Tag Archives: Judaism

Humphrey, ed., The Roman and Byzantine Near East, vol. 2 (1999)

H. Humphrey, ed., The Roman and Byzantine Near East: Some Recent Archaeological Research, vol. 2 (1999)

1. Elise A. Friedland, “Graeco-Roman Sculpture in the Levant: The Marbles from the Sanctuary of Pan at Caesarea Philippi (Banias)”: Marble statues are foreign to the Levant; most Levantine sculpture is made of limestone or basalt, and the foreign-style statues represent “the varying degree of assimilation to and/or adoption of mainstream Graeco-Roman culture from province to province and site to site” (8). The Banias marbles were most likely carved in western Anatolia and then brought to Banias. They were not part of a single installation; rather, they were installed over time, as donors provided funds, thus attesting to a trade route linking Anatolia and Banias and the Hellenization at Banias.

2. Zeev Weiss, “Adopting a Novelty: The Jews and Roman Games in Palestine”: More than 30 theaters probably existed in Roman and Byzantine Palestine. Entertainment there consisted mostly of mime and pantomime performances. Hippodromes first appeared in the Herodian period, but most were built in the 2nd and 3rd centuries. The hippodromes housed games in honor of Caesar and local deities, chariot racing, combat sports (“wrestling, boxing, and pankration (a combination of the two)” [38]). Games typically involved foot races, jumping, discus, javelin, and the pentathlon. Amphitheaters were first built in the 2nd and 3rd centuries. They housed gladiatorial games. The rabbis condemned games and spectacles and the buildings where they took place. However, the rabbis represent the minority view; based on archaeological and textual evidence, “it is clear that Jews did frequent games and spectacles from the 2nd c. onwards” (44).

3. Stephen Tracy, “The Dedicatory Inscription to Trajan at the ‘Metropolis’ of Petra”: A new edition of the inscription to Trajan at Petra, accompanied by an epigraphical commentary. It named Petra a metropolis, making Petra “the titular first city of the province” (56) and showing how important Syria and Arabia were to Trajan.

4. Leah Di Segni, Gideon Foerster, and Yoram Tsafrir, “The Basilica and an Altar to Dionysos at Nysa-Scythopolis”: The basilica was one of the first buildings in the settlement in the Naḥal ‘Amal valley, which began in the late 1st century BCE or 1st century CE. The altar is a portable “polygonal monolithic block altar” (69); it has six sides, three of which bear the face of a deity. It also carries an inscription dated to 141/2 CE, showing that the altar was a votive offering to Dionysus, the patron god of Scythopolis. The top of the altar was subsequently broken away and the base was used as a statue by Christians in Late Antique Scythopolis.

5. David Kennedy, “Greek, Roman and Native Cultures in the Roman Near East”: A review of Fergus Millar, The Roman Near East 31 BC – AD 337 (1993).

6. Garth Fowden, “’Desert Kites’: Ethnography, Archaeology, and Art”: The “desert kites” here are maṣāyid (sg. miṣyada), large stone traps that the Syrian Bedouin used to hunt gazelles. Similar structures first entered use around the 7th millennium BCE. A Safaitic inscription, dating to the 1st century BCE or 1st century CE, shows one in use. An 8th-century CE fresco from Quṣayr ‘Amra (located near a large group of maṣāyid) also shows a similar scene.

7. Zvi Uri Ma’oz, “The Synagogue at Capernaum: A Radical Solution”: The Capernaum synagogue, which is lavishly decorated and built of imported stone, does not fit its first-century context, which was a poor part of town. Instead, it is possible that the synagogue was purpose-built near Peter’s house in the 5th century, as a pilgrimage site, using stone imported from synagogues elsewhere in Galilee.

8. Leah Di Segni, “Epigraphic Documentation on Building in the Provinces of Palaestina and Arabia, 4th-7th c.”: Lists different building projects attested epigraphically for Late Antique Palestine and Arabia:

  • Sacred buildings
  • Defensive works and forts
  • Public inns and burgi (guarded roadhouses)
  • Fortifications in cities
  • Baths
  • Waterworks
  • Stoas and piazzas
  • Civil basilicas

9. Benjamin Isaac, “Inscriptions and Religious Identity on the Golan”: A review of Robert C. Gregg and Dan Urman, Jews, Pagans and Christians in the Golan Heights: Greek and Other Inscriptions of the Roman and Byzantine Eras (1996).

10. Jodi Magness, “Redating the Forts at Ein Boqeq, Upper Zohar, and other sites in SE Judaea, and the Implications for the Nature of the Limes Palaestinae”: Based on pottery finds and coins, “the forts at Upper Zohar and Ein Boqeq were constructed and initially occupied around the middle of the 6th c.” (198), not the 4th or 5th. The structures on the east side of Mount Hebron date from the 1st century BCE–2nd century CE. The 4th-century limes, then, was an administrative area, not a fortified border.

11. Mark Whittow, “Rome and the Jafnids: Writing the History of a 6th-c. Tribal Dynasty”: A review of Irfan Shahīd, Byzantium and the Arabs in the Sixth Century, vol. 1, parts 1 and 2 (1995).

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Stroumsa, The End of Sacrifice (2009)

Guy G. Stroumsa, The End of Sacrifice: Religious Transformations in Late Antiquity (trans. Susan Emanuel; 2009).

Thesis: The religious landscape of Late Antiquity represented a radical change from the eras prior to it.

Chapter 1, “A New Care of the Self,” argues that the anthropological shifts in Late Antiquity had their basis in religious practices. The main religious change of Late Antiquity, of course, was the high status that Christianity attained. However, “it is with Jewish weapons”—like communal asceticism, conversion as repentance (metanoia) rather than a returning (epistrophe), and the prophet as the ideal person—“that Christianity conquered the Roman Empire” (11). Late Antique Judaism adapted the prophetic ideal into the figure of the sage, who occupies him/herself with studying Torah, while Christianity turned the prophet into the saint, the holy man who confronts the bishop from the margins of society, the same way that the biblical prophets confronted the priests. Moreover, Christianity made holiness, achieved through ascesis, available to everyone (unlike in pagan culture, where spiritual greatness was reserved for philosophers and other “intellectual elites” [25]).

Chapter 2, “The Rise of the Religions of the Book,” tracks how Late Antique religions developed their understandings of sacred texts. Stroumsa begins with Judaism, which developed a rich textual tradition during the Second-Temple period, but by Late Antiquity held the Torah as the only truly sacred book (supplemented by oral traditions). Next, he discusses the Quranic category of “people of the book” (ahl al-kitāb), noting that, in Quranic usage, the “Book” (kitāb) is an oral text related to heavenly revelation, independent of the codex (musḥaf). This concept was also already present in Manichaeism, which contained a strong theology of the book. Early Christians also were deeply devoted to sacred texts, almost all of which were codices (rather than scrolls, the dominant form of the book when Christianity developed). Codices were inexpensive and portable—qualities which allowed Christians to disseminate information quickly. The early Christians used Jewish sacred texts (i.e., the Septuagint), and they readily acknowledged the Jewishness of those scriptures (to the point of sparing Jewish books whenever they razed synagogues). Christians, of course, also developed their own canon (the New Testament), the core of which was finalized in the 180s, around the same time that the Mishnah was completed. Early Christianity, like Second-Temple Judaism, saw a proliferation of sacred texts. By Late Antiquity, however, Christianity—again like its contemporary Judaism—devoted itself to the study of a small selection of sacred literature (canonized, by that point, as the Bible).

Chapter 3, “Transformations of Ritual,” shows how Late Antiquity marked a turning point in religious practices. Before the second century (where Stroumsa idiosyncratically places the beginning of Late Antiquity), Mediterranean religious practice centered on blood sacrifice. With the destruction of the Jewish Temple in 70 CE, Jewish worship became spiritualized and democratized, focusing on prayer and Torah study—which could be done anywhere, not just Jerusalem. By the rabbinic period, (elite) Jewish practice revolved around halakha, much in the same way contemporaneous elite Christian practice focused on askēsis. In contrast to post-70 Judaism, early Christianity defined itself as a sacrificial religion; however, it emphasized that only one sacrifice (Jesus’) was necessary to appease God, and that sacrifice was re-enacted in the Eucharist and in martyrdom. At the end of the chapter, Stroumsa includes two interesting asides: 1) the Docetic crucifixion story, where Christ laughs from Heaven while his stand-in is crucified, can be seen as a Christian reworking of the Akedah, and 2) Philo—a contemporary of Paul’s—argues that Isaac (the Jewish sacrificial hero par excellence, like Jesus was for the Christians) was the son of God, who miraculously made Sarah a virgin before she conceived Isaac.

Chapter 4, “From Civic Religion to Community Religion”: Before Late Antiquity, religion resided in the public domain; it required correct performance of rituals but did not require adherence to a certain set of beliefs, and the rituals were performed in public by all the residents of a city, or at least their representatives. After the Christianization of the Roman Empire, however, and the subsequent interiorization of religion, it moved out of the public sphere and into the realm of individual groups. At the same time, religious groups began to require orthodoxy rather than orthopraxy. Stroumsa also treats inter-religious violence in this chapter, focusing on Christian anti-paganism and anti-Semitism (which developed out of a purely theological anti-Judaism in the fourth century), showing that the end of religious (pagan) pluralism led to these polemics.

Chapter 5, “From Wisdom Teacher to Spiritual Master,” compares pagan philosophy with Christian spirituality (which Stroumsa himself acknowledges as an artificial distinction). Stroumsa argues that Greek and Roman priests were not spiritual leaders, whereas Christian priests, like their Jewish predecessors, played such a role. Christian spiritual formation thus represents a “rupture with the past” (116). Pagan philosophical instruction took place among elites, who had the leisure to contemplate the good life, which Christian spiritual leaders evangelized members of all levels of society. By Late Antiquity, “the spiritual director is less a sage than a saint” (125)—that is, the spiritual master’s teachings do not bring wisdom, but abolish independent thought, thereby saving the disciple.

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Nickelsburg, Jewish Literature between the Bible and the Mishnah, 2nd ed. (2005)

George W. E. Nickelsburg, Jewish Literature between the Bible and the Mishnah: A Historical and Literary Introduction (2nd ed.)

This book is a textbook on (mostly) non-canonical Jewish writings from the Hellenistic and Roman periods (i.e., the apocrypha, pseudepigrapha, and the DSS). The Introduction sets forth his interpretive paradigm (he wants to explicate the texts’ internal stories and logic) and contains a brief overview of the problems with the terms apocrypha and pseudepigrapha. The Prologue is a brief overview of Israelite and Judahite history from the sack of Samaria under Shalmaneser V in 722 BCE and the sack of Jerusalem in 586, through Cyrus’ decree in 538, the return from exile, and the establishment of the Jewish diaspora.

Chapter 1, “Tales of the Dispersion,” covers texts written by Jews in the Babylonian and Assyrian diaspora. It includes Daniel 1-6, the additions to Daniel (Susanna, Bel and the Dragon, and the Prayer of Azariah and the Song of the Three Young Men), 1 Esdras 3-4 (the Story of Darius’ Bodyguards), Tobit, and the Epistle of Jeremiah.

Chapter 2, “Palestine in the Wake of Alexander the Great,” gives a summary of the foreign powers who ruled over Palestine from the Persian period through the Hellenistic period. The chapter then examines the Book of the Heavenly Luminaries (1 Enoch 72-82), the Book of the Watchers (1 Enoch 1-36), and Sirach. This chapter also discusses apocalypticism in 1 Enoch.

Chapter 3, “Reform—Repression—Revolt,” summarizes the events in Palestine from 198 BCE (when Antiochus III defeated the Ptolemies) through the end of the Hasmonean revolt against Antiochus IV Epiphanes in 164. In his survey of texts from the period, Nickelsburg discusses the apocalyptic responses to Antiochus IV and the war in Palestine: Jubilees, the Testament of Moses, Daniel 7-12, and 1 Enoch 83-90 (the Animal Vision).

Chapter 4, “The Hasmoneans and Their Opponents,” covers the rulership of the Hasmonean period and the Hasmoneans’ relations with the Seleucids and Romans. The texts from this period are Baruch, Judith, 1-2 Maccabees, and the Epistle of Enoch (1 Enoch 92-105). Nickelsburg also outlines the literary development of 1 Enoch as it stands today.

Chapter 5, “The People at Qumran and Their Predecessors,” covers the major works among the Dead Sea Scrolls, including the Damascus Document; the pesharim to Habakkuk, Psalms, Nahum, and Isaiah; “three thematic exegetical texts” (132), viz. 1QFlorilegium, 11QMelchizedek, and 4QTestimonia; the Thanksgiving Hymns (1QHab and 4QH); the Community Rule; the War Scroll; 4QMMT; the Rule of the Congregation (1QSa); the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice; the Temple Scroll; Aramaic Levi; the non-canonical psalms in 11QPsa; 4QInstruction; the Genesis Apocryphon; and The New Jerusalem. This chapter is by far the longest in the book.

Chapter 6, “Israel in Egypt,” starts with a brief discussion of the Jewish Diaspora in Egypt, then covers the major Jewish texts from Hellenistic Egypt: the LXX, book 3 of the Sibylline Oracles, the Letter of Aristeas, 3 Maccabees, the Additions to Esther, Wisdom of Solomon, Philo’s writings, and 2 Enoch.

Chapter 7, “The Romans and the House of Herod,” gives a significant amount of space to the leadership of Judea under Roman rule, namely Herod the Great and his heirs. The texts from this period are the Psalms of Solomon, the revisions of the Testament of Moses, 1 Enoch 37-71 (the Similitudes of Enoch), and 4 Maccabees.

Chapter 8, “Revolt—Destruction—Reconstruction,” deals with the period between the death of Herod Agrippa I (44 CE) and the end of the Jewish War in 70 CE. Reactions to the events of 70 are the Book of Biblical Antiquities (Pseudo-Philo) and the apocalypses 4 Ezra, 2 Baruch, and the Apocalypse of Abraham. The chapter also covers the life and writings of Josephus.

Chapter 9, “Texts of Disputed Provenance,” examines the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, the Testament of Job, the Testament of Abraham, the Greek and Latin Lives of Adam and Eve, Joseph and Aseneth, and the Prayer of Manasseh. Each of these text have only been preserved in Christian editions, and so it is difficult to date them and to determine which parts of the texts are Christian in origin and which are Jewish.

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Review of Nongbri, Before Religion

My thanks to Yale University Press for sending me a copy of Brent Nongbri’s new book, Before Religion: A History of a Modern Concept (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2013). My thanks also to Dr. Nongbri, who graciously cleared up a few points of confusion before this review was published.

Brent Nongbri’s Before Religion: A History of a Modern Concept is a book-length word study of the word “religion” and its classical counterparts, in which he seeks to provide “a (not the) history of that concept [i.e., the concept of religion], drawing together the results of diverse fields of research to show, first and foremost, that religion does indeed have a history: it is not a native category to ancient cultures” (7; emphasis original).

In chapter 1, Nongbri begins his study by defining what he means by “religion.” He surveys different scholars’ attempts to define “religion” and finds the assumptions behind those definitions lacking: “There are certain ‘things’ that people in the modern world are conditioned to regard as ‘religion,’ and attempts at definition are always subject to that impulse to be consistent with everyday speech” (17). Therefore, Nongbri takes a pragmatic approach and defines “religion” to match this modern, Western intuition: “religion is anything that sufficiently resembles modern Protestant Christianity” (18)—or, less provocatively, “what most modern people appear to mean by religion is a kind of inner sentiment or personal faith ideally isolated from secular concerns” (8). Nongbri notes that he does not think this sort of definition is a good one, merely that it is the popular one (18, discussing a quote from Karen Armstrong), and it is this popular notion of religion that he wishes to argue against. The remainder of this chapter is a preliminary historical survey of the usage of the terms “religion,” “religions,” and “World Religions,” along with a brief discussion of why Nongbri finds those categories to be problematic.

In chapter 2, Nongbri surveys three classical languages—Latin, Greek, and Arabic—and discusses terms in each of these languages that are frequently translated into English as “religion”: Latin religio, Greek thrēskeia, and Arabic dīn, milla, and umma. Throughout the chapter, Nongbri highlights that these five classical words, though they are often translated as “religion,” do not mean what moderns mean by “religion.” He spends the most time discussing religio, and for obvious reason: it is the source of the English word “religion,” and he covers nearly two millennia of uses. Surveying a multitude of Latin sources, both pagan and Christian, from the second century BCE to the seventeenth century CE, Nongbri traces the development of religio from its original Roman sense of “scruples” (for example, in Plautus and Terence) to its modern definition as an “inward persuasion of the mind” (34, translating Locke), noting the range of meanings the term held in between the two endpoints. Curiously, Nongbri does not incorporate James B. Rives’ Religion in the Roman Empire either in this section or elsewhere in the book. One would imagine that incorporating Rives would only serve to further nuance his argument.

Nongbri spends substantially less time tracking the development of thrēskeia, the Greek word that, like religio, is often translated as “religion.” He tracks the development of the term from classical Greek (namely, Herodotus), where thrēskeia carries the sense of “rituals,” through the heyday of the Byzantine Empire in the 11th century (namely, the Greek version of Barlaam and Ioasaph), where it maintains the same sense. Lastly, Nongbri explores the sense of the Arabic words dīn (“custom, usage, judgment, direction, retribution” [41]), milla (“law or sect” [44]), and umma (“customs, traditions, and values” [44, quoting Denny]) in their Quranic context.

In chapter 3, Nongbri explores four historical cases that modern interpreters have seen as the beginning of a religious-secular divide: the Maccabean revolt, as interpreted by scholars like William Cantwell Smith; Cicero’s On Divination and On the Nature of the Gods, as interpreted by Mary Beard; Eusebius’ Preparatio evangelica and Demonstratio evangelica, as interpreted by Daniel Boyarin; and early Islam, as interpreted by Bernard Lewis. With regard to the Maccabees, Nongbri contrasts Smith’s argument—that the Greek term ioudaismos should be translated as “Judaism”—with arguments like those of Shaye J. D. Cohen and Steve Mason, who argue that ioudaismos refers to Judean customs, rather than a religion called “Judaism.” In discussing Cicero, Nongbri agrees with Beard that “something new is going on here with Cicero and his contemporaries” (53), but critiques her description of this new thing as “religion,” since it does not match the modern conception of religion. With Eusebius, Nongbri discusses how Eusebius’ use of christanismos parallels the Maccabean use of ioudaismos, such that christianismos refers to a set of customs practiced by an ethnicity (in this case, the christianoi). Finally, Nongbri critiques Lewis’s idea that early Islam saw itself as a new religion among other religions; instead, he argues, following Fred M. Donner, early Islam saw itself not as a new religion, but as standing in continuity with prior traditions.

Chapter 4 discusses Christianity’s relationship with three “others”—Mani and Manichaeism, early Islam, and the Buddha—which Christians saw as heretical Christian figures or beliefs, rather than as separate religions or religious figures. Mani and his followers, Nongbri argues, did not see themselves as founding a new religion, but rather saw themselves as Christians, and were engaged in polemics with orthodox Christianity: “in some ways, [the Manichaeans] were the mirror image of the orthodox Christians who persecuted them. That is to say, Manichaeans viewed themselves as Christians, and they saw ‘orthodox’ Christians as inferior, or we might even say ‘heretical’” (71). Likewise, John of Damascus, in his Peri haireseōn, lists Muhammad and his followers as heretics; he claims that Muhammad was instructed by an Arian monk, then founded a hairesis, which his people accepted as divine. Finally, Nongbri discusses how the story of Barlaam and Ioasaph is a Christianized version of the Buddha’s biography, and that Christians canonized the Buddha under the name of Ioasaph—implying that the Christians did not see Buddhism as a separate religion, but as an extension of their own.

Chapter 5 skips ahead several hundred years, to the 16th and 17th centuries. Nongbri first surveys the use of christiana religio in early Christian authors (like Augustine and Lactantius), then moves forward to the Renaissance and then the Reformation, where he examines the use of prisca theologia—Ancient Theology; that is, Christian theology found among pre-Christian authors—and christiana religio in the sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Italian Neo-Platonists (like Marsilio Ficino and Giordano Bruno). He finds that the Italian Neo-Platonists conceived of the christiana religio as but one religio among many religiones. Nongbri then examines how the English Deists of the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries (namely, Edward Lord Herbert and John Toland) used religio; he finds that their usage of the term begins to approximate what we today mean by “religion”: different groups of faith and practice that should be seen as equally important. Next, Nongbri looks at Jean Bodin’s Six Books of the Commonwealth, where Bodin argues that if a state cannot achieve uniformity of religion, it should allow different groups to live according to their own beliefs. Finally, Nongbri discusses John Locke’s Letter Concerning Toleration, where Locke argues that one’s beliefs have no place in the public sphere, and are ideally kept private; Nongbri argues that this view, while still somewhat different from the contemporary valences of the word “religion,” reflects a “turning point” (104) in the definition of the term.

Chapter 6 explores the discovery, among Westerners at least, of different religious traditions during the colonial era, namely Hinduism, the practices of the Hottentots in Southern Africa, and Shinto. Nongbri first gives a historical account of the Western discovery of these different religions, then examines how the colonialists tried to classify and systematize them. Basically, Nongbri asserts, the colonialists tried to reconcile their belief that (Protestant) Christianity was the “true religion” (as with Samuel Purchas, 120) with the variety of religions they found around the world; in the end, they claimed that all religions are the same in essence, but have different manifestations, and that religion was a private, not a public, affair. In concluding the chapter, Nongbri argues that the category of World Religions—and, more generally, that religion is “simply there” (129) in all cultures throughout all of history—is an artifact of the colonial age, and should be recognized as such.

Chapter 7 is a historical account of the development of the study of ancient religion, from which Nongbri argues that historians and classicists, although acknowledging that the modern valences of the term “religion” are often ill-suited for describing the practices of the ancient world, nonetheless continue to use the term. Nongbri begins the chapter by surveying the development of studying Greek and Roman religion from the beginning of the modern era, where it was seen as demon-worship, to the present, where it is seen as something totally different from modern understandings of religion. He then traces the “birth and growth of a new ‘ancient religion’” (143), that of ancient Mesopotamia, which, he argues, more or less followed the changes in scholars’ conceptions of religion, ending in defining Mesopotamian religion with reference to “religious experience” or “feelings,” a category Nongbri disputes throughout the book. Nongbri concludes that ascribing religion to an ancient society imposes a concept on ancient societies that those societies did not see in themselves, namely a concept of “religion” as separate from the secular.

In the conclusion, Nongbri proposes a shift in discourse, to replace religious studies’ current mode of analysis: “Religion could be deployed in nonessentialist ways to treat something as a religion for the purposes of analysis. . . . We would no longer ask the question ‘Is phenomenon X a religion?’ Rather we would ask something like ‘Can we see anything new and interesting about phenomenon X by considering it, for the purpose of study, as a religion?’” (155). Or, in relation to the ancient world, “religion can be used as a redescriptive concept for studying the ancient world. The question then becomes: What sort of definition or theory of religion should be used for this redescriptive project?” (157). These, I think, are very healthy ways to reframe the question.

In all, I think Nongbri’s book is a useful contribution to the study of religion, and especially to the study of religion in the ancient world. It brings religion scholars face-to-face with the history of a term that is central to our field of study, and it questions the assumptions about that term that lie hidden within scholarly discourse on the subject. In the end, Nongbri’s proposals are quite helpful, and provide a way for religion scholars to be fair to ancient and/or non-Western sources, while still using the categories of study they have inherited.

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