No abstract submitted

Court tales are a well-attested literary genre among the writings of the Jewish Second Temple period, as well as the ancient Near East more broadly. However, most studies on the early Jewish court tale genre have focused principally upon Daniel 1-6, Esther, the Joseph Story (Gen. 37-50) and A
ikar, often treating other early Jewish examples of this genre in a merely cursory manner. Moreover, with the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls, several previously unknown ancient Jewish court tale texts were discovered; however, several of these recently discovered court tales have only been published officially within the past decade. Consequently, they have received only a preliminary examination, and little work has been done to integrate research on these texts into broader portrayals of early Jewish thought and literature. The question, thus, arises: how should we understand the ancient Jewish court tale genre in light of the expanded corpus, which is now readily available to scholars? This presentation will examine recent scholarship on court tales, and will identify problems within earlier analyses of this genre, as well as offer some prospects for future study of the court tales.

The Levantine Iron I is wedged between two periods of extensive record keeping – the Late Bronze Age with its myriad archives, inscriptions, and associated pictorial depictions, and the Iron II with similar types of records supplemented by assumed contemporaneous narratives embedded in the Hebrew Bible. From its very outset, archaeology of the Levant bridged the Iron I gap by extrapolating information described in these early or later sources and by deducing the meaning of the cultural developments of the era. The case of Aegean-derived pottery—one of the best-known phenomena in the archaeology of southwestern Canaanite Iron I— is a fine example. This pottery has been interpreted, based on its identification by typology and production technology, as Aegean; a selective reading of Egyptian sources and the biblical narrative has led scholars to assume that this Aegean pottery indicates settlement of the Philistines in southwestern Canaan. This, despite the progress in archaeological deliberations that emphasize a complex process that was responsible for the appearance of this type of pottery in the Levantine littoral and the flaws in the association of Pots and Peoples, the lack of any reference by these written sources to the settlement of the Philistines in the same period, and the progress in archaeological dialogs regarding transcultural exchanges in the Late Bronze/Iron I Mediterranean. Based on these factors an alternative approach is advocated, suggesting a colonial encounter perspective for the Aegean migration to southwestern Canaan and its place in the local society.

Serial is a podcast from the creators of “This American Life,” based on true events: in Baltimore in 1999, high school senior Hae Min Lee was murdered, and her ex-boyfriend, Adnan Syed, was unanimously convicted by a jury for her murder. But each episode of Serial invites speculation as to Syed’s innocence or guilt, as producer Sarah Koenig narrates the actual—and conflicting—evidence of the events and of Syed’s character. The producers write, "What [Koenig] realized is that the trial covered up a far more complicated story, which neither the jury nor the public got to hear…all of it leads back to the most basic questions: How can you know a person’s character? How can you tell what they’re capable of?" Those “basic questions” can also be asked of the biblical character Balaam, who vows that he will only do and say what YHWH tells him to do and say, and in the narrative, ultimately blesses Israel. Balaam’s own testimony would suggest that he is righteous. But God’s anger is kindled at Balaam, and Balaam’s own donkey is a character witness to Balaam’s foolishness and blindness. Num 31 discloses that Balaam was connected to the sin of Ba?al Pe?or and justifies Balaam’s death sentence. Moses appears as a witness for the prosecution in Deuteronomy, bearing testimony to Balaam’s connection with the foreign nation Moab and conjecturing that Balaam wanted to curse Israel. While Balaam’s story is complicated in the Hebrew Bible, in the New Testament he is unanimously convicted as a false teacher, and one who loved gain from wrongdoing. Sketch artist Hieronymus Bosch paints Balaam positively in Christian reception history, while Rembrandt paints him negatively. This paper will place the stories of Balaam and Syed into conversation, a conversation which will illuminate the process of coming to judgment about someone’s character as evidence unfolds.

While scholars are cognizant about not importing anachronistic conceptions about ontology back into first century Christian texts, proponents of an "early high Christology" insist that the earliest Christ followers envisaged Jesus as sharing in the divine identity (Bauckham 2008), as relating to his followers according to the pattern of Yahweh's relationship with Israel (Tilling 2012), or as receiving cultic worship in a distinctive binitarian devotional pattern (Hurtado 2003). In contrast, Michael Peppard's ground-breaking analysis of Markan Christology displays how biblical scholars continue to be influenced by Platonic categories and re-contextualizes divine sonship against the backdrop of imperial adoption practices (2011). The Roman imperial parallels he draws complement the scholarship on the intertextual links of Mark 1:9-11 with other biblical texts (e.g., Psalm 2:7), texts that suggest that Mark framed the baptism of Jesus as the moment when Jesus was elected or anointed for his messianic office as the Davidic king and the deity's son. Although some theologians label adoptionist Christologies as "low" from the vantage point of the Nicene Creed, Peppard rightly protests that the application of this metaphor by the early Christ congregations to the exaltation of Jesus was a remarkable development in light of how adoption was often the means by which complete control of the Empire was transferred to the most powerful benefactor in the Roman world (2011, 95; cf. Ehrman 2014, 231-232). Even those Markan episodes in which Jesus seems to carry out a divine prerogative such as walking on water (Mark 6:47-52; cf. Job 9:8; Psalm 89:9) can be interpreted as Yahweh extending his authority to the empowered human representatives who rule on his behalf (cf. Crossley 2010, 140-141; Kirk and Young 2014). I will argue that the Markan Jesus is the authorized agent of the god of Israel who has been chosen to rule after the impending eschatological reversal. Further, based on the findings of my monograph on the second canonical Gospel’s early reception history (Kok 2015), I will argue that second century Christians who held to a "possessionist Christology" (Goulder 1994, 108-113, 130-134) or a "separationist Christology" (Ehrman 1996, 140) saw an ally for their Christological convictions in Mark’s narrative, though their questions about the union of the divine Christ with the human Jesus or whether a divine being could suffer need to be kept distinct from the concerns of the first century Gospel writer.

Much of the Hebrew Bible is written after and in response to the Babylonian assault on Judah. Within this literature of trauma, there are texts that are even more explicitly tied to pain and suffering; foremost among them is the book of Lamentations (Eicha or "How"). As a response to one trauma, Lamentations then moves forward carrying the echoes of that trauma into a variety of other contexts. In ritual, Lamentations is canted in its entirety on Tisha b'Av, the commemoration of the destruction of the first and second Temple. Fragments of Lamentations also embed themselves in other parts of Jewish liturgy that seemingly have nothing to do with Jerusalem's destruction. After the Holocaust, Lamentations became a site of division and debate as Jews struggled to incorporate the experience into the liturgical calendar. This paper will analyze the meanings of Lamentations at the intersections of text, ritual and experience. Since the text and its ritual enactment are cultural products, I will employ a theory or trauma oriented around aesthetics and politics (rather than psychology and the social sciences); in particular, this paper will draw on the affect theories of Lauren Berlant, Jill Bennett, and Susan Sontag.

My presentation will integrate epigraphic evidence and scholarship on associations (e.g., Ascough, Harland, Kloppenborg) and on the political culture of Imperial period Asia Minor (e.g., van Nijf, Zuiderhoek) for the purpose of more fully understanding the socio-political implications of Pauline associations self-designating as a civic entity—the Greek ekklesia (“assembly”). It has become clear that, generally, the citizenry (demos) of Imperial Greek cities had, to a large extent, lost the kratos necessary for the formal exercise of classical Athenian demokratia through their civic ekklesiai. Nevertheless, the civic ekklesia continued to play an important role in the construction of a political culture, especially in Asia Minor, wherein the influence of the demos became a positive factor in the spread of oligarchic munificence. This political culture included not only widespread festivals and monumentalism but also a ubiquitous “ekklesia discourse” (e.g., Salmeri, Miller), each of which continued beyond the 1st century CE. Associations became a mediating influence between the demos and the bouleutic/oligarchic elite through, for example, the establishment of networks of euergetism and patronage. Given that associations frequently adopted political terminology for their organizational structure (e.g., civic leadership titles), without undue negative reaction from the Romans, it does not seem likely that an association which also self-designated as an ekklesia (i.e., Pauline communities) would have raised Roman suspicions. It appears more probable, rather, that an ekklesia association would have been perceived as making a positive attempt, albeit an ostentatious one, at integrating itself into the grass roots “ekklesia discourse” of Imperial period Asia Minor

As a unique, but also befuddling, glimpse into late antique magical practice, the Mesopotamian incantation bowls have received increased attention the past decades. While previous efforts mainly study their linguistic and textual features, more recently Erica Hunter and Naama Vilozny have described and analysed their decorative patterns. Both conclude that these are contextual artistic expressions, relying more on extant Mesopotamian demonology and apotropaia than the Jewish or Mandean religious affiliation expressed in the texts. What, then, of the crosses found in Syriac incantation bowls? Even though a Christian background is generally thought unlikely for the Syriac bowls, they still include a number of cruciform motifs. This paper explores these cruciform motifs, and then enquires first into their role and function within the incantation bowls themselves, before exploring the wider contexts the motifs might be drawing on. The results show some congruence between the motif and a bowl’s text and script, but it is still undecided whether these patterns are due to religious affiliation, place of production or some other circumstance.

Research on Malachi underwent an important shift during the last twenty years. While form and genre critic were dominating research during most parts of the 20th century (i.a. E. Pfeiffer, “Die Disputationsworte im Buche Maleachi,” 1959), at the end of the century questions of literary production, of Tradentenliteratur and intertextuality came into focus (cf. H. Utzschneider, Künder oder Schreiber, 1989; K.W. Weyde, Prophecy and Teaching, 1999; Th. Hieke, Kult und Ethos, 2006). Today, we can speak about a consensus among scholars, if not in detail so in general, when it comes to literality of the prophecy of Malachi. The whole book shows tight intertextual connections to older prophecy as well as the Pentateuch. It has to be read on the background of scripture, actualizing it for the contemporary religio-historical context of the Persian period. How does this fit with an apparently cultic milieu the book stems from? Mal 1:6-2:9 discusses the sacrificial cult; Mal 2:17-3:5 speaks about cleansing of the children of Levi and 3:6-12 mentions the necessity of tithing. The situation in Malachi is different in comparison with older prophecy and its Kultkritik. Although the critic of the priests and their way of conducting offerings is strong in Malachi, a good relation between the God of Israel and his people as well as their ability to communicate is still directly linked to the cult and cultic practice. Taking all these observations into account, it is necessary to continue a discussion about the Levites’ function as those collecting and reworking texts at the temple (cf. J. Schaper, Priester und Leviten im achämenidischen Juda, 2000) and their connections to the sacrificial cult. What can we say about the connections of cult and the growth of scripture on the basis of the Book of Malachi?

In Col 1:9–10, the author prays that his audience would be filled with “knowledge”, “wisdom”, and “understanding” and that they would be “bearing fruit and increasing in the knowledge of God.” A number of scholars have noted that the phrase “bearing fruit and increasing” imitates the scriptural language of Gen 1:28. With respect to the wisdom language of “knowledge”, “wisdom”, and “understanding”, interpreters typically suggest that it is either the mere use of stock Jewish wisdom vocabulary as found in the OT and early Jewish literature, or the use of specific scriptural texts such as Exod 31:3, 35:31 and/or Isa 11:2, 9. This paper proposes that underlying the wisdom and creation language of Col 1:9–10 is a widespread Adamic wisdom motif (surfacing in the HB/LXX, the NT, and other early Jewish and Rabbinic literature) in which Adam is portrayed as one endowed with wisdom. This paper has two aims. First, I seek to remedy the lack of sustained research on this widespread tradition by drawing attention to its presence and use in Sirach (17:1–32; 24:19–34), the Dead Sea Scrolls (4Q504 frg. 8, I:4–15; 1QS 4:21–23), and Colossians (1:9–10; 1:15–20; 3:9–10). Second, I suggest that Colossians is significantly indebted to the Adamic wisdom motif (Col 1:9–10; 1:15–20; 3:9–10) which may have been deployed to counteract a tendency in the church at Colossae to find wisdom in sources other than Christ.

Although the possibility of rabbinic traditions informing Jerome’s translation of the Bible “according to the Hebrews”, the so-called Vulgate, has long been acknowledged, identification of these traditions remains a desideratum. Such identification involves challenging, but manageable source-critical issues. We now know more about Jerome’s more general methods from the works of Kamesar, Newman, and Graves. They indicate that Jerome’s grammatically informed rabbinic-recentiores philology provides a basis for incorporating unreferenced oral rabbinic traditions in his translation. This paper examines several renditions from the book of Numbers that reflect Jerome’s practices including his utilization of these Jewish traditions. For example, he distinguishes between trumpet calls in Num. 10:5-7 and offers a striking rendition of Num. 25:8 “and [Pinchas] went after the man of Israel into the inner room” as “he went after the man of Israel into the whorehouse [lupanar].” In addition to uncovering references in a biblical book that has not been examined, this paper proves that Jerome continued to apply the same approach to biblical translation as reflected in his Hebrew Questions on Genesis as well as his Latin versions of Genesis and Exodus.

Hexateuchal Redaction in Joshua

Hosea 7 is one of the difficult chapters in the Book of Hosea: the text is disrupted at several places and in some instances an understandable text can only be obtained by using conjectures. Already the textual base is thus difficult to secure. Additionally the chapter –like others in Hosea- does not seem to follow a linear narrative or argumentative concept, but shows signs of discontinuity. This aspect could point to a text featuring more than one voice. At the same time the text displays traces of poetic forming: parallelism, wordplay and catchwords are poetic devices that can be found in it. Based mainly on a semiotic concept of "the poetic" as described by Jurij M. Lotman, the paper will first give an outline of the overall structure of the chapter. Then it will focus on the crucial verses 3-7, trying to use the structure of the text as a tool that helps to find a way towards discerning the more probable possibilities of reading the text from less probable ones. Finally the paper shall discuss, whether the multi-voiced character of the text as it stands is rather part of its poetic feature (the text would then be a polyphonic text in the sense of Mikhail M. Bachtin) or the result of an editorial process.

In Rom. 11:3–4 Paul quotes 3 Kgdms 19:10 and 18 in a form that greatly differs from the wording of the majority text of the Septuagint while having four agreements with the Lucianic textual tradition. In this paper I argue that Rom. 11:3–4 shares with the Lucianic text pre–Pauline textual variants that may reflect Hebraizing revision. Therefore, compared to previous attempts to explain the text-critical matters in Rom. 11:3–4, the paper offers a completely new solution. Is Paul an early witness for kaige-type readings in 3 Kgdms 19? Paul is an early but unreliable textual witness, for he often modifies the wording of his quotations in order to make them support his argumentation. Therefore, I will address the question of how to distinguish between Paul’s adaptations and pre-Pauline textual variants, and I will suggest which deviations from the Septuagint in the quotations should be attributed to Paul. Then I will examine different possibilities to explain the curious agreements between Romans and the Lucianic text and demonstrate why the most probable solution is that the two share pre-Pauline textual tradition. The main part of the paper traces the transmission of the four variant readings that unite Paul and the Lucianic text and discusses their relationship to the Hebrew text and the Old Greek. It will be shown that Romans 11 is an interesting case for the textual criticism of Kingdoms. Paul’s quotations from 3 Kgdms offer material for rethinking kaige-type readings and their circulation on the one hand and their relationship to the Lucianic text on the other hand.

Origen’s idiosyncratic translation of Prov 2:5, with the Hebrew da‘at rendered as ‘sense perception’ (aisthesis), provided him with a scriptural basis for the development of the idea of the ‘spiritual’ senses, adding a sensory element to the knowledge of God, even if the precise relationship between physical and ‘spiritual’ senses in his thought remained unclear. Yet it is the Song of Songs, read in dialogue with select New Testament texts, that allowed him to explain the role of individual senses in the divine-human encounter. The Song abounds in sensory images, and the prominence of scents, beginning with Song 1:3, where the connection is made between the name, the lover’s very identity, and fragrance, was noted and creatively interpreted by Origen, and later by Gregory of Nyssa. The notion of ‘spiritual’ senses in Origen and Gregory has received considerable scholarly attention, yet there has been less interest in how exegesis, on the one hand, and specific qualities of individual senses, on the other, inform their discussion. In this paper I propose to address this gap by focusing mainly on the ‘spiritual’ sense of smell and the interpretation of Song 1:12 in Origen’s Commentary and Gregory of Nyssa’s Homilies. In my discussion I show how exegesis and hermeneutics, as well as theological and epistemological presuppositions, and cultural assumptions about scents and sensory perception, interact, to create not only a new understanding of the text, but also to refine the authors’ own ideas about how humans may participate in the divine reality. The LXX version of Song 1:12, as opposed to the Hebrew text, implies that the fragrance given forth by the spikenard is that of the king (‘While the king was upon his couch, my spikenard gave forth his [rather than its] fragrance’). While in the Hebrew text a certain distance is retained between the two lovers, the LXX implies a closer olfactory connection. Origen explicitly notes the two different ways of understanding the verse, giving preference to the latter one. This prompts him to recall Mary of Bethany’s extravagant gesture of John 12:3, where Mary’s wiping of Jesus’ feet with her own hair creates a union of their scents, a union that most vividly expresses their intimate bond, but also illustrates the remarkable exchange that takes place at this encounter. For Gregory, on the other hand, Song 1:12 allows to give priority to the spiritual sense of smell, undermining the traditional primacy of sight. The verse inspires him to envisage a unique synaesthetic experience, with the bride ‘touching’ the one she seeks with the sense of smell, and ‘recognising his colour’ by the faculty of scent. Gregory then interprets the ‘good odour of the bridegroom that the purified sense receives’ as the Word’s essence, underlying the order and structure of creation, which is inaccessible, intangible, and incomprehensible.

The focus of the essays in John, Jesus and History III is on Jesus’ passion, works and words, analyzing very different texts and topics. It is a well- known fact that the Fourth Gospel tells its very own story of Jesus. It is also a very well-known fact that John uses a quite different approach in re-telling his Jesus-story by using his own lens. Nevertheless, there are still a number of questions about how the Fourth Gospel remembers Jesus. How much history is in the Johannine Jesus and what can we learn from the Johannine Jesus about historical fact? To answer such questions, it is important to understand the Johannine lens used in his project of remembering and actualizing Jesus for his own time and that of his community. Furthermore, the contributors to Volume III use different hermeneutical and methodological “lenses” to understand the Johannine special post-Easter hermeneutic. My review will ask whether we can find a unifying band in the current approaches that could be taken as a point of departure for future research. In particular, an understanding of the Johannine narrative world and the Johannine approach to the building up of meaning from the memory of Jesus might be promising. Thus, it will be necessary to integrate a variety of methods in order to find a successful approach to John, Jesus and history.

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Since the publication of Lynn White’s famous essay, “The Historical Roots of Our Ecologic Crisis,” in the journal Science in 1967, Christians have reflected on the place environmental concerns occupy in the faith and practice of the religion. As Ernst Conradie observed, early reflection generally took one of two paths. Either it set out to refute White’s thesis, or it sought to mine the Bible for its “ecological wisdom.” More recently, however, ecologically-minded interpreters of the Bible have noticed that the Bible is not so uniform in its depiction of the relationships between God, human beings, and the other than human world. Under the direction of Norman Habel, the Earth Bible Project and the Ecological Hermeneutics section of the Society of Biblical Literature have developed an interpretive approach to reading the Bible ecologically that employs a hermeneutic of suspicion that acknowledges that the Bible is not always so “green” due to its anthropocentric bias. This paper proceeds from the acknowledgement of anthropocentric bias to defend the following proposal: it is anachronistic to suggest that the Bible directly addresses the current ecological crises facing the world today, and for this reason, any attempt at a green reading of the Bible must start by reading the Bible through the lenses of today’s ecological realities. After sketching the contours of this interpretive approach, the paper will illustrate this approach through an examination of Darren Aronofsky’s 2014 film, Noah, arguing that the filmmaker effectively reflects on biblical traditions in light of an interpretive agenda framed by today’s ecological crises. The fact that the Bible does not directly address the ecological crises of today further illustrates the necessity of a hermeneutic of suspicion when attempting to read the Bible ecologically.

The Epistle of James to Quadratus (henceforth EJQ) is a poorly-known Christian apocryphal writing, extant only in Syriac and Armenian, that purports to be a letter written by James, brother of Jesus and bishop of Jerusalem, to one Quadratus. This Quadratus is either the first Christian apologist excerpted by Eusebius (HE IV.3), the prophet described by Eusebius who associated with the daughters of Philip the evangelist (HE III.37), or perhaps some conflation of the two (if Eusebius indeed considers them separate figures). In EJQ, James is reporting to Quadratus about the punishment inflicted by Pontius Pilate and the Emperor Tiberius on the Roman guards and Jewish leaders who suppressed the truth of Jesus’ resurrection (cf. Matt 27:62-66, 28:11-14). James urges Quadratus to transmit this information to John, Mark, Peter, and Paul; meanwhile, prominent Jews are converting to Christianity, and Gamaliel inwardly sympathizes with the Christian movement but remains silent for the time being (cf. Acts 5:34-39). The EJQ has only been studied in recent years by Roelof van den Broek, who translated the Armenian version into German and argued that its list of bishops for Jerusalem was based on independent Jewish-Christian traditions. This presentation will first provide an introduction to this apocryphon and its contents, and will present the first translation of the Syriac version into a modern research language. It will then assess the hypothesis that the EJQ does indeed reflect concerns and traditions characteristic of Jewish Christianity.

In a 1962 article, Humbert identified several nuances of the BH idiom šala? yad (literally ‘lay a hand’). The idiom, which generally refers to a physical, often hostile act, appears rarely in the legal sections of the Pentateuch. Two of these attestations occur in the Covenant Code’s law of bailment. Exodus 22:6-14 treats cases arising from arrangements wherein one person leaves property in another’s possession for temporary safekeeping. In v. 7 and v. 10, the bailee, who watches the owner’s goods (v. 7) or animals (v. 10), must undergo a cultic procedure to clear himself of a wrongdoing designated by the words šala? yado bimlekhet re‘ehu: having “laid his hand” on the other’s property. Scholars typically view the suspected transgression of the bailee in v. 7 as one of fraud: the bailee allegedly stole the goods bailed to him. Interpretations of the wrongdoing in v. 10 vary from Fensham’s argument that the bailee’s negligence allowed for the animal’s death (etc.), to Westbrook’s view that the bailee committed fraud through illicit use of the animal. In weighing negligence as a candidate for the bailee’s alleged wrongdoing in v. 7, some scholars have argued that the language šala? yado precludes negligent behavior. Yet contextual evidence has led others to conclude that v. 10 – despite using the very same language as v. 7 – must envision an act of negligence. This paper revisits the meaning of šala? yad, questioning whether it may bear a different valence in a legal context from its meaning elsewhere. In exploring the use of šala? yad in the bailment law, this paper proposes a parallel between the BH idiom and an Akkadian idiom for negligence, a?a nadû. Drawing on contextual and comparative evidence, this paper adduces new support for a negligence reading in both v. 7 and v. 10.

Prior to the widespread surge of interest in the Pauline letters beginning in the 390s by the likes of Augustine, Pelagius, and Ambrosiaster, Priscillian of Avila († 385/86) produced a work known as the Canons on the Letters of Paul. Despite the fact that Priscillian was executed by the church for alleged heresy, Priscillian’s Pauline Canons had an enduring influence on Vulgate manuscript production and Christian reading practices, even up through the Reformation. Priscillian’s Canons first involved a division or versification of each of Paul’s letters (Hebrews included) into sequentially numbered “testimonies.” These paratextual testimonies, or verses, encouraged easy citation and cross reference. Priscillian next composed ninety ‘rules’ or propositional summaries of Pauline theology, each of which was followed by a list of the relevant passages in the Pauline corpus that combined to contribute key terms and support each statement. In this paper I consider Priscillian’s work as both a technological and theological revolution in Pauline studies. On the technological front, Priscillian’s versification scheme created an efficient system for citing and correlating Pauline data. This, in turn, enabled a more “synoptic” approach to the Pauline letters. On the theological front, Priscillian’s synoptic engagement with Paul in his ninety canons represents, in many respects, a new, systematic form of Pauline theology. We should, therefore, consider the character of Priscillian’s Pauline theology in his Canons and the ways in which his innovative paratextual technology facilitated it.

Revisions of Old Greek towards the proto-Masoretic and other Hebrew texts begin to occur in the second half of the first century B.C.E. In the same period, proto-Masoretic biblical manuscripts occur in larger numbers for the first time. Both observations point to the second half of the first century B.C.E. as a formative period for the standardization of the Hebrew Biblical text. This paper will ask, if the increased impact of Greco-Roman culture during the reign of Herod the Great could have influenced the development of the proto-Masoretic standard text of the Hebrew Bible. Duane W. Roller (The Building Program of Herod the Great [San Francisco: University of California Press, 1998], 54-65) has shown, that after the Roman conquest of Ptolemaic Egypt Herod the Great succeeded to lure a total of 21 scholars from the Alexandrian library and Museion to his court at one time or the other. This presentation will ask in how far these Alexandrian scholars could have influenced the standardization of the Biblical text.

This paper explores ?erem in the book of Joshua as imagined genocide from the perspective of trauma and genocide studies. More specifically, it engages larger questions in genocide studies about why certain genocides are ignored, hidden, denied, or imagined. Genocide scholars acknowledge that genocides in antiquity are not forgotten but are on the periphery of genocide studies and commemoration, thereby making them cases of hidden genocides. My paper will be working with a definition of genocide that goes beyond killing fields, concentration camps, and mass death in viewing genocide as cultural destruction. In the case of the book of Joshua, now that most scholars agree that ancient Israelites did not conquer the land of Canaan but rather gradually emerged from Canaanite culture, I will explore what it means to imagine perpetrating genocide, especially when the producers of the text are responding to their own survival of cultural trauma. This paper also will broach the following questions: What does it mean to recreate a social world in the image of an imagined perpetrator? What does it mean to transform an imagined community of violence into a ‘real’ community by imagining the obliteration of another community? In the process, this paper will address larger questions of violence, genocide, and cultural trauma in antiquity.

It has been the tendency of scholars to combine childbirth metaphors into one group as a stereotype for the depiction of bad news, crisis, or distress. However, childbirth metaphors are not identical. The subjects, vocabulary, and purpose of each metaphor varies. Current research has not brought to the surface the contours of the female body in the text. I am concerned labeling childbirth metaphors as stereotypes creates an interpretations where the pregnant female body essentially disappears. Rather than consider the contribution the female body has to the interpretation, she becomes a sign, static, with a fixed meaning and fixed shape. Since this is an ancient text, it is easy to distance ourselves from the metaphor, particularly since childbirth metaphors are not used similarly in Western culture. Therefore, I will use contemporary images to help us connect with the metaphors. I present images of women in childbirth from around the world that portray the texts in the bible. It is almost eerie when these modern day pictures depict almost word for word biblical texts. By seeing modern day images superimposed on an ancient text, it becomes obvious the pregnant female body is vital to an interpretation of the text. It is the ability to ignore these images in the text itself that speaks to our ability to ignore images of the pregnant female body in our world today. These pictures are meant to provoke discussion and challenge images that, I believe, we unknowingly have created for ourselves. Forgetting the body in the text makes it easier to forget the bodies in our midst. The female body must take precedence when a metaphor of childbirth is interpreted. As the modern day images begin to mix with the ancient texts, contours of the bodies become visible. No longer is the body hidden, but becomes so sharply focused that we cannot look away. I caution that the images are graphic.

In the last decades, Johannine scholarship has witnessed an increasing interest in historical genres and genre theory as a means to analyze the Fourth Gospel in its ancient literary environment. This interest stands in contrast to main currents in 20th century form criticism, which by-passed John’s Gospel while focusing on the Synoptic Gospels. The present paper reviews highlights and trends in recent research history, presents the volume The Gospel of John as Genre Mosaic (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015), and suggests some new directions in the study of John and genre.

This paper examines the rhetorical configurations of speech, sight, and space encountered in early Christian monastic texts. Beginning with descriptive accounts, it explores the degree to which visual imagery functions to invoke the built and/or natural environments in which respective narrative traditions found their form. It then turns focused attention to the particular spaces in which monastic authors situate individual and/or communal encounters with visual media and the spoken word. By attending to the conceptual boundaries that variously delimit, define and structure the deployment of sight and speech as spatial categories, the paper concludes by considering the degree to which contemporary readers’ understanding of monastic texts might be usefully informed by deeper cognizance of the visual and aural dimensions of the late-ancient spaces in which monastic texts were variously read, recited/rehearsed, disseminated, and/or performed.

Emotions are currently in vogue in various disciplines, including disciplines that focus on the Hebrew Bible and the ancient Near East. At first glance, it seems unproblematic to assume that the psychological category of “the emotions” is relevant to antiquity: After all, how else could one classify words such as “love,” “hate,” “fear,” “courage,” “wrath,” or “mercy,” other than as emotions? The answer, it turns out, is that the classification could be very different. This paper argues that the psychological category of “the emotions” is foreign to the ancient Near East and that its usage in reference to antiquity is anachronistic and risks distorting our understanding of ancient anthropologies from the outset. Indeed, “the emotions” were the invention of late-modern, anti-Aristotelian Scottish thinkers that included David Hume (1711–1776 C.E.) and especially Thomas Brown (1778–1820 C.E.). The single, homogenizing category of “the emotions” displaced the pre-modern and more differentiated taxonomy of “passions, affections, and sentiments,” the former having emerged as a rival psychological taxonomy over against the latter. Furthermore, these rival psychologies are embedded within conflicting anthropologies. Therefore, ancient references to “the passions" are not simply another way of saying what people today mean by “the emotions.” The very fact of this distinction requires us to adopt different terminology in historical-critical work on, e.g., conceptions of “love,” “hate,” “fear,” “courage,” “wrath,” and “mercy” in the ancient Near East and the Hebrew Bible. A case study with yr’ (“to be afraid, to fear”) in the Hebrew Bible will follow and reinforce the findings of the conceptual-historical analysis.

The contemporary classification of religion as a primarily-private phenomenon generates the pervasive myth of ancient Christ cults originating from family networks almost exclusively. Recent theoretical work proposing ties between the advent of the modern nation state and the construction of the folk religion/secular binary along private/public lines is helpful, but a similar dichotomy can be traced back to Luke’s narrative of Pauline groups being founded in what this author fashions as sacred space (i.e., domestic architecture) and distinguishes from non-sacred space (civic institutions and public spaces). The odd contemporary historical practice of describing Christ groups as forming almost exclusively out of family networks while portraying Greek, Latin, and Judean associations to have emerged from a wider spectrum of networks – including ethnic, occupational, neighbourhood, and cult networks – makes an early appearance in Luke’s narrative of a uniformly-domestic Jesus movement, and is not a realistic description of cult formation within the Jesus movement.

The pompa circensis (the procession preceding the wildly popular chariot races in the arena) was both a prized moment of public visibility for the praeses ludorum who conducted the procession and, above all, one of Rome’s most hallowed religious ceremonies, hedged with ritual rules and regulations whose violation could lead to dire consequences. That is, the pompa circensis was fundamentally a pompa deorum, a procession of gods, who as statues borne on fercula (litters) and as symbols, attributes, or “relics” conveyed in tensae (processional chariots) along the arena floor. Prior to his assassination, Julius Caesar received a tensa and a ferculum in the circus procession, just like the traditional gods. Though such honors figured among the reasons for which Caesar was assassinated, Augustus cultivated dynastic connections to his adoptive father in both circus ritual and imagery. After Augustus, however, the pattern of postmortem honors in the circus procession shifted—slightly but importantly. In addition to the traditional tensa, Tiberius provided a statue of the deified Augustus borne on a large, decorated cart drawn by a quadriga of elephants. On the one hand, this ostentatious vehicle drew a “humble” distinction between the divi and the dei. On the other hand, the currus elephantorum arrogantly and spectacularly asserted raw imperial power. Even though the divus was properly distinguished from the gods, the sheer size and grandeur of this display subverted any humble, pious distinctions between humans and gods. This humbly arrogant distinction between dei and divi in the pompa circensis may be explained a number of ways. Perhaps the imperial gods were relative as oppose to absolute gods; perhaps they were simply low status gods; or perhaps they only achieved divine status relative to other humans. Given a relatively firm theoretical distinction between gods and humans, the ambiguous performance of the imperial gods in the pompa circensis pushed the limit of traditional expectations, while remaining within the bounds of the acceptable. Similar finesses would be employed for members of the imperial household: male member of the imperial domus seems to have rated only an image likely borne on a ferculum, while female members of the imperial household, including empresses at first, received a carpentum to carry the statue, though eventually some empresses themselves earned an elephant cart, albeit a biga instead of a quadriga. And so, a rough pattern of honors emerged in which the honored imperial dead were internally differentiated among themselves as well as externally distinguished from the traditional gods. Whatever the theological status of these imperial divinities, imperial custom consistently discriminated between imperial and traditional gods, even if this same distinction also made the divi present in a rather more spectacular manner. The humbly arrogant difference seems to have assuaged the religious scruples of the Roman people—that or the threat of massive imperial retaliation—even as it reconfigured, in part and perhaps only for some, the divine world whose goodwill was so important for a flourishing human society.

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Apocalyptic literature did not always exist. Nor was it simply discovered, lying latent within the pages of the Christian and Jewish Scriptures. It was invented. The first usage of the term as a genre of literature was in mediating theologian Friedrich Lücke’s 1832 study on the Apocalypse of John, where he pointed out similarities between that work and other texts that shared certain characteristics and hence were “apocalyptic.” This invention is surely one of the most significant in modern biblical interpretation. There are few biblical scholars today who would deny the centrality of understanding the preaching of Jesus and the faith of the earliest Christians against the backdrop of apocalyptic hopes. During the latter half of the 19th century the apocalyptic character of early Christianity posed a fundamental challenge to the hard-won but precarious peace between the Kantian distinction between reason and faith. Apocalyptic Christianity troubled the waters by its insistence that no harmony could be found between the two, and faith must destroy the distinction. This articulation of apocalyptic Christianity is frequently associated with Johannes Weiss (1863–1914) and Albert Schweitzer (1875–1963), who offered substantial treatments of Jesus and Paul as figures who expectantly proclaimed the end of the world. While the legacy of Weiss and Schweitzer continues to be felt in biblical scholarship, it was actually the historian Franz Overbeck (1837–1905) who saw most clearly and before anyone else the fundamental challenge presented by the apocalyptic character of earliest Christianity. In his 1873 book Über die Christlichkeit unserer heutigen Theologie (On the Christianity of Our Present Theology), Overbeck contended that the apocalyptic dimensions of the preaching of Jesus and Paul were completely incompatible with subsequent developments in Christian theology. In a harsh polemic directed at both the conservative and liberal theologians of his day, Overbeck asserted that all Christian theology had been an error, an attempt to accommodate the world in direct opposition to the ascetic and apocalyptic message of Jesus and Paul. His apocalyptic interpretation of the Urgeschichte (a term he was the first to use in reference to the earliest Christians) and Urliterature (his term for the earliest strata of the New Testament) drove him to brazenly lift the curtain of liberal erudition that veiled the smoke and mirrors of historicist theologians willing to accommodate Christianity to the mores of modernity. In this paper I present Overbeck’s interpretation of earliest Christianity, which for him necessitated a rejection of the Christian-ness (Christlichkeit) of all subsequent Christianity. I argue that though Overbeck’s critique of Christianity took the form of history it was metaphysical at its core. For Overbeck, historical research brought the abyss between apocalyptic and history into sharp relief. This abyss is not itself historical; it is the impassable border of history. In recognizing this border Overbeck relied upon an invented metaphysics: a “buffered” (to borrow a term from Charles Taylor), or closed, picture of reality. It is this closed reality that the interruptive nature of apocalyptic revealed by contrast.

Few artifacts of popular religion in late antiquity are as evocative of popular piety than Christian votives. These objects, dedicated in churches from the fourth to eighth centuries AD, were material testaments to the answered prayers of the faithful. While most types of votives lacked inherent “magical” significances, their presence bespoke the power of Christ and the saints, and their aesthetic effects of brilliance, color, and accumulation contributed to the aura of holiness at shrines. This paper focuses on votives as objects intentionally left behind in church interiors, interpreting these objects of popular piety within their original architectural and liturgical contexts. After briefly surveying the wide range of votives from the late antique Near East and Egypt, I reimagine Christian votives as parts of multimedia assemblages, from the grouped statuettes of pregnant women that hung from rods in the church of Abu Mena in Egypt, to the masses of golden jewelry adorning the tomb of Christ in the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, to the assembled icons, metal plaques, lamps, and candles that decorated the interiors of village churches in the region. By re-placing votives in groups based on their original contexts, we can envision how popular rituals of votive dedication played out in the period, reconstruct how votive deposition happened over time and within real architectural space, and tease out the delicate balance between the religious and social motivations behind such dedications. “Excavating” late antique votives from their forgotten places in museum storerooms, typological corpora, and excavation reports, this paper reveals the intricate and potent networks of sacred meaning created by intentional juxtaposition of different types of objects next to each other in church interiors.

Though much discussed, the LXX expression tís dôê, translating mî yittên, has eluded a complete solution. The translation replicates the Hebrew up to a point and is clearly intended to have the same meaning (‘would that...!’), but the choice of the optative remains difficult. In this paper it is accepted that it is a potential optative (without an), as Evans and others have taken it, but in addition it will be shown that tís with the potential optative, expressing a wish in the form of a question, is actually Greek idiom. Though rare, examples are known in Classical poetry. The proposition that the translators were familiar with this kind of educated Greek finds support in their use of the comparative optative, and another, similar poetic idiom (pôs an + opt., ‘would that...!’). The translation tís dôê, then, is not a confused blend of uses of the optative nor a calque on the Hebrew, but an equivalent that captures both the sense and the shape of the original in a Greek way.

This paper will discuss the textual history of the Ethiopic text of Deuteronomy based on a sample of more than 20 manuscripts dating from the 14th century to the 20th century.

The Gideon-Abiemelech narrative describes the struggles and leaderships of a tribal hero (Gideon) and a tyrannical ruler (Abiemelech) in a mythical pre-monarchial period. Although their leadership seems to be local rather than wholly national, their military and political accounts are far more detailed than any other deliverer-judges in the book of Judges. Interestingly, Gideon rejects the offer of kingship but Abiemelech strive for the kingship, which he does not entitle. Both of them exercise a certain degree of ruling and violence to their people. The whole narrative is vacillating on pro-monarchial ideology and anti-monarchial ideology. Instead of adopting source studies to explain the vacillation of ideologies in the narrative, this paper proposes a Bakhtinian dialogical reading to attribute this narrative of dialogical ideologies to a polyphonic authorship or redaction. According to Bakhtin, a polyphonic and dialogical narrative includes multiple voices in its unfinalized conversation and allows an intertwinement of multiple ideological positions. The first part will elaborate the concept of unfinalizability in Bakhtinian dialogism that a dialogical text does not allow domination by any single voice or ideology. In light of Bakhtinian dialogism, the second part will demonstrate the dialogical interaction and tension between a pro-monarchical voice and an anti-monarchical voice in the narrative. On the one hand, the misbehavior of Gideon as a prototype of king and the curse to Abimelech by Jotham formulate an obvious anti-monarchical voice. On the other hand, Gideon’s rejection of kingship suggestion and the absence of monarchy result in the subsequent chaos and imply an implicit pro-monarchial voice. The ideologies on monarchy also influence the view of tribal leadership and coalitions. The concluding part will attempt to explore the authorial meanings of dialogical ideologies in the post-exilic context of the final redactor of Judges.

In many ways, Ecclesiastes reads like an existentialist text, concerned as it is with life as it is actually lived and its absurdity and ambiguity. Since Ecclesiastes is also concerned with life that is lived under God, the writings of the Christian existentialist Søren Kierkegaard help us to think through Ecclesiastes. Ecclesiastes appears to be a favourite work of Kierkegaard, who frequently refers to Ecclesiastes in his various writings and writes at some length about Ecclesiastes 3:1-15. Kierkegaard mirrors the attitude sought out by Ecclesiastes, responding to God as one who knows, and against whom all wisdom is limited. This paper argues, using Kierkegaard’s work on Ecclesiastes 3:1-15, that the contradictions in Ecclesiastes are necessitated by the limits of wisdom and the unknowability of the work of God, and the necessity of living in light of God and the eternal. The contradictions in the book of Ecclesiastes appear to be inherent to the subject matter. In order to avoid the meaningless life, one must live, enjoying the life under God, but what is from God and the eternal is not entirely knowable. Therefore, the search for wisdom will ultimately be incomplete and bring about absurd conclusions, while an attitude to God of reverence and thankfulness and acting from this stance will shape a meaningful life despite what is unknown. In this light, Ecclesiastes does not seem to be so much a critique of particular theories, but of the limits of wisdom itself for determining how life is lived. More than simply instructing his readers in ‘fearing God’ or ‘remembering one’s creator’, which itself could become a form of objectified ‘wisdom’, Kierkegaard presents the contradictions as fundamental – wisdom is necessarily temporal and inadequate, and ultimately will be vanity, but it remains possible to live appropriately under God, where living fully is only happening if one acts from this stance.

Psalm 137 ends famously with a benediction on those who do violence to the bodies of little children: “Happy shall they be who take your little ones and dash them against the rock” (v. 9, NRSV). This paper explores select episodes in the reception history of Psalm 137, with a particular focus on liturgical and metrical versions of the psalm. These versions present a relatively consistent set of interpretive strategies: (1) Interpreters include the final verse, but use various rhetorical or musical techniques to soften the imagery; (2) Interpreters reframe the violence against the “little ones,” so that the children are a substitute for something or someone more deserving of such violence; (3) Interpreters truncate the psalm so as to omit the description of violence against the “little ones.” In this third option, the psalm versions typically end with v. 8, an image of violence against Babylon, who is personified as a child, namely, “Daughter Babylon.” Thus, the interpreter’s attempts to expunge the psalm’s violence against children are, at best, partial. In sum, each version of the psalm reveals the dominant mores about representations of violence in religious contexts, the sociology of children, and the differing assumptions about violence against children collectively and young girls specifically.

This presentation provides an overview of the evidence for and the methodological issues surrounding ancient Mesopotamian prayer, with an emphasis on the Akkadian material. Some of the questions pursued in this talk include: How does one determine what counts as a prayer in Mesopotamia? What physical and verbal activities might be included when Mesopotamians prayed? As our evidence is textual in nature, how do we reconstruct the text of prayers from broken tablets and deal with textual diversity when a prayer is preserved on multiple and differing manuscripts? What are the various genres of prayer attested among the evidence? Why were prayers considered efficacious and what made them so or hindered them from being so? The final third of the paper will be given to an exploration of two prayers from about a thousand years apart. One is an Old Babylonian letter-prayer. The other is an incantation-prayer from the mid-first millennium.

As the former near consensus concerning the development of Israel's historical traditions has declined in recent decades, there has been renewed interest in finding historical traditions external to the Pentateuch to gain an additional window onto the growth of this material. Among the most important of these external windows has been the historical psalms (Psalms 78, 105, 106, 135, and 136). The early Israelite prophets also regularly appeal to the nations historical traditions as they construct and deliver their prophetic oracles. In this study, I will be considering the traditions as they appear in the early prophets, both to consider how the prophets deploy these traditions and to see what light they shed on the development of the traditions themselves.

Among the Israelite šeba?îm (traditionally translated as “tribes”) described in the Hebrew Bible, the šebe? of Manasseh is unique in that it is the only entity situated both west and east of the Jordan River – in the central hills region of the west and in northern Gilead in the east. This is a striking characterization because the biblical writers otherwise cast the Jordan as a boundary between the eastern and western tribes and while these two Manassite regions do not necessarily represent contiguous areas of land, they are nonetheless viewed as a single “tribal” unit. Insofar as the biblical narratives present conflicting views of the legitimacy of the east Jordan region and those Israelites that inhabit it, Manasseh operates, at least conceptually, in both the eastern and western orbits. While most scholars acknowledge that the biblical presentation of Israel’s tribal period is a historiographical construct, there is nonetheless general agreement that those groups that eventually came to be known as “Israel” were relatively small-scale, decentralized, largely agriculturally-based socio-political entities –be they tribes, simple chiefdoms or complex chiefdoms – such that the overarching biblical characterization of the pre-monarchic groups (Iron I) is not entirely far-fetched. Yet while the general idea of a “tribal” entity spanning the east and west sides of the Jordan is a plausible socio-political/socio-territorial arrangement, there are nonetheless several conceptual and textual issues with the idea of east Manasseh. This paper explores the phenomenon of east Manasseh through the lens of literary criticism and with an eye to anthropological research arguing that: 1) the concept of east Manasseh arose separately from that of west Manasseh and 2) east Manasseh is a literary/historiographical category imagined by later writers.

(2nd session) It is frequently (if not frequently enough) said that literary allusion is a form of metaphor. However, this claim often involves only cursory illustration of metaphor, with little engagement of metaphor theory as a discipline in motion. This presentation tests well-established examples of inner-biblical literary allusion against the critical issues that recur in metaphor theory. In the end, I argue that this definition of allusion as a kind of metaphor holds up well, and provides a surer footing for analysis of allusion in the Hebrew Bible than does the more general definition, "any indirect reference." For over forty years--a good biblical span--scholars of allusion outside of biblical studies have tested a definition of "allusion" as a figurative device akin to metaphor. Conte claims outright that allusion is "a species of metaphor," and Garner's description of allusion is scaffolded onto metaphor theory. Perri and Ben-Porat (the latter almost the sole representative cited in biblical studies) both insist that allusion can only be understood as metaphor. Nonetheless, biblical scholarship in "inner-biblical interpretation" has barely acknowledged this movement, defining allusion instead according to the relative measure of how indirectly the text at hand refers to another. Examples of allusion from Daniel, Jeremiah, and Jonah provide the testing ground. Where allusion critics engage metaphor theory relatively shallowly (say, by invoking "tenor and vehicle, or by appeal to denotation and connotation), how do such claims about allusion hold up to theoretical exploration about the associated domains that accompany these terms? Sometimes, too, known allusive tendencies suggest rhetorical devices commonly associated with metaphor: for example, biblical texts often evoke two earlier texts at once, inviting a comparison to the "mixed metaphor." Finally, the distinctions that separate metaphor from related devices like simile and irony suggest themselves for better understanding inner-biblical interpretations that are not figurative.

In this paper, I wish to reflect on the issue of sex and power in the David and Bathsheba story (2 Sam 11:1-5). I will examine how Bathsheba’s beauty is used as a narrative device to erase both the necessity of her consent to intimacy and the sexual violence (rape) inflicted on her. The mention of her beauty (2 Sam 11:2) plays the role of de facto consent in the very frugal narrative economy of this biblical story. However, beautiful Bathsheba is not completely captive to David’s fantasy. As I will demonstrate in the conclusion of this paper, the self-care involved in her beautifying session completely escapes him and opens a space for her agency. First, I will analyze the heterosexual and male gaze of David as focalizer of Bathsheba (2 Sam 11:2). The (at least partially) nude woman is described as “very beautiful to look at”. In a few but effective words, the narrator describes the woman who captivates David’s attention. This might be a way to hint at seduction and to hold the woman responsible – at least a little – for the ensuing sexual aggression. Many scholars share the perception of Bathsheba as a seducer, even though it was his desire that was enticed by the view of her (2 S 11:2). Drawing upon the insights of feminist exegesis, I will discuss issues of objectification and voyeurism in the ambiguous setting of Bathsheba’s roof terrace as a private space invaded by king David’s gaze. I will consider Guest’s argument for the lesbian gaze as rivalling with the male gaze, revealing the “heteronormative script” of all interpretations and enjoying feminine beauty “without exploiting it” (Guest 2008, 246, 248). Second, I will examine how king David’s gaze materializes in an indisputably oppressive manner. He attempts to sexually appropriate the woman he laid eyes on. Verses 3 and 4 describe, in a very laconic way, how he seeks to know the woman’s identity, before he sends for her, and sleeps with her. Using narrative criticism, syntactical and structural analysis, I will argue that the fact that Bathsheba comes to him (wattabô’ ’elâyw) does not signify her consent but the authoritarian laziness of a powerful king who stays at home while his people are at war (v. 1-2). Bathsheba, as a pretty woman, is “to-be-looked-at” (Mulvey, 1975), enjoyed sexually and disposed of. I wish to disclose the violence hidden in this quick set of actions. In the conclusion, I will show how Bathsheba’s agency blossoms in verse 5 because of David’s misunderstanding of her “beautifying/bathing” session. Unlike the readers, the king ignores that Bathsheba was actually performing the sanctification of her body from uncleanness (probably menstruation) (v. 4) and is now in her fertile period. In verse 5, she is empowered by her pregnancy and is given the chance to strike back at her royal aggressor with her own “message”. Beauty opens up a space of suffering and empowerment for Bathsheba, both concealed in her “toilette” in 2 Sam 11:2.

When asked to name Scriptural texts about mission, many seminarians, congregants, and ministers turn to a commanding passage in the New Testament, such as the Great Commission or a line from Paul. Yet when one reads the entire canon of New and Old Testaments as a multi-voiced, converting document teeming with witness to God, all genres and texts of Scripture contain various guidance, warnings, questions, and narratives for the formation of missional practices and congregations. Matthew and John, for example, both stress the formation of ecclesial community as witness to the world, though Matthew focuses more on faithful obedience to Christ and John attends to love and unity within the community. Luke narrates mission through acts of forgiveness and solidarity with the poor, while Mark emphasizes the approaching presence of the Kingdom through Christ. And the promise of Abraham as a “blessing to the nations,” for example, is debated and reinterpreted across the Old Testament, sometimes in opposing ways. Add recent attention to the intertextual nature of the New Testament drawing upon the Old Testament, and the biblical canon comes alive as a plurality of voices testifying to God from different contexts of place, time, social standing, etc. Though the Scriptures speak together about faith in one God, they speak from different contexts and even disagree with one another. In short, more than commanding imperative, Scripture provides a vast and varied traditioned conversation on witness and mission. Drawing on the Scriptural examples above and biblical hermeneutics of missional logics and theology from both Old and New Testament scholarship, I will demonstrate that attention to the breadth of Scriptures, in all of their variety, provides fundamental foundations for contextually aware and discerning congregational practice of mission. As more than a book of commands and imperatives, congregations and ministry practitioners may look to the voices of Scripture as guiding, challenging companions along the “divine and dusty” (as Bosch would say) journey of mission in today’s world.

According to 2 Kings 11, after the death of Ahaziah king of Judah, his mother Athaliah “lost all of the royal seed” (usually understood as murdering all members of the royal family – including her own grandchildren!), which, but for the heroic actions of one princess and one priest, would have been the end of the Davidic dynasty. She then ruled over Judah for six years, before being deposed and killed herself by the priest Jehoiada, who put the child Joash on the throne instead. Athaliah is often thought to have been a daughter of Ahab by Jezebel and a ardent worshipper of Baal, bent on subverting the Jerusalem Temple and court. The purpose of this paper is to offer a careful diachronic reading of the narrative in both 2 Kings 11 and in the parallel 2 Chr. 23-24 and to show that many of these claims are based on a biased interpretation of the text, and not on the information that it actually contains. Athaliah is seen as a desperate sole survivor of the Omride dynasty, trapped in a hostile Judah, whose guiding principle was not zealotry but self-survival.

This paper examines the socially productive role of ritual violence in ancient West Asian representations of the “foreign”. It focuses on Deuteronomistic “reform” literature and Neo-Assyrian royal inscriptions that depict rituals of domination and resistance in ways that blend, and distinguish between, foreign and native categories. It describes how these representations of strategic violence against “foreign” peoples and cults promote the absorption of “far” enemies and the expulsion of “near” enemies in contexts of imperial expansion and indigenous rivalry.

The last decade has seen a rapidly growing interest in the reception of (biblical) writings and the transformative impact transmission processes might have on the textual contents of these writings. Thus, micro and macro level changes of narrative contents, as well as the scribal and reader practices that produced them are finally receiving the attention they deserve. This paper will address another, related, aspect of the transformation that might take place when writings circulate which has still not attracted the same level of interest: circulation of writings not only leads to changes in textual contents, transmission processes may also lead to a re-identification of the writings themselves. In other words, narrative contents is not the only thing that changes - cultural perceptions of what a given text unit is may change too. Traces of these transformations are still available to us in the form of paratextual features in extant manuscripts. Inspired by the perspective of New Philology, and in order to discuss the relevance of studying paratextual features, I will explore the Syriac transmission of the so-called Epistle of Baruch. This epistle is known to most scholars as the final 10 chapters of 2 Baruch. 47 Syriac manuscripts contain a copy (complete or excerpted parts) of this epistle, and with one exception (a single Arabic codex), the Syriac tradition is the only manuscript tradition that preserves it. In contemporary scholarship these manuscript copies of the epistle are commonly applied as 'text witnesses' to the epistle attached to the apocalypse in 2 Baruch. However, a closer study of titles and postscript titles, as well as the location and contextualization of the epistle in Syriac codices show that while the textual contents of the epistle remains relatively stable, 46 of these 47 manuscripts identify the epistle with a different title, associate it with a different biblical figure, locate it in a different context of text units than the context of 2 Baruch, and suggest other contexts of cultural usages than the apocalypse. Is the epistle in these copies, then, the same or a different composition than the epistle attached to 2 Baruch, and how does this paratextual information challenge the default use of these copies as text witnesses to the epistle integral to 2 Baruch?

Marcion’s detractors condemned him for excising material to suit his theological principles, but also mocked him for failing to do so consistently. Recent defenders of the priority of his Gospel have tended to dismiss such charges, but explain ‘Lukan expansion’ on similar grounds. Can ‘theological tendency’ be used in discussing Lukan textual tradition without ending up in a self-fulfilling circle.

This paper will consider the role that genre plays in the scribal transmission of Ezekiel. Drawing on social theories of texts that have developed in Anglo-American editing, I will focus on the socio-literary significance of generic expectation and composition in scribal editing. Some attention to mystical literature, priestly hymns, heavenly ascents, and temple diagrams will demonstrate how comparative genre is an important competency for textual critics and textual editors of Ezekiel.

The paper rereads Romans 8:18-25 in an Asian American context, utilizing Sharon Welch’s feminist ethic of risk. Paying particular attention to the groaning and birth pangs of creation (Rom 8:22), I argue that nature and women as others invite me—as one who goes through the feminization of Asian American males in US society—to participate in their suffering in a mode of solidarity. Welch contrasts an ethic of control, in which men as moral agents are believed to resolve the troubles of nature and women, with an ethic of risk, in which men are vulnerable to the alterity of nature and women. That is to say that women and nature are others for whom men cannot speak, but from whom they can learn. An ethic of risk heeds the voices of those who suffer oppression, focusing on the “we” language of Romans 8:22. By listening to the suffering of nature and women, Asian American men can recognize that the lives of men, women, and nature are so closely interconnected that they are mutually responsible for each other. Thus, an ethic of risk calls for solidarity with the oppressed for the sake of liberation.

This paper will review and assess the state of the discussion about the historical dimensions of the Fourth Gospel at the end of the second stage of the John, Jesus and History project. It will do so by reflecting on issues raised in the essays and papers collected in the Group’s 2009 publication – John, Jesus and History, Volume 2: Aspects of Historicity in the Fourth Gospel.

Biblical scholars and theologians often deride Young Earth Creationism (YEC) as “bad theology” that represents an unsophisticated anti-modernist hermeneutic based on a simplistic doctrine of scriptural inerrancy. Consideration of YEC’s modern creation mythology often takes place in polemical contexts that accuses it of irresponsibly forcing the ancient biblical materials into a pseudoscientific straightjacket. Studies of YEC’s history and political agendas tend to take the phenomenon more seriously as an object of study in its own right. Some researchers note how YEC anti-modernist discourse builds on particular mythic notions of American identity (e.g., E. Caudill, 2014, on the cultural myths of the “Garden”, “Frontier”, “Progress”, and “Individualism”). These studies do not, however, examine in detail creationist hermeneutics and mythic constructs based on the Bible. I argue that YEC needs to be studied as a totalizing myth-making endeavor that embraces stories about origins and models of the universe developed from the intersection of Bible passages and appropriations of scientific concepts and language, along with myths about the Bible and of human religious, moral and intellectual history. This paper presents the variety of YEC cosmologies as part of a more expansive myth-making process through by which creationists continually create meaning through a “play” between various social, cosmic, and historical paradigms and models, including the place and nature of science as method of gaining knowledge of the divine and as a factor in society. My methodology develops from thinkers such as J. Z. Smith, Wendy Doniger, André Droogers, and Bruce Lincoln. YEC’s myths of origins center on Genesis and adapt various interpretations of such things as the “firmament” and the origins and fate of the waters of the deluge. There are also various accommodations of biblical creation passages outside of Genesis. These models are typically placed in the context of a Western Christian view of Original Sin and Salvation. In some cases, the nemesis of YEC, “evolution”, becomes a facet of human apostasy from the origins of human society, preceding Darwin by millennia, thus positing the modern debate as intrinsic to the nature of the fallen world. This paper also traces some aspects of the paradox creationists face in having to cast revelation in a “scientific” light to affirm its cultural relevance and inherent integrity, and of the inner YEC dynamics surrounding the multiple cosmological options. I argue that this opens up opportunities for “scientific” debate not dependent upon the approval of secular scientists, thus the disagreement leads to a strengthening of creationist identity.

Members of early Christian groups seem mostly to have entered and experienced marriage in ways that resembled their contemporaries. Under Roman law, a valid marriage had two requirements: the legal capacity to marry and the consent or intent of the parties—the husband and wife, and, unless they were legally independent of paternal authority, the father or other ascendant male of each family. In the second and early third century, however, a few authors suggest that church authority displaces familial or paternal consent to marry. Ignatius, bishop of Antioch, urges Polycarp, bishop of Smyrna: “It is proper for men and women who marry to make their union with the consent of the bishop, so that the marriage may be for the Lord and not for passion” (To Polycarp, 5.2c). Tertullian complains about “counselors” or “spiritual directors” who have recently allowed a Christian woman to marry a pagan (To His Wife, 2.2). He further refers to marriages declared valid by the divine Father, a validation analogous but superior to merely earthly paternal consent (2.8). As Ignatius and Tertullian subvert customary household authority to create new households, they invite analysis of their social ideals, rhetorical goals, and theological investments regarding consent to marriage.

Self-knowledge is a key theme in western esotericism. This paper compares self-knowledge in the letter to Theophrastos by Monoimos the Arab (2d-3d century CE) and the Hermetic corpus (CH). In both texts, knowledge of self amounts to knowledge of God because God is in the self. This understanding of the God within is radicalized by Monoimos. For him, God completely appropriates all features of the self, and effectively incarnates himself in all human selves. Seeking God in creation is discouraged (in striking opposition to CH). Although both CH and Monoimos share a Stoic and Platonic background, Monoimos develops a distinctly Christian esotericism. The true self is the Son of the Human, who is the suffering Jesus.

In its long history of interpretation, analysis of the New Testament through the lens of rhetoric only begins to take hold in the last two decades of the twentieth century. Hans Dieter Betz’s 1979 commentary on Galatians restarted this method of interpretation and it has grown considerably since then. In a world becoming more and more polarized by religious extremism from many quarters, a rhetorical perspective of the New Testament is more important now than ever before. A rhetorical reading starts with the understanding that texts are human and not divine constructions and that all statements are conditioned by particular situations, by culture and by its values. As Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza remarks, “If texts and discourse are studied without reference to human agency or socio-historical situation, then language and texts become a closed system that takes on the character of ‘scientific law.’” A rhetorical approach positions the interpreter at a necessary and critical distance from the text. Rhetorical-critical interpreters adopt what has been called a “hermeneutics of suspicion.” They actively ask the reasons why authors made particular statements and in particular ways. In so doing, rhetorical-critical interpreters take an active rather than passive, or worse, naïve approach to texts. Using examples from the letters of Paul, I indicate specific ways in which a reflective rhetorical-critical reading results in a rethinking of the text.

1 Clement is one of the most important witnesses to early Christian theology and moral thought. The paper seeks to explore some aspects of the moral thought (or the "ethics") of the text within the context of the philosophical tradition of the time, esp. Stoicism and the so-called popular philosophical tradition. Can the older idea of the "hellenization" of early Christianity be confirmed by a close reading of 1 Clement?

This essay examines the political and theological significance of two important images to which Hebrews consistently returns. First is Christ's "session;" he is seated at the right hand of God — he is enthroned as king. Second is his priesthood; he is a priest after the order of Melchizedek. These two images come together to form a "political theology" that offers the ethical imperative to "hold fast" and "endure." The juxtaposition of these two images in the "priest-king" renders intelligible the thirteen admonitions found in the closing chapter of Hebrews. For interspersed among these thirteen admonitions is a reminder of what the letter has accomplished — presenting the Priest-King who himself remains constant and sets forth an altar in a city that will be, like him, lasting. The political and ethical significance of Hebrews' presentation will be compared and contrasted to other ancient possibilities in order to bring its unique import into view.

The Qumran copies of the books of the Hebrew scriptures are typically classified according to pre-established textual categories centered around definitive medieval or reconstructed reference texts. In this paper, I will propose an alternative approach, which stresses close analysis of the textual overlaps between the Qumran scrolls to identify precise textual groups within the Qumran corpus without regard to external textual categories. I will then apply this approach to the Hebrew-language Dead Sea Scrolls containing Exodus as a test case. Utilizing a combination of qualitative and quantitative approaches to grouping manuscripts, I will demonstrate close relationships between at least eight Qumran manuscripts (4Q11 4Q14 4Q17 4Q20 4Q22 4Q158 4Q364 4Q365). These relationships can be delineated with sufficient specificity to allow for reconstructed textual history to serve as an additional criterion for evaluating the variant readings preserved in the texts of these manuscripts. I will also observe the close statistical clustering of several additional Qumran scrolls (1Q2 4Q1 4Q11 4Q18) and suggest a placement for one other manuscript (4Q13) in the history of the text of Exodus. These results show the great potential of such an approach to grouping fragmentary manuscripts. The proposed text-historical picture resulting from this study is clearer and more specific than has hitherto been possible and is in turn helpful for making particular text-critical decisions.

In Paul's world, poverty was an urban reality. In Paul's symbolic world, malignant forces were present realities. In Paul's convictional world, the body of Christ was an eschatological reality. This paper explores some of the interplay between these facets as they converge within Paul's theological discourse.

Most students of Syriac are generally unaware of the wide variety of punctuation and ‘accentuation’ marks present in Syriac biblical manuscripts, many of which predate comparable Hebrew Masoretic texts. This paper will provide an overview of the present state of research into the reception these dots after the fifth century. We will first look at how biblical commentators and glossators incorporated these marks, rightly or wrongly, in their interpretations of the Syriac Bible. Secondly, we will then propose ways that scholars can begin to preserve and better understand this traditional part of the Syriac heritage, while being honest with difficulties and ambiguities.

During the intense and imperially buoyed theological activity of 518-551 C.E., Basil of Caesarea’s Ep. 214.4.6-9 and Gregory of Nazianzus’ Ep. 101.18-12 became prominently utilized texts during the back and forth of miaphysite and pro-Chalcedonian authors. In pro-Chalcedonian attempts to validate the doctrinal legacy of the Council of Chalcedon and show its faithfulness to Cyril of Alexandria and other ecclesial luminaries, I argue that these texts served a foundational role for developing pro-Chalcedonian strategies. Ultimately, they served to shape a theological trajectory, which argued that the only way to faithfully interpret Cyril and preserve the Word as the subject of a real incarnation was to adhere to a consistent theological grammar for Trinity and the incarnation. Since Aloys Grillmeier’s foundational survey in Christ in Christian Tradition, the use of Trinitarian grammar for Christological issues has been assumed yet has remained remarkably unstudied or consistently shown as significant for this era. Recently, it has been deemed an invented strategy by one lone author. This study, by showing its foundational role in pro-Chalcedonian argumentation, will give closer attention to this development and show its reoccurring use across several significant figures.

Aphrodite was acknowledged by the Greeks as an oriental goddess, brought by Phoenicians to Cyprus and to Greece from Syria-Palestine, and indeed her cult was assimilated to that of Ashtart in Cyprus and in the Phoenician world. The absence of her name in the Mycenaean texts and the unclear etymology of her name have supported her origins in the Levantine world, but the linguistic evidence is elusive. The epithet of Aphrodite “Kythereia,” associated by the Greeks of historical times with the Aegean island of Kythera, is the most important clue for the Canaanite-Phoenician connection. Previous scholars have proposed the connection of the name with Kothar, the NWS craftsman god attested in Ugaritic and Phoenician texts, but the idea and its ramifications have never been fully explored. In this paper I will show that more can be said if we conduct a basic linguistic analysis of the Greek name Kythêreia and the different variants of Kothar’s name, attested diachronically (Ugaritic Kothar, Philon of Byblos’ Chousor, Syriac Kuthar). If Kythereia is indeed a Greek adaptation of a North-West Semitic female iteration of Kothar (“Ms. Kothar”), the name shows phonetic traits that imply an early and precise borrowing, mainly (but not only) before the change from long â to long ê was effective in Ionic Greek, so at the end of the second millennium. Hephaistos was indeed identified with Hephaestus in antiquity, which would explain the story in which Aphrodite is Hephaestus’ wife (Odyssey 8.266-366). The divine title (Kuthariya or the like), in time, would have been re-analyzed as Kythêreia and reinterpreted as related to the island of Kythera. //Finally, the North-West Semitic inflections of Aphrodite’s names and divine character are supported by her broader set of epithets and associations (Cypris, Ourania, “Heavenly,” etc.), cleverly intertwined narratively in Hesiod’s Theogony (187-206) and all pointing to the Phoenician realm. Hesiod’s efforts would show that by the eighth century, the Greek cosmogonists did not know what her names meant, even when they were clearly framing her as an Levantine goddess, supporting the early adaptation argued here.

Josephus is considered to highlight noble death wherever it is possible. In the retelling of the biblical events in the Jewish Antiquities he describes heroic deaths. But his reports about post-biblical events also trace the tradition of noble death. Pompeys conquest of the Jerusalem Temple 63 B.C and the death of Priests (B 1:148-150; A 14:65-70); Josephus description of the removal of the golden eagle from the temple roof through a group of young men and their execution (B 1:648-55; A 17: 156-64) and the collective suicide of the Jewish people at Massada during the war against Rome (B 7:389-406) are famous examples of noble death. The main question concerning these and other Paradigms is, what makes these deaths honorable. To accept one’s own death in order to follow the law bears a different connotation than accepting death to avoid captivity. By comparison of noble death Traditions in other Jewish and Pagan Literature this paper tries to give a differentiated answer to the question of what makes a death honorable or not. The second main focus refers to the function of the frequent noble death tradition within Josephus’ writings.

African Americans in general and African American women in particular have long appropriated the story of the biblical figure Hagar as their own. The story of the enslaved and exploited slave woman abandoned in the wilderness with her son, Ishmael and rescued by God resonated with the plight of Africans whose ancestors were enslaved and exploited in America. African Americans especially identified with Hagar because of her Egyptian ethnicity; they saw her both symbolically and racially as Black by modern racial constructs. In fact, most readers, Black and White, interpreted Hagar’s Egyptian ethnicity as Black or African. However, in an odd twist to her depiction, nineteenth century artistic and literary representations of Hagar by Whites portrayed Hagar as White. This paper will discuss some of the literary portrayals of Hagar by Southern White women novelists in the nineteenth century. I will review representations of the Hagar figure in novels by E.D.E.N. Southworth, Harriet Marion Stephens, Charlotte Moon Clark, and Mary Johnston. These proslavery women writers, confined in real life to Victorian era female propriety, lived out their fantasies of sexual and political freedom from patriarchal constraints through Hagar. Their novels feature Hagar, the heroine in the story as an ethnically ambiguous outcast or fallen woman, who crosses sexual and political boundaries of White society. The reader is not disturbed by this behavior because they know instinctively that Hagar is symbolically black when she does so and such behavior should be expected. Once her character is redeemed at the end of the story the racial ambiguity vanishes and she is again seen as White. Southern Black female writer Pauline Elizabeth Hawkins’s serial novel on Hagar sought to restore the white Hagar to blackness and her blackness to respectability.

One of the more fascinating, but under-discussed, narratives which appear in both the Jewish and Islamic Scripture concerns the story of Noah and the flood. Both the Bible (Gen. 6-9) and the Qur’an (11:25-48, 71:1-28, etc) relate that the people of the earth begin sinning egregiously against the Lord. In reaction, God decides to wipe out the earth’s inhabitants with a flood. In both cases, God chooses one man to survive this fate, a righteous man named Noah. And in both cases, Noah is instructed to build an ark in order to save himself, his family, and pairs of animals needed in order to repopulate the earth. And indeed, so it happens in both the Qur’an and the Bible. At first glance, these two narratives appear to present the same story, with a similar message. After all, in both texts sinners are destroyed by flooding while the righteous are saved by floating. Indeed, both texts refer to the hero by the same name: Noah in the Bible and Nuh in the Qur’an. And in both cases, the hero saves not only his family from drowning but the earth’s animals as well and, famously, “two by two.” Thus, the account of Noah and the flood has often been cited as continuing proof of “obvious” and rather straightforward Qur’anic reliance on the Bible. Yet, while the similarities between these two texts are indisputable, there are important differences, distinctions that are not to be glossed over and which indicate that the Qur’anic use of the Biblical material is not quite so straightforward. Most notably, the Qur’anic account (ch. 11) speaks of a son of Nuh who tries to outrun the flood rather than believe in Allah and ultimately drowns for his disbelief. The Qur’an (66:10) also refers to Nuh’s wife as a disbeliever whose unfaithfulness led her to Hell. Significantly, both characters are wholly absent from the Bible and rabbinic tradition. On the other hand, the Biblical dove, that most famous symbol of peace, who locates an olive branch and thereby indicates to a relieved Noah that the flood has ended makes no appearance in the Qur’an or later Muslim traditions. The presence or absence of each of these is not a random decorative item; as this paper will show, each holds particular significance for the message of the text in which it appears. However, the interactions between the Qur’anic and Biblical traditions on the flood narrative do not end in the Qur’anic period. The Qur’anic tradition not only inherited but bequeathed. As I will show, a medieval Jewish exegetical text known as Midrash Yonah appears to reflect some of the Qur’an’s themes. Namely, like the Qur’an, the midrash relates that the Biblical Noah too had a child, a daughter, who refused to get on the ark. Unlike her Qur’anic counterpart however, she was not only saved but turned into the famous dove that helped her father. This paper will analyze these various elements of the Noah story and will ask: [ABSTRACT TRUNCATED]

In the fifth chapter of Violence and Belief in Late Antiquity, Thomas Sizgorich explored the ways in which the early Islamic umma shared in the late ancient practice of ascetic, militant piety as a means of communal boundary marking. Pointing to precursors for Islamic mujahidun, he offers a brief, tantalizing description of al-Tabari’s narration of the introduction of Christianity to Najran. This paper offers a closer reading and contextualizing of this story of conversion and its boundary marking through violence and threats of violence. As found in al-Tabari’s Tarikh al-Rusul wa al-Muluk, Christianity is brought to Najran by two male ascetics, Faymiyun and Salih. The story, as well as the larger history of Yemen and the Himyarite kingdom in which it is situated, is filled with abduction, threats, and murder, all which point to contested boundaries both religious (Jewish and Christian) and geopolitical (Himyarite and Abbysinian). The details of the story emerge with more texture when read alongside an alternate version of the story. The History of the Great Deeds of Bishop Paul of Qentos and Priest John of Edessa, a sixth-century Syriac hagiography of two ascetics, has been recognized as containing an earlier version of al-Tabari’s tale. Juxtaposition of the two texts indicates that both the names of the two main characters as well as interpretations of details within the narratives change. Such variations appear as more than mere accident. For, as Sizgorich’s work has taught us to be attentive to, the ways in which violence is framed and portrayed in these details does the crucial work of delineating communal boundaries. Likely composed in the bilingual, imperial borderland of Edessa, The History negotiates among competing Christian communities claims to having founded Christianity among the Himyarites and more generally for claim to the title of “orthodox,” which could also carry with it geopolitical implications. The same narrative, refracted several centuries later through al-Tabari’s rendering of earlier historians’s works, reframes the story. For al-Tabari, the histories of Judaism and Christianity in Yemen (especially including the role of Faymiyun) serve to prepare for the arrival of Islam. Especially in his reimagining of moments of violence (or potential violence), al-Tabari shifts communal boundaries, subtly inserting Islamic meaning in order to make space for an Islamic communal identity.

As a wandering proclaimer of a foreign deity, Paul bore many affinities to other “Eastern” cultic practitioners, such as preachers of Dionysus. While the gendered and sexualized implications of Paul’s foreignness are sporadically explicit in his letters, they manifest themselves when read in the context of ancient expectations of traveling prophets. Paul and the Euripidean picture of an effeminate Dionysus, for example, can be juxtaposed to revealing effect. Thus, passages like Paul’s triumphal epiphany (2 Cor 2:14-17) reveal more than just the unseen divinity Paul proclaims. Paul’s self-portrayal as Dionysian simultaneously orients his identity with respect to gender, sexuality, poverty, and empire to give a glimpse of a future, potential community. In dialogue with the work José Esteban Muñoz, Judith Halberstam, and Sarah Jane Cervenak (and building on earlier work of the author), the paper explores how Paul’s “disidentification” as Dionysian herald unsettles imperial preconceptions about gender and foreignness and, thus, unsettles identity under empire, itself. As Paul calls attention to his wandering, impoverished lifestyle, those in Corinth who took offense at Paul could undermine his focus on regulating sexual behavior by evoking stereotypes about the sexual proclivities of itinerant, Eastern preachers. Paul responds with an image of triumph that simultaneously draws upon images of wandering prophets and conquering emperors. Such rhetorical simultaneity uproots imperial logics by questioning imperial time itself in a way that mirrors Paul’s seemingly wandering itinerary. While 1 Corinthians addresses sequentially the relatively privileged positions of “the Strong,” the imagery of 2 Corinthians addressees intersecting value systems through a wandering rhetoric of apostolic images. Explorations (from Muñoz to Cervenak) of the ways in which intersectional (queer and/or otherwise) identities navigate and displace normative identity systems provide sign posts for following Paul’s peregrinations. Paul’s overlapping minoritarian positions and the local groups formed in their image recast and point away from normative forms of sociality to indicate a future, unseen community, resulting in a notion of epiphany cast as futurity, variously depicted in 2 Cor 3-5. Finally, the paper indicates how attention (or lack thereof) to gendered and sexualized implications in Pauline language within New Testament studies falls into the trap of later Pauline strategies of centering the Apostle (and, thus, his later interpreters) within his global landscape. Majoritarian exegetes should instead take the place of “the Strong“ in Corinth as unsettled spectators to Paul’s queer, traveling performance.

How many Christians lived in the ancient Egyptian city of Oxyrhynchus in the third and fourth centuries? The numerous papyri found at Oxyrhynchus have contributed significantly to our understanding of everyday lives and reading practices, in general and also of all sorts of Christians. Using insights from studies in ancient demography and onomastics, I addresses in this paper the question of the size of the Christian population at Oxyrhynchus and the challenges the scholar encounters in making such calculations. In the end, I discuss the implications of my findings for how we understand the documentary and literary papyri pertaining to Christians.

After dealing with the definition of “anti-Judaism” and “anti-Judeanism,” the paper discusses anti-Judaism in Early Christian apocryphal gospels by focusing on the Gospel of Peter and the Acts of Pilate (the Gospel of Nicodemus 1-16). In addition, the paper also analyzes a fragment related to Jesus’ trial in the gospel that was used by the Nazarenes (Jerome, Comm. Matt. 27.16). The paper analyzes anti-Judaism by paying attention to different types and degrees of criticism (slightly modifying Terence Donaldson’s approach in Jews and Anti-Judaism in the New Testament: Decision Points and Divergent Interpretations. Waco: Baylor University Press, 2010): (1) Prophetic critique, (2) Sectarian critique and (3) ‘Gentilizing anti-Judaism’ that is the only totally anti-Jewish category of the three. The paper argues that although the Nazarenes still seem to have hoped for the conversion of the ‘sons of Israel’, their critique deserves the label anti-Judaism. The Gospel of Peter is also clearly anti-Jewish and so are also the first eleven chapters of the Acts of Pilate. In Gos. Pet. the Jews are not just made to take responsibility for the conviction of Jesus by choosing Barabbas as in the canonical gospels; they have also become guilty of “deicide” by executing “the Lord.” The final chapters of Acts Pil. (chapters 12-16) are more mixed in their attitude toward Judaism and therefore exemplify sectarian critique. Furthermore, the paper suggests that since the anti-Judaism of Gos. Pet. and Acts Pil. seems to be combined with a low Christology which does not presume virginal conception, it is likely that the traditions behind Gos. Pet. and Acts Pil. were originally composed by a faction of Ebionites who were ‘anti-Judean’ — in the geographical sense of the word. Epiphanius’ description of the Ebionites suggests that the movement may partly have been influenced by Samaritan critique of the ‘Judeans’ (see Luomanen 2012, 47-48, 161-65). Thus, the Christian anti-Judaism as we now have it in Gos. Pet. and Acts Pil. could have developed from an earlier Ebionite anti-Judeanism.

Few Westerners have had their lives as circumscribed by one biblical text as have the Deaf community. Ironically, through Mark 7.32-37—Jesus’s only healing of a deaf and speech-impeded(?) man—‘liberation’ has usually been imposed through the crushing dominance of a particularly hearing space. For the hearing, Revelation’s “silence in heaven” (8.1) is a passing interlude before all—including the Deaf who have never spoken—fill the spaces of eternity with noisome praise: “Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God the Almighty….” (Rev. 4.8). Such a ubiquitous ideology of temporariness cannot but have impacted everyday life. In 1870, for example, as the foundation stone for the first purpose-built church for the “deaf and dumb” in Great Britain was being laid in London, the Jesus for whom the church was named—“St Saviour’s”—was being introduced as the only person who had ever healed a “deaf-mute”, something no prayer or science could replicate. Instead a Jesus-lite cultural healing in which“deaf-mutes” would find their place in society was on offer. Under the practitioners of the ‘Oralist method’ endorsed by the 1880 Milan Congress, this would result in the destruction of sign language and any cultural spaces that it had generated and in an assimilation into society so complete that their deafness would become invisible, a reflection of their heavenly future. Utilising Henri Lefebvre’s notion of space as produced, this paper will examine counter-responses to this hegemonic construction, up to and including ones in which resurgent Deaf spaces define their own salvific norms, their own Jesuses, developing their own conciliatory response to the traditional Jesus who has long-sought to destroy them. In the end, it is not that Christ will save the Deaf, but rather that the Deaf may be willing to save Christ. Communication through sounds in a Hearing-space heaven may in fact be replaced by a visually rich and eternal Deaf-space of (silent) communication through signs.

It is widely acknowledged that post-New Testament Christian traditions have melded into one figure, Mary Magdalene, the identities and descriptions of several women. It is less commonly known that the reverse scenario can be found in the writings of Eusebius. Instead of conflating several female figures into one, Eusebius suggests that there may two Mary Magdalenes in Mark. This unusual proposition is found in a series of questions and answers, the former posed by a Christian interlocutor, Marinus, and the latter answered by Eusebius of Caesarea, Quaestiones ad Marinum (early 4th C.). This ancient genre, Erotapokriseis, represents a type of apologetics aimed, most likely, toward an audience of educated believers rather than skeptics. In the sequence of questions, a real or imagined interlocutor has noticed in his or her reading of a Gospel an element she or he finds incompatible with another Gospel’s witness on the matter. The author provides answers to the queries, taking the position as a knowledgeable authority. In this instance, Eusebius addresses each question and offers an answer or, sometimes, several potential solutions to the questioner. Eusebius’s Quaestiones ad Marinum is more famous for its testimony to another aspect of Mark: the variety of ways in which the Second Gospel concludes. Eusebius’s first answer to Marinus constitutes the earliest reference by an ancient scholar to the absence of Mark 16:9-20 in known copies of Mark. Because passages concerning the death and resurrection of Jesus were lightning rods for disagreement and external critique, it is unsurprising that passages that feature these subjects (e.g., Mark 16:9-20) would be the subject of scrutiny. What remains largely unnoticed in scholarly studies, to date, is that correspondence between texts in which women feature prominently and those about which Marinus, the real or imaginary interlocutor raises questions. The timing, identity, and descriptions of Mary Magdalene, along with other women in the Gospel endings are the subjects of significant scrutiny in the ad Marinum. Of Marinus’s four overarching questions that Eusebius addresses regarding the Gospels’ resurrection accounts, all four of them come from verses and pericopes featuring women. Only the first inquiry lacks the name “Mary Magdalene” in the question’s wording itself; nonetheless, the verses in question involve her explicitly (Matt 28:1; Mark 16:1-2, 9) and, thus, the answer mentions her frequently. My paper attends to Eusebius’s multiple Mary-focused answers. My argument is that the doubling of the Mary Magdalenes and the rest of Eusebius’s focus on Mary and her fellow female disciples is not evidence of a latent proto-feminist impulse. Rather, the crux of the interest Eusebius demonstrates is, firstly, to demonstrate the reliability and agreement of the evangelists’ witness. Doing so involves validating women’s testimony, regardless of source. Eusebius is committed to the reliability of the women’s testimony to Jesus’ resurrection and will argue it by any means necessary … even if it means doubling the Mary Magdalenes present.

Abstract: In several publications, most recently in The Gospels and Homer: Imitations of Greek Epic in Mark and Luke-Acts (2014), Dennis MacDonald has argued that Mark's powerful Passion Narrative was composed almost exclusively by imitating Homer's famous account of the death of Hector and Priam's rescue of the body of his son. My paper for the Annual Meeting summarizes the arguments and shows that several Byzantine authors noted the similarities between the deaths of Jesus and Hector and independently imitated the ending of the Iliad.

Multispectral Imaging of damaged papyri has produced an ample of number of virtually new texts in the first years of the current millennium. The coverage of the Herculaneum Papyri has achieved completeness with every opened fragment (except one papyrus only) now advanced in legibility by virtue of the technological intervention. Less known is the multispectral imaging project that has made available hundreds of papyri in American collections — Columbia University, the University of Michigan, and the Tebtunis Papyri at the University of California — available for public accessibility through an NEH Preservation and Access Grant (2009-2012). While the completion of past projects has provided scholars with abundant opportunities to improve readings of misunderstood and formerly illegible texts, further new initiatives afoot in 2015 will open several vistas even more broadly. In a 20-minute presentation, I will demonstrate the depth of the NEH-funded database of newly legible papyri. Further, I will outline distinct opportunities for expanding the legibility of less discrete papyrological texts housed in Provo, London, Cairo, Cologne, Geneva, and elsewhere. In a paper delivered at the 2014 SBL-San Diego I presented new readings in a singular palimpsest codex owned by several institutions around the world. The Atlanta meeting will allow time to update that progress and introduce new problems — and solutions — encountered in imaging projects scheduled for the Spring of 2015. Even incremental gains in legibility of the Herculaneum Papyri, are abundant. This collection has benefited enormously from the application of MSI and will receive renewed attention in a new to be undertaken later this year. The Ancient Textual Imaging Group at Brigham Young University is a non-profit organization that is interested in enhancing through specialized digital imaging technology the study of papyrus texts from the classical world. Papyrus substrates overwritten with carbon-based ink have been shown to respond especially well to MSI. Darkening through chemical or thermal change normally reduces the text’s legibility in a way that can be reversed most readily by the non-destructive application of MSI.