JUDAISM IN LATE ANTIQUITY

PART FOUR

DEATH, LIFE-AFTER-DEATH,
RESURRECTION AND THE WORLD-TO-COME
IN THE JUDAISMS OF ANTIQUITY
HANDBUCH DER ORIENTALISTIK
HANDBOOK OF ORIENTAL STUDIES
ERSTE ABTEILUNG
DER NAHE UND MITTLERE OSTEN
THE NEAR AND MIDDLE EAST
HERAUSGEGEBEN VON
H. ALTENMÜLLER · B. HROUDA · B.A. LEVINE · R.S. O’FAHEY
K.R. VEENHOF · C.H.M. VERSTEEGH

NEUNUNDVIERZIGSTER BAND

JUDAISM IN LATE ANTIQUITY

PART FOUR

DEATH, LIFE-AFTER-DEATH,
RESURRECTION AND THE WORLD-TO-COME
IN THE JUDAISMS OF ANTIQUITY
 JUDAISM
IN LATE ANTIQUITY
EDITED BY

ALAN J. AVERY-PECK
AND

JACOB NEUSNER

PART FOUR

DEATH, LIFE-AFTER-DEATH,
RESURRECTION AND THE WORLD-TO-COME
IN THE JUDAISMS OF ANTIQUITY

BRILL
LEIDEN • BOSTON • KÖLN
2000
 This book is printed on acid-free paper.

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(Revised for vol. 1)
Judaism in late antiquity.
(Handbuch der Orientalistik. Erste Abteilung,
der Nahe und Mittlere Osten, 0169-9423 ; 16.-17. Bd.)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
Contents: pt. 1. The literary and archaeological
sources.—pt. 2. Historical syntheses.
1. Judaism—History—Post-exilic period,
586 B.C.-210 A.D.—Sources. I. Neusner, Jacob.
1932– . II. Series : Handbuch der Orientalistik.
Erste Abteilung, Der Nahe und Mittlere Osten ;
16.-17. Bd.
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ISBN 90–04–10130–6

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hrsg. von H. Altenmüller …
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Bd. 49. Judaism in late antiquity
Pt. 4. Death, life after death, resurrection and the world-to-come in the
Judaisms of antiquity. – 1999

Judaism in late antiquity / by Alan J. Avery-Peck and Jacob

Neusner. – Leiden ; Boston ; Köln : Brill
(Handbook of oriental studies : Abt. 1, The Near and Middle East ; …)
Pt. 4. Death, life after death, resurrection and the world-to-come in the
Judaisms of antiquity. – 1999
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 TABLE OF CONTENTS

Preface ........................................................................................ vii

Introduction
The Four Approaches to the Description of Ancient
Judaism(s): Nominalist, Harmonistic, Theological, and His-
torical ..................................................................................... 1
Jacob Neusner, University of South Florida and Bard
College

i. the legacy of scripture

1. Death and Afterlife: The Biblical Silence ............................ 35
Richard Elliott Friedman, University of California, San
Diego
Shawna Dolansky Overton, University of California,
San Diego

2. Death and Afterlife in the Psalms ........................................ 61

John Goldingay, Fuller Theological Seminary

3. Memory as Immortality: Countering the Dreaded “Death

after Death” in Ancient Israelite Society ............................. 87
Brian B. Schmidt, University of Michigan

4. Death and Afterlife in the Wisdom Literature ..................... 101

Roland E. Murphy, Whitefriars Hall

ii. judaic writings in greek

5. The Afterlife in Apocalyptic Literature ................................ 119
John J. Collins, University of Chicago

6. Judgment, Life-After-Death, and Resurrection in the Apo-

crypha and the Non-Apocalyptic Pseudepigrapha............... 141
George W.E. Nickelsburg, The University of Iowa
vi table of contents

7. Eschatology in Philo and Josephus ....................................... 163

Lester L. Grabbe, University of Hull

iii. the dead sea scrolls

8. Death, Resurrection, and Life after Death in the Qumran
Scrolls .................................................................................... 189
Philip Davies, Sheffield University

iv. earliest christianity

9. Resurrection in the Gospels ................................................. 215
Bruce Chilton, Bard College

v. rabbinic judaism
10. Death and Afterlife in the Early Rabbinic Sources:
The Mishnah, Tosefta, and Early Midrash Compilations 243
Alan J. Avery-Peck, College of the Holy Cross

11. Death and Afterlife in the Later Rabbinic Sources:

The Two Talmuds and Associated Midrash-Compilations 267
Jacob Neusner, University of South Florida and Bard
College

12. Death and Afterlife: The Inscriptional Evidence ................ 293

Leonard V. Rutgers, University of Utrecht

13. The Resurrection of the Dead and the Sources of the Pal-
estinian Targums to the Pentateuch ................................... 311
Paul V.M. Flesher, University of Wyoming

General Index ............................................................................ 333

Index of Biblical and Ancient References ................................. 335
 PREFACE

The most puzzling problem in the study of Judaism in late antiquity

arises out of the diversity of the literary evidence produced in the
name of that religion, which, by any definition, riddled with contra-
dictions, sustains a variety of propositions and their opposites. Every-
one knows that the Hebrew Scriptures (“Old Testament”) yield di-
verse pictures of God and various accounts of the critical issues of
ancient Israel’s world-view and way of life. From the closure of Scrip-
ture forward, moreover, for whatever issue we take up, we find that
the writings authoritative for one group or another define in contra-
dictory ways the critical components of Judaism, whether these per-
tain to matters of behavior or concern matters of belief. Not only in
minor detail but in fundamental conviction, the written evidence
presents us with directly contradictory propositions on pretty much
everything that counts. The obvious point of division within ancient
Israel, the familiar conflict between Torah and Christ, “Judaism”
and “Christianity,” does not obscure the many other equally pro-
found obstacles to the conception—the conviction, really—that all
evidence produced by circles of Israelites attests to a single Judaism.
Yet how to portray the full complexity of the problem, neatly phrased
as “one Judaism or many,” not in normative, theological terms, but
in analytical ones?
To answer that question, one Judaism or many?, we devised a
simple experiment and invited the participants in this volume to help
us carry it out. We determined to describe the views on a single topic
set forth by the various bodies of literary evidence deemed to speak
for Israelites, thus to stand for the religion, Judaism. These groups of
writings, respectively, are universally differentiated from all others
deemed to belong to Israel, e.g., Scripture as a whole as against other
Israelite writings; distinct parts of Scripture such as Psalms or the
Wisdom literature; apocalyptic and the non-apocalyptic pseudepi-
graphic literature, Philo; Josephus; the Dead Sea Scrolls; earliest
Christianity (the Gospels in particular); the Rabbinic sources; the
Palestinian Targums to the Pentateuch; and, as a control out of
material culture, the inscriptional evidence. While such a sample
does not exhaust the possibilities among the writings of ancient Isra-
elites to be differentiated from one another, it does represent a con-
viii preface

siderable selection. And, we think it is self-evident, no one in the

academic world today would deem all of these bodies of writing to be
interchangeable and mutually indistinguishable, so the sole given of
the experiment is that the Dead Sea Scrolls may be read as a cogent
statement distinct from Psalms or Philo or the Mishnah, and so
throughout.
Inviting specialists in the diverse bodies of written evidence to
answer a single question out of the resources of the writings on which
they concentrate, we simply said, “Here is a theme of considerable
interest to most writers in the Israelite world of antiquity; tell us what
the writers you know well have to say about it.” In the characteriza-
tion of the views of clearly-differentiated bodies of writing, we antici-
pated we should lay out a very large sample of ancient Israelite
thought that intersected on a single subject, and we expected that this
collection of research-reports would produce—and here does pro-
duce in concrete terms—one of two results. It would place on display
indicative components of Judaism in its full diversity and inner inco-
herence and show that the notion of a single, coherent religion, all
parts of which attest a single cogent whole, falls of its own weight
under the mass of documentary contradictions. Or the inner har-
mony that shines forth from the repertoire of the superficially-diverse
data would emerge in the commonalities that prove blatant. This
approach differs from one that would intentionally pick and choose
and so create a harmony of all the evidence for a single, unitary,
account—a definition of “the” view of the topic characteristic of all
evidence, or of the main stream, or of the normative component
thereof. Here, rather, having assembled the data, we lay it out for all
to see.
Colleagues may draw their own conclusions. Some may see in the
repertoire of evidence from diverse sources large-scale unities, which
then stand for that single “Judaism” that defines the common de-
nominator among the various “sects” or “small groups.” So they will
pursue the path of a single Judaism to be described as a core, or “an
evolving tradition,” or any of the other solutions to the problem of
diversity that have found favor in one circle or another. Yet others
may accept that, in the case at hand, we cannot define a single,
normative and authoritative Judaism. They will dismiss out of hand
the possibility for ancient times of describing, analyzing, and inter-
preting the history of a single religious tradition, “Judaism.” Both
approaches—the realist, the nominalist, in medieval terms—contain
 preface ix

within themselves a variety of unsolved problems. For the moment, it

suffices to lay out the results of the experiment, the research reports
that comprise the present volume.
Do these papers form a cogent book? Within the “realist” theory,
they ought to, and perhaps they do. Within the “nominalist” theory,
they ought not, and perhaps they do not. Those who read and use
this book will form their own answer to that question. Were the
editors to undertake to explain the cogency or to underscore the
incoherence of the results of the research reports assembled here,
they would close the very question they mean here to open and
instantiate: how would we know whether in antiquity there was one
Judaism or many? What evidence would point to an answer to that
question, and how would that evidence, inevitably containing contra-
dictions and flaws, be read to elicit that answer? Here we make
possible an experiment in answering that critical question for the
study of ancient Judaism.
Among the approaches currently deemed persuasive, the editors,
as a matter of fact, do choose one and reject others. But this book,
and the series of which it forms a continuation, is intended to portray
the state of learning, not to advocate a particular position within the
contemporary debate or to demonstrate the correctness of that posi-
tion and to instantiate the weakness of other approaches. Rather, we
mean to open questions of method through the study of evidence and
cases. That is why we leave it for readers to make use for their own
purposes of these research reports, coherent as to theme, coherent or
not as to results. The chapters in the shank of the book do not speak
to a larger question of method, but they serve to illustrate one. It is,
indeed, a question of method that even beginning students of
Judaism in late antiquity (encompassing also formative Christianity)
must address and, we hope, will find accessible through the case
studies at hand.
The question of method concerns definition: precisely what do we
mean by the word “Judaism,” of what do we speak when we use that
word, and how do we find out? No more fundamental question in the
study of religion than what we mean by “religion” presents itself, and
for a particular religion, the same is so. In late antiquity, two massive
religious worlds, the ones we call “Judaism” and “Christianity,” took
shape and defined themselves, both in relationship to one another
and in their own, autonomous terms. So when we ask about ques-
tions of definition (including self-definition), when we speak of “one
x preface

Judaism or many?,” we take up in academic terms precisely the

critical issue to which, in one way or another, all of the data of
Judaism in late antiquity ultimately pertain.
Now how to proceed, not within, but beyond the limits of the
research reports we have assembled here? Just now we referred by
way of analogy to nominalism and realism, the medieval debate con-
tinuous with the philosophical tradition of antiquity. In fact, in con-
temporary scholarship, not two but four approaches to the diversity
of the evidence presented by a single and distinct religious world
dictate the character of learning, and each explains in its own way a
given corpus of contradictory evidence put forward by a religion, a
religious community or a religious tradition, as people prefer. These
are [1] the radically-nominalist, [2] the radically-harmonistic, [3] the
theological, and [4] the historical. In the Introduction they are fully
spelled out, with a detailed account of the current books that embody
them. Not only so, but our critique of those books and report of the
method we think best serves, the historical,1 states in so many words
how we think learning should proceed, and how other approaches
than ours fail to accommodate the character of the evidence and
satisfactorily resolve the contradictions posed to said approaches by
that evidence. So we spell out what we think, and that further sug-
gests how we approach the results of the research reports assembled
in these pages.

The editors express their gratitude to their academic foundations,

The College of the Holy Cross for the first editor and the University
of South Florida and Bard College for the second. Their work, sever-
ally and jointly, rests on the long-term commitment to their academic
enterprise that is made—generously and consistently over the years
—by these centers of higher learning.
They further state their thanks to Brill Academic Publishers and its
indefatigable, ever-solicitous staff, to editors who maintain a uni-
formly high standard of professionalism, making easy and felicitous
the entire work of producing books. And, finally, to the authors of the
papers included here, for the dedication to this project represented in

1
But the second editor has also undertaken substantial work within the theologi-
cal reading of ancient Judaism as well, in Jacob Neusner, Theology of the Oral Torah:
Revealing the Justice of God (Montreal and Kingston, 1999), Theological Grammar of the
Oral Torah (Binghamton, 1999), vols. I-IV, and related works.
 preface xi

their prompt and conscientious work. We are proud that so many

distinguished scholars have joined in this effort both to elucidate our
particular topic and to facilitate a new approach to the larger ques-
tion of whether, in antiquity, there was one Judaism or many.

Alan J. Avery-Peck
Kraft-Hiatt Professor of Judaic Studies
College of the Holy Cross, Worcester, Massachusetts

Jacob Neusner
Distinguished Research Professor of Religious Studies
University of South Florida, Tampa, Florida
and
Professor of Religion
Bard College, Annandale-on-Hudson, New York
 INTRODUCTION

THE FOUR APPROACHES TO THE DESCRIPTION OF

ANCIENT JUDAISM(S): NOMINALIST, HARMONISTIC,
THEOLOGICAL, AND HISTORICAL

Jacob Neusner
University of South Florida and Bard College

To place the present experiment in context, we outline the ways in

which various scholars have addressed the same problem, that of the
diversity of the evidence people suppose attests to a single Judaism.
Four approaches have defined the modern and contemporary de-
scription of Judaism in late antiquity, of which the fourth is the one
favored by the editors.1 These are (in our characterizations thereof)
nominalist, harmonistic, theological, and historical. An account of
the methodological choices currently adopted will place into perspec-
tive both the conflicts in contemporary scholarship and the challenge
set forth by the repertoire of research reports laid out here.
Nominalist: The first is the radically nominalist view that every
Jew defines Judaism. Judaism is the sum of the attitudes and beliefs of
all the members of an ethnic group; each member of the group serves
equally well to define Judaism, with the result that questions of the
social order—e.g., which particular group or social entity of persons
held this view—are dismissed. All issues of philosophy and intellect
then are dismissed, and the work of intellectual description and defi-
nition is abandoned before it is undertaken. This method, repre-
sented in the work of S.J.D. Cohen, yields the opposite of description
and forestalls all analysis and interpretation.
Harmonistic: If the nominalist description regards “Judaism” as
the sum of everybody’s personal “Judaism,” the harmonistic finds its
definition in the common denominator among the sum of all

1
See William Scott Green, “Ancient Judaism, Contours and Complexity,” in the
James Barr Festschrift, to whom we owe the identification and classification of the first
of the four. The second editor of this volume has elaborated his account of problems
of method in the following books: The Ecology of Religion: From Writing to Religion in the
Study of Judaism (Nashville, 1989), and Studying Classical Judaism: A Primer (Louisville,
1991).
2 introduction

Judaisms. So the second is at the opposite extreme: all Jewish data—

writings and other records—together tell us about a single Judaism,
defined by appeal to the lowest common denominator among all the
data. That is the view taken by E.P. Sanders in the 1992 version of
his opinion. This is an approach that accomplishes description, but
produces banality.
Theological Judaism: Just as the first two approaches to the de-
scription of Judaism, or of Rabbinic Judaism, ignore all questions of
context and deem irrelevant the inquiry into the relationship between
the ideas people held and the world in which they lived, so the third
equally takes its position in the idealist, as against the social, world of
interpretation. This is the method of theological description followed
by George Foot Moore, Joseph Bonsirven, Ephraim E. Urbach, and
E.P. Sanders in the 1977 version of his views. This approach provides
a well-crafted description but ignores all questions of context and
social relevance. Its “Judaism” came into existence for reasons we
cannot say, addressed no issues faced by ordinary people, and consti-
tuted a set of disembodied, socially-irrelevant ideas, lacking history
and consequence. So it can be described and even analyzed, but not
interpreted.
Historical: The fourth position is the approach to description
taken in this book: we work our way through the sources in the order
in which, it is generally assumed, they reached closure, so finding the
order and sequence in which ideas came to expression. This ap-
proach produces not only historical description and systemic analysis
but also hypotheses of interpretation on the interplay of texts and
contexts, ideas and the critical issues addressed by the people who
put forth those ideas.
Here we wish to identify three major problems in the approaches
typified by Cohen, Sanders (in his version of 1992), and Moore,
Urbach, and Sanders (in his version of 1977). These are conceptual,
contextual, and historical.
The conceptual problem is best illustrated by Cohen, who defines
“Judaism” as the sum of the beliefs of all Jews. This simply evades the
issues of the study of religion, to which Cohen scarcely claims to be
party. He investigates religious writings without the tools of the aca-
demic study of religion.
The contextual problem affects all the others treated here; it is,
alas, paralyzing but ubiquitous. To do their work, everyone assumes
that if a story is told, it really happened; if a saying is assigned to a
 four approaches to the description of ancient judaism 3

named authority, he really said it, and his opinion, moreover, is

shared by everybody else, so we have not his opinion but “Judaism.”
The operative question facing anyone who proposes to translate writ-
ing into religion—that is, accounts of “Judaism,” as George F. Moore
claims to give, or “The Sages,” that Ephraim E. Urbach imagines he
has made, or Sanders’s charming, if puerile, “harmony of the
sources”—is the historical one. It is this: how you know exactly what
was said and done, that is, the history that you claim to report about
what happened long ago? Specifically, how do you know he really
said it? And if you do not know that he really said it, how can you ask
the questions that you ask, which have as their premise the claim that
you can say what happened or did not happen?
We shall now see how prior scholars have described Judaism, or
just “Judaism” including Rabbinic Judaism. This review of the other
three approaches to the description of Rabbinic Judaism, or of all
Judaisms of antiquity, takes the form of truncated reviews of the
books of their principal proponents. In the course of these reviews,
we characterize the method of the scholar under discussion and ex-
plain what is wrong with that method and its results.

i. Nominalist: The Innumerable Judaisms of S.J.D. Cohen

From the Maccabees to the Mishnah. By Shaye J.D. Cohen. Library of Early
Christianity. Philadelphia, 1987: Westminster Press. Edited by Wayne
A. Meeks.

Cohen’s account reminds us of the prophetic description of Israelite

religion, with its altars on every hilltop and at every street corner. For
him, every Jew tells us about a Judaism, one by one. Cohen presents
a textbook for college students on Judaism: “the goal of this book is to
interpret ancient Judaism: to identify its major ideas, to describe its
salient practices, to trace its unifying patterns, and to assess its rela-
tionship to Israelite religion and society. The book is arranged the-
matically rather than chronologically….” Cohen begins with a gen-
eral chronology of ancient Judaism and offers definitions thereof. He
proceeds to “Jews and Gentiles,” covering political matters, gentile
domination, in that section: the Maccabean rebellion, the rebellion
against the Romans, the wars of 115-117 and 132-135; cultural:
Judaism and Hellenism, covering “Hellenism,” “Hellenization, and
4 introduction

“Hellenistic Judaism and the like; social: Jews and gentiles, anti-
Judaism and “Anti-Semitism” and Philo-Judaism; then the Jewish
“Religion” (his quotation marks), practices and beliefs, in which he
defines “religion” (again, his quotation marks), practices, worship of
God, ritual observances, ritual, ethics, and the yoke of the law, legal-
ism, beliefs, kingship of God, reward and punishment, redemption.
Then comes “the community and its institutions,” dealing with the
public institutions of the land of Israel, the Temple and Sanhedrin,
the public institutions of the diaspora, the synagogue, private organi-
zations, sects, professional guilds, schools. Then he treats “sectarian
and normative,” with attention to “sect and heresy,” “focal points of
Jewish sectarianism,” “orthodox and “normative,” proto-sectarian-
ism in the Persian period, Ezra and Nehemiah, Isaiah 65, Pharisees,
Sadducees, and Essenes; other sects and groups, touching on “fourth
philosophy,” Christians, Samaritans, and Therapeutae. This is fol-
lowed by “canonization and its implications,” with attention to the
history of the biblical canon. At the end is “the emergence of rab-
binic Judaism,” with the main point “from second Temple Judaism
to rabbinic Judaism.” All of these topics—and many more not cata-
logued—are covered in 230 pages, with a few pages of notes, and a
few more for further reading.
The book exhibits a number of substantial flaws in presentation,
conception, and mode of argument. These are three, and each one is
so fundamental as to turn the book into a good bit less than meets the
eye. The first of the three is the one relevant to the problem of
describing Rabbinic (or any other) Judaism, and the others connected
to it.
First, Cohen’s plan of organization yields pure chaos. Reading this
book is like reading a sequence of encyclopaedia articles. That is why
the first, and the principal, minus is the mode of organization, which
separates important components of the picture at any given moment.
That is to say, in one chapter, Cohen treats “Jews and gentiles,” in
another, Jewish religion, yet in a quite separate chapter, “sectarian-
ism,” and so on. In that way we are denied a sense of the whole and
complete picture, at any one time, of the religious worldview and way
of life of the Jews in the land of Israel.
Within the chapters, too, we find the same incapacity at forming a
cogent and coherent statement of the whole. “Jews and gentiles”
covers separate matters of political, cultural, and social policy, one by
one. But these are not separate matters and never were. Within poli-
 four approaches to the description of ancient judaism 5

tics we move from Jeremiah to the Persians, the Maccabees, the

Romans; then on the cultural agenda, we have Judaism and Hellen-
ism, out of phase with the foregoing. And then we come to “social:
Jews and gentiles,” and yet a fresh set of issues. So the book is chaotic
in character. But that results from a more profound intellectual
chaos, Cohen’s disciplinary inadequacy.
The second principal failure of the book derives from a simple
methodological incapacity. Cohen’s knowledge of the study of reli-
gion is remarkably undeveloped, with the result that he operates with
unworkable definitions of principal categories and classifications.
Though Cohen’s prior scholarship lies in history, not in religion, he
proposes to speak not of Jews’ histories, or “the Jews’ history” in
some one place or time, but of “Judaism.” By his own claim, then, he
is to be judged; but he has not done his homework. He simply has
not got the training in the field of the history of religion to develop an
interpretive framework adequate to his task. As a result he is left to
try to present cogently a vast array of diverse materials that are not
cogent at all. With this he simply cannot cope, and the result is a
series of rather unfortunate “definitions” that define nothing and lead
nowhere.
Let me give two probative examples. In both of them he substi-
tutes classical philology for the history of religion. Nominalism takes
over when Cohen wishes to define religion. This he does by asking
what the word “religio” meant in antiquity. Using the words of
Morton Smith, he says, “If a contemplative person in antiquity
sought systematic answers to questions about the nature of the gods
and their involvement in human affairs, he would have studied phi-
losophy, not ‘religion.’” Placing religion in quotation-marks does not
solve any problems left unsolved by this monumentally irrelevant
definition. For when we study religion, it is within the definition(s) of
religion that we have formed and introduced as the evidence we have
identified as pertinent. That process is in part inductive and in part
deductive, but it is never defined wholly within the definitions of
another language and another age. There is a vast literature, from
the Enlightenment forward, on the definition of religion, a literature
in philosophy, history of religions, and a range of other fields. Cohen
does not seem to have followed the discussions on the nature and
meaning of religion that have illuminated studies in the nineteenth
and twentieth centuries, with the result that he does not know how to
6 introduction

deal with the data he is trying to sift, organize, and present in a

cogent way.
As to “Judaism,” the word occurs on every page and in nearly
every paragraph. It starts, “The goal of this book is to interpret
ancient Judaism.” But we do not know what Cohen means by
“Judaism.” Cohen recognizes that various groups of Jews formulated
matters each in its own way, lived each in its own pattern, defined
each its own “Judaism.” And yet from the opening lines, “Judaism” is
an “it,” not a “they,” and Cohen tells us “its major ideas…its salient
practices...its unifying patterns...its relationship to Israelite religion”
(which then is another, different “it”). But that is only part of the
story. Cohen recognizes that the data that fall into the category,
“religion,” hence “Judaism,” are incoherent and diverse. He says
so—but then he is stymied when he tries to justify treating many
things as one thing. Cohen states:
Second Temple Judaism was a complex phenomenon. Judaism
changed dramatically during the Persian, Hellenistic, Maccabean, Ro-
man, and rabbinic periods. Generalizations that may be true for one
period may not be true for another. In addition, at any given moment,
Jews practiced their religion in manifold different ways. The Jewish
community of Egypt in the first century C.E. was far from uniform in
practice and belief….
That then is the question. How is it answered?
Here is the clear statement of that conceptual chaos that we call
Cohen’s extreme nominalism: one Judaism per Jew. We underline
the relevant language.
What links these diverse phenomena together and allows them all to be
called Judaism? [Italics his] The Jews saw (and see) themselves as the
heirs and continuators of the people of pre-exilic Israel; the Jews also
felt…an affinity for their fellow Jews throughout the world.... This self-
perception manifested itself especially in the relations of Diaspora Jewry
to the land of Israel and the Temple...Thus, like the bumblebee which
continues to fly, unaware that the laws of aerodynamics declare its flight
to be impossible, the Jews of antiquity saw themselves as citizens of one
nation and one religion, unaware of, or oblivious to, the fact that they
were separated from each other by their diverse languages, practices,
ideologies, and political loyalties. In this book I do not minimize the
varieties of Jewish religious expression, but my goal is to see the unity
within the diversity.
That, sum and substance, is Cohen’s solution. What is wrong is that
Cohen’s “unity” adds up to the sum of all diversities, the opposite of
 four approaches to the description of ancient judaism 7

Sanders’s lowest-common-denominator-Judaism, which we shall ex-

amine presently.
As a matter of fact, Cohen’s description of “Judaism” simply is
wrong, because his data contradict his “method.” There were groups
of Jews who regarded themselves as the only Jews on earth; everyone
else was not “Israel” at all. The Essenes of Qumran saw themselves
in that way. But so too did the authorship of the Pentateuch, which
treated as normative the experience of exile and return and excluded
from the normative experience of their particular “Israel” the Sa-
maritans, who had not gone into exile, and the Jews elsewhere who
never went back and who are totally ignored in the Pentateuchal
statement of 450 B.C.E. So the allegation that Cohen knows what all
the Jews thought of themselves is called into question by his rather
blithe failure to conduct a survey of opinion, to the degree that we
know opinion at all.
As a matter of definition, Cohen does not really answer the ques-
tion of defining a single Judaism at all. Here again, the absence of a
theoretical system accounts for his failure. Historians do not ask the
questions that historians of religion do. How people see themselves
forms a fundamental fact for the description of their worldview—but
not for the world they view. Cohen is correct to claim that the way in
which a given group sees itself tells us something about their Judaism.
But whether or not their views testify to other Judaisms he does not
know. The reason is that he does not explain and unpack the theol-
ogy within his allegations of a mutually-supportive society throughout
the world. Cohen claims that “this self-perception manifested itself
especially in the relations of Diaspora Jewry to the land of Israel and
the Temple.” But diaspora Jews preserved a certain distance; they
gave money to the Temple, but when the Jews of the land of Israel
went to war, diaspora Jews remained at peace, within the same em-
pire—and vice versa. That hardly suggests that the perceived “affin-
ity” made much difference in public policy. What we have is an
excuse for not investigating the answers to a well-asked question—
but not an answer to that question.
Cohen’s limited knowledge of the study of religion lies at the heart
of the book’s failure. Lest Cohen’s difficulty at conceptualization
seem one episode in an otherwise well-crafted work, let me point to
yet another example of how he dismisses as trivial a central question
of definition. Cohen needs to address the issue of “sects,” meaning (in
my language) diverse Judaisms. He has to discern the difference be-
8 introduction

tween the sectarian and the normative, and, to his credit, he devotes
a whole chapter to the matter. But here too he appeals to ancient
usage in the solution of a problem of conceptualization—as though
anybody any more is bound to word-usages of Greek or Latin. He
contrasts the negative use of “sect” and “heresy,” deriving from the-
ology. “‘Sects’ and ‘heresies’ are religious groups and doctrines of
which we disapprove.” That is true, but only for the uninformed.
A vast literature on the definition of “sect” and “church” exists.
Cohen does not use it. Here is his definition: “A sect is a small,
organized group that separates itself from a larger religious body and
asserts that it alone embodies the ideals of the larger group because it
alone understands God’s will.” A sect then seems to me in Cohen’s
mind to be no different from a religion, except that it is small
(“small”) and differs from a group that is larger (“a larger religious
body”). How the sect relates to the “larger religious body” we do not
know. If the “sect” dismisses the “larger group” because the sect
claims alone to understand God’s will, then why is the sect not a
“religious body” on its own? It would seem to me to claim exactly
that. Lest we appear to exaggerate the conceptual crudity at hand
and to impute to Cohen opinions he does not hold, let me now cite
his own words (including his italics):
A sect must be small enough to be a distinctive part of a larger religious
body. If a sect grows to the extent that it is a large body in its own right,
it is no longer a sect but a “religion” or a “church.” The precise defini-
tion of “large body” and “church” is debated by sociologists, but that
question need not be treated here.
This, we submit, is pure gibberish—and so is Cohen’s “Judaism.” A
small group is a sect. A big one is a “religion” or a “church.” What
has led Cohen to this impasse is simple. Since there is one “Judaism”
we have to figure out some way to deal with all the other Judaisms,
and by calling them “little” we can find a suitable pigeonhole for
them; then we do not have to ask how “little” is different from “big”
except that it is little. So much for unworkable classifications. There
is no better exemplification of the radically-nominalist method in
contemporary scholarship.
 four approaches to the description of ancient judaism 9

ii. Harmonistic: The One Judaism of E.P. Sanders (1992)

Judaism. Practice and Belief 63 B.C.E. - 66 C.E. by E.P. Sanders. Lon-

don, 1992: SCM Press and Philadelphia, 1992: Trinity Press Interna-
tional

E.P. Sanders has described “Judaism” twice, once intelligently, the

other not. The intellectually challenging and perspicacious approach
of 1977 is dealt with below as one of the principal examples of
theological volumes; there he distinguishes among Judaisms, with
special reference to the Dead Sea Scrolls and Rabbinic Judaism in
comparison to Paul’s system, and he finds characteristics of a single
Judaism—with special reference to what he calls “covenantal
nomism”—shared among the carefully distinguished systems. That
work presents problems of a historical and hermeneutical character.
In the more recent volume, by contrast, Sanders joins all evidences
concerning Judaic religious systems into a single, harmonious
“Judaism,” the equivalent to the New Testament “harmonies of the
Gospels” that people used to put together.
Sanders claim to give us an account of a single, comprehensive
Judaism underscores the profound misconstruction that emerges
from the confusion of history and theology. So far as we know, he
must be the first scholar in recent times to imagine that all sources
produced by Jews, anywhere, any time, by any sort of person or
group, equally tell us about one and the same Judaism. Schürer was
far more critical nearly a century ago. The other major “Judaism”s—
Bousset-Gressman’s, Moore’s, or Urbach’s for instance—select a
body of evidence and work on that, not assuming that everything
everywhere tells us about one thing, a single Judaism. True, to ac-
count for a single Christianity, Christian theologians have also to
define a single Judaism, and that explains why Sanders has fabricated
a single “Judaism” out of a mass of mutually contradictory sources.
But others did the work with greater acumen and discernment, and,
when we examine Sanders’s results closely, we see that here too is less
than meets the eye.
Sanders thinks that any and every source, whoever wrote it, with-
out regard to its time or place or venue, tells us about one and the
same Judaism. The only way to see everything all together and all at
once, as Sanders wishes to do, is to rise high above the evidence, so
high that we no longer see the lines of rivers, the height of mountains,
10 introduction

the undulations of plains—any of the details of the earth’s true con-

figuration. This conflation of all sources yields a fabricated Judaism,
a “Judaism” that flourished everywhere but nowhere—Alexandria,
Jerusalem, Galilee, Babylonia (to judge from the sources that the
scholars who present this view have mixed together); a Judaism that
we find all the time but in no one period—represented equally by the
historical Moses and the Rabbinic one, the pseudepigrapha of the
third century B.C.E. and the first century C.E., the Dead Sea Scrolls
of the second and first centuries B.C.E., and, where Sanders has
decided, the Mishnah of the early third century C.E.
Sanders does not identify “the synagogue” where this Judaism
offered up its prayers, the community that was shaped by its rules,
the functioning social order that saw the world within its vision. And
that failure of specificity attests to the good sense of the Jews of
antiquity, who cannot have affirmed everything and its opposite: the
sacrifices of the Temple are valid (as many sources maintain) and also
invalid (as the Dead Sea Scrolls hold); study of the Torah is critical
(as the Rabbinic sources adduced ad lib. by Sanders) and
eschatological visions prevail (as many of the pseudepigraphic writers
conceive). Philo’s cool, philosophical mind and the heated imagina-
tion of visionaries form for Sanders a single Judaism, but no single
corpus of evidence, deriving from a particular place, time, circum-
stance, and community, concurs for “Judaism.” To refer to a single
issue, baptism can have been for the eschatological forgiveness of
sins, as John the Baptist and Jesus maintained; or it can have been for
the achievement of cultic purity in an eternal rhythm of nature and
cult, as the Pharisees and the Mishnah held; but not both.
Sanders sees unities where find differences. The result of his Judaic
equivalent of a “harmony of the Gospels” is a dreary progress
through pointless information. Sanders’s relentlessly informative dis-
course persistently leaves open the question, so what? Throughout,
readers will find themselves wondering why Sanders thought the in-
formation he set forth important, and the information he omitted
unimportant. If we know that his conflationary Judaism prevailed
everywhere, then what else do we know about the Judaisms to which
each source in turn attests (as well)? Do all the writers subscribe to
this one Judaism, so that we are supposed to read into each docu-
ment what all the documents together supposedly affirm?
He elaborately tells us why he thinks various documents tell, or do
not tell, what really happened; he never explains why he maintains
 four approaches to the description of ancient judaism 11

that these documents and artifacts of archaeology, often profoundly

at variance with one another, attest to a single Judaism. Did all these
Jews pray together in the same synagogue, did they eat together at
the same table, did they give their children in marriage to one an-
other as part of the same social entity? If he thinks that they did, then
he contradicts a fair part of the evidence he allegedly reviews. Cer-
tainly the members of the Essene community at Qumran, for one
example, did not regard the Jerusalem Temple as holy, and the
Mishnah is explicit that its faithful are not going to eat supper with
other Israelites, a view on which the Gospels concur as well.
Not that capricious conflation of all the sources Sanders thinks fit
together and silent omission of all the sources he rejects is something
Moore, Schechter, and even Urbach never did. Urbach cited Philo
but not the Dead Sea Scrolls, having decided that the one was kosher,
the other treif. Sanders has decided there are no intellectual counter-
parts to dietary laws at all: he swallows it all and chews it up and spits
out a homogenized “Judaism” lacking all specific flavor. Nor can we
point to any other scholar of ancient Judaism working today who
cites everything from everywhere to tell us about one and the same
Judaism. The contrast between the intellectually rigorous thinking of
James Dunn on defining “Judaism” in his Partings of the Ways and the
conceptually-unrefined work of Sanders on the same problem—add-
ing up all the sources and not so much finding as inventing what he
conceives to be the common denominator—tells the story.
This fabrication of a single Judaism is supposed to tell us some-
thing that pertains equally to all: the Judaism that forms the basis for
all the sources, the common denominator among them all. If we
know a book or an artifact is “Jewish” (an ethnic term, Judaic being
the religious category) then we are supposed automatically to know
various other facts about said book or artifact. But the upshot is
either too general to mean much (monotheism) or too abstract to
form an intelligible statement. Let me be specific. How Philo will
have understood the Dead Sea Scrolls, the authors of apocalyptic
writings, those of the Mishnah-passages Sanders admits to his ac-
count of Judaism, we are never told. Each of these distinctive docu-
ments gets to speak whenever Sanders wants it to; none is ever
brought into relationship—comparison and contrast—with any
other. The homogenization of Philo, the Mishnah, the Dead Sea
Scrolls, Ben Sira, apocryphal and pseudepigraphic writings, the re-
sults of archaeology, turns out to yield generalizations about a reli-
12 introduction

gion that none of those responsible for the evidence at hand will have
recognized: lifeless, hopelessly abstract, lacking all social relevance, so
stratospheric a level of generalization that all precise vision of real
people practicing a vivid religion is lost.
These remarks appear harsh and extravagant until we take up a
concrete example of the result of this labor of homogenization. To
understand what goes into Sanders’s picture of Judaism, let me now
provide a reasonable sample (pp. 103-104), representative of the
whole. This is the opening paragraphs of his discussion, Chapter
Seven, entitled “Sacrifices:”
The Bible does not offer a single, clearly presented list of sacrifices. The
legal books (Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy), we know
now, incorporate various sources from different periods, and priestly
practice evidently varied from time to time. There are three principal
sources of information about sacrifices in the first century: Josephus,
Philo and the Mishnah. On most points they agree among themselves
and with Leviticus and Numbers; consequently the main outline of
sacrifices is not in dispute. Josephus, in my judgment, is the best source.
He knew what the common practice of the priesthood of his day was:
he had learned it in school, as a boy he had watched and assisted, and
as an adult he had worked in the Temple. It is important for evaluating
his evidence to note that his description of the sacrifices sometimes
disagrees with Leviticus or goes beyond it. This is not an instance in
which he is simply summarizing what is written in the Bible: he is
almost certainly depending on what he had learned as a priest.
Though the Mishnah is often right with regard to pre-70 Temple
practice, many of the discussions are from the second century: the
rabbis continued to debate rules of sacrifice long after living memory of
how it had been done had vanished. Consequently, in reading the
Mishnah one is sometimes reading second-century theory. Occasionally
this can be seen clearly. For example, there is a debate about whether
or not the priest who sacrificed an animal could keep its hide if for any
reason the animal was made invalid (e.g. by touching something im-
pure) after it was sacrificed but before it was flayed. The mishnah on
this topic opens with an anonymous opinion, according to which the
priest did not get the hide. R. Hanina the Prefect of the Priests disa-
greed: “Never have I seen a hide taken out to the place of burning”;
that is, the priests always kept the hides. R. Akiba (early second century)
accepted this and was of the view that the priests could keep the hides
of invalid sacrifices. The Sages, however, ruled the other way (Zevahim
12.4). R. Hanina the Prefect of the Priests apparently worked in the
Temple before 70, but survived its destruction and became part of the
rabbinic movement; Akiba died c. 135; “the sages” of this passage are
probably his contemporaries or possibly the rabbis of the next genera-
tion. Here we see that second century rabbis were quite willing to vote
 four approaches to the description of ancient judaism 13

against actual practice in discussing the behavior of the priests and the
rules they followed. The problem with using the Mishnah is that there
is very seldom this sort of reference to pre-70 practice that allows us to
make critical distinctions: not only are we often reading second-century
discussions, we may be learning only second century theory.
Philo had visited the Temple, and some of his statements about it
(e.g. the guards) seem to be based on personal knowledge. But his
discussion of the sacrifices is “bookish”, and at some important points it
reveals that he is passing on information derived from the Greek trans-
lation of the Hebrew Bible (the Septuagint), not from observation. The
following description basically follows the Hebrew Bible and Josephus,
but it sometimes incorporates details from other sources.
One may make the following distinctions among sacrifices:

With regard to what was offered: meal, wine, birds (doves or pi-
geons) and quadrupeds (sheep, goats and cattle).
With regard to who provided the sacrifice: the community or an
individual.
With regard to the purpose of the sacrifice: worship of and com-
munion with God, glorification of him, thanksgiving, purification,
atonement for sin, and feasting.
With regard to the disposition of the sacrifice: it was either burned
or eaten. The priests got most of the food that sacrifices provided,
though one of the categories of sacrifice provided food for the
person who brought it and his family and friends. The Passover
lambs were also eaten by the worshippers.

Sacrifices were conceived as meals, or, better, banquets. The full and
ideal sacrificial offering consisted of meat, cereal, oil and wine (Num.
14:1-10, Ant. 3.233f.; the menu was sometimes reduced: see below).
We ask readers to stipulate that we can have cited numerous other,
sizable instances of the same sort of discourse.
Now let us ask ourselves, what, exactly, does Sanders wish to tell
his readers about the sacrifices in this account of Judaism. Practice and
Belief ? He starts in the middle of things. He assumes we know what
he means by “sacrifices,” why they are important, what they meant,
so all we require is details. He will deal with Josephus, Philo, the
Mishnah, and Leviticus and Numbers. Does he then tell us the dis-
tinctive viewpoint of each? Not at all. All he wants us to know is the
facts common to them all. Hence his problem is not one of descrip-
tion, analysis, and interpretation of documents, but a conflation of
the information contained in each that he deems usable. Since that is
his principal concern, he discusses “sacrifice” by telling us why the
Mishnah’s information is useless, except when it is usable. But Sand-
14 introduction

ers never suggests to his readers what the Mishnah’s discussion of

sacrifice wishes to find out, or how its ideas on the subject may prove
religiously engaging. It is just a rule book, so it has no ideas on the
subject—so maintains Sanders. Philo is then set forth. Here too we
are told why he tells us nothing, but not what he tells us. Then there
follows the facts, the indented “with regard to” paragraphs.
Sanders did not have to tell us all about how Leviticus, Numbers,
Philo and Josephus and the Mishnah concur, then about how we
may ignore or must cite the several documents respectively, if his sole
intent was to tell us the facts of the “with regard to” paragraphs. And
how he knows that “sacrifices were conceived…,” who conceived
them in this way, and what sense the words made, “worship of and
communion with God, glorification of him, thanksgiving, purifica-
tion, atonement for sin, and feasting,” and to whom they made sense,
and how other Judaisms, besides the Judaism portrayed by Philo,
Josephus, the Mishnah, and so on and so forth, viewed sacrifices, or
the Temple as it was—none of this is set forth. The conflation has its
own purpose, which the following outline of the remainder of the
chapter reveals: community sacrifices; individual sacrifices (“Neither
Josephus, Philo, nor other first-century Jews thought that burnt offer-
ings provided God with food…”), a family at the Temple, an exam-
ple; the daily Temple routine. In this mass of information on a sub-
ject, one question is lost: what it all meant. Sanders really does
suppose that he is telling us how things were, what people did, and,
in his stress on a common-denominator Judaism, he finds it entirely
reasonable to bypass all questions of analysis and interpretation and
so forgets to tell us what it all meant. His language, “worship of and
communion with God, glorification of him, thanksgiving, purifica-
tion, atonement for sin, and feasting”—that Protestant formulation
begs every question and answers none.
But this common denominator Judaism yields little that is more
than simply banal, for “common theology,” e.g., “The history of
Israel in general, and of our period in particular, shows that Jews
believed that the one God of the universe had given them his law and
that they were to obey it” (p. 240). No one, obviously, can disagree,
but what applies to everyone equally, in a nation so riven with divi-
sion and rich in diversity, also cannot make much of a difference.
That is to say, knowing that they all were monotheists or valued the
Hebrew Scriptures (but which passages he does not identify, how he
read them he does not say) does not tell us more than we knew about
 four approaches to the description of ancient judaism 15

the religion of those diverse people than before. Sanders knows what
people thought, because anything any Jew wrote tells us what “Jews”
or most Jews or people in general thought. What makes Sanders’
representation questionable is that he proceeds to cite as evidence of
what “Jews” thought opinions of Philo and Josephus, the Dead Sea
Scrolls, Rabbinic Literature, and so on and so forth. The generality
of scholarship understands that the Dead Sea Scrolls represent their
writers, Philo speaks for Philo, Josephus says what he thinks, and the
Mishnah is whatever it is and is not whatever it is not.
To my knowledge no one until Sanders has come to the judgment
that anything any Jew thought has to have been in the mind of all the
other Jews. That is to treat the religion as a function of the sociology
and culture of an ethnic group. It is another way of saying that there
was (and is) no such thing as a religion, Judaism. There are only Jews,
and the sum and substance of their opinions, if any, on topics gener-
ally regarded as religious comprise “Judaism.” Then, for Sanders, all
the Jews thought one and the same thing, and what they all thought
was this religion, Judaism. The result appears to present a caricature
of both Judaism and also the study of religion.
But it is only with that premise that we can understand the con-
nections Sanders makes and the conclusions about large, general
topics that he reaches. His juxtapositions are in fact beyond all un-
derstanding. Let me skim through his treatment of graven images,
which captures the flavor of the whole:
Comments by Philo and Josephus show how Jews could interpret other
objects symbolically and thus make physical depictions acceptable, so
that they were not seen as transgressions of one of the Ten Command-
ments, but as symbols of the glory of the God who gave them.
There follows a reference to War 5:214. Then Sanders proceeds:
Josephus, as did Philo, found astral and other symbolism in many other
things...
Some paragraphs later, in the same context, we have:
The sun was personified and worshipped.… The most important in-
stance was when Josiah...instituted a reform of worship...[now with ref-
erence to 2 Kings 23:4f]. This is usually regarded as having been a
decisive rejection of other deities, but elements derived from sun wor-
ship continued. Subsequently Ezekiel attacked those who turned “their
backs to the Temple of the Lord...” (Ez. 8:16). According to the
Mishnah, at one point during the feast of Booths priests “turned their
faces to the west,” recalling that their predecessors had faced east and
16 introduction

worshipped the sun and proclaimed that “our eyes are turned toward
the Lord” (Sukkah 5:4). Despite this, the practice that Ezekiel con-
demned was continued by some. Josephus wrote that the Essenes ‘are
particularly reverent towards the divinity.…
This is continued with a citation of the Qumran Temple Scroll and
then the Tosefta:
That the Essenes really offered prayer to the sun is made more probable
by a passage in the Qumran Temple Scroll.
Above we noted the floor of the synagogue at Hammath that had as
its main decoration the signs of the zodiac in a circle.… This synagogue
floor, with its blatant pagan decoration, was built at the time when
rabbinic Judaism was strong in Galilee—after the redaction and publi-
cation of the Mishnah, during the years when the material in the
Tosefta and the Palestinian Talmud was being produced and edited.
According to the Tosefta, Rabbi Judah, who flourished in the middle of
the second century, said that ‘If anyone says a blessing over the sun—
this is a heterodox practice (T. Berakhot 6[7].6 In the light of the floor,
it seems he was opposing contemporary practice.
Such “harmony yields chaos. And so, we think, would a “harmony”
of the diverse views of death and life after death that are set forth in
this book.

iii. Theological: The Dogmatic Judaism of Moore, Urbach,

and Sanders (1977)

Among numerous descriptions of Rabbinic Judaism, or of ancient

Judaism in general, that organize themselves around theological top-
ics, ordinarily Protestant Christian theological categories, three serve
to illustrate the state of the question, the first and most influential,
George F. Moore’s, the Israeli version, Ephraim E. Urbach’s, and the
American model, E.P. Sanders in the initial statement of his views.
The source of the category-formation for all three is uniform. First, it
does not derive from the documents of Rabbinic Judaism, which do
not focus on the points of main concern to the theological dogmatics
of Protestant Christianity that govern. Second, it does raise questions
important to Pauline Christianity but hardly critical to Rabbinic or
any other Judaism of this time. All three moreover claim to provide
a historical description, but read the sources in an uncritical manner,
believing all the attributions and treating as fact all the fables of all
the Rabbinic documents, without discrimination.
 four approaches to the description of ancient judaism 17

Judaism in the First Centuries of the Christian Era. The Age of the Tannaim. By
George Foot Moore. Cambridge, 1927: Harvard University Press.
I-III.

Moore’s description of “Judaism” invokes standard Protestant cat-

egories of dogmatic theology. Moore fails to tell us of whom he
wishes to speak. So his repertoire of sources for the description of
“Judaism” in the “age of the Tannaim” is awry. He makes use of
sources that speak of people assumed to have lived in the early cen-
turies C.E., even when said sources derive from a much later or a
much earlier time. What generates this error is the problem of deal-
ing with a category asymmetrical to the evidence. That is, an essen-
tially philosophical-theological construct, an “ism,” “Judaism,” is
imposed upon wildly diverse evidence deriving from many kinds of
social groups and testifying to the state of mind and way of life of
many sorts of Jews, who in their own day would scarcely have under-
stood one another (for instance, Bar Kokhba and Josephus, or the
Teacher of Righteousness and Aqiba).
So for Moore, as for the others who have described “Judaism”
solely in terms of theological dogmas without reference to the time,
place, and circumstance of those who framed these dogmas,
“Judaism” is a problem of ideas, and the history of Judaism is the
history of ideas abstracted from the groups that held them and from
the social perspectives of said groups. This seems to me a fundamen-
tal error, making the category “Judaism” a construct of a wholly
fantastic realm of thought: a fantasy, we mean. What is wrong with
the philosophical-theological description of “Judaism” is not only the
failure to correlate ideas with the world of the people who wrote the
books that contain those ideas. There are problems of a historical,
and history-of-religions, character.
Moore’s work to begin with is not really a work in the history of
religions at all—in this instance, the developmental and formative
history of a particular brand of Judaism. His research is in theology,
and there is no social foundation for the theology he describes. The
description of Judaism is organized in theological categories. Moore
presents a synthetic account of diverse materials, focused upon a
given topic of theological interest. There is nothing even rhetorically
historical in the picture of opinions on these topics, no pretense of
systematically accounting for development and change. What is con-
structed is a static exercise in dogmatic theology, not an account of
18 introduction

the history of religious ideas and—still more urgent—their unfolding

in relationship to the society of the people who held those ideas.
Moore in no way describes and interprets the religious worldview
and way of life expressed, in part, through the ideas under study. He
does not explore the interplay between that worldview and the his-
torical and political context of the community envisioned by that
construction of a world. So far as history attends to the material
context of ideas and the class structure expressed by ideas and insti-
tutions alike, so far as ideas are deemed part of a larger social system
and religious systems are held to be pertinent to the given political,
social, and economic framework which contains them, Moore’s ac-
count of dogmatic theology to begin with has nothing to do with
religious history, that is the history of Judaism in the first two centu-
ries of the Common Era.
Moore describes the Judaism his sources set forth as “normative.”
So far as that represents a descriptive, not an evaluative, judgment,
Moore simply does not make the case. A brilliant critique of his view
appeared in 1927, in the review of the work by F.C. Porter. Here is
what he says:
The Judaism which Professor Moore describes with such wealth of
learning is that of the end of the second century of our era, and the
sources which he uses are those that embody the interpretations and
formulations of the law by the rabbis, chiefly from the fall of Jerusalem,
70 A.D., to the promulgation of the Mishnah of the Patriarch Judah,
about 200 A.D. When Moore speaks of the sources which Judaism has
always regarded as authentic, he means “always” from the third century
A.D. onward. It is a proper and needed task to exhibit the religious
conceptions and moral principles, the observances, and the piety of the
Judaism of the Tannaim. Perhaps it is the things that most needed to be
done of all the many labors that must contribute to our knowledge of
that age. But Professor Moore calls this Judaism “normative”; and
means by this, not only authoritative for Jews after the work of the
Tannaim had reached its completion in the Mishnah, but normal or
authentic in the sense that it is the only direct and natural outcome of
the Old Testament religion. It seems therefore, that the task here under-
taken is not only, as it certainly is, a definite, single, and necessary one,
but that other things hardly need doing, and do not signify much for the
Judaism of the age of Christian beginnings. The book is not called, as it
might have been, “The Judaism of the Tannaim,” but Judaism in the
First Centuries of the Christian Era: The Age of the Tannaim. Was
there then no other type of Judaism in the time of Christ that may claim
such names as “normative,” “normal,” “orthodox”? The time of Deu-
teronomy was also the time of Jeremiah. The religion of revelation in a
 four approaches to the description of ancient judaism 19

divinely given written law stood over against the religion of revelation in
the heart and living words of a prophet. The conviction was current
after Ezra that the age of prophecy had ended; the Spirit of God had
withdrawn itself from Israel (I, 237). But if prophecy should live again,
could it not claim to be normal in Judaism? Where, in the centuries
after Ezra, are we to look for the lines of development that go back, not
to Ezra and Deuteronomy, but to Jeremiah and Isaiah? R.H. Charles
claims the genuine succession for his Apocalypses. The Pharisees at
least had the prophets in their canon, and it is claimed by many, and by
Moore, that the rabbis were not less familiar with the prophets than
with the Pentateuch, and even that they had “fully assimilated” the
teaching of the prophets as to the value of the cultus (II, 13), and that
their conception of revealed religion “resulted no less from the teaching
of the prophets than from the possession of the Law” (I, 235). Christians
see prophecy coming back to Judaism in John the Baptist and in Jesus,
and find in Paul the new experience that revelation is giving in a per-
son, not in a book, and inwardly to each one through the in-dwelling
Spirit of God, as Jeremiah had hoped (31:31-34). And now, finally,
liberal Judaism claims to be authentic and normal Judaism because it
takes up the lines that Jeremiah laid down.
It would require more proof than Professor Moore has given in his
section on “History” to justify his claim that the only movements that
need to be traced as affecting religion are these that lead from Ezra to
Hillel and Johanan ben Zakkai and Akiba and Judah the Prince. Great
events happened during the three centuries from Antiochus IV to
Hadrian, events which deeply affected Judaism as a religion. But of
these events and their influence Moore has little to say. It is in connec-
tion with these events that the Apocalypses were written.
A proper description, by contrast, should invoke considerations of
social circumstance and context, so as to yield a Judaism portrayed
within a specific, socially-circumscribed corpus of evidence.
Porter’s second criticism of Moore seems to me still more telling.
He points out that Moore ignores the entire legal corpus, so that his
“Judaism” builds upon categories alien, and not native, to the sources
at hand. A principal flaw in theological description, affecting not only
Moore, but the others who follow, flows from a category-formation
awry to the sources; the category-formation is that of Protestant
Christianity, not Rabbinic Judaism. This is how Porter states matters:
In [Moore’s] actual exposition of the normative, orthodox Judaism of
the age of the Tannaim comparatively little place is given to Halakah.
One of the seven parts of his exposition is on observances; and here
cultus, circumcision, Sabbath, festivals, fasts, taxation, and interdictions
are summarily dealt with; but the other six parts deal in detail with the
religion and ethics, the piety and hopes, of Judaism, matters about
20 introduction

which the Haggada supplies most of the material, and for which au-
thority and finality are not claimed. The tannaite (halakic) Midrash
(Mechilta, etc.) contains a good deal of Haggada together with its
halakic exegesis, and these books Moore values as the most important
of his sources (I, 135ff.; II, 80). The principles of religion and morals do
indeed control the interpretation of certain laws, so that Halakah is
sometimes a source for such teachings, and “is in many instances of the
highest value as evidence of the way and measure in which great ethical
principles have been tacitly impressed on whole fields of the traditional
law” (I, 134). This sounds as if the ethical implications constituted the
chief value of the Mishnah for Moore’s purposes. But these are not its
chief contents. It is made up, as a whole, of opinions or decisions about
the minutiae of law observance. It constructs a hedge of definitions and
restrictions meant to protect the letter of the law from violation, to
make its observance possible and practicable under all circumstances,
and to bring all of life under its rule....
The Jewish scholar, Perles, in a pamphlet with which Moore is in
sympathy, criticized Bousset, in Die Religion des Judentums, for using
only books such as Bacher’s, on the Haggada, and for expressing a
preference for haggadic sources; whereas the Halakah in its unity, in its
definitive and systematic form, and its deeper grasp upon life is much
better fitted to supply the basis of the structures of a history of the
Jewish religion. Moore agrees with Perles’ criticism of Bousset’s prefer-
ence for the later, haggadic, Midrashim; but it is not because they are
halakic that he gives the first place to the early Midrash. “It is this
religious and moral element by the side of the interpretation of the laws,
and pervading it as a principle, that gives these works [Mechilta, etc.]
their chief value to us” (I, 135). Perles insists on the primary importance
of the Halakah, not only because it shows here and there the influence
of prophetic ethics, but because throughout as it stands, it is the princi-
pal work of the rabbis, and the work which alone has the character of
authority, and because, concerned as it is with ritual, cultus, and the law
(Recht), it has decisive influence upon the whole of life. This applies
peculiarly to the religion of the Tannaim. The Haggada neither begins
nor ends with them, so that Bousset ought not, Perles thinks, to have
used exclusively Bacher’s work on the Haggada of the Tannaim, but
also his volumes on the Haggada of the Amoraim, as well as the anony-
mous Haggada which Bacher did not live to publish. It is only in the
region of the Halakah that the Tannaim have a distinctive place and
epoch-making significance, since the Mishnah, the fundamental text of
the Talmud, was their creation.
Would Perles be satisfied, then, with Moore’s procedure? Would he
think it enough that Halakah proper, observances, should occupy one
part in seven in an exposition of the Judaism of the Tannaim, consider-
ing that in their classical and distinctive work Halakah practically fills
sixty-two out of sixty-three parts? Moore agrees with Perles that there is
no essential distinction between earlier and later Haggada (I, 163), and
 four approaches to the description of ancient judaism 21

that the teachings of the Tannaim about God and man, morals and
piety, sin, repentance, and forgiveness are not only also the teachings of
the later Amoraim, but run backward, too, without essential change
into the Old Testament itself. There is no point at which freedom and
variety of opinion and belief, within the bounds, to be sure, of certain
fundamental principles, came to an end, and a proper orthodoxy of
dogma was set up. But orthodoxy of conduct, of observance, did reach
this stage of finality and authority in the Mishnah; and the tannaite
rabbis were those who brought this about. It is in accordance with
Moore’s chief interests in haggadic teachings that he does not confine
himself to sayings of the Tannaim, but also quotes freely from the
Amoraim; how freely may be seen by the list that ends Index IV.
Professor Moore’s emphasis upon his purpose to present normative
Judaism, definitive, authoritative, orthodox, would lead one to expect
that he would give the chief place to those “juridic definitions and
decisions of the Halakah” to which alone, as he himself sometimes says,
these adjectives strictly apply. We should look for more about the
Mishnah itself, about its systematic arrangement of the laws, its meth-
ods of argument and of bringing custom and tradition into connection
with the written law, and more of its actual contents and total charac-
ter, of those actual rules of life, that “uniformity of observance” which
constituted the distinction of the Judaism of the rabbis.
It is not possible to improve on Porter’s critique. The halakhic mate-
rials address the issues of the social order in relationship to the intel-
lectual structure and system of the documents themselves. Neglecting
the contents and categories of the legal documents, the Mishnah,
Tosefta, Yerushalmi, and Babli, results in ignoring of the social con-
text of a religious structure and system. For the law deals precisely
with that—the construction of society, the formation of a rational,
public way of life. The history of a religion should tell how a religion
took shape and describe its concern for a relationship to the concrete
historical context in which that religion comes to full expression.
These simply are not topics that form part of the hermeneutical
framework of Moore’s book.
The critical issue is the relationship between a religion, i.e., the
worldview and way of life of a coherent social group, and history, i.e.,
the material, economic, and political circumstance of that same social
group. This history in Moore simply is not addressed. True, the
history of a religion and the dogmatics of that religion are going to
relate to one another. But a description of dogmatics of seven centu-
ries or more and an account of the contents thereof simply do not
constitute a history of the religion which comes to formal ideological
expression in dogmatic theology. So Moore did not do what the title
22 introduction

of his book and of his professorship (“professor of the history of

religion”) promises, even though in his work he discusses numerous
matters bearing historical implication. Moore’s failure flows from two
contradictory facts. First, he believes everything he reads, so his “his-
tory” is gullible. Second, he forgets the work of historians, which is to
tell us not only exactly how things were, but why. His history is not
history, and anyhow, it lacks all historical context.

The Sages. Their Concepts and Beliefs. By Ephraim E. Urbach. Trans-

lated from the Hebrew by Israel Abrahams. Jerusalem: The Magnes
Press, The Hebrew University, 1975. Two volumes—I. Text: pp. xxii
and 692. II. Notes: pp. 383.

Ephraim E. Urbach, the late professor of Talmud at the Hebrew

University and author of numerous articles and books on the Talmud
and later Rabbinic literature, here presents a compendious work in-
tended “to describe the concepts and beliefs of the Tannaim and
Amoraim and to elucidate them against the background of their
actual life and environment.” The work before us has been accu-
rately described by M.D. Heer (Encyclopaedia Judaica 16:4): “He
[Urbach] outlines the views of the rabbis on the important theologi-
cal issues such as creation, providence, and the nature of man. In this
work Urbach synthesizes the voluminous literature on these subjects
and presents the views of the talmudic authorities.”
The topics are as follows: belief in one God; the presence of God
in the world; “nearness and distance—Omnipresent and heaven;”
the power of God; magic and miracle; the power of the divine name;
the celestial retinue; creation; man; providence; written law and oral
law; the commandments; acceptance of the yoke of the kingdom of
heaven; sin, reward, punishment, suffering, etc.; the people of Israel
and its sages, a chapter which encompasses the election of Israel, the
status of the sages in the days of the Hasmoneans, Hillel, the regime
of the sages after the destruction of the Temple, and so on; and
redemption. The several chapters, like the work as a whole, are or-
ganized systematically, consisting of sayings and stories relevant to
the theme under discussion, together with Urbach’s episodic observa-
tions and comments on them. It is clear that he has taken over, but
improved upon, the description of “Judaism” as dogmatic theology
set forth by Moore.
Urbach’s categories, like Moore’s, come to him from dogmatic
 four approaches to the description of ancient judaism 23

theology, not from the sources on which he works. For let us ask,
does the worldview of the talmudic sages emerge in a way that the
ancient sages themselves would have recognized? From the viewpoint
of their organization and description of reality, their worldview, it is
certain that the sages would have organized their card-files quite
differently. We know that is the case because we do not have, among
the chapters before us, a single one that focuses upon the theme of
one of the orders, let alone tractates, within which the rabbis divided
and presented their various statements on reality, e.g., Seeds, the
material basis of life; Seasons, the organization and differentiation of
time; Women, the status of the individual; Damages, the conduct of
civil life including government; Holy Things, the material service of
God; and Purities, the immaterial base of divine reality in this world.
The matter concerns not merely the superficial problem of organiz-
ing vast quantities of data. The talmudic rabbis left a large and
exceedingly complex, well-integrated legacy of law. Clearly, it is
through that legacy that they intended to make their fundamental
statements upon the organization and meaning of reality. An account
of their concepts and beliefs that ignores nearly the whole of the
halakhah surely is slightly awry. How Porter will have reviewed
Urbach’s book is readily imagined: he would have said of Urbach
exactly what he said of Moore, with the further observation that
Israeli Orthodox Judaism should produce greater appreciation for
the halakhic embodiment of theology than Urbach here shows.
Not only so, but Urbach’s “Judaism” is, to say the least, eclectic.
And it is not historical in any conventional sense. Urbach’s selection
of sources for analysis is both narrowly canonical and somewhat
confusing. We often hear from Philo, but seldom from the Essene
Library of Qumran, still more rarely from the diverse works assem-
bled by R.H. Charles (and vastly expanded in the modern edition
organized and edited by James Charlesworth) as the apocrypha and
pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament, and the like. If we seek to
describe the talmudic rabbis, surely we cannot ask Philo to testify to
their opinions. If we listen to Philo, surely we ought to hear—at least
for the purpose of comparison and contrast—from books written by
Palestinian Jews of various kinds. The Targumim are allowed no
place at all because they are deemed “late.” But documents that
came to redaction much later than the several Targumim (by any
estimate of the date of the latter) make rich and constant contribu-
tions to the discussion.
24 introduction

Within a given chapter, the portrayal of the sources will move

rapidly from biblical to Tannaitic to Amoraic sources, as though the
line of development were single, unitary, incremental, and harmoni-
ous, and as though there were no intervening developments that
shaped later conceptions. The uniformities are not only temporal.
There is no differentiation within or among the sayings Urbach ad-
duces in evidence: all of them speak equally authoritatively for “the
sages.” Urbach takes with utmost seriousness his title, the sages, their
concepts and beliefs, and his “history,” topic by topic, reveals re-
markably little variation, development, or even movement. That is
because his skill at organization and arrangement of materials tends
to outrun his interest in differentiation and comparison within and
among them, let alone in the larger, sequential history of major ideas
and their growth and coherent development over the centuries. One
looks in vain for Urbach’s effort to justify treating “the sages” as
essentially a coherent and timeless group.
Readers will hardly find surprising the judgment that Urbach’s
“history” is uncritical. He never deals with the question, how do we
know that what is attributed in a given document, often redacted
centuries after the events of which it speaks, to a named authority
really was said by him? Yet we must ask, if a saying is assigned to an
ancient authority, how do we know that he really said it? If a story is
told, how do we know that the events the story purports to describe
actually took place? And if not, just what are we to make of said story
and saying for historical purposes? Further, if we have a saying attrib-
uted to a first-century authority in a document generally believed to
have been redacted five hundred or a thousand years later, how do
we know that the attribution of the saying is valid, and that the
saying informs us of the state of opinion in the first century, not only
in the sixth or eleventh in which it was written down and obviously
believed true and authoritative? Do we still hold, as an axiom of
historical scholarship, ein muqdam umeuhar (“temporal considerations
do not apply”)—in the Talmud?! And again, do not the sayings
assigned to a first-century authority, redacted in documents deriving
from the early third century, possess greater credibility than those
first appearing in documents redacted in the fifth, tenth, or even
fifteenth centuries? Should we not, on the face of it, distinguish be-
tween more and less reliable materials? The well-known tendency of
medieval writers to put their opinions into the mouths of the an-
cients, as in the case of the Zohar, surely warns us to be cautious
 four approaches to the description of ancient judaism 25

about using documents redacted, even formulated, five hundred or a

thousand or more years after the events of which they speak. Urbach
ignores all of these questions and the work of those who ask them.
The result is a reprise of Moore: not history but dogmatic theology.
But the theology is not done the right way, because it is in the end
not theology at all, but a mere filling in of the blanks: doctrine of this,
these sayings, doctrine of that, those sayings. The work of theological
analysis is not undertaken, because Moore, though doing theology,
thought of himself as a historian.

Paul and Palestinian Judaism. A Comparison of Patterns of Religion. By E.P.

Sanders. London: SCM Press, 1977. Pp. xviii+627.

So far as Sanders’s earlier book has a polemical charge, it is to

demonstrate (pp. 420-21) that “the fundamental nature of the cov-
enant conception...largely accounts for the relative scarcity of appear-
ances of the term ‘covenant’ in Rabbinic literature. The covenant
was presupposed, and the Rabbinic discussions were largely directed
toward the question of how to fulfill the covenantal obligations.” This
proposition is then meant to disprove the conviction (“all but univer-
sally held”) that Judaism is a degeneration of the Old Testament
view: “The once noble idea of covenant as offered by God’s grace
and obedience as the consequence of that gracious gift degenerated
into the idea of petty legalism, according to which one had to earn
the mercy of God by minute observance of irrelevant ordinances.”
Once more, issues of Protestant theological concern govern the cat-
egory-formation for a book on Judaisms.
Still, what Sanders did wrong in his 1992 work, he did right in his
1977 book. That is, he differentiated carefully among the diverse
Judaisms. He isolated the evidence pertinent to group. Then he de-
scribed them one by one, every Judaism in its own terms. There is no
better systematic reading of the Judaism of the Dead Sea Scrolls than
his. Given the enormous problem of determining the social founda-
tions of the documents collected in the Apocrypha and
Pseudepigrapha, moreover, his account of that Judaic system (if it is
a single system at all, subject to coherent description) is plausible and
worth serious attention. Thus his “Palestinian Judaism” is presented
through three bodies of evidence, described, quite properly and intel-
ligently, one by one: Tannaitic literature, the Dead Sea Scrolls, and
Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha, in that order. The excellence of this
26 introduction

earlier work lies in its explicit recognition that we may describe

“Judaisms,” each Judaic system attested by its own canonical writ-
ings. Here is no single, unitary, incremental, harmonious, lowest-
common-denominator “Judaism,” such as Sanders in 1992 has given
us.
But as we saw at the outset, the work on the model of Moore and
Urbach still is organized around Protestant Christian theological cat-
egories. To each set of sources, Sanders addresses questions of sys-
tematic theology: election and covenant, obedience and disobedi-
ence, reward and punishment and the world to come, salvation by
membership in the covenant and atonement, proper religious
behavior (so for Tannaitic sources); covenant and the covenant peo-
ple, election and predestination, the commandments, fulfillment and
transgression, atonement (Dead Sea Scrolls); election and covenant,
the fate of the individual Israelite, atonement, commandments, the
basis of salvation, the gentiles, repentance and atonement, the right-
eousness of God (Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha, meaning, specifi-
cally: Ben Sira, I Enoch, Jubilees, Psalms of Solomon, IV Ezra).
This is not to suggest that Sanders’s covenantal nomism is a fabri-
cation of his own; on the contrary, the datum he proposes can cer-
tainly be shown to accord with sayings here and there. At issue is
whether he has formed a judgment of proportion and consequences.
Is this issue the generative concern, the governing consideration, in
the Judaic systems the documents of which Sanders reads? Sanders’
search for patterns yields a common pattern in “covenantal
nomism,” which, in general, emerges as follows (p. 422):
The “pattern” or “structure” of covenantal nomism is this: (1) God has
chosen Israel and (2) given the law. The law implies both (3) God’s
promise to maintain the election and (4) the requirement to obey. (5)
God rewards obedience and punishes transgression. (6) The law pro-
vides for means of atonement, and atonement results in (7) maintenance
or re-establishment of the covenantal relationship. (8) All those who are
maintained in the covenant by obedience, atonement, and God’s mercy
belong to the group which will be saved. An important interpretation of
the first and last points is that election and ultimately salvation are
considered to be by God’s mercy rather than human achievement.
Anyone familiar with Jewish liturgy will be at home in that state-
ment. Even though the evidence on the character of Palestinian
Judaism derives from diverse groups and reaches us through various
means, Sanders argues that covenantal nomism was “the basic type
of religion known by Jesus and presumably by Paul….” And again,
 four approaches to the description of ancient judaism 27

“covenantal nomism must have been the general type of religion

prevalent in Palestine before the destruction of the Temple.” But
whether the various Judaisms of the time and place will have found
in these ideas the center of their statement, whether this common
denominator really formed the paramount agenda of thought and of
piety, is a different question.
My account of Rabbinic Judaism answers that question in the
negative; Rabbinic Judaism had other concerns than those of Protes-
tant Christianity; it solved other problems; its theology and law made
a statement that attended to different issues altogether, even though,
on the issue important to Sanders, the writers can have concurred,
casually and tangentially, with what he thought they should think on
the questions critical to his polemic. That is how Sanders imposes on
his evidence a Liberal Protestant theological agendum, defending his
particular Judaism from Protestant condemnation. Accordingly, he
simply does not come to Rabbinic Judaism to uncover the issues of
Rabbinic Judaism.
He brings to the Rabbinic sources the issues of Pauline scholarship
and Paul. This blatant trait of his work, which begins, after all, with
a long account of Christian anti-Judaism (“The persistence of the
view of Rabbinic religion as one of legalistic works-righteousness,”
pp. 33-58), hardly requires amplification. In fact, Sanders does not
really undertake the systemic description of earlier Rabbinic Judaism
in terms of its critical tension. True, he isolates those documents he
thinks may testify to the state of opinion in the late first and second
centuries. But Sanders does not describe Rabbinic Judaism through
the systemic categories yielded by its principal documents.
While we think he is wholly correct in maintaining the importance
of the conceptions of covenant and of grace, the polemic in behalf of
Rabbinic legalism as covenantal does not bring to the fore what
Rabbinic sources themselves wish to take as their principal theme
and generative problem. For them, as he says, covenantal nomism is
a datum. So far as Sanders proposes to demonstrate the importance
to all the kinds of ancient Judaism of covenantal nomism, election,
atonement, and the like, his work must be pronounced a success but
trivial. So far as he claims to effect systemic description of Rabbinic
Judaism (“a comparison of patterns of religion”), we have to evaluate
that claim in its own terms.
The Mishnah certainly is the first document of Rabbinic Judaism.
Formally, it stands at the center of the system, since the principal
28 introduction

subsequent Rabbinic documents, the Talmuds, lay themselves out as

if they were exegeses of Mishnah (or, more accurately, of Mishnah-
Tosefta). It follows that an account of what Mishnah is about, of the
system expressed by Mishnah and of the worldview created and sus-
tained therein, should be required for systemic comparison such as
Sanders proposes. Now if we come to Mishnah with questions of
Pauline-Lutheran theology, important to Sanders and New Testa-
ment scholarship, we find ourselves on the peripheries of Mishnaic
literature and its chief foci. True, the Mishnah contains a very few
relevant, accessible sayings, for example, on election and covenant.
But on our hands is a huge document that does not wish to tell us
much about election and covenant and that does wish to speak about
other things. Sanders’s earlier work is profoundly flawed by the cat-
egory-formation that he imposes on his sources; that distorts and
misrepresents the Judaic system of those sources. To show that Sand-
ers’s agendum has not been shaped out of the issues of Rabbinic
theology, we shall now adduce negative evidence on whether Sanders
with equal care analyzes the inner structure of a document of Rab-
binic Judaism.
Throughout his “constructive” discussions of Rabbinic ideas about
theology, Sanders quotes all documents equally with no effort at
differentiation among them. He seems to have culled sayings from
the diverse sources he has chosen and written them down on cards,
which he proceeded to organize around his critical categories. Then
he has constructed his paragraphs and sections by flipping through
those cards and commenting on this and that. So there is no context
in which a given saying is important in its own setting, in its own
document.
The diverse Rabbinic documents require study in their own terms;
the claim to have presented an account of “the Rabbis” and their
opinions is not demonstrated. We hardly need dwell on the fact that
Sanders has not shown how systemic comparison is possible when
the issues of one document, or of one system of which a document is
a part, are simply not the same as the issues of some other document
or system; he is oblivious to all documentary variations and differ-
ences of viewpoint. That is, while he has succeeded in finding Rab-
binic sayings on topics of central importance to Paul (or Pauline
theology), he has ignored the context and authentic character of the
setting in which he has found these sayings and has not even asked
whether these sayings form the center and core of the Rabbinic
 four approaches to the description of ancient judaism 29

system or even of a given Rabbinic document. To state matters sim-

ply, How do we know that “the Rabbis” and Paul are talking about
the same thing, so that we may compare what they have to say? And
if it should turn out that “the Rabbis” and Paul are not talking about
the same thing, then what is it that we have to compare? We think,
nothing at all. But if Sanders’s results prove flawed, his basic ap-
proach—treat each Judaism in its own terms—does match the chal-
lenge of this book.

iv. Historical: The Documentary Description of Rabbinic

Judaism

Clearly, prior descriptions of Rabbinic Judaism are characterized by

one or more of these flaws:
[1] Earlier scholars ignore the task of describing the sources, that is
to say, the documents, their traits and perspectives. Documentary
analysis is commonplace in Tanakh scholarship, J, E, P, and D rarely
being invited to testify in common to a unitary account of the histori-
cal unity of the Torah, for example. No picture of Pentateuchal
religion comprised of a harmony of the sources, or the lowest com-
mon denominator among the sources, or a sum of all sources, is apt
to gain a solemn hearing in biblical studies. In New Testament schol-
arship it is routine to recognize that Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John
formulated distinctive statements, and nobody harmonizes sayings
from this, that, and the other gospel into a harmonious account of
what Jesus really said. We doubt that a “Christianity” written the
way Sanders has written his two “Judaisms” will exercise much influ-
ence.
[2] They take for granted the historicity of stories and sayings. The
critical-historical program of the nineteenth century has made no
impact at all. We challenge Cohen and Sanders to point to a single
work in ancient Israelite history that uses scriptural sources the way
they use Rabbinic ones. In New Testament scholarship people rou-
tinely call into question the historicity of sayings and stories and
devise methods for distinguishing the authentic from the fabricated.
[3] But they all ignore the historical setting and context in which
the ideas of a given “Judaism” took place. The social-historical pro-
gram of the twentieth century humanities, with its interest in the
relationship between text and context, idea and the circumstance of
30 introduction

those who held that idea, has contributed nothing. So ideas exist
disembodied, out of all relationship to the lives of those who held
them or later on preserved the documents that present them.
[4] And they all invoke for their category-formations classifications
alien to the sources, instead of allowing the documents to dictate
their own generative and definitive categories of thought and inquiry.
Categories, the sense of proportion and of structure and order, are
lifted from one world and parachuted down upon the data of an-
other. The recognition that one category-formation cannot be im-
posed upon the data of a different culture—surely commonplace
among historians of all periods, aware as they are of anachronism—
has yet to register. The program of cultural anthropology has not
made a mark. That is why we can insist the rabbis of the Mishnah
tell us their views concerning propositions important to Paul, even
though they may have said nothing on the topics to which Paul
accorded critical importance.
Now to turn to the documentary approach used in this book,
which provides a solution to these problems.
[1] It asks about the circumstances, traits, and generative problem-
atic of the several writings that attest to forms of Judaism. In that
way, each document is read in its own terms and setting.
[2] This method dismisses as not subject to falsification or verifica-
tion attributions of sayings to named masters, allowing documents as
wholes to speak of the period in which they were composed.
[3] But, treating the document as irrefutable evidence of the view-
point of those who compiled it, the documentary method asks about
the context in which a given document’s contents found conse-
quence.
[4] And the documentary method formulates issues as these are
defined by the respective documents: their concerns, their problem-
atic, their categorical structure and system. It further proceeds to the
question of how several documents relate to one another, in the
aspects of autonomy, connection, and continuity, as we shall explain.
The pictures of the Judaisms given here provide a history of ideas
based on the sequence of documents and their intellectual relation-
ships. It goes without saying that each author relies for facts concern-
ing a given time and its issues upon the character of the documents,
not on the attributions of sayings or the narratives of stories alleged to
have been said or to have taken place at a given time prior to the
closure of the document itself. The result is description of one aspect
 four approaches to the description of ancient judaism 31

of Judaism, the theory of death and life after death, that pays close
attention to the formulation of distinct sets of ideas at determinate
times and in specific contexts. Readers will judge for themselves the
utility of the four models set forth here.
 I.

THE LEGACY OF SCRIPTURE

 1. DEATH AND AFTERLIFE: THE BIBLICAL SILENCE

Richard Elliott Friedman

University of California, San Diego
and
Shawna Dolansky Overton
University of California, San Diego

We have few unquestionable references to life after death in the

Hebrew Bible. Our problem, though, is not only that we have so little
to go on. The problem is also that this silence on such a common
concern of religion is mysterious itself. We know that ancient Israel’s
religion was monotheistic, though we may debate exactly when that
monotheism began. We know that it had a hereditary priesthood, a
link between religion and law, a concept of divine-human covenant,
and doctrines concerning patriarchs who migrated to the land from
Mesopotamia and of slavery and exodus from Egypt. We know that
it involved circumcision, animal sacrifice, forbidden and permitted
animals, seasonal holidays, a sabbath, a Temple, opposition to idols,
and the composition of sacred texts. Despite limitations of sources
and the distance in time, we know a variety of facts, central and
peripheral about the Israelites’ religion. Yet we have been uncertain
about what they—from the person in the street to the High Priest—
believed happens after death. Though belief in an afterlife was part of
Mesopotamian religion to the east and is probably the most famous
aspect of Egyptian religion to the west, it has been an enigma for
Israel. The average Jewish or Christian layperson today has no idea
what ancient Israelites believed; and scholars are uncertain, being
dependent on relatively few passages from the text, which we have
barely begun to study systematically.
It is not as if death were an uncommon occurrence in ancient
Israelites’ experience. Men’s average survival was only in the forties.
Women’s was in the thirties. Women’s death in childbirth was almost
fifty percent. Anyone who would reach middle age would have lost
most of his or her immediate family. Death was so common, so
familiar. Why, then, are there so few texts showing any interest in
humans’ fate after dying?
It would almost be better if there were no texts at all. Then we
36 r.e. friedman and s.d. overton

could conceive of a systematic rejection of such things by the biblical

authors over the millennium that it took to compose the Hebrew
Bible. There are, however, just enough suggestive texts to confuse the
issue. So rather than biblical silence perhaps we should say that it is
just a whisper. This whisper is faint enough to make people, espe-
cially non-specialists, imagine that there was virtually no belief in
afterlife in constitutive biblical religion or in early biblical Israel
thereafter. So, most recently, Neil Gilman, in a book on death in
Judaism, asserts firmly and repeatedly that death was seen as final by
the biblical writers, with no more than three possible exceptional
passages in the entire Hebrew Bible.
But we know that there was belief in an afterlife in Israel. The
combination of the archaeological record and the references that we
do have in the text leave little room for doubt. Archaeological data
indicate the nature of such beliefs. J.W. Ribar1 identified tomb instal-
lations that appear to reflect the existence of a cult of the dead and
attendant beliefs that the deceased continued some form of existence
after death. Ribar noted tombs that had apertures cut into their
ceilings through which it would be possible to give offerings to the
dead or that had storage jars placed directly over the heads of the
corpses. Ribar’s examples include the Grabkammer II tomb from
Megiddo (MB II B-C), Megiddo Tomb 234 (MB II), Hazor’s “porcu-
pine Cave” (MB II), and the caves in Area E, Gezer (late LB-Iron 1),
the Double Tomb 6-7 from Tell Abu Hawam’s cemetery (LB II),
Tombs I (Iron IIB) and II (Iron IIC) at Beth-Shemesh, and one
bench tomb from Sahab in Trans-Jordan (Iron IIC). Similar findings
were made at a Late Bronze installation at Dothan. Although the
Dothan material remains largely unpublished, R.E. Cooley2 has re-
ported concerning Tomb I (c. 1400-1200/1100):
An auxiliary opening or circular window was positioned on the front
side directly above one of the chamber niches. Outside the chamber
and below the opening two large storage jars had been placed. Each jar
contained a dipper juglet for the dead to receive the contents.... Such
provisions give sufficient evidence for the concern of the living to pro-
vide the dead with refreshing drinks. It is also possible that the Dothan

1
J.W. Ribar, Death Cult Practices in Ancient Palestine. Diss. University of Michigan,
1973, pp. 45-71.
2
R.E. Cooley, “Gathered to His People: A Study of a Dothan Family Tomb,” in
M. Inch and R. Youngblood, eds., The Living and Active Word of God (Winona Lake,
1983), pp. 50-51.
 death and afterlife: the biblical silence 37

installation was used for libations.... At Dothan water would be poured

into the chamber through the window opening and then the vessels
placed along the stone retaining wall of the shaft. This would account
for the large number of vessels found outside the chamber. Few Pales-
tinian sites have yielded such apparatus to supply water for the thirst of
the dead. The ritual purpose of these devices is clearly evident.
Extensive excavations in Judah have produced an abundance of evi-
dence surrounding Judahite burial practices, even more than have
been recovered from northern Israel. Elizabeth Bloch-Smith’s de-
tailed and comprehensive study is particularly valuable. To summa-
rize: there were several different methods of interment, though the
most common one for Iron Age Judah was the bench tomb. Despite
much diversity in choice of specific goods provided for the deceased,
all burials, bench-tomb or otherwise, contained the same categories
of goods at comparable relative frequencies. Ceramic vessels and
jewelry were most common, while personal items and tools were less
so. Bloch-Smith explains that the abundance of ceramic vessels indi-
cates that “nourishment in the afterlife was of paramount impor-
tance. An open vessel such as a bowl or crater for food, and a pilgrim
flask, chalice or jar for liquids, were the most common forms, fre-
quently accompanied in highland burials by a lamp for light.”3 Be-
ginning in the tenth century B.C.E., bowls, storejars with dipper
juglets, plates/platters, cooking pots, wine decanters and amphoras
were widely adopted into the mortuary repertoire. Apparently, these
new vessel forms functioned in the preparation, serving and storing of
food and liquids. Numerous examples of food remains are further
evidence of offerings to the dead.4
Additionally, Bloch-Smith cites the use of jewelry and amulets as
evidence of the deceased’s need for protection via sympathetic
magic.5 Recall also that the oldest known text of a portion of the
Bible, an inscription of the Priestly Blessing from Num. 6:24-26, was
found inscribed in silver foil which was rolled and placed on a body
in an Iron Age Judean tomb.6 Bloch-Smith further suggests that the
presence of female pillar figurines in many tombs is best explained as

3
Elizabeth Bloch-Smith, Judahite Burial Practices and Beliefs about the Dead (JSOT
Supplement Series 123, Sheffield, 1992), p. 141.
4
Ibid., pp. 103-108.
5
Ibid., pp. 81-86.
6
Gabriel Barkay, Ketef Hinnom: A Treasure Facing Jerusalem’s Walls (Jerusalem, 1986).
On the following, see Bloch-Smith, op.cit., pp. 94-100.
38 r.e. friedman and s.d. overton

an appeal to sympathetic powers in which the dead were thought to

intercede on behalf of surviving family members.
Israel’s grave goods are similar to those of its neighbors whose
afterlife beliefs are well-known. Egypt’s cult of the dead is familiar
through pyramids, mummification, and the Book of the Dead. Egyp-
tians’ central concerns were with providing the proper provisions for
the deceased, especially of royalty and nobility, so that they might
live comfortably in the afterlife and bestow blessings upon the living.
Mesopotamian literature also indicates a vibrant cult of ancestral
veneration. Within each family, a “caretaker” (paqidu) was responsible
for the care of the ghost (etemmu) of his deceased ancestor. This in-
cluded performing such important services as making funerary offer-
ings (kispa kasapu), pouring water (me naqu), and invoking the name
(šuma zakaru).7 Necromancy was also a well-developed and intricate
art. Magical literature mentions the restless ghost who returns to
haunt the living, and works such as The Descent of Ishtar and The Epic
of Gilgamesh demonstrate the belief in human afterlife in a world of
dust.
At Ugarit, too, there are comparable facilities for providing for the
continuing well-being of the dead, and there are parallels with allu-
sions to after-death experiences in the Bible. Excavations at Ras
Shamra have revealed the use of pipes leading from ground level
down into the tomb, which may have been used to provide the
deceased with water.8 Although Pitard9 disagrees that such libation
installations existed at Ras Shamra, claiming that they have been
misidentified, he nevertheless affirms that, “There is no doubt that
food and drink offerings were placed in the tomb at the time of each
burial.”10 KTU 1.161 describes a liturgy of a mortuary ritual directed
toward the deceased royal ancestors, some of whom are called
rapi’uma (see our discussion of repa’îm below). The deceased are in-
voked to assist in bestowing blessings upon the reigning king. Other
texts (KTU 1.6.6.45-49; 1.113) refer to the deceased as gods, ilu (see
the discussion of ’elohîm below). Some scholars argue that the marzea½

7
Miranda Bayliss, “The Cult of Dead Kin in Assyria and Babylonia,” in Iraq
35:1973, p. 116.
8
Theodore Lewis, “Ancestor Worship,” in The Anchor Bible Dictionary (New York,
1992), vol. I, p. 241.
9
Wayne T. Pitard, “The ‘Libation Installations’ of the Tombs at Ugarit,” in
Biblical Archaeologist 57, 1994, pp. 20-37.
10
Ibid., p. 35, n. 1.
 death and afterlife: the biblical silence 39

at Ugarit and elsewhere was “a feast for and with departed ancestors
corresponding to the Mesopotamian kispu.”11 The importance of an-
cestor worship is also seen in the phrase ’il ’ib, the “divine ancestor,”
which occurs at the head of pantheon lists as well as in epic texts and
sacrificial and offering lists.12
Especially important are recent studies that have advanced our
understanding of ancestor veneration among the ancient Israelites as
well. Albright began to make the case for ancestral sacrifices in 1957,
when he suggested that this was one of the functions of the bamôt in
ancient Israel. He concluded that “biblical references to veneration of
heroic shrines (e.g., Rachel and Deborah), cult of departed spirits or
divination with their aid, and high places in general add up to a
much greater significance for popular Israelite belief in life after
death and the cult of the dead than has hitherto appeared prudent to
admit.”13 Since then, a number of scholars have pursued this line of
inquiry. In particular, H.C. Brichto has gathered an abundance of
evidence demonstrating the persistence of ancestor veneration in an-
cient Israel, focussing mainly on the importance of land ownership in
connection with the continuation of a lineage. He stresses the prohi-
bition against selling one’s land forever, stating that with land re-
maining the property of a family in perpetuity, it belongs “to the
dead ancestors and to their unborn descendants—it is a sine qua non of
their stake in immortality.”14 The dead were buried on their land,
and their descendents were responsible for the maintenance of the
grave. Similar to what we know of ancient Mesopotamian practices,
Brichto claims that the condition of the dead in the afterlife is “con-
nected with proper burial upon the ancestral land and with the con-
tinuation on that land of the dead’s proper progeny.”15 Bloch-Smith
agrees, stating that “an ancestral tomb, whether located on inherited
land or in the village cemetery, served as a physical, perpetual claim
to the patrimony. Family proximity to the tomb facilitated caring for

11
Marvin Pope, “The Cult of the Dead at Ugarit,” in G.D. Young, ed., Ugarit in
Retrospect (Winona Lake, 1981), p. 176.
12
Theodore J. Lewis, Cults of the Dead in Ancient Israel and Ugarit. (Atlanta, 1989), p.
70.
13
William Foxwell Albright, “The High Place in Ancient Palestine,” in Volume du
Congres Internationale pour l’Etude de l’Ancien Testament, VTSup 4, 1957, p. 257.
14
Herbert C. Brichto, “Kin, Cult, Land and Afterlife—A Biblical Complex,” in
Hebrew Union College Annual 44, 1973, p. 9.
15
Ibid., p. 23.
40 r.e. friedman and s.d. overton

and venerating the dead. These functions of the tomb, in addition to

the attributed powers of the deceased, made the cult of the dead an
integral aspect of Israelite and Judahite society.” 16
The powers of the dead to which Bloch-Smith is referring would
include the ability to know the future as well as to bestow blessings
upon one’s descendants, assuming proper obeisance was made to the
ancestors. Homage was paid through correct burial, maintenance
and care of the grave, and offerings of food, libations, and incense to
appease the dead spirits. Deut. 26:14 explicitly disallows offering the
dead tithed food; but, as many scholars have observed, this prohibition
is not against making other offerings of food to the dead. Brichto
points out that “not only does this verse attest to the practice, as late
as the time of Deuteronomy, of offerings made to the dead; it attests
that normative biblical religion accorded them the sanction of tolera-
tion.”17 T.J. Lewis concurs, pointing out that scholars for over a
hundred years have suggested that this passage in Deuteronomy may
allude to offerings to the spirits of the dead “for the purpose of
rendering them propitious to the survivors.”18
Baruch Halpern has identified the historical context within which
ancestor veneration thrived for centuries and then was forcibly di-
minished as an increasingly radical monotheistic urban elite gained
ascendancy in Judah under Kings Hezekiah and Josiah. Prior to the
devastation of the Judean countryside by the Assyrian emperor
Sennacherib during the time of Hezekiah, the bulk of the population
lived in the rural areas outside Jerusalem and maintained traditional
clan and kinship-based communities, largely removed from political
influences within Jerusalem. “Along with blood claims and claims on
the land, the clan sector (mišpa½â) shared its ancestry. Indeed, ancestry
and the common treatment of the ancestors were a language in
which claims to property could reliably be lodged.” The orientation
of each individual kinship community was inward as members of
each community shared ancestry and property, and this common
heritage formed the basis for such annual ancestral sacrifices as de-
scribed in 1 Sam 20:6, where this event is David’s pretext for taking

16
Bloch-Smith, op. cit., p. 146.
17
Brichto, op. cit., p. 29.
18
See Samuel R. Driver, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Deuteronomy (New
York, 1916), pp. 291-292, whom Lewis, p. 103, cites, though note Driver’s reserva-
tions.
 death and afterlife: the biblical silence 41

leave of Saul. Burial customs reflected this, as Israelite rock-cut tombs

prior to the seventh century were multi-chambered, with room for at
least four generations of male offspring. Halpern emphasizes the pre-
reformation state of Judah’s intra-clan sense of community and con-
tinuity with the statement that “the Israelite inherited the house of
his ancestors, the fields of his ancestors, the tools of his ancestors, the
gods of his ancestors, and, in the end, the place of his ancestors in the
tomb.”19
Halpern’s work is a powerful merging of the archaeological evi-
dence and the textual evidence to capture the place of ancestor
veneration in ancient Israel. There is further internal evidence from
the biblical text that coincides with the broader external picture from
archaeology regarding the afterlife. First, there is a bank of terminol-
ogy, some of it obvious, some of it not so obvious. The term that
occurs most often in connection with after-death existence is Sheol. It
appears sixty-five times in the Hebrew Bible. The book of Job refers
to it many times, as do the narrative books, Psalms, Proverbs, and
some of the prophets. Although most scholars think that it is a name
for the netherworld, it is still an enigmatic term in that its original
meaning and etymology are in dispute. It is not found in any of the
cognate languages. Many suggestions have been made regarding the
origin of this word, ranging from a speculative Akkadian šu’alu,
meaning “underworld,” which most agree is a misanalysis of the
Akkadian, to a theoretical proto-Hebrew še’ô (root: š’h), which could
best be translated as “nothingness.”20 Stronger conjectures have been
made by Albright, who first suggested Akkadian origins in the word
ša’alu, making Sheol a “place of decision (of fates)” and later settled
on a new analysis of Sheol as a place of ordeal or examination,
arising out of Hebrew š’l, “to ask,” in the context of inquiry referring
to the practice of necromancy.21 Oppenheim compares the roles of
the ša’iltu-priestess in Akkadian. McCarter’s analysis of the river or-

19
Baruch Halpern, “Jerusalem and the Lineages in the Seventh Century BCE:
Kinship and the Rise of Individual Moral Liability,” in Baruch Halpern and
Deborah W. Hobson, eds., Law and Ideology in Monarchic Israel, JSOT Supplement
Series 124 (Sheffield, 1991), pp. 57-59.
20
Theodore J. Lewis, “Dead, Abode of the,” The Anchor Bible Dictionary (New
York, 1992), vol. II, p. 102.
21
William Foxwell Albright, “The Etymology of Še’ol,” in AJSL 34, 1918, pp.
209-210.
42 r.e. friedman and s.d. overton

deal in ancient Israel led him to speculate that Sheol might originally
have meant “the place of interrogation.”22
Another important term is repa’îm, which occurs infrequently but
seems to denote denizens of the netherworld in Is. 14:9; 26:14 and
Ps. 88:11. In other places in the Bible we have references to the
Valley of the repa’îm (Josh. 15:8; 18:6; 2 Sam. 5:18, 22; 23:13) and to
the repa’îm as one of the indigenous peoples of Canaan (Gen. 14:5,
Deut. 2:11,20; Deut. 3:13), but in the Isaiah passages and Ps. 88 the
repa’îm are the dead, continuing some sort of existence in an under-
world (see also Prov. 2:18; 9:18; 21:16; Job 26:5). Given this confus-
ing assortment of meanings for the word, it is fortunate that fifth
century Phoenician inscriptions attest to the repa’îm as those whom
the living join in dying (KAI 13:7-8, 14:8). As we have seen, it is also
found in Ugaritic (KTU 1.61), connoting a line of dead kings and
heroes (cf., Is. 14:9). Alan Cooper23 traces the etymology of repa’îm to
Ugaritic Rp’u, a chthonic deity and patron god of the King of Ugarit,
associated with healing in the sense of granting health, strength, fer-
tility, and fecundity; hence the Hebrew rapa’, “to heal.” This is im-
portant in discussing ancestor veneration in the ancient Near East, as
the purposes for revering one’s dead ancestors were often requests for
health, strength, and progeny.
The term terapîm is another relevant one, appearing in a number of
passages in the context of divination. The etymology of terapîm points
to an origin in Hittite tarpis, “spirit.”24 On the basis of Mesopotamian
evidence, K. vander Toorn interprets the terapîm as ancestor figurines
which would have been used both at home and in the public cult for
divination.25 According to C. Kennedy, the terapîm were ancestral
images that could be life-size, as in 1 Sam. 19:13, or as small as a
mask; and he notes that the Septuagint translates terapîm in the case of
Rachel’s theft from her family in Gen. 19:31 as eidolon, i.e., an image

22
A. Leo Oppenheim, “The Interpretation of Dreams in the ANE with a Trans-
lation of an Assyrian Dream Book,” in TAPhS N.S., 46, 1956, pp. 179-373; P. Kyle
McCarter, “The River Ordeal in Israelite Literature,” in Harvard Theological Review
66, 1973, pp. 403-412.
23
Alan Cooper, “MLK ‘LM: ‘Eternal King’ or ‘King of Eternity’?” in J.H. Marks
and R.M. Good, eds., Love and Death in the Ancient Near East: Essays in Honor of Marvin
H. Pope (Connecticut, 1987), pp. 3-4.
24
Harry A. Hoffner, Jr., “Hittite tarpis and Hebrew teraphim,” Journal of Near
Eastern Studies 27, 1968, pp. 61-68.
25
Karel Vander Toorn, “The Nature of Biblical Teraphim in the Light of Cunei-
form Evidence,” in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 52, 1990, p. 211.
 death and afterlife: the biblical silence 43

of the dead.26 In 2 Kgs. 23:24 they are listed as one of the divinatory
and idolatrous items destroyed by Josiah in the course of his reform.
Ezekiel envisions the king of Babylon’s consulting them in tandem
with the employment of divination by casting arrows (belomancy)
and by reading livers of sacrificed animals (hepatoscopy) in order to
obtain an oracle (21:26), and Zechariah has the terapîm speaking in
parallel to the diviners who relate false visions (10:2).
Brichto employs this idea of the terapîm as ancestral figurines to
support his controversial view of another term, stating that “the
physical representations of the household gods…are universally pre-
sumed to be designated by the Hebrew word terapîm. If this presump-
tion is correct, these representations may be present elsewhere
masked under the more general term ’elohîm, ‘gods,’ as they are
clearly designated in Gen. 31:30, where Laban uses the expression
‘my gods’ for the teraphim filched by Rachel.”27 Brichto and others28
have put forth the disputed notion that sometimes when the word
’elohîm appears in the Bible it refers to the spirits of dead ancestors
rather than to God. Their best example of this is in 1 Sam. 28:13,
where the word ’elohîm is taken by some to refer to the ghost of
Samuel. It has been suggested that Is. 8:19-21 also appears to use the
term ’elohîm in this way. Bloch-Smith takes this further and postulates
that the terms ’elohîm and ’elohê ’abîw often mean “divine ancestors”
rather than “God” or “god of his father,” and infers from this that
passages such as Gen. 28:22; 31:52-54; and 46:1 are actually describ-
ing an oath sworn on deceased ancestors and sacrifices being made to
ancestral deities.29 Lewis observes30 that
Ps 106:28 contains the curious expression ‘sacrifices of the dead’ (zib½ê
metîm). It is proposed above that the traditional explanation of this
phrase as referring to ‘dead idols’ is inadequate. Num. 25:2 served as a
source for the psalmist who consciously picked up on the phrase zib½ê
’elohêhen with his wording zib½ê metîm. It is the view of the present work
that the key to understanding zib½ê metîm lies in recognizing the parallel
between ’elohîm and metîm. These two terms, which occur in parallel
elsewhere in Ugaritic and Hebrew, can designate the spirits of the dead.

26
Charles A. Kennedy, “Dead, Cult of the,” in The Anchor Bible Dictionary (New
York, 1992), vol. II, p. 106.
27
Brichto, op. cit., p. 46.
28
Bloch-Smith, Judahite Burial Practices, pp. 122-123; Lewis, Cults of the Dead, p. 175;
Vander Toorn, op. cit., pp. 210-211.
29
Judahite Burial Practices, p. 123.
30
Cults of the Dead, p. 175.
44 r.e. friedman and s.d. overton

In the cases considered here, it is possible that ’elohîm was meant to

designate spirits of the departed, though, in most occurrences of the
word, ’elohîm certainly should be understood to mean “God.”
The word ’ittîm appears only once in the Bible, in a passage in
Isaiah (19:3), who seems to have a large vocabulary of words that
refer to after-life experience. According to Tzvi Abusch, ’ittîm is cog-
nate with Akkadian etemmu: ghost, shade, or spirit31—which is consist-
ent with the context in Isaiah, which mentions the consultation of
’obôt and yidde‘onîm as well as of ’ittîm.
In several places in which wizards, sorcerers, and other practition-
ers of forbidden magic are mentioned, we also find the phrase ’ôb
weyidde‘onî(m) (Deut. 18:11; 1 Sam. 28; 2 Kgs. 23:24; Is. 8:19). Al-
though the precise meaning of each term is uncertain, the phrase is
almost always understood as “necromancer” or “medium.” The term
’ôb is particularly ambiguous because it is found in a variety of con-
texts in which it can be understood as “spirit, ancestral spirit, the
person controlled by a spirit, a bag of skin, the pit from which spirits
are called up, a ghost, or a demon.”32 It has also been suggested that
its etymology should be sought in the Ugaritic phrase il ’ib, usually
understood as cognate to Hebrew ’elohê ’abîw but plausibly meaning
“god of the pit” rather than “god of the father(s).” 33 Although ’ôb is
often found on its own (usually when it means “pit” or “bag of skin”),
the word yidde‘onî(m) occurs only in tandem with ’ôb. Some scholars
take the phrase as a hendiadys while others, along with most transla-
tions, see it as referring to separate persons (e.g., medium and wiz-
ard).34 The root seems to be yd‘, but what remains unclear is whether
the “one who knows” is the spirit being consulted or the necroman-
cer who does the consulting. This phrase is also frequently translated
as “one who has a familiar spirit.” No matter how these words are
translated, each translation conveys the basic idea of communication
between the living and the dead.
The term marzea½, referring to a sort of funerary society, cognate to

31
Tzvi Abusch, “Etemmu,” in Karel vander Toorn, Bob Becking, and Pieter W.
van der Horst, eds., Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible (New York, 1995), p.
588.
32
Joanne K. Kuemmerlin-McLean, “Magic,” in The Anchor Bible Dictionary (New
York, 1992), vol. IV, p. 469.
33
William Propp, personal communication.
34
Kuemmerlin-McLean, op. cit., p. 469.
 death and afterlife: the biblical silence 45

the Ugaritic mrz½ (see above), occurs twice in the Hebrew Bible (Jer.
16:5; Amos 6:7).35
Additionally, there are terms that usually do not refer to afterlife
but which do have such meaning in particular, specialized contexts.
Alan Cooper’s treatment of the word ‘ôlam in Ps. 24 is an important
example of such a case. Cooper argues convincingly that Ps. 24:7-10
is a fragment of a descent myth “in which a high god, forsaking his
ordinary domain, descends to the netherworld, where he must con-
front the demonic forces of the infernal realm.” He sees two possible
interpretations: (1) God’s entry into the netherworld to combat
Death; and (2) God’s victorious emergence from the netherworld
after subduing Death. One of Cooper’s main arguments is that the
pit½ê Æôlam are the same as the Egyptian gates of the netherworld. He
lists other mentions of the gates of the netherworld in the Hebrew
Bible: Is. 38:10; Jonah 2:7; Ps. 9:14; 107:18; Job 38:16-17.36
Beyond the collection of terms such as these are the cases in which
afterlife is explicitly expressed. The late book of Daniel speaks of
those who sleep in the dust who will wake (12:2). Centuries earlier,
Isaiah speaks of the dead awaking and living, using similar language
to that of Daniel, as well as referring to the repa’îm (Is. 26:19). And a
century earlier than that, 1 Sam. 28 recounts the story of the woman
of En-Dor raising Samuel, who complains about being disturbed,
criticizes Saul (as usual), and tells the future (Saul’s demise). (On the
date of the work to which the En-Dor story belongs, see below.) The
terms and explicit references to afterlife occur early and late, in po-
etry and prose, distributed through the course of the Hebrew Bible.
While arguments from silence must be taken with the usual cau-
tions, we should still note that the Bible has no criticism of any pagan
society for belief in afterlife. Its attack on their icons is so common as
to be well known to any Sunday school child. Its attacks on their
sexual practices and on their human sacrifices (right or wrong) are
numerous in the texts as well. But the closest it comes to polemic
about the afterlife is to say that in a particular instance the Egyptians
will turn to such sources for help but that this will not help them.

35
See Baruch Halpern, “A Landlord-Tenant Dispute at Ugarit?,” in Maarav 2,
1979, pp. 121-140; Richard Elliott Friedman, “The Mrz½ Tablet from Ugarit,” in
Maarav 2, 1979-1980, pp. 187-206, for discussion and bibliography.
36
Alan Cooper, “Ps 24:7-10: Mythology and Exegesis,” in Journal of Biblical Litera-
ture 102, 1983, pp. 43 and 48, note.
46 r.e. friedman and s.d. overton

Biblical law forbids Israelites from consulting a medium, but that is

not a denial of the efficacy of what a medium does nor a criticism of
the pagans for doing it. Similarly, the Torah forbids Israelites to
practice magic, but it still depicts Egyptian magicians as able to turn
sticks to snakes and water to blood.
Indeed, all of the usual cautions apply, of course. The passages in
Isaiah and Daniel are poetry. Sheol might just mean the grave or
generically and indefinitely the place where one lies when one dies,
without meaning that one has consciousness there. And Samuel in
the En-Dor episode, likewise, may simply be understood to be dis-
turbed from eternal unconscious rest rather than from a place where
persons are conscious after death. We may take the narrowest view
possible of each case and term, but the nature and quantity of them
is still too much to write off as a mass of uncertain instances. And,
when taken with awareness of the historical and archaeological
record, they add up to evidence of belief in an afterlife. (Thus
Gilman’s insistence that biblical Israel knew no afterlife is based on
such a taking of the narrowest view in every case that he considers
and then holding that view to be determinative. Where he treats
three cases of explicit reference to afterlife, he says: But that is only
three cases—and the text in Daniel is late. And he does not deal with
all of the applicable terms. And he does not deal with the archaeo-
logical evidence.)
Both in the ground and on the parchment, we have reason to
recognize that there were beliefs in life after death in biblical Israel.
The question, then, is how to reconcile the biblical whispers with the
evidence. How do we reconcile our knowledge that Israelites believed
in an afterlife with the relative rarity of textual references?
This requires an examination of authorship. One of the by-prod-
ucts of recent research by one of the authors of this article is some
new data that may contribute to the solution of the present question.
This research indicates that there is a continuous work of literature
that is embedded among the narrative books of the Hebrew Bible. Its
beginning is in Genesis, and it ends in 1 Kings 2. In the Torah it
includes all of the text that has been known for over a century as J. J
flows beyond the Torah, taking up portions of the books of Joshua,
Judges, 1 and 2 Samuel, and the first two chapters of 1 Kings. It is
thus the first lengthy work of prose known on earth. It tells a continu-
ous story with hardly a single gap between the Torah and Kings, and
it was composed by a single author, probably in the ninth century
 death and afterlife: the biblical silence 47

B.C.E.37 Now, the relevance of this to the matter of afterlife is that

part of the evidence for identifying this work as a unity is the fact that
certain terms and themes occur disproportionately in this work—or
only in this work and nowhere else in biblical prose. Among the bank
of such characteristic terms, we find that of the nine references to
Sheol in all the prose of the Hebrew Bible, all nine are in this group
of texts, and none in the rest of biblical prose (Gen. 37:35; 42:38;
44:29; 44:31; Num. 16:30, 33; 2 Sam. 22:6; 1 Kgs. 2:6,9). Of twelve
references to teraphim, eight are in this group of texts, and four in all
of the rest of biblical prose.
It is not just a matter of the terminology employed. The author of
this work uses imagery that none of the other biblical prose authors
use. In the episode of the rebellion against Moses and Aaron in Num.
16, this author’s story of Dathan and Abiram has been combined by
an editor with the parallel story of Korah from P, but the two stories
have notably different endings. In the P Korah account, Korah’s
followers are burned; but in the J account (16:30-34), Dathan and
Abiram along with their families and possessions are swallowed up by
the ground and go down to Sheol alive. It is also in this author’s
narrative that the story of the medium at En-Dor’s communicating
with the deceased Samuel occurs. It is also in this work that the story
of Israel’s heresy at Baal Peor occurs (Num. 25:1-5), involving the
possible case of “sacrifices of the dead,” (zib½ê metîm/zib½ê ’elohêhen), as
discussed above. And many times in this work there are reports of a
man’s being buried in his father’s tomb: Gideon (Judg. 8:32), Samson
(16:31), Asahel (2 Sam. 3:32), Ahitophel (17:23), and Saul and
Jonathan (21:14). The words “He was buried in his father’s tomb” do
not occur anywhere else in the Hebrew Bible. And it is also this work
that notes in the account of Moses’ death that “no man knows his
burial place to this day” (Deut. 34:6). The fact that this author is
concerned with the location of the grave is notable because ancestor
veneration is crucially linked with the actual grave site. As Halpern
has shown, the forced separation of the people from these sites in
Hezekiah’s reign was a turning-point in the triumph of Israelite
monotheism and centralization of worship. This report that no one

37
This was developed in an unpublished paper: Richard Elliott Friedman, “The
First Great Writer,” read at the Biblical Colloquium and in colloquia at Cambridge,
Yale, Hebrew University of Jerusalem, University of California, Berkeley, and Uni-
versity of California, San Diego. It now appears in R.E. Friedman, The Hidden Book
in the Bible (San Francisco, 1998).
48 r.e. friedman and s.d. overton

knows Moses’ burial place has been taken to “emphasize the very
finality of the death of this man,”38 but it is a stretch to imagine an
author’s choosing to raise this fact in order to convey that message.
In a world in which ancestor veneration is practiced, we would more
readily expect this report to mean just the opposite, emphasizing that
the non-knowledge of the burial place is a striking fact because ances-
tor veneration must be linked to a burial place. And all of the other
reports about burials in the family tomb in this work support the
likelihood that this is the author’s concern.
Now, none of the other sources of the Torah has any of this
terminology or this imagery. What is the difference between this
author and the authors of all of the rest of the Torah? The most
prominent distinction that comes to mind is that this author is a
layperson while all of the others are priests. 39 The authors who are
priests do not discuss conceptions of the afterlife except in the context
of prohibitions. Restrictions against contact with the dead and in-
volvement in certain mortuary practices can be found in both the
Deuteronomistic legal material and the Holiness Code: Deut. 18:10-
11 and Lev. 19:31, 20:6, and 20:27 prohibit the consultation of dead
ancestors either directly or through necromancers and other interme-
diaries. Deut. 26:14 forbids feeding the dead tithed food, and Deut.
14:1 and Lev. 19:27-28 and 21:5 all object to engaging in the self-
laceration rituals employed in Canaanite death cult practices. Lewis
observed that “priestly material seems almost preoccupied with the
defiling nature of the corpse, the bones, and the grave. This preoccu-
pation stands out in contrast to the surrounding cultures of the an-
cient Near East and may indeed be a reflection of an attempt to
combat a cult of the dead.”40 But, again, this does not necessarily
deny that such mechanisms of communicating with the dead are
effective. Brichto, too, notes that “the prohibition of recourse to the
dead for oracles is in no way a denial of their existence in an afterlife,
of their accessibility to the living and of their interest in them.”41 This
is why it would have been in the priests’ interest to suppress the
proliferation and undermine the legitimacy of cults of the dead.
These cults were not limited to the employment of necromancers.

38
Gilman, op. cit., p. 64.
39
Richard Elliott Friedman, Who Wrote the Bible? (New York, 1987; 2nd ed., San
Francisco, 1997), pp. 72-74, 79, 83, 85-86, 120-124, 128, 188, 210-211, 214.
40
Lewis, Cults of the Dead, p. 175.
41
Brichto, “Kin, Cult, Land and Afterlife, p. 8.
 death and afterlife: the biblical silence 49

Indeed, specialists were not needed at all to propitiate the good will
of the deceased and accrue blessings. The best way for an ancient
Israelite to ensure health, prosperity, and fertility was to propitiate
the family’s dead ancestors. This did not require a priest, it brought
no income to the priesthood, and it could even compete with priests’
income and authority.
The authors of the Priestly portions of the Torah (P) promoted
precisely the opposite idea: the only legitimate avenue to the deity is
the priests. In the Priestly work there are no angels, no dreams, no
talking animals. There are not even prophets. The very word
“prophet” occurs only once, and there it refers figuratively to the
High Priest, Aaron (Exod. 7:1). There are no accounts of sacrifices
prior to the inauguration of Aaron as High Priest. And no formal
worship is permitted outside of the Tabernacle—which means the
Temple, either really or symbolically. There is no description of the
creation of any realm of the dead in the Priestly creation account in
Gen. 1. (There is none in the J account in Gen. 2 either, but that
account does not pretend to be a picture of all of creation in the way
Gen. 1 is; thus it also does not include the creation of the heavenly
bodies or the seas.) For P, there is one God, one Temple, one altar,
one sanctioned priesthood.
When the Priestly narrative deals with a family tomb—specifically,
in the case of the cave of Machpelah—the focus is explicitly on the
purchase of the cave and the land surrounding it, both in the original
story (Gen. 23), where the transaction is described in detail and the
purchase price is specified, and in every mention of the cave thereaf-
ter (Gen. 49:29-33; 50:12-13). Rather than relating to ancestor ven-
eration, this focus serves the function of establishing the legitimacy of
Israel’s ownership of Hebron, the locale of the cave, which was a city
assigned to the Aaronid priests, the group who produced the Priestly
narrative (Josh. 21:8-11).
Though most of the field of biblical scholarship continues to date
the Priestly texts to the post-exilic period, the weight of the current
evidence, particularly the linguistic evidence, points to the time of the
First Temple.42 The Hezekian dating of these texts naturally connects
them with the centralization of the Israelite religion that is ascribed to
that king’s reign. It also corresponds to Halpern’s historical descrip-

42
Friedman, Who Wrote the Bible?, pp. 161-216; “Torah,” in The Anchor Bible Dic-
tionary (New York, 1992), vol. VI, pp. 605-622.
50 r.e. friedman and s.d. overton

tion of the religious and political change that followed the destruction
of the northern kingdom of Israel and Sennacherib’s campaign
against the southern kingdom of Judah. The devastation of the coun-
tryside made possible the idea of centralizing the priestly authority in
Jerusalem. This was precisely the era of the end of the local ancestral
veneration sites. But ancestor veneration must be on the site (so
Brichto, Halpern, and Bloch-Smith).
A combination of Sennacherib’s campaign and Hezekiah’s politi-
cal ingenuity put an end to this traditional community in rural Judah.
According to Halpern, in order for Hezekiah to justify sacrificing the
outlying communities’ lands to Sennacherib’s armies, he had to
desacralize the land itself by discrediting traditional ancestral wor-
ship; this in turn allowed him to accomplish the centralization of
worship in Jerusalem.43 “For Hezekiah’s purposes, it had been essen-
tial to amputate the ancestors, those responsible for the bestowal of
rural property to their descendants: they, and they alone, consecrated
the possession of land.”44 Without their traditional ancestral lands,
the people’s ties and sense of community were of necessity transferred
to the monarchy, and competition between ancestor veneration and
centralized worship at the Temple in Jerusalem was eliminated. This
understanding is corroborated by the advent of a new type of burial,
in which individuals, married couples, and occasionally nuclear fami-
lies were buried in a communal necropolis rather than in family
crypts.45
The Priestly (P) narrative and laws thus reflect this stage in the
history of the religion of Israel, when a centralized priesthood dis-
placed local worship that had included ancestor intercession. The
sources of the Torah known as E and D reflect the same concerns as
P. Their authors appear to come from a different priestly house,
identified in some recent scholarship as Shilonite or Mushite,46 but
their interests on this point are the same. They were probably against
local ancestor veneration from the beginning—as reflected in E,
which is from the time of the divided monarchy (pre-722 B.C.E.),
and in the oldest portions of the Deuteronomic law code (which may
be even older than E)—because it was performed at home, with no

43
Halpern, “Jerusalem and the Lineages in the Seventh Century BCE: Kinship
and the Rise of Individual Moral Liability,” pp. 26-27, 73-76.
44
Ibid., p. 74.
45
Ibid., p. 73.
46
Frank Moore Cross, Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic (Cambridge, 1973).
 death and afterlife: the biblical silence 51

need of an altar or a priest as intermediary. They were certainly

against it from the time of King Josiah, whose religious reform was
even more radically centralizing than Hezekiah’s had been. The
Shilonite/Mushite priesthood came to power with Josiah, and D is
traced to that period. As Halpern has characterized Josiah’s reform:
“It was a systematic effort to erase from the nation’s history the
memory not just of a royal predecessor but of a whole culture.”47 By
the time of Josiah, this centralizing tendency had heightened as the
state religious practice became the moral norm, and the assault on
kinship grew more radical, particularly because Manasseh’s interven-
ing reign had allowed the re-establishment of many of the traditional
high places and centers for non-Jerusalem religious activity.48 By the
time of Josiah, no such activity was tolerated outside the Temple; as
Halpern states, “the state, now, acted as a surrogate for the old tribal
institutions, while professing all the while the ideology of those insti-
tutions.”49
Thus E and D also avoid the issue of life after death, except to
prohibit contact with the dead in several passages of Deuteronomy.
Like P, they are by priests; and, like P, they are silent on life after
death.
When we move on from the Torah to the histories, the situation is
the same. The full Deuteronomistic history, which extends from
Deuteronomy through 2 Kings, comes from the same hands as Deu-
teronomy itself, and those are the hands of priests, the Mushite or
Shilonite priests who rose with Josiah. And the Deuteronomistic his-
torian is silent on afterlife. Where the history includes anything to do
with this subject, it is found in a passage that is manifestly from one
of the historian’s sources, not from the historian himself. The story of
the medium at En-Dor, for example, belongs to the source work that
we described above. It does not contain any of the characteristic
language of the Deuteronomistic historian himself.
Similarly, there are the three resuscitation stories in the books of
Kings. Elijah and Elisha each participate in bringing a dead boy back
to life (1 Kgs. 17, 2 Kgs. 4), and a chance contact with Elisha’s bones

47
Baruch Halpern, “Sybil, or the Two Nations?,” in J.S. Cooper and G.M.
Schwartz, eds., The Study of the Ancient Near East in the Twenty-First Century (Winona
Lake, 1996), p. 329.
48
Halpern, “Jerusalem and the Lineages in the Seventh Century BCE: Kinship
and the Rise of Individual Moral Liability,” p. 74.
49
Ibid. 76.
52 r.e. friedman and s.d. overton

revives a dead man on his way to burial (2 Kgs. 13). One may say
that these stories do not necessarily imply the existence of any realm
of conscious afterlife in any case; but, even if we take the view that
they do imply some such realm of post-mortem existence, they, too,
contain no characteristic Deuteronomistic language. They rather be-
long to one of the Deuteronomist’s sources, a chronicle of the north-
ern kingdom of Israel. The same applies to the story of Elijah’s ascent
in a whirlwind in 2 Kgs. 2. The story is often taken to mean that
Elijah does not die. Alternatively, it may be precisely the account of
his death. Either way, it belongs to the source, not to the historian’s
own composition.
One may ask why the Deuteronomistic historian retained these
stories if they presented things in which he did not believe. The long
answer would involve a proper analysis of how each of the biblical
editors and historians worked and what their respective attitudes
were toward their sources. The brief answer for our present purposes
is that the Deuteronomistic historian included lengthy source texts
without apparently feeling the need to make constant interruptions
and cuts, so long as he could compose the introduction, framework,
and conclusion to set the history in his particular perspective.50
The other major historical narrative, the Chronicler’s Work, com-
prising the books of Chronicles, Ezra, and Nehemiah, is commonly
associated with the same priestly community that produced the
Priestly Work (P), i.e. the Aaronid priesthood. It should come as no
surprise that the Chronicler’s Work, like other priestly products, does
not deal with afterlife.
This same distinction between lay and priestly writers prevails in
the Major Prophets. Jeremiah and Ezekiel are priests. Jeremiah is
associated with the priestly house that produced the Deuteronomistic
texts; Ezekiel is associated with the Aaronid priestly house that pro-
duced the P texts. Neither of them is known for afterlife terminology.
The book of Jeremiah in particular does not include occurrences of
terminology associated with post-mortem existence. Ezekiel has the
famous dry bones that become animated, but it is not at all clear that
this points to any Jewish belief in afterlife in that period. In the first
place, it is just a metaphor within a vision, used to express the possi-

50
Friedman, Who Wrote the Bible, pp. 130-145; “The Deuteronomistic School,” in
Beck, Astrid, et al., eds., Fortunate the Eyes That See, David Noel Freedman Festschrift
(Grand Rapids, 1995), pp. 70-80
 death and afterlife: the biblical silence 53

bility of regeneration of Israel after a national catastrophe. Second, it

refers to resurrection, not to the existence of a post-mortem realm.
Third, and above all, it may just as likely be evidence against belief in
afterlife as for it. One could argue that it shows that Jews believed in
such things, or one could just as easily argue that it is presented as
something extraordinary and unanticipated, something that was not
commonly believed.
Meanwhile, the prophecy of (First) Isaiah, who is not a priest, is
filled with allusions to afterlife experience, employing such terms as
še’ôl, repa’îm, and ’ittîm. This is surprising in that Isaiah is presented as
a supporter of Hezekiah, the king in whose reign the centralization of
religion triumphed and the Aaronid priesthood achieved ascendancy
over other priestly houses and the sites of ancestor veneration were
wiped out. It may be, nonetheless, that the prophet could consistently
both support all of the royal ideology and still speak of afterlife as a
phenomenon. As a layperson, he would not necessarily have the
same stake as a priest in actively suppressing any talk of afterlife in his
writings.
Why would priests in general be so averse to discussing anything
regarding after-death experience, while someone like the author of J
incorporates it as though taking for granted that it was part of his or
her readers’ world view? First, as we discussed above, local ceremo-
nies for dead ancestors did not require a priest, brought no income to
the priesthood, and could even compete with priests’ income and
authority. The priests’ livelihood was dependent on sacrifices to
YHWH, and the priestly laws were designed in such a way as to
ensure that all aspects of interaction with the divine were conducted
only through the priests. If a belief in an afterlife was encouraged,
and necromancy was given legitimacy as a means for knowing the
divine will, then the priests would be ceding a portion of the control
of the religion.
In this vein, it is important to note that in the story of the woman
of En-Dor, Saul is seeking a necromancer precisely because “Saul
saw the Philistines’ camp and was afraid, and his heart trembled very
much. And Saul asked of YHWH, and YHWH did not answer him,
neither through dreams nor through Urim nor through prophets” (1
Sam. 28:5-6). Thus, although he has banished all necromancers from
the land in accord with the law, in order to learn his fate, Saul must
turn to one of them for answers; and she is able to conjure up
Samuel. Thus, through the necromancer, Saul succeeds in circum-
54 r.e. friedman and s.d. overton

venting YHWH’s silence. The dead Samuel has access to knowledge

regarding the will of YHWH and is able to predict Saul’s future for
him. The inherent lesson in this is that one need not go through
priests and legitimate means of inquiry regarding the divine will so
long as one has recourse to inquiring of the spirits of the deceased.
Since the priests were not necromancers, this was not an aspect of
religion that they could control. It is thus natural that they not grant
it legitimacy by even hinting at the existence of an underworld or an
afterlife in their writings, despite the fact that such beliefs may have
been popular and widespread.
A second explanation of the priesthood’s opposition to afterlife
beliefs is related to the hypothesis that the priestly group, the Levites,
originally came from outside the land. On this hypothesis, the Levites
were the Israelites who had experienced the enslavement and exodus
and who then entered Israel and merged with the tribes who already
resided there. They therefore did not have ancestral territory, which
is essential to local veneration practices. (That is why the Levites
receive ten percent of the other tribes’ produce; it is in lieu of land.)
Their ancestors were presumably buried back in Egypt. Even if they
had originated in Canaan prior to their sojourn in Egypt, they were
long cut off from the burial sites of their ancestors.
A third possibility is that perhaps the laws forbidding contact with
the dead for priests were in place before necromancy and such things
were popular or before the Levitical priests came into contact with
this type of religion, and so priests could not have anything to do
with those practices.
Another possibility is that the Levites, coming from the Egyptian
experience, were reacting against Egyptian religion’s obsession with
the dead. To find the origin of an antipathy to such beliefs and
practices, we might be best advised: Go back to Egypt—and to the
founder. If a historical Moses really was offended by all of that con-
centration on death, he might well have bequeathed to his followers
and successors a strict rejection of the entire scheme.
These possibilities are all speculative, and we raise them only to
establish that there are in fact historical scenarios in which we can
conceive of a priesthood that is at odds with the masses regarding
afterlife. And we know of the historical scenario in which the religion
of Israel was centralized—first in the reign of Hezekiah and then
more thoroughly in the reign of Josiah—which would have made it
possible for the priests’ view to predominate over the popular view.
 death and afterlife: the biblical silence 55

We therefore advise caution against taking what appears to be a

thin distribution of references to afterlife as evidence that there was
little belief in it. Similarly, we caution against scholarly models of
linear progressions, seeing Israel as moving from periods of belief to
complete rejection (Job 14:12-14; Ec. 9:5-10) to a final full-blown
belief (Dan. 12:2—“those who sleep in the dust will wake...”).51 The
problem with both of these positions is that they do not take sufficient
account of the specific background and situation of each of the bib-
lical authors. It makes a difference whether the author was a
layperson or priest. And the historical events that led to religious
centralization made a difference in who had the opportunity to tell
the story—and how each would tell it.
It is difficult to state with any degree of certainty that the texts
cited as evidence of such radical changes in perspective in a linear
progression, such as Job, Ecclesiastes, and some of the Psalms, were
representative of the views of a community. To claim that the
skepticism of Job and Ecclesiastes with regard to consciousness in
Sheol signified a shift in cultural conceptions of the afterlife simply
makes too much out of the points of view of individual writers. Even
assuming, as many scholars seem to, that these texts were written
during roughly the same period, the fact that they both question the
existence of life after death cannot be taken as representative of grow-
ing doubt on the part of the entire society. And the caution that we
are advising here with regard to the wisdom literature applies at least
as much to the Psalms. The notorious difficulty in dating the Psalms
should make one slow to construct any linear progression of beliefs
about the afterlife through them.
Even more caution is called for when bringing the book of Daniel
into the progression. There are references to resurrection or resusci-
tation in various places in the Hebrew Bible: the three Elijah-Elisha
cases, Is. 26, Hos. 6:2, and the dry bones metaphor in Ezek. 37. Yet,
in order to make their linear progression of ideas viable, scholars
discount or downplay each one until Daniel. Then, “those who sleep
in the dust will wake...” is cited as representative of a change in
Israelite conceptions of death and after-death experience that, ac-

51
Klaas Spronk, Beatific Afterlife in Ancient Israel (AOAT, 219, 1986), Neukirchen-
Vluyn; Bernhard Lang, “Afterlife; Ancient Israel’s Changing Vision of the World
Beyond,” in Bible Review 4, 1988, pp. 12-23; Wayne T. Pitard, “Afterlife and Immor-
tality; Ancient Israel,” in B.M. Metzger and M.D. Coogan, eds., The Oxford Compan-
ion to the Bible (Oxford, 1993), pp. 15-16.
56 r.e. friedman and s.d. overton

cording to this line of thinking, began to take place during the second
and first centuries B.C.E. as a reaction to the idea that there was no
conscious existence in Sheol, and from there led directly into the
formation of Christianity. But the history of thought rarely moves in
a precise linear progression, and those references cannot be com-
pletely excluded. At minimum they suggest that the concept was a
familiar one in Israel for a long time. The fact that it is so explicitly
portrayed in Daniel cannot be taken as indicative of a sea change in
Jewish thought of the second century B.C.E. As R. Martin-Achard
put it, “Texts relating to resurrection in the Old Testament are rare
and dissimilar; they come from different horizons and we cannot
simply examine them in chronological order to retrace the history of
this theme in the mind of Israel.”52
The truth of this statement has become apparent, and not only
with regard to the concept of resurrection; none of the ideas con-
nected with afterlife beliefs can be traced in a linear historical pro-
gression. We have too few literary voices remaining from each time
period to hope that each could represent the thoughts and beliefs of
the aggregate accurately. We have seen that there is not simply one
view of the afterlife that can be generalized for all of ancient Israel
over the thousand year period of the Hebrew Bible’s composition.
On the contrary, conflicting views can prevail simultaneously. Rather
than attempting to extract a single, unified notion of the afterlife in
ancient Israel that progresses linearly through time, we must instead
investigate each reference to mortuary rites, the netherworld, venera-
tion of deceased ancestors, necromancy, and resurrection within its
own literary-historical framework, with the understanding that each
author, within his or her own political and spatio-temporal context,
might have a distinct idea of what happens to humans after they die,
what they become, and what the proper relationship should be be-
tween the living and the dead.

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52
Robert Martin-Achard, “Resurrection,” in The Anchor Bible Dictionary (New
York, 1992), vol. V, pp. 683.
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in Hebrew Union College Annual 44, 1973, pp. 1-54.
Cooley, R.E., “Gathered to His People: A Study of a Dothan Family
Tomb,” in Inch, M., and R. Youngblood, eds., The Living and Active
Word of God (Winona Lake, 1983), pp. 47-58.
Cooper, Alan, “MLK ‘LM: ‘Eternal King’ or ‘King of Eternity’?” in Marks,
J.H., and R.M. Good, eds., Love and Death in the Ancient Near East: Essays
in Honor of Marvin H. Pope (Connecticut, 1987), pp. 1-8.
Cooper, Alan, “Ps 24:7-10: Mythology and Exegesis,” in Journal of Biblical
Literature 102, 1983, pp. 37-60.
Cross, Frank Moore, Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic (Cambridge, 1973).
Driver, Samuel R., A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Deuteronomy (New
York, 1916).
Friedman, Richard Elliott, “The Mrz½ Tablet from Ugarit,” in Maarav 2,
1979-1980, pp. 187-206.
Friedman, Richard Elliott, Who Wrote the Bible? (New York, 1987; 2nd ed.,
San Francisco, 1997).
Friedman, Richard Elliott, “Torah,” in The Anchor Bible Dictionary (New York,
1992), vol. VI, pp. 605-622.
Friedman, Richard Elliott, “The Deuteronomistic School,” in Beck, Astrid,
et al., eds., Fortunate the Eyes That See, David Noel Freedman Festschrift
(Grand Rapids, 1995), pp. 70-80.
Friedman, Richard Elliott, The Hidden Book in the Bible (San Francisco, 1998).
Gilman, Neil, The Death of Death (Woodstock, 1997).
Halpern, Baruch, “Jerusalem and the Lineages in the Seventh Century BCE:
Kinship and the Rise of Individual Moral Liability,” in Halpern,
Baruch, and Deborah W. Hobson, eds., Law and Ideology in Monarchic
Israel, JSOT Supplement Series 124 (Sheffield, 1991), pp. 11-107.
Halpern, Baruch, The Constitution of the Monarchy in Israel (Atlanta, 1981).
Halpern, Baruch, “A Landlord-Tenant Dispute at Ugarit?,” in Maarav 2,
1979, pp. 121-140.
Halpern, Baruch, “Sybil, or the Two Nations?” in Cooper, J.S., and G.M.
Schwartz, eds., The Study of the Ancient Near East in the Twenty-First Century
(Winona Lake, 1996), pp. 291-338.
58 r.e. friedman and s.d. overton

Hoffner, Harry A., Jr., “Hittite tarpis and Hebrew teraphim,” in Journal of
Near Eastern Studies 27, 1968, pp. 61-68.
Kaufmann, Yehezkel, The Religion of Israel, trans. and ed., Moshe Greenberg
(Chicago, 1960).
Kennedy, Charles A., “Dead, Cult of the,” in The Anchor Bible Dictionary (New
York, 1992), vol. II, pp. 105-108.
Kuemmerlin-McLean, Joanne K., “Magic,” in The Anchor Bible Dictionary
(New York, 1992), vol. IV, pp. 468-471.
Lang, Bernhard, “Afterlife; Ancient Israel’s Changing Vision of the World
Beyond,” in Bible Review 4, 1988, pp. 12-23.
Lang, Bernhard, “Life After Death in the Prophetic Promise,” inVTSup 40
Congress Vol., Jerusalem, 1986, pp. 144-156.
Lewis, Theodore J., “Ancestor Worship,” in The Anchor Bible Dictionary (New
York, 1992), vol. I, pp. 240-242.
Lewis, Theodore J., “Dead, Abode of the,” The Anchor Bible Dictionary (New
York, 1992), vol. II, pp. 101-105.
Lewis, Theodore J., Cults of the Dead in Ancient Israel and Ugarit. (Atlanta, 1989).
Martin-Achard, Robert, “Resurrection,” in The Anchor Bible Dictionary (New
York, 1992), vol. V, pp. 680-684.
Meyers, Eric M., Jewish Ossuaries: Reburial and Rebirth (Biblica et Orientalia
24, Rome, 1971).
McCarter, P. Kyle, “The River Ordeal in Israelite Literature,” in Harvard
Theological Review 66, 1973, pp. 403-412.
Oppenheim, A. Leo, “The Interpretation of Dreams in the ANE with a
Translation of an Assyrian Dream Book,” in TAPhS N.S., 46, 1956, pp.
179-373.
Pitard, Wayne T., “Afterlife and Immortality; Ancient Israel,” in Metzger,
B.M., and M.D. Coogan, eds., The Oxford Companion to the Bible (Oxford,
1993), pp. 15-16.
Pitard, Wayne T., “The ‘Libation Installations’ of the Tombs at Ugarit,” in
Biblical Archaeologist 57, 1994, pp. 20-37.
Pope, Marvin, “The Cult of the Dead at Ugarit,” in Young, G.D., ed., Ugarit
in Retrospect (Winona Lake, 1981), pp. 159-179.
Pope, Marvin, Song of Songs (The Anchor Bible, New York, 1977).
Ribar, J.W., Death Cult Practices in Ancient Palestine, Diss. University of Michi-
gan, 1973.
Richards, Kent H., “Death (OT),” in The Anchor Bible Dictionary (New York,
1992), vol. II, pp. 108-110.
Schmidt, Brian B., Israel’s Beneficent Dead: Ancestor Cults in Ancient Israelite Reli-
gion and Tradition (Tübingen, 1994).
Smith, Mark S., “Rephaim,” in The Anchor Bible Dictionary (New York, 1994),
vol. V, pp. 674-676.
Smith, Mark S., and Elizabeth M. Bloch-Smith, “Death and Afterlife in
Ugarit and Israel,” in Journal of the American Oriental Society 108:1988, pp.
277-284.
Spronk, Klaas, Beatific Afterlife in Ancient Israel (AOAT, 219, 1986),
Neukirchen-Vluyn.
 death and afterlife: the biblical silence 59

Tromp, N.J., Primitive Conceptions of Death and the Nether World in the Old Testa-
ment, Biblica et Orientalia 21, 1986.
Van der Toorn, Karel, “The Nature of Biblical Teraphim in the Light of
Cuneiform Evidence,” in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 52, 1990, pp. 203-
222.
 2. DEATH AND AFTERLIFE IN THE PSALMS

John Goldingay
Fuller Theological Seminary

Significant recent scholarship emphasizes the material and biblical

evidence for the assumption within regular Israelite piety that the
living may seek to relate to the dead, to contribute to their needs, and
to benefit from their knowledge and powers; that clearly implies that
the “dead” are in some sense actually alive.1 In light of this possibil-
ity, we will here reconsider the attitudes to death and afterlife ex-
pressed in the piety of the Psalms.
According to a traditional critical understanding of this matter,
generally these writings assume that this life is the only worthwhile
life we have, though a small number of passages speak explicitly of a
worthwhile afterlife.2 Mitchell Dahood interpreted a much larger
number of passages that speak of “life” as referring to an afterlife,3
but this thesis has not carried conviction. The present writer’s con-
clusion is that even passages that have been more commonly under-
stood to refer to a worthwhile afterlife do not do so. The Psalter’s
consistent hope is for fullness of life in this life, and it continues to
maintain that hope even when it is most severely threatened; it is the
same hope as is assumed by Proverbs, Job, and Ecclesiastes. These
strands of Israelite faith implicitly or explicitly opposed belief in a
positive afterlife.

1
For varying views see, e.g., H.C. Brichto, “Kin, Cult, Land, and Afterlife,” in
Hebrew Union College Annual 44 (1973), pp. 1-54; K. Spronk, Beatific Afterlife in Ancient
Israel and in the Ancient Near East (Neukirchen, 1986); B. Lang, “Life after Death in the
Prophetic Promise,” in J.A. Emerton, ed., Congress Volume: Jerusalem 1986 (VT Sup.
40, 1988), pp. 144-156; T.J. Lewis, Cults of the Dead in Ancient Israel and Ugarit (Atlanta,
1989); E.M. Bloch-Smith, “The Cult of the Dead in Judah,” in Journal of Biblical
Literature 111 (1992), pp. 213-224; Judahite Burial Practices and Beliefs about the Dead
(Sheffield, 1992). For a more questioning view, see B.B. Schmidt, Israel’s Beneficent
Dead (Tübingen, 1994; new ed., Winona Lake, 1996).
2
See recently J. Day, “The Development of Belief in Life after Death in Ancient
Israel,” in J. Barton and D.J. Reimer, eds., After the Exile (Macon, 1996), pp. 23-57.
3
See his Psalms (Anchor Bible 16, 17, 17a; Garden City, 1965, 1968, 1970), esp.
vol. III, pp. xli-lii; also Proverbs and Northwest Semitic Philology (Rome, 1963).
62 john goldingay

Death

What happens when someone dies? What happens after death is pictured
in a way that reflects what happens to the body in particular.4 When
someone dies, their body becomes lifeless and incapable of activity,
though it does not cease to exist. Yahweh who gave their breath now
takes it away (Ps. 104:29). Normally and ideally the body is put into
a pit or a cave, where it joins the remains of members of the person’s
family who have already died, or into a communal grave. Where
necessary, the remains of the existent bodies, from which the flesh is
now gone so that they comprise only bones, are moved to make room
for the new corpse; the pit or cave is then re-closed.
So death involves going down to the soil (‘apar; 22:16, 30 [15, 29]),
back to that from which we came (90:3)—deathly soil (22:16 [15]),
where the worm consumes (Job 17:14). We go to destruction (Ps.
88:12 [11]).5 We go down to the pit (Ps. 28:1; 30:4, 10 [3, 9]; 88:5
[4]; 143:7). We go down to silence (115:17), to a place of darkness
(49:20 [19]; 88:7, 13 [6, 12]; 143:3) like that of a deep ravine (23:4).
Death is like an extreme form of sleep (13:4 [3]; 76:6-7 [5-6]; 90:5
MT). Job 3:11-19 especially emphasizes the point, no doubt with
some irony: death is above all a place of rest, not least for people such
as the tired, the prisoner, and the slave—and a sufferer such as Job.
It is a sleep from which one never wakes (14:12). Ec. 6:4-5 also sees
death as a place of darkness and rest but adds that there are advan-
tages to never having seen what happens on earth (4:1-3). 6
Presumably the empirical evidence for the fate of the outer person
suggests the conceptualization for the fate of the inner person or the

4
See classically N.J. Tromp, Primitive Conceptions of Death and the Nether World in the
Old Testament (Rome, 1969); also O. Keel, Die Welt der altorientalischen Bildsymbolik und
das Alte Testament (Neukirchen, 1972), translated as The Symbolism of the Biblical World
(London and New York, 1978), chap. ii, 1; M. Krieg, Todesbilder im Alten Testament
(Zurich, 1988), 2 vols.
5
NRSV transliterates as Abaddon, but the word has the article here, though not
at Job 26:6; 28:22; 31:12; Prov. 15:11; 27:20.
6
On the ambivalent attitude to death in Ecclesiastes (and Job), see J.L. Crenshaw,
“The Shadow of Death in Qoheleth,” in J.G. Gammie, et al., eds., Israelite Wisdom
(Missoula, 1978), pp. 205-216 = Crenshaw, Urgent Advice and Probing Questions (Macon,
1995), pp. 573-585. J.C. de Moor, “Lovable Death in the Ancient Near East,” UF 22
[1990], pp. 233-245, describes a parallel ambiguity elsewhere; cf., also T. Jacobsen,
“Death in Mesopotamia,” in B. Alster, ed., Death in Mesopotamia (Copenhagen, 1980),
pp. 19-24.
 death and afterlife in the psalms 63

inner fate of the person. It is this fact that underlies similarities with
the conceptualizations of other peoples,7 as much as direct influence
of one culture on another. At death the inner person also becomes
lifeless and incapable of its distinctive activities, such as knowledge,
thinking, and worship. According to Ps. 39:14 [13] death means, “I
depart and am no more” (‘enenni), but the general assumption is that
at death the inner person no more ceases to exist than the outer
person does, and perhaps the idea in Ps. 39 is “I am here no more.”
It too joins the remains of other dead people, specifically one’s fam-
ily, in a non-physical equivalent of their pit or cave or the communal
grave, a place of silence and darkness.
This can be referred to as Death, as if that is a place (e.g., Ps. 6:6
[5]): it is difficult to be sure precisely when to capitalize the word, but
to do so sometimes seems appropriate, and the same is true of the
related terms. But the one proper name for the abode of the dead is
Sheol (e.g., 6:6 [5]); the name’s etymology is a matter of speculation
and does not seem to affect its meaning in the Hebrew Bible. Sheol
is located beneath the ground, like the grave, so that one goes down
there or would have to rise from there (88:11 [10]) or be lifted from
there (9:14 [13]); but once you go down to Sheol, you do not come
back up (Job 7:7-10; cf., 14:7-14; 16:22). The reference to going back
to Sheol in Ps. 9:18 [17]) is likely metonymy for going back to the soil
(see above), an instance of the interpenetration of the ideas of what
happens to the outer person and to the inner person. For “the ideas
of the grave and of Sheol cannot be separated” 8 though neither can
they be simply identified. Their relationship indeed mirrors that of
the outer person and the inner person.
Parallelism and content similarly indicate that many references to
a/the Pit and to Destruction allude to the location of the dead person
rather than that of merely the dead body (e.g., 16:10). Sometimes it
is difficult to be sure whether “the pit” refers to something physical or
metaphysical (e.g., 49:10 [9]); perhaps the better way to make the
point is to say that the text may not always make a distinction be-
tween these two aspects of that pit to which the person goes. Refer-
ences to “the depths of the earth” (63:10 [9]; cf., 71:20), “deepest
Sheol” (86:13), “the lowest pit, the darkest depths” (88:7 [6]), or the

7
E.g., Greek as well as middle eastern: see O. Kaiser and E. Lohse, Tod und Leben
(Stuttgart, 1977), pp. 7-80, 143-157; translated as Death and Life (Nashville, 1981).
8
J. Pedersen, Israel: Its Life and Culture I-II (London, 1926), p. 461.
64 john goldingay

grave-pit (55:24 [23])9 may reflect the belief that there are gradations
in Sheol (cf., Ezek. 31:18), but in this context they are more likely
rhetorical devices.10
In Ps. 18:5-6 [4-5], beliyya‘al appears in parallelism with Death and
Sheol. Its etymological implication is “Worthlessness,” though this
makes poor sense as a term equivalent to Death and Sheol. It is
probably a secondary pointing of a proper noun that had a more
sinister meaning, though there is insufficient evidence for us to decide
what the noun meant or what kind of noun it was (see, e.g., B. Otzen
in TWAT). In later Jewish writings, Belial became a term for Satan
(see references in The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew), but there is no
indication of this usage in the Hebrew Bible; here Worthlessness is
personified like Death and Sheol, but not hypostasized.
Like the grave, Sheol is a place of silence (31:18 [17]; cf., 94:17;
115:17). Among the dead there is no commemorating of God (6:6
[5]), no testimony or thanksgiving for what God has done (6:6 [5];
30:10 [9]; 88:11 [10]), no making known or telling of God’s faithful-
ness or commitment or just acts (30:10 [9]; 88:12-13 [11-12]), no
praising of God (115:17). YHWH does not work wonders there
(88:11, 13 [10, 12]), so there is nothing to commemorate, give thanks
for, make known, or tell of. The dead are people who are put out of
God’s mind and are (therefore) cut off from the activity of God’s
hand (88:6 [5]); in context, Ps. 31:13 [12] also seems to refer to being
put out of God’s mind and therefore not being people for whom God
acts. Death is a land that YHWH puts out of mind (88:13 [12]). It is
his collocation of ideas, which explains why there is no praise in
Sheol, not the fact that the dead are tainted, to which idea the Psalms
do not allude. The dead cannot commemorate and give praise for
YHWH’s deeds not because they stand outside the orbit of worship
but because they stand outside the orbit in which YHWH acts; they
therefore have no deeds to commemorate or give praise for. 11
9
M.E. Tate (Psalms 51-100; WBC 20; Dallas, 1990) suggests “pit of corruption,”
following LXX. NRSV renders “the lowest pit.”
10
Indeed, perhaps we should not press the picture in Ezek. 31, any more than
that in Is. 14: “Isa 14:9-21 no more than Lk 16:19-31 had as its purpose to offer a
serious [i.e., literal—it was very serious] description of the geography or other cir-
cumstances of the afterworld” (B. Vawter, “Postexilic Prayer and Hope,” in Catholic
Biblical Quarterly 37 [1975], pp. 460-470 [see p. 469]).
11
Contrast B.S. Childs, Memory and Tradition in Israel (London, 1962), p. 71; G. von
Rad, Theologie des Alten Testaments (Munich, 1962), vol. 1, p. 381; translated as Old
Testament Theology (Edinburgh and New York, 1962), vol. 1, p. 369. Von Rad later
hints at the second understanding (p. 401, English translation: p. 389).
 death and afterlife in the psalms 65

The point is put even more sharply by Ecclesiastes, for whom

death itself is a major theme, the reality in whose light all life must be
lived (7:1-4). The substance of the book closes by pressing the nature
of old age and death, much of it in picture language that puzzles
interpreters (11:7-12:7). The most systematic and straightforward
treatment comes in 9:1-12. Death is indiscriminate and unpredict-
able: it comes to all, no matter the moral or religious commitment,
and we have no control over it (vv. 1-3, 11-12; cf., 2:14; 3:19-21; 8:8).
Death means the end of hope (v. 4), knowledge (vv. 5, 10), reward (v.
5), being remembered (v. 5), feeling (v. 6), sharing in what happens (v.
6), work (v. 10), thought (v. 10), and wisdom (v. 10). Life is short (2:3)
and death is long (11:8). Death relativizes all human achievement
(5:12-15 [13-16]).
While the Psalms most commonly express this awareness of the
nature of death in the context of reference to the early death of the
wicked or of someone being treated as if they were wicked (e.g., Ps.
6), there is no hint that the experience of eventual death on the part
of the righteous is different, though it may be more acceptable. In-
deed, the idea that death ideally occurs when one is “full of days”
(Job 42:17) suggests not merely resigned acceptance of death’s inevi-
tability but willing acceptance of its appropriateness; one has had
enough and death’s time has come. Even if death is seen as a regret-
table end to life, there is no indication that people feared death.
“Fear” and “death” come together only in the context of discussion
of the apparent greater vulnerability of the less wealthy and powerful
(Ps. 49:6, 17 [5, 16]). The “terrors of death” in Ps. 55:5 [4] do recall
the characterization in the Assyrian “Vision of the World Below”
(ANET, pp. 109-110), but in context the phrase more likely refers to
the personified assaults of God’s wrath that threaten and bring death
than to death itself12 (indeed “the terrors of death” may in any case
be “deadly terrors”).13 Death was a sad but natural and not frighten-
ing end to life.14 To say that “the Psalms only knew terror of the
grave”15 is quite misleading. Indeed, Job 7:14-15 sees death as an
escape from frightening dreams and visions.

12
See Tate, pp. 403-404.
13
So D.W. Thomas, “A Consideration of Some Unusual Ways of Expressing the
Superlative in Hebrew,” in Vetus Testamentum 3 (1953), pp. 209-224 (see p. 221).
14
See J. Barr, The Garden of Eden and the Hope of Immortality (London, 1992), pp. 21-
56.
15
Pedersen, p. 463.
66 john goldingay

The dead are called repa’im in Ps. 88:11 [10] (also Job 26:5; Prov
2:18; 9:18; 21:16). The word’s etymology and/or its usage in Ugaritic
might suggest entities who are faded and powerless or alternatively
might suggest heroes with healing powers, but the context of its usage
in the Hebrew Bible gives no clue as to its connotations there. 16
So Death cuts us off from God. This is not to say that Death is a
power of its own or a realm YHWH cannot enter. If YHWH is the
one who kills and enlivens, then evidently Death is not a power to
rival YHWH, and demons need not be feared (Ps. 91:5-6). It is
YHWH who determines that people go to Sheol; the torrential wa-
ters that overwhelm the Israelite are YHWH’s torrential waters (42:8
[7]). YHWH can reach into Sheol at will, so that one could not
escape YHWH in Sheol; YHWH would be there (Ps. 139:8). Sheol
and Destruction are naked and defenseless before God (Job 26:6; cf.,
Prov 15:11). “Mwt is in the employ of God.”17

The Realm of Death. Sometimes Death is pictured as a city with gates,

corresponding to Zion’s city with its gates (Ps. 9:14-15 [13-14];
107:18).18 It is so in the Assyrian story of Ishtar’s Descent to the
“Land of No Return” with its seven gates (ANET, pp. 106-9). We do
not know whether Israelites also told colorful and specific stories
about Sheol like those of other peoples or whether this note in the
Psalms is an isolated motif. There is some indication elsewhere in the
Hebrew Bible that life in Sheol partly mirrors life on earth. Kings on
earth are also kings in Sheol, though this does them little good (like
being a king after the nuclear holocaust). Indeed positions may be
reversed. This may be the point of the statement in Ps. 49:15 [14]
that “the upright will rule over them at morning,” though “at morn-
ing” usually denotes the moment of God’s intervention in this life (cf.,
30:6 [5]); perhaps the text has been repointed to introduce a refer-
ence to something happening after death (compare NRSV).
Death is also a raging torrent that overwhelms people (18:5, 17 [4,

16
See Schmidt, pp. 267-273.
17
H.J. Kraus, Psalmen: 1. Teilband (Neukirchen, 1978); translated as Psalms 1-59
(Minneapolis, 1988), on 49:15 [14].
18
There was no way out of this city except by a miracle, but this hardly indicates
that reference to gates with bars in itself suggests that Sheol is thereby described as a
prison: so W. Eichrodt, Theologie des Alten Testaments (3 vols.: Leipzig, 1933, 1935,
1939; rev. ed., 2 vols., Stuttgart, 1957, 1961), vol. 1, p. 58; translated as Theology of the
Old Testament (London and Philadelphia, 1961, 1967), vol. 2, p. 95.
 death and afterlife in the psalms 67

16]). Other references to deep waters and tumultuous waves or rivers

(e.g., 88:8 [7]) may also suggest the torrents of Death, though torrents
and tumultuous waters can stand more generally for supernatural
forces of disorder (e.g., 42:7); the overlap parallels that between the
Ugaritic story of Baal and Death and that of Baal and Sea.
In Ps. 69:15-16 [14-15], three descriptions of death interweave: it
involves being overwhelmed by torrents, being overcome by enemies,
and having the Pit close its mouth. In Ps. 18:5-6 [4-5], Death,
Worthlessness, and Sheol are equipped with ropes and snares de-
signed to catch people as well as torrents to overwhelm them. Ps.
116:3 adds the “straits of Sheol,”19 but neither the word’s etymology
nor the other occurrences of this or related words suggest physical
pain in particular, and “straits” well fits the other occurrence in Ps.
118:5 with the contrast with “a broad place.” Although it might have
been natural to imagine the process of decomposition as involving
pain and therefore by analogy to think of Sheol as a place of pain,
this inference is not generally drawn. Ps. 116:3b may imply at least
“anguish” if not “pangs” in verse 3a, which will then be a metonymy
for the anguish of this kind of death, after undeserved affliction. The
converse is the regret in Ps. 73:4 (MT) that the wicked die an easy
death.20
Some of these statements in Pss. 18 and 69 picture Sheol or Death
as not so much a place as a person; in Ps. 116, too, the straits of
Sheol “find” the psalmist, which is at least a personification. In Ps.
49:15 [14], Death shepherds people (or feeds on them), leading them
to Sheol. More vividly, in Ps. 141:7 “our bones are strewn at the
mouth of Sheol,” where the monster Death has left them after con-
suming the flesh.21 Sheol and Destruction are never satisfied (Prov
27:20). This is at least a vivid declaration that death is unavoidable:
is it more? In the background of the statements in Ps. 18, too, one
can see the imagery of belief in the gods Death and Sea, and subse-
quent reference to the “many waters” from which YHWH rescues
the psalmist is combined with reference to the psalmist’s “strong

19
Cf., BDB on me×ar; NRSV renders “pangs” (cf., JPS).
20
The line may be another reference to the fetters of Death: see M. Mannati,
“Les adorateurs de Môt dans le Psaume lxxiii,” in Vetus Testamentum 22 (1972), pp.
420-425.
21
See J.B. Burns, “An Interpretation of Psalm cxli 7b,” in Vetus Testamentum 22
(1972), pp. 245-246.
68 john goldingay

enemy” (vv. 17-18). In Job 18:13-14, similarly, the Firstborn of Death

or Firstborn Death consumes the wicked, who appear before Death
as “king of terrors.”22
On the other hand, Ps. 18 goes on to refer to “those who hated me”
who were “too mighty for me” and later speaks further in the plural
(vv. 38-49 [37-48]). The enemy might thus be the psalmist’s human
adversary rather than Death. The terms in vv. 5-6 [4-5] are then
comments on or metaphors for the strength of the forces against
which the psalmist was fighting, forces that are more consistently
described as human and physical. Two conceptualities also appear in
Ps. 63:10-11 [9-10], here in tension with each other, for the language
moves from going down into the depths of the earth to being slain in
battle and left unburied and therefore not even properly at rest in
Sheol. Conversely Ps. 124:3-5 begins by speaking of enemies swal-
lowing us alive, recalling the story in Num. 16, but goes on to speak
of a torrent of seething water overwhelming us and carrying us off,
which more explicitly recalls the torrents of Death (cf., Exod. 15:12,
where talk of “earth swallowing them” comes in the context of a
narrative that speaks of waters overwhelming people; also Is. 5:14).
Another reminder of the story in Num. 16 comes in a weird wish that
the psalmist’s enemies may “go down to Sheol alive” (Ps. 55:16 [15]:
the preceding clause is obscure). It is a very vivid image for sudden
death, death that comes so quickly that people are, as it were, still
alive when they die (cf., Prov. 1:12).
The alternation between “my enemy” and “my adversaries” also
features in Pss. 13 and 31. While we may thus allow for the presence
of Death, it seems unwise to exclude the human adversaries in such
passages by interpreting the plural as a plural of majesty that also
refers to Death (so Dahood). More likely, such passages reflect an
assumption that the conflict involved both human and supernatural
forces. But the Psalms are characteristically restrained or reticent in
articulating a view of their nature, compared with other middle east-
ern texts. L.R. Bailey argues that the latter attach more literal signifi-
cance to their references to death’s deities, demons, and ghosts and to
the fears these aroused.23 The Psalms’ combining of motifs that recall
the conflict of Baal and Sea and that of Baal and Death supports the
idea that they also utilize motifs for death in a way more parallel to

22
See D.J.A. Clines, Job 1-20 (WBC 17; Dallas, 1989), on the passage.
23
See Biblical Perspectives on Death (Philadelphia, 1979), pp. 5-21.
 death and afterlife in the psalms 69

the way English may speak of “being at death’s door,” of death’s

“taking” someone from us, or of “fighting death.”

Fullness of Life and Death in Life. The poetic books talk much of illness,
depression, and defeat and, naturally enough, picture these experi-
ences as taking us near death: I have been dying all my life, Ps. 88:16
[15] declares. They also picture these experiences as resembling
death: to lie ill, incapable of much movement or thought and not
knowing God’s presence to deliver and therefore not being able to
worship is to experience something like death. They also go beyond
that in picturing them as actual experiences of death.24
Ps. 88, the psalm most dominated by death, puts matters in all
three ways: “my life has arrived at Sheol.... I have become...like the
slain that lie in the grave.... You have put me in the deepest Pit” (vv.
4-7 [3-6]: Hopsi in v. 6 [5] is a puzzle). For the first verb, NRSV’s
“draws near” undertranslates naga’, which suggests reaching the gates
(cf., 107:18) even though still being outside the city. The experience
of being on the edge of death is vividly portrayed in verses noted
above: “Death’s ropes encompassed me, the torrents of Worthless-
ness were overwhelming me, Sheol’s ropes surrounded me, Death’s
snares confronted me” (18:5-6 [4-5]). Ps. 69:2-3 [1-2] takes the pic-
ture further. The waters have not only come up to my neck—they
have overwhelmed me, and I am drowning. With superficial contra-
diction, the psalm later urges that the waters should not overwhelm
me or (to change the imagery) the Pit close its mouth over me (vv. 15-
16 [14-15]). Ps. 143:3, 7, too, uses the imagery of actual death (he has
crushed my life to the earth), of an experience like death (making me
dwell in darkness like those long dead), and of being near death (I
shall be like those who go down to the Pit). The vivid image of the
scattering of bones near Sheol’s mouth (141:7) relates to an experi-
ence within life.
Corresponding to Ps. 88, Ps. 30 is the most systematic description
of deliverance from death, which means both deliverance from the
company of those who have gone down to the Pit (v. 4 [3]) and
deliverance from the prospect of going down to the Pit (v. 10 [9]). As
death involves a downward movement into the Pit, so restoration to

24
See classically C. Barth, Die Erretung vom Tode in den individuellen Klage- und Dank-
liedern des Alten Testaments (Zollikon, 1947); A.R. Johnson, The Vitality of the Individual in
the Thought of Ancient Israel (Cardiff, 1949; 2nd ed., 1964).
70 john goldingay

life involves an upward movement from Sheol (v. 4 [3]), a lifting up

like that of a pail from the waters (v. 2 [1]; cf., 71:20).
The different ways of putting the matter suggest that we should be
neither too literal nor too figurative in interpreting the Psalms’ lan-
guage. The language of actual death suggests the deathly awfulness of
what has happened, but the comparison and the talk of death’s near-
ness imply that this is metaphor and also leave open the possibility of
YHWH’s intervening. It is not the case that the Psalms’ language
reflects “primitive thinking” that did not really distinguish between
life and death.25 Yet there is a sense in which life and death are more
like overlapping experiences than watertight compartments.
To put it another way, life itself is a spectrum of experiences: there
is ordinary life, there is living death, and there is fullness of life. The
opposite of God’s abandoning us to Sheol and causing us to see the
Pit is God’s making known to us the living journey and our discover-
ing that there is joyful fullness in YHWH’s presence and that delights
are ever at YHWH’s right hand (16:10-11). It is to know YHWH’s
deliverance and blessing in the land of the living.

Lasting Life. Associated with fullness of life is life l‘olam. Indeed, ac-
cording to Ps. 21:5 [4], in response to a prayer for “life,” YHWH
granted the king length of days ‘olam wa‘ed (NRSV: “forever and
ever”). In what sense?
If the Hebrew Bible wanted to suggest something like eternity, for
instance in affirming that YHWH was without beginning and with-
out end, had always existed and always would exist, it could well use
the terms ‘olam and ‘ed. Thus Ps. 90:2 describes the Lord as being
God before the world’s creation, m‘olam ‘ad-‘olam. Coincidentally (?),
the Psalter’s last use of this language draws attention to a distinction
between the totality of YHWH’s life and the totality of the worship-
per’s. I will praise YHWH all my life (146:2); but YHWH will reign
l‘olam (v. 10).
But such words’ characteristic usage is more limited in its reach.
Retrospectively, Ps. 143:3 refers to the “long dead [mete ‘olam]” (cf.,
Lam. 3:6). Prospectively, Amos describes Edom as holding onto an-
ger “ceaselessly [l‘ad]” (1:11, JPS). When Ps. 52:10-11 [8-9] speaks of
trusting YHWH ‘olam wa‘ed and praising YHWH l‘olam, then, that

25
See, e.g., C.C. Broyles, The Conflict of Faith and Experience in the Psalms (Sheffield,
1989), pp. 84-89.
 death and afterlife in the psalms 71

can naturally denote the whole of the person’s life; the same is true of
an expression such as lador wador (e.g., 89:2 [1]). There is no need at
all for this to suggest the whole of eternity, nor for such phrases to be
understood as hyperbolic royal or implicitly messianic language (cf.,
among many passages, 15:5; 30:7, 13 [6, 12]; 37:27-29 [26-28]; 61:5,
7-9 [4, 6-8]; 73:12, 26; 112:3, 6, 9; 121:8; 145:1-2, 21). Ps. 48:15 [14]
(MT) may make the point explicit: YHWH is “our God l‘olam wa‘ed ;
he will lead us on ‘al-mut.” While A. Weiser translates the last phrase
“beyond [über] death,”26 and S. Mowinckel offers “against Death,”
KJV more plausibly understands “until death.”27 But LXX’s eis tous
aionas may imply the pointing ‘olamot (the reading of many medieval
Hebrew MSS.); BHS suggests further possibilities. If Ps. 72:5 should
be emended so as to constitute a prayer that the king lives as long as
sun and moon (e.g., NRSV), then this will be a hyperbole, but the
hyperbole would be unparalleled and this may suggest that MT
should stand.
The delights that are ever at YHWH’s hand (16:11) are thus the
enjoyment of the righteous throughout their lives. There are no
grounds for extending the “ever” (nesah) beyond death. The idea in
Ps. 21 is similarly that the king will enjoy life for the greatest possible
fullness of time and not experience it cut off before its time (v. 5 [4]),
and throughout that long time will experience the blessings of divine
strength, help, honor, majesty, joy, and security (v. 7 [6]). In Ps. 41:9-
13 [8-12]. Being enabled to stand before YHWH’s face l‘olam is one
aspect of being restored to this-worldly life. The face or presence of
YHWH can be located in heaven (e.g., 18:7 [6]), or in YHWH’s
earthly shrine (e.g., 24:6; 42:3 [2]), or in life in the world (e.g., 9:4, 20
[3, 19]; 31:17 [16]; 34:17 [16]; 44:4 [3]; 56:14 [13]; 116:9; 140:14
[13]). The link between these is suggested by Ps. 50:1-6. In Ps. 41, as
in many other passages, the phraseology suggests living the whole of
one’s life before YHWH’s face and thus with YHWH’s protection
and blessing—or YHWH’s attack, in the case of the wicked (9:4 [3];
cf., Lam 4:16).

Early Death. In the Psalms, the dominant question regarding death is

whether the wicked die before their time, as they should, and
26
See on this passage Die Psalmen (Gottingen, 6th ed., 1963; translated (5th ed.) as
The Psalms (OTL; London and Philadelphia, 1962).
27
The Psalms in Israel’s Worship (Oxford and Nashville, 1963; English translation of
Offersang og sangoffer (Oslo, 1951), p. 182.
72 john goldingay

whether the just escape early death and live long lives, as they should
(e.g., 26:9; 28:1-3; 31:18 [17]; 33:18-19; 37:35-38; 55:24 [23]; 56:14
[13]; 102:24-25 [23-24]; cf., Job, e.g., 20:1-29; 21:1-34; Prov 11:4).
The Psalter indeed opens with a promise that the wicked will not be
able to stand in court; YHWH recognizes (yada‘) the journey of the
just, whereas the journey of the wicked fades away (1:5-6). If the
“court” or “judgment” (mishpat) there refers to YHWH’s judgment on
the wicked, then presumably like all other references to this court in
the Hebrew Bible, this is not a “Final Judgment” (Dahood) but
YHWH’s judgment worked out in life. But the parallelism may sug-
gest that the court is the Israelite assembly (cf., 111:1) in which the
wicked will have no share because they will be swept away.
The Psalter follows this opening with an exhortation to kings to
serve YHWH with reverence lest YHWH become angry and they
indeed fade away on their journey (2:11-12). Ps. 9:18 [17] declares
that “the wicked will depart to Sheol, all the nations that put God out
of mind,” which might suggest that the just will never so fade away,
but the context has made clear that this is not the issue. The psalm’s
topic is God’s involvement in political events in the now, bringing
death to the wicked and deliverance to the weak (vv. 4, 13, 18 [3, 12,
17]). It is in this sense that death results from YHWH’s anger (e.g.,
2:12) and that YHWH is one who kills (78:31, 34) and enlivens (30:4
[3]; 80:19 [18]).
Ps. 39:5-7 [4-6] is widely regarded as a reflection on the brevity of
human life in general and as making a request (“make known to me
my end”) that is essentially rhetorical, for the psalmist goes on to
demonstrate possession of the requested knowledge. This under-
standing seems incoherent in itself and makes for an incoherent un-
derstanding of the psalm as a whole. The psalm’s problem is again
the experience of life-threatening illness, which is brought about by
God as a chastisement for wrongdoing (vv. 9-11 [8-10]). The psalmist
believes that the right response to divine chastisement is silent sub-
mission (v. 10 [9]) but has a hard time maintaining this stance in the
presence of a/the wicked person (vv. 2-4 [1-3]), apparently someone
more scandalously wicked than the psalmist. Perhaps this points to
the frequently expressed conviction that the psalmist’s experience is
not fair when contrasted with that of people who live happy and full
lives despite their wickedness, though the reference is allusive.
The plea “YHWH, make known to me my end, what is the meas-
ure of my days” (v. 5a [4a]) is indeed then a rhetorical one, but verses
 death and afterlife in the psalms 73

5b-6a [4b-5a] provide not its answer but its background. Given that
the psalmist is threatened by death, the plea asks how long it will be
before the psalmist’s illness issues in death. Like a rhetorical question,
the plea neither expects nor wants an answer: its real purpose is to
motivate YHWH to respond to the appeal in vv. 9, 13-14 [8, 12-13]
and invalidate whatever would be the literal implicit answer to the
question by delivering the psalmist. The general reflection in vv. 6b-
7 [5b-6] then concerns the general vulnerability of human life, which
the psalmist’s experience has brought home. It does not concern the
general shortness of human life: this is an irrelevant theme and one
that obscures the psalmist’s problem, which is the fact that a person
may lose his or her life without reason to expect this. The problem in
v. 6b [5b] is thus the one pressed by Ecclesiastes (e.g., 6:1-2), that you
may work hard to accumulate wealth but never have chance to enjoy
it. Even the bitterness of death (Ec. 7:26) is, in the context, the
bitterness of being snatched by death “unfairly” (cf., the comments
on bitterness and death in 1 Sam. 15:32; Amos 8:10). There is little
evidence that “Israel joined in the lament made by all religions and
cultures over the bitterness of dying.”28
The same is true of Ps. 144. This reworking of Ps. 1829 incorpo-
rates in vv. 3-4 a comment on the brevity of human life that itself
reworks Ps. 8:5 [4] and 39:6-7 [5-6] and perhaps 102:12 [11]. In the
context it is a comment that relates to someone’s being threatened
with death before their time. The same is true of the reworking of Ps.
8 in Job 7:17-18.
Another mark of the Psalter’s focus on early death is the observa-
tion that the death of a whole nation or the death of the wicked
means that their name is blotted out or fades away (9:6 [5]; 41:6 [5];
83:5 [4]; 109:13). In itself, death would not mean this (see, e.g., Deut.
25:5-7; 2 Sam. 18:18); one’s name and one’s memory would be pre-
served in one’s family. Thus Ps. 102:24-29 [23-28] contrasts
YHWH’s willingness to shorten the psalmist’s life with YHWH’s own
longevity and then closes by rejoicing in the fact that at least one’s
descendants live on securely before YHWH.
Different dynamics attach to discussion of the question of early
death and long life in a society in which many people died of illness
(or through accident or battle) long before they reached “seventy

28
Von Rad, p. 402 (English: p. 389).
29
On the psalm, see L.C. Allen, Psalms 101-150 (WBC 21; Waco, 1983).
74 john goldingay

years, or perhaps eighty” (Ps. 90:10). This forms part of the back-
ground to the fact that many expressions of the view that life in
general is inherently empty and meaningless are comments that re-
late to the experience of life’s not working out as it should, rather
than the reflections of people who live healthy and peaceful lives.
The emphasis on the inherent hardness and emptiness of life charac-
teristic of Job (e.g., 7:1-6) fits into this pattern.

Fullness of Life after Death?

We have noted that Mitchell Dahood found many references to eter-

nal life in the Psalms and elsewhere, often in the consonantal rather
than the vocalized text and often on the basis of a comparison with
Ugaritic texts. There are a number of difficulties with his thesis in
principle.30 It presupposes that the Masoretes’ pointing was innova-
tive (and therefore quite likely wrong) rather than traditional (and
therefore more likely right). In assuming that Ugaritic grammar and
meanings apply to Hebrew along with Hebrew grammar and seman-
tics as already understood, it assumes that Hebrew was characterized
by a much greater degree of syntactical and semantic variety and
ambiguity than had previously been thought. And, in doing so, it
ignores the distance of time and place between second millennium
Ugarit and first millennium Israel. In addition, it frequently has to
rely on understandings of the Ugaritic texts that are themselves hypo-
thetical.31 These difficulties make it appropriate to be hesitant in
accepting Dahood’s new interpretations of texts. For instance,
Dahood reworks the introduction to Ps. 18 to read “from the hand of
Sheol” rather than “from the hand of Saul.” He avoids emendation
in Ps. 22:30 [29] by inferring usage of the Ugaritic/Aramaic relative
pronoun dî. He declares that some references to YHWH’s house
allude to YHWH’s heavenly abode: e.g., Ps. 27:4 “is a prayer for
eternal bliss with Yahweh in heaven.” He assumes that statements
about divine immortality in Ugaritic texts can be used to illumine
statements about human life that is explicitly not immortal. He postu-

30
See, e.g., P.C. Craigie, Psalms 1-50 (WBC 19; Waco, 1983), esp. pp. 48-56, and
his references.
31
See, e.g., O. Loretz’s comments on life after death in the Ugaritic texts and in
the Psalms in Die Psalmen: Teil II (Neukirchen, 1979), pp. 462-468.
 death and afterlife in the psalms 75

lates a word rega‘ meaning Death in passages such as 6:11 [10]

(repointed) and 30:6 [5], or a word ’ur (repointed), which means
“[Elysian] field” in passages such as 36:10 [9]. Such procedures seem
arbitrary.32
Fortunately, in many cases Dahood offers a variant “take” on
passages other critical scholars also have believed to refer to a positive
afterlife. This means that, when we consider these latter examples,
we are also considering texts that illustrate Dahood’s approach. My
conclusion is that an examination of the key passages in the Psalms in
their context makes it unlikely that any of them refer to a positive
afterlife.

Psalms 11, 16, and 17. Before Dahood, for instance, BDB (p. 302) had
already suggested that Pss. 11 and 17 refer to a seeing of God after
death. Both understand the affliction of the righteous as YHWH’s
testing; they thus represent Job in miniature and recall the enigmatic
reference to seeing God in Job 19:26-27. 33 Ps. 11:6-7 contrasts the
fates of the wicked and the upright. YHWH will rain fire and sulfur
on the former, while the latter will see YHWH’s face. That precise
expectation reappears in 17:15, though it is otherwise rare. But simi-
lar expressions occur in other Psalms, such as seeking God’s face,
appearing before God’s face, God’s face shining, and the common
plaint concerning God’s face being hidden (e.g., 27:8-9; 31:17 [16];
42:3 [2]). Elsewhere seeing God is the distinctive privilege of Moses
(e.g., Num. 12:8) and the elders at Sinai (Exod. 24:11), but such
passages do suggest that if the seeing of God takes place at all, it is an
experience on earth.
In light of later theologies, one might re-read Ps. 11 as referring to

32
J.F. Healey has argued that the king had a distinctive place in the Ugaritic
realm of the dead (“Underworld and Afterlife in the Ugaritic Texts;” Diss., London,
1977) and then that Ps. 36 is among a number of psalms that refer to the king’s
immortality (“The Immortality of the King,” in Orientalia n.s. 23 (1984), pp. 245-54);
Day (p. 235) comments, “most of these psalms contain no clear reference to the
afterlife and most of them have no obvious reference to the king either.”
33
While there are irresolvable uncertainties about the translation of this passage,
its setting in Job points conclusively to a concern with an experience on earth. It has
been reinterpreted to refer to a belief in a future redeemer and to a seeing of God
after death; but neither of these ideas is required by the words, fits the narrow
context (see v. 27b), makes sense in the light of the rest of Job’s speeches, or coheres
with the rest of the book. Elihu also speaks of seeing God’s face after being restored
from near-death (Job 33:26: NRSV’s intransitive rendering “comes into his pres-
ence” is odd).
76 john goldingay

the fires of hell and the seeing of God in heaven. But in its context in
the Hebrew Bible, it denotes the earthly punishment of the wicked
and the earthly joy of the upright who are delivered from danger and
survive testing to see God’s face. Again, in later parlance, “seeing
God’s face” might refer to a religious experience (e.g., in the Tem-
ple), but there is no clear parallel for that in the Hebrew Bible. When
God’s face turns to us it means that God acts, and “seeing God’s
face” implies “seeing God act with favor” and refers not to the con-
sequence of being vindicated and restored to full life but to that
vindication and restoration itself in this life.
Ps. 17:14 speaks of the wicked as people “whose portion in life is in
this world” (NRSV) or “whose reward is in this life” (NIV), which
could be understood as pointing to a contrast with the just as people
who have a portion or reward in another life or world. But the line is
obscure; JPS renders “whose share in life is fleeting.” The psalm goes
on to draw a contrast: “I myself will behold your face in justice. I will
be filled with your image in waking.” NRSV and NIV plausibly
imply that the verb “behold” continues its force into the second
colon, so that the line may reduce prosaically to “When I myself
behold your face/image, justified and awake, I will be filled.” The
expectation of seeing YHWH’s image (temunah) is even more ex-
traordinary than that of simply seeing YHWH’s face, as is appropri-
ate in the second colon in parallelism. The word usually denotes
something forbidden (Exod. 20:4; Deut. 4:12-25; 5:8), but again see-
ing YHWH’s image is once the distinctive privilege of Moses (Num.
12:8), and there too the word is associated with seeing YHWH’s face.
As in Ps. 16:11, the emphasis in Ps. 17 is as much on the fullness of
joy as on the fact of seeing.
In context, it is unlikely that “waking” denotes waking from ordi-
nary sleep or that it refers to YHWH’s waking (the psalmist has not
accused YHWH of sleeping). In Job 14:12, it denotes waking from
death as something Job knows will not happen, while in Dan. 12:2 it
denotes something that will indeed happen (cf., Is. 26:19, perhaps
metaphorically). Dahood takes it in this sense here. But the context
works against this. The whole psalm has worked with a contrast
between the just and the wicked that manifests itself in this life; to
introduce an after-death awakening in the last line is to take the
psalm in an alien direction. Rather, the last verse restates the hope of
recovering from a “living death” experience. The reference to “jus-
tice” suggests the vindication of the righteous; the word forms an
 death and afterlife in the psalms 77

inclusion with the psalm’s opening line and matches the concern of
the psalm as a whole with the testing of the righteous. To think of
this as a vindication after death (Dahood) is again to introduce an
incoherence into the psalm. Like Job’s, this vindication is a this-
worldly matter. As in Ps. 11 and Job 19, “seeing God’s face” refers to
the experience of God’s acting, healing, and vindicating, which indi-
cate that God’s face is turned back to us and is not hidden, and the
fullness that comes from that.
We have noted that the wording of Ps. 16:11 suggests that joyful
fullness in YHWH’s presence and lasting delights at YHWH’s right
hand belong to this life. Dahood comments on v. 10 that “the psalm-
ist firmly believes that he will be granted the same privilege accorded
Enoch and Elijah; he is convinced that God will assume him to
himself without suffering the pains of death.” While it is entirely
plausible that an individual Israelite might have become convinced
that God would do this, such a conviction is only too falsifiable and,
in the psalmist’s case, presumably was falsified. It seems implausible
that the compilers of the Psalter would have encouraged such expec-
tations on members of the community. To believe in resurrection is
at least to commit oneself to a belief that has the advantage and
disadvantage that it is in this life unfalsifiable.

Psalms 27 and 36. Ps. 27 begins by affirming that YHWH is “the

stronghold/refuge of my life” or “my living stronghold/refuge,” mid-
way looks to “dwell in YHWH’s house all the days of my life, to behold
YHWH’s delight and to inquire in his temple,” and closes by affirming
that “I shall see YHWH’s goodness in the land of the living.” That
final phrase might be rendered “in the land of life.” Even so, the whole
context of the psalm points to a reference to this life, not a future one
(against Dahood). “Dwelling in YHWH’s house all one’s life” is admit-
tedly a puzzling phrase. Dahood again refers it to heaven, but once
more this ill fits the context. Semantically “YHWH’s house” could
perhaps denote YHWH’s land or YHWH’s household, but the paral-
lelism implies that it denotes the Temple; more likely “dwelling” is
clarified by the parallel verb to mean “lingering/staying” in the Tem-
ple from time to time to seek YHWH’s guidance and help. Either way,
it is in YHWH’s powerful and merciful intervention in the land of the
living, which the psalmist seeks in the Temple, that the psalmist
beholds YHWH’s delight (cf., 90:17) or sees YHWH’s goodness (cf.,
4:7 [6]; 16:2; 21:4 [3]; 23:6; 34:9-13 [8-12]; 65:12 [11]).
78 john goldingay

The same point is made in yet further terms in Ps. 36. Once again
the wicked threaten the psalmist, who declares that YHWH’s faith-
fulness and justice are then our refuge (vv. 2-8, 11-13 [1-7, 10-12]).
In the midst of this declaration is the assertion “in your light we see
light” (v. 10 [9]): when YHWH’s light shines brightly, deliverance
comes (cf., 4:7 [6]; 27:1; 43:3; 44:4 [3]; 89:14-18 [13-17]; 97:11).
YHWH is thus “the fountain of life.” In this context the “abundance
of your house” and the “river of your delights” may refer to the
enjoyment of Temple festivities that are the signs and promises of
YHWH’s provision in everyday life, or they may be metaphors. In
the latter case, they are metaphors not for a religious experience in
worship but for YHWH’s bountiful provision of protection and deliv-
erance in life outside worship (cf., 65:10-14 [9-13]; Neh. 9:25).

Psalm 49. Ps. 49 speaks of being persecuted by wealthy people who

are confident of surviving a time of trouble (vv. 6-7 [5-6]). They
ignore the fact that wealth cannot provide a way to evade death,
even for the wise and famous (vv. 8-15 [7-14]). Once more, the psalm
is not a general reflection on mortality but an Ecclesiastes-like com-
ment on the way in which disaster and unexpected death are a reality
for the wise and wealthy as much as for anyone else. Not even verse
10 [9] refers to never seeing the Pit (contrast NRSV, JPS) but to not
seeing the Pit when this experience threatens, so that one is able to
live on to the end, that is, for the rest of one’s expected life (lane×a½:
cf., 16:11). The rich and arrogant fool cannot buy a way out of the
threat of early death, and even wisdom is of limited value in this
connection. But, the psalmist declares, “God will ransom my nepesh;
from the hand of Sheol, yes, he will take me” (v. 16 [15]).
The line is one of the passages that have commonly been under-
stood to denote the hope of a deliverance from Sheol in order to join
God in heaven. But read against the background of the rest of the
Psalms and of other parts of the Hebrew Bible, there is little to point
in this direction. Commentators appeal to the fact that YHWH
“took” Enoch (Gen. 5:24) and Elijah (2 Kgs. 2:3, 5, 9), but there are
several difficulties with this appeal. First, the verb is so common that
it seems questionable whether one can infer an allusion to those
stories; “take” is far from being a “technical term.”34 But second,
even if one does compare the passages, the verb there suggested

34
Against B. Lang, “Afterlife,” in Bible Review 4/1 (1988), pp. 12-23 (see p. 23).
 death and afterlife in the psalms 79

taking the person away from his people rather than out of a situation
of trouble; thus NIV renders “took away” in Gen. 5, while it is the
hiphil of ‘alah that refers to taking Elijah to heaven in 2 Kgs. 2:1.
Third, a better parallel for YHWH’s “taking” the psalmist is thus Ps.
18:17 [16], where YHWH “takes” from deathly peril in the same
sense that we infer here, as elsewhere YHWH “rescues” from Sheol
in this life in the sense of restoring from illness or attack (86:13), or
“restores” (ga‘al) one’s life from the Pit (103:4). Fourth, what happens
to Enoch and Elijah is translation to heaven from this earth rather
than ascension or assumption (Dahood) from Sheol. To appeal to
these parallels thus proves too much, as was the case with Ps. 16. And
if that is to press the linguistic parallel too much, then the appeal to
these parallels fails to have significant value.35
But in any case, the combination of the recurrence of the ransom
image (which referred to something in this life in v. 8 [7]) with the
parallel with Ps. 18 points to a deliverance in this life. The psalmist’s
security with God more than counterbalances the security wealth
gives the rich, for the confidence generated by this wealth proves
false both in the short and long run (vv. 17-21 [16-20]). The psalm
does not contrast the rich, who stay in death, and the wise, who do
not.36

Psalm 73. Once again the psalm relates the experience of being as-
sailed with punishment despite being of unsullied mind and life,
whereas there are people who behave oppressively and arrogantly
who do well in life and come to an easy death. The psalmist did not
know how to live with this problem “until I went into God’s sanctu-
ary and considered their end” (v. 17). NIV “understood their final
destiny” and JPS “reflected on their fate” indicate two different
understandings of this clause. The verb bîn can denote either realiz-
ing something for the first time or paying attention to something
already known. The noun is ‘a½arit, which denotes the end of life
(Prov. 5:11) or specifically death (Num. 23:10; cf., Prov. 5:4-5). In a
similar wisdom-like comment, Jer. 17:11 declares that the unjustly
wealthy will lose their wealth in mid-life and “at their end will prove

35
Thus Lang’s assumption (“Afterlife,” p. 23) that the psalmists are reusing the
language used of Enoch and Elijah to signify reception into heaven after death builds
inference on inference.
36
So von Rad, p. 419 (English: p. 406).
80 john goldingay

fools.” In some way the psalmist’s visit to the sanctuary reinforces the
orthodox conviction that these “wicked” will also fall.
What of the psalmist? “I have been continually with you. You
have held my right hand” (v. 23). The expression “with” (‘im) you is
an unusual one, though a key one in this psalm (see vv. 22, 25);37 it
recurs in Ps. 139:18, though the line is obscure. In 1 Sam. 2:21 it
denotes being with God in the sanctuary. We might then compare
the expression ‘et-penei yhwh in 1 Sam. 2:18, which recurs in Pss.
16:11; 21:7 [6]; 140:14 [13]. These parallels then suggest that BDB is
right that “with you” suggests “in your thought and care” in the
sense suggested by those other passages. This thought and care might
naturally be associated with YHWH’s presence in the sanctuary,
though here the contrast between the visiting of the sanctuary (v. 17)
and the “continually” suggests rather an awareness of having lived
the rest of life “with” God even if one did not realize this. The God
who dwelt there has also been looking after the psalmist’s welfare and
providing protection and blessing in a way that recent experience of
affliction has made the psalmist forget. And this is what is also sug-
gested by “you have held my right hand” (cf., Is. 41:13; 45:1; also Ps.
16:8; 109:31; 110:5; 121:5; 142:5 [4]).
I have assumed that the qatal verb following the one in v. 22b
refers to the past, upon which the psalmist continues to reflect in v.
23; the two qatal verbs suggest that the intervening noun clause also
be rendered with a past verb. JPS goes on to render the succeeding
yiqtol verbs in v. 24 as past, like those in vv. 21-22a, but this implies
that the experience of affliction is over, which is not the impression
one received earlier. On the other hand, guiding with God’s counsel
is what the psalmist has been experiencing through the visit to the
sanctuary, and a purely future reference (KJV) is thus unlikely. “You
guide me with your counsel” is the most plausible understanding.
The parallel phrase is a notorious problem. MT might be construed
to mean “and toward/with honor you [will] take me” (cf., JPS), but
this requires an idiosyncratic significance for ‘a½ar. More likely it
means “and afterwards you [will] take me [to/with] honor.” The
verb “take” recurs from 49:16 [15]. If it suggested afterlife, here this
might take the form of translation rather than assumption after death
(but not resurrection or immortality of the soul), but the argument for

37
See M. Mannati, “Sur le quadruple avec toi de Ps. lxxiii 21-26,” in Vetus
Testamentum 21 (1971), pp. 59-67.
 death and afterlife in the psalms 81

referring it to rescue in this life again holds. The word kabod com-
monly refers either to God’s honor or to human earthly honor (e.g.,
84:12 [11]; 112:9) and never to a human share in God’s heavenly
glory in the manner of doxa in the New Testament. The statement
declares a confidence that God does or will restore the psalmist to
honor. As in other cases, if this verse did “represent a tentative ven-
ture to go beyond the then current beliefs,” 38 the psalm would be
broken-backed.
“Whom do I have in heaven? And with you I desire nothing on
earth” (v. 25) then declares the conviction that in this connection the
psalmist needs no other helper either in heaven or on earth. Thus
“when my body and my mind have wasted away, God is my mind’s
rock and my share for ever” (v. 26). God is regularly the people’s
rock, their means of earthly security and refuge (e.g., 18:3, 32 [2,
31]); God is also their share, their means of sustaining their earthly
destiny (16:5; 119:57; 142:6 [5]; Lam. 3:24), and this will be true for
the psalmist’s whole life. Verses 27-28 sum up the point: the psalmist
is newly convinced that the flourishing of the wicked will not last and
that nearness to God puts one in touch with protection which issues
in actions on one’s behalf and will thus give material for praise.

Psalms 89 and 90. Ps. 89:48-49 [47-48] does involve a move from
concern with the early death of the person praying to the sense in
which death makes all human life pointless. It then explicitly denies
the possibility of escaping the power of Sheol. It is with long life that
those who call on YHWH come to be satisfied; it is in this that
salvation consists (cf., 91:16; cf., 21:5 [4]). There are no grounds for
seeing anything “eschatological” or “messianic” in such a passage
(see Tate’s comments). It is “open” to such interpretations only in the
sense that words such as “salvation” were later used with a different
meaning that can be read into texts in which that meaning was not
present, neither for the individual psalm’s author, in the context of
the canonical Psalter, nor in the canonical context of the Hebrew
Bible as a whole. The just flourish to old age: this is the gift of
YHWH’s uprightness as our rock (92:13-16 [12-15]). YHWH deliv-
ers people from death so that they may walk before YHWH (that is,
with YHWH’s protection and blessing) in the land of the living

38
A.A. Anderson, Psalms (NCB, 2 vols.; London, 1972, and Grand Rapids, 1981),
p. 535.
82 john goldingay

(116:8-9). The recurrent plea “enliven me” in Pss. 119:25, 37, 40, 88,
107, 149, 154, 156, 159 (cf., vv. 50, 77, 93, 116, 144, 175) implies an
act of God that replaces affliction with proper earthly life.
Ps. 90 works in the converse way to Ps. 89. Its actual opening is
ambiguous.39 It declares that YHWH has been the people’s home or
refuge (there are two textual traditions) generation after generation:
do the words imply that this still is so or that now it is not? In vv. 2-
6, the psalm works out a contrast between the longevity of God and
the God-imposed brevity of human life (cf., 103:14-17). Verses 7-12
then move from generality (‘enosh, benei-’adam, the suffix on zemartam)
to the experience of the psalmist’s own community (“we/our” recur)
and add talk of divine wrath and human sin that did not appear in
the earlier talk of divine sovereignty and the brevity of human life.
But the “for” in v. 7 implies a link between the two sections: even vv.
2-6 turn out to be a reflection on the experience of the psalmist’s own
community. This second section thus clarifies the ambiguity in v. 1,
which turns out to have been a wry reflection on how things were for
many generations before the psalmist’s day. It thereby compares with
the opening of Ps. 44,40 though it contrasts with that psalm in going
on to acknowledge that YHWH’s ceasing to be the people’s home or
refuge is the result of our own wrongdoing. Verses 7-12 thus view the
life of the psalmist’s people in particular not only as ultimately termi-
nated by God (which is not linked with God’s wrath here or else-
where in the Hebrew Bible; even Gen. 3 talks in terms of God’s
curse, not in terms of wrath) but also as characterized by sin, wrath,
and trouble even if it lasts seventy or eighty years. Verses 13-17 then
ask for God to turn back to the people and restore their joy and
favor. Divine wrath is expressed in affliction in this life and in the
early terminating of that life, but not in the fact of death, which
eventually takes all human beings.

Conclusion

Some Psalms thus recognize that death relativizes the significance of

life, yet they also illustrate a persistent focus on enjoying a long and
39
Cf., H.-P. Muller, “Der 90. Psalm,” in ZTK 81 (1984), pp. 265-285 (see pp. 266-
267).
40
Cf., G. von Rad, Gottes Wirken in Israel (Neukirchen, 1974), pp. 268-83 (see p.
271); translated as God at Work in Israel (Nashville, 1980), pp. 210-223 (see p. 213).
 death and afterlife in the psalms 83

happy life on earth. Some later Jewish writings such as Wisdom

affirm the hope that one may continue to relate to God after death.
If texts such as Ps. 73 belong to the same period, that heightens the
significance of the fact that the hope of the Psalms, Proverbs, Job,
and Ecclesiastes is of fullness in this life (as “the response of Ben Sira
was a fairly intransigent adherence to the old perspective”).41 If Prov-
erbs, Job/Ecclesiastes, and Wisdom represent thesis, antithesis, and
synthesis (there is cosmic order in this world, this does not work,
there is cosmic order if we include an afterlife) (Day, p. 248), then the
Psalms move between thesis and antithesis; none reach synthesis. To
use the terms of a later context, their stance is that of the Sadducees
rather than that of the Pharisees. Jesus will argue that once God
enters into a relationship with someone, that person can hardly cease
to exist: God is not God of the dead but of the living (Mark 12:26-
27). This theological argument is of a piece with the Psalms’
affirmations about life with God, but it is not expressed, required, or
warranted by them.
Their hope is, for instance, that one may see Jerusalem faring well
all the days of one’s life and see one’s children’s children (128:5-6). It
is to come to one’s grave in a ripe old age, as a shock of grain comes
to the threshing floor in its season (Job 5:26). With that, one would be
satisfied; and that is where the story of Job, for its part, concludes. “A
fulfilled human life is a finite life.”42 This combination parallels the
stance of Ecclesiastes. Although there the gloomy implications of
death have much more prominence, they do not overcome the con-
viction that life is worth living and is to be enjoyed as God’s gift. It is
there that one lives with the face of YHWH (Ps. 140:14 [13]).
Ecclesiastes can envisage the possibility of the human spirit’s having
a different destiny from an animal’s but knows that there is no evi-
dence that it does (3:21; cf., Ps. 104:29).
Interpreters often have seen the affirmation of a positive afterlife
that they found in passages such as Pss. 49 and 73 as a bold advance
of faith (e.g., Anderson, p. 380). Rather, the implicit bold determina-
tion of faith of the Psalms, Proverbs, and Job, as well as Ecclesiastes,
is to affirm an understanding of life and death that makes no appeal

41
B. Vawter, “Intimations of Immortality and the Old Testament,” in Journal of
Biblical Literature 91 (1972), pp. 158-171 (see p. 162).
42
H.W. Wolff, Anthropologie des Alten Testaments (Munich, 1973), p. 169; translated
as Anthropology of the Old Testament (London and Philadelphia, 1974), p. 112.
84 john goldingay

to encouraging hopes for which there is no evidence. To be more

accurate, in the community’s history and in the lives of individuals
they believe they have evidence of YHWH’s activity that they allow
to override the evidence to the contrary. They thus determine to
continue to affirm that YHWH unfailingly protects those who “live
in the shelter of the Most High” (Ps. 91) rather than indulge in what
might be a flight of fancy without evidence at all. In subsequent
centuries, it would be suggested that believing in an afterlife can
encourage people to give up on this life and cease to insist on justice
being worked out in this life. If this is so, the Psalms subvert this
instinct and insist that the believing community take this life with
absolute seriousness.
Whereas they see human wickedness and divine wrath as the cause
of early death, they do not see these as the cause of death itself.43
Indeed, they do not attempt to reflect on why life ends in death and
why YHWH is involved with the former and not the latter. The
implicit or explicit rejection of worship and prayer that involved the
dead, and the declaration that worship was impossible in Sheol, may
have resulted from the conviction that YHWH alone should be wor-
shipped.44 But by asserting that YHWH was not involved with the
dead and that the dead were not in a position to relate to YHWH or
to anyone else, the Psalter implicitly discouraged the natural human
instinct (evidenced from our knowledge of religious practice in Israel)
to seek to maintain contact with the dead, pray for them, seek their
guidance or help, or revere a deity who was the distinctive Lord of
Death.45 Instead of being sacralized, the realm of Death is made
taboo.46 Among some contemporary peoples, life and death were
part of the experience of deity itself; Baal knew death as well as life.
YHWH is rather the living God (e.g., Ps. 42:3)—though G.
Gerleman in THAT notes that this is a rare statement in the Hebrew

43
Compare W.G. Lambert’s comments on the need to distinguish “natural”
death and violent death if we are to understand the theology of death in Mesopota-
mia (“The Theology of Death,” in Death in Mesopotamia, pp. 53-66).
44
So, e.g., B. Lang, “Life after Death in the Prophetic Promise,” pp. 144-156 (see
p. 149).
45
E. Bloch-Smith (Judahite Burial Practices, pp. 131-32) sees the curtailing of the
death cult as designed to bolster the position of the Jerusalem cultic personnel. The
Psalms do not seem to offer any specific pointers in this direction.
46
U. Kellermann, “Uberwindung des Todesgeschicks in der alttestamentlichen
Frommigkeit vor und neben dem Auferstehungsglauben,” in ZTK 73 (1976), pp. 259-
282 (see p. 260).
 death and afterlife in the psalms 85

Bible, perhaps precisely because it tends to be at home in the context

of statements about beings who experience both death and life.
G. von Rad comments that Ps. 16:10-11 became a locus classicus for
the doctrine of the resurrection, at the latest in Acts 2:25-36, and
adds that we gain little by asking what the poet originally meant by
the language of such psalms; “practically everything depends on the
meaning and sense in which they were prayed and repeated on each
occasion.”47 Two comments are appropriate. First, Acts 2 is not a
declaration of a doctrine of resurrection but a testimony to something
new that people believe has happened, for which the Psalms provide
its witnesses with language. It is this thing that they believe has hap-
pened to Jesus that adds to the empirical facts in the light of which
the followers of Jesus consider the meaning of death. Second, there is
a difference between the meaning of the text in itself and in its
context in the Psalter, and the significance it came to have for later
Jews and Christians. A.F. Kirkpatrick once noted that Pss. 16, 17, 49,
and 73 “adapt themselves so readily to Christian hope that we are
easily led to believe that it was there from the first.” 48 In the same
way they adapt themselves so readily to Ugaritic hope that we are
easily led to believe that this was still there. But in both cases it was
not.

47
Theologie, p. 418; English: p. 405. Cf., the argument of J.F.A. Sawyer, “Hebrew
Words for the Resurrection of the Dead,” in Vetus Testamentum 22 (1972), pp. 218-
234.
48
The Book of Psalms (Cambridge, 1902), p. xcv.
 3. MEMORY AS IMMORTALITY:
COUNTERING THE DREADED “DEATH AFTER DEATH”
IN ANCIENT ISRAELITE SOCIETY

Brian B. Schmidt
University of Michigan

The topics of death and afterlife have long held central place in
modern reconstructions of the religious traditions of ancient Mediter-
ranean West Asian cultures or the Levant. Those of Iron age Israel
(1200-600 B.C.E.) are no exception. Several factors have undoubt-
edly influenced this state of affairs, but one that clearly stands out
above the others is the western or, more specifically, Judeo-Christian
preoccupation with humanity’s physical fate beyond death. In fact,
early modern scholarly interest in Levantine cultural traditions had
as its major impetus the elucidation of the Christian Old Testament/
Jewish Tanakh. Thus, the resultant descriptions of early Israelite be-
liefs about death and afterlife would on occasion closely mirror later
Christian and Jewish conceptions as preserved in the New Testament
and in Jewish writings of the Second Temple period (cf., e.g., the so-
called Old Testament Apocrypha).
When it came to the topics of death and afterlife, however, the
majority of scholars also detected remnants of an aboriginal Israelite
death or ancestor cult in the biblical texts. These data were viewed as
reminiscent of more ancient “primitive” religious thought and prac-
tice among the early Israelites. Yet this judgment comprises another
mode of comparison that, upon closer scrutiny, is likewise unwar-
ranted by the data, and it finds its precedent in many early modern,
western accounts of distant cultures. In other words, where the evi-
dence from another culture resisted the encroachment of a distinctly
Judeo-Christian re-interpretation, that cultural tradition could be—
and often was—categorized as uncultivated either in terms of its
inferior intellectual merit or its inadequacy with regard to religious
virtue. Thus, ancient and foreign cultures that embraced alien reli-
gious beliefs or observed exotic religious practices could be character-
ized as deficient in evolutionary development and therefore “primi-
tive.” In the case of ancient Mediterranean West Asian cultures,
death cult and ancestor cults became the sine qua non of “primitive”
religion, and Israel’s earliest religious traditions were no exception.
88 brian b. schmidt

Having said all this, there remains something of value in those

earlier studies, for they recognized in the world of pre-exilic Israel a
very different world from that of later Judaism and Christianity as
regards beliefs and rituals associated with death and the afterlife.
This remains so regardless of their tendency to articulate wrongly
such differences along lines of primitive vs. advanced religion.
More recently, disparity in scholarly opinion has since focused on
more minor questions concerning the time at which such transforma-
tions in afterlife beliefs took place and whether they took place rela-
tively early or late in Israelite/Jewish religious history. Also occupy-
ing researchers has been the search to identify the catalysts for such
transformations and whether they were internal or foreign influences
and, if the latter, whether they were from the local region (i.e.,
Canaanite) or from further afield (e.g., Egyptian, Mesopotamian, or
Persian). In what follows, the abode of the dead, the inhabitants of
the netherworld, the observance of mortuary cults beyond burial,
and the later transformations in beliefs and rituals pertaining to the
dead will be discussed. The aim will be to articulate what constituted
a fulfilling life and an “acceptable” death in ancient Mediterranean
West Asia and in Iron age Israel.

The Abode of the Dead

In the Hebrew Bible, various terms like še’ol, “sheol,” mawet, “death,”
æeres, “earth,” ša½at, “pit,” bor, “pit,” and ‘abaddon, “place of destruc-
tion,” could be employed to refer to the netherworld or abode of the
dead. Some of these terms are further qualified by the Hebrew ta½tit
or its various forms signifying “the lowest parts.” Sheol is the term
used most often to designate the netherly regions, although it has few,
if any, cognates in the ancient Near East, making its etymological
origins all the more obscure (but, cf., the oblique reference in an
Aramaic papyri, Cowley #71). Of course, even if we were able to
uncover its full etymological history, it would not necessarily clarify
the significance or function of Sheol. Nonetheless, it apparently does
have its semantic cognates and conceptual parallels that are well
attested in the comparative evidence.
Like its Near Eastern counterparts, the netherworld in ancient
Israelite tradition is typically portrayed as a place to which one must
descend. It is dark, dusty, and a place of silence. It can be connected
 memory as immortality 89

with the waters of chaos over which one typically traveled to enter
the netherworld. Sheol in particular is described as possessing bars,
gates, ropes and snares, all of which suggest the unlikelihood of ever
completely escaping from the netherworld—at least not in the full
capacity one possessed before death—and this approximates what we
know to be the case in Mesopotamian tradition, wherein the
netherworld is depicted as the “land of no return.” Although the
ghost of a person could apparently leave the netherworld when dis-
traught over being neglected or when assisted by the chthonic gods in
necromantic ritual, one could never return to the land of the living in
one’s former full capacity.
The netherworld could also overlap in its boundaries with the
“grave” (qeber) in the Hebrew Bible and in the broader ancient Near
Eastern traditions. This suggests that the grave was conceived of as
having been incorporated into the larger realm of the netherworld or
Sheol. Indeed, one could enter Sheol from one’s grave, indicating
that it was thought to function as an entry way to the netherworld.
Lastly, in biblical poetic contexts, the netherworld takes on various
elements of personification. Sheol has an insatiable appetite and
swallows up everything. It can grasp one with such relentless force
that it never releases its victim. These elements highlight something
of the permanence and pervasiveness of death in early Israelite soci-
ety.

The Inhabitants of the Netherworld

Those who inhabit the netherworld in ancient Israel were most often
referred to by the terms metim, “dead ones,” and repha’im or Rephaim
(cf., esp., Ps. 88:11, Is. 26:14). The term repha’im (or consonantal rp’m)
is used in two sixth century B.C.E. Phoenician texts to denote simply
the dead (KAI 13:7-8 and 14:8-9). The ghosts of the dead are repeat-
edly designated as “the knowing ones” or yiddeÆonim and “the ones
who return” or æobot in rather late biblical texts, wherein the practice
of necromancy is also taken up for the first time as an adaptation
from Mesopotamia. On one occasion, Is. 19:3, they are referred to as
the æittim, or “ghosts,” which is in all likelihood the Hebrew equiva-
lent of Akkadian e_emmu (but note the doubled t). It is often claimed
that the dead could be referred to as “gods” or æelohim, based on a
questionable translation of the Deuteronomistic text, 1 Sam. 28:13-
90 brian b. schmidt

14, and the dubious assumption that ghosts and gods were equated in
Mesopotamian and in Israelite tradition. In Akkadian texts, the term
ilu, “god,” and the term e_emmu, “ghost,” do appear in close proximity
on more than one occasion, but the exact nature of their connection
can only be explained on the basis of context. In some cases, it
appears that two classes of otherworldly beings are in view, the family
or personal gods on the one hand (i.e., ilu or ilanu) and, on the other,
the ghosts of deceased relatives (e_emmu). In a few cases, their exact
connection remains elusive, but what is clear is that their simple
equation, god = ghost, cannot be assumed as more likely explana-
tions do present themselves (see below for other instances of the
coupling of chthonic gods and the dead).
The terms metim, “dead,” and æelohim, “gods,” likewise occur in
close proximity in one passage, Is. 8:19, which in turn has led to their
erroneous equation. Again based on similar occurrences in compara-
tive materials the two terms more likely refer to two distinct groups of
otherworldly beings, as attested in Mesopotamian necromantic tradi-
tions; the chthonic gods summoned to assist in the retrieval of a
conjured ghost and the ghost itself. With these considerations in
mind, an alternative translation of 1 Sam. 28:13-14, a sixth century
B.C.E. composition concerned with necromancy, might be rendered
as follows:
...The king said to her (the witch of Endor), ‘be not afraid, what do you
see?’ And the woman said to Saul, ‘I see chthonic gods [‘elohim] coming
up from the earth.’ Then he said to her, ‘(Now) what have you per-
ceived?’ And she said to him, ‘An old/upright man coming up from the
earth and he is wrapped in a robe (= Samuel).
In the first half of king Saul’s inquiry, the woman makes reference to
the appearance of the gods from the netherworld that were typically
invoked in Mesopotamian necromantic rituals for their ability to as-
sist in the retrieval of a particular ghost. In the second part of the
inquiry, the woman refers to the ghost of Samuel that the gods have
brought up with them to the land of the living for her to consult. In
other words, the “gods” here are not to be equated with Samuel’s
ghost as a reference to its divine status (= the deified dead). The text,
rather, preserves an echo of a ritual tradition involving two groups of
otherworldly beings that typically participated in necromancy, the
chthonic gods and the conjured ghosts whom the gods assisted in
retrieving from the netherworld.
Now the term repha’im or Rephaim actually appears in one of two
 memory as immortality 91

contexts in the Hebrew Bible: in the narrative texts of the Pentateuch

and Deuteronomistic History as giants and as representative of the
autochthonous populations of Palestine/Israel and in the prophetic,
poetic, and sapiental traditions as the weakened dead. Their similar-
ity in form has led to the speculation that there is some organic
connection between the two uses of Rephaim. Like their Ugaritic
counterparts, the rp’im qdmym, “the ancient Rapi’uma,” the biblical
Rephaim of the netherworld are powerless (in biblical tradition they
have been democratized to include the commoner as well as the
elite). In the royal coronation litany from Ugarit, KTU 1.161, the
rp’im qdmym function in the netherworld as feeble ghosts who receive
the newly arrived ghost of the recently deceased king in order to
accompany him to his new netherly abode. They do not demonstrate
any supernatural powers otherwise (and see further below).
In the non-narrative contexts of the Hebrew Bible, the term
Rephaim designates the dead in their post-mortem, weakened state.
Nowhere are they identified as superhuman, warrior heroes of hoary
antiquity—living or dead—as is so often assumed. Like their Ugaritic
counterparts, the Rapi’uma, the ghosts of the Israelite departed or
Rephaim who dwell in the netherworld or Sheol, are devoid of any of
the powers characteristic of the gods and are characteristically weak
and frail. Is. 14:9, perhaps the earliest biblical reference to the
Rephaim as ghosts, states that the fallen king of Babylon will become,
at death, weak like all the ghosts of former kings who passed away
previously (cf., v. 4). The writer’s polemic in vv. 4-21 exposes the loss
at death of any powers—supernatural or otherwise—to which a liv-
ing king might have formerly aspired. Thus, death becomes the great
equalizer. Not only can this tyrant no longer pose a threat to the
living, but he is weakened just like all the other worldly kings who,
having died, experienced the same ignominious physical afterlife.
The Rephaim of the narratives, however, do take on mythic and
heroic dimensions as the most ancient living inhabitants of Palestine
and, in this respect, find their analogues in the rp’um traditions at
Ugarit (which are to be kept distinct from the Ugaritic rpim qdmym). In
KTU 1.161, the Ugaritic rp’um or Rapi’uma (unqualified by the term
qdmym) represent a living warrior and nobility elite at Ugarit who
adopted the Rapi’uma designation as a means of identifying them-
selves with the mythic or heroic traditions. Such a heroic tradition is
not only presumed in the biblical historical narratives, but polemiciz-
ed against via the designation yelide harapah, “sons of the Weak One.”
92 brian b. schmidt

In the final analysis, any supposed connection between the two

biblical Rephaim traditions, the heroic traditions of the narratives
and the post mortem traditions of the poetic, prophetic, and wisdom
texts remains enigmatic. The point to be underscored is that nowhere
are the Rephaim attributed supernatural post mortem powers in the
Hebrew Bible. Moreover, such powers are not disparaged. The bib-
lical polemic against the Rephaim traditions is restricted to their
former mythic, heroic stature as living inhabitants of the land of
Canaan wherein they have been re-interpreted as “the sons of the
Weak One.”

The Mortuary Cults of Early Mediterranean West Asia

The discoveries from Ugarit well illustrate how the scholarly bias
briefly described in the introductory section might manifest itself. In
the early stages of research on the artifacts and texts discovered at the
ancient Late Bronze age city of Ugarit, scholars like Mitchell Dahood
of the Pontifical Biblical Institute in Rome interpreted many of the
rituals preserved in the epigraphic archives as evidence for a belief in
a blessed physical life after death. The resultant description of Ugaritic
beliefs about death and the afterlife—like their early Israelite ana-
logues—resembled later Christian and Jewish ideas.
Claude Schaeffer, the first excavator of Ugarit, identified what he
thought to be cemeteries within the city, complete with various tubes,
jars, open gutters, and feeding windows either in or near the tombs.
These he understood as reflective of an elaborate cult designed for
the worship of the departed ancestors, a death cult or an ancestor
cult if you will. To be sure, several tombs have been found at Ugarit,
but they merely highlight the Ugaritian concern for proper funerary
ritual and burial. In other instances, however, what Schaeffer identi-
fied as a cemetery has been, following further analysis, identified as a
complex of domestic dwellings and the associated tubes and conduits
as channels for carrying water in and out of those buildings.
Schaeffer’s tomb windows were apparently used only at the time of
inhumation and never reused on a subsequent ritual occasion. Some
were blocked off and others opened only to an area outside the tomb,
but in neither case did the window open to the surface, allowing for
ritual activity by the living subsequent to burial.
Now death and ancestor cults as typically defined by early
 memory as immortality 93

moderns—and their intellectual descendants—presupposed a morbid

fear of and superstition regarding ghosts. Hence the so-called primi-
tive nature of these cults and their respective cultures. This fear was
given expression in regular acts of worship by the living directed
toward the dead who, it was believed, possessed powers equal to
those of the gods. As such powers often led to the deification of the
dead, the associated rituals served either to appease the divine-like
malevolence of the dead or to access their supernatural benevolence.
In fact, many early modern intellectuals viewed this fear and its
attendant cult as providing the impetus underlying the origin of reli-
gious thought among all early humanoids. In other words, the fear of
the recently departed led to their reverence which presupposed the
new acquisition of superior powers on the part of ghosts, ergo the
eventual birth of deities and demons from dead humans. This is
undoubtedly a variation on the ancient theory of euhemerism (for an
early modern application of this theory as applied to ancient Rome,
cf., the 1864 work by Numa Denis Fustel de Coulange, La cité antique).
Other factors also contributed to the tendency to translate the
cultural artifacts of Ugarit in this manner. The discoveries were char-
acterized from the outset as reflective of the larger orbit of second
millennium B.C.E. “Canaanite” culture known first and foremost
from the Christian Old Testament/Jewish Tanakh. Keeping in mind
that Scripture depicts the Canaanites as the nemesis, if not the arch
enemy, of the early Israelites, one had at one’s disposal all the com-
ponents necessary to malign the ancient Canaanite culture before it
ever had the chance to be understood adequately on is own merit.
Unfortunately, the same can be said with regard to the interpretation
of Phoenician artifacts discovered over the past few centuries. These
were long thought to be representative of the same recalcitrant
Canaanite culture. With the discovery of the ancient city of Ugarit,
long held assumptions about the inferior character of Canaanite cul-
ture only found further confirmation. With these considerations in
mind, one can readily understand how the material cultural remains
from Ugarit as well as its epigraphic archives could be subjected to
such an interpretive matrix.
If a morbid fear of the dead did not provide the impetus underly-
ing the beliefs pertaining to death and the afterlife for the people of
Ugarit, what then did they believe with regard to such notions? The
textual corpus suggests that rather than adhering to some type of
94 brian b. schmidt

“proto” Judeo-Christian belief in a blessed afterlife or embracing

some uncivilized, primitive worship and deification of the dead, the
Ugaritians developed quite a sophisticated means of coping with
death’s reality. It comprised the rather ingenious notion of commemo-
ration of the dead (or what anthropologists such as the British
Africanist, Meyers Fortes refer to as geneonymy). In addition to sustain-
ing the memory of the deceased in the minds of the living—those of
both family and community—, these rituals or commemoration cults,
when performed publicly and on family property, could legitimate
the living’s claims to birthright and land ownership.
The public recitation of the names of the deceased confirms that at
the heart of the observance of mortuary rites for at least the elites of
Ugarit lie the perpetuation of the deceased’s memory and the main-
tenance of the dead’s genealogical ties with living family members.
This is well illustrated by a tablet containing a royal king list from
Ugarit (RS 24.257) wherein the names of several of the Ugaritic kings
are listed, each successively associated with the dynastic personal god
known by all and so designated by the generic term “god” (Ugaritic,
æil ). Thus, the phrase “the god of (king) So-and-so” is repeated sev-
eral times in the text with a different accompanying royal name, in
each instance suggesting that the deceased kings’ names were recited
in succession together with the name of the dynastic personal god as
an act of commemoration. Such a ritual was perhaps designed to
sustain the divine legitimization of the current dynasty.
In the third millennium B.C.E. archives from the ancient city of
Ebla in northwest Syria, a close parallel to the king list discovered at
Ugarit has been preserved and published by the Italian excavation’s
epigrapher Alphonso Archi. What is clear from the Eblaite king list is
that the name of each deceased king is preceded by the Sumerian
sign designating a god, in this case, the dingir sign, the semantic
equivalent of Ugaritic æil (and Akkadian ilu), and the corresponding
phrase dingir + royal name is to be translated as “the god of (king)
So-and-so” as was proposed for the similar phrase æil + royal name
attested in the Ugaritic king list. The fact that the Sumerian sign is
written in its own case makes this the most likely interpretation of its
function. When the dingir sign accompanies one of the deities later in
the text, it is not written in its own case and thereby designates the
deified status of the following named entity, e.g., di-da-kul. The fact
that the king list from Ebla is much older than that from Ugarit
suggests that commemoration as a means of legitimization was a long
 memory as immortality 95

standing tradition in the region of ancient Mediterranean West Asia.

Finally, it might be the case in both instances, Ugarit and Ebla, that
the ritual presupposed the presence of votive statues of the dead kings
placed in a temple to which commemorative offerings were made. If
contemporary practice in ancient Mesopotamia is at all relevant
here, these statues probably stood at a lower elevation facing another
statue depicting the seated dynastic personal god to whom exclusive
worship could be directed.
Another ritual text from the ancient city of Ugarit should be men-
tioned here. It comprises a royal coronation litany with an accompa-
nying funerary liturgy (RS 34.126). The occasion for its recitation
was the ultimate demise of the king and the coronation of his succes-
sor. Apparently, it was composed on the occasion of king
Ammurapi’s coronation as suggested by his being mentioned in the
closing line of the text. This apparently took place immediately fol-
lowing the death of his father and former king of Ugarit, Niqmaddu.
The living warrior-nobility and dignitaries are called to assemble on
this momentous day to witness the coronation of the new king as
genealogical heir to the recently deceased monarch. As mentioned
previously, these living elites are collectively referred to by the rubric
“the Rapi’uma of the land” (rpi’ æar×).
In this text, ghosts of the former kings are indeed mentioned, but
they are merely summoned to assemble down below in the
netherworld to await the arrival of the recently deceased and his
throne in order to accompany him to his newly appointed place in
the world below. The dead warrior nobility are referred to by the
collective “the ancient Rapi’uma” (rp’im qdmym); they play no further
role in the ceremony other than to assist the ghosts of dead kings in
their function as escorts. They lack the ability to exercise any benefi-
cent powers on behalf of the living. In sum, ghosts of the dead at
Ugarit appear in the typical portraiture of Canaanite ghosts: weak,
frail apparitions lacking any supernatural powers.
Now for the commoner at Ugarit, such a physical fate probably
posed less of an enigma than it did for royalty and the privileged, for,
following death, the latter stood to lose all station they had achieved,
inherited, or obtained in this life. This might partially explain the
Ugaritic royalty’s preoccupation with what might well have consti-
tuted elaborate commemoration cults. For the elites, such cults
served as a counterbalance to any loss, whether of a physical, social,
or material nature, that was thought to be suffered at death. In the
96 brian b. schmidt

end, however, commemoration served both commoner and elite

alike by offering the possibility of averting the relegation of one’s
deeds or personhood to eternal anonymity or the dreaded “death after
death.”

Transformations in Late Israelite Tradition

In the period following the Babylonian exile of 586/587 B.C.E.,

significant transformations took place vis-a-vis Israelite/Jewish beliefs
about death and the afterlife. Notions about bodily resurrection, as-
cension, and immortality apparently take root in Jewish traditions at
this time. This has been explained as the result of a combination of
factors: foreign religious influence—Persian, Greek or otherwise—,
social and individual crises, and the inadequacy of traditional con-
structs of theodicy.
The resurrection of the body becomes the dominant expression of
a blessed afterlife in Second Temple Judaism, and in the Hebrew
Bible there is at least one very late text that scholars generally recog-
nize as indicative of this concept, Dan. 12:2, which was composed
following the persecution of the Jews in 165 B.C.E. Other passages
have been cited as examples of the existence of this belief in earlier
Israelite tradition, e.g., Ezek. 37, Is. 26:19, and Is. 53. Opinion is
divided however as to whether these passages presume a belief in
bodily resurrection or whether they employ “dying and rising god” or
fecundity imagery to metaphorically refer to the historical restoration
of the nation. The most likely scenario is one in which these passages
informed developments that eventuated in the belief given clear ex-
pression later in Dan. 12. Furthermore, they might very well have
derived their impetus from the dying and rising god imagery con-
tained in a much earlier text, Hos. 13-14, which in turn might indi-
cate at least partial dependence upon older Canaanite imagery.
These factors coupled with the possible influence of Persian religion
and, in particular, the Zoroastrian belief in bodily resurrection during
the post-exilic period, might have culminated in the later Jewish
belief in bodily resurrection such as that given expression in Dan. 12
and other Jewish apocalyptic sources.
In this same time period from roughly the sixth century B.C.E.
onwards, other significant transformations took place in Israelite reli-
gion with regard to beliefs about death and afterlife. It is at this time
 memory as immortality 97

that notions about ascension and immortality also find their way into
Jewish traditions and texts. Passages like Gen. 5:24—a late priestly
text—and 2 Kgs 2:1-12—a Deuteronomistic production—preserve
traditions concerning bodily ascension to heaven without passing
through death as in the cases of such heroic figures as Enoch and
Elijah. Enoch shows a number of amazing parallels with figures
known from Mesopotamian sources, Enmeduranki, an anti-diluvian
king, and Utnapishtim, a flood hero, who were either directly admit-
ted into the presence of the gods or translated bodily into heaven. In
sum, while notions of immortality were possibly afloat in various
periods of Israelite religious history, only with the passage of time
were certain forms singled out for fuller elaboration and develop-
ment.
Second Temple Jewish wisdom literature preserves elements of the
immortality of the soul as a reward for the righteous. Works like 4
Maccabees, Jubilees, and 1 Enoch all point in this direction. The
wisdom of Solomon, a work composed in approximately 100 B.C.E.,
repeatedly addresses the topic of immortality (1:15, 3;4, 4:1, 8;17,
15;3) while never explicitly taking up the topic of resurrection, and
some have seen a strong influence from Greek Platonic philosophy
here. The immortality of the soul has also been identified in two post-
exilic wisdom Psalms, 49 and 73. The case is certainly stronger for
Ps. 49 as the wording in the relevant verse of Ps. 73 (v. 24) is more
problematic. Ps. 49:16 (JPS) states, “But God will redeem my life
from the clutches of Sheol, for He will take me.” Now this poses a
direct contrast to vv. 8-10, where it is claimed that no man can
redeem himself so as to live forever and never see the grave. If one
were to apply a rigid standard of consistency in the use of contrast
here, then v. 16 would make better sense if God is viewed here as
being attributed that power that no man can exercise on his own
behalf: the power to bestow immortal life.

Conclusion

All indications are that during the Iron age the dead of ancient
Mediterranean West Asia and in ancient Israel were perceived as
weak and frail and their material persistence beyond this life was
characterized at best by a shadowy and silent existence and at worst
by neglect on the part of the living. In Mesopotamian tradition, such
98 brian b. schmidt

neglect might result in the ghost’s maleficence, requiring exorcistic

rituals to counter such behavior. Similarly, the ghosts of those who
died an untimely or violent death might require ritual forms of con-
trol on the part of the living. Nonetheless, in Mediterranean West
Asian sources such ghostly malevolence remains unattested. To be
sure, there are instances wherein demons of various and sundry sorts
must be averted by ritual means, but incantations and the like that
were directed specifically toward hostile ghosts of the human dead
are nowhere to be found in the archaeological, epigraphic or literary
sources recovered from Mediterranean West Asia (cf., the Arslan
Tash incantations and some recently discovered Ugaritic incanta-
tions, both of which lack any mention of ghosts).
To be sure, there apparently existed the belief that in the case of
neglect, one might expect the angry reprisal of the deceased’s ghost,
but this hardly necessitated or presumed that the living worship or
venerate the dead. Rather, it demanded persistence in caring and
feeding of the otherwise feeble dead, and, on the rare occasion that
negligence had taken place, rites to ward off or appease the ghost,
i.e., exorcistic rituals, might be enacted (unfortunately, the primary
data on this score for ancient Israel is all but entirely lacking). Fur-
thermore, it is only in the latter stages of pre-exilic Israelite religion
that the practice of necromancy was introduced, which in turn ex-
plains its occasional mention in late texts of the holiness code, wis-
dom traditions, and later prophetic, and Deuteronomistic additions.
The prohibition against necromancy in such texts as Deut. 18:11; 1
Sam. 28:3-25; 2 Kgs. 21:6, 23:24; Is. 8:19, 19:3, and 29:4 finds it
impetus in the adaptation of Mesopotamian necromancy to late Iron
age pluralistic Israelite religion. It was artificially or rhetorically at-
tributed a “Canaanite” origin, a polemical strategy aimed at dispar-
aging competing Israelite religious practices while avoiding the con-
sternation of Israel’s Mesopotamian overloads.
A handful of other texts have been identified in past treatments as
pertaining to death and ancestor cult practices per se (not to be con-
fused with those having to do with necromancy). But in actuality,
these address the observance of mourning rites and so contribute
nothing to the question of whether or not the ancient Israelites ob-
served death and ancestor rites. For example, Deut. 14:1 and 26:14
refer not to death or ancestor cult practices but to mourning rites of
tonsure and gashing and the prohibition against using the tithe as a
gift of consolation for those in mourning. Similarly, Amos 6:7 and
 memory as immortality 99

Jer. 16:5 mention the marzea½, which concerns an association organ-

ized for the purpose of advancing economic transactions among the
upper echelons of society, and an association which in the excep-
tional instance might also seek to acknowledge the death of one of its
members by observing a funeral. On occasion, some of its attendants
might indulge themselves to the point of inebriation during such a
funeral. Contrary to the scholarly consensus, the marzea½ has nothing
to do with death or ancestor cults and only an occasional connection
with funerary concerns.
Indeed, the evidence suggests that what occupied a more central
place in the thought and action of ancient Israelites as they contem-
plated their prospects beyond the grave was the concern to perpetu-
ate the memory of the deceased in the minds of the living. Prior to
the exile, the ancient Israelites, like many of their ancient Near East-
ern neighbors, placed primary, if not sole, emphasis on the perpetu-
ation of the memory of the family dead and on making the best of life
on this side of the grave. Both commoner and elite went to some
length to insure that the family name epitomized by the multi-
generational graves containing the bones of family dead and located
on family land would never be neglected, let alone forgotten. By
regularly performing various communal and public rituals, the names
and memories of deceased kin were preserved from oblivion, thereby
avoiding the dreaded “death after death.” The associated words and
deeds comprised what has been described by anthropologists as the
commemoration of the dead. Worship, veneration, or morbid fear of
the dead had no necessary part to play in this complex of rites as so
long assumed. The idea that the ancient Israelites observed a
longstanding death or ancestor cult as conventionally understood (to
include the worship or veneration of the dead) simply has no basis in
reality. It was founded upon outmoded anthropological assumptions,
cultural biases, and questionable or forced interpretation of texts.
What the ancient Israelite did fear was the dreaded “death after
death,” the possibility that the memory of his name and the recollec-
tion of his deeds accomplished while living might be forever forgotten
by his descendants, his community, or, in the case of the royalty,
even his nation.
This coupled with an emphasis on making the best of life on this
side of the grave—a long and healthy life span, sufficient material
resources, many children, relatives and friends, minimal pain and
suffering—presented one with the prospect of obtaining a significant
measure of fulfillment in this life.
100 brian b. schmidt

While it may be difficult, if not impossible, for us as moderns to

imagine, let alone embrace, a world where physical continuance per-
sists beyond the grave merely as a shadow of our former existence,
the inhabitants of ancient Israel, Ugarit, and Ebla could not only
conceive of, but openly embrace, the belief in such a physical exist-
ence. A shadowy, feeble, physical existence in the netherworld was a
given. It was acceptable because it did not constitute the central focus
of their efforts in constructing a worthwhile life beyond death. The
energy and resources of the living, in anticipation of death, were
concentrated instead on establishing, even institutionalizing, one’s
immortality by the preservation of one’s deeds, position, or
personhood in the mind of those one left behind long after one’s
departure from this world. This form of immortality—supported by
institutional infrastructures—political, legal, and religious—served to
counter the dreaded “death after death” in ancient Mediterranean
West Asian societies.

Suggested Bibliography

Barth, Carl, Die Errettung vom Tode in den individuellen Klage- und Dankliedern des
Alten Testaments (Zollikon, 1947).
Day, John, “The Development of Belief in Life after Death in Ancient
Israel,” in Barton, J., and D.J. Reimer, eds., After the Exile: Essays in
Honour of Rex Maso (Macon,1996), pp. 231-257.
Pardee, D., “Marzihu, Kispu, and the Ugaritic Funerary Cult: A Minimalist
View,” in Wyatt, N., W.G.E. Watson, and J.B. Loyd, eds., Ugarit, Reli-
gion and Culture: Proceedings of the International Colloquium on Ugarit, Religion
and Culture. Edinburgh, July, 1994. Essays Presented in Honour of John C.L.
Gibson (Muenster, 1996), pp. 273-287.
Schmidt, B.B., Israel’s Beneficent Dead: Ancestor Cult and Necromancy in Ancient
Israelite Religion and Tradition. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 11.
Herausgegeben von B. Janowski and H. Spieckermann (Tübingen,
1994, and [revised] Winona Lake, 1996).
 4. DEATH AND AFTERLIFE
IN THE WISDOM LITERATURE

Roland E. Murphy
Whitefriars Hall

The parameters of this essay are set by the three traditional wisdom
books of the Hebrew Bible: Proverbs, Job, and Ecclesiastes. But to
capture the thrust of biblical wisdom, Sirach and the Wisdom of
Solomon, the “deuterocanonicals “ or “apocrypha,” must also be
included; they are an important complement to the three books of
the Tanach. Wisdom influence on other parts of the Bible (e.g., Pss.
37, 49) will not be treated here.
In view of varying concepts concerning death and afterlife,1 the
presuppositions of this essay need to be stated. Death is understood
as physical death unless indicated otherwise (a metaphorical usage,
yielding a qualitative meaning, or “living death,” as illustrated by the
use of sheol in Ps. 30:4, is also possible). Afterlife is understood to be
what is beyond death, i.e., it is “afterdeath.” What reality awaited the
dead Israelite? The answer: “non-life.” This “non-life” is described as a
condition or a place that is generally called sheol and usually local-
ized in the belly of the earth. Death and sheol are frequently paired
together in the Bible. Both have a an extended meaning, beyond
mere place; they are also personified as dynamic powers that pursue
human beings in this life.2 Thus the psalmist can pray to be delivered
from the power (yad, or “hand”) of sheol (Ps. 89:49, with “death” in
parallelism), or give thanks because of having been brought up from
sheol (Ps. 30:4, with “those who go down to the pit” in parallelism).
This particular metaphorical usage, which will not concern us here, is
significant for the meaning of sheol as adversity, suffering, and so
forth. It is an anticipation of afterdeath, of the “non-life” that is to
come.
One cannot speak of “afterlife” without agreeing on the usage of
the term, “life.” In the wisdom literature, life means significantly

1
Cf., T. Lewis in Anchor Bible Dictionary, vol. II, pp. 100-105.
2
Cf., Chr. Barth, Die Errettung vom Tode in den individuellen Klage und Danklieder des
Alten Testaments (Zolliko, 1947).
102 roland e. murphy

more than biological life, although “length of days” (Prov. 3:2), as

opposed to a premature death, is considered one of the blessings that
result from wise conduct. A true measure of life is its quality: dignity,
prestige, reputation, prosperity, a large family. This ambience consti-
tutes real life for a person; life is a network of proper relationships to
God, to other human beings, and to nature. These are the elements
that make life worth living; they are the “life” that is the kerygma of
Wisdom herself (Prov. 8:35).3 Although the sages do not give a defi-
nition of life, they employ significant symbols (tree of life, fountain of
life, etc.) that convey its positive value.
By contrast, these characteristics are not to be found in descrip-
tions of sheol. Hence it cannot be truly called Afterlife; basically it is
“non-life.” Correspondingly, there will be symbols for this type of
“existence,” such as watery darkness or the absence of a loving con-
tact with the Lord. This condition may be found with descriptions of
an “I” who “exists” in sheol, and who even speaks of fellow travelers
(Job 3:13-19) or “shades” (repa’im, Prov. 2:18; 9:18). But such passages
do not really designate survivors in an afterlife. They are imaginative,
mythological ways of speaking of the “afterdeath” that was the lot of
every Israelite and every one else. They are bleak and murky portray-
als of a reality the Israelites were completely ignorant of. No one ever
returned (not even Samuel!) to tell them about it.
Another important fact is that there is no speculation about “who”
or “what” is in sheol. The Hebrew conception of the make-up of a
human being was very simple and direct: a person is breathed-upon
matter (Gen. 2:7; Eccl. 12:7). The breath of life is taken back by God
and the matter corrupts in the grave (Gen. 3:19). Some would say
this amounts to total extinction (see the discussion of Eccl. 12:7 be-
low). Be that as it may, such a speculative conclusion the Israelites
did not make, even if it seems “logical” to the western mind. The
most that could be said is that someone is in sheol (equivalently,
David speaking of his dead son, 2 Sam. 12:23). It is the final curtain
on existence. Some scholars would insist that afterlife is affirmed by
the descriptions of sheol where shades “exist.” But the term “exist-
ence” cannot be applied meaningfully to this “afterlife.” The insist-
ence with which some scholars affirm true existence in sheol seems to
derive from a literal understanding of the biblical descriptions of

3
R.E. Murphy, “The Kerygma of the Book of Proverbs,” in Interpretation 20, 1966,
pp. 3-14.
 death and afterlife in the wisdom literature 103

sheol, or in some cases from a rigid view of biblical inspiration/

inerrancy that will not tolerate in the Bible an expression of a total
blackout of existence.4
Not only is sheol portrayed as a place/condition of unsubstantial,
shadowy, existence, but its boundaries are not clearly defined. Does it
begin with interment in a grave? This may be suggested by the “pit”
into which one is doomed to go down (Prov. 1:12). And we have
noted above the metaphorical usage (a dynamic power in pursuit of
human beings). This preliminary discussion of the paradoxical nature
of death/sheol is necessary for a meaningful presentation of “after-
life” in the wisdom literature.

Proverbs.5 A negative view of the afterlife is envisioned; death (with

which sheol is often the parallel expression) is the end for a human
being. The terms are used to designate the particular lot of the foolish
and wicked (Prov. 7:27; 14:12 = 16:25). Such are the ways of the
“strange” woman or any false paths against which the sage warns. In
particular, marital infidelity can lead to death/sheol (5:5), and to
vengeance on the part of the aggrieved husband (6:32-35). Death has
its “snares” (13:14; 14:27; in both cases, the “fountain of life” is the
antithesis). The threat of death carries weight insofar as it can be
premature (Eccl. 7:17), or simply a calamity because it deprives one
of a positive good, or because it separates one from prized possessions
(Eccl. 5:15; Sir. 11:18-19; Ps. 49:17-20), and especially from that
most highly prized, life itself. Its meaning is filled out by its opposite,
“life,” and the two metaphors frequently associated with it: “tree of
life” (e.g., Prov. 3:18; 11:30; 13:12) and “fountain of life” (10:11;

4
See H.C. Brichto, “Kin, Cult, Land and Afterlife—A Biblical Complex,” Hebrew
Union College Annual 44, 1973, pp. 1-54. He discusses whether “death represented a
dissolution of being or a transition to a different kind of existence” (p. 3; cf., p. 53).
He argues for a continuation of life after death, and takes issue with B. Vawter,
“Intimations of Immortality in the Old Testament,” Journal of Biblical Literature 91,
1972, pp. 158-171; but Vawter is correct in maintaining that life in the Old Testa-
ment is to be understood as “meaningful existence.” However, scholars of the stature
of J. Barr speak of “a sort of continuance” in Sheol; cf., The Garden of Eden and the Hope
of Immortality (Minneapolis, 1993), p. 30. I do not think that the biblical language
should be interpreted to mean “continuance.” Neither does it authorize the conclu-
sion of extinction; at least no biblical writer concludes to extinction. See n. 5 below.
5
Cf., V. Cottini, La vita futura nel libro dei Proverbi (Jerusalem, l984). He provides a
fairly complete history of exegesis of Prov. 12:28; 14:32; 15:24; 23:17-18; 24:19-20.
While his emphasis is upon the hermeneutical presuppositions at work, his own
stance seems to affirm a positive “future life” in these texts (cf., p. 388).
104 roland e. murphy

16:22). Concretely, life means enjoying a long life, with prestige and
dignity, a large family and great possessions (see the description in
Job 29:2-20). These are the signs of divine blessing. Hence death and
sheol derive their sting from the deprivation of the positive values of
life in the here and now. The striking spatial metaphor in Prov. 15:24
(the path of life leads upward in order to avoid sheol below) indicates
the superiority of life as opposed to death; it does not imply a change
in the lot of the individual.
Equally important are certain statements about death that suggest
a surplus of meaning. For example, Prov. 10:2 (see also 11:4) an-
nounces that “righteousness delivers from death.” This is opposed to
the failure of ill-gotten treasures to yield profit. While the literal his-
torical sense urges honesty as a means of avoiding some unnamed
disaster (premature death?), was the saying always understood that
way? For those of a later generation who were already convinced of
a positive notion of an afterlife, such a saying could be invested with
another meaning: death in an eschatological sense, death followed by
a reward. In other words, virtue leads away from the finality of
death/sheol to a significant life beyond it, however that be envisioned
(life with God, etc.). We shall return to this idea in the Wisdom of
Solomon (e.g., Wis. 1:15). The same perspective is opened by such a
saying as Prov. 24:14 (cf., 23:18), which speaks of an “after” (’a½arit)
and a “hope” (tiqwa). While these concepts are literally meant for this
life, they are in themselves open-ended expressions and hence suscep-
tible to development at a later period.
Associated with this line of thinking is the antithesis between
Woman Wisdom and Dame Folly. The invitation of the former is to
life: “Whoever finds me finds life” (Prov. 8:35), and the invitation of
the latter, to death: “her guests are in the depths of sheol” (9:18)—
with the “shades.” Again, this is to be understood in context on the
level of sheer physical life/death (nor can a metaphorical meaning be
ruled out, i.e., a condition of serious distress or a “living death”). Yet,
when the figure of Woman Wisdom, who plays such a large role in
the wisdom literature, is given its full measure, there is a certain
patina of meaning suggested. Ultimately Woman Wisdom seems to
be promising more than prosperity in the here and now, a life that
transcends the death/sheol that is associated with her opposite
number, Dame Folly (Prov. 9:1-6; 13-18). The surplus is not speci-
fied, but there is a hint of something special.
In brief, one may characterize the afterlife in Proverbs as the tra-
 death and afterlife in the wisdom literature 105

ditional understanding of death/sheol which has been described

above. This is what one would expect from collections of sayings that
gained currency during a long span of Israelite history. Anyone who
would insist that there is a real afterlife by the very fact that one goes
to sheol (only to eke out a shadowy existence, largely undefined be-
cause simply unknown) is grasping at straws. This view fails to take
seriously the historical development of the notion of the afterlife that
will eventually emerge. The open-endedness will not be overlooked
by later readers.

Job. The well-known story of Job need not be retold. The issue is:
how does the author, through the various voices heard in the book,
portray death and the afterlife? As is to be expected, the book reflects
the basic understanding that we have already indicated. But there are
also examples of creative usage.
Thus in Job’s famous lament (Job 3:11-23), sheol and death are
welcomed! This vivid contrast to the usual view is caused by Job’s
suffering. At least in sheol, the reasoning goes, he would enjoy rest,
compared to the trouble he is now having. With a certain panache, he
describes how the great and the humble of this world, as well as the
wicked, enjoy a rest. In contrast, those who suffer in this world yearn
ardently for death and even rejoice in its coming. Death is the great
leveler, but paradoxically it provides a comparative surcease from
suffering. For Job, anything is better than the present situation. The
mythological understanding of death/sheol enables the author to
develop this theme.
In his speeches, Job lectures the three friends, but he prays to God,
and in a tender aside he ventures to suggest that God will miss him
when he is gone (7:8, 21): like a fading cloud, the one who goes down
to sheol does not come up; his very place knows him not (7:9-10). He
begs for respite not only in view of his brief life-span, but because he
is going to the place of no return (cf., 16:22), the land of darkness and
gloom, “where darkness is the only light” (10:21-22). The same de-
spondent air fills 17:13-16, where Job addresses corruption (or “pit,”
sa½at) as father, and maggots as mother and sister. He has no hope
(tiqwa), or at least, if any, it will go down with him to sheol. All of
these statements should be enough to motivate God to put an end to
Job’s suffering. Thus the view of afterlife presented in Job 3:23 is
given various spins in Job’s later pleas.
The most difficult and the least understood passage, and yet the
106 roland e. murphy

most famous, is Job’s declaration in 19:25-27. There is no certain

translation of these lines, but some clear points can be gleaned. First,
Job affirms faith in a go’el, or Vindicator, who will stand up for him (is
this Eloah? cf., v. 26b). Second, there is a threefold statement of seeing
this champion, and in the end Job does see the Lord (42:5). Third,
the timing of the vision(s) is not clear: does Job indicate that it will be
in this life, or afterward? There is no certain answer, but what cannot
be denied is Job’s tremendous act of faith in a Vindicator who will
appear to him personally and prove him right.
The view of the friends is a wooden presentation of the orthodox
view of death and the afterlife. God is on the side of the wise and
virtuous, who will enjoy the good life as their portion (Eliphaz in
5:22-27). The wicked shall be in torment all their days in this life
(Eliphaz in 15:20-34). The tragic life and end of the wicked is also
described by Bildad in 18:5-21. They perish without a name or sur-
vivor. Again the perspective is this life: “Such is the place of the one
who knows not God”—that is it, there is no place. The ephemeral
character of the life of the wicked is also vividly described by Zophar:
“the triumph of the wicked is short...the eye that saw him does so no
more, nor shall his dwelling again behold him” (20:5-9). Again no
place in this world; no memory, nothing to show for existence.
The concern of Elihu is to defend the divine honor which, as he
sees it, has not been done by the three friends. There is no need to
repeat the general lessons that are extensions of the points made by
the three. He affirms that God will deliver the repentant person from
the “pit” (ˆsa½at, four times in 33:18, 22, 28, 30), which is of course a
metaphorical understanding of sheol as the distress of the wrongdoer.
The virtuous will enjoy a long blessed life. It should be noted too that
Elihu reflects the standard biblical conception of the human compos-
ite: if the Almighty ever recalled his spirit and breath, all flesh would
perish and humankind return to the dust (34:14-15; cf., 33:4).
As is well known, the speeches of the Lord (chaps. 38-42) have
been scored as irrelevant. From the point of view of this essay, it
should be noted that there is not even the slightest hint of a change
in the divine handling of sheol and the afterlife. Indeed, Job is given
a new lease on life in the here and now. And he dies “full of years,”
one hundred and forty years later! This is typical of the traditional
emphasis on this life and its rewards. As one looks back on this book,
it is clear that there is no change in the general Israelite understand-
ing of sheol and the afterlife. But the imaginative use of the human
 death and afterlife in the wisdom literature 107

condition in the complaints of Job is striking. Whatever their limita-

tions, Hebrew poets know how to make the most of the many dispa-
rate ideas current in their time.

Qoheleth. In general, the people of the Bible betrayed a remarkably

resigned attitude to the finality of death. Human mortality, in the
sense of ephemeral existence here and the shadowy “existence” in
sheol, was put to various uses in pleas to Almighty God, but it was
never deplored as unjust fate; it was simply accepted (2 Sam. 14:14).
The allotted time for existence was a given, and within that span
happiness was to be achieved, if possible. Qoheleth forms an excep-
tion to this rather steady voice. Compared to Job, he displays little
passion; instead, there is much analysis and many statements about
the human condition. But one exclamation does present a rare view
of emotion on this issue: “How can the wise die just like the fools? So
I hated life...” (Eccl. 2:17). In this text Qoheleth’s objection to death
is not explicitly due to what follows after death; it is centered on
death itself; there should be some distinction between the wise and
the fool. Instead, miqreh (happening, or lot, in the sense of death; it
occurs seven times in Ecclesiastes; cf., 3:19; 9:2-3) afflicts everyone.
According to the tradition, the just are “remembered” (Prov. 10:7).
But not in Ecclesiastes; they are not remembered. This lack of re-
membrance is his particular grief at this point (2:16; cf., 1:11). Elimi-
nation by death is the “work of God,” mysterious and unintelligible
(7:13; 8:7).
The human lot appears again in 9:1-3. It is no consolation for the
just to be “in the hands of God;” this only means they are subject to
the will of a God who deals with them according to the divine pleas-
ure. The brutal fact is that no one knows from experience whether
God loves or hates them. The supreme manifestation of this is shown
by the same “lot” (miqreh) that comes to all—death. Here human
death appears to be blamed upon an arbitrary God, who makes no
distinctions between people, as also in 2:15-16.
We have been considering Qoheleth’s attitude toward death.
What about the aftermath, Qoheleth’s view of afterlife? Death and
aftermath are ultimately inseparable for him. In a striking passage
(3:19-21), he compares humans and beasts in terms of death and also
destiny. The two are alike in that they have the same miqreh and also
the same breath (rua½). Hence both go to the same place: from and to
the dust. There is nothing new here, as comparisons with Eccl. 12:7
108 roland e. murphy

and Job 34:14-15 (cf., also Sir. 40:11, Hebrew text) demonstrate. In
his day, there was apparently an effort to distinguish between the
spirit of humans that went up, and that of beasts, which went down.
The distinction does not tell us much, but some kind of differentia-
tion is intended (and a similar line of reasoning may lie behind
the masoretic vocalization of 3:19). To this Qoheleth says: “who
knows...?” It is his way of dismissing an issue in the negative. There
is no contradiction between 3:2l and 12:7 which says that the breath
returns to God. In both instances it is question of returning to the
source: God—just as the dust returns to earth. This hardly justifies
the view of C. F. Whitley (adopted by A. Schoors also) that “for
Koheleth death seems to indicate complete extinction....” What
“seems” to be a logical conclusion for us is not necessarily so for
Qoheleth, whose understanding of death is dire enough.6
Other statements of Qoheleth indicate that he shared in the gen-
eral notion that the living are eventually going to sheol. Of course,
this is the “non-life” that we have seen is the general notion of the
afterlife: “All that your hands find to do, do with might, because
there is no action, or answer, or knowledge, or wisdom in sheol
where you are going” (9:10). Some have pointed to 9:4 as excep-
tional, the only time in the book that “hope” is mentioned. In 4:2-3,
Qoheleth praises the dead because they are dead—as opposed to the
living who have their lives ahead of them. Then: the one who is
better off than both is the one who has never lived (and thus has not
been exposed to the evils of this life). In 9:4, by contrast, he seems to
attach some value to hope. Hope in what? Some kind of reward, trust
in God? M. Fox has caught the nuance here: “Bitta½on is not ‘hope’
(knowing that one will die is not a ‘hope’) or a feeling of security, but
rather something that can be relied on, something that one can be
certain about (cf., Is. 36:4).” 7 Indeed, there is bitter irony here: the
advantage of the living is to know... that they are going to die! Then
he tosses off an implicit comparison in what seems to have been a
saying that ostensibly favors life but really undermines the hope of
humans: “a live dog is better than a dead lion.” Dogs had no value in
the ancient world, and there is a touching pungency in the recalling
of the “dead lion.”
6
Cf. C.F. Whitley, Koheleth: His Language and Thought (Berlin, 1979), pp. 151, 167;
A. Schoors, “Koheleth: A Perspective of Life after Death?” Ephemerides theologicae
lovanienses 61, 1985, pp. 295-303.
7
M. Fox, Qohelet and His Contradictions (Sheffield, 1989), p. 258.
 death and afterlife in the wisdom literature 109

Despite the foregoing discussion, some scholars still insist that

Qoheleth somehow has a positive notion of the afterlife. G. Ogden
thinks that it is “the earliest Old Testament document to express,
albeit in a tentative manner, the thought that there is something
beyond death, at least for the wise. Qoheleth then marks one of the
earliest formal steps in the formulation of the thesis of the resurrec-
tion to life beyond the grave, at least for the wise.” He claims that
“Qoheleth can only intimate his belief. By opting for the question-
form (1.3, etc.), Qoheleth is indicating that he cannot prove that yitron
will be granted beyond the grave, but he insists that it is at least a
possibility, an extension of the goodness the wise may enjoy now.”8
Another commentator, D.A. Garrett, remarks concerning Eccl. 3:18-
22 that “while these verses may appear to be a categorical denial of
afterlife, such an interpretation would miss the mark.... Ecclesiastes
does not deny afterlife but does force the reader to take death seri-
ously.”9 Both of these views are strictly in the minority, and their
mistake probably consists in the fact they consider “non-life” in sheol
as some kind of afterlife.

Sirach. This book has had an unusual history. It was written originally
in Hebrew and this text practically dropped out of existence, at least
for the western world, for about fifteen centuries. The book was
known mainly from the Greek and other ancient translations. Then
portions of Hebrew text were discovered in a Cairo geniza at the end
of the nineteenth century, and this brought about a flurry of studies
at the time. Since then more discoveries of the Hebrew text occurred,
but it is only relatively recently that one can speak of another renais-
sance in Sirach studies.10
A fundamental reason for the uneven treatment that the book has
received is the difficulty of establishing a critical text. About two-
thirds of the Hebrew text has been recovered to date. Hence the
problem arises of judging when to follow the Hebrew or when to
correct it in the light of the Greek or other ancient versions. In
neither the Hebrew nor the Greek tradition does a uniform text exist.
In both traditions there are two distinct forms of the text, one more

8
G. Ogden, Qoheleth (Sheffield, 1987), pp. 15, 25.
9
D. Garrett, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs (Nashville, l993), pp. 304-305.
10
For the complicated history of the transmission of this book, see Patrick W.
Skehan and A. di Lella, The Wisdom of Ben Sira (New York, 1987), pp. 51-62.
110 roland e. murphy

expanded than the other. In addition, there are other ancient ver-
sions, such as the Old Latin, which are quite valuable because the
Old Latin was made from the Greek text very early on. The Old
Latin reflects the expanded Greek text and adds many expansions of
its own, calculated to be about seventy-five instances. Hence the
several witnesses to the original text also increase the problem of
translation and interpretation. During most of this century vernacu-
lar translations were simply based upon the Greek. Now expert criti-
cal translations have appeared and readers can feel more secure that
they are reading what Ben Sira wrote.11 The history of the text pro-
vides important background for the discussion of his attitude towards
death and the afterlife. In the expanded Greek tradition, there are
statements about the afterlife that go beyond what we find in the
Hebrew text, and so also for the Old Latin.
The Book of Sirach (also called “Ecclesiasticus,” probably mean-
ing “church” book) was favored by a valuable prologue to the Greek
version done by Sirach’s grandson, the translator. In it the grandson
gives us enough data to indicate the terminus ante quem of the book. We
can gather that the translation was made sometime after 132 B.C.E.
when he says he migrated to Egypt (probably to Alexandria, which
was home to a large portion of the Jewish Diaspora). Calculating
backward one may infer that Ben Sira was active around 200 B.C.E.,
and this date would fit with his description of Simon the high priest
in Sir. 50:1-21. Hence the year 180 is the approximate date given by
most scholars for the writing of the book. The importance of the
dating for our particular interest is clear: did Ben Sira share in some
ideas about the afterlife that were current at this time? He wrote
before the outbreak of the Maccabean rebellion around 165 B.C.E.
What was his attitude to the Hellenistic culture that pervaded Pales-
tine?
We can subscribe to the words of his translator who underscores
the familiarity of Sirach with Hebrew traditions: “So my grandfather
Jesus, who had devoted himself especially to the reading of the Law
and the Prophets and the other books of our ancestors, and had
acquired considerable proficiency in them, was himself also led to

11
The basic edition of the Greek text by J. Ziegler is to be corrected in the light
of the recovered Hebrew text. Such a critical translation is not easy, but see the
version of Skehan and Di Lella. In any case, the numbers of the versification by
Ziegler are to be followed.
 death and afterlife in the wisdom literature 111

write something pertaining to instruction and wisdom...” (prologue,

NRSV). The book is steeped in the biblical tradition, despite what-
ever single instances of extra-biblical evidence may be alleged. The
mention of the Law and the Prophets along with the “other books” is
one of the first signs of the eventual tripartite division of the Hebrew
Scriptures. Extravagant claims for Sirach’s knowledge of Greek au-
thors have been advanced.12 There may be some evidence for a
knowledge of Theognis and a late Egyptian work, known as Papyrus
Insinger. But the real source of Sirach’s thought remains the Bible,
especially the Book of Proverbs.
However, it is striking to read Sirach after Qoheleth and Job.
Apparently he did not find there what modern scholars find: books
that are allegedly on the edge of Israelite belief. He has no doubts
about divine retribution. He allows that there will be testing “when
you come to serve the Lord,” but one should trust in God (Sir. 2:1-6;
cf., 33:1). He is fascinated by the polarity that he sees in the world,
and he seems to find here some kind of argument on which a
theodicy might be built. However, it fails to answer the real prob-
lems. The polarity is stated more than once, and then exemplified:
“Look at all the works of the Most High; they come in pairs, one the
opposite of the other” (Sir. 33:15). “The works of God are all of them
good” (39:16, 33; cf., 42:15-25). Included in this polarity are good as
opposed to evil, life as opposed to death, and the godly as opposed to
the sinner. For the good all the divine benefits are good, but for the
wicked they turn out badly (39:25, 27). Such sayings can hardly be
classified as theodicy; they are affirmations of faith. The optimism of
Ben Sira is the optimism of traditional wisdom.
Although Ben Sira does not introduce new ideas about death and
the afterlife, his use of the traditional doctrine is creative in view of
the topics he is dealing with. He echoes the well-known statement of
various psalmists that there will be no praise of the Lord in sheol.
This motif is not used, as in the Psalter (Pss. 6:6; 30:10, etc.), as a plea
to be delivered from death (in the form of sickness or some distress).
Ben Sira uses it as a motif for repentance: because there will be no
opportunity to praise the Lord in sheol, one should turn now to the
merciful Lord (17:25-32) for forgiveness. He even reflects something
of the carpe diem of Qoheleth (Eccl. 9:7-10): “My child, treat yourself

12
Cf., T. Middendorp, Die Stellung Jesus ben Siras zwischen Judentum und Hellenismus
(Leiden, l973). Middendorp’s views have been contested by many other scholars.
112 roland e. murphy

well, according to your means, and present worthy offerings to the

Lord. Remember that death does not tarry... Give, and take, and
indulge yourself, because in Hades [= sheol] one cannot look for
luxury” (14:11-16). In this context he calmly accepts the ancient
law—that all must die (14:17). The same unruffled spirit appears in
another context, that of mourning. Some might judge that his advice
is even cold. “Do not give your heart to grief; drive it away, and
remember your own end. Do not forget, there is no coming back;
you do the dead no good and you injure yourself” (38:20-21). By
modern taste, he may seem too practical and expedient in the above
quoted verses, but in the context he is reasonable.
There is an ironic twist given to the consideration of the death of
a wise father who concentrates on the training of his son. When he
dies, he will not seem to be dead because he has left after himself one
who so closely resembles him (30:4). Such an experience gives joy in
life, and even in death one is without regret (30:5). This softening of
the pang of death is unusual; one’s progeny is a kind of Doppelgänger.
This motif is related to the “good name” that the virtuous will leave
after death (41:11-13) Already in Proverbs (10:7; cf., 22:1) it was
stated that the memory (zeker) of the just serves as a blessing, but the
name (šem) of the evil rots. In the passage from Sirach, the “name” is
repeated three times. “A virtuous name will never be annihilated”
(41:11). This emphasis on an “immortality” of name or reputation is
not unprecedented, but the emphasis placed upon it by Ben Sira is
striking. It has been claimed that it is a sign of Greek influence,
perhaps from Egypt, but the evidence is far from clear.13 It is not an
adequate solution for the problem of existence in an afterlife. But
neither was it to be neglected within the limited perspective of Sirach.
One of the most moving passages on death is found in Sir. 41:1-4,
which serves as a kind of pendant to a description of the miseries of
life in 40:1-17. There is no direct bearing here on the afterlife, but
the reality of sheol must be kept in mind in assessing the descriptions
of death/life. Ben Sira begins by affirming that it is God who is
responsible for the allotment of grief and anxiety that constitute the
human condition. Everyone, from king to pauper, is subject to the
troubles that life brings. This is true of “all flesh, human and beast,
and for sinners seven times more” (40:8); it is necessary to keep the

13
Cf., L. Schrader, Leiden und Gerechtigkeit: Studien zu Theologie und Textgeschichte des
Sirachbuches (Frankfurt am Main, 1994).
 death and afterlife in the wisdom literature 113

distinction between the just and the wicked! In this context he repeats
the familiar distinction between the return of the life breath “above”
to God and the return of dust to dust (40:11; cf., Eccl. 12:7; Job
34:14-15). With the injustice of the godless he now contrasts the
power of virtue: ½esed and ×edaqa will last forever. The temporal aspect
is not to be exaggerated; the perspective is still in this world. At the
same time, one may recall that according to Prov. 10:2 it is ×edaqa
that delivers from death. There is a continuity here that will eventu-
ally culminate in Wis. 1:15 (see below).
Another passage betrays Ben Sira’s acute perception of various
reactions to death, depending on the quality of life that one has
enjoyed: it is bitter for the prosperous, welcome to the weak (41:1-2).
The same contrast is found in Job 21:23-26, but in Sir. 41:2-3 it is
followed by a kind of meditation on death as a “decree” (½oq, twice),
presumably from God. The adequacy of the traditional compensa-
tion of a long life is passed over (apparently without regret). In sheol,
there will be no “arguments” (elegmos; tw½qwt) about life. This very
realistic appraisal reverts to the basic fact: the will of God. Ben Sira
goes on to describe the unhappy lot of the wicked in this life (41:5-9)
and to promise an “eternal” name (41:13) to the virtuous. In this he
is traditional, although the emphasis on the good name is more pro-
nounced than elsewhere.
A recurring phrase in the Bible is the “evil day” (yom ra‘a). This can
stand for other things besides death. It is used in Prov. 16:4 to desig-
nate some kind of divine judgment, and this may include disasters
short of death. However, the evil day par excellence is the day of death.
The wicked may escape due punishment, but eventually that day
catches up with them. In a sense it is the day of truth. Thus Sirach
characterizes it: “It is easy for the Lord on the day of death to reward
people according to their conduct.… Call no one happy before
death, because by how he ends, a person is known” (Sir. 11:26-28;
Qoheleth would agree with this; cf., Eccl. 7:1). Such a dire portrayal
is balanced by emphasis on the mercy and forgiveness that the Lord
extends to those who turn to him: “He sees and understands that
their end (katastrophð, overturning) is evil (ponðra), so he forgives them
all the more” (18:12). It is worthy of note that human death can even
be considered as a motive for divine mercy. This notion emerges
from the theme of human evanescence and frailty that appears so
frequently in the Bible (e.g., Ps. 90) and is also part of Ben Sira’s
thought (e.g., Sir. 14:17-19). On the whole, it is somewhat surprising
114 roland e. murphy

to read that the fear of the Lord offsets this evil day: “Those who fear
the Lord will have a happy end; on the day of their death they will be
blessed” (Sir. 1:13). This is not a reference to a blessed afterlife; it is
a recognition of what fear of the Lord has brought to such a person
during this life and to which he can look back: glory, gladness, joy,
length of days (1:11-13). Such statements are to be interpreted from
the perspective of Sirach, but what about later readers of the Bible?
Were there expressions in Sirach that induced them to break through
the limitations of traditional wisdom that Sirach inherited?
It would not be appropriate to leave this book without indicating
something of its Nachleben in the various translations that mark a
continuing interpretation of the work. A new and different under-
standing of the afterlife emerges, as several studies have shown. We
wish merely to indicate some instances of such expansions from the
Greek and Old Latin tradition. One must keep in mind the compli-
cated history of the early recensions of Sirach, both in Hebrew (H I
and II) and in Greek (G I and II). As far as the eschatological refer-
ences are concerned, these appear especially in G II, to which our
remarks will be confined.
In Sir. 7:17, there is an addition of “fire” to the “worms” that
await human beings in the afterlife. Worms cause no surprise; they
formed part of the imaginative personification of death/sheol that
begins in the grave. But fire is probably an addition that comes from
a mentality that distinguished between reward and punishment in the
next life. Again, in 16:22, there is a Greek addition (placed in the
margin of the NRSV) that modifies the impact of v. 22 by pointing to
a scrutiny that awaits all. We can adopt here the summary of the
eschatology of Greek II and the Old Latin presented by C. Kearns:
“after death there is to be for each individual a day of judgement on
which God will ‘visit’ him and make enquiry into all his actions. For
the wicked it will be a day of wrath and vengeance.... For the just it
will mean entrance into the Future World, the Holy World, the ‘lot’
of truth. There they will enjoy eternal life....”14

14
Kearns has summarized his views in his comment on Sirach in A New Catholic
Commentary on Holy Scripture (London, 1969), pp. 541-562; the quotation is from p.
549. See also F.V. Reiterer, “Deutung und Wertung des Todes durch Ben Sira,” in
J. Zmijewski, ed., Die alttestamentliche Botschaft also Wegweisung (H. Reinelt Festschrift;
Stuttgart, 1990), pp. 203-236.
 death and afterlife in the wisdom literature 115

The Wisdom of Solomon. This is an intensely Jewish book, but at the

same time a very Greek work. The author was an erudite Jew of the
diaspora, probably living in Alexandria, the center of a large Jewish
population. It is difficult to fix the date, but sometime around the
beginning of the first century B.C.E./C.E. seems likely. His work is
concerned with three main topics: the gift of immortality, a descrip-
tion of Woman Wisdom, and a kind of midrash on the Egyptian
plagues recorded in Exodus.
His view of the afterlife of the just is ultimately very clear and firm.
Their righteousness is “undying” (athanatos, Wis. l:15), and they are
accounted among the sons of God, the members of the heavenly
court (5:5). The afterlife of the wicked is not a topic that the author
is really interested in. It is one of punishment, but this description is
filled with the cliches familiar to the wisdom literature (4:18-19). The
reasoning of the author is not as simple as these flat statements sug-
gest. M. Kolarcik15 has pointed out the ambiguity of death in chaps.
1-6. Physical death, or simple mortality, is ambiguous. In itself, it is a
simple limitation of human existence. But it is also “a condition from
which the just realize their union with God through a virtuous life;
for the wicked it is a condition which signifies ultimate meaningless-
ness.” For the wicked employ the carpe diem motif to deny ultimate
death, and hence they hate and want to kill the righteous who is a
contradiction to all they stand for. Then there is ultimate death—the
death not made or willed by God (Wis. 1:13) but which the devil
introduced into the cosmos for his followers to experience (2:24). The
striking scene of the judgment separates the wicked from the right-
eous. The former cry out in grief as they recognize that the just one
whom they persecuted is now counted among the sons of God, mem-
bers of the divine family (5:5).
It is clear that there is a break-through on the issue of human
immortality. Is this an immortality that is inherent to humans, due to
the “immortality” of the soul? Many claim that this is so, and that the
author is indebted to Greek thought.16 That could very well be. But it
15
M. Kolarcik, The Ambiguity of Death in the Book of Wisdom 1-6 (Rome, 1981).
16
D. Winston in Anchor Bible Dictionary, vol. VI, p. 123b, insists on the primacy of
the Greek understanding of soul and its immortality in the Book of Wisdom. Con-
trast C. Larcher, Etudes sur le livre de Sagesse (Paris, 1969), pp. 237-327, whose treat-
ment of the question is detailed and nuanced. He grants that the author knew the
Greek views about the survival of the soul, but he does not repeat them as such. “For
him the soul is taken back, gathered by God, and immortality is both a sanction of
righteousness and a favor given to the ‘chosen’” (p. 314). Larcher grants that the
116 roland e. murphy

is not at all evident that he reaches his conclusion by way of the

Greek understanding of the human composite. He writes: righteous-
ness (not: the soul) is undying (1:15). It is obvious that he is aware of
Greek philosophy and the distinction between the body and the soul
(Wis. 3:1; 9:15). But his understanding of the Greek psychð is not clear,
even when he says that the “souls of the just are in the hand of God”
(3:1). Does the term “soul” in 3:1 translate more than the Hebrew
nepeš? He does not reason from the nature of the soul to a blessed
immortality; he states that righteousness (a relationship with God) is
undying, i.e., as long as that relationship perdures. The very exist-
ence of the wicked implies that the relationship can be rejected by
human beings.

Bibliography

Amir, Y., “The Figure of Death in the ‘Book of Wisdom,’” in Journal of

Jewish Studies 30, 1979, pp. 154-178.
Collins, J.J., “The Root of Immortality: Death in the Context of Jewish
Wisdom,” in Harvard Theological Review 71, l978, pp. 177-192.
Cottini, V., La vita futura nel libro dei Proverbi (Jerusalem, 1984).
Grelot, P., De la mort à la vie eternelle (Paris, 1971).
Hamp, V., “Zukunft und Jenseits im Buche Sirach,” in Alttestamentliche Studien
(F. Nötscher Festschrift; Bonn, 1950), pp. 86-97.
Kaiser, O., and E. Lohse, Death and Life (Nashville,1981).
Kolarcik, M., The Ambiguity of Death in the Book of Wisdom 1-6 (Anchor Bible
127; Rome, 1991).
Larcher, C., “L’immortalité de l’âme et les rétributions transcendantes,” in
Larcher, C., ed., Etudes sur le livre de la Sagesse (Paris, l969), pp. 237-327.
Nickelsburg, G.W., Resurrection, Immortality, and Eternal Life in Intertestamental
Judaism (Cambridge, l972).
Reiterer, F. V., “Deutung und Wertung des Todes durch Ben Sira,” in
Zmijewski, J., ed., Die alttestamentliche Botschaft als Wegweisung (H. Reinelt
Festschrift; Stuttgart:, 1990), pp. 203-236.
Taylor, R.J., “The Eschatological Meaning of Life and Death in the Book of
Wisdom I-V,” in Ephemerides theologicae lovanienses 42, 1966, pp. 72-137.
Tromp, N.J., Primitive Conceptions of Death and the Nether World in the Old Testa-
ment (Rome, l969).

special nature of the soul (to survive the body) is presupposed. But “the author
explicitly attaches his doctrine of immortality to previous biblical data. He speaks of
a qualified immortality that is the privilege of just souls” (p. 299).
 II.

JUDAIC WRITINGS IN GREEK

 5. THE AFTERLIFE IN APOCALYPTIC LITERATURE

John J. Collins
The University of Chicago

The apocalyptic literature was a new phenomenon in Judaism in the

Hellenistic period.1 Some of its distinctive characteristics can be
found already in the late prophetic literature of the Second Temple
period, which is sometimes called “proto-apocalyptic” literature.2 But
the apocalypses of the third and second centuries B.C.E., written in
the names of Enoch and Daniel, have a significantly different
worldview from the Book of Zechariah or the incorrectly labeled
“Apocalypse of Isaiah” (Is. 24-27). The difference appears precisely
in the understanding of life after death. Hope for a differentiated
afterlife, where the good are rewarded and the wicked are punished,
first appears in Jewish tradition in the apocalypses of Enoch and
Daniel, and it is in this area that the apocalyptic literature makes its
most significant contribution to Jewish tradition.3

Resurrection in late prophetic texts

The language of resurrection can be found already in prophetic texts

of the exilic and early post-exilic periods. The most famous example
is found in Ezekiel’s vision of a valley full of dry bones (Ezek. 37). The
interpretation of the vision is quite explicit, however: “these bones
are the whole house of Israel” (37:11). The resurrection, then, is

1
J.J. Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination (2nd ed.; Grand Rapids, 1998); “The Place
of Apocalypticism in the Religion of Israel,” in idem, Seers, Sibyls and Sages (Leiden,
1997), pp. 39-58.
2
P.D. Hanson, The Dawn of Apocalyptic (Philadelphia, 1975).
3
J.J. Collins, “Apocalyptic Eschatology as the Transcendence of Death,” in Seers,
Sibyls and Sages, pp. 75-98. For surveys of apocalyptic texts dealing with resurrection
or eternal life, see G.W. Nickelsburg, Resurrection, Immortality and Eternal Life in Inter-
testamental Judaism (Cambridge, 1972); G. Stemberger, Der Leib der Auferstehung: Studien
zur Anthropologie und Eschatologie des palästinischen Judentums im neutestamentlichen Zeitalter
(Rome, 1972); H.C. Cavallin, Life after Death: Paul’s Argument for the Resurrection of the
Dead in 1 Cor 15 (Lund, 1974); E. Puech, La Croyance des Esséniens en la Vie Future:
Immortalité, Résurrection, Vie Éternelle? (Paris, 1993), pp. 99-154.
120 john j. collins

metaphorical, although the passage would be interpreted literally in

the Dead Sea Scrolls (4Q385) and later tradition. What is at issue is
the restoration of the people of Israel. This is most probably also the
case in the so-called “Apocalypse of Isaiah.” Is. 26:19 declares: “your
dead shall live, their corpses shall rise. O dwellers in the dust, awake
and sing for joy! For your dew is a radiant dew and the earth will give
birth to those long dead.” Some scholars think that this passage
reflects a belief in actual resurrection.4 Those who will rise, however,
are contrasted with another group, of whom it is said: “The dead do
not live; shades do not rise—because you have punished and de-
stroyed them and wiped out all memory of them. But you have
increased the nation, O Lord...you have enlarged all the borders of
the land” (26:15). In view of the contrast between the dead who do
not rise and the nation that is enlarged, it is likely that the resurrec-
tion is the resurrection of the people, as in Ezekiel.5 Is. 25:6 promises
that God “will swallow up Death forever,” an allusion to an old
Canaanite myth that said that Death (Mot) swallowed the God Baal.
That passage would seem to imply that at some future time there will
be no more death, but not necessarily that those who have died will
rise again.
The fact that the language of resurrection is introduced in these
texts may be due to the acquaintance of Jews with Persian thought,
where resurrection had an integral place in future expectation. 6 But
belief in actual resurrection of individuals was not accepted widely if
at all in Judaism in the Persian period. One of the passages that is
most frequently dubbed “proto-apocalyptic is Is. 65:17-25, which
begins: “For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth.” In
this new creation, one who dies at a hundred will be considered a
youth, and one who falls short of a hundred will be considered ac-
cursed. Life will be longer and better, but it will still be mortal. This
remained the standard Jewish eschatological expectation down to the
Hellenistic period.

4
Nickelsburg, Resurrection, p. 18; Puech, La Croyance des Esséniens, pp. 66-73; G.F.
Hasel, “Resurrection in the Theology of Old Testament Apocalyptic,” in ZAW 92,
1980, pp. 267-284.
5
J. Day, “Resurrection Imagery from Baal to the Book of Daniel,” in J.A.
Emerton, ed., Congress Volume 1995 (Leiden, 1997), pp. 125-134.
6
B. Lang, “Street Theater, Raising the Dead, and the Zoroastrian Connection in
Ezekiel’s Preaching,” in J. Lust, ed., Ezekiel and His Book (Leuven, 1986), pp. 297-316.
 the afterlife in apocalyptic literature 121

The Book of the Watchers

This expectation is changed radically in the Enochic literature. The

Book of the Watchers (1 Enoch 1-36) is a composite text, which took
shape in the third or early second centuries B.C.E. These chapters
show no awareness of the Maccabean revolt and were probably writ-
ten prior to it. Enoch ascends to heaven to present the petition of the
Watchers, or fallen angels. The petition is rejected, because angels
should intercede for men, not men for angels (15:2). The Watchers
had abandoned a spiritual, eternal life to have intercourse with hu-
man women and produce children of flesh and blood, “as those do
who die and are destroyed” (15:4). One of the essential contrasts
throughout the Enoch literature is between the spiritual, eternal life,
on the one hand, and the fleshly, mortal life on the other. The fall of
the angels is a fall into mortality, while conversely the ascent of
Enoch is an ascent to eternal life.
After Enoch is given the reply to the Watchers, he is taken on a
guided tour to the ends of the earth, in which he sees the mysteries of
the cosmos. In the course of this tour he sees “in the west a large and
high mountain, and a hard rock and four beautiful7 places” (1 Enoch
22:1). The angel Raphael explains that these places were created that
“the spirits, the souls of the dead might be gathered into them.”
There they would be kept until the day of judgment. The different
compartments are meant to separate the souls of the dead: “And thus
the souls of the righteous have been separated; this is the spring of
water, and on it is the light. Likewise a place has been created for
sinners when they die and are buried in the earth and judgment has
not come upon them during their life...and thus a place has been
separated for the souls of those who complain and give information
about their destruction, when they were killed in the days of the
sinners. Thus a place has been created for the souls of men who are
not righteous but sinners, accomplished in wrongdoing, and with the
wrongdoers will be their lot. But their souls will not be killed on the
day of judgement, nor will they rise from here” (22: 9-14).
There is no close parallel to this passage in other Jewish apocalyp-
tic writings, not even in the other Enochic books.8 Various traditions

7
The Ethiopic here appears to be a misreading of the Greek word for “hollow.”
8
The closest parallel is found in the fragmentary Apocalypse of Zephaniah. See
further below.
122 john j. collins

about the afterlife are reflected in it.9 The location of the chambers of
the dead inside a mountain recalls the Epic of Gilgamesh, where
Gilgamesh has to enter the base of a mountain to reach the
Netherworld. The motif of water and light is associated with the
afterlife of the blessed in Orphic tradition. The main significance of
the passage is that it shows distinctions between the fate of the right-
eous and of sinners, in a manner not attested in earlier Jewish tradi-
tion.10
These chambers, however, are only the waiting places. Enoch goes
on to see a mountain “whose summit is like the throne of the Lord”
(25:3). This, he is told, is the throne where the Lord will sit when he
comes down to visit the earth for good. It is surrounded by fragrant
trees, one of which is the tree of life that will be given to the right-
eous. “It will be planted in a holy place, by the house of the Lord,
the Eternal King. Then they will rejoice with joy and be glad in the
holy place; they will each draw the fragrance of it into their bones,
and they will live a long life on earth as your fathers lived” (25: 5-6).
It is not clear that they will enjoy strictly eternal life; the language
suggests extremely long lives like the first patriarchs. Elsewhere in the
Book of the Watchers we are told that the Watchers hoped “for
eternal life, and that each of them would live five hundred years”
(10:10). The location of the tree of life is separate from that of the
tree of wisdom from which Adam ate, which is in the Garden of
Righteousness, far away to the east (chap. 33).
Enoch further sees “an accursed valley” (Gehenna?) which is for
“those who are cursed for ever; here will be gathered together all who
speak with their mouths against the Lord words that are not fitting
and say hard things about his glory” (27:2). The Watchers, in chapter
10, are imprisoned under the hills of the earth for seventy generations
and then condemned to the abyss of fire for all eternity (10:13). In
chapter 21, Enoch sees the fiery prison of the angels, where they are
held forever (cf., 18:14-16). We have here the beginnings of the idea
of Hell, even though the valley of the accursed is not explicitly said to
be fiery.11 There is a precedent for the prison of the host of heaven in

9
M.T. Wacker, Weltordnung und Gericht. Studien zu 1 Henoch 22 (Würzburg, 1982).
10
T.F. Glasson, Greek Influence in Jewish Eschatology (London, 1961), pp. 8-19, argues
for Greek influence in this respect. On the detail of the distinctions see Nickelsburg,
Resurrection, pp. 134-137.
11
For a general treatment, see A.E. Bernstein, The Formation of Hell. Death and
Retribution in the Ancient and Early Christian Worlds (Ithaca, 1993).
 the afterlife in apocalyptic literature 123

Is. 24:22 (“they will be shut up in a prison, and after many days they
will be punished”), but the prison there is not fiery. The idea of Hell
as a place of fiery punishment, which became standard in Christian-
ity, seems to have been first developed in Judaism. The idea of a
place of punishment in the Netherworld is found in Plato (Republic
10.614-21; Gorgias 523) and is thought to derive from Orphic teach-
ings. In Persian eschatology, the wicked were destroyed by a stream
of molten metal (Bundahishn 34). The idea of eternal punishment by
fire, however, first appears here in 1 Enoch. There was a precedent
in Is. 66:24, where we are told that dead bodies of people who rebel
against God will be on permanent display: “their worm shall not die
and their flame shall not be quenched.” It is not suggested, however,
that they are alive to experience everlasting torment.

Other Enochic apocalypses

The Book of the Watchers has the most elaborate mythical geogra-
phy of the early Enoch apocalypses. Some of the other booklets that
make up 1 Enoch also have important ideas about life after death.
The “Animal Apocalypse” in 1 Enoch 85-90 presents an allegorical
account of the history of Israel, in which the Israelites are represented
as sheep and the nations as predatory animals.12 Adam and the pre-
diluvian patriarchs are bulls. The fallen angels of Gen. 6 are stars
that fall from heaven. Noah is born a bull but becomes a man. Moses
is a sheep at first but becomes a man. Otherwise, men in this apoca-
lypse symbolize angels. The seventy shepherds that rule over the
sheep in the post-exilic period are most plausibly interpreted as the
patron angels of the nations. The “man” who records all their deeds
(90:14) is a recording angel. The history culminates in a judgment,
when “the Lord of the sheep” is enthroned in “the pleasant land”
(Israel), and the sealed books are opened. The fallen angels and the
seventy shepherds are condemned, and thrown into “a deep place
full of fire, burning and full of pillars of fire” (90:25). The “blind
sheep” (Jewish apostates) are likewise thrown into an abyss of fire. All
that had been destroyed and scattered are reassembled (90:33: prob-
ably a reference to the resurrection of the dead). Finally the sheep are
all transformed into white bulls, the pristine Adamic form of exist-

12
P.A. Tiller, A Commentary on the Animal Apocalypse of 1 Enoch (Atlanta, 1993).
124 john j. collins

ence. The emphasis here seems to be on the transformation of the

elect rather than restoration to a previous form of existence.
The Epistle of Enoch (1 Enoch 91-105) also predicts resurrection
at the end of history. The Lord will execute judgment and the idols
of the nations will be destroyed in a judgment of fire. Then “the
righteous will rise from sleep, and wisdom will rise and will be given
to them” (1 Enoch 90:9-10). Elsewhere, however, the Epistle asserts
the future vindication of the righteous in terms that do not suggest
bodily resurrection but the transformation of the spirit after death: 13
Do not be afraid, you souls of the righteous, and be hopeful, you who
have died in righteousness. And do not be sad that your souls have gone
down into Sheol in sadness, and that your bodies did not obtain during
your life a reward (102: 4-5)...much good will be given to you in recom-
pense for your toil, and your lot will be more excellent than that of the
living. And the spirits of you who have died in righteousness will live,
and their spirits will rejoice and be glad, and the memory of them will
remain” (103:3-4)
Sinners will be committed to “darkness and chains and burning
flames” (103:8), but the righteous “will shine like the lights of heaven
and will be seen, and the gate of heaven will be opened to you...for
you will have great joy like the angels of heaven...for you shall be
associates of the host of heaven” (104: 2-6).
The reward of the righteous is to share the eternal, spiritual life of
the angels in heaven. This is not the Greek idea of immortality of the
soul, but neither is it the resurrection of the body. Rather it is the
resurrection, or exaltation, of the spirit from Sheol to heaven. The
bodies of the righteous will presumably continue to rest in the earth.
A similar understanding of the resurrection is found explicitly in the
Book of Jubilees, another writing from the second century B.C.E.
that may be some decades later than the Epistle of Enoch. There we
are told that at a future time when people return to the path of
righteousness their lives will grow longer until the number of their
years becomes greater than once was the number of their days. After
that “their bones shall rest in the earth, and their spirits shall have
much joy” (Jub. 23:26-31).
The theme of angelic transformation is continued in the latest
section of 1 Enoch, the Similitudes (1 Enoch 37-71), which probably
dates from the first century C.E. The focus of this text is on the day

13
Nickelsburg, Resurrection, pp. 112-129.
 the afterlife in apocalyptic literature 125

of judgment, when the appearances of the present will be reversed.14

Sinners will be confounded by the apparition of the heavenly Right-
eous One, who is identified as “that Son of Man” by allusion to the
vision of “one like a son of man” in Dan. 7. The sinners have denied
the existence of this heavenly vindicator and also of the resting places
of the righteous after death. Enoch claims to have seen these resting
places in a vision: “there my eyes saw their dwelling with the angels
and their resting-places with the holy ones.... And I saw their dwell-
ing under the wings of the Lord of Spirits, and all the righteous and
chosen shone before him like the light of fire, and their mouth was
full of blessing” (1 Enoch 39:5-7). When “that Son of Man” appears,
“he will cast down the faces of the strong, and shame will fill them,
and darkness will be their dwelling, and worms will be their resting-
place; and they will have no hope of rising from their resting-places”
(45:5).
Another section of the Similitudes looks forward to a general res-
urrection: “And in those days the earth will return that which has
been entrusted to it, and Sheol will return that which has been en-
trusted to it, that which it has received” (51:1). In his visions, Enoch
sees “the angel of punishment going and preparing all the instru-
ments of Satan” (53:3) and a deep valley of burning fire that is
prepared for the hosts of Azazel (chapter 54). The sinners also expect
a fiery punishment. When they are confronted by the Son of Man,
they confess: “Our souls are sated with possessions gained through
iniquity, but they do not prevent our going down into the flames of
the torment of Sheol” (53:10). Here it appears that Sheol has become
identified as a place of punishment. The sinners cannot hope to rise
from there. The righteous, in contrast, may expect eternal life in the
company of the Son of Man: “with you will be their dwelling, and
with you their lot, and they will not be separated from you, for ever
and ever and ever” (71:16).

The resurrection in Daniel

The exaltation of the righteous after death to join the host of heaven
is also fundamental to the understanding of the resurrection in the

14
See Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination, pp. 177-193.
126 john j. collins

Book of Daniel.15 The prediction of resurrection in Dan. 12:1-3

comes at the end of a long revelation to Daniel by the angel Gabriel,
which outlines the course of Hellenistic history in the form of a
prophecy after the fact. This history reaches its climax in the career
of Antiochus Epiphanes and his persecution of the Jews. Daniel in-
correctly predicts that the king will meet his death in the land of
Israel, but the real climax of history comes after that (Dan 12:1-3):
At that time Michael will arise, the great prince who stands over your
people. There will be a time of distress such as had not been from the
beginning of the nation to that time. At that time your people will be
delivered, everyone who is found written in the book. Many of those
who sleep in the dusty earth will awake, some to everlasting life and
some to reproach and everlasting disgrace. The wise will shine like the
splendor of the firmament, and those who lead the common people to
righteousness like the stars forever and ever.
This is the only passage in the Hebrew Bible that clearly predicts the
resurrection of individuals. It does not predict universal resurrection:
many of those who sleep will arise, but not all. Those who are raised
are the very good, for their reward, and the very bad, for punish-
ment. The phrase “dusty earth” (‘admat ‘apar) may refer either to the
grave or Sheol or both. It does not necessarily imply that the resur-
rection must be physical; it may be a resurrection of the spirit from
Sheol. The fate of the sinners is expressed briefly by means of an
allusion to Is. 66:24. Daniel does not refer to the fiery abyss that is
the standard place of punishment in the Enoch literature. The de-
scription of the eternal life of the righteous is equally terse. We are
told only that the wise (maskilim) will shine like the stars. The maskilim
were the heroes who stood fast in the time of persecution (11:33-35)
and instructed the people, even though some of them lost their lives.
The elevation to the stars has overtones of astral immortality, the
belief that the dead become stars, which was widespread in the
Greco-Roman world.16 In the context of Jewish apocalyptic litera-
ture, however, the stars are the host of heaven, or the angelic host.
The destiny of the wise in Daniel, then, is exactly the same as that of
the righteous in the Epistle of Enoch: to become companions of the
host of heaven. The angelic host looms large in the visions of Daniel,

15
J.J. Collins, Daniel (Minneapolis, 1993), pp. 390-398.
16
F. Cumont, Lux Perpetua (Paris, 1949), pp. 142-288; M.P. Nilsson, Geschichte der
griechischen Religion (3rd ed.; Munich, 1967), vol. 2, pp. 470-471.
 the afterlife in apocalyptic literature 127

which often involve angelic activity and always require an angelic

interpreter. The resurrection is ushered in by the victory of the arch-
angel Michael in his battle against the patron angels of Persia and
Greece (Dan. 10). In chapter 7, Israel is called “the people of the holy
ones,” or the people who are the earthly counterpart to the heavenly
host.

Sources of the belief

The books of Enoch and Daniel may be regarded as the formative

documents of Jewish apocalyptic tradition. The belief in a blessed
afterlife for the righteous and eternal punishment for the damned is
an integral part of that tradition and is one of the factors that distin-
guishes apocalypticism from earlier Jewish tradition. In the case of
Daniel, the hope for resurrection resolves a problem arising from
religious persecution. In traditional Israelite belief, the righteous were
rewarded in this life, by prosperity and longevity. During the perse-
cution of the Maccabean era, however, it was precisely the righteous
who lost their lives. Faith in the justice of God could be maintained
if the righteous could hope for a reward after death.
It would be too simple, however, to view the apocalyptic hope for
the afterlife entirely as a response to the problem of persecution. The
Book of the Watchers is certainly older than the Maccabean era. The
Epistle of Enoch may be older too. Neither of these books is set in a
time of persecution, but both depict a world out of joint. The Book of
the Watchers describes a world turned upside down by the Watchers,
who taught humanity charms and spells and also the making of
weapons and the arts of ornamentation: “and the world was
changed. And there was great impiety and much fornication, and
they went astray, and all their ways became corrupt.” (1 Enoch 8:2).
The account of the Watchers can be read plausibly as an allegory for
the Hellenistic age, and the impact of western culture on a traditional
Near Eastern society.17 If this is correct, the apocalypse was written as
a response to cultural trauma and offered an alternative reality in its
visions of hidden places and life beyond death. The Epistle of Enoch
and the later Similitudes place the emphasis rather on social tensions:

17
G.W. Nickelsburg, “Apocalyptic and Myth in 1 Enoch 1-11,” in Journal of
Biblical Literature 96, 1977, pp. 383-405.
128 john j. collins

“Woe to those who build their houses with sin, for from their whole
foundation they will be thrown down, and by the sword they will fall,
and those who acquire gold and silver will quickly be destroyed in the
judgment. Woe to you, you rich, for you have trusted in your riches
but from your riches you will depart, for you did not remember the
Most High in the days of your riches” (1 Enoch 104:7-8). In the
Similitudes, the wicked who are discomfited on judgment day are
“the kings and the mighty.” Here again the hope for life beyond
death can be correlated with dissatisfaction with life in the present.
Other nations in the ancient Mediterranean world had well devel-
oped notions of life after death. These notions were perhaps best
developed in Egypt, where portrayals of the judgment of the dead
date back to the dawn of history.18 Greek ideas of reward and punish-
ment after death are associated with Orphic religion and are docu-
mented in the dialogues of Plato and now in the gold tablets from
burial sites in Italy.19 Neither the Egyptians nor the Greeks conceived
of an end of history that might be the occasion of a general resurrec-
tion. Such an idea was, however, an integral part of Persian eschatol-
ogy and can be documented already in Hellenistic times.20 There is
surely some influence from these sources on the early Jewish
apocalypses. (The overtones of astral immortality in Dan. 12 provide
a case in point). But the ideas of immortality that we find in these
texts can not be categorized as simple borrowings. They adapt motifs
from the surrounding cultures, but they re-configure them in a dis-
tinctive way. Immortality in these apocalypses is primarily life with
the heavenly host, the holy ones known from Near Eastern mythol-
ogy since the second millennium B.C.E. The notion of a fiery hell is
more novel, but here again the novelty is achieved by bricolage. The
Orphics did not conceive of fire as the main means of punishment in
the afterlife. Persian eschatology knew the idea of a fiery destruction
of the world, and the Stoics had their own conception of a final

18
J.G. Griffiths, The Divine Verdict. A Study of Divine Judgement in the Ancient Religions
(Leiden, 1991), pp. 160-242.
19
E. Rohde, Psyche, The Cult of Souls and Belief in Immortality among the Greeks (New
York, 1925); F. Graf, “Dionysian and Orphic Eschatology. New Texts and Old
Questions,” in T.H. Carpenter and C.A. Faraone, eds., Masks of Dionysus (Ithaca,
1993), pp. 239-258.
20
On Persian eschatology, see A. Hultgård, “Persian Apocalypticism,” in J.J.
Collins, B. McGinn and S. Stein, eds., The Encyclopedia of Apocalypticism (New York,
1998), vol. 1, pp. 39-83. The Persian belief in resurrection is corroborated by
Theopompus in the third century B.C.E. (Diogenes Laertius, Proem 6-9).
 the afterlife in apocalyptic literature 129

conflagration or ekpyrosis. The notion of a fiery Hell, however, ap-

pears to be a Jewish invention, which was later elaborated by Chris-
tianity.
It is often claimed that Jews believed in resurrection of the body,
while Greeks believed in immortality of the soul.21 Such a claim fails
to do justice to the books of Enoch and Daniel. What we find in these
apocalypses is the resurrection of the spirit. It is not the Greek idea of
the soul, but neither is it a physical body. In the terminology of St.
Paul, it might be described as a spiritual body (cf., 1 Cor. 15:44).
Ideas of physical resurrection also gained currency in Judaism in the
second century B.C.E., as can be seen from the account of the
martyrdoms in 2 Mac. 7. But restoration of the body was only one of
a number of ways in which the resurrection could be imagined. It
was never the sole, nor even the dominant, concept of afterlife in
ancient Judaism.

The spread of beliefs in afterlife

The ideas of afterlife that we find in the early apocalypses were

adapted in other bodies of literature that are reviewed elsewhere in
this volume. In the Dead Sea Scrolls, the fellowship with the angels,
which was reserved for life after death in Enoch and Daniel, is con-
ceived as a present possibility. 22 In Alexandrian Judaism, the resur-
rection of the spirit is reconceived as the immortality of the soul.23
Ideas of resurrection spread to different segments of Jewish society
around the turn of the era. The Pharisees accepted them; the
Sadducees did not.24 Belief in a judgment of the dead ceased to be a
distinctive characteristic of apocalyptic movements. We do, however,
have two clusters of apocalyptic texts from the late first or early
second centuries C.E. that show significant developments in Jewish
conceptions of afterlife.

21
E.g., O. Cullmann, “Immortality of the Soul or Resurrection of the Dead,” in
K. Stendahl, ed., Immortality and Resurrection (New York, 1971), pp. 9-35. See the
comments of Nickelsburg, Resurrection, pp. 177-180.
22
J.J. Collins, Apocalypticism in the Dead Sea Scrolls (London, 1997), pp. 110-129.
23
J.J. Collins, Jewish Wisdom in the Hellenistic Age (Louisville, 1997), pp. 185-187.
24
Puech, La Croyance, pp. 201-242.
130 john j. collins

4 Ezra and 2 Baruch

The first cluster is found in the apocalypses of 4 Ezra and 2 Baruch,

written after the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 C.E., towards the end
of the first century. In 4 Ezra, an angel assures Ezra that the time will
come when the messiah will be revealed and will rule for four hun-
dred years. After the messianic age, the world will be turned back to
primeval silence for seven days. Then it will be roused again, and
“that which is corruptible shall perish. And the earth shall give up
those who are asleep in it, and the dust those who dwell silently in it;
and the chambers shall give up the souls which have been committed
to them” (4 Ezra 7:30-33). Then follow judgment and recompense.
“Then the pit of torment shall appear, and opposite it shall be the
place of rest; and the furnace of hell shall be disclosed, and opposite
it the paradise of delight” (7:36). Ezra asks about the interval,
“whether after death, as soon as everyone of us yields up his soul, we
shall be kept in rest until those times come when thou wilt renew the
creation, or whether we shall be tormented at once” (7:75). He is told
that the souls of the unrighteous do not immediately enter into habi-
tations but wander grieving in torments, because they realize the
error of their ways. The righteous immediately see the glory of God
and rejoice. Their face is to shine like the sun, and they are to be
made like the light of the stars. There will no longer be any interces-
sion on the day of judgment, but everyone will be judged on his or
her own merits. Ezra objects that “there are more who perish than
those who will be saved as a wave is greater than a drop of water”
(9:15-16). But Ezra’s angelic dialogue partner offers little consolation
on this issue: “The Most High made this world for the sake of many,
but the world to come for the sake of few. But I will tell you a
parable, Ezra. Just as, when you ask the earth, it will tell you that it
provides very much clay from which earthenware is made, but only a
little dust from which gold comes; so is the course of the present
world. Many have been created, but few shall be saved” (8:1-3).
The roughly contemporary apocalypse of 2 Baruch also predicts a
messianic age, when the earth shall yield its fruit ten thousand-fold
(29:3). Then, when this age has run its course, the messiah will return
in glory (to heaven), and then all who have died and set their hopes
on him will rise again. Then the treasuries where the souls are pre-
served will be opened, the righteous will rejoice, and the wicked will
be discomfited (2 Bar. 30). Later, Baruch asks the Lord, “in what
 the afterlife in apocalyptic literature 131

form will those live who live in thy day, and what will they look like
afterwards?” (2 Bar. 49:2). He is told: “the earth will certainly then
restore the dead it now receives so as to preserve them: it will make
no change in their form, but as it has received them, so it will restore
them, and as I delivered them to it, so also will it raise them. For
those who are still alive must be shown that the dead have come to
life again, and that those who had departed have returned” (2 Bar.
50:2-3). After the judgment, however, appearances will be changed.
“The appearance of the evil-doers will go from bad to worse, as they
suffer torment” (51:2), but the righteous “will assume a luminous
beauty so that they may be able to attain and enter the world which
does not die, which has been promised to them” (51:3). “Time will
no longer age them, for in the heights of the world shall they dwell,
and they shall be made like the angels and be made equal to the
stars” (51:10). The extent of paradise will be spread before them, and
in fact they will exceed even the splendor of the angels (51:12)
These apocalypses stand in the tradition of Daniel, insofar as there
is a general resurrection at the end of history, and the righteous are
eventually transformed to shine like the stars. Unlike the Enoch tra-
dition, they pay little attention to the torment of the damned and the
fires of Hell. But they have given thought to some of the problems
involved in resurrection. At this point, what is envisioned is a bodily
resurrection, to facilitate recognition of the dead. Ultimately, how-
ever, the emphasis is on transformation, as the body is then made
luminous in an angelic state.

Apocalyptic writings from the diaspora

A different view of the afterlife can be found in the sub-genre of

apocalypses that takes the form of ascent of the visionary through the
heavens.25 This kind of apocalypse was pioneered in the Book of the
Watchers, but there Enoch did not ascend through multiple heavens,
but, rather, traveled outward to the ends of the earth. The first case
of an ascent through multiple heavens is found in the Aramaic Levi

25
M. Himmelfarb, Ascent to Heaven in Jewish and Christian Apocalypses (New York,
1993); A. Yarbro Collins, “The Seven Heavens in Jewish and Christian
Apocalypses,” in eadem, Cosmology and Eschatology in Jewish and Christian Apocalypticism
(Leiden, 1996), pp. 21-54.
132 john j. collins

document from Qumran (4Q213a).26 In the later, Greek, Testament

of Levi, in the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, this ascent is
stylized. In one recension, Levi ascends through three heavens, in
another through seven. Even the longer Greek recension, however,
makes no mention of the abodes of the dead in any of the heavens.
In contrast, we find considerable attention to the dead in the as-
cent apocalypses of 2 Enoch and 3 Baruch. 2 Enoch is preserved only
in Slavonic and is notoriously difficult to date.27 Most scholars opt for
a date no later than the first century C.E. because of the importance
attached to animal sacrifice. It is located in Egypt, on the basis of
allusions to Egyptian mythology and some affinities with Philo and
other diaspora writings. 28 Nonetheless, the provenance of this apoca-
lypse is far from certain. The situation is further complicated by the
existence of two recensions, one of which is much longer than the
other.
Two kinds of material, cosmological and eschatological, are em-
phasized in the account of Enoch’s ascent. The descriptions of the
first, fourth, and sixth heavens are concerned with the regulation of
the heavenly bodies and the order of the universe. The second, third,
and fifth heavens are the scenes of eschatological rewards and pun-
ishments. The second heaven contains the prison of the rebellious
angels, who are tormented unceasingly. The third is the location of
Paradise. The tree of life is there, and the Lord takes a rest under it
whenever he walks in Paradise. Enoch is told by his angelic guide,
Uriel, that this place has been prepared for the righteous. In the
north of the third heaven, however, is “a very frightful place, and all
kinds of torture and torment are in that place, cruel darkness and
lightless gloom. And there is no light there, and a black fire blazes up
perpetually, with a river of fire that comes out over the whole
place...and very cruel places of detention and dark and merciless
angels, carrying instruments of atrocities, torturing without pity” (2
Enoch 10:2-3). This place has been prepared for the punishment of
sinners. In the sixth heaven, Enoch encounters the Grigori, or
Watchers, who are distinguished from the rebel angels of the second

26
M.E. Stone and J.C. Greenfield, “Aramaic Levi Document,” in G. Brooke, et
al., eds., Qumran Cave IV-XVII (DJD XXII; Oxford, 1996), pp. 30-31.
27
F. Andersen, “2 Enoch,” in J.H. Charlesworth, ed., The Old Testament Pseud-
epigrapha (New York, 1983), vol. 1, pp. 91-221.
28
C. Böttrich, Weltweisheit, Menscheitsethik, Urkult: Studien zum slavischen Henochbuch
(Tübingen, 1992), p. 192.
 the afterlife in apocalyptic literature 133

heaven. They are dejected, but not in torment, and at Enoch’s ex-
hortation they perform a liturgy of praise to God.
Two features of this heavenly eschatology are noteworthy. First,
Paradise is not located in the highest heaven, in the presence of the
Lord. We have noted that one recension of Aramaic Levi has only
three heavens, and this was the most conventional number of heav-
ens in traditional Babylonian cosmology.29 The Hebrew Bible often
refers to the “heaven, and the heaven of heavens,” which could also
be interpreted as three heavens. It would seem that the third heaven
was at one time the highest, and this would account for the location
there of Paradise. When Paul claims to “know a person in Christ
who...was caught up to the third heaven—whether in the body or out
of the body I do not know; God knows” and that he was also “caught
up into Paradise” (2 Cor. 12:2-4), he is not referring to two different
raptures; Paradise was located in the third heaven.
More surprising than the location of Paradise is the location of
Hell. Three of the seven heavens contain places of punishment, and
the place of human sinners is located like Paradise in the third
heaven. In earlier Jewish, and general Near Eastern tradition, the
abode of the dead who were not beatified was always in the Nether-
world. Hellenistic cosmology, however, had no place for a Nether-
world, and so philosophical authors increasingly located Hades in the
heavens.30 2 Enoch represents a Jewish adaptation of the new cos-
mology, in which all the dead ascend to the heavens, regardless of
their destiny.
One other feature of 2 Enoch is significant for the understanding
of the afterlife. When Enoch reaches the seventh heaven, he is trans-
formed at the command of God: “Michael extracted me from my
clothes. He anointed me with the delightful oil, and the appearance
of that oil is greater than the greatest light, its ointment is like sweet
dew, and its fragrance like myrrh; and its shining is like the sun. And
I gazed at all of myself, and I had become like one of the glorious
ones, and there was no observable difference” (2 Enoch 22:9-10). It is
not apparent in 2 Enoch that all the righteous are so transformed,

29
Yarbro Collins, “The Seven Heavens,” pp. 27-28. Seven heavens are also at-
tested as early as the second millennium B.C.E.
30
M.P. Nilsson, Geschichte der griechischen Religion (3rd ed.; Munich, 1974), pp. 240-
241. The earliest authority for the new location was Heracleides Ponticus, a pupil of
Plato.
134 john j. collins

but the episode recalls the account of the resurrection in Dan. 12,
where the wise are said to shine like the stars.31
Like 2 Enoch, 3 Baruch is generally believed to come from Egyp-
tian Judaism, because of affinities with other Egyptian Jewish writ-
ings. The apocalypse begins with Baruch’s lamenting the fall of Jeru-
salem, a setting that suggests the book was written in the years after
70 C.E. Unlike 2 Enoch, 3 Baruch has undergone a clear Christian
redaction, but the core of the book is recognized as Jewish. It is
preserved in Greek and also in Slavonic.32
The extant text of 3 Baruch mentions only five heavens. Whether
this number is original, or is an abbreviation of a seven-heaven
schema, is disputed. It has been argued that the author was familiar
with the seven-heaven cosmology, but that Baruch’s ascent is aborted
to make the point that humans cannot attain full unmediated access
to the divine.33 Unlike Enoch, Baruch is not transformed to angelic
status.
The first two heavens are occupied respectively by those who built
the tower of Babel and those who gave counsel to build the tower.
They now have hybrid animal forms (faces of oxen, horns of stags,
etc.) but are not otherwise in torment. The third heaven contains
complex cosmological mysteries. The abode of righteous souls is ap-
parently in the fourth heaven,34 where they appear as a multitude of
birds, singing the praises of the Lord. The gate to the fifth heaven is
closed until Michael opens it to receive the prayers of humanity. He
takes human merits up to God in a higher heaven and returns with
rewards for the righteous and a stern insistence that those without
merits have only themselves to blame. There is no vision of Hell, but
in 4:16 the angel warns that sinners “will secure for themselves eter-
nal fire.” This passage, however, may be part of the Christian
redaction of the book.
The transfer of Hell to the heavens was not universally followed.
The Apocalypse of Zephaniah, which is preserved in a single
Akhmimic manuscript from the fourth or fifth century C.E., seems to

31
See further Himmelfarb, Ascent to Heaven, pp. 47-71.
32
D.C. Harlow, The Greek Apocalypse of Baruch (3 Baruch) in Hellenistic Judaism and
Early Christianity (Leiden, 1996).
33
Ibid., pp. 34-76.
34
3 Bar. 10. The Greek text reads “third heaven,” but this is evidently a mistake
or scribal alteration, since Baruch proceeds from there to the fifth heaven.
 the afterlife in apocalyptic literature 135

be a Jewish Egyptian work of much earlier date.35 It describes a tour

of the abodes of the dead by Zephaniah. First he is taken to the
abode of the righteous, which is full of light: “for where the righteous
and saints are there is no darkness, but they are always in the light”
(1:5). He also sees the punishment of the wicked and a host of punish-
ing angels. Then he follows his guide through metal gates into a
beautiful city. But the gates begin to breathe out fire, and he sees a
sea of fire coming against him. Then he encounters a great angel,
whom he mistakes for the Lord Almighty. He is told: “I am the great
angel Eremiel, whose place is in the world below, and I have been
appointed over the abyss and hell, in which all souls have been
imprisoned from the end of the flood, which was upon the earth,
until to-day” (2:12).36 He informs Zephaniah that he is now in Hell
and identifies the accuser, who has a catalogue of everyone’s sins.
Because of his righteousness, however, Zephaniah is allowed to come
up from Hell and to cross at the ferry place to the land of the living.
In some respects, the picture of the Netherworld given here is quite
primitive. It parallels the Book of the Watchers, insofar as the spirits
of the dead are held in waiting for the judgment day, and the right-
eous are in a place of light.37 But the fiery picture of Hell is developed
beyond what we find in 1 Enoch. The uncertainty about the prov-
enance of this apocalypse unfortunately undercuts its value for trac-
ing the development of beliefs about the afterlife.
The apocalypses we have reviewed from the diaspora, originally
written in Greek, show no interest in a general resurrection at the
end of history but focus on the fate of the spirit or soul after death.
There was a tradition of historical eschatology in the diaspora, which
finds expression in the Sibylline Oracles. These typically review the
rise and fall of kingdoms and culminate either with a glorious king-
dom or with cosmic destruction. The main Sibylline books that can
be ascribed to Egyptian Judaism, books 3 and 5, are remarkably void

35
M. Himmelfarb, Tours of Hell. An Apocalyptic Form in Jewish and Christian Literature
(Philadelphia, 1983), pp. 13-14. There are two fragments, of which only the shorter
mentions Zephaniah. The identification of the longer fragment, which is cited here,
seems probable but is not certain. See K.H. Kuhn, “The Apocalypse of Zephaniah
and an Anonymous Apocalypse,” in H.F.D. Sparks, The Apocryphal Old Testament
(Oxford, 1984), pp. 915-925.
36
An angel named Jeremiel converses with Ezra about the chambers of the dead
in 4 Ezra 4:36.
37
Himmelfarb, Tours of Hell, pp. 151-153.
136 john j. collins

of interest in resurrection or afterlife. The fourth book has a different

character, and probably comes from a different location (perhaps
Syria) in the late first century C.E. Here history ends with a confla-
gration, but after God extinguishes the fire he “will again fashion the
bones and ashes of men, and he will raise up mortals again as they
were before” (Sib. Or. 4:179-82). Sinners are banished to Gehenna,
but the righteous will live on earth again and enjoy the light of the
sun. The physical, earthly character of the resurrection here is re-
markable in a text from the diaspora written in Greek but goes to
show that Hellenistic culture did not always give rise to a belief in
immortality of the soul, any more than Semitic culture necessarily
gave rise to belief in resurrection of the body.
One final text from the diaspora requires mention here although
its apocalyptic character is questionable. The Testament of Abra-
ham, written in Egypt in the late first or early second century C.E., is
primarily a narrative about the death of Abraham.38 (He conspicu-
ously fails to make a testament). When it was time for Abraham to
die, God dispatches the angel Michael to fetch him. But Michael can
not bring himself to break the news, and when Abraham finally
learns it, he is reluctant to go. So Abraham is given a tour of the
heavens and allowed to witness the judgment of the dead. There is
then an apocalyptic judgment scene of considerable interest embed-
ded in the narrative.39 Abel, son of Adam, presides over the judg-
ment, like a son of God. He is attended by recording angels and by
an angel who holds a balance. A fiery angel Purouel tests the work of
mortals through fire. Those whose works are burnt up are con-
demned to torment, while those whose works withstand it are saved.
Unlike the judgment in 4 Ezra, intercession is possible here. The
judgment scene in the Testament of Abraham is exceptional insofar
as it emphasizes the mercy of God and qualifies the strict dichotomy
of righteous and wicked that is characteristic of most apocalypses.

38
For the text, see E.P. Sanders, “The Testament of Abraham,” in J.H. Charles-
worth, ed., The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha (New York, 1983), vol. 1, pp. 882-902.
39
See G.W. Nickelsburg, “Eschatology in the Testament of Abraham. A Study of
the Judgement Scenes in the Two Recensions,” in idem, ed., Studies on the Testament of
Abraham (Missoula, 1976), pp. 23-64.
 the afterlife in apocalyptic literature 137

Conclusion

The earliest Jewish apocalypses, in the Books of Enoch and Daniel,

conceive of a resurrection of the dead at the end of history. While
there is some variation among the different texts, the righteous are
typically exalted to share the life of the angels, while the wicked are
condemned to a fiery Hell. (Daniel is less explicit than Enoch about
the punishment of the damned). These apocalypses envision a resur-
rection of the spirit or spiritual body, and its relation to the physical
body that died is not clarified.
The apocalyptic writings of the first and early second centuries
C.E. adapt this tradition in two quite different ways. 4 Ezra and 2
Baruch look for a general resurrection at the end of history. 2 Baruch
is especially clear on the form of the resurrection. Those who rise
must be recognizable as those who have died, but they are subse-
quently transformed by the glory or the torment that they attain. The
discussion in these apocalypses helps illuminate the background of
Paul’s discussion of the resurrection in 1 Cor. 15. Paul sees the resur-
rection of Christ as harbinger of the general resurrection, but he
insists that the body that is raised is not that which was buried but
rather a spiritual body. We also find a general resurrection, in explic-
itly physical terms, in Sibylline Oracles 4, which was written in Greek
in the Diaspora (probably in Syria).
The more typical form of apocalypse from the diaspora, however,
is the heavenly ascent. Here considerable attention is paid to the
reward and punishment of the dead, but there is no expectation of a
general resurrection. The focus on individual afterlife in these
apocalypses was compatible with the Greek belief in the immortality
of the soul, but it is expressed in mythological rather than philosophi-
cal idiom.
In most of the texts we have discussed, the belief in judgment after
death serves the purpose of theodicy by upholding the ultimate jus-
tice of God. It thereby provides hope to the oppressed and relieves
the resentment caused by injustice in this life. The judgment scene
could, however, be also used for other purposes, as we see in the
Testament of Abraham, which encourages compassion for human
sinners and insists on the mercy as well as the justice of God.
138 john j. collins

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Pseudepigrapha (New York, 1983), vol. 1, pp. 91-221.
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Henochbuch (Tübingen, 1992).
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pp. 39-83.
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pp. 915-925.
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 6. JUDGMENT, LIFE-AFTER-DEATH, AND
RESURRECTION IN THE APOCRYPHA AND THE NON-
APOCALYPTIC PSEUDEPIGRAPHA

George W.E. Nickelsburg

The University of Iowa

1. Context: God’s justice and judgment

1.1. God as judge

Jewish beliefs in a substantial life-after-death, as they develop in the
Persian, Hellenistic, and early Roman periods, are tied uniformly to
the biblical belief in the justice of the God of Israel and its enactment
in the lives of individuals and the historical existence of the nation.
Statements about God’s justice and judgment are articulated, espe-
cially, within the framework of God’s covenant with Israel. 1 This, in
turn, is most clearly explicated in Deuteronomy, especially chapters
28-31. God has called Israel into a unique relationship, laid out the
stipulations of the covenant in the form of Torah, and promised
blessing to those who obey and curses on those who disobey. Both
blessing and curses, which are epitomized as “life” and “death”
(Deut. 30:15), are enacted in this life and this world. Blessing com-
prises a long life, safety and prosperity, and fertility. The covenantal
curses involve infertility, suffering at the hands of a foreign invader,
captivity, sickness, and a premature death. The covenantal frame-
work, moreover, is presumed in the “lawsuits” that the prophets hurl
out against a disobedient Israel.2 The Deuteronomic formulation is
reiterated by the prophet Jeremiah and shapes the recitation of Isra-
elite history in “the Deuteronomic History” (Joshua, Judges, 1-2

1
On the literary form that embodies the structure of the covenant, see George E.
Mendenhall, Law and Covenant in Israel and the Ancient Near East (Pittsburgh, 1955) and
Klaus Baltzer, The Covenant Formulary (Philadelphia, 1972).
2
On the lawsuit and its expression in Deut. 32, see G. Ernest Wright, “The
Lawsuit of God: A Form-Critical Study of Deuteronomy 32,” in Bernhard W.
Anderson and Walter Harrelson, eds., Israel’s Prophetic Heritage (New York, 1962), pp.
26-67. For the form in the classical prophets, cf., Is. 1.
142 george w.e. nickelsburg

Samuel, 1-2 Kings) and its reworking in the Chronicler and Ezra-
Nehemiah.3 In the Hellenistic period, the Deuteronomic scheme of
sin-punishment-repentance-salvation regularly shapes accounts of Is-
raelite history, especially recent history.4
The Writings provide a second biblical locus for the discussion of
God’s judgment. In the Psalter, the psalms of individual lament and
individual thanksgiving focus on the problem of the suffering right-
eous one and the anticipated or accomplished alleviation of that
suffering.5 The faithful complain that their wicked enemies lord it
over them, but they believe that a just God will reverse their fortunes;
in time, they thank God for that deliverance. Notions of retribution
also appear in the wisdom tradition. Speaking in the idiom of the
“two-ways” tradition, the Psalm that heads the Psalter contrasts the
“way” of the righteous, who delights in the Torah and flourishes like
a living tree, with the “way” of the sinner, who perishes like dead
chaff. Psalm 119 is an extensive elaboration of the theme. Psalm 128
promise fertility to the family of those “who fear the Lord.” The
Book of Proverbs also sees happy or disastrous consequences follow-
ing from upright or sinful deeds. The correlation of action and con-
sequence, however, is not necessarily tied to notions of covenant and
Torah,6 although later tradition surely interpreted Proverbs’ “wis-
dom” and “uprightness” in the framework of the covenant (see below
2.2.2).

1.2. Exceptions and voices of protest

If the reign of divine justice and its Deuteronomic articulation are the
rule, the canon of the Hebrew Bible also allows exceptions to the

3
For a discussion of the relationships between Jeremiah and the Deuteronomic
tradition, see William L. Holladay, Jeremiah 2 (Minneapolis, 1989), pp. 53-64. On the
Deuteronomic tradition in Ezra-Nehemiah, see Rodney A. Werline, Penitential Prayer
in Second Temple Judaism: The Development of a Religious Institution (Atlanta, 1998).
4
For examples of the use of the Deuteronomic scheme, cf., the Testament of
Moses and Jubilees 23:12-31 and the discussion of these texts in George W.E.
Nickelsburg, Jewish Literature Between the Bible and the Mishnah: A Historical and Literary
Introduction (Philadelphia, 1981), pp. 77-82.
5
For a brief discussion of some of these issues in the psalms of lament, see Patrick
D. Miller, Jr., Interpreting the Psalms (Philadelphia, 1986), pp. 48-63.
6
In part, the lack of clear references to the covenant in the Book of Proverbs is
due to the work’s dependence on non-Israelite wisdom traditions. On the interna-
tional character of wisdom, see R.B.Y. Scott, Proverbs - Ecclesiastes (Anchor Bible 18;
Garden City, 1965), pp. xi-lii.
 the apocrypha and the non-apocalyptic pseudepigrapha 143

rule, and voices of protest remind one that, in fact, “bad things
happen to good people.” In a text that will be foundational for later
tradition, the anonymous author of the last “Servant Song” (Is.
52:13-53:12) critiques the judgment that the Servant was stricken and
smitten by God, and concludes that through his suffering “he bore
our griefs and carried our sorrows...and gave his life as a ransom for
many.” Similarly, the poetic sections of Job stand in stark contrast
with the prose Deuteronomic story of the suffering and restored
righteous one that frames it. Although God finally silences Job, one
cannot miss the voice of one who protests the simplistic notions of
retribution expressed by his “friends.” The author of Ps. 73 is more
ambiguous, admitting that he had been troubled by the prosperity of
the wicked. Perhaps vv. 23-24 express an intimation of immortality;
they are later interpreted in this way (see below, n. 61). Chief among
the biblical voices of protest is the pseudo-Solomonic author of
Qohelet (Ecclesiastes), who proclaims, perhaps in the voice of Greek
cynicism,7 that there is no distinction; the fates of the righteous and
the wicked are the same, and, indeed, there may be an inverse corre-
lation between one’s deeds and one’s fate (1:3; 3:9; 7:15; 8:14).
In these voices of protest, which eloquently express the problem of
theodicy (Is God, in fact, just?), we find the seeds of a counter-protest.
When God’s judgment is not enacted in this life and this time, divine
justice will prevail in an existence after death, in a world or age to
come.

2. Divine justice and judgment according to the Apocrypha

2.1. The corpus

The “Apocrypha of the Old Testament” are an artificially con-
structed collection of Jewish writings that were composed during the
Hellenistic and early Roman periods. They are defined both by what
they are and what they are not. All of them were included in manu-
scripts of the Greek translation of “the Old Testament” but not in the
Hebrew canon established by the rabbis. In recognition of the latter
fact, the Christian church father, Jerome, gathered them in one place

7
See Martin Hengel, Judaism and Hellenism (Philadelphia, 1974), vol. 1, pp. 115-
130.
144 george w.e. nickelsburg

in his Latin translation of the Bible (the Vulgate).8 They are impor-
tant for our purposes here, because: a) they derive from the time
when Jewish beliefs in life-after-death are developing; b) they focus
on the issue of God’s justice and thus document the transition from
the traditional Deuteronomic view to innovative beliefs in a substan-
tial life-after death; and c) they indicate how these beliefs were seen
to derive from biblical texts.

2.2. Texts that express the traditional view

2.2.1. The Book of Tobit
This tale of the diaspora explicitly presents the problem of the right-
eous sufferer.9 Tobit, the protagonist, is a God-fearing Israelite, who,
alone among his compatriots in the northern kingdom, offers tithes
and makes pilgrimages to Jerusalem (1:1-8). His piety notwithstand-
ing, he is taken into captivity along with the rest of the Israelites.
Here he comes into favor with the king and rises to prominence in
the court (1:10-12). Now his piety is actually the cause of his suffering.
When he buries the corpses of his compatriots who have been ex-
ecuted by the king, he must flee for his life, and he loses his wealth
(1:16-20). Eventually, he is restored, but again his piety is his problem
and directly results in his blindness and further domestic misery (2:1-
14). After many more episodes, Tobit regains his sight and has his
wealth restored (chaps. 11-12).
Thus, the Deuteronomic viewpoint falls into place. As Tobit ar-
ticulates it to his son, in the sapiential idiom of the two-ways:10
Do righteousness all the days of your life,
and do not walk in the ways of injustice;
for those who do the truth
will prosper through their deeds....
8
On the Apocrypha as a collection and the complicated issues relating to their
authority or non-authority in the Roman Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant tradi-
tions, see the excellent introduction by Bruce M. Metzger in idem., ed., The Apocrypha
of the Old Testament: Revised Standard Version; The Oxford Annotated Apocrypha (New York,
1977), pp. xi-xx. It appears also in full editions of the Oxford Annotated Bible and the
New Oxford Annotated Bible.
9
See George W.E. Nickelsburg, “Stories of Biblical and Early Post-Biblical
Times,” in Michael E. Stone, ed., Jewish Writings of the Second Temple Period, Compendia
Rerum Iudaicarum ad Novum Testamentum 2:2 (Assen and Philadelphia, 1983), pp. 40-46;
or Nickelsburg, Jewish Literature, pp. 30-35.
10
Translations are based on the longer text form of the Greek Tobit (Sinaiticus
and Old Latin) emended with material from the shorter text form.
 the apocrypha and the non-apocalyptic pseudepigrapha 145

Do not turn your face away from any poor person,

and the face of God will not be turned away from you....
So you will be laying up good treasure for yourself against the day of
necessity;
for charity delivers from death
and keeps you from entering the darkness (4:5-6, 7, 9).
There is deep irony in these words, however; for Tobit utters them
precisely at the moment of his deepest despair, after he has prayed
for death as a release from the misery of his life. He hopes that things
will go better for his son. Set within the context of his account of his
own righteous life, the words of Tobit’s prayer are especially reveal-
ing for our topic:
And now deal with me according to your pleasure;
command my spirit to be taken may be taken up from me,
that I may be removed from the face of the earth and become dust...
Lord command that I be removed from this distress;
take me to the eternal place; do not turn your face from me (3:6).
Tobit’s reference to God taking his spirit, notwithstanding, he ex-
pects that his death will take him to Sheol, “the eternal place.” This
belief is also expressed in the prayer of Sarah, his troubled future
daughter-in-law, who also prays for death, but dismisses the idea of
suicide, because it would “bring down the old age of my father, with
grief, into Sheol” (3:10).
As a text from the third century B.C.E., when a belief in resurrec-
tion is already being articulated in 1 Enoch (a text with some rela-
tionship to Tobit), this book’s attitude about death is noteworthy.11
The disparity between his righteous life and his miserable fate does
not lead Tobit to posit a blessed afterlife as the solution to the prob-
lem. It is the restoration of his health that eventually provides the
resolution.12 The book is, in the final analysis, “the story of Job told
from the viewpoint of Job’s friends.” 13

11
On the date of Tobit, see Nickelsburg, “Stories,” p. 45. On the dating of the
various parts of 1 Enoch, see idem, Jewish Literature, p. 48. For a discussion of the
parallels between Tobit and 1 Enoch, see idem, “Tobit and Enoch: Distant Cousins
with a Recognizable Resemblance,” in David J. Lull, ed., Society of Biblical Literature
1988 Seminar Papers (Atlanta, 1988), pp. 54-68.
12
Contrast Tob. 3:10 and its language with 1 Enoch 102:4-103:4.
13
I owe the quip to Prof. John Strugnell. For the similarities between Job and
Tobit, see Devorah Dimant, “Use and Interpretation of Mikra in the Apocrypha and
Pseudepigrapha,” in Jan Mulder, ed., Mikra: Text, Translation, Reading and Interpretation
146 george w.e. nickelsburg

2.2.2. The Wisdom of Joshua b. Sira

In this collection of proverbs, written between 198 and 175 B.C.E.,
the Jerusalem scribe expounds his understanding of the relationship
between action and consequence.14 Different from the canonical
Book of Proverbs, wisdom is here explicitly identified as a heavenly
entity that has become resident in the Mosaic Torah and its exposi-
tion by the Temple scribes (chap. 24). Although ben Sira deals with
many practical, non-religious topics, he also instructs his audience
about righteous and sinful deeds and the divine rewards and punish-
ments that follow from them.15 This reward and punishment is
played out in this life. Sheol is the place of forgetfulness, the residence
of “the dead,” as opposed to “those who are alive” (17:27-28).

2.2.3. Baruch
This pseudonymous work, attributed to the scribe of Jeremiah, prob-
ably dates from the mid-second century B.C.E.16 Like the two previ-
ous texts, it focuses on the issue of divine retribution, and each of its
three major sections draws on an appropriate form of biblical tradi-
tion. In spite of its date, its allusions to the Antiochan persecution,
and its emphasis on divine judgment, it never indicates a belief in a
substantial life-after-death.17
Reflecting on the recent disasters in Jerusalem, Bar. 1:1-3:8 pre-
scribes two prayers of repentance, cast in the Deuteronomic tradition
and reminiscent of Dan. 9:4-19. They describe the Exile as punish-
ment for the nation’s violations of the Mosaic Torah (Bar. 1:20; 2:2,
28) and envision restoration as the consequence of repentance.18 Es-
pecially noteworthy for our purposes is 3:14, which describes Exile as
death: “O Lord Almighty, God of Israel, hear the prayer of the dead
of Israel and of the sons of those who sinned before you.” The idiom
recalls Ezek. 37, where death and resurrection are a metaphor for

of the Hebrew Bible in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity (Assen and Philadelphia,
1988), pp. 417-419.
14
On the form, content and date of Sirach, see Nickelsburg, Jewish Literature, pp.
55-65.
15
See, e.g., 3:1-16; 5:1-7; 29:11-13.
16
On the date of Baruch, see Nickelsburg, Jewish Literature, pp. 113-114.
17
For a discussion of Jewish apocalyptic texts that posit a form of life-after-death
as a response to the persecution by Antiochus, see George W.E. Nickelsburg, Resur-
rection, Immortality, and Eternal Life in Intertestamental Judaism (Cambridge, 1972), pp. 11-
45, 76-79.
18
On this prayer and Dan. 9, see Werline, Penitential Prayer, pp. 65-108.
 the apocrypha and the non-apocalyptic pseudepigrapha 147

exile and restoration. The text then takes up the idiom of both the
sapiential tradition and Deuteronomy (3:9-4:4). Israel is defiled with
the dead and counted among those in Sheol, because they have
forsaken the fountain of wisdom. The solution to the nation’s death
in exile is for them to “hear the commandments of life” and “walk in
the way of God” (3:9-13). An extensive exposition on the problem of
finding wisdom (3:13-35) concludes with language akin to Sir. 24:8-
11, 23. Wisdom appeared on earth and lived among humanity (Bar.
3:36-37).
She is the book of the commandments of God,
and the law that endures forever.
All who hold fast to her will live,
and those who forsake her will die (Bar. 4:1).
The third section of Baruch provides a transition from the language
of Deuteronomy (Bar. 4:4-8; cf., Deut. 33:29; 32:16-18) to the idiom
of Third Isaiah (Bar. 4:5, 8-5:9), where exile and return are depicted
as the departure and return of the children of Mother Zion.19 If Israel
repents, blessing will be restored, and they will return to their home.
As we shall see below, 2 Macc. 7 uses this same tradition to describe
the death and resurrection of the mother’s seven sons. In Baruch, the
metaphor complements Bar. 3:4-11, where death and new life are a
metaphor for exile and return. In 2 Macc. 7, language about exile
and return become a metaphor for death and resurrection.

2.2.4 1 Maccabees
This Hasmonean court history, composed between 100 and 63
B.C.E., provides a foil for our comments on the resurrection texts in
2 Maccabees.20 Like other texts concerned with the persecution by
Antiochus Epiphanes, 1 Maccabees understands that persecution of
faithful Jews as the result of the sins of the nation in general (1:11-64).
Different from apocalyptic texts dealing with this period, 1 Mac-
cabees does not posit life-after-death as a means of dealing with the
unjust deaths of the righteous.21 Similarly, the deaths of Judas and his
brothers receive no post-mortem vindication. The patriarch Matta-

19
For details, see Nickelsburg, Resurrection, pp. 106-107; idem, Jewish Literature, pp.
11-13.
20
On the date of 1 and 2 Maccabees, see Jonathan A. Goldstein, 1 Maccabees
(Anchor Bible 41; Garden City, 1976), pp. 62-89.
21
See above, n. 17.
148 george w.e. nickelsburg

thias simply asserts that, like Abraham, Joseph, Phineas, Hananiah,

Mishael, Azariah, and Daniel, they will be rewarded for their deeds,
and Antiochus the sinner will be punished by death (2:51-66).

2.3. Texts that posit post-mortem divine judgment

2.3.1. 2 Maccabees
Second Maccabees was composed at roughly the same time as 1
Maccabees and deals with the events of the Antiochan persecution,
focusing on the execution of divine retribution. 22 Its treatment of its
subject matter differs strikingly from that of 1 Maccabees. To begin
with, the Deuteronomic scheme governs its historical account of the
prosperity, destruction, and restoration of the Temple. 23

Prosperity: Jerusalem during the pious reign of Onias 3:1-40

Sin: Hellenization under Jason and Menelaus 4:1-5:10
Punishment: Antiochus’s reprisals 5:11-6:17
Repentance: Deaths of martyrs and prayers of people 6:18-8:4
Judgment and salvation: Victories of Judas Maccabeus 8:5-15:36

True to its biblical origins, the Deuteronomic scheme is played out in

the arena of history. Punishment for sin involves both the destructive
power of a foreign army and the death of the people. Blessing returns
with the Maccabean overpowering of the army and the purification
of the Temple. A reference to the Deuteronomic provenance of this
scheme appears in 2 Macc. 7:6. The seven brothers and their mother
appeal to Deut. 32:36 as the guarantee that God will stem the blood-
shed: “The Lord is watching over us and in truth has compassion on
us, as Moses declared in his song which bore witness against the
people to their faces, when he said, ‘And he will have compassion on
his servants.’”
The accounts of the deaths of the martyrs (6:18-7:42), however,
present a paradox with reference to the Deuteronomic scheme. The
nation as a whole is being justly punished for its sins. Nonetheless,
the author focuses here on certain righteous individuals, who are
being put to death precisely because they choose to obey the Torah
rather than the king’s edicts. The problem is clear when we compare

22
See above, n. 20.
23
On this scheme in 2 Maccabees, see Nickelsburg, Jewish Literature, p. 118.
 the apocrypha and the non-apocalyptic pseudepigrapha 149

the speeches of the first four brothers and their mother with the
speeches of the sixth and, in part, the seventh brother (7:7-17, 33b-36
and 7:18-33a, 37-38.) In the latter two speeches, the brothers, in
solidarity with the nation, acknowledge that “we” deserve the suffer-
ing we are enduring. For the rest, the brothers and their mother
protest their own innocence and emphasize that they are suffering for
the Torah (7:9, 11, 14, 23).
At this point, a different correlation of action and consequence
enters the picture, in two respects. First, God will vindicate the faith-
fulness of the martyrs by restoring the bodies that have been tortured
and destroyed on account of their faithful adherence to the Torah
(7:9, 10-11, 14, 23, 29). Secondly, the corollary of this is that the
wicked Antiochus, who is unjustly persecuting the righteous, will re-
ceive divine retribution, both in his own violent death and after
death, either through actual post-mortem punishment or by not be-
ing raised from the dead (7:14, 17, 19, 35-37; cf., 9:1-12).
Resurrection, then, vindicates the conduct of the righteous, that is,
certifies it to have been right in spite of the fact that the king has
declared it to be wrong and, indeed, illegal. At stake is a contest
between two authorities. In obeying the Torah, the law of the cov-
enant, the brothers and their mother disobey the law of the king, and
for this they are punished. In the supreme court of “the king of the
universe” (7:9), however, their conduct is declared right, and the
earthly king is convicted for violating heavenly Majesty and is sen-
tenced to eternal punishment. Vindication is quid pro quo. Because
they lost their physical limbs, theirs must be a bodily resurrection;
what has been destroyed must be restored (7:10-11). Whether a fu-
ture resurrection of the body is the full answer, however, is uncertain.
Verse 36 may indicate that the dead brothers are already participat-
ing in eternal life.24
A close reading of 2 Macc. 7 enables us to discern the biblical
sources from which the author of this story draws his views of resur-
rection.25 They are, principally, Second Isaiah’s prophecies about
exile and return. First, the mother’s second speech recalls the proph-

24
Some exegetes have emended the Greek verb pept¿kasi (“have fallen”) to pep¿kasi
(“have drunk”) in keeping with the unusual expression aenaou z¿ðs (“everflowing life”);
see F.-M. Abel, Les Livres des Maccabées (Études Bibliques; Paris, 1949), p. 380. For the
image of the everflowing stream, cf., 1 Enoch 22:1, 9; 48:1; Luke 16:24). In support
of the verb “have fallen,” however, see Goldstein, 1 Maccabees, pp. 316-317.
25
For details, see Nickelsburg, Resurrection, pp. 102-108.
150 george w.e. nickelsburg

et’s oracles about the departure and return of the children of mother
Zion (vv. 27-29). This language, which Baruch rightly interpreted
with reference to exile and return, is here given a new meaning with
reference to resurrection. Secondly, language from both the first and
second speeches recalls Second Isaiah’s imagery about God as the
Creator and Redeemer of Israel (7:22-23, 27-28). Thirdly, in its em-
phasis on suffering and vindication, the story draws on the last Serv-
ant Song. There the kings and the nations misunderstand the fate of
the Servant, only to see him exalted and shown not to have been
punished by God. Here the king actually inflicts the suffering, but
later the brothers’ conduct will be shown to have been right. In
addition, the last brother’s association of their death with the immi-
nent cessation of Antiochus’s persecution (vv. 37-38) may well be
informed by Is. 53:10-12.26 Finally, in addition to the Isaianic
sources, the story appear to allude to the Song of Hannah, which
refers to “the barren one” who bears seven and the God who takes
down to Sheol and brings back up again (2 Macc. 7:1, 22; cf., 1 Sam.
2:5-6). The similarity is made explicit in later forms of the tradition.27
Our analysis of 2 Macc. 7 indicates the following. God’s judgment
is enacted both in history, as interpreted by the Deuteronomic
scheme, and in spite of its failure to be enacted in history. In the
latter instance, resurrection facilitates God’s judgment, and this asser-
tion is explicated through biblical traditions that originally depicted
God’s judgment in history, through exile and return. More complex
is 2 Maccabees’ use of the last Servant Song. That Isaianic text both
describes exile and return and protests against the simplistic applica-
tion of the Deuteronomic view. For 2 Maccabees it offers a paradigm
for vindication after unjust death.
One final observation. Although 2 Maccabees’ teaching about a
bodily resurrection is often seen as Hebraic rather than Greek in its
orientation, it is presented in a book that imitates so-called “pathetic”
Hellenistic historiography.28
26
The use of the Servant songs in the story (ibid., pp. 103-106) and the placement
of this story at the turning point in the Deuteronomic scheme lead me to interpret
the preposition en in 7:38 instrumentally (“through” us) rather than temporally
(“with” us) as does Sam K. Williams, Jesus’ Death as Saving Event (Missoula, 1975), pp.
87-89. The parallels between this story the story of the death of Taxo and his sons in
Testament of Moses 9 (Nickelsburg, Resurrection, pp. 97-102) support the crucial im-
portance of this event.
27
Ibid., p. 108, n. 71.
28
Goldstein, 1 Maccabees, p. 34 and n. 70.
 the apocrypha and the non-apocalyptic pseudepigrapha 151

2.3.2. 4 Maccabees
Although 4 Maccabees is not technically a part of “the Apocrypha,”
it is found in many manuscripts of the Greek Old Testament and is
included in many modern translations of the Bible.29 In this study, it
provides an instructive point of comparison and contrast with 2
Maccabees’ treatment of the stories of the Maccabean martyrs.
Composed sometime in the second half of the first century or the
early second century C.E., this text a reworking of 2 Macc. 3-7, and
especially chapters 6-7. 30 Its revision of 2 Maccabees is driven, prima-
rily, by the author’s desire to present the story in the form of a
Hellenistic philosophical treatise that demonstrates that devout rea-
son (eusebðs logismos) is sovereign over the emotions and physical senses
(1:1). In keeping with his Hellenistic orientation, he employs Greek
ideas about the effectiveness of virtuous deaths in order to enhance 2
Maccabees’ allusion to the martyrs’ suffering as a means to catalyze
salvation,31 and he depicts the martyrs as athletes of virtue who strive
to win the prize that rewards their conduct (17:11-15).
Integral to this Hellenistic enhancement of the story of the martyrs
is its uniform transformation of bodily resurrection into immortal-
ity.32 Thus, God’s activity as Creator is appealed to not as a guaran-
tee for new creation through bodily resurrection but a rationale for
the martyrs’ willingness to offer their bodies in obedience to the
Torah (16:18-19). Similarly, whereas 2 Maccabees may allude to the
martyrs’ participation in eternal life immediately after their death,
this author explicitly states that their violent death transforms them into
incorruptibility and transports them into the presence of the patri-
archs.33 In addition to the use of the Greek terms for “immortal(ity)”
and “incorruptibility” (athanatos / athanasia, aphtharsia), which have no
real counterparts in Hebraic usage, the author speaks of “eternal life”
and “living to God,” terminology that is compatible with develop-

29
Although 4 Maccabees is not considered deuterocanonical by the Roman
Catholic Church, it is included as an appendix in the Bibles of the Eastern Orthodox
Churches.
30
For literature on the relationship of 2 Maccabees and 4 Maccabees, see
Nickelsburg, Resurrection, p. 109, n. 72.
31
See Williams, Saving Death, pp. 165-197. This link with the Greek tradition does
not, however, preclude the possibility that this author, and New Testament writers
who pick up on these ideas, saw a connection with Is. 53. On the problem, see ibid.,
pp. 221-229.
32
See 7:3; 9:22; 14:5-6; 16:13; 17:12.
33
See 9:22; 10:21; 13:17; 16:13, 25; 17:18.
152 george w.e. nickelsburg

ments in the sapiential two-ways tradition.34 Thus, although like 2

Maccabees this is a story about the vindication of the martyrs who
suffer for the Torah, it often describes their blessed state in the after-
life as a reward for righteous conduct in this life.
Although the transformation of bodily resurrection to immortality
of the soul in this text is integral to the author’s thorough Helleniza-
tion of the material in 2 Maccabees, 4 Maccabees remains a Jewish
text. Judaism is the true philosophy, and right reason is informed by
the true wisdom to be found in the commandments of the Torah
(1:17). Similarly, as in 2 Maccabees, a blessed afterlife, immortality
and eternal life, as well as the punishment of Antiochus, are functions
of God’s judgment based on one’s respect for the Torah.35 This post-
mortem judgment, we should note finally, does not exclude the au-
thor’s recounting the story of the Antiochan persecution within the
framework of the Deuteronomic historical scheme which he found in
2 Maccabees. Piety brings blessing, and sin leads to punishment
(chap. 4). The death of the martyrs is a historical event that expiates
Israel’s sin and purifies the land (17:20-22).

2.3.3. The Wisdom of Solomon

The Wisdom of Solomon also exemplifies the Hellenization of Jewish
belief in life-after-death. Composed in Alexandria during the decades
before or after the turn of the era, it weds Jewish apocalyptic tradi-
tion about judgment and heavenly exaltation with Greek philosophy
and literary and rhetorical forms.36
This fusion of traditions is the subject of the first section of the
book, which focuses on eschatology and the relationship between
human deeds and their eternal consequences (1:1-6:11). Sin brings on
death, and righteousness leads to immortality (1:1-15). Death is not
34
For eternal life, see 15:3. For “live to God” (7:19; 16:25) in conjunction with
two-ways traditions, see Nickelsburg, Resurrection, p. 160.
35
On God’s punishment of Antiochus, see 9:9; 12:18; 13:15; 18:5.
36
On the Hellenistic character of Wisdom of Solomon, see M. Gilbert, “Wisdom
Literature,” in Michael E. Stone, ed., Jewish Writings, pp. 306-308; David Winston,
Wisdom of Solomon (Garden City, 1979), pp. 25-58; Burton L. Mack and Roland E.
Murphy, “Wisdom Literature,” in Robert A. Kraft and George W.E. Nickelsburg,
eds., Early Judaism and Its Modern Interpreters (Philadelphia and Atlanta, 1986), pp. 381-
383. On the relationship between Wisdom of Solomon and Jewish apocalyptic writ-
ings, see John J. Collins, “Cosmos and Salvation: Jewish Wisdom and Apocalyptic in
the Hellenistic Age,” in History of Religions 17, 1977, pp. 121-142. The present treat-
ment summarizes more extensive discussions in Nickelsburg, Resurrection, pp. 58-70,
87-90; and idem, Jewish Literature, pp. 175-185.
 the apocrypha and the non-apocalyptic pseudepigrapha 153

the termination of biological life, nor is immortality awaited beyond

the grave. Death and immortality are states in which the ungodly
and the righteous participate here and now and which continue un-
broken in spite of biological death.
As the primary vehicle of his thesis that God rewards righteousness
and punishes sin, the author narrates a two-part story (1:16-2:20;
4:16-5:13), which is presented primarily in a pair of matched
speeches (2:1-20; 5:4-13). In the first speech the ungodly make a
series of assertions; in the second they retract some of the assertions,
while they recognize that others have come true. The ungodly claim
that death means extinction (2:1-5), and therefore one should enjoy
this life (2:6-11), even when it means persecuting and oppressing
others (2:10-20). The idiom of this speech is the more remarkable
because it carries to its logical conclusion—the author would say—
the materialistic viewpoint expressed in Ecclesiastes. If there is no
reckoning in this life or after it, one should act in one’s own interest
without an concern for how this behavior affects others.37
In vv. 10-20, the author employs narrative elements from a type of
story that describes the persecution and exaltation of the righteous
one (cf., e.g., Dan. 3, 6).38 In Wisdom 2-5, the protagonist is an
unnamed righteous man who preaches against the sins of the un-
godly and legitimates his actions by claiming to be God’s son or
servant under special divine protection. The ungodly test his claims,
certain that God will not rescue him from death. Because their argu-
ment is based on the premise that death is extinction, they assume
that rescue and retribution must occur in this life. They are, of
course, wrong. The righteous only seem to die; in reality they pass to
the fullness of immortality, and their souls rest in peace in the hands
of God (3:1-9). After their own demise, the ungodly meet the right-
eous one whom they persecuted and mocked, exalted in the heavenly
court and confronting them as Judge. With their premises shattered,
they quake in fear, anticipating the dreadful consequences of their
false logic—the reality of the divine retribution they had previously
denied (4:16-5:2). In repentance, they utter a second speech that

37
For a similar polemic, see 1 Enoch 102:4-103:15, on which see Nickelsburg,
Resurrection, pp. 125-129. Interestingly, the pseudo-Solomonic author of Wisdom
takes on another pseudo-Solomon, the author of Ecclesiastes.
38
On the genre of the story, see Nickelsburg, Resurrection, pp. 48-62; and idem,
“The Genre and Function of the Markan Passion Narrative,” in Harvard Theological
Review 73, 1980, pp. 153-163.
154 george w.e. nickelsburg

retracts assertions confidently made in their first speech (5:2-14). In

their view the dishonorable “death” of the righteous one had dis-
proved his claim to be God’s son and under his protection. Now they
acknowledge that he stands among the angels, the sons of God, par
excellence. Moreover, they confess their sin and thus they vindicate
his indictment of them. In one way, however, they were right. They
face the extinction they anticipated. Because they summoned death
(1:16), it now claims them. Their nihilistic belief led to sinful actions,
and these are punished by the annihilation they had posited in the
first place. The righteous, however, will live forever (5:15-16), enjoy-
ing the gift of immortality in which they had believed.
The counterpoising of persecution and vindication is at the heart
of these chapters of the Wisdom of Solomon, as it is in 2 and 4
Maccabees. In heaven, God declares to have been right his servant’s
conduct, which his opponents dismissed as wrong and irrelevant, and
the servant enjoys a crown of life in place of suffering he had previ-
ously experienced. Furthermore, more explicitly than in 2 and 4
Maccabees, the polarity of suffering and persecution is anchored in
the use of a traditional apocalyptic exposition of Second Isaiah’s last
Servant Song.39 Here the Servant figure is identified with the wise
protagonists in the stories of persecution and vindication. However,
different from those stories, where the protagonist is rescued from
death (cf., Dan. 3 and 6), here the hero is delivered in spite of his
physical demise. This pattern of suffering, exaltation and vindication
will recur in New Testament stories about the passion and resurrec-
tion of Jesus of Nazareth.40
Their counterpoising of persecution and vindication notwithstand-
ing, chapters 1-6 of the Wisdom of Solomon generalize post-mortem
rewards and punishments to apply to all human beings, according to
whether they are righteous or sinners.
Finally, as we have already suggested, Jewish apocalyptic tradition
is here interpreted in the Greek language of immortality of the soul.
Rewards and punishments are received at the time of one’s physical
demise, and they relate to one’s “soul.” Different from Platonic
thought, however, the soul is not inherently immortal. Immortality is

39
For all of its dependence on the last Servant Song, Wisdom indicates no notion
of vicarious suffering (cf., 3:6 with Is. 53:10); it is, rather, a story of persecution and
exaltation.
40
Nickelsburg, “Genre.”
 the apocrypha and the non-apocalyptic pseudepigrapha 155

the reward of right conduct, just as eternal extinction is the conse-

quence of wickedness.41

3. Divine justice and judgment in the non-apocalyptic Pseudepigrapha

3.1. The corpus

In the remainder of this essay we treat some of the texts that are
comprised in the category “Pseudepigrapha,” that is, writings com-
posed under a spurious name.42 Some of the writings we discuss are
clearly of Jewish origin. Others, some have argued, may have been
composed by Christians, albeit on the basis of Jewish traditions.

3.2. Texts whose Jewish provenance is not disputed

3.2.1. Pseudo-Phocylides
This Greek poem of moral exhortation is one of a few works com-
posed by Jews in the name of a real or fictional Gentile figure.43 It
appears to have been written in Alexandria around the turn of the
era.44 Its Hellenistic coloring is the more remarkable, because it jux-
taposes belief in an immortal soul with the expectation of a resurrec-
tion of the body (lines 103-115). Just as noteworthy, in light of the
texts we have been discussing, is the almost complete absence of any
reference to God’s judgment in a work devoted to moral exhorta-
tions.45

3.2.2. The Psalms of Solomon

The nexus between one’s deeds and God’s judgment is an issue in the
Psalms of Solomon; perhaps it is the principal issue. Moreover, the

41
On immortality of the soul in Wisdom of Solomon, see Winston, Wisdom, pp.
25-32.
42
To fit the division of labor in this volume, I refer here separately to “the
Pseudepigrapha.” The artificiality of the category, however, is evident in the fact that
among the Apocrypha that I have treated, Tobit, Baruch, and the Wisdom of Solo-
mon are all pseudepigraphic texts.
43
On the pseudonym, see Pieter W. Van der Horst, The Sentences of Pseudo-
Phocylides (Leiden, 1978), pp. 59-63. For other examples of gentile attribution in the
Jewish corpus, see the Letter of Aristeas and the Sibylline Oracles.
44
Ibid., pp. 81-83.
45
For a single reference to God’s judgment, cf., line 11.
156 george w.e. nickelsburg

repeated references to God’s “righteous judgment” and to God as the

“righteous judge” suggest that this judgment is emphasized in re-
sponse to a perception that the nation, in particular, is suffering
unjustly, due to the Roman annexation of the Judea.46 Psalms 1-2, 8,
and 17 employ the Deuteronomic scheme to argue that these events
are divine punishment.47 Covenant has been violated, and God has
sent a foreign conqueror to execute the curses of covenant. In keep-
ing with Deuteronomy, this divine punishment is enacted in history.
The Psalms portray another aspect God’s judgment, which is fo-
cused on the relationship between the deeds of an individual and
their consequences. In this case, judgment is enacted principally—
though not exclusively—in terms of resurrection and eternal life or
eternal destruction (Psalms 3, 13, 14, 15). 48 Israelites are divided into
two groups: the “righteous” (dikaioi) or “pious” (hosioi) and the “sin-
ners” (hamaroloi). God deals with each in a different way. The former,
who heed God’s commandments and make atonement for uninten-
tional sins, may be chastised sometimes to bring them to their
senses.49 In the end, however, God will raise them up and grant them
eternal life. The sinners, who despise or ignore their covenantal re-
sponsibilities, God allows to go their own way, eventually to eternal
perdition.50
These texts construe God’s judgment broadly. It functions to dis-
tribute rewards and punishments and not, more narrowly, to com-
pensate for persecution or an inappropriate lot in life. Different from
apocalyptic texts, the Psalms of Solomon show no interest in the
“when” of the resurrection or in depicting the judgment in connec-
tion with a cosmic cataclysm. In addition, these authors do not in-
dicate whether they envision a bodily resurrection similar to that
posited in 2 Macc. 7. This need not surprise us, since the violent

46
On the date and provenance of the Psalms of Solomon, see Nickelsburg, Jewish
Literature, pp. 203-212.
47
On the Deuteronomic scheme in these psalms, see ibid., pp. 204-207.
48
On resurrection and eternal life in these psalms, see Nickelsburg, Resurrection.
pp. 131-134. For an example of this worldly judgment, in addition to Pss. Sol. 1-2, 8,
17, cf., Ps. Sol. 13.
49
For an exposition of the comparison of the righteous and the sinner in Ps. Sol
3, see George W.E. Nickelsburg and Michael E. Stone, Faith and Piety in Early Judaism:
A Reader of Texts and Documents (Philadelphia, 1983), pp. 140-142. On the contrast
between God’s chastisement of the righteous and punishment of the sinners, see Ps.
Sol. 13:7-12.
50
Pss. 3:9-12; 13:11; 14:6-9; 15:10-12.
 the apocrypha and the non-apocalyptic pseudepigrapha 157

destruction of bodily existence is not an issue here as it is in 2 Macc.

6-7.

3.2.3. The Book of Biblical Antiquities (“Pseudo-Philo”)

The “Book of Biblical Antiquities” is one of a group of three related
texts that are stamped by the trauma of the Jewish War and the
destruction of Jerusalem in 70 C.E.51 Different from the authors of 4
Ezra and 2 Baruch, however, this writer has not composed an apoca-
lypse, but rather a running paraphrase of the narrative parts of the
Bible from Genesis to 1 Samuel. The Deuteronomic scheme of sin-
punishment-repentance-restoration is focal and provides a model for
God’s present judgment of Israel in the historical events of the first
century.52 This historical perspective does not preclude an eschato-
logical dimension, even if this author does not dwell on the details, as
do his colleagues, “Ezra” and “Baruch.”53 When the present evil and
corrupt age comes to an end, the glorious age to come will be ush-
ered in by a universal resurrection of the dead and the judgment of
all human beings on the basis of their deeds (3:9-10). Subsequent to
this, the righteous will enjoy the blessing of immortality and the light
of God’s presence (19:12; 23:6), and the wicked will be destroyed in
the infernal fires (16:3; 63:4). In the time between death and the
resurrection, the souls of the righteous rest in the storehouses of the
earth (19:12; 23:13; 28:10).

3.3. Pseudepigrapha of questionable provenance

The remainder of our texts are of uncertain date and provenance.
However, their eschatology is sufficiently unique and interesting to
warrant inclusion here.
51
On Pseudo Philo, 2 Baruch, and 4 Ezra, see Nickelsburg, Jewish Literature, pp.
265- 294. On the problem of dating Pseudo-Philo, whether before or after the Jewish
War, see idem, “The Bible Rewritten and Expanded,” in Stone, ed., Jewish Writings,
pp. 109-110.
52
Pseudo-Philo’s use of the Deuteronomic scheme is especially evidence is its
emphasis on material drawn from the Book of Judges; see George W.E. Nickelsburg,
“Good and Bad Leaders in Pseudo-Philo’s Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum,” in John
J. Collins and George W.E. Nickelsburg, eds., Ideal Figures in Ancient Judaism: Profiles
and Paradigms (Missoula, 1981), pp. 49-65.
53
On the eschatology of Pseudo-Philo, see D.J. Harrington, “Pseudo-Philo,” in
James Charlesworth, ed., Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, vol. 2, p. 301. On the views of
resurrection, judgment, and the world to come in 2 Baruch and 4 Ezra, see the article
by John J. Collins in this volume and Nickelsburg, Resurrection, pp. 84-85, 138-140.
158 george w.e. nickelsburg

3.3.1. Testament of Job

Although the Testament of Job is known only from Christian manu-
scripts, an evident allusion to it in the Epistle of James (end of the first
century C.E.) suggests that it is Jewish text from around the turn of
the era.54 According to this version of the story, Job is king of Egypt.
His decision to devastate an idolatrous temple leads to a battle with
Satan, which results in the loss of his family, his health, and his
kingdom. As the plot unfolds, the author stands the canonical Book
of Job on its head. The angry impatient Job of the Bible, who wants
his day in court, is here epitome of “endurance” and “patience.”
Different from everyone else in the story, especially his friends, he
understands what is happening to him and why, and he has insight
into the heavenly mysteries. Principally, he understands that, despite
the loss of his kingdom, his obedience to God will be rewarded. He
has a glorious throne among “the holy ones” in the unchanging
realm of heaven (chap. 33). The language of this passage suggests
that this author is acquainted with the story of the suffering and
exalted righteous one in the Wisdom of Solomon (above 2.3.3).55 The
parallel is noteworthy, because both the poetic section of the canoni-
cal Job and Second Isaiah’s Servant Song protest against a simplistic
application of the Deuteronomic scheme of history (above 1.2). Also
like the Wisdom of Solomon, the Testament of Job speaks of immor-
tality as a present possession of the righteous. Through his knowledge
of the heavenly realia, Job transcends the present misery of his bodily
existence and participates in the eternal realm. Moreover, as his wife
finally sees, for the righteous, death is the transition to heavenly glory
(chaps. 39-40).
Like 4 Maccabees, the Testament of Job is a Hellenized text that
portrays the athlete of virtue, striving with great endurance to over-
come suffering and attain the immortal crown of glory. The para-
digm will inform such Christian writers as the authors of the Epistle
of James and the Epistle to the Hebrews.56

3.3.2. Joseph and Aseneth

The notion of a realized immortality is even more explicit in Joseph

54
On the date and provenance of the Testament of Job, see R.P. Spittler, “Tes-
tament of Job,” in Charlesworth, ed., Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, vol. 1, pp. 833-834.
For the reference to Job’s patience, see James 5:11.
55
Nickelsburg, Jewish Literature, pp. 269-270, n. 35.
56
On Hebrews, see ibid., p. 248.
 the apocrypha and the non-apocalyptic pseudepigrapha 159

and Aseneth, a text whose provenance and date continue to elude

scholarly consensus.57 The author sets out to explain how Joseph, an
Israelite, could marry the daughter of an Egyptian priest. After reject-
ing Joseph as a Canaanite who attempted to seduce his master’s wife,
Aseneth recognizes him to be a “son of God” (chaps. 4-6). After
discarding her idols and polluted food and donning sackcloth and
ashes, she is visited by the angel Michael (chaps. 10-17). In response
to her repentance, he tells her,
Your name is written in the book of life.... From today you will be made
new, and refashioned, and given new life’ and you shall eat the bread of
life and drink the cup of immortality, and be anointed with the unction
of incorruption (15:2-4).
As evidence of her inner transformation, her face shines in glory
(18:7).
Whatever its origin, this text shares important features with texts
as different from one another as the Wisdom Solomon and the
Qumran Hymn Scroll. Like the former, it employs the Hellenistic
language of immortality and perhaps some other narrative details.58
Like the latter, it describes conversion as a transition from death to
eternal life.59

3.3.3. Testament of Abraham

This Greek text, composed in the diaspora ca. 100 C.E.,60 provides
an interesting summary of the motifs and paradoxes of this study. It
describes a judgment scene, where one receives the due reward for
one’s deeds (chaps. 12-14, recension A). Although the scene has
counterparts in some Jewish apocalypses, which posit such an event
at the end of the age, here the judgment is faced by every human
being at the time of his or her death. This emphasis on death as the
transition to the next world, which recalls such heavily Hellenized

57
See most recently, and in great detail, Ross S. Kraemer, When Aseneth Met
Joseph: A Late Antique Tale of the Biblical Patriarch and His Egyptian Wife, Reconsidered (New
York, 1998). Quotations here are taken from the short form of the text, D. Cook,
“Joseph and Aseneth,” in H.F.D. Sparks, ed., The Apocryphal Old Testament (Oxford,
1984), pp. 465-503.
58
Nickelsburg, Jewish Literature, p. 271, n. 63.
59
Ibid., pp. 260-261, 271, n. 67.
60
For the text and an introduction, see E.P. Sanders, “Testament of Abraham,”
in Charlesworth, ed., Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, vol. 2, pp. 868-902. See also
Nickelsburg, “Stories,” pp. 60-67.
160 george w.e. nickelsburg

texts as the Wisdom of Solomon and 4 Maccabees, is enhanced by

the image of the two ways, along which one passes to one’s eternal
destiny (chaps. 11-12).61 The similarities to both Jewish apocalyptic-
ism and Hellenistic notions of an immediate afterlife are complicated
by one final factor. Several elements in the judgment scene have
remarkable counterparts in the Egyptian Book of the Dead.62 We are
in the presence of a religious syncretism that deftly picks and chooses
elements from its Jewish and non-Jewish environment in order to
convey its message in what its author considers to be the most com-
pelling and effective manner.

4. Conclusion

Our survey has demonstrated the complex ways in which Jewish

notions of the afterlife express and interact with broader ideas of
God’s justice and the execution of God’s judgment. Throughout the
Greco-Roman period, writers continue to espouse the notion that
God’s judgment is enacted in the history of the nation and the lives
of individuals. Increasingly, however, this judgment is seen to take
place after, and, indeed, in spite of death. Such beliefs can be ex-
pressed in language drawn from biblical texts that employ or that
strain against the Deuteronomic understanding of God’s judgment in
history (e.g., Is. 52-53).
Judgment after and in spite of death functions in several ways. It
vindicates (declares to be right) suffering for the Torah, and more
generally it compensates the righteous for a troubled life here and
now. Increasingly, it is seen as the final way in which God rewards or
punishes Israelites, and then members of the whole human race, for
their good and evil deeds.63
Judgment in the afterlife may involve a bodily resurrection, nota-
bly as the means to restore the unjust destruction of that body. Not
infrequently, however, Jewish beliefs about post-mortem judgment
have been clothed in Hellenistic language about the immortality of

61
On the judgment scene in the Testament of Abraham, see George W.E.
Nickelsburg, “Eschatology in the Testament of Abraham,” in idem, ed., Studies on the
Testament of Abraham (Missoula, 1976), pp. 23-63. On the two-ways imagery, see pp.
27-29 and idem, Resurrection, pp. 161-62, with reference to the Testament of Asher.
62
Nickelsburg, “Eschatology,” pp. 32-35, citing the opinion of Francis Schmidt.
63
Nickelsburg, Resurrection, pp. 131-143.
 the apocrypha and the non-apocalyptic pseudepigrapha 161

the soul. This development is not surprising, since even the writers of
the biblical books often employed the idiom and mythic structures of
their environment to express their own, unique religious beliefs. It is
an instance of a flexible religion relating in new ways both to its
tradition and to the broader culture in which it flourishes.

Bibliography

Abel, F.-M., Les Livres des Maccabées (Paris, 1949)

Baltzer, Klaus, The Covenant Formulary (Philadelphia, 1972).
Charlesworth, James H., ed., The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, 2 vols. (Gar-
den City, 1983).
Collins, John J., “Cosmos and Salvation: Jewish Wisdom and Apocalyptic in
the Hellenistic Age,” in History of Religions 17, 1977, pp. 121-142.
Cook, D., “Joseph and Aseneth,” in Sparks, H.F.D., ed., The Apocryphal Old
Testament (Oxford, 1984), pp. 465-503.
Dimant, Devorah, “Use and Interpretation of Mikra in the Apocrypha and
Pseudepigrapha,” in Mulder, Jan, ed., Mikra: Text, Translation, Reading
and Interpretation of the Hebrew Bible in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity
(Assen and Philadelphia, 1988), pp. 379-419.
Gilbert, M, “Wisdom Literature,” in Stone, Michael E., ed., Jewish Writings,
pp. 283-324.
Goldstein, Jonathan A., 1 Maccabees (Garden City, 1976).
Goldstein, Jonathan A., 2 Maccabees (Garden City, 1983).
Harrington, D.J., “Pseudo-Philo,” in Charlesworth, James H., ed., Old Testa-
ment Pseudepigrapha, vol. 2, pp. 297-377.
Hengel, Martin, Judaism and Hellenism, 2 vols. (Philadelphia, 1974).
Holladay, William L., Jeremiah 2 (Minneapolis, 1989).
Kraemer, Ross S., When Aseneth Met Joseph: A Late Antique Tale of the Biblical
Patriarch and His Egyptian Wife, Reconsidered (New York, 1998).
Mack, Burton L., and Roland E. Murphy, “Wisdom Literature,” in Kraft,
Robert A., and George W.E. Nickelsburg, eds., Early Judaism and its
Modern Interpreters (Philadelphia and Atlanta, 1986), pp. 381-383.
Mendenhall, George E., Law and Covenant in Israel and the Ancient Near East
(Pittsburgh, 1955).
Metzger, Bruce M., ed., The Apocrypha of the Old Testament: Revised Standard
Version; The Oxford Annotated Apocrypha (New York, 1977).
Miller, Patrick D., Jr., Interpreting the Psalms (Philadelphia, 1986), pp. 48-63.
Nickelsburg, George W.E., “Eschatology in the Testament of Abraham,” in
idem., ed., Studies on the Testament of Abraham (Missoula, 1976), pp. 23-63.
Nickelsburg, George W.E., “The Genre and Function of the Markan Pas-
sion Narrative,” in Harvard Theological Review 73, 1980, pp. 153-184.
Nickelsburg, George W.E., “Good and Bad Leaders in Pseudo-Philo’s Liber
Antiquitatum Biblicarum,” in Collins, John J., and George W. E.
162 george w.e. nickelsburg

Nickelsburg, eds., Ideal Figures in Ancient Judaism: Profiles and Paradigms

(Missoula, 1981), pp. 49-65.
Nickelsburg, George W.E., Jewish Literature Between the Bible and the Mishnah: A
Historical and Literary Introduction (Philadelphia, 1981).
Nickelsburg, George W.E., Resurrection, Immortality, and Eternal Life in Inter-
testamental Judaism (Cambridge, 1972).
Nickelsburg, George W.E., “Stories of Biblical and Early Post-Biblical
Times,” in Stone, Michael E., ed., Jewish Writings, pp. 33-87.
Nickelsburg, George W.E., “The Bible Rewritten and Expanded,” in Stone,
Michael E., ed., Jewish Writings, pp. 89-156.
Nickelsburg, George W.E., “Tobit and Enoch: Distant Cousins with a Rec-
ognizable Resemblance,” in David., J. Lull, ed., Society of Biblical Litera-
ture 1988 Seminar Papers (Atlanta, 1988), pp. 54- 68.
Nickelsburg, George W.E., and Michael E. Stone, Faith and Piety in Early
Judaism: A Reader of Texts and Documents (Philadelphia, 1983).
Sanders, E.P., “Testament of Abraham,” in Charlesworth, James H., ed.,
Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, 2, pp. 868-902.
Scott, R.B.Y., Proverbs - Ecclesiastes (Garden City, 1965).
Spittler, R.P. “Testament of Job,” in Charlesworth, James H., ed., Old Tes-
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Stone, Michael E., ed., Jewish Writings of the Second Temple Period (Assen and
Philadelphia, 1983).
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of a Religious Institution (Atlanta, 1998).
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 7. ESCHATOLOGY IN PHILO AND JOSEPHUS

Lester L. Grabbe
University of Hull

Philo and Josephus, the two most prolific Jewish writers of the Sec-
ond Temple period, were roughly contemporaries, the first few years
of Josephus overlapping the final ones of Philo. Josephus even seems
to have known some of Philo’s writings. Both men came from aristo-
cratic families, both were closely associated with the priesthood, and
both wrote in Greek. Beyond that, they were very different people
and in many ways represented different worlds, with Josephus com-
ing from Judaea and beginning his career as a soldier, while Philo
was educated in a Greek cultural milieu and large diaspora commu-
nity of Alexandria.1
What one includes under the designation “eschatology” has been
variously treated by writers of the Second Temple period. While
recognizing that one could debate the issue, I propose to ask about
eschatology in the writings of Philo and Josephus under three head-
ings: (1) individual eschatology, (2) national eschatology, and (3) cos-
mic eschatology. Although national eschatology does not necessarily
have to do with death and afterlife, its treatment is useful in filling out
the complete perspective of each writer and also setting the debate
about the beliefs of each writer. As will soon be clear, national and
cosmic eschatology also often blend into one another, for the fate of
Israel is frequently tied up with God’s intervention at the end of
human history, not only to bring salvation to his people but also to
punish the wicked and to transform the earth.

1
For more information on each individual, with extensive bibliography, see
Lester L. Grabbe, Judaism from Cyrus to Hadrian: Volume I: Persian and Greek Periods;
Volume II: Roman Period (Minneapolis, 1992), pp. 4-13, 372-374. For texts and trans-
lations: see H. St. J. Thackeray, et al., Josephus (London and Cambridge, 1926-1965)
for Josephus; and F.H. Colson and G.H Whitaker, eds., Philo (Cambridge, MA, and
London, 1929-1943) and Ralph Marcus, Philo Supplement: I Questions and Answers on
Genesis; II Questions and Answers on Exodus (Cambridge, MA, and London, 1953) for
Philo, from which my English translations are taken.
164 lester l. grabbe

Philo of Alexandria

Philo was born about 20 B.C.E. This date is determined by one of

the most important events of his life, which took place in the years
38-40 C.E., when he led a delegation of Alexandrian Jews to Rome
to appeal to the emperor Gaius Caligula, a mission described prima-
rily in his treatises on Flaccus and the delegation to Caligula (In
Flaccum and De legatione ad Gaium). A pogrom had devastated the Jew-
ish community in Alexandria in 38, and Philo sought legal redress for
the continued threat. While he was waiting in Rome to see the Ro-
man emperor, news came of an even greater threat to all Judaism:
plans for Caligula to put his own statue into the Jerusalem Temple.2
Although Philo’s subsequent audience with the emperor did not seem
to accomplish very much, the crisis relating to the Temple was
averted, and Caligula was assassinated shortly afterward. The new
emperor, Claudius, issued a decree that seems to have solved the
immediate problem.3 Nothing further is heard of Philo, and he is
presumed to have died around 50 C.E.
Philo is different from most other Jewish writers in that he was
quite knowledgeable in contemporary Greek philosophy, especially
the Platonism of his time, often referred to as Middle Platonism
(Dillon). Some think Philo was one of the main representatives (at
least of those whose writings are extant) of this version of Platonism.
Middle Platonism had taken over many Stoic elements, which one
also finds in Philo. This does not represent an arbitrary eclecticism
on Philo’s part but is characteristic of other Middle Platonists since,
as one would expect, the various Hellenistic philosophies had influ-
enced one another in their development. Middle Platonism had ab-
sorbed many elements from Stoicism and integrated them into its
philosophical system.
Because Philo wrote as a theologian and exegete, we have a well-
documented system of belief, a complete worldview presented across
the many treatises still extant. His writings themselves are often not
very systematic, partly because much of the time he is closely follow-
ing the biblical text and giving an exposition of it. This means that
one may have to extract his views from a variety of his writings, but
his views clearly emerge on most important issues.
2
Grabbe, op. cit., pp. 401-405.
3
Victor A. Tcherikover, A. Fuks, and M. Stern, eds., Corpus Papyrorum Judaicarum
(Cambridge and Jerusalem, 1957-1964), vol. 2, pp. 36-55 [text #153].
 eschatology in philo and josephus 165

1. Personal Eschatology
For Philo, the essential part of the person is the soul, conceived as a
“particle detached from the Deity” (Leg. alleg. 3.161; Somn. 1.34: apo-
spasma theion), a fragment of the soul of the universe (Mut. 223). His
overall view of the soul is that well known in contemporary Platon-
ism, and Plato had taken it from Orphic and Pythagorean concepts.
The rational soul is only imprisoned in the body and, one hopes, only
temporarily. Philo agrees with the Orphic slogan that “the body is a
tomb” (Leg. alleg. 2.108; Spec. leg. 4.188), which makes a play on the
similarity of the words for “body” (s¿ma) and “tomb” (sðma) in Greek.
It was once thought that there was a separate “Orphic religion”
alongside other Greek cults; this is now questioned, but there were
Orphic texts of diverse origin which were widely influential, includ-
ing on the Pythagoreans and on Plato himself (cf., Cratylus 400B-C).
Pythagoras is well known for his mathematical contributions, but it is
not realized that the mathematics is only a part of a mystical philoso-
phy in which ideas about the soul and its fate are a central plank.
One aspect of Pythagoreanism was belief in the transmigration of
souls (Greek metempsychosis), in which the soul that left the body of one
who had died was later reincarnated into a new body and reborn.
According to Philo, death is the separation of body and soul (Leg.
alleg. 1.105; 2.77). This was a widespread definition of death in the
Hellenistic period and by no means confined to Philo or to the
Alexandrian Jews.
The Stoic concept of the soul had some traits in common with
those of the Platonists but also differed in some essential ways. The
Stoics conceived of God as coextensive with the universe, the Logos
being the “mind” of the cosmos and the essential part of the deity.
The universe went through a long cosmic cycle of birth, growth, and
death, followed by a new beginning. The end of the universe was the
“universal conflagration” (ekpyrosis) in which it reverted to the original
elements to begin the cycle again. Since souls were all a part of the
universal soul or Logos and since everything in the universe was
encompassed in the cycle, there could be no immortality as such.
The earlier Stoics also envisaged no personal afterlife. However, the
later Stoa was willing to believe that souls (or at least some souls)
survived death and continued to exist until the ekpyrosis (Diogenes
Laertius 7.157; Porphyry, De anima, apud Eusebius, Prep. evang. 15.20
822b-c). Thus, contemporary Stoicism also believed in a personal
166 lester l. grabbe

afterlife, just like Platonism, even though the conceptualization took a

different form.
The soul was a complex entity according to Philo, with much
more to it than simply a substance that survived death, but he further
complicates the issue by using different conceptualizations of the
soul’s divisions: the Stoic concept (Aetius 4.21.1-4; Diogenes Laertius
7.110, 157; also von Arnim: vol. 2, pp. 223-25 [##826-33]), in which
the soul had eight component parts (Quod det. 168; Agr. 30; Quis heres
232; Mut. 111; Quaes. Gen. 1.75; 2.12; 3.4; 4.110); the Platonic (Tim.
36D, 69C-E; 90A; Rep. 439D), in which it is divided only into three
parts (Leg. alleg. 1.70; 3.115; Quaes. Gen. 2.59; 4.216; Quaes. Exod. 1.12);
the Aristotelian (cf., Aristotle, De anima 2.2 413A-414A), into five
parts (Quaes. Gen. 4.186); however, the really essential division is into
rational and irrational soul (Quaes. Gen. 4.112, 117, 159, 218-20;
Quaes. Exod. 1.23, 33, 53).4 This may seem confusing, because Philo
makes no attempt to reconcile these different points of view, but it is
not untypical of him. As so often in his writings, his concern is to
convey certain essential truths by different metaphors without worry-
ing whether the metaphors themselves may appear to be contradic-
tory.
In order to understand Philo’s views, it is important to let him tell
us himself. A fundamental passage on the soul is found in Plant. 14:
In the air He made the winged creatures perceived by our senses, and
other mighty beings besides which are wholly beyond apprehension by
sense. This is the host of the bodiless souls. Their array is made up of
companies that differ in kind. We are told that some enter into mortal
bodies, and quit them again at certain fixed periods, while others, en-
dowed with a diviner constitution, have no regard for any earthly quar-
ter, but exist on high nigh to the ethereal region itself. These are the
purest spirits of all, whom Greek philosophers call heroes, but whom
Moses, employing a well-chosen name, entitles “angels,” for they go on
embassies bearing tidings from the great Ruler to His subjects of the
boons which He sends them, and reporting to the Monarch what His
subjects are in need of.
Another passage expands this idea (Gig. 6-16):
[6] It is Moses’ custom to give the name of angels to those whom other
philosophers call demons (or spirits), souls that is which fly and hover in
the air. [7] And let no one suppose that which is here said is a myth.

4
Cf., John Dillon, The Middle Platonists: A Study of Platonism 80 B.C. to A.D. 220
(London, 1977), p. 175.
 eschatology in philo and josephus 167

For the universe must needs be filled through and through with life, and
each of its primary elementary divisions contains the forms of life which
are akin and suited to it.... [8] For the stars are souls divine and without
blemish throughout, and therefore as each of them is mind in its purest
form, they move in the line most akin to mind—the circle. And so the
other element, the air, must needs be filled with living beings, though
indeed they are invisible to us, since even the air itself is not visible to
our senses. [9] Yet the fact that our powers of vision are incapable of
any perception of the forms of these souls is no reason why we should
doubt that there are souls in the air, but they must be apprehended by
the mind, that like may be discerned by like.
Thus, Philo sees rational souls as associated with the air, the heavens,
and divinity. Human souls are of the same general substance as those
who make up the ranks of angels and the stars. The difference is that
in humans the souls are entangled with the body and the lower or
irrational soul (cf., Leg. alleg. 1.31-42; Conf. 176-82; Quis heres 55-62;
Congr. 97; Quaes. Exod. 2.13). The distinction between the rational and
irrational soul is very important to Philo. He associated immortality
with the soul but not with the irrational soul, which is mortal and
corruptible. Although a general assertion of immortality can be found
(e.g., Quaes. Gen. 3.11), this really applies only to the rational part of
the soul (Fug. 68-71; Quod det. 81-85). The passions (appetites, desires)
are a product of the lower part of the soul, which must be controlled
by the higher part of the soul or the mind. Note, for example, Gig.
28-31:
[28] And so though the divine spirit may stay awhile in the soul it
cannot abide there, as we have said.... [29] But the chief cause of
ignorance is the flesh, and the tie which binds us so closely to the flesh.
.... [30] But nothing thwarts its growth so much as our fleshly nature.
For on it ignorance and scorn of learning rest. It is ready laid for them
as a first and main foundation; each one of the qualities named rises on
it like a building. For souls that are free from flesh and body spend their
days in the theatre of the universe and with a joy that none can hinder
see and hear things divine, which they have desired with love insatiable.
But those which bear the burden of the flesh, oppressed by the grievous
load, cannot look up to the heavens as they revolve, but with necks
bowed downwards are constrained to stand rooted to the ground like
four-footed beasts.
The ultimate goal and end are alluded to in this passage: to escape
the encumbrance of the body. This is spelled out further in the fol-
lowing passage (Gig. 12-16):
168 lester l. grabbe

[12] Now some of the souls have descended into bodies, but others have
never deigned to be brought into union with any of the parts of earth.
They are consecrated and devoted to the service of the Father and
Creator whose wont it is to employ them as ministers and helpers, to
have charge and care of mortal man. [13] But the others descending
into the body as though into a stream have sometimes been caught in
the swirl of its rushing torrent and swallowed up thereby, at other times
have been able to stem the current, have risen to the surface and then
soared upwards back to the place from whence they came. [14] These
last, then, are the souls of those who have given themselves to genuine
philosophy, who from first to last study to die to the life in the body,
that a higher existence immortal and incorporeal, in the presence of
Him who is Himself immortal and uncreated, may be their portion.
[15] But the souls which have sunk beneath the stream, are the souls of
the others who have held no count of wisdom. They have abandoned
themselves to the unstable things of chance, none of which has aught to
do with our noblest part, the soul or mind but all are related to that
dead thing which was our birth-fellow, the body, or to objects more
lifeless still, glory, wealth, and offices, and honours, and all other illu-
sions which like images or pictures are created through the deceit of
false opinion by those who have never gazed upon true beauty.
As noted above, the body was viewed as negative by Philo, in com-
mon with the Platonists, Pythagoreans, and others. The aim of life
was to free the soul at death to exist in the heavenly sphere, the fate
of souls being dependent on the goodness or wisdom of the soul itself.
What happens to the wicked is less clearly delineated. Philo thinks
there are such things as punitive angels whose function is primarily to
punish wicked humans, but they are not themselves wicked as such
(Conf. 177; Fug. 66). The question is, what is the fate of the wicked
souls? Philo’s discussion of what happens to the wicked is given only
in metaphorical terms. One passage suggests that just as the righteous
go to heaven (or above the heavens), the wicked are sent down to
Tartarus (originally, the place in which Zeus imprisoned the Titans
after defeating them). He also refers to punishment in Hades. Just as
the righteous are said to look heavenward for their dwelling (Quaes.
Gen. 4.74, 178) or to live on “Olympus” (Somn. 1.151), the wicked are
associated with Hades:
[Quis Heres 45] Now there are three kinds of life, one looking Godwards,
another looking to created things, another on the border-line, a mixture
of the other two. The God-regarding life has never come down to us,
nor submitted to the constraints of the body. The life that looks to
creation has never risen at all nor sought to rise, but makes its lair in the
recesses of Hades and rejoices in a form of living, which is not worth the
 eschatology in philo and josephus 169

pains. It is the mixed life, which often drawn on by those of the higher
line is possessed and inspired by God, though often pulled back by the
worse it reverses its course.
[Congr. 57] On the other hand he banishes the unjust and godless souls
from himself to the furthest bounds, and disperses them to the place of
pleasures and lusts and injustices. That place is most fitly called the
place of the impious, but it is not that mythical place of the impious in
Hades. For the true Hades is the life of the bad, a life of damnation and
blood-guiltiness, the victim of every curse.
[Quaes. Exod. 2.40] (Ex. xxiv. 12a) What is the meaning of the words,
“Come up to Me to the mountain and be there”? This signifies that a
holy soul is divinized by ascending not to the air or to the ether or to
heaven (which is) higher than all but to (a region) above the heavens.
And beyond the world there is no place but God...demonstrating the
placelessness and the unchanging habitation of the divine place. For
those who have a quickly satiated passion for reflexion fly upward for
only a short distance under divine inspiration and then they immedi-
ately return. They do not fly so much as they are drawn downward, I
mean, to the depths of Tartarus.
The terms “Hades” and “Tartarus” are used by Philo, but appar-
ently as conventional expressions, not literal locations of divine im-
prisonment or punishment. For Philo, Hades and Tartarus are con-
ditions, not places. Philo can also refer to “eternal death” (aidios
thanatos) for the impious (Post. 39), but again this looks very much like
metaphorical language, for he makes nothing further of this state-
ment. It is not clear (at least, to me) that any soul is wicked of itself,
apart from its entanglement with the body and the material world.
Some souls are imprisoned in their own hell by refusing to exercise
the wisdom to break free of the body and soar into the upper regions
which is the soul’s natural home.

2. National Eschatology
A number of scholars have argued that Philo held a type of messianic
belief.5 The most recent defense of this interpretation has been given
5
E.R. Goodenough and H.L. Goodhart, The Politics of Philo Judaeus, Practice and
Theory: With a General Bibliography of Philo (New Haven, 1938), pp. 115-119; Harry
Austryn Wolfson, Philo: Foundations of Religious Philosophy in Judaism, Christianity, and
Islam (Cambridge, 1947), vol. 2, pp. 395-426; for a detailed critique of their views, see
Richard D. Hecht, “Philo and Messiah,” in Jacob Neusner, W.S. Green, and E.S.
Frerichs, eds., Judaisms and Their Messiahs at the Turn of the Christian Era (Cambridge,
1987), pp. 140-148.
170 lester l. grabbe

by Peder Borgen.6 He makes the point that, allowing for Philo’s

particularism, he still maintains a national role for Jews, putting them
at the head of the nations. The Jews have the cosmic divine law that
will establish universal peace when all nations follow it (Vita Mosis
2.43-44). “Thus the central role of the Jewish nation as the head (and
ruler) of all nations is a fundamental element of Philo’s eschatological
hope.”7
Philo’s ideas about a golden age to come will be discussed in the
next section. Both here and there, the main appeal is to Philo’s
treatise “Rewards and Punishments” (De Paemiis et Poenis). The ques-
tion here is whether the future hope envisaged a messianic figure or
leader as an individual as normally understood. One passage might
imply some sort of messianic figure and has certainly been inter-
preted in this way. In discussing the triumph of the righteous over
their enemies, Philo states that if some have the temerity to attack
them (Praem. 94-95):
...they will fly headlong, companies of hundreds before handfuls of five,
ten thousands before hundreds by many ways for the one by which they
came. Some, without even any pursuer save fear, will turn their backs
and present admirable targets to their enemies so that it would be an
easy matter for all to fall slaughtered to a man. For “there shall come
forth a man,” says the oracles, and leading his host to war he will
subdue great and populous nations, because God has sent to his aid the
reinforcement which befits the godly, and that is dauntless courage of
soul and all-powerful strength of body, either of which strikes fear into
the enemy and the two if united are quite irresistible.
Philo’s comments in this passage appear to be based on the
Septuagint’s text of Num. 24:7a, which states, “There will come forth
a man from his seed and will rule over many nations” (The MT reads
rather differently: “Water shall flow from his waterskins, and his/its
seed in many waters.”) The passage is also quoted in Vita Mosis
1.288-91, where Philo is expounding the whole of Balaam’s oracle in
Num. 24. However, Borgen makes the point that in Praem. 95 there is
no textual reason for Philo to introduce Num. 24:7, since this latter
passage is based on Lev. 26 and Deut. 28; therefore, Philo

6
Peter Borgen, “‘There Shall Come Forth a Man:’ Reflections on Messianic
Ideas in Philo,” in James H. Charlesworth, ed., The Messiah: Developments in Earliest
Judaism and Christianity (Minneapolis, 1992), pp. 341-361; Philo of Alexandria: An Exegete
for His Time (Leiden, 1997), pp. 261-281.
7
Bergen, op.cit. (1992), p. 346.
 eschatology in philo and josephus 171

has not just in a mechanical way accepted a word about Messiah from
Scripture. He has deliberately placed Num 24:7 into the new context....
The conclusion is this: without using the term “Messiah,” Philo looks
for the possibility of a (non-Davidic) Messiah to come in the form of a
“Man” who is seen as a final commander-in-chief and emperor of the
Hebrew nation as the head of the nations.8
Borgen knows Philo well and argues ingeniously, but in the end his
explanation is not convincing. Since Philo read the Septuagint text
carefully and literally but did not know the Hebrew,9 he had to
interpret Num. 24:7 as a reference to a particular man. In Vita Mosis
1.289-91, Philo has simply interpreted the passage to mean a ruler of
some sort (perhaps Moses), but in this case he makes nothing further
of it. Similarly, he introduces Num. 24:7 into Praem. 95 to make a
point about a military leader, but again he does not take the issue
further. If he took the “man” of Num. 24:7 in the Septuagint as a
messianic figure, why does he give no hint that this is his interpreta-
tion? In fact, a number of rather different suggestions have been
made as to whom “man” in this passage refers in Philo’s thinking: as
a reference to God himself or to Israel.10 The important point is that,
having introduced the subject, he drops it even though he did not
need to. Instead of reading each passage in context, Borgen has
conflated the two different texts—taking them out of context—to
produce a single composite figure. Philo nowhere suggests such a
composite figure; it is Borgen’s creation, not Philo’s.
Thomas Tobin has argued that Philo is deliberately opposing
much more radical eschatological views that foresaw the overthrow
of the Romans by a savior figure, as exemplified in such writings as
Sibylline Oracles 3 and 5.11 The indication is that these views were
widespread and had a long history among the Jewish community in
Egypt, including the more educated among them (who were the ones

8
Peter Borgen, Philo of Alexandria: An Exegete for His Time, pp. 174, 176.
9
Cf., Lester L. Grabbe, Etymology in Early Jewish Interpretation: The Hebrew Names in
Philo (Atlanta, 1988), pp. 63, 233-235.
10
On the former idea, see Gerbern S. Oegema, Der Gesalbte und sein Volk: Unter-
suchungen zum Konzeptualisierungsprozeß der messianischen Erwartungen von den Makkabäern bis
Bar Koziba (Göttingen, 1994), pp. 118-119; cf., Ulrich Fischer, Eschatologie und Jen-
seitserwartung im hellenistischen Diasporajudentum (Berlin and New York, 1978), p. 201; on
the latter, see Burton L. Mack, “Wisdom and Apocalyptic in Philo,” in David T.
Runia, David M. Hay, and David Winston, eds., Heirs of the Septuagint. Philo, Hellenistic
Judaism and Early Christianity: Festschrift for Earle Hilgert (Atlanta, 1991), p 35.
11
Cf., also Hecht, op. cit., pp. 160-161.
172 lester l. grabbe

able to compose such writings in traditional Greek verse). With his

extensive knowledge of the political situation, Philo could only view
such movements as potentially disastrous and sought to give a differ-
ent interpretation. Tobin’s explanation (as well as Hecht’s similar
one) is plausible and takes account of the broader situation of the
Egyptian Jewish community. This need not mean that Philo was only
presenting an expedient interpretation (nor does Tobin imply this),
for a messianic savior figure does not fit easily into his theological
system.12

3. Cosmic Eschatology
Philo’s statements about cosmic eschatology are not much more
clearly delineated than those on national eschatology. Again, his trea-
tise on rewards and punishments (De Paemiis et Poenis) is central to any
discussion. In it, Philo speaks of paradisial conditions to come about
when God’s law is perfectly obeyed. His discussion takes the form of
describing rewards for observing various virtues. For example, he
points out that the natural enmity between humans and animals will
disappear only when the wild animals within the soul are tamed (87-
88). At that point the various savage creatures, including bears, lions,
panthers, and even elephants and tigers from India, will have fear
and respect for humans and be as gentle as Maltese dogs (89). Even
poisonous creatures, like scorpions and serpents, and man-eating
creatures, like crocodiles, will cease to harm (90). And once the wild
animals are tame, humans will be ashamed to continue engaging in
warfare (91-93). Virtue will silence any enemies (93), or, if it fails to,
the strength of the righteous will put them to flight (94-95), or they
will be defeated by wasps (96-97). Other blessings follow, of wealth
(98-107), progeny (108-117), and health (118-126).
One could interpret this passage as the new earth, the age to
come, or the various other transformations found in apocalyptic lit-
erature. However, Philo goes on to follow the text and discuss the
curses brought on by disobedience (127-156). If those suffering for
their sins repent, then they will be restored and prosper again (157-
172), and the exiles will be gathered and return to their homeland
(165-168). Although this has parallels to some of the apocalyptic

12
As also argued by Fischer, op. cit., Hecht, op. cit., and Mack, op. cit., pp. 21-
39; cf., also Oegema, op. cit., pp. 118, 122; see also the next section.
 eschatology in philo and josephus 173

scenarios, Philo is basically following the text of Lev. 26 and Deut.

28. There is no indication that this will be according to some sort of
divine timetable or plan but, rather, that it will be a natural conse-
quence of that obedience. Philo hints at this himself when he quotes
Is. 54:1 and states that it is “a saying which also is an allegory of the
history of the soul” (158). Philo’s interpretation is a long way from
the apocalyptic one.13
There is no reference to a resurrection in Philo. Unlike Josephus
(see below), who also seems not to refer to the resurrection but may
have believed in one, it is unlikely that Philo has accidentally or even
deliberately been silent on a deeply held belief. On the contrary, a
resurrection does not fit at all well into his religious system. As ex-
plained above under “Personal Eschatology,” the whole point of the
spiritual life is for the soul eventually to escape the encumbrance of
the body. Most fortunate are those souls who do not have to undergo
incarnation and can remain free to act in the higher world without
the interference of fleshly distractions and appetites. One cannot
imagine Philo’s looking with favor on the idea of a general resurrec-
tion in which the souls of the righteous were again reunited with the
body.
Other writings seem to agree with Philo in this lack of a bodily
resurrection. The Wisdom of Solomon, probably written by an Egyp-
tian Jew in the same general period as Philo, also seems to have no
concept of a resurrection. Like Philo, the emphasis is on the immedi-
ate post-mortem judgment of the soul not on some great assizes at
the end of history.14
In the end, Philo has no cosmic eschatology—or, rather, his cos-
mic eschatology is not distinguished from his individual eschatology.
All emphasis is placed on the goal and fate of the individuals souls.
He says nothing about a cosmic cataclysm, the intervention of God
at the end of history, a universal resurrection, or an endtime judg-
ment of all human beings. His concern is that by means of wise
behavior and obedience to the law, at death the rational soul can
escape the body and the irrational part of the soul and rejoin the
divine sphere that is its natural habitation.

13
Cf., Mack, op. cit., p. 37.
14
Cf., Grabbe, Wisdom of Solomon, especially pp. 59-61.
174 lester l. grabbe

Josephus

Josephus tells us that he was born in 37 C.E. (Ant. 20.11.3 §267). He

was of an aristocratic priestly family and, at age 26, was sent on a
mission to Rome. When the war with Rome began in 66 C.E., he
was sent to be general of Galilee (or at least a part of it). A year later,
when Jotapata fell, Vespasian captured him but treated him as a free
man after his troops proclaimed him emperor, which Josephus had
allegedly prophesied. After the fall of Jerusalem, Titus took him back
to Rome where he was made a Roman citizen, adopted into the
Flavian family, and given a pension. Over the next twenty-five years,
he wrote a history of the war with Rome (The War of the Jews), an
account of the Jews from creation to 66 C.E. (The Antiquities of the
Jews), an autobiography (The Life, though this was devoted mostly to
his activities when a general in Galilee), and an attack on the anti-
Jewish polemic of the Alexandrian writer Apion (Against Apion). He
drops out of sight about 94 C.E., and we hear no more of him or his
family (he had two sons).
Josephus’s views are important for several reasons. As a member of
the priestly aristocracy, his views on many issues were probably not
his alone but represented those of others of his social group (though
he gives no indication that he ever functioned as a Temple-priest).
He was a native of Judah and had Hebrew and/or Aramaic as his
first language(s). But he was also educated in the Greek language and
a certain amount of Greek literature. His life overlapped the impor-
tant watershed of pre-70 and post-70 times, with the great changes
taking place in Judaism in the post-destruction period. To what ex-
tent he was aware of what was happening at Yavneh is debated, but
there are arguments that he attempted to align himself with the
emerging Rabbinic movement.15 An additional complicating factor is
that Josephus is an apologist for Judaism and attempts to interpret
Jewish history and religion in categories that would appeal to the
educated Greek or Roman. On the negative side, this can lead to
distortions; but, on the positive side, he makes clearer the common
beliefs held by both Jew and gentile of the Mediterranean world.
Josephus is rather different from Philo when it comes to under-
standing his theological views. These views are not part of a system-

15
Cf., Jacob Neusner, From Politics to Piety (Englewood Cliffs, 1973), pp. 45-66;
Seth Schwartz, Josephus and Judaean Politics (Leiden, 1990).
 eschatology in philo and josephus 175

atic treatment in theological works but are usually mentioned only in

passing in historical works. This means that his hints and even his
silences can be rather significant.

1. Personal Eschatology
The first significant passage about Josephus’s beliefs occurs in the
context of the fall of Jotapata and the debate Josephus and his com-
panions had about suicide. Although his companions wanted to kill
themselves rather than surrender to the Romans, Josephus argued
against suicide (War 3.8.1-7 §§340-391):
[War 3.8.5 §§362, 372, 374-375] Why set asunder such fond compan-
ions as soul and body? .... All of us, it is true, have mortal bodies,
composed of perishable matter, but the soul lives for ever, immortal
[athanatos]: it is a portion of the Deity [theou moira] housed in our bod-
ies.... Know you not that they who depart this life in accordance with
the law of nature and repay the loan which they received from God,
when He who lent is pleased to reclaim it, win eternal renown; that
their houses and families are secure; that their souls, remaining spotless
and obedient, are allotted the most holy place in heaven, whence, in the
revolution of the ages, they return to find in chaste bodies a new habi-
tation? But as for those who have laid mad hands upon themselves, the
darker regions of the nether world receive their souls, and God, their
father, visits upon their posterity the outrageous acts of the parents.
This speech is most likely an invention of Josephus. The situation
described has a certain unreality about it: his companions want to
commit suicide, whereas he does not, but they allow him to make a
long philosophical speech about the evils of suicide; after they reject
his arguments and even threaten to kill him, they nevertheless allow
the lots to fall so that he is last in line to take his life. We can only
regard Josephus’s account with suspicion. Yet despite the rhetorical
function of the speech, there is a good chance that the statements
about the soul represent his own point of view. Indeed, the fact that
the speech was composed in the study rather than extemporized on
the battlefield makes it more likely to encapsulate Josephus’s own
perspective on the soul. A further statement is found in Ag. Apion 2.30
§§218:
No; each individual...is firmly persuaded that to those who observe the
laws and, if they must needs die for them, willingly meet death, God has
granted a renewed existence and in the revolution of the ages the gift of
a better life.
176 lester l. grabbe

These two passages give some unambiguous views. The emphasis in

both is on the soul: the soul is currently connected with the body, but
it is the real person, even a small portion of the divine temporarily
incarnated. Death is the separation of body and soul, and the soul
lives on as an immortal entity; the good souls are rewarded, and the
evil ones are punished. It also seems evident that Josephus believed in
the transmigration of souls, stating that the soul released at death
would eventually be reborn in a new body. This belief in metempsycho-
sis seems to be a problem for some commentators, because they
either ignore it (e.g., Bousset) or attempt to explain that this was not
Josephus’s view.16
These two descriptions of Josephus’s own views look remarkably
similar to the views ascribed by Josephus himself to both the Phari-
sees and the Essenes. According to him, the Pharisees believed the
following:
[War 2.8.14 §§163] Every soul, they maintain, is imperishable, but the
soul of the good alone passes into another body, while the souls of the
wicked suffer eternal punishment.

[Ant. 18.1.3 §14] They believe that souls have power to survive death
and that there are rewards and punishments under the earth for those
who have led lives of virtue or vice: eternal imprisonment is the lot of
evil souls, while the good souls receive an easy passage to a new life.
He states the following about the Essene beliefs (War 2.8.11 §154-
158):
For it is a fixed belief of theirs that the body is corruptible and its
constituent matter impermanent, but that the soul is immortal and
imperishable. Emanating from the finest ether, these souls become en-
tangled, as it were, in the prison-house of the body, to which they are
dragged down by a sort of natural spell; but when once they are re-
leased from the bonds of the flesh, then, as though liberated from a long
servitude, they rejoice and are borne aloft. Sharing the belief of the sons
of Greece, they maintain that for virtuous souls there is reserved an
abode beyond the ocean, a place which is not oppressed by rain or
snow or heat, but is refreshed by the ever gentle breath of the west wind
coming in from ocean; while they relegate base souls to a murky and
tempestuous dungeon, big with never-ending punishments.

16
E.g., Albert Dihle, “C. Judaism: I. Hellenistic Judaism,” in Gerhard Friedrich,
ed., Theological Dictionary of the New Testament (Grand Rapids, 1974), vol. 9, p. 634, n.
104.
 eschatology in philo and josephus 177

What do we make of these statements, since Josephus does not him-

self explicitly state his agreement with them? Josephus was probably
never a Pharisee, despite claims to having been one (Life 2 §12).17
Similarly, I do not believe his claims to have “passed through” the
Essene probationary procedures (Life 2 §§10-11). The point here is
that in each case—whether the Pharisees or the Essenes—the views
look strikingly like those in the passages that seem to represent
Josephus’s own opinions. On the other hand, he evidently rejected
the Sadducean view that the soul died with the body (Ant. 18.1.4.§16).
This rejection is not only implied by the way he describes the various
beliefs of the different sects but also by the statements in his suicide
speech.
Whether he sided precisely with the Pharisaic view or the Essene
view is perhaps a moot point, though he (like Philo) may have been
happy to espouse more than one view. What does seem to emerge
from the various passages in Josephus is belief in a soul that survives
death and is rewarded or punished for its deeds on earth. He also
seems to think that at some point the soul, or at least the good soul,
might well be reincarnated into a new body and reborn once more.

2. National Eschatology
In Josephus’ mind national eschatology was probably closely tied
with cosmic eschatology, but a precise understanding is limited by his
desire to avoid offending the Romans. The most striking aspect of his
statements on the question is his explicit denial that the conflict with
Rome had anything to do with an eschatological war in which the
Jewish nation would be delivered. This is hardly surprising since,
writing sometime after the events, he knew that there had been no
divine or messianic intervention to save the Jews and destroy the
Romans. Instead, he interprets the alleged prophecies as having been
misunderstood or even as prophesying disaster.
Let us begin by looking at the several oracles he quotes. The main
one relates to the expectation of a “ruler from the East” (War 6.5.4
§§311-313):

17
Cf., Lester L. Grabbe, “Sadducees and Pharisees,” in Jacob Neusner and Alan
J. Avery-Peck, eds., Judaism in Late Antiquity: Volume Two. Where We Stand: Issues and
Debates in Ancient Judaism (Leiden, 1999), pp. 35-62.
178 lester l. grabbe

Thus the Jews, after the demolition of Antonia, reduced the temple to a
square, although they had it recorded in their oracles that the city and
the sanctuary would be taken when the temple should become four-
square (tetragonon). But what more than all else incited them to the war
was an ambiguous oracle, likewise found in their sacred scriptures, to
the effect that at that time one from their country would become ruler
of the world. This they understood to mean someone of their own race,
and many of their wise men went astray in their interpretation of it.
The oracle, however, in reality signified the sovereignty of Vespasian,
who was proclaimed Emperor on Jewish soil.
It is important to notice a significant difference between this oracle
and Josephus’s own prophecy that Vespasian would become em-
peror, which he claims came to him in a dream (War 3.8.3 §§351-
353). The matter is difficult because Josephus associates his dreams
with interpretation of prophecies in Scripture, but it seems likely that
his prophecy to Vespasian initially had a different basis.18 Interest-
ingly, the Roman historian Tacitus gives a similar story (Histories
5.13.2):
Few interpreted these omens as fearfully; the majority firmly believed
that their ancient priestly writings contained the prophecy that this was
the very time when the East should grow strong and that men starting
from Judea should possess the world. This mysterious prophecy had in
reality pointed to Vespasian and Titus, but the common people, as is
the way of human ambition, interpreted these great destinies in their
favor, and could be not be turned to the truth even by adversity.
Suetonius gives similar information (Vespasian 4.5; 5.6):
When he [Vespasian] consulted the oracle of the god of Carmel in
Judaea, the lots were highly encouraging, promising that whatever he
planned or wished, however great it might be, would come to pass; and
one of his high-born prisoners, Josephus by name, as he was being put
in chains, declared most confidently that he would soon be released by
the same man, who would then, however, be emperor.
A whole array of questions comes to mind about these oracles, in-
cluding: Did they all have a common origin or were they independ-
ent or at least circulating in several forms? On what passage of the
Bible were they based?19 For our purposes, however, the central ques-

18
Cf., Fischer, op. cit., pp. 168-174.
19
See further Lester L. Grabbe, “The 70-Weeks Prophecy (Daniel 9:24-27) in
Early Jewish Interpretation,” in Craig A. Evans and Shemaryahu Talmon, eds., The
Quest for Context and Meaning: Studies in Biblical Intertextuality in Honor of James A. Sanders
(Leiden, 1997), pp. 595-611.
 eschatology in philo and josephus 179

tion is, Did Josephus genuinely believe that Vespasian was the in-
tended fulfillment of these prophetic interpretations? One is left with
the strong impression that Josephus himself once believed in various
oracles thought to predict a coming messianic deliverer. A number of
such oracles were evidently taken by many Jews as predictions of
ultimate deliverance. Even in the very last days of the siege of Jerusa-
lem, as the Romans were breaching the walls, a large number of
those in the city were still expecting to be delivered against all ap-
pearances (War 6.5.2 §§283-287). By the final days of the siege,
Josephus probably did not believe such views, but his ready participa-
tion in the revolt (and here his actions speak louder than words) hints
that the oracles later applied so readily to Vespasian were originally
seen by Josephus himself as providing hope of a Jewish victory.
Josephus obviously abandoned the messianic interpretation of
these oracles at some point and began to reinterpret them as applying
to Vespasian. However, this is probably only a part of the story—the
part he wants left to posterity—and by no means the whole story. He
may well still have thought that Vespasian was only a forerunner of
a Jewish leader who was to arise in the endtime to deliver his people.
In the same way, he is very negative toward most of the rebel move-
ments and “bandits” about which he writes, a number of which were
likely to have been messianic in character.20 Yet this is only part of
the story because he also joined the ultimate rebellion in 66 C.E. and
was himself a “rebel leader” in some sense. In other words, Josephus
was pragmatic enough to abandon various oracles alleged to proph-
esy a Jewish victory in the revolt against Rome when that revolt was
obviously failing, but it is not at all clear that he had no messianic
hopes for the more distant future.
Quite the contrary, we have a strong indication that Josephus’s
beliefs about prophecy were more complex than his explicit state-
ments might lead us to believe. For example, he mentions a couple of
other oracles he does not refer to Vespasian, though he interprets
them to fit with that view (War 4.6.3 §388):
For there was an ancient saying of inspired men that the city would be
taken and the sanctuary burnt to the ground by right of war,
whensoever it should be visited by sedition and native hands should be
the first to defile God’s sacred precincts.

20
See Grabbe, Judaism from Cyrus to Hadrian, pp. 511-514.
180 lester l. grabbe

An allusion to another oracle (or possibly the same one) seems to be

found in War 6.2.1 §109:
Who knows not the records of the ancient prophets and that oracle
which threatens this poor city and is even now coming true? For they
foretold that it would then be taken whensoever one should begin to
slaughter his own countrymen.
Josephus was clearly very interested in oracles; if not, why was he so
keen to collect and interpret them? On the other hand, if he origi-
nally saw them all as an indication that Rome would suppress the
revolt and destroy Jerusalem, why was he so enthusiastic to be a
military leader under those taking the nation to certain destruction?
The situation is best explained if Josephus changed his interpretation
of those oracles he had originally understood as prophesying a
messianic victory over the Romans.
The most important passage, however, relates to his discussion of
the book of Daniel, in particular Dan. 2 (Ant. 10.10.3-4 §§195-210).
He associates the head of gold with Nebuchadnezzar (Ant. 10.10.4
§§208-210, as Dan. 2:38 itself does). The head and shoulders repre-
sent the two kings who bring the Babylonian empire to an end, later
interpreted as Cyrus the Persian and Darius the Mede (Ant. 10.11.4
§§247-248). They are in turn defeated by a king from the West who
can only be Alexander; his empire is subsequently brought down by
a power like iron that, though not explicitly identified, must be
Rome. The last is destroyed by a “stone made without hands,” about
which Josephus states (Ant. 10.10.4 §210):
And Daniel also revealed to the king the meaning of the stone, but I
have not thought it proper to relate this, since I am expected to write of
what is past and done and not of what is to be; if, however, there is
anyone who has so keen a desire for exact information that he will not
stop short of inquiring more closely but wishes to learn about the hid-
den things that are to come, let him take the trouble to read the Book
of Daniel, which he will find among the sacred writings.
Scholars have long argued that the original prophecy of Dan. 2 en-
visaged the kingdoms of Babylon, the Medes, the Persians, and the
Greeks. However, by the first century, these had been reoriented to
be Babylon, the Medes and Persians as one kingdom, the Greeks,
and, finally, the Romans. This is especially clear in the “eagle vision”
of 4 Ezra 11-12 but also presupposed in the New Testament Revela-
tion of John (13; 17-18). Interestingly, Josephus was writing these
words about Daniel at the end of the first century C.E., approxi-
 eschatology in philo and josephus 181

mately the same time as the authors of 4 Ezra and Revelation were
penning their prophecies. Did he also apply the prophecy of Daniel
to Rome, expecting its destruction by supernatural means? I would
say, almost certainly. Whether he expected that destruction to be
imminent as in 4 Ezra and Revelation is rather less certain. Since the
whole thrust of his writings was to dampen the revolutionary enthu-
siasm, he was probably more aware than some of the likely endur-
ance of the Roman empire for the foreseeable future. He does not
write as one who expected it to fall shortly, unlike some of his con-
temporary apocalypticists. Nevertheless, he gives strong hints that his
messianic interpretations of prophecy, though postponed to a more
distant future, had not changed.

3. Cosmic Eschatology
Apart from some hints at belief in an apocalyptic end to history,
Josephus is largely silent about cosmic eschatology. Because of his
reluctance to interpret prophecies that might refer to the destruction
of Rome, it is not unusual that he says nothing explicitly on this
subject. But he does make one revealing—if brief—statement in an
out-of-the-way context about pre-Flood discoveries (Ant. 1.2.3 §§70-
71):
Moreover, to prevent their discoveries from being lost to mankind and
perishing before they became known—Adam having predicted a de-
struction of the universe, at one time by a violent fire and at another by
a mighty deluge of water—they [the sons of Seth] erected two pillars,
one of brick and the other of stone, and inscribed these discoveries on
both....
This is all Josephus says on the subject, but, once again, it hints that
he believed in a destruction of the world by fire in the eschaton (since
the destruction by water manifestly referred to the Noachic flood). It
is another indication that his eschatological views were rather more
extensive than described in his extant writings.
Surprisingly, Josephus gives no evidence of belief in a resurrection,
even though this would not require him to bring the Romans into the
picture. Yet we should not take this silence as proof that Josephus did
not believe in the resurrection as such, since this was a concept alien
to the Greeks and Romans (cf., Acts 17:32). It may well be that
Josephus had no occasion on which to expound the belief and felt
that, because of his apologetic purposes, he should keep quiet about
182 lester l. grabbe

it. We do not know that this was the case, but if we had to guess at
his views, it is more likely than not that the resurrection of the dead
to judgment in the endtime was a part of his belief system.

Summary and Conclusions

A major problem with some past discussions of Philo and Josephus is

the assumption that they must agree with each other and with other
Jewish beliefs of the time, especially with beliefs expressed in Rab-
binic literature. This exercise in harmonizing not only is unjustified
in the case of Second Temple literature, the diversity of which has
been recognized by many scholars for some time now, but overlooks
the differences and complexities found in Rabbinic literature. 21 We
should not attempt to reconcile different points of view between Jew-
ish writers of this period, whether on eschatology or other religious
issues, but must let each speak for himself. Even so, considering the
different backgrounds of Philo and Josephus, their writings contain
some surprising agreements as well as significant differences:
1. In some ways Philo and Josephus are representatives of “Hellen-
istic Judaism” in that they both wrote in Greek and show some
knowledge of Greek literature, philosophy, and other aspects of cul-
ture. They both use Greek models to express native Jewish concepts
(e.g., Josephus compares the Essenes to the Pythagoreans). The dif-
ferences between them may be due in part to their different back-
grounds: Philo as a prominent member of the Alexandrian Jewish
community; Josephus as a native of Palestine and a priest. But some
of the differences are almost certainly because of the different nature
of the sources: Philo is writing as an exegete and interpreter who is
trying to explain and defend his theological views; Josephus is writing
a history of the Jews, and his beliefs on certain issues are simply
ignored or mentioned only in passing.
2. Both take similar positions on the soul, even giving a similar
definition that it is a “divine fragment.” To them the soul (or the
rational part, in Philo’s system) is incorruptible and immortal but is
imprisoned in the body. Death is separation of the soul and body.

21
Jacob Neusner, “Mishnah and Messiah,” in Jacob Neusner, W.S. Green, and
E.S. Frerichs, eds., Judaisms and Their Messiahs at the Turn of the Christian Era (Cam-
bridge, 1987), pp. 265-282.
 eschatology in philo and josephus 183

3. Neither mentions a resurrection of any sort. With Philo, we can

be reasonably certain that this was his true position; a resurrection
would not fit his theological system very well. With Josephus, how-
ever, we cannot be sure that his failure to mention a resurrection is his
final word. The Greco-Roman world does not seem to have found
this concept easy to understand, and there was no real reason for
him to mention it. Although we cannot be sure that he combined a
resurrection with his belief in the immortal soul, it is not improbable.
4. A major difference between Philo and Josephus is that Philo
allegorizes everything whereas Josephus seems to interpret more liter-
ally. This is one of the reasons for thinking that Josephus may have
accepted certain doctrines that he does not explicitly mention, such
as an eschatological war, cosmic upheaval, final judgment, and per-
haps even resurrection. Philo has spiritualized most such passages to
refer to the progress of the soul, whereas Josephus can use language
that sounds more direct and real and has more in common with
some of the well-known apocalypses.
5. Whereas, according to Philo, the goal is to get free of the body,
which weights down the soul, Josephus seems to believe that all souls
are eventually reborn. This apparent belief in reincarnation is unu-
sual, but, while some scholars claim it is not there at all, it appears
clearly enough in two passages. Belief that the goal was to escape
from the cycle of rebirth is not delineated in Josephus, but this might
have been his position; if so, he may not have been as far apart from
Philo as he presently seems.
6. Josephus is quite explicit that good souls are rewarded after
death and the wicked are punished. Again, Philo is not so clear. He
can speak of punishments relating to Hades or Tartarus, but he is
also explicit that “Hades” is a present condition of the wicked be-
cause of the life they live. Whether the soul can be wicked apart from
its union with flesh is a moot point; some passages would suggest that
all souls, once freed from the body, belong to the heavenly sphere.
7. On the surface, neither Philo nor Josephus seems to believe in a
messianic figure. In Philo’s case this seems to be the situation, despite
some prominent interpreters who have argued otherwise. Josephus,
however, despite frequent passages in which he denies messianic sta-
tus to various “rebels” and his interpretation of certain messianic
prophecies as referring to Vespasian, probably did believe in a mes-
siah who would intervene to destroy Rome. He nowhere states this,
but his one reference to Daniel’s prophecies hints at an interpretation
184 lester l. grabbe

in which Rome is destroyed by a stone cut out without hands. If

contemporary prophecies such as 4 Ezra 11-12 are anything to go by,
this “stone” is to be seen as the messiah, an interpretation believed in
by Josephus.

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 III.

THE DEAD SEA SCROLLS

8. DEATH, RESURRECTION, AND LIFE AFTER DEATH IN
THE QUMRAN SCROLLS

Philip R. Davies
University of Sheffield

In the late Second Temple Period, beliefs about the ultimate fate of
the individual were diverse. It is well-known that Josephus, in his
description of the four Jewish “sects” (and supported by Matt. 22:23
and parallels, plus Acts 23:6) notes that the Sadducees did not believe
in the resurrection while the Pharisees did, and the Essenes sub-
scribed to the doctrine of the immortality of the soul (War 2.154:
“...although bodies are corruptible and their matter unstable, souls
are immortal and live for ever...”). Whatever one’s assessment of
Josephus’s reliability and the accommodation of his account to non-
Jewish readers, it is evident that belief in the fate of the individual
after death did not unite Palestinian Jews.
But does Josephus imply that the issue was one that divided differ-
ent “sects” rather than different individuals? If the Qumran scrolls do
not—as is increasingly being thought—uniformly reflect the beliefs
and practices of a single group, then there is no reason a priori to
expect complete conformity in beliefs of this kind. On the other
hand, if the writers of the Qumran scrolls were all, or largely, mem-
bers of a single community, must we assume that they adhered to a
common doctrine in this regard? In any case, while an identification
of the Qumran writers with the Essenes is still widely favored, a
considerable number would dub them as Sadducees (of some kind)!
In all events, was a particular religious belief in the fate of the indi-
vidual after death a dogma? Messianic expectation does not seem to
be consistent in the Scrolls: why afterlife? It is clearly less dangerous
to investigate various texts individually than to attempt to synthesize
across the whole corpus.

Life and Afterlife in the Jewish Scriptures

To understand the sources and premises of beliefs about death and

afterlife in the Qumran scrolls, it is absolutely necessary to remind
190 philip r. davies

ourselves of the teaching of the Jewish Scriptures, with which the

writers of these scrolls were deeply familiar and upon which, in this
instance, they were highly dependent. But it is important to appreci-
ate that the issue of post-mortem existence has two distinct dimen-
sions, both in the Bible and in post-biblical Judaism (including the
Qumran scrolls): the metaphysical and the ethical.

i. Metaphysics
The outlook reflected in virtually the entire corpus of Hebrew Scrip-
ture is that death is the end of human existence. Such an outlook,
however, does not preclude superstition about a continued shadowy
existence in Sheol. This realm was by definition not an extension or
renewal of human life, but its negation. Whether or not Sheol fell
within God’s created order was a matter on which the Scriptures
include differing opinions (cp., Ps. 88; Is. 38:18, etc.; Ps. 139:8 [ET],
Amos 9:2, etc.). But the Hebrew sheol can denote both the area below
the earth where the buried dead reside—a geographical location to
which one might in principle dig down (e.g., Amos 9:2)—and also,
metaphorically/mythologically, any life-threatening circumstances,
such as disease. These two meanings can even be mingled, as when
Jonah, thrown into the sea, approaches both physical death and the
“roots of the mountains,” where the gates of the underworld are to
be found (ch. 2).
Texts in which Yahweh is said to be able to rescue the individual
“from Sheol” are probably examples of the metaphorical usage (e.g.,
Ps. 16:10 [ET]) and express belief in his ability to rescue individuals
from the “clutches of death.” Such statements were nevertheless in-
terpreted in late Second Temple times and onward as expressions of
belief in the power of God to raise from the dead. A similar kind of
difficulty exists, as will be seen, in the Qumran scrolls, where poetic
or metaphorical language may also be employed in dealing with the
topic of afterlife.
Corresponding to the “underworld” of Sheol is the “overworld,”
the heavens, the sky (Heb: shamayim). Here dwell the heavenly beings,
immortal. Just as the realm of Sheol comprises an existence that is
less than human life, so existence in Shamayim is more than human
life. And while the fate of individuals is descent to Sheol, the possibil-
ity of ascent to heaven is also conceivable. Thus Elijah rides upwards
on a chariot (2 Kgs. 2), while Enoch is “taken” by God (Gen. 5:22-
 death, resurrection, and life after death 191

23). Both of these biblical characters could thus be understood to

have become immortal and to be able to return to earth in the future.
But, of course, they are rare exceptions to the rule of universal death.
Nevertheless, once “Sheol” ceases to be seen as a neutral place, ac-
commodating good and wicked alike, and becomes a place of punish-
ment—called Abaddon, or Gehenna, or “the pit”—as was common-
place at the time of writing of the Qumran scrolls, then the heavens
correspondingly invite the righteous, as the place of eternal bliss for
the righteous.

Ethics

The question of the afterlife of Israel is in fact a prominent topic in

the Jewish Scriptures: both the Exodus and return from Exile are
moments of national resurrection. Indeed, the nation is often repre-
sented as an individual, with the result that national and individual
death and revival can be poetically confused. The vision of the valley
of bones in Ezek. 37 is a marvelous example of this, and the poems of
the Servant within Is. 40-55 another. Such passages were, of course,
sometimes understood by later generations as prophecies of the after-
life of individuals. But since we are dealing with personal rather than
corporate ethics in the Scriptures, and personal rather than corporate
survival, it is the so-called “wisdom” literature that requires our at-
tention. The central issue of the wisdom literature of the Hebrew
Bible (Proverbs, Job, Ecclesiastes), ethics, is closely connected to
maintenance of the justice of God. Only in a just world can ethical
behavior be meaningful, and only God, as creator, can guarantee
justice and thus justify the moral life. According to Prov. 8:22-31, the
world was created according to “wisdom,” and thus humans should
live by it, in accordance with both the wish of God and the inherent
order of the world. Morality comes from knowing this moral code
and living by it, and the results of such knowledge and behavior are
material benefits: wealth, progeny, long life, respect. The rewards of
folly are the opposite. The teaching of Proverbs, moreover, tends to
be presented in rather dualistic fashion: there are the wise and the
foolish, the righteous and the wicked, and, accordingly, two kinds of
fate awaiting them.
The thesis that the world is created according to a moral order in
which behavior is recompensed, as a result of the logic of the uni-
192 philip r. davies

verse, by its due, is not sufficiently self-evident to go unchallenged,

even in the Scriptures. The book of Job wrestles with the instance,
not so much of a righteous man suffering, but with the possibility of
disinterested virtue: despite the evidence provided by his circum-
stances, will the human maintain his integrity? As the Satan puts it to
Yahweh: “does Job revere God for nothing?” (1:9). Without the re-
ward, will he be moral? The issue here, of course, is tremendous. Is
morality merely materialism, and virtue merely greed? If so (as the
Satan’s allegation implies), then the created order is not moral. Even
Yahweh’s own moral authority vanishes. He cannot be praised as a
god of justice.
The problem is solved peremptorily and unsatisfactorily by means
of two contradictory conclusions. In the first of these, Yahweh tells
Job that humans cannot understand his ways or, indeed, understand
the true nature of the created world. In the second, Job’s words are
vindicated and his fortunes restored. The ways of God are thus held
to be beyond human knowledge, yet humans should trust in his
justice. The critique of Qohelet moves away from the question of
ethics. For him, personal observation (rather than inherited dogma)
teaches that there is no moral order in the created world: the good
and the bad suffer an equal fate. And that fate, ultimately, is death.
Joy replaces morality as the key to a fulfilled existence, and God
emerges as the provider of human pleasure rather than the guarantor
of vindication to the moral.
It is not hard to understand that from the philosophical-theologi-
cal point of view, such a position as Proverbs maintains is unstable
and was bound to collapse. It may well be that social reasons explain
this too: the world-view of Proverbs suits an elite whose wealth can
be held to justify their moral perfection, but cannot withstand the
challenge of the new elites: the merchants, bankers, traders, and
landed lay aristocracy whose physical and intellectual world was ex-
panded, especially to the Mediterranean world.
The implicit hedonism of a Qohelet (who is to be dated not very
long before the earliest of the Qumran scrolls) may have been
prompted by Greek philosophical thought or perhaps merely by the
individualism characteristic of the Hellenistic age. But he accepts
entirely the premise that the human body, and human existence, end
with death. The meaning of life is circumscribed by the human life-
span, and it is within that lifespan that the justice of God, if it exists
at all, must be exercised. But while Proverbs posits an ethical human
 death, resurrection, and life after death 193

consciously acting according to known or discoverable principles, Job

and Qohelet posit an unknowing human subject to whom the ways of
God are unfathomable. And in this human ignorance lies a challenge
to ethics. It is not surprising that “wisdom” so frequently came to be
identified with Torah (Pss. 1, 119, ben Sira); for if God could not be
known or understood, he could be obeyed, and if obedience is not of
itself ethical, it could become so if motivated by love of God and
delight in performing his will.
Yet while such obedience could be recommended as an end in
itself, the question of theodicy persisted: if goodness is not rewarded,
can God be said to be just? And if obedience to God’s law should
result in persecution, where lies the justice? Obedience to the law was
absolutely imperative in both the Damascus community and the
Yahad. But in neither case was it sufficient. Obedience to the law itself
entailed esoteric interpretation, without which righteousness was im-
possible to attain. The marriage of Torah and wisdom at Qumran is
of a different kind from the equation of ben Sira, or, later, of the
rabbis. It already represents a protean form of gnosticism.

Post-mortem vindication

It is not necessarily true that belief in post-mortem vindication of the

righteous arose simply from the experience of righteous suffering, as
has frequently been asserted in scholarly accounts. Beliefs about hu-
man survival beyond death or eschatological vindication of history
may have infiltrated the thought world of Palestine from Persia and
Greece before any crisis of righteous suffering among Jews. In the
writings collected in 1 Enoch, which seem to originate from about
the third century B.C.E. with the “Astronomical Book” (preserved,
and clearly influential, among the Qumran writings), emerges the
notion of a primordial evil in the universe, emanating from a rebel-
lion of heavenly powers. These, fallen to earth to wreak havoc, will
be vanquished at the end of history. In this scheme, the metaphysical
and ethical converge through the notion of an eschatological judg-
ment in which the good destroy the wicked and enjoy an eternal
reward thereafter.1

1
See Gabriele Boccaccini, Beyond the Essene Hypothesis: The Parting of the Ways between
Qumran and Enochic Judaism (Grand Rapids, 1998).
194 philip r. davies

According to one passage, this reward will also be extended to the

righteous dead (1 Enoch 103:3-4:
For all good things, and joy, and honor are prepared for and written
down for the souls of those who died in righteousness. Many and good
things shall be given to you—the offshoot of your labors. Your lot
exceeds even that of the living ones. The spirits of those who died in
righteousness shall live and rejoice; their spirits shall not perish, nor
their memorial from before the face of the Great One unto all the
generations of the world.2
An important feature of Enoch is the notion of divine election. The
righteous are not those who have chosen virtue but who have been
chosen. Hence, they can also be called the “elect” (58:2-4):
Blessed are you, righteous and elect ones, for glorious is your portion.
The righteous ones shall be in the light of the sun and the elect ones in
the light of eternal life which has no end, and the days of the life of the
holy ones cannot be numbered. They shall seek light and find righteous-
ness with the Lord of the Spirits.
The theological reason behind this pre-election of the righteous may
be as follows. 1 Enoch, together with most apocalyptic writing, is
predicated on the thesis that all history is foreknown, if not predes-
tined, by God. Thus, not only the fate but the identity of the right-
eous and the wicked must also be foreknown. It follows that in a
sense these persons have been chosen. A different kind of reason is
also to be detected: in a time of persecution, to which apocalyptic
writing is particularly appropriate, those suffering must be sustained
not only by the belief in an imminent vindication but also in their
self-belief. The feeling of having been divinely elected characterizes
sectarian groups at all periods, including, as we shall see, those be-
hind many of the Qumran scrolls.
In the book of Daniel, most of which seems focussed on the notion
of final and enduring kingdom of the chosen nation, there is also a
clear statement of survival and vindication of the righteous alongside
punishment for the wicked (12:3):
Many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to
everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt. And
those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky, and those
who turn many to righteousness like the stars, for ever.

2
Translations from 1 Enoch are from by E. Isaac, in J.H. Charlesworth, ed., The
Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, I (New York, 1983).
 death, resurrection, and life after death 195

Unlike Enoch, Daniel speaks of resurrection of bodies, not reviving of

spirits. But it also hints at exaltation to the heavenly realm with its
language of “shining” and “stars.” And, like Enoch, it makes refer-
ence to heavenly books in which the secrets of the future, including
the names of the elect, are written. The possible difference between
Enoch and Daniel over whether the dead are raised bodily (Daniel)
or in spirit (Enoch) is less important, however, than what they share:
a belief that the righteous will live for ever in some (quasi-?) angelic
form3 and a common theological agenda: not only will wickedness
ultimately be removed from the earth, but divine justice will be exer-
cised in respect of the dead. It is also important that both writings
declare this as a divine secret, revealed to privileged mortals. The
reason for this we have already seen: already the scriptural tradition
questioned whether divine justice did operate in respect of individu-
als before their death and also questioned whether the ways of God
could be known from the natural order, whether material or moral.
That God’s justice would be exercised in the future, and retrospec-
tively, but that this was a mystery beyond normal human knowledge,
redeemed God’s justice from human doubt. But it also changed in an
important way the nature of human knowledge. No longer was right-
eousness, as in Proverbs, learned from human wisdom and available
to all who cared to look and learn. It was now an esoteric wisdom,
learned from God and imparted by “those who turn many to right-
eousness”—in Daniel, “those who are wise,” maskilim. With the no-
tion of esoteric knowledge as the key to righteousness, a belief in
eschatological vindication, and the role of a maskil as initiator, we
have arrived at the world of the Qumran scrolls.

Life and afterlife in Qumran sapiential instructions

The Qumran literature emanates from a Judaism or Judaisms di-

rectly descended from that responsible for the Enochic writings and
for Daniel, though possibly from groups whose sectarian conscious-
ness was enforced by a segregated lifestyle.4 The major presupposi-

3
See Luke 20:36 for an even more explicit statement in this regard: “like angels”
(Greek isaggeloi)
4
Philip R. Davies, “Who Can Join the ‘Damascus Covenant’?” in Journal of Jewish
Studies 46, 1995, pp. 134-142.
196 philip r. davies

tions, issues, and solutions bearing upon death and afterlife in the
Qumran scrolls are already present in 1 Enoch and Daniel (and no
doubt in other writings from the period) and have been covered in
the preceding sketch. But there is less than complete agreement or
clarity on the matter of resurrection or the eternity of the soul, or the
identity of the righteous, and in these respects also we shall find
variation with the Scrolls.
We should begin our survey of the Qumran literature with the
Qumran wisdom texts, for here we find the most explicit and literal
treatments of the topics. Several of the quite large number of wisdom
texts from Qumran Cave 4 have recently been published; 5 I shall
address here the most important and most-discussed, 4Q Sapiential
Work A (4Q415-18).6 This is a didactic text that offers advice on how
to relate to fellow-humans and to God. It covers family and social
obligations and economic and agricultural affairs as well as religious
duties. It is also constructed as a series of discrete short sayings inter-
spersed with longer discourses. In this, it retains the structure of the
well-known genre of Instruction (Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, ben Sira).
But where Proverbs would promise in return for the practice of “wis-
dom” material benefits, the wisdom enjoined here carries eschato-
logical rewards. Moreover, the wisdom itself is not the advice of a
parent, or the accumulated experience of human life, as in Proverbs,
but is the content of divinely revealed “mysteries.”
In 4Q416 frag. 2 col. 3:10-15, the one who would be wise must:
Give honor to those who praise you, and glorify his name always
For from poverty he lifted your head and sat you among the nobles
He has given you dominion over a glorious inheritance
Always seek his will
If poor, do not say, “I am poor and cannot search for knowledge”
Discipline yourself and in everything...purify your heart
And your thoughts to much knowledge
Seek out the mystery of how things are (Heb: raz nihyeh)
Consider all the ways of truth and look at all the roots of evil
Then you will know what is bitter for a human and what is sweet
According to this text, God has preordained everything and has for
the righteous the following reward (4Q418 frag. 126, col. 2:2-8):

5
Torleif Elgvin, et al., Qumran Cave 4—XV (Oxford, 1997).
6
Torleif Elgvin, “The Reconstruction of Sapiential Work A.,” in Revue de Qumran
16, 1995, pp. 559-580.
 death, resurrection, and life after death 197

With the scales of justice God measures everything.

He separates in truth
He places them, examines what pleases them...and hides everything
They do not exist without his favor...
His judgment to carry out vengeance on all the wicked.
To imprison the wicked forever and lift up the head of the weak...
With everlasting glory and eternal peace and the spirit of life
While this text divides humans into two camps, membership of the
righteous is achieved not by embracing or rejecting wisdom out of
free will but as a result of divine election. It also provides at some
length details of the judgment coming upon both the righteous and
the wicked. While in the biblical proverbial wisdom, virtue earned its
reward as a natural cause, here virtue and reward are both tied to the
inexorable predetermination of God. Human life is lived under the
shadow of imminent judgment, a judgment that determines the indi-
vidual’s eternal status. The world to come, whatever its form, domi-
nates over the present world. The goal of life, the meaning of life, is
afterlife. And while many of the ethical values of the traditional In-
structional literature are retained—e.g., prudence, modesty, justice—
”wisdom” constitutes esoteric knowledge. The recurrent but enig-
matic phrase raz nihyeh in this document is variously rendered by
modern translators, but it surely connotes the ultimate but hidden
clue to the riddle of existence itself, and especially human existence.7
Whether the Sapiential Work stems from a sectarian community
or not, it belongs to a world in which privileged knowledge is the
mark of salvation and accessible only to the predestined. This is a
sectarian mentality. The function of this mentality in the formation
and sustenance of an organized sectarian community can be seen in
the wisdom discourses that open the Damascus Document.8 The first
discourse in CD (1:1-2;1) opens with an announcement of the com-
ing judgment and addresses the hearers as “You who know righteous-

7
The choice of Wise, Abegg, and Cook is perhaps the most felicitous: “The
Secret of the Way Things Are;” see Michael Wise, Martin Abegg, Jr., and Edward
Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls. A New Translation (San Francisco, 1996), p. 378. Elgvin’s
(“Reconstruction”) “the mystery to come” understands the term to denote the
eschatological judgment. But the point is, at any rate, that for this kind of “wisdom”
the present is indeed characterized by the prospect of an imminent decisive judg-
ment and the eternal consequences.
8
The evidence of the Cave 4 fragments suggests that the text of Cairo manuscript
A was not the only arrangement of the material. In 4Q266 and 4Q267 the opening
discourses of CD were preceded by another discourse. (See Joseph M. Baumgarten,
Qumran Cave 4 (Oxford, 1996).)
198 philip r. davies

ness;” the use of the word “know” is highly significant in indicating

that mere practice of obedience to the law, or indeed normal ethical
behavior, does not constitute “righteousness.” The second discourse
(2:1-14) explains that the wicked, who are to be destroyed without
remnant, were rejected by God from the beginning:
From the beginning God did not choose them. He knew their deeds
before they were created, and hated their generations, and hid his face
from the land until they were destroyed. For he knew the years of their
coming and the length and exact duration of their times for all ages.…
For the wicked, then, no future whatsoever: eternal destruction
awaits them. For the righteous, however, who are, correspondingly,
pre-elected, the future, as declared in the third discourse (2:14-4:12)
is as follows (4:18-20):
But God, in his wonderful mysteries, forgave them their sin and par-
doned their wickedness; and he built for them a “sure house” in Israel,
the like of which has never been from former times until now. Those
who hold fast to it are destined to live for ever and all the glory of Adam
shall be theirs.
Thus, the counterpart of the eternal destruction of the wicked is the
eternal life of the righteous. But whether this eternal life will follow a
revival from death or promises an eternal extension of the present life
is not clear. Reference to the “glory of Adam” points to the belief,
attested in other Adam literature in ancient Judaism, that the first
human was physically and spiritually a giant, the perfect man. He
would seem to provide the prototype of the eternal human body to
be possessed by the righteous, a body that, like Adam’s, was immor-
tal until the placing of the divine curse of death (Gen. 3:19). Just as
God was said to have foreknown the exact deeds and times of the
wicked, so too there follows (4:3-7) a list of the members of the elect
righteous community: “their names according to their generations
and the time when they lived...and the exact list of their deeds.”

The dualistic doctrine of the Yahad

The future fate of the members of the Damascus community is un-

fortunately treated no further in its writings. But a more developed
presentation of its view is found in the famous “Discourse on the
Two Spirits” (1QS 3:13-4:26), which appears to be an unusually
 death, resurrection, and life after death 199

explicit account of the formal instruction given by a/the maskil to the

members of the yahad. In this teaching, we find a more explicit dual-
istic doctrine than in CD and more details as to the fate of the good
and the evil.
According to the beginning of the “Discourse,” the “God of
knowledge” (a telling phrase!) has created two spirits, of good and
evil/light and darkness/truth and falsehood, to rule over humans.
The fate of humans is divinely predetermined, as is the correspond-
ing reward. The reward (“visitation”) for the righteous is (1QS 3:6-8):
health, abundant well-being in a long life, fecundity, permanent bless-
ings, eternal enjoyment with endless life and a crown of glory with
majestic clothing in eternal light.
The catalog begins with the traditional biblical fruits of piety that
accompany the belief in nothing beyond the present life and thus
provide the benefits of earthly existence: long life and health, many
offspring. However, it extends these: the “crown of glory” and “ma-
jestic clothing” suggest not simply a prolongation of earthly life but a
transformation into something quasi-divine, a prospect that is con-
sistent with the outlook of 1 Enoch, Daniel, and the Damascus Docu-
ment. By contrast, according to 1QS, the fate of those destined to be
unrighteous is (1QS 4:12-14):
a multitude of afflictions at the hands of the all the angels of destruc-
tion, everlasting damnation by the vengeful wrath of divine fury, eternal
torment and everlasting shame in the fire of the dark regions. The times
of all their generations shall be spent in bitter mourning and profound
misery and the vicissitudes of darkness, until they are annihilated, with-
out remnant or survivor.
Here we find equally a two-stage fate for the wicked, but, unlike the
case of the righteous, both post-mortem: prolonged torment before
annihilation. The fate of evil is, then, both to be punished and,
subsequently, to be obliterated. For mere destruction does not fit the
requirements of justice that evil be punished, not merely removed. In
this respect 1QS follows Dan. 12, in which some of the wicked were
resurrected for eternal shame. It is worth noting the presence of both
the metaphysical and ethical aspects here: the existence of evil in the
universe created by an all-powerful and good God cannot be envis-
aged indefinitely, so it must be destroyed. But, predestination not-
withstanding, the necessary recompense for good and evil must also
be delivered.
200 philip r. davies

The mechanism of the transition to eternal blessing is, unfortu-

nately for the modern scholar, unspoken. We cannot therefore decide
whether it is the “spirit ” of each person that is expected to be made
eternal (as presumably in 1 Enoch) or the body that is to be resur-
rected (as apparently in Daniel)—or, indeed, a continuation of the
present existence, yet transformed in some way, for the righteous
presently alive, such that they do not experience death. Given the
general reticence about such details in Enoch, Daniel, and the scrolls,
a reasonable conclusion might be that the mechanism for transfor-
mation was assigned to the “mysteries of God” and left for individu-
als to understand as best the teaching given to them allowed. Very
likely, at Qumran as elsewhere in the Greco-Roman world, Jews as
well as non-Jews embraced a variety of beliefs about personal survival
beyond death, involving either soul or body or (frequently) both. 9
But as the discourse progresses, so does the overall picture. For
these “spirits” (ruchoth) appear to become less external agencies than
inner dispositions. According to 4:23-4:
Until now the spirits of truth and falsehood struggle in the hearts of
humans, so that people walk in both wisdom and folly. According to
one’s portion of truth, so does a person hate falsehood; according to
one’s heritage in the realm of falsehood, so one is wicked and hates
truth.
The horoscopic texts (4Q186, 4Q534, 4Q561) demonstrate a belief
in the correspondence of a time of birth (according to zodiacal sign),
physical characteristics, and apportionment of parts of “light” and
“darkness” (each person having a total allotment of nine parts).
Whether or not these crudely-written texts reflect a considered theol-
ogy (but why not?), they show that even the “greyness” of humans
could be considered the result of divine providence, one’s body, date
of birth, and destiny all being under the control of God.
But the result of this changed perception, making all humans a
shade of gray, is that human destiny cannot be divided neatly into
the two categories earlier depicted. There can hardly be one fate for

9
The New Testament offers a similar confusion regarding such mechanisms: the
Gospels make frequent reference to resurrection of the righteous and wicked; the
Fourth Gospel speaks of present possession of eternal life; Paul speaks of a trans-
formed human body distinct from the earthly body. Many Greeks, including Jews
and (presumably Christians) also believed in the immortality of the soul, in which
case death was merely an episode (and sometimes deemed a fortunate one) in the
migration of the soul from the corporeal to the incorporeal world.
 death, resurrection, and life after death 201

“the wicked” and one for “the righteous.” The reward of humans
must therefore be according to a certain measure (1QS 4:16):10
The entire recompense for their deeds shall be, for eternity, according
to whether each person’s portion in the two kinds is great or small
This statement certainly suggests post-mortem survival for all hu-
mans, with eternal punishment and reward meted out on a scale of
retribution. It is particularly unfortunate (if not very surprising) that
the picture is not filled out in more detail. Yet almost immediately it
seems to be modified by a different solution:
God has ordained an end for falsehood, and at the time of the visitation
he will destroy it for ever. Then truth, which has been defiled in wicked
ways during the dominion of falsehood until the decreed time of judg-
ment, shall arise in the world permanently. God will purify every hu-
man deed with his truth; he will refine for himself the human body by
expunging every spirit of falsehood from their flesh. He will cleanse
them of all wicked actions with a spirit of holiness; like purifying water
he will pour a spirit of truth upon them [to remove] all abomination
and falsehood. They shall be immersed in a purifying spirit, so that the
upright shall be instructed in knowledge of the Most High and the
perfect of way be taught the wisdom of the heavenly ones. For God has
chosen them for an eternal covenant and all the glory of Adam shall be
theirs.
From this passage it appears that all traces of falsehood will be re-
moved from humanity and that it will be purified. Such a view is
difficult to reconcile with the earlier strict dichotomy between follow-
ers of the spirits of truth and falsehood and almost as difficult to
reconcile with the immediately preceding suggestion that all will re-
ceive permanently the recompense for their mixture of good and bad.
The suggestion made by P. von der Osten-Sacken11 that there are
distinct literary stages in the composition of this discourse has not
been widely accepted but nonetheless seems attractive. The frag-
ments from Cave 4 do not preserve this section (and probably did not
contain it), leaving it possible to speculate that one or more modifica-
tions have been introduced into an originally strictly dualistic state-
ment that itself was not part of an earlier version of the document.
But how we account for such revisions, or, indeed, if we reject the

10
Probable restorations in Qumran fragments are not marked in my translations
here, unless they are problematic or crucial to the interpretation.
11
P. von der Osten-Sacken, Gott und Belial. Traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zum
Dualismus in den Texten aus Qumran (Göttingen, 1969).
202 philip r. davies

explanation, how we interpret the entire section as a coherent state-

ment of doctrine is far from clear. What we can conclude is that a
search for a clear and consistent view of the fate of humans, both
virtuous and wicked, in the Qumran scrolls is unlikely to be success-
ful. We certainly have some clear lines of thinking and some agreed
presuppositions, most of which reflect the ideas of groups with a
sectarian mentality. The notion of a transformation of the human
body is nevertheless probably the most consistent interpretation of
the various statements we have so far examined. This expectation is
best summed up in the phrase “glory of Adam” that we find in both
CD and 1QS as the goal of righteous humanity.
But there is considerable uncertainty in the texts themselves, as
there must be in the mind of any modern interpreter, over the details
of such a conception or concerning how it may have affected the
practice of the community. For instance, how can the language of
eschatological cleansing just quoted be associated with the preceding
material in 1QS 1-2? Can it be suggested that the members of the
yahad, in entering into its ranks, anticipated that final cleansing by
living a life of purity and thus enjoying in this life some of the fruits
of that eternal life they awaited? Did the members of the yahad regard
their own eternal purity as already attained in their segregated and
holy lifestyle? Those who decline to enter the covenant are con-
demned as follows (1QS 3;2-6):
He shall not be cleansed by acts of atonement, nor purified by purifying
water, nor made holy by sea or rivers, nor sanctified by any ablution.
Unclean, unclean he shall be, as long as he rejects the precepts of God
and is not instructed in the community of his counsel.
But, the passage continues (3:6-9):
By the spirit of true counsel concerning the ways of humanity all his sins
are atoned, so that he can contemplate the light of life. By the spirit of
holiness that unites him to his truth he is cleansed of all his sins and his
iniquity pardoned by a spirit of uprightness and humility. When his
flesh is sprinkled with cleansing water and made holy by purifying water
it shall be made pure by the submission of his soul to all the precepts of
God.
The possibility that, in the Scrolls, the experience of purification of
the human body by a divine holy spirit was experienced as an antici-
pation of a final cleansing will be taken further presently with an
examination of the Hymns scroll.
Remaining discussion of dualism and afterlife can add little posi-
 death, resurrection, and life after death 203

tive to the picture gained. The major dualistic text among the
Qumran manuscripts, the War Scroll (also the most explicit treat-
ment of eschatology), is extremely reticent about the fate of the indi-
vidual. Representing as it does the grafting onto a nationalistic tradi-
tion about Israel’s defeat of the other nations of the world, it
celebrates the final destruction of the forces of evil and a “time of
salvation for the people of God” (1QM 1:5). The “children of light”
will receive “peace and blessing, glory and joy and long life” (1:9). At
one point during the description of the war, the slaying of some
“children of light” is foreseen, “in accordance with God’s mysteries”
(1QM 16:11), but nothing is said about their post-mortem destiny.
This may strike the reader as a significant omission, for the fate of
those righteous who die in battle against the forces of evil is some-
thing one would expect to be addressed by the priest to the troops.
But no: the emphasis is on the eternal glory of Israel (however rede-
fined) and the victory of Israel’s champion Michael.
The focus of the War Scroll is on the earthly victory, and even in
the summary of events in col. 1 there is no description of the lot of
the righteous other than, implicitly, to live in a world in which there
is only good and no evil. A text that has been connected with the
War Scroll (4Q285, with a second copy, 11Q14)12 is a priestly bless-
ing describing a renewed earth in which the produce of the land will
be plentiful, and disease will affect neither crops, animals, nor hu-
mans. The earth will, in other words, be rid of evil. Humans will “eat
and grow fat,” and there will be “no miscarriage nor sickness.” In-
deed, there will be “no wild beasts in your land” (4Q285 fr. 1:7;
11Q14:9-10). Whether or not this blessing belongs with the War
Scroll, its eschatology is consistent with that document’s interest in
continuing life on the earth, ignoring the post-mortem fate of hu-
mans. In this renewed and perfect world, death is not said to be
absent, while the question of afterlife is not raised. But possibly it was
understood as a return to Eden, in which case the “glory of Adam”
might be understood as the (disease-free) condition of humans. We
can, however, only speculate.

12
Bilhah Nitzan, “Benedictions and Instructions for the Eschatological Commu-
nity,” in Revue de Qumran 16, 1993, pp. 70-90.
204 philip r. davies

The anthropology of the Hodayoth

A very distinctive understanding of human nature—or perhaps more

accurately, of the human nature of the author (and his commu-
nity?)—is found in the scroll of hymns from Cave 1 (1QH). The
translation of poetic texts into doctrine is, of course, frequently a
delicate one. But these hymns raise quite acutely the question asked
earlier of whether the afterlife was understood in any Qumran texts
as being in some way anticipated in the present.
No Qumran text speaks more about the nature of the human
body, its limitations, and its reception of divine grace and purifica-
tion. These themes are typically exploited in col. 5.13 Basic to this
hymn (which is typical) is the notion that a mere “spirit of flesh” (line
19) cannot understand the divine mysteries (5:19-24):
What is the spirit of flesh, to understand all these things?
That it should comprehend your great wonderful secret?
What is someone who is born of a woman
Among all your awesome works?
A structure made of dust, kneaded with water
Its basis guilty sin, shameful nakedness, a source of uncleanness
Over whom a spirit of waywardness rules....
Only by your goodness is a human being righteous
And with your many mercies you adorn him with your splendor
Set him amid many delights, with eternal peace and length of days....
What is the destiny of this poor creature? According to 7:19:
You alone have created the just person
For him from the womb, you ordained the period of favor
that he might obey your covenant and walk in all your ways
To bestow upon him your abundant compassion
And open the narrowness of his soul to eternal salvation
And endless, perfect peace
You raise up his glory from flesh....
In 4:15 this is expressed:
You raise for them an everlasting name
Pardoning all their sin
13
Column numbering follows Florentino García Martínez, The Dead Sea Scrolls
Translated (Second Edition: Leiden, 1996), and Geza Vermes, The Complete Dead Sea
Scrolls in English (New York and London, 1997), each following Emile Puech, “Quel-
ques Aspects de la Restauration du Rouleau des Hymnes,” in Journal of Jewish Studies
39, 1988, pp. 38-55. Line numberings follow García Martínez, whose translation
integrates other fragments into the reconstruction.
 death, resurrection, and life after death 205

removing all their wickedness

and bequeath to them the glory of Adam, and long life.
One of the pervasive themes of these hymns is the contrast between
the depravity and weakness of the poet and the wonder of God and
the mystery by which this human has been given knowledge, grace,
and pardon. However, how far this poet gives expression to a belief
in his afterlife is extremely difficult to judge. 11:19-22 is a character-
istic passage in which the psalmist appears to celebrate communion
with the heavenly beings. His life has been saved from Sheol. Should
this language be read as a description of a future experience—antici-
pating a resurrection or revival or survival of death—or as a meta-
phorical description of the state in which he feels himself—liberated
from his frailty and corrupt nature by a divine spirit?
I thank you, Lord
Because you saved my life from the Pit
From Sheol and Abaddon you lifted me up to an eternal height
So that I walk on a limitless plain
And I know that there is hope for one
Whom you have molded from dust
For the everlasting Council
you have cleansed a wicked spirit from great sin
So that he can take his place with the host of Holy Ones
That he may enter into community
With the congregation of the divine beings
You have allotted to humanity an eternal destiny
With the spirits of knowledge....
Similar difficulties of interpretation lie with description of a mighty
assault by Belial and an even more terrifying epiphany of God, per-
haps at the time of final judgment (11:26-36). Here, apocalyptic
manifestations appear: the earth is devoured by fire, death stalks, pits
open, the mountains burn and God thunders, and the battle of the
divine beings rages. Does the poet envisage entering, after such an
eschatological moment, into his eternal heavenly inheritance? Or is
the experience of such communion an existential one, already felt?
Both, of course, are compatible with each other. But it is extraordi-
narily difficult to distil theological doctrine from such highly charged
poetry.
It is possible that col. 13, which also thanks God for saving the
poet’s life “from the Pit,” refers to an actual experience of persecu-
tion or threat. He describes those who “lay in wait for him,” and, in
his distress, he called to God, who “preserved the soul of the poor
206 philip r. davies

one in the den of lions,” “did wonders with the poor,” “placed him in
a crucible...like silver for refining, to be purified seven times.” Here
we meet unmistakable scriptural imagery. But are the experiences
real? Is the poet refashioning the experiences of the Psalms (and of
Daniel!) in the light of personal experience or in the interests of
literary expression? Can one translate poetry into theology?
This question becomes crucial in the case of a statement that
appears to indicate a resurrection (14:29-34):
Then the sword of God will fall quickly at the time of Judgment
And all the children of his truth shall awaken to destroy wickedness
All the children of wickedness shall be no more
The Warrior shall bend his bow; the fortress shall open onto open space
And the eternal gates issue forth weapons of war...
There shall be no refuge for the mighty warriors...
Hoist a banner, o you who lie in the dust
Raise a standard, o you eaten by worms
This language recurs in 19: 9-12:
You have taught them the counsel of your truth
And instructed them in your wonderful mysteries
For your glory, you have purified humanity from sin
So that it can become holy for you
With no unclean abomination or guilty wickedness
To be united with the children of your truth
and in the lot of your Holy Ones
That bodies eaten by worms may be raised from the dust
To the counsel of your truth
And the perverse spirit lifted to knowledge from you
So as to stand before you with the eternal host
And with your holy spirits
To be renewed together with all that lives
and rejoice with those that know.
If this description, taken literally, represents the doctrine of the poet
and his community, it seems to indicate belief in the communion of
both living and dead members of his community (“children of truth”)
with the community of the heavenly beings, presumably at some
moment in the future. That would be, as we have seen, consistent
with other statements in this manuscript and not incompatible with
statements elsewhere. If the living members of the community pass
straight into fellowship with the heavenly host, then it is not unusual
to expect that dead members of that community should enjoy an
equal place. If they are deemed to be dead, they must be raised.
 death, resurrection, and life after death 207

Resurrection in the Qumran Scrolls

Before turning to the question of resurrection in general, we should

note the suggestion of Kvalvaag14 that there is a difference between
the anthropology of the “Two Spirits” discourse in 1QS and the
Hodayoth. In the latter he finds, uniquely among the Qumran scrolls,
a duality of flesh and spirit, the flesh being base, the spirit capable of
purification. Certainly there is such a duality in 1QH, though the
phrase “spirit of flesh” (Heb: ruach basar) is capable of more than one
interpretation. Certainly the insistence of the 1QS passage that with-
out cleansing of the spirit the body cannot be cleansed, and the belief
that God will in the future purge the human body of all wickedness
suggest a unitary view of human nature that points in the direction of
a doctrine of physical resurrection as a precondition of future life for
the defunct. The distinction between flesh and spirit in the Hodayoth,
by contrast—if that distinction can properly be read in these po-
ems—would suggest the possibility of a continuing spiritual existence,
as perhaps implied in the contents of 1 Enoch. Whether or not
Kvalvaag is correct in this instance (and his analysis is plausible), he
is right to point to the possibility of a varying anthropology in the
Scrolls, and in turn this must be considered when dealing with the
question of human death and afterlife.
The raising of the dead is not necessarily to be understood, at
Qumran or anywhere else, as an expectation for all humans. Where
the texts express a belief in an imminent transformation of the world,
to be experienced by those presently alive, the question of resurrec-
tion will apply, if at all, only to those already dead. Given that the
Qumran writings do express the view that the living will be preserved
after death, whether for eternal blessing or eternal damnation (fol-
lowed by extermination), it is likely that their writers considered the
fate of those, especially erstwhile members of a sectarian community,
who had perished already. Here the solution lies either in believing
that their soul is preserved or that they will be raised from the dead.
It is not certain whether the writers of the Qumran scrolls believed
in the possibility of human existence without a body. Certainly, as in
the Jewish scriptures, they understood that a human had a “life” or a

14
Robert W. Kvalvaag, “The Spirit in Human Beings in Some Qumran Non-
Biblical Texts,” in F. Cryer and T.L. Thompson, eds., Qumran between the Old and New
Testaments (Sheffield, 1998), pp. 159-180.
208 philip r. davies

“soul” that dwelt within the body, whether this were merely a divine
breath or something expressing or containing the personality. But the
texts we have reviewed so far suggest that the eternal destiny of the
righteous is to be enjoyed in a new or transformed body.
A belief in the resurrection of dead persons is thus a priori quite
probable. However, as we have seen in the case of the Hodayoth,
passages that might allude to it are hardly frequent or entirely unam-
biguous. Emile Puech has devoted a large study to the future life in
the Scrolls.15 He has assembled a number of Qumran passages that
he thinks might describe resurrection and has concluded that indeed
resurrection was among the beliefs of the Qumran writers. These
writers he holds to have been Essenes and so is able to cite
Hippolytus, according to whom (Refutatio 9:27) the Essenes believed
in the doctrine of the resurrection: “[The Essenes] acknowledge both
that the flesh will rise again and that it will be immortal, in the same
manner that the soul is already imperishable.”
Yet whether Hippolytus is to be relied upon is doubtful. Equally
doubtful is the evidence of the Qumran cemeteries, where an unusual
orientation of some of the graves (the head towards the south) might
be interpreted (Puech does) as reflecting some belief in a resurrection,
since the corpses are laid straight on their backs, ready to stand
facing north. But this form of burial is now known to have been
practiced elsewhere, and not every burial at Qumran assumes this
form. Nothing certain can be deduced from the burials.
The texts themselves are suggestive, but less conclusive than Puech
pretends. There are fragmentary texts in which the phrase “(they)
will rise” can be read,16 but it is impossible to be certain whether
resurrection must be meant here. The clearest allusions are in the
central text of Puech’s thesis, 4Q521, which he entitles “Une Apoca-
lypse Messianique.” The key passages from these texts are fragment
2, col. 2, lines 9-13:
In his mercy he will judge, and the reward of good deeds shall be
withheld from no-one. The Lord will perform wonderful deeds such as
have never been, as he said: for he will heal the wounded, make the
dead live (Heb: wmtym yhyh) proclaim good news to the meek, give
generously to the needy, lead out the captive and feed the hungry....

15
Emile Puech, La Croyance des Ésseniens en la Vie Future: Immortalité, Résurrection, Vie
Éternelle? Histoire d’une Croyance dans le Judaisme Ancien (Paris, 1993), 2 vols.
16
4QTQahat (4Q542) 2:5 says, “you will rise to make judgment,” and 4QPseudo-
Danield also reads: “they shall arise.”
 death, resurrection, and life after death 209

and fragment 5, col. 2, lines 5-8:

And they shall be for death, [when] the Reviver (Heb: hmhyh) [makes]
the dead of his people [ri]se. And we shall give thanks and declare to
you the righteous deeds of the Lord, who [raises?] the dead....
However, Puech points out that this text is full of biblical allusions.
Behind the first passage cited may lie, for example, 1 Sam. 2:6: yhwh
mmyt wmhyyt mwryd sh’wl wyy‘l: “Yhwh causes to die and causes to live;
he sends down to Sheol and brings up.” It is possible that this biblical
phrase is intended as an allusion to resurrection, even though most
commentators hold this unlikely: it is also possible that the phrase
was not so intended but was understood in that way by the writer of
the Qumran text. But it is also possible that the phrase refers to
Yahweh’s power to rescue from disease, from the act of dying, from
the power of mortality. In the second of the passages quoted, it is
really not clear that the text must be restored in the way Puech does,
though the conjunction “dead of his people” may well appear to
suggest such.
Puech argues at some length that there is evidence for a belief in
resurrection in the Hebrew Bible and in post-biblical but pre-Qum-
ranic compositions. But this demonstration, of course, only attests the
possibility of such a belief among the Qumran writers, and, if Phari-
sees accepted resurrection while Sadducees rejected it, we are left
with only the Qumran texts to tell us whether their writers expressed
such a belief. It is perhaps significant that such beliefs are nowhere
stated in an unambiguous manner, explicitly in an eschatological
scenario or in a hymn or wisdom discourse. It is this that prompts
doubt among many Qumran scholars. But the question must be left
open.

Conclusion

We cannot (unlike Puech) assign the Qumran scrolls with any cer-
tainty to any one identifiable Jewish group, nor even to a single sect.
It remains disputed how far this archive represents the considered
views, or indeed, the property, of one group. Consequently, it is
inadvisable to seek a clear and consistent expression of belief in the
nature of afterlife. Indeed, there seem to be variations in the under-
standing of human nature itself.
210 philip r. davies

In any case, such beliefs are quite often held, wherever they may
be, with some reticence and expressed with vagueness. Where they
appear to be addressed at Qumran, the language is often poetic. In
the clearest statements of belief that we find, in the Community Rule
and Damascus Document and the wisdom discourses, as well as in the
account of the final war in the War Scroll, there is no statement of a
doctrine of resurrection and no consensus about the precise nature of
the final state of the righteous. Since contemporary Jewish groups
disagreed on this notion, it is possible that whatever the group beliefs,
individuals continued to cherish their own preference. In respect of
dead relatives and friends, individuals often believe what they are not
supposed to according to their religious affiliation. If ex-Sadducees
and ex-Pharisees ever entered this community, it is hard to imagine
that they abandoned their views on human nature or their own pros-
pects after death. If the Qumran community/communities had firm
beliefs about the coming of the eschaton in their own day, the ques-
tion of how exactly they would continue to live was not of very great
significance, and the manner in which the dead might be rewarded
less important than the conviction that somehow they must.
For there is, on the other hand, a belief in the Scrolls that all
human behavior, preordained by God, is to receive its just deserts.
This will happen when all humans are judged at the “end of days.”
This judgment is preordained: those to be saved and those to be
destroyed are known to God before they are even created. Evil will
finally be defeated and good will prevail for eternity. The righteous
can expect an eternity of light, peace and joy, together with the
inhabitants of heaven. They will be endowed with the “glory of
Adam.”
Given these theological premises, the belief that the righteous dead
would share in the rewards must have followed, as well as the expec-
tation that these rewards would be enjoyed in a renewed body. This
view of the fate of all humans is clearly in line with the positions
taken in literature that we know to have been influential in the Qum-
ran texts, especially 1 Enoch and Daniel. On balance, it does not
seem improbable that whoever lived at Qumran expected to be
joined on the imminent day of judgment by their dead fellows in the
nearby cemetery, all to share an eternal life with the heavenly beings.
 death, resurrection, and life after death 211

Bibliography

Baumgarten, Joseph M., Qumran Cave 4 (Oxford, 1996).

Boccaccini, Gabriele, Beyond the Essene Hypothesis: The Parting of the Ways be-
tween Qumran and Enochic Judaism (Grand Rapids, 1998).
Davies, Philip R., 1QM, The War Scroll from Qumran (Rome, 1977).
Davies, Philip R., “Who Can Join the ‘Damascus Covenant’?” in Journal of
Jewish Studies 46, 1995, pp. 134-142.
Elgvin, Torleif, “The Reconstruction of Sapiential Work A.,” in Revue de
Qumran 16, 1995, pp. 559-580.
Elgvin, Torleif., et al., Qumran Cave 4—XV (Oxford, 1997).
García Martínez, Florentino, The Dead Sea Scrolls Translated (Second Edition:
Leiden, 1996).
Kvalvaag, Robert W., “The Spirit in Human Beings in Some Qumran Non-
Biblical Texts,” in Cryer, F., and T.L. Thompson, eds., Qumran between
the Old and New Testaments (Sheffield, 1998), pp. 159-180.
Nitzan, Bilhah, “Benedictions and Instructions for the Eschatological Com-
munity,” in Revue de Qumran 16, 1993, pp. 70-90.
Osten-Sacken, P. von der, Gott und Belial. Traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen
zum Dualismus in den Texten aus Qumran (Göttingen, 1969).
Puech, Emile, La Croyance des Ésseniens en la Vie Future: Immortalité, Résurrection,
Vie Éternelle? Histoire d’une Croyance dans le Judaisme Ancien (Paris, 1993), 2
vols.
Puech, Emile, “Quelques Aspects de la Restauration du Rouleau des
Hymnes,” in Journal of Jewish Studies 39, 1988, pp. 38-55.
Vermes, Geza, The Complete Dead Sea Scrolls in English (New York and Lon-
don, 1997).
Wise, Michael, Martin Abegg, Jr., and Edward Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls. A
New Translation (San Francisco, 1996).
 IV.

EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY
 9. RESURRECTION IN THE GOSPELS

Bruce Chilton
Bard College

Jesus

Jesus pictured life with God as involving such a radical change that
ordinary human relationships would no longer prevail. That convic-
tion of a radical change brought with it a commitment to the lan-
guage of eschatology, of the ultimate transformation God both prom-
ised and threatened; although Jesus’ eschatology was sophisticated,
his development of that idiom of discourse is evident.1 Some efforts
have been made recently to discount the eschatological dimension of
Jesus’ teaching; they have not prevailed. Periodically, theologians in
the West have attempted to convert Jesus’ perspective into their own
sense that the world is a static and changeless entity, but that appears
to have been far from his own orientation.2
In respect of the discussion of the general orientation of Jesus’
theology, nothing that has been asserted so far can be regarded as
exceptionable. Consensus is much more difficult to come by when it
concerns Jesus’ understanding of what is to occur to particular human
beings within God’s disclosure of his kingdom. Resurrection, as usually
defined, promises actual life to individual persons within God’s global
transformation of all things. Because Jesus, on a straightforward read-
ing of the Gospels, does not say much about resurrection as such,
there has been a lively dispute over whether he had any distinctive
(or even emphatic) teaching in that regard.
Still, when Jesus does address the issue, his contribution seems to
be unequivocal. Sadducees are portrayed as asking a mocking ques-
tion of Jesus, designed to disprove the possibility of resurrection.3

1
See Chilton, Pure Kingdom. Jesus’ Vision of God (Grand Rapids, 1996).
2
See Chilton, The Kingdom of God in the Teaching of Jesus (London and Philadelphia,
1984). For discussion since that time, and particularly the contribution of Marcus
Borg, see Pure Kingdom.
3
Acts 23:8 makes out that the Sadducees deny resurrection altogether, and that is
also the judgment of Josephus. I have argued that, despite their unequivocal state-
216 bruce chilton

Because Moses commanded that, were a man to die childless, his

brother should raise up a seed for him, suppose there were seven
brothers, the first of whom was married. If they all died childless in
sequence, whose wife would the woman be in the resurrection (see
Mat. 22:23-28; Mark 12:18-23; Luke 20:27-33)?
Jesus’ response is categorical and direct (following Mark 12:24-27,
compare Mat. 22:29-32; Luke 20:34-38):
You completely deceive yourselves, knowing neither the Scriptures nor
the power of God! Because when they arise from the dead, they neither
marry nor are given in marriage, but are as angels in the heavens. But
concerning the dead, that they rise, have you not read in the book of
Moses about the bush, when God said to him, I am the God of
Abraham and the God of Isaac and the God or Jacob? He is not God
of the dead but of the living. You deceive yourselves greatly.
Of the two arguments, the one from Scripture is the more immedi-
ately fitting, an appeal both to the nature of God and to the evalua-
tion of the patriarchs in early Judaism. If God identifies himself with
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, it must be that in his sight they live. And
those three patriarchs—once we join in this analogical reflection—
are indeed living principles of Judaism itself; they are Israel as chosen
in the case of Abraham (see Gen. 15), as redeemed in the case of
Isaac (see Gen. 22), and as struggling to identity in the case of Jacob
(see Gen. 32). That evocation of patriarchal identity is implied, rather
than demonstrated, but the assumption is that the hearer is able to
make such connections between the text of Scripture and the
fulfillment of that Scripture within present experience. 4 But that im-
plicit logic of the argument from Scripture only makes the other
argument seem all the bolder by comparison.
The direct analogy between people in the resurrection and angels
is consonant with the thought that the patriarchs must live in the

ments (or rather, precisely because they are so unequivocal), we should be cautious
about what the Sadducees denied; see my The Temple of Jesus. His Sacrificial Program
within a Cultural History of Sacrifice (University Park, 1992), p. 82. The Sadducees’
position is attributed to them only by unsympathetic observers, Josephus (War 2
§165-166), and various Christians (Mark 12:18-27; Matt. 22:23-33; Luke 20:27-38;
Acts 23:6-8). And Targumic texts as late as the Middle Ages continue to refer to the
denial of resurrection within the dispute between Cain and Abel developed at Gen.
4:8.
4
For Jesus’ characteristic attitude towards Scripture, see Chilton, A Galilean Rabbi
and His Bible. Jesus’ Use of the Interpreted Scripture of His Time (Wilmington, 1984); also
published with the subtitle, Jesus’ Own Interpretation of Isaiah (London, 1984).
 resurrection in the gospels 217

sight of God, since angels are normally associated with God’s throne
(so, for example, Dan. 7:9-14). So once the patriarchs are held to be
alive before God, the comparison with angels is feasible. But Jesus’
statement is not only a theoretical assertion of the majesty of God, a
majesty which includes the patriarchs (and, by extension, the patri-
archs’ comparability to the angels); it is also an emphatic claim of
what we might call divine anthropology. Jesus asserts that human
relations, the usual basis of human society and divisions among peo-
ple (namely sexual identity), are radically altered in the resurrection.5
That claim of substantial regeneration and transcendence became a
major theme among the more theological thinkers who followed Je-
sus, beginning with Paul.
But before we turn to Paul, the first great interpreter of Jesus, we
need to address a preliminary question: how is it that Jesus’ position
in regard to the resurrection is only spelled out in one passage within
the Gospels? A general explanation might be offered in this regard,
but it is only partially satisfactory. The intents of the Synoptic Gos-
pels, on the one hand, and of the Fourth Gospel, on the other hand,
are quite different. The Synoptics are designed in the interests of
catechesis, for the preparation of proselytes for baptism, while the
Gospel according to John is homiletic. What was in all probability
the original ending of John states the purpose as maintaining the
faith of believers so that they might go on to have life in the name of
Christ (John 20:31), while the introduction to Luke speaks of the
things that the reader has only recently learned (Luke 1:1-4, and the
verb is katêkheo ).6 In between the initial preparation of catechumens
5
It is commonly asserted that Jesus accorded with accepted understandings of
resurrection within Judaism; see Pheme Perkins, Resurrection. New Testament Witness and
Contemporary Reflection (London, 1984), p. 75. That is an unobjectionable finding, but
it leads to an odd conclusion: “Nor can one presume that Jesus makes any significant
contribution to or elaboration of these common modes of speaking.” Perkins is not
clear about what she means here or the basis of her assertion. Does warning the
reader against presuming that Jesus had something original to say imply that he in
fact said nothing original? Why speak of presumption at all, when there is an actual
saying to hand? But the analysis of the saying is also confused, because Perkins
speaks of it as invented by Mark when it has anything new to say and as routine
insofar as it may be attributed to Jesus. The discussion typifies the ill-defined pro-
gram of trivializing the place of Jesus within the tradition of the New Testament by
critics who once tended to exaggerate the literary aspirations of those who composed
the documents.
6
For further discussion of the relationship between John and the Synoptics in
terms of their social functions, see Chilton, Profiles of a Rabbi. Synoptic Opportunities in
Reading about Jesus (Atlanta, 1989).
218 bruce chilton

and the advanced interpretation offered to those well beyond that

point, a great deal of instruction naturally took place.
The Lord’s Prayer provides a stunning example of the kind of
teaching that may have fallen in between initial catechesis and homi-
letics in some communities. John’s Gospel contains no version of the
Prayer, presumably because it is assumed as elementary knowledge.
But then, Mark’s Gospel also omits it, but for a different reason: the
assumption is that oral instruction, apart from public catechesis, is to
complement what the catechumen learns from the Gospel. The Prayer
is by no means advanced knowledge; after all, the catechumen will
have to learn to say ‘Abbá at baptism (see Gal. 4:6; Rom. 8:15), and
to know what that means. Yet were our knowledge of Jesus and early
Christianity limited to Mark and John among the Gospels, we would
not be aware of the Prayer or of its importance within the teaching of
Jesus and the practice of his movement.
Teaching in regard to the resurrection may be held to belong
more to an intermediate level of instruction within early Christianity
than to a preparatory or advanced level. After all, Mark’s Gospel
relates no story of the appearance of the risen Jesus, but only the
narrative of the empty tomb (Mark 16:1-8). The silence of the
women at the tomb is the last word in the Gospel, and it is an
approving word. The Markan community is thereby instructed to
maintain reserve in the face of persecution. But it is very clear what
that reserve is about: the young man at the tomb (Mark 16:6, 7) and
Jesus himself at an earlier stage (Mark 8:31; 9:9, 31; 10:33, 34) leave
no doubt that the full disclosure of Jesus’ identity lies in his resurrec-
tion. As the Markan catechumen approaches the Paschal Mystery,
when baptism will occur and full access to eucharist will be extended
for the first time, the door to the truth of Jesus’ resurrection is opened
in the Gospel, but actual entry to that truth awaits further (perhaps
private) instruction.7
But the analogy between the handling of the resurrection of Jesus
in the Gospels and the handling of the Lord’s Prayer is only partial.

7
To this extent, the so-called “Secret Gospel of Mark” that Morton Smith iden-
tified and popularized may provide an insight into the post-catechetical moment in
early Christianity. But, of course, the controversy concerning that work does not
permit any conclusions to be drawn on the basis of Smith’s contribution alone. See
James H. Charlesworth and Craig A. Evans, “Jesus in the Agrapha and Apocryphal
Gospels,” in B. Chilton and C.A. Evans, eds., Studying the Historical Jesus. Evaluations of
the State of Current Research (Leiden, 1994), pp. 479-533, 526-532.
 resurrection in the gospels 219

First, the apparent lack of Mark is made up by Matthew (6:9-13) and

Luke (11:2-4), and together those Gospels provide a cogent represen-
tation of the model of prayer that Jesus taught, a model that is not
without echo in the Gospels according to Mark and John.8 Second,
the resurrection of Jesus is actually introduced as a topic in Mark,
only then to be omitted at the end of the Gospel. When that lacuna
is made up in Matthew, Luke, and John (as well as in the artificial
ending provided Mark itself in many manuscripts), the result is a
series of stories whose cogency does not approach that of the Lord’s
Prayer in Matthew and Luke.
So it will not do to try to invoke a general explanation, in terms of
the level of instruction involved, to account for the absence or the
discordance of stories of Jesus’ resurrection and for the relative pau-
city of Jesus’ own teaching regarding resurrection within the Gospels.
Rather, there seems to have been a deliberate policy of esotericism in
this regard. To some extent, the silence of the women in Mark is an
index of this policy, and the atmospheric possibility of persecution for
belief in the name of Jesus that their silence doubtless reflects offers
(once again) a partial explanation for the counsel of silence. But all of
these explanations that involve the happenstance of history—the
educational pitch of the Gospels, the esoteric practice of early Chris-
tianity, the pressures exerted by the possibility of persecution for
belief in Jesus’ resurrection—do not account for the qualitative differ-
ence in the manner of handling the resurrection as compared, say, to
the Lord’s Prayer. And after all: the resurrection of Jesus is on any
known reading the most obviously distinctive element in Christian
teaching: how can there be a lack of cogency in providing for instruc-
tion on this point within the Gospels?
Together with those explanations, which may be characterized in
terms of their reference to extrinsic circumstances, we must consider
the intrinsic structure of belief in Jesus’ resurrection as received and
practiced within early Christianity. Something about the way belief
in the resurrection was structured within the social and historical
environment that has already been described produced the apparent
lacuna and the evident discrepancies we have referred to within the
textual tradition and what produced that tradition. Mark is a good
initial guide to the complexity of that structure. The young man at

8
See Chilton, Jesus’ Prayer and Jesus’ Eucharist. His Personal Practice of Spirituality
(Valley Forge, 1997).
220 bruce chilton

the tomb tells the women to tell the disciples and Peter that Jesus
goes before them into Galilee and that they will see Jesus there (Mark
16:7). That is, Peter is identified as the central named witness to
Jesus’ resurrection, but then no actual appearance to Peter is con-
veyed. Instead, the Gospel ends.
“The Lord has risen, and has appeared to Simon” (Luke 24:34) is
the acclamation—widely recognized as primitive (compare 1 Cor.
15:5)—which Luke alone relates, but here again, no actual story is
attached to this statement. Instead, Luke then gives us, in addition to
a recognizable but distinctive narrative of the empty tomb (Luke
24:1-12), the story of Jesus’ appearance to the two disciples who were
on their way to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35). That story emphasizes that
Jesus was not instantly recognizable to the disciples, and he disap-
pears once they finally do recognize him in Emmaus itself; the theme
is explicitly given as Jesus’ manifestation in the breaking of bread (v.
35), which occurs in the evidently liturgical context of the reminis-
cence of Jesus and the interpretation of Scripture (vv. 18-27). So
alongside the narrative of the empty tomb, which anticipates that
Jesus’ resurrection involves the physical body that was buried, there is
a story that portrays the resurrection in straightforwardly visionary
and eucharistic terms: Jesus is seen, but not recognized, then recog-
nized, but no longer seen. The conflict with the story of the empty
tomb is manifest, and all the more so as it is actually referred to by
Kleopas in what he says to the stranger who turns out to be the risen
Jesus (vv. 22-23).
Luke’s Gospel is designed to resolve that conflict to some extent.
Its design is reflected in the way the Gospel smoothes out the
problem that would have been caused by telling the disciples to go to
Galilee (as in Mark), since the risen Jesus appears only in the vicinity
of Jerusalem in Luke. Instead, Luke’s two men (rather than one
young man) remind the women of what Jesus said when he was in
Galilee (Luke 24:4-8). That enables the focus to remain Jerusalem,
where the appearance to Simon occurred and in whose vicinity the
disclosure of the risen Jesus was experienced in the breaking of bread.
In that same Jerusalem itself, finally (never Galilee in Luke), Jesus
appears in the midst of the disciples in the context of another meal
(also associated with the interpretation of Scripture and the recollec-
tion of Jesus), and shows them that he is flesh and bone, not spirit.
He commissions them, instructing them to remain in Jerusalem until
the power to become witnesses comes upon them. Leading them out
 resurrection in the gospels 221

to Bethany, he is taken up to heaven while he is in the act of blessing

them (Luke 24:36-52). This final appearance in Luke fulfills the ex-
pectations raised by the empty tomb and is a triumph of harmoniza-
tion: Jesus not only says he is flesh and bone, he shows his hands and
his feet, offers to be touched, asks for food and eats it (vv. 38-43). Yet
this physical emphasis is also synthesized with the visionary and litur-
gical idiom of what happened near and at Emmaus. But in all of this,
interestingly, there is silence regarding Peter’s experience.
Matthew returns the focus to Galilee, and to Galilee alone, as the
locus of the risen Jesus. Here Jesus himself actually encounters the
women as they run to tell the disciples what the angel has said, and
he tells them to instruct his brothers to go to Galilee (Mat. 28:10).
The reference to “brothers” at this point, rather than to “disciples”
(cf., 28:7), is apparently deliberate; the angel speaks to the women of
disciples, while Jesus is adding an injunction for a distinct group.
After the story about the guard and the high priests (Mat. 28:11-15),
however, the last passage in the Gospel according to Matthew, the
appearance of Jesus in Galilee, concerns only the eleven disciples.
They see, worship (and doubt), receiving the commission to baptize
all nations in the knowledge that Jesus is always with them. In its own
way, and centered in Galilee rather than in Jerusalem, Matthew
achieves what Luke achieves: the appearances of the risen Jesus are
visionary (and almost abstract), but the explanation of that vision is
that his body was raised. The experience of the earthquake and the
angel by the guards and their willingness to broadcast the lie (con-
cocted by high priests and elders) that Jesus’ body had been stolen
(Mat. 28:2-4, 11-15), underscores that explanation. What remains
startling about Matthew is the complete absence of direct reference
to Peter in this context (compare Mat. 28:7 to Mark 16:7), although
Peter is singled out for special treatment in the same Gospel (see Mat.
16:17-19).
Matthew’s silence regarding Peter and Luke’s laconic reference to
the tradition that he was the first to have the Lord appear to him
calls attention to the structural oddity in testimony to Jesus’ resurrec-
tion in the New Testament. Simon Kephas/Peter is held to be the
fountainhead of this faith (as in 1 Cor. 15:5), but the Synoptic Gos-
pels simply do not convey a tradition of the appearance to Peter in
particular. John’s Gospel puts Peter and the other disciple whom
222 bruce chilton

Jesus loved at the site of the empty tomb.9 The other disciple is said
to have seen the tomb and to have believed, but Peter only sees (John
20:1-10). Mary Magdalene then sees two angels and Jesus but does
not recognize him at first and is forbidden to touch him: her commis-
sion is to tell the brothers that he goes to the father (John 20:11-18).
Likewise, Jesus’ commission at this point is simply to go to the father,
which presupposes—as Benoit points out—that in what follows any
descent from the father is only for the purpose of appearing to the
disciples.10 Commissioning is the purpose of Jesus in what follows. He
appears among the disciples when the doors were shut for fear of the
Jews and provides holy spirit for forgiving and confirming sins (John
20:19-23).11 During the appearance, he shows his hands and his side
in order to be recognized (20:20), which he does again in a second
appearance, this time for the benefit of Thomas, and with the offer to
touch his hands and his side (John 20:24-29). Obviously, the coalesc-
ing of the empty tomb and the visionary appearances has continued
in John, but the problem of Simon Peter has not so far been resolved.
That resolution comes in the close of the present text of John,
which is widely considered an addendum or annex (John 21). 12 Here,
Peter and six other disciples are fishing on the sea of Galilee, and

9
Luke 24:12 puts Peter alone there. For a defense of that tradition as historical,
see Pierre Benoit, Passion et résurrection du Seigneur (Paris, 1985), pp. 288-290. But
Benoit’s attempt to make John’s Gospel the nearest point to the fountainhead of such
traditions is not convincing. John rather seems to aggregate the elements already
present within the Synoptic Gospels. Mark’s young man becomes the other disciple,
Luke’s reference to Peter’s presence at the tomb is expanded, Matthew’s description
of Jesus’ manifestation to the women is turned into a private appearance to Mary
Magdalene, Luke’s tradition of appearances to the disciples in Jerusalem during
meals is honored with a cognate emphasis on both visionary and physical aspects,
and Matthew’s localization (together with Mark’s promise) of such an event, also
with much less physical emphasis and in Galilee, is also respected.
10
Benoit, p. 291. He goes on to suggest that the return of Jesus after this point
must be “totally spiritualized, in particular in the Eucharist.” That suggests the
extent to which the Gospel has shifted idioms within its presentation of the resurrec-
tion. He deals with the story of what happened near Emmaus in much the same way,
pp. 297-325.
11
An evident echo of Matt. 16:17-19, the placement of which here serves to
highlight Peter’s importance within the tradition of the resurrection, without actually
solving the problem that, by the implication of John 20:6-9, Peter saw the empty
tomb but did not believe as the other disciple did. John 21 will return to the question
of Peter, reflecting an awareness that his place within what has been said has not yet
been resolved.
12
See Benoit, pp. 327-353.
 resurrection in the gospels 223

Jesus appears on the shore unrecognized, asking if they have any-

thing to eat. They have not caught anything all night, but at Jesus’
command they cast their net and catch more fish than they can pull
up. The disciple whom Jesus loves recognizes Jesus and informs Peter
who the stranger is. Peter leaps into the water and swims to shore,
followed by the others in the boat. Jesus, whose identity none dares to
ask, directs the preparation of breakfast from the one hundred and
fifty three large fish that were caught. Finally, Peter himself is com-
missioned to shepherd the flock of Jesus.
Although this third appearance of the risen Jesus in John is the
only appearance that features Peter,13 the allusions to baptism and
the direction of the church make it clear that it is far from the sort of
tradition that would have been formed in any immediate proximity
to Peter’s experience. Still, one feature stands out. As in the story of
what happened near and at Emmaus (which holds the place of an
appearance to Peter in Luke), Jesus is not immediately known; his
identity is a matter of inference (see John 21:7, 12 and Luke 24:16,
31). This, of course, is just the direction in which all of the Gospels
are not headed by their structuring of traditions. They anticipate an
instantly recognizable Jesus, fully continuous with the man who was
buried: that is the point of the story of the empty tomb in all four
Gospels.
Their insistence on the physical continuity of the buried and risen
Jesus is reflected in the way they present other stories. Jesus raises to
life the son of the widow of Nain (Luke 7:11-17), the daughter of
Jairus (Mat. 9:18-19, 23-26; Mark 5:21-24, 35-43; Luke 8:40-42, 49-
56), and Lazarus (11:1-46). An excellent study has shown that all of
these stories represent the conviction that Jesus’ resurrection prom-
ised the resurrection of the faithful. 14 But that connection also worked
the other way: expectations of how the resurrection was to happen
generally influenced the presentation of how the risen Jesus ap-
peared. When Paul insisted that “flesh and blood can not inherit the
kingdom of God” (1 Cor. 15:50), he was not opposing an abstract

13
It has been argued that the Gospel of Peter represents a more primitive tradition,
but the fact is that the text incorporates elements from the canonical Gospels. It
appears to be a pastiche, much in the vein of the longer ending of Mark. See
Charlesworth and Evans, pp. 503-514.
14
See Gérard Rochais, Les récits de résurrection des mort dans le Nouveau Testament
(Cambridge, 1981).
224 bruce chilton

proposition.15 Indeed, it would seem on the face of the matter to

contradict the statement in 1 Thes. 4:13-18 that the dead will be
raised and presented with the living, snatched up into the air for that
purpose, so as always to be with the Lord. That literally physical
belief in the general resurrection, which has been styled apocalyptic, 16
influenced the portrayal of Jesus’ resurrection and is most manifest in
the story of the empty tomb.
Within his discussion of 1 Cor. 15:50 in its wider context, Peter
Carnley concludes with a telling insight:
It is clear that Paul is struggling imaginatively to explain the nature of
the resurrection body. This suggests that, whatever his Damascus road
experience was, it was sufficiently ambiguous and unclear as not to be
of real help in explaining the detailed nature of the body of the resurrec-
tion. The evidence thus leads us back to the view that his initial experi-
ential encounter with the raised Christ was in the nature of some kind
of “heavenly vision”. The fact that the nature of the body of the resur-
rection seems to have been open to speculation indicates that this was
indeed a speculative matter that was brought up rather than settled by
the encounter with the raised Jesus on the Damascus road. 17
Carnley goes on the analyze the appearance of Jesus in Matthew in
similar terms, and he points out that Acts 26:19 formally describes
Paul’s encounter with the risen Jesus as a “heavenly vision.”18
Carnley does not observe that Paul himself claimed he had “seen our
Lord Jesus” (1 Cor. 9:1) and included himself in the record of those
to whom the Jesus “appeared” (1 Cor. 15:8, cf., v. 5). But those
citations only strengthen Carnley’s overall point, that vision is the
fundamental category within which the initial experience of Jesus as
risen was apprehended (p. 245).19 The narrative of the empty tomb,
a relatively late tradition within the Gospels (as the consensus of
scholarship would have it), functions to explain the theophany of the

15
In this case, Paul is stating something with which his readers would have
agreed. The disagreement with some in Corinth is not over whether there is to be a
resurrection but what resurrection is to involve. See A.J.M. Wedderburn, Baptism and
Resurrection. Studies in Pauline Theology against Its Graeco-Roman Background (Tübingen,
1987), pp. 35-36. Given Paul’s form of words in 1 Cor. 15:29, the tendency to make
any disagreement about resurrection into a denial is evident (cf., n. 3 above).
16
Rochais, 187. See also Kenneth Grayston, Dying, We Live. A New Enquuiry into the
Death of Christ in the New Testament (New York, 1990), p. 13.
17
Peter Carnley, The Structure of Resurrection Belief (Oxford, 1987), p. 233.
18
Carnley, pp. 237-238.
19
Similarly, see Francis Schüssler Fiorenza, Foundational Theology. Jesus and the
Church (New York, 1984), pp. 35-37.
 resurrection in the gospels 225

risen Jesus, although in itself it is not a theophany.20 That is why John

20:6-9 can put Simon Peter on the site of the empty tomb and yet
not attribute belief in the resurrection of Jesus to him.
Care should be taken, however, not to globalize the language of
vision in our description in Acts of what Paul did or did not see on
the road to Damascus. In chapter 9, those around Paul hear the
voice but see nothing (Acts 9:7): the light blinds Paul, which is what
brings him to Ananias and baptism (Acts 9:3-18). In chapter 22, Paul
is quoted as saying his companions saw the light but did not hear the
voice (22:9), and that may be consistent with the sense of what he
says later (Acts 26:12-18). A hasty reference to the materials of vision
in Acts has lead to the suggestion that the resurrection was an expe-
rience of a heavenly light (Lichtglanz).21 The portrayal of Paul’s vision
of the risen Jesus in Acts surely warns us away from reducing the
experience to a single sensation and rather emphasizes the impor-
tance of being in the presence of one identified as Jesus who commis-
sions the recipient of the vision to a divine purpose. The “vision” or
“appearance,” so designated because the verbal usage “he appeared”
(ôphthê ) is preferred in the New Testament, involves the awareness—
mediated by a variety of senses and apprehensions—that Jesus is
indeed present to one, and present so as to convey a divine impera-
tive.
Those twin emphases, the identity of Jesus and the commissioning,
underlie all stories of the actual appearance of the risen Jesus (and are
not present in the later narrative of the empty tomb). In his recent
study, Francis Schüssler Fiorenza has shown that the appearances of
Jesus in the New Testament serve neither to console people generally
about immortality nor to make an abstract point about God’s
eschatological victory.22 Rather, “in almost all the stories the identity
motif is present because even in appearances to the group he is either
not recognized or recognized only with doubt and suspicion, so that
he must confirm his identify before commissioning them.”23

20
That statement is only accurate, of course, if the qualifying statement (“in
itself”) is observed. As soon as the young man or men are taken as angels, and more
especially when the risen Jesus himself appears on the scene, the story of the empty
tomb becomes theophanic. But the bulk of scholarship, and simple common sense,
evaluates those elements as embellishments.
21
For a suitably cautious assessment, see Carnley, pp. 240-242.
22
Foundational Theology, p. 45.
23
Foundational Theology, p. 37.
226 bruce chilton

That insight, which conforms with the analysis here, comports

with Paul’s capacity to claim that he has seen the Lord (1 Cor. 9:1)
and at the same time to refer to that moment as when it pleased God
to reveal his son in him (Gal. 1:15-16). The conviction of divine
presence, identified with Jesus and inciting to a commission, defines
the content of the experience that he had been raised from the dead.
That definition does justice to the narratives of Jesus’ appearance in
the Gospels, to Paul’s experience, and to the appearance to James as
given in the Gospel to the Hebrews.24 In the last case, James is informed
by Jesus that he, as son of man, has risen from the dead. In that
instance as well as in the others, the language of effective personal
presence more accurately conveys the scene than does the language
of vision. “Vision,” we might conclude, is the overall category of
experience in which our sources would place the resurrection of Je-
sus, but the experience was of his effectively divine and personal
presence after his death.
Jesus’ own teaching involved a refusal to grant an assumption of
physical resurrection, the continuity of sexual relationships, and in so
doing disappointed the expectations raised by the story of the empty
tomb, as well as the stories of the raisings of the son of the widow of
Nain, of Jairus’ daughter, and of Lazarus. The increasingly physical
terms of reference of early Christian teaching, as in 1 Thes. 4:13-18,
complicated the structure of the traditions of Jesus’ resurrection and
of his teaching concerning the resurrection. There is little of Jesus’
teaching preserved for the same reason that there is only an echo of
Peter’s experience of the risen Jesus: in both cases, the challenge to
the assumptions of the story of the empty tomb was too great to be
incorporated into the tradition of the Gospels.

The metaphysics of the resurrection in Paul

Paul’s discussion of the issue of the resurrection in 1 Cor. 15 clearly

represents his continuing commitment to the categorical understand-
ing of the resurrection that Jesus initiated. The particular occasion of
his teaching is the apparent denial of the resurrection on the part of
some people in Corinth (1 Cor. 15:12b): “how can some of you say

24
Cited in Jerome’s Famous Men 2; see Edgar Hennecke and Wilhelm Schnee-
melcher (tr. R. McL. Wilson), New Testament Apocrypha (London, 1973).
 resurrection in the gospels 227

that there is no resurrection of the dead?”25 His address of that denial

is first of all on the basis of the integrity of apostolic preaching.
Indeed, Paul prefaces his question with the earliest extant catalog of
the traditions regarding Jesus’ resurrection (1 Cor. 15:1-11). That
record makes it plain why so much variety within stories of the ap-
pearance of the risen Jesus in the Gospels was possible: reference is
made to a separate appearance to Cephas, then to the Twelve, then
to more than five hundred “brothers” (cf., Mat. 28:10!), then to
James, then to “all the apostles,” and then finally to Paul himself (vv.
5-8).The depth and range of that catalog is what enables Paul to
press on to his first argument against the Corinthian denial of the
resurrection (15:13-14): “But if there is no resurrection of the dead,
neither has Christ been raised; and if Christ has not been raised, then
our preaching is empty and your faith is empty!”
Paul expands on this argument in what follows (1 Cor. 15:15-19),
but the gist of what he says in that section is as simple as what he says
at first: faith in Jesus’ resurrection logically requires our affirmation of
the reality of resurrection generally. That may seem to be an argu-
ment entirely from hypothesis, until we remember that Paul sees the
moment when belief in Jesus occurs as the occasion of our reception
of the Spirit of God (so Gal. 4:4-6):
When the fullness of time came, God sent forth his Son, born from
woman, born under law, so that he might redeem those under law, in
order that we might obtain Sonship. And because you are sons, God
sent the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!”
Because the Spirit in baptism is nothing other than the living Spirit of
God’s Son, Jesus’ resurrection is attested by the very fact of the
primordially Christian experience of faith. The availability of his
Spirit shows that he has been raised from the dead. In addition, the
preaching in his name formally claims his resurrection, so that to
deny resurrection as a whole is to make the apostolic preaching into
a lie: empty preaching, as Paul says, and therefore empty faith.
Paul’s emphasis in this context on the spiritual integrity of the
apostolic preaching, attested in baptismal experience, is coherent
25
For a survey of attempts to explain this statement, see Wedderburn, pp. 6-37.
He comes to no finding regarding what view Paul meant to attribute to some
Corinthians, but he seems correct in affirming that a simple denial on their part
(despite the form of words Paul uses) is unlikely (cf., nn. 3, 13 above). More likely,
Paul was dealing with people who did not agree with his own teaching of a bodily
resurrection.
228 bruce chilton

with Jesus’ earlier claim that the Scriptures warrant the resurrection
(since God is God of the living, rather than of the dead). Implicitly,
apostolic preaching is accorded the same sort of authority that Jesus
attributed to the Scriptures of Israel. Paul also proceeds—in a man-
ner comparable to Jesus’ argument (but in the reverse order)—to an
argument on the basis of the category of humanity that the resurrection
involves: he portrays Jesus as the first of those raised from the dead.
His resurrection is what provides hope for the resurrection of the
dead as a whole (1 Cor. 15:20-28).
That hope, Paul goes on to argue, is what permits the Corinthians
themselves to engage in the practice of being baptized on behalf of
the dead (15:29).26 The practice assumes that, when the dead come to
be raised, even if they have not been baptized during life, baptism on
their behalf after their death will confer benefit. Similarly, Paul takes
his own courage as an example of the hopeful attitude that must
assume the resurrection of the dead as its ground: why else would
Christians encounter the dangers that they do (15:30-32a)?
The claim of resurrection, then, does not only involve a hope
based upon a reception of Spirit and the promise of Scripture
(whether in the form of the Scriptures of Israel or the apostolic
preaching). Resurrection as an actual hope impinges directly upon
what we conceive becomes of persons as we presently know them
after they have died. (And that, of course, will immediately influence
our conception of people as they are now perceived and how we
might engage with them.) Paul’s argument therefore can not and
does not rest solely on assertions of the spiritual integrity of the bib-
lical witness and the apostolic preaching. He must also spell out an
anthropology of resurrection, such that the spiritual hope and the
Scriptural witness are worked out within the terms of reference of
human experience.
Precisely when he does that in 1 Cor. 15, Paul develops a Chris-
tian metaphysics. He does so by comparing people in the resurrec-
tion, not to angels, as Jesus himself had done, but to the resurrected Jesus.
And that comparison functions for Paul both (as we have already
seen) because Jesus is preached as raised from the dead and because,

26
For a discussion of the practice in relation to Judaic custom (cf., 2 Macc. 12:40-
45), see Ethelbert Stauffer (tr. J. Marsh), New Testament Theology (New York, 1955), p.
299, n. 544. C.K. Barrett also comes to the conclusion that the vicarious effect of
baptism is at issue, A Commentary on the First Epistle to the Corinthians (London, 1968), pp.
362-364, although he is somewhat skeptical of Stauffer’s analysis.
 resurrection in the gospels 229

within the experience of baptism, Jesus is known as the living source

of the Spirit of God.27 Jesus as raised from the dead is the point of
departure for Paul’s thinking about the resurrection, and because his
focus is a human being, his analysis of the resurrection is much more
systematic than that of Jesus.
When Paul thinks of a person, he conceives of a body as composed
of flesh, physical substance that varies from one created thing to
another (for example, people, animals, birds, and fish; 1 Cor. 15:35-
39). But in addition to being physical bodies, people are also what
Paul calls a “psychic body,” that is bodies with souls (1 Cor. 15:44).
Unfortunately, the phrase is wrongly translated in many modern
versions, but its dependence on the noun for “soul” (psukhe) is obvi-
ous. The adjective does not mean “physical” as we use that word. 28
In other words, people as bodies are not just lumps of flesh, but they
are self-aware. That self-awareness is precisely what makes them
“psychic body.”
Now in addition to being physical body and psychic body, Paul
says we are (or can be, within the power of resurrection, since the
issue is no longer natural endowment) “spiritual body” (1 Cor.
15:44): “it is sown a psychic body, it is raised a spiritual body.” Spirit
in Paul’s understanding (see below) is the medium in which we can
relate thoughts and feelings to one another and to God. The explana-
tion of how spirit may be the medium of God’s communication is
developed earlier in 1 Corinthians (2:10-11). Paul develops his posi-
tion by quoting a passage from Is. 64:4 (in 2:9), which speaks of
things beyond human understanding that God has readied for those
who love him, and Paul then goes on to say (2:10-11):
God has revealed them to us through the Spirit; for the Spirit searches
all things, even the depths of God. For who knows a person’s affairs
except the person’s spirit within? So also no one has known God’s
affairs except the Spirit of God.
As Paul sees human relations, one person can only know what an-
other thinks and feels on the basis of their shared “spirit.” “Spirit” is

27
As Perkins (p. 227) puts it, “These associations make it clear that the resurrec-
tion of Jesus had been understood from an early time as the eschatological turning
point of the ages and not merely as the reward for Jesus as a righteous individual.”
28
Although that is a simple point, it apparently requires some emphasis. Scholars
of Paul routinely assert that Paul is speaking of some sort of physical resurrection,
when that is exactly what Paul denies. See Tom Wright, What Did Paul Really Say?
(Grand Rapids, 1997), p. 50.
230 bruce chilton

the name for what links one person with another, and by means of
that link we can also know what God thinks and feels.
The Spirit at issue in the case of God, Paul goes on to say, is not
“the spirit of the world,” but “the Spirit of God” (1 Cor. 2:12): the
medium of ordinary, human exchange becomes in baptism the vehi-
cle of divine revelation.
Paul’s remark in 1 Cor. 2 is part of a complete anthropology,
which is now spelled out further in 1 Cor. 15. Jesus on the basis of
the resurrection is the last Adam, a life-giving spirit (1 Cor. 15:45)
just as the first Adam was a living “being” or “soul” (the two words
are the same in Greek, psukhê). Jesus is the basis on which we can
realize our identities as God’s children, the brothers and sisters of
Christ, and know the power of the resurrection. In so saying, Paul
defines a distinctive christology as well as a characteristic spirituality.
The metaphysics of both, which relate Christ to creation and believ-
ers to God, is predicated upon a regeneration of human nature.
“Flesh” and “soul” become, not ends in themselves, but way stations
on the course to “Spirit.”

Origen and the refinement of spiritual resurrection

Born in 185 in Egypt, Origen knew the consequences faith could

have in the Roman world: his father died in the persecution of
Severus in 202. Origen accepted the sort of renunciation demanded
of apostles in the Gospels, putting aside his possessions to develop
what Eusebius calls the philosophical life demanded by Jesus (see
Eusebius, History of the Church 6.3). His learning resulted in his ap-
pointment to the catechetical school in Alexandria, following the
great examples of Pantaenus and Clement.
Origen later moved to Caesarea in Palestine, as a result of a bitter
dispute with Demetrius, the bishop of Alexandria. Indeed, Origen
remained a controversial figure after his death (and until this day), to
a large extent because he wrestled more profoundly than most think-
ers with the consequences of Spirit’s claim on the flesh. The dispute
surrounding Origen specifically included his sexuality. According to
Eusebius, as part of his acceptance of Evangelical precepts of renun-
ciation, Origen took literally the reference in Matthew to people
making eunuchs of themselves for the sake of the kingdom of heaven
(Mat. 19:12). Accordingly, he emasculated himself (History of the
 resurrection in the gospels 231

Church 6.8). As Eusebius immediately goes on to say, Demetrius later

capitalized on the story, by using it to discredit Origen. Scholarship
has been divided over the question of whether Origen in fact cas-
trated himself.
The scholarly debate about Origen’s genitals is less interesting
than the fact that there has been such a debate. If Origen did castrate
himself, the argument has been (since the time of Eusebius!), it must
have been because his interpretation of Scripture was literal at that
stage of his life. If he did not, Demetrius must have invented the
story. Castration is the extreme and negative form of the celibacy
encouraged and required within Christian circles from the second
century onward; the physical cutting crosses the line between renun-
ciation and mutilation in the minds of scholars and therefore needs to
be explained in terms of someone’s error of judgment. Whether the
act is taken to have been performed on Origen’s body or only in
Demetrius’s accusation (and therefore in Eusebius’ mind), no one
defends it. The story about Origen violates the axiom (articulated by
Paul in 1 Cor. 6:19) that the human body, as an actual or potential
vehicle of the divine, is not to be desecrated.
In fact, Origen himself argued against any literal interpretation of
Mat. 19:12, insisting that it did not refer to self-mutilation.29 The
passage has been used to suggest that Origen did castrate himself and
later saw the error of the act, as well as to argue that he never would
have done such a thing. The matter is not likely ever to be settled,
but what Origen did settle to his own satisfaction was the fraught
issue of the relationship between flesh and Spirit, the tension between
which produced the plausibility of the claim that a great Christian
teacher might castrate himself. But where the reputation of Origen
has been stalled in the antithesis between flesh and Spirit, his own
thought was productive precisely because he worked out a dialectical
reconciliation between the two.
In his treatment of the resurrection, Origen shows himself a bril-
liant exegete and a profound theologian. He sees clearly that, in 1
Cor. 15, Paul insists that the resurrection from the dead must be
bodily. And Origen provides the logical grounding of Paul’s claim
(On First Principles 2.10.1):
If it is certain that we are to be possessed of bodies, and if those bodies
that have fallen are declared to rise again—and the expression “rise

29
See Jean Daniélou, Origen (tr. W. Mitchell) (New York, 1955), p. 13.
232 bruce chilton

again” could not properly be used except of that which had previously
fallen—then there can be no doubt that these bodies rise again in order
that at the resurrection we may once more be clothed with them.
But Origen equally insists upon Paul’s assertion that “flesh and blood
can not inherit the kingdom of God” (1 Cor. 15:50). There must be
a radical transition from flesh to spirit, as God fashions a body which
can dwell in the heavens (On First Principles 2.10.3).
Origen pursues the point of this transition into a debate with fel-
low Christians (On First Principles 2.10.3):
We now direct the discussion to some of our own people, who either
from want of intellect or from lack of instruction introduce an exceed-
ingly low and mean idea of the resurrection of the body. We ask these
men in what manner they think that the “psychic body” will, by the
grace of the resurrection be changed and become “spiritual;” and in
what manner they think that what is sown “in dishonor” is to “rise in
glory,” and what is sown “in corruption” is to be transformed into
“incorruption.” Certainly if they believe the Apostle, who says that the
body, when it rises in glory and in power and in incorruptibility, has
already become spiritual, it seems absurd and contrary to the meaning
of the Apostle to say that it is still entangled in the passions of flesh and
blood.
Origen’s emphatic denial of a physical understanding of the resurrec-
tion is especially interesting for two reasons.
First, his confidence in the assertion attests the strength of his
conviction that such an understanding is “low and mean:” the prob-
lem is not that physical resurrection is unbelievable, but that the
conception is unworthy of the hope of which faith speaks.
Origen’s argument presupposes, of course, that a physical under-
standing of the resurrection was current in Christian Alexandria. But
he insists, again following Paul’s analysis, that the body that is raised
in resurrection is continuous with the physical body in principle, but
different from it in substance (On First Principles 2.10.3):
So our bodies should be supposed to fall like a grain of wheat into the
earth, but implanted in them is the cause that maintains the essence of
the body. Although the bodies die and are corrupted and scattered,
nevertheless by the word of God that same cause that has all along been
safe in the essence of the body raises them up from the earth and
restores and refashions them, just as the power that exists in a grain of
wheat refashions and restores the grain, after its corruption and death,
into a body with stalk and ear. And so in the case of those who shall be
counted worthy of obtaining an inheritance in the kingdom of heaven,
the cause before mentioned, by which the body is refashioned, at the
 resurrection in the gospels 233

order of God refashions out of the earthly and animate body a spiritual
body, which can dwell in heaven.
The direction and orientation of Origen’s analysis is defined by his
concern to describe what in humanity may be regarded as ultimately
compatible with the divine. For that reason, physical survival is re-
jected as an adequate category for explaining the resurrection. In-
stead, he emphasizes the change of substance that must be involved.
Second, the force behind Origen’s assertion is categorical. The
resolution of the stated contradictions—“psychic”/“spiritual,”
“dishonor”/”glory,” “corruption”/”incorruption”—involves taking
Paul’s language as directly applicable to the human condition. In the
case of each contradiction, the first item in the pair needs to yield to
the spiritual progression of the second item in the pair. That is the
progressive logic of Origen’s thought, now applied comprehensively
to human experience.
In Origen’s articulation, progressive thinking insists upon the radi-
cal transition resurrection involves. Although his discussion is a bril-
liant exegesis of Paul’s argument, Origen also elevates the progressive
principle above any other consideration that Paul introduces. What
had been in Paul a method for understanding Scripture (see Gal.
4:21-31) which was applicable outside that field becomes in Origen
the fundamental principle of global spiritual revolution. Only that, in
his mind, can do justice to the promise of being raised from the dead.
For all that the transition from flesh to spirit is radical, Origen is
also clear that personal continuity is involved. To put the matter
positively, one is clothed bodily with one’s own body, as we have
already seen. To put the matter negatively, sins borne by the body of
flesh may be thought of us as visited upon the body that is raised
from the dead (On First Principles 2.10.8):
…just as the saints will receive back the very bodies in which they have
lived in holiness and purity during their stay in the habitations of this
life, but bright and glorious as a result of the resurrection, so, too, the
impious, who in this life have loved the darkness of error and the night
of ignorance will after the resurrection be clothed with murky and black
bodies, in order that this very gloom of ignorance, which in the present
world has taken possession of the inner parts of their mind, may in the
world to come be revealed through the garment of their outward body.
Although Origen is quite consciously engaging in speculation at this
point, he firmly rejects the notion that the flesh is involved in the
234 bruce chilton

resurrection, even when biblical promises appear to envisage earthly

joys (On First Principles 2.11.2):
Now some men, who reject the labor of thinking and seek after the
outward and literal meaning of the law, or rather give way to their own
desires and lusts, disciples of the mere letter, consider that the promises
of the future are to be looked for in the form of pleasure and bodily
luxury. And chiefly on this account they desire after the resurrection to
have flesh of such a sort that they will never lack the power to eat and
drink and to do all things that pertain to flesh and blood, not following
the teaching of the apostle Paul about the resurrection of a “spiritual
body.”
His reasons for rejecting such a millenarian view are both exegetical
and theological. Paul is the ground of the apostolic authority he
invokes, in a reading we have already seen. He uses that perspective
to consider the Scriptures generally (On First Principles 2.11.3). But
Origen deepens his argument from interpretation with a profoundly
theological argument. He maintains that the most urgent longing is
the desire “to learn the design of those things which we perceive to
have been made by God.” This longing is as basic to our minds as
the eye is the body: constitutionally, we long for the vision of God (On
First Principles 2.11.4).
The manner in which Origen develops his own thought is com-
plex, involving a notion of education in paradise prior to one’s entry
into the realm of heaven proper (On First Principles 2.11.6):
I think that the saints when they depart from this life will remain in
some place situated on the earth, which the divine Scripture calls “para-
dise.” This will be a place of learning and, so to speak, a lecture room
or school for souls, in which they may be taught about all that they had
seen on earth and may also receive some indication of what is to follow
in the future. Just as when placed in this life they had obtained certain
indications of the future, seen indeed “through a glass darkly,” and yet
truly seen “in part,” they are revealed more openly and clearly to the
saints in the proper places and times. If anyone is of truly pure heart
and of clean mind and well-trained understanding he will make swifter
progress and quickly ascend to the region of the air,30 until he reaches
the kingdom of heaven, passing through the series of those “mansions,”
if I may so call them, which the Greeks have termed spheres—that is,
globes—but which the divine Scripture calls heavens.

30
At this point, Origen is reading 1 Thes. 4 through the lens of 1 Cor. 15, just as
later in the passage he incorporates the language of “mansions” from John 14:2.
 resurrection in the gospels 235

Even this brief excerpt from a convoluted description represents the

complexity of Origen’s vision, but two factors remain plain and sim-
ple. First, the vision of God is the moving element through the entire
discussion. Second, Origen clearly represents and develops a con-
struction of the Christian faith in which eschatology has been swal-
lowed up in an emphasis upon transcendence. The only time which
truly matters is that time until one’s death, which determines one’s
experience in paradise and in the resurrection. “Heaven” as
cosmographic place now occupies the central position once occupied
by the eschatological kingdom of God in Jesus’ teaching. That, too,
occurs on the authority of progressive dialectics, the refinement of
Pauline metaphysics.

Augustine and the history of resurrection

Augustine (354-430) was bishop of Hippo in North Africa. Born in

North Africa of humble origins, Augustine had prospered his way as
a professor of rhetoric until his conversion to Christianity while he
was in Milan. From there he made his way back to North Africa and
was leading a life of philosophical leisure until he was called to Hippo
for ordination to the priesthood, and eventually service as bishop.
There, in addition to a full pastoral ministry, Augustine wrote some
of the most influential works in the development of Western culture.
His Confessions is an examination of his own life and his own heart in
the interests of exploring the human soul, and his treatise On the
Trinity is a classic of philosophical theology and spirituality. On the City
of God is a monumental achievement, a reflection on the history of the
world in light of the will of God.
Within that truly global history, discussion of eschatology is a nec-
essary part of the work, and Augustine frames classic and orthodox
responses to some of the most persistent questions of the Christian
theology of his time. He adheres to the expectation of the resurrec-
tion of the flesh, not simply of the body (as had been the manner of
Origen). In so doing, he refutes the Manichaean philosophy that he
accepted prior to his conversion to Christianity. In Manichaeanism,
named after a Persian teacher of the third century named Mani, light
and darkness are two eternal substances that struggle against one
another, and they war over the creation they have both participated
236 bruce chilton

in making.31 As in the case of Gnosticism, on which it was dependent,

Manichaeanism counseled a denial of the flesh. By his insistence on
the resurrection of the flesh, Augustine revives the strong assertion of
the extent of God’s embrace of his own creation (in the tradition of
Irenaeus, the great millenarian thinker of the second century 32).
At the same time, Augustine sets a limit on the extent to which one
might have recourse to Plato. Augustine had insisted with Plato
against the Manichaeans that God was not a material substance, but
transcendent. Consequently, evil became in his mind the denial of
what proceeds from God (see Confessions 5.10.20). When it came to
the creation of people, however, Augustine insisted against Platonic
thought that no division between soul and flesh could be made (so
City of God 22.12). Enfleshed humanity was the only genuine human-
ity, and God in Christ was engaged to raise those who were of the
city of God. Moreover, Augustine specifically refuted the contention
of Porphyry (and Origen) that cycles of creation could be included
within the entire scheme of salvation. For Augustine, the power of
the resurrection within the flesh was already confirmed by the mira-
cles wrought by Christ and his martyrs. He gives the example of the
healings connected with the relics of St. Stephen, recently transferred
to Hippo (City of God 22.8).
Even now, in the power of the Catholic Church, God is repre-
sented on earth, and the present, Christian epoch (Christiana tempora)
corresponds to the millennium promised in Rev. 20 (City of God 20.9).
This age of dawning power, released in flesh by Jesus and conveyed
by the Church, simply awaits the full transition into the city of God,
complete with flesh itself. It is telling that, where Origen could cite a
saying of Jesus to confirm his view of the resurrection (see Mat.
22:30; Mark 12:25; Luke 20:36), Augustine has to qualify the mean-
ing of the same saying (City of God 22.18):
They will be equal to angels in immortality and happiness, not in flesh,
nor indeed in resurrection, which the angels had no need of, since they
could not die. So the Lord said that there would be no marriage in the
resurrection, not that there would be no women.

31
See Stanley Romaine Hopper, “The Anti-Manichean Writings,” in R.W.
Battenhouse, ed., A Companion to the Study of St. Augustine (New York, 1969), pp. 148-
174.
32
See Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition. A History of the Development of Doctrine
1: The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition (100-600) (Chicago, 1971), pp. 123-132.
 resurrection in the gospels 237

In all of this, Augustine is straining, although he is usually a less

convoluted interpreter of Scripture. But he is committed to what the
Latin version of the Apostles’ Creed promises: “the resurrection of
the flesh” and all that implies. He therefore cannot follow Origen’s
exegesis.
There is a double irony here. First, Origen, the sophisticated
allegorist, seems much simpler to follow in his exegesis of Jesus’
teaching than Augustine, the incomparable preacher, is. Second, Au-
gustine’s discussion of such issues as the fate of fetuses in the resurrec-
tion sounds remarkable like the Sadducees’ hypothesis that Jesus ar-
gues against in the relevant passage from the Synoptic Gospels.
Augustine is well aware, as was Origen before him, that Paul
speaks of a “spiritual body,” and acknowledges that “I suspect that all
utterance published concerning it is rash.” And yet he can be quite
categorical that flesh must be involved somehow: “the spiritual flesh
will be subject to spirit, but it will still be flesh, not spirit; just as the
carnal spirit was subject to the flesh, but was still spirit, not flesh”
(City of God 22.21). Such is Augustine’s conviction that flesh has be-
come the medium of salvation now and hereafter. As in the case of
Irenaeus, the denial of a thoroughly abstract teaching leads to the
assertion of greater literalism than may have been warranted.

Conclusion

Not only within the New Testament, but through the centuries of
discussion the key figures cited here reflect, Christianity represents
itself as a religion of human regeneration. Humanity is regarded, not
simply as a quality that God values, but as the very center of being in
the image of God. That center is so precious to God, it is the basis
upon which it is possible for human beings to enter the kingdom of
God, both now and eschatologically.
The medium in which that ultimate transformation is to take place
is a matter of debate. Regenerated people might be compared to
angels (so Jesus), to Jesus in his resurrection (so Paul), to spiritual
bodies (so Origen), and to spiritualized flesh (so Augustine). But in all
of these analyses of how we are to be transformed into the image of
Christ so as to apprehend that humanity which is in the image and
likeness of God (see Gen. 1:27), there is a fundamental consensus:
Jesus is claimed as the agency by which this transformation is accom-
plished.
238 bruce chilton

He might be the mediator of divine humanity to us because he is

the teacher by whom the message of our regeneration arrives (as in
Jesus’ own saying), because he is a Pauline new Adam (bearing the
promise of new people after him), because he is Origen’s Son of God
in heaven, or because he is Augustine’s Son of God on earth and in
history. Both the agreement and the disagreement of these theologies
make it plain that the priority of Christian faith is not to determine in
advance what the exact medium of our regeneration is to be, but
rather to identity that Jesus through whom our regeneration is in fact
to be realized. That identification—not of Jesus in history, but of
Jesus in his divine aspect—is the key to how we are in the presence of
God, in the kingdom of God, and of how we are to be in that
presence, that kingdom.
Paul provides a characteristically optimistic assessment 33 of the
human condition in 2 Cor. 5:1-10: even as our present, earthly home
is being dismantled, we have a heavenly dwelling prepared by God.
The pledge of that trust, the hope of the resurrection, is the Spirit of
God (v. 5).34 Here, speaking of the experience of resurrection, Paul is
much less paradoxical than what is retained of Jesus’ teaching, just as
Paul is plainer than Jesus in his explanation of the resurrection itself.
Jesus taught that it was better to remove an offensive hand or foot or
eye, than to find oneself whole in Gehenna, that place where (both in
Jesus’ phrasing and the Isaiah Targum) the worm does not die and
the fire is not quenched (Mark 9:42-48).35 The offense Jesus would
guard strictly against (going beyond the notion of binding oneself)
was interfering with one of the “little ones.” Only those who knew
how to take the opportunity with the enthusiasm with which a child
takes things would enter the kingdom (Mark 10:15), and entry into
that kingdom was one of the distinctive motifs of Jesus’ preaching.36
Although the attitude of entry was one of Jesus’ paramount concerns,
he did not spell ought how in substantial terms one was to enter. By
inference, a body is involved, and Paul both represents and encour-
ages Christian theology by meditating on the nature of that body.
Inference from Jesus’ teaching and encouragement from Paul have

33
Although Paul is not often called an optimist, chiefly because he is a perennially
incorrect figure (in terms of contemporary fashion), his categorically bodily hope for
the resurrection of the dead might be described as anything but pessimistic.
34
See Wedderburn, pp. 356-359.
35
See A Galilean Rabbi , pp. 101-107.
36
See Pure Kingdom, pp. 83-85.
 resurrection in the gospels 239

been the principal sources of the Church’s thought as it has grappled

with the experience of Jesus’ resurrection and the hope of resurrec-
tion for all people.

Bibliography

Barrett, C.K., A Commentary on the First Epistle to the Corinthians (London, 1968).
Benoit, Pierre, Passion et résurrection du Seigneur (Paris, 1985).
Carnley, Peter, The Structure of Resurrection Belief (Oxford, 1987).
Charlesworth, James H., and Craig A. Evans, “Jesus in the Agrapha and
Apocryphal Gospels,” in Chilton, B., and C.A. Evans, eds., Studying the
Historical Jesus. Evaluations of the State of Current Research (Leiden, 1994).
Chilton, Bruce, A Galilean Rabbi and His Bible. Jesus’ Use of the Interpreted
Scripture of His Time (Wilmington, 1984); also published with the subtitle,
Jesus’ Own Interpretation of Isaiah (London, 1984).
Chilton, Bruce, Jesus’ Prayer and Jesus’ Eucharist. His Personal Practice of Spiritu-
ality (Valley Forge, 1997).
Chilton, Bruce, The Kingdom of God in the Teaching of Jesus (London and Phila-
delphia, 1984).
Chilton, Bruce, Profiles of a Rabbi. Synoptic Opportunities in Reading about Jesus
(Atlanta, 1989).
Chilton, Bruce, Pure Kingdom. Jesus’ Vision of God (Grand Rapids, 1996).
Chilton, Bruce, The Temple of Jesus. His Sacrificial Program within a Cultural
History of Sacrifice (University Park, 1992).
Daniélou, Jean, Origen (New York, 1955).
Fiorenza, Francis Schüssler, Foundational Theology. Jesus and the Church (New
York, 1984).
Grayston, Kenneth, Dying, We Live. A New Enquuiry into the Death of Christ in the
New Testament (New York, 1990).
Hopper, Stanley Romaine, “The Anti-Manichean Writings,” in Batten-
house, R.W., ed., A Companion to the Study of St. Augustine (New York,
1969), pp. 148-174.
Pelikan, Jaroslav, The Christian Tradition. A History of the Development of Doctrine
1: The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition (100-600) (Chicago, 1971).
Perkins, Pheme, Resurrection. New Testament Witness and Contemporary Reflection
(London, 1984).
Rochais, Gérard, Les récits de résurrection des mort dans le Nouveau Testament
(Cambridge, 1981).
Stauffer, Ethelbert, New Testament Theology (New York, 1955).
Wedderburn, A.J.M., Baptism and Resurrection. Studies in Pauline Theology against
Its Graeco-Roman Background (Tübingen, 1987).
Wright, Tom, What Did Paul Really Say? (Grand Rapids, 1997).
 V.

RABBINIC JUDAISM
 10. DEATH AND AFTERLIFE IN THE EARLY RABBINIC
SOURCES: THE MISHNAH, TOSEFTA, AND EARLY
MIDRASH COMPILATIONS

Alan J. Avery-Peck
College of the Holy Cross

The documents of the Tannaim comprise two distinct literatures, on

the one hand, the legal sources, the Mishnah and Tosefta, and, on
the other, the early midrashic compilations, Sifra, Mekhilta deR.
Ishmael, Sifre Numbers, and Sifre Deuteronomy. The literary forms
and substantive interests of these literatures are largely separate, with
the legal sources concerned with praxis and the midrashic ones with
interpretation of Scripture. In light of this distinction, discussing the
early Rabbinic concepts of death, life-after-death, resurrection, and
the world-to-come presents as much a methodological as a substan-
tive problem. Covering diverse topical interests and literary forms, we
cannot assume that these separate literatures present a single and
unitary theology. At the same time, citing the same authorities and
emerging from a single time period, we might expect cohesion at
least in general principles, if not in all details.
The problem in approaching the early Rabbinic conception of
death, then, is to take account of the autonomy of each of the litera-
tures in our sample even as we work to see the extent to which,
together, they present a cogent theory representative of an early Rab-
binic Judaism that encompasses all of the writings of the Tannaitic
period. In what ways and to what extent, that is, do the Halakhah
and Haggadah cohere in presenting a distinctively Rabbinic ap-
proach to death and dying? To answer this question, we begin by
discussing each of our literatures independently. On this basis, at the
end, we outline the overall picture.
Still, the results of these surveys can be introduced briefly at the
start. Each of the literatures before us addresses the concerns indi-
cated in our title: the significance of and reason for death and what
can be expected after death, both in terms of the fate of the indi-
vidual and as regards larger messianic themes, the advent of a world-
to-come and the resurrection of all the dead. The Mishnah and
Tosefta, primarily interested in legal issues that pertain to life in this
244 alan j. avery-peck

world, present only subject heads. They declare that belief in the
resurrection of the death is an essential foundation of Israelite faith,
posit that a post-mortem judgment occurs, and aver that observance
of commandments and study of Torah assure both length of days in
this world and a place in the world-to-come. The early midrashic
compilations significantly—though, as we shall see, only episodi-
cally—develop these notions, giving some hints regarding the Rab-
binic conception of the nature of God’s judgment and the character
of the world-to-come and, especially, adumbrating the value of the
study of Torah in assuring a positive post-mortem experience.
While the legal and exegetical literatures cohere in this basic
framework, neither focuses upon these ideas sufficiently to present a
clear theory of what actually happens after death or fully to explain
how the rabbis envisioned the resurrection or messianic world-to-
come. Early Rabbinic thinking about the various aspects of life-after-
death, rather, emerges piecemeal, not within a systematic treatment
of the post-mortem experience but in response to more general ques-
tions about the nature and responsibilities of life in this world: the
question of the value of the law and the depiction of why Israelites
must follow it, that is, introduce ancillary issues: how will God’s
justice finally prevail and what will happen to those who deny the
Torah, including the nations of the world who currently rule over the
people and land of Israel? Both the legal and exegetical literatures of
early Rabbinic Judaism thus focus primarily upon explaining the
value of living the life of Torah in this world, a value that is defined
first and foremost in terms of the character of one’s existence in this
life and, only secondarily, in terms of the assurance of a future life in
a largely undefined world-to-come. We have here, then, not prima-
rily a theology of death and afterlife, which would require a detailed
and consistent theory of the matter, but a rationalization of the life of
Torah, as defined, of course, by the Rabbinic masters themselves.

The Mishnah and Tosefta on Death and Dying

While the Mishnah and Tosefta speak frequently of issues of death

and dying, their predominant concern with this topic does not ad-
dress the particular interests of this study at all. Rather than address-
ing the theological meaning of death, the rabbis of the Mishnah are
almost exclusively concerned with the ritual, familial, and economic
 the mishnah, tosefta, and early midrash compilations 245

problems the death of a specific individual raises for those who re-
main alive. These issues involve, most prominently, corpse unclean-
ness, on the one side, and the rules for the distribution of the wealth
of the deceased, on the other. In the legal texts of early Rabbinic
Judaism, thinking about death thus evokes not questions about after-
life and resurrection but about the application of Rabbinic law in the
ongoing, living community of Israel.
We need not here enter into a detailed discussion of the laws of
corpse impurity, inheritance, levirate marriage, and similar issues;1
these matters do not pertain to our specific interests. Still, reflection
upon the early rabbis’ focus on these issues affords insight into the
place and meaning of death in their overall system. What theory of
death and dying, we must ask, explains these particular interests? An
answer is suggested by T. Shab. 17:19:
A. R. Simeon b. Eleazar says, “He who wants to close the eyes of a
corpse on the Sabbath blows wine into his nose and puts oil on the
two eyelids, and they will close on their own.”
B. And so did R. Simeon b. Eleazar say, “Even a child one day old
who is alive—they violate the restrictions of the Sabbath on his
account [to save his life].
C. “But even David, King of Israel, when dead—they do not violate
the restrictions of the Sabbath on his account [to take care of his
corpse].
D. “So long as a man is alive, he engages in religious requirements.
Therefore they violate the Sabbath on his account.
E. “But when he dies, he is exempt from religious requirements.
Therefore they do not violate the Sabbath on his account.”
F. And so did R. Simeon b. Eleazar say, “A child even one day old
they do not have to guard from a weasel or rats.
G. “For a dog sees him and runs away, a snake sees him and runs
away.
H. “But even Og, King of Bashan, when dead, do they guard from a
weasel and from rats.
I. “For so long as a man is alive, fear of him falls upon the [other]
creatures,
J. “since it says, ‘The fear of you and the dread of you shall be [upon
every beast of the earth and upon every bird of the air, upon
everything that creeps on the ground and all the fish of the sea;
into your hand they are delivered]’ (Gen. 9:2).
K. “As to a corpse, fear of him leaves the [other] creatures.”
1
Examples of the Mishnah’s treatment of the financial, social, or familial ramifi-
cations of death appear, for instance, at: M. Yom. 1:1, M. Pe. 1:1, M. M.Q. 3:7-9,
M. Yeb. 1:1, 10:1, M. Shab. 23:4-5, M. Naz. 6:11, M. Sot. 9:15, M. Git. 7:5, M.
B.Q. 4:5, M. Ket. 13:3.
246 alan j. avery-peck

Humanity is defined by the ability to observe the commandments,

and, to preserve this capacity, commandments may be violated. But
death marks the cessation of all that demarcates the person as human,
that is, as within the system of Torah. Unable any longer to observe
the commandments, the corpse is no longer of interest within the
system of covenantal law. The heart of the matter is at F-G vs. H-I:
live, a person is recognized as human. But dead, the body has no
humanity, so that it is unable even to command the respect of animals.
From the perspective of the law, that is, Torah, death is an end,
not a beginning, removing the individual from the system of com-
manded obligations and, so, from the interests of the framers of the
Mishnah and Tosefta. Their interest is with those who remain alive
and with the laws that assure the continuation of the society that
upholds the covenant. Along these same lines, the rabbis essentially
accept death’s finality and express no expectation that one might be
able to overcome it. Observing the law is not a method of conquering
death, although, through piety—the life of Torah and prayer—one
may, perhaps, delay death for a short while (M. Ber. 5:5):
A. One who prays and errs—it is a bad sign for him.
B. And if he is a communal agent, [who prays on behalf of the whole
congregation], it is a bad sign for them that appointed him.
C. [This is on the principle that] a man’s agent is like [the man]
himself.
D. They said concerning R. Haninah b. Dosa, “When he would pray
for the sick he would say ‘This one shall live’ or ‘This one shall
die.’”
E. They said to him, “How do you know?”
F. He said to them, “If my prayer is fluent, then I know that it is
accepted [and the person will live].
G. “But if not, I know that it is rejected [and the person will die].”
The passage tells us more about the rabbis’ comprehension of the
efficacy of prayers said by a pious rabbi than about their theory of
why people must die. Of interest here, as in other stories about him,
is the special connection Haninah b. Dosa had with God through
prayer, so strong a connection that he could immediately sense God’s
response and know whether or not his prayers would be efficacious.
But the underlying message is that death occurs when God wills it,
that, ultimately, no action on earth can change the divine will. No
explanation of God’s choice or question of God’s decision enters into
the discussion. As in the preceding passage, death is conceived as a
 the mishnah, tosefta, and early midrash compilations 247

reality of human life, not a category of theological reflection at all.

Neither why death occurs, how to avoid it, nor what happens to an
individual after death raises any interest.
The Mishnah and Tosefta’s overriding concern with the practical
issues engendered by death means that, even when reference is made
to resurrection and life-after-death, these ideas, stated as simple and
unequivocal doctrinal beliefs, bring in their wake little concrete dis-
cussion and no systematic elaboration. Rabbinic authorities in the
Mishnah and Tosefta, as we shall now see, express absolutely their
belief in the resurrection of the dead and their expectation of a
world-to-come. But the extremely limited and unsystematic discus-
sion of these topics means that the exact nature of the resurrection
and the character of the world-to-come remain unexplored, as does
the character of the individual’s existence after death, a topic that
never enters the picture. So we learn that all people will be judged,
that the righteous will be resurrected, and that, at some undisclosed
time and under undisclosed circumstances, a “world-to-come” will
exist. But beyond these assertions, the rabbis show little concern for
the issues raised by the idea of resurrection and do not define the
relationship of this resurrection to the advent of the world-to-come.

Resurrection of the dead

As the well known passage at M. San. 10:12 makes clear, Tannaitic
authorities hold that, except for those who deny the resurrection of
the dead and other central theological concepts, e.g., that the Torah
is revealed, all Israelites have a share in the world-to-come:
A. All Israelites have a share in the world-to-come,
B. as it is said, “Your people also shall be all righteous, they shall
inherit the land forever; the branch of my planting, the work of my
hands, that I may be glorified” (Is. 60:21).
C. And these are the ones who have no portion in the world-to-come:
D. 1) He who says, the resurrection of the dead is a teaching that does
not derive from the Torah, (2) and the Torah does not come from
Heaven; and (3) an Epicurean.
E. R. Aqiba says, “Also: He who reads in heretical books,
F. “and he who whispers over a wound and says, ‘I will put none of
the diseases upon you which I have put on the Egyptians, for I am
the Lord who heals you’ (Exod. 15:26).”

2
Except where otherwise indicated, translations are by Jacob Neusner.
248 alan j. avery-peck

G. Abba Saul says, “Also: he who pronounces the divine Name as it

is spelled out.”
All who hold correct theological belief have a place in the world-to-
come.3 But the character of the resurrection, the circumstances that
will give rise to the world-to-come, and the temporal relationship
between these events is left unclear. Does the resurrection of the dead
mark the advent of the world-to-come (in which case the point is that
one who does not believe in the resurrection of the dead will not
participate in it!) or are these separate events? The question is unan-
swered. While it is difficult to move behind the silence of the source,
the unclarity of the text before us presumably signifies that the an-
swer to this question was not seen as deserving or needing great
attention. Either the matter purposely was left as a mystery or was of
insufficient concern to demand elaboration.
One thing is clear: if the prooftext at B is indicative, the world-to-
come is conceived as the people of Israel’s coming into everlasting
possession of the land of Israel. The world-to-come, thus, is tanta-
mount to the fulfillment of God’s covenantal promise to give the
people Israel the land of Israel as an everlasting inheritance.
In other early writings, the idea of resurrection as a facet of God’s
overall justice is common. It appears at M. Ab. 4:22, which focuses
directly upon the role of resurrection in God’s overall command of
the world:
A. [Eliezer Haqappar] would say, “Those who are born are [des-
tined] to die, and those who die are [destined] for resurrection.
B. “And the living are [destined] to be judged,
C. “so as to know, to make known, and to confirm that (1) he is God,
(2) he is the one who forms, (3) he is the one who creates, (4) he is
the one who understands, (5) he is the one who judges, (6) he is the
one who gives evidence, (7) he is the one who brings suit, (8) and he
is the one who is going to make the ultimate judgment.
D. “Blessed be he, for before him are not (1) guile, (2) forgetfulness, (3)
respect for persons, (4) bribe taking,
E. “for everything is his.
F. “And know that everything is subject to reckoning.

3
Note the possible parallel to the idea of the Wisdom of Solomon, as explained by
George Nickelsburg in this volume, p. 154: “Because they summoned death (1:16), it
now claims them. Their nihilistic belief led to sinful actions, and these are punished
by the annihilation they had posited in the first place. The righteous, however, will
live forever (5:15-16), enjoying the gift of immortality in which they had believed.”
 the mishnah, tosefta, and early midrash compilations 249

G. “And do not let your evil impulse persuade you that Sheol is a
place of refuge for you.
H. “For (1) despite your wishes were you formed, (2) despite your
wishes were you born, (3) despite your wishes do you live, (4)
despite your wishes do you die, and (5) despite your wishes are you
going to give a full accounting before the king of kings of kings, the
Holy One, blessed be he.”
The constellation of concerns is familiar: Death is the endpoint of
life. As an aspect of God’s perfect justice, death brings with it a divine
judgment that makes up for the injustice of people’s lots during their
earthly life. But notably here, the idea that judgment occurs with
death is not tied to a specific theory of the reward or punishment that
will ensue, for instance in Gehenna or the Garden of Eden, concep-
tions that are found in the early midrashic literature. So far as the
text before us is concerned, then, death may not be a final end; even
so, no specific claim is made regarding what follows death and judg-
ment.
While the ideas of God’s judgment and a future resurrection are
familiar from Second Temple Judaisms beginning with the book of
Daniel, we see the extent to which, in the texts before us, the rela-
tionship between these things remains unclear, as does their connec-
tion to the concept of the world-to-come. Certainly, this particular
passage again portrays the centrality for early Rabbinism of the doc-
trine of resurrection; but, at the same time, it reflects the rabbis’ lack
of interest in elaborating that doctrine. While later Amoraic docu-
ments will include discussions of the mechanics of resurrection,4 on
this topic, the early sources are silent.

The world-to-come
Like the idea of resurrection, while the category “world-to-come”
appears in the Mishnah and Tosefta, it receives no systematic atten-
tion beyond the basic idea that it will exist and is comparable to an
eternal state of Sabbath rest (M. Uqs. 7:4). Indeed, just as death
draws attention almost exclusively in its practical consequence—its

4
See, e.g., B. R.H. 16b-17a, B. San. 90b, B. Ket. 111b, and B. Ber. 60b. The
latter describes resurrection as the reuniting of the soul with the dead body. Some
sources hold that a small, incorruptible part of the body, or even a small amount of
rotted flesh, will serve as the material from which a new body is fashioned. None of
these issues arise in the Tannaitic material.
250 alan j. avery-peck

impact upon those the deceased leaves behind—so the concept of the
world-to-come is discussed primarily in its practical consequences,
that is, how its future existence is reflected in the content of prayer.
So, for instance, M. Ber. 9:5: 5
K. [At one time] all blessings in the Temple concluded with “forever.”
L. When the heretics corrupted [the practice] and said, “There is but
one world [but no world-to-come],”
M. they ordained that they should say, “forever and ever” [thus sug-
gesting the existence of a world-to-come].
In order to forestall the heretical idea that there is but one world, the
format of blessings in the Temple was changed. But the passage says
nothing about the nature of the world-to-come or about the identity
or reasoning of the heretics who reject it. Only slightly more informa-
tion is provided by M. Qid. 4:14, which depicts the distinctive value
of Torah-study:
M. R. Nehorai says, “I should lay aside every trade in the world and
teach my son only Torah.
N. “For a man eats its fruits in this world, and the principal remains
for the world-to-come.
O. “But other trades are not that way.
P. “When a man gets sick or old or has pains and cannot do his job,
lo, he dies of starvation.
Q. “But with Torah it is not that way.
R. “But it keeps him from all evil when he is young, and it gives him
a future and a hope when he is old.
S. “Concerning his youth, what does it say? ‘They who wait upon the
Lord shall renew their strength’ (Is. 40:31). And concerning his old
age what does it say? ‘They shall bring forth fruit in old age’ (Ps.
92:14).
T. “And so it says with regard to the patriarch Abraham, may he rest
in peace, ‘And Abraham was old and well along in years, and the
Lord blessed Abraham in all things’ (Gen. 24:1).
U. “We find that the patriarch Abraham kept the entire Torah even
before it was revealed, since it says, ‘Since Abraham obeyed my
voice and kept my charge my commandments, my statutes, and
my laws’ (Gen. 26:5).”
Torah study is important because it assures the scholar a place in the
world-to-come, an idea consonant with the commonplace conception
that the righteous are rewarded after death. Beyond the general state-
5
Note similarly: M. Ber. 5:2 dictates that reference to the “wonder of the rain” is
to be placed in the second paragraph of the Eighteen Benedictions, on the resurrec-
tion of the dead.
 the mishnah, tosefta, and early midrash compilations 251

ment of this fact, however, the passage is concerned with quite differ-
ent values of Torah study, that it keeps a young man from evil and,
in old age, offers a “future” and “hope.” Since the first significance of
Torah study is this-worldly—to keep one from evil—and since its
second significance is associated with preventing starvation (P vs. R),
the ideas “future” and “hope” here appear not to reflect thinking
about life-after-death, resurrection, or a place in a world-to-come at
all. Indeed, the biblical proof texts, S and T, refer only to Abraham’s
continued vitality and receiving of God’s blessings in old age. The
passage overall thus appears to speak of the importance of study and
the observance of the law as aspects of a proper life in this world. The
fact of the anticipated world-to-come enhances the sense of the im-
portance of these things but, not being the real focus of the rabbis’
interest, demands no detailed exposition. M. Ab. 4:16, 17, 21, and
5:20 are similar:
4:16A. R. Jacob says, “This world is like an antechamber before the
world-to-come.
B. “Get ready in the antechamber, so you can go into the great
hall.”
4:17A. He would say, “Better is a single moment spent in penitence
and good deeds in this world than the whole of the world-to-
come.
B. “And better is a single moment of inner peace in the world-to-
come than the whole of a lifetime spent in this world.”
4:21A. R. Eliezer Haqappar says, “Jealousy, lust, and ambition drive a
person out of this world.”
5:20A. Judah b. Tema says, “Be strong as a leopard, fast as an eagle,
fleet as a gazelle, and brave as a lion, to carry out the will of
your Father who is in heaven.”
B. He would say, “The shameless go to Gehenna, and the shame-
fast to the garden of Eden.
C. “May it be found pleasing before you, O Lord our God, that
you rebuild your city quickly in our day and set our portion in
your Torah.”
The ideas are general and reveal no consistent theory of death or life-
after-death. The idea of a world-to-come accentuates the value of
Torah study and proper behavior in this world. But failures in this
world are not expressly tied to a denial of a place in the world-to-
come;6 they mean, rather, an inability fully to live life in this world, as
6
Indeed, M. San. 6:2 makes a similar point, that even the greatest sinner, should
he confess and repent, has a place in the world-to-come, a result of the fact that the
sinner’s death serves as an atonement for the sin. Only unrepentant sinners and
252 alan j. avery-peck

M. Ab. 4:21 makes explicit. Proper behavior thus is as much its own
reward as a key to a future life.
For the first time in these texts, Judah b. Tema, M. Ab. 5:20,
speaks of an individual life-after-death, not the corporate resurrection
and world-to-come to which all of our other passages have referred.
But two things bear noting in his statement. First, it is offered as the
distinctive idea of an individual, as though its claim is not generally
agreed. Second, even as the body of the statement is strikingly gen-
eral regarding what awaits the sinner and the righteous, its conclu-
sion, C, drops the idea of life-after-death entirely. Instead, it ex-
presses the hope for the speedy fulfillment of God’s promise to
Israel—the rebuilding of Jerusalem “in our day.” As in other pas-
sages, then, the greatest concern remains what happens in this world.
The nature of any life or world beyond death—let alone its impor-
tance as a stage in the ultimate accomplishment of God’s plan—goes
undefined.
The Mishnah’s interest thus is not to explain why people must die,
to describe what they will experience after death, or to prescribe how
they can overcome death. It is, rather, to direct them towards proper
behavior in this world. This general function of discussions of the
world-to-come—to elaborate quintessentially Rabbinic values for this
world—is exemplified at T. Pe. 1:2:7
1:2A. For these things they punish a person in this world, while the
principal [i.e., eternal punishment] remains for the world-to-
come:
B. (1) for [acts of] idolatrous worship, (2) for incest, (3) for murder,
(4) and for gossip, [which is] worse than all of them together.
C. Doing good (zkwt) creates a principal [for the world-to-come]
and bears interest (pyrwt) [in this world],
D. as it is stated [in Scripture], “Tell the righteous that it shall be
well with them, for they shall enjoy the benefits (pyrwt) of their
deeds” (Is. 3:10).
God’s justice is revealed in the fact that those who behave properly in
this world are rewarded in a coming one. But the extent to which this
commonplace idea functions primarily to buttress distinctively Rab-

those whose sin was so great as to make repentance impossible cannot achieve this
place (M. San. 10:2-3).
7
Translation: Roger Brooks. A similar point is made at T. Pe. 4:18, using the
example of Monobases, king of Adiabene, who understood acts of charity to establish
a value for the world-to-come.
 the mishnah, tosefta, and early midrash compilations 253

binic ideas about the nature of proper behavior is clear at B(4), which
calls gossip the most serious possible offense, worse even than idola-
try, incest, or murder. This is a uniquely Rabbinic idea of sin, or, at
least, of which sins people must be encouraged not to commit. The
rabbis thus use the idea of the world-to-come to promote their own
distinctive agenda; to accomplish this, they utilize, but hardly de-
velop, a commonplace and entirely general idea of resurrection and a
world-to-come. While the Mishnah and Tosefta reveal established
beliefs about the end of time, overall, they present no clear theory of
any aspect of post-mortem experience. The larger questions—Why
do people, even the righteous, die? What is the meaning and purpose
of death? What will be the character of the resurrection and the
world-to-come? When will these events occur?—attract no attention,
leaving the impression that the rabbis of the Mishnah and Tosefta
did not see in such issues significant components of the Israelite
world-view.

The Early Midrashic Compilations

Early midrashic passages parallel the Mishnah and Tosefta’s treat-

ment of death as the natural end to life, as neither a punishment for
sin nor an evil to be fought and overcome. To the extent that the
reason for death is questioned at all, it is only in the case of those who
die young or whose exemplary piety might make people believe that
they should not die. But even in such cases, the rabbis insist, death
does not challenge God’s power and justice. As Sifre Deut. Pisqa 339
makes clear, even the most righteous must die, an intrinsic aspect of
the human condition:
1.A. “You [Moses] shall die on the mountain that you are about to
ascend [and shall be gathered to your kin, as your brother
Aaron died on Mount Hor and was gathered to his kin]” (Deut.
32:50):
B. [Moses] said before him, “Lord of the world, why should I die?
Is it not better for people to say, ‘Moses is good,’ because of
what they have personally seen, than that they should say, ‘Mo-
ses is good,’ based on what they have heard? Is it not better that
people should say, ‘This is that very same Moses, who brought
us out of Egypt, split the sea for us, brought down the manna
for us, did wonders and acts of might for us,’ than that they
should say, ‘Such-and-so is what Moses was, such-and-so is
what Moses did’?”
254 alan j. avery-peck

C. He said to him, “Go your way, Moses; it is a decree of mine

that applies to every mortal.”
D. For it is said, “This is the Torah that applies to a mortal: when
a person will die in a tent” (Num. 19:14).
E. And further, “This is the Torah of a mortal, O Lord God” (2
Sam. 7:19).
2.A. The ministering angels said before the Holy One, blessed be he,
“Lord of the world, why did the first man die?”
B. He said to them, “Because he did not carry out my orders.”
C. They said to him, “Lo, Moses did carry out your orders.”
D. He said to them, “It is a decree of mine that applies to every
mortal.”
E. For it is said, “This is the Torah that applies to a mortal: when
a person dies in a tent” (Num. 19:14).
While death was introduced because of Adam’s sin, it is not intrinsi-
cally associated with sin, and, therefore, no reason is needed to justify
the death of even so great an individual as Moses. Even the blameless
must die. At the same time, the ability to identify a shortcoming or
sin that accounts for a specific death is comforting, highlighting
God’s justice. Thus the recognition that he sinned gives solace to a
pious rabbi, who saw not death in general but an early death through
martyrdom as a possible challenge to God’s fairness (Mekhilta 75
Nezikin 18):
11.A. When they seized Rabban Simeon b. Gamaliel and R. Ishmael
on the count of death, Rabban Simeon b. Gamaliel was in
session and was perplexed, saying, “My Lord, my heart goes
out of me, for I do not know on what account I am being put to
death.”
B. Said to him R. Ishmael b. Elisha, “Is it possible that no one ever
came to you for judgment or for a question and you kept him
waiting until you had sipped your cup, until you had tied your
sandal, or until you had cloaked yourself in your cloak, while
the Torah has said, ‘If you do afflict them, and they cry out to
me, I will surely hear their cry’—all the same are a major
affliction and a minor one.”
C. He said to him, “You have comforted me, my Lord.”
D. Now, when R. Simeon and R. Ishmael were killed, said R.
Aqiba to his disciples, “Prepare yourself for punishment, for
were something good destined to come in our generation, to
begin with only R. Simeon and R. Ishmael would have received
it, and now it is perfectly clear before the one who spoke and
brought the world into being that a great punishment is des-
tined to come in our generation….”
 the mishnah, tosefta, and early midrash compilations 255

Death in itself does not challenge conceptions of God’s justice, only

the early death of the pious, murdered by nations that are not God’s
chosen. But even such deaths are explicable, the result of minor
personal offenses or even the sins of the generation (D). In this regard
it is important to note the Midrashic compilations’ view that death
serves as an atonement for sin. Thus, at Sifre Num. 4, death is said to
take the place of the guilt-offering, completing and perfecting an act
of atonement. Mekhilta deR. Ishmael 56, Bahodesh 10, makes a
similar point, that the suffering that comes with death is precious as
a form of atonement:
A. Now when R. Eliezer was sick, four sages, R. Tarfon, R. Joshua,
R. Eleazar b. Azariah, and R. Aqiba, came to visit him.
B. Responded and said to him R. Tarfon, “My lord, you are more
precious to Israel than the sun’s orb. For the sun’s orb gives light to
this world, but you give light to us in this world and the world-to-
come.”
C. Responded and said to him R. Joshua, “My lord, you are more
precious to Israel than the gift of rain, for rain gives life in this
world, but you give life to us in this world and the world-to-come.”
D. Responded and said to him R. Eleazar b. Azariah, “My lord, you
are more precious to Israel than a father or a mother. For a father
or mother brings one into this world, but you bring us into this
world and the world-to-come.”
E. Responded and said to him R. Aqiba, “My lord, suffering is pre-
cious.”
F. R. Eliezer said to his disciples, “Lift me up.”
G. R. Eliezer went into session, saying to him, “Speak, Aqiba.”
H. He said to him, “Lo, Scripture says, ‘Manasseh was twelve years
old when he began to reign, and he reigned for fifty-five years in
Jerusalem. And he did what was evil in the eyes of the Lord’ (2
Chr. 33:1). And it further says, ‘These are the proverbs of Solo-
mon, which the men of Hezekiah, king of Judah, copied out’ (Prov.
25:1).
I. “Now can anyone imagine that Hezekiah taught Torah to all Is-
rael, while his son, Manasseh, he did not teach Torah?
J. “But one must conclude that, despite all of the learning that his
father taught him, and all the work that he put into him, nothing
worked for him except suffering.
K. “For it is said, ‘And the Lord spoke to Manasseh and to his people,
but they gave no heed. Therefore the Lord brought upon them the
captains of the host of the king of Assyria, who took Manasseh with
hooks and bound him with fetters and carried him to Babylonia.
And when he was in distress, he besought the Lord, his God, and
humbled himself greatly before the God of his fathers and prayed
to him, and he was entreated of him and heard his supplication
256 alan j. avery-peck

and brought him back to Jerusalem into his kingdom’ (2 Chr.

33:10-13).
L. “That proves that suffering is precious.”
Here we have the beginnings of an explicit statement of the purpose
of death—atonement for sin—in which capacity it equally serves the
righteous and evil. But, while focusing briefly upon this point, the
passage does not develop a broader conception of what occurs with
death. Rather, striking here is the lack of attention to the three state-
ments of Eliezer’s value, as a teacher of Torah, in assuring the people
of Israel’s life in the coming world, B-D. Eliezer responds, rather,
only to the immediate and, presumably, most commonly asked ques-
tion: why do the righteous suffer?
While the question of what can be expected after death finds no
answer here, other passages reflect on the issue, asserting that death
does not mark the righteous deceased’s entry into a glorious life-after-
death: the focus, as in the preceding passage, remains only on the
corporate world-to-come. In this context, the dead are not viewed as
“with God” in any physical sense; nor can they “see” God (Sifra
Parashat Vayyiqra Dibura Denedabah Pereq 2):
2.A. R. Dosa says, “Lo, Scripture says, ‘For a person will not see me
and live’ (Exod. 33:20).
B. “In mortals’ life, they may not see [him], but they do see [him] at
the moment of their death.
C. “And so it is said, ‘All those in full vigor shall eat and prostrate
themselves; all those at death’s door, whose spirits flag, shall bend
the knee before him’ (Ps. 22:30 [JPS]).”
3.A. R. Aqiba says, “Lo, Scripture says, ‘For a person will not see me
and live’ (Exod. 33:20).
B. “Even the holy chayyoth that carry the seat of glory cannot see the
divine glory.”
C. Said Simeon b. Azzai, “I take up a position not in contention with
the view of my lord, but only so as to amplify his opinion:
D. “‘For a person will not see me and live’ (Exod. 33:20).
E. “Even ministering angels, who live forever, cannot see the glory of
God.”
Death is an end. After it, whatever future hopes Rabbinic Judaism
might hold, one does not dwell in the direct presence of God. At
Mekhilta deR. Ishmael Amalek 4, XLVI:II.1.3, the conception of
death as an end is emphasized through the recognition that, after
death, there is no learning nor knowledge of Torah. We imagine,
then, not a glorious afterlife spent in study of Torah but the simple
cessation of that which, in this world, defines all that is of value:
 the mishnah, tosefta, and early midrash compilations 257

A. [“So Moses gave heed to the voice of his father-in-law (and ap-
pointed others to assist him in judging the people)” (Exod. 18:24):]
Might one suppose that [Moses] went along and did nothing?
B. Scripture says, “And the children of the Kenite, Moses’ father-in-
law, went up out of the city of palm trees with the children of
Judah into the wilderness of Judah, which is in the south of Arab;
and they went and dwelt with the people” (Judg. 1:16).
C. “People” means only wisdom, in line with this usage: “No doubt
you are the people and with you is the perfection of wisdom” (Job
12:2).
D. Do not read the letters as though they spelled “perfection” but
rather “cessation.”
E. So long as a sage endures, his wisdom endures with him. When the
sage dies, his wisdom dies with him.
F. So we find that when R. Nathan died, his wisdom died with him.
While the point of A-B is obscure, the interpretation of Job 12:2, C-
E, is clear and poignant. Death marks the end of all that is important
to God about humankind: the ability to study and to observe Torah.
In this regard, an individual’s death is a real end, and what comes
beyond it can have little significance within the Rabbinic agenda.
Thus, as in the legal materials, discussion of an individual life-after-
death is all but unknown, and even the concepts of a corporate
resurrection and world-to-come remain highly undeveloped.

God’s judgment and punishment

The Mishnah’s theme of the divine judgment that takes place at the
time of death is developed in the early Midrashic compilations. Here
the problem of judging the disunited body and soul is noted
(Mekhilta deR. Ishmael Shirata XXVII:II.7):
A. Antoninus asked our holy master [Judah the Patriarch], “When
someone dies and the body perishes, does the holy one, blessed be
he, put it on trial?”
B. He said to him, “Instead of asking me about the body, which is
cultically unclean, ask me about the soul, which is clean.”
C. [Filling in the gap from the parallel at B. San. 91a-b: Antoninus
said to Rabbi, “The body and the soul both can exempt themselves
from judgment. How so? The body will say, ‘The soul is the one
that has sinned, for from the day that it left me, lo, I am left like a
silent stone in the grave.’ And the soul will say, ‘The body is the
one that sinned. For from the day that I left it, lo, I have been
flying about in the air like a bird.’”]
D. [Judah] said to him, “I shall draw a parable for you. To what may
258 alan j. avery-peck

the matter be likened? To the case of a mortal king who had a

lovely orchard, and in it were luscious figs. He set in it two watch-
men, one crippled and one blind.
E. “Said the cripple to the blind man, ‘There are luscious figs that I
see in the orchard. Come and carry me, and let us get some to eat.’
The cripple rode on the blind man and they got the figs and ate
them. After a while the king said to them, ‘Where are the luscious
figs?’
F. “Said the cripple, ‘Do I have feet to go to them?’
G. “Said the blind man, ‘Do I have eyes to see?’
H. “What did the king do? He had the cripple climb onto the blind
man, and he inflicted judgment on them as one.
I. “So the holy one, blessed be he, brings the soul and places it back
in the body and judges them as one, as it is said, ‘He shall call to
the heavens from above and to the earth, that he may judge his
people’ (Ps. 50:4).
J. “‘He shall call to the heavens from above’—this is the soul.
K. “‘And to the earth, that he may judge his people’—this is the
body.”
The philosophical question familiar in Jewish sources from Philo, of
whether or not the soul is by definition pure, finds here a simple
answer: neither it nor the body can sin without the other; each is
equally subject to and responsible for sin. But even as the passage
introduces the concept of a soul that is independent from and, upon
death, departs from the body, it leaves open the issue of what actually
happens to it or the body after judgment. The passage may presume
that, while the body is destined for disintegration, the soul is immor-
tal. But even as it depicts the judgment of body and soul, the manner
in which its idea corresponds to concepts expressed elsewhere of
Sheol, Gehenna, the Garden of Eden, resurrection, and the world-to-
come is left open.
While many of the passages we have considered speak of a com-
munal resurrection and world-to-come, Sifre Num. 44, on the nature
of God’s judgment, responds to the question of what an individual
will face at the time of death. It is in the discussion of this topic in
particular that the concerns death raises in other literatures—involv-
ing the human fear of the end of life—arise. The Rabbinic response
is not surprising. The life of Torah, as we know, does not protect from
death. But piety and knowledge of Torah do assure God’s protection
in death. Here we find the strongest evidence for a Rabbinic belief in
some sort of post-mortem existence, an existence that may be positive
or negative depending upon the extent to which one enjoys God’s
protection (Sifre Num. 44):
 the mishnah, tosefta, and early midrash compilations 259

XL:I.8A. Another interpretation of “...and keep you” (Num. 6:24):

B. He will keep your soul at the hour of death.
C. And so Scripture says, “…the life of my lord shall be bound
in the bundle of the living in the care of the Lord your God”
(1 Sam. 25:29).
D. May I infer that that is the case for righteous and wicked
alike?
E. Scripture says, “…and the lives of your enemies he shall
sling out as from the hollow of a sling” (1 Sam. 25:29).
XL:I.9A. Another interpretation of “…and keep you:”
B. He will keep your foot from Gehenna.
C. And so Scripture says, “He will guard the feet of his faithful
ones, but the wicked shall be cut off in darkness” (1 Sam.
2:9).
XL:I.10A. Another interpretation of “…and keep you:”
B. He will guard you in the world-to-come.
C. And so Scripture says, “They who wait for the Lord shall
renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like
eagles” (Is. 40:31).
God protects the righteous at the time of death (8B), shielding them
from Gehenna (9B), and guarding them in the world-to-come (10B).
These conceptions have appeared as distinct ideas before, and they
remain separate here as well. The relationship, that is to say, between
God’s keeping of the soul, protection from Gehenna, and the world-
to-come remains unexplored and unclear. Each seems to suggest an
independent thought about what happens after death. This means
that the goal of the passage is not so much to propose a theory of
death and afterlife as to promote the idea that those who follow
God’s will earn God’s protection. This is a familiar idea that, at Sifra
267 BeHuqotai Pereq 6, is further developed: while Torah is associ-
ated with everlasting life, idol worship means death:
5.A. “…and cast your dead bodies upon the dead bodies of your idols”
(Lev. 26:30):
B. What were dead bodies doing with idols?
C. Elijah of blessed memory went around among all those who were
bloated by famine. If he found someone bloated by famine and
lying in hunger, he would say to him, “My son, what family do you
come from?”
D. He replied, “From such and such a family.”
E. He said to him, “And how many were you?”
F. He replied, “We were three thousand.”
G. “And how many survive of you?”
H. He said to him, “I.”
I. He said to him, “Do you want to say a single thing and live?”
260 alan j. avery-peck

J. He said to him, “Yes.”

K. He said to him, “[Say,] ‘Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the
Lord alone.’”
L. He forthwith cried out and said, “Silence! So as not to make men-
tion of the name of the Lord. Father did not teach me thus.”
M. What did he do? He took his idol and put it on his heart and
caressed it and kissed it until his stomach burst, and he and his idol
fell to the other.
N. That is what is meant by the verse, “and cast your dead bodies
upon the dead bodies of your idols.”
Idol-worship means death. But so far as this passage attests, it is a
physical death from this world. The question of judgment and eternal
suffering, of an inability to enter the world-to-come, does not arise.
While that association appears at Mekhilta 67 Nezikin 10, 31, it is
made only in regards to the potential for idol worshipping nations to
enjoy a corporate salvation, not for the case of an individual at all:
F. …as to bondmen and bondwomen, there are those that are subject
to redemption, and there are those that are not subject to redemp-
tion;
G. as to those subject to the death penalty by a court, there are those
that are subject to redemption, and there are those that are not
subject to redemption;
H. so regarding the age-to-come, there are those that are subject to
redemption, and there are those that are not subject to redemp-
tion:
I. The nations of the world are not subject to redemption: “No man
can by any means redeem his brother nor give to God a ransom
for him, for too costly is the redemption of their soul” (Ps. 49:8-9).
J. Precious are the Israelites, for the ransom of whose lives the Holy
One, blessed be he, has given the nations of the world:
K. “I have given Egypt as your ransom” (Is. 43:4).
L. Why so?
M. “Since you are precious in my sight and honorable, and I have
loved you, therefore I will give men for you and peoples for your
life” (Is. 43:3-4).
The coming world corrects the injustices of this one. Thus the cur-
rent servitude of Israel and the ascendancy of the nations will be
reversed in a future world given to the people of Israel alone. But so
far as this passage is concerned, this completion of God’s justice will
occur only with the advent of the world-to-come, that is, at the end
time for all people. The idea of individual post-mortem reward or
punishment is absent here as from almost all of the passages we have
examined. While known, the concepts of punishment in Gehenna or
 the mishnah, tosefta, and early midrash compilations 261

reward in the Garden of Eden seem hardly to have been a central

method of addressing the problem of injustice in the world. As we
shall now see, the use of the idea of the resurrection of the dead to
fulfill this purpose similarly remains undeveloped.

Resurrection in the early midrashic compilations

Like the legal documents, the early midrashic texts know of but infre-
quently discuss the concept of resurrection. Most frequently, the term
is used as a metaphor for permanence. Thus, the sacrificial system is
described as an efficacious mode of atonement “until the dead will
live” (Sifra 98 Parashat Sav Mekhilta DeMilluim), and the priestly
blessing is called the unique right of the Aaronide priests “until the
dead shall live” (Sifra 99 Parashat Shemini Mekhilta DeMilluim). In
only one passage is resurrection described as playing a role in the
working out of God’s justice: just as God punishes sinners, so resur-
rection represents an appropriate award for the righteous. Claims
regarding resurrection thus prove that God is just (Sifra 194 Ahare
Mot Pereq 13):
16.A. “[You shall therefore keep my statutes and my ordinances], by
the pursuit of which a man shall live: [I am the Lord]” (Lev.
18:5):
B. not that he should die by them.
C. R. Ishmael would say, “How do you know that if people should
say to someone when entirely alone, ‘Worship an idol and do
not be put to death,’ the person should worship the idol and not
be put to death?
D. “Scripture says, ‘by the pursuit of which man shall live,’ not
that he should die by them.
E. “But even if it is in public should he obey them?
F. “Scripture says, ‘[You shall faithfully observe my command-
ments; I am the Lord.] You shall not profane my holy name,
that I may be sanctified in the midst of the Israelite people—I
the Lord who sanctify you, I who brought you out of the land of
Egypt to be your God, I the Lord’ (Lev. 22:31-32).
G. “If you sanctify my name, then I shall sanctify my name
through you.
H. “For that is just as Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah did.
I. “When all of the nations of the world at that time were pros-
trate before the idol, while they stood up like palm trees.
J. “And concerning them it is stated explicitly in tradition: ‘Your
stately form is like the palm’ (Song 7:7).
K. “‘I say, let me climb the palm, let me take hold of its branches’
(Song 7:8).
262 alan j. avery-peck

L. “This day I shall be exalted in the sight of the nations of the

world, who deny the Torah.
M. “This day I shall exact vengeance for them from those who hate
them.
N. “This day I shall resurrect the dead among them.
O. “I am the Lord:
P. “I am judge to exact punishment and faithful to pay a reward.”
The main point is at N-P: resurrection corrects the injustices of this
world; the righteous will be rewarded and the wicked punished. But
the context in which this idea is expressed deserves note. Martyrdom
is to be avoided, even at the cost of worshipping an idol, A-D. The
only exception is the case in which, to save oneself, one must sin in
public, E-I, thereby drawing others into idolatry. Despite this caveat,
clearly the passage does not view death, or even the opportunity for
martyrdom, as a positive value, an opportunity to achieve perfect
union with God. Rather, as we have come to expect, the highest
value is continued life in this world, where Torah is studied and
practiced.
While the rabbis assert that the fact of a future resurrection can be
proven from Scripture, they seem clear that such proof is a matter of
interpretation; in the Bible, resurrection is hinted at but not explicitly
promised (Sifre Deut. Pisqa 129:II):
1.A. Another interpretation of the phrase, “I deal death and give life; I
wound and I will heal, none can deliver from my hand” (Deut.
32:39):
B. This is one of the four promises in which to the Israelites is given
an indication of the resurrection of the dead.
C. [The others are these:] “Let me die the death of the righteous, and
let my end be like his” (Num. 23:10).
D. “Let Reuben live and not die” (Deut. 33:6).
E. “After two days he will revive us” (Hos. 6:2).
F. Might I suppose that [the references to] death apply to one person,
[those to] life to another?
G. Scripture says, “I wound and I will heal” (Deut. 32:39):
H. Just as the wounding and healing pertain to a single individual, so
the [references to] death and life pertain to a single individual [thus
showing that Scripture contains evidence for the belief in the resur-
rection of the dead].
The few early midrashic references to resurrection are in line with
the conception presented in the Mishnah and Tosefta: resurrection is
an aspect of God’s justice, assuring that the righteous are rewarded.
But when the resurrection will occur and its character are not ex-
 the mishnah, tosefta, and early midrash compilations 263

plored. Indeed, the notion that resurrection is no more than implied

in Scripture coupled with the idea that one should do what one can
to save oneself from death parallel what we have deduced in general
from the infrequent discussion of the topic, that this conception was
not a central focus of early Rabbinic thinking or concern.

The world-to-come in early midrashic compilations

As we already know from the early legal literature, death is unavoid-
able, even by the most righteous; but God rewards those who live by
the commandments with a place in the world-to-come (Sifra 193
Parashat Ahare Mote Parashah 8):
9.A. “[You shall keep my laws and my rules, by the pursuit of which
man] shall live” (Lev. 18:5):
B. in the world-to-come.
C. And should you wish to claim that the reference is to this world,
is it not the fact that in the end one dies?
D. Lo, how am I to explain, “…shall live”?
E. It is with reference to the world-to-come.
10.A. “I the Lord am your God:”
B. faithful to pay a reward.
Even as the association of observing Torah and gaining a place in the
world-to-come remains strong, a more universalistic image of the
coming world as a time when all nations will denounce idolatry also
exists (Mekhilta deR. Ishmael Shirata XXXIII:I.1):
A. “Who is like you, O Lord, among gods? [Who is like you, majestic
in holiness, terrible in glorious deeds, doing wonders]?” (Exod.
15:11):
B. When the Israelites saw that Pharaoh and his host had perished at
the Red Sea, the dominion of the Egyptians was over, and judg-
ments were executed on their idolatry, they all opened their
mouths and said, “Who is like you, O Lord, among gods?”
C. And not the Israelites alone said the song, but also the nations of
the world said the song.
D. When the nations of the world saw that Pharaoh and his host had
perished at the Red Sea, the dominion of the Egyptians was over,
and judgments were executed on their idolatry, they all renounced
their idolatry and opened their mouths and confessed their faith in
the Lord and said, “Who is like you, O Lord, among gods?”
E. So too you find that in the age-to-come the nations of the world
will renounce their idolatry: “O Lord, my strength and my strong-
hold and my refuge, in the day of affliction to you the nations shall
come…shall a man make himself gods” (Jer. 16:19-20); “In that
264 alan j. avery-peck

day a man shall cast away his idols of silver…to go into the clefts
of the rocks” (Is. 2:20-21); “And the idols shall utterly perish” (Is.
20:18).
This image of the dramatic change that will be ushered in with the
world-to-come stands alongside a different view, which questions the
extent to which, in religious practice at least, the age-to-come will
differ from the present time at all. The assumption at Mekhilta deR.
Ishmael XVI:II.1 is that ritual life, liturgical practices in particular,
will remain almost entirely the same as in this world. At issue is only
whether or not, in the world-to-come, Israelites will need any longer
to recall the Exodus from Egypt in the Shema prayers:
H. Said Ben Zoma to sages, “The Israelites are destined in the age-to-
come no longer to make mention of the Exodus from Egypt, as it
is said, ‘Therefore the days are coming, says the Lord, that it will
not be said any more, “As the Lord lives, who brought the people
of Israel out of the land of Egypt” but “As the Lord lives who
brought the people of Israel from the land of the North”’ (Jer.
16:14-15).”
I. R. Nathan says, “‘Who brought up and led’ (Jer. 23:8) indicates
that they will make mention of the Exodus from Egypt even in the
age to come.”
Still, other passages conceive the coming age as a time of unique
union between the righteous and God (Sifra 263 Parashat BeHukotai
Pereq 3):
5.A. “And I will walk among you” (Lev. 26:12):
B. The matter may be compared to the case of a king who went out
to stroll with his sharecropper in an orchard.
C. But the sharecropper hid from him.
D. Said the king to that sharecropper, “How come you’re hiding from
me? Lo, I am just like you.”
E. So the Holy One, blessed be he, said to the righteous, “Why are
you trembling before me?”
F. So the Holy One, blessed be he, is destined to walk with the
righteous in the Garden of Eden in the coming future, and the
righteous will see him and tremble before him, [and he will say to
them, “How come you’re trembling before me?] Lo, I am just like
you.”
Here, unlike in the other references we have reviewed, existence in
the world-to-come is depicted as life in the Garden of Eden. Now the
righteous walk with God. The question of the meaning of God’s
being “like them” is unexplored.
 the mishnah, tosefta, and early midrash compilations 265

Conclusions

Despite a dearth of details or systematic evaluation of the issues

before us, the overall perspective of the early Rabbinic material—the
legal as well as the exegetical documents—emerges quite clearly.
Death is a natural end to life, the result not only, or particularly, of
sin but of the human condition in general. The benefit of adherence
to the precepts of Judaism, and, especially, the value of the study of
Torah is not to prevent death but to promote the possibility of a long
and good life and, secondarily, to assure, in a coming world, a divine
reward.
In keeping with God’s attribute of justice, after death each indi-
vidual will experience a day of judgment on which God will evaluate
all of his or her actions. While ideas of an immediate reward or
punishment are particularly undeveloped, the midrashic texts express
at least a rudimentary notion that, for the wicked, this will be a day
of wrath and vengeance followed by a punishing existence in Gehen-
na. For the just, by contrast, judgment introduces an afterlife in the
Garden of Eden.
The undeveloped and infrequently mentioned idea of a post-
mortem existence in the Garden of Eden or Gehenna stands alongside
the far greater attention paid to the concept of a corporate world-to-
come. Most of the relevant passages imagine this world-to-come as the
context in which all of the people of Israel—even sinners who re-
pent—will receive the reward due for the people’s acceptance of
Torah. At the same time, the relationship of the world-to-come to
other ideas of what happens after death, in particular to the previously
mentioned existence in the Garden of Eden or Gehenna, is unclear.
While the Garden of Eden may be associated with the world-to-come,
the connection is not firm; the parallel existence of Gehenna during
the time of the world-to-come is not mentioned at all.
Another much mentioned but undeveloped idea concerns resur-
rection. Belief in resurrection is declared an indispensable foundation
of membership in the Israelite community. But the association of
resurrection with life in the world-to-come is unclear, and there
seems little concern for detailing exactly how and when the resurrec-
tion will take place. This lack of interest in the fate of the individual
body may parallel the similar, almost total absence of discussion of
the concept of a personal afterlife in Gehenna or the Garden of
Eden.
266 alan j. avery-peck

In all, death is viewed as a result of the innate limitation of the

condition of being human. It comes to all and need neither be feared
nor fought. The texts before us give no thought to the idea of over-
coming death and do not depict death either as an evil or the direct
result of sin. Since death comes to the righteous and sinful alike, the
most one can hope for is length of days, an idea that, in itself, ex-
presses the Rabbinic focus on and interest in the activities of this
world, not the coming one. Why, then, do these documents speak of
post-mortem experience at all? These discussions seem most often to
serve in promoting Rabbinic values for behavior in the here-and-
now. By accepting and following the specific mandates of Rabbinic
Judaism, one can assure that death will offer the opportunity for a
divine reward.
And yet, we must recall, the idea that God’s judgment will be
effected in a post-mortem judgment and world-to-come is but a small
aspect of the Rabbinic picture of what awaits human beings after
death. All Israel, after all, has a place in the world-to-come, and, in
some conceptions, the nations of the world do too. Thus, in early
Rabbinic texts, the idea of a world-to-come serves as much more
than a way of explaining the apparent injustices of this world. It is,
rather, the proof of the Rabbinic insistence that human life is not
ultimately meaningless. This is the case insofar as, even if what hap-
pens after death remains mysterious and unexplained, we can be
certain that the end of life is not the end of everything.8

8
I am pleased to thank Micah Liben, Natick, Massachusetts, for research assist-
ance that substantially contributed to this article, and Professor Gary Porton, Uni-
versity of Illinois, for reading and carefully responding to an earlier version.
 11. DEATH AND AFTERLIFE IN THE LATER RABBINIC
SOURCES: THE TWO TALMUDS AND ASSOCIATED
MIDRASH-COMPILATIONS

Jacob Neusner
University of South Florida and Bard College

Throughout the Oral Torah, the main point of the theological escha-
tology—the theory of last things—registers both negatively and af-
firmatively. Death does not mark the end of the individual human
life, nor exile the last stop in the journey of Holy Israel. Israelites will
live in the age or the world-to-come, all Israel in the land of Israel;
and Israel will comprehend all who know the one true God. The
restoration of world order that completes the demonstration of God’s
justice encompasses both private life and the domain of all Israel. For
both, restorationist theology provides eternal life; to be Israel means
to live. So far as the individual is concerned, beyond the grave, at a
determinate moment, man [1] rises from the grave in resurrection,
[2] is judged, and [3] enjoys the world-to-come. For the entirety of
Israel, congruently: all Israel participates in the resurrection, which
takes place in the land of Israel, and enters the world-to-come.
Restorationist eschatology flows from a same cogent logic: the last
things are to be known from the first. In the just plan of creation,
humanity was meant to live in Eden, and Israel in the land of Israel
in time without end. The restoration will bring about that long and
tragically-postponed perfection of the world order, sealing the dem-
onstration of the justice of God’s plan for creation. Risen from the
dead, having atoned through death, people will be judged in accord
with their deeds. Israel for its part, when it repents and conforms its
will to God’s, recovers its Eden. So the consequences of rebellion and
sin having been overcome, the struggle of the human will and God’s
word having been resolved, God’s original plan will be realized at the
last. The simple, global logic of the system, with its focus on the
world order of justice established by God but disrupted by humanity,
leads inexorably to this eschatology of restoration, the restoration of
balance, order, proportion—eternity.
The two principal components of the Oral Torah’s theology of last
things—resurrection and judgment; the world-to-come and eternal
268 jacob neusner

life—as laid out in the several documents do not fit together

seamlessly. In general, it would appear, the theology arranges matters
in categorical sequence, individual, then community. First comes the
resurrection of individuals, and, with it, judgment of individuals one
by one. Then, those chosen for life having been identified, “the
world-to-come” takes place, and that final restoration of perfection,
involving all Israel in place of Adam, lasts forever. Israel forms the
cohort of those chosen for life, and Israelites are restored to life in the
land of Israel. That sequence suggests a single, uninterrupted narra-
tive of last things, while, in general, passages that concern themselves
with resurrection do not ordinarily join together with composites that
deal with the world-to-come. While mutually complementary, each
of the two components of eschatology in the Oral Torah bears its
distinctive focus.
The basic logic of the monotheist system requires the doctrine of
personal resurrection, so that the life of this world may go onward to
the next. Indeed, without the conception of life beyond the grave, the
system as a whole yields a mass of contradictions and anomalies:
injustice to the righteous, prosperity to the wicked, never recom-
pensed. That explains why at one point after another, the path to the
future passes through, and beyond, the grave and the judgment that,
for all Israel with few exceptions, leads to eternity. The principal,
formed of righteousness in this world, continues and yields interest;
or, for sinners, punishment may take place in this world, while eter-
nal punishment goes onward as well, especially for the trilogy of
absolute sins: idolatry, incest (or fornication), and murder, capped by
gossip. But how all of this squares with the conception of “all Israel”
that transcends individual Israelites remains to be seen.
Let us now address the resurrection of the dead in its own terms.
That conviction is stated in so many words: in the end of days, death
will die. The certainty of resurrection derives from a simple fact of
restorationist theology: God has already shown that he can do it, so
Genesis Rabbah LXXVII:I.1: “You find that everything that the
Holy One, blessed be he, is destined to do in the age to come he has
already gone ahead and done through the righteous in this world.
The Holy One, blessed be he, will raise the dead, and Elijah raised
the dead.”
The paramount composite on the subject derives its facts, demon-
strating the coming resurrection of the dead, from the Written To-
rah, which, as we realize, serves as counterpart to nature for philoso-
 death and afterlife in the later rabbinic sources 269

phy, the source of actualities. Sages deem urgent the task of reading
outward and forward from Scripture, and at the critical conclusion of
their theological system the Oral Torah focuses upon Scripture’s evi-
dence, the regularization of Scripture’s facts. But the doctrine of
resurrection as defined by the principal (and huge) composite of the
Talmud of Babylonia contains a number of components: 1) origin of
the doctrine in the Written Torah; 2) the gentiles and the resurrec-
tion of the dead; 3) the distinction between the days of the messiah
and the world-to-come; 4) the restoration of Israel to the land of
Israel. Here is the systematic exposition (B. San. 11:1-2 I.22ff/91b):
I.22A. R. Simeon b. Laqish contrasted [these two verses]: “It is writ-
ten, ‘I will gather them…with the blind and the lame, the
woman with child and her that trail travails with child together’
(Jer. 31:8), and it is written, ‘Then shall the lame man leap as a
hart and the tongue of the dumb sing, for in the wilderness shall
waters break out and streams in the desert’ (Is. 35:6). How so
[will the dead both retain their defects and also be healed]?
B. “They will rise [from the grave] bearing their defects and then
be healed.”
The first inquiry deals with the problem of the condition of the body
upon resurrection and finds its resolution in the contrast of verses,
yielding the stated doctrine: the dead rise in the condition in which
they died and then are healed. Next comes the question of what
happens to the gentiles:
I.23A. Ulla contrasted [these two verses]: “It is written, ‘He will de-
stroy death forever and the Lord God will wipe away tears from
all faces’ (Is. 25:9), and it is written, ‘For the child shall die a
hundred years old…there shall no more thence an infant of
days’ (Is. 65:20).
B. “There is no contradiction. The one speaks of Israel, the other
of idolators.”
But then after the resurrection, the gentiles have no role except in
relationship to Israel:
C. But what do idolators want there [after the resurrection]?
D. It is to those concerning whom it is written, “And strangers shall
stand and feed your flocks, and the sons of the alien shall be your
plowmen and your vine-dressers” (Is. 61:5).
The clear distinction between the days of the messiah, involving, as
we have seen, the resurrection of the dead, and the world-to-come, is
now drawn:
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I.24A. R. Hisda contrasted [these two verses]: “It is written, ‘Then the
moon shall be confounded and the sun ashamed, when the
Lord of hosts shall reign’ (Is 24:23), and it is written, ‘Moreover
the light of the moon shall be as the light of seven days’ (Is
30:26).
B. “There is no contradiction. The one refers to the days of the
messiah, the other to the world-to-come.”
The world-to-come demands attention in its own terms. Samuel’s
doctrine, that the world-to-come is marked solely by Israel’s return to
the land of Israel—that is, the restoration of humankind to Eden—
requires attention in its own terms:
C. And in the view of Samuel, who has said, “There is no differ-
ence between the world-to-come and the days of the messiah,
except the end of the subjugation of the exilic communities of
Israel”?
D. There still is no contradiction. The one speaks of the camp of
the righteous, the other the camp of the Presence of God.
I.25A. Raba contrasted [these two verses]: “It is written, ‘I kill and I
make alive’ (Deut. 32:39), and it is written, ‘I wound and I heal’
(Deut. 32:39). [The former implies that one is resurrected just
as he was at death, thus with blemishes, and the other implies
that at the resurrection all wounds are healed.]
B. “Said the Holy One, blessed be he, ‘What I kill I bring to life,’
and then, ‘What I have wounded I heal.’“
Since people will enjoy individual existence beyond death, at the
resurrection, death itself must be fated to die. We simply complete
the exposition of the principle by encompassing an important detail.
The first component of the doctrine of the resurrection of the
dead—belief both that the resurrection of the dead will take place
and that it is the Torah that reveals that the dead will rise—is fully
exposed in a fundamental composition devoted by the framers of the
Mishnah to that subject. The components of the doctrine fit together,
in that statement, in a logical order. 1) In a predictable application of
the governing principle of measure for measure, those who do not
believe in the resurrection of the dead will be punished by being
denied what they do not accept. Some few others bear the same fate.
2) But to be Israel means to rise from the grave, and that applies to
all Israelites. That is to say, the given of the condition of Israel is that
the entire holy people will enter the world-to-come, which is to say,
will enjoy the resurrection of the dead and eternal life. “Israel” then
is anticipated to be the people of eternity. 3) Excluded from the
category of resurrection and the world-to-come, then, are only those
 death and afterlife in the later rabbinic sources 271

who by their own sins have denied themselves that benefit. These are
those that deny that the teaching of the world-to-come derives from
the Torah, or who deny that the Torah comes from God, or hedon-
ists. Exegesis of Scripture also yields the names of three kings who
will not be resurrected, as well as four commoners; also specified
generations: the flood, the dispersion, and Sodom, the generation of
the wilderness, the party of Korah, and the Ten Tribes. We can
generalize: 1) the dead will rise; 2) God will do it; 3) the dead then are
judged; 4) those who are justified will inherit the age or world-to-
come; and the messiah will come to mark the advent of the final
drama, though his exact role and tasks beyond that basic function as
signifier do not attain much clarity, or, at least, do not coalesce as a
consensus I can identify.
That is not the only formulation of the resurrection of the dead.
Scripture forms only one source for truth, though it is the main one.
Nature also dictates its own, complementary logic. That accounts for
the more general framing of the same matter, outside of the setting of
Scripture. Here Eliezer Haqqappar establishes that the complemen-
tary logic of birth is death, and of death, resurrection (M. Ab. 4:21):
A. R. Eliezer Haqqappar says, “Those who are born are destined to
die, and those who die are destined for resurrection..
B. “And the living are destined to be judged so as to know, to make
known, and to confirm that (1) he is God, (2) he is the one who
forms, (3) he is the one who creates, (4) he is the one who under-
stands, (5) he is the one who judges, (6) he is the one who gives
evidence, (7) he is the one who brings suit, (8) and he is the one
who is going to make the ultimate judgment.
C. “Blessed be he, for before him are not (1) guile, (2) forgetfulness,
respect for persons, (4) bribe taking, for everything is his.
D. “And know that everything is subject to reckoning.
E. “And do not let your evil impulse persuade you that Sheol is a
place of refuge for you.
F. “For (1) despite your wishes were you formed, (2) despite your
wishes were you born, (3) despite your wishes do you live, (4)
despite your wishes do you die King of kings of kings, the Holy
One, blessed be he.”
Nothing in this passage limits resurrection to Israel, but the context
of the saying, in tractate Abot, defines Israel as the frame of dis-
course. Elsewhere, the view that Israel alone will be resurrected is
stated explicitly. Those who die in the land of Israel, and the right-
eous overseas, will enjoy the resurrection of the dead at the end of
days, but gentiles are explicitly excluded, just as the theological logic
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that distinguishes Israel and the Torah from the gentiles and idolatry
requires (Pesiqta Rabbati I:VI.4):
A. Thus you have learned that those who die in the land of Israel will
live in the days of the messiah, and the righteous who die overseas
come to it and live in it.
Those overseas—not being righteous—are explicitly excluded, but
what about gentiles in the land of Israel?
B. If that is the case, then will the gentiles who are buried in the Land
also live?
C. No, Isaiah has said, “The neighbor shall not say, I too have suf-
fered pain. The people who dwell therein shall be forgiven their sin
“(Is. 33:24).
D. The sense is, “My evil neighbors are not going to say, “We have
been mixed up [with Israel and will share their fate, so] we too
shall live with them.”
Now comes the explicit identification of Israel as those who are for-
given their sin, having repented in accord with the vocation of the
Torah:
E. But that one that was the people dwelling therein [is the one that
will live], and what is that people? It is the people that has been
forgiven its sin, namely, those concerning whom it is said, “Who is
God like you, who forgives sin and passes over transgression for the
remnant of his inheritance” (Mic. 7:18) [which can only be Israel].
The theology of the gentiles certainly points toward the conclusion
set forth here, that only Israel will be resurrected from the dead. The
weight of opinion, the formulation of authoritative composites, all
point to the exclusion of gentiles from the resurrection of the dead
and consequently also from the world-to-come.
The details of judgment that follows resurrection prove less ample.
The basic account stresses that God will judge with great mercy. But
the Oral Torah presents no fully-articulated story of judgment.
Within the documents of the Oral Torah, we have little narrative to
tell us how the judgment will be carried on. Even the detail that
through death a person has already atoned, which is stated in so
many words in the context of repentance and atonement, plays no
role that I can discern in discussions of the last judgment. What we
do know concerns two matters, When does the judgment take place?
And by what criteria does God decide who inherits the world-to-
come? As to the former: the judgment is comparable to the annual
judgment for man’s fate in the following year. It will happen either at
 death and afterlife in the later rabbinic sources 273

the beginning of the New Year on the first of Tishre, when, annually,
man is judged, or on the fifteenth of Nisan, when Israel celebrates its
freedom from Egyptian bondage and begins its pilgrimage to Sinai.
The detail is subject to dispute, leaving the main point to stand as
normative doctrine (B. R.H. 1:1 LXIII, 10b):
A. It is taught on Tannaite authority:
B. R. Eliezer says, “In Tishre, the world was created; in Tishre, the
patriarchs Abraham and Jacob were born; in Tishre, the patriarchs
died; on Passover, Isaac was born; on New Year, Sarah, Rachel,
and Hannah were visited; on New Year, Joseph left prison; on New
Year, bondage was removed from our ancestors in Egypt; in Nisan,
they were redeemed; in Tishre, they are destined to be redeemed
[again].”
C. R. Joshua says, “In Nisan, the world was created; in Nisan, the
patriarchs Abraham and Jacob were born; in Nisan, the patriarchs
died; on Passover, Isaac was born; on New Year, Sarah, Rachel,
and Hannah were visited; on New Year, Joseph left prison; on New
Year, bondage was removed from our ancestors in Egypt; in Nisan,
they were redeemed; in Nisan, they are destined to be redeemed
again.”
The final judgment lasts for a period of time, not forever, and at that
point the resurrected who have endured in judgment pass to the
world-to-come or eternal life. When the judgment comes, it will last
for twelve (or six) months; this we know because Scripture is explicit.
We have only to identify the correct verse of Scripture (M. Ed. 2:10):
A. Also he [Aqiba] would list five things which [last for] twelve
months:
B. (1) the judgment of the generation of the Flood is twelve months;
C. (2) the judgment of Job is twelve months;
D. (3) the judgment of the Egyptians is twelve months;
E. (4) the judgment of Gog and Magog in the time to come is twelve
months;
F. and (5) the judgment of the wicked in Gehenna is twelve months,
G. as it is said, “It will be from one month until the same month [a
year later]” (Is. 66:23).
H. R. Yohanan b. Nuri says, “From Passover to Pentecost, as it is
said, ‘From one Sabbath until the next Sabbath’ (Is. 66:23).”
The point is established by identifying five classes of persons that
come under judgment and assigning them all to the term of judg-
ment specified by the prophet. What about the others, who, when
judged, are rejected? Those who do not pass judgment then are
condemned and do not pass on to eternal life, and these are Israelites
274 jacob neusner

or gentiles who have a special relation to Israel. Other gentiles do not

even figure in judgment at all as indicated by M. San. 10:2.
How to stand in judgment, meaning, go through the process of
divine review of one’s life and actions and emerge in the world-to-
come, restored to the land that is Eden? Proper conduct and study of
Torah lead to standing in judgment and consequent life of the world-
to-come, and not keeping the one and studying the other deny entry
into that life. What is striking is the appeal to Eden for just this
message about reentry into the Land (Lev. Rabbah XXXV:VI:1f.):
1.A. Said R. Abba b. Eliashib, “[The reference at Lev. 26:3 to statutes
is to] statutes that bring a person into the life of the world-to-come.
B. “That is in line with the following verse of Scripture: ‘And he who
is left in Zion and remains in Jerusalem will be called holy, every-
one who has been recorded for life in Jerusalem’ (Is. 4:3)—for he is
devoted to [study of] Torah, which is called the tree of life.”
Now comes the reference to Eden in the context of the world-to-
come:
2.A. It has been taught in the name of R. Eliezer, “A sword and a scroll
wrapped together were handed down from heaven, as if to say to
them, ‘If you keep what is written in this [scroll], you will be saved
from the sword,
B. “‘and if not, in the end [the sword] will kill you.’
C. “Whence is that proposition to be inferred? ‘He drove out the
man, and at the east of the Garden of Eden he placed the cheru-
bim, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to guard the
way to the tree of life’ (Gen. 3:4).
D. “The [first] reference to ‘the way’ refers to the rules of proper
conduct, and the second reference, ‘[the way to] the tree of life’
refers to the Torah.”
The same message is given in a different framework:
3.A. It was taught in the name of R. Simeon b. Yohai, “A loaf and a
rod wrapped together were given from heaven.
B. “It was as if to say to them, ‘If you keep the Torah, lo, here is
bread to eat, and if not, lo, here is a staff with which to be smitten.’
C. “Whence is that proposition to be inferred? ‘If you are willing and
obedient, you shall eat the good of the land; but if you refuse and
rebel, you shall be devoured by the sword’ (Is. 15:19-20).”
The world-to-come, involving resurrection and judgment, will be at-
tained through the Torah, which teaches proper conduct. That sim-
ple doctrine yields the proposition here.
When it comes to the last judgment, we need hardly be reminded
 death and afterlife in the later rabbinic sources 275

that God judges in a merciful manner. If the balance is equal, then

God inclines the scale to forgiveness. Given that mercy complements
justice, so that justice is not possible without mercy, that trait of
God’s judgment conforms to the logic that pervades the entire sys-
tem. We deal first with the quality of justice involving measure for
measure; and much of the judgment is worked out in this life, so that
the world-to-come awaits those who suffer (Y. San. 10:1 I:2):
H. If the greater part of his record consisted of honorable deeds and
the smaller part, transgressions, they exact punishment from him
[in this world].
I. If the smaller part of the transgressions he has done are of the
lesser character, [he is punished] in this world so as to pay him his
full and complete reward in the world-to-come.
J. If the greater part of his record consisted of transgressions and the
lesser part of honorable deeds, they pay him off with the reward of
the religious deeds he has done entirely in this world, so as to exact
punishment from him in a whole and complete way in the world-
to-come.
K. If the greater part of his record consisted of honorable deeds, he
will inherit the Garden of Eden. If the greater part consisted of
transgressions, he will inherit Gehenna.
Now we reach the critical point at which mercy enters in:
L. [If the record] was evenly balanced:
M. Said R. Yose b. Haninah, “‘…forgives sins…,’ is not written here,
but rather, ‘…forgives [a] sin’ (Num. 14:18). That is to say, the
Holy One, blessed be he, tears up one bond [recorded] among the
transgressions, so that the honorable deeds then will outweigh the
others.”
N. Said R. Eleazar, “‘And that to thee, O Lord, belongs steadfast
love. For thou dost requite a man according to his work’ (Ps.
62:13). ‘His deed’ is not written here, but ‘like his deed’—if he has
none, you give him one of yours.”
Others concur in this same view, and I have identified no contrary
opinion in the entire Oral Torah:
O. That is the view of R. Eleazar, who said, “‘[The Lord passed
before him, and proclaimed, The Lord, the Lord, a God merciful
and gracious, slow to anger,] and abounding in steadfast love [and
faithfulness]’ (Exod. 34:6). He tips the scale in favor of mercy.”
P. R. Jeremiah said R. Samuel bar R. Isaac asked about the follow-
ing: “‘Righteousness guards him whose way is upright, but sin
overthrows the wicked’ (Prov. 3:6). ‘Misfortune pursues sinners, but
prosperity rewards the righteous’ (Prov. 13:21). ‘Toward the
scorner he is scornful, but to the humble he shows favor’ (Prov.
276 jacob neusner

3:34). ‘He will guard the feet of his faithful ones; but the wicked
shall be cut off in darkness; [for not by might shall a man prevail]’
(1 Sam. 2:9). ‘The wise will inherit honor, but fools get disgrace’
(Prov. 3:35).
Q. “Now do they build a fence and lock the doors? And thus indeed is
the way, that they do build a fence and lock the doors, [as we shall
now see that God makes it possible for the righteous to do right-
eous deeds and confirms the wicked in their way too].”
Man has a role in eliciting divine assistance in the matter:
R. R. Jeremiah in the name of R. Samuel bar R. Isaac: “[If] a man
keeps himself from transgression once, twice, and three times, from
that time forth, the Holy One, blessed be he, keeps him from it.”
S. What is the Scriptural basis for this statement?
T. “‘Behold, God does all these things, twice, three times, with a
man’“ (Job 33:29).
Here is a further statement of the systemic realization of the future:
the righteous will ultimately triumph, the wicked will ultimately suf-
fer, in the age to come if not in this age. Then this age is the time in
which the righteous atone for their sins, and in which the wicked do
not. Then in the world-to-come, the wicked will be punished, not
having prepared and atoned. The systemic variable now allows God
to intervene and help the righteous to attain the merit that they
require.
At the outset we stressed that the resurrection of the dead focuses
upon Israel as Israelite. Therefore the resurrection comes to mind
whenever death takes an Israelite life, and the monument to the
resurrection is the burial ground, the locus of eternity. That is why
the coming resurrection of the dead is called to mind whenever one
is located in a cemetery (Y. Ber. 9:1 III:8):
A. One who passes between graves [in a cemetery], what does he
recite? “Blessed [art Thou, O Lord, our God, King of the Uni-
verse], who resurrects the dead” (cf., T. Ber. 6:6).
B. R. Hiyya in the name of R. Yohanan [says he recites], “Blessed
[art Thou, O Lord, our God, King of the Universe], who is true to
his word to resurrect the dead.”
C. R. Hiyya in the name of R. Yohanan [says he recites], “He who
knows your numbers, he shall awaken you, he shall remove the
dust from your eyes. Blessed [art Thou, O Lord, our God, King of
the Universe], who resurrects the dead.”
D. R. Eliezer in the name of R. Hanina [says he recites], “He who
created you with justice, and sustained you with justice, and re-
moved you [from the world] with justice, and will resurrect you
 death and afterlife in the later rabbinic sources 277

with justice; he who knows your numbers, he shall remove the dust
from your eyes. Blessed [art Thou, O Lord, our God, King of the
Universe], who resurrects the dead.”
Gentiles once more find no place in the matter:
E. This is the case [that one recites this blessing only if he passes
among the graves of] the Israelite dead. But concerning [one who
passes among the graves of] the gentile dead, he says, “Your
mother shall be utterly shamed, and she who bore you shall be
disgraced. Lo, she shall be the last of the nations, a wilderness dry
and desert” (Jer. 50:12).
The resurrection of the dead of Israel then marks the beginning of
that process of restoration in response to Israelite repentance that
God built into the very creation of the world. It also brings the final
punishment to the gentiles, that is, those who do not know God.
The final sub-topic of the theme of resurrection as of the world-to-
come, already encountered, now has systematically to be addressed:
what of the messiah? The messiah figures at every point in the cat-
egorical structure of the Oral Torah’s eschatological thinking: 1)
troubles attendant upon the coming of the messiah, which either do
or do not bring about Israelite 2) repentance, as we have already
seen, leading to 3) resurrection, as we shall see here, and a task then
to be performed 4) the world-to-come. But, important in two free-
standing categories (resurrection, world-to-come) and a presence in
the third (repentance), on its own account the messiah-theme simply
does not coalesce into an autonomous category. That theme certainly
does not define a categorical imperative in the way that Israel and
the gentiles, complementarity and correspondence, and the eschato-
logical categories, sin and atonement, resurrection and the world-to-
come, all do. By contrast, to take a specific case, the gentiles and
idolatry encompass a broad range of data, interact with other catego-
ries, form a focus of thought and a logical center; but they cannot
then be reduced to some other categories, e.g., Israel and the Torah,
private life, repentance. For its part the messiah-theme forms a subset
of several categories and by itself does not take up an autonomous
presence in the theology of the Oral Torah. The messiah-theme fits
into the primary categories but is itself divisible among them.
So if the principal components of the Oral Torah’s eschatological
theology turn out to be Israel in its two dimensions, private and
public, what of that individual who figures prominently, but not con-
sistently or in a single coherent role, in all eschatological discourse?
278 jacob neusner

The figure of the messiah forms an important but hardly ubiquitous

theme. If Israel repents, the messiah will come. A messiah who exhib-
its inappropriate characteristics—arrogance in place of the humility
that is the requirement of salvation—embodies the anti-messiah. So
the messiah exemplifies what is required. But what the messiah actu-
ally does, as distinct from what his advent signifies, is hardly clear in
the setting of repentance. When it comes to resurrection, on the one
side, and the world-to-come, on the other, the figure of the messiah
again plays its part. But while the doctrine of resurrection and the
one of the world-to-come encompass in each case a few simple and
coherent principles, when it comes to the messiah matters prove
otherwise.
Not only is there no categorical imperative identified with the
messiah-theme. There also is no logic that affords structure and sys-
tem to that theme, no Rabbinic messiology. To make the point in the
simplest possible way: we cannot imagine a Christianity without (a)
Christology. Here we have a Judaism in which the messiah-theme in
the eschatological framework takes on significance only in contexts
defined by other categories altogether. That he comes and goes, ap-
pears and then passes from the scene, in fact is not a single figure but
two (or more) marks his systemic subordination, the messiah-theme’s
categorical inadequacy.
That fact is born out by the first and most important element of
theological thinking about the messiah-theme: the multiplicity of
messiahs, even in the eschatological setting—the multiplicity and also
the transience. Like Elijah, the messiah is forerunner and precursor,
but he is hardly an enduring player in the eschatological drama.
Only God is. Time and again we shall see that the messiah refers
back to God for instructions on what he is to do. A mark of categori-
cal subordination of the messiah-theme is the diversity of messiahs,
each with his own story. One messiah comes out of the line of
Joseph, another out of the line of David. Both messiahs (and others in
that same classification, for example, the messiah who is anointed to
be high priest in charge of the army [Deut. 20:2-7, M. Sotah Chapter
Eight]), are mortal and subject to the human condition. One messiah
is murdered, replaced by another. The messiah, moreover, is subject
to the impulse to do evil, like any other person. The messiah plays a
transient role in the eschatological drama. People want the messiah
to come—that is the premise of the stories told in connection with
repentance—but that is only because he will inaugurate the eschato-
 death and afterlife in the later rabbinic sources 279

logical drama, not because, on his own, he will bring the drama to its
conclusion. Only God will.
Most strikingly, the messiah-theme plays itself out not only in the
eschatological categories but in those that concern sin and the evil
inclination. This presentation of the theme is accomplished through a
complex composite at B. Suk. 5:1D-5:4. The Mishnah-passage in-
vites from the framers of the Talmud’s composite some comments on
the “evil inclination,” which in this context refers to libido in particu-
lar. Then we have a rather substantial discussion of sexuality. But a
second look shows us that the composite concerns not sexual
misbehavior or desire therefor, so much as the messiah-theme. Here
we find the allegation that the messiah son of Joseph was killed
because of the evil inclination; the messiah son of David will be saved
by God; the evil inclination then is made the counterweight to the
messiah and a threat to his survival. It is overcome, however, by
study of the Torah. The composite is hardly coherent in detail, but
its thematic program—Torah, messiah, in the context of the Festival
of Tabernacles—imposes upon the topic of the Mishnah-paragraph a
quite different perspective from that set forth in the Mishnah itself.
The pertinent part of the composite is as follows (B. Suk. 5:1D-5:4
II.3ff./52a-b):
3.A. [With regard to “And the land shall mourn, every family apart; the
family of the house of David apart, and their wives apart” (Zech.
12:12)]: What was the reason for the mourning [to which reference
is made in Zechariah’s statement]?
B. R. Dosa and rabbis differed on this matter.
C. One said, “It is on account of the messiah, the son of Joseph, who
was killed.”
D. And the other said, “It is on account of the evil inclination, which
was killed.”
The dispute balances the death of the messiah against the death of
the inclination to do evil, though these surely are opposites, and that
leads to the inquiry, why should the land mourn at the death of the
latter?
E. Now in the view of him who said, “It is on account of the messiah,
the son of Joseph, who was killed,” we can make sense of the
following verse of Scripture: “And they shall look on me because
they have thrust him through, and they shall mourn for him as one
mourns for his only son” (Zech. 12:10).
F. But in the view of him who has said, “It is on account of the evil
inclination, which was killed,” should this be an occasion for
280 jacob neusner

mourning? It should be an occasion for rejoicing. Why then should

[the people] have wept?
The eschatological drama now comes into play: the disposition of the
inclination to do evil at the end of days, which is to say, the key-
action in the restoration of Eden, God’s own intervention in securing
for man the capacity to carry out God’s will without obstacle:
G. [The answer] is in accord with the exposition of R. Judah: “In the
time to come, the Holy One, blessed be he, will bring the evil
inclination and slay it before the righteous and before the wicked.
L. “And so too the Holy One, blessed be he, will share their amaze-
ment, as it is said, “‘Thus says the Lord of Hosts. If it be marvelous
in the eyes of the remnant of this people in those days, it shall also
be marvelous in my eyes’ (Zech. 8:6).”
So much for the messiah son of Joseph; now what of the messiah son
of David, and how does he relate to the events just now portrayed?
5.A. Our rabbis have taught on Tannaite authority:
B. To the messiah, son of David, who is destined to be revealed—
speedily, in our days!—the Holy One, blessed be he, will say, “Ask
something from me, and I shall give it to you.”
C. So it is said, “I will tell of the decree…this day have I begotten you,
ask of me and I will give the nations for your inheritance” (Ps. 2:7-
8).
D. When [the messiah, son of David] sees the messiah, son of Joseph,
killed, he will say before [God], “Lord of the Age, I ask of you only
life.”
E. He will say to him, “Life? Before you spoke of it, David your father
had already prophesied about you, as it is said, ‘He asked life of
you, you gave it to him, [even length of days forever and ever]’ (Ps.
21:5).”
Here the messiah-theme works itself out in the story of two messiahs,
one who was killed, the other not. This latter messiah is the one who
will participate in the process of the end of time, beginning with the
resurrection—a matter more clearly expressed in sources we shall
consider in a moment.
First, let us ask about the place, within the composite to which
reference has just now been made, of the messiah and the message
that is conveyed by introducing that figure. A rapid recapitulation of
the propositions in the large composite tells us what the Talmud has
added to the Mishnah’s topic, which is, the Festival of Tabernacles.
None of them has any bearing at all on the topic at hand, but by
introducing the set of propositions into the present context, the topic
before us is recast:
 death and afterlife in the later rabbinic sources 281

1. God created the impulse to do evil but regrets it: there are four
things that the Holy One, blessed be he, regrets he created, and
these are they: Exile, the Chaldeans, the Ishmaelites, and the incli-
nation to do evil.
2. The impulse to do evil is weak at the outset but powerful when it
becomes habitual. The inclination to do evil to begin with is like a
spider’s thread and in the end like cart ropes. In the beginning one
calls the evil inclination a passer-by, then a guest, and finally, a
man of the household. The impulse to do evil affects one’s status in
the world-to-come.
Now the integral character of the insertion about the messiah be-
comes clear:
3. The messiah was killed on account of the impulse to do evil. That
is why the messiah, son of David, asked God to spare his life and
not allow him to be killed the way the messiah son of Joseph was
killed.
4. The impulse to do evil is stronger for sages than for others. But
they possess the antidote in the Torah: “For it has done great
things” (Joel 2:20): “And against disciples of sages more than
against all the others.” A man’s inclination [to do evil] overcomes
him every day. A man’s inclination to do evil prevails over him
every day and seeks to kill him. If that vile one meets you, drag it
to the house of study. If it is a stone, it will dissolve. If it is iron, it
will be pulverized.
Here is where the self-evident connection proves revealing. If we did
not know that the Festival of Tabernacles was associated with an
autumnal celebration of the advent of rain and the fructifying of the
fields, on the one side, and also identified as the occasion for the
coming of the messiah, on the other, then on the strength of this
extrinsic composite, we should have formed the theory that those two
protean conceptions governed.
So the self-evident connections reveal an entire cluster of con-
nected categories and subsets. As is common in Rabbinic sources, we
treat in one and the same setting private life and public affairs, this
world and its concerns and the world-to-come as well. The private
life—the role of the sexual impulse in one’s personal affairs and
fate—and the destiny of Israel in the world-to-come and the
messianic future correspond. God governs in both dimensions, the
personal and the political. And sages then represent the realm of
affairs: suffering more than others from the desires to sin, but better
able than others to resist those desires. The upshot is, the messiah-
theme is subordinate to the purpose of the compiler of the composite,
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who wishes to underscore the link between overcoming the evil im-
pulse and the advent of the world-to-come, beginning with the ap-
pearance of a (not “the”) messiah.
Apart from the definitive composite just now examined, we find
other statements on the subject that enjoy normative standing. A
well-documented component of the messiah-theme introduces the
motif of tribulations to attend the coming of the messiah. That may
or may not involve the war of Gog and Magog prophesied by
Ezek.37-38. It also may or may not be intended to bring about
repentance, to lead to the resurrection of the dead. Matters are some-
what confused. Sages do not much expand on the war of Gog and
Magog, only insisting that God will be with Israel at that time. I have
not identified systematic expositions of the details of that war, only
allusions invited by the context of repentance at the last (Sifra
CCLXIX:II.12):
A. “[Yet for all that, when they are in the land of their enemies,] I will
not spurn them, neither will I abhor them so as to destroy them
utterly:”
D. But “I will not spurn them”—in the time of Vespasian.
E. “…neither will I abhor them”—in the time of Greece.
F. “…so as to destroy them utterly and break my covenant with
them”—in the time of Haman.
G. “…for I am the Lord their God”—in the time of Gog.
Here is a statement that in the age of the coming of the messiah, the
war of Gog and Magog will be so terrifying as to make people forget
prior troubles (T. Ber. 1:11):
J. Similarly, “Remember not the former things, nor consider the
things of old” (Is. 43:18). Remember not the former things—these
are [God’s mighty acts in saving Israel] from the [various] king-
doms; nor consider things of old—these are [God’s mighty acts in
saving Israel] from Egypt.
K. “Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth” (Is.
43:19)—this refers to the war of Gog and Magog [at the end of
time].
L. They drew a parable, to what may the matter be compared? To
one who was walking in the way and a wolf attacked him, but he
was saved from it. He would continually relate the incident of the
wolf. Later a lion attacked him, but he was saved from it. He forgot
the incident of the wolf and would relate the incident of the lion.
Later still a serpent attacked him, but he was saved from it. He
forgot the other two incidents and would continually relate the
incident of the serpent.
 death and afterlife in the later rabbinic sources 283

M. So, too are Israel: the recent travails make them forget about the
earlier ones.
The same point is made at greater length at the next statement
(Pesiqta Rabbati XV:XV:1=Pesiqta deRab Kahana V:X.13):
13 A. And rabbis say, “In the septennate in which the son of David
comes, in the first of the seven year spell, ‘I shall cause it to rain on
one town and not on another’ (Amos 4:7).
B. “In the second, the arrows of famine will be sent forth.
C. “In the third there will be a great famine, and men, women, and
children will die in it, and the Torah will be forgotten in Israel.
D. “In the fourth, there will be a famine which is not really a famine,
and plenty which is not plentiful.
E. “In the fifth year, there will be great plenty, and people will eat and
drink and rejoice, and the Torah will again be renewed.
F. “In the sixth there will be great thunders.
G. “In the seventh there will be wars.
H. “And at the end of the seventh year of that septennate, the son of
David will come.”
I. Said R. Abbuha/Abbayye, “How many seven-year-cycles have
there been like this one, and yet he has not come.”
Another doctrine simply links the coming of the messiah to trials in
general, not connected with the great war of Gog and Magog:
J. But matters accord with what R. Yohanan said, “In the generation
in which the son of David comes, disciples of sages will perish, and
those that remain will have faint vision, with suffering and sighing,
and terrible troubles will come on the people, and harsh decrees
will be renewed. Before the first such decree is carried out, another
will be brought along and joined to it.”
K. Said R. Abun, “In the generation in which the son of David
comes, the meeting place will be turned over to prostitution, the
Galilee will be destroyed, Gablan will be desolate, and the
Galileans will make the rounds from town to town and find no
comfort.
L. “Truthful men will be gathered up, and the truth will be fenced in
and go its way.”
M. Where will it go?
N. A member of the household of R. Yannai said, “It will go and
dwell in small flocks in the wilderness, in line with this verse of
Scripture: Truth shall be among bands (Is. 59:15).”
But it is not only the dreadful war that will accompany the messiah’s
advent. It also is the end of the social order altogether, the violation
of all the rules of hierarchical classification that signify that order:
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O. Said R. Nehorai, “In the generation in which the son of David

comes, youths will humiliate old men, sages will rise before youths,
a slave girl will abuse her mistress, a daughter-in-law her mother-
in-law, a man’s enemies will be his own householders, a son will
not be ashamed for his father, the wisdom of scribes will turn
rotten, the vine will give its fruit but wine will be expensive.”
P. Said R. Abba bar Kahana, “The son of David will come only to a
generation which is liable to be subject to total extermination.”
Q. Said R. Yannai, “The son of David will come only to a generation
the principal leaders of which are like dogs.”
R. Said R. Levi, “If you see one generation after another blasphem-
ing, look for the footsteps of the messiah-king.
S. “What verse of Scripture indicates it? ‘Remember Lord the taunts
hurled at your servant, how I have borne in my heart the calum-
nies of the nations; so have your enemies taunted us, O Lord,
taunted the successors of your anointed king’ (Ps. 89:51).
T. “What follows? ‘Blessed is the Lord for ever, amen, amen’ (Ps.
89:52).”
The tribulations of the end time thus may or may not involve the war
of Gog and Magog, precipitated at the coming of the messiah. A
variety of troubles will mark that same event. I am inclined to think
that motivating Israel to repent forms the logical connection between
these troubles and his advent is to be drawn, but that is not consist-
ently alleged in the main statements on the subject. The messiah
need not do more than signal a variety of events, political and social,
that he neither brings about nor calls to a conclusion.
Whatever the other uses of the messiah-theme, one fact is clear:
the messiah is linked to the resurrection of the dead, which inaugu-
rates the period culminating in the world-to-come. But even here the
messiah—the one who descends from David—whose advent will
mark the resurrection will not play an enduring role in the eschato-
logical process; he is a subordinated figure. That fact underscores
what we have noticed about the messiah-theme’s not forming a cat-
egory unto itself but serving to fill out details in autonomous catego-
ries. For one thing, his role is limited, a determinate stage in the
coming age. But how long will the messiah’s period last?
Within the doctrine that that period is finite and determinate,
ending with the resurrection of the dead or coincident with it, a
number of positions, each within the logic of the exegesis of selected
verses, are worked out. The first has three generations (Sifre Deut.
CCCX:V.1):
 death and afterlife in the later rabbinic sources 285

A. “…consider the years of ages past:”

B. This refers to the generation in which the messiah will be, which
encompasses, in time, three generations, as it is said, “They shall
fear you while the sun endures and so long as the moon, through-
out all generations” (Ps. 72:5).
Another view maintains that the time of the messiah is limited to
forty years, or four hundred, or some determinate period. Then the
dead will be raised (Pesiqta Rabbati I:VII.1):
A. How long are the days of the messiah?
B. R. Aqiba says, “Forty years, in line with this verse: ‘And he af-
flicted you and allowed you to hunger’ (Deut. 8:3), and it is written,
‘Make us glad according to the days in which you afflicted us’ (Ps.
90:15). Just as the affliction lasted forty years in the wilderness, so
the affliction here is forty years [with the result that the glad time
is the same forty years].”
C. Said R. Abin, “What verse of Scripture further supports the posi-
tion of R. Aqiba? ‘As in the days of your coming forth from the
land of Egypt I will show him marvelous things’ (Mic. 7:15).”
Aqiba’s brief period is now extended by Eliezer, then others expand
it still further, all concurring that the messiah’s place in the resurrec-
tion of the dead is determinate, his role contingent on the unfolding
of a process of which he forms only a chapter:
D. R. Eliezer says, “Four hundred years, as it is written, ‘And they
shall enslave them and torment them for four hundred years’ (Gen.
15:13), and further it is written, ‘Make us glad according to the
days in which you afflicted us’ (Ps. 90:15).”
Now we move from the record of history to the facts of nature,
invoking a different analogy, with strikingly different consequences:
E. R. Berekhiah in the name of R. Dosa the Elder says, “Six hundred
years, as it is written, ‘As the days of a tree shall be the days of my
people’ (Is. 65:22).
F. “How long are the days of a tree? A sycamore lasts for six hundred
years.”
From the world of nature we progress to the world of time, a day and
its length:
G. R. Eliezer b. R. Yose the Galilean says, “A thousand years, as it is
written, ‘For a thousand years in your sight as are but as yesterday
when it has passed’ (Ps. 90:40), and it is written, ‘The day of
vengeance as in my heart but now my year of redemption is come’
(Is. 63:4).
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H. “The day of the Holy One, blessed be he, is the same as a thou-
sand years for a mortal.”
Once the metaphor of the day takes over, then meanings imputed to
“day” are sorted out as well:
I. R. Joshua says, “Two thousand years, ‘according to the days in
which you afflicted us’ (Ps. 90:15).
J. “For there are no fewer days [as in the cited verse] than two, and
the day of the Holy One, blessed be he, is the same as a thousand
years for a mortal.”
K. R. Abbahu says, “Seven thousand years, as it is said, ‘As a bride
groom rejoices over his bride will your God rejoice over you’ (Is.
62:5), and how long does a groom rejoice over his bride? It is seven
days,
L. “and the day of the Holy One, blessed be he, is the same as a
thousand years for a mortal.”
We move from “day” to “year,” and the discussion trails off:
M. Rabbi says, “You cannot count it: ‘For the day of vengeance that
was in my heart and my year of redemption have come’ (Is. 63:4).”
N. How long are the days of the messiah? Three hundred and sixty-
five thousand years will be the length of the days of the messiah.
The details being left unclear, the main claim stands: the messiah
functions for a finite period. But what does he do in that time?
This is the point at which the messiah-theme’s subordination to
other categories becomes clear. In the present context, the advent of
the messiah plays a role in the raising of the dead. Indeed, I have
several times taken as fact the presence of the doctrine that, at the
end of the messiah’s period, the dead are raised. This is now explic-
itly stated, the resurrection being joined to the restoration of those
who are raised from the grave to the land of Israel. But at no point do
I identify the claim that the messiah is the one who raises the dead,
the language that is used always simply saying, then—when he has
come—the dead will rise or live; but God is the one who gives them
breath:
2.A. Then the dead of the land of Israel who are Israelites will live and
derive benefit from them, and all the righteous who are overseas
will come through tunnels.
B. And when they reach the Land, the Holy One, blessed be he, will
restore their breath, and they will rise and derive benefit from the
days of the messiah along with them [already in the Land].
C. For it is said, “He who spread forth the earth and its offspring gives
breath to the people on it” (Is. 42:5).
 death and afterlife in the later rabbinic sources 287

Does the messiah bear responsibility for raising the dead? I do not
identify that claim in so many words. Then, who bears responsibility
for doing so? It is Israel; that point is made time and again when
pertinent. Israel’s own repentance will provide the occasion, and God
will do the rest. It is when Israel has repented that the messiah will
come. It follows that the messiah’s advent and activity depend upon
Israel, not on the messiah’s own autonomous decision, character, and
behavior. Israel decides issues of its own attitude toward God and
repents, God decides to respond to the change in will. But not a
comparable, categorical imperative, the messiah only responds to
Israel’s decision on when he should make his appearance to signal
the change in the condition of humankind, and the messiah responds
to God’s decision, taking a part within that sequence that comes to
an end with Elijah.
That accounts for the heavy emphasis upon not the messiah’s
intervention but Israel’s own responsibility. We already have noted
the tendency to assign the coming of the messiah to times of suffer-
ing, which will have brought Israel to repent, and that is once more
stated in the present context as well:
3.A. When will the royal messiah come?
B. Said R. Eleazar, “Near to the messiah’s days, ten places will be
swallowed up, ten places will be overturned, ten places will be
wiped out.”
C. And R. Hiyya bar Abba said, “The royal messiah will come only to
a generation the leaders of which are like dogs.”
D. R. Eleazar says, “It will be in the time of a generation that is
worthy of annihilation that the royal messiah will come.”
E. R. Levi said, “Near the time of the days of the messiah a great
event will take place in the world.”
The time of the messiah is compared to the period of redemption,
and it is held to serve as a preparatory period, leading to the resurrec-
tion of the dead (systemic equivalent to the entry into the Land/
Eden, which, by rights, ought to have marked the end of time). That
inquiry into the correct analogy explains the definitions that are
given, forty years, as with the generation of the wilderness, of four
hundred years, as in the torment prior to redemption from Egypt,
and so on down. The divisions of time do not come to an end with
the end of history as written by the pagan kingdoms. From the time
that their rule comes to an end, with the coming of the messiah and
the restoration of Israelite government, a sequence of further, differ-
entiated periods commences; the time of the messiah is only the first
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of these. Then comes the resurrection of the dead, along with the last
judgment. Only at that point does the world-to-come get underway,
and time will no longer be differentiated.
This conviction that the messiah’s period is determinate has,
moreover, to be set into the context of the periods of the history of
creation. Specifically, the history of the world is divided into three
units of two thousand years each, the age of chaos, Torah, and
messiah: with the Torah succeeding the age of chaos, and the mes-
siah, the age of the Torah (B. A.Z. 1:1 II.5/9a):
A. The Tannaite authority of the household of Elijah [stated], “The
world will last for six thousand years: two thousand years of chaos,
two thousand years of Torah, two thousand years of the time of the
messiah. But because of the abundance of our sins, what has
passed [of the foreordained time] has passed.”
Israel now lives in the period of the Torah, which succeeds upon the
chaos brought about by man and educates the heart of the people of
the Torah:
B. As to the two thousand years of Torah, from what point do they
commence? If one should say that it is from the actual giving of the
Torah [at Mount Sinai], then up to this time there has not been so
long a span of time. For if you look into the matter, you find that,
from the creation to the giving of the Torah, the years comprise
two thousand and part of the third thousand [specifically, 2,448;
from Adam to Noah, 1,056; from Noah to Abraham, 891; from
Abraham to the Exodus, 500, from the Creation to Exodus and
the giving of the law at Sinai, 2,448 years]. Therefore the period is
to be calculated from the time that Abraham and Sarah “had
gotten souls in Haran,” for we have learned by tradition that
Abraham at that time was fifty-two years old. Now to what meas-
ure does the Tannaite calculation deduct? Since the Tannaite
teaching is 448 years, you find that from the time that Abraham
and Sarah “had gotten souls in Haran,” to the giving of the Torah
were 448 years.
The advent of the messiah, then, marks a stage in the unfolding of
periods (not “history”) within the logic of creation: chaos, sin; Torah,
repentance; messiah, restoration—and then, as the other calculations
have indicated, comes the world-to-come or eternal life, an age be-
yond time and change.
What about the gentiles in all this? Naturally, as soon as the cat-
egory Israel and the Torah is invoked, its counterpart and opposite,
the gentiles and idolatry, complements and balances the discussion.
 death and afterlife in the later rabbinic sources 289

So too, when it comes to the messiah, the gentiles are given a role.
Specifically, the nations will bring gifts to the messiah, and it will be
a great honor to them that they are permitted to do so. But their
participation in the messiah’s activities only underscores Israel’s cen-
trality to the human drama (B. Pes. 10:7 II.22/118b):
A. Said R. Kahana, “When R. Ishmael b. R. Yose fell ill, Rabbi sent
word to him: ‘Tell us two or three of the things that you said to us
in the name of your father.’
B. “He sent word to him, ‘This is what father said: “What is the
meaning of the verse of Scripture, ‘Praise the Lord all you nations’
(Ps. 117:1)? What are the nations of the world doing in this setting?
This is the sense of the statement, ‘Praise the Lord all you nations’
(Ps. 117:1) for the acts of might and wonder that he has done with
them; all the more so us, since ‘his mercy is great toward us.’”’
Now the nations take a more specific role in relationship to the
messiah, each claiming a relationship to the messiah on account of its
dealings with Israel:
C. “‘And further: “Egypt is destined to bring a gift to the messiah. He
will think that he should not accept it from them. The Holy One,
blessed be he, will say to the messiah, ‘Accept it from them, they
provided shelter for my children in Egypt.’ Forthwith: ‘Nobles shall
come out of Egypt, bringing gifts’ (Ps. 68:32).
D. “The Ethiopians will propose an argument a fortiori concerning
themselves, namely: ‘If these, who subjugated them, do this, we,
who never subjugated them, all the more so!’ The Holy One,
blessed be He, will say to the messiah, ‘Accept it from them.’
Forthwith: ‘Ethiopia shall hasten to stretch out her hands to God’
(Ps. 68:32).
Rome always comes at the climax, and, in any sequence of the na-
tions, will always mark the end of the discussion. Here Rome evokes
its descent from Esau, a given for the Oral Torah, or from Edom,
thus part of the extended family of Israel:
E. “Wicked Rome will then propose the same argument a fortiori in
her own regard: ‘If these, who are not their brethren, are such,
then we, who are their brethren, all the more so!’ The Holy One,
blessed be He, will say to Gabriel, ‘Rebuke the wild beast of the
reeds, the multitude of the bulls’ (Ps. 68:32)—‘rebuke the wild
beast and take possession of the congregation.’
F. “Another interpretation: ‘Rebuke the wild beast of the reeds’—
who dwells among the reeds, ‘the boar out of the wood ravages it,
that which moves in the field feeds on it’ (Ps. 80:14).”’”
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Here, the messiah accords honor to the nations, except for Rome,
the empire that will fall at the redemption of Israel now at hand. The
governing concern, the nations relate to the messiah only through
Israel, registers. The messiah then plays a part in the resurrection of
the dead, on the one side, and the restoration of Israel, on the other.
But the messiah-doctrine clearly encompasses the view that the mes-
siah will not endure for the world-to-come but himself carries out the
task assigned to him and then passes from the scene, a doctrine
clearly indicated by the specification of the period of time assigned to
the messiah.
To summarize: The later Rabbinic sources, which reached closure
from the fifth through the seventh centuries, form a doctrinally-co-
herent corpus, in which the framers set forth the same, cogent mes-
sage about many, diverse topics. Their governing concern focused
upon the definition of Israel as a supernatural community, continu-
ous with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and heir to their merit. Hence
the death of an individual found its meaning within the encompass-
ing and nourishing community.
Death is not a form of suffering at all but natural to the human
condition; sages in no way deemed death a challenge to the doctrine
of God’s goodness, but encompassed within that doctrine the fact
that man dies (Gen. Rabbah IX:V.1-3):
A. In the Torah belonging to R. Meir people found written, “And
behold, it was very good” (Gen. 1:31) [means] “And behold, death
is good.” [The play is on the word “very,” M’D, and “death,”
MWT.]
B. Said R. Samuel bar Nahman, “I was riding on my grandfather’s
shoulder, going up from my town to Kefar Hana through Bet
Shean, and I heard R. Simeon b. R. Eleazar in session and ex-
pounding in the name of R. Meir, “‘And behold, it was very
good’—‘And behold, death is good.’”
C. Hama bar Hanina and R. Jonathan:
D. Hama bar Hanina said, “The first man was worthy not to have to
taste the taste of death. And why was the penalty of death applied
to him? The Holy One, blessed be he, foresaw that Nebuchad-
nezzar and Hiram were destined to turn themselves into gods.
Therefore the penalty of having to die was imposed upon man.
That is in line with this verse of Scripture: ‘You were in Eden, the
garden of God’ (Ezek. 28:13). And was Hiram actually in Eden?
But he said to him, ‘You are the one who caused that one in Eden
to have to die.’”
E. Said R. Jonathan to him, “If so, God should have decreed death
only for the wicked, but not for the righteous. Rather, it was so that
 death and afterlife in the later rabbinic sources 291

the wicked should not be able hypocritically to pretend to repent,

so that they should not have occasion to say, ‘Are not the righteous
living on and on? It is only because they form a treasure of merit
accruing on account of the practice of doing religious duties as well
as good deeds. We too shall lay up a treasure of merit accruing
from doing religious duties and good deeds.’ What would come out
is that the things they do would not be done sincerely, [for their
own sake, but only for the sake of gaining merit]. [That is what is
good about death. It prevents the wicked from perverting the holy
life by doing the right thing for the wrong reason. Everyone dies,
so there is no point in doing religious duties only so as to avoid
dying.]”
F. Yohanan and R. Simeon b. Laqish:
G. Yohanan said, “On what account was a decree of death issued
against the wicked? It is because, so long as the wicked live, they
anger the Holy One, blessed be he. That is in line with the follow-
ing verse of Scripture: ‘You have wearied the Lord with your
deeds’ (Mal. 2:17). When they die, they stop angering the Holy
One, blessed be he. That is in line with the following verse of
Scripture: ‘There the wicked cease from raging’ (Job 3:17). There
the wicked cease angering the Holy One, blessed be he.
H. “On what account, however, is the decree of death issued against
the righteous? It is because so long as the righteous live, they have
to conduct warfare against their impulse to do evil. When they die,
they find rest. That is in line with this verse: ‘And there the weary
are at rest’ (Job 3:17). ‘It is enough, we have labored long
enough.’”
I. Simeon b. Laqish said, “It is so as to give an ample reward for the
one, and to exact ample punishment from the other. To give am-
ple reward to the righteous, who really never were worthy of hav-
ing to taste the taste of death but accepted the taste of death for
themselves. Therefore: ‘in their land they shall possess double’ (Is.
61:7).
J. “‘And to exact ample punishment from the wicked,’ for the right-
eous had not been worthy of having to taste the taste of death but
they had accepted the taste of death for themselves on account [of
the wicked]. Therefore: ‘And destroy them with a double destruc-
tion’ (Jer. 17:18).”
The fact of death requires no explanation, nor does it have to be
explained away. Death is essential to the divine plan for creation. It
would not be possible to find a more powerful and one-sided en-
dorsement of that position.
 12. DEATH AND AFTERLIFE:
THE INSCRIPTIONAL EVIDENCE

Leonard V. Rutgers
University of Utrecht

What can Jewish funerary inscriptions tell us about Jewish notions of

death and afterlife? The discovery, in the late nineteenth and twenti-
eth centuries, of several large collections of Jewish epitaphs sparked a
lively interest in precisely that question. Yet in due course it also led,
perhaps inevitably, to various scholarly controversies concerning the
interpretation of individual inscriptions and the formulae they con-
tain. Here I briefly review these controversies, explore the methodo-
logical problems inherent in the more traditional approaches to Jew-
ish funerary epigraphy, and suggest a different way to study Jewish
epitaphs bearing on issues of death and afterlife.
Jewish funerary inscriptions have long attracted the attention of
scholars interested in Jewish notions of death and life after death.
Beginning to become available in considerable quantities from 1859
onwards, such inscriptions provided scholars with an exciting new
means to supplement reconstructions that, until then, were based
exclusively on the study of literary sources.1 For some time, study of
literary sources and of inscriptions went hand in hand. Just as previ-
ously unknown or inaccessible literary sources concerning the Jews
and their views on death and afterlife were coming to the attention of
the scholarly community—for example in the form of R.H. Charles’s
1913 edition of The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament in
English or H. Odeberg’s 1928 edition of 3 Henoch—a whole series of
previously unknown Jewish epitaphs was also brought to light. This
happened particularly in Rome, where, in the early 1930s, Jean-
Baptiste Frey discovered new epigraphic materials during his peregri-
nations in the Jewish Vigna Randanini catacomb off the Via Appia,

1
The first major collection of late antique Jewish funerary inscriptions was discov-
ered in Rome in 1859; see R. Garrucci, Cimitero degli antichi ebrei scoperto recentemente in
Vigna Randanini (Rome, 1862) and id., Dissertazioni archeologiche di vario argomento (Rome,
1864-1865). On the discovery of the Jewish catacombs of Rome, see in general, L.V.
Rutgers, The Jews in Late Ancient Rome. Evidence of Cultural Interaction in the Roman
Diaspora (Leiden, 1995), pp. 1-49.
294 leonard v. rutgers

and in Beth Shearim (Galilee), where important large-scale excava-

tions were undertaken beginning in 1936.2
These and similar epigraphic discoveries generated excitement to
such an extent that, at first, scholars did not fully realize that the
information that can reasonably be derived from this type of evi-
dence is limited. Thus J.-B. Frey, author of the first modern corpus of
Jewish inscriptions, and B. Lifshitz, editor of the inscriptions found
during the excavations in Beth Shearim, both published separate
articles in which they accepted wholeheartedly the slightest turning of
a phrase as a significant reference to yet another notion of (Jewish)
post-mortem existence. Considering the eagerness with which they
set about their work, it should perhaps not come as a surprise that
these articles have in common a near total disregard for methodo-
logical considerations.3 Citing Frey as his most important source,
Lifshitz recently has summed up this approach: “It has been long
since stated that a hope for eternal life is reflected in nearly all the
Jewish tomb inscriptions.”4
Instead of critiquing Frey and Lifshitz for their partisan evaluation
of the pertinent evidence, it is perhaps more useful to explore the
rationale for their enthusiasm. Contemplating their work, it is not
difficult to discover what fueled this ebullience. As they were deci-
phering one inscription after another in the dark underground galler-
ies of the catacombs, Frey and Lishitz believed that they possessed a
data-base that was enormous not merely in terms of the number of
items it contained but that, in representing the Jewish community at-
large, had clear advantages over the extant written sources. While
such sources had often undergone a long process of redaction and
possible corruption during the course of transmission over a millen-
nium and a half or more, it could be argued that inscriptions had
never been subject to subsequent editing. On the contrary, inscrip-
tions always preserve—as long as they survive—their original word-

2
J.-B. Frey, “Nouvelles inscriptions inédites de la catacombe juive de la Via
Appia,” in RACrist 10 (1933), pp. 27-50; B. Mazar, Beth She`arim. Report on the Excava-
tions During 1936-1940. Volume I. Catacombs 1-4 (Jerusalem, 1973).
3
J.-B. Frey, “La vie de l’au-delà dans les conceptions juives au temps de Jésus-
Christ,” in Biblica 13 (1932), pp. 129-168 and B. Lifshitz, “La vie de l’au-delà dans les
conceptions juives. Inscriptions grecques de Beth Shearim,” in RB 68 (1961), pp.
401-411.
4
M. Schwabe and B. Lifshitz, Beth She‘arim. Volume II. The Greek Inscriptions (New
Brunswick, 1974), p. 224. Note that Lifshitz cites Frey almost literally. See Frey’s
remarks in CIJ I, p. cxxxii.
 death and afterlife: the inscriptional evidence 295

ing. In addition, while literary sources are usually the product of a

single individual or reflect the ideas of a circumscribed group of
people, inscriptions reflect, it could be argued, the ideas of a much
larger, and therefore more representative, segment of past
populations. In the words of Frey, who based his observations on his
painstaking study of a large corpus of Jewish inscriptions deriving
from the Jewish catacombs of ancient Rome, these inscriptions could
be said to reflect the world of the rich and poor equally well.5 Such
a statement illustrates the extent to which Frey (and later also
Lifshitz) was heir to a scholarly tradition the origin of which can be
traced back to the seventeenth century and that viewed inscriptions
(as opposed to written sources) as among the most significant sources
of documentation for the true historian.6
Taking into account the detail and care with which they immersed
themselves in the study the funerary inscriptions, it may strike us as
paradoxical that neither Frey nor Lifshitz ever reflected systemati-
cally on the epistemological side of their respective enterprises. Not
even once do we find a discussion of the fact that many of these
inscriptions are formulaic in character and that, contrary to the well-
known adage, it is simply not true that “the stones speak for them-
selves.” That Frey and Lifshitz, in their capacity as editors and trans-
lators of these inscriptions, were not just go-betweens who neutrally
transmitted information contained in these inscribed stones, but
rather interpreters who read in these stones concerns they themselves
regarded as important, is particularly evident when we turn to the
work of Frey. Even though he went at great length to discuss indi-
vidual inscriptions and formulae in depth in an academically accept-
able fashion, he ultimately collected all this evidence for the sole
purpose of showing that “the Christian revelation has abolished all
errors and human inventions, having substituted doubt and fluctua-
tions of thought with certitude, and, showing the exact meaning of
ancient truths, it has opened horizons until then unexpected.”7 Tak-
ing into account that Jewish concepts of death and afterlife evolved
into fairly complex constructs beginning in the Hellenistic period,
one can begin to understand why Frey was so interested in the study

5
Frey, “La vie,” p. 141.
6
See, in general, A. Momigliano, “Storia antica e antiquaria,” in id., Sui fondamenti
della storia antica (Turin, 1984), pp. 3-45.
7
Frey, “La vie,” p. 129.
296 leonard v. rutgers

of these concepts and the supposedly chaotic ways in which they

developed. Such a study permitted him to argue that “the most char-
acteristic trait of the Jewish theological system is that it does not have
a system”—a civilized way of saying that, unlike in Christianity, in
Judaism everything goes.8 Yet the absence of such a system did not
prevent Frey from also arguing, rather inconsistently, that the in-
scriptions could at the same time be used to show that all the Jews
subscribed to this or that idea uniformly.9
In Frey’s scheme of things, then, the inscriptions from the Jewish
catacombs of Rome were nothing but a gift from heaven. They pro-
vided him with incontrovertible evidence, he believed, that, while the
exclusivistic Jews had patently helped “prepare the way for the good
news,” they themselves continued to hold “rather weak and honestly
unacceptable” if not completely “desperate” views concerning life in
this world and in the world to come.10 In Frey’s work one thus
encounters a culmination of ideas that had been germinating for
some time already, but that other scholars had thus far failed to
explore in any systematic fashion.11
In more recent studies of Jewish funerary epigraphy, Frey’s and
Lifshitz’s readings have, not surprisingly, largely been replaced by
more sober interpretations. Even though scholars continue to argue
that it is “legitimate to expect to find in funerary inscriptions aspira-
tions and yearnings of people for life after death,” they are no longer
willing to accept the idea that such aspirations find expression in all
inscriptions including the most concisely-formulated ones.12 Thus, in
his Duke University dissertation of 1974, S. Nagakubo pointed out
that of all Greek inscriptions found in the Jewish catacombs of Beth
Shearim, no more than 15% deal with life after death. 13 Thoroughly
investigating both literary and inscriptional materials bearing on Jew-
ish notions of afterlife, U. Fischer has gone even further, arguing that
among the Jews of the diaspora, such notions did not play any role at
all, or, more precisely, that the surviving evidence is simply too am-

8
Frey, ibid., p. 130.
9
Frey, ibid., pp. 142 and 145.
10
Frey, ibid., pp. 165-168.
11
See, for example, the remarks of E. Bormann, “Zu den neu entdeckten
Grabschriften jüdischer Katakomben von Rom,” in WS 34 (1912), p. 368.
12
S. Nagakubo, Investigation into Jewish Concepts of Afterlife in the Beth She‘arim Greek
Inscriptions (Durham, 1974), p. 153.
13
Ibid., pp. 152-238.
 death and afterlife: the inscriptional evidence 297

biguous to maintain that such notions concerned late antique diaspo-

ra Jews very much.14 If one accepts Fischer’s rather minimalistic
approach with its emphasis on “what one cannot prove,” the total
number of inscriptions that can potentially inform about Jewish no-
tions of the afterlife undergoes a sensible reduction. According to my
own estimates, once one applies the principles enunciated by Fischer,
97% of the roughly six hundred Jewish funerary inscriptions from
Rome does not refer to the afterlife.15 Along similar lines, if one
would apply these principles to the inscriptions found in Beth
Shearim, the percentage calculated by Nagakubo as lacking refer-
ences to life after death (85%) would likewise increase considerably.
While Nagakubo’s and Fischer’s more critical approach has
helped us better to appreciate the extent to which earlier scholarship
over-interpreted the sources, it is important to recall that methodo-
logically, their approach does not really represent a step forward.
Indeed, their method is identical to that of their predecessors, inas-
much as, even as they have turned the assertions of earlier scholars
by 180 degrees, they have not posed the crucially important question
of how one can actually know whether a word or a phrase refers to a
Jewish notion of the afterlife. Thus, where earlier scholars had argued
that the frequently occurring expression ÈÜñóåé ïšäårò PèÜíáôïò
should be taken as indicating hope in immortality,16 such an inter-
pretation was now dispensed with without further ado.17 Along simi-
lar lines, while past scholars had interpreted the word EÁóèÞñ in a
Jewish funerary inscription from Rome as referring to the deceased’s
journey among the “stars,”18 others now began to favor a straightfor-
14
U. Fischer, Eschatologie und Jenseitserwartungen im hellenistischen Judentum (Berlin and
New York, 1978), p. 236.
15
This percentage is based on a sampling of the inscriptions published in JIWE 2.
No significant differences can be ascertained between the three major Jewish cata-
combs in Rome, namely, the Monteverde (98%), the Villa Torlonia (97.5%), and the
Vigna Randanini catacomb (94.9%). The percentage of inscriptions lacking refer-
ences to life after death originating in places other than these three catacombs
likewise amounts to 97.7%.
16
M. Simon, “ÈÜñóåé ïšäårò PèÜíáôïò. Étude de vocabulaire religieux,” in id.,
Le Christianisme antique et son contexte religieux. Scripta Varia. Volume I (Tübingen, 1981),
p. 77, and see especially E. Dinkler, “Shalom-Eirene-Pax: Jüdische Sepulkralinschrif-
ten und ihr Verhältnis zum frühen Christentum,” in RACrist 50 (1974), pp. 133-134.
17
Fischer, op. cit., pp. 223-224.
18
E.g., M. Simon, “Conceptions et symboles sotériologiques chez les Juifs de la
Diaspora,” in U. Bianchi and M.J. Vermaseren, eds., La soteriologia dei culti orientali
nell’impero romano (Leiden, 1982), pp. 794, who is the last in a long line of scholars to
put forward such a suggestion. The inscription in question is CIJ 306 = JIWE 2, no.
91.
298 leonard v. rutgers

ward onomastic explanation, seeing in it a free rendering of the name

Esther.19 A similar change can also be observed in the interpretation
of the phrase Åpò Èåüò.20 Yet, except for saying that in the majority
of cases the epigraphic evidence did not support an eschatological
interpretation because of the condensed way in which many of the
inscriptions had been phrased, representatives of this new, minimal-
istic approach never specify why their readings should be preferred
over the interpretations of those who saw in the epigraphic record an
enormous reservoir that provided modern scholars with a unique
opportunity to reconstruct the development of Jewish eschatological
thought in late antiquity in all of its diversity. 21 The corollary of
accepting this minimalistic reading is that the only Jewish inscriptions
to inform us in any substantial manner about the afterlife are a few
metric inscriptions such as the famous Regina-inscription from
Rome, the “Homeric” inscriptions from Beth Shearim, and a rather
unusual collection of nineteen such verse inscriptions in Greek from
Leontopolis in Lower Egypt—exceptions, one might argue, that con-
firm the rule.22
Although a minimalist approach has certainly been salutary in
some ways, it also needs to be stressed that in general it has also had
a rather negative impact on the development of scholarship in this
particular area. If it is indeed true that we cannot determine what
meanings inhabit individual words or phrases, then it ultimately be-
comes impossible not only to reconstruct the history of Jewish
eschatological thought using inscriptions, but also to reflect on the
interaction between Jewish and Graeco-Roman views on death and
afterlife—a topic that has long interested the scholarly community,

19
H. Solin, “Juden und Syrer im westlichen Teil der römischen Welt. Eine
ethnisch-demographische Studie mit besonderer Berüksichtigung der sprachlichen
Zustände,” in ANRW II.29.2 (1983), p. 717, n. 287.
20
For the earlier interpretation, see Lifshitz, op. cit., p. 402, who refers to
Peterson. For a revised interpretation, see L. di Segni, “Åpò Èåüò in Palestinian
inscriptions,” in SCI 13 (1994), pp. 94-115.
21
For an up-to-date review of the evidence, see P.W. van der Horst, Ancient Jewish
Epitaphs. An Introductory Survey of a Millenium of Jewish Funerary Epigraphy (300 BCE - 700
CE) (Kampen, 1991), pp. 114-126.
22
On the Regina-inscription, see CIJ 476 = JIWE 2, no. 103. For the Beth
Shearim materials, see Lifshitz, op. cit., pp. nos. 127 and 183. On the inscriptions
from Leontopolis, see the discussion by P.W. van der Horst, “Jewish Poetical Tomb
Inscriptions,” in id. and J.W. van Henten, eds., Studies in Early Jewish Epigraphy
(Leiden, 1994), pp. 129-145.
 death and afterlife: the inscriptional evidence 299

precisely because inscriptions appeared to furnish new and independ-

ent evidence to help unravel the intricacies of late antique Jewish
thought on this matter.23 Put differently, if—as the minimalists main-
tain—we cannot know what ideas were on the minds of those who
carved or commissioned these inscriptions, why should we bother to
study these epigraphic remains in the first place?
This brings us to a discussion of an observation referred to earlier,
namely the idea that it is logical to expect to find in Jewish funerary
inscriptions references to death and afterlife. 24 Even though such a
statement appears to make sense, at least at first sight, it needs to be
stressed that in reality it superimposes on the inscriptions a pattern of
expectation that may seem logical to modern scholars but that does
not necessarily do justice to these ancient epitaphs themselves. If we
want to find an answer to the question of why Jewish funerary in-
scriptions contain so few truly explicit references to the afterlife, it is
necessary to determine what the inscriptions actually tell us instead of
investigating how these inscriptions meet or do not meet our (precon-
ceived) expectations. Upon closer investigation, it is amazing to ob-
serve how few scholars have opted for such a line of inquiry and how
many have displayed an almost complete lack of interest in the larger
archaeological, that is, functional, context from which these inscrip-
tions derive.

A different Approach to the study of Jewish funerary epigraphy

Study of Jewish late antique epitaphs reveals that in the majority of

cases these inscriptions focus on this world and not on the world-to-
come—an observation that holds true independently of whether
these epitaphs derive from the land of Israel or the diaspora. Without
exception, such inscriptions include the name of the deceased and
sometimes also that of his or her family. The purpose of including the
deceased’s name was not only to commemorate this person or to
facilitate subsequent locating of the grave in the long and winding
galleries of the catacombs or in a crowded cemetery sub divo; it was,

23
See, e.g., S. Lieberman, “Some Aspects of After Life in Early Rabbinic Litera-
ture,” in Wolfson Jubilee Volume. Volume I (Jerusalem), pp. 495-532, and Nagakubo,
op. cit., passim.
24
See Nagakubo, op. cit.
300 leonard v. rutgers

rather, also to establish the legal ownership of that grave.25 This

explains, among other things, why grave robbers who were caught
had to pay a fine not to the Jewish community alone but to the fisc
as well.26 It also explains why in Beth Shearim one sometimes en-
counters inscriptions placed over the entrance to or on walls of larger
subterranean burial complexes rather than in front of individual
graves.
It is the inclusion of such names that leads, in a fairly significant
number of cases, to the inclusion of further information concerning
the deceased. In the case of the Jewish epitaphs from Rome that were
composed in Greek and Latin, the role played by the deceased in the
Jewish community receives special mention. One-fifth of all Jewish
funerary inscriptions from that city include references of this type—
an extraordinary high number, especially when one places it into the
larger context of late antique epigraphic practices.27 In addition, the
Roman-Jewish inscriptions in Greek display a remarkable preference
for neologisms that stress one’s love for the Jewish community or,
alternatively, one’s attachment to Jewish traditions.28 Of all the epi-
thets one encounters in these inscriptions, the word “holy” occupies a
place of special importance. While it never occurs in Christian in-
scriptions from Rome, this word may be found in 24.5% of all Jewish
inscriptions from that city. Significantly, it is also characteristic of
Jewish funerary inscriptions from other places in the Mediterranean
as late antique evidence from Sicily and Beth Shearim makes abun-
dantly clear.29
The just-noted focus in Jewish epitaphs on commemorative pat-
terns that stress the deceased’s role in this world rather than his or
her fate in the next one gives us a partial answer to the question of
why references to death and afterlife do not feature very prominently
in these inscriptions. Contrary to what we would perhaps expect, late
antique Jews apparently did not consider funerary inscriptions the

25
On this issue, see in general F. de Visscher, Le droit des tombeaux romains (Milan,
1963) and R.P. Saller and B.D. Shaw, “Tombstones and Roman Family Relations in
the Principate: Civilians, Soldiers, and Slaves,” in JRS 74 (1984), p. 126.
26
Cf. CIJ nos. 741, 775, 776, and 799.
27
For discussion, see Rutgers, The Jews of Ancient Rome, pp. 198-201.
28
Ibid., pp. 191-198.
29
For a discussion of the Roman evidence, see ibid., pp. 194 and 201; for Sicily,
see id., “Interaction and Its Limits. Some Notes on the Jews of Sicily in Late Antiq-
uity,” in ZPE 115 (1997), p. 249; for Beth Shearim, see Lifshitz, op. cit., p. 410.
 death and afterlife: the inscriptional evidence 301

most appropriate vehicle directly to express their ideas on matters

relating to the afterlife. Aside from the metric inscriptions—the only
ones long enough to offer enough room for elaborations of a more
philosophical kind—we may suppose that in some cases there must
have been a purpose behind this. To put it differently, we may as-
sume that it was no accident that, often, the little amount of available
space was used to bring to the fore this-worldly as opposed to and
instead of other-worldly concerns.
One explanation for this phenomenon would be to suggest that, in
this respect, Jewish inscriptions followed pagan epigraphic practices,
for 80% of the pagan epitaphs too refer exclusively to the deceased’s
earthly existence.30 But such an explanation is not very satisfactory,
especially because it ascribes certain characteristics to the Jewish
materials without having first investigated what those characteristics
actually are. It therefore is more useful to concentrate on an analysis
of a set of seemingly off-hand words standard in many Jewish epi-
taphs from late antiquity. The words I have in mind include “Sha-
lom” (Peace), “Amen,” and “Sela”—words that have in common
that they frequently conclude Jewish inscriptions carved in Aramaic,
Hebrew, Greek, and Latin.
Many Jewish funerary inscriptions close with a phrase in which the
deceased is wished peace.31 Even though these inscriptions never tell
us very precisely how the people responsible for erecting them viewed
this peace (peace in the grave, a peaceful journey to another world,
or peaceful existence in that other world?),32 the surviving evidence
suggests quite clearly that Jews throughout the ancient Mediterra-
nean held such a wish in high esteem. A comparison of the formula
one usually encounters in these inscriptions, namely, dí åkñÞíw ½
êïßìçóßò ášôï™ or ášôyò—that is “in peace his or her sleep”33 —
30
For a survey of the pagan materials, see D. Pikhaus, Levensbeschouwing en milieu in
de Latijnse metrische inscripties (Brussel, 1978).
31
In some cases, the word Shalom also precedes the inscription. For examples of
Shalom, see L. Y. Rahmani, A Catalogue of Jewish Ossuaries in the Collections of the State of
Israel (Jerusalem, 1994), nos. 13, 23, 24, 226, 286, 582, 682, and 694. And cf. nos.
217, 286, and 430; Lifshitz, ibid., nos. 28, 29, 69, 91, 178, 203, and 219; N. Avigad,
Beth She‘arim. Report on the Excavations During 1953-1958. Volume III. Catacombs 12-23
(Jerusalem, 1976), nos. 18, 24, 82; Y. Le Bohec, “Inscriptions juives et judaïsantes de
l’Afrique romaine,” in AntAfr17 (1981), nos. 7, 18, 22, 23, and 24; JIWE 1 and 2.
32
For a discussion of the possible interpretations of this phrase, see Fischer, op.
cit., pp. 217-219. Also important is the discussion in M. Ogle, “The Sleep of Death,”
in MAAR 11 (1933), pp. 88-92.
33
For examples, see JIWE 1 and 2.
302 leonard v. rutgers

with contemporary non-Jewish epigraphic materials suggests that

there may have been something specifically Jewish about the expres-
sion or, rather, about the concept on which it focuses.34 Bilingual
inscriptions from the Jewish necropolis at Jaffa make clear that
åkñÞíç must be understood as a Greek translation of the Hebrew
“Shalom”—this conforms also to what we would expect on the basis
of the evidence contained in the Septuagint, in which åkñÞíç is nor-
mally used to render “Shalom.”35
Jewish inscriptions in Latin found in Roman North Africa that
carry the phrase in pace et eirene furthermore show that whenever the
word pax appears in a Jewish funerary inscription, it is “Shalom” that
the commissioner has in mind.36 A series of Jewish funerary inscrip-
tions from Venosa (Basilicata, Southern Italy) that contain the phrase
“peace to his (or her) resting place” indeed suggests that the Jews
responsible for erecting these epitaphs may have had biblical lan-
guage on their minds (namely, Is. 57:2).37 In still other cases, the
Shalom-formula is extended into “Peace on Israel.” 38 Not infre-
quently, the word Shalom occurs in Jewish funerary inscriptions in
close conjunction with the second word of our list, Amen. Again, the
word Amen is used to round off an inscription that can contain
various types of information.39 The third word in our list, Sela, can
be said to fulfill a very similar function inasmuch as it usually appears
in exactly the same spot as Shalom and Amen, namely at the very
end of an inscription.40 Perhaps we can even add a fourth word to
our list, namely, åšëïãßá, which also appears at the end of funerary
inscriptions and which, like Shalom, is included as a blessing.41
One possible explanation for the inclusion of these terms would be
to see in words such as Shalom or Eulogia simple blessings that are
either directed at or, alternatively, that tell us about the deceased. Yet

34
For comparative materials, see Rutgers, op. cit., p. 191.
35
CIJ 948 and cf., no. 930.
36
Le Bohec, op. cit., nos. 20 and 51.
37
These inscriptions may be found in JIWE 1, nos. 70, 75, 85, 87, 89, 107, and
111.
38
For example JIWE 1, nos. 145, 183, 185, and 189. Cf. Ps. 125:8.
39
For examples, see JIWE 1, nos. 33, 35, 61, 107, 121, 129a, 145, 172, 183, and
187; JIWE 2, no. 596, and P.W. van der Horst, “The Jews of Ancient Crete,” in JJS
39 (1988), p. 198.
40
A. Scheiber, Jewish Inscriptions in Hungary (Budapest and Leiden, 1983), nos. 22
and 31.
41
JIWE 1, no. 152 and JIWE 2, nos. 292, 301, 459, and 432.
 death and afterlife: the inscriptional evidence 303

where it concerns the other two terms, Amen and Sela, it is unmis-
takable that they carry liturgical overtones. That this is so is particu-
larly evident when we turn from funerary inscriptions to the inscrip-
tions preserved in ancient synagogues. A study of such materials
rapidly reveals that all the words we have reviewed appear regularly
in epigraphic materials deriving from synagogue buildings. Thus, the
word Shalom occurs in synagogue inscriptions, for example, in
Ashdod where it concludes an inscription otherwise carved in Greek
as well as in Tiberias where it is likewise written in Hebrew and
preceded by the word Amen composed in Greek.42 Use of the word
Shalom was not limited to the land of Israel, as a bilingual inscription
in Hebrew and Latin from Taragona with the phrase “Peace upon
Israel, and upon ourselves, and upon our sons, Amen, Peace, Faith”
and an inscription from Cyprus that concludes with “Amen” make
clear.43
Keeping in mind the Mishnaic adage that blessings and curses
should be said in Hebrew, it becomes understandable why the word
Shalom is appended to inscriptions in its Hebrew rendering even
when the remainder of the inscription is in Greek or Latin. 44 This is
particularly evident in the case of the Jewish necropolis at Jaffa,
where only three of the inscriptions in Greek use the word åkñÞíç
while the other thirteen Greek inscriptions that include a reference to
peace prefer the word Shalom in its Hebrew rendering. The word
Sela also occurs regularly in houses of Jewish worship, for example,
in a famous inscribed mosaic floor from one of the synagogues of
ancient Jericho, where it appears in Greek in close conjunction with
the term Amen,45 or in a short Hebrew inscription from Ein Nashôt
on the Golan, where it is found in conjunction with the other words,
in the form “Amen, Amen, Sela, Shalom.”46 A list with similar such
examples could be extended much further. 47 The same holds true for
42
See L. Roth-Gerson, The Greek Inscriptions from Synagogues in Eretz-Israel (Jerusa-
lem, 1987), nos. 1 and 17 (in Hebrew).
43
JIWE 1, no. 185 and B, Lifshitz, Donateurs et fondateurs dans les synagogues juives
(Paris, 1967), no. 84.
44
M. Sot. 7:2 and 7:5.
45
See Roth-Gerson, op. cit., no. 10.
46
R.C. Gregg and D. Urman, Jews, Pagans, and Christians in the Golan Heights. Greek
and Other Inscriptions of the Roman and Byzantine Eras (Atlanta, 1996), p. 95.
47
See, e.g., the evidence collected by J. Naveh, On Stone and Mosaic. The Aramaic
and Hebrew Inscriptions from Ancient Synagogues (Jerusalem, 1978), nos. 16, 26, 33, 34, 35,
42, 69, and 70 (in Hebrew). The practice can also be observed on Jewish tombstones
from the Middle Ages, see Scheiber, op. cit., nos. 22 and 31.
304 leonard v. rutgers

the term “Eulogia,” which appears in a variety of synagogue settings

in later Roman Palestine as well as in the diaspora.48
That the terms we have reviewed carry a liturgical connotation is
too well known to require a detailed discussion. Suffice it to say that
this holds true for the word Amen, as is perhaps most evident from a
Rabbinic dictum according to which, “there is nothing greater before
God than the Amen with which Israel answers.”49 The same can also
be said to hold true for the word Sela—a term that derives from the
book of Psalms and that was widely used in the liturgy, for example,
in prayers such as the Eighteen Benedictions. The liturgical connota-
tions of these words have led scholars to posit a relationship between
the synagogue inscriptions and the liturgy practiced in the buildings
the inscriptions embellished.50 In some cases, inscriptions such as the
one discovered in Jericho provide us with the earliest version of litur-
gical formulae that resurface later in fully integrated fashion in Jewish
prayer books.51 In light of such a state of affairs, it makes sense to
hypothesize that the appearance, in Jewish epitaphs, of words derived
from the liturgy should be interpreted in a similar vein, namely, as
hinting at the existence of commemorative practices whose purpose it
was to honor the dead in a liturgically well-circumscribed fashion.
Even though we do not know very well whether a set liturgy for
the dead had emerged in Jewish circles in the late antique period,
and even though the so-called Hazkarat Neshamot memorial prayers
seem to have originated in a much later period, the proposed inter-
pretation is in line with our earlier observations concerning late an-
tique Jewish funerary inscriptions: these inscriptions inform, in the
very first place, about the world of the living. It may be argued that
just as many of the epitaphs focus on praising certain qualities of the
deceased and in highlighting the role he or she played in the Jewish
community, the inclusion, in these inscriptions, of short formulaic
phrases can be interpreted as summary references to the liturgical

48
Lifshitz, op. cit., nos. 2, 30, and 38; Roth-Gerson, op. cit., nos. 12 and 16; SEG
29 (1978), no. 103; and SEG 39 (1989), no. 663. And, cf., SEG 32 (1982), no. 1485.
49
Deut. Rabbah 7:1. See, in general, J. Heinemann, Prayer in the Talmud. Forms and
Patterns (Berlin, 1977), pp. 14-16 and 145, and B. Nitzan, Qumran Prayer and Religious
Poetry (Leiden, 1994), pp. 119-143.
50
See G. Foerster, “Synagogue Inscriptions and Their Relation to Liturgical Ver-
sions,” in Cathedra 17 (1981), pp. 12-40 (Hebrew).
51
See, e.g., N. Wieder, “The Jericho Inscription and Jewish Liturgy,” in Tarbiz 52
(1982-83), pp. 557-579.
 death and afterlife: the inscriptional evidence 305

practices celebrated by the living on the occasion of the passing away of

one or more of their loved ones. That the prayers of the living could
be effective in helping atone for the dead’s sins is born out, inciden-
tally, by a story recorded in 2 Maccabees 12. Relating how amulets
were found on the dead bodies of some of Judas Maccabeus’s fallen
soldiers, this passage places special emphasis on prayer in relation to
the resurrection of the dead, explaining that “if he were not expect-
ing the fallen to rise again, it would have been useless and foolish to
pray for them in death.”
One further argument should finally be explored within this dis-
cussion of the liturgical meaning of phrases appearing in late antique
Jewish funerary inscriptions. In exceptional cases, Jewish funerary
inscriptions cite passages from the Hebrew Bible. Such citations are
interesting not only in their own right but also because the selected
passages never occur in contemporary Christian inscriptions that also
carry such biblical citations. Two passages occur in the Jewish in-
scriptions again and again, Prov. 10:7 (“The memory of the righteous
for a blessing”) and, to a lesser degree, 1 Sam. 25:29 (“the Lord your
God will bundle your life in the bundle of the living.”)52 The latter
citation becomes especially popular in Jewish gravestones from medi-
eval times onwards when it appears in an abbreviated fashion.53 The
citation from Proverbs, on the other hand, was especially popular
already in antiquity. Its presence is particularly revealing in the
present context not only because it seems to address primarily the
world of the living but also because it appears with some frequency
on inscriptions found in synagogues, where it appears, in one case,
embedded in phrases that later turn up in certain versions of the
Qaddish as well.54

52
For a brief discussion, see S. Fine and L.V. Rutgers, “New Light on Judaism in
Asia Minor During Late Antiquity: Two Recently Identified Inscribed Menorahs,”
in JSQ 3 (1996), pp. 8-10, to which should be added Lifshitz, op. cit., no. 130,
Avigad, op. cit., no. 25 (p. 249), and 26 (p. 251). And, cf., CIJ 892.
53
For an example from the medieval Jewish cemetery of Buda, see Scheiber, op.
cit., no. 24. For more recent examples, see, among the various publications that
could be cited, the evidence collected by J. Reiss, Hier in der heiligen jüdischen Gemeinde
Eisenstadt. Die Grabinschriften des jüngeren jüdischen Friedhofes in Eisenstadt (Eisenstadt,
1995).
54
For example in Jericho, see Naveh, op. cit., no. 69, and Foerster, op. cit., pp.
23-25; for Tiberias, see M. Dothan, Hammath Tiberias. Early Synagogues and the Hellenistic
and Roman Remains (Jerusalem, 1983), p. 61, with further parallels; and for Qasrin, see
D. Urman in id. and P.V.M. Flesher, eds., Ancient Synagogues. Historical Analysis &
Archaeological Discovery (Leiden, 1995), vol. 2, p. 474.
306 leonard v. rutgers

Such evidence suggests, once again, that Jewish epitaphs were not
primarily concerned with systematically expressing ideas about after-
life in a philosophical garb or in a way similar to that found in our
literary sources, but, rather, with referring to customs practiced on
the occasion of the burying and commemoration of the dead—cus-
toms whose great appeal it was that they could force an emotional
and spiritual link between the world of the living and the world of
those who had already passed away. One can therefore fairly say that
many Jewish epitaphs are indeed concerned with death and afterlife,
but that they express this concern in a manner and with words that
differ from the words scholars have traditionally looked for. This
explains why both the maximalists’ and minimalists’ approaches
were doomed to fail from the very start: representatives of both
schools turned a comparison between two categorically different
types of evidence into the conceptual basis of their work, the former
erecting a building, the latter all too eager to take it down, thus
creating an impasse from which escape seemed totally impossible.

Conclusions

Our discussion of a set of words that appear in many Jewish epitaphs

and of the biblical citations contained in several of these epitaphs
brings us full turn with regard to some of the issues raised at the
beginning of this essay. While analyzing the pertinent evidence, I
have repeatedly stressed that despite the funerary context in which
the Jewish epitaphs were set, they seem to address themselves prima-
rily to the world of the living. When placed within the larger context
of ancient Jewish epigraphic practices, we have seen that it is con-
ceivable that the Jewish epitaphs provide us with a glimpse into the
practices surrounding burial and the commemoration of the dead.
Even though it is impossible here to explore the implications of this
observation in depth, it should nonetheless be pointed out that once
we view the evidence within the context of Jewish literary traditions,
we also begin to see that several of the tersely-formulated expressions
in the inscriptions may very well have carried an eschatological
meaning that went beyond concerns of an exclusively this worldly
nature. Consider, for example, the Rabbinic tradition that holds that
“he who responds ‘Amen’ has the gates of Paradise opened for
 death and afterlife: the inscriptional evidence 307

him.”55 And how about the fact that two of the three biblical cita-
tions mentioned in the course of our discussion, Is. 57:2 and 1 Sam.
25:29, play a key role as prooftexts in Rabbinic discussions concern-
ing the hereafter?56 Such evidence implies that words or phrases that
may at first sight strike us as nothing but acclamations of a fairly
neutral kind may in reality have carried a deeply eschatological
meaning or conjured up for their users a well-defined set of ideas on
the afterlife.
In conclusion, one may observe that as scholars continue their
explorations in this area, the apparent absence of references to life
after death in Jewish epitaphs dating to the late antique period may
very well turn out to be more apparent than real. For that reason, I
believe that, in the end, the “what-we-cannot-prove-we-cannot-know
approach” is much less common-sensical that it appears at first blush.
Even though we no longer have to follow slavishly an earlier genera-
tion of scholars who believed they could detect a reference to the
eschaton in even the tiniest curl in funerary inscriptions, it is no less
counter-productive to focus on evidence we no longer have at our
disposal or to carry on complaining about this absence. I also believe
that there is some truth to the old saying that “the inscriptions speak
for themselves”—that is, as long as one gives the inscriptions a real
opportunity to talk and as long as one keeps in mind that even this
procedure, which I have tried to pursue in this contribution, repre-
sents, inevitably, an act of interpretation.
Such a procedure makes clear, above all, that the seventeenth
century idea that inscriptions are a better source of information than
the written sources is a misconception. Inscriptions are just a differ-
ent—and as such an extremely useful—source of information. But it
would be absurd to claim that by definition epigraphic materials are
superior to the evidence provided by the literary remains (or vice
versa!). In many cases, inscriptions simply inform about and are con-
cerned with different things from literary sources. As I have tried to
point out, Jewish epitaphs can serve as a prime example to illustrate
the truism of this observation. They permit the careful interpreter to
enter into a universe that at one and the same time can appear
radically different from as well as vaguely similar to the world emerg-
ing from our written sources. This explains why ideas about death

55
B. Shab. 119b.
56
B.Shab. 152b.
308 leonard v. rutgers

and the afterlife, while undeniably present in many late antique Jew-
ish epitaphs, often present themselves in a fashion that may strike us
as radically different from the way in which these ideas surface in
literary works that elaborate on these and related issues. However
strange an impression they may make on us, it is nonetheless impera-
tive not to forget that the words and notions we find reflected in the
epigraphic record afford us a unique glimpse of a now-lost world with
which many Jews in the later Roman world—including all those who
could not read or who did not have access to literary sources—were
thoroughly familiar, and in which eschatological concerns were ex-
pressed in a manner these Jews found both appropriate and satisfy-
ing.

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 13. THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD AND
THE SOURCES OF THE PALESTINIAN TARGUMS TO
THE PENTATEUCH

Paul V.M. Flesher1

University of Wyoming

The Palestinian Targums to the Pentateuch are widely known for the
material they insert into their translations of the Hebrew text. The
creators of those targums used additions to weave their theology and
beliefs into the biblical text, even when the theology and beliefs did
not appear there. Nowhere is this more evident than with regard to
the belief in the resurrection of the dead. Although the Hebrew Pen-
tateuch lacks any defined notion of the resurrection of the dead or of
an afterlife, the targums insert it.2 This can be clearly seen in the
targumic treatment of Gen. 3:19, where God punishes Adam for
eating the forbidden fruit (TN3 Gen. 3:194 ).

1
I want to thank B.P. Mortensen who first drew to my attention PJ’s consistent
alteration of the Proto-PT expansions on resurrection. This paper derives from a
methodological study of the afterlife in the sources of the Palestinian Targums to the
Pentateuch, “The Theology of the Afterlife in the Palestinian Targums to the Penta-
teuch: A Framework for Analysis,” which will appear in J. Neusner, ed., Approaches to
Ancient Judaism, New Series, vol. 16 (Atlanta, 1999). I also wish to thank Professor
Neusner for publishing these two essays and for his continuing support of my re-
search. I further want to thank Professor Michael L. Klein for reading the previous
paper and making suggestions for improvements, some of which have found their
way into this essay. Needless to say, any errors are mine alone.
2
In recent decades, three scholars have studied targumic understandings of resur-
rection. They are: H. Sysling, Tehiyyat Ha-Metim: The Resurrection of the Dead in the
Palestinian Targums to the Pentateuch and Parallel Traditions in Classical Rabbinic Literature
(Tübingen, 1996) (cited hereinafter as Sysling); A.R. Carmona, Targum y Resurreccion.
Estudio de los textos del targum Palestinense sobre la resurreccion (Granada, 1978) (cited
hereinafter as Carmona, Resurreccion); and Etan Levine, The Aramaic Version of the Bible:
Contexts and Context (Berlin, 1988) (cited hereinafter as Levine). I cite their analyses of
passages in the relevant footnotes, but I will not engage their conclusions in this
essay. Their studies are so conceptually different from this one—since they have no
knowledge of my work on sources—that there are few points of contact. I discuss
these three studies more fully in my essay referenced in n. 1.
3
Abbreviations used here are: Hebrew text (HT), Targum Neofiti (TN), Targum
Pseudo-Jonathan (PJ), Fragmentary Targum (FT), fragments of targums from the
Cairo Geniza (CG), Palestinian Targum (PT), PJ-unique source (PJu), Proto-Palestin-
ian Targum source (Proto-PT). The Vatican MS. of the FT is designated FT(V), and
312 paul v.m. flesher

A. You will eat bread from the sweat from before your face until you return to the
earth, because from it you were created; because you are dust and to dust you
are to return.
B. But from the dust you are to arise again to give an account and a
reckoning of all that you have done.
The biblical punishment appears at A, where Adam is sentenced to
death, to return to the dust. But B’s additional material makes clear
that the matter does not end there. Since God requires a further
reckoning of all his deeds, at some unspecified point in the future,
Adam will rise from the dead and be judged.
The Palestinian Targums answer the question of when Adam will
rise from the dead. Targum Neofiti and the Fragmentary Targums
make it clear that the resurrection of the dead takes place in the
world-to-come. It comes just before the Day of the Great Judgment,
when everyone’s deeds are examined and they are rewarded with
eternal life in the Garden of Eden or punished with eternity in
Gehenna. Targum Pseudo-Jonathan, by contrast, sees God as plan-
ning the resurrection of the dead at the apocalyptic end of time. The
resurrection will take place in this world, following the messiah’s
victory over Gog in the final battle. Despite its emphasis on the end
of time, PJ also thinks that resurrections have already happened—
twice in fact. Once at Mt. Sinai and once in the presence of Ezekiel
in the Valley of Dura.

the Paris MS. of the FT is designated as FT(P). The standard editions are: E.G.
Clarke, et al., eds., Targum Pseudo-Jonathan of the Pentateuch: Text and Concordance
(Hoboken, 1984); A. Diez Macho, ed., Neophyti I: Targum Palestinense Ms de la Biblioteca
Vaticana, vol. 1 (Barcelona, 1968); Michael L. Klein, ed., The Fragment-Targums of the
Pentateuch according to Their Extant Sources, 2 vols. (Rome, 1980); Michael L. Klein, ed.,
Genizah Manuscripts of Palestinian Targum to the Pentateuch, vol. 1 (Cincinnati, 1986).
All targum translations are cited from M. McNamara, M. Maher, and K.
Cathcart, eds., The Aramaic Bible (Wilmington, 1987-1991; Collegeville, 1992- ) (here-
inafter: ArB). The translations of the Palestinian Targums to the Pentateuch were
done by McNamara, Maher, and Ernest G. Clarke. Citations will be to ArB by
volume number. I have consistently made two changes in the translation but have
otherwise reproduced them carefully. First, I have changed “Law” (’orait’a) to “To-
rah,” so as to avoid the negative, Pauline caste the former term gives to the targum.
Second, since most of the passages cited here are predominately additional material,
I have used italics to indicate where the targum renders the HT and roman charac-
ters to mark additional material. Note: I have consistently consulted ArB, although it
is cited only where its comments are specifically relevant to my discussion.
4
Translation: M. McNamara, ArB, vol. 1a, p. 62. The expansion also appears in PJ
and in FT(P) but is missing in FT(V). Levine, p. 221, interprets this passage as
evidence for the resurrection of the body. I think he is correct in this interpretation.
See also Sysling, pp. 67-90, and Carmona, Resurreccion, pp. 1-20.
 the palestinian targums to the pentateuch 313

The reason for the different understandings of the resurrection

stems from the sources that underlie the Palestinian Targums to the
Pentateuch.5 These Targums combine a highly literal translation of
the Hebrew text with additional material, placed into the translation,
ranging in size from single inserted words to midrashic expansions
several paragraphs long. Generally speaking, the additions come
from two types of sources. First, all the Palestinian Targums to the
Pentateuch contain a shared Proto-PT source, to which some five
hundred and forty inserted expansions belong. Second, each targum
has expansions unique to itself. These range in number from less
than twenty for each of the FTs, to one hundred and sixty-four for
TN, to 1587 for PJ.6 While the expansions distinctive to the FTs and
TN merely “season” the Proto-PT material in them, the expansions
distinctive to PJ, called the PJ-unique source, dominate its non-literal
material and reshape the targum itself.
This understanding of the sources of the PTs provides the basis for
interpreting the different approaches to the resurrection of the dead
found in TN and the FTs, on the one hand, and in PJ, on the other.
The Proto-PT source governs the understanding of the resurrection
found in TN and the FTs. The additional material distinctive to each
targum plays no role in the depiction of the resurrection. By contrast,
the PJ-unique source determines PJ’s approach. Proto-PT presents a
consistent picture of the resurrection’s taking place as the prelude to
the final judgment in the world-to-come. To make its case that resur-

5
The knowledge of the sources of the PTs comes from a project I directed in the
early 1990s with three doctoral students (Beverly Patton Mortensen, Ronald M.
Campbell, and Leslie Simon). Our goal was to map the interrelationships of the
Palestinian Targums according to the expansions rather than the translations, defin-
ing expansion as a non-translational insertion into a verse of seven words or more.
We studied the entire text of the Pentateuch of TN, PJ, FT(P), and FT(V). While the
results of this study are progressing towards publication, preliminary information has
appeared in P.V.M. Flesher, “Exploring the Sources of the Synoptic Targums to the
Pentateuch,” in P.V.M. Flesher, ed., Targum Studies, vol. 1 (Atlanta, 1992), pp. 101-
134; P.V.M. Flesher, “Mapping the Synoptic Palestinian Targums of the Penta-
teuch,” in D.R.G. Beattie and M.J. McNamara, eds., The Aramaic Bible: Targums in
Their Historical Context (Sheffield, 1994), pp. 247-253; and in P.V.M. Flesher, “Is
Targum Onkelos a Palestinian Targum? The Evidence of Gen. 28-50,” in Journal for
the Study of the Pseudepigrapha 19 (1999), pp. 35-79. Further information appears in
R.M. Campbell, “A Fragment-Targum without a Purpose? The Raison D’etre of
MS Vatican Ebr. 440,” Ph.D. thesis, Northwestern University, 1994; and in B.P.
Mortensen, “Targum Pseudo-Jonathan: A Document for Priests,” Ph.D. thesis,
Northwestern University, 1994 (cited hereinafter as Mortensen, “Priests”).
6
Mortensen, “Priests,” p. 7.
314 paul v.m. flesher

rection happens in this world at the end of time, PJ’s targumist takes
two steps. First, he brings in PJu expansions that give his interpreta-
tion of the resurrection and, second, he changes or deletes Proto-PT
expansions that might contradict it.
The topic of resurrection thus provides an opportunity to explore
the comparative theology of the PTs. This comparison is based not
on the targum texts, as one might expect, but on the targumic
sources and their treatment in the texts. To accomplish this study,
this paper will first examine the resurrection of the dead as under-
stood by the Proto-PT source. It will then look at the PJu source’s
interpretation—starting with the future resurrection and then mov-
ing to the past resurrections. Since our goal is to explore targumic
theology, there will be only occasional reference to parallel material
in Rabbinic literature.

The resurrection of the dead in the Proto-PT Source

In the Proto-PT source, six passages deal with, or at least mention,

the resurrection of the dead: Gen. 3:19, Gen. 19:26, Gen. 25:34,
Gen. 30:22, Exod. 15:12 and Deut. 32:39. Since the wording of the
Proto-PT source is closely followed by TN and the FTs, there is little
difference between the targums. For convenience sake, we therefore
will use TN to represent Proto-PT and will make reference to differ-
ences among the targums only when necessary.
Proto-PT’s answer to the question of when the resurrection of the
dead occurs appears in a short expansion in Deut. 32:39. The resur-
rection occurs in the world-to-come (TN Deut. 32:397 ):
A. See now that I, I in my Memra, am he, and there is no other god beside
me.
B. I am he who causes the living to die in this world, and who brings the
dead to life in the world-to-come.
C. I am he who smites and I am he who heals, and there is no one who can
rescue from my hands.
As is clear from the italics, most of TN’s passage simply translates the
HT. But at B, the HT’s oppositional sentence, “I kill and I make
7
ArB, vol. 5A, p. 159. This passage also appears in FT(P) and FT(V). It does not
appear in PJ. See Martin McNamara, The New Testament and the Palestinian Targum to
the Pentateuch (Rome, 1966), pp. 110-112 (cited hereinafter as McNamara, New Testa-
ment); Carmona, Resurreccion, pp. 51-60; and Sysling, pp. 242-246.
 the palestinian targums to the pentateuch 315

alive,” is recast with additional material to draw a distinction be-

tween this world and the world-to-come: God kills the living in this
world and brings the dead to life in the world-to-come. Resurrection
serves as the mechanism for bringing the dead into the next world.
That is, it is not death in-and-of-itself that causes one to enter the
world-to-come, but resurrection following that death.
But what happens to the dead in the world-to-come once they
rise? The quick answer is that they are judged. This becomes clear
from God’s comment to Cain in Gen. 4:7 (TN Gen. 4:78 ).9
A. Surely, if you improve your work in this world, you will be remitted and
pardoned in the world-to-come;10
B. but if you do not improve your work in this world, your sin will be kept
for the day of great judgment.
For Cain, all his sins will be remembered and will count against him
on the “day of great judgment” (B)—and this is before he kills Abel!11
The idea that resurrection is for judgment—in this case on the “day
of great judgment”—echoes Gen. 3:19, which linked the two ideas as
well.
The resurrection of the dead for the purpose of judgment is not
simply an afterthought; God planned it well before he created the
earth and humankind. Two thousand years before creation, God
decided that the Garden of Eden would be the reward for the right-
eous, that Gehenna would be the punishment for the wicked, and
that judgment would be on the basis of adherence to the Torah. This
becomes clear from the Proto-PT expansion at Gen. 3:24 (TN Gen.
3:24):
A. And he [God] banished Adam; and he had made the Glory of his
Shekhinah dwell from the beginning to the east of the Garden of Eden,
between the two cherubim.
B. Two thousand years before he created the world he had created

8
ArB, vol. 1a, p. 65. There is also a fear that people will be kept for Judgment Day
as well. That is that theme of Exod. 15:12. For a discussion of the link between Gen.
4:7-8 and the Sadducees, see S. Isenberg, “An Anti-Sadducee Polemic in the Pales-
tinian Targum Tradition,” in Harvard Theological Review 63 (1970), pp. 433-444.
9
See TN Deut. 32:34 for a comment about how the cup of retribution is kept until
Judgment Day.
10
“…improve your work…” is a more exact translation of the Aramaic. See Klein’s
translation of FT(P) to this verse in Klein, Fragment Targums, vol. 2, p. 8.
11
For a discussion of Cain and Abel in the PTs, see McNamara, New Testament, pp.
156-160.
316 paul v.m. flesher

the Torah; he had prepared the garden of Eden for the just and
Gehenna for the wicked.12
C. He had prepared the garden of Eden for the just that they might
eat and delight themselves from the fruits of the tree [of life],
because they had kept precepts of the Torah in this world and
fulfilled the commandments.
D. For the wicked he prepared Gehenna, which is comparable to a
sharp sword devouring with both edges. He prepared within it darts
of fire and burning coals for the wicked, to be avenged of them in
the world-to-come because they did not observe the precepts of the
Torah in this world.
E. For the Torah is a tree of life for everyone who toils in it and keeps
the commandments: he lives and endures like the tree of life in the
world-to-come. The Torah is good for all who labor in it in this
world like the fruit of the tree of life.
God intends the Garden of Eden for the resurrected just, that is, for
those who have been righteous, C. They are placed there because
they kept the Torah. The Torah provides the criteria by which peo-
ple are considered righteous and enter the Garden of Eden. Only by
following the precepts and the commandments of Torah can people
enter this place. People of course wish to come to the Garden of
Eden because it contains the Tree of Life, the fruit of which the
righteous eat.
The expansion’s next section, D, describes Gehenna, the opposite
of the Garden of Eden, reserved for the resurrected wicked, who go
there because they did not do Torah. Torah again forms the criterion
for entering one place or the other. Once in Gehenna, the wicked are
tormented by the “sharp sword” and “fire and burning coals.”
At E, the targumist explicates the character of Torah itself. In the
world-to-come, the Torah has been transformed into the Tree of
Life. Not only is performing the Torah’s precepts and command-
ments paralleled with eating the tree’s fruit as at C, but the fruit (and
the Torah’s precepts) gives the just person eternal life in the world-to-
come, so “he lives and endures like the tree of life in the world-to-
come” (E). Those who followed the Torah in this world will receive
the reward of the Garden of Eden and the Tree of Life in the world-
to-come.13
12
PJ shortens this sentence to “Before he had yet created the world, he created the
Torah.”
13
Based on a interpretation of Prov. 3:18, “She (i.e., Torah) is a is a tree of life…,”
Rabbinic exegesis links the Torah to the Tree of Life. See B. Ber. 32b and B. Arak.
15b.
 the palestinian targums to the pentateuch 317

The Proto-PT rendering of Exod. 15:12 brings together many of

these aspects of the resurrection, even though it does not explicitly
mention the resurrection of the dead. The Proto-PT expansion is
placed at the end of the “Song of the Sea,” which the Israelites sang
after God drowned the Egyptians in the Sea of Reeds.14 The expan-
sion depicts a dispute between the sea and the land about who will
take the bodies of the dead Egyptians. The land does not wish to take
them on this occasion—presumably because of the Egyptians’ wick-
edness in pursuing the Israelites (TN Exod. 15:1215 ):
A. The sea and the land disputed, both of them together, and said:
B. The sea said to the land: “Receive your sons.”
C. And the land said to the sea: “Receive your slain.”
D. The sea did not want to receive them and the land did not want to
swallow them up.
E. The land feared the judgment of the great day, lest it require them
of her in the world-to-come.
F. Immediately you inclined your right hand in an oath over the
earth, O Lord, that you would not require them of it in the world-
to-come.
G. And the earth opened its mouth and swallowed them up.
The land fears Judgment Day, E, because it will be required to give
back the dead Egyptians,16 an apparent reference to the bodily resur-
rection of the dead at the day of great judgment. It is not clear why
the land would be afraid of this, since the land contains all the other
dead. But that is not addressed here. God resolves the land’s fear by
making an explicit exception that he will not require the dead Egyp-
tians from it at Judgment Day.
The Proto-PT expansion at Gen. 25:34 brings together the world-
to-come and the resurrection of the dead. TN reads, “Esau despised his
birthright, and <made denial> concerning the vivification of the dead
and denied the life of the world-to-come” (TN Gen. 25:34).17 This

14
See Sysling’s discussion of this verse, pp. 164-186.
15
ArB, vol. 2, p. 66. This also appears in FT(P), FT(V) and PJ. See the discussion in
Carmona, Resurreccion, pp. 114-126
16
E. Levine (“Neofiti 1: A Study of Exodus 14,” in Biblica 54 [1978], pp. 301-330,
especially 314) argues that “Land” in this passage signifies Sheol. This interpretation
fits neither with Proto-PT’s or PJ-unique’s understanding of the afterlife and
Gehenna. See my essay on targumic understandings of the afterlife referenced in n.
1.
17
ArB, vol. 1a, p. 130. There is a similar passage in both FT(P) and FT(V), but they
are not exact. PJ drops the phrase concerning the resurrection of the dead. See also
Sysling’s discussion of this verse, pp. 104-135.
318 paul v.m. flesher

formulation has Esau making a general denial of the concepts of the

resurrection of the dead and life in the world-to-come. FT(P) has a
different wording, “Esau spurned the birthright, and he desecrated
his portion in the world-to-come, and he denied the resurrection of
the dead” (FT[P] Gen. 25:34).18 FT(P) changes Esau’s statement to
denying his own “portion” in the world-to-come as well as the gen-
eral denial of the resurrection. There is no difference with regard to
the resurrection of the dead between the two statements; in both,
Esau denies that a resurrection takes place. And this denial makes it
clear how important the belief in the resurrection of the dead is to
Proto-PT’s theology, for it is this denial that makes Esau wicked.
Another reference to the resurrection of the dead occurs in Gen.
30:22 in what is generally known as the “midrash of the four keys.”
One of the keys “opens” graves and brings up the dead therein. The
passage appears in a standard list form, with an introduction followed
by the four items of the list (TN Gen. 30:2219 ):
A. Four keys there are which are given into the hand of the Lord, the
master of all worlds, and he does not hand them over either to
angel or to Seraph:
B. the key of rain and the key of provision and the key of the sepul-
chres and the key of barrenness.
….
C. The key of the sepulchres, for thus does the Scripture explain and
say: “Behold, I will open your graves and will lead you from your
graves, my people” (Ezek. 37:12).20
C makes it quite apparent that the “key of the sepulchres” is the key
of resurrection, for it opens the graves so that God can bring out his
people. And, since the prooftext has God state, “my people,” it is
Israel who will be resurrected, not just anyone. In addition, this pas-
sage reinforces the notion that the resurrection will be of the body,
for God will bring the dead from their graves, that is, from the place
of the deads’ dust.
18
Translation by M.L. Klein, Fragment Targums, vol. 2, p. 18. The change may be
influenced by M. San. 10:1, which says that a person who denies the resurrection of
the dead has no portion in the world-to-come.
19
ArB, vol. 1a, pp. 148-149. This is the introduction, with just the relevant list item.
The complete midrash appears only in TN and the Fragmentary Targums. Targum
Pseudo-Jonathan does not have an expansion here at this verse. Instead, it has an
expansion that essentially consists of A-B at Deut. 28:12. See Sysling, pp. 136-163,
and Carmona, Resurreccion, pp. 95-113.
20
TN interprets Ezek. 37:12 literally. Of course, in the context of Ezek. 37, the
verse constitutes an analogy for the Israelites’ return from the Babylonian Exile.
 the palestinian targums to the pentateuch 319

The Proto-PT version of Gen. 19:26 reinforces the understanding

that the resurrection is a future event. This passage describes Lot’s
wife’s changing to a pillar of salt and says she will remain as such
until the dead are raised. The verse reads, “Behold, she stands as a pillar
of salt until the time the dead are brought to life” (TN Gen. 19:26).21
Thus people are not resurrected shortly after their death, but at a
future time. This implies that the judgment for which the dead will
be raised will happen on the day of great judgment as discussed
above.
So what does Gen. 3:19 mean in the context of Proto-PT’s under-
standing of the resurrection of the dead? In God’s punishment of
Adam, according to the Proto-PT source, God says, “But from the
dust you are to arise again to give an account and a reckoning of all
that you have done.” God’s statement means that Adam will be
resurrected in the world-to-come and undergo judgment on the day
of great judgment. He will “give an account and a reckoning” of his
deeds. On that basis, God will decide whether Adam will spend his
eternal life in the Garden of Eden or Gehenna.

The PJ-unique source: The future resurrection of the dead

The first difference between Proto-PT’s view of resurrection of the

dead and that of the PJ-unique source is that PJu understands resur-
rection as happening in this world, while Proto-PT puts it in the
world-to-come. The second difference addresses the question of
when resurrection will occur. The main resurrection of the dead will
happen at the apocalyptic end of time, but there have already been
two resurrections of the dead in the past—one at Mt. Sinai and the
other in the Valley of Dura. In this section, we will look at how PJ-
unique and Targum Pseudo-Jonathan present the future resurrec-
tion. In the next section, we will look at the past resurrections.
PJ’s shift away from the Proto-PT understanding of resurrection is
purposeful, not accidental. PJ’s targumist, that is, knows that his
understanding of the resurrection of the dead differs from that of
Proto-PT, and he takes steps to eliminate the other view. He accom-
plishes this both by using PJu to replace Proto-PT passages on the

21
This passage appears in FT(P) and FT(V) as well, but not in PJ. See Sysling’s
discussion of this verse, pp. 91-103, and also Carmona, Resurreccion, pp. 21-29.
320 paul v.m. flesher

resurrection and by simply eliminating Proto-PT resurrection pas-

sages.
PJ’s rendering of Num. 11:26 provides the main depiction of the
resurrection of the dead as an event of the apocalypse. The context is
a large expansion that gives the prophecies of Eldad and Medad in
the Israelite camp when the “prophetic spirit” rested upon them.
According to PJu, they began with prophecies about current events—
Joshua and the quail—but then shifted to discuss “the end of days.”
Their remarks are based loosely on Ezek. 37-39.22 The following
quotation concerns only the final days (PJ Num. 11:2623 ):
A. But the two prophesied as one and said: “Behold, a king shall arise
from the land of Magog at the end of days.
B. “He shall gather kings crowned with crowns and prefects attired in
armor,24 and all the nations shall obey him. They shall prepare for
war in the land of Israel against the sons of the exile.
C. “However, the Lord is near them at the hour of distress, and all of
them will be killed by a burning breath in a consuming fire that
comes from beneath the throne of Glory;
D. “and their corpses will fall on the mountains of the land of Israel.
Then all the wild animals and birds of heaven shall come and
consume their bodies.
E. “And after this all the dead of Israel shall live [again] and shall
delight themselves with the good which was hidden for them from
the beginning. Then they shall receive the reward of their labors.”

22
For discussion of other issues in this passage, see McNamara New Testament, pp.
233-237, and Sysling, pp. 235-242.
23
ArB, vol. 4, pp. 220-221. On p. 220, n. 45, E.G. Clarke sees TN and FT(P) as
similar in form, and PJ and FT(V) as similar. He apparently refers to the order of the
three prophecies in the expansion. In TN and FT(P), the order is: quail, Moses/
Joshua, Gog. In PJ and FT(V), it is: Moses/Joshua, quail, Gog. In terms of the Gog
prophecy, however, it is clear that TN, FT(P), and FT(V) are essentially the same.
They all speak of Gog and Magog as leaders who are defeated by the King Messiah
and whose weapons the Israelites burn for seven years. In PJ, by contrast, Magog is
a place, Gog is not mentioned explicitly, and the King Messiah and the seven-years
burning are left out. PJ adds the birds who eat the dead and, of course, the resurrec-
tion of the Israelite dead. So the targums clearly divide into TN and the FTs that
display the Proto-PT source, and PJ, which has a PJu reworking here. See also
Carmona, Resurreccion, pp. 127-154; and A. Shinan, The Aggadah in the Aramaic Targums
to the Pentateuch (Jerusalem, 1979), pp. 149, 227-8 (in Hebrew).
24
Clarke translates “silken clothing” for the Aramaic shirionin in ArB, vol. 4, p. 220.
I think it more likely that PJ’s translator linked it to the Hebrew term shirion, “body-
armor.” See Francis Brown, et al., A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament
(Oxford, reprint, 1974), p. 1056.
 the palestinian targums to the pentateuch 321

The raising of the dead at E refers specifically to the people Israel,

not to all humanity in general (and certainly not to those who God
just killed at C!). The resurrection will occur at the end of days
following God’s defeat of the armies of Gog and his followers. The
resurrection happens in the world we know, but at the end of time.
Thus, for PJu, the resurrection of the dead keeps its special character
by happening at a special time rather than in a special place—Proto-
PT’s world-to-come.
Much of the prophecy of Eldad and Medad depends on Ezek. 37-
39. It begins at A with Ezek. 38:2ff in which God brings out Gog
from the land of Magog. B alludes to Ezek. 38:5ff, where the kings of
Paras, Kush, etc., are listed as joining with Gog. The events in C, the
idea of God’s sending fire against Gog, appear in Ezek. 38:19 and
39:6. The discussion of the birds at D clearly reiterates Ezek. 39:4
and 39:17-20. The resurrection of Israel at E draws generally from
the story in Ezek. 37 of God’s restoring the dry bones of Israel.
There is an important characteristic of PJ’s presentation of the
resurrection of the dead as a future apocalyptic event, namely, it is
always presented as a significant alteration of a Proto-PT expansion
by PJ and PJu. Thus PJ’s targumist is clearly in conversation with
Proto-PT’s understanding of the resurrection of the dead and is con-
sistently challenging it through his rewriting of its literary inheritance.
PJ’s characteristic of significantly altering Proto-PT additions to set
out its own theology of resurrection becomes evident with Num.
11:26. Although the large Proto-PT expansion at 11:26 remains in
place, a PJu addition is substituted for Proto-PT’s discussion of Gog.
Here is TN’s version of that passage (TN Num. 11:2625 ):
A. And both of them [i.e., Eldad and Medad] prophesied together,
saying: “At the very end of days Gog and Magog ascend on Jeru-
salem, and they fall at the hand of King Messiah,
B. “and for seven years the children of Israel shall kindle fires from
their weapons; and they will not go out (to) the forest.”26
In Proto-PT, which this passage from TN represents, we find several
differences from the PJ-unique expansion. Most importantly, there is
no resurrection of the dead. In addition, Proto-PT depicts the King
Messiah’s defeating Gog and Magog, whereas in PJu, God himself
overcomes Gog. Furthermore, PJu’s version totally lacks any notion

25
ArB, vol. 4, p. 74.
26
This comes from Ezek. 39:9-10.
322 paul v.m. flesher

of the messiah. And, where Proto-PT talks about kindling fires with
the weapons of the defeated armies, PJu talks about the wild animals
eating their corpses. Ultimately, the only thing that the two versions
share is a general dependence on Ezek. 37-39. So it is clear that the
composer of this PJu expansion recast the Proto-PT addition into one
that included his point about the resurrection of the dead.
The second passage PJ’s targumist recast to present his theology of
the resurrection appears at Deut. 32:39. In Proto-PT, the passage
describes the resurrection of the dead as part of God’s activities in the
world-to-come. Here, PJu not only gets rid of Proto-PT’s notion that
resurrection will happen in the world-to-come but also introduces
Gog and the end of time (PJ Deut. 32:3927 ):
A. When the Memra of the Lord shall reveal itself to redeem his
people, he will say to all the nations:
B. “See, now, that I am the one who is, was, and I am the one who shall
be in the future, and there is no other god besides me;
C. “I by my Memra put to death and give life.28
D. “I smote the people of the house of Israel and it is I who will heal them
at the end of days.
E. “There will be no one to save from my hand, Gog and his soldiers who
came to fight against them.”
The difference between PJu and Proto-PT stands out at C. PJu essen-
tially provides a literal translation of the Hebrew, adding only “by my
Memra” to the phrase. Although Clarke translates the Aramaic here
as “I…bring back to life,” PJ actually follows the Hebrew formula-
tion, which means “give life” (i.e., birth) and is not talking about the
resurrection of the dead. Proto-PT, by comparison, renders this sen-
tence as, “I am he who causes the living to die in this world, and who
brings the dead to life in the world-to-come” (TN Deut. 32:29).29
PJu’s interpretation of this sentence appears outside of C. At D,
PJu places the “healing” of Israel at the “end of days.” The structure
of PJ’s rendering provides two parallels to the “healing.” First, it looks
back to C and thus is paralleled with the concept of giving life, just as
the smiting of Israel at the start of D parallels the killing at the start
of C. Second, the idea of “healing” is clearly allusive, and the expan-
27
ArB, vol. 5b, p. 95.
28
Clarke translates “bring back to life” in ArB, vol. 5B, p. 95. But his rendering follows
the Rabbinic interpretation of the passage rather than the literal Aramaic. The
Rabbinic interpretation of this verse as indicating the resurrection of the dead ap-
pears in Sifre Deut. 329-330.
29
ArB, vol. 5a, p. 159.
 the palestinian targums to the pentateuch 323

sion’s structure clarifies its referent in the following sentence, E. E

refers to God’s destruction of “Gog and his soldiers.” Thus PJu’s
version of Deut. 32:39 refers to the apocalyptic scheme we saw laid
out in PJu’s rendering of Num. 11:26. It discusses the resurrection of
the dead of Israel following the defeat of Gog.30
The two PJu expansions we have just discussed were written with
the strategy of taking the Proto-PT passage and replacing it with one
that put forth PJu’s understanding of the resurrection of the dead as
happening at the apocalyptic end of time. PJ’s targumist used differ-
ent strategies with the other three Proto-PT expansions concerning
the resurrection of the dead:
First, in Gen. 19:26, PJ simply replaces the Proto-PT expansion
that links Lot’s wife to the resurrection of the dead with a PJu addi-
tion that does not.31 This alteration leaves no mention of resurrection
in PJ at this location.
Second, in Gen. 30:22, PJ removes the Proto-PT expansion—the
midrash about the four keys—and just gives a translation of the HT.
PJ does not completely ignore the midrash, however, for it places its
introductory sentence at Deut. 28:12. The additional material there
mentions the “key of graves,” but gives no further information.
Third, in Gen. 25:34, PJ’s targumist takes a more complex ap-
proach. At first glance, he seems to ignore the Proto-PT expansion
and its mention of resurrection. A closer look at the context reveals
that he knows two versions of the Proto-PT expansion and while he
seems purposely to remove references to the resurrection, in the end
the targumist apparently cannot avoid an allusion to it. 32
To explain PJ’s approach in Gen. 24:34, we must first review the
other PTs. The Fragmentary Targums and Targum Neofiti have
related but differing versions of the Proto-PT expansion. Both FT(P)
and FT(V) caste the addition at Gen. 25:34 in this way: “and [Esau]
desecrated his portion in the world-to-come, and he denied the resur-
rection of the dead.”33 TN’s expansion has the same two-phrase
organization, but the scribe seems to have left out a verb. It reads,
supplying a verb, “and [he denied] the resurrection of the dead, and

30
PJu also discusses the defeat of Gog, without the resurrection of the dead, at
Exod. 40:11. See ArB, vol. 2, p. 273, n. 26.
31
See Sysling’s discussion of this verse, pp. 91-103.
32
See Sysling’s discussion of this verse, pp. 104-135.
33
Quotation is from FT(V), translated by M.L. Klein, Fragment Targums, vol. 2, p.
105.
324 paul v.m. flesher

denied the life of the world-to-come.”34 While the order of the two
phrases differs, all three texts have Esau deny the resurrection. But
TN has him deny the life in the world-to-come, while the FTs have
him deny “his portion” in the world-to-come. The difference lies in
its link to Esau. In the FTs, Esau denies that he himself will be in the
world-to-come. But TN constructs a parallel with the previous
phrase. Just as Esau makes a general denial of the resurrection of the
dead, he also makes a general denial of all life in the world-to-come.
When we turn to PJ, its rendering of Gen. 25:34 leaves out the
resurrection of the dead. The only additional material in the verse
comes from the first phrase of the FTs’ expansion. It reads, “Esau
despised the birthright and the portion of the world-to-come.”35 This
shows that PJ knew the Proto-PT version of the FTs and chose to
ignore the part concerning the resurrection.36
PJ’s deliberate removal of the mention of the resurrection in Gen.
25:34 also occurs at the new PJu expansion at Gen. 25:29. PJu adds
(PJ Gen. 25:2937 ):
A. …[Esau] had committed five transgressions that day:
B. he had practiced idolatry;
C. he had shed innocent blood;
D. he had gone in to a betrothed maiden;
E. he had denied the life of the world-to-come;
G. and had despised the birthright.
The important line for our interests is E, where PJu has Esau deny
the “life in the world-to-come.” This is the same phrase used in TN’s
additional material in Gen. 25:34. The fact that PJu uses this phrase
while ignoring TN’s other phrase about the resurrection again indi-
cates that PJ deliberately leaves out the resurrection.
PJ introduces a third change in the vicinity of Gen. 25:34—a small
PJu addition at Gen. 25:32. Although the passage discusses the
world-to-come, it ignores the resurrection of the dead. But it still
contains an allusion to a link between the resurrection and the world-
to-come (PJ Gen. 25:3238 ):
34
My translation.
35
ArB, vol. 1b, p. 91. See Carmona’s analysis of these verses in Resurreccion, pp. 30-
50.
36
The leaving out of material here is also suggested by this sentence’s syntactical
problem. Either “the portion of the world-to-come” should be preceded by an indi-
cator of the direct object, as in the previous phrase (“despised [yat] the birthright”) or
by a verb, as it appears in the other PTs to this verse.
37
ArB, vol. 1b, p. 90.
38
ArB, vol. 1b, p. 91.
 the palestinian targums to the pentateuch 325

A. And Esau said, “Behold, I am about to die, and I shall not live again in
another world;
B. “so of what use is the birthright to me or a portion in the world<-to-
come>?”39
The additional material at B echoes what we have already seen in PJ
and in Proto-PT, a reference to the notion of a “portion” in the
world-to-come. At A, PJu comes a bit closer to the idea of the resur-
rection but still does not quite come out and state it. A refers to the
idea of living “again” in the world-to-come, stating that Esau does
not expect to have that second life. Thus we have an implication of
resurrection, for how else can one “live again”? But PJ’s targumist
still seems doggedly determined not to speak of it directly.
So what we have seen in the way PJ treats the four verses contain-
ing Proto-PT expansions that address the concept of the resurrection
of the dead (Gen. 19:26, Gen. 25:34, Exod. 30:22 and Deut. 32:39) is
that PJ does not want to speak directly of the resurrection. In three
passages, Proto-PT uses the phrase tehiyyat metim, or more exactly, a
causal form of the verb HYY, “to live” (the causal form meaning “to
bring to life”) plus the noun myty’, “the dead.” But these Proto-PT
expansions are replaced in PJ by PJu expansions that do not use the
phrase. Even at Gen. 25:29, 32, and 34, where PJu has three sets of
additional material that speak of the world-to-come, none of them
directly invokes the notion of the resurrection of the dead, whatever
it may imply.40
The new PJu expansion at Num. 11:26, which was not paralleled
by a Proto-PT expansion that spoke of the resurrection of the dead,
uses the verbal formula just mentioned. It does not place the resur-
rection of the dead in the world-to-come, however, but at the apoca-
lyptic end of time, following the defeat of Gog.

39
Rather than the expected phrase at the end of this sentence “world-to-come”
(‘lm’ de‘ati), PJ has ‘lm’ de‘t ‘amar. The meaning is unclear. Maher (ArB, vol. 1B, p. 92,
n. 41) suggests that the expected ‘ati has somehow been confused with ‘amar of the
next verse. On the other hand, perhaps it should be understood as “the world of
which you are speaking.” The problem with this interpretation is that Jacob has not
been speaking of the world-to-come. Perhaps this is another indication that the
targumist is paralleling this exchange with that between Cain and Abel in Gen. 4.
40
This is also the case for PJ at Gen. 3:19, where Adam is told that he will rise from
the dust to give an account of himself on the day of great judgment. The word
“dead” is nowhere in evidence and instead of using “bring to life,” the expansion has
a form of qum, “to cause to stand, erect.”
326 paul v.m. flesher

The PJ-unique source: The past resurrections

While the PJ passages we have just studied concentrate on a future

resurrection of the dead, two expansions in PJu—neither of which
have a Proto-PT parallel—describe past resurrections. These resur-
rections are clearly special events and not something that happens on
a regular basis.
The first addition, at Exod. 20:18, indicates that the resurrection
of the dead has already happened in the natural world in which we
live. It occurred when God revealed himself on Mt. Sinai to give the
Torah to Israel (PJ Ex. 20:18(15)41 ):
A. All the people were watching the thunder, how it was changed in the
hearing of each one of them,
B. and how it came out from the midst of the torches,
C. and the sound of the horn, how it revived the dead,
D. and the mountain smoking.
The resurrection of the dead is just mentioned in passing at C. It
happens in response to the sound of the horn and is part of the
strange, natural wonders that accompany God as he speaks the Ten
Commandments. This verse lists four such miracles—one each in A-
D—but others are taking place in this scene, including God’s spoken
words being seen like fire, flying through the air and encircling the
people (PJ Ex. 20:2-3). The resurrection is just another of the special
incidents here. It happens and thereby shows God’s power, but it is
not more important than the thunder or the smoking mountains.
The parallel to this PJ passage found in the Babylonian Talmud
(B. Shab. 88b) suggests that God did not plan to have a resurrection
at this time but was essentially forced to do it by unanticipated
events.42 When the Israelites heard God’s voice, many of them died
from fear. So God resurrected them. Rather than indicating that
resurrection can happen anytime, therefore, this passage indicates
that it should only happen at the end time, but in this one instance it
was necessary to make an exception.

41
ArB, vol. 2, pp. 219-220. Levine, p. 219, attributes this interpretation to “FT,”
but neither FT(V) nor FT(P) contains the expansion; it appears only in PJ. Only
CG(F) is extant for this verse, and it lacks the expansion as well. See also Sysling, pp.
246-249; Carmona, Resurreccion, pp. 61-72; and Shinan, Aggadah, pp. 227-228.
42
The Babli passage seems to have an echo in Mekhilta de Rabbi Ishmael,
Bahodesh 9. Pirqe de R. Eliezer 41 has a different description of the resurrection at
Sinai.
 the palestinian targums to the pentateuch 327

There is a second PJu expansion that mentions a resurrection of

the dead that has already taken place, namely, Exod. 13:17. This
expansion describes a story in which the Ephraimites left their Egyp-
tian captivity too early and were killed by the Philistines. According
to this story, they become the “dry bones” that Ezekiel resurrected
(PJ Ex. 13:1743 ):
A. Now when Pharaoh let the people go, the Lord did not lead them by the way
of the land of the Philistines, although it was nearer; for the Lord said,
B. “Perhaps the people will change their minds when they see their brothers
who died in the war, two hundred thousand men, men of valor
from the tribe of Ephraim.”
C. Seizing shields and spears and (other) weapons, they went down to
Gath to plunder the livestock of the Philistines.
D. And because they transgressed the decree of the Memra of the
Lord and went forth from Egypt thirty years before the appointed
time, they were delivered into the hands of the Philistines, who
slew them.
E. These were the dry bones which the Memra of the Lord brought to
life through the mediation of Ezekiel the prophet in the valley of
Dura.
F. If (the departing Israelites) had seen that, they would have taken
fright and returned to Egypt.
PJu’s expansion here tells the story of the tribe of Ephraim who did
not wait for Moses to lead them out of Egypt, but instead left under
their own initiative, crossed into Philistia, and were killed. This part
of the story is known from other Rabbinic sources: the Mekhilta
(Beshallah 1), the Babylon Talmud (B. San. 92b), and Pirqe de R.
Eliezer (48). None of these texts include the identification with
Ezekiel 37 found at E in PJ.44 The notion that the Ephraimites killed
by the Philistines were resurrected by Ezekiel appears only in this
targum.
According to PJ’s phrasing at E, Ezekiel’s resurrection of the dead
Ephraimites has already taken place. It lies in the past and therefore
has no bearing on PJ’s version of Num. 11:26, discussed above, in
which God will resurrect all Israel at the end of time, after the defeat

43
ArB, vol. 2, p. 197. See Sysling, pp. 230-235. Carmona apparently does not
discuss this passage.
44
Pirqe de R. Eliezer 33 discusses Ezekiel’s resurrection but identifies the dead with
the Israelites who worshipped the idol in the Valley of Dura in Babylonia. See Dan.
3:1.
328 paul v.m. flesher

of Gog. God’s resurrection of Israel in the future and Ezekiel’s resur-

rection of Ephraim in the past stand unconnected by PJu.45
Having looked at how Targum Pseudo-Jonathan and the PJ-
unique source present the resurrection of the dead, it is time to return
to our opening passage, the expansion at Gen. 3:19. In the context of
Pseudo-Jonathan and the PJ-unique source, when will Adam arise to
give an account of his deeds? The answer for PJu is much less
straightforward than it was for Proto-PT. In Proto-PT, we recall, this
passage meant that Adam was to be resurrected from the dead into
the world-to-come and be brought to judgment on the day of great
judgment. Since PJ essentially gets rid of the idea that resurrection
takes place in the world-to-come and instead places it in this world,
there are several possible interpretations we need to evaluate.
Does PJ interpret Adam’s resurrection as having happened in the
past? No, of course not. At Exod. 20:18, those who were resurrected
had died from the fear of God’s presence. In the same vein, at Exod.
13:17, Ezekiel is credited with having resurrected the Ephraimites
who left Egypt early. Both instances refer to a specific, clearly delim-
ited sub-group of Israelites. In neither case is there any place for
Adam.
Does PJ then understand Adam’s resurrection as an event that will
occur in the apocalyptic end of time? Again the answer must be no.
PJ Num. 11:26 refers to all the people of Israel—the “sons of exile”—
but not to anyone else. It is not a general resurrection that would
include all human beings. It thus lacks any place for Adam’s resurrec-
tion.
What is missing in all three scenarios is not only the world-to-
come but also judgment. None of these resurrections occur for the
purpose of evaluating a person’s deeds while they were alive. Even if
45
J. Heinemann’s study of the Messiah of Ephraim provides an alternate explana-
tion of PJ Ex. 13:17, which he links to the Messiah of Ephraim at PJ Ex. 40:11. This
enables him to identify the Messiah of Ephraim as Bar Kokhba. This identification
has several problems, not least of which is Heinemann’s highly anachronistic ap-
proach to dating passages from Rabbinic texts. See J. Heinemann, “The Messiah of
Ephraim and the Premature Exodus of the Tribe of Ephraim,” in Harvard Theological
Review 8:1 (1975), pp. 1-15. B.W.R. Pearson builds on Heinemenn in a recent essay.
Without evaluating Heinemann’s argument, he argues that the reinternment of
bones in caves associated with Bar Kokhba’s rebellion is evidence of Bar Kokhba’s
followers’ belief in resurrection. He makes this claim despite the fact that
reinternment is a common burial practice. See B.W.R. Pearson, “Dry Bones in the
Judean Desert: The Messiah of Ephraim, Ezekiel 37, and the Post-Revolutionary
Followers of Bar Kokhba,” in Journal for the Study of Judaism 29:2 (1998), pp. 192-201.
 the palestinian targums to the pentateuch 329

the groups being resurrected were not so limited, the lack of any
judgment indicates that they do not include Adam’s resurrection.
Adam’s resurrection and judgment in PJ thus does not fit in PJu’s
concept of the resurrection of the dead. There are two ways to under-
stand this lack of fit: one requires a small addition to our understand-
ing of PJ’s resurrection theology, and the other requires us to posit
that PJ’s targumist overlooked this expansion and failed to make it
consistent with his resurrection theology.
The first explanation is one of definition. It begins by recalling PJ
Gen. 25:32, where Esau denies that he shall “live again in another
world,” even though there is no mention here of the resurrection.
This suggests that, for PJ and PJu, the world-to-come is not entered
by resurrection. The resurrection of the dead applies only to this
world; it is not a term that is used in conjunction with the world-to-
come. If this interpretation is correct, then there is no need to link
Adam’s rising for judgment in Gen. 3:19 with the resurrection. Adam
can get to the world-to-come and judgment day without being resur-
rected. If this is correct, resurrection in PJ refers to the resurrection of
the dead in this world only.
The second explanation is structural. It begins with the recogni-
tion that the expansion at Gen. 3:19 came from Proto-PT. For some
reason, PJ’s targumist left in this Proto-PT reference to the resurrec-
tion in the world-to-come for the purpose of judgment even though
he carefully worked to remove the others. In fact, he left intact nearly
all the Proto-PT material in the Adam and Eve story (Gen. 2-3). The
story thus continues to depict Proto-PT’s theology of the afterlife and
the resurrection, even where it disagrees with PJu’s.46
To turn this into a general observation, PJ’s layers can be seen not
only in the identification of the two major sources of its expansions,
Proto-PT and PJu, but also in the differing theological concepts con-
tained within those layers. In some cases, PJ’s targumist clearly has
tried to make the theology consistent throughout the targum—as we
have seen with the resurrection of the dead—but he has not been
totally successful. The ability to identify the Proto-PT source—not
only in PJ but in the other Palestinian Targums to the Pentateuch—
enables the identification of theological roots and not merely ele-
ments of literary construction.

46
For my analysis of the afterlife theology of the two sources, see the article refer-
enced in n. 1.
330 paul v.m. flesher

To indicate the importance of this combination of sources and

theologies, let me turn briefly to the Isaiah Targum. Bruce Chilton’s
important study, The Glory of Israel, analyzes what he terms the “ex-
egetical framework” of the Isaiah Targum. Through judicious com-
parison of targumic exegesis with Rabbinic literature, he found that
the targum contained two frameworks: the earlier one “reflects devel-
opments from just prior to the destruction of the Temple until the
beginning of the Bar Kokhba revolt,” while “a later meturgeman
who helped to shape the [second] framework voices the concerns of
the Amoraic period.”47 Chilton’s achievement is all the more re-
markable because he discovered the two theological frameworks us-
ing the evidence of only a single targum. What the Palestinian
Targums to the Pentateuch provide for the analysis of Pseudo-
Jonathan is not only the final version—equivalent to the Isaiah
Targum Chilton used—but also targums containing the earlier
framework. TN and the FTs reveal the character of the Palestinian
Targums prior to their recasting by PJ’s targumist. So future studies
of PJ using the methodology of Chilton’s exploration of Targum
Isaiah can be carried out with a higher level of confidence and cer-
tainty because the sources and their theological character—both be-
fore and after—are known.

Bibliography

Campbell, R.M., “A Fragment-Targum without a Purpose? The Raison

D’etre of MS Vatican Ebr. 440,” Ph.D. thesis, Northwestern University,
1994.
Carmona, A.R., Targum y Resurreccion. Estudio de los textos del targum Palestinense
sobre la resurreccion (Granada, 1978)
Chilton, Bruce, The Glory of Israel: The Theology and Provenience of the Isaiah
Targum (Sheffield, 1982).
Clarke, E.G., et al., eds., Targum Pseudo-Jonathan of the Pentateuch: Text and
Concordance (Hoboken, 1984).
Diez Macho, A., ed., Neophyti I: Targum Palestinense Ms de la Biblioteca Vaticana,
vol. 1 (Barcelona, 1968).
Flesher, Paul V.M., “Exploring the Sources of the Synoptic Targums to the
Pentateuch,” in Flesher, P.V.M., ed., Targum Studies, vol. 1 (Atlanta,
1992), pp. 101-134.

47
B. Chilton, The Glory of Israel: The Theology and Provenience of the Isaiah Targum
(Sheffield, 1982), p. 12. [Brackets mine.]
 the palestinian targums to the pentateuch 331

Flesher, Paul V.M., “Is Targum Onkelos a Palestinian Targum? The Evi-
dence of Gen. 28-50,” in Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha 19
(1999), pp. 35-79
Flesher, Paul V.M., “Mapping the Synoptic Palestinian Targums of the
Pentateuch,” in Beattie, D.R.G., and M.J. McNamara, eds., The Aramaic
Bible: Targums in Their Historical Context (Sheffield, 1994), pp. 247-253.
Flesher, Paul V.M., “The Theology of the Afterlife in the Palestinian
Targums to the Pentateuch: A Framework for Analysis,” in Neusner,
Jacob, ed., Approaches to Ancient Judaism, New Series, vol. 16 (Atlanta,
1999).
Heinemann, J., “The Messiah of Ephraim and the Premature Exodus of the
Tribe of Ephraim,” in Harvard Theological Review 8:1 (1975), pp. 1-15.
Isenberg, S., “An Anti-Sadducee Polemic in the Palestinian Targum Tradi-
tion,” in Harvard Theological Review 63 (1970), pp. 433-444.
Klein, Michael L., ed., Genizah Manuscripts of Palestinian Targum to the Penta-
teuch, vol. 1 (Cincinnati, 1986).
Klein, Michael L., ed., The Fragment-Targums of the Pentateuch according to Their
Extant Sources, 2 vols. (Rome, 1980).
Levine, E., “Neofiti 1: A Study of Exodus 14,” in Biblica 54 (1978), pp. 301-
330.
Levine, Etan, The Aramaic Version of the Bible: Contexts and Context (Berlin, 1988)
McNamara, M., M. Maher, and K. Cathcart, eds., The Aramaic Bible
(Wilmington, 1987-1991; Collegeville, 1992- ).
McNamara, Martin, The New Testament and the Palestinian Targum to the Penta-
teuch (Rome, 1966).
Mortensen, B.P., “Targum Pseudo-Jonathan: A Document for Priests,”
Ph.D. thesis, Northwestern University, 1994.
Pearson, B.W.R., “Dry Bones in the Judean Desert: The Messiah of
Ephraim, Ezekiel 37, and the Post-Revolutionary Followers of Bar
Kokhba,” in Journal for the Study of Judaism 29:2 (1998), pp. 192-201.
Shinan, A., The Aggadah in the Aramaic Targums to the Pentateuch (Jerusalem,
1979) (in Hebrew).
Sysling, H., Tehiyyat Ha-Metim: The Resurrection of the Dead in the Palestinian
Targums to the Pentateuch and Parallel Traditions in Classical Rabbinic Literature
(Tübingen, 1996)
 GENERAL INDEX

Afterlife Brichto, H. C., on ancestor veneration,

Apocalyptic literature of, 119-39 39-40, 43, 48
in the Dead Sea scrolls, 189-210
early death in Psalms, 71-82 Carnley, Peter, on resurrection in the
eschatology in Philo and Josephus, gospels, 224
163-84 Charles R. H., 293
4 Ezra and 2 Baruch, 130-31 Chilton, Bruce, on resurrection and day
fullness of life afterdeath, 74-82 of judgment, 330
divine justice in the Apocrypha, Cooley, R. E., on afterlife, 36
143-55 Cooper, Alan, 42, 45
funerary inscriptions and Jewish no- Cult of departed spirits, 39-40
tions of death and afterlife, 293-
308 Dahood, Mitchell, on afterlife, 61, 68,
judgment in afterlife, 141-61 74-77, 79, 92
God’s justice and judgment, 141- Daniel, Book of, and resurrection, 125-
43 27
lasting life and fullness of life, 70-71 Day of Judgment in Palestinian
in Palestinian Targums, 311-30 Targums, 311-30
and Rabbinic Judaism, 243-87 Dead Sea scrolls on death, resurrection
resurrection and life after death, 189-210
in Daniel, 125-27, and in prophetic Death
texts, 119-20 abode of the dead (netherworld), 88-
sources of belief, 27-29 89,
spread of beliefs in, 129 and inhabitants of netherworld,
Abusch, Tzvi, on Biblical references to 89-92
afterlife, 44 death and dying in the Mishnah and
Albright, William Foxwell, on judgment Tosefta, 244-47; defined, 62-74;
day, 41 mortuary cults, 92-96
Ancestor cult
memory venerating ancestor, 87-100 Ecclesiastes and Wisdom literature, 101-
and intervention for descendants, 116
39-40, 50, 53-56 Enochic literature and the Book of the
Apocalyptic literature and belief in after- Watchers, 121-25
life, 119-39 Essenes, Dead Sea scrolls on death, res-
Archi, Alphonso, 94 urrection and life after death, 189-210
Augustine and the history of resurrec-
tion, 235-37 Fiorenza, Francis Schüssler on the risen
Avery-Peck, Alan J., on death and after- Jesus, 225
life in Rabbinic literature, 243-66 Fischer, U., 296-97
Fortes, Myers, 94
Bailey, L. R., 68 Frey, Jean-Baptiste, 293-96
Ben Sira, 110-13 Funerary inscriptions and Jewish no-
Biblical literature and afterlife, 35-43 tions of death and afterlife, 293-308
Bloch-Smith, Elizabeth, burial practices
in northern Israel, 37, 39-40, 43 Garrett, D. A., on Wisdom literature,
Borgen, Peder, messianic belief as na- 109
tional eschatology, 169-72 Gilman, Neil, on afterlife, 36, 46
334 general index

God in combat with death, 45 fullness of life, and Death in Life, 69-
Gospels 70, 74-82, 79
Jesus and resurrection, 215-26 lasting life, 70
realm of death, 66-69
Halpern, Baruch, on ancestor venera- Puech, Emile, on resurrection, 208-9
tion, 40-41, 50
Hebrew Bible, scarcity of references Qumran sect and Dead Sea scrolls on
concerning death and afterlife, 35-59 death, resurrection and life after
death, 189-210
Immortality in Wisdom of Solomon, 115
Rabbinic literature on death and after-
Jesus and resurrection, 215-26 life, 243-291
Job in Wisdom literature, 101-116 in Book of Daniel, 125-27
Josephus and eschatological beliefs, 174- death and dying, 244-47
84 resurrection of the dead, 247
the world-to-come, 249-53, 263-64
Kearns, C., 114 Resurrection
Kennedy, Charles A., 42-43 and day of Judgment in world to
Kirkpatrick A. F., 85 come, 319-30
Kolarcik, M., 115 in the Dead Sea scrolls, 189-210
God’s judgment and punishment,
Lewis, Theodore J., on ancestor venera- 257-61
tion, 40, 43, 48 Gospels mentioning, 215-239
Lifshitz, B., 294-95 and Palestinian Targums, 311-30
in second Temple Judaism, 96-97
McCarter, P. Kyle, 41-42 Ribar, J. W., tomb installations and af-
Martin-Achard, Robert, on resurrec- terlife, 36
tion, 56
in Mesopotamian religion, 35-36 Schaeffer, Claude, 92
Mowinckel, S., 71 Schoors, A., on Wisdom literature, 108
Sirach, in Wisdom literature, 109-114
Nagakubo, S., 296-97 as “church book”, 110
Numa Denis Fustel de Coulange, 93
Talmudic literature and death and after-
Odeberg, H., 293 life, 267-91
Ogden, G., on Wisdom literature, 109
Oppenheim, A. Leo, possibility of judg- Van der Toorn, Karel, 42
ment day, 41
Origen and the refinement of spiritual Weiser, A., 71
resurrection, 230-35 Whitley, C. F., on Wisdom literature,
Osten-Sacken, P. von der, on afterlife in 108
the Dead Sea scrolls, 201 Wisdom literature on death and after-
life, 101-116
Paul the Apostle on resurrection, 226-30 Wisdom of Solomon, 115-16
Pitard, Wayne T., burial pactices, 38 Woman Wisdom in Wisdom of Solomon,
Prophecy of afterlife, 53 115
resurrection and belief in afterlife, World-to-come
119-20 in Rabbinic literature on death and
Proverbs, and Wisdom literature, 101- afterlife, 249-53, 263-64
116 resurrection, and day of judgment,
Psalms on death and afterlife, 61-85 319-30
early death, 71-74
 INDEX OF BIBLICAL AND ANCIENT REFERENCES

Bible

Old Testament Ecclesiastes

1:3 109, 143
Amos 1:11 107
2:2 45 2:15-16 107
2:20 73 2:16 107
6:7 45, 98 2:17 107
9:2 190 3:9 143
12:2 76, 96 3:18-22 109
18:1 44 3:19 107, 108
26:14 40 3:21 108
34:6 47 4:2-3 108
5:5 103
Daniel 6:1-2 73
2 180 6:4-5 62
2:38 180 7:1 113
3 153, 154 7:13 107
6 153, 154 7:15 143
10 127 7:17 103
11:33-35 126 7:26 73
12 128, 134, 199 8:7 107
12:1-3 126 8:14 143
12:3 194 9:1-3 107
14:29-34 206 9:2-3 107
19:9-12 206 9:5-10 55
79-14 217 9:10 108
94-19 146 12:7 102, 107, 108, 113

Deuteronomy Exodus
3:9-4:4 147 7:1 49
3:9-13 147 13:17 327
3:13-35 147 15:12 314, 317
8-31 141 20:2-3 326
14:1 98 20:4 76
18:11 98 20:18 326, 328
25:5-7 73 24:11 75
26:24 98 30:22 325
28 170, 173
28:12 323 Ezekiel
30:15 141 37 55, 96, 146, 191, 321
32:16-18 147 37:12 318
32:36 148 37-39 320-22
32:39 314, 322-23, 325 38:2 321
33:29 147 38:5 321
38:19 321
41:18 64
336 index of biblical and ancient references

Genesis 38:18 190

1 49 40-55 191
1:27 237 52:13-53:12 143
2 49 52-53 160
2-3 329 53 96
2:7 102 54:1 173
3 82 57:2 302, 307
3:19 102, 311, 314-15, 319, 41:43 80
328-29 45:1 80
3:24 315 64:4 229
4:7 315 65:17-25 120
5 79 66:24 126
5:22 190 16:5 98
5:24 78, 97
6 123 Job
14:1 48 1:9 192
14:5 42 3:11-19 62
15 216 3:13-19 102
19:26 314, 319, 323, 325 3:23 105
19:31 42 4-6 159
22 216 5:22-27 106
24:34 323 5:26 83
25:29 324-25 7:1-6 74
25:32 324, 329 7:7-10 63
25:34 317-18, 323, 325 7:8 105
26:14 48 7:9-10 105
28:22 43 7:14-15 65
30:22 314, 318, 323 7:17-118 73
31:30 43 7:21 105
31:52-54 43 10 77
32 216 10-17 159
37;35 47 10:21-22 105
42:38 47 14:12 76
44:3 47 14:12-14 55
44:29 47 15:2-4 159
46:1 43 15:20-34 106
50:12-23 49 16:22 105
17:11 79
Hosea 17:12-14 68
3-14 96 17:13-16 105
6:2 55 18:5-21 106
18:7 159
Isaiah 19:26-27 75, 66
8:19 44, 90, 98 19:27 106
14:9 42, 91 20:5-9 106
19:3 44, 89, 98 21:23-26 113
24-27 119 23:26-31 124
26 55 25:6 120
26:14 42, 89 26:15 120
26:19 45, 76, 96 29:2-20 104
29:4 98 33 158
36:4 108 33:4 106
 index of biblical and ancient references 337

33:18 106 Nehemiah

33:22 106 9;25 78
33:28 106
33:30 106 Numbers
34:4 106 6:24-26 37
34:14-15 108, 13 11:26 320-21, 323-25, 327
38:16-17 45 12:8 75-76
42:17 65 16 68
52:5 106 16:30 47
16:33 47
Jonah 23:10 79
2:7 45 24 170
24:7 170, 171
Joshua 25:1-5 47
15:9 42 25:2 43
18:6 42 33:2 47
21:8-11 49
Proverbs
Judges 1:4 72
1-2 141 1:12 68, 103
8:32 47 2:18 42, 66, 102
3;18 103
1 Kings 4:2 102
2 46 5:1 79
2:6 47 5:5 103
2:8 47 6:32-35 103
2:9 47 7:27 103
17:2 51 8:22-31 191
8:35 102, 104
2 Kings 9:1-6 104
2 52 9:13-18 104
2:1 79 9:18 42, 66, 102
2:1-12 97 10:2 104, 113
2:4 79 10:7 107, 112, 305
4 51 11:4 104
5:9 79 11:30 103
13 52 13:12 103
21:6 98 13:14 103
23:24 43-44, 98 14:12 103
14:27 103
Lamentations 15:1 66
3:6 70 15:4 104
3:24 81 16:4 113
4:16 71 16:22 104
16:25 103
Leviticus 21:16 66
19:27-28 49 22:1 112
19:31 48 24:14 104
20:6 48, 170 27:20 67
20:27 48
21:5 48
26 173
338 index of biblical and ancient references

Psalms 73:4 67
1 193 69:15-16 67
8 73 88 69, 190
8:5 73 88:5 62
9:14 45 88:11 42, 66, 89
9:14-15 63 88:12 62
9:18 72 88:16 69
11 75, 77 89:49 101
11:6-7 75 90 113
13 68 90:2 70
14 156 90:10 74
15 156 91 84
16 79 91:5-6 66
16:10-11 85 102:12 73
16:11 76, 77 104:29 83
17:14 76 106:28 43
18 67, 68, 73, 74, 79 107:18 45
18:5-6 64, 67 116:3 67
18:17 79 118:5 67
21 71 119 193
21:5 70 124:3-5 68
22:30 74 128 142
24:7-10 45 139:8 66, 190
27:4 74 139:18 80
28:1 62 140:14 83
30:4 62, 101 143:3 69, 70
30:10 111 143:7 69
31 68 144 73
31:13 64
36 78 1 Samuel
39 63 2:2 80
39:4 63 2:5-6 150
39:5-7 72 2:6 209
39 101 2:18 80
41 71 15:32 73
41:9-12 71 19:13 42
42:3 84 20:6 40
44 82 22:6 47
49 83, 97, 101 25:29 305, 307
49:5 66 28 44-45
49:6 65 28:13 43
49:15 66, 67 28:13-14 89, 90
49:17-20 67
50:1-6 71 2 Samuel
52:10-11 70 5:18 42
55:5 65 5:22 32
55:16 68 12:23 102
63:10-11 68 14:14 107
69 67 18:18 73
69:2-3 69
72:5 71 Zephaniah
73 83, 97, 143 1:5 135
 index of biblical and ancient references 339

2:12 135 21:7 223

21:12 223

New Testament Luke

1:1-4 217
Acts 7:11-17 223
2:25-36 95 8:40-42 223
9:3-18 225 8:49 223
9:7 225 11:2-4 219
17:32 181 20:24-38 216
22 225 20:27-33 216
26:12-18 225 20:36 236
26:19 224 24:1-12 220
24:4-8 220
1 Corinthians 24:13-35 220
2 230 24:16 223
2:10-11 229 24:18-27 220
2:12 230 2:22-23 200
6:19 231 24:31 223
9:1 226 24:34 220
15 137, 226, 228, 230 24:36-52 221
15:1-11 227
15:5 221 Mark
15:8 224 2:26-27 83
15:12 226 5:21-24 223
15:15-19 227 5:35-43 223
15:20-28 228 8:31 218
15:29 228 9:9 218
15:30-32 228 9:31 218
15:35-39 229 9:42-48 238
15:44 229 10:15 238
15:45 230 10:33, 34 218
15:50 223, 224, 232 12:18-23 216
12:24-27 216
2 Corinthians 12:25 236
5:1-10 238 16:1-8 218
12:2-4 133 16:6,7 218
16:7 220
Galatians
1:15-16 226 Matthew
4:4-6 227 6:9-13 219
4:6 218 9:18-19 223
4:21-31 233 9:23-26 223
15:13-14 227
John 16:1-8 218
20:1-10 222 16:7 221
20:6-9 225 16:17-19 221
20:11-18 222 19:12 230-331
20:20 222 22:23 189
20:24-29 222 22:23-28 216
20:31 217 22:29-32 216
21 222 22:30 236
340 index of biblical and ancient references

28:2-4 221 8:2 127

28:7 221 10:10 122
28:10 221, 227 10:13 122
15:2 121
1 Thessalonians 15:4 121
4:13-18 224, 226 18:14-16 122
21 122
Revelation 22:1 121
13:17-18 180 22:9-14 121
25:3 122
Romans 25:5-6 122
8:15 218 37:71 124
39:5-7 125
Augustine 45:5 125
City of God 51:1 125
20.9 236 53:3 125
22.8 236 53:10 125
22.18 236 58:2-4 194
22.21 237 65 125
71:16 125
Confessions 85-90 123
5.10.20 236 90:9-10 124
91-105 124
2 Baruch 102:4-5 124
1:1-3:8 146 103:3-4 124, 194
1:20 146 103:8 124
1:22 146 104:2-6 125
1:28 146 104:7-8 128
3:4-11 147
3:36-37 147 2 Enoch
4:1 147 22:9-10 133
4:4-8 147
4:5 147 Eusebius
4:8-5:9 147 History of the Church
30 130 6:3 230
39:2 131
50:2-3 131 4 Ezra
51:2 131 7:30-33 130
51:3 131 7:36 130
51:10 131 7:75 130
51:12 131 9:15-16 130
11-12 180
Book of Biblical Antiquities
(Pseudo-Philo) Josephus
16:3 157 Antiquities of the Jews
19:12 157 1.2.3 181
23:6 157 10.10.4 180
23:13 157 10.11.4 180
28:10 18.1.3 176
18.1.4 177
1 Enoch
1:36 121
 index of biblical and ancient references 341

The War of the Jews 2.11.4 234

2.8.11 176 2.11.6 234
2.8.14 176
3:8.1-7 175 Psalms of Solomon
3.8.3 178 1-2 156
3:8.5 175 3 156
4.6.3 179 8 156
6.2.1 180 13 156
6.5.2 179 14 156
6.5.4 177 15 156
17 156
1 Maccabees
2:51-66 148 Sibylline Oracles
3:1-40 148 3 171
4:1-l5:10 148 4 137
5:1-16:17 148 4:179-82 136
6:16-8:4 148 5 171
6:18-7:42 148
7:7-17 149 Sirach
7:9 149 1:11-13 114
7:11 149 1:13 114
7:14 149 2:1-6 111
7:17 149 7:17 114
7:18-33a 149 11:26-28 139
7:19 149 14:11-16 112
7:22-23 150 14:17-19 113
7:23 149 16:22 114
7:27-28 150 24:8-11 147
7:35-37 149 24:23 147
9:1-12 149 30:4 112
33-36 149 30:5 112
37:38 149, 150 33:15 111
38:20-21 112
2 Maccabees 39:25 111
3-7 151 39:27 111
6-7 157 40:1-17 112
7 156 40:8 112
7:1 147, 149, 150 40:11 108, 113
7:6 148 41:1-2 113
7:22 150 41:2-3 113
7:27-29 150 41:11 112
12 305 41:11-13 112
16:18-19 151 41:13 113
17:11-15 151 42:15-25 111
17:20-22 152 50:1-21 110

Origen Tobit
On First Principles 1:1-8 144
2.10.3 232 1:10-12 144
2.10.8 233 1:16-20 144
2.11.2 234 2:1-14 144
2.11.3 234 3:10 145
342 index of biblical and ancient references

4:5-6 145 5:4-13 153

4:7 145 5:5 115
4:9 145 5:15-16 154
11-12 144 9:15 116

Wisdom of Joshua b. Sira Dead Sea Scrolls

17:27-28 146 1:1-2:1 197
24 146 1QH 204
1QM 16:11 203
Wisdom of Solomon 1QS 1-2 202
1-6 154 1QS 3:6-8 199
1:1-6:11 152 1QS 4:12-14 199
1:6 115 1QS 4:16 201
1:13 115 1QS 3:13-4:26 198
1:15 104, 115, 116 4Q186 200
1:16 154 4Q213a 132
1:16-2:20 153 4Q285 203
2:1-5 153 4Q415-18 196
2:1-20 153 4Q418 196
2:5 153 4Q521 208
2:6-11 153 4Q534 200
2:10-20 153 4Q561 200
2:24 115 11Q14:9-10 203
3:1 116
3:1-9 153 Testament of Abraham
4:16-5:2 153 11-12 160
4;18-19 115 12-14 159
5:2-14 154
 HANDBUCH DER ORIENTALISTIK
Abt. I: DER NAHE UND MITTLERE OSTEN

ISSN 0169-9423

Band 1. Ägyptologie
1. Ägyptische Schrift und Sprache. Mit Beiträgen von H. Brunner, H. Kees, S. Morenz, E.
Otto, S. Schott. Mit Zusätzen von H. Brunner. Nachdruck der Erstausgabe (1959).
1973. ISBN 90 04 03777 2
2. Literatur. Mit Beiträgen von H. Altenmüller, H. Brunner, G. Fecht, H. Grapow, H. Kees,
S. Morenz, E. Otto, S. Schott, J. Spiegel, W. Westendorf. 2. verbesserte und erweiterte
Auflage. 1970. ISBN 90 04 00849 7
3. Helck, W. Geschichte des alten Ägypten. Nachdruck mit Berichtigungen und Ergänz-
ungen. 1981. ISBN 90 04 06497 4
Band 2. Keilschriftforschung und alte Geschichte Vorderasiens
1-2/2. Altkleinasiatische Sprachen [und Elamitisch]. Mit Beiträgen von J. Friedrich, E. Reiner,
A. Kammenhuber, G. Neumann, A. Heubeck. 1969. ISBN 90 04 00852 7
3. Schmökel, H. Geschichte des alten Vorderasien. Reprint. 1979. ISBN 90 04 00853 5
4/2. Orientalische Geschichte von Kyros bis Mohammed. Mit Beiträgen von A. Dietrich, G.
Widengren, F. M. Heichelheim. 1966. ISBN 90 04 00854 3
Band 3. Semitistik
Semitistik. Mit Beiträgen von A. Baumstark, C. Brockelmann, E. L. Dietrich, J. Fück, M.
Höfner, E. Littmann, A. Rücker, B. Spuler. Nachdruck der Erstausgabe (1953-1954).
1964. ISBN 90 04 00855 1
Band 4. Iranistik
1. Linguistik. Mit Beiträgen von K. Hoffmann, W. B. Henning, H. W. Bailey, G. Morgen-
stierne, W. Lentz. Nachdruck der Erstausgabe (1958). 1967. ISBN 90 04 03017 4
2/1. Literatur. Mit Beiträgen von I. Gershevitch, M. Boyce, O. Hansen, B. Spuler, M. J.
Dresden. 1968. ISBN 90 04 00857 8
2/2. History of Persian Literature from the Beginning of the Islamic Period to the Present Day. With
Contributions by G. Morrison, J. Baldick and Sh. Kadkanı̄. 1981. ISBN 90 04 06481 8
3. Krause, W. Tocharisch. Nachdruck der Erstausgabe (1955) mit Zusätzen und Berich-
tigungen. 1971. ISBN 90 04 03194 4
Band 5. Altaistik
1. Turkologie. Mit Beiträgen von A. von Gabain, O. Pritsak, J. Benzing, K. H. Menges, A.
Temir, Z. V. Togan, F. Taeschner, O. Spies, A. Caferoglu, A. Battal-Tamays. Reprint
with additions of the 1st (1963) ed. 1982. ISBN 90 04 06555 5
2. Mongolistik. Mit Beiträgen von N. Poppe, U. Posch, G. Doerfer, P. Aalto, D. Schröder,
O. Pritsak, W. Heissig. 1964. ISBN 90 04 00859 4
3. Tungusologie. Mit Beiträgen von W. Fuchs, I. A. Lopatin, K. H. Menges, D. Sinor. 1968.
ISBN 90 04 00860 8
Band 6. Geschichte der islamischen Länder
5/1. Regierung und Verwaltung des Vorderen Orients in islamischer Zeit. Mit Beiträgen von H. R.
Idris und K. Röhrborn. 1979. ISBN 90 04 05915 6
5/2. Regierung und Verwaltung des Vorderen Orients in islamischer Zeit. 2. Mit Beiträgen von D.
Sourdel und J. Bosch Vilá. 1988. ISBN 90 04 08550 5
6/1. Wirtschaftsgeschichte des Vorderen Orients in islamischer Zeit. Mit Beiträgen von B. Lewis, M.
Rodinson, G. Baer, H. Müller, A. S. Ehrenkreutz, E. Ashtor, B. Spuler, A. K. S. Lamb-
ton, R. C. Cooper, B. Rosenberger, R. Arié, L. Bolens, T. Fahd. 1977.
ISBN 90 04 04802 2
Band 7
Armenisch und Kaukasische Sprachen. Mit Beiträgen von G. Deeters, G. R. Solta, V. Inglisian.
1963. ISBN 90 04 00862 4
Band 8. Religion
1/1. Religionsgeschichte des alten Orients. Mit Beiträgen von E. Otto, O. Eissfeldt, H. Otten, J.
Hempel. 1964. ISBN 90 04 00863 2
1/2/2/1. Boyce, M. A History of Zoroastrianism. The Early Period. Rev. ed. 1989.
ISBN 90 04 08847 4
1/2/2/2. Boyce, M. A History of Zoroastrianism. Under the Achaemenians. 1982.
ISBN 90 04 06506 7
1/2/2/3. Boyce, M. and Grenet, F. A History of Zoroastrianism. Zoroastrianism under Macedo-
nian and Roman Rule. With a Contribution by R. Beck. 1991. ISBN 90 04 09271 4
2. Religionsgeschichte des Orients in der Zeit der Weltreligionen. Mit Beiträgen von A. Adam, A. J.
Arberry, E. L. Dietrich, J. W. Fück, A. von Gabain, J. Leipoldt, B. Spuler, R. Stroth-
man, G. Widengren. 1961. ISBN 90 04 00864 0
Ergänzungsband 1
1. Hinz, W. Islamische Maße und Gewichte umgerechnet ins metrische System. Nachdruck der
Erstausgabe (1955) mit Zusätzen und Berichtigungen. 1970. ISBN 90 04 00865 9
Ergänzungsband 2
1. Grohmann, A. Arabische Chronologie und Arabische Papyruskunde. Mit Beiträgen von J. Mayr
und W. C. Till. 1966. ISBN 90 04 00866 7
2. Khoury, R. G. Chrestomathie de papyrologie arabe. Documents relatifs à la vie privée, socia-
le et administrative dans les premiers siècles islamiques. 1992. ISBN 90 04 09551 9
Ergänzungsband 3
Orientalisches Recht. Mit Beiträgen von E. Seidl, V. Korošc, E. Pritsch, O. Spies, E. Tyan, J.
Baz, Ch. Chehata, Ch. Samaran, J. Roussier, J. Lapanne-Joinville, S. Ş. Ansay. 1964.
ISBN 90 04 00867 5
Ergänzungsband 5
1/1. Borger, R. Einleitung in die assyrischen Königsinschriften. 1. Das zweite Jahrtausend vor
Chr. Mit Verbesserungen und Zusätzen. Nachdruck der Erstausgabe (1961). 1964.
ISBN 90 04 00869 1
1/2. Schramm, W. Einleitung in die assyrischen Königsinschriften. 2. 934-722 v. Chr. 1973.
ISBN 90 04 03783 7
Ergänzungsband 6
1. Ullmann, M. Die Medizin im Islam. 1970. ISBN 90 04 00870 5
2. Ullmann, M. Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften im Islam. 1972. ISBN 90 04 03423 4
Ergänzungsband 7
Gomaa, I. A Historical Chart of the Muslim World. 1972. ISBN 90 04 03333 5
Ergänzungsband 8
Kornrumpf, H.-J. Osmanische Bibliographie mit besonderer Berücksichtigung der Türkei in Europa.
Unter Mitarbeit von J. Kornrumpf. 1973. ISBN 90 04 03549 4
Ergänzungsband 9
Firro, K. M. A History of the Druzes. 1992. ISBN 90 04 09437 7
Band 10
Strijp, R. Cultural Anthropology of the Middle East. A Bibliography. Vol. 1: 1965-1987. 1992.
ISBN 90 04 09604 3
Band 11
Endress, G. & Gutas, D. (eds.). A Greek and Arabic Lexicon. (GALex ). Materials for a Dictio-
nary of the Mediæval Translations from Greek into Arabic.
Fascicle 1. Introduction—Sources— æ – æ-kh-r. Compiled by G. Endress & D. Gutas, with
the assistance of K. Alshut, R. Arnzen, Chr. Hein, St. Pohl, M. Schmeink. 1992.
ISBN 90 04 09494 6
Fascicle 2. æ-kh-r – æ-s.-l. Compiled by G. Endress & D. Gutas, with the assistance of K. Als-
hut, R. Arnzen, Chr. Hein, St. Pohl, M. Schmeink. 1993. ISBN 90 04 09893 3
Fascicle 3. æ-s.-l – æ-l-y. Compiled by G. Endress, D. Gutas & R. Arnzen, with the assistan-
ce of Chr. Hein, St. Pohl. 1995. ISBN 90 04 10216 7
Fascicle 4. Ila- – inna. Compiled by R. Arnzen, G. Endress & D. Gutas, with the assistan-
ce of Chr. Hein & J. Thielmann. 1997. ISBN 90 04 10489 5.
Band 12
Jayyusi, S. K. (ed.). The Legacy of Muslim Spain. Chief consultant to the editor, M. Marín.
2nd ed. 1994. ISBN 90 04 09599 3
Band 13
Hunwick, J. O. and O’Fahey, R. S. (eds.). Arabic Literature of Africa. Editorial Consultant:
Albrecht Hofheinz.
Volume I. The Writings of Eastern Sudanic Africa to c. 1900. Compiled by R. S. O’Fahey, with
the assistance of M. I. Abu Salim, A. Hofheinz, Y. M. Ibrahim, B. Radtke and K. S.
Vikør. 1994. ISBN 90 04 09450 4
Volume II. The Writings of Central Sudanic Africa. Compiled by John O. Hunwick, with the
assistance of Razaq Abubakre, Hamidu Bobboyi, Roman Loimeier, Stefan Reichmuth
and Muhammad Sani Umar. 1995. ISBN 90 04 10494 1
Band 14
Decker, W. und Herb, M. Bildatlas zum Sport im alten Ägypten. Corpus der bildlichen Quellen zu
Leibesübungen, Spiel, Jagd, Tanz und verwandten Themen. Bd.1: Text. Bd. 2: Ab-bildungen.
1994. ISBN 90 04 09974 3 (Set)
Band 15
Haas, V. Geschichte der hethitischen Religion. 1994. ISBN 90 04 09799 6
Band 16
Neusner, J. (ed.). Judaism in Late Antiquity. Part One: The Literary and Archaeological Sour-
ces. 1994. ISBN 90 04 10129 2
Band 17
Neusner, J. (ed.). Judaism in Late Antiquity. Part Two: Historical Syntheses. 1994.
ISBN 90 04 09799 6
Band 18
Orel, V. E. and Stolbova, O. V. (eds.). Hamito-Semitic Etymological Dictionary. Materials for
a Reconstruction. 1994. ISBN 90 04 10051 2
Band 19
al-Zwaini, L. and Peters, R. A Bibliography of Islamic Law, 1980-1993. 1994.
ISBN 90 04 10009 1
Band 20
Krings, V. (éd.). La civilisation phénicienne et punique. Manuel de recherche. 1995.
ISBN 90 04 10068 7
Band 21
Hoftijzer, J. and Jongeling, K. Dictionary of the North-West Semitic Inscriptions. With appendi-
ces by R.C. Steiner, A. Mosak Moshavi and B. Porten. 1995. 2 Parts.
ISBN Set (2 Parts) 90 04 09821 6 Part One: æ - L. ISBN 90 04 09817 8 Part Two:
M - T. ISBN 90 04 9820 8.
Band 22
Lagarde, M. Index du Grand Commentaire de Fah-r al-Dı-n al-Ra-zı-. 1996.
ISBN 90 04 10362 7
Band 23
Kinberg, N. A Lexicon of al-Farra- æ’s Terminology in his Quræa-n Commentary. With Full Defini-
tions, English Summaries and Extensive Citations. 1996. ISBN 90 04 10421 6
Band 24
Fähnrich, H. und Sardshweladse, S. Etymologisches Wörterbuch der Kartwel-Sprachen. 1995.
ISBN 90 04 10444 5
Band 25
Rainey, A.F. Canaanite in the Amarna Tablets. A Linguistic Analysis of the Mixed Dialect used
by Scribes from Canaan. 1996. ISBN Set (4 Volumes) 90 04 10503 4
Volume I. Orthography, Phonology. Morphosyntactic Analysis of the Pronouns, Nouns,
Numerals. ISBN 90 04 10521 2 Volume II. Morphosyntactic Analysis of the Verbal
System. ISBN 90 04 10522 0 Volume III. Morphosyntactic Analysis of the Particles
and Adverbs. ISBN 90 04 10523 9 Volume IV. References and Index of Texts Cited.
ISBN 90 04 10524 7
Band 26
Halm, H. The Empire of the Mahdi. The Rise of the Fatimids. Translated from the German
by M. Bonner. 1996. ISBN 90 04 10056 3
Band 27
Strijp, R. Cultural Anthropology of the Middle East. A Bibliography. Vol. 2: 1988-1992. 1997.
ISBN 90 04 010745 2
Band 28
Sivan, D. A Grammar of the Ugaritic Language. 1997. ISBN 90 04 10614 6
Band 29
Corriente, F. A Dictionary of Andalusi Arabic. 1997. ISBN 90 04 09846 1
Band 30
Sharon, M. Corpus Inscriptionum Arabicarum Palaestinae (CIAP). Vol. 1: A. 1997.
ISBN 90 04 010745 2 Vol.1: B. 1999. ISBN 90 04 110836
Band 31
Török, L. The Kingdom of Kush. Handbook of the Napatan-Meroitic Civilization. 1997.
ISBN 90 04 010448 8
Band 32
Muraoka, T. and Porten, B. A Grammar of Egyptian Aramaic. 1998. ISBN 90 04 10499 2
Band 33
Gessel, B.H.L. van. Onomasticon of the Hittite Pantheon. 1998.
ISBN Set (2 parts) 90 04 10809 2
Band 34
Klengel, H. Geschichte des hethitischen Reiches 1998. ISBN 90 04 10201 9
Band 35
Hachlili, R. Ancient Jewish Art and Archaeology in the Diaspora 1998. ISBN 90 04 10878 5
Band 36
Westendorf, W. Handbuch der altägyptischen Medizin. 1999.
ISBN Set (2 Bände) 90 04 10319 8
Band 37
Civil, M. Mesopotamian Lexicography. 1999. ISBN 90 04 11007 0
Band 38
Siegelová, J. and Sou‘ek, V. Systematische Bibliographie der Hethitologie. 1999.
ISBN Set (3 Bände) 90 04 11205 7
Band 39
Watson, W.G.E. and Wyatt, N. Handbook of Ugaritic Studies. 1999.
ISBN 90 04 10988 9
Band 40
Neusner, J. Judaism in Late Antiquity, III,1. 1999. ISBN 90 04 11186 7
Band 41
Neusner, J. Judaism in Late Antiquity, III,2. 1999. ISBN 90 04 11282 0
Band 42
Drijvers, H.J.W. and Healey, J.F. The Old Syriac Inscriptions of Edessa and Osrhoene. 1999.
ISBN 90 04 11284 7
Band 43
Daiber, H. Bibliography of Philosophical Thought in Islam. 2 Volumes.
ISBN Set (2 Volumes) 90 04 11347 9
Volume I. Alphabetical List of Publications 1999. ISBN 90 04 09648 5
Volume II. Index of Names, Terms and Topics. 1999. ISBN 90 04 11348 7
Band 44
Hunger, H. and Pingree, D. Astral Sciences in Mesopotamia. 1999. ISBN 90 04 10127 6
Band 45
Neusner, J. The Mishnah. Religious Perspectives 1999. ISBN 90 04 11492 0
Band 46
Neusner, J. The Mishnah. Social Perspectives 1999. ISBN 90 04 11491 2
Band 47
Khan, G. A Grammar of Neo-Aramaic. 1999. ISBN 90 04 11510 2
Band 48
Takács, G. Etymological Dictionary of Egyptian. Vol. 1. 1999. ISBN 90 04 11538 2
Band 49
Avery-Peck, A.J. and Neusner, J. Judaism in Late Antiquity IV. 2000. ISBN 90 04 11262 6