Although I am coming in rather late on this topic, I thought I would post a quick note on the recent discussion about the so-called “Jezebel Seal.”
In a forthcoming article in BAR, Marjo Korpel argues that a seal in the Israel Museum (IDAM 65-321) belongs to the infamous Jezebel, wife of King Ahab of Israel. Nahman Avigad had first published this seal in 1964, but noted that there is no solid basis for ascribing it to Jezebel. The story of Korpel’s identification was first reported in Ha’aretz. Several blogs have discussed this seal over the past week, and Chris Heard at Higgaion has a good summary of the debate and links to other biblioblogs that have touched on the subject.
Jim West has a guest blog about the seal by Chris Rollston of Johnson Bible College Emmanuel School of Religion. Chris and I were students together at Johns Hopkins, so I can attest that he is well-versed in epigraphy. His thoughts on an inscription such as this are always worth noting.
One of the more damaging critiques that Chris notes is that the writing on the seal is later than the 9th century (the date of the biblical Jezebel). If this is the case, then there is no possibility that the seal belonged to her. Avigad dated the seal to the 9th-8th century, but our knowledge of scripts has increased greatly since that time. Zbl is a common root in Northwest Semitic, so it would not be surprising to find other people with that element in their name.
All in all, there seems little reason to ascribe this seal to the Jezebel of biblical fame.
Follow up: Amihai Mazar has posted a short paragraph about the seal on the American Schools of Oriental Research website.
Attention logophiles. Looking for some new, obscure words to drop into your conversation? Have you ever needed to look up words like brompnea, quincunx, or kerfuffle? Are you the kind of person who would write a piece of music entitled Triskaidekaphile? Then have I got a site for you!
The site is called World Wide Words. It is written by Michael Quinion, who writes books about words and provides citations and advice for the Oxford English Dictionary. He focuses on new words that have entered the English language and older words that are dropping out of use.
So, if you would like your vocabulary to be cutting edge or so obscure and archaic it makes your eyes water, absquatulate from your couch and head on over to his site. You’ll read a few new words, add them to your patois, and suddenly Bob’s your uncle!
Alan Hauser has an essay in this month’s SBL Forum entitled “Sources of the Pentateuch: So Many Theories, So Little Consensus”. Because the topic is right up my alley, I wanted to comment on some of the things he has to say.
Hauser begins by noting the fact that the consensus of the Documentary Hypothesis has collapsed. Because of this, he wants to draw attention to two methodological problems: the question of whether it is possible to delineate the sources and whether such reconstructed can be placed within a historical framework. He places these questions within the framework of a question from David Cline’s article from the August 2006 SBL Forum: “Is such a theory [of sources] useful? Should I be interested in it? How important is it to have a theory of Pentateuchal origins?” I was looking forward to an answer to this question, but unfortunately Hauser never quite provides one.
For the first problem, Hauser points to the fact that repetition has often been seen as a sign of multiple sources in a story. If the same thing is said twice, it must be because two stories have been woven together. He rightly questions whether such repetition is evidence of sources or whether it might be attributed to Hebrew style. He points to poetry, where parallelism is not only present but is indeed a sine qua non of Hebrew poetry.
On one level, Hauser is correct, but I think he is partly criticizing scholars for something they no longer do. It may be that professors who teach intro classes may still talk about repetition as a sign of sources, but no one who is doing current active work on the sources is doing it in the heavy handed way that Hauser suggests. Scholars recognize that repetition is sometimes merely a way of bringing out a particular aspect of the text or an element of style left over from the oral stage.
On the other hand, there are places where repetition and differing details cannot be ascribed to style. Even given cultural differences, I find it hard to imagine an Israelite author sitting down and writing the flood story as it now stands, flipping back and forth between the number of animals, the number of days, etc. I can see an editor doing this, if he is working with two texts that are already written and have already obtained a semi-canonical status, so that he must preserve the differences even as he blends the stories.
The second problem he notes is the historical framework. For Wellhausen, source criticism was something that was seen as the first step towards writing history. We now recognize, however, that history and source criticism are two fields that feed into each other. As I have pointed out before, source critical results have implications for history and vice versa. The two must move forward together, at least within the scope of an individual scholars work.
Hauser is critical of this circularity. He states:
Proposed pentateuchal [sic] sources feed into the reconstruction of ancient Israelite history, which, in turn, feeds back into the study of the sources. Such reconstructions are essentially incestuous, and the opportunity for circular thinking is boundless. The key question concerns just how much reliable data we can derive from this circular process. This can be like trying to nail Jello to the wall.
While I agree that it is circular, I don’t see that as a bad thing. All writing of history is a circle that moves between the sources and the proposed reconstruction of the events. When historians of America use sources from the Revolutionary War to write a history of that period, they have to determine the date of the sources and their provenance. Knowing that a particular letter from a wife of a soldier was written before or after a particular battle has an impact on how we judge the information in the letter. If the historian initially decides that it was written before the battle, but later finds that the battle was fought on a different date, he or she must reassess the dating of the letter and the information it contains.
For historians of ancient Israel, the problems are more acute than for American historians and the data is less plentiful, but the issues are the same. The trick with the circularity is to make the circle as wide as possible. When done correctly, the circle transforms into a spiral which moves both our source critical and historical models upwards together.
As Hauser points out, we are now in a period when both historical and source critical consensi have collapsed. Given that there is no longer a core of propositions that biblical scholars accept, Hauser asks how much we can learn from source critical theories.
The answer is that while we cannot rely on older theories, we can set about the work of building new theories built on what we hope is a more solid foundation. Wellhausen’s theory was built on both historical and philosophical foundations. I have critiqued Wellhausen’s philosophical basis, and Hauser points out the historical problems. And part of the problem of the post-modern period is that we don’t quite have a new philosophical basis — or at least not one that commands general acceptance. But none of these are reasons to abandon source critical inquiry. We may have to tear down part of the spiral we have built up, but the only way we are going to move forward is by struggling to establish a new foundation and beginning to build the spiral anew.
We are in a transition period is Pentateuchal study. The old consensus has collapsed and the new has yet to arise. Such periods are uncomfortable, but they are also invigorating. I agree with Hauser that now is the time for a “thoroughgoing reassessment of the foundation on which source critical studies have been based.”
Hausen then moves on to other methodological issues. Among these is the question of why scholarship should brush aside the final form of the text in favor of theoretical reconstructions. He asks:
If there were a resounding consensus among scholars about the content and scope of these proposed sources, as well as the socio-historical context in which each was produced, one might be less inclined to pay attention to the challenge Childs and others have raised. However, an encompassing consensus on these points is precisely what has been lacking. . . . I am unwilling to make decisions about the nature of the Old Testament on the basis of continually morphing theories and constructs.
I have two responses to this. The first is that I think Hauser is missing the distinction between the historical and theological character of the text. The theological character of the text is not affected by source criticism; the historical character is. We do not determine the authority or usefulness of the Pentateuch by tracing its author or its original historical setting. The authority is defined by its canonical status within faith communities. Nothing source criticism says will change that.
Second, I don’t think scholars are as inclined today to ignore the final form of the text, thanks in large part to the work of Childs. Historians may be more concerned with reconstructed earlier stages, but this is not the case in general. And apart from a canonical approach, a number of critical methods have arisen that pay little or no attention to anything but the final form. Among these are feminist readings, liberation readings, literary criticism, and reader response theory. We are past the point where the earliest form of the text is given privileged status.
One final comment on Hauser’s statement above. He states that he is unwilling to made decisions based on “continually morphing theories and constructs.” Unfortunately, however, that is the nature of human knowledge. We may kid ourselves otherwise, but even science works that way. Our understanding of the world is always based on theory. The rate at which theories are formulated and abandoned may change over time (and currently they are changing fairly quickly), but the fact that they do change is one of the few constants.
I have focused more here on places where I disagree with what Hauser says, but overall I found his article very useful. Methodological problems abound in source criticism, and Hauser has done a good job of outlining some of them.
The Anglican Association of Biblical Scholars announces their annual meeting, which will be held on November 16 at the San Diego Convention Center.
We are honored to have as our speaker the Rev. Lynn C. Sanders, Director of Church Relations for Episcopal Relief and Development. The afternoon sessions will focus on the United Nation’s Millennium Development Goals and ways the MDGs can be explored in parishes in conjunction with biblical texts. After eucharist and dinner, our evening session will feature a talk by Ms. Sanders on “The AABS and ERD: Partners for Theologically Grounded Development Education for Churches?”
The meetings are open to everyone regardless of denominational affiliation. There are no requirements for membership other than an interest in biblical studies. There is no fee for the sessions, although those who attend are encouraged to join the AABS if they would like to help us foster biblical scholarship in the Anglican Communion. If you want to attend the dinner between the Eucharist and evening session, you will need to register. Reservations may be made on-line or via postal mail. Information on how to register is available at the AABS web site.
This month’s SBL Forum has a wonderful article by Isabelle Kinnard entitled “Life Without Footnotes”. In it, she discusses her decision to leave academia due to a divorce. Due to her ex-husband’s job, she found herself in a town far from family. She needed a steady income, but her year-to-year contract at the college was not going to be renewed. She ended up leaving the field.
In the article, she muses over some of the things she misses about academia and some of the things she doesn’t. I found it an enjoyable read. My own situation is similar to hers, not only in the fact that I am currently (and hopefully temporarily) not employed in academia, but also in the fact that I find there are things about academia that I don’t miss.
One of my dirty little secrets is that I am enjoying doing work that only has to meet the standards of a couple of people. In my retail job, I have to satisfy my supervisor. In my web design job, I have to satisfy my supervisor and the current client. Neither of these demand a great deal. In academia, however, I always have to think of the entire field. When I write an article or a book (or even a blog post), I know it will have to stand up to the most critical scholars. This means making sure that every claim, every sentence, every fact is verifiable and supportable. While I enjoy that kind of work, it can rather stressful.
This is not to say that I won’t jump at the chance to get back into academia. I miss the intellectual challenge. I miss the discussions with other scholars. And above all I miss my students. I will welcome my return to teaching, but it is certainly more difficult and stressful (but ultimately more rewarding) than my current jobs.
